Right Under My Feet Is Air Made Of Bricks

It's been getting more and more difficult to write lately.

The sun is shining. The weather is warming to a legitimate and acceptable April weather, and last Saturday Mr. Man and I were actually able to go to the park and just shoot the breeze like one of those old couples you always see on the Hallmark channel just sitting on the bench laughing and basking in the sunshine.

Before engaging in full out PDA with all of the touching and feeling and what not.

I remember us stopping at one point and him saying "Kids.." And I said "Who brings kids to the park anyway? What the hell?! Stopping my rotation!" lol.

The one thing that could very well get us in trouble is our random hooking up in public places. How to explain that to anyone...a 25 year old and 31 year old get caught in the moment...that wouldn't really look good for my career as an activist would it? Nope, not one bit. I was thinking about that the other day. What makes the hookup so fun anyway? I think it's the guilt (you're so not supposed to have sex on a playground, or the park, or the beach) mixed with the hype (but you might get caught) mixed with the adventure (why wait? here is here and now is now) mixed with the serious hotness (seriously, I can't think of one of those occasions from last year without picking up the phone and asking 'Got 5 minutes?')

We walked to Walgreens to get condoms (or condominiums as I call them, lol) and spent half an hour discussing what brand to purchase. I can't stand how he always wants to be cheap on something like condoms. I don't like LifeStyles. I don't like the standard Trojans (they're dry). M A G N U M S. That's the only brand we can ever use because first of all, you don't even fit the other brands. But, because he'll be so caught up on how Magnums are twice as expensive he'll look like "Why don't we like the other ones?" And I always respond "Well first of all they don't fit and break before you've even put it on all the way." Then he just looks at me and I'll always say "Are you saying these are too good for my vagina? Nothing's too good for my vagina. Only the best goes inside this vagina. Never forget that." But in all seriousness, Magnums should be sold like 64 to a box. I'd be good for at least two months. Maybe even three. But they make you spend more money by spending 14 dollars for 12 condoms. Yes, I know, we were breaking the math down in Walgreens. I know people were walking by like "WTF?"

As usual - Mr. Man and I are getting on just fine. May is approaching, and he's supposed to start working soon. I sure hope so. He confided that one of the reasons he was able to relax a little was because I was being so calm and supportive. I have no real reason to be any other way. I know how the economy is. It's not easy for anyone right now. And, it's not like he hasn't done all the appropriate things: he's getting unemployment, food stamps, light assistance. And his next job is all lined up. It's just a matter of when he will start. Also, he submitted his application to start school as well. All in all, he's been pretty productive. I'm lucky he isn't one of those men you have to beat over the head with things, but that's because he's pretty intune to his surroundings. Men that fall in the other category just don't give a fuck about things, and it shows. So with school, and work lined up, as far as I'm concerned we're set. I'll be hearing from DePaul's financial aid office soon (I hope) and that will determine whether or not I can enroll for school in the summer semester.

Mother's Day approaches, and I'm always left wondering what to get my mom, something she wants, or something she needs. I can never tell. I've settled on a pearl wardrober set and a PajamaGram (google them). The pearls are so she can stay out of my jewelry (lol, which will never happen, but still I can try! ) and the pajamas are because I noticed that she needs some. Parents kill me. I was asking her the other day why she insisted on keeping the tattered pajamas she has. She looked at me like I was born on Mars. Now granted, I don't go to bed like I'm some diva or something, but come on, I don't look like a bum either, lol. And who said comfort has to be bummy? Not I.

I wanted to get Mrs. Man something for Mother's Day too, but I don't know what to get her. Well I do, I was just going to get her a card and gift card for Nine West shoes. I was going to get his sister a card, since she's a mom too. She always let's Mr. Man borrow her car to drive me around, so I'll probably get her a gas card or something like that. I have held out thus far because I do want to check with him and see if that's something that they even acknowledge. Don't let me be the one to come and upset the apple cart, lol.

I got my hair done. Bye bye Angela Davis fro. : ( Hello Beyonce, lol. Well not really, I got micros, brown and light brown. I didn't get the colors I really wanted because I felt it would be too much of a contrast. I'll ease into it. Next time I get my hair done (around my birthday) I'll be sure to get micro twists. They look pretty cute. The African ladies that braid hair (well hairstylists in general) can be so unprofessional. The lady was 15 minutes late, so I called. She asked me to wait in McDonald's. I ended up waiting an hour and demanded that she take money off of what she would charge me. It was $180. I had a $10 card, so it was $170. She took off another $10 for being late. $160, so I stayed. When I give the $160, she calls her owner and the owner says "Well I didn't know you had the $10 off card." I politely told her that "Well, this is the only place I come to get my hair braided, so of course I have it. But more importantly, she was an hour late, it's raining." So the lady called back on some "Your hair is too long". Chick please. They were doing anything to get that $10 back! I was like hell to naw. These are micro braids. You being an hour late means that I coulda stayed at home in the bed under the covers an extra hour. And that means that's an hour I'll be getting home later. I had vowed that if the woman's disposition changed (she was quite additude-ish) I would give her the $10 in the end. It did not change. So I said, too bad, so sad. The moral of that story is - be on time.

Why do people try to play you like you got Parker's Bros. across your forehead?