Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Throwback BIC

"she don't know me/she about to know me/i'm in your life now/that's how it's gonna be/i seen her photo/she ain't even all that/so if you want her back/you can take her back..." -Mya

For the life of me, I've never been able to grasp why exactly Mya hasn't had greater commercial success. She's a great entertainer--never boring--and always puts out tunes with a lot of attitude and swagger. I was in college when this hit dropped in 2000 and damned if it doesn't encapsulate BIC. Just as in the quote above, I love how the lyrics vacillate in between bitchiness, naggery, disrespect of the other woman, a little whinyness for good measure, and finally a not-so-thinly-veiled threat. Ahhh....the stuff BIC is made of.

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The Little Green Monster

"Always remember, Peggy, it’s matrimonial suicide to be jealous when you have a really good reason."

-Clare Booth Luce
I don't know why this even makes [front] Page Six news. Wouldn't everyone just expect Usher to find a BIC like his mama?

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Daily DIC

"...there is a lot of lies cir[c]ulating arround [sic] right now. But this is all going to backfire on Puff. I know him too well."

-James Sabatino

Many say doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result is the height of insanity.

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Had To Do It: Ridin

"i'm gonna knock on your door/rap on your window pane..."

-Aretha Franklin

I want to thank all my readers who have responded to the "Had To Do It" segment story requests. I am gathering more and getting ready to debut it as a regular feature. But as always, when it comes to BIC I'll put my own tail on the line first.

I'll start by saying that my cheeks are burning ever-so-slightly just thinking about the last time I really "had to do it". Half of the redness in my cheeks is due to the mild shame at being so out of control on the evening in question. The other half is residual anger from what drove me to that point.

As anyone who knows me knows, I have a penchant for the emotionally-unavailable man, much like my amazing father who not only put 23 chromosomes on my situation back in the day, but has always supported me in my endeavors--mentally, emotionally, financially and spiritually--and loves me "more than life itself" (his words, not mine). However, my daddy is not the warmest guy around and can be hard to reach about certain subjects and uncomfortable to approach about others (and I'm not talking about sex and those "uncomfortable topics", I'm talking about..."Daddy why didn't you come to my _____? or "Dad why haven't you called me in two weeks?" type of stuff).

Anyhow, just a little psychosomatic background to set you up for the kind of man for which I constantly fall. I've given in to it; it's just who I am. Something in me responds to that and even more oddly, something about that dynamic works in my relationships. I LOVE guys just like my dad. They're generally cool, when you're around them you feel safe and taken care of, treated with courtesy and generally respected...however, there's always a glint of something not quite right and from time to time it can seem like a whole world is in between the two of you. It must be said that one of my greatest joys in life is to be in the face of a man like this, anxious for the moments in which he's the warm, cuddly person he is generally incapable of being or only capable of being when I'm super angry and just about done.

In any case, I managed to shake a man with the worst case ever of my daddy's syndrome (and some extra terrible mess that had nothing to do with my dad thrown in for good measure) in early 2007 and happened across one I thought was drastically different, except I actually liked him, almost right away. And as anyone who knows me knows, I've said those words maybe four times tops in my entire life and meant it. In any case, after a few months it became glaringly apparent why I liked Mr. Drastically Different so very much--because he was my type from the rooter to the tooter; more my "type", actually, than Worst Case. So, humorously, I found myself back in my comfort zone, vying for more attention from someone new.

Well, in very early July, even though Worst Case and I had been dried up for some time, the proverbial you-know-what really hit the fan and we totally stopped speaking forever. Although there was a mild sense of relief following this eruption, and the entire debacle was a loong time coming, I have to admit I was unnerved by how abrupt and traumatic the whole thing had been. Fast forward to one night a couple weeks later. I needed some information from DD. Really bad. I'd asked him to help me with a work project and I needed his input. I also needed him to respect how important it was for me to have this information I was soliciting. I told him this in a voicemail, which received no response. I told him this in a text, which was also conspicuously unanswered. This complete ignoring of my attempts to contact him was brand new (at the time) and so I texted again, which I began to resent because I hate feeling like a nag more than anything in this world. If there was one law I could put on the books, it would be that any man I dated would never force me into a nag corner. I'm way too sexy for that look, so when I begin to feel like my sexiness is being chipped away at by forced naggery, I rightfully become engorged with anger.

In any case, DD was not respecting this. At all. After the third text, I was livid. Now, I fully and readily admit that I wasn't just angry with DD. Truth be told, I had also become absolutely enraged with the general three-year scope of behavior of Worst Case. I had also somehow managed to rile myself up about a previous relationship from 2003 in which I'd been lied to for almost six months about the existence of a child, amongst other things. A small part of me also acknowledged a dull vexation with a Howard University baseball player that I'd seen casually some years prior in an inconsequential relationship that, despite its overwhelming insignificance, had managed to end quite poorly. Mentally,--and please keep in mind the name of this blog--I compounded all of this ire and poured it into my reaction that evening.

I was out to dinner with two of my best friends. Being that we'd ordered pasta and I was already dangerously far from the shore of my goal weight, I resolved to work out after dinner. However, as dinner progressed and my texts went unanswered, my thoughts began to travel as my friends spoke. I pretended to be engrossed in the conversation, but in actuality my mind was consumed with anger and all kinds of revenge fantasies. I became quiet--and if you know me, you know how serious that is. I'd also had a couple glasses of wine, which, in hindsight, was probably a bad idea. When dinner concluded and my texts were still awaiting a response, I was so angry I couldn't speak the entire way home.

Kim and I went into our apartment and I went into my bedroom and slammed the door, rummaging through my workout drawer for a sports bra. Normally, after a big dinner like the one we had, we'd turn on iTunes and dance on the kitchen counters and up and down the staircase to the loft to burn some calories. But tonight, I needed a treadmill. I was going to burn the anger, singe the rage. However, somewhere in between putting my left leg in my track pants and my right leg in them, I snapped. I finished putting on my workout clothes (do not miss this: I was in my workout clothes, not even cute ones) and bolted out of the door without a word to Kim. I got in my car and turned it on and I honestly don't remember much after that, except rolling up to DD's place of business. I'd planned to go inside, but against all odds, he was just leaving at that moment and happened to be outside with his colleague.

He was as shocked to see me as I was to be there. In fact, the minute I saw his face the enormity of what I'd chosen to do dawned on me. Unfortunately, at that point it was do or die, and I certainly couldn't just turn around and leave without a word. So I parked and managed to remain in my car and not act like every bad cinematic black woman since the early 1980's and fly out of my vehicle flailing my arms and talking crazy--although I will admit my limbs were itching to flail. Instead, I wrapped them around me and opened my car door. I sat there and he came over. "Hi Stalker," he said congenially, and a little cautiously, and I remember feeling 17% silly and 83% indignant for being pushed to the edge. "Can you call me back!?" I do remember my normally low and even-toned vocals leaving my mouth in a shrill screech that would probably make Hillary Clinton cringe. I remember this because for the rest of the night, I could hear that voice saying "can you call me BACK?" over and over again. That was definitely the point of no return, and the moment when complete control was lost.

In any case, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, because one thing is great about guys like this. They rarely trip out. They remain cool in the craziest situations, which is why they tend to attract BIC women who can't believe that someone doesn't treat them with kid gloves even though they're batty as hell. Women like me, women who tend to who lose their scruples at least twice a month and manage to show out in some shape, form or fashion... and are generally okay with that.

I'm now about nine months rolling-up-at-his-job-incident free; but I will admit I constantly think about it now. It's almost as though that opened a floodgate and made something I'd considered crazy "even for me" fairly acceptable. His calm response really didn't do me any favors in the long run, either, because chances are if I ever try that again with someone else it might not go over so well.
I don't recall much from the conversation with DD that night, just that it was brief and we both seemed discomfited--obviously for different reasons. One thing I do recall in my blind rage-damaged memory is his colleague's face. It clearly said "I told you that bitch was crazy." The other thing I recall pretty clearly is DD's face, which correspondingly read "I knew this bitch was crazy." Oddly enough, I peeped the other half of the book running across his normally poker-faced expression, which was kind of "Okay, she's cra-zy...", as though he'd finally figured me out and yet had so much more to learn.

And crazy, ladies, I am. I will admit that after I drove away, I cruised by Worst Case's house and flipped it the bird for no particular reason and, obviously, to no particular avail. I went home and called my ex-boyfriend and relaxed to the sound of his blind adoration. I didn't mention to him that I'd just gone on an unsolicited tour of my new jones' workplace parking lot. Having only ever seen me at my coolest, nonchalant sexiest, I wouldn't want the sweetheart to think less of me.

Because, really, I had to do it.

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Tuesday, March 25, 2008

The Daily OMG: He's Having A Baby?

"Any woman who still thinks marriage is a 50/50 proposition is only proving that she doesn't understand either men or percentages." -Rose Kennedy

All of us who thought it would be a cold day in hell when this happened never factored imperative gender identification's slow and steady demise. I have so much to say about this that, for once, I'll just say nothing.

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Monday, March 24, 2008

Daily DIC

"A picture is worth a thousand words." -Chinese proverb

Gas in San Francisco, CA: $4.57/Premium

29% approval rating: priceless

[Yet another] BIC sigh of relief for November 2008.

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Thursday, March 20, 2008

BIC Loves...: BIC Support

Yes, I wish Barack could do it for us and keep us from carrying the burden. But in this case I am willing to do it for him. To support a candidate means to provide him support and help him do things he cannot do. I will keep doing my best to explain why Jeremiah Wright is a prophetic pastor whom many of us love and support.

-Melissa Harris-Lacewell

I'm mentally and emotionally drained as I log onto DrudgeReport every hour on the hour and watch the trainwreck that is the political sewage being strewn across Barack Obama's otherwise fragrant candidacy. While I've read many Huffington Post articles about how this should blow over in the wake of Barack's magnificent speech on race--a speech for which this country has been thirsting for years--headlines on political websites and the sight of conservative pundits spewing gross hyperbole and all types of hatred across the airwaves have caused an election indigestion that leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

Yes, I know how Jeremiah Wright and Barack's affiliation with him looks to Americans far outside of that experience, and I realize how difficult it would be for some of them to understand the dynamic of a politically-charged Black pastor and his congregation. I have attended churches like this all of my life and fully comprehend why it is necessary, for the membership of churches such as Trinity, to have a refuge on Sunday morning after a long week in an office, in a society, in a country that isn't always so easy on them.

I am not, nor have I ever been, a member of Trinity but I've been blessed to hear plenty of Reverend Dr. Wright's sermons as he is very close with my family church's pastor in Dallas and is featured on
streamingfaith.com for whenever I feel the need to check him out. Jeremiah Wright is a messenger of God, a man with what old Black folks call "a Word" in his mouth. I truly believe he speaks the words God wants us to hear. Now, that doesn't mean that every syllable he utters is something we want to hear or even that we agree with, but as a righteous man blessed with a large congregation, I think he's done an exemplary job of leading his flock and teaching the Bible in a way that not only uplifts his congregation but moves them to action.

In one of my favorite sermons of his, one that would probably not be as readily looped on Hannity & Colmes for the next six months, he says these words:

"Some of your biggest enemies are folk who look just like you...look like you, talk like you, live near you and worship at the same place you worship… some of the enemies of Jesus are folk who sing the same songs, praise the same name and claim the same faith but they are enemies of Jesus because they do not follow the teachings of Jesus nor walk in his pathways. Think about it: they hold slaves—enemies of Jesus. They build churches in the midst of slave castles—enemies of Jesus. They justify slavery, twisting scripture to justify it so—enemies of Jesus. They justify wealth and greed, twisting scripture to do so—enemies of Jesus. They make preemptive military strikes on countries that don’t even have an Army and tell y’all that God told them to do it—enemies of Jesus. They walk past 47 million Americans with no healthcare on their way to worship their distorted images of God—enemies of Jesus. They pass by on the other side of the road the…almost 3300 now corpses of American military and the 100,000 corpse of Iraqi civilians just like they pass by the 143,000 of fried Japanese civilians when we dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima, they pass by their corpses on their way to the crystal cathedral to worship a God who sanctions the slaughter of innocent and the slavery of Africans. These are enemies of Jesus!...It’s time to be scared when you got folk who are religious folk, who are sincere about their religion but who are sincerely wrong, religious folk who look like you and worship like you but are enemies of Jesus! …To miss the political implications in this text is to miss many a lesson you will need to remember because of the tests you’re gonna have to face each day living in this country.”

Of course, Reverend Dr. Wright's words have been plastered all over the television of late, scaring the living daylights out of most non-Black voters--and I suppose some Black voters, as well. Among the more incendiary offerings he's presented are that the US created AIDS to chip away at the Black population and that 9/11 was retribution for US sins. While both of those pills are hard to swallow and I won't completely address them here due to their delicate intricacy, I will point out that a 67 year-old man who not only belongs to the legacy of slavery but has been fully alive and a witness to such disgusting US institutions as the
Tuskegee Experiment and US atrocities such Japanese internment and our unwarranted invasion of countries such as Vietnam and Iraq might place US policies and practices under greater scrutiny. He might encourage others to do this as well. If he had a church with a membership of thousands, he might share these thoughts with them.

What the America who finds themselves so shocked by his words will not admit is that Reverend Dr. Jeremiah Wright has every reason--and every right--to question this country's commitment to Black people and other minorities. What they will not speak about as they dissect and denigrate Trinity and its former pastor is the long history of discrimination, institutional racism, and the deep, deep legacy of hatred in this country that Barack so admirably tried to address the other day.

With all of this going on, you can see why I found it a little hard to sleep last night. So thank God for Melissa Harris-Lacewell, the often funny and always enlightening Associate Professor of Politics and African-American Studies at Princeton that I so admire. Thank God that Melissa put breath to the words I feel so deeply underscore this entire incident--that many Black people find solace in the church because we are deeply connected to the themes of Christianity: hope, faith and love, but not without an eye on the judgment of God, the wrath of God and the understanding that in our faith there is suffering before deliverance and consequences for our decisions.

A former member of Trinity,
Melissa writes:

In churches like Trinity UCC, black folks read the Bible with an eye on what it has to say about experiences of bondage and oppression. In this way the Bible is both a moral guide and a political text. Even though slaveholders declared that God wanted slaves to obey their masters, black people believed that God wanted them to be free. They believed this because they read the story of Moses.Though the confederate states claimed that God instituted segregation; black Americans believed differently because they read Amos. Today many black Americans worry when our country engages in self-righteous foreign policy because we have read Isaiah.

Thank you, Melissa. If only you could make the rounds to the Pat Buchanans, Rush Limbaughs and Ann Coulters and shake some sense into them. But we know how useless that would be.

Jeremiah Wright is not unpatriotic. What he is is viscerally American. He hasn't picked up and moved to Africa, although he's respectful of ancestral ties there. He obviously finds value in this country in which he was born, particularly having served it in its Armed Forces, raised his children in it, fought for rights in it for nearly all of his life, and I don't think I'd be mistaken to assert that Jeremiah Wright has paid taxes to it for nearly the past six decades. That man loves this country, just as all of us who sit in church on Sunday and pray away the angst and pain that being a minority in America can mean, love this country. And all he wants--all we all want--is to, in our lifetime or at least that of our grandchildren, feel loved back. Reverend Dr. Wright, as a student of the Bible and a man of God, understands that while God loves His children, he parents us and he disciplines us. And He is often disappointed in us. The United States is not above that disappointment. And we are not above His discipline. Maybe a young Black woman typing these words silently in a dark room read differently than a high-powered Black man screaming them from a pulpit, but we say the same thing. God will not bless America if it can't get this one right. Reverend Dr. Wright should not be taken out back and slaughtered like a mad cow as some very ugly people would have it. And neither should his very blessed and highly favored congregant Barack Obama.

Hebrews 11:1 says clearly, and it's one of my favorite verses in the entire Bible, "faith is the substance of all things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." I have no faith in this country because I have no faith in any man. I have faith in God and what God can use people to do and can work through and will people to do. There was a time when no one believed it was possible for this presidential candidate to win this race, and at that time I felt moved to support him anyway. And through this dark period I will continue to believe in his candidacy for the highest office in the land. Because specifically for Black people, I believe that our churches that have fortified us for years have done so for a reason. In fact, I am beginning to believe they've done it specifically for this moment, so that we can all remain faithful and believe God for something that, right now--especially March 20, 2008--we cannot see.

I have faith, and have had faith since February 2007 that Barack Obama will be President of these United States.

And with that, I'm going to bed.

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Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Caution: Texting In Progress

“Wish I could cut myself until the emotional pain showed thru…but don’t worry I lack the courage & can’t deal with the humiliation.” -Tyra

I realize the above quote was just used, but it just so accurately encapsulates what exactly we're dealing with here when we begin to discuss real, live BIC. Put yourself in a man's shoes for one moment: you pick up your phone to read about what sounds like a clear threat of suicide from the girl you're tappin. Right. Look, my cousin is not alone. I've managed to wrangle the depths of my crazy texts in over time, but I'm still prone to thoughtlessly sending out texts that I later realize could be interpreted as scary and strange. Oddly enough, the relationships have usually crashed and burned by then. Wonder why.

Anyhow, jokes aside, I was just sitting here thinking about how we as women of the 21st century are addicted to texting. Just a few years ago, I remember friends of mine still being indignant about receiving text messages and emails from men in lieu of calls. It seemed insulting. Just a few years later, texting is the crazy woman's favorite thing to do. Almost all the crazy things I say are in text. There are two major reasons for this. First, texts are non-committal somehow and men who are used to dealing with crazy women (the same ones who will deal with me) usually let the texts slide ultimately. There's an unspoken rule between a man who loves and understands crazy women and the crazy object of his affection that if she says anything too crazy they don't have to talk about it unless her crazy ass brings it up again, which is likely.
Crazy women get a pass, but not for wanting one--because although we care, we don't really care. Because if we really cared, we wouldn't say and do the crazy things we do. The second reason texts are popular among the BIC set is that when men are dealing with a truly crazy woman, there comes a point when answering the phone is no longer an option, particularly if he's not alone because God only knows what she'll say when he pushes "talk". And so crazy women typically start with calls like everyone else, slowly begin to text furiously after calls are not immediately answered, and like Pavlovian mutts soon stop calling altogether and solely text. They send a message as huge as "i think i love you" and as small as "i'm waiting downstairs". To texting: the BIC refuge. _______________________________________________________ I'm going to use this to introduce a new segment called "Had To Do It" which I hope to incorporate a few times a week beginning later this week. Yesterday we had Tyra's story, so what's yours? I'll be hitting you guys up for your wildest BIC moments, so get them ready!

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Crazy/Beautiful

"Of course, these women are impossible to win—bored by any guy who would have them twice."

-Amy Sohn

This article is old but I came across it doing some research and was amused. Amy Sohn wrote a piece about the always-sexy topic of multi-orgasmic scary broads who maniacally attack penises in rabid and constant search of penetration, slap them around, ride them into oblivion, and disappear into the night.

Apparently, the topic of crazy women who are just so-so in bed and try to spend the weekend was already taken.

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Tuesday, March 18, 2008

The Daily OMG: From Whence I Come

“Wish I could cut myself until the emotional pain showed thru…but don’t worry I lack the courage & can’t deal with the humiliation.” -Ty

I've dropped her name on here many times before, but now you may truly understand how deep the BIC experience in my life goes. My cousin Tyra, with whom I coined the term "BIC" in 2002 (not '03 as I've previously said), comes from the same gene pool as me. Now, although she and I are first cousins and have spent our lives as though we were the siblings and not her father and my mother, the fact remains that she was raised in the Midwest and I in the South. We went to different types of schools, we hung out at different types of places. And yet, when we would get together during the summer or during the holidays when we were kids, we'd always have some identical outfits, we'd have written poems with the same title. Sometimes it felt almost as if we were twins separated at birth. Well, as always it comes back to the insanity--amongst our striking similarities, we've found in our adulthood that our BIC is often nearly identical. We do some of the same things, unbeknownst to one another until after they're done. We laugh at things at which other people gasp.

This is proof positive that BIC is not just a theory; it is in fact, a scienfitic fact. We often joke that (among other genetic predispositions we possess), the men we eventually marry and with whom we procreate are playing Russian Roulette...since, obviously, we are indeed a little bit crazy. Harmless, but crazy. Hilarious, but crazy. You either love it or hate it. In any case, a hereditary positive is that we both have writing ability. And so it's with great pleasure that I officially introduce the first guest blogpost (it's a long one, but a quick read and besides, we're from a particularly long-winded clan) by my favorite BIC--a girl so wild I've often thought myself the only other woman who can fully appreciate her crazy. Although, I'm sure you will, too.
_____________________________________________________ BIC to me is like chivalry to some other people. It’s the code I live by. It affects decisions I make, my relationships with other people and my actions. On some level, BIC symbolizes self-actualization. It demonstrates my resolve to be true to myself at all costs including the marginal costs of behavior which is generally perceived to be irrational.

Having said this, for me to feel as though some particular action (or usually more accurately reaction) is worthy of being called out as BIC is significant. So take heed when I characterize an entire time period as BIC.

I know that some of my thoughts have been communicated on this blog via Ash, but I felt a proper introduction into my own take on BIC was necessary.

I’m not completely sure how to transition into insanity so forgive me if this is abrupt.

There’s this guy we’ll call Dan because it’s not his name but it’s similar. I am unequivocally in love with him. Problem: he lives in NY and I live in PA. Additionally, though he says we connect “emotionally, mentally and physically” he doesn’t believe it will work completely and permanently because I am too “crazy”, have “too many of the same faults” as he does, and though he won’t say it he believes I am incapable of settling down to the extent he deems necessary. Go figure.

So after much discussion and a borderline ultimatum from me we decided to hook-up while Dan was back in PA visiting. Honestly, great to see him, but I could feel him trying to be distant and it hurt. I’ll say it again, I’m reactionary.

His visit was last week, and by Friday my emotions were completely out of control. This resulted in several ridiculous text messages, and a crazy conversation on Friday.

Highlights of the phone call include: Me telling him I always believed he thought he was better than me;

Me crying (literally) for at least an hour and a half
(particularly funny because this came in response to his comment that I am so much stronger of a person than he is…also probably interesting to people who know me and know I don’t cry in front of other people);

and At least one hang-up for cause (meaning a tantrum on my part).

I suppose I have an obligation at this point to note his willingness to play along.

A sampling of text messages includes:
“My bed still smells like you and when I close my eyes, I can still feel your skin against mine. Wish you were still holding me.”

“Wish I could cut myself until the emotional pain showed thru…but don’t worry I lack the courage & can’t deal with the humiliation.”

and “I’m sorry I can’t keep things as neatly categorized as u”.

Dan really knows me, and has connected with me on a deeper level. I was with him when I found out my grandmother died and he held me while I cried. He understands I am dramatic and emotional. He read my poetry, gave me a journal to write my thoughts in (great impromptu gift), and even infuriated me once by paternalistically declaring that I should shift my focus, abandon my career and focus on (his perceptions of) my literary aspirations. This was further inflammatory as I found him audacious to say how I should spend my future while he opts out.

A BIC can see how my unresolved emotions, dissatisfaction, and borderline depression could drive me to call another guy who might respond more favorably…

So I met this guy who is younger than I am by about four years a few months back. He’s 23, and has all the impulsive insensitivity of a guy his age. Fortunately, we’ve kept things casual both emotionally and physically which affords me the luxury of being more amused by his behavior than hurt or upset.

So I called him Saturday night to shoot the breeze or see if he wanted to get a drink. He answered his phone like this: “Never call me again.” I will admit I was a bit offended and certainly indignant. I was at a loss and hung up the phone as there is no proper response to this. But not to be outdone by this kid, I sent him a text message which said “Cool J”. I added the smiley face because I figured he wanted a reaction, and my indifference might marginally hurt his pride. He’s really not worth fighting for as there is nothing substantial there.

This statement at face value is a little BIC but I’ll take that and let it hang unjustified and unexplained. I sometimes get a sense of people and can find reason in their irrationality. I knew the moment I hung up the phone that he would call me or text me on Monday.

In fairness maybe this is more the result of him telling me last time he pissed me off that he was going to “wait until things blew over to talk to me but he was glad I beat him to it”. That statement made only a couple weeks ago was doubly offensive as I was returning his call and who has this much audacity?

Oh, but he has more audacity….

There’s no way to adequately do him justice without just printing a transcription of our text conversation. It’s a real gem and I’m glad it’s in print so I can relay the insanity.

Him: “What’s up…..I didn’t see u callin like that…u okay?” [Just have to add there’s only that one phone call to him and he’s setting me up for his “defense”]

Me: “Who is this?” [I deleted his number following the unsavory comment, but I had a suspicion it was him.]

Him: “Rockie” [of course I had to change his name for this blog and I decided to give him the name of an epic hero for added comedic effect]

Me: “I erased ur # when u told me 2 never call u again. Remember that? U either have a girl or r completely insane.”

Him: “What?...who r u talking to like that…I didn’t even hve my phone wit me this weekend….get ur story together before u start accusing …aren’t u a lawyer?” [should point out that I spoke with him on Friday night so there’s a level of this statement which is inherently untrue]

Me: “Cool. So its crazy.”

Him: “Crazy?...what’s wrong wit u…I hvn’t done anything wrong to u…ur the wishy washy one…u know where I stand” [Read: “I’m attempting to distract you with an insult. Please take my bait and lose focus.” Also notable his stance has never been made clear.]

Me: “Ill play along. U oughta tell whoever pretended to b u on fri & said u had to get up early @ midnite then called my phone @ 2am & told me never 2 call again on Sat 2 quit playing games”

Him: “That’s was me who said I had to get up early and I called u back later bc I couldn’t sleep…”

Me: “Ur evil twin on sat?”

Him: “Prob my brother…” [Close enough. Lol]

Interestingly to further illustrate my amusement, I will point out that on Saturday after being instructed to never call this guy again, I went out to one of my favorite bars to encounter more male insanity and questionable reactions from myself. Even if I had the urge to contact him, I deleted his number and was unable and I was otherwise occupied…

[I said it before and I’ll say it again] A BIC can see how my unresolved emotions, dissatisfaction, and borderline depression could drive me to another guy who might respond more favorably…

So in true BIC fashion I remain utterly confused about this particular situation. Feeling incredibly vulnerable, rejected and somewhat pathetic I did what any self-respecting Black person would do--I went to the club. (Shoutout to anyone who ever heard the Martin Lawrence stand-up I’m referencing. Lol).

Once there I encountered this African guy who used to deal (in a somewhat elicit fashion) with an acquaintance of mine who is now happily engaged. Being (BIC-ly) alone at the bar I was a sitting target. He approaches and makes his interest known. I am clearly apprehensive but not in a position to completely refute as this would leave me completely alone with no one to talk to. We go dance (anyone who knows me can read into the word “dance” just how intoxicated a BIC was. J).

Fast-forward past his strangely intriguing fascination with the slim amount of flesh revealed between the top of my jeans and the edge of my shirt, and you’ll find one awkward kiss which left me both confused and feeling guilty. I’m not sure how much allegiance I owe my engaged acquaintance, and I know my interest in this guy is based solely on my own feelings of inadequacy. Just so wrong on so many levels. But I was completely captivated by this situation for the whole trip home and the entire 15 minutes between lying in bed (alone) and passing out.

Am I wrong for dealing with a fling of an acquaintance? And if a guy’s main interest in me is simply (for lack of a classier way to phrase this and in an attempt to capture his sentiment) to **ck me, do I owe him anything (or is it fair to use him in exchange…even though he’s clearly not going to meet his goal)?

A BIC can see how my unresolved emotions, dissatisfaction, and borderline depression could drive me to call another guy who might respond more favorably…?????????????

On another BIC note this guy J who lives about three hours from me decided that since it’s his spring break (he teaches handicapped kids) that he wants to come visit me. I have unequivocally decided he’s someone to be friends with but not date. I told him he could come visit the weekend after Easter. This begs the question why.

I just don’t know how to regain control. I’m like something rolling down a hill gaining momentum as it moves. The BIC getting bigger and bigger and bigger as it goes. To paraphrase Ash my “BIC slip” is pissy, stuck to my legs and I just can’t worm my way out of it.

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Monday, March 17, 2008

The Daily OMG: Heather Gets Paid

"The reason people have such extreme feelings about me is because I speak out and I speak the truth and they don't like it." -Heather Mills

This woman has nuts. BIC nuts. I mean, she's now worth $50 million so I can't really hate, but honestly, she was married to her husband for a whopping four years and he amassed the vast majority of his sizeable fortune before she was even born. Obviously, I don't know the man from Adam, but I'm pretty sure he had every intention of taking care of his daughter Beatrice. Her crazy horse mama might have been another story. But bygones, because the broad is now officially paid. I'm usually on the chick's side in these situations, but even I've got to say that she ought to be incredibly excited to have walked away from a four year marriage to a billionaire music legend with $50M. It was her incredible BIC behavior that landed her this cash, by the way--television and print magazine rants, last-minute claims of spousal abuse (which, who knows if that's true or not), lashing out at the press, and capping off the insanity with a stint on Dancing with the Stars.

The most commonly sited reason for divorce is "irreconcilable differences". Paul McCartney's reason in his file for divorce was "unreasonable behavior". For some reason, I really believe him.

I'm sure that we'll continue to hear from her as she continues to sue every publication that calls her a gold-digger. Congratulations, Heather...that's a whole lot of billable hours you've got there now.

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Throwback BIC

"last night I dreamed that I/whispered the words I love you/and touched you so very subtly/as we were kissing goodbye..." -Mariah Carey

If she's not my absolute fav, then Mariah Carey is definitely top five of my favorite contemporary female pop/R&B artists of all time (and I just have to add that that is in no way an affront to my beloved and adored Alicia, who I consider to be a soul artist--just so we have that clear). I've loved Mimi since 1991 when she rocked her natural curls and her old nose. She's talented, hilarious and crazy as a bedbug. So I love to see her pop up on the radar. We've all enjoyed Mariah's extreme diva behavior and loved her through--and because of--the BIC she bathes in daily.

But there was a time when Mariah was much less "MARIAH". Let's face it: the country apple "Dreamlover" and "Hero" days were fun, but relatively mild. When she dropped the geriatric act in upstate New York, though, watch out! "Honey" started the show and it was continued as she began to ease the ODB's and Jay-Z's into her music, but it wasn't until Mariah rolled up on this hot, hot hit in which she writhed blissfully up against a wall with a sexy 'hood dude that we really got to see Mariah's gangsta.

And because she's one of my favorites, I'll also throw in this wild footage of Mariah's Cribs appearance some years back that all the BIC chicks love if only because it's authentic MC:

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Sunday, March 16, 2008

A Big Weekend for BIC

"There aren't enough days in the weekend." -Rob Schmidt

Oh, but the BIC still managed to hit the fan. First, Toccara's BIC slip came all the way off in a Celebrity Fit Club tirade that I am still not able to watch without falling out in laughter:

You know we've all been there.

And Dr. Ian really needed to hush. He's married; he should know never to interrupt a BIC fit.

And one of my favorite permanent residents of BICville, Mariah Carey, made an appearance on SNL to debut the live performances to her current single "Touch My Body"--which is really, really extra and over the top (typical Mariah; gotta love it) and her new single "Migrate", which is just really, really hood. While it's always fun to watch Mariah tip-toe around the stage in five-inch heels pretending to dance, it does, unfortunately, qualify as BIC that she continues to do live performances of her uptempo hits, performances which are almost always horrible to the point of sadomasochism:

And...in DIC news, Obama's church is in no danger of running out of ignorant Negroes any time soon. The new pastor, Rev. Dr. Otis Moss III--who I admit makes me flirt with the idea of being a congregation's First Lady for the first time in my life--is still a member of Obama's campaign in a spiritual advisory capacity.

Despite this, he decided to give Sean Hannity a little shoutout anyway--from the pulpit. How about bucking at political pundits should be saved for after Barack wins the nomination, let alone the general election! I mean, I'm not mad at the church for doing itself--black folks everywhere know how the Black church gets down with social issues--but we all also know that Black people have a real problem holding their tongues when they should. MAN. Anyhow, my newest understanding is that the folks at Trinity UCC are now angry with Barack for denouncing some of Rev. Wright's more controversial comments. Hmm... hate to say it, but TUCC is increasingly giving off a slight crabs in a barrell stench. Not surprised.

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Saturday, March 15, 2008

Greatestlove

"after the pain/you come and love me/and i welcome you/you're a glad sight to see..."

-Betty Wright

I am sitting here thinking about one of my best friends, Autumn. She and I rarely see each other anymore, as she's getting her Ph.D. on the East Coast and I'm worming my way into the upper echelon of the entertainment industry out West. Our lives couldn't be more dissimilar. We're both pretty busy, so when we talk, we don't usually brief each other on every minute detail of our lives, we hit the big stuff. She and I have a lot of hilarious memories, especially where men are concerned. She's watched me bop under- and above water in my love life, and I've also watched her struggle through maintaining a steady love equilibrium herself. Oh, the stories we could tell...us stalking unfaithful partners, catching men in all kinds of lies, blindly coaching each other into even worse romantic situations than we found one another...I laugh just thinking about it. We still seem so young, but I forget that we are definitely growing older, which is probably why I was both shocked and surprised the other day to hear my dear friend say words I have never heard from her: "Ashleigh, I'm so happy. We really love each other." When I typically hear words like this from friends, they're preceded by "well, I know he cheated but..." or "I know none of you like him but...". So shockingly, for one of the first times in my adult life I was able to smile (actually I couldn't control my cheesing) and respond "Oh, Aut, I'm so happy for you!" It was one of the highlights of my day.

As awful as dating can be, there are some truly amazing relationships out there and there are some very happy women. But you'd never know it to hear the majority of conversations between us. We're either complaining about who we're with or complaining about being lonely--sometimes both. So it's refreshing to hear women who are truly in love and truly happy. But, I don't think it's quite as rare as convention would have it seem. It seems to me, as I tossed this around in my head today, that's it more about the fact that women are less willing to share their joy than their pain. And this is a serious problem. As a person who believes that as humans we speak truth to power, I believe that this spirit of malcontent in love relationships often comes from the persistence of negative language within our conversations about men and love.

Where are all the good websites and forums for women to talk about how blissful they are in their relationships? We know there's places to talk about cheating men, there are places to talk about worthless/no-good men...but where can a girl go when she's in love? Especially with someone who's worth their love?

Even more important, where are the friends you go to with your joy? Many women today have reached such relationship lows that none of their girlfriends that find love even want to take their happiness around them for fear of looking as though they're bragging or even further hurting a lonely friend. I, for one, think this desperately needs to change. When we stop to think of the last time we heard a beautiful love anecdote or story from a friend, we shouldn't have to mentally file through horror stories of abuse, lies and unreliability. Women need to start sharing their joy in love and encouraging their friends in love, not be crabs in a barrel holding each other back from reaching the promised land.

Love is a gift and being in love is, to me, directly under love from God. So share the bad because that's what friends are for. But the next time a man rocks your world with a beautiful, pure, genuine act of affection and you can't stop smiling about falling in love, don't just smile privately. Put a call in to a good girlfriend or write an email and tell another lady about it. Share the love!!

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Throwback BIC

"i just want it to be/you and me/like it used to be baby/but you don't know how to act..." -Erykah Badu

White, Black, yellow, Puerto Rican and Haitian...there's not a broad alive who wasn't feeling our girl when this cut dropped. In a 1997 sea of somber romantic ballads with lyrics like "don't speak...don't tell me cuz it hurts", "unbreak my heart...say you'll love me again", and "dreams last for so long...even after you're gone", Erykah, as usual, stepped right outside of the box and then stepped on it.

Instead of lamenting a lost love or begging for one to come back, she actually said what many women have wanted to say and needed to say. She did it with sex appeal and a slight neck roll that made us cheer for and with her. When she told that man to call his homeboy to come help him get the h-e-double hockey sticks out of her crib, she did with class and composure, without being either bitchy or timid. And that was it: we loved her because she was cool, calm, firm, and she knew what she wanted. No one would dare call Erykah a pushover.

At least not on her phone.

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Friday, March 14, 2008

Ladies Is Pimps Too

"i've been a bad bad girl/i've been careless with a delicate man/and it's a sad sad world/when a girl will break a man just because she can..." -Fiona Apple

The first time I felt bad about the way I'd treated a guy was in high school, when Chris Bookman* asked me to the prom two days after I'd agreed to go with my actual date, Patrick. The thing was, I didn't know Patrick very well but I didn't have a boyfriend at that time and he was very cute; however, Chris and I joked in Spanish Immersion every day, we had some playful sexual tension (well, as tense as a horny-but-still-prudish 17 year-old virgin could get), and we sometimes cheated on pop grammar quizzes together (never tests!). I wasn't really attracted to him physically although we had a little chemistry, and I knew that he had been hinting and gearing up to ask me for weeks. At the time, I told myself it was just fate that Patrick and I had agreed to go first, but looking back shortly after the dust of prom mania settled, I realized I may have egged Chris on quite a bit and then decided that he wasn't really fit to accompany me and my tight red dress and new bob to the event, me being Prom Court Princess and all. The last few weeks of school were quite tense in class. I sensed he was embarrassed and a little hurt, and he and I were never quite the same again. Of course the rest of this little tale in the trajectory of my life story is that I went on to college to wrap myself up in two of the most worthless relationships that ever traipsed about the dating world. Karma? The world may never know.

Women love to talk about men that have done them wrong. It's actually one of our favorite topics and let me tell you why: because no matter what socioeconomic status, what social class, what ethnicity, what race, what background, what school, dropdead gorgeous, busted as whoshotJohn, short, tall, thin, fat, babygotback or baby's back is long as hell...we have ALL been through the romantic spin cycle at least once. The cross to bear of being a man is that it's actually a rite of passage to break a woman's heart, whether intentionally or unintentionally. Of course, some of them take it too far and become addicted to the high...and let's face it, this blog was created because of men like that. However that thing goes, women of all shapes, sizes, colors, religions, and hair lengths know how love can go terribly wrong and as long as enough time has passed, the stories are typically funny as hell.

What women don't talk about quite so often, however, is how we are also prone to this treatment of men--probably moreso because men perk up at the mere assumption of attention from a woman while women are naturally slightly more nonchalant, guarded and cautious about responding to men's advances. We bond over men's infliction of emotional pain. Amongst each other, we're able to talk freely about how hurt we've been and we acknowledge how shaped we are by men's treatment of us, and yet we rarely discuss how sensitive men can be to our games, dismissals, and betrayals. And what's more is we rarely disseminate how the two are interrelated. Do men treat us a certain way because they've been treated a certain way, or do we treat them a certain way because of their historical treatment of us? Of course, there's no easy answer and it varies from person to person, but it's worth examination.

Of course, as with most posts on this blog, this topic comes from personal experience. Because I've spent the past few years embroiled in relationship drama of which the vast majority of the problem could not be attributed to me, it's easy for me to forget my own transgressions in the world of romance. I've written about my Dave, who I'm very fortunate to have been able to get back as a close friend in the past couple of years after some very bad/clinically insane behavior/series of personal choices in 2003 that abruptly ended our promising romance.

But recently, I was reminded once again of how cold I can be with men and it disturbed me. I won't get into specifics, but I wasn't very nice or considerate to a guy who did nothing but work to please me and acknowledge his very touching feelings for me. Attractive, ambitious, successful, cool as a fan, God-fearing and admirably dedicated to his family, I made someone worthy of my respect something to pass the time with while I tapped my proverbial fingernails on another situation with someone else. He talked about marriage and I knew that he felt that I'd make a great wife and I subtly played into his fantasies in that area, all the while with zero intention of ever letting him slip a ring on my finger.

The appropriate thing to do, of course, would have been to let him know that my heart wasn't in the situation from jump, especially since he was so intense, but I got all my perks from the relationship--the company, the treats, the companionship. Sure, it may have taken me a couple days to return his calls, but what did I care? He wasn't my focus anyhow. Well, it was not until I spoke to him recently that I understood how much my lackadaisical approach to our relationship and in some cases, my incredible rudeness, affected him. I love to talk about how relationships don't work out, as many women do, but until we--until I-- fully acknowledge that the common thread in my non-working relationships is me, I will never overcome. So I'm dusting my shoulders off, but making a declaration that living life like it's golden includes living by the golden rule...in life and in love.

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Thursday, March 13, 2008

They're Baaa-aack

"I don't believe in email. I'm an old-fashioned girl. I believe in calling and hanging up." -Carrie Bradshaw

Sorry. I'm a SATC geek and I'm just too excited not to do this:

Don't mind me. I'm just biding time until May 30th.

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Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Throwback BIC

"put your hands on his cash/and spend it to the last dime/for all the hard times..." -Blu Cantrell

Any woman worth her salt knows if you want to hurt a man in revenge you ruin his car. Any BIC worth her weight should know that if you want to kill a man you ruin his entire financial situation. Blu Cantrell, though currently a feature on the proverbial "how the mighty have fallen" artist list, had a monster hit describing every woman's dream shopping spree--ballin' on a cheating man's dime. Zero guilt, $1000 kicks? Doesn't get much better.

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Ummm...Subscribe Much?

"By all means move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me." -Miranda Priestly

I have a site meter that has informed me that several hundred people happen to be visiting this site weekly, several hundred of which have no subscription to it. It's baffling to me why this is happening when it so clearly benefits you to just subscribe. All I ask is for you to put your email address in the subscription box at the top of the page to your right and you'll be informed when a new blog goes up. Is it impossible to do this? I don't think so. This saves you the trouble of coming when there's nothing new and informs you when there is something new. It's all so deeply simplistic.

That's all.

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Tuesday, March 11, 2008

The Daily OMG

"If Obama was a white man, he would not be in this position. And if he was a woman (of any color), he would not be in this position. He happens to be very lucky to be who he is. And the country is caught up in the concept."

-Geraldine Ferraro

I shy away from uber political posts on this blog because I get hot under the collar and carried away. But I was sick when I saw this today and am just getting a minute to respond. It's probably something of a moot point, but I just have to say something. This is my soapbox and I offer apologies in advance for anyone I offend:

Even though I [regrettably] have an awful sailor mouth that I am constantly trying to temper, I really try not to curse on this site (in spite of the title) because I want it to be as respectable as possible and I want to make sure I don't step tootoo far outside of my place as a Christian woman, but this bitch Geraldine Ferraro is insane. Looney. Batty as they come. Crazy as a gooney bird. Three bricks shy of a load, as my father would say. The gall of this ridiculous woman--who, might I add, had a pretty thin resume upon her 1984 selection as Democratic VP candidate and who also has a history of racist comments--to assert with a straight face that Barack Obama is "lucky" to be a Black man versus a white woman.

Excuse me? Did you miss the past 400 years, you brainless biddy? Didya miss the Middle Passage? Didya miss the auction block? The vast majority of the incredibly racist 20th century? Colored fountains, movie sections? Emmett Till?? I'll even ask if you missed Clarence Thomas and I can't even stand that spineless freak. Harder...to be a woman...a white woman...than to be a black man? Can you be any more crazy? I despise "the race card" but this deserves some attention.

White women have had it hard in their efforts to be equal to White men. I will never deny that. It's been difficult in the world of politics, in the corporate world, in the religious world. That's far from lost on me. Why? Because I'm a woman. But you know what else I am, Geraldine? I am a Black woman. And that makes me an amazingly unique voice on this topic. That makes me able to stand back--without scorn from any race or other gender and point out that while White women in this country had their feet propped up in their colonial plantation homes, Black men toiled their husbands' land. Just the same, Black women fed their children and cooked their food. I won't go through the historical litany of struggle comparisons because it is redundant, old, tired. Just realize that White women, despite being denied equal standing in many professions in this country, have not had to fight for their lives and livelihoods the way that Black men have, period. I understand your frustration at seeing one of your own do so poorly when you wish she was doing better, but please, Geraldine, do not be so intellectually inept as to equate not being able to get a job or being underpaid for the one you have for several hundred years with fearing for your life for several hundred years. Please do not be so ridiculous as to equate the extreme protection and security the White woman has been subjected to with the extreme hatred and invidiousness to which her Black male counterpart has been subjected. Please do not be so absurd as to ignore the national pedestal the White woman has been put on since the impetus of this country's search for identity. Please do not ignore the simultaneous '3/5 of a man' categorization of Black men in this country.

You also added that you are being attacked "because [you are] white". You said: "Any time anybody does anything that in any way pulls this campaign down and says let's address reality and the problems we're facing in this world, you're accused of being racist, so you have to shut up. Racism works in two different directions. I really think they're attacking me because I'm white. How's that?" You went on to say: "Every time that campaign is upset about something, they call it racist. I will not be discriminated against because I'm white. If they think they're going to shut up Geraldine Ferraro with that kind of stuff, they don't know me." So...you're being attacked because you're a little short on melanin? Possibly. But far more likely, Gerry, you are being "attacked" because you are racist. Otherwise, you wouldn't accuse the Obama campaign, which has notably and obviously avoided the topic of race as much as possible, of being race-mongers when the only times the issue of race has been injected into this campaign it's been thanks to Mr. and Mrs. William Jefferson Clinton and their staff. Moreoever, you wouldn't not be accused of being racist had you not brought up the subject of race yourself, a topic which no one else was addressing. And furthermore, if every vote Barack Obama had gotten was because he's Black (which is so far from the truth it's utterly laughable) then I say God Bless America. How awesome is it to live in a country where a person who was considered 3/5 of a man not even a full 200 years ago can lead it not only in power, but towards a more hopeful, unified future? How's that?

When's the last time you had trouble getting a taxi, Geraldine? Did you think it was because you were a woman? When's the last time someone clutched their purse because you walked by? When, before you made these incredible comments, did someone last threaten to kill you for being successful? This country was built on the fear and vile, nonsensical hatred of Black men as White women historically walked across puddles on top of coats. So we get it, Gerry. You know about being a woman. But let me ask you this: how much do you know about being a Black woman? Trust me, if you knew a thing about it you'd shut your ignorant trap and take a seat. Because that pedestal I referenced has never been extended to us. Yeah, so you have a little trouble getting that last 25 cents to a man's dollar, you have some trouble getting time off to take care of your children, you have some trouble being taken seriously when you get back from maternity leave. Well, guess what? Before that was even a consideration, women who looked like me were leaving their children early in the morning to do housework for ladies who lunch and who look like you. Zora Neale Hurston said the black woman was the "mule of the world". And today's Black women might not feel that as much as they did when Hurston wrote the words, but we still have the common sense and experience to know what the hell she was talking about. Sojourner Truth said it best several hundred years ago when she asked "
ain I a woman?" Because Black women are women. We struggle with the same things White women struggle with. But there's one major difference: we have to be Black first. So before you get on your prejudicial high horse to say how "lucky" someone is, get your crazy ass to a mirror and tell the woman you see there how very "lucky" she is first.

Geraldine, you are the old Democratic party and what's even sadder is that you are playing the same old tired games that lost you and Walter Mondale the 1984 election. You've been on the wrong side of what the public wants more than once, and you're now there more than ever. No one is talking about what you are talking about. You're singing even though the choir's seated. You're dancing even though the music has stopped. Your BIC slip is around your ankles and you're peeing on it. You're a has-been, a polarizing, old guard political figure just like the woman you're supporting.

And let me say this: I don't think for minute that Hillary Clinton isn't tapping her sensible shoes in glee over your comments because she's been thinking exactly what you said. And I don't think for a minute that you weren't unleashed with these moronic comments to influence the bigot vote. This is the worst kind of politics, right up there with the disgustingly hateful mailings of the 2000 Republican primary about John McCain's non-existent illegitimate Black child (he has an adopted dark-skinned daughter from Bangladesh). Listen, I hate to sound anything like the Nader lunatics that surface every election cycle talking about how both parties are evil and we need another choice, but if Senator Clinton wins the nomination of the DNC, then the Democratic party can kiss my vote goodbye for the rest of my natural life. I can't vote for McCain because the choice of Supreme Court judges means too much to me. I will write in Barack Obama's name, my name, Krusty the Klown's name if I have to. And I will do all that I can to ensure that every other minority that I know avoids voting for a party that has historically taken minority votes for granted and is now demonizing those same votes for pulling the lever with their heart. The gloves are off. I'm disgusted and can't in good conscience vote for this woman now, even though I'd planned to (and been super excited to) since her national introduction to this country in 1991. Sadly, it's becoming increasingly apparent that the Hillary Rodham Clinton I thought would one day be president doesn't even seem to exist.

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Sunday, March 9, 2008

BIC Loves...

"I will not lose..." -Rocawear

The Rocawear "I Will Not Lose" Campaign is really, really hot. I think it's exactly what kids today need...shoot, it's what a lot of grown folks today need! It really emphasizes reaching your personal best and overcoming in a palatable language for both youth and adults. I love it. Anyhow, even though a lot of people think she's over the top hood (and she is), there's something very authentic and watchable about Toccara Jones. She's looking great after a stint on Celebrity Fit Club and she looks "fabulous" on the March cover of King Magazine [thx CL]. I particularly like her "I Will Not Lose" video, so I decided to post it. The other campaign videos, equally enjoyable and inspiring, can be found at http://www.iwillnotlose.org/. (Definitely check out Jamila Farrakhan's)...

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Friday, March 7, 2008

The Daily OMG

"she is a monster, too--that is off the record--she is stooping to anything." -Samantha Power

I see where she was going, but what high-level presidential campaign official
speaks this way to any reporter? I know these things get stressful and tensions run high, but Lord have mercy this was dumb. Or worse...it was BIC.

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Thursday, March 6, 2008

Relationship Sharecropping

"[Rappers] are not talking about no collegiate basketball girls who have made it to the next level in education and sports. We're talking about hoes that's in the 'hood that ain't doing sh**, that's trying to get a ni**a for his money. These are two separate things."
-Snoop

(I don't even want to give this disrespectful ish any shine, but to accent the point...)

I have a lot of favorite blogs and websites that I visit, some daily and some occasionally/when I remember. That being said, I hardly ever post something from another site on my own since I created this blog to be stuffed with original content and original thoughts. Moreover, I try to address female issues from a universal standpoint since, although we have decidedly different experiences from various race to ethnicity, there are just some universal truths about being a woman that tend to apply to us all. On something of a side note: Snoop's comment above, is, of course, ridiculous. I see what he's trying to say but he's just wrong, the same way folks who call educated Black people "good blacks" or "not really black". It's insulting to insinuate that I'm somehow above the public humiliation and societal contempt some of my sisters receive because I happen to have been privileged and blessed enough to be raised well and educated. I have cousins and friends who fall into the "hoes that's in the hood that ain't doing sh**" and I don't want to turn on the radio and hear about them bending over for some cash and a ride in a luxury vehicle, either.

This being said, I found
this particular post from another site too important not to share in hopes that one more woman might see it. I also happen to think that my site's purpose is in many ways related to the purpose of the site I'm referencing, particularly this particular post. Much of the disrespect and frustration women experience in interpersonal relationships with men has to do with this idea of pop culture as a frame of reference for Generation Yers, the unrealistic expectations men have of women and the increasing disrespect and disregard men are permitted to have for women--as well as the disrespect women subsequently permit. The site I'm speaking of, whataboutourdaughters.com, is always insightful, and in the post I've linked above she talks about an idea of "independent women" as spouted by the hip-hop community.

You'd think it would be wonderful to find that today's evolved man is looking for an independent woman, but "independent" in today's society is relative, and we find in hip-hop that it often falls into the trap of men just wanting to know a woman's "independent" so that she won't rely on him financially, emotionally or mentally. Well, of course women need to get up, get out and get their own. That's a given. But to just accept the fact that men will only be around when they need some trim is insulting as hell. Anyhow, this article speaks volumes. Like I've said before and will say again--I love hip-hop...but if it doesn't ever love me back, then what are we really doing?

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Wednesday, March 5, 2008

The Daily OMG

"We haven 't dated long enough for breakup sex."

-someecards.com

The perfect side dish to your increasingly detectable mania in a relationship? The web's big new hit
someecards.com. Don't you sometimes wish relationships were like Liar, Liar (yeah, you've seen it: Jim Carrey...right) and everyone had to tell the truth about the important things people gloss over before it's too late? The honest truth is that no one wants to have important conversations. They're a buzz kill in friendships and a sexual tension murderess in romance. But some things are necessary to say and a little brevity always helps the situation. As I say with everything, do it with humor and a smile! And a humor and smile are exactly what you find at

someecards.com
.
They're a great way to request H.I.V. tests, let someone know you're pregnant or they're fat, or just generally highlight the inadequacies of their contribution to a relationship without being overbearing. The site's tagline is "when you care enough to hit send" and the tongue-in-cheek satire you find in the card's delivers at every turn. I fully encourage you to do what's truly inappropriate and send these cards as a way to introduce uncomfortable topics in relationships--not just with men but with everyone in your life! Just the other day I sent my cousin one to let her know I was thinking of her. It read "if you were pregnant, I'd mapquest directions to the abortion clinic." How's that to break up the monotony of the day? In fact, if I start feeling a little down in the middle of the day, I browse the site for kicks. I haven't laughed so hard in quite some time.

There are cards for birthdays and breakups, thinking of you as well as thank yous, flirting as well as farewell...even sympathy cards. Some of them are mildly offensive, some extremely. But you know the drill: if they can't take a joke...

[Thx Ro]

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