I Prefer A Far-Away Crush

That unattainable man in a picture somewhere that I don't know and will never meet? The one with the messy beard and long dreads? With the washboard abs and chiseled everything else? The one who loves to paint and dance and cook and travel the world? Who loves sports and the arts equally? Who cares about me and my work and my family?
 

SOURCE: beardedandblack

 We're perfect for each other in my head.

All others need not apply.

*smooches...indulging in some internet eye candy*
----------
and don't even bother telling me if you know this guy. It ruins the fantasy if I actually have access to him!

Pretty Ni**as

FRIEND: Look at how cute this guy is:



FRIEND: The only thing is he has intermittent facial hair.

ME: I could look past that, however he looks like the type of negro that will rock your socks off BUT have 30 bitches on the side.

FRIEND: It's the thin nose and lips; untrustworthy.

ME: Mhmm. Pretty ni**as always act up.

FRIEND: Mmhmm.

ME: Don't let him have "good" hair. Sheeeeiiiiiittttttt, you'll only see him every other Thursday, talkin' bout "I'm in the studio, bae!"

FRIEND: O_o That's why I don't deal with 'em. I can't take any dude seriously who would be considered mainstream attractive. Like, if a fine dude try to holla at me, I'd catch an attitude. "The fuck you want?!"

ME: LMAO!!! yeah. I like my black men beaten, bruised and with low self-esteem. I need to be the baddest bitch in this relationship, bruh.

FRIEND: Ma'am!

*smooches...lowering my standards in the name of comedy*
----------
or am I?

Race Relations

FRIEND: How come when I look up "multiracial family holiday dinner" in Thinkstock, the minority wife always looks like the help?

ME: Because white dudes always marry help-looking black women. And vice versa. How's that?

FRIEND: That'll play

ME: I must admit- it's extremely rare that I'll come across an interracial couple that doesn't look like what we've described

FRIEND: LoL!

ME: And when I do, the black woman is bi-racial herself. You know what this made me think about?

FRIEND: what?

ME: I've noticed that I'll give a pass to dark-skinned black men who aren't that cute because of their dark-skin. Like I'll still be attracted to them. Is that racist? But let a light-skinned dude be average. I'm all "DO BETTER!"

FRIEND: lmao! Ma'am...

ME: It's reverse for black women. I think Massa has programmed me to think as such...

FRIEND: prolly. It's all Massa's fault

ME: How do I deprogram so I don't end up married to some creature from the black planet (dot com)? I need to see ugly for ugly, and not skin color. I'm too cute to date a creature!

FRIEND: Agreed. I'm programmed to want to physically violate attractive dark skinned men but only want to have the children of light skinned men so I can have brown babies.

ME: LMAO! Ma'am

FRIEND: What? It's true.

ME: We bofe need deprogramming

FRIEND: I'm extra careful every time I sleep with a dark skinned dude. "You gotta wear a condom AND pull out."

ME: I need you to leave and never come back

FRIEND: That's my truth.

*smooches...realizing my friends STILL ain't shit*
----------
but I guess we'll be ain't shit together

Because Bad Credit Isn't Embarrassing Enough

Tonight I met the most beautiful man.

Wait- let me back up a bit and go on a tangent.

Recently, I decided I was done dating. I don't really like myself right now and I REALLY don't like other people, and the thought of a first date makes me want to burrow INTO my sofa instead of just laying on it. And TMI but it has to be said, I don't enjoy sex. It's messy and my fibroids make the act rather painful. The thought of having to fake it YET AGAIN with someone new is too much for me right now. I don't want to. So I decided to just be done with dating because I know how you men are; no sex is a dealbreaker, right? Right.

On another tangent, having to deal with Ks tuition bills and my own suffocating debt has forced me to really face the music about my finances and crawl out of this broke-ass sinkhole once and for all. I have a great job that pays me super-well. There's no reason why I should be emptying out piggy banks at the local CoinStar machine just to buy groceries. At work, I heard about a free service offered by the City to meet with a financial counselor one-on-one and I jumped at the chance. FREE is my favorite word these days, and frankly, all I can afford until I snag up three more jobs like the third cousin twice removed of the Hedleys.



This is where both tangents meet up and give birth to the first sentence of this post.

Tonight I met the most beautiful man. He was tall, brown skin, bearded, fit, smart, well-groomed, funny, charming, and possessed the sexiest pair of lips I've seen in a very long time. He plays football, y'all. FOOTBALL. He owns his own home and other properties. He's so "good on paper" I'd sign off on a myomectomy so fast, just so that I could give him a million babies.

People, he was EVERYTHING in my imagination, at least.

Tonight I met the most beautiful man. But, because my life is a motherfucking sitcom, that man just happens to be the person who is now privy to my atrocious credit score, terrible spending habits, and irresponsibly out-of-control debt.

Touché, Jesus. I see what you did there.

*smooches...losing miserably at life*
-----------
I've never really been good at chess but I do believe this is a checkmate situation, no?

Lost In Translation: The Don Lemon Disaster

So as I understand it, Black Twitter has ousted CNN personality Don Lemon from The Club because of some recent comments that have deemed him an Uncle Tom (a diss I don't fully understand because I never read the book. I've currently pulled it off the shelf at work. I might read it unless one of you can give me the Cliff's Notes.). At first I cared not even one little bit. Not even a smidgen. I used to have a crush on Lemon but as soon as he came out as gay I moved on. I don't believe in fighting that fight, y'all. I know how good penis can be; there's no way to turn a man who likes penis.

But everyone and their momma kept talking about it (even created a hastag on the Twitter--Don Lemon Logic--about it) which made me finally read an article about Lemon's comments to see what was so bad about it. In a nutshell, Lemon agreed with something that Bill O'Reilly said about "...high levels of crime in 'black precincts'" and the "'disintegration of the African-American family'" and also discussed "...the 'gansta culture' pushed by the entertainment industry." Specifically, Lemon listed five ways we, as black people, could do better in life:

• Respect our communities
• Finish school
• Pulling up sagging pants
• Eliminating the n-word
• Addressing the issue of absentee fathers [source: The Daily Caller]

Honestly, folks, this isn't a bad list. If I have to see another young man's underwear without my consent, I'm going to scream. If I have to see another couple get pregnant accidentally on purpose and not take responsibility for the life they create, I'm going to hurt someone. But these things aren't only in the black community, so maybe that's why y'all are mad at Lemon?

I mean, that list is a very good start to fixing a bunch of serious issues within many black communities. Where I think maybe Ol' Don lost y'all was in laying this out as THE plan to fix everything, without addressing certain facts of modern life that are designed to keep the same groups down in the muck so that those with power ALWAYS have power.

I don't know; I'm not seeing why his remarks lit y'all all the way up, is what I'm saying. Maybe y'all didn't understand what he meant or he didn't express it properly? There just seems to be a communication breakdown somewhere, because I can see where he's going with this and let me tell ya- it's not a bad place.

Feel free to tell me I'm wrong so I can ignore you in the comments.

*smooches...ready to beat his ass if it's warranted*
-----------
y'all know I'm all Black Panther-y now. just say the word and that jive turkey's ass is grass!

The Case For "Something New"

On Sunday, while meeting with the ladies of my writing group, the conversation turned to relationships and one of the ladies said of her openness to date a white man, "I would like to date someone who hasn't experienced the burden of slavery." And while we all burst out in hysterical laughter at her comment, her statement made so much sense to me.

Every guy I've dated has had some remnant of our oppressive past on his shoulders, just sitting there, waving to me from across the table. And you know what? It does get exhausting after a while. Why can't things just be easy? Why can't we just be and live? Oh, right, because The Man is systematically keeping us down. Crap. I almost forgot, but thanks for reminding me as we wait an extra 15 minutes for our table to be ready.

Still, Sunday's conversation had me thinking about my friends who are married to white men, and how those men don't have the defeated aura hanging around them like a clingy ex. They grew up with their dads. They've never been profiled by the cops. They didn't try to get some sleep under a hail of gunfire. Must be nice. I'll just add this to the list of things I won't ever have a chance to experience, like climbing Mt. Everest or running a 5K.

This doesn't mean I've changed my position on dating a white man...I really just don't find them that attractive. But listen, my writing group buddies made a very good case. It's a much more carefree life when you're with the unoppressed, and who doesn't want a carefree life? I get it, ladies, and I promise not to mock you when I see you arm-in-arm with a snowflake.

Me? I'm still waiting out Johan's and Slash's marriages...

*smooches...content in my singlehood*
-----------
listen, you don't have to tell me that I'm not going to find my chocolate Adonis. I already know and I've accepted my fate.

Not Just Gang Members, Human Beings

This weekend I watched the documentary Crips and Bloods: Made in America, and let me tell you...I cried. I'll explain.

See, I'm of the school of "Don't give the cops a reason and you'll be FINE" and have never really put any credence in the ghetto mentality of The Man keeping "us" down. I grew up in the ghetto in the heart of the crack era and it didn't keep me down. I always joke about The Man, but I've never considered him a real threat.

Enter this fakakta documentary.



I was sitting there listening to these former and current gang member discuss their experiences and world views and you know what? I get it. If I had been told, at any point in my life, that I couldn't do something just because of the color of my skin or because of where I live, I would be bitter, too. If I had been stopped by the police everyday just for not being in my own neighborhood, I'd be angry, too. If my neighbors and kids were being gunned down in the street everyday while the cops did nothing to really prevent it, I'd feel hopeless, too. And if my environment offered no opportunities to better my situation, I'd give no fucks about life, too.

And if there was no one around to tell me about my options, offering me a way out, and only found comfort and protection from a local gang, I'd see no problems with making violence my way of life, too. I'd barely feel human!

These are young men and women being born into and growing up in a culture of constant harassment and poverty and depression, contained by invisible walls. And just outside that wall is freedom and happiness, but god forbid you cross the wrong street.

One former gang member said it best, when discussing the Watts and LA riots, stating that the police and National Guard didn't scare them because they were used to a cycle of guns and violence every damn day. The riots were just an extension of that. I couldn't even imagine that kind of life. I could hold back my tears no more.

The documentary did highlight the grassroots efforts afoot to help get these kids off the streets and out of the cross-hairs of the LAPD, and it did offer some hope, but without the backing of city, state and federal officials and funding, it's barely a drop in the bucket.

Toward the end, one former Crip, in an effort to reach the young gang members, looks into the camera with tears in his eyes (so of course by now I'm inconsolable) and says:

"Your reward for gang-banging is to be crippled, lamed, for life. Your greatest reward is life, plus forty years. Your ultimate reward for gang-banging is death. And you don't come back from that."

But after watching the documentary, though, I have to ask...what if death is better than what you have to come back to? Wouldn't gang-banging be a walk in the clouds?

*smooches...finally getting it*
---------
also, fuck the PO-lice!

Things That Are President Obama's Fault, Vol. 1

• My depression
• The car accident that killed Sen. Robert McCallister on "Brothers & Sisters"
• The U.S. men's gymnastics team losing the gold at the London Games
• "Call Me Maybe" being stuck in my head all the time
• iPods' short shelf-life
• Mr. Marcus knowingly spreading syphilis to other porn actors
• People who speak loudly into their cellphones on the bus
• Cloudy days
• The new Barclay's Center at Atlantic Terminal
• Snookie

*smooches...scapegoating like a mofo*
---------
when in doubt, blame the Black man; isn't that how it goes? 

Wooing

HIM: Who is that on [the screensaver of] your phone?

ME: Idris Elba. That's my boo.

HIM: Really?

ME: I have a thing for Black men with accents.

HIM: (in a great fake Jamaican accent) Wha gwaan gyal...

*smooches...still laughing at that mess*
---------
a great sense of humor is priceless in my eyes

I Refuse To Apologize!

Man oh man! The internet is at it again, starting trouble among the masses. This time via an article written by a black woman apologizing to black men for a myriad of supposed infractions, including opening up her womb to "the enemy" and allowing her degrees to make her feel superior.

First of all, I won't link it here because I'd rather not be associated with what she wrote because I, sirs & madams, am NOT SORRY.

Second of all, get all the way the fuck out of my universe with that subservient patriarchal BULL.

Because let me tell you something: I will not be sorry for my advanced degrees and subsequent feelings of superiority over someone who does not have them. I worked for that. I paid for that. Hell, I'm STILL paying for that! I put in the time, the effort, expanded my mind, immersed myself in an intellectual awakening and I'll be damned if that doesn't make me better than someone who pissed his life away doing nothing in his mom's basement.

I will not be sorry for dating outside my race (on the rare occasions that I did that) because if a guy is good looking and nice and sexy and funny and intrigues me? Well guess what? I'm going to date him.

I will not be sorry for not needing a man in my life to be successful and happy and all that. The bottom line is no woman NEEDS a man. She may want one to complement her; someone with whom to share her life and grow old, to bring forth new life, and that's cool. In fact, that's beautiful! But she certainly doesn't NEED him.

And I won't apologize if black men feel emasculated by black women because we earn more or can support ourselves or are buying our own homes or whatever. Frankly, that's a YOU problem, not a ME problem. And if you're expecting THIS Afro-Latina to jump on that "sorry" bandwagon FOR. GET. IT.

Jaded AIN'T sorry; she's awesome!

*smooches...waving my degrees in the air like I just don't care*
------------
it's bull like that letter that sets us all back *smh*

That Awkward Moment...

...when you're on a date with a man to whom you've conceded to giving this whole monogamy-marriage-family a try, even though he's proven himself not really compatible with you and your life in the past, and think you look cute because you've lost 12 pounds, but he points out that you're still a fat ass cow with a looooong way to go until arriving at fit-ville... that's the moment you realize being single ain't all that bad.

So you go home, give the middle finger to washing the make-up off your face because, really- who the fuck cares at this point, right? And just plop yourself down on the couch you've been calling your bed for almost a year now (because your real bed is too big and the closeness to the couch cushions simulates not sleeping alone. True story!) and remember why it was you gave him his walking papers in the first place.

Exes are exes for a reason, y'all. I get that now. I didn't want to believe it before but yeah, I finally understand it. Because you ain't fitna have me wearing EYE MAKEUP and uncomfortable mother-fucking shoes AND insist I put a comb through my 'fro just to call me fat.

Negro, BYE!

*smooches...still mad I rushed home just to be insulted*
----------
I was having a good ol' time stuffing my FAT face with fried chicken and baked beans out on Long Island and had to end it early to make this date happen...ol' rude ass motherfucker...

I'm In Love With A Trainer.

So remember all the bitching and moaning I was doing about not losing weight and being tired and not wanting to continue with these fitness classes because I just want to be a lazy bum? Right. I just found the inspiration & motivation to power through my inner couch potato. And his name is Jason Quick.




GIFSoup

His bio boasts "...18 years of fighting and training..." experience, and he's a former Marine, boxer, is NASM certified and is a 5th Degree Master Black Belt. But none of that matters as much as the what the sight of his carefully chiseled abs do to my girly parts...




GIFSoup

...which in turns makes me want to work hard in class. Just to please him.

I know I should be working out for me, to get healthy and fit, to turn my body into a lean, fat-burning machine, but y'all just don't understand... in the middle of class he used his shirt to wipe his brow and I swear I almost fainted when I saw his naked flesh. Then he came over to me and had me demonstrate a combination of punches with him and it took me to this happy place...


GIFSoup

Then HE SPOKE TO ME to see how I felt after class (GOD I think I giggled!!! ::slaps forehead:: I fucking giggled, y'all) and I proceeded to ask him about continuing with the classes after my voucher expires. Then...THEN, he recommended one-on-one sessions.


GIFSoup

It was like an out-of-body experience. I really don't know how I held it together! I just want to lick all manner of sticky dessert toppings off of his body. Like, for real.

And YES, I know it's his JOB to push for the more expensive personal training sessions but FUCK YOU! Don't ruin my fantasy!! We'll be dating by the fall, engaged by Memorial Day and married by Christmas!

*smooches...plotting & scheming*
----------
you're all invited to the wedding :)

Come Get Yo' Cousins Vol. 1: Subway Assaults

I don't enjoy making fun of people. Really I don't. I used to but these days I'd rather use my powers for good instead of evil.

But your cousins won't let me BE.

Exhibit A:


Cousin Becky was wearing this atrocity in the middle of winter. Please take her shopping for some taste.

Exhibit B:


Cousin Jasper was not just Pretty in Purple, he was rockin' a Don King salt n pepper 'fro and carrying a WALKMAN! Please get him a stylist. From the year 2010.

I ain't got time for your relatives...

*smooches...rinsing my eyes with saline solution*
----------
why me, Baby Jesus, whyyyyyy? I swear, man, the MTA brings a fresh new hell for me every time I board a train...

On The Train For Reno...And Other Musings

Another Monday, another string of random postings. Ready? Let's GO!

Blogging Etiquette: This Ain't A Dating Site!
(You know the deal: Smarty P. Jones and The F$%k-It List and I have teamed up to help guide you through the finer points of interacting with others in the blogoshpere. So pay attention.)



When I started blogging it was merely a new form of keeping a journal, one that my friends could openly peek through. But as more and more strangers began to find my page and I became an active participant in the blogging world, I began to notice that people were using their sites as a platform for attracting love affairs.

I'm not immune to this; I've had a couple of suitors pursue me via my blog, even entertained it for a minute and then I realized- I know who I am, but I don't know who they are. It's the internet; they place where The Crazies can pretend to be normal. SO I'm here to say to you, speaking from experience, if someone approaches you with romantic overtures because of something they read on your blog? That's a red flag. Run away. Run away fast.

The Unemployment Blues
So many of us are out of work these days it's a wonder the suicide rate isn't higher. The auto industry, the publishing industry, even retail markets- no where is safe from this "economic downturn" devouring us right now. So I've decided to take it to the airwaves.



Join Irene and me tonight on Monday Musings as we discuss how best to deal with unemployment, from pulling yourself out from under to staying afloat until your next steady check comes around. So tune in, punkie... you know you want to!

On The Train For Reno
A few months ago I watched the 1939 version of the film "The Women" and besides falling in love with the acting and the writing, I also took away a bit of wisdom from it.

The story line follows a socialite who finds her husband is having an affair with a shop girl and has to face the humiliation of the entire society page knowing about her failed marriage. While in the process of trying to come away from it with some dignity, this soon-to-be divorcee travels to Reno where any and everyone can go to get a quickie divorce.

She meets up with others in Reno who are there for divorces as well, and they sit around reflecting on the mistakes they made to end up in this predicament. While one says she should've never married for love and another laments marrying money, one wise woman says, "No matter what you pick them for, where does it get you? On the train for Reno."

How true and depressing at the same time. So if it's all going to end anyway, let's just go out there and have a good time, okay? Okay!


Afro-Latinos Are The Prettiest Kind
Shout out to Eb the Celeb for a very fun evening at the Doghouse Saloon last Thursday. She was the guest bartender for Karaoke night and it was a much needed fun night out with the NYC Blogging Posse.

But I want to bring your attention to these attractive sons of bitches right here:


Did I ever tell you the one about the Dominican, the Haitian and the Panamanian...?

*smooches...a little too conceited about my new hair*
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except, I'm not giving enough neck in this photo; Tyra would be so disappointed in me...

Voice Mail Message I Was Forced To Leave

"Hi, it's Rocky, and as your friend I feel it's my place to let you know that you've passed the age where it is appropriate to have a song playing as your voice mail greeting. Thank you and good day."



*smooches...side eye-ing mofos through the phone*
----------
I mean, really, I love Buju Banton as much as the next Caribbean native, but static-y Buju in my ear for 1.5mins = I will not be calling you very often.

Fuck The Police, But Only In Theory

I am not naive to the corruption that exists in police departments across the U.S., especially here with our very own Boys in Blue. They do have a tendency to be mean for no reason, have a penchant for racial profiling and on many occasions have been a little too fast with the baton and the gun. I get all that.

I can also understand that being a police officer includes a level of stress that many of us will never have to experience. You and I go to the office and at most we have to deal with that bitch in accounting who likes to talk your ear off or the guy in sales who is a total pervert or your boss, the idiot, who wouldn't know a personality if it bit him in the face.

A police officer goes to work everyday, much like a soldier in the armed forces, with the knowledge that it could very well be his last, because that's the nature of the beast. "You live by the sword..." then dammit, that might just be how you meet your maker.

Keeping that in mind, I find it hard to understand those people that feel it is appropriate to pick a fight with a cop. Regardless of what the officer did or is doing, how does one not realize that going up against an armed officer is going to end well for them? Where is the logic in that? I'm not advocating for being a punk and allowing yourself to be a victim, but there are proper channels for handling an out-of-pocket police officer, and getting in his face while he's questioning you is probably NOT the best time.

Exhibit A: I knew this guy, we'll call him Urkel (inside joke), who was sort of woo-ing me pretty hard until one day he told me a tale that turned me off for good. He was leaving a family member's house, walking towards his car in the late night to head to work and was stopped by a patrol car. Now this was a few months ago so the details of the story are a bit choppy in my Swiss cheese brain, but what I do remember is that he sassed the officers from jump. And this isn't me making a judgment call; he admitted to having an attitude because: "I didn't like how disrespectful they were when they approached me, so I don't think I needed to show them any respect." Oh REALLY?

I don't know about you all, but if a police officer stopped me because I fit the description of a criminal they are looking for, the last thing I'm going to want to do is give them a reason to haul me into the station. I'm going to ask what I'm being questioned/stopped for and I will furnish them with identification, but I will NOT become aggressive or flippant or roll my eyes or challenge them, and I really don't think this is something a grown ass man should have to be told.

If you already know cops are trigger-happy assholes, why give them a reason? Why raise your voice? Why the attitude? Seriously, for all those cops know you ARE the criminal they are looking for, and that duffel bag you're carrying isn't your work uniform but rather a sawed off shotgun or your ex-girlfriend's chopped up remains. The point is police officers are probably taught to expect the worse every time they stop someone, so YOU'RE stank-ass, righteous indignation isn't going to make the point you think it's going to make. Chances are those cops went home and told their buddies about some stupid ni**er that tried to come out his face when stopped for questioning, and how they almost had to kick his ass. I'll put my rent money on that.

So while Urkel is telling his story- getting angrier by the minute and YELLING through the phone at me- I'm seeing this side of him that is NO BUENO. I try to calm him down (well what I actually said was "First of all you're gonna watch what tone of voice you use with me..." because I keeps it real!) and explain to him the other side of the story, seeing as I have police officers and military folk in my family and circle of friends, but he continued to go off on his rant.

And again, I get it, I understand. It's hard to always be seen as a criminal and stopped and questioned and made to feel like shit because of your age or skin color but DAMN. That is no excuse to lose your fucking mind. Or your life.

Blog fam- talk to me. What are your thoughts on this?

*smooches...confused by crazy troll logic*
-----------
he seriously was not trying to hear my point of view and refused to see where he played a part in having this turn from a simple questioning into an all-out incident. Right then and there I decided-RED FLAG- and stopped taking his calls...

I Want You To Know That...

...NYC females love big black cock at 42nd Street



...99% of the time this is my POV



...Brazilians go ALL OUT for their Independence Day



...K's been walking around with wind in her hair all week



...Dead homies are still honored in the hood




...Harlem churches, and the blood of Jesus, hate Obama, too



...Flava Flav rides the subway with all his belongings in a shopping bag



...I saw your uncle pushing a speaker down the street



...And most importantly, I look sexier in Black and White



*smooches...becoming one with my camera phone*
----------
but only because all of my other cameras have died. Feel free to send me a replacement!

Home Depot Mini Photo Blog

For those that don't know, Mami bought a house in Union, NJ, so I've been helping her maneuver through the craziness that is getting a house ready, moving, etc. As if I know!

(I mean I can paint a few rooms and help her layout the furniture just right, but that lawnmower in the garage? I think it threatened to eat my children. And the basement? It told me to GET OUT!)

But when Mari was here Easter weekend we went to Home Depot to talk about paint and bathroom fixtures, etc, and ran across a trio of, um, blogable people. Oh how I love the blogable people of the Tri-State Area. Seriously, they make me smile so hard!

Side note- you know what's really funny? Mami will see something weird and encourage me to capture the pic and then blog it! She's insane. Now it's officially known where I get it from.

And now, prepare yourself for...

Jersey Hair To The 300th Power
Feast your eyes on this HOT GHETTO MESSSSSSSS!





Is she kidding me with this 'do? Really, lady? You got up a whole extra hour that morning to do THAT?

Travis Left Gym Class Heroes?
And decided to mix paint at Home Depot? Let me find out the band broke up...



Why did he have the only attitude, though? He's lucky he didn't bring it our way- when me, Mami and Mari are together, sheeeiiiit, you can just imagine the stankness level.

Babatunde Disguised As Jerome
Mari had me IN TEARS making fun of this dude who took care of us...



his name tag said Jerome but his accent was HEAVY... he had to be from Haiti or the motherland for real... Mari is just all kinds of wrong!

Ahhh, Jersey... At first I was upset that you stole Mami away from me but now, I see why you've come back into my life after a decade; I suspect you will be keeping this blog in business for years to come.

*smooches...anticipating my next trip across the river*
----------
this summer will be very interesting to say the least... I can't WAIT!

It's Black History Month, Y'all...And Other Musings

Tonight on Monday Musings, please tune in as The F$%k-It List schools us on Black History Month: What They Never Taught You in School. We'll also touch upon the significance and debate the necessity of a month dedicated to one group of people in today's multi-cultural world.



And just a lil incentive to tune in: I'd love for listeners to share a rare fact on the history of Black people in America and abroad.

The person with the coolest rare fact will win a copy of W.E.B. Du Bois' The Souls of Black Folks, so all you super-competitive book whores need to start googling shit NOW! Be there or be square.

*******

FYI... brunch + a walk through the park + a quick beer at the bar = a really nice first date. But no worries my lovelies, nothing's changed... ya girl is still JADED!

*******

I only saw the last quarter of the game (via a live stream from a German site! lol) but DAYUMMMMM what a fourth quarter it was! SHEE-IT, I have to admit, even though my team wasn't in it that Superbowl was exciting as all hell.

And now I sit patiently waiting for baseball season to begin... it's a countdown to March 6th, bitchezzzz...

*******

You know what ELSE is cool about NYC? All the cool people you call friends, like the ones I hung with this weekend...

...and new people you meet when you're out and about, like I did this weekend.

You know what's not? All the WANKSTERS that walk among us, disguised as regular human beings... (R. Kelly look-a-like, I'm talking about you... in case you missed my drift...)

*******

I'm so excited about so many upcoming things that I wish I had a fast forward machine... baseball, New Orleans, Chicago, the Motherland, Papi's visit, my tax refund (THANKS UNCLE SAM!) and subsequent payoff and cancellation of my two remaining credit cards, mis cumpleaños, Ks High School acceptance letter, spring, summer, fall and Yes, Christmas. I'm excited about all of it.

Aren't you???

*smooches...annoyingly chipper right now for no apparent reason*
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WTF? okay, who spiked my Soy Milk with happy pills??

A Little Book Talk On A Wednesday

I was high on yellow rice- not to be confused with yellow cake- when I wrote this so please, excuse the randomness of the paragraphs...

While K was at an interview at a HS she wanted to attend, C, N and I headed to the local B&N to peruse the goods. As if either one of us needs another book.

While checking the aisles for new or notable Latino/a writers, I saw a display of coffee table books, and one in particular stood out:



THIS book. Is. Awesome.

And not just because Slash is in it (even if it was the main reason I was drawn to it.) but because it features people like Toni Morrison and Dawn Stanley and Louis Gossett, Jr. discussing how being black affected their lives, their profession, their craft, etc, and... OKAY, it's amazing because Slash is in it.

But still, the stuff the other people had to say was interesting, too. I promise. I read it cover to cover, trying really hard not to puke when I came across Sean Combs and Al Farton's pages. Yuck. Did I ever mention how much I hate those dudes? No? Well, I do.

And yes, I know, I'm not technically Black (although I do consider myself an Afro-Latina), but as Jack so eloquently put in this blog post... I'm "Black By Injection" so suck it!

I highly recommend this book, which is also a documentary on HBO (visit the website here); I liked it so much I borrowed it from the library for like 2 months before I finally broke down and bought the damn thing. Because I was not allowed to renew it anymore. Bastards!

THEN imagine my delight when Irene reminded me about February 7th: First Saturday at the BK Museum... guess what they're discussing?? YUP. The Black List. The authors-- renowned portrait photographer/filmmaker Timothy Greenfield-Sanders and acclaimed NPR radio host, journalist and former New York Times film critic Elvis Mitchell-- will be there and um, would it be cheesy to bring my copy and get an autograph?? Yes? No? Maybe so?

PS- in the future, if you're going to purchase books online, can you do me and the world a favor? Buy from this site:

Better World Books

because proceeds go to literacy programs around the world. And you already know how I feel about literacy...



*smooches...wishing that Slash were going to be at First Saturdays, too*
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but wishing even harder that Sean Combs' wack ass stays far, far away.

have any of you read any good books lately? do tell!