Yew no pay (or B.H.M., Part I)

During Thursday’s Mental Health Day Off From Work, me and my sorta-stepmother (don’t ask) stopped over in Tucker for lunch at the Cheap Chinese Buffet.

I noticed Big Handsome Man watching me when I went to fill my plate, so I tried to look as alluring as possible while carrying a mound of greasy lo mein and fried chicken wings on a chipped plate.

It worked.

Big Handsome Man came over on his way out to introduce himself and present me with his business card. Only problem was, for all his bold intentions he forgot to ask my name.

So I (of course) pointed out that fact and made him squirm for about 45 seconds while I pretended to be insulted. I eventually told him my name, but gave him back his business card saying he could call me if he wanted to talk. (‘Cuz that’s just how I roll.)

B.H.M. says no problem, and asks for my number. I say no problem and write it down on our unpaid ticket, which I then hand to him. He laughs and takes our check to the front.

He pays, waves at us, does a lame call me gesture and walks out.

By now, I’m feeling good. We just ate the $5.50 lunch buffet for FREE, baby!

We finish eating and stroll on out the door, laughing at B.H.M. About 2.1 feet from the front door, Tiny Asian Lady jumps in front of us in a hai-karate pose, screaming, “Yew no pay. Yew have to pay.”

Excuse me?

I correct her, saying, no the gentleman in the blue shirt paid our check. She shakes her head, still blocking the door, saying, “He only pay one. Yew (points at sorta-stepmother) still haf to pay for yew food.”

And just like that, my bubble was burst.

What kinda man only pays half of an $11 check?! I know we’re in a recession people, but if you’re handing out business cards, surely you have enough business to cover the whole check.

So, I ask, what do I do when he calls?

Longing

For:

An office window that opens

Coconut cake with lemon drizzle from Wahoo! Decatur

The answer to: “Why?”

An all-expenses paid weekend at the hotel I’m writing about

An empty I-20 for my ride home

Workout clothes so that I could walk in Piedmont Park, rather than sit on I-20

A new, unscratched Lauryn Hill Unplugged CD

The old Mary J Blige (the songs, not the drama)

Him

Well, if you ARE reading this...how 'bout a FREE snack?

Is this thing on?

I’m stressing because I have nothing to write about today, and I’m wondering if it’s even worth the effort to keep going.

It’s helping me keep writing, but is anybody even reading this?

Let me know.

Resurrected and ready to go

Easter Weekend is hands-down my favorite holiday weekend. It’s the time spent with family and friends, tulips on sale at Kroger, permission to wear white, chewy gooey candy and—best of all—the story of the ultimate sacrifice made for me.

“And he hung his head and died…” That part gets me EVERY time. (Even while I write this.)

This past weekend was as nice as any I've ever had. Friday night, I had a rain-soaked burger dinner with one of my nearest and dearest and her mini-me, then stayed up late reading Oprah and eating sunflower seeds.

Saturday morning, I resurrected my kitchen doors (entry, pantry and laundry) with a fresh coat of Behr Premium Paint in White Snow. They’ve been looking dingy and grungy for months and my lovely Fabuloso just wasn’t getting the job done anymore.

I patted myself on the back with a big cup of Mickey D’s $1 sweet tea, some Lifetime TV and a long nap. Saturday night, I headed out to get a late dinner and ended up at AMC watching The Fast and the Furious 4 (welcome back, Vin Diesel!).

Sunday, I missed the Sunrise Service (Vin kept me up late), but I caught the 11 a.m. edition. I’m glad I did. The babies did an Easter play that had me cracking up in church. Big ole, deep belly guffaws. It was funny just because it wasn’t supposed to be.

Sunday afternoon, I resurrected my family ties and friendships ones with a big, ridiculous Easter dinner in Conyers. I ate way too much pound cake, then beat everybody at Phase 10 and headed home around 7 to get ready for the week.

With weekends like that one, those pesky little whirlwinds just don’t matter much at all.

10 things about me you probably never cared to know

1. I secretly wish I had been named Diane, rather than Shemika.
2. My family never calls me Shemika; they call me “Shug” (short for sugar) or “Sistah.”
3. When I was 6 or 7, my brothers once invited me to play Hide and Seek and then never came to find me. I hid for hours (okay, maybe 20 minutes)!
4. My grandparents’ real names are Avery Lee and Ivory Lee. That was a match made in heaven!
5. I have a mole on the inside of my right wrist. And one on the bottom of my foot.
6. I like to eat ranch dressing on sweet potato fries.
7. I talk to myself all the time.
8. I can’t pronounce the word “asked.”
9. My eyelashes have a painful tendency to grow in upside down, so I pull them out and have bald patches. (GB hates this habit).
10. I would love to own one of those stripper poles.

Mimi the Bee

I’ve had a few rough days at work. In the ad business, sometimes the job you do ain’t necessarily the job you signed up, got hired and get paid for. That’s just how it goes.

Around here, I’m known for being game to do the jobs that other people run from. But today, I was feeling extra bitter about it – wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into and plotting how was I going to get out.

Ten minutes into my pity party, I noticed a bumblebee outside my office window. Not really unusual to see a bee, given that it’s springtime, but my office is on the ninth floor of a tall building. Pretty high up for a bumblebee, I’m thinking.

That bee was just whirling around in chaotic circles and dipping high and low like crazy. It took me a minute to realize that the bee wasn’t flying under its own steam; it was caught up in a whirlwind that probably just came by and swept it along.

I felt sorry for the bee. It was flapping its wings as fast as it could, trying to get back on its original path, until it finally got tired and just let the wind take control.

Eventually, the wind did let go. I bet that old bee was glad to get back to its regularly scheduled business, whatever that may be. I pointed it out to my co-worker, who said, “Well, if it hadn’t been for the wind, that bee never woulda known it could fly up this high.”

And just like that, it all made sense. I’m Mimi the Bee and this is my whirlwind.