penny pinchers unite

Well from the looks of it, appearance (and health, I hope) seem to be the priority for the majority of folks. A strong 64% said that you would rather date someone who could potentially never surprise you with a romantic weekend getaway, live in a cold, dark house because it saves a whopping $20 a month, have you cutting coupons for toilet paper or even worse ask you to go dutch at your very own bday dinner IN FRONT of family & friends; than be with someone who is noticeably overweight. True. If you can't get past jiggly man-breasts and moist backfat, then you just can't.

How-some-ever, once again I'm rolling with the minority on this one. Like the 36%, I cannot stand cheap people. Worse if it's a man that I'm romantically involved with. My motto is: life is for the living. There's a big difference between frugal and cheap. We ain't gotta ball outta control every single day but good grief you can't take it with. All that saving every last penny... no sir, mama needs pretty things to keep a happy house. Even if I have to go grocery shopping once a week and replace the mattress every three years because he's breaking the springs... I'll be damned if I we go out as a couple with a single girlfriend and homeboy doesn't inherently understand that he's expected to pick up the tab for her and I. As my girl Takara so eloquently explained, "one good bout of the flu or food poisoning... and you've got the skinny boy of your dreams." Ha! I know, we ain't about nothing...

hoping for wind...

For the first time in I don't even know how many years, I've decided to dress up and celebrate Halloween. At first I was just going to comb out the 'fro and throw together something from the back of my closet. But then I convinced myself that it'd been so long, I might as well go all out and dress up. Right?

So after 2 long hours (and at least 25 different slutty school girl outfits) in Ricki's unbelievably crowded Halloween Store aisles, I finally settled on the naughty 5th Ave. maid costume (it's just like the freaky french maid except my dress has more spandex for the curves).

And please believe, your girl has the whole look- from the feather duster to the frilly fire engine red panty covers (just in case a strong breeze blows) down to the 5-inch lucite heels (um yes, I know that stripper heels have nothing to do with a french maid but this is my fantasy, thank you very much). Don't hate, I am sososo excited!

not so fresh or so clean...

So last night I attended the world premiere of Malcolm D. Lee's new film Soul Men starring Samuel L. Jackson and Bernie Mac. Thankfully, the screening was held at the Apollo, cause otherwise yours truly would've missed it. You know mama don't play that cold weather business AT ALL and the temperature dropped down to the freaking 30s late night!

Anyhoo, overall it was a cool premiere. People got dressed up, there were a lot of Hollywood execs, Sam Jackson came out and so did Bernie's family. Moreover, I'm happy to report, the movie is actually good (disclaimer: no, it's not the best Black movie ever but it's worth your $10). Sam and Bernie just have a natural comedic chemistry that makes you smile despite yourself. And I won't spoil it for those of you who are planning see it but, there's a tribute that plays as the credits roll that's not to be missed.


But can I tell you? Movie aside, you know what made the greatest impression on me over the course of the night? The gentleman sitting directly in front of me. Mmm-hmmm, I surely won't forget him for a while. Why you ask? Because his dreds were STINK. And I'm not talking slight patchouli oil overload. I mean, SOUR grease and DIRTY scalp mixed with rain water STINK. Every time he moved his head, my nostrils would flair and my eyes would tear up. I'm not even kidding you. It was so offensive, I thought I was going to vomit in my mouth whenever I caught a whiff.


To make matters worse, it wasn't like he even had one of those full heads of hair that you're probably envisioning. Oh no, he only had a few straggly pieces of dreds at the top and then I'm assuming the rest had fallen out along the sides. It was a hot ass mess. I was dying to dose him with some of that Pantene for colored hair. Finally, I had to call it a loss and give up my good seat in the center for an empty one off to the side with an obstructed view. It was just that bad.

We have to do better my people.

what's my name...

No matter how you slice the cake, being cheated on sucks. And the older I become, the longer it takes me to trust. So to discover that someone I finally allowed myself to believe in, be completely unguarded around and tell Elsa about has betrayed me? Well like the 57% of you, just call me Capt. Cut-'Em-Off.

And no, it's not because I don't understand how challenging it can be to meet amazing, progressive, single men nowadays. In fact, I'm the first one commenting on how much harder it's become over the years and threatening to auction my virginity on Ebay (oh wait, it's a little too late for that, huh?). But quietly, it's just as hard to meet amazing women. So the way I see it, we'll both be struggling to figure it out after the fact.

One of the hardest lessons I've learned is if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for everything. And since I don't have kids to consider, I refuse to be the only one trying to hold the sinking ship together. DO NOT come crying to me to me after the fact because you feel guilty or worse, cause your side chick is getting out of pocket and is threatening to rat you out. Sloppy is not hot.

Although I'll admit; I wasn't always this jaded. Looking way, way back, like the 42%, I'm sure that if my ex had simply been upfront about what happened or in my case, confessed before the trifling jump-off called my phone (insert eye roll and sigh) we would've definitely been able to move past it. Because keeping it real? Deep down inside, I wanted to forgive him. I wanted to make like the white girls in the movies and have a happily ever after. Now, no one's saying it would've been easy (cause I'm a Scorpio and you know how we do) BUT when you actually meet someone that matters, it can be hard to just let go of everything because of one unfortunate, meaningless indiscretion...

in total denial...

I was really hoping that the Chicago police would find Jennifer Hudson's nephew Julian King. I kept delaying my post about the situation because I was convinced that somehow, some way, that the innocent 7 year-old boy was going to be okay. Unfortunately not. And so my thoughts go out to Jennifer Hudson and her family for the multiple losses they suffered this past weekend. I pray that at some point they will all be able to heal and recover.

I also hope that this unspeakable tragedy serves as a gentle reminder to the rest of us-no one is 100% immune to domestic violence. Hindsight is 20/20 but trust, somewhere along the line, somebody saw J-Hud's sister's estranged husband say/ do something that made them pause. And lord knows they probably even tried to say something...

Tragically, you know how hardheaded women in love (myself included) can be about our relationships- giving folks a million and one chances, overlooking the obvious, acting like crazy is ever cool, etc. Read: unnecessarily gambling with our mental and physical wellbeing just not to be alone.

Humph, all I can say is point duly noted.