Save the Date

In exactly four years, you won't be reading this blog. You will be getting ready for my wedding.

I've wanted to get married on New Years Eve for as long as I can remember. New Years Eve is my favorite holiday and I just love what it represents: new beginnings, lifestyle changes, and of course an opportunity to wear a sparkly dress. Starting a new year and a new life simultaneously would be amazing, plus there's just something about the holiday season that just makes everything seem...better. Can you imagine just how fun that after party reception would be? Also, getting married on New Years Eve is a surefire way for my future husband to never forget our anniversary. I hope.

Because I'm a woman, here are some things I'm already thinking about in anticipation of my big day:

Husband
If I want to get married on Saturday, December 31, 2016, I need to find a husband ASAP. If I don't find a potential suitor soon I'll have to wait until New Years Eve 2022 (a Saturday) to get married...eek! Time to reactive my blackpeoplemeet.com profile.

Hey baby.

Food
All I know is I want a cupcake tower. I'll figure out the food/drink situation once I get a man.

Note: this is not what I want at my wedding but look at how cute it is!

Dress

Bright white (I know that's supposed to be reserved for virgins but no one at the wedding needs to know I was a whore) and sparkly. Possibly a shorter reception dress so I can dance.

Love these.

Flowers 

I HATE FLOWERS AND THERE WILL BE NONE AT MY WEDDING. YEAH I SAID IT.

Biggest waste of money ever!

Honeymoon

I don't plan on leaving the room so it doesn't really matter...

See you guys in four years!

2012: Best & Worst

With 2012 coming to an end, here are some highlights and lowlights of the past 12 months.

Highlight: Nicaragua
In January I got the opportunity to travel to Nicaragua with some of my favorite business school classmates (and this weird guy named Walt). I had the time of my life and hope to be able to do a similar type of trip soon.

Us + Walt. Creepy, right?

Lowlight: Graduating
I love school (nerd alert, I know) and was so sad that after two decades of being in a classroom it had to end. That being said, enrolling in Wake's one-year MA program was Top 5 best decisions I've ever made. I got to spend time with people I grew to love and care about while learning about things I was interested in; it really doesn't get much better than that.

 #MAproblems

Highlight: Getting a job
I said I wanted a job in corporate retail in Charlotte and that is exactly what I got. Now I'm saying I want a man who's 6'4, single, straight, chocolate brown, with no kids and a fat paycheck. I hope the Universe is still listening.

Cam Newton at my job. Talk about the best of both worlds...

Lowlight: Getting cheated on
In 2012 I got cheated on for the very first time in my life. To be fair, the guy who cheated on me had a girlfriend who was also being cheated on, but everyone knows you can't cheat on your girlfriend AND your mistress...that's just selfish and tacky and not fair to the poor, sweet mistress. On the outside this guy seemed perfect: smart, good-looking, funny, charming, blah blah blah but in reality he was a dog. And apparently my Scooby snack just wasn't enough for him so he had to downgrade to puppy chow. Fortunately I removed myself from the situation and now he's free to do whatever he wants. You know, because he was sooo tied down before.

Him.

Highlight: Not getting pregnant
When a full 365 days goes by without a sperm attaching itself to one of my eggs, I celebrate. I've never had a pregnancy scare but have been known to take my birth control with tequila shots so there's always a risk.

 Not me.

Lowlight: Checking my MySpace
I checked my MySpace three times this year. No, I don't want to talk about it.

Here's to a fabulous 2013!

New Years Resolutions

I have had the same three New Years Resolutions for the past couple of years. The reason for this is that I never, ever stick with them past February so naturally instead of re-committing to them I just postpone them until the next year. Below are my three New Years Resolutions for 2013 (and 2012, and 2011, and 2010, and so on and so forth). Feel free to steal them; you will probably be better at them than I will.

Number 1: Shower every day
As much as I would like for this happen, it doesn't. Last year I'm not even sure I showered on New Years Day so that resolution didn't even get off the ground. If I had to guess, I probably shower 330 out of 365 days annually. I'm an Aquarius and love the water so you would think this wouldn't be an issue for me but I am simply not motivated to shower daily. It's time consuming to get undressed, clean, and re-dressed and that whole process seems like such a waste of time if I'm not going anywhere. Come to think of it, I didn't even shower this morning and I had to be somewhere (work). I have no legitimate excuse except that it's a half day so let's move on.

Number 2: Only cry once every three months
I'm not a huge crier, but when I do cry it is bad. Since I don't cry frequently my tear ducts get backed up and when they get triggered they do not stop. For example, last night was the trigger was this really touching montage on The X Factor...twenty minutes later the The X Factor was over and I was still crying, but at that time I was thinking about how my dad broke his elbow and my co-worker's aunt who just died after getting bitten by a spider. While I would like to limit my crying to four times a year, it's impossible because I never know what will set me off. The movie Up, Say Yes to the Dress, the 10:00 news, proposal videos on YouTube, gin, being hungry, being sleepy, goodbyes, and any commercials involving sick children or missing-limbed animals all need to be avoided if this is going to work.

Number 3: Drink less
My birthday is the first week of February so...yeah, no.

Sandy Kirby

Secretly, I've always wanted to be a stripper. Not long term, of course, but for a little while while my body is still bangin' and my morals are still low. It's been a hidden desire of mine, right up there with wanting my name to be used as a victim's name on CSI and wanting to gently get hit by a car (not badly enough to be seriously injured... I just need some excitement in my life and think it would make a really interesting story). Judge accordingly.

Last weekend, my on-again/off-again manfriend came to Charlotte and after a fun night out, we discussed stopping by a strip club on the way home. My girl Siri pointed us to one called Leather & Lace so we decided to try it out. I'd never been to a strip club before but the world's about to end soon so I figured why not?

The first thing I noticed was just how NAKED these girls were. I've never seen so many boobs and butt cheeks in my life. The second thing I noticed was how skinny they were. Not sexy skinny either; they were literally skeletons in g-strings. Size zeros, A-cups. Now I'm "strictly dickly" but I will say that I love the shape of a woman--women are gorgeous and curvy women especially are incredibly sexy. These girls weren't sexy. Had they not been naked, they would have fit right in on one of those feed-a-child-for-15-cents-a-day commercials. Yuck.

Manfriend wanted to buy me a lapdance but I told him I got to pick the girl, and frankly all of the girls were too tiny for my taste. And then Candi (I don't remember her actual name, but Candi seems appropriate) came out. And boy, was she huge.

While manfriend was adjusting to the literal elephant in the room, I was checking her out, seeing if she was good enough for his $5 and my lapdance. She was a tad cellulite-y, but aren't we all? (Note: I'm only saying that to make y'all feel better. Again, my body is perfect). I turned to tell manfriend that she was The One,  but he was chatting up a skeleton in a Santa hat and two seconds later, the skeleton's 5-inch heels were on my shoulders and that was that.

Later in the night, I called Candi over for a dance. I'm not sure if she thought I wasn't worth the $5, but she didn't dance and instead, pulled up a chair and started to chat. She was sweet but an over-sharer, assuring me she didn't wear plus size clothes and confiding in me that she thinks the other girls smoke crack to maintain their figures. Very awkward--I'm not sure how I responded but it was the verbal equivalent of responding "K" to a text message. I later told her that she had the best body out of all of the women there; she responded with a "thank you" and then started gushing about how amazing my body was (see! I told y'all), how I had a great body for stripping, and how I should apply for a job at Leather & Lace. I am a sucker for flattery--ten minutes later I was putting the last of manfriend's money in her g-string and getting smacked in the face by her DD cups.

Eight days later and I'm still considering filling out an application (or whatever it is you do to become a stripper). I hate being touched and I hate being told what to do, but besides that it'd be great. Easy money plus you're surrounded by people who think you're beautiful, which I'm already accustomed to.

My stripper name is supposed to be Sandy Kirby (first pet + street you grew up on) but my body is more of a Chocolate Fantasy or a Cinnamon Glitter, don't you agree?

Kwanzaa

I hate generalizations. When someone associates an entire group of people with one idea, stereotype, or action, it infuriates me. People are individuals and make individual choices, period. I don't do things because I'm female, black, 23, etc. I do things because I'm Victoria and I'm really cool.

That being said, I'm about to make a huge generalization but it's okay because it's true: no black people celebrate Kwanzaa. None. The ones who tell you they do are liars, and are just trying to sound different and interesting.

I know, I know, we learned about Kwanzaa back in third grade because it wasn't fair to just learn about Christmas and Hanukkah, two holidays people actually celebrate. I get it. However, think of all of the black people you know (side note: if I am the only black person you know, stop reading this blog and go make some black friends) and tell me that one or more of them celebrates Kwanzaa. Trust me, they don't.

When I was in elementary school I had a classmate named Samara* who claimed to celebrate Kwanzaa. Every year in December she would bring in the black, red, and green candles and the candle holder thingy and talk about what her family did for each night of Kwanzaa.

She was a liar.

I knew she was a liar because I pulled her name for Secret Santa, and since Santa doesn't celebrate Kwanzaa I figured I didn't need to buy her anything (eight year-old Victoria was wise beyond her years, let me tell ya). She was pissed and said it wasn't fair because her family celebrates Christmas too. No black people have the time, money, or patience to buy presents for two holidays. None. Is that racist? Probably, but I've been black for almost 24 years so it's okay.

All that being said, we had a Christmas cubicle decorating competition at work and I had no desire to participate. Thus, I pulled the "I don't celebrate Christmas, I celebrate Kwanzaa" card. I hated myself for being That Black Girl but the feeling quickly passed because I'm a lazy bum who had zero intentions of getting to work early to decorate my cubicle. The little blonde girl who initiated the competition quickly sent out a new e-mail, changing the name to a "Holiday" decorating competition and encouraging us to decorate our cubicles for the holiday we celebrate, no matter what it is. Whore.

Here are some photos from the competition:

My co-worker Jennifer's desk. She won 1st place.

Another co-worker, Sara's, desk. She won 2nd.

My desk.

Maybe next year....



*Names haven't been changed, sorry.

My First Trip to Brazil

In recent TMI news, I got my very first Brazilian wax last week. A place not too far from my job was offering a free wax for first time customers so I figured I'd try it out. Instead of getting my eyebrows or sideburns waxed (which they both desperately needed/still need), I decided to offer up my hoo-ha. We've been through thick & thin together (literally, ha) and now we could add a full-blown wax to the list.

When I scheduled my appointment weeks ago they told me to let the hair grow out to a quarter inch, about the size of a grain of rice. I translated that as, "Victoria, stop shaving and let yourself go completely." So what was supposed to be the length of a grain of rice turned out closer to the length of a husk of corn. Oops.

My waxer (I don't know what the PC term is for those people... hair esthetician? Professional bush remover?) was super nice and talked to me during the whole thing, which was good I guess. It reminded me of being at the gyno when they try to talk to you about school and work and stuff to distract you from the duck lips they're about to put inside you. She gave me a heads up when she was about to strip the really painful parts, which I appreciated. On a 1-10 pain scale, with 1 being not painful at all and 10 being the equivalent of a Honey Boo Boo marathon, I'd give it an 8. I think if I'd taken my favorite pain reliever (tequila) beforehand, it would've only been like a 6. I was too cheap to buy all the lotions and creams they recommend to put on after so cross your fingers that everything turns out okay. "Cupcake" and I have places to go and people to see!

Thankful.

 In honor of Thanksgiving, here is a list of things I'm thankful for:

• Having a job, even if it means I get e-mails like this one:

• My wonderful friends, especially those who read this blog. I promise I'll get married or have a baby soon so I can have more interesting things to write about.
• That as of last night at approximately 7:30 p.m. I am FINALLY done with Thanksgiving leftovers. My mom sent me back to Charlotte with so. much. food. I'm glad it's finally gone.
• Most of all though, I'm thankful that my parents named me Victoria and not something ghetto or hard to pronounce. My mom tells me that the reason for this is because she didn't want potential employers to know I was black until I walked in to interview. Thanks Mom.

I'm Thirsty.

I love my job. I really, really do. 

Yes, we get paid in gum and yes, my roles and responsibilities could probably be done by a 16-year-old whose first language isn't English, but I'm happy here. The hours are flexible, the company constantly shows they care about associates, and, most importantly, the cafeteria food is amazing. It's a great post-college job.

However... I'm thirsty. Parched, even.

I'm thirsty for intelligent conversation. I'm thirsty for a challenge. I'm thirsty for doing and learning about things that actually matter.

Today I walked into work, groggy as hell since we have to be here at the crack of dawn this week. I sat down, checked the one e-mail I'd received between leaving at 7 the night before and arriving at 6, and heard a gaggle of girls chatting a few desks away from mine. (Who "chats" at 6 a.m.??) Anywho, they were discussing whether or not they could pull off colored tights. 7 minutes later, they were all assured that despite their pale skin and light hair color, they could pull them off. Success!

A few weeks ago we had a meeting where our boss brought in different shirt samples and had us say which Roy G. Biv color we would place them under on our website. This meeting lasted an hour and thirty minutes. After minute twelve, I checked out and mentally listed all of the cities I'd visited in North and South Carolina (roughly 107). Yes, it was THAT BAD.

These conversations are commonplace, but by no means does that make them okay. It's not that I want to talk about Gaza or Libya at work, but how many times can you talk about which Michael Kors bag is more boho-chic or the difference between Marc Jacobs' new perfumes before making yourself and others around you braindead?

At both Wofford and Wake I was constantly challenged, both by professors and classmates. I miss that. I miss talking about things that matter. I miss being thirsty and actually having my thirst be fulfilled (usually by knowledge, sometimes by tequila). I miss being intellectually stimulated (and physically stimulated, let's be real. College was fun.)

And finally, I must include this because Soulja Boy frequently speaks to my life.

Stay thirsty, friends.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

Welcome to my blog! I decided to do a blog because 1. I asked all of my friends if my life was interesting enough to blog about and all three of them said yes and 2. I'm not passionate about anything in life and I'm hoping maybe I'll become passionate about this.

Today's post is inspired by Oprah. My mom absolutely hates Oprah and thinks she's the worst thing to happen to black people since slavery, so naturally I dislike her too. However, last night she had her 2012 Favorite Things special so I'm going to list a few of my favorite things:

Movie: Has to be Forrest Gump. Every time I watch that movie I laugh, cry, and find something new to like.

TV Show: Too many to list, but I'm going to attempt to anyway. Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Desperate Housewives, Boy Meets World, Dexter, Modern Family, Living Single, and (saving the best for last) the mid-90s classic, Supermarket Sweep.

Book: The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. It's about this white family that goes to Africa to do mission work and chronicles how they change Africa and how Africa changes them. It is incredible.

Song: "All My Life" by K-Ci and JoJo. I want this song played at my wedding, my funeral, and possibly the birth of my firstborn.

Website: blackpeoplemeet.com Probably Pinterest. I'm a DIY kind of girl, and can get lost in that website for hours. I also love DearBlankPleaseBlank; it's perfect for getting you through a long workday.

Quote: "Teach a man to fish, he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to dougie and all his fish will love him". It doesn't apply to my life whatsover (in fact, the only time I've actually ever dougied was when I walked through a spiderweb and did it by accident) but I think it's hilarious. 

And finally, anyone who knows me knows that I love pictures so I present my favorite photo of all time:

This photo was taken in Punta Cana in the Domincan Republic in a parking lot where we held an impromptu dance party on the way to a club. So random and so perfect; I love it!