There was a young woman who lived in her shoes....

Sooooo its not really a secret that I have been doing that Beyonce dance a lot lately....you know, the single ladies' move? not 'cause I think it's pure hotness....not 'cause i'm out here living la vida loca for delf.  that's right boys and girls...your homie is officially single.  i know....i know....cry me a river.  my attempts to knock will and jada out of the top slot for everyone's favorite black couple have been foiled. but have no fear, I will not allow any additional distractions to keep me from those who truly love and adore me....y'all mo'fos.

so, since I've been doing that damndamndamn dance, i've had to step my shoe game up a pinch.  don't get me wrong.  mami's shoe game has always been a little mean, even if on a budget.  recently, though, I've had to up it to NASTY proportions.  I'm on some Carrie Bradshaw shit these days.  I may live in the hood, but this hood bitch got her ass a shoe closet AND enough room for all my clothes so nah!!.

As I've been spending more and more time getting pedis, waxing, and buying anything that makes my long tanned and toned gams look like I should have them in somebody's coppertone ad or using them to hail a cab or a knight in shining armor or something, I've begun to realize how much I totally adore my shoes.  Like, when I was with dude, I liked shoes, but now that he's out, I LOVE my shoes and part of that comes from the fact that shoes are better than a significant other.  I came to this conclusion recently after speaking with the homie Odieceus about an outing he recently had with a pair of fresh kicks.  He compared the attention he received from his foot couture to walking down the street with a bad chick.

I'm gonna have to agree with him on that one.  The difference between walking with a bad chick/dude and wearing some hot kicks is that YOU become the bad chick or bad dude when your footwear is FLAWLESS.  Everyone is checking for you and wondering what other visusal  delicacies you may have in store for them back at the crib instead of trying to figure out how to bag your arm candy.

I have a pair  that make me feel like I am She-Diddy 'cause in them, I am unstoppable.  

I bullshit you not.  

I got another pair....when I throw them on, there is no stopping me.  Miss Jay and Tyra could take notes on the walk I serve.  and the boys looooooove them.

I keep it gully too.  I don't just give you girl.  I've upped the anty in my dunks/sneaks game a little too.  Not too much, 'cause I'm honestly not trying to be too butch, but I got a few e'sclusives hidden away. lol

It is because of this epiphany that I have decided to list the reasons that shoes are better than significant others.

Ahem.....

REASON #1: Shoes last longer than most relationships.  

Unless you're shopping hard at Family Dollar for your footwear, this is sad, but true.  I had a bf in high school who bought me a pair of boots.  It was such a big deal and I thought we were going to last forever.  It was the most expensive (and only) present a boy ever bought for me and he made me so happy every time I wore them. I still have the boots.  Him? not so much....

REASON #2: Cute shoes may increase your property value.

You ever woke up next to someone and had one of those moments like in Knocked Up where Seth Rogan looks at Katherine Hiegel and says  "You are sooo much hotter than me?"  Chances are, your gear was fly the day (or drunken night as the case may be) when you bagged your shorty.  I don't speak from experience here....(after all, I'm always the hotter one) but I have heard from some of my less hot friends that they looked dope so they felt dope.  When you feel extra fly, it ups your (I SOOOO DON'T WANNA USE THIS WORD) swagger (threw up a little...sorry) and draws other fly people to you like flies to a bug lamp.  Fix up look sharp homie.

REASON #3: If they hurt, you can take them off.

Shoes are an awesome article of clothing/accessory because they are intended to compliment whatever it is you have on.  When and if your shoes start to hurt your mootsie tootsies, you can always take them off and chuck them into the closet. Or if you're me, remove them  carefully, place them in the labeled clear shoe box where they belong and keep them sorted by color and heel height. If only there was a closet where I could have removed him from my life and stuffed him in until I felt like I could handle him again.  Seriously...anyone got one?

REASON #4:  If they hurt, you can always upgrade.

I read recently that women don't cheat, they upgrade.  Heeeeey!!! When my cheap flip flops hurt, I put on my more expensive and flier shoes.  When a bum dude starts to be too much work, throw on your fuck me pumps, hit the town, and let your shoes upgrade you to a better caliber of life.  

I was told with my new shoe game and my single status, I can start dating dudes in a higher tax bracket.  Six figures here I come!!!!! teeeheee  I kid...I kid....but actually.....

OOH OOH WAIT!!!

Public Service Announcement

Please do not shell out big $$$$ or any for that matter on some fly shoes if you are not taking care of your feet.  It's more than just getting the pedis folks.  

Get thee to a podiatrist and get the bunions, hammer toes and irregular foot issues resolved before you squeeze your fat steak foot into something meant for a little Asian lady's foot and make me throw up from watching your heel fat ooze out the back of your sling backs and your toes looking like Siamese twins connected at the brain.  

That's not gangsta.

If you can afford the shoes, afford the work that goes into making sure your feet are looking right in them.  Otherwise, don't buy them.  It's a sign of good breeding and class to take care of your feet and your teeth so pick that extra long second toe up of the ground when it hangs over the front of your platforms and go get you some Crest Whitestrips.

The Single Girl's Perfect Accessory for Summer

Hey Ladies!!
I know so many of you are clamoring searching for the next big thing. Some of you trend followers and wanna-be fashionistas are UBER thirsty to have the new hotness as the weather starts trying to act right and u wanna be out and about. U know this bitch will always come through for my girls. I.Got.You.

This summer's fly shit to have to ensure you will have a ball all the time and be fawned upon by people near and far is.....drumroll please....

A Gay Boyfriend.

For those of you who may scoff, allow me to elaborate.
Picture this...Chocolate City....early 1990's.

A young fly chick with style, panache and flavor for days, but not the courage to let the whole world know her full flyness. This little girl had big dreams of becoming a famous writer and theater practitioner...Brave though she was, she longed for a partner in crime whose fabulosity could help awaken her inner fierceness.She had Donna Summer's #1 Fan, and the two of them did well at supporting and encouraging each other, but something was missing.


Fast forward a bit to the mid 1990s..1997 to be precise. This fly shorty found herself in ATL. More of a grown up, but still a little timid, until she met a man who would change her life eternally. She met Kunty Kenny, from that point until forever to be known as her fairy godmother.
The two of them commenced a relationship that would stand the test of time....surviving the good and the bad boyfriends, bad fiances, bad booty calls, and most of all the bad hair days. They had a marriage of sorts because they were there for each other through real life and managed to push through major events with perfect poise and accessories.

I totally heart Kunty Kenny.

Make no mistake, in saying that the Gay Boyfriend is the perfect summer accessory, I do not want to underscore how important he is to me and how important yours can be to you. GBF's are like the Voltron of BFFS.

They can roll with you and have do nothing hang out sessions like with your chick friends. They are the BEST to shop with or play dressup with because they understand the performance elements of everyday life. They can do all this and still go out for a meal with you, gaze @ you lovingly, be a shoulder for you to cry on or arms for you to sob in and they will always reaffirm any frazzled feelings left from the ex-asshole as only a man can.When you've cried enough, he'll make u lipsynch for your life to cheer you up!

And honey, NOBODY does brunch like your GBF can do brunch.

I guess I wanted to write this today because I owe a lot to Kenny and realized that I may not tell him as often as I'd like to how happy I am to have a friend and big sister like him. So in honor of mother's day, this post is dedicated to my fairy godmother. LOVE THOSE!! Snaps for the kids!!!

Brand New

(Before I begin, I should preface this post with the following disclaimer: this is not all me. I have compiled this post from several convos. Don't shoot the messenger. Lol)

What the eff is it abt Posh shit that just makes a bitch feel so effin' fly? I don't drop labels, I drop niggas, but I have to say, there is something extra sexy about wanting something hot with a pricetag comparable to my rent and knowing I can swing it on my own. Not that I would, everytime...but....

I remember when I first started out on my hustle and I was a levis girl. It wasn't because I couldn't afford better, but because I hadn't learned the value of retail therapy, even if I was only going to be a window shopper like Lily Allen's Nan. (Not a diss. She has a whole song about it and I totally Stan for Lily Allen.)

I've been listening to the music of the yout' a lot lately and between hearing about Soldier Boy putting his swag on and Jamie Foxx skeeting on himself 'cause his chick "got her own," I started to examine my flyness.

(Sidebar:I refuse to speak on "swag" unless I'm copping free shit from an event. The phrase is sooooo November 2008. PS according to Donna Summer's #1 Fan's GBF, if u have to put it on, then you have no swag. You're just a lame in nice gear.)

I digress...

Upon examining my flyness under closer scrutiny, and realizing that I'm not doing all that bad by my damnself, I consider the import of actually being able to have one's own. I must admit, I am mildly confused as I had just gotten used to hearing T.I. croon that I, or whomever he's really singing to, could have "whatever I like." Now I'm celebrated 'cause I got my own? Which is it fellas? Do u want a sugar momma who can buy you a short set, (hey bey!) or are you looking to be someone's cake daddy?

And what happens when having your own goes wrong?

What is the ettiquite for a boss bitch like yours truly who has her own and is venturing out into a world of delectable summer weather suitors?

I only ask this because I've never been entirely comfortable having a dude cake for me. I'd like for him to have his own, but the notion of being "taken care of" has always made me wildly uncomfortable. Probably 'cause I'm a turned out tomboy and hanging with the brothers and cousins and fellas for most of my yout' has given me painful insight to how niggas think. Not all of y'all, but still...

The deeper and realer reason is I am not just a boss bitch. I'm also a bossy bitch and I like to be in charge. This can definitely be a problem. I don't mean to try and run things....whatever.

Is it still polite to assume I can have whatever I want?

What if what I want is uber posh and reasonable by my standards, but not by someone else's?

Is it a deal breaker if a dude can't afford my drink?

What do you do when you have champagne tastes on a beer bottle wallet? LMAO!!!

Thoughts?

what's the difference between a coach and a cheerleader?

first off...

THANK G-D FOR THE WARM WEATHER!!!! a chick was straight 'bout to bust waiting for the sun to decide to be out for more than 15 minutes a day.

but on to the real topic of today's post:

what is the difference between a coach and a cheerleader? i recognize that a bunch of my sports fans will take offense to comparing the two, but since most sports metaphors are offered from a male perspective, i felt like this was a topic that deserved further exploration.

i have been going THROUGH dear reader, and this is why i have been MIA for such an extended period of time. by no means did i intend to abandon all four of my fans like that. lmao. but shit has been real in the battlefield for your girl. life is all about growth and changes and sometimes, those changes happen a little bit faster than we'd like them to. my life over the past month is a prime example of this.

among some of the realizations that i've made as of late was that one man's cheerleader is another man's coach. through the course of interactions with someone, i felt like i was being encouraging, supportive and rah rah shish boom bah-ish like a cheerleader. i was promptly corrected and told that i was actually not a cheerleader, but rather i was always scratching and clawing for the coach position. assumedly, i was labeled as this because my encouragement often came in the form of directive suggestions on how an individual could improve their attempts and have more positive outcomes.

now, i have been a cheerleader and i have been a cheerleading coach. in looking at some of the cheers, i can't understand what really separates the two other than uniform and a whistle. here's an example of a cheer my girls do:

dribble it
shoot shoot
just put that ball through the
hoop hoop
put it up and in
put it up and in
score two
come on let's win!!!

if anyone ever sat and actually listened to the words of cheers, they would discover that there is absolutely NO difference between what the cheerleaders say and the pep talk the team gets in the locker room. i know dudes may take issue with being ordered around by a squad of scantily clad chicks, but at the end of the day, it really is the same fucking thing.

some may argue that the cheerleaders aren't there to encourage the team, but rather they are there to keep the crowd motivated and energized because that in turn will keep the team crunk. doesn't that essentially make them passive coaches then? if the coach's job is to direct and motivate the team, then how are they so different?

ultimately, what the fuck is wrong with being someone's coach anyway? if life isn't panning out for them as they see fit, why is it such a big deal to try to help them by either cheering or being a coach? i'd love my own personal pep squad or coach when life started to bring me down.... thoughts?

ummm....yeah

so, I have been avoiding addressing this for quite some time because when I first saw it, it pissed me off and upset me so much I didn't quite know what to do with myself.

when I was on vacay, moms and I pulled up next to a bus that had one of the most obnoxious ads I've ever seen. in my own defense, ordinarily, I have a real sick sense of humor and will laugh at some of the strangest things.  I try not to laugh at the sick, wounded, or physically broken, except for fat fuckers, but I am that bitch that'll laugh when a kid busts his ass, or when someone trips on the bus.  

ordinarily, the tongue in cheek, the ignorant and the stupid is amusing to me.  like the Western Union ad beloved and I saw yesterday. it had one of the blackest mo'fo's you've ever seen in your life looking like everyone's stereotypical African sambo with the words "can I send money to Africa for cheap....YES!" scrawled across the  picture. if i'd really felt like jumping up on my NAACP soapbox and protesting this shit, ('cause my president is black you know?) I prolly could've....but I just don't really care that much anymore about racial ignorance and cruelty.

the ad I saw with moms, really fucked with me.  it read:

Some of the NICEST people die of lung cancer.  We hope you won't be one of them. www.demandacatscan.org

there was no picture. no fancy layout. just a bullshit few lines of text that really irked the fuck out of me. I found myself wishing that whoever the dickhead was who made this ignorance up was struck with every kind of cancer imaginable.

I know it is a bad thing to wish cancer on someone.  I've lost a few family members to cancer so for me, for someone to be so flippant about it is really stupid and insensitive.  One of my grandmothers, who never smoked a day in her life, wasn't exposed to toxic chemicals or any of the other shit they say can cause lung cancer and who went to the dr.'s office once a month at least, died of lung cancer that no one found until it was too late and she was the nicest old lady anyone could've met.

fuck demandacatscan.org and fuck Keiser Permanente

I had an epiphany on the train today.  I realized why so many couples are miserable and unhappy with their relationship. 

Technology, that cold hearted bitch, pulled an arrow from his quiver and sliced Cupid's throat open.  

Romance is on life support and I blame electricity. 

There are far too fucking many ways to be in constant contact with the rest of the world.  Cell phone, house phone, email, text message, instant message, blackberry instant message, pagers, two way radios, facebook, myspace, twitter, blogs, skywriting.....

Everyone of these intended to keep people in constant contact and giving updates to everyone about everything that happens in your day. But what really happens is each one of these media of the heartless equates to one more way for someone to feel neglected or forgotten.   

With all these avenues of communication, it is hard to believe that someone may ever actually be in a drop zone or legitimately be busy and unable to answer the infinite ways you are cyber stalking them.

It is impossible to feel romantic or spontaneous or eager to be near someone when you know their every move throughout the course of the day.

"Bobby Lynn is eating a bagel and not caring about carbs."

Who gives a fuck?!

The people on those dumb ass networking sites are not your friends. 

They don't honestly give a fuck about your stupid ass 'cause if they did, they would meet with you in person and share a face to face conversation with you over coffee or a meal instead of instant messaging you random observations from their daily activities. 

Does anyone remember when it was a big deal to call your parents at work?  I used to have to be bleeding from the head to interrupt my father at work.  He would get soooooo tight with me if I called him at work.  

I don't think my grandmother ever called my grandfather at work unless it was a complete and dire emergency, of the burning-house-aliens-landing-and-snatching-our-children variety.  

That form of distance probably sounds bizarre in this day and age, but when he got home from work, they did something most of us NEVER do....

They would kiss and hug and share dinner with their children with the TV off. They would act like a family. Laughing and talking and sharing conversation with each other.

Why don't we have anything really to talk about over our meals? 

Why is it easier to congregate in front of the TV and chew with our mouths open instead of sharing delightful anecdotes about what we've been through?

I don't think it has anything to do with that ridiculous book and movie about ________ just not being into ___________.  I think it has more to do with the fact that we're all far too fucking into each other and in constant contact with one another.  

Doesn't absence make the heart grow fonder?

How can we be absent from one another when we are only ever physically apart but still completely around each other technologically?

I mean, its all good to be able to holla at your homegirls about whatever random foolishness that crosses your mind, and to keep up with your children when they are away from home or traveling without you, but is it absolutely necessary to call your honey as much as you do?

Is it because of distrust, or because you genuinely have that much to share with whomever?

I know a gang of you tried to say it's cause you wanted to let your lover know everything that crosses your mind every time it crosses your mind.  The truth or the matter is you're doing it because you don't trust that when they don't pick up their phone, it's cause they can't so you call again and again and again. 

You call to the point that you become a pest and when they finally answer, the conversation becomes more about "Why the fuck didn't you answer the phone?" instead of whatever it was that you originally wanted to share.  

When did it stop being ok to not want to talk on the phone?  

I mean, just because you can get in constant contact with someone, does that alleviate them from the right not to want to be in constant contact?

What happens when you start updating your facebook status less and less and everyone gets worried about you 'cause it's been 2 days since you last logged in?  

When people start policing how long it has been since you last instant messaged them, claiming to be worries about you instead of calling you to check on you, then you know you have a technology problem.

Everyone needs to get over themselves and stop fucking being so much in each other's space and face. Take a breath and just live life in the moment and in your own skin and not worry so damn much about what everyone around you is doing.

Hang up the phone, close all of your networking sites, and the next time you feel like paging or texting someone you care about, write those thoughts into a  letter, and save it, along with all of your bullshit stories about your day to share over a hot meal with the tv off.

Or you could just buy one of these for his ass and never have to wonder what he's up to:

www.roameoforpets.com

If I only lost my brain...

RADAR, one of my favorite magazines folded, again, and since i had already paid up my subscription, their publisher felt like a good substitute was to send me STAR magazine for the remainder of my subscription.

have ya'll ever read STAR? 

it has become a glossy magazine in recent years, but once upon a time, it was a big oversized color newspaper-like publication with some of those stories about alien babies and watermelons that look like the virgin mary. 

but have y'all read it lately.  when it comes in, i feel like i should hide it because just reading it makes my vocabulary suddenly feel stunted. like, for real....looking at the pages of that magazine, 'cause you can't really read something that has everything in title font, makes me feel like I should be riding on the short bus. 

in spite of this, it seems like the photos splashed across the pages are all anyone can seem to talk about.  I found myself today trying to discuss Obama's stance on educational reform, and someone felt like it was more interesting to chat about the surprise season finale of the bachelor where Jason proposed to one girl but really loves the other girl.... "and OMG, we were gonna find out on the top secret reunion special, but they totally leaked the info before hand..." 

I realized then that I was too smart for much of the world.  Soooooo, I have decided to actively lobotomize myself through reality tv and tabloid magazines.

I need to expand my reality tv horizons!

Donna Summer's #1 Fan told me that on the season opener of Keeping Up w/the Kardashians, Kim was taking pictures of herself en route to taking her sister, Khloe, to jail. 

(insert confused Scooby Doo sound here)

see...I had no idea it was going down like that on E! i miss out on all the good shit.  thank g-d for my dvr.  i will never miss another glorious moment of the Jenner-Kardashian clan's tomfoolery.

back to STAR magazine.....

why is everyone still so concerned about lindsay lohan?  what's the big effin' deal about her 

anyway?  honestly, who cares? 

so what she's back on drugs and drinking again... apparently, she's been photographed with traces of a white substance lining the rim of her nostrils and she tried to say it was lint.  shorty, just be real and admit what you're up to....or at the very least come up with a better cover story.  

boogers, maybe? everybody's had one of those lone boogers that has dangled embarrassingly and drawn the attention of someone you really didn't want to see it.  

don't front for me, you know it's happened to you.

who gives a shit that she's gay for play and letting saMAN..that...ronson slobber on her pink taco?

why does any of this matter in the face of all that is going wrong in our society?

why is everyone acting surprised that LiLo is out of control again?

what else could she do to stay relevant? star in another movie that she slows up the production on before it tanks? get bent in a club with her mom? 

(I swear I'd make a killing if I created the Gypsy Rose School of Momagers: How to Stagemom With Style, Finesse, Class, and an Iron Fist. Some of the bitches really forget that to be a Momager, you have to first be a Mom, and not your lil'shawty's bff....)

shouldn't she be in vh1's charm school or some shit?

whatever happened to that reality show that The Donald was supposed to be putting together with LaLohan, Amy Crackhouse and pre-comeback-Britney?  Can we put forth a motion for Lily Allen to take her place? ooooh no....Kate Motherfucking Moss!

I'd love to watch them go at it over who gets the last 8ball or figure out who's turn it is to take out all the liquor bottles in the trash. Chile, the trashy ass bar scum they'd bring home after banging in the alley would so be like outtakes of the HBO biopic GIA (Loved Angelina in that before she became the white incarnation of Josephine Baker.)

PS Samantha Ronson is not fucking hot.  

In fact, she is the complete antithesis of hot.  She is sooo unhot, I wouldn't let her eat me with YOUR pussy, a tongue vibrator while stoned and drunk out of my skull and if her saliva had the antibodies I needed to live forever and cure AIDS and cancer.

we're supposed to take solace in the fact that this lesbo's coat rack of a "lover" (wink wink) is not wasting her$$$ on drugs, but rather that people are gifting her the cocaine. 'cause that's what real friends do.  

friends don't let friends pay for drugs.  

who the fuck can afford to sponsor someone else's habit in this fucked up ass economy we're living in? can they hook a sister up? 

NO FOOL!

I do not toot that powder...I'm always trying to get my side hustle on.  I'd take all that free coke and flip that shit so quick, you'd swear I was a gymnast!

Donna Summer's #1 Fan claims that a)"that mess is pricey" and times are too hard for anyone to buy coke so I wouldn't make much from it and b) that's why people smoke crack.

to that I say: I've got baking powder, what's good?