The Tate Way

it’s worked so far

It starts right now February 6, 2009

GOODNESS! I’ve felt like  saying every cuss word know to man this week.  And I’ve been breaking most of my 50 rules for 2009.

So starting now, I’m back on track.

If you see me giving you the side eye it’s because you probably made me break a rule and I don’t like you for it. But, don’t worry I’ll get over it. Eventually.


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.


The lady who loathes you


Change the game? January 21, 2009

Excuse me if this sounds like a CRAZY ramble. I’m working off of 2 hours of sleep.

Since I’ve been up for the the last 3 hours (yes I woke up at 4am) I thought it would be a good time reevaluate my life.   I’m feeling stuck, once again.  I feel like I need to DRASTICALLY change something, but I have no idea what to change.

And there lies my dilemma – I’m impatient and want to change everything, but that is in no way humanly possible (for me at least).

I’m open to suggestions on how to shake this stagnant feeling. And what I can do to totally change the game.


Dear MySpace (Part 2) January 6, 2009

Filed under: welcome to my brand of crazy — Dianna @ 3:30 pm

Dear MySpace,

It’s finally over. You were good to me but I feel like we’ve grown apart.  And I need to work on myself before we can even try to be friends.  Please know it’s me not you.

My new friend Facebook says it’s for the best.


The Lady Who Just Deleted Her Account


Dear MySpace December 9, 2008

Filed under: welcome to my brand of crazy — Dianna @ 12:35 am

Dear MySpace Person I Don’t Know,

I do not want to be your friend.  I do not know you nor care to know you.  For you information, everyone on my friends list is actually my off-line friend.

Please remove your friend request from my profile.


The Lady Who Really Doesn’t Care Who You Are


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.