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Sunday, February 27, 2011

Hey Ya'll

I am so sorry that I have been abandoning ya'll. If I would have written you earlier in the week, I would have been writing you from a place of great emotional distress. And I didn't want that, couldn't have it. Here is the deal: I am on deadline, Connie and I got in a major argument, my brother may have to leave college, and, for the cherry on top: I am missing Mardi Gras for the first time in eight years! I was really in a stink guys.
Now, I am kind of in a Que Sera Sera type of mood. I have a 1,000 stories due, but please believe me when I say that I am spiritually drained. Dorothy has invited me to stay with her in Nashville for a minute. I think I will take her up on the offer. I just need to spiritually regroup in a positive environment. I am no super Christian, but I am here to holler, there is a difference between being tired and being spiritually drained. Can I get an Amen?

Sunday, February 20, 2011

The Petina Pan Complex

I don't dislike attractive women, or women that think that they are, in the same way that I don't dislike women with relaxers or those serious flat iron jobs. But I have to be honest, they annoy me with their ENDLESS tips on how to improve my looks, the way that permies annoy me, always asking me if I have ever considered what my hair would look like straight; the way that skinny people annoy me forever asking me if I have ever thought of going on a diet.
I have coined it "The Petina Pan Complex"- the need for some, as a self-proclaimed pretty people, to spred their style tips to what they consider to be the beauty disenfranchised. For some reason, I always get these UNASKED FOR suggestions the closer it gets to the warm months. I guess the Petina's, always thinking of others, want me to be cute for the summer.
Dear Petina, do me a hug fav and sit down! I don't know if you got the email toots, but I am cute! Fat with kinky hair yes, but cute!
The great part- Atlanta is Petina Town!
Eye roll.

Couchie Clipping

Yesterday I was chatting with my editor, and she asked me why I didn't arch my eyebrows. I told her I was a fan of the Burt from Sesame Street look.
Then she goes, "Well, I hope you shave that," and gave me a head nod to the lap.
I had to disappoint her. Nope, I don't do anything to the ol' croch. No triming, shaving, waxing, nothing. For a brief minute, I almost let Fran talk me into getting a Brazillian, but then I woke up. That would have been crazy!
I guess you could tip your hat to my refusal to "maintain" my lady parts to laziness and being freaked out. No one is going to see my vag but me, so I really have no need to do anything with it, other than, of course, wash it.
Plus, I give the side eye to women that want a 2 year old looking jayjay and I give the arm fold eye roll to men who like them too. Why? Um...I'm sure you've seen enough Law and Order SVU episodes to guess.
So, not taking my editor's advice, I'm keeping my vag as is because it's mine and I can. I hit puberty at 12 and have NO desire to go back in time.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

YUCK!

So, I can hear my roommate having sex right now.
YUCK!
I have put on my headphones but, during the split second it takes for the playlist to go to the next song, I can hear one of her moans.
Excuse me as I roll over in a hole and die. GROSS!
Luckily, when I was in school, I was spared the whole sex/ roommate thing. We couldn't have visitors Freshman year, my Sophomore roomie was a lesbian that had a girlfriend off campus, my roomie junior year had a boyfriend back home and would fly home stand by once a month to go visit, and my roomie senior year spent all of her time out of the room because I was a terrible roommate (story for another post, another time).
I think God spared me because he knew how grossed and weirded out I would be if I heard anytype of questionable noise going on in my room outside of a snore.
And now this.
Tis are the joys of living with someone else in their house, particularly someone who largely doesn't give a fuck.
Eyeroll. Ewwwww....

Who is Peggy Moffitt?

Vintage Virgin, a vintage clothing fashion blogger, said that she draws inspiration from Peggy

Moffitt. I didn't know who she was, and then I found this cool video.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

What is a Feminist?

I consider myself to be a feminist, which is interesting, because Kinfolk informed me yesterday that a feminist is simply an angry lesbian that can not get a date. So if you were ever wondering what a feminist was exactly, lol, here is your definition, courtesy of Kinfolk.

Tippity Toe

So last year before all of my dating dramatics, I joined a dating site for fatties.
I know, it sounds silly, but I had to find my niche, you know? And although I do not go on the site often, I get email updates that tell me that men have favorited my profile. This makes me smile.
And it makes me think that maybe it is time to fully put the tragic examples of Boy I Went On Date With and FauxMega behind me and tippity toe back onto the dating scene. I know that I said that I sworn off men. And I did. But summer is a comin' around the corner, and, due to the sales I have taken advantage of, I will be looking my most devastating in new maxi dresses. I will also be at my most horniest, so yes, bring on the boys (I kid, I kid...I think).
Surfing the fatty site, I get excited. It's like shopping for new shoes! All of these single men with their gross topless bathroom pics and cheesy "About Me" section taglines. I get getty just thinking about it! Yes, it is now time to cautiously yet happily tippity toe back onto to the scene.

Candied

I was able to make it out of Valentine's Day without going into a mental break, thank God.
So today, to reward myself, I walked on down to the drugstore and stocked up on half-priced chocolates that I don't need. But I would be lying if I said that they weren't YUMMY! However, I fear that I overdid it on those milk chocolate Dove hearts. My face is going to look like Hellraiser's come mornin'. But in my defense, you can't eat just one! They melt in your mouth.
Happy Belated V-Day to all of you adorable little readers. I would suggest you get to your neighborhood Rite Aid before all the candy is gone.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Numbers Game

There is an article in Marie Claire Magazine this month called "What's Your Number?" The article asked different women how many people they have had sex with, and gave a brief description of their jobs and how they felt about sex.
Here were the numbers: 0, 6, 20, 30, and 100. And with the exception of the virgin, they talked about how they like sex, didn't mind doing chicks, and didn't feel like they had to apologize. The attitude: boys do it, why should I feel bad? Ah...dick envy.
I really liked the story, but all I could think about is that how if any of these women were Black with the exception of the virgin, they would have been labeled hoes! Why is there a difference in Black and White cultural definitions of being promiscuous? Should promiscuity be stigmatized? Should a woman expect sexual equality along with her wage and employment equality, or is that just a pipe wish we have so that we don't feel so bad about being slut puppies?
I am 26 and many of my girlfriends are sliding into the sexual double digets like a fresh pair of Louboutins. And they will openly talk about it with me, but with the guys they are with, they keep that info under their hats for the most part. And after talking to some of my guy friends about it, they have good reason to. Apparently, the easy girl is fun to have sex with, but not someone you take seriously (like our granny's told us).
Last night P said something interesting. "If you have been with tons of dudes, what are you going to do with me that you haven't done with everybody?"
Dudes want to be exclusive? LOL, who knew?

Notes from the Elder 2: Yucky Old Men

When I was a kid growing up in East Point, there was a man in my neighborhood I would see around that would always ask me what I learned in school. And he would want a real answer, so I would always think of something to say while I was on the school bus just in case I saw him. I was incredibly distrustful of men in my community, but he was cool. Fast forward maybe about 10 years, I found myself dodging him. He went from asking me about homework to wanting to know if I had a boyfriend and if I wanted one. He would look at me funny. It was really inappropriate, and I remember feeling like he had only taken an interest in me in the beginning just so I could get barely legal and he could try to smash me. I was soooo disappointed.
Yesterday, at the laundry mat, I met a guy that reminded me of him, only he was hella old and REEKED of alcohol...before noon. He was being really flirty with me, and I responded by half smiling and texting in his face, not really paying attention. But boy oh boy, did he like looking at the teen cursing girls. At one point, I got a glimpse of him literally staring at one girl's booty with his mouth opened.
Fast forward to last night. At the bus station, there were two girls that were clearly 14. I assume they were about this age because, listening to their conversation, they were saying that they wanted to go to the movies, but wanted to go to a theatre at a mall where there was a Claire's. Claire's? They had to be tweens...although one of them was incredibly STACKED! She had huge boobs and a huge behind which was a real attention getter, seeing that she was wearing leggings as pants. Yet still, I could tell by her braces and gum smacking that she was in fact a kid. This didn't stop the men at the station from grabbing at her yelling gross phrases at her and her buddy.
So here is the question: when did the older Black man go from the leader of the community to the predator? Or has he always been both and I am just now old enough to notice? Either way, yikes! Just another community issue to add to the list.

Notes from the Elder

There is clearly nothing for teens to do in my community because I discovered yesterday as I washed that they like to hang out in the laundry mat.
And that is fine. I'd rather have them chillin' on top of the washing machines than mugging me or selling dope, even though when I was 16, you couldn't pay me to go to the laundry mat if I didn't have to!
I am only ten years older than the kids I saw at the mat yesterday, but I felt like I was completely detached from them. They were so disrespectful to each other. The way they talked to each other in casual conversation would have started fights with somebody when I was a kid. And the cursing...YIKES! Never ending.
The other adults in the mat just ignored them, speed folding their clothes to get out of there. This saddened to me. Do you know how many times I was gripped up by random adults that I didn't know when I was a kid? Countless times! And I feel better for it. It was not that long ago when I had a smart mouth and crotchet braids. What has happened? We have grown so scared of kids that we'd rather them embarrass themselves and each other before we speak up because we don't want them to kill us! We are doing them a major disservice. Major.

Wandering in the Dark

I was super excited about this event I was supposed to cover yesterday. There were supposed to be a lot of industry people there, and it was sponsored by Ciroc. I know right? But I don't think it was meant to be.
For one, I almost missed the bus leaving my house. Then, when I got to Midtown, I was nearly hit by an ambulance. After I got off the bus, I began to walk to the event, but I had to go through this weird industrial area that looked like someplace Tony Soprano would have a body dumped! He wouldn't go there himself because there were no sidewalk or street lights, and every two seconds, I was dodging a car!
Needless to say, when I got to the part of the street that was too dark for me to even see a step a head of myself, I turned on my flats and walked back to the bus stop. I wanted to mingle with the media who's who, but I didn't want to end up the theme for an episode of CSI. Ah, the joys of traveling solo in the city.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Nail Bling

My new favorite nail color: OPI's Teenage Dream from the Katy Perry line. LOVE IT!

Introducing Jimmy Hendrix

I don't know if I ever told you this, but Connie has a cat, and his name is Jimmy Hendrix, aka Jimmy bka Fatass Cat. I hate him and love him at the same time. I love him because he is ENORMOUS and he reminds me of a fat, furry baby. I hate him because he creeps around and hides in corners and occasionally scratches. OK, bye Jimmy.

V-Day

Valentine's Day is in a couple of days, and to my surprise, I am not sad and bitter.
I mean true, I would love to be going out to dinner with Lance Gross, but that is totally not going to happen. I would also like to be going to see the Justin Bieber movie with a nice guy I met online or elsewhere, but I can not say that I have put forth any energy into finding a date.
I am find-a-date-exhausted from three months ago. I'm done.
I have to say that I am proud of myself for being so cool right now, but there are still three days left. Valentine's Day I could wake up in a panic, hoping to find someone as desperate as me on Craigslist to go to Chili's with.
But I will tell you what I'm not going to do. I'm not going to dress up all sexy just to get on the bus and go spend good money on some romantically named dinner at my local tavern just to go home and not get any action. If anything, I will probably oil my scalp and watch The Golden Girls on Youtube.
Either way, I am looking forward to February 15th when all the picked over V-Day candy goes on sale. Mmmmm, milk chocolate in the shape of hearts. Gotta love it.
I have so many friends that don't fit into any of these categories.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Delusional Love

My homie has a homie that is in love with her. We will call her...Daisy. And my friend has tried to be as gentle with Daisy as possible as to not hurt her feelings, but Daisy doesn't take hints well. She is totally smitten and a serial texter. I suggested she do something passive aggressive like change her number. Homie refuses. I don't see this girl going away anytime soon, and I pray it doesn't end in with crying.
Truth be told, I am a total Daisy, sadly. It's funny because I see the hints, I just flat out disregard them. Most recently Daisy moment: last night. I was talking to P (I hear your sighs) and he was talking about how much he wants to get married and how the men at his mosque were setting him up with this lady. And I was thinking to myself. "Silly boy, don't you know you are talking to your wife?" Ha! Then he was telling me about how he met some lady at the Boost Mobile stand and they are going out on a date. This didn't bother me because I expect this to go nowhere. Why? Well, natural, until he starts dating me, all his relationships will be fruitless. Crazy right? I know it's crazy, but what can I say, I'm a Daisy.
UGH! Enough with these Youtube commercials! That is all...

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Oh Amber with your beautiful self and beautiful boobies, why oh why are you naked on the Internet today? Who were you sending these pics to and most importantly, where did you get that super cute kimono? Seriously, it's adorable! If I had boobs like Rosie's...ah...the possibilities.

Ouch!

I have been bitten by the hater bug this morning!
Damn it, I don't think that I have been awake for ten minutes!
This hater thing, it's a sickness, it really is.
Wish I knew the cure. I'm thinking it's self improvement. But if I were president of something or friggin' Chanel Iman, I think I would still be hatin'.
Somebody call Dr. Drew! I need rehabilitation from this! I can't imagine being 70 and still hatin', just like I couldn't imagine being 80 and still getting perms...but then I went natural.
What is the natural cure for hatin'?
Sigh.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Flashback Backtrack

So I am up early this morning. I can't say that I know why, but I am. To entertain myself, I was on Youtube, looking up random videos, when I decided to look up "Sex is on My Mind" by Blu Light, a song I haven't heard in a while and a song that I really like. Any who, the song was not on for three seconds before I realized why I haven't heard it in a while: it is the song that reminds me of the disaster that was FauxMega.
Now, I am feeling shitty about myself and slutty and for some reason, scared. Not sure exactly where the fear comes into play, but it is definitely there. Note to self: "Sex is on My Mind" is a no-no song. I can never listen to it again. Man, if I keep assigning songs to men who have done me wrong, I probably won't even be able to listen to the radio by the time I am 30!

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Chaka Demus & Pliers - Murder She Wrote


I remember people trying to make the butterfly look sexy.
But I realize as an adult that that was one silly dance.

Reggae

I find that I have been listening to a lot of Reggae lately. If you would have asked me just last month, I would have told you that the only Reggae song that I liked was Flex by Mad Cobra. And that is only because it puts me in mind of being felt up at Q parties as a Freshman. But, after doing an all-day Youtube purge on Island Jams, I find that Reggae is the perfect soundtrack for my fantasies of epic romance and off feet sweeping love...although I am not sure what most of the Reggae singers are saying. The most important thing: most of the songs I hear make me smile and, dare I say, leave me tempted to touch.

Ready to Get Married

I was telling P (and I can feel you rolling your eyes) that I have this need to take care of a male. Like, I used to take care of my brother, but he is going to be 20 in May and has no need anymore for my hand holding. P said I feel this way because I am ready to get married. Um...yikes! Not sure about that! At the least, I need a boytoy or a part-time gig as a maid.

Reveal

The other day I saw the commercial for Reveal, the new Halle Berry perfume with Cinnamon, and for 30 seconds, we just stared at the TV with our mouths open.
"Damn! I got to go get me some of that!" Cinnamon said, munching on her Lay's Originals.
Oh, if I was Halle Berry, all the things I could do through hypnotizing people with my sex appeal! All the things I could get done in a day! The things I could convince people to do! I shake my head at the endless possibilities. Ah...to dream a little dream.