WHAT IS THIS??!! VELVET?

Brute

2010-08-08T21:39:00.003-04:00

“It comes down to this: black people were stripped of our identities when we were brought here, and it's been a quest since then to define who we are.” –Spike Lee

I went for a run in the park with a friend before church. When we were done she shared something that is quite horrific.

Friend: My cousin and her friend were robbed at gun point last night.

Me: WHHAATTT??!!! WHERE!

Friend: Up in the Bronx. Two dudes were trying to holler and her and her friend. They went inside the corner store to get some snacks. Dude was like “If you aint gonna get at me… then you need to give me something!” She’s a Bronx chick, so she got to talking loud in the store…

Me: She reserves that right! Although these days you have to be careful.

Friend: Exactly! Dude was like “I’m gonna get something from you!” He pulled out a gun and made her give up her phone.

Me: Please tell me she dropped the phone….

Friend: She did. Meanwhile the other dude was in the next isle doing the same thing to the friend. They got away. The police came and as the girls were talking… 5-0 came to the conclusion the thugs matched the description of an incident that took place a few blocks up with some other females.

Me: Damn. I’m so sorry that happened! She okay? How old are the girls?

Friend: 16. I guess so. Let’s just say she’s shook, happy to be alive, and can’t wait to get to church today…

Me: I know that’s right!

Rewind to the 3am this morning. Shots were fired on 144th and Lenox (my hood) leaving one dead and six wounded. The fight was over a woman. (Click link to full article) http://www.ny1.com/content/top_stories/123410/one-killed--six-injured-in-harlem-shooting .

around 10pm last night I was walking out the door of my complex when I stopped to talk to the girl who lives in the apartment above me.

Neighbor: You always look so cute, why you out here dressed like a lesbian?

I had on what I refer to as “ex boyfriend gear” (the stuff you never gave back). Oversized basketball shorts, Air Jordan Tall T-shirt, flip flops with tube socks, and a fitted hat which my head scarf hung from underneath.

Me: (laughing) I do look like I’m bout to go hoop…. with my girlfriend!

Neighbor: Where are you going?

Me: The grocery store. Truth is… I always dress like this after dark. I just don’t want to deal with the drama.

Neighbor: Drama?

Me: This isn’t me trying to sound self-centered or anything… but I purposely dress like crap. I don’t like the big groups of dudes trying to get at me, commenting on my body, or grabbing me. No one wants to hear “Aye, yo ma… can I talk to you?” “Can I walk with you?” “Daammnn you got an ass… let me holla at you!” And they always stare…….. licking their lips like lions… and I’m the last antelope left in the world!

Neighbor (Cracking up): Yo! I thought I was the only chick that gets extra baggy when I’m in chill mode cause I don’t want to hear it!

Me: Unfortunately, you’re not!

Neighbor: I feel you! It’s like DAMN! I’m just trying to get some milk! LEAVE ME ALONE!

Me: Foreal. Conversation always plays out like this:

Dude: Aye yo ma, I’m trying to get to know you
Me: Why is that?
Dude: I just want to holla (looking at you all nasty)
Me: No Thanks.
Dude: You got a man?
Me: Yes
Dude: Well… can’t you have friends?
Me: Nah, I’m good on friends.
Dude: That’s a lucky dude that’s hittin that. You got a phone?

Is he serious?

Neighbor (shaking her head): Always the same. And you have to say something back. If you just ignore them… they get loud and want to yell at you like “BITCH! YOU THINK YOU TOO GOOD TO TALK TO ME?”

Me: It’s really sad. And in large groups it comes off as a threat! Do I look like the type of woman who would respond to that nonsense from bunch of dudes in white t- shirts all unproductive and unruly on the corner?

Neighbor: Actually, dressed like that you blend right in with them.

Me: FORGET YOU SON! I’m going to the store!

It bothers me. From men I call “brotha” I fear. I have to walk out my way to avoid street dudes, mask my body… but even worse engage you in a conversation so that you can feel respected… when you stand there on the corner with the intent to disrespect me. Who is to blame for this?

Absentee fathers?

The low self-esteem brod who responded to this foolishness?

The Media?

“The Man” for keeping you down thus forcing you to hang on the corner cause you can’t get a job? So now acting a fool is your way to “take back power”.

Hip-Hop?

With the gentrification of my neighborhood it sickens me that many non-black females are being subjected to this harassment. Black woman know and understand not all men in our community act like this. But for many White and Asian girls on my block… their first encounter with a person of color is now one of uneasiness. One that degraded them. One that now gives them a reason to say “I’m scared of ALL black men.”

The stereotype that has plagued society since the beginning of time continues to live among a nation that ironically is lead by a phenomenal black male.

The black brute. It’s time to take control of how others define us.
When is enough….. enough?

Transcript pulled from Jim Crow Museum:

The brute caricature portrays Black men as innately savage, animalistic, destructive, and criminal -- deserving punishment, maybe death. This brute is a fiend, a sociopath, an anti-social menace. Black brutes are depicted as hideous, terrifying predators who target helpless victims, especially White women. Charles H. Smith, a writer at the end of the 1890s, claimed, "A bad negro is the most horrible creature upon the earth, the most brutal and merciless."1 Clifton R. Breckinridge, a contemporary of Smith's, said of the Black race, "when it produces a brute, he is the worst and most insatiate brute that exists in human form."2 George T. Winston, another "Negrophobic" writer, claimed:When a knock is heard at the door shudders with nameless horror. The black brute is lurking in the dark, a monstrous beast, crazed with lust. His ferocity is almost demoniacal. A mad bull or tiger could scarcely be more brutal. A whole community is frenzied with horror, with the blind and furious rage for vengeance.3--snip--The "terrible crime" most often mentioned in connection with the Black brute was rape, more specifically, the rape of a White woman. At the beginning of the twentieth century, much of the virulent, anti-Black propaganda that found its way into scientific journals, local newspapers, and best-selling novels focused on the stereotype of the Black rapist. The claim that Black brutes were, in epidemic numbers, raping White women became the public rationalization for the lynching of Blacks.

Cadillacs, Cabs, and Dummys

2010-06-19T20:35:00.003-04:00

Dad: My strength, my heart, my nerve, my fight. HAPPY FATHERS DAY TO MY BEST FRIEND!

Thus far my 25th year on earth has been one of self discovery. And what I have learned is… the older I get the more like my parents I become.

I’m going to take you back to 1996. I was in 6th grade and my brother Justin in 4th. Dad had recently purchased a 1975 gold and brown Cadillac from a grocery store parking lot for $300. Here we were…. one of 5 black families living in the suburbs of Des Moines, Iowa and my dad had to be the one driving a pimp mobile. He called it a classic….I called it an embarrassment. I used to lay down flat in the back of the thing so no one would see me… but the truth is, when you live in a small community… everyone knew who owned the car whether they saw me in it or not. Looking back on it… I should not have been embarrassed to ride in that car… I should have been proud! You see, Dad drove that cheap vehicle so he could purchase the brand new car my mom was riding around in, the house we were remodeling, and pay for all the little leagues, dance classes, and Tommy Hilfiger clothes my brother and I were wearing. The biggest lesson of life I learned from this man: A real man will put the needs of his family before his own.

My brother was getting ready for his school’s 4th grade bike ride (the class takes a trip to some famous trail). There was one problem… Justin didn’t know how to ride a bike.

Me (being the older sibling that I am): You know the kids are going to make fun of you if you show up with training wheels.

Mom: Jessica, stop! I have training wheels on my bike and I don’t care what anyone has to say about it!

Me: That’s unacceptable…. and no offence very embarrassing since you’re old. You should want more for your son.

Justin: Jessica is right! I need to be riding a two wheeler!

Dad (laughing): How is it you got to the 4th grade and still have training wheels? (That’s the million dollar question)

Mom: Well, when did you teach Jessica how to ride a bike?

Dad: I never taught her….

Me: That’s right! I had my friend push me down a hill a few times in like 1st or 2nd grade… eventually I just took off! I’m self taught!

(My family ignores me when I start self promoting)

Justin: Dad, would you please teach me how to ride a bike real quick?

I looked over at Dad who CLEARLY did not want to spend his entire weekend doing this. But because he didn’t want his son to be the butt of all the jokes he loaded the bike in the trunk of the gold Cadillac.

Me: Oh I’ve got to see this! (Evil laughter)

Dad: You can come as long as you promise to leave the peanut gallery at home!

Me (puppy face): I just want to support my brother ….

Mom: You’re such a brat!!

With that we left the house and went to a neighboring elementary school that faced the major street in town.

Me: Don’t you want to teach him in the back of the school… there is an open lot and parking.

Dad: Why? Here is fine.

Me: I mean… we don’t want Justin’s friends to happen to pass by and seeing him learning to ride a bike!

What I REALLY wanted to say was: “You don’t want MY friends to pass by and see this ugly car AND my brother who is too old to just be learning to ride a bike!”

Dad agreed and drove around back.

Teaching Justin to ride was the longest day of life. He just was NOT getting it and Dad was trying to be patient… but I could tell it was wearing thin. This was no longer fun to snicker at. Fed up I went and sat in the car. An hour went by. I looked up and saw Justin riding down the hill! HE WAS DOING IT! Dad was jumping for joy and I began honking the car horn in jubilee!

Dad: BREAK JUSTIN! BREAK!

Me (scared) DAD HE’S NOT STOPPING! DO SOMETHING!

Justin: HELP! HELP!

To paint a visual Justin had on acid wash paints pulled over his stomach and a yellow tank top… something AC Slater from “Saved By The Bell” would have worn… minus the muscles and my purple helmet that is too big for him and is now covering his face! He is no longer on the cement, but on the grass heading straight for the side of the school building. Dad is chasing after him.

SPLAT! Justin flies of the bike and hits the brick wall and is pealing himself off like the Coyote on Loony Tunes after he runs into the side of a giant rock.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Justin gets up. He survived.

Justin: I’m okay! I’m Okay! Whoa, Man! That was crazy!

Dad is livid at this point because we’ve been at this for hours in 100 degree weather… and this dude STILL can’t ride a bike!

Dad: YOU FUCKING CRASH TEST DUMMY! SHIT! DID YOU REALLY JUST DO THAT? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?

My Dad had NEVER cursed in front of us… and NEVER called us names. So when he combined the two calling Justin a “fucking crash test dummy!” I thought Justin was just traumatized for life! This is one of my all time favorite quotes from Dad.

After the initial shock of getting cursed out for goofing around on the bike Justin got serious and learned. It was just what he needed to focus himself. Dad got just what he needed when we returned from Mom… a few choice words his damn self.

Flash forward to a few weeks ago. My boyfriend was supposed to come over at 7:30pm p.m. so we could get something to eat… talking too long at the barbershop he arrived at my apartment at 10pm. Anyone who knows me can tell you….if I am hungry or tired… I turn into an angry beast.

Me: I’ve not eaten all day. If you were going to come hours later you should have called and I would have gone to the corner store for a snack!

BF: Well let’s go get something now. (Guys are clueless)

We caught a cab.

Me: 125th and 5th ave please.

Mind you… we got picked up on 148th

At 140th the cab driver turns down a residential block where a big charter bus is stationed backing up traffic down the block.

Me: WHY DID YOU TURN HERE?

BF: ssshhh!

We sat in this unnecessary traffic for about 5 min.

Me: You can stay, I’m getting out. This is ridiculous!

Cabbie: I CAN’T HELP IF THE STREET IS BLOCKED!

Me: YES YOU CAN! Clearly you saw this before we made the turn… because I saw it! I don’t have time to sit here and wait for this to clear up. I’m getting out.

BF: Sir, how much do I owe you?

Cabbie: That will be $7!

Me: $7???? ARE YOU FOR REAL! You didn’t take us anywhere. It would have been 7 if we got to 125th street! I am not at my destination! In fact, you took us 8 blocks! Give him $3

With that I jumped out the cab but not before yelling to the driver: “YOU FUCKING DUMMY!”

With that I took of walking really fast down the street and the poor boyfriend looked extra embarrassed walking 10 ft behind me. He stops another cab.

BF: Come on, get in. You need to be fed AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!

Once in a booth at the restaurant I returned to my pleasant happy go lucky self.

BF: What was that?????

Me: That incident with that cab driver?….

BF: Umm yes

Me: My father

Beauty and The Lion King

2010-04-04T19:01:00.002-04:00

It finally happened. A few weeks ago an ex told me what I have been waiting 5 long years to hear.

Ex: “Jess, I was stupid. We were a good pair and I should have never let you go. I’m so sorry for the way I treated you. I was wrong. I fell hard for you then pushed you away. And honestly, you had so much going for yourself I didn’t want to hold you back. You were too good for me.”

I expected trumpets to sound, krump dancers to appear, skittles to rain from the sky, Tyler Perry to quote this in his next film, and perhaps Whitney Houston to ride by on a float belting “I’m Every Woman”. But I felt nothing. And as I thought of something profound to say back along the lines of “I RISE” or “It takes playing with rocks to learn to treasure a diamond” all I could say was… “It’s all good. I’m better because of it.” Wow. Talk about too little too late… I really did not care.

3 weeks ago I jumped back onto the dating scene after taking a brief leave of absence. Quite honestly it is exhausting dealing with weirdos.

I met Mufasa “out” a few weeks ago. (details on the exact way we met is an long story that I promise to share soon.) As an ex college basketball player he stands 6 foot seven, lean, nice smile, caramel… 10 years older than me…..

I have been putting in some overtime at work so every time he asked me out… I declined. Then one Sunday he called me up and said:

Mufasa “I don’t care what you have goin on… you are mine today!” (imagine this in a Bronx accent… it sounds cute in theory, but the way he said it… it came off more like a threat)

Me “Is it still raining?”

Mufasa “NO Beauty, now what do you want to do?”

Me “You’re asking me out… why do I have to come up with something to do?”

Mufasa “Okay, okay. Well, we can go play pool, grab a bite, you can help me wash my car….”

Me “I aint washing shit!” (was this dude serious? Yes… he was)

Mufasa “You really don’t want to help wash the ride?”

Me “How about you come up with a game plan… and then call me back once you have one.”

10 min later I got a text that read “I’m in Times Square near my job. Want to meet up around here? I’m on 45th and 8th”

Me “Perfect. Let’s meet at Latitude.”

I threw on a leather jacket, a hot pink scarf, jeans… and some flats. I don’t believe I even put makeup on. 2 signs that I already wasn’t into dude. On the subway I recalled Mufasa saying that he worked in education, but I couldn’t for the life of me think of a school in Times Square… something in the milk aint clean.

Once at Latitude I spotted Mufasa at the bar. He was grubbing on some mac n cheese and drinking a mojito.

Me “Really? Usually when a guy asks someone out… they wait so we can eat TOGETHER!” (this was strike one)

Mufasa (picks up his plate and moves over to a booth) “We have all night Beauty. I’ll eat again! Now order yourself something. Whatcha drinking?”

Everyone knows my signature drink is a sex on the beach, but when I’m out with guys for the first time I don’t order it. Something about the words “sex” and “beach” make for a night of inappropriate comments.

Me “Can I get a cosmo and an order of calamari please”

I then got a good look at Mufasa. This dude was dressed like he was fresh off the basketball court!

Me “May I ask why you have that sweat band around your head?”

Mufasa “It helps to keep my glasses on. See, when I take it off my glasses slide off my face.”

Me “Why don’t you just get your glasses fitted?”

Mufasa “You feisty Beauty!”

Me “Nah, you just look like Horace Grant right now… when you really don’t have to.”

Mufasa (cracking up) “JOKES! What do you know about Grant?”

We spent the next 10 min making small talk when I asked…

Me “So… where do you teach?”

Mufasa “Teach? I don’t teach…”

Me “Oh… well you said you worked in education I assumed you taught… do you coach?”

Mufasa “Nah…”
Me “Counselor……”

Mufasa (looking uncomfortable) “Nah…. I work for a musical.”

Me (confused… not “working in education”) “Oh… I love the theater… which musical?”

Mufasa “Name some….”

Me “You’re being really shady right now…..”

Mufasa “Just name some musicals and when you guess I’ll tell you.”

Me “Shrek, Mary Poppins, Fela, Hair, Phantom, Little Mermaid, Lion King…..”

Mufasa (extra excited) “A Kuna Ma Tata BABY! That’s me!”

Me (with the “WTF” face on) “So you work for the Lion King… I’ve seen that… you aren’t in it… you work production?”

Mufasa “It depends on the night….”

Me “I’m tired of this game…”

Mufasa “Well, some nights I hand out programs… other nights I seat people… sometimes I work the front…”

Me “You are an usher?”

Mufasa “Yes, I am an usher”

First let me say I’m not knocking anyone’s hustle. Own up to what you do! If you are an usher that does not mean you work for the show… you work for the theater the show happens to be playing at. And Mufasa is 35 years old! The reason I went out with a guy 10 years older than me is because I’m tired of feeling like I have to carry the other person. I’m not about to have the same issues with a 35 year old man that I do with guys my own age! I’ve made piece with the fact that I’m a lot to deal with… and I have to be honest… The Lion King… that just won’t cut it. (strike 2)

Mufasa then showed me a picture on his blackberry.

Mufasa “This is me back when I played ball”

Me “How long ago was that?”

Mufasa “About 12 years ago…..” (yea dude… it’s time to get over it)

All of a sudden this cute Latino guy comes to our table

Mufasa “Yo! Latin Sensation… What’s good Bruh!?” (he really called him Latin Sensation)

Latin Sensation “What’s good Son! My bad you on a date?”

Mufasa “Yea man, but sit for a sec. Beauty here is cool… she won’t mind”

I stuck my hand out to shake Latin Sensation and he kissed it. I tried really hard not to smile… he was kind of cute… okay more than kind of. He sat on the other side of me.

The three of us got to talking and laughing. I was glad Latin Sensation showed up. He was hysterical! Then we started talking about TV.

Latin Sensation “Do you watch that show called The Game?”

Me “OMG! That is my FAVORITE SHOW EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Latin Sensation “Man, I really want Jason and Kelly to get back together!”

Me “Me too, but I don’t know… Jason got with Stacy Dash… it’s going to be hard for her to get back in there…”

We talked about every show on TV. And then Mufasa says:

Mufasa “I don’t watch TV… If it’s not sports… I think it’ dumb.”

Latin Sensation (turns to me) “So where do you work miss lady?”

Me “I work for a Television Network”

Mufasa’s face hit the ground. All he knew was I worked in entertainment. Talk about putting your foot in your mouth!

Latin Sensation “Really?”

Me “Yea… got a degree in it and everything!”

Mufasa “Well since the two of you are having such a good time I’m going to leave you alone for a little bit” with that he got up and went to the bar.

Latin Sensation and I continued talking for about 15 min. He got up when Mufasa came back. Mufasa was a pussy cat for that move… how do you leave another man with someone your out with?

Latin Sensation “Yall going to be out much longer?”

Me “Nah, I have to get home to watch Kendra”

Latin Sensation “Girl, me too!”

Mufasa (extra salty)“Me too! I don’t know who Kendra is, but I’m going to watch her too!”

By this time I’m on my 5th cosmo.

Somehow Mufasa and I got into a conversation about what each other’s “type” is.

Mufasa “I don’t find a girl over 150 lbs attractive”

Me “Good to know. You don’t find me attractive…. Then why am I even here?”

Mufasa “You aren’t more than 150!”

Me “ummm… yes I am.”

Mufasa “Well, not more than 155 at least you don’t look it.”

Me “I’m well over 155. People carry weight differently. At 150 I was a size 4… and it was not a good look. I looked skeletal. That’s a messed up requirement to even have! Some people are just solid. You can’t put a number on it.” (strike 3)

Mufasa “Well….15 of that is in your booty and about 5 in those lips” (this dude needs to learn to SHUT UP!)

Me “Well, you are the type of guy who after their wife gives birth you would be calling her names and constantly telling her how unattractive she is post carrying your baby for 9 months!”

Mufasa “No, I would work out with her…”

Me “I’m over this. Kendra is about to come on. Thanks for the evening. I’m going to take a cab home.”

Mufasa “So what do you want to do on our next date?”

Me “You think there is going to be another one?”

There was only one way this dude could slightly redeem himself. After my dates I put them to a test. My chivalry test. I’ll make you go through a series of doors to see if you open them for me… see if you walk on the outside closest to the street. If I stop to get a pack of gum… do you buy it? I need to be around a man who has me. (yes, I know this is similar to the “chili” test in the movie Deliver us from Eva)

Once outside I spotted Chipotle.

Me “Hey, I don’t have any food at the house. I’m going to grab some chips and salsa for later.”

Once at the door of Chipotle I stopped.

Mufasa “Why aren’t you going in?”

Me “I don’t open doors when in the presence of a man” (my boy Adam taught me this)

Mufasa opened the door. At 35 him asking why I paused... shows me he’s not used to women of my caliber. I ordered my chips. The total was 2 dollars. I looked over at Mufasa who was looking to the sky. I reached in my bag and pulled out two crisp bills.

Back outside I haled my own cab… clearly he did not pass the test. I would never entertain him again.

Mufasa “So maybe the next time I can come scoop you up?”

In New York finding someone with a vehicle is like striking gold. Part of me just wanted to say yes… after all, a girl has been trying to get out to Wal-Mart for 2 years now!

Me “Have a good night.”

A few days later Mufasa called 10 min after I got the “You were the one I let go” call from the ex. The old me… would have led him on to think there was still a chance. But the grown me… had to keep it real. After all, eagles don’t soar among pigeons and diamonds are meant to be treasured.

So Sue Me!

2010-03-13T21:33:00.004-05:00

I’ve been dealing with roommates since the age of 18. TCU freshman year my roomie would leave her used maxi pads exposed on her bed… I changed roommates at semester. Sophomore year at U of Iowa one of my three roommates accused me of pulling a gun on her… I’ve yet to see this alleged firearm. Senior year of college one of my roommates returned from summer as a completely different person… I’ve not talked to her since the day we moved out. And my last roommate… she took me to court last week… I now live alone!

Lois moved into my apartment last August. I met her through a friend. I didn’t know too much about her, but she was better than getting a complete stranger off Craigs List. Lois didn’t have a fulltime job. Having been laid off once I was very understanding and collected rent and bills around the time I knew she would be getting her unemployment check. After living with her for about 3 weeks… I realized this arrangement was not working.

Living with Louis I felt like I was in a relationship.

“Can you take the trash out?” “Can you buy toilet paper?” “Can you straighten your shoes by the door?” “Can you move your flat iron?” “Can you call the super to change the light bulb?” “Can you fix the toilet?” “Can I give you the money for the cable next week?” “Speaking of cable, can we get HBO?”… all of this would be said within 2 min of me walking into MY apartment after working a 12 hour day! And the nerve to want to pay extra for HBO… when in that same sentence she asked if her portion of the bill could be late!

Things hit the fan when she sent me an email while I was work and attached a picture of 1 blue cup that was left in the sink. “Can you not leave dishes in the sink. I am tired of cleaning up after you.” I went SMOOTH off! Did she really feel the need to interrupt my day over 1 cup! You would think I cooked a spaghetti dinner and made some Rice Krispi Treats, leaving 20 crusty dishes in the sink!

Not to mention she was cheap. This girl had the nerve to take my Bath & Body Works shower gel to refill the dish soap dispenser! WHO DOES THAT? Take yourself to the corner store and buy some… it’s $1. I had to bring my own toilet paper into the bathroom for fear I would get a yeast infection from that 20 cent construction paper she was wiping with.

Lois would come home at 5am after a night out… every night… and be loud for no reason! Cooking, and banging on household items trying to “fix” them with a hammer. IT WAS TIME FOR HER TO GO!

I never put Lois on the lease… didn’t make her sign a sublease contract with me. She was on her honor month to month to pay her rent… and was free to leave anytime.

Christmas come early on Nov 2nd when I received an email where Lois stated she would be moving out Dec 1st and would give me rent and utilities for the month of December. She had already paid me for Nov rent. (keep this in mind as you continue reading)

December 1st finally came! Lois gave me a check for $800 and turned over the keys. I quickly locked the door behind her. “Free at last, Free at last!”

While out for my birthday on December 8th, I received a message from Lois on my Black Berry. “Happy Birthday Jessica! I hope you are having a good one! I just realized I gave you money for December rent. Since I did not live at your place during the month of December, I would like for you to write me a check for the amount of $800 this week. Sorry for the inconvenience. Have a great day!”

She done lost her mind!

1. That was not your typical “birthday” message. 2. She sent it on December 8th! Sorry boo, but rent is due on the 1st “wake up, wake up, wake up!”

I shot her back a quick response. “I don’t have your money. I used it on the rent. I don’t have $800 just sitting around. I will not be writing you a check.

We went back and forth for 2 days.

Early January I received a subpoena to report to small claims court. I was being sued for “failure to return a security deposit.” This was crazy...she never gave me a security deposit. I only charged her first months rent. I was furious!

Court day finally rolled around. Not only was I annoyed that I was there, but she took me to court in Harlem. Don’t get me wrong I LOVE my people… but a courthouse full of us and my Latin brothers and sisters… FOOLERY! And this wasn’t just any court… Lois took me to night court!

In small claims court you have the option for your case to be tried in front of a judge or a mediator. If you go in front of the mediator all decisions are final. If you pick the judge, you have the option to appeal the verdict. Being that Lois was suing me, she got to choose who we saw. She picked the judge.

There is no place to go while you wait to see the judge… so everyone stays in the courtroom while trials are going on. I couldn’t believe that half of Harlem was about to see my act as my own attorney. After 4.5 hours of hearing about domestic disputes, food poisoning at restaurants, and slumlords… the bailiff called me and Lois outside.

Bailiff “The judge won’t be able to hear your case tonight. You will have to come back”

Me “Are you serious… I’ve been here since 5:30! It is now 10pm!”

Bailiff “We are open every Thursday. You two must agree on a day to come back.”

Lois “I can come back in 2 weeks”

Me (throwing on my snobby voice) “Well, I can’t come until next month.” (Honestly, I was not letting her pick the date… she was the one wasting my time… after all… I am the one with the job and I’m not letting anyone run me.)

March 5th I met Lois for round two. This time we went to trial.

The judge asked Lois to state her side of the case. I felt really bad. Since the last time we were in court… her mother had passed away. She could barely articulate her points and had a “moral support” person whispering in her ear what to say.

Lois “Your honor I lived with Jessica from August 2009-December 1st. I forgot that I wrote her a check for August rent. I only intended on paying for the months that I stayed. It was an oversight on my behalf. When I realized what I had done, I asked her for December rent back and she would not give it to me. This is why we are here.”

Judge “So you paid August, September, October, November, and December. Totaling 5 months of rent…. But you only lived there for 4 months? Why did you pay December if you did not live there?

Louis “I was in a rush and didn’t realize what I was doing. I was rushing to be with my sick mother who recently passed so I just wrote the rent check out of habit.”

Judge “Ms. Wilson. Do you have anything to say to that?”

Me “Yes, your honor.” (I was about to get my Gabrielle Union in “Daddy’s Little Girls” on) Lois claims that she left my residence in a rush and wrote a check out of habit? I have an email from her dated Nov 2nd where she informed me that she would be leaving December 1st and would give me rent and utilities for that month.”

Judge “This was after she paid you November rent?”

Me “Correct your honor. This is after she paid November rent”

Judge “Was she on your lease?”

Me “No, she was not on the lease. I am the only person on the lease. I had a roommate move out in August and I decided to stay and took over the lease. This is when Lois moved in. She was on an honor system to pay rent each month which she did. I only charged her rent and half of the utilities… which are cable/internet and electric. I never asked for a security deposit which is what she is suing me for.”

Lois “That is the best way to put it….”

Me “She premeditated writing that check your honor. I would like to submit her email as evidence. How does one put in writing a month prior that they are going to do something? She paid me. Then asked for the money back claiming that it was an accident. She knew she paid me in August… how else would rent have gotten paid? This was not an oversight.

Judge “Do you recognize this email Ms. Wilson is holding?”

Lois “Yes, I have a copy of it right here.”

Judge “Ms. Wilson, please read the email out loud. Will the court note this is as evidence A.”

Me “Gladly! This is dated Nov 2nd 2009. “Hi Jessica. This is notice that I will be moving out Dec. 1st and will give you December rent and utilities for December prior to moving out. Thank you”

Judge “Why did you not move out before December 1st?”

Lois “My new place was not ready until the 1st”

It was interesting the judge asked that. In doing my research for court I read that if you stay for even one day of the next month… you owe for that entire month.

Judge “So, you want December rent refunded to you…. even though you wrote that you would pay it?”

Lois “It was a mistake.”

Me (getting a little crunk) “And why should I pay for your mistake? Your honor, as a grown woman it is my responsibility to keep track of my bank account. I have the check I wrote to the landlord on December 2nd that has the same date marked on the deposit slip. The money was used on the rent.”

Judge (looks at Lois) “Do you have anything else to say?”

Lois “I have a written statement from my current roommate say that I did move in with her on December 1st”

(What that had to do with anything… who knows. We both agreed she move out on the 1st)

Judge “Ms. Wilson, do you have anymore questions for Ms. Counts?”

Me “No…not other than why am I here” (I had to get one smart comment in)

The judge asked Lois a few more questions and then turned to both of us and said:

Judge “You will receive my verdict in the mail”

WHAT??????? When has Mathis, Judy, or Joe Brown ever said that on TV?

I thanked the judge and turned to Lois. I wanted to say something about her mother… this was one of the first times in my life I didn’t know what to say. She wouldn’t look at me. I walked out.

A week later I received my verdict in the mail. There was no explanation. All it said was: “Judgment in favor of Defendant, dismissing claim. No monetary award.”

Where is Black Barbie?

2010-02-28T20:22:00.006-05:00

(The above was taken with my BB around 4:30pm today)

A couple weeks ago worldstarhiphop.com posted a segment of The Tyra Show called “I hate my face”. Tyra spoke with 9-year-old girls and their mothers about body image and how it affects self-esteem. The prettiest little brown girl was center stage. What she said probably should have shocked me. Unfortunately it didn’t.

Tyra had the little girl circle what she hated about her face. The little girl drew around her nose and lips, but what she focused on was her skin saying that it was too dark. She said she preferred to play with white dolls because they were prettier than the black ones. She said a little black boy in her class told her she would be prettier if she was light skinned with lighter eyes like one of her classmates. It was apparent this little girl wished she were white. My eyes focused in on her mother. She sat there crying… feeling hopeless and telling Tyra as a mother she doesn’t know what to do. “I tell her everyday that she is beautiful. I never thought that my child would be going through what I went through all these years later.”

A day later I went to a friend’s house party where a young gentleman sat beside me. We had a brief conversation and then he said this:

Guy “You’re pretty. What nationality are you?”

Thrown off by the question I responded proudly “I’m black”

Guy “I see that… I mean where are you from?”

Me “America. That would make me African American.”

Guy (sounding disappointed) “Oh, well… I thought you were Dominican.”

With that he got up and walked away. Did that REALLY just happen? When did it become uncool to be an African American girl?

I’m sure by now everyone has seen the ABC segment on 42% of black women will never marry. I’m sure by now we’ve all read or have seen Steve Harvey on the talk show circuit in all his clown suit glory… shoving his “how to get a black man” book down our throats. I’m sure by now the media has worked its way in to the mind of the black woman telling you that all your men are in jail, not parenting, and are with the white woman.

Being from the #2 state of interracial marriages (Iowa, Minnesota is #1 according to an article I read in EBONY a few years ago) I’m used to seeing mixed couples. Since moving away I don’t see it as often. In Iowa most of my black male friends date white women, but in NY ALL of my black male friends date black women. All of these are good guys who are college educated with promising careers and many of whom attend church on regular bases. I have to give credit where it is due. It is important to know that there are good black men out there… who want to be in relationships with black women. Don’t believe the hype that there are not.

Last night I hopped a train to Jersey to attend the party of an old friend. The party was packed and pretty well mixed. I couldn’t help but notice the herds of white women going after the black men. They were on a mission! What quickly happened was most of the black men were entertaining the white girls…. leaving the black girls to entertain ourselves. Mission accomplished!

Even though I was slightly perturbed about the situation I swept it under the rug. After all, you can’t always be the most popular.

Around 4:30pm today I returned to NY and ran in Kmart. As I was passing the toy isle I stopped cold in my tracks. There in the Barbie section was a Blonde Barbie shelved right next to the Black Ken. I walked over and began looking at the dolls behind them to see if perhaps the two in front were placed side by side… by mistake? No. The Blonde Barbie and Black Ken were purposely placed next to each other. I quickly searched the section for Black Barbie. Perhaps she was shelved next to some fine Italian Ken. No. She wasn’t even on the shelf. I rang the buzzer for retail assistance.

Me “Excuse me… is the brown skinned Barbie doll sold out?” (that is the only acceptable reason as to why she was not on the shelf)

Associate “I don’t believe so. They must not make one in this surfing collection.”

Me “Why? Contrary to popular belief… black girls swim.”

Associate “Ummmmm”

By this time a young black mother and a Hispanic mother were in the isle with their little girls.

Me “All I’m saying is there is Blonde Barbie, Brunette Barbie, the one over here appears to be Spanish Barbie, and here we have Black Ken… but his counterpart seems to be missing. I understand you have nothing to do with this, but I just don’t see myself. Where is my doll?

By this time the two mothers are behind me cosigning.

Associate “See yourself?”

Me “I’m tired of being ignored and being made to feel that no one wants Black Barbie! Where is she? I want to buy her… in the surfing collection!”

At this point my frustration of the Black Ken being next to Blonde Barbie grew to the fact that he didn’t even have Black Barbie as an option. I had been taken out of the equation. I suddenly became my inner 9- year-old. The one who was teased for having big lips and a big butt. Who was told that she would never be on TV because there was only room for one dark skinned woman and Oprah had that on lock. Who sat in all white classrooms and felt like she wasn’t as pretty as her classmates. Then my 25-year-old-self kicked in and remembered what it was like to be ignored at that party last night. Whose seeing Kim Kardashian being praised for her backside when all my homegirls have bigger ones. Whose being fed all of these statistics that she’d have better luck if she dated outside of her race. The one who just saw a brown skinned girl tell Tyra “I hate my face”.

Me “I just want little black girls to see how beautiful Black Barbie is and have the option to play with her. And I just want Black Ken to stand proudly at her side. If I was walking down this isle with my kids… that is the image I would want them to see.”

That poor associate slowly walked away. Being blonde she would never know how I felt in that moment. She will never know what it’s like to be a 25-year-old black professional woman at the bottom of the food chain. Because she is a 25-year-old Kmart employee at the top of it.

At this point the black mother gave me a hug.

Mother “Do you have a little girl?”

Me “No, but I know what it’s like to be one.”

Mother “You will make an excellent mom one day”

Fighting back tears I gave her a wink and got back on the subway. I starting crying around 72nd street. By the time we’d reached 135th the tears were flowing hard, but not for sadness. I just want little girls everywhere not to judge themselves off the photo shopped images, that rude little boy in class, or by what they do or do not have.

I love being a black woman. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in this world.

My Style
My Swag
My Walk
My Talk
My Courage
My Strength
My Witt
My Pride
My Laugh
My Love

My Resourcefulness… this is all effortless.

I deserve to be on the shelf for everyone to see and despite what the media has you thinking is beautiful… I know there’s a black Ken doll for me.

"Can I Screw Your Nut?"

2010-01-03T20:00:00.001-05:00

Back in October my dear friend Shaena’s boyfriend hit me up on Facebook. They are in a semi long distance relationship (he lives upstate) and he wanted to throw her a surprise birthday party in NYC. I love the girl to death so I was game for whatever he wanted me to do.

After weeks of planning the big day had arrived. Shaena’s bf had the place all laid out! VIP at a posh downtown night club, Grey Goose was flowing, red velvet cupcakes were….velvety, shrimps (yes shrimps) were jumbo, and all of Shaena’s closest friends were in attendance. There was just one thing…no guys. I guess that’s what happens when you get in a serious relationship… friends of the opposite sex seem to disappear.

As I was conversing with a friend…a tapped me on the shoulder.

Woman: I could not help but notice all the pretty girls in this area. I am having a singles event downstairs and we have a rather large group of guys and no ladies… would you and your friends like to come?

OMG. My prayers had been answered! It’s not everyday 30 eligible, educated, employed, black, bachelors are just sitting around waiting to mingle. I didn’t want to appear thirsty, but I had to dip my cup in that! Most of the other girls were either in relationships or were too shy to go downstairs, but me and my wing woman put on our baddest walks and went to strut downstairs!! “HOW YOUUUU DOIN?”

Once there the event coordinator told us we would be playing a game.

Coordinator : I have a bag of bolts and a bag screws. Ladies, you will pick a screw out of this bag, gents, you will pick a bolt out of this one. (she began passing the bags) . Okay, now ladies… you are going to go up to each guy and say “Can I screw you nut?” After you say this, you will see if the bolt and screws match and that will be your partner for a small date.

Me (to my wing woman): Did she just say we have to walk up to these guys and say “Can I screw your nut?????????”

Wing Woman: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA She Sure Did!

Me: (shaking my head): This is soooo inappropriate!

All of a sudden I got really shy. These were some good looking guys… I didn’t want to say that! After all, I’m a Fuc&%$* lady!

My wing woman had met the love her life earlier in the year… it’s changed the dynamic of our pimping...But hey, more for me! I went to the first guy.

Me: So umm…. Can I screw your nut?
Guy 1: I need you to screw me!!! (this game was going to be interesting…)

Our bolt and screw did not match. I went to the next guy.

Me: Can I screw your nut?

Guy 2: We can do whatever you like!

We were not a match.

I looked over at my wing woman whose screw was fitting EVERYONE’s bolt!

Me: ARE YOU SERIOUS! You have 5 matches…. I don’t even have one! AND you have a man! YOU ARE A LOOSE SCREW! JUST LOOSE!

Wing woman: (cracking up) I don’t know why… I guess I’m just a perfect fit for everyone!

Me: Not fair! I CAN’T GET A NUT!

Wing woman (realizing I was taking this personally): Jess, you have a lot going for yourself… trust me… plenty of guys want to screw you!

I know you’re not supposed to hate the player… so I was definitely hating on this game! After several attempts my screw was not fitting anyone. Several guys tried to make it work, but when their true match came along they were ripped away from me and forced on their minnie date. At the end of the game… I stood alone.

Me: This is some BS!

Wing Woman (cracking up): It’s just a game!

Me: Well it mirrors my real life! Not even when the odds are in my favor do I have a man!

That’s when I got a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see a tall, dark, built, guy with an awesome smile standing before me.

Eddie: My name’s Eddie, I know my nut didn’t fit but….

Me (cracking up): what an awkward intro!

We talked for a quick min. The Cavs game was on so our convo was mostly about Lebron. I found out Eddie was a producer/actor (like everyone in NY). That’s when I noticed he was wearing a Phat Farm sweater….EWW. I realized… I was doing it again. I need to stop picking brothers apart… one of the reasons 42% of black woman are not married. The other reason being the white woman… LOL (just playing… but not really).

He was cute… and seemed smart. I gave the signal to my wing woman and she worked on his friend and invited them back to Shaena’s birthday party. While the wing woman did her thing I fled the scene… after all… have to make them want more.
15 min later Eddie came up to VIP.

Eddie: So what are you doing tomorrow?

Me: working

Eddie: Not going to the Yankee World Series Win Parade?

Me: Yea… I’m going…. (I really wasn’t but if that was going to ensure a call the next day… I could act like I was going)

As Eddie and I were conversing Shaena’s boyfriend came over and started talking to me. THIS WAS NOT HAPPENING!

I shot the BF an evil look!

BF: My bad, I didn’t mean to block!

Me: See! You have a girl! Why does everyone do this to me!

Shaena’s boyfriend started laughing and made his exit stage right.

Me: Sorry about that, what were you saying?

Eddie: Do you have a card? I’ll give you a call in the morning. If you want to come, we are about to hit up another spot tonight….

I gave Eddie my card, but declined to go to the next spot… I aint no holla back girl.

The next day Eddie hit me up asking where I was in the parade line… geeze… I had lied already… this was an end to something before it even started! We talked 2 or 3 times… and that was it. Oh wells.

So in 2010 I want to fall madly in-like… I won’t say “love” because I would never want to rush that. Now, I know what you all are thinking… I can’t control when or if that happens. Well…. why can’t I?

My entire life I’ve achieved whatever goal I have set for myself. Wanted to be Student Body President… did it. I wanted to work in magazines… I’ve worked for 3. I wanted to be a published writer… done. I wanted to do PR for a major TV network… currently do. Told myself I wanted to build a closer relationship with Christ and my fellow man (friends) I strongly believe this has happened too.

I’ve never been the “I need a man” type and I’m not saying that I have started now. But, I am at a stage in my life where I am open to the possibility of finding something real and it all starts with being in like.

So now you’re probably wondering if I have any prospects. I don’t kiss and tell, but I will say something like a prototype took me to PF Changs back in November and he’s been on my mind ever since. MUAH ;-) We’ll see what 2010 brings.

Happy New Year Everyone!

Got Me a BALLA!

2009-12-31T02:24:00.004-05:00

In 6th grade Mrs. Albee made us write a letter addressed to our future self. In this letter we had to jot down our dreams and aspirations. Senior year of high school my fellow elementary peers and I were invited back for a reunion and handed our letters. I wrote that I wanted to be a big time entertainment journalist or lawyer married to a NBA or NFL player, live in a mansion, have 3 kids, and drive…. a Jeep Cherokee. Clearly I was not up on my car game!

Let’s fast forward to 2007. I had just graduated college with a major in Mass Communications minor in Journalism. One day while sitting at my desk at Ebony Magazine in Chicago my phone rang. It was my friend Jenn.

Jenn: What are you doing tonight? Want to double date?

Me: I don’t do blind dates…. Why can’t you go alone?

Jenn: I figured you would say that…but it’s with these pro ball players I met the other night.

Me: Clearly I strike as a jersey chaser….

Jenn: NO! I just need someone fly for the other person

Me: Well you called the flyest… can I get some more info?

Jenn: They are good people… that’s really all I have to say. Meet me at my apartment after work.

Me: I took the train in today and don’t have clothes with me….

Jenn: YOU WORK ON MICHIGAN AVE! BUY SOMETHING!!!

Me: I’m mad you really getting loud right now! Fine. Can I at least ask what sport…..

Jenn: basketball

That meant one thing… Chicago Bulls. I took a 2 hour lunch break and went to Macy’s for a dress, Bakers for some shoes, and TJ Maxx for jewelry and a bag. This was costing me…. but who knows, this could be my potential soul mate! BAAALLLIIIN!

That night, Jenn and I got geared up trophy wife style. Around 8pm the door bell rang. At the door stood two very tall people dressed to the nine. I started from the bottom up. Fresh Tims, fitted jeans, grey cashmere sweater and…… BOOBS! I quickly pulled Jenn aside.

Me: WE ARE GOING OUT WITH FEMALES!!!!!!! I THOUGHT YOU SAID THESE WERE BALL PLAYERS!!!!!

Jenn: They are…… WNBA….Before you get mad at me you DO know that I am bi….

Me: Yes, BUT I AM NOT! HOW COULD YOU! You don’t have any gay friends?

Jenn: Well…I figured it would be fun. And I really like her but was too shy to go out alone.

You have no idea how heated I was. I just dropped mad dough on an outfit to wear for another chick. I was bamboozled!

Jenn: Jess, please don’t be mad at me and you have to come. You look judgmental if you don’t!

Me: I think the term you want to use is misinformed! YOU PIMPED ME OUT TO A GIRL!

Jenn: Stop it! You are soooo dramatic. Take one for the team!

Clearly Jenn wanted me to play for the other team. I went to the bathroom to cool off for a sec and gather my thoughts. I’m all for “doing what you do”. I love gay people, bi people, straight people, Black, White, Hispanic, Asian… it’s all good and I’ve always pride myself off of being able to get along with people on all different levels, backgrounds…and whatever else. It’s not this WNBA player’s fault that Jenn was an ass… and I had to be nice.

At dinner Jenn was sitting across from me and (I’ll call her Alexis). She was extra booed up having a gay ole time! I was forced to make conversation.

Alexis: So, where you from?

Me: Iowa… and yes we have black people. (kind of snarky)

Alexis: I see you get asked that a lot…. You ever play ball?

Me: 1st thru 11th grade… then I quit and became a cheerleader.

Alexis: WOW! How does that work?

Me: My best friend talked me into trying out with her… and she didn’t make the squad. I don’t like to quit so I just stuck it out for a year.

Alexis: So you’re a writer….

Me: Something like that (I was getting annoyed with the questions… I was just really uncomfortable and wanted to go home.)

Alexis: So what’s your deal cutie? (begins to rub my leg… AHHHHHH I was being fondled!)

Me: (moving leg out of the way) What do you mean?

Alexis: I don’t know you just seem….

Me: Hungry. I’m really hungry and don’t like to talk while I eat…. I suck at multitasking.

Alexis: We can work on that!

Did she just say “WE”? It freaks me out when guys do that…. it was time to go.

Me: So Jenn, I’m really tired. Are we leaving soon?

Jenn’s Date: Tired?!? GURL, we just getting started. We are taking yall to a party at the W HOTEL!

I don’t know who these ladies mistook me for…. But I was not going to anyone’s HO-TEL!

Me: I’m afraid I can’t do that…. Don’t let the dress fool you…. I go to church on the regular…. I’m a church girl. Been all my life. Very Plane Jane actually…. Prude. No fun at all…..

Jenn: (cracking up) RELAX “Church Girl” it will be fun!

It is not in my nature to be a follower… but I had no ride. Jenn and I were “supposed” to be cool. I would not leave her with two dudes… and these girls were big like dudes….. so I stayed.

The check came and the ballers reached out to pay.

Me: Actually, I’ll be paying for my own meal. I handed the waiter my card.

Jenn: Why?

Me: Because we are just friends hanging out.

After dinner I climbed back into the Hummer. Once in the car Jenn’s chick turned on the radio and began to sing along “FEEEEELS LIKE YOU’RE REAAADDDYYYYY” …. I hate that damn R. Kelly. Alexis tried to sing that ish in my ear. I shot that down real quick.

The W downtown Chicago is my spot! Best rooftop parties EVER! Only this time… the party was a little different.

Me: Really Jenn? There is not a dude in here. I’m leaving!

Jenn: Why?

Me: BECAUSE I LIKE DUDES JENN!

Jenn: But we are having fun!

Me: No, you’re having fun… I’m miserable. You aint right, YOU AINT RIGHT! You know I have no problem with bi or gay. (I felt like a white person saying this "I'm not racist... I have black friends!")Hell, I go to the gay club! But it is just wrong for you to set me up on a date knowing that I am straight! That’s not right for me…. or her!

With that I went downstairs to make a call. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone this situation… even my best friends don’t know about this until now. There was only one person I could have save me…. my boy Adam. Thing is… he’s a male whore… hopefully he was taking the night off.

Adam: Hello?

Me: Hey!

Adam: What’s good baby girl?

Me: I need your help….

Adam: What’s wrong?

Me: I need you to pick me up and take me home…

Adam: Where you at?

Me: (sheepishly) The W Hotel Downtown…

Adam: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING AT A HOTEL??!!!???!!!??? You don’t even strike me as the type!

Adam and I met the summer before when I was interning at NBC and he was at Judge Mathis. We hung out a lot but never dated nor did he conquer “the goodies”. When you meet a guy that thinks he has a chance at it… keep him around…. he’ll do anything for you.

Me: Are you going to come get me or not? I’ll tell you the situation when I see you. PU-LEEEEAAASSSEEEE!

Adam: I love it when you beg for it!

Me: You are soooo immature.

Adam: I lent my brother my whip. You can take a cab here. Spend the night and I’ll take you out to that random suburb you live in in the morning.

Me: I’m not slee….

Adam: WOMAN I KNOW! You can have my bed and I’ll take the couch.

Me: Promise to change your sheets? (Who knows what goes down in that bed)

Adam: Do you want my help or not?

Me: Yes, Thank you!

Adam: One condition… you call me King for the rest of the night. Yea… KING… that sounds real nice!

Me: I won’t

Adam: Or daddy your choice.

Me: Whatever. One problem. A cab ride to your place would be about 25-30 bucks… I don’t have any cash on me (actually… I really did just didn’t want to spend it…. Okkkaaayyyy!)

Adam: I don’t know what to tell you!

Me: C’mon! I’m in a hotel in a messed up situation and need some help!

Adam: Fine. I’ll pay the driver once you get here.

30 min later I arrived at Adam’s. He was sitting outside. As I stepped out the car…

Adam: You have some explaining! Why were you at a HOTEL in your FREAKUM DRESS????!!!!????!!!!??? FAST ASS!

Once inside I told Adam the entire story. When I got to the R Kelly “FEELS LIKE YOUR READAYYYY” part, this dude was on the floor!

Adam: “OH SHIT I CAN’T BREATH!”

Me: Ha-ha-ha! Just get it ALL out ADAM!

Adam: That would be KING Adam to you. Jess, that girl played the SHIT out of you!

Me: I know!

Adam: did you and Alexis exchange numbers… cause we need to get this party poppin in here tonight!

I was getting tired of his jokes. For the next 30 min I was a prisoner to every lesbian joke in the book.

Adam: Seriously. Question.

Me: What’s up?

Adam: IF you were gay… would you go for more of the Queen Lateefa chick… or like the Gabrielle Union kind.

Me: I’m done with you!

Adam: I think Queen La… you like big guys. I tell you Jess, the craziest stuff happens to you and I just don’t get it. I mean…. You’re wifey!

Me: Huh?

Adam: You heard me. Like when I’m ready to settle at around 25,26,27… I’ma wife you up.

Me: You’ll still be whorin.

Adam: Girl, sewing my oats, sewing my oats.

Me: I’m going to bed. Thanks again homie!

Adam: You just use me and abuse me. But one thing. You’ve been going to quite a bit of those “baller” parties. This was God telling you to cut that mess out!

Me: NO I HAVE NOT!

Adam: Weren’t you at the D Wade and Shaq party a few weeks ago over on the North side? If I recall…. You were on stage doing the Soulja Boy with Shaq!!!

Me: First of all, you were at that party too… and it was not just me doing the Soulja Boy with Shaq. TONS of other people were on stage too.

Adam: But yo ass was right next to him…. Just making it Yuuuuulllleeee

Me: (laughing) You right. I have been going out a lot. But hey, I’m 22! You’re only young once!

Adam: I aint mad at you! Do you! Just know that in a few years you gonna slow that down! Dinner needs to be on the table by 6!

Me: Keep dreaming.

That night Adam and I played video games until the wee hours of the morn. We eventually passed out on the floor… on opposite sides of the room.

As for Jenn we no longer talk… and she is no longer bi-sexual. As for me…. I’ve cut out the jersey chasing ways and have focused on men with qualities that really matter in life. As for Adam… like clock work he called me on my 25th birthday.

Junkie Scratching

2009-07-11T21:51:00.002-04:00

I promise you. The Good Lord places me in the strangest situations because he wants me to make a movie. What I am about to write… You won’t believe happened, BUT IT IS TRUE. Prepare yourself for the FOOLERY!

About 4pm Wednesday I started itching really bad around my stomach. The itching crept up to my neck and down my back. By the time I left work I was scratching like Dave C. doing his “Just sprinkle some crack” sketch.

That was the longest subway ride of my life. Everyone on the 3 train looked at me in a puzzling way like “she looks to put together to be a junkie????”

By the time I hit my apartment door my clothes were already half off. I could not take it! I quickly jumped in the shower. I was feeling relieved. This lasted only about 1 min. As soon as I dried off the itching struck back! I heard my roommate put the key in the door and I yelled to her.

Me “I can’t stop itching”

Roommate “What happened!”

Me “I don’t know, I’m itching all over!”

Roommate “Are you hot?”

Me “No, I’m itchy”

It was only 3 weeks ago when I got taken from work in an ambulance and my roommate and a co-worker sat in Roosevelt hospital with me for half the day… so I knew roommate was not in the mood to fool around with me this evening (that’s another blog). I called my friend Richelle who lives in Motown.

Richelle “What’s up?”

Me “I have the heebee gee bees!”

Richelle “What!”

Me “I can’t stop itching. I took a shower, I rubbed cream all over my body, popped two Benadryl and now I am sitting in front of the fan.”

Richelle “Try rubbing ice on your body to sooth it. What did you eat today?”

Me “Chicken noodle soup…”

Richelle “With a soda on the side?”

Me “No, I don’t drink pop. Ummm Cool Ranch Doritos, 4 pieces of salt water taffy, the orange peanut butter crackers, and 2 bowls of Special K. Nothing out of the usual.”

That’s when I went to the bathroom to get more cream… when I looked in the mirror…I saw I was breaking out on my face.

Me “OMG I’m breaking out!”

Richelle “you are having a reaction to something!”

My roommate came in to confirm that I was breaking out. I wasn’t going crazy. I then lifted the beater I was wearing to find that I was breaking out all over my chest. Lumpy breasts are NEVER A GOOD LOOK!

Me “Richelle, I got to go. I’m going to the hospital!”

I grabbed my insurance card and my wallet and ran outside to catch a cab.

Me to the cab driver “Get me to the emergency room FAST!”

There are no yellow cabs in the area I live… just hustle- man cab drivers that use their personal cars for cabs. When I arrived at the hospital this man charged me 12 bucks.

Me “we are on 168th …. You picked me up from 148th! This is not a 12 dolla ride!”

Cab Driver “It’s 6 dollars per 10 blocks.”

Me “Whatever Son. Just give me my change!” (by this time I’ve scratched parts of my body raw and am in pain)

On the way inside I caught my reflection in the door. I resembled Will Smith after he ate that shell fish in the movie “Hitch”.

You have never witnessed ghetto until you take a trip to a hospital in Harlem. HOTT MESS. The waiting room was flooded with Blacks, Puerto Ricans, Haitians…. and the police. It was about 30 degrees in the waiting room. Everyone (included the nurses) were rockin hospital blankets trying to keep warm. The line to get checked in was long and people were complaining.

Man “I’ve been here for 4 Motha F&*ckn Hours! When am I going to see a GOT DAMNED DOCTOR!”

Woman “This Hospital is a piece of Shit! Yall don’t give a damn about NOBODY”

(50 more people joined in. There was a lot of neck rollin and finger snapping going on)

I don’t think I’ve seen such an angry mob in my life. I was feeling so miserable I knew I had to think smart and fast so that I could see a Dr. right away! I turned on my white girl swag.

Me (EXTRA POLITE) “Excuse me sir. How long will it be until I am able to see a doctor? I am having an allegoric reaction and need urgent care. I have insurance!”

(by the looks of the people in the waiting room… I knew they did not have insurance.)

Dude Nurse “You have insurance? Well, come on back. I can see in your face that you are having an allergic reaction.”

PRAISE THE LORD I DID NOT HAVE TO SIT IN THE FREEZING COLD WAITING ROOM WITH THE MOB!

I have never seen a hospital set up like this. No one had a personal room. It was set up like the armory in the military movies where beds are lined up side by side. I was led into a room that was already being occupied by 2 older black gentlemen who were taking some sort of asthma treatment which looked like they were smoking on weed. I sat in a corner. One looked like he worked construction; the other was dressed like an old school Harlem pimp.

Pimp “What’s with all the scratching mamma, you on that stuff?”

(I was kind of scared. I didn’t answer)

Construction “Don’t worry. We won’t hurt you. This is asthma treatment, we aint smoking nothing illegal in here. What’s the matter, your man give you something you can’t get rid of?”

Me “No, If you must know, I am having an allegoric reaction!”

Construction “Well, you’ve come to the wrong place. I’ve been coming to this damned hospital for 36 years and they will have you sitting there all night. They don’t care about you here. The time is now 9:30pm and I’ve been here since 5 and I still have not received the pills they are supposed to give me after an attack.”

Pimp “I just come up here to get my treatment. They take so long I go in the backs and takes me a shower.”

By this time a hood rat chick (Kool-Aid red hair, arm tats, Baby Phat…. You get the point) gets wheeled into our room. Blood flowing down her leg like a river.

Pimp “DAMN! What the F*&K happened to you??!!!!”

Rat “Mane, (code for “Man”). This bitch stabbed me 2 days ago. Twice in my back and once in my knee.”

Pimp “Where were you?”

Rat “Walking into my apartment over on 129th. All this blood is coming through the stitches!”

I turned to look the other direction. This ish right here was NASTY!

Pimp “That’s nothing. Harlem in the 80’s… I’ve been shot UP!, stabbed UP!, and locked UP!”

That’s when the nurse came in

Nurse (to the Rat in the wheelchair) “I’m going to need that wheelchair. We are short and you are not of high priority.”

Me, Pimp, and Construction “DAAAAAAAAMMMNNNN”

Construction “They is cold blooded in this hospital!”

Me (trying not to laugh) “How are they just going to come and take your wheelchair like that?”

Rat had to prop her bloody self up in a folding chair. I had enough. I walked up to the check in/ nurse station and found a dude in a white coat and began telling him my symptoms. He did not know my name, have my chart, nothing! But I could not wait around on this foolishness any longer!

DR (after going through the list of what I ate and what soaps I use) “Well, since it not any of that, sometimes these things can be caused by stress. Are you stressed.”

Me “a little bit.”

DR “I’m going to have the nurse come give you a shot that is going to stop the itching and make the swelling in your face go away. Then you will get two pills. I need you to stay around for a while so we can monitor you.”

I went back to the room. And the nurse came in with the shot.

Rat “DAMN, that’s a big needle”

I looked the other way as the nurse pierced into my shoulder.

Construction “At least someone getting some Motha F*&^ck service in here. Wish I had a reaction so I could get some service!”

(real talk, the nurses were at their stations on myspace)

I was sitting in the folding chair fighting going to sleep…. For fear that I would get gang raped in the hospital.

That’s when this crazy looking Aunt Jemima looking woman stumbled into the room and sat down moaning and groaning. We all just starred at her.

Pimp “Hell, I might as well go take this shower and charge my phone.” (he then pulls out the 1995 Nokia phone… remember the phone where you could change the face plates?)

Me “Okay, later.” (I mean… like I cared)

Next thing I know the police come chasing a bum around the hospital who had just wondered in off the streets.

Next a Puerto Rican woman (who I shall call Taxi) with a crooked face enters our room.

Construction “What’s wrong with your face? O’le scratchy (talking about me) and her reaction looks better than you.”

Taxi “I was on my way to the corner store and got hit by a cab.”

That’s when the nurse came in to talk to Aunt Jemima… but she was not speaking back.

Taxi “She doesn’t speak English”

Nurse “Well, I don’t speak Spanish….”

Taxi “I’ll translate”

OMG! The woman who got hit by a cab, is now translating for the nurse. WOW. Pimp enters the room.

Pimp “I’m just in time. Looks like the hospital is serving dinner.”

I turned to see the nurses passing out HAM AND CHEESE sandwiches. Now, I am no Dr, BUT……. Why would you serve ham (pork… that is not good for you) to a bunch of sick people in the hospital?

Pimp (to me) “Mamma, you aint gonna eat that?”

Me “Naw mack daddy, I’m good.”

Rat “WOULD SOMEONE FUCKIN COME CLEAN MY BLOOD UP OFF THE FLOOR! I DON’T CARE BOUT NO GOT DAMN SANDWICH! I pray to God something is severely wrong so I can sue the shit out of this place!

Pimp then goes to the corner… and begins rollin a blunt.

Pimp “I see reffa is goin to have to be my medication…. since they aint prescribing non up in here….”

Was this dude really rollin in the hospital???????????

We sat in silence for about 10 min.

Pimp “Well, my lady should be getting off in about 20 min. Let me go round this corner and meet her at the 1 train real quick so she can make this 400 off me.”

Rat “Make $400 dollas off you????”

Pimp “yea, you see…. Panties drop, I throws the money up in the air… and whatever hits the ground she can keep!”

Me “I’m done”

By this time the nurse walks in and looks at Pimp as he is packing up his belongings.

Nurse “Are you a patient?”

Pimp “That is my cue to leave good people.” With that, Pimp exited stage right and was gone. (wow, pimp wasn’t even a patient. Just liked the hospital drama.)

Construction (yelling) “36 years of this damn hospital and yall never change!” (by this time he was coughing badly …still, no Doctor. Also, Taxi is now stretched out on the ground and Rat is cursing up a storm in-between bites of her ham.”

I went back to the counter and found my release papers buried in a pile. I found the Dr, asked him to sign them, and he wrote me out two prescriptions. Since I had spent so much time with them… I went back to see Rat and Construction and tell them goodbye.

Construction “Your face is back to normal. You are so pretty I’m going to have another asthma attack!”

On that note… I bounced. But first I went to find a doctor and told him to go see about Construction.

I was home by Midnight. Spent $20 in cab fares and was subjected to ignorance. I was at work by 8:30am.

My face and chest are back to normal and I am no longer itching. I had an extremely tough week at work and once again I got hit with a reminder that everyone who claims to be your friend… is not your friend after some BS I’ve been experiencing in the past few weeks. Like this guy I went out with a few times in college used to say “Jessica, it’s about turning your circle into an oval”. I’ll leave that up to yalls interpretation.

I really just want to be by myself. This weekend I am locking myself in the apartment. I’m at that point where if someone just looks at me wrong I am going to whip their ass. I am going to church in the morning. Satin I rebuke thee!

To all my NY people…. pay attention. If something is to ever happen to me… take me to a hospital out in Jersey! Messing around in Harlem I would die in the waiting room.

You gotta Fight for your right to PARTY!

2009-06-14T21:39:00.001-04:00

Growing up with a last name staring with a “W” I was called last for everything. I was the last in line for bathroom break, the last to receive snack, sat in the last row in the classroom… and was called last to graduate. I wonder if there is some physiological study on how that affects people into adulthood. I was always in trouble for cutting the line, but you would too if you really had to tinkle and had to wait as 20 something kids fooled around at the sink.

Last night I was watching “Mean Girls” on TBS when I received a text from my girls to meet them at a club on 114th and Broadway. In NY all the dope parties pop off during the week…..so weekends are my chill time, but I had already promised I would go.

As I was stepping out of the cab I heard a couple of deep voices yell out “J WILS!” I searched the crowd to see two of my boys (Laurent and D) standing in some unorganized ciaos in front of the club. I joined them.

Me “What kind of mess is this?!”

D “On my life son! I’m leaving. This is ghetto and I’m tired of waiting”

I called my friend Charanna who was already inside. I could see her through the window… which signaled to me that it was not packed and poppin inside.

Me (on the phone with Charanna) “I’m leaving. I don’t do lines. This isn’t even moving.”

Charanna “Hold on. Zenitra is in here and she knows the promoter. We’ll get you in.”

She texts me that it will be about 5 min.

Me (to the guys) “I could hear her loud and clear over the phone…..”

Laurent “Yea, this is mad wack son. We are leaving. You coming?”

The bouncer comes out and announces there is a guest list. Thus, another reason I don’t like going out on weekends. NY has this thing with having secret codes and passwords to get into every party. IT IS NOT THAT SERIOUS! I text Charanna and ask her for the code. She texts back “BIV”.

Me (to the guys) “The passcode is “BIV”.

D “YO SON WE OUT!” Laurent and D left.

I waited 5 more min… and the line had not moved. Then the bouncers let in a group of dudes. All these females in line, and they are letting guys in???? NOT A GOOD LOOK! I called Charanna.

Me “I’m out.”

Charanna “The promoter said 5 min!”

Me “He said that 15 min ago, and it is starting to drizzle… My hair does not do rain.”

As I was walking to the corner to catch a cab back home Laurent calls and tells me to meet up with them at this bar down the block. I went. Once inside 3 of our other friends were in there… who had just left the party I was trying to get into. (NY is such a small place when you take out the tourists)

Lindsay “It was wack son! The DJ wasn’t even there. That’s why we left.”

We were too happy to be at this new spot. 4 dolla margaritas! This NEVER happens in NY and we took full advantage of the situation. Hell, Cran and Vodka will run you $17…. And that’s with Absolute… not even Goose!

D “So, Laurent and I have this new song we want to produce called “Thicka than a Snicka”.

They both start singing some hilarious hook.

Laurent “It’s going to be a parody of all those stupid sing song dance/ soulja boy joints that are out now”

Me “Can I be the video girl! I’m “Thicka than a Snicka!”

D and Laurent “You are in!”

Me “YAY!”

That’s when all of us drunkards started creating dance moves for this video… that probably will never be.

Brian “Are you guys ready to go back to that party?”

Brian, Lindsay and their friend all pull out these business card VIP passes.

Brian “Since we were already in the party they gave us cards so we would not have to wait in line if we came back”

Me “So what are me, D and Laurent supposed to do?”

Brian “Don’t worry, we’ll all get in.”

Me “I’ll just say I’m in the chick in the “Thicka in a Snicka” video.”

We head back to the party to find the line still long.

Brian “Everyone with a pass… rip it in half so we all get a piece.”

That was a great idea.

We turned our swagga up and walked passed the people in line and flashed our piece of the golden ticket. We had made it inside when all of a sudden a bouncer came behind me yelling and pointing at me.

Bouncer “AYE! YO SON! SHE ONLY GOT A HALF A RIPPED TICKET! SHE GOTTA GO SON! SHE GOTTA GO! GET HER OUT OF HERE!”

Was this dude really blowing up my spot? Even though I was in the wrong… I had to snap back and fight for my right to party.

Me (neck rolling, yelling, and snapping for the kids) “I don’t know why you are tripping. It’s free to get in anyway so it’s not like you are losing money letting me in. I don’t want to be in your funky party anyway. My friends are already in here. I’m industry! I don’t need this” BLAH BLAH BLAH (I snapped all the way out the door).

I then had to walk past all the people I cut to get in. PLAYED MYSELF. I stood at the curb… waiting for at least one person to come out. But my “FRIENDS” stayed inside. I was HEATED. Next thing I know… D was being escorted out. He had the “Get off me son!” face on.

D “I can’t believe I got kicked out. I actually had a full card, but I passed it to Laurent! On my life son! That’s not cool. I’M OUT!”

By this time I was standing there ROLLING. Thing is… D and I ended up looking like that person who is soooo desperate to get into the party. Which is not how we are in real life at all. We get invited to dope events all the time… we really did not care about this random party. And everyone knows I’m always down to just chill and be low key.

D then gets a text from Laurent that reads: “LMAO!”

D “This nigga thinks this shit is funny!”

Me (ROLLIN) “It actually is. We are grown as hell and just got kicked out the club”

I hate bouncers. They are some of the most thick neckded power trip brutes you ever interact with. Thinking they are hott stuff… when in reality they are nothing but burly ex college football players who did not get drafted or dudes who are too simple minded and fat to get into the police academy. Only they would get a rush out of kicking a girl out with half a VIP pass.

Cutting. It would get your name written on the board then… and it will get you kicked out the club now. Like I said earlier, being a “W” and always being treated “last” turned me into a life of crime. I blame my teachers for this incident!

Punk Ass Chauncy

2009-06-01T01:34:00.003-04:00

For those of you who watch my favorite show “The Game” you will get how hilarious the title of this entry is. For those of you who don’t get it… the message will still be made very clear, and you can youtube “punk ass chauncy” to get the joke.

It’s been about a month since I’ve blogged. I started a new job with those good benefits, so I’ve had to put writing for enjoyment on pause. But, it was only a matter of time until some complete and utter fuckery played out.

Last November, I was in the lunch cafeteria getting my mid-day snack…. frozen yogurt mixed with granola (mmmm) when my phone began to vibrate. I opened the pic message to find two woman each holding a little girl...one of the women being my mother and that little ball of cuteness being me! The text read: “Hey Jessica! It’s your god sister Denisha! I got your number from your mom. It’s been way too long and I figured we are too grown now not to have a relationship.” Truth was… she was right. We started a friendship.

She’s from Florida. When I was 11 our moms took us to a taping of “The Kenan and Kel Show”. After that, I knew I wanted to work in TV. I promised Denisha that I would come soon. Well, the next month I was laid off thus having to postpone my trip. Don’t you hate it when that happens?

At the end of April I received the blessing of a lifetime. I told Denisha once my paychecks started coming in I would be on the next thing smoking to Florida. Around this same time one of my really good guy friends moved down there. I like to keep “What is this? Velvet?” lawsuit free and will call this dude “Chauncy” so he cannot come after me for defamation of character.

I have known Chauncy for 12 years now. Seeing that I’m only 24… that’s a long time! Half my life! We met in 7th grade, went to HS together (until I transferred schools) and eventually wound up a couple of drunkards at the same college.

Have you ever had that one friend that is just fun to be around? That would be Chauncy! He comes from great stock (home training lol), extremely smart, very positive, approachable, and funny. The fact that he was a super star athlete never in the least bit made him egotistical. I’ve always been proud of him. Not strictly based off his accomplishments, but simply by the way he has always presented himself in the way he treated others, but most importantly how he treated me. He is also a team player, works well with others, excellent multitasking and organization, and has great verbal and written communication (HAHAHAHA j/k with that last part, but it was sounding like I was writing this man a letter of recommendation.) But really, I could never say enough good things that would totally capture the essence of who he is. That was my boy! Until this weekend. Never in a million years did I think TRIFLIN would be a word used to describe Chauncy… and his punk ass.

Friday I left the hustle and bustle and went to Tampa.

Sister “OMG!”

Me “HEEEEYYYY GURL!!!!!!”

Sister “Sis, you know you are looking EXTRA New York right now! You stick out something serious!” (she starts cracking up)

I guess my blunt bangs, black “MC Hammer” pants, “Kanye” popped colla jean jacket, “Mr. T” silver chains and the sandal boots I was rockin was a bit out of control. I looked like the dark skinned love child of Rihanna and Keri Hilson. We got in the car. I quickly rolled down the window letting the wind hit me in the face like an excited puppy.

Sister “Why your head all out the window?”

Me “When do I EVER ride shot gun!!!!!! My butt stays on the subway or the backseat of a cab! I’m enjoying myself! (getting distracted) “Yall have so many beautiful trees down here!”

Sister (cracking up) “I guess they don’t have trees in the big city”

Me “Nope…. Hold up! Is that a DILLARDS!!!!!! STOP THE CAR!”

Sister (cracking up) “You live in the Mecca of shopping! You write for fashion mags! Why do you want to shop in Tampa?”

Me “Because NY does not have Dillards…. And fashion mags only get clothes in a size 2…. Never in life have I, or will I be a size 2.”

(I made her take me to 3 Dillards over the weekend- hehehehehehe)

Walking into her Townhouse.

Me “IS THIS YOU????? It is soooooooo pretty!” (All my NY friends can attest that once you leave the city we become ppl who act like we have never been exposed to anything in our lives. We are cramped on top of one another, so when we go someplace with decent square footage… it’s like walking into a mansion.)

Sister “Thank you! I’ll show you around!”

Me “You have a dish washer! You have a laundry room! OMG! Your room is huge! YOU HAVE 3 BATHROOMS!” (it doesn’t take much to impress me anymore)

Sister “Actually, It’s 2 and a half.”

Me “If you can piss in all of them…. In my book that’s 3 bathrooms!”

Sister “I take it you and your roommate only have one. hahahaha”

Denisha had to go to work for a bit so I made myself at home. For the first time in a long time there were no sirens, sounds of domestic violence, salsa music, bad ass kids talking reckless on the streets…. just me and my thoughts. I began to think about how I too could have a dope place if I did not live in NY… and I became envious of the fact that her mortgage was less than my rent. I had made up my mind. I was moving!

I had told Chauncey I would send him a text when I settled… this I did. Around 6pm my phone woke me up.

Chauncy “Yoooooooooooo!!!!!!!!”

Me (flaming hot Dorito sleep breath) “What’s up?”

Chauncy “Ew. What are you doing?”

Me “ Relaxing on the couch.” (My roomie and just recently got one HAHA)

Chauncy “ Oh okay. Well, it’s been a long day at work and I’m too tired to drive down for dinner and then turn around and come back. What are yall getting into tomorrow?”

Me “The “Taste of Tampa” and who knows what else….”

Chauncy “Okay, well I will come down for that and then we will go out!”

We wrapped up the convo and he said he would call me in the morning when he was driving down. I guess it is 2 hours… he once said it was 45 min… who really knows where this negro lives. Either way, when you work in an industry full of shady ass people… it’s refreshing when you know you are going to spend some time with people who are real.

That night my sister and I went out. Tampa night life makes for another blog entry, but we ended up in some dudes VIP Birthday thing drinking up his goose and patron all night. Question: Why is it when guys buy you drinks you become their wife for the evening? Like I said, I’ll talk about that foolishness later. But, I have not had that much fun in a long time.

The next morning we woke up to go shopping and over to my aunts (who practically lives in a resort… you thought I was acting impressed before… this was amplified by a million!)

Auntie “What are you all getting in to today?”

Sister “One of Jessica’s friends is coming down and I’ve invited some people and we are all just going to hang out!”

Auntie “Jessica, that sounds nice! You don’t have any friends you grew up with in NY.”

Me “I have a feeling I won’t see him…..” (I kid you not. I said this.)

Auntie “Really, well it is only 1pm. I’m sure he will come!”

Sister “Jessica, do you want to shop closer in the city so when he comes it will be easier to meet up? I’ll call my friends and tell them to hang tight so we can all go to the taste together.”

Me “If you really want to do all that…. Okay.” (Mind you. Not only my day… but others depended on Chauncy’s moves.)

4pm rolls around and I have not heard from Chauncy… who I was assuming to see around 5pm.

Me “I can’t believe my friend stood me up!”

Sister “Girl, he did not stand you up! Text him!”

Me “I’m not texting nothing. You see…. I’ve been blessed with this skill to know how the male mind works. If you text… they just say they did not get it. If you call… they will say they did not get the missed call. Okay. Fine. I will call him… I know he is not going to answer… and I will leave him a message. The whole “My voicemail aint working” excuse never plays out well.

As I suspected… I got the voicemail.

Around 6pm… still no word from Chauncy. My sister scoops up one of her friends and we went to dinner.

Sisters’s friend “I hope nothing happened to him. You should call and act concerned to make sure all is okay.” (Why do girls always think this? Accept the fact that you have been played and keep it moving!)

Me “Nothing is wrong with this dude. He played me. He knows it. It’s that simple. He also knows that the longer he waits to call me… the more pissed off I am becoming. I promise you. He will call me around 8 or 9. If he doesn’t he will call me tomorrow or Monday with some outlandish story.

Like clock work. 8pm rolls around… and it’s Chauncy on the phone.

Me (to the girls in the car) “Should I even bother to pick this up?”

Sister “Girl! If you don’t pick up that phone!”

Me (to Chauncy) “Hello?”

Chauncy “Hey…..” (sigh- you can hear in this dudes voice I’m in for a treat) “What are you doing?”

Me (fighting back laughter to conceal how irritated I am) “Riding in the car… what are you doing?”

Chauncy “I’m at home…. Look Jess, I don’t think I am going to be able to make it.” (NO SHIT SHERLOCK! I KNEW THIS AT 2pm!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Me (keeping it cool) “awww maaaan.” (notice… I didn’t even ask him to explain… because I REALLY did not want him to. At this point I was going to think what I wanted to think anyway.)

Chauncy “Yea, I don’t have the money to come down” (I wish yall could see the side-eye action I was giving my berry… the ppl in the car were holding their mouths trying not to bust out)

(I know this nigga is not going to blame the recession on why he hoed me all day and is just now returning a call I placed 4 hours ago.)

Me “ummm… you knew yesterday that you did not have money. Why are you just now saying something? You knew this morning that you did not have money…..”

The point is…. He called ME MAKING PLANS! How are you the plan maker… with no paper????????? That’s just bad business!!!

Chauncy “Look. I know myself. I have to buy gas…. And it cost a lot to fill my truck. I’m going to want to eat and buy drinks…. I have no self-control.”

Me “I can’t see my friend… because he has no self control……..”

Chauncy (nervous laughter) “Don’t do that… that’s not what I said….”

Me “That is what you said. That you have no self control…” (what the hell does he plan on eating and drinking that is going to break the bank?)

Chauncy “You are getting on my case!” (someone feels guilty… I learned this in mock trial. Displaced aggression is always a sign.)

Me (asking the ppl in the car) “Am I getting on this man’s case?”

Car folks “NO!”

Me “They disagree with you.”

Chauncy “I feel guilty”

Me “As you should”

Chauncy “Jessica. I’m not going to be able to make it. I’ve got a money situation to handle.” (growing up I’ve had a lot of nicknames… and most ppl just call me Jess… So when I hear him attach the “ica” to my name… I took it that he might be serious.)

Me “Do you really want to come down?”

Chauncy “I do.”

Me “How much do you need?”

Chauncy “No, Jessica. I can’t do that.”

Me “What do you need?’

Chauncy “I can’t”

Me “I’m trying to save you… but you don’t want to be saved! What do you need!!!”

Chauncy “I know you are my girl. But, I can’t do that. And I did not want to tell you earlier.”

Me “I’ve known you forever dude, if you need something… I got you….”

Chauncy “I’m sorry. I’m not coming.”

Me “All I’m saying is…. You knew this earlier.” (this whole conversation I’m bubbly and not casting an attitude in the least bit!)

Chauncy “I didn’t want to tell my friend that I could not see her.”

Me “I’ve known you for how long… and you didn’t want to……”

Chaucny “I KNOW!”

This man knew me back when I had glow in the dark braces and dookey braids! Yet, he felt uncomfortable telling me that he played around with my day…. Over some BS that could have been resolved way sooner. TRIFLIN! Not only was it my day… but others. And he knew this! TRIFLIN! Not to mention SELFISH and BOGUS!

Me “Just admit… you don’t feel like driving.”

(Everyone in the car co-signs on this)

Chauncy “I drive down there all the time! It’s not the drive.” (wrong thing to say. You drive down here all the time? Yet, when a supposed friend is in town… you don’t want to drive. This was getting bad.)

Real talk. I know guys. He had other plans. Dudes are quick to play the homegirl that will always be around for the taste of the month. Chauncy and I aren’t dating, never have… it was none of my business so I did not even take it there. But do I believe that’s what happened. YES! That is my final answer.

The longer we talked. The more I irritated I got.

Chauncy “I just don’t have the money right now.”

Me “Okay, like I’ve said. You don’t have to explain.”

Chauncy “Yea, I’m just going to sit here and eat a peanut butter sandwich tonight.”

Me “So… you want to play the victim?

Chauncy “No! I’m just letting you know I’m broke!”

For those of you who know what I’ve been through since college…. Broke was my middle name. I ate so much rice/pasta and 2 for $1 oat meal cream pies to the point my bowel movements were yellow. Pride wouldn’t let me get stamps. So playing the “broke” card when you really aren’t…. get’s no love from me! AND this dude just said he was eating peanut butter! That ish is almost $4 a jar in Harlem. Peanut butter is a fuckin delicacy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me “okay!”

Chauncy “You are acting nice…. But I know you! As soon as we get off the phone you are going to clown me. I’m about to be your next blog! I know it! I know you too well! You’re like that song from the 60’s…

Me (bracing myself for this) “Chauncy, what song are you talking about?”

Chauncy “you know the one! Goes something like…. “they smile in your face….”

Me “I remind you of the song “Backstabbers?” (My irritation was quickly growing into anger. Did he REALLY just say this. I would ride out with this guy until the wheels roll off… and he just said that he thought I was a BACKSTABBER!)

Chauncy “I did not mean it like that….. I just meant that I know you are going to talk bad about me once we hang up.”

This was true. But if he knew me sooooo well, then why did he allow for this to happen? All he had to do was call earlier in the day and say this: “Jessica, something came up. Unfortunately I will not be able to come. I’m sorry. I will get at you later.” THAT IS ALL THAT NEEDED TO BE SAID. OR he could have simply said YESTERDAY “I’d love to see you, but my finances aren’t looking tight. I’m not making any promises, but I will let you know as soon as I can as to whether we can hang or not.” I would have respected either.

Me “YO, SON! YOU ARE NOT KEEPING IT FUNKY RIGHT NOW!”

Chauncy (mimicking me) “I am keeping it funky!”

It was at that moment I realized. Despite the fact that he claims to know me and probably has seen all the sides to my personality. There is the one side he has never seen…. The angry Harlem girl. Somehow this Iowa blood was transfused with that of an uptown chick… and neither of us was ready for that. I knew I had to get off the phone.

Me “okay cool. I will talk to you later.”

Chauncy “Okay, so what are you going to do tonight?” (did he really have the audacity to act like he cared?)

Me “What does it matter?”

Chauncy “Here we go!”

Me “I’m not upset… I’m..” (I was cut off)

Chauncy “I don’t care. You can be mad.” (Was this really going down?)

Me “You have a nice night, Chauncy. (Classy. He can’t say I was the angry black woman. I was not about to give him that satisfaction.)

Sister “Wow, are you okay?”

Me “Since graduating… I’ve had a bunch of people let me down. Friendships I thought were good… in the end meant nothing. Just never thought I’d have to put him on that list. So no, I’m not mad… just hurt.”

Sister “Yea. I mean why did he have us waiting around all day?”

Me “Because I don’t mean shit to him. That’s what I got out of that conversation. Someone who I had all the respect in the world for does not have an ounce of respect for me. If he knew me so well he would know that there are three things you don’t mess with. My money and my TIME.”

Sister “What’s the third?”

Me “Respect. That was just inconsiderate and rude and I sincerely apologize if that messed up what ever else you all had planned for the day.”

Sisters friend “You have some raggety friends!” (this girl did not even know me… but could take away that I have raggety friends…. Ouch. Not the type of first impression I am used to making.) “Hell! You offered him money!”

Sister “Maybe he was trying to get some money together this morning…...”

Me “What? Do you think he was going door to door selling Girl Scout cookies and yay (coke)?

The more I had to sit there and listen the more disrespected I felt. And by the oldest friend I’ve got. Shameful. I swear. Will someone please remove the sign on my back that reads: “I LOVE TRIFLIN PEOPLE”

Me “Well, in the words of Laurie Ann from Making the Band… “ONE MONKEY DON’T STOP MY SHOW!”

With that I had another great evening in Tampa.

The next day I did not want to leave. I missed suburban life and was not ready to come back to NY.

After having to tell my aunt what happened…

Auntie “That’s horrible!”

Me “I know…”

Auntie “What are you going to do”

Me “Throw him in the time capsule.”

Auntie “I don’t understand?”

Me “The 8th grade time capsule…that’s where he belongs. I’ve got a space between my Fubu overalls and headgear.

The rest of the day was spent by the pool. 9:00pm back to NY. I got off the plane aggravated by all the horns, traffic, and smog. I was standing at the door to my 6 floor walk-up apartment… I was dreading having to lug my having bag up all those stairs. Tampa really made me long a more comfortable life.

As I reached in my bag to pull out my keys… my work ID hit the floor. I picked it up and could not help but to stare at my big cheesin smile. I will never forget the day I took that pic. April 24, 2009. Almost 8 years to the day of that little HS newspaper feature on me where I said “One day I will work at MTV”. I stuffed the MTV Networks badge back in my bag and took a quick moment to gain some perspective. This is where I belong.

I may never have the big home. I may never live by a Dillards. I may never have the perfect friendships. But at the end of the day, I’ll always have my dreams… and they haven’t let me down yet.

And since Chauncy is into playing “name that tune” I got a song for him.

"What About Your Friends" -TLC

Every now and then I get a little crazy
That's not the way it's supposed to be
Sometimes my vision is a little hazy
I can't tell who I should trust or just who I let trust me (yeah)

People try to say I act a little funny
But that's just a figure of speech to me
They tell me I changed because I got money
But if you were there before then you're still down with me

[Chorus:]
What about your friends
Will they stand their ground
Will they let you down again
What about your friends are they gonna be low down
Will they ever be around or will they turn their backs on you

Well is it me or can it be I'm a little too
Friendly so to speak hypothetically
Say I supply creativity to what others
Must take as a form of self-hate
Only to make an enemy
Which results in unfortunate destiny
They dog me out then be next to me
Just cause I am what some choose to envy

Every now and then I get a little easy
I let a lot of people depend on me
I never though they would ever deceive me
Don't you know when times got rough I was standing on my own
I'll never let another get that close to me
You see I've grown a lot smarter now
Sometimes you have to choose and then you'll see
If your friends is true they'll be there with you
Through the thick and thin

[Chorus]

Yo is it me, is it me or can it be I am a little too friendly
So to speak hypothetically
'Cause I supply creativity to what others
Must take as a form of self-hate
Only to make an enemy
Which results in unfortunate destiny
They dog me out then be next to me
Just cause I am what some choose to envy

[Chorus]

People say I act a little funny
I wouldn't change not for no money
I'll be a friend as long as you're a friend to me (yeah, yeah)
Even though I might seem easy
It don't give you no cause to deceive me
It's not the way that I want my friends to ever be

[Chorus]

Take Me To The Water

2009-04-26T22:34:00.001-04:00

My whole Sunday was thrown off today.

It’s that time of the season where NY is heavily populated by tourists who feel the need to take pictures of stupid and random stuff… like billboards and street signs…taking up the entire sidewalk to do this. MOVE TRICK, IM TRYING TO GET TO WORK!

After seeing Times Square, The Statue of Liberty, and the Empire State Building… the next stop is Harlem! The mecca of the black church. I’ve never vacationed and decided to tour a church service… but to each its own. Honestly, it’s weird. I think it’s wonderful if people want to come to church, but do it because of your love of the Lord… not because you have seen a black church scene on TV or a Movie and you find it amusing to watch Sistah Monroe or Deacon Jenkins pass out after their holy running man dance to the choir’s version of latest “ WOW GOSPEL” 2009 super mix.

I believe Sunday is the most segregated day of the week. Each race goes to their respective institutions… and it’s like the Harlem churches don’t know what to do with all the European tourist, but place them in their own section away from the black church members… its’ like stepping into 1959. But the thing that upsets me is that the tourists pull out cameras and take pictures. This is inappropriate! And once the singing is over… all 500 of them get up and leave…. Don’t even stay for the word. I guess after the “shuckin and jiving” there is nothing left to see?

Anyway. Today I brought a friend to church with me today… who was quite bothered by the segregation as well. The black line… and the white line.

Stacy “Why are their separate lines?”

Me “We are black so they assume we are members”

Stacy “WOW”

We were running late so we had to sit in the balcony. Baptism was taking place. After what seem like the whole world got baptized 2 songs were sung and the little kids did a praise and worship dance. That’s when the preacher announced that it was “Open Pool” and that anyone who felt it in their spirit could come up and get baptized.

Me “WHHAAAAAATTTT? It’s 1pm and I have yet to hear the word!!!!!!!”

Stacy just sat there giving side eye lol.

Mad ppl took off running to the back to get changed into the white attire.

Pastor “Come all. Don’t miss this opportunity! If you just got your hair done get it done again! God is waiting!”

WOW. I have been going to church my entire life and have NEVER seen a “last call”/ “open bar” for wading in the water.

The time was now 1:33pm… still no sermon. Next thing we know the preach says this…

Preacher “The doors to the church are open”

WHAT! NO SERMON! Honestly, I could have slept in for all that. I’m happy that 48 people decided to dedicate their life to Christ today, but I really needed to get the word so I could have a productive week.

To top it off it was 90 degrees today and I waited for my food at an un air-conditioned KFC for 45 min…. just to try 2 pieces of the new grilled chicken (which was a little dry) and a burnt biscuit.

Finish Line... We More than Shoes

2009-04-17T15:27:00.004-04:00

In high school all the “cool kids” worked at the mall. More importantly you had to work at a sporting store. I held down my end at Finish Line.

Finish Line was a trip and so much fun. Richelle worked across from me at Footlocker. I used to walk in her place of employment in my full uniform and yell out:

“MAN! Yalls shoes SUCK! Yall don’t even have shoxs in here! I’m going back to Finish Line!”

Then I would knock a shoe or two over and tell her to pick it up. Please believe she would come in Finish Line talking just as crazy and going in on the fact that we did not have Jordans or Forces (to my NY peeps Forces= Uptowns).

One of our store managers was this short, fat, nerdy, redheaded dude named Bob. He was SOOOO weird and just did not fit in at all with the staff. He came to us from another mall when our cool manager relocated to Kansas City.

I was on to Bob early. Something in his milk wasn’t clean. All the Iowa thug dudes used to come in looking for him and then they would go to the backroom. When I would work the register Bob would always run right behind me and do something… at first I thought he was checking to see if my drawer was short… but that couldn’t be… bosses loved it when I worked register cause it would always be over! LOL! Hey, let this be a lesson to you to count your change!

One day I was coming into work as a handcuffed Bob was being escorted out by 4 police officers.

Me “WTF is going on????”

Brice “Yo, J! It just popped off in here!”

Me “What is it????”

Brice “Man, Bob has been deleting transactions after we ring! He stole $7,000!”

Me “WHHHHAAAAATTTTT”

Brice “That’s not it! He’s been dealing drugs in the back!”

Me “LLLLLLLMMMMMMMMMBBBBBBOOOOOO”

Brice “Who would have knew that nerd had all that in him.”

Come to Finish Line where you can get your Nikes with a side of crack!

College Foolishness

2009-04-09T03:20:00.003-04:00

Disclaimer: I don’t proof my blogs. It’s 4am so I’m half sleep listening to the soothing sounds of the Goo Goo Dolls. This entry is going to have more mistakes than usual… but you’ll get the point lol

2 weeks before sophomore year I announced that I would not be returning to Texas Christian University. I HATED that place. Well, not so much the school… just some of the closed minded confederate flag waving students.

Dad “So what… you want to take a semester off? Just as long as you graduate on time.”

Me “I came into college as a second semester freshman… I can take a semester to apply for schools and still be on track.”

When I say I have great parents… I mean it. I had a full ride scholarship that I lost when I transferred schools and my folks paid out of pocket for my education so that I would not have student loans. I have the best dad in the world too. A few days later we drove down to Texas to grab my stuff and say goodbye to some of my friends. We did this without stopping at a hotel. OH SO TIRED! (I know you think I’m a spoiled brat… eh… TRUST living in New York has most definitely broke me of that!!!)

While gasing up, a car came and some scum bag yelled out to my dad:

“Why you around here nigger!” (they sped off)

Dad “YO MAMMA!!”

I was appalled! Not so much at what was said to dad (that’s typical small town Texas) but at his response. Dad is the KING at comebacks and jokes! Did he really just say…. “YO MAMMA!!!!????!!!” That didn’t even make sense! I dropped it. Dad grew up in Oklahoma during the Civil Right Movement… so I knew this was a sensitive issue.

The next morning after we got back to Iowa my mom woke me up at 6am. She threw a suit on my bed and told me to get dressed. Anyone who knows me will tell you… a suit… NOT MY THING!

Me “Are you serious? Where am I going?”

Mom “To Iowa City. You will not be sitting around this house for a semester. We are driving up to the University of Iowa and you are going to use that gift of gab to talk yourself into school and we will not leave until you have registered for classes.”

Me “Semester starts in 2 weeks… I’m kind of past the deadline……”

Mom “Get dressed. Or would you like to go to Iowa State instead?”

Me “I’ll take U of I for 500 please.”

By 4pm that afternoon I had registered for classes. Now to find someplace to live. This late in the game finding housing was going to be a beast.

One of mom’s co-workers had a friend whose daughter needed a 4th girl for their condo. I moved in.

There we were…. 4 girls in a 2 bedroom 1 bath. Sharing a room and sleeping in a twin bed was not my idea of comfort… but sometimes you have to take what you can get. Seeing that my boyfriend at the time lived in Des Moines… I was rarely there anyway. Until we broke up a few weeks later LOL.

One day after class Richelle and I were on my couch eating fish sticks and grill cheese (oh college!) when I decided to call my boyfriend. His brother picked up. And clearly he did not catch my voice.

Me “Hey, put AC on the phone”

Brother “On second Becca”

Me “HOLD UP! EXCUSE ME?????”

Brother “Oh Shit! This is Jessica?”

He hangs up the phone. I call back. The girlfriend to this fool who just said the wrong name answered. The two of us hated each other so we got to arguing. Richelle just sat there looking at me. She (like most people) is used to seeing me all extra goofy… we had been friends since 8th grade and this was probably the first time she saw me PISSED to the 10th power.

Me “We are going to Des Moines NOW! Grab the Vaseline and some bail money cause there is gonna be some fightin!”

Richelle did everything she could to try to calm me down. After many phone calls being placed between me, my boyfriend, brothers girl, boyfriends mamma…. I was going to Des Moines.

Richelle’s car was in the shop. Mine was at my parents…. so we took my roommates beat up 1984 Chrysler. I was driving so fast I hit a raccoon on the way. It usually takes about 1 hour and 45 min…. I would not be surprised if I did it in an hour.

Well… AC played it smart and was at some concert that night. I sat out front like a crazy woman for a while until I realized I was too fly to be doing that shit… so we just ended up spending the night at a friends house. AC called around 2 am… the argument was emotionally draining and I did not even want to see him after all that. Like most guys would say “Becca” was just some chick who called all the time… but I was not dealing with it. He tried to spin it by saying that he knew guys were trying to get at me at school… and that I was openly flirting when he came to visit me the week before with someone at a party… whatever dude!

Starting the semester off broken hearted was horrible… but Richelle was with me through the whole thing. We baked a lot of cakes, ate rolls of cookie dough, and I threw down my specialty every night…. homemade Rice Krispi Treats!

One of my roommates was getting played too. Her boyfriend moved in and was living in our living room. He did not pay rent, but loved to eat our food and act like he was running things. One day I was in the shower and he had the nerve to knock on the door and yell at me.

Mike “HURRY UP! I need to get in there! I’m trying to go out for drinks!”

Me “You need to go out for some damn rent money! And while you out get some damn toilet paper!” (Richelle basically lived with us too… but no one minded her being there because she contributed financially to the house… something this negro needed to learn to do.)

Mike “I’m not PLAYING! GET OUT!” (I turned off the water and threw on my towel)

Me “I know you are not trying to rush me out of the shower. Until you put in on the water bill… I WILL TAKE MY TIME!”

The two of us then got to pushing each other in and out of the bathroom.

Me “Act like you are going to put your hands on me and I’ll have half the football team over here in that ass! Think you cute with your giant gap… and on top of that got the nerve to be snaggle toothed!"

Mike stormed out the house. The next day he got what was coming to him. While he was in the shower his girl Hannah (one of the roommates) was going through his wallet and she found a condom. Now Hannah was this painfully skinny, overly tanned, skunk streaked hair chick… her attitude was not to be played with.

Hannah (storming into the bathroom) “MIKE! WTF is this!”

Mike “uh…. A condom….”

Hannah “Why do you have it?”

Mike “For protection…..”

Hannah “WE DON’T USE PROTECTION!”

Richelle and I BUSTED out laughing. One because they bedroom business was just exposed…. and two… Mike was caught!

Richelle (starts singing Boys II Men) “Don’t have to stay with someone… that makes you cry”

Me “Makes you cryyyyy! You’ll end up killing all the love you have inside…”

Hannah “GET YO SHIT AND GET OUT!” (I was TOO happy to hear those words… this called for another song… this time “Leave” by that teenage brown haired chick Jojo)

Me (singing) “Get out, right now, It’s the end of you and meeeeee”

Richelle (singing) “It’s too late, and I can’t wait for you to be goneeeee”

We were on a roll with this. Mike entered the room fresh from the shower and he was too mad and trying to explain himself to Hannah.

Me “How about you just pack up your belongings!” (I was sooo tired of this dude freeloading off of us!)

By that night… the two of them had made up. Looked like I was going to have to deal with Mike for a little while longer.

Well… one of our other roommates (Kristi) was a pathological liar. The two of us bumped heads all the time. Shit hit the fan when she told her father I pulled a gun on her. GIRL, BYE! That was the last draw!!!!!!! I terminated my lease. Where that even came from I had no idea… seeing that a few hours earlier the two of us had went to the gym together. She was on that “To Kill a Mocking Bird” BS. I was not risking being locked up over her foolery! I packed all my stuff and loaded up my truck that night. I moved in with Richelle… what I should have done in the first place!

First semester sophomore year… it did not get anymore dramatic than that! …. Actually… it did. You know I’ll blog about it later… JR year is when this crazy clingy lesbian chick transferred to our school… and she used to just show up to the apartment with an overnight bag demanding to spend the night….. one of my roommates let her in one night and I woke up to her rubbing my leg. DO YALL SEE WHY I HAVE ISSUES!!!!!!! FOOLISHNESS!

NOT A GOOD LOOK!!!!!!!!!

2009-04-07T16:59:00.002-04:00

Today’s story is a quick one…. But oh so funny! Well… at least it is to me and my crew.

So my homegirl broke up with her boyfriend a few months back… and he owes are some money (he needs to step his game up… thus why he got dropped) ANYWAY. She was soooo mad that she went to dontdatehimgirl.com to look into creating a profile for him to warn women everywhere of his trifliness.

Well…. Some other chick beat her to it because his ass is already exposed on the site! LMMMMMBBBBBBBOOO. Click here (or copy link) http://dontdatehimgirl.com/search/0/Dexter%20Henry/name/ check it out. If you can’t view it this is what she writes next to a picture of him and a current girl. She even put his government all out there.

He's a liar LIAR LIAR and a CHEATER cheater, we were together for a year and he cheated on me numerous times. He would say that he was home working at nights when in reality he was at some other girls home. He linked up with women thru facebook and myspace. He told me he dumped his previous girlfriend to be with me but now I dont believe him. He was probably still with her when I was dating him! DONT BELIEVE THE LIES!!!

Sigh… nothing like a woman scorned. Although I have to say… she played herself too… how do you get cheated on “numerous times”????? I take it once was not enough?

To all my male friends (cause some of yall know you wrong) you might want to check to make sure your name is not all in these streets! FOOLERY AT IT’S BEST!

Just Let Your Sooooouuull Glowwww"

2009-04-05T21:27:00.008-04:00

(I can't write about this and not post the song)

I’ve always had a thing for people who dress outside the box. Today my style muses include: Tracee Ellis Ross, Sarah Jessica Parker (more like Patricia Fields), Rihanna, Keri Hilson, and Kerry Washington. But when I was younger… It was all about Tia and Tamara on Sister Sister.

They were so fly to me. They shared a similar style to Blossom and Six from the show Blossom… only I related more to the twins. They had this Jackson 5 steez about them with all that mix matched gear. But what I loved most was… THEIR HAIR!

Oh to have big puffy curly hair! I wanted it! Every time Sister Sister came on I would tell my mom that I needed my hair just like that. Mom said she would take me to get it done. I was TOO excited! Well… instead of explaining that I did not have “good hair” and that Tia and Tamara are of mixed race…. moms took me to get the worst thing imaginable done to my head.

Stylist “So… What do you think!”

Me (almost in tears) “WHY DID YOU GIVE ME A JHERI CURL!!!!!!!!??????!!!!!!!”

Mom “That’s what you wanted…” (as the lady is spraying my hair with a product called… Hawaiian Silky… side-eye)

There I was. It was 1996 and I had a 1986 do. How was I ever to explain why at the age of 12… I was rockin a juicy curl. I love Michael Jackson… but I was not trying to look like that Negro.

The beautician handed me a bottle of activator and sent me on my way. As I was getting in the car my mom wrapped a towel over the headrest.

Mom “I don’t want the fresh juice from that curl staining my seats…” I WAS DEVASTATED!

When I got home my dad took one look at me and busted out singing.

Dad (Coming to America… our favorite movie) “Just let yo sooouuull glow. Oh so silky smoooooooth.”

It was too early for jokes. I went to my room and did not come down until the next morning for church.

I was dreading going to church. Seeing that I was the only black kid in school… I knew the white kids would not know what a jerri curl was… but church… that was nothing but black people. I was about to get CLOWNED! My friend Blair had a Jheri Curl… so based off seeing her experience with one… I knew what was coming.

Mouths dropped when I walked into Sunday School. And like my dad… they busted out in song.

Kids “Just let your Sooooouuulll Gloow… oh soooo silky Smooooth!”

All I could do was sit there and take it.

Me “I have an accidental curl! I did not mean to get this!”

Brandon (laughing extra hard) “How do you have an “accidental” Jheri Curl Jaws?”

Me “I wanted my hair like Tia and Tamara….”

Brandon “You aint half white!”

Me “SHUTUP!”

Karl “You have the same hair as Blair!”

Me “NO! Blair got a Jheri Curl on purpose! Besides... This is a Hawaiian Silky!” (That last comment is a lesson on quitting while you're ahead.)

To this day I can’t watch an episode of Sister Sister without feeling bitter. It took a year to strip that hott messness out my head. I now know that my hair CAN look like theirs… if it is straw set. Too bad I was not up on the hair terminology back then. Blair and will forever be known as the “Jheri Curl Twins”. Who knew we would be bonded by the juice for life. LOVE YA BLAIR! Glad I’m not the only youth in the church directory rockin good ole Jerri. I don’t miss sleeping in a shower cap.

(I know yall want to see pics... but they've been long destroyed)

T-shirt and my boxers onnnnnn!

2009-04-03T00:45:00.004-04:00

I’ve been trying to think of a story I could post just so I could use the above picture of Beyonce. Since I don’t have any personal funny flight stories… my brother, Justin, is going to have to take one for the team. I love you, but I’m going to have to write about this one cause it is forever funny to me.

The night before moving to New York my family along with my god family went to Texas Road House in Chicago for a farewell dinner. The next day was Christmas morning and me, my dad, and my brother spent it up chucking our meal…. Food poisoning is the worst!

Why did I move on Christmas? According to my father this is the cheapest day to fly because no one wants to fly on such a holiday. So there I was… I had to pack my life into 5 small boxes. "5 boxes and a dream" (that’s what my E True Hollywood story will be called LOL).

My mom felt fine (either her stomach is tough or she didn't eat what we had)… but the three of us were still VERY sick. Flying while food poisoned… this was not going to be good. I sat next to my dad on the flight and across the isle sat my brother and mom. My head was between my knees most of the ride as I blasted "Warrior" by Nas in my ipod. Next thing I hear is my mom and my brother.

Mom “JUSTIN! GET UP!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Justin “I’m sorry, I’m Sorry!!!!!!!”

This man straight up threw up all over himself projectile style. He and mom ran to the bathroom. OMG! Justin comes back to his seat… with just his boxers. Mom had his pants in a plastic bag that she threw away when we arrived.

Usually dad and I would have had mad jokes, but we were too sick to even care.

Justin “Mom, this is embarrassing… you don’t have any pants in a carry on?”

Mom “No, Justin. Eveything is checked. Don’t be embarrassed. When you get off this plane you remember one thing… You are a Wilson and we always hold our head up high. Never show defeat. Pants or no pants.”

I could not believe this “we are down by 20 in the first half locker room coach to the point guard pep talk” my mom was having with my brother. Funny, but I still could not laugh.

About an hour later we arrived in JFK Airport in NYC. My brother got off the plane wearing nothing but his boxers, a South Pole T-shirt, sky blue Tims, and a fitted. But maaaaaaaaaaannnn was that head held high as EVERYONE starred at him! I walked a good 50 paces behind….. my parents tried to cover him. Mom walked in back and my dad walked in front like this negro was the president and they were his secret service. Nothing like a 5 ft 10 220lb solid built black man walking through an airport as if he meant to step out in his undies. I admire bro’s swagga!

I think the funniest part was Justin standing all impatiently at baggage claim and then tearing through the suitcase once it came around.

The fam went straight to the hotel and went to bed. My first night in the city and I was too sick to even go exploring. The next morning when I woke up I looked across the room at my brother who was sitting on the couch. My dad walked in our room… and the two of us BUSTED OUT LAUGHING!!!!!!!

Me “Yo, Sorry Justin but you are going to get it today cause I was too gone to even laugh!”

Justin “IT’S OVER!”

Me “Ohhhhhh nooooo it’s not!!!!!!!!”

Remember that song T-shirt and my panties on? Well I had to do the remix!

Me (singing) “I’ve got my South Pole and my Boxers onnnnnnnn…. South Pole and my Boxers onnnnnnnnnn” (I’m doing my version of the dutty whind while singing)

Dad “BABABABAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

Me “Dad, did mom really give him that game time talk on the plane?”

Dad “Did he really throw up on himself and then walk through the airport with no pants on?”

Justin could not help but to laugh too… it was funny! I then busted out in James Brown’s classic song “Hot Pants”

Mom (laughing) “Jessica, this is how I know you were sick… you couldn’t wait to feel better to bust out this comedy routine!”

Me “Better HIM throwing up and having to walk off the plane in his boxers…. Cause if it were me… it would have been an entirely different situation!”

Dad “We aren’t even going to discuss that one”

April Fools!!!!!!!

2009-04-02T12:18:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was April Fools day… boy did I experience some FOOLISHNESS on the part of Facebook Stalkers.

In an attempt to play a joke on my friend Charanna… one of my really good guy friends (Laurent) and I decided to sink up our relationship status and profess our “dedication” to each other via the social networking site. What a HOTT MESS!

Within 2 min of us doing this I received a random friend request from one of his crushes… I had never met her… and he was our only friend in common. She didn’t even attach a message to this request. She just wanted to glimps at my profile so that she could find out more about me… and then email pics off to her friends that read “she aint even cute” or “he could do better”… we all know that is what ole girl wanted to do.

Next came the emails and CALLS from my friends congratulating me and wanting to find out about my new man. Ummmm it said “in a relationship” not “engaged”. Since when do you congratulate someone on caking? I’m glad everyone wanted to know my business, but it was a little overwhelming. What makes it worse is that one person I have been trying to contact for months… found out my new boo and called me with the quickness. Guess they weren’t too busy for gossip.

On Laurents side he too received the same treatment. Mostly from females wanting to know more about me. I even got a text from a guy saying “I thought you did not want to settle down until your career took off.” ARE YOU SERIOUS. Again I ask… since when is caking settling down? Laurent did not put a ring on it!

Next thing I know mutual friends are commenting on pictures the two of us had taken together saying stuff like “Bout time someone got in a relationship… Praise Jesus!!!!!” Why you gotta bring the Lord into this?

Charanna tried to flip my joke on me via G-chat and Laurent was in on it. She played it like her and Laurent were together on the low and that she could not believe he was cheating on her with me saying: “I can’t believe I cooked for that negro… He got me crying at work.” GIRL. BYE!!!!!!!!! Too bad you can’t out joke a jokester. Sorry people.

This morning I woke up to a post from Laurent who dumped me via wall. Talk about HARSH! This was followed by a message from a facebook friend saying “what happened”.

If anything this taught me to be careful what you put on the net. Once your business is out others feel privy to know what’s going on in your life and will stop at no ends to get the low down. Glad I could be the center of your world for a day! April Fools you FOOL! LOL

Putting out... or not

2009-03-31T20:14:00.002-04:00

There are just some moments in life that are awkward… like the time I made a bunch of my guy friends watch Tyra with me. It was the episode when she had the velvet clitoris puppet and told the audience “your vagina is like a self cleaning oven” yea… not something you watch with the guys.

That ranked up there with when I was in 6th grade and my mom took me bra shopping. Being a tomboy I hated the whole experience (I rocked a sports bra and taped my boobs down up until this point… I know you are probably thinking that is weird… but some girls just have problems dealing with puberty okay!) Well… 2 boys from my class were in the store with their mom and walked up to me right as my mom was holding some frilly pink bra concoction to my chest. I was mortified! Till this day Ryan and I still joke about it. It wasn’t till a few years ago I realized that my mom still bought my bras (I made her do this so I would not be caught in the act again)… I now buy my own.

Right before I was off to Texas to begin my college experience mom took me to do some dorm shopping at Wal-mart… at least…. that’s what I was suckered into believing we were doing. At the time Des Moines only had one Wal-mart so you would see everyone and there mamma up in that joint.

Me “Mom, why are we going to the medicine section… you have to pick up a prescription?”

Mom “No, I want to show you something.”

Me “I have deodorant…”

Mom “I know”

Me “I have razors”

Mom “I KNOW just come with me!”

I did not have a good feeling about this. As I suspected…. there I was in the condom isle with my mom!

Me “Why are we looking at condoms?”

Mom “Because you are about to be 14 hours away from me and I need to make sure you are protected!”

Me (I joke when I am mad uncomfortable) “Well… can we just go get a gun or a knife or something?”

Mom “Your health is a serious matter. Now, I am 45 years old and I am done raising kids. I am not sending you off to school and you bring me back some kid to raise.”

Me “I’m not going to get pregnant!”

Mom “You have sex, you will get pregnant!”

Me “I won’t have sex can we just get out of here!”

My mom then began to explain the difference between ribbed, spermicide, and the brands. I don’t know if I was mad that I was getting condom lessons 101… or the fact that she thought there was a possibility I was going to be turning tricks at school!

Mom “Now pick some out.”

Me “I’m GOOD!”

Mom “I want to know that I sent you off with all the knowledge. Pick some out!”

Right as I was reaching for some random condoms (I was temped to get the Magnums, but I thought now was not the time to joke) this guy I used to talk to (and never had sex with) came over on his way to pick up a prescription. HE JUST LOOKED AT ME AND KEPT IT MOVING!

Mom “Hi Patrick!”

Me “ OHHHHH NOOOOOO!!!!!!!! I’m LEAVING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I then took off running out of Wal-mart. My mom met me like 10 min later by the car.

Mom “That’s not like you to run??”

Me “He probably thinks I got turned out!!!!!!!”

Mom “Turned out?”

Me “I see I’m going to have to teach YOU some stuff!”

Mom “Well… let’s just go back in so you can get your stuff….”

Me “How about we just go to Target!”

A few days later Patrick called.

Pat "So... when did you start putting out."

Me "Never. Mom was helping me shop...."

Pat (busts out laughing) "What in the hell!!!!"

Me "You know I intern in the Governors’ office. I am presenting on safe sex practices and the benefit of living in a pro choice society."

(that dummy believed me HAHAHAHAHAHA)

I Know You!

2009-03-30T20:03:00.002-04:00

I was out on the down the other night when a guy came at me with the most disturbing line EVER.

Guy “You in here looking all good.”

Me “Thanks”

Guy “You seem young… how old are you?”

Me “24….”

Guy “Damn! You look good… Like you 12 or something!”

Me “That has to be the most Ped-O-phile comment I have ever heard.”

Guy “Naw, I just like young looking girls.”

Me “I have a feeling you hang out at schools during recess.”

With that I walked away. WTF is wrong with people these days!!!!!!!!!!! You have no idea how messed up I was after that.

Okay on to the main story. So when I worked at Ebony part of my job was to give the celebrities who came through tours.

Boss “Jessica, can you give a tour around 3”

Me “Sure! Who is it?”

Boss “Jaheim”

Me (singing) “You betta put that heffa first!”

Boss “I thought it was “woman” where is “heffa coming from”

Me “He’s kind of hood… I have the feeling when he was in the studio he really wanted to say heffa.”

Boss “You’re silly”

Actually I have this thing where no matter how uplifting a song is to women…. I like to make it degrading. Whenever the word “woman” “girl” or “Lady” is sung… replace it with one of the following: bitch, hoe, or heffa. I blame my constant listening of hip-hop for this. No matter how beautiful a song is… It must be destroyed. Try it sometime. Like when a song by Musiq or Rubben comes on… change the words. I promise you will laugh. ANYWAY.
As I got off the elevator to meet Mr. Ghetto love he totally played my life! For some reason a lot of staff were in the lobby to meet him. He took one look at me and said….

Jaheim “HEY! I know you!”

Me “No…. you don’t”

Jaheim “Girl stop! I know you. You were in our section at the lounge the other night! I don’t forget a face!”

(I’m so serious when I say… I have NO idea what he was talking about… and even if I did and had met him… why was he trying to make me look like some groupie….specially at my play of employment!!???!!!???! )

Me (not caring the staff was there… I had to put this dude in his place) “Naw nigga go on with that! I’ve never seen you in my life besides on TV and I don’t appreciate you coming here trying to put me out like that!” (keep in mind I was working at Ebony… not that it makes it better that I said the “n” word… but my “hoodness” came out and not a soul blamed me for it.)

The whole lobby was quiet.

Jaheim “My bad, my bad. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Me “It’s whatever let’s move on.” (I stuck out my hand) I’m Jessica and I will be taking you around today. Thanks for coming through.”

Jaheim “Now I feel bad… hit me with the handshake. I see you young professional.”

With that I began the tour. However, Jaheim was having IRS troubles (smh) so he spent the whole time sitting down YELLING at someone.

Jaheim (to me) “You they coming after my money! I have to handle this I have to handle this!”

Me “Do what you have to do. You need some privacy?”

Jaheim “Naw, I’m going to be too loud for privacy.”

I sat there and listened to the entire thing… which took about an hour. It was the dead of summer and this dude had on a white bubble coat and some Timberlands. I was hot just looking at him. I never finished the tour because by the time he was done with the phone… one of the editors was ready to interview him. He signed a poster for me (like I really cared… no clue where that is now) and I went back to my desk.

When I walked back to my area my boss came out.
Boss (mocking Jaheim) “HEY! I KNOW YOU!!!!!!!!!!!” (busting out laughing)

Me “I mean… was he serious???”

That’s when my friends/ coworkers James and LaToyia came over.

James “I mean… I knew you got invited out a lot, but I did not know you get it poppin like that!”

Me “That’s not even funny…”

James “For real though… how do you know Jaheim?”

Me “I DON’T! No clue what that dude was even talking about.”

James “Why you lying?” (James was always checking me like he was my man or something… Boy, BYE!)

Me “If you think about it… he would have only been in town for 2 days. Last night I was at the Sox game… and the night before that is when we all went and played pool… so there is no way I was at the club in his “section”.”

James (Laughing) “YOU RIGHT, YOU RIGHT!”

Everyone in the office started laughing about the situation. It still was not and still is not funny to me… but whatever. At least I had a good alibi. And for the record…. I would never try to get at a dude with braids… hello… you are like 35… CUT THAT ISH OFF!

I Rock Free Draws!

2009-03-12T18:43:00.006-04:00

My mom does not purchase ANYTHING unless it is 75% off. That was the rule in my house. If we wanted her to buy it… whatever it was it had to be on sale… and at 75% off.

Me “Mom, can I get this Tommy shirt?”

Mom “How much is it?”

Me “$20”

Mom “What is the regular price?”

Me “$40”

Mom “That is only 50%... you can get it when it’s $10”

That’s how my childhood went. I always ended up getting what I wanted… just months later. My mother also purchases things in bulk. If Walmart is having a sale on toilet paper… the whole family goes and purchases the limit. We go several times during the week until the sale is over. When I was really little mom would purchase first, then turn to me and my brother…. giving us coupons telling the cashier to ring everything separate at the sale price. I know the cashier thought we were crazy! I was 5 and my brother 3… handing her coupons telling her we would like to purchase tampons. My mom could run a corner store out of out basement.

When I was home over Christmas she woke me up at the crack of dawn one morning.

Mom “JESSICA GET UP! I NEED YOUR HELP!”

Me “Can it wait… it’s like 7am!” (My job in NY did not start till 11… I can’t remember the last time I was up that early)

Mom “No, they will be gone by then. Just throw some clothes on and come downstairs. This will only take a sec, you can go back to sleep when you get back.”

I put on some sweats and walked downstairs.

Me (rubbing sleep out my eyes and popping gum in my mouth) “What is it?”

Mom “Walgreens has a sale on blow dryers. They are $10. I have already been out this morning and bought 5. Your father is out now rounded some up.”

Me “ARE YOU SERIOUS! WHAT DO YOU NEED WITH MILLIONS OF BLOW DRYERS!”

Mom “Well, you know how they don’t last that long.”

Me “Mom, you don’t even blow dry your hair!”

Mom “You do. Now when your dryer goes out we will have some.”

Me “That happens like once every 3 years. I’m going back to sleep!”

Mom “Come on now! There is a limit of one per person. You will need to hit up a couple of Walgreens. There are 2 on 50th one over on 61st and then if you want you can go to the one over by Famous Dave’s.”

She hands me the stack of sale papers she collected for this project.

Me “These are Conair dryers….”

Mom “I know”

Me “They aren’t even GOLDEN HOT or REVELON! Conair is not that dope to be burning all this gas over.”

With that I left and went to Walgreens. I went to 2. These blow dries were Hot Pink. WTF. Who uses a hot pink blow dryer? This would be the reason why they were on sale. When I got home my dad was there. He was cracking up when he saw me walk in with the Walgreens bag.

Dad (Laughing) “How many did you get?”

Me “2”

Mom (trying to be upset!) “ONLY 2!”

Me “I’m going back to sleep.”

Mom "Does Charreah, Richelle, Dawniece, or Meek need a blow dryer for Chirstmas?"

Me "They good."

As I was laying in my bed I could not help but laugh at the time in college when Victoria Secret put a coupon in the free campus newspaper for a free panty. Me and my roommate made it a competition to see who can get the most undies. I gathered 75 news papers and everyday I went to the ONE Victoria Secret in the city multiple times a day. At the end I used all the coupons giving me a total of 75 pairs of draws. My roommate had 25. LOL... not only that, I had 75 of those little pink Vicky shopping bags! I bet they will never put a free coupon in a free paper ever again!

One morning after a wild college night out my friend who stayed over and I decided to go to the movies.

Me “The movie starts in an hour.”

Homegirl “I need to go shower and change.”

Me “Like you don’t wear my clothes anyway. I have soap and towels… no need to go home for that!”

Homegirl “I need underwear!”

I went back to my room and came back with a handful of brand new Victoria Secret Draws! LOL

Me “Girl, what you want! I got white, pink, red, black, polka dot!”

Homegirl (cracking up!) “I’ll take the pink ones!”

Me “Okay in the pink I got brief, boy shorts, bikini, low cut, high rise, and thong!”

Homegirl “LOL! You are stupid for having 75 pairs of new draws!”

I guess apples don’t fall too far from the tree. When mom found out about my Vicky scam she was excited!

Mom “That’s my girl! I raised you right! Nothing beats free panties! Can I get some?”

Me “I’ll trade you for some toothpaste and toilet paper… we are out!”

Mom “Deal.”

My brother, on the other hand, had a different response.

Brother "You really did not keep going to a store and coming out only with a free pair of underwear without another purchase."

Me "Yes I did."

Brother "Excuse my lang... but that is hella niggerish! HAHAHAHAHA"

I Need That Special Delivery

2009-03-11T14:43:00.002-04:00

(Yall know the above was the CUT! )

This next story I am dedicating to one of my best friends in the world. When you are blessed to find good people like Richelle you hold on to them. Since 8th grade we have been through everything together. She is one of the strongest and realist people I have ever met and I know my life would not be the same if she was not in it (we are not gay LOL, why do people always feel the need to say that?) I so killed my loving statement by adding that. Oh wells!

In a sense you can say I attended 2 high schools. I went to Roosevelt for a few periods, but the majority of my day was spent at Central Campus. This school was basically for students who knew what they wanted to pursue in college and allowed us to get college credit while beginning our majors early. I took Radio TV and Film.

Roosevelt was down the street from Central so I did not use all the travel time we received to get from school to school. I would use this extra 2 hours to go to the mall, get my hair done, or go home. It was pure comedy when I would come to school with a side ponytail… then return with cornrows or a fresh perm.

On the way back to Roosevelt I would grab fast food. While at my locker stuffing my face Mr. A (the FAT hall monitor/ school security) called down the hall at me.

Mr. A “MISS WILSON!”

I quickly threw the bag of food in my locker… I knew it was a rule not to eat in the hall.

Mr. A “I saw that. Open your locker”

Me “Do you have a warrant?”

Mr. A “Stop being silly and open your locker”

Me “What’s silly about me knowing the law?”

Mr. A “I see someone wants detention!”

Me “I can’t have a detention… I have late play rehearsal tonight and this is the only time I have to eat!”

Mr. A “I don’t care what you have to do… give me the bag.”

Me “I swear, you are like a food bounty hunter! Every time, no matter where you are in the building you sniff it out!”

I opened my locker and handed over my fries, nuggets, and apple pie. Mr. A had the nerve to proceed to eat my food in my face. Talking reckless.

Mr. A “You don’t need this anyway. Aren’t you on the track team? Now get to class before I write you up!”

Me (being funny) “I got to get my weight up for shot put! AND you took my Taco Bell last week! I don’t have money to be feeding you!”

Mr. A “Then perhaps you should stop eating in the hall. Have a good day and a lovely play practice.”

I watched as he waddled down the hall eating my food. I was pissed.

On my way to rehearsal, I ran into one of my homeboys who was madly in love with my friend Richelle. It was one of those situations where he was WAY more into her than she was into him. He was holding this raggedy dirty vase with this half dead carnation in it (I’ll go ahead and say carnation to make it better…. But it looked more like a dandelion to me). He was looked really sad.

Me “Why so down ole chum!”

Boy “Well, I wanted to give this flower to Richelle, but she is in detention again.”

LOL. Richelle was always in detention! She was not bad, but our school gave them out all willy nilly. She was probably in there for one of the following: being “tardy” (can I just say I hate the word “tardy” It offends me… like it’s a way for teachers to call you “retarded and get away with it), illegal parking or laughing at the inappropriate moment in class (at least those are the reasons why I ever issued detention).

Me “You really want her to get this flower huh?” This was the most bootleg looking gift EVER… and any chance I could get to embarrass a friend I take. After all, what are friends for?

Boy “Yea, I got to get going and cannot wait for her to get out.”

Me “I’ll walk in detention and give this to her for you!”

Boy “You wouldn’t really bust up in detention and give them to her!” (clearly, he did not know who he was talking to).

Me “I sure will! She will love the attention! And this vase and carnation are AMAZING! I would LOVE for a guy to give me a gift like this in front of my peers!” (Ummm FALSE!)

I grabbed the dirt stained mustard colored vase and the weeds and walked into detention.

Teacher “WHAT ARE YOU DOING????!!!! You cannot just disrupt detention.”

Me “I have a special delivery for Richelle.”

Richelle’s nickname was Big Bird because of her high yeller skin. But at this moment… ELMO suited her better!

I sat the flower on her desk as the whole detention watched.

Me “These are from your boy!”

There were some snickers…. Richelle said nothing. If looks could kill I would be long gone.

Teacher “Would you like to join us?”

Me (busting out laughing at myself for walking in there and giving my friend this wack gift from someone she could care less about all because I knew the attention and others thinking she was “going out” with this guy would be embarrassing!) “No, I will be leaving now.”

Boy “What did she say???!!!??”

Me “I think she was impressed!” (I’m SOOOOO mean!)

I proceeded to Harlem Shake in the hall singing my version of the Bad Boy classic “Special Delivery”

I can’t remember if Richelle talked to me the next day or not. But if you can’t humiliate your friends… who can you humiliate!

Can You Hear Me Now????

2009-03-09T02:30:00.006-04:00

Jo Jo (From K-Ci & Jo-Jo) Passes Out On Stage (around 1:45 mark)

Friday morning while watching Jojo pass out (on my blackberry) for the zillion time (see above video… when I get bored I watch it because it’s the most comical thing I have ever seen in my life. Between Jojo biting the dust, the raw emotion of K-Ci’s singing, and the bodyguard’s response… this clip is instant laughter and will forever be funny to me). ANYWAY, while watching it… my phone just broke. That’s right… the blackberry storm I have had for less than a week was broken. I could not even call out, receive calls or any data for that matter.

I decided to go to the Verizon on 34th street… I’m done messing with the Harlem location. As I was walking to the train… PLOP! Yea, bird dookie on my riding boots. You already know your day will be full of BS once you get shitted on.

I went home and changed my shoes. I got to Verizon and I’m highly upset because I this is a brand new phone and I’ve been in their store a total of 8 hours over the course of the week. I explained to the woman my situation.

Woman “Yea, this is a defective phone. Let’s get you a new one.”

Me “Thanks”

Manager “I hear you have been having phone issues?”

Me “You hear correctly. How is this the most reliable network? To keep it funky with you I have been at Verizon so many hours that yall need to put me on the payroll.”

Manager “Well, I’m sorry about that. I take it you would not like to take a survey rating products and service…..”

Me “Trust. I would give yall the lowest score ever.”

After spending an hour in the store (somehow they activated the new phone with my grandma’s phone number….. don’t ask) I walked around the corner to Ballys for a workout.

I was on the treadmill warming up before step aerobics when a guy approached me.

Guy “We need another player for our co-ed indoor soccer game…. Do you know how to play soccer?”

I have not played soccer since sophomore year of HS (unless you count when I was a councilor at the YMCA).

Me “Can I play a fullback or goalie?” (I was trying to do the least amount of work possible)

I joined the game and was having fun until they started getting extra serious. HELLO! We are not wearing protective gear. The next person to kick me in my shins was getting a beat down… before it got to that level…. I excused myself from the game.

Step class wore me out! I was wheezing up a storm. The 50 year old MIA 9 month pregnant woman was GETTING IT IN! She was the best in the class and put me to shame. I looked like the scene in “How Stella Got Her Groove Back” when Whoopi and Angela are on the beach working out… and Whoopi is in no kind of shape and just an overall hot mess…. that was me in this step class. 3 days later… and it still hurts to walk.

I decided to run some errands after the gym. I washed my hair there since it was a nice out… but I forgot my blow dryer so I just left it wet.

While in a store this awkwardly tall white guy tapped me on the shoulder.

Guy “Excuse me… have you been to the Caribbean spot on 34th and 10th?”

Me “No”

Guy “Really? I figured you being Caribbean you would have been there?”

Me “I’m not Caribbean.”

Guy “Oh, well, I thought all the pretty girls were from the Caribbean.”

Me “ You are mistaken. Why is it that the world has this fascination with people from “exotic places”? Is being black/ African American not good enough? Is it not pretty enough?

Quick Vent:

(Why does everyone feel the need to claim random stuff that is so far down the line? “My great grandfather is West Indian, My great great grandfather is white. Also, I have a great grandfather who is Jamaican”…. This quad-racial nonsense needs to end! People please cut this out! It is okay to be black. REALLY…. IT IS. And since moving to NY this is not the first fool to approach me on some you are pretty because you are _______ type stuff. Fill it in with Jamaican, Haitian, Nigerian, and Dominican because I have heard all of the above. I understand that to be African American more than likely means you have other stuff in the blood… and I get idea to identify when your parents are different races…but the great great grandparents…. GIRL/BOY BYE! It’s just getting out of hand. I blame Mariah and Tiger for this ish. )

Guy “I did not mean that… I meant….”

Me “What you meant was you got fooled by the wet and wavy.”

Guy “Excuse me?”

Me “My hair is wet… you mistook my kinks for curly tendrils… and I’m sure that these yoga pants I have on make my butt look rounder than usual…. So between the booty and the hair… you were fooled. But no, I am not Caribbean I am the product of the American slave trade.”

Guy “So where is the boyfriend? Does an Italian have a chance?” (I know since I said he was Italian… ladies you are thinking he was fine… but he wasn’t… just really tall with bad teeth…. In the words of grandma he was “built up all funny”).

Me “50 is with our son.”

Guy “50 cent?”

“Yes, my baby 50” (AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

That dude ran so fast from me! LOL! Ladies, if you don’t want to be bothered… tell the guy you are with a gangster rapper! Someone needs to give me a reality show and fast cause that right there was FUNNY!

That night I went to this lounge in the meat packing district with one of my homeboys. It was filled with men… my boy was upset… but it was good for me lol. Well, not really… these dudes were extra wack. The one guy that was cute…. I decided to approach. I have no problem being a female mack in a club situation…. Because I have no intention of really getting with this person. I think it’s lame to try to find love in the club and who really forms a lasting relationship out of that anyway? It’s all just sport here.

OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! This dude got to talking and his teeth looked like the talking Dunkey in Shrek!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Between that and the heavy Bronx accent (to the point I needed translation) … I excused myself extra fast! (but, "if i took one more drank imma end up F__ n youuuuuuu... is that what you wanna do shawty?" -T Pain)

Homeboy (laughing) “What happened?”

Me “Teeth complications. Close the tab… let’s leave.” (I was sippin on sprite and cran... not a drink since NYE for me)

We hopped a cab to this spot over on 30th and Park where a friend of a friend was having a birthday party.

Home boy “DAMN! I left my phone in the cab!”

Welp, so much for his phone.

The party was straight… but when you have to catch a train back uptown… check out is kind of early. I left around 2:40am.

This was my first time on the eastside this late (by myself with no one to split a cab to Harlem with)…. I took the 6 train to Grand Central station. I waited for 30 min for the shuttle until I realized the shuttle stops after 12am so I got on the 7 to Times Square then had to transfer to the 2 train… which was running local (stopping at every single stop). Since the 2 skips the part of Harlem where I live I had to get off at 135th street and take a cab the rest of the way home. I MISS DRIVING! And yall ask why I don’t go out on weekends anymore… because it’s like a 2 hour commute to the club and the drunk people on the train… I just can’t deal.

When I woke up the next morning…. my phone was not working. I threw on some clothes and went back to Verizon.

Woman “Sorry about that… your phone was programmed incorrectly.”

Me “Please get the manager.”

Manager “You look familiar.”

Me “I bet I do since I spend every waking moment in here. Look, you and I are about to sit down and you are going to write step by step directions as to the workings of this phone and also conduct whatever tests you need to do to make sure it functions something proper. I’m tired of this crap! CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW????????”

B!@$H Where's my Money?

2009-03-05T20:49:00.000-05:00

Last July my friends and I flew to Chicago to attend the National Association of Black Journalist Convention (NABJ). Who would have known this would lead to me being stalked by a cabbie.

To save some money I stayed with my aunt and uncle out in the suburbs. I lived with them for 8 months after graduating college so they along with my cousins were excited to have me back for a few days. My car was over at my grandmothers and did not have the time to get it until later… so I just had someone take me to the train station (or borrowed their car) when I needed to go downtown for seminars.

The 2nd day of the conference I overslept. When I finally woke up the house was empty. I called my aunt.

Me “Hey, where did yall go?”

Aunt “Sherry had a basketball tournament and everyone is here.”

Me “Yall took all three cars for that?”

Aunt “Oops… we did.”

Me “Can someone come scoop me and I drop them back off at the HS?”

Aunt “Well…. The tournament is in Joliet so I don’t think that can happen.”

Me “Okay cool, I’ll just call a cab.”

I got dressed and called a cab. While sitting outside waiting for it I noticed a white 1995 Oldsmobile Cutlass circling the neighborhood. About the 5th time around I realized…. this was the cab. WOW. Brotha man was using his own car as a cab service.

Me “HEY STOP THE CAR!!!!!!!!!”

Cabbie “My bad baby, I was confused by the street numbers.”

Me “That’s okay, can you just get me to the metra station… and fast.”

Cabbie “I don’t know the neighborhood… where is the metra station?”

Me “How are you a cab driver and don’t know where important locations are? You are lucky I used to live here and know…. What if I didn’t… this would be a HUGE problem!”

He begins to drive as I directed every left and right he needed to take.

Cabbie “You are cute.”
Me “Thanks”

Cabbie “What are you doing tonight?”

Me “Nothing that requires any of your concern.”

Cabbie “So you from Chicago?”

Me “Long story… would you please pay attention to the road. You ALMOST RAN that light!”

We finally get to the metra station.

Me “Thank you. How much?”

Cabbie “Well shawty since I did not know how to get here…. 10 dollars.”

Me “We didn’t even go 2 miles… whatever here” (I handed him a 20)

Cabbie “You don’t have anything smaller… I aint got no change.”

Me “How are you a cab driver… with no legit cab, no knowledge of the area… and NO CHANGE! Hand that 20 back please.”

I sat in the back and looked at this fool through the mirror.

Me “So what you want to do, cause all I have are 20s?”

Cabbie “Let’s go get change.”

Me “FALSE! My train will be here in 6 min and the next one does not come for an hour. I don’t have time for that. How about you write down your address and I’ll send you a check.”

He actually did this… please…. I’m not sending him shit.

Later that night I was back at my aunt and uncle’s getting ready to go out for the night when my cell rings.

Cabbie “Hey, It’s Leon. I gave you a ride earlier. I’m sitting in the driveway if you want to come out and give me my money. Perhaps I can take you out.” (WTF!)

By this time I had walked upstairs and my dad and uncle were looking at the weird expression on my face.

Me “I’m not home. I’ll get at you later.” I quickly hung up.

Uncle “Who was that?”

Me “That ghetto ass cab service I was telling you about earlier… he was sitting in the drive just now and told me to come out and bring him his money.”

Dad “HELL NAH! How do you get yourself in these situations?”

Me “Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh! You passed a gene that attracts HOTT MESS!”

3 weeks later I was at work when my phone rang.

Cabbie “Aye, It’s Leon. How are you?”

Me “Leon? Who? I don’t know anyone named Leon.”

Cabbie “I picked you up and took you to the Metra when you were in the Chi.”

Me “The dude with the Cutlass?”

Cabbie “Yes, that would be my cab. I provided you with a service and I have yet to be paid for my service.”

Me “Your service was WHACK!”

Cabbie “Would you please send me a check for the amount of $10. Otherwise I could just go to the house I picked you up from and get it.”

Something about this dude was not right! Plus, I did not want him tormenting my family!

I sent him a money order for $10….please he was not getting my checking account information. I have not heard from him since.

To my NY friends who always laugh at me for making sure the cabs we get in are certified…. this is why.

I never knew $10 was so serious! Moral of the story. Don’t get in a Cutty with a buster named Leon.

Blame it on the Al-al- al- al- Alcohol

2009-03-03T23:52:00.002-05:00

The other night I covered an event that was pretty much a bust. No big time celebs worth talking to. As I was putting my recorder away a random Joan Rivers looking woman tapped me on the shoulder.

Woman “I love your glasses!” (I had my Jay-z steez in full effect). I think I know you… aren’t you a reporter?”

Sigh… what gave that away? The recorder and notepad in my hand? (side-eye)

Me “Thank you. Yes I am.”

Woman “I am a celebrity dog trainer. I have been on many shows.” (she named a bunch I had never heard of). “Would you like for me to talk about Obama’s new dog!”

Well, if she had inside info on the first pooch… this night would not be a total bust.

Me (holding recorder to her mouth) “So, what can you tell me about dog Obama?”

Woman “I think he should name the dog CHANGE! We sure do need one and that name would be appropriate!” (insert cricket chirps!)

Me “Ummm…. Is that all you have to offer. Do you know anything else about the dog? Besides that it is a rescue Portuguese Water dog?”

Woman “It is SO wonderful that they are giving a wonderful home to a rescue dog! If the dog is not named Change… Alec Balwin told me they should name it Surplus! We sure need a SURPLUS!!!” (insert even MORE crickets)

Me “The NBC 30 Rock star told you this personally?”

Woman (taking a big swig of her drink) “But of course! I am a celebrity dog trainer!”

Me “What celebrity pups have you trained?”

Woman “That is confidential! But the quotes I gave you would be GREAT for your publication.”

GAME OVER. I’m mad I even entertained that CRAP. That was not funny to me yesterday… but today for some reason I am ROLLIN about that! Complete waste of my battery!

My Russian

2009-03-03T23:35:00.002-05:00

On Sex and the City Carrie Bradshaw had a Russian Luver that whisked her away to Paris! Monday, a Russian entered my life too!

Okay, mine came in the form of my new physical therapist…but after all those awkward positions he made me assume during my hour session… hell, he might as well be a luver. Why could I not get a female therapist? I hate having to bend over in front of dude so he can “evaluate my back muscles”. Not only that, but there is a language barrier that kicked my brain into overdrive trying to figure out what he was asking me.

Russian “Where it hurt?”

Me “My back?”

Russian “Yes, The back where it hurt?”

Me “Lower”

Russian “What caused it?”

Me “Well, if you read my file I have scoliosis… so for a while now…..”

I gave him a min. to review the file. I just did not feel like I should have to explain ALL that has been going on with my back. (read this post if you have not been following http://whatisthisvelvet.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-neck-my-back.html)

Russian “I see…. Would you like a gown to put on so I evaluate?”

Me “With the back open? I’m good… I’ll tuck the back of my shirt under my bra.” (This aint no free show!)

He felt down my spine for a while then had me move and stretch a bunch of different ways.

Russian “Do you know your right pelvis sits higher than the left?”

Me “Yes, one leg is longer than the other. I’m supposed to wear a lift in the left shoe.”

Russian “You don’t wear it?”

Me “HELL NAW! It makes my left shoe tighter and it is uncomfortable walking… not to mention it’s really special ed to have to wear a lift in your shoe.”

Russian “Who is Special Ed?”

Me “Nevermind…. No I don’t wear my lifts… I don’t even know where they are anymore.”

Russian “Also… your left side of your spine sits deeper in your muscles than the right. If you touch here you can feel in.” (Too bad I don’t drive… cause with this new piece of info I sure would be applying for a handicap spot!)

Me “So is that why it hurts so bad?”

Russian “That and you have practically no muscle mass back here to support spine. You must build muscle.”

He then practically body slammed me in the area that sits deeper. My eyes instantly watered!

Me “OUCH!!!!!!! WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR!”

Russian “You should do Pilates”

Me (giving him evil side-eye for his prior action) “At the suggestion of the doc I went to one class… I have another tonight.”

That night I went to a different Pilates session. We had to do it barefoot. THE ROOM WAS RANK. I thought I was going to pass out! What were these people ingesting for them to smell like that!

10 min after class was supposed to start in walked the instructor…. Dressed from head to toe in 2004 House of Dereon. HOTT MESS! She was swolled all up.

Teacher “I am Pafima. Welcome to advanced Pilates!” (WHHHAAAATTT!!!!! I THOUGHT THIS WAS BASIC! OMG I’m GOING TO DIE!)

This lady practically had me p-poppin on a handstand! This morning when I woke up I could not lift my hands over my head. I don’t know if I’m going to mess with Pafima anymore! But if Pilates will give me Michelle Obama arms… I’ll stick with it for a little bit.

Stuntin Like My Daddy!

2009-03-03T00:19:00.001-05:00

Okay. So those of you who kept getting texts and emails about my phone number changing… this is the story.

The only bill my parents were paying was my cell. I appreciated it… but it was time for me to boss up and get off the family plan.

Friday afternoon I went to Verizon on 125th street in Harlem. Kiss FM was doing a remote broadcast from this location as a closing to black history month… the store was packed and CRUNK! Plus, it was raining outside so everyone off the street was now in this little store.

Finally, when it was my turn I told the lady I wanted a new contract and to give me the curve. Because my number was under my parents, I was not authorized to keep it and was told I had to get a new number. I had her call corporate to see if this could be worked around. Mind you… the radio station was bumpin in the background so trying to conduct business was VERY difficult. They would not give me my old number so a NY area code I assumed.

That night I thought about it… I’ve been applying for new jobs and have been freelancing for a few other publications…. I NEEDED my old 312 number.

My parents and I had to three-way Verizon and they told us since the transaction was complete… there was no way to transfer my old number to the new phone. The next day I went back to Verizon to work it out. Sales lady kept telling me she could not do it… then I got an idea.

Me “What if I return the phone, cancel my service, then repurchase it under my old number, and get another contract. Then have you call my parents for permission and then we three-way corporate so we can sign off on the approval.”

I got out of the sales line and went and stood in the customer service line. This was 30 min.

Man “So…. You want to return the phone and buy it again????”

Me “Yes.”

Man “Why……???”

Me “Long story… the clerk gets me… can you just do it.”

Man “I don’t understand.”

Me “JUST RETURN THE PHONE!”

I would not have been this irritated if it was not for the fact I was in there forever the day before and today they were having a buy one Storm Blackberry get one free promotion. I swear all of Harlem was in there buying phones. The store was A MESS!

After the return… I had to get back in line with the sales lady, who was teaching an older Mexican man how to use his phone. THIS TOOK FOREVER!

When it was finally my turn…. Getting my old number was not easy. After many failed attempts…

Sales lady “You are going to have to switch this yourself.”

Me “If you can’t do it and you WORK here… how am I supposed to do it?”

Sales lady “You are going to have to call corporate”

Me “I don’t even have a landline. I am NOT leaving here without a functioning phone.”

Sales lady “Well come back here with me to customer service you can call from there.” (side eye.. forreal?)

Customer service had me on the line forever. I kept getting transferred. Finally someone worked it out. I repurchased the Blackberry curve and had my numbers transferred. I had been in Verizon since 2pm… the time was now 5 and I was on the way out the door when I got a call from my dad.

Dad “Hi Jessica, did you get the phone situation worked out?”

Me “Yes.”

Dad “What phone did you get?”

Me “The curve”

Dad “They have a deal buy one Storm get one free.”

Me “I don’t have the money for the storm and it’s not like I have someone to activate for the second storm.”

Dad “I want the Storm.”

Me “So what are you saying…….”

Dad “Go buy the Storm.”

Me (almost in tears because I had been in there for so long and he knew I was there) “YOU MEAN YOU WANT ME TO GO RETURN THIS PHONE AND GO THROUGH ALL THAT AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU SERIOUS!”

Dad “Calm down. Let me upgrade you!”

Me (wildin out) “YOU have NO idea what I have been through with Verizon today dad. I can’t do it again! That store is packed and then I have to have them switch all my info again!”

Dad “I don’t see why this is a big deal.”

Me “Because I am out the door!”

Dad “Just get the storm, I’ll help you pay for the phone itself…. then mail me the other one.”

So there you have it. I went back in line to return the phone. Because this was my second time returning a phone… they had to call corporate to wave the $35 stock charge for exchanging. THIS TOOK FOREVER!

At 6pm I left feeling horrible. I am not a tech person… I felt like that scene in the Sex and the City movie when Samantha handed Carrie the Iphone to use to call Mr. Big on the wedding day. I DID NOT KNOW HOW TO USE THIS DAMN TOUCH DIAL STORM! I was so frustrated!

When I got home I had to read how to make a call. NEVER have I not been able just to call someone from a phone before.

Dad “So how do you like it!!!??!!!”

Me “I HATE this! I don’t know how to work it! This is soooo frustrating!”

Dad “calm down… there is a video on youtube explaining how to use the phone.” (side eye… this phone is doing the most! Now, you know it’s complicated if there is an instructional video!) I feel so bad. My friend Ant is the first number in my phone… I kept calling her by accident! LOL. (sorry gurl!)

I watched the video and emailed my friend Arion from my laptop (cause I could not figure out how to text her or call her) who has a Storm.

Me “Why is there a $3 extra charge to use voicemail?”

Arion “HAHAHA that’s for visual voicemail.”

Me “WTF is that! I just need to retrieve my messages!”

I finally figured out the phone and called my dad the next morning.

Me “I’m getting the hang of it.”

Dad “I told you. It’s pretty cool. We’ve never had the same phone.”

Me “Yup, I’m stuntin like my daddy!”

Dad “Fo Sho!”

Me “Allllllready!”

Bueller

2009-03-01T23:57:00.003-05:00

So I covered the premier of the Broadway play Guys and Dolls tonight. In the press line I was standing between a girl from Seventeen Magazine… and one from Vogue.com

Seventeen (dressed and looks like a 14 year old) “Like I am so happy to be here!”

We were outside in the cold and it was snowing… if I did not need the money this would have been one of those time I would have declined the job.

They had the reporters standing over the subway vent things (like a sewer system) I was glad I wore flat boots, but the Seventeen chick and Vogue girl had on heels.

Vogue “I cannot believe they have us standing on this. There is a chance we can fall in!”

Secretly I wanted to fall in. Then I could sue the theater, the pr firm who arranged this setup and the city of New York. “I’VE FALLEN AND I CAN’T GET UP!”

Me “Well just stand to the side until the celebs come and then plant your feet. Just be careful not to move.”

Vogue (turns to a friend she brought with her) “Can you take my credit card and go buy me some flat shoes. Make sure they match my outfit!” (was she serious with this?)

She was. With that her friend took off running towards Madison Avenue.

Seventeen “So, I don’t know any of the celebs on the list.”

Me “That’s too bad.”

Seventeen “I don’t watch TV”

How are you an entertainment/red carpet reporter that does not watch TV? Complete and utter blasphemy!

This was not really an A list thing. Most of the “celebs” that walked buy I did not talk to.

Seventeen “Do you know who that is?”

Me “Ana Ortiz”

Seventeen “Who is she?”

Me “She plays the Hilda the sister to Ugly Betty on Ugly Betty.”

Seventeen “Oh, I guess I should talk to her?”

Me “Ugly Betty is a prime time show… perhaps you should.” (Can I get her job?)
Ana come near us and Seventeen starts asking all these stupid questions like what is your favorite broadway play? Would you ever do broadway? YAWN! Then it was my turn.

Me “Can I just say you are fab in Ugly Betty! You have this glow about you! What are you using!”

Ana “Well I am 6 months pregnant but we are hiding it on the show!” (She goes on about her pregnancy and all the anti stretch mark creams she uses and blah blah blah blah) Not wonderful quotes, but better than all those damn Broadway questions.

When I was done asking all my questions… seventeen turns to me.

Seventeen “Wow, you really got her to open up! I would have never thought to ask her that.” This girl was wack.

Me “May I ask how long you have been at Seventeen?”

Seventeen “Well, I’m from Ohio. I go to school here. One of the editors is a family friend.” (side eye)

Meanwhile Vogue chick had just received her shoes. Now she felt like she could work.

When red carpet was over… we were told “Thanks have a nice night!” FALSE. I wanted to see the show. How do you have me covering an event that I can’t even go inside.

Me (to PR lady) “Excuse me, where is my ticket?”

PR “We did not give press tickets” GRRRRRR

That’s when a man overheard this exchange and just handed me a ticket… said he had an extra. I thanked him and went inside. FRONT ROW CENTER!!!!!!!!!!! I was seated right next to Matthew Broderick… Mr. Ferris Bueller. But most important…. Husband to Sarah Jessica Parker… Star of my favorite show SEX and THE CITY! I must have been sitting in her seat since she was not there. WOW the seat that would have been Carrie Bradshaw! I felt special. I asked him to adopt me… but he just laughed.

Me “Wouldn’t it be fun to have 2 Jessica’s at home!”

Matthew “Ummm… it would be confusing.”

Me “We could work it out.”

Matthew “Ummm no”

Can’t blame a girl for trying!

Grab a Towel Let's Work it on Out!

2009-02-27T00:17:00.006-05:00

(I never thought I would one day be hating on Tocarra!)

The truth hurts and today I got bitch slapped by it! So my friend put some new pics up on facebook. There I was… looking extra overweight and sitting in front of a plate of pancakes smothered in syrup! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!!!!!! Now I know the real reason why dudes in the club have been calling me Jennifer Hudson! It's not because we are both brown with nice smiles.

I ran and got on the scale that I have been avoiding for quite sometime now…. My mom was right… I’m 20lbs heavier than I was this time last year! Damn.

The Dr. told me that my back problems could possibly be worse because of a rapid weight gain. I was told I needed to cut some lbs… but in the same sentence doc instructed not to do any cardio because of the way my bones rub together (lack of cartilage). How am I to drop weight and I cannot workout or lift anything over 30 lbs? So… I just tossed her advice to the left and have continued to eat my chips and salsa and watch TV all day.

My eating habits have been terrible… New York is the culinary capital of the WORLD! Between that… and my cheap diet which now consists of noodles and sauce (I refuse to call that ish spaghetti) 2 for a $1 honey buns, peanut butter, popcorn, fried chicken and waffles, cereal, candy… yea… I guess that’s the problem. I've killed my metabolism.

This afternoon my homegirl hit me up on g-chat.

Homie “We are all meeting at Virgil for happy hour… you coming?”

Me “I can’t drink, but I’ll come chill” (sober since Jan 1st... medication will do that lol)

Homie “ GREAT! I just put the pics up on facebook from last weekend”

Me “brb I’ll go look.”

That’s when I saw those Jessica McFatty pics. Looking a lil TOO happy to be at brunch.

Me “I CAN’T COME OUT!”

Home “LMAO, Why the change? What happened!”

Me “I’M GOING TO THE GYM! RIGHT NOW!”

With that I put computer to sleep. Threw some workout and shower stuff in a bag and went to the train. One reason I have not been working out is because my gym is on 33rd… right by where I used to live… I’ve been too lazy to go over there.

The gym has changed a lot since last July.

Me “May I have a towel please”

Trainer “We no longer do towel service” (damn recession!)

Me “So then why has my membership fee not gone down?”

Trainer (Laughing) “I would not know”

Me “Well I’m going to need you to get someone who does!” (We always tryna get something for free LOL)

Trainer “You forreal?”

Me “As real as the Korean hair on Beyonce’s head!” (I love talking crazy!)

A manager came out and gave me the number to corporate. I will be calling to get a deduction on my membership first thing in the morning!

I’m in the worse shape of my life. After 30 min on the elliptical and an arm rotation on the weights… I WAS DONE!

So… this whole weight thing is NOTHING new to me. I’ve really been dealing with it since puberty. That’s why when people get on Oprah, Jessica Simpson, and Janet… I get offended because I know how hard it is… and I’m not a public figure.

Where to begin. Well, playing sports I was always told I would be faster if I did not have a booty. I danced from age 2-15… around 14 I noticed my teacher gradually moving me to the back…. the “big girl” row for ballet and point…. Then with jazz, tap, and funk… moved me back upfront. Around that same time my homeboys started referring to me as “thick”. I modeled in high school (print ads) and there was always an issue because I had a “chubby face”… being that some jobs I did not book based off my headshot because they did not realize my body was much smaller. In theater I had to lose weight so I would not always be cast as someones mom….. When I was pursuing broadcast journalism it was suggested I lose 10. Oh, and my mom is a health nut. Was I ever REALLY fat… NO, I’m just shaped like a black girl. And I have a sweet tooth. That’s all.

The one time I did “lose control” was my freshman year. Living in athlete housing I kicked it with the football players who were always inviting me to roll to eat at 2am. All those late night trips to waffle house and Whata Burger took its toll. Plus we had a Pizza Hut in the campus cafeteria… and the late night poker games where we played for candy instead of money. Most people gain the freshman 15…. well…. I put on the freshman 35. I’m an over achiever what can I say. It took most of sophomore year to get that off… and now… I’m in the same predicament yet again. But instead of doing crash diets, pills, or slim fast (sorry Dawniece after my slim fast binge to get into my cheerleading skirt… I can’t do it again) I’m actually going to workout and cut the access amounts of junk. Since graduating high school I’ve been everywhere from a size 15 (freshman year) to a 4 (graduated college at that. Yes, Asad, Meek, Dawniece, and Richelle you told me I looked a HOTT Crazy Mess that small... and I vow never to do that ish again!). 50 lbs of weight ups and downs since 2003.

I know I’ve said I was going to start working out before… but by me actually taking the time to write this post and alert whoever reads this about something personal… I’m forreals!

This is not so much for cosmetics, but if in fact my back would feel better with some lbs off… then it’s for the best. Most people know I’ve been stressed out for the past year… and yes I do eat my feelings… but I’ve got to put the Crumbs cupcakes, fried calamari, Starbucks Rice Krispi Squares, and Sour Patch Watermelons down and take some responsibility for my actions. So if you are really my friend, please encourage me. If I decline to eat out… don’t take it personal. It’s only temporary until I gain control over my willpower again.

Health is important. I know I have a history of going crazy by limiting myself to certain food groups and working out hardcore… but honestly with the whole back thing… I have to take it slow. With that said I am on a track to a healthier me and I am doing this reasonably. 10 lbs by summer. I’ll worry about the other 10 later. Now I must try to get some sleep tonight. I have to get up early (10 am LOL) for Pilates.

Oh and to everyone on the 3 train today. I’m sorry. I now know to bring my own towel to the gym so I can shower. My funk was on a 100 million trillion!

(and don't try to run to facebook and look up pics... they are blocked! "I'm smarter than the average bear!") ;-)

NoSpace

2009-02-24T22:01:00.000-05:00

You know that saying curiosity killed the cat… if I were a cat… I would be DEAD… or at least one of my nine lives would be gone.

So a home girl from back in the day hit me up recently on facebook and said she had been looking for me forever on myspace. When I told her I was not on there… she explained that EVERYONE was and that it is good for “networking”. I decided to create a page. Then I realized something… most of my friends on myspace were my same friends on facebook… what was the point of this? That’s when I decided to play detective and look up people I went to high school with.

WOW. I saw it all. Girls who now strip, people frontin all extra hard like they are thugs in a music video… pulling all of their money out of the bank so they could pose with it. Pure foolishness!

I found out my ex has a baby… different baby moms than the 1st. Her name is Mz. Bitch… her blonde hair looks like she washes it with “Let’s Jam” she is on myspace for “Networking.” (side eye) she had a count down on her page to when she gets her license back. It gets worse. You know how people feel the need to post their ultra sound pics on facebook? (I DETEST THIS!) This chick (age 31 who lives on “shot gun alley” and works at Apple Bees) put the C SECTION pics on her page! GROSS. In her blog entries she has talking a lot of ish. The ones where she puts A.C. on blast are my personal favorite… but the one where she took the baby to get “a line up”…. HEFFA JUST SAY HAIRCUT!!!! You are NOT down just because you learned some terminology. HAHA I was entertained for about 2 hours.

I was having a blast being noisy! All this juicy gossip for me to see! That’s when I got an email saying that I had received a message from someone named Lee. I logged onto myspace to check it. AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

There she was… a big beastly Queen La in Set It OFF looking “female” telling me that I was fine and that she would like to get to know me better. She included her personal email address….. ummm…. FALSE!

I have been Virtually VIOLATED!!!!!!!!!! I quickly tried to close my account, but myspace makes this hard to do. All these pop ups appeared asking me as to why I wanted to close my account. Then more pop ups explaining how I can change my settings. I declined it all! I closed the account and then received an email saying it may take up to 48 hours for this process to be complete. My friends have all been laughing at me.. saying “You deserved what you got” really? I deserve the shame of being sexually assaulted via the internet! YALL AINT RIGHT!

I’ve learned my lesson. I will no longer try to snoop in the business of the myspace folks… I’ll just stick to being in the business of my 800 and sum “friends” on facebook.

On another note. I was thinking. I need my own show “J Wils Road to Redemption”. TI takes the typical shock approach… showing wanna bees the consequences to their actions by visiting prisons and cemeteries for a few min. I want to make my subjects live the experience. I would go to small cities like Des Moines and gather girls who think it’s cute to be “loose”. I would actually bring them to New York and give them a Harlem pimp and put them to work for the night. For all the “thugs”… I would take them to Compton and make them participate in an actual gang initiation. WHAT FUN! That show would never air though… too much liability for the network. If you REALLY think about it… that mess would be too funny.

Got Me a Cadillac, Cadillac, Cadillac.. Got me a Cadillac Car... OOH OOH (gotta love dream girls!)

2009-02-24T00:22:00.004-05:00

(78' Lac)

(83' Dodge)
My family moved to West Des Moines from Eat Moline IL when I was 10. My mother’s job transferred her… so my father quit his job in order for the family to move. This is why no man could ever top my father… that’s love right there.

While my parents were getting their financial situation in order they bought my mom a new car for her to drive to work and my dad drove this beat up 1983 dodge that my parents named Susie. I was embarrassed to be seen in that thing… and my dad knew it.

Me “Dad, you mind letting me off on the corner when you take me to school?”

Dad (getting my point) “Are you sure you don’t want me to pull up in front?”

Me “VERY sure!”

Now, before you think I was a totally rotten kid, I went to school with rich white people. I was the only black kid in the 4th-6th grade and already had some issues I was dealing with because I was “different”. Even though I knew we weren’t poor and that this car was temporary…. to my friends… it looked hood and the last thing I wanted people thinking was that I was a poor black kid. Looking back on it I should not have not cared what they thought… but after all…. I was 10.

My dad had promised me he was going to pick me up from soccer practice in my mom’s car… but on this day she had to work late. I heard the car coming from around the corner.

Teammate (laughing) “Your ride is here!”

That’s when I kicked the ball hard and aimed it at her face. It made contact… she cried and my coach yelled at me. I had to run 3 laps around the park before I could leave practice.

Once I was done I got in the car. My dad and brother saw what I did to the girl, but dad was laughing too hard to yell at me.

The ceiling of the car was made of cloth and it hung down. Dad had not stapled it back up yet, so I had to hold it up so it would not rest on my head. Since mom was working late dad was taking us to get dinner.

Back then Hardees (now Carls Jr. in most places) sold the best chicken and biscuits ever! As my dad was pulling out of the drive thru… the car died.

Me “Dad, stop being funny!”

Dad “I’m not… the car stopped.”

He got out and pushed as I steered us out of the drive thru. The car magically started… then stopped again once down the street. There we were. Three black people sitting on the side of the road in the suburbs eating a bucket of chicken next to a busted car. I had just come from soccer so my hair was all over my head, my brother had stains on his shirt from his afterschool program… and dad was just looking really angry and cursing up a storm. We looked a HOTT MESS!

That night when we finally got home I was too happy to hear my mom say that we were getting a new car!

Well… it was worse. They bought a 1978 gold and brown Cadillac for $200 (Side-eye). Too bad Pimp My Ride was not out then… cause I sure would have nominated this car. My dad had the same whip as an 80 year old deacon. At least I did not have to hold the interior up in this car.

Praise the Lord… we’ve come a long way since those days!

Fashion with Verdi

2009-02-23T00:50:00.005-05:00

(Above Robert Verdi)

New York Fashion Week. It’s the most wonderful time of the year! (depending on who you are lol) I felt like it rained most of the time… and because of the recession designers really scaled back on their shows… some such as Betsy Johnston and Vera Wang pulled out entirely. Even Kimora did not put on her usual tranny festivities.

Speaking of tranny I was sitting at home watching Tyra… learning about how some single women are so desperate to be in relationships they marry gay men (Oh Tyra!) when I got an email from one of my editors over at a celebrity gossip mag asking me to cover a party. I can always use the money! But the one thing that bothers me about doing it is this… you knew all day you wanted to send someone out…. Why are you emailing me at 6pm to attend a red carpet event that starts at 8pm. COME ON PEOPLE! I have to get glam-a fied AND take a 45 min train ride downtown. Plus it was for Fashion Week…. can I at least get some notice so I can go cop a new dress?????

In New York you learn to play it off. When you can’t go shopping the best thing to do is throw on all black and rock ubber accessories. I had on every piece of gold jewelry I could find and gave myself the smokeiest eye my Chanel shadow could give me. Since I no longer work full-time I have not wrapped my hair in a min… detangling took about 40 min… grimy I know but at least I’ve been brushing my teeth.

I was told to get interviews from Robert Verdi (I love this man! For those who don’t know he’s a celebrity stylist… I’ve interviewed him before… he’s ALWAYS fun!) Kim Raver, and……. MS. JAY ALEXANDER FROM AMERICA’S NEXT TOP MODEL!!!!!!!!!! The event was for this foundation that provides money for up and coming designers to showcase their clothing during fashion week. They are responsible for putting some of fashions best like Zac Posen and Derek Lam on the map.

I had no clue who this Kim chick was… But I did not have time to research to find out. The event was at Greenhouse… NY’s first eco friendly club…. Ummmm… this going green thing is going too far. How are you an eco friendly club? Are the glasses made from recycled materials and the dance floor biodegradable? WHO CARES! Anyway, As I was walking up to the door to pull out my ID and credentials…. I realized something…. I FORGOT MY WALLET IN MY OTHER BAG! DAMMIT!

Bouncer “ID?”

When in doubt fake your importance

Me “Oh no, I don’t need ID… Is Tasha the PR Rep inside? She is expecting me. I’m covering this event for her. (as I was saying this I pulled my recorder out as proof I was a journalist)

Bouncer (Lifting the rope) “Come on in”

I was greeted at the door by some reps and I introduced myself. I love covering events because people kiss your ass in hopes that you will give them a cover story or something… when in fact I have NO control over that and out of everything I write the mag might just use two sentences as a caption to a picture… but I let them think I really care. There was no formal press line so I was directed to the VIP area… due to medication I can’t drink so I sat there and turned down all the free cosmos that were offered. But I DID tear UP the food. The mini quesadillas, spring rolls, and ravioli bites were OFF THE CHAIN! Now it was time to figure out who this Kim chick was I was supposed to interview. When in doubt… ask a gay guy,

Me “ OMG… did you hear Kim Raver is supposed to be here!!”

Gay guy “ I KNOW she is just FAB in Lipstick Jungle!”

That bullshit still comes on? Who knew? Welp that’s really all I needed to know.

PR Chick “Our guests of honor will be here in a min Jessica and I’ve set up a private section for you to conduct interview! Is there anything I can get for you…..”

Me “Yes hon, Can you get some more of this quesadilla things (mouth all full) they are fire!” (If you know me… I keeps it real no matter what LOL)

My interview with the kim chick went pretty good. I had to play it off. I asked her all about her fashion week experience… her personal style…. Her involvement with tonights event… and then came the Lipstick Jungle questions.

Me “So, What’s next for your character in Lipstick Jungle?”

Kim “I think she is really looking to become a mother. But struggling with that because she is a really intense career woman and loves her career and I think women today can relate to that. We are in an amazing time where women are really hitting there stride in so many different ways whether that’s actors, women in business it’s a great time for women. But they are also struggling with wanting to get married and have children but its happening so I think it’s a really great thing for Nico to go into and also trying to decide between hottie Kirby and very hottie Griffin!

Me “OH MY! DECISIONS DECISIONS! It’s hard when you got it like that!”

Kim “ That’s Right! Decisions Decisions! It’s a win win either way!”

I ended the interview there… I was not trying to out myself for not knowing who the hell this woman was! I take it "Nico" is who she plays on the show... LOL! I wish that was video taped. I know my face had the "WTF look" going on!

Next stop was Robert Verdi! We talked about everything from his love of Tyra Banks, to where the fashion industry was going to Chris Brown and Rihanna to WTF is going on with Kanye West’s hair LOL. MS. J came over in the middle. Can I just say he is NOTHING like he is on TV. He talks like a regular dude off the street. He was dressed like a normal metrosexual man… only with a perm and tapper. I was kind of disappointed.

Robert “Jess! So I’m having a swag party tomorrow! Give me your card and I will email you the invite! YOU MUST COME OVER! It’s at my house. Promise me you’ll come!”

Me “But of course!”

I left the party around 11. I still had to transcribe tape and write a story all to be in by 7am. The parting gift for the party was a bottle of Merlot Wine. Around 1am I got the invite from Robert. My first personal invite to a semi-celebrity NY home! I was excited! The event was from 12 til 4 pm. My friend Kim is always looking for a reason to get up from her desk at InStyle so I took her with me.

This man lives in a condo over on 30th and 7th! His place was SICK, DOPE, ALL THAT AND MORE! IT WAS HUGE! Home theater playing Devil Wears Prada and everything! Kim and I agreed the place is at least worth 4 million. I can’t even begin to describe the décor… but it looked funky like someone who dresses most of Hollywood. Ms. Jay and his 7 ft 20 in self was there too. The food was amazing. I got really shy at this thing… I felt kinda like some little girl that was just saved from the projects and taken into the home of a billionaire. Kim had to keep telling me to calm down… eventually I did, but for one of the first times in my life I felt completely out of my element… then my inner drag queen spoke up “HONEY! YOU BELONG HERE YOU FABULOUS FLY THANG! YOU BETTA WORK!”

I was cool the rest of the time chumming it up with Robert and some other designers that were there. Kim and I got HUGE gift bags when we left. The True Religion Jeans were like a size 3 though…. Womp womp… but we got TONS of drink mixers, beauty products, spanx lol, books… etc. Those bags were at least 40 lbs! 40 lbs of freeness… GOTTA LOVE IT!

Welp, that was some of my Fashion Week… beats the last one I did where I practically worked the fashion closet the whole time (those of you who work fashion closets feel my pain) THE WORST!

Off topic… but I really wanted Taraji to win an Oscar tonight. She still looked fab though… and Beyonce had a new look…. LOVED IT! Still does not make up for me not getting to see what Rihanna would have rocked to the Grammys… but it will have to do

Hood Rats+ Gun Shots = Drake Relays

2009-02-20T00:36:00.002-05:00

(James wins top spot on my list of greatest mug shots of all time)

Drake Relays is the Midwest version of the Penn Relays or the Texas Relays. It’s the one time a year Des Moines, Iowa ever has parties or concerts. Back in the day the parties were dope and headliners like Nelly would come. Now in days the parties are boo and has been artists like Black Rob or one hit wonders like Lil Boosie come.

I actually attend the track events (most people hang outside to bee seen) because I was in track 6-12th grade and enjoy watching the sport. But as far as the parties and stuff… those days are long gone…for some reason Jr year of college I let someone drag me out.

The Val-Air Ballroom is the most hoodrat infested place on earth… and that is where the big party was. When I walked in my ex’s brother and his hoodlum cousins and friends were there.

Brother “J! You can’t speak no more?”

Me “Whatever, you know I’ll always have you.”

My ex’s brother was always in and out of juvey and I had made it my personal mission to get him on the right track. He had just turned 18 so the next time he messed up…. Off to be with the big dogs. He’s a pretty boy (looks just like the character Evan Ross plays in the movie ATL) … I don’t want to even imagine what would happen to him in the pen.

Me “Have you been going to school? You know I’m still tight with faculty up there and I’ll just call and ask.”

Brother “Yes mom, I’ve been going.”

Me “Loves ya babes!”

Brother “I love you too.”

With that I said what’s up to the rest of the felons and assumed my position in the section of the party for people who did not want to be there. I was actually having a good time talking to old friends who were really trying to do some stuff with their lives when the sound of gun shots polluted the air and everyone started screaming and running. I was knocked to the floor and out the corner of my eye I saw one of the hoodlum crew members stuffing a gun in his pocket and they took off. No one was seriously injured.

When I got outside I saw my ex’s brother being cuffed and put into the back of a squad car. I yelled out his name and he turned to look at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a face look so scared.

My ex and I had not been on speaking terms for a couple of months… but now I had to set our beef aside… this was bigger than us. I called.

Me “ OMG A.C. !”

A.C. “ J! Are you at that party???!!!!”

Me “Yea, I’m here… your brother is being put in a squad car… with everyone that could possibly bail him out!”

A.C. “I know! I’m broke as hell! I got fired again from Subway.” (How the hell you get fired from making sandwiches? Cutting the six inches too big? He sucks at life!)

Me “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it. All the dope dealers yall know… I’ll get my money back by the end of the night. He needs to sit in there for a min though and let that mess set in. I’m going to run my girls home and then I’ll go to the jail.”

As I was taking my last friend home A.C’s ringtone went off on my phone. (Kelis’ “I Hate You so Much Right Now”)

Me “What’s up?”

Trick “Bitch I know you aint callin my man! I seen this number in his call history saved under “Love Dove!” (He’s never called me that corny ish to my face LOL)

Me “You must be mistaken coming at ME like this! I don’t know who you think you are and if that is your man then you need to ask him why I’m “Love Dove” in the phone. Take it up with him!

Next thing I hear is A.C. yelling in the background “Jessica she’s crazy! I don’t want her!”

Me “No! YOU are crazy for sitting there and letting her dial my number!”

I ended up having to pull over on the side of the road so I would not get in an accident as this trick and I had it out. I ended up getting hung up on. Then A.C’s mom called my phone.

Moms “Jessica Honey! That girl is a nobody! She is one of A.C’s sister’s friends who stalks him when he is over here. He does not even like her! Now he is upset and just took off walking. I don’t know where he went! Please come over here so we can settle all of this. I miss you!”

Me “A.C walking off is the least of your problems…. Your other son is sitting in jail right now. He was with Jere and all of them!”

Moms “MY BABY IS IN JAIL???!!!! TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!”

Me “I don’t know the logistics of it all, but I’m going down to the station to get him out. Hold up I’m getting another call.”

Operator “You have a collect call from the Polk Country Jail. Would you like to accept?”

Me “Yes”

Brother “JESSICA! YOU HAVE TO COME GET ME OUT!!!!!!!!! I didn’t mean no trouble!”

Me “You have no idea how mad I am right now. Between you, your brother, and some rat he had all up in the phone I am too through!”

Brother “Talisha? That girl is a runner! Anyway! You know you’ll get your money back tonight! Just please come and get me out! I’m too old now for juvey!” (lol remember when runner= hoe?)

I went and got A.C’s brother and took him over to his moms… A.C. was sitting outside when I pulled up… still trying to play like o’le girl was a “stalker”. I got out the car with my Waiting to Exhale game face on.

Me “I am not the one!”

A.C. “I KNOW! But she is a NOBODY! Look… She is not even here!”

Me “Only cause you knew I was coming over here with your brother. Why I am partaking in this ghetto ass drama I don’t even know!”

A.C. “BECAUSE THAT’S LOVE!”

Me “ OH HELL! What’s love got to do with it?”

A.C. “Can you chill out so we can have a conversation!”

Me “We have NOTHING to converse about!”

A.C. “I CAN’T STAND YOU! You are tripping and don’t even know the facts and won’t let me explain anything! You are a piece of work!”

Me “YOU JUST GOT FIRED FROM MAKING HOAGIES! YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT WORK! And I’ll tell you this… that’s not the first time you’ve had someone ring my phone. You got one more time and that’s not a threat it’s a promise!”

(By this time everyone in the house was outside ROLLIN at my Subway joke which only got A.C. even more heated)

With that I drove off. It would be another 3 months before A.C. and I would talk again. And yes, I got my bail money that night. As far as A.C.’s brother… I don’t know what he’s up to these days. But I’ll always have mad love for dude… I just hope he’s doing the right thing and hanging around the right people. NO MORE DRAKE RELAYS FOR ME…. EVER!!!!!!!!!

Homecoming Week

2009-02-19T02:05:00.003-05:00

("Stop, drop, shutem down open up shop! Oh, No, THAT'S A ROUGH RIDERS ROLL!")

I might be one of the few people who will admit that they had a BLAST in high school! One year during homecoming week I realized the importance of communication.

My BFF Dawniece and I were in charge of making the morning announcements. We took this job very seriously (yeah, right). WE CLOWNED our way through this. ANWAY during homecoming week we had to announce the theme for the next day so students could dress appropriately to show their school spirit.

Over the intercom

Me (extra corny) “Hey Dawniece!”

Dawniece “Hey Jessica!”

Me “And good morning Roosevelt Rough Riders!” (Our mascot was hot)

Dawniece “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

Me “It’s wear your house shoes day!”

Dawniece “That’s right Riders! So make sure you rock those house shoes!”

Me “And be comfy all day long!”

As soon as we walked out the office we were bombarded with kids who did not know what house shoes were.

Demetri (everyone has a smart nerdy kid named this or something close at their school) “Um, Jessica what are house shoes?”

Me “They are shoes you wear in the house… you know… soft shoes.”

Demetri “You mean slippers?”

Me “Are those house shoes?”

That’s when Dawniece and I realized… the black students knew what house shoes were.... I guess this was a cultural thing.

Demetri “The word “house shoe” is not in the dictionary!”

Me “Well have you looked?”

Go figure. He pulls a dictionary out of his bag and looked it up. It was not there… but slippers was.

The rest of the day was the battle of the house shoes vs. slippers. I HAD ENOUGH! At the end of the day I got back on the PA and make the same announcement substituting house shoes for slippers.

The following day we got on the PA and announced the theme would be “Old school day”.

I had the perfect outfit. I was going for an Aaliyah/ Left Eye look. Sagging my overalls only snapping one strap, a throw back jersey, and some Reebok pumps all… while slicking down my baby hair.

School started at 8am… but if you wanted a parking spot you had to be there at 6:30. That’s when we would congregate in the cafeteria and talk trash about what everyone had on (kids are evil). As I walked in I saw people had a different idea of what “old school” meant. Some students were dressed 50’s with poodle skirts and stuff… some 70’s…. but my BFF and her sister were OFF THE CHAIN. They ran into the building dressed like some runaway slaves!

Me “Dawniece! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”

Dawniece “I took it back old school!”

Me “Yea, you took it back to when blacks weren’t allowed to be in school!”

That’s when my history teacher walked in wearing an Iowa State Hoodie.

Teacher “Good Morning Jessica! Thanks for planning a day I could actually participate in. I’m wearing my old school!” (insert crickets chirping here)

The next day was pajamas day… which is forever banned at my school. Some hoochie from this “gang” called clitoris (I’m not making up the name of the gang… anyone who attended the “Velt” from 01-05 can attest to this foolery) decided to wear some lingerie straight from the clearance section of Ru 21.

Welp, so much for homecoming week.

My high school was off the chain! The parenting class had a “bring a child to school day” The purpose was to show students how difficult being a teenage parent would be. Sounds like a good idea? Not when most of the student body just brought their OWN kids to school…. HAPPY FREE CHILDCARE DAY! Let’s also keep in mind how deadbeat teenage dad had to watch as the new boyfriend walked hand in hand with baby moms and the little one into econ class. Yea, once the community got wind of that…. it was NOT a good look for the school.

I'm Sick and Tired of Being.... TIRED! Part Dos

2009-02-18T01:10:00.005-05:00

Okay this is crazy and it’s mind blowing to me how my roomie sleeps through all of this. Some lady in the apartment below is getting Chris’ed (prior to Feb 8th I would have said Ike’ed)

It is now 1:07am… the upstairs people are still having step team, tumbling, and bowling practice (I’m being sarcastic) and now domestic violence is coming from underneath. All I hear are the chilling screams and cries of a woman… the couple is yelling in Spanish… so I can’t understand a thing. Glass is breaking and I hear a lot of banging. Neighbors are now beating on the apartment door asking her if she is okay.

I feel like Kim Wayans character on In Living Color “I aint one to gossip so you didn’t hear it from me!”

I don’t know what be goin on in this building! Last night fried chicken was all on the floor in the hallway. The police came a few weeks ago because someone was busting beer bottles on the stairs. One of our landlords has his jump offs in and out. I need to move into a building with more white people…. cause real talk the police would have BEEN here by now. Poor lady has been screaming for the past 30 min. I live right across the street from the police station (one of the reasons I moved in). People are just ignoring her… shoot… I’m blogging about it.

Okay, so if you read about how I can’t sleep because of my upstairs neighbors… let me continue.

Sunday I wrote them a kind letter politely asking them to keep it down during sleeping hours. I slid the note under their door. They slid it back saying “Am sorry. Thanks for note. It’s not we.”

A few hours later the nice African college student who sometimes helps me carry in my groceries and his father came to my door. I did not know they lived above me.

Father “Thanks for kind letter, but it is the people above us and their wild children making all the noise.”

He went on and on about how he’s talked to the woman and how they need to be moved into another building. I don’t think her noise would travel to my apartment… but whatever. I thanked him for talking to me and I wrote to the woman 2 floors up. She came downstairs and we talked… there is no way it is her making the noise. She told me the African family has not once came to complain about her and that she was going to have it out with them. SOMEONE IS LYING AND I WILL NOT REST (literally) UNTIL I FIND OUT WHO! I’m just too fly to have dark circles and bags under these eyes!

The fight has now moved into the hallway and is echoing LOUDLY. I purchased some $7 earplugs yesterday. They are the kind they use at the shooting range. Ummmm I need a refund cause I still hear noise.

Welp, 5-0 is now in the building... I hear them on the talkie thingy. Intersting... the upstiars foolishness has now quieted down. This might be my chance to sneak in about 10 min of shut-eye

A TV Dinner and Some Unwanted Advice

2009-02-17T19:06:00.004-05:00

By now you have probably noticed the train and the laundry mat are 2 places I do not like to spend much of my time. The last I must add to this list is Pathmark… the most ridiculous grocery store on the planet.

Let me set the scene. Imagine a store where the lines are wrapped around the store perimeter, shoppers curse out the cashiers, the fruit looks like someone bashed it with a stiletto, and you have to double check to make sure someone did not pre-open your chips. Oh and we must not forget the constant blasting of the Keyisha Cole CD over the PA system.

I experience some kind of drama every time I go. I once overheard this foolishness between a manager and employee.

Manager “When you get done with that please stock that shelf”

Employee “I DON’T COME TO WORK TO WORK!” (It took everything I had not to ask dude…. “then what the hell do you come to work to do?”)

Another time I was in the cereal aisle minding my own business when a woman of about 42 with a mustache thicker than Geraldo Rivera popped up in my face out of nowhere.

Mustache woman “Hey, how about you let me buy your stuff with my food stamps and then you give me the cash outside.”

Me “I’m good” (ummm first of all… that is a federal offence. Second, I’m supposed to give you hard earned cash for some stamps the government gives you for FREE? FALSE! TRY AGAIN!)

Mustache woman (with an attitude) “WHY NOT?!”

Me “Cause I don’t want to. Now if you would excuse me I need to continue shopping”

That’s when she did something I did not expect. She cursed me out like I just damned her mother!

Mustache woman “You hateful arrogant ass mutha fucka! Think you better than everyone else, you aint better than shit! In here thinking you the shit when you aint! Fuck you!.....”

She went on down the aisle screaming at me!

Last weekend I was in the frozen food section buying TV dinners and getting my jam on to the PA system (they were playing Busta “Arab Money”) when an older woman came up to me.

Woman “Are those on sale?”

Me “No, they aren’t ma’am.”

Woman “Are they filling?”

Me “They are okay… then again I snack a lot so….”

Woman “Well, why my dear? Do you not know how to cook?”

Me “I don’t cook (different than saying I can’t) … and these are fast… just pop them in and go.” (what’s with the 21 questions?)

Woman “You don’t have anyone to cook for?”

Me “Well, I guess not. I’m single… no kids…. These work for my life.”

Woman “That’s what’s wrong with you career girls these days! Poor baby don’t know how to cook. Pretty girl and single. Just sad. What a shame! (Did she really just try to HOE my life ???????? and in PUBLIC!)

It got worse…..

Woman “You know… life is nothing unless you have someone to share it with” (okay Billy D. Williams in the Diana Ross classic movie “Mahogany”)

Me “No disrespect, but I’m working hard in order to lay the foundation for my future family. Have a great day! And the mushroom pizza and enchiladas are my favorite meals. You wont be disappointed.”

Will someone from Bethal Missionary Baptist Church please come get Sista Jenkins and explain to her that nothing is wrong with getting an education and some work experience in before the family. And then ask her to find the scripture which says that eating TV dinners is a sin. All these trifling females out here and I’m the one she chooses to lecture.

Mind you… there was a woman in line damn near pistol whipping her kids for trying to help her sack the groceries.

Abusive mother “Stop touching Shit! I can’t stand you little fuckers!”

Kids “Mamma we just trying to help you!”

Abusive Mother “You can help by shutting the hell up!”

And that my friends is why I won’t be cooking for no one until I’m READY!

Eat Fresh!

2009-02-15T20:41:00.002-05:00

I went to Subway tonight... I need to lay off the Chinese. As I was about to pay for my order I noticed the sign that said “ONLY CASH NO CARDS TODAY”. I went to Subway because I did not have cash on me....the true reason for not getting Chinese. As I was about to leave to run to the ATM… the brotha behind me offered to pay for my sandwich.

Me “Thank you, but it’s okay. I will just go and get cash.”

Man “It’s okay I got it.”

Me “Are you sure?”

Man “It’s only a 5 dollar footlong….”

With that he bought my sandwich… told me to have a wonderful night and we went our separate ways.

As I was walking home I could not help but to smile… it’s not often people do nice things for you… let alone strangers. I did not have to give him my number or engage in an awkward flirting session. And it’s sad that we are programmed to think that when a guy is being nice… he has ulterior motives. What’s worse is that this kind act shocked me so. We live in a world where we are conditioned to do for ourselves and not expect help…. or kindness for that matter.

When I got home I threw my keys on my nightstand. They landed next to my wallet. WHOOPS! I didn’t have a way to pay for my sandwich anyway! "God is good all the time and all the time God is good!"

(Don't a free meal always taste better!)

Happy V-day!

2009-02-14T16:41:00.005-05:00

I've been waiting for just the right moment to post this! Check out Justine Simmons with her man the good Rev sounding like a female T-Pain all while working out a form fitting red dress. We see you gurl!

Here is one of my fav-o-rite scenes from Living Single. Kyle Barker wasn't really my type... but after this song... he could get it... and by that I mean a passionate hug and a hi-five ;-)

I'm Sick and Tired of Being.... TIRED!

2009-02-12T03:58:00.001-05:00

The time is now 3:35 am and I am not an angry black woman, but an IRATE black woman. I have a huge day today and the 300 lb man and his pet elephant that live upstairs have decided to play a game of one on one… but instead of a basketball, they are using a shot put. I am now in the living room listening to the R&B station on the TV to drown out the sounds. But I’m really not feeling the late night groves of Luther and Tony Tony Tone… I’d rather be in my OWN bed!

I have no idea who lives above me other than the fact that they are loud as hell no matter what time of day. Last night they decided to pull out the leaf blower and early this morning I was awakened once again by their harmonica…. Stevie Wonder they are not. About 5 min ago I was going to march on up there and ask them kindly to shut the fuck up, but then common sense kicked in. This is NY… who knows what I would be walking into.

People have NO courtesy. Yesterday I decided to go see “He’s Just Not That Into You.” Like most sista’s, I have hips. There is nothing worse than being on the train and another thick hipped sista sits next to you (especially when the car is full of available seats). Now we are in the seat sitting tighter than the face that is Vivica Fox. I thought I was going to have to rub Crisco between us to get out!

Once in the theater I had to move seats not once, not twice, but THREE times. The first couple I was sitting by… they were trying to make a baby once the movie started. …. GROSS. I moved… and the females behind me wanted to chit chat about their personal relationships during the film. I moved. The next seat felt wet… so I moved. Finally a perfect seat! That’s when dude behind me decided to go in mad hard on his popcorn! Crunching all extra hard like it was manna from GOD. I had ENOUGH!

Me “Yo SON???!!!” (I starred him down like you would a 5 year old cutting up in church)

He quieted down and I was finally able to enjoy the movie. Like I said… What’s up with the courtesy these days?

I am now beating on my ceiling with the broom. Stay tuned, this might get interesting…………………

What You Say?

2009-02-11T01:16:00.001-05:00

One evening I felt like picking an argument with my boyfriend (now ex) just for the fun of it. It had been bothering me that I had yet to meet his mom… so I picked a random night to voice my concerns.

Me “So… Why have I not met your mom?”

A.C. “Here we go. You don’t need to meet my moms.”

Me “Yes I do. You’ve met my family… and you even came to church with me so, you have met everyone who has ever had a hand in raising me…. What’s the deal? I’m not good enough to meet your mom?”

A.C. “It’s not that… my mom is just a little different… that’s all. I don’t know if you two will get along….”

Me “Is it because I’m black?”

A.C. “J! My father is black, my mom does not have a problem with black people.”

Me “Well, I’m the first black girl you’ve ever dated. I don’t get it. I practically live over here with you and your brothers… your son… I treat and love like he is my own…. I’ve even met your baby moms mother… so why can’t I meet your mom?”

A.C. “My son loves you, my brothers love you isn’t that enough?”

Me “Nope… cause it’s the women who really matter… I’ve yet to meet your sister too.”

A.C. “Okay I will arrange for you to meet my sister.”

Me “I’d rather meet your mom… and this relationship is not going any further until I do.”

A.C. (really upset with me) “Whatever. Can we finish watching What Not To Wear… I can’t believe you make me watch this BULL SHIT with you every Friday. If this does not show I love you… then I don’t know what would… cause I’m out here looking suspect.”

Me “What’s suspect is that I have not met your mom.”

A few min later A.C’s brothers come in. We were all the same age (A.C. was 4 years older than us).

Brother “Aye J! I have to run by my moms to pick something up… would you mind taking me over there?”

A.C. had sold his car a few weeks prior and I was the only one in the house with a car (and a licenses) so I was running everyone around.

Me “I’d LOVE to take you to your mom’s”

A.C. “J, give me your keys… I’ll take him.”

Me “I don’t let other people drive my car… it’s too risky.”

A.C. “You for real are just going to walk up in my mom’s house?”

Me “You know I’m not the one to sleep on an opportunity!”

A.C. was salty and refused to come with…. So his brother and I hopped in the car and drove over there. When we walked through the door… all eyes were on me. A.C’s sister… her boyfriend, their 2 kids, and a few cousins were there.

Brother “Mom! A.C’s girl is here!”

Moms “Tell her to come out on the deck.”

I walked out there to find A.C’s mom… lighting a blunt, drinking from a brown paper bag, and cursing everyone out. I now understood why he did not want me to meet her. We were brought up totally different…. And our moms… don’t even compare.

Moms “So you’re the rich girl A.C. is seeing… you’re cute.” (this was awkward)

Me “I’m rich in spirit ma’am… and that you for the compliment.”

She offered me a seat and we got to talking. A.C’s sister and 7 year old niece came to the deck to join us. We talked for about an hour and then ended up watching an episode of the Jamie Foxx show. By the time I left the whole family loved me!

7 yr old niece “Mom, I want to be like Jessica when I grow up… she’s really cool!” (I was loving this)

When I got back to A.C.’s he was on the phone

A.C. “Yes mom… I know she’s great… I won’t mess up… I was going to come with her, but she left me….yes down to earth….she knows she’s funny… smart… yes…..I was going to bring her by but she’s always busy…. Driven yes….. okay put Kevin on the phone…. What’s up cuz!... yea she was bold for going by herself… but that’s how she is…. I know man… I WON’T MESS UP! Yea… mom invited us over for dinner tomorrow.”

Me (beaming) “I take it my visit went well… what time is dinner?”

A.C. (laughing) “I underestimated you… I should have known you would not turn your nose up on my people. I can’t believe you watched Jamie Foxx and started cracking jokes.”

Me “Hey, remember something…. never be ashamed of your mom… at the end of the day she brought you into the world. And anyone who thinks they are too good to be around her… then they just are not the person for you.”

The next day at dinner the house was packed. Everyone was having a good time. A.C.’s mom made the best collard greens and mac and cheese I had ever tasted (I didn’t know white people even cooked greens). Then the phone rang.

Moms “I’m just over here… yea got a house full of niggas….” (DID SHE JUST SAY THAT?)

Everyone turned to look at me and A.C’s cousin… the only 2 “full” black people in the room. I turned to the cousin.. but he was too into his greens to care.

Moms “You have a problem Jessica?”

Me “No problem… can someone pass me the pepper?” (I was trying to let it slide)

Moms “I laid there and had all these nigga kids… so I have earned the right to say the word.

This was one of those moments in life I didn’t know what to say. I looked over at A.C…. who could tell I was really uncomfortable. He was giving me the “I hope we can continue to be together” look.

Moms “I said it in a joking tone Jess….”

Me “I know you did…. But it’s like…..”

A.C. “J, lets go”

Me (bracing myself to no longer have a boyfriend) “I come from a long line of child rearing black women. My mother was in labor with me for 28 hours… the dr.’s pronounced her dead to my father. She did more than carry me… and to this day she has never referred to me or my brother as a niggas. So, the fact that you feel you earned your right… your logic I have an issue with.”

The entire room got quiet.

Moms “A.C….”

A.C. “Before you get started she has a point…..”

Moms “Let me finish. This is the first girl you have ever brought in my house who has any kind of class and integrity. I like it! Jessica, you have earned my respect.”

I let out a huge breath of relief and everything in the house was poppin once again.

Moms (giving me a hug) “Wow, your mom must have had a tough labor.”

Me (laughing) “She is reminds me every time we get into it.”

Eat the cake Robyn Fenty, Eat the cake

2009-02-09T23:40:00.002-05:00

I used to shadow a prominent journalist in Chicago whose career no one could touch with a ten foot poll. From scoring interviews with iconic figures such as Martin Luther King to hip hop moguls like Jay Z… one could only dream about being in the industry for over 40 years.

Journalist “Jessi!” (because he was like 80 I never corrected him)

Me “Good afternoon sir. How are you?”

Journalist “What are you doing my dear”

Me “I know you want me to say I’m writing… but to be honest I’m at Lawrence’s Fishery over on Roosevelt and Canal eating a pound of shrimp and drinking a grape pop.”

Journalist (Old man laugh) “Well can you get here in about 2 hours. I am conducting a phone interview and I think you would enjoy listening in.”

Me “I sure can! Who are you interviewing?”

Journalist “I’ll tell you when you get here… your old school music loving self will enjoy this!” (older people find my love of 60’s music endearing)

Me “Ah, well I know Aretha Franklin always request that you conduct her interviews… soooo I am going to assume it’s her.”

Journalist “It’s not Aretha… but you will get a KICK out of this Jessi!” (Only he would be on a first name basis with Aretha Franklin.”

I hung up and the investigative journalist in me got to thinking. He is known for dropping clues as to what I would be doing… hmmm…. I would get a “kick” out of this… and a music artist. OMG! MICHAEL JACKSON! That “kick” is a signature move! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MJ is my idol and whether you know me or not… you just know I love me some Michael. 2 hours later I went to the journalist’s office.

Me “Thanks for letting me listen to your Michael Jackson interview!!!”

Journalist “Is that who you think I am interviewing? No, Jessi… I’m doing a story on Ike Turner.” (oh, that kind of “kick”…. Ike… Joe Jackson… I was close right?)

Me (acting like I’m beating myself up) “Tina Turner… Proud Merry Ike?”

Journalist “That would be it. And please refrain from slapping yourself during the interview.”

With that he got Ike Turner on the phone. Ike is actually a very accomplished man. He did a lot for the music industry. Then of course Journalist asked him about Tina and the movie What’s Love Got to Do with It.

Ike “"If I owe anybody an apology, that would be Tina," he said. "I put her through hell with other women. I regret it today, but I can't undo it."

Ike then went on to say that the movie was not an accurate depiction and that there are two sides to every story. That’s when he said something to this affect:

Ike “I never hit Tina… just shook her up a bit… maybe slammed her… but not everyday”

RING THE ALARM! HOLD UP WAIT A MIN! Did he really just say that? As if shaking her up and suplexin her ass was alright, just as long as he did not clock her???? Journalist quickly reminded him of the fact that he did admit to hitting Tina in a People Magazine article back in the early 90’s.

Journalist “and I quote you “All the fights Tina and I had were about her being sad about something," he said. "I get real emotional if you're worrying and don't tell me what it is. Then I can't think about nothing else. So I'd slap her or something like that” end quote.” Are you retracting this confession?

Ike got upset and talked about how that movie ended his career. For all of eternity he would not be remembered for his mark in the music industry nor the fact that he is in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame…but for a movie that portrayed him as an abusive monster.

When the interview was over I felt bad for Ike Turner for a second. He had a point. Despite his musical success… he will always be known as Ike “Eat the cake Anna Mae” Turner. A few months after the phone interview… Ike Turner passed away.

The public can forgive a celeb with an addition, criminal record, weight issues, sex tape… and as R Kelly has proven loving underage girls, (I know you want me to say something about my MJ but I WON’T DO IT!) but a woman beater…. Not so much.

This whole memory was brought on by the recent events of Chris Brown and Rihanna. That would suck if at the height of Brown’s career… he was found guilty and had to fall from grace. Imagine that E! True Hollywood story… it would only cover like 2 years of his fame. But the freaky comparison about the whole Chris/Ri Ri and Ike/Ti Ti… both had a huge drama on a major award show night.

Remember these quotes from the movie:

Tina : “So what you gonna do? Huh? You can do whatever you want to do, I don't care. But I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. Those people out there tonight, they come to see me. You can do what you want to, shoot me, Pistol whip me.”

Tina “My husband and I just had a fight. I'm supposed to open at the Academy tonight. I have 36 cents and a Mobil card, and if you just give me a room, i swear I will pay you back.”

(What’s Love Got to Do With It came one today… oh the irony)

Jokes aside abuse is not okay. “Anna Mae If you die I'll 'keel' you, hear me bitch I'll 'keel' you!” Yeah Ike……….you only shook her up. (insert side-eye here)

Train Drama

2009-02-08T17:47:00.001-05:00

Photo credit: Charreah Jackson. Mark Anthony for the movie edit LOL

At 11pm I was leaving Ruby Tuesdays in Times Square to get one the 3 train. When the train doors opened there was a drunk man… passed out…. stretched out on the floor. Everyone shifted to one side of the car… leaving many seats vacant.

Dude was knocked out and harmless. I was not standing all the way back uptown. Another girl felt me on that so we stepped over the man and took a seat. That’s when this scary man blocks the car doors and signals to the police.

The police came and yelled for the drunkard to get up. He was too gone and could not form a word. Passengers became irate… one thing about New Yorkers… NO PATIENCE.

Woman “Who the f*&^% got the cops! This is New York people! If the police were called every time there was someone passed out on the train WE WOULD NEVER GET ANYWHERE!” (valid point)

Man “I GOT THE COPS… WE SHOULD NOT HAVE TO RIDE LIKE THIS!”

Woman “THEN MOVE OUT MY CITY!” (I swear… the world is nothing but a giant 8th grade)

Man “WHAT IF SOMETHING WAS REALLY WRONG WITH HIM!” (another valid point)

Woman “GOOD THING THERE ARE F*&^kn sumira-TANS (translation Samaritans) LIKE YOU LEFT IN THIS CITY! I FEEL SOOOOO MUCH SAFER!”

Man “YOU ARE CRAZY!!!!” (I knew what she was going to say next)

Woman “I GOT YO CRAZY!!!!!!!!” (that line never fails)

Another officer gets on to calm everyone down

Woman “We could have almost been home by now!”

Officer “We are getting him off the train… then you all can continue your evening. We need your cooperation.”

The woman got quiet…. I wonder if it was because she noticed what I did… this officer was kind of on the fine side. I have a feeling she got off the train and went to holla… cause when we got moving… she was gone! (Guess she realized Valentines Day was approaching)

-Sigh-….It’s days like this I miss my car………

You Remind me of my Jeep

2009-02-06T18:11:00.003-05:00

When I was younger I’d be out with my dad and people would stop us for autographs… you see… they thought we were Laura and Carl Winslow from Family Matters aka The Urkel Show. Did they realize that was a make-believe family? If Laura and Carl kicked it off set…. that would just be WEIRD!

After an Iowa Hawkeye football game my father and I went to Apple Bees. A table full of middle aged white women started giggling and staring at my father.

Dad “I wonder what’s their deal?”

Me “I don’t know, but I’m bout to bust a cap! Desperate housewives… looking all hard at my daddy… while I’m sitting here… and my moms at home probably slaving over a hot stove after a long days work…disrespectful heffas!”

Dad (ignoring what I said) “I’m waaaay too old to be a member of the football team.” (In Iowa City people assume that if you are a black man you play on the team and ask for your Hancock)

Me “Maybe they think you played back in the day and came back for the game or something.”

That’s when one of the women came to our table. I starred her down like she just ate the last shrimp out my pasta.

Woman “I don’t mean to bother you and your daughter, but can I have an autograph?”

Dad “Who do you think I am?”

Me “He aint nobody!... sorry dad, your someone to me… but you are not famous. Look lady, I’m the next big thing so If you want mine…….”

Woman “Like OMG! I am SOOOOO embarrassed! You aren’t Al Roker from the Today Show?”

Me “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

Dad “I’m no longer wearing these glasses and am going on a diet!”

With that the lady walked away salty. She REALLY wanted to be Al Roker’s jump- off/ bust- it- baby… LOL!

Me (wiping tears of laughter) “So Al, you mind putting some of that big time weatherman money in my account!”

Dad “Keep joking and I’ll take money OUT of your account!”

A while back I was on the train with my roommate when a man with wild gray hair tapped me on the shoulder.

Man “You have a hint of Tina in your smile…”

Me “Who is Tina?”

Man “Turner”

Roommate “You will NOT say TINA like you are on a first name basis with Tina Turner!”

We both laughed. I wanted to tell this man he had a hint of Albert Einstein in his hair… but I left it alone.

We got off the train and walked onto 23rd when a dude came up to us.

Dude (to me) “Aye ma, anyone ever tell you you look like a young Lil Kim!”

My roommate buckled over with laughter. I ignored the dude and we continued on to one of our favorite night spots… Barna on 26th and Park.

By now you are probably asking yourself what slutty creation I was wearing. I had on a pair of high-waist wide-leg jeans and a grey v-neck t-shirt that zipped in the back. No hoochie here!

Once in the club we started talking to a group of young men. We were having a good time….. until one decided to open his mouth.

Young man (to me) “You got a nice style about you… lookin like Serena Williams!”

I WAS DONE! NOTHING about the Williams sisters is stylish.

Me (to my roommate) “What is up with this tonight? Everywhere we go people are saying I look like someone else… can I just be me!”

Roommate “I don’t know… but this is funny! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

Me “I’m going home now… and if someone stops to tell me I look like Remy Ma I’m shooting myself! (I’ve heard that one too)

People, whether you are trying to spit game or simply start a conversation… don’t do it by comparing the person to someone or something else! They might get offended!

Everyday I'm Hustlin, Everyday I'm Hustlin

2009-02-05T20:46:00.004-05:00

Today I decided to do some window shopping at Urban Outfitters in Union Square. Just as I was coming up from the train I was approached by some little kids.

Kid “Want a fruit rollup?” (How did he know I have a weakness for fruity chewy candies?)

Me “Sure, how much?”

Kid “2 for 2 bucks!”

Me “So… one for $1”

Kid “No… you have to buy 2”

Me “Do you realize I can go buy a box of fruit rollups for like $2.75… and 8-12 come in a box?”

Kid “No”

I saw I was going to have to hip some kids to game… this is why they needed to be in SCHOOL and not on the street selling candy.

Me “How many have you sold?”

Kid “Not a lot” (he was oh so sad)

Me “Try selling one for 75 cents…. most people will hand you a buck and then they will feel better receiving change. You will still make a pretty nice profit. The economy has people tripped out… so they are unlikely to want to purchase fruit rollups in groups of 2 for $2. So let’s try it! Go up to that lady over there with the Uggs and big purse…. people who wear those ugly expensive shoes can afford a fruit rollup… just make sure it says “Uggs” on the side and not “Air Walk” or something.”

Kid “Excuse me would you like to buy a fruit rollup for 75 cents?”

Lady “Sure, why not!”

I winked at the kids and went on my way. I was proud of my good deed… helping the kids hustle.

Game Over

2009-02-05T00:05:00.006-05:00

It’s true. Kids don’t pay attention to race until it’s pointed out.

The time had come. I was leaving Elementary heading to Jr. High! 6th grade was finally over! Our teachers had planned a weeks worth of activities to celebrate the occasion.

All four classes got together and our teachers explained the rules to a game we were going to play.

Teacher “okay kids! We are going to play name that baby! All of your parents have submitted a baby picture of you. We are going to flash each of the pictures behind us on the overhead screen. When you know the answer just yell it out!”

Sounds fun…. Right?

One by one pictures where shown on the screen and my peers and I got to guessing.

All “ That's Julie!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Teacher “Is that you Julie?”

Julie “Not Me!”

And then the class would try again and again. Some were easy… others were hard… but for the most part you really had to examine your friends.

Then my pic goes up…… the only black kid in the WHOLE 4-6th Grades.

Most of the kids yelled “JESSICA WILSON!” (there were like 10 other Jessicas so last names were in order… but it was not necessary to use it at this moment)

The rest of the kids “ZUBIN” (the Arab kid)

And there you have it. This game was no longer fun, but drew even more attention to how different I was. I shot my teacher some serious side-eye for this one.

Teacher (sort of laughing) “Well, majority guessed Jessica Wilson… is it you Jessica?”

Me (wanting to slap her) “Yes, it’s me.”

That night I went home and told my parents about the wack and racially insensitive game we played.

Mom (laughing) “I picked out a picture from when you were just born… seeing that you had Jaundice you were a little lighter. I thought that would trick your classmates.”

(Jaundice is not a disease but rather a sign that can occur in many different diseases. Jaundice is the yellowish staining of the skin and sclerae (the whites of the eyes) that is caused by high levels in blood of the chemical bilirubin. The color of the skin and sclerae vary depending on the level of bilirubin. When the bilirubin level is mildly elevated, they are yellowish).

Me (upset) “Yeah mom! SOME THOUGHT I WAS ZUBIN!”

Mom “The Arab kid with the bifocals?”

Me “That would be him….”

My parents got a hardy laugh out of that one! Looking back at it… that was really funny. Racial profiled in the 6th grade… now that’s a HOTT MESS!

Peanut Butter Jelly Time

2009-02-04T03:34:00.005-05:00

I got my dorm experience a little later in life. Like… 9 months after graduating college. My freshman year at TCU I lived in athlete housing (I did not play a sport...just lucked out) which was basically like living in an apartment. And while at U of Iowa I always opted for off campus housing.

I moved to New York Christmas day 2007. I did not know anyone here… so my boss recommended that I move into the Webster House. The Webster House is basically an all female dormitory with 300 residents ranging from 18 to 80. Most of them being from other countries… majority Germany. The place is ran by a diverse group of foreigners who speak little English. Webster is equip with communal showers, one cable television for all residents to watch, and a cafeteria that served the nastiest food to ever hit my taste buds. The majority of the woman who live there are either in the city interning, modeling, retired, or like me… just needing a place to lay their head until they figured this NY thing out.

Rent is $250-280 a week (depending on the internet package). Your room (according to my mom who works in prisons) is the size of a cell. It has a twin bed, a small dresser, sink, and a lamp. There is no room for mini fridges, microwaves, and irons… which are banned. Routine checks were done to make sure you did not have them. There is no kitchen… just the cafeteria… that only served meals at awkward hours when I was at work. There was one microwave… the line to use it was long… and it needed a cleaning… I never used it. The number one rule in this place is NO MEN…. They wouldn’t even let my dad and brother help me carry my bags up when I moved in. On the plus side the location was great… right on 34th street near Madison Square Garden.

You could request for kitchen staff to prepare you a brown bag lunch. I was trying to save money so I could get the hell up out of there… so I decided to have them make me a PB&J. If you wanted lunch you had to pick it up between 7 - 9am.

My alarm went off at 8:55am. I waited 7 min before I was able to get on the elevator. When I got to the cafeteria it was a few min after 9am.

Worker “Sorry, you’re late”

Me (wiping sleep out my eyes) “I know. I apologize. The elevator was running really slow”.

Worker “Sorry cannot get lunch.”

Me “I know it’s in the refrigerator right behind you. You guys make it the day before. Would you please just get my PB&J.”

Worker “No”

This was not a good way to start the morning. $260 a week for this hellhole… the least they could do was give me my sandwich.

Me “You are right in front of the fridge. Why are you being mean?”

Worker “I say NO can help you. You don’t understand?”

I KNOW he is not talking to me like I’m 5! He walked to the back to start the dish washer. That’s when I took it upon myself to jump over the counter and grab my bag out of the refrigerator. As I was turning around my friend Candace walked in. She was doing an unpaid internship at MTV… girl gotta eat!

Candace “Aye, while you back there get me some eggs and a muffin!”

I grabbed tray and dipped the ice cream scoop in the eggs and got to serving.

Me “How much you want girl?”

Most entertainment careers (unless you work for a news source) do not begin the work day until 10 or 11am…. because we are 3 hours ahead of LA…. so that’s why Candace and I rarely made breakfast.

Candace “You’re the best, I don’t know why they stop serving breakfast so early.”

Just as I put her muffin on the plate the worker (now very irate) comes running out the back.

Worker “cuse me! What are you doing?! Get from back here!”

Me “I came back here to get my PB&J since you were too hateful to grab it for me. My friend is hungry, so I got her some breakfast.”

Worker “This is big problem. Come with me to the office now!”

Me “Ummmm no. You see… I’m GROWN and this is not high school. I have the right to a sandwich that was premade for me. You are making a bigger deal of this than what it is!”

With that Candace and I left the cafeteria with our food. I went to my room to get ready for work. As I was coming around the corner in my towel fresh from the shower… 2 ladies were at my door.

Woman “We need to talk to you about your taking of food.”

Me “My food plan is covered in this ridiculous amount you all are charging me to stay here. You act as if I stole the PB&J… my name was on the paper bag. I understand that I was late, but if yall had more than 2 elevators for these 18 floors that house 300 people… I would have been on time. Now if you would excuse me… it is cold in this hallway and I have to be at my desk in 30 min.”

With that I pushed them aside and opened my door. One of the women walked in behind me.

Woman “You need to clean it up in here… too many clothes lying around.”

Me “My clothes don’t fit in that hole you call a closet… I can only fit 2 winter coats and 3 pairs of shoes in that thing!” (I had been there for 3 months and was still living out of my boxes and suitcases…. which added to my frustration with always feeling like I was a visitor in the city and not living here)

Woman “You have 2 weeks to pick up your clothes…otherwise we are kicking you out!”

COULD THEY DO THAT?

Me “I will have my attorney look into that.” (anytime I say this I am referring to my boy Asad who is currently studying for the bar)

Woman “I’ll be back in two weeks. Get rid of the clothes!”

I was HEATED! All this drama over some GOV-MENT peanut butter! I called my dad.

Me “Dad, can I hold $3,000” (Like my name is Hilary Banks or something)

Dad “WHAT?”

Me “I need first and last months rent so I can get up out of here! I can’t take this drama! I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS CONVENT!”

I explained to my dad what happened. He could tell I was very upset and told me to just fold all my clothes up the day before the two weeks was over and throw them in trash bags then hide them under my bed.

That night my slumber was interrupted once again by the girl in the next room. She actively practiced self love (pleasuring herself). The first time I heard it I thought she was watching porn…. then I realized it was her. I just could not deal… and could not find my earplugs which I had to buy b/c of her. I understand no men are allowed…. but she was trippin.

Me (banging on the wall) “KNOCK IT OFF YOU FREAK! GET A MAN AND GO TO HIS PLACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

It worked she stopped… and out of frustration I cried myself to sleep.

The next day my friend Toyia came to town for her job. I took her by the convent so I could drop off my work bag. I warned her that though I was living on 34th street… unlike the classic movie… there was no miracle happening at this place.

Toyia “WHAT IS THIS PLACE YOU ARE STAYING AT???!?!!??”

Me “Hell on earth”

Toyia “Did they really just make me sign in at the door? And why is the man at the door dressed like a pastor?”

Me “Because he is one… you should see the looks I get coming in late at night from 40/40 club hahaha”

Toyia “Why is there an 80 year old woman walking around in here?”

Me “I guess this place beats your fam putting you in the home… I think I’d opt for the home”

Toyia “Your family left you here??!!!??? You are not used to living in these conditions!”

Me “Shocking I know, but where else was I supposed to go… did you think I was lying when I told you how horrible this place is?”

With that I gave Toyia a tour of the bathrooms

Toyia “This is gross… I hope you have shower shoes…”

Me “I wrap my feet in plastic before I put them on… these foreign girls pee in the showers... they also leave the toilet covered with paper... like I'm supposed to sit on it....”

With that I opened the door to my room

Toyia “OH HECK NAH! GET YOUR BAG YOU ARE NOT SLEEPING HERE TONIGHT!”

Me “I’m used to it girl…. ”

Toyia “The size of this room should be illegal! Pack your bag… you are staying with me at the W Hotel tonight. I have 2 full size beds, a plasma, and we can order room service!”

Me “NO SHOWER SHOES TONIGHT????!!!!! REALLY???!!!! A FULL SIZED BED!!!!! CABLE!!!!!!!” (I have the best friends ever!)

That was truly one of the best nights I had while living in the convent. Toyia even took me out for shrimps (I know there is no “s”), lobster and strawberry shortcake! I felt like my old fabulous self. The W was exactly what I needed to regain focus. I was all over that hotel like I had never been anywhere before! Toyia is my fairy godmother.

Well, I did what my dad suggested and passed my room check. I started cutting back in the shopping area of my life so I could use that money towards food…. so I would not have to hop the counter for another gov-ment PB&J ever again.

I lived in the convent for 6 months until I found my current spot in Harlem …which I am extremely grateful for (see my blog “I’m not happy Raheem for details). To everyone who let me crash at their place (or W hotel room) I can never say thank you enough for helping me get through convent life! I love you forever!

One thing is for sure… after that… I can live in just about anything.

You Aint Got NO Job!

2009-02-03T00:54:00.003-05:00

I hate doing laundry. I will purchase new underwear to avoid loading up my cart, dragging it down the stairs of my 6th floor walkup and wheeling it down the street to the (get this) Peaches N Klean Laundry mat on 150th.

The laundry mat is usually packed and the machines are small. It costs 14 quarters to wash and 8 min per quarter to dry. It’s easy to spend half your check at the Peaches N Klean.

There is always a woman in there acting like she runs the joint. If you are familiar with Keyisha Cole’s mamma Frankie… imagine the Puerto Rican version of her. She is always barking out orders and talking crazy… thus adding to the reason I never want to wash clothes.

Woman (sounding like an army commander) “LINE UP ALL CARTS! CLEAN OUT THE TRAY! DON’T PUT DIRTY CLOTHES IN THE BASKETS! NOTHING BUT CLOTHING ON THE FOLDING TABLE! GET YO KIDS!”

All she says is true… but does she have to be so LOUD! She is always mopping and sweeping in the way of what you are trying to do. What makes it worse…. SHE DOES NOT EVEN WORK THERE!

You see… she is a random woman off the street who thinks she “works” at the Peaches N Klean! The actual employees love her because she does their job for them.

Today I got myself prayed up and went to do a load of laundry… I have 3 more, but I wanted to get in and get out.

Woman “LINE YOUR CART WITH THE REST OF THEM!”

Me “Can I load my clothes in the washing machine first?”

While my clothes were in the dryer I went to the corner store to take a quick break from her laundry drama. When I returned I sat down and began munching on a granola bar.

Woman “YOU CAN’T EAT THAT IN HERE!”

Mind you… there is not a sign saying “no food or drink” AND she was sitting down eating a plate of Ox tails from the Jamaican spot a few doors down.

I decided to ignore her and take a big bite in her face. I then put my i-pod on.

Woman (all huffy) “OH! YOU JUST GONNA IGNORE WHAT I HAVE TO SAY HUH? IS THAT WHAT WE ARE GOING TO DO?”

The man sitting next to me saw my agitation… and me about to open my mouth to say something.

Man “Don’t do it my sista, don’t do it!”

Me “Does she realize she's not an employee?”

Man (Shaking his head) “Her pockets should know… cause there is no paycheck in there.... it's that stuff she's on”

Me (quoting the show Martin) “You Aint Got No Job TOMMY!”

We both laughed and I continued to listen to my music. Then I got to thinking…. this woman could be on to something. The Peaches N Klean might one day recognize her work and hire her. Hmmm perhaps I should just show up to a movie set one day and act like I’m in the movie and get discovered… and become rich and famous…. and then get my own reality show and clothing line…..

Hey, as my roomie says “girl, you better fake it till you make it!”

I Want to Work for Diddy!

2009-02-02T15:30:00.005-05:00

(was it just me.... or did anyone else notice he was rocking sean john clothing in "raisin in the sun"...)

Last February I applied to a blind job on Media Bistro. The position was to be an assistant to Sean Combs. We were to write an essay as to why we would be an excellent assistant, attach a resume and picture, and scan in any reference letters we might have had. 3 days later I received an email informing me that I had made round one cuts to audition for the Vh1 reality show: I WANT TO WORK FOR DIDDY.

I was TOO excited and began calling all of my friends! Work for Diddy??!!! I walked passed Bad Boy almost every day and often times my friends would catch me starring at his gigantic billboard in Times Square. You can say what you want about Diddy, but that man is one of the best business savvy people in the business… and to just be around that is an opportunity I could never refuse.

I received a call form Vh1 casting detailing the information.

Casting “Hi Jessica! Are you excited!”

Me “You have NO idea!”

Casting “Your essay was very entertaining. Iowa huh?”

Me “That’s right!”

Casting “Great! Well we will be giving you an on camera interview this Thursday at 2pm sharp. Come to the 10th floor at 36th and 6th. Wear interview attire bring any clips or anything you would want us to pass along to Sean Combs. This will be treated like a real job interview.”

That night I had a dream that I was on the show. I was wearing IOWA shirts during my confessionals and dominating the competition. When we were asked to go to Brooklyn to retrieve cheesecake… I SPRINTED the whole way there and back. I was calling my friend Richelle from the house phone so the world would see her name appear in the “on the phone with” caption. I won the competition and was poppin bottles with Diddy in VIP… then Oprah walked in and asked me to work for her… and she became my mentor. OH WHAT A DREAM!

The next day I was crazy nervous. I walked in and they took a Polaroid of me. My first step was to talk to a Vh1 dude in an office.

Vh1 “So I’m going to talk to you for a little bit first… and if this goes well you will do an on camera interview for Sean Combs.” (I see we weren’t to call him Diddy)

Me “Sounds good.”

Vh1 “Now this show is to really find him someone who would make an excellent assistant. We are not about putting you in a house with 7 strippers or anything like that.”

Me “You mean to tell me this is not the audition for Flav of Love? Aw Man! I really wanted Flav to give me the honor by changing my name! ”

Vh1 “I see you have a personality… Great!” (he proceeds to write something down)

We talked for a while about my goals and experience. I was okayed to do the on camera interview.

I was led into a cold room where there was nothing in it but 2 folding chairs and a camera.

The interview was pretty regular. They made me look into the camera and tell Diddy why I wanted to work for him. I took off on this two min rant about how he crafted my belief system.

Me “Sean Combs, you stress to your artists that there is always someone coming to take your place. You are the reason I don’t sleep! I can sleep when I’m dead! Nothing comes to a sleeping man but a dream and I would rather be up working towards and getting mine than laying around thinking about it……….” (if you know me…. You know I BE KNOCKED OUT!... but I’d say anything to work for Puff)

That night I was called and was told I made it to round two! I went back to the same location the next day. This time…. the questions were weird.

Vh1 “Would you walk to Brooklyn for cheesecake?”

Me “I’d RUN to Brooklyn and assist in making the cheesecake myself!” (go hard or go home)

Vh1 (laughing) “So I take it you would do it. It blows my mind when people on his shows complain about that… this is an opportunity we are talking about!”

Me “I know right…. That’s why I run to Brooklyn and back everyday for my workout.”

Vh1 “REALLY?”

Me “No way… let’s not get carried away here.”

Vh1 “So tell me about your family and up bringing”

Me “I have the most loving and supportive family in the world! They would do anything for me. I’m just blessed to have the parents that I do.”

Vh1 “So you have the perfect family?”

Me “As perfect as they come!” (I really do feel this way…. Besides… I’m not about to blast my fam to get on TV)

Vh1 “Are you single?”

Me “As in unmarried… yes.”

Vh1 “I sense a bit of a player….” (mission accomplished… I can come off as prude so I had to say something that would give me a little edge)

Vh1 “Tell me something interesting about yourself that we have not talked about yet.”

This was hard because I had already given these people my life story.

Me “I breed iguanas”

Vh1 “Wow.... that’s different.”

Me “I know!”

Vh1 “Do you sell them…..?”

Me “I don’t breed iguanas… I just could not think of anything else to say.”

I was asked a few more questions and with that I was sent on my way. A friend of a friend was a production assistant for the show…. So I was aware I was not selected… but Vh1 never called to tell me that. I was disappointed, but after watching the show… they didn’t really want smart people anyway.

You Betta WORK!

2009-02-01T16:49:00.002-05:00

I think it is safe to assume that everyone in their educational career is subjected to that teacher who has no interest in teaching… rather they spend the entire class period brining students down instead of motivating. Their goal? To embarrass every kid before the school year is over.

Mr. Johnson. I will never forget the day he decided to tell me about myself in front of my peers. Calling me “arrogant” and “naïve” simply because I found his class a waste of time. I did the work, participated…. but if I find the subject matter boring and your teaching methods ineffective… I’m not stuntin you . I was mad he called me names in class… any problem he had could have been discussed when the bell rang. When I stood up for myself… he tried to issue me a detention (I went straight to the VP’s office and got it terminated).

My good friend Nathan did drag shows. He is the original Sasha Fierce! Beyonce has nothing on my guy! (Snap for the kids). One night he was doing a show at this gay club called the Garden and invited me and my friend Sara to go.

Nathan worked it and won the competition! He ripped the runway like he was the love child of Tyra Banks and Ms. Jay! The three of us took to the dance floor to celebrate.

Sara (grabbing my arm) “OMG! Jessica! Turn Around!”

There he was. Mr. Johnson in all his glow stick glory…. backing it up with a man to the techno remix of YMCA.

Sara “We have to get out of here! I don’t want him telling my parents I was here!” (I’m usually the scary acting friend… but I was too amused!)

Me “Get a hold of yourself! I don’t think he wants your parents to know HE is in here!”

Nathan “Well! Now we know why he busted you out in class the other day Jess. He does not hate you… HE WANTS TO BE YOU! OKKKAAAAAAY!”

Sara “You guys are forgetting something… WE ARE UNDERAGE!” (Garden never carded show participants and their entourage)

With that we decided to leave, but Nathan aka Tammi aka Tam Tam just had to sashay on past Mr. Johnson. I don’t know if Mr. Johnson ever saw me in the club that night…. but we sure saw him!

I sat in 6th period the next day smiling from ear to ear! I made sure to participate! Every time I would raise my hand… he seemed scared to call on me.

I could have outed Mr. Johnson to my peers, but I never did. I didn’t like it when he judged me and slapped on the arrogant label… so I was not going to judge or label him.

Like mom says… “two wrongs don’t make a right.” Besides, it would have been like Clay Aiken, Lance Bass, or Wanda Sykes coming out…. No one would have been surprised. And whether Mr. Johnson was or wasn’t … was not the business of me or my classmates.

You Betta Fight For Your Right to Pot-tay

2009-01-31T02:30:00.007-05:00

(Every African American either has... or knows someone who has one of the above pics in their bathroom.... think about it. Exactly, just as I thought. LOL!!)

Most New Yorkers know that if you are going to be out for a while in the city, use the restroom before you leave the house. You’d have a better shot at a lasting music career at Bad Boy than finding a public restroom.

I went to the movies with my friend Stacy the other day. Before the movie started I took a trip to the restroom. While in the stall I looked down to see a 2 in a half year old boy staring up at me from the next stall over…. awkward. His mother was changing him on the ground… she had his coat on the floor and laid him on top of it.

Me “That is just nasty! I want to call child services!”

Stacy “That is horrible, why didn’t she use the changing table instead of laying her kid by the toilet?”

Me “And had the nerve to lay the coat down… and then put the coat on him so he could go outside. If it was that serious she needed to go find a changing table.”
(Now that I think about it.... there probably was not a changing table b/c YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BRING A BABY TO THE MOVIES!)

Truth is… that is hard to do in this city. When I first moved here I was walking in midtown and needed to use the restroom… so I did what any normal person would do…. I went to Mc Donald’s. As I was walking towards the back I was stopped by a big burley bouncer.

Bouncer “Receipt please”

Me “Oh no see… I’m not trying to buy the restroom, I just want to use it.” (didn’t realize the bathroom was like an exclusive club and your receipt the VIP pass)

Bouncer “You can’t use the bathroom unless you purchase something.”

Me “Are you serious? I have to buy a Happy Meal in order to use the bathroom… how about you just act like I showed you a receipt.”

Bouncer “I would, but my boss is over there looking.”

I understand there is an issue with homeless people…. But dang! Access denied at Mickey D’s? What makes it worse is Manhattan Mc Donald’s do not have dollar menus… so to go to the bathroom you’d have to pay around $5.

Most places practice this closed restroom policy. So if you are ever in the city and have to go…. do what I do. Go to either a department store like Macy’s or to a large hotel like The Hilton or Marriot. Using the restroom is a right and you should never have to pay for it.

She's Just Not the Into You

2009-01-30T22:38:00.005-05:00

(above pic from left to right. Random, My girl MJ, Me)

Ladies! Has the above Kodak moment ever happened to you? You are in the club with your girls, and a random dude jumps in the picture in attempt to get close. You flash him some serious “get away from us” side-eye… but he just does not seem to get it.

Last weekend my friend was throwing a house party/ game night. In walked some random crashers. As I was walking past one of them he grabbed my arm.

Random “Aye Ma, Let me take you to dinner.” (was he asking or stating?)

Me (as I remove his grip) “Ummm….. what’s your name?”

He said something like T-Rocka. I myself prefer government names.

Me “I have a boyfriend.” (translation: I’m so not interested that I am making up a fake man)

As I was walking away he says the classic line woman hear all the time after we signal not interested.

Random “You aint all that anyway.” (just cause you salty boo… don’t hate on my flyness… after all, you tried to get at me. Not the other way around)

I went and stood next to my home boy Laurent… my designated “man”.

Laurent “What just happened?”

Me “The guy over there with the gold teeth rockin the Puff Daddy and the Family era bubble coat drenched in Old Spice just asked me to dinner…. by grabbing my arm. He didn’t even introduce himself.”

Laurent (laughing) “And you turned it down??!! This is a recession and you are broke. You better take that free meal!” (A real friend is quick to remind you of your circumstance) “Aye she changed her mind!”

Laurent proceeds to act like he is going to pull me back over to Mr. T-Rocka.

Me “You better not!”

Fast forward to Monday. I was in Borders when I walked into a large crowd of middle aged black women. They seemed very excited to see someone.

“Hmmmm either Zhane, Tyler Perry, or Hill Harper must be doing a book signing,” I thought to myself.

Well… I was close. In walks Steve Harvey to promote his new book “Act Like A Lady Think Like a Man”.

Last time I saw him in person was in Chicago at his All Cream (cause white parties are over done) Grown and Sexy Bash (like that’s original). He had hair then (or a man lacefront…I forget what the man wig is called). I did not stay at the party long… I was the youngest person there…. Killin them in the Cupid Shuffle (someone remind me to blog about that another time) But ANYWAY back to my point.

Why do women insist on buying these how to guides? A few years ago I recall women flocking to the store to buy “If You Want Closure in Your Life Start with Your Legs: A Guide to Understand Men.” And let’s not forget the ever so popular book (although this one is funny) “He’s Just Not that Into You”.

Understanding the opposite sex is easy. It is simple and plain and there is no need to waste $19.99 for the information. If he’s not calling… he either does not like you, he is with his wife, or he and his boys were having a contest to see who could obtain the most numbers in the club that night. If she is not calling… she found someone else to talk to.

Ladies, we have to stop giving “the man” our money for these books and reading articles like “20 signs he has a crush on you”. And fellas… yall can’t press a girl all extra hard in the club and then yell at her when she is not interested. There is someone out there for you. So stop grabbing arms and jumping in pictures... and realize She's just not the into you!

Stay optimistic, reevaluate your type, and keep an open mind. There you go… relationship advice both sexes can use for free 99. But trust, the dude with the gold fronts will never get love here.

Sweat Yo Perm Out

2009-01-29T18:10:00.005-05:00

I’m the classic big sister. I used to make my brother give me all of his dimes… and I would give him nickels…. telling him they were worth more because they were bigger. I’d give him pennies for his quarters because pennies were “better” … they were a different color… making them “rare”. I bossed him around then… still do today. But in the end he is my biggest fan and I consider him to be my heart. The only person I would ever take a bullet for.

My brother is totally trusting of me… perhaps too much. He once told my mom he did not need to work hard in school because he knew I was going to make it big and he would share in my millions. You gotta love him!

2 weeks before he was about to graduate from high school I came home from college for the weekend. He was in the process of growing out his hair. It was the nappiest of a mess I’d ever seen! My mom was begging him to get a haircut, but you could not tell him his hair was not fly. Mom asked me to talk to him about it because she knew he would listen to me.

Me “You look grimey… and that’s not a compliment”

Brother “Your face is grimey… and that’s not a compliment” (if you have younger siblings… you know the comebacks are nothing but a repeat of what you said first)

Me “How about you let me twist your hair… now that would look off the chain!”

Brother “What are twists?”

Me “It would look like baby locks”

Brother “Okay, I’ll let you do it”

I ran upstairs and grabbed a small comb and some gel, but his hair was just too napp-a-fied and would not twist up.

Me “Let’s run to the beauty supply store and get some products to soften your hair so I can work my magic.”

We went all the way across town to the beauty supply store. In Iowa, the black hair care aisle in the drugstores only carries these items: do rag, blue magic, motions, oil sheen and “Just For Me” perm kit. It’s pathetic! So we had to go across town (it’s only a 17 min drive… but to us that’s across town) to get what I would need. We bought some S-curl stuff, bees wax, and some gel.

Once home I mixed all the stuff together in my hands and worked it into his hair.

Me “Okay, It’s getting more manageable all ready! Just tie it down tonight with your wave cap and it should be soft in the morning.”

My brother did as I said. The next morning I woke up to screams from my mom and my brother.

Mom “JESSICA!!!!!!!!! GET IN HERE! NOW!” (she was NOT happy)

Me “What did I do?”

Mom “Do you know what this S-Curl stuff is that you put in your brother’s hair?!!?!”

Me “Yeah, texturizer… like cream stuff to make it curly” (I said this all calm)

Mom “TEXTURIZER IS PERM! YOU LET YOUR BROTHER GO TO BED WITH PERM SITTING ON HIS HEAD ALL NIGHT!!!!!!!!!”

Me (starting to panic) “I did not know it was perm mom HONEST! I thought it was like Duke or Pink Oil Moisturizer!”

I myself can’t let perm sit on my head longer than 15 min without it burning. The fact that my brother SLEPT with it on his head all night…. Was AMAZING!

My mom then runs in the bathroom as my brother is in the shower. She starts dumping neutralizing shampoo on his head as he is yelling at her to get out of the bathroom.

Mom “Justin, make sure you get it all out! Is your scalp burning? Are you okay?”

Brother “I’m fine mom! I’M FINE! CAN I PLEASE JUST TAKE A SHOWER!”

Somehow, by me mixing the perm with the bees wax and gel cancelled out the burning. My parents and I waited in the kitchen for my brother to come down. When he finally did… let’s just say he was a HOTT MESS!

Dad (laughing so hard he is gasping for air) “YOU LOOK LIKE DON KING!”

Me (doing Don King impression) “ONLY IN AMERCIA!” (I often feel sorry that my brother and my mom were always subjected to the goofiness that is me and my dad)

After seeing that my brother’s health was not in jeopardy, my mom began to crack up too. Justin’s hair was afro in some parts, straight and silky in others… and some was missing in the back.

Mom “If you two were younger this would be one thing! But being 18 and 20 you all are too grown and know better than to be mixing chemicals! And Justin, you sat up there and let her do it! I guess you will always be the “know it all big sister” and you will be the “follower little brother”

Dad “I can’t believe you let Jessica play chemist in your hair!”

Brother (ignoring what was just said) “YOU DID THIS TO ME ON PURPOSE!” (Boy was he mad at me!)

Me (Dying with laughter) “You know, I didn’t. I honestly did not know that was perm. I’m not that evil! I am SOOOOO sorry!” (this was hard for him to believe since I was laughing… HARD)

With that my brother stormed out the house and went to get a haircut. He came back faded up… just the way my mom wanted her son to look on his graduation day.

The Girl Who Cried Penis

2009-01-28T22:19:00.004-05:00

Today I got a facebook friend request from this girl Megan. In middle school she tried to clown me for having a “big butt” and “fat lips”. I got on her hard for having a “Pinocchio”… (her nose was on the large side). Thing is now, those features she used to poke fun of me for… women spend thousands of dollars to get and men find attractive. I wonder how much play that nose is getting her?

The things kids should have made fun of me for… were considered cool. My headgear and glow in the dark braces were a hit at all the slumber parties. My hairclips crafted of shoelaces... all the girls loved. But for some reason it was my butt, legs, and lips that attracted the jokes. Kids insisted on calling me GBG (ghetto booty girl) and when I would be standing in the hall (I’m bow legged) the boys would come up behind me and hit me in the back of my legs…. causing me to fall and drop all of my books. I’m by far guilty of my share of clowning too. After all, when you dish it you have to be able to take it!

The year was 1996…. 6th grade. Our class was watching “the film” … you know the one that talks about puberty and all the changes and feelings your body is having. The last thing I remember seeing on the screen was an erected penis.

Me “Where am I?”

School Nurse “The nurses office… you threw up and passed out during the film”

Me “Really? Well… I feel okay… can I go back to class?

School Nurse “I think you are dehydrated… did you run the mile today in P.E.?”

Me “Yes, fastest time I’ve ever had!” (I was SO proud)

School Nurse “How about you eat some of these crackers and drink some juice. Sit here and let me watch you for a little bit. There is only 30 min left in the school day anyway. I’ll send you back to class to get your books.”

The nurse was right. When I walked back in the room the janitor had covered my “accident” with the oatmeal (remember that disinfectant stuff they used to put down that signaled someone threw up).

Female Classmate “Are you okay?… they showed the male private and you just threw up and fainted!”

Me “I don’t remember even doing that… I was probably just sick from beating you in the mile” (I had to make sure she knew no matter what… I was still one of the best athletes in school)

My classmates had a field day with my barfing! For the rest of the week my new nickname was “PENIS GIRL”.

2 years later I tossed my cookies yet again in front of my classmates while in advanced biology (I was a science nerd). We were watching the childbirth video… and my stomach and eyes couldn’t take it. I’m sorry, but watching childbirth was gross then… and it still is today. I did not get made fun of for throwing up this time… only because everyone else found that video to be utterly disgusting as well. But it did signal that whenever the human body was on the tube… don’t sit by me.

Junior year of college I was sitting in a lecture of about 300 students when the girl next to me passed me a note. It read: "How are you PENIS GIRL?" I scanned the rows of the class looking for who sent it. 5 rows down there they were… 2 boys from my 6th grade class hi-fiving and laughing historically. I started laughing too and kindly flashed them my middle finger. It was almost a decade later and I STILL had not lived that down.

I could become the next Oprah or the Diddy of media. Might someday be the president of NBC or write the next Cosby Show. But to the alum of Westridge Elementary I will always me known as….. the girl who couldn’t handle the penis.

"Harpo, Who is this woman?"

2009-01-27T23:06:00.003-05:00

I have to admit. 08 was a stressful year and let's just say… Oprah wasn't the only one eating her feelings. I have a membership to Ballys, but the closest one is in midtown… and I’m just too lazy to get on the train to go workout. New York Sports Club is right on the corner from my apartment. My roommate has a membership there and has been kind enough to assist me in my weight loss efforts by letting me use her card.

I’m a plain Jane when it comes to my work out routine. Just put me on a treadmill. As I was getting off the mill to call it a day one of the clubs trainers approached me.

Trainer “That’s it? That’s all you are going to do?

Me “Hey, I did a lot for someone just getting back on the wagon. 2 miles… I’m done!”

Trainer “How about you give me 10 min to work you out.”

Me “I’m telling you upfront I cannot afford you.”

Trainer “How do you know you can’t afford me? We have not even talked about all that.”

Me “Unless you are free… I cannot afford you. Perhaps you are unaware but this is a recession. I'd rather be thick and have shelter than to be toned and homeless.”

Trainer “Come on now girl, I just want to hip you to game about working out. Show you some stuff. I'm not going to press you. All the stuff I show you you can do on your own. But that pathetic cardio routine of yours is not going to cut it.”

By this point it was getting obvious he was flirting with me and I just wanted to go. I hate talking to people at the gym. Just standing there in a pool of sweat. Besides… there was nothing new he had to show me. I played sports throughout high school and have had personal training before… but because he was cute… I went with it.

Me “10 min and I’m leaving”

Trainer “So what’s your name?”

Remembering that my roommates name is on the club pass I just used her name.

Me “Charreah”

10 min turned into 30. Being out of shape… that was the longest 30 min of my life and I was mad at myself for doing it. All those squats and planks had me winded.

Trainer “NOW YOU’RE WORKING IT! PUSH IT! PUSH IT!…. GIVE ME 10 MORE!”

This cutie just got all Harvey from Celebrity Fit Club on me… it was time to go.

Me (struggling to get off the floor) “Okay… I’m done with this now. Thanks for your time!”

Trainer "I'm not done with you!"

Me "Well, I'm done with you... and there is some birthday cake flavored ice cream at home with my name on it!"

Trainer looks at me like you better not.

Me "Okay I'll eat some sugar free jell-o. But for real... I'm leaving".

Trainer “Oh no you don’t! Come over here to the computer so I can set you up for some personal training.”

Me “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”

Trainer “Don’t worry about it.”

He logs into a computer and proceeds to type in C-h-a-r-r-e-a-h.

Up pops a giant picture of my roommate on the screen! I was just busted for sneaking into the club! We look NOTHING ALIKE! PLAYED MYSELF! Hmmmm...

Trainer (extra confused) Who is she?

Me “uh… uh… uh… that is my stepsister. Her job has a discount here... my membership is under her name… she is Charreah. My name is Jennifer. (I was SOOO lying, but I was trying to make the situation better)

Trainer “Okay…. Jennifer…. What is your last name……?”

Me “Got to go by!”

I took off oh so fast down the stairs to the locker room. Grabbed my coat and bag and ran out of the gym. Having worked at the YMCA back in the day I know how they like to do people who cheat the system. I was not getting put on blast by a club manager.

Well so much for me working out. I’m too scary to go back there incase my pic is hanging on the wall marked WANTED FOR TRESPASSING!

Want a job? Got a Headshot?

2009-01-27T00:37:00.001-05:00

I am going to state the obvious. This economy is terrible. And in NY.... things are expensive for no reason. Apples are 2.99 per lb...one of those single serving containers of yogurt.... $1.05. Hell! RAMEN is like $2 a pack. I have become my worst nightmare… a coupon cutting fool! With these prices I have been forced to eat whatever is on sale at the grocery store for the week. This weeks special.... Campbells Soup and Motts Apple sauce. Now that's MMM MMM GOOD!

I need to boost the side hustles. A few months back I had an interview at American Apparel. For those of you who don't know... they sell spandex, tights, tees and leotards. Now I've had some crazy interviews in my day, but this BY FAR topped them all. The woman interviewing me looked like she would be the type to worship Marilyn Manson while picking her scabs and eating them. She spoke in this weird monotone voice… much like MTV cartoon character Daria. She led me to the dungeon of their flagship store where designers were creating t-shirts. We sat on a cement bench in the corner as I was trying to hear her over the sound of sewing machines.

Interview chick “Resume?"

Because I could see she wasn't going to... I extended her a handshake..... "Pleasure to meet you” I said.

I did not think I was going to need a resume to sell over priced dance gear... but I did happen to have one on me (only because one day I am hoping to run into Jay-Z).

Interview chick "write your name on this sheet of paper in big letters."

I did as I was told and wrote my name going horizontal in big letters across the sheet of paper

Interview chick "Now hold it up... and smile...or don’t… I don’t care what you do. I am going to take your picture."

me "Sort of like a mug shot?"

Interview chick "you can say that"

I know I looked extra confused in that picture.... why was she taking it?

Interview chick "Thanks for coming in have a nice day"

me "That's it?"

Interview chick "Yes. That is it."

me "sooooooooo when can I expect to hear back?"

Interview chick "If we want to extend an offer we will call in a week."

She then sort of waved me off like Meryl Streep’s character did everyone in the movie Devil Wears Prada.

Me “well… I look forward to hearing from you”.

That was the most superficial (and strangest) thing! I was not there trying to model for them. This was not an open casting call. I was there because I have retail and fashion experience (let's not forget my BA degree) and frankly I am more than qualified for a sales associate position with their store whether they feel that I fit into their standard of beauty or not! What happened to equal opportunity employment? Oh… and how dare they not extend me an offer! I KNOW I’M FLY! Shoot….

She was a Devil With the Blue Dress On!

2009-01-25T22:40:00.005-05:00

New York City subway system provides me with great entertainment. From the little kids break dancing for change… to the homeless man who sings “Lean on Me” (oh the irony) on the 3 train… I never have a terribly boring ride.

Last night I was on my way to Times Square to see “Notorious” when this hoodlum looking young man sat across from me. As I clinched my purse tighter (hey, he fit the profile… don’t judge me!) he did something unexpected. He pulled out a blow pop and got to sucking. I tried not to snicker and look the other way… but I could not help it.

Dude “Yo, is there a problem shawty?”

Me “No, no problem.” (I knew my outbursts would get me into trouble one day… I was just hoping he was not going to kill me for it.)

Dude “A man can’t have some candy?”

Me “You can have whatever you like” (oh lawd…I did not mean for that to sound like the TI song)

Dude “For real though…. Why you laughing?” (Since he was pressing me so hard… I decided to keep it real)

Me “There are just some foods that grown men look funny eating.”

Dude “Like…” (was he really taking it this far?)

Me “Like Blow Pops, corn dogs…. pretty much anything on a stick. My homeboy and I also confirmed that guys should not eat anything with pink frosting… like cupcakes. Yea…You don’t look very manly eating a cupcake with pink frosting…. Not a good look”

Dude then tried to look at me like he was all mad.

Me “come on… if I was sitting here suckin on something you would be all up in my mouth. Trust me… I’ve been eating those Flintstone Push ups and have had dudes all up in my grill saying inappropriate stuff. I did not mean to laugh at you. You got another one?”

Dude (extra salty) “ No”

I began to think of the time my friends and I were at Tick-Tock Diner over on 34th and 8th talking about the weird stuff we have witnessed on trains.

Alex “I’ve seen a couple having sex on the train yo! Some people watched… some moved cars.”

Tony “I’ve seen a dude light up a crack pipe and smoke it”

Flex “I’ve seen a man masturbate to a girl. She had her back turned to him reading a book. She did not even know”

Everyone “THAT’S GROSS!”

My roommate once told me about her co-worker who had a purse on her arm and when she got off… the strap was still around her shoulder… but the purse was gone!

It would be months later until I experienced a guy standing up holding onto the pole with one hand and his “manhood” with the other. Just whipped it out for all to see as he took a leak in front of me and 3 other people in the car.

But the weirdest thing that I’ve seen did not happen to me on the train…. It happened around 11:45pm as I was walking to the train station on 145th and St. Nick one Friday night.

As I was turning the corner leaving my friends house a woman wearing a blue dress (one of those blue church dresses…. like she was on the deaconess board) walked towards me. She looked fresh from church…. except for her hair …which resembled the puffy shape of Fredrick Douglass. She was more like the devil in the blue dress! Anyway, she stopped about 4 feet in front of me. She had a wild look in her eye. I was alone and got kind of scared. I froze in place.

She turned her back towards me… squatted down low… lifted up her dress to expose a pair of dirty granny panties… and (as my grandfather would say) “broke wind.” While she was still squatted she looked over her shoulder to peep my reaction. However, I did not have one… I thought I was seeing things. The woman then got up and just walked past me as if she did not fart at me.

I tried to block it out my mind. The next day I called my friend and told her the story.

Me “It was like a drive by farting!”

Friend “Are you sure she didn’t moon you?”

Me “No… you bend over to moon…. You squat when you need to relieve something. Plus, I heard it. I feel so violated.”

Friend “Maybe she resented you.”

Me “What do you mean?”

Friend “Well… with the gentrification of Harlem.”

Me “But, I’m black….”

Friend “Yea, but you are not from here. Perhaps she’s just upset that things are changing.”

I don’t know what her reason for feeling like she needed to pass gas at me was. But, NO ONE… no matter race, creed or class deserves to get farted at!

Don't Save Her... She Don't Wanna Be Saved!

2009-01-24T04:24:00.004-05:00

One of the hardest parts about living on my block is the Popeyes Chicken down the street. I have to walk past it every day. As soon as I step out my apartment the smell of hot butter biscuits hits my nose and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to get 2 legs, 3 biscuits, a side of corn and an apple pie.

On this particular evening I could not resist. I was going in. The line (as usual) was very long. What I like about this Popeyes is that they always mess up the order… but in a good way. You leave with more food than what you pay for!

While in line a woman who looked very down on her luck walked in. She appeared to be homeless. She walked from person to person asking for money to feed her children. I stood there and watched as people ignored her and looked at her like she was a disgrace to the world. I’ll occasionally give a dollar when I see a homeless person. Perhaps it was Marvin Sapp’s gospel hit “Never Would Have Made It” that I was listening to in my headphones that had me feeling extra Christian… but I had a huge desire to help the woman.

Woman “I am trying to feed my children. Would you mind helping me out?”

Me “Stand beside me and when it is my turn to order… I will get you a family bucket.”

I figured I could cut my order and fix some sides at home… and eat a PB&J for lunch the next day. After all, sometimes you have to ask yourself WWJD.

Woman “ Psssh! I don’t want no chicken! (she said this like I offered her a bag of my bowels) I’m trying to get some Chinese Food!” (Oh no she didn’t!)

Okay see… I was trying to refrain from thinking this woman was a crack head but, that had to be the most crack headed statement EVER. I’m offering her a FREE FAMILY BUCKET of chicken and she got the nerve to turn it down and request an order of Chinese food! I figured I’d give her one more chance to redeem herself.

Me “I’m offering to buy you a family pack of chicken and biscuits…. Not any cash… and not any Chinese food”.

Woman “Well, I WANT some Chinese food. My kids want Chinese!”

If she wanted Chinese food so damn bad… why was she in POPEYES begging and not next door at the Chinese spot? This only makes me think that she wants the money for “other things”… but even then… TAKE THE DAMN CHICKEN ANYWAY! This type of ungratefulness makes me not want to help people and just stick to myself… but you can’t be like that.

Me “Sorry, I can’t help you.”

By this time 2 guys behind me were laughing historically at the foolishness of this situation. They gave the woman some money so she would leave me alone and told her to go get some “Chinese food”.

I have not been to Popeyes since… and that is probably best for my waistline.

Ghetto Awards Part 2

2009-01-22T23:07:00.003-05:00

(Scroll down for part one)

I opened the email and began reading the tip sheet. The woman in my research boss’s office was right. It was The Ghetto Film School 4th Annual Benefit Dinner and Awards. I began to feel better as I Googled the school and learned that they’ve produced for many film festivals and media outlets such as CNN. The money raised at this benefit was towards funding a documentary the students would be shooting in Africa. Why would such a great group want to be connected with a word (“ghetto”) which… depending on who you are… could bring up negative connotations?

At the event I was to land interviews with The Beastie Boys and Hip-Hop Entrepreneur Damon Dash. While getting to the third name it clinked as to why the magazine wanted to attend the event…. Designer ZAC POSEN was expected. The benefit was being held at a swanky Chelsea restaurant. Chelsea is an area of Manhattan that is not in the least bit ghetto. Chelsea is very posh and it often referred to as the gay area of town.

Upon my arrival that evening I was annoyed. Very wealthy people donned in their diamonds, Gucci, and whatever else signals “rich” to you came through the door. They would say in their very proper boarding school voices “Excuse me.. Is this the Ghetto Awards?” as if they were saying “Pardon me…. Do you have any Grey Poupon?” I was not sure how much abuse of the word ghetto (by people who did not seem to even know what one was) I could bare to listen to.

That’s when I spotted 2 members of the legendary hip-hop group The Beastie Boys.

As I approached them they read who I was representing off the press pass around my neck.

Beastie Boys “We don’t do fashion” one said jokingly

Me “ Well…Fashion is a statement and hip-hop is one of the biggest statements to ever hit the world. But, what’s important tonight is THIS benefit… as we are gathered to celebrate our youth doing powerful things through the art of film. Would you mind talking to me about The Ghetto Film School and why organizations such as this are important?” (don’t hate me cause I’m good)

With that they began talking and I got a wonderful interview. One down… 2 celebs to go. I went searching for fashion designer Zac Posen…. Who never came, but I am sure he gave a very generous donation.

We were all asked to take our seats so they could begin the program and be served dinner.

MC “Thank you all for coming to The Ghetto Film School’s 4th Annual Benefit and Awards.”

The next thing to come out of his mouth left me more confused than ever.

MC “A Ghetto is a specific area of a community where people who share like circumstances congregate. People are often outcasts. Film is Ghetto. We are sharing in the experience of Film. There is no medium like it… making us an outcast” (crowd claps)

Umm… FALSE! Am I the only person who thinks Film = Ghetto… is a HUGE stretch?

About 20 min into the program walked in Damon Dash. I’m not going to accuse him of hitting the blunt or being drunk… I’ll just say he seemed to be feeling life. He was seated right next to me. 20 min late and causing a disturbance… he took out his i-phone and passed it around the table.

Damon (to the table… as the program was going on) “This is my new baby girl. She is 2 weeks old!”

Me (holding the phone) “She is beautiful, looks just like Rachel.”

Damon (looking at me like I was the biggest stalker ever) “Who are you?”

Me (laugh) “I’m J, entertainment and red carpet reporter”

Damon “I hear an accent… you from Chicago?”

Me “I’ve spent a great deal of time there… but I’m from Iowa”

Damon “POTATOES!!!!!!”

Me “It’s corn” (I already knew what the next question was going to be)

Damon “They have black people in Iowa?” (If I had a penny for every time I was asked that)

Me “Actually, my family and I integrated the whole state!”

Damon “Oh?”

Me “Not so much”

I turned back around to listen to whatever it was the speaker was talking about. I turned to take a bite of my appetizer when I noticed my plate was licked clean. I looked over at Damon.

Damon “You wasn’t going to eat that were you?” (as he finishes off his plate)

I just smiled and rolled my eyes. Damon then begins talking to his publicist.

Damon “Am I supposed to speak?”

PR “No”

Me “I don’t mean to butt in… but you are supposed to speak”

Damon “How do you know?”

Me (Holding program) “Because this says so”. (He needs to fire his people and get at me… how do you come to an event and not know you are the keynote speaker?).

Just as I pointed out that he was speaking the MC announces him to the stage. Mouth all full and everything.

Damon (under breath) “Oh shit”

He walked slow to the podium. I have to give it to him. For someone who did not plan on speaking and was not in a sober state of being… he did a good job.

Damon “This is a very important cause to me and I am going to tell you why. I feel like I’m a dude that’s survived a pretty extreme circumstance. I’ve been lucky enough to be in a position to be able to visually show all these things that defines me as a man. The swagger in the hood… you see this in front of you? This is the hood. And it’s the coolest place on the planet. But, when I try to make movies about it I always have to hand it over to someone who doesn’t understand that experience. They know nothing about that swagger. So get me someone that is from the Bronx! And get me some directors and some DP’s and all that so they can understand and I’ll split it up I’ll break bread… I’ll share it with you all! (He went on for a little while longer talking about the film projects he had done.”

After he was done he walked back to our table. I signaled to him to bend down so I could whisper in his ear.

Me “you are supposed to present the scholarship award to the winner”

He winked at me as a thank you and ran back on stage.

As the ceremony broke for dinner a woman sitting on my other side asked me about my Iowa to New York transition. I told her all about how I moved to NY to work in entertainment media and was living in a woman’s hostile as I was trying to save money for an apartment. We talked for a while about my goals, education, internships,…. She seemed impressed.

By this time a round of calamari was sent to the table. Mmm my fav!

Damon “Are you aware of what that stuff is?”

Me “Yes, fried squid”

Damon “And you are just going to eat it?”

Me “Yes…”

Damon “You eat things that breath under the water?”

Me “I never thought of it like that… but I guess I do.” (What was the point of this conversation?)

Damon “I don’t eat anything that breaths underwater or flies. Would you eat a seagull?”

Me “I’ve never been offered any… so I cannot tell you the answer to that. But, I can tell you that I do not eat red meat……..”

I then pull my recorder out of my bag.

Me “Enough about me, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Damon “On or off record?”

Me “ummm… on?” (I wonder if he thought I was going to ask him about some Jay-Z stuff)

I held my recorder towards his mouth.

Me (very serious) “So (a take a pause)… When did you fall in love with hip-hop?”

Damon “HAHAHA ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

Me “I’m just playin! I’ve always wanted to say that!”

Damon “Girl, you are funny!”

Me “Ha, Can’t a girl have Brown Sugar Dreams? But really… I have a few questions my editor wants me to ask for future articles.”

Damon “okay”

Me “What ringtone/tones do you have?”

Damon “I’m a grown ass man, I don’t do ringtones.”

Me “You are a grown ass man… dually noted. As the country is “going green” what are you doing to help preserve the environment?”

Boy was that the wrong question! He went into like a 20 min rant about some eco friendly car he was producing. My eyes were too glazed over when he was done. Right as he finished the question… the woman whom I had my life conversation with came up to me all extra drunk, with some old dude on her arm.

Drunk woman “J, this is my Husband. He works for CNN.”

(CHA-CHIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was TOO HAPPY inside!)

Me “Nice to meet you sir.”

Drunk woman “I bet you have never met anyone from CNN before, small town girl such as yourself.” (her tone did not set well with me… and she does not know who I know)

Me “Actually, I was CNN Anchor Don Lemon’s intern when he was at WMAQ NBC-5 in Chicago. And while I was there summer 2006, Roland Martin was the head of a prominent Chicago publication… The Chicago Defender… he used to come to NBC to give interviews all the time. I would talk to him before he went on air. He too is at CNN now. I keep in touch with both of them and see them every year at the National Association of Black Journalist Convention”.

I was extremely polite when I said this. I just had to put it out there that I have been exposed to “people of importance” … don’t get it twisted… nothing about me is “small town”. And most important don’t underestimate the people coming out of my state! “I PUT ON FOR MY CITY, ON ON FOR MY CITY!”

Drunk woman (turns to husband) “Honey, isn’t that impressive. This one is good. And So articulate!”

My skin began to crawl and my body got hot. I knew I was there representing my magazine so I had to maintain all professionalism… but this lady was pushing it. I spoke with her husband for a min and exchanged information. (At the end of the day… he was not that big time at CNN… at least not on Don and Roland level!) Her husband walked away.

Drunk woman “Look J, I want to help you out. I know publishing does not pay well. I enjoy helping others. I live in a big loft on the upper eastside with my 3 kids. We have a spare bedroom. Wouldn’t you like to live with us? I travel a great deal so it would just be you and my husband most of the time. My kids are great! You would just have to watch after them. Again… this could be a wonderful opportunity for you!”

WHAT IN THE AUNT JEMIMA HELL WAS THIS WOMAN TALKING ABOUT???!!! Leaving me at home with her husband? Watching her kids? Just trying to help? HAS SHE HAS LOST HER MIND!?!?!?!?

Me “That all sounds wonderful…..”

Drunk Woman “Judy… my name is Judy”

Me “Judy, but I am afraid that I did not come all the way out here to pursue the dream of being your mammy.”

I flashed her a smile and gracefully excused myself from the conversation. What a hott mess of a woman!

The time was now 11:30pm and I still had to get home and transcribe all these interviews and write a story to be turned in by 7am. I found Damon Dash and told him how much I enjoyed his company and left. I was not going to get turned into anyone’s house negro. Especially not at any event called The Ghetto Awards!

Ghetto Awards

2009-01-21T23:54:00.001-05:00

I was sitting at my desk when I received a call from one of my editors. She wanted me to cover an event and she was very excited about it.

Editor “Hi Jessica! I have a great event I would like for you to cover tomorrow night! Are you available?!”

Me “But of Course! What is it?”

Editor “The Ghetto Awards!” (What you talking bout Willis?)

Me “ummm…. Did you say the Ghetto Awards?”

Editor “That’s right the Annual Ghetto Awards! I will send you an email tomorrow morning detailing the Ghetto event along with a tip sheet of the celebs I want you to interview. Thanks Jess! The Ghetto Awards should be great!” (was it me… or did she get a kick out of saying the word “ghetto” to me?)

I hung up the phone and just sat there. I felt violated, upset and confused. Why was there an event called the Ghetto Awards? Who was going to be at this event that we would actual use for the magazine or the website? But… most important... why do I…. The BLACK GIRL have to cover such a thing? I was offended!

My desk was in the area of the office known as the reporters cave. The room was 5 black female research reporters and one white. She was form the suburbs of the Chi (I shared a Midwest connection with her). They could see something was on my mind.

Co worker “Jess, what’s going on?”

Me “I was asked to cover an event tomorrow night….”

Co Worker “That’s great! What are you covering?”

Me “The Annual Ghetto Awards”

My response was met by a bunch of lip smacks, sucking of the teeth, and a chorus of “OH HEEEEEEEEEEELL NAWs”

Co Worker “You are just being funny… right?”

Me “Unfortunately, I’m not. And I agreed to cover it before she told me what the event was… It would be unprofessional for me to back out. I mean the name alone sounds like I’m going to a modern day coon show! I can see it now. I will be in a room with Flavor Flav, T-Pain, Soulja Boy and a slew of reject BET UNCUT video hoes. The award will be in the shape of a golden hand that is throwin up the “Westside” sign. It will given out by weavalicious chicks wearing light up stripper shoes and cut up shirts that read: “I’m dat Bitch”

Co Worker (laughing) “You’re stupid! Well, did your editor provide any information?”

Me “She said I would get the info in the morning… but she mentioned this is an annual event… I’m going to Google it now.”

I could not find any information on the Ghetto Awards. But, what was really bothering me was why I was chosen to cover this event. Why did a black person have to do it… like to be ghetto meant you had to be black. Plus, there were 2 other black girls the same age as me that reported. Why was I the black girl chosen? The 3 of us are all about the same completion… so I could not pull the “It’s because I’m dark skinned” card. And one of the girls rocked a fro… which often times some people (draw your own conclusion as to whom) stereotype as being more “militant”, “down” or dare I say “ghetto”.

I turned to suburb Chi-town chick and asked her opinion as to why I was chosen for this particular story. Perhaps she could give me the white prospective of the situation which would help me to understand my editor.

Chi-town “Well, Jess… This might sound bad… but if I was an editor and that came across my desk… I would turn to my black reporters.”

Me “Why? If there was a Gay Pride event I would not turn to my gay reporters. Or if there was a martial arts contest… I would not turn to my Asian reporters. Why when you hear the word ghetto would you assume that means black? There was a time in American History where ghetto was used to describe a section of town where Jewish people lived. Contrary to popular belief there are people of all races who live in the ghetto. I don’t get why it is a “black thing”.”

Chi-town “ This is true, but not everyone thinks like that and you know as well as I do that most people are going to correlate ghetto with being black… she probably thought that just because you are black… you know about the ghetto.”

Me “Okay, so out of the 3 black reporters, why was I selected… ?”

Chi-town (nervous laugh) “Because out of the 3… you act the most ghetto…”

I looked at her like she just called me the “N” word. But, I did ask her… she was just being honest.

Me “Would you please explain how I am more ghetto?” (This was one of those situations she would have been screwed no matter what she said. I felt bad for putting her on the spot, but I just wanted to know.)

Chi-town “ Come on Jess! The other two are the most white acting black girls I have ever met! Not that I’m saying you are ghetto… but you maintain an awareness that you are black. Do you think the other two sit at their desk and read theybf , bossip, and media take out every morning… NO. They are on Perez Hilton. If we were to go ask them about what was going on in black pop culture… THEY WOULD HAVE NO CLUE. They probably don’t even know what BET stands for.” (when keeping it real goes wrong… but I got what she was saying)

Me “You are inaccurate… I do read Perez Hilton… It’ just not at the top of my blog chain! But, you do bring up a good point… and I can see from a white prospective as to why I was selected to cover this event. Now, give me some dap and let’s go get some chicken!”

Everyone in the room begins to laugh… but even then I was still upset about the situation. I grabbed my phone and went to 3 way my parents.

Dad “Ghetto Awards? They have those? ”

Mom “Are you getting overtime for this?”

Me “Yes….”

Dad “Well, I suggest you do it and go make some money because your rent is 1,000 a month!”

Me “Dad! I am offended on behalf of all black journalist who have been fighting to be treated and seen as equals in this industry. Oh I’ll do the story… so that perhaps one day some black girl like me will not have to cover the Ghetto Awards!”

Dad (in his best color purple voice) “ALL MY LIFE I’VE HAD TO FIGHT!”

Me “ Father…..I am not amused! But, I’ll call yall back when I get off work.”

I get back to my desk and my research boss (who is black) calls me into her office. She was in there with another black employee.

Me “I’m covering an event tomorrow!” (I just wanted to see what some seasoned professionals response was going to be to this.)

Research boss “Great! Where are you going!”

Me “The Ghetto Awards! (I then break out in a little version of the chicken noodle soap dance)

Black employee “I thought the BET awards were in LA?” (she was serious with that)

Me “I’m not talking about the BET awards… This is an event called Ghetto Awards… here in New York!”

Both black women “What the hell? Why are we even covering that!”

Black employee “I hope you mean you are covering an event for the Ghetto Film School. It’s a program that provides grants and scholarships to students who are passionate about creating short films and documentaries. They’re out of the Bronx and hold an awards ceremony every year around this time... sometimes they get a celebrity to speak.”

Me “All I was told was that I was covering the Ghetto Awards and I was the token chosen to go.”

Black employee “Yea, when your editor gives you your tip sheet in the morning… make sure it is Ghetto Film School and not Ghetto Awards…. Cause if you really are covering something called the Ghetto Awards… I have a problem with that.” (insert three snaps and a neck roll)

The next day in the reporters cave

Chi-town “Morning, Interesting choice to wear to the ghetto awards.”

Me “Were you expecting me to look like I was going to the Flav of Love casting call? Sorry girl, My blue jean Baby Phat cat suit is dirty.”

We both start laughing. I was wearing a kaki high wasted pencil skirt and white BCBG racer back tank that had some gold and silver jewels on it. I made sure there was a little bling on the shirt so I could relate to the people.

By this time I was at my desk and was about to open an email in my inbox subject line: “Ghetto information” (–sigh- my editor is a trip).

To be continued………

Stay tuned for more about the actual event, my interview with the Beastie Boys and Hip-hop Mogul Damon Dash, and the drunk woman who wanted to turn me into her house negro.

I went on a Date... in my OWN Kitchen...

2009-01-19T02:04:00.005-05:00

I had a 6pm flight scheduled to leave NY LaGuardia for Des Moines International Airport.

At 4:30pm I left my building to catch a gypsy cab (yellow cabs are rare in my neighborhood) to the airport. I don’t know if it is the recession or what… but the cabbies wanted to charge me $50 for a $30 ride. I finally found one for $35 and off I was.
.
While waiting to board I was on the phone with my friend LaToyia. I was telling her about a conversation that took place between my mother and I a few days prior.

Mom “ Don’t you want to move back to Des Moines?”

Me “No”

Mom “I got you a job here”

I’m thinking it is at a TV station or writing for the newspaper.

Mom “It’s evaluating flood damage in people’s basements” (insert the chirping of crickets here)

Me “I think I am going to pass on that one mom” (that had to be the most random job ever)

Mom “Well just think about it. Also, there is a really nice young man… new to Des Moines. I figured you two would hit it off. I have invited him over for pizza the day after you come home.”

Me “By the simple fact that you referred to him as a “nice young man” means he is lame and extra dorky. And how are you going to set me up on a date in my OWN HOUSE!!!??? What’s wrong with him mom? And who past the 6th grade has boys over for pizza?”

Mom “Be nice Jessica. There is nothing wrong with this young man. He is from Chicago moved here to work for the state. Just ask your father, he met him too. He came over to the house a few weeks ago with Ms. Brown (she is a family friend)… he is a really nice gentlemen.”

Me “He’s met dad? And dad is okay with this?”

(Usually my dad and I are on the same team… WHAT HAPPENED!)

LaToyia ( busts out laughing at this ordeal). “Do you and your mom have the same taste?”

Me “Not at all.” I’m sure this guy has 0 personality. Can’t dress… probably really short… he’ll be really smart…. But lack social skills. idunno Toyia I’m expecting the worst. And he’s been to the house before… So he has seen pics…my parents probably talked about me and what I do. All I know about him is he is a “nice young man from Chicago.” But hey… I’ll call you back I’m bout to board.”

I stepped onto the smallest plane I have ever been on in my life. I’m 5ft 7 and had to duck while getting on. The plane sat two on one side and one across the aisle… if you can call it an aisle. We sat there for about 25 min when the pilot comes out to address us.

Pilot “Welp ladies and gentlemen I have 2 pieces of news. 1. Because of the high winds we will need to stop in Ohio to refuel. This should take no more than 30 min.” (I’ve never had to stop for gas on a plane… but whatever). “2. But, we won’t be going anywhere because we can’t find the co pilot.”

WTF????!!???!!????

Pilot “When we track down his whereabouts you will be informed immediately.”

20 min later the pilot comes back.

Pilot “Welp… we’ve found the co pilot. He thought we were flying out of JFK. It’s rush hour so he should be here in about 2 hours. In the mean time we are going to have to have you take all your personal belongings and go sit in the terminal.”

I swear this kind of foolishness only happens to me.
As soon as I get off the plane I decide to go talk to someone at the counter. If the co pilot can’t find his way to the correct airport… how is he going to guide us in the air?

The woman gave me this long speech about how our bags were already loaded and that they would not be able to get to my things and that they were working to get a different co pilot who was already in our airport. Feeling a little ticked I took my seat in the terminal. That’s when the girl sitting across from me let out a scream.”

There was a rat running loose. I propped up my feet and got back on my phone. About an hour later they found a co pilot and we were off.

There was an ice storm in Des Moines that night… and on that little plane… I felt every bump and chip of ice that hit. Have you ever been in a situation where you are not sure if you are going to make it…. So you start praying and promising to God all the stuff you are going to do if he just delivers you out of the situation.

Me “OH LAWD… IM GOING TO CHANGE FAHTER GOD I’VE GOT A LOT MORE LIVING TO DO. FORGIVE ME FOR EVERY EVIL THOUGHT I’VE EVER HAD AND FOR WANTING TO CUT THE CO PILOT.”

But real talk God was on our side. We were the last flight for the next couple days to fly into Des Moines. That truly was a blessing.
My dad picked me up… in my car that I left behind. For some reason the passenger door does not open very well… and the radio/cd player no longer works.

Me “dad, what’s wrong with my car?”

Dad (chuckles) “This car is barely making it.” (why black people can’t return stuff like they found it?)

Me “Soooooo who is this wack boy ma has coming over for pizza tomorrow?”

Dad “He’s actually pretty cool… I don’t think you will think he is all that wack.”

Me (shaking my head in a disappointed tone) “you’ve done changed dad… you’ve done changed.”

The next day at 6pm

Mom (shouts out from the garage door) “JESSICA, WE ARE LEAVING! We’ll bring the pizza back around 8. He is coming over at 7.”

Me “YOU ARE LEAVING ME HERE WITH A STRANGER!”

Mom “You’ll be okay.”

Me “How irresponsible… what if he is a crazy molester!”

Mom “Whatever.”

She then looks me up and down

Mom “you are wearing that?”

I had on a plaid shirt and some jeans… not so much date night gear… but what does one wear to go on a date at their own kitchen table?

Me “I sure am! Am I over dressed? I was about to put on my old cheerleading hoodie I found in my closet.”

With that my parents left.

An hour passes… and this negro is not here. I know he did not stand me up at my house! Then my mom calls.

Mom “He just called me… he is dropping off his last kid and then he will be on his way.”

Me “Dropping off his last kid! HOW MANY DIFFERENT BABY MAMMAS DOES HE HAVE!”

Mom “Oh Jessica STOP IT! He works with delinquent kids and after their programs he takes a few of them home.”

Me “Oh… well can you come with my pizza please… I’m hungry.”

Another hour goes by… no dude… no food. I call my mom again and a few min later my parents come home with a pizza. My dad and I KILT that pizza! Leaving dude like 3 pieces. I then went to my room… shoot…. After all that pizza I had itis.

My doorbell rings. My mom then comes in my room talking about how she knows I don’t have the nerve to be sleeping. “He had the nerve to be like 2 hours late,” I said.

I opened the door. Hmm okay from the outside…. He’s not all that nerdy. I had to look at his shoes. Shoes tell me a lot. He had on black dress shoes… so he just came from work so I gave him a pass.

My dad comes upstairs.

Dad “What’s up Dre how you doin man!” dad then gives him what I call “the black man embrace.” You know…. The slap combo handshake that is followed by a lean in like it’s a hug… but it’s not a hug…… yall know what I’m talking about.

Okay so clearly he was cool with my dad. My mom comes down and gives dude a hug. This was getting awkward. How is this strange dude cool with my family?

When my parents left Dre and I started talking. Come to find out we knew some of the same people in Chicago and we lived near each other when I lived there (small world) . we like the same music and the same night spots. He also possessed a go getter mentality where he was willing to relocate to get ahead for his career (same with me) and he knew what he wanted out of life and had a plan to get there. Dre is pretty smart. Okay, Okay he was coo. Moms did okay. He asked if I played pool and I told him yea.

Dre “So you want to go play pool”

Me “okay sure, I don’t know where a pool hall is…. But they have tables at the bowling alley….”

Dre “Well are you good at bowling… let’s do that.”

Me “Im okay. I bowl about twice a year.”

We went to the bowling alley….. and he paid for it. (plus) But that’s not all. When he was telling the woman our names to input on the screen she wrote my name as “Jessie” Before I could even correct her… he did. “It’s Jessica.” Which made me wonder who tipped him off to the fact that I HATE being called Jessie. Most people would not have corrected it… I appreciated that he did.

The first four frames he smoked me. I had bowled all gutter balls. Then the voice of Ricky Bobby from Talladega Nights whispered to me “If you’re not first you’re last.” I’m very competitive and I just could not go out like that. For pretty much the rest of the game I had spares and strikes. The end score was like 72 to 110… I WON!!!!!!!

Usually I would have started doing the running man and shouted out in my Dave Chappelle voice “I BEAT CHA CHUMP! BOW DOWN!” but, I’m trying to be mellower.

Me “Good Game” (man that took a lot for me to say)

Dre “I guess… I just got smoked.”

Me “Don’t worry about it… It was just luck that I won. Usually I’m a terrible bowler” (I lied)

That night I was talking to one of my homeboys on the phone and he had this to say about my win.

Home Boy “You know fam aint gonna call you… he salty that he got beat on the first date.”

Me “Well if he’s gonna be like that about it… then I don’t need him to call me…. (in true Jessica form I started singing Alicia Keys) “I Am, A SUPERWOMAN… YES I AM…. YES SHE IS…..!”

Home Boy “Typical you. Why couldn’t you just let fam win! You had to bowl all over his manhood”

Me “ Are you still toasty about the fact that I beat you bowling… and in pool?”

Home Boy “Whatever G”

Well… the next day he DID call (please, I’m J Wils.. and if you don’t know now you know!) He was going out of town… he text when he got back (I hate technology) but by that time I started having all these back problems and did not get the chance to get back up with him.

Moral of the story. Give your parents a little more credit. You might just have fun. Oh and always stay true to yourself. I could have blown the bowling game… but if a guy can’t handle a boss… then he just is not the guy for me. “I love her cause she got her own she don’t need mine she say leave mine alone” –She got her Own Ne-yo Feat. Jamie Foxx

My Prom Date stole some Henn.. Now he is in the PEN

2009-01-08T21:19:00.003-05:00

Isn't it funny how in 2 days I have managed to come across just about every guy I have ever dated or talked to? Let me explain.

The only boyfriend I still keep in touch with is a club dj. We didn't work out, but we send "What it do" texts to each other from time to time. He text me that he would add me and as many of my friends as I wanted to his VIP list. I went... after all who can turn down a free night.

Since our break up he has had 3 girlfriends (one in which he moved to New Mexico to live with). Does it bother me? Honestly, not really. I am a firm believer that your exes are your exes for a reason and frankly we just are not equally yoked. I walked in and coincidentally he was in the corner talking to the cousin of another ex boyfriend of mine. I walked over and said hello. My exboyfriend gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. "You want your drink... a sex on the beach...right? I was driving so I told him to get me a Sprite. .... I was left with the cousin of my last ex boyfriend whom I broke up with in the middle of my sophomore year of college and have not had a serious boyfriend since.... I lost my ability to ever want the girlfriend title.

Cousin "Wow, JAWS???!!! How are you doin shawty???" (umm are we in Texas now?) "It's been a while!"

JAWS is my initials (Jessica Ashley Wilson Superstar) / childhood nickname/ the name I used when I was radio personality before leaving for college. It will always be a part of me... but now that I'm older the name sounds like something you would call some hood rat chick that loves to "work her jaws" if you get my drift.

Me " I'm fine Mo, how are you?" (Mo stands for "money" none in which this negro has)

Cousin "I see yo fine baby gurl... it amazes me how my cuz let a piece like you go."

That was funny... I asked myself that for years before realizing that his cousin had did me the biggest favor in life!

Me "Yea well, shit happens"

Cousin "What are you doing in town? You move back?"

I'm getting really tired of people asking me why I'm in Iowa... as if I am not from here and my parents don't live here.... is it a crime to visit my mamma?

Me "Im just here for the holidays"

Cousin "You plan on hittin up yo ex A.C. while you here? I know he would like to see you"

Me "I hadn't planned on it..... is he still making those five dollar footlongs at Subway?" (after we broke up he got fired from his job at the YMCA and took a job working at Subway... you know as an ex I am obligated to take a cheap shot)

Cousin "EAT FRESH!" cousin then busts out laughing at his joke. "But really, when is the last time you talked to him?"

me "He called me about 2 years ago from an AA retreat" (Im not making this up)

Cousin "Yea, that nigga is whiled...wreckless... but was actuallly tryin to do some shit when you was around"

By this time Dj ex comes back with the beverages.

Cousin "Aiight Jabba JAWS. If I don't see you before you out you know yous always welcome to swing by my moms. We all still livin in her apartment. She still cookin on Sundays." (dude is like 29 still sleeping in a bunk bed)

Why was I not surprised.

Dj ex just starts staring at me

me " take a pic it will last longer! haha! why are you looking at me like that"

Dj "You was the one I let go"

me "boy BYE! You cheated on me with the town hoe... and then you" (I was interrupted)

Dj "Why you got to even go there. Im sayin... you are a good girl. Smarter than any female I know... funny as hell... well liked... and your business is not all out on the streets. You aren't out there like alot of these girls."

me "sounds like someone just wants a free trip out to NY... I am not the one."

Dj "I mean hey... that sounds like fun, but you know I'm not on that. You really are the one I let go! Anyway, i got to get back and take my turn on these tables... if you out before my sets over.... the least you can do is say bye first."

He walked away. I stood there and watched as he put his signature silver headphones on over his ears and faded into the next song. I was thinking about how we used to co dj events together back in the day. How I was so desperate to master the turn tables that i would sneak in his strip club gigs every Thursday when i was in HS so he could teach me to scratch as he played the music the strippers worked the pole to(this sounds oh so hood now that I reflect). That's when my reminiscing was interrupted by a pat on my shoulder.

Marcus "what's up Ms Lady!"

Marcus was a dude i talked to the summer before my Jr year in college. He too was a DJ and worked in the sales department of KISS FM (the Radio Station I did part time promotions for).

me "hey you... whats going on?"

Marcus "not much pimp, how many dudes you got out there in the rotten apple?"

me "whatever Marcus. how are things?"

Marcus "Welp, me and Jill are about to get married. I'm engaged!" (I could tell he could not wait to tell me that... truth is I was alerted in my minni feeds of this about 3 weeks ago)

I only know one sista named Jill and her last name is Scott.... I knew this chick was white. I'm not one to get all upset when I see black guys with white girls... honestly 90% of the brothas that date white girls... I'm not interested in them in the first place. But, seeing that Marcus and I dated... that puts him in that 10% I would date... which meant I was irritated.

me "well, isn't that magicalllllll!"

Marcus "still a smart ass I see"

Me "I can be... you mad quick to wife her up, but yet you strung me along for quite some time"

Marcus "you were in school and I did not want to deal with the whole long distance thing... you know that hon"

Me "I WENT TO SCHOOL 1 hour and 45 MIN AWAY! THAT IS NOT LONG DISTANCE YOU ASS WHOLE! But I'm sure that Becky... Im sorry Jill... would have dropped out for you and went to community college. All while letting you live with her rent free and drive her car."

Marcus (busts out laughing) "You're a trip! (funny he does not deny the whole rent and car thing) So you want to catch a movie... grab a bite... how long are you here?"

Me "You real bootleg and ultra trifling for asking me out just now. (I'm laughing at this point) Congrats Marcus! I'm going to go ahead and get out of here."

Marcus (shouts after me) "Hit me up JAWS!"

I really wish these dudes would stop shoutin JAWS all loud in the middle of the club. This night was starting to overwhelm me and I just wanted to get out of there, but I had to get up to the Dj booth to thank my ex for the pass and say goodbye.

I get up to the Dj booth and wave cause I know he can't hear me. He singles that he is going to call me and I turn around to leave. Then the most embarrassing thing happened. He gets on the mic!

Dj "bye Jessica!" (he then puts on my fav song in high school.... Snoop Dogg and Pharell "Beautiful") "I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW YOUS MY FAVORITE GIRL!"

Dude was drunk and singing the song to me over the mic. I ran out of there so fast.

The next evening was New Years Eve. As I was walking into a new club my eyes met with my first HS boyfriend. He had his hair all slick fakin like he was Puerto Rican.

He smiled. I flashed a fake grin and kept on walking. He looked different to me now then he did when I was 16. Then he was a star football player, total meat head... but fine. Carmel complected (half black/white) tatted up, gorgeous smile, dark eyes, muscular build, with oh so much swagger. He was18 but looked 23... truth is.... he probably was 23 (he was held back a few times). Now... he just looked raggety.

(quick back story)

We went to different high schools. We met in summer school. I was there to get ahead... he was there because he flunked two classes during the regular school year. He asked me to be his girl at this fast food joint called Arbys... I told him I wanted some good curly fries.

One day after school 2 girls (1 of them pregnant) wanted to beat me up... claiming their home girl was his girlfriend. I was alone and quite frankly could not whoop on pregnant girls (isn't that attempted murder?). Right as they where about to attack the city bus came by. I had no clue where the bus was going... but I jumped on it and ended up at the public library. Once there I called a friend to give me a ride back to the school parking lot where my car was parked. Of course when I called him that night... he had no clue who the girls were... and denyed having another chick. The next day I was ready with my crew... but the girls did not show.

Weeks later he was expelled from school. A few months earlier he had stole all the babies from the child development class, he also took a trophy out of the school's case... and the final straw was him fighting a girl in the school hallway. You see, his mother had passed a few years earlier and she gave him a chain that he donned around his neck in remembrance of her. This girl tried to snatch his chain off. So... he whooped her ass. Thing was... she was in a gang (yes Iowa has bootleg gangs) and some of her fellow hoodlum friends went to my school. So the next day (you guessed it) they were waiting at my locker to take their revenge out on me.... who at the time had NO idea he layed hands on ole girl. The thug bitches didn't touch me.... just talked a whole lot of mess.

2 weeks later me and dude stopped talking. I found out he got a chick pregnant. Yea, I dealt with alot of male BS at an early age... that's why I don't tolerate it now.

(end of back story)

We never talked in the club that night. Every time I turned around he was right behind me. The girl he was with looked like T.I's baby mamma Tiny from Escape. He kept making it a point to bump into me.. but then would never say anything. I just would look at him... flash a smile and walk away.

Then I ran into my prom date's brother.

prom dates brother "JAWS! Ive been looking for you forever girl! You still doing the music thing? I'm trying to get signed!"

me "aren't we all trying to get signed (I was being slick)... nah man. how are you?"

Dates Bro "Maintainin. But I've been looking for you!"

Me "you already said that"

Date's bro "But fo real tho"

Me "How's your brother????!!!!!"

Date's bro "Man, He is in Fort Dodge now"

Me "When did he move up there... all that's in Fort Dodge is the prison"

Date's bro "That's where he is at... in jail."

WAS HE SERIOUS??????????? I COULD NOT TAKE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me "Man! WHAAAAAAAAT??? For real. You better not be lying right now... I'll hit you in your throat!"

Date's bro "Naw he got himself into some shit. He was living with me and the cops came and took him away for probation violation. He was in trouble for theft. He stole some Hennessy from the grocery store.... that was the first offence... then he made stealing a habit."

Me "let me get this straight.... My sweet innocent prom date.... stole some Hen and is now in the PEN?"

Date's bro "yea man. He's been there since July... he gets out in March sometime."

I then got a vision of some sweaty dude named Big Tyrone turning my guy into his bitch. Bench pressing him for his morning work out and then making him give him a message when it was all over.

Me "Well, thanks for the update... Im going to go let that marinate."

I walked away. That was the most bizarre 2 days ever! I realized that I need to do a much better job in picking out the guys that I associate with. Seriously. I must break this pattern. Expect big changes in my 09 dating life!

My Neck My Back

2009-01-03T20:19:00.003-05:00

I like to do it big. So I kicked off my New Year in the emergency room. I’ve suffered with chronic back pain for a great majority of my life to the point where I’ve just learned to deal with it. I have scoliosis and my vertebrae are twisted off track which has caused my bones to rub away the cartilage… in other words the bones in my spine rub together when I move. Don’t feel bad… that’s part of the reason I have this famous “why in the hell do you walk like that” strut of mine.

January 2nd my parents wanted me to go pick out new glasses for them. They pretty much get a kick out of telling people “my daughter picked these out… she does fashion in New York.” My mom came into my room around 5:00pm and told me to get out of bed so I could get my Tim Gunn on for them. I hopped in the shower and as I was getting out the worst pain I have EVER experienced shot from my back down my legs. I fell to the ground and somehow managed to pull myself up on the toilet. 10 min later I got up and kind of walked out the pain. I went to the lens place and picked out some fly glasses for the parents and came home.

Around 10:45pm while lying in bed watching Sex and The City the pain shot down my back to my legs again. This time it was 10 times worse and I began to scream, but my mom was knocked out for the count and my dad was in the basement. I tried to get up and walk… but I couldn’t. Not being able to walk is one of the scariest things ever. It was like I had forgotten how. Then I started trying to diagnose myself “Oh NO!!!!!” I thought “I’m HAVING A STROKE!” I was trying to take this like a G…. but all I could do was cry.

I called the house phone from my cell and my mom heard the pain in my voice and came running into my room. She yelled out for my dad and the two of them put me back into bed. My dad went to get ready to take me to the emergency room as my mom managed to work a pair of sweat pants on over my basketball shorts.

Remember how the infamous character Handy Man from In Living Color walked? Imagine that with a touch of OJ Simpson walk… I was a hot mess and ugly faced like a mug from all the pain as I struggled to make it to the car.

I was too glad to be at the hospital.

Dad “ I’m going to go get you a wheelchair”

Me “ I’m too fly for that. I’ll just walk.” Even in the mist of my pain… I have PRIDE!

As I got to the ER desk to check in the nurse took one look at me and figured I was having back pain. I told her she was right. By this time my dad was standing next to me… it was a shame that he had parked and walked inside just as I made it to the counter.

Next thing I know the police are escorting in a boy who had just been in a fight

Boy “I have a broken jaw… I just got jumped!”

I turned to my dad “That’s his fault! Where were his friends! He’s not getting in front of me I’m in pain!”

The boy then turned to me. “Say something,” I said. (Sorry, but a dude who just got jumped really is not all that intimidating)

My dad and I stood there and starred down dude who was clearly in an Eastside/ trailer park bar fight.

That’s when we turned around and saw the emergency waiting room was PACKED with people escorted in by cops from fighting. It looked very Iowa State Fair in there. I think my dad and I were the only people not rockin WWE RAW professional wrestling jackets.

My back was getting worse from sitting in the chairs. Finally my name was called and I wobbled into a room.

Nurse “oh what pretty nail polish”

I was irritated. Usually I would milk a compliment… but now was not the time. I grunted out “thank you” and asked her politely to just keep it moving.

She tried to take my blood pressure with some machine… but it was broke. She tried about 4 times and I had had enough of her.

“WOULD YOU PLEASE JUST TAKE IT MANUALLY! YOU COULD HAVE HAD IT BY NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

She stumbled around and found the blood pressure thingy and assured me she understood I was in pain and that they were working fast to get me a room.

Me “you mean to tell me that you saw me struggle to walk myself back here… all to take my blood pressure? YOU COULD HAVE DID THAT IN THE LOBBY!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

You could tell she was feeling really dumb… I would have if I were her. She offered to wheel me to my seat…. At this point… I had to set the wheelchair pride aside and take the ride.

While sitting next to my dad a lady looking like Brittnay Spears (K Fed-version when she was eating Cheetos and walking in gas station restrooms without her shoes) came walking in with 3 kids in their pj’s. They were wearing some monster/ Shrek slippers that made growling noises as they walked. When you are in pain… the last thing you want to hear is that noise as the kids are tearing through the lobby.

My dad and I sat there giving the lady the “WTF please get your kids” stare.

Lady “is there a problem with my kids”

Me “as a matter of fact will you tell their house shoes to Shut the Fu…”

My dad interrupted me with his laughter b/c he already knew I was about to go in hard on this lady. After all, apples don’t fall to hard from the tree. He told me to calm down and went to see how much longer the wait was going to be.

Lady (trying to get smart) “This is an emergency and I just told them to put on some shoes”

Me “funny they thought shoes meant house shoes… classy.”

Lady (starts talking all under her breath)

Me “My President is Black” (this had nothing to do with anything… I just felt the need to pull rank)

Lady then grabs her kids and moves.

More and more Eastside fighters where being escorted in by the police. Now I know you probably are asking me how I knew there were Eastsiders. The missing teeth is usually a give away, but a couple of them had on (and I’m not lying) shirts that said “PROUD EASTSIDER.”

Anyway, I was seen around 1 am.

My dad came back with me. I explained to the Dr. my situation.

Dr. “is there a chance you may be pregnant”

Me “no”

Dr. “are you sure”

Me “yes, I’m sure”

Dr. “Are you sexually active?”

Me “I’m NOT pregnant. I’m 1,000 % sure and stop trying to blast me in front of my dad!”

Dr “Do you smoke”

Me “no”

Dr “Drink”

Me “occasionally”

Dr. “What does that mean?”

Me “When there is an occasion to drink… such as if it is free I do so.”

(I could tell the Dr wanted to laugh at that)

Dr.“Street drugs?”

Me “Never”

Dr. “Pain level from 1-10”

Me “9.9”

He gives me a funny look

Me “I believe things could always be worse”

I was released at 3am. I had to get 3 shots in my booty (OUCH) an X-ray and was drugged up on vicodin. I’m still in a lot of pain. My stomach does not handle meds too well… so I was very sick this morning. My mom took me back to the DR who prescribed some stuff for people with cerebral palsy. He said my back is having severe spasms and should be cleared up in a couple days, but I have to get an MRI done to make sure that is it. I have had so many MRI’s done on my back and have been fighting surgery forever. But for now, I have been sentenced to my bed.

Back still hurts, nothing is on TV, so I just decided to pull out my laptop and write this note to kill some time while bumpin Kia “My Neck My Back”