/me hits "Repeat" through tears

Have you heard Sam Smith's rendition of Whitney Houston's "How Will I Know?" I swear, this man could sing a grocery list and make it into platinum poetry.

His voice is the audible version of the kind of love I want someone to have for me. Does that make sense? It's so pure and strong and sharp...and real.

But that doesn't exist anymore. The last of those men are our ancestors. Replaced by men watching booty-bouncing videos or looking to fill their Asian chick quota or quick to anger or fleeing on a whim or deciding if you're hot enough to hold the door open for.

Okay I generally keep that stuff to myself but #bittermuch & I've been vomiting since last night, so cut me some slack.

The Final Count-doooown

This damn Geico commercial comes on every 2 minutes.

Never heard the song before, but I love it! Unfortunately, it's stuck in my mother's head, so now she's singing it. She sounds like a cracked out cat in heat.

I loooove this song! It's so 80's it hurts. So I bought it on iTunes. 

Now whenever someone's using the microwave in the break room, I run in and blast it and headbang/air guitar. If I'm feeling more chill, I'll stand in the doorway and purse my lips and do the do the coffee stir hip action thing like the lady in the blue sweater.

My coworkers hate me.

Throw Down Thursday

I'm in a mood.

I handled the communication piece for my company's new employee uniforms. Over 2,500 employees will receive new uniforms tomorrow. I set up a photo shoot for a few employees to model the new uniforms and created a wall cling (poster that sticks to the wall) from it. It's gonna be complete mayhem in the wardrobe department tomorrow. But I'm kinda proud of the final outcome, actually.

The photographer used me for test shots without telling me. Each time I looked up into a giant camera lens, I was thinking "Where did I put that damned file?".

But that's not why I'm in a mood.

I can't wear a bra yet because it makes my tattoo burn.

That's not why I'm in a mood.

My period is acting like Satan's bathwater this month.  But that's not why I'm in a mood.

It's that superskank Lisa. 

I had to share a vendor table with her at an event today. She kept telling clients that my side of the table was so cold that they would need a sweater to talk to me.

I'm tired of that bitch calling me an Ice Queen. Just because I don't sleep around like she does.

So I advised them to liberally apply antibacterial gel to every exposed part of their bodies and be sure their prescriptions were up to date before approaching her side.

At which point she happened to cough, which led me into a tirade about sexually transmitted diseases starting the zombie apocalypse.

Why does she continue to force me to humiliate her?

I'm like Zod and she's like Otis.

Just kneel before Zod, bitch.

Ssshhh.  Just take it.

Smh.

I swear imma beat that bitch with a bat.

I'm going to 7-11 to get a slurpee. I swear to God, if they're out of the red pop flavor, imma swing a bitch.

Aww YEAH. Kickin' the Detroit old skool basement house beats, homie!!! 

OMG. Detroit use to have these basement parties on Fridays. This is the real beginning of house music. (Don't argue with me. I have proof.) Everyone would be dancing or eating or laughing or a combination of all three. The neighborhood kids would mingle with the older folks who were usually down there drinking out of those red plastic cups and playing cards or dice together. Usually using one of those folding card tables. And the air would be thick with smoke from the combination of cigarettes and the catfish the homeowner was frying for everyone.

OMG I can still smell it. It was hot and dark and it was always packed wall-to-wall. But people were peaceful and happy and the music was amazing. Even an FOB 10 year old with a stupid bowl haircut who couldn't go anywhere without her chaperon brother could blend in. It was always either really old school like Marvin Gaye or Rufus, or house beats like this one.

Well. That was certainly a rant to end all rants. What was my point?

Ah. yes. I'm still going to beat that bitch with a bat.

#straightouttadetroit

On Decisions

I just got invited to the Rolling Stones concert at Comerica Park tonight. 

But it's Shark Week. 

And the "Bride of Jaws" doc comes on tonight. 

And I know nothing about The Rolling Stones. 

Except that the lead singer guy did a funny skit with Jimmy Fallon on SNL. 

Wait. They sing the "start me up" song, right? They play it in like every commercial in the universe. 

And he dances funny. 

But any event at Comerica is bound to be awe-inspiring. 

Decisions, decisions. 

What would you do?

#1stworldproblems

Last Comerica Park.

Warmth + XXL + Day to Nite

So this male coworker.

He gives me this really warm greeting when we pass. He greets me like I rescued his mother from a burning building. His whole demeanor changes,  By the time we've passed each other, it feels like he just gave me a big hug. 

No, it isn't the flirty look. The "I'm imagining you naked" look guys do when they see a random woman under the age of 50.

Nope, this is more like the look your grandmother gave you when you graduated from high school. It's hard to describe, but it's definitely a "Hello, Mia...I'm so glad for what you've done for me" greeting.

I only realized it this week. But he's been doing it for a while. I watched him discreetly today in the lunchroom. He mostly only greeted the people in his department, but from what I could see, they were just greetings. Like normal people. I cut through the tables to greet him on my way to put up my tray, and he actually put his fork down and again greeted me like I'm a long lost family member, and like he was just wasting time eating until he could greet me.

So I'm trying to think back to something we could have both been involved in. Maybe a community outreach thing. Or maybe I let him jump in front of me on the freeway.  Idk. But it's driving me crazy. It's kind of uncomfortable to get a "thank you so much for waking up this morning and gracing me with your presence" greeting from a guy I don't remember doing anything for.

Idk. I'm dying to ask him what's up, but I'm afraid of the answer. It'll either be, "Well, you saved me my life...don't you remember?", or "Um...what look? Are you crazy? Psycho."

Headed to see Magic Mike XXL with the ladies. I'll see all you ladies there lol

Hey, here's how to go from "worker bee" to "night owl" in 5 minutes:

1. Replace suit jacket with cropped bolero or clingy jacket.
2. Remove pantyhose.
3. Replace work pumps with T-strap peep toes.
4. Unwind twisted hair bun and scrunch until hair is really foofy.

Also, worst butt dial ever.

68 is the new 90

It's hard to dress kyoot when the weather is ridiculous.I bought a really cute tank top, but I can't even show it off because it's too cold to go without a jacket.

I thought this was June. So why is it 68 degrees??

Hung out in Canada last night. Saw a Rob Thomas concert and won $165 at Caesars Windsor...wooot! and checked out The Foundry Pub (omg, the 12-bacon bbbbbbbblt!).

Sooo...$163 to the first person who helps me change my identity and run away so I don't have to move back to Japan...

It's the freakin weekend!

Friday was a great day. 

Some coworkers and I painted and decorated some apartments for new residents as part of an amazing community outreach program called NSO, and then held a welcome party for them.  Part of NSO's program involves providing homeless citizens with apartments as they try to reenter the workforce and normalize their lives.

We pooled some money together to buy home furnishings, and used the slowest freight elevator ever to cart everything up.  This included couches, microwaves, blinds, shower curtains, bed dressings, dressers. Sounds expensive, but we found a few couches at a resale store, and an electronics store manager hooked us up with great deals on microwaves and televisions. Sinks, stoves, fridges beds, and showers were already provided.  

And then yesterday, we held a welcome party in the gym for the new residents. There was a raffle for our PWAT paintings (I guess when you're just starting to decorate, you'll take anything lol). Our culinary department chipped in big time with a truckload of delicious southern foods. Even the mac & cheese was good. And I'm picky abouts my mac.

This sounds like a lot of work, but there were 7 of us to handle things. It was all done within a week, And I got to eat chicken wings and cornbread and collard greens and sit & chat with some of the funniest, nicest, most appreciative people I've met in a long time. The only problem was that we expected them to take the rest of the food to their rooms to save for later. Unfortunately, their seconds and third servings of the heavy food left them lethargic, and I think they just wanted to pass out on their new beds.  So we were left with half a truckload of food that had to be tossed.

Check out the guy on the scooter. He's a speed demon!

In other news, ITS BOY BAND WEEKEND, BITCH!  That's right! A full 3 days of the best boy band jams ever. I already lost my voice and messed up my ponytail jamming to Larger than Life on the way to work yesterday.

Aww, yeah!! You know you love it!!

I rented a cute old school bike with a basket today...was too lazy to haul mine around...and rode the shoreline to the Electronic Music Festival (sweet website). My head still hurts.

My spleen. It haz dropped out.

My jelly donut is all pushed up into my twinkie.

Pixl filter for iPhone.
www.detroityoga.com

I'm getting mad heat for the Iggy Azalea post. Like I told an untruth.  I'm sorry, but...she is white, yes? And she is from Australia, right? And she's pretending to be Da Brat, right?

Yeah. I was all wrong.  Look. Don't go all "stage mom" on me because I prefer the real thing. If you think Figgy is a real rapper, then you've probably never received a rude glance when you walked into a room full of people, or had to fight harder than someone of another race for a job, or had to drop to the floor to hide from gunshots every night.

Lucky. Must be nice to be you.

Want more? Bring it, bitches. I'll win every time.

So a Mexican, a mulatto and an Asian walk into a bar...

Wait...which is which? #notrelated

Three "sisters" sitting at a bar is cause for some of the most brazen and taboo pick-up lines ever.

Drinking things through. On deck: I'm going to say this one time, because one time is enough...

Iggy Azalea is NOT a rapper.

Iggy Azalea is a performer.

She's an Australian wannabe who basically stole her flow from rap goddesses Lil Kim, Missy Elliot and (most obviously) Da Brat - and copied their styles.

So the way Ice Cube's flow is smooth and earnest and real?  On Iggy A, it sounds like a parody. Super super forced and exaggerated.

And why wouldn't it?  Seriously....rap is all about angst. 

Cuz it's hard out here, son. 

Yeah, I just said that out loud in a bar and threw up a gang sign.

Okay, that's a lie. I tried to throw up the Westside gang sign, but my fingers automatically did the Vulcan salute instead. 

What has she got to be angry about?  She's a blue eyed blonde white Australian with butt implants and a ton of music awards.

Really?




Peep the style:
Da Brat's flow @ 0:00-1:30
Iggy's flow @ 2:15-2:30

Accent...where is it!?

She's cool and all, and I like her. But she's not from the streets. And she is not hard.

She ain't no hova. So quit harshing my mellow, dawg.

12.29.14 Dailies

MONDAY


"The Ladies". Always texting,
always popular, always entertaining.
It's high school all over again.

Why is Nick Jonas' new song so catchy? I love how throwback 80's music is popular right now. And when did Nick Jonas graduate from cheesy boy band dude to hot new solo artist?

These things trouble me.

Don't believe me? Every woman at the ice rink the other day sang along when "Jealous" played. All ages, ethnicities. Kristyl and I tried unsuccessfully to hit the high notes and scared a few people.

I brought this weighty topic to the lunch table today for the consideration of The Ladies of the The Popular Table. After much debate (mostly while texting, so they were only partly paying attention), The Committee will henceforth refers to this phenomenon as the "Justin Timberlake Blueprint".

The Justin Timberlake Blueprint

Member of popular/cheesy boy band breaks away from the group and successfully rebrands himself as a hot solo artist.

Step 1: Separate yourself from your cheesy boy band image by doing something raunchy. (aka, "the Miley Cyrus strategy").

Step 2: Your breakout hit must border the pop/r&b genres. Once played on an r&b station, you're in.

Step 3: Your breakout hit must contain lyrics that makes us feel sexy or beautiful.

Step 4: Throw in lots of high notes for the ladies to swoon over. We love it when guys hit the high notes. It's like a singer's way of saying, "I'm comfortable enough with my sexuality to hit that note."

So ordered.





TUESDAY
lol!!!


Best Triple Bitchslap Performed by a Burrito



WEDNESDAY

Forgot to post something before I left.

 

This year was an interesting year. I learned a whole lot more about myself...including things I really didn't want to know. I learned that I'm getting older. My body is changing, I'm growing more stubborn, and my butt is out of control.

 

I learned that I am fragile, but kind. I learned that humility and acts of kindness go hand-in-hand. I learned that a stranger's kind face can hide a heart of hate and destruction. And that a friend doesn't just chat with you every day, or about the easy stuff, but will be there when you want to talk about the cringe-worthy stuff. I unwillingly recognized the importance of financial stability and DIY'ing (doing it myself).

 

I discovered that my want for independence masks a deeper need for protection and security, and my mistrust in things/people that promise them. In a circular irony, the people that promise what I need are the very people from whom I run. 

 

A large part of my path for 2015 is immovable. I can't escape it and therefore I have to accept it and embrace it. I have to consider it when making my resolutions. I resolve to be more patient. I vow to buy fewer pairs of shoes and way more corsets. I vow to try to watch Star Wars, geezus god...again.

 

I said try.

 

I promise to visit the spider exhibit at the Oregon Insect Zoo during my visit to Portland next month. Did I ever mention why I'm afraid of spiders? So one day I did something bad...can't remember what...and my father sat me in a closet. And I remember all these teeny little white spiders hatching from an egg somewhere on the ceiling and gliding down all around me.  There had to be hundreds. I remember swatting at them and crying for my father to let me out. I could've just opened the door, but He'd told me to stay put.

 

So spiders in 2015.

 

Most importantly, I resolve to gain more humility. I need to grasp the insignificance of my place on this planet. Because I want to feel the obligation to help others without regard for my own self-perceived importance. 

 

Ake mashite omedeto, peeps.

THURSDAY

No work today...Holiday Pay Say WHAAA!?

 

DAMMIT I forgot I'm salary now.

 

Took my cousin to 526 in Royal Oak, then we walked across the street to a spot to catch up. We ordered way too much food. Don't you hate being that one person who walks around the entire city with a carry out container like its your scraps for the rest of the week?  lol

 

I'm addicted to photo insta effecting. 

 

Insta effecting. That's a thing.  Don't argue with me.

 

Currently crushing on the InstaCollage app. Not to be confused with love.  Because I'm currently in love with my electric blanket.  Always and forever. Yes, I know those are words to a song. I've sung them to my blanket.

 

Seriously.  Warm it up for like 10 minutes before bedtime, and you'll swear you're sliding into heaven's pearly gates.

 

Even if you're a strong atheist. The blanket will convert you.

FRIDAY

I messed up a perfectly good plot of land in Second Life. It was just right two months ago. Fall forest. Then I decided to winter up.  No idea why. So I'll log on to star and laugh or point or move something to the left or right or pay rent. I'm calling it a work in progress.



SATURDAY

Meanwhile, in my damn uterus...

 

 

 

 



Daily Post-Its

Trying something new. I'm going to write a random thought on a post-it note every day this week. This will force me to blog something every day.

Well, this should be a hot rambling mess.

MONDAY

Okay. Who the hell put mint flavour in the damn chocolate muffins? Are you kidding me? This stresses me out. Attention Chocolate Companies: Stop mixing chocolate with mint.  It's not a flavor. It's disgusting. These two ingredients belong way away from each other. They're like fire and ice. Seriously, who's responsible for this disgusting concoction? It's disrespectful to chocolate, it is.

One time I drove thru a new Starbuck's. I ordered my usual white chocolate mocha. I took my first sip as I got home and was walking through the kitchen. I gagged from the nasty shot of mint syrup some dweeb had added to my cup and barely made it to the sink to spit it out. Know what I did? I drove my ratty old car right back up to Starbuck's and went off. Apparently, the shot of mint was a "freebie".  Really?  Why would I want to brush my teeth while eating the heavenly perfection that is chocolate?? How DARE you, sir?

Stop it.

TUESDAY

Sometimes, we affect change simply by doing nothing. Change is imminent, and our immobility creates a sort of wormhole around the evolving currents. In effect, everything around us shifts about to make room for transition, but because we refuse to shift with them, they just find another way around. And our resistance anchors us to what once was, which will at some point be pushed out naturally. Like a splinter.

I doodle Einstein-Rosens
in meetings.

 

But evolution continues. It won't stop just because you glue your feet to the floor of your universe. 

A bite from change can shoot enough venom into your veins to debilitate you.  Movement caused by an evolution we weren't ready for can weigh enough to crack our frame and knock us about. Action --> Equal/opposite reaction.

But sometimes, change occurs and you push off and follow everything around you into that wormhole, but with the acceptance that all the floating pieces shifting about - bumping into you, scarring you, singeing your skin - it actually toughens your bones and shines up your shell.

 

Evolution can be the greatest exfoliant.

WEDNESDAY
Just saw that. Okay, listen. Don't use what you know about my personal brand of ethics to try to manipulate me. Just because I believe in paying it forward and the tenacity of karma doesn't mean that throwing out phrases like "you owe me this" and "this is your debt" will work. Most likely, your transparent attempt at coercion will get you even less than you already had.

Dammit.

THURSDAY
I can scratch my butt by wiggling in my office chair, but then the arm handles poke me in the ribs.

FRIDAY
Tis the season for ridiculous jewelry commercials. Every third commercial is a guy proposing to a woman while shoving a gaudy diamond ring in her face. The basic message: "She won't marry you unless she sees a big rock." The women at work lose their damn minds when someone shows off a giant engagement ring. What's the obsession with diamonds? And why do women put so much importance on them?  This is how I know I'm somehow broken. I've never wanted kids, and I've never wanted a diamond ring. I'll take a really pretty cubic zirconia any day. Who cares how much it's worth as long as it's pretty? The stone in my mom's wedding ring has been long gone. She never replaced it. She just wore it without the stone. Besides, I could invest the rest of that money in something important. Like shoes.

Oy vey...this one again.

In other news, I broke my booty shaking it to Bruno Mars' Uptown Funk all day. And my answer to everything today was, "Don't believe me? Just watch!"  Kristyl came in and we closed the door and had a dance party. Also, I had to quickly lower my arms and get down from the chair when my boss walked by.



Seriously, how addictive is this song? It's got that swanky smooth 1980's Morris Day Jimmy Jam vibe.

 

Reggae on The Beach

Swanky new outdoor spot with beach chairs, sand, and great music.

Beach Bar & Grille

And on the other side of the coin...

...uh...

What just happened? 

Ow, my head.

C'mon, Wolverine. I thought we talked about this.

Best Orchestral Performance...EVER.

Done.








Also, best comments ever...

R Bee via Google+

I can officially call it a day .. The internet wins .. 

 

 

Roosevelt Nickelberry

Lighten up you maladroit, sanctimonious nincompoop...This was all done in fun and the string section was dope.

OverLorde

I'm over Lorde and her incessant lyrics about her general disdain for pomp & society when she's beautiful AND rich.

Shut up, already. Or stop making catchy songs about the ostentation, little Miss "socially observant".

#wishihatedit

#pleaseremovetherepeatbuttonfrommyipod

AI @ 8pm

Watch for my friend Eric on tonight's ep of American Idol on Fox. He'll be the one with the light brown flippity-do hair and thick rimmed glasses.

Eric is otherworldly-talented (and stylish as hell). He'll go far. Definitely.

#teameric

Stupid hormones

 

 

Okay so I'm sitting on the couch eating Froot Loops and trying to break in my new shoes and watching The Voice reruns on E! right now.  Why am I crying after each audition? lol I'm not sad or anything.

 

Stupid girl stuff.

How come guys don't go through this stuff? It's not fair. Men are responsible for all kinds of mayhem. Like world wars and heartache and boob implants. 

PS: This chick can sing her ass off. I would totally buy a ticket to her concert right now.

Oh, great, I can't watch it without crying again.