#172

ok i'm back. i've been putting this off for eons. so much happened, i have no clue where to start. i'm about to seriously backtrack in no particular order.


midterms are done.


c - fashion merchandising and control
65 - fashion merchandising
68 - african art history

on my defense, these shits were hard as hell. for fashion merchandising, the highest grade was a 73. for african art history, professor wilson said everyone did poorly, but the essays were good. fashion merchandising and control, my calculations were completely off, since we weren't allowed to use a damn calculator. i'm waiting for one more grade. if i make it to class tomorrow, i'll get it.



a pic from the shoot with carl.





i'm shooting with patt thomas tomorrow afternoon. mikey's coming with me. this girl in class called us jack and karen. we definitely are. i heart him to pieces.


sick as always. it seems like it's always something with me, when it really is only one thing. millz said i need to stop using the word "flare" in reference to my fibro because it sounds like it's some crazy shit. that was hilarious. i miss her.



my dominique came home for a weekend! she met naquan, and she approves. yay! we went to stand [he paid for dinner before he had to meet his cousins] then we walked around union square, as usual.


halloween, my goodness. joan's face was blue and jason was lil' wayne with the painted face, drawn tattoos, and dreaded wig. nat's costume changed a million times, and by the time i got there, she was wearing gold panties? chris was supposed to be cat woman, but the country's in a recession. but i must say, the dasslers do go in.

zie's coming back to the east coast from holly-hood in a few weeks! i miss my little white chocolate cunt cake. she's been gone since march? april? something like that. she has a tattoo appointment: upside-down hearts on the back of her calves, so they're rightside-up when her legs are up in the air. my little fresh ass. i'm thinking about going with her. tattooing my ear? maybe?


thought: if you and a certain someone are "prospects" to one another, but to anyone on the outside looking in, you seem to be in a relationship, is that a just cause to proceed?

started planning dorian and clark's wedding. i have less than a year, and this is my first destination wedding. i also have to finish sasha's twenty first birthday party.

exhibit next weekend. super excited. mikey helped with my outfit =]

i love the poeple in my life. some of you guys, we only talk once in a blue, but i do appreciate your presence. muah . .

i don't have anything of much consequence to discuss, probably because i've procrastinated for so long. until next time . . .

#22

so much shit went down. dominique and i saw step brothers [your voice sounds like fergie and jesus], i started working at the adidas performance store, i went to one of the infamous basketball games the dassler boys participate in at chelsea piers, danny made an attempt to find Robert, i did my weave, roxanne made mommy buy a new dress, right before she called off the wedding, i invited like 90 people to a wedding reception turned going away party, and i got my nails wrapped, a pedicure, and my eyebrows done—finally. now for the break down . . .

step brothers was absolutely hilarious. sick and twisted humor is always amusing to me. dominique and i were cracking up like retards. we tend to quote movies for days after we see it. earlier that day, i technically pimped her to some 18 year old [in my defense, i he was a cute, mature looking 18 year old. how was i really supposed to know he was still in high school?]

performance is boring as hell. we do retarded shit to entertain us [shucking and jiving, according to greg] i ended up staying for an extra hour and a half on sunday, just because greg asked me to. he bought me coffee after work, then we hung out at the chelsea piers basketball court. turns out, every sunday and wednesday, the guys play after work. they’re usually there past midnight. for a first timer, it was pretty exciting. pop and some other dude kept talking shit; i swore someone was getting snuffed by the end of the night. well, my assumption was correct—but it wasn’t with pop—it was aussie and some other dude. i don’t remember who swung first, but tall, lanky ass brian tried to tap dude [yes, i said dude, with the illest hood thought] in the back of his head. had he not missed, he could’ve killed him—according to flop and dion. and that’s when greg flung me out the way and ran to jump in, in case anyone else tried to. when everything calmed down, he came back to sit with me and told me to walk out if they started fighting again. that basically put a damper on the rest of the night, since the other guys left us dasslers at the court. i hopped in dion’s car with flop and two other guys and hitched a ride into brooklyn.

yesterday at work, danny texted me on some “where’s tizz” type business. seriously? i’ve never had danny text me to find robert. i don’t even want to speak on this; that’s just how upset i am. today’s danny’s birthday. after i wished him a happy one, i said: “sudden thought; if your cousin doesn’t hit you up for your bday, he's just proving how much of a truly fucked up individual he is . . .” danny definitely agreed with me. as predictable as robert is, i’m thinking that is exactly what happened. i’ll definitely update on that later.

i did my weave when i got home after work. i’m hawt. then we went to lohman’s to get mommy a new dress because roxanne didn’t like the one she bought from macy’s. about an hour or two after we got home, roxy came into the room to tell me and naica that the wedding’s off. they called it off once before, but this time, it’s sticking. it’s something about his church—which i’m totally not understanding—but that’s the cause of this whole thing. maybe this is just the season for break-ups. so this morning, roxy comes into my room to tell me to invite all my friends because we’re still having a party—her fare well party—since she’s already paid for the catering hall, photographer, dj, and florist, and can’t get her money back. so while i was getting my pedicure, i made some calls, did some texting, and invited whoever i could think of. this should be amusing. [expect an update on this by sunday.]

after the beauty treatments and picking up my dress from korin [thanks for the alterations] we drove to valley stream to return whatever we could from the wedding to walmart, then target. naica came along for the ride. we ended up at the good ol’ target pizza hut. i forced myself to eat a personal pizza, and i was full after eating half; i pushed myself to eat a third slice, which definitely made me sick. i watched her as she was putting away bread sticks and sausage pizza. i just had to ask: “where are you putting all of that?” what came out of her mouth next was one of the most offensive things i’ve ever heard in my life: ". . . i'm not striving for anorexia . . . because of dumb bitches like you, little girls are sticking their fingers down their throats . . ." all i could say was “more power to ‘em, if that’s what they do,” and i left it at that. regardless of what i may do, saying something like that is still not cool.

so now, i’m sitting in my bed, upset, offended, and nauseated. that’s enough blogging for now.

#17

gucci glasses on. blah blah blah. i spent the day in the city with my cousins. yes, i was supposed to be with ames, kay, and trav—yes, kay was bringing trav—but ames promised her guy friend she’d hang out with him, and kay and trav, having no phones, never showed up? ehh . . . so i was with the fam: my older cousin, candice, her daughter, chevon, and chevon’s friend, danee. we went to my job to get my check, and chevon and danee copped some kicks, then i bought this really cute mini dress from forever 21 for the reception. we walked around soho some more, i cursed some lady out in the guess store for cutting the line—so out of my character—and danee got a dress for some sweet sixteen she’ll be attending on sunday. from soho, we ended up in the west village at marc jacobs, my safe haven. robert has me so upset; i bought another pair of flip flops and a bute bubble ring. [do understand that the amount of money that i deserve to have spent on me, his ass can’t afford to. of course, i can do it for myself—but never do. when we first started dating, i usually paid for everything; but that’s definitely a whole other blog to come.] i bought myself something that i really didn’t need, which usually does the trick. then we headed to starbucks to use their bathroom, and ended flipping on the frap-making-people for being such fuck-ups. the train ride home was the funniest. i was so sleepy, i was delirious. i was bouncing around, grabbing headphones, dancing on train doors and expressing the inner stripper in me. now i'm laying in my bed, admiring my purchases, and dreading the next few purchases i'll be making, since they're solely for the wedding on friday.

just agenda blogging for now—definitely not in the mood to blog about my feelings for this half-assed boyfriend i have and how much i miss his amazing son.

#6

i’m freakishly sleepy. i got home at 6 from spending an amazing few hours with the love of my life. we laid in bed & watched hancock—the bootleg. i’m glad i didn’t pay to see that shit. it’s actually quite stupid. super heroes and married siblings; it’s a hot ass mess. so after sitting thru that, we started it over—to drown out the sounds of, umm, you know. then we took pics. well, he took pics—of me, if you catch my drift. then we talked about what would happen between us if he moved back to pennsylvania. i have no intentions of us breaking up just because he’s two hours away, and i’m happy the feeling’s mutual. then he laid on me, which made me cry. i haven’t been able to sleep easily in days because i’ve been so worried about him. he wiped my tears, as usual because his girlfriend’s a big baby, and then we continued our little photo shoot. then came round two, followed by more pics—normal ones, kinda. ha. the sex is amazing with him, and what makes it even better is that he means so much to me. we talked about weekending at his dad’s. I’m cool with it, i just don’t know how his dad will feel—i’ll keep you posted.

so tomorrow’s a big day for us. the 11th of every month is big. it’s just our thing. i haven’t decided on tomorrow night’s plans, but i have to pick up my check, hit the bank, and get our gift for roxanne and monty’s couples shower. i’m thinking, late night sushi at the promenade or brooklyn bridge park. we’ll get home around 2am and pass out in my living room—accidentally. i’ll make breakfast, as usual, then we’ll make cup cakes for the shower that day. this should be fun…not really.

and i have to get that ugly ass bridesmaids’ dress for the wedding. i hate it. you’d think as the maid of honor, i’d get to look different. nope. this shit’s obscenely hideous. i’ll have to sit there and figure out how to change it, but as is, it’s ridiculous. but my robbie will be there, so i’m excited for that.

so i’m just blogging until i fall asleep. i really could use a nap. i’m worn out.

hair show. august 9th. the meeting went well. i met a few of the other girls; they’re not what i’m used to when i go to go sees, but i guess it’s not that kind of party. it’s basically runway work, but instead of the focus being on the clothes, it’s on the hair. shanel, the stylist, said i’m her rocker girl. she likes my haircut, and she’s adding purple tracks to it. funny thing; i’m the skinniest girl there, yet, she keeps telling me not to eat. does this bitch not know that i’m a size 2 and 120 pounds, unlike the rest of her models? this other girl there was a size 7, and when i asked her if she got the same critique, she said no and looked at me like she was shocked and appalled—not my fault, honey.

so you think you can dance is starting, then america’s best dance crew. i’m out this bitch.