let the countdown begin...

Anyhoo, as usual, in the last 48 hours of the year I am running around trying to do all the things that should've been accomplished in the past 363 days. I'm trying to make returns, drop-offs at the Goodwill, find a new desk, clean the apartment from top to bottom, workout and of course, find the perfect dress for New Year's Eve.

Which is exactly why instead of peacefully enjoying my "stay-cation" inside my apartment, I was out in the streets and visually assaulted at every turn with what I consider the biggest fashion offense of the year- rib-cage length cropped winter coats and sweater (a.k.a. the reinvented shrug). Yeah I said it. That bullshit needs to GO.

Seriously, what the hell is the purpose of this half assed cover-up? Especially when it's your winter coat?? Just so I'm clear- you've got the long sleeves and and hood with the fur but not the actual coat part? Call me anal but doesn't that defeat the purpose of the coat concept? Wait, lemme guess, only your boobs get cold in the winter?

I can't.

And for the record, at five feet flat, I'm a huge fan of the standard waist-length cropped coats/ jackets/ sweaters/whatever. But NO ONE looks good in those Forever 21/ 5-7-9/ Marshalls bargain bin specials.

I don't care if you're not "fat" or eventechnically "chubby"- if you ain't anerexic or rocking the certified six-pack, your stomach will poke out from under that mess. It will jiggle when you walk. It is sloppy and yes, you do look a hot ass mess.

Let the prayer circles commence, I'm tagging out.

don't mess w her man...

God bless her heart, over the past eight years, Condoleezza Rice has never ceased to amaze. Talk about the forreal, forreal bottom chick, she holds dumbass W. DOWN!

Her ability to consistently turn a blind-eye to the atrocities of the current Bush administration are damn near unrivaled: Ridiculous tax breaks for the wealthy? Yup. Multiple cases of genocides around the world? Forget it. Spy on US citizens and torture prisoners for fun? Let's do it. Invade a bunch of countries for kicks? I wanna jump out the plane after you. Sit back and watch thousands of Americans die in New Orleans? I'll be in Sergio Rossi picking up those red pumps you like to see me in.

I mean, even poor Colonel Powell had to cry mercy, blame his wife and bail the hell out of the shit show.

But not Condoleezza. No maam. Ms. Rice is absolutely determined to take it to the finish line talking about "experts criticizing Bush "aren't very good historians" and "people will soon thank George Bush for what he's done." Really Condi??? So this is how you want to go down in history? Sigh.

I swear, they don't make 'em like this anymore...

turn it off and shut your mouth

So we can all agree that there's very little more annoying than the people who think its okay to make noise in the theater during a movie. With zero shame, I have shushed (is that even a word?) the shit out of more than one uruly gaggle of teens. For the record, I never thought twice about tossing a snotty comment or two about the obvious lack of home training in the direction of the noisemakers. And if its really, really bad (cause sometimes it's like that uptown) I'm quick to send my date to snag the manager and have those fools tossed the hell out.

So as you can see, I am very protective of my little $10.50 investment. But there is, as Elsa likes to say, a limit to the stupidity. And for the record, it is not acceptable, I repeat NOT ACCEPTABLE- to SHOOT people over a damn movie.

No sir James Joseph Cialella, contrary to popular news reports Philly is not the wild, wild, West. There will be no popping off at folks just because you can't hear what Rosario Dawson whispered to Will Smith at that crucial moment in the opening scene. Do you hear me? You'd better pull it together white boy!

i want popcorn and gummy bears and...

I'm not the bigest movie goer. Call me cheap but there's something about paying damn near $12 to watcha movie that I preview for free through some random hook-up ('cause there's always a hook-up) or worse case scenerio, wait four months and get for like $1.75 through my NETFLIX membership. To make matters worse, there haven't really been any recent releases in I don't know, oh the past five YEARS that's seemed worth half the effort of picking a theater, selecting a showtime, coordinating with friends and busting my ass in enough time to get a good seat. Bottom line? That $12 could just as easily go towards a much needed manicure at the Chinese spot up the block.

But I have to say, this Christmas, I'm actually excited about a bunch of new releases. I am dying to see Slumdog Millionaire! Forget all the fantastic buzz and rave reviews, there's enough angst in those promo posters alone to make me feel like I'm PMSing. And can we talk about Doubt, Milk, The Wrestler and Rachel Getting Married? Oh god- the drama, the righteous cause, the blood and the drugs! It's as if I'm a little kid just saw the commericial for E.T.! I'm literally squealing in anticipation... Mmm-hmm, total immaturity overload.

i'll pass...

Uh-huh all you "I'm-healthier-than-thou-because-I-eat-sushi-and-do pilates" people better watch yourselves. Apparently everyone's favorite anal agent, actor Jeremy Piven aka 'Ari' from HBO's Entourage was recently hospitalized from the elevated levels of mercury in his diet. And doctors are blaming his illness on the large amount of fish in his diet. Forreal, dude had to withdraw from 'Speed-the-Plow,the Broadway play he was starring in and the whole nine. God grief. Is the salmon and swordfish that serious?

Mmm-hmm, that's why I'm sticking to the roasted chicken from my local Dominican takeout. Cause the only thing you ever get from El Malecon is overcharged.

say my name...

Although no one's ever mistakenly called me by another woman's name, I have to admit I've been known to slip up a time or two or okay maybe even, three... Oops. (Hey, I can't help it if I know a lot of men-hee hee)

BUT, in my humble opinion, all the flipping out, getting mad and kicking a fuss that 48% of you are threatening to do seems a tad futile if the offense was committed during sleep. No one intentionally makes that kind of mistake when they're awake and alert (trust me), let alone what he/she can control during a deep slumber.


And let's be honest, most people forget their dreams soon after waking. Do you really want to remind them that they were thinking about another person? Hmm, didn't think so. Cut your eyes all you want but let's be clear- it's gonna piss me off royally if you wake me up in the middle of the night to discuss something that I can't even remember. I'm just saying.

Needless to say, I'm with the 51% who just don't think it's worth it. I don't wanna fight. Maybe it's the dude in me but can't we just be glad that we're here together and not worry about what's really going through my head???

come to america, we'll give you asylum...

OMG, did you hear what had happened (yes, I wrote it like that on purpose) to Muntadhar al-Zeidi, the reporter that threw his show at President Bush?? Dude got BEAT! According to the AP, official Iraq reports are saying that the reporter was last seen with bruises around his eyes and on his face. And wait on it- he's still missing. Damn dude....

It's just so sad to me that this guy's life is at risk for doing what the majority of the intelligent, higher conscious world have been dreaming about for the past 8 years.

On an upside, the uber-rich, sultan-type, head of a large West Bank family offered one of its eligible females as a bride for al-Zeidi. AND the leader, 75-year-old Ahmad Salim Judeh, said that the 500-member clan has raised $30,000 for the legal defense in appreciation for the act of bravery.


Hmmm... could be a good look if dude ever shows up alive....

a little too heavy..

And just like that NYC is freezing. Sigh. I hate the cold gray days of winter as much as I hate full length fake fur coats. Well Almost. 'Cause I really, really hate those damn coats.

Anyhoo, I went to a sneak preview of Will Smith's new movie, Seven Pounds last night. Ummm-hmmm, don't hate. We should all have friends with hook-ups as wonderful as Charreah.

So I won't spoil the movie for you guys but there was definitely a lot of emotional upheaval and mortality confrontations going on. Not sure it exactly fits the upbeat-feel-good holiday movie genre... But on an upnote, Rosario Dawson was killer. She acted her ass off in this one. So if for nothing else, go see her.

Oh and I loved the dog too.

no kinda sense...

So I get the random text from Crystal last night telling me to turn on NBC and watch this new reality show they're previewing called, Mamas Boys. Where, if I'm to understand the premise correctly, overprotective mothers help select the right girl for thier 'perfect' sons to date. Ummmm... okay.

If it sounds like the Bachelor with his crazy momma in tow to you; don't worry, that's the same thing I thought. And for the record, I haven't had the slightest interest in watching The Bachelor since that crazy man married that Norwegian airline stewardess (wasn't her name Darma or something like that?) live on national TV five seconds after his fugly identity was revealed. Only to then find out he was a total looney tune and dead broke. Do you remember that? But I digress...

So anyhoo, I'm watching and playing along as the women in the brothel (there are 32 grownass women living in 1 house) get all excited to first meet the men (three random white guys with whatever looks and obviously inflated egos) and then their moms (yawn).

Don't you know, it's all fun and games until in walks the wildcard- the racist mother. Yes they did. Some squat, white, half-illiterate Catholic woman named Mrs. B who doesn't want any race or religion mixing for her precious, pure-American, only son... Who if you ask me, looks like he's half Puerto Rican with all the extra fuzzy hair and dark skin. But wait on it.

Instead of keeping it moving, WHY did this black chick named VITA, decide that b/c she is an Iraq War vet that fought for everyone in this country, she was going to be the one to confront old girl? Homegirl rolls on the mom and righteous talking about, I think you should apologize to all of us for thoe racist comments you made. Cause I'm in the military and I protect the people like you!"

Well don't you know KKK Queen was having none of it. She was like, "Um , excuse you? First of all, I didn't tell you to enlist. So that's your problem! And for the record, I have five black friends. So I am not a racist. And no, I will not apologize! Matter of fact, my skin is darker than yours, so F- You Bee-yatch!!" And then she turned around and walked away.

Yes, you read that correctly. She straight up called Vita the B-word and BOUNCED.

I swear, it was like a modern day version of that classic Eddie Murphy RAW monologue where the short wite Italian guy goes to see Rocky in the movie theater, loses his mind and makes the mistake of going hard with the big black dude. Except this was an old white woman and in a complete flip of fate, she SHUT THAT HO DOWN.

Vita was looking all kinds of flabbergasted and confused. Not nam one of the chicks that popped that mess with her earlier when they were discussing 'what they would do when they laid eyes on the mom' said word the first. It was like, "Uh-uh, you on your own my sister"... Damn.

You see what gentrification has gotten us? Mmm-hmm, I hope you're satisfied.

on second thought...

Okay, so 77% are down to comfortable using toys/ games with our partners. Can't say that I'm really surprised. Considering the world we live in, I'm willing to bet that the majority of the 22% whom responded not so much, only said that because they're too chicken to bring it up themselves and no one's suggested yet.

You know, kinda like the quiet "good" girls who are really just waiting for any boy to look their way so the slut out missions can commence?

In hindsight, a more interesting question might have been, have you ever tried to get it popping with the toys and totally get shut down? Read: your partner freezes up and looks like you suggested inviting his/her mom into a 3-some? Talk about akward.

And if so, how the heck do you recover from that? Do you simply laugh and say, 'Just kidding' really fast? Cause the way I see it, if the person feels all offended like your suggestion is a personal insult (i.e " I don't play those reindeer games! I can't believe you think I'm that type of guy/girl!!!"), the whole hook-up could be a wrap. Forreal, forreal...

so sad, i have to laugh...

And to think, I thought I was having a rough time lately... According to AP reports, it's gonna cost Madonna close to $75 million dollars to get a divorce form guy Ritchie. And the best part? That's the settlement! He didn't even take her to the mat for cheating with lameass A-Rod. Damn.

But wait on it... as if it isn't enough to hand your hard earned money to a good for nothing marginally talented director- oh wait, some people would prob say the same about her as a singer- in a recent concert, the Kaballah Queen slipped and fell down mid-step. Yup, sure did. One minute she's prancing across the stage in booty shorts and some trannie certified sneaker-high heel hybrid and the next she's on her back. Splat!

Granted, I'll give it to her. The Material Girl definitely tried to play it off like an intention move. But let's be real, Madge ain't no body spring chicken. There wasn't going ot be any 'jump right back up' like the time Ms. Beyonce tumbled down the steps in her concert. No sir. Lord knows, she's probably seeing a chiropractor right this moment.

You know, it almost feels wrong to laugh at the senior citizen... almost.

so about saturday...

Okay, I need to start by saying that it was FREEZING outside on Saturday.

No, not cold like "you should probably wear your hat" cold. It was more like "you should probably stay your behind inside" type weather going on out there. I know for a fact that when I turned on NY1, the temp said 26 degrees. How-some-ever, you'll be happy to know.... WE DID IT.

Me and my girls dragged our lazy behinds (well, almost all of them... There were some casualties that fell off along the way- LISA, MELISSA, TRICIA) down to the Central Reservoir and completed the first ever Race To Save Our Thighs.


I wish I could give you a blow-by-blow about the whole experience but unfortunately my brain was frozen for the majority of the time we were out there. So aside from Charreah frontin' hard like her alarm didn't go off when we all know you were trying to get out of it, Marissa's gloves getting stolen at the Starbucks on 125th/ Lennox before she even arrived at the starting line, Toya spiking her water bottle with some GNC Jesus juice, Sharae trying to simultaneously jog and hide her face from the video camera (yes, Toya's hubby-to-be, Dre a.k.a Drill Captain also braved the cold to bring the camcorder) and my ankles feeling like they were going to shatter into a million pieces with every frozen step; I can't remember much.

No worries, as soon as we get all the scenes where I'm panting like a wildebeast and Toya's nose is running like a leaky faucet edited out, I'll put the video up for you all to enjoy (read: laugh at). Promise.

the babies are getting big...

Okay, I had to take a sec to give my little cousin Roy (the cute one with the big ears in the top row, center) a quick shout. He was officially named to the 2008 FIRST Team All-FCIAC East Football team in CT. Woo Hoo!!!! I am so proud of him!

OMG, I still remember when he was little enough for me to snatch that badass up with one hand and beat his butt with the other. Now look... he's bench pressing 265lbs and trying to decide what college he wants to play for.

Uh-uh, I can't. Vianet, please go get your nephew.

so this is your president, huh...

Hopefully, we've all managed to stop laughing at the look on President Bush's face when he got not one but TWO shoes hurled at his lying ass in Iraq the other day (that was a helluva duck tho). And I promise I won't beat the horse any deeper into the ground than that fool on CNN, trying to turn the tomfoolery into a serious topic with ridiculous questions like- 'how did this happen?' Um, eight years of pent-up aggression is my best bet. 'With all the security at the bunker, how did this person get inside?' Probably walked in with shoes on like everyone else.

But I did want to take a moment to point out the funniest part of the confrontation. No not the shoe, not the duck, not even the dead-on slurs but rather- the length of time it took the American Secret Service to care enough to react.

Seriously, what were the good 'ole boys doing back behind the door? SLEEPING? Dude stood up, screamed "This is a farewell kiss, you dog," took off a shoe, threw it, took off another shoe, the Iraq agents started to get involved and THEN the American Secret Servicemen decide to pop out and do something? Woah.

slow friday...

Thank you Jesus, the sun finally shines-sorta. Guess there's no getting out of tomorrow's run. Sigh. Considering I haven't seen the gym in 2 days- who can make it out the crib when there's a monsoon going on- no promises on a smooth finish. Let us pray, I don't fall out, have a heart attack and end up on the back page of the Post. Which basically the same level treatment Ashley Simpson-Wentz received when she and hte hubby with way too much eyeliner tried to hock the photos of their new son, Bronx Mowgli. Not ONE single interested buyer. Damn, that's messed up.

the stretch-marked skin i'm in...

So 51% of you guys prefer to get it popping with the lights on?? Very progressive, aren't we? Could it be that the Dove Campaign For Real Beauty is actually on to something? Have we finally learned to embrace the body's natural lumps and bumps? Hmm, knowing my triflin' friends it's probably all the access to countless YouTube videos of super, super-sized women wearing bras and thongs/ dental floss (as seen on my new guilty pleasure http://www.yeahisaiditandwhat.blogspot.com/). But whatever it takes... it's good to know that we're a-okay working with what our mamas gave us. Thanks Els!

Oh and I'm so sure it won't be much longer until the 43% of you guys on the fence with the over-exposure issues fall into the bucket with the rest of us exhibitionists. As much money as the cute undies cost? Who wants to be hiding? I need you to see the product and the overall vision. This way, you can understand why I wanna wild out when you carelessly break a strap or rip the seam.

As for the remaining 5%... Let's see, what can I say... Um, have fun fumbling around in the dark? I sure hope you're using protection and making your partner go to the doctor on a regular basis. 'Cause if they can't see you, guess what? You can't see it. And I am not the one for crazy surprise that can happen in the dark. No sir.

i die...

You know what? Rich people K-I-L-L me!

Why is there an article in today's New York Times about people with money who feel too guilty to be seen carrying too many high end shopping bags because of this whole annoying 'recession thing'??? Wait on it... Rather than reduce the gratuitous consumption; these chicks have gone underground!

Instead, they are choosing to shop at private showroom sales in random hotel rooms and apartments around the city-with armed security at the doors. Um, okay Harriet...

And I quote... "'These people felt as if they belonged to a club,' Ms. Stratton-Norris said, 'one that caters to their tastes and where they could meet like-minded people.' Socially at ease, they were free to indulge an acquisitive streak, 'not embarrassed to purchase in multiples or to tell me, I’ll have one of these in every color.’ ” Do you want one in every color Buffy? Really? HILARIOUS.

Not for nothing, but doesn't this remind you of those secret swinger societies? I can see it now... shop first, exchange husbands later. Umm-hmmm, you know I'm on to something.

3 miles is mad far...

Ever complain about something so much, the very sound of your own voice starts to become annoying? Well that's exactly the point my girl Toya and I reached about our recent "I'm so happy all I do is eat" weight gain last week Wednesday.

Cause truth be told, most folks battle with those annoying 'last 5 lbs' when life is good. But that 7th or 8th pound? Those are beyond annoying. Those are the straight game changers. Let me explain: With 5lbs, your jeans might rub btwn the thighs and leave embarrassing indenture marks on your waist. With an extra 8lbs, your ass is popping buttons and begging the doctor to deduct a pound from the scale for the paper gown and sweat socks! See? It's too much.

I know, I know, in the grand scheme of things, 8 lbs is nothing when people everywhere are dealing with much more serious weight/ health issues. Look at poor Oprah for Chrissake... all that money and home girl is tipping the scale at 200lbs??? Uh, uh you got more people than this O. Speaking of which, where is Gail? Why isn't her trifling behind taking the cookies out of the cupboard? But I digress.

I assure you, this is bigger than simple vanity. This is really about being a bunch of lazy cheap asses. Hoenstly, with the economy going down the shitter, who da hell has the extra $175 to replace a pair of jeans just cause you couldn't say no to that chocolate souffle at Campo? Mmm-hmmm, I didn't think so.

With that said, Toya and I came up with the bright idea to train for a 5K run. We figure if there's something to accomplish, we'll stay on our workout/ better eating habit regiment forreal, forreal this time. Sounds believable, right?

Well here's the thing, she and I are both instant gratification whores that can't wait longer than two seconds or we're off the little red wagon. So we've decided to stage our very own race and even picked a date (drumroll, please)- THIS Saturday, December 16th.

Yes, you read that correctly. 10 days from the initial conversation and a mere 2 days from now, Toya, myself and I about six other mutual girlfriends who generally only run to sample sales and from the rain after getting the hair did (you didn't really think we were going to put ourselves through this craziness alone did you??) will be running/ walking/ dragging our behinds around NYC's Central Park Resevoir in the freezing cold in the 1st ever Race To Save Our Thighs 5K Run to raise awareness to the fact that cuteness kills.

You love it, right?

need to start using that tivo...

So funny, I was just thinking how much I missed watching The Wire. Lord knows, I lived for those last two seasons!


And then, the NYT news alert about Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich being arrested and charged with corruption, including an allegation that he conspired to profit from his authority to appoint President-elect Barack Obama's successor in the United States Senate popped up in the ever full inbox. Go figure.

So according to the 76-page affidavit, this dude was "heard on wiretaps over the last month planning to “sell or trade Illinois’ United States Senate seat vacated by Pres-elect Barack Obama for financial and personal benefits for himself and his wife.” And he got extra, extra gangster with the press, threatening "to withhold state assistance from the Tribune Company, the publisher of the Chicago Tribune and Los Angeles Times, which filed for bankruptcy on Monday." Why? Because according to the feds, "Mr. Blagojevich wanted members of the Tribune’s editorial board, who had criticized him, to be fired before he extended any state assistance." Word? It's like that?

Poor pinktoe, did you not learn anything from Avon Barksdale?

lookin for a four-leaf clover...

One of my least favorite sayings in the world is: Ain’t nothing worth having ever come easy.

WHY NOT? Why can’t I get rich without trying? Why won’t this article write itself? Why can’t I meet the perfect partner, get married and live happily ever after? Why can’t I have thighs of steel without stepping foot in that stinky New York Sports Club gym ever, ever, ever again? Huh, dammit? (insert moment of silence for me to cut the crap and pull myself together).

Okay so now that I have that out of my system, can we talk about the 26% of you guys in relationships with people who, that if circumstances were ideal, you might not share a cup of coffee with let alone have sex? Good grief, this is just so depressing to me. I mean I hear you with the whole, “real relationships require work and compromise.” But seriously?

Perhaps (and I’m quite sure I have an ex or two that'd agree), I'm still deep in my selfish stage... but is it really better to be with Mr. Whatever than Mr. He Works-It-Out?

Like seriously, are the 53% of us holding out for the fairytale bugging? It's okay, you can tell us. Even if we are; I know I'm trying to get into as much tomfoolery as possible while in this blissful state of denial. Cause there's nothing worse than the miserable single chick. It's like for all that , you might as well go ahead and settle down with the whatever approaches you on the next trip to the grocery store ('cause you know nothing says come and get it, like a ratty pair of sweats and dingy head scarf).

As for 20% of you who swear that you’ve found your soul mates- dirty drawers and all- Can you please stop being so stingy with the info? How did you do it? Where did you go? And did you see unicorns while you were there? No sir, I'm just playing.

its all so clear...

Oh now, I get it...

The real reason that Lord wasn't there to grant Plaxico the commonsense of a 5th grader, save OJ from himself or even prevent ole boy from smacking the taste outta his girlfriend's mouth with a greasy burger? Because he was busy picking out his matching gators and bowler hat for the pimp suit ensemble that he planned to wear to the Sunday service at Greater Grace Temple; a Pentecostal church in Detroit. Cause according to the New York Times, Greater Grace placed not one but THREE SUVs on the alter... 'Cause they were praying for a bailout.

WORK IT OUT Jesus.

does the cheese make it worse...

You know some crimes are just so ridiculous you can't really take them seriously. Picture this:

A couple driving down the road gets into an arguement. What about? oh, I don't know. Let's say she asked him to turn right and he kept going straight. And she gets pissed cause she's tired of going in circles. Anyhoo, to show how sick of his directionally challenged ass she is, she goes ahard tosses the 99 cent Super value drink he just bought out the window. Sidebar: You like how I filled in the story with my own color commentary, right?

In response, this fool back hands homegirl with a CHEESEBURGER. Then wait on it... He pulls over, yanks that butt out the car and proceeds to slap her silly with the aforementioned burger.

O- MI-GOD. Can you please imagine driving by and witnessing this craziness? Or worse, being the police officer that had to keep a straight face while the victim explained what had hapened to her???

LORD, come get your children.

1-800-snitch...

I think we can all agree, there's a big difference between what people say they want and what they can really deal with- especially when it comes to relationships.

As a friend, there's nothing more stressful than catching your BFF's significant other cheating. Even if you can't stand the best bone in said individual's body; no one wants the bad dating karma associated with ending a romantic relationship. AT ALL. But I think it's even worse if you only THINK you saw something inappropriate...


It's like, if you say something and you're wrong, not only have you started unneccessary mess but your credibility is shot to shot to shit. And we're not even touching on the tension/ drama that's guaranteed to pop off the next time you see the significant other because 1) YOU KNOW they're getting back together and 2) no matter how much she swears she won't divulge where she "heard" the info, pillow talk is like chinese water torture out's all coming out.


But on the flipside, if you don't and it turns out to be true.... Hell hath no fury like a friend who thinks their own BFF knew that they were the laughing stock of the city and didn't "care" enough to say something. No sir, you don't want to have THAT conversation either. Because in addition to losing that one friend, any mutual friends will now be giving you the "she's a shady friend who'll let her girl get played out" side-eye behind your back.

I know, I know, you just can't win.


Well if it's any consolation, like myself, 83% responded that even if a friend merely THINKS that she/ he saw your significant other acting up, they want to know. And yes, we understand that your intel may or may not be correct. But bottom line? I know that I'm not gonna say something unless deep in my heart, I really, really think something is wrong. So until proven wrong (as in straight soap opera- she was deceiving me to screw my man type mess) I'll assume the same for my girls (and Geoff). I'd MUCH rather receive a heads-up from a trusted source than be blindsided by the tomfoolery in the streets. And if you just can't bring yourself to do it, DO NOT tell me after the shit hits the fan! I'm warning you now... You will get cussed out and cut off.


And while clearly I don't believe in sticking my head in the sand... Good for the 16% of you that know yourself well enough to just say no. Sometimes a little ignorance greases the wheels of life. If deep down inside you know that you're not unwilling to confront the bs head-on, then no, don't let people come drop it like it's hot on your doorstep. And be upfront! Puh-lease don't go hard like you want the 411 (you know who you are), only to end up miserable and mad at me b/c every time the main squeeze says he's coming home late you wanna send out the bloodhounds. Instead, let us all hope, for your sake, that the sidepiece doesn't get out of pocket and decide to come knocking.

and the biggest loser of 2008 is...

Oh O.J... Nine years? Really? Sigh. I swear there's never been a person that wanted to go to jail more than dumbass O.J. Some negores are simply exhausting.

You get off the hook. But instead of being grateful that God was asleep that day, you went back to snorting coke and beating on white women. Then you write a book on "how you would've done it, if you did it. And now, armed robbery in Vegas hotel room?

Talking about,"you didn't know it was wrong and you stand before the judge a little confused???? I'll bet you are, sweetie.

Johnny Cochran is straight turning over in his grave right now.

oh, so now you give me the side-eye...

We are officially in the end of days...

A black woman (that looks like a man) gave her (play-play) nephew to a (poor white trash) couple in CA to keep as a slave.

Apparently, the woman and teen came to live with the couple about a year ago. And while there were there, the "aunt" put the sixteen year old in shackles (I'm talking a chain around his ankle) and left him there for a YEAR. Among other unspeakable abuses, the teen was chained up in the living room starving while the couple and their 3 kids (btwn the ages of 1 and 9) sat and ate dinner across the room in the kitchen.

When asked why even participate in the abuse (the woman personally struck the teen in the knee with a bat 5 different times) cause apparently, she's so sorry (see photo). Old girl explained that she felt forced. Because wait on it... "she was afraid Ramirez (the aunt) would hurt her own children." Really? And you over the course of a YEAR, you never once thought to just put the transsexual looking psycho the hell out and call the cops?

Somebody light a candle.

i'm calling my cousin and the po-po....

Unfortunately, domestic violence is like SARS. It's just one of those things that no one ever sees coming. Like honestly, would you really get involved with a person if you could envision them smacking fire out of you or worse, leaving you dead in a ditch on the side of the road? Yeah, I didn't think so. But approximately 33 million people have found themsleves in that situation at least once in their lives. Since, it's clearly out of most of our control-and I say most b/c when dude tells you that he has anger management issues and you just giggle it off, then you know what you're signing up for-the $1,000,000 question is:

When it goes down, what are YOU gonna do?

I mean it's not like back in the day, when your parents could just step in or even better, your brother/ cousin would beat that butt and he'd never even think about looking at you again. Nowadays, not only are you on your own but you've also got to worry about this nonsense affecting your personal (cause neighbors are always good for the gossip) and professional life (God forbid crazy gets out of hand and he shows up at the job). JESUS.

I definitely understand why the 37% voted to handle the matter privately. It took a long time and a lot of energy to build your reputation and career. Whereas it only takes one incident and a few words in the wrong person's mouth to destroy everything. As long as you're physically okay and absolutely certain the person isn't going to come back to make your life a living hell, then it's probably natural to want to move on with your life. And quietly I'm sure many of you aren't calling the police is because you already called your dad/ brother/ thugged out cousin and his boys to man-handle that fool right quick.

However, I'm with the 62% of you who don't give a damn what the so-called stakes are. If it pops off; I'm calling the po-po, pressing charges AND seeing that mo-fo in court. So what if everyone whispers "you should've known better: or that "it's a such a shame" when I pass by. Like Elsa always says- that ain't nothing but nine days talk. Fingers crossed his butt will be sitting in a cell or on probation for a much longer period of time.

You know, what I've learned over the years is that I'm not an exception. If dude put his hands on me, there's a good chance he's hit before and will do it again afterwards. As much as I want him out of my life, I don't want him to get away with doing that to the next chick. Hopefully, a spot in the police blotter and a little jail time will make that fool think long and hard before getting physical with anyone's daughter/ sister/ neice/ BFF.

from 1 normal person to another...

True to my word, I did manage to watch the VS show last night. I must say, it was much, much better than I expected - even if I didn't get a glimpse of Karolina's missing belly button.

I liked the backstage action-especially when one model's costume zipper popped right 4 seconds before the finale and every damn body started freaking out. I am def loving the high-waisted undies. Although we should all be clear that w/o a flat tummy those will look crazy. And whomever that beautiful brown girl with the bangs is (Jessica White?), she's officially my new girl crush for '09.

Howsomever, as expected there were some undeniably questionable aspects to the broadcast- starting with like the ridiculous amount of Heidi Klum air time. Sure ole girl's English is much improved thanks to the past 4 seasons of Project Runway, but there is a reason she says all of five sentences per episode. And not to start no mess but am I the only one that noticed that Usher "I-only-sung-2-songs-but-I'm-dripping-in-sweat" Raymond was performing sans wedding band? Mmmm-hmmm, I'm just calling it like I see it. Oh and last but not least, I definitely could've done without the montage of models discussing the 'lamest pick-up lines guys have ever tried on them'. Talking about, "Just say hi, my name is.... A formal introduction never fails to impress. We're just like the normal people..." Really sweetie? Are you just like the normal people?

beauty is a beast...

Ummmmmm, does anyone else see what I see in this picture?

WTF? Where is Karolina Kurkova's belly button? EEEEWWWAA! You know what? All that damn money and you couldn't find a plastic surgeon that was able to save your belly button? No maam. Just give me a healthy dose of anorexia, cause the kid is not trying to explain the alien-ish that is her former belly button AT ALL.

Bet you'll be watching the Victoria Secret Show (tonight @ 10p on CBS) just to try and catch a glimpse....

god got jokes...

See now, yesterday I was feeling like a grouch and didn't want to post/email/ im/ do anything computer related. But this morning, I woke up on a mission to get to jabber jawing. And guess what? My Road Runner service was down. So I spent almost three hours of my life on the phone with the poor Time Waner rep trying to figure out what in the world was wrong with my internet connection. And just when the 'Level 3' rep (yes, I went through three whole levels of rebooting the computer, checking the IP address, plugging and unplugging the same two cords) was about to throw in the towel, back on it came!! You know what....

today feels like a monday...

Ever have those mornings where you feel cranky before you even get out of bed? Well, today was one of those days for me. I tossed and turned for a good hour before I finally dragged myself to the computer. And now I'm late for a meeting. Uuuggghhh. So all that to say, there is no new post- dammit.

Hopefully later will be better. In meantime, visit the site and vote in the poll.

age ain't nothing but a number...

Contrary to popular belief the reason I asked you guys what was the youngest age you'd consider dating is not because I'm trying to rationalize hooking up with a 21 year-old (been there, passed on that). Actually, it's because of a conversation I shared with my girl about an article that ran about a week ago in the NY Daily news. The story covered a 37 year-old Queens teacher who was fired because sleeping with a 17-year-old male model. Normally, I am very anti teachers of any age sleeping with their students (especially if she looks like this one/ see photo). But, I must say the specifics on that case are a tad suspect... the two initially met when he was twelve but they didn't have sex until he was sixteen. And the kid isn't exactly "a student" because he's been overseas working on various campaigns since middle school (read: dude only has a 7th grade education). But I as usual, I digress. So after hearing about all that drama and confusion, naturally I was curious how low you would go...

Surprisingly, 10% were actually willing to date someone in their early twenties. I must say, that's very admirable of you. Personally, I'm not so sure how long I could last with someone who hadn't been alive long enough to share my memories of the Force MDs, multi-colored scrunchi socks and bad jheri curls.

As expected, the majority of folks like myself (47%), said that they were willing to dabble in the late twenties dating pool. All you nonbelievers, go on and admit it, a little less common sense and a little more energy never really hurt nobody.

However, a whole 42% refuse to even consider anything below the 30 year mark. Really? So old? I mean, ain't that man-breast and beer gut territory nowadays? Don't you wanna live a little dangerously? I guess I can sorta see where the whole idea of building a foundation on mutual interests and shared intelligent conversation probably swayed that selection... there are going to be those slightly annoying periods of time when the two of you are doing more than having sex, right?

june 2008...

Today is World AIDS Day. When was the last time you got tested?

Nobody aspires to be the senseless tragedy. Be safe.

And even more importantly, be informed.

when pink toes attack...

Move over Shanna Moakler and Sara Palin, there's a new patron saint of poor white trash in town. It seems, Cindy Guyer, a model for covers of err-umm romance novels like "Rebellious Bride," allegedly attacked her estranged husband, Andrew Catapano's mistress at his fraud trial at Brooklyn federal court.

Apparently, the jump-off arrived before Cindy and seated herself in the front row of the court. When Cindy saw her, she immediately started cutting up ('cause old girl was what? out of her lane). And as soon as the court took a break, she ran and snatched homegirl up in the hall.

The best part is, if convicted of the husband is looking at 10 years. And call it intuition but my money says, not nam one of those broads is gonna be catching the gypsy van up to Sing-Sing for a conjugal visit.

Sigh, this might've just made my day.

you can't be serious...

Let me get this straight- Plaxico Burress, who just signed a five-year, $35 million contract this fall after helping the Giants win a Super Bowl championship last season, shot HIMSELF in the leg at the club this past Saturday night. HUH???

To make matters worse, dude already got caught trying to bribe the people that work in the club (where the shooting occured) and hospital to lie about what happened and his condition because drumroll please... he doesn't have a license to carry a concealed weapon. WTF???

All I can say is, Jesus please protect the babies and fools.

getting sentimental in my old age...

Was it just me or did the Thanksgiving holiday seem so much more meaningful this year?

Don't get me wrong, I am always thankful for the long weekend, opportunity to reconnect with relatives/ loved ones , long weekend, eat fantabulous food until I pass out and long weekend. But for whatever reason, this year, I found myself really reflecting on all the wonderful people in my life and being humbled by all the blessings that I;ve received over the past year.

And unlike the crazy folks in out in Long Island who trampled a man to death trying to get to the marked down 50' flat screen TV, it seemed like the vibe of most folks are happy to just have the basics-family, health and a freaking job. I must say, it's been fun times...

I can't wait to see what the New Year brings (read: holding my breath until January 20th).

first comes love, then comes...

According to 66%, if you had to choose between either never getting married or never having children, the next step is definitely the baby. It seems that procreating is way more important than forming a "perfect union." Interesting. Deep in my heart, I've always believed that true single parents (you know, the ones where there is no co-parent to be found AT ALL) are like the repo man in the hood, some of the most courageous people on the planet.

I on the other hand, like the not so courageous 33%, am gonna choose marriage sans babies.

And no, I did not choose this because I enjoy the luxury of walking around my crib in nothing more than a pair of cotton drawers on a sunny Saturday... I just think that at the end of the day, I'm not built for the whole single parent thing. I need help... A LOT of damn help. Like, therapist, nanny, housekeeper AND dutiful husband type of help. All that crying and dirty diapers and running amuck in the name of childhood- just thinking about it is enough to drive me to drink. Uh-uh, if it's gonna go down, I need the person that helped created the situation to bear his share of burden (read: a shoulder to tap in the middle of the night when the baby wakes up crying like a wild banshee. 'Cause you know Mommy needs her beauty sleep). Lord knows, I can barely get my life together, let alone raise a kid solo. No sir, we don't want that at all.

the nose knows...

I have a very delicate sense of smell. It's sensitive to the point where I tear up and act out over what might be considered to most as a barely perceptible odor. I am admittedly the chick sneaking sniffs of my own arm pits on a regular basis just because... And you know what, I'm okay with that.

Over the years, I've come to believe that my low tolerance is a result of being vertically challenged (read: short). Living life at arm pit level with the majority of folks makes me privy to a whole lotta stink that the average person at 5'7" might miss. ESPECIALLY when it's time to be upclose and personal, if you know what I mean. Needless to say, it's really interesting to me that 58% of you would prefer a partner who's entire body stinks versus the 41% who voted for a partner with a yuck mouth.

Perhaps it's because you plan keep them stocked with prescription strength Mitchum deodorant and clean shirts/ underwear.... True, I hear ya. But let me ask you this right quick- What happens at the end of the day, when they lay down on your 600 thread count sheets and get to snuggling up next to you??? EEEEWWWWAAAAA. And you know it's inevitable that you'll become guilty by association. Because how can a passing stranger tell that it's only him/ her that smells like sour milk when you're both sitting together? So what, you'll just pretend to ignore the folks when who move away from the two of you? Uh-uh, no thank you.

I think I'll just figure it out with the Mr. Yuck Mouth. Sure my purse will forever stay filled to the brim with packs of the dark blue brand of Extra gum (you know, the one that will burn a freakin' hole in your nose?) and peppermint candies. My life reduced to be scheduling trips to the dentist and internist every other week while wielding a tongue brush like a saber sword. I will even sacrifice the days of deep toe-curling kisses and instead learn to hold my breath as long as it takes to place the perfunctory pecks on the cheek while always, always sleep facing away. And even though I will also probably have to pretend that I don't see our mutual friends' eyes tearing up from the offensive stentch when my beloved one leans in to say hello; at least he will be allowed to sit near the rest of us.

i leave you alone for 5 min...

So after six wonderful days of kicking it with my girl Carmen (sans cell phone, radio or internet) in Belize, I'm back. And just what do you think is the very first news story that I read is about? Wait on it...

Some 19 year-old college student in Miami that committed suicide live on the web. Seriously? And apparently, not only did a bunch of people log on to watch this unfortunate fool pop the lethal dose of prescription pills, some of the sickos were actually cheering him on. My god. What kind of world are we living in?

But admit it, as soon as you read: "suicide", "live on the web" and "prescription pills," the first thing that ran through your mind was- "Rich white kids got too much damn time and access. They can't even kill themselves without an audience nowadays." Right? Well, don't feel bad. Me too. But don't you know, ole dude was a black guy named Abraham.... Damn shame. I blame Paris Hilton.

everybody has a thing...

And for those that know me, it's definately my birthday a.k.a Worldwide Mitzi Day!

So after kicking off my Jesus year celebration (if you don't know about that, you better ask somebody) with a fabulous night of dinner and dancing with the girls, I'm headed out of the country to keep my party going for the next week.

No worries, while I'm gone I'll be thinking of even more ridiculous moment mindset questions to leave you frustrated as all get out. And yes, when I get back we will definately discuss the 58% of you that want a partner who's entire body stinks versus the 41% who voted for a nice person with the yuck mouth.

Till then, don't forget to vote in this week's poll question! You've got seven days, make it happen!

Till then.....

time to ride out...

Well, lookee here- seems the saddlebags have it. A solid 63% would rather have (or date) a woman who bears the burden of stretch-marked saddlebags than deal with a noticeably flat butt. Mmm-hmm... I know that's right.

'Cause here's the thing, no matter how fantastic the 36% of your legs look, nothing in the world overrides flatback (just ask Paris Hilton or Cameron Diaz). There are no miracle jeans tight enough to hide the fact that your neck runs into your ankles. And I'm not even gonna go there with the bikini bottoms.... I mean what are you gonna do, keep your back to the wall your entire life? No sir. All I can do is wish you good luck and an interesting collection of thongs.

As for me and my saddlebags... Well, we'll be wearing Spanx and running on the treadmill until we straight collapse like Isaac Hayes- no offense. And if God forbid, that lifetime supply of Fatgirl Slim cellulite cream really doesn't make a difference, there's always dim lighting and dermabrasion.

rip old dirty bastard...

In an ideal world, no one would have to choose between love and a dream career. But as we've all learned from watching TMZ- ain't no such thing as a perfect world. No matter who you are...

With that said, I'm happy to report that romance is far from dead. A whopping 76% would choose finding the love of their lives over a dream career. Wow, I am very impressed. I guess my friend Melissa probably summed it up best when she said that she couldn't imagine a job fulfilling her as much as being with her soulmate. And you know, like my very happily married homegirl who left her own fabulous life in the big city to move to a distant CT suburb so patiently explained to me when I balked at her drastic lifestyle change, "I thought I had everything until I met him. And then nothing mattered as much." Feel free to insert the ooh, ahh and sigh. Don't you just heart love?

But I gotta tell ya when it's all said and done, I'm betting on Mitzi. Like the remaining 23%, I choose the career of my dreams all day every day. And it has nothing to do with believing that being wealthy will make me happy. Simply put, I'm not willing to depend on any so-called soulmate to "complete me." Uh-uh, my nerves are too bad for that. Besides, by now shouldn't we all understand the basic science of maintaining a happy home??? "When mama's happy, everybody's happy but when mama's ain't happy..."

I wholeheartedly believe that if I'm pursuing my true passion, I can love and be more than satisfied with whomever I'm with (as long as we're err-um physically compatible). Call me a control freak but the idea of waiting for the perfect person to experience the height of happiness is crazy. I'm all about making that happen now. Whenever Mr. Right shows up, he can join the party in progress (a.k.a get in where you fit in).

Disclaimer: This time around, I'm probably a bit bias because I really do LOVE my career (note: not a job)- annoying editors, stressful deadlines, check chasing and all. If I never ever, ever, ever get to be a nuevo black housewife with my nanny, maid and therapist dream team, I'll be sad but certainly still wake up every day happy to do me.

god don't like ugly...

You know what? Under normal circumstances, I would feel bad for any woman who is senselessly murdered by a group of strangers. But when you respond to an online KKK recruitment ad and then find yourself shot up and tossed under some bushes... well there's just not much I can do with that. No offense.

And the worse part? Investigators are saying that deranged loonies that did this aren't even a part of the "real" KKK (as if there are real and fake ways to be down with a hate group). As the Louisiana Parish Sheriff Jack Strain so kindly put it, "The IQ level of this group is not impressive, to be kind... This is not what I would call an established Klan group. Some of these guys are just crooks, sociopaths." Good grief.


Read the story and go thank your parents for the common sense they instilled within you.

on fire...

Who didn't see Michelle Obama's fly red dress yesterday??? I swear, Elsa called me mid-shift from the hospital all excited talking about, "Did you see the dress???" I could barely say hello before she blurted her question out. And for those who don't really understand, let me put it in perspective: My mother who probably should've been in the middle of helping somebody breathe while they were sedated had to take a moment to call and cut up about how dope The future first lady looked. How crazy is that???

If Barack thinks he's under pressure, god bless poor Michelle. She has been saddled with the hopes and dreams of every fashion conscious Black woman since she stepped out in that breath taking purple sheath/ black leather belt combo. Remember her KILLING homey ass Elisabeth on The View with the black and white dress?? Act don't like I'm the only one who wanted to back slap her and Narcisco Rodriguez for that unfortunate red and black number she wore last Tuesday night!! My god if it didn't feel almost sacrilegious to say anything negative about election night, folks would have been eating her ALIVE.

All along, through the various tie-dyed, flower on the collar, bows on her neck fiascos I've been keep my head down and praying that this was simply a deliberate decision to dumb down her fashion sense and not a sign of bad things to come. I could see the side eye she was giving when Barack said, "Baby, you know the coal miner's daughter don't know nothing about those Sergio Rossi stiletos. Can you just please do this for me? Pretty please??" She definitely took one for the team.

But today sisters are vindicated. Michelle aka the Black Jackie O is back with a vengeance. When Barack helped her out of the limo, tears came to my eyes. You can't tell me that Laura Bush wasn't looking like the ultimate Washed Out White Woman next to Michelle's statuesque 'Me and Mine's Are Straight Taking Over." And I'll bet President Bush was jealous as hell. Like, damn Laura why you ain't never, ever, ever look like that!!

I'm telling you, Barack and Michelle making Black women the fire everyday all day.

next stop nursing home...

It's official- we are getting old. And yes, I said WE.

42% of the folks can't remember the last time the magic happened in a public place. Can you imagine if I'd asked this question say... five years ago? I'm willing to bet 42% would've chosen the "this week" option (and yes, I'm including myself in that). Sigh, so sad.

Of course, the mature part of my mind wants to rationalize the change in direction as a positive thing. "Oh, it's because nowadys most of us have our own homes with expensive beds-sans parents-so we don't have to act up in public places AND not for nothing, have you seen how disgusting bathrooms in the clubs are nowadays??? Hooking up in public is so dead." But then.... the little voice in my head whispers, "Yeah right. That's just a politically correct excuse for being less spontaneous. Ain't nothing wrong with a little act up every now and then. You and your crew (well almost all of my crew) are just actin' like old biddies."

The reality is, if 25% of you guys were able to figure it out at some point in 2008, then the movement can't be completely over, right?

So hats off to the 5% who were able to make the magic happen this past month. I just hope that it wasn't on a park bench, playground swing, bathroom stall or backseat of a car that I'll be on anytime soon.

And as for the 25% who have never, ever, ever... God bless your hearts. Elsa is probably disowning me and recruiting a new eldest daughter after reading this post. Hee hee. Feel free to submit your applications.

next comes the ark...

Alrighty then... It seems the euphoria three-fourths of this country continues to experience after Obama's decisive victory last Tuesday night, doesn't necessarily extend to the rest of the world. Because yesterday afternoon over in Jerusalem a big ass brawl popped off inside of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher (alledgedly the spot where Jesus was crucified).
I'm talking tear down, drag out, beat 'em up fight that only ended when the Israeli police storm the holy site with machine guns and pulled folks apart. But wait on it, guess who was up in God's house throwin Ds like they were back at The Tunnel back in 1992???... Freaking monks!!!

Under normal circumstances I would ask Jesus to take the wheel. But for some reason, I feel like he may have left the building on this one. Read the story and light a candle.

all up in my head...

You know what? Folks do not play about their hair.

Whether it's long, short, weaved, permed or even natural, 68% weren't willingly to change up the 'do for anybody besides your damn self. And I am not mad atcha. Lord only knows what I go through to get my hair looking halfway decent and here you go. Talking about what YOU like. Uh-uh, no sir. Until you start ponying up the $250 a week for Edris to work her magic on this nappy head of mine... and even then. I have one thing to say: Mind. Ya. Business.

But, I commend the 31% of you who admit that you are open to the idea of changing up your hairstyle. Compromise is an important tool in relationship building. And there's no point in denying that most men have very distinct taste in hair and often decide who they will (or won't) date based on them. I see the vision. I just can't sip the Kool-Aid.

All tomfoolery aside, for most of us it's a bigger issue than how we choose to style our hair. I am not anti-change or compromise if it's gonna make my significant other happy. After all, it is just hair. It will grow back (we hope). I just think asking me to cut/grow/weave/perm my hair feels like a sly way of saying, 'Actually, I don't like the way you look.' And if that's how you really feel, then we probably need to re-evaluate our situation.

light a candle...

As I grow older, I become increasingly grateful for all the "hands-on" discipline that I learned from my parents. I truly believe all those close encounters with the leather belt, plastic spatula, shoe, or whatever else my mom and dad could get their hands on really made me a productive member of society. As for those who don't believe that a quick smack makes all the difference, I humbly enter exhibit A:

"Shout out to the slave masters! Without them we'd still be in Africa. We wouldn't be here to get this ice and tattoos" - Soulja Boy to journalist Toure when asked what historical figure he dislikes the most.

You see? That right there? That is a young man who CLEARLY does not respect the power of the wide leather belt or the twist and pull pinch on the back of your arm. Trust, you will never hear statements like that from those who truly understand the following equation:

"not thinking + stupid talk= big painful welts on your butt"

And to think, he said it to the press on the red carpet? I. Can't.

We have a long way to go my people...

press play...

It looks like the voyeurists have it- 57% were A-okay with being immortalized on video as long as you retained full custody of the tape (wait, are they even tapes nowadays?). And what can I say? If you like it, I love it. So by all means, go ahead and get your Paris on. I think it's fantastic that your self esteem is that unshakable. Just please be sure to try and tone those soft and squishy parts before hand to avoid unnecessary jiggle (if it's a spontaneous decision- dim the lights), DO NOT look into the camera (nothing says faked orgasm like having one eye open), and for god's sake find a safe hiding place for the memory cards (I'm thinking a bank safe deposit box is probably most appropriate).

In the meantime, until I completely forget all the hometraining that Elsa painstakingly instilled (with a very wide leather belt), I'm sticking with the 42% who don't need physical proof of our ability to turn it out. First and foremost because I genuinely believe memories are the best pictures (isn't it funny how you never remember the cellulite when reminiscing on good times?). But also because, as many of my friends know, I tend to be a bit of an overachiever. Which is fine when you're talking about work and team sports (who doesn't want to win?). But for something like this, not so much. Knowing myself, I'd wind up overanalyzing instead of appreciating the whole act. I can hear myself now: Do you think my back was arched enough? Does that color bra makes me look fat? Are my knees ashy?

Sigh, it's way too much pressure.

the real game changer...

YES WE DID!!!! YES WE DID!!!

I can barely type these words without tearing up. For the first time ever, I truly understand what people mean when they say they are proud to be American.

I guess I'll start by stating the obvious. From now on, there are NO excuses. We are "The Man." It's time for folks to step our game up. This is the window of opportunity generations of people before us dreamed of, shame on anyone who doesn't take FULL advantage of this moment. Get focused, the time is now.

But I do think there was a less obvious but just as important statement made last night. And so let me be the first to acknowledge and thank, Barack and Michelle for single handedly redefining the face of Black love. His shout out to her in his victory speech brought tears to my eyes.

I just hope that all the amazing Black men that I know who continue to insist that it's too difficult to date/love a strong Black woman were paying close attention. The most powerful man in this country just willingly acknowledged that he needed one of us by his side to make it through. Not as a jump-off, baby mama, home girl, etc but as his best friend, wife and the mother of his kids. Michelle is Barack's first choice.

And I can't just blame the guys. I take full responsibility for my some of my bad dating decisions and a lot of the ridiculous compromises that I have made over the years. But like my mom said, it was all fun and games... until today. I'm about to pull together forreal, forreal.



POP, POP, POP!!! That's the sound of the bottles party people! See you in DC on Jan 20th!!