The things you think, but won't say. . .or at least I haven't heard you

Ok, a while back, I read that Denzel and his wife were going splitsville. Now, I know folks act like he's the Messiah of Hollywood, but on the real, he's just a man. A talented man, but a man nonetheless. A man that may well have cheated on his wife, or whatever else they say contributed to the alleged marital dischord. A man that, (after I have waited a respectable amount of time) will need an ample bosom of comfort and a homecooked meal. Just putting it out there. Denzel, if you need some jambalaya, I got you.

Sunglasses indoors: you look STEWPID. I don't mean slightly tinted frames. I mean the 1985 "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night" shades. Particularly if they are white. That is the most ridiculous looking thing ever. Is there some obscure law that says that you must look like dog vomit to wear those things? *shudder*

I had a long discussion yesterday regarding the Nuva-ring. This handy dandy contraption is a ring that you vaginally insert and keep for a month. I'm going to repeat this, because I don't think you heard me: you insert and leave a foreign object in your vagina for a MONTH. What kind of funky crap is that? In the ads, there's this greenish aura-type ring that encircles the woman's midsection. I don't know how it is where y'all are from, but green auras never meant anything positive as far as I remember. That's just GROSS. *double shudder*

This is the year of the geriatric white woman. It's not enough that Sharon Stone, on the cusp of 50, is getting naked again; Kim Catrall is continuously perpetrating as though she is sexy (doesn't she look like she belongs in an ad for some type of disease? Herpes or melanoma or something. Plus that Family Guy spoof where the guy tried to have sex with her and she shattered? Priceless!); and when I go to re-up my MAC stash, I've got to gaze upon Catherine Denueve's Crypt Keeper-like visage when I'm paying. Ew. Does Sharon Stone look great for her age? Yes, however, when you have to start using that term, "for her age", that means it's time to stop flashing the old cooch on the big screen. Besides, we all know that it's the Erector Set and Crayola people keeping her together when all is said and done.

Once in a blue moon, I'll catch this show called "The Soup." (Didn't it used to be "Talk Soup" or something? Ah well.) I always manage to find a little snippet of entertainment when I happen upon this show. One in particular was when Tyra Banks was playing stripper for a day or whatever, then punked out because parading her scantily clad body around was too humiliating. She got all worked up, crying, blah, blah, blah. They immediately cut to a clip of her in her underwear on the VS catwalk. Tyra, I love you to pieces, but they got you hon!

Shameless Neglect

I feel as though I haven't been here in forever. In actuality, it hasn't been that long. But I used to blog every day. No, I haven't lost my taste for it. Just haven't had much to say. Well, that, and I've been busy. Plus, well, Imma just put it out there. PMS ain't no joke. To anyone that believes it's a figment of the female imagination, go fuck yourself. I swear my uterus plots some sort of revolution. If I lay really still I can hear it: "ATTICA! ATTICA!! ATTICA!!!"

I decided that though I didn't feel like being bothered with relaxers, spending almost $200 every few weeks for braids was too much of a hassle as well. So, I have no hair. Well, I'm not smack bald, all the extra is gone. I am really digging this 7 minute hair care thing. Now of course, I've had to start wearing earrings and I wear makeup more often. However, I can't really complain. It only adds about 5 more minutes to the ritual (providing I haven't lost my lipliner for the 1000th time). The added plus is that other people dig it too. My boss went on about it so much, I thought she was having a private summer.

This weekend I brought myself to Philly with two of my homegirls. We had a ball. On the real though, my homie...my ghetto soul twin...SHE TOOK ME TO GENO'S MAN!!! Not only do those bitches serve steak-ums, but they serve steak-ums with ATTITUDE. FUCK YOU GENOS!! FUCK YOUR STEAK-UMS, FUCK YOUR CHEEZ WHIZ, FUCK YOUR FUNKY LITTLE KETCHUP DISPENSER. On top of that, they had a sign in their window that said, "This is America, when ordering SPEAK ENGLISH." You greasy backed motherfucker, please do not misinterpret your loud garbled speech as english. I can look at you and tell that you're 2nd generation American at BEST, so don't try and pull that American bullshit. However, food debacle aside, we had a ball. My friend showed us around her alma mater and I bought a couple of books for the collection.

Saturday night, I went to a club and the music was BANGING. Who was the DJ? None other than ?uestlove. From what I understand, that's pretty common for that spot, but it ain't common for me. My cuz and I were elated. I was so busy dancing, I didn't finish my second drink. I came out of my shoes in that joint man.

Sunday afternoon, the soul twin had to depart, leaving my cuz and I to decide what to do next. We found out that there was a concert that night. Yes, ya girl saw Little Brother, AGAIN. This time I was the one having a private summer. The concert was electric. I had even more fun than the last time I saw them because venue was SO much better than Nation. They're music is so hot and their stage presence so magnetic, I don't see how more people aren't up on them. Their energy totally eclipsed that of the main event. . .

. . .Dilated Peoples. To call them lackluster would be a compliment. The phrase that keeps jumping to mind is "wiggety wiggety wack". I sort of remember they did some song or another with Kanye and so I listened to their CD. They are so devoid of soul it is ridiculous. (I did not buy the aforementioned CD, and if I had, I would have been at the concert with my receipt demanding my money back.) Not only did the opening act get more love than them, but their DJ (Baboon) seemed to generate more crowd attention as well. Even the people that were there to see them seemed disappointed. However, LB was more than worth it, and we inevitably left the concert early.

I had a small dinner party at my home a couple of weeks ago and among my guests not one, but two love connections were made. I'm not knocking anybody's love hustle, but damn. Can a sister get a brother to take her out for a two piece at Popeye's or SOMETHING?

So I guess you guys are officially caught up with the little tid bits of my life. Other than that, nothing else has reall changed. I'm still waging my battle against idiocy, plucking off one dumbass at a time and searching for the perfect pair of sneakers. Live long and prosper.

You know it's hard out here. . .

I think I may very well be the ONLY person that was not destroyed when I heard the song from "Hustle and Flow" was picked as best song or whatever they call it at the Oscars. White folks LOVE to see us engaged in coonery, so I knew that as sure as the sun shone, this would be picked. So putting our feelings aside, let's say it is hard out here for a pimp. I'm willing to wager there are things in this world that are equally as hard, if not harder. So I present you with my "It's hard out here for a. . ." list of 2006.

1. It's hard out here for Aretha Franklin's foundation garment architect. I think Aretha wears a 78 ZZ. I will not even hazard a guess at what her girdle is made of, but I'm willing to wager that they also use it at NASA. The fact that she always wants to wear something spaghetti strappy, shiny and tight defies all things reasonable and holy. She is the goddess, queen and high priestess of soul. However, when all is said and done, as the extra in Deuce Bigelow so eloquently put it, "that's a HUUUUUUGE bitch!"

2. It's hard out here for Tracey Morgan. Is he ever going to play a character that is not ambiguously gay or borderline retarded? I mean really. He seems to incapable of doing anything other than toggling between lipgloss and lunacy. He has put himself in line for being the recipient of my pillowcase full of bricks award along with. . .

3. It's hard out here for the Wayans family's Minister of Negrocity. Everytime we THINK they've outcooned themselves, they manage to serve society at large up with another heaping helping of negroliciousness. Their latest is a movie called "Little Man". I'm convinced that one of their family members does nothing but brainstorm ignant shit. (I'm taking bets that he was consulted for "Hustle & Flow".) It's kind of sad. They coulda been contenders.

4. It's hard out here for Essence magazine readers. I bought a recent issue to see what Lauryn Hill's crazy ass had to say (save your money) and I made the mistake of reading further. This magazine that is meant to tap into the mind of black women had a full page of "recommended" clothes, none of which were less than $200.00. WTF. Then, an article that gave dating "tips" included a woman's story of how her teenage daughter almost caught her giving her internet "boyfriend" a naked show and another woman's story about going for a ride with a man she met at a gas station because he had a nice car. Are you fucking kidding me?

5. It's hard out here for whoever gets in my way at DSW. I have a well documented shoe addiction. You've been warned. If you get in my way, that's your ass. I'll give you a seat on the bus, but if you get your old ass between me and a pair of discount wedge sandals, that's your ass. It's cruel, but we all have our flaws.

6. It's hard out here for an old school ho. What with all the "regular" girls giving it up like it's gonna spontaneously combust, I would have to imagine that the old ho stroll ain't like it used to be. If it has cut into their profits, I think they should form a coalition like the RIAA has done to protest downloading.

7. It's hard out here for a female porn star. Whenever people discuss about how female porn stars make more than male porn stars, I really feel NO sympathy. You guys have Midori, Crystal Knight, Cherokee, Jenna Jameson (if you like white chicks), and a host of other attractive women. Women have who? Mr. Marcus and Ron Jeremy. Ron Fucking Jeremy. There are maybe 2 attractive guys in porn. The rest look like prison/trailer park rejects. Stop the madness.

8. It's hard out here for a single chick. A week ago, a dude asked me for $5.00. After I told him no, he asked me for my phone number. I shit you NOT. It took all my strength not to scream, "How da HELL you gon' call me fool?" I don't know what would have pissed me off more: if he would have asked me for the 50 cents to call me from a pay phone, or if he would have pulled out a cellie. What makes this sad? It was the first time I'd been asked out in over a week. A lot of the single women that I know in the area haven't had much better luck than I. Scary.