Archive for May, 2006

It’s Not Them, It’s Totally Me

Just got back from spending the long weekend (is it really long when you have no job?) with family and have left feeling loved, fed, and definitely planning to do whatever I can to NOT ever live at home.

So granted I’ve been MIA on here again. For a quickie ’til I can get down to the nitty gritty such as Nelly Furtado’s atrociously not ironic, “Promiscuous”, here’s a fun take on the ever-fun immigration debate, “Crackers from the Moon.”

If nothing else, watch it for the angry buffalo.

til then…..


May 31, 2006 at 3:52 am Leave a comment

Bed-Stuy Bi-Harmony*

Since I’ve been hanging around more locally and working on a very popular consumer strip of Bed-Stuy, I’ve been taking note of the culture and community. The local coffee shop next door to my job is a nice local spot where nearly everyone comes through at least once a day. It’s very family-friendly so a lot of hip parents bringing in their equally hip toddlers.

And in that vein, I noticed something even more “impressive.” Of course, this is Bed-Stuy so whenever I see white people, I definitely notice. In fact, for full disclosure and because I’m sure she’ll bring it up, the same day ms. jackass joined the area I noticed (I kid you not!) FOUR HIPSTERS getting off the subway at UTICA at ELEVEN O’CLOCK AT NIGHT. Even the neighborhood panhandler widened his eyes and stayed silent as they jollied past him. Now I know Ms. Jackass would grow a third boob before associating with Williamsburg vermin, but still, quite the coincidence.

Anyways, what I notice about most of the white people around here is that nearly all are young 20- or 30-something women and ALL of them (the ones I’ve seen) have biracial babies. And not no half-white, half-Asian or half-Czechoslovakian baby. No, each and every baby is COLORED.

Each time I see this, two things come to mind: one, there’s clearly a higher concentration of biracial couples here than in some other parts of the city; but, two, I can’t help but think that Bed-Stuy has become some sort of drop-off/haven for black men to bring their white baby mommas. And I don’t mean that in some “ghetto”-fied way. Most of these women are very hip, wearing well-over hundred dollar jeans, etc. But I have yet to see the fathers with these babies, it’s nearly always the mothers. Thus, the haven/drop-off image.

So it looks like Bed-Stuy has also earned yet another fab aspect – white women, colored babies, and the black men who love ’em (“but uhh, stay your white ass within a 5-block radius, bitch.”). On a more serious note, I wonder how many of ’em were coupled up in other parts of the city and felt less comfortable there. Not even the Upper East or West Sides – I mean, that’s just obvious what reception they’d get – but places more like the West Village or Park Slope where folks like to pat themselves on the back. Then when they’re tolerance is truly called upon, turns out they’re not as open as they thought. I can picture the looks or the overly-gushing over a white woman’s cute lil multicultural baby (touching their hair and all that). I can also easily picture a white mother of a black baby feeling a helluva lot more comfortable in a black neigborhood than a white one.

It’s like that old saying: “A white woman can have a black child, but a black woman can’t have a white child.”…think about it.

*I realize that said title above might evoke bisexuality rather than what I’m about to discuss but I couldn’t think of anything better. But please, feel free to suggest better terms for this racial rainbow town.

May 18, 2006 at 4:08 pm 5 comments

My Life’s Ambition

So while I’ve been enjoying la dolce vita off of the state of New York, I have had a bit of cabin fever and missing interacting with people. Yes, I go out, I see new things and all that crap but like everything else, shit gets old. So I decided to look for a non-demanding part-time job doing something I’ve always wanted to do but never got the chance.

Well, success! As of today, I am a part-time bookseller at Brownstone Books, a lovely local bookshop just 3 blocks from my place. The owner, Crystal, is a lovely woman looking to have a strong core in black books but wants to expand to carrying all sorts of titles and authors. She has an established customer set but the more the merrier so come on down and show her (and newly employed moi!) some love.

Sigh, it’s what I’ve always wanted. To have a job where I barely exert myself…

…But onto another matter. While I’ve been living la dolce vita, I’ve had a lot of time to take serious note of what the world has to offer those of us at home more often than not.

Here’s the tally:

Talk shows in the morning/ Judge shows in the afternoon
Life insurance
Prescription drug deals
Divorce, bankruptcy, car accidents and, of course, lead poisoning and cerebral palsy

An ITT Tech degree in air conditioning repair or somesuch
Jokes, horoscopes or *hot* messages texted to your phone
A phone call for when you’re *lonely*

These are the things that people assume those of us at home during the day and those of us up late at night are concerned with. These companies clearly think if you’re at home during the day, then you must be old, old and broke, or old, broke and decrepid; or you’re unemployed because you’ve been hit by a car and need a quick cheap lawyer and/or you’re sitting in front of the television while your kid eats the lead chips off the windowsill. Going by the talk and judge shows, I guess all of us need advice on how to sue that ex-roomie/boyfriend/spouse/family member for that $300 used to bail him/her out that crazy night and/or to figure out how to get the three guys you slept with to come with you to get a free DNA test on national television (“You are NOT the father!”).

What I especially love is that most of the ITT Tech get-your-degree-in-window-repair commercials don’t come on in the day when most of your unemployed would most likely be at home. No, these ads come on almost always after midnight snugged between an ad for a Tempurpedic (because if you’re up this late, it’s because you’re mattress is so shitty you can’t sleep) and an ad with a girl enticing you to “just pick up the phone and call” her. I guess these folks are thinking if you’re unemployed and looking for a job (which is just what some of these degree commercials say e.g. “Are you unemployed and looking for a job?”), you must be wired at night, losing sleep over your tragic fate. And on top of that, you’re horny as hell and your bed is on its last spring.

Broke, horny, shitty living. That was me when I had a job.

May 10, 2006 at 3:37 am 2 comments


So last March, NYU’s former druglord got off with probation for holding and dealing thousands of dollars’ worth of pot, cocaine and meth. And since only last week, I attended the screening of Lockdown, USA which featured Darryl Best’s sentence of 15 to life for signing for a Fed-Ex package containing cocaine, I have to vent my frustration and anger over the you-know-what disparity evident here.

I don’t even need to articulate what’s going on here. I’m just going to chalk it up to the classic, “What the fuck?!”…..

It’s not even that she deserves to go to prison for half of her life like her black brethren instead. It’s that her black brethren deserve the same “chance” and “bright future” that she was considered for.

And what a bright future she has.

I also love the look she had when she was hustlin’ and rock-slingin.’ …Cuz nothin’ says authentic like nylon and gold hoops.

May 9, 2006 at 4:53 pm 2 comments

Yo Man, I Bang Like Eighty Bus Drivers A Week, Son!

Sigh, I’ve recently come across a bit of not-completely gossip that I feel I need to share. I’d like folks’ opinions on this because I’m at a loss and perhaps it’s my gender or something else but here goes:

You know how in high school (I’m assuming here because I went to an all-girls’ school so I got most of my high school stereotypes from television), there’s some jocky cocky guys who boast about how many girls they nailed? Maybe in college, too? I’ve never come across any in real life so I’m really asking. Because in college and presently, the guys I’m around have never really done that. And no, I don’t mean when they’re hanging around me, I know guys are always different around women because deep down, women are still potentials to them. But I’m talking about when I’m the only chick in the group and alcohol has been massively consumed and I might as well not even be in the room. I’ve heard guys get raunchy and nasty as all hell about sex and women, but never really about how many women they’ve bagged. It’s just implied that they’ve had sex with more than one, five or ten or whatever.

Besides in the average romantic comedy where there’s always the staple asshole who does brag about the types of women he’s bagged, I’ve just never really heard of men who are like. “Yeah man, I fuck secretaries aallll the time.” Now yes, if there’s some champ out there fucking Giseles and Stellas right and left, I can imagine he’d probably be running his mouth off to his buddies. But I can just as easily imagine him not making too huge a deal about it. I’d assume it all comes down to age and maturity levels. I really don’t see how a man over 26 would really run around talking about who and what women he bags 24/7. I mean would his friends really care? And wouldn’t that get on their nerves?

But anyway, like I said, I could totally get it if a guy was baggin’ Halles, Angelina’s and whatnot. But the story I’m going to tell you does not contain any of that. No, this story is about a guy who brags about bagging…bloggers..dun dun duuuun! Is it me or does that just seem..well, random? Wouldn’t most people think who cares? Isn’t that like saying, “Yo duuuude, I’ve been to like all the cheese capitals of the world, man. It was hot.”? Like hey I’m glad you enjoyed that but since it has absolutely no bearing on my life or thoughts for the day, I could care less.

Said guy – full disclosure: I’m discussing Barely Average from before – apparently likes to bag women who blog and brag about it. To whom he brags I have no clue since I’d imagine most folks won’t know who the hell he’s talking about or, especially, if she’s hot since I’ll assume that’s what matters in cases of bragging about sexual conquests.

I’m thinking this guy has blown up blogging to some sort of New Hollywood scene so banging a random female blogger translates to banging the rising female stars in Beverly Hills. But if it’s at all like Hollywood, really, banging other bloggers and bragging about it is more like the waiter/cabdriver/screenwriter who’s banging waitresses/models/actresses to get ahead. And since this guy tends to ask these women to help him with writing projects, I’m going to think I’m pretty correct here.

So, folks, I ask you. If one blogger bangs another blogger and no one’s around, does it make a sound?

May 5, 2006 at 5:14 am 9 comments

Lockdown, USA Premiere or, Shaking Booty For A Good Cause

Last night, I went to the private screening of “Lockdown, USA” about Russell Simmons’ and politicians such as Andrew Cuomo’s and Dr. Ben Chavis’ fight to repeal the Rockefeller Drug Laws. In the end, as we know, there’s been a bittersweet victory with some changes made such as a reduction in the mandatory sentencing. But witnessing the controversial exchanges between the repealers and Pataki’s office and the Senate is definitely an experience. The filmmakers – including the associate producer Roslyn Waldon-Harding, my best friend extraordinaire – do a good job of not only stating the facts behind the issue (with lovely narration by theeee Ruby Dee) but also showing the building of the drama from Simmons’ first getting involved, to meetings with Pataki, to the “agreements” made and the internal conflicts of political pawning.

The core of the doc was The Best Family: Darryl Best, the husband and father of five signed for a package, not knowing that it contained a pound of cocaine. Once he signed, the police roll up and arrest him and, because of the Rockefeller Laws and despite the fact that Best was not the designated recipient of the package or know the contents, was automatically sentenced to 15 years to life. We watch his wife, Wanda and their daughters struggle to fight for clemency for Darryl. The film really does suck you in as you find yourself deeply involved in the tumultuous emotions of the family’s plight.

The film also does a good job of concluding as bittersweetly as the real outcome of the laws’ reforms. Instead of clemency, Darryl Best is at first given a reduced sentence of 9 years instead of 15. But ultimately he is granted clemency – the only prisoner to gain it in 2005. And just as the Rockefeller laws are still, sadly, in existence, hundreds of prisoners are now having their cases re-opened and examined due to the new, albeit small, reforms.

There was an afterparty at PM with chicken skewers and champagne and in the theme of celebrating to twisted justice, I managed to get drunk enough to join the usually hated girls who dance on the platforms at the club……

It was pretty interesting aka humliating to do all this in the midst of Dr. Chavis, the filmmakers as well as the whole Best family (I shared a cig with Darryl and I must say, the ex-con cleans up puuurty nice). Still I have to admit, it was a helluva good time.

Now, I’m normally not much of a party-hopping, clubbing gal. But Ros’, who I’ve known since our junior high years when she was the pretty one and I (still carrying my baby fat) was the “funny” one (fyi: that’s still pretty much the case), is more of the glamour girl. Her work involves having to be out and about and to entertain. She has called me many a time to join her at some fab soiree and I’ve had to decline because I’m already in my robe, eating sorbet and getting pretty excited for a re-run of “Law & Order” so last night was a real treat.

We left PM just when it was getting too crowded with B&T and scuttled our way to Lotus for a quick shake-our-booty moment but it was also way too crowded so then we took a cab to HOME (we could have walked but our feet hurt and we were drunk of course). We met with a party-throwing friend which translates to a table with free drinks.

I’m always down for edu-ma-cation, film, political activism all shaken, not stirred, with a night of drunken debauchery. Fight the Power.

May 4, 2006 at 7:36 pm 1 comment


It doesn’t usually happen that I find myself genuinely smiling over New York’s “Look Book.” So what a pleasant surprise this week when I flip to Senorita Onia Jane Balsebre.

Having come here for “love” and finding that it wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be, she is now pursuing her passion for the theatah and doing it oh so stylishly.

The reason I’m featuring is this – In response to if she dresses up, she says, “I really like boys, so I like to dress like them. It’s sexy, I think, and it’s so much more comfortable—even the underwear…”

Ever since I can remember, I have had this strange fantasy to seduce a man in a public social setting. How’s that strange, you may ask? I don’t want to dress up in La Perla (ok, in reality it’d be a mix of Hanes and Victoria’s Secret sale) with fuck-me heels and oils and all that. I don’t want to come up behind my man wearing nothing but some coat and, again, fuck-me heels. No, I want to come up behind my man in trousers, a crisp French-cuffed shirt, a nice well-designed tie, a smooth, well-fitted jacket, maybe even a cigar in my grinning mouth…actually, definitely a cigar in my smirking mouth.

See, folks, I want to feel like a man in the all-powerful/control sense and stroll up to a man and take him home.* There is just something so sexy about the power of seduction and control. Even if later on, I’d like him to take over, it’s the initial hunt and conquer I want to feel. Women can attract a man, we can even seduce but there is a certain something in seduction that only a man can achieve and I want to feel it just for one night.

When I saw 9 1/2 Weeks (hottest movie ever!), I felt so affirmed yet angry that this fantasy wasn’t all and only mine. Still, for those who’ve seen that scene in the lounge, it was hot, though, right?

Ultimately, there is something violent in seduction. You are breaking someone down. Her plans for that evening, her commitment to her boyfriend or husband, to not sleeping with a stranger. Her notions of sex and society. Her will. Men do it so often, they probably won’t even know what I’m talking about. But women do. When we turn around in our seat, when we accept that drink, when we pause at our door, we know what we’re doing, we’ve been thinking about since making eye contact.

Wouldn’t it be so fucking hot to do all that to a man? To make him second-guess himself, debate, set him into a state of confusion and flattery, of both confidence and insecurity? Wouldn’t it be toe-curling to know you’re responsible for his newfound instability? Especially when you know, trite as it may sound, that you’ll be the one to shatter or fulfill all of his hopes and desires…..

…so, any takers?

*And yes, I know the inherent conflict is that since he’d have to be straight, what man would go along with this – but my response is that it would still be obvious I’m a woman, the shirt would be tight, unbuttoned midway, etc.

May 2, 2006 at 12:34 am 1 comment

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