Bigfoot Stuff

“A” has been discreetly watching certain parts of my anatomy.

I’d normally be pleased to know that the dude of my dreams has kept such a close eye on his chick, but the moment of revelation wasn’t all that I had hoped for.

When we first got together, I was thrilled that we matched so well physically. He’s just a little taller than me, so holding hands and other stuff is pretty comfortable.

Since we’re close in size, our body parts are also individually close in size. I didn’t give this much though but apparantly “A” did. (possibly inspired by the Nappy incident)

We were doing our Saturday relaxation thing, we were on the couch, and my feet were on his lap.

“You have grown man sized feet.”

Never have six words shocked me more. (I have…. excuse me? Grow man sized feet? Wha…?)

To illustrate his point “A” snatched off his slippers, leaned back and started this foot to foot size comparison.

Just so you know, it’s not possible to decrease one’s foot size at a moment’s notice. (people talk about the power of prayer – yada-yada)

I also lost the foot fight.

Grrrr.

Blog of The Week Stuff

Steph is, well… Steph. You’ll see…

GO READ THIS BLOG! http://muchadoaboutsumthin.blogspot.com/

Language Stuff

Ad infinitum. Que pasa. Soupe du jour.

These phrases originated as Latin, Spanish and French. They are part of the average Joe’s normal everyday vocabulary. Yanno – the average Joe speaking English. The language that “everyone” here should speak according to some.

hint: We don’t actually speak English here in the USA – we speak a patois – a bastardized version of the language of the country we fought and defeated in the Revolutionary War.

Los Angeles. (“the angels” in Spanish)
New Mexico. (named after… you know that really large country south of us – we just don’t want actual Mexicans living there )
Des Moines. (“monks” in French)

Those ‘English only’ proponants need to consider the renaming of many quite large and highly populated metro areas since they wish to abolish the use of other languages in “America” (the misnomer they call the US when sounding extra patriotic [cue background music] although North America includes other countries that we don’t count when normally saying ‘America’ because we’re overly U.S.-centric and basically ignorant as a people).

If the “English only” proponants are serious then there’s a lot of work ahead of them. We need to correct our spelling in dictionaries and encyclopedias. Colour, for example is the English way to spell the word we spell as color. Better get rid of the foreign phrases we use everyday and we’d better rename all the states and capitals of non-British origin. California can become Cornwall. Arizona can become Ascot.

Makes as much sense to me as an “English only” does to be served in a cheesesteak restaurant in Philadelphia.

Lime Green Gear Stuff

The cutie pie that I’m dating can rest assured that I truly care about him. The reason that he can feel totally confident in my genuine feeling is that I spent the entire morning with him in the Atlanta area one Saturday despite his outfit.

You may wonder, “what in the world could the man have worn to make Jali say all this on the internet.” Well I’ll share: He wore a lime green “Nappy” track suit… with emerald green and black racing stripes… with the name “Nappy” in bold white letters on the back. (I made a serious effort to research the “Nappy” apparel company, but was unable to find an active link.

I really wanted to share the look with you guys so that you’d really understand how much I care for this man. Remember, it was lime green. With emerald green and black racing stripes. Nappy.) Based on the one example of the design of the “Nappy” people that I’ve seen, I assume that the company is out of business. They really need to be.

The plan in the morning was to run out briefly to make it to an early morning doctor’s appointment. “A” didn’t really care what the doctor thought about his outfit. “A” should have cared.

When he got in the car, I sort of shielded my eyes from the glare of the lime green. He gave me that look and I didn’t say a word. Not one word until we were on the road.

Now let me explain, “A” is a beautiful man. Just beautiful… but remember the saying, ‘beauty is as beauty does’? Well “A” decided to do the Nappy lime green track suit that morning.

I offered to play a road game to make things fun. “Let’s name all the green things we see while we’re traveling.” My suggestion wasn’t even given a response.

“Oooh… there’s your car!” Yup, a guy was driving a shiny lime green convertable so I sped up a bit to get a good look. “A” refused to acknowledge the car at all.

“Green trees, green grass, green trash can…” I was on a roll playing my game. “A” wasn’t amused, but I find my entertainment where I can.

We pulled into the parking garage of the medical complex, and I decided to wait outside and read for a while. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll see you as soon as you come out of the building.” “A” didn’t get the joke.

After the appointment the original plan was to fly back home, change into more groovy gear and find some fun or trouble to get into. My stomach wasn’t having it.

I went into whiney mode. “I’m hungry, I’m hot… I have a headache.” I accompanied this much repeated refrain with my patented ‘pitiful Jali’ look. After about my 12th or 13th sigh and his obvious annoyance at my whining, “A” finally relented and agreed to feed me.

Did we stop at the closest fast food spot where we could whizz through the drive-thru?
Ha-Ha.

I sped onto the highway with a goal in mind: The Famouse Pancake House in Stone Mountain.
The restaurant was crowded (as always). TFPH is my favorite breakfast spot in the Metro area and I was excited to share the experience with the dude of my dreams.

The dude of my dreams still wore the lime green Nappy suit with emerald and black racing stripes. He remembered his outfit as we walked past the people sitting outside the restaurant. (see, this is why I need a camera phone – the look on his face when the realization set in was amazing).

I grabbed his hand to show solidarity, but turned away so that he wouldn’t see me giggling.
The hostess sat us near the middle of the room. “A” was cool – well I suppose as cool as one can be while wearing a lime green Nappy track suit with emerald and black racing stripes and with every eye in the restaurant watching his every move.

We ordered, the food was delicious, the conversation great and the time had come to make our grand exit.

“When I get home, I’m going to put this suit in a bag and pee on it”. (Yeah, yeah, but you still have it on now.)

I proudly held his hand again as we weaved through the crowded room of staring people. “He’s MY man!” (yeah, that was a paraphrased quote by “Squeek” from The Color Purple).

As we drove home I notice the engine temp gauge was slowly edging towards dangerous. “A” wisely suggested that we stop at the auto parts store for fluids. (Ooh goodie, another adventure.)

I make the most of each and every shopping opportunity and was cruising the aisles for things I might need, and I suppose that “A” got tired of waiting in the hot car. I looked up and he was standing next to me, sweating like crazy in his lime green track suit with emerald and black racing stripes.

I put down the thing-a-ma-bob that I had been examining and followed “A” to the register. The guy that helped us happened to mention that it was his B-day and that he couldn’t wait until he got off.

“Um sir.. may I ask you a serious question?”
“Sure”, he was a polite young man.
“If someone gave you a lime green Nappy track suit with emerald and black racing stripes as a gift for your birthday, would you wear it?”

Post script – “A” is finally speaking to me again. Would I do it all over knowing what I know now? Hells yeah! That was the best laugh I’d had for days and the other customers and clerks enjoyed it too.
If anyone can find a photo of a “Nappy” track suit, please send me a link!!

Sports Stuff (heartbreak and happiness)

My immaturity level has reached a new high (or low) due to professional sports. Basketball is the culprit and I’m whining.

I spent a good part of my day yesterday sulking. – I was pissed that I lost sleep staying up past my worknight bedtime to watch that Duane Wade dude (hmmmph) mess up my Mavs in the last seconds (more than freakin’ once – I’m including OT) of the game. I’m a bad winner (as I’ve discussed) but I’m a horrible loser. I really get angry. Really.

When the Mavericks were leading the series 2-0 I talked much smack here at work – all the delivery guys, the messengers, our caterers, the staff here, our vendors – even our clients – everybody within hearing range got to hear me talk about the sweep. Yeah… the sweep.

Many of those people stopped in yesterday to laugh at me. (how rude!) I tried my best to maintain a professional demeanor while listening to amateur (boring!) recaps of the final plays in regulation and the overtime moves Miami made. I saw the game. I remember what happened and didn’t need the Jr. Aspiring Sportscaster League to recap anything, but recap they did. All. Day. Long.

My daughter, the comedienne Brooke, sends me text messages of the score – as though she feels as though I’m unable to comprehend what I actually saw, the ESPN recaps, the internet ad infinitum articles, or the sports pages in the local newspapers. (advice – don’t bet with your children – if they win they will harrass you to death)

Let’s see what Avery and the boys do tonight.

My only consolation right now (BRAGGING SECTION) is that I have tickets to the opening pre- season game, The Falcons vs The Patriots. The game is on August 11th and I’ll start my therapy soon to learn to cope with the nosebleeds I’m anticipating from sitting thousands of feet above sea level in the only seats my slim budget would allow right now. I don’t care – I’LL BE AT THE OPENING GAME!!!!!

I bought the tickets online a couple of weeks ago for $24 each – c’mon, not bad at all. Of course there’s a slight service charge, but I’m going to a pro game with a beautiful man for under 100 bucks. Maybe I need to stop sulking.

Random Stuff

Buzzwords. The rampant use is annoying as hell.

Have you ever listen to a speaker drone on for 20 minutes and wondered, “what the hell is he talking about?” Some folks are unable to speak without using certain popular phrases or words. Some people feel that the insertion of these words make the speaker seem more informed.

The words in parenthesis are what I think when I hear these overused lines.

Synergy. (I can’t really express what I need to say…hmmmm “synergy” sounds good. I’ll say it.)
Leverage. (When does this concept fit into a staff meeting?)
Issues. (my serious pet peeve – almost everything can be termed an issue – just sounds stupid to me)
Thinking outside the box. (C’mon – we’re operating inside the corporate box – it’s just something that people say but don’t really mean.)
X Factor. (Duh)
Win-Win. (Oh, please…)

Please stop the madness! Let’s have meetings and conversations without using ANY OF THESE WORDS OR PHRASES. Please.

Science Stuff

I listen to 107.9, The A Team radio show in Atlanta every morning during my drive to work. This morning the audience poll had to do with childhood science experiments and callers shared their stories. Todays topic was a direct result of the video experiment using diet soda and menthos candy. http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=4077724936497803978.

One guy called to say that during a particularly boring summer day, despite the many warnings from his mom, he decided to mix bleach and ammonia in a jar, covered it for a while, then removed the top. He said he lost the sense of taste for a couple of months and his eyes were streaked with red. I’ll bet his butt was streaked with red too once his mother found out.

Another caller used ketchup on pennies to clean them – she said that it takes 2 minutes to get the job done. (I just might try this myself today if I can fit it into my busy and oh so interesting schedule – no smart remarks please). I wanted to hear more stories and sat in the car for a few minutes after I parked, but my time was short so up to my floor I rode still thinking about the show.

Did any of you watch “Mr. Wizard” or “Bill Nye, The Science Guy” on TV?

My memory isn’t the best so I did a little research (code for googled “Mr. Wizard’) and found a page where a few of the experiments are listed:

Lykopodium powder was sprinkled on water to break the surface tension and a kid reach his hand into the tank. Amazingly, the kid pulled his hand out and it was completely dry.

Mr. Wizard had a kid press his arms against a doorway for about 30 seconds and then after the kid relaxed, his arms flew right back up.

A girl learned that her hands could not tell the difference between hot and cold after being exposed to the opposite temperature.

Tie a piece of wet string to a faucet and make the water flow sideways by moving the string.

I did further research (googled Bill Nye) and his website http://www.billnye.com/ is pretty interesting.

A little taste of my childhood curiosity has come back. Experiments were fun to me at one time and I’ll do the ketchup-penny test today to see how it feels.

Anybody want to play? Do an easy experiment and let me know the result. I double dog dare you.

Move Stuff

Just learned that the apartment I’ve been waiting for is available and I will be able to move on Saturday. Yup, this Saturday! I’m sure that you all know how lazy I am – so you’ll understand my reluctant joy.

The joy: I want to move. I need to move. The police have been driving through my complex with an alarming regularity lately, and it’s not at all comfortable for me (no I’m not a criminal on the run – I just don’t like it). The new place will cost a lot less than my current spot and offers much more. There’s an added bonus that I’ll discuss another day since it deserves it’s own post.

The reluctant part: The lazy part of me doesn’t feel like packing up crap, hauling same crap to truck, unloading crap at new spot and unpacking and putting away crap. I almost want to abandon what I have and just have new crap delivered. (a fantasy since I can’t afford the crap I already have and it’ll be a long time before my budget allows for new)

Now some of you may not realize just how hot it can get in Georgia. Asking friends to help is asking a lot. A whole lot. Of course the sweetness in my life will help, but he’s just one man, so that still leaves half of the work to me.

(“scheme-scheme-plot – plot” – ever since Luda used the line, I’ve been itching to copy him)

How can I make the offer of helping me to move in the relentless Georgia sun sound like fun so that I only need to move the girlie stuff and the big strong men I know can do their big strong thing?

One word. Brew.

Something about the offer of an icy cold foamy beverage makes the average guy I know willing to do almost anything if that beverage is the prize. My buddies can afford (fill in expensive beverage name – I’m not that hip – what the hell is Grey Goose?) if they’re in the mood, but the offer of free beer is irresistable for some reason. Possible conditioning from childhood? Beer – good. Beer – good. Beer – good.

Whatever works.

I’ll be back with an update.

Link Stuff

Since I can’t get my links to show up on my page, I’ve decided to do this the Jali way. I’m not renting my blog. (I really don’t understand the concept)

Blog of the Week: http://steveskalish.blogspot.com/ – title: My Big Fat F’kin Head. The name of the blog is what made me look the first time. His writing is what made me keep coming back.

C’mon, do yourself a big favor and check out Smokin’ Steve. Take some time and read through the archives. For a guy from Pennsylvania (I do not love that state) he’s pretty cool. N0 – he’s very cool.

Life Stuff

An old saying has always irked me: “The early bird gets the worm.”

I do understand the point, but I’ve always wondered, what about the poor early worm? If the worm had chilled another hour or two, he may not have been the high protein breakfast treat for Mr. Robin Redbreast. He might even be still hanging out today, worming (heh-heh-heh) his way through the garden.

Because it’s an old saying, I think I was expected to accept the wisdom without question, but since little Jali was just as stubborn as the adult (in her own special way) Jali, I questioned it.

Old = Wise?

Nope! Well… not necessarily.

What is wisdom to my eye may have no bearing on your reality. I can learn from anyone and anyone can learn from me.

There are certain reflexive truths that are undisputable to most people – Fire is hot. Kicking a brick will hurt a toe. Ex husband #1 is a goofball. We all live and learn to find truths such as these. My mom may have said, “No Jali..hot!” or “Jali, don’t kick that!” or “He’s not the one, you idiot!”, but until I burnt my finger, stubbed my toe, and married “the one who shall not be named since evil minions may be listening and darkness may return to the earth”, I didn’t quite grasp the concepts my mom was trying to share.

It’s a positive thing to try to share the painful life lessons with our next generation so that they can avoid the scars and the pain. It’s also a positive thing when they ignore our warnings and learn these lessons for themselves.

I’m annoyed by those who feel it part of their duty to “enlighten me”. (especially those armed with the magical elixer of knowledge – malt liquor) Because someone was born 10 or 15 years before the glorious day of my birth doesn’t automatically make them any better than me in coping with my issues. Some of y’all really need to think about this – some of you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I’m annoyed at my contemporaries who dismiss the music, the dress, the opinions, and the dreams of our younger generation.

Remember the 70’s? The 80’s? Who the hell are we to criticize the way folks dress today? C’mon, I wore Afro Puffs, hot pants, neon tights, Mahogany- the lipstick, platform sparkly shoes that I could barely walk in, bubble shirt and a rawhide headband (and this is just one outfit) to hang out with my friends. I think to my parents and their friends I resembled a strange visitor to this planet.

Our music wasn’t as innocent as we claim either. Grace Jones single was all over the radio:”Pull up to my bumper baybay…with your long black limousine.” Were you allowed to play “Pillow Talk” by Sylvia at home? That record taught me how to fake it. How about the Funkadelic lyric, “You be my dog, I’ll be your tree and you can pee on me.”

I’m also annoyed at some youth who feel that I have nothing valid to say since I’m no longer hip – although I’m not conceding that point, I’m just sharing certain young peoples’ attitudes regarding my personal hipness quotient.

What I write here isn’t meant to be taken as the wisdom of the ages. These are my opinions (while always correct of course, look who’s talking) I hope to just make you think about these things. All this talking has to do with someone else’s site (sorry no link), where the question was raised, what is the point of a blog?

I’m not going to answer the question. Do I ever really answer the question? You two regular readers (sad stat since I have a big extended family who just happen to ignore me online) know that I’m not gonna answer the question.

But then, didn’t I just answer it?