A Head Start on Foolishness

I just wanted to get a head start on the foolishness that I plan to participate in during the coming year. Happy 2012, yawl!

I SHOULDA HAD AN ABORTION: Tha Year in Review

2009 took it's sweet time gettin' on up outta here, didn't it? Well, I'm glad that bitch is gone, cause we 'bout to get it in in 2010! *giggles*

And apparently, that's exactly what I been doin', cause here we are, a week into tha year, and I'm just now doin' a blog entry. Shameful, really, but whatever. I got a life, people! And furthermore, you gotta understand that I gotta take time out between entries to replenish my reservoir of foolishness. That's how you get tha very best fuckery from me... but I digress...



Despite some tragedies and scandals, I guess tha past year wasn't really bad at all, especially on a personal tip. I kept myself a job, wrote some poems n' thangs, continued to Boom on these hoes (while simultaneously stunting. That shit ain't easy!), and generally lived my life like it was golden. Highlights of tha year included my friend Tamara's wedding, celebrating Naomi's 10th Birthday at tha Mos Def and Erykah Badu show on Labor Day Weekend, and in October, marking tha one year anniversary of my marriage to my apartment.

So, this is like tha best story about my husband -- I mean, my apartment... It was Halloween of 2008. I had been in my place for all of 31 days and my brother, Chas was here. I have a front and a back door and of course, my back door is in my kitchen (well, not really "of course"... I mean, I guess it could be somewhere else... but traditionally, that's where back doors are.) My desk and computer and whole work station area is also in my kitchen, so inevitably, that's where I spend most of my time. We had been having a bit of a heat wave (or is that really just normal for L.A in October? *confused face*), so all of tha windows and my back door was open and Chas and I were sitting in tha kitchen talking and then, all of a sudden, we hear this woman GOING OFF.

She was sobbing and yelling and just actin' an all around fool. I imagine she prolly rolled around on tha floor at some point, that's how much she was cuttin' up. Well, apparently, she was "arguing" with her man (I put that in quotation marks, cause really it takes two people to argue and we never heard him say anything). She was like, "YOU DON'T LOVE MEEEEEEEEE!!!! YOU NEVER LOVED ME!!!" and of course, Chas and I, bein' tha maniacs that we are, turned down tha music and went over to tha window and back door so we could really hear all tha juicy mess. So, she's goin' on and on and on, just actin a muthafuckin' fool, and then she was like, "I SHOULDA HAD AN ABORTIOOOOOOOON! I SHOULDA HAD AN ABORTIOOOOOON! [insert inaudible sobs here]"

Chas and I looked at each other like "OH SHIT!"

Bwahahahahahahaahahahahahaha!

Forreal, lady? Is that whut you shoulda done? Wow.

I certainly hope tha child she "should've aborted" was a little baby and didn't know what was goin' on and not like 17 in tha other room on tha PS3, like "Whut tha fuck???"

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

So, now that's our inside joke. When some shit don't go tha way we want it to or we're just generally unhappy, we throw our heads back like tha characters in Charlie Brown, fake sob, and shout, "I SHOULDA HAD AN ABORTION!" It's fun for tha whole family.



That story had absolutely nothing to do with tha New Year or anything else for that matter... I just felt like sharing.

When Black Women Cut All Their Hair Off...

About a week after I first cut all my hair off (for tha billionth time in my life) I had an interesting little exchange with tha mail man at my job. He's a really cool, older black man named Jimmy who has a bit of a southern accent, regularly talks about his wife, and chats with us about sports. He's a father type, who probably goes to church on Sundays and knos a little somethin about cars. No nonsense, real decent kinda guy. He came into my office as part of his daily routine, placed our mail on a table, sat our packages beside tha mail, and as he was collecting our out going parcels looked at me and asked, "Are you sick?"

Of course, I was confused.

Then he went on to say something to tha effect of, "Well, I saw all your hair was gone and didn't kno if you were sick..."

Which led me to a thought...

In tha Black Woman's quest to find beauty in herself, she's been led down a path that dictates that she must grow and keep as much hair on her head as she possibly can at all times. I kno this, partially because I am a Black woman and also, because at one point I was a hairstylist. Not only would a good number of black women fall out and die at tha mere thought of cutting off their hair, but most won't consider tha possibility that they might be able to function in life should their hair decide to wave, curl, or (GASP!) nap up. For tha average Black woman in America, there is simply no fate worse than bald or nappy headed-ness.

Which leads me to a fundamental truth about Black Women...

If she has cut all her hair off, she is probably (A) DYING OF CANCER, or (B) HAS COMPLETELY LOST HER MIND.

Well, I ain't dying of Cancer, praise White Jesus. So, tha latter must be true. I mean, why else would anyone do this...



And intentionally go from this...




To this...




Observe tha slightly crazy look that was already present in my eyes before I went off tha deep end and took some clippers to my scalp. Notice tha crazed grin in tha "after" photo. Clearly, something is wrong. And whut's worse is that apparently, tha insanity is contagious. My best sista-friend from high school went from this...



To this...



Menacing! And whut exactly is it that she's got hiding behind that door back there? Answer: You wouldn't wanna kno!

And this po sista...



Well, she been a stark raving mad lunatic, but doesn't tha lack of hair make it more apparent?



I certainly think so.

You may be asking, "So, Nikki... whut exactly is your point?" and to that, my answer is, "I really don't kno... lemmme think..."

[insert elevator music here]

Okay, yes. My point is whut reactions to Solange's recent chop confirmed. As a Black Woman, you can't do any of tha following things:

*Love yourself
*Think you're beautiful
*Refuse to hav said beauty defined by society
*Not want to be boxed in
*Feel tha wind and/or sun on your scalp
*Go swimming and put your head UNDER tha water
*Be satisfied with tha way God made you
*Not be terrified by naps
*Not think that your hair is your beauty
*Not want to put harmful chemicals in your hair
*Want to look Afrikan
*Not be concerned with whut a man might think
*Look in tha mirror and not think you're ugly
*Not compare yourself to others
*Want to look and feel like yourself
*Not sit in a salon for 6 hours every two weeks
*Not strive to be perceived as "beautiful" by Eurocentric standards
*Be satisfied
*Feel like you're enough, as you are

And you most certainly, must not, under any circumstances allow your hair to be nappy. God forbid you cut it off.

If you do, you're sick. You're crazy. Most of all, you're ugly.



Remember it. Own it. Embody it. Live it. Teach it to your daughters and preach it to your sons. It's tha only way to quell tha hideous scourge of crazy bald headed black women that hav come to invade your consciousness. They may not hav Cancer, but they are a type of insidious, parasitic disease, feasting upon all that is good, acceptable, and decent. Shifting your paradigm, fuckin' with your perception of beauty, broadening your horizons, trapping you in their webs of nappiness, blinding you with tha glare of tha sun reflecting off their shiney scalps. They'll make you crazy, too, if you're not careful... So be careful.

Mothers, don't let your daughters grow up to own clippers. All that great hair that you so lovingly permed and pressed will be gone in an instant. And then, whut will become of her? She might end up somewhere... thinkin. She might hav tha nerve to hav a little bit of pride (ugh!). PRIDE DON'T PAY THA BILLS!

[laughter. Lots of it]

Forreal, tho... all jokes aside... this is not a judgement on Black women who chose to grow their hair long or straighten it (tho, I do feel some kinda major way about that, but I won't talk about it, cause I don't want to hurt nobody's feelings... today). I just want to encourage all women to be brave, and bold, make tha best decisions that you can for yourself and love you, no matter whut people like, don't like, or may hav to say. God made you, and that is enough to make you beautiful.

And tha church says, "BOOM."

Beyonce Practices Ancient Creole Fertility Ritual On Stage

We've all come to expect certain things from one Mrs. Beyonce Giselle Knowles Carter. One: She gon hav some weave in her hair. Two: She might either (a) decend out of tha rafters on invisible wire and hover above tha stage like Tinkerbell at tha nightly Disneyland fireworks show, or (b) ascend up out of tha stage, wind blowing through tha aforementioned weave, stilettos, properly on feet, booming on all these hoes. Three: She's gonna hav more riffs for that ass than an extended guitar solo. Four: Likely she will be dressed like a super hero. None of these are necessarily bad things. That's just how that sista roll.



Well, on Sunday night at tha 9th Annual BET awards, she left tha crime fighting to Keyshia Cole and Monica. Beyonce ain't got nothin' to prove. She got her reformed drug dealer Millionaire-Boo, she done made it, and she ain't yo Karyn White -- I mean superwoman!

*rolls eyes*

Whut you thought this was? A show? You thought Beyonce was here to entertain you with something exciting, energetic, and visually tantalizing? Well she showed you whut was whut, didn't she?

Instead of layin down on a couple yards of tha finest spandex infused fabric that tha Houston swap meet had to offer, and allowing Mama Tina to swaddle her good and tight till she looked like human fruit roll up, Beyonce went for a more elegant look...



A rhinestone encrusted bathing suit made of Cool Whip accented with a skirt constructed of a discarded parasol, tha elderly neighbor lady's sheer curtains and fur trim from tha clearance section at tha local Michael's Arts and Crafts store. Isn't she a vision of beauty?

Nod your head in agreement.

Mmmmhmmm, we all knew Beyonce was lovely, pure as tha driven snow, and as close to divinity as a black woman can get, but whut you didn't kno was that whut you actually witnessed was not a normal Beyonce performance, but an ancient Creole Fertility Ritual that has been passed down from one generation of Dereon women to tha next. Right now, there is a big head, big lipped, lightskinned baby cookin' in Bey-bey's sacred womb. I'm tryin' to tell you. Shawn Corey Matthew Dereon Celestino Knowles Carter, coming soon to an Essence cover near you.

Tha Thing I Have in Common with Asian Men

Monday morning, I was watching The Today Show, which is basically whut I do every morning during tha week, cause Matt Lauer is tha muthafuckin man. It just so happened that on this particular Monday morning, the families of two American Journalists that are currently being held in North Korea were on tha show being interviewed. Apparently Laura Ling and Euna Lee were arrested in North Korea on March 17th and are charged with crossing the North Korean border from China along with other unspecified "hostile acts." They go to trial tomorrow and of course, just like their families and so many others that are familiar with this incident, I am hoping that these women will soon be released and allowed to come back home.



As a side point, Laura Ling is sister to Lisa Ling, who also is a reporter, whom I enjoy very much. You may remember she had a brief stint on The View or perhaps you're familiar with her appearances on Oprah. None of this is relevant to whut tha actual point of why I'm writing this blog, but...whutever.

Okay, on to my observation.

Here are tha families of tha imprisoned women...



Now... notice tha two white men on tha back row? Yes? You may (or may not, depending on how you've been socialized) be surprised to find out that those are the women's husbands. Surprise, surprise! Two Asian women are married to White men!

And with that observation I thought, "Wow, black women aren't tha only ones who are hated by tha opposite sex of their racial/ethnic group and often deserted for tha prospect of white booty!" ...and at once, I felt irrevocably bonded to Asian men all over tha World.

One Last Time

You kno how it is when a good thing has run it's course... Let's use a relationship for an example. Even if it's time to move on and you about to giv that former special someone their walking papers, it doesn't mean that tha good times you had weren't good. And sometimes, you just want one last kiss before you say, "Goodbye."

Well, last week's Pretty Ricky debacle was a good time, indeed. I don't think I've laughed that hard this entire year. And tha giggles didn't stop once tha video did! My friends and I (shout outs to Chas and Ebony Janice) engaged in hours of hilarious conversation with laughs that no doubt added a couple years to our lives and definitely got our abs right and tight for tha summer. I want to personally thank "Sexy Spec" for that none sense. Sadly, it's a new week and therefore time to move on to new foolishness, but I can't resist, so here's one for tha road. I hope it's as good for you as it was for me.

Don't Judge Me!

I know, I know, I KNOW! I fell off...again. I'm sorry! I been busy! I'll reserve all tha details about whut happened with my poem a day and whut tha hell I been doin', while I was missing in action for basically all of tha month of May for another blog post. None of that is important now. There are two WAY more pressing issues.

#1



Erykah Badu at tha 2009 UCLA Jazz Festival in shiny black pants...



I was there. Yes, she did wear a hoodie with a hat on top. Yes, there was a black, satin sleeping cap under tha hoodie. Yes, she poured out a little liquor for tha homies that ain't with us. Yes, she did whut tha fuck she wanted, too.

Here's thing #2

...literally...it's a thing.



I DEFY YOU to look at this video for any length of time and tell me that this isn't at least one of tha top 5 gayest things you've ever seen with your own eyes. Tha only way this could become slightly more homo is if his clone came out and started dancing with him. And then if they had sex. This, folks, is tha reason why I blog.

Oh, and before I go...lemme go on ahead and give him tha Nigga Please Award. I'm pretty sure he deserves it.

Well, FINALLY

I first heard this song like 2 summers ago, and actually, lightweight, it became part of my soundtrack for tha second half of '07. How nice of them to finally, after all this daggone time make a video and release this as a single. It's pretty giggle-worthy. Partake.

In Case You Missed It: The Rock Obama

Unlike most of tha world, I actually still watch Saturday Night Live. There's a special place in my heart reserved for sketch comedy, and though I've fallen off as a viewer over tha last couple of years, I still make an earnest effort to either watch or Tivo SNL. This Saturday night, I was glad I did, cause this was some ole funny mess. I got my giggle on.

Tehehe

This gave me my first laugh of tha day. I hope it blesses you...especially tha part about Talib Kweli robbin' folks by havin' them buy his albums. Tehehehe...

Hump Day

Happy hump day...