Archive | October, 2010

Korean Barbecue

11 Oct

Lovey-doveys often annoy the bejeebers out of folks.  Everyone knows one.  They’re the antithesis of the duo that makes you wonder why they torture each other by staying together, and what the global impact of their hated coexistence might be.  Flowers wilt and skies darken as they approach.

Lovey-doveys annoy because neither party has much limitation when it comes to frequent and inappropriate PDA, and there’s a lot of helpless infatuation floating around.  One of my best buds calls it twice-marinated-Korean-bbq-tenderness.  There’s a tagline for these folks: Making people everywhere nauseous since (insert anniversary year here).

What’s really funny is, PDA is just the wing on the fly on the tip of the iceberg for them.  So if what you see makes your gag reflex kick in, imagine when you’re not around.  Also typical though less acknowledged, lovey-doveys genuinely seem to be flippin’ ecstatic with each other.  This kick-starts not-so-good feelings for those of us who need more time with our journals and near-tears of joy for those who love love.

It’s time to admit that if folks learned a thing or two from these couples the world would be a better place.

Profundity and stuffs.

‘Cause too many folks flub up simple things after they’ve found someone they love. Huh?  Assuming you love someone, you know them.  Well.  It baffles me how folks can flub up a birthday, holiday, date or even a simple “Thank you.”  Then they get all fussy and stingy with their love like it’s love’s fault you bought your basketball-obsessed boyfriend tickets to the Icecapades for Christmas.  (Yes, that was both too ritardish and random to be a true reference.)

Not flubbing things up with someone you love is so simple:  Show them you love them.

To be fair, in today’s world of relationship sabotage many have been conditioned to reject displays of love… True romance… Like bacon and non-fried foods.

If you’re a literate adult and still really only interested in getting bukkit-nekkit with everyone except the one you care about, two points before you leave: (1) You don’t really wanna read my opinions on relationships at this point in your life.  (2) A gentle reminder: 
http://www.epigee.org/guide/stds.html

All others, ignore the nauseous nay-sayers and remember these love nuggets of romance.

1)  Dance together. You don’t have to be the next reality show star, or even have rhythm to dance with the love of your life.  Dancing frees the spirit and uplifts the soul… When you do it without self-consciousness or judgment.  So do it.  Or find someone you can with.

2) Talk together. If you need to, find discussion prompts.  Or someone you’re compatible with.

3) Drink each other in. Learn, love, enjoy, and rediscover everything about them.  Or find someone you want to do that with.

4) Enjoy nature. At some point, no matter how much either of you loves and can afford luxury, your relationship and dagnabbit your souls (thunderclap) will suffer… If you can’t fully appreciate the simple, priceless luxuries of life.  Nature’s are best: Mountain views, oceans, clouds, meadows, lakes… Figure it out and take it in together.  Or add life-long therapy and single-life to your list of necessary luxuries.

5) Recognize and engineer beautiful moments. Your recognition tools: An eye for anything that allows you to be still together right in its midst.  Whether home, the beach, an amusement park, a club… A niche of stillness is all you need.  Your engineering tools: Creativity, sense of adventure, Lover’s Toolkit.  More on that later… ;)

6) Garnish life with the extraordinary. Underscoring number 5 but it’s so critical…  Movie night? Smuggle in pizza and a cocktail.  Dinner?  Feed each other on a picnic blanket.  Conference call? Take it, nekkit…   Busy day? Squeeze in private lunchtime… In the car. Gardening? Start with a champagne toast.  Exercising?  Stretch together.  Then… Stretch together.

7) Find the silver lining and put a spotlight on that sukka. Perfect dates fail miserably in the eyes of love-free pessimists.  Horrifying dates become romantic lifetime memories in the eyes of loving optimists.  Which would you prefer?

8) Create, update and use your library. You should be learning about them every day.  You should also be retaining that information and applying it.  Simple touches like a favorite color, craving, or childhood memory turn everyday stuffs into stuff of legends.

9) Put your best foot forward. Who better to go hard in the paint for (Other than yourself?)  Straighten up your place for them, light some candles, wear their favorite scent, dress up for them, arrange that fried chicken just so.  For them.  They will recognize the effort and appreciate that little bit that shows you care.  And return the favor.  Are you thinking what I’m thinking? :-D

Praise and glory, praise and glory.

10) Appreciate them. Can’t underscore this enough.  You’re in love with the person of your choosing.  You love every unique and wonderful thing about them, including the way they love you.  Act like it! Or find someone who fits that bill. More detail here: 
http://tinawatkins.wordpress.com/2010/07/13/let-me-see-it/

Anywhere, anytime you can do this, do.  Or quit fakin’ the funk and get funky with it.

Suddenly I’ve an urge for barbecue.

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Silly quotes: Jul-Oct 2010

8 Oct

I rarely watch television.  When I do it’s either because I’m physically incapable of reading at the time or trying to fall asleep.  Why, aside from the obvious reasons?  Because no writer can top the hilarity of nor compete with the witty banter of real-life.  Seriously.  The stuff I hear is too funny not to share.  Names have been omitted to protect the innocent.  I give you, top true quotes that really hat happent over the last four months.

  • Expression of excitement about Lent passing, having given up beef: “I’m gonna eat nothing but cow and pig and more pig.  Dessert is gonna be cow and pig with sugar on top of it.”
  • One of my friend’s attempts to divert attention away from herself after her button popped off her trousers at a party: “Oh! Look! Someone lost a button!”
  • Response to my question of whether a guy would pay for my carwash after he sarcastically asked if I was looking for a one: “Sure.  Do they take EBT?”
  • Disgruntled spades player in response to bid: “Eff you you ain’t got no muhf—in, ten.”
  • Two of my friends joking about my deep summer tan: Gal: “When did you get so brown?” Guy: “She’s been rubbing against [my significantly less melanin-challenged man]“.
  • Overheard in response to a recorded voicemail: Message sender: “We’ve been trying to reach you about Success.” Message recipient: “There’s a reason there’s been no success. It’s not you, it’s me.”
  • In a meeting with executive management: Boss: “You shouldn’t do that. With your face.” Colleague: “What, look ignorant?”
  • In joking response to a subordinate’s claim that they don’t get praised for a job well done: Boss: “What? You get praised every other week!”
  • After a particularly tasty birthday lunch at work for another team member: “Y’all should be born all the time!”
  • In response to the suggestion of using pyrotechnics to enhance a lackluster stage performance: “That’s how Michael Jackson caught on fire!”
  • In reference to the inappropriate yet frequent tendency to demand a showcase one’s singing/acting/dancing talent when discovered: “PERFORM, CLOWN!”
  • Pastor during Sunday service: “What? I tweet.  I think my tweets are cool.  You should follow me.”
  • The cherry on top of the loser sundae one of my girlfriends served to her scrabble opponent: “What you should have done, was been smarter than you are, and played better than you could have. You needed to get more points than I did. And you didn’t.”
  • Spades smack-talking: “Will someone come get this Georgia nig and teach him some remedial math? He’s out of fingers and toes!”
  • Attempted scrabble play: “Tanner: One who tans.”
  • In reference to doing something involving likka and/or dancing as opposed to church or group discussion: “I’m not above unconventional means of lightening the soul.”
  • After the recent Gulf oilspill, in reference to the exorbitant amount of shellfish I’d ordered for lunch, my Dad’s suggestion being the contamination would make its way West: Dad: “So… you’re trying to eat up all the fish?“
  • Me: “Yeah.”

No explanation needed for these gems:

“Bless you for all the sneezes you will ever make.”

“Most of us, who type things, have automatic spell check.”

“He’s the smartest guy I’ve ever liked… And, well, you know. That too.”

“Don’t look at me with that tone of voice!”

“Oh no,  the best part of the game is coming up, when they do the loser’s interviews.”

“I am very particular about not associating myself with wackness.”

Shameless

6 Oct

Humility and frequent hearty laughter are priceless and critical ingredients in the happiness sunshine cake recipe.  Since you can never have too much, and nothing says funny and hubris-free like a good gut-busting, tummy-aching laugh at yourself…

Let’s go.

Join me as I spin a few tales about lessons learned through trial and comical error, all fueled by my motto of “Worst case scenario, it’ll make a great story someday.”  Yes, all this stuff really happened.  The common denominators are yours truly with a sprinkling of my optimistic/ 5-year old within/ idiocy for good measure.  I don’t do shame, am a hot mess of hotmessdedness and would have it no other way.

Five funny lessons learned…

Why I don’t do come-hither: Deciding to turn “on” my sexy (<–fallacy: Sexy stays lit) for a sizzling evening, the plan was to throw myself onto my love-interest’s bed, silent-screen star-style, and do the finger-beckon with smoldering gaze.  How about instead, my overzealous self hit the bed so hard I bounced into the wall on the other side… Except it wasn’t a wall it was a window.  Thank the LorT it was closed. Halleluyer.

Yes indeed.  For dessert: Chuckle a la mode.

Why I don’t hit on men: I was wrapping up a single gal’s night out with a diner trip, making serious google-flirt-eyes with a good-looking man seated alone across the room.  Fueled by my motto of good story promise, my not-so brilliant plan was to do a bathroom run, and on the way back ask for his number.   Well.  On the way back, I politely interrupted the waitress to drop my line.

She politely explained he was her boyfriend.

Wow.

I couldn’t turn around and go back to the restroom, so I apologized, did the walk of shame back to my table, handled my awkward moment-management in their full view and felt rather tard-ish.

Yes, yes.  Giggles all around.

Why I don’t party with sheltered rich girls: Much younger and partygoerwisdom-free, one night fraught with stupidity ended up as follows. I (sober and protesting too much), together with three or four drunken women dressed in full club regalia(<–read: Hooker-uniforms)  walked back and forth along a four-block area of Hollywood Blvd. no less than four times within a two hour span… Only to stop at a payphone in front of an adult video store to make a call, and… Of course.

Get propositioned by a growing crowd of Johns.  Let’s just say the melanin balance shifted in me to reverse historical oppression that night and all parties left safe and sound.

Oh it goes on, diverse and ever-sillier… Another chortle for you?

Why I don’t do stranger’s theme parties: It took two tries to get this one right, ’cause it masqueraded as Why I don’t do Stranger’s New Year’s Eve Parties. (Also true.)  First, was a New Year’s Eve gone right, then wrong, then right, then horribly wrong in a short evening’s time.  Let’s just say I, together with four of my common-sense wielding girlfriends… Got all gussied up in full formal regalia (evening gown and the like) yay!  When we got to the event, everyone else’s invitation seemed to have read ultra-casual low key: T-shirts, jeans and sneakers encouraged.  We chose to bridge the formality gap with likka.  I lost my phone that night.

The nail in the stranger theme party coffin came when on a separate occasion, I went in full costume as a sexy schoolgirl to a costume not-costume party. Turned out no one felt like dressing up.  This is also why I don’t do costumes nor follow themes that might make me look like crap.  Somehow, it’s easier to cop a, “Well it could be worse” when you don’t literally look like a flippin’ clown.

Mmmhmmmm.  More guffaws here please.

Why I don’t do pseudonyms: I grappled with the name for this blog and other internet stuff and realized it keeps me somewhat grounded, which I need.   Por ejemplo, one summer a sibling connected me to an agent looking for songwriters.  I turned into the ultimate ghostwriter alter-ego disaster.  Like Malibu’s Most Wanted meets old ladies with plastic surgery on ‘roids.  My imaginative side treats pseudonyms like a fun license for craziness.  It’s like suddenly reverting to two-year-old superhero games of infinite possibility…  For stoopitity.  Gone was the love and sunshine.  Replaced by a crappier version of Forty Percent with a heavy lacing of… Wait for it… Barbershop style five and six part harmony.  Oh, does that not make sense?

Picture with your ear’s eye, this chorus to a song:

You neva gonna

(Barbershop harmony) See me come up on you

Trust they neva gon’ find you

(Barbershop harmony) Nobody here can save you

You can’t stop me

(Barbershop harmony) I’m that gangsta

(Commence Cee-walking)

Yes.

Sorry to make your ears bleed, but that is indeed, (Barbershop harmony with jazz slide and spirit fingers)

Gaaaaaaaaangstaaaaaaa.

 

Thank you for laughing.

My little chuckle enthusiasts.

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