Thursday, January 28, 2010

Secret Confession of the Week...

Ok so I used to stuff my I've recently stopped like four years ago *lol*

And no wearing a padded bra didn't have the same effect. Granted I'm not well endowed in the cleavage area but why do bra manufacturers think I want a bra that's filled with nothing but cotton?

However Victoria's Secret *shad up Paj* that I will endorse more than my endorsement of a pizza puff with fries from Nick's on 79th & Ashland in Chicago.

OMG the Bombshell bra from VS is like my new obsession. It REALLLLLLLYYY does increase your cup by two sizes!

I've gotten so vain that I refuse to wear my other bras outside. I mean I have real cleavage! And not the type that I have to press my arms against the side of my chest to push them out either

Where the hell was this bra during 6th period lunch Junior year of high school when I spilled juice all over myself and revealed that I was a fraud?!

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Secret Confession of the Week

Often I find myself playing "peek a boo" with babies in stores. I can have a crappy day and a baby's gummy grin melts my icy little heart.

Maybe that's why children like to follow me around so much

Monday, January 11, 2010

I Know One Thing....

My dysfunctional family would NEVER see the light of day on TV!!

There's just some things you just do not do...and my family is one of them.

Bad enough, they had to come to my wedding, where I kept an eagle...and I mean an eagle eye on them the entire day.

I made sure my contacts were soaked, throughly cleaned and refreshed the night before just so I could give an effective side eye of death without blinking rapidly because one slipped into the corner of my eye.

I mean my family is, no and hell no.

They would shuck and jive it up for the camera...and I just can't have that.

In fact, I would not even disclose my tv show to them because next thing you of them would call me from the Greyhound station, with a fresh sew in, and the yak already in the white paper cup.

Ready to set it off because their Aldi's bag of clothes went missing.

Ugh I'm getting a headache just thinking of the possibilities.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Multi-Cultural Clubs Saves Me $$--Hell It's A Recession!!

On Saturday in a fit of boredom, I decided to throw on some clothes and hit the streets.

Now, for the record, I am a hermit crab in the winter. If I didn't need to pay bills, I probably would never go to work from Nov-March. It is very hard to get me out of the house in the winter.

Hell who am I kidding? I wouldn't go to work at all if I had my way. I don't really like my new job...but that's another post.

So Hubby *when all of my friends are being lame, being married has its benefits* heard about a "new" club in Adams Morgan and wanted to check it out *his friends were being lame as well-once again that marriage benefit kicks in*.

"New" meaning it's probably been around for a minute but Black folk are now just getting up on it. That always seems like the case in DC. You'd drive by a spot and never pay attention...but let you see more than 10 black people in line and it's on and popping!

Now here we are walking about 6 blocks out of our the cold...while I'm trembling with frost. I am not so old where I am able to sacrifice fashion for the cold. I mean I had on a short dress but dammit I had on tights.

Of course we walk up to the spot, after dodging drunk people, frozen pools of vomit, and the homeless...all in all an average night in Adams Morgan

We get to the club doors...and what do we see....

A line that's moving swiftly with a POLITE bouncer at the door. He actually held the door open AND said "Please" and "Thank You" to every person.

I was pleasantly surprised.

One thing that I hate about clubs in the winter is that they will force you to stand out in the freezing cold for HOURS just to prevent people from entering and enjoying the "Open Bar" hour(s).

On another note: What's the point of sending those annnnnnoying mass texts that no matter how many times I hit "stop" they just keep coming? In fact, I'm not even sure how most of the club texts reach my phone since I don't hit the clubs as much as I did in my hey-day. Not to mention I'll get the same texts about 6 times in one day?!

Mass forwards are already of the top of my "don't send to my damn phone" list but these club/lounge texts are a close second.

What's the point in advertising "open bars" and "doors open at 9", "ladies free until 11" if promoters are going to keep everyone outside? Shit its cold out! Knowing damn well someone is going to be in line toes turning blue because it was such a good idea to rock open-toe stilettos in 20 degree weather because it's the only thing that really goes with the outfit you're wearing.

Don't judge *lol*

So anyway, I'm pleasantly surprised that the line was moving swiftly.

We open our wallets to pull out cash and here's another kicker: NO COVER charge?! As in ALL night, female AND male (I do feel bad on how men are taxed), no one pays to get inside?!

You mean I don't have to pay $20 to get into your rinky dink club? No arguments with the bouncer because after freezing in line since 10pm, since its 11:01, the "ladies free before 11" text doesn't count? No getting put out of said line because now that ignant bitch whose cold thus grumpy side gotta come out because your toes are frozen and this dude is on that bullshit? Now you're going to the back of the line to try again because you'll be damn if you're gonna go back home to watch "House" reruns and shit that 4 block walk back to the car seems awfully long so you'll just loudly bitch to your friends about this bullshit and this is why you stop going out to the clubs?

Once again...don't judge *lol*

So we get through the line, no cover, no overly-aggressive and badly made up chick taking the money and taking too long to count out your singles...we go upstairs and...

Not one Black person in sight. Clearly this is a multi-cultural night.

Oh yeah, no mandatory coat check. You can carry your own coat around the club. No demand that you check your coat for $5 (with the ever increasing TIP jar) only to have an argument at the end of the night because your coat was "lost".

Ok that didn't happen to me...but my girl *lol* No one wants my 6+ year Old Navy pea-coat (mind you it's still in excellent condition although this might be the last year for that coat...bitch is getting a lil snug 'round that middle area)

Now partying with the "multi-cultural" crowd doesn't faze me. As long as I stay out the hair tossing chicks way (I'd hate to fuck a bitch up over flicking her hair in my drank), and when I hear too much loud whooping, I MOVE with the quickness...I'm straight.

I give a big sigh of relief. I know a couple of things:

1. Tonight, I am sure no "Nigga" Moments will pop off.

I may get splashed with the occasional beer but at least I'm not dodging fist fights, a potential stabbing, baby mama throw-down on the dance floor, the who stepped on my new Timbs fight, the why is this bitch in my VIP area toss-out and the list goes on....

2. I know that my hair is def. not going to get sweat out.

I hit the Dominicans up every two weeks and they are excellent at keeping my hair from the homeless chick bun that I rock when I am far too lazy to plug up my flat irons.

I mean I'll be honest...I only fucks with Chi-Town House Music...meaning when our music come on--we JUKE.

I'm not down with the techno/electronic versions of songs that should never have that annoying ass beat. ALL songs are not meant to be that rave music type shit.

It seemed like no matter how hard people danced, the air remained nice and warm. Either the club had a bomb ass central air system or...people just can't dance.

Just stepping into a majority black club, I am instantly slapped with humidity. No one could move in the joint and the air would still be on Amistad.

When I leave my hair is slicked to my forehead like I've danced my frustration off the entire night instead of dodging fists and African club boyfriends.

Speaking of a club boyfriends, that leads to another point:

3. I know I def. do not have to worry about the club boyfriend.

Since I've gotten married, it seems like when I do go out, my club boyfriends substantially have increased. I don't know if it's the simple diamond bands-since they are real diamonds-my rings increases my chances of getting jacked for them after the club. Or maybe it's similar to pregnant coochie--banging a married chick is like an aphrodisiac.

Or maybe because my disinterest is genuine thus signaling a "challenge" lay.

Or maybe I've gotten better looking *yeah, that vanity is still there*

Dunno what it is...but I get club boyfriends. More specifically, the black guys who are NOT American. If there is an illegal immigrant in the club, chances are he'll be in my face before the DJ begins the dancehall portion of his mix. Immigration would catch hell people just from following me around the club for a few hours. Border Patrol has nothing on me, ya dig?

But in a multi-cultural spot? Boy bye. Any Black guy in there is NOT checking for my chocolate ass. And any other guy checking for me is definitely looking around to make sure Ray-Ray is not sharpening his shank against the stairwell.

4. I will have a REAL drink.

Not the overpriced and watered down creation cooked up by the bartender. Although I know how to sniff out the ones who will make me a stronger drink.

But there…I didn’t have to do all that.

Meaning leaning over to showcase my boobs.

And since I am a tit-less wonder, that means I have to lean all the way over. Hell 95% I’m leaning so far over I can just reach down and grab my own glass and ice.

However, I have made a very wise investment in the new VS Miraculous Bra and lemme tell you…The Two Cups Size Bigger is NOT an exaggeration. I’ve even had a friend ask if I were pregnant because my tits looked huge.

With that bra on, I can hide my Presidential “Itty Bitty” card.

Bra off…I’m just a Fraauuudddd *lol*

I paid my money and received Vodka & Cranberry with more than enough Vodka in there.

Although a slight side eye as I think those potent drinks results in hella date rapes & waking up with some stranger’s dick in your mouth…

5. I don’t have to walk around with the “stank face”.

And I don’t do it because I just think I’m that bitch. Like “how dare this crusty nigga come over and ask me to dance”

I do it to keep the club boyfriends at bay *lol*

I also do it as not to lead anyone on. I’ve gotten cursed out sooo much for being married and in the club. “False advertising” I believed one guy said to me.

Although I told him the only false advertising that I was doing was portraying the breasts he was staring at as real.

I don’t go out to “meet” people. I go out because either I’m forced or I’m just there to dance.

6. I really didn’t have to dress up.

Now although I can kill it when I want to on the fashion game, I make no apologies that I am mostly a jeans and t-shirt gal.

More specifically, jeans and shirts that I do not have to iron.

Now I was killing it with my lil two-toned dress, tights, and pumps but looking around the club, I probably should not have bothered.

One thing I LOVE about multi-cultural spots-I can dress however the hell I want.
If I want to rock my best Old Navy flip flops, my ripped jeans, and a regular t-shirt, I can do that.

No unconscious desire to out-dress other women.

No wearing sky-high heels that I will either abandon on the dance floor or on the walk back to the car.

No sore feet from said sky high heels.

I can dress down and GUARANTEED someone will compliment my outfit…and mean it.

And most importantly:

7. I can leave before 2am and I am not getting the crazy look.

Although we did not stay long (we ate at TGI Fridays before we came…you know that 3 courses for $12.99 menu meant the -Itis was sure to follow soon after), I felt fulfilled.

One thing I don’t like about clubbing is the always constant need to stay at the club until the lights come on and they toss us out.

Me? Give me an hour, maybe two, and I’m ready to go. By 1am, I’m checking my phone to see if it’s time to go. There’s only so much dancing and drinking I can do before I lose interest.

Another sign that I am growing up: Drinking to get drunk does not amuse me anymore.

My liver is thanking God right now.

Outside of the times where we were “escorted” (i.e. thrown the fuck out), I cannot count too many times where I have made it home before 3-4am after going to the club. I have far too many club booty friends and not enough “let’s go the fuck home” friends. Not to mention the unspoken “We come in together, we all leave together” rule. There have been plenty of times that I have been tempted to sneak out and catch a cab home…but damn that unspoken rule!!

Sometimes I wish I had more White friends…they’d abandon whoever they came with in a heartbeat! I mean on some “yeah I met this guy, yeah he kind of looks creepy, and I think that’s a blood stain on his shirt but he’s so cute, so I’m going to leave with him” and it’s like “ok girl bye call me in the morning!”.

I mean no copying down license plate numbers, taking a picture of his face with your camera phone, getting a blood sample, running a background check on the I Phone (there’s an app for that)…nothing!

After getting another drink, Hubby and I left and made the loooong cold walk back to the car. Spent less than $25 combined, tip included.

Compared to the $40-50 a normal club might cost (and that's if we get in for free)…

I looked at my phone.


Now that’s what I call progress.

I’ll be hitting the multi-cultural spots more. Far easier on the wallet…and my feet.

Of course, it won't be long before Black folk discover that spot!!


Monday, January 04, 2010

Oh Boy...

I wish I can say I have humorous NYE stories...

...but I don't

For NYE, I went to the movies & was back home well before midnight.

It was part laziness & part strong dislike of cold weather

Why do people think that I like cold weather due in part because of my Chicago roots?

For the record, I tolerate cold weather but I do not like it.

So after watching Sherlock Holmes, we came back home & watched tv and sent mass text messages *lol*

Ugh how "married" couple.

Now I can expect more questions concerning my ovaries for the next month because I know my family thinks we spent the night sexing it up so we can produce a grandchild.

As if I'm going the planned pregnancy route...can we say "oh damn that was the week I didn't take the pill on time & the condom broke" baby?