i miss my cookies...

Ok, so for the umpteenth time I've started up this workout/ better living regiment thingy of mine. This time around in addition to eating healthier, I've committed to jogging from my apartment on 169th Street to the gym on 145th and then doing weights/ ab work to battle the buddha belly. And while in theory, there's this huge sense of accomplishment everytime I actually succeed at this feat, the reality is a lot less thrilling. To put it nicely, I feel like crap.

My body is all achy. My skin feels extra tight and my stoopid sports bra hurts my right shoulder like a bee-yatch. It's gotten to the point I can barely walk the dog around the block. And lord have mercy, I'm so tired. It's all I can do to stay awake surign the workday. And for those that've called around 1.30p, I'm prob not awake. But I think that worse part is that I'm cranky as I don't know what. All this damn excercise does not make me half as happy as a a bag of Chips Ahoy Chocolate Chip Cookies.

Let's keep it real- the ONLY thing stopping me from quitting is that I'm too damn cheap to buy a whole new wardrobe. Cuteness kills.

it's never that hot...

We are offically living in the end of days...
So apparently there's a chlorine resistant parasite that's contaminating water parks and pools nationwide. It's called cryptosporidium, aka crypto. It can make you sick for up to two weeks with nausea, vomiting, headaches, stomach cramps and diarrhea. But wait on it... the parasite lives in fecal matter. Which means the water is being contaminated by babies pooping in the pool, people not properly wiping their butts after taking a dump and kids with diarrhea getting into the water. EEEEEEWWWWWWWAAAA!!!!!!

Check out the tips that the CDC recommends to reduce contamination:


Tips for All Swimmers
1. Don't swim when you have diarrhea.
2. Don't swallow pool water.
3. Shower before swimming and wash your hands after using the toilet or changing diapers.
Tips for Parents
1. Take kids on bathroom breaks or check diapers often.
2. Change diapers in a bathroom and not poolside.
3. Wash children thoroughly, especially near the rear end, with soap and water before swimming.

I have always been a little squemish when I see a kid or worse a baby swimming in a pool. But this is like a straight, 'what's grosser than gross' joke.
Read it for yourself:
http://news.aol.com/health/article/pools-and-water-parks-battle-parasite/109851?icid=200100397x1206841344x1200352618

so much for that bright idea...

One of my many dreams is to own a beautiful, spacious three bedroom condo on warm-weathered waterfront property. I've been reluctant to narrow it down to a specific city because I like the two front runners-Florida and Claifornia-almost equally. But after today's earthquake.... Um not so much. 5.4 magnitude? No maam, you can keep that. I got enough crap to worry about...

Like the AIDS rate among African-Americans rivaling that of certain African COUNTRIES. What in the world?? According to a new report released today and reported on by CNN; "if black Americans made up their own country, it would rank above Ethiopia (420,000 to 1,300,000) and below Ivory Coast (750,000) in HIV population. Both Ethiopia and the Ivory Coast are among the 15 nations receiving funds from the President's Emergency Plan For Aids Relief." Are you serious?

The report goes on to highlight a 24 year-old woman who contracted AIDS at the age of 19. She said she contracted the virus the one time she had unprotected sex with her boyfriend. They were in a monogamous relationship. I. Can't.

Please read the article for yourself and then go buy that economy pack of condoms. 'Cause the way things are going, folks are really going to have to start doubling up:

http://www.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/conditions/07/29/black.aids.report/index.html?eref=rss_latest

i'm a worthless blogger...

I can't believe it's been damn near a week since the last post. And no, I don't even have a good vacay to blame it on this time. Basically, I've been running around like a chicken without a head since last Thursday: Getting my apartment together (Yes, I mopped that damn kitchen), watching George Michael in concert (the world's biggest coming-out-the-closet tour), shopping with Elsa (nothing better than a day at Target with your mom), kicking it with friends I haven't seen in weeks (I missed my Sharae), spending money I don't have (what recession?) and procrastinating on work that I should've been done (I will finish this godforsaken article on Robin Thicke before I pick my aunt up at the airport tomorrow).

Why is twenty-four hours never enough?

maybe i'll eat in the bathroom...

Omigod, I hate housecleaning. It is seriously, the bain of my existence. Perhaps the only room in the apartment that I don't mind cleaning is my bathroom. And that's only because the upstairs neighbor's illegal washing machine hook-up occasionally backs up their dirty laundry water in my tub. So just to be safe, I clean my tub at least every three days. (And it's like, if I'm gonna do the tub; I might as well do the toilet, sink, mirror and floors. Right?)

Anyhoo, I removed everything from my kitchen OVER a week ago under the guise of mopping the floor. You know that floor still hasn't been cleaned? Aargh. Two huge bags of dog food, a tall trash can, broom, mop and bucket are now cluttering up my entrace hallway. It's crazy.

Normally, Drama sleeps by the front door during the day. I swear she's been giving me nothing but side-eye ever since I put all the crap in her chill out area.

Can you imagine? Not only do I feel guilty for being lazy, I'm also getting attitude from my dog. I can't...

get the popcorn ready...

So tonight is the first of the two-part CNN Special Black In America: a documentary exploring the current state of African Americans in United States. And since I still don't have TIVO the first, I will be sitting my black behind down to watch it. Not that I need Soledad to tell me that there's a lot of work to be done in our community but it will be interesting to see what messages about our community are being given to mainstream America this year. Cause you know, there's a damn investigative special on Black folks every year. Okay? I guess the big question is, after we watch this and talk about it to death, exactly what are we going to do?

There's an online component fot those of you who want to be heard:
CNN.com/blackinamerica

my own damn fault...

All I can say is- the devil is a busy man.

My mini-me Latoya is getting married next spring (I think) which is great. I'm really happy for her and her fiance Dre, they make a great couple, deserve all the happiness in the world, yada-yada-yada.

How-some-ever, since this is her second stroll up the aisle (sometimes a do-over is very necessary) little Miss Toya has decided to break with tradition and have the sexy all-white wedding in the islands. Emphasis on the sexy. As a bridesmaid (please don't ask me how in the world I got roped in to this foolishness. You know I DON'T do wedding parties.) I have been asked to find a short, tight, white dress that's hot enough to be interesting but not scandalous enough to cause a scene. I know, I know but wait on it...

But the reason I'm really mad is because I actually found the perfect dress. This short, strapless Nanette Lepore number that was even in the correct price range. But don't you know, my procrastinating ass waited 24 hours to place the order. And so, by the time I logged on they were completely out of my size! I almost threw up in my mouth. And to make matters worse, I started trying to talk myself into believing that all dress aren't cut the same and with a little stretch who says that I can't fit into a size 10? Oh and you know I ordered the ten, right? Sigh. I 'm an idiot.

who would've thunk it...

It's still really surreal to me when I look up and see people that I've known for YEARS making these huge leaps of progress: major promotions, getting married, buying houses and having kids. It's like wait a sec, weren't we just sitting in our work cubicles talking ish about how turning 25 made us feel SO old like two seconds ago?

Perfect example- my girlfriend Kenya (affectionately known as Ken-Ken) and her fantastic artsy boyfriend Matt (one of my top five my favorite pink toes) invited a couple of folks over for an impromptu dinner party at their newish spot in BK (well it's new for Kenya... She's been a super fly Harlem chick since I adopted her almost seven years ago). Anyhoo, as I'm sitting there sipping Kenya's signature sweet tea and talking boys with our mutual friend Nana, I suddenly had a moment where I realized just how dope my girl really, really is.

Not only has my Ken-Ken managed to remain one of the nicest, most generous and hilarious people I know despite her fair share of hard knocks (and Lord knows NYC can be hard on the "nice" ones), she also just got promoted to Global Style Director for all of Metro Newspaper-which may be be the new, free newspapers here in the States BUT actually has a very longstanding and reputable history in Europe. In less than a month, she's leaving me (GULP) heading to London (with her man in tow) to pursue her dream of living abroad and working in fashion. How sick is that?

Every time I think about how things have pulled themselves together for Ken, I am so encouraged. It's like everything is possible if you claim it. Lord, let me go get my copy of The Secret immediately!

cut the waterworks...

Good grief, Elisabeth Hasselhoff is EXHAUSTING with all her damn crying!! She's such a Republican bully! Always picking a fight with someone 10 times as intelligent as she is and then when she can't win with logic, she goes for the tears. But apparently this time she picked the wrong black woman to try that bullcrap with. Here's what had happened:


Little Miss Elisabeth jumped up on her soapbox about how black people shouldn't use the n-word beacause "it perpetuates stereotypes and hate." So Whoppi immediately countered the silly rhetoric with, "We use it the way we want to use it." THEN because Elisabeth is always going hard for the entitled white woman who don't know when to back down, she says, "we all live in the same world." At this point, it's safe to say KNOW Whoopi was DONE. And she proceeded to get all up in that crack and shut whiny-ass Elisabeth down with, "We do live in different worlds. You don't understand." Can the church say AMEN?


Oh and for the record, even Babs had enough of little Miss Elisabeth temper tantrums. She jumped in on the discussion and hit Elisabeth with the old school "You're not listening, you're just talking" line your parents used to say when they were sick of the very sound of your voice. So funny...

finally forreal must-see tv...

Ok, so I have a new guilty TV pleasure. It's called The Baby Borrowers. It's on NBC, every Wednesday at 9/8c. You heard it here first- you MUST watch this weekly train wreck.

The hilarious and often painful to watch reality show centers around five different teenage couples who I have to assume think/ thought they're ready to be married and start a family (You know I didn't see it from the beginning b/c I was what? Working.). There's Jordan & Sasha/ the Black teens who assumed that b/c they help raise their brothers and sisters they know everything until they meet the bad ass WHITE kids; Daton &Morgan/ the skater kids who barely bathe let alone remember to make the kid brush his teeth for three days; Kelsey & Sean/ the All-American couple where she like the majority of Middle America is already obsese; Kelly & Austin/ the Southern couple whose traditional values come crashing down when she realizes that she's not cut out to be a stay-at home mom; Alicia & Cory/ the Latino couple who are straight hood. She's so busy putting on her extra thick eyeliner she leaves an infant completely unattended.

The couples are put up in their own house and given children of different ages (starting with babies under one all the way up to teenagers and finally, the elderly) to take care of for three-day intervals. All I can say is Jesus be a bad ass two year-old who won't stop throwing temper tantrums. Then to throw in a little twist; one of them had to leave the house every day to go to work at a minimum wage job (read: picking up dog poop at the dog shelter).

For the record, I laughed until I cried last night. These poor kids who were so in love and excited to be able to 'play house' were straight falling apart and turning on one another like rabid animals. TOM FOOLERY AT IT'S BEST.

But not for nothing, I give them credit. I KNOW that at 17 years old (shoot truth be told at 32 years old) I wouldn't have lasted past the first 24 hour period. All that crying, fussing and smart talk from those kids? And the only thing I can do is put you in time out? No sir. Ain't no way in the world somebody's kid wasn't gonna get snatched up in the armpit on national TV and lifted off the ground 'till the backchat stops. I'm just saying.

stingy friends...

Don't you hate it when someone you've been cool with for like FOREVER "all of a sudden" remembers to mention that they have a fine-ass looking brother/ cousin/ friend??? Like somehow or the other, they forgot that they were related to a handsome, intelligent, personable, AVAILABLE black man that wait on it... actually prefers to date women of color. Sigh.

Anyhoo, this is my boy's brother Sanchez Stanfield. He's one of the many interesting men featured in ESSENCE's annual Do Right Man issue.

Go to http://www.essence.com/ and vote for him as your pick for week two. He's under the subtile- The Artists. And no, I haven't the slightest clue what he'll win but with a face like that, who really cares?

jj is coming...

So by my own doing, this Saturday afternoon I'm gong to babysit my genius (see earlier post for proof) godson John Jr. Now for those of you who know me, this is HUGE. I do not, I reapeat, I do not mess with children. If you can't clearly explain to me what's bothering you, what you need and how I can make it better then I am a hopeless mess. Hence, I can only blame my offer to watch JJ on my own without supervision (that'd be supervision of me) on some unexplainable surge of hormones. Fingers crossed, it won't happen again dammit.

OK, JJ's arrival is four days away and I'm already a complete wreck. I'm looking around my one-bedroom apartment and trying to figure out how in the world there's going to be enough space for me, Drama and a three year old boy. You know my anti-social dog requires her own room at all to herself. Not to mention, his mom has him on this healthy food regiment... Something tells me Minute Maid friut punch, Doritos and a Happy Meal don't exactly fit the menu.

Worse comes to worse, I guess I'll take him next door to play with my neighbor's crazy grandson Nathanial. Who at the ripe young age of five is showing all the marking of a future corner boy- god bless his heart. But hey, you're never too young to learn how to shoot dice and swear in Spanish, right?

so this is satire...

There are no words. For the record, I generally hold the New Yorker in high regard. However, this cover has really caused me to pause and rethink that. What's worse, the pundits now saying that Obama and his camp are being sensitive. They feel Obama should have embraced the cover. Apparently, he was wrong to come out so strongly against it and instead should laughed it off.

Um I'm so sorry, what is there to laugh about?

you can't be serious...

Good grief, our country's politicians are so screwed up its painful to pay attention. But the moment you don't, another basic right is ignored, manipulated or plain taken away. So I started off my first day back from the Bahamas by reading the NYT article about Charlie Rangel and his not one, not two but FOUR adjoining rent stabilized apartments on the TOP floor of a luxury high rise in the heart of Harlem. Why in the world Charlie Rangel deserves four rent stabilized apartment (Let me put it in perspective: he pays all of $3,894 a MONTH for his FOUR apartments. That's exactly $973.50 per apartment) when there is a waiting list a mile long for affordable housing is beyond me. Adding insult to injury, the kind Senator called a press conference outside of his luxury building where he insisted that he didn't realize that the special rent rate he was receiving was illegal (Really? The I-didn't-know defense? That's the best you got?). Oh and not for nothing, the New York Times needed to mind its business. End quote. Oh Charlie sit down.

Then Jesse, Al, Charlie, et al. wonder why the younger generation has no respect or regard for all the hooping and hollering?

Read it for yourself:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/12/nyregion/12rangel.html?th&emc=th

r.i.p billy...

So this week has been full of ups and downs. On Monday, I celebrated the 10-year anniversary of my liver transplant, which needless to say, was quite the milestone. Then on Tuesday, Billy the resident crackhead in my building that scared away the pink toes/ worked as the ghetto porter for beer money passed away from terminal cancer (who knew addicts die of cancer?). On Wednesday night, I went to my girl Danyel Smith's bday party and saw damn near everyone I've ever worked with as a journalist. Then Thursday was such an old school crappy work day, I felt like I was back at JANE. And just when I started contemplating a career change/ moving back home with my mom, today is the 4th of July! YEAH BBQS!!!!

If I've learned nothing else from living in New York City is that you can't judge a crackhead by his can of malt liquor, Black media is all of 2 degrees of seperation and every day is another opportunity to start over. Thank god for that, huh?

Now here's hoping the liquor stores are open so that I can cop a bottle of Grey Goose and be on my way. Happy Holiday Weekend!

i felt like a mary kay rep...

So this past Saturday, my mom's co-worker/ homegirl Sheila organized this meet-n-greet/ booksigning at her house out in Ozone Park for me to hustle my books. Always up for an adventure (cause God only knows where Ozone Park is in relation to my apt in Washington Heights), me and my mom packed up the Volvo, grabbed the extra vague directions that Sheila gave her at work (no, I don't own a Garvin) and rode out.

Okay, seriously? I had so much fun. Like the kinda fun where you're completely exhausted and all you've done is sit around, talk mess with grown folks, and eat all night. And please believe, the food poppin'.

Everyone was so funny and nice. Asking questions and talking about THE ABW GUIDE TO LIFE, THE VOW & HOTLANTA- like they really cared about my couple of books. And then, at the end of the evening, they actually bought the product!! Like several copies and whatnot. SIGH. Nothing says love like a receipt of purchase.