Babs in Blogland

My white neighbor who is sitting next to me at the pool just asked me, in a hushed tone, why I lay in the sun.

She thought I did it for vitamin D.

Apparently my role as the Back Ambassador to White people extends beyond the walls of the plantation.

Why is this fool at my pool in a hat, long jeans, sneakers and sipping coffee???

So yesterday my coworker (the older white lady, not the older black one) called me over to her desk excitedly.  She wanted to show me a picture of a sambo statue in the paper.  She was so proud!  Apparently her daughter has the exact same statue at her house.

*disgusted sigh*

I looked at the statue and then looked at my coworker and told her I thought it was positively awful.  I told her it was racist and very offensive.  She told me she didn’t think there was anything wrong with it because the man in the paper that owned it was Black.

I explained to her that there was a big difference between a Black man owning it as a way to embrace his heritage, and her daughter owning it because she thought it was cute.  She then told me that it has been passed down through the family and her daughter does not keep it in plain sight.  She also told me that her two-year old grandson talks to it like it’s his little friend.

I have to tell you the whole thing incensed me.  I like my coworker and understand that she is a product of the South, but I get tired of always having to school her on diversity issues.  I get tired about having to translate urban language.  I get tired of having to educate her on the do’s and don’ts of things you can and should say to Black people, and people of other races for that matter.  Oriental, anyone?

As for her daughter, well, she is one of those Buckhead Betty’s.  Living in a million dollar home, no job AND a nanny.  With blonde-hair, blue-eyed children.  And her latino husband who, not surprisingly, has no ties with his heritage and speaks not one lick of spanish. 

Thinking about them owning that statue really pissed me off.

This is the part of the program where I instruct all you faithful readers to pop over to the Black Weblog Awards and vote for me* for BEST PERSONAL BLOG or BEST HUMOR BLOG.  Yeah, I’m going for a whole category this year.  Why stop with just one post?

I shall remind you on the regular and then continue to remind you if when I make it as a finalist.

To nominate me click here.

*Recognition is my motivation and since you aren’t paying me or sending me free shit, I suggest you vote for me.

How do you feel about these types of statues?

I am addicted to chocolate milk and kalamata olives.  Not at the same time, that would be gross.  But I manage to have both several times each week.  I’ve been on the milk tip most of the year.  The olives, just the last couple of weeks.  I wonder when I will tire of either.

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I don’t want to see or talk to anyone Saturday or Sunday.  Well, except for church, and then it’s back on the couch.

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I am fairly content at work these days.  But I would still like another job.

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 I made it to second base at last night’s softball game!

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It’s Friday!  I’m looking forward to seeing my besties tonight.  We’ve got some celebrating to do!  More on that later…

Save the date!  Babs will be turning 35 next month!  Yes, I know,  it’s hard to believe.  With such youthful features and a girlish figure, I know I look more like I’m about to start my 25th year and not my 35th.

I have another dear friend that will also turn the big THREE FIVE this year.  Recently, she expressed to me her desire to take a test to determine her fertility.  I told her I could not do such a thing because if I found out I could not have children I would surely start binge drinking.

She and I, as well as most women I know, are in the same boat.  No husband and baby daddy in sight!  For some women, this isn’t such a big deal.  But for those of us that desire marriage and family, this is a very depressing fact.

Still, I don’t think it would do her any good to know if she has passed the age of fertilization.  Would knowing that her odds get worse with each passing year (they do) cause her to do anything differently?  I think not.  So she may as well continue with business as usual.

To all the ladies in the same boat, would you be willing to take a test to determine your fertility options?  Would knowing make a difference in how you deal with men?  Do you think it would cause you to lower your standards?  Do you think it would cause you to consider having a baby before finding a husband?

Lots of questions on this Wednesday morning!

This morning I was determined to get up early and hit the gym. Its been several months since I’ve done it so I knew it would be difficult. I got up and took the dog for a quick walk. The entire time I was thinking how tired I was and I should just go back to sleep. But then I thought about my stomach and willed myself not to get back in the bed. I had already packed my things the night before so I just had to throw on my workout clothes, brush my teeth and leave. And that’s just what I did.

Except I left my keys in the house.

So I am typing this on my blackberry at 6am while sitting on my patio. I can catch a ride to work with my coworker and Intern has a key I can pick up this afternoon. But sitting here in my workout clothes with all my shit is not a good look. And I’ll be sitting here for 90 minutes until my coworker is ready to go to work.

I should always always always listen to my instincts. They told me to go back to bed but I ignored them. Not only am I missing another hour of sleep, but I’m not even going to get a workout in!

Of all the things that I dislike, being invited to parties where the host is selling something tops the list.  You know the kinds of parties I am referring to: tupperwa.re, pa.mpered chef, ma.ry kay, etc.  I’ve also been invited to jewelry parties, purse parties and even s.e.x toy parties.  And you know what?  I decline every.single.invitation.

I don’t care who is throwing the party.  My own grandmother could be peddling spaghetti containers and sandwich boxes and I’m not going.  Why would I want to get all dolled up to go over to someone’s house and listen to a hard sales pitch?  That’s why they have malls and shopping centers.

What really irritates me is when I get an invitation from someone who has never seen fit to have me in their house before.  So you are finally inviting me to your house and I gotta bring my checkbook?  No thanks, I’m busy.

Years ago, I attended a super bowl party where the half time activities included ushering all of the ladies into a room for a s.e.x. toy party.  Now, I didn’t know the hostess or anyone at that party except the girl who invited me.  Did they really think I was going to start palming d.i.l.d.o.s and sampling lubes in front of a bunch of strangers?  I don’t think so.  Homie don’t play that.

Recently, I was at the house of an acquaintance for a cookout and child’s birthday party.  While I sat waiting for nearly two hours for the food to be ready (I’ll blog about that shigity later) I was not offered a single thing to nibble on.  I had to ask for something to drink.  But boy there was no problem whatsoever putting a catalogue for her jewelry business in my face.  I couldn’t even feign interest.  I flipped through about two pages before I pushed it to the side and waited on lunch.

Ladies, how do you feel about these types of parties?  Do you attend?  Do you host them?  Do you know we are in a recession and I’m not buying a $40 chopper when I can purchase the same thing at Tarjay for $14?

I had an absolutely fabulous time at home with the parental units.  My mom made a couple of vats of sangria.  We sipped on that Friday and Saturday.  We feasted from the time I arrived until the time I left.  I attempted to wow my family my my cooking skillz skills.  I made chicken enchiladas for dinner Friday, and for our 4th of July feast I made macaroni and cheese and potato salad.  There was no shortage of carbohydrates this weekend!

We played board games and card games.  We played with Roxie.  We had sparklers.  And even AmyG came to see me on Saturday night.

It was a great time and I truly could have stayed a couple of more days.

How was your holiday weekend?