Coffee Rhetoric: Random
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts

July 14, 2011

Au Naturale...

Anyone who reads this blog, knows my affinity towards Black hair being in its natural state - (without ever throwing shade to anyone who chooses to relax, straighten or weave their tresses. Makes no never mind to me how someone choose to wear their hair, but I realize women in my community are still very sensitive when it comes to hair... regardless of how it's worn, and feel the need to be combative and defend their choices ) - In keeping with expressing my love and appreciation for natural hair and hairstyles...  wanted to share this video of lyricist, Sa-Roc's visit to It's A Natural Thang Salon in Atlanta, GA, as she gets her locs maintained and styled into an awesome, futuristic-type 'do.
 
I'd also like to share this video of a UK Natural's visit to a natural hair care spa in Milton Keynes, UK called Mahogany, as she gets a fancy, cornrowed hairstyle. And yes these sorts of videos have the capacity to hold my attention for at least an hour or two... It's how I spend my Sundays. (Don't Judge!)

January 24, 2010

Slippery When Wet


I recently damned the complexities of dating and all its bullshit to hell. Cynicism aside; Upon further discussions with friends newly found and old, recent meet & greets, as well as random acts of thinking on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I've concluded that finding a decent person to spend quality time with on occasion, is akin to holding onto a slippery bar of soap, while trying to keep your shit together in prison. I've never been to prison and have no aspirations of landing my big break in that particular environment, but I would imagine that lathering up in a communal shower while deep in thought over how the hell you found yourself there... and then dropping the soap, only to bend over without thought or caution and get reamed within an inch of your life in an opportunistic sneak attack, is a traumatizing experience to say the least. You have to hold onto that bar of soap for dear life, and be methodical with every move you make as you lather your skin in a circular motion, shifty eyed and leery.

Dating requires patience, maintaining tough but supple skin, methodical movements, intellect, caution, and engaging in a carefully choreographed Adagio dance or angry Tango Ultimo with the opposite sex. As frustrating as trying to foster or nourish a certain level of intimacy or rapport with someone is; Being aloof, intuitive, and resolute is a must. Because if you let yourself slip up and get mired in the foolishness--- bam! You're doubled over, screwed out of nowhere. It's le marcher fou des sexes for sure. I'm constantly dancing over potholes and bird shit. I've even tripped over a crack or two... But all praises due to ỌṣunI always manage to regain my footing before going down, face-first like a cheap, ten dollar whore. Not sure what my score card would read like though. I shudder at the thought. And I bathe with shower gel most days, rather than soap sooo--- yeah.

December 06, 2008

Gene's Coffee

Overheard Friday morning, while I was standing in line at Dunkin Donuts for breakfast and coffee...
Random, middle-aged White woman (standing in front of me, in line, talking to an older white man standing next to her): Gene asked me to get his coffee for him, I forgot to ask him how he takes it.
Random woman yells across at someone standing a few feet away, to my left.
Random woman: I am picking up a coffee for Gene! I forgot to ask him how he takes it! Do you know how he drinks his coffee?!
Man's voice yells: He takes it just like he takes his women! Black! The woman grows silent, and faces forward.
I smirked and frowned at the same time. I refused to turn to see where it came from, however. I felt like me snapping my head to the left was almost expected. I didn't feed into it.

February 01, 2008

Bus Tales: Miguel

This Friday was a long and tiring day. I'm convinced that once Friday comes, we're put through the ringer on purpose by some antagonistic force, as a way to make us EARN the luxury of relaxing, after having made it through another tedious work week. The day drags on, there's one annoying occurrence after another, your feet hurt, headaches abound, and no amount of watching the time will make it go any faster. You're stuck. You simply must ride the wave until you're finally washed ashore, gasping from its impact. Speaking of washed ashore, it also rained buckets, like a pregnant woman does right before she gives birth. It was chilly, wet, dreary and gray. Making today even longer and more harried.
In any event, I got my favorite and most comfortable pair of boots repaired. Shoe repairmen and makers impress and fascinate the hell out of me. I'm always stoked when I go pick up a pair of shoes that I've taken in to be repaired at a relatively low price. It's like buying brand new shoes. Of course my favorite part of the transaction is seeing the satisfaction on the repairman's face, as you exclaim, "Wow! They look great! Thank you!" as he nods knowingly. In any event, I braved the element called rain to go get them. I simply couldn't wait until Monday. I wore them home. The bus ride home was equally as tedious, in addition to crowded, long, and wet... but oh so amusing. Let me explain...
A harried Hispanic man with is head shaved completely bald, clad in light wash jeans (very late 80's, early 90's), and a thin hooded jacket boarded the bus holding an open can of Coke. Rather than sit down, he stood next to the driver and directly in front of me rambling on in a gravelly voice... in Spanglish to the bus driver. The conversation went as follows...

"Mira! You goin' to Garden Street?" Bus driver (also Hispanic) nods. Then asks him in English where he needs to get off at. Agitated, the man then launches into some strange (and extremely comical) story about his roommate Miguel. He says some other things in Spanish before loudly exclaiming, "Man, I just got back from Home Depot! I had to go cash my check and go all da' way to Home Depot because my roommate Miguel, he left me with $1001 in back rent!!" He mutters some other things in spanglish to the driver. "My roommate just escaped from the convalescent home and everything and the cops came lookin' for him, right? The cops kicked in my door man! Lookin' for Miguel. I told them he wasn't here! They had the nerve to tell me I hadda pay a hundred dollas to replace that door that THEY kicked in!!"

Bus driver mutters something I can't hear because I've got my face buried in my coat, trying to hide my smirk. Miguel's roommate complains,
"I said, how come I gotta pay it!! I didn't kick it in! Ya'll kicked in my door and now I gotta pay?? Man, I went to Home Depot and bought everything I needed. I bought a new lock, the cement (or whatever he said) to make it hard... I said I'll fix it mahself! I paid forty dollas for all that stuff! I fixed the door myself!" They came kicking in MY door, I said Miguel ain't here. I live here. This is MY apartment. I pay the rent!"
"Yo, they kicked in my door. I fixed everything but the lock. THEN they told me I gotta pay fifty dollas to replace the lock!"

"You know, Miguel he's, he's 62 years old and he escaped from the convalescent home, and they lookin' for him 'cause they said he suicidal! He's got a lotta pro'lems!"

"Yo, so look... *insert more spanglish*... then Miguel had the nerve to come ova' to MY place, breakin' up my mailbox and shit... so I took pictures of him, you know, destroying my mailbox, then I beat his ass down! I kicked his ass!"
"I got arrested for assault! I was like, look! Mira! He came over destroying MY property, so you know, I showed them the pictures I took on my phone, of Miguel trashing and breaking up my mailbox and shit. So they reduced the charge to disturbing the peace! I hadda go to court and they just gave me a PTA (whatever that means) and that's all. But still. They still lookin' for Miguel. Alright man, gracias!"
Then he proceeds to grab his open can of Coke, flick his hood up on his bald head, hunched his shoulders in response to the wintry chill, and descended the stairs, thereby concluding the embattled tale of Miguel. ...

Fin

December 17, 2007

December 03, 2007

Unusual

This afternoon around lunch hour, I stomped down the street. The weather was frigid and rather grey and wet. There were slushy patches of harmless ice in strategic spots, on the asphalt. As I walked, I came upon a cluster of people standing in the middle of the sidewalk, spectating. Getting ever so closer, I saw a huge hawk in the crowd's midst... perched on top of a pigeon's carcass. Feasting and watching the crowd warily. As if warning them not to get too close. Not due to any hallucinogens or illegal substances, I've been known (in the company of me, myself, and I) to hallucinate or think I've seen something, that turned out to be a figment of my sick and twisted imagination. So I continued on with my gait... thinking lunch hour traffic had simply stalled for some ridiculous reason. Closer, I discovered the hawk was indeed, very real. At once mesmerized and intimidated, I made sure to do a wiiiiide semi-circle around the bird, as I didn't want to get too close. The people oohed and ahhed. "Enjoy the rest of your lunch!" One man shouted at the bird, as he left the crowd of spectators. One woman in a beat looking fur coat lit a cigarette and sneered, "Ugh. That's disgusting." I felt like reminding her that the food chain worked in mysterious, natural, and necessary ways, and that the spectacle was no more disgusting than her dingy fur coat and the heavy, dark bags under her eyes. But instead I just shot her an annoying look. Finally tiring of being the center of attention and having its lunch break disturbed, the bird spread it's massive wings, flew through the crowd (which seemed like the equivalent of flipping a figurative bird), and then up and away, causing the onlookers to gasp, duck for cover, and then part like the Red Sea. I wanted to pull out my cell phone and snap a picture of the anomaly, but was too chicken-dookey to get that close and risk being attacked by the large, winged creature. So I stood a ways from the crowd, and looked on from a distance. Anyway, I snapped a pic of myself instead and stole image of the bird from the internets.

October 31, 2007

Keeping a List

This past week coupled with this present week has been rather interesting, to say the least. For 3 consecutive days in a row, I've slept under a full moon... literally hovering o'er my head, just outside my window, In all its resplendent glory. I don't know if my moon has anything to do with the strange haps, but I'm convinced that I'm the only one who proceeds through life as if I'm an unwilling cast member in some Twilight Zone episode. Let's explore this short (but indelible) diary of occurrences. Shall we? Oh let's!
Saturday, 5:15PM:
As I was walking from the bus stop in front of Bushnell Park, en route to my apartment building a couple of blocks away, a shuttle driver pulls over and implores me to hop on for a free ride. I told him I was only mere inches away from my building, but he insisted. He said he wanted to "kidnap" me, so I rode the loop downtown with him. During the course of the ride, he suggested that I take some of the brochures from off the dash to read about the latest and greatest the city was offering. I obliged him, fully aware of his motivation. I stood up quickly, snatched some literature up, and sat down just as quickly. Seconds later, Driver would remark, "I just wanted you to stand up, so I can look," to which I remarked dryly, "I know. I figured I'd humor you, and let you get a quick peek. " Embarrassed and surprised by my response, he chuckled and said nothing more.
Monday, mid-Afternoon:
The Fire Marshall is scheduled to come test the museum's fire alarm system. It's difficult for him to focus on the matter at hand, because he finds my scent alluring. So alluring in fact, that he keeps sidling next to me and sniffing me. Deep inhalations of breath. While the few who notice, stand by, looking flummoxed by his behavior. He suggests that I work behind a cage, because men such as himself, are likely to pounce on me for smelling so good. I shrug indifferently. And manage a tight smile... or was it a grimace? His task complete, the Fire Marshall heads out and on his way. But not before walking over to where I'm working for one last, hearty sniiiiiiiiifffffff.
Wednesday, 9:15 AM, This Hallow's Eve:
As I'm standing at the bus stop, a white man (attractive and rather sane looking) around my age walks by me, towards the Holiday Inn Express... on his cell phone. Not finding what or who he seems to be looking for, he heads back in the opposite direction from whence he came but not before stopping and telling me how much he likes my shoes. In fact, the conversation went as follows ...
  • Perv: Hi, I really like your shoes. They're so hot.
  • Me (hiding behind large, dark shades): Thanks
  • Perv: They're smokin' Hot. They're so sexy. Listen, I'm sorta into shoes. Well... I have a bit of a shoe fetish.
  • Me: Do you, now?
  • Perv: Yes. Um, actually, can I take a picture of your shoes. They look so hot.
  • Me: No.
  • Perv: Please? I really like them. They look so hot on you. I would love to take a picture of them.
  • Me (considering an asking price): Umm. No.
  • Perv: Okay. Sorry to bother you. Have a great day. Bye!
Until this morning, I honestly didn't think my existence and interaction with the male populace could get any stranger. ...

July 30, 2007

Permutations on Love

Often on this blog, I lament a lot over being single and not having found my Rebel Prince, not ever having been in love, so forth and so on. As the aging process continues it's cycle (I'll be 30 next month), I realize that I'm not even ready to settle down with someone. A man would truly have to be something akin to one of the 8 Wonders of the World in order for me to fall head over heels and give up the solitude I so enjoy more and more each day. Fellow blogger, Hedonistic Pleasureseeker said it best, when she commented on the Over It entry:
When married people try to set me up I get a little suspicious. First, couples only seem to want to socialize with other couples. It's totally lame, but at least be a little flattered that they're trying to make it "ok" for you to be a part of their little group. Unattended marauding females being so dangerous and suchwhat, you're "safer" around their boyfriends/husbands if some OTHER guy has claimed ownership of your vagina. Men won't respect YOU, but they WILL respect the property rights of other MEN. I know, it's creepy, sexist and gross but it's the truth. Another reason I get suspicious is that I sense that some of them are jealous of my freedom and want to make me as unhappy as they are. Misery loves company! I love not being joined at the hip with someone I have to constantly negotiate with. "What do you want to do?" "I don't know, what do YOU want to do?" BAH! I want him to get out of my house so that I can take a bath and paint my toenails in peace!
I could not have ranted it better myself. As I believe I stated before, being a loner... enjoying my solitude does not mean that I am ALONE or lonely. All of this pining for someone... wanting... grasping... hoping... was all for naught. Particularly considering that I quite possibly would've had the relationship not having been ready for it or even truly wanting it. I would've grown stone-cold like a neglected cup of coffee. The concept of a full time lover would've grown stale. I don't even really want to entertain potential suitors or go on dates anymore. Having a hubby or a live in lover would mark an end to dancing in my underwear as I sing along to the Dream Girls soundtrack. It would mean no more sampling sauces and dipping the spoon back in the pan (a luxury I enjoy since I'm cooking for one). I'd have to eat Nutella out of the jar, on the down low. And worst of all, I'd have to share closet and bathroom space! I'm certainly not ready for that. If I happen upon a bar all by me lonesome, that's the way I want and planned it... and have every intention of leaving alone. A woman sitting with a glass of wine is nothing more than that. It's not an indication that she's on the prowl, hoping to be chatted up and treated to an additional drink and regaled with lascivious stories... at least that's not the case with me. Perhaps all I wanted all along were warm boy parts to keep my mattress warm. Notwithstanding the fact that the thrashing, tossing, and turning my dreams generate produce more than enough heat. How enlightening.

July 10, 2007

I'm not feeling Summer...

... and it doesn't give a squirrel's nut about me. Otherwise it wouldn't cause me such distress and discomfort. My boobs are sweating... and that's never good... I don't think. To quote a line I heard in a movie recently, it is (indeed) hotter than a jalapeno's coochie outside. Yes, yes, I know we're in the throes of summer but that doesn't make me feel any better. Once winter hits and snow and ice abound, I'll bitch about how cold it is outside, how I ruined another pair of boots, or how I slipped on some black ice and busted my ass. Why can't it be spring-like all year round?? Get bent hot, humid, stifling air!

June 21, 2007

All So Quiet

The time between 5AM-6:30AM is very comforting. There is this soothing placidity... a sudden stillness, as if the city is suspended between space and time. The cars that drive by are few and far between. The wailing sirens, trucks rumbling past, the train's whistle, and obnoxious motorcycle engines are nowhere to be heard... offering me a much needed reprieve, if only for an hour and 1/2. The only sound I hear is the slight breeze tickling the leaves on the trees and well kept brush, outside my window. I look across, at windows adjacent to mine and don't spy any early risers or room lights that've been flicked on. I feel as if I am the only one awake and that I have the city of downtown Hartford (CT) all to myself. Suddenly life's trials and tribulations don't seem so overwhelming. The whirring of my fan contributes to the calm before the impending chaos (garbage trucks, honking horns, garbage pails being dragged across the asphalt, etc)- and I use this time to hurriedly take a match to the tip of a tea light candle and meditate. But not before cursing myself for sleeping in until the last minute on those lazy mornings (which are often), I kept pushing the SNOOZE button over and over again, every 9 minutes... missing this golden opportunity to center myself and enjoy this solitary moment! I know last night was restless, due to the incessant motorcycle sounds, literally every 10 seconds... each one more guttural than the last... I got this annoying feeling in my gut... like indigestion, my annoyance ran so deep. I finally had to dig for some earplugs and shove them in my ear sockets, just to be able to fall asleep. I don't want to live in a rural area. I love urban living despite all its shortcomings and noise pollution. Perhaps this is why quiet times like these mean such a great deal to me. ...
**Note to self: Stop hitting the SNOOZE button, and drag your lazy hulk out of bed, to relish more of these moments**

June 08, 2007

This Much I KNOW is True...

  • Star(mega)bucks in downtown Hartford, is a yuppie magnet and it puts me off. Hearing them utter the Starbucks lingo is irritating and prompts me to defiantly ask for a COFFEE OF THE DAY, MEDIUM SIZE PLEASE, as opposed to repeating the toolish,
    "I'd like a venti soy orange frappacinno mochachokalottayaya thingimastuff with extra foam and skim milk."
  • I also know that spilling scalding hot coffee down my gauchos, on a particularly hot day isn't soothing to my soul or my thighs.
  • I know that Paris Hilton's release from prison after having served a paltry 3-5 days (of her 23 day sentence), for undisclosed medical reasons (idiocy?) is indicative of there being TWO different realities in this country. One for the rich, blonde, & famous and one for US
  • I know that Cat's new whip is hot and that I had fun joyriding around town with her, this past weekend. I also know that having to use my feminine wiles and my voluptuosity to get her a decent parking spot, from the parking attendants across the street from my building, should NOT have had to happen. They needn't have asked us if we wanted some of their chicken afterward, because they were "African." The offer didn't do anything to placate either of us, so we declined. Apparently assholism spans a wide spectrum, I KNOW this to be true. I keep hearing the James Brown "It's a Man's World" tune playing in my head, when I think of this incident.
  • I also know that I don't like being called "dear" by women close to my own age. It's condescending.
That's it.

May 30, 2007

Some Foolishness to Ponder...

I had a nice, long, extended weekend. I ate merrily and laughed raucously. Now it's back to the drawing board... this place that shan't be named. In any event, with nothing better to do than wish I were back outside frolicking in the sun, I'm left to ponder the minutiae to help get me through the day... Insignficant matters such as;
  • Why people drink their hot coffee through those small, brown, slender straws that double as coffee stirrers? It perplexes me. Sipping iced coffee through a straw makes a hell of a lot more sense than drinking hot coffee through a straw.
  • I also wonder whether or not people actually eat KFC's Famous Bowls? They don't look very appetizing and like they'd give someone a wicked case of mud butt (I mean, gravy AND cheddar cheese... on a bed of mashed potatoes?? I'll save the corn jokes). The very concept seems as if it were inspired by a small child, who played with his corn, mashed potaters, and chicken... and made a small mountain of cold, congealed nastiness on his plate.
  • I also wonder why I felt compelled to wear these damn pumps, knowing the heels need mending, for their caps are worn away from my walking all over, and the nails are starting to peep through? The likelihood of me slipping, is well... very likely. In addition to all that, whenever I walk across the floor or they click on the pavement, they sound like tap shoes.
Anyway, the bff Cat will driving up from Plattsburgh, NY this weekend. Time to lay down the old newspapers, stock up on some Febreeze, and to foolproof the wall outlets...

May 25, 2007

Nope

This morning, I was running late and wasn't in the mood for the type of condescension and patronizing tone only a a passive-aggressive manager, on a power trip can administer. I decided to dip into the chump change sitting in my checking account, and withdraw a few bucks to catch a cab. I walked across the street to the train station, in search of one. I saw a group of them, hovered over a game of checkers right in front of the station, where they all line up, at the ready for passengers. When I approached, they all looked up, and one of them said, "Hello gorgeous!" in that nasty, old man/dirty daddy way. I muttered good morning, between sips of iced coffee. Another asked, "You need a ride?" "Yes, thank you" I said. I recognized him as a driver from before, and he recognized me because he knew exactly where I was headed. "The museum, right?" he asked. I nodded, as confirmation. A third driver held the door open for me, as I climbed in. I nodded and smiled to show my gratitude for his chivalry. The back of my neck was already warm from the hot, 87 degree weather. I rolled down the window for a much needed breeze. Dirty Daddy asked my driver if he could ride along. Driver cackled and suggested that he ask me for my permission. Dirty Daddy stuck his head in, and said "Can I come ride along with you?" "Why?" I asked. And then I said matter-of-factly, "nope" before he could answer and then proceeded to roll the window up on him. Right before the driver pulled off, Dirty Daddy tapped on my window... when I turned my head to face him, he pursed his lips and blew me a skeevy kiss. "Get me out of here." I asked my driver, annoyed and disgusted. "Sure!" he said, as he laughed and guffawed at his colleague's lame attempt at picking up a young woman. "Don't mind him," he said... "He's crazy and needs a wife." I shrugged indifferently, to show that I was unruffled.
To Dirty Daddy: Please don't ever do that again. It wasn't sexy, and you almost made me throw up my Turbo Ice. Thank you. xoxo Coffey

Keeping Our Head Above Water...

Yesterday, after I was settled in at home from work, I caught an episode of Good Times on the TV Land network. Florida (matriarch of the Evans clan) came home, excited and breathless... ready to share with her family that she had just enrolled herself back in school, in hopes of obtaining her GED. Before she could relay the good news to her family, father James [Evans] interrupted, chastising her for not listening to HIS good news first. He had been hired for a better paying job with a construction company as a foreman, and the opportunity would possibly allow him to move up. Excited, Florida heaped praise upon her husband, before telling her family that she was back in school, and may finally have the opportunity to get her diploma after having dropped out in the 10th grade. Thelma, J.J., and Michael were ecstactic and hugged their mother. James (who dropped out of school in the 6th grade) on the other hand wasn't thrilled and a dark look came across his face. Suddenly he became discouraging and somewhat insulting... commenting, "Everybody knows that you can't teach an old dog new tricks!" He suggested that best friend, neighbor, and modern woman (for the time) Willona was the one, undoubtedly, putting such nonsense, as going back to school, into Florida's head. James also demanded to know what she planned on fixing for dinner. Willona proudly told James that she had finished school, got her diploma, and that it afforded her the opportunity to work at a clothing boutique. Florida challenged James (with Willona's encouragment) that if he tried to stop her from achieving her goal, he was gonna be faced with "One hell of a fight!" from her and suggested that she wouldn't be able to improve the quality of her (or the family's) life if she didn't see her education through to fruition. It was an intense episode. Due to my getting up to get a glass of vino and some Ramen, I missed the end. Good Times was filmed during the mid 70's, which wasn't that long ago. That particular episode, where James discourages Florida's desire to improve herself by turning into a chauvinist extraordinaire... brow beating and insulting his wife's desire to excel, prompted me to think about how difficult women... black women (as well as other women of color) in particular, had it during that time (and how difficult it still can be for us). I'm reminded of the whole concept behind (and need for) the womanist movement, encouraged by author Alice Walker and adapted from her book: In Search of Our Mother's Garden: Womanist Prose. The concept of womanism came to be, because women of color were left out of the mix during the feminist movement... which dealt largely with issues pertaining to white, middle-class women; and focused predominantly on suffrage and sexism. Racism and classism were not issues they related to or felt compelled to fight against. Womanism paints a portrait from the perspective of black women. When discussing issues of race or classism, the focus tends to be about the oppression of black men. Sexism tends to chart the plight and suppression of white women and how they overcame their struggles. It's rare to find literature that deals specifically with the oppression, suppression, and plight of black women, specifically. There are Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth, but how many other black women have traveled tumultuous roads, paving the way and fighting for civil rights and liberties for women of color? We grapple with sexism, classism, and racism. Throw sexual stereotypes based on ethnicity into that equation, thanks to the rump shaking featured in rap videos and the media's portrayal of us, and you begin to understand WHY the Don Imus incident caused such an uproar, after he described the Rutgers University women's basketball team as being "nappy headed ho's." Many people seemed flummoxed about the furor that statement incited. Some martyrized him, saying that his constitutional right to free speech was being infringed upon... which is true, but so is our right to freely be WHO and WHAT we are, without having to continously apologize or go through this multi-step assimilation process, because people aren't happy with how we look. It's maddening, and I'm sick to death of it. Snoop Dog weighed in on the Imus controversy, by justifying his (and other rappers') use of the term "ho's", after the rap community came under fire (or were scape-goated) for desensitizing the masses to the use of the word ho'. Snoop suggested that it was okay for rappers to disrespect certain types of women by calling them the ugly name, because they're referring to the ho's living in the projects, not "a successful basketball team." That didn't really do much to help our cause, now did it? It's a neverending battle, particuarly when you consider that we already have 3 strikes against us. I think of some of my own personal struggles, particularly since I wear my hair natural, I carry around an ample rear end, and I constantly have to defend the reasons WHY I don't act like [insert stereotype here], WHY black women aren't one- dimensional, and WHY I'm not going drop my shit like it's hot for some ignoramus who has OD'ed on videos shown on BET... or WHY I want you to kiss my ample rear, when you pigeonhole me and women of color or chastise me for my blackness. I will gladly continue to fight the good fight and refer to myself as a 21st century womanist.

May 24, 2007

Divination and Penis Power

Today my horoscope read:
"I will tell you a great secret," wrote Albert Camus (French Philosopher). "Do not wait for the last judgment. It takes place everyday." Author and activist John W. Gardner spoke of the same issue from a different angle. "To sensible people, everday is a day of reckoning." I offer up those words for your guidance in the coming days, Leo. May they inspire you to be fierce and willful, exuberantly unstoppable an wildly resourceful. May they remind you that even though there might be a world of pressure on you, that pressure is natural, merciful, and exactly what you need."
My tarot card read: You've reached a plateau. Or it may feel like it. This place which had been exciting only a little while ago is now somewhat dreary. And you feel ungrateful, but don't. It's only natural; the climb is over, you are simply keeping pace, staying even, and yes, you "thought" you wanted a rest, but now you are looking for some variety, something new.. excitement perhaps, or just the simple joy of bringing attention to yourself. Maybe, you want to catch up with that interesting crowd, but those potential peers seem too far ahead- ' when will they rest ' you wonder... Circumstances are making the road so long; you'll need to find cleaver ways to occupy yourself while staying moving. It is surprising just how quickly we grow to crave new challenges, isn't it? You don't have to know or trust the reasons you feel restless. The cards say ' break into a sprint', what you want is up there, hurry up, don't think.
Interesting. Anyway... here's yet another video touting the virtues of bagina power and the evil that emanates from the penis.

May 22, 2007

Guilty Pleasure

Imagine if Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samarai's writer and director Jim Jarmusch (who I spied dressed in all black, taking long strides down Greenwich Village once, a few years ago), Wu-Tang Clan's Rza, and Quentin Tarantino collaborated on an elaborate hoax... in the form of a scary film together, and refused to waste too much money sucker punching viewers who would eventually happen upon this stinker. The result would probably be the urban horror flick, Vampiyaz. I peeped this unconventional (and super low budget) take on an old tale this past weekend. The moment I noticed the spelling was sans the ...i.r.e.s. at the end, only to be replaced with y.a.z. I knew I had to add it to my Netflix queue, bump it up at the top, and watch it immediately, once it came in the mail! While the special effects are questionable (and laughable), and the dialogue left much to be desired, I was mildly surprised by how horribly good it was. It held my interest long enough, to see it through to fruition. It doesn't hurt that Vampiyaz's protagonist is hot and slightly resembles Canadian hip hop artist, K-os. Either way, this movie stinks to the high heaven... so much so, that it's actually quite good and has prompted me to recommend it to the masses. It makes Vampire in Brooklyn look Oscar worthy... Check it out.

May 19, 2007

Could THIS be the reason WHY I'm single??? This online quiz I took, has me pegged ALL wrong!

Update: I re-took this cupid test... to see what sexual type I was... I answered the questions, the same, exact way, and came up with a different result than, Ghengis Khunt, Brutal Sex Master. This one sounds more like me, than the former.

The Dirty Little Secret
Deliberate Gentle Sex Master (DGSM)

Innocent but fundamentally sexual, like the word "finger". You are the Dirty Little Secret.

Few women have the confidence for sex mastery, and among nice girls, like you, it's almost unheard of. So congratulations. You've had plenty of adventures, but you've remained a kind, thoughtful person. Your friends appreciate your exploits. They even live vicariously through you.

Your exact female opposite:
The Wild Rose

Random Brutal Love Dreamer
You seek pleasure, but you're not irresponsible. You are organized and cautious, and you choose your lovers wisely. One, you don't like dirtbags. And two, you like to maintain control. Or at least lose it selectively. You might notice that older men single you out. They have an eye for your sensual nature. Take it as a compliment.

You enjoy making people happy, and it's inevitable that many guys will fall harder for you than you for them. You're not completely comfortable in a serious, long-term relationship right now. Our guess is that the key to extended happiness will be finding a responsible, but kinky, mate.


ALWAYS AVOID: The Hornivore (RBSM), The Manchild (RBLD), The Last Man on Earth (RBSD)

CONSIDER: The Bachelor (DGSM), The Backrubber (DGSD)


Link: The Online Dating Persona Test @ OkCupid - free online dating.

May 18, 2007

Hangin' Tough

Ahhh, nothing better than seeing some undesirable hanging tough and buffalo stancing in front of a NO LOITERING sign, smoking a ciggie. Moments like that make rainy, clammy days that much more exciting. Summer brings the freaks out and about from hibernation, and the rain washes the rest of the lot out from under their moist rocks, to complete the freak fest.
Have a great weekend.