Monday, January 23, 2012

the blogger app

So I just discovered that I can post from my phone... now I don't have to remember stories until I get home and have time to type them up on my comPUTA...

Here is a photo for your viewing pleasures...

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

a nearly full moon & nothing good happens after 2am

The most important lesson I learned in 2011 was that nothing good happens after 2am, and that we should all just go to sleep by 2am. I didn't realize that's what I had learned until the other day when future Ted put things into perspective for me. Thanks Ted.

Ted, thinking "You're welcome Shelbs"
So the other night (Saturday) I went out with my friend Jenny. We were going to meet up with another friend who I will refer to as "Dreads" at some point during the night. We both really thought we wanted to go salsa/merengue/bachata dancing so we went to the usual place, which is usually lame these days.

Saturday was no exception.

When I realized that I was going to be followed around all night by a former client asking me about green cards and offering to buy me drinks, I refused to stay any longer. There was also a lady there wearing terribly tight jeans that appeared to be worn with a g-string on the outside. Yucky. I also found it quite amusing that a Napolean Dynamite type dude was tearing up the Latin dance floor in his super dorky rocker bottom sneakers very similar to the ones pictured below.

Bizarre. Things were getting very bizarre.

So we left.

We drove by another Latin dance club but were scared to go in because we weren't sure if it was shady and we didn't have any body guards with us.

So we opted out and met Dreads at another venue, which I assumed was some low key sports bar where I could get some french fries.


A girl I used to work with was doing coat check. Surprising but beneficial because she also watched my purse.

Minutes after we got there, drama broke out in the bathroom. Girl fight, get me outta here.

Then a guy I later found out I went to high school with, who claims to be a politician in Chicago (this is why he is not on FB) made some seemingly flattering comments about my hip and butt region. We both reminisced about our days as "Trojans," but I somehow forgot to tell him my favorite "Trojan" story, the "Your mom shoulda used a Trojan" story. Ahhh another day.

Then a fight broke out halfway into our drink and we all got into my car and headed to the bar that's open until 3. By "we all" I mean the politician and his friend, Jenny, Dreads and myself (the d.d.).

There I ran into a friend who informed us that another friend just left to go to the place we were afraid to enter. We would have had a body guard after all.

Then someone dropped their beer, which went crashing to the floor shattering into at least a dozen pieces. 

Then a fight broke out.

So we went upstairs.

Then more people were being escorted out by the bar body guard guys. 

Shady. But for some reason we stayed.

Despite all of the shadiness and drama, we had a good time and Jenny finally got to dance a little.

We called it a night just before three and everyone was tucked into their own beds in their respective homes.

Except well, the guys from Chicago. They disappeared halfway up the stairs to our final destination.

We still can't figure out if Dreads is Jamaican or not. He claims to be but when asked to speak with a Jamaican accent he said he lost it because he's been here nine years. Even with the Jamaican flag on your wall, not convinced buddy.

The entire night I kept reminding myself that "nothing good happens after two am..." 

I extended the two am rule to three but and as long as none of the drama was directly related to me, I can sleep peacefully.

The rule for 2012... NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS AFTER 2AM and always be extra careful when there's a full moon.

Monday, January 9, 2012

smokin' hot & a glowing ball of awesome... a letter of gratitude

I couldn't wait to get home from the Y tonight to post this. I mean, I almost just quit my strenuous workout of leisurely walking around the track to come home and type this up. But I didn't. I did however send a text to my mother with everything I needed to remember from the conversation I am about to share with you so as to not forget a word of it.

I would like to write this post in the form of a letter addressed to Herb & Sab(my parents), because let's be honest, this couldn't have happened without them.

Dear Mama and Daddy,

I know you're not together but I'm still going to write this joint letter. I'm not sure which address to send it to but I'll worry about that later. 

Tonight at the gym I was walking rather slowly around the track, not even breaking a sweat. My back hurt so I wasn't running as usual. But that's beside the point. Anyways, mid stride some very tall giant-like man, possibly in his forties, strutting a weight lifting belt, which I believe was for the purpose of holding up his ginormous belly, asked if I would stop a second so he could tell me something. I figured maybe he thought he knew me from somewhere or something, so unassumingly I stopped and allowed him to continue.
And this is how it went,

giantmanbigbelt: "I HAVE to tell you something and you may be offended or think I'm totally out of line but I have to say it. You can hit me if you want."

me: "uuuhhhm, ok, let me get ready..." (putting up my hand as if to get ready to slap him across the face)

giantmanwithbigbelt: (pointing to his left cheek) "Right here."

I then gave him a look to indicate I was ready for him to continue.

giantmanwithbigbelt: "You are HOT."

me: "uhhmm uh, ok. thanks?? :/

giantmanwithbigbelt: "I just, you are, there is just something about you that's extremely attractive. You don't even need makeup. You are just naturally very beautiful."

me: "um, thank you." 

giantmanwithbigbelt: "bla bla bla you are so beautiful and unique blabla bla."

me: "well, thank you. (awkward smile)"

walking away

giantmanwithbigbelt: "Now don't let your ego get too big now young lady!"

me: "ok"

Now, you may be asking yourself, "Shelb why are you writing us a letter about this?" Well, I just thought I would let you know how thankful I am that about 32 years ago you held hands for a second, which lead to my birth. I mean if it weren't for the two of you, who would I thank for being so smoking hot?

Also, don't be alarmed if I start selling photos of myself to pay the bills. Don't worry I will be fully dressed.

I guess urban dictionary was right.

Anyways, I hope you both know how much I love you and appreciate you. I mean how else could this glowing ball of beautiful awesome exist if it weren't for you?



p.s. I have also been getting a fare amount of compliments about my butt and hips these days, so thanks for that too.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

my future in the gran manzana

Remember when I went to New York City twice last year? I had a realization today while I was swimming about that incredible city.

2011 marked a NYC year for me. 

First, I discovered 30ROCK and became besties with Liz Lemon. She just understands me. I mean the woman makes me laugh until I am in tears and she has a terrible time with men. I miss her. 

Then I went to NYC for the first time since I was 14 and LOVED it, even though it was hotter than hell, smelled like garbage and a married Cuban man at the conference put the moves on me. I get that in G.R. though so I felt right at home. I had coffee with Liz Lemon and ate fried rice in China Town with Tracy Jordan. And someone told me that there is no green in NYC but believe me there is, right by the Hudson River. No bathrooms but there are bushes to hide behind at 3am.

Anyways, then while procrastinating, which I am doing now, I discovered Mad Men. Yet another tv show I was instantly hooked on and uncoincidentally takes place in NYC. I watched all five or six or however many seasons there are during my first month of unemployment. There is always a character I connect with. I can't stand waiting until the show starts up again to see what Peggy is up to.

Thirdly, I went to NYC again. The epic and unforgettable road trip of 2011. Despite the mishaps with parking tickets, impounds and roaming up and down central park avenue for hours... I still left the city in love.

Then, right as the year was about to end... I discovered How I Met Your Mother. And in less than a week I have watched three solid seasons.


What does this all mean? I don't watch television but the three shows I have somehow been united with are all set in NYC. It's a sign. I have this sense that if I were to move to the city I would drink a lot, be overwhelmed with all of the office affairs at my new job, laugh a lot and have a group of best friends that I do everything with. And they would all be single and it would be glorious. I would also walk a lot and save a hell of a lot of money on car insurance, car payments, parking tickets, speeding tickets and body shop repairs for dinging up my car while looking at things like homeless men trying to hide their stupid sign from the police sitting behind me. I am never giving another dime to a person claiming to be homeless again.

Call me heartless.

Now I just need to find a television show about Dominicans living in NYC and it will seal. the. deal. 

Sunday, January 1, 2012

based on a true story: part I: the cleaning lady

So last weekend was Christmas. I spent some time in the Lansing area and would like to highlight a few memorious moments. Names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.

A few days before Christmas I was contracted by my mom's friend Sandra to clean her house. Her daughter Roshanda and I went out the night before and I was so tired the next day from the lack of sleep that I had to take a nap on the side of the road. But that's beside the point. But what is not beside the point is that they called me while I was napping and they were driving on the same road as me and only a couple of miles ahead. So they pulled over and Roshanda drove me to their house while I gave her a lesson in how to drive a manual shift car and played LMFAO as loud as possible. I didn't get the hint that she had a headache when she said, "Aren't you hungover? Don't you have a headache?" I just said, "Oh, no, I'm just severely nautious."

Here is some dialogue from cleaning day:

Me: "Oh hi Frank, you are a lot cuter than the last time I saw you when you were 8." (to Roshanda's brother who I babysat a few times)

Me: "Where are those cookies you were talking about?"

Sandra: "They are in the pantry, help yourself."

Me: "Do they have butter?"

Sandra: "Nope!"

Me: "Perfect. Do you have any toast?"

20 minutes later doubled over the kitchen counter...

Me: "So, I think I'll start with the bathrooms."

Roshanda: "It would be nice if you just started."


Frank: "So how rich are you guys that you can afford a white cleaning lady?"

Sandra: "Ok we're going to go out to dinner, we'll be back in a little while."

Frank: "Where should I put the nanny camera?"

They all returned a little while later and found me sleeping on the couch.

I allegedly missed some dust under the television.

Sandra threw some money at me and I put it in my pocket.

Sandra: "Just like a good hooker!"

The end.