Not hating, Just stating…

Imagine you are out for a night on the town with your co-worker when you notice attractive men of questionable character. It is unfortunate that when you see a group of well-dressed Black men, you have to watch them CLOSELY to determine if you are there type & vice versa. But that is what happened. I had to OBSERVE very closely. I determined these 5 attractive, well-dressed men were more interested in one another than anyone else in the club.

One of the men I knew and used to crush on majorly until I realized, I was all alone in the crush line. He wasn’t interested in anything I had to offer. I laid the useless pursuit to rest well before I got too caught up. Since then, I have paid attention to who he interacts with and how they interact. I hope it is not a new trend for hetero men to hang out in groups and dance only or MOSTLY with one another. This has long been a solely female club tradition; one that has frustrated men nationwide and last night, before my eyes… I witnessed the phenomenon with men.

They had routines that they undoubtedly picked up from watching BET. I was like ummmm, y’all can dance, but you are about to step on my girls FOOT! It’s not that serious. One of them danced with me for all of a minute and a half, not to sound conceited, but NO ONE dances with ME for a minute & a half! That is UNHEARD OF! *ASTOUNDED*

I went over to one of the promoters for the happy hour & with much distress in my face & voice, I pointed out the questionable activity. I informed him that I have NOTHING AGAINST GAY MEN, but the sheer magnitude of the display was beyond what I could handle. I watched in awe as a group of women primped & preened & overdid it in front of the mirror before turning their attention to these men who were paying them NO ATTENTION! My co-worker and I laughed OUTLOUD as these three women fell alllll over themselves trying to grab some glimmer of attention.

One of them said the WRONG thing to the WRONG one & ended up getting the BUSINESS from him & not in a gay-read-you-write-you-turn-the-page-recite-you way. But in a I will not hesitate to smack a bych way. It left me with the impression that maybe he was not so gay, but later as I watched him look EXTRA disinterested in some terribly weaved chick’s attempt at a lapdance I was snapped back to reality.

I was really tempted to ask the brother in the double collared shirts (that is he had on TWO shirts with collars): “Hi, yes, excuse me, hello… are you gay?” I mean, it was not any of my business, but with all that went on that night, my interest was piqued. I never got up the nerve to inquire, but I will certainly be on the look out for these men in the streets, I mean they have to go out on clandestine dates EVENTUALLY, right?

Sorry for the lapse in blogs, between the news of my 33 year old cousin dying of Cancer (the big C, as the old people call it) and my seemingly neverending love hangover, I have been a little preoccupied. The funeral is Thursday and though I am at peace with it now, it doesn’t make it suck any less that she was so young. So I urge you all to take care of yourself and don’t let your doctor tell you to put some ice or heat on your swollen body parts without them confirming or denying it is Cancer FIRST!

But I digress…

In Talladega Nights, I learned that if you begin a statement with the words: “With all due respect…” you can pretty much say anything to the person and they SHOULD not get upset because you didn’t mean any disrespect. So, it is with ALL DUE RESPECT, I ask some people to KINDLY shut the eff up!

Your sage nuggets of wisdom that you think you are imparting upon the masses, are nuggets of SOMETHING, but I assure you they are not wisdom. They are grammatically incorrect, over-worded mixed metaphoric verbal mishmash. I have started to tune some people out but my other friends insist on bringing it to my attention that whatever they have just said makes little to no sense. I chuckle and try to ignore it, but as more and more people begin to either improperly “kick the truth to the young black youth” or point out and try to make sense of those that make these attempts; I have begun to get fed up.

You have GOT to know your ministry, people. Some people have a way with words, some people have a way with numbers, some people have a way with pots & pans, and others have a way with liquor & liqueur. KNOW YOUR MINISTRY!

If you couldn’t sing, would you volunteer to perform a solo? No! If you couldn’t cook, would you volunteer to make Thanksgiving dinner? NO! If you couldn’t put words together in a logical manner, would you volunteer to give advice? NOOOO! (that was a trick question). So to that end, TPain, please stop singing… Auntie, please stop trying to cook fanciful meals… and you, you, and YOU stop trying to drop knowledge.

You have to be honest with yourself. If English wasn’t your best subject or even a GOOD subject for you, then why would you think suddenly you could become a ghetto Poet Laureate? I don’t do numbers, I know that numbers & I don’t get along… I can’t even master Sudoku, so I know not to try to help someone do a budget or balance their checkbook. I know my role & I play it WELL!

Life is all about living up to your destiny & some people are destined to just NOT say much. It’s okay, we understand. Use what you got and use it WELL… I am not discouraging that. But seriously, with all due respect, sit down & shut up!

THANKS!

I am so damn tired of seeing Puffy’s mother out in the streets with that sandy blonde weave & some random not fit for somebody’s mama get up. She plays too much! How can Puffy, a fashion mogul, be OKAY with his mom coming out of the house like that? Some would even ask how can he ALLOW her to dress this way…but if Janice is any thing like my mom then there is no way to DISALLOW your mom to leave the house wearing whatever she likes. If my mom wants to rock her wide-leg, gray, cotton sweat suit with a chunky heeled black boot… I can SUGGEST she not leave the house like that, but trust if she thinks she looks hot, she is going to leave the house that way whether I like it or not. *MAJOR EYEROLL* (yes my mom really does rock this ‘fit). So, in that vein, I leave you with this… an open Letter to Miz Janice Combs:

Dear Janice Combs,

 

I am fairly certain that there was never a point in time when you looked sexy, cute, hot or effeminate. I am terribly sorry that you may be feeling envious because your son has gone through those style/lifestyle phases. However, when you ain’t got it, you ain’t got it. Please stop trying to MAKE your (son’s) money BUY you your sexy, cute, hot, effeminate youth. It will never ever ever ever ever happen. So I IMPLORE you to dress for your age, size, and looks. No one wants to see the sandy blonde hair and rag tag sag hags you have had botoxed & pushed up & now call breasts. LET IT GO! Let your money speak FOR you, because right now, you are speaking for your money & you appear to be saying: Money can’t by you class or a clue.

 

 

Sincerely,

 

Me & everyone else disappointed that you still doin this dumbshyt!

Let me start off by saying I am not a shallow person…

I think some say: If you have to tell people you ARE NOT a certain way, then you likely are? *girlish giggle*

So back to ME! I work in an area frequented by and populated with men I refer to as “the defend-ANT”. I work at Judiciary Square, so named for it’s lovely attractions: the police HQ & DC courthouse. YAY!

This is an area where you CANNOT assume every man with a suit and a folder or briefcase is a lawyer. MOST times, if you look carefully, the suit is too big or dusty, it is accompanied by either Nike boots or Timbs, and there is likely a tattoo of some sort ABOVE the neckline. All dead giveaways that this guy is not a lawyer, but a CLIENT. It took a little while for me to catch on. One fine August day as I was walking to the train station, I noticed a young man in all black: longsleeved shirt, black sweatpants, and Nike Boots. August in this area is like High noon in HELL! So it sent up a red flag right away. That was when I took a closer look at his boots- they lacked laces. I thought to myself: Why would he be dressed so inappropriately for the weather and why wouldn’t he have laces in his boots …………….

Oh, I get it, he just got out.

---

So today, as I try my damnedest to walk across the street to grab my food and come RIGHT back without drawing any attention or making any eye contact, it happened. I was eye-stalked by a most hideous creature: part predator, part Harry and the Hendersons, part Pizza the Hut (yeah, I did it, I made a Spaceballs reference) for those keeping a running tally that’s THREE parts disgusting! He looked at me as if I were naked & walking directly at him offering him up the good good. What in fact happened was he was crossing my path & appeared to be slowing down so me being the good-at-faking-oblivious-but-actually-being-very-attentive woman that I am, went into code orange- HIGH ALERT! I didn’t mean to make eye contact, but it was unavoidable and his smile was more horrfiying than a trashcan full of dead puppies! JUST TRAGIC!But he really looked interested in saying something. So I kicked these 3.5 inch Parade of Shoes Going Out Of Business Specials into 4th gear & made a beeline to the building before he could finish his hello. WHEW!It made me think. I look nice today and I was clearly headed back to work. What made HIM think that I would stop & chat with him in his dirty, oversized white tee, unkempt locs complete WITH thin/bald spots in the middle and whatever else he had going on below the waist (not in THAT way, dirty birdies!). I didn’t get that far because I didn’t want to run the risk of him thinking I was giving him ANY kind of eye!

Now I am sure there are those that will say, you never know who he was or what his story is. And you know what? YER RIGHT! I will NEVER KNOW! Because I didn’t want to. I have kissed some frogs in my life, believe you me! And I have given chances to some men that were less than easy on the eyes. But I refuse to try & polish a turd! UGH! I get so ASTOUNDED by some of the males that attempt to capture the attention of my girls and me. We don’t look clinically depressed, desperate, crazy, homeless or unemployed, so why are you bringing yourself over here with your RAGGELY (yes RAGGELY) mouth, tattooed face, kicked over kicks, ring-around-the-ring-around the collar shirt, and poor grasp of the english language; and subsequently getting upset because we are not trying to “conversate” with you. SERIOUSLY, haveyoulookedinthemirrorlately? No? Oh, because if you HAD, you would see what we see: YOU DUSTY!

I am not claiming I am a dime, but I look good enough to get a man with: ALL his teeth, a job that requires his neck & face be tattoo free, shoes that don’t look like he walked here from the Great Depression, a FRESH white tee, and at least a general idea of good and bad grammar enough to know that “conversate” is not a DAMN WORD! I mean, come on, guy. Let’s be real here, just like you CHOSE to talk to me, I am CHOOSING to NOT talk to you. Saves me the breath and you the embarrassment, though I believe you have no pride and NO shame. I mean, afterall you came out of the house looking like the Katrina looter…

Oh NO she didn’t!

Oh YES I did!

I need EVERYONE to have a mirror near their front door because u NEVER know who you are going to see out in the streets, ain’t that right, Mr. Katrina Beer Looter?

Don’t worry, this is not about me & my S.O. Sorry to those who were rejoicing or mourning. I was watching I Love Money on VH1. (Yes, I was watching this instead of doing something constructive like feeding the homeless, reading to the blind, organizing my dresser.) Now, as a “fan” of I Love NY, Flavor of Love & the FIRST half of the FIRST season of Rock of Love, I am familiar with these folks and actually had favorites. (SPOILER ALERT!!!) One of my faves from ILNY2 was Midget Mac. He was funny & seemed to have a je ne sais quois. Not saying I would hit that, but… he had miniswag. He changed all of that tonight.

He called a few of the women hoes, including Hoopz, which may very well be true, but it came out of left field & was a TERRIBLE move on the first DAY of competition. Once they got to the  competition he refused to put on a bikini bottom and grab for pesos. In the end they sent his lil evil ass home and he deserved it because HE proved himself to be delusional because he chalked it up to him refusing to put on a swimsuit.

No, hunny, it is because you showed your ass and your insecurity all at once and no one wanted to deal with that.

I guess that is what I get for LIKING someone from a reality show. Not like I had a CRUSH on him, but I was happy for him when I saw the casting special for the show. Now I see he was just a DICKHEAD and they edited ILNY2 to make him seem more likeable.  Shneaky, shneaky!

Fool me once shame on you; fool me twice and it’s time to change the channel cuz I am WAY too emotionally involved. So after watching the show on about a 30 minute DVR delay, I end up turning to what? THE COLOR PURPLE!!! And it was on my FAVORITE scene… DINNER WITH SOPHIA!

Speaking of emotionally involved, I am sitting here reciting the words alternately aloud and in my head.  I remember seeing this movie for the first time at the tender age of 6 or 7 & having the opportunity to meet Danny Glover at the Howard University Children’s theater. I REFUSED! This movie made THAT much of an impact on me that  I wouldn’t watch a movie he made until somewhere around A Rage in Harlem when I was 12. Yeah, I was way to emotionally involved!

First of all, I want to clarify that I am an educated woman, so the misspelling and improper grammar of the title and blog is purposeful. Whenever my girls and I get angry or disgruntled we use improper or broken English to get our point across. So get over it!

This summer has been lackluster. Few cookouts, house parties, gatherings. Just borin. There was a point in time when my friends and I had gone to 3 cookouts in one day. We made an entire loop around the beltway. From Largo we went out Branch Ave., from there we went to Alexandria, from there we went to Silver Spring. then decided from there to just keep heading in the same direction instead of revisiting all the exits we had been by already. This was back when gas was 2 fiddy and it was still fun to meet & talk to new boys.  How long ago was THAT, right?

This summer it has been hard for me to come up with 2 weekends in a row that have things going on that I feel like I want to go to, let alone several things in on ONE day. I have been to maybe 2 good cookouts this summer. Maybe I am old, but really gas prices seem to be ruining my social life. I want to see and be seen, but it’s hard to do so when the people, places and things I want to see and be seen with, in, around, etc. are few and far between. I haven’t been really MOVED by many events because no oe is really doing anything intimate enough or innovative enough.

The cookout I attended today was foiled by my mom’s shenanigans. The food was ON POINT. But my mom SUCKED all the fun out of it & the folks were very YOUNG. The 3 things you need for a quality cookout are: food, folks and fun! I cannot wait until my friends August event because that always has all three. But until then, there is nothing I am looking forward to, nothing that I MUST attend. 2 of the three events I most look forward to have come & gone and all I remember about the first one is …. is… hmmm… gettin numbers?  Wow am I in 10th grade? The second one had amazing food and strawberry acai Smirnoff Ices! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Well, all in all, this summer lacks quality fun! Just me & my girls around a table of food or drinks in a location where we feel welcome to talk about anyone who walks by and meeting new people to joke with & passively entertain. Is that too much to ask?

I guess so!

I have been writing & rewriting this blog for DAYS, bare with me will ya?

Van Hunt has a song called Down Here In Hell (With You) and it SPEAKS TO ME!

I really love it when
I love it when we make mistakes
Because once again
It gives me a reason to complain

I love the battle lines
The battle lines we draw and cross in the mud
Ooh, I love it when we fight
Standin’ on the verge of breakin’ up or makin’ love

What would I do if we were perfect?
Where would I go for disappointment?
Love without pain would leave me
Wonderin’ why I stay?

I think of savin’ myself
But with nothin’ to complain about up in Heaven
What would I do?
I think of savin’ myself
But I really wanna work it out
Down here in hell with you

Magic carpet ride
It don’t have to last forever
I know we shouldn’t fly so high
But the closer to the sun we go, the better

See, I wanna make you feel the fire
Wanna burn you with my bad days
Ooh, I wanna be unsatisfied
So you can feel the heat comin’ from me, baby

What would I do if we were perfect?
Where would I go for disappointment?
Words without hate would leave me nothin’ left to say

And I think of savin’ myself
But with nothin’ to complain about up in Heaven
What would I do?
I think of savin’ myself
But I really wanna work it out
Down here in hell with you

When I first heard this song I really wanted to feel like this about someone. I have always loved the happy jolly love is lovely love songs, but as a believer in love, I know that love isn’t always so lovely. You don’t know what the sun really feels like unless you have stood in the rain. I can spout a whole bunch of cliche bologna, but it all comes down to this: love has to have a downside otherwise, how do you know it is love?

I haven’t really had a relationship in YEARS so this was all speculation up until this point. I have recently found this to be true. But only when the feeling is mutual. If you are the only one in hell and then the only one in 7th Heaven, that ain’t love, baby.

But, take a moment and read the words and mull it over and TRUST if you have ever REALLY known love, these words will ring so true, you will actually SMILE! It’s really not a sad song, if you  know like I know…