I was honored to be a guest blogger over on HighCl…

I was honored to be a guest blogger over on HighClassJackass today.

Check it out.

-BB

Could We BE Anymore Fat-Assed?

Yesterday, NPR reported that a New Zealand firm is developing a car-shaped shopping cart that enables kids to watch videos while their parents shop. Typicals like Wal-Mart and Publix are testing them out. Oh before you raise any objections, dear Reader, don’t worry:

“…..Child-development experts are wary, but Cabco says offering customers the
carts can add as much as $100,000 to a store’s receipts.”

Glad everything’s in it’s right place.

Day Late, Dollar Short

Yesterday, as I’m hoping most of you already know, was the anniversary of the Katrina tragedy in New Orleans. There have been numerous “Where are we now?” news reports on N.O., but the fact of the matter is that most of the reports are about 59 minutes of bullshit, beating around the bush and one minute of the basic admission that “Yea, we fucked up and it’s going nowhere.”

David Denby’s review of Spike Lee’s HBO documentary on the anniversary is true-to-form and a must-read about the must-see.

“..anyone hoping to reclaim Katrina emotionally—to experience what the city
went through in all its phases of loss, anger, and contempt—needs to see
Lee’s movie, which is surely the most magnificent and large-souled record of
a great American tragedy ever put on film..”

-BB

Same As It Ever Was, Part Deux: The End

Of course, the last week before I move up to school I sit on my glasses and don’t even notice for 15 minutes because my ass is so big; and when I do, they are completely deformed and when I wear them I look like a wacky scientist.

Of course, the last week before I move up to school my contacts have expired so I must wear my glasses which are deformed so when people meet me, they will think I am a wacky scientist.

Of course, the last week before I move up to school I am utterly broke and don’t know how I will manage paying my movers the $600 in cash I owe them for the second half of my move. Nor do I know how I’ll even eat since I won’t receive my stipend and travel expense check until the 13th. and, of course, I need to get my hair did before I move, especially to lessen the wacky scientist look.

And of course in my last days here before I go more than halfway to Canada, things get serious with a boy below the Mason Dixon line. Yes, the boy and I have gotten pretty serious, much to my chagrin and pleasure. We’re somewhere in between strong crushes and falling into that four letter word. I’ve been more cautious for obvious reasons and this was not in the plan of my new life in a new town with a new purpose! It’s all muddled up and you know what? What did I do when it was getting more and more muddled up? Reader, I bedded the boy and now it’s all kindsa muddled.

And Reader, of course he’s a MGM. And not just any MGM. I didn’t smile and thank God more than I thought “Holy Shit” and took some deep breaths. To be honest, it’s a little too big but that’s just my “luck” dating a 6′7, 220 lbs giant. But he’s still like a gift from heaven: after the first time, he apologized for the apparently short time (but anything after 5 min is lucky to me) and said “but I brought more for later.” Can you imagine my glee?!

But it’s not even that. The boy is the first person I’ve made a real emotional connection with in the 2 years since I met my ex. He is the first person to remind me of my worthiness. I’ve been doing a pretty good job myself but it’s always nice when someone else sees it, too. He’s a stand-up North American Negro Male who’s worked against all the shit this country sets against black men, he’s passionate, no bullshitter, and we laugh together about crap. Here’s a first: I sang in front of him. I have a crackhead voice that scares the strongest of dogs, but the boy makes me feel so comfortable I don’t even care. Though he hasn’t asked me to sing again, but that’s ok…because I still will.

But I’m leaving and the boy is here, of course.

-BB

Silence = Death

(There would be a pic here but Blogger and I are having some technical difficulties)

While the idea-turned-reality of a woman with two cooters is jaw-dropping and the not-so-new-news not to marry a whoa-man if you want to be happy for the rest of your life is, well, not really shocking so much as annoying, it’s really a shame what ABC News highlighted this week and even bigger shame how little it’s been profiled.

Last night I watched ABC’s “AIDS in Black America: Out of Control” (I’m not too hot on that title, I think it steps too close to certain implications) where I learned that I am 23 times more more likely to be diagnosed with AIDS than white women; that the infection rate is 8 times the rate of whites; that of all women with in the States with HIV, 68% are black; that while I and my fellow black folk make up 13% of the U.S. population, we account for over 50% of all new cases of HIV; and almost 70% of all newly diagnosed HIV-positive women in the United States are black women.

Those are just a few stats but they barely touch the surface of this segment, inspired by the 25th anniversary of the first reported cases of AIDS. There are some significant causes behind this clearly emergency situation such as black men who have sex with men not telling their female partners, and those same men not using protection with either partner (because to pull out a condom perhaps acknowledges what’s not being said), black women not using protection with their black male partners many of whom have just been released from prison (where a disproportionate number of black men reside, where AIDS infection rates are 5 times higher, and where there are no comprehensive national testing, prevention, or treatment programs), and a gaping wide hole in the mostly conservative black community where a discussion of sexuality in all its orientations and practices should occur.

Aids in Black America – ABC

– BB

How ‘Bout I Don’t Fuckin Know, Alex?

A recent convo with my always choc-full-of-insanity friend, D. – looks like whites and blacks have different takes on everything….

D.: i was watching some bloopers show las nite — and they showed a clip from jeopardy – and the question was “this is a term used for a garden tool or a scadalous woman” — black guy answers and says “what is a ho, alex” — which was wrong…

me: so i guess its bad i thought hoe too

D.: the correct answer is rake

me: who calls a ho a rake???

D.: …..white people.

Update/ Major Correction – Looks like the man was actually white and D. wasn’t watching but listening from the other room and assumed he was black. Jesus.

THE ORIGINAL: Britney Spears acting very strange o…

THE ORIGINAL: Britney Spears acting very strange or

I love when she says she feels “really behind” in life. But then again, the clearly implanted silicone on top of her boobs is priceless.

Same As It Ever Was

Life is funny sometimes.

More to come on my time at the home with the fam in the former murder capital but first things first and that’s, as always, about the boy.

Yes, there has come to be a significant boy in my life and of course we meet 3 weeks before I’m departing “more than halfway to Canada” as he put it. We met at a mutual friend’s place, eventually exchanged numbers and all that…I figured I’d go out with him just because despite my fabulousness, I still get lonely sometime so maybe this will be fun. I didn’t expect much to come of it i.e. we’d speak on the phone once to set up a date, go on the actual date, and probably never see each other again. He’s also aware I’m leaving so I was wary that he’d look at me as some sort of easy jump-off. Not that there’s anything wrong with that but I’m just not interested in that at this time (I know, shocker).

Reader, that initial phone call started at 8pm and ended at 2am. And for the rest of the first week after we met, when our skeds kept conflicting, its been a high school flashback with us speaking on the phone every night for at least three hours…and then there’s the talking on AIM and commenting on each other’s Myspace and Facebook pages (also a good way to remind yourself of the other’s looks).

Last night was our first official date face-to-face. Again, we met up at 7:30pm, I got home at 1:30am. I can’t even relay what we talk about, the basics, the hidden truths, and the crap in short. I have a crush, he has a crush, there’s no question there. He’s a good kisser and, I mean please, so am I. He thinks I’ll get snatched up the day I set foot on campus; I think he’ll lose interest in me in a matter of weeks since that’s usually what happens. He hates that I think that. I hate that I’ve just met him. He’s offered to drive me up to Cambridge so I can stay in DC a little longer. I’m still debating on whether to take him up on that.

So here’s the conundrum and it’s not what you think: I don’t know nor can I say what will happen between us, if anything, once I leave. And I started out not wanting to have some casual sex thing and I still feel that way. But with these mutual semi-serious feelings and my high libido and my fantasies of some “9 1/2″ weeks affair, I’m starting to think this is my perfect chance to have a lover. Love/Sex affairs aren’t supposed to last but so long and here I am with exactly two weeks left and this guy who’s so sweet and so adorable and did I mention he’s a GI-normous 6′7 former college pro basketball player who looks like a man-god?

So I leave it to you, folks. I hope I get some comments here soon and fast cuz I’m stuck at a crossroads here and I need some direction.

Dutty Wine I don’t think I need to add much commen…

Dutty Wine

I don’t think I need to add much commentary for this. be disturbed. sigh.

Heat Wave of Horror!

This just in from my subtenant in Cambridge who made a recent visit to NYC -

“… It’s a long and kind of creepy story, but I found somebody dead in the 14th street metro stop (welcome to NYC, right?) and I would not be surprised to hear that’s heat-related. it was a lot less traumatic than you’d think. there was just this guy, sitting there in one of those funny little New York benches with dividers between the seats, all sprawled and stiff. it was a crowded platform, and everyone was giving him a wide berth. I thought, “Well, he looks dead. But maybe he’s not dead? Maybe he’s just hurt?” So I had to go up and ask him if he was all right. No answer, so I reached out and shook his shoulder a little. All creepy and cold, so I stopped to call the police and hung up before they got my name. I felt like such a mafia tipster.

Were the MTA workers on break? Damn.

Heat Spawns Death
Heat Index Makes It Sound Worse, for Health
East Continues To Broil
Emergency in NY as City Swelters