Dear SpeedDate January 25, 2009

Dear SpeedDate,

Just because I have a Facebook account does not mean you can send me emails about people that may or mayn’t be good for me to date. I’ve been doing fine on my own (SUCH A LIE, but whatever) and don’t need your help.

Back off and stop sending me emails.

Best,

The lady who loathes you

Please don’t ask me that again November 25, 2008

I have this thing about random guys asking me what my thanksgiving plans are. I don’t know you and you don’t know me.  I don’t care about what you’re doing for Thanksgiving.  I only care about what I’m doing; making someone’s pets take embarrassing pictures (well I can’t take credit for this):

So please observe the following rules:

Rule #1: If I wanted to talk to you while we were dancing I would have said something to you first.

Rule #2: Don’t ask me the same question 5 times.  I’m sorry you’re drunk and can’t remember what happened 2 seconds ago.

Rule #3: Stop telling me your mom’s birthday is the day after mine. It’s getting creepy.

Rule #4: If I don’t answer my cell phone after five calls, don’t leave me a message. Just STOP CALLING ME! I gave you my number so I could walk away without you insulting me. Not because I liked you.

Funny Post!

I know when you (yes, you!) come over to The Tate Way you’re looking for the funny. It’s the hallmark around these parts; it’s how I got started.  Well hold onto your pants, I’m about to give you some good old fashion “I was at a club and this idiot said this to me”.

On Saturday night I was out with my awesomely awesome bff TKG and her sister (and sister’s friends). We were having a great time listening to the DJ and dancing amongst ourselves.  Then it happened: a random dude in ugly shoes, an ill-fitting outfit, and a BAD hat starts circling around us.  Hello Mr. Ugly Shoes, we DO NOT WANT want what you’re selling. Do. Not. Want.

I managed to hide for awhile as he danced his way around the crowd and eyed innocent women.  Then he grabbed my hand. I looked at him a little confused (surely you don’t know me, why are you touching me) wondering what he was going to say. All he wanted was to dance, or so I thought.

As we are dancing I see him staring at me (note: I look at the ceiling or floor when I dance) every time I look in his general direction.  Here’s the conversation that ensues:

Me: “What?”

Him: “What??”

Me: “You were looking at me”

Him: “I wasn’t looking at you. You were looking at me.”

Me: “I looked up and you were looking at me (STUPID!).”

Him: “Oh, I wanted to say you look nice.”

Me: “Thanks.”

Dancing contiunes. Well I’m kind of just standing there doing the two step and looking at TKG; begging for help with my eyes. So what I’m doing isn’t technically dancing. Then I see a guy ask TKG to dance and she says no.

Him: “See a Black woman don’t even want to dance with a Black man.”

Me: “So you’re saying that she’s not dancing with him because he’s black.”

Him: “Yes. If we were in Atlanta or Miami that would have never had happened.”

Me: “So if this were Atlanta or Miami she wouldn’t have said no?”

Him: “That’s not the point.”

Me: “What do you mean that’s not the point? You said she wouldn’t dance with him becasue he was Black.”

(Then the madness really takes over)

Him: “Ya’ll California women think ya’ll special. Ya’ll ain’t special. Most of ya’ll can’t even cook a good meal.”

That’s the part where I walked away. Granted, I don’t cook that often, but dude don’t be stupid and insult me and expect me to keep dancing with you.  You remind me of K-Ci (see photo below) and not in a good way.

“The funny” is brought to you courtesy of: Some people are just THAT stupid & I’m doing YOU a favor.

From the Mouths of Babes August 28, 2007

Picture this:
A sunny afternoon in New York City. A fantastically dressed gal is chatting on the phone while shopping. Then she sees him: football physique, dressed well, and of course he has his stunner shades on. But there’s one problem. Wait, I take that back, there are two problems: he looks like he just ran 20 blocks to get to the store and he opens his mouth and says this, “Can I use your phone?” Why? “So I can put my phone number in it.” Ummmm, how about a NO.

So, kids, next time you have a pick-up line you can’t wait to use, please be observant of yourself (profuse sweating is a guaranteed SHUT DOWN) and the lovely young lady you are speaking to (dude, I’m on the phone, so please stop talking to me).

Here’s the Thing August 21, 2007

Believe it or not, the other night my friend and I were rejected while mingling at a club.

Yes, I said it: REJECTED.

Imagine this scene: The two of us gals are standing around, talking to each other and a couple of other people we know. Then he walks up and starts talking to my friend. Immediately I hear her throw out the alternate name. Not a good sign for him. After she successfully stonewalls him, he moves onto me. I’m only like 1 foot away from her, but that means nothing to him.

The FIRST thing out of his mouth was, ” You could be Bow Wow’s little sister. Ya’ll got the same daddy?” Ummm, what? Then he continues to careen down the same path. “If you take a picture of him and take a picture of you and Photoshop them into the same picture, blah, blah, blah, I’m just saying.” Really? I ask him, doesn’t that seem like a lot of unnecessary work? He agrees, and tells me, I could still be Bow Wow’s little sister. About 20 minutes later he walks back up to me and grabs my hand and tries to walk me off with him. I don’t move and take my hand back. “Where are you taking me?”, I ask. He says, “To the top baby, to the top, if you want me to”. OMG, you did not just say that to me. I mean, that would have been cute/funny from a guy I was interested in, but coming from him it was a no go. Another 20 minutes passes, and he walks up to me and my friend and says, “This is the last time I’m going to talk to you two”, then he turns his back to us and does this hand waving, you got served, thing.

What the hell, is he for real?

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been rejected plenty of times, just not after giving the strongest signals EVER that I was not interested (and even the I’m not going anywhere with you, even to the dance floor speech). But, hey we all do what we have to do to save face in front of people we will never see again.

How about a Play Date? July 28, 2007

A play date? As opposed to a real date? “No”, he says. “I think it would be cool if our kids…” Okay, TIME OUT – TECHNICAL FOUL, buddy, TECHNICAL FOUL! What makes it okay for our kids to get together if we haven’t even been in the same place together for more than 3 hours. And no, you can’t count the time it took to drive to the restaurant and drive me home. So here’s what I say to the play date. Unless you are talking about us having a dress rehearsal for our date (which incidentally, I highly suggest), then I’m going to have to T you up and ask you to leave the game.