The entertainment industry sure knows how to write and promote songs about makin’ babies - but what about taking care of them and raising ‘em right ? Where are the songs about that?

For those of you curious to know who keeps me from robbing banks and becoming a female serial killer who stalks and slays emotionally dysfunctional men (hey! another story outline in the works!) . . . It could ONLY be him - my 6′3″ cherub.

You see, once I learned of his conception back in 1992 (yes bitches, 1992) - I quickly figured out that it wasn’t about me, anymore. I decided from that point forward it was my responsibility to get my “little man” ready for the world. No matter what, through the good, the bad and the ugly - I have to be here for him and make sure he has a fighting chance to be successful in this thing we call LIFE. It is my job as a parent to teach him respect, show him unconditional, yet “tough love” and help nurture a decent, God fearing human being. I mean, don’t I owe all of us - you, me, him and society- that much effort, at the very least?

Too bad some parents haven’t yet grasped the concept.

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Okay, I know it’s sweltering outside and all - but homegirl (on the left) is walking around the Twin Cities lookin’ like a broke ass Patra (The Dance Hall Queen). What? She must want somebody to pull up to her bumper with them air-conditoned shorts on. And how about both of them are of the female gender. Yes, the big-burly, top-heavy, “incredible-hulk” lookin’ chick (on the right) is indeed a part of the x-chromosome team.

Dang. I don’t know about your neck of the woods, but the temperature in Minneapolis is straight up ROASTING. It’s at least 100 degrees here everyday - with no sign of change. The sun is relentlessly beating down on a chics head, somethin real drastic like. (I’ve been fading lots of ice cream and bubbly water). I mean, I enjoy the warm weather and sunshine - but that big ‘ol ball of fire hangin’ in the sky is working mad over time. And the humidity . . . OH WOW - it feels like I’m wearing a damp blanket everywhere I go.

And on a side note, I definitely don’t want no hot, sweaty dude laid up under me . . . or no where else around me. All this heat make the Saucy Dame Dizzle mean and surly.

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