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.