Nik Be Nimble, Nik Be Quick...

“I carry the place around the world in my heart but sometimes I try to shake it off in my dreams”. F. Scott Fitzgerald

Ok, did y’all see that article where that man set the woman on fire in the elevator???

Or the woman who was merely stepping on the elevator and got crushed because it took off before she could….get fully in?? Seriously?? And yes I know this COULD happen anywhere, but it didn’t happen just anywhere, it happened in New York City…within days of each other.

Like is it not enough that I have become a pro-rat spotter, homeless and crazy specialist, a subway car inspector, a walking compass, and proficient in all things bed bug related?  Hell I’m damn near a superhero (whose super power might I add is a mega grocery bag carrier)…but now…noooooow I have to be an authority on elevators? Before and after I’m on?

No. No . No. No. New York. I say no. I must say no. Did I say no?

Listen, there’s no secret I have a love/hate relationship with this city…I don’t hide it.  This city has been good to me, but this city has also done me soooo wrong in so many ways. Hell it’s done a lot of us wrong, starting with the rent, but I won’t go there…I’m not going to go there. I DO NOT have time to get all “swoll” in my feelings about these overpriced apartments. That topic deserves a post all on it’s on. 

But I would be lying if I didn’t admit I have a certain “love” for this city despite all of my hatred.  Shoot, this city has given me skill sets that I shan’t learn anywhere else in this world.  And if I’m honest I’ll also say these “skills” can’t really be applied anywhere else in the world, strictly indicative of our beloved New York City’s specialness.

Seriously, the other day I was going out of town so I was bringing my luggage to work, and I realized I have some serious talent. I can lug my suitcase, lift and carry it down/up the stairs of the train station with out even stuttering a step.  Oh and the turnstile?? Swift as a fox! (yeah I know it’s sly as a fox, just ride with me on this one) Not one hesitation! That, my friends, is a bankable skill ESPECIALLY in rush hour on a New York City subway.  So then I started thinking about my other “skills” as a New Yorker (yes, transplant but I earned my wings years ago, don’t play me!)

And I came up with a little list….Ya, you know you love it!

• Finding the proper spot on the train that will let you off near the exit you need:

Now if you’re not from New York, never lived in New York, or hell never visited New York, you might not know, but this, beloveds, is an art. Especially if you’re travelling say to Penn Station and your NJ transit train leaves at 5:10 and it’s now 4:55 and you haven’t even bought a ticket yet…and the 2/3 is creeping ever so slowly in to the station?  This skill is the one you want, at THAT moment.  There’s nothing like shooting out the door and the stairs are right in front of you. 

• Spotting a rat or roach (or in the family of…) from behind:

Homie….Hooooomieeeee….I have a spidey sense unrivaled…unmatched by no other.  I can detect movement as light as a leaf.  You might wanna get at me.

• Super strength eye sight detecting something as small as a donut crumb in a subway seat:

Yeah so you’ve been on the train right? A train? Any train? Communal space = grossness<<remember that.  So please believe I scope the seats at all times, ALWAYS! My special skill however, is I can determine which if any have isht in them without even being in near proximity.  Yeah, I’m kind of dope like that.

• Cat like reflexes moving from train to train when noticing a crazy in the approaching car:

Tah….this isht right heeeree…this isht right heeeerrrrreee…will save your life one day.  I have the ability to see the train coming AND…wait for it…look into each and every car at warp speed with x-ray like vision, detect and analyze a crazy or situation, and run, duck, and maneuver to the next car or two or four….

Really…Really….Get. On. My. Level……

I mean listen, I’ve lived in many places-nine cities in six different states to be exact.  So I think I have the experience to make this next claim: People in New York City always say this is the best city in the United States, my rebuttal is always, you have to live in other cities (which most have not…hell most haven’t even left Brooklyn but I won’t go there) in order to make that statement.  And going to college and coming back doesn’t count (it just doesn’t…don’t argue this point…I won’t even listen).  You have to experience other environments, settings, cultures to compare and contrast.  Now with that said, I don’t know if I could say it’s the BEST city, but I will say there is NO OTHER city like it.  And living here you become a different person (be it good or bad) because of it.  It’s the most unique, diverse city I’ve ever lived in, and it has a certain Je ne sais quoi.

 It certainly keeps me coming back.......but let us also not forget it keeps me running too!

Bonus Post: A Red Ryder Carbine Action 200 Shot Range Model Air Rifle-Kind of Gift

Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot,
But the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, did not.
The Grinch hated Christmas — the whole Christmas season.
Oh, please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason.  Dr. Seuss “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas

I promise you it was just my birthday the other day. I really don’t understand how it’s almost Christmas!  I’m not ready.  Hell, I think my summer clothes are still occupying the prime locations in my dresser drawer.  I say prime because I most certainly don’t switch out my clothes, waaaay too organized for a girl like me.  There are prime locations and secondary locations (i.e. the back of the drawer) and right now if I was to open up my drawer I’m certain a tank top will pop out, not a v-neck sweater.  So needless to say, I’m living in a world that occurred months ago, and I clearly need to catch up.  

So what better way to do so then to compile my Christmas list?  Shoot, I might even type it up to send off to Santa.  And no, I don’t believe in Santa, but I DO believe in those people that work in the post office that answers the letters, may they have mercy on my unemployed soul.  Yeah, yeah, yeah I know I’m “too old” for Christmas gifts…but not in my book, and as long as someone gives I will certainly take. I mean isn’t that the spirit of Christmas?? No? ;-)

Nika’s Christmas List

<    A Forever Lazy:  Yes, I know someone somewhere is moaning and groaning right now, but I just got my very first snuggie when I was in Maine and I’ll tell you, the only thing missing is a zipper to close up the back and then poof it will be a Forever Lazy.  Now given I’m not wearing it to the supermarket or anything but dude, to lounge around? Hellz yeah!  You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t think that jammy would lull you into a comatose sleep... we all need that kind of sleep eh?

      The Cosby Show DVD Box Set: Yes it’s pricy, this I know. But come on, don’t you want one?  And if you knew how happy The Cosby Show made me, wouldn’t YOU want to get me one?  Tis’ the season to be givin’…Amen

      Earth, Wind, and Fire CD Box Set:   All I have to say is :

“Somethin' happened along the way
what used to be happy was sad
Somethin' happened along the way
and yesterday was all we had
And oh after the love has gone
how could you lead me on
and not let me stay around
Oh oh oh after the love has gone
what used to be right is wrong
Can love that's lost be found”

I mean don’t you want me to find the love that’s lost…you know after it’s gone? Siggghhh yeah me too….

      I Am T-pain Autotune Microphone:  Months ago I saw it in BJ’s and I thought, "my ,what a nifty gadget".  I was reminded of it on Twitter the other day and my yearning was still there.  Here’s my promise to you, if you bought it for me, I vow to always carry it in my purse and when the opportunity calls I will sing my sentences in autotune.  This is my promise, I do solemnly swear.

      A Case of Chairman’s Reserve Spiced Rum:  This is my favorite rum ever.  And well lookie lookie, It is imported by some of my best friends so what the hell, I couldn’t pass up a shameless plug.  BUT it makes awesome drinks for the holidays and well, wouldn’t you want me to be toasty??? I wouldn’t ever, never ever, never ever ever waste a drop.  It’d be the most appreciated gift of the season. Trust. I’d even regift you a bottle<< See that there?  Tis’ the season…tis’ the season everyone!

      Obama chia pet:  Chi chi chi chia….listen, here’s the logic for this, I want to have babies one day….Just stay with me now, this is going somewhere…. I want to have babies one day, so in order to make sure I don’t kill the baby, I should probably get a pet right?  Well in order to make sure I don’t kill the pet, I should get a plant.  And since we all know I kill plants… I should probably start with a chia pet.  See?! Get me a chia pet and I’ll be ready for babies.  Do it for the kids! K?

Please and thank you in advance Santa, Yours truly….

Shit, if it worked on the Muppets…*where are my stamps*

The Functional Dysfunction

A son is a son till he takes him a wife, a daughter is a daughter all of her life.  ~Irish Saying

One of my favorite commercials EVER is the one where the father is standing outside practicing cheerleading routines with his daughter, yall know the one, they only play it every other commercial during Monday Night Football.  It's supes cute and endearing and it almost always triggers emotions about my own father.  Not because he was that father to practice cheerleading routines outside with me or practice anything with me for that matter…that in fact would be a negative.  I mean honestly, never would he give up his Saturday morning Kung Fu practices (in front of the TV) to practice something as “girlie” as a routine with me, hell that’s what mother’s are for lol.  As far as “practicing” anything went, was when he pulled out his nunchucks and put his “lessons” to work.  And trust, you did not want that to happen.  Imagine trying to get your Smurf watch on and ducking nunchucks at the same time, believe me when I say it was a pain.  But despite it all or lack of it all, I was and am still a total Daddy’s girl as much as I'd probably mumble that under my breath.   **As a side note, I am also a Mommy’s girl  (when we get along…we’re both Leo’s and that can a tricky thing to maneuver) I am the youngest.  But this post isn’t about her, I’ll chat about Beverly on another post,  you know when we’ve established a closer relationship...Ms. Bev ain’t for the weak lol.**

You all have all heard my tales of The Fath, if you follow me on twitter, I’m sure.  We have an odd relationship my father and me.  A relationship that’s really book worthy, but I’ll try to detail it briefly for you here.    As a kid, he was around, but not around if that makes any kind of sense.  My parents were young, and my mom did most of our rearing, and my father usually showed up at the end of the night, you know with a pack of now & laters and a knee tickle.  (if he knew I wrote that he’d argue otherwise, but its true) But I worshiped him nonetheless.  For some crazy reason he could do no wrong, even when he was, in fact, wrong.  THAT drove my mom crazy, but what’s a girl to do?  Honestly most girls are born Daddy’s girls I believe.  

I remember once my mom was out of town and we were playing dress up, and my father asked us who we were pretending to be.  Now, had he been really present he would have known that my sister, the one with the flare of the dramatic, already knew who she was dressing up as, but I, the one who flew by the seat of her pants , had not a clue and a question like that would throw me under the bus.  But how would he know that? This was way before the now & later on your dresser hour of the day and he was trying to engage us.  So, it went something like this,

Daddy: “Maia, who are you today?

Maia: “ A model”

Daddy: “That’s nice. Nene, who are you?”

Me: “ummm…a hooker”

Daddy: *in full blackout*  “A WHAT???”

So yeah, that dialog right there almost gives a classic explanation of my relationship with my father to a T and perhaps even foreshadowed our relationship to come when I became a teenager.  And noooo, I didn’t want to really be a hooker.  In my defense, T.J. Hooker was one of our favorite shows, which often times showcased a lot of ummmm… hookers, duh….and hell the pressure was on, that was all I could come up with, sue me!  I mean, who knew that a little hooker situation would send him on the deep end lol.

So with that said, it came to a shock to all when many years, a divorce, and several custody battles later, I ended up opting to live with my father at the age of 14, in the thick of his bachelorhood mind you.  Yep, I  threw the monkey wrench in his single days such that when I moved in,  we had only one sofa, and a black and white TV, and two mattresses and box springs ON THE FLOOR! Yes, I said on the floor, a situation my grandmother quickly put the kibosh on lol.   But, in his defense he had just moved back into our childhood home, and this set up was A-Ok for him….such a typical dude.  But anyway, at first it was my sister and I, and then my sister decided to move back with my mother mid way through our first year.  So I stayed with my father and it ended up being kind of like “his and her” kids.   It was probably the biggest shake up of my father’s life, and mine for that matter. He went from being a bachelor, to having a headstrong, attitudinal, know it all, 14 year old in his life.  And THIS is when I would say I, as well as my sister, established a closer relationship with my father.  We really had no choice right? 

And as you can imagine living with your father as a young girl is no cake walk.  Okay lies some was, like when I told him I didn’t eat leftovers or do dishes AND IT WORKED! Hahahaha! But outside of that it was hard. There were things he just didn’t get or made completely difficult.  My father and I are complete opposites and my sister and my father are the same person, so you can imagine the battle clashes we used to have, much like our very own War of the Roses. And the stories…they leave their mark just like a battle zone. 

Like….

The Battle of the Never-ending Basketball game:

Okay so, when you’re younger and you’ve just started your cycle, you don’t necessarily know your body well, so sometimes it would be a surprise to you right? Often times you would go to the bathroom and Helllooooo Monthly.  Now, living with my mother, no problem usually we had plenty a house with 3 women, just call out the bathroom and someone will toss you supplies.  Oh but nooooo, not in the Roberts house of 2.  Call out of the bathroom and the response that would come back would be something like “Can’t you wait until the game is over?”  Ummm sir, I’m sitting on the toilet…do you really expect me to sit her for another hour??? Word?

Or like…

Battle of REVCO:

The time he went to Revco and made the lady behind the counter call me at home to ask me what type of sanitary napkins I used, even though I explicitly told him BEFORE he left the house? << Sooo embarrassing!

Or like….

The War of the Mistaken Aliment:

The time when I had a stomachache and mistakenly told my father instead of calling to Tennessee to tell my mother?  Why I would do that, I have no idea.  My lovely father, unbeknownst to me, asked his girlfriend to take to me to the doctor.  So, yeah not a problem, that is until we get to the doctor and I realized she took me to the GYNECOLOGIST!!!!  Can you imagine my dismay, my fear, and my shock when she pulls out the clamp?!? No prep, no conversation with my mother, no clue what was going on AT ALL.  Never had I felt so….caught off guard. (thought I was going to say violated right? Nah, it was professional but shit you need to be prepped for something like that) I’ll never forget when I got home, I marched in and yell “I said I had a tummy ache damn it, not that I was pregnant!!!” lolol

Or like…

The Battle of the Jutted Out House:

The time when I just got my license and he made me drive my grandmother around all day, including dropping her off at home, 30 minutes away…And as I was backing up the driveway, something I did daily, I wasn’t quite paying attention (yeah you know where this is going) and cut the wheel before clearing the house and not only took off the front of the car but several planks of the house…yeah I think we still joke about that one. …

Or like…

The Battle of the Evening Affair:

The time I asked him how I looked and he told me, “only street walkers where red lipstick”?  Leaving me to assume that I…perhaps… looked like an umm…. street walker? Like who even says street walker…EVER *side eye*

Or like….

The Battle for Healthy Living:

When I moved in and we ate fast food EVERY day for a year, not 4 times a week, not 3 but EVERY day..NOT ONE COOKED MEAL NOT ONE DAY…FOR.AN.ENTIRE.YEAR

Or….

The Dating Showdown:

The time he made me and my sister go out and get the license AND license plate number of the car of the guys we were going to hang out with?  The same guys from our neighborhood???

Or…

World War Roberts:

The many rules of thumb to dating the Roberts girls?

*no mispronouncing our names even if it was one of my many nicknames

*no blowing the horn in the driveway

*no pulling up with loud music

*must come and introduce yourself and shake his hand

*You must introduce yourself with your government name, no Pookies allowed

*valid license and registration

You know I can tell these stories for days, and hell so could my cousins, friends, neighbors,  and guys I dated in high school.  It was the craziest, juxtaposed relationship ever!  And the tee hee hee is no matter how awkward that time was with my father, no matter how much I missed my mom and my sister, or how many times I threatened to move back to Tennessee (like that would hurt him lol) I wouldn’t change those 4 years ever. I’d go back and do it all the same, fast food dinners and all.   There is just something special about a daughter and her relationship with her father and my father and I have a unique one that no one will ever get but us.  And yes, we fought and still fight a lot, we clashed and bumped heads like no other, he often drove me mad with his crazy ways, nor was he the man to practice cheerleading routines with me as a kid, but hey who cares….

At least I can block a mean roundhouse kick! Pow!