very necessary

i love. . .
pay day
shopping
cheescake
laughing my azz off
new york city
to be loved
bubble baths
family & friends
tulips in the spring
the sound music
puppies and bunnies and all things innocent

i find it in . . .

a comfy bed on a rainy day
free time all to myself
a baby sleeping
incense burning
a great pedicure
not having to pay . . .
understanding i’m not perfect and accepting it
having all the bills paid with money left over to spend

i’m filled with happiness when . . .
making you happy
watching my son grow into a strong and intelligent young man
being thought of in a special way
spending summer days at the beach
traveling when i can
fading a bottle of baileys irish cream
looking better in my dress than you do
finding money in a unforgotten pocket, just when i need it most.

love, peace and happiness is often right under our noses. embrace it.

*pics taken via phone cam november 27th 2003

Fried - Dyed - Laid To The Side

Ode to the neighborhood Beauuuuty Parlor: The around the way “Country Club” for Mens and Womens that like to get their hair “did”. Nope,nothing else can compare, except perhaps your mothers kitchen.

You see, sometimes an AVEDA concept salon, just aint going to cut it. Damn a head and neck massage. Pooh on aromatherapy products. Screw stylists dressed in all black, offering you nasty mineral water and coffee. That shit aint for everybody.

You need something fabulous. Yes, something unique . . . a finger wave herre - a pin curl thurr - some glitter - and a few Christmas ornaments. Maybe a Burgundy swirl coming down the side of your face? Something “different”. You can picture yourself strolling down the street and getting all of the compliments you deserve.

However, in order to thoroughly enjoy your visit at the neighborhood salon, there are a few things you must understand.

1. Your entire day will be on hold as 5 people are booked for the same 1:00 p.m. appointment. There is money to be made.

2. Your stylist hair looks a mess. Every time you see her, she has a scarf on her head - half a weave - or a plastic cap covering a “deep conditioner” that she should have rinsed out hours ago. You’re wondering why she’s dressed like she’s going “club hopping” in the middle of the day?

3.Every hairstyle, no matter what you’re getting, requires that nasty brown gel.
All the other stylists front like someone else’s client’s hair looks good until they leave the shop. When the coast is clear, its “I KNOW she ain’t let her walk up outta here like that! “

4. Your stylist just might take a cigarette break to smoke a blunt. But don’t worry, she’ll wait until you are under the dryer.

5. Thirsty? They got strawberry, orange, AND grape in the Coca Cola machine, but no damn Coca Cola.

6. Your stylist has a “gang” of Polaroid pictures from the club posted up around the mirror. The backdrops in the photos have things like champagne glasses and Tupac praying, airbrushed on them. Everybody in the picture has their hair “did” - EVEN the men. Everybody is “shitty sharp” and well coordinated, right down to the matching gators and weave.

7. Even though there is a “NO SOLICITING” sign in the window, you can still buy the latest bootleg DVD’s - CD’s -Handbags and Jewelry. As well as , incense - pies - cakes - and “dub” sack if you come at the right time.

8. After you’ve been waiting for an hour, watched 20 music videos and have scanned an outdated hairstyling magazine, your stylist will announce that she has to “handle some business” and she’ll be back in 15 minutes . . .which turns into 30 mins . . .45 mins. . .

You can watch the music videos, but you can’t hear them over the music that’s blasting.

9. The shampoo girl, knows she’s needs to go home and put a bra on. . . Titties hanging all down in your face.

10: A gang of knuckle head “Mens” are hanging out in front of the barber shop NEXT door to the salon. Every time you walk in or out of the salon, they are staring your azz down like they haven’t eaten in weeks.

11. Your stylist keeps calling next door to borrow the “good clippers” and some oil sheen.

12. No matter what time you’re appointment is, the “Nail Tech” is NEVER there. If you did want to touch up your nails, it won’t be at this salon.

13. Some flashy “baller shot caller” just has to be seen paying for his girls new “doo”.

14. The owner of the salon busts through the door - slams the door - and cusses out every stylist in his/her range of vision. This takes place in front of everybody. The gay stylist in the back keeps looking around like he knooooows she aint talking to him.

15. Finally, you’re hair is done and is laid like a mo’fo! But you can’t sleep on it, so you’ll be tired all week. *yawn* You go to pay your stylist, but she aint got no damn change. You have to ask everybody in the shop do they have change. Everyone is fresh out of change. Finally, the “Master Barber” next door can “break change” for you. But, only if you agree to “smile” for him, cuz you “look so mean”. LOL!

16. There’s a party in the “back room” if you want a beer.

——-
And yes - I know the above is a bit stereotyped and there are many nice salons that cater to our needs. But damn if I haven’t been to a ghetto salon in a neighborhood near you. You know it’s true.

A Peacock In A Land Of Penguins - I HATE MY CUBICLE!

These penguins keep trying to hand me one of their black & white suits. Yet, I just can’t manage wearing it for all of the vomit that would come next! Ya feel me? If not, you could very well be a penguin and that’s okay too. It just aint for me.

for a lack of a better title: read my shit.

yeah, so i haven’t been coming correct on the writing tip lately.
i know . . . i know . . . or at least that’s how i’m feeling.

it seems i have plenty i could write about, but i’m lacking both time and motivation. and i’m still not 100% sure why it interest me to entertain america with my daily episodes. i guess i enjoy the attention.

anyhoo, saturday nite a friend of mine lured me into a dumpy little juke joint with the promise of free drinks, a basket of wings and no cover charge . i had never been there before . . . and i shall not be returning!

this place was off the damn chain. it was filled with “street walkers” - “black bikers” - “pick pocketors” - “broke thugs” and “crack heads”. adding to the ambiance, was “karaoke nite”. yes america, karaoke nite for street degenerates. prostitues wanna sang whitney huston songs too. don’t hate.

did i feel out of place? kinda, but not really. i’m intrigued by people from all walks of life. people are soooo interesting to me. i’m a “people watcher”. many times i find myself encountering strange people out of pure curiosity. thus far, i’ve been relatively lucky in the sense of not having fallen into harms way. but i’ve definitely had some adventures!

the clientele had me laughing all nite long. some of the things i saw were absolutley hilarious! for example: the “crack head” performing his best rendition of David Lee Roths smash hit from the 80’s “Just A Gigolo”.

i never really cared much about that song until the other nite. i really, really wish i could replay the scene for ya, cuz it was a classic “crack head” moment. he had on a flashy blue short set w/ the matching cap and a bunch of “naps”. he had one tooth missing in the front and was painfully skinny.
singing . . .

“Just a gigolo
Everywhere I go
People know the part I’m playing.
Paid for every dance
Selling each romance
Every night some heart betraying.
There will come a day
Youth will pass away
Then, what will they say about me?
When the end comes I know they’ll say “Just a gigolo”, as life goes on without me.
I ain’t got nobodyI’m so sad and lonely nobody cares for me”

i dunno, maybe ya’ll don’t find the humor, but i’m telling you, it was straight up movie material. and i’ll tell ya what, he sang the hell out of that song. he was performing like a pro! he was dancing around, waving his hands like he was playing the tambourines at a baptist church. he looked like the type that will sing to you and bust a quick dance combitnation, right before he robs your azz!

people make the world go round. gotta love it!
thank you for reading my “shit”.
it will be greater later.

tick tock . . .

dang

for the love of puppies and bunnies and all things innocent - can i get a date?

and no, i’m not talkin’ about making it a “blockbuster nite” and i can hardly watch the movie
cuz
a negro is breathing down my neck and trying to screw me on the sofa
and
his clothes smell like reefer and cologne
and
i’m 2 seconds away from saying

um . . .don’t be trying to fall asleep over herre . . .

will you please leave so i can masturbate and sprawl out?

this is so fuckin’ boring type date

nope

i’m talking about scooping me up at around 7-ish
cuz
we have plans for the evening
and
it’s filled with easy conversation and gut busting laughter
and
i aint even thinking about how early i have to go to work tomorrow
or
did i leave a load of laundry in the washer?
cuz
at this point the daily humdrum is irrelevant
and

electric currents are racing through my body
cuz
his eyes are speaking to me in volumes
and
he don’t know that tonite, i may inadvertently decide to deliberately

unladylike

and that’s good news for him us.

so, i’m breaking him off with leather and lace
cuz
he knows what to do wit it.