Call Me So I Can Make it Juicy For Ya

Yes, Lil' Wayne. Yes.

I just downloaded Weezy's Tha Carter III and Lloyd's Lessons in Love last night and WOWZA. I'm not that big of a Wayne fan, but both of them are already on the Ipod. Lloyd's album is, simply put, that hot, HOT shit. "Year of the Lover" is like Chris Brown's "Take You Down" to the next level of sexayness:

I'm a catch you in the shower while you dripping wet.
I'm a come and kiss your neck, you gon' kiss mine back.
How sexy is that?
Rub your 'til you're dry, put your body on the counter.
You gone say, "Do that daddy." I'm gon' say, "Okay Mama."
Wrap you in a towel and bring you over to the bed.
I'll watch you spread and get in between your legs.
Now, I know that you won't give my loving to no other man.
We on top of the covers...

Boy, stop! And that's just one verse! It's official. Mr. Long Hair Don't Care could definitely have it if he so chose.**

**Hell, Chris Brown could, too, now that I think about it. Ok, ok, I always think about it. I bet they both could put it down...sorry, I'm stopping. I can't help it. Honest. It's like I have dirty-mind Tourette's Syndrome or something.

I can only say so much in this post because this song clouds my mind and turns me into a puddle on the floor and that amount of viscosity is not conducive to typing. Also, I have other non-sex song related things to do. For example, I have a paper due tomorrow which I am TERRIFIED to turn in (let's just say I didn't do so hot on the last one. Or two). So any and all good vibes tuned my way would be greatly appreciated.

D&G versus The Nuddy-Pants

The Young Lady just posted about the ironclad principle of looking positively and satisfyingly FLAWLESS upon the first time seeing that omnipresent Ex Who Did You Dirty. I myself have walked down this road many a time, with mixed results. I once ran into Tex wearing sweaty gym clothes. Before I went into the gym, mind. So I didn't even have the pleasure of looking flushed and radiant, but instead, um, bloated. But on the other side of things, the infamous night when the Runner should have, by all accounts, been trying to put the moves on me but didn't, due to what can only be attributed to him being a pansy**, I decided to raise the stakes by wearing my troublemaking outfit-complete with black leather boots and a lingerie-style top. Yes, his eyes appropriately popped out of their sockets, but for some reason he remained annoyingly chivalrous. The fucker.

**This situation aside, though, he really is a nice boy. Well, when he wants to be.

Anyway, I have yet to completely master the art of looking jaw-droppingly sexy in order to exact revenge. My clothes can demand attention, or at least an appreciative once-over, when I put my mind to it. The first time I hung out with Homeboy I wore a miniskirt that had obviously ulterior motives. Motown Lover saw it and said, "Well-played. Good job," because, well, I have great legs. Let's not be churlish, here. So yes, when I remember to, I can play the game. But most of my clothes are casual; 95% of the time, I'm wearing jeans. At least 50% of my wardrobe is of the denim persuasion. Most of the time I rely on sleeveless tops, tousled hair, and shameless flirting to get the job done, because mission will probably not be accomplished with a t-shirt, torn jeans and flip-flops alone.

I have a point somewhere...oh yes. Because I've been flirted with and ignored by guys** while wearing both sweats and cute sundresses, I've come to the conclusion that clothes can only do so much when it comes to dating-related situations. I should know. I used to be the girl who went clubbing in plain cotton t-shirts and jeans (looking back, though, I don't quite know what the hell I was thinking) and still had a fun-ass time. It's that knowledge that lets me be just as comfortable in shorts and a tank top as I am in a dress and heels. If I were to ever actually wear a dress with heels to something other than a fancy event or special occasion, that is.

**Now that I think about it, the first time I met Tex I had beastly allergies, my inaugural meeting with Science Guy had me wearing totally unsexy, cold-weather gear, and the last time I ran into the Runner, I had on, you guessed it, sweatpants. Universe, if you're listening, that's a little unfair.

Again with the rambling. I do love the idea of looking drop-dead gorgeous in the face of adversity or ex-boyfriends, it's just a formula that I haven't figured out yet. If you want to get technical with it, I hold much more store in things like perfume, soft skin, or delightfully mussed hair. I have a theory (again, for dating-type situations, not necessarily in everyday life): you wear hot clothes to get attention to meet somebody and eventually get naked with them. So why not instead spend money and effort looking good NAKED? Or nearly naked! Clothes are just the wrapping paper, it's the gift INSIDE that counts, people!

LOL. Is everyone still present and accounted for? Good. Let us battle on.

My brilliant hypothesis aside, I have to say that recently I have paid more attention to what I wear; despite my theory, I can't just walk around starkers, you know. Plus I had the internship and job and had to portray some semblance of sophisticosity. And with that, I must admit that if I ever had to confront an ne'er-do-well ex, I wouldn't mind doing it in something like this:



I LOVE the simplicity of a stunning little black dress.



I couldn't find the designer of J-Hud's dress anywhere, but Halle's and Mandy's is Dolce and Gabbana. I refused to use a picture of a model wearing this dress, 'cause I couldn't find one with enough curves to rock the dress the way it was meant to be rocked. And damn that Halle Berry: she was pregnant when this picture was taken! If I had the means, motive, and opportunity (not to mention the guts) to do so, I'd wear this dress everywhere. I'd be "the girl in the glasses who wears that little black D&G to, like, the dentist."

Note: you may be wondering why I'm still awake, blathering on about life's minutiae. Firstly, if you've been paying attention AT ALL you know that I stay up too late for my own good. Also because when I took a break from packing I never started up again, and as a result I can't quite locate my bed. So here we are.

My 15 Minutes

I could be famous.

After tonight's award ceremony at which I and others received various recognitions, I decided that being adored agrees with me. With my dad, too, apparently, since people were shaking his hand as much as mine. I had to give a speech, yo. Dad did too, for reasons unknown, but he and I had a blast, working the room and having fun doing it. People couldn't wait to wring my dad's hand, either. He's extremely tall and it was a sports function so I think they mistook him for a former NBA guy, or something (which actually happens a lot). There were also some big journalism names there telling me how proud they were of me, which was awesome.

Some lady came up to my dad and said, "Congratulations, sir, you have a great daughter. And she's just adorable!"

Why yes, lady, I wanted to say, I am damn cute.

But of course, every fun night in high heels has its mini-snag: a guy came over to me with his HOT AND TALL FRIEND in tow, both to congratulate me. I could barely get discernible words out as he complimented me and shook my hand. But where a girl savvier than I would have turned that into a perfect opportunity, my dad had to go all, "Hey [Lucky] come meet such-and-such" on me. Jeez.

That being said, after taking stock of the events of the past few days, I have decided that, yes, I, shy, sometimes wallflowery Lucky, could do famous.

Cutting My Teeth

I took a much-needed nap meant for two this afternoon. I was in a romantic mood today. I don't know why. At work I came across some massage oil with dice in them, one with a naughty verb and one with a body part. "KISS her BACK" and "NIBBLE his EARS," et al. And later I got some all over my hands. Occupational hazard, I suppose, along with testing perfumes and knocking over a shelf full of spare garter belt clips (true story).

I'm letting Youngest Sister watch a movie with a lesbian couple in it. In a house that still spells out "s-e-x." Is that wrong? I don't want to scar the child because I'm a hippie.

On Friday the interns from TV Station, along with Website Girl went to cover Cool Music Event, which, I'll tell you, was the Warped Tour, sponsored by Vans. Very hipster, "emo," punk, pop-rock, kind of deal. Lots of great bands have graced its stage, and I've kind of always wanted to do but never had the motive, means, or opportunity. Going as a part of the press (complete with super-cool press pass), was completely fun. I got to interview: Jimmy from Every Avenue-so nice, a shaggy blond sneaker-head, Sashi from Gym Class Heroes** (I was quite annoyed that frontman Travis didn't do any press)-cool guy but probably shy in real life, and had a side conversation with Derek, the drummer from Family Force Five. I didn't even know he was in a band, we'd just started chatting about the weather and ended up having a 15-minute conversation. I don't remember the rest of the bands I met. Most of them and lesser-known, and that's the great part about smaller venues and un-famous folks: once you're near them (credentials are the hard part) most of the members are refreshingly unpretentious-honored and lucky to have the chance to do what they love.

One of the more fun ones was a British band called TAT. A girl and two guys, all very fun (Tatiana, the lead singer, made me feel her boobs-during the interview). Even though I screwed up their names, we turned it into a joke and had a really fun on-camera interview. They got a kick out of me using the word "smidge," apparently it's a British saying as well. Afterwards, the band told me that ours was "better than some of the other ones we've had." So that was comforting; I have a phobia of being filmed. We ran into issues with band management and might not be able to use the video, just audio, so we shall see. I have to say, though, it was the hottest day of the week during WT, so I'm sure my sweaty brow looked darling. And the place was so filthy I was overdressed in my plaid frock and gladiator sandals. Hot as hell, but a good time. I went to say I went. [Pictures soon of GCH's set].

My sincerest apologizes, I seem to be exhausted. That nap for two wasn't as effective as I'd hoped. I've been running on close to E for the past week; you can probably tell on-sight that I've been burning the midnight oil...

***I will forgive Travis for our interview that wasn't because GCH's set was in-fucking-credible. Enough energy to power a stadium. They played songs from their upcoming album, The Quilt, but they finished with "Cupid's Chokehold." And at the end, Travis grabbed the mike, and asked the audience to do him a favor: "Have a nice fuckin' day!"

Hanging On, but Just Barely

This is how I look and feel right about now.

I haves a headache, my legs still hurt, and I still have loads to do before my head can come anywhere near a pillow.

Spent most of the day at TV Station stuffing those damned envelopes again, and this time without the pleasure of Sarcastic Intern's company; she's in LA with her boyfriend. Must be muthafukkin nice.

You'll have to excuse me once again, I really am exhausted and my room looks like the Titanic after the that nasty run-in with the iceberg.

I had another celebrity man-candy dream again last night, this time about Lil' Wayne. He was really nice and he gave me a ride in his Hummer. And no, I didn't mean that as a sex euphemism or anything. For once.

People I barely know continue to say complimentary things about me because of the scholarship, which is really quite flattering. Apparently this is the first year this scholarship has ever been given out, which, in case you didn't know, makes me kind of a big deal. LOL. Just kidding.

I really do have work to do tonight; some stuff for The Paper and with my other internship for Local Record Label. Also, I work on Saturday and have to cover a downtown festival this weekend for TV Station. Whew! Didya catch all that?

I feel there will be another long letter-type post coming up soon. I haven't decided if I want to air that particular bit of proverbial dirty laundry on this blog yet.

That being said, I must bid y'all adieu for tonight, I'm pooped. Happy 4th of July, eat some barbecue and crack a brewsky in my honor (or, better yet, something with tequila. No drinky-poos for me until I get back to school, ha)!
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeffffffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeertr

Whoops, sorry. Almost fell asleep sitting up. My bad. Leaving, now.

Loose Ends

When things wrap up or end in my life, I like them to be wrapped and tied neatly. I hate loose ends; they can either fascinate me or drive me bonkers. Like those books my mom gave me when I was younger where you could make up your own ending? I hated them with a passion. When I can't find something, I go crazy. Like, at school, I couldn't find my flatiron in the 12x12 space of my dorm room, and it was the most frustrating thing, ever (I still can't find it. That room was like a Black Hole for hair tools). And now, the same thing is happening: at work, there's a soundtrack that we play every day, seemingly. I like the songs on there, there's some Amy Winehouse, Corrinne Bailey Rae, and India Arie, plus the theme song from Grey's Anatomy (weird, right? I'd never heard the song without the show). Here in lies the problem, though; there are two songs I like enough to download, but I can't figure out the artist or title to either one! No one who works there knows, either (actually I don't think they care too much. I try to listen out for the lyrics to Google them, but nothing's coming up! There has never been a song that I liked that I couldn't find, and I will NOT be defeated by these two! But seriously, it's making me batty.

Last night I had a dream about Chris Brown. Of course I don't remember anything important, except for me looking up to see him standing there, looking just like this. Like, this picture, in the deliciously, taut, sweaty flesh. Yum-o. Needless to say, that was a good dream. I don't remember him saying anything. But we know I like them dumb and hot (ha).

I just lost my train of thought.

Oh, now I remember. My resolve was close to being shattered at work today. All these couples and ladies buying bridal lingerie and other sexy stuff kept coming in and fucking with my head. Like, enough so that I almost ducked behind the a panty display to text the Runner. WTF, right? Sometimes I am weak.

If Only...

Can't you see this being me and my man (and my Blackberry C)?




"Wait, babe, do I just scroll back up? I want to get to that first screen again. No, the one with the...oh, okay, I see. Thanks. Stop laughing, I told you I suck at the little rolly-ball thing..."

I'm Just Sayin'

I'm watching Madea's Family Reunion right now after work, the scene where Lisa and her abusive fiance, Carlos are at the restaurant on a double-date, and he's all, "I love you...to death," and basically threatening her. Not to trivialize her struggle, but girl, did you forget that you are a grown-ass woman!? You definitely could have been like, "Yeah...I'm not going home with you tonight, buddy, I'm going with our friends. Matter of fact, we're finished and go to hell." Just a suggestion.

Now it's the Frankie and Vanessa "happy in love" montage. Boris Kodjoe is gorgeous even with that ri-damn-diculous Afro wig. Stupid co-workers! Not telling me that he stopped by the studio!

Speaking of work, Website Girl's intern was doing a phone interview next to me, and I wasn't really paying attention until I heard her say, "So, do you ever get to work directly with Kimora?" Kimora?? As in, Lee Simmons?!?!?! Turns out Curly-Haired Intern was interviewing a Baby Phat designer (who only rarely sees KLS, by the way). Still, that was enough for me. WG's interns are their own well-dressed little clique. I could try a little harder to make conversation. Maybe I'm just jealous because they have, I dunno, things to do. Even though I might have an interview with a local rapper soon, thanks to Website Girl. She's actually not bad. Just really busy, I guess.

I really dig that song by Carrie Underwood "Before He Cheats." The worst thing I ever did to an a-hole ex was...I mean, it was more playfully mischievous than bad, I didn't "scratch my key into the side/of a pretty little souped-up/4-wheel drive" like Carrie did, but, well, never mind. Heh.

There were these shirtless guys playing basketball across the street when I came home this afternoon. Okay, okay, I got an eyeful. Oh, whatever. Like you wouldn't have looked.

Surprise, Surprise

Being in the media does have its perks. A few of the interns may be covering a Cool Music Event in July (of course I don't want to jinx it, as is my way). I'm excited. I spent the entire day researching bands. And by that I mean going on endless Myspace searches and whatnot. A lot of the music sounded the same, but I did find a few lil' gems that made their way onto my iTunes, and consequently, into my heart. I found a cover of RiRi's "Umbrella," a song called "She's a Lady," which I like, and an act named Jeffree Star, who I'm pretty sure is a tranny. And you know me, I love anything drag, so between that and the pink hair, I was hooked.

I want a new book from the library but the last time I went and managed to stall some more, the lady at the desk blacklisted me. Now I can't check out any more items until I pay my outstanding fine. I mean, honestly. The library policy is that you're allowed to check out books with a fine under $15 (without getting harassed for it, either!). They used to not even tell you that you had a fine, thus allowing the amount owed to get bigger and bigger. Which is how I got into this mess in the first place.

When I told my dad that Amy Winehouse is set to perform at Nelson Mandela's 90th birthday, he made me pull her up online, so of course I showed him the Valerie video. He was impressed, but did ask if that was her look or was she "just having a bad hair day?" Oh, Dad.

Oh, it's raining. Cats and doggy-style. Time to go cuddle up. Any takers or will it be me and Harry Potter?

"She's a Lady" by Forever the Sickest Kids

I'm in love with a girl I hate,
She enjoys pointing out
Every bad thing about me
I'm in love with a critic and a skeptic.
A traitor,
I'd trade her in a second

She's a backseat driver,
A drama provider,
An instant update of the world
Shes a first class liar,
A constant forgetter
(She's attractive, but bitter)

Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby,
Don't return to me,
If you think that I'm not worth your time.

She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with.
She's a lady,
And ladies,
Shouldn't be messed with.

Take off your shoes,
Come in the room,
And baby let's try not to argue,
Turn out the lights,
Turn on the radio,
How can we fight when I'm too busy loving you,
I'm too busy loving you
I'm too busy loving you

Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby,
Don't return to me.
If you think that I'm not worth your time.

She's a lady,
And ladies,
Shouldn't be messed with.
She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with.

Here I am,
There you go again,
Again
And we will not ever be eighteen again, again

And I'm worn out of fighting,
And every night you leave crying,
And I could use some time.
And here I am,
There you go again. (again)

So here I am I'm dying,
And I'm waiting for you,
Waiting for you.
Come back, come back to me,
And I'll take you gladly.
And I'll take you where to go.

Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby.
Don't return to me,
If you think that I'm not worth your time.

Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around turn around baby, don't return to me.
If you think that I'm not worth your time.

She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with
Shes a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with

It's Worth it, I Swear

A few lil' tidbits:

-I am still searching for the Blackberry C. I've been on Craigslist for God knows how long sending out emails. One guy just texted me saying that his had been sold. Yay for the quick response, boo for the bad news. And plus, after he told me, he went all, "So, how's your night?" and tried to, like, have a convo! Sir, sir, sir, no. I don't want to have to throw you in the douchebag file, but please don't force my hand.

-The BET Awards were mildly entertaining, moreso than the foolywangery of years past and of other BET events, like the fuckery that was this year's Spring Bling. Of course Chris and Rihanna were there:



(This is them rehearsing, even though they performed separately. Boy, you so professional! Who am I kidding? I'd still hit.)

When he performed "Take You Down," I literally (and slightly embarrassingly) screamed. And the camera totally panned to Rihanna, who was in the audience and, of course, cheering for her man. When Rihanna performed, Captain Obvious Camera got a shot of Chris singing along while she performed "Take A Bow." I almost passed out from the cuteness of it all. Of course RiRi's outfit was fly as hell, too. Swoon. Al Green's performance of Love and Happiness was possibly the best moment of the show; no one can cue the black backyard barbecue-style dancing in the aisles quite like Reverend Al (FYI: this is an old clip, but you get the idea). I can't wait to see tomorrow's blogosphere's rundown of the event. Unfortunately I will be at TV Station, but I just know the recaps on YBF and Crunk and Disorderly will provide hours of relaxing, entertaining enjoyment when I get home. And I just know the stans are ready to rip Beyonce a new one for not performing like she was rumored to. I'm over her anyway. Girl, bye!

-I need to find something to wear to internship tomorrow. Because the weather around here infamous for changing on a dime, it could either be ridiculously hot or furiously rainy. Le sigh.

-Sidenote: In the very near future I think I might "redecorate" this blog. 'Tis time for a change, no?

A Long and Fruitful Life

Don't stone me! Don't send me to the gallows! I know I've been ghost, well, it feels like I've been. I've been super-duper busy and therefore tired as all get-out. But I did see all the comments everyone left about the letter and I appreciate them. When you're embarking on a soul-searching revolution (oh yes, it's that big), it helps to have a cheering section.

Anywho, I will say that Monday was a particular brand of bitch. I interned at the station from 10 until 5, drove home, changed clothes, and went to VS to help set up for the monumental sale we have every year. I love this sale, I have spent copious amounts of dollars at that sale. But I had no idea how much work it takes to put it together. Just like I had no idea we'd be there until 6:30AM setting up the store. By the end, I was a zombie. All I remember is my fried brain being like, "Blah blah Appletini yaddy yaddah Halo perfume it's hot as hell in this store Very Sexy hoo-hah so tired yakkety-yak can i go home now?" And then I had to come back to the store at noon to work again. You do the math. It was a lot.

I will be up at that sale using my discount, though. There are pieces from the Sexy Little Things, Body, and Angels collections with my name all over them. And I haven't even gotten to the Beauty department yet! There is serious work to be done, yo.

Interning is a refreshing change because the work is kind of spread out. Like I spent today on wikipedia looking up various assassinations, just because my work was done and I had nothing else to do. I covered Lincoln, JFK, Diana Princess of Wales, and John Lennon for good measure. Next time I might make it to Jimmy Hoffa and Selena, or the story of the Russian royal family, you know, the one that Disney movie Anastasia was based on. Fun times.

I'm also sad to report that Honey the hamster is no longer with us. She was Little Sister's responsibility, but she spent most of her life in her cage, doing her own thing. She was cute. I'd take her out occasionally. But, ah, Honey, I hardly knew ye. Rest in peace, my furry little friend.



This was back when she was just a little chicken nugget of a thing. She grew to about the size of a small Nerf ball.

Tomorrow is Middle Sister's birthday. I hope it goes better than her last birthday, when we got into a huge fight. You know the kind. The type you only have with your family members, that you don't even like to think about because the awful memory of the things each person said is enough to bring tears to your eyes? Yeah, it was one of those. So let's wish for better things, shall we?

Funny story. My Intern Boss passed around his camera because there was a picture of "some guy...everyone wanted a picture of him. Does anyone know who he is?" No one knew, and finally I asked to see it. It was a picture of the (tall and sexy) actor Boris Kodjoe, who apparently had stopped by the effing studio earlier that day! I was like, are you kidding? They had never heard of him or seen him at all. I had to pull up his Imdb listing. He's so tall, they thought he was a third-string Piston. SMH.

After my last post, I feel like I have to top that one with an even better one, and feel as if I'm failing miserably, LOL. Y'all will just have to settle for regular ole Lucky today. Other than being extremely tired yet happy be be bloggin' again, I'm just sailin' along.

It's Kind of Hot, Isn't It?

Lordy but today was positively sweltering. But ice cream on a hot Saturday is the best remedy (thanks, Auntie! [Little Cousin's mom]). Still, instead of holing up to watch Grey's for hours (well, after a few episodes), I went to Target to buy a Father's Day present for Dad. He's just like me to shop for: on our birthdays or whatever, both of us ask for what we actually need. Like socks or undershirts or sports bras (well, that's me, obviously). And it's totally a genetic thing: Granddad, my dad's dad, asked for long johns last Christmas. I really am my father's daughter. Like yesterday, for example. You know the scene in that Amanda Bynes movie "What a Girl Wants" where she and her dad don't notice that they're mirroring each other's movements perfectly? Well that's how we were...it was pretty funny. He really is the best dad ever (to go along with the best mom ever, of course).

At Target there was this tall, Black, handsome grandpa walking with his wife and wearing black Converse All-Stars. I know I smiled like a huge dork when I passed him 'cause seeing him in those shoes just made me happy.

Little Cousin and I watched "Terminator" yesterday, his favorite movie du jour. I never realized how misogynistic that movie is. That or the horrendous hair and clothing. I guess I kept articulating it while we watched, and I guess LC picked up on it. When he watched it later with Middle Sister, he was like, "Her hair is so 80s!" Impressionable, much?

The rudeness! I'm watching "Hairspray" and Michelle Pfifer's character just asked if the musical sounds of [my city] were "the cries of people being mugged?" It's not right, but it's okay! That's why our motto is "We Don't Like You Either." Bitch.

Amanda Bynes is so cute, ever since "Ask Ashley" and "The Amanda Show."

You know what is sad? I was aimlessly wheeling my shopping cart down the aisles at Target for a minute, daydreaming. The first thought that popped into my head when I snapped out of it was, "Let me stop wheeling around, I'm wasting gas." LOL, right? There's a reason why money issues are one of the main causes of divorce: it's on everybody's mind because prices of things are just ridiculous! I went to the movies last night (by myself, I needed to get away) and the ticket was $10! I almost snatched my money back, thinking, where in Republican-caused inflation hell did the $8 tickets go?! And when I went to 7-11 for some M&M's, they were $1 instead of 60 cents! That was the final straw of life. This has got to stop...times is hard, yo!

PS, Laundry Watch ain't over.

Ordinarily I am diametrically opposed to no-talent celebrities getting press and/or public attention, but I have to admit: today I watched a little of "Living Lohan," that show about Lindsay Lohan's mom trying to propel her other daughter (next meal ticket) into stardom. Most of the time I just shook my head like, "Lord, have mercy." But it wasn't totally vomitous. There was one scene where she went to this performing arts workshop and was hella uncomfortable because she was in the midst of people her age with REAL TALENT. The show had glimpses of actual reality (a sad rarity): Dina Lohan (White Oprah) is the quintessential embarrassing mom, and Ali Lohan is a typical bratty teenager. Even though I don't believe in pseudo-celebrities, I had to give that scene of"LL" a begrudging Well-Played. But when I saw a commercial of "True Hollywood Story: The Kardashians," it was another stab to my shriveled black heart.

They Say Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery

For my own enjoyment, I just gave myself a Winehouse-esque beehive. It's about 2 3/4 feet shorter than hers, but it does come with a drawn-on beauty mark, big bamboo earrings, and an a capella, impromptu performance of "Tears Dry on Their Own." Even my mother laughed and asked if I planned to leave the house with it on. Maybe, I said. Just maybe.

What ever happened to the little brother from "Spy Kids"? I've seen the daughter pop-up on occasion, but never the curly-haired sprite, Juni Cortez. Donde esta? Oh, wait...he grew up cute! And he's done a thing or two, I guess. Nicely done. But while we're on the subject, the mom in this movie is a hot piece.

I found a cute (read: fine as hell) boy on my Facebook-friend list, but I am concerned that he might be a homosexualist. I used to be able to tell, now I am covertly suspicious.

I'm afraid to report that I am once again under a tragic Laundry Watch Part 2. We're getting our laundry room re-tiled, so the washer and dryer are sitting in the garage for the time being. Luckily, I just bought some new work clothes (and no, they do not include Lucite heels or a Velcro velvet dress, ma'am!) so I should be good. I am, however, running out of that which goes under my clothing so, chop chop!

Escandolo!

Well, not really. Just pure comedy. I don't usually entertain publicity stunts or that "infotainment" stuff, but this video I just could not resist. The TV show basically puts "Z-Listers" completely on blast for, well, being on the Z-List. Kim Kardashian is on there, which brought a tear of joy to mine eye. Phoebe Price is on there too. SMH @ that Southern accent.



Hilar, right? I know. But what's not hilarious at all are these pictures and video of Amy Winehouse that came up that apparently show her and Blake in their alleged crack den. A former "friend" of Blake's sold the pictures to a British tabloid. Damn, right? I understand the paparazzi being all up in your biz, but when your friends sell you out for a quick buck, to me, is mean. But anyway, the pictures are kind of sad, frankly, a little sickening. I couldn't even watch the video, and don't even feel like posting the link. I mean, I was listening to "Frank" while I went on Dlisted! And the commenters on the post basically made more fun of her. I really, really, really hope AW gets her life together and stops doing drugs (I do wanna hear what her publicist has to say to cover Amy's ass, though!).

I also keep thinking about this one post I wrote awhile back (during Laundry Watch, I think). I took something small and dramatacized my own point of view, for the sake of giving readers a chuckle and a "this child is too much!" It didn't turn out that way, though; apparently I came across as this like, crazy lady. Which is never cute. I'd never lie on this blog (if I have to lie about something, I'd just leave it out, natch) but I must re-iterate: don't take me too seriously. It will only give you a headache and I will look crazy, which we all know I'm not. Most of the time :)

Today was also my first day on the floor at VS. I worked in the fitting room and as a cashier. Working the register is something I can do without, but the FR was hectic and fun. It will be more fun once I'm able to decipher between the Body by [V] Demi Cup Push Up and the Very Sexy Extreme Push Up, or whatever. There's like 14 bras and this whole system to follow, and...it's a lot. But like I said, I like it. Know what else I like? The fact that I got the new BioFit Uplift bra today, for FREE. Yes, free and clear (of course I double checked). Retail value: well, far, far from free. I effin' love my job. Accidentally, though, I forgot to clock out until after I rang it up, which the manager rather curtly warned me against for the future. My bad, girl! I also need to work on saying terms like "nipple coverage" and "panty box" with a straight face (and yes, those are actual phrases).

Tomorrow is a family celebration to celebrate my cousin's engagement. It should be fun; maybe I'll take a tape measure and practice bra fitting on my aunts. Oh, the hilarity.

If I Didn't Love Her Before

I have the biggest girl-crush on Amy Winehouse. Well, maybe her and Rihanna are tied. I especially love this picture of her:



I mean, how freakin' cool does she look? It even says in the caption that the shirt she's wearing is actually her own. Why she has a shirt with famous black sorors on it, I have no idea. But rock on, b*tch!

And also I'm obsessed with this video:



It's an interview, but the last 2:14 are gold; it's an outtake of her singing "Valerie" (which we already know I love). Look how she's smiling. Her voice is effortlessly awesome. Oh, my God.

Ok, I'm done now. But seriously, how cute is she in her interview?!

The world has been made right!!

Taking a break from packing, I stumbled across this photographic gem. Behold:




Yes, people, it is none other than Chris Brown and Rihanna all hugged up at KFC. *sigh* Now that is black love...watch, that's gonna be me and my man someday, looking all cute at Popeye's!!

Wow. Lawd, that sounded a little too country for my liking...Jesus take the wheel and get me back above the Mason-Dixon Line, STAT!

Also, when did Usher get sexy?



I keep forgetting that he's short. Tiny detail. Haha, I said "tiny."

You know you laughed.

Food for Thought

Going Down in Flames, Thanks Guys!!!: Hyper-agressive, Hyper-sexualized: the American Black Man

Check out Top Chef's blog post for today. It's something that I've thought about, but never really devoted the time to converse about. Usually, I talk about things such as this with my dad, but I've been too busy. The first thing I thought when I saw the Vogue cover (besides, "I hate the Cavaliers!" of course) was, "Why is he wearing sweats?" After that, I knew I wasn't the only one to think that. However, more people were concerned with the overall image of once again, the black brute juxtaposed with the angelic white woman. The aggressive stance, the screaming face, the evidence is there. I'm interested in Vogue's and A-Dubs' (Anna Wintour) response because I haven't heard any response to the tremendous amount of backlash that the cover received. It was the annual "Shape" issue which already causes a stir because of its blatant political overtones (as in, oh, see, we do care about fatties!), but the uproar was over the size of the so-called "plus-size" models, not the cover. That alone speaks volumes; the fact that no one (read: the masses, read: the non-black masses) don't care/see the issue that the cover raises, which means that it is an acceptable image to see a roaring black man in sweats holding onto a sweet-faced white model in a designer gown. And therein lies the problem. Again, my question is this, why hasn't Vogue, LeBron, or Gisele said anything more concrete? Perhaps they weren't expecting the uproar over the cover, in sort of a "wtf? we put a black guy on the cover? isn't that enough?" way. Perhaps that's the case, but a statement nonetheless is appropriate in this case. In the words of dear Cali Girl, "silence is violence." No one saying anything, Vogue in particular, indicates, to me, at least, that they don't care enough to at least acknowledge the stir the cover caused, or even that they are willing to admit that they see where the throngs of complaints are coming from. Maybe that was the magazine's intention. Maybe they knew exactly what they were doing with the image, which is why they've been so tight-lipped. As a fair-minded person, I'd like to hear Wintour's side of the story. An apology or statement would indicate that the complaints aren't going unnoticed, at least.

I did a little preliminary digging, and found some Vogue spokeperson saying that the shot was fun, energetic, and upbeat. I kind of want to slap her. James said he was just showing a little emotion, who cares what anyone thinks? (And that is why I hate Ohio. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll stay on topic).



My personal opinion is that the cover is, admittedly, a little much, and although I'm not too worked up about it, I can see why there's controversy. I did do a *side eye* when I saw the cover because to not, in this racially-charged society, question (at least a little) the possible implications of such a picture would be naive of me.

Later, I will dedicate another post to more lighthearted fare like eyebrow waxing, the Boy, and the A- that I got on my Shakespeare midterm (score, right?!). But now's not the time. Stay tuned, though; Lucky's gotten herself a bit worked up about various things, and that doesn't bode well for anyone involved...

Fun Day

Another eventful, yet relaxing day as the Pistons grace my television screen.

Spent the whole day in the hair salon today. Whew. At least my hair looks nice. There was this lady there who worked out a lot and ended up having to get a relaxer and a haircut. It was soooo cute! It was a maturer woman's version of Rihanna's cut. And we know that anything related to RiRi is okay with me.

At Border's, I found a black historical romance novel--a rarity. I think I had an embarrassingly loud and happy reaction and, duh, bought it on the spot. The happiness continued when I went to Ulta today and got my nail polish (yay). Black Cherry Chutney here I come. The downside is that the suburban strip mall is hellacious to navigate, what with those soccer moms in their minivans driving like it's coupon day at Kroger's or something; I got honked at--twice! I did have a mini freak-out when I saw this attractive black couple strolling hand-in-hand; they were so cute! All I could do was sigh (scream) "Black love!" to my windshield.

This Taken Boy situation is getting a little sticky. How much of a microcosm is any action committed through Facebook, though? I mean, a general rule of thumb is that nothing's 100% official until it appears in your news feed, but then again, it is only Facebook, not the law. Or is it? And irony of all ironies, but the subject of Oprah today was the proverbial "other woman;" women who had or have had affairs (some were ongoing) with married men. I discreetly hung my head in shame as the guest psychologist read homewreckers everywhere for filth. But wait. We're putting the cart before the horse, here, I haven't done anything bad. Except flirt. And I didn't even start it. So I ain't no adultery-accomplice. My imagination is blowing this way out of proportion. I just need to keep things in perspective.

Remember yesterday's event that I neglected to mention? Well, here it is. Yesterday, Chauncey Billups, 3 time All-Star point guard of my Detroit Pistons, was at the mall answering questions and signing stuff. I didn't wait in the long-ass line because I didn't want to say anything dumb, but I surely took pictures of his sexy self (oh, yes, that stride and that deep voice is sexy on and off the court), which I will post when I get back to school; I stupidly left my connecting cord at school. As we watched, all I could think was, "Oh, my God he's fine. I have to marry an athlete."

Hell, I'd take Chauncey himself were it not for his wife and two adorable daughters. Not to mention, we're on a championship run, and it would be me against a whole city of supporters. And even I'm not that big a homewrecker to put my team in jeopardy...

I Should Come Up with Better Titles

Maybe it's sleep deprivation; I couldn't sleep last night. Whilst getting up to get a 4:30am snack, I stepped in doggy pee, so I had to clean that up before I could grab some saltines and some Girl Scout cookies...After that, I still couldn't catch any zzz's, so I read a little Eric Jerome Dickey ("Friends and Lovers"; it's not as good as "Milk in My Coffee" but we'll see) and listened to my Ipod. Was woken up by Middle Sister ironing her clothes at about 7am, then by Little Cousin standing over me, petting Precious the dog, scaring the hell out of me. He cackled as I remembered that I was on babysitting duty. That's the only reason I'm up before noon (or, okay, 3) when on Spring Break. He's in the other room watching "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" and munching on popcorn. Thank God this is a paid gig. I mean, he's family so I'd do it for free, but having a little shopping money is always a plus.

Ugh, one thing I hate about being home in the daytime is fielding calls from telemarketers, I mean, phone survey distribution managers. I used to work as one, so I feel their pain. Still, they are annoying. At least I was a real person, not a stupid machine.

Friday night is still on my brain. That's probably what kept me up last night, trying to fill in the gaps. Also, I couldn't decide whether or not, if this was Tree Hill, I was Peyton, who everyone roots for, and for all intents and purposes, deserves the taken boy, or Carrie, who is nothing more than the homewrecking nanny.


See? They are meant to be together even though he has a girlfriend.



Them two? Not so much. She really is the other woman.


See? Everything ain't so clear cut. And if you think it's silly to compare this to a TV show, well, there are no definite rules when it comes to relationships anyway. Some people ask their friends, some ask experts, I choose to refer to the CW.

Moving on, hopefully I can go shopping soon. I've already compiled lists of what I want from Forever 21, Old Navy, and Target. ON is going out of business, y'all. Sadder words have seldom been spoken, I freakin' love Old Navy. We know what this means though: SALE!!! I really want these cargo shorts, a cute tank, a pair of shoes, and a tote bag from there. I promise I will post pictures soon, along with yet another song leaked from Usher's upcoming album, a ballad (yay!) called "I Can't Win," written by Ne-yo. That Ne-yo can write the mess out of some songs; he is, after all, the mastermind behind the wonderful "Irreplaceable," performed by none other than Beyonce herself.

Again, another thing about being up during early afternoon is that there's nothing to do (read: there's nothing on TV, I left my DVDs at school, have no car and a 9-year-old to babysit). This is why I stay in bed until General Hospital comes on.

Desperately Seeking

A member of the male species available for requisite boyfriendy activities. Inquire within.

I woke up this morning afraid to face the day, but it wasn't half as busy as I thought. I have a meeting with a woman from a publishing group about a possible internship over the summer. In New York City, of all places! I want to work in the division with authors like Sophie Kinsella, who wrote the Shopaholic series, which I love, and Danielle Steel, and romance novels! That would be awesomely cool. Hopefully it goes well, I've been known to ace an application then subsequently blow the interview, so to speak. Well, actually, she ambushed me with an impromptu phone interview, and wonder of all wonders, she still wanted to meet with me afterwards. So I must bring the A-game. I really need an internship this summer...and the fact that it takes place in NYC, my dream city, is icing on the cake. Wait, Elements of Style abhors the phrase "the fact that." Revising: It's icing on the cake that the internship is in NYC.

And now, my daily Chrianna...nope, can't do the "blended couple-name" ish. Tried and failed. Anyway, here's the best picture of Chris and RiRi yet (thanks Young, Black, and Fabulous!)



Squeeeeee, right?!?!? Here they are in Jamaica, where yours truly wants to go soo badly. Reports say that the couple was playfully making out and Chris was kissing her neck (swoon) and held her above water like that so she wouldn't get her hair wet. Yeah, girl, I feel you! Even though if CB was smart he'd sweat out that perm anyway later that night :).

I finally got my hair done, praise Jehovah. Before I was wearing my new gray and burgundy knit beanie that Mom sent. As cute as it was, it was, admittedly, kind of homeless chic (especially worn with the requisite hoop earrings). I'ma kill 'em tomorrow. If I make it to bed soon.