Sunday, March 29, 2009

Monk And Me

I have a crush on Tony Shaloub. You know, the actor who plays Monk. I'm sad the show is ending this year. I still get my fix during the day-long marathons on USA. I do feel sorry for Sharona and Natalie sometimes when they have to deal with Monk's OCD.

OCD is a serious, debilitating mental disorder. But the term has leaked into everyday language to describe minor quirks. What are you OCD about? 

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Too Much To Handle

Maybe I'm just a pervert, but when I meet someone new my mind runs on sex at some point. Even when I'm not sexually attracted to them, I'll wonder what their sex life is like or how they even manage to have sex. The former and latter refers to fat people. I'm talking waddling-not-walking fat and things-getting-lost-on-your-body fat. Do they have sex? With that extra weight, what are the mechanics like? I couldn't be with a person where we have to lift parts of their body out of the way (an episode of Inside Brookhaven Obesity Clinic had a shower scene that amazed me). Even someone who isn't morbidly obese, are their sexual positions limited? How easy is it for them to masturbate?

Friday, March 27, 2009

I Survived Craigslist

I used to meet folks off CL (circa 2005). Either I posted an ad or answered ads in "strictly platonic", "women seeking men" or "men seeking women". I was depressed and seeking something. I started to notice it was the same people posting ads and answering, repeatedly. Maybe they hadn't found a victim yet(victim in any sense of the word). A reporter on WABC radio was murdered after posting an ad for rough sex on craigslist (I'm assuming under "casual encounters"). The teen who answered his ad had a MySpace page that showcased his love of knifes (he stabbed the reporter 50 times) and sadomasochist view and lifestyle.

When I used CL, I googled people all the time. That's just my need to know what's what and who's who and how shit's supposed to go down. Any emails from anonymous addresses like "" or "" got no response. After the 3rd or 4th time of getting an email, it was an automatic delete. The circumstances of the reporter's murder probably surprised those close to him who had no clue of his "other" life. The internet makes it easy to hide behind a computer screen. The internet also puts everything out there; just takes a little digging sometimes. I always do my research.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Master Or Mistress

Disclaimer: If you enter into a committed monogamous relationship, you owe it to your partner and yourself to remain that way. If the relationship goes sour and it's not worth saving, then move on. Open relationships or non-exclusive relationships are just that, open. 

It happened to me twice; I got involved with a married man. I say it that way because I didn't know they were married when we first got involved and when I found out, I didn't move at lightning speed to end contact with them. I was pissed. They weren't honest with me like I was with them. One waited until things got hot and heavy and then decided they really liked me and should tell me the truth. After that experience, I've been on guard. So the second guy, I had to ask. He wasn't going to tell me. When I did ask, that scared him off. He didn't answer the question just walked away, literally. Two things he wanted to know as he was walking out the door were, was I going to kick him and if I was going to protest (meaning stop having sex with him). Looking back, I think he felt that was his only recourse in what he perceived to be a power struggle; end it with her before she ends it with me (this is my hindsight insight).

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Hunger Pangs

Every other Wednesday, my mother volunteers at a food pantry in Gwinnett County. I was supposed to go with her today, but that didn't happen. I was interested in seeing what sort of people relied on food pantries in this economy. The food pantry I was to visit today opened only a year ago. Right down the road is a much larger one run by the local church. The fact that both of them are necessary says volumes. I even benefited from one when I wasn't even seeking the help. I was touched on two levels; surprise and gratitude.

One day I went to MetroTech to see if there was a deferment plan I could sign up for to pay my Con Ed bill. The faceless customer service rep on the other end of the phone told me about the Energy Share program offered by Con Ed. They give grants (free money!) of up to $250 for utility bills. I didn’t know this program existed. There are quite a few programs designed to help people in need. It’s unfortunate that those who really need the help aren’t aware of these programs and aren’t benefiting. There was the usual run around – Con Ed gave me a number to call for Energy Share. The automated voice at that number gave me the addresses and numbers of community centers that you have to visit to apply for the grant…

After applying for the Energy Share grant, the social worker(?) asked if I wanted food from the pantry. She probably noticed the thought process going on in my head, because she shrugged and said, “Why not? It’s free. Take it.” Honestly, I assumed I had to be “down and out” to use a food pantry, not be able to afford food or with babies to feed and what not. There’s no application process for that, but you do have to sign for the food. Once you’ve signed up, you can visit 6 times a year. I don’t know if those same rules apply to all pantries. I left there hoping I’d get my Con Ed bill taken care of and two bags of groceries.

In this economy, two income families are falling behind on bills and food pantries are the only option to put at least one meal on the table or just a way to limit the grocery bill so that money can go towards something else. There are tent cities popping up everywhere due to rising numbers of people losing their homes. Donate to your local food pantry. They accept monetary donations and canned and dry goods. Also consider volunteering your time to distribute food or do inventory. There are even pet food pantries popping up…

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Why Try Bi

My personal belief is homosexuality is not a choice. It's how you're born; you either are or you aren't. I love the differences in people and learning about them and what makes them tick, how they think. It's also accepted that women's sexuality is fluid. More women are prone to be bisexual (I'm referring to the sexual not the emotional in this piece) but it's not every woman. It's not me. My number is not 3 on the Kinsey scale. If one more man asks me to be with a woman for their enjoyment or is just amazed at the fact that I've never been with another woman, I will scream. I'm not hardwired that way. I don't have the desire to please a woman sexually. When I watch girl-on-girl porn (which I enjoy), I become aroused and then either want to masturbate or be with a man. Lesbians obviously sense this in me because they don't hit on me. I don't even think they notice me. And it makes sense, they want to be with a woman who likes women. I can look at another woman, be nude with her, find her sexy and attractive and beautiful yet the urge to kiss her and touch her just isn't there.

What annoys me even more is that it's expected of me, or women, in general. There are men who won't even let a woman near their assholes because they think "it's gay", but I'm supposed to lick another woman's pussy? If I kept asking you, "you never sucked your boy's dick?" or "you never let him jerk you off?" you'd be pissed off. If I tried to arrange something, invited you guys over, cooked some food and figured we could pop a bottle and I'd get to referee a swordfight, you'd want to punch me in my face. I'm not going to get drunk and make out with a girl. The guys who have pleaded for a threesome expect me and the other woman to be with each other (I won't get into the fact that not too many men can handle and actually satisfy two women). When I'm in a threesome with two men, I don't expect the guys to do anything with one another. So why is it expected of me? I'm a very sexual woman and I think men are drawn to that; they can smell it. My sexual openness, erotic creativity, experimental ways and past experiences would have one assume I've been with a woman, but if I've told you it's never happened and I have no desire to force the issue, stop asking. Common sense would tell you that I could easily have been with a woman if I was so inclined considering said previous experiences. So to all those fellas who still don't get it, go give one of your boys an open mouth kiss then come talk to me.

Monday, March 23, 2009

What Obama Didn't Say

Did Obama really have to apologize for making a self-deprecating joke about his bowling skills? He made the joke, the audience laughed. Why did the audience laugh? Because it was funny. Would athletes in the Special Olympics be allowed to compete against Usain Bolt or Shawn Johnson of the "Un-Special" Olympics? No, because the point of the Special Olympics is to allow disabled individuals (physically disabled, handicapped, mentally disabled, retarded, pick a word) to compete against people of similar skill levels. He may have even boosted the morale of some Special Olympians by equating himself with them, or implying that they could slaughter him in a game of bowling. Obama was not trying to insult anyone with the comment.

What's important is what Obama hasn't talked about. I am bothered by the fact that neither Obama or anyone from his administration (to my knowledge) has made a comment about the now infamous cartoon from the NY Post. For all intents and purposes, that was Obama in that cartoon, depicted as a chimp lying in a pool of blood with two bullet holes in it's chest. Obama has been a very vocal president. Any chance he got/gets he was/is calling a press conference to tackle the issue of the day. That NY Post cartoon was a major issue - the cartoon itself as well as the underlying issue it addressed - race. Could it be that Obama and/or his administration didn't want to say anything about the cartoon because it could be misconstrued as giving "the others" too much power? Was it not important? Ignore it and it goes away? It's not going to go away; "it" being the issue of race. Race is a major divisive issue in this nation. The height of the Civil Rights Movement was only 40 years ago. If race wasn't issue, it wouldn't matter that Obama got elected. His inauguration wouldn't have had historic attendance records and the television and internet viewing ratings. It wouldn't matter that Michelle Obama is the first Black First Lady. His ability to play basketball and his inability to dance wouldn't be a topic of discussion. His being president has the term "Black Love" being thrown around with abandon. 

I hope Obama can make all the positive changes on his agenda; repair the economy, reform the health care system, "green" the nation's major and minor industries etc and the fact that he's a Black man doing it, is an issue. Mr. President, we have to talk.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Eaten Alive

Oral sex is a fun, bonding activity. For me, it is a necessity. It is always part of the act of sexual congress in which I partake. When I lost my virginity, the guy spent a great deal of gentle, satisfying time down there. So that’s all I know – sex with an appetizer. I won’t accept anything less.

However, I’m sure I’m speaking directly to a woman out there who has been victim to the partner whose main objective is to
actually remove the clitoris from your body and consume it. They, in fact, are out to eat your pussy. Now, how do we protect ourselves in these situations, or thwart attacks all together? It’s hard to size up your opponent on some occasions. He may be a wonderful, spry kisser and then get down there and try to devour you. Once an attack as started how can you ensure survival? You can try silence. Don’t moan, gasp , coo, nothing. Hearing no cries of passion may clue the eater to the fact that it doesn’t feel good and they should try something else. Unfortunately, this technique can backfire if it spurs more fervent eating in an attempt to elicit moans.

His physical assault may warrant a physical attack of your own. Many have attempted to crush the skull between the thighs. A more diplomatic technique is to apply firm pressure to the forehead with the heel of your palm in a downward and outward motion. This should command their attention at which point you can redirect them. If that doesn’t work and the forehead thrust is mistaken for “oh, that feels so good she can’t take no more”, next step is to close up shop. To complete this maneuver, begin with the forehead thrust, lift one leg over the head of your assailant and place it on your other leg, sealing the thighs shut. It is also suggested that you scoot your hips away to remove the clamburger from view.

If you have any lifesaving tips, please share. No one wants to be human prey. The previous tips, as well as your input, can save a sister from being eaten alive.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Brazilian Outlaw

Does this border on genital mutilation? A procedure that can rip off skin and lead to infection and hospitalization. In New Jersey, the Cosmetology and Hairstyling Board considered banning the Brazilian wax because two women were injured recently. They’ve decided not to pursue the ban because salon owners complained of a loss of business for the upcoming summer months. A Brazilian wax isn’t actually allowed under law (genital waxing is the term on the books), but like most things, under the somewhat watchful eye of Big Brother it slipped through the cracks.

Have you ever had a Brazilian wax? I’ve never even waxed my legs. Shaving and depilatory creams are my modus operandi and I can get my area smooth as the day I was born. Depending on when we meet, I may be sporting the complete spit shine or it’ll be prickly stubble. The sides will be bare so there’s nothing reaching out from the sides of my underwear and everything else will be trimmed low. Or I do the top heavy, naked lip look. Landing strips have never been my thing and you won’t catch me dying my pubes either. Cleanliness and comfort are my main objectives. No need to be in pain to acquire it either. There isn’t any beauty regimen I undergo that’s excruciating (I’m not very girlie, anyway). 

To wax or not to wax (or “shave”). Every one has a preference. Some men like their woman to have pubic hair so they feel like they’re with a woman and not a child. Then again others like the totally bare look so they can see everything and crave the youthful look of no pubic hair. Does your partner like when you’re waxed? Do they even care? To undergo the pain of the Brazilian wax – is it worth it?

Friday, March 20, 2009

Last In Line

I traveled to Atlanta yesterday to surprise my mother for her birthday. There was a little turbulence as we approached. Atlanta was trying to spit me out before I even landed. The birthday surprise went off without a hitch. I just showed up at the house. No crazy jumping out from around a corner yelling “surprise” or anything, but I walked in behind my brother (he’s big enough to hide behind) and when he casually dropped my name in conversation, I appeared.

Back to my airport mini-experience… I had my boarding pass already printed out. I wheeled on past the TSA drop-off and onto the security checkpoint. Showed my ID, everything checked out and I stood in one of the many lines like cattle. We took off our shoes, emptied pockets regurgitated, whatever was asked of us. I get up front and the guy tells me my bag is too big and I’ll have to check it in. First, I’m annoyed because I’ll have to PAY for that. Second, I have to go back and wait on another line to get my bag weighed, tagged and PAY for it.

“Why’d she let me through then?” I complained. Like I said, I wheeled past the agent with the bag. I had to stop in front of her, dig out my ID etc. There were security guards right by her too. No one knew my bag was too big?

The metal detector reader guy said he would take care of me personally. He walked me back out, asked the boarding pass checker lady why she let me through in the first place. Anyway, I get on the line for baggage check-in. 10:30. My flight is at 11:18. I got quick feet so I aint too worried about it yet. 10:48. Still getting my bag checked in. It was probably sitting on the scale for 10 minutes before the agent started attending to me. I get tagged, drop off my bag at TSA and then have to go back to the boarding pass checker lady who makes a half-statement, half-question about me being through already. When I get to the security checkpoint, there’s a woman with her daughter and just me on the line. The metal detector reader guy who said he would take care of me, of course, was nowhere to be found. I put my jacket, bag, cell phone, money and my little card carrier wallet type thing in the bin with my sneakers. They breezed on through. I set off the alarm.

“Got anything in your pockets? Maybe it’s your earrings, jewelry…” The metal detector lady says.

While I de-jewel, I another woman joined the line. I sent her ahead of me. Now I was the last in line. In a smaller bin, I place my earrings, my watch and my little Carmex jar. They’re all clear for take-off. I set off the alarm again.

“Anything hidden in your hair?” she asks. I said no, but found myself actually feeling around in my afro.

“Your belt?”

I lifted my shirt and showed my belt. The buckle is metal so I had to go back and take off my belt. Now my pants are sagging, showing off my period panties that I swear were up at my belly button. Since when do I wear my underwear that high?

Finally, no beep. I think I deserved a round of applause from the 7 agents that were there. Now I had to get dressed for the 2nd and a half time that day. I get to gate B7. Wow, no line! That’s because everyone was already on the plane.

An older couple was in the same row as me and Gramps sat in my window seat that I PAID for. They were gonna move but once the plane took off I would find another seat. A guy across the aisle asked if I wanted a window seat. I said yes, flashed my smile and ended up in the seat I was originally gonna choose online but didn’t because I wanted to be on the right side of the plane. Whatever, I got a window seat!

We had to wait a bit to take off because they changed our runway. That news didn’t sound so bad coming from a pilot who sounded like a very attractive man. I read the in-flight magazine and watched the other planes take-off. That is such a sexy sight. That lean soon after they take off – they dip one wing and turn. We were second to last in line; Air Canada was behind us. There was a light rain when we took off and the sky was free off all geese.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Bear Market

This has nothing to do with the stock market. Not directly anyway. But due to the state of the economy, many Americans are planning camping/hiking vacations. National and State Parks have reported a high number of reservations being made. I’d love to go camping, to be in nature and just experience the ever-shrinking, untouched wilderness.

However, more people camping means the possibility of more human-bear interactions. There’s also the chance of more bear attacks. Bears don’t just attack because we’re there. But a mother grizzly bear can become suicidal-aggressive to protect her young. Black bears are perpetually hungry. That coupled with conditioning can cause attacks. First, they feed on scraps left behind at campsites. They then visit the campsites while humans are there and equate people with food. If the bear ever attacks, it becomes a human = food equation. 

So let’s go hiking. It can still be a wonderful event without any close encounters with bears. There are certain things we should know. While hiking, keep talking. The noise will alert the bear that you’re nearby. Bears usually stay clear of humans and females will want to keep their cubs away from any possible dangers. Every one in your party should have bear spray and know how to use it. During a bear attack is not the time to try to learn or read instructions. If you do come face-to-face with a bear (or any predator) never turn your back. You instinctively become prey and there’s a good chance you’ll become one with the earth soon after. Once an attack as started, here are some possible scenarios. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins and you fight back. A wounded bear becomes more aggressive. So if you shoot, make sure you take the bear out. Bears will fight to the death. Next scenario, you decide to play dead. This can work when up against a mother grizzly. Her attack was predicated on eliminating a threat to her cubs. If you remain absolutely still and absolutely quiet, she may perceive the threat as gone and slowly move on. However, black bears have been known to start eating their prey alive.

There’s strength in numbers. Bears are solitary creatures. So always camp or hike in a group. These are just pointers to know IF you encounter a bear. By no means should you cancel your trip or remain prisoner in the concrete jungle. Visiting nature will hopefully give you a greater appreciation for it and inspire you and others to preserve it.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Playing To The Death

In college, I wrote a paper on violence in sports. It was for one of my sport “theory” classes (Sport Psychology, Principles of Coaching, I don’t quite remember) but in the paper, I discussed parents gone wild, the jail in the old Veterans Stadium for unruly fans, hockey goons and soccer hooligans. Players against players, fans against fans, fans against players; it’s a never ending battle. According to reports yesterday, an Iraqi player was shot dead on the field as he was about to kick what could’ve been a game tying goal. In most of the world, football is life. I’m not condoning the senseless murder at all, but this was coming, at some point at some stadium. The Iraqi national team doesn’t even live or practice in Iraq for security reasons. Is this just Iraq’s problem? I don’t think so. 

I’ll be rooting for Nigeria and Jamaica as well as my adopted nations of Italy, Brazil and Argentina in the World Cup 2010. South Africa will host. I wonder what sort of security measures they will implement. With the world watching, will everyone be on their best behavior or is the world stage the time to act out or “make a statement”? In Beijing this past summer, there are folks who never made it home when all they wanted to do was witness dramatic Olympic moments. Those unfortunate deaths weren’t the work of terrorists, neither was the incident in Iraq. In recent years, focus has been on thwarting terrorism and rightly so, but we can’t forget the passionate, enraged little guy who can cause big problems.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Stay Home, Raggedy Andy

It’s been a year since my last truly good date. What made it such a good date was he was a gentleman and treated me like a lady. He took into account what I liked (food), what he liked (alcohol and live music), my willingness to try new things and my appreciation for the finer things in life. Since then, I’ve been out with other dudes, but not sure I’d call them "dates" in the true sense of the word.

Friday night, I was in Williamsburg at Sea. I swear I was in the Meatpacking district – the patrons, the décor, the menu, the waiters. The restaurant was packed and there was definite out-to-have-a-good-time vibes all around. As I was done with dinner, I was angered beyond belief. A couple was waiting for our table. I didn’t even notice the woman first but I noticed the guy in a workout vest over a t-shirt with track pants and sneakers. They shouldn’t have let him in the door of the establishment, but I’m not management. Then I see the woman he’s with – wearing a dress, hair and makeup all done up looking very classy. She was dressed for a date on a Friday night. He looked like he just came from the gym or something.

Fellas (this goes to my friends, brothers, future dates), don’t ever show up dressed like that, ever. And if it’s a Friday or Saturday night (an obvious date night) you should know better. I consider it a slap in the face and lack of pride in yourself. I went on a blind date (hold your comments please), on a Wednesday night and this dude did the same t-shirt and track pants look. He was coming from home! And told me he didn’t work that day! Then had to nerve to try to hold my hand as we headed to the restaurant! On top of that, he was short. I’m 5’2”. He was shorter than me.

My experience that was similar to that poor woman at Sea took place in the summer 2007 (yes, it’s still fresh in my memory). Saturday night, reservations were made at Rosa Mexicano in Union Square. I don’t wear dresses, but to a wedding, graduation etc, I’ll suck it up and show off my legs. That night, I wore my green and black polka dot camisole top. No bra. My perky girls were doing their thing. Black boot cut jeans and sandals. At the time, I had my two-strand twist extensions, so my hair was looking
right, and I had on great earrings. I didn’t go into this date expecting a love connection or hookup. It was an introduction to New York City for this guy and he was eager to go out on Saturday in the “cool part of town”. We met at the restaurant. He was at the bar. Every woman gives a man the once over in a split second when they meet. I had seen him two times before this. We hung out, had dinner after work at a more casual restaurant, walked through SoHo, across the Brooklyn Bridge (I was in full tour guide mode) then had ice cream at Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory. He was always dressed appropriately; after all, he was in his work clothes. Lawd Jesus mi shoulda deh deh wen im put on im cloze. He wore a grey long sleeve t-shirt, jeans and white sneakers (definitely older than a year).

I’m gonna stop there. What more is there to say? All I’m saying is please dress the part. You don’t have to be a GQ man or have your clothes fitted at Brooks Brothers for a date but please put in some effort or someone else may be blogging about your raggedy ass.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

By The Skin Of Your Teeth

Those 1-800-DENTIST commercials are so annoying. I can’t stand that woman who rides in the elevator and just antagonizes that man. The next commercial they air should show her teeth falling out of her mouth. The reason I bring this up is because I watched an episode of 
Spin City. Remember that show? They don’t make shows like that anymore; intelligent, well written, with a great cast and the characters they portray. Anyway, in my fatigue haze on Saturday morning, I watched the episode where Charlie tried to convince the Mayor to go to the dentist to get his chipped tooth fixed. But his tooth wasn’t chipped before he went to his 90-year old dentist, who later dropped dead during the visit. The ticking clock was the Mayor was scheduled to participate in a new tourism campaign for New York – Smile New York – and would have to smile proudly at the press conference. Charlie saves the day by bringing in a hockey team to smile alongside the Mayor, with their missing teeth and all to showcase smiles, like New York City, with its imperfections.

I think teeth are very important. It’s unfortunate that many people simply can’t afford dental care. I hope affordable dental insurance falls under the health care reform we’re after. By 2010, more cities in the US will have fluoridated water. On the level of vanity, do a person’s teeth make or break it for you? What imperfections do you find kinda cute? What are you willing to tolerate? Just like personality quirks slight dental imperfections make each of us individual. That one tooth that grew in front of all the others an overbite or the more famous gap can be very endearing and character defining. I notice teeth when I meet a person. If they’re amazingly straight and white, I stare. If they’re all pointing in different directions, an unusual color or not all there, I stare. You know you’ve met that person who could kill you with their smile…

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Earl of Bread and Meat

Apparently I’m not a purist because I hate rye bread. Pastrami too (was watching 
Sandwich Paradise on Travel Channel). But I love a good sandwich. Man, I’ve been eating sandwiches forever! Aint nothing like a good PB & J. I’m a chunky peanut butter gal. Last year, I ate at Peanut Butter and Co. for the first time for an article I wrote for NY Resident Magazine

Then there’s the other go-to mainstay, a tuna fish sandwich. I don’t eat tuna fish sandwiches from restaurants or delis. Just can’t do it. But after I drain the can, I add some ranch dressing or honey mustard, mix and eat. Simple, and I use the entire can in my sandwich. 

During junior high school, I think I raised myself on ham and cheese, lettuce and tomato, mayo on one side. I remember shopping trips with my mother and we’d get a ham and Swiss from Blimpie. I’m not a fan of wet sandwiches, but I had to have the oil and vinegar running down my knuckles as it dripped off the curved ends of the raw onions. My tastes have matured and the combination of the different hams (or turkey) and cheeses from around the world, never gets old. And that shredded iceberg you get from the deli has been replaced with mesclun greens. 

Meatball subs turn me off. Just the sight of them. As does the thought of eating a Reuben – sauerkraut and corned beef? Not to mention that bread (see opening statement) But I do like a good pizza burger. Don’t get me started on burgers…

I made a great sandwich for lunch today! It started with a chicken cutlet that I seasoned with salt, black pepper, paprika, garlic, cilantro and parsley. A quick searing on extremely high heat to seal in the juices, then I lower the heat and cover. Juiciest chicken ever. While that’s cooking, I cut my rolls open and put it on the burner, high flame, about 10 seconds each side. When I’m almost ready to take the chicken off the heat, I lay a slice (or 2) of gouda or muenster cheese on the chicken, just until it starts to get soft, not to the melting point. That chicken & cheese combo goes right from the flame to the bun, cradled by a bed of crisp lettuce. Chilled salsa is scooped onto the chicken. It’s the juiciest, freshest, flavorful sandwich with a little bit of spice and char from the bun, the hot and cold dancing provocatively in my mouth. Dee-Lish! This sandwich can also be prepared with those burger patty-sized portabella mushrooms for my vegetarian comrades. My kitchen is always open.

Friday, March 13, 2009


Yesterday I met a friend for lunch in Tribeca. I traveled comfortably on the train with a light midday crowd. I got cozy in my seat and went about watching the people and reading the ads. I was amused by an ad for FlatRate movers – a checklist for moving to the West Village. Then I saw a Dr. Zizmor ad and I said to myself I would try to get a free consultation (it is a recession and I’d use my writer credentials) and I’d like to see if Dr. Zizmor is a real person. 

This afternoon, March 13th, I was on my way to a TD Bank branch to cash in some change. It took me a while to realize it because I was sitting in a different spot but I was in the same car I was in yesterday! I saw the Dr. Zizmor ad again. Then I saw the FlatRate ad and ads for 1-800-IMMIGRATION and 1-800-INNOCENT from the day before. Looking down the car, I saw I was in car number 6636. That couldn’t be, I thought. Yesterday, after a quick walk through Tribeca to walk off lunch, I rode in the car 6639. Groups of subway cars are usually sequential. Was it possible that this was the same exact train I rode yesterday, twice? Now that group of cars was in the front, headed uptown, and in the back, headed downtown. When I got off the train, sure enough, three cars away was car number 6639.

The reason I remember I rode home yesterday in car 6639 is because I had to read those numbers to the conductor through the emergency intercom when this young woman collapsed while having a seizure. It felt good that I knew what to do, while other passengers were loud and panicky or scared silent. Her eyes never closed during the seizure. I looked into her eyes, waiting for the seizure to end. Her face and expression are burned into my brain. One minute she was “looking” at me and totally out of it, next minute, she saw me. A faint smile came over her face. I started talking to her, she insisted she was ok, her pale lips and very slow, heavy blinks said otherwise. She knew what day of the week it was, where she was going before the seizure and told me that had never happened to her before. Another guy kept talking to her and cracking jokes, probably out of his own nervousness or his inner Dr. Hibbert. And she kept looking at me. Maybe it was the bright red jacket, the big afro puff, or my insistence that she go to the hospital. I think the questions I asked her made her realize I knew what I was talking about. Just like that, the train pulled into the next station and she was whisked away.

My last three consecutive rides on the IRT were on the same train, twice in the same car. I’m not a gambling woman (with money) but I knew even before I told my mother the story, she’d tell me to play those numbers. When I got back to my neighborhood from the bank, I stopped to buy some lotto. If it aint scratch-off or Mega Millions quick pick, I’m clueless. I do know there’s a game where you pick four numbers so that’s the one I bought. Then the vendor starts asking me if I want 50-50 box or straight or something else I don’t remember – like he was an auctioneer. I told him I didn’t know what he meant and that I wanted two dollars. And as I’m writing this, I just realized the numbers – 9, 6, and 3 on 3-12-09 and 3-13-09. Freaky. Friday the 13th.

Coming To Break You Off

Apparently, outside of dolphins, humans are the only species to have sex for recreation; we don’t have a set “mating season”. That probably would eliminate a lot of problems, but I digress...

So we have sex for fun; it feels good, relieves stress and gives skin that unbelievable glow, forms bonds, starts wars, and usually ends in orgasm(s). And we all know there are different types of O’s – vaginal, clitoral, anal, nipple. Some cause creamy ooze (male and female), others, waterfalls or high-powered hoses (Cytherea). Some anal orgasms are so intense the anus prolapses. That can be a scary sight and for some engaging in sexual congress, that’s actually the goal. Usually this all starts with kissing. The lips are very sensitive because they have a lot of nerve endings. During a kiss, all your senses are being used; you see your partner, taste them, smell them, touch them, hear them. Testosterone is coursing through the veins increasing sexual desires. After you’ve suckled the neck, you move to the breasts. There is direct nerve connection between the nipple and clit/penis, so that explains why getting your nipples played with or sucked “just right” can send a charge down your belly and cause a tingle in your pants. Nipple orgasms are possible through sex or breast-feeding and men are also capable of reaching nipple orgasms.

Now the road to that orgasm is one that is different for everyone. Your upbringing, past traumas or delights and physiological hardwiring all determine what gets you off. There’s the guy who can only get off when his partner gives him head with a finger in the back door. Men are visual, but remember the dude who 
had to have the lights on every time? The next guy you dated had to have his nipples twiddled and diddled. One of the rules is, if you wanna keep your man, better open your mouth. But your partner, you’ll never get oral sex from, ever. And let’s not forget the guy who only gets and maintains an erection if you kiss him. Don’t try to suck him, don’t try to give him a handjob, cause it aint gonna happen. I’m sure there are women out there who like to be bitten and choked or stuffed elbow deep, but when is weird too weird? What is a fetish? Are fetishes only “physical” in nature? What is your fetish?

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Let It Snow

New York City, March 2, 2009, 20 degree weather with single digit wind chills and a foot of snow. March 7, 2009, near 70 degree weather. Something ain’t right. I love spring and summer-like weather in the spring and summer. But if folks don’t think global warming is for real, they really need to open their eyes. Humans can be quite a selfish species. And because of that we alter the environment to suit us instead of respecting Mother Nature. 

During the storm on March 2, I took a trip to the park. At one point, those wicked winds picked up, snow started blowing and caused snow blindness. In all that howling wind, there was an eerie silence. There is something so resolute and absolute about nature; a power that we need to respect. Ducks fly south for the winter because it’s too cold. The largest mammal on this planet, the Blue Whale, travels to warmer waters in the winter. Bears (the most famous of the hibernators) just say, “Fuck it, it’s too cold. I’ll see you in the spring.” Animals adapt to their environment. They don’t rip it up and spit it out. The unnatural presence of humans in certain environments has grave effects on ecosystems. We sterilize deer so Bambi won’t go bounding throw backyards that we took from them. Dogs are emasculated and turned into bed-sleeping, sweater-wearing, look-at-me-I’m-in-a-handbag, gourmet-food-eating bitches. Fish are gnawing at transoceanic cables because they’re mistaken for food. I want my children to know what a polar bear or a tiger is and not just from photos. I don’t want my melanin-rich children to add to the increasing numbers of skin cancer cases due to the massive hole in the ozone layer that keeps gaping like a….. (I’ll stop there)

Global warming doesn’t just mean we’ll sizzle to death. Global warming means more hurricanes, tornados, tsunamis or wildfires. Remember El Niño? Mild winters may be arctic winters or 50 degree summers. Sea levels will continue to rise and obliterate coastal cities. We won’t need another Katrina to flood New Orleans. Steps are being made to go green and we all, as a race, species, family, genus, whatever word you wanna use, need to be smarter and more conscientious in how we treat the earth. Or don’t we care? Is this why there’s been a sudden interest in searching for other “earths” in other galaxies? I’m not ready to move.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Chivalry Don't Like Bitches

Chivalry is not dead. Chivalry just doesn’t like bitches. How can a woman expect a man to be polite and gracious when all she does is roll her eyes, believes she’s undeserving or acts like the words “thank” and “you” aren’t part of her vocabulary? Nice girls get doors held open for them, don’t pay for dinner or drinks, get door-to-door chauffeur service and receive genuine compliments. I’m all about equality of the sexes but I’m a woman and I like when a man takes charge and takes care of me. That does not mean I want him to control me or possess me (I wouldn’t put up with that anyway and that’s not love) but when their natural paternal instincts kick in, I relish it. Just that protective way they put their arm on the back of your chair (after they’ve pushed it in for you) or are quick to stand up for you and kick someone’s ass when they find out someone made you cry or pissed you off (Joey Tribbiani from 

I hope my first born is a boy. That way if I get a daughter second, she’ll have a big brother. I know full well most men want to protect and provide for a woman; 
a deserving woman. Although I’m liberal, I do fall into the traditional female gender role around a traditionally masculine man – he’s good with his hands (or at least tries or doesn’t balk at the idea of hiring someone to do the job for him), handles all the pest infestations that send me running and screeching like a girl, has hobbies I’ll never understand yet appreciate, watches me like a piece of meat when I’m walking around the house, presses his body behind mine while I’m in the kitchen….pretty much 24/7 foreplay is what I mean. And I will fill his belly with some fine food with a smile.

Black Blood

barely skimming the surface...

Last week, the story of
6-year old Jasmina Anema was made public. She was diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia. The only thing that can save her life is a bone marrow transplant. The best match would be a family member. But Jasmina Anema is adopted; she has no known siblings and her adopted family is white. Jasmina is Black; a member of a grossly underrepresented population in blood banks and on donor lists.

Blood types O and B are the most common (and highly demanded) blood types and found in Blacks. Many rare blood types are also found in our gene pool. Blood and tissue types are inherited so the best matches are found in families or similar racial groups. Blood transfusions are necessary for more conditions/injuries/diseases than you may realize. And many of those circumstances affect African-Americans at a greater rate. Sickle Cell, cancer, premature births and unnatural causes like car accidents and critical gunshot wounds (trauma patients). 

On an anthropological level, Blacks are the mother of civilization. All other man came from us. It makes sense that our blood would be the life-giving source. There’s this great resurgence of Black pride; throw on your dashikis and cowry shells, give your children African names and greet one another in Swahili, but what else are you doing to ensure our people survive and thrive in future generations? There’s still an underlying distrust of doctors (I use that term broadly) by the African-American community due to the long documented history of medical experimentation and torture (Tuskegee, PolyHeme, Carver Village) we’ve undergone. But this unwillingness to be blood (or bone marrow) donors will be to our detriment.

Thursday, March 5, 2009


Skin is the largest organ in the body. I love to expose mine. I spend the majority of my time naked (if it’s cold, I wear socks). I’m comfortable nude, whether I’m by myself or with others. And for me being nude heightens everything. My skin is exposed; I’m subject to different touches, textures, temperatures. I like to see my body in motion. It’s a wonderful machine, I watch my muscles flex, my skin becoming wet from sweat and plumping up. Being naked is healthy. I know right away when something’s not right with my body. I’m in tune with her. I know what it looks like and I know when something changes.

It’s very unfortunate that some people, because they aren’t comfortable in their own skin, do not get completely nude during sex, or ever! As soon as they hop out the shower, they cover up, and remain that way. It is possible to be nude and non-sexual. However, humans are sexual and being nude can heighten sexuality. Sex is a lot more than exploring all my holes. There’s always a point, either before or after, when I’m with a lover where I’m just watching him. He’ll ask, “What you looking at?” I state the obvious, “You,” and continue my visual study. I’m either admiring him purely as a physical being or I’m watching what he’s thinking; I can almost see what’s going on in his head. Add the mental aspect of sex to the feel of skin-to-skin; allowing access to every inch of your body and there’s nothing better.

I got into nude modeling in 2006. A photographer was working on a project in which he wanted to showcase real women. We range in size & shape, have lopsided breasts, stretch marks, scars and hair in places we’d rather not. I also wanted to document who I was at that moment in time. I’ll have these photos to look back on 20, 30, 40 years from now. My changes and different stages of beauty are forever chronicled. Unless the nature of my photo shoot is sexual or erotic, your eyes are drawn to the human body art form. When a photo is blurred or a model is strategically draped, the viewer is left wondering what’s behind or under the veil. The more you hide something, the more taboo it becomes. My body is not taboo.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

The Journey Home

One of my favorite songs of all time is U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”. I love the sound but I also identify with the message. Not in a religious sense though. But I’m still looking… I want to know about you and I. I love to listen. When someone speaks to me, I’m listening to their words and how they say those words. I love face-to-face conversations so I can hear what you tell me with your eyes, raise of your eyebrow, flare of your nostril, flick of your tongue. I have been known to play Devil’s Advocate quite a bit with my questions and I like to think it’s because of my ability to see all sides of a situation. It also encourages someone to tap into their passion when they have to defend their views, or it’s eye-opening and can stop someone in their tracks.

As I get older, the words I choose to describe myself have become more paradoxical, as have I; I am fluid, stubborn, opinionated, open-minded, empathetic, objective. There are times that I have to just disappear for a while to totally process the stimulus bombarding me on a daily basis. I am a sponge. I soak up knowledge but I also absorb others’ essences; their mannerisms, their mood, their energy. I was born a woman. I have the ability to accept and take people in and the ability to birth creations. I am intuitively aware when someone just needs the presence of another human being. That’s why I love to hug and touch and kiss. It’s unfortunate that many people aren’t comfortable in the presence of other people. Touch scares them or repulses them. I would die, literally, spiritually, if I couldn’t connect with other people.

So what’s my purpose? What am I looking for? Not sure. But I think it has something to do with healing, putting myself and my brothers and sisters at ease with themselves and their emotions and to spread positive vibes. Something like that. Like I said, I didn’t find it yet. I had a great talk with a friend last night who said he’s “going home.” What he meant was he’s going home to Africa. He’s very Pro-Black and knows that Africa is where he belongs. As I watched him say that, there was an unbelievable sense of peace that came over him.

I’m going home

We’re all trying to go home. To know someone who knows what their purpose on this earth is and to seek it is amazing and beautiful. He’s beautiful. I can’t help but love that. 

Sunday, March 1, 2009


Education is important, right? I do agree that there are certain professions that I expect to be comprised of well-educated professionals; doctors (with working and current knowledge of anatomy & physiology as well as the allied health professionals), lawyers (law is pretty much a book-based profession) and teachers (you have to know in order to teach). But how many small business owners need an MBA to be successful? And creative professionals are definitely split on whether a degree is necessary. I’ve never been formally trained as a writer. I
thought about getting a MFA but still haven’t followed through. I’ve had conversations with photographers I’ve worked with who say classes they’ve taken “slowed them down” or “stifled them”.

My love of the human body, medicine, trauma, surgery, etc would require a return to the classroom to pursue that career. I feel like I’ve done my time – Kindergarten + 12 years + 4 years in college with graduate credits. I can’t sit in another classroom, take another test, write another paper or do another group presentation. If you told me I could skip all that, go right into my internship or residency and work side-by-side with an ER physician and become a doctor, I’d sign-up yesterday. I’m always interested in my fellow man’s story. I can imagine how many of them started out bagging groceries, washing cars or hustling and became successful (however you interpret that word) without ever having to raise their hand to answer a question. It’s impressive. Not that they took the easy way or the right way, just that there’s more than one way.

What I do know is that it’s never too late. When I’m 50, I may decide it’s time to start something new and I’ll have that opportunity. Hopefully, I’ll be able to afford that education. I used to wonder what a liberal arts degree was.
Didn’t those folks want to do anything? Didn’t they have a passion for something? And now I question how many graduates use their specialized degrees? Sure you’re educated but how educated a decision is it to spend thousands of dollars and years of your life that you won’t reap the benefits of? I’m not knocking formal education completely. Early childhood education is important. You have to learn 1+1, language, develop reasoning skills and not to mention the social skills learned in school but I’ve learned A LOT in the years since I left school. Life is quite the teacher if you live it. I still have a thirst for learning, because I’m still asking questions.

Obama Is A Grinch

What the hell is wrong with Barack Obama? Five weeks into his term and he’s 
actually doing something? He made all these promises during his presidential campaign and now he has the nerve to follow through! Preposterous! He’s taking away all the joy of bashing a new President; a politician. They seldom keep their word. What are the naysayers to do now? Debate how quickly his hair is graying? Suggest he walk with less swagger?

He’s spending too much money on this stimulus bill. Oh yeah? Well he has to undo the mess that the previous President caused, or saw happening and didn’t have the intelligence or balls to do anything about. As a leader, you have to do what 
has to be done. You won’t always be understood or have a lot of support (Guiliani, Bloomberg), but beyond listening to your constituents and taking into account their concerns (health care reform!), it still boils down to a leader doing what has to be done.

Five weeks into his administration, Obama has a plan and a date set to have combat troops home from Iraq: August 31, 2010. A war that frankly shouldn’t have been started. I’m not a fan a war, wasn’t a fan of George Bush. But I remember standing in the lobby of LIU, watching the Twin Towers crumple and thinking, 
“They just declared war…” So I understand the US going after who was responsible, Osama Bin Laden and Al Qaeda in Afghanistan.Saddam Hussein, I think, was a red herring that Bush willingly chased. WMDs were never found in Iraq. Instead we’ve had 35,000 total casualties (Iraq & Afghanistan combined). 

Obama’s campaign rival, John McCain, agrees with his plan to pull out from Iraq. And I think deep down, many other Republicans agree with Obama’s policies. But to just admit that and move on with running the country would be too easy. Red state citizens who can’t stomach the fact that their fellow Americans and the Electoral College put Obama in office won’t admit it either even when they start to reap the benefits. 
So what’s left to do? Pick on the Black man. Compare him (and all African-Americans, Africans, or people of African descent) to a chimp and shoot him up in cartoon form. Or bake drunken negro face cookies in the West Village or display books about the President and one about monkeys in the window of a Barnes and Noble (Coral Gables, FL). No worries, Obama isn’t consulting with Doctor Zaius over a plate of ribs and watermelon. It’s a shame that these comparisons and stereotypes, these attacks, have been going on for centuries. But you gotta feel sorry for the “other guy” if that’s all he’s got after all these years.

Find this blog entry elsewhere on the web on Mahogany Butterfly.

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