Its Friday Muthafuckas!!!

And by next week I will be having sex in California for a whole week!!! Woo-hoo!

I will fly into LA Thursday morning.

Drive to San Francisco for the weekend.

Chill hard in LA where I will fuck in Pop Bergman's Le Baron (its a Chyrsler!)

So happy to be getting out of the fucking city. Praise the Lord!

I hope my plane doesn't crash.

Happy Friday.

Just wanted to say...

That I am SOOOOO sick of bitches!

Thank you.

Yo, is she like a disco dyke!?!

I cut all my hair off. I am now rocking what Nichelle Newsletter aptly described at Sunday Grrl Brunch as the Single Black Female style. Part butch/part pixie- I like it. Sax likes it. His ex-gf who stayed with us this weekend liked it too. She rocks the part butch/part pixie style too which she buzzes herself of course cuz she's an artist and wears flannel shirts to bars instead of pearls and blue eyeshadow like us New York bohemians do... I think New York style is more stylized than LA style where the ex-gf resides... where Sax is from too.

Lex: Is she like a disco dyke?

Sax: I don't know. You want me to ask her?

What Lex meant was 'frisco dyke as in the Snoop song but whatever. She asked me this at Planet Rose on Friday just before we brought the house down with our rendition of Rebel Rebel by David Bowie. Then we tore the roof off again with Say It Aint So by Weezer.

Sax was a total ham stealing the mic away from me, rapping to the songs while Lex and I put our bare feet on him causing him to sport a semi for most of the night. The ex-gf just sat there like a sad sack. That place wasn't her bag and her $6 Sierra Nevada solidified that. We went to Orchard Bar afterwards which was dancing time fun.

I confronted him on Sunday.

Yummicoco: Why did you take the mic away from me?

Sax: Cuz your pitch was off.

I guess he takes Kareoke (sp?) seriously.

After Sunday Grrl Brunch, Aeki Tuesday talked me down from buying a $99 sweater from Club Monaco but did not discourage me from buying a $76 10k goldplated nameplate from some ghetto place on Delancey for which I left a $10 deposit. Go figure. We had a great shopping day in Soho filled with sneakers, brown dresses and an army hat to match my new disco dyke look.

Anyway, got to get back to work. The ex-gf left this morning with Sax. I was the most trusting girlfriend this weekend even though I did have bouts of insecurity. She's an artist. They have a history... But I am way cuter.

Sax: Fuck ya. You're beautiful.

Composer Burt Bacharach pens first lyrics of his career

I thought that he wrote the lyrics to all of those songs- I guess he wrote just the music. Anyway, this is the thought that is coursing in my brain at the moment. I don't feel like working. I am exhausted. I am also wearing the most unconforable pink and brown platforms.

Anyway, so I have been up since 4:30am. I watched as Sax played in front of the WB Plaza for the local morning show. He had a big toothpaste stain on his shirt in signature Sax style.

The drummer picked us up around 5:30. I ate my polenta and salami in the car as we headed to midtown (across from Mcfadden's) We get there. I bring my empty plate along with me so as not to dirty up Drummer's car.

Sax (in front of security): couldn't you have just left that in the car?

So he walked back to the car with the plate as I sat in the weather girl's chair. When I realized that it was her's, she was head- down into her sidekick- blackberry- thing. I said "sorry" for sitting in her chair. She merely replied "ump" which is the Haitian word for judgement so I judged her as a bitch in my head while she sat down in her chair not missing a beat.

Donnie Wahlberg was on this morning looking most refreshed. I actually got a pidder-patter as I watched him in his black pinstrip jacket and hip hip soul cap that hid his receeding hairline so perfectly... "Step by Step. oooh baby. Gonna get to you girrrrl."

Getting old is a bitch.

Take a penny, Leave a penny

Funny thing that I have noticed lately is that there are a lot of tip jars at places you would not normally see a tip jar. Dunkin Donuts is a place that comes to mind. Specifically, the only near my job. I realized that one could not "take a penny" after trying to do so ($1.41 worth) out of the cashier's large coffee cup filled with change and singles. I did not have any money. My coffee cost $1.41... They would have had more than enough in the jar if I took a $1.41... I go in there every day... So I deserve to take some money in the spirit of loyalty and good business.

Indian Cashier Lady: You come here everyday to take our change.

I chickened out and my co-worker paid for my coffee.

Which is actually how I met Alexis. I was standing on a coffee line. No money but in the market to buy a latte. I knew something would work out for me. Either I would take from the tip jar or they would have to accept my 50 cents... but a stranger offered me money instead...and then she became my friend.

The other day I bought shoes from a new shop on 14th and 5th avenue. The dude would not take my AMEX so I had to pay him with my mastercard, knowing that I had just enough to pay my rent on that card.... I knew that Sax would bail me out and he did. Thanks.

So what about my tip jar? Why am I such a bum?

Funny, I was reading the new issue of SOMA on the F train when all of a sudden out of the corner of my eye, I see a homeless woman and a dirty coffee cup like two inches from my face.

homeless woman shaking coffee cup in my face: miss, hello...hi...hello...

As if that was my cue to open my bag and give her some money. She walks to the next straphanger "hello... hi... hello" while I keep my head down waiting for her to move away from me. Finally, I look up so as to check her out while her back was turned. Other than a bloodied IV needle and bandage and a hospital bracelet to match, her hair looked really good.

So anyway, now I am home alone. I watched ROME which is pretty cool even though they have white Egyptians with thick coarse braids. I love the more man-nish solider (the bald one, not the guy from Transpotting) and Marc Anthony.

You asked for it.

Last night, as I was cutting salami to add to my omelette (eggs for dinner for the poverty stricken) and talking to Pickle on my cell, one of Sax's Drummers came into the Kitchen with Sax looking for sugar.

Yummicoco: We don't have any...

Pickle (cellphone): You are not a very good wifey.

After Sax show at Spoken Words (4th ave/Union Street in Brooklyn every Monday), I rushed him along as he was slowly getting himself together.

Sax: I guess Wifey wants to go home.

About two months ago at Hollywood Video one night, the cashier asked Sax how he wanted my name filed as under his account.

Sax: wifey

So basically, my point is that I am a wifey.

We argue about bookshelves being placed in a corner or paintings on a certain wall or about his slobbery and how he is an animal. I try to show him how to properly wash dishes then he calls me obsessive compulsive.

I yell that I will leave him as soon as I get some money. He says "Good". Then we laugh because we are poor and will probably never leave Brooklyn or each other. I take a big spoon of nutella. He smokes his cigar. Then we make out and we talk about starting a band.

What are you doing...I was a penis for Halloween last year...

Its 4 in the morning and I am blogging. I am wide awake. Thinking about my job and what I need to accomplish by tomorrow(today), wondering if its that strong cup of Gorilla coffee that's keeping me up.

Or maybe it was the angry quilter?

Next door to my job, there is a small quilting shop that has been getting rained on by our air conditioner. Its really not that serious but there is a noticable puddle on the sidewalk in front of his store.

The angry quilter first appeared one day last month. My desk is in front of the elevator because I am an assistant. He came upstairs. I smiled thinking "what a cute old man. He looks like Santa's nebbishly skinny little brother...his beard is so white, so fluffy...ah! his bifoculs are hanging on his neck by a strap... how sweet"

Yummicoco: hello!

Angry Quilter: Yeah, your air conditioner is seriously leaking and its getting on my customers. Its against the law to have water dripping on people!

IS IT? AC water or as I like to call it, Urban Rain, drips on my head all the time in this city.

Angry Quilter: Yeah, so when are you going to get that fixed?

Yummicoco: Right away.

I did not look into it. I was hoping that it would just go away, that Fall would end the need of an AC. He came back a couple of times after that. I told my boss. He told me to tell the business manager. I did. Then, last week, as luck would have it, the leaking stopped.

Then the AC started to leak again this past Monday and by Tuesday I got yelled at by the Angry Quilter on the street in front of my job while the Building Manager and Rudy the UPS man look on like pussies.

Angry Quilter: This is bullshit... I am going to report you... This is against the law you know...You thought that this would just go away since its Fall... I want this cleared up by five...

I held my ground though... Telling him that I informed my boss but I was not authorized to make any executive decisions... That I was not going to continue arguing in the streets... That it will get taken care of...


Anyway, I told my boss... gave him Quilter's card... my boss laughed when I said that "I could take him" after he said "Don't worry about that Quilter. It'll get taken care of"

So, its now 5 pm Tuesday, The Angry Quilter arrives, pissed(but still adorable and old). "I am ready to meet your boss..."


Yummicoco: I am sorry but he is not available.

Angry Quilter: You are so obnoxious the way that you have led me on... I am going to report you... I am going to call the cops or something...

Yummicoco (thinking): So cute and fluffy... why can't you just get over it?

OK! So now the punchline:

We have a shitty elevator that takes days to come onto our floor.

After berating me (and berating me all of those times before) he is forced to stand in front of my desk to wait for the elevator.

He yells. He calls the elevator. He stands waiting as if he has left my office and is now in the lobby when in actuality he is in front of my desk. So, I sit there (bearly 2 feet away) watching him stand there in silence dying from supressed giggling because I am five, wondering how soft his beard really is...