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Thursday, December 30, 2010

And The Winner Is...................

I know most blogs and/or television networks usually compile a "Best & Worst of (insert the year)" list honoring the highs and lows that occurred within the past several months. On the same token, I would like to highlight some of the questionable folks that graced us with their presence this year.


Jumpoff of the Year: Tiger Woods' mistress(es)



This year it seemed that everyone and their mama had done the unmentionable with Tiger Woods when the now infamous scandal first surfaced. Hell, if I weren't black, I would have thought I had an affair with Tiger Woods too. Since the initial spectacle, I haven't heard much regarding any other indiscretions from America's kinkiest golfer. Here's hoping that Tiger behaves himself in 2011.

Attention Whore of the Year: Raz-B/Kat Stacks


This one is a tie, simply because both o
f these wannabe celebs have been equally annoying this past year. They seemed to be in competition to see who could release the most Youtube and World Star Hip Hop videos "exposing" other pseudo-celebs, and both were known for being completely reckless with their tweets. However, since Kat Stacks has been deported (I think) we may not be hearing much from her in the future.....unless Venezuela has World Star Hip Hop. As for Raz-B....le sigh. In true attention whore fashion, he decided to close the year out with a bang by instigating Twitter beef with Chris Brown just yesterday. (And C.Breezy took the bait like a toddler snatching a handful of candy. But that's another post.)

Phonetically-Challenged Celeb of the Year: Waka Flocka Flame



Everyone's favorite dummy hood rapper Waka Flocka made lovers of the English language hang their heads in shame when he appeared on BET's 106th & Park, and could barely articulate complete sentences when being interviewed about his thoughts on voting and education. He gave us unforgettable quotes like "Voting cool" and shared his aspirations of going to college and majoring in Geometry. Sadly, I don't believe this is the last we will be hearing from Waka, as his hood-tastic music can still be heard on a radio station near you. God help us all.

Comeback of the Year: Chris Brown



I'm hesitant to even speak on this category, because Chris Brown's recent e-beef with Raz-B has me annoyed, but I actually think 2010 was a decent year for him, in spite of his immature Twitter outbursts. He re-captured the hearts of America by snot-slinging and hyperventilating mid-performance at the BET Awards and released a couple dope mixtapes. Not to mention the Grammy nomination for "Deuces," which is one of my favorite songs of 2010. I'll try to be optimistic and keep my fingers crossed that C.Breezy will cut down on the Internet thug nonsense, and focus more on his music in the upcoming year.

15 Minute Fame-Stretcher of the Year: Antoine Dodson



Welp, there's not a whole lot to say about this. I already gave my opinion on Antoine's increasingly desperate attempts to extend the hype that was created due to his "Bed Intruder" fame. I respect the fact that he managed to turn a tragedy into a profit......but enough is enough. It's time for Mr. Dodson to use that "Bed Intruder" money to start a business, and get the hell out of the limelight.

Clown of the Year: Soulja Boy



This could have gone to a few different celebs, but Soulja Boy gets the honor of being presented with such a prestigious award this year. After all, who else can say that they were caught on tape with hip-hop's most toxic groupie (i.e., Attention Whore of the Year winner Kat Stacks), accused of being a coke head by that groupie, then confessed on radio that they love that same groupie? I can't think of anything more clownish. Well, I can, but that's pretty high in the rankings of clownishness. Add the Twitter beef with Fabolous (what is it with these young male celebs?), garish displays of jewels and money, and shallow but catchy hip-pop music, and voila. 2010, aka the Year of the Clown for Soulja Boy. I have a feeling this may be a reoccurring theme for him though. o_O

Monday, December 27, 2010

2010 & Beyond.

Last year around this time, I did a New Years post listing goals I had lined up for 2010 and some things I had accomplished the year before. Looking back at old shit is so funny, because the end of 2010 is upon us, and I realize that I accomplished about.....5 of the goals on my list. Probably more like 4.5, but I'm trying to make myself feel better. I'll leave it up to you guys to guess which goals were achieved.

Anywho, I don't really feel like making a "list" of things that I want to accomplish for 2011. I have some things that I want to do of course, but I almost think that making a list puts me in a box and does not allow me to switch things up if needed. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a planner. The fact that I plan shit to death is the reason why my life feels so upside down now, because I had all these grand plans that fell through. One thing that I'm trying to do is have a "general" plan, but also leave room to adapt in case every single step of that plan doesn't fall perfectly in place.

I also find it interesting that for the past two years, I have been in a completely different place (physically) than I was before. This time last year, I was working at my comfy job in the snooty suburbs of Georgia, living with roommates that I hated and who probably hated me. I was doing okay financially, but I was pretty lonely out there all by myself. I spent New Year's Eve at work, and on New Year's night I went out on a semi-date with a guy that I wasn't really interested in just because I was bored. This year I will be at work on New Year's Eve again. I'm living with family that.....annoys me, and who are probably annoyed by me. I'm doing okay financially, and surprise! Still lonely. I guess that's just the reoccurring theme for me. I'll have to work on that. I probably won't do shit on New Year's Day but eat and sleep, and then I think I have to work the next day. Boy, this sounds exciting, doesn't it?

Starting a new year isn't the same as it was for me before. I used to get all hyped about the big changes I was going to be making, and then I realized that most things ended up staying the same. If things go according to plan THIS year, it will probably be the most drastic change in my life so far, seeing that I'll be in the military and all. Everyone says joining the military changes your life, but we'll see. I don't want to get too worked up, only to find out that life on a ship is exactly the same as life in the suburbs of St. Louis or Atlanta.

A couple things that I really do need to work on though would be my fashion blog and getting in shape. I feel ashamed that I haven't put as much effort into my other blog as I wanted to. That has to change. As for getting into shape.....that kind of goes along with the whole "getting ready for the Navy" thing. I know they're gonna work my ass and I need to be prepared for it. I don't want to be the slacker who didn't do any type of physical activity before getting to boot camp. I can imagine that won't be pretty.

What was the point of all this again? Hmmm.....I have no idea. Just throwing out some thoughts on how I feel about the months to come. All I can do is look forward to what will happen and the experience I'm sure to gain no matter what path I head toward. Damn, that sounded philosophical and corny as hell. Don't mind me. I'd like to hear what everyone else is looking forward to in 2011 as well.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Doing Entirely Too Much.



So I spotted this coonery floating around on the Internet, and it's SO coon-ish I feel like a coon just for posting it. Oh well.

I feel like this video should be titled "When Having No Talent Other than Being a Hoodrat Becomes Painfully Obvious." Like, really Antoine? STOP! I am willing to brave the projects of Lincoln Park to find this child, grab him by the shoulders, look him square in the eyes and tell him, "STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Someone has to do it. If it doesn't end now, when will it ever end? What's next: Easter Intruder? St. Patrick's Day Intruder? President's Day Intruder? I can't take it; I don't have the strength. I feel like Antoine is that annoying ass kid in your neighborhood who still falls out laughing at an old joke that no one else thinks is funny anymore. No matter how many times you tell him that joke is dead and gone, he repeats it over and over and over again in hopes of getting a chuckle out of someone, ANYONE.

On second thought, Antoine may also realize that his 15 minutes are long past due. After watching the video a second time (judge me not), I noticed that even HE doesn't seem to be amused by his shenanigans. His demeanor is not as animated as it was in his "debut" video, and the fact that his rapping/singing/talking is offbeat as hell shows that he is not even bothering to make an effort at this point. I wouldn't doubt that some media higher ups are pushing this gimmick within the last inch of its life, but their attempts are pointless. This shit ain't funny, it ain't cute, and it OBVIOUSLY is doing nothing toward the progression of the black race.

Ms. Dodson, wherever you are, please come get your son.

Monday, December 20, 2010

To Club or Not to Club?

I have spoken about my views on religion before, and after a couple recent visits to a new church, there's another topic that has been on my mind for a while.

The pastor at this particular church has done a series of sermons over the past couple weeks dealing with completely "giving yourself to God," and whenever he talks about giving up certain things, he mentions the usual: drinking, smoking, sleeping around, etc. Then he asks this question in regards to people that claim to want a closer relationship with God, but continue to party every weekend: "How you in church when you was just at the club last night?"

I guess I should back up here, and give a little background on my clubbing experience. I have never been the "party girl." I've lived in St. Louis all my life and never once stepped foot in a nightclub, probably because I sincerely hate any and everything associated with St. Louis and have never wanted to waste my time. Add the fact that I have 0 friends here and.....well, you get the picture.

Then I moved to Orlando for a semester. I worked as an intern for Disney World, I didn't have a car, and I was under 21, so my clubbing options were limited. I soon discovered that the hot spot for Disney interns was a Disney-owned assortment of clubs known as Pleasure Island, or "PI," as my friends and I affectionately called it. The main spots that I frequented were the BET nightclub, as well as Motions, a more ethnically mixed nightclub. Thursdays were the most popular nights at PI, and in spite of working 12+ hour shifts on most days, my friends and I would muster the energy to board the "Party" bus almost every week and head out for a night on the town. There were always plenty of.....interesting characters on the bus, so I don't recall too many dull moments going to and from PI. I got my first dose of the lame and amusing pickup lines/stalker moves that guys try in a club atmosphere, and I actually enjoyed myself while being liquor-free. A couple years later, I found out that PI had been closed down, and it bummed me out a little to hear that my old stomping ground was no more.

I moved back to St. Louis from Orlando and went back to my quiet, party-less lifestyle, then I made another move a few years down the road; this time to Atlanta. I had heard all about the hype of partying in the "A," so I was ready to get out there and see what all the city had to offer. Immediately, my roommate and I became well-acquainted with Underground Atlanta, which was not the upscale, swanky atmosphere I had envisioned before I moved away from home. It was mostly occupied by ATL hoodrats and men who looked too old to be posted up in a club for Thirsty Thursdays. Oh well. I tried to find some different places to go to, and the foolishness began.

My weekends over the next year-and-a-half in Atlanta consisted of getting dressed up in my Saturday night's best, pre-gaming with my friends, then heading out to whatever random club that promised via their fliers "ladies are free before midnight." We would show up at the club, stand in line for over an hour, and eventually find out that the club was now charging $10, $15, or whatever they felt like charging depending on who you knew or how much ass you kissed. Sometimes we would suck it up and pay the cover charge, then go inside to listen to some Gucci Mane or Wacka Flocka bullshit, and buy some drinks to keep the buzz going. Sometimes my roommate would work her negotiating skills and get us in for free, then we would go in and listen to some Gucci Mane or Wacka Flocka bullshit, and get drinks to keep the buzz going. Other times we would decide that $20 wasn't worth it, and take our asses to Taco Bell and go home.

I said all that because, after hearing that message by the pastor, I brought it up with my mom and she inquired why it would be a big deal to give up club going since it was never very enjoyable for me in the first place. I didn't have a real answer to back up my reasoning, but my biggest concern with it was (and is) that it all seems so.......FINAL. I have always been the chill, go-with-the-flow type of friend, so to go from being down for whatever to saying, "No, I can't go to the club because that's not pleasing to God" seems so out-of-character for me. My mother's argument was that I don't have to tell people I'm not going to party with them because of my religion--which is true--but that still gives me this "holier-than-thou" feeling that I'm not quite comfortable with.

One thing I'm curious to know though, is when did partying become a "sinful" thing? I'm sure most Christians would argue that it's the breeding ground for a lot of "sin" to take place, like drinking, smoking, and sex, but what about those of us who really just go to hang out with friends? I can honestly say that I have never gone to a club looking to hook up with any dude. I know damn well that a nightclub is the last place to go looking for love. As silly as club-going could be sometimes, I often found myself going out because it gave me some interesting stories to tell. It's sad, but true. Like right now.......I don't go anywhere, I don't do anything; therefore, I don't have shit to blog about. Mom's advice is to surround myself with some young Christians, but most of the people I meet who are my age and have "given themselves to God" dress and act frumpy, and listen to gospel music exclusively. I like 6-inch heels, hip-hop music, and making fun of people who do stupid shit. Yeah, don't know how long those friendships would last.

Besides, doesn't the Bible say something like "Eat, drink, and be merry"? Last time I checked, that sounded a lot like partying......

Eh, I don't know. I'm just getting over a cold so I'm kind of loopy right now, and I apologize in advance if this post is all over the place. Is it reasonable to expect 20-somethings to completely give up on the nightlife in order to get closer to God? What are some NOT so "holier-than-thou" alternatives to partying and getting wasted?

Monday, December 13, 2010

An Uglycleanbroke Review of "For Colored Girls."


I know, I know....I'm late as usual. I finally got the chance to see "For Colored Girls" last weekend, and I'm just now getting a chance to sit down and put together my thoughts about the film.

I read several reviews of the movie before seeing it, from my fellow bloggers as well as film critics, and the reviews were mixed. People's opinions on "For Colored Girls" were very black and white; they either loved it or hated it. There was no middle ground that I could see. I must say that I am on the side of those that enjoyed the film. I feel like all of the actors gave solid performances, including Janet Jackson, who I have never really cared for as an actress. I was also pleased that Tyler Perry didn't pop up anywhere, either as "Madea" or as his usual bland, unneeded supporting character.

I've heard some say that the movie was "depressing," or it shed a negative light on African-American women as being "victims," but I disagree. It's true that the tragedies in the film often outweighed the happy moments, but isn't that similar to everyday life? Is it really that far fetched to see women of color dealing with issues like abortion, sexual abuse, and cheating lovers? Is it not true that HIV is one of the leading causes of death among African American women?

What I don't understand is that Tyler Perry is always criticized for his portrayal of black people as over-the-top and ridiculous, and now that he's taken a more serious approach.....he's being criticized because the subject matter is TOO serious. It's the classic case of "Damned if you do, and damned if you don't."

The one thing that irked me about the movie was how the dialogue between the characters segued into each "colored girl's" monologue. It was a little awkward simply because it was so easy to distinguish where the modern language of the script ended, and where the book's original poetry began. The sudden change gave me the feeling of watching a musical, where the characters break into song in the middle of a conversation.

Overall, I would say "For Colored Girls" is definitely one of Tyler Perry's better films, and I appreciate that he made the effort to do something different from his usual coon-ish comedies.

Uglycleanbroke rating:
★ ★ ★ ★

Monday, December 6, 2010

Oh Keri.



I know I'm late commenting on this, but I figured better late than never. By now, I'm sure most of you have seen (or heard about) Keri Hilson's latest video "The Way You Love Me." If you haven't seen it yet, you can check it out here. The sexually charged lyrics and dancing in the video sparked a lot of controversy, and Keri Hilson subsequently did an interview explaining her "vision" behind the video.

I commented on a couple blogs about the video, so I'm kind of repeating myself here. One of my comments was in response to a video made by Youtuber Kingsley and his response to Keri's video:

The issue I have with Keri Hilson's video is not that it was overly sexual. If she wants to throw her p*ssy around, that's her choice. The problem is that the video concept sucked. The lyrics sucked. I said the same thing about Kiely's "Spectacular" video. Both looked low-budget and other than the over-the-top raunchiness, they are ultimately forgettable. Plus, Keri is a songwriter; I expect more creative lyrics from her.
Although some of Kingsley's remarks sound a bit "stan"-ish, I agree with him about how drastic it is that Keri went from "Don't feel on my booty" to "Fuck me, fuck me!" She did an interview just last year about how she did not want to be overly sexed (which can be found here), and she has completely contradicted herself. Some people argue that her record label may have put her up to emerging with this new image. I honestly don't care WHAT her record label may or may not have told her to do. She's a grown woman. And in the event that her label DID tell her to go in this direction, they completely failed. Like, who is going to buy this? *Most* heterosexual women won't, because seeing another woman p*ssy popping does nothing for them. Men may beat off to the video, but they won't go out and buy her album. That leaves the "gays," who have already pledged their allegiance to "she who will not be named on this blog." (Y'all know who I'm talking about. Who do folks ALWAYS compare ANY female R&B singer to???)

Ultimately, Keri may have lost her original fans, who are not feeling this new wannabe sexpot image, and she's not gaining any fans because no one believes her.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

You Know You're From St. Louis When......


......It's not "hair," it's "hurr." It's not "there," it's "thurr."

......Niggas are still quoting Nelly lyrics from 2002.

......The most exciting thing to do is go to the St. Louis Zoo or the art museum.

......You tell people where you're from and they say, "Oh, I've been to St. Louis!" And that's it.

......Girls think they're shitting on hoes because they just copped the newest pair of Air Force Ones.

......If all else fails, at least we have the Arch.

......People from East St. Louis look down on you because they're from the TRUE heart of the city.

......Everyone refuses to admit that the Rams suck. I don't follow football, but even I know that.

......Club scene? Nightlife? What's that?

......Hoodrats and goons alike rep their city to the fullest, even though there's not much to "rep."

FYI: I was inspired to write this post while I was browsing through pictures on Facebook, and noticed that a girl I know has a fucking CARDINAL tattooed on her shoulder.

^^^^^Blank. Fucking. Stare. I would post the photo, but I'm not that cruel. Just use your imagination.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Thankfulness & Shit.

The holidays are upon us, and in an attempt to balance out my usual complaining ways, I figured I would mention a couple things that I am grateful for this year:

  • I have a job. Yes it's shitty, and the policies change more often than I change my underwear, but it pays the bills. A couple years ago this time, I didn't even want to answer my phone because bill collectors were on my ass constantly, but I was so broke that I couldn't afford to make a minimum $25 payment on a credit card. Oddly enough, I feel like I'm not AS broke as I was in Atlanta, when I was making twice as much money as what I make now. Go figure.

  • I have finally been accepted at the college I was trying to get into! I spent most of my summer making phone calls and trying to get transcripts sent so I could attend school this fall. That didn't happen, because my old school still had a hold on my account for some reason. Just a couple weeks ago, I got everything straightened out and my mom bugged me enough to send a transcript request so I could get a head start for the spring semester. I did, and I got my acceptance letter last week. I still have plans to go to the Navy, but if that doesn't work out for whatever reason, it's good to know that I can still finish up school like I had planned.

  • I am free of all toxic "friendships." Over the past couple years, I have come across some of the best (and worst) friends I could imagine. I somehow managed to stay entangled in the web of the "bad friends" much longer than I should have. It got to the point where I felt like they were sucking me dry, and if they were in a bad mood, I would be in a bad mood. Although I can be a bitch, I'm sensitive as hell so I always end up taking on other people's burdens and emotions. I can finally say that I have severed contact with everyone who made me feel dead inside when I hung out with them, and I feel like I can breathe now.

  • I'm thankful for my family. I know that sounds cheesy as hell, and even though they get on my nerves, it's true. Living on my own showed me that they are the only people in the world that truly have my back, no matter what. We all still have growing to do, but I'm hopeful that we can get it together sooner or later.

  • I'm grateful that I cut my hair. LOL. I don't give a damn what anyone says about jumping on a "natural" bandwagon; this is the best decision I have ever made with my hair. I felt crazy as hell when I first cut it, but after styling it, I look pretty fucking hot, if I do say so. The compliments I get at work may help a bit too. :)

Okay, I'm going to stop here....this shit is too mushy and happy for me. What are you grateful for this year?

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Why You Gotta Be Anonymous?


Yep, that's some throwback Bobby V. for ya ass. I know I'm not the only one that remembers that song. Too bad he's nowhere to be found these days....

Anyway, this post is not about forgotten R&B stars; this is a shout out to all of the no-name, no-face people that love to talk their shit behind the comfort of a computer screen. I've been blogging a couple years now, and I'm sure anyone who has been in the blogging game can attest that they have been the victim of at least one anonymous blog attack.

Some may wonder why anonymous posters irk me so. It's pretty simple. I don't like cowards. If you can't attach a blog link or a name to your comment, yet you want to write a book-length critique of what I write on MY blog, you're a coward. If you clown someone on how they wear their hair or clothes, yet you make certain that no one will ever see what YOU look like, you're a coward.

Now I don't want anyone to get things twisted; it's not that I can't take criticism. I'm not asking readers to co-sign everything I say, or kiss my ass. What I want is for people to be respectful. After all, it's MY blog. I don't know about anyone else, but I think going to someone's blog and (anonymously) making rude and nasty comments is similar to going to that person's house and pissing in their front lawn while they're away at work. It's immature, unnecessary, and at the end of the day, it makes you look like a punk-ass.

I've heard other bloggers say something similar to what I'm about to say, and it goes something like this: If you come to this blog (or any blog) and see something that absolutely disgusts you.....there's a little red "X" in the upper right hand corner of your screen. Do you see it? It's right ---------> there. Just a little bit higher.

Click it.

Thank you, and good-bye.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Why Can't She Keep Her Man?

The hot topic of the week revolves around Eva Longoria and Tony Parker's announcement that they are divorcing after 3 years of marriage. As with most celebrity divorces, folks are wasting no time speculating on why they are divorcing, and they are also wasting no time putting in their two cents on the matter in blog comments.

Apparently, the reason behind the divorce is because Tony Parker was caught exchanging flirtatious text messages with another woman. While browsing through a blog (or maybe it was on Twitter...I forget), I read a comment by a woman that "we regular women don't stand a chance of having a faithful husband, if Eva Longoria can't even keep a man."

Let me say that I would like to give a sincere side-eye and middle finger to that woman. Why is it that whenever a celebrity cheats on his wife, people always holler about the woman not being able to "keep" him? What is this "keep" shit about? Is he a pet? A runaway slave?

I understand where they are coming from in a sense. It's instinctive to look at Eva Longoria and wonder what the hell Tony Parker was thinking by cheating on her. However, I believe that if a man wants to cheat, he will cheat, and it doesn't matter how good you look. This isn't the first celebrity scandal revolving a man's unfaithfulness to his gorgeous, successful wife, and I'm sure it won't be the last. How many Halle Berrys and Eva Longorias will it take for folks to realize that good genes are not a foolproof way to ward off infidelity?

Further, why is it always considered a woman's duty to "keep" her man? How do we know Eva didn't do everything she could to make Tony happy? I know nothing about their personal lives, but I remember back when they were first dating, she could be seen at all of his basketball games. I have a pretty good BS detector, but it didn't look like a publicity stunt to me; she seemed like she genuinely wanted to be there and support him. She could have been the picture-perfect wife, for all we know. On the other hand, she could have been a royal bitch behind closed doors, and maybe Tony felt the need to reach out to another woman for moral support. No one really knows.

What I do know is that it's not fair to suggest that any marital failure is due to a woman's inability to please her husband. I think it should be a two-way street, but I never hear anyone chastise men for not being able to "keep" a woman. It's also ludicrous to assume that looks alone will keep a relationship together. If that were the case, I wouldn't hear and see pretty girls crying, "He left me for HER?!?! That bitch ugly!"

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

The Grudge.

No, I'm not talking about the movie (even though that movie scared the shit out of me....but that's another blog post). I'm talking about the treatment I have been known to give over the years to anyone that I feel has slighted me. At the age of 23, I have perfected the art of cutting off all possible contact with another human being without giving it any thought. I am familiar with the term "don't burn your bridges" but I don't burn bridges; I set up a fireworks display then watch the bridge explode.

I was recently confronted with my grudge-holding habit when I got a text from one of my old roommates. After I quietly packed all of my shit and left Atlanta without leaving so much as a good-bye note, I deleted every Facebook contact associated with my former roommates, and blocked their numbers from my phone. Or at least I thought I did, until I got that text the other day. Basically my old roomie expressed his happiness that I am indeed still alive, and asked if we could "move past" what happened. I told him it's been so long that I'm not AS upset about it, and he mentioned that he was worried I would still be pissed because he knows how I can hold a grudge.

Maybe I only think this way because it's how I am, but I personally feel that it's better to hold a grudge (just a little one) rather than always "forgiving and forgetting" and being stepped on by the same people over and over again. It probably sounds pessimistic, but people don't change. Not in my experience. They say that they do, and you reunite and things are okay for a while, and before you know it, you're dealing with the same shit.

Even with my ex-roommate.....I just keep wondering what I'm supposed to do from this point? I can't bring myself to think of him as a "friend" but I don't know what else to call him. He asked if I was still in Atlanta and I told him I was back home, but what if I wasn't? Would I be holding a grudge if I still didn't want to hang out with him, or my other ex-roommates? Am I supposed to text him every now and again? Un-block him from Facebook? I guess I shouldn't think about it that deeply since I live in another state, but for some reason I am.

I suppose holding a grudge and eliminating people from my life is my defense mechanism. I can't get hurt if I never speak to them again. Yeah, it's lonely most of the time sometimes, but I think it's safe to say that there's no way I can slight or betray myself.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Things Black Girls Can't Do.

I'm giving myself the side-eye because I was semi-inspired to write this post after seeing a trending topic on Twitter. People all over the world are tweeting "#thingsthatblackgirlsdo." However, after getting a dose of reality television recently, I began to ponder the things that black girls CAN'T do.

I watched Russell Simmons' reality show on Oxygen last night. Don't judge me. It came on immediately after the "Bad Girls Club," the TV remote doesn't work, and I was too lazy to get up and change the channel. Anyway, for anyone who cares, I will provide a synopsis of what the show is all about. Basically it gives a behind-the-scenes look at what Russell goes through every day as a business mogul. It also follows his assistants, and his assistants' assistants, who all look like they belong in a Victoria's Secret catalog rather than a business office.

In the episode I watched, Russell invites rapper T.I. to his office to shoot the breeze and discuss some ideas Russell has for a jewelry line. During the meeting, a couple interns are instructed to bring the guys some lunch. Both of the interns are women who appear to be in their early 20s. One is African-American, one is white. The white girl is seen on camera earlier, gushing about how excited she is to meet T.I. and how sexy she thinks he is. She has also chosen to wear a black mini-dress to work that day, which her fellow intern tells her is a bit "risque." While serving lunch to Russell and his colleagues, the intern sits cross-legged on Russell's desk, then shifts her legs in a not-so-subtle manner that gives T.I., and everyone else in the room, a nice clear shot of her pink meat. Thankfully Oxygen has the decency to pixelate her no-no area, but it's pretty obvious that someone "forgot" her thong before she walked out the door in the morning. T.I. seems amused, but Russell comments that what she is wearing is inappropriate, and orders her out of the office.

He brings up the issue later with his assistants, giving a comical reenactment of the intern's come-on to T.I. The assistants gasp in horror and promise Russell they will have a sit-down with the intern. They call her into the office and advise her that what she wore to work is inappropriate, and warn her to be more careful about what she wears to the office in the future. A couple days later, the same intern is invited to the Hamptons to assist with a weekend dinner, and she greets Russell Simmons with a kiss on the cheek. Again, his assistants are horrified and have another chat with the intern about remaining professional, even in a casual setting. The intern doesn't seem to be fazed at all, and points out that she must be doing okay if this is "all" they're criticizing her about.

And that's it.

The whole time I was watching this, I couldn't help but wonder how it all would have gone down if the roles were reversed, and it was the black girl running around the office in a freakum dress with no panties on, and greeting Russell Simmons like he was her sugar daddy. Perhaps she too, would have only gotten a slap on the wrist, since this IS reality TV (and we all know reality TV is about as real as Nene Leakes' nose). So then I had to think about it in terms of everyday life. Would a black girl be allowed as many chances to make as many royal fuck-ups as the white girl did, if she had managed to snag a prestigious internship? I highly doubt it. Even on Russell's show, I could tell the black girl was afraid to sneeze the wrong way, lest her ass be shown to the front door by security. The only complaint her bosses had about her was that she didn't bring her "A game" when helping out with an event. Meanwhile, the white girl was totally oblivious, and saw nothing wrong with how she was conducting herself.

I guess what this showed me is that even in a time of "equal opportunity," black people still have to be twice as cautious as their white counterparts on the job, and when looking for a job. It makes me think about the stories my family members have told me, of how they showed up to a job fair/interview decked out in business suits, and got turned down, while a white job-seeker came in wearing jeans and a T-shirt and was hired on the spot. Like really.....where they do that at? In my own job and internship-hunting experiences, I went to interviews in my business professional attire with my resume in hand, and couldn't get hired at Target. Then I turn the TV on, to see this white chick who doesn't have the sense to know NOT to flash her pussy at T.I. in a business meeting, and she's working for one of the biggest entertainment moguls in the industry?

I can't. This was supposed to be a lighthearted post, but I've gotten pissed off now. That's why I have to stop watching these reality shows.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Can't Wait For Her Album.

Normally I'm the queen of music downloads, but I am anxiously awaiting November 30th to PURCHASE Jazmine Sullivan's album. I think she has an amazing voice, and I still listen to her first album like it just came out yesterday.

Mr. Grandberry.....................




Sir.

At times like this I have to question the very existence of divine intervention because somewhere, somehow, a higher power should have stopped this from happening.

I'm already trying to find it in my heart to forgive you for being associated with my now-tainted childhood memories of B2K (yes, I was a stan), but then you had to go and do this. There are so many questions, but not enough answers. Who is your stylist? Do you have a stylist? Is he/she friends with Raz-B? Is this their way of getting revenge on you? Is this your not-so-discreet way of coming out of the closet? Do you think this will help disprove the rumors questioning your *ahem* manhood?

I feel like this is the homo-thug, Mr. T-inspired rendition of "The Wizard of Oz." Gold chains, and bow ties, and rings, oh my! The top half of your ensemble is so offensive that I won't even speak on the skinny jeans and penny loafers. Omarion, you try so hard to be "different" and "edgy," not realizing that get-ups like this only make you come across as foolish and desperate for attention. You're not Kanye, or Diddy, or any other male celebrity that can get away with wearing tons of jewelry and fur and still keep a remnant of masculinity.

Please don't let this happen again, O. I'm sure lovers of fashion and your testicles will be eternally grateful if you make this a one time offense. Wait. I said I wasn't going to speak on the skinny jeans, didn't I? Oh well.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Vote or Die?

I know I'm probably about to catch hell from all the political fanatics out there, but hear me out.

I didn't vote yesterday.

I'm not making excuses for myself, but I had to work all day, and I wasn't getting up at 6am to vote for people and laws that I have not a clue about. I like to think that I am fairly socially and politically conscious, but I have never claimed to be a political buff. Whenever friends and colleagues get into heated debates about health care and taxes, I gladly shut the fuck up because I don't want to say anything stupid.

I just so happened to listened to the radio yesterday, and of course, every DJ felt the need to put in their two cents that everyone--especially black people--need to let their voices be heard. Our ancestors fought for this privilege, and we need to honor them by getting out to the ballots. Okay. I get that. Here's my issue though: why is it that these same DJs and media personalities never talk about the importance of politics and voting until about.....3 days before an election?

Like I said earlier, I'm not incredibly savvy when it comes to politics, so Proposition A and B really don't mean much to me. Call me ignorant if you want, but they don't. And I have a feeling they don't mean much to most people my age either. I have 52,001 things on my mind, and the last thing I think about after a stressful day at work is getting online to research all the politicians in my state so I can know what they stand for. Especially since the commercials they show a few weeks before an election seem to do nothing but throw shade at everything their opponents are NOT doing.

I feel that if the media wants to stress the importance of voting, they should do it all year, not just when an election is coming up. They should actually educate people on WHY they should vote, instead of just saying, "VOTE OR DIE!" Get the fuck outta here. We're all going to die, whether we vote or not. Don't tell me that voting for or against a certain bill is going to determine whether or not there is a 2.5% increase on a property tax that I have never heard of. What the hell does that mean? All of that political lingo is headache-inducing. Speak to me in English, please.

I don't know. It seems like voting nowadays is more of a "trendy" thing to do rather than doing something to get shit done. I voted for Obama back in '08. That was a no-brainer, considering that I could just look at McCain on TV and tell that he wouldn't care much about the well-being of my black ass. Of course, Obama won. There was all this talk of "change," but what has changed? Not a damn thing, as far as I can tell. I still got fired from my job not too long after he was elected, so nothing has changed as far as the dumb-ass employment laws in America. The recession still seems to be going strong. Apparently a health care bill was passed a while ago, but I still don't have health insurance. Why is the government being so secretive about it? Or maybe I'm just not looking in the right places? Why did everyone think having a Black man in office was going to make things all better? Didn't Black people work to change plenty of laws before Obama was even thought of?

Maybe I'm being my normal hardheaded self in thinking that my opinion doesn't matter. There's plenty going on in the world that I would like to change, and I don't see how electing some random person to be Senator is going to help my concerns. Perhaps someone can enlighten me.

Monday, November 1, 2010

No Photos Please.

Anyone who knows me knows that I hate taking pictures. Unless it's a photo that I have snapped myself, I don't want it. I give my friends the side eye of death any time they come up to me with their digital cameras, trying to act like the damn paparazzi.

Why am I so opposed to having photos taken? Because it's 2010 and people have no damn sense. Taking pictures isn't like it was a couple decades ago. Any embarrassing or unflattering pictures could be trapped for eternity in the undeveloped film of a Walgreens disposable camera, or buried in a box of photos that your mother is saving to blackmail you with, when you bring your new boo home to visit the family. That's not the case nowadays. Any picture, whether good, bad, ugly, or just downright fucked up, will be plastered on MySpace, Twitter, Facebook, your friend's blog, or any other social networking outlet possible.

My latest run-in with this problem came from my recent trip to Atlanta. I made it clear several times that I didn't want any photos taken unless it was a group picture so I could blend in with everyone else. But of course, liquor came into the picture (no pun intended), and bitches caught me slipping. Remember the Italian boy I mentioned a couple posts ago? I didn't mention that he was very touchy-feely, and that, paired with the fact that my dress was shorter than I anticipated, made the perfect combination for a panty-revealing photo op. My friend just uploaded the pictures from her birthday and when I got the notifications that I had been tagged, I already knew I would have to log onto my profile and do some damage control.

My jaw dropped when I saw the photo of my lacy black Victoria's Secret hiphuggers in full view for all of Facebook to see. "What the hell was B thinking?" was my first thought. For God's sake, my mom is on Facebook now! I immediately untagged myself.....but the picture is still online, and it won't take a genius to figure out who that girl is with the guy's hands pulling her dress up. I want to tell her to take that photo down, but I know she will think I'm being a "prude" and I also had plans to ignore her for a while. Ugh. This is why I stay incognito.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Vent.


Not having money is frustrating. As hell. I've heard the saying that money can't buy you happiness, but I sure ain't happy being broke. If I ever get the opportunity to have an overabundance of money and I'm STILL not happy, then maybe I can attest to that saying, but until then, the grass certainly does look greener on the other side in this instance. I know rich people have their own issues, but at least they don't have to choose between buying lunch or filling up their gas tank.

I feel like I'm not getting ahead, and I don't know when--or if--I will ever get ahead. Being in debt is like being inside of a never-ending hole. I keep trying to claw my way out, but it's like an invisible force is pinning me down. Every time I look around, there's a new bill to add to the pile. I am constantly kicking myself for dropping out of school for what was intended to be a very short period of time. Now the grace period is over, and Uncle Sam wants his cash. I'm convinced that student loans were created by Satan himself, to ensure that desperate college students around the world will never be able to see a paycheck without paying a portion of it to a loan provider (or several).

I'm losing weight because I'm stressed out; I'm stressed out because I'm losing weight. I regret every frivolous penny that was spent during the days that I had no bills to worry about. I'm still angry that I got fired from my first "good" job the same week my financial situation was beginning to look up, and I wonder if I will ever get back to that point. Will I ever be able to afford to live on my own? Purchase a new car? Repair the car I have, without going even deeper into this hole? Spend $20 at Walgreens without feeling pangs of guilt afterward?

I don't know. I don't know.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

If You Want Me, You Can Find Me in the "A"

This past weekend confirmed that I no longer have any desire to live in Atlanta. I know that I don't want to live in St. Louis, but I definitely don't want to live in Atlanta either. Going back to visit was kind of like going back to an old friend or boyfriend. You remember all the good things when you're gone, but as soon as you get back together, all the annoying shit that they used to do comes right back in your face.

So my friend B wanted me to come down and kick it for her 21st birthday. We partied together all the time before she was legal, and we always got kicked out of clubs because of it, so I knew I couldn't miss the opportunity to come to the "A" and NOT get thrown out of a bar within less than an hour. I buy my plane ticket in September, work ridiculous amounts of overtime so I'll have enough money to do whatever I want, and make plans to go shopping and get my nails done, as if I'm preparing for MY birthday. As the weeks go by, B tells me that her sisters are coming to Atlanta, as well as her best friend and her best friend's boyfriend. Our other friend, and my former roommate, K, will be in attendance as well since she and B are now roommates.

About a week before it's time for me to fly down there, I get a text from K. She mentions that B wants us to play a prank on her for her birthday and says we have to come up with something good. I think of an idea, but it will only work if K picks me up from the airport by herself. I ask if she will be able to come get me, and she says yes.

Fast forward to a couple days before it's time for me to go out of town. B calls me to tell me how excited she is that I'm coming, and she also mentions that she is upset because she's not going to have as much money as she wanted because she didn't get her refund check from school. I assure her that we'll have fun regardless of low funding, since my spending money will be short as well, due to some unforeseen car troubles. I'm scheduled to get to Atlanta Thursday morning, and B tells me she probably won't see me until Thursday night because she has school in the morning and work later in the afternoon. She mentions that K has class Thursday morning too, and at this point I ask, "Well, who the hell is picking me up from the airport?" B says that K will probably skip class to pick me up, but K has been flaky as hell for the two years that I've known her, so I send her a text Wednesday to tell her my plane touches down in Atlanta around 9:45am and ask (again) if she will be able to get me. She replies that she has class until 12pm.

Here we go.

I text back and mention that I asked her last week if she could pick me up and she said yes. She says that we should have confirmed the time, then adds that she's free after 1pm. Really now? Yes, because sitting at the airport for 3 hours is EXACTLY how I want to spend my morning. She sends one more text saying that I can't be mad at her, but "knowing me," I probably am. My first instinct is to text back that I can be whatever the fuck I want, but K is a sensitive soul, and she's pregnant, so I know that even a small dose of my wrath will likely be too much for her to handle. Besides, I don't want shit to get ugly before I even get there, so I tell her that I'm not mad, and that I need another option besides waiting at the airport until 1. I ask for her address so I can take a cab or MARTA, and that's that. I'm annoyed, because now I have to decide whether I should shell out $30 for a cab or deal with demented homeless men on the train.

I catch my flight the next morning, arrive in Atlanta, and I decide to go with the cab and head outside the airport to the curbside pickup. When I give the cab driver the address, he looks confused as hell and asks me if I know where that is. Again, here we go. One thing I never understood when I lived in Atlanta is why cab drivers always expected ME to help them navigate. I'm not a fucking GPS, and besides, isn't that why I'm paying you? I tell him the apartment is near the Georgia Dome. He doesn't speak English very well, but I'm pretty sure he asks me if it would be okay for him to drop me off in that general area. I give him the deadliest side eye ever, and he consults with another cab driver to find out where the address is. This whole ordeal takes about 10 minutes, then he gets back in the car and proceeds to pull out a GPS. What the hell? Why didn't you just do that in the first place? We finally get to my friends' apartment, and the driver has the nerve to look salty when I give him $3 for a tip. Little does he know, I had contemplated not giving him shit, due to his poor navigation skills AND the fact that it was hot as hell in the car, but I just don't have it in my heart to do that.

K told me the night before that she would leave their key under the mat, so I grab it and let myself in. I look around the apartment, then open one of the bedroom doors and lo and behold......there's K, laying in her bed. Yes, you read that right. She gave me all that drama, I paid $30 for a cab, and this bitch is at home. She claims that she got sick during one of her classes and had to leave early. Then she mentions that B wants snacks for a party that she's throwing on Sunday, so we head to Wal-Mart to pick up a few things. When we get there, K tells me she has $200 on her EBT card, then proceeds to walk around the store and put every item imaginable in her damn shopping cart. Since living on my own, I have become a budgeting queen, and even without a physical calculator, I can tell all the shit in this cart is going to be way more than $200. K disagrees, but when we get to the checkout lane, she changes her tune and starts giving items to the cashier to put back. This is another one of my pet peeves, FYI. I can't STAND it when people get more shit than they can afford, then start putting it back. I stand by, gritting my teeth while she completes her transaction, then we head back to the apartment.

B comes home later, and her sister and cousins come over to visit her before we get ready to go to a strip club. Her family decides they don't feel like going anywhere tonight, so B, K, and I end up going. We get there after midnight and show our IDs to the bouncer. She informs B that even though her birthday is today, she won't be allowed to get in until 24 hours AFTER her birthday. Say what? That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard, but it sounds like one of the typical ass-backward Atlanta club policies, so B and I start to leave. However, K is the negotiator of the group, and asks another bouncer to get a manager. The manager comes outside and asks what the problem is. The female bouncer tells him she was told by some higher-ups that she couldn't let people in until the day after their birthday; he gives the okay for us to go in anyway. So we go in to show our IDs again, and this time the bouncer tells us that we "got her in trouble," and now she's going to have to explain herself to her boss. Not our problem bitch. We pay admission, then go to the bar for drinks. The bartender is standing against the wall, and when I ask for a Long Island Iced Tea, she gives me a "look" as if I'm bothering her and hollers, "What?" I repeat myself, then she makes my drink, and if it weren't for the loud music, I'm pretty sure I would be able to hear her sighing heavily. Because of her nasty attitude, I decide not to tip. I know those of you who are bartenders and waitresses are probably cringing, but I feel like this: if you have to live off tips, then you need to act like it. It makes no sense to provide bad customer service then expect to be rewarded for it. I'm not asking anyone to kiss my ass, but if I'm not coming to you in a disrespectful or rude manner, I would appreciate it if you do the same for me.

I sit down, sip on my drink, listen to the DJ talk shit about any guys that aren't throwing ones at the strippers, and watch the dancers who look like they would rather light themselves on fire than be on stage. B comments that I don't seem to be enjoying myself.....which I'm not. Watching nude women dance is not my thing. If I want to see a woman dance naked, I can just look in the mirror, and I don't have to pay $20 for it. But this is what B wanted to do, so I'm not going to make a fuss. She asks if I need another drink, so we head to the bar again. I don't have anymore cash on me so B buys the drinks, and this time the bartender says, and I quote, "The next time y'all come over here for a drink, I'ma need y'all to leave a tip." B apologizes and hands her a couple dollars, then we head back to our seats. Once I sit down, I think, "Wait a minute! Did this bitch just TELL us to give her a tip? After she was rude as hell? Where they do that at?" I must be more tipsy than I thought, because in my sober state of mind I would have been more than happy to tell the bartender what she needed to do if she wanted a tip from me. I guess it wasn't meant to be. Tonight is "Amateur Night" at the strip club, so we watch wannabe strippers shake what their mamas gave them, then we leave.

The next day, B has class until 12. Weeks before I came to Atlanta, we both mentioned that we wanted to get tattoos this weekend, so B says that her sister is going to do her hair, then we'll go to the tattoo shop around 2. 2:00 goes by, then 3, then 4, then 5, then 6. B's sister doesn't show up until around 6:30 to do her hair, and even though I've never had a sew-in, I know that shit takes AT LEAST an hour to finish. B wants to get tattoos, go to a haunted house, and go to a club later, but I have a feeling that's not going to happen. Her hair is done around 8:30, and we go to the haunted house first. There is what appears to be a never-ending line around the building, and we find out the wait is more than an hour. Nobody is trying to wait that long, so we head to the tattoo shop. Although I was under the impression that only B and I would be getting tattoos, I soon realize that her sister, two cousins, and their friend all want tattoos as well. And not just simple tattoos. One of B's cousins announces that she wants three pitbulls tattooed on her thigh, with each of her kids' names on them. That's just to give you an idea of the hoodratted-ness that occurred. It's almost 11pm and there are only three artists in the shop; I know we're going to be here until around 1 in the morning. The excitement I had about getting a tattoo has passed, and I tell B I'm not going to get mine tonight. Instead, I sit and drink and talk shit with B's best friend and her boyfriend, who arrived earlier this afternoon.

After everyone is tatted, we go back to the apartment to get ready for the club. By this time, B announces that she's too drunk to go anywhere so we stay in. We get up the next day and try to figure out if we should still get a rental car. That whole story is too complicated to write about, but to make a long story short, we don't get one. B decides she will just have K drive us around where we need to go and give her gas money. We go shopping at Atlantic Station, then have dinner at the Geisha House. The whole time, I am getting annoyed by B and her best friend, who I will call "BM" since she and B's pet name for each other is "Baby Mama." Ever since BM and her boyfriend came into town, B has been almost exclusively talking to them, as if she doesn't really give a damn that I visited for her birthday. They even left me in H&M to walk to the Geisha House, and B didn't bother to text or call me to let me know where they were. That, on top of the fact that they play with each other's hair and address each other with "Baby Mama" every five seconds, is working my nerves. I'm also picking up on some "diva" vibes from B that I never noticed before. She's upset that her family is refusing to go out with her tonight, because B wants to go to Club Opera, a racially diverse downtown club, and her sister and cousins "don't want to party with white people." Because of that, when B is not caressing her baby mama, she's on the phone telling everyone she knows how upset she is, and asking for confirmation about whether her family is wrong or not. I understand that it's shitty for her family to come to town specifically for her birthday, then back out of partying with her, but I could have told her that would happen and I just met them. They are all in their 30s, and they don't seem interested in the same things as B. Besides, even if they're not participating, I, along with her BFF and her BFF's boyfriend, flew into town and we've done everything she's wanted to do without complaining. As far as I'm concerned, fuck her sister and her cousins. But that's just me.

After dinner, we get ready for Club Opera. We head inside and at first I'm not feeling it, then I get a couple drinks and I'm good. Eventually some guy walks up and starts talking to me. I ask where he's from, and he says Italy. This is funny as hell to me, because my mother will swear on a stack of Bibles that I am going to marry either a Hispanic or Italian man. We start dancing and he's whispering in my ear about how much he loves Black women. Then I notice that everyone I came to the club with decided to move elsewhere. I kiss and hug my Italian boy goodbye and walk around the club to find my friends. I circle the club once but still don't see them; I tell myself to sober up and walk around once more. Still no luck, so I text and call K. I don't get a response, but I just so happen to wander toward the back of the club, where B is dancing around a stripper pole while BM is frantically snapping pictures as if this is a professional photo shoot. K, BM's boyfriend, and B's other friend (we call her the "Shy One") are standing nearby. By now, the alcohol has worn off and my feet are killing me, so I'm ready to call it a night. K goes out to her car, and the Shy One and I go outside moments later. We sit and wait for B and her other friends to come out, while the Shy One vomits outside of the car. I finally hear the DJ announcing that he's playing the last song, and B and her friends walk to the car looking and acting a drunken hot mess. We're subjected to their babbling all the way home, and once we get into the apartment, I get cleaned up, change clothes, and go to bed.

My flight leaves early the next afternoon, so I wake up and start packing. Once I'm done, I ask K if she will drive me to the airport. The Shy One is ready to go home, and asks us if K will be able to give her a ride too. Suddenly K shouts from her room, "I didn't sign up to be a taxi service!" Oh boy. Then she and B get into a brief argument about why K agreed to drive everyone around if she was going to be tight about it. In spite of K's outburst, she drives the Shy One back to her house, then takes me to the airport. On the way, K says she's not upset with me; she's just annoyed because she feels used and unappreciated by B. She mentions that B complained about the groceries she bought, and never thanked her for anything she did this weekend. I tell her I sensed a diva attitude as well, so I can understand where she's coming from. She drops me off and I rush to check in, since this is the second time I have been running late for my flight.

Whew. I told y'all it would be a long one. Looking back, there wasn't as much fuckery as I claimed, but I'm dramatic, and I don't get out much. Don't judge me. The trip was okay, but like I said, I don't think I could see myself moving back to Atlanta, at least not any time soon. Even though I've only been gone for a few months, I'm getting too old for the pettiness, and I have the feeling I would always be right smack in the middle of B and K's drama if I were still there.

Now I have to figure out where to take my next trip.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

FYI.

I WILL be posting about my trip to Atlanta this past weekend. I got back to work immediately upon returning home so I haven't had time to get all my thoughts together about everything that occurred. Trust, there was plenty of fuckery worth blogging about, and I have a feeling it's going to be a long-ass post. Or maybe I'll break it up into several posts. I don't know.

Anyway, I hope everyone in the Blogger world is doing lovely! Deuces.


Big Chop.

I made the decision several weeks ago to go natural. Not because I'm jumping on any bandwagon, but because relaxers are fucking expensive and time-consuming, and also because I have secretly always wanted to have a big beautiful ass Afro. I don't know why, but I just want it. Most of my hair is still relaxed, but now I have the texture of my new growth as well so I'm in between textures. (In other words, I'm in the "transitional" stage. That's some of the fancy lingo I've picked up from browsing natural hair websites.) It's kind of annoying having to deal with both textures, so the next logical step would be to do the "Big Chop," or "BC."

I cut my hair about a year ago and have been wearing a style similar to Rihanna's pixie cut back in 2009, so you'd think I would be over the whole "looking like a boy" fear, but for some reason chopping my hair down to a couple inches freaks me out. I think I have a masculine face, and I'm skinny as hell so.....yeah. As if I don't already have a hard enough time getting noticed by guys, I can only imagine how it will be once I'm nearly bald.

Is that what it's really about though? Probably not, but I just have to be honest about my concerns. I never thought hair texture/length was that big of a deal, but it becomes pretty obvious that it is when women will quickly throw on a silky wig or put in weave to make themselves look more attractive when going out. I suppose I'm still affected by it since I can already hear the comments and see the looks I will get once I do the BC. I already had plenty of people try to convince me NOT to cut my hair last year, although none of them could give me a good reason why. *rolls eyes*

Fuck it. I'ma do it. It's just hair. If I hate it, I can always just put a paper bag over my head, right?

In the meantime, here are some photos of my "natural" inspirations:















Monday, October 11, 2010

I Hate It When.................

..........I "like" someone's status on Facebook and get a notification that so-and-so commented on that status afterward. I go look at the status and it turns out some asshole has added an insignificant-ass comment such as "LMAO!" or "Co-sign!" or "Amen!" Why? If you don't have anything funny or thought-provoking to add, why are you commenting? Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't the "like" option added to indicate that you agree, or "co-sign" with what someone else said? Why are you wasting time typing, and wasting 12 seconds of my life to read your boring, unnecessary, one-word comment?

..........I'm craving a particular food item/snack that I have stashed at home, and I fantasize about said food item/snack all day while I'm at work. Then I go home, search through the refrigerator or pantry.......and my shit is gone.

..........I work my ass off to save money for a specific reason, i.e. I want to go on a trip or buy a new pair of shoes. As soon as I have some cash "saved," my car decides to go wacky, and I have to come out of pocket with a couple hundred bucks, because we all know car repairs ain't cheap. So much for saving.

..........People nearly collide with me coming out of the door at work and go on about their business without so much as saying "Excuse me" or even blinking an eye. It's like.....damn, no manners though?

..........I go to a store to try on a pair of shoes or a dress, and the sales rep either (a) knocks on the dressing room door every 5 seconds asking if I'm doing okay, or (b) watches me while trying on the shoes and makes fake-ass comments like, "Oh my gosh, those look sooooooooooo cute on you!" as if I don't know she's just saying that so I can buy them. I understand showing good customer service, but that over-the-top shit is disturbing.

..........I watch Lifetime and every movie has the EXACT SAME story line: Girl meets boy, girl falls in love, girl finds out boy is really a psychopathic con artist who escaped from a psychiatric ward/prison, girl confronts boy about his secret past rather than going to the police like a normal person, girl pretends she is going to shoot boy but allows him to get within two inches of her and boy takes gun, girl suddenly gets a burst of superhuman strength and knocks boy over a balcony, police cars race to the scene 30 seconds later, yet boy has somehow managed to run away after falling 20 feet to the ground. Fast forward to the last scene and boy is now living on some tropical island in perfect health, preparing to lure another unsuspecting girl into a trap that is only possible in made-for-TV films.

While we're talking about movies, I also hate it when sequels come out, and the original film was no good to begin with. Take for example, "Paranormal Activity." In my opinion, that movie sucked. The whole movie was full of non-scary bullshit, like curtains moving, lamps flickering, and doors slamming shut on their own. It didn't get scary--or at least uncomfortable--until the last 5 minutes, and I was ultimately pissed that I spent $10 for 5 minutes of scariness. Why then, is there a "Paranormal Activity 2"? I'm assuming from the last movie that the only two characters died (apologies to anyone who didn't see the first "PA"), so what is the second one about? Is it supposed to be scarier because there is a dog and a baby involved now?

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Obstacles.

I was speaking to my mother the other day about a class she recently began teaching at a local university. Her students were introducing themselves to the rest of the class, and several of them made reference to the fact that they are continuing their education, "in spite of" having one or two kids. Their mindset, I'm assuming, is that they are setting themselves apart from young single mothers who quit school after having children.

This isn't the first time I have heard about and/or witnessed women my age testify about "fighting against the odds," and it is another one of my pet peeves. I try not to judge anyone who got "caught up" back in high school and had a baby or two or three, or four, but I get pissed off when these same women turn around and act as if they are supposed to receive a gold star for a decision THEY made. They moan and groan about how hard it is to juggle having kids, working full-time, AND going to school, as if someone put a gun to their heads and made them pop those babies out.

The point I made when talking to my mother is that I don't understand people who talk about having kids, as if the kids are an obstacle they have had to overcome. When I think of an obstacle, I think of something that you had no control over, something that came into your life unexpectedly. Overcoming an obstacle would be someone that was hit by a drunk driver and confined to a wheelchair for the rest of their lives, yet they went on to win a gold medal in the Special Olympics. Unless you were raped and got pregnant, you consciously made the decision to conceive that child, and you made the decision to carry that child for nine months and bring it into the world. In other words, it's no one's fault other than your own that you have to get up at 6am every day to get Lil' Ray Ray ready for daycare.

Maybe I sound bitter.....and that's because I am. Fuck it. I just don't see why the baby mamas of the world feel they should get more kudos than those that have not had children yet. It's like they've taken over, to the point where people look at me strange because I DON'T have any kids. I've had friends and family tell me I should be proud that I don't fit into the crowd of young women with kids. I don't know why though. Once upon a time, having kids in high school was something frowned upon; nowadays it seems to be glorified. It's almost as if society wants young girls to have kids, so Hollywood producers can make biopics about how these girls "beat the odds." Take Fantasia, for example. Do you think America would have been as fascinated with her, had she not been a young single mother/high school dropout? Would the movie "Precious" have been as popular if the lead character had not been an illiterate young woman with two small children? When was the last time you saw a documentary about a woman going to school and trying to make ends meet, without the extra load of having a child?

Bottom line: To the young mothers out there, you do NOT deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for changing diapers during the day, and studying College Algebra at night. If this offended anyone, you're welcome.

Monday, October 4, 2010

On Second Thought.......


I know I wrote this post a while back about my take on the Bad Girls Club reality show, where I professed my minor obsession with the ability to take a walk on the wild side through the cameras that follow the girls around Miami. After watching the past few episodes of BGC, I won't completely recant my previous statement; this is more of an addition to my thoughts since that post.

Now that BGC is nearing the end of the season, I am often left wondering if I just finished viewing a reality show episode, or an edition of "Girls Gone Wild." I don't think there has been one episode where the girls have NOT made out with each other and/or stripped down and jumped in the pool or shower for some group action. Their "fights" mostly consist of arguing with themselves in an empty room (but loud enough for their other roommates to hear), and throwing one another's clothes on the front lawn. Scary right?

*Cue not-so-Bad Girl talking shit to her equally not-so-Bad minion: "That bitch wants to mess with me?! I'll show her! Come on girl, we're going to throw ALL her panties out on the driveway! DONE!"*

*Not-so-Bad minion's response: "Hell yeah, that'll show her! You're soooo bad!" (while puffing on a cigarette)*

Whereas previous seasons of BGC seemed to have a mixture of catfights, drunken shenanigans, and sex, this particular season is just.......sex. Not just any sex; LESBIAN sex. Because somehow, being a lesbian = bad. Who decided that? I have no idea, but that's the message I get from watching. One girl even stated that she is a lesbian because "being straight is boring." So I suppose everyone in the world only has to start dating the same sex if they want a little spice in their lives. To say I'm offended is an understatement. I'm sure the producers think they're being "edgy." I think they're only showing just how archaic and small-minded they really are. Like many people's views on homosexuality, it is making the assumption that same-sex relations are a deviation that only "bad" people can participate in. Lesbians can't just be normal people who are capable of maintaining monogamous relationships; they only have the ability to make out with three other girls in a hot tub after too many shots of Patron.

I know that I shouldn't be looking for reality television to show an accurate depiction of lesbians, but I think it's pretty sad that this is the selling point for the season. I don't know how great of a strategy it was for them to go this route; I can't speak for anyone else, but I know that I can only take so much of seeing overly-airbrushed girls swapping spit in a limo. That ain't my idea of bad.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Rep Yo City.

*Disclaimer: I know I'm random, but I'm not TOTALLY random. Last week I heard a radio announcement that Nelly's next album will be titled Nelly 5.0. That irked me for some reason, which inspired this post.


For every major city in the US, there seems to be a rapper designated as the "official" spokesperson of that particular city. Atlanta has TI, Brooklyn has Jay-Z, Chicago has Kanye West, Orlando has......Flo Rida? Scratch that last example, but you get what I mean. I wish there was an option to vote for what rapper can rep their city, because whenever I reveal to an out-of-towner that my hometown is St. Louis, I can't help but roll my eyes when they exclaim
, "Aww, you from Nellyville, huh?!"

Why does the mention of Nelly's name make me cringe, you ask? Let me count the ways.


1. The Band-Aid



I'm not sure if anyone else remembers, but Nelly wor
e a white Band-Aid on his cheek for a long period of time. I suppose he first started wearing it due to a basketball injury, but eventually Nelly revealed that it also had a "symbolic" meaning and was intended as a shout-out to St. Lunatics member City Spud, who was in jail for a robbery conviction. All I wanted to know back then--and still want to know--is.....why a Band-Aid, Nelly? You couldn't just say, "Free City!" like all of the other rappers after every performance? Or maybe wear a "Free City" t-shirt? Was it not good enough that a whole St. Lunatics album was dedicated to City Spud? Thankfully, the unintended fashion accessory never caught on in St. Louis (or any other city, to the best of my knowledge), and a higher power must have told Nelly the Band-Aid wasn't a good look, because he eventually ceased from sporting the adhesive out in public.


2. Tip Drill

There are a few events I believe have set black people
back several hundred years: the Flavor of Love reality series, the invention of Twitter, and Nelly's "Tip Drill" video. Nelly ignited some major controversy back in 2004 when he released an uncut video that included colorful lyrics such as "it must be yo' ass, 'cuz it ain't yo' face" and lots of ass shaking. One of the most "memorable" scenes is when Nelly slides a credit card between one woman's ass cheeks. I'm embarrassed just by writing that. The controversy came to a head (no pun intended), when several Spelman students joined together with plans to confront Nelly at a charity event scheduled to take place at the Spelman campus. Nelly canceled his scheduled appearance at the last minute. Surprise. Which brings me to my next point.


3. Kat Stacks



Nelly was just one of many rappers caught in the tangled, STD-infested web of scandals weaved by the infamous Kat Stacks. He is one of the first men she outed when she first came on the scene months ago, as she blogged detailed accounts of arguments she and Nelly had
outside of his studio when she was drunk. And of course, Nelly chose to take things to the next level when he called in during a Shade 45 radio interview with Kat Stacks, and proceeded to "hide" his identity by anonymously interrogating her about the accuracy of her stories. Being the mentally deficient human being that she is, Kat Stacks had no idea who she was talking to at first, and Nelly insisted that she was lying because she could not remember the name of any hotel they had met at. Now, I really don't give a damn whether Nelly slept with Kat Stacks or not. My issue is this: You have soooo much to say in attempts to "clear your name" over allegations made by some groupie hoe knowing damn well that you smashed her, yet you couldn't man up and explain yourself to college students about why you chose to make that tasteless "Tip Drill" nonsense? Boo, Cornell. Boo. Yes, I used his government.


4. Nursery Rhymes

I don't think there is too much that needs to go here. We are talking about a man whose claim to fame was a single that included the lyrics "shimmy shimmy cocoa puff." 'Nuff said.


5. Apple Bottoms





Anyone who knows me knows that I have a deep hatred for all things hoodrat related. Hoodrat labels, in particular, make me itch. Therefore, I could not complete this blog post without speaking on Nelly and the role he has played in contributing to the hoodrat epidemic. The Apple Bottoms brand launched in 2003, and was targeted towards African-American women who had a hard time fitting into jeans that were intended to conform to the body types of their Caucasian counterparts. I get the concept, and it's actually not a horrible idea. But just like 99.9% of "urban" fashion brands, the clothes are always adorned with garish rhinestones and shit, whether it's a t-shirt, jean pockets, or a hoodie. I don't know who is in charge of the Apple Bottoms design team, but someone needs to tell them that just because I'm black, doesn't mean I want some damn bedazzled apples splashed all over my freakum dress.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Here We Go.

So.......I may or not get fired because I said "Oh my God" under my breath while dealing with a belligerent customer today. And the thought of being fired makes me happy and sad.

Happy, because I have loathed coming to work every day since I started training, and because I feel absolutely violated that I have to work 60+ hours a week just to pull a decent paycheck. Sad, because a shitty job is the equivalent of being in a shitty relationship/friendship: you hate it and know it should be put to an end, but when and if that time ever comes, you want to be the one doing the dumping, not the other way around.

Anyway, back to this cunt who called in today. I usually refrain from using that word because it's super vulgar, but in this case, that's the best word I can think of to describe the woman I spoke with. She was nasty from the moment I answered the call. Her complaint was that she had ordered a replacement phone yesterday, and got an e-mail with the tracking number. When she checked the e-mail, she saw an order for a replacement battery for a phone that she did not own. I checked the order tracking system to try to figure out what she was talking about. I saw the order for her phone, but nothing about a battery. At this point, I'm thinking: "This bitch is crazy." She obviously just wanted to call to complain about an issue that didn't exist, then got pissed because I couldn't find any information regarding this non-existent issue. She complained about how many times she had been transferred before getting to my department, and demanded to know why another customer service rep had told her there was an order for a battery if there wasn't. I paused for about ten seconds while looking through previous notes on her account, and she snapped that "all this dead silence is bad customer service."

At some point, I suppose I muttered, "Oh my God" out of pure frustration that I had to stay on the phone with a customer who didn't even have a real issue, when I could be helping someone who did. At this point, she asked for a supervisor and said, "Do you want your job? I hope they're recording this call." I gladly put her on hold to get in touch with someone in the "escalations" department, and she hung up while I was speaking with someone on the other line. The escalations team member told me he would call her back, and that was that.

Now I think I was fairly calm, considering the situation. I can think of a million worse things that I could have said besides "Oh my God." However, I have had first-hand experience with being terminated over some petty shit, based solely on the whim of the pigmentally-challenged, and I'm in no hurry to be in that predicament again. I've heard stories of people from my current job getting the boot because they said a few choice words to a customer when they thought they had hit the mute button, but I don't know if my slip-up is serious enough to require disciplinary action.

We shall see. I just know that if I find out I don't have a job after a 35 minute drive tomorrow, some office equipment will be vandalized.