Too tired to hide...

Let’s just say that today didn’t start off oh so good. It all stared when I woke up at 6 am (mental note, try to find a job that will allow for me to sleep in until 9 am). And now here I am, it’s 10 am and I am still waiting for the verizon people to come and fix my connection…

How can I blog you ask? Well it’s called Microsoft Word readers…I plan on typing here and then doing a cute little thing that I like to call “cut and paste” or wait, I didn’t make that up so technically I’m not allowed to say “cute little thing that I like to call” because everyone calls it that. Hmmmm….(Sorry, I’m tired, so this will be an interesting blog, that is if I don’t fall asleep on my laptop). Does anyone else hate waiting for repair people? I mean, if I had a job, I would have taken today off to wait for someone to show up between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm and they are okay with telling you that, YET if I were to tell them, “Hey I plan on paying my bill between July 13 and September 1,” they would have a royal fit and turn my stuff off. Hey what’s the difference between a royal fit and a regular fit? It’s not a joke, I was just curious…Awww…a cat just died….

That last line made me laugh. I guess I am always the most dangerous when I’m in a state where my inhibitions are lost and this is the case. Seriously, anytime any of you feel like hearing the hardcore truth from me, just find me when I’m tired, hyper, silly, or very relaxed. It’s funny to me because I always end up annoyed with myself the next day because I allowed for myself to “spill the beans.” Why is it so bad to spill beans? I mean, it’s a lot harder to clean up spilled milk, I guess that’s why people cry over it, but spilled beans? I eat a lot of beans and I have spilled them and it didn’t mean a thing…I just picked them up and called it a spilled beans day.

That last line is making me laugh…can’t see the screen, eyes are closing…LOL. Speaking of which, my friends still to this day make fun of the fact that my eyes are I guess you could say tiny….well not like 1 inches wide and 1 inches tall…can eyes be tall? I don’t know….Let’s just say that whenever I mention that somewhere down the line (waaaaaay down the line) my grandmother’s grandfather was Chinese they say, “Oh that’s where you get it from!”

Funny story about the eyes. I am a BAD movie goer! If the movie doesn’t capture my attention, I fall asleep. Well it’s the same when I’m watching a movie at my crib. My couch is sooo comfy so if I decide to turn of the lights and watch a movie, if I’m not into the movie I will wake up later talking about, “oh it’s over.” I know I had a story to tell here but first this one and then I will jump into the original story that I had for you guys (Does it sound confusing? Did it make sense? I’m not sure because I don’t really plan to edit this and I’m afraid that if I reread that line I will forget my story all together because I might stare at it and say, “What in the world?!”) Hmmmm…I think that last sentence was a run on sentence. Anywhoo….

First story. In college I ended up contracting the flu, which is something that rarely happens to me. Well, I was watching tv one night and I fell asleep while trying to watch “Boogie Nights.” Okay, well by the time I woke up, it was the ending scene with Mark Wahlberg talking to himself in the mirror. While I was watching this, I was thinking to myself, “What is he talking about? How long was I asleep?” At that point Mark stood up and pulled down his pants. Talk about a BAD image to see when you first wake up. I quickly reached for my remote and turned the tv off. I sat in the dark until I mustered up enough strength to walk to my room and crawl into bed. That was the first time I had the flu. I have been fluless eversince….Wait is fluless a word? Eh…who cares? When I’m sleepy I make up words too….OH WAIT…there was another story that I had tell you all…about my eyes and movies.

Well, in college one of my closest friends was this guy named Orlando. We hung out so much that he was actually able to predict my menses cycles…you think I’m kidding? He would walk up to me and say, I’m feeling crampy today, you’re getting your period tomorrow.” I would laugh at him, wake up the next day and then BOOOOOOOM! There it was. Scary, huh? Anyways, we would always watch movies together at my house or in my room and I would always fall asleep. Normally he would let me sleep and then make fun of me afterwards. This one time, he brought over a movie that he wanted me to see and so we began to watch it. Honestly, I wasn’t even tired at all. The movie had captured my attention and even though it was dark and we were snuggled close together, I was alert. Well he looks at me and smacked my arm! I looked at him and asked him, “what was that for?” He was like, “You were sleeping!” I told him that he was wrong but he didn’t believe me. He told me that he knew because my eyes were closed! I told him that if my eyes were closed I wouldn’t have seen him trying to study my face. Let’s just say that I ended up missing an important part of the movie not because I fell asleep but because I was arguing with him. Now before some of you get your drawers in an uproar, don’t sweat the fact that he hit me. It wasn’t that hard and besides, Orlando and I used to hitting each other a lot. When we were sophomores we both decided to kick the swearing habit. Well how can you do that? There isn’t a swearing patch and substituting swears for silly little words only last for so long when you are so used to saying the real thing (Let’s just say my mouth during my sophomore year of college wasn’t too lady like. Heck most of my male friends would blush when I got started), so we devised a plan where if you swore you got your hand smacked. Now now now….this wasn’t a little hand smack that you give a three year old. I’m talking you had to sit there with your hand out and wait for the person to wind up and smack it with all their might. It was quite painful actually and I think I got most of the hits…but when he dropped a four letter word, my hits always stung a few hours after…I guess I have the “mommy” hit….which is weird considering that I’m not a mom….but let’s not talk about this…I think my mom reads my blog every now and then and I don’t need to be giving her any ideas….especially after thanksgiving of 2004 when she told me that it was time for me to get married and give her a grand child!!! Exactly!!!! I’m like, “ummmm…can we leave my womb out of this conversation?” And yes, I know I will make a great mom, but I would make a greater mom if I take my time and do it the right way. And yes there is a right way. The day I tell the man who impregnated me (some how that’s making my face scrunch up in a not too good way) that I am having his baby, is a day that I hope he would never forget. I would want for it to be a happy occasion for him too! I don’t want to tell a guy that I’m bearing his child so he can respond, “Is it mine?” or “Are you keeping it?” or “I know it’s not mine Craig and ‘em told me you were sleeping around.” Well that last on I think I got it off of the talk shows that I used to watch in high school. I don’t want to have to drag a man on Maury just to prove to him that it’s his child. I expect tears, I expect dancing, I expect yelling, I expect a celebration and that’s just from me….I would like for him to join me in the crying happy yelling dance of the pregnant woman….I think I stepped a bit too far into the silly world with that one. But I would just want things to be cool for my child. My last memory of my pops was when I was 5. I think I told this story before, but I don’t have an internet connection so I can’t check. If you heard this story before, let your eyes gloss over a bit, that way you won’t have to read it again. For those who haven’t heard this story here it is:

I was 5 years old and I had just made a Father’s Day card for the sperm donator (He doesn’t deserve the title of “father” “dad” or anything else) and I think he called me or I called him on the phone. Well he told me that he was going to pick up his card and bring me some bubble gum, which made me very happy (hey I was 5 years old and I have always been the type of person where it’s the little things that make me happy in life). So I went downstairs and sat outside of my apartment and waited. I waited for hours and he never showed….my mom finally came downstairs and told me to come up because she didn’t think he was coming. And that was that. I had never heard from that coward again. He was man enough to make a baby but when it came to raising me and caring for me…he was just a selfish little boy (that’s the first time I said that…see what I mean about my inhibitions being lowered). Now before one of you (and there is always one) says, “Well Max, how do you know something didn’t happen to him? Well even if something did happen to him…he had 22 years to contact me and he didn’t. “Well Max how could he have contacted you?” There are way. If he really cared, he would have. Shoot, I have a very distinct first name. As a matter of fact, I use my nickname “Maxine” on here as well as other sites because it protects me. There are MANY Maxines but there seems to be only one person out there with my first name…trust me I google that name every 2-3 months to see if anyone else has it and spells it like me and I can’t find anyone, so trust me…if the sperm donator wanted to find me he could. Heck he was the one who gave me my name and that’s all he gave me.

So you see…what I experienced is the LAST thing I would want my child to experience and if I married a man who already has kids I would encourage him to make sure that his relationship with them was strong. There were there before me and I wouldn’t want anyone to go through what I went through at all. It’s not fun sometimes…and people pity me when they hear the story or their hearts break for me (though, my heart doesn’t break….wait, I think that last sentence might just be a lie because I’m feeling some sort of emotion over here…)

Sometimes when my mind is very quiet and my environment is very quiet I think about him. I wonder what could make him leave his own child? When I picture my wedding day, it hurts to know that I won’t have a father to give me away. Ha, these are emotions that I have only expressed to one or two people in my life and neither of them are my family. I wonder sometimes if his leaving affected the way I have relationships with men. I mean, I’m not the type of chick who is looking for a father figure….If I am calling you daddy, I’m using the fun sense of the word and not the, “Young lady you march yourself upstairs, you’re grounded” sense of the word….LOL. Okay I’m going to end this blog…I think I am definitely embarking on a TMI Violation (tmi = too much information). Besides I think I just figured out a way to catch a nap while waiting for the repair person….wish me luck!!!!!

Until then gorgeous and handsome readers *yawns*

Love, Peace, and Hair Grease!

Ya KNOW it! ;-)