You Betta WORK!

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

(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

(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

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

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?"

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?

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….