Back to School Shopping September 1, 2008

See that mannequin on the left, all hunched over and worn out? That’s me, how I felt after a day of shopping with my 15-year-old niece, “Neecee.”

On this Labor Day, my mother, Neecee and I hit the mall for a little Back-to-School retail exercise. We took her to shops that were age appropriate, filled with teenage girls with moms and young-looking college women. What I realized as I browsed from store to store, was that everything Neecee picked up was either too tight, too short or too expensive. That’s what they make for girls her age.

And granted Neecee’s not a big girl by any means. She probably wears a solid size 5, however with the way the clothes fit, she needed a 9 to have enough room to grow into. The new trend now, I suppose, is “skinny.” Skinny jeans, skinny tops…blah blah blah. And with my niece being as endowed as her beautiful older aunt, she doesn’t need any skinny top that clings to her in all the wrong places.

Like she wanted a high-wasted pencil skirt; it was what she was dying for. We finally found one in the store Forever 21, which should be called forever 5 cause that’s the only size they fit. And they have this weird size system, where a size 27 would be a size 7 and a size 29 would be a 10 (or some variation thereof). It was hard to get a straight answer from any of the clerks, who kind of looked at me like why is this big girl even in this store.

Anyway, Neecee finds a “29″ and proceeds to head in the longest dressing room line I’ve seen. You’d think they were handing out food stamps the way they were clamored together. When Neecee finally gets a room and tries it on, it’s a little tight. Not in a bad way, like if she breathed a button would pop you in the eye kind of way, but like if she washed it one too many times, she wouldn’t get in it – ever again.

And of course, one of the lovely ladies (plus one gay dude; there’s always one, ain’t it?) of Forever 21 told me there was no size 30 (and proceeded to give me the mean eye like why did I even ask). We did end up getting it, though, because it was so darn cute.

I guess this is what young girls have to contend with nowdays. Nothing ever fits with room to spare, and the clothing lasts far shorter than what it used. But Neecee came away with some good stuff, with the money she was alotted, and she will be cute for her first week of classes.

Which is all she really cared about anyway.

Diary of a Mad Black Lesbian: Perception is Everything August 26, 2008

I’ve been told I don’t look gay, whatever that means. As a matter of fact, one woman’s exact words — and mind you this is from a girl I was crushing on at the time — were, “I just can’t see you being gay.”

Maybe it’s because I dress a tad bit on the conservative side. Maybe it’s because of my petite stature, standing at around five feet tall. Or maybe it’s because I look young for age, as I’ve been told many a time (I was carded for lottery tickets a couple weeks ago; I’m 30.

But the gist is that, apparently, I’m straight-looking. To some, I don’t look like I have girlfriends or could kiss a woman, among other things. It used to bother me back in the day, especially when I was single and looking. Whereas my former roommate could simply walk on campus and meet several new female friends at the drop of a hat, I was stuck with the perception that I just needed “a good man in my life.”

It also made it harder for my mother when I came out to her. In her head, she had seen me wear dresses and makeup (unlike my older sister) and have boyfriends. In her view of me, my mother could never imagine me as a lesbian. To this day, she still utters, “I just can’t believe it.”

It’s that age old debate lesbians have about which role has an easier time coming out - femmes or studs/butches. Lebron would argue that it’s better to come out as a femme because afterward, a feminine women can blend bend in society — and at least your parents hold on to the dream of you having kids. This is where I disagree, because as a stud there are no misconceptions about (usually) your role. Growing up tomboyish or even flamboyantly can almost always be detected at an earlier age. Haven’t you ever seen a boy who seems a little bit too interested in dolls, instead of Tonka trucks at age 5? Let me just say that it doesn’t guarantee he’s gay, but chances are likely. And in growing up stud, the idea of being gay is always in the back of someone’s mind. Nobody blinks when they say, “Hey, Mom and Dad. I’m gay.”

“Okay, pass the peas.”

Like I said, perception is everything.

I can’t say that being straight looking is a bad thing. Most people at work don’t know about me, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. Because the things they say to me about gay folks would make them feel like assholes if they knew about my sexuality. Like the co-worker who once said to me, “If I had a friend who was gay, I would drop them.” She was serious, yet this is the same one who will tell me all her business — about how many men she’s currently juggling — but can’t understand how being gay isn’t a perversity.

And I hear these lovely tidbits only because I don’t look gay. Cause like I said, perception is everything.

TGIF: Fire, Lesbian Daughters and Gymnasts…Oh My! August 16, 2008

Another Friday, yet again. Not much has been going on with me. Just a few interesting incidents here and there.

Like almost setting my house on fire. I had what could have been a potentially catastrophic event. Let’s just put it this way: I don’t like fire. Have a phobia about it. I’m truly scared when I see orange flames rising. I always have been. So when I smelled the smoke and then saw the fire, I was freaking out. Luckily Lebron was there to literally put the fire out — but she had to listen to my shrieks of panic for at least 10 minutes while she wielded the fire extinguisher at the oven. Lesson no. 1, kids: always check the oven before you turn it on. Fortunately damages were minimal — unless you count our ashes and soot we got all over us. I still can’t get some of it out of my fingernails.

Other than, it’s been a pretty slow week. I’ve been reading Now It’s My Turn, the book by Mary Cheney, daughter of vice-president Dick Cheney. No, I’m not a Republican, nor do I endorrse Bush or Cheney in any form or fashion. But considering she’s the lesbian daughter of a high political official, I thought I’d be interesting to read her point of view. I was half right. It was informative to hear Mary’s trials as Dick’s right-hand girl on both his campaigns, albeit a little dry. I thought I would get more details about her personal life, as far as being a lesbian, but it doesn’t go into too many personal details. What a pity. It should have been more about her own opinions about gay issues, especially Bush’s opposition to gay marriage, but she doesn’t offer much more than observations. I was disappointed.

Speaking of political, I’ve been somewhat watching the Olympics, mostly what doesn’t bore me to tears (badminton, anyone). I prefer to watch synchronized swimming and gymnastics. That’s my favorite, especially when the women perform. I love how flexible and graceful their bodies can become. The athleticism of these women is amazing. It takes me back to my high school cheerleading days, when I performed similar feats (not nearly on their level). Sometimes I wished I had taken up gymnastics when I was a girl, but instead I chose ballet. Not that I regret it; I love to dance (and still do). Yet who knows where gymnastics could have taken me?

That’s it for today. Until next Friday…

It’s All Gravy, Baby August 13, 2008

 

In the spring, I was in the spell to join a gym - yet again. I decided that I needed to get in shape for the summer, and my sister, thanks to Weight Watchers and her trusty treadmill, had already lost about 40 pounds and was determined to get me in shape, too.

I knew I had to do something, cause as much as Lebron loves my curves, our domestic life had packed on quite a few more curves I didn’t want. Yes, it’s all gravy when you and the ms. first move in together, but then it becomes gravy and mashed potatoes and fried pork chops eventually, and never even knew what hit you. I knew I had gained a little weight, and it didn’t help when, after my weigh-in at my annual physical, I saw the proof. Luckily for me, the doctor told me I was in good shape – cholesterol and sugar fine, blood pressure good. It was a relief, but I knew my doctor wasn’t exactly proud of the extra poundage either.

However, considering I’d been heavy at the last annual physical, it was something he already knew I knew – it didn’t need to be said.

With my sister’s insistence and my own go-get it attitude about having the body I wanted, I joined a gym. This was after visiting another gym, a co-ed one, and having to deal with the probing questions of the manager. A man. One who asked questions like, “So why do you want to join a gym?” and “What’s your motivation?“

Once he found out I had had a membership with his establishment before, he was all on me like white on rice. “So you joined a gym then, but you don’t go to one now. What makes you think you can keep motivated now unlike before?” he sneered. Personally, I didn’t like what he was insinuating, but I tried to keep an even tone as I gave him my answer, because I knew the reason I was there. To lose weight – and with his snotty attitude, he was giving me all the ammunition.

However, my sister and I decided on another gym, one that has women-only membership. Hey, you know that works for me on so many levels: never having to see men at while I work out, being in womanly atmosphere, seeing a lot (and I mean, a lot) of ladies I knew. And it didn’t hurt to have the fine physiques of the female specimen around.

The first couple weeks of gym membership are great. Usually, it’s the time when you tend to go the most, because you are so geeked about seeing results. That first week, I went about three times, taking different classes and seeing which one fit me. I loved Zumba, especially when I get to roll my hips and shake my carungas. That’s fun, exercising without making it feel like exercising. The kickboxing is okay, and get me pretty sore afterward.

Since joining, I will admit, I have slacked off a bit. There was a time when I was a little less geeked, and a little more lazy than I liked. I’ve fixed that attitude, and conceded the only way to get the weight off and lessen the soreness is to keep going, whether I like it or not. Besides, I am paying for this exercise torture once a month, so I better put it to good use.

Not to mention my sister looks great. That’s motivation enough for me.

TGIF: Friday Ramblings August 1, 2008

Today is yet another lazy Friday, and I ‘m glad.

It’s the kind of day I love where right on the cusp of the weekend, when there’s so much high hopes about to spend your two days of freedom. I usually wake up with a pep in my step, getting up at 7 a.m. (okay, maybe I hit the alarm until 7:15, 7:20 the latest) to be to work by 8. I may stop by an eatery, preferably Chik-fil-A. Oh, how I love their Chick-n-Minis; it’s like a little piece of heaven on a sweet bun. Lovely. 

At work on a Friday, it’s the time when people seem to chill out, and the telephones slow down. I can usually get a lot of reading done, and today was no exception. I was engrossed in The Rainbow Cedar by Gerri Hill. It’s the story of two lovers who find themselves completely attracted to each other, but because of their commitments, they can never quite hook up. Jay has been with her girlfriend for 8 years, and Drew doesn’t want to ruin Jay’s relationship. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but I won’t give away the plot. It’s really just a simple love story – and I love romance stories. Not cheesy ones, like the Gerri Harlequin romance, bodice-ripping epics I used to read as a teenager. (When I look back, how could I have read such crap?). The Rainbow Cedar is different, and I’m so psyched to see how it ends. Of course I know they’ll eventually come together. I’m getting excited to see how it unfolds.

Speaking of unfolding, it is kind of interesting to see Miss Lindsay Lohan cavorting with the likes of Samantha Ronson. Nobody has really made any kind of fuss or even blinked an eye about the happy couple, other than Los Angeles police chief William Bratton, who remarked that since “Lindsay Lohan has gone gay, we don’t seem to have much of an issue” with paparazzi. Those remarks reek of a homophobia. I don’t see where it’s anybody’s business but Lindsay and Sam. Personally, I think they make a cute couple, what with Lindsay all young Hollywood glam, and Sam dressed in her best L.A. DJ gear, which apparently is ratty T-shirts, skinny jeans and a black fedora. I wish them the best, because it does seem like Lindsay has calmed down a lot. Maybe Samantha is the kind of person she needs in her life. Based on the one episode I’ve seen of Living Lohan, it’s probably better she stay with the record-spinning Sam. I wonder if it’ll become a trend in Hollywood, not like it hasn’t before.

I’ve kind of become addicted to reality shows myself. I mean, it’s too easy to get caught up in the drama of someone else’s life, even if it’s for 30-minutes of entertainment. My indulgences are Big Brother 10, and all the back-stabbing cattiness of Keesha (yes, a white girl!), Libra and Jessie. Ugh, I wish they would send arrogant-ass Jesse home. Then I set my sights on Brooke Knows Best. Cheesy, yes, I know, but that’s why they call it a guilty pleasure. Even though she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, Brooke seems like the most sane of the Hogan clan. Then it’s time for Tori & Dean: Home Sweet Hollywood, which I luv, luv, luv. I like Tori Spelling, especially since I’m a big 90210 fan. Tori’s not as ditzy or boring as I thought, and her show really surprised me. She’s actually very funny and down-to-earth. I happen to think her and Dean make a fabulous couple, although the fact they left their spouses to be with one another is a little devious. I just hope they last; somehow I’m sure they will.

Well that’s all folks…till next Friday!

I Kissed a Girl… July 24, 2008

It’s hard not to like Katy Perry’s I Kissed a Girl, her ode to bi-curious experimentation. A monster summer hit, It’s catchy, it’s flirty, it’s girl-on-girl action. And who doesn’t love that? I find it hard not to sing along to the chorus, reminiscing about my own lip-locks from past.

Cause one thing Katy doesn’t do is give the kiss of a woman justice. It’s more than a cherry-chapped-sticked wet dream of a young girl’s fantasy, at least for me. It’s the feeling of soft lips on yours, a warm and inviting mouth, while touching the supple curves of her body. It’s also how I found the passion I’d been searching for all my life.

When I first decided to jump into the lesbian dating pool, I did what most women-seeking-women do: place a online personals ad. Yahoo! personals was the place to be then (especially since it was free in those days). I got a few responses, most not worth my time; lest I forget the girl I met who wanted to me to come back to her place, even though she had a live-in girlfriend.

Yet in those ghastly responses came the one from “Daisy,” a woman whom I seemed to have so much in common with. Both us intelligent, goofy girls with sensitive, no-nonsense attitudes, our first time exploring our lesbian desires. We clicked from the start, and spent most every night getting to know each other better.

After a while, Daisy and I decided our first date would be a movie. This was, of course, dependent upon if we liked what we saw once we met. (Pictures can be deceiving.) I met Daisy at a neutral spot on our campus, waited for her and we both broke out in smiles upon spying each other. (Yeah, she does look like the cutie from the photo! .  Fears relieved, Daisy and I embarked on our date.

Fast forward to later, and Daisy and I are sitting my car, chitchatting and not ready to go home yet. We’re talking. Finally that awkward moment comes when it’s time for the kiss but who makes the first move? Daisy leans in, and at this point, I don’t remember who asked who, but the kiss happens.

My first kiss with a woman.

I feel her full lips on mine, and I think how soft. Our lips part and I think she tastes good. I wrap my arms around her and I want to feel more. All the while in my head, I believe this kiss is it. This is what I had been waiting for. I had never felt this way kissing a man. Daisy’s touch was unbelievable.

Of course we had to stop, or things would have gotten out of hand in my vehicle. Let’s just say the windows were a little foggy. That night I went home dreaming of more kisses like that one — and from that day on I’ve had my fare share (not too much .

Now the kisses are not about experimentation, but for love. Like with Lebron I feel the same tingle, but it’s heightened because of the “in love” factor.

I’m far from curious anymore.

R.I.P. Girlfriends (Sept. 11, 2000- Feb. 11, 2008) February 25, 2008

It’s over.

Eight years of love and fights, boyfriends and husbands, lovers and friends. It’s official from the CW Network that Girlfriends, the longest running show on the channel, has been cancelled – without fanfare and without a proper season finale.

The last show aired Feb. 11, and most didn’t know that it would be. According to the network, to produce a series finale would be “too expensive.”  And Girlfriends isn’t worth this? In the grand tradition of African-American sitcoms without a deserved send-off, such as Half & Half and Living Single, Girlfriends seems to be quietly hushed off the air. It makes no sense.

In honor of their eight hilarious, thought-provoking and sometimes sad years, I’ve compiled a list of eight moments in Girlfriends history I loved:

Toni gets chlamydia: This episode took the cake. It seemed like the first time an African-American show, particularly with an all-woman cast, talked openly about having a STD. The women are very frank about discussing this issue, especially Maya, who responds in her famous catchphrase, “Oh, hell no!” Toni learns she has chlamydia, which she got from a sexual partner who was not her boyfriend, Greg. Toni encourages Greg to get tested, but discovers he doesn’t have it. Very refreshing. (Season 2)

Joan and Toni Fall Out: Too much drama ensues when Joan breaks off her long-time friendship with Toni – more than once. It goes wrong when Joan tells Toni’s boyfriend, Greg, about Toni’s engagement to another man. Then Toni sleeps with Joan’s boyfriend, Sean, for revenge. Joan sees a therapist; Toni barges in on her therapy sessions. It just goes on and on. But they always manage to find a way back to each other (even when you’re not sure why). Their friendship is real because we all have a friend like Toni, as much as we hate to admit it.

Maya writes “Oh Hell Yes”: From a D+ graded class essay, Maya turned her thoughts into a best-selling book, “Oh Hell Yes.” It’s a motivational thought piece filled with her wisdom and ghetto speak that she originally sold in her cousin Ronnie’s hair salon. With Ronnie’s help, Maya eventually gets a major publisher interested in the book and receives a $25,000 advance. It leads to a three-book deal and Maya finally quitting her job to become a full-time writer. (Season 4)

Joan confronts Reesie: In one of the more memorable “serious” episodes, the girls’ college buddy, Reesie shows up. Apparently Joan is shocked that Toni and Lynn are still speaking to her after Reesie steals Joan’s boyfriend, Brian, all those years back. Joan is still bitter and holding on to her grudge, but soon changes her mind once she finds out Brian gave Reesie AIDS. Instead of being mad, Joan realizes she’s lucky because that could have been her. We find out four episodes later that Reesie has died. (Season 3)

Lynn’s wigger sister comes to  town: Lynn’s sister, Tanya, visits to celebrate Lynn’s adoption anniversary. Adopted into an all-white family, she was always considered an outsider. Tanya wanted to make sure Lynn didn’t forget her roots and adopts the black culture herself. The girls are shocked at her black mannerisms – except for Maya. But it all goes to shit when Tanya utters the n-word during a Jay-Z song at Ronnie’s hair salon. You know it’s about to be on when Peaches starts waving his hot comb. (Season 2)

Joan and William..finally: After five seasons, we finally get to see Joan and William as a couple…finally. You’d think it was a good idea, but it was disastrous. They were unaffectionate, awkward, and even more disturbing to watch. Especially the episode they were to finally get it on…and couldn’t. So sad, cause in the words of Toni, “You might as well go lesbian if you can’t make it work with William.” (Season 5)

Maya meets Rev. Al Sharpton: True, true and more true. Maya is greeted by Al Sharpton, who is a client of William – and does everything unprofessional in the book to get him to read her book, “Oh Hell Yes.” After asking him whether he relaxes or has a press-and-curl, Sharpton gives William some advice about putting Maya in check; he says he would never have someone with her behavior stand in the way of his progress. Maya is then put on probation by William. (Season 5)

Lynn falls for Sivad: Lynn, the more “promiscuous” of the foursome, meets a poet who is celibate, and tells him she is also. Of course, he knows she’s lying, but the two continue a relationship anyway. Lynn agrees to Sivad’s lifestyle at first, but it becomes apparent that she can’t handle it when she continuously asks him for nookie. It ends, when, after nine months of not getting any, Lynn finds out exactly what “the thing” is Sivad’s been hiding. (Season 4)

Honorable mention also goes to Toni for never remembering the name of Maya’s son, Jabari (Jumanji, Gymboree, Jujubee, Jabooboo).

I will miss Girlfriends and I only hope it’s going to get the finale it deserves. A clips show is not enough to say goodbye to four friends I truly felt were my own.

If you want to do something to save the show, please sign the petition at http://www.petitionspot.com/petitions/SaveTVseriesGirlfriends.

Like You’ll Never See Me Again February 19, 2008

It’s a brand new year – 2008 to be exact — but already I feel like I’ve been through a lifetime during the first three weeks of ‘08.

Beginning with New Year’s Eve, my significant other and I spent a quiet evening in a hotel suite, reflecting and just enjoying each other’s company. Both of us laughed about the new year’s superstitions our mother’s taught us (hey, we’re southern), like eating greens will bring you good luck, washing will wash someone out your family, etc. Then we prayed together (the PG version) and then got it on (the X-rated flick)!! I think that can pretty much sum up the night.

I was thinking 2008 was beginning off right. Until the night of January 5…

That was the night I was involved in a hit-and-run accident.

I was driving home from a farewell dinner for my sister’s mother-in-law, around 9:30 down a dark highway toward town. As I get about two miles from any gas station or stop light, I see bright lights of a black or dark-colored truck coming closer. He (or she) was driving so fast that I’m worried he’s going to slam into the back of my car. He doesn’t but decides to go around me.

In my mind I’m thinking, Yes, he can go around me cause I definitely don’t want him driving behind me. So relieved, I watch the front cab of his truck go around.

But I don’t see his back. And the rear of his truck, moving at what had to be 60 mph, pushes my car clear off the road. I see myself veering into a pitch-black wooded area. An then I see my car rolling over once, then twice, then three times, with me landing upside down.

I’m still in my seat belt, right side up, trying to figure out how I ended up like this in a matter of seconds. I unbuckle my seat belt, crawl toward the passenger side door, and can’t push it open to save my life. (Funny how we use expressions like that not knowing how true they can become.)

I start to panic, my next thought about trying to get help. I try to locate my cell phone, and after a minute, I grab for it once I see the light of my Bluetooth. I call 911, then my sister. What seems like two seconds later, a sheriff comes up to my car and asks me if I’m okay. I say yes, but I can’t get out.

Minutes later my car is surrounded by a fire truck and ambulance. It takes about five of them to open my car door. Then I’m slid out of the car and given a ride to the nearest hospital.

It all transpired to be a typical night spent on a hospital gurney in crowded hallway, waiting for doctors and ex-rays and paperwork.

Then the sheriff who first saw my turned-over car shows up. He tells me, as a lot of people did that night, that I am lucky to be here. When I rolled over, a pile of brush, and not the nearby pine trees, helped soften my fall.

Alicia Keys’ Like I’ll Never See You Again takes on a whole new meaning every time I hear it.

I could hardly bring myself to write about this, considering some things about the night remain in my mind. Mostly the flipping over again and again…

But I remain blessed beyond measure, cause only it was only the Lord that spared me, and He’s been helping me through the rest.

Finally… December 7, 2007

You know how it is when you search and search to find the perfect outfit or pair of shoes, always coming close to what you want but not quite right? It’s almost like dating guy after guy (or girl), and while you might have a couple things in common, all the traits you like aren’t there?

That’s how I’ve been feeling about my site lately. Trying to find the perfect site theme and layout has been irking me to the hilt, but I’m glad to say I think I’ve settled on the perfect one … at least for right now.

The last couple few weeks have been hectic, to say the least, but I think I’ve got a handle on things. Right before Thanksgiving, I had a health scare with one of my parents that, thank God, has worked itself out. It’s frightening to see your mother or father in a fragile position, especially when you know they’re getting on in age. After a while (hopefully a long while), it’ll come a time when they’ll be relying on me and my siblings. Not something I’m prepared to think about, but hopefully when that day comes I’ll be ready.

My office has been driving me nuts with the all the Christmas activity they got going. Shhh, don’t tell them I secretly love it. Between buying the $10 Secret Santa gift and “donating” $5 toward the boss’ personalized present, and attending our xmas luncheon at a medium-priced steakhouse, I may end spending more at work than for my whole family . Why must Christmas be this high-priced affair for people I only see 8 hours a day?

However, I am excited about how this Christmas is going to work out for me and Lebron. This is our first Christmas we’re getting to spend together, if everything works out as planned. Her family is cool, mine is a little iffy, although everyone thinks their own family is when you’re bringing someone new around them. You want to make that impression for the sake of you and the special person in your life. Mostly, you just want to make it through the holidays with your family name intact. But I think my family’s cool; it’ll just take them some getting use to Lebron.

Speaking of This Christmas, I have fallen somewhat in love with Chris Brown. “Baby” just blew me away singing Otis Redding’s “Try a Little Tenderness.” I didn’t know Chris had that kind of voice in him. He almost made me swoon. I loved the movie, especially when Lisa (Regina King) used the baby oil…

I hope I never have to try that one day on Lebron.

Finally… December 7, 2007

You know how it is when you search and search to find the perfect outfit or pair of shoes, always coming close to what you want but not quite right? It’s almost like dating guy after guy (or girl), and while you might have a couple things in common, all the traits you like aren’t there?

That’s how I’ve been feeling about my site lately. Trying to find the perfect site theme and layout has been irking me to the hilt, but I’m glad to say I think I’ve settled on the perfect one … at least for right now.

The last couple few weeks have been hectic, to say the least, but I think I’ve got a handle on things. Right before Thanksgiving, I had a health scare with one of my parents that, thank God, has worked itself out. It’s frightening to see your mother or father in a fragile position, especially when you know they’re getting on in age. After a while (hopefully a long while), it’ll come a time when they’ll be relying on me and my siblings. Not something I’m prepared to think about, but hopefully when that day comes I’ll be ready.

My office has been driving me nuts with the all the Christmas activity they got going. Shhh, don’t tell them I secretly love it. Between buying the $10 Secret Santa gift and “donating” $5 toward the boss’ personalized present, and attending our xmas luncheon at a medium-priced steakhouse, I may end spending more at work than for my whole family . Why must Christmas be this high-priced affair for people I only see 8 hours a day?

However, I am excited about how this Christmas is going to work out for me and Lebron. This is our first Christmas we’re getting to spend together, if everything works out as planned. Her family is cool, mine is a little iffy, although everyone thinks their own family is when you’re bringing someone new around them. You want to make that impression for the sake of you and the special person in your life. Mostly, you just want to make it through the holidays with your family name intact. But I think my family’s cool; it’ll just take them some getting use to Lebron.

Speaking of This Christmas, I have fallen somewhat in love with Chris Brown. “Baby” just blew me away singing Otis Redding’s “Try a Little Tenderness.” I didn’t know Chris had that kind of voice in him. He almost made me swoon. I loved the movie, especially when Lisa (Regina King) used the baby oil…

I hope I never have to try that one day on Lebron.

Bear With Me November 9, 2007

If you’ve been to deepdiva.com lately, you can see I’ve been through a lot of changes. With the site, I mean. It’s been a bitch trying to find the right layout for me, one that I actually like and make changes to without tearing my hair out.

Since I had to dismantle my site this week, some of the pics are gone and have to be replaced. I’ll get it back in tip top condition by the weekend, with a new post coming soon to catch you up.

So please bear with me.

Diary of a Mad Black Lesbian: Bisexuals Need (Not) Apply October 30, 2007

I don’t know if you’ve been watching the newest reality dating show, A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila, but it’s a hot ass mess.

If you haven’t been watching, this is the show that features Tila Tequila, a bisexual woman trying to find “true love” within a house full of men and women. Or should I say, straight men and lesbians. Of course, to make things more interesting, she doesn’t tell the 16 participants up front; they find out once they’ve been chosen to live in her house for the duration of the show.

So now you have men and women sleeping in the same bed (literally: it’s one big bed) and trying to vie for the attentions of a girl, who, if you ask me, looks like she’s more in it for the jollies instead of finding the one she wants to settle down with.

First of all, who is Tila Tequila? According to Wikipedia, she’s a “model, entertainer, and singer,” although before this show, I had never heard of her. I must admit that she is quite a looker and the body’s not bad. Tila’s personality is fun and playful, although you can tell she has a depth to her. As with most reality shows, like I Love New York 2 and America’s Most Smartest Model, I find it hard to turn away from this crap. It’s addictive.

The thing that gets me about her show is how she has the men and lesbians competing for her love. Why not other bisexual women? As you might have guessed, tensions are high among the contestants and so far, it’s lead to fights, backstabbing and undercover intermingling. Yes, it goes there — but Tila brings it on herself.

Here’s the thing you need to know about lesbians: some of us don’t go for the bisexual shit.

Bisexuals are a no-no. Ask most lesbian women, especially studs, and they’ll tell you they don’t do bisexuals. It’s that way for a couple of several reasons, two of the biggest being:

Confusion: To most lesbians (and the world for that matter), it seems bisexuals are confused. And with the lesbian lifestyle being complicated enough, from coming out to dealing with society at large, who needs someone who appears to be indecisive about which sex they want to sleep with?

Going behind a man: How can I put this without being too graphic? Lesbians don’t want to partake of a meal that’s been tainted by some dude.

I can’t say that I fully agree with bisexuality, but to each her (or his) own. As long as you’re being sexually safe and not hurting anyone, it’s all good. All I know is Tila’s house is just a big ball of sexual disaster waiting to happen. People are getting their emotions involved. The men are getting rowdy, the women are becoming more attached. And all because they want their shot @ love.

But like shots, they may look smooth, but they don’t go down easy. On this show, maybe they do.

This is For My Homies October 26, 2007

It’s another Friday night just chillin’ at my house. My friends have conceded to calling me an old lady, just because I don’t find being up in the club appealing. Right about now my girlfriends are getting out of the shower, scouring their closets for something to wear. I feel kind of glad I don’t have to spend my time doing the club thang, cause I’m getting too old for that shit. Not that I was ever that much into it. Clubs are cool every now and then, but after a while I’m like Loretta Devine from Waiting to Exhale: “Hell, I could be home watching an episode of Good Times.” (Or in my case, an episode of The Hills or Sex and the City). I tend to get bored very easily, especially if it’s a straight scene, and all I do is nurse the same drink all night. Not my idea of a good time. Once you’ve kind of settled down with someone special, there’s no need to carouse for something more. Most of my girlfriends are single, and while it doesn’t mean I can’t go out and have a good time with them, I don’t feel quite as compelled to run the streets as much anymore. Now here’s the part where I pour out my 40 ounce in memory of those days, like DRS in that early 90s jam, “Gangsta Lean.” (Or in my case, I’d pour an Amaretto Sour).

Lebron and I are enjoying a somewhat quiet night. We ordered pizza and watched last night’s episodes of Run’s House and Survivor: China. DVR is the shit. However, finding the time to watch the recorded shows is the hard part. There are still a couple of Top Model episodes I need to see, but haven’t gotten around to watching. I guess it’s all null and void at this point since I caught this week’s perfect disaster. Ebony, Ebony, Ebony…I guess all the criticism got to her, cause she just threw up her hands and left. Poor little daughter of a crackhead, who tried to so hard to prove how tough she was, became homesick. I was rooting for her at first, despite the gluey, ugly ass wig cap she had or the fact that she constantly wore a look as if something stank just crawled up her nose. I like seeing the underdog come up, and I really thought she would. And the sad thing is, if she would have opened herself up, she could have healed herself of some of that anger and pain. Maybe she would have realized her dream and become America’s Next Top Model (okay, who am I kidding; she would have been lucky to make the top 5). Now I’m stuck rooting for my next favorite, Heather. I love that girl. With a walk like a caveman but a heart of gold, she can model her ass off.

In other exciting news, Lebron’s all excited today because her shoes got published on a popular LeBron-based website. The site posts all kind of news about the Cleveland Cavalier forward. With my girlfriend being a die-hard LeBron shoe fanatic (oh God, you do not want to know how many pairs of shoes she has), a picture of her pair of Nike Zoom LeBron 20.5.5 was featured on the site. She’s overjoyed. Shoes are her life. (I almost think she loves them a little more than me). She’s all gushing cause this is big in the shoe community. You can see the two pics here (the black and white pair on the bottom labeled Freakystud21).

Well, it’s getting late and I have laundry to do in the morning. Hope my homies are being safe out there. Alcohol and stilettos don’t mix.

Hoochies @ Work October 9, 2007

We have a new girl in our office. She started on Friday and so far she seems to be fitting in well. Or so I think.

Apparently, a couple of the office staff (read: black females) have taken to calling her a hoochie.

Maybe it’s because she wears a long black weave almost to her midsection. Or it could be that she has obvious light brown contacts in her eyes, framed by fake eyelashes. Yet it could be the fact that she wore a form-fitting, cleavage-bearing top paired with snug dress pants. Or it might have something to do with the fact that she has what one could call a “banging body,” with boobs and booty for days. She was the perfect woman Apple Bottom Jeans were made for.

Of course, me being me, I had no problem with that. (You have read the title of this blog, right?)

But some of the other ladies, well, they took offense to what they deemed her “ghetto attire.”

“I think she’s cute,” I said to them in her defense. Cause she is. Regardless of what she had on, “Homegirl” is pretty, which can be seen in spite of the fakeness adorning her face. I happen to think she’s attractive, but I couldn’t convince my conservative female co-workers otherwise.

“Yeah, she’s cute, but she needs to stop wearing those contacts and take out that tacky weave,” one said.

“She looks a little…,” another said, almost in a whisper, “like a hoochie. She’s looking one step out the club.”

While the new girl wasn’t exactly dressed for success, she didn’t appear to a hoodrat either. Homegirl had on an outfit that would be considered office casual, and though I would have worn something a little more business-like for my first day, I wasn’t down for persecuting her. Our office attire is mostly business casual, and she was dressed like most of us would. It seemed to me there was a little cubicle hating going on, cause the hoochie comments were a little uncalled for.

Damn, the girl had only been on the job an hour.

Today, though, Homegirl was a little more covered up and her long hair was pinned up. She and I had on an almost similar outfit — a casual blouse with black capris — but now the ladies seemed to be convinced that her fuchsia-colored hoops weren’t professional enough.

Why is it that women seem to hate on each other over something so petty, especially if that person is considered to be an outsider? I never understood this logic. These so-called conservative co-workers, the same ones finding fault with Homegirl’s bootylicious appearance, are the same ones who will wear a dress with a plunging neckline leading to their own ample bosom. They also have thick bodies just like Homegirl — if not more so. It’s never been my style to rip on another sister without just cause. What bothered me about their comments was that they hadn’t even taken the time to introduce themselves to Homegirl, but yet could have a whole 20-minute conversation about whether she’s a ghetto bunny one step from the projects.

Putting down another woman, who may appear to be more beautiful or intelligent, doesn’t make me less attractive or less smart.

So their critical words irked me.

Cause when I talked to her, she seems like she has the sweetest spirit.

And that’s just my first impression.

Guess What I Saw Today? October 7, 2007

 

 

Yellow and Red Roses, Candlelight and Wine October 5, 2007

Well, it’s a Friday night and I have the house to myself. Lebron is doing her thing at home, while I sit here surfing and watching the new episode of Degrassi: The Next Generation. Yes, I do know it’s a show about high schoolers, but I can’t help my guilty pleasure. It kind of takes me back to my innocent days, when I was dating boys (ewww!) and denying my true passion. Degrassi also makes me realize that while kids still go through basic ordeals things really have changed. I’m glad to grow up in the time I did. The 1990s are nothing compared to the childhood years of the new millennium.

Speaking of kids, my 2-year-old nephew has a girlfriend. When I went to pick up some papers from my aunt, who runs the daycare he attends, he was his usual rambunctious self — running from place to place like he couldn’t sit down. When he finally did slow down long enough, he went to a cute light-skinned one-year-old named Morgan and hugged her ever so gently. Their heads touched, almost like they were about to plant puppy kisses on each other. I was moved. I wished I had a picture but I could grab my camera phone in time.

This morning, I went to pay my cell phone bill at the T-Mobile store and happened to peep out the new Blackberry Curve. This is my new phone crush. I’m ready to break up with the Pearl and start a new relationship with someone who can really take care of all my needs: a full keyboard, camera, MP3 player and that reliable BB push-through email. I did want the Sidekick, but as someone told me, once you go Blackberry, you never go back. When my contract is up in December, maybe I’ll treat myself to an early Christmas present. Preferably the gold-colored one. *Oooh, pretty*

As I’m winding down tonight, I can say it’s been a lethargic week. Beginning with Monday night, I found myself achy and longing to lie down. I woke up the next morning feeling the same way. With that, it only took a matter of minutes to me to call in to work. Here I am, taking Tylenol Cold and downing a bottle of orange juice, thinking I’m coming down with the flu or something. Later that night I got my diagnosis when my ass was literally hugging the toilet — and it wasn’t nothing nice. (Again, eww…). I later speculated it was given to me from another co-worker…who also gave it to someone else because we all had the same symptoms. Stomach viruses are all the rage, haven’t you heard?

Well it’s time for me to take a nice long bubble bath. I need to unwind. I only wish I had the yellow and red roses bath like in The Best Man to luxuriate in. Candlelight and wine…mmm mmm mmm!!

Smooches!!!

Alicia Keys: Mellifluously Magnificent October 5, 2007

A soulful voice gliding across silky piano melodies layered over a hip-hop beat can best describe the music of Miss Alicia Keys. To describe the woman herself would utilize infinitely more words.

Terms like beautiful, intelligent, poignant…

When I saw her last week on 106 and Park, debuting her new video “No One,” it was like I fell in love all over again. The woman is bad.

Alicia Keys has always had a soft spot with me, and even more so in the lesbian community. We’ve always considered Alicia one of ours, especially when she speaks with that deep, mellifluous voice and rocks them prison braids that bring out the stud in her. You know what I’m talking about. She’s a femme lesbian’s dream. Even when she gets all dolled up like in the picture above.

And I’m so in love with “No One.” Lebron and I feel like this is our song. It defines what we’ve been through and expresses how we feel about each other.

I know some people search the world
To find something like what we have
I know people will try, try to divide something so real
So ’til the end of time I’m telling you there is no one

Her voice just captivates me. You can hear the emotion pouring from her voice.

Damn, she could have it…anytime.

Check On It October 1, 2007

 

 

Every now and then, you have to check yourself.

You have to take stock in your emotions and behavior, and figure out what’s the best way to improve yourself.

That’s where I am at this point in my life, being that I’m about three months away from my 30th birthday. Hell, I’m somewhat excited, but mostly reflective about what I need to do to improve myself. I’m far from perfect, and while I do think my good traits outnumber my worst, I know that I can’t ignore the things I’d like to change.

The main thing I have to check myself about is my diva tendencies, that bitch quality that seems to rear its ugly head. It’s really more about trying to have control, which I sometimes feel I don’t have enough of. Life can be disappointing and people can let you down. As much as I know I can’t regulate the behavior of others, it still manages to make me feel defeated. I realize I’m only one person. So I’m asking myself to chill out. Take time to smell the roses. Don’t worry so much. It’s hard, I must admit.

The other side to my tendencies is the protection aspect. I have to protect myself and my emotions–even if it means being hard. It’s just me. One thing I can say is that I’ve opened myself up more lately. Growing up, I was the type to help others, but when it came to trying to get the same in return, I couldn’t allow myself to do it. I’m an internalizer, a person who would rather not “share” my feelings with others, choosing to deal with it alone. Although better now, I still feel it carrying over now.

Just sharing this with the world took a lot out of me.

Middle of the Night Randomness August 27, 2007

This is gonna be one of those random posts, I can tell, cause it’s 2:25 a.m. — and I’m not sleepy yet.

This is quite unusual for me because usually I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Most times in the middle of my 11 p.m. episode of Sex and the City. By the time Carrie’s contemplating her famous question, I’m answering my call to sleep.

Lebron’s quietly snoring away while I type. Yes, we’re still going strong after almost 11 months. Hasn’t been easy, I tell you. Getting use to living with someone never is, especially since I’ve never done it before. I was always use to visiting one woman or another’s apartment, with she not having to worry about what I look like with the everyday Haines underwear, without the beauty of my matching bra-and-panty sets. Or having to realize that I’m a real woman who takes has to spray air freshener in the bathroom sometimes. Real as it is, it’s me. I can be dramatic and annoying sometimes, that’s simply the Diva in me.

Even a Diva has her moments of imperfections.

Other things I’ve found out since our cohabitation. I make a damn good girlfriend. Hmmm…something I should have known before now, you say. Well, sometimes you don’t. I guess it’s one thing you realize when you feel yourself giving a lot more in relationship than you ever have before. This relationship feels different so I’m giving it more care than I have others. I feel complete, not because of Lebron, but because of how she makes me feel.

Okay enough mushiness.

Like my T-shirt? It’s from a gay bookstore in Atlanta dubbed Brushstrokes, a place me and my good friend frequent whenever I’m in town. Since the clientel is mostly gay men, I’m sure this shirt was meant for a more effeminate man, but I think I look far better in it. Especially with some tight jeans. Yum!

Well, I better get to bed. If not, I’ll be nodding off at work (more than I already do). Toodles.

And next time I won’t make it so long between visits.

Advice My Parents Gave June 3, 2007

Like most teenagers, I didn’t think the advice my parents gave would be my life lessons as I grew older.

My parents, the almost 40-years-married couple who’ve seen each other through some rough times, dispensed some wisdom that was looked at sideways at first.

Mom: “Be careful what you do. You never know who’s watching you.” Paranoia at the time it seemed, but it turned out to be true. Whether on the job or in the streets, I learned to keep my business to myself.

Dad: “See, you don’t have any real friends. In your life, you can count the number of real friends you have on one hand.” Harsh it seemed at a point when all you want to feel is accepted, but that turned out to be true, as well. Especially as I saw the people who I thought were real leave my life and I was left with no answers. The friends I rely on now I can say will be there for me.

Mom: “Always get the person’s name who you talk to.” Unexplainable at the time, my mother was a stickler for writing down the names of telephone representatives, bank associates, etc. Cause she said if there was ever a time when it came down to who said what, you wouldn’t have a name to back it up. Comes in handy when trying to figure out your Sprint phone bill, cause them jokers will lie about anything. (I also get an employee number, too, if necessary.)

Dad: “See y’all think times have changed. Times ain’t changed. One day you gon’ recognize that. These white folks ain’t your friend and ain’t gon’ give you a damn thing.” Growing up on an all-white block, the choices were limited to who I could play with. Yet, I just knew I could count on Shelly and Angie, my two Caucasian sidekicks. That was until I discovered they were having secret slumber parties–that I wasn’t invited to.

Mom: “If don’t tell you nothing else, you better pray. And know the Lord.” At 16 I was just waiting for the chance to be released from going to church on command. And at that age I hadn’t been through anything that tested my faith. Now I recognize that, as hard as it is, you should worry about nothing and pray about everything.

Dad: “Be proud of who you are.” This was spoken on so many subjects and on so many levels. Being Black, being smart, being their daughter, being yourself. It’s a daily struggle, but one I think gets easier.

I do look up to them. They’ve been the best parents a person can have. Just looking at the news today, not every child can say that. They’ve helped shaped me into who I am, and for that, I’m grateful.

Back then I would tell my mother, like all children when believing they’re being mistreated, “When I become a mom, I’m never gonna treat my children the way you do me.”

I’ll never forget my mother’s words when she said with a straight face, “Yeah. I said the same thing to her, too.”