help before I knew I needed it...

Hmmm, I'm definitely having a quiet moment...

Just found out that acclaimed author, E. Lynn Harris of down-low lit fame died at the premature age of 53 years. Not hot.

'Cause let's just keep it 1000, in addition to it being a juicy story, reading his groundbreaking Invisible Life saved many a woman- black, white, yellow, blue- from making tragic mistake with with a man who couldn't make a decision. 

RIP.

triple whopper and diet coke, please

Hmmm, so the New York Times is reporting that Manhattan is the thinnest county in New York State. Apparently the average across the state is 60% and we're at an impressive 42% low.

Can't say I'm uber surprised with all the models, artists, Euro-trash, Stepford wives and beautiful Chelsea boys fa-la-laing all over the damn place.  But what is interesting is how honest the folks they interviewed about being skinny were about how they felt about the socioeconomic implications of being overweight.

"My mom says, 'The smaller the dress size, the larger the apartment,'" said one Upper Eastsider.  

Well damn, tell 'em how you really feel ma. Right?

Mind you, although I thought some of these chicks were doing way too much for me to co-sign (so what you're saying is, you're 5-foot-8, 119lbs and you're not tossing your cookies after every meal?  Really?). I gotta admit, I definitely identified with one of the interviewees- Simon Doonan, 56, the creative director of Barney's.  Good ole Simon was the only person honest enough to attribute the borough's obsession with weight to straight up, simple and plain, FEAR.

 

"Or closets are filled with all these expensive clothes that are like swords of Damocles, because we may not fit into them anymore." Preach.  

Cause the good Lord knows, my closet may only be filled with H&M, random sample sale finds and a couple of cute pieces from the GAP (gotta get the shout out in) but I damn sure can't afford to replace nam stitch of it right about now. 

SO until the majority of the styles at Target start to cater to the short and curvy (and please believe I check in on a regular basis), I too will be unabashedly dragging my butt to the stinky NYSC and trying to make the magic happen.

actually, a king's son is a prince....

I must say, yesterday was a lot. First, waking up to the sound of pouring rain and then realizing that my cable/ internet wasn't working definitely blew me.  But in the grand scheme of things, it could've always been worse. 

Shoot, I could've been famed African-American scholar and Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. who got arrested  for disorderly conduct after forcing open the jammed front door of the house he LIVES in.  Mmm-hmm...

All I can say is thank god today is another day. The sun is shining, the Yankees are tied for 1st place in the Division and apparently Kelis finally delivered her son with Nas. Yes, let the choir sing. 'Cause I am beyond tired of hearing about those angry twits from the web and reading about the messy divorce proceeding... yeah, I said it.  

Not for nothing, if  Kesha Nichols can get over being dumped via text message by lame ass, e-thug Richard Jefferson less than a week before their wedding, then my god- its time to pull up your big girl panties and move on the hell on.

Real talk? You skimmed through his first baby mama's book just like the rest of us... You knew who you married. You rocked your matching satin 'NIGGER' jacket with pride.  Spare us all the indignant outrage, ridiculous $20,000 a month child support demands and just carry your ass back to the studio. 

sorry Corky...

Slow news days... that is unless you want to discuss Michael Vick coming off of house arrest or that Chris Brown's bodyguard is allegedly selling his sneakers on Twitter. Yeah, me neither.  

So I guess we'll go to the polls.  Ah, here's a good one we never got to talk about:  

What's a bigger turn-off: a filthy kitchen or a nasty bathroom?

14%- filthy kitchen

85%-nasty bathroom

Mind you, I'm far from a neat freak.  If anyone understands a little clutter in the NYC sized one bedroom it's the girl who works in her living room. But a grimy kitchen or bathroom?  Oh hells naw, the sight of either one of the two are deal breakers.  Period, with no discussion to be had.

But if I must choose one evil over another, I'm going with the majority- the bathroom is a bigger problem. 

Because not for nothing, we can always eat out but at some point, my weak bladder is going to betray me.  And I WILL have to pee.  And not that I'm ever sitting down on anybody's toilet seat besides my own BUT just the sight of gross brown bowl underneath me is too much.  Oh and what about when I go to wash my hands?  What am I supposed to turn on the faucet with the edge of my fingernails?? No thank you. 

It's like how do you expect me to believe that you were able to truly get clean in a filthy bathroom? No way. I'm not buying it.  Which in essence makes you a perpetually dirty individual.... which can only mean that you carry more than your fair share of germs... which means you're going to make me sick.  Uh-Uh, Simon says stop right there. 

And big picture?  Why don't you care enough to clean? You knew I was coming... What neuron didn't fire off the message to your brain that it's not appropriate to allow the person that you're dating/ trying to be intimate with to spend time in the crib when your bathroom is unclean? No ma'am. 

Call me an elitist but I'm just not the one for dating the disabled. You and all those little hair from when you shaved  your beard off have gots to do better.                 

all the places we won't go...

Huh.  Halfway through July and I still can't figure out where to go on vacay this summer... Sigh, it's not looking good for the kid. 

For a second, I was thinking I'd go back to the Bahamas cause I absolutely LOVED their beaches... but that was before I heard about the family of feral pigs that have started swimming in the ocean.  Mmm-hmm... Feel free to insert blank stare with three blinks.

Apparently, the parents and piglets were once domestic and now running amuck in the wild.  They've made their home on Big Major Spot Island beach.  And have no qualms about swimming alongside the visiting tourists.  Um, how do I best say this?  No ma'am.

But pigs in the ocean is nothing compared to the crappy tourism pr West Virginia is dealing with right about now.  Where else in the WORLD do you hear about someone breaking into a house to have sex with a DOG??? What in the unholy-inbred-missing-chromosome hell is that? 

Uh-uh. I. Will. Not.

Maybe this is a sign from above that I need to keep my behind local. You know, pull a folding lawn chair out onto the sidewalk, relax with the corner boys and let the hood entertain me.