b. scott is the shit.

i love b. scott to pieces! he makes me smile on the inside.

on a run-in with a squirrel:



on the LAX ho-stroll:



on sherri shepherd's dumb ass:

i've been tagged

by this hooker to do a meme where i list 6 quirks about myself. well . . . okay. i'm not tagging anyone.

1) i have the hardest time sleeping with the tv on, though sleeping with music playing is fine.

2) i read magazines from back to front, then read them from front to back.

3) i hate soda, with the exception of good shit like stewart's sodas, the occasional IBC cream soda, & whatever italian sodas i can get my hands on at random cafes.

4) i think being lauded and praised for even the smallest things can make my day go better.

5) i'm really expressive because i want to make sure ppl remember wtf i'm telling them.

6) i hate slow readers. HATE. i don't share print media w/ ppl because i get sick of waiting for them to finish.

oh, hell yes.

this is why i fuck w/ chris from SBPH.

he couldn't be more correct. he also managed to illustrate his point without being a jerk. i love him. i know he's probably not even reading this post, but i had to share that.

b/w

i think i've managed to justify my subscription to premium table channels. thanks to bill, i'm officially hooked on weeds. watching season 3 after not having seen more than snippets of the prior 2 seasons is kind of odd. but i freaking love this show.

i'm tired of this shit.

myopia is a disease. it can be a blessing and simultaneously a curse, if you will. i don't mean what my eyes can do (i'm a prime candidate for corrective eye surgery, actually). i'm talking about worldview perspective, or the lack thereof. i'm still here with mine. i'm not sure there are too many other ways to say it. i believe that love must fuel change. when i change myself, it is out of love -- i cast away old things. i cast away negativity. i cast away damaging things to improve myself. to me, change outside of ourselves should be fueled by the same feelings of love. there is no other way. what could be greater than love?

shine on!

dope girl fresh has been featured on the ultraviolet underground blog.

altered thought's silly ass is back at it. this time, he wants you to learn the basics of having relations.

laetiçia has learned the glory of bragging, a valuable lesson learned from mama gena.

falsabaiana's kids won the GOLD in their ballroom competition. (girl, gimme a link to read if there is one) she's also a recent birthday girl! yaaaaaaaaay!

this is my time to celebrate ppl i know/ love (especially myself! lol) & the wonderful things they do/ create, no matter how big or small.

prayers for you.

daughter
friend
sister
cousin
auntie
uncle
grandmother
grandfather
neighbor
stranger
coworker
customer
client
server
pet-owner
lost one
found one
so that you might love/ fight/ see/ be
better.

i couldn't have said it better.

this post is a reflection of what runs through my mind almost constantly when i'm riding public transit during hours that kids are out, or when i enter the gallery to make a purchase or avoid inclement weather outdoors. i feel like a traitor sometimes. i try not to be elitist. i try not to think poorly of poor ppl. but, dammit, these knucklehead kids & the parents who are raising them half-assed if at all . . . what do i do when i, as an HR professional (until further notice), meet these same folks at a job fair and can't even entertain the idea of trying to recruit them when i know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they're unemployable?

i'm not saying every one of these buck-wild-in-the-wrong-way kids is gonna grow up to be a total fuckwad.
i'm saying plenty of them are -- one is too many, really -- and i just don't wanna be bothered.

*sigh*

it's enough to make me glad as shit to be a brainiac snob. i know that there's a lot under all this. i know. i know that there's dysfunction at play long before any of these little ones even exit the birth canal. but dammit, sometimes i don't care. i want peace & quiet. i don't wanna have to sit next to your smelly, cheese-curl-eating-at-seven-thirty-in-the-morning ass. i don't fucking care if you know all the words to some dipset song. i don't need to hear if you think j. holiday is sexy as shit -- do you even know wtf that means? and pull your fucking pants up. stop with the imitations of what you think languages that aren't english sound like.

ugh.

i give up. i'm going to bed. rant over.

music to wake up to:

swing - che grand

sunshine (woke me up this morning) - labelle

take it easy, my brother charles - jorge ben

congo - amel larrieux

the art of noise - cee-lo

i (mikey) rock - the cool kids

another star - stevie wonder

papillon (aka hot butterfly) - chaka khan

shorties - sa-ra

skew it on the bar-b (f/ raekwon) - outkast

michael jackson - the mitchell brothers

see-line woman - nina simone

sLAyer (feat pacific division, bleu collar, & diz gibran) - j*davey

mama (metro area birthday dub) - hugh masekela

1 2 3 4 - feist

country livin' (the world i know) - esthero

. . . i'm listening to these songs this morning cuz my black ass reaaaaaaaaaally needs the motivation.


ps --

happy birthday, atlanta. you are a dynamic, powerful, absolutely beautiful soul & i'm thankful to know you. stay open to the universe, continue to reach for everything you want, & don't ever let anyone tell you that you don't deserve every last tasty morsel that is life. may you be blessed richly today & always. beijos!

i can't stop laughing.

courtney, if you're reading: don't front. lmao!

this is why i love her:


greenbench tv on their usual foolishness:

i tried sooooo hard

to avoid reality tv. no flavor of love, no i love new york, i refuse to look at celebrity fit club or college hill. but you know what? i've been had, my sweet babies. felled by the most preposterous reality show yet: ego trip's miss rap supreme. this is like making the band meets the bad girls' club, pressed down & shaken together about 12 times. good god. it's more drama than i care to even associate with on a regular basis.
but mc serch and yo-yo? at the same time? in the same place? giving pointers to women who think themselves the next trina, lil' kim, foxy brown, or . . . khia? it's the perfect formula for absolute foolishness. so, i watch it.

my other favorite is viva hollywood, the telenovela star search. i can't even begin to tell y'all how thankful i was to see that they have a slapping-across-the-face challenge. YES. sweet! and charo is involved. what more could a girl ask for?!

ain't a lot i can say.

ran into a former paramour. the dope boy. he's quite obviously on that shit. it hurts my heart. i never thought we were gonna be some great power couple, nor did i ever think i'd lay eyes on him again. but damn. did he really have to go and do the very same shit he pushed on the block? i pray that whatever happens, his suffering be minimal & that he achieve his highest destiny. we were never close or anything but all i really ever want for anyone is that they find peace inside so they don't have to be the junkie everyone's afraid of/ looking down upon. i'm really at a loss for him.

it's about that time of year again. monae's been gone nearly a year. she was the child of my mother's first cousin. they were part of the only branch of my grandmother's family who lived even remotely close to us in mt. airy. and i rarely saw her as we got older. school, work, social lives . . . all those things kept us from being close. youth. lack of foresight. of course, i'd have been in that girl's back pocket if i knew she was gonna leave here before she could even see her 22nd birthday. i think it might have been mutual for her, too. but, at the same time, i'm okay w/ how things were. there's nothing that can be done about what's already gone on. i can't forget the last time i saw her. i'll make sure i put something out for her & my grandmother on their birthday. iba ara t'orun monae. iba ara t'orun momzie.

there's transitioning going on all over my life. work, home, all sides of me. i need to keep both feet on the ground, so as not to be swept away by these gradual and/ or sweeping changes.
there's much to be done...

in my quest for humorous discourse*

i have found myself exploring the idea that how you eat your food tells about how you get down in the bedroom. to that end, i have enlisted the assistance of a buddy of mine to weigh in on the matter. don't forget: this is humorous discourse. that means you should laugh and learn at the same time. don't agree w/ what's written here? don't be mad, 'twan. i'm just sharing one man's position on something very near and dear to my heart. may the lord add a blessing to the reading of this here word.

peace and love, party people.

i make no bones about it. i love love love cunnilingus. licking the honeyhole. in simple terms, eating pussy. and being as though I'm one of them fancy Black Americans of Island descent, I've had exposure to many delectable fruits that are native to that region of the world. juicy mangos, sweet oranges and stuff like that. i credit my love of the sweet and juicy for making me the pussy eatin' champeen i am today.

i'll never forget this one day in 10th grade i was eating a peach in front of Toni Williams with the big ol' country ignorant ass and she was like "EW! DAY DAY EATING THAT LIKE HE BE EATIN BOOTY!". now you gotta understand something about me...i was a stone cold geek who APPEARED to be cool but inside, i was a nerd. and for her to blurt out that statement with me being a fresh virgin, well, if i'm sure my black ass turned blurple from blushing so hard.

but as i'm eating this peach, i was thinking in my mind..."man if booty taste like that, i can't WAIT to have me some". so later that school year, i finally got around to getting laid and i sadly discovered that while vagina is a pretty amazing thing, it don't look like no damn peaches. so it wasn't no way in hell at the age of 15 i was finna chew me some woman meat...hell no. but let's fast forward 4 years later when i was in college.

i asked my freak ass uncle rick what was the fastest way a young nigga can grow him some facial hair. he calmly says "eat some pussy,"and i laughed nervously but i was curious. i said "i never did that, uncle rick. how do you do it?" and he goes, you eat mango and peaches and oranges, right? just like that but don't use your teeth". now see, i was still skeptical because one, you keep hearing from your Jamaican side of the family that eating pussy is "filthy" and all that, you develop a slight complex. but curiosity got the best of me and i went forth with it. i can remember it clear as day. the girl sat on the edge of the bed and she had some big ol legs and i was thinking "yo, my dome is type large...what if i get stuck in her pussy vortex and die with my head all on her hoo-ha?". i mean i was nervous, jack. but i did it and i literally ate it like a sweet, juicy mango. and it tasted like it too.

you ever had a mango so juicy that you needed a bib? i have...man, if i could, i'd put a slice of mango inside a woman and hoover that sum'bitch out but i don't think that's too sanitary or comfortable but you smell me though, right? now eating pussy wasn't quite like that and i didn't know what the hell i was doing. i think it was a good 4-6 times in before i finally made her cum. gee whiz that was difficult to learn...not anything like eating a mango. you slice a mango, you put your mouth on that exposed juicy flesh and you immediately grab a napkin to catch the run down in your chin.

first of all, young brothers (and sisters, since it's that type of world), eating pussy isn't rocket science but it IS a labor of love. meaning, if you gonna just tip at it with your tongue like it's some hot broth and hold your lips all tight like you a trumpet player, you may not be one for pussy eatin...and that's cool. but if you really wanna get it in, it's simple.

there are many many many nerve endings down there, of course mostly concentrated in or around the clit. if i gotta explain this, log off and go get you some sex ed, chump. now...you have to not just lick there, but everywhere...find out what she reacts too, let the reactions inspire your movement. maybe you just like on the outside, right before the opening...maybe you slide your tounge in and out of it (i got a short ass tounge so i aint done too much tounge-fucking in my career). maybe you GENTLY open that flower up and put tight small circles around the clit...maybe you go viking style and just mash your whole damn mugpiece all on top of it and shake your head like that bamma on the Muppets that played drums in that band. you know who i'm talking about. (editor's note: the author is discussing animal, everyone's favorite wild ass muppet.) so yeah...you just gotta use your lips, mouth, tongue, face and be ATTENTIVE the whole time. don't be afraid of getting your nose, mustache, goatee, beard and eyebrows (yes, i go that hard) wet. just go in there and make your presence felt.

now i'm not sayin' i'm good at it now, but all that hoopin' and hollerin' i tend to be witness to can't all be an act, can it? i know good and damn well that if i ain't the best, i'm in the top 2% EASILY. i credit all my years of training on those sweet mangoes my Nana would buy from market. who knew that an innocent fruit would give rise to my most anticipated sexual activity. i'm telling you right now, if i ever have a son...we're gonna eat mangoes every day until we're sick of them. then when it's time to have "the talk", i can skip by the oral sex portion of it all. he'll know exactly what to do.


*again, i say unto you readers: I DID NOT WRITE THIS SHIT. really. my boy did. and i'm over here dying laughing at it. don't get all emo on me, okay? thanks.

random music-related links.

jesse boykins iii has a blog!

angela bofill is recovering bit by bit.

adele's 2nd single is "cold shoulder."

outkast + raekwon = fire. again.

i'm trying not to be a spoiled brat

but i don't genuinely know what "spoiled" is.
i deserve all of this.
the money, the praise, the relationships, the food, the wine . . . i've never once felt like i didn't deserve it. this is not to be confused w/ any sense of entitlement.
i work, i receive the fruits of my labor, and that's it. i have earned it all & i deserve it all.
i'm not able to apologize for it
i'm not willing to apologize for it
& i'm not going to.

gnarls barkley does it again.

one more time, cee-lo's voice is making me wish i could sing like that. dangermouse's production is sick. and the last track of the album? sick.to.death.

i'll be back w/ a full review later.