Monday, February 28, 2011

Oscar Rundown: The Package




We all know the Oscars 2011 were a snoozefest- though 'future academy award winning peeps' AKA mere actors, are all like: it's the OSCARS!!!! Meaning, that it's the.best.thing.ever and can do no wrong...and if you're British, then yes, it was AMAZING.
If you're like me, a cool suave American woman who's in it for her loins, then you were only kept awake by the promise of something to eat and a chance to hate- meaning you were at an Oscar Party eating and talking shit.

So, I will not bore you with the same shit everyone's been saying about the Oscars: James Franco and Anne Hathaway could've been replaced by Oprah's titties in that dress for 2 hours and I would've been fine, the Bob Hope 'death hologram' they dug Billy Crystal out of his condo in Florida for was creepy, there were hardly any Black people thanks to Monique and Gaboray Sidibe's (sp) big asses last year-just too much Black for the masses, if Gwyneth Paltrow is onstage singing ONE MORE FUCKING TIME imma piss all over some macro-biotic greens and throw them at people, really thought I was going to witness Kirk Douglass die onstage and then have night mares FOR LIFE, etc.
I really lost all interest in the show....in the hating (somewhat), after seeing James Franco in that (tedious, predictable) opening in that Black Swan number...wearing the lycra one piece??!!!
The cock is a helluva drug- I mean thing. Pre seeing that, I was all: fuck James Franco, no really, I would fuck him but I wanna punch him in the face.
THEN I saw him in that tight onsie and was like: my word! *swoon*
I shall no longer hate on him...even if he smoked a ton of weed before the show and tried n' failed at hipster humor. Leave the hipster humor in that dive bar in Bed-Stuy, when you're at the Oscars you play the FUCKIN' game! You act like you wanna be there and you just walk around with lycra one piece so that we can all see the borders and outlines of your cock.
Totally forgot about Jake Gyllenfuck...but I did want Justin Timberlake to give me a 'pearl necklace'. Also, Javier Bardem can hire me as a babysitter-just wanna watch the man shower, am not trying to break up a happy home!

Anyways, the Oscars 2011 were balls-literally, James Franco's.
James, I hear you're back in NYC...holla.:)

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Conversations with Ice: Dear Ice T...It Begins

** Conversations with Ice started when I needed to work through things. I have always enjoyed Ice T and think that he should be my life coach/mentor/friend so I started having these 'conversations' with him and he helps me with his blunt wisdom. The thing is, I wanna share Ice's wisdom with everyone! I think he can help people- though you'll never be as cool with him as I am (not)... life's hard questions will be answered and Ice can carry on the tradition of being the great humanitarian he is. So please, use the comment box and let Ice T help solve your problems!!! He's gonna give it to ya straight...like an erect penis banging against your eardrum**

Since this is the initial Dear Ice T I shall start off with one of (my many) dilemma's. Let's see how it goes...




Honey T asks: Dear Ice T, why are people shitty? Okay, you've answered that already for me before- but I mean, why do they do shitty things and pretend like shit is cool? Is it ill-intentioned fuckery or just a poor sense of judgment?

Ice T responds: Hey T- *ahem* Honey T. Listen, it all depends. If the person is a so called friend and they're doing shitty things that's one thing, but if it's some random person that's a whole other.
The only common thing is...the shitty thing. It still stinks and it's still shit. I say, you know where you stand with these people and I now if someone handed me shit I wouldn't be giddy about it...and if they try to pretend that shit is just a turd shaped piece of chocolate...would you be giddy about getting a turd shaped piece of chocolate? I wouldn't.
Be smart and cut your losses.

Friday, February 25, 2011

The Place Where I Work: I Am Easy (Like A Sunday Morning)

Oh where to begin with work this week....
First, we know GW aka Greek Wedding is gone-we welcomed Johnny Blue Eyes. No his name is not Johnny, but dudes eyes are blue and he is Italian...and a name like Johnny Blue Eyes seems like something an Italian city boy would have. JBE is the perfect yin to Ruddy Kors yang. He is chill- like weed every day chill- and finds Ruddy Kors's insanity pretty funny.
Speaking of Ruddy Kors, he is off my (very long) 'shit list' simply because he fed me. We were all feeling snacky at work and he bought us all dumpings. I've said it before- you feed me and I like you. Am like a pet that way.
Anyways, Johnny Blue Eyes thinks I am hilarious so he is cool with me too- feed the ego and I like you.
The Band of Temps are doing well- staying strong and keeping each other sane. Also, keeping the love going between the hot ex football player and myself. Like most dudes worth fucking for like one night or a few years with no expectations of a conversation that isn't about: the weather, liking music (saying only that and nothing more), how hot you/they are, etc.- what I'm saying is that the ex football dude is mostly brawn and not a lot of brains...BUT he is hangin' at the Winter Music Conference in Miami next weekend and is getting Ruddy Kors into some parties (because he'll happen to be in Miami next weekend).
Damn, I wish I were sluttier-I'd be at parties in Miami...chillin'. Then he'd get to talking or something and it would be OVER. *le sigh*

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

My Thing With Jon B.




The 90's were pretty awesome. The music, the clothes...the perfect mix of soft n' hard with original dance moves to boot. TV was AMAZING- I mean 'Martin' and 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'-HELLO!
This was also the time when I entered the world of the soulful White boy.
See, I didn't grow up during the times of Tom Jones, Michael McDonald or KC and the Sunshine Band- AKA the OG soulful White boys. I had Jon B.
Nose flared, ears ablaze....I was taken in with the lure and appeal of the soulful White man.
Though there were a few fleeting moments where I thought Mr. B was Latino, I later realized he wasn't. He was just a talented soulful White boy.
I bought his first CD...then his second....then his third. Soon I realized I was either dating or obsessed with dudes who looked Jon B..
A problem...maybe? To this day if there is a White looking dude with a goatee and a close haircut-I am giving him a second glance. Maybe even a smile and a titty shimmy.
Why has my Jon B. complex lasted so long?? When will it stop?? Is it the smooth R&B stylings? The sexually suggestive/romantical lyrics in his steamy falsetto?

I just don't know. Don't think this blog produced any breakthroughs, but it did shed some light on one of my MANY issues.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

The Place Where I Work: We've Only Just Begun....

And then there were three...
The Band of Temps is now down to three! GW- which stands for GreekWedding because she was Greek and is getting married later this year. GW was MISERABLE. Miserable, but needing to work. She would tell us how she would cry every morning that she had to come to the office- and I would say: um, you're a temp. call the agency and tell them you want out!
She didn't though.
I get it. She had to work directly with Ruddy Kors-who preys on the weak. You have to have a certain kind of demeanor to deal with him. GW didn't have that demeanor. So the tension was....tense. To the point where I almost couldn't take it...GW pulled us all into it and in the end we were all like: just find another gig. life is short!
Then on Thursday I guess The Doc and Ruddy Kors had enough and asked her not to come back.
Woah.
I felt horrible, but noticed how different the office felt on Friday. Like the work is intense and Ruddy Kors is still cray cray, but somehow it all works.
Remember what I said about fit, it doesn't have to be perfect but there needs to be a good fit. A good feeling and vibe. One person can change that. GW was a nice chick BUT she was MISERABLE and misery truly does want company!
I tried to help and give her advice....but there's only so much one can do.

I have my own job email account. This could get real. I have until March or April to decide if I can stick it out till the book deal comes through.

In other news, it was FRIDAY yesterday. A beautiful preview of Spring-like Friday! The office vibe was better and I was going to be hanging with my friend Ru and crew for some after work tostones and dranks. It was an early (for me) night of great laughs, stripper poles, JuanB- this latin dude who looked like R&B sensation Jon B who I will ALWAYS have mad love for, dranks and just good vibes. Love good people...and good food.

Monday, I will be back at work- no holiday for me. The hot ex football player will be back in and I will just stare- NO! Actually I must do like my boy Ru says- open my heart, while I'm young n' tight! Need to get out there...back in the game. YEAH!!!!!

...okay. Now to do laundry and prepare for an evening of deep conditioning, watching 'Nikita' on HULU, making either tacos or veggie samosas and then sleeping like a freshly washed baby's ass.
Gimme time. I'll warn ya when it's time to lock up your sons, bro's, fathers, male friends you fuck but aren't dating seriously....

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

The Place Where I Work: I Am Not Piss Poor Morally

Today was an extremely pleasant day at work because Ruddy Kors was out!!!! Ruddy Kors is that ONE person in a small, easygoing office who makes things FUCKING CHAOTIC for no reason. Well...he does it because he has no idea what he is doing, but talks a good game. Me and the Band of Temps- there are four temps-to- perms in the office. All cool, all part of the 'new regime' and all ready to lock Ruddy Kors in a tanning bed (because he obviously tans). The Band of Temps and I were able to get our work done, help each other out with stuff and bond.
We'll see how long we all last...or if there will be a slaying.
Besides having a great working environment for the day- including chatting with The Doc who seems cool and nice enough-I had a fleeting love affair. Well brief...maybe non-existent...affair.
There he was. Tall, broad, shaved head and scruffed. We would've had some pretty yella kids. He's an ex football player which didn't excite me, his eye fucking me did. The Band of Temps helped me with my 'research' on him until someone asked if he was married...and of course he is!
*sigh*
So that was that. I was this close to letting someone claim my fine ass and break in my womb like a ...new...mattress...
In any case, he is coming next week and I shall non-creepily leer at him until another hottie rolls into the office and distracts me.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

1. When I Am Asked....

...about my outfit choice- meaning it may look shitty or weird, but to me it's just Fashion Week and though I no longer work in the fashion industry and my years as the worlds most unrecognized supermodel have long passed- I still feel that when them tents (are there still tents)go up it's time for me to get my quirky swerve on.

...if I am seeing the Justin Beaver (Bieber) film which was shot in 3D- I said unless that kid is getting dp'd in 3D I have NO INTEREST.

...what really happened with me and Jake Gyllenfuck. Why didn't our love come to be? Thanks to the movie The Adjustment Bureau (starring Matt Damon) all is explained. It wasn't in the cards for us, he had a choice between stardom n' teenagers or the love that can sustain a starving man in a dessert for months....and he chose poorly.;P

Saturday, February 12, 2011

VDay Poetry

**We all know whether single or coupled up, I am not into Valentines Day. I'm in to love- because to truly hate you MUST know love- but not into cheesy shit like dudes in blouses n' skinny jeans, cards and stuffed teddy bears. In any case, I am a writer and I must give the people what they want...though NO ONE has actually asked me to write some VDay poetry, but I am a giver.**

don't give me cheap chocolates n flowers
or any shit you can give to any chick
don't take me to a restaurant- actually do that
because a lady likes to eat n' chat
make me a mix cd/tape filled with songs that allude to friendly rape
prince's 'if i was your girlfriend' better be included
if you want to do it
because 'baby can i dress ya...' is one of the sexiest phrases
let's put some milkshakes in vases
if you recite any poetry, there will be no where to go with me
not to a window, not to a wall
i won't be bouncing off your balls
because fake flowery words don't excite me
speak from the heart- or how my ass is like a work of art
and delight me

The Place Where I Work: Nipple Pimple

Having sensitive and sometimes lovely skin is a gift and a curse. Because sleeping is my hobby, my lack of it has caused a pimple to rise on one of the many choicest spots on my face: my left cheekbone.
I know better then to pop it or touch it-but I can stare at it for a long while in the mirror and angrily squint.

Work. Oh man, hours...long hours of intensity and some funny times. Ruddy Kors is still making smoothies and causing drama where there needn't be. He is also ON THE PROWL. I thought I walked around with my clit on a sleeve- like heart on a sleeve BUT BETTER!- but Ruddy Kors has me beat. Let any decent looking guy come into the office and he is like a schoolgirl. Giggling. Flrting. Yet, he is a tad leacherous. The office is expanding so we had this dude I'll call That Guy coming in to take measurements. That Guy is tall, good looking, body like WHAT and dumb as shit. Perfect recipe for being...that guy. He is something nice to look at...which I was happily doing till I saw Ruddy Kors looking too...leering, nasty. I felt dirty.

There's another character in the office, a nurse I'll call Lisa Lamponelli...because she reminds of comedian Lisa Lamponelli...just not as crude or funny. We'll see about her....
That was meant to sound ominous because I see her ability to come into my lane causing me to introduce her to oncoming traffic.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The Place Where I Work: Get In Where You Fit In

Ever feel like you don't belong somewhere because you have NO IDEA what you are doing ...yet for some odd reason it all clicks?
That is what's happening with me and this new place. Maybe it's because most of the peeps are new and we are wading through the shit together- but shit feels good.
It could be the excitement of not knowing if you'll be there the following week either....hmmm
Anyways, am getting into my groove. Already have a Starbucks- where I am ALREADY getting upgrades AND have a boo. His name is Juan and he loves himself some me. The only unfortunate thing are the tourists that linger in my Starbucks. They linger with their croissants and lingering. Air thick with shit-tons of cologne and perfumes and they stand there. In the middle of everywhere. Staring at the menu or just chatting about their big day in New York City. Then you have me and a few other working peoples just trying to get their coffee and the back of their hands rubbed by Juan's thumb.
...that could just be me though.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

The Time I Went To See Das Racist AKA Remembering When I Was Cool



There was a time when I was FUCKIN' AWESOME. I know, I know- I am pretty swell now, but back in the day (like 4 or 5 years ago) I was FUCKIN' AWESOME.
Would go see amazing shows because I didn't hate crowds of people so much and had more patience. I also would drink to numb the hate rising inside of me. Also didn't care about rolling into work hungover and shitty looking- because I NEVER LOOKED shitty. I was younger and resilient.
Now, it's a whole other bag of dicks.
If I don't get the proper amount of sleep AND I drink- I awake bloated, swollen and looking like I don't know what moisturizer or concealer is.

When Margo asked if I wanted to attend a Das Racist show with her- I was like cool. Surprising, but I liked these dudes. Plus, back when I was FUCKIN' AWESOME- Margo was right there with me.
Together we had dinner and reminisced about being cool..then walked to the Highline Ballroom to catch the show. We limited ourselves to 2 drinks (because of the whole swollen thing) and ventured into the crowd. Now Margo predicted that the crowd would be mostly White...and probably hipster. I agreed. She was proven right- except the White peeps we deemed cool by bringing Black people with them!
Margo was one of those cool people (I'm Black remember)-then this White guy rolled in with this Black chick...who's hair was alll natural (meaning no perm). Now I have a slight perm because my hair is so thick...and I want to be able to do it proper...because if I don't look good, then shit ain't right.
..sadly, Margo lost the 'be cool and bring a Black person' game.
There were a few Indians (because 2 of the dudes in the group are Indian) sprinkled in the crowd...but a whole lot of nerds, hipsters and assholes in the crowd made the experience kinda...ugh. It also made Mags (Margo) and I thankful we've outgrown the whole being cool thing- and aren't like some peeps our age still caught up in the bullshit. Now, I am not saying we can't have fun...it's a different kind...or have 'once in a while' type of thing. Like going to shows or drinking Patron all night and waking up with a bloodied knife in your hand.

Jasmine Solano was one of the opening acts AND DJi'ing. She was moving the crowd, Mags and I were feeling her...then Mags poetically stated: I didn't pay 10 bucks to see some Jasmine Solano.
I agreed. She was on for too too long!
There was another opening act, a dude named Danny Brown. He had a perm, an ill (BAD) haircut, silk shirt and white jeans on. Basically the makings of a dude I would hate- though I LOVE Andre 3000 (though he has a perm and wears silver lame`, he is mad talented and HOT)I blamed him for this. This Danny Brown, at first, was funny and his beats were sick. THEN like Ms. Solano, it got old and we grew bored. There's only soooo many times you can hear about a bitch sucking you off and you don't care (that would be a rap from Mr. Brown).
Usually when I'm at a show and left un-entertained by who's on stage, I try to find a hot aka potential mindfuck to focus on. There were NONE in this crowd. This made me yearn for my bed and a DVD.

Finally after another round of female DJ's-along with Ms. Solano, there was this other DJ...I don't recall her name, but she had on the most ill-fitting jeans. Will call her DJ IllJeans. I guess we were supposed to be amazed by her 'skills'. Wow, look at her go. She turned on her computer...and went down her iTune music list...oh wait!-she just threw her arms in the air!!! Wow.
See this is why I HATE that cerrato/serrano/I don't give a fuck what the name is because it makes me angry. Like I get it. Who wants to carry around a shit ton of records????
...but NOW EVERYONE is a DJ. Now even more mediocre people think they are good at something, something that anyone with 2 fingers and a computer can do. Fuck that! It's boring and makes me BOIL OVER WITH ANGER!!!!!!!!! Where was I??
Okay, so Das Racist comes out looking like some dudes. Like dudes I see on the Q train) getting off at Kings Highway (Brooklyn) going to each others house to play Grand Theft Auto and drink YooHoo's.
In other words, they were awesome. They opened with "Who's That Brown?"- (one of my faves) and really brought the energy levels up. The ultimate nerd in me was wayyyy too excited about the Aeon Flux (amazing cartoon) playing in the background. It was great to was some Flux and hear them.
Unfortunately, because I am older, wiser, more responsible, and VAIN...I could only stay for a couple of songs. From what I saw though...would've TOTALLY enjoyed the whole thing, probably punched someone the fuck out and would've bought a t-shirt.

I am not that cool anymore though...so I left on a high note and got some zzz's.

The Place Where I Work: Yeah, so....

...what once was a week may now be a job. Out of the blue I am working at a fancy doc's office...doing things I have never done before, rolling with uppity beatches in an uppity hood...but more importantly- I am making money!
Perhaps they sense my inner rich bitch and that is why they were like: you're in! Yes, the past week was like hell week...or an episode of a reality show competition. It started with me and then 3 other temps. The office was going through an overhaul...they wanted fresh faces and peeps who were computer savvy. They also wanted a look. I know this because I was there from the beginning and heard the whole process. Age was a factor too...
Anyways, it started with 4 and now there are just 2! Me and this other girl. The office manager/fitness expert is like a ruddy colored Michael Kors (Kors is more orange). He is also in better shape...but like Michael Kors all the same. We'll call him Ruddy Kors. Ruddy Kors and The Doc were the major decision makers. I really didn't think I would last-mostly because I didn't want to...but such is my life. I don't want it and it wants me. Though this also proves that though I am the most efficient asshole, I am personable, young looking aka FRESH FACED biches, and well put together. Professional, even. Hot always!
Ruddy Kors likes making every shakes-protein, fruit, veggie...
Yeah that's another thing. Healthy environment. Like really...which works with where I am heading-to a healthier, sexier me...BUT I have my limits and I am also slightly crazed. This means that all this healthy makes me wanna eat more BAD stuff. It's a vicious cycle.

Needless to say the real winners are the 3 of you that read my blog because I feel the stories will be ENDLESS here. END.LESS.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

A Dash of Work And A Lot About Being An Asshole

So it was day 2 at the doctors office- a specialty doc who caters to a moneyed clientele. Clientele like Yoko Ono who deals with NO ONE. That is the kinda asshole- well moneyed asshole- I want to be. The one where I lose the ability to speak to anyone (common folk), only through my assistant- a gay man named either Romeo or Usher (OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO hahahah give that dude something to do). Will also lose the ability to walk- will travel via Maybach or helicopter or be carried by a Samoan named Hi-Top...and will have a midget woman named Beatrice feed me because being rich will make my arm muscles limp (from counting all that cheddah) and therefore unable to to lift my fork.
Needless to say, I'll be happy when this week is over and I no longer have to wonder what kind of emotion people are expressing because they are botoxed and facially surgeried soooooo effin' tight! Only eyes blink and lips move....
What gets me through besides youth n' great genes are my asshole epiphanies.
We all know I don't strive to be an ass but I am damn good at it when need be. So when a dude- from the dating site I am a part of- emails me...saying I obviously like being the center of attention. He can tell this because of the pics of me I posted...to my...profile. Hmmm. I wrote him back mentioning that that is the point. Perhaps he was being humorous or meant something else by it...I'll find out whenever I decide to read his response.
Either way imma be an asshole about it. Why? BECAUSE I CAN!
....yeah, I am also an AWESOME dater.
OH, there is hope of me not living alone with my servants and cats. One of the chicks at the doctors office is IN LOVE WITH ME. Okay, actually....I will end up alone warmed by my chinchilla throw and whatever lover I plan on taking in. Preferably male and named Idris.