One minute I’m ready to quit my job, the next minute I like it. One minute I want to relocate…well, uh, I still plan to relocate. I was looking over my resume yesterday and it sort of resembles trash. Two years out of school, 1.5 years at the last gig, 6 months at the current gig…hmm I’m thinking that I should stay put for a bit so that my resume can at least look like something. I’m currently a consultant for a contractor. I’m seeing some VERY interesting dynamics going on, especially since I work at a client site. Firstly, the client employees kind of look at us funny b/c we were hired in part to save money on employee benefits. So they’re kind of looking at us like we’re illegal aliens — driving down the cost of labor so that the employer doesn’t have to pay top $$$. On top of that we’re under extra scrutiny and held to a higher standard than the client employees that do the exact same jobs as we do (excluding the extra responsibilities that come our way). On the other hand, the work environment is more relaxed and working after 5pm is pretty much unheard of…I LOVE that LOL. I guess I’ll stick it out at least until I hit the one year mark, then start plotting my relocation.
This is going to be one hell of a year. My mom is not slated to return from Iraq until next July. My brother will have to choose a high school within the next couple of months, and my sister has to start thinking about colleges. I don’t think she’s completely sold on college but we’re halfway there. She’s a junior now and I’m trying to line up some campus tours for this fall to get her in that mode. She finally started getting the college thing in her head when we ran into my old middle school best friend. My sister and I were headed to my mom’s to pick up some things before she headed off to Iraq and we saw this friend who I’ll call Fatou. Fatou and I have been in and out of touch since my first year of college but from 7th grade til then we were attached at the hip.
I remember when 12th grade rolled around and we talked about the SATs and Fatou didn’t even want to take the test. She said something about being bad at math and I assured her that I was too but I was taking that damn test. I tried to convince her but she had her own agenda. By November of senior year I’d gotten accepted by the college I ended up attending. They said apply early and I was SO there. All the while Fatou had no plan other than moving in with some silly boyfriend after graduation. Fast-forward 7 years and she’s working two full-time jobs just to make ends meet. One 9a-6p type job, and one at Walmart from 11p-7a just to SURVIVE. I’m so glad my sister was with me when Fatou and I were having that catch-up conversation. Ever since that day my sister has been gung ho about the campus tours and she’s repeatedly said, "I don’t want to end up like Fatou." Previously, talking to her about college was sort of like talking to my damned self. My brother not so much. He’s already confirmed that he’s going to be a lawyer and he just has all the answers (or so he thinks–lol) so I don’t worry about him as much. I am, however, trying to steer him toward this particular high school that’s known for sending about 80-90% of it’s students to college, and the avg SAT scores for that school are high compared to the other schools in the city. It’s kind of tough when they live with their dad who has a GED and isn’t really pushing them that hard because nobody pushed him and he practically raised himself, although I’ll admit he’s doing the best he can.
I KNEW I was going to college sophomore year. West Chester University had a program with my high school where 30 sophomores were chosen to live on campus for 2 weeks in the summer and take classes to get the college experience. We stayed in the dorms, had to go to class every morning, and even had a meal plan. I didn’t know anybody that went to college and was like WOOOOOOW THIS IS WHAT I’M GONNA DO. Seriously. Although I KNEW that I didn’t want to attend WCU that school always has a special place in my heart for that experience. I think I’ll make it the first stop on our campus tour.
I should be at the laundromat right now but why do that when I can update my blog?
I find marriage induced amnesia to be quite entertaining. I get women telling me, "oh I’ve been marred for 5/10/15 years and the dating game wasn’t like that back in my day." Fifteen years ago was 1992…has the game changed THAT much since the 90’s??? I seriously doubt it. Sometimes married women can be so annoying. They got their man now and just don’t remember any bad experiences or how things can be in the game. Let some of them tell it, ALL the guys they ever dated were just so great (yet she forgets that they broke up for SOME reason) and dating was just a summer breeze for them. In the words of Jay-Z, "you need more people!"
What is it about clubs that makes people lose track of all their good common sense? There’s this club out in the suburbs that’s REAL interesting. It’s dirt cheap…$5 to get in, $2 drinks all night on Fridays. It’s an equal mix of Whites/Blacks with some Latinos mixed in here and there. It’s actually a nice venue (it has an outdoor bar/dance floor that overlooks a river). But for some reason, any bar/club I go to that isn’t IN a city like Philly, DC, NY, ATL, etc, seems real backwoods to me. It doesn’t matter that this place is 10 mins from Philly; it may as well be in the middle of nowhere as far as I’m concerned.
As soon as we walk in the door some guy attempts to grab my hand and motions for me to come over to where he is. He’s sort of tucked in a corner w/ his friends and I’m like why the hell would I come over to you dummy? He walks over so I decide to entertain him for a minute or two. He tells me his name is "Dolla" and he’s 23 y/o from Delaware. He’s such a walking example of how wack guys from Delaware and South Jersey tend to be. I asked if he had a real name and he replies "it ain’t worth shit." I said "nice to meet you DOLLA" and walked away laughing my ass off and telling my friend about it. We get over to the bar and all of a sudden this white chick starts having a FIT. She throws a perfectly good drink on the floor and starts yelling "I will fuck ANYBODY the fuck up in this place! You wanna fuck with me?! You wanna fuck with me?!" That poor girl was angry at the air or something b/c there wasn’t a soul anywhere near her when she started tripping. Then she stomps off and I ask the girl she appeared to have come with if her girl was okay. She wouldn’t claim her though, talking about, "well I know her but I don’t really KNOW her like that…" LOL you know that’s your friend! I saw a guy get carried out of the club kicking & screaming for the first time. Now, I’ve been in some ’suspect’ establishments from North Philly to Baltimore to Homewood (Pittsburgh) but for some reason don’t recall ever seeing that happen.
My friend’s coworker showed up with her crew of "we like Black guys" White chicks. They’re nice girls but one of them rubs me the WRONG way. Hell, I don’t even think her friends like her. Anytime we’ve been in the same establishment, this chick always gets LOST. All night her friends are like "where’s Angela?!" and last night was not different. When the club let out we saw her in the corner somewhere hugged up with some Snoop Dog imposter. I wish one of my friends WOULD go somewhere with me and just be m.i.a. all night. Her ass would get left and she’d never get invited again.
I initially thought that Rihanna’s "Umbrella-ella-ella-ella" was just another annoying ass song. Well it kinda still is but gives me a quick and easy out to get a guy that I don’t want to talk to out of my face. I just say "I’m sorry but you don’t fit under my umbrella" and walk away. They all seem to scratch their head in confusion for some reason though. *shrug*
So I’ve been dating this guy for a bit that I met through a mutual friend. It wasn’t a blind date or anything; we met at said mutual friend’s bbq. At any rate, he’s not just a good guy but he’s a good person in general. I’m not saying that I want to have his babies or walk down the aisle with him, but I think that I should at least get my arse to the laundromat right now so I’ll have something that I want to wear tonight. 
I put myself on spending restriction which means no shopping, no nothing until my savings is where it should be (Sistah Ant is my shero). More on that later.
