Apology and Explanation Stuff

Hi everyone -

This is my apology post. (how many times have I done this???)

Okay-  I rejoined BlackPlanet (the world is yours) and I’ve been on that site every single day this week.  http://www.blackplanet.com/jalicook/

Every.

Single.

Day.

I’ve been on their rating system. See guys, you post a photo of yourself and submit it for rating by any member of the community. You can also rate any member’s photo they’ve submitted.

The first day, I was happy. My ratings were 9s and10s and my little ego turned into a big monster. I felt like I was one of the cool kids again (if anyone claims that I wasn’t one of the cool kids in high school – well – you’re a damn liar – I was! I really was!) (for a chick in a Catholic School uniform and afro puffs). The message on my page from BlackPlanet didn’t help: you’re hotter than 90% of the women on Blackplanet. Oooh. Mamma likes.

The second day, my ratings began to slide. What! I checked the faces of the ones who were rating me. How could this be? An 8 – naw man. I don’t want to be an 8. Look at my ratings from yesterday – I was a solid 9 yesterday… I tried to penetrate the minds of those voting that day.  I sent my “vote high” vibrations all over the website hoping to make a change.

The third day the slide developed into a freefall to the bottom of the ratings. Somebody gave me a 2. Yes – a 2! Was this ratings karma? Did I make a mistake in scoring someone else. Oh no – now my average is gonna suck!

The fourth day was a recovery day of sorts, but I didn’t see any new 9s or 10s. I was getting 7s and 8s. What! Maybe I can contact these people before they rate me and do something to influence their votes. Make them understand that my poor little ego needs to be fed. By strangers. On a webs….

This is when I had my “aha!” moment. What the hell do I care what rating some stranger in Minneapolis gives me. I love myself. Damn – how did I let myself get into the scoring system as though I didn’t know better. There are some truly interesting photos of people on the site and I’ve enjoyed rating them. (I don’t rate anyone less than a 7 unless they’re using a “stock” photo.)

I’ve found a few old online buddies and I’ve had quite a few good email conversations on the site. I just joined a group of people who wear their hair in locs – it’s been pretty good so far. Hopefully I can break my addiction – this is my first step : posting – and begin my recovery.

I’ll say it: My name is jali and I’m an egomaniac.

Tagged Stuff

The great writer from the west coast losangelista has tagged me and because I’m a lousy blogger, I haven’t done my homework yet. If you’re reading these words… YOU”RE IT!1. Post these rules before presenting your list.
2. List 6 actions or achievements you think every person should accomplish before turning 18.
3. There are no conditions on what can be included on the list.
4. At the end of your blog, choose 6 people to get tagged and list their names.
5. People who are tagged write their own blog entry with their 6 suggestions.
6. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged.

I’ll be back today to do this. Promise!

I guess we see that my promises…um -well… Sorry.

1. Understand our basic political process. 

2. Learn that everything in print is not the truth.

3. Handle a budget – and learn to save.

4. Apply for a job and work hard.

5. Learn the love of reading.

6. Love yourself more than anyone you date. 

Old Stuff (My Teenage Years – A Pictorial)

I Don’t Like It Stuff – A Rant in Many Parts

I’ve said some of these before and because of a recent incident I’m going to restate my feelings.

Why?

‘Cause this is MY house!

Cell phones – it’s rude to interrupt the peace of everyone around you EVERY TIME you get a phone call. Important business I understand. Calls from the baby sitter get automatic passes.  I’m talking about those random phone calls about NOTHING that you could take at any other time. It’s rude to take a nonsense call: 1. On an elevator – the space is too close and we don’t want to hear it! 2. On the bus or train – again, the space is too close and we don’t want to hear it. 3. On line to buy something – generally okay, but if using the phone renders you unable to complete your transaction, then the phone must go. 4. In my company. I refuse to play second fiddle to any and everyone who just happens to call you – I’m walking away.

While I’m on the topic of phones: I was always taught certain telephone manners: As a caller, greet whoever is answering the call, identify oneself, then ask to speak to whoever. I answer phones all day as a receptionist and many callers ask, “is _______ there?”. I want to answer their direct question with a yes or no… and then wait until they do better, but I will not be rude, so I generally respond, “I’ll try ______’s line for you and leave it at that.

I don’t like vague or mundane messages on my voicemail. “Gimme a call.” is wasting my time. I can see by the “missed call” message on my phone that I missed your call and I can figure out that you probably want to speak to me since you did call. If I go into the voicemail system and wait for the slow-ass system to finally give me my message and I press one to play message and I hear,” gimme a call” I am pissed. Give me a reason if you’re going to leave a message : “got two tickets…” “I’m coming over”, something. Shit.

Because we are assaulted by TMI on television doesn’t mean that I’m willing to discuss my personal stuff with everyone I meet, and I think it’s rude to ask certain questions in certain situations.  Someone I know very casually asked where I’d been and I explained that I had taken time off from skating due to surgery. That should have been the end of the conversation since I don’t really know this guy very well, but nooooo, he needed to know everything and asked what type of surgery I had. He actually winced when I told him about the uterectomy (NO – I don’t call it the hysteria word) and I grabbed his arm and made him listen to details he really didn’t want to hear.  Bet he wished he hadn’t gone all TMZ on me.

What’s up with the lack of thank you notes? As a kid, my mother would kill me if I didn’t send a brief note of thanks to anyone who took the time to send me a gift (whether I liked the gift or not) – she taught me to be a gracious person and I appreciate her lesson. Why isn’t this lesson taught anymore? I bought holiday gifts for a child of a friend and I’ve heard nothing at all. Understand, I don’t give a gift to get a thank you – I just wonder why the parents aren’t teaching their children any better. 

Here’s another – I received an invitation to a wedding shower, but I’m not invited to the wedding – what kind of bullshit – buy me something greed is this? This is not one of those office things – no – this is an acquantance.  I wish you well, but nothing from Neiman Marcus from me.

You all know my position on tipping. WTF is wrong with some people? Cheap asses!

That Burger King commercial with the guy with the tiny hands creeps me out! Good editing though. Speaking of commercials – I want to smack that lady who talks down to her husband when he’s stuck doing their income taxes. She says,”talk to the box.” I want to smack her with the box. What a bitch.

Speaking of commercial(iazation)… Flavor of Love  3.  Stupido! Stupido! Stupido!

One excellent thing – the man I’m sleeping with (she says proudly to the world) and I had the Valentine’s Day talk today. I asked him to be my valentine, he agreed. We’re done! No candy, no cards, no bullshit.  Ahhhhhhh.

Kid Stuff

When I was a child (this is not the time to tell me how childish I remain), my mom decided that she had untapped talent in a certain area.

Ever hear the old expression, “your mamma dresses you funny”? My mother seemed to tried her best to live up to those words. I won’t say it was deliberate, but I can imagine my parents laughing in their bedroom after dressing me in one of my mom’s famous homemade outfits.

Mom decided to buy a sewing machine and try her hand at making creations for my sister and me. She would buy fabrics and patterns, and armed with much more determination than skill she would whip out outfits that she’d insist we wear.

As Catholic school students, we were already known as the nerd chicks on the block since we wore UGLY plaid uniforms to school every day. Now we had UGLY weekend uniforms to wear, courtesy of “House of Estella”.

Imagine an ugly blue plaid skirt. Really. Ugly. Plaid. Now imagine a matching vest cut in the “bolero” style to wear with a contrasting mystery material turtleneck blouse. Add a pair of thick white tights and then multiply it all by two.

Yes. Mom made ugly matching outfits for her girls to wear outside to play. She would stand there beaming as she’d ask us to “turn aroud, let me see” and then while grinning like a lottery winner, she’d walk us to the door and  watch  us  walk s  l  o  w  l  y down the block to where our friends were playing.

I wish I could say that our friends on the block were sensitive understanding and kind.  Sharon, David, and Georgette Dent (we always spoke of them as a collective),  and the rest of the gang would point and laugh and generally have a good time at our expense.

After hours of play, the kids would finally forget the joke of the day and we would all settle into whatever made up game we couldn’t get enough of. The “they might be having a good time vibe” would eventually reach my grandmother, who had a full time job stopping fun at any cost.

200 Street in Hollis, Queens is a pretty long block. We lived at 111-39 and the number next door was 4 digits higher or lower than ours, depending on the direction walked.

We would play way ”down the block” at an address like 111-11 or 111-07.

Distance was NEVER a problem for Grandma Lambe in her quest to rob of us the joy of the moment.

She would yell out the window from her bedroom. The whole gang would freeze when the sound of her angry howl  slammed down the block to reached us. For some reason, my sister, Lynda was safe – it was me she wanted. Me.

My friends became a Greek Chorus, “Ooooooooooooooh.”

Dead.

Man.

Walking.

As I would slowly made my way back up the block, the list of my possible transgressions seemed to grow. I was scared to go home yet afraid to ignore my grandmother’s call.

I’d go to my grandmother’s bedroom door, listening to her fussing to herself as she bustled around her room. trying to gather the courage to knock.

“Come in!” she’d snap in response to my very weak tap on her door.

“Let me see your new outfit. Come here, girl.”

I shuffled into her bedroom, eyes down, awaiting her judgement.

“Hmmmph.” And then under her breath, “she still thinks she can sew I don’t see why she makes those gals up like little monkeys dressing up to go outside to play.”

I’d freeze in place – inner turmoil. Defend my sweet misguided mother and risk the wrath of Geneva or just take it and live to see another day?

Well folks, I’m still here so it’s obvious that my moms went undefended that Saturday morning.

Sorry Mommy.

Superstition Stuff

The building I work in has 13 floors, but to get to the 13th floor, you need to press the number 14. In the year 2008, superstition is so well ingrained in our culture that we consistantly delude ourselves. How does one develop triskaidekaphobia – or more accurately, why is this phobia the building standard?

Does it actually make anyone feel better to pretend that there is no 13th floor in any building in the USA? Are people working on the 7th floor of any building luckier than others since it’s perceived that the number 7 is a “good” number?

I’ve actually seen someone in line at the grocery store buy another item, since her change from her real purchase was $6.66 and she refused to take it. She refused to accept money due to her and bought an unneccessary item. I’ll happily take any amount of money and put in in the bank and I’ll never understand giving away good money. Who believes that a “devil” cares about a number or the reverse, that a “god” cares about a number?

What happens if you’re the 666th person who happens to do anything? The 666th immigrant – the 666th person listed in the telephone book – the 666th person to recieve a degree?

Should we avoid contact with our 13 month old children since they’re supposedly safer at 14 months old? How about our 13 year old children? (never mind – 13 years old really is a dangerous time)

My cat named John Starks was black and certain people avoided him, explaining to me that my cat brought bad luck. WTF?

Walking down the street with certain people is amusing since they don’t want to “split the pole” and my goal is to see how many times I can make them actually backtrack so the pole isn’t split. Funny as hell!

The only danger in walking under a ladder is if someone about the ladder drops something on your head.

Remember Stevie Wonder’s song “Superstition”? “…if you believe in things that you don’t understand, then you’ll suffer…superstition ain’t the way…”

MVP Stuff (some cute pants stuff first)

Mmmm. Mmmmm. Mmmmm. (It’s getting hot in here!)

Okay – back to bin’ness.

The Giants’ Defense should be awarded a special MVP based on their giving 100% EVERY SINGLE PLAY OF THE GAME!!!