Can You Hear Me Now????

Jo Jo (From K-Ci & Jo-Jo) Passes Out On Stage (around 1:45 mark)

Friday morning while watching Jojo pass out (on my blackberry) for the zillion time (see above video… when I get bored I watch it because it’s the most comical thing I have ever seen in my life. Between Jojo biting the dust, the raw emotion of K-Ci’s singing, and the bodyguard’s response… this clip is instant laughter and will forever be funny to me). ANYWAY, while watching it… my phone just broke. That’s right… the blackberry storm I have had for less than a week was broken. I could not even call out, receive calls or any data for that matter.

I decided to go to the Verizon on 34th street… I’m done messing with the Harlem location. As I was walking to the train… PLOP! Yea, bird dookie on my riding boots. You already know your day will be full of BS once you get shitted on.

I went home and changed my shoes. I got to Verizon and I’m highly upset because I this is a brand new phone and I’ve been in their store a total of 8 hours over the course of the week. I explained to the woman my situation.

Woman “Yea, this is a defective phone. Let’s get you a new one.”

Me “Thanks”

Manager “I hear you have been having phone issues?”

Me “You hear correctly. How is this the most reliable network? To keep it funky with you I have been at Verizon so many hours that yall need to put me on the payroll.”

Manager “Well, I’m sorry about that. I take it you would not like to take a survey rating products and service…..”

Me “Trust. I would give yall the lowest score ever.”

After spending an hour in the store (somehow they activated the new phone with my grandma’s phone number….. don’t ask) I walked around the corner to Ballys for a workout.

I was on the treadmill warming up before step aerobics when a guy approached me.

Guy “We need another player for our co-ed indoor soccer game…. Do you know how to play soccer?”

I have not played soccer since sophomore year of HS (unless you count when I was a councilor at the YMCA).

Me “Can I play a fullback or goalie?” (I was trying to do the least amount of work possible)

I joined the game and was having fun until they started getting extra serious. HELLO! We are not wearing protective gear. The next person to kick me in my shins was getting a beat down… before it got to that level…. I excused myself from the game.

Step class wore me out! I was wheezing up a storm. The 50 year old MIA 9 month pregnant woman was GETTING IT IN! She was the best in the class and put me to shame. I looked like the scene in “How Stella Got Her Groove Back” when Whoopi and Angela are on the beach working out… and Whoopi is in no kind of shape and just an overall hot mess…. that was me in this step class. 3 days later… and it still hurts to walk.

I decided to run some errands after the gym. I washed my hair there since it was a nice out… but I forgot my blow dryer so I just left it wet.

While in a store this awkwardly tall white guy tapped me on the shoulder.

Guy “Excuse me… have you been to the Caribbean spot on 34th and 10th?”

Me “No”

Guy “Really? I figured you being Caribbean you would have been there?”

Me “I’m not Caribbean.”

Guy “Oh, well, I thought all the pretty girls were from the Caribbean.”

Me “ You are mistaken. Why is it that the world has this fascination with people from “exotic places”? Is being black/ African American not good enough? Is it not pretty enough?

Quick Vent:

(Why does everyone feel the need to claim random stuff that is so far down the line? “My great grandfather is West Indian, My great great grandfather is white. Also, I have a great grandfather who is Jamaican”…. This quad-racial nonsense needs to end! People please cut this out! It is okay to be black. REALLY…. IT IS. And since moving to NY this is not the first fool to approach me on some you are pretty because you are _______ type stuff. Fill it in with Jamaican, Haitian, Nigerian, and Dominican because I have heard all of the above. I understand that to be African American more than likely means you have other stuff in the blood… and I get idea to identify when your parents are different races…but the great great grandparents…. GIRL/BOY BYE! It’s just getting out of hand. I blame Mariah and Tiger for this ish. )

Guy “I did not mean that… I meant….”

Me “What you meant was you got fooled by the wet and wavy.”

Guy “Excuse me?”

Me “My hair is wet… you mistook my kinks for curly tendrils… and I’m sure that these yoga pants I have on make my butt look rounder than usual…. So between the booty and the hair… you were fooled. But no, I am not Caribbean I am the product of the American slave trade.”

Guy “So where is the boyfriend? Does an Italian have a chance?” (I know since I said he was Italian… ladies you are thinking he was fine… but he wasn’t… just really tall with bad teeth…. In the words of grandma he was “built up all funny”).

Me “50 is with our son.”

Guy “50 cent?”

“Yes, my baby 50” (AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

That dude ran so fast from me! LOL! Ladies, if you don’t want to be bothered… tell the guy you are with a gangster rapper! Someone needs to give me a reality show and fast cause that right there was FUNNY!

That night I went to this lounge in the meat packing district with one of my homeboys. It was filled with men… my boy was upset… but it was good for me lol. Well, not really… these dudes were extra wack. The one guy that was cute…. I decided to approach. I have no problem being a female mack in a club situation…. Because I have no intention of really getting with this person. I think it’s lame to try to find love in the club and who really forms a lasting relationship out of that anyway? It’s all just sport here.

OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! This dude got to talking and his teeth looked like the talking Dunkey in Shrek!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Between that and the heavy Bronx accent (to the point I needed translation) … I excused myself extra fast! (but, "if i took one more drank imma end up F__ n youuuuuuu... is that what you wanna do shawty?" -T Pain)

Homeboy (laughing) “What happened?”

Me “Teeth complications. Close the tab… let’s leave.” (I was sippin on sprite and cran... not a drink since NYE for me)

We hopped a cab to this spot over on 30th and Park where a friend of a friend was having a birthday party.

Home boy “DAMN! I left my phone in the cab!”

Welp, so much for his phone.

The party was straight… but when you have to catch a train back uptown… check out is kind of early. I left around 2:40am.

This was my first time on the eastside this late (by myself with no one to split a cab to Harlem with)…. I took the 6 train to Grand Central station. I waited for 30 min for the shuttle until I realized the shuttle stops after 12am so I got on the 7 to Times Square then had to transfer to the 2 train… which was running local (stopping at every single stop). Since the 2 skips the part of Harlem where I live I had to get off at 135th street and take a cab the rest of the way home. I MISS DRIVING! And yall ask why I don’t go out on weekends anymore… because it’s like a 2 hour commute to the club and the drunk people on the train… I just can’t deal.

When I woke up the next morning…. my phone was not working. I threw on some clothes and went back to Verizon.

Woman “Sorry about that… your phone was programmed incorrectly.”

Me “Please get the manager.”

Manager “You look familiar.”

Me “I bet I do since I spend every waking moment in here. Look, you and I are about to sit down and you are going to write step by step directions as to the workings of this phone and also conduct whatever tests you need to do to make sure it functions something proper. I’m tired of this crap! CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW????????”