On Sundays I Hate My Dog

On Sundays I hate my dog. Like for real hate him. Like I would low-key let my 2 year old sister/cousin/niece play with him without adult supervision for 5 whole minutes as repayment for the abuse he invokes on us every Sunday.

See, On Sundays Otto thinks that he decides when to tell us to get the fuck up. And yes that’s how he says it “HUMANS, Time to GET THE FUCK UP.” And I know that that’s what he’s saying because he hops around the bed like a baby kangaroo until one of us -read AB – gets up and takes him outside. I couldn’t even tell you what time he does this except to say that it is well before 7 am. See if it happens around 7 am I’ll just cut my losses and get up. 7’s an ok time to sleep in til on the weekend. But he does his little hoppy routine, AB takes him out, and then she comes back into the room to go back to sleep.

The fact that she can go back to sleep is the reason I feel no guilt about allowing her to be the one to get up first. I don’t even blame Otto for doing his hoppy routine as he has to use the bathroom and lacks opposable thumbs to open the door for himself, but I DID buy him a whole piece of real ass grass in a box that he ignores the fuck out of, for this exact reason. BUT that first trip outside was just a warm up. He lays down until AB goes back to sleep then HE STARTS THE DAMN HOPPY ASS ROUTINE ALL OVER AGAIN!!!!!

I’m barely asleep at this point anyway since he halfway woke me up with his first routine, so at this point I usually just open one eye look down at him hopping around like a manic ass kangaroo and remind him that “It’s fucking SUNDAY.” My only semi-day off and that he’s a cute little devil. Also that God or whomever he believes in made him cute for this exact reason and that cuteness only gets you so far.

Of course he doesn’t care about any of what I’m saying. He feels no guilt. In fact, since my eye is open he triples his former hoppy ass routine and starts to bark (as much as his little ass baby puppy voice can bark) and reminds me that I wanted him and to get the fuck up so he that can go outside to play.

Finally I drag myself out of bed and move sluggishly towards the back door so that I can let him out. After I open the door I go back in and sit on the kitchen steps to monitor his playtime (he needs supervision since he likes to eat things that could kill or maim him) there is no furniture in the yard currently because of raggedy ass hurricanes. SO now I sit on the hard ass, cold ass tile floor while Otto runs around like Speedy Gonzales and stares at squirrels. I sit there until he’s had his run of eating grass and rearranging DJ’s stick pile and comes back into the house to look at me like “Ok human you may make your coffee or whatever I’m done. For NOW.”

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I do as I’m told and make myself some coffee so that I won’t kill my family in anger then climb back into bed where I am completely done with any hope of sleep. I guess staring at squirrels and eating grass are worth waking me up out of my sleep. Though, Now that I’m fully awake he climbs back into his bed and he GOES BACK TO SLEEP! His mission, to remind me why I don’t really wanna have a baby in real life, is complete. And I both appreciate this and HATE his cute little puppy face. IMG_7071.JPG

 

It’s My Birthday Bxtch!!!!!

3 years ago, and I know this because the lovely Drea did the research, I created this blog. 5 years after the Blogging boom. 8 years after my friends told me that I should pen my thoughts for the whole world to know. Obviously it took me so long because I don’t even like people that much and because I’m a procrastinating ass asshole. Also because telling the internet what I think and trying to run a business doesn’t really go together for reasons I’ll discuss below.

Here’s my disclaimer. I say things that may make you uncomfortable. If so, stop reading and don’t read anymore of my blogs but DO NOT WALK UP TO ME NEXT WEEK AND REFERENCE THIS BLOG POST. If you have thoughts post them in the comments or better yet share this shit on your Facebook post, tag me in it and tell me how you really feel. BUT don’t walk up to me in a networking meeting and ask me why I wrote what I wrote. Cause mostly:

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In honor of Authentically Adrien’s Birthday here are 30 random ass things that are on my mind. I’m going to be very transparent and vulnerable with you. You’re welcome.

1. I have word finding problems. It stresses me out beyond belief. Unless I’m writing and sometimes even while I’m writing I will give you a sentence because the one word that would suffice instead escapes me. I worry that these are the early signs of Alzheimer’s. AB and I have been together long enough for her to start unknowingly supplying me with the appropriate word. Me-  Because I don’t support what he was saying. Her- You disagree? Me- Yes.

2. Kendrick Lamar goes so HARD. #ThankMeLater

3. I haven’t been able to write since we elected Ya’ll president. (He’s NOT my president.)

4. These last few years have been REALLY difficult. Lots of ups. LOTS of downs. Today while buying groceries I overheard the salesclerk talking about how she wanted to get off of work early so that she can get her hair done for her date tonight and for more than 5 minutes I wanted “I wanna get off of work early so I can get my hair done for my date problems.” Even though I know we all have problems and I know I’m blessed. As fuck.

5. I cuss a lot. I know that makes people uncomfortable. More and more I don’t give a fuck.

6. Pockets on dresses is a gift from Gawd.

7. Look What You Made Me Do Is Trash.

8. I’m a parent and I low-key wanna have another child but mostly I don’t care for other people’s children. Some people’s children should literally be on the front of the condom box or the featured speaker for a sex ed class.

9. People don’t watch their children. That freaks me out. If we’re together and you have children chances are my pulse is on a hundred cause you’re not paying attention and doing CPR on children is my least favorite thing to do.

10. Actually hiring men who think they’re better than me who will quickly treat me like I’m invisible aka shit white men do is my least favorite thing to do.

11. Broccoli is my new anthem.

12. My grandma (I call her ma) has multiple myeloma. I’m in mourning. Last year she was walking this year she requires extensive assistance.

13. I think Iyanla Vanzant is full of shit. Needless to say she can’t fix my life.

14. IF ONE MORE PERSON TELLS ME TO APPLY FOR FOODSTAMPS IMMA SNAP. Irma didn’t effect me on that level and she probably didn’t effect you on that level either. That money is coming from somewhere. STOP. tenor-1.gif

15. The 90s were the best:

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16. I love ebonics and AAVE. Finally I’m allowing myself to love things that were created FUBU.

17. Every time DJ hears me singing Bodak Yellow he questions why I’m doing such a thing. As if 33 is old. As if the hood didn’t make me.

18. “You eat your own people while declaring a ban on cannibalism.” – Didi Delgado get to know her and #ThankMeLater.

19. I miss happy Adrien.

20.  I miss enthusiastic optimistic Adrien.

21. I’m taking The Landmark Communication Seminar soon. I know I need it in my life. I’m not looking forward to them selling me shit. EVERYBODY sells you shit. Get over it.

22. Why we selling shit, order a detail or an oil change from Unique Otto and #ThankMeLater

23. I’m really pondering changing the focus of the Blog to Business, Books, and The Boy. But I also wanna talk about what I wanna talk about when I wanna talk about it. *shrugs* First world problems.

24. “I’m prepared to die in the moment.”- Rihanna

25. The longer ya’ll president is in office the more terrified I become of white men. Being in rooms with large amounts of them is becoming immensely uncomfortable. Like, which one of these dudes in my networking meeting wants me dead or which one of these dudes in my networking meeting thinks I need to go back to Africa. Though the correct thought is how many of these dudes and not, which one.

26. My niece just told me: I’m lovely, kind, pretty, and encouraging.

27. Ashley say’s I’m beautiful.

28. Brittany says I’m hi-Fucking-larious.

I low-key needed all of those opinions. ALSO: Angela Bassett is fione. As fuck. #YoureWelcomeFullSizeRender

29. Make sure you brush you teeth at the bottom. Look in the mirror when you’re done. If there’s plaque present make a dental appointment and floss. #ThankMeLater actually #ThankABLater

30. Minding your business, not being racist, and staying hydrated are all free.

 

Cheers to 3 more years of me telling ya’ll my business on the internet and ya’ll letting me. I love ya’ll. All ya’ll.

 

 

 

5 Reasons Why I HATE Hair Salons AKA Why I Went Natural.

If you google the phrase “why I went natural” you will find 100s of women of color giving you all sorts of reasons from the fact that the perm never took, to the fact that it burned, or in some cases thinned many a woman’s hair to nothingness. Those snatchback ponytails that many people make fun of are in direct correlation to the thinning effect of lye and no lye perms alike.

But my reason; I hate Hair salons. 

Here are my 5 Reasons why:

  1. The smell of the chemicals make me sick to my stomach. I spend the majority of my time in the salon with my hand over my mouth trying both not to throw up and to decrease the amount of noxious smells I inhale during my service.                                                                                         200.gif
  2. Stylists never seem to value your time. They consistently seem to fill the room with more people than they can handle at one time. Which forces you to either run late for future appointments or to block off the rest of your life while you sit in a chair waiting 84 years later for your 10 am appointment.                                                                200w.gif3. THOSE DAMN DRYERS DON’T DRY MY HAIR. If I added up all of the time that I’ve spent sitting under a dryer waiting for my hair to dry I’m certain it would be equal to like 6 years. The worst part is when the stylist walks over to check your hair giving you false hope that it’s finally dry after 3.5 hours only to tell you that you need to sit there for another 30 mins… 1 hour…10 weeks…25 years.  So all of these videos of people having fun sitting under dryers is NOT TRUE. Destiny’s Child and Bruno Mars lied to you!!!!
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  3. I don’t care about other people’s business and sitting around in a salon listening to people complain about their lives or talk about how their best friend’s baby may or may not be the Mailman’s is not how I prefer to spend my days. 200-2.gif
  4. I don’t enjoy Wendy Williams, The Real, TMZ, or any of the other celebrity gossip shows that all stylists seem to love to watch while they torture your hair in to perfectly pretty submission.  It does something to my soul to be forced to listen to people gossip about people and the damn paparazzi pictures drive me crazy. I’m not sure why this is a thing we as society loves so much that daytime telivision is full of options but I can definitely do without ever hearing Wendy the idiot Williams ever say “How You DOehn” ever again in life.                                               200-3.gif

 

So those are some of the reasons why I went natural. Now I only have to see my stylist every 5-6 weeks to retighten my sisterlocks and for the most part I don’t have to deal with any of the reasons I’ve listed above.

Randomosity 1.15.17

My right hand is itching. According to my grandma that means that I’m going to get some unexpected money. I’m all about that life.

Last night  I gave the Mohegan Sun 6 x more money than I’d budgeted. I’d do it all over again to sit next to my grandma, listen to her throw shade, and laugh at the world. Operation come to CT at least every other month is shaping up to be the best money and time I’ve ever spent.

I’ve worked most of the time that I’ve been in CT. At my grandma’s dining room table while watching her shows and laughing at her antics. As difficult as it is being an entrepreneur, being in charge of my time is worth all of the stress and early mornings.

Yesterday was my publisher’s monthly conference call. I leave those calls knowing that I chose the right publishing house and grateful that they chose me.

The next book that I publish I’m hiring a social media manager. I know that I am in my own way as far as promoting my book is concerned. The nerves that come with the creation of each post are worse than the ones I felt when I used to slam in competitions.

Decisions are made by those who show up.

Every time I’m around a bunch of children I remember that one is enough. I have no idea how people have more than one. I give people with a bunch of kids all of the kudos. And wine subscriptions. I’m sure they need wine more than they need diapers.

2017 is shaping up to be the best year of my life. #ClaimingIt
My book is being released on January 27th. That’s legit less than two weeks away. You can preorder it here: Vital Narrative Press

Randomness 11.15.16

Thoughts while sweeping up the sugar that someone, an adult, has wasted on the floor of my shop.

If I waste something in public, be it wet or dry, I always at the very least, attempt to clean it up.

At restaurants I stack my plates and sweep the trash onto the top one. To make it easier for the server or the bus person.

I usually over tip because I value other people’s time and energy.

I say please and thank you.

I value the people who work at the Drive Thru as much as I value the people who work in the White House, probably more. Cause you know, true love and respect should always start at home.

I believe in God, and Allah, and Buddah, and The Universe, and and and. I believe in other people’s belief that for them there is no Higher Power. sugar-06.jpg

I have never had an abortion but I believe that other people should decide whether they want to have one or not.

I don’t look down on people who need to utilize government assistance.

I chalk many things up to other people’s cultural norms. For example, some people don’t believe that any price is set in stone. I know people who bargain at Macy’s up north. Trying that in Tampa… Good luck.

I have met very bad people from many different places and many different races. The same for good.

I don’t believe that America was ever “Great” for everyone but I believe that it can get there. Starting with maybe sweeping the sugar that you wasted on the floor of a store, or saying hi without someone having to say it first, or not trying to push your mores, values and beliefs onto other people, or  just realizing that everyone does things differently and that they deserve respect for that.

Gratitude List 10.13.16

  1. My alarm sounds like the theme music from from a nineties video game. When it goes off AB complains that it is not soothing enough. I tell her that I don’t care. She proceeds to jump around our bedroom as if she is Mario from Super Mario Brothers making the noises, acting as if she ate a mushroom and has grown, and just being an all around character. A. She taught me to not care about certain things. B. I wish to be as free as she is but just watching her be free is plenty good for me. For now.
  2. Darian is oversleeping in his bedroom which is next to ours. He is alive, loved, and comfortable.
  3. Snapchat, it’s filters, my best friend’s stories.
  4. My mother’s hilarity and our text messages.
  5. On Sunday my father kissed my cheek and refrained from lecturing me on how to lose weight. I’m losing it. I obviously have it covered. I think he gets that.
  6. Today is the first day of my writer’s retreat. I plan to write, and write, and write, and write. With a little editing and planning thrown in for balance.
  7. My grandmother is alive she has lived through so many things and I’m getting better at preparing myself for when she is ready to be done with this earth.
  8. Friends who come to your job just to hug you and kiss your cheeks. Those are the best kinds.
  9. Cyn. Mystical, Warrior, Woman; full of grace and knowledge.
  10. That gospel song that goes “Woke me up this morning started me on my way.” that one. That happened.
  11. Love. It’s all we need.

How You Learn To Hate Yourself or When I Realized That My Lips Were Big

So I just posted a selfie on IG and when I looked at it I realized how large my lips were. Funny thing: I have never thought that my lips were large. I’ve never paid them any attention except to apply some Chapstick. If you know me you know lipstick is such a rare occasion that I don’t even own any.

Anyways, I never thought of how large my lips were until there was this huge racist uproar on MAC Cosmetics IG. And even then I didn’t say anything. I guess I just sort of absorbed it.

That selfie made me think of all of the parts of my body that I’ve thought were too much. And when exactly that happened, like my breasts… They became too large when it was cooler to have smaller perky breasts. Anything larger than a hand full was too much. That’s what the media has shown us for so long. Until getting larger boobs became a thing. Even then the media loves those perky fake ones over us heavy full breasted girls.

I know I know you’re like Adrien what are you talking about but this is how women especially black women begin to internalize hatred for aspects of themselves. I don’t hate my lips but now I know that they’re large. *shrugs* Now I know they match my Michael Jackson Nose.

Also,  I keep seeing my “social media friends” mention how they are so over the talk about racism and this and that and why don’t black people get over things that happened in the past.

Sidebar: Acknowledge your privilege. You can turn it off.

But the reason we can’t just get over it, whatever IT is, is because the past is today. It’s because being a black woman in America means that at any given moment a portion of your body can become unacceptable, too much, and ugly while it is lauded and applauded after someone else purchases it.

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