New Intro for 2013/14

Janelle Monáe - Tightrope [feat. Big Boi] (Video)

An affair to remember / forget

Just saw and "Affair to Remember" for the first time. Lead to a deep discussion. Am I wrong for accepting that limitations of a man who claims to love you? Am I wrong to accept that he could leave you if you become disabled? Am I wrong for giving him the option before he asks for it or worse... hurts you even more by cheating on you while you're sick/hurt?

When I was temporarily disabled many years ago, my ex husband... and yes, from the day I became disabled until we divorced, he began to die to me... just as he had thought I had to him... but anyway, when I became disabled, my ex-husband, stayed. Okay he stayed but refused to look at me, touch me... in the light, take me out in the day, and care for me.

Thankfully I had my children who were adolescent at the time, who only saw that they mother - who they loved dearly - had been hurt very badly and needed their care. Only a close friend - female - could see me beyond my disfigurations and stand by me, laugh with me, cry with me, over what I had lost when that kitchen explosion took 3 layers of skin off my face from the shoulders up. 

Pictures were taken and I look at them every time I run across them. I stare at them and count all my blessings since that day. 

But anyway, back to 'him'. There were so many things I had already started to dislike about him. As a matter of fact we were arguing when I was burned, thus my divided attention of the pressure cooker that exploded in my face, taking off the skin (1st, 2nd, and 3rd degree) and leaving me temporarily blind (with burnt corneas - thus the need for glasses BIG TIME) in both eyes, with burnt lungs and 2 inches of my hairline, gone. Anyway, I already wasn't 'fond' of him, but after the burn, I remember thinking, what a good time for you to leave. This would be so excusable. Just go! 

But oddly enough he stayed and now I know why. It just made it easier. It made it easier for him to be the half a man he was. It made it easy to 'not try', I mean surely... with an 'ugly wife' that 'nobody' would ever want... what is the worry right?

Wrong, although we stayed together 'miserably' for 3 more years - and another major accident that again, disfigured my face (I know... just call me accident prone) my spirit just grew stronger and the inner Michelle reconnected with the outer Michelle.

Without my looks, it was easier to concentrate on the woman I was inside. I began to write again, and returned to school. Despite his constant put downs that eventually lost me the respect of my children - I inwardly grew. I became more confident although I felt ugly on the outside. It was like, although I felt that no man would ever want me again, I felt beautiful. 

Now I won't lie and say that I was always above insecurities, my friends reading this will attest to having to do their job (picking Michelle up from her knees) more than once but overall, all who know me would have to admit that I'm a better me than I ever was back then. 

Had I to do that again, I would insist that he leave. If I got hurt again, I would insist at the first sign of teetering that he simply leave my sight and NEVER return, even before I knew my prognosis. 

I was told then, I would scar - badly - but I didn't. I scarred so lightly only those that know me can see it. The second accident actually left me more scarred than the burns - but with that one, I broke stuff - but anyway... the point being most of the scars were deeper than the flesh - and maybe I'm still a little scarred inside. 

But I like to say those scars thickened and because a shield that I carry around with me. It's a shield that says, if you can't love the Michelle that's outside - you sure can't love the Michelle that's inside... not at all.

I think it's that attitude that makes me beautiful. I think it's that attitude that makes me strong.

At the end of that movie, she says "If you can paint, I can walk" but he didn't say, and you can't walk, I'll still love you. Yes it was a romance and so all those tears and kisses implied such, but still, he didn't say it and so it left me wondering. Never once did he say "oh Darling" -- you know how they used to start sentences in Hollywood back then "Oh Darling, even if you never walk, I love you with all my heart!" He didn’t say that....

I just have to say that in my heart, I excuse the man who can't man up to a disabled partner. I mean "you're not trained" right? I didn't say I applaud or admire. I said, I excuse... weakness is what weakness does and I'd rather have you out of my life than in... kinda like a fart... there's more room OUT than IN. So leave... leave now... RUN... before you hurt me. Leave BEFORE my morphine wears off... and don't come back. 

My Thoughts and other things that make me go Hmmmm

In my opinion, being sad or concerned about one’s life should not be considered a mental illness or an absence of faith all the time. Why can’t we as adults just accept that not every day is going to be bright and cheery? I mean, think about it, we can’t pay our bills, we can’t afford gas for our cars, we can’t pay our rent, we aren’t recognized for our talents, we can’t get a job that pays enough to afford to even get there each day, we can’t make our significant others love us.

Why can’t we just be upset at the fact that we have no control over the universe in which we live, that all we can do is decide if we will live through the day with the other option being to slit our wrist and end it all? I mean, really… why can’t be just be ‘not happy’ about that. I mean really, doesn’t it all just make you want to jump up and down and do a frigg’n jig…

Okay, on that note, perhaps, feeling THAT sad should be addressed—vented—let out and reviewed. Maybe even put in another perspective. Perhaps, we should dig deep inside to a higher place and say, okay, so we can’t pay our bills today, let’s call and make some arrangements, we can’t buy gas, let’s walk, we can’t pay rent, well, the stars are lovely at night and I never really gave camping a fair shake… as for love, it STINKS anyway.

I mean, there are bright sides to everything if we just really reach in there. No, please don’t respond to this blog with a prayer or suggestion that I do so… that’s the assumption that I don’t. How rude to assume that. How rude and simple minded to feel that just because I pray I should never be sad! If I was never to have that emotion is to actually deny God the intelligence of my design. I was designed with the ability to be sad therefore… let me be that. Being sad often brings me in touch with my spirituality which in turn brings me closer to my maker so please… this isn’t a time to tell me to pray or to pray for me…

I have to add, that I really don’t like when you tell someone your problem and they say ‘just give it to God’. When they say that, why not just be real and add, ‘because I really don’t give a damn’… because that’s what they're saying.

Because how do you know that I didn’t already get on my knees and pray with bitter tears following. How do you know that I wasn’t baying towards the heavens in a beseeching fashion just moments ago. How do you know that I didn’t pray all night and this morning God sent me YOU…

Anyway… enough of that tangent…

I’m not happy today. Not as happy as I’d like to be. I’ve promised to be perky all month and I’m doing the best I can, but today, its taking a bit more than I planned to stay in a good, sweet, lovely place. Thank goodness for the ability to write, to see my gut on the page. It helps… man it helps. It helps because I don’t give myself a bunch of clichés. I just write it and read it, laugh and move on to something more…

…oh shinny.

It’s just a day! It’s 24 frigg’n hours… maybe less if I have a drink. Dang… I don’t need medication… today! I need some money, something good to eat, a trip to the coast, a hug, a kiss, a new wig…

…it’s not the end of the world that I’m not happy today and well, it’s not a crime that I don’t want to keep all this inside.

I’m just venting… as I do sometimes… because I can…and you’re reading it… because you want to. 

The Lust On his Lips

As I patted the water from my body, I looked at it in the mirror. Of course I sucked in about a 'virtual' 10 pounds and called it ‘gone’. I looked rather nice like that and decided to just hold it in for a while. While brushing my teeth, plucking my chin and pushing up the sag under my eyes, it dawned on me that this would be a great opportunity for me to make a visit to my husband—naked.

I patted into our bedroom and leaned over him while he lie, still… in bed, resting peacefully—sleeping soundly… snoring loudly, his full lips pouting with each heavy gust of air passing through them. Sliding into my stilettos I climbed on him, well the covers that  I penned him beneath with my imaginarily taunt butt… held in with much effort. This was already turning into a workout and I hadn’t even gotten to where I had pictured this all going.

Touching the front of his bald head with my cold hands, his eyes sprung open, locking on mine. I licked my lips seductively and asked “What do you want for breakfast sweetie?”>

Without his eyes moving from mine or his hands even attempting to leave the warmth of the blankets… without even a half attempt to glance down at my dangling breast or well….dangling ‘arm wings' for that matter… he answered, in a voice, deep and hoarse, heavy from a night of breathing in over heated air, “Bacon and eggs… fried eggs.”

The silence between us was tense as I stared deep into his pools of darkness… eyes that once moved me to orgasm with just a glance my way. I paused, stiff… not quite mortified… not really pissed… just sort of … yeah.

“Okay… you want it now?”

He nodded slowly, cautiously… as if wanting to make sure I didn’t misunderstand anything. “Now is good,” he said.

“Umhmm. Okay.” Slowly I dismounted him, sliding from the bed. I kicked off my heels and then picked them up, sitting them neatly together by the bedside, where I kept them… just in case.

Noticing my big red robe lying on my side of the California king I walked around the large pine wood Ikea bed frame to get it. Sliding on it onto my shoulders I pulled the belt tight around my waistline, which had thickened quickly with just an exhale that was too glad to come.

I slid into my slippers, worn down and in need of replacing. Maybe I’d tell him I wanted a new pair since he’d asked me what I wanted for Xmas. Over the last twenty years, he’d always asked me what I wanted. It just made it easier that way.

“Honey,” he side to me as I reached for the door knob, my mind lost in shopping spree at ‘Ross’ that I’d begun to quickly plan. I turned to him. His eyes were again closing, as he no doubt rushed to reclaim a wonderful dream he was probably having.

“Yeah,” I answered, with as much sweetness as I could muster considering…

“And make the bacon crispy … like you did yesterday morning. That was really good,” he added with his lips curving into a lusty smile.

Ahhh lust…

Yes it was lust, pure and simple…

I hadn’t seen in on his lips in a while… but I’d know that look anywhere.

I hadn’t seen it when I took up belly dancing and put on an award winning performance a few months back. I hadn’t seen it when I nearly emptied our bank account at Fredrick’s of Hollywood. I hadn’t seen it when I cooked breakfast for a week wearing nothing but those ‘hurt me’ black stilettos that now sat there poised and quiet… snickering at me as if to say… and you thought we could help.

If only he’d looked at me as he was ‘no doubt’ seeing that bacon…

But… it wasn’t going to be like that. Not now… not any more. Those days were past. I realized then the best I could hope for was that he would always smile like that when thinking about and or eating my cooking.

Just last night, he hummed while devouring a salad that I’d made with this new dressing recipe I’d gotten from a Rachel Ray website…

And now, just the thought of my crispy bacon had made his day worth facing..

I realized suddenly that my lips too had curved upward and my heart filled with love for him. I love this man who no longer looked at my body, cared about what I wore, or considered that I may not be dead below the waist.

I love him and had for a really … really… long time.

What we had was good and yes, despite the lack of what other’s considered to be an exciting relationship, I hoped it always stayed that good between us.

Mr. Shade Tree

I was thinking today, why else would a woman buy a used car except to take it to mechanic now and then. I mean, everybody needs a tune up… now and then, right? Okay, so here’s my story:

I learned to drive at like 14 or so, been driving for years and have been through my share of used cars. My mom’s Bonniville—big, really big. I mean, nothing like your first time… behind the wheel … in something so BIG. I used to practice on in my friend’s Austin American… yeah, ME. 5.7 since ‘birth’ big boned, lanky teenager trying to maneuver in a little Austin American. My friend used to have to shift while I put the pedal to the metal… it was a sight for anyone’s eyes… two teenage girls… one black with a 7 inch afro and one Mexican with a really big smile, driving one really tiny car at the same time. Yeah we were a hoot… still are when we get together… we just aren’t that flexible… even working as a team!

Finally the big day came, and I took Bonnie to the DMV. She was pootin' and chuggin' and stallin’, but hey, my instructor had only one arm… it was a bad day all around. But! Miracles of miracles, I got my license. By ONE point that one armed bas… baaa… bandit, yeah that’s what I’ll call him… gave me my driver’s license. Whew. I was freewheeling now.

Needless to say, I wanted something I could control a bit better than that biggo Monster of a car so I saved up my pennies… and heaven knows a buck.29 an hour on my job, it took A LOT of pennies… to save up 500 bucks to buy my first car… Rollina. She was a 74 or so, Voltswagon station wagon... oh my gosh and I loved her so. Her breaks didn’t hold … thus the name Rollina (often had to chase her down to make her stop rolling backwards out of parking lots and into the street). Wish my lust for mechanics had started back then … maybe I would still have that car… but no, I didn’t find my first mechanic until AFTER I seethed the motor due to her having not one DROP of oil in her engine… oooooh, I didn't know they took more than gas to go.


Okay so the trick was then … buy a NEW car then you won’t have that problem… so I did, I bought Mustang Sally… II. Actually I named him Tony. He was red and sexy… sexy and smooth, yeah. Candy Apple Red Sexy and Smooth… he was so red smooth and sexy that he lulled me to sleep one night on the Pacheo Pass and I ended up wrapped around the hillside while listening to Patty Labelle Lady Marmalade on 8-track. 


Yeah!... and then before he and me could even recover, he was snatched by my first thug-love and used in a crime. After extensive body work on the driver side from that hillside - Patty Labelle incident and the bullet holes, and not to mention that police impound, Tony was gone. *sigh. He never even got a chance to see a mechanic.

There were no cars for Michelle for a while after that… just a buncha "can I get a ride", "can I borrow your ride", "oh I need ta ride… the bus"… for a long while after.


THEN… there was the new car…really new. I mean, off the lot new… and well… POOF that car was gone in less than 6 months thanks to some tricky micky slicky mess… that left me BITTER as a lemon peel about cars.

WOW but then by now… I had 3 kids. Yeah, somewhere in between this and that… I had made a bunch a babies and well that bus riding got old and stank real quick… so I got a DUSTER for 300 bucks… yeah biggo tank of a car… drove it until the clutch fell off.. and then shooooot I got a MAVERICK for 200 (180 if you count the fact that my baby daddy put in 20 on it)… Shame to say it, but it was a party car. I mean I had friends and all that and was living the ghetto life!

I was slanging AVON outta the trunk and sanging songs - once and a while me and my kids would sleep in it if I got stranded too far from home. I was “Driving on the freeway oh nooo in RED MAV ER RICK” (sang to the tune of Natalie Cole’s Pink Cadillac). Me and my kids… I even kept a suitcase in the trunk with our clothes. No body could tell me nothin’… I had my kids with me and we went everywhere!

Shooo that car made it from Sacramento to Oakland twice a week if I had the money… especially between the first and the fifteenth… shooooot. THEN... BLAM... CLANG CLANG… something broke. It was loud too… and well… we got stranded on the freeway… Oh NO in a red Mav er Rick.

We had to get towed… And that’s when it happened… my first SHADE TREE MECHANIC experience. Oh my gosh… it’s like... where do they find those guys… prison! The muscles are like... outstanding. And they’re always greasy and like… dirty and like… (gulping for air) excited to be working for CASH on your car… (shivering). I mean they will fix ANYTHING for 25 bucks. 


A tune up. Oil Change. Water Pump. Shoot BUSTED Manifold… I mean you name it… 25 bucks will get it fixed for you. And I mean at 180 bucks for the car… I needed EVERYTHING fixed … at least once.

It seemed after that, the cars came in a blur… 200 dollars here… 500 dollars there…impalas with bad alternators, Buicks with some kinda thermal sumthin’ sumthan’ outta whacky in the engine that caused it to die at stop lights… ugh…that just was like… well let’s just say it was a lemon…They all were lemons… it was almost like I was addicted to buckets… because I knew… Mr. ShadeTree would be there… all I needed was 25 bucks!

Then it happened, I bought a car from my Brother… I paid 1600 dollars for it. Ohhh it was a Datsun and it ran gooooood. I remember even having the engine cleaned on that bad boy… I wanted to keep it perfect, I mean, it was from my brother and I wanted him to KNOW I was taking good care of his baby. SO when I found the transmission slipping and starter screeching… and the brakes… GONE… (yeah I’m kinda hard on a car) I took it… (gasp) to the SHOP. 


I will never forget that. I remember that day Mr. Shade Tree strolled by, stroking the busted taillight and looking all under ‘Baby’s’ hood… with so much WANT in his eyes… asking me… with that biggo purdy smile and gold tooth … oh and tattoo and all that greaaaaase… “what’s wrong wit it?”

And I had to tell him… “I’m taking it to the shop tomorrow to find out.”

Uuuuughhh it tore him up… it tore me up… it was a bad scene. But I couldn’t trust my Brother’s hand me down to just anybody! I mean… I couldn’t right? Soo… we went to the shop.

When I pulled in I was nervous. I remember thinking… what’s gonna happen. I mean, how much is this gonna cost? I mean, I only had like 250 bucks and I’d heard about these guys… they weren’t like the boys from home…

What was gonna happen (said in a scared whisper).

“well, I can’t legally let you leave. You have no break drum… so that’s some bucks right there. Annnnd… well your starter is just about gone…that’s another bit a change right there. You need a tune up…so, we can do that while we’re under there and well…”

“I don’t have that kinda money! I…only have 250 bucks!” I blurted.

“Sold…” he said excitedly.

And that’s when I learned you NEVER tell a mechanic how much money you have or that’s how much it will cost you.

…and dude wasn’t even that cute.

After that I was shell shocked to say the least but not Baby she was sprung… she was sprung on the professional mechanic. I know this because 3 months later she fell out. Okay well I did accidentally set the engine on fire… I don’t know how.. paaaalease I know you aren’t asking me that… anyway… but after that she was just trying to have all kinds of issues. I kept taking her back and back and back—tune up, enema, douches, pedicures, and manicures… glasses… ugh… 


I mean even got her some new shoes and mess… until finally my husband at the time… just like… sold her. SOLD HER… I came home and she was like GONE and he didn’t even give me the MONEY! He just sold her like she was HIS… I was like… noooo… and worse than that, he replaced her with a STICK SHIFT CAR… yeah... no name… just some ugly beat up two toned… stick shift car that I could barely drive! Dang thing had bad feet and was always needing shoes … every time I got in... it was on flat. I was like...what the haaaail…

That car was so significant to downfall of that relationship. He bought a BRAND NEW car and I got that stick shift car… matter of fact… during that 7 years of hell he bought 2 brand new cars… and sold the stick shift car from under me…leaving me with ... nada!

I had to BORROW his car when I needed to go somewhere…

Talk about a full circle... here I was again 5.7 and broad… squeezed into a little bit of a car… an ASPIRE… with a stick shift… and three almost grown children.

That was it! I divorced him and the car… to blazes with them both.

Breathe

The green Tracer…that was next.  I bought it mostly for my kids. They were learning to drive then and needed something. I never liked the car and it had issues from JUMP but needless to say… Mr. Shade Tree had never forgiven me and was hard to find these days… me and my kids drove that Tracer into the ground and it ended up nearly exploding on the Grapevine… we coasted down to the valley where my mother lives and I parked it. All hope was gone…

OOOOHWEEE it was almost like a movie. I was sitting at my uncles one night… looking at my busted car in his driveway hearing him complain about having to get rid of it… heck he even put a FOR SALE sign in the window… planning to sell it without even TELLING ME… OMG… what is up with that… so we were arguing a little bit about that when… I hear…

“What’s wrong it it?”

MY head about SNAPPED OFF …. Oh My GOSH… he was tall, muscular, and greeeeeeeaaaasy… (gulp).

“I don’t know.”

“Well… I can look at it 25 dollas…”

HOOOOOLY CROW…. It was MR. SHADE TREE… oh my gosh… “YES! YEEEEES!”

Oooh what a good job he did on me… I mean… My car… WHEW

Pant pant pant…

“Your FLIBLEDYGIB (or whatever he would say) is busted… it’s gonna cost ja…”

“Yeah… whatever… just FIX IT” I replied… knowing I now carried CASH…just in case he needed 25 dollar for something.

The green Tracer lived on for another three or four years… carried my grandchildren from the hospital… finally she was stolen, wreaked and abandoned on a back street in Sacramento … with the steering wheel missing (sigh).

The colt was short lived… gave it to my son… the ASTRO VAN… yeah biggo ASTRO VAN… bought from another ex for 500 bucks… got us safely from Sacramento to Oregon with my daughter and her newborns babies before the air conditioner blew up and we had to say good-bye.

Not counting the cars I bought for my children… buck, impala, intrepid, another van or two, some sports car for my son… all kinds of mess… I decided no more cars for me… I was done. There would never be another Mr. Shade Tree like the one that stayed in that small city where my mom lived. I mean that Mechanic had me bringing LEMONAIDE out to him in the HOT HOT sun… and those folks from that area know when I say hot I’m not JOKIN… it’s flippin HOT… oooh I did it just to watch him sweat…

Pant pant…

Merlot....
The year was 2009. I was working way out in the middle WHO KNOWS WHERE… and it was due to start snowing anytime. I was tired of catching colds and feeling old… I needed a car.

Man! That was a tough decision to make… and as I cruised through Craigslists, I remembered all the steering wheels that had turned under my caress. It made me wonder who / what would be next, what would be her name, and my biggest concern being, who would care for her once I got her home. I mean, I was older now and much wiser, I looked into AAA and Farmer’s Insurance and stuff like that but, I mean, who… who was gonna… be the one to FIX HER… TUNER HER UP… care for her NEEDS.

When I brought Merlot home… my burgundy Taurus… I was scared. She had under 100K on her but still, I knew soon she would need a mechanic.

Today was the day and I have to admit… she was ready. I hadn’t given her a bath but that’s okay the Jiffy Lube guys got all in there and took care of that…

Sure… these guys were no Mr. Shade Tree but they lubed her all up and rubbed her all down in record time…

They were smooth and muscular… and even kinda greasy in a white collar kinda way… and well I even bought her a filter or two extra just to make sure she was ‘okay’ when we got back on the road. It was on sale for 25 bucks.

It was just a little something to make me remember the day when that was ALL it cost to get back on the road.

5 am in the morning... and other redundancies.

This morning I woke up naked. The day started really early too, and I was dazed and confused, but yep… I was naked and in Stilettos, but still all that meant was that I had to get up and start thinking way before my brain was awake.

Nonetheless, as my life goes, I made it through to what… 10:51 when I started this blog. A blog about being naked in stilettos… No…wait… let me get this right. I started this blog at 9:00am but had to take a call, think about coffee (again) oh put on some clothes (can’t go to the cleaners naked in stilettos) sorted the cleaning bag—umm, NO, you’re not sending THAT to the cleaners—went to the cleaners, thought about going into *BLEECH Albertsons.

Here is the skinny on Albertsons: Me and Albertsons have not been getting along now for weeks. I’m not sure why but I think it had something to do with their absence of mustard greens when I needed them. Okay so I gave them another shot and guess what… no Portabellas… Yes I’m ultra forgiving and tried them YET one mo gin and guess what… they charged me 4 bucks for pickled ginger when my regular store only charges me 2.50. So yeah, me and Albertson’s are on the outs right now… for sure.

Annnnyway, so I didn’t go in there because I’m trying to not spend any more money after my $21.29 dollar shopping spree yesterday at Goodwill. But I found the perfect dress. Okay so it’s not perfect perfect because it’s white but it’s like perfect okay. I wonder if I can dye it… no worries. I’ll wear it white if I have to. It’s gonna be under all that regalia. Ahhh graduation, I can almost smell it.

I was starting to freak out and panic this week, as the words Oral Defense actually crossed my ears with a bite of reality behind it. I’m a PhD student. What does that meaaaaan! Okay, for me, I’m hoping it means that I can actually finally get recognition for something I’ve been doing for over 35 years, workin. You know how it is, you work and work doing the same thing but people act like you still need to ‘apply’ to do it, and be weighed on whether or not you know how to do it… come on! With each baby you aren’t asked if you know how to give birth. You do it once or twice and there ya go… you’re an expert. But no, I have to get this degree that says, YES I know how to do what I’ve been doing for a really long friggin’ time… oh OH! Don’t get me started, I’m getting tense again. I reached for Pie and none was there, I reached for chocolate and heyyyy none was there… what’s up with this healthy house stuff. I’m about to freak out and all I could find was a bunch of healthy stuff.

Okay so here is another weird thing… I always get support commuting home on the weekends. Why this weekend, since I’ve decided to go by train and I’m worried that I won’t get support. I’m so whacked out and stressed! Just book the daggone ticket, Michelle! You waited too bloody long already and missed out on your student discount! UGH… sooo dumb acting sometimes. Okay so now the Amtrak page is open and I still have not booked my ticket.

I’m realizing this is a lot to do before noon. Holy Crow, it not even noon and I’m exhausted. I’ve not even played a healthy round or 40 of bejeweled, but no matter, I’ve tweeted until I’m blue in the face, had a nice ‘tense’ banter with a reviewer, pondered my next bestselling novel (to be written on the train BTW—yes I booked my doggone ticket) thought about what I’m cooking for dinner and other fantastic things I can do either naked and in stilettos.

©2010 michelle mcgriff