Archive | September, 2010

This is how Barbara Streisand must have felt in Yentl…

29 Sep

I haven’t been being me. Which is the whole reason I ever decided to blog in the first place. I’ve been trying to keep it pretty clean, since I often comment on The Pioneer Woman and I know that’s gotten me some clickies, and I didn’t wanna scare any of those lovely people away.

But the truth is, I cuss. A lot. More like Jenny, The Bloggess than Ree, the Pioneer Woman. And that’s okay. I love them both. But I have to be Jo.Or I’ll never be able to blog about anything and I’ll have to keep all my weird thoughts in my head for fear of offending anyone and then I’ll get a huge headache from internalizing my struggles and then that’ll just suck. So yeah.

Well. That feels better.


Awesome. Now I’m leaking lube.

21 Sep

I went to the gyno today and it was pretty delicious because my new doctor was to the point and got it overwith pretty fast. I got pretty mad when supposedly she was checking my uterus and basically fisted me which totally caught me off guard. But then I thougt about it and it was cool. Not because I enjoyed it or anything. But because I remembered that’s just what gynos do. Not that I DIDN’T enjoy it… wait, I didn’t. fuck.

They gyno has never been that bad for me, so I guess I’m lucky. whatever. I took the day off of work so I suppose I’ll FINALLY finish my dining room table and do some laundry.

Dracula? Really?

20 Sep

This weekend was flippin’ awesome. Friday night one of my best friends, Sid, and I went to this new lounge in Adams Morgan (bar and awesome-late-night-eats central) and had a really good time. It was refreshing to be in a place where the men wanted to have a conversation and not just rub their weenie on my bootay. I have a boyfriend for that, thanks. The only problem with Grey Goose Mansion is that they’re backed by Grey Goose (obviously) so it’s the only vodka they serve and use that to justify charging me $12 for a vodka sunrise. Any buzz I would have felt from the liquor was impeded when I ordered two, one for me and one for Siddy, handed her a 20, then nearly fainted when she said “oh, it’s $24.”

But anyway, had a great time and wore heels that had me walking like I had advanced scoliosis.

Then Saturday, I hung out with my Siddamuffin again. It was our friend Candi’s birthday (Yes, her legal name is Candi and no, she’s not a stripper) so we went to a mexican restaurant then clubbing on U street. Sid and I both don’t like the food at the restaurant the birthday girl chose so we mostly consumed these:

The club we went to is a Howard University favorite because on Friday nights it’s free to get in and drinks are a dollar from 6 to 9. However, it was Saturday. We didn’t have to pay a cover but drinks were full price and we got there at 10 when usually us Howard kids are out of there when the drink specials are over so Sid and I were in a funk while our friends (University of Maryland graduates, ick) enjoyed the hell out of themselves. Then a super weird guy dressed in bell bottoms and a turtleneck came up to me and got really close to my face and told me his name was Alucard. I told him mine was Amber. Then he asked me what Alucard was backwards and I told him I didn’t care and then he said that he expected me to be smarter. Then he said, “it’s dracula! hahahahaha!” Then I told him to leave me alone. It was really quite awkward.

Really, dude?


Sunday (funday!) I went to Sid’s and we hopped on the metro and headed to Crystal City for a Latin food and wine festival. It was incredible. $20 for all you can taste and eat, and the food and wines were soooo good. In order to prevent too much drunkenness, they had bags of baguettes and an endless supply of water for the people there. If you live in the DC area please go to Jaleo and get the Sopa Fria for dessert. It’s a chilled berry soup and it’s so amazingly delicious you won’t know what to do with yourself.

Right when we were leaving, I got a call from one of my dearest friends and he said he was going to the Redskins game and asked if I could keep an eye on this:

Why'd you put this bow on my head, mommy?

My precious goddaughter, Chloe. So I spent the evening with her. And it was good.

Even though she spit up on me. But I forgave her. Mostly because her mom puts really huge bows on her head and I feel bad.

Does this blog make me look fat?

17 Sep

I have a serious issue with lying. This includes the notion that if a woman asks if she looks fat, the correct answer is alway no. That’s just stupid. This has actually caused a few arguments in my current relationship, because after wearing my boyfriend down, I finally get the answer to whatever question he was afraid to answer honestly for fear of hurting my feelings.

I can get that you want your loved one to be happy. That’s fine. What’s not fine is sending a friend or lover out into the world looking like they tried to squeeze into something they saw at Baby Gap.

I also realize that this is the fault of women. When people, especially our significant others tell us something about ourselves that we’ve been trying to deny, it hurts. But at least it’s the truth. If you don’t like it, fix it. Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, nor questions to which the answer is too much for you to handle.

And if your honey tells you that you don’t look great in the outfit you’ve decided, be grateful that he doesn’t want you walking around looking like a hot dog that exploded in the microwave or a Lady Gaga backup dancer wannabe. Stop scaring our men into lying to us when we complain about them being dishonest all the time.

*hops off soapbox*

You know what really grinds my gears?

9 Sep

When boyfriend has been texting me all day long, telling me how much he can’t wait to watch football and eat chicken wings and cuddle.

And 20 minutes later, he’s fast asleep.


All I need in life.

8 Sep

My dining set has finally arrived. I know I griped about the stupid shipping company and how they said they didn’t do stairs and all that but the guy was on time, and went against company policy and took it up the stairs for me. Thanks, dude!

But that’s not what I came here to write about today, I’ll post how putting it together goes when I get to it. I came to write about this…

The Nikon D3000. (It’s actually the 3100 but I’m too lazy energy conservative to go get the right picture)

I think it’s gorgeous. And the back of the camera isn’t super scary like most swanky cameras.

Now, this is why I need it:

1) My camera sucks. Really. It’s a digital camera by Polaroid that I can’t stand because everything comes out blurry. Also, if I use the flash the picture is too light or even too dark depending on how light my subject is. If I leave the flash off, I can’t see anything at all.

2) I have a gorgeous goddaughter that deserves to be photographed so I can plaster her face all over my cubicle but my camera never wants to work when she’s around.

3) Just the sight of it makes me really, really happy.

And I think that’s all that matters.

The Wal Marts strikes again

3 Sep

Two weeks ago I ordered a pretty super awesome dining room table from Wal Mart. I was dead set on having a counter height table, but I didn’t want to pay counter height prices, and I was thrilled to find one for a good price that I really liked.


So, I ordered her.

It was a new product and there were no reviews on it, so we’ll see how that goes but I fell in love. The shelves underneath is where I’ll keep cards and board games!

Grown Up cards and board games.

But I’m rambling.

So I get this call from a 1-866 number while at work one day. I ignore it. I google it, and it’s the number from the listed shipping company that wal mart uses. I check the voicemail they leave and hooray! My dining room table is here!

Actually, it’s in Baltimore.

Which is 45 minutes away WITHOUT traffic. And there’s always traffic. On a regular day. It’s the day before a holiday weekend. It sucks.

So, then I try to schedule a delivery for this weekend when it’s, you know CONVENIENT, and the tell me that they don’t do requests (What?) and that they’ll be in my area on Tuesday (Really?) between 10 and 2 (ok, seriously?).

So I curse the guy out in my head and concede to taking the morning off work and being there. Then the guy says, “oh yeah. We don’t do stairs.”


So now, I have to be home when they deliver my 150 pound dining set and I have to figure out how to get it into my second floor apartment?

Fuck My Life.

And fuck you, Wal Mart.