This is what greets me on the freeway: traffic going 3 mph.

And this is what was waiting for me on my chair; a stack of freaking work. I thought I was starting off with a clean slate, but I guess not.

My boss is on vacation and won't be back until Monday, so I have a minute to get back in the groove of things. Today, I basically went to different departments and got caught up on the latest going ons of the company. I didn't get much work done, but towards the end of the day I finally got my groove back and completed a few leases. Now I just have to get used to waking up before noon. So nighty night blog, it's almost midnight and I have to rise in 7 hours...

**BTW, I tried to photo blog from my phone today and I guess Blogger isn't receptive to such things. So for my photo blog, just check out my Twitpics widget on the right. Or if you're already on Twitter, add me.


OK, I'm being lazy; I'll admit it. Anywho, here is an oldie but goodie. I'm going back to Vegas soon, in June actually, but this posts just reminds me why I got tired of going approximately every 3 months. All those times my boyfriend didn't want to come and told me to just take my homegirl with me... If he only knew. That silly goose. He acts as if it's known as Heavenly City...

At the OPM nightclub that night. Aww, when I had braces

So we were musing about her Vegas trip and it got me thinking of an incident that happened to me in Vegas. The "incident" was this guy I met at the OPM in Caesars Palace. He had a 6 inch flat-top that didn't stand straight up, it was actually at a 90 degree angle, as if it was trying to run from his face. He carried an old-school "banana" cell phone with a moto razor glued to it. He also had on a very "colorful" suit. Some of you Vegas strip clubbers may have seen him before. He seems like he frequents the clubs on the strip.
Upon our entrance to the dance floor, he started dancing with me. Now when I say dancing, I mean he was crouched down on the floor with his legs wide open. His butt was probably about 1.5 feet off the ground and he somewhat hopped with the beat while thrusting his pelvis against me. His pelvis was literally hitting my knee.
So my dancing, turned into a boring lil side-to-side step, so that he would see that I was uninterested and move-on. But nope, he just kept on hoping his lil heart away. But this is the kicker... He was also talking through all of this: "Damn you look good" "Do you wanna be in my video""You ever been in a video""Whooo yeah, that's it, get it girl, you doing it now" *rolling eyes* By this time, I dropped the side-to- side and was just swaying. He actually put his hands on my hips to try to move me. We were at the end of the dance floor and people were walking behind him, laughing. It was an interesting picture. And if I wasn't so embarrassed I would have gotten a picture of him. So when I stopped moving all together and tilted my head up and started scratching my scalp, he finally got the picture. But he didn't leave without giving me a card which contained his myspace address. Yes, he has a "myspace" card.
Unfortunately, I never returned to the dance floor. I didn't want to take my chances of running into the "hopping" man, as he blocked the entrance to the dance floor. But then, there was another dude, but that's a whole other story of irritation, for another day.So here's his address. Check out his page, he's "interesting." And he loves that banana/razor phone, more than I love my blackberry.

All pics were snatched from his myspace page.
No lie, check him out his myspace profile here.



I know a lot of blogs posted Mother's Day gift ideas this week. And since Lolo's Cube is a fashion and shopping blog, it seems like I should have been chugging along with the others, but I got blogger's block. Sorry. But in my laziness and procrastination I came up with the perfect gift idea.

These last few weeks, I've been home full time due to a minor foot surgery. During this time I've done things such as dishes, laundry and floors. I want to confirm that I hate doing dishes, laundry and floors.

Usually, I drop my laundry off at the fluff and fold before heading to the mall and in the time it takes me to spend the balance of my latest pay raise, my laundry is fluffed and folded. But all week, Sweetums has been telling me that all his boxers are dirty, but he just can't make it to the laundry. So of course, I went and bought him a pack. This is what I usually do when I run out of drawers and my visits to the fluff and folds are lacking. But he kept running out, and boxers costs money. So, like a nice stay-at-home girlfriend, I washed his clothes at my mom's house.

The dishes I do about once a week. There is only two of us, and we *clears throats* I mean he only cooks a few times a week, so there isn't much need in this area. But since I'm home, the dishes pile up a lot faster and they're all my dishes. I can't expect him to clean up after me everyday, even though I'm semi-handicap (or temporarily disabled, as my red parking placard reads), so I've been doing dishes more times than usual.

The floors, I always mean to do every 2 weeks. But when it was time for me to do the kitchen floor, it was my surgery week and that week was pretty crazy. Then I was told to not walk for 3 days afterwards and was sleeping days after that, due to medication side effects. Needless to say, the kitchen floor was long overdo. So, I dragged that big azz semi handicap boot across the apartment and mopped the kitchen floor.

These are the things that I've always hated doing: chores and cleaning. And they're all the things that our mothers do without thinking. Cleaning the house, while feeding us and whipping our snotty noses without missing a beat. Some doing it alone, as my mother did, with 4 bad azz children coming behind her to reverse all her work. But with the title of Mother, comes these responsibilities. And though all my siblings are adults, I'm taking away these responsibilities from her, at least for a year.

Momma Lo is getting one year of maid service. I've already worked it out with the cleaning lady. It's the least I can do to say thanks for wiping my snooty nose and sorry for shaking the Fruity Pebbles cereal on the kitchen floor, right after you put your gleaming touch on it. Thanks Mom, Love you.

We've come a long way, and this year has been one of the best in a long while, so I wanted to give the gift of relaxation.

Other Mother's Day gifts I was pondering:
A cruise
A weekend at a luxury hotel, with room service and in-room massage
A day at the luxury spa

And I would like to say Happy Mother's Day to the blogging Mother's.

Cassie of Celeb Blitz
Poca of Real Stars Don’t Struggle to Shine
Lady Shay of Sips, Hips 'N Kicks
Thoughts of a Southern Gal
PCD (Pretty Circle Drawer) of THE PRETTY CIRCLE
Celena of Strictly Fabulous
Liz of Los Angelista's Guide To The Pursuit Of Happiness

Happy Mother's Day.

My apologies if I didn't mention you.


Ok, that's cool. I was gonna blog about myself today anyway, lol.

The Rules
Link the person who tagged you: Veronica Wright (Hunnie) of The Ups (and downs) of Being Wright.
Mention the rules in your blog.
Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours.
Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them.
Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger's blogs letting them know they've been tagged.

My Issues

1. My mind is always in the gutter. Yep it just is. After I turned 25, I just started bouncing off the wall. So where ever I am, it just invades my thoughts. So if you see me in a business meeting, slightly licking my lips, while staring off in the distance, just let me be.

2. I wanted to be a naughty girl sales person. Still do, but decided to wait until I recovered from my foot surgery. I mean, I'd just be holding dildos in the air and going on about the marvelous attributes it possesses, and every one would be staring at my huge roboboot. I love all those toys and such. Yeah, you could say that I'm passionate about them, so it'll be the perfect item to sell. I even created a blog around the stories that might come as being this type of sales person, as well as erotic stories, but maybe once it all comes about I'll actually post something.

3. I never curse in real life. Well, when I really want to emphasize something, or when I'm in character. That will be about once a day, maybe more if my life is a wreck, but it doesn't count, cause I'm in character... I'll curse in a blog though. But doesn't adding *, ! and @ make it clean. You know like when a curse word is bleeped.

4. I didn't graduate from high school. Nope just didn't. Wanted to, but had no choice.

5. I hate answering the phone. Mostly because it disturbs me from being on the Internet. When I'm at home, I'm on my laptop, but I'll put you on mute and keep typing. When I'm on the iPhone, well, I have no choice, because Edge deactivates when the phone is in use. When I'm at work, well it's mostly because some one is calling me about my equivalents assigned buildings, knowing that it's not my building. They'll state that, then acknowledge how busy they know I'm am, and then proceed to ask me about whatever issue they're having. I usually give them the business and kindly transfer the call.

6. I'm addicted to technology. I can't put my iPhone down. Everything is on there. I have all the web apps to all my social network. I'm actually really anticipated the web app for myspace, which is being created by one of my twitter (anther social network) friends.

OK, mom and sister us here to drive me about, so no re-tags. I know this was a little bootleg, but all I had was 15 minutes and time's up.


Or something like that...

So I went to a specialist about my throat. Nothing wrong there. They were like "and why did your doctor send you to us again?" Since my throat was my doctor's biggest concern, and all is well in that area, it makes me optimistic when it comes to my breast. It may be what Veronica said about the lumps in her mom's breast coming from consuming too much caffeine. I've been heavy on the Red Bull at work lately. Plus a large blended coffee drink with a million shots of espresso from Coffee Bean for lunch.

I had my foot surgery early yesterday. It went well of course. A 1-hour out patient procedure.

What happened with my foot? About a year ago I started running a mile, that's 4 full times around the track, approx 5 times a week. I loved it and not just because the pounds were dropping and my body was tightening. My time went from 18 minutes, needless to say, I was run/walking initially, to around 11 minutes in 4 months. It felt so good.

But then I started to notice that my feet were swollen and throbbing after each run. Then it would also happen after I would put in a full day of shopping at the mall. So I got a referral to a podiatrist. The Pod told me that I had a space between the bones in my foot, somewhere between the second and third toe. My foot doesn't look irregular or anything; you wouldn't be able to detect it by looking, only by x-ray. So he said I could either live with the problem of my feet hurting after a lot of activity forever, or I could have surgery to fix the problem with a recovery period of up to a year, since each foot would be done 3 or 4 months apart.

Needless to say, I opted for the surgery. I love running, but that wouldn't last if it continued to cause me pain. So my left foot was done in Sept, about a week before my bday, and that foot healed well. I've even wore heels since then, not too high though; still a little scared to really apply pressure.

This time is the right foot, so I can't drive for a month, while I'm wearing this robo-boot. Which means no work... YAY!!! I'll be using the rest of my sick time, as well as some vacation time, which is cool, because I'm almost maxed there. They are also checking to see if they can get me a laptop to work from home. I don't have a problem with that either; don't want one of those newbies to try and take my number one spot...

Needless to say, I'll be all up and through the bloggersphere in the coming weeks. But for now I'm off to bed. The meds got my speech slurring, so I'm sure my typing isn't any better.


I'm not too sure anymore...

So I'm supposed to have foot surgery on Friday. As a precaution, I had to get a full exam from my doctor. The Dr. found a lump in each of my breast as well as something irregular in my throat. I'm still not sure what's what, or the exact diagnosis or what's the exact problem. All I know is I left the dr's office with about 4 referrals. My dr made the assistant call the other medical facilities to schedule emergency appointments for me. It seemed so unreal.

The appointments for my throat are in the morning. I have to meet with two different doctors. Hopefully, it turn out to be nothing. Hopefully... The doctor said I should only be worried if I previously had black outs and similar issues. But how would I know, lol. I know it's no time to joke. I've been asking those around me if I've been blacking out and with a raised eyebrow, they've all told me "no." So tomorrow we'll see. Hopefully I just slept wrong or something.

And apparently, the throat is a much bigger issue than the breast, but the breast scares me. My aunt died of breast cancer. She had her breast removed, but not before it spread to her lung. She was also my God Mom. She died when I was in the 4th grade, but I still miss her soo much.

My cousin also died of cancer at the age of 25. I don't remember what cancer she had, but it took her quickly. She had fallen in love with the guy she was dating. She went to the doctor for some birth control and and they found the cancer. She died a few months later. I think I was 19 at the time. She was my favorite cousin.

Fast forward to the dr telling me that I may have a lump in each breast and the tears streaming down my face as I thought about the fate of my cousin and aunt; the dr.'s words were a blur. Rewind to the last time I had these feelings that cancer was creeping back into my life. I was working as a check cashing teller at the Nix Checking Cashing in Watts about 10 years ago. It was 10 minutes before closing and I was handling the last of the customers. My mother called me to tell me that her dr found a cyst in her breast. Again with the tears, this time, I was counting out money to the customers. I remember a guy walking away from the window with his money saying that I was crying like I was giving away my own money. No idiot, I thought I was going to loose my mother. Turns out her cysts were nothing.

She always assured me that we didn't have to worry about cancer. Said that she had her own father, and that cancer runs in her sibling's father's family, separate from our bloodline. Hopefully that's the case. The lumps are located in the same place of each breast, so maybe it's from the bras I wear or something. *shrugs*

So I've been upset all day and finally text my boyfriend to tell him what's going on. His phone can't receive calls from his basement office. So we finally get each other on the phone. I tell him what's going on, and we talk about what it could mean and that it's going to be ok and all that stuff. So he tells me that he's going to some kind of improv thing with his friend, and I ask him to stay at home with me, but he just can't miss whatever this thing is. I mean, I guess I could have told him that I needed him to stay home with me tonight, just tonight. I never ask him to change his plans, and I'm not usually emotionally needy, but since my life may have changed, I thought he would stay. I mean, who knows if I'll be around tomorrow.

But I guess a kiss on the cheek or a stroke on my arm doens't cure cancer, or whatever may or may not be wrong with me. So why do I really need him here. I can wipe my own damn tears...


They were in my purse; the one I've been carrying for the past 2 months. Who would have thought?

I always joke with Sweetums about how the rattle from my handbag makes me sound like a pill popper. And in my deranged state I didn't even think of checking my suitcase of a handbag that holds my whole life. I only went into the purse because I needed to put my cell on the charger, and taadaaa, there they were.

I took one pill. After the pain slowed I had my nightly popsicle. I awoke in the bed pants-less around noon. I don’t remember how i got there or removing my pants. Last thing I recall was laying across his thigh on the couch while he watched 30 Days of Night for the 50th time.

I was happy to see my closet in order. I mean the shoes were put back on the shelves, as well as the handbags and my foot spa and steamer. Though the shoes weren't in order of heel height or color order and some leather bags were on the same shelves as canvas shelves, I can’t complain. He tried. At least I don't have to bend down and pick it all up.

So I got up and fixed us some eggs sausage, grits and toast. And I’m still waiting on my tip on that one, LOL. I was still sleepy, so I took a catnap that lasted until 5 when he came home from working.

So I had him to take me to run some errands. I don't know why, but I like having him drive me around, though in my car. And it ain't cause I’m lazy, LOL. So on my list of errands was putting a new prescription for my upcoming surgery. Some dayum Vidodin again. Probably will never open the bottle, but like the other night, never know when you'll need one. Plus Cigpin at work keeps asking to buy my meds. I always turn her down, but I do recognize that the pills are worth a lil bit of money. I look at them as another savings account.


"where is it?" I'm frantically walking/running through our apartment with the jitters. I'm shaking and shit. "Where is it?" I must look crazy right now. I think I'm scaring Sweetums. If he would just leave me the heyell alone to my search and stop asking me what's wrong; as if I want to talk right now. As if I could…

I just passed a mirror, yeah; I can confirm that I do look crazy. I took my bra off when I first walked through the door, so my titees are justa bouncing with my every frantic step. We ate barbeque tonight, so my pants are still unbuttoned from when I relieved the muffin top that resulted from eating ribs from Phillip's Bar-B-Que for dinner. And yeah, I have a few burgundy colored sauce stains on my new pink and white top that I bought from the Ann Taylor outlet last weekend. My hair is all over the place, because after I took off my bra, I also removed my pony tail holder; I always do these things, in this order whenever I come home without the plan of exiting my apt. So my hair is all over the place from taking a nap earlier. My eyes are big, they just are, nothing new. "Where is it?" I'm walking from closet to closet, room to room tossing things around. The first placed I tossed was the bathroom, then the home office and living room and now my last resort is the closet.

I'm tossing each shoe from my shoe closet listening for a rattle as I do so. Some shoes haven't been worn for over a year. They're saying the same thing that Meredith Grey said to Mc Dreamy, "pick me choose me," but disappointed when they see the floor rapidly approaching as they fly through the air. Each shoe drops with a simple thud, and I think I hear a small cry of disappointment. *sigh* "where is it?"

On top of my shoes, each handbag is on the floor upside down or sideways, with its contents empty. I've carried each bag for an average of 3 months, never longer than 4. My birthday is in September, Sweetums buys me a new bag. Then xmas, he buys me another. Valentines, almost 3 months later, another piece of arm candy. June comes around; need a new bag for summer, this one I buy for myself. Each of those $300-$600 Coach, Dooney and Marc by Marc Jacobs bags, they only have 3 months of glory, followed by a shelf life of up to 2 years. Now they're on the floor being trampled as their neighbor anticipates the same fate. Going from neglected to abuse is a bad fate.

But "where the fuck is it?" once the essentials was transferred to the new bag, the old bag was never cleared of its content. In the bag, you'll find receipts for 3 months, 3 months worth of movie tickets. New pictures of my niece nephew and goddaughter given to me those 3 months. Three months worth of check stubs, business cards of folks I met that September, October and November. The lip-gloss I favored as well as my got-to lotion during that quarter of the year.

But to no avail, the three objects that I received from three different occurrences in my life can't be found in any of my bags. The first occurrence is getting my wisdom tooth pulled, the second is getting my teeth pulled for my braces and the third occurrence is getting foot surgery. Each time I was given Vicodin or Tylenol Codeine. Three different bottles of approximately 24 pills in each. Each time I took approx 3 or 4 pills, and left the rest be. Didn't need them, didn't want them. I don't like drugs and avoid when possible.

But now I need them. Gawd how I want them. Where the fuck are they? What the fuck happened to the other 60 or so pills? Sweetums isn't a pill popper so what gives. I've tossed my drawers, including the one that contains balls, bullets and batteries, but still nothing. We moved a few months ago, but we moved us and no one else. They couldn't have been missing before then, but who knows. There have been a few family functions, but siblings would have simply told me they were jacking. Maybe the culprit was Sweetum’s customers who ask to use the restroom and riffle through the medicine cabinet. *shrugs* Who knows.

So now I'm here under this laptop and it feels like I'm getting my teeth pulled again, but this time without the pain killers. But slowly, not abruptly as in real life. Just pulling just so, while still holding onto that plier-like extraction device that dentists use, then pulling enough to bring the pain to a throb. Then holding while watching me wiggle, squirm and tear, then when I’m used to that level of pain, another throbbing pull.

I have Advil and Nyquil, hopefully that’ll get me through the night. But I’m thinking I’ll really need the strong stuff to finally go to sleep…

And I eat a popsicle every night before bed. Besides the paid, I can’t take that coldness, but another reason why I won’t get to sleep tonight.



That was a close one. *wipes brow*

Our department had this big deadline on the 9th. It was a do or die deadline. So since none of us lease administrators were even close to this deadline, the synopsis of the department was that we were going to get fired. Every time one of my fellow LA’s would exit the bosses’ office, another would ask, “Did you get fired?” and he or she would say, “Naw, not this time around.” Then another time, when I came out of her office, one asked, “So we still getting fired?” And I would say, “Not today. Probably tomorrow once the deadline arrives…”

Technically, none of our jobs are in jeopardy, but the task was presented in a way that said unemployment was on the horizon, if not complete. So then there was an email sent out requesting mandatory overtime. I tried to pull some extra hours. I came in early on days I knew I couldn’t stay late, and cut my lunches down to 30 minutes. Do you know how hard it is to get to work at 630 am, when your regular arrival time is 830. Even did a Saturday and a Sunday here and there. But one Wednesday, the byf and I took a trip to PF Changs, which caused me to call in sick on Thursday. Then on Saturday and Sunday, I didn’t come to work either, as I had to do some research for an upcoming school assignment. So Monday comes and my grand boss (my boss’ boss) asks to see my progress and when she learns that I’m not as far ahead as she thought I should be, she said I would get reprimanded if I didn’t finish on time.

On top of that, we still have our regular work. So I’ll be working on something from the project, and we’ll get an email from my boss, asking for status on rent rolls, because she hasn’t been cc’ed on any outgoing emails, and that the emails should have been sent out yesterday. So we’re like, “aw fuck” and start working on rent rolls. An hour later we’ll get an email about mimo forms and how they shouldn’t be on our desk for over 24 hours, and the same thing over and over again all dayum day. No one can work like this.

So I march my azz, right up to HR to release some frustration. I know that our grandboss had been evaluated by some of the managers under her, and the synopsis was that she assigns impossible deadlines. Ya think? So I tell my HR manager everything. She’s real cool. She’s the kind of hr person that has the back of the employee and will give you neutral answers and advice. So we get down to the school vs work issue. And I tell her that I’m not doing so well in school either, because I have to work so much and if I was succeeding in at least one, it wouldn’t be so bad. So now she’s pissed, because she knows how much my education means to me.

As I’m speaking, she’s writing everything down. So then she asks if she could approach my greatgrandboss with this issue, the CFO, and I’m like, uhh, ok, sure, why not. So then she says, hmm, that means that I’m going to have to talk to the 1st VP of HR also, is that ok, and I’m like well, I guess, umm whatever. She goes on to tell me that I’m not the only one that has complained and so on and so forth, so it won’t be like all of this came from me, just a collective issue from a whole department.

So I go back to my desk and I’m not looking forward to the next couple of days. On top of the upcoming deadline date, I’m sure that talk is going to bit me in the butt. Plus the grandboss was at Disney World for a week, and while it seemed like I should be pizzed at this, since I was dayum near living in the office, I was happy she was across the country.

So on Monday, the day before the deadline, I hear the CFO’s voice and he goes into the grandboss’ office. I’m super nervous, hoping I don’t get called in there also. I didn’t. But the next day, she asks me to stop by her office. OH, I could have died. So I decide not to put it off, and I’m in their with my lil professional leather covered journal.

She starts by talking about the review process that happened about a month ago. She then talks about how she fought to get me more money above the average raise of most in the company. And all the time my eyebrows are furrowed and my head is going in a slow boob. Then she says she’s raising my salary again. And I’m like, “Umm, Okaaay?” *looks around for the hidden camera* And that was it. She tells me that I’m a resource to the department, and she hopes I continue to make myself available to any new hires or temps. And I’m like, “Sure, whatev, they have questions and I have answers.” She asked me if I had any questions and I didn’t. She said since I looked so shocked, if I think of any later on, to feel free to stop by her office. And I’m ok, cool, I guess. *still looking around for Ashton Kutcher*

Soooo, basically, if you count last month’s raise and what not, I’m making 10k more a year. I guess I should be happy. *shrugs* Who wouldn’t want more money.

I usually raise my 401k and savings deposit when I get raises. But since my 401k is at 12%, I think I might let this raise ride out for a few months. Maybe buy myself a new wardrobe, like I’ve been meaning to. I’m still looking over my shoulder though.

The Bums, The Bums, They Love Me...

Why does this only happen to me?

For the third time a bum has asked me out.

The first time was outside of the gym downstairs. The bum told me I was pretty and tried to talk to me. I brushed him off because he looked as old as my father. But I wasn't too harsh, because I thought he worked in my building. He looked normal and was actually really hansom. He had on tennis shoes, a t-shirt and sweat shorts, so I thought he had just exited the gym that’s located on the ground floor of our building. So I went down to the parking lot, got in my car and drove around the corner, heading for the freeway. I saw him on the island in the middle of Wilshire, with his little "bum" sign asking for money. He saw me, but wouldn't make eye contact. I was shaking my head. He seemed intelligent and was actually articulate; he should have been working in my building.

The second time was when I was going to work on a Sunday. While waiting to get buzzed in the building, by the slow assed security, this guy approached me and started talking to me. He was around my age and looked normal too. He said that he had seen me in the area before and I told him that I worked here. Then he said that he did to, and showed me his "bum" sign that he was holding. He said the dude on the street island was tripping and that he was going to the island across the street. I realized he was coming from the island before he had approached me. I had initially thought that maybe he was crossing the street, coming from the direction of UCLA. He asked for my number, I turned him down swiftly. He made his way to the traffic-less Jr. island across the street.

Now from what I've seen from taking my breaks outside, working the corners on Wilshire is like working for Corporate America. Usually the person with the most seniority in the department gets first choice of vacation time during a holiday, even if the newbie made the initial request. This concept is similar to bum Island, except the seniors can kick off the newbies, no matter if the newbie arrived first. And sometimes there is a waiting list for the corner. I was outside taking my break the other day and the bum lady walked by and hollered to the man on the island that she had next, and then he said that he'd save her spot. So I guess they have shifts also. Yep, just like corporate America. I wonder if they get benefits and stock options too.

So Bridge and I are outside taking a break, and this bum approaches and asks one of the other people on the bench for a cigarette and light. He started with the first person, and then went on to the second, until he got what he wanted. Then he did the same thing again, this time going down the bench and asking every one for $5. He was blunt and serious, and then was looking flabbergasted when no one supplied the cash. Now this bum holds the bum crown. He was a young white boy, dressed in skater clothing, though he looked like he rolled down a muddy hill a few times. He had sandy brown hair. If he washed it, it probably would be blonde, but it looked like it had brown sand in it, therefor: sandy brown. His teeth were thick ass hell, about a half-inch. Mostly tartar. If it wasn't for the tartar and plaque, he probably wouldn't have any teeth. Actually, they looked like a wide tooth, a unitooth, since you couldn't see where each tooth ended.

So he's all jittery, like he really needs a high. He's probably a meth addict. He finally gets to us and lingers. We know the question is coming, but we continue to carry on our conversation. Then he finally asks us, I turn him down flatly. So then he steps back and throws his head back in laughter, like he's Tyson Beckford, and I look like a 400 lb. female version of Patrick Ewing, who just turned down one night with him; I should be honored.

Next he asks me to buy him a Rick James cd and disc man. "Charge it," he said. WTF. Of all people why would he mention Rick James? Rick James must have been the last black artist he listened to, when he was apart of the real world. He must have thought that he had found a common ground with me, like we would connect of the strength that he liked Rick James. *Rolling eyes* And did he have the audacity, to ask me to buy him a cd player. So then I told him no and again Bridge and I continued talking as if he wasn't standing there. That's when he decided to ask me out. He suggested that we go to the movies and get something to eat, as if he wasn't the same person that was just bumming. "No," once again. That's it, that's all, no more words were needed.

He started to get a little disgruntle, so I was going to make my way back to the building to get Security. Technically, Security can't do anything (security guards note and observe, while it's the police who actually are supposed to protect and serve), but they're big and Black, so that has to count for something. And he was on meth, not water. A person on water can lift a building, but a meth addict can't even lift his head, so I could have taken him if I had too. Plus Bridge had my back. But in the end, I didn't want to be the Black girl who was seen fighting in front of the building.

But what is it about me that attract these bums. I know I'm me *brushes hair off shoulder* (haha, jk, well not really) But all my friends are attractive and they've never told me anything about being approached by a bum. The last guy was 51-50 and probably didn't remember anything that he was saying, even as the words left his lips, but the other two were serious. Did they think I was going to come outside and have lunch with them on the island? Where they going to take me on a date with dollar bills and change?

Maybe I'm too friendly...

I Was Sooo Going to Blog This Morning…

I know it’s been a week and a day. My intention when I first started Lolo in Real Life was to blog at least once a week. But guess what? The real Lolo is a procrastinator…

I had a good logical post prepared, but I forgot that I setup my iPhone to automatically deletes my photos once the photos are downloaded to Adobe. But I’m still going to blog. Maybe this post should have been titled What Could Have Been, because this could have been a better entry if I had the photos to accompany my prepared post.

It could have been about the issues I’m still dealing with from my childhood. And from my teenage years... And from my early adult years… And from last year, last month, last week, and last but not least, yesterday…

It could have been about my mother’s dependency on her children. Of her thinking that we’re supposed to take care of her and not just care for her.

It could have been about my mother telling me I need to have at least one child, so that when I become older, I’ll have a child to take care of me and not just care for me.

It could have been about how I increased my 401k this quarter, because I want to have enough funds upon retirement, so that I won’t be a burden on my child, if I eventually choose to reproduce.

It could have been about how I don’t think I’ll ever reproduce. I had this thought when lil Lela was being born. It was scary; I didn’t think she was going to make it. And for the record, giving birth is not sexy.

It could have been about how giving birth isn’t supposed to be sexy…

It could have been about how I’ll contact the Black perv Dr on the E! plastic surgeon show to make sure my vjayjay snaps back properly after the birth. Our family has big heads…

It could have been about how I’m thinking of having the g-shoot in my g-spot, by the same perv Dr, but think it’s a waste since we only get to have sex once a week.

It could have been about my boyfriend and our money issues. Funny thing is, neither of us is lacking in that area, but it’s still an issue in our relationship.

It could be about how I still want to give my boyfriend half on the flat screen, though he said I didn’t have too. I’m sure he’ll bring it up at his convenience…

It could be about my dad coming over to pickup the old tv last night. And how I enjoyed his company. I’m still daddy’s lil girl.

It could be about how I thought this post would only contain a few lines, now I see that I could go on and on and on. So I filtered and will save some for next week.

It could have been about how I'm so going to visit all my commenters sites, which I've already bookmarked, but have been too busy to read and comment.

It could have been about my successes, failures, strengths, weaknesses, accomplishments, goals and dreams.

It could be about how it’s all about nothing and everything at the same time.

I'm Trying to Stay Out of Jail...

So a few weeks ago, I got a jury notice. I waited until the last minute to respond. Once I was finished registering, the voice told me to call the day before my assigned week, so that another voice could tell me if I was required to attend the following day.

My assigned week feel on a holiday. Whatever that past holiday was, I think President's Day, so I was in the clear for that Monday. That Monday night I called to see if I had to report on Tuesday, but I was cleared for another day. Tuesday night comes and I blog, cleanse, and then sleep. Wednesday comes and it wasn't until lunch that I realized I hadn't called the jury line. I dial the number and the voice tells me that I was scheduled to appear that morning at 8:30 am. I'm panicked until I get costumer service on the line and she simply reschedules me for next week.

So next week rolls around, and oops, I forget again. This time I realize I forgot to call turning into the parking structure at work. Once again the voice tells me I should have reported to jury duty at 8:30am. It was only 8:20am. Funny how the voice speaks in past tense, as if it knows, I fcked up again.

I call again, and again I'm rescheduled for the next week, this week. The operator talks to me in an exasperated voice while sighing and such, like she's knows I'm the same flaky procrastinating chick from last week. But by this time, I'm shaking in my boots and not giving her any lip. Just taking her ish and being thankful the Marshals aren't waiting for me at my cubicle.

So last night rolls around and though I did blog until 1am, I still managed to remember to call and sure enough I had to report. Don't want the popos knocking at my door...

I have to say though, that it's not as bad as I imagined it to be. I thought I'd be in a courtroom, sitting on those hard wooden benches, while waiting to be chosen as a juror. But instead, we're in a large waiting room. The seats are soft and comfy and we have two vending machines as well computers with prepaid Internet access.

It wasn't until lunch time that I noticed a sign saying that the computers could surf the web via a credit card. But there were folks justa longing at the stations. So I did the polite thing and nabbed a chair after I had returned from my swift Burger King run during lunch. We got an hour and a half for lunch, so I knew folks would be taking their time to return.

If I could live off of snickers and butterfingers, this would be heaven. A paid break from work where I could blog and blog hop is the perfect Monday for me. The only drawbacks is that the Internet is a little slow and that I can't live off of Snickers. Wish everyday could be like this though.

And it turns out that they don't send folks to jail for avoiding jury duty anymore. Maybe that was an urban myth, but they just slap them with a $1,500.00. Still, I'm glad I finally made it and next time I might be looking forward to reporting.

All I Can Say Is WOW...

When I entered my new apartment, my boyfriend greeted me with a huge smile from the living room. This is unusual; mostly because he's usually sleep around this time. Every one in my family knows not to call between 6pm and 7 pm, because that's his nap time. I even have to tip toe around here during that time. So I knew something was up when I saw him standing down the hall. I rushed to the living room and this is what I saw...

Yep, I got my very own flat panel TV. It's 42 inches. I know everyone thinks I'm all about shopping and shoes, but ya girl Lolo is a electronics freak at heart. I'm one who upgrades the cell phone approximately every year. I just got the iPhone, which isn't a surprise to those who know me personally. But you know how those Apples re-release upgraded products. Actually, I think my phone is obsolete already...

Anywho, I'm super happy and just wanted to share with everyone. Sweetums is hooking up the Playstation 2 as I type. Yep, I'm a video game nut too. Now it's mandatory for us to have a Wii. Two big azz kids, I tell you.

Black Oscar History

While visiting a few AA forums and blogs, I've read some misinformed commentary regarding Black Oscar History. A few people have said that Black Oscar winners only win for roles protraying blacks in a negative image. While I know this is untrue, I didn't dispuit because 1) I didn't know Black Oscar history off the top of my head, and 2) I didn't have the time or patients to google the issue, just as the commenters didn't, obviously. So when I received this email from the AA forum at work, I had to share with the blogesphere.

Only one African-American woman has won Best Actress in a Leading Role, Halle Berry for Monster’s Ball. When Halle Berry accepted the Academy Award she accepted it on behalf of Dorothy Dandridge, the first African-American women to be nominated Best Actress. In 1958, Sidney Poitier was the first Black actor to be nominated for Best Actor. He won the Academy Award in 1963 for the movie Lilies of the Field. In 1972, the film Sounder was the first film to have Blacks nominated for both Best Actor (Paul Winfield) and Best Actress (Cicely Tyson). In 1993, the second film to have Blacks nominated for both Best Actor (Laurence Fishburne) and Best Actress (Angela Bassett) was What’s Love Got to Do With It. In 2001, when Denzel Washington won Best Actor for Training Day, he became the first Black actor to receive five acting nominations overall, the first Black actor to receive three Best Actor nominations, and the second Black actor to win Best Actor. In 2004 when Jamie Foxx won Best Actor for the Ray Charles movie, he was the third Black actor to win Best Actor and the first Black actor be nominated in the same year for two acting roles (he was also nominated that year for Best Supporting Actor for the movie, Collateral). Last year, Forest Whitaker became the fourth Black Actor to win Best Actor when he received an Academy Award for The Last King of Scotland.

Hattie McDaniel became the first Black person (male or female) to win an Academy Award when she won for Best Supporting Actress in 1939 for the movie Gone With The Wind. Since then, other African-American women nominated for Best Supporting Actress include Alfre Woodard (Cross Creek), Oprah Winfrey (The Color Purple), Ethel Waters, Beah Richards (Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner) and Queen Latifah (Chicago). Whoopie Goldberg became the second African-American woman to win for Best Supporting Actress in Ghost. In 2007, Jennifer Hudson became the third African-American to win Best Supporting Actress for the movie Dreamgirls. This year, Ruby Dee, at age 83, made history when she was nominated for Best Supporting Actress for American Gangster – she is the second oldest nominee in the history of this award and her nomination is for a five-minute performance, the shortest performance ever to be nominated for an Oscar.

Quincy Delight Jones, Jr. is an American music legend and has won Academy Awards for film composition. During five decades in the entertainment industry, Jones has earned 79 Grammy Award nominations and won 27 Grammys. In 1968, Jones and his songwriting partner Bob Russell became the first African-Americans to be nominated for an Academy Award in the Best Original Song category. That same year, he became the first African-American to be nominated twice within the same year when he was nominated for Best Original Score for his work on the music of In Cold Blood. Jones was also the first (and so far, the only) African-American to be nominated as a producer in the category of Best Picture (in 1986, for The Color Purple). He was also the first African-American to win the Academy's Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award in 1995. He is tied with sound designer Willie D. Burton as the most Oscar-nominated African-American, each of them having seven nominations.

Suzanne de Passe is an American entertainment executive; the CEO of television production company de Passe Entertainment and the first and only African-American woman to be nominated for an Academy Award for writing De Passe first became notable as an executive for Motown. At Motown, de Passe helped to produce television and was responsible for signing, coaching, and developing Motown's most popular act of the 1970s, The Jackson 5. Both she and Lonne Elder III became the first African-Americans to be nominated for an Academy Award for writing. She was nominated for co-writing the screenplay for the Berry Gordy-produced Lady Sings the Blues starring Diana Ross as singer Billie Holiday, while Elder was nominated for Sounder. De Passe co-wrote Lady Sings the Blues with Terence McCloy and Motown recording artist Chris Clark. In 1989, Berry Gordy sold Motown Productions to de Passe, who renamed it de Passe Entertainment. The company produces such television shows and feature films such as Class Act, Sister, Sister, Smart Guy, and It’s Showtime at the Apollo. She has won Emmy Awards and in 1990 was inducted into the Black Filmmakers Hall of Fame.

An Oscar nom for a 5 minute performance... I'm routing for you Ruby Dee.

My San Fran Trip...

Well, it seems that I've missed the first unofficial day of Spring in Los Angeles. On Sunday temps rouse to almost 80 degrees. And while the freeway was packed with beach goers, I made a detour through traffic and drove smoothly to work. Trust me no one was headed in my directions.

I'm usually a 9-5er, and the last thing on my weekend's mind is work, except for getting that Monday anxiety. I cringe in my sleep while anticipating that Monday morning alarm clock. Though a few years ago, a spent a lot of time working in that weekend office chair.

It was nothing to work on a Saturday and Sunday. My current record is working 28 days in a row. I worked 3 weeks straight, followed by 4 days and finally I took off Friday to handle personal business, but I returned to work on Saturday.

Everyday at work was a minimum of 10 hours, topping off at 13 hours. My check was fat. So much so that after a promotion and merit raise, I still made more that year than last year. But my Psoriasis levels peaked from being so stressed. And I was on the verge of having an anxiety attack, as well as failing in school. And you know what, the work never stopped.

I've learned my lesson since then. I like my checks small, well not really, but if it's in lieu of my health and education, then I'll pass. But since I somewhat, kind of sort of, insinuated that I may be available to train in San Francisco, my bosses called my bluff.

I worked 8 hours on a beautiful 80 degrees Sunday to prepare for my jet setting meetings. I missed the Grammy's *hunching shoulders* and the return to the beach or hiking in Malibu (thanks Trish for sending me the pix of you all chilling under my fav waterfall, made a sista feel real good *rolling eyes*).

So I left the office at 11pm, and went home with only a few hours to pack and sleep. Of course I bought all new clothes for the trip, so packing was a easy. But the waking up at 5am part wasn't. Well, I woke up, but didn't get out of bed. After dragging my zombie like body through the cleansing and dressing process, I was ready to go. Unfortunately, I was now running late, and for a plane nonetheless.

I ended up circling the airport three times, all the while wondering if the "American" sign represented American Airline. Then I realized that none of the air companies had airline behind the name, because of course, it was an airport. Common sense right? So I finally parked, and with 20 minutes before flight got my ticket and through security, all the while hearing my name called over the speaker.

Needless to say, I was running through the airport like OJ, back in the day. I'm a procrastinator, so this happens every time I fly. So I made it, and they actually gave me a better seat. No one else was in the lobby or waiting to board the plane.

Finally I make it to San Fran, but my grandboss was no where to be found. We were supposed to be on the same flight, and I knew that ice queen would be steaming if I didn't make the flight. So as I didn't seat in our previously assigned seat, but the roomier seats in the front of the plane, I waited for the last passenger to deploy before I realized that she probably didn't make the flight.

So I got to baggage claim, and still she's no where to be found. Couldn't go to the hotel, because I didn't book my own room or even know where it was located, so I took a cab straight to our building.

Well, she eventually called me and said that the flight was full. Funny, don't remember seeing her in the lobby. And I knew for a fact that my seat was empty and that there were plenty of seats available. But I played along with a "aww wow, really, shoot, now that's just awful"...

So we got our day started and what not. We went on a tour of the property. There's a park attached to one of our buildings. There are beautiful sculptures all over the park. Half of the park is owned by us, and the other half owned by the city. The grass is greener on our side...

When we came back out to go to lunch, there were people all over the grass having lunch. I was so jealous. We could never do that at our building, as it's surrounded by cement, and any grassy patches are occupied by the bums. And they're really territorial.

At the end of the day we walk to our hotel, and pass a few more parks. In each park, there's sculptures and artwork. I wish I had taken pictures, but my hands were occupied with luggage. There's artwork around every corner, at least in that part of San Fran. It's so beautiful. Even when we get to our hotel, there's a huge sculpture in the middle of the lobby.

So we all agree to meet up around 7:30 for dinner. Around 7 I get dressed and go down to Coffee Bean and it’s closed. WTF, who knew that San Fran was the city that went to sleep with the chickens, as my grandpa would say...

I go to Ann Taylor, closed. Nine West, closed. Liz Claiborne, closed. Then I just stopped my pursuit for any shopping. I was told that this would be the city to shop, since the store's headquarters are located in San Fran. Well, I guess some one forgot to inform them that I was coming through. The ultimate shopper arrives and they decide to go on a siesta...

So I finally, Starbucks is still open. I get a drink and coffee cake to take back to the room. My boss finally calls and says that the other girls are already in their pajamas and that she would hang with me if I wanted to see the town. I turned her down, just as the other girls did, but without a lie. I have nothing in common with the ice queen and I didn't want to have an uncomfortable dinner. So she tells me I can order room service and what not and we hang up.

It's funny because she was simultaneously sending me an invitation to an ass chewing on my work email once she returned to the office... The call time on my iPhone and the email are a minute apart...

So I went down to the concierge and got a map to Fisherman's Warf. I stopped to photograph a few sculptures, until my camera started acting the fool.

Finally made my trolley wait area, but the thing was taking forever, and it was freezing cold. So I grabbed some Taco Bell and headed back to my room. No lonesome San Fran story of adventure to tell.

But I'll say that my trip was worth it. I had the best crab cakes and salmon I had ever had. I got to sleep in a bed by myself for once. No limbs wrapped completely around my body. No snoring in my ear... I didn't wake up in an armpit... I didn't trip over a size 12 tennis shoe just thrown randomly in the hallway on my way to the bathroom... And I got to sleep in the most comfortable bed in the world. I slept curled up across the foot under a light blanket, with the balcony doors open and the heater on blast. And I'm going out to buy me a few of those neck pillows...

And ofcourse, just like the boss, my 9am flight was full... The flight after that one was full too. And it wasn't full just because I was in that comfortable bed still sleep. I didn't wake up to turn off the alarm, and closed the balconey doors and heavy curtains, and climb back in that bed with the comfortable neck pillow....

So now we're planning a more casual San Fran trip. I'm sure I'll have much more fun on the next. Oh, and I'm super sick now. It had to be the weather change. And walking around in all that cold, then returning to blazing hot temps.

And sorry this is sooo long. It was supposed to be like 3 posts throuhgout the past week, but I've been so medicated and what not. But I'm getting better. Hope you all enjoyed.

My Name

Well, as you can see, my name is Marleaux (pronounced Marlo) Nichelle. I'm named after Nichelle Nichols of Star Trek and Marlo Thomas of That Girl; two independent ladies of 70's TV. Though I'm not anal about it, I do usually need to correct the pronunciation of my name. If I didn't, I would be Marla, Margo or Michelle, for the rest of my life. Though for 6 months as I worked as a temp-to-perm at my current job, I was Margo. It wasn’t until I interviewed for a permanent position, that my boss saw that my name contained an L and not a G. I didn't care; I just wanted to be hired…