Hubby and I were up late on account of the jet lag and found ourselves wide awake and a bit famished at a disrespectful hour.  So we snuck out of my mom's house like teenagers around 1:30 this morning to go for pancakes, of course. Now this is where ish gets interesting.

That blurry and quite unremarkable pic above is only significant because one of those shiny bald heads belongs to none other than Richard T. Jones from Tyler Perry's, Why Did I Get Married. You know, the one who had the gall to make Jill Scott find her own way to the couple's retreat.

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I am always in the search of something to add volume to my curly locs. I live for big hair and yes, size does matter. I can’t think of enough cliché comments to convey how I feel about it. “bigger is better”, “go big or go home”? For me, it’s not so much about length as it is volume nor is it about pure aesthetics because we’ve all seen some super dope twas, I used to rock one myself. I have very fine, low density hair so it takes some effort to get the big, disrespectful, intimidating coif I crave.
I just purchased myself an afro pick and let me tell you I was super pumped to use it! No, it’s not the blaxploitation, fisted handled tool with the heavy ass metal teeth we think of reminiscent of the 70s but it’s an afro pick just the same.

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A series of unfortunate events turned what should've been an 11 hour trip from Spain into nearly 24 hours of tomfoolery.  And despite the fact it was looking highly probable that we'd be holed up in Dallas for a night (with 100s of other hapless souls), I just knew I was gonna make it home to my Boogie.  No doubts. Not a worry.  I just smiled and kept a positive attitude, entirely undeterred by the thunderstorms, the hour long customs line, the cancelled connection, the delayed flight we were hoping to go standby on and the hour and a half we spent on the tarmac (after we finally scored seats!) waiting on a mechanic to return to his post.  *sigh*

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Being around people can be so exhausting.

I went to a baseball game last week as a team building activity with some new coworkers. The first thing I did upon entering the stadium was grab a drink. The idea of having to be conversant and interactive for the next few hours was extremely daunting. I really just wanted to go sit at my desk and work with my headphones on.

I wondered what we'd talk about. Would I have anything remotely in common with anyone? Would I put my foot in my mouth or offend anyone? Would there be any other black people there or would I be the only one? Would I be the only woman? I don't even like baseball. Would I feel weird and displaced the whole time? Uggghh.

I got another drink.

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