Monday, December 29, 2008

Happy Is As Happy Weighs

"it really all depends on/whatever feels good in my soul..."--India.Arie

A recent study of U.K. women and body image revealed that size 14 women are happiest with their lives, while size 6 are among the least happy. Knowing women's tendency towards constant dissatisfaction, I'm willing to bet that a vast majority of those fourteens are most happy that they're not eighteens and the sixes are pissed because they're not fours.

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Daily BIC: Annoyed Before Her Time

"if you don't know me by now/then you'll never, never, never know me..."--Teddy Pendergrass

To the public: Caroline Kennedy had an interview with four NY Times reporters about her candidacy for Hillary's senate seat. To Caroline: She had to suffer through ridiculous, political questions for an unprecedented amount of time. While she made some good points about her taking on the job (such as the fact that someone with the same attention-grabbing background and name should replace Hillary, who had major star power that she put to work for NY), she came off as more than a little irritated by some of the questions posed, as evidenced by nearly every answer she provided. As much as I like Caroline and think she'd bring some great skills and background to the job, I have to question how much right she has to be annoyed at having to have a serious interview for basically the first time in her life.

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Throwback BIC: You Gets No Love

"played with my emotions/you gets no devotion..."--Faith Evans

In honor of the upcoming Biggie movie, I thought we should handle how his ex-wife fits into our schema. There are endless examples to confirm that Faith is clearly crazy, not least of all the choice to marry Christopher "Biggie Smalls" Wallace after a couple dates. Or better yet, at all. In any case, we've loved her from the first time we met her. From chillin in her bra in the "One More Chance" video--to her recent admission of beating Lil' Kim after catching her in the bed with her husband, it's been BIC the whole way.

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Stop It Please 2009

"gotta get somethin off my chest..."--Destiny's Child

Time for our Annual Top Ten list of things that have got to go in the coming year. As always, I'm sure you will agree.

10. Black Celebrity Women Marrying Gay Men Like It's Okay

Ladies, you are setting a horrible example. Here we are, dropping like flies from HIV, and you're steady having big lavish weddings with blatant homosexuals. Meanwhile, you're acting like your life is a Harlequin romance novel. The charade ends here. I understand wanting a metrosexual. It's perfectly normal to desire someone who likes to shop, drink red wine and trim his pubic hair. But it's not okay if he has had, is having, or could possibly indulge in sex with a man. Note: saying that you've "discussed" his past and you're okay with whoever he used to be does not fly. If a man has sexual urges for another man, please want better for yourself.

9. Sarah Palin

Okay, enough. Are we really going to be forced to take this woman seriously clear until the 2012 Republican primaries? It should be unrealistic that a woman who so flagrantly uses the word "also" to gather ultimately intellectually incurious thoughts should be allowed within fifty feet of the White House after the debacle that was President Bush. The thought of she and her brood of hillbillies leading the country should frighten the mess out of every American. The thought of her winking at America while screwing up our entire legal system and international image is terrifying. Her own running mate wouldn't even vote for her! But then again, if America was ever dumb enough to go for that one, then we would actually deserve her.

8. Tyra Banks Daytime Antics

For the second year in a row, I'm going to ask: Tyra, please shut your daytime operation down. We're all big ANTM fans. We all love your entreprenuerial spirit and admire the inroads you've made. But it must be said: your show sucks. Once again, though you're obviously a very bright woman, your show completely belies your intelligence. You alternate between sounding like a kindergarten teacher and a hoodrat and thus, your unabashed Oprah-biting is all in vain. We're all embarrassed--for ourselves and you, as well. Do what you know in your heart is right.

7. R. Kelly

The man is a genius; no one is arguing against that. He's a beast with a melody, the King of the Remix and innovative as hell. He's also a certifiably insane sex addict with just a dash of pedophilia. It's cool to ride out to his music and no one can ever erase the memories we have with oldies-but-goodies like "Bump & Grind" or "12 Play". I, for one, am the original R. Kelly fan. Everyone remembers Public Announcement: classic. But after the man peed on a child before having anal sex with her, we should have all recoiled just a bit. But oh, no. Not the Black community. We stuck by OJ and by and large, we appear to have decided to ride this out with Kels. After he was acquitted earlier this year, Black women everywhere took to the Internet to not only proclaim their newfound faith in our justice system but to rail against the *child* who R effectively pissed on. It got so hot that NPR and Newsweek decided to write about it. Unacceptable.

6. Michael Jackson

I don't want to ever see another picture or hear another thing about present-day Michael Jackson. The man is terrifying to look at and even scarier to think about. The MJ we adore is the "Billie Jean", "Thriller", hell, even "Butterflies" MJ, the MJ of Neverland with the monkeys. I think the ranch menagerie was about as far as the collective public was willing to take it--dangling babies, walking around with half a nose...these are things that are just heartbreaking to watch. He will always be a genius, and it's obvious that he will always have "it" to some degree, we have to be honest about the visual, not to mention the concept of him. I think we all have to agree that the wind done blown.

5. Complaining About the Economy

I'm begging everyone to fight the urge to blame everything on the economy. If I hear one more declaration about who's not buying what, what stores are closing, or how close to street urchin we all are, I will die. Roll this around: things always come back around, and more importantly, if you have the right ideals and put God first, then the economy isn't even your source--so don't sweat it. Some good advice, also: "be fearful when others are greedy, and greedy when others are fearful". Warren Buffet--'nuff said.

4. Treating President Obama Like a Rock Star

Believe me, I have to practice what I preach here. But we have to stop treating this man with a very serious job like Us Weekly fodder. He has enough to handle running the country; I really don't want paparazzi to be on his list of concerns. Plus, as much as we all want to watch he and Michelle swan and Malia and Sasha grow up, we need to respect that they're a regular family that's been thrust really quickly into the spotlight and deserves to retain some semblance of privacy.

3. Milking Sex and the City

SATC was good. It was really good. I was obsessed with the show, and the movie was fabulous. But now we're starting to seem a little desperate. Actually, really desperate. Can't anyone else in Hollywood come up with another great HBO show for women to latch onto?

2. Transexuality

I have no problems with the way people want to live their lives--wanna be a woman when you weren't born one? Fine! Just dying to pee standing up when you were born to sit down? Just as well. But let's draw the line at a nation going ga-ga over a "pregnant man" who is clearly. not. a. man. Here's the long and short of it: only women get pregnant. Some facial hair, a sock down your pants and a wife doesn't override the uterus, ovaries and vajayjay with which you entered the world. So, guess what Thomas Beatie? You're a chick, evidenced by the second baby gestating in your womb. Now, it's possible that I'm just a "very tolerant, very rational-sounding sort of bigot", but while I have no problem with various racial, ethnic, cultural and professional identifications in our beautiful melting pot society, I do have a problem with confusing and complicating sexual identification. I don't care what sexual preference someone has at all. Front, back, side, ear...it's your choice where you put it and I have no judgment. But I do care what people call themselves. Calling yourself a man while you're four centimeters dilated is ridiculous and even more annoying are those who chose to completely refuse gender "labels". You're either a man or you're a woman; choose one and stick with it. Life is too short to spend time struggling to decide which pronoun to assign people when there are two hard options that are easily distinguishable from one another.

1. Not Subscribing to BIC

Last time, folks: y'all are still just stopping by every day and not getting a subscription. Please don't be eternally engaged to my site. It's easy to just enter your email addy into the box towards the top of the right sidebar and make the relationship official. I'm counting on you!

Happy New Year!!!!

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Cry, Baby

"for each tear/forgive me/it was unintentional/that i made you cry..."--Jesse Powell

As a BIC from way back, I'm intrigued by any loss of emotional control. Partake; enjoy.

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Thursday, December 25, 2008

R.I.P. BIC

"maaar-cus..."--Lady Eloise

Who doesn't think of Eartha Kitt whenever they hear someone clap lights on? Crazy enough to audition on a whim for Katherine Dunham's dance company as a teen and crazy enough to become one of the biggest stars of the 20th century, the unstoppable diva lost a battle with colon cancer on Christmas Day 2008. Rest in peace.

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Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays Everyone!!

"have yourself a merry little christmas..."--Various Artists

Looking forward to getting to know everyone better in the new year! Thank you for what you've made TheBisCrazy.com in the 14 months we've been in the blogosphere, and look forward to making many new friends and having an amazing year as we blaze our new path. Bear hugs and juicy kisses to everyone, and please remember that Jesus is the Reason for the Season! See you back here next Monday...

xoxo AMB

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Daily DIC: Sex = Love

"it was raining/you were crying/when you gave it to me..."--Jon B.

There are few things more disgusting than having Dennis Prager tell you to have sex with your husband even when you aren't in the mood. Read on for the full extent of my wrath.

I fully understand the concept of loving someone--or in the case having sex with someone--not just when you want it, but when they need it. Point taken. And I think that many women do--and should--sacrifice of themselves in a marriage or serious relationship, when appropriate. But this ridiculous article comes off as though there's some sort of sick pussy mandate out on the women on the world. It completely invalidates the feelings of women, not to mention any slither of male responsibility. Did Dennis the Menace ever stop to think of any of the reasons why a woman wouldn't want to have sex with her husband? Does he even blithely take into account male patterns of behavior that encourage sexual listlessness in relationships?

Sure, there are women who stop having sex after they're married. I'd make the argument that the vast majority of the time they're women who never really enjoyed having it in the first place, and a man should know and understand who he is marrying when he marries her. If he has an insatiable sex drive, then he ought to find a woman who has the same drive--there will be little (other than medical or biological reasons) that would prevent her from having the intercourse she also craves. But more often than not, women are willing and happy--excited, even--to "give themselves", in Mr. Prager's words, to their husbands when the men are deserving. When they're not, that's a whole other bowl of beans to snap. Not to mention, let's not get into when the tables are turned and there's a man who's no longer interested in sex. In that case the wife would be labeled insensitive and unreasonable for her requests.

Prager makes the fundamental argument that men "clam up" when sex is withheld, and women then act ignorant about the cause of this distance when they should be stripping down and riding their husbands to sleep every night. Well, what about the husbands who would still be "distant" even with sex? What about the men who actually think that sex is communication and see no reason to communicate outside of intercourse? Well, let me explain what silence and lack of connection breeds in a relationship: resentment and frustration in the woman, which leads to--you got it, decreased sex drive and zero desire to be "close" to their man. If a woman begins to feel that the only way she can relate to a man is through sex, she will "clam up", as well. In Dennis' world, that probably then gives her husband allowance to screw her in her sleep with a pillow over her face. He actually put pen to paper and thought before writing "a woman who denies the man she loves sex is not kind."

Men should understand what they need to do to make the woman in their life feel amorous. Most women, if they have to cook, clean the house, feed, bathe and discipline the kids and work, don't feel like having sex at the end of the day. They feel like sleeping so they can get up and do it all again the next day. If men yearn to have more sex then they need to cultivate a sexy enough environment to get what they want. Help out or better yet, hire someone who can. If your wife is burned out, relieve her of some of her stress so that she has more time, energy, desire and creativity to sex you up. Otherwise, shut up and enjoy the smoothness of the life she's creating for you.

Men need to be more concerned with the role they play in a sexual downturn and with women's feelings, not just about how they can g some extra undeserved romps with the woman they're not satisfying. Deal with the root of the problem and there won't be a problem. And furthermore, if a husband is going to demand sex and take it if it's not given to him, he needs to be a whole hell of a lot sexier than Dennis Prager.

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Tuesday, December 23, 2008

On The Pulse of A New Morning

"the thugged out/pimped out/ images release them/save those roles/for the young souls who believe them/i want the undefineable/indescribable and more..."--Tamia

No disrespect to Rita Dove or Maya Angelou or my beloved Nikki Giovanni, but it's nice to see some new Black female poets on the national scene getting some shine. Elizabeth Alexander gets the chance to show her flow on Inauguration day next month, and I'm excited to see what she's got. She looks like she's got the potential for some BIC...I hope she slips some in on January 20th.

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Lazy Swimmers

"thank you/God bless you/goodnight/i came..."--Kanye West

In an effort to answer that age-old question of how to best pleasure a woman, men may feel that they've finally found an answer. It's unfortunate that we're going to be labeled castrating when we tell them they're wrong.

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The Big Payback Remixed

"you gonna pay what you owe..."--Riley Freeman

In honor of the holidays, I'm reprinting my holiday tribute from last year. It's still true! Other than a few links I've updated for this year, it's untouched. Enjoy...

“I Have A Dream: Christmas 20072008”

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest concept of satisfying women in the history of our nation.

In just under a month, a great holiday, which stands symbolically in the shadow of Jesus’ birth, will come to pass. This momentous occasion comes as a great beacon light of hope to millions of women who have been shopping the Internet for months, surveying clothes, shoes, travel, expensive memberships, spa visits and rare vintage literature and photography, who have been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It comes as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their heartbreak.

Even after centuries of overcoming male oppression and disappointment, the Woman still is not free. Years later, her life is still sadly crippled by the manacles of mistreatment and the chains of neglect. She is still languishing in the corners of true love and emotional fulfillment and finds herself an exile in her own land. So we have come here today to dramatize shameful conditions.

In a sense we have come to cash a check. When women created Cosmopolitan and Mademoiselle, they were signing a promissory note to which every man was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all girls, yes, girls as well as women, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of passion, accountability, consideration, intimacy, affection and the pursuit of commitment.

Instead of honoring this sacred desire, men have given the Woman a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of amorous justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of passion of this nation. So, this Christmas will be a very special Christmas for us. We have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the new relationships of our hearts' desire and the warm blanket of Santa’s benevolence. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind the male persuasion of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of avoiding the malls or to take the tranquilizing drug of singular gifting. Now is the time to make real the commercial and completely fabricated reason for the season. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of despair to the sunlit path of red boxes with gold ribbons...or blue boxes with white ones. Now is the time to lift ourselves from the quick sands of romantic injustice to the solid rock of demonstrated devotion.

It would be fatal to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of Woman’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of Christmas presents and New Year’s kisses—and presents. 2007 is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Woman needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the penis-bearing set returns to business as usual. There will be neither cellular silence nor cessation of texts or emails in relationships until the Man has granted Christmas wishes, however huge and however ridiculous. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of his sex life until the bright day of do-right emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my ladies who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining all we deserve we must not be guilty of undervaluing ourselves. Let us not seek to satisfy solely our thirst for material goods by drinking from the cup of coming up.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into sex without strings. Again and again we must make men rise to the majestic heights of meeting the expensive present force with the soul force.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking us, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the stocking is empty and our beds are cold. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies and minds are heavy with the fatigue of fighting against men’s degradation, humiliation and underestimation. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until we get what it is we have coming to us.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream today that I will look up to find myself in love with someone worth my time, someone who understands my needs—spiritually, emotionally, physically, materially…intrinsically.

I have a dream today ladies.

I have a dream that I will soon find myself in a new relationship with someone who writes me poems and love letters every now and then, just enough so that it’s a surprise every time. I have a dream today that I will be with someone who I never have to ask for the things I want. Someone who will know instinctively, just by mere mention, that for Christmas I want the new Prada perfume, Prada Infusion d'Iris, that smells so good I want to lie next to myself and kiss the nape of my own neck-- except it won't be out of necessity.

I have a dream today that I will have a love that will want to step out with me in the new Marciano jumpsuit that inexplicably transforms my body into Pam Grier’s from Foxy Brown, and the new little Marciano sequin dress that’s mildly inappropriate on my body but makes me feel like a rock star. He’ll be fashion-conscious enough to know that both outfits would best go with the Gucci Dahlia High Heel Knee Boot, after I tell him.

I have a dream that one day that he will wake up next to me and think “how can I make my baby happy today?” And then know that a huge-gesture gift certificate to Origins would do just the trick.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day he will give me beautiful, brilliant babies—two boys and a girl (or the two girls and a boy the psychic/prophet predicted/prophesized in Vegas last year). But for now, he will fill the maternal void in my heart with the Christian Louboutin Platform Cage Sandal with the bold, bright pink symbolizing our future daughter’s future nursery. He will also give me a Sephora gift certificate with which I will purchase some fresh blue NARS Island Fever eyeshadow in honor of our boys.

I have a dream today girls.

I have a dream that I will find a man who shares my deep appreciation for cold weather, and wants me to be properly covered when he takes me to exotically cold locales and doesn’t balk when I pair my mother’s vintage rabbit jacket with Young, Fabulous & Broke tunic, stirrup pants and no underwear.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that I will cohabitate with a man metrosexual enough to buy me a gift certificate to Neiman Marcus and heterosexual enough to not know that I will use it to purchase every shade of red lipstick that Chantecaille manufactures.

I have a dream.

I have a dream that we will marry in Las Vegas at the Mandalay Bay and honeymoon in Asia, but long before that fateful day he will have the resourcefulness to locate last season’s dark rinse Guess Leah Jean in a 29 that I so adored and didn’t buy, and love me enough to tell me he wouldn’t still want me as 27. I have a dream that when I use the spa visit and gym membership he gives me and I actually am a 27, he will lie and tell me I’m too skinny.

I have a dream today that I will love and be loved by a man that realizes and appreciates that I have expensive taste made far, far more expensive when it’s not my money being spent.

I have a dream my friends. I have a dream that contrary to what any analyst or highly principled person will say is just and/or healthy, one man will pay for what the others have done. I have a dream that one man will fill us up with all the love we’ve given—for every gift of time, adoration, sex, and actual matter that we have given to men we no longer love or even like, we will be repaid.

This is my hope. This is the faith I go into the holiday season with.

And when this happens, when we get to the mountaintop of this against-the-current brawl with love, we will be able to join…hands (hmm)…and survey our booty (no, not that one) and say “It’s free at last! My spree at last. Thank GOD Almighty my spree at last!”

Happy Holidays!!

G. Steinem disclaimer: * *man not actually required**

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Just What Time Is It New York?

"it's hard for me to say i'm sorry/i just want you to know..."--Peter Cetera

NYT, you're making it extremely hard for any progressives to defend you.

I love the New York Times because it consistently raises important questions of national concern and hits public officials where it hurts when they need to be hit the most. I enjoyed watching them roast the Bush Administration over the past six years, and I appreciated their breaking McCain stories in the recent election. I have even enjoyed their meditative and thought-provoking criticism of high-profile Democrats . I love that the publication has brilliant, thoughtful Op/Ed columnists that are always thoughtful and never hateful. The Style section is fabulous, as well, and the publication is an all-around cosmopolitan delight of the savviest proportions.

Of course, such a publication is constantly being attacked by the people who produced Sarah Palin. And at every turn, liberals will defend the publication that celebrates progressive ideals and an intellectual discourse. But sadly, the NYT is making this increasingly more difficult to do.

It started with Jayson Blair, which was an embarrassment of epic proportions. Plagairism is the worst it can get in the publishing world. Stealing ideas, blatantly ripping intellectual property, is unconscionable. But we got through that. Then came Judith Miller, which wasn't really a mark on the paper's record, but still sheds the illusory light of shadyness nonetheless. Now, we're all of a sudden just blatantly publishing fake letters that haven't been substantiated whatsoever? What's really hood NYT? Offering the lame public statement that you just "did not" verify with no further excuse makes you no better than Sarah Palin chopping it up with Fake Sarkozy just because he called her phone.

As a final straw, Maureen Dowd has also been allowed some sort of vacation, as she hasn't printed a column in several weeks. WTF, NYT?

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One Name Is Actually Enough

"even though i might be on tv/cuz i got my own cd/all you will ever see/is the same old g..."--Ginuwine

It's actually really BIC to name your alter-ego and act like it's normal. Hats off to a fa-sho OB, Beyonce. Although we've heard talk of "Sasha" for years, her official emergence is definitely BIC fodder. The author of this article asks precisely the question I've been asking.

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Monday, December 22, 2008

Here's 25 Cents...

"it ain't none of your friends' business/ain't none of your friends' business..." --Ginuwine

No. I'm sorry, but not again. We really don't want to talk about your weight.

Oprah, please do not subject us to this again. You have been on this rollercoaster weight train since 1986. Because most women understand the struggle with body image, weight and maintaining our general health, we've been grateful over the years for your empathy and advice. We applauded when you slid your hips into those size-10 Calvins and dragged that tub of lard onto the camera after that murderous liquid protein diet. We were proud of you each time you carted yourself off to Canyon Ranch (aka Wealthy Folks Fat Camp) for a quick drop-down-and-get-fine session. We cheered when you found Bob Greene and started running marathons with your midriff exposed. We followed you through Pilates, not eating after 8 PM, and Cooking With Rosie. We're exhausted.

Here's the thing, O. Over the past 20 some-odd years that you've been on this...um, gravy train, you've amassed a fortune of over $3 billion. You owe a lot of that wealth to us, because we love you. We love your shows, your specials, your movies, the book clubs, many of the spiritual odysseys you take everyone on, the whole thing. We love that you have a great heart and do great things. We have followed you for over two decades not because we thought you were fine, but because we loved you for who you are and what you brought to our lives. We do expect you to be healthy, because you're worth $3 billion, and, well, it wouldn't make much sense if you weren't. But we're all aware that you're no supermodel and no one expects you to be.

Here's the other thing, O. We're not blind. You didn't have to do the whole comparison photo display and announcement of exactly how many pounds you're currently packing--it's pretty clear that you haven't missed many meals since the last time you hopped onto your magazine cover in exercise clothes. We were more than okay with that. Evidenced by the millions of folks still buying your magazine. Evidenced by the millions of people who turned out in all-weather conditions to see you campaign in the presidential election in the past year, by the millions who tune into your show every single day.

What made you do this, again? Not gain the weight, but publicize it. You can't possibly think that the world is all that interested in your weight loss escapades and travails at this juncture. Sure, plenty of people will watch, but not because we want to talk about how much fat you're carting around; it's because we enjoy watching you. I don't think you need to try another diet, Oprah. You're a brilliant woman who knows how to maintain a healthy weight. There's not too much new weight-loss knowledge that you could stand to gain, and even more importantly, impart. You've seen it all. And we've seen it all.

You haven't spent the past year eating every meal in front of the camera. You gained that weight in private. Do us all a favor and lose it in private, as well. We really don't have to talk about it, this time.

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Daily DIC: Mr. President, Please Put Your Shirt On

"i can stare/i can memorize your face/your hands/your hair/every part of you..."--Amel Larrieux

Barack, please put your shirt on and only take pictures with Michelle. We all need you to do that. The swag is just a little too much...I can't take it.

Meanwhile, I feel like I went on vacation with my best friend's family and her suddenly super hot dad. The Obama family has rented a beautiful home in Hawaii for their Christmas vacation. I'm sure they're enjoying Christmas as well as some well-deserved rest before heading to the White House officially. Lo pasan bien!

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It's Getting Hot In Here

"lemme fix my hair up 'fore i go inside..."--Beyonce

Being the First Lady certainly has its benefits. With our sordid history of salons that overbook, never have appointments, or just generally make you wait, there are legions of Black women that wish stylists were falling all over themselves just to do their hair.

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Big O BIC Attack

"you better tell her..."--Teedra Moses

Hopefully, this is just petty gossip, but the moment I find there's any truth to it it will definitely be a Daily BIC. Oprah, we love you and we thank you for the one million votes you delivered in this election. We thank you just for being you. But please explain why in the world you would need a home in DC now that the Obamas are moving into the White House? I'm so curious. Furthermore, what does Stedman say about you following Barack & Co. to Chocolate City? Not that it matters, since it's clear Oprah does what the hell Oprah wants to do. But honestly O, unless you and Michelle have become best friends or you're getting some official role in the Obama Administration (unlikely), it's really kind of not that cool.

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Daily DIC: A Change Gonna Come

"this is the life of a /go getta..."--Young Jeezy

Now that President-Elect Obama has won, I guess every unlikely candidate for the highest office in the land feels comfortable coming out the woodworks with their ambitions. Latest perpetrator: The Governator, who would like the Constitution amended for him. Which begs the question: should we really alter our fundamental national laws for The Terminator?

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Sunday, December 21, 2008

Daily BIC: Sore Loser

"mary wants to be another movie star/but is that really in her mind/and all the things she wants to be/she needs to leave behind..."--Stevie Wonder

I think it speaks volumes that in the six weeks since losing the vice-presidential campaign the issues that have kept the Eskimo state relevant have been vast US Senate corruption, the impending birth of the governor's unborn redneck grandchild, and a drug bust of the gubernatorial in-law. Now, it's been discovered that state government (giving SP the benefit of the doubt, she wasn't aware) employees have been forwarding racist e-mails about President-Elect Obama. Real classy, Alaska. Real classy.

Update: By way of icing on the proverbial cake, check out Team Sarah.

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Friday, December 19, 2008

Daily BIC: Ring The Alarm

"and i've tried and tried/to say what's on my mind/you should have known..."--Beyonce

Well, one of our favorite BIC's seems to have finally found a movie role that fits her like a glove. I'm impressed. This actually looks like a great movie to catch after one too many margaritas. Jackpot, B!

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Ignorance As Currency

"i got love for the game/but ay i'm not in love with all of it/could do without the fame/the rappers nowadays are comedy..."--T.I.

In 2009, let's do something about the ridiculousness in hip-hop, which, I pray, seems to be coming to an ugly head. We should pop it, already.

The "But I Have Dark Friends" School of Hip-Hop Artists

From Ne-Yo's recent comment about the cutest children being fair-skinned to Yung Berg's ludicrous statements about "dark butts", we've had our fill of the Willie Lynch Era in hip-hop. We should ignore these niggers until they learn to watch what they say and acknowledge the implications of their chatter.

The "Teachers Passed Me Because They Hated Me" School of Hip-Hop Artists

First of all, let's all focus on the unfortunately infectious, yet undeniably retarded refrain: "supaman dat ho" or "superman that ho", a phrase that denotes an act I'd rather not, but somehow feel compelled to discuss. This is a 17 year-old kid with the mind of a worm and a moderate amount of pop success earned by crafting a catchy song about busting on a blanket and throwing it on the naked back of a "ho". No, I'm not kidding; but I wish I was. When he sent the disgusting and blatantly ignorant "shoutout" to the slave masters who brought Africans to America, without whom [Black Americans] wouldn't be here to "get this ice and tattoos", we should have just ignored him and acted like he never existed. Instead, it became the election 2008 of the black blogosphere. And even though he later said he was being "funny" and "sarcastic", why are we even paying attention to this idiot? When the public has become so dumb that we debate the comments of someone whose entire first single was completely incoherent, things have gotten pretty bad.

The "Supahead" School of Hip-Hop Artists

After the first book, when it was revealed that just about anybody with clout in the hip-hop culture had smashed, I was sure they'd learned their lesson. Lo and behold, there came a second book--with new information. R. Kelly really said it best: "niggas will do anything/for some pussy". I still had hope in our brothers, though; I had hope that common sense would prevail. And just when I assumed there would be no one who would dare risk his health or reputation by sidling up to this woman, she pops up pregnant. By, she claims, Bow Wow. Wow. Bow, in his defense, took to Youtube with a now-unviewable freestyle in which he rhymes "i hear these rumors about Supahead/boy y'all funny/i wrapped it up like a Christmas gift/i ain't no dummy". No, I'm not kidding. But I wish I was. Fellas, c'mon...you've been around long enough to know that whomever is joined with a prostitute becomes one body with her! For real, let's first be a little more discerning and otherwise have a little more discretion. As my grandmother always said, "if you can't be good, be careful!"

I'm not even going to go into all of the artists that went to jail this year for weed, guns and paparazzi assault. That's too exhausting. I know it's hard because we grow to like their music, but we have to help these people help themselves and stop supporting them when they're ridiculous. That would include R. "Golden Shower" Kelly, whose newest album contains such hits as "Might Be Mine" and "Come At The Same Time".

No...but I wish I was.

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Girls Just Want To Have Funds

"what means the world to me/my money/my dough/my hair/my nails..."--Trina

This recession is really hurting everyone. Not only are people having to give up their prostitutes, women are having to curb their plastic surgery splurges! I don't think it could get any worse. Bread lines be damned--if you can't afford a little Botox, what's left to live for? Well, fortunately, us 'multi-culti' BIC's don't have as many surgical requirements; although we shouldn't kid ourselves. I think everyone's well-aware that we will always spend our last on our hair.

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Make His "A" Wait: Here, the "B" Comes Before The "A"

"if i can be sure/inside out that you know exactly the man that comes to see you/i'll go deep as i can/giving you the rest of my love..."--Usher

When I was in college, I made some very questionable decisions about sex. I wanted to be what I thought a woman of the new millennium looked like: a sexually liberated girl who made hedonistic, Sex and the City-inspired decisions about her body and who she let in it. I wanted to be someone who was okay with casual sex. It became obvious rather quickly that I was actually not okay with casual sex at all, and not long after my declaration of independence, I found myself monogamously devoted to a very polygamous young man who was my bliss about 27% of the time, my hell 66% of the time and some sick purgatory for the rest of it.

Now, let's be honest. Before going out on my own, I'd had plenty of education on the importance of being prudent with passing out 'the love'. I was raised in the church and constantly admonished by my family to "be good". Plus, I knew instinctively that men don't want anything that comes too easily. But honestly, no one prepared me for those moments alone when he's kissing on your neck and slowly lowering your bra strap in that soft, tender way that grazes your skin, tickling your shoulder. No one prepared me for soft music and dim lighting and candles. No one ever mentioned that he might kiss me in a way that would literally make my spine buckle so that falling on my back was the only way I could feel like I wasn't having a seizure. No one told me how natural it feels to spread your legs and wrap them around him when his weight on top of you feels so good...and how quickly it can all turn into something you might regret. No one told me that it was so easy to be easy. Figures.

When I emerged , scathed but delivered (Hallelujah!), from the aforementioned case of ill-placed adoration and naive self-negligence, I felt free for the first time in years and more in control of my womanhood and my choices. I floated for awhile, feeling like I'd managed to rip a metal leash from around my neck. I spent almost a year just catching my breath--no sex was allowed (or even desired, most of the time), and certainly no love. But when the dust settled and I was feeling normal again, I decided to make August 2006 the start of my "Year of Yes", a twelve-month period in which I would literally say "yes" to dating [nearly] everyone who asked me in an effort to be open and available. Now, I hate dating with a passion. I hate the pleasantries and the minutiae and pretending like you care about things you don't. I so rarely like anyone that dating is especially excruciating for me. So the "Year of Yes" (YOY) was a big deal; it was about learning not to sneer at men who asked for my phone number or ignore guys who tried to approach me in a nice way or brush someone off after the first time we talked on the phone because of some inconsequential perceived flaw. It was about continuing a search for something real, something to hold on to, which was my deepest--though most thoroughly ignored--desire. This effort opened the door to Creepy Obsessed Guy, Mean Rich Guy, Too Metrosexual Guy, Extra Pressed To Hit It Guy, Super Boring Guy, So "Deep" Even He Can't Understand What The Hell He's Saying Guy, and finally, Allergic To Chivalry Guy. (Funny backstory: On our one and only date, Allergic To Chivalry Guy had two drinks without me when I was fifteen minutes late, watched me pump my own gas when I insisted on following him to another venue rather than riding with him, and then tried to kiss me after dropping something and asking me to pick it up for him…and yet a week later announced that he was befuddled by the fact that I wasn't interested in dating him further). YOY opened the door for a lot of "oh hell no's", but it also opened the door to someone new I really liked for the first time in years--let's call him Damn This Feels Good Guy--which opened the door to me being…for lack of a better word, open. Which opened the door for slowly becoming overly…available. Aside from a mid-YOY transgression on a particularly weak night in May when I almost broke my no-sex rule with said gentleman (and let's be honest, kind of did), almost exactly a year to that August 2006 declaration of the start of YOY, I said "yes" for real--screamed it, actually. Many times.

My fault.

I broke my rule not because he had earned it, not because we had reached that point in our relationship when it was right, but because I physically needed to get laid and wanted it to be him. I did it because it felt right viscerally, not pragmatically, which, in the largest scheme of things is the worst reason to have sex. It was great; he was great. But as a stubborn woman that sticks to her guns on everything else, folding like a retail t-shirt over "the d" snowballed into feelings that were a little too strong for where our relationship really stood.

But we look forward, not ahead. And it is at this point in my life that I'm completely dedicated to my new resolve: The Make His 'A' Wait Initiative. And I want you all to join me.

It's true that we as women suffer the most from fatal sexually-transmitted diseases, but we also suffer the most from emotional scars. Men are constantly testing our waters. They test to see how far they can get and if we let them go all the way too early, there's nothing left for them to learn, no reason to stick around. Then they're gone and we're a wreck. Now, I'm not saying that one-night stands can't result in fifty-year marriages. Of course there are exceptions to every rule. But being honest with ourselves and not dealing in myths and legends, most of the women who drop it too early find themselves alone and feeling used and guilty with low self-esteem and a persistent feeling of bewilderment. Is that really what we want for ourselves? Don't you deserve better? Of course you do. So Make His 'A' Wait. I know it sounds like the biggest cliché in the world, but after years of scoffing at the advice of "old folks" I have learned that it is actually true: if he doesn't hang around when you tell his ass to wait, then he's not worth your time. No real man who is truly interested in you and is the right kind of person is going to forego getting to know you if you tell him sex is not an upfront option. Period.

One of my best male friends told me something very interesting the other day. When a man meets you and sees you, he looks at you hard. He sizes you up. And he's already had sex with you in his mind. He's already stripped you down and imagined what it would be like and he's already mentally climaxed. Why ruin his fantasy with reality and take away his opportunity to see who you really are, what you're interested in, what really makes you sexy, how you fit into his life and how he might fit into yours? Why ruin the potential by doing an immediate comparison of what he's already envisioned? Once you get to the real thing, his senses should be so overwhelmed with you as a person that the sex is 1000% better than he ever imagined. They want us to make them wait. If you give it up too fast, it's just exactly what he imagined it to be, and the mystery is over.

A couple years ago, a good friend of mine went on a date with a gorgeous man who was really into her. She's been practicing celibacy since Jesus was an embryo, so she's confident in her decision not to let guys infiltrate her system, which affords her an opportunity to really get to know them before she's all in their grill. Now, this man she went on the date with was so fine I'd personally go into the witness protection program with him, the kind of fine for which you already know women are breaking it off like French bread left and right. But not my friend. And it's a good thing, because even though she, too, was mesmerized by his beauty, she pried long and hard enough on a date with him that he got loose with the talk and revealed his real character. This fool actually said that he wasn't ever going to cater to a woman in any way, not even his wife, because "he's not that type of dude". Women, instead, needed to cater to him. My friend was horrified that this gorgeous, southern, seemingly courteous gentleman was speaking these words. "Well, what about when she's pregnant?" she asked. "You wouldn't get up to get her ginger ale and crackers in the middle of the night if she got sick?" "I mean…" he shrugged, "she knew she was pregnant when she laid down."

Ladies, this is the kind of man that won't wait for you to feel right about giving it up. And this is precisely the kind of person you will find yourself with if you don't give these men a chance to show their real selves and see the real you.

It's time for us to take responsibility for our part in the way these men act and reclaim our role as the tone-setters and timekeepers in romantic relationships.

So join me and make a pact to yourself today. Choose 3, 6, 9, 12, 18 months--it's up to you. But make it a little bit of a stretch for you and make it a promise to yourself. He doesn't need to know the length of time you've chosen to wait, he just needs to know that sex is not an option with you, and he knows not the day nor the hour when it will be. All he needs to know is that he needs to act right and enjoy your time, your energy, your passion. You are the Olympics and he is the star athlete. If he's not prepared, he'll go home without a damn thing. But if he knows how to apply himself and train the right way, then maybe, just maybe, he has a shot at winning the gold.

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Daily OMG: Just Can't Leave You Alone

"i can't help it/if i wanted to/i wouldn't help it/even if i could..."--Michael Jackson

I wish I thought this was beautiful. But the words that come to mind first are: hedonistic, selfish, unsanitary, and exhausting.

Reflexively, of course. I know I shouldn't judge...but 18? Yesterday, Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar had their 18th child. Yes, yesterday, as in 2008, as in the 21st century. I totally understand how you're feeling. I, too, cannot fathom why two people would or could continue to have sex under these circumstances. 135 months of pregnancy? My husband and I would sleep in separate states. I would just love to take a poll of their children to see how many of them, on average, plan to procreate. I would also like to know how many dislike the letter "J".

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Thursday, December 18, 2008

Wow, It's Really Not Abortion

"why you wanna go and do that love, huh..."--T.I.

Dilemma: A pharmacist is at the counter when a young woman comes in requesting Plan B emergency contraception, aka "the morning after pill". Said pharmacist is a deeply religious Catholic who doesn't believe in the use of said pill. Is this really what goes for a conundrum these days? First of all, I really don't understand who in their right mind considers a pregnancy that never occurs to be an abortion. To each his own. Seriously, though, if punching $35.00 into a cash register and putting a box into a brown paper bag is that big of a deal to you, then don't ring it up.

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Daily DIC: Two For The Price Of One

"am i high..."--N.E.R.D.

Well, the inevitable has finally occured. With two terms that have resulted in an increasingly failing and unpopular war, a ruined economy, loss of morale and (gasp!) a [Black] Democrat in office, George W. and Big Dick have decided to just let it all hang out. One gets the sense that in George's case, it's more to save his legacy and to offer a sincere mea culpa. In Dick's case, however, he appears to be gloating.

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Daily BIC: Fried Chicken Photo Op

"we bout to do somethin you never done before..."--Jamie Foxx

Caroline Kennedy found time in her busy legacy-assuming schedule to stop and have chicken and greens in Harlem with Al Sharpton. I wonder if the fact that she can't make sincere eye contact with the press corps has to do with shame over the Soul Food pandering or the fact that Al looks dangerously like her pimp?

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Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Daily DIC: With Friends Like These

"i can't protect jay no more..."--Dame Dash

Which begs the question...when were you last "protecting" Jay-Z?

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Girls Just Want To Have Interracial Fun

"no matter what the people say/i'm gonna love you anyway/you are my life/i can't let go..."--Anthony Hamilton

I was amused to see the super cheesy banner on the Web last night of InterracialRomance.com. The sight of the bright, cheerleader-esque White woman and overly jovial Black man so happy to have found one another tickled me for the simplicity of it's message, obviously making an effort to appeal to the basest of our instincts. In the midst of my laughter, I clicked on the link and became horrified. Maybe it's my general bias against internet dating in general (which certainly leaves me in the minority in 2008, I'm well aware) but the way interracial relationships are presented by this site is slightly disturbing. It seems as though the genius that dreamed this up is all for stereotypes ("yeah, rip Jamal's shirt open! Yeah, yeah, Jenny, you got it...touch his chest, smile harder! Flip your hair! Look fragile!") and general exploitation of the concept of dating someone outside of your race. As someone who has dated interracially in the past and probably will again, I was deeply offended.

So, in typical BIC fashion, I had to know more. Once I'm angry, I like to flesh out my anger and roll around in it for awhile. So, of course I registered. After being led through three screens of information to fill out, I was presented with my own personal options for "interracial" dating--six rather seedy-looking Black men "in my area"; a young White guy with a skinhead-esque baldie, a vaguely queer camera smirk, and the screename "white tiger"; and a very confused Indian man who looks like he's not quite sure why he's doing this, either.

Although there is an obligatory stock photo on the homepage of a Black woman without her hair done joyfully hugging a so fresh and so clean White man who seems only vaguely interested in her, I don't see how this site is a true embrace of interracial romance. What this tells me is that this is a) a ridiculous notion, and b) a site that basically caters to the ultimate American ideal of "Jungle Fever"--a White woman and a Black man. Nevermind the hordes of Black, Latino and Asian women who might be interested in dating men of another race or culture; they either don't exist or they're cheap, frigid and uninteresting. And certainly nevermind the men who might be interested in dating them; no, no, we'll make our money by appealing to White women who lust after the elusive Big Black Buck and those bucks who want to use them for sex.

Hey, don't mind me...maybe this site is the Truth. Maybe I'm just cynical and judgmental. And if you're a cheerful White woman who likes skulking Black men with screenames like "aintnoother" then, by all means, go ahead. Conversely, if you're a Black sex addict with 12-inch biceps and a penchant for bottle blondes who giggle when nothing is funny, knock yourself out. But if you're a Southeast Asian man from Southern California, you might just be S.O.L.

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Daily BIC: Too Much Of A Good Thing

"she gets carrie fever..."--Jay-Z

You know what they say: things can always get worse. And I thought it was hideous to see all the Midwestern soccer moms dressing up in "Carriewear" and heading to NYC in droves when the Sex and the City move opened last May. Well, things can get worse and they have. I would like to understand the psyche behind the woman who takes a SATC bus tour around Manhattan. A.A. Gill is curious, too.

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Tuesday, December 16, 2008

It's A New Day?

"because it's love/because it's all the way love/because it's really love..."--Luther Vandross

"Why does Essence keep showing this type of relationship as if it's suppose to be normal for women of color to have children and not be married. First you put that dispicable, disgrace of a father P Diddy and his "" because that's all she is to him Kim and use them as an example of "Black Love". I know that there are some blacks who still get married. Please Essence stop representing this as "Black Love". "Black Love" is when the man respects the woman enough to make her his wife, "Black Love" is when the woman respects herself enough to stop giving your bodies to these men and make them work for it. Make them put that ring on your finger and MARRY YOU!!!"

Perusing through some of the comments on the beautiful pictorial and accompanying article on LaLa Vasquez and Carmelo Anthony's family life with their son, Kiyan, on Essence's wesbite, I wasn't surprised to see some of the responses to the story. Considering the ridiculously gigantic bruhaha amongst Essence readership over the then-as well as-now unwed Diddy and a very pregnant Kim Porter gracing the cover of the December 2006 issue as they prepared for their second and third child together, it wasn't a shock to see snarky comments about LaLa and Melo's family situation like "What example are they setting for their son by shacking up? Do the honorable thing and get married, stop playing house!", and "Black women are settling and its a shame. I'm tired of this baby mama culture that is destroying our race. Who cares if they have money? That is not the way you raise a child" and the golden nugget, "I am so sick of Black women reducing theirselves to just "Baby Mommas", you can have a child with the woman, play house, and but she is not good enough to have your last name. Black women wake up!!! Stop being a breeder for black men. That's all they see us as BREEDERS! Trust me if she was white oh you better believe Carmelo would have been married her. We are we going to learn!!" Before I launch in, I will state clearly that I do not now, nor have I ever condoned the use of "theirselves" as a word. But there's more to discuss.

There are a few things to consider here when tossing around the relevance of these arguments against featuring unmarried couples as examples, one being the source. Once upon a time, when print media was relevant and well-to-do black media companies managed not to blow their entire budgets on lavish parties, we had the now-defunct Honey Magazine, Suede Magazine, and Vibe Vixen. This is important primarily because one might argue that Essense, while often entertaining and undoubtedly the queen of the cover story, caters to your auntie. And not necessarily your dad's sister, either, but often grandfather's younger sibling whom, even while remaining fly, entertaining and quick-witted, still can't quite pronounce Beyonce's name correctly and isn't quite sure which rapper she married. And while Essence has made every effort over the past decade to stay relevant by getting young, intriguing stars on their cover, it's clear that the young, chic, savvy urbanites that regularly purchase (or subscribe to) to Vogue, Glamour, Marie Claire, and Vibe and that flocked to stores for every issue of Honey and Suede, still regularly look past Essence on the newstand. The same reason you take some of that old auntie's advice and leave the rest is the reason many Gen X & Y'ers don't fool with Essence. It can feel like a lecture, rather than a celebration, rather, most importantly, than a discussion. And it's the Essence readership that spends time online bemoaning the fact that Black pro-athletes and entertainers are treating women that live in their homes and wear their engagement rings as 'breeders', that makes us all give the publication the collective side-eye.

True, Black men and women do need to get more serious about commitment and more careful about all of the out-of-wedlock children that our community indulges in, because yes, the burden of raising those children does ultimately fall on Black women. I am a member of a church whose pastor's #1 priority in teaching about relationships is male accountability, and I do think it's important. Our churches and schools need to be driving home family responsiblity to our men more, and I do think that the "new day" in which we're currently living, with Barack and Michelle Obama as a national template for a healthy relationship, will go far. However, the entire burden can't fall on the Obamas. Commitment is important, and I'm not dismissing its significance, because it's largely the instant gratification our culture craves that creates all the problems later--disproportionately so for Black women who end up raising children alone, struggling to find someone to help and too often raising young men who go to jail rather than college and young women who trade possible lives as professionals for motherhood that comes too soon. I'm not downplaying that, nor am I dismissing the covenant of marriage in the church as unimportant. With that said, I'd be remiss to not point out that there are plenty of couples who have children before marriage and end up having perfectly healthy marriages later. For every Diddy (who while being an undeniably great father who takes care of his children, has consistently blown the chance to make an honest woman out of someone who truly loves him), there's a Melo, who clearly treats LaLa with respect and love as both his woman/fiancee and the mother of his child. I don't think it's fair to sweep that under the rug and lump them in with the men who create "breeders". I mean, isn't that almost entirely the message of the movie Baby Boy?

I think that LaLa and Melo will get married when the time is right for them, and no one knows their story better than they do. The same goes for all the couples outside of the limelight in the same position--marriage is not to be taken lightly, and if more people looked at it that way, we'd have less divorce. Instead of trying to guilt and shame someone into marriage, we should be respectfully observing their current commitment, whatever it may be. Kiyan Anthony, for example, is too young to know whether or not his parents are married, but it seems as though he lives in an affectionate home in which his father respects and loves his mother, which is not too shabby considering the alternative.

Futhermore, let us not ignore the fact that the majority of the women who feel strongly enough about this to sit and post comments on the internet in response to a perfectly lovely article are typically unmarried or bitter from the consequences of their own poor choices. I'd be remiss if I said that all the comments were in the same vein, however. There were a few rational standouts, which included "Get married, because it is the right example to show to your son and the future of couples of color. There are too many people "co-habitating". You are a queen, not a princess. Queens are married. Don't be antoher "lady~in~waiting". Most importantly, it will be pleasing in the sight of God. Honor God and the sacredness of marriage. Keep things in the right perspective. You will reap a bountiful harvest when you do what God has ordained. Be blessed." I feel this woman. This is what I was taught growing up and what is extoled to me today in my place of worship and amongst my older relatives and mentors.

Things aren't cut and dry like they used to be, our generation says. God is the same today as he was yesterday, they say. True. But specific to LaLa and Melo, the "damage" is done. At this point, isn't the best thing to do is to wish them the best, pray for their continued happiness, and conduct our own business? Hatefully banging out dismissive comments about a man's level of respect for a woman when you know neither of them is neither relevant nor productive. I have all the love and respect in the world for the God-ordained institution of marriage, but I don't think anyone who isn't ready should even bother discussing it. I also don't know that I have a huge problem with people testing the waters by co-habitating, provided it's couched in a real commitment.

This is my thinking, but what are your thoughts? There's a lot to consider here. Are more young women today settling for "breeder" and "babymama" status instead of demanding marriage?

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Daily DIC: Hef's Spawn

"she's fine too/but i want you..."--Lloyd

Wonder which one of these kids is daddy's boy?

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Must Be The Money

"i'll love you when your hair turns grey girl/i'll still want you if you gain a little weight, yeah..."--Musiq

It makes me feel old that Mrs. Huxtable is now hawking weight-loss programs. But I put money on it that we won't be subjected to watching her 'twirl and a-swirl' across Oprah's stage in a two-piece...

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The Daily OMG: Better Days

"so don't be ashamed to be sexy..."--One Chance

Good news: if you're under 35 and thought your best days were behind you; you're dead wrong. Merry Christmas!

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Daily BIC: I Could Kill Him

"you should think twice/about the way you been talkin to me..."--Destiny's Child

Although only the most extreme examples of BIC involve actual bodily harm, it's far from unheard of. And I personally know some women I hope never get their buttons pushed. In any case, whatever level of BIC you embody, I wish for all of you a husband who, after you've split his head open, still calls to report you missing

.

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All-American Girls

"she's the center of his whole world/and his heart belongs to that sweet little/beautiful/wonderful/perfect all-american girl..."--Carrie Underwood

Since the last time I posted here, something amazing happened in the lives of women of color. Our new First Lady and the two First Daughters were debuted, and I think we're all aware that the 2008 edition is now available in three lovely new shades of brown. I just love thinking about how awesome and monumental this is for young women everywhere to see these girls grow up so well-adjusted, smart, personable and beautiful--raised by their equally brilliant and dynamic mother--and what that will do for the collective self-esteem of not only Black women, but all women of color. This makes real for the American public the effective, but fictional, "Cosby" template in which my friends and I grew up and identify and we're so excited to see our realities reflected in this American family. God bless the Obamas and those sweet little, beautiful, wonderful, perfect All-American girls!!

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Daily BIC: Crazier Than Before

"i thought it was over/but here you come back again..."--Musiq

Just like the guy you haven't heard from since Labor Day who calls to see how your Thanksgiving was. Like the ten pounds you bootcamped off for the Summer that have been fighting for a comeback since the weather turned. Like the natural hair you thought you pressed into submission: I'm back!! It feels good to be back in the spot, y'all. Honestly, there have been so many times in the past six months where I've had something to say, but the instances were so isolated that I didn't bother logging on. Suffice it to say that my homegirls are glad their "special" friend has her outlet again.

So, take a look around...I've done a little redecorating (and we have Russell of Pencilbully.com to thank!). I think the new-new looks great and totally illustrates the M.O. of this site: to have a place on the internet where young, fly, women can go and totally celebrate their savvy, their sexy, and yes, of course, their crazy! Looking forward to winning back my core audience and bringing on some new folks. Always feel free to comment on the good, the bad, and the ugly. What's any website without snarky comments to read?

As always, thanks for ridin'. Besos!!

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