DEAR SANTA CLAUS...

“I believe... I believe... It's silly, but I believe. “ Miracle on 34^th Street

Dear Santy,

Let me first start by saying, I don’t believe in you.  I haven’t since I was a kid. My sister ruined it for me as most older siblings tend to do.  Every Christmas she would make me plot on how we would catch my grandfather putting out gifts, and although the group plan was fun, it clued me in very early on that the gift giving ghost in fact was not you. 

I believed this up until the other day.  Let me explain, it’s not that I now magically believe, but I have started to question my stanch stance on this topic.  The other day I was on the train and there was a little kid soooo very excited about you.  And although in my heart of hearts I know he was excited about simply the thought of you, I couldn't help but to get lured in.  This kid was just so damn sure, that  not only do you deliver gifts, but that you somehow managed to shimmy your fat ass full figured self down his chimney, that for a second…for an itty bitty witty second, I started to waver on my belief.  Hey, we’re all allowed second chances no?

So, I’m writing you not to prove that I believe, but because if I was a gambling woman ( I am not), I don’t think I would put all my money on one horse.  I believe I should in fact diversify. I mean, hey what if this kid was on to something, yes?  So dear old St. Nick, here’s my list, see I must send it to you because yesterday I advised everyone not to give gifts.  Smart for them, but not so much for me, right??!! And well, San, if I may call you San, I do in fact want a gift or 5. I mean it is the season of receivn’, how would I feel if I didn't like...receive anything?  Santa, please reference the below list, I know it’s a little late for the elves to make these from scratch so you can tell ol’ Alabaster to check google, it’s his friend and it should prove to be veeeeerry helpful.

MY VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS LIST:

Cosby DVD Set: Listen, this is and will be forever on the list until I get it.  COME ON SANTA!!!! I know you have back stock! This wouldn't even weigh your sleigh down.  I've been incredibly sad these few weeks, and if you want me to have a happy Christmas, this will do the trick. Nothing makes me happier than my extended family, The Cosby’s.   

Insurance:  Can this be a gift? Really? Like can you give me medical, dental, and vision?  It’s more like a necessity than a gift, but between you and me San *whispers* for some reason the people down here don’t believe it’s a necessity.  Can you imagine?! And since I know you give the elves insurance, I thought you know maybe you can add one more to the plan? Until Obamacare kicks in? just a thought…think on it.  

Urban dictionary:  I was recently told I needed this.  It’s odd that I would need it because it seems like I would be hustling backwards but you know my people and their dialect.  Wooo chile, it can be a doozy.  I recall a conversation I had with a friend of mine who was coming to visit me in NYC.  He mentioned he usually “rolls heavy” and asked me if that was ok.  My response:  “you should really pack light, you’ll be taking the train if you can’t hail a cab and heavy suitcases would not be ideal.”Siggggh,  let’s put it like this, that was NOT the heavy he was talking about.  Eh? Win some, lose some? Hey, man I’m from Shaker Heights, Ohio, what do you want from me? 

A Car: Now, Now, Now Santa….YOU saaaaid YOU bring gifts…you didn't say what gift.  And I want a brand new car! I don’t care if it won’t fit on the sled, its 2012, have that baby shipped! Thank you in advance!

The Clapper: Yooooooooooo the clapper is making a comeback! And I want in! I want to lie in the bed and shut the whole house down in one clap! Like that’s some lazy mofo isht no?  A gift after my own heart, now if I can find something to bring my wine to me with a clap…..

RBD (Robotic Beer Delivery): Oh snap Santy! Pleeeeeaaaaase???? Pretty pahleeeeaaassse???? Yes, I know it delivers beer not wine.  Sooooooo? Close enough! 

An Engagement Ring...Husband...Boyfriend: Hehehehe…juuuuust kidding…you know me, San, always a jokester! Gotta keep you on your toes! Hehehe….  I mean unless you…. can….deliver….. *looks directly at the computer*

I know, I know Santy, you’re making your list and checking it twice.  So I may as well tell you now, I waaaaas a weee bit naughty,  but  the good kind of naughty if you know what I mean! Hell Yayer! *hi fives*, but in the end San, I’m always nice….ALWAYS! And its the nice that counts right? Riiiiigggggght?

Now let’s cover logistics, I live in Brooklyn (for now), just follow the gunshots, the West Indian Music and the sound of the Panamanian’s playing dominoes on the corner, it will lead you right to me! Oh, and don’t waste your time looking for said chimney, use the fire escape like everyone else! Tah, tah! I’ll be waiting,

Auspiciously yours,

Nika

HOLIDAY SURVIVAL TIPS: STEP TWO-THE ART OF GIVING

“Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store.

Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more!”  -Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas

Alrighty folks, we’re in the home stretch, Christmas is near and now is the time to start talking gifts. Well, that is of course if you’re that lame person, who bought gifts last month then, never mind, but if you’re a Late Lucy like most, well this is your prime shopping week and you most likely need some help.

Now before I get into this blog, I must urge you all to implement a “No Gift” policy such as I did this Christmas.  It’s not like I won’t give a gift, but people are more likely to appreciate the handmade ornaments when they don’t expect they're getting a gift,  than expecting a big gift and get some handmade isht. Word. Up!

Hey, we can all sit here and act like Christmas is about something bigger than gifts (which it is, but never mind that religious posts aren't my thing, I’ll let y’all judgmental ones duke it out on Facebook Christmas day)  With that said, I have one tip and one tip only:

Don’t be a hero. 

Yup, I’m talking to YOU!

What does that mean?  Listen, you are not the modern day St. Nicholas.  Kids and family members don’t even know what sugar plums look like let alone have visions of them! So, it is not your job to turn their “visions” into fruition.  Not to be the Grinch that stole your Christmas, but let me give you this little nugget, you can drop $1,000 on your kids and family members and a month from now they won’t even remember it.  Trust me! So, tuck your cape away, your gift isn't going to save Christmas, there will be Christmas next year and my dear Captain what will you do then? Mortgage your house? Because that’s the direction you’re headed!

Let me be clear, the goal of gift giving is set up a level of progression.   Oh silly you, you thought it was to give and give freely. Uhhhh No!  When you give gifts, you have to be able to top each gift each year following it.  It’s an unspoken rule that no one tells you about.  And the only way you can survive a life time of giving gifts is if you ration that shit out! That’s the only way you can do this gift giving thing, IF you choose to do it.  Again, I advise you opt out. But if you stay in, you must, must, must, must temper expectations.  Buy your girlfriend some diamonds your first Christmas together or your kid every American Girl product in the store and homie, you have nowhere to go but down.  DOOOOOWWWWWN!

Let me tell you, for years, I was known as the person that blessed people with my presence. LOL Don’t you roll your eyes, my presence is special…a gift if you will,  one day I’ll bless you with it too! LOL  But It was known, no gifts from Nika and in return, you didn't have to give me a gift either.  Well sort of, this applied to everyone except my father.  Don’t get me wrong he didn't get a gift either, but I ALWAYS expect a gift from that dude.  Yes, I said it.  It’s called payback. I spend 365 days a year as his secretary, personal google, living GPS, phone programmer, cable provider, computer tech…that Negro OWES me!

But I digress.  So no one got gifts, it was expected. And then one Christmas, the spirit of giving was in my heart and I showed up with a few items, a couple of George Foreman grills for the family (I worked for Target), a sweater for my brother in law, a purse for my grandmother etc.   Man listen, it was like they saw the resurrection of Christ with their very own eyes, talk about Glory!  I could have come with glittered covered coal and gotten the same reaction! See that…tempered expectations! Trust me, there’s an art to this!

So what I’m trying to tell you is this, we all wish gift giving was easier.  But people expect you to gift them gifts they never even thought for themselves like somehow you secretly always knew what they wanted and decide to be the great Christmas Savior coming to save Christmas like it’s never been saved before.   Ummm…NO. 

And the reality is, give a bad gift on Christmas and see if you don’t hear about it for the next year! Seriously, just ask my father.   One year this man gave me a ream of paper….a REAM OF PAPER…yes I was in grad school and yes, I was writing paper after paper, but I was getting paper free from my sister’s job! Wouldn't say , I don’t know, CASH have been a better gift than paper?  Paper that I’m still using 8 years later by the way?!?!  I can’t even create reasons to use it! And lord I won’t go into the time him and his wife bought me this sweater with the matching gloves…JESUS! Nope…I won’t do that, I’m too good of a person to go there. (Hit me on the side for that story hehehe) So check this out, my father was on to something, nooo, no, no , no not the sweater that almost got him excommunicated but the ream of paper was an act of a pure genius.  After two years of just ridiculously bad gifts, I never really had any gift expectations of him again.  That needs to be you! <<<See there's a lesson buried in here somewhere, trust me!

Anywho, that wasn't really what I was trying to tell you. HAHAHA! What I’m trying to say is give wisely, give deliberately and most importantly give to be able to give tomorrow (that last one makes sense really).  

Good luck and God speed!

Now inbox me for my address so you simps can send me a gift too!

Tis the season y’all…Tis the season….

HOLIDAY SURVIVAL TIPS: STEP ONE

“Christmas isn't just a day; it's a frame of mind.” Kris Kringle Miracle on 34th Street

When most people think of the holidays they think of joyous occasions, family, fun, love, warmth and any other overly sappy adjective, I do not. HAHAHA Don’t get me wrong, I love the holidays but my views are different based on my experiences.  I’m from a divorced family where my parents literally despised each other, so yeah you can go ahead and delete “family, warmth, and joyous” and add “complicated, angry, delicate”.  I worked in retail as a manager when I was first out of college so you can delete “joyous and fun” and add “exhausting and superficial”. 

Yeah, so that’s the holidays.  LOL Just kidding…not really…but it wasn’t aaaaall bad there were some fun times, but you had to prep for them!  Like most, I looked forward to the holidays but it was with apprehension as you never knew what you would get so you had to attack each holiday like it was the survival of the fittest and your life depended on surviving. 

So with that said, I’m about to hip y’all to a few of my survival tips.  I’ve made it through 30 some odd holidays unscathed WITH my family so I will deem myself as an expert of sorts.  I’ve been in happy situations and in sad, so I have you covered.  Trust me kid, stick with me and not only will you survive the perils of the holiday, but this Christmas will be THEE best you’ve ever had!  So hold on to your Santa hats and put on your Christmas sweaters, this is our series on Holiday Survival Tips.  First up:  mode of transportation.

For some this is easy breezy, fly to your destination.  Easy, you’re done. So, if that’s you, rock on rock star! However some of us are either procrastinators, scared of flying, have too many kids to fly, or simply broke and therefore are forced to find alternate ways of traveling.  Now when you pick these alternative ways to travel you must…I repeat MUST be realistic about your time, your experience, and your temperament.  The last is very important.  What are the alternatives you ask?

      Drive:  This is a no brainer right?  If you can’t afford to fly, you then just drive.  Well, unless you live in New York and well…knowing people with cars is like an anomaly.  There are things that are extremely rare to New Yorkers 1) a person that has a license 2) a person that has a car 3) a friend that’s married 4) a friend that’s married and met her mate in NYC .  Yes, I know points 3 and 4 have nothing to do with this post, but they’re rare and I feel some kind of way about them so I wanted to add them. My blog, my thoughts…BOOM!

So, driving isn’t always so easy. There are tolls out the wazoo, to rent a car is pricey, and gas (from what I hear) is the price of a small child (oh wait, that’s not the saying huh?) But if you choose to drive, there’s one thing you will definitely need, a properly stocked IPOD playlist.  Yes, I know I know…somewhere  there’s a person like, I have my IPOD stocked with Christmas music, Stevie Wonder,  and The Chi-lites (okay maybe I’m the only one with the Chi-lites on my pod…it’s the Cleveland in me…I’m a victim). But hear me when I say, the Chi-lites ain’t gonna get you through a 12 hour drive.  Stevie is great but when “I Never Dreamed You’d Leave in Summer” comes on, you will want to dive right off the road. Listen, at 3 am, when nothing is left awake but you and Bambi, when the fog starts rolling in, when your eyes are as dry as the Sahara Desert and you’re yawning faster than you can breathe, the ONLY thing you can play is what I call the 1/2 whammy!

What’s the 1/2 whammy?  You have to play a cd that makes you sing at the top of your lungs with no holds barred coupled with a cd that makes you want to dance your socks off- back to back. You save these two albums for this moment, and you don’t play them a second earlier.  It’s like breaking the emergency glass.  My go to 1/2 whammy is Bobby Brown’s “Don’t Be Cruel” followed by Prince’s “Purple Rain”.  You have not seen a concert until you’ve seen me perform these albums! Word. Up.   Play your 1/2 whammy and you’ll extend the lifespan of your trip tremendously.

Car survival tip: Invest in a good play list, do not take this lightly or you’ll be crying in your redbull, all 3 of them.  This is all fact. 

     Train:  This only works if you’re in the Northeast area of this country.  Do not take the train from NYC to Chicago that shit is like 28 hours and soooo not worth it!  And unless you have the stamina for bullshit I wouldn’t suggest doing this past 4 hours.  The further you go, the more the train’s clientele is less Wall Street and more….well…more…street? Seriously, after 5 hours the train becomes the Greyhound.  Trust me on this, this is a proven fact! The price is cheap but don’t let that fool you. 

But if you insist here’s your survival tip on the train:  Ladies, wait until it comes to a full stop to use the bathroom.  There’s no amount of skills that allow you to squat and pee in motion. Sadly, this TOO is a proven fact.

     The bus: Sigggghhhh do you all know my bus woes?  Oh man, I loathe the bus, like hate the bus…sadly, I’m always on the bus! But all buses are not created equal.  Do you hear me? ALL BUSES ARE NOT CREATED EQUAL! Remember that, that could spare you pain and tears, and I mean REAL TEARS!

**Bolt Bus/Mega bus: These buses are lifesavers for those of us that like to shoot down 95 for some escapery (yes, I tooootally made that word up lol).  They like to call these luxury buses; please do not be fooled luxury they are not! But occasionally they come with wifi and outlets (when they work) and cost about a third of what the train costs so eh, it could be worth it.

**Chinatown Express:  Don’t play yourself.  Period. IF you choose to take this method of transpo you’re on your own, it was lovely knowing you.  I’ll write a poem and eulogize your funeral.  It will be something like.

Fool, Fool, Fool

I told him no

Fool Fool Fool

He still chose to go.

The end *curtsy*

**Greyhound:  Listen…there’s so much I can say about the Greyhound. Seriously, save this method for longer than 5 hours IF you must take it.  Here’s the reason why, often times Greyhound runs a special, 5 bucks to Philly or DC.  And here’s what I’ve noticed, (yes I’ve tried it too because well…hey…5 bucks is hard for anyone to turn down) even a homeless person can muster up 5 dollars.  TRUE EFFIN STORY!  I saw a family of four MOVE on the greyhound 5 dollar special. MOVE THEIR STUFF! It was like 30 suitcases. True story, I can’t make this up!

The other thing about the Greyhound is this. Let me be just frank about it, you are not about that life, and if you are taking it you better make damn sure you are! When I was younger me and my sister were pro’s at riding the greyhound. We were often shuttled back and forth from Tennessee to Cleveland and that was ALWAYS our mode of transportation.  We had some serious rules to that joint mainly because this was in the late 80’s/90’s and shit was real on that bus.

1)      No two people could sleep at the same time. One must stay up and watch the surroundings.  We once both went to sleep and some tried to steal our sandwiches my grandmother made us, hence the rule.

2)      Hoodies only and your hair MUST be tucked in it! We were buying tickets at the counter and saw a flea or some flea like substance jump off a person and from that point on we never ever ever ever ever left any skin exposed.  NEVER EVER EVER EVER!

3)      If you are separated because two seats aren’t together. NO ONE SLEEPS and you have to check on each other periodically.  IF you are forced to sit next to someone unfavorable, you will take turns switching seats. I once was next to a man that smelled like open raw onions. It was so tragic that I can remember exactly how it smelled to this very day as if it happened yesterday. This happened well over 25 years ago. 

Bus Survival tip: Be about that life.

Listen, half of the battle of surviving the Holidays is getting to your destination.  You have to be mentally and physically prepared for such an excursion especially since your route can determine how the trip goes.  And yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…somebody flying on Airtran will comment like “I fly everywhere I go” *sucks teeth* Airtran and Southwest don’t count. Period. 

For those of us that need to be slightly creative about how to travel, here’s my bottom line tip.   Wait for it….the distance to and from your destination when added together shouldn’t be longer than your actual stay.  Don’t get so creative that you spend all of your time traveling and none of your time visiting! LOL.  I took the train from NYC to Cleveland once, tricked by my father saying it would be fun.  It was a 24 hour ride TO Cleveland, I stayed one day and had to head back, THEE dumbest decision of my life.  It happened, you learn, and you move on.

Hey man, I’m trying to put you up on game (no this doesn’t fit here, but it sounds good.  Yes?) Don’t say you haven’t been warned.  Cheers and happy traveling to you! Next up, gift giving…

*Nik smirk and ice sickle toss*

POWERBALLIN'

I'm so bossy, b*tch get off me

Trick get off me, you can't get sh*t off me

I'm so flossy, no 6's on Sprees

Laid back, Maybachs, don't even talk to me ~Jay-Z “Ignorant Sh*t”

Dear friends,

Please allow me this moment in time to apologize.  Yes, Yes, Yes to apologize.  To whom? Well…to you.  Yes, to you my friends.  For what you may ask? For what is to come when I win the Powerball tonight.  Ooooh, yes and then there’s that!  Because my loves, please believe I will be winning at least in my mind, at this very moment, at this very time, right here right now…I WILL BE WINNING! Okay, okay, okay….well maybe it’s not so certain, but please give me a moment to just dream about winning, is that alright with you?

Now back to my apology, I apologize for the pure D’ ignorance that will ensue right after my number is called and I have to tell you, because I feel it lurking on the surface, it won’t be pretty.   It’s not that it’s my intention on embarrassing you as my friend, or shaming you, or to be braggadocios (just kidding, this one I probably really mean…I mean coooome on, it would be too easy!), it’s just that IF I win the Powerball, I’m certain another being will take hold of me and I’m not sure I could control it.  I’m not sure I would want to control it.  Hell, I might like it, now wouldn't THAT be something!  I don’t know how I’ll act because, I've never been an ummm...millionaire? A thousandaire? LOLOL Shi…beyotch I’m a freelancer…you don’t have to see my bank account to do my math! Lol So, I don’t know much, but what I DO know is IF I won, I would do the following things:

1) Quit my job.  Yes, I know the payout isn't immediate. No I don’t care.  Hell, I wouldn't even call and       quit, I would be a straight up no show.  I might even send a text saying “Has anyone seen Nika?” followed by a picture of me drinking a bottle of champagne straight out the bottle.  Ignorant? Uh huh.  Rude? Sure. Satisfying? Fuck yeah!

2)  Since NYC requires you to have a conference.  I will straight DIVA out on them.   I’ll send notice by   Jeffro (yes I will hire me a runner strictly off of an IOU) and in this notice it will have my Rider. In my Rider it will state, in order to see me I must be addressed by my ENTIRE name, if you don’t know it…figure it out…if you can’t figure it out, you can’t address me.  (hehehe)  No one can look me directly in the eye.  It must be catered by Red Lobster (ultimate feast only with extra butter and extra Cheddar Bay biscuits) Man listen….when I’m done this “conference mandate” will be amended. Please believe!  Hahahaha

No seriously, wtf? How are you going to MAKE me have a conference about MY money?! Where they do that at? If that’s the case, let’s have a conference now?  

“Attention great people of NYC: I, Nika, am broke as fuuuuuuuuuck.  Send me some money?”

3)  Okay back to my Lottopallozza, before I get to the conference I will take the money out of my account that I currently have.....umm hmmm…in ones…and make it rain whilst playing "Bands a Make Her Dance" from my iPhone .  And you know what?  Eff it,while I’m at it…I might…Yo…juuussst I might…do this all while wearing a full length fur, wife beater, stilettos, with doorknockers. I mean if I’m going to be a stereotype, I may as well deliver, you feel me?!?! *hi fives* 

4)  Now, the first thing I will do AFTER said conference, is call all my creditors and tell them to kiss my a** annnnnd   &%$*# a payment plan. I will do this 3 times a day even on Sundays. It’s called karma, and I believe I’m owed my 40 acres and a muthaeffin mule! Word!

5)  I will then secure a portion of my money for post-trick off, living fund.  Oh yes….post trick off living fund.   LOLOL (ohhhh this is fun) 

6)  A few ways I will trick off the remainder of my money:

• Travel to every 3rd world country………………………in search for a child to adopt.  Hahahahahaha Y'all thought I was going to be on some humanitarian isht huh? Nope.  When I make it big I’m going to be big like Hollywood big, and everyone knows the path to Hollywood is a little 3rd world baby?!  I will need me one. It will take money to find one. Don’t blame me, blame the system. I’m a victim. 
• Why would I need to adopt a child? Well, I’m a writer.  I work in television. I could do movies….with my money I could produce my own movies.  I could be better than Tyler Perry.  But I need in the inner circle and since I can’t go Scientology rigggght? Hey man, save a kid, make it big. What?

You know what….let me stop here. I feel the more I write the further away from winning I get LOL.  I don’t want God to think I can’t win because I don’t know how to act. LOL

I mean, I knoooow how to act…kind of….I mean I totaaally act properly while I’m broke…buuutt...siggggh I’m just saying…..

Okaaaay…..Sorry???

I mean what would you do if you won?

A VERY NIKA THANKSGIVING

“Nobody loves me, nobody cares,

Nobody picks me peaches and pears.
Nobody offers me candy and Cokes,
Nobody listens and laughs at me jokes.
Nobody helps when I get into a fight,
Nobody does all my homework at night.
Nobody misses me,
Nobody cries,
Nobody thinks I'm a wonderful guy.
So, if you ask me who's my best friend, in a whiz,
I'll stand up and tell you NOBODY is!
But yesterday night I got quite a scare
I woke up and Nobody just WASN'T there!
I called out and reached for Nobody's hand,
In the darkness where Nobody usually stands,
Then I poked through the house, in each cranny and nook,
But I found SOMEBODY each place that I looked.
I searched till I'm tired, and now with the dawn,
There's no doubt about it-
NOBODY'S GONE!!” ― Shel Silverstein

***Oh my, like don’t you just loooooooooove Shel Silverstein!!!! ***

All of last week I kept trying to remind myself to write a Thanksgiving post and in typical Thanksgiving fashion, I decided the post should be about all the things I was thankful for.  But to be honest and completely transparent (as if I wasn’t going to be) I was having a hard time coming up with a list, hence the delay in the post.   

Don’t get me wrong, yes I’m grateful for the usual suspects: To be breathing-because who wants to be dead? To have my parents: because where would I be without them blah blah blah, those are given, and I thank God for them every day (sorry you’re not privy to my prayers).  However, let’s be honest those don’t reeeeaaally make for good reading. So In my effort to reach past my lust for air, and I was coming up short...like waaaay short.  I just couldn't think of more things to be thankful for…period.

Now, if I divulge more, I must tell you that I’m having a really, really, really rough month like incredibly tough and because of that I've been very mopey and just blaaaaah.  Basically, I've been hosting one helluva pity party all by my lonesome!  With that said, whilst tossing glitter at my soiree of one, it was really bothering me that I couldn't come up with one thing to be thankful for… Crazy right???  As crazy and self-consumed as that sounds (yes I know it’s waaaay me, me, me), I was supes intrigued by it, I mean word Nik? Nothing? It made me WANT to come up with a list like I NEEDED to come up with a list. 

So one morning afternoon, while lying in the bed sitting at the table with my bottle glass of wine... Hell, you know the deal. We’re grown here and well…when in doubt, drink it out. *hi-fives*   But I digress, as I was saying while sitting at the table with my wine about 1/4 in *ahem*…1/2 in….*ahem*…oh hell 3/4 in…it came to me! A list of things I’m thankful for:

Nik’s Thankful Thanksgiving of 2012:

Living a scabie free life:

Why not starts this list off with a bang?! Y’all know I’m a freelancer right? And as a freelancer one of the things I pride myself is being a woman of many trades, yes *nods head in excitement* much like an umm….renaissance woman! Let me explain, as a freelancer not only are you well versed in your skill set because you're constantly hustling for a job but most freelancers lack insurance. So you need to be a Homeopathologist, a M.D., a Psychiatrist, and a Nurse.  You have to be creative about your diagnosis, ingenious about your treatments, and sparing with your doctor’s appointments. So with that said, my faaaaavorite website is webMD.com.  Yes, yes, yes I know it’s my gift and my curse BUT sometimes it’s helped me.  NOOOOOO, not the time when I thought I had and diagnosed myself with a brain tumor but that time I had the sinus infection I was dead on!!!!  Hey, you win some you lose some...

Yo the other day, I was perusing the site trying to find a symptom that matched my current problem *side eye*. And I ran across scabies.  Dear God!  Do…you…know…what…scabies…are? Like have you ever….googled it?  Do it right now.  I’ll wait……..

What THEE entire fuck right????? It’s like having your own personal parasite or 10! Oh and lord don’t let it be of the crusty species….*looks to the heavens* I mean it's called "The seven-year itch" for Christ's sake!!! Today, tomorrow, and for any day to come, I am grateful for living a scabie free life.  The End!

Bacon:

I mean need I write about this?  When God made the heavens, earth, Adam and Eve…we were blessed with bacon! It’s in the hidden chapters trust me (or not) on this.  I mean yeah yeah yeah, there’s something in there about casting a demon or two into the swine….never mind that.  It’s of God, this I know, you know why?? Because happiness lives there. Period, the end, don’t even question it.  I mean why would something so good...be like….not good?! (Don’t answer that)

Footies on sale at target: 

Yo this seems like a simple thing. But it is not. Imagine this: 

*me

*walking around NYC

*already feeling down and rejected

*low and lonely

*cast out…an outcast if you will

You get the point…

*an hour into my excursion the elastic gives out on my only pair of footies left with no hole in the heel (that shit’s real!)

*it doesn't just give out, it creeps to the most sensitive part of my foot… the arch

*no matter how I try, the tricks I pull, no safety pin is enough, I cannot get the footie to stay…

*I try and I try

*I try and I try

*my foot is starting to chafe and I want to cry (you know i never miss a good rhyme)

*walk into target and glory be to God! A footie sale….

I.Am.Thankful.

My local winery:

Listen….okay…hey…sooooo….yeah….ummmmm….this speaks for itself right???

Bacon:

Swine so fine, its good fo my mind.  Thank you sweet baby Jesus!

Heat:

So I live in NYC, and no one does project, Sahara desert, burn you to a crisp, dehydrating to your soul, kill your plants and your sinuses, dry your eye sockets, wilt your lettuce, seal your containers, steam your clothes, evaporate your water- heat like an NYC apartment building.  How-some-ever, the other day it was like 30 degrees and I decided that maaaaybe I should be grateful for it.  I mean, I’m sure there’s someone out in the cold that would want to suck the luster out of their skin and perspire through their night clothes, bed sheets, and fresh blowout…..I’ve just never encountered them. So yeah, I"m thankful....I guess. 

Bacon:

The other white meat…made so sweet. Hallelu!

Hair to actually wash:

I haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate like hate, hate, hate to wash my own hair.  I just recently cut it off for hopes that I will want to do it more and more often. I mean less hair has to mean less pain? No?  Yet as much as I hate it, I mean I could have alopecia rigggggght?  And that would just totally suck.  So I maybe I should hate it less, and thank it more.  Thank you hair for being on my head.

Ummm……wheeeewww….this is harder than I thought…..

Soooo Bacon? No? Not again? 

See what I mean??????   *Nika shrug….makes mental note to get more wine* Sigggghhhh ……

Well, at least I don’t have scabies….

A POEM BY NIKA

"Those who do not weep, do not see.” ― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

Once upon a time there was a young lady who cried,

She cried so much people thought certainly someone died!

It wasn't that she cried because she was sad…

It wasn't that she cried because she was mad…

She wasn't in pain…

And she certainly didn't cry in vain

Yet this young lady cried and she cried very much.

She cried over big things and some little things too

People who've wronged her and wronged also you.

But then she cried because she was happy and joyous as well,

See why this young lady cried no one could really tell.

People were confused and found it quite bizarre

Some would offer their condolences, regrets from afar.

‘Cause people were afraid of getting close for fear of repercussions,

Afraid of coming near, afraid to spark a discussion.

In return the young lady masked her tears

She hid them from her loved ones… she hid them from her peers.

She felt ashamed of her leaking tear ducts.

They were sensitive and confused people, which totally fucking sucked.

Then one day she was thinking as she was wiping her tears,

Some things are what they are, and she certainly IS who she is.

And if you can’t be who you are, around your family or peers

Then you should reconsider your company or at least have some that endear.

Because in the end if a tear runs them away

Or even makes them stray…

Friends they were not;

They just weren't meant to be, so no need to be fraught.

Alas the young lady embraced her tears, ready to shed them another day.

Be it joyous occasions, or gloom or even in dismay.

She was ready to be the EMO girl she was called to be.

She’s a crier DAMN IT….and that girl is me.

The End….

THE LEADER OF THE HOT SAUCE REVOLUTION

“The revolution will not be televised. The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox in 4 parts without commercial interruptions...”     Gil Scott-Heron

Hello loves!

I thought I would do a post about the election, but I’m so emotionally invested, I just can’t.  I can’t bring myself to make light of it, because it’s way too serious.  Moreover, I can’t bring myself to type a serious political post because I’m way on edge.  So I will stay clear today.  Instead, I will give you something to lighten the mood, and depending on how this election turns out, I will give you the election post on Thursday? Sounds like a plan? Wait, why am I asking you? It’s my blog and the Leo in me says it is so! So Boom snitches!

By the way,  please go out and vote.  I won’t try to dictate to you who to vote for, however I will say if you don’t vote at all, I’m certainly judging you and dropping you into a filtered box.  What filtered box you say? The one that says “Don’t fool with this person EVER”…I mean if you can’t care to vote for your future, you just can’t be trusted-simply put!

But on to lighter topics…

I often speak about the moments in my childhood that made me the person I am today, you know those “forks” in the road where you went left instead of right or perhaps your parents went right instead of left and you were indirectly influenced by their decision. There often isn't just one moment, there are many that help shape us, that design our behaviors, and influence our thoughts. So when my sister called me the other day about an incident with my niece, I had an opportunity to reflect on one particular moment in my life, a moment so significant that, it helped shape my ideas about being a wife and a mother.

To give you some context to this story, my mother, the marvelous and wonderful Ms. Bev, is from Tennessee.  She’s a southerner through and through even though when I was a kid she hid that little tidbit from the naked eye.  I mean she didn't hide it on purpose per se but to the naked eye you wouldn't know she was from the south.  However, there were certain things she did or didn't do that were clear indications that her roots were strong!  Not that there’s anything wrong (disclaimer) with strong southern roots, but if you put your kids in a suburban school that was predominately white, your southern views may not necessarily conform and would possibly conflict with the norm.  Is this a bad thing? Not always, but in some cases….yes.  As a kid, I truly struggled with my mother’s southern ways, or old school way of doing things.

Let me explain.  What’s the most important thing to a kid school wise? Like what’s the most important time of the day for a kid in school?  Lunch, right?!  There was absolutely nothing more important than lunch aside from maybe recess, but since recess wasn't consistent, I would say lunch. It’s when you had your one free time when you could socialize with your friends and have a break in your day.  And because of that, there was soooo much importance hinging on lunch.  Your coolness, your popularity, and your social status, lunch sometimes determined it all.  No? Just at my elementary school?  HAHAHA! Who knows, but what I DO know is it’s because of this “socializing” that I was doomed from the beginning. Yup, from the moment I got to my elementary school in the 2^nd grade, I had no chance.   No, really, I’m not being dramatic. Ok, maybe a little bit, but here are some clues as to when I knew I would never win the lunch room game:

 

      1) My mother bought all generic food:

      Do you all remember the generic brand?  Yes, I know I’m about to tell my age but, for example, there were Ruffles, Lays, and then you would have a generic brand and to indicate its “generic-ness” it was packaged in a white bag with black lettering and it was called the name of the product, in this case “Potato Chips”. Yup, that damn simple.  Now as a kid, would you want that? Hmmmm? Yes, yes, yeeeees…spare me the tale of the starving Ethiopian kid.  We’re on some superficial isht right now, and superficially would you want some isht that just said potato chips? Or better yet, quarter-water instead of Capri sun?  Like, I went to school with some of the wealthiest people in this country, quarter-water mommy????? Ugh!

<    2)    My mother worshiped aluminum foil:

This right here??  oooh weee…you’d think she had stock in the company.  Aluminum foil was like a gift from God.  There wasn't anything she couldn't do with a piece of foil! Cook with it, line the oven and stove top with it, use it as a top for bottles, use it to keep food hot, use it to keep food cold, use it to secure our beads, hell even a little bowl for hair grease… I mean that joint had many purposes in our house but the worst one hands down was that she wrapped our lunches in it!  There was not one piece lacking the shiny adornment.  Apple? Check.  Sandwich? Check.  Chips? Check.  Thermos of Kool-Aid? (yes, you read that right KOOL-AID! It was the nutritional juice of our house and what?) Check!  

You would open your lunch and that joint would shiiiiiiiine like the top of the Chrysler building.  It was blinding, it was devastating, and it was a lunch trading turn off.  I mean, how much more did sandwich bags cost anyway? It’s the main reason I have like 4 different zip lock bags in my house now.  Hi, my name is Nika and I have PTSD!

<   3)    Used grocery bags instead of buying the cute little brown paper bags:

      Whew….this post is hard to write. I’m having flashbacks as I type this, THAT’S how painful this was as a kid.  Imagine this; everyone has the cute little brown paper bags, you know the small ones you can fit in your back pack and here I come, with the super large grocery bag, rolled down. So large that it’s almost pitiful to watch me pull out just a sandwich, apple, and quarter water. It almost seems as if I should pull out a pot roast or something from grandma’s house.  My mother’s reasoning?  I’m not buying paper bags when we have these good bags from the grocery store! Siggghhhh, this woman is sooo lucky I still love her.

<    4)    And last, but certainly not least, made lunches that no one appreciated but black folks:

Yeah I said it and I meant it, what?  Listen, you take a pork chop sandwich WITH the bone in it, WITH hot sauce as the condiment WRAPPED in aluminum foil to a PREDOMINANTLY WHITE JEWISH SCHOOL and explain that to your classmates!    Now the only reason I give my mother a pass on this one is that she went to a segregated school and I suppose her classmates were happy to see a pork chop sandwich or two, but when you’re a kid and you hear “ Is that a bone hanging out of your bread???”, you just want to curl up and die.  DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

So listen, I’m not sure what you did in your schools, but lunches in my elementary school was all about “trading”.  You scoped out each other’s food to determine who had the best lunches or items you wanted that they perhaps didn't want, and you bartered your lunch for theirs.  The best items were string cheese, Capri Suns,  Doritos or anything that came in that mixed bag of BRAND NAME chips and without these items, you were losing and losing bad!  Plus, you already have sooooo many things to battle as a kid, lunch really shouldn't be one of them. 

What most parents don’t get but what I vowed as a kid I would always remember is that socializing is just as important to your success as your performance.  This is important! Listen, I promise you I had anxiety daily, not knowing what my mother packed for lunch. It was always, a surprise. It was always a gamble.  It was rarely a win.  And sadly, she would be so excited when I came home to see if I liked my lunch seeing as pork chops is one of my faaaaaavorite meals ….*ahem* AT HOME! LOL.   I couldn't bear to even tell her the truth. I mean I used to try to get her to make me a “regular lunch” all the time, but she really thought she was “hooking” me up and then she would dare me to be different.  Yes, then there's that...sigghhh..so I just gave up.  But now I stand up for all of the kids with bad lunches.

My PSA to the parents:  If pork chop sandwiches is the going lunch, by all means hot sauce on, but if mozzarella and basil sandwiches is what’s happening at your kids school, GIVE THEM THAT! Don’t force your kid to be a “leader” in shit that doesn't matter.  No one is leading a revolution with a pork chop sandwich in one hand and a quarter-water in the other.   Sometimes a child just wants to be one of the kids.

Peace…

The Lone Leader of the Hot Sauce Revolution

MYTHBUSTER, MEN’S EDITION

“Here's all you have to know about men and women: women are crazy, men are stupid. And the main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid.” George Carlin

A few weeks ago I did a mythbuster post about the women, so it’s only right that I do one on the men.  Yes, Yes, Yes I know, you’re thinking “what do I know about busting myths about men?” and to be quite honest, probably nothing.  Hell, the more I think I know about men, the more I realize that I know… not a damn thing.  Siiiigggghhh but I’ll give it a shot….eff it…YOLO!  

Please realize that as I type this, this is totes from a women’s perspective, but my fellow men, please feel free to chime in?  Since I know you all read this blog *looks directly at you*

Nik’s Mythbusting Mythbuster….about men:

1)      Men can handle any and everything.

I don’t know what or who gave us our view on men, but somehow we’ve made the men in our lives a superhuman species.  As women, we’re allowed to have fear, be scared, cry, have stress and any and every other emotion we can conjure up yet for some reason let our man have a moment and we’ve categorized him as weak.  It’s odd. Fear is fear, stress is stress and I’m perplexed as to why we assume our men shouldn’t react as so. 

Ladies, ladies, ladies  too many times I see women dump the burden of the household on their husband, boyfriend, live in, man…whomever, and this is unfair.  Stress has many side effects to it, like heart disease, high blood pressure etc.  If you want to be with your partner from here until eternity, I suggest you learn to bear some of that burden and PARTNER with your man.  He’s is not invincible and certainly not above the perils of stress.

2)      Men don’t feel pain.

Okay, have we talked about how I lived with my father in high school?  This would be my test market and because of this I have deemed myself an expert of sorts on this topic (If you knew my father, you’d know why) there’s no one intolerant to pain like that man!  Shit, he’s “sick” as I type this, and if he calls me one more time coughing in the phone… *punches air* 

Anywho, the quickest way to prove this theory wrong is to watch a guy get…let’s say…a chest cold. -_-  hahaha I believe I can end this one here.  Listen, if a guy gets the sniffles, be prepared to stop everything you’re doing to cater to that man.  When God made men, he made them brute, brawn, but softer than Charmin. This. Is. A. Fact.  #missingverseingenesis

3)      Gossiping is just for women.

There’s some man out there that’s reading this like “Who??? I don’t gossip?!’ Pah-lease! Not only do men gossip and talk, but they are always in the know.  Where do you think we get our info from???? LOLOL.  Yo, one time I broke my leg in graduate school, and my friend that was staying with me and helping me out (he’s going to kill me) used to read my gossip magazines on the low, but didn’t want anyone to know, however since I totaled my car and was on crutches, our magazine collection came to an instantaneous halt.  So one day he was like “Aye, when your friends come over to bring you dinner, why don’t you tell them to pick up some of those magazines you like to read” and had the nerve to whisper it to me.  Sir?????   

4)      Men hate conversation ESPECIALLY over the phone

Men don’t just gossip, they like to talk too…a lot.  My longest phone convos  that I have are with men…about nothing.  Okay no I take that back, it’s been about something….THEM.  Men are SUPES talkative!!!! It always kills me when they complain that women talk, ha! Men will go on, and on, and on, and on about their favorite topic, themselves! That’s the tee hee hee of it all!  Listen, of my 3 best male friends, I know eveeeeerything about them.  They will attempt to tell you about me, they will be wrong. Trust me on this, I test them every so often, they never fail to disappoint. 

5)      Men are concerned about matching bras and panties.

Warning this may be TMI, but show me a guy who cares about such a thing and I have a bridge to sell you.  Don’t get me wrong, you can’t just wear your PP’s (period panties) on such occasions lol I mean let’s NOT be trifflin’ now however, my teal bra and fuchsia undies have never gone noticed.  Hell, he may just think I probably go commando or something.  If you think I’m lying next time you’re with your loved one, test it.  I triple dog dare you to wear a polka dot bra and leopard undies and you report back and tell me if HE noticed.  I won’t hold my breath…carry on….

6)      Men care about hairstyles and weave quality.

So, it’s not so much that they don’t caaaaaaare about the way their girl looks per se. I suppose they do. However the little nuances like poor weave/wig quality, a shit load of makeup, or freeze dried hair doesn’t necessarily scare them off as we think it would.  One time a friend asked  me about a girl and my immediate response was “I mean her weave looks ridiculous, like did she need all 42inchs?? And she has mad foundation on, do you even know what she looks like under that?? Her lashes?? A witch perhaps?? ” His response….. “Soooo?”   LOLOL  I knew right then that our views of attractiveness were different and what I was looking at, he didn’t necessarily see.  Now don’t ask me what he was looking at or for, I have no answers. But I’ll assume her flat stomach and fat ass overrode the potential welfare of the genes of their future children. But I digress, what I’m trying to say is, a chick wearing a cat on her head has never stopped them from….well…ummm…you fill in the blank  -_-   

7)      Men don’t have feelings and aren’t emotional.

Okay, So I’m going to be honest. I just kind of heard this is true, aside from my daddy I’ve never really seen this proven and I’ve only seen him emotional once or twice in my 36 years.  So, I thiiiiiiiink men may get emotional, the only problem is that it doesn’t stay long enough for me to make it a tried and true fact.  That shit is fleeting and when I say fleeting, I mean abracadabra!  From my research, men are only emotional if their pride is hurt.  Is pride synonymous to feelings? I think it’s as close as we can get eh? Yeah, I said it. POW!

8)      Men don’t like intimacy.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.  No one, Nobody, NO-BODY likes to cuddle more than men.  No one likes to hold hands in public more than men.  No one likes caresses more than men. Why this has become a myth is beyond me!   They hide it from each other like its taboo.  As if finding out they like to spoon all night long is indication that they are crying in their cornflakes every day.  Don’t be ashamed that you like to snuff the space out of your lady!  Fellas, claim that shit!

9)     All men are dogs

My bad, this is actually not a myth…

10)   Men know exactly who they are and what they want

The reality is everyone struggles with this.  No one gender is any wiser about who they are and what they want.  We are confused. They are confused.  We chase our “ideal” guy, they chase their “ideal” girl. When you’re delusional, you’re delusional and having a penis doesn’t give you anymore clarity than the next.  The only problem is we as women have decided that they know who they want and what they want, and are waiting for them to want us. Uhhhh no!  The power lies in you too….boo (sorry y’all know I can’t fight a good rhyme).

11)   Men can’t cook or clean.

Okay,  last post we spoke of my skills *ahem* or lack thereof they were on a bit of the struggle side for a woman, but on the flip side some men can really throw down! Listen, I have a friend from Mississippi who can not only cook the meanest pork chop and gravy dish I’ve ever had, but mopped my floor so well I could eat off that joint.  I will never doubt the skills of a man again; as a matter of fact one of the things on my “list” is a domesticated man, because lord knows I most certainly am….not.

I have sooooo many more, soooo many more, but to be fair I didn’t want men to believe I’m picking on them.  I mean there is “Men can’t be into fashion”, “PMS is only for women”…  I mean I could go on for daaaaays but we’re not here for my vent session or are we? LOL Listen, these myths are expertly proven.  They ARRREEE trust me! I have seen, experienced, reacted, and now I’m trying to tell you!   It’s a dangerous job, but someone has to do it no?

Sincerely,

Nika, the people’s advocate

Now who’s gonna check me boo?????

THROWBACK THURSDAY: “YOU'VE GOT THE JUICE NOW…”

Come get me, that's if you want to sip the juice
Cause the streets await me, so I take my gun off safety
Cause alot of ni**az hate me
Coming out of the building, they set me up
Sprayed with automatics, they wet me up
In a puddle of blood, I lay close to the edge
I guess I didn't know the ledge....
Eric B. and Rakim “Juice”

“You don’t know what people are going through.”

This simple statement has become one of my many mantras of sorts.  I first heard it stated emphatically and repeatedly back in 2005 or so and whenever I’m seconds from popping off on someone, or I feel that I want to trip someone on the sidewalk or issue a donkey punch into a round house kick to the person who’s a tad too close on the subway, I always reflect on this statement.  For real, for real, let me tell you good people of NYC, be blessed and thank your lucky stars I don’t know how to make a shank on the spot out of a bobby pin and a sharpie marker because I promise you, there would be victims from Time Square to Crown Heights! It is what it is.  Judge me now or judge me later, but you have to walk in my nude ballet flats to know my pain! 

Anywho, let me stay on task.  Listen, I know by now you all have seen that video of the bus driver uppercutting that young lady with the oh so flowery mouth. Yes, this would be the video that was taken in my lovely hometown of Cleveland and let me take a moment to thank (NOT) all of those sweet enough to tag me, email me, inbox me, facebook me, and text me the link…like that was my Uncle or something! *sucks teeth*  I digress,  the point is, the moment I saw the video this was THEE exact and only phrase that came to mind.

“You don’t know what people are going through.”

Now, that video was tragic in every sense, on both sides, we all saw it so I won’t go into details.  And yes, I know we all have differing views on the reaction of the bus driver, so again no details here. But what I will say is I, of all people, understand the perils of public transportation.  Moreover, I also understand when said perils can push you close to the edge.   I know this personally and through the eyes of others.  Listen, when you put people who would NEVER in any circumstances EVER cross paths except for your daily commute, anything and everything can and will happen. Why? Because everyone has their breaking point, and some people can’t seem to respect that. Word. Up. 

Once several years ago I was on the 3 train, with my roommate at the time and we were commuting home from Bed, Bath and Beyond. Please don’t ask me why I remember these details like it happened 2 days ago when I can’t even remember what shoes I wore to work yesterday, my mind man, it’s a dangerous thing hahaha! Anywho, I was on the 3 and it pulled into the 72^nd street station and these two professional women (one Hispanic and one Black) got on the train.  So, how do I know they were professional?  Well, they both had on suits and functional pumps (that’s important as too high of a heel indicates a poser and quasi-stripper or hood rat…kind of one in the same but nevermind that) In a nutshell, they were dressed very conservatively.   Anywho, they hop on the train and unbeknownst to me and the other riders, the Black chick accidentally elbowed the other as they were going to their seats. Could it have been a simple mistake? Probably. She was on her hustle to get her seat and the Hispanic chick was in the line of fire.  It happens, she knew the rules, gotta stay on the good foot on the train yo.   Well rules or not, the Hispanic chick wasn’t having it. She was pissed and was persistent in letting the Black girl know she was pissed.  And when I say persistent, I mean from 72^nd street to 96^th street she kept mumbling and talking about it…..NONSTOP!

Okay let me pause to explain where I was in all of this. I was sitting directly across from them.  I actually thought they were friends because it seemed to be some type of familiarity to each other the way the Black girl kept dismissing her. 

Wait,  there’s no better way for me to give you this story than to lay it out in dialog:

Hispanic chick:  “You didn’t have to elbow me to get to the seat…”

Black chick: “I said I was sorry”

HC: “I mean that’s ridiculous you know...like to elbow me to get to the seat…”

BC: “Listen, I said I was sorry”

HC: *more elbow, elbow , elbow *(paraphrasing)

BC: “Shut up”

HC: *Elbow Elbow Elbow Elbow*

BC: “Shut THE FUCK up…”

HC: *Elbow Elbow Elbow Elbooooooooow bowww bowwww bowwwww * (really it felt like this, even I was annoyed)

**so this is when it takes a turn for the worse because clearly the Black chick was annoyed too…**

In one swift move rivaled by only something I’ve only seen in movies like X-men,  like supernatural isht, the Black chick was on top of the Hispanic chick punching her square in the face, while her other hand (not punching) was ramming her head into the window! (Lightweight violent huh?)

The train scatters to polar ends.  I however, stay in my seat.  Partly stunned and partly scared to get caught in the melee.

As the Black girl was punching her, with every hit she said:

You *punch*

keep *punch*

talking *punch*

and *punch*

talking *punch*  

and *punch*

I *punch*

told *punch*

you *punch*

to *punch*

shut *punch*

the *punch*

fuck *punch*

up*punch*

I *punch*

said *punch*

sorry*punch*  

but *punch*

you *punch*

wouldn’t *punch*

stop *punch*

*Here it comes*

 YOU *punch* DON’T *punch* KNOW *punch* WHAT*punch* PEOPLE *punch* ARE*punch* GOING *punch* THROUGH!!!! *punch*

Yooooooo, this monologue was delivered with a series rapid firing flawless uppercuts, jabs, side dome hits, and head slams.  In a nutshell, she went in!!! Her purse and all of its contents was scattered all over the subway floor and it didn’t even matter.  She had seen the light, the red one that is, and had zoned slam the eff out. She was no longer with us, she was somewhere else and it was no longer about the elbow, the seat, or the mouthy chick next to her. It was about something deeper and more tragic that only she knew about. 

It was sad actually. Not for the chick that got her ass beat, no shade, but lady, you knew what it was when you climbed on the train.  It was sad for the chick who had let her problems compound in a way that a feather could have dusted her shoulder and sent her into a rage. And let me go on the record and say, although the spontaneous brawl WAS indeed funny to the outsider (me), I did take a moment to pray for her because my heart did certainly feel her pain whatever it was that day.

Anywho, I bet y’all want to know how it ended right? Did she get arrested? Did The Hispanic chick cut her? Cry? Did I ever get up and move out the way? (Yes, you know you’re wondering if I was still sitting there annnnnnnd I was. Hahahahaha!)

So she’s pounding on her punching bag, I mean the other chick:

Random train rider: “Coooome ooooon lady, you won! It’s over already!”

(something to note:  the train was being held at this point, if an investigation ensued they would take the train out of service leaving folks no way to get from 96 higher on the 2/3 line. It would have made it a very very painful commute for all involved)

BC: It’s *punch* not *punch* about *punch*winning*punch*!!!!!!

(Yo, she was dead ass!!!!!!)

Subway Riders: *Moooaaaan and groooaaaans*

Old lady jumps on train: “Oh lord, baby, you need to get your things and go.  If the cops are called you will be going to jail!”

BC: *snaps to attention, gathers herself, grabs her bag and jumps off the train.*

*the door chimed, shut, and the train took off*

JUST LIKE THAT! THE DOOR CHIMED, SHUT, AND TOOK OFF!

Was the Hispanic chick in shock? Were the riders in outrage? Did the police come?

No. No. Aaaaaaand No.

Life continued in motion.   It was business as usual, and aside from some flushed cheeks, the Hispanic chick adjusted her shirt gathered her packages and rode the train to her stop.

Business as usual…

The moral:  Shit, happens and if you’re lucky you may witness it. Hahahaha! No really it's simple isn't it? Sometimes you just DON’T know what people are going through.  Listen, there’s a fine line between talking shit and getting your tail handed to you on the 3 train during rush hour. Tread lightly loves…tread lightly.

And to the black chick out there…somewhere….

“Yo...You've got the juice now…man”