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