What is New York doing to me?

Date- This Past Saturday:

After a morning of laying around the apartment in pajamas, Phil and I decided to brave the cold and go out for lunch. Granted our restaurant of choice happened to be two storefronts down from our building but nevertheless, it was out (and they have yummy Spanish food). Well, turns out we should have wandered a little farther...

A few minutes after we sat down, Phil felt something fall on his back. Truth be told, I thought he was imagining things so my response was the standard eye roll. Between ordering and the food arriving, Phil took off this jacket and hung it on the back of his chair.

FIVE MINUTES LATER-

So here I am enjoying my spanish rice and chicken saltado, when the unthinkable happens. Out from under my plate shoots a FUCKING roach!

Yes ladies and gentlemen, your common disgusting house pest (whose likeness is seen above) found its way to my table and was running at lightening speed towards me! WHAT THE FUCK!!! By the way, it is Phil's theory that it fell out of the vent, onto the back of his jacket, and up the tablecloth.

Now normally I would run like the sissy punk that I am, but this time my animalistic nature took over! You see, being with Phil has turned me into an assassin of all things creepy and crawly. I grabbed my napkin and scooped up the little bastard in about seven nanoseconds. At this point, I look up and see Phil has gotten up and is sorta looking like he is headed for the hills. Apparently, I let out a warning yelp before kill mode set in.

But it is not over yet. I call the server over and explain that I have a roach in a napkin. She replies "Oh, no problem" before taking the balled up paper out of my hand. Ummmm, wait did she just say "NO PROBLEM" when there was a roach on MY table? Ahhhhhhhhhhhh...

Here comes the saddest and weirdest part of all. We kept eating. I saw a roach on my table, killed it, and kept eating. I was not in a third world country. I was not a starving person. But the food was damn good!

What the hell is wrong with me? Has New York really messed me up that bad? If I was in Atlanta, I would have not only walked out but I would have talked to the manager. But for some reason, I did none of this. I simply finished my meal and enjoyed the afternoon. Clearly, something has happened to me... PLEASE HELP!

TRC- Imitation is suicide...

Is that my blood?

I read a lot of books as a child! In fact, I used to own the entire Babysitter's Club series (I was so lame). Needless to say, my parents were the protective type and my mom might have been a tad paranoid that any ordinary childhood injury would lead to my immediate demise. I would definitely say that much of her paranoia has rubbed off on me as I still am terrified of heights, water, falling, etc. Hell, I am afraid of anything or any situation that could cause physical pain.

The only problem is that I might be one of the clumsiest people on the planet Earth.

Exhibit A: my first busted lip-

I am 26 years old with a professional career, and a non-abusive boyfriend. What the hell am I doing with a bloody lip? Well, I literally punched myself in the face with Phil's fist.

Exhibit B: The deadly weapon-




Seriously! I moved his fist into my lip by freakin' accident and my mouth started to gush this red liquid. Not only was I shocked to see blood but I was more surprised that I wasn't in tears. Apparently, bloody lips don't hurt. I did however find out that they bleed forever unless you rinse your mouth with Listerine. The man with the fist clued me into this trick after five minutes of me sticking Bounty behind my gums.

Anyway, I am secretly kinda proud of my busted lip as it is a symbol of my scrappiness (or my clumsy ass, whichever). I suppose the moral of the story is it is never too late to experience the childhood issues that I missed out on - even a bloody face.


TRC- Imitation is suicide...

Wasn't this against the "If he wins" rules?

Okay so I was in Atlanta over the weekend and the FUNNIEST thing ever happened. Rachel (my best friend) and I were running late to a get-together that I coordinated (like, three hours late) and we still didn't have the ingredients necessary to make the dish we planned. Because we were in a rush, we decided to run to a Super Wal-Mart to pick up the last minute goodies.

***PAUSE- Before I continue with this story, it is essential for me to pause and explain a few things. Rachel loves her some Obama and not like a normal voter. She campaigned for him, contributed financially, knocked on doors nationwide, called folks from her home, hell she even has pictures with him and Michelle! Yeah, I was hating on the pics too! But Rachel also happens to be one of the classiest women I know. Doesn't she look pretty normal? Just wait...




*** RESUME- We were going to Eagles Landing for the get-together. Now if you don't know Georgia, that is about 40 minutes south of Atlanta. While Atlanta might have a large African-American population, Eagles Landing is FILLED with McCain voting, Confederate flag waving, white people (not progressive, liberal white folks).

So we run into this country ass Wal-Mart in Eagles Landing and Rachel lost her Obama loving mind. While standing in the checkout line, she takes a look around and suddenly finds it appropriate to get the HOLY GHOST and start shouting "Obama, Obama, Obama."

Here I am in complete and utter shock while watching white people look at us with sheer disgust. What does Traci do? I pulled out my Blackberry and started taking pictures of her shenanigans! It was too funny not to document. I wish I knew how to videotape...

Enjoy the pic and note the lady in front of us with the "camo gear." She was REALLY pissed!





TRC- Imitation is suicide

After the Ball

On the morning of January 21st (after the cameras and the glamorous ball), when President Obama walks into his Oval Office for the first time, what do you think will happen?

In my head, I envision him alone and looking around for a few seconds. Once he realizes where the hell he is, I would like to imagine him busting out with the moonwalk or an 80's break dance in the center of the room. Maybe Michelle comes in and Jay Z's "99 Problems" starts blasting in every room of the White House and they dance like they are on the way to the club! Not because he is some ghetto bastard but because we all know that's what we would do. Besides, we all saw that pound she gave him in the primaries.

I am not even suggesting that this lasts for longer than five minutes. After all, he has a bunch of ignorant ass policy to toss out ASAP! But you must admit that after a long campaign, pulling this transition team together, and appointing Cabinet members, the brotha deserves a minute to enjoy himself properly. So break dance Barack, and while you are at it, you and Michelle christen that office right. Bill and Monica did a half ass job.

TRC- Imitation is suicide...

Bombs over Baghdad... The Depressing Truth

My morning ritual always includes coffee and a newspaper. I usually enjoy both on the ride into work. This morning was much of the same until I came across the following article:

Teen bomber rips Baghdad-

A 13 year old girl became the latest suicide bomber to bring carnage to Baghdad yesterday. An explosion damaged a bus full of schoolgirls and as a crowd gathered around the wreckage, the 13 year old detonated a suicide bomb. All told, 31 died and 71 were injured.

As a professional who has dedicated her career to adolescent development (with a special interest in females), this blurb brought tears to my eyes. I am pretty well informed (thanks to the PBS special "Bush's War) when it comes to the Iraq War. I have seen plenty of articles about Islamic extremists using women and children to carry out terrorism throughout Iraq. My eyes have poured through a few pieces on adolescent females and suicide bombings.

I can't help but to think- DAMN! When I was 13, I was worried about if Jeremy Hughes was ever going to notice my existence. I know that there is a huge cultural difference but there is NO way that it is developmentally feasible that this girl went into a crowd and blew up her classmates and bystanders without being coerced into it. Seriously, how INSANE is it that this girl blows herself up and kills 30 people at 13? Acts such as this one, do not anger me. They only succeed in making me so sad for the little girl who has been strapped with a bomb and told by a trustworthy adult that this is her destiny.

How scared did she have to be in the moments before pressing the detonator? Did she have second thoughts? Did she look over and see one of her best friends before she blew everyone up? Was she nervously biting her nails in the minutes preceding the first explosion? So many questions run through my mind when I think about this case. Questions that will never be answered but that are only human to ask. While it may not be "American" to feel anguish over a dead terrorist, I found myself paralyzed with grief this morning. Poor girl, poor world.

TRC- Imitation is suicide...

Sidenote: If you ever have an afternoon to spare (and you are a nerd like me), try to watch that PBS special. It will give you all the information you could ever need to know about the war in Iraq. It is simply amazing.

Panties, Please!

Dear Random Subway Man,

As you can probably guess by looking at me, I do not have a penis or testicles. I was born a female thus, I have no idea what it is like to walk around all day with external organs between my legs. The closest comparison would be my breasts.

Now, for these said breasts, there is an article of clothing (called a bra) that helps keep them in place. Bras come in all different shapes and sizes so that a woman can choose the one that best suits her lifestyle and attire. Bras are great!

I believe that I might have seen a product that supports those organs that I do not possess. Hanes and Fruit of the Loom are just two of the brands that come to mind. Sir, I am referring to good old fashion DRAWS!!!! Yes, I am talking to you! It seems to me that you have forgotten this basic article of clothing since you find it necessary to adjust and move your balls around every 8 seconds.

It is quite distracting, not to mention vomit-inducing, to watch as you linger in front of me grabbing the rail with one hand and your crotch with the other.

Maybe you really had to pee. You were doing a weird dance while jamming to your tape deck. Oh, they make these nifty little i-pods now too. Or maybe, you were trying to sexually harass me. That didn't work either since I could only come to the conclusion that you forgot to put on your panties this morning.

Either way, dude try not to forget in the future. You look like a complete idiot!

Smooches,

TRC- Imitation is suicide...

No more excuses...

"Excuses are the tools of the incompetent, which build monuments out of nothingness. Those indulge in excuses are seldom capable of anything else but excuses."

On November 4, 2008, 64 million Americans joined together to elect Senator Barack Obama as the 44th president of the United States of America. Nationwide, people of all colors cast their ballots and entrusted the future of our country to the brain and heart of a black man.

While I believe that the vast majority of African Americans realize the pivotal moment that we all experienced that night, I question whether we all understand the responsibility that comes with it. After all, if a black man with an absentee father (raised by his GRANDparents) is headed to the White House with his beautiful black family in tow, what excuses do we have?

In other words, gone are the days for blaming "the man" for your decisions. Gone is the reasoning for the lazy spirit that has lingered in many of our communities for generations. At least, they should be gone.

Many of the issues our communities face are not going to disappear. That will not change just because the president is black. What I hope will change is that these problems will no longer be looked at as an excuse NOT to succeed.

Your race should no longer be your crutch, regardless of whether you are black, white, purple or green. Race is quickly fading and the content of your character is carrying the weight. Indeed, Martin's dream is coming to fruition.

So with that said, who are you?

Are you the woman who blames the government for your cell phone getting cut off because they reduced your monthly welfare check (and you are pregnant with number five)?

Are you the man that blames our "fucked up" court system for your federal stint when you got caught with 8 kilos?

Or are you the (wo)man that recognizes you might have been born with a set of cards stacked against you and you actively find ways to transcend those obstacles? Not simply adding to them with foolish choices.

I ask this because quite frankly I am tired of the bullshit and the world has proven it is ready for Barack. The question is if our community ready for the REAL change?

Are we ready to take responsibility for ourselves? Ready to claim what was always ours for the taking- our futures? We have been waiting for the opportunity for centuries and now it is upon us. Barack Obama is a symbol of what is possible but is up to us to create our own destiny. He has simply broken through the pad-locked door. We helped him with every vote and every prayer. Now we must continue with the momentum and better the community that he represents to the world.

So I will ask you again- When no one is watching, who are you? Now, what about when the world is your audience?

TRC- Imitation is suicide...

Sidenote: I cannot end without taking the time to thank each and every white person who voted for Obama on Tuesday. I don't want to exclude all other nationalities but it is especially moving for me to see so many white people stand by this man. There was a time that he would have been lynched for looking at a white woman, and now they are voting for him to lead the free world. I think that blacks never thought they would see this day because we thought so many white people would never actually vote for a black man. We thought racism outweighed intellect. We were wrong. Our country is filled with people who could careless about the color of your skin as long as your actions are righteous and your intent is pure. I personally apologize for thinking otherwise.