it was terrible

it turns out he met them on thursday.
and they do not like him.
it did not help that he blew. my. phone. up. this weekend. my mama says it makes him look clingy. but she also fussed when i was the one doing all the calling. i can't win, apparently.
it did not help that my father missed part of game 7 (LAKERS AWW YEAH *ahem*) to talk to him--if they had lost, heaven help the poor boy, i'd never see him alive again.
it did not help that he is going to devry.
it sure didn't help that he talks over-much when he's nervous.
it was amusing, but unhelpful that his eyes were red, and as soon as he said "man, they're gonna think i smoke," my mama said "why are your eyes red? do you smoke?"
all in all, i don't think this will last long.
:(

oh. so. you're my boyfriend now? thanks for letting me know.

um, am i the only person who never knows anything?

i didn't know my family was going to houston until a few days before they were gone.

i didn't know i was getting a car until i walked outside and saw it. i had my suspicions of course, but i thought they were unfounded.

so discovering that i am dating someone is new to me, but i rolls with the punches.

well, speaking of punches, homie is kinda...rough-ish.

not like hitting me, or anything, 'cause i'd jack him up, but just...not gentle?

but i'm tryna do this the right way (for once) and he will be meeting my mama.

this will end terribly, i just know it.

deren already said she was coming up with a list of questions to ask.

this morning my mama was like:

"is he a baggy-pants wearing dude?"

"slightly, mother."

"hmm. grandma says pull'em up. is he an afro, braid wearing brother?"

"no, mother. his hair is like derek's, a taper fade."

"hmm. does he have gold teeth?"

"NOO, mother."

*here comes deren, busting in the conversation.*

"what about silver?"

"no."

"what about diamond-encrusted?"

"NO."

"...platinum?"

my mother started laughing, and high-fived her, saying that deren asked the hard-hitting questions that she couldn't think of.

she said he has to come to church with us.

meaning allllll the church family is going to see him holding my hand (ol' pda lookin'...) and i will be straight harassed.

"who's thiiiis, deven?"

"nobody...i mean...somebody...man, can you get your sanctified side-hug from me and move along already?"

no good.

anyway, i'm going to six flags on friday! yay! pulling contest will recommence, with the addition of my cousin and deren's friends...and i will be successful.

ayy, i said he was my boyfriend.

i ain't say i was his girlfriend.

:D

shh. i probably won't even do it. dang my guilty conscience.

yeah, yeah, i know.

i said i'd post...like 2 weeks ago.
i had stuff to do. dangit.
today is my last of spanish, thank god.
and then it all begins anew on monday. no rest for the wicked.
but anyway.
i said i'd tell how i got locked out the house. i also have two COUNT 'EM two additional stories featuring my dog as the antagonist.

"Locked Out"
so. the yardman (francisco) was cutting the lawn, and i was supposed to pay him. i woke up, aided by the phone vibrating under my head and the lawnmower right outside my window. my mother, prior to leaving, begged me to do something about my hair so i didn't scare francisco (who is like 65) to death by my heatmeiser bedhead. so i hop in the shower. as i'm getting out and applying lotion, i hear the doorbell. so, i figure, i'm just paying him, i can come back and get fully dressed in a minute. i threw a tank top and some sweats on.

first crucial mistake: i neglected underwear.

so i go to the door, pay him, and he says he has to do the back, so can i get lefty the black lab?
i go out the garage, leave the door cracked because we have a fancy lock with a keypad now, that i did not know the code to. i wrangle the dog, stick him in the garage, and then:

my second crucial mistake: i close the door so lefty can't get in the house.

but now, neither can i.
i go to open the door, and i cannot. the garage is closed and it is sweltering. i am sweating my lotion off, my dog is looking at me crazy while i am crying, punching numbers in and beating on the door like someone will let me in.
inventory: no keys, no phone, no draws, one dog.
great.
so i go to throw myself upon the mercy of my neighbors. i spot another yardman and put my pitiful face on. having procured his phone, i call my mother and father frantically. they will laugh about this later. finally reaching my father and getting the code, i am then cussed out by my neighbor, because i couldn't leave lefty in the garage, the final crucial mistake. he seems to think lefty and fool dog are one and the same. i restrain an impulse to cuss back, make it back to my house, punch in the code, put lefty in the back, and take another shower.

"Flashing Lig--Neighbors"
so, i wake up, or am woken up, rather. it's cleaning time. so i'm looking around the house, and i spot some recycling. so i take it out. mind you, i just woke up. hair looks crazy. i'm wearing a tank top and rolled up boxers. so of course my neighbors is outside mowing his lawn. and my dog has escaped. i wrassle him back in and try to throw the recycling way in a dignified manner, but it's hard to be dignified when your thighs are exposed up the the hip. *deren told me my legs remind her of aliens. isn't she the best? -_- * i go back to my house (i left the door open this time) and leave my pride with the recycling. maybe an hour later, i hear a whuffling noise outside my window. i go to look, real cautious like in case someone's tryna come steal me (or worse, the stereos) and it's lefty.
great.
so i go put him back out, fussing the whole way while he grins at me (dogs can grin. and they often do so salaciously) like "aww, you're just joking with me, you know you LOOOOOVE you some me." so i go to the fence, and someone has moved the stone we use to keep him from escaping.
mind you, the FIRST TIME i put him back, i moved that stone.
i think he knows how to get out. and he's coming for me, because a) i'm the only one at home and b) i'm the only one he can punk.

dang dog.

apuntes para mi cuaderno

i think i'm actually supposed to learn spanish this time, much to my dismay.

but anyway, i retro-blogged (journaled for the non-luddite set) my past few days' experience...let me share some snippets of comedic gold (gold, jerry! gold!):

(5/17/10)

"HE'S SPEAKING SPANISH AT ME OMG."

"I paid $3 to park for this?"

"My $3 smelled of straight ass, lending yet more credibility to my theory that dollar bills in all denominations must be considered, since they were printed, to have been run through a stripper's ass crack at least once."

"I was accosted by a homeless man. I would've offered him my hot tamales, but...I like hot tamales. a lot. I'd get into a big white van if the creepy man inside it was offering me hot tamales."

i'll put my sad sad story of being locked out of my house with no keys, no phone, and no draws on (had my dog though) up later, i gotta go get deren from the salon so she can find bus stop boy and they can fall in love.

six flags con mis hermanitos

a long-standing tradition we have is to hold a pulling contest every time we go to six flags. well, long-standing after we'd rode all the rides a million times and realized the real fun to be had was while waiting in the line near somebody fine.

but anyway, i took derek and deren to six flags for deren's 14th birthday yesterday. she's growing up so fast *tear* i remember being taller than her...once upon a time...

derek won, to my chagrin.

only by two numbers, but still, me and deren had slim pickings. everybody was too old or too young or too unattractive (even in the interest of winning, i still have--some--standards) or too fine which meant they had a girl on they arm.

i'm really starting to resent girls with boyfriends now.

i know now why deren haaaaaaated for me to talk about him...it's annoying AS HECK. every sentence out one's mouth turns into something about their significant other.

plus i was always smiling and laughing and not talking in my regular voice (they made fun of me for dayyyys after they caught me on the phone . like i'm going to talk to somebody i'm sexually attracted to the same way i talk to my brother and sister, who i want to beat more often than not? yeah, right. y'all need to gon' on some place and leave me alone) and not my usual pessimistic scowling self.

but i'ma ask someone out today. i think he digs me (who wouldn't? *conceited*), but i don't want to be rejected. but worse thing he can say is no, right? and if i ask him out, 'cause i had nothing else to do, and he says no, my plans haven't changed. so yeah, i'ma do it.

six flags was fun, anyway. me and deren rode on batman, and all of us rode the log ride--they made me ride in front and my jeans got wet--and the antique cars--deren drove--and conquistador--derek and deren went again while i drank my milkshake, which brought all the bees to my bench and they were like "gimme some of that milkshake or we'll sting you" and i was like "AWW HECK NAW" and moved. they wouldn't let me ride the sombrero or the tea cups though, and i refused to stand in line for anything really big, like titan or superman.

derek won me and deren frogs (i wanted the rasta banana soooooo bad), bought himself another airbrushed hat, and managed to win a freaking guitar. and now the vato is going to be trying to learn to play the damned thing all this summer so he can sing love ballads to the mexican girls ("quiero a tiiiiiiii, mi amor...volverrrrrrrrr..."). lucky me. if he irritates me, on god and everything, i'll cut those strings. wait. will it cut me if it's a steel string?

i took like 40 pictures, which i will try to upload on facebook (the one up there is the only one i could get to work on deren's sloooooooower-than-molasses-laptop, i'll try later.) i also made deren take my picture with scooby and scrappy (scooby molested my face and took my glasses off. he also patted my head. o.O), the green lantern (who needs to get a codpiece or sum'n, 'cause he was NOT impressive), and mr. six. deren took pictures with the joker, and then lex luthor popped up from nowhere behind me and scared me very badly.

and then i dropped deren off at studio movie grill so she could see just wright without me (-_-) with our grandmother. *big mouth bass is in the pond, over.*

and came home. *salmon is swimming back upstream, do you copy?*

what i want...

for him to love my hair and to play with my curls while they're wet.
for him to not mind my terrible singing and to appreciate my serenades.
for him to get things i can't reach off high shelves for me without calling me shorty.
to be his wifey.
to be called late at night so we could talk about everything even though we both were tired.
i want him to understand my sarcasm.
i want him to listen to my babble.
to cook for him.
to edit his papers and get rewarded with a kiss.
to have him read mine and critique them for me.
to go on long walks with no particular purpose in mind.
to have his hoodies that smell like his cologne.

to stop being a dang simp. smh.
my bad, y'all.

homie and bob marley

so we have mad boys who live on my street.
if not for my love of college-aged men, almost all of them could get it, reaaaal talk.
they all dark chocolate skinned and they all fine.
but they also are all ghetto as all get out.
and if you know me, i do not do ghetto well.
i've tried, i really have.
but my ignorance level only goes so high.
i can only speak ebonics for so long before my brain starts to hurt.
plus my mother is starting to issue demerits for slang.
and i have no money, yo.
*demerit*
i am impecunious at this current point in time.
but anyway, the two main ones are...well, i don't know their names.
me and deren named them homie ('cause he looks like a homie) and his friend is bob marley. he used to have twists, but he cut them off, but the name's stuck now.
so they stare me down every time they see me. maybe because when i first got a car (RIP MR. CAR!) i was kinda not seriously hypothetically tryna run them down...they shoulda got out the street, shoot. always wanna play the game craze that's sweeping the nation: throw the ball across the street at each other. i don't see the appeal.
when you see a civic and a be-afro'd driver coming down the road, MOVE. GET OUT THE WAY.
as deren has said, i am crazy and i will hit a kid. and not look back to see what i hit. just drive away like "was that a bump? huh."
but i finally talked to homie the other day. i wish deren had been there, 'cause we had money that they didn't know how to talk.
so i'm just like: why y'all mean mug me?
homie: huh?
me: whyyy do y'all mean mug me?
homie: you always staring.
i ain't have a rebuttal to that.
it's true.
*shamefaced*
ah well.