just a thought

Just a thought...

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Thu, 28 Nov 2013 16:39:00 +0000

This Thanksgiving while you enjoy the time with your loved ones, nestle in your comfy couch and take joy in the fact that you get to have that time with those you love. Ask yourself, what more do I need? Ask yourself that question before you drag your family out in the cold to get another black Friday deal! Sales and Customer service workers must have families too? they must like that warm cozy feeling too? I'm sure they'd love to take joy in being with their family and not yours (no offense).

I know it's great for the economy (so they say) and some of those workers may have "volunteered" for those shifts. I can make arguments for it and shit, but you can't tell me this shit hasn't gotten ridiculous! Toys r Us black Friday sale starts today and 4pm. Oh, you want to eat, fuck food, fuck your family you need to get kneed in the nuts for an x-box. Seriously?! And I'm pretty sure if you look around you, right now, look, there's no space but you're gonna find some for that shiny new thing(it's OK we're capitalist).

I stumbled on a black Friday sale once, needed a last minute party dress, day of. I got the dress really cheap, I bought a jacket (because it was so damn cheap) and the store gave me another jacket, I've barely worn for free. That was three years ago, I think the point is, big whoop. I'm sure I can find somethings to buy and I'm not preaching to you and passing judgement on your need for deals! But come on folks, how much shit do you need? And at what cost? Here's a little secret about retail, come closer, shit is always on sale (don't go telling everybody).

I'm not saying don't run out for those door buster deals but try your best and say no to the sales that have to happen today, at least. If you don't go, they won't do it...With all that said, I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving! (Please don't buy shit today)

Just a thought...

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Fri, 15 Nov 2013 01:51:00 +0000

dangerouslee.biz

For, like a few months in College I was walking around telling folks I was celibate, never realizing I just wasn't getting laid (huge difference). I was in school, working and not concerned with the emotions of my nether regions but I called it celibacy.Celibacy sounded, proper and chaste of me and I somewhat believed that the one half hearted, not serious, laughable relationship I had, had went a mock because of the sex. Why? Because.

Hey N.a.G! I see where you're going with this and that's not fair. My vagina has taken a pounding, the last couple of months and she needs a break!

Yeah N.a.G! I've done a dirty bar crawl with my penis (I'm sticking with medical terms as to not scare you away to early) and I need to lock it away for a few!

Hey listen, I get it, my libido straight left with my ex, packed up and walked out the door. I pray she hasn't left forever and her returning doesn't have to involve him (she gets a very important say in the decision making) however I'm not practicing a damn thing! And if I had to negate something from my former relationship, that in hindsight I think will help make the next better, it isn't the sex!

Every, other, few months or so, there's a pop starlet or bald black man giving women advice on locking up vagina's to lock down the one! It's your cursed vagina; not your bad taste in men, nativity, bad odds or taking advice from penises on vagina shit or vice-versa that's caused your relationship rut; it's your pretty parts (my shit is pretty, describe yours however you'd like). Why and further more who cares?! I read a personal essay today that's everything deep and shit I wanted to say about this on MadameNoir (Click on MadameNoir to go to essay if you're curious).

In order to be worthy of something good you have to be re-virginized(I made it up)? This idea that your relationship(s) don't/didn't work because; you gave it up too quick, too much, too soon, before marriage, on the first date, on the third, before you met his parents; I hope you see where I'm going with this.

There's something unnatural about rejecting or trying so hard to hate on something so natural. There's nothing wrong with taking a break, giving it a breather, holding hands and being all six grade again but say that and do that. Don't get on the "I sealed my privates in figurative Saran wrap so all good things are going to happen..." and for my little ladies who grew up on 2D cartoons and are pulling these stunts; it isn't going to be a slip and slide forever ... just a thought...

Just a thought...

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Tue, 05 Nov 2013 06:25:00 +0000

www.ebay.com

Could we all have access to a true, truth spell; it comes at almost zero cost (many times zero) and is pretty much part of every aspect of life? The C.I.A uses it as a form of torture, it makes people surrender, do harm to themselves, I mean, if the C.I.A is using it, well, we know it's wrong but more then likely effective (see Scandal) so what is this thing you ask?

I've gone through this stupid ass breakup (denial in it's most immature form) and I thought I was over it right? And many times I am, I get my treadmill on, I drink my green tea, I get all zen and shit about all the fucked up shit happening around me. I tell myself and those around me I'm good, this relationship was a lesson; all that shit. I sometimes mean it, then, Michael McDonald and Patti La belle's On my Own comes on Pandora and I'm a wet, sad pile of emotions in the tub! I can't deny that every word of the track is drumming up feelings of my ex, playing out romantic scenarios in my head that never happened, because that's what a broken heart does! However after breaking down for the millionth time (fuck that song and Pandora station) I choose to share this epiphany and make the world a better place with music!

Think about it ladies and gents. Instead of taking your cheating spouse on Maury and making an ass out of both of you (just don't), pop in TLC's creep as he/she comes through the door! Whatever the fuck music does to the weak human psyche will take place and poof, you got the truth! You all are very welcome. However don't go abusing this power now and be mindful that it can't be any old song, the tune must evoke the proper emotion to induce the proper response -Yes, this is what I'm doing with my time you don't get to fucking judge- and if all else fails, if you don't know or this is just too complicated just play Mary J.Blige; you'll admit,you're missing the ex you say you're not, stole that five dollars from your sister in 95' and you let that guy touch it, that you told everyone you didn't...

Proceed cautiously!

Just a thought...

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Thu, 31 Oct 2013 03:53:00 +0000

purrrr.com

HELLO!

Can I just say I didn't want to, not now, not never, no no (insert Kat Williams stomping around on stage, sweaty in over sized clothes) come back to doing this!

After I wrote that downer of a break-up post and went through a horrific, drawn out, break up, the last thing I wanted to do was talk about what was happening with me ( I just can't admit nothing was happening, I'm lame and he may read this) or tell a joke at any one's expense and definitely not at mine.

But then I had a thought, every time I tell a joke at my expense or get around my folk, my girls and let loose, I feel that much better! It's that simple and I thought what I miss the most is talking to y'all, you all for those who'd like to be proper. I missed you guys, I missed the jokes we shared and I miss how doing this, makes me feel. *taps mic* ALLOW ME TO REINTRODUCE MYSELF (again):

10. I'm obviously doing ten, everybody does ten and I will not deviate from some of the stuff everybody does! Shit made no sense but it's my blog so deal!

9. so yeah I'm single again....moving on

8. I've gone from vodka to whiskey! don't say I didn't tell you next time we see each other.

7. I'm doing cliche shit like going to the gym and I can't tell you what my hairs been through ...poor follicles.

6. I have a lot of free time ...

5. oh..the N.a.G thing? Hmmm I will always be a N.a.G I'll always be a vagina crusader but right now all I have are scattered thoughts I'd love to throw out there.

4. I think someone needs to save Kanye while we still can!!!!!! but I be loving his asshole shit sometimes ...judge me!

3. Cali is on pause....moving on....move on!

2. Why you gotta wait for Jay-Z to tell you to boycott some shit?!

1. My new favorite thing is making chilli ...yep...whiskey and chilli...

Not all Girlz. Don't feel shame.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Wed, 12 Jun 2013 21:28:00 +0000

videobible.powweb.com

Today the blinds in my apartment went up. Today I let the sun in. Today I stepped outside into the world and bought a beautiful bouquet of flowers; orange lilies, roses and a whole host of other stuff. Today I picked up three bottles of wine and a bottle vodka for my much needed night with the ladies. Today I admit to myself that it's over and no matter how much I sulk it won't come back, the mean words won't go unsaid, the awkward silences won't stop being awkward and it's back to me and not we.

The love songs don't sting as much and I've gone from Anita Baker to Beyonce (the evolution has begun) today I watch our dreams, the things we talked about float away in a plum of smoke. I've asked for the keys, the doors have a closed; this is really over.

I packed some of his shit today. I stopped being ashamed today. Today I realized I gave it my all. Today I admit that I don't want it to end but it has to. I've deleted my facebook and Twitter apps; what once seemed like the depressing lives of others seem to outshine mine. On the other end of this I know there are happy times, so many happy times but right now; I'm going to sit in this sunshine and wait for my friends. In the end there's always family and friends.

Not all Girlz. Grow

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Tue, 14 May 2013 03:05:00 +0000

I'm writing this blog on my cell in a hotel room somewhere in Santa Monica a few hours before my 32nd birthday (wow I just shared my actual birthday with y'all)

I sat on the beach for hours today,laid in the sand and got to thinking; a year ago today, if you told me I'd quit my job with none to go to. plan to move across the country and be laying in Santa Monica unemployed the day before my birthday,I'd have a giggle but I'm doing exactly that!

I'm scared but fuck I'm so free! I barely have time for the fear. I think about the money but the money will come, as will the job, these things do. However what I'm experiencing now; a mix of freedom, awe and of course a teensy bit scared is not something everyone gets to feel and I'm doing it, I'm living it but this ain't all about me (its my damn birthday and I'm still giving)

Had I been this fearless three years ago, who knows where I'd be today but had the last three years not been what they were, I don't think I'd be here today.

Not all Girlz. Grow. fuck! when were going through hardship we just can't see the lesson and when were going through the lesson we don't stop to realize how beautiful it is, long story short; everything for a reason!

It's so cliche but hardships seem like there going to be around forever but they aren't and there are lessons and fly shit in hardship! (You can use it I won't sue you)

I don't know what the outcome of leap is going to be but I don't care, it just feels good feeling the wind in hair(I'm full of cliches today)!

Here's my advice; step outside of yourself and if shit ain't perfect right now, know that it will be, it so easy to be a pessimist! Take it from a recovering one!

I'm 3 mother effin 2 y'all! And that's a real picture of tonight's sunset on the beach:)

Not all Girlz. Fear.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 00:26:00 +0000

uwctrucking.blogspot.com

I woke up on the wrong side of fear this morning which started last night. Last night whilst I searched for a new place in my soon to be new home, panic began to set in. The listings were all fabulous but the listings I could afford, the listings that were more my speed -broke people shit- involved security systems, neighborhoods that weren't showing up on Google maps -where the fuck that at?!- and some sketchy ass yelp reviews. I told the boo how I was feeling when he got home but in true boo form he waved it all away and told me to "relax."

I relaxed enough last night to go to bed and not make my man psychotic but this morning I woke up with "the fear" triple fold;

"fuck I won't have a gig in two weeks! I don't want to live in a neighborhood that was mentioned on the Chronic -there's a clue for you!- goddammit why ain't my money long enough to not worry about this shit?!" Yeah I was doing all that thinking first thing in the am and then an angel stopped by desk. We're always asking the universe for signs, at least, I am and sometimes the shit comes, clear as day and we bypass looking for something bigger, but anyway. This angel in the form of a co-worker stopped by to ask, whether or not my impeding resignation was true and I confirmed, she asked what my plans were for the next life, and because I value her opinion I honestly told her and in the midst of telling her all my fear came bubbling up and I also admitted how scared I was and all the shit I was scared of, her response;

"Girl, if you keep thinking about all that shit, you're never going to do it. Get on a plane and go out there and do what you gotta do, you'll be fine!"

Not all Girlz. Fear. It's been awhile since I've felt real fear, good for you fear. What's good for you fear? It's the kind of fear that makes you move your ass because you have no other choice. It's the kind of fear that makes you conquer your inability to network. The kind of fear that makes you have to humble yourself and ask, it's also the kind of fear that makes you work so fucking hard because you know that at the end of that fear is sheer fucking accomplishment and Joy!

I'm not trying to get all Kumbaya on your asses but it's been a minute since I've felt motivational fear. I been feeling beat down fear, worried about bullshit fear, fear of what my mom is going to post on Facebook next -I'm still not over the fact that she's on it and no I won't talk about it, yet- but this fear I remember, this fear is my FUEL it's what's going to fly me from here to wherever I land next.

Ladies, ignore the bullshit everyday fear, save it up for something good, something awesome, just remember when the fear bought on some fuel!

Not all Girlz. Fall apart.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Wed, 06 Mar 2013 21:11:00 +0000

www.glopho.com

It's strange how eliminating one fear can eat away at a whole slew of other fears. When I was in my early twenties -ugh- I lost my job; the company I was working for unceremoniously shut it's doors one day. I was in college at the time, living at home with my mom and figured that I'd get a job, soon enough.

From the age of eighteen up until that point, I didn't have much of a problem getting employed; I had an internship in corporate America -that was a big fat no- decided not to go back, got a stereotypical mall job at Sears, quit that, went on to be an assistant at a doctors office, quit that, worked at my college for awhile and finally quit that to take a job as a receptionist/office assistant at this advertising agency; all those jobs happened within two years, hence why prolonged unemployment wasn't a concern.

I applied for everything and anything I could get; assistant work, retail work went on a few strange interviews and then one day it all stopped for, one whole year. For a whole year there wasn't a call, there wasn't an email, or an interview. I kept on applying but the idle time was taking a toll on my psyche. I developed insomnia; I roamed my mothers apartment halls like a lifeless zombie, day and night. The little bit of bills I had, began to pile up but I refused to ask anyone for help -thank God for pell checks- slowly I started to feel undesirable; it felt like I'd never be hired again and though the idea of being unemployed back then was less riskier than it will be at this stage in my life- I was living at home, I didn't have a mortgage, an iPhone, a crazy pup and a taste for designer wares- it took a very dark toll on me. My relationship with my mother became strained, I didn't want to hang out with my boyfriend or friends for that matter, didn't get much joy out of anything; it took everything I had to see the silver lining. I eventually got a job, actually got three jobs within two months, after that hellish year but after that experience, I promised myself I'd never be unemployed again!

Not all Girlz. Fall Apart. I've wanted to move out of New York for sometime but convinced myself that my apartment was holding me back but this week I seriously started looking at places to live in a undisclosed location (I want to believe you care and wanna know). I don't know how to drive -don't fucking judge I live in NY- tried to learn a long time ago but I freaked out behind the wheel and just stopped, this weekend, I started at it again and you know what, driving ain't so scary (granted I was just in a parking lot but I'm making progress assholes). Could all these fears be falling away because I've conquered my one big fear that even I didn't want to admit to myself?

In a few weeks I will be unemployed yet again but this time I've volunteered to be. I didn't volunteer to be unemployed, I volunteered to be happy, the unemployment part just comes along with it. I had to fall apart, I had to go through some of the worst times in the past few years to make the decision that enough was enough. I had to be so broken that my fear no longer mattered but more important than the fear I had to remember that after that year, I was all of a sudden offered three jobs, one of which would lead me to the career and job I hold today! I had to let go of all the icky, scary feelings and remember that after that dark time, the silver lining was blinding. Soon I will be writing this blog on a beach, with my car parked and waiting and all it took was a few panic attacks, endless bottles of liquor and borderline mental breakdown. - I really hope you're a little easier on yourself JESUS!-

Not all Girlz. Op-ed

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Sat, 02 Mar 2013 22:40:00 +0000

http://doggies.com/

A few weeks ago the boo and I got a pup. This wasn't a spur of the moment decision. For a year he watched The Dog Whisperer, read books on what breed would best fit us and finally we decided we'd go with an Olde English Bulldogge, I just couldn't fathom living with a pit bull; his first choice, I didn't want a dog that could very possibly eat me. Prior to picking up Wolfgang-yes that's his name- he assured me that our dog wouldn't be like other dogs, he'd read the books, DVR'd numerous episodes of The Dog Whisperer, had dozens of conversations with other dog owners; he was prepared to train our pup into tip top shape. I didn't want to be a negative nilly but I'd had a dog before, he's still with my younger sister, my adorable, yet very devilish Mr. chow-lets not front you envy my animal names- I warned him that dogs, like children didn't always do what you wanted them to. I warned that there would be hard times but he assured me, he had it.

Two weeks ago Wolfgang finally came home and from a distance I watched him get frustrated with Wolfgang's unwillingness to do his business when he went for walks. I watched my man, who comes home at 3am in the morning, wake up dead tired at 9am to feed Wolfgang, take Wolfgang to the vet, walk with Wolfgang, I saw the tiredness in his eyes but he never gave up. He watched the Dog Whisperer in the morning before work to brush up on what he had learned, he didn't have much time for the books but what shocked me was how soft and non disciplinarian he actually is.

Growing up, we use to call my mom "the dragon lady" the we includes me, my sisters and step dad. She got this name because her nose would flair when she got angry and it looked like fire was going to come out - we were horrible children- and as I tell you all the lovely things my man is doing with this pup I found myself on the flip end trying to enforce the rules;

No Wolfgang
Stop Wolfgang
Don't touch this Wolfgang
Babe he's tearing up my shoe!

This is how it all happened to my mom! She didn't want to be the disciplinarian but she sort of had to be, she had to scare us straight sometimes because she knew that though my step-dad; sweet kind and very attentive to our every need just couldn't find it in him to discipline us and honestly when he did, we didn't take him serious. For the past few days I couldn't help but wonder does this mean this is the kind of dad, the boo is going to be -don't get too happy I haven't changed my mind on the kiddies- and can I for see the kind of mom I would be given our current circumstance?

I don't know what it means but I'll tell you this, I would be glad to have my man be the father of my children -fuck that's plural isn't it-. If you're looking at your mate, wondering, what he'd be like as a dad, I say, start with a pup or kitty; might not tell you everything about him but it'll tell you some things about him and a lot of things about yourself. And in the end if you both suck at it you can take the dog to a trainer; it's way cheaper than boarding school.

I'm the fucking dragon lady! sorry mom!

Not all Girlz. Threaten

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 16:52:00 +0000

feminspire.com

For the past year or so, I've been trying to remodel myself. I stopped seeing and knowing who I was/am and instead tried to reconfigure me to suit those who found me to be; intimidating, too much, full of myself etc. Story of my life! These assumptions on my personality weren't made because I opened my mouth and said something in particular but because I spoke up for myself, carried myself in a certain way and I have to tell you, it wasn't fun. Now that I'm up here flying, I can see how ridiculous I was to think that changing my energy would make other people comfortable; people who judge from a distance are usually projecting their shit on to you but any who...

Yesterday I was on the train on my way home, headphones on, minding my own business and caught a grown woman out of the corner of my eye being "cute."Cute; faking the high pitched voice, "I don't know" is the answer to it all, bating the eyes on overload, hopping around like a juvenile on sugar, you get the point. I don't judge, be who you are, do what you feel but her cuteness irked me. This women's cuteness didn't really irk me as much as it reminded me of a few very intelligent women I know, who fall back on the cute factor.

Not all Girlz. Threaten. Call me regal, beautiful, striking but don't fucking call me cute! I'm tired of having to bring my shit down a notch because of the way it may make other people feel. Yes I'm talking about men but women too! In the environment in which I work, there are countless, smart, amazing women who dumb it down just because they don't want to be branded a bitch! In my everyday life I watch girls dumb it down on dates, when around groups of men, in order to make the men comfortable. And lets not talk about the looks and comments I get when I state, I am a feminist.
Why must we play it down? Why can't I own my no bullshit factor? If I were a man I'm pretty sure my reputation would be very different but because I have this scary ass vagina, it's more; "she think she all that" and I do, just so you know.

However I could careless about how my shit makes men feel this is more me asking, why the fuck y'all trying to be grown and cute?! For all the women out there faking the high pitched voices, who "don't know" shit about anything and jump around in peoples faces like a twelve year old adolescents, when in all actuality you know you can take this shit over; why are you doing this? You're making it harder for me, you're making it OK for people to sing boob songs on national TV with your, I'm cool with everything attitude.

What is wrong with being upset with shit? What's wrong with acknowledging the fact that it's not OK for certain things to happen? why are you re tweeting a man calling a nine year old girl, a cunt?! you fuckers are upsetting me!!! And at the end of the day what you're trying to do or what I assume you're trying to do isn't taking effect, because when you get to where you want to be, you'll be up there and still be that "cute" little girl not that smart ass woman!

I'm not telling you to go out there busting balls all day but when you feel the need to step on a few, fucking step on them. Debate with your date about politics and if that scares him away; wave as you watch him runaway. I don't know, be who you are but if you're putting all this sugar out there because you're scared of how the spice will be perceived, don't be mad when you get relegated to the kids table.

Not all Girlz. Fly

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Sun, 24 Feb 2013 04:46:00 +0000

www.quitecurious.com -

This week I learned I have wings. It's a funny fucking thing, learning I've always had the capabilities to fly but have been dragging my ass around for the past few months. And before you start thinking flying is all fun and fucking games, let me tell you flying is fun but one of the scariest experiences of my life thus far -I've been hit by a car twice, I'm saying-.

No one tells you that when you discover your wings the skies you fly in may be extremely murky or that the unemployment rate in the sky is still high (this ain't Reading Rainbow) no one tells you that when you learn to fly, those flying around you may be flying just as blind but let me be the first to tell you; the fear, the anxiety, the occasional tears are all worth it when you're flying and watching the rest of the world walk!

For the past three years I've been walking among mortals; paying bills, spending eight hours of my life somewhere I couldn't bare to be and the rest of my day complaining about it.

The decision to resign from my job wasn't one that I took lightly, it literally took years to make this decision. I love the people I work with, I love the work that I do but something wasn't right, a lot of things weren't right -panic attacks aren't fun- but I made the decision for myself, for my health and as I sit here typing, watching Tom Cruise and his annoying ass fictional children run from aliens I gotta tell you; not knowing what's going to happen is more fun then walking around knowing exactly what my days have in store.

I'm writing this in part to make myself feel better. I'm writing this in part because the fear hit me like a bag of bricks awhile ago and I'm also writing because every time I get scared, I remember I AM FUCKING FLYING!

I can't tell you that this decision is for you if you're going through what I've been through. I don't know if it's going to work out but I can tell you for the first time, in a long time, I feel like myself again. I don't know what the future holds but I know before I land again, I'm going to survey the ground, I'm going to listen, I'm going to look around and like the last time I flew; I'm ready to discover some new and amazing powers - hopefully I can turn coins into dollars- but in the meantime, if you need a writer, your favorite blogger needs a job!

Not all Girlz. Not the only

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Thu, 03 Jan 2013 18:53:00 +0000

http://hdwallpapersdesktop.com

Read. Comment. Share. Discuss.

Happy New Year!

I'm going to act like the look hasn't changed because I'm not sold on it yet. Continue...

When I turned thirty, I felt liberated, happy, ready to come into the woman I was meant to be (there was a blog post about it if you care). Then I turned 31 and found myself on an over populated island; the land of the only.

If thirty is fun, flirty and free, thirty-one is the year of; what's wrong with me? Why only me? Am I the only chick not going to the gym? (I'm going to try in 2013 but don't bet on it) Am I the only one ready to chalk all this shit up and go live on a beach selling seashells? (Or fish tacos) Am I the only one who no longer believes in one soul mate? (I think we all get a few) There are so many only's.

In the past few months I've had a series of redundant conversations with a few of my girlfriends and a week ago I started to notice that I wasn't the only one thinking about all these damn onlys.

I'm the only one not doing something cool?
I'm the only one without a man?
I'm the only one who ain't saving some money?
Am I the only one who doesn't care about all this bullshit? -she was talking about all of it!

YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY!

After having spoken to more than a few about their"only" problems, it's more than obvious that these problems aren't unique to you or me. I blame the internets! If you didn't know what everyone else was up to, you wouldn't feel like the only anything. Facebook/Twitter/Instagram and all that other shit is telling you something, I gotta tell you ladies;"You think you know but you have no idea." This should be obvious, we're all grown, we're not children, this isn't Catfish (I'm obsessed) we know that we can't surmise what is really happening in one's life within one hundred and forty characters but low and behold, you don't, I don't, none of us seem to know any better, let's not front. But the internets don't get all the blame, I also blame myself, blame my fear for wanting an example before it leaps. When you start thinking it's only you, maybe that's because it should be!

I had a lot of time over the holiday to think about it. I don't think my fear is that I'm the "only."My fear just may be that I'm doing something wrong. If no one else is following or has followed my current path, how can I know the path I've chosen is right? I can't ever know but when I start to feel sad and solitary I know it's a sign that something's gotta change; I've got to do things differently and that doesn't mean vacating the solitary island, it means creating a different map. It could only be me and that's ok. right now, I shall not get gassed by anyone else's path, be it real or on social media -y'all folks living lies-

Happy 2013!

Not all Girlz. Give Thanks.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Mon, 19 Nov 2012 17:14:00 +0000

Read. Comment. Share. Discuss.

Will I ever get to a point in life where meeting the parents becomes easier? And I'm asking this question only after my grown ass thought I was over the parents jitters (guess I ain't so grown) Yesterday my man nonchalantly mentioned we're going to dinner with his dad on Thanksgiving. Just like that, trying on suit jackets he says "Thursday before we have dinner with my dad we can try for a suit in the city..." say what now?! Is this dude forreal?! Not only has he sprung it on me that I'll be meeting his dad in the flesh for the first time (Dinner his dad is flying in for) but it seems he wasn't going to give me the heads up at all!

The boo and I have been together for a little over a year, I've met his mom over Skype (she lives in another country) my relationship with his mom is cool; she sends me post cards and chocolates (very delicious chocolates) and I can't help but think the distance is what makes our relationship work. Long distance relationships with my mates parents, I'm all about that!

Look, I don't want to give you the wrong impression. It's not that I don't do good with parents, it's just the stress of meeting the parents, Ben Stiller was on to something there although he should have stopped at the first movie but I digress...

Why the hell would he tell me this on a Sunday?! Giving me only three days to get my hair done in between having to work. I have to get a new outfit. Is his dad going to google me?! (this is a real thing now FML) what if he's a right winged conservative?! What if he hits on me?! -that's happened- what if he starts asking me math questions?! let's not even talk about table etiquette and all that shit!

I haven't expressed any of this to the boo and I'm not going to -it's that whole, make shit look effortless when it really isn't, woman shit- but folks, I have three days, to cover up, get rid of a few tattoos and minimize my use of the f-word(the biggest challenge of them all). I can't tell you how happy I am that the elections are over, no need to discuss politics because we all know the parents are going to be of whatever thinking I'm completely opposed too! I'm not going to touch the subject of booze drinking, though I've mastered the art of being tipsy and looking good -sit still in a corner and smile whenever someone makes direct eye contact.-

I knew this day would come, it will only be a few hours with his dad and he just might love me, he just may have a hood hippie inside of him, savor Jameson, doesn't care how long it'll take Susie to beat Debbie to the train if they live at equal distances but are using different modes of transportation and love chicks with tats! And if non of that pans out I still get to leave with his son and hang out with my crazy family that accepts the rated R version of me!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Not all Girlz. Don't Follow

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Wed, 12 Sep 2012 15:24:00 +0000

http://www.duplexchick.com

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Almost a year ago I accepted an invitation to a date with a guy I didn't care for. There was a point when I had some actual feelings for this guy, a point when this guy and I were "dating" but slowly he started to disappear, calls became text messages, his schedule became impossible to fit into and eventually he just fell off the map. There was no phone conversation, no text, he sort of faded into the background as meekly as he'd showed up.

When this guy disappeared I went on with my life, dated other people but I won' t lie, I wondered what happened? Why didn't this guy like me, of all people?! I'm cool, I'm understanding, I ain't stuck on bullshit archaic rules; I'm fucking perfect! -I need a confidence boost this am-

This guy in bed and on paper was the kind of guy I could see myself with, the kind of guy I imagined was my match -whatever the fuck that means- long story short, I was lukewarm for the guy, not hot but when he faded I made up a whole fantasy about him being the proverbial it!

Not all Girlz. Don't Follow Mr. lukewarm resurfaced at a random party -the biggest city in the world is the smallest when it comes to who you're bumping uglies with- The text messages began again, all of sudden his jam packed schedule opened up but this time I didn't bite. It was his turn to wonder. But he didn't wonder long. He persisted and finally I accepted. -After a few late night hook ups to remind me of the better parts of him- The day of our official "date" I didn't want to go. After a few hook ups, I realized I didn't like this guy he wasn't the guy for me, he was lukewarm and I'm all about hot!

You know the feeling when you don't know why you're hanging out with someone? No? Let me set it up for you; you go out with boy, he's cute and all but nothing is happening for you, more is happening with boy. He ask you out again and you go because maybe the first time was a fluke, plus, this market isn't so good (don't believe that shit) OR my favorite; you go out with boy, you're not interested, he's not interested but you stress over him not being interested and all of sudden you find yourself interested in a Mr. lukewarm? If it's never happened to you, I want to be you for a day!

I didn't want to go on the date but I did. I had nothing else to do and part of me still thought we'd be kinda cute together in that Cosby like way, minus the five children. That night when I walked into the bar I knew I made a mistake but then I spotted a hot bartender, whom I had a great conversation with before Mr. lukewarm showed up. The date was lukewarm (word of the day) he paid more attention to the TV at the bar which was OK with me because I was paying attention to the bartender. I left the bartender no tip but I did leave him a note and my number and haven't spoken to Mr lukewarm since. But I talk to that bartender, just about everyday...

There will always be rule books out there on dating. There will always be some guy telling you that thinking more like him, will get you more guys -why not just date a guy- but at the end of the day; screw what people say, do what you would do had you never read any of these shitty rules. As my favorite bartender said "Babe, the problem with girls is they wait for us to say what we like and then they try to be that! girls should just be themselves and do what they feel and they'll attract the guy that's right for them!"

Not all Girlz. Don't stay in line.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Thu, 16 Aug 2012 02:01:00 +0000

http://kayedu.edu.glogster.com

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Tonight I took to the canvas for the first time. I've been thinking about a lot, from the new all women Saudi Arabian city to the psychology of women who defend a man that head butts a woman, his wife nonetheless.

I've wanted to paint for a very long time but hadn't an inkling as to what I wanted to paint about, what style of art I was into or what my idea of art would produce.

Words allow me to express my thoughts plainly. But even when I think I'm being plain, people come away with lessons I never intended or thought of as I was writing the words. Sometimes the lessons you take away, weren't my intent at all and in those times, I am proud, I believe in my writing and sometimes it scares me but not enough to make me stop.

Art is new, how do I start? What's my point? how do I know it's any good? Tonight I hit the canvas with a goal, find out what's really going on in this head space of mine without the words. No drinks, no substances, legal or otherwise. It was me, a few paint brushes, blank canvas, paint, Miles Davis and Mr. Coltrane. I picked up a color, then another, then another and out of nowhere tears began to stream down my face.

A girlfriend of mine, spiritual advisor, fellow fiasco survivor, resigned today. The weight is felt. I'm happy for her, ecstatic, dancing in the clouds and framing the pictures of her unicorn in my mind but still, a pain, the pain, is felt.

I came here to write about sisterhood, solidarity, about the unconditional love and compassion we should have for one another, even in times when we're embarrassed by the actions of our sisters but like the paint on the canvas, I shouldn't have to say that to you. The thought, this feeling of solidarity when we need each other the most should be felt. You should see through boxes and names such as hoe, slut, bitch because at some point you've been placed in that box or a few of them, by somebody. Frankly my dears when one of us has been attacked none of that shit matters!

It doesn't matter that I don't like her doesn't matter that she's doing some shit I'd never do or some shit, I wouldn't stand for. It doesn't matter if she goes back, I have to understand that it takes time to walk away. I recognize her misguided search for love, I understand that colors run and you can fight to keep them in line but sometimes you just can't.

Find your understanding. There are women out there fighting for a city and their city can't be a reality, if they build it only to hurl hate at each other. These women need a city to seek refuge to find the unspoken love and sense of community that I have with my sister, my friend with you. These women must understand that their city if given must be a haven because the men around them, have the world. Find your understanding.

Love.

Not all Girlz. Don't buy compliments.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Wed, 01 Aug 2012 16:15:00 +0000

planetoddity.com

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It's the advertisers job to sell women and the overall general population products by harping on our insecurities and for the most part they're successful because we can't recognize how much the bastards are insulting us! They sell men cologne by telling them that women will flock towards their Brute in full force (axe is kind of a repellent for me) and they sell women birth control with synchronized swimming and brunch dates with their girls.

Yesterday as I was glued to the story of this notorious date rapist (don't ask and I won't tell) being brought down by the ingenuity of one persistent woman and a few good samaritans I couldn't help but recognize how 5th avenue execs are tripping and I'm here to call the new Don Drapers out or at least make them see the error in their ways.

Not all Girlz. Don't buy compliments. It started with a commercial for a women's face lift product. The start of this commercial was fine but somewhere along the way, the commercial stop being about the product or the women using it but about how great the husbands thought these women looked after they'd used it. What does this product or procedure do? I'm not sure. I've seen the commercial a couple of times and I still don't know but what I do know is that, that shit will make my man think I'm hot when I become a old wrinkly prune! Then there was a commercial about a mom making tasty snacks after school and though her daughter was in the room, her son is the one that paid her the compliment that mattered. A funny thing happens when you start to notice shit like this, you can't stop! This is partly in jest but I'm mostly serious; stop fucking telling me that I should have some shit because some dude or my dude will think, I'm better for it.

I love MadMen, watch it all the time and I'd like to think the Roger Sterlings and Don Drapers of the world died out and the Peggy Olsen's took over and are currently rocking this shit! I'd hope when Peggy takes over she'd know that she could sell me air fresher by telling me it smells yummy and not because my boo, is going to think my home smells yummy, which in turn makes me a better woman. -yep those assholes are saying all that!- Yes, it's done to men but it's done with products that are traditionally used to get women; cologne, condoms and shit like that. Almost everything else sold to men is sold using the idea that it would make guys better in the eyes of other guys; pizza, beer, BBQ, TV shows; bromances are in full effect yet I still gotta keep trying to impress somebody?! One ad even sold fucking laundry detergent with the, your man will think your better hook. -shout out to Gain for the Wanda Sykes ads-

Note to ad executives; when I buy some shit, I buy it because I need it, want it and sometimes I'm trying to impress with it but I don't need you throwing that in my fucking face! I sure the hell ain't buying cereal or detergent for a compliment, if I get one, that's all good but I'm not digging for it. Ladies, lets be real, whens the last time buying some detergent, chocolate, after school snacks or health bar have gotten you a compliment from a man or a man for that matter? I'll wait...

It's all good, I'm not that mad at 5th avenue, they have to make their money but I'm annoyed enough to write about it, when they interrupt my cliche television watching to reinforce some cliche product advertising, I just have to say some shit! I'm not making sense at all today!

Not all Girlz. Need a program.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Mon, 30 Jul 2012 15:56:00 +0000

www.guardian.co.uk

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Hello! It's been a long time and I know there are a few new N.a.Gs in the building. You've been liking the facebook page in droves, more like one a month but I'll take it! Thank you and welcome!

I've been writing for another site and it's been a dream come to life, not that I wasn't living the dream writing for you girls but someone is now paying me for my bullshit! You're on a whole other level when someone pays you for your insane thoughts and musings. My new writing experience is amazing and beautiful and I'm not bragging, I'm just saying, stay with what you love and eventually what you love will show love back! Believe beauties, believe!

I believe it's my job to inform and entertain and though I've not been taking that job too seriously here (I apologize) check out a few of my postings at madamenoir.com or go to the facebook page where you can find direct links and you'll see that I've been on the job and like the page already -shameless plug-

All is the same and not with me. I've been writing, I've been producing and that's all the things I've been doing outside of my pay for my life gig. I've been living the hustle life of a real New Yorker and though I love all the great things I've been doing lately, I need a break!

This weekend a study came out that found Americans in prime fertile age are halting on bringing little bundles of bills, I mean, Joy, into the world. I can imagine the scientist who decided to study this was sitting in a lab thinking, I'm tired of studying this depressing shit, I need a break from blood cells and super bugs and thought why not study babies? Only to come to the conclusion that even the subject of babies is taking a depressing slide downward -poor well meaning scientist- it's not going down for us the way it went down for our parents! Nothing seems to be goddammit! The study shows -look the shit up yourself if you want the details- that Americans have put off having babies (pass the shots). There are a myriad of factors, bad economies, crazy screaming babies in public, facebook pages on baby overload, I didn't read fully into it but I'll tell you one thing, if America wants y'all to have more babies (I purposely didn't add myself) then they need to start programming peoples lives.

Not all Girlz. Need a program. Last week I was at the height of busy when my body started to send signals that though I felt all good and excited, working 18 hour days wasn't such a good idea but I ignored that heffa, I kept pushing on. I had something to prove to myself, it's been a long time since I've been overwhelmed by work, it's been awhile since I've been on my hustle and you factor in all the people around me doing 2 to 9 gigs, I felt like I wasn't earning my way so I pushed ahead and I conquered those 18 hours days only to have a cold waiting for me on the back end!

The cold wasn't too bad, I shooed that away too with a couple bottles of Guinness (there's iron in it) some bitters and peppermint tea! Soon after I got over the cold, I made an appointment for the nail salon. In the salon, the Olympics were playing, it was women's volley ball, have y'all seen the bodies on the women on the volley ball team?! where the fuck do they find the time?

That's what I was thinking in the nail salon, that's what I'm thinking now and how does this all play into the baby study? Growing up, I went to New York City public schools and every new semester, I'd get a program card. The program card was decided/dictated by a committee of teachers, at least that's how I imagined it, who made sure that you were a well rounded person. There was a little math, English, history, gym but this program card wasn't solely arbitrary, it was based on the past semesters performance and had to fit into your overall high school goal (not get caught bullshitting). How great would life be if we could get program cards?! For all you non believers that are gonna suggest life planners and shit, I ain't paying no one to organize my shit and I wouldn't listen anyway.

Every year there should be a committee created that determines what you need in your life to make you a well rounded person. Throw in a little Gym to accomplish a donk like the chicks on the Olympic volleyball team. A little recess, so we don't burn out and somewhere in there we can find some room for some babies! And be the kind of people ready and well rounded enough to raise those babies -you didn't think my shit was going to come full circle-

I was kind of happy about the baby story, it means next time I tell someone I don't want to procreate and they give me the side eye, I can side eye right back and say none of the cool kids are procreating anymore and for those of you who want to procreate but are putting it off, I feel your pain, I can't manage two gigs and a boyfriend that's gotten too use to my home cooking, I don't know what I would do with a baby!

Not all Girlz. Op-ed

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Tue, 05 Jun 2012 15:19:00 +0000

yaykisspurr.wordpress.com

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Not much has been happening with me since the last time we “spoke.” I’m still part of a pair and it’s going well, not that you asked. Since last we spoke, I’ve changed my mind on something I never thought I would. I believe the end is near! Yes people, it’s finally happened. I know, I’ve said this isn’t something we can predict but I think the end is around the corner, a few more centuries and we’re done! Why? Why have I changed my position on this suddenly? First of all it wasn’t as sudden as you think.

It all started when Vibe magazine declared those basketball leeches, role models. I guess I wasn’t the only one severely affected by this. It seems that the image of those woman on the cover, along with the caption burned a horrible image in the mind of others, so bad, folks tried to erase the image out of their minds by inhaling bath salts! Instead of getting rid of the image or in addition to helping them forget, the bath salts turned these people into zombies! What the fuck is going on?! To make things worse these zombies aren’t the slow walking, entertaining kind but the kind that’ll eat your fucking face and strip you naked!

Zombies, bath salts, basketball wives, nudity and Mitt Romney (he scares me worse than face eating zombies) I don’t know when this end is going to happen but I’m convinced, it’s near. You heard it hear first, a few centuries and it’s all going down the shitter!

What if the bath salts aren’t to blame for the zombies?! What then? Could these zombies be here to stay? Will we have to pay more taxes to create a zombie task force? I need answers people, please fill that comment section with whatever suggestions you have for surviving the zombie apocalypse and email me whatever donations you’d like to make, in order to keep a N.a.G protected so I’m able to write more blogs and keep you entertained as the zombies take over. I mean, we don’t know if that guy was on bath salts for sure right now. For all we know, the zombies could be here to stay.

I don’t know what to tell you guys. Keep your jobs, protect your face and make sure you have duck tape and trash bags, if they can protect against an “attack” that shouldn’t exclude, zombies. I mean, really? Look ladies, keep in touch, send your donations and remember, it’s going to be over in a few centuries or so, get the getting while the getting is good folks.

Peace, love and steer clear of zombies!

Not all Girlz. Op-ed

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Wed, 23 May 2012 17:46:00 +0000

hiphopwired.com

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Ugh!

A few years ago out of nowhere it hit me that I was a feminist but not just the normal run of the mill feminist but a black feminist, one who cared about all women but black women especially and yes that is me, standing on a podium with a black leather glove on, with my fist in the air. See, I've come to learn how necessary it is to be a black feminist and how very important it is to proclaim it but before I try to get you to see why and how, I must tell you it's something that I believe I was born with and my realization, only happened because I couldn't take the BS anymore.

What BS you may ask? Moving forward we're going to call the BS the bull hockey because the writer in me, feels some kind of way about continuously writing BS. -that was the last time-

Yesterday I logged into Facebook for my usual creepy scan, birthday check ins, and article reading and on my timeline one magazine cover in particular, kept popping up. I vaguely recognized the faces on the cover, I'd have to be living under a rock if I didn't. It was four women, from three or four-I can't even keep count anymore-popular shows (unfortunately in my personal opinion) scantily clad (i sound like my mother) looking seducing. I took no offense to this because as I said earlier, I'm a feminist and my beliefs state that I am supportive of women, I love women and though some women may not always make the same decisions I would make it doesn't make them wrong or worse but it sure doesn't make them role models either!

By now you probably guessed that I'm talking about the recent Vibe cover - if you haven't, I am- which could have been, the cover of Maxim, the cover of right on! or the cover of one of those many booty magazines, except for the caption "our new role models".

This is the type of bull hockey that bought out the black feminist. Years ago if you can remember the black woman was discovered and brought out into the forefront. All the news stories about how successful and lonely we were led to dating shows, which in my mind led to the new plethora of mindless shows, with forty year olds, acting like thirteen year olds and the black feminist in me doesn't "hate" at all - I only hate privately every chance I get- but even the black feminist can't idly sit by and let this happen!

Role Models? I gave Vibe the benefit of the doubt, I just assumed that the editor forgot the question mark. If there were a question mark, It would have sparked a conversation about how this came to be? How is it "the media" is putting a particular type of black women in the light and that particular type keeps multiplying and why is it though I hear the many objections about these shows, the shows are doing crazy numbers, which in turn creates more of these images. But by now a day later and after a through search of my timeline on Twitter and Facebook, it's more than obvious that a question mark was never intended for that article.

The black feminist in me says, let it be, these women are entrepreneurs, their providing opportunities for other women -I think- they're getting their Lisa Raye on and flipping it on the media and flipping the bird to all those archaic women on the other side hating, which is cool. But here's, what's not cool; flipping the bird to the girls. The girls who are not yet women, the girls who are starting to think Louboutins and huge ugly bags are accomplishments in life and it's perfectly ok to wrestle your friends if you guys don't agree on a point. And the argument can be made that it's all what's given in the home and one's upbringing and if you don't expose your children to this and talk to them they will not succumb to these mind numbing examples and then there's that cover : "OUR new role models" it seems we've all fallen prey, I can't imagine what the kids are thinking…

Not all Girlz. Don't know.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 14:00:00 +0000

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Growing up I thought I knew everything there was to know about love, without ever remembering having been taught. I didn’t want to except that all men cheat! I didn’t want to have to almost take a bullet or put money in some guys’ commissary to know its love. I lived somewhere in between Bronx Tale and Poetic Justice and developed a love all on my own. But how can I know my love is true if no one ever taught me? But for a minute let us forget about the big L word and focus on the nuisances of love, what leads to love, the like process, the shacking up (if you choose to), how to make love, how to know that the love you’re making is good, in other words, I was taught the ills, the pitfalls, the trickery that can come with love but as far as my momma was concerned, we didn’t need to talk about the good stuff or the many confusing things.

I don’t blame my mom, I love her dearly and in all honesty I don’t think she could’ve taught me because like myself I don’t believe she was ever taught but why not? Most things in life I’ve learned; language, speech, applying makeup, mathematics but for some reason we think love and a like is a given.

A few months ago I decided to give my boyfriend a key to my place. This took months of scrutiny, though he was only getting the bottom lock; a conversation with my older sister had to happen, nights of anxiety transpired and still I felt uneasy about it. It wasn’t one of those, my intuition is telling me something bad but more so, how do I go about it? What does this mean for our relationship? And now that we’re practically living together –something I’ve never done before- how do I (semi) live with a man? Do I wake up with make-up on, a la Whitley on a Different world? Which bills does he pay? -He’s offered to pay whichever bill I decide but which do I decide? - Do I let him pay any bills at all? These may seem like questions someone younger than myself (flirty thirty) would be asking but I’ve never been in love, like this before.

Love like this, is a complete love, living, working, growing and making a life with another person. But all of the aforementioned things aren’t as simple as saying I’m going to do what I feel? Yes, in the long run what I choose to do is my decision but I can’t help but feel, I would be better prepared if I had been given some homework on love and done it. Matters of the heart are definitely something you feel but why blindly deal with the byproducts of these matters as if they too are feelings? In laments terms I feel love but I need some schooling on living together, when not to argue, how to deal with the roles we play in our relationship etc.

Look I'm not looking for anyone to point the finger at and though I said I would like an equation, I'd rather not - I hate math- but I must admit the older I get (the more I realize you childrens don't know what the fuck you're doing) playing these love games, the more unprepared I realize I am for them. But I'll keep playing without the rules but if you have kiddies, I think you should tell them about the things that go bump in the night and don't forget to tell them what to do when the bump feels good, because that matters too!

Not all Girlz. Op-ed

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 16:55:00 +0000

When I was seventeen I was never scared, I hung out with who I wanted, went where I wanted and tried to keep up what I thought was being cool, without breaking my moms major rules-no drugging, no babies-. I wanted so many things at that age but more than anything I wanted to be done with high school and give those fools something to envy at the reunion. When I was seventeen I thought I knew everything there was to know about life.

When I was seventeen, with my surroundings, with everything I had read, having no white friends and not necessarily being exposed to how "the other half" was living, I was still very naive about this world. In my mind anything I wanted to do was possible, I didn't see money as being an obstacle, I didn't see my lack of connections being an issue, I didn't factor in where I came from and believe it or not my blackness was the absolute last thing on my mind, that was 1999.

I'm happy I held on to a "better" image of this country and those that reside on it at seventeen. For a second I want to imagine that Trayvon Martin was just like me at seventeen, walking from a 7/11 and some dude was creeping up on me in the dark. I would have been scared but would have asked myself "what's the worse that could happen?" I would've asked this person, why he was following me. I probably would have hurled a couple of curse words his way but once I found myself being attacked, like Trayvon Martin, I would have called out for help... I would have never imagined that my life would end there.

My life, my naive seventeen year old life would have been snuffed out and I would have no idea why. Yes, in the aftermath we can speak of profiling and racism, whether or not, you want to admit, this is about color. But Trayvon Martin didn't know that, Trayvon Martin had done nothing wrong, this man was not an officer but a dude creeping up on him in the dark. Confused, pinned down, in the dark with candy and a drink, headed home and my screams for help aren't being heard and then....

I don't know what to say about Trayvon Martin and believe me I've given it a lot of thought. I cry about it, I've had moments of uncontrollable anger, it's made me look at my "other friends" very differently, it makes me look at this country differently, which means though I feel I'm not that naive seventeen year old girl, it's obvious that she was still in there somewhere and now, she's dead.

Trayvon Martin was murdered that night but for your sake and mine, I hope Trayvon didn't see or understand what was really happening, the way we are getting an understanding now.

For my Nephews.

Not all Girlz. Don't wait.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 16:00:00 +0000

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Yesterday I joined the office to play the mega millions. Before I handed over that five bucks, I said a little prayer. My co-workers and I spent a good hour talking about what it would take to quit our current gigs (not much) and what we would do with our riches; buy islands, move to places without taxes (very few) and of course avoiding all the leeches and family members that would want a cut.

The conversation wrapped, we went on about the rest of the day but my mind, my mind drifted to millionaire me and I gotta tell you, millionaire me is kind of boring. Millionaire me, would do shit like pay off my mortgage (something to always have), pay off my debt, help my sisters and mom (notice how very specific I am) and bounce! I would find myself in a Havana like location sipping mojitos, focusing on writing the next great American novel but do I need millions to do that?

Not all Girlz. Don't wait. I obviously didn't win because I'm at work right now but most of the things millionaire me wanted to do, I can do. And honestly for the most part many of my co-workers were boring millionaires too. The first thing on every one's list is quiting ones job but the way in which those I was talking too and I would quit, involved a lot of making the overseers realize just how much they needed-need- us. Being able to get the balls to say the things we know are right not rude -maybe a little rude- but right. Meaning millions would give us the nerve to stand up for ourselves and I don't mean to be facetious about it but why can't we(I) say these things? Because we know, no one is listening, no one cares, at least we have jobs right but if that's the case, why allow the wrong to upset us, make us drink, drive us to the hospital or worse? -I'm not exaggerating on any of those accounts-

Millionaire me would be unemployed and then I'd pay some bills?! Really but yeah really, this is what I would do and once that debt is paid, I'd go out there and spend more money. Millionaire N.a.G does want to travel the world, see the pyramids, kiss a french man underneath the Eiffel tower, luxuriate in the black sands of Hawaii but if I pace myself, I can go to all those places, in this lifetime, God willing and hopefully my pilot doesn't watch too much CNN and lose it mid flight -check the news-.

I would donate to Charity, I would buy a few extra things, like buy a MAC store, the make-up and the computers. I'd most likely pay people to pay attention to my money but I'd never stop paying attention to those people.

Here's the thing the older I get, the more I pay attention to this world that I don't want to, I realize that as cliche as it may sound, as many times as I hear it, say it, the truth is, the only one stopping me(you) is me (you). And if I keep waiting for millions to change my situation, the less my situation will change. i'm playing again tonight for good measure and a few millions in my bank account wouldn't hurt but don't let the lack of millions make you think any less of yourself and your potentials.

Not all Girlz. Don't Sacrifice.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 14:00:00 +0000

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In what I do there's a rule of three's, the rule states if I'm going to list something it's best that I list in threes; hot, on point and in charge, shit like that. -Nothing is coincidence in television- but before I ever learned about the official rule of three's, I've been following the rule of threes in life and before you get all excited, my rule of threes is kind of crazy-as is everything with me-.

Not all Girlz. Don't sacrifice. That title alone should scare you and after I tell you this, I might as well shut the blog down because there will be no more secrets between us, I'm so serious. I live by a rule of three, I will sacrifice (I have no idea who and what I'm making this sacrifice to) one aspect of my life for the exchange that two others are in good shape. Meaning, if my love life and Job life are going well, my state of finances get the ax. If my money situation and my job situation are right I don't mind not getting laid -ain't this shit crazy y'all!?-

For thirty years, okay more like twenty five, this has been my modus operandi and I thought it was ok until, until the other day. I had one of those days (it's been weeks) where I'm upset or better said, sad but I couldn't put my finger on why. I quickly did a mental check of my three aspects; love, check. money, never enough but I got some, work, no comment but at least I got a job (I can't wait until it's okay to stop saying that shit. fuck you recession) but I'm not dancing in the street -you should always be dancing in the streets-.

I spent days just racking my brain, do I need to travel? I know I need to travel. do I need to feng shui my apartment? I'm already feng shui-ing the shit out of it or maybe, just maybe what I'm feeling is part of a forth that doesn't fall into my threes but when and why did I decide it was ok to limit my life to threes?

There's something about being all the way happy that feels wrong for me. Too many smiles and I wait for the heartache, too much money and I wait for the debt, it's like waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I love my shoes way too much so I just sacrificed life aspects -I need to get my life in check-.

I think there's a forth, a fifth, maybe even a sixth (I think the sixth one is what's making me sad) aspect to my life, that I discovered just last week -I'm turning into Cybil out this bitch- and I've been limiting myself to three? I've been sacrificing way more to the Gods of unhappiness than I thought and I shouldn't, no one should have to pay or sacrifice for being happy. I imagine I'm the only person in this entire world -I think something else in this Universe thinks like me- that does this shit but luckily for the world I'm not anymore because it makes no sense. When being happy feels so good, it feels like your stealing something, I think you should continue stealing it and not worry about getting caught, it feels good to steal some shit for once and I ain't sacrificing shit, I may put a little more happiness in the change jar of life (my fifth aspect is corniness) but I'm keeping my shoes, my health, my job, my love and my smile.

Not all Girlz. Ask.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Mon, 05 Mar 2012 15:00:00 +0000

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Per the usual I checked in on the blog today. I check in to see what has jumped up on the top viewed list, what you girls are taking a second look at. It's a quick unscientific survey that many (none of you until now) of you aren't aware that you're part of (facebook is doing way worst so calm down). This morning instead of learning something about what you've been rolling around in your mind (there are folks out there trying to make the pieces fit) I ended up face to face with a wish come true.

I've always wanted to have a dream board but then again my ego won't let me. How'd you look putting up stupid pictures on a board? My ego can be so not fun sometimes. When I really want something, like really want something, I just buy it. Many of you laugh but in all honesty most of the things I felt I needed in life I figured if I couldn't acquire it for myself, it wasn't meant for me to have. Of course you can't buy a job but I can work long ass hours, not get recognized for my effort in the hopes that it pays off. Meaning up until this moment, I didn't need or I didn't think I needed someone/thing else's help.

My ego's disbelief and embarrassment about the dream boards is the same ego that keeps me away from any event, that might force me to express emotion. The same ego that rather be seen as mean than weak but this morning thanks to one of my newly top five blog post my ego was dealt a blow.

Not all Girlz. Ask. The blog post was Not all Girlz. Look. When I saw the blog post in my top five I thought I'd click it, to refresh my memory or maybe spark something new and as I read the first two paragraphs, the hairs on my arms stood up straight (yep you're going to have to do the homework). The things I mentioned in those two paragraphs are my life, there's the boo, there's the braids and there's new paint and a new shower head, the redecoration is happening. *cue the testimonials*

Is it? could it really be that easy? Is a blog the new dream board for folks with stubborn egos? Maybe one day we can get into the details of how I met my boo ( I highly doubt it) but let's just say the night that we met, not because of him and without him in mind, I sat down and wrote one of the most personal and honest journal entries ever, kind of a letter to the forces that make things happen. In this letter I left nothing out, from the way he laughed to the relationship he had with his mother to my being ready for something amazing. I didn't know who I was asking but the events of that night (not at all good) broke me down enough that I scoffed at my ego and asked. I realized that I alone can't get everything, I need some help. And that help wasn't money, it wasn't a good connection, to be honest I didn't know what kind of help I needed and where I'd get it from but I was so over it that I asked.

I woke up this morning in a surly mood. I didn't want to do anything (go to work), I dragged myself out of bed asking, not for anything significant but stupid shit, can I duck speaking to any of my co-workers until 6pm (I'm PMSing) and then I read those two paragraphs and it hit me, someones listening.

Now that I know someones listening, I'm saving my wishes, I'm not going to be the idiot that ask the genie to prove he can grant wishes only to learn I lost a good wish asking for proof.

Be careful what you wish for ladies ...seriously! I have paint all over my damn hardwood floors;-)

Not all Girlz. Weekly Musings.

noreply@blogger.com (#1 N.a.G) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 15:00:00 +0000

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Last week I called my mom to say happy birthday, when she hit me with a surprise; I'm getting married next year! No, nobody proposed and no, I don't anticipate a proposal anytime soon but unknown to me, my mom got it all worked out. As we talked about where and when we'd go on the search for my younger sisters wedding dress, she says "we don't have much time to plan everything. Next year hopefully with yours we'll have a little more time..."

Inner Monologue:
With mine?
Did she lose her mind?
Is she mistaking us for each other again? -even though they both have D names and I have a K!

Actual conversation:
Mom: Hello...you need to stop playing these games...you not a baby anymore (Haitian accent heavy)
Me: Games? I'm not playing games? who am I marrying? are you crazy?

You have to understand I'm Haitian (pulls flag out of pocket and waves) you just don't say certain things to your parents, doesn't matter if you're a hundred or five you just don't ask your parents "are you crazy?".

N.a.G looking at phone:
Mom: I'm not crazy! you not young any more! (she reminds of this every chance she gets- welcome to a N.a.G diary)

I made a joke (bwhahahaha) told her I loved her and got off the phone as quickly as possible and called my older sister. My older sister picked up saying "I heard" yes my mom had already called her to complain about my pre-runaway bride syndrome and calling her crazy didn't fly too well either.

But was I wrong? Is she not crazy? I only told her about him recently, as recent as December and after asking whether or not he was the type that would kill me in my apt? (she really asked me that) she moved on to another topic and never brought him up again. I thought she was giving me space but my sister let me know she was investigating, who? what? where? and where's his people are from? (this is big with Haitians) behind my back (she never asked me though). And of course I found out first hand, she was planning a wedding, a wedding having never laid eyes on or heard the voice of the proposed groom.

At first I was upset but after a long conversation with my sister I couldn't be more elated, I've managed to do what, what most of you wish you could, beat your parents down so that they don't vet your partners! (she thinks I'm headed to feline aficionado lane-fancy word for cat lady-)

I gave my mother a very brief description of this guy, she doesn't even have a name. I said something like, he's like Barack Obama (that's a sure fire winner) but I think it wouldn't matter if I had said he was similar to Charles Manson, the thought of this guy seems to have re-hydrated my eggs in my mothers eyes but more importantly kept the kitty litter away. (Too much?)

Not all Girlz. Vet for Self...sometimes. I'm sure should this guy propose (wholly shit did I just type that) before my mom gives him a cow to make an honest woman of me, he's going to be welcomed with the brightest of smiles and most welcoming of arms and you'd think I'd be happy with that but I'm not. This leaves all the vetting to me, I have to be mom, dad, uncle and all that shit while being lover. When this guy meets my mom, I have to pray she doesn't try to sell me too hard, hope my mom goes for the soft sell (she totally won't).

I can take this as an insult for she hasn't made it easy on either of my sisters guys to make it to the alter, while my guy(s) have been let off the hook easy, in all honesty she's only met one, after I thought it would be funny to insinuate at a young age that I was gay (NOT FUNNY) so at this point my mom is willing to give me away to a faux Barack Obama with no name.

Next time you're sitting across from your family praying they don't embarrass you, be happy they're not giving you away... I think ... I still don't know how I'm suppose to feel about this...I'm so glad we don't own cows...