Geez, Glee!

"Shut up!"


Sue Sylvester to Rachel and Sunshine, the new exchange student, singing in the bathroom.


That's exactly how I felt! Why were they singing? Musicals have always been inherently corny to me. But I had some wonderful moments watching Glee last season. Even some teary-eyed moments as those kids sang there way to Regionals. But geez, during the first quarter of the season premiere I said to myself I don't know if I can watch this season. I felt weird watching them perform "Empire State of Mind". Maybe I'm just getting too old for it. Any time they sing a current Top 40 hit, (is there still a Top 40?) I have no clue what song they're singing. They also referred to U2 as "classic rock" last season so maybe I'm still hurt by that.


I must say they are bold and pushing the envelope (like FOX tends to do) with all the racial, gender and sexual themes -- a female football coach (who I thought was Tanaka from last season after a sex change) named Beiste (pronounced "beast"), the young Steven Tyler look-a-like not sure how many balls he can fit into his big mouth (but I think he wants to fit something that belongs to Finn in his), etc. There are a lot of references to persons, places and things being gay and we can't forget the flamboyant gay guy who's into fashion with his fat, Black fag hag named Mercedes (a step-up or down from being named Lexus?). Last season, the clichés weren't so blaring to me, or maybe I just accepted them more. Television is a reflection and commentary of society. So I guess high school is just that mean-spirited, cruel and corny. Then I started thinking about the alternative high schools where everyone's "out"; boys, girls and bois -- what's the environment like in those schools?


Conclusion: Glee is a mature, satirical, after-school special - go figure. Knowing me, I'll probably still have Glee marathons to catch up on episodes on hulu. Besides, Nationals are gonna be in New York!


"Empire State of Mind" New Directions Style...

Nothing Says "Good Morning" Like A Speculum

I had an early morning appointment with my OB/GYN. I jumped the gun earlier in the year and scheduled a Pap in April (I was actually not due for my annual until August). When they realized it, they rescheduled my appointment without charging me for the visit. That was a great plus considering I'm uninsured. 


The nurse checked me in, asked some basic questions - when was my last period, did I have sex within the last 24 hours, did I insert anything into my vagina, any unusual bleeding or discharge, would I like an HIV test - weighed me and took my blood pressure. Weighed the same, blood pressure was low (I was surprised considering my mad dash to get to my 8:30am appointment on time and that fact that I was still on a high Mickey alert this morning). 


I choose to believe my doctor is as happy to see me as I was to see her. She also asked some routine questions and inquired if there were any changes to my medical history. No, I don't take supplements or am on any medication, I drink more alcoholic beverages than last year since I've developed a relationship with white wine and have a "Cheers" in my life, I do a self-breast exam semi-regularly, I'm not still with the same partner and yes, I have engaged in some... *whispers* risky behavior. She told me about the Family Planning Benefit Program (FPBP) that I'd most likely be eligible for and get free visits and she asked if I was still working in Physical Therapy. If you don't have the kind of relationship with your doctor where you can tell them who you're sleeping with, what objects you're inserting where, if things smell different, you may want to consider a new doctor or change your approach to your doctor. They've seen and heard "it all".

Try These On For Size

I didn't leave home this morning intending to buy jeans, but the pair I was wearing (and all the pairs I have at home) are fading fast. I've worn through the inner thighs and they've been patched up and now I'm going through the patches.  My inner thigh flesh oozes out like sausage escaping its casing in other pairs. My thighs rub together and I walk A LOT. They really have started making jeans differently. Something with the inner seams... but whatever. Point is, I ended up at Express. I know my size and the cut and don't have to try anything on.


Not today! Their Eva (which used to be Curvy fit, Regular Rise) are still Curvy fit, but now run in Mid-Rise. I stay away from low rise, because they're too low to cover my rise. I took down my 10 Short off the shelf and they did look a little smaller than I remembered. Luckily I decided to try them on. I had "my" camera with me because I was taking photos in Central Park earlier. I set the timer and got to changing and trying. Trying. One pair, the CURVY couldn't even go all the way up. 


The Stella fit... like a pair of leggings. No thanks. The floor attendant approached me and asked if everything fit OK. I explained to him my "dilemma". I showed him that the pair of jeans I was wearing were Express jeans and didn't fit at all like the ones I tried on and said they must've changed the cut of the jean slightly. After he listened to me, we decided I should try size 12. He called back to the stockroom and no they didn't have 12 Short. I figured I could just get my friend to hem them for me.

I'm Giving It Up

We're facing the last few weeks of summer and quite possibly hot, torrid summer affairs. For my readers in the Southern Hemisphere, I'm sure you're enjoying the canoodling on cold winter nights...


Now believe it or not, I don't have any new stories to share about summer love, romance or lust. But I'd love to hear yours! Did you meet someone new? Spice up a long-term relationship? Platonic friendship evolve into something more? Have a cyber relationship? Experience a great one-night stand? Break any furniture?


Leave a comment for a chance to win a signed copy of my book, The Darker Side of Lust and your choice of a 4x6 print from my Man. Toy. photo series.


Share as much or as little as you'd like but include the following fun details: city and state (US only), country, astrological sign (Western, Vedic or Chinese) of you and your partner(s).


If you're entering the giveaway and already have a copy -- tell us your favorite story from The Darker Side of Lust.

The winner will be chosen on September 6, 2010 (Labor/Labour Day in US & Canada).

    

Learning Curve

July 22, 2010  12:01am

Gaining the confidence I need to finally start my portrait project, Emotional Black Male (once the work and life issues work themselves out of course). I’ve already seen my exhibit in my mind’s eye...

The bloopers and the brilliance began on the roof of my apartment building. Day 2 I took the camera with me to Williamsburg. Now Day 3 of learning how to use a digital camera, night shooting was my main objective. It totally wasn’t planned that I’d be in Times Square the day I wanted to shoot at night, but I guess I had to pop my photography cherry in Times Square.

I live and die by my camera phone. And before then I had a 35mm…years ago. One thing I love about photography is it allows me to feed my voyeuristic nature. I also love that photography gives emotion to the split seconds captured in an image. I have to learn about exposure. Some of the photos are way too dark. I also have to develop a steadier hand because I won’t always have a tripod with me (and I clearly can't shoot while in a moving car). Plus, I have to be more patient with the slow shutter and work on focus. The learning curve is always greatest when you’re first learning something and I’m having fun. Creating.

Protected Sex

I live in America where there’s freedom of speech unless your words are considered "defamation", "fighting words" or "obscene". What do you consider obscene? I’m exposed to so much nowadays, I’ve become desensitized and the shock value of said obscene material has to be raised a few notches before I consider it obscene—in other words, “I know it when I see it.”

This coming from a woman who writes erotica; are you surprised?

King Joke

A primetime special to announce what team he’ll play for… ridiculous. It’s bad enough we’ll get the play-by-play and Monday morning quarterbacks. A press conference, ok, I can deal with that. But this? His reps reached out to ESPN and James obviously agreed to it. Thanks, I appreciate that they’re donating the proceeds to the Boys & Girls Club (you should be donating to charities anyway). I won’t watch it but I know it’ll be hard to escape the hoopla especially if he decides to play for the Knicks or the Nets who’ll be moving to Brooklyn.

This is a basketball player. And he’s paid millions of dollars to do it.  I’m not saying someone shouldn’t have the opportunity to make a living off their talent but we don’t pay teachers and doctors anywhere near what they’re worth. And we wonder why so many young Black men wanna be ballers. When’s the last time we celebrated Dr. Benjamin Carson? As an ATC I would never make a fraction of what James makes and my job is to keep him healthy so he can continue to play.

I love athletes. I think what we, as a society, pay them is exorbitant. Look how much we pay movie stars. The president’s salary keeps rising. Clearly, we’re willing to pay a lot to be entertained.

Spice Market

I was checking the links on my website to see if they're still active, and to my dismay, I couldn't find my Spice Market review. The page is gone. But of course, I have copies of all my work, back-ups everywhere, flash drives, external hard drives... you know the drill. 


This was written back in 2008 as well. I apparently ate a lot that year. I even sent it to Jean-Georges.com hoping it would get into the man himself's hands and to my surprise I was contacted by Jennifer Russo of Bullfrog and Baum.


Yeah... I have to get back into my food writing on a more regular basis. I haven't been to Spice Market in a while, but here's how they made me feel when I did frequent their restaurant.


Spice Market

On a recent visit to Spice Market, my friend was convinced this was the sort of place she could never get a reservation in. I assured her she could, no problem. To which she replied, “Yeah, on a Monday at 4:30.”

Not at all. Spice Market (Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s Southeast Asian restaurant) in the heart of the Meatpacking District may have an air of exclusivity to an outsider, but the exact opposite is true. Spice Market prides itself on service. I eat out a lot in New York City. I honestly don’t remember when I had my chair pulled out and pushed in for me by the hostess. At the same time, my two dinner companions were getting their chairs tended to as well. That was 1-on-1 service.

My Big, Fat, Greek Dinner

Tavernas Kyclades is Native Creative Concierge™ approved.

I recently went back to Astoria for dinner before an erotic event. We all know the relationship between food and the sensual and my relationship to both. As usual, Ardian Skenderi, Owner and Chef of Taverna Kyclades, made the rounds throughout the dining room and I was able to receive his contact info so I could send him this review I wrote about previous trips I had made to Taverna Kyclades.

The following was written in 2008. It is also posted on my FoodBuzz profile page.

My Big, Fat, Greek Dinner

Astoria’s Greek population is the largest in New York City, so it should come as no surprise that Greek restaurants can be found quite readily in that neighborhood. However, there is one restaurant that stands out. Taverna Kyclades, located on Ditmars Blvd “is the best Greek restaurant in the city,” my Italian suitor at the time, told me. “Sure it is,” I thought. I figured he was just trying to impress me and he did.

Kitty Makes Me A Girl

I was exchanging texts with my friend, StarPower, about Monday Night Raw before the conversation shifted to UrbanErotika™, an event I co-produced and StarPower performed in about 2 weeks ago. He told me that I looked really nice that night. I had received a few compliments the night of the show and accepted his gracefully as well. I told him I should “dress like a girl more often”, or maybe I just needed reasons to.

The next morning, I had an “aha” moment of sorts and decided to wear a skirt. I was making a few stops that day and I figured I would be comfortable enough. I clearly made the right decision when I walked into the APART showroom for Kitty Bradshaw’s 2 Year Blogiversary event. Normally, I’d rock a pair of jeans & a simple top or t-shirt. I didn’t stray from the t-shirt but wore it with my “dangerous curves ahead” skirt. I even wore slight heels and I even threw on some beads. All the attendees that night proved that writers and bloggers aren’t homely creatures with no fashion sense.

World Cup Of Love

I’ve been on South African time since June 11. And it’s been worth every second. I’ve gotten used to the early mornings. This event is very consuming, I’ll admit. I still wake up in time for the 7:30am games that are no more (moment of silence). I’ve noticed a lot more enthusiasm and fervor surrounding this World Cup. Probably because I’m older, I’m more aware of these things. Or could be because the world is converging on Africa….

I grew up in a home with two immigrant parents, so watching the World Cup was the norm. Of course I didn’t go to bars to watch and I didn’t know if any of my friends were into it, but the excitement was still there. I called my father before the Super Eagles’ games during this tournament to gauge the excitement level. Yes, he cut the conversation short so he could go watch. I ain’t mad at all. I even remember in my youth and naiveté taping the World Cup finals (It could be ’94 but I think France won the year I taped so that would be ’98) so my father could watch the game when he got back from Nigeria. He appreciated the gesture but had watched the game live. Duh! It’s the World Cup. Everyone’s watching.

You Are A Piece Of Meat

On Saturday night, I went to a burlesque show (shout out to Brown Girls Burlesque!). Yes, I, a straight woman, went to a show to watch other women take off their clothes in dramatic and seductive fashion. As always, I thoroughly enjoyed it. The show started with a dancer who wasn’t doing burlesque. She paid homage to old school with her denim mini, fishnets, high-top Converse sneakers and a tank top. A group of lesbians across the aisle were very vocal about how they wished her titty would pop out of her tank top as she popped and locked; they were trying to will a nip-slip. The requests to have performers sit on their laps (not part of the show), the “goddamns” when a performer would bend over or when a member from the audience went on stage for an interview segment (said audience member was very slim; I’m surprised she didn’t topple over her breasts were so big).

It got “worse” as the show went on. They commented loudly about who they like and what body part. One lesbian in the group said the burlesque dancer looked so good she’d choke her out while in bed. My reaction was, “Wow, these lesbians are worse than men! Let’s examine this briefly. See, it can be viewed as “unfortunate” but I’m used to men cat-calling, making sexually objectifying comments. It’s not right, and it does make many women uncomfortable, but I’ve learned to ignore it or defend myself.

M_______________Accepts With Pleasure

I’m very dismayed that I have yet to receive a wedding invitation this season. Don’t let my quest for a divorce fool you, I really do enjoy weddings. Last May, I went to a friend’s wedding and had my girlie moments from the start: Was my dress ok? Did my booty jiggle obscenely as I traipsed in my heels? Would my strapless bra stop resting on my stomach? –you know, the usual concerns.

A Brief History Of My Natural Hair

This essay was originally published in the Mahogany Soul Nappy Journey newsletter (June 2010). Subscribe and become a fan!

I didn’t have many Afro sisters back when I went natural yet I never considered being natural wouldn’t be accepted. I have been my own hairdresser for a long time, alternating between a relaxer and extensions (sometimes a year at time). When I would take out my braids or twists, I loved how full my roots felt; my natural hair and fingers massaged each other. Till one time I wondered what I would look like if I cut off my “perm”… What would I look like with just my “new growth”? I answered that question with my mother’s sewing shears 10 years ago. My BC was spontaneous; didn’t fill me with angst but excitement. (Note: I think it’s interesting that the transition is known as BC; makes me think of ancient Africa and the religious/spiritual overtones).

The Ties That Bind (or Give Me Free)

The New York Times reported earlier this week that NYS divorce law is about to change. New York State is the only state that doesn’t grant no-fault divorce. The plaintiff must prove cruel and inhuman treatment, abandonment or adultery or the couple must be legally separated for a year before a divorce is granted. What about those of us whose relationships are simply over?

I’ve been in limbo for almost 4 years. I am a single woman who when I meet someone new feels compelled to explain why they may see mail around my place with a hyphenated last name. Or thinking about the future, what if we want to do the “I do”, we won’t be able to. I’m not a fan of long, drawn out divorce battles. Some may consider divorce an easy out when things get rough. They may believe that couples should “stay together for the children” or they take “till death do you part” literally, are willing to spend years in counseling that doesn’t work or just become apathetic to their spouses. Pish posh. Some relationships end.

Casual Sex Is Still Dead

Nowadays when I have sex, I do a lot of thinking afterwards. I’ve come to realize it’s a sign of growth. Early on in my sexual life, I had an on-to-the-next-one mentality. I rarely looked back. The sex itself was the beginning and the end of the experience with that person. If I had hooked up with a friend, we remained friends but that didn’t mean we remained sexual partners.

Last year, I wrote The Death of Casual Sex and yes, it’s still dead. The older something gets the deader it gets; makes sense, no? Let me explain.

Strange Strokes

Another symbol of my generation passed last week - Gary Coleman. It was sad and I went on a Diff’rent Strokes binge for about two days after and I’m still laughing at what Marlon Wayans posted on Twitter (@MarlonLWayans). He said you know you’re cute when other kids think you’re cute. So true!! Gary Coleman (Arnold Jackson) was ADORABLE.

Last week, Coleman, 42, died of a brain hemorrhage after a fall in his home. When he slipped into a coma, he was taken off life support. I’m still angry and suspicious of the 911 call his wife made after the accident. You can’t predict how you’ll react in a crisis, it’s very common to go into shock, but that is why I need to be with, cohabitate etc. with someone who can save my life like I can save theirs; know CPR, basic First Aid, or have the presence of mind to go get help. What angered me most about the call was Shannon Price (disregarding the possible shock she was in) was useless and not helpful at all.

The Romantic, The Writer and The Sociologist

I just watched Before Sunset (2004). I heard about it on the special Unseen: France during a segment on the bookstore Shakespeare and Company I watched earlier that afternoon. I’m so glad I watched the movie. It totally put me in the mood for romance, friendship, writing, Paris and Tom all at once. It touched on all the “what ifs” in life and getting second chances. The writer in me loved the dialogue, the screenplay. I’m inspired to go back to the screenplays I wrote around the same time (2002-2004). I remember I’d come up with my elevator speech about how I write character-based screenplays. It was the characters, what they said and how they said it that moved a story from FADE IN to FADE OUT.

And I saw myself, past, present and future in the film. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve been on those “walk and talk” dates like the one in Before Sunset. The conversation flows to family, beliefs, food, sex. I know men relate better side-by-side than they do face-to-face and maybe that’s why I’ve had such memorable moments talking to men. Kudos to Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy for their chemistry (and the script); natural, fluid. The way Jesse’d gaze at her adoringly and make self-deprecating jokes about sex in an attempt to flirt, let his intentions be known but also protect himself at the same time. That whole scenario is the perfect date for me. Spend time with me without the frills. Like Céline said in the film, everyone is different; every person has their own unique details. And no one can be replaced. I love being given the opportunity to find out what it is that makes you unique.

I could go on forever about all the things I loved about the movie, how I related to it. It resonated so vividly, how it made my desire to visit Paris even stronger, my desire to write, just… my desire.

Inherent Danger

Aiyana Jones, 7-years old. Shot dead at home, in her sleep by police. This story saddens me. And of course enrages me. And was definitely a trigger for my musings, both emotional & rational and objective.

I don’t have children yet but I envision myself charging the police to protect my child and ending up dead myself or imprisoned for assault on a police officer in a situation like that. I understand the training police undergo; if they feel threatened they defend themselves. After identifying themselves as police, and if the suspect is armed or poses a threat, and if the decision is made to discharge their weapons, they aim for center mass. This was clearly not the case in this situation. They were searching for a murder suspect. They obtained a no-knock warrant. Detroit police wanted to surprise and ambush the suspect so he wouldn’t be able to flee. That much is understandable. Only that.

My first thought after learning they were filming The First 48 while this atrocity took place was, “Let’s pray the unaltered footage ends up in the right hands.” The public doesn’t need to view what in essence is a snuff film, but the truth needs to come out. Reality TV was bound to kill someone sooner or later.

Blackout

This past Sunday night I took a shower in the dark. I left the bathroom door open (I know, totally messed with the Feng Shui of my apartment) so it wasn’t complete darkness. I had already started soaping up when I thought it would be cool if I lit some candles. A shower by candlelight... My mind quickly went from romance, to necessity then back to romance. Let me explain how my mind works. I see things like scenes from a movie or television show. An entire scene will flash across my mind’s eye, with different camera angles, lighting and music.

“Ooh, a shower by candlelight.” then

“This is how I’d have to shower during a blackout.”

Remember blackouts, NY? (not trying to jinx it) Who would I want to be stranded with during a blackout? Not that we have to take shower together but if you enjoy someone’s company, no need to apologize for it (Ha!)...