Close Encounters of the First Kind

I'm afraid I'm not a sex-blogger like Amy or Vix, just have enough dirty thoughts and the occasional hookup to keep things interesting. So I won't be able to go into details about what happened when Que came over to my house one evening last week.

Did we do the full monty? No. Did I want to? HELL YES.

Before this I made a promise that before anything else happened, I would come clean about my lack of experience. Before we hooked up at the party it didn't matter that I had TOTALLY lied by omission about being a virgin, because my sexual status was none of his business as a random acquaintance. But as we began toying with the idea of a physical relationship I thought it wouldn't be fair to him, and he needed to know the whole deal.

I told him in the front seat of my car after work. It was kind of funny, actually. He asked if my confession was that I had a boyfriend or spent my holiday break in a series of sexual aerobics with various suitors. "Did you mess with any guys?" he asked. "No, quite the opposite, actually," I replied. He looked at me. "You messed with a GIRL?"

Le sigh. Life is not easy.

After all the hoops I jumped through to finally confess ("say everyone assumes you've been to Paris, but you haven't. You've seen a LOT of Parisian films and seem knowledgeable about the customs and stuff but you haven't technically been. Actually, you haven't done that much traveling in the first place") he was quite understanding. Disbelieving at first, but he agreed with my reasons for not telling him sooner.

I started fantasizing about our first "real" encounter as soon as I was sure that he wouldn't curse me out or run screaming from the car at the mere mention of an intact hymen. My biggest concern was that he would expect sex, and I was at least comforted (and proud of myself) that we had outlined the boundaries beforehand. But still, I couldn't help but wonder: what if it was bad? How awkward would that be? Do I have to shave everything? What if I laugh? What if oral sex was nowhere near all it's cracked up to be?

In short, yes, it's all it's cracked up to be. HOLY SHIT IS IT EVERYTHING IT'S CRACKED UP TO BE.

All my research on Parisian customs and sneaking Cosmopolitan magazines all those years was not done in vain. Cheesy as it sounds, I was anxiety-free during the blessed event, thanks to those sources.

Some things that I learned:

-I am loud.
-It is, indeed, okay to laugh in bed if something is funny.
-Black lace does not fail.
-Inducing a boner is extremely gratifying and does wonders for your confidence.
-Any time spent worrying about the attractiveness of your vagina is time wasted.
-He has already thought about you naked. You will never disappoint.
-Following directions yields good results. Giving directions yields great results.
-Porn is a wonderful appetizer. Do not forget to close laptop and put it safely on the floor after viewing, though.

I greatly, greatly anticipate an encore very soon.

Home Sweet Home

Hello, friends.

We're all aware that I de facto relocated to Southern State for college, and somewhere along the way I fell in love with this damn city. I had every intention of hightailing it back to the Midwest as soon as I walked across the stage (THIS MAY! ZOMG I'M ABOUT TO HAVE A BACHELOR'S DEGREE I STILL OWN A TEDDY BEAR AND HAVE YET TO FILE A TAX.) but like I said, the universe had other plans. So slowly and surely, I've been mentally preparing myself for a life with a 30331 zipcode for the time being, and rather enjoying it. And by "mentally preparing" I mean learning where the nearest Five Guys is and coming up with ways to convince my landlady to let me paint the walls, as opposed to, you know, finding a grad school program or studying for the GED or coming up with ideas on how to pay my own rent.

Priorities, I've got them. Avoidance issues, too.

My mother, predictably, is none too thrilled with her absentminded daughter fending for herself 700 miles away from her maternal, loving touch. My sisters either. Dad's okay with it, though, although he wouldn't turn me away (or, frankly, be surprised) if I showed up on our doorstep a year from now with nothing but a broken spirit and my iPod.

Barring the occurrence of some incredible, handsome Deux Ex Machina and I get married at my graduation party* or something, I'm guessing I'll be in a starter house of some kind for awhile by myself. Nothing excites me more than a place of my own that I can decorate and make my little sanctuary. It would be equal parts beach house, swanky loft, sports bar, and TAKE THAT, MOTHER.

*should I have it in Southern City or go back home? Dilemma!

There would be cheap posters on the walls, mismatched vintage furniture, and a refrigerator chock full of magnets and pictures. Every room would be painted, there would be framed pictures of neat stuff everywhere, candles. It would probably be a little cluttered, lip gloss would be in the kitchen, a collection of flip-flops by every door and mirrors everywhere. Mountains of books, CDs, and DVDs would stay perched on every shelf. Surround sound, duh. Maybe even a hamburger phone! I'd keep sweatshirts and cozy socks in the living room, and I'd have a big TV in my bedroom and an easy chair (the older the better) so I can watch The Office all day. Little Sister got me a Michael Jackson poster for Christmas, so that would have to go someplace prominent, obvs. Mismatched silverware, LOTS of wineglasses, with sunflowers or tulips at the table. All the lovely kitchen decor will distract from the fact that I cannot cook, see.

Every time my mom visits she'll bury her head in her hands and say what is all this junk? What is that writing on the wall above your bed? When's the last time you vacuumed? And I will smile and just be like, it's my house and it's perfect. And then I will win her over with this fellow:

Describe to me your dream house! Virtual housewarming!

Where Do You Fall?

The Georgia Nicolson series by Louise Rennison is probably one of my favorite book series (behind Harry Potter, of course and duh). The first book is called Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging. I think I'm a little behind, but the books I do own have me in stitches. Again, it's probably the British dry-humor thing. Anyway, the plucky (is there any other kind?) heroine, Georgia, is a little boy-crazy and spends the majority of the series trying to wrangle, maintain, and enjoy the attention of Robbie, who she names the Sex God. I heart her. Of the hilarious lingo and phrases in the book, which I've used myself--"life and soul of the party," for example--the one I love is the "Snogging Scale," kind of a girl's take on rounding the bases. For laughs:

1) holding hands
2) arm around
3) good-night kiss
4) kiss lasting over three minutes without a breath
5) open-mouth kissing
6) tongues
6.5) ear snogging
7) upper body fondling--outdoors
8) upper body fondling--indoors (in bed)
9) below waist activity (b.w.a)
10) the full monty

We should do a psychological version of it, i.e., meeting the parents, spending the night, give him the last piece of cake, etc. But other than that, is the list accurate? Leave anything out? Anything out of order?

Huh. I have never strolled down the street hand-in-hand with a boy, but I sure have dabbled in the six and above territory. What does that mean? How tarty of me...

Fall is Here!

I love me some autumn. My birthday is in November, along with homecoming, trips to the cider mill, changing leaves, and best of all, the following:

Naps-nothing better than coming in from the cold, bundling up in sweatpants and furry socks, fixing a snacky-snack, and falling asleep in front of the TV, mid-afternoon. Absolutely nothing. The fact that I'm super-busy come fall and rarely have time to do this make it even sweeter.

Sports-Playoff baseball is actually the only kind I watch (Go Dodgers), but the NBA is my first love. Followed by college football, que claro. After around Halloween, there's pretty much always a game of either persuasion. And if I wake up kinda late, and I can just turn on the TV and let the lull of the Florida Gators or LA Lakers rouse my into consciousness. Like watching by osmosis.

Fall fashion-Ugg boots! Peacoats! Scarves! Flannel shirts! Layers of lovely clothes make me happy and keep me nice and toasty. Yummm and hot chocolate.

TV shows-a lot of my fall happiness rests on what's on TV, it seems. Alls I know is that the return of Gossip Girl, Grey's Anatomy, the Office and One Tree Hill (if it stops being dumb) equals a whole lotta WIN.

Cuddling-what better way to watch aforementioned TV and ward off said cold than with some good old fashioned body heat? It is a fact that men are warmer because they have more muscle mass which raises body temperature. I'm just trying to cut down on my heat bill, is all I'm saying.

Plus, fall backwards--more sleep! Amen.

My Reputation Preceeds Me

On the phone with an interview subject:

Him: "I look forward to meeting you."

Me: "Um, we've already met. I'm a friend of Top Chef's.

Him: "Oh, wait, I know you, the girl with the glasses!"

Warms my heart. That's my favorite description of myself, by the way. Hence the title!

Mister 81 Turns 31

Yum, yum. Today is the Kobe Bryant's, aka the Black Mamba, aka my crush to end all crushes, 31st birthday. What else is there to say? Y'all all know I how I celebrate the birthdays of those I stan for so...Happy birthday boo! (LOL. But for real though. He is a vision.)




Simply scrumptious.

On a even happier note, I'm currently putting the finishing touches on my schedule for my senior year of undergrad! *Butterflies*

Little Moments

Hi, Contentment, I've missed you!

Sitting in my car at the airport, waiting for the rental car for tomorrow's road trip. I'm staring into the sunset over the parking lot, Michael Jackson's on the CD player, and I have some McDonald's sweet tea.

I love looking up and realizing the existence of simple happiness and satisfaction. I love when it comes out of nowhere and I'm cognizant enough to recognize and enjoy it. Like right now. Right now, everything's ok.

Matrimony Music

Five songs that must be played at some point at your wedding. Go!

1. "So Amazing" by Luther Vandross--my parents played this at their wedding

2. "Sweetest Love" by Robin Thicke--he says it himself

3. "Crazy in Love" by Beyonce--duh because it's fun to dance to

4. "(There is) No Greater Love by Amy Winehouse--it's so sweet, especially acoustic. I'd get someone to sing it as we stood in front of everybody (people do that, right?)

5. "Just My Imagination" by The Temptations--one of my top Temps songs (watching the biopic as we speak)

6. "Like a Star" by Corrine Bailey Rae--is that a wedding song? Well, it'll be at mine.

Now that I think about it, it's been awhile since I've been to a wedding. My cousin is marrying this chick in October (psst! Her ring is HUGE) and he's not that much older than I am. Read: hot friends!

Let me know, folks!

Wedding or Circus?

Things have been a little heavy in my mind (and, sigh, in my jeans...) so really quick, so I spread a little good energy around:

I am LIKE COMPLETELY OBSESSED with Who's Wedding is it Anyway. Every time I watch it I mentally add another idea to my list of wedding stuff for my proverbial Big Day like a million years in the future.

-purple/fuschia as one of the wedding colors
-chocolate cake (I wish. Apparently not everybody likes chocolate cake *sad face*)
-long wavy hair (for me, duh)
-our own vows
-NO Pachebel's Canon in D (I was forced to play it on the piano for guests as a child and have never really gotten over it) or Vivaldi
-no tulle. Anywhere.
-or, omigod, updos
-a rehearsal barbecue instead of rehearsal dinner

I could go on and on.

Linyette, the no-nonsense, good-natured black lady from Baltimore, is my favorite wedding planner, FYI.

The funniest episode was the wedding between this snooty blonde [gold-digger] and this stereotypical, Bart Bass-type dude. They kept pushing the date back, too. The first time, the couple was "having problems" which was totally code for one of these numbers:

"You don't care about this wedding or you would have came to the cake tasting with me!"

"Don't care? Don't care? I was busting my ass at work trying to pay for the goddamned cake!"

But apparently, things were smoothed out, and preparations commenced for the new date. Then, the already overworked Kevin and his team of wedding planners start getting calls from angry vendors with unpaid bills. Oh, snap, right?! Looks like Mr. Moneybags ain't so moneyed! I could imagine that fight, too

"Do you know how embarrassing it is for our celebrity wedding planner to tell me that the florist hasn't been paid? In front of my friends? In front of the cameras? IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER?!?!"

"Why did you order a hundred different types of fucking flowers anyway?"

"Oh, now you want to add your input!"

And of course, the lady took it out on poor Kevin, griping at him when he asked her if they were going to pay $1500 for parking, something the bride hadn't thought of but was clearly in the pamphlet he gave her at the beginning of the plans. Later that night, I'm sure:

"I totally gave Kevin hell today worrying about fucking parking. And for what?! If your money's funny and we can't pay for this wedding I swear to God..."

Our brave weddling planner manages to soothe the ires of the florists, bakers, dressmakers, etc, and they even give the couple until Thursday to pay their bills. Thursday comes and goes, no word from the happy couple. Heroically, miraculously, Kevin manages to extend the deadline until Friday afternoon. And still no word from the couple! At this rate, my mouth is gaping open, this is un-fucking-leviable!

Kevin has to go around and tell the various vendors that this particular wedding is pretty much a no-go at this point, and finally, he ends up at the lady's house, where she tells him that the wedding's not happening. She sounds pretty vague, as if there may be a slim chance that her and [her money train] Bart Bass 2.0 can work things out, silently imploring Kevin to keep her as a client. But Kevin reads her like a book. If the wedding was totally off, there would be no need to say so anyway, but he tells her flat-out and very politely, that he couldn't work with her anymore. Even though her wedding was just cancelled, I was secretly kind of happy that Kevin gave her the heave-ho because she was a brat.

Clearly, I've invested a lot into this show.

Quirks

I love how men are quick to list what they want/don't want in a woman yet remain annoyingly oblivious to their own faults. However, that's another post. Looking through posts at Single Black Male (which I have a love/hate relationship with), the posts I liked were the lists of "quirks"--or qualities unique to a mate-seeking individual based on their own personalities, that other people may not understand. These can include wearing glasses, enjoying Anime, what have you. I thought about it, and here's my starting list of quirks that will make Lucky's heart swoon.

-Knowing a little about a lot.
This is a two-fold: keeping up with current events, from the highbrow news to pop culture is one. More importantly, and Top Chef is the man for this one: knowing so much random trivia it makes my head spin, allowing us to have drawn-out conversations about any- and everything. There are a few subjects with which I am totally fascinated. While my man doesn't have to share these same fascinations, I will find it absolutely endearing if he's a total nerd about, say, the Bermuda triangle, the history of football, and Howard Hughes.

If you're wondering, my favorite subjects are the Romanovs, Princess Diana, the Mafia (la Cosa Nostra!). Honorable mention: Titanic, ancient Egypt, and Greco-Roman mythology.

-An affinity for the child-like
Not to be confused with childish, ie, immature, overly messy, dependent on mothers, etc, a man who can appreciate the childlike makes my heart melt. A little silly, laughs at cute commercials, even stuff like remembering his favorite Power Ranger (and has valid reasons!). Ultimate bonus: if he has read (not just seen the movies, although that counts for something) Harry Potter. I've never met a man besides TC who has physically turned the pages of our beloved series. When I meet him, there will be a party in someone's pants, I guarantee.

-(Slightly) Imperfect Teeth
A tiny gap or a little crooked tooth in the front is so cute to me. Noticeably f*cked up or discolored chompers are icky, but a textbook so-called too-perfect smile along with perfect lips does nothing for me. I'm a sucker for a unique, lopsided grin.

-Left-handed
My dad's left-handed. My terrific buddy The Artist is left-handed. The Smoker was left-handed. Barack Obama is left-handed. Maybe it's the fact that it's kinda rare and weirdish. But it is absolutely adorable when a guy is so confident and by-the-book classic but writes with the "off" hand. Sigh.

-Hates the same reality TV that I hate
Ok. Shows like Rock of Love, for the Love of Ray J absolutely turn my stomach. I think they're misogynistic and dumb, catering to the idea of a man and his harem of women. The women on the show are just as bad. Maybe it's the one uptight part about me but I can't stand those shows, for comic relief or othewise. Just can't get with it. And any guy who doesn't at least see those problems, or worse, "kinda likes the idea of getting to choose from a bevy of [publicity-hounding, morally questionable] 'sexy' women" gives me a glimpse of his thoughts on women, sex, and relationships in general. It depends, I guess, on what he has to say, but more than anything those shows piss me off and I don't want to risk the chance of them clogging up my TiVo 'cause he just has to see who else smashed the homies.

-Has battle wounds
I love a guy with manly hands and scars from actually working sometime in his life. Or, oooh, playing sports. I don't bruise, and the few scars I've gotten totally disappear when they heal. True story: when I tripped and fell in a ditch in an unfortunate cheerleading-related incident and disgustingly scraped my knee, I thought FOR SURE it would leave a gnarly scar. But alas, you can barely see it now. Boo. Bottom line: I think scars are cool and since I can't seem to get any* I like them on guys. OMG another true story: this guy I went to high school with is a burn victim and years later I think his somewhat faded but still visible burns are kinda sexy...

I am so weird.

*Knock on wood that I don't, like, slice my arm in a freak shopping accident. Even though I got a burn on the top of my hand from the oven and I kinda like it.

I truly and literally could go on and on as I write, so I'll stop here. But I'm interested in you guys' quirky turn-ons.

Some final thoughts:
-I freaking love the Real Housewives of New Jersey. LOVE THEM. I love how they're all kinda tacky and too tan and really great moms, too.

-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THE FAMED CAVALIERS LOST HOLY CRAP CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY THIS YEAR!!!!!!

HNT: How Cheeky!

Yes I'm a little late...don't be mad at me!

Gettin' ready to party. Happy HNT!
Fact: From my thumb to my pinky is the length of ten piano keys :)

Move Over, Hillary

Be very afraid, I've just been promoted :) on The Paper. My official title is "Associate Managing Editor"--of an award-winning college, student-ran publication. I'm third, well, 2.5th in-command and, if you'll allow me to brag for just a mo', the highest-ranking female on staff in The Paper's 85 years of existence.

I am woman.

Oh, and another thing: The Paper is the publication of an all-male HBCU, even though it covers events of the surrounding institutions as well. I go to the unofficial "sister school."*

*Maintaining anonymity is haaaaard. My school/these schools are relatively known**, so I can't give away too much lest my jig be up...gets up...be's up? Anyway. My sham of an explanation probably won't sense if you don't know how the said schools operate, but just know that I'm kind of a big deal :)

**Oh, my God. I sound SO pretentious. Ignore me. Bear with me. Forgive me. Y'all know I'd never intentionally stoop so low.

And you know what's funny? Well two things:

1. In the midst of basking in my awesomeness two days ago I was also dealing with the trite comeback attempts of Film Screening Guy, who continues to make it obviously--borderline rudely--clear that he has no interest in my life other than procuring my panties. During almost the entire pitiful (on his end, anyway) conversation I was just thinking, "This totally great amazing thing that I worked my ass off for for three years finally happened to me and this guy has no idea or remote interest.*** Volumes have been spoken."

***Actually, Mr. GQ was not exactly the picture of enthusiasm either when I told him my good news. Which actually stung a little. Maybe he was distracted: we were on the freeway. A lesson in humility, perhaps? But anyway.

2. I love how the movies that give you the option of "Theatrical Version" or "Extended Version" are the ones that went straight-to-DVD and weren't actually in theaters.

Sexy Things Meme

Once again, I was tagged by the delightful Amy to fill out this "Sexy Things" questionairre. Eesh, this may be kind of hard, I am such a nerd...

1. My lips
Get your minds out of the gutter, dirty birdies! I have been blessed with a nice full pucker, and it comes in handy because most of the time, I'm smiling or laughing. This also gives me a reason to stock up on my favorite lip glosses, because I figure if something takes up half your face, it should look nice and be sparkly.

Preserving the sexy. I adore being a girl!

2. My size
I am considered tall--5'7, and athletically curvy. I have dreamt of being petite and compact but it is just not in the cards. Instead, I often feel like it's just...a lot of body for one person, you know? I'm broad-shouldered and long-legged, and combined with high heels and big hair I can feel tranny-like.

I had a point.

My body is strong and rarely lets me down. When I look in the mirror, I see more or less a classic woman's shape, no scrawny hips or peeking ribs here. And I love it.

3. My ears
My ears are ridiculously tiny. Guys think they are cute. Cute equals sexy. Ergo, my ears are sexy.

4. My disposition
Follow me here. From what I understand, men like fairly low-maintenance, natural beauty. Haphazard, rumpled, just woke up-sexy. Luckily, that's my specialty. I like to straddle the line with my clothes to my laid-back, yet flirty demeanor. My aesthetic is girl next door with a hint of sex appeal. It's fun and leaves room to experiment, in case one day I'm feeling casual and the next glamorous, hopefully it comes off as approachable!

Honorable mention: My legs
Ok, ok, must give credit where credit is due, they are a big weapon in my arsenal. I just measured them: 39.5 inches long. Out of a total 67 inches. You do the math. Thanks to genetics, dancing, cheerleading, and all-around hyperactivity, my legs get me where I need to go and turn a few heads in the process :)

I'm blushing!

Domesticity Remixed

Another double-post. You lucky devils!

After my trip home, my mom guilted me into eating better (and rightfully so) while at school, so lately I've been putting up a valiant effort. No McDonald's (even though I am absolutely craving a Big and Tasty with a large fry and chocolate shake), and I went grocery shopping for substance so I could cook. Which I did today!

To satisfy my craving, I made hamburgers for the first time.

I effing love Kroger's to death. I felt like such a suburban housewife strolling cutely through the aisles gathering ingredients for the night's dinner. Even though my mom, who actually is a suburban (working) wife, would be like bish plzz it ain't fun and games when you have to bulk shop for a family of five picky eaters, I myself enjoy grocery shopping. I'll go in for a set list and come out with DVDs and makeup too, like I did today. And ohmygod, shopping at those warehouse stores called like "National Wholesalers" or "Liquidators Etc" sets my heart ablaze with happiness. Also, the Kroger's near my house is open 24 hours. Which means I happily do my shopping at 2am.

Even though most people my age (including myself) are delightfully liberal, I think there's something fulfilling about eventually becoming a suburbanite. Maybe because I spent a huge chunk of my life in the 'burbs. After a life of moving, shaking, and changing the world, a part of me really can't wait to drive a caravan of kids to basketball games and dance classes.

Well, really, I can't wait for a Saturday where I throw on a hoodie and flip-flops, kiss my sexy husband goodbye and herd our funny, messy kids (but not the family dog) into my shiny Escalade that blares (by then, old-school) Fall Out Boy, Usher, and Amy Winehouse.

Suburbia, Lucky-style. And by then, surely I'll have learned to cook. Maybe.

Fifth Row, Center

Could you imagine a one night only concert, nay, stadium show, featuring

Duffy,



Adele,



and the one and ONLY Amy Jade Winehouse?



In my head, I've already bought tickets.

Spring Break Leftovers

Back in Southern State and detoxing from partying and junk food. Overall a crazy-fun trip; I miss the beach already!

But yay for sand between my toes.

On the last night, we went out to a club to celebrate [drink the rest of the liquor--not me though!] and I met a guy. Shocker, right?

Sistah Girl, Cali Girl, Ms. Politics, and I were walking back from the bar--empty-handed, those bitches didn't yell "Last Call"--when this tall dude cut me off and introduced himself. We chatted for two seconds, he was nice enough, and he asked for my number. I didn't have my phone so he took mine. I was flattered but chalked it up to life and spring break--he's a local, after all, and we were leaving the next day. But he did call and we ended up texting the rest of the night. And a little the next day, during the six-hour road trip. Haven't heard from him since yesterday, but again, it's not like I'll be going back to Myrtle Beach anytime soon so if anything, it's a good ego boost. He thinks I'm gorgeous, dontcha know.

I Even Made the Bed this Morning

Just wanted to drop a little news flash on you guys that I'm in a good mood. I know, right? It shouldn't be a news flash, but since I have been a little bit of a Debbie Downer lately so I thought it was only fair to come in a drop a little goodness as well.

Blogosphere asks, "Don't you have homework to do?"

Lucky replies, "I don't...see what that has to do with this current conversation that we're having..."

Okay, okay, I'm going. Hope you're all having a good day!

Whew, that was a lot of good cheer right there. Slightly unfamiliar. SNARK. That's better.

PS: Dare I say, I kind of...liked Beyonce's dress at the Oscars? Yes, it's House of Dereon (pause) but it worked for me.

Super Sunday

I am not woman enough to liveblog the entire Super Bowl, but before I do my part as an American and tune in to The Big Game, I must say this:

JENNIFER HUDSON ABSOLUTELY SANG THAT SHIT.

Why, I almost cried. I definitely had to clutch my pearls on that one.

That is all.

Next Up: Getting My Obama T-Shirt

Whew. That was a hectic few days. A lot of tears were almost-shed. Ok, I'm lie-telling. When the First Couple danced I cried a little. It's that black love...

My dumb ass missed the actual swearing-in: I was asleep, but I woke up in the middle of his speech and STILL got goosebumps. Then, later on at work, I youtubed the oath (*cringes at the awkward mess-up*) and watched a live-feed of the ball.

Ponder: there are big-screen TVs EVERYWHERE at work, yet I still had to watch the festivities on the internet during halftime of the game I was supposed to be watching. While getting furtive glances from my melanin-deprived co-workers. I was semi-loud, too, saying stuff like, "Ooh, look at Michelle's dress!" and "Aww, they're dancing" and "Omg Sasha and Malia are too CUTE." In my head I was thinking, "I DARE any of you to say something. NOT today."

Plus I had on my "Super Obama" pin.

Of course there are still some racist people out there saying dumb things, but that still doesn't change the fact that he's EVERYONE'S president...Obama is the, if I may be so bold, HBIC, and there ain't nothing y'all can do about it.

I can't help but feeling a crazy amount of pride about being black. For the longest time, a black president was this faraway, "someday" notion--a someday that no one but the most idealistic among us could see. It was the last threshold across which a black person could not or had not step. And I think it gave some people security: "Whew, black people are coming up, but we've still got the presidency." Well, not anymore. We are LEGIT, dammit. Too legit, in fact, to quit.

In terms of race, things are clearly nowhere near perfect. But all this, I think, allows for discussions about race to be had that white people/the majority never had to have before, which can only be a good thing. Where we could once push race under the rug, it is now front and center, unavoidable because the highest power in the free world belongs to a man with brown skin (like me!). Hopefully these developments will not only cast black people in a better light and change perceptions of us, but open the door for thoughtful discussions about race in which there is no right or wrong, no "why do black people do this or that" but honest dialogue.

My dad has an old, yellowed newspaper in the basement from the day Nelson Mandela was released from prison. Today I bought one of Barack Hussein Obama being sworn in as the first black president of the United States.

Welcome to the White House, Mr. President. We've been waiting for you.

A Little About "Meme" (Get it?)

Much love to the Brooklyn Boy for this meme! Read and be amazed while I watch the Lakers take on the Cavaliers (after spending ALL DAY at work watching four basketball games back-to-back. There is something wrong with me). Plus, tomorrow, we get to welcome Barack to the Oval Office! I'll be at work, though...basketball waits for no man. Thank God for online TV!

THE BLOG
1. How often does "this would make an awesome blog post" factor in to your decision-making process?

-Erm, when stuff happens I tend to think "ooh I can blog about this!" But in actuality, many times I just open up the comp and start writing...well, it's more like, I file interesting stuff away to write about later. If it's something I'm really passionate about, I know that if I write it right, the resulting post will be (hopefully!) awesome.

2. If one person were to find your blog, deduce it was you and read it in entirety, who would most send you into full-on crisis management, and why?

-That actually happened last year: Homeboy (new name in the unlikely event I mention him again: The Smoker) found it and 'twas pretty much disastrous. So I'd have to say if a guy that I have a crush on and wrote about read it, there would be a CODE-RED affair. But besides that I'd have to say--and it's so typical--my parents. Night-freaking-mare.

THE AUTHOR
1. How long have you worn glasses?

*laughs* Oh, gosh...since I was 9 or 10, I think...and I'm 20 now...so almost half my life! It's to the point where I think I look funny without them because I've worn 'em so long!

2. What's something about you most people don't/wouldn't notice, but you're quite proud of?

-Hmm...I can't think! Let's see...my ab strength, maybe? I'm always eating and laying around so you wouldn't think it, but I can do sit-ups, crunches, leg lifts, all sorts of things. Now if I could get around to actually DOING them...I swear I have a six-pack under here...somewhere...

THE RANDOMNESS
1. If, for the rest of your life, you could only ... read blogs without commenting or comment without being able to read anything but the post title, which would you choose and why?

-Read blogs without commenting all the way. I'm kind of a lurker by nature, anyway: sometimes people don't see me, but I sure as shootin' see them!

Here are the rules (I think): Write "interview me!" in your comment and I'll send you some questions. I hope y'all had...WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH KOBE???

GOTTA. GO.

PS--I'm gonna recap "The Game" again, I think...look out for it...