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.