Confessional Monday on Friday

So... no bullshit... I keep saying Im going to blog and, to be quite honest, I really have meant to. I have shit on my mind but things just keep coming up. My homie/sister/co-worker was laid off of my job so I'm the only one in my office now and work has to be done... thus, causing the lack of blogs since I cant sit here and bullshit all day.

Anyway... here's a quick one.

I loved Michael Jackson as a kid. I wanted to dance like him... kinda looked like him (don't judge me), wanted to dress like him (continue the non-judging). MJ was the fucking King in my book. Anyway, one day me and my little brother was watching the old Moonwalker movie on VHS and I decided that I wanted to lean like dude in the Smooth Criminal video

.

So, I convince my little brother to safety pin his robe belt to my tank top and hold me while i leaned. We gather some safety pins and he takes his blue robe belt and attaches it to my tank top. The video is on... we're watching it... enjoying it... and waiting for the part.

Dance sequence comes on... I'm into it and he grabs the robe to help me lean and... wait for it... I'm leaning... wait for it... I'm leaning a little more... wait for it....

*Boom* I fall into the fucking coffee table and crack my damn head. My brother busts out in laughter while I'm rolling on the floor saying "that's not what was supposed to happen" and crying like a little Bi-Atch.

My mother came home and asked what happened and we both lied and said I fell off my bike. We weren't supposed to be in the living room watching Moonwalker and we had meddled in her sewing drawer which was off-limits so we had no choice. Whats even worse is that I had to walk around school with this big ass homemade bandage to cover up my bruised and gashed forehead.

Moral of the story: You aint Michael Jackson and gravity is real.

True shit.

P.S not all of my confessions revolve around me dancing or embarrassing myself... but a lot of them do. ;)

Confessional Monday

I was about 13 years old and was spending the entire summer with my cousin Dee. We were watching music videos and Hot Boyz "I need a Hot Girl"video came on with all the girls booty shaking and washing cars an' shit. Anyway, I went upstairs to get something out of her room and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and without thinking starting booty dancing in the mirror. You know the booty dance, right? Hand on knees and popping booty. So, I'm hiking up my shorts and dropping it likes its hot like I'm one of the girls in the video when i hear a familiar voice say while laughing"What the hell are you doing... looking hoochie as hell. Girl, Imma tell your mother". Then he called his girlfriend (my cousin/Dee's mom) and my aunt into the room to tell them about my impromptu performance.

My cousin's step dad was in the room laying down under the covers the WHOLE TIME and I hadn't even noticed that he was in there. It looked like a pile of clothes or blankets jumbled on the bed so I didn't pay it any attention. Needless to say, I was soooooo embarrassed that I just went downstairs and tried to avoid him for weeks. Of course, being the obnoxious asshole that he is, he made sure to make fun of me for the rest of the summer and tell all the neighborhood boys that came by to visit that i liked to dance. Did I mention that I hate him?

I don't think I ever told anyone that... *hangs head in shame*

True Shit.

The Day My Christmas Spirit Died....

Let me just start by saying I love all things Christmas... the decorations, the cheerfulness, the shopping, my son's face when he opens presents, and most of all the Christmas music (don't front like y'all don't sing "This Christmas"). However, Christmas hasn't been the same for me since Christmas of 2002.

Christmas was considered a big event in my house growing up. My mom was a T.V mom. She decorated the whole house with green garland and lights, cooked a big dinner and always bought trees bigger than our living room could hold. This particular Christmas was going to be bigger than the previous ones because my dad had received a large settlement and promised us a huge Christmas with a lot of presents.

For weeks, i had done all of the shopping because my parents were busy working late shifts and didn't have time for shopping. At 16, i was taking several buses and traveling to the malls to buy the presents that I knew my siblings and parents would want. After I'd come home, I'd go in my room and wrap the presents up in beautiful paper and ribbon and store them in my closet. There were so many gifts in my room that I couldn't close my closet door and had to hide them under my bed... Playstations, MP3 players, computers, movies, jewelry. You name it, I bought it. I wanted everybody happy when Christmas came.

The rest of this post was moved to ALL THE SHIT I WANT PRIVATE

End of Days: High-heeled Sneakers

They had their run in the early nineties with the canvas chunky heeled, squared toe style and then re-vamped around 2000 in the style of Air Force Ones. Almost ten years later, the high-heeled sneaker has re-emerged in the style of the classic sneaker... the Air Jordan.

I SWEAR on all things good in life that I hate, yes HATE, the high-heeled sneaker. These are the "hoodrats" of footwear and there is nothing cute, sexy, stylish, classy or fashionable about them yet they seem to make their way back to the streets every 10 years or so.

My deep hatred comes from an experience about 10 years ago. It was 1999 and I was beginning my freshman year at Western High School. After years of being a borderline chubby tomboy, wearing baggy khaki's and polo-styled shoes (it was my uniform), the summer after graduating middle school had changed me into this new found hottie with a new body. Ya know how you go on summer vacation as an awkward teen and come back finer than silk?

Anyway, my grandmother was never one to shop or buy anything for us so when she called me and asked what I wanted her to buy me for school, I was happy-yet pessimistic- about requesting a pair of shoes in a size 8 1/2. A week later, I received a package from her that I was sure would be some Reebok classics or flat Mary Jane's that were hot that year (don't front like you didn't wear them with crazy socks). Instead- I pulled out some high-heeled, double strapped, white, soft 'leather-like" sneakers that resembled Air Force Ones. My Uncle K had convinced me to wear them stating that "grandma was really excited about purchasing them for me" and i should wear them to appease her. I listened to my uncle and... well, i wish i hadn't.

I started my first day at Western, an all-girl high school with the most uppity bitches Baltimore had to offer, rocking my jean skirt, jean jacket, white shirt with silver lame roses on it and... them wack ass high heeled, no- name Rainbow sneakers and striped crazy socks. Not gonna lie- I thought I was the shit! You couldn't tell me I wasn't hot shit.

Well, you couldn't but the upper classmen of Western did. All day long I heard snickers and saw the looks as I pranced around the halls in my hoodrat sneakers. It wasn't until I went to the Quad- an outdoor lounge area where Poly and Western would eat lunch- during lunch time that I realized that the looks and snickers wasn't because they thought I was hot; it was because I had made a huge mistake wearing the damn shoes.

Some flamboyant knock-off Uncle K made a statement about my fashion faux-pas that wilted my inner flower. "Who is gonna tell her that she look a hot fucking mess with that wack ass shoes, yo? Damn, you can tell freshman!"The group laughed as I walked back into the building with my head held high stomping like I was Naomi Campbell in a high-end fashion show. I found the nearest girls bathroom and balled up in the first stall and cried to high heavens. I was so damn embarrassed. I went home and chucked them ugly ass shoes right in the trash.

Ever since then, I have despised all things high-heeled that shouldn't be- including, them high heeled Timberlands that Manolo Blahnik and Beyonce had everyone wearing and re-producing.

*sigh* I took me a long time to get over that traumatizing first day but I learned a very valuable lesson NEVER ASK MY GRANDMA TO BUY ME ANYTHING AGAIN!!

Remember When You Were Young And...

1. You used to rock the fan ponytail with the scoop bang??? ( I KNOW I WAS NOT THE ONLY ONE... FESS UP)
2. You begged your mom to get you the high heeled jellies? My mom was a prude so she wanted me to have the flat ones. Me being the stubborn person that I am would not give in. Never did get those high heeled jellies.
3. You spent your only 5.00 on a Right On Magazine and put up Immature posters?