True or False

Blog reader participation time!  below find some statements about yours truly.  its up to you to determine whether they are true or false....

1. even though I absolutely hate needles, I've been inked twice and plan on getting another tattoo.
   
2. once when I was away at college, I was seeing this guy, not too seriously.  I showed up at a small get together with two other guys -friends, and found a whole bunch of my guy's friends including one chick that I thought I was cool with.  I wanted to make sure that they all knew I was just cool with dudes, not banging,  so I approached her and explained, thinking I was coolest with her.  She not only tells dude I showed up drunk with two guys (Everybody was drunk!) but she also tells his other chick (the one that thought they were serious) and tried to set me up to get jumped.  Unfortunately for them, suburban chicks ain't got shit on Bed Stuy when it comes to a good old beat down.  Saw that shit coming a mile a way.  I was feeling a might vengeful after that so (and here's the true or false part) I slept with chick-who-ratted-me-out's man as payback for her running her mouth and starting the whole mess.
   
3. I've been eaten out by another woman
   
4. I can play the trumpet and own an electric guitar and amplifier
   
5. The other week, I was in Katz's Delicatessen (best fucking pastrami in the whole fucking city! also the place where Meg Ryan faked an orgasm in When Harry Met Sally) late night and I turn around after ordering my $16 sandwich (you can make two out of it and it is soooooo fucking worth it) and (here's the true or false part) there was Danny fucking DeVito!
   
6. I haven't eaten an egg - scrambled, fried, poached, over easy, deviled or otherwise - since I was 7 years old
   
7. even though I'm allergic to fish, I'm often found fishing and I once got a fish hook embedded in my middle finger
   
8. I've had sex while other people watched
9. I've dated someone who was 23 years older than I was
10. I've dated a married man
11. I have a blog crush

Make your guesses, and I'll provide the answers on Wednesday...

Back to Black

or Brownie as the case may be.  

It was around this time last year that he first got back in touch with me.  It had been about a year and a half since we had spoken that time.  And I was single, and had fired enough brain cells to forget why I had stopped seeing him in the first place, so we hooked back up.  I said to myself (and a couple of you said it too I believe) that there would be no harm in spending some time with him.  And there really wasn't.  But there really wasn't any gain either...

Honestly, I'm probably the last chick that you have to worry about pressuring a dude for a commitment.  So it wasn't that I was expecting a ring or anything even close to that.  Shit, I wasn't even looking for a toothbrush in his bathroom.  All the fuck I wanted is to feel like I wasn't wasting my time.

What do I mean by wasting my time?  Hmm, let's see.  If you invite me out to eat and spend the night at your house, and I'm wearing the hell out of a gorgeous white sundress and some sexy ass platform sandals and you're wearing basketball shorts, socks and sandals, I think you're wasting my time.  If you call and tell me about this comedy show that your going to this weekend and was wondering if you could stop by on your way home from the show, I think you're wasting my time.  (Really dude, why even tell me about the show?  If it's just about ass, why not just wait til you're on your way to the show and then call and see what I'm doing later?)  If I have to take a two fucking trains (LIRR no less) and spend an hour and 20 minutes just to get out to your house and you tell me that your not going to be able to drive me home (last time he saw my ass by the way) then I think you're wasting my time.

So, why was I chilling with Hautechick and the Artist when my phones starts trilling, "we always said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times, you go back to her and I go back to..."

Appropriate, no?  Wellll, would be if I'd actually said goodbye.  I really just stopped returning his phone calls or answering them if I was by the phone.  I just can't understand why he would call me again.  Ok, so I do have a little inkling as to what might have made him take the chance, but the sex wasn't that good.  At least not on my end.  You know, I really really really really miss having my mind blown.  I keep saying that I'll abstain for awhile, absence and fondness and all that jazz.  But all that ends up happening is that I have all of this unused sexual heat and longing that build and build and build until I can't take it any more and I do someone (usually stoopid) and I end up unleashing all of that on them, which to be honest they usually can't handle, but then their smitten or lusty or whatever the fuck you want to call it and then I can't get rid of their asses.  Or its halfway decent but my aggressiveness scares them off.  Punk asses.

But, that's besides the point.  The point is Brownie called me again, after about a year.  And while I'm not horny, ok so I'm not that horny.  Actually forget I said that part at all.  Anyway, I have a lot of free time on my hands, and he has a pool.  And the weathers nice.  And fuck a dress - sweats and a bikini ya feel me.  But I'll be damned if I drag my ass both ways on the LI fucking RR again....

Hot Damn!

Its late but I need to get this out before I forget.  Sorry if it doesn't make too much sense but I dont think I'm going to get much sleep until I get my day off of my chest.  (Current song : Sexual Eruption, Snoop Dogg) What a fucking day.  My interview wasnt until 1 but I was up at 7.  I stared at the ceiling for awhile til I got a huge hairy paw in my face.  Took Duke out, ate a doughnut (mmmm doughnuts), showered and headed upstairs to get dressed.  (And my curls dropped some in the shower!) Wondering why I had to go upstairs to get dressed?  Well, while I live in the studio on the first floor, Mommy occupies a very nice 3 bedroom duplex.   I'm currently keeping my work clothes up there while I continue to renovate my apartment.  Keeps down on the dog hair on them that way too.  Last minute I decided to wear all black.  Good fucking decision.

I'm moving and shaking, even managed to put a coat of neutral polish on my nails.  Then I can't find my mittens.  I love those mittens!  And they go perfectly with my long black shearling coat.  So I settled for some black knit gloves and stuffed a hat into my newish Coach bag.  (Newish cause I bought it in December and haven't ever carried it, til yesterday)  I'm out the house ahead of time and when I hit the subway platform, heres the momo fucking train.  Owww!  I get to the city a full 30 minutes early for my appointment.  Head up to the office and first impression was that maybe I had made a mistake.  The people in the reception area weren't what I would call quality applicants and the former crackhead looking black receptionist was hating on me from the moment I walked in and took the attention of the former crackhead looking dude waiting in the lobby.  Lucky me.  

Then this chick is asking me to fill out an application.  Would someone please explain to me why I have to fill this shit out when I gave yall my resume and all that shit is on there.  And fuck no I'm not giving you the name , cell and HOME phone numbers for references!  Just when I'm thinking this might have been a waste of my time, here comes my Agent.  An adorable incredibly well maintained upper middle aged Italian woman dressed very nicely in ALL BLACK (go Troubsy!) with some funky colorful glasses on.  We head to her cubicle and pictures of her kid, grandkid and her dogs!  

Sidebar: Would someone please explain to me why I have been given the task of changing the opinion of what dreadlocks are?  I sit down and first thing she says is "Ok, first off, I think your gorgeous, but can I ask are those dreadlocks?!  Whatever they are, they're gorgeous..."  15 minutes later, the woman that sits behind her says "Excuse me, your curls are beautiful, I've never seen dreadlocks like yours." (Current Song - Honey, Ms. Badu)  

After about a half an hour of talking to her and doing some MS Office testing (I had to do some mail merge labels LaShay!) what do you know, I'm on my way to interview at this great little company.  I was supposed to meet with the Head of the Company's assistant, but I ended up meeting with her, one of the partners and the Head.  Go Trouble!  Not only would the job give me the opportunity to do something that I really love, but because of my major it would be the perfect place for me to advance as well!  Only thing is I would be taking a pay cut.  Nothing that would hurt me financially, especially since BossMan is still paying me for awhile longer.  But do I really want to go backwards?  On the other hand, the benefits are really really good and one of the perks is that I wouldn't have to pay for breakfast or lunch.

Shit, I mean this company does exactly what I told Mommy I was interested in when she asked me what I Wanted to do.  I might be jumping the gun, but I'm pretty confident that I impressed them.  I mean the fact that they interviewed me alone told me something, since they had stopped interviewing yesterday.  And I was the first person to meet with more than one person that worked there.  The job would be replacing an admin that is relocating to another state.  Her last day is tomorrow....

Hair Drama Llama

ok so there's no llama, but ever since Daners said it I've been dying to blog jack it.  Plus its hella fun to say.

So I have this interview tomorrow at a placement agency, and I've got the wardrobe thing figured out.  But I have no fucking idea what to do with my hair!  You see, I spent about 12 hours this weekend, washing my hair, tightening my locks and putting each and every single one on a got damned rod roller (how I get my luscious curls.)  So by the time I finished washing and shit, it was like 12:30, no fucking way I was gonna spend 2 hours sitting under the dryer after all of that.  So I tied the largest silk scarf I could find around them bitches and hit the hay.  Or tried to in any case.  Felt like 5 fucking million rollers were trying to bore their way into my skull.  ALL FUCKING NIGHT!  I was cranky the next morning, to say the least.  In fact, it's fucking Thursday and I still have a sore spot on the top of my head.  Which I can't figure out, it's not like I slept standing on my head.  That should be the one spot that doesn't hurt, right?

So the next morning, after all of my hard work the night before, I decided to sit under the dryer just to make sure my curls set.  I sprayed them all with some water, then some good ole fashion oil sheen and promptly fell the fuck asleep under the dryer.  That put a crick in my neck.  But my curls were tight.  No, not tight like good, tight like the belong on a got damned poodle!  And I have a interview tomorrow, errrrk! scratch that, today, my curls still haven't dropped any and I don't know what the hell to do with them.  I was just gonna snatch them up into a ponytail, with all the curls it looks like an elaborate bun, but then I can't put on a hat.  And its supposed to be cold tomorrow.  I just don't do under 30 weather with no hat.  Hell, most of the time if its 40 I still have a hat.  Might not be on all the time, but it'll be stashed in my bag somewhere...

Jump on it in the morning and ride it til the night...

...wanna give you real jewelry so when it hits the light, bitches will momentarily lose their sight.  She said, "I know what boys like, I know what they want, they want to sex me, they think I'm sexy.  I know what boys like, boys like me."

Just a little trip back in hip hop time when I actually liked Jay-Z.  This is going to be another one of those random post that I do from time to time.  Bear with me...

 I recently realized that I've never slept with more than one man at a time.  Wait, I'm not sure how you took that, but what I mean is that if I'm sleeping with one man, I don't sleep with anyone else.  I guess you would say that I'm sexually exclusive.  I just couldn't see myself going back and forth between men.  Twins on the same night at the same time, now thats another dirtier story.  I don't expect my lovahs to be sexually exclusive, but I do expect them to be discreet and most importantly clean.  Dont you ever fucking come to my house smelling like some other woman or just as bad, you own funky ass.

I thought I lost my The Incredibles DVD.  I love that movie!  Shit, who am I kidding I love Pixar almost as much as I love Jim Henson and thats saying alot if you know how I feel about the Muppets.  Speaking of the Muppets, I just got The Muppets Take Manhattan on dvd!  How cool is that!  (ok maybe not that cool to you, but cool as shit to me! fuck you very much if you think I'm a dork.  But I'm pretty sure dorks don't have head game like I do...)

Speaking of head game (is it wrong to segue from Muppets to Blowjobs?) can I just say as a woman, that I actually do quite enjoy the power of giving a blowjob.  The feel of having something so vulnerable yet so hard in the palm of my hand.  Doing just the right thing to make him hiss and that extra swirl of the tongue that will having him calling out.  If you're a woman and you're thinking that its an act of submission, than sweetie, you really haven't been doing it right.  And to the maybe 3 straight guys that may be reading this, if you learned to really enjoy eating the puss, (that is if you already don't) you'd probably get a hell of a different reaction than if you just eat it cause you think its what she wants you to do it.  If you don't enjoy it, chances are you're partner won't enjoy it either.

Sorry I haven't been around the blog world lately, I've been off playing with a boy.  Well at least part of the time.  I've also been cleaning this sty I call an apartment, fine tuning my resume (I should start sending it out by Wednesday) and trying to groom Duke.  It took me about 4 hours just to give him a really good brushing.  Then I spent another hour using the undercoat rake.  Then I needed a break so the next day I got started with the clippers, and we were doing pretty good until I tried to cut him back left leg.  He didn't want me on that side.  So I was pretty tired and said I would try the next day.  But then it snowed.  And since we live on the corner and own the lot next door I had to shovel all of that shit and I think I pulled something.  So the haircut is incomplete.  He looks alot better, but my back is fucking killing me from the snow shoveling.  Then it had the fucking nerve to rain the next day and most of that fuck ass snow disappeared and today it was in the 60s!?!  Fucking weetodd weather, I blame it on the industrial revolution.  Fucked up weather, cancer and pollution.  What a great fucking time in history that was...

579

I grew up in house number 583, and two doors down there was a house for mentally challenged individuals.  Back when I was growing up, it was uncommon for someone to call them retards.  But I grew up on the block, and some of those people were there just as long, if not longer, than I was.  One of my favorites, well at least one of the most entertaining, was Rosemary.  Whooo was that broad sometimey.  One minute, she'd be all, "Hi my Friend!" the next, "I don't want to talk to you, you bore me."  

Rosemary was also a compulsive nose picker, so it was best not to shake her hand.  And of course for some reason she always wanted to shake hands.  I think I was about 7 when I finally told her that I wouldn't shake her hand cause I knew she picked her nose, I saw her do it.  It didn't stop her from picking her nose, or trying to shake peoples hands, but at least I tried.  Rosemary was also one of the first white people that knew.  They were kind of hard to come by in Bed Stuy in the late 70s early 80s...

Then there was Donald.  He was much more independent that most of the other residents of 529.  He worked part time and used to go to the same church as my aunt.   He actually was in the choir.  Donald was a nice guy, he once gave me a quarter when I didn't have enough change at the corner store.  I gave it back to him, but I never forgot that he helped me out.  

Another big influence on my childhood was Derrick.  He needed more help than most of the other residents which meant that he wasn't outside as much as the rest of the guys at 529.  But like Rosemary and Donald he lived there for a long time.  Derrick loved music and even when he wasn't able to come outside, you could hear him playing jazz in his room.  Derrick also loved my Dad, so that always made him special to me.  My Daddy was a big jazz collector and it wasn't uncommon for him to pick records up for Derrick too.  After my Dad passed, Derrick would still ask me where Clarence was, and I'd have to explain.  It broke my heart each and every time he asked.  But then he'd tell me a story about him and my Dad, he had a million of them and he'd somehow find a way to make me smile again...

Introducing PYT

You're probably thinking Pretty Young Thang, and he is that, but he is also quite light skinded or as my sister has put it, he's high yellow.  If you don't know what that means, good.  If you do and think thats wrong of me to say, fuck you.  I'm joking.   About the yellow thing, not about the fuck you thing.  

you know in real life, I absolutely can not stand when people say things like likedided, or lookdided, or skinded...

Anywho, I met PYT (he's the 22 year old if you've been following along) back in November.  I tagged along, as I'm wont to do, with Cousin T to a party.  Now, I must say that Cousin T knows my varied taste in men quite well.  She's just about the only woman that I would trust to pick out a man for me, cause she knows what interest me in terms of appearance.  We often point out dudes that we think the other will like, and we are hardly ever wrong.  So when we walked into the party and she saw where I was looking she chuckles and says, "I thought you'd like him, he works at my school."  First thing out of my mouth, "Is he legal?" 

There was some flirting and an almost double date that never happened.  Then a couple of months passed.  I ran into him again at a house party.  That was the same house party that I met Big Mr. Bad at.  Needless to say, nothing continued to happen with PYT.  Then came the party the week before last.  And there he was again.  About 6'1", thin, and the most amazing amount of heat coming off of his crotch.  (You see I have this theory about the amount of heat relating to the size of the male appendage.  Let just say that it seems to be true...)  What can I say, I'm a bit of a perv and proud of it.

We finally got around to exchanging numbers and he finally thinks to ask me how old I am.  Proudly 30 and not showing it, thank you very much!  "Really?! Well maybe you can teach me a few things and I can return the favor."  Boy do I hope so!  So far he's proven himself to be well mannered, adventurous, adorable and proof positive that my aforementioned theory may very well be true...

I Haven't Done One of These In Awhile

Polyvore time!

Showerworks...

I grew up in a brownstone.  A lovely gem of a house with stained glass windows, wainscoting, multiple fireplaces, built in bookcases, and my favorite thing - the huge bathroom on the third floor with the clawfoot tub.  I loved that tub.  It was soo deep that I used to be able to float in it as a kid.  Many a great naval battle was waged in that tub.  I had a flotilla of toy boats to play with.  Oh, and a rubber duck.  And a frog.  I loved that frog.  Anyway, bathtime was always a production for me.  And it was always fun.  

Sooo, when I moved into the new house a little over 8 years ago, to say I was disappointed with the bathroom was an understatement.  Sure the old bathroom was drafty, and the clawfoot didn't really have a shower (or a shower curtain for that matter.)  But it could all be forgiven soaking in that tub, burning something and reading a book on a Sunday afternoon.  I could escape into that bathroom for hours.  The new bathroom - can I just say that the tub doesn't even come up to my waist when I'm sitting in it.  

I try and make the most of it though.  That little ass bathroom is packed with color.  And bath products.  Hautechick was over here on Saturday.  She went into my bathroom for some shampoo and came out with; a hairdryer (why the hell I have a hair dryer when my hair has been locked for 8 years we'll never know), some eyelashes, facial loofahs, some shower gels, some lotions, some band-aids, a new toothbrush for her and one for the Artist, some toothpaste, and some conditioner.  I didn't have any shampoo.

At any given time, you can find at least 5 kinds of shower gel (the Lemon Sugar is one of my favorites Shay), at least one type of Dr. Bronner's Soap, and 3 kinds of facial cleanser in my bathroom.  Not to mention at least 5 kinds of lotion (some coordinating with the shower gels and always at least one kind of cocoa butter - I'm currently loving the body butter that Vaseline has come out with), 2 types of body butter, and 2 lip conditioners.  Bath and Body Works is having a sale, so I am currently stocked with mostly stuff from there.  For the winter I like the soap free body washes because my skin gets dry and I obviously am a SBCAA (Snarky Black Chick Against Ashiness)

And lets not talk about all the stuff that I have for my locks.  Whoever said that dreadlocks are low maintenance has obviously never met me...

ps - I love Dr. Bronner's Soaps!  It's a great thing to keep in your bathroom.  I use it to wash my locks, and my face and my body!  It can also be used in a pinch as toothpaste if you run out - I only suggest using the peppermint one for this purpose.  And you can always use the bottle for reading material if you're on the can!

Yeeeeeoooooouuuuuccchh!

I SLAMMED MY POINTER FINGER IN A FUCKING CAR DOOR!  And I was drunk enough that I didn't really feel it.  But it was gross looking.  So I cleaned it and slapped a bandaid on it.  I don't know, I've always had a thing for bandaids.  When I was little I used to sneak them out of the medicine cabinet and put them on myself.  In the morning, I used to take the off before Mommy or Daddy found them.  But of course they always did when the changed my sheets.  Anyway now my finger is starting to throb.  And its my right finger too!  I need that finger!  And that means I won't be able to change my polish for a while cause the gash is right under my nail.  At least it's good polish, Chanel.  I don't care what anyone says, that shit is worth the money.  Goes on smoother, dries a lil quicker, last a lil longer.  If you can afford it try it.  Shit, I got distracted!  What the fuck was this lil rant about again?  Oh yes, my fucking pointer finger and how I fucked it up.  I deserve some chocolate for my pain....

Re: New Template

Eh, I'll probably change it tomorrow...

My perfect job...

1. Voicing a character on the Muppets!  But since the Muppet Show is no longer on the air, I may have to settle for...
2. Voicing a character on Sesame Street!  le Sigh, if only Savion was still on there.
3. Being the person at the porno shoot that tells them, "Ewwww, are you fucking kidding me, that dude is gross!"  and "Can't we cover up the scar from her cheap breast implantation surgery?"  and "Sweetie, take 15 minutes and go get that finger nail fixed." and don't forget my favorite, "Cut!  Her tracks are showing!"
4. Running the TypHo estates in the Caribbean.  I call dibs!
5. Shopping.  
6. Being Lewis Hamilton's favorite midnight snack (in a lascivious not cannibalistic way)
7. Being Savion Glover's blunt roller
8. Being Gerard Butlers fluffer
9. Restoring old homes...

Hey, if you believe, you can achieve!  Right?  But just in case I'm pretty sure that I'm going back to school to become an interiors architect...

RE: The Hiatus

Sorry I was out finding myself!  Not much luck with that so please be on the lookout for a bad skinny bitch with locks.

Thank you!

PS - Sorry Harley!  I'm ok, and no I'm not on any new medication.  I read somewhere that I may need to increase my iodine intake, and since I'm allergic to fish, I've been trying to put more salt into my food (which is ok, since I never really used salt before!)  I've also been trying to snack more during the day on things like apples with peanut butter, and sharp cheese with cracker (mmmm, I'm getting the munchies!) and the weight seems to be staying on!

The Soapbox and the Slippery Slope!

All credit for the incredibly cool name of this post goes to my bro in law, The Artist, cause that was the name of his gallery exhibit that I went to see tonight.  I'm drunkish by the by, so blame any mistakes on Grey Goose and his slippery slope. 

Would you believe that I was doing my hair?  Yeah that sounds good, I've been doing my hair since Christmas eve.  Or how about I was playing with boys?  That sounds even better!  How about I won the lottery and was making arrangements to fly you all to Barbados?  Nah, don't believe that one cause I would hate to disappoint you all.  I'm a flake and thats all the explanation that you need.  Mind you, you all love me for my fickle ways so get over it and enjoy the story.  (I kid I kid!)

So I met a new guy and Hautey started calling me a Baby Cougar cause Young Buck was about 24.  Unfortunately Young Buck was a lil nutzo and went the way of the dinosaur, he disappeared and I can't really offer you an explanation.  Last Friday rolled around, and I was in the house, but I left my cell phone in my apartment (which is on the first floor) while I was watching tv in Mommy's room (which is on the third floor)   I came downstairs to get something (look away Daners cause you luv me! that should be legalized damn it! and yes Mommy knows I do it) and noticed that Young Buck had called twice no message.  So I call him back leave a message and make sure that I bring the phone upstairs with me.  Except, I stopped in Mommy's kitchen to get some Limeade and left the phone on the second floor.  By the time I noticed that the phone wasn't with me, Young Buck had left me a message that went a little something like this!  Hit it...

"Troub I'm sorry, I don't know where I went wrong but I haven't heard from you so I'm gonna assume that you don't want to deal with me anymore.  Which sucks cause I was really feeling you, you have such a great spirit and I was looking forward to spending time with you.  But I guess its not meant to be.  If I did something to offend you, please know that I didn't mean to offend you and I'm sorry.  Damn!  I was really hoping that this would work out.  But my phone is fucked up and I can't even see if you called or check my messages.  I'm sorry but I'm gonna try and call you from time to time to see if I still have a chance.  Take care, damn!"

Ooooooohkay, Young Bucks new name is Idjeet!  Cause we hadn't spoken for 3 days and the fucker gave up!  What kind of half assed cockamammy shit is that!?!  And I thought every one knew how to check their messages when they dont have their cell phone with them?  (Seriously if I have to explain how to check you messages when you dont have you cell phone you are too dumb to be cool with me.  I'm dead ass serious about this!)

So, the next night, I was supposed to go see the Rza with Hautey and the Artist, but Cousin T called me that afternoon to see if I wanted to go to a house party.  I hadn't see Cousin T since my birthday (and yall know I loooooooove me some Cousin T) and I when I brought the ticket to the show (it was only $10) I got the members of Wu Tang confused and later realized that the Rza hasn't had any new music out in a minute, and I felt like getting drunk as shit without paying more than $20, so I went to the alcohol heavy house party with Cousin T. 

What a great decision that was!  I wore some grey J Brand skinny jeans, my patent leather Coach boots and a t- shirt that said "Little Miss Bad".  I see this adorable guy that I think I saw at a BBQ that Cousin T invited me to earlier this year, and his dimples are calling my name.  Then in comes this illegal looking (could pass for 19) hottie that I've been digging for a minute that I met at yet another function that Cousin T invited me to (I checked, he's actually like 23.)  Illegal is acting, well he's actin like a 19 year old, flirting from afar, shooting me looks like I'm supposed to be chasing him or some shit.  And Dimples is like fuck that, can I be Big Mister Bad?

Needless to say, Dimples aka Big Mister Bad and I had our first date tonight.  It was kinda high pressure too cause I invited him to come with me to the Artist opening and all a good majority of the people that are important to me were there.  Including Mommy, Hautechick, the Artist, OtherMother, Mommy'sBuddy (that used to watch me and Hautechick afterschool when I was in the 2nd grade), PFunk (the Artist Cousin) and his girl Lovey (she is the sweetest thing you ever met!  Everyone who meets Lovey can't help but like her) plus a bunch of Hautey friends.

Ok, I want to just take a minute out to say the show rocked, my Bro-ham is a talented dude and his shit is hot!  And I also want to say hi to Hautey's girl I, who I've heard so much about and finally got to meet!  Hi I!  Thanks for reading my blog!  She's one of the few people that reads my blog that actually knows who I am!  Very cool!  

So OtherMother gives Big Mr. Bad a hug before she gives me one!  Then she whispers in my ear, "Oh I like him, he gives good hugs!"  Later she tells him that she wants to be a bridesmaid.  I was to busy choking to hear what Big Mr. Bad said next, but was later told that he said, "I'm glad, cause that means I've already got someone on my side."  I should point out that Hautechick was carrying her ginormous leather bag, and inside was some cans of Sophia Coppola's champagne and a bottle of rum.  I should also point out that when Mommy, OtherMother and Mommy'sBuddy get together, I call them the bottle killers.  

And in what might be deemed a first, Hautechick actually approved of my date!  "He's fucking adorable, I want to tickle him or something!"  She later called him an adorable cub, you know to my cougar, he's only 25.  She said the tickle him thing cause he is a big guy, and I think cause of the dimples.  He smiles alot, which I dig.  So after we left, we headed back to Brooklyn and picked up his Uncle (not too much older than him) and his girl and went to play pool.  I actually beat Big Mr. Bad one game and we were killing them when we played as a team.  Mostly cause he's pretty good (I think he threw the game so I could win, although I'm not terrible) and cause like I said, I'm not terrible.

We have another date tomorrow, we're supposed to go see a high school production of Othello (long story that I may tell if we actually go.)  I like this guy for the fact that he gives me butterflies when he kisses me, and he was nice to my Mommy and her drunk friends, and he let me beat him at pool, and the dimples are simply lovely (another thing that OtherMother told him!) 

Useless Complaint

So I'm awake and its all nice and quiet except for Duke's snoring and all of a sudden I hear this loud ass BEEEEEEEP!  Naturally, it scares the crap out of me and makes me realize that I have to pee.  It's my cell phone, apparently the battery needs to be charged.

Um, to cell phone engineers worldwide, can I ask a question; Wouldn't it make more sense to have the damn thing conserve energy when the phone is dying instead of beeping every 4 fucking minutes?  And why is it that the low battery alarm is louder than any of the other beeps and tones on my phone?  I won't hear the damn thing singing Back to Black at max volume in my Botkier bag, but the low battery alarm I always hear.  FIX THAT SHIT!  I guarantee that you'll make a shit load of money if you do.

Family Matters - My Buppy Cousin

I've got a cousin (yes another one) who is an ivy league grad (both undergrad and her masters).  She's a member of a pretty well known African American sorority known for the paper bag rule and high pitched noises.  And she's married to a man who is a grad of a well known Historically Black College for males.  Now, don't take her education to mean that she's not trifling.  She has two little girls who I love very dearly in part because they remind me of Hautechick and myself as children.  But sometimes I worry about those girls.

The oldest is a little bit of a snob and reverse racist.  She told a the one white girl in her ballet class that she couldn't play with her and her friends because she wasn't a minority.  Yeah, my 7 -at the time- year old cousin used the word minority.  When Hautey was a wee one, she told a little girl at the playground to tell her mother to wash her coat.  I think Mommy said Hautey was 4.  The youngest is a mini Trouble if evah there was!  She's had the "are you out of your damn mind?!" look down pact at 4 and isn't afraid to use it on one and all.  She also remind me of myself because her best friend is this adorable little white boy with red hair.  (do I need to remind you of my Bubba?)  And when her mother expressed concern at their relationship (you twit, the damn kids are in the first grade!) she told IvyLeague, "who are you to tell me who I can love?"

There are a couple of reasons that I worry about them.  First and foremost is that their mother sends them out of the house looking all kinds of wrong.  Ok, I understand that you never learned to do hair (my cornrows look like shit, but I can at least manage some two strand twist or a neat ponytail) but you make enough to have some one else do their hair.  And that means more than once a month.  And if you have a full set of Louis Vuitton luggage, why is it that you buy all of their clothes from Conway?  If you don't have Conway where you live, lets just says its cheap.  Polyester and rayon reign supreme and the construction is not what you would call study.  I used to buy toiletries from the one Downtown Brooklyn, but stopped after I saw a rat in there.  That was at least 5 or more years ago, but I think you all know how I feel about rats.  

Mommy used to help her out with the girls when their nanny quit, but IvyLeague insulted Mommy so that was the end of that.  Once she picked Eldest up from school and dropped her off at dance class.  When they get to the dance school, Mommy is helping Eldest get ready and she notices that she didn't eat her sandwich.  No wonder, it was Olive Loaf on black bread or some shit like that.  Eldest is 9, not 90.  So Mommy throws out the sandwich, their little secret, and goes to get Eldest something to eat.  She comes back with a turkey sandwich and finds Eldest is ready for class.  Leotard and tights full of holes.  Being the competent mother that she is, Mommy is embarrassed as hell.  She ask IvyLeague about it and she's all "Oh Eldest is an artist, she can't be concerned with perfect tights."  Yeah but you're her mom, shouldn't you be concerned with that shit?!

End Note - why the hell can't I ever remember that embarrassed has two r's?!?!?

Pic of the Day

One More Thing...

Did anyone else watch Jackie Chan's cartoon?  Anybody?  Anybody?  Ooooooook So anyway I forgot a couple of random things from the previous post and rather than edit decided to do an entirely new post!  Yay for you!  

-I was originally upset that Tyra kicked Heather off of ANTM but then I realized that it was probably the best thing that Tyra could have evah done for that girls career.  Cause lets be real, the winners aren't in Vogue or Harpers, they get a spread in fucking 17 magazine.  Shit I'd take a Lucky spread over 17.  And chickydee is gorgeous so I'm sure someone will pick her up AND get her a handler...

-Yay Elio!  (I luv that guy I think its the dimples)

- Did anyone else notice Coco with IceT on SVU last week?

- I'd make some real money if I had some porn links on this blog.  THERE ARE NO NAKED BLACK CHICKS, IN BOOTS, ON BOYS, ON DOGS OR OTHERWISE ON THIS BLOG!  

Thank you for the Birthday Wishes!

smooches!

my obsession with Walter continues

This is the dress I got for $69! (see below for the story)  And did anyone see The Game tonight - ok yesterday, cause when MedSchool aka Girl Melanie was knocking on Derwin's door to get the Little Black Boy picture, she was rocking my Diane von Furstenberg dress!  Owwwwww!