Only Nice Cars Get Respect on the Road

I have to say I don't consider myself materialistic. I gave up on trying to be decked out in name brand clothing years ago. If I see a nice shirt for a decent price at Wal-mart, I'mma buy it, just as quick as I'd buy a name brand shirt for a decent price.


(Sidenote: this makes me think of how dumb I had to have been to stand out in the cold in line for hours, just to buy some Jordans.)

Anyways, one thing I have noticed that is quite essential to life is a nice car. But no, I'm not contradicting myself. You see, I've had the pleasure (or displeasure) of driving some of the most fucked up, raggedy-est vehicles. When you have an ex-mechanic as a Daddy, he will find u anything with four wheels as long as he can get it running.

I've also had the pleasure of driving nice cars and I've noticed one thing:

People respond to you on the road based on what you drive.

My Daddy once had me and my sister driving a 1979 Toyota something; I don't remember what color it was because it was so rusted out. Gray maybe? I do remember how loud it was, and it was too old to have been manufactured during the days of power steering.

Parallel parking, what me and my sister affectionately nicknamed "The Putt," was like a damn part time job. When people would hear you coming in that, they'd look and laugh. But it aint make me no difference, I wasn't on the damn bus.

People on the road would also stare as if your car had no damn right to be on the road. I will never forget the stares of people that would pull up alongside me as if I was riding in a tin can on wheels. Though you probably could argue that's what "The Putt" really was.

When I had a '91 Toyota Camry, the disgusted looks stopped. But I still didn't get much respect. I was in a so-so car and the respect I got was so-so. People knew you were on the road, but didn't mind if they cut you off from time to time. Besides, who am I to complain in my '91 slow ass vehicle in the new millennium?

Then came Essie, a '95 green Ford Escort. Now, there was one difference between Essie and all the other cars, she was a stick shift. So I could rev her up, and peel out, and yes I would do this whenever people would give me that so-so look. Sure I upgraded 4 years, but I was still in a so-so vehicle. Plus, it was a hatchback, so that meant I lost some more points.

I just could not gain the respect of my fellow drivers. That is until my love, Vida came into my life. A 2001 all black Volkswagen; that was also a stick shift. Now, I could rev up Vida and she'd take off in a matter of minutes, leaving many of those on the road seeing only a black dot of cool.

I was cool in Vida. I was respected in Vida. No one could fuck with Vida.
And then just that quick, the legacy that had started out as Vida had been tarnished. A simple mishap caused the hood on Vida to fly up one day while driving and get crushed like a piece of black construction paper.

The hood now had to be tied down with rope, just to make it from point A to B. There would be no more peeling out in a matter of seconds.

Vida wasn't the same. Nor was she respected the same. Passer-bys would look at the black car with the crumbled hood; passing judgement on me, the driver. I obviously had to have been in some sort of accident that was clearly my fault. Any front end damage on car is the driver's fault.

So now other drivers pass me up, and whip by me as if I'm a mistake on the road.
No longer that black dot of cool, but a mistake with a crunched hood.

Every Man Needs an Heir. Or Heiress?

Just like I suspected it’s a GIRL.
I guess you can say my motherly instincts have already started kicking in. (just joking)
Nontheless there it was clear as day on the ultrasound screen that my boyfriend would not be getting the little male cub he had envisioned he’d have. He’d instead have to settle for Nala. And then I sadly thought of how there would be no football games or catch outside or wrestling in the living room. Daddy would have to opt for princess pageants, tea parties and ballet class.
That made me worry.
Doesn’t every man want a little man of their own? Since the beginning of time, a male heir has been important. History shows that. King Henry VIII of England had his wife Anne Boleyn executed after she failed to give him a male heir to take over the thrown. There’s always an abundance of chinese girls availalbe for adoption since the country have a one child per family policy, and boys of course are desired more. Now there’s also the option of babies by design, and I’m quite sure boys are number one on the couple’s list. But I could be wrong.
It still made me think and after thinking about it, it all came back to “everything happens for a reason,” which I do strongly believe in.
Taking proper care of one woman is hard enough. We see that on the regular. Men not being faithful to the women in their lives, trying to take on more women, when all along he can’t maintain the one he has. There’s also the man that has one woman but doesn’t respect her or love her. So if one woman is difficult, two women must be a monstrosity of a task. And yet God has entrusted him to take on this task. God has trusted him to not only take proper care of me, but more importantly take proper care of his daughter, who will need him more than I ever will.
So maybe an heir isn’t all that important. Besides he’s been blessed with an heiress to raise.

A New Me

It's been months since I've updated my blog and that's because life sort of got in the way. Working 40 hours a week as a reporter, can be tiring. (I can't imagine working more hours like most reporters normally do) My weekends are usually spent, laying around the house, doing absolutely nothing constructive.

But come very soon even that will change. I'm embarking on a journey many women before me, and many women after me will embark on.... The journey to motherhood. That's right. I'm pregnant. Surprised? Yeah, so was I when two pink lines showed up on the home pregnancy test I'd taken.

I thought the test was wrong; wasn't sure if I wanted it to be or not. And now 22 weeks later, here I am with a very pregnant belly occasionally feeling little thumps from a very busy baby.

A million thoughts, questions, scenarios run through my mind on a regular basis. Before ever really feeling any movement I often wondered if something really was inside of me or was every tests in that box defective. Now that I feel him/her moving, I try to imagine what he/she is doing, how he/she is moving and why. Not knowing the gender of my baby isn't the only big question racing through my mind. Like most parents-to-be, I wonder if my baby will look like me and act like me or more like his/her daddy. I imagine conservations we'll have when my baby is all grown up. I probably imagine and think about everything possible!

But there is probably one thing that baffles me the most, how is it possible to love someone so much despite ever meeting them?

Nip/tuck’s Ugly Ending

“So, tell me what you don’t like about yourself.”

I must admit I’m going to miss hearing that line. Since 2003, FX’s edgy drama that covered the lives of plastic surgeons Sean McNamara and Christian Troy has been providing Americans a look into the often taboo world of permanent (and sometimes painful) cosmetic makeovers. And after its 100th episode, the series came to a rather disappointing end. And even a week later, I’m still having withdrawals. Too many questions were left and as a devoted Nip/tuck viewer, I was quite upset to see such an ugly ending.

First things first, I have to comment on Julia, why the hell does she have to move around so much? What does she even do for a living that allows her to skip across the U.S. and now the damn seven seas? There’s no way her and Sean’s children are living a normal life. She’s really just going to pack up and move to London? Really?

Liz. I loved Liz, she was one of the boys but at the same time still a woman. Now she’s expecting which I think is great. And they finally made her partner in the practice and then she just dips off? I don’t understand. That was just dumb.

And now onto the biggest dummy of the series—Matt. I couldn’t stand his ass. I’ve never liked him. He’s a wimp. Matt always fell into a trap or got caught up in something. He just couldn’t get nothing right. Though I didn’t agree with him marrying Ramona, why would he chase after someone that doesn’t love him. (And after the way she ditched that poor baby, she clearly doesn’t have the capacity to love someone else.) They could’ve killed Matt off in an earlier episode and I wouldn’t have been upset. That’s how much I didn’t like him, he just was there to be there.

It’s clear that Sean raised Matt, because in a sense, Sean is a wimp, too. Letting Julia just take his kids wherever she pleased? Punk. Allowing Christian to dominate his life? Soft. Wanting to be involved in Liz’s child’s life, after he was only supposed to be a sperm donor? Wuss. Sean just couldn’t do what Sean wanted to do. I’m not even sure he wanted to go to Budapest. Christian forced it on him and even forced him out of the practice. And despite all the sucka moves Sean made, I was still sad to see him go. I mean he was one of the main dudes of the show.

I have to say Christian’s end was no real surprise to me. He still hasn’t changed and I love it. He was always the star of the show in my eyes. He kept it real and wasn’t on the bullshit. Sure, he had plenty flaws but those flaws were minor setbacks in his eyes. Christian was and will always be the shit.

I will definitely miss him making low self-esteemed people with extra cash flow “beautiful.”




*image courtesy of flickr*

"Friender" Beware: The Pretenders You May Meet Online

In a world that is continually going the digital route, it’s hard to know who you really are communicating with on a lot of social networking sites. The majority of social networkers “friend” those they actually know in real life (though they may be no more than associates) but may occasionally accept a friend or two out of their complete knowing circle.

Much of the “friending” or “following” process is completely based on human nature curiosity a.k.a. nosiness. For example, you’re scrolling along and see the familiar name of a bitch from high school you faithfully rolled your eyes at, and her profile pic isn’t looking too good, so you instantly friend her ass like you’re trying to “see how she’s been since high school.” You really just want to see how much she’s fell off and drink from the pool of self-love at her expense. Fuck her. She’s a loser now with her 3 kids, and barely there wall postings. Plus, you notice her baby shower pics or any of her kids’ pics never show the kids’ father(s). Sucks for her.

But while you’re online snooping and “friending” everybody you come into contact with, it’s always smart to know that social networking sites have now allowed for people to live double lives vicariously through their cool digitally improved selves.

There are a few profiles you commonly run into while venturing out on these sites:

We Ride Tight Whips Everyday – Ladies, don’t fall for this trap! This guy seems to own every car out there based on his photo albums. Monte Carlos with fresh paint jobs, Lexus coupe with slick rims, a Box Chevy sittin’ high…. Is that a Maybach?! Alright stop it. Bruh, this city is too small for you to be driving these exclusive ass cars and go unnoticed. Matter of fact, didn’t I see yo ass waiting for the #31 the other day?!

You Know We Be up in the Club – Daaaaamn is all a dude can say looking at this chick’s profile pictures. Every pic, she’s fly and dressed to impress. Hair done. Check. Nails done. Check. Lips gloss poppin’. Check. It’s as if she’s always up on the latest trends. WRONG. This bitch just put up every going out pic she has. That’s the only time she looks decent. That fly ass dress? Oh, it’s not hers. Her girl will be rockin it next week. Oh, and the hair? Most of it’ll be gone too. Keep flipping through her albums. Why isn’t there a single pic of her just chillin? On her way to work or school? Hmmmm. What do she really look like?

Who Dat is? That’s Just His Baby Mama – Ok, this one isn’t hard to spot. She more than likely has no more than 5 pictures. 7 max. Most of them are blurry low quality bathroom pics taken on a cell phone, and a few pics with her and a baby manage to make their way into the albums. Her “info” and “about me” sections are pretty cut and dry. She’s clearly not on this FB shit. So why does she even have a page? She’s just playing internet police. She’s policing her baby daddy’s page. So ladies, if you get a random friend request from a bitch you don’t even know, chances are she’s “friending” you to see why you’re “friends” with her baby daddy. You might not even know the nigga but she doesn’t care. She’s on a mission to make every female friend of his hers. And she might just be bold enough to send you a message asking “who is u.” To avoid the drama, block her illiterate ass and keep it moving.

You Like? – These people are the real pretenders of social networking sites. Their status is constantly updated and usually it’s not about any damn thing important.

“Shoutout to all the single mothers that play mommy and daddy.”

“I just saved a bunch of $$ by switching to Geico”

“Just had a job interview, they talking bout $15/hr”

First of all, you don’t know nothing about single mommys or daddys, yo parents both are together and have been so for a long ass time and you aint got no damn kids. Secondly, you don’t even have a car, so how you get Geico? They insure bus passes now? Lastly, you know damn well yo broke ass didn’t have an interview nor do you have any interviews lined up. People like this are just addicted to seeing the lil “thumbs up” icon next to their status. They get off on that. Losers.

A yo’ You Comin Thru? - Social networking is now a marketing tool. I get it, it’s free and it’s fast. But annoying ass club promoters a.k.a. random niggas, have taken it too far. My inbox shouldn’t be flooded with invites. And I definitely do not wanna see wall posts IN ALL CAPS similar to shit like this:

***DON’T HIDE THAT P$SSY PARTY GOING DOWN. CLOSING AT CAPACITY, SO GET THERE EARLY! 18 TO DIP, 21 TO SIP***

Ummm. WTF is that?! First of all, why are you yelling on my page?! Secondly, go to school and learn how to be a real businessman. Have you ever seen a successful car salesman yell someone into buying a car? That tacky shit won’t get you nowhere.

Mz. Parker - We all got ‘em... a friend who’s Mama is like 10 years our senior, so she wanna be “down” and she wanna kick it with the girls. But here’s the thing Mom Dukes, you’re not our age, you’re not in our generation so stop it. So you log on, and see her ass done “friended” you. Damn. You don’t wanna say no, plus you can’t. Her own daughter can deny her, but you can’t. It’s just in the manual for dealing with your friends’ parents. You always have to be nice, even when they’re kids aren’t. But you also don’t wanna say yeah. You don’t need her ass embarrassing you, commenting on pics or blabbing your business via wall posts. What to do, what to do? Leave it pending, Her non-technical ass might not even realize you never responded and be content with her 10.2 friends. *fingers crossed*

I think I've had an Epiphany (and No, that doesn't mean I'm going to Tiffany's)

It’s been nearly two months since I’ve graduated and I have yet to land a full-time job in journalism. There’s been days where my spirit have reached all time lows and days where my determination and drive is in the clouds. It’s one of the most uncertain times I’ve had to deal with in my life. This is all new to me.
And I know everyone means well but until you decide to become a journalist, you will never know how I feel right now. There’s a difference between just writing and doing journalism. So, the suggestions that I “should look into PR work” are usually met with disdain and a possible “dumb ass” under my breath. Nor, do I want to do Teach for America, I appreciate the emails and the fact that “based on my extracurricular involvement, I’d be a great candidate,” but to be honest, the only kids I like are the ones I can be around for a few hours then drop off.
Oh yeah, the mentions of how “broke” I will be as a journalist, doesn’t mean much to me either. What most people don’t get is that, this is bigger than salaries. In fact, it’s bigger than life. As corny as it may sound, I honestly feel like this is what I’m on Earth to do.
Think about it. Journalists have a lot of power. Journalists can set the national agenda. Journalists can persuade people to feel a certain way about anyone or anything depending on the words they choose. (Why else would they make laws about what you write and say?) And often times, minorities—my people—are left out to dry by mainstream media. How many times are blacks portrayed negatively by the news? Too many to count.
But I’m looking to change that. I want to not only give black people a vehicle to continue to voice their concerns, but also make sure mainstream media is doing right by us. As a Christian woman, I think that’s what I was meant to do and nobody can change my thinking.
We’re all here on Earth for a reason and I believe I’ve found mine…

Mr. Officer

So... There I was cruising up 71 minding my own business. It was a little foggy but visibility was cool, plus I wear glasses so my vision's 20/20... At least I thought it was, but there was no way I saw the white blur of a Highway Patrol car, sitting in the trenches waiting to pounce on me.

And damnit did he pounce. He did a fuckin $102 pounce. Yes, I got a speeding ticket.

I tried to slow it down, which I managed to do. He clocked me at 81 mph... I could've easily been doing 100. For the past 4 years I've cruised up and down 71 and not a single ticket.

Looks like my luck has finally ran out.

Oh, but at least the officer was nice enough to put my license sticker on for me...