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”

SINGLE OR BUST!

You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. You are the guy who'll decide where to go.~ Dr. Seuss.

Ever notice that we spend all of our time complaining about being single, moaning about being single, looking for someone so we’re not single but never once do we stop to smell the “single roses”?  Hey, I know, I know, I knoooooow I’m at fault too.  I have my “woe is me" single cries like the rest of you too.  I mean there are certainly cons about being single, for example this week two days in a row I came home to lights on in my apartment and I promise you the second time it happened I was seconds away from calling the police,  as I was certain that someone had been in my house. No, I don’t know how they would have gotten in. Yes, I know I don’t live in a house, I live in an apartment….with double door locks. Yeeeees, I know it would take spider man or some super crackhead to get in, BUT when you live by yourself and you’re certain as I was that you DID not leave the lights on,  you either 1) have to admit you’re wrong (hello, have you met me? I am a Leo lol) or 2) assume someone has violated your space.  I chose the latter, don’t even question it, I AM NEVER WRONG that isn’t even an option! lol

Okay, so yeah maybe the invisible man isn’t your issue with being single, maybe it’s that you hate taking out the trash (like me), or cleaning, or your fridge is a holding space for takeout containers and old leftovers because there’s no one there to eat them, oooor perhaps you like to watch comedies with someone so you can discuss the jokes and laugh at them together. I mean there are a plethora of single woes they’re not that hard to come up with,  hell I can roll off dozens without even thinking.  BUT no one ever talks about how dope it is to be single like “I want to be single forever, says no one”.  Hahahaha.  Now don’t get me wrong forever is not my goal, BUT I won’t lie and say I’m not living on easy street in my singledom because I am. Life is in fact pretty cool.  So with that said, I thought I'd do a list, my Top 10 or so perks of being single and fabulous. Yes, I know you’re wondering where fabulous came from but damn it…you know I’m fabulous. Let’s go!

Nik’s Reasons Why Being Single Isn't So Bad:

1)      Your messy mess is your secret.

One of the best things about being single (and no kids) is that your junk is your junk; your mess is your mess.  Right now I may or may not (don’t want to scare any potential suitors lol) be living like I’m squatting in my own apartment eh? But guess what? You’ll never know because you’re never invited unless it’s clean. No one can see you’re living in squalor unless you allow them to see it.  Pow! Single sniiiitchesssssss!

2)       I can eat saltines for dinner and be just fine.

 We’ll leave this at that….but YOU know what I mean!

3)      Flirting with no repercussions.

Listen, some of us are natural flirts.  It’s in our DNA. There’s nothing you can really do about it, but when you’re in a relationship, that’s THEE first thing you need to curb.  Your girl or your dude is hardly interested in your playful banter and eye bats with other folks and that’s putting it lightly.  There’s a little flirting and alotta flirting…and neither are appreciated hahaha!

4)      Coming and going as you please.

I answer to NO ONE! Do you hear me? NO ONE! Okay maybe my father but that’s because he’s a light-weight stalker and forces me to report back. One day I will report him to the authorities and it will truly be no one! *Daddy, you’ve been warned* But seriously, come and go as you please so underrated!  And you can be doing nothing, but it’s my nothing to do and sometimes I chose to do it until 4am. BOOM!  ;-)

5)     You have the bed all to yourself.

You may think this is frivolous, but it’s just…not.  Everyone wants their space, and cuddling is good but not all the time.  It’s not beneath me to ask you to scoot over.  When you’re single it’s nothing but diagonal free for all sleeping all day and night!

6)      You're free to be human in ways women aren’t “supposed” to be.

Why do men think women don’t pass gas or burp?  Why is it funny or natural when they do it, but nasty when we do it?  Do you not think our stomach hurts too? Our gas needs passing too? Do you know how hard it is to hold in your gas, then make it to the bathroom to let it go AND wait so it doesn’t follow you out?  And let’s not talk about BM.  I mean, I sometimes have to take a dump too, I just do and to make me wait until I get home is effin inhumane. There, I said it and I mean it damn it!

7)      Not having to eat a heavy dinner at 10pm because someone thinks you share the same metabolism.

Men, we’re down to ride we really are.  There’s no one better to sit on the passenger side of your car screaming thug life like me! Trust me on this one…I will chug beers, take shots, watch football, throw up the deuces and recite all of your rap lyrics with you. BUT, I am not a man.  I like my dinners at 7pm, I like a steamed veggie with it, my metabolism is not yours…

8)      Speaking of metabolism, you can lose weight with your self-esteem intact.

Men, I can only speak for myself when I say this, but it really is sweet when you all decided to help us lose weight or encourage us to lose weight by joining in on the fight. However, it does not help when you then proceed to lose 40lbs by simply thinking about it and while  we struggle to lose 10 working out daily.  When you are single, there’s no one to constantly remind you they’re skinny and you’re not. It’s just that simple! LOL

9)      Celebrating Holidays vs. Not Celebrating Holidays

My sister got married on New Year’s Eve. When we were young we thought this was a dope idea, now that I’m older I question it.  Just a few years ago I said to her “Sooooo, yeah, like you’ll never spend NYE kicking it with your girls or friends”…that’s kind of….yeah.  LOL.   Not that she regrets it because she doesn’t as she’s married she was going to end up spending every NYE with him anyway. However, in my single head I’m like…sometimes you want to bring in the New Year with your man, and sometimes you want to paint the town red.  When you’re single, you choose.

10)   Being nice when you really want to be mean or cry.

So am I the only one that feels mean some days?  Like kick puppies, mean?  Like a kid looks at you on the subway and you scowl, mean?  When you’re single, you can come home and mope and wallow and cry and throw magazines and flop on the bed without having to tell anyone why, sometimes there’s no reason why. Damn it I’m mad, I’m mean, I’m sad and only I can understand that. When there are witnesses, they just think you’re crazy. When you’re single, no one will be the wiser that you’re at home sticking needles into dolls. Ya dig?

**Bonus: When flying to see family…you only have one ticket to buy, one person to worry about, one bag to pack. Jealous aren’t you?

Yo, we all want a partner in crime, an ace boon, a ride or die/do or die, a Clyde to your Bonnie, a companion, a hoot rider, a co-conspirator, an ace in the hole...you get the point…we want it.  But while we wait for Mr. or Mrs. All of the Above to drop from the divine heavens, we need to appreciate the life we have right here and right now.  And yes, it may not be filled with cuddle-filled nights, whispering dirty sweet nothings in loved ones ears (yes I know my dreams are slightly off, but they’re mine damn it!) BUT we do have our lightly salted dinners, as we cry in our wine while sitting on piles of laundry.  Hey, find your solace where you can….

*cues Cameo’s “Single Life”*

MYTHBUSTER, WOMEN’S EDITION

“Men are from Earth, women are from Earth. Deal with it.” George Carlin

Myths: an unproved or false collective belief that is used to justify a social institution

The other day in a very frank conversation with some of my girlfriends, we were discussing the differences between men and women and some of the “he said, she said” surrounding the two.  And hey men news flash, the same way you say you don’t understand how a women thinks…dude we don’t UNDERSTAND how you all think AT ALL!  It’s so sad that we all manage to have our wires crossed not some of the time, but a lot of the time. Actually, it’s so sad that it’s actually comical. Which is why I pride myself on being an open book, not one person I deal with can ever say they don’t know how I think, because please believe I’ve told you directly. Maybe not in the best manner, but told you nonetheless lol! Now, whether you choose to listen and take heed is a whole ‘nuther issue! But never mind the men are from Mars, women are from Venus issue; bigger than that, I realized there are many myths about each other that we hold true that just are not….well….right! So my dears, consider this post established to dispel some of the untruths. Yup let’s address some of the myths we hold about each other shall we?

Nika’s Mythbusting Mythbuster:

1)      Women are domesticated and born that way:

Ummmm….like…no? Yeah, that’s the best way I can say that...simply no. Some women are Suzy Homemakers naturally and some of them drank the Kool-Aid and just worked on it. However, others (such as me) just are not.  There’s really nothing we can do about it.  For “me, myself, and I” (let’s bring that hood phrase back shall we?), either you have the skill or you don’t.  I just don’t.  I’ve tried really.  It’s just not my forte like I’m not buying dust ruffles or frilly shit like that.  I don’t care about the new Swiffer out as I’m barely doing well by sweeping and mopping regularly.  If I was married, don’t even dare ask me to iron your clothes I couldn’t even get the wrinkle out my jeans this morning.  And washing? Pah..you don’t want me to do that, trust!  But, that doesn’t make me less of a woman (that’s what I keep telling myself), it just makes me highlight my other *ahem* skills.  Ya, I mean listen just because I might overflow the washing machine with soap, or don’t dust doesn’t mean I don’t have skills!!! I have skills buddy! What skills you ask? Ummm, I can cook a mean pork chop, doesn’t that count for anything? No? hmmph *writes on wife resume in pencil* And if that doesn’t work I know how to call, hire, and pay for a housekeeper.  It shouldn’t matter that I am NOT “domesticated” just know I know how to domesticate things ! Boo Yaa!!!

2)      Women can’t hold their liquor and only like "girlie" drinks:

Man listen…have y’all seen me drink? I don’t want to toot my own horn, but umm yeah,  I’m pretty decent.  I mean hell I AM from Cleveland and not for nothing, but that isht is like a pastime there. Word! And please don’t ask when I started drinking, I don’t disclose numbers hehehe! Listen, we don’t have much in Cleveland, but bars are like historical landmarks, no lie! I mean, ladies,  do you guzzle your drink, rip off your shirt and chest bump? Umm...no (though I’m sure it would make a few fellas quite happy lol) There IS an art to it!  I, myself…personally (hehe) classify it as a social calling of sorts affectionately named “Lady who drinks” much like a ” Lady who lunches”…hell… “A lady who drinks at lunch”! Pow! Who’s in!?!?!  IF done properly it's totally the all to do. Trust me on this lol

But back to my womanly drinking skills, I remember once I was out with this dude I liked…like liked like not fake liked (dear Lord please don’t let him read this blog) and homeboy ordered a wait for it...sex on the beach. Siggggh, if you know me you know this didn’t go over well nor would I let him live it down, I mean I am A child of Beverly and sometimes I can be just be…yeah.  Any who, a long story short, he challenged me to a drinking contest when I wouldn’t let up on his p-drink (uh huh..the p stands for EXACTLY what you think it stands for hahaha) Him? Challenge me? Tah, pahlease! Lucky for him, in the end, we didn’t do the contest; my friend convinced me it wouldn’t be wise to drink the dude I liked under the table like the respectable lady I am.  So his ego stayed intact, but I’ll be honest with you…he might have won. I mean shit a battle with sex on the beaches? How much juice can one drink?  Pow Pow Pow *take that, take that*

3)      Cursing is unladylike:

Bitch to whom????? Hahahaha just kidding…not really… I mean why is it that men get to enjoy the perks of a good curse word? I actually believe if Bitch, Hoe, Fuck and Motherfucker aren’t apart of your daily lexicon then you’re not human and I can’t trust you. Fuck it; I can’t even have a conversation with you, motherfuckers! (hehehe sorry I just had to add that at the end)

4)      Women don’t like sports AND don’t like their man to watch sports:

Okay, here’s the deal with this, we don’t like hate sports per se  personally for me, myself, and I (It’s going to come back trust me on this), I loooove football but I will admit I didn’t always have an affinity for it. Simply put, I didn’t understand it, and no one would bother teaching me the sport.

(cue violins and breathy flashback voice)  

My father, like a typical man was often annoyed when you asked questions mid game and even one of my guy friends wouldn’t even let me ask questions until the commercials came on like who’s going to remember the plays until the commercial!!!  Alas, one day (cue happy TV music) I decided I wanted to learn and my brother in law, nephew, and bestie’s hubby took up the challenge to teach it to me. (cue pearly gate sound of Glooooory) Yaaaas!!  Now, what does that mean? They actually allowed me to ask questions DURING the game to learn as it happens.  Whaaaaaa? Yes, fellas DURING the game!  Annnnd low and behold, with a little understanding I now, know and love the sport.  This year I even bought the NFL package, true story!

So basically what I’m trying to say to you, women DO like sports and would even watch it with you AND stop nagging you IF you take the time to teach her.  Dude, it’s like investing in your future…make the investment today for the life you want tomorrow ;-)

5)      Women do not like to have sex as much as men:

Ha! This couldn’t be further from the truth most women loooooooove to have sex…yes…regularly.  Hell, most women I know are quite sexually frustrated.  Listen, let me be the spokesperson and say “They want sex, they want more of it, they want it often, and they want it now!!”  Hey man, Nik's for the people, champion of all causes ;-) Yo, here’s the reality women hit their sexual prime later than men and this is especially true for women in their 30’s. Yes I know there’s no “factual” evidence to back this up, so don’t bother looking it up, I’m telling you what I know, what I know that I know.  And I know this because well I’m *ahem* 36 and well….hell…I just know.  Consider yourself informed…

Hey I’m no expert here.  For years I believed I was an outlier…you know the one variable askew but the older I get and the more friends I acquire, the more people I find of like mind.  You know the saying, friends of feather flock together.  And because I’m not a selfish person and believe sharing is caring, I thought I’d drop a little bug in your ear. SEE WHAT I DID FOR YOU?!  I’VE GOT YOU BOOOOOOOOOOO!

Buuuuut juuuuuust in case your chick shades you at night, pulls the plug on your football games EVERY Sunday, is appalled at the mere mention of profanity, and gets woozy off of a strong daiquiri please read the statement below:

The views expressed herein are my own and may not reflect that of other women. They have not been reviewed, approved, or endorsed by YO CHICK. Proceed with caution, utilize at your own risk, hell…official rules apply?

I bid you adieu…good luck…and godspeed!

THROWBACK THURSDAY: S.O.S : A CHILD'S SILENT CRY

“'Cause I'm a karate man! And a karate man bruise on the inside! They don't show their weakness.” Billy Ray Valentine "Trading Places"

Y’all know how I feel about Throwback Thursdays, right?  I love, love, love them! So when I got up Thursday morning in my rush because you know I was late, I grabbed a bunch of photos to see which would trigger a memory for a blog post.  Sadly however,  it is not Thursday anymore but hey eff it….keep the party goin’ yes?!

So listen, I ran across this picture of me, my sister, and my grandmother “Mah” on this boat and the look on my face is priceless.  There was a random lady there too but who she was, I will never recall, but she is an important part of this story...hey man, y’all know me, bad with faces and names lol.   Any who, so this picture instantly reminded me of my relationship with my grandmother simply by looking at it!

Let me explain, my grandmother and I had the strangest relationship, we were extremely close but were like yin-yang.  I, often times, didn’t understand her because she could be very southern strict, and my parents were super lenient in most areas (aside from the spankings that were doled out diligently).  So, my personality naturally rebelled with what her personality naturally restricted.  So we spent a lot of moments at odds when I was a kid.  Oddly, what seemed rigid to me then, as I got older I realized was really more of a tradition, and I truly learned to appreciate it and love it. So back then our personalities often clashed especially since I spent every summer in Tennessee.

Speaking of the South, while I’m at it, let me give you a tutorial on the south in the 80’s.  My grandparents were old school southerners, so you know it was taught to us that a child should know his/her place i.e. speak when spoken to (please note:  this has never stopped me, but just know the world of trouble I stayed in as a kid) But also, there were rules of how you acted in public ESPECIALLY around “mixed” company.   You were to behave your best at all times, it was likened to inviting complete strangers in your home (who may or may not like you I might add) and not putting the good table cloth on the table, knowing fully well you eat in the living room on TV trays. Hahaha! Anyway, there was a certain behavior that’s supposed to be had in said “mixed” company. 

Okay, so back to “el photograph”, here  we are on a boat on a lake which is seemingly in Nobodygivesafuck, TN., it looks like everyone is having a marvelous time until you scan to my face and I have the hardest deadpan face a child can ever have. So now let me tell you why….my grandmother announced to the entire boat that I was scared and therefore needed to sit on her lap.  I was clearly, say 7/8 years old, and back then and quietly, I had no fear.  I wasn’t afraid of heights, I wasn’t afraid of death, I wasn’t afraid of homeless people and crazies (oh that’s a real fear)… I wasn’t afraid of anything. I mean, not really.  So she lied. Yup, as adults do, SHE was the one scared, and used me as a scapegoat.  THE MINERVA! Hahaha!

If you’ve been following this blog, by now you’ll know I was quite the outspoken one as a kid (see “Finding the Voice Within”), I mean once my grandmother lied on me and I DID announced it to the room”  I remember it like it was yesterday, “Mah, you’re telling a lie.” Wheeeeew chile, can I tell you how swift the hammer was dropped on me after that one?  I can still feel the chill in the air when my mom said “Excuse yourself to the bathroom.”  Oh lord….I thought I was safe…I couldn’t imagine what she could spank me with seeing as she had no belt…well that is until that Isotoner Slipper came off.  Oh Wee, ain’t nothing worse than rubber on skin…trust me on this one! She cornered me in that little bathroom and tore my tail up.  But peep my gangster though, when I came out, my mom said apologize and my response “I’m sorry for calling you a lie Mah, when you….lied” hahahaha

***Please believe my grandmother is somewhere in heaven mad I’m telling this story! Hahaha! But I find comfort in it because up until the day she died, I used to say to her “But remember that time you lied though..” it was like our own private joke (of sorts)…that lady knew she lied and let me get the summer stomped out of me for it. Smh! ***

Okay, I know what you’re thinking… “Uh Oh, Nika…” right?!   Listen, I was bad.  My friend has this saying that they used to say about her mom “too cute to beat”…ha! I was cute and I got beatings….it was more like “too cute, please beat” Bwaaahaha!   But on this particular day I didn’t say anything! Surprise, Surprise! (okay, I may have said a “ummm nu uh, Mah??” because it looks like she was doing one of her sly pinches)   The reality was, I was bad, but I wasn’t stupid!

Aye yo, a picture says a thousand words and this picture says if you so much as call me a liar in front of this “stranger of mixed company”, I will throw you overboard and forget you ever existed.   So in the end, I just sat my too big tail on her lap and stared in to the camera with a silent plea…

Help. Me.

Moral of this story: Sometimes you just have to take one for the team.

NIKA AND THE BRAIN: IT’S ALL SO COMPLICATED…

The Brain: Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering? Pinky: I think so Brain, but if Jimmy cracked corn, and no one cares, why does he keep doing it? 

**Pinky and the Brain

**Just a little tidbit you should know about me especially for my new blog readers, new to this journey.  One welcome, two don’t question anything written here, just rock with it.  This stuff is written accidentally on purpose (see what I did there? It makes sense trust me!) **

Hi-ya!!!!! We’re back and running semi normal…well, as normal as I’ll ever get which is probably abnormal…but that’s why we like we? No?! Any who, we’re back up and to just to give you an understanding of what took me so long to normalize-ish, I thought I’d give you all a rare glimpse into my convoluted brain and try to explain how I can be so easily derailed. 

Listen, it’s hard to deal with me…for even me.  Yes, you read that correctly. And yes I’m fully aware that it reads a little pompous but yet in still, I meant every word and every syllable of it.  It…is…hard… to…deal…with…me…for...even… me. HAHAHA! Now what does that mean?  I can be soooooo… well…. sooooo ….umm …soooooo ….much.  Yes, that’s it, much.  Sometimes it’s hard to keep up.  I’m all over the place. One day I’m so emotional and I’m fighting back tears.  The next day I’m so happy that nothing can compare….

I’m single, and content.

I’m single, and unhappy. 

I’m single, and don’t want kids.

I’m single and do want kids.

I make my fun wherever I am.

I never have fun ever no more. 

Every day is joy.

Every day is hell. 

I have THEE best friends in the world. 

No one is ever there for me.

I’m so pissed.

No I’m not.

Yes, I am.

I hate you.

I love you.

I hate you/love you?

Do you see where I’m going with this??? Who is this chick??? I thought I left this level of mental instability in my 20’s? (Okaaaaaaay, early 30’s…BUT SEEE THERE, I can’t even pin point the decade correctly!?)  Can you imagine trying to function juggling all of that….at the same damn time? *Sorry yes, I know it’s over used but it was too hard not to say it*

Seriously! Is this just me? There are days where I literally, okay not literally….okay yes literally…want to detach my head from my body and rinse it out and either throw it away or replace it<<not in a suicidal way just in case you’re one step away from holding an intervention, I’m good trust!

But, I AM all over the place. I don’t know what aids this either….like what could be the catalyst?  Hormones? It can’t be just a chick thing.  Is it too much free time to let my mind wander?  Have I like, spent too much time in my head? I mean you do know there’s such thing…too much time with *ahem* yourself. Are there case studies on this? Like I’ve read about the quarter-life crisis, and you have the mid-life crisis, you also have the pre-menopausal thingy (and no smart asses that IS NOT me!) but what’s the 36 thing called?  Cry baby? Crazy?  30-something and half past crazy? Hahaha Come oooonnnnn I need to know!

And oh dear Lord, please don’t get me started on the emotional aspect.  Let me tell you something that I’ve never told anyone especially those who deal with me on a regular.  You know the ones that walk away from our encounters shaking their head like “this chick, I’ll never understand her”.  *types real slow and deliberate* I don’t understand me either.  K? 

Actually, it’s quite exhausting being a person this …this….well, this THIS.  It’s like a ride. When you get on you look at your friend and you’re like “Ooooh! This is going to be sooooo fun” and by the first curve you playfully yell out a shout of glee maybe, but by the first drop you’re crying for your savior and by that second curve you screaming for dear life! And by the time the ride is done you will look back and curse its very existence, and probably proclaim never again. And low and behold, next summer? You will find yourself standing in line yet again.  “The ride” was so bad, that it was good (at least that’s what you tell yourself a year later)

Well people, that’s me in a nutshell!

I don’t know why you folks keep fooling with me.  I’m sporadic at best and even that is a light way to put it.  I’m so unstable that I’m stable. I’m inconsistently consistent and randomly predictable.  Yup, you got it….a real live enigma (and clearly really, really dramatic).  That would be me, I would be she, and she would be we.

So what’s the draw? Why befriend me (or for your purpose, be-read me (hehe I’m clearly corny too)), it’s simple.  I’m fun.

Hahahaha I mean coooome on! Someone this crazy has to be fun right!!!!!! And yeah, I know you’re like “I know fun” but trust me when I say, not my kind of fun. (at least in my head you don’t)  Hey, I’m the girl that in college thought it would be fun to drink while we packed for a road trip, and convinced everyone to agree it would be fun too.   All for me to drink and pass out on the way there and only to check her bag to only have one shoe, a top no bottoms, and partial PJ’s. Hahahaha okay that doesn’t sound that fun, but damn it if it wasn’t hilarious then and makes a fun story now! So BOOM!

Okay, okay, I got off topic (see that damn brain) This post isn’t to convince you of my funness (yes I made that up and you’ll love it) or to read my blog, if you’re reading this, I’ve already tricked you! POW! And shit, I’m fun, the end; it’s not to be questioned.

BUT this post IS so y’all know what I’m working with, what you’ve gotten yourself into and hell, to figure out if I’m the only one crazy out here?  (Crazy needs love too) So if this is you (don’t yall all run to the door at once), let’s start a discussion of sorts of what we should do about it, call ourselves, diagnosis ourselves, and well…while we’re at it…ummm…medicate ourselves …in the liquid form….yes? It could be kind of like a club of sorts. I mean I’m one of a kind, this I know, but there’s comfort in numbers….truly.

Soooo anyone, anyone? Olly Olly Oxen Free???  Don’t be afraid? Step up and state your set so we can have healing (or toasting’s) together. 

Oh this brain….convoluted shit huh? Siigggghhhh it’s just all so….complicated.  

You’re welcome…

THROWBACK THURSDAY: 1 WEEK….

“The mind once enlightened cannot again become dark.” Thomas Paine

This week, I’m prepping for my god-daughter’s college tour.  We’re going to 8 schools in 5 different states in 5/6 days, truly exciting! There’s nothing better than encouraging our youth to pursue their dreams, but more importantly choosing the right college means everything! College is supposed to be the best years of your life, and if you’re miserable…fuggetaboutit! So with that said, I think it’s important that she sees the schools that she’s interested in.  But enough about that, I will be blogging via Facebook about that trip, so tune in there.   

Planning this tour has really made me think back to when I was visiting schools my junior/senior year, and going to college for my freshman year.  And some 15 some-odd years later (don’t do the math on that); it’s amazing how I can still remember prepping for school like it was yesterday!  My parents were divorced and at this time hated each other, so the way we had to plan things out were structured...umm uniquely (that’s code for “making sure they were never in the same room together.”)  My mother lived in Tennessee, so the plan was I would go down to Tennessee  earlier than school started, and she would prep me and take me down on the “first leg” (Saturday-Wednesday). My sister would then, ride down with my father and they would catch the “second leg” (Wednesday-Saturday) of getting me started.  This schedule is important to note and a crucial part of the story.  It’s important to also not that my sister was not with me during the pre-college time spent with my mother, she was still in Cleveland visiting my father.  If my sister would have been there, there would be no story to tell lol.  This is a story I like to call “The day I learned my mother was a hype man.”

So, here I am in Fayetteville, TN, bonding with my mother sort of, we were besties so there’s no real bonding necessary, it was more like shooting the shit, when I mention that I wanted to go to school with kind of a different look.  I was known for changing my hair in a heartbeat, and my hair at the time was short, so I couldn’t cut it for a different look and I thought that maybe I should dye it to switch things up.  Yup, dye it!  Now, this was one week before freshman orientation. One week before the Operation: Take Nik to Tallahassee.  One week before I was living on my own and making new friends in a new environment.  One week before I had to navigate a new city, find a new hairdresser, and start a new life.  JUST ONE WEEK. 

Now, when I suggested my “make over” to my mother, in true Big Bev fashion, she said “I think that’s a great idea! Yes! I think you should do it!” Siggghhh, if I knew then, what I know now, I would have backed away immediately.  NOW, I realize I can say to my mother, “Mommy, I want to be a janitor. I want to own my own janitorial company, and spend my life scrubbing floors.” (Not that there’s anything wrong with this, it isn’t, however to the girl with many school loans and two degrees…eehhh? Probably not the best idea) My mother would most likely respond “I think that’s a great idea! Yes! I think you should do it!” The EXACT same answer!  What I’m trying to say here is that what I didn’t realize then is my mother is a hype man!  She will NEVER tell you anything is a bad idea if you believe in it.  She will ALWAYS support you.  She firmly believes go out, live, love, and make mistakes.  She flies by the seat of her pants and goes with the wind.  There’s no filter, there’s no halt button, there’s no, no.  Sounds great right? Not so fast….

What comes next is that fork in the road I talked about last TBT (throwback Thursday), but this time where I went left, I’m certain I should have gone right.  And when I say certain, I mean certain as the day turns night.  Right after I said to my mom I wanted to dye my hair, she responded “I can do it for you. I used to dye hair aaaaall the time in college”.  **Pause for a moment**  

There were many clues that this was not going to end up…ummm...optimal, yes that’s a good word, optimal:   

This was clue numero uno!   In school boo?? Uhhh that was like 20 years prior if not longer, did you really flashback to ummmm…college?   But again, the hype man got me well…hyped.  So off we went to the mall Wal-Mart and we bought a highlight and frost kit, yup you read that right…FROST.  So that day, we prepped, and that night we executed the plan. 

Clue 2, my mom was reading the directions…pause here.  The directions boo? I thought you did this all the time???

 Clue 3, my mom decided too much dye was left over, and it was wasteful, she flipped the cap up and smeared a bunch on the back. 

Clue 4, at the mark where they, the professionals who made the product explicitly said take the color out, my mother, the professional in her head, said “it should stay on longer”.   Proclaimed we were being wasteful -_-

***Oh my loves, what happened next was the biggest tragedy of 1994…of the decade…of perhaps my young life.  Yes, bigger than that time I fell down the stairs on the black side of school.  Yes, bigger than that time I threw up on that girl on the Mohican Camp bus in elementary school.   This was nothing shy of pure catastrophe.  When we rinsed thine hair in the sink, I audibly heard my mother gasp. ***

This is the last and final clue that things were going to be not just bad, but DAMN BAD! I looked in the mirror, and there was neither a frost nor highlight in sight. My hair in fact was completely….wait for it… orange.  Yup, orange not burgundy, not brown, not light brown, not blond highlights….orange homie, orange.  ALL OF IT! 

ONE WEEK BEFORE MY NEW LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was so bad, it was funny.  I promise we laugh for hours.  We laughed until I cried, and I laugh-cried until real tears came and after the real tears, the sobs came, and then the meltdown.  Oh, and was it an epic meltdown.  Because remember I was in Fayetteville, Tn., so umm yeah…who was gonna to fix this boooooo??????  My mom claimed it could be fixed.   So, the next day we made an emergency appointment at a salon in Huntsville, Alabama, but all they could do was drop a dark rinse on it.  It was, in fact…unfixable.

Yup, one week….before…my…new…life.  

In one week it all changed.

But here’s the funny thing, when the week finally came and I went to school, it didn’t even matter.  Only two people knew me before college and once they got over the shock, they were fine.  Apparently, if you’ve never known what normal was, you’ll assume normal is.  (Don’t question that, it sounded good when I was typing it. It makes sense. Trust me)

Listen, lesson’s come in various avenues.  Some lessons can be outright and some more concealed.  But eventually, a lesson WILL reveal itself.  And more importantly, if you do not learn your lesson, it will repeat itself until you figure it out.  There’s no avoiding a lesson that is destined or pre-destined to be yours. 

My lesson that day was multi layered,  there were soooo many:  Follow your gut… don’t be afraid to ask questions… if it doesn’t seem right, it isn’t…your mother doesn’t have a clue of what she’s doing (okay maybe that wasn’t a lesson per se, but certainly a fact). 

That day I ignored the lessons.  One week later, I was an orange-head.  Lesson learned.

THE VANISHING…

“Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.”  Carl Sagan

Dear Friends, Family, Countrymen, and City folk,

Please lend me your ear. I know I  complain speak a lot about New York City and express a lot of concerns about my residence here, please don't think this is another one of "those" times.  And actually, I just want you to know that it’s not because I hate it *ahem* per se because I do love it tremendously but mostly in a “it hurts so good” kind of way (Dooooon’t act like you don’t know what I mean.  Y’all know you’ve had some hurt so good moments!).  And mostly, I speak about this city the way I do because it’s quite complex.  My love for it, my hate for it, my obsession, or even my repulsion is layered with 10 or so years of circumstances.  And I also realize that sometimes you read my stories and think they are fabricated, they are not.  These stories are real. EVERY DAY.  ALL THEE TIME.  I’m amazed at how many crazy, impossible, outlandish people, things, events, I encounter on a daily basis.  And trust me I’m a pro at handling them all….well most.  You’ve seen my record (you better ask somebody! Lol) 

But this is why I come to you, in an open arm plea.  Something tragic of immense proportions have happened.  I have lost one of my prized possessions.  My mojo.  Yes, as of late, my mojo has been off. Uh huh, that is correct I have in fact, lost my mojo.  Unbelievable right?  I was caught off guard.  I felt violated, exposed even.  I mean listen I never even knew it was gone until the other day I was walking in Harlem and texting (at the same damn time…sorry I just had to..anywho) and I stepped on a chicken wing.  A CHICKEN WING!!!! GASP! YES A BON AFIDE CHICKEN BONE!!  Now to the average Joe this is no cause for alarm.  But, for me…a seasoned duck and dodger, this is a major catastrophe! I can text, talk, walk and dodge rats, dog crap, crazies, buses, and ESPECIALLY chicken bones.  Clearly my New York chi is off balanced…ummm, out of whack if you will.  I’m concerned. You cannot allow your guard to be down for not one minute in this city.   THIS. IS. HOW. YOU. GET. GOT! Yes, people, get got!

Listen, when you move to this city you’re gifted with many things. But the most important gift you’ll ever receive is your ability to foresee all trouble, without it you’re nothing but a victim.  The elements will snuff you out so quick, you won't even see it coming.  Shoot, in your first apartment they hand over the keys, a set of glue traps, and the grand gift of clairvoyance.  Believe in it, trust it, and most of all respect it because damn it…YOU NEED IT.

So with that said, my light is dimming. And I don’t know why.  I suspect it’s because I’m ready to move on from said city.  Which is moooost likely true but damn it I can’t lie down like a maimed animal and die.  I must fight to the very end.   I mean today, I sat next to a man who literally was typing a deck about anarchy. I never once flinched. I mean it is 9/11!!!  Is it that I’m becoming too desensitized that I’m losing my 6^th sense?  My ability to spot crazy a mile away was my superpower-my gift.  You don’t get many gifts as powerful as that.  Without it, I’m…..nothing.  Well, I mean I am something…according to my mama I AM SOMEBODY…but you get the point. I need that part of me or I’m NYC mincemeat.

I think what I’m saying to you, family, is that there’s a part of me missing.  It’s like an armadillo without its shell.  I mean right now I’m the lone gazelle lost from the pack just waiting to get taken out by the vicious lion.  I mean what did that gazelle ever do to anyone but graze grass?

It’s crazy really.  I feel like I’m on a roller coaster ride, One day I’m snapping off this poor Indian man’s head for stopping on a crowded sidewalk, denying the wheel chaired homeless woman coffee (I did eventually get her coffee just in case you’re attempting to judge me…I rebuke you!), and strong-arming my cab driver for a cheaper fare and the next minute I’m strolling down the street stepping on chicken carcasses.  And yes, I know the aforementioned behavior isn’t optimal, nor is it indicative of my “original” personality but please believe me, it is certainly necessary.  They say only the strong survives, and my dear people, your girl is about to get slayed.  So, if you’ve seen my mojo, will you please return to sender? Thanks a bunch dolls! *smooches*

Sincerely,

Lost in Translation

**(don’t ask me what this means I’ve always wanted to sign out with it…and since it’s my blog I can do whatever I please. BOOM SNITCHES!)**

“Yet, as only New Yorkers know, if you can get through the twilight, you'll live through the night.” Dorothy Parker