Happy Birthday To Ya!

I love birthdays. I mean how could someone not love birthdays. I also believe in the zodiac, and I think the sign I am most comopatable with is a Pisces. The majority of my close friends are Pisces. But today, I'm am celebrating the birthday of my favorite Pisces, Ryan Harris of the Denver Broncos. He turns 25 today. And my obsession with him borders on unhealthy.  In the off chance he's mortal and Googles himself, and this post comes up, and he clicks on it, I just want to say: HAPPY  BIRTHDAY RYAN EMERSON WILCOX HARRIS! From your number one fan.

When I say that Ryan Harris is the most alluring, gorgoeus man I have ever laid eyes on, I'm not joking. I started holding people to the Ryan standard. Which worked out quite well until I figured out that the only person who can be Ryan Harris is Ryan Harris, and that's most likely why my ass was single.  I first fell in love with Ryan when I was 14 (almost 15)  years old. I was sittin up in my room one summer day watching MTV. There was a new episode of True Life on called True Life: I Want The Perfect Body. It was about people who desired to change themselves without getting plastic surgery. The other people in the episode were a blur. As a matter of fact, I can only remember the mousy girl who wanted to be a fitness model. But Ryan, who was a senior in high school had to gain like 30 pounds of healthy weight in order to start for Notre Dame in the fall. When you first see Ryan in the episode he's sitting in class on the last day of his senior year. He's wearing a blue shirt and glasses and he seems like the hot guy who doesn't know he's hot. God he's so adorable, which is the first thought I had about him. But that's not when I realized that his milkshake brought me and held me captive in the yard.

The next time we see him, its at a graduation party later that same night. This was that cosmic moment that I knew he was put on this earth was for me. He leaves the party early to go to, get this, Chipotle! Chipotle is my one and only vice. I once suffered from a mild addiction to Chipotle, but that's another story. Ryan proceeds to prove that he's not a dumb ass and breaks down his burrito by nutritional value. So not only does he look good, he knows his shit and his voice is downright magical. His voice sounds like Fergie had a baby with Jesus. Just kidding. He talks like Jahiem sings, to me anyway. So you would think he couldn't out fantastic himself, we join him again making his breakfast. He makes one bagel with cream cheese and then says "I'm gonna make another one. I didn't get this big by eating one of anything." Whoa. A self aware man?!? I can dig it. And then I picked out a wedding dress.

Now all of this is well and good. Cute guy, great body, but the episode got a lot deeper than that. The one thing that I absolutely loved was how humble Ryan was about his entire situation and his work ethic. He had a job AND was exercising like crazy, so when he showed up to camp he was at his optimum performance level. Like he was steadily gaining weight and speed, and then started losing weight. But he was so persistant. A very admirable quality. So hot.

Fast forward to 2007, when Ryan has played four fantastic football seasons, even though the last one was a "rebuilding" year, and is in the NFL draft. Still hot. Still driven,  officially a Bronco and unofficially the sexiest man in the NFL. This was quite devesting to me because I'm something of a Steelers fan, and I wanted him to be a Steeler so bad. Now understand the Bronco to be when I was growing up was John Elway. But there was something about him that I didn't like, so I was anti Bronco and pro Cowboy, like every one else  in the 90s. Did I mention he also graduated with a 3.6 gpa?

Thank God I wised up. It was quite apparent to me that the Steelers were going to play as shiteous as possible just to spite me, and I decided to switch teams. That's right! After Troy's knee got rocked, I became a lesbian. Just kidding. I decided to root for the Broncos. So I purchased two tickets to see the Broncos play the Eagles. I got seats right behind the visitors bench so if Knowshown Moreno farted, I'd know it. But then Ryan got hurt and I sold the tickets for two seats higher up. I don't even know if Ryan was even at that game.  I was with my uncle, and when were stuck in the exit gridlock, I told him "if I just run away, I have my phone and my debit card, I just saw Ryan". As I side note, I believe Freeway of State Property fame was in the parking lot selling "Fuck Dallas" Tshirts after the game. The things you'll do for love, right?

So here we are, eight years later and Ryan has accomplished quite a bit, and he should be very proud of himself. Call me! Seriously. And once again Happy Birthday. 


I have also decided that I want a Boston Terrier puppy named Jesus Shuttlesworth.

Can Someone Tell Me What The F**K The Trillest Is Anyway?

This blogging thing is just a little weird. Like I know for sure that I have a few readers, but then what about all the other people who read my blog who I don’t know? It shouldn’t even be called a “blog” really. This is pretty much my thoughts thrown together in some sort of witty essay to make you, the reader, feel some kind of way about life. But today, I wanted to show a little fan appreciation. This person, honestly thinks I am the bee’s knees. He also suffers from insomnia and will text me at times that most people don’t even know if they really exist. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Camp Chris!

I met Camp Chris in 2008, my last year working as a slave camp counselor. This year at camp was by far my hardest. I got stuck working the voucher kids, and while I loved some of them, the others basically broke me and on the third day of camp I was in tears. Hence, why I hate other people’s bad ass children. Unfortunately, I didn’t have another job lined up like Camp Chris, so I was forced to endure slave labor summer days, while he quit and maintained some shreds of dignity and sanity.

Camp Chris is quite a character. He likes to play video games and music. In other words, he’s a cool dude. But today, he gained a bajillion cool points all because of his mad tech skillz yo! Thanks to him, I can now watch Freaknik: The Musical whenever I want. For those of you who were busy watching the Oscars to see what movie won for best picture, I was feeding my inner hood rat by watching the funniest shit I have seen in a long time. Freaknik: The Musical was executive produced by my new favorite genius T-Pain. Yea I said it, T-Pain. He is a genius, and I dare you to say something about it. I thought he outdid himself with the Bud Light commercial, but this, you need to see for yourself. I don't think there are any words to describe how good this really is. 

Freaknik: The Musical is an hour long special about the ghost of Freaknik and his voice is T-Pain in autotune. For the record, Freaknik is a festival in Atlanta. So these four rappers, voiced by Rick Ross, Cee-Lo Green, Young Cash and DJ Pooh are trying to make it to the Battle of the Trillest rap battle. Add in the voices of Charlie Murphy, Kel Mitchell, Andy Samberg and Kelis playing the likes of Al Sharpton, Oprah and Jesse Jackson. Hilarity ensues. Lil Wayne voices a character called Trap Jesus. Trap Jesus. Trap Jesus. Trap Jesus. I may or may not be the only person who finds that hysterical. I spent about an hour repeating Trap Jesus to my self and LOLz-ing myself into oblivion. I even waited four hours for the encore. Blanyway, the moral of the story is to watch Freaknik, download it, and take it prime time because it is an instant classic.

This Is How Twitter and Insomnia Kill Your Dreams!

The first order of business would be to apologize for my long break. I’ve been busy, and when the opportunity of sleep presented itself, I basically got it drunk and took extreme advantage of it. When I finally came to, it was twenty years later. I am now 41 and going through a midlife crisis, and am heading to get a tattoo to assert my “coolness”. Just kidding, it was the only colorful story I could concoct to explain my absence. 

When I woke from my coma long ass nap, I became something short of an angsty teenage zombie. I ate, I dozed in and out of consciousness, and I watched an obscene amount of television. Before this weekend, I could honestly say that I have never watched a show on MSNBC…ever. But then, I came across this late night gem called Lockup. It’s a show about crazy ass criminals, and jail. If you could out-fantastic Gangland, it would be this. Plus I’m a sucker for marathons, soooooo a big thank you to the MSNBC schedulers. I guess after watching all these hardened criminals, I was feeling especially bold; because I made a mistake that I don’t think I can come back from.

To get to the root of this, we need to go back and visit my stupid, fifteen year old self. Contrary to popular belief, my obsession with guidos did not begin with Angelo of Fordham Prep fame. It began with the cast of Growing Up Gotti. This is laughable simply because even then, I had a knack for bad television. I believe that as long as the packaging is good, I’ll feed into it. John, the middle grandson was having a 16^th or 18^th birthday party. I thought they were stuck up because Lindsay Lohan wasn’t invited, as she was “a crazy broad who likes my older brudda”. [Editor’s Note: This is probably what made her lose her mind and became the hot mess we all know and love today.] So, John insists that he needs a famous DJ for his party. Now, way back in 2004, 50 Cent was the bee’s knees, so his DJ, DJ Whookid was enlisted for this bash. It was then and there that I knew that when and IF I got married, I needed DJ Whookid to DJ at my wedding. Simply because I loved his name, and he was down with the Gotti-Agnello clan, he was the man for my reception.

Fast forward to present day where Fiddy is standing on the corner of Lost My Hood Pass Avenue and What The Fuck Am I Gonna Do Now Road, DJ Whookid is still who I want to DJ at my wedding. I began following him on Twitter, (when the story involves Twitter, you know it’s about to get real) and we had a Twitter spat, in which I think I condemned myself to DJ Whookid-less wedding reception. See, Sir Whookidd is in Greece and tweeted:

“Ahh Greece—the city that created this festive combining of many individuals called the ORGY which brought peace on Earth…amen!”

And out of my newfound hardness, from spending hours inside America’s maximum-security prisons, I responded with:

“Greece is a country the last time I checked”

This must have gotten him really ticked off because he DOUBLE TWEETED

“@purelygenius oops meant Athens – sorry for being an ignorant American – r u happy now”    and;

“@purelygenius I did say Athens on my first tweet -- Im not checking everything or spelling while Im on this Iphone”

Then DJ Whookid proceeded to start a #trendingtopic called #blockalltweetanalyzers. Now backslap me and call me paranoid, but I think he was talking about me. I was actually scared that this would burn my DJ bridge and ruin a VERY superficial part of my life. I was losing ground and had to retaliate with a double tweet of my own! So I said:

“I may or may not have just offended @DJWhooKid. I don't think he'll want to DJ at my wedding now...I'm legit sad about this.”

AND

“Thanks to my obsession with John Gotti Agnello, when I was 15 I decided that I wanted @DJWhooKid to be at my wedding, like John's birthday. Today is an extremely bad day”

Thankfully, he’s an extremely forgiving man, and he responded to my pleas with:

“@purelygenius HA! then u r not on my list - but there are some annoying ones out there and Im ready to block!”

I was relieved at the very least. I don’t think I could deal with that devastation. Also, feel free to follow me on twitter. I’ve been using it in lieu of Facebook.

I Just Had A Craving for Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream and Some Vodka

Do you know those things that you cannot conceptually wrap your head around? I’m going through that right now. I just finished watching My Super Royal 16, featuring Justin Combs. Now this I completely understand. What I just can’t get is being the fruit of P. Diddy’s loins. It’s not impossible, he’s human, the man can have kids. But how cool is it to be a part Diddy? I mean forget the fact that his sons are unbelievably handsome because they have good genes and can rock unibrows like no other. My favorite part of the show was watching all the party guests. His school friends are clearly part of the Horace Mann Outta Da Hood Program, with their Nicki Minaj hair cuts. It made me giggle.


This post wasn't really thought out or planned. I actually have nothing to talk about at length so I decided to compile a list of little or likely known facts about myself. 


LKFs About Me


1. I find Ecclestial music soothing. Yea, like chanting monks and stuff. I'm not sure why I like it, but I do. I don't even own any, nor do I listen to it on a regular basis. Whenever I hear it in passing I'll stop to listen and this serene feeling comes over me.


2. I plan on antiquing the one pair of slippers I own. They're almost 10 years old and are in the shape of tie dyed VW bugs. I absolutely love them and they were the last pair. I begged my mom to get them for me. At the time, they were 6 sizes too big, but now they are nice and broken into.


3. I chose my favorite sports team by the one cute guy they had on the team. The breakdown is simple. I'm a Steelers fan because of Troy Polamalu, who, for the record, I loved before the wildabeast. I like the Broncos for Ryan Harris, the sexiest man in the NFL. Fuck Reggie. And I am a die hard Celtics fan because I met Alex at a game. But I loves me some Kevin Garnett too. However, when Iverson was with the Sixers, I loved them too...for Raja Bell. I followed him to Utah before I realized it was very expensive to keep updating my fan gear when he was traded.


4. I only visit The Met to see the French rooms. This is another thing I'm not sure about why I love it, but I do.
5. If and when I'm having a baby shower, I want guests to bring their favorite kids book. I mean its only fair. And I do love books. I'm not saying I'm forcing my passions on my children but.........


6. I regret one (possibly two) of my tattoos I'm running out of unseen space and I'm now debating getting a sleeve. If I still want one in 5 years, I'm going to commit and get the sleeve.


7. I've never seen any of the Star Wars movies. I want to, because its such a staple in pop culture. I want to be in on all the jokes about the whole series of movies.


8. I wear men's deodorant because my sweat glands are on a woman but built for a man. TMI? Ehhhh you'll get over it!


9. I would love to be able to be a drag queen. I recently found a loop hole on Wikipedia. Apparently, there are women who dress in drag and they are called faux queens. Guess what my New Year's resolution for 2011 is?

10. I enjoy eating food NOT tasting cuisine...and yes there is a difference. A great to me could involve copious amounts of buffalo wings. If your about to propose, I don't need escargot and what not. And to be honest, I don't mind being taken to McDonald's on dates. 

11. I want a wig.


12.When I watch TV I often answer the questions, like they asked me. I plan on being on TV at least once in my life...I might as well get some practice.


13. I miss my high school uniform. Let me tell you a lil story. When I was a freshman in college, I had to do a presentation for my Intro to Education class. Everyone showed up in dressy clothes, and I showed up in jeans and a sweatshirt. I didn't put any thought into what I wore because whenever I gave a presentation I was in my uniform. I got a C+ because of my wardrobe malfunction. One word, two syllables: BULLSHIT. Lady, that was a B presentation.

Weezy's Pimple

When I was in high school, before we took a midterm, final or regents, we were given a sheet of yellow scrap paper that you were not obliged to use for the test. However, since we had to stay for a minimum time of two hours for a three hour test, I often used mine to scribble, scrabble and sketch on. Nothing serious, just a few cartoons or even some notes for another class. When I think about it, my sketches were just a bunch of simple drawings, not unlike Lil' Wayne's tattoos. I can't lie, I thought that the lightening bolt tattoo on his forehead was the world's longest lasting pimple until last week.


I'd like to think of myself as well versed in the tattoo and piercing culture. I have a combined total of 14, and although I have stopped with the piercings, I'm constantly thinking of new tattoo ideas. I got my first tattoo on my18th birthday. It was a gift from Dawn, my ex boyfriends mother. One of my favorite things about her was her tattoos. I think she had about thirteen at my last count like three years ago. Blanyway, her gift to me was my first tattoo, which is kind of a sacred bond between two people. The tattoo itself is a Celtic knot symbolizing eternal life with the names of my deceased family members. Little did I know that for the remainder of my relationship, this one tattoo would be thrown in my face as the gift that didn't need to be given. To which I say, if it wasn't permanent, I would give it back, but I can't so that thought is useless. That thought also includes MANY four letter words.


Then I got to thinking, on all of the tattoo shows, every person has a sob back story to explain why they are choosing that tattoo. And I awkwardly find myself trying to explain a tattoo to the artist. I really don't owe you an explanation. But it makes for good conversation when you run out if things to say in an hour. My last tattoo is an Autobot logo, yeah I said it. I fell in love with Transformers COMPLETELY on accident. All I know is that I am one.

Random Bites for Your Midnight Snack

Knowing that money is Mr. Krabs only weakness, why doesn't Plankton just buy a Krabby Patty? I know the correct answer to this is that it would end that plot line. But I would still like to see how it would go down.

What is the satisfaction people get from saying that they already knew something, especially since everyone knows it already? And I'm not talking about small things like a band. I'm talking about really big things, like a secret. Everyone knows already, why do you have to add that you already knew? 


Why is everyone, myself included, so fascinated with guidos? I remember my first favorite guido. He talked about himself in the third person and wore a 2x shirt and medium pants. His name ended in a vowel, and he was probably last seen wearing Ed Hardy. But honestly, what makes them so special? Other cultures can be way more exciting. Personally, I'm Puerto Rican by extended family and everything else when I think it's cool.

At what point is an obsession considered unhealthy? I think my biffle Aaron and I have what can potentially be an unhealthy obsession. It began with this girrl who ticked us both off for reasons that I cannot divulge to you. We started with innocently talking about her and how trifilling she actually was. That grew into a form of cyber bullying, which consisted of us just disagreeing with anything she had to say. Now I IM or text Aaron everyday with the outrageous things she says to her celebrity crushes on Twitter. I told Aaron that what we were doing was possibly unhealthy, and just said that we were expressing our feelings about her, which is funny because all those thoughts are negative.


Is it just me or does anyone else feel kind of creepy watching Law & Order: SVU marathons? I first got into this show in high school when a friend of mine suggested I watch it, and then I was hooked. I recently watched all the episodes on Netflix Instant Watch and 200 hours later I felt awkward that I could watch that many fictional, but nonetheless frightening, sex crimes take place AND that it was for entertainment.  


I think we should all take the time to thank Kid CuDi for something. I'm not sure what it is, but just when I thought I couldn't love him anymore, he did this, and I fell in love with him all over again.


Last night, I had a brain fart and watched the Mo'Nique show and she had the male models from the new show Model City as guests. I felt some type of way that none of them were half nekkid. I also felt some type of way about making it through 34 minutes of her show, with the volume on 1 and I still heard her loud and clear.

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!