I Forgot How Hectic New York City Gets After A Snow Storm

I've only been away from the city for about two weeks, and I often forget how crazy things can get. I should have known how my Thursday night was going to wind up solely based on my train ride in.


My cousin/child Stephanie was heading downtown to her school to work on a project, and I decided I would go with her. Nothing out of the usual. Once the train went like 2 stops, we looked over to the left and saw a girl eating a ?sandwich? like it was a banana. Now if you have NEVER seen this, it is quite phenomenal thing. The chewing wasn't any better. She seemed to be chewing in tune to a song named "Welcome Home Kelli". Stephanie and I continued to shoot the shit about life, and the topic of names of our future children. Anyone who has said they never thought about the names of their future children is a lie in hell, but I digress. So there we were, exchanging baby name ideas, and this woman gives me an up down like no other, and I gave her an over dramatic but totally necessary killer look back. Apparently, this was hysterical to see me do, because Stephanie was laughing like she just saw Scarlet taking a tumble.



The night progressed swimmingly and we went to Stephanie's school so she could work on a project. I would like to shout out all the fashion students. Not only ois what they do very technical, its hard. At approximately 1:00 am EST, we left her campus to go home, and hopped in a cab. Now, it was not necessary to take a cab. We could have hopped on the train, and be home with time to spare by the time "dis shit right here" happened.
The driver pulled up behind her car and I used my debit card to pay the fare. It was approved, and I told him I didn't need a reciept. He told me, the "reciept looks funny" and for us to stay and wait for him to get confirmation that the fare was in fact paid. We waited. And waited. And waited. It was late and we got out the car. As I walked to the curb, the cab driver followed me and grabbed my arm and my purse. To make a long story less dramatic we were in the street fighting this man, the cops were called and my whole night went to shit. Did I mention it was only Thursday?


I thought that my Friday couldn't get any worse, and it didn't. But it came a little too close for my liking. The first thing I did was head to Chipotle because it is my crack. Then I went to INGLOT to purchase the new makeup I desperately needed. I purchased an eye shadow freedom system, which I am proud to say was a good investment. I can now fix my face to look extra fierce. I mosied my way from INGLOT and my only intention was to go see Percy Jackson, the ONLY thing I was looking forward to, and got heckled into buying a ticket to Dangerfield's. 


This was the night I found out that I truly hate Times Square. It's infested with hoodrats....and their kicks. Unfortunately, it took Ugg boots to make them appear less birdish. I let this slide because I was way too excited for my own good to see what I thought was going to be the best movie EVER. As usual, I was disappointed. Me, disappointed? Who knew. Whoever wrote the screenplay for The Lightning Thief definitely didn't plan to film a sequel. They left out the crucial part of the plot that strings them all together. I was so sad, I had to eat my feelings in sushi, and so at midnight, I made a trip to Planet Sushi to satisfy my craving. Speaking of sushi, my new favorite condiment is spicy mayo, which is weird because black people don't usually like mayonnaise. It takes my sushi high to a WHOLE NEW LEVEL. 


After that, my weekend got pretty lame. I spent the rest of it being a lazy house cat, no unlike my own cat. Somehow, I mustered up the energy to blog after a five day hiatus. Hopefully this week will be chock full o' tasty bits that make you feel better because you aren't living my life! 

Pre-Valentine's Day Thingy

Valentine's Day is just around the corner, and it's going to be just another day for me. That is unless Vicki invites me out to celebrate her big 22. I never realized how much emphasis is put on this holiday, until I went from single to taken and back to single. However, being with someone who can't give a good gift could be a deal breaker. Ideally, we are supposed to love people for who they are and I'm not saying I can be bought, but damn it, a fruit basket is NOT a good gift. V-Day 2009 was my first single one since my senior year of high school, and I must admit, that I had a blast. I learned that you don't necessarily need a significant other to enjoy this holiday of loorve.
Before Raul, my cousin/child Stephanie spent every waking moment with me because I was around. We ran some errands by our house, and bought some flowers to bring to Stephanie's grandma. Stephanie bought a violet, as her grandmas name is Violet. I bought myself a peach rose, that I wound up giving to Grams because I didn't feel like carrying it with me. But we eventually made our way into the city, so we could eat dinner at Ruby Foo's, a sushi place. Now I must inform you that Stephanie gets rull, rull frustrated when we go someplace that people know about. A typical response to asking her to go for a cup of coffee is usually "You know this isn't good coffee right? The next time we go for coffee, I'll take you to the left nook of the Grand Canyon to this undiscovered Indian reservation, with the best coffee!". That is an exaggeration, but barely.  Ruby Foo's was super crowded. Everyone in the restaurant was all boo'd up and we couldn't resist throwing shade to all the girls who had cute dates. Not to mention that there was an impeccable Asian couple next to us catching a Love Jones. [Editors Note: If there was an Asian family like the Kardashians, I want to be reborn into that mess] I give a huge amount of credit to the person who made the playlist. We were rocking out, and being our usual soulful selves and then the song that is tentatively my wedding song came on. I would say what it is, but it's a closely guarded secret. So this year, I have a decent date lined up with myself. Dinner and a movie, you know regular stuff, because I am a basic and regular girl. Nobody is salt and peppering my mango just yet, so I'm just going to love on myself. But I refuse to give myself a hug like at the end of the Mo'Nique show.
Thanks to this wonderful snogasm outside, the delivery of my shoes has been delayed. I really wanted to wear them on Friday and Valentine's Day, but an open toe pump in the middle of a blizzard is completely absurd, unless you are Amber Rose or Posh Spice. In my attempt to pull myself together, I have decided that when the warm weather comes, I will wear heels everyday. But not like little kitten heels, I want to appear to be a good 4 inches taller than I really am. Then again I don't know why I'm pulling out all the stops on myself. After all, it is just another day.

I Don't Even Drive My Bentley

I realized that my Super Bowl 44 post was kind of weak, so I'm going to give some extra effort today. Especially since I found out that I now have a grand total of TWO readers! That's right, count 'em, one AND two. It's really hard being as perfect as me, and I completely understand if you couldn't make it through that last statement without laughing.


For my last ever attempt at anything Super Bowl 44 related, Kim Kardashian and Reggie Bush are not going to get married just yet. I mean a marriage should not be based on a football game; that's too risky. It should be based on the love you have for one another. And yes I did learn that point from eHarmony. Kim is also a good six years older than Reggie. She was also married once before. Remember that? When she was 19 (ten years ago mind you) and she eloped. Or the fact that no self respecting man, would want Ray-J's sloppy seconds. I mean she is a pretty face, and if I had the Crayola people to make up my face everyday, I imagine I could stop traffic too. If you watch the show, you know that the whole Klan of Kardasian Krazies is out of control. Can we even be sure they were football fans before Kim and Reggie were dating? That would me that they would have to admit to like Ray J's music, and that's just preposterous. If they do get married, it's a publicity stunt, or she's pregnant. If she was really scheming, she should know that between now and next month would be the time to trap him. I was talking to a friend of mine and we came to the conclusion that Kim Kardashian is NOT as rich as she says she is. She drives her own Bentley, but rich people have drivers. Hey, we can't all be P. Diddy.


Before we get started, I have a new prop to make me seem cooler, as it improves my already awesome party trick of opening beer bottles with my teeth. Now don't go telling people that I shop at Hot Topic. I feel like my fiscally responsible, totally happy, 21 year old self is cheating on life with my emo, teenage angsty self. These are some really dope platform stilettos that will eventually break my ankle when my friend Tequila fails me yet again. But they have bottle openers in the heels. If it were anyway at all to out fantastic anything fantastic, this would be it.


Blanyway, I am a huge movie fan, mainly because movies are exponentially more entertaining than anything that will ever happen to me. There are so many good movies that are coming out this year, Iron Man 2, Shrek: The Final Chapter and Avatar: The Last Airbender are some of my must sees. However, my most obvious choice would be Percy Jackson and The Olympians: The Lightening Thief, in theaters this Friday. I will be seeing this movie for my Valentines Day date. Don't be silly, we all know I'm going with my single self. When I took my cousin/child Brittany to see New Moon (again), we saw a coming attraction for Percy Jackson, we squealed like 14 year olds. The main problem being that she really is 14 and I am not. Thankfully we were savvy enough to go to Barnes and Nobles expressly after the movie to buy the entire series of books. This is a series of books based on Greek mythology, and seeing as I was a Classics scholar in high school, I eat this shit up like it is candy. Nectar of the gods if you will. I am currently trying to muster up enough energy to finish book 4. It's not that I don't want to read it, I just don't have the time to sit down and read with my crazy television and Netflix schedules. I am actually quite scared to see it, because I get quite upset when when movies aren't true to the book. Even though this worked out quite well for Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs.


Mondays are especially intense for television schedule. I have to watch RuPaul's Drag Race, and Untucked mainly because my veins will be itching uncontrollably if I do not. But for those of you who have any free time on Mondays between 8 and 9 pm, let me hook you up to this little gem called: The Secret Life of the American Teenager. This show is about sex. Who is doing it, who isn't doing it, who should and shouldn't be doing it and of course the MANY different combinations and styles of doing it. This show is completely JUICY. The producers of TSLOTAT have proven that there is no shortage of drama in high school. I had NO idea there was that much sex around me when I was high school. High school sex was Angelo after football practice, and that was good enough. Molly Ringwald is in it, and so is that girl that played Bernie Mac's niece, Vanessa. If you want to catch up, there is a marathon on Monday, February 15 at 2pm. Seven full hours, and I am parking my tuchus in front of the television for all of them. Bottom line, the show is good, and have I ever steered you wrong?


Now for our grand finale, a recap of RuPaul's Drag Race. When we last left our heroines, they were asked to create outfits based on the Scarlett O'Hara idea of making an outfit out of curtains and used home furnishings. Morgan McMichaels won, because her look was very Cher Geefani, a mix of Cher and Fergie and Gwen Stefani. Mystique used her one and only party trick, a big girl split, to save her soul, and Shangela was sent home. The mini challenge this week was to transform a RuPaul doll into a whore. If anyone knows where to find one of these dolls, and is feeling generous, please feel free to buy me one. I promise you my second born child and my spare kidney. This mini challenge determined the team captains for the main challenge. And that challenge was burlesque dancing, The teams had a choreographed dance and solo dances. My least favorite person of the episode was Tyra , and I hoped that she was the one to go home this week, but despite her serving fish and bitch, she was safe. The bottom two were Raven, who will "take your man" and Nicole Page Brooks, a southern saloon madame. They lip synced to En Vogue's Never Gonna Get It. Raven rocked it, especially when she sanctioned all the other queens to sing back up during the breakdown. We all no that in my Valhalla, there will be drag queens doing 90s style breakdowns.


Seeing as I am in desperate need of getting my hair done, my journey to becoming a Gay Icon is a dream detoured.

Pass Dat Guacamole!

The Super Bowl is the Holy Land of the NFL. Every year millions of people tune in to watch for their own reasons. For some, its the commercials, for the others its the half time show and for me, it's research for finding who the fine men in NFL are. However, this year my purpose is to throw shade to Kim Kardashian.  Like I wonder if the Kardashian Klan would be Saints fans if they didn't have a personal stake in the matter. I originally planned on updating my Facebook statuses to make snide remarks at her, like Kim Kardashian wears a size 6 HAHAHA, but then I realized I'm giving her free publicity. But I digress. Before we get into the meat of things, I would like to say that this post will not get into the schematics of football. However, if you don't know anything about football, we cannot be friends. 


The commercials I anticipated the most, were the ones that failed miserably. I wanted the Tim Tebow commercial with the anti abortion message to be more touching. Not him tackling his mother. I mean he is a quarterback, at least have his mother catch a ball or get hit in the face. ANYTHING but what I got. I'm not a fan of Bud Light, but the commercials were fantastic. They were very creative. The commercial of the night that catered to the old woman in me was the Snickers commercial with Betty White and Abe Vigoda. The company that did THE BEST with their advertising was Doritos. "Keep your hands off my momma and don't touch my Doritos", accompanied by a slap, was the greatest thing I saw in the first half. Needless to say, that wouldn't have gone down had he hit that lil nigga with a freeze pop. When the second half came along, the Saints' Pierre Thomas scored, after I found out he was cute (moving anyway, because he is NOT photogenic), I was hit with the gem of Stevie Wonder playing Punch Buggy. How genius is that, because he's blind.


I'm not a rock fan. I get down with it occasionally but I need variety. When they announced that The Who would be be performing, I was less than thrilled. I like for my halftime show to have some soul. Thankfully, Queen Latifah was the redemption The Who. I would have preferred Rihanna, and we all know how I feel about her. As a sidenote, how cool would it be if someone could actually pull Troy Polamalu out of a hole, and if he saw his shadow we had 6 more weeks of football? That would be fantastic. Reggie Bush hasn't really done work in the past three seasons. He was eye candy and rightfully so because is DAMN FOINE. I put my money on the Saints solely because of Reggie Bush's cover of Essence. And If I ever hear that Kim had a problem with her man posing nekkid with his nipples out, I have a few things to say about that. But he did work for this game. I was honestly impressed. When they won, my first thought was "I'm rich bitch" even though I am not really a gambler. Nobody I know predicted the correct score. I was a little over zealous with my prediction with the Saints scoring 41 points, but whatever.


Hopefully the Saints will have a good season next year too, because the Steelers had an epically bad season after their SuperBowl 43 win. 


Lastly, everyone who doubts T-Pain, he's making his PAPER!

Random Bites for Your Midnight Snack

• I am officially addicted to Twitter. I know I'm way behind on this #trend see what I did there?), but it is an outlet for me to express little random thoughts. More than tweeting, I enjoy reading whatever the people have to say on the trending topics. The other the #trendingtopic was #celebritypasswords. I nearly pissed myself with some of the ones people came up with. I follow all the celebrities like we are best friends. Like Plies, who we all know I am in love with, and The Game who is so ignorant sometimes its laughable. This was a tweet from The Game yesterday:  nigga "MY BITCH" gettin the pussy ate ERE'DAY if that's what she want !!! tired ah y'all niggas actin like songs 4 the gyrls aint the shit I don't think words can describe how badly I want him.

• My drag queen name is: Aida Hiddyt. I thinks its funny, but not as funny as Kay Sedilla.

• I often find myself attracted to guys who look like my ex. Guys like Jon Seda, who play Chris Perez in the movie Selena. Also, as creepy as it sounds, while watching Snapped, I found one of the victims really cute. But hey, at least I'm consistent.

Bare Essentials of Insomnia

When I was in high school, the quintessential hood rat phone was the T-Mobile Sidekick. I was miles behind the pack and had a Motorola V3 RZR. Though I did eventually get a then coveted Sidekick, I'm not so sure that my transition to a smart phone was a healthy one. I invested in a Sidekick 3 because my Razor had been shot to shit by my excessive use. Even though, I mainly used it to argue with my then boyfriend. The back light died, then the speaker went and one night in my dorm room, I decided I needed a newer, more durable phone. We all know that cell phone companies are a racket and of course I was ineligible for an upgrade on a bogus technicality. So I took to ebay.com to find a Sidekick and when it arrived, I was very excited in a very dorky way.

My 'Kick had me addicted with the first IM. I could be reached at anytime and it was all in the palm of my hand. I liked the Sidekick because it was quite exclusive to my campus. I was one of three people who had it. With this phone, I became a texting whiz. I PBd at 160 characters in under a minute. Ringtones?!?!? Bitch please! I had a different ringtone for every person in my contacts. This was all well and good...in Springfield. I often forget that I come from an urban area where hood shit is prevalent. I came home to find that EVERYONE had the exact same phone. But I had tasted the nectar from the Smartphone tree, and there was no turning back. I dabbled in phones including a later model of the Sidekick, and when I changed to Sprint, a diet Sidekick which was more like a nemesis. I eventually settled down with my Blackberry and it is the third hemisphere of my brain. I CANNOT survive without it.

It allows me to do absolutely heinous things like draft a blog entry at 4:14 AM, eastern standard time, all for my 1 reader. This phone keeps me connected to all sorts of useless shit: Facebook, Twitter, Blackberry Messenger, AIM, Yahoo Messenger, and my necessary, yet useless email. Rarely do I use it to make phone calls, which is a sign that the tech world needs to get back to basics.

That was a completely useless and irrelevant back story about trying not to look like a sketch ball by typing away on my phone under the covers to tell a story. But I wanted my reader to know how much she has me committed to keeping our bi-coastal creeping aflame. What I really wanted to talk about was infomercials. While I'm stuck battling a slight bout of insomnia, I've been watching some infomercials. The people behind these things are brilliant.

Late at night, or in the wee hours of the morning, most of the world is fast asleep. So why advertise when theoretically every one is supposed to be in dreamland? Because these products cater to the poor sleepless souls of America. Four times this week I came thisclose to ordering some makeup to cover my unsightly under eye circles. Ironically, I wouldn't see this commercial or need this product if I wasn't up at this forsaken hour.

Give Me Face!

I think this point has been blatantly obvious since the late 1990s, but reality television is intensely addicting. This week there was a slight change in my sleeping pattern, causing me to stay up until about seven in the morning. Now knowing me, sleep is probably the one thing I can do better than anyone else, simply because I am a lazy bones. I wish the world would see that I am not lazy, I am in fact resting up for my thirties, but I don’t see that happening.

Although I am a lover of cartoons, I have taken some time out from my animated roots and have spent countless hours loving reality television. Just in case you have been living under a rock for the past year or so, the baby making business is BOOMING. Who cares if obnoxiously sized families are eating through the world’s already limited resources? I sure as hell don’t because it makes for some good television. Most recently, I have taken a liking to the Duggar family…again. My relationship with the Duggars began sometime in 2007. That was when there were only 15 Duggars. However tonight, there is the delivery of the 19^th Duggar baby, and I could not be more excited…for all the wrong reasons.

The Duggars are a conservative Christian family. All the kids are home schooled. The girls don’t wear bikinis, or pants. They all dress in super essential basics. In theory, this is ideal. They want people to pay attention to their countenance. We can be thankful that they have fabulous genes, because I do not think this would fly so well had they been ugly and needed brand names to make up for their imperfections. But if I had to be reborn into a different family, it’s a toss up between the Kardashians and the Duggars. They spend their time driving across the country, doing all sort of fun things like being in plays and whatnot. One of my favorite things about the show is that we get little trivia tidbits through out the show. Things like they love pickles, or that if all of her pregnancies were consecutive, Momma Duggar would be pregnant for 13 years or something like that.

For the most part the Duggar kids are normal and healthy, but now I’m beginning to wonder when they are going to get a little spice in their lives. I really want to see a baby with like six fingers or something. On the last episode, Michelle Duggar, the woman who has delivered every single one of the Duggar children through her Super Cervix, announces that she is pregnant. She thought that she couldn’t possibly be pregnant because she’s in a later stage of life than most women who have babies. Actually, the youngest Duggar, Jordyn still has a loose neck when the pregnancy is announced.

Michelle Duggar is actually very cool. Sarah Palin wises she was maverick like this lady. Did you know that only three weeks after giving birth, PREMATURELY, to baby 19, she was at a rally to ban alcohol from local convenience stores. Well actually, I don’t agree with this, but the point is, she’s a little Viking.

Another guilty pleasure of mine is drag queens. Obviously, RuPaul’s drag race is the complete essential. If I were every half the woman RuPaul was, I’d die happy. Basically, the queens compete in weekly challenges, you know same old thing. They make their own costumes and go from men to women and are judged by a panel of judges. But it gets better, the queens in the bottom two get to battle it out one last time to save themselves. They get to lip sync. Is that not the best idea ever? Could you imagine if the world’s problem were solved by a no holds barred lip sync battle? I would only perform Mariah Carey songs. And maybe a Celine Dion ballad. The hoodrat in me would prefer a little bit of Mary J. Blige, and more specifically, Real Love. Anyway a new season began last night. I wasn’t all that impressed with the queens. My favorite got eliminated. But my next favorite is Jessica Wild, who is Puerto Rican, from San Juan. I hope she wins it all.

They even have an after show called “Untucked”. I need this person to script my life. My new secondary goal in life may be to become a Gay Icon, because that seems to work out well.