Let's Try This Again...

Okay.

I've been negligent.

I have not blogged since MARCH and that just...negligent. Embarrassingly negligent. Every couple of days I'd get this nagging tug in my chest, reminding me that I used to write--pretty heavily--on this here blog. And I'd ignore it. I considered deading this blog and starting all over, but I just can't seem to do it. I just couldn't let go off the six people that read my blog, waiting with baited breath for my next post. So we're going to try to revv up this baby back up and keep it going. FOREVER! Bwahahahhaa!

Let today mark my return to the blogosphere. A lot has happened in the the seven months I've been "gone":

I moved out my mama's house to Brooklyn. Michael Vick went to prison. So did Bernie Madoff. But if it helps anything, the rapper Shyne was released from prision (So win?). Kanye West showed his behind with poor Taylor Swift caught in the crossfire at the Video Music Awards. Barack Obama was awarded the Nobel Prize (say what now? I know.). We're still losing wars, losing lives in Afghanistan. And sweet Lord in heaven, Michael Jackson died. I've developed a strange appetite for strawberry milkshakes and chicken nuggets from McDonald's that I'm trying to control. And did I mention my dude Michael Jackson died? Damn, it still hurts to think about sometime.

But anyway, I've been telling myself I had until October 15 to get it together and write something. So consider this that "something." From here on out, more posts, more video, more crap. Yay!

I'll be back. Promise.

The Kameelah List: Do You Have One?

If you were born before 1990 and could afford cable television (or was resourceful enough to know how to steal it), then you probably were a Real World (or Road Rules) fan at one point in your life. You know, when MTV wasn't over-trough with reality television shows featuring crusty, aging rappers, big bootied ho's or spoiled rich white girls that become famous for just being famous, MTV actually put on some pretty kick-ass programming.

And if you were an OG MTV connoisseur like I was, you never missed a season of Real World--from the first season in New York (with Heather B and Kevin Powell) to this year's watered down Brooklyn season.

I had no business watching the crap I did and was actually forbidden to watch ANYTHING on MTV (you could add Beverly Hills, 90210 and Baywatch to the list as well), but with a mom that worked nights and a dad that slept pretty heavily at night, I was good money.

Looking back, the Real World has churned some memorable characters. And like every other black viewer, I always remember all the black cast members. Remember Tek? Syrus? Coral? Jacquese? Fine ass Kamaro--who later admitted to being gay? That one hurt. But one character in particular I remember--Kameelah, from Season 6 Real World in Boston. Lord, that broad was crazy.

Kameelah was the TBGH--The Black Girl of the House. I remember taking an initial interest in her because she went to one of my dream schools, Stanford (oh, how quickly young dreams die). She was an AKA, came from a rough home situation. Cute. Small. Sometimes annoying. Dramatic as hell.

But what I *really* remembered about this girl was a thing she introduced that I would become WELL acquainted with in later years: "The List."

Composed of over TWO HUNDRED items, Kameelah's list was her iron-clad index of requirements every man must meet if they wanted to date her. Things like: "must have more than one syllable in his name."--So, sorry Will (Smith), Sean (Penn), George (Clooney). Kameelah, just won't be dating your ass.

Or "must know how to dance."

Stupid stuff. Two hundred, though?? C'mon now.

Trolling the internet, I've found that in the last few years, Kameelah's index has gained a sort of notoriety, especially on a popular music website (which I will not name as I refuse to admit I frequent it as much as I do), aptly called named "The Kameelah-Ass List." The dudes on this website uses the phrase to define some often absurd requirements that their female counterparts push on the men in their life.

I mean, I know *I* don't have a Kameelah list. I'd like to think I'm a bit more realistic (I hope, at least) and understanding when it comes to my "requirements" for a male companion. But nevertheless, I do have a list.

I call those my "Non-Negotiables." For instance, I will not date a person that uses drugs. And as much as I love my gaydies, I'd really like it if the guys I date don't like guys as well. In a related vein, I'd REALLY appreciate it if you were born biologically male, too. I'm just saying. Oh--and I don't do midgets, either. Sorry.

But Kameelah's list is different and borders on the neurotic; at the very best it's polarizing and unrealistic.

And is a lot more common than us women would admit to.

It's true: a lot of women nowadays have their own Kameelah-Ass List. Not a regular, logical, flexible, working list, no. A lot of my fellow wimmens hold fast to long, unrealistic, and frankly unfair requirements for the men they meet. For instance, a friend of mine doesn't date guys that employ a liberal usage of mayonnaise in their food. With the exception of potato salad, no man she meets should use mayo in a sandwich, as she claims that only white people should like mayonnaise. Stupid? Yep. Racist, too.

A business acquaintance of mine will not consider dating a guy that does not--listen to this one, now-- frequent strip clubs, as she feels such a disinterest in such sexual proclivities suggest a suppression of some kind of homosexual urge. Her words, not mine.

Yes, it is quite silly. But it happens more often than you think. And the more women I meet at meetings and lunches and events, the more I notice how utterly ridiculous some women are. So dudes, I understand.

Make no mistake however: any respectable woman ought to have *a* list. A reasonable, considerate, logical list. If she doesn't, she's not worth her weight in salt. Or gold. Or however that phrase goes. I can't remember.

But for real: ladies, we gotta loosen the reins jusssst a little bit when dealing with the menfolk. You know they're a special breed. So what if he can't dance? Or can't swim? Does it really matter that he rather use a fork instead of chopsticks when y'all go out for sushi?

You very well could be passing up a very good thing as you deal with your nonsensical hangups.

We gotta work together, people.

McDonald's, Please Release Me from Your Clutches

Well, I'll be: I think I want a Filet O' Fish right...about...now...

This revelation is especially weird, given I haven't eaten in a McDonald's in years. Matter of factly, the smell that emits from a McDonald's makes me a bit sick. Gone are the days I'd be able to scarf down two double-cheeseburgers, an order of mozzarella sticks and a disgustingly delicious vanilla shake off the Dollar Menu.

But seemingly, this commercial really makes me want a damn fish sammich. Peep the clip.

See what I mean? Don't YOU want a fish sandwich now, too?

Like, I get it. Well, not really.

There probably isn't anything to get, other than this commercial is utterly ridiculous. "Stupid-funny" is a term that seems more accurate. Every time I watch it on TV, I catch myself chuckling, then shaking my head in dismay at how easily humored I am.

I mean, Mickey D's has been around for a minute. Surely, they--more than anyone, in fact--understand the power of implicit target marketing. But why me? Just when I've cut out cheese and processed sugars and fried food from my diet. Why, Ray Kroc? Why?

I'd hate to think that I was weak-minded and have fallen victim to the evils of corporate advertising. Over a dang fish on a wall, for cryin' out loud. Has it really become that easy?

Just wanted to post up the video. I'm sure everyone has seen this commercial and has some reaction to it.

Did you want to run out and buy a fish sandwich after watching it (many times? I know, it's catchy as hell).

Man, I want those thirty seconds of my life back.

:(

Garbage In, Garbage Out

I eat too much crap.

And I try to act like I eat healthily, but honestly, I don't.

I am unapologetic for my love of bread. And rice. And anything that once had parents (except pork). I love my food fried, breaded, battered or slathered in a an oil-laden sauce of some sort. Let's not discuss my ability to straight PUNISH a good charcoaled-grill burger. Slathered in cheddar cheese and ketchup, of course. Yum-o!

But I've noticed that as I get older, I just can't get down like I used to. I wake up every morning looking like a R&B pop star did a number on my face. I'm blotchy. Bloated. And every...single...thing HURTS. Waaaah.

So, with the official birthday countdown now standing at T-minus 51 days, I'm resolving to take better care of myself in the hopes of looking like Halle Berry come May 6th *snicker*. But honestly, I want to have glowing, radiant skin that people will HATE me for. (LOL but not really)

Alas, desperate times call for desperate measures. It's time to shape up and be serious. I figure I should just jump right it and eliminate things cold turkey, no?

My soon-to-be adopted regimen (completely arbitrary, I might add) is as follows:

*A daily intake of eight glasses of water

*A daily supplement of flax seed oil

*The elimination of processed sugars (Good grief, this one's gonna be hard. Sometimes you just NEED a cupcake. Or three.)

...And what's gonna hurt me the most:

*I'm giving up cheese, y'all. Oh cheese.

Finally, I have to find a way to get eight hours of sleep in each night. I know it's really, really, REALLY important, but it always seems like there's too much to do (or put off doing). I don't even think I've had eight consecutive hours of sleep since kindergarten. For me, the night time's always been the right time (c) Ray Charles, but we shall see.

Pray that my lack of sugary subsistence doesn't turn me into a belligerent b-word.

Toodle-loo.

Justify My Snug(gie).

I want a snuggie. 

Don't judge me. 

For real, y'all: how many times have you found yourself laying on the couch in front of the TV, constantly fighting with your blanket?  Every thirty seconds, the sides of the blanket slide off your shoulders and you gotta throw the blanket edges back over your shoulders, all aggressive-like. But sometimes, I get a little too aggressive and end up pinning my arms tightly to my sides.  So I just end of sitting there, bound and defeated and fall asleep. The whole TV watching experience is ruined. *pouts*

But alas, the other night, I saw this infomerical on this new innovative, um, invention affectionally known as the snuggie. Need a visual, you say? Well, here you go!

And I want one. I've got to have one. 

Luckily, I will be asking for birthday gifts this year. After all, what's life without an obsession with material goods? I mean, really now. If I'm gonna make this happen, I gotta ask for the good stuff. Besides world peace, what else could I possibly ask for besides the Snuggie? 

 

Whoever thought of this is a genius. I want to shake his or her hand. And thank them for changing my life for the better. Forever. 

I Watched Too Much TV as a Child...

No, I don't really want to talk about Biggie today, on the twelfth anniversary of his death (R.I.P.).

And I'm not especially pressed to add to the "Chrianna" fiasco that's been spilling all over the internets. I'll have to do that later.

Ordinarily, today I'd write about something more astute--maybe applaud Attorney General Holder for his bold admission that America is a country full of race cowards or shun Michael Steele for his ignorance, but right now, my energy level is a negative-8 and steady dwindling...

Thusly, in the interest of submitting some reading material (and making for an easy cop-out) to you, I submit the following quiz of Coming to America trivia.

Yes, I do feel the world would be a better place if we all took the time to sit, relax and watch Eddie Murphy at his professional apex, before he thought donning fat suits and making movies for the kiddies were good ideas (Actually, those were two really good ideas, but damn if I don't miss Raw, crass Eddie of yesteryear).

Anywhoo, Coming to America is my favorite, favorite comedy. Of like, all time. I'll watch it whenever it's on television (TBS, holla!), will quote it randomly, and will look at you sideways if you tell me you've never seen it.

Admittedly, some of these are real stumpers. I think I got all but two. I thought it was fun. But I'm warning you, these questions are not for the fair weather fans that claim they know everything about CTA. No, sir...

I don't even know why I'm posting this up--no one's gonna get these...

But whatevs. Enjoy, yo.

Answers tomorrow. Or whenever lol.

1. What is Akeem’s full name?

2. “My name is Peaches…” what is her sister’s name?

3. Who is Dottie?

4. Who falls down the stairs and farts?

5. In the Miss Black Awareness Pageant, how many women are wearing a thong bikini?

6. Who directed Coming to America?

7. What year and month did Coming to America hit the theaters?

8. “It’s got one window facing a brick wall. I used to rent it to a blind man” How is this later contradicted?

9. How does the king punish Semmi?

10. What is the name of Randy Watson’s band?

11. What is the big difference between the Big Mic and the Big Mac?

12. What is the address to McDowells?

13. Who plays Mrs. McDowell?

14. How does Akeem really know Mortimer and Randolph?

15. Besides Martin Luther King, who does Mr. Clarence claimed to have met?

16. What is the name of Akeem’s pet elephant?

17. What is the name of the Jackie Wilson song Akeem sings?

18. How many characters do Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall play in the movie?

19. Who does Semmi end up falling in love with?

20. What famous South African chorus sings the opening sequence of the movie?

21. Why can’t Darryl help stop the robbery at Mc Dowells?

22. What airline do Akeem and Semmi fly to America?

23. What university does Akeem claim he attends?

24. James Earl Jones and Madge Sinclair, also play King and Queen in what other famous movie?

25. What famous singer choreographed the African dance leading to Imani’s reveal?

26. In what part of the movie does John Landis make his director’s cameo?

27. What is Imani’s favorite food?

28. Who originally came up with the fictional name Zamunda?

29. How old was Joe Louis when he fought Rocky Marcianno according to Mr. Clarence?

30. How much did Akeem spend on the Ruby earrings for Lisa?

With just a lil' swipe...

 I know it's pretty late, but I felt I had to write about this before tomorrow.

Earlier this week, I read an article in the Daily News about little Jasmina Anema, a six-year old with leukemia from Greenwich Village.  She suffers from a rare form of leukemia and was just diagnosed in January. It's been said they said she doesn't have  much longer--unless she finds a bone marrow donor. 

Well, tomorrow is the donor drive (info below) and I've been spreading the word, in the hopes of doing what little I can to possibly save this beautiful child's life. 

So here's my appeal to you--all three of you who read my blog!--to try to make it down there tomorrow (or at least, spread the word). All you gotta do is let them take a quick swab of your cheek. Five seconds, tops.

In the interest of full disclosure, I must caution that the actual procedure of extracting the marrow from the donor is quite painful. But what's a little discomfort if it means possibly giving life to another human being?

I plan on being there tomorrow, willing mouth on hand and hope for a phenomenal and ultimately successful turnout. 

Jasmina's donor drive will be held tomorrow, Saturday, March 7th at P.S. 41 (116 W. 11th Street) from 10AM to 2PM. For more information, contact DKMS, a nonprofit marrow donor center: 866-340-3567

Peace always, 

Me