Sunday, July 31, 2011


The neighborhood I live in started out Italian and Jewish, and is now mostly Russian/Ukranian...even Siberian.
Anywho, any time I walk down the street and a little kid/baby/toddler looks at me, points and says something in their native language I think it's the N word!
Even if the kid and his mom smiles, or the kid giggles and seems like they wanna play with me for some reason. I am angrily squinting and shaking my head and calling it (the kid) a little racist.

Add this to the issues list.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Amy. Amy. Amy.

Like Janet Jackson and Cyndi Lauper (and many others) spoke to the girl in me, Amy Winehouse spoke to the woman in me. I think it was the time in my life, or the tone of her voice or just her brand of crazy-but I just loved her unconditionally and she holds a special place in my heart. Though cold and dark like an underground cave, my heart is big and intense.

It had to be around 2004 or 2005 when I was in the middle of a conversation at the bar at 60 Thompson (Soho, New York) when my friend Mo who was DJing at the time, put on "Fuck Me Pumps". I literally stopped mid-sentence after hearing the first verse and walked over to him and was like WHO IS THIS??
He handed me her LP telling me how huge she was in England and how the States wasn't ready for her (true, until her second album).
It was love at first listen.
That voice...and the lyrics-that SHE wrote. The youth with the old soul. I immediately bought her CD (this was before mp3's, bitches) and played it over and over. That chick spoke to my soul and made me believe in music again. Sure she had a weed/drinking problem, but you can't write and sing like that without going through some shit-so she had her demons.

At the time I was in my mid 20's and was discovering who I was-which in hand means coming to terms with who I wasn't.
I wasn't a big partier, or drinker, or slut, or into superficial bullshit, or air kisses, or chatting with people just so I could say I knew them, etc.
I had to be cool with that...and as I sat alone in my apartment sippin' ice tea's and cooking dinner...and listening to Amy, I was okay with that.

My friend Margo text me today and said: you introduced me to Amy- this shows how annoying I can be when I am into something or someone. I want my peeps to understand how GREAT they are. Sharing is caring.
Though I also felt good about Amy not being too popular because it could ruin her. Once the BUSINESS sees $$$ all that talent and creativity become ass in leotards and bullshit lyrics. Also producers sitting around being greasy and killing the moment.
It was selfish on my part, but I never claimed not to be a selfish bitch.

Amy of course got big because that kind of talent shouldn't be denied and THANKFULLY a producer I respected, Mark Ronson, worked with her on her second album. So she was entering the mainstream waters but still keeping with who she was. The Back to Black album was an instant/another classic.
Who she was had a lot of issues and unfortunately in the game (even in life) you're not always surrounded by people who have your best interest and truly care about YOU.

With success-though well deserved- it put Amy's issues under a microscope. With no good people around her and the camera lenses, we were front and center for her downfall. I rooted for her and just hoped she would find it within herself to come out of the 'black'. She didn't.

Brooklyn Kat texts me this afternoon: Amy Winehouse is dead!
My heart dropped, I just knew it was true know...I was hoping for her, but this wasn't a surprise-I was...I am sad. Like defeated.
Then I put on a few of her songs and had a cry?!
Now it could be PMS or Satan's Heat NYC 2011...because thugs don't cry, but I think it's because Amy touched something in me and I enjoyed her crazy, her voice and originality. There will be no other, you stand alone boo (and I mean we all saw that asshole Duffy!).

The pic I used is how I'll always remember her. Beautiful, sassy and with eyes filled with an amazing future.

May you rest in peace Amy Winehouse.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

True Blood Season 4 So Far AKA I Wanna Have A 3 Way With Eric and Alcide

I call this my "Hooker, what the fuck?" face! It has been like this since the start of the season. If you watch the show, you know I am talking about 'fucked up fairy world', the fact that NO ONE gives a fuck about Jason and why Bill is the coldest dead dick around!
Still love this show though. Mostly because you're always 5 minutes away from unexpected penetration, spine removal or this....

Eric Northman. I love him- I mean I am pretty much Pam, but like her I owe him fealty...which I would repay with my cooch! That man fine.
You know me, I'm simple. There are HOT dudes, I will watch till there are no hot dudes- BUT OKAY I love the Charlaine Harris books and this is my favorite one. Eric is under some witches spell and has no memory of what an asshole he is. LOVE! The book is a lil different, but as long as the show follows through with lots of nekked (almost cock shots of) Eric...and some tastefully naughty bang out scenes (even if they are with Sookie)-I'll be pleased.

The only thing is him...

Oh man! I would allow him in my one woman wolf pack! I would like to call my vag 'MLK' and allow vamps and wolves to come me! He causes me to use exclamations all day!!!!!!! besides wanting to do Alcide and Eric, and be more like Lafayette- this season has been interesting. Though I could give a fuck about Jessica and Hoyt...and Sam's family can all be set on fire. Though I hate Bill, I cannot WAIT till Sookie starts boning Eric and Bill has to DEAL with being lame with a lame hair cut.
He is King Bill. King of the LAMESSSSSS!

Andy Belfleur being strung out on the V has been entertaining...but he's gonna need to do something drastic or I will be borrrred with him.

Then there is Tara...

Besides straightening her hair and becoming a lesbian, she just comes around to say 'fuck' a lot. Eyefuck Pam. And...
Well that's about it! Come on. I love Tara and Lafayette together, but have her videotape Eric showering or something.

One would have thought I would be excited about Alcide's ex Debbie Pelt being back this season. I'm not. I long for the Debbie Pelt of last season. The 80's scrunchie wearing V fiend! Her clothing alone entertained me. Now she's miss goody two shoes....but I read the books. SO, I know.

Have to say I am excited about this season, also, the added bonus of the Sunday pot-luck gatherings that happen at Jesse and JK's. B is also involved. We laugh, we eat, we drool, JK defends Bill, Jesse roots for Jason and B curses Sookie. It's a blast!

Carry on True Blood, carry on...

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

My Thing With (or FOR) Ami James.

Remember when I liked dudes I actually knew-or had a chance with...and they didn't like me anyways? So I just crush on celebs because there is really minimal effort.
Well being one for tradition imma go ahead and admit my subtle longing for Ami James...and PLEASE don't ask: who? you mean the douche who looks like Vin Diesel?
Ask me that and it will not only result in a swift kick to the throat, but I would make you sit through ALL of Vin Diesel's movies! Specifically that one where he has the wig-that one will be on loop 5 times!

Anyways it all began when m'girl B turned to me and said: you know who you'd be good with?
With baited breath I waited because I knew B would have a thoughtful choice-she says: Ami James.
I am like: who?
She says: the dude on NY INK!
I reply: OHHH yeah! the guy I see go by on buses and am like damnnnn he fine! this dude I went to college with works on that show...
B then deems it meant to be because she's says Ami is chill and straight forward- and there is NO DOUBT he is a dude, no bitchasedness. B feels it is a perfect match because I am chill and straight forward...and like Ami feel like when we talk it out and it's a done deal, it's a dead issue- and if people wanna still be on it, we take it to the mats! Meaning straight fist-a-cuffs!
Upon hearing about Mr. James from both B and m'girl Marci-I decided to do my own investigating, which included actually watching NY Ink and emailing IRod aka the dude I went to college with that works on the show. Being so straight forward I asked what Ami's situation was just in case I sac'd up and was able to quit being my usual chick in a romantic comedy you root for but fumbles consistently.
IRod tells me that Ami is married with kids.
Fuckin' of course- this would just be the beginning of my obsession. Again, in keeping with tradition, gimme a dude I absolutely have NO chance with and I will lust for him immensely-please don't let me have to woman up or anything. Let me live in the fantasy please.

Anyways, enough with my issues, let's get back to Ami.
Since I am way passed the point of getting tattoo's- I have to enlist my friends to help with the minimal effort stalking I plan on doing. IRod says he'll totally introduce me- but I gets nervous and if you've been reading my blog you should know why.
I sometimes say crazy inappropriate shit.
Some see it as lovable...and some don't.
Plus, besides my love for Ami, I actually enjoy the show. Like Robear is my fave-simply because he wore a Hole hat in one episode. Then there is Chris Torres. That dude is a DICK...but I would totally just bang him. Dunno what it thinks he's the Jess to my Rory Gilmore. No breakfast, hand holding or dream sharing- straight banging.
Now Ami, we would share our dreams while he taught me the Krav Magra (sp). We would then dine on Moroccan food and play skee ball for dessert.
Take that anyway you'd like.

Saturday I happened to be in Soho...which lead me to the Wooster Street Social Club aka the home of NY Ink. I was there with m'girl Margo- who like me, is not into ink on OUR bodies. On everyone else, whatever works...unless they're just ugly ass tatts.
We lounged in front of the WSC, Margo trying to get me to go inside. I was busy getting too excited seeing Robear and Billy (I think) the apprentice. Then Margo and I discussed what tatt's I WOULD get in case I actually walked inside and got a consultation. I decided on the map of Africa on my lower tummy with the Nile being near my vaginal region. Margo liked that idea but suggested that I get the map of Israel!
Yes! I again suggested that it be situated around my vag- because I like to take a joke and go...n' go! In a moment of sheer genius I say: I can always offer Ami a trip back to his motherland!
Margo and I actually high-5'd!
Then I felt my uterus quiver. This was weird because my period just ended and I wasn't around a dude I wanted to mate with...THEN I looked up and standing right by the window...looking out onto Wooster Street...was AMI 'MUTHA FUCKING' JAMES!
I could NOT believe the strength of my uterus. It literally CALLED to him. Like he just appeared. I couldn't even breathe.
Then he looked me dead in my eyes and it was time for me to go.
I thought I was going to start silently crying whilst dry humping the air- NOT a good look. So I called B and left her a message about how my uterus called Ami and then went to TopShop to decompress.

We'll keep in mind he's married, but my uterus knows NOTHING about that. It wants what it wants.
I don't know what's going to happen when I actually meet him. Will I be able to keep my shit together? Will I be so guitly from dry humping him that I get a tatt??
I'll keep you posted.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Conversations In My Head: The Sweater

Most of the time that look on my face isn't gas or the fact that I hate you- I am probably having a conversation in my head. Like this one while I was walking in SOHO this evening (NOT stalking Ami James-NY Ink- who is one of my latest intangible crushes):

I notice a dude walking by me with a full on sweater. It is SUMMER here in New York City.

Voice 1- most likely Samuel L. Jackson (actor): that dude is wearing a sweater. he has to be on heroin.

Voice 2: most likely Jadakiss (rapper): you have on a sweater-

Voice 1: it's a mutha fuckin' cardigan! and NOT a v-neck sweater. that dude is on some smack...

Voice 2: maybe, but do we give a fuck?

Voice 1: nah, fuck that fool. what we eatin'?

Voice 3- most likely Eartha Kitt (actress, singer, extraordinaire, etc.): i'm feelin' rrravenous...maybe something meaty.

Voices 1 and 2: well damn!


Sunday, July 3, 2011

Overheard At The Dunkin' Donuts

My plans to run errands in my hood were stalled when it began pouring again. This just meant sitting in D&D with an iced coffee and a plain donut stick-rather poetic. I planned on just staring out the window and collecting my thoughts.
Then I heard this:

Woman on cell phone: ...yeah, that bill put a damper on all my plans. I wanted to go to Kings Plaza and do a lil shopping. You know, buy things for myself and the we're meeting tomorrow at what time?....2:45 or 3, sounds great. The weather will be better.....right....another reason I'm glad to be seeing you tomorrow is- well you know where I'd, Kings Plaza! (giggles) I shouldn't be spending anything and I have enough clothes, but a shirt here n' there is like a pick-me-up....

I listened and realized if I were a middle aged Jewish woman sitting on my cell in a Dunkin' Donuts, then that would be ME! I have been known to say the EXACT same thing, I don't always go to Kings Plaza, but I love spending money I don't have and blaming it on my NEED for retail therapy. Have been trying to be better about that. I wanted to buy that woman a donut and pat her on the shoulder-then I realized that she was kinda annoying and she would take this as me wanting to be friendly. Also, I would be an enabler because I would be right there with her at Kings Plaza buying a ton of shit I don't need.