Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Well…. Not people so much as their selfishness.

Innately inconsiderate, self-centered beings. I want to cry. I want to scream and curse the error of their ways into their spirit, but that will never work.

People are so selfish that my two best friends – and by best, I mean the two who know the most of my business – both repeatedly tell me I need to be more selfish. Be MORE selfish?




I fucking hate people.

5yo Nailla was signed out of school by someone in Muslim garb claiming to be her mother.

Today, people are outraged.

Yesterday, those same people were having fits when being asked to show identification and follow protocol. 

In a culture where parents are disrespectful, of course the staff isn’t going to put up a fight in every situation. If I ask, “May I see your ID, ma’am?” and she gets aggravated, “the fuck I gotta show ID for? I come up in here every got dam day. Blah, blah, blah,” and I KNOW there’s a 90% chance my boss is going to take the parent’s side and either embarrass or reprimand me (or both), because he is also intimidated by the loud, reckless parents, what incentive do I have to put my foot down? Not defending the actions of this staff by any means, but that is the culture you create when you disrespect the people whose job it is to care for your children.

Not only are your children losing out educationally because the teacher can’t control 30-something children who know their parents will side with them no matter what, but you are physically putting them in harm’s way.

The people who are such a huge part of your children’s lives need to be your very best friends. Grow up. For Naiilla’s sake.

There were two things I planned to do/change in sync with the trip to Cali, and, well, I’m going to do them anyway.

But, I can’t talk about them, because, well, we see my pattern of not following through with the things I announce, right? (See, diet & exercise. Also, relocating to LA.)


Yesterday, I got that call from the recruiter about the one job, and have that interview coming up on Thursday.

Today, when I got home from therapy, I found a voicemail from another recruiter, but when I called her back, I got voicemail, and I haven’t yet heard back from her.

A few minutes later, I got a phone call that I thought was her, but it wasn’t her. It was a woman I interviewed with on July 12th. The job isn’t paying quite as much as I would like, but I can live with it. Everything else about it – location, job title, atmosphere – is what was on my checklist. I start Monday.

No more California dreamin’ for now.

Did I mention that life is funny?

Life is funny.

I’ve started packing. Yesterday I put out two bags of whatever I’ve been hoarding in the trash. One of my besties came and took like four grocery bags worth of stuff last night (clothes, shoes, household goods). I’m finally wrapping my head around the idea of leaving.

About 20 minutes ago, I got a call from a recruiter with whom I’ve worked in the past. I’ve been on eight interviews (ok, maybe there were only six or seven) with this one company – none of which resulted in a job offer for me – and now they want me to come in to meet a different hiring manager. She all but promised me the job, as if this one last interview is merely a formality.

The interview is next Thursday. Nine days before my one-way flight to Los Angeles.

My head is spinning. If I get the job, everything changes.


I’m taking my talents to Hollywood.

Love and employment have all but forsaken me, so it’s time for a new beginning.

On August 11, my laptop and I will board a jetliner with a duffel bag full of clothes and probably cry. I am quite a loner, but my friends and family have always been only a Septa ride away. By the time I reach my layover in Phoenix, I expect anxiety and optimism to be warring for control of my brain.

Monday, August 13, I have an interview at a placement agency at 2pm, and I’ve just last night submitted my resume at both ESPN and BET.

*fingers crossed*

Groupies, gold diggers, famewhores, etc…

It’s always been my policy not to judge people. I’m not gon’ say I DON’T judge people, but my rule is not to judge them. At least not from afar. I mean, some things are spelled out and if you ain’t shit, me saying you ain’t shit is not judging; It is calling a spade an ain’t shit spade.

And it works out well considering I’m generally detached (allegedly) and indifferent (admittedly). I don’t go around minding people’s business, and if their business comes to me, I still have the mental capacity to stand back and say, “there must have been a good reason.” Suffice it to say, people who haven’t another friend in the world tend to gravitate my way. That brings a set of problems all its own, but generally, they aren’t bad people.

But, I digress. Sort of. I know from experience what it’s like to be judged, so…


First, it’s usually some wannabe who’s mad they’re not in [insert celeb here]’s circle that is bestowing the label.

Second, who are you to judge who [insert celeb here] chooses to spend his or her time and/or money with?

Third, do you know the alleged groupie to know that her goal is deliberately to “get with a celebrity?”

Like, it’s one thing to see half-nekkid hoes camped out in the lobby of the hotel where the ballers are residing for the night. In that instance, label away. Preferably not aloud. Also, get out of dodge before you’re guilty by association if you’re a woman, or labeled a broke-ass hater if you’re a dude.

Aside from that, have a seat.

What do you really know when you see two people together?

Sometimes they are old friends. Celebs are people, too, and they have “people.” People who grew up in the same area, or went to the same school, or their parents were friends, or they dated in their hometown, or for whatever reason, their lives intersected. Were they supposed to fall off and dump their friends when they got famous or rich?

That’s stupid. And to make it personal, I’ve been there.

In school, it was the athletes. They were my people. My friends were athletes and their friends became my friends. We hit it off cuz we were equally uninterested in being scholars, and I was the one they trusted with… everything. Money, property, scandals. Everything. When they went out, I was invited. When they stayed in, I was invited. There was always a rumor floating around about who I was fucking, and I was a virgin!

But, when I was carrying on a secret teenage love affair with someone relatively famous and undeniably wealthy, everyone thought we were just friends. People’s judgement ain’t shit and they should remember that.

Out here in the real grown-up world that strangely resembles high school… I’ve had plenty of people, both friends and strangers, question why I’m seen with this rich guy or that local celeb. *shrug* We’re friends. Sometimes it’s business, sometimes we need a heart-to-heart, sometimes it’s old friends making peace, sometimes we wanna get shit-faced in trusted company. Call me what you want, but if you do, I will remind you that there is no sex involved. That makes me a groupie, how?

If you wanna see a groupie, let me introduce you to this self-proclaimed “Boss Bitch” I know who pretends it’s all business, but is really just pressed to be associated with certain people. Spends her days name dropping, her evenings leveraging her friends to see who they can introduce her to, and her nights screwing everyone who has a Wikipedia page.

Then there’s people who just LIKE a certain celeb but not cuz he’s rich or famous. I’ve always said that because fame puts you in the public eye, famous you is always gonna have more people checking for you than you would if  your notoriety didn’t extend past your block. When you’re on, you’re on. People see you, and people get used to you, and people who would otherwise never have seen your face or known your name begin to like you. Granted, many are wooed by the lights and lured by the lifestyle, but sometimes people simply fall for what they perceive the person to be.

Case in point, I love me some Nnamdi Asomugha. I’ve never met that man, and I wouldn’t know anything about him if he weren’t famous. But, based on the few profiles/bios and interviews I’ve seen, you can’t tell me there’s anything bad about that man. His smile is everything and he looks like he smells good, plus he seems smart, and appears to be a good person. A perfect candidate to be my future something or other. That doesn’t mean I’m going out of my way to meet him, or throwing my panties at him if I see him, but I get all dreamy-eyed when he’s on my TV.

Speaking of athletes, I have a girlfriend who, in college… well, they were her twist. I’m not gon call her a groupie just cuz she likes em tall and muscular, and is therefore always crushing on a basketball player or one of the taller football players. If I were to call her a groupie, it would be because she admittedly gauged her interest by their level of popularity and systematically took em down. lol. See, there are some people who do these things deliberately, and others who just appear to be up to something.

I don’t judge, though. We became friends cuz I was always around and she was always around – clearly for different reasons, and, well, when I tell you I don’t mind other people’s business, I don’t. I try to learn why, but I don’t say she’s a horrible person for doing what she did. She had fun, they had fun, I don’t need the details.

On the other hand, I had a former friend who was the golden child and everyone thought she could do no wrong, but she was literally sleeping in her boyfriend’s teammate’s bed. So, you know, there’s always more than meets the eye.

Speaking of more than meets the eye, why are you mad at me cuz he’s seen with me? Whether I was a waitress, a stripper, or Halle fucking Berry, why would dating a rich person or a famous person make me a gold-digging fame whore? Maybe we were set up on a blind date. Maybe he walked into my store or whatever other place of business and saw something he liked. Am I to ignore him just because he’s in somebody’s limelight? Eff that. Everything’s fair in the name of love.

On the other hand, what if I started out with intentions of being a gold-digging fame whore and once I got to know my target, I fell in love with him? Love will change every damn thing. Unless I confide my story in you and it is indeed all bad, you have no grounds to make that judgment.

Even the Kim K’s and Amber Roses of the world have a back story that should be considered before you label them whatever you choose to call them. How did they get so close to whoever they were linked to in the first place? How does a common background, or something in common, period, establish her ill-intent?

If he brought her into his fancy little world, and when they were done, she wound up with someone else in that circle, it doesn’t mean that was her “plan.” That’s just the way the cookie crumbles. You meet people, you date people, you make it work, or you move on. Depending on how long y’all were together, or how deeply you were pulled into “that” world, you probably don’t just move to a farm in Nebraska when you break up.

You not gon’ hate me just cuz I date people whose names you recognize.  That doesn’t mean I was trying to stay in the limelight. If they’re dating, then break up, and the not-famous half of the pair did make a conscious decision to stay at that level, in their defense, having been exposed to life with an international superstar, why the hell would they wanna go back to dating Ray-Ray from up the block who can’t keep a job, anyway? I’m not mad.

Jealous, insecure, wanna-bes (both male and female) LOVE to bash someone’s character. Preferably someone well-known, and who doesn’t know them so there’s little chance of repercussion beyond a few seconds of infamy for having “beef.”

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  • Najeema: I've got the same plans (and posterboard on my kitchen table) for a vision board. I'll share mine if you share yours, lol. Hoping you attract everythi
  • NVRGVUP: Love is where it's at!