Sunday, January 13, 2013

waiting on that pie in the sky

Well, someone close to me said that the reason why I don't have what I want is because I stopped praying. Let me give you the backstory. I have visited the religion cafeteria quite a few times in my life, Seventh Day Adventist, Baptist, Catholic, Muslim, all before I was 15. My mother was always searching for a faith to belong to, and took me along for the ride with her. At this point, I never had a personal connection/relationship with God. Most of the time, I was just going through the motions. There have been times where my prayers have been answered. But I never fully trusted that God really had my back. If that was the case, why was my childhood stolen from me? Why did I have to grow up without my father? Why was I abused and mistreated? Why did I feel so alone at times? Misunderstood? There were several times where I considered suicide. Others where I was depressed. Not having enough money. Always just getting by. No vacations, new clothes, just surviving in the projects while raising my children. I was a practicing(most of the time) Christian for 7 years. 7 years of paying tithes, going to church every Sunday, Christmas, Easter, and New Year's Eve. No ganja, sex, alcohol, partying. Except for "backsliding" and having my son, I was practically a nun. I told myself I was waiting for my husband and my financial miracle. Neither one showed up. One day I got bored with the same routine. Tired of praying asking and waiting for the pie in the sky. I need physical attention. Yes, I need sex and lots of it!! I want to be a wild woman. Howling at the moon and being connected with nature. I'm finding out that true spirituality has nothing to do with religion. I've been looking into connecting with the Divine Feminine. I'm also planning on building an altar and beginning a meditation and chanting practice. Hey, it worked for Tina Turner. Ultimately I plan on discovering my true path. What works for me. Oh yeah, orgasms galore, having wealth and the wisdom to make it grow, world travel and awesome adventures are in store. I bet my pie in the sky on it.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Hey, hey, HEY.... I am back!!! I have neglected my love a mighty long time. I'll have to save my awesome FB posts and put them here instead.....more to come...

Saturday, March 14, 2009

quit your bellyaching..

in the past couple of days, I've realized something.
Negroes complain too damn much.
Now, I'm not talking about the kind of complaining that leads to petitions, marches, boycotts.
I'm talking shit like this: "where the phuck is my check, why is this line so effing long," and the camel that broke the straw's back, wait for it..
that's phucked up, Tony got too many damn stores... Are you serious, hating on homey cause your dumb ass keeps him paid???
Which leads to another question, why does everyone else BUT my people have businesses in my hood?

I'll put this out there now: if you're in line at the bodega and homeboy is taking too long to make your sammich cause he's the only one behind the counter, you got 2 choices, take your ass home and cook your own food, or wait quietly..

I'm ready to move and live with some other people, I was tired of the hood a long time ago...

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Things that need to be retired in the '09

The New York Post
dudes that wear their pants hanging off their asses, with a belt.
celebrities who think they're bigger than Jesus once they get famous, hey Kanye..
chicks who piggyback off their famous friends for fifteen seconds of fame
girls who wear their jeans too low, every time they turn around, you see plumber's crack...
children with a mouth full of teeth, walking, talking, with pacifiers in their mouths
all the tacky bootleg Obama merchandise, yes we can and we did, but damn enough is enough
speed dating
taking a dude back after he kicks your ass, hello, Rihanna!
women beating dudes with their shoes, if it gets that serious, hit him upside the head with a hot frying pan.
people who wear huge bags on crowded trains
actors who aren't white getting Oscars every couple of decades.
reality shows where delusional desperate women compete for a man ex: the Bachelor, for the love of Ray J, etc.
Supernanny, we need some Supergrannies in this piece
rappers who wanna be rock stars, rock stars who wanna be rappers, pick a lane and stay there, dammit
Zahara Jolie's lack of hairdos, make friends with a black person already!
Dancing with the Stars
celebrities that wanna act like they're still in the hood, screw up, when they're faced with hard time, suddenly get a show to redeem themselves
Mo'nique taking pictures with those Sasquatch legs, you got money booboo get some Nair in your life.
songs about getting drunk in the club
ghetto fabulous urban fiction
The Biggest Loser, I watch it while eating a cheeseburger.
Those "feminine hygiene" commercials

Friday, March 6, 2009

missed connections

Have you ever seen someone walking down the street, or in the supermarket, or maybe the A train..
and glanced at them for a split second and thought, "Damn, he's fine!"

About 2 months back, I saw this brother in Pathmark..mmmm delicious. Tall, dark and handsome is putting it mildly. Normally I go for the redbones, but the chocolate brothers always sneak past my radar. I was looking tore up that day with my winter gear on, I was most likely in a funky mood, cause it was so damn cold.

Anyway, I noticed he had a mark around his left eye, kinda like a vanilla swirl in a bowl of chocolate pudding... we looked at each other, i'm thinking say something, anything, but alas, nothing.

Oh, where art thou, my Godiva prince???

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

The runner-up...

I watched Redbelt last night. The plot had lots of twists and turns, interesting. But never mind that, lo and behold what do my eyes behold before me, but Mr. Chiwetel Ejiofor.

He's a British actor, Google him, why don't you?
You may have seen him in Talk to Me, American Gangster, Children of Men, or my favorite, Kinky Boots.
Kinda looks like the brother that lives in your building or the one at the bookstore or at the poetry reading. Very unassuming but once you get him alone, ooowwee..

This is an older picture, he looked a little rough in the movie, but I'd still hit that...after I shave that hair off his chest... I may have to get me a passport and pay him a visit...

Here, baby, there mama, everywhere daddy, daddy, HAIR!!

I've spent so much time and money guessed hair!
So far, I've had braids(black and fuchsia), close cut naturals, dyed(colors in and out of the spectrum), fried, laid to the side.

I've been ponytailed, cornrowed, nubian knotted, boofruto'd(if you lived in NYC in the 90's, you know what I'm talking about) curled, swirled, and the old standby, the slickback(with that brown "protein gel") oh yeah, let's not forget the goddess braids, and the old dusty chestnut, the Afro, teeny weeny and super size, black one time and multi-colored the next.
The old asymmetrical weave and cut, one color..sometimes two..
I've spent so much time in the beauty supply stores buying someone else's hair and having it glued to my head.....

I must say the craziest thing I've done is let some girl I barely knew bleach, dye and put two different tints in my hair, can you say Rainbow Brite? Or could it be that time I had box braids in the front and back and nubian knots in the middle? But dammit, I pulled it off with flair!

Why, you ask? Maybe the Purple Dragon acid and the weed my parents did back in the day somehow leaked into my DNA..
Or maybe I like to see how much I can fuck with my hair and still have some left on my head.
In my defense, everyone has or should have a creative outlet, up to this date, my hair has been my muse. And also, I can't stand looking like everyone else. If you ride any train in the hood or walk down any street in the urban USA, you know what I'm talking about. Either it's this:


So now, while I still have some hair left on my head, and to avoid sitting in barbershops and having to answer stupid ass questions, I've approached the final frontier, went and got me some locks, I must say I love, love, love them! So if in about a month, you see a woman in Brooklyn with fire red locks..