Me and My New Homegirl, Vivian...

Vivian! When we entered Nifty Fifties tonight, I was sure it would be another tasty night, catching up on this week’s happenings with my good-good friend Steve. I knew we would talk, eat spicy cheese fries and bacon cheese burgers, Steve with raw onions, I would have them fried. I expected nothing spectacular…

Oh, but Vivian, you were a breath of fresh pork-beef-lard tainted air! Your quirkiness was nothing short of a Curb Your Enthusiasm guest appearance. You were so goofy and awkward—which to me equals awesome.

I don’t know which was awesome-er: the time I requested malt for my fries and you brought me a cup filled to the brim with powdered malt intended for a root beer float. Or perhaps, it was how you eagerly came over to make sure we were still enjoying our food just the same, as if it would somehow loose it’s appeal after the third, fifth, or twenty-fifth bite. In the end, I think it was the way you continued to add to the intimacy of our encounter by ending each sentence without words, or even a whisper, just wrapping your lips around phrases in hopes that we know how to read lips as well as any hearing impaired patron. It was like we were best friends tonight, the three of us.

Vivian, you are the best!

To anyone reading this: if you’re eating @ the Nifty’s on Street Rd., in Bensalem, PA. and you don’t tip my friend Vivian—you’ll have to answer to Mz.Soul. Holla!

Hoodrats vary in catagories, they come in all shape, sizes and colors. They are employed or unemployed. They can be stylish or unkempt…

Now, I said all that to say this: Why is that no matter how gawd awful  females and their attitudes are, hoodrats are so appealing? I’m sure there’s someone out there shaking they’re head “Oh, no! I surely wouldn’t fall for a hoodrat chick!” But I know much better. No one wants to admit it, but as a old friend of mine once said, “good girls get walked on, and bitches get respect”. And this is true.

Hoodrats are nothing new. I’m sure there was a slave name Bonisha Afini picking cotton with her ass in someone else’s mans face. Not even offering her children a sugar tit, even when it was available, keeping it for herself (btw: a sugar tit was like a pacifyier for hungry slave children. it was a small cube of raw sugar wrapped in cheesecloth. mother’s who were breastfeeding would give them to their children when their breast was reserved for massa’s seed). There were hoodrats even in the bible (Delilah). You see them on the bus, tell their children to shut up, because they’re on their cell phones…

What is it about a woman with no class that demands devotion? Do you like hood rats over a classy, educated woman? If so, what is it about a trashy woman that you adore so much? Do you know a hoodrat, if so tell me your best hoodrat encounter.

See--told you they come in an assortment...

And finally, any man that would make a fool of themselves for this man...

This song was on an album that was released the day before Valentine’s Day, ’96. I was 15 and my boyfriend (yes, I had a boyfriend) took me to The Olive Garden, gave me roses a teddy bear and The Score. I still listen to this diss to biters everyday. And Lauryn Hill’s shout out to ign’ant nig**s still gives me goosebumps….damn!

Zealots

[CLEF]

Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
O lord, father don’t let him bury me, whoa

[CLEF]

I haunt MC’s like Mephistopheles
Bringin swords and Damocles
Secret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy
Abstract raps simple with a street format
Gaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax.
Check out the retrograde motion; kill the notion
of biting and recycling and calling it your own creation.
I Feel like Rockwell, “Somebody’s watching me”
I got no privacy whether on land or at sea.
And for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonic
Hypocrite, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit.
It hurts don’t it, the refugees come to your turf and take over
the earth.

[LAURYN]:INTERLUDE

See my rhymes are the type of fly rhymes
that can only get down with my crew
And if you try to take lines or bite rhymes
we’ll show you how the refugees do.

[LAURYN]

Behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymes
Two MC’s can’t occupy the same space at the same time.
It’s against the laws of Physics.
So weep as your sweet dreams break up like Eurythmics
Rap rejects my tape deck, ejects projectile
Whether Jew or gentile
I rank top percentile,
Many styles,
More powerful than gamma rays
My grammar pays,
Like Carlos Santana plays
Black Magic Woman
So while you fuming, I’m consuming
Mango juice under Polaris,
You’re just embarrassed
Cause it’s your “Last Tango in Paris”
And even after all my logic and my theory,
I add a muthafuckker so you ignint niggas hear me.
And you remember take notes,
as I sow my rap oats
and for you biting zealots, here’s a quote.

[CLEF]:(Chorus)

Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
O lord, father don’t let him bury me, whoa

[CLEF]

You can try but you can’t divide the tri
These cats can’t rap, Mr. Author I feel no Vibe
The magazine says the girl should have went solo,
The guys should stop rapping, vanish like Menudo.
Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his part
As long as someone was listening, I knew it was a start,
For me to get a chance, grab my pen and revamp
Do a cameo while everybody do the dance.
Quick now, cause you runnin’ out of lucka
Playin’ Mr. Big, I’m gonna get you sucka.
While you munchin at your luncheon, I’ll be planning your
assassination
Then hit you like the Dutchmen

[PRAZ]

I compress sound sets with my rap DBX
Then drop vocals on my 456 AMPEX
Bring terror to the shop of horror,
As she cries “Mi amor”
The phantom dies in the opera
And to the youngin’s who carry gadgets
And kill 6 days a week then rest on the Sabbath.
Violence ain’t necessary, unless you provoke me
then get buried like the great Mussolini
and for you bitin’ Zealots
Your rap styles are relics
No matter who you damage
you’re still a false prophet.

[CLEF]:(Chorus)

Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
O lord, father don’t let him bury me, whoa

I’m what one might call a good girl. Not perfect. I’m spoiled. As Beyonce says, “When I need attention, I tend to nag.”  I can be frivolous with money. And I get horrid PMS…but I love hard and well. I spent my entire adult trying to perfect the love that I give. I am emotionally needy, but only because I have to replenish all that I give…

I hadn’t talked to a friend in the past few months. We live miles away, but she was my shoulder to lean on during my last (lack of) relationship. She was the one person I felt comfortable with enough to cry over someone so unworthy. She is a friend. When talked the other night and she told me that her mate had been unfaithful (too). Just like every female in my love life, her partner found it easier to get in someone else’s bed than to deal…I have no doubt that he loves her. But I know that love isn’t everything…

My friend is a dedicated mother. She has a son with special needs and twins—need I say more? Most of our conversations are about her children, husband and how she is giving them all. She is a beautiful person, shit, if she was a lesbian…I haven’t heard her complain, but I haven’t heard her talk about getting pampered or taking time out for herself, either.

She is a woman. And like most of us, she does what she feels she’s supposed to do, so there is no need to complain. You don’t get a medal for that, right? Whatever!!!

Beyonce and Ciarra are singing songs about being boys. Jazmine Sullivan is breaking windows out of cars…Song or no song, Karma is a bitch. If you are a cheater, or someone who takes wonderful beautiful things for granted—why? What is the point? Is it the high of risking what’s precious, or is it narcissism and feeling that you are the center of the universe and not caring about how bad it will hurt your lover? Why don’t cheaters fall for cheaters and leave the faithful people to themselves?

Let me know…

The 7 Signs of Cheating:

Perhaps the most heartbreaking feeling in the world is when you suspect your mate is cheating on you. You can easily become overwhelmed by feelings of betrayal and lack of trust.

But if you have suspicions about your mate’s faithfulness, it’s important to keep your head. After all, you could be completely wrong. Before you start making accusations, you should try to gather whatever evidence you can. Start by looking for these tell-tale signs he is cheating:

1. Your woman’s intuition tells you something is wrong…Feeling lonely when they’re around is the best way to describe it…

2. They tell you one thing and you find out another–they say they are going out with Keisha and them, but you see Keisha and them at the mall… 

3. Lack of intimacy. You talk less and rarely spend time alone together. You get the feeling that you’re just not connecting anymore…Hello, anyone home???

4. Lack of sex…I’m tired…Yeah, ok…

5. They stop including you in things that used to be things that you do together…All of a sudden, they want to go to the market alone…

6. Being Secretive about things that they say are insignificant…Damn, baby, it’s not that deep… 

7. You notice a strange number in his cell phone and he denies or lies about who it is. A friend who only has initials…

thanks!

Mos could be facing up to 15 years for charges from robbery to destruction of property…

Mr. Camera sound like a bitchass if you ask me. Cuts on your hand? C’mon…SISSY!!!

Apparently, Umi says knock you out, too!

Last night, when I got home from work, I sat on the toilet (damn, that was T.M.I.). I sat thinking, “damn, another night alone.” See, this is my first time being alone. I mean, totally alone. Not in the spiritual sense. But for the first time in my adult life, there is no sex buddy, no booty call, no friend that I call for company, no potentials, no prototype. Shit, I don’t even have a roommate. Just me and my cat Ameerah (who by the way sat in her litter as I sat on mine). As I sulked, I reached over and picked up Eckhart Tolle’s ‘A New Earth’. I opened to the title page and there I’d written this: “what is relationship with the present moment???”

When I wrote that, I was going through hell and high water with my ex. I realized, sitting there last night, that when I was with her, I was more lonely than I am presently as a single woman. I realized that I didnt even have my self.

Tonight, it’s just me and Ameerah again. But I realize that I am not as single as I thought I was. I am in relationship with the present moment. And she is good to me. She gives me peace, love and security. And I love her back.

Still living in the past? Try the present moment. If it weren’t for her, the past would be the right here, right now, and if your past is anything like mine–you should be grateful. She is waiting for you to see her beauty, and to embrace all that she is offering you…Don’t take her for granted, for once she is gone, you can never get her back.

Peace (or at least quiet)—

Mz.Soul

All is fair in love
Love’s a crazy game
Two people vow to stay
In love as one they say
But all is changed with time
The future none can see
The road you leave behind
Ahead lies mystery
But all is fair in love
I had to go away
A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair

All of fate’s a chance
It’s either good or bad
I tossed my coin to say
In love with me you’d stay
But all in war is so cold
You either win or lose
When all is put away
The losing side I’ll play
But all is fair in love
I should have never left your side
A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair

A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair

—Stevie Wonder, Innervisions, 1979

Normally, I’m a tequila drinker all the way (1800 if I’m ballin’, but Cuervo will me right, too). I resigned from 151 when I started working full-time, lol.  I was feeling like a lady, you know, didn’t want anyone to see me take it too the head, yet. So, I ordered a Sunrise, which turned out to taste indescribably cheap (bartender must have gone bottom shelf on me).

As I pretended to nurse my overpriced drink, I scanned each shelf trying to figure out what could get me where I wanted to be my budget. I spotted Diddy’s Ciroc vodka. Usually, I stay away from vodka, because I think it tastes like rubbing alcohol. However, he does so much ranting about how smoooth it is, I figured I’d try a lil’ bit (I know, mixing darks and lights is a no-no)…

Anyway, Ciroc is the bomb (yes, I still say that)! Not never have I tasted ANY liquor that went down that smooth. There was no burn (my chest hairs did not need a perm, yall)! After, 6 or 7 shots, I was still going strong, even if my pockets weren’t…

take it from a true lush: ciroc gets 5 out 5 stars!

CÎROC FROSTY GRAPE-TINI
2 oz Cîroc Snap Frost Vodka
1/2 oz Grand Marnier
1/2 oz Red Grape Juice
Splash of Blue Curaçao
Prepare rim of glass with purple grape sugar. Shake with crushed ice. Strain into cocktail glass.