Thursday, May 28, 2009

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.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

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!!!

Friday, May 8, 2009

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?