30 January 2009

Bumping in my Speakers...

Is it just me or did Friday take forever to get here this week? Sheesh! It’s been a long one for me. I’ve had so much going on, been overly busy at work and now that it’s finally Friday, I’m just ready to bolt outta here (the workplace) and start my weekend a few hours early.

Too bad I’ve gotta make a living. Ah well.

Anyway, here are some tracks that have been in heavy rotation. I’ve been on an “oldie” trip as of late (as if that’s news lol).


Black Sheep – The Choice is Yours

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This song hasn’t really been in “heavy rotation” but a few weeks ago, it popped in my head for no reason at all and wouldn’t get out for a few days so I said I’d post it in my next BIMS blog. This is also one of my favorite old hip hop songs as well. The flow is tight, the beat is catchy, and although I’m not a fan of the video, I love this song. As usual, daddy introduced it to my brother and I way back in the day when it was poppin. It’s still hot though. And word has it that Black Sheep is still performing this song at small venues, too.

Brandy – I Wanna Be Down

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Ahh, Brandy…back in the days where (in my opinion) she reigned nearly as heavily as Beyonce is now. I loved her voice and personality at 15 years old. I came upon a performance of hers in ’95 (I think it was Soul Train) on YouTube and she was sooo confident and had a cool edge. I loved that! She had this “I got this” vibe that I really dug. I also loved Sittin Up In My Room as well as U Don’t Know Me (Like You Used To). My cousin and I always made up dances to songs and the videos that did have dances like this one, we watched religiously and learned. I still remember the dance we made up to U Don’t Know Me (Like You Used To). Dopeness! Have You Ever is also a personal favorite and I even wrote a poem with the same title a few years back.

Jazmine Sullivan – After The Hurricane

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This song, as well as “Fear” are my favorite songs on the whole album. I want her to make a video on these songs and could have done without the Bust Your Windows video I(because I honestly can’t get with that song [and a few others on the album] because of the lyrics alone. The song is about a painful break-up and how it resembles that of a hurricane. You know it’s coming, but even when it comes, you aren’t as prepared as you thought you’d be because you saw it coming all along. But then when it’s all sad and done, you realize that though you
feel hurt, you’ll live. You’ll be okay in time. My favorite lines are the hook
and chorus:

Cause when the tears start flowin' and the wind starts

That's how you know it's comin' for you

When the rain start fallin' and you feel the pain comin'

That's how you know it's comin' for you

Just like a hurricane, just like a hurricane,
the way you break everything that comes in your way

Just like a hurricane, Just like a hurricane, the way you broke my heart and
now I'm left with the pain

After the hurricane....

Aside from that though, I just love Jazmine’s voice, I swear I do. If she ever gets marketed as well as Bey, I swear I’d buy all her stuff and become a ridiculous Stan of hers. I was so shocked to find that she is only 21 years old. I just knew she was some years older than myself. Turns out, she’s some years younger.

Jay Z – Meet The Parents

.. ......

I love Jay-Z (but I’m not a Stan, then again I did get my blog title "Coming of Age" from him, so maybe....; I see you, Ceege lol). I have always loved this song and what makes me love it that much more is the fact that it was free-styled all the way through. I couldn’t believe it at first. It’s so good and it tells a story so accurately. The very last line was a good capper to a great freestyle: “Niggaz be a father/You’re killing your sons”. I feel like every dead beat dad should listen to this song and then think about their actions lol.

Bonus: Kriss-Kross - Jump

I saw someone with a status on facebook quoting this song and I said I'd add it. For kicks. They were so small. And this song started some kinda backwards pants wearing, spider head, car-jumping embracing age for a while after this song hit. I loved it!

RIP the Chris that passed of Leukemia some years back.

.. ......

.. ......

What’s Bumping in Your Speakers???

When Six Aint Enough...

I can't go.

For some reason, this is bothering my soul.


This makes not a lick of sense. Why? Well while I'm all for fertility treatments if a person is unable to have children naturally, some things just shouldnt happen. Period. I understand there's an interview process that goes into deciding whether a (potential) mother is deemed "worthy" of said treatment. Here's why she should have definitely been denied:

1. This ignant lady already has six small children, ages 2 years old to 7 years old. She shouldn't have been granted access to the "fertility goods".

2. She is a single mother. A single mother with six kids. Living at home with her parents. That's violation numero dos.

3. When asked if all of the embryos planted would "take", would she want to get rid of said embryos as to lower the amount of births, she declines. (Keep in mind of the aformentioned housing situation, relationship status, AND....she already got SIX kids....in two-thousand and damn NINE!)


We're in a recession. In this day and age, three small children is an "overshare". These little kids are all miracles, no doubt. I just want--really want--people to be smart about the choices they make---when they are indeed given a choice......as this lady clearly had.

Another issue I have with this is....when it comes to adopting children, there's always this long and drawn out process for "who's fit", "who's able", and etc. The same goes for the fertility doctors as well. They interview, screen, and question relentlessly. They ask the parents personal questions like : income, housing situations, types of jobs held, hobbies--all that! Nothing in my head is making sense as to why this procedure was given the "nod" to be done. Nothing. It makes no sense.

We're in the office talking about it now and one of my coworkers just says, "she most likely wants help for her kids" and that made sense to me. In these cases, these families are broadcasted on talk shows, etc and are always given a "lifetime supply of pampers" and what not. So to that regard, as selfish and ridiculous as it sounds, I can understand the motive...but even still.

I can't go. Ugh. I dont even know why it's bothering me so much this morning. Maybe because it's sooooooooo ridiculous and reeks of the lack of common sense used with ALL parties involved. Either way, I'm glad the little ones made it here safely and all that. Now I just pray that they are properly raised............

Bumpin In My Speakers will be soon,


PS; Here's another link posted in the comments by Assertive Wit (Thanks, Syn). Check it out. It gets more ridiculous. *sigh*

28 January 2009

Why Me? Please Stop....

I’ve been told that I am very attractive my entire life and while I love being pretty and all that jazz, there lies a love/hate relationship for me with my looks. One of the most hated things I have is…being approached….by thee most undesirable men in the history of Life. I freaking hate it!!!

Now some of you can recall my memorable story on the subway where the man was literally fondling his genitalia near me…and using me as his muse. That was way back in the beginning of the Summer 2008. Some of you may also remember the man from the club…that was married…but not in a relationship as well. That was also sometime during the summer. Since then, however, so many things have occurred, I swear I could have my own book based on my stories alone. My life as far as being approached goes is seemingly never-ending and not to complain…but dammit I’m tired!

You see, there’s a reason that I chose not to share such ridiculousness so often on my blog. There’s a few reasons that I don’t talk about why when I go to the club with my homegirls, I tend to stay in one spot, versus venturing off and getting overly social…even after drinks. There’s a reason I sit down at the club at all costs at least a couple times while there instead of standing all 6-feet-2-inches of me (in heels…I am 5-feet-9-inches tall in reality) and dancing like the non-amateur that I am more often than not. There’s a reason that I don’t give my number out but to extremely few. There’s a reason I absolutely hate getting gas for my car, especially at night. There’s a reason why while with the amount of men that come up to me and “spit game” and whathaveyou, I should be something like a dating expert, because the opportunities are definitely there….ten times over. Ugh. But there’s a reason why I when asked, I can say, “date? Yea..I hardly do that”.

And the reason isn’t just because I’m not “on the market” in the first place.... It isn’t just because I’m standoffish as all Hell, making me overly perplexed when I am approached because…I strongly believe that I give off nothing that screams “Talk to Me”…ever. But it is because as I stated above…I’m tired! It is because I get irritated by the fact that my looks seem to give license for certain men (read: thee most undesirable men in the history of Life) the right, the gall, and the balls to act a fool in my direction…for me! And it is because just for a month, preferably a month with 31 days, I’d like to just be one of those overlooked girls. That girl that these ridiculous men don’t see. Ridiculousity breeds through the inner person as well so….that also includes decent looking men that have a tendency to get butt hurt and overly dramatic when “I hurt their feelings” and tell them, “I’m just not that into you". I just wanna be able to go to the grocery store, grab my hot chocolate from StarBucks, get gas, Hell…drive my car on the expressway…in peace. Is that too much to ask?

I think God saw that as a “huge” request because today was just too darn much for me.

I took off work today because I had a court date. You see, on Christmas Eve, I was in a car accident. On Christmas Eve, the weather had thrown another ridiculous fit, making it very hard to tread the road comfortably. This also means that when driving on the road, you had to do about 20 miles under the speed limit because the roads were damned to Hell. Anyway, long story short, a man hit my car because he was speeding at a ridiculous level…and I get a ticket…because unbeknownst to me, my car insurance had expired just a few weeks before the accident. *sigh*

So I was in court to show a proof of insurance. Fine. This wasn’t ridiculous. Standard procedure, I understand.

This is my first time ever having to go to court for anything other than jury duty so everything was new to me and I quickly found out that….my patience level wavers like the tide. I swear it does.

So I’m in a courtroom with about 82 other individuals all waiting for our names to be called so we could spend 25 seconds with the judge, who makes a quick call to either throw our case out…or give us a fine. I get to the courthouse twenty minutes late because I spent twenty five minutes looking for a parking spot in the overly crowded courthouse. Having no luck at all, I give up and park in the Employee Parking Lot and head on inside.

On the way inside, a raggedy, scrangly looking man that reeked of cigarettes, piss, and some liquor my dad used to chug back in ’93 tries to stop me with, “ooh you don’t belong here! What did you do with your fiiiine self? You killed a nigga with your looks, didntcha?!” I heard all of this as I was going in his direction and kept stepping as if he wasn’t even talking to me. When I passed him, he goes, “Oh! I see! You’re too gooood for a nigga like me, aintcha?! *now yelling as I’m a good piece past him now* But you know what? I aint gon let you kill me, Miss Fiiiiiiine. Nope!”

I already had an attitude because I was late and I didn’t know that I would be in the courtroom with 82 other individuals. I thought it was my date alone, so I instantly thought of some unnecessary fine that would be given to me because I was so late. I go through the metal detectors and *BEEP* went the thing my purse went through.

“You have a camera in your purse. You have to go take that to your car and come back inside.”

I completely forgot my camera was in my purse. My camera is ALWAYS in my purse. I tried to reason with the lady in security that I could leave my camera there with an ID….because I really didn’t want to go back outside because it was cold…and also because I didn’t feel like being verbally harassed again by the man outside……….but she refused. So I took my L and shoved the camera in my coat pocket and made my way back to the car. Luckily I pass the man on my way to my car with ease as he was busy talking to some young boy. But on my way back inside, he sees me and goes, “Damn! I just saw a girl that looked just like you go inside not long ago! Are there TWO of yall?!"


There are explicit signs all over the courtroom that say “NO TALKING!!!” and other rules. When I get in the court room, a kind man sees that I am apparently visibly “new” and directs me to the check-in post and all that. When I am finally able to sit down, I take a seat and wait (im)patiently for my name to be called. At some point, everyone gets briefly kicked out of the courtroom because some buffoon wouldn’t stop talking which resulted in a full-fledged argument between him and another man and then them and the judge. When we are all allowed back inside, I instantly notice the idiot who issued me a citation (he’s an idiot because he incorrectly reported the accident and didn’t give the other driver a citation as well) and he is sitting with the other cops. Watching me.

When my name is finally called and the judge reads off what the cop reported as a reason for my citation, I shoot the cop a look and say, “that is incorrect, sir. I am here to prove insurance. Here you go” and show the bailiff my insurance papers, dart my eyes in the idiots direction, and look at the judge. I really didn’t feel like spending time trying to analyze the incident, when when it’s all said and done, I just needed to show my insurance papers. However, when I receive my fine (ugh!), and head towards the exit, I make sure that I give the idiot a mean side eye.

When I get just feet from Freedom (the exit to the courthouse), lo and behold…the idiot that issued me the citation comes upon me.

“Hey! I’m sorry you got fined. So, um…where ya headed?”

Already annoyed, I just give him a look…and keep walking.

“That’s what we’re on?”

Now I respond, “What? I mean what do you want? You incorrectly reported the accident, only gave ME a ticket, which result in me being here all day long just to show the judge my insurance papers that end up getting me a fine anyway. What do you want? Matter of fact….save it. I’m late for where I have to be”. And keep walking. The nerve of this guy!!!

I get to my car and leave the courthouse and I notice that…….I’m being followed.

“Um…is this nigga FOLLOWING ME?!” I said to myself. Out loud. I make a turn into some neighborhood I no longer recognize and the follower pulls up next to me.

It’s a stranger. “Hey. I’m sorry. I saw you leave the courthouse and couldn’t just go without saying something. You are….so pretty. So beautiful. So…”

“Well thank you very much” I say as I lighten my mood up a bit.

“What’s your name?”

“Mal—“ (I said the whole name)

He reiterates how pretty he thinks I am and asks how old I am. He is 28 and doesn’t care about the five year difference as long as I don’t. I don’t care about the difference either…but I wasn’t interested, so I politely say, “no thank you. Thanks so much for the compliment though” and try to roll my window back up. It’s cold in Chi!

“But, mami (he’s Latino), you’re SO pretty. I mean…please? Come on. Just—please?!” He pleaded two more times before I thanked him and rolled my window up in the middle of his adoration and kept it moving. Pleading? Really? Yea…I don’t do well with beggers. I wasn’t interested and pleading made it that much worse.

I’m aware that reckless behavior and situations happen to ALL people…but they happen to me way too often and I am sick of it. Today was a solid day….but I could have done without the undesirable male rigmarole. Don’t they know that I’m hella particular...(not to mention, not available)? Sheesh!

26 January 2009


Last night, I was watching a movie on Lifetime (don’t start; Lifetime is what’s up….sometimes) about a “woman” that was brutally beaten to death. It was a pretty interesting movie and I’m not sure whether or not it was a true story.

The movie, whose title I completely forgot at this point, was centered around uncovering what had happened to the “woman” and why she was beaten so brutally.

The “woman” was a transsexual who was born a perfectly healthy male. Throughout his entire upbringing, he said that he never felt right in his “male skin”—that he always felt like he was placed in the wrong body. I’ve seen several talk shows and stories about cases like this but it wasn’t until I saw this movie that I actually understood it.

In the movie, a therapist of the then-male teenager had told the boy’s mother that they believed that something psychological had happened to him while he was still in his mother’s womb. That he was technically a male but while being “created” in the womb, female traits/personality/etc were all stored in his male body. So while he looked like a male, in his mind, he was really female. That revelation weirded me out, to say the least.

But when it was broken down like that, it made more sense to me. Despite the many talk shows and stories I’ve read and watched, I’ve always had an inner judgmental eye for transsexuals that said, “yea…you’re a freak”. I’m not one that cares what a person does in their personal life, so bisexuals, homosexuals, and transsexuals never phased me too much. It’s what they are and has nothing to do with me and my life whatsoever. In fact, one of my best friends is a lesbian. However, even with all of that, in my mind, I still didn’t excuse transsexuals from being extremely different and yes…weird. But as stated, that psychological explanation hushed up those judgmental thoughts completely.

But back to the movie. The mother of the child always knew something was different about her son and even said that she felt a change go on within him while she was still pregnant with him (which I personally didn’t believe but then again—who am I? I’ve never had any children but as they say—“a mother knows”—shrugs). As he grew older, he began experimenting with makeup and jewelry and soon began wearing it regularly. He was taunted and ridiculed, no doubt, but his mother began to accept him and when he changed his name to “Gwen”, she called him by the name he chose. She was very cooperative and understanding and I think that’s all “she” really desired in the first place.

After a few years, “Gwen” had become a full-fledged woman on the outside. “She” began dressing as such, living her life as such, and even had a boyfriend, to which case problems definitely arose.......because “she” had never told him of her situation.

There were men that were curious though. “Gwen” had big feet, hands, and very strong features. One of the men even remembered “Gwen” from high school…….when she was still a he. It dawned on them that “Gwen” could have possibly been a “he” as “she” had never had sex—only oral. For them, all of the pieces fit…and they were going to do something about it.

Needless to say, “Gwen” was beaten to death for being a “freak”. “She” was beaten for five hours, hung, and buried by men “she” knew and had befriended.

Sad indeed.


1. Do you think that “Gwen” deserved the beating?

2. What about marriage? There are people that decide to wait til marriage to have sex. My granny says that “the waters should be tested before jumping in the pool” and to that degree—I concur! But what do you think?

3. What would you do if you ever found that your mate was a transsexual? Personally, I’d do a looot of fighting. I’m not a confrontational person in the least….but that? That warrants it.

But how about you guys?

25 January 2009

Symbols Say A Thousand Words...

I've got one tattoo. It's pretty small and it is a Japanese symbol of "Love".There's a bit of a backstory and a lot of symbolism that goes into why I chose "Love" as my tattoo and why it's located on my right shoulder/upper back....but Iwon't get into that...

So today I'm looking over images for my next tat. I don't plan to actually get such tat until around the summer time (when my money should be less comical than it is now), but I like to look at possibilities every now and then. I'm perusing some Japanese symbols and fall upon this image:

Needless to say, it means, "I Love You". Unlike American culture, the Japanese have symbols that represent full sentences, rather than just one word. I thought this image was pretty ironic, no?

22 January 2009

The Mass Agree Part 3

…is finally here!

But first, a little background:

Way back in the day (read: two months ago) when President Obama was officially elected, I wrote two blogs: The Mass Agree Part 1 and The Mass Agree, Part 2. These blogs were basically reaction blogs to what had transpired on Tuesday, November 4th. All of the emotions, the feelings, the traffic—all of it. I had also started a poem a few days before he was actually elected…but never finished it…until now.

It has never taken me so long to finish a poem. Ever. I started it on November 2nd and up until last night, I had only written a line or two at a time, changed some stanzas, did some deleting, critiqued what I had at the time, changed the entire feel of the piece, and just procrastinated pretty hard. I think I just wanted it to be really, really good. I wanted to put my all into it, however one thing I learned from that attempt was…..my best pieces are created when I’m right in the moment at one time…not when I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to perfect it.

Before I present it though, I must give a “shout out” to my homie, Ronnie. For two months, he’s been encouraging me to “kick it in high gear” and get it done. He’s even helped me with the organization of the piece. And when I was particularly not feeling like touching the poem at all and started writing other pieces, he’d remind me, “Yo, Mal….you know you gotta get that Obama piece done…right?” Point blank: he kept me on my toes and made sure I got it done.

You may not even think it’s all that great…and that’s fine. But I’ve been “working on it” for months (literally) and I’m proud of it. I so rarely show my pieces but I think this deserves a showing.

So…without further adieu, here is….The Mass Agree, Part Three. Enjoy:

The Mass Agree, Part Three

Dreams are considered imaginary figments

That mold and develop within the minds of every pigment

While some aren’t meant to be, others stick together like dried cement

But it isn’t the dream itself that holds, it’s the dreamer beneath it

In the segregated years

Shadowing deep angst and mass fears

Blanketed all by lines defined by color that refused to be smeared

So sat in the place of good were a bucket load of tears

MLK marched and had a Dream that color lines were as vague as they are today

And no doubt, he was an integral part in paving the way

There’s still a battle to be fought, but not taking his effort for naught

Without his dreams and sacrifice, the country may be in a deeper state of dismay

Through the emotional rain, there lay a dream big as can be

A dream systematically greater than “the best”--the average Joe & Jane--you and me

Let’s see. How’s a thing so great to be?

The struggle for a remoteness in social equality

The road to change has been paved for ages

And through the years, the tough times, the sacrifices, the many stages

Many said we’d stay lost--say we’d never make it

And were told to chalk our efforts up to trial and error within the black historic pages

Until one man fought against the grain and broke through seemingly unrealistic barriers

And as he continued to look ahead, onlookers became scarier

In fear of the progression that resulted and the trust that was awarded

But as the end drew near, the anticipation became merrier

Gone were the blatant lines drawn, uplifting segregation to the highest level

Temporarily null were the snickers and the stares given that kept blacks in between poverty and unrelenting success—an invisible vestibule

What seemed to vanish were the color lines—the “Black”, the “White”, the “Asian”, the “Hispanic”, and…the ”Other”

No boxes to check; we are one group, one nation standing together

…even if it was just for a moment

This is…a moment of reflection

To relish in the much needed change of the country’s direction

To note our collective struggles, no matter the skin’s complexion

To realize the battle isn’t over and part of the strength is finally awarded…that’s the connection

Some feared change and wanted to relish in the methods of the past and present

Others knew the time had come but in their minds, they were still quite hesitant

In the end, the mass agree with what was truly Heaven Sent

The dream that came true—the coming of our 44th President


20 January 2009

Today Is An Awesome Day, Part 3

I’m watching the parade now (I promise you no one is working in the office. It’s officially Obama Day!) and Obama done got out the limo and started a-waving—showing his face and all that. Is it wrong of me to be deathly afraid at this point? I really want him to get back in the car!

Okay I’m done…

If you’ve missed them:

Part 1

Part 2

Obama Lover,


Today Is An Awesome Day, Part 2

If you missed the last blog, catch it HERE.

I had to go ahead and make another blog—another part. Why? Well because the feel of the last one was so sincere and heartfelt. This one? Well this one is completely opposite of that, simply because I’m no longer talking about my best friend for 2009, President Barack Obama but…..George. Bush.

Now, everyone and their pet should be watching the Inauguration today. Did anyone else find that whole “going away” mini-ceremony for the President of the Devil, George W. Bush, a bit much? I mean…I totally understand that it’s “tradition” and all but in the spirit of all things right, did he really deserve all that? I mean for ten minutes, we had to see him walk to the helicopter, then the cameras focused on the Obamas and Bidens and how they looked at the helicopter, then we had to watch Bush get his ass in the helicopter, then the door had to close all slowly, then we had to witness the propellers go faster and faster (while the plane was still on the ground, no less) and then the Obamas and Bidens had to wave in unison and finally…..Bush was headed off and we had to watch him go up in the air and away from the goodness of today because…we don’t want a devil in the abyss, right? Right.

I just thought it was all so incredibly stupid. And I think Vice President Biden thought so too. When they had the cameras focused on the Bidens and Obamas when they were about to wave in unison at the helicopter, Joe Biden thought he was mad slick but…he saluted Mister Bush off before he gave the official “unison wave” on out. Like…”peace, nukka…and God Speed”. I chucked him the deuces and muttered to myself, “But why?! He condemned the nation to Hell! If anything, he should just make himself ghost today and forever on out because as far as I’m concerned, Bush should be worrying more about his safety than he does a proper goodbye. No one cares! Peace, nukka!”

Am I alone in feeling like this? Or did Bush really have some followers post the 4th Quarter of 2008? I’m just saying…

I've got one more part....

Today Is An Awesome Day

Today is an awesome day.

I didn’t think it’d be that awesome at first though. For starters, I didn’t get much sleep last night (good ol’ Insomnia) and got to work about an hour and a half late, not only because I was rushing from lack of sleep but also because…I took the train to work today because I refused to drive. It had snowed super hard this morning. I didn’t feel like it at all. And the trains ran ridiculously off-schedule.

Once I walked into the office, however, everything changed somewhat instantly. I walked in right when the inauguration was starting, Obama was shown, and a couple performances/speeches were being performed/spoken before he came onto the podium. For an hour at the office, no one worked. Our eyes remained glued to the television screen. My coworkers and I were in unison, shouting our “Amen”s, “Yes, Lords” and clapping excitedly as the awesome day began to unravel itself.

The prayers given were beautifully spoken. The poet that performed was awesome and her piece was very articulately read. The cameras showing the droves of people that came from every corner of the country for the event in DC as well as key areas such as Selma, Alabama, Indonesia, and Kenya were very awe-inspiring and touching. The world gathered together—united and stood still for this moment. And for once in our nation’s entire history, the people of the nation were unified and exemplified the very meaning of the Pledge of Allegiance. It was an awesome day indeed.

When Obama came up to the podium and gave yet another moving speech, I kid you not that tears found a place almost uncomfortably at the corner of my eyes. I was deeply moved by his words as he mentioned the backroads taken so that we as American People could not only be afforded but also be a part—an integral part--to such change that starts…today. Not a year and a half ago when Obama became a possible candidate for the Democratic party, not in June 2008 when he beat out Hillary Rodham Clinton and became the Democratic nominee, and not even November 4th when he survived a very tiring yet awesome and expertly constructed campaign run against Republican nominee, John McCain through the months of rumors, suspicions, and mass fear from every corner of not only the country but the world as a whole. None of that counted. What counted…what made things official was…today. January 20th. 2009 when we, as an American Nation, officially announced our 44th President of the United States, President Barack Hussein Obama.

Today was an awesome day indeed. I have a poem I've been working on forever. I am still not finished but as soon as it is done, I will be sharing it.

Smiling contently,


PS; I’ve just construed three parts to this blog. Consider this Part 1. The other two will be up shortly. (out)

15 January 2009

Terrible (Negative) Twos...and Counting...

I really shouldn’t be surprised, but I am.

I’m a small (read: muy slim) chick. Because of that, I am always colder than everyone around me and I get cold much quicker than anyone else as well. So when I walked to my car this morning to have it warm up for a few minutes before I head out for work and walk back in the house only to find that my hands were practically frost-bitten through my insulated gloves, I thought it was just me...because it usually is. It wasn’t until I looked at the television before leaving work (GMA is what’s poppin in the mornings!) and find that at the time, it was twelve degrees. Twelve degrees is cold as (can I say “Hell” even though Hell is supposed to be um….Hot?)…IJS…Twelve degrees makes me wish I had hair now…

I digress…

It’s colder than it’s EVER been here in Chicago. How cold, you ask? I just looked at the Weather Bug thingy on my computer and……..it’s now negative two degrees outside. Negative two. Like two degrees below freezing.

I told y’all here that I hated winter, didn’t I? It’s really not the business.

As if that’s not bad enough, I was talking to a homie earlier who told me that he heard that it’s supposed to get to negative thirty out here. My thoughts?

How in the Hell is that even possible? Like is that even livable? I’m just saying…..negative thirty is worse than the Arctic, isn’t it? Can polar bears thrive through that comfortably? What about the Eskimos? Even still…..here in Chicago, there are no Eskimos, polar bears, or igloos in sight, meaning…….we don’t do that kind of cold. And apparently we haven’t since……..1996.


It’s times like these where I really wish I forsaw myself moving to another, more warmer climate soon, instead of understanding and taking grip to the reality that I’ll be in Chicago for just a bit longer.

I love my city. Believe me, I do. But this cold stuff? This freezing stuff? This weeeeelllll below livable temperatures stuff? It’s not even for the birds. It’s for some other sucka. A sucka called an Eskimo. And we Chicaoans aint suckas.

Beat it, Cold. SCRAM!!!!!

(rant over)