Friday, July 27, 2007

I couldn't resist

You know what grinds my gears?

No, seriously, she does. I mean, people criticize Paris Hilton for being famous for doing nothing, but I actually prefer that to any displays of "talent." Plus, though this should really surprise no one, when she got caught doing dirt, she essentially came out her face with, "Oh, dude, that so wasn't me. The nigger was driving."

You know what grinds my gears? That little boy on the Verizon FiOS commercial. I mean, not the little boy per se, but I just really can't support little kids approaching strangers in vans. What next? The dude in the trenchcoat with a bunch of lollipops? I let ya'll live with Dora the Explorer roaming the jungle while her mama was running hoes in the daylight hours, but this is just too much!

You know what grinds my gears? Dweebs. Nerds are sexy, geeks are necessary, but dweebs are just...scary. An example of a dweeb? ANYBODY that participates in the show "Who Wants to be a Superhero." For the past three days, I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, and vegged out. It was terrifying how emotional these people got over this. But it lost me when the sole black woman was big as a Buick and named Fat Momma. Her weakness is diet foods yall. Evidently her strength stems from diabetes. Don't talk to me.

You know what grinds my gears? White America. Normal regular white folks are fine. White America is outrageous. Granted, I have labeled Michael Vick as a dumb nigga for doing dumb nigga shit. HOWEVER, my issue with him is, regardless of what he may or may not have participated in, he allowed his name to be affiliated with some old bullshit. Everything else will come out at trial. But not for White America. "THAT WIDE NOSTRILED NIGGER DID IT! HANG THAT NIGGER!" If White America showed half the concern for young black kids that they did for the fucking whales and dogs, maybe we'd have more doctors, lawyers and techie moguls and fewer unruly athletes.

And that's what grinds my gears.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

The Call Out

"Now, black people don't like to talk about crazy niggas, because white people may be listening, but I'm afraid the secret might be out." (c) Huey Freeman

Face it people. Some folks in this world are niggas. Whether or not you choose to point the finger and vocalize the words, "You'se a nigga," is honestly a matter of personal choice. However, I'm willing to wager that even the late Coretta Scott King saw some stuff that made her say, albeit only mentally, "Look at this nigga here." But that's why I'm here: to say what you're thinking. Ladies and gentlmen, I present to you, "The Call Out."

One can't have a conversation pertaining to niggas without bringing up the illustrious four star nigga, PACMAN JONES. Being merely suspended for one season due to your 31 flavors of nonsense, ignorance and general tom-foolery was, in my opinion, a gift. You make millions of dollars - MILLIONS - yet you can't stay out of trouble? Your salary makes mine look like lunch money, but I still live my life in a way that has kept me out of trouble with the law. Switching license plates? Seriously? What's wrong with you? Plus, we got beef because I had to explain to "making it rain" meant to my older relatives. Thanks alot.

After reading the details of the indictment, MICHEAL VICK, you are a nigga. In the best case scenario, the "trusting the wrong people" defense no longer flies. How many celebrities before you have found themselves in some shit for allegedly "trusting the wrong people?" So in 2007, if you haven't realized the need to at least cover your ASSets, then nothing can be said for you. Worst case scenario, you were involved in some unspeakable shit. Beyond the deplorable act of dog fighting, you sanctioned (and participated in) killing dogs that did not have enough fight in them.

CAFE 1200 BREAKFAST PATRON, you are also a nigga. I understand that you may have been upset with the cost of the food and even the demeanor of the worker. However, the screaming, threats and stomping up and down the cafe are what earned you your title. Whatever happened to not patronizing the establishment, or, in extreme circumstances, filing a complaint with the management or BBB? Then again, maybe that's too much work for niggas. Under normal circumstances, I would dismiss this as a "nigga moment," but everything about you said that this is an everyday occurrence for you. The flip flops and capris also worked against you.

UNNECESSARILY ANGRY FELLOW TRAIN PASSENGER, when the trains are behind, the trains get crowded. And lord know folks will talk sporty, sometimes mandating a response in kind. Unfortunately, we couldn't hear the other person. All we could hear was you. Every word, including the vaguely ominous, "I'll see you again." Who in the fuck are you? Michael Corleone? Let it go.

I'd be remiss if I neglected adding 50 CENT at least as an honorable mention. I've got a curious relationship with 50. Now granted, i think he's lyrical content is pretty garbage, I find the things that come out of his mouth astounding. He is, and I quote, "[s]mart enough not to overwhelm people with information." [Read full article here.] Dude, you are a muthafuckin' RHODES SCHOLAR at that shit. And though I'm not jumping on the bandwagon with everybody else saying, "FIDDY SAYIN' YOU SHOULDN'T READ," I really don't think he thought about what he said about Nas before saying it at all. You've gotta appreciate a person who is not afraid to say what's on his mind. But must everything that is on his mind be so damned scary?

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Come listen to my story 'bout a girl named Breez

So I jacked this post, from a chick who jacked this post from somebody else. It seemed fun, and I don't feel like coming up with thought provoking topics.

My ex is still.....

not even a factor in how we live our lives.

I am listening to...

"Romantic" by Goapele

Maybe I should...

color my hair

I love...

being loved. Not being "in" love, but having people who see past the facade, look my frailties square in the face and love me anyway...yeah, that's what's up.

My best friends are....

first and foremost, my sisters. After that, my cousin Amber. I am so blessed to have family members that I would want to befriend, even if we weren't related. In terms of old friends, I have Chasity and Tammelle: we go back like afros and fist picks. And for newer friends, there's Michelle. These are TRUE friends. It pays to keep your circle small people. And of course, Ro is definitely in the running.

I don't understand....


I lost my respect for....

individuals who don't care enough to have respect for themselves. Respect is a jewel, and I refuse to waste it on those who have no interest in it.

I hate....

that juicy-mouthed feeling one gets right before they barf.

The meaning of my screen name is...

there are two related to this page: Breez and Black Mamba. Think Bruce Banner/Incredible Hulk. Once you read a post, you can which alter-ego wrote it.

Love is...

never having to say you're sorry; yet being humble enough to say it anyway.

Somewhere, someone is...

thinking sweet thoughts about me.

I will always....

cherish my life and the blessings that it brings.

Forever seems.....

like just the right amount of time.

I never want to lose......

my memories and my family; possessions come and go.

My mobile phone is.....

to Breez as the Bat Phone is to Bruce Wayne.

When I wake up in the morning...

I realize how blessed I am.

I get annoyed at.....

complacent individuals. It bothers you? Do something!
Parties are....

essential outlets.

My pet(s)....

don't exist. I don't think it's in good "mommie form" to count one's children as pets.

Kisses are....


Today I......

am beautiful.

I really wish i could......

assist my father financially.

I want to see.....

Venice with Ro.

I'm afraid of......

my children being without me. I know how hard it is to make it without a mother, and the mere thought of them ever having to go through that makes me incredibly sad.

I think I am.....

constantly evolving

Tomorrow will be...

a fresh opportunity.

In 5 years I...

want to know what it's like to be supremely happy.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Grindicus Gearius

You know what grinds my gears? The BET game show "Take the Cake." There was a point in time where I REALLY liked Toccara Jones. She was representing for the big girls. She was beautiful, she was vivacious. Hell, plenty of us could relate to her. Then she opened her damn mouth. . .and I don't think it ever closed. And stupid words were always falling out of it. I found myself saying, on more than one occasion, "Sister, please just sit there and look pretty." (Though I MUST find out where she gets her strapless bras. MAGNIFICENT!) The game show couples her with the equally irritating Joe Clair. Should a television show incite the sudden desire to commit seppuku? I think not.

You know what grinds my gears? Natalie from "Monk." It's not about her being better or worse...She's just not Sharonna. But what FURTHER grinds my gears is the fact that there was full out beef on IMDB proclaiming "Bitty [Sharronna] is GONE." There was about two pages of back and forth. People will argue over ANYTHING. On the same vein. . .

You know what grinds my gears? Forum pricks. Well, they don't so much grind my gears as puzzle me. You disagree with me. Okay. We can't move on from this. This past week, Smashing Pumpkins held a 3.5 hour concert at the 9:30 club. The Post all but called it a stinker. Another two pages of forum pricks commiserating, and the bored engaging them. Give it a rest.

You know what grinds my gears? Train spreaders. This is not your chartered transportation service. It's PUBLIC transportation. Meaning any soul with $1.35 can ride this ho. Pick up your shit and move the hell over. Now I maintain, if you're fat, your seat is safe as far as I'm concerned, because the two of us sitting together can't do anything but make each other mad. Otherwise, push the hell over, because my behind needs every centimeter of my seat, and I can give less than a damn that you don't feel like holding your Dukes of Hazard lunch box.

You know what grinds my gears? Having to admit that the Spice Girls look FABULOUS! Yes, Posh could use a sandwich, and Ginger has always looked a tad aged, but time has done Sporty well. And for any of you who are judging me for referring to them by their Spice names, lighten the hell up! My sisters and friends used to give people we knew unflattering spice names. There was Stinky Spice, Greedy Spice, Moocher Spice, Old Spice (this lecherous dude that was just a SMIDGE too long in the tooth to roll with my crew. Ahhh the good old days.

You know what grinds my gears? Alli weight loss pills. You know you essentially shit on yourself right? I mean, yeah, you're skinny, but you shit oil in public. Diiiiiiidn't really think that one out, did you?

And that's what grinds my gears.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

The Topic That Launched a Thousand Posts

Of course I'm referring to the recent "funeral" with respect to the word "nigga." As I knew the topic would be discussed ad nauseum, I initially decided to leave this topic alone. Obviously, I couldn't resist.

I sincerely understand the desire to abolish any and all derivatives of the word "nigger." It was born of pain and venomous hatred. I don't believe someone my age can fully appreciate the power this word once held. We have not endured the same brand of racism that our forefathers did. Bigotry of that sort, though it does still exist, is decried as extreme and unacceptable behavior. Many of those individuals (and their offspring) believe that we need this word to be abolished, fully extinguishing its power so that we can heal and move on as a people.

However, there exists another school of thought. Some believe, transforming it's pronunciation and adopting the word as our own is also a means of depleting the strength of that word. It's a classic defense mechanism. By taking it, it removes the sting when someone else uses it.

I don't typically use the word. Well, that is to say, it's not a part of my daily lexicon. However, there are people in this world that I belive are niggas. Believe me, I am in no way being endearing when I use this term. Bobby Cutts is the perfect example of who I would put in this category. I also admit that I have occasionally used it for signifying purposes. I didn't grow up in a family that recognized themselves as such, so it's not something I would use to refer to my man, or my children.

As far as it being "buried," it's little more to me than a symbolic act from a symbolic organization. When was the last time the NAACP effected earth shattering change? (Beware the first person to post something re: Don Imus will be hunted down and flogged in the streets.) Can I also say that I find the National Association for the Advancement of COLORED People burying the word "nigga" ironic. If a white person used the term colored, we'd look at them like they asked our mama, "What that thang smell like?" Or is "colored" a word that we can use, but white people can't? And if that's the case, what makes "nigga" different? Just asking.

But honestly, they want to bury the word? Fine. Can you also bury public school systems that provide substandard, outdated books to inner city schools, while keeping public schools in more affluent areas up to par? How about burying the myth that most of our black men are in jail? Bury the judicial system that imposes harsher prison terms on African Americans than their white counterparts for committing the same crimes. Or if that's too much, would you simply bury the notion that something is "wrong" with our hair? Maybe you could start by getting Al Sharpton to step away from the Dark N Lovely? Just a thought. Bury the complacency that comes with expecting black men to cheat and/or abandon their families, black women to be Sapphires and hoochies and black children to be unruly and disrespectful.

My point is, if they focused more on burying the REAL issues that make people FEEL like niggas, a symbolic burial might not be necessary. Because we could stand up as black people.

Thursday, July 05, 2007


I can't sleep at night. I haven' t gotten a thorough night's sleep in well over a month. It's affecting everything. My thought processes, my moods, my reactions.

I feel like I'm drowning. Unfortunately, since I've always swam to safety before, nobody's asking if I need a life preserver. It's interesting. There hasn't been a day, over the last three weeks, that I haven't cried. Nobody seems to notice; or have any interest.

July 14 would have been my mother's 56th birthday. It's also the day that my babies are going to Louisiana. Despite the fact that it will afford me some much needed rest, it only reminds me of how alone I am.

I'm just dealing with a lot of bad feelings today.

I'm really hoping to feel better soon.

Monday, July 02, 2007

The good, the bad, and the unfunny

I believe it is a well documented fact that I love to be entertained. What I love to do most, is laugh. I don't mind if it's a little left of center, or offensive, if it's funny, dammit, I'm laughing. This is why I decided to give "Norbit" half a chance. I knew going in that I would be watching at my own peril. But I figured, hell, it's Eddie Murphy. Certainly I would get, at a minimum, four cheap belly laughs. Wrong. I have never watched a comedy where I didn't laugh once. Not once. I think one scene elicited a low chuckle, but that was it. It was bad, people. I know that there are some who, like myself, have to witness personally. However, once you witness the atrocity, remember that you were warned.

I read an article today, calling out Michael Jordan for his respectfully declining to put his voice or likeness behind any cause that does not generate a dollar for him. I believe my brother detailed in a blog post that sometimes, your heroes just aren't who they thought they were. Can we not accept the fact that Micheal Jordan is a talented athlete, who just may be a douchebag? Can we not accept the fact that Bill Cosby, was right about "us" needing to do more with our kids, despite being a douchebag? Can we not accept that Oprah is a hell of a networker, but she too, just might be a douchebag? (I have a very limited amount of respect for Oprah. Honestly, if you're an Oprah groupie, save your breath. I don't like her, and whatever Oprah expertise you've gained from watching her for an hour a day and subscribing to her crap ass magazine is going to change my POV. Use that energy to save the whales or something.)

For those of you looking for something new to laugh at, allow me to recommend "Lil' Bush." I believe that even the staunchest of Bush supporters would find this funny. I won't even get into Bush wearing a shirt that said, "Lil Tony Lil Toni Lil Tone!" I can't say that I'm a weekly viewer, but it definitely satiated my need for a quick laugh. Of course, it could have just been due to the fact that "Norbit" set the bar so low. NARNIA! LMFAO!

My children have spent the majority of their lives around a very limited variety of people. For them, hearing a person speaking another language was a big event. Therefore, moving to Rockville, Maryland has been a bit of a switch for them, since so many people here speak Spanish. My daughter has decided to make up her own version of Spanish, which consists of jibberish, occasionally punctuated with a legitimate Spanish word (most often something food related, e.g. "jibberish, jibberish, jibberish, TORTILLA!!") This is an abomination, yet I can't stop myself from laughing.

So last week, I watched "The Black People Awards" (c. In Living Color"). My brief commentary. I loved the tributes. (It was hard to spot a dry eye during the Gerald Levert tribute.) I'm sure that there are several music purists out there, who don't like remakes and enjoy nothing more than to hear the original belt out their hit song. However, I require said original to belt out said song WELL. Jennifer Holliday was so determined to prove that she was "better" than Jennifer Hudson (because, let's face it that "acceptance" speech proved that J. Hud can be an ungracious jackass), that she forgot to not sound like some HOT GAHBAGE! I mean, Hudson kind of fell back and was like, "Let me let this heffa sing for her farina money." Was she getting paid per grunt? Not celebrated.

In further Mo'nique news, the "Charm School" finale aired last night. Maybe I'm PMSing, but it was very emotional. I was glad to see that my girl won.

So my kids and I play this game called "Fart touch." Simple rules: if you fart, you stealthily pass on the "fart touch" to someone before they can scream "stamp out infinity." CLEARLY, not something I want to tell my dad, as he banned the game when I was 12. Last night, he called me, and as usual, we were having a two hour gab fest. All of a sudden, I hear my kid scream, "MAMA!! SAY STAMP OUT INFINITY! SAY STAMP OUT INIFINITY!!!" Before I have time to react, my daughter taps me on the arm and screams, "TOO LATE! SHE'S GOT THE FART TOUCH, SHE'S GOT THE FART TOUCH!" My family is so going to have my kids removed from my custody.