House, Senate Republicans Reach Deal on Patriot Act. The bigger news is Nip/Tuck guy told chica to put a bag over her face if he was going to bed her.

I always start by saying that it's been a while. Let's skip the dullness, shall we? Not that life has been to me what it's been for, say, Kevin Federline's hairdresser, but it's been one helluva year, I must say. Does this mean I've gotten wiser, seasoned, through hardship and adversity, realigning my priorities so I may one day soon achieve the right spiritual-social-economic balance every effed-up twenty-almost-thirty-something yearns for? Am I the CEO of a fortune 500 yet? Is my fro (hate that damn word) as big as Kelis'? Uh-huh. I'm proud to say I've become more bitter than I usually am. But my butt's still hot. Oh, and I'm even more broke...which reminds me, my recently made ex-boss has moved up to the top of my hit list, as I've informed everyone who'll give me an ear. Like I said, when I stage my corporate take-over of the world--or at least buy a small island from Oprah--I'll be sure to outfit his cell and get cellmate "Gertrude" a few nice lingerie items for their wedding night. Alternatively, I could simply wave to him when in a couple years he comes up to wash my car glass in traffic and say, "Hey, baldy!"--wait, that's both my ex-bosses--"Remember me? Here's a dollar. Now, don't spend it all at once, y'hear?" I'm sorry, people, but the guy's ass-ity was a little too troublesome, so I quit. Shysty...mmm, I've gotta hold back. Amazing, isn't it, that he actually bumped Baldy I down to #2 on my when-I-make-a-few-millions-or-at-least-marry-that-90-yr-old-billionaire-I-got-my-eye-on hit list. But my butt's still hot. I digress. Or do I?

Well, now that I quit the old J.O.B., I guess I once again got time to blog between school runs and hollering till I'm hoarse at THA KID. But before I delve into my own rantings, Nigerian On The Edge is an interesting blog by who I assume is probably a cool chica. Reading hers reminded me I had one too that's been DYING to hear about my not-so-hot life that

Sorry. Had a hankering for some left-over birthday cake (not mine) but opted for some left-over rice THA KID decided was his way of expressing his love for his mama. Oh yeah, forgot to mention that my son's with me now and determined to make me skip over the edge of my balcony one day. I swear he's trying to kill me. Wouldn't be a pretty sight all those floors down, but hey, I've lost like 14 lbs, so it can't be all that bad. Yeah, I lost weight FINALLY (I was sick, but who cares how I lost it!) and I'm not aiming to rack it back on. It's easier now, for some reason, to starve myself a bit. Just a couple months ago, I couldn't bear the hour between meals, leading to cousin c considering "fat queen" a fair and rather flattering assessment of my appearance at other cousin's wedding this spring. Well, at least I met--and I borrow this term from cool chica referred to above--hot dude there, albeit for a total of 6 hours...6 hours that Mr. I Can't Give You What You Need won't let me forget. Jeez. WE WERE ON A BREAK!!!

Hmm, it's been a year since I started this blog and, uh, did I really say, "String him up?" I still say so, but he's kinda back in the mix. Sigh. Sigh.

Sigh.

But dude was hot hot hot. (I'm sorry, had to say it again.)

HOTHOTHOT!!! I'll stop now. Especially since Mr. I Can't Give You What You Need may see this and recall him telling me how I was, in a word, wrong wrong wrong for even looking at the guy while we were on a break...all this vis-a-vis his other proclivities.

And the stories! Well, seeing that a few friends know where this blog is, I'm gonna have to start another one to divulge details. Nothing like the grapevine ruining the serenity one has achieved outside of the hollering, hyperactive kid's hollering and hyperactiveness. (That a word??)

There's a Murder, She Wrote marathon on right now and I'm psyched. I don't care what y'all say, I love the lady. Although, as you probably know, my prerequisite for being entertained via the tube is murder and a little mayhem. I'll take it in whatever form I can get it. Almost missed picking up THA KID from school cos of JB Fletcher. Damn. Lost my train of thought. Was hoping to say something witty and intellectual. Damn!

Well, back to Mr. I Can't Give You What You Need. Yeah, he's back. Been a year, actually. In that time, I've...hmmm, there I go again with the details. Is there anyway to change my blog address?? Suggestions welcome. But let's just say it's been eventful. And I'm still not getting married. Period. (Check back with me in a few months, though.)

I really did lose my train of thought. You'd think I'd stop now, but you'd be wrong. Oh yeah, I wanna move to NYC. Don't think their public school system is too hot, though. My social life is important, but I don't want THA KID learning math by selling two for five on the corner, as his daddy aptly put it. (Does mentioning my social life make me a bad mother? I don't know, but I haven't seen the inside of anything with music, save one house party @ Thanksgiving, in three months and it'll only get worse. Screw it. I'm sure one club'll have a daycare.)

But at the end of the day, I still got my butt. God is good.