Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Friday, September 30, 2005

Boys n' Toys

Nice. Just came back from grillin' Sara's honey next door about 'The Architect' (as he will be referred to going forward). Here is what I learned:
  • Italian
  • 6'2"
  • Metrosexual (this is a plus...I like to do nails)
  • Doesn't like hair in uh, places where it has no business being
  • Goes to strip joints (oh yea) on occasion
  • Smart, obviously
  • Comes from money (this is a tough one b/c I don't like snooty people...but from what his best friend told me, he's a good guy)
  • Has his own place (veryyyyyy good)
  • Likes to drink (um. yea, 'nuff said!)
  • Likes porn (helloooooooooo!!!!)
  • Has a good sense of humor...and...
  • HAS A FOOT FETISH!!!!!!!!!! (good thing I have pretty feet, huh?)

Plus he thinks I'm hot and that's always a...well, plus. He comes back from Cali on Monday, so maybe we can all hang before I leave for South Beach, but if not, definitely when I come back. Yahoo! High five on that!

ANDDDD...hanging out in White Plains tomorrow with Sara and her dude friends to honor the 2nd anniversary of her boyfriend Chris' passing. 'The Techie', L, is someone who is a part of that group of friends and I met him a year ago at the Memorial Ride in Chris' honor. It was brief, didn't get to talk to him much, but I was like, in love for a few months. He is beautiful. And in the IT field, so we have something in common. He already knows I'm interested: Sara passed on that info and told me after she did it (that little sneak!), so I'll be seeing him tomorrow. Looking forward to it!

A little flirting never hurt anyone, right??

Monday, September 26, 2005

10 Days to go and Long Live Tenacity

So peeps, 10 days until I leave for South Beach...and the drama is over.

I won't get into it, but, just a heads up: Liberty Travel can kiss my entire ass (insert 2 snaps up here). In the end, we got back the money we deserved and fought like hell for that shit. Fuckin' travel nazis. But, being the thorough and tenacious ladies that we are, we filed a formal complaint with their corporate office and also sent letters to the Better Business Bureau, the Attorney General's office and a host of other companies that actually give a fuck about customers and their dinero. It pays to be educated about your rights. Rock the fuck on man.

In other news, Toad (S's honey) text'd me today asking for S's full addy so that he could send her Godiva chocolates upon her return from London tomorrow. HOW CUTE!! ;-)...and he said that Steve, his friend - the architect (LOL Scott!!), was in Cali and would be back in a week...and that he said hello. Niiice.

Ok Prison Break is on, gotta go drool.

Ciao fuckers.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

My apologies

My apologies those who may have been offended by the post below.

I, personally, and for myself only, believe that words are just words, not daggers. I have been called a million names, have been insulted, have been chided for my heritage. My people are those Puerto Ricans Monty Brogan talks about. I know some of those Italians. I grew up with some of those Africans (yes, the immigrants, not just African Americans). I have friends within each "race" mentioned in the monologue. None of these friends could ever be offended b/c words are words. And yes, actions are actions and sometimes the words provoke mental pictures of hate and menace...but that is not how I mean it here.

I don't believe in "race", "color"...people are people and that's why words are just words to me. Everyone wants to put someone else down to make themselves feel better. I don't want to be in a box, mentally or otherwise. But yet, this world chooses to stereotype and pigeonhole people. So make fun of the stereotypes, like Monty, whose girlfriend was a spic, and best friends were a Jewish dude and a "Self-styled master of the universe" Wall Street broker.


The point is that Monty, in that moment in front of the mirror (catch the irony here), blamed every single person in NYC for his fuck up. He blamed them all before looking at his reflection and finally accepting that it was him. He caused his own drama, his own pain, his own failure.

I chose to post that monologue, not because I am racist (farrrr from it), but because Monty was in a 'fuck the world' kinda mood, just as I was yesterday. I chose to post it because its an incredible piece of cinematic history (yes, history) that undoubtedly left an indelible mark on my soul. Fer real.

I call myself a spic - I crack jokes - I absorb whatever hurt is intended by others because I live in the greatest, most diverse city in the world - NYC - a place that I love and hate - and I was born a fighter and a survivor.
So my point is: when you think about your past and you remember being called a name, being called a 'fag', being called a 'jew' - whatever deviation of what society deems as 'the norm', that you may be - think to yourself "FUCK YOU". Fuck you, fuck your words, you can't hurt me. I am strong. I will not live in a box, I will not let you pigeonhole me, your words CANNOT PENETRATE ME.


Let that shit go. And be fuckin' free man.

Friday, September 23, 2005

Just call me Monty Brogan...

It's been a sucky day. Don't take offense to the following, incredible monologue from 25th Hour:

Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the black-hatted Hasidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gecko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos. Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take fives steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin' Otisville, J! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fueled fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass!

CIAO FUCKERS!

Thursday, September 22, 2005

"Let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel"...

Sooooo I'm watching a program on The Discovery Channel called "Sex Mania", which is about sexual enjoyment and compulsion.

There is a dude on here who is a recovering sex addict. He's talking about how the compulsion began after he got married: he'd masturbate after his wife went to sleep, he began sleeping with hookers and seducing his clients.

Now this worries me: is excessive masturbation really a symptom of Sexual Addiction? What is considered excessive? If once a day is deemed excessive, then I'm on the road to SA. Point me towards the nearest meeting, please.

But, on the other hand, I do also acknowledge the following:
  1. I don't have sex. I've no one to have sex with.
  2. Even when the opportunity presents (or rather, has, in the past presented) itself (i.e. I am making out with a dude and uh...the opportunity arises), I do not partake.
  3. I readily accept the fact that I may never have an orgasm with a man (or woman for that matter).

Reason 3 is why Reason 2 exists. What the hell is the point? Why have sex? Yes, intimacy is great, but I am not going to spread my legs for a dude that I have no connection to.

For now, I will just settle for the deep connection that I have with my vibrator.

Ciao fuckers.

2 WEEKS AND COUNTING...

...until we leave for South Beach. I just finished paying off the trip today and my excitement keeps building. All 9 of us email each other all day long talking about it. Fuck. I just hope there are no fuckin' hurricanes while we're there. Ahhhh screw it - if there are, we'll just find the nearest open bar and get twisted in it. No worries.

I am just so ready man. We've been talking about this trip for almost a year and its so close we can taste it. We've all been through so much shit in the past few months, its going to be a celebration for all of us, not just for Cousin's bachelorette party.

One of us got into Grad school and stopped smoking weed when she was accepted; one of us kicked her man out, only allowing him back in small doses in order to prove himself; one of us came out to her parents; two of us got a new job; most of the str8 girls are fed up with men and their bullshit: ready to open a new chapter in our lives...all of us.

I can't think of a better time for this to be happening. I really need a vacation bitches.

I have been beyond stressed...

Hope all is well, my faithful readers - Gotta say ciao for now - must finish being a domestic diva before I head off to my night class.

Ciao fuckers.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Uno Mas

Is anyone else addicted to this show? Wentworth Miller is the sexiest man alive, in my humble opinion. And it helps that the show is fuckin' amazing.

Ok. Ciao now.

Cushy

What retard maintains this database? LOL ... must be ... uh ... interesting.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

An Amazing Song...

Indifference - Pearl Jam (oh, how I do love my Pearl Jam)

I will light the match this mornin’, so I won’t be alone
Watch as she lies silent, for soon night will be gone
Oh, I will stand arms outstretched, pretend I’m free to roam
Oh, I will make my way, through, one more day in hell...
How much difference does it make
How much difference does it make, yeah...

I will hold the candle till it burns up my arm
Oh, I’ll keep takin’ punches until their will grows tired
Oh, I will stare the sun down until my eyes go blind hey,
I won’t change direction, and I won’t change my mind
How much difference does it make
Mmm, how much difference does it make...how much difference...

I’ll swallow poison, until I grow immune
I will scream my lungs out till it fills this room

How much difference
How much difference does it make

Ass clowns, buttwads and fucktards

Let's just say that I hope I don't have to use the above referenced terminology in regards to any of the cute boys I plan on meeting in the near future. I've had my fill. Thank you kindly.

So SNeighbor's Match.com boyfriend (yes, they spend lots of time together and are very happy. No, I will not try Match again. I used the terms above to describe the boy(s) I met on Match, well, months later, but yea that's what they ended up being).

But! I was talking to her man friend the other night and he said his best friend would definitely be a good 'match' (LOL) for me. So I said, well bring me some pix and we'll talk. And Toad (his fave band is Toad the Wet Sprocket, as is SNeighbor's, so that's his nickname) came through Friday night with the pics.

Apparently, his best friend is an architect in NYC, lives in NJ, cool ass dude. So, I said, well he's cute (at least he looks like it in the pics) so let's all get together for drinks when SNeighbor gets back from London. She sent him a pic of me that she had in her phone. Yikes. We shall see what's up. I told her to give Toad my number to pass along and according to Toad, he would be totally into me. Ok.

In other news, I got bought new glasses yesterday.


I like them.

In closing, I'll leave you with a quote from one of my favorite movies, Superstar.
"Sometimes, when I get real nervous, I stick my hand under my armpits and SNIFF 'EM LIKE THIS!!"

Ciao fuckers.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Just barely

Hey. The past few days have been really rough. I haven't had a moment's peace: the classes, work, the phone constantly ringing and nobody particularly interesting on the other end. I am so over it. I don't even want to go out! I just want to be the domestic diva all men dream of and fix up my house. Gah!

I haven't even had time to blog: apparently Similac had some chick over his house on Saturday (gah, I love my girlfriends - they get the dirt without even asking), meanwhile, he invited me over for that same night. I erased his number - and so it goes.

I can't deal with that kid shit.

An old flame called yesterday - still self-absorbed lol. I "dated" him when I was a freshman in high school and he was a sophmore. We recently reconnected but we're both too busy - he's a cop (anti-crime division) and studying to be a sargeant. And we all know my woes. He is cool, but I'm not the type to rekindle - I like to build from scratch.

Anyway, Entourage is on my Direct TV, so I gots ta go!

Ciao fuckers.

p.s. Guess who is getting tatted by Ami James from Miami Ink whilst in South Beach??? Yup, you guessed it!

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Similac-ian Games

That's TB's new name: Similac. It was "The Fetus", then "The Embryo", but I like referring to him as "Similac". I think he plays too many childish games: "call me tomorrow" (read: "call me but I won't answer the phone"), "come hang out with me in BK" (read: "call me but I won't answer the phone" LOL)...so I got to thinking about the games women play.

I've realized that as much as most women say they "hate playing games", we all do it. For instance, I used to have a 'club name'. It was the name I gave out when dudes would introduce themselves to me (it was Jessica if you're wondering)...it was easy to remember when I was drunk (not that I ever answered to it) and no one ever pronounces my damn name right anyway, so why not? I also used to tell dudes I had a boyfriend when I was, in reality, very single (still am!!), and the truth was that I was just not that into them. Playing hard to get, yadda yadda. These are all things that women have done (or still do) - don't lie bitches.

Now what's my point? My point is: Women, well...we complain alot. We want this, we want that, we want honesty, yadda yadda. How about we dish what we want to take? How about letting go of the garbage in, garbage out theory? How about we just be real? Tell that random dude in the bar hitting on you that you are single and are not interested in him? Tell him your real name...what difference does it make? You're just not that into him, so you're not going to give him your number right? What's the harm?

I am just so tired of being a facade...a persona. Tired of hiding behind a pretty face. There is alot more depth to me that what I 'show' in public. Tired of playing the game people.

Ciao fuckers.

Cross-mojonation

LOL. I have a new crush. Of course, its one of the new analysts at my job. So completely unattainable. ;-( But damn, he is so freakin' hot.

I plan on sleeping VERY well tonight, LOL.

Post more when I get a chance...

Ciao fuckers.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Have I Lost My Mojo?

So. I am finally home after a hellish day of running errands and overall, just being wicked productive. High 5 on that.

Amidst this flurry of activity, I am beginning to realize that if I weren't so busy all the time, I'd be getting into mucho trouble, as I mentioned previously. I feel as though I am discovering my worth and my reason for being - I am learning, becoming more educated, sharing the knowledge. For now, I surmise that's what I'm here for.

Aside from all of that nifty, mind-altering shit, I think I lost my mojo. I have a feeling that I am too busy to remember that I am still single and lonely (spare me the 'oh, no, not that loneliness crap again' comments - I get it, but I won't delve too deeply into that reality).

Less-than-productive Yaz (read: summer Yaz who was off 3 days a week and had way too much time on her hands and subsequently, flirted with a married dude and in general, just got into too much trouble) would jump at a dude's invitation to hang out. Ms. Busy Pants Yaz...not so much.

TB, the incredibly delectable college man, text'd me when I got home from class around 10:15pm this evening. He said I should go to Brooklyn (where he resides)...I asked him if he was drunk b/c I just got home from class and I'm staying put. He called me and we shot the shit for a bit and I asked why he wanted me to come to BK. He said he was just hanging in, watching the Patriots game (go Patriots!!) with his boys, boozing. Apparently, his friends were going out after the game and he didn't feel like going to the bars - hmm.

An aside. I said to myself, "Self, what in Napoleon's name would I be doing if I went out to Brooklyn at this time of night to see this delicious young man?"...and my answer was simple: Nothing good.

So I say to young TB, "Darlin' I have to get up @ 7am and go to the gym, physical therapy and then to work. I would be useless if I didn't get some sleep tonight, so I'm hanging in." He understood and we talked for a few more minutes, ending with him asking me to give him a buzz on Saturday to let him know if I was hanging in the "cit-ay", as he calls it.

Again, a few months ago (prior to being busy and prior to reading what should be every girl's bible), I would have sacrificed sleep (and sanity the next day) and hopped in the car to Brooklyn. I would have hung out with him, in his house and watched TV. More than likely, I would have hooked up (which, you all know, by my definition, means kissing and no sex).

But, being the incredibly busy and fabulous woman that I am, I decided against the late night jaunt and chose responsibility (and loneliness!!) over hanging with TB (did I mention he is ridiculously hot???!??!).

So the question I pose to my faithful and gorgeous readers is this: Have I lost my mojo? Or am I just being responsible and enlightened?

I direct you all to the last chapter of the bible: putting it all into practice now, takes patience and a little bit of yummy humble pie. Setting my standards...oh what a task. I will not randomly hook up with hot guys (ok, I'm sorry, it was difficult to keep a straight face while typing that)...correction: I will TRY not to randomly hook up with hot guys (and by randomly, I don't mean guys that I've just met - I mean guys that I talk to fairly regularly but haven't actually gone on a date with)...I will not go see guys after the self-imposed 'booty call' hour (any visiting after 10pm, y'all...Zing, you're a night owl, so your 'booty call' hour may be different LOL). I will remain fabulous and not wait for a phone call from a dude, but I will not pursue, either.

I am way, way, way too damn fabulous, smart, funny and beautiful to do that again. No way!
...ok??

Ciao fuckers.

Still going...

...nothing outlasts the Energizer...

Dang. I have been running around like a madwoman. Started back at the gym on Tuesday and let me tell you, I don't know why I ever stopped. I feel so good that I am getting back into it, injury and all. Been doing short sessions this week, 45 minutes, but its better than nothing. I'll up it to an hour for next week. Baby steps, ya know.

Nothing new has been going on with me, other than the fact that I am slowing wearing myself out and I'm finally beginning to appreciate my youth. If I were older, I doubt my body could take all this activity.

Why in the world did I decide to go back to school full time, work full time and actually try to have a life? Who ok'd that? Dang! Good thing is, though, that I don't have time to go out much during the week anymore, so I'm staying out of trouble. Not drinking as much...ok, just Friday and/or Saturday, instead of 4 or 5 days out of the week. The beer gut would have been the end of me.

So all in all, I guess I'm doing alright. Still breathing. Still moving along at the speed of Zing. Still aching to help in New Orleans, but I honestly don't have the time or the stomach for it. I can't even watch it on TV anymore. I have 2 FDNY buddies down there helping out - I wish them safe travels...and I'm donating what I can.

Until the next free moment, I bid you adieu.

Ciao fuckers.

Monday, September 05, 2005

Go

GIVE IT A FUCKIN' BREAK

OMG. I don't want to be here right now here he is doing it again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shut the fuck up, already! Why does he have to work EVERY holiday? To torture me? DANG!

Ciao fuckers.

Fuckin' stupid

So I'm at work right now, yes on Labor Day. I need the comp time.

As per the holiday usual, I've nothing to do so I thought I'd go shopping online.

Upon visiting Old Navy.com, I see the following (click for full pic):




What the fuck makes Gap, Inc. think that employees affected by Hurricane Katrina have internet access? Phone access perhaps? Nope, doubt that either. How about Gap, Inc. employees affected by Hurrican Katrina probably don't have access to much of anything.

I am sometimes amazed by the pure idiocy of big businesses.

Ciao fuckers.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Hilarious

"I am Jack's complete lack of surprise"

Every now and then, I give people the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes, I say to myself "Self, its ok that so and so didn't call you back...so and so will call tomorrow"...Occasionally, I move on without another thought.


And other times, I get a little ticked off. And in my book, a little ticked off is way worse than really pissed off. Really Pissed Off Yaz will get over things just as quickly as they erupted, but A Little Ticked Off Yaz feels the gnawing, biting annoyance for much longer than she should...self-preservation tactics (in order to stay detached), one would say. Moving along.


Shy Guy called me last night when I got home. He promptly apologized for his drunkeness the night before, to which I replied that he didn't say or do anything stupid. He then asks what my plans were for the evening and I told him that my plan was to stay home and relax. In his best 'aw shucks' voice, he asked me if I wanted to hang out. So I said, sure, what do you have in mind?...
Shy Guy: Are you going down there?
Me: Excuse me?
Shy Guy: To the bar.
Me: Pauline's?
Shy Guy: Yea.
Me: I wasn't planning on it, but I'll think about it.
Shy Guy (aw shucks again): Oh alright.
Me: Listen, let me find out what's up and I'll call you back.
Shy Guy: Ok. Bye.

I hang up. I call J9 who doesn't care what we do and I'm like, yea dude wants to see me so let's go to Pauline's. She's down and says she's on her way to my house anyway. So I say cool and we hang up. I call Shy Guy.

Me: Hey.
Shy Guy: Hey you, what's the story?
Me: Yea we're going to Pauline's around 11(ish).
Shy Guy: Ok good, we'll be there a little after that.
Me: Ok, see you then.
Shy Guy: Ok.

I hang up.

Just a little aside here. I met this dude 2 weekends ago. He's been asking me when we're going to hang, blah blah. I'm like dude, I work on the weekends, so we can hang out after I get out one day. I am usually free during the week, but school just started and I have to get used to my new schedule. Whatever. After saying
this (2nd paragraph, about half way through), why in the world would you call me up and suggest we meet at a bar? Do my words mean nothing? My idiocy lies in the fact that I actually went to the bar instead of saying, hey dude, you remember what we talked about last night? Well, yea I'm sticking with that, so unless we're hanging out somewhere else, I'm staying home.

Back to it. So I looked really nice to go to the freakin' bar last night and we got there after 11. J9 and I sat and got stared at for awhile before her brothers came in and pretty much played bodyguards. 12am, 1am, 2am came and went and Shy Guy was no where to be seen (not found, b/c I really wasn't looking) so I asked J9 to drive me home. I purposely didn't drive b/c I figured, well I'll just take advantage and get tipsy. Not so much. I was home and in bed by 2:45 am, with nary a phone call from this dude.

My dilemma is this: Do I give him the benefit of the doubt and say to myself, "Self, he was playing cards with his boys when he called you and probably got too drunk and passed out, making it nearly impossible for him to call you, much less go down to the Bronx". I could say that to myself, but why be dilusional? He is just not that into me. Either that or he has a drinking problem.

Doesn't matter. I am not wasting my time or energy. You might be thinking that I am just not tolerant of other people's time management skills or I'm just selfish. No, not it at all. I am just so evolved (yet again) since my journey with Liz and Greg began. Yes, Zing and I make it sound like a cult, but damnit, if it were, I'd be the President (not just a client). Don't bullshit me, don't play games. Call when you say you're going to call and show up when you say you're going to show up, especially when its you calling me and saying you'll call right back or you calling to invite me out (whether to a bar or out to dinner, doesn't matter, just don't be a flake). That's just stupid to me.

I do enjoy stupid people though. I am amused today, rather than a little ticked off.

So, as I say about every other week: another one bites the dust. I just can't be bothered, can't waste my time. And, as usual, "I am Jack's complete lack of surprise."

Ciao fuckers

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Man-maintenance

I'll tell you something: texting or calling multiple dudes in one sitting can be stressful, but I feel that a little 'man-maintenance' is necessary sometimes. Gotta let them know you care (lol). 3 was my record last night. I was tame. And sober when I did it, so ya know, I didn't embarass myself. Considering that I've not hung out with any of these dudes yet, it took alot for me to pick up that phone and dial.

I DID actually see D2 (otherwise known as "Shy Guy") last night, briefly. I invited him over to Pauline's after he got out of the wedding he was at. He was so wasted and didn't call to tell me he wasn't coming. So I bounced and he invited me over to the bar by his house. I was like, ok I will pass by, but I'm not coming inside. So I drove up there and we smoked a stogie together and I called it a night. He is nice, but he was very wasted and I told him that I'm not really with the whole 'hanging out at bars' thing before we've had a real date...hence why I didn't go inside the bar and sat outside in my car. He was cool with that, but we'll see how much of that conversation he remembers. Intelligently, he decided to let me go on my way for fear of embarassing himself.

Anyway, so it was an OK night. Can't complain.

I am supposed to hangout with J9 again tonight. But I doubt I'm doing anything. I want to go home and relax tonight. Her partner Shaq is going with her man to Caroline's tonight at 11:30 to see some comedy show, and while I like Caroline's and everything, her man is going with Ed Lover and his friends. Um. A little on the ghetto side for my taste thanks. So I'm going to pass.

Ciao fuckers.