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March 03, 2006

Bust Up In Dat Ass Wit Da Resurrection

There are metal heads in and out of this house at all hours of the night. I rather like these metal heads though because they are very polite. Always leave the seat down, always say hello to me, always say thank you and they always smoke outside on the porch. And they never slam the front door!

It all started when J got a call to produce a couple songs for this local band. Total metal. They scream and they do heavy guitar breakdowns that go ju ju ju ju ju. Call me crazy, but I love a metal breakdown. Naturally, J was into doing this because it gave him a reason to go down in that basement studio and tinker around with all those machines and little buttons for hours and hours. I obviously don’t go in that room except to empty the garbage because after three days it’s brimming with Dunkin Donuts cups and I can’t take it. I Febreze everything too while I’m in there. It never fails! Nine dudes in a room get funky. Why is that? What are y’all doing in there?

So for weeks, these boys would stream in and out of the house at random hours. J would juggle his office and his studio time which meant very little time for me. And that’s okay because since I moved here in May last year, I was very well tended to. We just smothered each other all day, playing house and annoying everyone around us with our public hugs and affection. I must say, I might have even grossed myself out a couple times. Like, did I just call him “my pumpkin baby” in front of y’all? Sorry.

Now, because J would do his studio sessions either here or in Queens I would be left trying to do my pure tranquility yoga to the sound of a dude screaming his face off about disloyalty or worse, I’d be here alone with only Oprah and a hot cup of green tea. I would actually sit here alone, visualizing my meeting with Oprah which would spawn a whole (awake) dream of my friendship with her. Yes, Oprah and I have been in the steam room discussing those Prada boots Madonna gave her (in my mind).

Speaking of Oprah, and completely off topic, do any of you clean your house to Oprah’s standards? I compulsively believe that one day Oprah will be on my doorstep asking to come in for some strange reason where I will be honored (for what reason, I don’t know) and my house will be in complete order. I say to J, if Oprah came in here right now, what would she say? He rolls his eyes, but he better appreciate this compulsion because it keeps this house functioning, I swear it.

But now I’m not alone, you see.

Manny, J’s bassist is in town for the first time in forever since he’s been on tour with this other band. When he’s not recording his bass parts, he’s quite a character. He sits at my kitchen table calculating his crushes on MySpace like a weirdo. Since the demise of J’s tour last summer, all the other bandmates just went off to do their other bands. Durijah (pronounced du-rah-zha, cute huh?), the drummer moved to the south but somehow managed to drive up here to do studio shit. J got the bug after producing a couple songs for the metal band and I’m really happy for him. I have to say, if you’ve ever dated a musician and you survived his constant percussion on all surfaces (including your own body – must you tap on my arm like that?) and his incessant need to watch all music channels at all times (including in his sleep), then you know how it feels to see him light up when he’s onto something. Keeping it real, I’m just so excited I don’t have to fall asleep to the Floetry Live DVD anymore. Everyone in my dreams would be sweating with cornrows. !? Edited to add: No, the Floetry DVD stays. Had more of it last night and this morning. I can't wait until he moves on to his Mint Condition Live DVD, for real.

So Manny stays at the house while J goes off to the office and they resume the studio shit in the afternoon. This is when I go off and get involved in my other obsessions including but not limited to babies, eBay, cardio and Project Runway. Yes, yes, if you must know, I’ve recently become obsessed with babies. However, this is not my fault. It’s the clock. I see Marisa Tomei in that 80s outfit slamming her foot on the porch in My Cousin Vinny every time I think about the clock. Well, shit it’s ticking and that’s not my fault. My non existent babies have names and outfits (little cotton dashikis if you have to get that deep in my business). I know exactly what you’re thinking – bitch crazy – I know. What pills can I take?

So what’s a typical day in my life like now that J has been musically resurrected?

I wake up at 6 when J wakes up and I say, “Are y’all recording drums today?” and depending on what he says, I map out my day. If yes, then it looks like a nice full day of helping out his fabulous accounts payable department (all glamorous girls with a penchant for gossip and tattoos) at his office. Or a nice long night in Target debating whether or not the Target fake Cheerios will taste like real Cheerios (they don’t). This is where all my buyer’s remorse sets in but I set a goal. I say I am allowed to spend $14 and that’s it. You’d be surprised at all the things you can purchase there for only that amount. When will I use all these cotton squares though?

If it’s not drums and instead it’s the guitar or the bass, I can totally handle that. Then I can start my day off by logging on to Instant Messenger and talk to Coral. After that, I put on my kicks and do cardio on the elliptical for a long ass time while reading a magazine. Last month, all I had was the Lucky magazine with Nicole Richie on the cover and every time she looked back at me, I was like, let me get off this machine. Girl is starving. Sorry, but it’s true. Lionel, can’t you see! Is there anything you can do to help? HELLO, it’s you she’s looking for man, help her!

After that, I shower, exfoliate, moisturize, all the while visualizing that all this maintenance will mean that I can look like Kelly Ripa post babies. Look, visualizing is the key. I’ve been to many exotic locations with Oprah and Gayle and Coral getting Taiwanese pedicures and cracking up about the time Denzel just stopped by unannounced! Oh that Denzel. Visualizing hilarious scenarios of straight up success and/or debauchery only takes a few seconds a day and it has almost cured me of my negativity. That’s a white lie. I do still have to hate, well strongly dislike, some things. Wicked Wisdom for example…

Then eye cream intact, I sit at this computer and write. Some days the cursor just blinks for a couple hours. Other days, I’m going off. And you’re like, well you ain’t writing for PrincessMelissa because damn girl, you don’t never update yo shit. I know, right? Sorry, boo, you have to be reminding me.

Well, to be perfectly honest, this is the world wide web and my writing for this is very sporadic because a) I’m working diligently on something else and b) I’m actually happy and don’t quite know what to write about here. I am at a place in my life where I’m confident and excited and with that happiness comes many layers of secrecy. I don’t know why. To reassure myself, I asked LittleBigChris about his blogging patterns and he was like, “I haven't posted on my blog since January because I'm happy man.” I won’t go into just how happy he is but it has a lot to do with love and Broadway! See, happiness = blog death and I am not alone.

It’s simply easier to talk about fluff like how Santino is getting backed into a very sad reality bubble where everybody likes him when he’s telling jokes but they’re all so over him when he’s talking shit (true shit that needs to be said, by the way). And e’rybody on there talks shit but for some reason Santino is the focus and I really hope that doesn’t break his spirit and turn him inward. I sympathize.

Now back to me, me, me. Everything lately is about me and how happy I am. Wouldn’t you get sick of me being like, “Today is the greatest day because I made some new friends and we went to Atlantic City where we encountered a crazy close talker…”? You’d be so over me being like, “J is the bomb because today he made my ketchup in the shape of the heart only for this gesture to be ruined by later cutting a huge swastika into my Rice Krispie treats, but still, J is the bomb…” Yeah, you’d be annoyed! I’ll keep all that stupidity to myself.

But this entry is a practice in revealing my every day life and more about what I am doing. Not to gross you out, but I’m in fucking love or something. I’m confident with my little writing project – so confident that I’m talking about it out loud. My best friend in the world is starting a new career where she gets paid to chime in and gossip which is, like, our favorite activity. My boyfriend has been inspired to record an album and that just makes him happy in a stressed out way. He’s happiest when he has no time to think or chat and I’m like cool, now he won’t say “this is the dumbest show ever” in the middle of my Style Me With Rachel Hunter. Shhhh. The lady-man with the lisp is talking! J’s sister is getting ready to have a baby which means more baby time for me. It’s all lining up, I tell you.

This must be how Gwen Stefani feels. All pregnant, stylish, rich and happy. Ugh. It's the same minus the baby, outfits and cash, but still. I love it but am somehow scared to death at the same time!

Posted by melissah at March 3, 2006 05:39 PM