Lady Pyro

You are the Goddess of Fire. You become very
passionate about everything and love to make
your ideas heard. Sometimes you get a little
self centered and you just need to relax and
relize that despite what you might think, you
are not the center of the universe. You can
sometimes appear to be a spoiled brat but
you're really not, you just eant people to
listen to you. You love to be right and you're
very intense and passionate about everything,
and this does not exclude love. When you're in
love you feel like the owrld is smiling at you
and you get taken over by passion. You need a
guy that can deal with your intensity and who
loves you for being completely real. People
love your passion but can get tired with it.
Don't let this discourage you and keep on being
real. Chances are you have a close group of
friends. All i would say is let other people
have a chance to voice their opinions, and just
keep being passionately real.


What are you goddess of?
brought to you by Quizilla


I took one of those crazy quizzes, and it told me that I am a fire goddess. I hate to admit it...but I kind of like that notion.

Worth a thousand words

It's no secret that I'm not a fan of pictures. They give me the heebie jeebies. The whole idea of "pause, smile, flash" does something to me. I think it's because I feel like that person in the picture isn't "me". It's my Cheshire representative.

I typically don't have an issue with candid shots. Those tend to better represent who I be. My shiny faced, beady eyed self, hehehe.

However, I recently saw a candid picture of myself. My eyes are closed and I'm singing. There's a calm look on my face...and it scares the crap out of me. Because I don't know if that person is me either.

But I'd like to think that one day, I'll be some variation of that person.

World Tour

I had a beautiful time with some dynamic folks in New York City this past weekend. I'm a southern guhl to the core and there's nothing like our hospitality, but I can definitely say that the people I was with made sure I felt welcomed. Good times were had by all.

This was my first vacation without my children since . . . well, since I've had children. It is incredibly easy to lose "yourself" once you have kids. I must admit that I enjoyed hanging out without having to worry about working the next day or having to pick the kids up from the sitter. It's a beautiful thing.

However, now I'm hooked. I can't WAIT until my next vacation. Chicago is my next stop. July 1-4. I can't wait.

In September, the plan is to head to the DC/Maryland area and scout areas. I'm serious about getting the hell up out of New Orleans. This place is killing me. I enjoyed New York, but it's a smidge too busy for me. I wouldn't mind being in relatively close proximity though. It's a hell of a place to visit.

I'll just have to see how my plans fall into place.

Impetuous

I'm 28 years old and I still don't think things through totally. When there are choices to be made, I will invariably choose wrong - I believe I've said that before. If I haven't, I'm stating it for the record now. My goal now is to work on that flaw because it's really not attractive at all. This flaw affects all aspects of my life, including friendships.

My life is really at a standstill and I have a slew of decisions to make. Every single aspect of my personal life is in upheaval and I really don't know what my next step should be. Everybody seems to be under the impression that I am strong enough to handle the things that are going on with me, but they're mistaken. I'm not. If I were, I wouldn't be having the problems I have now. I have spent my entire life trying to make everybody happy. The problem with that is, when you attempt to do that, you make everyone unhappy.

There's a part of me that believes that the right decisions are in my heart and it's just a matter of implementing them, but until I figure out what those decisions are, I'm going to be running in circles. I guess this is just turning out to be a rough day, but I guess I've had rougher, so I'm sure I'll make it through.

The Act of Selling and Redeeming Wolf Tickets

The best and worst thing about me is my big mouth. I am truly not one of those people that make an issue out of everything, but once something has become an issue for me, things can get ugly. Even deeper than that, is the overwhelming desire to follow up my words with actions. Allow me to explain.

On my second day of kindergarten, I got into a fight. This girl named Tiffany and I went to the same baby sitter and she HATED me. Evidently, to her, I seemed like the chick to fool with, so she just walked up to me on the yard and shoved me. Given the fact that I already had the reputation for being a fighter, and got in trouble on the FIRST day of school for catching the bus (when I had a ride and NO idea where I was going), my mother sent me off with the instructions to "not act a fool" that day. So I told her to leave me alone and walked on. She started pitching rocks at me and I made a few disparaging remarks about her appearance so she came at me. I told her "If you come over here, I'm gonna bite the devil out of you." Evidently that gave her an idea so she ran up and bit my arm. Unfortunately for her, that put her face in an extremely vulnerable position. I put a pit bull lock on her cheek and wouldn't let go. For some reason, the teachers that didn't witness her push and throw rocks at me did catch me trying to rip her face off. Maybe it was the screams that clued them in. In any event, I got in trouble that day at school, but my sitter and my family, who knew of my woes with Tiff, found the whole thing hilarious. I had EXCELLENT role models. I also had few, if any, problems with Tiffany or anybody else for the rest of the year.

Fast forward to fourth grade. By then, my cussing skills were sharp as a suit at the Players' Ball. Even my older brother was impressed. About this time, I also developed this bold rebellion that defied reason, considering my parents never hesitated to put their feet in my ass. For some reason, my fourth grade teacher, Ms. Gourrier, plucked my nerves. I had been threatening to curse her out for weeks and of course, none of the kids believed I would do it. On this particular day, the class was rowdy and she decided that she would take our PE time from us. For some inexplicable reason, I decided that was the time to make good on my threat. The PLAN was, while all the other kids were protesting, I would make my move - hopefully being drowned out by the cacophony, yet being heard by my seat mates and keeping my word. The words "BITCH you must be out of your fucking mind" came out so quickly, I barely had the chance to realize that my utterance of the word "bitch" silenced the room. She turned nine shades of purple and asked, "What did you just say to me?" At that point, it was done and I couldn't back down. I knew I was in trouble either way, so I figured I'd go out in a blaze of glory. Though part of my brain was telling me to shut the fuck up, the part that ruled my mouth made me say, "I know damn well you heard me." She knew that my mother didn't play that, so she called her at work. I wasn't suspended, but the moment I got home, my parents set up a tag team ass whipping extravaganza. Of course, it didn't stop me permanently, but it did earn my teacher about two weeks of peace from me.

My family thought that as I matured, my mouth would do the same, and it did - to a point. It took a lot to set me off, but once I did get set off, shit went full throttle. I was a new mother, on a family trip to AstroWorld. I did, and do, not play when it comes to the well being of my child and woe to the person that threatens it. Ty was only about 4 months old. Some bad ass kid jumped over his stroller, and I told him to keep his ass away from me. He turned around and made some reference to getting his mother. My response was "Call your damn mama!" Within five minutes, I was face to face with one of the biggest women I had ever seen in all my days. Common sense told me to get the hell out of there, but something else said "If you don't stand up for yourself and your child, who will?" It was bullshit though. Part of it was for my child, but the other part was for my big ass ego. What's funny though, is the fact that if that woman would have gotten a-hold of me, standing probably would have been a distant memory. I stood my ground and went word for word with her. She told me "I don't know who in the hell you think you are talking to my damned child like that. You fucked with the wrong one." To which I replied, "Maybe if you CONTROLLED your child, we wouldn't even be having this conversation, so I'll do you a favor. . . AFTER I beat your ass, I'm gonna beat his ass so that he remembers not to act a fool and jump over strollers." I said it, but the whole time I was talking, I was thinking, "This behemoth is going to grind me into powder." I surveyed the area for something to crack her dome with and was coming up with nada. Evidently, it got to be too much for some of the other folks, because security showed up and escorted both of our parties to our cars. That was a lucky day because that big bitch was going to make mincemeat out of me.

I'm sure that I referred to the fact that one of the reasons behind my divorce was physical abuse. Once I left my ex, I told him "you've gotten your last free lick off me." I planned for there to be some consequences and repercussions. After months of him harassing and threatening me, things came to a head in June of 2002. We were having a disagreement in a hallway outside of my pregnant cousin's apartment. He was angry because I would not let him in. We were going back and forth when out the blue, he popped the shit out of me. He was cocking back to hit me again and the words "last free lick" popped into my head. I then proceeded to execute one of the best rabbit punches of all my life. I must say, I dazed the hell out of his ass. He shook a little bit and tried to hit me again. I was feeling cocky, so I drew back, swung and damn near took his jaw off. Unfortunately, the next thing I remember is catching a pool of blood in my hand. It turns out the motherfucker hit me with a key ring and damn near broke my nose. What a beyotch. But what can I say. I just told him it was his last free lick. . . I didn't say I would whip his ass. I can say that was the last time he ever put his hands on me.

If I believed in reincarnation

I would believe that I was a man in a past life. Here's why:

I can not bring myself to put TP on an empty roll. It doesn't even occur to me to do it. I have NOOOO desire to do it. The same goes for refilling ice cube trays. Two simple tasks that I hate to the core of my being.

Were it not for motherhood, I'd probably live off of ramen, hot wings, pizza and alcohol.

I find toilet humor INGENIOUS!

In my opinion, the Lifetime channel and the Lifetime Movie Network, aka Uber-Estrogen Entertainment, are abominations before the gods of television. Their creators should be stoned.

The mere thought of dishwashing brings tears to my eyes, so I kind of . . . well, I don't.

I forget shit. As in, EVERYTHING.

I shamelessly eyeball men - to the point that they feel cheap and used. AND I LOVE IT!

I think that my boobs are awesome! After I had my first kid, I used to go into the bathroom and look at my "gifts".

I think that going to sporting events and screaming to the point of elevating my blood pressure, at people who will have no impact on my life whatsoever is the sign of an awesome evening.

After sex, well, back when I actually used to have sex, I want a snack, maybe a drink and some silence. Hate to be rude, but I really don't want to know what you're thinking or share what I'm thinking. Especially if I found the act sub par.

Though I am an adult, I could play video games for HOURS.

I will pull a wedgie in public. Granted, it has to be an extreme wedgie, but be forewarned, it WILL be removed.

If I am pushed to fight, my logic will be overshadowed by my ego and I will plunge headfirst into an ass whipping, retaining the satisfaction that I defended my honor, and laugh about my swollen lip.

I like watching a good fight.

I believe that shooting and explosions enhance movies.

Taking things apart that I have no clue how to fix is my idea of a good time. I love the challenge it presents.

I will say "Ok, you're right" if it will get you to shut the fuck up.

Touching my remote is high treason.

Porn . . . PLEASE BELIEVE ME!

Touching the settings on my car stereo are grounds for being dismissed from my car.

If I ask a direct question, and the response consists of more than five words, I stop listening.

The greatest proof is the fact that I think that these qualities are not only normal, but admirable. So deal with it or bite me.

Haiku to a Dumbass

You're back in the world
Do you now cherish freedom?
Or stuck on dumb shit?

Summertiiiiiiiiime, and the livin's easy

UNLESS you are an open toed shoe. You could be subjected to some of the most heinous environments known to man, er, woman. Summertime is right around the corner. Here in good old New Orleans, temperatures are already in the mid to upper 70s. There's something about summer that makes a certain type of woman turn crazier than a shithouse rat when it comes to matters of fashion. So, in the spirit of sisterhood, I will pass on a few helpful hints. The thinking woman will find the reasoning behind them is self-explanatory. If I can reach one, it will have been well worth it.

If your back resembles a bursted pack of biscuits, halter tops are not for you.

Don't let the heat overrule common sense. A few no no combinations: miniskirt/chicken legs, v-neck/flat chest, puffy feet/strappy shoes - you get the picture.

BUY YOUR SHOE SIZE DAMMIT! You know who you are.

To wear lipgloss is cute - wearing lipliner is divine. Stop walking around like you've been attacked by a wild pork chop.

Ass crack is NOT the new pink.

If you have feet like Tyrone Biggums, do not wear open toe shoes until you've sought medical care and have had at least 3 pedicures.

Bullet wounds aren't the new pink either.

I know that this is the year of the BBW and self acceptance is a beautiful thing. HOWEVER, if you're 300 pounds and elect wearing a see through top with next to nothing underneath . . . I'm shooting you my damn self.

Sister to sister, all that weave looks hot and heavy. The heat emanating from your scalp is making me sweat. As a matter of fact, that's not club smoke you see around you, that's vapor.

Lastly, if you see your girlfriend going out wrong, tap her on shoulder and help her out. Those that see these wrongs, yet say nothing are even more guilty than the offenders.

Random

It's messed up when you find everything you never knew you always wanted encased in someone that you've always known you should never want.

Can I shine?

What's the matter with your life?

Why you gotta mess with mine?

Don't keep sweatin' what I do

Cuz I'm gonna be just fine - check it out

[CHORUS]

If I wanna take a guy home with me tonight

It's none of your business

And she wanna be a freak and sell it on the weekend

It's none of your business

Now you shouldn't even get into

who I'm givin' skins to

It's none of your business

So don't try to change my mind,

I'll tell you one more time

It's none of your business

Now who do you think you are

Puttin' your cheap two cents in?

Don't you got nothin' to do

Than worry 'bout my friends? Check it...

I can't do nothin', girl, without somebody buggin'

I used to think that it was me, but now I see it wasn't

They told me to change, they called me names,

and so I popped one

Opinion's are like assholes and everybody's got one

I never put my nose where I'm not supposed to

Believe me, if he's something that I want, I'm steppin' closer

I'm not one for playing high-pole

Like the high siddity 90210 type of the ho

I treat a man like he treats me

The difference between a hooker and a ho ain't nothin' but a fee

So hold your tongue tightly,

wish you could be like me

You're poppin' all that mess only to stress and to spite me

Now you can get with that or you can get with this

But I don't give a shit cuz really it's none of your business

-Salt N Pepa

Damn! Can my people and I have fun? Can folks speak their minds without bystanders getting their panties in a bunch? Don't like the program? Change the channel.

Okay, venting over. Go back to your lives citizens.

Addendum - Please allow me to credit Danja for posting this song first...though GOD only knows why. I mean I don't think she wrote it. colored folks . . .I tell ya. She also has this thing with folks using "her" words . . . as though her name is Webster's or something. Ah well. I love her funky self anyway.

It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye

The mystique of dating a married (or otherwise committed) man is something I've never been interested in dissecting. Nothing is sexier than honesty. A committed man can't be involved with someone else and remain honest. When you have knowledge of a person's dishonesty, I would think that you'll always wonder "When is it my turn? When is that person going to be dishonest with me?" Or maybe it's just me who thinks that way.

I had a friend, my first roommate as a matter of fact, who dated married men. She was a serial married-man-dater. It was quite disturbing to watch a married guy sit at her apartment, on his cell phone with his wife telling her that he was at "Tony's" house. What was more disturbing was my homegirl just flitting around like it wasn't a thing. I, on the other hand, was about to piss my (then still virgin) panties. I just KNEW that she had a LoJack implanted in his genitals, was on her way and somehow I would get caught up in the bloody crossfire. When I expressed my concerns, my friend casually replied, "Oh, she always calls when he leaves the house. She probably knows he's with somebody, she's just not sure who." Daaaaaamn . . . that's messed up. Scratch that . . . that's FUCKED UP!

Now she has a husband . . . and is quaking in her boots. She suffers from PTSD (Post-Triflin' Stress Disorder). Now that she's decided to stop cheating, she is scared to death that her man is on his cell phone at "Tony's" house.

I know quite a few women who deal with the same issues. My ex's current wife is among them. It was cool when I was the one being left at home, but now that he's pulling disappearing acts on her, she's talking all slick to me when I call out of necessity. BLAH.

Karma really isn't something to fool with.

Men that don't bother me

Yes smarty pants, such things exist. I have spent a lot of my blog time talking about men that bother me, yet I don't speak much about men that don't. So in all fairness, I will list some male non family members that don't bother me. I'll go so far as to say, I actually like these dudes.

1. My friend JC

He's a wonderful pain in the ass. Some days I have a crush on him, some days I want to drive to his town and let the air out of his tires. However, he's great. I can count on him when I want honesty and the occasional twisted compliment. He gives me advice like "Stop reading so much and have some sex dammit!" I tend to find it funny (except when I have the occasional crush on him). He's one of those cats that knows something about a little bit of everything, which is a handy trait most of the time.

2. My friend MW

He's my sweetie pie!!! We have been friends for a long time. If I wasn't such a bitch and he wasn't such a wuss, we probably would have dated at some point. But alas, the bitchiness and wussiness triumphed, so we're just good friends. We bonded through our eclectic personalities and copious knowledge of useless facts. We can always find something to laugh and talk about. He's a horndog, and sometimes I think he wants my booty, but nobody's perfect and his good points outweigh whatever else he has going on.

3. My friend RF

I have a confession. I am the tiniest bit crazy about him. He's funny, encouraging, extremely intelligent, cute. . . *sigh, swoon* I could go on. The oddest thing is, as honest as I have been with every other guy that I've been interested in, I've never told him that I have a major league crush on him. It doesn't matter, because he moved away to Chicago to go to school and is mad busy. I still get bright eyed when I hear from him though. Dammit! I can't post too much about him because I'll end up sounding all mushy and high school-ish.

4. My friend NG

He's really and truly a cutie. I used to have a crush on him and he kissed me once. Shortly afterward, he said that we should "just be friends." I spent a while wanting to punch him in the nose. Then I just got over it one day and we were buds again. He's really cool to talk to and cool to hang around. No harm, no foul. He also has more paid leave on his job than I thought humanly possible. HE AIN'T GOT NO JOB MANNNNNN! Hee hee.

5. My friend LS

He's probably my best male friend. He sucks because now that he has a girlfriend, I hardly ever hear from him, but he's good folk anyway. If I need something, he's on the spot without a thought. So I GUESS I can deal with him having to spend time with his girl. Even if he don't get no bigga. . .

6. My friend AM

He is the quintessential gentleman and sweetie pie. I had to actually come back and add him to this post. I can't imagine HOW I forgot him. He's extremely smart, a doctor as a matter of fact, cute and funny as well. He tells some of the most unbelievable stories I've ever heard. I've given him a category in life called "Just A__" because these things could never happen to, or be told by, anyone else.

Honorable Mention

These are guys that I haven't had the pleasure of hanging out with, but they're still good folk in cyberland:

1. My chat buddy CJ

He's mad smart, sarcastic, a fellow Sag and has beautiful dreds. How can I not be cool with someone possessing those qualities?

3. My chat buddy K

He's cool and funny. . . even if he did say my pic looked like something out of the 80's. I won't hold it against him. He's fun to talk to and keeps me laughing. Plus he agrees that New Orleans has some of the best food in the world.

Whew! Dishing out compliments...and it didn't hurt a bit.

Mel's Rotten Tomato Pitching Extravaganza!!!

If you are familiar with my blog, you know that I have a surly side and get annoyed by some harmless stuff. I love poking fun at that which annoys me. What better thing to do on a rainy day (since I can't engage in mind bending sex) than mentally pitch rotten tomatoes at life's little annoyances?

I have a very firm belief about what should happen to the individual who spawned, as well as the individuals that use, the term "overstand". Each individual should be shot and buried. The earth where their remains lie is to be salted to prevent anything from growing there, but I'll settle for hurling a tomato. I'm assuming that this expression was coined to become a clever, intelligent substitute for the word understand. Wooooohooooo we don't want to be UNDER anything. The individuals using this word remind me of the character portrayed by Damon Wayans on "In Living Color." You remember the dude. . . he would always create big words to give off an air of an intellectualist. He would run around saying things like "Suppress your deFLEcation" and whatnot. Poor sap. The thing is, he was a character in a sketch comedy series - the overstanders are in earnest. These are the same people that believe that since "conversate" has been added to the dictionary, it should be used. *sigh* What am I going to do with my people? *SPLAT!*

Though I recognize that a public lavatory is, well, public, but there is are unwritten rules that should be followed. Namely, if a stall is in use, and there are three other available stalls, do NOT use the adjacent stall. Come on! What the hell is wrong with you? It's a "personal space" concept. Get with it. *SPLAT!*

When new folks ask the question "Did you miss me?" or some other intimate question inappropriate to a new situation/relationship. This is not a male or a female thing. I've seen both sexes commit this grave folly. I concede that there have been occasions where two people meet and hit it off. Sometimes though, one hits it out of the park. . .leaving the other in the stands. Take it easy people. Shit like that is how stalking begins. *SPLAT!*

All to often, I encounter people who believe that black folks are a monolith. If someone of another ethnicity were to walk up to a black person and assume that they like chicken, the gut reaction is to become highly offended. It's an ignorant stereotype. That being said, why is it okay for other black folks to assume what movies, books, television shows, politicians and just general ideology, black people should approve of and support? This needs no explanation. . . *SPLAT!* As a matter of fact, folks that generalize by race, sex, or beliefs as a matter of course *SPLAT!*

The terms "ATM Machine" and "PIN Number" bug me. Especially since one would be saying "Automated Teller Machine Machine" and "Personal Identification Number Number" The average layperson says it without thinking. They go to the bank, that's what the rep calls it and ultimately, so sayeth they. I spent quite a few years working for a bank and almost ALL of the employees, who should arguably no better, used these terms. This one is for you. *SPLAT!*

People under the age of 50 that wear fanny packs. *SPLAT!* (I'm biased towards people over the age of 50 since my daddy wears them. Call me a hypocrite - I don't care. He paid my car insurance last month and is a positive male influence for my kids, so he can pretty much do whatever the hell he wants.)

Men with pigtails. *blank stare* and *SPLAT!*

I guess that's it for now. Then again, what could possibly come after men who choose to wear their hair like my four year old daughter.

Mel - Hurling tomatoes for over 20 years.

I Could Have Lied

There must be something
In the way I feel

That she don't want me to feel

The stare she bares cut me

I don't care

You see so what if I bleed

I could never change

Just what I feel

My face will never show

What is not real

A mountain never seems to have

The need to speak

A look that shares so many seek

The sweetest feeling

I got from you

The things I said to you were true

I could never change

Just what I feel

My face will never show

What is not real

[Chorus]

I could have lied

I'm such a fool

My eyes could never never never

Keep their cool

Showed her and I told her how

She struck me but I'm fucked up now

But now she's gone yes she's gone away

A soulful song

That would not stay

You see she hides 'cause she is scared

But I don't care

I won't be spared

- Red Hot Chili Peppers

I'm naked. Emotionally, that is. I feel without fear. You don't have to guess with me. If you spend any amount of time with me, you will be shown, and probably told, exactly how I feel. I wonder if that's a good way to be? Sometimes, people are not ready to hear what I feel, which ultimately means they are not ready for me. Of all the things I have been able to shroud, my feelings have never been among them. Lately, I've questioned the wisdom of my complete emotional honesty. Maybe sometimes, I should lie.

Childless People

Sometimes I really don't like them. Especially single childless people. The total unaccountability of it all. It just makes me want to vomit. Yeah, I'm hating, so what? The thing is, some single, childless people don't understand my pain.

When my single, childless girlfriends tells me that she has met the perfect man and thinks I should date him, I must resist the urge to slap the shit out of her. If he was that perfect, she'd be dating him. End of story. I have encountered a vast array of characters and issues listening to my friends. These include: horndog/man-whore, major BO, chronic between job-ness, mama's boy syndrome, a descendant of Lilliput, old enough to be my father's older uncle, extreme dorkiness, several ex-wives, preoccupation with dull or odd topics and what I refer to as "damp mouth" (always looking unnecessarily moist around the mouth). More times than not, she thinks she's done me a solid by setting us up, you know, since the dating pool for my single, parent self is soooo small. If the date is unsuccessful and and I'm still speaking to the heffa (even if it's just to ask her what the fuck she was thinking), she usually justifies her judgment by saying something like, "Girrrrrrrl, you better get on that man, he make goot money." I couldn't give a flying fart on the rings of Saturn what he does or how much he makes, there is nothing I can do with a 5'1, moist mouthed man with BO that lives with his mama.

Far too often, the single, childless men that I date only have eyes (and ears) for themselves. This is the man that can't do anything but talk about what he does, where he does it, how good he looks while he's doing it, what he drives, what he'll be driving next, who he used to date, what type of women he has no patience for, blah, Blah, BLAH!!! Shut the fuck up you verbose summamabitch! Once I've been verbally pummelled into silence, one of two things happens, he either asks me why I'm not talking he tells me that he likes me because I "know how to listen to a brotha." The fact is, since he knows absolutely nothing about me (or the rest of humanity in general since he only pays attention to himself), he does not realize that I'm damn near bored to the point of tears.

Many single, childless people (especially middle/upper middle class) have no concept of financial reality. I had a friend that told me that it would be better for me if I quit my current job, took on a waitressing job and go to school. That way, my schedule could be flexible and I could live off student loans in the meantime. Shut up you twit. In this instance, I thought about siccing my children on her. There is no way on this earth I can financially cope on my own as a part time anything and raise two kids.

My two favorite things to hear from a single childless person are "Why don't you just get a sitter?" and "Why don't you just send them to bed?" Both sound easy. . . neither actually are. Most parents need breaks because the kids are bad as hell. Sitters know this and therefore, aren't usually inclined to deal with bad ass so and sos that don't belong to them, not without receiving a hefty fee at least. As far as putting a kid to bed, at least with my kids, you have to damn near be a belt wielding samurai octopus. When you get one down, the other gives you issues, once that one is down, the other one is stirred again. If I had a nickel for every time I have said go to bed in the past year, I would be able to pay the plastic surgery bills for Lil' Kim, Viveca and Demi twice over.

This year my sister has taken pity on me (THANK YOU!) and is going to take my children to spend some time with her this summer. Maybe then I can lose my senses and enjoy an (albeit temporary) unaccountable existence.

Rwanda Redux?

http://www.kansascity.com/mld/kansascity/news/consumer_news/11154568.htm

http://www.alertnet.org/thefacts/reliefresources/111038817665.htm

Yo, the media really doesn't give a fuck about what happens in Africa, does it? I see why black folks are a minority - we get slaughtered by the MILLIONS and no one hears about it. Ain't that some shit?

Monday's Child is Full of Grace

She is the embodiment of joy. She loves ponies, princesses and dolls. Sometimes I go in the room just to watch her sleep; or ask her a question just to hear her speak. The funny thing is, I didn't even want a daughter. The birth and upbringing of my son went so swimmingly, I couldn't wait to bring another boy into this world. Sneakers and basketballs all the way. Ribbons were NOWHERE in the vision.

When the doctor told me I was having a girl, I smiled and was grateful that I was blessed with yet another healthy baby, but a smidge disappointed. I grew up with three sisters, so I'd had my fill of dealing with the additional estrogen. The thought of the mega-fro that I knew I would have to comb was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

On Monday, March 5, my little Jaedyn entered the world. Her personality was evident from day one. Jaedyn was also delivered by C-section. (There are folks that argue that C-sections aren't really "having" the baby. My ass extends an invitation to their lips.) I remembered being on the table when I had Ty, there was this enormous amount of pressure, then out popped the baby. Not so with the diva. I felt this enormous amount of pressure, then it it stopped. Then I felt another enormous amount of pressure, then it stopped. After the third time, I had to ask what happened and they all laughed. "I'm sorry Mrs. ___, but she keeps curling back in." They eventually suctioned her out (literally) and showed me a carbon copy of Tyson. She was tinier and had a somewhat softer look, but they were definitetly brother and sister.

However, I faced the challenge of making the ladybug welcome, without upsetting the little person who up until that point, was the sole owner of my heart. So I made her his baby. I made sure that he was a part of everything that needed to be done for her. That way, rather than her taking over, she was fitting in.

She was the best baby I've ever encountered in all of my days. She slept at night, she was easy to console and she was extremely quiet. Once while I was taking a nap, her dad told me that he was going out and taking the kids. I took that as an opportunity to do some grocery shopping, so I hopped in the shower, got dressed and headed out the door. As I put my key in the door, I realized that her dad left without taking her car seat, so I went back in the house to call him, find out where he was and bring him the car seat. There Jae was in the seat, playing with the buckle on her seat, quiet as a mouse.

Of course, that lasted until she was about a year. She turned into the most hellacious child I've ever encountered in all of my days. She's a princess, she's a diva, she's a mommy to her dolls and she's a complete sweetheart - most of the time. I joke about renting her out to folks with self-esteem issues. By the time she finishes telling you how beautiful and sweet and nice you are, you CAN'T be depressed.

Her eyes are her most striking feature. It's not their copper-brown hue or large almond shape that grabs you - it's the life that is in them. She does everything passionately. She's not afraid, she's "so TOTALLY scared." She doesn't think you look good, you look "super gorgeous." She's not angry with you, she'll "never be your friend forever n'ever."

She has most of the people in her life hypnotized: my dad, her dad's parents, her brother, my sisters. It's hilarious to me, but I guess that's all a part of the fabulous life of a princess.

Movies I Would Have REALLY Wanted to See

"Disappearing Acts"
"Thelma & Louise"
"Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood"

Women flock to see these movies so they can say things like "it was touching", "it's very poignant" and, through tears, "I felt like it was about me and my friends!!!" Uh I'm sorry, but did you see Angela Bassett's house in "Waiting to Exhale"? None of my broke ass girlfriends have it like that. I also have yet to know of a woman that went to Jamaica on a whim. Biloxi, maybe. . . Myrtle Beach if they're being "exotic", but never Jamaica. So I'm going to list some titles of movies that I'd like to see, that would make me feel comfortable.

1. "Disappearing Ass" - Young urban professional sister struggles with a weight problem. She meets a roughneck type brother that blows her back out, causing her to shed pounds in the process. She ultimately realizes that he is a loser, dumps him, but enjoys her new found weight loss.

2. "How Stella Got Her Income Tax" - Single mother is laid off, but fortunately, she's just received her W-2. She immediately goes to Turbo Tax on the web (because she's decided that Jackson Hewitt sucks ASS!), recieves a rapid refund and is able to stay afloat until she finds a new job.

3. "Waiting to Choke-Slam" - Four women - one left for a white woman, one living a life as the other woman, one finding out about a gay ex-husband and one just generally being dizzy - decide they have had it up to here! After the backs of their proverbial camels have been broken, watch as these women ceremoniously beat the crap out of everyone that commits even the most minor infraction.

4. "Divine Secrets of the Front Hook Bra" - One woman's quest to find the front hooked bra that never unfastens in public.

5. "Kecia & Sherelle" - After telling their SO's to fuck off, these two sisters decide that crime sprees are for white folks, go to Mexico with little incident, and open a popular soul food joint in Guadalajara.

Ahhhhh...if this world were mine.

Information Age? Yeah...right.

This morning, a judge and two other individuals were killed in a
courtroom. This is a very tragic event that has been all over the
news. My prayers are with their families.

However, this morning, ELEVEN members of a New Orleans family were
killed in a fire. I'm attaching the link that tells the story.

http://www.nola.com/news/t-p/frontpage/index.ssf?/base/news-3/111052592523900.xml

Though this information was on the first page of the local paper, I
haven't seen it anywhere else? Why? Because eleven broke ass niggas
don't rank in the media. They don't now...and they haven't ever. Now,
were this a story about the father coming in and shooting his eleven
family members to death, CNN, FOX News, AP and Reuters would have
broken their necks to ensure this tale be broadcast far and wide.

In all honesty, this is nothing more than what I expected from the
media, but somewhere, in a hope beyond hope, I'd like to think that 11
black lives would register on the national radar, even if it's only
for a day. Maybe I'm pissed because Jon Benet Ramsey is still in the
media spotlight and most of America will never know that nine year old
Stephanie Wilson existed.

We can go all around the mulberry bush regarding the bad judgment in
having that number of people in a small house and the complete
stupidity that caused the tragedy. However, in the end, eleven human
lives were lost. Four children will not be in school today. Three
children will never even know what school looks like. We will NEVER
know what six month old Hyron could have become. Saturday, March 5
will be marked as the last time Sylvain Johnson ever bought candy for
his children. Ireone has lost everyone, save her own child. The salt
on this gaping wound is that, not only does the national media not
care, but it's obviously under the belief that the majority of America
doesn't either.

Booty - Erykah Badu

Your booty might be bigga
But I still can pull your nigga
But I don't want him

Ya got sugar on your pita
But ya nigga thinks I'm sweeter
But I don't want him

Ya know the whole encyclopedia
But ya nigga thinks I'm deeper
But I don't want him

Got a whole lot a junk off in ya trunk
But ya nigga think I'm live and I keep him crunk
I don't want him

Hey, hey, heyI don't want him
cause of what he doin to you
And you don't need him
Cause he ain't ready
See I don't want him
If he ain't made no arrangement with you
I hope you would've done the same thing for me too

Your kisses might be wetter
But your nigga likes mine better
But I don't want him

Ya got the beans and rice and the hot ho cakes
But ya nigga still over here in my plate
I don't want him

Ya got a PHD, Magna Cum Laude
But ya nigga love me with a GED
I don't want him

You the one with all the money
And he knows my money's funny
But I don't want him

Hey, hey, hey
I don't want him
Cause of what he doin to you
And you don't need him
Cause the boy ain't ready

Got ya pad all decked out fa sho
But ya niggas at my door, though
I don't want him

Well you can do the butterfly and the tootsie roll
But ya nigga straight sprung off the way I stroll
I don't want him

Ya know the whole 120 + degree
But you can't keep ya guy up off his knees
I don't want him

Got a 9-5 and a 6-10
But ya nigga told me not to work again I don't want him

Hey, hey, heyI don't want him
Cause of what he doin to you
And you don't need him
Cause he ain't ready

Booty - Erykah Badu

This is a dedication for all the tired ass folks that are cheaters, pursuing cheaters, holding on to cheaters or trying to build shit with cheaters. Wake the hell up.