Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Thou shall not judge.
Who are you to judge?
Well, I'll tell you this...
Don't give me a reason to judge you.. and I wont.
I will judge you if you are crazy.
And finally. I'll tell you who I am... I'm NOT crazy... You, Sir/Mam; you are crazy.
As we move into 2010, and you foolishly attempt to create a resolution(s), I will graciously share this info with you. You can add these items to your handy dandy resolution/To Do or Not To Do List.
This is my public decree: If I witness, see or experience any of the following; I am allowed to judge.
1. If you have jherri curl, perm(on non Blacks), hairstyle like Kate of Jon&Kate fame, french roll, or I can judge. (I have seen people walking around with full fledged jheri curls in 2009; the later part of 2009 too)
2. If you have a mini van, I can judge. Don't give me the crap about families. They make Tahoes for that reason.
3. Camaros, Grand-Ams, Mustangs: If you own or plan to own any of these-JUDGEMENT. I hate everything about each of these cars. The mustang is probably the least offensive. But all of these reek of Tomball.
4. If you use your Facebook/Twitter as a tool for displaying your gross income, clothing inventory, or other method for bragging in a soulful fashion, I WILL JUDGE. So, you better come hard... And by hard, I mean Buffet. Warren Buffet that is.
5. If you don't get my humor and take yourself too serious, then JUDGEMENT FOR YOU.
6. If you are single and like to constantly judge married couple's relationships, then I am judging every ounce of you. That should be a law or something. Like Murder 1. Single people should not judge marriages. They just shouldn't. AT ALL. Well, I don't think non parents should judge parents.
7. If you tell me that you have auditioned for America's Top Model, I can do nothing but judge you. You better be a mini Giselle.
8. If you tell me that you don't have time for TV, or don't watch TV, or any other condescending comment about TV, I will judge you unless you are a well read, New York Times reading, Malcolm Gladwell quoting, Constitution Expert, "This American Life" listening to, gourmet cooking fool. I know that's a lot. But, hey...
9. If you are homophobic, but you have premarital sex, lie, just miss the mark in life generally; I AM FULL OF JUDGEMENT.
10. If you don't tell all of your friend's that this is the funniest blog, then... Okay, okay, that was a whack one.
11. If you have a cat, I am so sorry. You deserve every piece of judgement that I can muster up.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
This is probably one of the toughest entries that I've ever written. Why, you ask?
Sharpstown Mall, or simply Sharpstown as I know it, is near and dear to my heart.
I bought my first Bart Simpson T-shirt there. Remember those shirts? DON'T HAVE A COW MAN! Aye Carumba! I even fell in love with Helly Kitty there. Yes, more about that later.
It was one of my fave places in the city. That, and Astroworld. Oh Astroworld, you deserve your own blog entry. I wont even disrespect you by adding you to my ode to Sharpstown.
For my international readers, because I have many. Let me explain to you what Sharpstown is. Sharpstown Mall is located in Southwest Houston, off of Highway 59/Southwest Freeway at the Bellaire/Fondren exits.
Sharpstown Mall was a premiere mall from the seventies through the late 90'. Well, maybe mid 90's.
It was a great centrally located mall. It housed the major dept stores such as Montgomery Wards, Foley's, JC Penney, Dillards. Oh wait, how could I forget that elegant Palias Royal?
So, yes. Sharpstown had all of the best stores. Contempo Casuals, 579, Merry Go Round, Oaktree (soulful store for men), plus Gap, Limited, and all of the other standard mall fare. My sister and I used to catch the METRO to Sharpstown. We'd hop on the 2 Bellaire and head there with our allowance ready to paint the mall red!
Whew, I loved that mall.
It even had a Walgreens in the mall. That was pretty cool.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, went to Sharpstown.
Then, a funny little thing called apartment living and suburbia happened.
More folks started moving to the burbs and more random people started moving into town in apartments. As that shift became more prevalent, Sharpstown mall begin to change.
Sharpstown was where I first met Hello Kitty. They had a store called Rainbow Fair on the 2nd level, that had all of the Sanrio Products. See, this mall was chic! They had Sanrio going hard in the 80's and 90's.
Anyway, I noticed the Rainbow Fair store closed, then Contempo closed. Before, you knew it; all of the cool stores were closing.
Pretty soon, the mall only had sneaker stores. It was hooded out.
It's now a flea market. A true flea-market with knock off, bad knock off clothing, shoes, purses, 1000 tennis shoe stores, and many kiosks with fake gold teeth clip on's and fake diamond earrings.
It breaks my heart to know what was there and what is there now.
Up until two Saturdays ago, I still went to Sharpstown. Even though it is a flea market and I could very easily be murdered there. For real, there have been murders there.
Well, I kept going because of one place-Coastal Cookies. I would go to Coastal Cookies weekly.
CC is a cookie place. Not just any cookie place, but THE COOKIE PLACE.
They sold bags of flattened soft yet crispy cookies. I don't even know how to explain. You could get sugar, peanut butter, chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, and chocolate chip and pecans.
They sold them by the qtr pound for like 1 buck.
Up until two weeks ago, I'd take my 5 bucks and get as many chocolate chip cookies as I could get.
Well, I should have started to worry about a month ago. On a trip to CC, I noticed that the food court only had 1 operating restaurant. That should have been my tell tale sign.
But, I didn't take heed to it. I couldn't.
I happily walked into Sharpstown two weeks ago and saw that the lights were off at Coastal Cookies.
Literally, I wanted to cry. Those that know me know that I am a real life Cookie Monster. CC is a huge part of my life.
So, now I'm mad. I hate Sharpstown. I hate every normal person that moved to the burbs and started going to Westwood and West Oaks, and Memorial City. I hate all the gangstas that moved into the city and helped to transform Sharpstown into the gangstas paradise that it is now. yeah, gangsta. Not gangster.
Oh, yeah, and Sharpstown also had this really cool place called Phymsical Whimsical, which nobody except me seems to remember.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Now, if it's an awkward moment with someone else, I immediately love them. Well, it's a love/hate relationship. It's one of those things where I want to run and turn my head yet I yearn for them.
I usually sing AWK-WARD in my best soprano voice, when something awkward happens. I'd like to share a few AWK-WARD moments with you...
I had a few guys over from church that are apart of a ministry that I am in. The group is all guys plus myself. So, the guys are all over for a meeting and our pastor came over to shoot a video. Our pastor is looking around the house for good places to shoot the group. The guys are milling around as well. Well,the video is successful. Done deal. EXCEPT... after everyone has left, I'm walking around; feeling pretty good about the video, the ministry, everything.
I walk past my bookshelf in the living room and notice a foreign object kinda floating on the bookshelf. I stop, bend down to examine. Guess what? It was my THONG. Literally. My thong was sitting on the bookshelf, crotch out. Just sitting there. Well, I immediately didn't think much of it. I'd recently unpacked my luggage in the living room, and realized that it probably flew out of suitcase and landed there. I kinda giggled and just picked it up.
Wait... It hit me. OMG. Marlon, my pastor and the guys had been walking around the living room. GASP! They saw my thong... OMG. Well, at least it was clean.
AWKWARD! Of course, I wont ask any of them. That's insanity.
Have you ever been to one of those ignorant passion parties? I have twice; never again. Well, I was invited to a dear friend's bachelorette party. The party was intertwined with a passion party. First of all, a passion party makes my flesh crawl. It's synonymous with UGGH; in the most UGGH way that you can think of.
So, I didn't want to be a party pooper and judgemental. I tried to be as polite, diplomatic, and as joyful for the bride as possible. We were encouraged to spend X amount of dollars, so that the birde could receive free gifts. I made my obligatory purchase of the safest thing possible. I had no intention of ever using the items.
Anyway, I come home and show Ray some lubricant that I purchased. please note: i DID NOT NEED NOR WANT THIS. It was just the cheapest and most generic purchase that I could make. I came home and jokingly showed Ray my newest purchase. He muttered an "uggh" and put the bottle on his night stand. My friend Erika comes over Sunday night. I was in the middle of changing the sheets when she arrived; so I asked her to come in our room and sit in this chair while I finished changing the sheets. Erika comes in, sits in the chair and that's that. Sheets changed, I talk to Erika, she goes home. Day over.
The very next day, I am in the room and look over at the chair and realize that it's very close to Ray's night stand. I then realize that the friggin lubricant is sitting out on Ray's nightstand. GROSS!!!
I was so embarrassed. AWK-WARD. I had to call her back and explain the entire situation, beginning with the passion party. I needed her to know how I met the friend, when the passion party was, why I chose the lubricant. The whole 9.
I was so embarrassed. I swear we've never touched that bottle. As a matter of fact, I'm throwing it out right now.
Now that I've written an epic novel I'm going to end this very awkward post with someone else's awkward moment. This was an awkward post. It involved underwear, ministries, lubricant, friends. Just all sorts of awkward topics.
So, I have a good friend. This friend is a very sharp, smart, likable good guy. he happens to be African. Actually Nigerian. Which in America, equals Black. Anyway, he's a Rice graduate and has a great career with a great company. He's worked very hard since he's been at this company to ensure that his White counterparts don't stereotype him. (Too all my non Black readers, you might be thinking he's a Rice graduate, of course they wouldn't think he's a "stereotypical black guy". Well, they still do. He get random fist bumps versus a hand shake. He gets random quips of urban lingo. Anyway, no big deal. No hurt feelings. All minorities including women have our own stories of having to help educate the majority on treating us like regular counterparts and not like characters from Good Times.
Anyway, so he's done very well and has great colleagues. He's made great strides and his work has spoke for himself.
Well, the other day said friend walks into a company meeting. A big company meeting. The CEO is speaking at this meeting. My friend walks in and a counterpart who happens to be White, says to friend, "Hey Man, you changed your look, huh". This colleague is practically shouting this. My friend, is like what are you talking about. He's thinking what could be different. The coworker says, VERY LOUDLY, "your earring.". My friend was so embarrassed. He wears his earring on weekends. It's his tribute to urban life. LOL. Anyway, he forgot to remove his faux diamond earring. He sheepishly removes the earring.
All that work, gone down the drain. Even with his fancy pants Rice degree, that earring makes him closer to a gang banger than Tiger Woods. Man, I feel bad for him.
Well, not really. He's super smart and very well respected at his company, so I'm sure it's no big deal. But, still that's awkward.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
See there... That's Kate. Kate of Jon and Kate plus 8.
I hate Kate's hair. I have some issues with Kate's personality, but this is not the forum for Kate bashing. This is all about bashing Kate's horrible hair.
Her hair is a perfect representation for her. It's so Deer Park esque. (Huge apologies to the residents of Deer Park).
I feel like she goes to same salon where the stylist has chunky highlights and wears all black a la Visible Changes but on a smaller scale.
Kate's hair practically screams, "Yes, I do have over 9000 kids, but I can still be cool. Look at the asymmetrical bob that I am rocking. Notice that I spike the back like an idiot."
I want nothing more than to whack the side of her hair so that its even and comb that silly spike down.
Her hair makes me cry. It saddens me. The hair products that she faithfully applies to this mess saddens me.
Oh and btw, Kate, if you're reading this... You need to whoop Cara. I don't think I support spankings, especially when a child is over 4. At that point, it's like fighting them. But, Cara needs something more than a time out.
Yeah, Kate must be crazy, if she thinks that 2001 horrible hair style is rocking...
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Nadia to Ray: What if you came home and I was naked in bed with another man?
Nadia to Myah: What if I kidnapped Avi (Myah's daughter)?
"What If" is so fun to me...
So, Myah and I were parking lot pimping at the neighborhood Chili's the other day and started a What If Game in regards to Facebook statuses. We came to the conclusion that it would not be fun.
Here is some of our best work:
Nadia is horny.
Myah is a complete liar.
Nadia is suicidal.
Myah is thinking about cheating on her husband.
Nadia is stealing money from her job.
Myah hates her in-laws.
Nadia is cheating on her husband.
Myah is watching porn.
Nadia thinks her best friend's marriage is horrible.
Myah is in love with Nadia's husband.
Nadia killed a man last night and buried him in her backyard.
Myah has an eating disorder.
Nadia chews and spits food.
Myah hasn't bathed in two weeks.
Nadia left her children at home and went to a bar and passed out.
I think you get it. We answered our own What If. If people did have statuses like that, Facebook would be even better.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Well, let's just say that he didn't wear his dentures to my wedding; he brought a bag of bills and money orders for me to mail out for him to my wedding, and he's a real life hoarder. Like seriously. However, he is who he is. He loves me. I'm pretty certain of that and he would give me anything...
Well, he actually gives me anything and everything. I usually go see him every Sunday. It never fails, he always has a gift for me. I've decided to document these gifts, so that everyone can share in my fun.
Although I do poke fun and laugh, and many times/most times, trash the gifts; I do love the thought of them. They're from my Daddy.
So, here are pics from the recent gifts that I've received from him.
Exhibit #1- A huge life sized turquoise teddy bear
You can't really appreciate the beauty of the stuffed animal, b/c of the odd angle that I took the picture. However, there's an interesting story to accommodate this present. My father is a regular at a neighborhood hole in the wall. He goes almost every day to partake in drink or two or three or four. Anyhoo, for the past few years, he's decided to throw a Christmas Party for friends and family at this place. The club is literally the size of my family room. Anyway, he really prepares for this and spends crazy amounts of money on gifts for attendees, friends, and the bartenders and waitresses at this spot. This year, like all others, I arrive to spend my obligatory 30 minutes. I walk in and notice the bear and my father says, "Baby, that's yours." He says this with a huge smile as if it's a brand new Mini Cooper (which by the way I want. I'm so over my suv).
Long story short, as he walks me out to my car, he picks up the teddy bear. However, the bear is so huge and the club is so small, he knocks over some of the club patron's drinks...
Ugghhh. Oh by the way; did I mention that the bear is used? It's slightly dirty and has a slight brown tint covering it's old turquoise fur. It is currently sitting on my front porch waiting for it's overdue trip to the Salvation Army.
Exhibit #2: Sassy Gift:
The Sunday before last, he presented me a more practical gift than the used stuffed animal. This time it was "boots" and punch.
I should follow that statement by adding that the boots are silver and really not boots. There are big gaping holes in them, intentionally, and resemble something a stripper would wear. A cheap stripper. A cheap stripper with three missing teeth in Willis, Texas.
The punch was Tampico. I didn't even look at the flavor. I know just by the name that I don't like Tampico.
But I love my Daddy.
You must be crazy if you don't love my Daddy's gifts. More to come... This Sunday it was food based.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
I was so intrigued yet afraid of these people. I always felt that their transfer came with a story. Perhaps, they were kicked out of their old school, maybe they moved from Rhode Island, maybe their father left the family abruptly and their mom had to move to an apartment.
I apologize in advance for my misguided thoughts. I was quite structured and disciplined with school. I had Perfect Attendance all the way until 10th grade. I was the Teacher's Pet from Kinder - 6th grade. So, the thought of transferring is equivalent to forgery, money laundering, and or murder. You just don't do it.
How can one transfer? You have to start all over... What about your permanent record? You know... That record that our parents and school administrators spoke about... If you are a transfer it can be dirtied, filthy, filled with conflicting school dialogue, different color ink, and hand prints from different people shuffling it around.
Transfer students are like James Dean; they are rebels.
I found out my husband was a transfer student. it broke my heart. It took me a while to get over.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
As my blog is internationally recognized, I'd like to share the celebrity with them.
Here are the top answers from the only people that cared enough to play my sick game.
1. Spanish Wavy weave (inside joke)
3. wave cap
4. medical scrubs
3. Malt O Meal
4. magazine subscriptions
5. sunglasses cases
Friday, January 9, 2009
I think, so that makes it true, that the most of the women that LOVE the color purple happen to be Black.
I know lots of Black women that love being draped in purple. Purple shirts, purple bras, purple shoes...
I met a woman in Marshall's last week. She was behind me in line. She was dressed in purple from head to toe. She had purple candlestick holders, bath towels, and candles in her basket. I said, "Wow, you like purple." She responded by saying, "You should see my brand new Charger. Dodge Charger. 2009. Brand New. Purple." (She was like 60)
I saw her in the parking lot and indeed she has a purple car. I liked her.
Hmmh, but back to my original question. Does anyone know?
Thanks for helping.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
I don't ever buy artichokes.
I don't ever buy diapers.
I don't ever buy Mucelex.
I don't ever buy tofu.
I don't ever buy cigarettes.
I don't ever buy whole milk.
I don't ever buy Polident.
I don't ever buy Equal or NutraSweet.
I don't ever buy motor oil.
I don't ever buy pencils.
I don't ever buy Cool Water Cologne.
I don't ever buy zucchini.
I don't ever buy Life Cereal.
I don't ever buy knee pads.
I don't ever buy Goya Juice (Myah does).
I don't ever buy vacuum bags.
I don't ever buy spinach.
I don't ever buy douche.
I don't ever buy Schlitz Malt Liquor Bull.
I don't ever buy incense.
I don't ever buy jherri curl activator.
I don't ever buy fuchsia lipstick.
I don't ever buy dominoes.
I don't ever buy cleats.
I don't ever buy Tone soap.
I don't ever buy shoe strings.
I don't ever buy dentures.
I don't ever buy cats.
I don't ever buy pomegranate juice.
I don't ever buy grapefruits.
I don't ever buy flippers.
I don't ever buy Swim Ear.
I don't ever buy press on nails.
I don't ever buy Rave hair spray.
I don't ever buy Swisher Sweets.
I don't ever buy Black and Milds.
I don't ever buy typewriters.
I don't every buy Scan-Trons.
I don't every buy crack.
I don't every buy Crystal Meth.
I don't ever buy heroin.
I don't ever buy Mylanta.
I don't ever buy Boston Baked Beans.
I don't buy steering wheel covers.
I don't ever buy Cher albums, cd's, or tapes.
More to come.
While driving down 610, I noticed a red 96 or 97 Mustang. The top was down, so it caught my attention. It's a beautiful day but a tad too chilly for the top to be down.
As I looked closer, I realized that a HUGE LONG ladder was resting across the passenger seat all the way back through the backseat.
I chuckled. It made me smile. There's something about seeing a long metal work ladder in a convertible.
As I was leaving my home to head back to work, I noticed someone on a bicycle pedaling really fast and furious. I realized that it was my neighbor/friend. He also had a backpack on his back. How often do you see a 40+ man riding a bicycle with a backpack and it's not for exercise or because he's a cycling enthusiast?
He made me smile.
I love smiling.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
It's my all time favorite grocery store. Ever since I moved out on my own, Randall's has been my top choice. However, as we are in an economic recession and my husband thinks that Randall's is for Republicans, I don't shop there as much as I'd like.
I love that store. It's clean, warm. They are usually smaller and more intimate that that loud bustling cold Kroger's. It feels like a log cabin.
My, I like Randall's.
They always make sure they thank you with your name, if you use your Remarkable card.
It's one of the few grocery stores that have non minorities as checkers. The competitors would have you believe that minorities have a monopoly on checking jobs. Not at Randall's. They are an equal opportunity employer.
It's just cozy. Right. Cozy and Right. It's the way grocery shopping should be. Cozy and in a log cabin.
Hooray for Randall's!
These are phrases that I have not used due to:
-fear that the phrase belongs to a race that is not my own. (It is true. Races can actually own a phrase.)
-uncertainty of the actual phrase or if I've misphrased it in my brain
-fear of being a pretender (I hate sounding unnatural)
-backlash from my husband and/or BFF Myah (They give me grief about my dialect all the time. I used "fat-fingered" once and I'm still getting crap about that one.)
Author's Note: Part Deux:
This is a partial list.
That's all kinds of wrong.
He/She/IT/That is a hot mess.
I'm strictly *****
I beg your pardon.
Comme Si, Comme Ca
I am woman, hear me roar
Gag me with a spoon.
I'll be back (In Terminator voice)
I'll have what she's having.
You've got some nerve.
Heads are going to roll.
I was _ sheets to the wind. (i've never figured that one out. help)
IN YOUR FACE!
She looks pretty long in the tooth.
Over my dead body.
How you doing? (In joey's voice from Friends. I think...)
Monday, January 5, 2009
I have a funny story to share...
After you hear this, you will agree that this person is crazy and I'm not.
So, I had a friend. Let's call this friend Wilamena. So, Wilamena and I were good High School Friends. We had similar personalities in High School and had a WONDERFUL friendship. Somewhere between our senior year of High School and freshmen year of college, Wilamena and I stopped talking. Not sure why. Probably the typical 18 year old friendship ending stuff.
Well, we restarted our friendship again, sometime during sophmore year of college and were fine for many years.
There was just one problem. I HATED the friendship. The friend was fine, (I guess), the friendship wasn't. It was very unhealthy, filled with ignorant secrets, idiotic conversations, and just plain stupidity. (Try and figure out what all that means) :-)
Anyway, fast forward a few years later. The same ignorance is still going on. However, it's only one sided. Well, maybe it's two sided because I am still listening to it. However, as our age has increased, the ignorance has increased. This person is just involved with stuff that's just plain WRONG. I want to break up with Wilamena. badly. I just have no idea how. Especially, after she tells me a HUGE secret.
Anyway, long story short, Wilamena and I finally end. Not on my terms, but I am okay with it. Actually relieved. Blessed is probably a more fitting term.
Holidays 2008. I'm mailing Christmas cards. I am using the list that I used for my wedding invitations as it is the most comprehensive and up to date list that I have. As I'm addressing the envelopes, I include Wilamena and her family. Ooops. I'm faced with a dilemma. Do, I toss the envelope or just mail it out? Well, it's Christmas and I'm a Christian, afterall. :-) I am going to mail the card. It's the holidays, right? I've already written their name on the card. Oh Well.
I arrive home this weekend and sorting through mail. I notice an envelope that looks like our Christmas card. I assume it's from one of our friends' that have moved. I look a bit more and notice a BIG "RTS" written on the front in Wilamena's handwriting. (She has very distinctive handwriting, pretty... ) So, I pick up the envelope and smile. I think, Oh well, I guess she didn't want my card. FUNNY... In a sad, I really wasn't trying to befriend you kind of way... I was on my way to drop it in the trash, when it fell and I noticed additional writing on the back.
The writing on the back said something close to, "WE DON'T WANT THIS expletive AT OUR HOUSE."
She must be crazy. Who does that? It's one thing to feel like she hates me (for some unknown strange reason). It's another to even RTS. It's a whole nother CRAZY thing to write profanity on the card. I thought the USPS was like federal or something. I didn't think they allowed that sort of thing to get through.
Well, RTS/Return to Sender is my new fave slang. If Myah asks me about a TV show that I don't watch, I just reply with RTS.
Yep, she's crazy. Wilamena that is, because I aint.