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It was a Friday night out with the girls. The meatpacking district didn’t work out, since we had one guy and apparently when you are 25, you are washed up in the club world.

My friends decide to head to this semi urban club in Chelsea. When we arrive I was worried since the bouncer was letting in a large amount of fat ugly girls. I figured I would just leave early, since the ambiance looked mediocre and I had to be at work at 7am the next day.

But when inside the music was good and the drinks were flowing at our table.

As I was dancing on furniture in 5 inch heels (my club standard), I noticed these tall, minority gentlemen in the VIP area.

Upon further investigation and confirmation by the DJ it was Amare Stoudemire and Carmelo Anthony. (NBA players for those that don’t do sports). I was ecstatic!

No more football players, I’m going to be on VH1 Basketball Wives! 

I start giving my best sexy dance routine on the table….

When that did not work I attempt to sit and be cool…

By this time I am five patron shots in.

I see Amare pass by our table as my gay friend is all over me asking me to spell the players name for his blog.

I’m furious, because Amare is looking at me and this guy is all over me (a guy that doesn’t even like vaginas!)

I break free from my friend, cut pass security and hug Amare and drunkly slur out: ‘WELCOME TO NEW YORK!”…BY THE WAY, LEBRON AINT SHIT!”

He looks at me like poor drunk girl and I walk away, defeated.

Damn you alcohol!

As soon as Amare leaves the club, the lights turn on…its 4am!

Shit, I was supposed to leave early.

Instead I start driving home and get stuck in ridiculous night construction traffic.


I get off my exit and its 5.45am, I have work in an hour and am starving. So I drive out of my way to visit the 24 hour drive thru at McDonalds. I get to the window and order a Big Mac and fries.

The man says: “I’m sorry I can’t do that.”

So I say: “Ok, let me get something from the breakfast menu.”

He says: “No, you don’t understand we are closed.”

I’m about to go ape shit and scream: “WTF, how can a 24 hours drive thru be closed? This is false advertising! Does Obama know about this?!?”

He says: “I don’t know if Obama knows be we are always closed for an hour for our dinner to breakfast transition.”

I am furious!

And about to go ‘Chicken McNugget Lady’ ( on this McDonald.

Till I see that the Dunkin Doughnuts across the street is open.

I swallow my anger, drive across the street and order the left side of the menu.

I get home, inhale my breakfast, shower and head to work for my 12 hour shift…

So in summary. No NBA star, No McDonalds, 3 eggs sandwiches and the most miserable 12 hours of my life….




Dirty old man

My girlfriend and I went to a local bar for drinks to watch a Yankees game.

 During the game I was confused to see so many men in suits with earpieces. I was wondering if they were taping another installment of Men in Black or OBAMA was in town!

After realizing that neither Men in Black or Obama would come to the Bronx I was informed that Mayor Bloomberg was visiting the bar to watch the game as a part of his campaign for re-election.

While watching the game my eyes met with one of the ear pieced suits, who was secret security for the mayor. He had a nice build and light brown eyes. We flirted throughout the game. His co-workers joked around, continuing to question me on my age. I thought nothing of it, till our date.

For the date we went to an Italian restaurant in the Bronx (Please keep in mind I am a Manhattan girl so I was already annoyed). On the date it starts pouring buckets of rain outside, but we manage to make it to the restaurant ok.

As we order our drinks and food he tells me that he doesn’t drink alcohol (XX Fail XX) and is on some healthy man life diet (XFailX).

Two things I love in life are food and liquor. I proceed to order a glass of red wine and a huge plate of pasta. (I’m not playing, I know this meal is for free).

He is annoying me talking about himself. So I go through my normal speech:

“Any kids, fetuses, zygotes, baby mama’s, girlfriend, girlfriend in prison?”

He laughs, because I’m funny ;) and says:

“Yes I have children (XFailX).  I have a son who is 13years old”

 (I’m sweating and confused trying to figure out how to get out the restaurant in the rain)

“and I also have a 25 year old daughter.”

I cough and spit out my wine.

I am shocked, he seems fine.

I then ask: “Excuse me sir, how old are you?”

He responds: “45”

I go pale and start wondering if I just run to my car will I get soaked in the rain storm.

I then respond: “Um, excuse me how old do you think I am?”

He says: “I don’t know, probably in your early 30’s”

My head begins to spin and I correct him yelling: “I AM 25!”

He proceeds to eat dinner like I just didn’t say that I am as old as his daughter.

I am in a rage and panic all at the same time.

30’s, he thinks I’m in my 30’s?!

I must work too hard, damn the immigrant in me! I must drink too much.

This man thinks I’m old.

Most importantly after learning my true age he is ok with me being the same age as his daughter!

The next morning he sends me a picture of himself shirtless showing off his groin area/minus the money shot. I am even more disgusted and speechless.

So of course I go on a second date, LOL.

On the date he asks me about the picture he sent and I’m like:

“Thanks….I guess”. (I digress, but which demographic thinks that self inflicted naked pictures are a good idea to send someone?!? WTF)

Needless to say after the picture and the 2nd date I realized that I might have daddy issues but this psycho wasn’t the one to fix them.

Six months later, I am out with friends and around midnight I get this picture text from an unknown number. I open the text and find this grown man full Monty with a du-rag on with this unhealthy red tipped penis.

Of course I am disgusted therefore I show it to all my friends. The picture makes great cocktail conversation (pun, slightly intended)

Between the du- rag, the look on his face, the averaged size penis and the STD ridden pink penis tip, it’s the gift that keeps giving.

OOOO I sure know I to pick um…why am I single again. LOL.




In my past I survived “The Relationship.

You know the one I’m talking about.

The on and off relationship you have with ‘that guy’.

The guy that you love and he pretends he loves you, but always messes it up.

The guy that has met your family; spends major holidays with you and your family, but has a failure to officially commit.

The guy that you think just needs time to see how fabulous you are.

But in time he just continues with the same hot/cold behavior.

My ‘relationship’ with that ‘guy’ lasted three years.

After ruining two stable relationships I had with good guys.

Ruining a possible engagement.

After a pregnancy scare and a domestic abuse event we officially ended.

The domestic abuse event put me over the edge. No matter how much someone tells you they love you, they should never put their hands on you….PERIOD….FULL STOP!

When we ended… we did not speak or see each other for over two years. I made sure to cut all ties; mutual friends, hang out spots etc.

Initially I was so mad at him, if I saw him in the streets I would have broken a bottle and stabbed him in his face, then grabbed his special parts with a clamp, squeezed and turned many times; laughing in his face screaming ‘You know what you did!’…LOL. 

But I’m in a better place ;) Te he he.

Two years later at an urban elite BBQ, I was confronted by all ‘the guy’s’ friends. They all approached me with warm hugs and smiles asking where I had been and telling me they missed me.

I knew ‘the guy’ had to be close….and he was. He made sure to avoid me the entire day.

It was fine. I knew he was an asshole. 

Fast-forward to the fall. A friend had invited me to a lounge/ concert. Free liquor…free food. It was fabulous; great crowd, great music, good fun.

As the event progressed, I go for a drink at the bar and in the corner of my eye…I see a guy that looks familiar…
Inner Me: WTF was that 'the guy’…Nah…No way!
I get the drink and walk back
I look again at this dude, who is now intensely staring at his phone…almost purposefully not looking up.
Inner Me: Yes, yes, that is ‘the guy’….GRRRRRRR

I walk back to my friends and explain that the ‘that guy’ is here.
One of my close friends knows who I am talking about and is pissed…ready to kick ass.
I on the other hand do not want to be gansta and confront him with a posse.
I am in a better place.
I then explain our history to the rest of the group.
The rest of the group is horrified and want to kick his ass as well.

We mingle and immediately are a few feet away from ‘the guy’ and his posse.
Two members I do not recognize. The other is this lovely tall light skinned beauty (John). We met when I was on and off with ‘the guy’.
I told ‘the guy’ I would sleep with John…he told John to stay the hell away from me.

The stare off begins!
John is looking dead at me. ‘The guy’ is looking on and off.
I walk away, getting something from my bag (never backing down from a stare down)
When I return ‘the guy’ is looking relieved that I am gone but then realizes I am coming back and looks away.
The stare down continues…..

I win round one; ‘the guy’ and posse walk away.

Then while walking towards the bathroom with a friend, John (my light chocolate shake…RAR) takes my hand and pulls me out the crowd to say hi.
‘The guy’ is a foot away…I see him look back.
I give John a hug and kiss on the cheek. Ask him how he has been…chit chat.
I then realize my friend is gone and tell John it was nice seeing him and run away.

After returning from the bathroom…I tell the group the John update….the plot is thickening….

My close friend has on her leather gloves and is ready to throw down.
Then…’the guy’ comes from a different area and is walking towards me.
I immediately point at him and show the group…who he is.

By the time I look up again…’THE GUY’ IS BESIDE ME!

‘The Guy’: I figured I had to come over and say hi.

Me: Yeah, you know I’ve been talking shit about you.

‘The Guy’: Sorry I didn’t say hi before. I wasn’t sure if it was you
(Please keep in mind. I just have in a weave and a tan….I haven’t had drastic plastic surgery.)

Me: Um, whatever. You know you are an asshole. Hey everybody! This is ‘The Guy’…the asshole.
(He then proceeds to introduce himself to the group.)

‘The Guy’: Hi, I’m ‘The Guy’, the asshole.
(shakes hand)
Hi, I’m the asshole.
(shakes hand)

The Guy’: (to me) You know I wasn’t that big of an asshole.

Me: Come on…the shit in the end…big time asshole-ish

‘The Guy’: (he pauses and hesitates) Well…um…yeah. I was a different person (hesitate). It wasn’t a good point in my life. (mumbles) Sorry.

Well anyway, I just wanted to say hello.

Me: Ok, cool, lets just hug it out.

(Entourage reference, a show we would quote all the time.)

‘The Guy’: (Smiles) Let’s hug it out.

(We hug. He attempts to give a sentimental hug. I do a contact pat on the back hug.)

Me: (whispering in his ear while pat hugging) Fuck you; you are still an asshole.

‘The Guy’: (Smirks) Its good to know you haven’t changed.

He walks away.

I have won.
I’m on a high
I feel awesome.
I have a great night and meet a couple of guys while also having a photo shoot with the event’s photographer.

I pour some liquor on the ground to acknowledge my fallen sisters who could not see this moment of triumph.

I feel energized for world domination. I have had my redemption…a feat many girls do not get in life.

Now I plan on finding my light chocolate milkshake, John, to finish the deal!



Night Cap

After Shakira (my navigation system in my car) got me lost and two hours late, I made an appearance at a co-worker’s friend’s dinner party in the lower east side.I was invited for a 2nd meeting with his old school friend, who was a medical director at a hospital in Virginia. Upon meeting him the 1st time 6 months ago, I wasn’t interested and even if I could force myself to be I was not about to be a part of the long distance relationship thing.

As I arrive at the table, I see Mr. Virginia, my co-worker, and a few more of his friends. As they make room for me to sit and I order a glass of wine to calm my nerves, my eye catches this individual who seems bored, always looking through his blackberry and when he does interact with the group always has a sarcastic comment.

As dinner continues, I find out that my sarcastic interest is a writer for ESPN; I start to swoon. An educated man that can write, is sarcastic AND works for ESPN, throw a cookie in the mix and it would be my heaven. Once I hear this, I immediately start my plan of attack, as the set up date, Mr. Virginia watches. Even though Virginia is sitting right next to me and ESPN is across the table, I start a conversation with ESPN. Asking him how his meal is, throwing in some sports news, basically letting him know I am a chick the digs sports.

Toward the end of the meal, we are sharing a dessert across the table and I start planning our summer dates at Yankee games in box seats. Our check has arrived and the party starts to leave the table. The restaurant is small so there is no time to linger, I meet ESPN outside.

When he meets me outside, there is a problem…

I can see the top of his head and his eyes are at breast level. (I did have on 5 inch heels but…COME’ON MAN!)

As soon as he notices the height difference he says:

“God damn, you are one tall ass chick!”

“How’s the air up there, do you have problems with eagles landing on your head all the time?”

I start to chuckle because his delivery is excellent.

I like him, his personality saves him from the height defect. The next week I create a plan of attack to set up a date.

1st step was to be facebook friends. When that didn’t get a date request, I took more drastic measures texting my co-worker to ask if he was interested.

The next day I got a text and a date set up.

We decided to meet in Throgsneck at a semi –casual restaurant with good appetizers and drinks.

He was coming from Connecticut and unfamiliar with the area. Therefore he decides to show up an hour late.

Yes, an hour late. You must be wondering how I could be that stupid to wait that long.

#1. It was the NBA playoffs and I got caught up in the game

#2. It was a restaurant that I frequently attended so I could not walk out of there with no date after all the staff questioned me.

ESPN finally shows up and I am already two white sangrias in so I was toasted.

He proceeds to talk all about himself. How his job is great, his family is great, his mother is amazing…blah, blah blah. I am already nicely toasted as the 3rd drink arrived and frequently going to the bathroom due to my strong alcohol intake. Apparently I was also speaking in ‘keep it realisms’ because many times he would say, “Does just about anything come out your mouth?!?”

Finally, after much delay our appetizers arrive, the Cavs lose and our meal is finished so I can escape this narcissistic conversation.

I thank him for the meal and start to exit the restaurant. We both get up and ESPN’s head reaches my armpit (PLEASE KEEP IN MIND I MADE A CONSCIOUS EFFORT TO WEAR FLATS ON THIS DATE).

I am mortified! He also attempts to put his arm over my shoulder and has to go on his tippy toes to do so thus, deciding to hold my hand.

As he walks me to my car I ask, where did he park? He explains to me that he could not find a spot so he parked a mile away from the restaurant. Because I feel bad for the midget dumb ass, I offer to drive him to his car. While in the car he is making annoying, flirty comments about my ‘succulent legs’ and my body. I am officially disgusted and over him, wondering how drunk was I when I first met him to have even liked him.

When I get to his car he gets out the car asking: “What do you want to do now?” I am confused, because we just came from a bar/restaurant and it’s 12 in the morning.

So I inquire: “Would you like to go to another bar, get another drink?”

He says: “I was thinking a night cap at your house.”

I am now highly annoyed and can no longer be nice anymore and respond:

“Excuse me kind sir, but do you really think I would invite you to my house at this hour….

And if I was dumb enough to invite you to my house, do you really think I would sleep with you?


He then responds: “Let’s just see where the night will take us.”

I then start my car up and say: “Um, no thanks, good night kind sir” and speed off.

He never called again, but his facebook status that night was “missed the Cavs, missed the fight, and didn’t mind … too much”

I minded a lot…waste of time midget.



Nah Mean!

So after my busy 2010 of dysfunction, I decided to take a break, mind my business and let the guy come to me….

One night walking home from the gym, I meet this fellow. He calls to me and I look from the corner of my eye ready to give a roll of my eyes and a kiss of my teeth. However from the corner of my eye, he is kind of cute, tall, and with a nice build. I don’t know if it was the exhaustion from the gym or the low blood sugar, but I went over and we exchanged numbers.

Via text message and phone conversation he seems o.k. Maybe not boyfriend material, but I could at least sleep with him. So I decide I would like to meet him and make sure he is not a serial killer.

He organizes the date in City Island.

(Pause: For anyone not aware, City Island is an island dedicated to seafood restaurants. It’s definitely not Manhattan dining, but it has some tolerable places to eat.)

I arrive to the designated place a few minutes early. In the parking lot, I see a police car drive by and a group of girlfriends walk pass me screaming “I hate my husband, that n**** ain’t shit”. Then the same set of girlfriends stare at me up and down and say: “I ain’t mad boo, you aight”

To avoid the police activity and crazy heffers I walk into the establishment…

The first thing I hear: “ORDER NUMBER 110, COME GET YOUR FOOD” on an intercom.

I panic and frantically start looking around….

This is not a restaurant…it’s a CAFETERIA!

People are eating food on trays and there is a condiment’s station!

I run out the place in a frantic panic texting, gchating, emailing all my friends, “SOS, SOS, SOS”.

While trying to plan my escape, I am breaking out in hives.

Two seconds later, I receive a text: “I see you, I’m parking my car”.

Now I’m sweating while having a panic attack. Who takes some one to a place like this on a date?

OMG… he is… URBAN!

As he approaches, I attempt to calm myself and greet him. We walk into the ‘restaurant’ and he is not alarmed by the décor and proceeds to the cashier to order our food.

(YES, you buy your food upfront, like in McDonalds)

We get to the cashier and he tells me I can get whatever I want.

(HHHHHMMMMM…let me think: Fish and chips, shrimp and chips, or a cheeseburger…HHHMMMMM)

I roll my eyes and tell him to order whatever.

I then take a seat at the cafeteria table as he waits for our order number to be called.  

He returns with our ‘meal’ and attempts to make small talk.

Him: “Do you have any brothers and sisters?”


Me: Um, 3 brothers, 2 sisters.


At this point, I am utterly disgusted and decide to stay silent since the person on the overhead intercom was doing most of the talking. Most importantly, as soon as we sat he decided to end every sentence with ‘nah mean’.

 For example: “So, I was rushing to get here on time, nah mean….I like to keep myself together, nah mean…I hate lazy woman, nah mean”…ARRRGGGHHHHHH

After this shock and awe of ‘nah means’, He decides that we should head to the outside benches for some  ‘peace and quiet’.

(Pause: Please keep in mind this is 4th of July, City Island. For people not familiar, imagine the Puerto Rican day parade x10 with lots of spandex and leopard print)

When outside, I notice a huge scar on his hand and ask him, “How did that happen?”

He proceeds to tell me an enchanting story about a friend that owed him money…

He says, very calmly:

“My friend owed me money and was taking long to pay me back, nah mean. So I would call and text him for my money with no response, nah mean. So one day, my friend shows up to my house with a knife asking me, why I keep bothering him for my money, nah mean….So I choked him out, nah mean…I got my money back, nah mean”

I am back in a state of panic, now fearing for my life!

He says that he is going inside for a pina colada. I tell him I will wait outside.

As he heads to the bar, I look around and plan an escape; texting my friends for suggestions. One friend put it best “RUN!…RUN!”

When he returned, I could see the police car circling, so I decided this was my best time to make a move. I tell him it’s getting late (its 4pm on a Saturday) and it’s time for me to head out to some other BBQs.

He insists on coming with me to these alleged BBQ’s…I explain to him that they are in Brooklyn…deep in Brooklyn.

(For people who live in the Bronx, going to Brooklyn is like driving to Saudi Arabia)

He accepts my lie, gives me a hug and I run to my car.

While in my car wondering what went wrong in my life, I get a call…it’s him!

“Is that you in the white BMW?”

As I sit in my white BMW, I say: “What are you talking about?!?”

He says: "I saw you get in the car, I’m right behind you, nah mean…."

I’m sweating again and speed off. He rides behind me until we get off the island onto the main highway.

He calls and texts me multiple times…I don’t answer.

Sigh, I need to start being a dating snob again…nah mean.



Southern Comfort

On another one of my travels, I spent the weekend in South Beach, Miami at the Fontainebleu Hotel…lovely venue to relax and feel fabulous. During breakfast, I came across a tall gentleman. He did not seem like the help so I had to oblige when he called for my attention.

After some conversation and googling, I found out that this guy played for the NFL and was currently looking for a new team to play for. 

Of course, in my head I’m thinking JACKPOT! When do I get to quit my job and sit on the sideline or in the skybox with the rest of the wives….PAUSE.

We had a brief texting affair when we were leaving Miami, him back to D.C., me back to NYC. Things died down till a month later when I received a text that he would be flying into NYC for the weekend. 

Immediately, my mind got fluttered with dreams of fabulous dinners and a night out on the town. 

In reality, I was bombarded with broken English and southern slang. I did not receive the normal LOL, SMH abbreviated text messages.

More like WTF is this fool saying! He was speaking some strange bumble fuck language. I know these guys get hit in the head a lot, but OMG, his grammar was not above a slow 2nd grade level.

I tried to stay strong and be open minded… I’ve been told I have a bad habit of judging people. So I set up the date. It was his first time in NYC (country bumpkin) so I made reservations in the meat packing district.

Just to be on the safe side (since he seemed pretty urban), I told him he could not wear a t-shirt, sneakers or jeans to the venue. In true thug passion form, he freaks out and says he has to go to the mall and pick something up.

OMG who comes on a trip to NYC without club gear!! What do they wear out in D.C? Hoodies and Tims?!?!

Whatever the case, when I tell him the time and place, he decides that the meat packing district is too much work and I should just come to his hotel….

Um yeah, that sounds like an excellent idea….NOT!

He was too slow to waste my time.

After a couple of text messages and calls he got the point.