shenae.com

Things are going well with the new apartment.  The few friends who have come by like the layout and the open feeling when there.  I just wish I had more furniture. I am focusing on decorating it, and putting something on the walls! I went from owning a 2BR/1.5BA with a basement and a deck in Baltimore to renting a studio apartment with an eat-in kitchen in Miami Beach.  I’ve given away or sold most of my furniture from previous residences so I’m starting from scratch.  My place looks like a serial killer lives there, with a mattress on the floor, a tv, a pitifully small futon, and a desk. There is no table to eat on and I have two forks, two spoons, two plates, two knives, etc.  If more than one person comes over, I have to eat off paper plates. I strongly believe the word minimalism really means having no furniture and barewalls because you’re broke.

Things you should know: I decided not to buy my apartment because I don’t qualify for a loan and I couldn’t afford it.  I was already annoyed that I didn’t have hot water for 13 days, so I just didn’t want to live here anymore.  I got a new apartment which is closer to both jobs.  Speaking of which, my hours were cut from Jobby Job #1, and even though I picked up more hours at Jobby Job #2, I’m still not making the money I used to make.

Things you shouldn’t know: I’ve been on some dates, been out with friends from work and other social activities.  I was hoping that my social life and dating life would improve, but it’s been up and down.  More on the dating aspect at another time.

So for now, I’m packing, I move next week.

I know that everyone is running around talking smack about Michael Jackson or crying like a baby. We were all taught to respect the dead and not say anything bad about them.  But I’m going to get it out of my system, some sort of purge, if you must label it:

MJ was brilliant. This man created words like shomon or PYT and used slang like tenderoni in songs before LOL or evoo. Don’t get me started about Jesus Juice….

Who else could have hits with Mick Jagger, Sheryl Crow, Slash and Paul McCartney? Anyone who worked with him was guaranteed a hit.  Hello, Sheryl Crow toured with him before Tuesday Night Music Club, before all the grammys, and those were her legs in the Dirty Diana video. He put Vincent Price on the song Thriller…and it sold…big time.  

Who else could rock one glove? Kanye West couldn’t.  Who else could be in a music video with a glittery sequined shirt, sequined pants and boots, and a Jheri curl in front of a strobe light and not be considered gay? Michael fucking Jackson did.   

Angelina Jolie had nothing on his charitable contributions. The man wrote We are the World and Heal the World and put his money where his mouth his. He had one fucking house, granted it was a big one, but he opened it up to kids. There was none of this running around buying a house in every fucking country. He stayed at hotels or friends’ houses and he donated so much cash, even now from his will. He only had 3 kids, not a litter. I don’t care if his kids aren’t his or whatever.  Those kids made their own beds and were respectful. He had kids of every color, every size, every sickness, over to his house for parties and movies.

Michael Jackson grew up fast.  He was 11 years old when he sang on the Ed Sullivan show. Before that, the Jackson Five was the opening band at dance halls and strip clubs. Yes, I said strip clubs, and he was singing songs about love, sex, emotions, and jealousy. Not to mention, he endured the beatings from his dad.  So I could see why he named his entire enclave Neverland. Chasing after that childhood innocence for all those years and being around children, sure he looked like a pedophile. But if I had a choice of letting my son spend time with Michael Jackson or let my daughter spend time with one of the Jonas Brothers, I would pick MJ.  Promise ring my ass.

He was, and always will be, the King of Pop.  This man united people from all countries way before Madonna did.  There was Michael mania, worse than the Beatles, even worse than the George Clooney, Brad Pitt or Robert Pattinson. There was pandemonium wherever he went.  And it wasn’t like girls were chasing after him, it was kids,  and everyone of every age. He was respected, and he will be sorely missed. But for me, my heart will hold a place for him, the black MJ, the white MJ, the Wacko Jacko, all of him. And his music will always speak to me.

I have been on MySpace since 2004 and FaceBook since 2005.  And now I rule because I have been on Twitter since 2007.  Oh yeah, check yourself before you wreck yourself, I am on top of many a trend, before Oprah, before Ashton Kutcher, there was Achixanthem.  I have incorporated my Twitter feeds in the handy dandy side bar on this site.  I love Twitter! It’s so fast, so easy, so gratifying.  For those of you under a rock, here is some info on all that is Twitter.

Yes, I have my face mask, and I will chase all my shots of tequila with hand sanitizer.  Enjoy the Mexican holiday that was ruined by some horny farmer who pulled a dirty sanchez on a pig. Ole!

After a long day of work, followed by a trip to the grocery store, I was finally home. Imagine my surprise when a seemingly gracious cockroach offered to help me with my bags.  I said no to him, as I unlocked the door, and then he proceeded to enter the main door of my apartment building.  I was pissed.  I told the little critter to beat it.  He refused, and began to ask me questions about my apartment, as in was it clean and how my kitchen was.  I went to unlock my door and he scuttled underneath the door with no problem.  At that time, I was done being nice.  I started screaming “Get out!” while trying to step on him.  He continued to run around, complimenting me on how clean my apartment was and asking me what I was making for dinner. With a shoe in one hand, followed by a stomp, the trespasser was dead.

This is one of the reasons I hate Florida.  There are more cockroaches here than in New York.  They are called “palmetto bugs” here, I am guessing to make it sound less negative, but no, they are still disgusting cockroaches, no matter what you call them.  And these little heathens will fly into you, crawl over your feet and ask if you have anything to drink in your home. Lucky for me, I have central a/c, so the critters can’t crawl in through the cracks or anything, just the one under my front door.  I’m still deciding if I want to buy my place, because it’s super cheap, but it needs some work.  And paint, a new bathtub, a new oven…ugh.

One work colleague is an amazing photographer.  Another co-worker does wonderful drawings, and yet another is a painter.  My best friend can read tarot cards and sometimes gets messages from the other side, you know, in the Ghost Whisperer/Medium kind of way.  So I asked myself, what is my special talent?  A long time ago, I thought it was my foreign language skills, and later on I thought I could work with computers.  Just a few years ago, I pictured myself as an excellent chef.  And now, I don’t know what to do. Drinking does not count as a talent, people. The uncanny ability to attract homeless men or dirty old men is a curse as far as I’m concerned.  Being funny?  Perhaps.  The ability to blog about food, travel and tv at the same time should be considered an art.  Meh…

my new purse obsession, courtesy of dailymail.co.uk

Listen, I’ve never been one of those girls who squeal at the sight of some wonderful outfit or fabulous shoes.  I’ve been broke most of my life and it’s true that if I die before 3pm tomorrow, I’ll have all the money I need. And I am the last person to give anyone fashion advice.  I live in jeans, t-shirts, and flats. But lately, things have changed, and I obsess over purses, and sometimes shoes.  I have the most beautiful Chloe Paddington purse, one Coach purse, and one Marc Jacobs purse.  I already posted info on the coveted Hermes bag, but now this Loewe ‘Calle’ that Posh glided through the airport with just blew me away. It could be dressed down with jeans or glammed up with a hot pencil skirt. Okay, I cannot believe those words just came out of my head.

I’m glad I got through Valentine’s Day, aka V-Day, without stabbing someone.  This is the worst excuse to buy a card ever.  Can I feel anymore single than on that day?  What the fuck with the smug couples who do all this last minute planning?  When I was in a relationship, I had all my plans made a month ahead of time.  There was none of this calling restaurants on V-Day, or trying to schedule a massage the day before.  It’s unbelievable how lazy and stupid couples are, especially men.  I know that many people say every day should be Valentine’s Day.  That is not fucking true, otherwise ladies would be getting flowers, chocolate and some sort of jewelry every day.  Suck it up and make an effort to make the day special.  Or you could be like me: snuggle up with a bottle of wine after a long day at work.

I canceled all my dating website subscriptions.  Checking them on a regular basis only wasted my time.  The quality of candidates went downhill since I joined the first dating website back in 20–*cough cough*.  So now I’m doing the opposite. I’m embracing spinsterhood.  I do things like watch The View, contemplate purchasing a purse from a tv commercial that has over 50 pockets, and I’m already using public transportation.  All I need is a muumuu, some ill-fitting pantyhose and 16 more cats and I will be an old maid.