i prefer to watch the needle enter the skin...

Unless there's a really good reason, I've never been one of those people who cuts off an ex after the romantic aspect of the relation ship fizzles out.  Call me crazy but the way I see it is- why throw the baby out with the bath water? Clearly there was something about the person that I liked to begin with if we ended up sleeping together. So why stop speaking  just cause we're not meant to be.

That said, I am still extremely close with a couple of my exs.  And when I say 'extremely close,' I mean it like, don't be surprised if they're throwing rice at my wedding.  These select few continue to be some of my closest confidants and sounding boards (trust, there are few people that'll keep it as real than those who have seen you naked with the silk head scarf on- okay?)

But here's my thing- how do you tell the new Mr. Right that you and the old boo are still down like 4 flat tires.  Cause trust, the whole- "oh that's just my ex calling the land line" answer does not, I repeat, does not go over well with black men.

For a moment, I was thinking that I'd just invite the ex-BF to the dinner with the current significant other.  But let's just say, that moment lasted right up until I saw the tepid response in a poll I posted a while ago... 

According to that, only 26% of you guys support the whole let's-break-bread movement. Really??? You don't think that if there's really nothing romantic left between you and an ex that 's a part of your life, you can bring him around the new man?  Sigh.  that's so frustrating.  'Cause when it's all said and done, doesn't that translate to shadiness on the part of the 73% who insist that nothing good can come out of the gesture???  

Think about it, theoretically the new BF and I would have dinner with any other friend of mine-girl or guy... So why be different with this friend just because it's a guy that I used to be intimate with.  Isn't the past the past? 

I'm just saying. Personally, I would MUCH rather sit across a table from this woman so that I could gauge for myself what's really hood.  

and it don't stop...

So the morning after the wedding, I was so exhausted there are no words to describe.  You know that borderline hysterical, everything hurts from the ends of my matted hair to the chipped tips of my toenails type feeling? Where you really, really wanna cry but there's no rational reason to do so?  Yeah, that's where I was with it. 

But since it was my BFFs fantastic 44th birthday, I had to drag my ass down to APT to help her properly ring in another year.  And lemme tell you, Joan Morgan is beyond. She was working the most scandalous sequined mini and wearing down the dance floor like it was the 80s. Shoot, if this is how good it's gonna look 10 years from now I can't wait. 

the bottom of shoes worn once should never ever, ever look like this...

It's official-  Toya & Dre's Super Sexy Second Wedding is a wrap!  Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I am free at last!  No more multiple dress fittings, late night invitation stuffing, frantic shoe shopping, last minute make-up appointments or drama-filled weather report watches to endure.  

Mr. & Mrs. Brown are safely in Thailand (making up for the 60 days of abstinence that crazy ass Toya insisted upon 'to make it feel like the first time all over again') and my feet are still soaking in a bucket of ice cold water (who knew it was humanly possible to stand/dance for 7.5 hours in a pair of 4 in stilettos?)

Oh and yes, with the help of a whole lot of prayer and sticky tape, the dress managed to stay up and over most of the boobs all night long. Ain't God good? 

here comes the bride...

PRAISE God there are less than 48 hours until Toya & Dre's freaking wedding!!!  My goodness, this whole bridesmaid dress situation has been a NIGHTMARE. Exhale. Got me feeling like a broke-down Keyshia Cole singing, 'I jus' want it to be OVAAAA!'  

No offense.

Forget the fact that I've been existing in a perpetual state of hunger for the last 6 weeks, why has it taken SIX freaking fittings to get a "custom-made" dress to fit properly?? Seriously?? , I'm a need you to do a little better dude.  Cause beyond the $250 for a dress that I won't ever wear again, you're wasting MY TIME.  

SIX times over the past EIGHT weeks, I've had to stop any and everything that I was doing and DRAG my ass down to midtown and below (because after the 4th attempt, it required a totally different tailor to execute the necessary damage control) from Washington Heights,.  For those who aren't familiar with NYC, that's about 120 blocks or a 40 min trip. Mind you, as I type this post the dress is not in hand. I still have to go pick it up for the shop.  Uh-huh, one word: beyond.

Jesus be the open bar reception.  'Cause Lord, I can't do it in my right mind...

like nino at the carter...

Um, I'll tell you where yours truly WON'T be going on vacation any time soon- Phoenix, AZ. Uh-huh, no thank you.  Not as long as the city is averaging ONE KIDNAPPING A DAY. Shiiiiiit. Can you imagine?

According to police reports, folks are being snatched out of their homes in broad daylight and tortured Hollywood style (they tried to cut one victim's ear off, blowtorched his back and sodomized him with a pair of scissors) for some ransom money. Lord haf mercy.

The tricky part of the equation is that only a third, maybe less of the city's kidnappings are reported because the cases are normally criminal-on-criminal.  The victims are generally smugglers, drug dealers or illegal immigrants. Sigh. Call me a punk but, I'd rather sit my ass in lockdown box for 25 years than have someone blowtorch my back.

But what makes my nerves bad are the senseless tragedies.  Like the 13-year old girl that was on her way to play basketball with a friend when she was mistaken for a drug dealer's niece. Apparently, the kidnappers snatched her from the middle of a 'quiet' suburban neighborhood. Thankfully, she was eventually returned to her parents.  The report describes her as being relatively unharmed. Err-um, what the hell is "relatively unharmed"???

I'm telling you, it's poppin' off like the 80s out there.  Not fresh, at all party people.

blah, blah, blah...

Maybe its just the mood that I'm in but, doesn't it kinda seem like the celeb gossip blogs are EXTRA boring nowadays? 

Like seriously, I used to live for the insane and totally inappropriate photos on Perez Hilton, Dlisted, The YBF, Crunk & Disorderly, etc but now.... Not so much. 

First of all, its all too clear that certain Z-listers  (yes, I'm talking to you Christina Milian) will attend the opening of a damn tuna can just to have their picture taken on a red carpet.  Then, lemme ask you this- do you really give a damn what Kim Kardashian or Teairra Marie wore to go buy a cup of coffee this morning? Didn't think so.  Realistically, how many times can a nipple slip, crotch shot, "mysteriously leaked" sex tape or private photo collection be remotely shocking? Yawn.

I guess I just wish celebs would go somewhere and WORK.  Um hello, we're in a freaking recession. Shouldn't you be in a studio or auditioning for a new TV show or something?

not red carpet ready...

Hmmm... did anyone watch that documentary 'Farrah's Story', aka the Farrah Fawcett Death Watch last Friday night? Anyone? Anyone?  Anyone?

Yeah, me neither. And it's terrible, 'cause back in the day I used to L-O-V-E me some Charlie's Angels.  But on the forreal, forreal, I can't get  into the idea of watching someone with a terminal disease suffer to death. Been there done that, err-um no thank you.

Granted, I totally sympathize with the whole need to call attention to the lack of resources available to fighting colorectal/ anal cancer any way possible.  But have we as a people become so desensitized to tragedy and death that an angel has to puke her guts on the camera for folks to give two cents? 

Jesus be a bit a of home-training... just a little bit.

the joy of indoor plumbing...

You know there are a lot of things that just ain't clean in the milk with folks living in this country. Yeah, yeah don't even front.  We all know that Americans definitely contribute to our fair share of tomfoolery (i.e the group of punk ass white boys that savagely beat and killed a Mexican immigrant for kicks in Texas). But I gotta tell ya, even if this isn't necessary the land of milk  & honey that my parents imagined it  to be when they moved here from Panama, it SURELY beats the hell outta living next to sewage drain in Mumbai, India.  Mmm-hmmm... And that's exactly where Azharuddin Ismail, the nine year-old star of the not one, not two, not even  five, but EIGHT Oscar award-winning film Slumdog Millionaire has been chilling with his family since returning from the red carpet 3 months ago.

But wait on it... why did the government literally tear down his home the other day?  Talking about, "the 'town' (which is really just a group of families living in shanties attached to a drain) was squatting on government property."  And with monsoon season around the corner, the drains needed to be cleaned out so they BULLDOZED everyone's shit. Yep, just like that. 

Mind you, when they first came under scrutiny for the squalid conditions that these kids were going to have to return to after all the glitz and glamour of being big Hollywood and Bollywood star for a season, everyone promised them the world.  Specifically, the same gov't that kicked in their tent flap, assured them that they would be moved to a house. Err-um, guess that didn't happen, huh?

So basically, months being called a national hero and going to visit Mickey at Disneyland this kid is homeless.  SMH.

Jesus take the wheel, I'm jumping out here.

12 is the new 3 in dog years...

See now, I'm already in a mood.... 

Because I have to take Drama to see the vet this afternoon. And everybody that knows me understands that I am HIGHLY sensitive when it comes to my damn geriatric dog. 

So aside from the fact I'm certain to be at LEAST $300 poorer for today's experience; I'm super nervous that the doctor is gonna tell me something I don't wanna hear. Like, "No Ms. Miller the weakness in her hind legs that occasionally requires you to lift her onto the standing position is not just her trying to be stubborn."  Sigh. Pray for me ya'll.  Not sure I can make it without that mutt...

But THEN, I was perusing The YBF and noticed a post detailing Rick Ross's feeble attempt to prove that his sunglasses aren't fake. WTF??  Did you not read the letter that the white boys sent XXL? Or better yet, CAN YOU NOT read the letter the white boys sent?? 'Cause it sure seemed pretty straightforward to me and all the millions of other literate folks laughing at you and your stylist's dumb asses.

But wait on it... here's the actual  explanation: 

Rick bought the sunglasses from Louis Vuitton. But afterwards, he had them customized. (Feel free insert blank star and three blinks.)  

Negro, are you serious right now? This ain't no car!  Don't nobody get a pair of damn sunglasses TRICKED OUT. What, was you gonna put SPINNERS on them too? I. Can't. Officer Ricky will you and your frugazzy, Dade County swap-meet special  sunglasses puh-lease move from my eyesight?  And not now, but RIGHT NOW!

who the electric chair is made for...

I'm almost embarrassed to admit it but the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have gone on so long, I'm almost completely numb to the continual horror stories on the evening news.  Which is probably why I didn't pay attention to any of the details in the most recent tragedy at a clinic in Camp Liberty in Baghdad when five soldiers were murdered... Honestly, I simply assumed that it was another terrorist's bombing. But this morning, I learned that it was actually an American soldier that killed his fellow soldiers. SMH.

But wait on it...  Folks sensed that this guy was a loose cannon. Mmm-hmm... Not only was he on his THIRD tour of duty (which already tells you something) but apparently, Sgt. John M. Russell had just been ordered to turn in his gun and undergo counseling by his commanding officer because of erratic stress-related behavior.  

So essentially, while he was at said mandatory counseling appointment, he lost his shit, wrestled the gun away from his escort (yeah, homeboy required an armed escort to the clinic) and shot the hell outta every damn body in the place. Sigh.

Oh and the main reason he was so stressed out?  According to his father, "he had fallen in debt paying his $1,500-a-month mortgage... and he thought they were trying to push him out of the service." 

Seriously? You're gonna kill five innocent people who are just minding their business because of a mortgage payment that costs less than most people's rent in NYC?  No sir, there's got to be a better way...

Uncle Sam please come get your psycho nephew.

the toes are so ready...

I'm so excited for the summer! Despite the fact that I have not one but two weddings to attend (and suck the life out of my entertainment budget), I am really really trying to spend more time enjoying myself this go 'round.

So first things first, I started researching vacay spots... I considered the Essence Music Festival but eh, not so much for me this year.  It's too late to get decent tickets to the concerts and not for nothing, I really don't want to pay $500 to fly into New Orleans. No offense. So I'm thinking about Barbados or some other small Caribbean island.... anywhere that the sun is hot, the beaches are clean and the water warm will work wonders for the kid.

Next, I got a hold of the NYC City Parks Foundation free concert schedule.  Okay seriously, this might be one of the best summers we've had in YEARS.  Lisa-Lisa, Slick Rick, Big Daddy Kane, Chrisette Michelle, Naughty by Nature, Joe and a DJ Premier v. Pete Rock battle? And let us not forget the outdoor movie screenings. Can you say, Purple Rain under the hazy NYC summer twillight sky?  I'm done!

Cue the 90 degree temps and let the tomfoolery begin!

he's not the boss of me...

Okay Rick Ross, first you're outted as a fake drug lord and now you've been caught wearing the frugazzy Louis Vuitton sunglasses on the cover of XXL?? I am D-O-N-E. 

Um Officer Ricky, I'm gonna need you to go sit down somewhere and be quiet. 

Cause what you know about Louis Vuitton sending XXL magazine the xtra, xtra nasty letter about their recent cover?  It's so unbelievable, I have to post the notice/ pinktoe pimp slap:

Dear Editor:

We were dismayed to see the cover of the May 2009 issue of XXL Magazine, which features a photo of Rick Ross wearing a pair of sunglasses prominently featuring counterfeit Louis Vuitton trademarks. Because the photo has generated considerable confusion among your readers and Louis Vuitton customers among others, we feel it is important to clarify several points.

The first is that the sunglasses Mr. Ross is wearing were not made by Louis Vuitton, and in fact, are counterfeit. Louis Vuitton did not grant permission to Mr. Ross or to whoever did make the sunglasses to use our trademarks. The second is that no affiliation, sponsorship or association exists between Rick Ross or XXL and Louis Vuitton. The third is that counterfeiting is illegal.

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to correct the confusion.

Sincerely,

Michael D. Pantalony, Esq.
Louis Vuitton Malletier

Mmm-hmm, Jesus be the whiteboys that STAY lawyered up.

But seriously? What kinda shitshow are they running over there? Never in my nine years of journalism have I heard of someone wearing bootleg name brands on a freaking COVER. I mean sure, you can try and sneak it in a video but on a magazine cover? One that's gonna sit on a newsstand for 5 weeks?  And worse, people can take with them into the store?  (Cause you know that's how they got caught, right?  Pookie and all his boys bumrushed their local LV store with cover in hand talkin' bout, "We want dis right 'ere." 

And as further proof XXL's situation is 1-800-over, the mag's website won't allow folks to leave comments about or ping the post. DAYUM.

Unless... and you know this is just my conspiracy mind at work here but bear with me... What if the editors put him on the cover with the Canal Street special on purpose???  Uh-huh, yeah. You know, as a subliminal way of calling him a fraud??  Almost to say, if this fat fool really knew anything about the LV lines, he'd have known that he wasn't rocking the real stuff?? 

No? Not so much? What you say? I'm over thinking it? Oh well, can't say I ain't try to  help our folks out... NEXT. 

my bed is mad at me...

Since the summer is (eventually) coming, I've decided to try and start my workdays a little earlier... as in four hours earlier.  Um yeah, you read that right.  The "I don't use an alarm clock" queen is about to get it popping at 6am in the morning.  Feel free to stop laughing any time now... Cause I'm so forreal.  I see my friends with kids do it all the time, so I figure what the hell?  

This way I can actually go to bikram regularly (instead of just giving them my $115 a month), walk poor Drama before 3 o'clock in the afternoon (any day now she's gonna call the ASPCA on my ass) and most importantly, spend more time trolling the headlines for news that makes you go hmm... Like the review of Tuesday night's season premiere of the Real Housewives of New Jersey.  Which apparently left the reviewer from the NY Daily News thinking, "Good Lord, what a piece of trash. That was great!" Err-umm yeah, I will so be watching. Or better yet, how Rihanna's people are cracking down on blogs that posted the alleged naked photos of her. But wait on it... not denying that the photos are of her.  Insert huge sigh.  

Of course, I am going to need your prayers in this endeavor because I don't even know what six o'clock in the morning looks like let alone to be getting up and trying to function.  So light a candle,  yours truly is about to get focused.

do it for the kids...

So I'm getting ready to head to CHI and can I just say, my god, I hate packing.  

No matter how early I begin, I always wind up having to rush around at the last minute for something I almost forgot.  So damn stressful. Not to mention all the cleaning that has to go on before I can step a foot out the door.  'Cause there ain't no way Elsa's daughter is leaving a dirty bathroom, dishes in the sink or trash in the crib while she's on the road. No maam.

But I shall not complain, because aside from the crazy weather I do love me some Chicago. Aaannd (drumroll please)- thanks to the unbelieveable success of the HOTLANTA series in the Chicago Public Schools, Denene and I have been invited to be recognized and participate as the keynote speakers at the 2009 Mayor Daley's Book Club Spring Conference. Woo Hoo!! Go Mitzi, it's ya birthday!  Go Denene, get busy!!

So think good thoughts, pray I don't forget to pack the right bra and I'll holler at ya'll next week. 

karma is a 4-legged female...

Damn Elizabeth Edwards! Why don't you tell us how you really feel about your husband's affair, mistress and the illegitimate daughter he now has??

Seriously, how many years has it been since the former Senator John Edwards dropped outta the presidential race because his mistress came forward with his love child? And his ole girl still ain't ready to let it go?? Hmm, guess the answer to that question would be a resounding HELL NAW since she's written an entire book about her husband's messy extra-marital affair and how it basically obliterated his entire political career (under the guise of being an inspirational self-help guide, of course).

But wait on it... now she's making rounds in TIME magazine and on Oprah's couch to throw John even further under the bus; I mean, promote her new project. Hee-hee. Talking about, “I’ve seen a picture of the baby. I have no idea. It doesn’t look like my children, but I don’t have any idea.” Um, did she just call that woman's child, IT???

Damn, that's cold.

On the forreal, forreal, I feel horribly for Elizabeth Edwards. I can't imagine what it must be like to discover that your husband is cheating on you with some no-count, golddigging, bottle-blonde while you're trying to beat breast cancer. And then the whole messy situation is played out in the headlines? Yikes, no thank you.

But not for nothing... if she's still so pissed, why stay? White woman in distress, don't you know the whole world belongs to you? Pack yo shit, get your child and bounce. Otherwise ma, go sit down. Whatever you do, please stop hatin' on the side-piece- it just make you look bitter. And Lord knows you already look like the cryptkeeper besides that man; no offense.

i'll bet she killed JR...

In yet addition of 'White Women Are SO NOT Handling the Recession Well'- Whatchu know about old school Dallas star, Victoria Principal a.k.a Bobby's wife Pam Ewing pulling a damn gun on her maid because wait on it... Maribel was taking too long to walk the dog!!

What in the crazy ass-demanding-impatient-pinktoe hell??

It seems the poor domestic engineer took the spoiled Shih-Tzu out for a walk and that little bad ass just wouldn't drop her load. By the time the two finally returned to the ranch, ole girl was wildin' out. On sight, Victoria pulled a gun out and ordered Maribel to get the hell off the damn property 'fore she pumped that ass full of lead. (Okay, maybe she say it exactly like that, but you get the idea).

Humph, humph, humph, I tell ya... Jesus be the melanin that provides coping skills.

Mind you, Pam is currently training to become a civilian astronaut on Richard Branson's commercial space flight venture, Virgin Galactic. Just so we're all clear- this woman can't handle the everyday pressure of her maid taking five minutes too long with the pooch but she wants to head out into space??

I swear 'fore God I couldn't make this mess up if I wanted to!!

she get it from her father...

Okay so, I went in to pick up my bridesmaid dress this past Friday and lo and behold, that sucker still doesn't fit: the strapless top is too big, the sash is too short to cinch and the entire backside is damn near see-through (yes, I know Toya wants a Super Sexy Second Wedding theme across the board but that does not include me being topless and ass out, homie). Sigh, so annoying. Cause it's all fun and games till the wedding day when I wind up looking scandalous friend with no home training in all the photos.

With that said, I'm now on the hunt for shoes. Which in theory should be simple because the dress is black... yeah, not so much.

For whatever reason, I can' seem to find a pair of black strappy, sparkly sandals with a four inch heel that 1) match the black in the dress (cause don't you hate blatantly mismatched blacks) and 2) fit my feet comfortably.

And no, I can't just "go get a pair from 9 West or Aldo," dammit. Why? Because 9 West/ Aldo+Mitzi's wide ass feet= severe pain. And after all the money I'm spending on this mess, I have no intention of spending half the night in my seat or worse being the girl that has to do the hot foot dance all the way home after the reception. (And you know exactly what I mean by hot foot- foot all twisted out, limping like someone smashed your toes with a sledgehammer and then pushed you unto a bed of hot coals.) No thank you.


So if you see any cute black sandals please let a sister know ASAP. I've only got 19 days to pull it together...

just my thoughts...

Soooo... how messy do we think Nas and Kelis's divorce proceeding is going to be?  'Cause not for nothing, homegirl is seven months pregnant.  And whatever under the sun, made her drag her milkshake to the LA County Clerk and file the papers must be SOME SHIZZ-NIT- ya heard?

And not for nothing, am I the only who cannot WAIT till Danity Kane and all those dirty looking, barely talented chicks disappear from all media? I read the reviews of the "reunion show" that ran last night and it sounded like a HOT ASS MESS.  Yeah, I said it. Speaking of made for TV train wrecks...

Is Harlem Heights over?  I mean, I know I personally couldn't make it past the first 20 minutes of the premiere episode.  Howsomever, there were quite a few of ya'll (and I won't call no names Monique and Daria) that got caught up in the tomfoolery. I'm curious to hear how the drama & confusion worked itself out.  Oh and I've been slipping on my Bravo reality show game. Is the Rachel Zoe Project even still on?  Cause you know, I DIED for that damn anorexic, neurotic, bi-polar, psycho stylist! And what are the best bridal shows on? There's nothing like a a little Bridezilla to take my mind off of the fact that I'm so hungry I could eat my own tongue (yes party people, Operation Skinny Bridesmaid is still in full effect).

I can't believe I'm saying this but, I'm kinda excited for this overcast weekend.    Cause all I wanna do is relax and zone out for a hot minute.  That, and go see the X-Men Origins: Wolverine movie. Mmm-hmm...  Cause I LOVES me some X-Men movies and I can't wait for all the ridiculous special effects. 

Well, whatever you do, have a fantastic weekend!