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