It wasn’t me!

There is nothing worse than being forced by your best friend to go to the gym with her when you already had your mind set on pigging out on a pint of Ben and Jerry’s cinnabon ice cream while sobbing over the latest episode of This Is Us.  There is absolutely nothing worse than being in the middle of a very compromising yoga position and having this propeller-sounding gust of air blow through the silent room.

All eyes on me.

So, what’s a girl to do?

Right, deny, deny,deny and deny some more.

It wasn’t me! It was probably the Air conditioner that was grinding overhead; perhaps something got stuck, or maybe it was a shootout happening outside, or maybe it was the seventy-year-old woman next to me–which would probably explain the smell, right? P-U, lady.

“You should probably take a laxative when you get home to clean yourself out, dear, and forget drinking soda and all of that sugary stuff you kids eat and drink these days, drink water and only water, because gee, kid, even I don’t smell that bad, and I’m older than God”, the old lady said.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t her. But it still wasn’t me!

 

via Daily Prompt: Deny

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Help me understand…

I am always hearing how women tend to create imaginary situations in their heads and then one thought leads to another and so on and so forth.  But I don’t actually see the problem with that!

The way I see it, the more imaginary scenerios and situations we can come up with, the more prepared we will be in life!

“Hmm…if so and so said this and that to me, this is how I will smoothly respond and still have all of my self esteem in tact” and  “If Michael B. Jordan comes up to me and tells me I have a booger smeared on my cheek, this is how I will smoothly play it off” sounds a whole hella’va lot better than having so and so say this and that to me and then me standing there stuck on stupid or having Michael B. Jordan come up to me and tell me I have a booger smeared on my cheek and then me dying of embarrassment right in his face!

What’s wrong with being prepared?!

I mean the saying goes “expect the best but prepare for the worst” doesn’t it? I think that’s why a lot of dudes out there, when faced with “tricky situations” they resort to saying “I don’t know.” Well, you would know if you thought about the possibility of this situation happening, before!

You: Max, why did you cheat on me?

Max: I don’t know

Well, I know! It’s because Max, first off, is an idiot who couldn’t appreciate what he had and secondly, he didn’t think of the possibility of getting caught! Granted he shouldn’t have done it and if he thought of the possibility of cheating and all of the consequences that comes with cheating he wouldn’t have done it, now would he?

My point is, imaginary situations that are created in our heads aren’t all that bad, so keep on creating them!

 

via Daily Prompt: Imaginary

And Then This Happened.

I know I shouldn’t laugh and this really shouldn’t be funny but I have a confession to make.  Both of my children fell off the bed less than 24 hours apart from each other.  And I laughed all three times…I know! I’m a horrible mommy! And don’t worry no child was harmed in the making of this blog.

So, this is how it went down (no pun intended.)

Ever since my 9 month old discovered the joys of crawling a month ago, she’s been so obsessed with crawling to the edge of the bed and looking down.  Of course I would be right there gripping her legs and pulling her back whenever I felt she’d seen enough.  But as the month progressed, she’d only gotten faster as if conspiring to give Flash a run for his title.  I’m a mom, I make mistakes, so this particular day, me and my two little girls were watching a movie for Family Movie Night.  Unfortunately, the attention spans of a 9 month old and 4-year-old are incredibly short.  They like to move around–especially the new crawler.

My four-year old was the first to get off the bed to twirl around, toss a balloon into the air, fall down on purpose, tummy crawl, roll around, speak an unknown language and burst out laughing for no real reason.  Aside from the fact that she is indeed a little…coo-coo she was fighting her sleep with all her might.

Every little sister wants to be like her big sister, right? So, my 9 month old attempted to follow suit but under my close supervision, of course, it was kind of difficult for her. At first.  I handed her the balloon my oldest was playing with to keep her entertained while I quickly put my phone on the charger.  It literally took me all of two seconds and by the time I turned back, my little baby was on the go. She pushed the balloon off the bed and a split second later she went after it with no hesitation. It all happened so quickly, I couldn’t get to her quick enough.

She believed she could fly, but gravity told her that the lie detector determined that was a lie.

I yelped loudly, as did my 4-year old who, just a few moments before had been too wrapped up in a deep conversation with the…wall perhaps, to even notice her sister was about to take a leap.

My youngest landed on her stomach with support from her hands (are her reflexes on point, or what?) Of course the shock of falling scared her and she shed a few tears but once I placed her back on the bed she found something new to play with and all was forgotten.  She was back to her old-laughing-and-happy-self which made me laugh because I was kind of impressed that she had taken the fall so well.

My oldest, on the other hand stepped out of crazy-mode long enough to tell me it wasn’t funny and that her little sister could have hurt herself.  She re-examined her sister (because she didn’t trust that mommy examined her sister well enough–I mean who would trust their mom after laughing, right?) and when she was satisfied with her sister’s state of health, she too, started laughing and went right back to her crazy-zoo.

Now, fast forward to the next day.

Once upon a time I was a “bubble-wrap” mom but then I adopted the ideals of being a little more hands on with my children.  And by hands on I mean I let them make their mistakes and falls so they could experience in real-time what cause and effect is all about.  If you don’t tie your sneakers before taking off in a sprint, you might fall and make the ground bleed or If you run into a wall, the wall might get hurt, you know, stuff like that. So, when my four-year-old decided (without consulting with management first!) it was a good idea to attempt to do a handstand off of the bed while we were watching our morning cartoons I just sat there watching her.  Who knows? She probably would have succeeded. Did you like…taste how much sarcasm that was lathered in?

So, as she was inching off the bed, head first, hands ready to support her weight my youngest and I just sat there silently not knowing what the hell this girl was up to.  I didn’t want to startle her so I opted not to say a word, I just watched. And then it happened.

She supported her weight for all of a .05 seconds then her body went to the right and landed with a thud.  Think of  the second and third phase of doing a cartwheel. That was her.  She popped up and immediately said “WHOA! I’m okay!”

She and I both ended up in a fit of laughter, I promise you I couldn’t breathe but when we finally cooled down I asked her the million-dollar question, “What were you trying to accomplish?” to which she responded “I was trying to do a handstand! But…I don’t know what happened!” Her legs were not long enough for her to successfully pull off that stunt, that’s what happened! I asked her if she was hurt and she told me–through more laughter–that she was fine.

You would think one fall would have been enough for her for the day, but no.  Later on in the day after she argued her case against taking a nap, she miscalculated how close to the edge she was laying and as she was in the midst of rolling her eyes and rolling over so her back would be facing me, she rolled straight off the bed.

Oh, she was mad that mommy was right ,again, about her being sleepy but I guess it’s safe to say that my laughter is contagious because she couldn’t stay mad for long. She also couldn’t stay awake for long, either.

It’s been about a week or so, she hasn’t fallen off the bed again and she hasn’t put up any resistance during nap-time, and the icing on the cake? After all of that falling, my floor didn’t break! (I forgot to mention, but yes, we have carpet)

 

Unidentified Smelly Object

I don’t know why I continue to let Jennifer drag me along to these speed dating events that were usually held in hotels all across New York City.  Just because she is a hopeless romantic doesn’t mean I am, too, and just because she’s single and has cobwebs doesn’t mean I have a problem with having mine. My generation is so sexually charged, like why is it not a thing for two people to just sit down and have a conversation about Earth and not somehow end up on the topic of sex? I mean, what is wrong with people?

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I say no when Jennifer asks me to accompany her to these things? Oh, that’s right, she’s my roommate and the only one who can make sure we get a quality meal because I can’t even properly boil a pot of water without running the risk of burning our apartment building down.  So, I’m pretty much a whore for food; you dangle food in my face and I’ll do whatever you want.  Why am I so pathetic?

Why is this guy so pathetic? I get that we only get ten minutes before we have to move on to the next date but there is absolutely no excuse for why the first thing that flew out of this dudes mouth was “you have some sexy toes, I bet” like, um, no, my feet are fuckin’ gross, I wear socks and boots all year round and they could pass for a nuclear weapon, thank you very much.  He spent the last 9 minutes trying to convince me to take my boots off so he could “be the judge of how horrible they really are” as if I needed the extra verification and about 50 dead bodies tagged onto my name. Tracy Brown, Mass Murderer, The First to Effortlessly Wipe Out a Room Full Of People With The Removal Of Her Footwear.  Yeah, no thanks. I told Toe Boy he would be forever alone and wished him good luck with life before the next guy took a seat at my table.

I swear to God, Jesus, Mary and all of them, I don’t know how I ended up upstairs in this hotel room completely naked feeling the urge to smoke a cigarette–or hell, a blunt would suffice–with the God of a man who came to my table after Toe Boy.  It’s almost like we catapulted out of the room and up to this room and the rest is history.  Who knew, ol’ girl Tracy was going to get her cobwebs cleared tonight? I certainly didn’t but I’m damn sure glad I did!

We went for a few rounds before my body finally fell into a state of drunk-like stupor.  When I peeled my eyes open the next morning the clock on the night stand read: 12:00…so it indeed was no longer morning but the room was suspiciously quiet.  I sat up and looked around, Mr. Sexy wasn’t next to me, nor were his clothes, I didn’t hear anything coming from the bathroom and he didn’t even leave a thank you note.  Ain’t that a bitch?

In search of my clothes I realized my boots and socks were missing and a dreaded feeling coated my stomach.  Not only was I going to have walk through the streets of New York barefooted but I realized I got got by Toe Boy! His game is on a whole ‘notha level; he makes you think he’s a weirdo so that when you saw the next guy–Jackson something or whatever his name was–you would think you hit the jackpot just for Jackson something to lay down the pipe so good and steal your shoes so Toe Boy could come and take advantage of your feet while you were asleep.

My feet didn’t particularly look like they’d been assaulted but then again I don’t know what an assaulted foot looks like.

Just then the door to the room opened and in came Mr. Sexy Jackson something and just like that I forgot how disgusted I was with him.

“Rise and Shine beautiful, I got you something” he said with that God forsaken sexy smile of his he handed me two bags, one full of socks of all variety and the other with two boxes…shoe boxes.  One box had a pair of boots that were the exact replica of the ones I was currently missing and in the other box were these memory-foam type flip flops.

I looked up at this man, mouth agape, eyes opened just a slit unsure of how to feel.  Happy, I didn’t have to buy new boots for the summer, Sad, because my old boots had been shoenapped, scared, because this stranger bought me boots and flipflops and socks, or turned on because I really wanted to jump his bones one more time.

“Where are my boots?”

“You mean them Area 51-U.S.O-Nuclear weapon boots? Oh, I threw them shits out. I called the desk to complain about a possible pack of dead rodents somewhere in the room and they had someone come up to check it out only to find out they were your boots, so I did you a favor and I also booked us for a little treat at the Spa down the block” he looked down at my feet, “you are going to get those feet corrected once and for all, you are a beautiful woman, there’s no reason for that”

Part of me wanted to blush at the mention of me being told that I am beautiful but the other part of me couldn’t fight curiosity, “What the hell is a U.S.O?”

“Unidentified Smelly Object”

I couldn’t contain myself, where I should have been embarrassed and ashamed of myself I actually felt comfortable.  Tears streamed down my cheeks and I was pleased when he joined in.

“So what’s your name again?” I asked after we both sobered up.

“Jaxon Sumthin…and no I’m not lying. Jaxon J-a-x-o-n Sumthin S-u-m-t-h-i-n”

That was it, I lost it.

Apparently my laugh turns him on because next thing I knew, he lifted me up and catapulted me onto the bed. Oh, My God, It was about to go down! I guess we were going to make a little detour before heading to the Spa.

Daily Prompt: Catapult

 

 

Karma

As we walked into the hotel me trailing behind Jordin, I already felt out-of-place.  I looked at the sign near the entrance and took note that we were in the right place but somehow it felt like we were in the wrong place.  The National Convention for Small Businesses was looking like a snow storm and I was getting a little chilly.

“Jordin, when did it start snowing in Miami in the middle of August?” Jordin glanced over her shoulder and snorted.  Rolling her eyes she asked me “why do you always have to be such a hoodrat? This place is classy; have some class, damn”

If I had pearls I’d definitely be clutching them.  Did this bitch just call me a hoodrat? I am an educated black woman, I have a degree in Business and as far as I know, we were not going to get any business here at this convention, that was for sure.  But we’ll do things Jordin’s way as usual because little ol’ Katrina was a hoodrat.

As we stood in the middle of the lobby taking the scenery in, a short squared grey haired lady with about three to five chins made her way toward us She stared at us with her mouth agape as if she was looking into the soul of a ghost. You would have thought that she knew us from a hole in the wall because the next thing she did was had my life flashing before my eyes.

“How did you get your hair like this?” she asked, stroking Jordin’s dreadlocks, “it feels so rough, yet so…how do you say it? Um…sturdy?”

With horror in my eyes I looked at Jordin and watched her descend slowly but surely into “hoodrat territory”.  I knew by the way her left eye slightly twitched and her full lips slowly formed a thin line, she was summoning all of the Karma Gods like she usually did so no one was really safe at this point. So I did what any best friend would do.

“Black girl magic!” I shouted, startling the woman.  She dropped the handful of dreads she caressed and I ushered Jordin to the check-in desk “moving along, bye-bye, now!” Once at the desk I checked us in,  retrieved our room number and key and headed to the bank of elevators, clutching Jordin’s arm as I went.  There was no telling what she would ask the Karma Gods to do at this point and I was really not looking forward to enduring a scene from that movie Carrie. No, sir, no, thank you.

We stepped onto the elevator as did a couple who looked to be filthy rich just by the look of their luggage and their attire.  I knew for a fact neither item was made in America, I was getting an Italian vibe.  I smiled at them politely and the husband nodded back.  I pushed the number 4 and the husband pushed the number 3.  the elevator doors closed and we were lifted.

“See, darling? That was what I was talking about the other day when we were out with Debbie and Alvin.  When I was saying how unprofessional the clusters of naps looked in the business setting” I glanced over my shoulder and was met with the horrified look on the husband’s face,

“Honey, that was very rude”

“What? it’s nothing a little brushing can’t fix” She gave a little chuckle and pushed her hair behind her ear. And speaking of ears, steam was definitely blowing out of Jordin’s, but you see, she’s not a “hoodrat” like myself so she didn’t say anything so it was up to me to save the day, again. Once the elevator reached the third floor and the couple was out of the elevator just before the door closed I called out “Black girl magic you rude heffa!”

Jordin nudged me in the side and chided me.  “You really have to stop saying that, you’re going to drive away our potential clients.  You need to stop trying to do Karma’s work, people will get what’s coming for them in due time” we got off on the fourth floor and from the sour look on my face you would have thought I was sucking on a Warhead, “I knew I should have said ‘bitch’ instead of ‘heffa’ that would have been nicer right? Like, did you not hear what she said?”

“Yes, I did but you need to ignore things sometimes because I really believe in Karma, you get what you give out, so please control yourself, Kat”

Here we go with this Karma business, man listen, Karma isn’t going to let me accept disrespect, but whatever.  If I have to “control myself” for this weekend I would.

They say that we shouldn’t make promises we can’t keep but how was I supposed to know how blatantly disrespectful this crowd was going to be? When we went downstairs to the meet-and-greet gathering, comments were being made–backhand and otherwise–about everything about Jordin and myself.  Everything from “wow, your kids must be so proud of you guys” and “we sell gym equipment that focuses on the thigh area” and some crap about how much fat was in my thighs compared to how much muscle all to which I responded “Black girl magic” and kept it pushing because we don’t have any kids and I love my thighs. I did not care how uncomfortable I was making everyone feel.

“Ugh, Kat, come on! potential clients! Hello!”

“Oh, please, you think people who only use Salt and Pepper for food will know a thing or two about proper care for natural hair?”

“Karma is going to eat your ass up, you just wait on it”

“Well, somebody should, girl, you know how long its been”

Insert another eye-roll from Jordin, here.

As I was getting a drink from the open bar I spotted him, Brandon Tillman, former quarterback from Samsung University, Morris Chestnut meets Idris Elba with a splash of Michael B. Jordan, the object of all of my fantasies; a God walking the face of Earth.  He noticed me and my breath caught in my throat.  I haven’t seen him since our graduation day all them years ago.

Before I knew it, he was standing before me and just like that all that Black Girl Magic I had before went straight out the window.  I tripped over my words, a little squeak slipped out every now and then, I may or may not have caught myself drooling and my mind went blank far too many times but we managed to make plans to meet up later at the pool so we could “catch up”.  That’s Man-language for something more…you know…right?

Yeah, I thought so too, so after the meet and greet I got myself ready to go to the pool.  Jordin had plans to go as well so we put our bathing suits and wraps on but unlike Jordin’s choice of flip-flops, I opted for a pair of heels that I had no business wearing.  I knew I couldn’t properly walk in them and only packed them just in case I landed a hot date–you know, the type of date where shoes wouldn’t be all that necessary so I wouldn’t need to keep them on for too long.

I don’t know what came over me but the walk to and from the elevator and through the lobby was pretty smooth with these shoes on. I guess a girl who was about to get some has better balance.  Nice.

The pool was located just beyond the back exit of the Hotel and the view was breathtaking, palm trees outlined the entire area, giving much-needed shade in certain areas.  The pool was what I believe is called an Olympic sized pool, the water was a deep blue color as opposed to the regular light blue, all in all I was impressed.

Jordin and I descended the immaculate stone steps looking good and feeling even better.

That was until I caught the view of Brandon and saw him see me and in an instant my legs turned into jelly.  I plunged forward, flipped, rolled then skidded down the steps.  I landed face down on the landing and didn’t move a muscle.  I could feel a variety of cuts and scraps on various parts of my body but I did not move a muscle, embarrassment just wouldn’t let me.

The voice of a teenager all too causally asked “so, like, is she dead?” I recognized the voice as the little snob who asked me how many butt shots I got to make my butt so big. Someone, I assume it was her mother, told her to be quiet to which she responded “no, like seriously because if she’s not dead she should just go ahead and die now because her Black Girl Magic ran out, I mean that stuff should have made her float, right?”

“Gabby, for the last time, be quiet, this woman could be badly injured”

Yeah, Gabby shut up and go to hell.

I heard Jordin’s feet falls before I felt her hands on my back and I knew exactly what she was going to say after she figured out that I was okay and just a little banged up.

“You could get up now,” she whispered into my ear “Karma is done with you now” she helped me up and to my astonishment I found Brandon doubled over with a group of guys laughing so hard no sound was coming out.

I sucked my teeth.  He was dumb anyway.

Jordin held it together until we got to our room.  Only then did she melt to the floor doubled over with laughter, dreads flying in every direction she threw her head.  I simply did not see anything funny about this whole thing, I had boo-boos everywhere now.

“Now, for the last time, you need to stop playing with Karma” she managed to say through her laughter.

“No, I just need new friends” and I hurled a pillow at her body that was now rolling from side to side on the floor.

I silently made a vow to myself to never get into it with Karma ever again because she likes to go overboard

via Daily Prompt: Descend

Descend