About Me

Living in the Caribbean is probably like living anywhere else, with the same ups and downs. But it does have its own vibe and flavour and gives me a unique perspective on most things. I'm often sarcastic, mostly funny, always looking for a new adventure. I have not boxed myself into any one category of life. I love a lot of things and dislike a lot more. I write about them all.

Hotel Hunting

Hotel hunting is a nightmare. I am one of those who just needs a clean room, with clean sheets, a shower and a working toilet, a tv (not always for watching but for background noise esp since silence is deafening to me), hot water and if you're really pushing me to the limit, a buffet breakfast. Does not seem like I am asking too much, right? Wrong. European hotels go for quaint, which can equal old furnishings, musty sheets, communal bathrooms. The last one - communal bathrooms - DEFINITE NO-NO. I shared a bathroom with my brother for years and that was cool, cause that's my brother and I love him. I did the communal bathing after Phys Ed classes in high school - traumatic by any standards. I shared a bathroom with my 60-odd dorm sisters for 2 years and a roommate/friend for another year while in university and that was going beyond my comfort levels. I am way past my youthful abandon years. I am paying for a hotel room. I am NOT sharing a bathroom with smelly tourists. I need my own private bathroom, in my room, at my convenience. I love the quaintness of a town or city and that's why I love Europe, but bring 2010 to my hotel room, please! I am not trying to wholly recapture the frickin' Renaissance. Call me anal, but yeah...some things are not up for debate!

Anyway, I have a shortlist of 4 hotels which meet the above requirements, which means I am improving steadily from vacation to vacation because it only took me a a dedicated 3 hours to come up with my shortlist, when I have gone past the 3 week mark in the past. I am just really picky about where I lay my head at night. I don't need 5-star luxury but when you read some of these reviews from guests, about bloody sheets, puke on the carpet etc, it can really give a girl nightmares. So I am happy with my selections thus far. Go me!

Now I'm hungry.

What Chilli Wants, What Black Women Want

I like reality tv. Not all - you won't catch me watching Tool Academy for example, but I love some reality tv. I watched the season finale of What Chilli Wants today and was happy with her choice cause I thought Bill was hot. I know that there are some black people in the blogosphere who don't like her choice, mainly because Bill is a white dude.

I personally thought Bill was kinda hot and an all round nice guy. Of course this is tv and he could be a total ass, but the point is, there are still so many hang ups about black women dating white men. I see black men, dating non-black women all the time - the white models, the Latina actresses, the Hawaiian pop artistes. This equation does not seem to be an issue. But let the black woman be checkin' on a blue eyed, wavy haired Caucasian, and all hell breaks loose.

Why do we still do this? And this is not only coming from the black men, but also from the black women. I saw a tweet that said something like I want to slit my wrists after watching this show. Chilli makes me ashamed to be a black woman.

Because she had a nice date with a white man? That is so stupid. Chilli is a beautiful woman, and why should she sit around the house, twiddling her thumbs waiting on this perfect black man, if there is a perfectly good white or Latin or Asian man waiting at her doorstep, ready and willing to sweep her off her feet. And guess what, she was totally feeling Floyd Mayweather at first and was willing to see where that could go and then Pretty Boy Floyd left her ass waiting at the dinner table. Soooo...she had a choice - sit around waiting for Floyd, or get going and try something else. C'mon people, get serious.

Regina King, another gorgeous black celeb notes
Black women are the least likely group of women that will date outside of their race. When you have everyone else who is willing to explore but a Black woman is like, "I want me a brother," well, if the brothers are out and they’re open to date everybody and the majority of Black women aren’t willing to look twice when a man outside of their race is sending them messages, then that makes our percentage rate lower and the chances of finding love, because we’re only looking in one specific place for finding love—with Black men. -  Vibe
I have a lot of friends who have married outside of their race, and hell...outside of their countries, thus not limiting themselves. I thought love was far reaching and all encompassing. I thought it was about finding that person who gave you butterflies, who stood by you and supported you through thick and thin, who could make you laugh and be comfortable in your own skin, who you saw a future with - regardless of race. But I guess still for some, it's about race and colour and another blog entry on the topic is ultimately pointless so I will stop here.

She was a little anal and picky, making even the pickiest of us look like Mother Mary, but I think she got the picture soon enough that the long list would not get her any lovin' anytime soon. I still think Bill was kinda hot, except for the little bump on his nose, which a good plastic surgeon can fix, so you go Chilli.

X Marks the Spot

Yesterday I did not feel like going to the gym but after my awesome roti lunch, I decided that a workout was mandatory. So I went home, and dug up my P90X DVD. It was just this week I told a friend that the DVD workouts don't work for me for a variety of reasons, including the fact that my personal tv is in my room and there is no space so I would have to bump peeps out of the family room, which is hard cause someone is always at home. Then coming home usually means I see the couch or the bed and my body responds by shutting down...usually within minutes.

But the stars were all aligned yesterday and noone was home and I was not that tired. Soo...it was time to X.

Well, I am here typing so I did not die, but it was hard. The up side was that they were tired too. I liked that the dude used a couple of real people, not gym hard bodies, but regular guys in the workout. So they were breathing just as hard and sweating just as much as I was and I saw dude in the back stealing some breaks, which I am not ashamed to say, I did too. For my very first time X-ing, I thought I did pretty damn good.  But muscle confusion is an undertstatement. More like muscle crucifixion. But it was a good 60min workout and it was another good way to mix up the physical activity.

I really would love something decadent for dinner - something involving cheese and pasta maybe - but seeing that I could not make it off the bed to hit the gym this morning, and I am also under the weather and most likely not working out for the next couple of days, I will have to pass.

Rising Fashion and Style

I still refuse to discuss politics in any great detail online, but I can discuss politicians and their style. Now image is important as a leader, and I think we have been fortunate to have had some dashing leading men lead Trinidad and Tobago. Say what you want about Mr Manning, he was a dapper PM. The man could rock a suit. Mr Panday also looked damn sharp, and my consummate leader is Arthur Napoleon Raymond Robinson. Class.

So now we have a female PM and perhaps as a woman she will be under the microscope more than her male predecessors. But we almost did not get there. Thank God for makeovers, because she went from frumpy tantie to hot mama. Once the election campaigning had begun, she started coming out of the Dark Ages - lost that stringy hair that did nothing for her face or to add youth, clearly she went on some type of fitness plan and the clothes were better fitting. So we went from this, the washed up granny look -

to this, rocking her Prime Ministerial debut in a stunning green suit.

Small bit of advice though, Madame PM - the eye makeup is not suited for a woman of your age and in fact you look like a racoon. But other than that, simply beautiful. Keep it up! Perhaps you can suggest that your stylist give your husband a once-over, no...a twice-over, cause buddy...your wife looks really good. Try to keep up. I just hope she NEVER EVER wears that awful hood rattish yellow nail polish again in life! Kamla, you're almost 60...please!

As for the AG who was also sworn in on Wednesday - God, I have no words to describe this get up. I could not believe he was going to enforce the laws of our land in this outfit. This is a crime in itself. These pinstripes can be seen from the blimp! And he was brave to stand next to his sharp PM in this nightmare outfit.

I don't foresee the chick who replaced Mickela Panday getting a Ministerial job, but if she does, can someone send her to a hairdresser and to the MAC store? Your predecessor was sharp, man. What is this?

Her claim to fame is that she is the youngest MP in the house at age 29, but girl...represent nah man. I saw her on tv last night and wow...needs help.

I hope the other Ministers/MPs will be on point today because I have my eyes on you!

Racked with Calorie Envy

Life in heels and flip flops and ballet flats. I got home late last night and just crashed, with the tv watching me rather than me watching it. Woke up this morning, I just could not be bothered. Twenty minutes after the alarm went off to start another work day, I sat at the table idly eating some cereal and soy milk (yes, at 3am cause I had no dinner and was starving) as though I had nowhere to go; as though I did not have to take a shower, get dressed and get to work. Just sat there. Eating my multi grain cereal. It was hard this morning to get it together and as a result, I have no lunch, so I know I would have to brave both the rain and the Third World pavements to go find some in this hell hole of a city called Port of Spain. Thus...the ballet flats. Aren't they cute though?

Man, I can sure use a cheddar herb bagel with spinach cream cheese from The Great American Bagel. I have not been to the gym at all this week so this is probably not the best idea but wow...a girl can dream.

Now, as we are talking food and as I am supposed (emphasis on "supposed") to be planning an impending vacation, and I am not allowed, by order of my hips to even look at good food until July, let's talk vacation cuisine. Depending on where I travel, I can either get fatter or actually lose weight.

The US is just pigalicious. I mean, these people can eat and the massive portions of high caloric goodies are enough to send one's hips into shock. I truly respect the doggy bag concept when eating out in US cities. Truly. In my case, no trip is complete without some sinful ish from Cheesecake Factory. I had my pre-birthday dinner eating glorious crap like this.

Come to think of it, I have spent the past few birthdays in a CF. It's about time they give me gold membership!

London is a different story. They eat the weirdest things, and I have found myself living by Sainsbury's ready to go meals, or cooking for myself or being cooked for (that's the life!). Home style Caribbean cooking is where it's usually at in ole Blighty. Though to be fair, I love trying out the more colourful eating places - more of the ethnic type places. Thai food in London is off the chain and I managed to find a pretty damn good Italian place, with the help of an Italian, of course. But generally, London is not a deal breaker for the diet. Plus with all the running for buses and for trains, one cannot help but stay fit. I am so not used to this hustling thing, much to Londoners' annoyance. I am a Caribbean stroller or worse, a regular driver. In Trinidad, I drive everywhere. Maybe this is part of the problem. But the convenience is priceless. I love the city but I will never understand why everyone is always in such a hurry. Same goes for NY. Take a load off!

Paris is a healthy balance of both. I have not been able to bring myself to have croissants anywhere else after eating French baked goods. Flaky carb heaven! And les crepes! I loved ducking into roadside cafes like this one in Montmartre, to take a load off and take a nibble of something yummy.

French cuisine is not for the weak-hearted - literally and I will admit I am not a huge fan. But if you do partake of le cordon bleu, then exploring this absolutely marvellous city will help you take it right off. My day in Montmartre was like a spin class, but without the torture. You just have to explore the city on foot. I don't think there is any other way to really enjoy it. I got back home a bit trimmer than I was before I left.

Italy will be the biggest challenge cause anyone who knows me knows I looooove Italian food. This being the case, I will have to do a lot of walking...a lot! But I am up for the challenge.

Until then, I have ordered a treat for myself this week, despite my lack of cardio or weights this week. Friday will be good because of my end of week treat. I would make it all myself as I did below, but not this weekend. Too tired.

Dudus and Gas in 1999

During the drinks interval (yes, I am a sucker for punishment, cause I am still listening to WI cricket on my way home), the news update reported that the students at the Mona campus of the University of the West Indies were safe but scared. Boy, did that bring back memories.

I was in my first year in this place when they decided to shoot up the place after then PM, PJ Patterson raised gas prices. The sounds of helicopters over campus and the distant sound of gunshots were our bedtime music. I was not scared as I was a tad bit worried - there was grave uncertainty about what would happen to us on campus - smack dab in the middle of the uprising it seemed. The privileged middle class students, some from islands that had never experienced protests and upheaval quite like this. I had lived through a coup in 1990, with the real fear of losing close family members in the security forces. But still, enduring something like that, with all your aunties and cousins at your side, and facing a foreign battle in a foreign country with noone but other foreign students at your side was different. I remember someone calling TV6 and telling them we wanted to come home, and my poor frantic mother trying her best to get through to the dorms to make sure her girl chile was alive - and then of course the inevitable I dunno why you could not stay St Augustine to study (local campus). But we survived.

What stands out was when the Guild decided to show their solidarity with the people and march with them, and called on us students to rally behind them. To me, this was not my battle to wage. I had been in the country less than a year and I did not think I should have taken my good self into the streets of Kingston to be tear gassed - something I would not have necessarily done had I stayed at St Augustine. The other non-Jamaican students felt the same way and this created loads of tension on the block and for a while, battle lines were drawn - us vs them. I could hear my mother in my mind "I did not send you there to march" and I honestly did not feel that was the place for me. Looking back, would I make the same choice? Yes. I did not feel a sense of ownership  - I empathised but I did not want to lend my support in that way. But I respected their valiant, albeit violent, stand against what they saw as oppression and total lack of consultation, and PJ had no choice but to bow to the pressure.

That was then, this is now. I highly doubt that the students of the UWI are showing solidarity this time, for Dudus - an international drug superstar. But the uncertainty surely must be the same, or worse.

Life without a Microwave!!

On Saturday morning I made my way first to the gym (at 5am) and then rushed home to make sure I got a much coveted parking spot in front my salon. Of course, you ask, what about breakfast? Well, this will sound just terrible especially as I just mentioned that I went to the GYM at 5am, but I had a small piece of macaroni pie with some stripped beef in the fridge, and the aim was to pop it into the microwave and rush back out of the house and eat it on the way (I was hungry!), in the carpark, or under the dryer. As I popped open the microwave door, there it was - the click that pushed me back into the Stone Ages. My microwave door was broken, so ultimately my microwave was dead.

The horror!

How does one live without a microwave?

I still took the bowl with the cold, stiff lunch-breakfast inside to the salon, where my hairdresser warmed it up for me using her microwave, but yesterday I had to warm up lunch with the help of my cute pyrex dish and the oven. The light a match, take forever to warm up crap oven.

There are a couple things I don't think I can live without - tv (with cable, not this local tv nonsense), computer (with internet of course...duh) and a microwave. My days start early and end late, which means my meals start in the fridge and end with 2 minutes in the microwave. When you're hungry after a long day and a hard workout, who has time to plate crap into an oven friendly dish and wait for 10 minutes or whatever for the food to get warm?

And don't start lecturing me either about food, because I do actually cook but with my days the way they are, cooking usually means one big adventure on a Sunday, and Zip Loc bowls portioning out the results. So I am not a slave to the frozen food section of my Hi-Lo, nor am I a Ramen noodle kinda girl. But homestyle food in the fridge still needs a microwave!!!

The funny thing is, when my mum bought that microwave about 13 years ago, it cost $2500. A microwave now is a staple and costs next to nothing. A staple I need to get soon.

While fondling some apples...

It's always a good idea to look semi-decent when heading out of your house or apartment cause you just never know who you may run into. After a long morning, and sheer exhaustion, I rolled off the bed and decided to make my Saturday supermarket stop. Since I had gotten a good soaking this morning in the mid-morning downpour, and my Saturday jeans were wet, I opted for a simple black maxi dress with simple silver accessories. No makeup, save some Clinique mascara on the eyelashes (I cannot imagine life without a dab of mascara!) and pulled my new shorter hair into a quick bun.

So I am in the meat section first, and I am cursing under my breath that beady eyed housewives have already come in and taken all the packs of pre-cut, pre-seasoned chicken, and one of the meat boys approaches me. Now there seems to be some kinda meat boy alliance because every time I visit this supermarket, there is always a meat boy hanging around gawking. Today's meat boy came up to me and said
Miss, if I weren't married, I would ask you out. This is the fourth time I have seen you in here and you always look good.
Okay. So it was confirmed. The meat section staff are stalking me. But I told him thanks cause hey...I never refuse a (non-scuzzy) compliment. The meat boy was not trying to be gross. He just wanted to tell me that, and he was on his way. So, no rolling of eyes.

Two minutes later, I was fondling some apples in the fresh produce section and as I looked up, I saw my ex. God. He looked as nashy as ever, and thanks to meat boy's confirmation, I knew I was not. I mean, no woman wants to be looking like an old sneaker when she runs into an ex. And if the chances of you running into him are high, then think twice about running down to your grocery with a do-rag on your head, please! You never want the man to inflate his ego and say to himself - I am the reason she is looking like mess. She just never got over me.


I waited patiently for him to look up from the chocolate cookies he was contemplating and feast his eyes on the chocolate vision in the fruit section - the chocolate he could have been having if he weren't such an ass. When he did eventually look up, and he saw me, I saw the look of surprise, then shame, then fear, then retreat. I think he's still scared of my reaction to him, which is a potent combo of hatred, disgust and revulsion and worst of all, indifference. But I just rolled my eyes, which in itself is a telling sign that you mean nothing to me and moved on. I caught him breaking his neck to check me out, as I fondled some Crix in the snack section, and smiled to myself cause it was confirmed....I am da bomb! Poor fella...hope he can sleep tonight. I know it might be hard to reconcile that he is indeed an ass and now is limited to stealing glances at me in the supermarket, but God is good and will see him through. lol.

But I am quickly coming to terms with the fact that supermarkets, and specifically MY supermarket, is the new hotspot for romance or stalkers. There was the expat stalker 3 weeks ago, the meat boy conglomerate, the weirdo security guard, and the random men on any given weekend. Makes selecting food for the week a non-boring affair.

But if you are so inclined to use your neighbourhood Hi-Lo as your checkout point for romance, here are some "expert" tips.

Photo credit: Hi-Lo Foodstores

The Finale that left us breathless...

I think I am all over the cybersphere with Grey's. It was just awesome awesome awesome.

My fab Facebook/BBM friends and fellow fanatics:

I have no words...no words after last night. Ok maybe just one...BRILLIANT!

It was just epic, just brilliant, the best in Primetime I have seen for a while. When Clark shot annoying Reed point blank I knew we had trouble.

All I could say is thank God meh heart strong eh!! from the beginning my jaw was on the floor, straight till the end
Such a great show! I am especially appreciative of the fact that there were no cliff-hangers - who hadda dead, dead and who hadda live, live.

This woman, Shonda Rhimes looking to kill people. I swear, if the earth had shook last night in Trinidad as it did in Costa Rica, I would have not been bothered cause I was right there at Seattle Grace, right with all of these amazing people. I am still stunned by its awesomeness and wow...I almost love this woman. - trininista
I posted my epic review of this epic episode this morning, after my local IP failed me last night because it was penned right after the show ended, such was the fabness!
Shonda, even with all the gore (I mean, damn...Reed's bullet to the head made me jump off the couch) kept the show's Greyness, with the relationships still being the focal point of all the drama. The relationship between Owen and Cris and Teddy and Owen's indecision and lunacy. The relationship between Cris and Mer, cause Mer told her first about being pregnant and even though she had just ended it with Owen, Cris was too happy for her friend and to be godmother if the worst should happen - which it almost did (damn you Shonda). The beginning of one love (Alex and Lexie) totally ending the hope for another love (Lexie and Mark, but not that I was hoping, just felt really bad for Markie). The love one woman has for the entire world and how it takes such a toll on HER emotions (Bailey). The lesbian love which seems destined to haunt us. The love between a man and a woman, so deep that not even death could tear them apart (Mer and McDreamy). The love of that guy, that father figure, that man who would not leave his troops behind, who would not retreat in defeat, who would risk his own life to ensure his hospital was safe and who without a doubt has the balls, the passion, the experience and the heart to get back his frickin job as Chief. My Chief!

We loved it, we shared in every jaw dropping, nail biting moment. If nothing else exciting were to happen this week, at least we would have Grey's Anatomy. Thank you Shonda. Thank you ABC! Still want you to keep Flash Forward but I will try not to push it.
Gotta love social networking and how it makes being a tv drama fan so much fun. But the real question now is, what do I do on Thursday nights until it comes back on in the fall? (scratches head)

A Spy in Heels and Tiara? Really?

I'm really struggling today. Because I don't go to the gym on Thursdays because of Thursday night tv, and especially this week with the Grey's season finale, I put in a bit extra at the fat office yesterday (the gym, people...the gym). So I am really weary this morning. Add general early day fatigue and I am a virtual zombie at my desk today. Trying my best to stay alert and not be THAT girl, but it's a struggle. Today is one of those home fertiliser bomb days and that is putting it nicely.

Now a woman who clearly is not having a home fertiliser bomb kinda week is Rima Fakih. Now while I am not a fan of beauty pageants, when I saw the news that Rima Fakih had won the Miss USA pageant, I will admit I was interested in the story - the story of an Arab American winning a title called MISS USA. I would imagine the title means that the winner would embody the values and beliefs of America and that the girl who it was felt would best represent these values would be the one selected. I cannot speak for her poise or intelligence as I did not see the show, but she is a gorgeous girl without a doubt. The backlash was predictable though, for diversity and subsequently tolerance still seems to be buzzwords, not only in the US but in many places. The references to her Middle Eastern heritage were mostly negative and showed up a society that is still as backward in their mentality as they are progressive in technology and business.

I see her selection as a great channel to expose the stereotypes which many people harbour against Middle Eastern culture and its people. Yes. Events like 9/11 and the recent Times Square incident have done nothing to encourage us that all Muslims and Middle Easterners are not fanatics and terrorists. But why are we so willing to pigeonhole each other in strict definitions based on the actions of a minority? I have never heard of any Islamic female extremists who paraded in front of millions in a bikini, or posed in lingerie, or one who put aside her suicide bomb harness to go pole dancing on a Saturday night. I mean..seriously.
Blogs and posts from those with knowledge of the Middle East pointed out that Rima Fakih and her behavior - be it known, as the beauty pageant she entered in 2008 for Miss Lebanon Emigrant or little-known activities such as the pole dancing competition, don’t match up with the conservative Islam Hezbollah preaches.
Fakih's modern looks and open-minded interests are indicative of a portion of Lebanon's population that is western-oriented and non-conservative even if they belong to the Shiite sect of Islam. - CNN
The controversy swirling around her will not go away anytime soon, and sadly, neither will ethnic and religious stereotypes.

The Season Finale that may change everything!!!

One of the highly anticipated events this week, if not THE most highly anticipated event, is not related to our local election or any global events. It's the season finale of Grey's Anatomy. I think I can safely say that women AND men here and around the world are eager to see who gets shot, who dies, who the shooter is etc. It's amazing how we can become so invested in television dramas. I see the Facebook updates and tweets about 24, Lost, Law and Order (its cancellation is a travesty) and of course, Grey's Anatomy.

Now I already review the Grey's episodes every week on Facebook for my friends and I to discuss (gotta love social networking) but now with all the hype, intrigue and excitement, there was talk of a Grey's finale party or after-party. Though it is too late now for a party during the show and I am not sure our hearts could take it, I found someone who has had a Grey's party and wow... I mean I love Grey's to no end, but nah...this is something I probably would not do. Creative though. Good idea if you really want to do a full blown theme party. I was just thinking along the lines of maybe some wine, some chicken wings and Kleenex.

In any event, in just over a day we will have the answers to all our questions and come Friday, we will either be devastated, relieved, stunned, or disappointed. Hoping there is no disappointment.

The "IT" factor

Last night I got home and as tired as I was, I still managed to whip up a fat-busting lunch for today. Some stir fried spinach chock full of onions, garlic and natural herbs, some chicken, steamed then browned and yummified in the oven and because I knew I would surely pass out without a starch, I boiled a small potato and added a little cheese and creamed corn. It smelled great. Tastes amazing too.
Hopefully it will hold me over between now and end of gym time later tonight. God help me!

Now I have been enjoying the gym and when I eat the way I am supposed to eat, aka PROPERLY, I feel better as well. I too often fall in the rush hour trap - the trap where I am stuck in traffic and about to eat my hand, so I stop off at the nearest shop or outlet, or Bobo Shanti for something to save me from hunger mania. My meals now are more balanced and I have a snack in the car that is more in keeping with health, than junk in the trunk. But though Plus Size is apparently anything over a Size 6, making me a super mampie by anorexic model standards, I still think I am da bomb. Of course I have varying degrees of bombness. Some days I am nuclear warhead - unstoppable, hot, explosive - and some days I am maybe just a little home made fertiliser bomb. But all in all I think between God, my parents and my credit card, I do alright for myself.

This brings me to an article I read this morning that started:
“There is no such thing as an ugly woman … it’s all about how a woman packages herself.”

If this is not the truth, I don't know what is. I tend to try to not use the word "ugly" to describe people (but won't lie, sometimes I do, and worse) but especially with women. I lean towards words like "rugsy" or "nashy", which I have many times also applied to myself, especially after long flights, gym or tabanca. Nashy suggests that you just are not packaging yourself to the best of your ability; that you can shine like a gold penny if you made the effort, but maybe you just don't care for one reason or another, or are clueless, or as is often the case in my world, too tired to bother. But it's also about how the woman views herself and what she exudes - that "IT" factor that makes her unique and awesome. My "IT" factor is made up of a lot of different elements - my sense of humour, my sarcasm, my marshmallowyness when pushed, my independence, my smarts, my unique brand of crazy, my outspokenness. So even when I may not physically meet conventional standards, because hey, I have very early days almost everyday, so the smurf effect is not always a guarantee, I still have my personal mojo that works. It's true...people can really look past the superficial when your "IT" is way on!

And the article, written by a man by the way, went on to agree with me:
The women we call ‘Plain Janes’ are so used to being sidelined for hotter, beautiful women. In the end, most of these women up their self esteem and re-package their personalities giving rise to stimulating individualism. And when such refreshed individualism is pitted against her hot, superficial friends, they ooze sexual charisma even from sniffing distance. This woman’s sexuality runs deeper than surface mascara.

We all have our down days, our fertiliser bomb days. But we all have "IT". It's how you choose to demonstrate and own your "it"and work it, to the best of your ability. Your "it" is just another part of your selling proposition. So are you working your "IT"?

Season Finales and Election Finales

When ABC killed Robert McAllister last night it was shocking to say the least. I only read later that Rob Lowe was not planning on coming back to Brothers and Sisters. But who else wants to leave the alphabet network's shows? Still holding out hope for Chief Webber this Thursday.

Sadly, I am more interested in North American television than I am in local election coverage. With the exception of Keith Rowley's meeting in Diego Martin West the other day, I have not paid attention to the rallies or picong coming out of the elections. Last night, while channel jumping during commercials, I stumbled upon the interviews with Kamla Persad-Bissessar and Patrick Manning on separate networks. To say I was unimpressed would be an understatement. The selection of journalists on the latter was both obvious and mind boggling as one gentleman seemed almost nervous and scared. On the other hand, the woman running for PM seemed unprepared where her adversary seemed mightily and  way too relaxed. Needless to say, I went back to ABC and the season finales.

And come election night, one of my favourite shows goes off air forever, so I will most likely be locked on NBC for the series finale of Law and Order. Does it mean I am not invested in what the future holds for my country? Of course I am. But so far I have not been impressed by what the political merchandisers have been selling and have not yet been convinced to buy. Nothing much has changed from the last elections to now, and though I do have opinions and thoughts, you will not see me expressing them via tweets or status updates, nor will I change my profile photo to a political symbol. I will probably vote and exercise my right to choose and I will  wait eagerly to see how the electorate has responded to what has been an exceptionally poor showing by our leaders. I will do so quietly and in my own way.

But thank God for cable. Thank God for tv dramas and season finales. Expressive I am, and will be.

Weekend winners

I just sat and watched England put a hurtin' on Australia in the World Twenty20 World Cup final in Barbados. It was a great game and I was supporting the Barmy Army from the moment they qualified for the final, and then when it was decided that they would face the often dishonest Aussies, my support was confirmed. So congrats to them. But God, does my cricket captain and his band of hopeless men not feel a twinge of regret that I have to sit in my house, along with millions of other West Indians, and support a foreign team in the final? The absolutely dismal performance in that last game makes me wonder if they even care about the legacy left by the greats and the one they are leaving for the future generation of young WI players and fans.

Oh well. I washed my car this morning so that the girl would be reflected in her car - so did all the mats and gave it a thorough up and down, through and through, only to see thick dark rainclouds outside my window. Go figure.

This week is what I call finale week with season finales for some of my shows - Desperate Housewives, Brothers and Sisters and of course, Grey's Anatomy. The gang and I have been speculating on who the shooter and the victim(s) will be in the finale of Grey's and the excitement is building. And with Dell being given the kiss of death last week in the finale of Private Practice, chances of the victim being a key player are very good.

Oh, and yeah, there's work too. Can't forget that, can I?

Burgundy Baby

During the week I am often so tired that I get by with basic coordination, where I don't have time to change handbags or I'm too worn out to wear the heels that go with a blouse. But there are those off days when laziness and convenience equal super diva, and today was the day, when everything fell into place on its own, and personified the saying that beauty is effortless. My glasses and my blouse, and my nails are also the same colour and this was not at all planned I swear. Of course this meant that when I hit the pavement this morning to go to the drugstore, I had to contend with the Third World Romeos,including those mandated to protect and serve, but it comes with the territory. Just too hot, I know...

Little do they know that I am in immense discomfort, having worked muscles that previously were on extended vacation until yesterday. I'm not quite sure why my shoulders are so painfully sore considering that my workout yesterday was lower body, but maybe it's residual pain from the day before. I dunno. In any event, today is rest day. Grey's Day! I never workout once there is a fresh episode of Grey's Anatomy and Flash Forward because I would be too tired to stay awake. I have started going on Friday's which for some might be insanity, but for me it makes perfect sense:

1. The gym is empty cause everyone else is drinking and liming
2. Empty gym means more access to the machines I want
3. Going out drinking means empty calories I can do without
4. Going out drinking means spending money on empty calories I can do without, when I can save that money to buy cute handbags and matching wraps

I am on a mission to get into my favourite grey pants by July. God help me, if I have to eat rice cakes and go to the gym on Sunday morning too, I will do it.

But... at least I am coordinated like no other.


It doesn't look too appetising does it? They're multigrain rice cakes, with not a speck of sugar, but I love them and when I feel snack-ish, I grab one. To my credit, I have had a small Haagen Dazs in the freezer since Saturday and have not touched it yet. Too tired to eat? Maybe.

Yesterday I resumed weight training. It was not too bad. I had to keep looking for my trainer who was over-subscribed and that's not fun because I felt like a search-and-rescue dog after my sets. But the trainers are very personable and helpful.

I was telling a girlfriend just yesterday that so far I had been impressed by both the men and the women in the gym. The men, because none tried to pick me up, and the women for being serious about working out and not there to model and distract the staff.

I spoke too soon. First there was the girl in the changing room. Full makeup bag and there she was fixing her eyeliner and putting on powder and lipgloss. I rolled my eyes and thought this girl was a twat. Later, while I was sweating away on the elliptical I saw her gingerly step on the treadmill and I took in the outfit - short dark blue tights, with a glittery yellow belt (yes...a sequined yellow belt!!!), black training shirt, gold bangles and rings, hoop earrings. I mean, was she walking on the treadmill or the catwalk? And she was not even that hot. Actually she was pretty rugsy looking but hey, who am I to bash other people's self confidence? She lasted maybe 4 minutes strolling on the treadmill before she got up and walked aimlessly across the floor, texting on her cell phone. My God!

Then upstairs in the weight room, this dude who not only smelled like a hobo but looked like one too kept looking at me and smiling and then wherever I was, there he was. Dude...go away. And when I am pushing iron, I am not trying to focus on you focusing on me. It's really annoying.

I spotted runway princess in the corner leaning against one of the machines, chatting with a trainer and just being pointless.

I have been good though. I have not openly rollled my eyes at anyone or given anyone the eye or been sarcastic. I put on my music and go into my world, where contentment is queen! Despite the tiring effects on already tired limbs, it's the most relaxing part of my day.

Vacationzilla - The Female Solo Travelling Beast

After hoping the damn ash cloud would have some impact on the capitalist minds of airline ticketers, and then seeing the exact opposite of what I expected, i.e. skyrocketing airfare as opposed to dipping airfare, I finally booked my ticket and vacation planning is officially underway. There are bridezillas and then there are vacationzillas. I am a Vacationzilla like no other. I mean, I know how to search out a deal and stress over planning to stick within a budget. Trust me, this process by itself is a blog!

And if one has got no cute, rich husband to fall back on, it all comes to dollars and cents - MY dollars and cents. While I embrace my independence and rock my "I glad I could just pick up myself and go" lifestyle, the money issues are all mine when it comes to planning that awesome vacation. So don't think I am overreacting when a rat's nest is trying to pass itself off as a 4-star hotel. My money has sense. I do budgets for vacations cause not only am I cute, but I am sensible and though I may joke about having to eat Crix for the next few months after vacation, I don't actually want to. I love me some Crix but let's get serious. There is life after vacay and it does not include Crix au gratin.

But looking forward to it. The vacation, not so much the planning, and definitely not the packing.

What on earth have Saturdays come to?

Aerobics - scary on so many levels.
I was up until after 1 this morning tinkering with the damn blog template and I am still not thrilled with it, but that's not the point. I had committed to going to the gym early so why on earth did I stay up so late?? When the alarm went off after 6, I cursed under my breath but still managed a quick shower and a change into battle gear.

I had decided to give the aerobics class a shot today. I used to avoid the aerobics class at one of my other gyms - avoid it like the plague. It seems as though that memory had been lost in the deep, dark recesses of my mind cause had I remembered the agony of such classes, I would never have put myself through the torture. Let me spell it out for you - I hate aerobics. I seem to always get the gay instructor whose aim in life is to 'mash up' women out of some past grievance against their sisters or female cousins for oh, I dunno...stinging them with their jockey shorts waistbands. This one was no different. It's not the keeping up part, but it's the showing off I cannot handle. The "I can do plenty fancy moves with such speed that by the time you catch on, I add another fancy move" showing off. But misery loves company and fortunately, with the exception of Superwoman in front of me, everyone else seemed to be just as aerobically challenged this morning. But for my first class in maybe 5 years, I managed to not catspraddle on the gym floor. Go me! But I think that will be my last class still.

Add an hour of equipment cardio to that, and you get Bad Hair Saturday. Jesus. And considering it was also a movie/lunch Saturday, this was unacceptable. This gym thing has its perks, like weight loss and conditioning, but it also wrecks any posibility of a good hair Saturday, the one day you can let the hair just wild out in the Trini breeze. Thank God for head scarves, caps and wigs for staving off disaster.

IronMan 2 was the focus of movie day and it was good for the most part. RDJ is one of those actors who totally overpowers any one else's star power, or maybe it was planned that way cause does anyone remember that Gwyneth Paltrow and Scarlett Johannssen were also in the movie? No. I should correct myself. The WOMEN in the movie were invisible. Just a couple pretty faces with no bite. Mickey Rourke was excellent and I hate to admit it, but Don Cheadles was a better Rhodey than Terrence Howard. Having gotten little sleep and then 2hrs of cardio this morning, one would not be surprised that I caught some quick winks. Then add the heat and running around in said heat to get that last minute Mum's Day gift, supplies for the Mum's Day lunch and it was just an awesomely tiring day.

I recall Saturdays when I used to be hot, in the fabulous sense. Where did those days go?

...and Gym Shoes

This is my debut post on this blog, so cheers! I will still be using my other blog of course, but this is for the stuff outside the realm of work. Please blogroll me if you do have a blog, or subscribe or bookmark me. You know you want to be here. You just know it!
So I guess I can announce that I started back hardcore working this week. With some info soliciting from Jillian, I signed up and I had my first gym day on Wednesday. Lots of expanding waistlines around me so I did not feel too bad, especially after I caught my reflection in the changing room and the sheer terror set in. I will still eat chocolates, but I may never eat a roti again.

Okay, let's be real. I will eat roti, but all things in moderation.

But I wanted to share this via a Facebook update yesterday, but somehow I felt it needed some attention. There was a young lady in the gym and the first thing that caught my attention was her general hygiene. Yes, she was in a gym and one sweats in a gym but damn. She needed an intervention. Then, and this was the part that floored me, she went to the locker to get her bag so she could shower and change (Hallelujah!). But there was a collective "NAH" from both the angel on the right shoulder and the cheeky cute devil on my left, as she pulled out the bag containing her drawers, soap, towel, makeup etc.

A so and so HI-LO plastic bag.

Now this is my thing. The gym membership is not cheap, so if you are rolling your eyes at me and suggesting that maybe she cannot afford a duffel bag, then un-roll them, please. I mean, with all the giveaways from bmobile and Digicel in recent times, to me everyone has some kinda bag. If not, there are lots of cheap shops where one can purchase a cheap gym bag. But to come in your branded Adidas sweat tights and expensive sneakers, with your panties in a Hi-Lo bag is just unacceptable.

Ladies, please...don't do it.

In any event, I am committing myself to aerobics this afternoon. God help me!

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