UNACCEPTABLE!

Wow...maybe blogging isn't for me afterall?! Cannot BELIEVE I haven't blogged in ages. Have been so SO busy with school and work and school and more work. *sigh* UNACCEPTABLE! I'll be back to post an actual blog entry in a couple of hours. Gotta rush off to an evening class :( . BRB!

Sigh!

I've been trying so so SO hard.

I've been consistent for the past few weeks.

Still, today I relapsed.

Can't get over how lazy I am.

Why is it easier for others to just do the right thing?

Why is it so hard for me?

It's Sunday.

Yet I slept in.

I chose my bed over worship and thanksgiving.

Despite the fact that I know I'm blessed,

Not because of my doing.

But because of a power greater than me.

I'm such an ungrateful biatch.

Lord forgive me.

A Date, Larry and the Issue of GBB

Two weeks ago, I accompanied a friend to a mixer her company was having. She'd just started work for this particular company and didn't want to go alone. She pleaded and begged me to go with her. I was done with finals and was too bored to say no. Plus, I'd never been to the lounge where the mixer was taking place and I wanted to check it out.

So, there we were, mingling and networking with a cross-section of corporate America. It was fun - that is, until my friend quietly snuck off in the middle of a conversation we were having with two of her co-workers. Soon, her co-workers - who I'd run out of things to talk about with - decided it was late and headed home. In an instant, I was by myself, holding a vodka tonic in my hand, looking like quite the loser. I panicked and looked across the room. My USELESS friend was in a corner of the lounge, grinning from ear to ear and laughing flirtatiously with some TSMIAS - tall, sexy morafogger in a suit. What is it about men in suits? Tres Sex-ay! I looked at her, waiting for her to see me. When she did, I glared. She smiled apologetically from across the room, and continued talking to TSMIAS, like I - the friend who had been gracious enough to take time out of her busy schedule (ok, so my schedule was in fact filled with a lot of free time at this point but whatever!) and hold her hand to this event -DID NOT EXIST! It's not her fault!

There I was, alone, panicking. What would Carrie do? This is the question I ask myself whenever I'm in sticky situations like the one I was currently in. Sometimes it works. Most times, it doesn't. In my head, I'm thinking: Is there a Sex and the City episode in which Carrie was left to fend for herself while at a social event where she didn't know anyone? I can't remember any. Think think. Drift, casually, to a group of people and join in their conversation. No no. I couldn't do that. Look confident. Sway to the music - act like you appreciate the sort of jazz the DJ's playing. Ok, this is working. Continue swaying. Too much swaying. Be subtle. Ok, this might be working. Oh who am I kidding? This is awkward. I'M SO OUTTA HERE!

"What are we drinking?"

I turned in the direction of the voice. Ah ha! Another TSMIAS! Wot wot! Dang - and he fooooiiinne! Plus he smelled good!
I smile - a big toothy thank-you-for-saving-my-life smile.
"Vodka Tonic"

Goodness, what is this smell? It's delicious!

He gets me another glass and we get to talking. He was a management consultant. I'm thinking, hmmn, brotha has a job and does not live with his momma - ok nice. He dropped a hint about being single. Nice nice. He was funny - sarcastic, dry-humor. Easy to talk to. Nice nice nice nice NICE! He asked for my number. I practically gave it to him before he finished asking. I went home - giddy from the mix of his yummy smell and too much vodka tonic in my system.

Well, my TSMIAS was a morafogger indeed. He never called! The little shit! Life went on as usual. My mindset switched back to the all-men-are-trifling-beasts mode.

This past Sunday, however, he did call. He apologised profusely about not calling before. He'd been busy (BS! Never a valid excuse). He was free Tuesday night (yesterday). He asked if I liked sushi.

That is how I found myself at a cozy, sushi restaurant/bar yesterday, Yes, I was at dinner with my TSMIAS. Not a date - dinner! I'm still not looking to be in any relationship of any sort at the moment so let's call it a dinner between potential friends...(Lol, who'ma kiddin?!)

Larry (that's what we'll call my TSMIAS from now on as he was not wearing a suit at the sushi dinner) was charming, not suprisingly. Still funny. Still sarcastic. There were no awkward silences, thank heavens! He had a swagger that was void of irritating egotism. Seemed like we had so much to talk about. And he still smelled delicious! Gaddamn!! In my head, I was getting a little ahead of myself - We would make such a good couple. Our wedding will be spectacular. I wonder if we'll have it here or in Naija seeing as he's from here. Hmmn. Oh, and our babies will be gorgeous. I think I'll name the girl Lola- I've always loved that name. Then maybe her middle name could be his mom's first name? I'm sure he'd like that. What about the boy? I've always liked Brad. Hell no - my mum will kill me first before she lets me name her grandson Brad. Hmmn - maybe we'll compromise and I'll give Brad a Nigerian middle name. Hmmn...How many children sef? I think three's good. Yeah, three's perfect...

"T and I had mad fun last summer. We went sky-diving"

Back to the conversation and reality. Larry was talking about T, his BB - Bestest Bud. They'd known each other since middle school.

"Men, can't wait for you guys to meet. You'd love her. She's a trip!"

Her? She? WHAT?!

"T's a she?"
"Yeah, T's short for Tori"
"Ooooh I see"

The wedding was SO off! And he can forget about Brad and Yvonne! I will NOT be having those babies with his "my-bestest-bud-in-the-whole-wide-world-is-a-girl" sorry ass, thank you very much!

You see, I don't do guys who happen to have best friends of the female sex. Been there, done that. Always a messy situation. I don't care if you claim that the relationship is purely platonic. Yes, if the relationship is indeed "platonic" then, I am homewrecker and worldsaver extraordinaire, Angelina Jolie! I also don't care if you are not attracted to her in any way. I DON'T BUY IT!

Maybe I'm overreacting, but I'm talking from experience. It's a tricky situation. I cannot stand the girl-best-bud scenario. GBBs are always very possessive of the male subject they're best buds with. Very annoying! Plus, they feel the need to be overly friendly to you, the male subject's current girlfriend. Biotch, I don't know you like dat! Then you, the current girlfriend have to act like you like GBB and are not in any way threatened by her. There are the fake smiles and even faker conversations between the two of you when you bump into each other at parties. Then there's the unending competition to prove who knows the male subject better. This is a typical conversation between a GBB and CandyS:

GBB: MS loves Japanese food. You should take him to this Japanese restaurant for his birthday. He'd love that!
Biotch, who asked for your opinion?
CandyS: smiling sweetly (a little too sweetly) : Oh really? Well, HE told ME, while we were cuddling yesterday and whispering sweet nothings into each others ears, that he actually prefers thai food so I think I'll take him to a thai place. Thanks for the suggestion though.
GBB: Gurl, anytime!
I am not your gurl!

You know what I mean? Why oh why did Larry have one of those awful GBBs? WHY?! And we were getting along so well before he dropped that bomb. Of course I didn't say anything. I let Larry continue running his mouth about T and how I'd love her. What a fool! I already hated her and we were yet to meet.

Dinner was good though. I loved the decor of the sushi place. I loved the sushi even more (I know I know, I'm supposed to be on a low-carb diet. It's ok to cheat every now and then. Lol!). Larry dropped me off at my apartment. He didn't ask me over to his place to come over and chill for a bit. Guys I've dated in the past always ask on the first date and the answer's always a firm NO! What do you mean by "chill"? Nonsense! So, Larry gets a plus for that but a minus for GBB.

The thing is, I think I like Larry. This is the first date (I mean dinner) I've been on in a very long time that I didn't leave with a mediocre taste in my mouth. It was great, if we forget about the GBB-bomb incident for a minute. I know it's too soon to know for sure but so far, I like what I'm seeing. Maybe his smell has hypnotized me. What in the world was he wearing? Dang it smelled good!

WorldWideWoman blog, can I tell you a little secret? It's cringe-worthy. Promise not to tell anyone? Well, after the date yesterday, CandyS was feeling a lil mushy inside which, just so you know, is SO unlike her after a first date. CandyS fell asleep listening to Corinne Bailey Rae's "Trouble Sleeping" on repeat. CandyS might be falling for someone she JUST met. CandyS can be such a loser sometimes.

How Many Grams of Carbs?

Tis a lovely day today. Sun's out, there's a little breeze - just perfect. Coldstone's a few blocks away...

Could I? Should I?

*sigh*

Sometimes, I do miss the carbs

Low carb diets suck!!!

November 12, 2011...Mark Your Calendars!

Swoooosh! goes the sound of the swift, descending cane.

"Is wan toe, wan toe NOT wan toe tree"
It's one two, one two, not one two three
"Your timing h-is h-off...can't cho read de music?"

My shaky hands, now burning at the knuckles where the cane had landed, start to play the song from the beginning...

I was seven - cute and adorable. This was before MUSON center came into existence and started offering violence-free piano lessons (I could be wrong. I never took lessons there but I knew people who did later on in their teens. I don't recall them mentioning any cane incident). Mama I-forget-her-name was my piano teacher. She was scary and precise - the cane always ALWYAS landed on the knuckles. I don't know where my parents found her. I do remember that a couple of kids who attended the same elementary school as I also took lessons with her. The funny thing is, I went to a primary school with a no-cane policy. I wonder if the other kids left their first lesson with her as scarred as I was. I'm guessing they did.

Mama I-forget-her-name was actually really sweet once the lessons were over. We would have cookies, she'd tell us tortoise stories and ask us random questions while we waited for our drivers to pick us up.

I guess it was just that Nigerian obsession with the power of the cane. A flogged child is a disciplined child. Mama I-forget-her-name was disciplining our hands to play perfect melodies. I remember she was a great pianist (well, as far as my young mind could tell). Her hands seemed to glide so effortlessly across the piano keys and I remember thinking to myself, Hell to the naw, I ain't never gon' get wit it like dat! Ok, so these were not the exact thoughts in my little, cute head. First, I was seven and my name is not Shetanya Sheniqua. Second, the phenomenon that was Being Bobby Brown (remember that tv show? Bravo aired a couple of episodes the other day at 2 am and that shit is still hilarious! Classic crassness and ashiness tv!) had not yet occurred and so there was no way I was acquainted with the phrase "Hell to the naw!". God bless Whitney! No - really. The woman needs divine intervention.

Where was I? Yes, Mama I-forget-her-name was sweet but I still hated going for her lessons. I was actually one of her favorites and didn't receive as much hand-caning. Others weren't as lucky. There was this one kid, Snotty. I call him Snotty not because he was arrogant or bigheaded (although now that I think about it, his head was huge). Snotty's nose was always dripping and he'd wipe it off with his hands ever so often. Like - eeeew! So NOT hot (please read the italicized sentences in a Paris Hilton-esque voice for full effect). Anyway, Mama I-forget-her-name taught us in groups of four. She'd randomly pick someone in the group to play the piece she'd taught us the week before. When this person was done, she'd pick the next. I used to pray and beg, silently, in my head,

Please let me go before Snotty does, please let me go before Snotty. Oh crapitty shit! Snotty is going first today.

I SO did not want to play the piano after he did! What, with his snot-drippy hands touching those keys. Yes - by seven, I had started exhibiting traits of OCD.

Well, Snotty and piano-playing did not go together. The poor boy!

Swoosh Pay swoosh H-attention swoosh swoosh How many counts swoosh h-is a crochet?

*silence*

SWOOSH HI SAID 'OW MANY swoosh swoosh COUNTS?

Then Snotty would cry uncontrollably.

Please don't let his mucus-filled tears fall on the keys. Please don't let his mucus-filled tears fall on the keys. Oh shit, look at that long nasty one that fell on the C sharp.

God forgive me. Whenever I remember Snotty, I pray for him and wonder where he is now. Can he write? Do his hands still function?

Alas, my dreams of becoming a pianist never materialized. I stopped playing at nine. Yes, my parents and I knew, deep in our hearts, that I was Mozart re-incarnated but for some reason, I just stopped going. I was relieved - more after-school cartoon time! YAY! But now, I look at Alicia Keys and think, that could have been me....that SHOULD have been me.

I'm kidding!

...Or am I?

Well, here's the deal. The dream is not completely lost. I have a brilliant idea. I have a plan.

Just know this:

A few years from now, Jamie Foxx will invite me to be a guest on his TV special, a concert marking the end of his singing career (if it hasn't already ended before then). He will introduce me as the best thing since Miss A. Keys. I'll come out, wearing a yummy number by Oscar de la Renta. The audience will applaud. Jamie will make a comment along the lines of "Gurl, go on wit yo bad self...Ain't that a foxy number you got on?...I could just EAT. YOU. UP...mmm mmm mmm". I'll smile politely and beg the audience to stop clapping. It's getting a little embarrassing.

Thank you, thank you. You're too kind.

We take our seats - Jamie at his piano and me (I?) at mine.

Jamie: Georgiaaaaaaaaaaa

Audience begins clapping again, enthusiastically.

CandyS: Geo -ooooo-oooo- giaaaa- aaaaa--aaaaaa-aaaaaa-aaaa (ad libs is a must people).

The clapping will become louder and louder. Then it will slowly recede.

We will finish the song, 4 minutes after Ray Charles would have if he was the one performing it. Those darn ad libs!

An immediate standing ovation. We take a bow. The standing ovation does not cease.

"Encore, encore!"
"CandyS., please, a song from your record-breaking, grammy-winning album."
"We want more! We want more!"
"Jamie, to the left, to the left! Step aside and let Candy S. do her thing!"

CandyS will smile politely and shake her head.

Candy S: No no...this is Jamie's night. Tis JAAAAMIE's night! Please...PLEASE....No...really...thank you....but it's Jamie's night!...I love YOU too!(Read out loud in a Mariah-Carey-Diana-Rossy Diva-esque voice for full effect)

CandyS will then exit the stage.

THE END

So, like I said, just give me a couple of years. I have a plan and the wheels are already in motion. I just made the following investment:
















Yes, I am now the PRRROUD owner of a Yamaha YPG-525 Portable Grand Electric Keyboard. It used to belong to a friend's family friend who was trying to get rid of it. He sold it to me at a ridiculously cheap price considering it usually goes for $600 on amazon.com. When I met up with him to see the piano and negotiate its price, I knew the piano was mine. His desperation was blatant and suffocating. Apparently, Mr. Desperation bought it as a gift for his wife, who also happened to play the piano when she was a kid. Unfortunately (and fortunately for me), after a month or so, she'd gotten bored with her hubby's present and the Yamaha was slowing disappearing under a sea of dust. But now, it sits, dust-free, in a cozy corner of my living room.

I know what some of you may be thinking - I too will probably get bored with it or be too busy to play it. Well, all doubting Thomases, please be gone! I block your negativity with my shield of determination! Best believe that I am NO Mrs. Desperation. Mrs. Desperation was a quitter. I am not. Mrs. Desperation did not aspire to be the next Alicia Keys and sing "Georgia on My Mind" with Jamie Foxx on his TV special. I, on the other hand, know exactly where I will be come the evening of November 12, 2011 (Yes. This is indeed the date when the TV special will air LIVE. Don't ask me how I know. I just do).

I've started playing my new baby and I'm surprised at how easily it's all coming back to me. I thought I might have to re-train my fingers or something. I'm remembering old pieces and learning new ones. The only thing is, the Yamaha takes up a ridiculous amount of space. My apartment looks eerily smaller. I figure a cramped room is the small price one must pay for fame, fortune and glory.

Sugar Babe Looking for a Sugar Daddy

"Sugar Daddy dating delivers to people who are aware of the finer things in life and understand that good living is not a luxury, but a necessity" -Sugardaddie.com

I don't really watch Dr. Phil. I'm not too sure I trust his methods. However, a couple of months ago, my friend and ex-roomie from undergrad -a die-hard Dr. Phil fan - came to visit for a week. Being the good host that I am, she had control of the remote control throughout her stay. I remember watching a lot of DP that week (unfortunately) but the episode that stood out, hands down, was the sugar daddy online dating one. Basically, there are websites geared towards matching golddiggers with lonely, rich old papas. I was appalled! Did people actually sign up for this? Wasn't this blatant gold-digging? Have these women no pride, no sense of integrity etc.? These men are despicable! These are the complaints I voiced to her. She nodded. She agreed. She too was appalled...or so I thought.

A month later, my phone's a-ringing...

Ex-Roomie: So, I've been talking to this guy
CandyS: Omg! Really? Who? Where'd you meet? I want DETAILS! (I get excited very easily)
Ex-Roomie: Well, he's a lot older
CandyS: Guurrrlll, older is always better. Remember how we said we're past dealing with little boys. They're such a waste of time. Still trying to find themselves and still trying to get their shit together. ..
Ex-Roomie: yeah...
CandyS: So, how much older? Early thirties?
Ex-Roomie: More like early forties
*brief silence*
CandyS: Oh?
Ex-Roomie: Before you say anything, it's quite normal
CandyS: For a 22 year old to date her father?
Ex-Roomie: Sharap! My aunt was 21 when she married her husband. He was 40 and they've been together for 20 years
CandyS: Good for them...
Ex-Roomie: Besides, I'm GROWN. I need to be with someone who is either on or above my level, intellectually. I feel like I could learn so much from him.
CandyS: Is that so?
Ex-Roomie: You are a were! I can smell your sarcasm but I knew you wouldn't understand. Nobody understood what Bianca saw in Ojukwu and how long have they been married?
CandyS: Hisss! What has Bianca got to do with you? You're an idiot! How'd you guys even meet sef?
Ex-Roomie: With your attitude, I don't think I want to tell you
CandyS: Suit yourself
Ex-Roomie: blurts out Online!
CandyS: What? Are you crazy? He could be a psycho for all you know. Please tell me you're kidding! Are you so desperate that you had to resort to match.com?
Ex-Roomie: Who said anything about match.com?
CandyS: What website then?
Ex-Roomie: Remember that Dr. Phil episode we watched, about...

And then she went into detail about how she set up an account on sugardaddie.com a couple of days after watching DP, how she got a lot of positive feedback on her profile from a couple of these sugar daddies, how she talked to all of them for a couple of weeks to keep her options open and how she finally settled on and "fell in love" (I don't think people know what this phrase means) with Michael (that's what we'll call him). I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I kept asking myself, how am I friends with this girl again? Of course I was very skeptical! And I let her know as much! I pleaded with her to end this madness but she went on and on about how they'd hit it off so quickly and how she could talk to him for hours and hours over the phone and how this had nothing to do with his money -she was ssoooo past that, now that she had gotten to know him. He was "the one". In the end, I could see there was no changing her mind. The girl was "in love". I'm actually not too surprised by her actions. She's always been a free-spirit, risk-taker and dangerously spontaneous (alright, so maybe's she's just a golddigger). She is of the opinion that the cinderella story is in fact her very own life story. Yes - na by force!

This conversation took place months ago. They've since met up a couple of times - he's visited her and she's visited him - and according to her, the love has only grown stronger (cringe!). I've since googled Michael and all I can say is my dear friend has indeed hit the jackpot. In a couple of weeks, my friend and her older lover are off to Europe for a cliche' romantic getaway. I still find the whole episode very disturbing and I worry about her every now and then. I think maybe, just maybe, I might be overreacting. People do meet on dating websites, fall in love and live happily ever after. But sugardaddie.com? I dunno about that. Well, like she said, she's "grown". *Sigh* I wonder how long this will last.

Girl: Mommy, how did you and Daddy meet?
Mom: I saw daddy's net worth on a dating website and it was love at first sight.