They broke up...

...I fell asleep in his arms for the 10th night in a row last night and now I'm sitting here watching him install the AC that he insisted we had to get for the living room.



Oops...

" I keep you happy"

Yesterday I was on the phone chatting it up with my fave friend*, "T” about Obama and were trying to decide if I should end it all with him or not. That morning he’d driven me to work and he was telling me how his “baby moms” (he never calls her his girl around me. As if that somehow makes me forget that I know that's what she is) had went thru his pockets a few weeks ago and found something in his pocket that she didn’t want in the house. We, he’d told me because it pertained to the topic we were discussing, so he wasn’t just talking about her to be talking about her. Nonetheless, all I could keep thinking is. ‘Why weren’t your pants on?”. That right there just let’s me know for certain that shit has gone too far.

‘T” and I decided that I would just tell him not to bring her up around me a gain at all, and then I’ll just be cool with shit as it is. I really can’t complain everything’s kosher, two thumbs up, Ebert and Roeper**. I’ll just enjoy it for now and chill the fuck out.

He stayed over last night and this morning we were sitting around talking and watching tv before work and we were talking about an event that I’m going to this weekend. He asked me if I was taking a date with this hurt look on his face and I told him no. He said he’d want to go with me if I asked him but that he would have to double check his schedule and make sure he wouldn’t have his daughter. When he said that, I went into my usual “I-didn’t-sign-on-for-this-shit” speech that I give him whenever he can’t do what I want him too (which isn’t too often, but he and I agree that I deserve to bitch when I want since he gets to live a double life-drama free)

But while we were talking, he said something so simple, yet dead-on that made me really sit back, think, and shut the fuck up***: “I keep you happy” . And he does. I see him enough so that I don’t feel neglected (not since his week-long hiatus and the subsequent presentation of my “You-know-I-don’t-play,-I’ll-drop-off-the-face-of-the -Earth-on-your-ass-if-you-start-acting-fucked-up” speech). But we also give each other enough space so that when we do see each other, we’re usually missing one another’s company so much that things are usually very…mushy when get in the same room.

I can totally co-sign that he makes me happy. And I have decided, that’s more than enough for me.

\

The ways in which the universe works is amazing. This was the first song that came on went I opened up Pandora this morning:

*I’ve stopped calling her my best friend b/c that is misleading. She kinda sucks as a friend sometimes but I love her and she is my FAVORITE friend as I prefer her company of almost anyone else’s.
**Drake- "Over"
***I don't usually do this- EVER lol

Uh Oh.....

It may already be too late.....

Boo'd up for the Weekend Pt 3 of 3

SUNDAY

I'm immediately agitated as I rolled over and feel air where "Rocky" should be in the morning. I'm cursing him for ruining my sleep as I hear what would appear to be someone scrambling what I assume is eggs in the kitchen. The sizzling of something on the stovetop lets me know that I haven't been completely abandoned. My baby was making me BREAKFAST! I stumble into the kitchen to lay my head on his massive chest and breathe him in. He scolds me for getting out of bed but wraps his arms around me and kisses my forehead.

TLC2, the weekend early-bird had already woken me up two hrs prior for his breakfast of french toast sticks. So, with nothing else to do, I climbed back into bed, and waited for breakfast to be ready. I watched "The Fabulous Life of "Paris Britney Lohan" " on VH1 until "Rocky" walked in with steak–n-cheese omelet and pepsi in hand. I ate and watched the show, smiling at the knowledge that all the money, baubles and $200/1oz jars of face cream in the world couldn't buy the happiness that I was feeling at the moment.

We finished eating and "Rocky" went to get dressed for church. I have been slacking in my classes damn near all semester and Sunday was my cram day. He left out and I showered and put in my "Study Enigma" clothes: shorts and tank top.

I set TLC2 up with Spiderman 3 and Go-gurt in his room and cracked open my Calculus book so that I could take my exam online. I spent the next four hours sucked in the world of Calculus, Verizon, Tila Tequila and The Hills. (I realized that I had no virus protection on my computer and wanted to order some. Unfortunately, none of the idiot, human or computer could help me)

Two hours into my work, I started dinner – pot roast, roasted potatoes and corn on the cob. "Rocky" called me from his mom's house to check in and make sure I was doing what I my work and gave me kudos for finding a way to fix a static problem we'd been having with the phone.

I watched my recorded episodes of "The Real Housewives of Orange County" as I folded the clothes from the previous day.

"Rocky" called again a few hours later from his cousin's house just as I was finishing eating dinner.

Rocky: "Babe, remember that night we were going back and forth with the riddles?

Me: "Uh huh . . ."

Rocky: "What's that one you told me that I liked?"

Me: "The one about the rabbit? What's invisible and smells like carrots, that one?

Rocky: "No, I don't think that's it."

Me: "The one about girls who work at Hooters?"

Rocky: "Nah, My cousin just told me that one, it was another one you'd said."

Me: (laughing at the mental image of these grown as men telling each other these silly as jokes/riddles): "I don't know hun."

Rocky: "Alright, don't worry about it. I'll be there in a little while."

Me and TLC2 try to watch the rest of Daddy Day Care, but decide we don't have or want to. He escapes to his room to watch Spiderman for the 89th time that day and I make chocolate chip cookie dough for later. (Usually I just buy the ready-made Pilsbury ones, but with the Betty Crocker "just add " one, I can take some of them damned chocolate chips out.

"Rocky" comes in, TLC2 takes a bath, we read two Spiderman books (he's obsessed I tell you) and I put TLC2 to bed and jump in the shower.

I bake the cookies and "Rocky" and I eat them as we watch Family Guy.

He gets up get us a cookie refill and asks if TLC2 had any cookies. I tell him "No, because he didn't finish his dinner." I turn the volume on the tv down as I hear TLC2's door squeak. Minutes later, "Rocky" comes into the bedroom looking guilty.

Me: "You gave him a damned cookie, didn't you?"

"Rocky": Huh? Nah, babe. . why you say that???"

Me (getting up to go check myself):" Cause I know you"

Sure enough, I look in on TLC2 and he's munching away on a cookie

I come back in the room shaking my head, knowing my son and what will happen next.

Sure enough, five seconds later, in walks TLC2 looking for his cookie pusher for his next fix.

"Rocky" tells TLC2 that he gets no more snacks because he didn't eat all his food. TLC2 concedes, but I know the battle will finish tomorrow. "Rocky" wins (for now.)

"Rocky" and I spread out on the bed for a few minutes before I suggest we play "I declare War". I know I have to work tomorrow but I try to prolong sleep for as much time as possible. He kicks my ass in record time and we give up on cards for the night. He tells me I need a Scrabble dictionary so we can play that. He knows I don't have one, but is aware that my mom does.

Him (reaching for the phone): "You need to call your Moms"

Me (bluffing): "Call her yourself. . .(201)­­___-____

He dials the numbers, asks for her and proceeds to have an entire convo. I ignore it for the most part, just knowing that he did not really call my mother, who has a clue, but no proof that I'm actually with someone seeing as how I've been refusing to confirm or deny any rumors concerning such that have been going around my family for weeks. Also whom he's met only once or twice (FIVE YRS AGO) and wouldn't know him from Bob down the block.

Ha ha, the jokes on me, he DID call her.

She and I speak briefly as I hear my Step-dad in the background with his Barry White-voice and laugh to match. "Tell him he gotta do more than just call the mother. We wanna know he treating our baby alright!"

(This sentence in itself is disturbing seeing as how my stepfather has never refered to me as "our" anything. Growing up it was always, "Wilma, your daughter down there trying to burn the kitchen down" or "Wilma your child and her friends in there tearing up the living room." But never, EVAH, has it been "our baby". Not that my step pops doesn't love me/us. But he's just not that warm, fuzzy, family type. Or at least he wasn't. That is, until TLC2 was born, then he started getting all mushy and shit. . . I guess preemies have a way of doing that to people. But I digress. . .)

Me and Mother hang up and I look at "Rocky" in (pleasant) shock. I do not believe he really called her. Guess now I've got to share my secret. Not like I'd been hiding him. It's more like protecting everyone. My family gets attached quickly and shit doesn't always end pretty with me and guys. I'm still mad that my sister asked my HS sweetheart to church years after he and I had separated on bad terms.

They just don't know how to let go like I do.

I'd been planning on bringing him to "family" Christmas anyway . . . from the sound of my mother's voice, now I don't really have a choice but to. Guess it's time to stop being stingy and share my man with my family.

We lay down again and he gets a comb and combs my wild hair gently.

Him: "When you gonna braid your hair, Babe? In the morning?

(Every few months I give MY hair a rest from the weaves, braids and perms and live by half-wigs for a few weeks as I am now. I cornrow my thick-only-manageable-after-hours-of-attention-a-few-inches-passed-my-shoulders-lengthed hair throughout the week and take cornrows out during the weekend. Since it was Sunday night and my hair was unbraided "Rocky" was concerned.)

Me (eyes closed): "Yep"

"Rocky" (sitting up): You already be running late in the mornings. Get up.

I comply and sit up to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, comb in hand, waiting for me to take my seat on the floor between his legs.

I get a pillow to sit on and lay my head on his knee as he parts and cornrows my hair.

When he was finished, I went to sleep and dreamt about the sun's reflection on the water

Damn, I miss feeling like I did in December 2007....

Boo'd up for the Weekened Pt 2 of 3 (Myspace throwback)

ENIGMA'S NOTE: remember...this is from December of 2007...I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT OBAMA

SATURDAY

TLC2, the weekend early bird, woke me up at 9ish looking for breakfast. After getting him settled with Lucky Charms and Nickelodeon, I crawled back into "Rocky's" nook.

"It's your turn" he mumbled, trying to protect me from his ferocious morning breath. "Is nooooot", I sing, not wanting to do anything by stay where I was.

But, we had to eat.

He suggests eggs, grits, corned beef hash, sausages, pancakes. . I'm not making no damn pancakes and you gotta make the grits and toast. Fine . . . I had egg, hash and sausage duty and he was the designated grit-maker.

I put the maple and honey flavored sausage in the oven as he rolled a chair into the kitchen. He started the grits as I cleaned out the fridge. Would you believe I still had turkey in there from my stint as hostess on Thanksgiving???????

My kitchen window faces the backyards of two of my neighbors. Both houses have dogs – the house closest to me has two pits, One white, a girl, one tan, a boy. The house on the other side of that one has one brown dog, not sure of the breed, but he's crippled with a short hind leg. About a week ago I adopted them. They were outside howling and seeing as I never see either neighbor caring for them let alone a dish where food/drink should be, I took it upon myself to make the howling stop. (me on the phone to "Rocky" that first day. . . "Babe . . . can dogs have ham???") And so began my title as foster owner to three dogs.

As I went to throw one of the leftover turkey legs to the dogs closest to us, "Rocky" informed me that "dogs enjoy hot food too, babe". So I put both drumsticks in the microwave. I threw one to the tan pit next door. . I don't know where the white one was, hopefully she's ok, and stepped aside as "Rocky' with his ability to throw like a boy, threw one to the brown, crippled one farthest away. I was able to also give them a Tupperware bowl filled with leftovers that I had forgotten to take to work with me for lunch from the previous week - baked pork chops, yellow rice and green beans. I threw the cut up chops to them as "Rocky" put the rice and vegetable in a plastic bag and threw it over to them. "They gonna fuck that bag up trying to get to that food.", he said.

Once we were done cleaning, feeding and cooking, we settle in to eat our meal and watch "Slow Burn", a movie the lady at "The Spot" had assured me was "good as hell". ( it was aiight . . .)

About an hour into the movie, my sister called to swindle me into watching my nephews for a few hours. I guess so?

She dropped them off about twenty minutes later and TLC2 was in 7th heaven.

We finished watching the movie and "Rocky" went to get dressed. His friends and family will say that I've been holding him hostage for the past few weeks, but I just call it us taking our time getting reacquainted. (we met about five years ago and had lost contact here and there). Either way, I knew I had to stop being selfish and let him go for the day to show his face around town so people would know he was ok.

I drift off into an 'itis* slumber as he goes about getting dressed. I'm awakened a short time later as TLC2 and my youngest nephew (3 yrs. old) burst into my room. Apparently, "Rocky" had made them popcorn and DJ, the oldest (7 yrs) had hogged it and ate the last few kernels. "Rocky" intercepted and handled the "crisis" as I tried my damndest to drift back into my slumber. No such luck. Just as I close my eyes, the house phone rings. It's "Rocky's" mom. I get up and bring the phone into the living room where he's sitting at the computer. So much for sleeping.

My sister had guaranteed me a few hours to myself once she was done with her errands, so I figured I'd get some laundry done while she took the boys bowling later that day. "Rocky" and I watch the boob tube in the bedroom as I start sorting mine and TLC2's dirty clothes. Another crisis has arisen amongst the terrible threesome.

TLC2: "Mommy, DJ's eating his boogers"

Me: "What do you want me to do, hun, they're his boogers. He doesn't have to share them if he doesn't want to. You can eat your own boogers if you like."

TLC2 walks away looking as if he's had an epiphany. I just know he was thinking, "All this time you mean I coulda been eating my boogers?????." I know if was wrong, by I had a belly full of grits and my mind had shut down an hour prior. Sue me.

Rocky: (shakes hi shead at me and laughs then calls our to my son): TLC2, if you eat your boogers, you're going to grow up and look like a booger and no one will play with you.

Problem solved. All booger eating stops.

Within an hour's time, both "Rocky" and the boys bounce, leaving me to either put up and go to the laundry or shut up and get back in the bed... I grab my sweats, bag up the clothes and the cart and head for the laundromat down the block.

I spend the rest of the night washing, drying and stuffing in the bag (cause ya'll know I don't fold shit until I get back home). TLC2 is dropped off at about 9. He and I watch Daddy Day Camp until his little snores let me know I've been abandoned to watch that crap alone. I put him to bed, eat a drumstick (the ice cream cone), watch "Ugly Betty" and talk to "Rocky" on the walkie-talkie here and there until I dose off. "Rocky" rings the bell at 2-ish I let him in, we snuggle in. Then it's Sunday.

* Ever get the overwhelming urge to sleep after you've eaten a big meal??? That's the "itis!

Boo'd up for the weekend Pt 1 of 3 (A Myspace throwback)

Enigma's Note: This was written in December of 2007 for Myspace. Most of you will remember "Rocky" from my "To Catch a Cheater" posts. I thought about this series after reading Suga's article on black woman and their relationship requirements. This blog and the two that follow chronicles one of mine and "Rocky's" first weekends together from Friday-Saturday. Enjoy!

After spending most of Friday bored shitless at work, I was anxious to get the fuck outta dodge come 5pm SHARP.

I arrived at TLC2's (my son) school at 5:15 exactly with 15 minutes to spare to speak with Sister Such-n-Such about the school's upcoming Christmas show before the after school teachers kicked my baby out of class.

After securing my duties as a newbie stage mom, I grabbed the munchkin and we jetted to the grocery store to rack up on supplies for the weekend. I had been planning my weekend all day and I had big plans in store for us. I'd had visions of movies and comforters bouncing in my head all day, and the only thing I needed to make it come to light was to make sure we didn't run out of juice, tissue and food. I could do that.

As we walked towards the direction of the store and home, "Rocky", my boyfriend (yes, I said boyfriend . . . let's not make a big deal of it though, K?) called me on my cell. I informed him of my planned mission to search for sustenance and gave him my ETA (estimated time of arrival). Once he and I hung up, I spent the rest of the walk explaining to TLC2 the difference between pedestrians and drivers and why Santa Clause sleeps during the day (that particular convo was actually a continuation of one we'd had that morning. He asked me why the inflatable black Santa that was on our neighbors' front lawn was never fully blown up during the day and only at nighttime. I told him it's because Santa sleeps during the day so that he can make toys and deliver them to the kiddies at night. Of course all of this was for naught as at the end of the conversation, TLC, in all his infinite wisdom looked up at me and said, "But it's really all just pretend, right Mommy?") I love that 'lil boy!

Finally we get to the store and, as I'd expected, it was packed with people. One of the few things I love about living in the hood is this particular store. The grocery store itself is huge and reasonable priced, but the best part of it is the many little stores that surround it. There's a bank, a furniture store, a florist and a we-got-it-all store that sells everything from "LV" bags to the latest hood literature and . . .the greatest and hoodest of them all. . .the "Spot". That is the name that I have given to the little room located at the entrance of the grocery store. In there you can get the latest movie (ones that have come out and those not yet even in theaters, the latest cd's (mixed, club, R&B, you name it) and . . get this. .. coats, retro Jordans and Timbs too. Yep, gotta love the hood!

After copping us Spiderman 3, Daddy Day Camp and Slow Burn, TLC2 and I head in to get the rest of our provisions.

One of the things I've noticed about being in new relationships is all of the oldies that start calling once word is out that you're taken. Usually I just ignore the calls until they get the hint and lose my number. But, being 25 for the second year in a row, I'm trying to display some maturity. So, this time around, when the old guys started sniffing around and calling out of the blue, I took the calls and told them straight up that I was no longer on the market.

One guy in particular to that news exceptionally hard. Apparently he'd had big plans for US, unbeknownst to me and me having a man after being single for a year and some change had clearly fucked up his plans (though I hadn't heard from him in months and had only known him for 9 days before he got locked up for 9 months). Apparently me ignoring his calls through out that entire time had only convinced him even further that we belonged together. (huh?) But I digress. . .

Anyway, who should we see as we rounded the corner onto the pancake aisle, but the jokah in question . . . who proceeded to follow us around the damn store. You have got to be kidding me! So now as I shop, not only do I have to keep and eye on TLC2's wild ass (who buy the way often has to be reminded that we have to pay for stuff before we open them) but I have to try to dip and dodge this fool too. After professing his undying love for me and letting me know how special I will always be to him and how I broke his heart by having a man, he finally vanished and left me to finish my shopping.

Once at checkout I realized that I gone a bit overboard. I had only intended to get a few things but I was leaving out with at least 3 heavy bags worth of stuff. Unfortunately I had already assured "Rocky" that I'd be ok getting home, so he would no doubt be ass deep in cleaning up the mess TLC2 and I had made earlier in the day looking for his homework book. Plus, if I called him to come meet me, I'd have to hear a big, stupid speech about how I'm not Superwoman and I need to learn that I don't have to do everything myself anymore. . yada, yada, yada. I ain't wanna hear that shit, so

I put on my gloves and made it happen.

As TLC2 and I walked up the block, who is walking towards us but "Rocky". He knows me so well . . . he just looked at me with a smirk as I relinquished the bags over to him. TLC2 grabbed each of our hands and we made our way to the house.

I stepped into a house that was cleaned form top to bottom smelling like Indian fruit incense. As TLC2 got settled in, I showered my job away and put on my "weekend Enigma" uniform, his shirt. I lay in his arms as we debated on dinner. Chinese? Nope, had it for lunch (me). Pizza? Nope, not in the mood for it (him). "You know, you could always walk to Barshay's for some burgers. . . (me batting eyelashes and stroking his back. Him, not falling for it. Fuck it, will you make me a grilled cheese? Yep, problem solved.

I watched my recorded episode of the latest "Grey's Anatomy" as "Rocky" hooked up grilled cheese for us and hotdogs for TLC2. Loving my new situation, I smiled as he bought me my first one. He preferred cooking in the pan that could only hold one sandwich at a time. Since I wanted two, he bought me the first one as soon as it was ready, rather then both at a time so that they wouldn't be cold.

Once we were done eating, TLC2 shut his door and entered the world of a 5 year old and we played cards, "2000" to be specific. He'd taught me to play less than a week ago, but I had gotten good at whooping his ass. Later we snacked on York Peppermint Pattie Klondike bars and talked and laughed for hours about nothing specific and everything in particular. I laughed and snuggled until I was waking up and it was Saturday morning.

Because know-it-alls need advice sometimes too....

Hey folks-

A few weeks ago I was feeling some type of way about my best friend, "T" and trying to figure out if perhaps our friendship had run it's course. In my circle, I'm usually the one my friends come to for advice and often times I find that I have noone to go to when I need help finding answers. THANK GOD FOR THE INTERNET. I've truly met some of the most amazing, intelligent people online and one of them just happens to have a brand new site up and running where she doles out her sage advice. I sent her an email describing my dilemma and she gave some really great advice. Check it out.

Oh, Obama..... *sigh*

Nothing too new to update other than the fact that Obama still has me all kinds of confustrated.

I've been telling my homie that I need an interventon to help get me off this nigga because things are just getting worse better? worse. Not that anything bad has happened, in fact, it's just the opposite. Like him staying the night at my house at least two nights week now. Or that the sex has somehow gotten even better (I think that's due to a feeling or two creeping in, hence the worse/better confusion). Not only that but it would appear that he talks about me- ALOT to the people around him. Like last night he called his sister to remind her that the Cavs were playing and I heard him tell her that he was at my house. Not "this chick's house" or "my people's house"- he said my name and she knew exactly who he was talking about. Now even though I've met her before, it was ONE time MONTHS ago and I don't even remember her name. In fact, I don't recall us being properly introduced at all with names and stuff...

Anywho...not only did she know exactly who I was when he said my name, but she asked when I was having my homewarming party- yea, I haven't seen or spoken to her since I moved and especially not about a housewarming that I haven't even finalized plans for yet, but I have spoken to Obama about it....

We headed out to pick up some food after the game and I told him to drive because I was intoxicated. He noticed the car shaking a lil while he was driving and told me how he has a bunch of friends that are mechanics and would have one of them check it out. First he calls his cousin (who used to work with my dad and dated my sister and actually drove me {along with my sister}3 hours away to start college a few years back) and told him that he needed to know what dude would charge him to do the work. I guess his cousin asked if the work was for Obama's car and he said no it's for Enigma. Then Obama laughed and blushed at whatever ole boy said and then handed me the phone. I'm thinking dude is gionna ask me about the car, but instead he says "What you doing to my lil cousin yo?" and laughed. I asked him what he meant and he told me Obama's been acting "weird" since he and I linked back up. After talking for a lil while I realized who the cousin was. He laughed even harder when he realized I was his ex's lil sister and said "Yea, now I know that nigga in trouble fuckin around wit you." (not in a bad way- more like he assumes good-good runs in my family and Obama stands no chance against the powers of the p----)

Anyway, my point is that shit is feeling very not sidepieceish and I'm scared. Yes, I said it, I'm scared. I want to stop myself for falling for this dude but it's getting very hard. Every since the last time he went ghost on me, he's been on his best behavior with me. In fact, while I'm at work right now, he's off getting my car fixed and will be picking me up later.

This isn't feeling so casual anymore (to me anyway) ... :-/

*Sigh*

I blame ya'll...yea all of you readers who saw this coming and didn't try to remind me that chicks suck at seperating heart from lady parts. You guys suck.

Ok, I'm sorry...that was mean. you guys actually rock...I suck...haha...speaking of which...I'd sent Obama a text yesterday that said "U suck" and his repsonse was "U suck better." Stupid, I know, but it had me giggling all day.

Another pointless blog...don't say I never did anything to make your Friday go by just a tad bit quicker, mmkay?

Tata for now..

Oh wait- one more thing-

The other day I'd just gotten off of work and was running in the store real quick to get a paper when this dude tried to holla. He looked cute enough and his aproach was good enough (very respectful... and he called me gorgeous and I'm kinda shallow) so I was gonna give him my number. That is until his boy got out the car and started making his way to us. First dude lurked around on the passenger side of my car (me and the dude tryna holla were standing near the driver's side) His boy slowly made his way around the car until he was standing right next to us. I had given dude all but the last two digits of my number when his dude says in a low voice "You like threesomes?" I looked at him, then back at his boy who was still waiting for the last two digits of my number and chalked dueces to them both. The hell????? Is that what's acceptable these days?? I could see if I was at the bar and heard this...but in mid afternoon, still in my work gear and not a drink in site nor a bar table to dance on and this is what dudes think is ok to say to a lady?? And dude tryna holla didn't even attempt to check his boy, if not to defend the honor of a lady then AT LEAST for the biggest cockblock of the century.

So yea, I'm a lesbian now. 

"Daddy"

Disclaimer: So...you ever have a point that you want to make, but you're not quite sure what that point is? Yea, well...keep that in mind when you read the post below. I'm at work, bored and listeing to the radio. Twista's song "Wetter"came on and I started writing. *shrugs* I don't know what my point is, nor does this blog have any kind of order or any real ending....like I said, I did it at work and I've been distracted. Nonetheless, I'm posting it. Why? Because. lol Seriously tho...depending on the comments, I may be able to find my point elaborate.*

***********************************************************

I know that from the title you probably thought this would be the blog I’ve been saying I’d write in honor of my father, but it is not (still not ready). My father’s name was/is LJ, not Daddy. In fact, the word “daddy” has never held any real significance in my life other than in a sexual manner.

Allow me to elaborate….

Unlike most of my friends, my parents were married when they had me. I lived with them both until they divorced when I was four years old. My (biological) “father” then decided to move to North Carolina to be closer to his family and demanded that my mother allow him to take me.**

I stayed in NC with my (biological) “father” for almost a year. When I returned, my mother had begun dating a new man, my father. My (biological) “father” and I had a sporadic visitation schedule up until I was around nine or so. After that, I didn’t see him again at all and he died when I was twelve. He was in my life (consistently) for all of five years….the first five years. Needless to say, my memories of him (or of what I addressed him as) are distant memories.

LJ is the man who raised, fed, and protected me throughout my life and from whom I learned what a man is supposed to be. However, he has never been my “Daddy”. That word means nothing to me. Hearing it conjures up flashbacks of hot, sweaty nights with my penis of the moment, not memories of my father pushing me on a swing or taking me on a Daddy/daughter date.

“Daddy” is whoever is laying the pipe the right way at the moment. *shrugs*

I know this is a concept that many of you can’t understand or relate to, and that’s fine. But just because YOU don’t understand or can’t relate to it does not mean that it is some sick, twisted concept. Words are just that…words. When I call a dude “Daddy”, I don’t visualize my father. Now, don’t get me wrong, if you are someone who grew up calling your father/father figure “Daddy” I can understand your *pause* at hearing it used in a sexual connotation.

* What say you? My dislcaimer for the blog that has no point has no point you say? Yesterday was 4/20...that's all I'm sayin...don't expect too much from me today. :)

*this is one of the main reasons I allowed my son to go away for the past year with his paternal grandparents. The time I spent getting to know that side of my family was priceless and definitely a once in a lifetime chance for me to interact with them.

What's that saying...?

Yesterday I was talking with my new "Chief" dealer, Shorty Doowop and I realized just how much of a sore thumb I am once I get to talking in an intimate setting. Ya see, I met Shorty Doowop thru a friend. When he finally met me face to face, I was always on my way to some bar or somewhere to party. Now, I'd seen him giving me "the look" but I ignored it. Yesterday, I stopped by his place to pick up a lil sumthin', sumthin' on my way home from work. he seemed surprised that I actually had a full ime job liek a real grown-up and he started to ask me questions. Well, through out the convo he learned the following:

-My parents were together for 25 yrs with not one major argument and only death separated them

-I have 3 older sisters, all of whom have CAREERS, husbands and if not a degree (or two in one instance) then they are currently in school.

-I have a college degree and fully intend on going for my Master's and ultimately my PHD.

- I currently am not working in my CAREER, however my current position makes me a vital part of my company as a whole and as the ONLY black woman (and only 1 of 2 blacks in general) my work is often scrutinized a lil more than the rest, but no one can deny that I'm damn good at what I do. Also, my boss must have some faith in my intelligence as i am responsible for reviewing legal docs from anywhere from 2- 20 pages long and when I'm done, I tell him to sign and he does- no questions asked.

-I volunteer in my community

-I have a proposal for a non-profit that I've been working on for a few years now

He was a lil shocked. He told me that when he first met me, he just figured I was another chick running the streets, laying on her ass all day and neglecting her kid(s). :/ I say all of that to say, you don't know anyone until you KNOW, them. Remember that.