Saturday, January 31, 2009

A Vision In White

"she's just doin her thing..."--Willie Hutch

 Y'all know that I do not like to talk about God's folks, but some people bring these things on themselves. And this deserves a BIC spotlight if ever there's been a BIC spotlight. I think most know the sordid story of Juanity Bynum's marital woes, from her unsuccessful first marriage to her highly public second marriage to a Bible-thumping opportunist (which culminated in her strangulation and public assault, her leaked begging for them to work it out despite said assault, and now his upcoming reality television show searching for a new woman--think Flava of Love meets Sunday Best). After the tumultuous year Juanita's had, no one could begrudge her a birthday party. But I don't think anyone, not one of the attendees and the public, were prepared for what she cooked up to celebrate herself.

The upscale venue was auspicious enough, but that's to be expected from a woman who spent $1.2 million on her second wedding.

After getting her weave Diana Ross-ed out by her on-site stylist, Juanita stepped out to greet her guests in the name of the Lord. Only there was one major problem. Juanita's Three Faces of Eve behind was wearing her wedding dress--her second, over-bedazzled, notably hideous, wedding dress.

Among the activities following her entrance--a testimony and praise and worship, which apparently [and inexplicably] included a sword.

Guests were treated to a lengthy testimony and an eight-tier cake, complete with pictures of Juanita on it.

For her finale, Juanita changed into a "sexy" black Betsey Johnson meets J.Renee-esque number that might have gotten a semi-pass if it weren't for the tacky pictures of she and her parents on the fabric. What's also worth mentioning is the large "I Love You Baby" embroidered above her own portrait in the front center of the gown.

All of this was relayed rather seriously by Essence Magazine, whose staff I'm convinced was reporting this satirically. Although Black publications often lack a sense of humor appropriate for the community they serve , I refuse to believe that there's a Manhattan office full of Black women cosigning on Juanita's tomfoolery as though she's not absolutely bat-ish crazy.

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Friday, January 30, 2009

BIC Report

"and the girls go crazy..."--R. Kelly

To Her New Role As "Second Lady" (*Shrug*), Jill Biden Says "You Don't Own Me" [HuffPost]

Starbuck's Is Probably Opening The Gates To Hell [Bloomberg]

Charli Baltimore Still Wants To Be Added To The List Of Them Chicks That BIG Done Been In [YBF]

Tired Of Being The Least Favorite Daughter, Kelly Moves To Europe And Tells Her Manager Bye-Bye [MTV]

Out-Of-Options Black Women With Low-Self Esteem Rush To Barnes & Noble In Droves To Buy Relationship Advice From Steve Harvey [Bossip]

Because A Large Part Of Being Taken Seriously By The Republican Minority Revolves Around Reminding Them That She's Post-Menopausal, Nancy Pelosi Teams With President Obama To Throw Everyone Who Still Ovulates Under The Bus [FoxNews]

Desperate To Please Her Old Pal Sarah P, Elizabeth Hasselbeck Employs Abstinence Education Instead Of Contraception [Jezebel]

Biggie Had To Learn How To Wave The Four-Four From Someone [MTV]

All Danity Kane Fans Gather In Studio Apartment On Upper East Side For Vigil [MTV]

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DIC Report

"n****s is crazy baby/don't forget that boy told ya..."--Jay-Z

With Their Son Back Home,  George H.W. Bush Is Relieved To Rejoin His Wife In Bigotry [Wonkette]

Pretending Making The Band Drama Is Important To Anyone With An IQ Over 90 Is Fun [MTV]

LL Cool J Flexes His Intellectual Muscle While Stating The Obvious [Bossip]

Between Rihanna and now Christina Milian, The-Dream Is Quickly Becoming "That Guy" [Who Coyly Denies Non-Existent Love Affairs In A Purposely Misleading Tone] [MTV]

President Obama Prompts First Lady To Question Who He Is Trying To Be Sexy For By Not Wearing A Coat in 20-Degree Weather [HuffPost]

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They've Gotten A Room...

"i don't want nobody/always/sittin around/me and my man/i don't want nobody/always/sittin right there/lookin at me and that man..."--Aretha Franklin

Okay, I love to see it too. The Obamas turn me like everyone else. Not in a sexual, wanna-come-with? kind of way, but in an admiring wow-you-guys-are-really-still-in-love-after-16-years kind of way. I love their PDA, I love their language about each other, I love their body language. But someone, somewhere has to draw the line.

Barack and Michelle are no longer just Barack and Michelle. They're President and First Lady Obama. They don't live in their South Side colonial; they live in The White House. It's cool to make mention of the fact that the First Couple is still actively affectionate every now and then--it's such an anomaly that it's hard not to mention and even harder to ignore. But I think it's time that we start giving their incredibly sacred and beautiful partnership the respect its position deserves. During the election, it was great to see the ladies on The View wax rhapsodic about the Obamas' love and even funnier to see Wanda Sykes' ear pulling and booty slappin' routine on Leno about Barack and Michelle's lamp-breaking sexscapades. And frankly, I'm sure it goes down just like Mike Alvear thinks it does. But it's probably better for us all if we stop picturing Barack and Michelle wheelbarrowing around their White House bedroom. They have other things to do. I'm 100% certain that they make time to make love--it's rather obvious--but they do have two very high-profile, important jobs and as their record proved they would, they're already doing them quite well. They're also very involved parents. I'm pretty sure Michelle's not spending her days red-tabbing pages of the Karma Sutra to try at night. Not saying Barack's not slippin in as often as he can, but he's been pretty busy and I'm sure that getting four hours a sleep a night doesn't make anyone feel like a porn star.
I know, I know. In my lifetime, we've had a President who adored his wife but was too old and too long before Viagra to lay the pipe, a President who couldn't possibly have been having sex with his wife if there's anything sacred in this world, a President who was having sex with everyone but his wife, and most recently a President who probably had sex with his wife on birthdays and major holidays. So yes, I am beyond glad that we have a First Couple that's a model of true, devoted, committed love, respect, and passion. But it's slightly embarrassing that, as a nation, our media is so taken with the sensual life of the leader of the Free World. I'm sure that Michelle, as a true lady, is quickly tiring of everyone discussing what's going on in her bedroom. Yes, they're a sexy couple. Yes, they kiss a lot. They hold hands. They touch foreheads and generally act like the other one is going to get it when they get alone. Yes, America, our President and his wife put it down like they mean it, okay? Okay. So maybe we can get the press out of those people's underpants already.

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Thursday, January 29, 2009

Aint None Of Your Friends Business

"the rumors was/so numerous/for stickin by me i had to give ya two thumbs up..."--Kanye West

So Ted Haggard (gay evangelical minister caught trolling for young men AND crystal meth) and his apparently long-suffering wife Gayle went onto Oprah--which is, coincidentally, the new mecca for men of God with sexual demons. I'm not even going to address the complexity in the mind of the BIC that marries an evangelical minister that straight up tells you that he struggles with homosexuality. It's too deep for me and I really have no right to speak on it. Thus, I'm far more interested in the third party BIC in this situation. In part four of the video in the link, when Oprah asks Gayle the burning question "Why did you stay?" she smiles sweetly and responds, "You know, that is the question I'm asked in the grocery store almost daily; why did you stay? We want to hear".

The grocery store? I could see asking in church. I could even somehow envision asking even after a particularly sweaty exercise class.  Asking such a thing might not be so bad at the playground on the mothers' bench. But the grocery store? Someone walks up to you in the feminine products aisle and just strikes up a conversation about the 'mo sleeping in your bed?That's actually not okay. Especially because you already know who's asking: the Gladys Kravitzes and Miss "You Ain't Heard That From Me" Benitas of the world, who figure that they can take home and stir up some scintillating gossip with their Ground Round. Gayle obviously does not share these sentiments because number one she's on Oprah, and number two she says this matter-of-factly, as though it is normal for strangers to approach a woman in public and essentially ask why she continues to live with a man who is probably mentally picturing Brad Pitt when he hits it from behind.

Well, I'll just put everyone on notice that regardless of my personal circumstance, chicks in the grocery store would get a whole other taste of my BIC if they ever approached me with some intrusive foolishness like that. If you have a highly personal question, please email me. Write me a letter. Do not ever walk up to me in produce and inquire about the most personal and frankly, humiliating aspects of my life and my marriage, especially when you've never met my husband and don't know me. I'm just saying. There's a right way and wrong way to do things, and some people pathologically blur the line. Of course, we have a name for those girls around these parts.

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It's a Celebration BICs

"i'll be more than a woman/more than enough for you..."--Aaliyah

Because we don't just trot crazy out and show it around, we celebrate what a fair [good] amount of it can breed.

Oprah has just named a woman--a Black woman, to be sure--CEO of her new media venture, Oprah Winfrey Network (OWN). Former MTV President Christina Norman says this is "the job I've been working towards my whole career." Well, cheers to you Ms. Norman and congratulations on using your BIC for good!

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Throwback BIC: Make It Hot

"what must i do/to keep him lovin me..."--Nicole Wray

Unlike some people, Missy and Timbaland's track record for successfully breaking artists whose longevity pales in comparison to theirs is not only unintentional, but completely without malice. Miss Jade? Mad Skillz? Magoo? I hear crickets. In any case, with Jazmine Sullivan's recent Grammy nomination explosion, I got to thinking about another lost Missy/Tim artist, Nicole Wray, whom I think just about everyone saw a bright future for in the industry. Well, suffice it to say she's not currently Top 40. But she definitely was when she released this banger that still stands up over ten years later. And, just for the record, from the begging hook to the self-capitulating verses, it drips of the good stuff.

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Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Got To Give It Up

"it's time that i realize/that there are some with no home/without a nickel to loan..."--Michael Jackson

While in San Francisco visiting my friend, I was admonished not to observe my typical practice of giving money to the homeless. Why? It was against the law. "San Francisco coddles its homeless," I was informed by my BFF, who ordered me to roll up the window and put the ones away or risk a fine. Then, I happen upon this--a relatively inconspicuous, hidden article on Slate that speaks volumes. My thought: have we gotten so cold and callous as a society that we really turn our ipods up to avoid hearing someone ask for help?

If so, we need to do a lot better. It's not our concern where the money goes once we give it away, it's not our concern if the person is crazy or lazy or whatever. It is our concern that if we have an opportunity to help someone, no matter how that opportunity came about we are obligated to do what we can out of a sense of right, a sense of community. I urge everyone to remember the generous spirit of our nation. Before Bernie Madoff was prime headline news, we were being fed pulsating reports of philanthropy from Oprah's latest "give" to lists of corporations and families who find creative ways to put their money and time towards the work of bettering this nation and the world. In this downturned economy, I think it's even more necessary than usual to be prudent with our stinginess.

In my belief system, it can actually adversely affect me to actively look the other way when I know there's someone that I can help. It's in this spirit that I think BIC powers can be used for good. I'm proposing that each of my readers that I can drive to this do something "crazy" to help someone/something/some people, who- or whomever you wish. Report it back to me here in the comments section or email me at I'll post the stories as they come. Whatever you do, no matter how small, as long as you've genuinely helped someone desperately in need of help (and this doesn't include men desperately in need of love, by the way), I want to hear about it. In my social experiment, my thesis is that women's BIC power can be used to change the world. I'm sure you agree, so help me prove it.

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Throwback BIC: My Lovin (Never Gonna Get It)

"gave you many chances to make change/the only thing you changed was love to hate..."--En Vogue

From the outside looking in, En Vogue seemed so sweet and mild-mannered. They were pretty girls with a harmony so tight it gave you goosebumps to hear them sing a capella. Yet, just under the surface lurked the hot hood mess that was Dawn, and the in-fighting that would eventually dismantle the group. Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted!

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Monday, January 26, 2009

Greedy BIC: Doing The Most

"the wells get deeper/more unfolds/and at the bottom/there she goes/but wells are endless/i find more..." --Solange

Having a baby is one of the most beautiful things on earth, and I've often wondered what it would be like to not be able to reproduce. There are so many things that can go wrong where your fertility is concerned, and despite what media and general beliefs would have you to believe, the window for having a child of your own is actually quite small. Some women of 35 and 36 have tremendous difficulty conceiving and have to turn to egg donation and/or in-vitro fertilization (IVF). As someone who has worked in and is experienced in the fertility & reproductive options industry, I am constantly amazed at women's desperation and greed when it comes to assisted reproduction. There's Jon and Kate, who, although they have a lovely family and a cute little show, should never have transferred six embryos into Kate's uterus in the first place. And now, we have an unidentified woman (like we won't be able to find out who she is the minute she leaves the hospital) who just gave birth in Bellflower, CA (not too far outside of LA) to octuplets. That's right, eight children. Six boys and two girls, weighing between 1 lb. 8 oz. and 3 lbs. 4 oz. They're all alive, I'm assuming they're relatively healthy, and the mother is doing "fine". How could she not be doing fine? She's certainly doing better than when she was lugging eight tiny humans around in her belly for 30 weeks. But the bigger question is: why eight?

Again, as someone with experience in this field, I'd like to acknowledge the slim possibility that this woman did not use fertility drugs or an egg donor. That possibility is macrobiotic-diet skinny. I'm willing to bet this woman's ovaries were stimulated up the ying yang. And she probably opted to transfer eight embryos because she thought that only one or two would take. Well, newsflash: they all took. I find that women in the predicament of having to have assistance with their reproductive efforts so through stages from pessimistic ("only one or two will work so I'll transfer 12") to greedy ("well if I have 12 embryos to work from, I'd rather just use them all") to lazy/spoiled ("I mean, I'll just transfer them all, because I really hope to have twins or triplets and be done; I don't want to be pregnant more than once").  Unfortunately, some infertility doctors are enablers, allowing some dastardly mess to go down with patients who clearly don't believe in selective reduction. The woman who gave birth today should never have had eight embryos put into her uterus. If you can't see yourself with eight children (which few people can), don't take for granted that some of the embryos are not going to take, assume that they all will. Eight children is not cute, especially when they're all the same age. That's a litter, like a dog. And we all know, in the pet store of life, who the dogs actually are.

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That's Because You're Licking The Carpet

"just be a man about it..."--Toni Braxton

 I don't think it's a secret to anyone I know well that I have a major celebrity crush on two very unlikely characters. The first is by far the most perplexing: Weezy F. Baby. In a real-world scenario, that person could never, ever touch my body. But there's something about his talent, his charismatic little gremlin-esque "thing" he has going on...God help me, I don't know what it is. I'm "a milli/a milli"-ed out. Bygones. The other crush is not quite as out there. I always go for the arrogrant, talented music cats--story of my life--it's just that this one is often whiny and always short and can generally be slightly b-made. And yet, I think I would marry him tomorrow. Kanye is just The Truth. And even though he's constantly coming with some new SMH material on his blog and in the media, he has forever cemented his crush status in my book with the knowledge he recently dropped to the folks over at Bossip:

Bossip: Yeezy, what makes a man sexy to a woman?

Yeezy: In my situation as a single mogul and as a grown man, what should make a guy sexy to a woman is the idea of security. Security and time are the sexiest things that you can give to a woman. The idea that you can spend time with them, and the idea that they’re not gonna have to worry about anything; worry about you cheating. They’re not gonna have to worry about the light bill or the car bill. I think you can exude some of that in the way you dress. If you dress too silly, you look like you’re just playing around and you might not pay the bills.

For real, the dude just did SO much work for me. Truer words have never been spoken.

So, earlier, I shared this thought with my BFF. The conversation went like this:

BFF: but he's implying there is no romance without finance!


BFF: what if the chick wanted to take care of the dude?

ME: [expletive] that. she's stupid.

BFF: [silently agreeing]

ME: no woman should be taking care of a man. period.

BFF: well, i was just discussing this with my girl the other day-

ME: that's NOT the order of things!

BFF: where she was like "i recognize i am the breadwinner"-

ME: [another expletive; forgive me, Lord] a breadwinner.

BFF: "and if i want kids, i'll just have to work harder"-

ME: [forgive me AGAIN, Father] working harder.

BFF: [silently agrees again]

Let me introduce myself: I'm a whip-smart, talented, fun-loving young woman who is tired, and I'll admit, ever-so-slightly bitter. Not Misery bitter, not Thin Line bitter, but just bitter enough to be shrewd about men for the first time in my life. See, I'm one of millions of young, workaholic women on a grind who takes care of themselves, the men they fall in love with, and basically everyone around them. I'm that girl who's passed on a lot of "security" for true love, love that didn't always turn out to be so true. Don't get me twisted: I have no problem with who I am. I'm a woman that's passionate, compassionate, nurturing, and understanding--and I'm cool with that. But that old train of thought--when I thought that any situation with a man was fine as long as you loved him--is officially a Great Moment in Black History . But there's this thing that comes upon you as you get older that's absolutely fabulous: wisdom.

Wisdom teaches you to erase some of the insanity from your life, insanity being doing the same damn thing over and over expecting a different result. Well, the one outstanding thing I've managed to do more than once is fall in love with a man solely for love, caring about absolutely nothing else. Caring little about the fact that he didn't make enough time for me and expected me at his disposal; ignoring the fact that his vision of love didn't ever match my own, turning a blind eye to the fact that he didn't take care of me the way I deserved, even when he very well could. That's the mistake most young women make at some point in their youth, and who knows, maybe a mistake my own child might one day make. Well, God willing Mama will be there to pick up the pieces and drop some serious knowledge on the situation because it is just not smart for any woman to make love--and certainly not lust--her sole reason for being with a man.

The natural order of things is for man to be first and woman to follow. That doesn't mean women are "submissive" in the most carnal sense; it means that men set the tone and women react. That's who we are as a species; we're reactors.  Men need to offer something--something other than dick, something other than dates, something other than great conversation. Men are supposed to be providers, period. They are supposed to make things happen in the lives of women and have our backs. They're supposed to give every type of support available--emotional, financial, social, spiritual, intellectual.  This is not to say that women don't need to be able to provide for themselves and make things happen in their own lives. Far from it: that's exactly what all women must be able to do, particularly because we never know when we might have to, whether we presently have a man or not. But no man needs to get in any woman's face without something to offer. That goes against the order of things.

I'm not naive; sometimes a man can't offer financial support yet, but he's the truth on spiritual, intellectual, and emotional support (i.e. Barack when he met Michelle). Maybe what they have to offer is raw talent or ambition. These things can be worked with, depending on the type of woman in the equation. In a case like that, of course, they really need to be able to offer to show that they have good intentions down the line. But someone coming with no plan of action, no general outline, no time, and no finance is not worth the air he's taking up breathing in your face, and that's real.

I've often wished I could be a real, live, unadulterated LA Girl gold-digger. Things are so cut and dry for them. There are no emotions to deal with, no pieces to pick up. Alas, that is not my calling. I'm not easily impressed by material things and I don't have the patience to deal with any man that's not intriguing to me, regardless of his financial/social status. But when it comes to signing up longterm for anything, here's the newsflash: I want a man. You are not a man if you are not holding down and making the situation safe and comfortable for all involved. I'm perfectly capable of holding it down if something went wrong, but the bottom line is I don't want to have to. I don't want to be a dude. I'm clearly a chick. So treat me like a woman and I'll treat you like a man.

For the set whose response to this is "you don't understand how hard it is to be a man and have the weight of the world on your shoulders!", I say that no one ever said being a man is easy. That's why women are created the way we're created, to be the backbone and support for the pressure and weight that men carry by carrying us. And only women have the strength to shoulder their man's stuff along with their own. But we should only offer the best of our glory--our strength--when it's truly deserved.

A lot of men get all of this twisted. "Security" is different for every woman, but the feeling is the same. Personally, I am just now crafting what security really is for me, but I know exactly what it's not. It's not hifalutin notions about what other women might want, some crazy amalgamation of concepts drawn from movies, music, and perpetuated ideas about what we're on the hunt for these days. For instance, I'm personally uninterested in a man who tells me that when he's in my life, I won't need to work again. Don't tell me not to work again. I will always work. So you telling me I won't have to work anymore is not particularly helpful, nor does it make me fall in love with you to imagine my life without anything to do but be all up under you. I love to work; I just want to work for myself. In fact, why don't you help me start some businesses? Why don't you fund some entreprenuerial efforts of mine? Why don't you introduce me to more of the right people; why don't you put in some calls for me? Furthermore, make something official before you start talking all that noise about not working anymore. Men have gotten too comfortable with romantic hypotheticals, generalizations, and daydreams. I'm over the starry-eyed fantasy; it's played. Sign some papers. Put a ring on it. Set up a bank account. In my name. Only. Give me capital and support and advice. Fund me and I'll flip that money like an omelette, get you back and make you fall in love with me for real, for real. 

Then, and only then, would I change anything about my life. But until you make an effort to do something--anything--along those lines, me no believe-y.

Sum it up to say this: somehow, men have been given some incredibly warped ideas about what is sexy to women. Not girls, women. So I'm here to disabuse the ones I've run through and the ones my girls and I have yet to turn down of their notions of what is sexy to real women. Fellas: 

Your body is not sexy. Your sex is not sexy. Your crib is not sexy. Your car is not sexy. Your chain is not sexy. Your ability to massage is not sexy. Your Blackberry is not sexy. Your romantic booty chatter is not sexy. Your baby-making prowess is not sexy. Your California king is not sexy. Your wedding white bedroom is not sexy. Your cooking skills are not sexy. Your knowledge of wines is not sexy. Your Christian Audigier is not, nor is your Purple Label sexy. Your buy-the-bar status is the farthest thing I can think of from sexy.

What is sexy, you ask? Let's see:

Your genuinely evolved mind is sexy.  Your intelligence is sexy. Your Jesus swag is smokin' hot. Your character is sexy. Your integrity is very sexy. Your good intentions are sexy. Your provider status is sexy. Your passion is sexy. The pedestal you put me on is sexy. Your high expectations of me are sexy. Your trust is sexy. The time you give me that you don't have to give is sexy. Your commitment is sexy. Your friendship is sexy. Your honesty is sexy. Your style is sexy. Your loyalty is sexy. Your self-control couldn't be sexier.

Kanye is on the right track. Women are definitely looking for time and security, but those two broad concepts can be misleadingly precise. There's a whole world of sexiness inside of those bookends, and it's the men that can identify that world and explore it that get the best women. Good women aren't hard to find and beautiful women are a dime a dozen. But excellent women--women that are the very embodiment of what a woman should be in beauty, intelligence, passion, maturity, femininity, grace, elegance, and strength--are a rarity. It's the men that take the time to discover just what turns these women on that are winners. And winners take all.

Sidenote: All the stuff that wasn't sexy? Yeah...that stuff all gets sexy when you check off all the stuff on the is sexy list. just thought I'd throw that on out there...

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BIC Must See: Revolutionary Road

"day after day/there are girls/at the office/and men will always be men/oh don't/send him off/with your hair still in curlers/you may not see him again..."--Dionne Warwick

Speaking of movies: In addition to the laughfest that is going to be Obsessed, there are some BIC fodder movies this season that won't make you so much as chuckle, but just might change your life. One such film is  Revolutionary Road, which I've decided to spotlight here because the Academy idiotically shut it out of damn near every category, excepting Supporting Actor (although I must admit that Michael Shannon did a fantastic job) and two minor categories. To be sure, Revolutionary Road is actually one of the best films I have ever seen in my life. Most notable for the purposes of this forum, it centers nearly completely around female insanity, the kind of perceived psychosis that ruins families. Kate Winslet is absolutely brilliant as April Wheeler, a dissatisfied young Connecticut housewife in the 1950's. It's arguable whether or not there's actually clinically something wrong upstairs, but what I found most admirable is that the perception of her level of crazy is left completely up to interpretation, Yellow Wallpaper-style. Add to that that the catalysts for the breakdown of the marriage in question are portrayed in a breathtakingly honest way. 

I'm sure some will inevitably feel that based on her character's behavior, she must be insane. Others--like me--will see her as a victim of circumstances. I won't include any spoilers here because I hope you all see it; but suffice it to say that she is the very epitome of BIC, whichever lens through which you view the film.

*In a DIC sidenote, Leonardo DiCaprio is definitively, undeniably genius in this film, and the fact that he's not nominated for an Oscar is an unspeakable atrocity. I would protest and not watch the ceremony if I wasn't so interested in seeing who wins Best Supporting Actress.

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Here We Go...

"you/must/have/lost yo mind..."--Beyonce Knowles Carter

Let the games begin...

We all recognize that while Beyonce is a ridiculously talented entertainer, her forays into acting...leave a little to be desired. Okay, a lot. But I truly feel that Bey has found her niche in this seemingly over-the-top thriller. It's classic Beyonce: she gets to look sexy, strut around a sexy man, and act a fool. In the Book of Beyonce, it can't get very much easier than that. I, for one, fully intend to be there front and center on opening weekend after getting loaded at Pink Taco. I know this mess is going to be hilarious and I think that three extra-large margaritas is better than popcorn for this flick.

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Throwback BIC: Cool

"it's hard to remember how it felt before/now i found the love of my life..."--Gwen Stefani

No matter which way you slice it, Gwen Stefani is pretty fly, and "Cool" was by far the sexiest, most beautifully shot video she's ever done. I wonder sometimes, though, how her husband really felt about her big single/beautiful video all about her ex Tony from No Doubt? Sure, she's singing about the old days, and Gavin's also an artist, so he likely understands the nostalgic sentiment...still it's all a little strange, wouldn't you say? Anyhow, there's plenty more to discuss that's not-quite-right with Gwen, starting with her obsession with Harajuku girls, who I think she often fails to remember are actual human beings and not Asian Oompa Loompas.

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Random Thought

"you got me nervous and trembling/smoking cigarettes at night..."--Tweet

Has anybody speculated on whether or not Laura Bush might pick the Newport Lights back up now that she's sprung La Casa Blanca? And better question: could anyone really blame her if she did? After the past eight years, she must be crying in her sleep and relieving herself in mason jars like Howard Hughes. Furthermore, am I the only person who envisioned she and Barack sneaking a secret puff-puff-pass in a shadowy corner of the South Lawn the day he and Michelle visited the presidential mansion for the first time? I am? Oh, well. Now you're picturing it, too, so I don't feel as bad.

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Daily BIC: Nice Girls Finish Last

"i'm staying/i'm staying/and you/and you/and you/you're gonna love me..."--Jennifer Holliday

Still riding high from landing the first major interview with Mensa President Sarah Palin, Katie Couric apparently has no plans to be the bottom BIC ever again.
In a scuffle described in the media as a "coup", an interview that Katie's old NBC pal and co-anchor Matt Lauer bagged was mysteriously postponed. During the postponement period, however, the interviewee, pilot of the plane that landed in the Hudson River last week, was interviewed by Katie for 60 Minutes. The interview airs on February 8.  *Shrug* To be honest, in all likelihood I wasn't going to watch this particular interview anyway. All I know is the girl won, and that's good enough for me...

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Friday, January 23, 2009

Daily BIC: Woman to Woman

"i figured i'd talk to her woman to woman..."--Macy Gray

My Dearest Macy,

I hope this letter finds you well. At the very least, I hope it finds you sober. I'm quite the fan of yours! A few years ago, I absolutely could not stop playing "I've Committed Murder". What a genius song! You are very talented. Barack is actually partial to "Sex-O-Matic Venus Freak" from your first album. But I digress. Obviously, I'm not writing you out of the blue for nothing. I'm writing because recently, you asked a question.

Perhaps you recall. I suppose there was some sort of discussion of Barack, upon which you announced that you were in love with him, that you wanted to get married, and have his kids. And then, you asked the question--actually three questions-- "why am I not Michelle?", "who the f**k is she?", and then another "why am I not her?". Well, Macy, I'd like to try to answer those questions for you, as a courtesy. As you probably know I'm said to be a very elegant, gracious, and intelligent woman, which is certainly subjective; and yes, it's true that I am the First Lady of the United States. Between you and me, being fairly new to this role, I'm still adjusting to the process of reconciling who I am with who I need to be for the country. That said, I don't want my title to fool you. 

I am from the South Side of Chicago. Your pipe dream? Being in love with Barack, marrying him, having his kids? Been there, done that. That's who the f**k I am. And furthermore, I don't appreciate your forcing me to use that vulgar language. The reason you aren't me is because we serve an awesome God--and also because Barack prefers his women drug-free. I don't mind your crush on my husband, Macy--honestly, join the club--and I'm certainly not threatened by your comments. However, please avoid blatant disrespect. I get enough of that from Bill O'Reilly and Rush Limbaugh. This is not an attempt to intimidate you, Macy. I love you with the love of Jesus Christ, as I love everyone. But the next time you run off at the mouth while you're on a bender, don't expect what you get to come in the mail.

Best of luck with your music! I look forward to hearing nothing but hits from you.

All the best,

Michelle L. Obama

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Throwback BIC: Ice Cream

"baby come lay your body right here/i wanna ride it/switch it up/turn it around/now come and get inside it..."--JS

The Top 5 Surefire Ways To Prematurely Ruin A Potentially Promising R&B Soul Career in 2003:

5. Instead of some version of the tried-and-true first single themes like "i've cried so many times", "pack your bags and get out", or "i think that i'm in love with you", feature lyrics like "you ain't never seen a vanilla tootsie roll 'til you taste my ice cream".

4. Find a way to visually associate small children diving face-first into bowls of ice cream with you singing about your "ice cream".

3. Make sure that you suck on a big, obnoxious, dark-colored lollipop so that everyone can begin to formulate ideas about how hard you had to grind to get put on.

2. To ensure that people have the least respect for you as an artist possible, be your own video ho.

1. Give the virtuous and completely fetish-free R. Kelly the reigns to your entire career. See #4.

Congratulations! You're now well on your way to superstardom and longevity in the music business, just like JS.

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Thursday, January 22, 2009

Daily DIC: Hair Care

"fathers/be good to your daughters..."--John Mayer

New rule: all men need daughters. All men need daughters because a famous [and funny] Black man has made a movie called Good Hair, and it's not about having a baby with a Mexican.

If someone would have told me that Chris "Women Always Be Complainin, They Be Complainin" Rock was broken-hearted enough by his little girl, Lola's, simple question "Daddy, why don't I have good hair?" to make an entire documentary on Black women and their hair, I'd have stared at them for 30 seconds before wordlessly walking away. But make it he did, and debut it at Sundance he did as well, with one of the featured actresses, Nia Long. I'm anxious to see it, actually, and I'm also pretty darn proud of Chris. I guess at 40, he's kind of growing up. Or not. 

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Back In The Saddle Again

"love taught me/who was/who was the boss..."--Diana Ross

Hillary "HCIC" Rodham Clinton showed up and showed out today in her new office digs--which happen to be steps away from my old apartment in DC. I can't imagine waking up every morning knowing that Hill was in her office on the next block! Anyhow, she was clearly in her element, and everyone was just as excited to see her there as I am to watch her take this all in. This playback reminded me of the good old days when Hillary was my hero and could do no wrong. President Obama has truly managed to breathe new life into so many people and situations. When's the last time you saw Hillary this happy?

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Pimpin All Over The World

"i'm a dirty gorilla wit a/weapon to kill the coochie..."--Napoleon da Legend

In other disgusting man news, the Italian Prime Minister is a pimp. And I don't mean that in any kind of nice way.

Silvio Berlusconi, the prime minister of Italy, presides over a country where women comprise startling low percentages of top jobs and Parliament. The Sumner Redstone of Italy apparently considers the government his opportunity to cross-market his fledgling television networks. His genius astounds me.

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Young Geezy

"where did you come from lady/and ooh won't you take me there..."--Michael Jackson

Sidenote: I not only find it crazy, but personally offensive for a nearly 50 year-old broad to look this flawlessly youthful with little-to-no makeup on. I know, I know: "black don't crack", but this is just damn ridiculous!

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Who Needs An Excuse?: The Case for PMS

"as i swing back/mood to mood/it's not because of you..."--Monica

For all the men who've decided to put their foot down where pre-menstrual shenanigans are concerned, I'm here to post a bulletin: don't. You'll lose this war; it's just not in your best interest.   Here's the thing: women are happy to be able to have babies. It's the most beautiful thing in the world--so I've heard. How awesome is it to be able to literally carry someone inside of you, under your heart? One can only imagine what kind of love that breeds until one has actually given birth. But here's the flip side: the biological preparation? You know, the eggs dropping, the sloughing off of the uterine lining, the cramping, the bleeding, the hormones, the cravings, the gastrointestinal disturbances, the horniness, the restlessness, the fatigue, the mental anguish...yeah, all that? That gets old. As hell. Real quick. Think about it: women get their period, on average, around 12 or 13 years of age and continue going through the monthly process clear up until about 50. The only breaks--Lord willing--we get is when we're lugging around a 5 pound midget in our gut. So, when men boo-hoo about the 2-3 days out of the month when the women in their life act like complete lunatics, I say: man up. If you can't deal with a little verbal abuse for a couple days, then you have bigger problems than you think. Why don't you help your women find some solutions? Go get some evening primrose or herbal remedies for PMS, research and purchase something that might help. Make suggestions--when she is not pre-menstrual, might I add to be safe. Because just sitting around barking about how being rude is not the answer doesn't do anything but make us more mad, more whatever extreme emotion we're experiencing. Be smart, gentleman, and be sensitive. It could be worse; she could be pregnant.

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You're Never Alone

"just the two of us/we can make it if we try/just the two of us..."--Bill Withers

As far as celebrities I thought I'd never have anything in common with go, Mya ranks pretty high up on the list. But as she enters her second year of celibacy, I'm discovering more and more of a kinship... Joining the ranks of celebs hitting the web to rant and rail against the media and the ever-elusive "them", "y'all", and "they", Mya "My Ass Is Like Whoa" Harrison decided to set the record straight on the many rumors that have been circulating concerning her love life, her career plans, and the [in]occupation of her uterus. Apparently, she's not dating a billionaire, nor is she pregnant, penning a "Superhead"-esque autobiography, or even mildly intriguing at this point in time. Hey, I feel her. Hats off to her for not only diplomatically setting the record straight, but setting a good example while threatening bodily harm. Even in the age of Michelle Obama, Black women can take pride in that innate skill.

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Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Daily BIC: And Another One...

"she needs/wide open spaces/room to make her big mistakes..."-- The Dixie Chicks 

I now understand what cinched the instant bond between Vice-President Biden and President Obama--they both have wives who say what the hell they want, when they want, and don't apologize for it. 

Dr. Jill Biden, married to a man who is best known for his tendency to stick his foot in his mouth, showed yesterday on Oprah what makes their connection work. Jill, too, puts her foot in her mouth, though she apparently loves the taste. Announcing, rather egregiously and without concern for consequence, that her husband "had a choice" between Secretary of State and Vice-President. Aside from the fact that when he tried unsuccessfully to shush her, she gave him her best "you've got to be kidding me" look and continued talking, this declaration presents two issues: a) had Joe Biden chosen SOS, would Hillary Clinton have been offered VP, and b) was Hillary, then, always a second choice for SOS? Now, honestly, I really don't consider this a big deal at all; the chips fell where they were supposed to and everyone is relatively happy. I am, however, beyond excited that we have a new high-profile gaffe machine in the political spotlight that will no doubt be providing endless BIC fodder. Ka-ching!

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Instant Vintage

"it's a new day..."

One day, years from now, I will tell my children about what happened today in this country. And I will be just as proud then as I am now. Congratulations to President Barack Obama, First Lady Michelle Obama, and First Daughters Malia and Natasha "Sasha" Obama! I thank God for progress and for doing a new thing! 

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Monday, January 19, 2009

The Woman Behind The Man

"ima need coretta scott/if i'm gon be king..."--Fabolous

Today, I'm honoring a beautiful, talented young woman who devoted herself to a life of holding down a young, politically-active minister and helping him become who he is today--the only Black man in American history with his own national holiday. In other words, the only Black man in US history for which banks close. Contrary to popular belief, Coretta Scott King was no wallflower--she had a voice and intended to use it. True, she lived quietly while her husband was alive, staying largely in the background as she grew and cared for their family. But after he was gone, use that voice she did, becoming one of the nation's preeminent human rights' activists of the late 20th century. And yet, there's another side to Coretta Scott King, one that's not of wife, not of mother, not of politician or historical figure, but of partner. Equal. Bonnie to Clyde, Natasha to Boris, Hillary to Bill.

Only Coretta Scott King really knew Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.--because as we all know, the person who knows any man best is his woman. Coretta surely revered her husband in some respect; it's evident in the lifetime she spent filling his shoes. But I'll risk sacrilege to state the fact that she also knew him much like Michelle Obama knows her husband: as the negro with morning breath that slept with his mouth hanging wide open and his socks and drawers strewn on the bathroom floor from the night before; the man who wakes up, gets himself ready, kisses you goodbye, and doesn't think twice about the mess and four kids he's left behind for you to take care of--and the fact that, much of the time, he's just like a fifth one.

When she thought of her husband, I'm willing to bet that Coretta Scott King didn't first conjure up images of the "I Have a Dream" Speech or marches in Birmingham. She probably thought more of their pillow talk conversations about her role in the Civil Rights' Movement, times when he told her that she needed to focus on raising their children and not worry about getting her shine on--even though he initially met and came to know her as a high-profile activist college student.

Chances are she didn't think about his nights in jail for civil disobedience or his press conferences. She probably thought about when their first baby was born, or their quiet Sundays at church as a family.

She probably didn't think about how awe-inspiring and monumental it was for a Black man to have won the Nobel Peace Prize. She probably just thought about how wonderful it was that her husband was honored and how it felt to be with him when he found out about his accomplishment.

Her first thoughts likely weren't the throngs of people that showed up to hear him speak wherever he went. She probably just thought about how good it felt to know he belonged to her in the midst of all those people, if even just for a few moments.

Once he was gone, she probably didn't waste too much time thinking about the anxiety she experienced concerning his safety. She probably thought about how they lived their life in color, and tried to live it without fear.

She probably didn't harp on the times he cheated on her and the mistresses he kept. She probably thought much more about the the way he made love to her and the passion between them that created four children and fueled a movement.

When she remembered his funeral, her mind probably didn't immediately travel to the classic-but-morbid Life Magazine picture of she and their daughter, Bernice. She might have thought about later in the day after the funeral, standing in her front yard in a white dress, trying to figure out what was next and if she would have to share that journey with the world that took him away.

She likely didn't care about his visits to the Kennedy White House or his mixing and mingling with the nation's elite. She probably thought about the weight of the circumstances that brought Attorney General Bobby Kennedy and his wife to her quaint southern bedroom.

She probably didn't think about the fire bomb thrown into their home, or the crosses burned on the lawn there. She probably thought about what it was like to sleep in it all alone after he was gone.

My prayer is this: that when Coretta Scott King thought of the "King Legacy", she thought just as much about the revolution she was a key factor in building, and even moreso in maintaining clear up until her own death. I hope she thought about the meals she cooked, the children she bore, the ideas she helped generate, the energy she generated, the passion she infused, the love she provided, the security she offered, the calm she radiated, and yes, the draws and socks she picked up and washed and put back where they belonged...I hope she thought about how those things changed the lives of millions of Americans.

And so in my opinion, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day belongs just as much to Coretta Scott King as it does to its namesake. Not just because she held him down (and stayed fly while doing it), but because she continued his work after he was gone without anyone having her back (and stayed fly while doing that, too). She's a testament to the strength of a woman, not just because she supported him, but because she continued his work after he was gone without anyone to support her. She never remarried, but dedicated herself to a lifetime of service to the nation and people in need. She worked tirelessly to both influence legislation and continue the labor of grassroots change, all while preserving the integrity of her husband's ministry and protecting his legacy. The latter 20th century's most prominent civil rights leader raised four children alone in the deep south in the 1970's. Now that deserves a holiday.

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Friday, January 16, 2009

Daily DIC: A Day Late

"now that i'm miss thang/now that i'm a zillionaire/you scan the credits for your name/and wonder why it's not there..."--Alanis Morisette

New rule: con men should be easy on the eyes. Definitely not easy on the eyes, however, is the new opportunist in Oprah's life, a portly and pathetic old man who undoubtedly is still trying to
make something notable of what looks to have been a rather mediocre life. That's the only reason that he would come out 23 years after the fact with a book (The Wizard of O) and try to put Oprah on blast for doing cocaine. She had to be doing cocaine to be kicking it with this winner, a certified jerk who showed his character a long time ago when he tried to sue her for $20 million because he couldn't publish his tell-all; O's fault, of course, because of the publishing industry being so deep in her pockets with all her dastardly Book Club antics. Yes, the nerve of Oprah trying to encourage people to read! Oh, for shame. Also--and it must be said--we all know the first sign of a cokehead/crackhead is weight loss! Doesn't take a genius to see that Oprah couldn't have been hittin the pipe too hard and that she's not hittin it now. So what? I'd be quite surprised if this cad came up.

The saddest part of this whole thing is that Oprah actually loved him. "I can't think of anything I wouldn't have done for that man," she says. And in same old news, O, he can apparently think of some things he wouldn't do for you. 

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Daily BIC: Ho Sit Down?

"you nasty girl/you nasty you trashy/you classless girl/you sleazy/you freaky girl..."--Destiny's Child

If Jack the Ripper was, in fact, a woman, that would explain a whole lot. First, it would make understandable the precision with which each of the victims were murdered--women always set out to do something and get it done, no holds barred. Secondly, it would explain how she was never found out--women, if they absolutely have to, can keep a secret and/or lie until the end of time. Finally, the murderer killed five prostitutes without ever, um, "requesting their services"? To men, that's the equivalent of throwing out your favorite food because the sell by date is yesterday. Even in a puritanical nineteenth century London, that doesn't add up. You do the math.

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Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Daily BIC: Lil Kim

"the more and more i looked out for you/you tried to play me like a fool..."--Keyshia Cole

A couple years ago, I went to comedy show where Mo'Nique shouted out her "boo" Gerald Levert, whom she was dating at the time and was seated center of the front row. She had all us dying laughing as she announced that although she wasn't the only woman he was seeing, he was the only man she was dating. "You know what I'm talking about ladies," she said, "when you kickin' it with a dude who's your boyfriend, but you ain't his girlfriend?"

I, of all people, understood. And quietly, so does Lil Kim. The "love affair" we all believed had gone down between Biggie and Kim in the heyday of Junior M.A.F.I.A. is increasingly revealing itself to be a figment of Kim's imagination as she loses her mind over the release of Notorious, the Biggie biopic. Although I didn't discount what Faith had to say, I just hardly considered her the expert source for information about her husband's jumpoffs. However, with the careful, gentle wording of Voletta Wallace, Puffy's purported dismissal of Kim's rant against the film, and finally, Charli Baltimore's complete smackdown of Kim, I don't think anyone is entirely convinced that Kim had any status whatsoever. She gets a BIC award for her pathological belief that she and BIG were a serious item when he not only had a wife, but a girlfriend.

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How You Gonna Keep Em Down On The Farm After They've Seen The White House

"what can we say/it's family..."--Jill Scott

My grandmother, Gwendolyn Mae aka Grandmommy, was the best cook I have ever known. She loved cooking more than anything, and the praise she earned from it was her life's bread. Everyone who ever tasted her food marveled at her talent and once in her home, people ate until they were sick. That said, it would probably disturb a whole lot of those folks 
unacquainted with the ways of true, down home southern cooking--especially the occasional vegetarians that passed through her home-- if they knew that my grandmother used bacon grease in just about everything, from cornbread to greens to spaghetti to fried chicken to beef pot roast. Some people believe in garlic; some people believe in cayenne pepper. My grandmother believed in bacon grease. In fact, she began most days with coffee and several pieces of bacon. Not so much because she craved it, but because she was wholly dedicated to having a full 32 oz. cup of relatively fresh bacon grease at her disposal at all times. When you cooked on my grandmother's stove, you knew to either move or be careful not to disturb the aluminum foil-covered mug of bacon grease, because it would be your tail if something happened to it. So it came as a surprise to no one in our family that she was nearly detained at the airport on her way to Los Angeles during the holidays in 2004 for trying to smuggle bacon grease onto an airplane. 9/11 be damned, my grandmother had a huge Christmas dinner to make and no time to recreate her stash by making ten packages of bacon in an unfamiliar kitchen. Needless to say, TSA was befuddled.

Well, they might be looking at a similar bemusement later this week as President-elect Obama's grandmother, Sarah Obama, prepares to hop on a flight from Kenya to DC for his Inauguration, trying to haul a spear along for the ride. Granted, it's a traditional spear and shield from the tribe of his family, and granted, it's a lovely gesture. I hope he might even find a special mounting place for it in the Oval Office to keep him honest. But I could not help but be reminded of Gwen when I read the quote from Grandma O: "But I have been told that due to security reasons I will not be allowed to board a plane with it." Ya think??

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Throwback BIC: Ain't It Funny

"now i'm seein how you're kinda lame/seein how the situation changed..."--Jennifer Lopez

There's no doubt that Jennifer Lopez is BIC, but she makes it so hot! In light of the tacky, ill-fitting gown she wore to the Golden Globes this past Sunday (I seriously refuse to even link that thing), I was dreaming of the "fly"-er days of our beloved J to tha Lo when she could do no wrong, which this video epitomizes.

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Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Money Can't Buy You Love

"well i don't care too much for money/cuz money can't buy me love..."--The Beatles

We all know that love don't cost a thing, but apparently sex does. And sex with a virgin will really break the bank. Let's just call this another victim of the economy, shall we? For those of you too lazy to click on links, 22 year-old Natalie Dylan has decided to hawk her innocence on the Internet for money to get her graduate degree. She's really coming up in the process, however, because even the best degrees in the country don't cost more than $300K. She's been offered $3.7 million. That's a whole lot of master's degrees. Some might call this innovative and entrepreneurial; and some might think it's great that a 22 year-old even has virginity to sell and that it's wonderful that she so values education. I, however, have a few issues with this young woman's decision, that I will share after the jump.

The first major issue here is that this girl is following in the footsteps of an older sister who financed her own education by becomine a prostitute for three weeks. I won't attack prostitutes--everyone does what they need to do to get by. But honestly, making it common knowledge and flaunting it around is a little beyond the pale. I wonder if it's a sign of high self-esteem or extremely low self-esteem that causes one to sell their body for school funds? Either way, I suppose $3.7 million could easily remedy whatever it is.

Natalie also said she doesn't find her virginity to be "significant". If not, then why has she kept it for so long? I'm curious. Could it be the degree in Women's Studies? Could it be that she's not into men, anyhow? Makes you wonder...

Finally, for whatever reason, we know that men love a virgin. But who knew they were worth millions? Seriously, 10,000 men have bid on this chick. Is innocence and an untouched quality that desirable to today's man? These can't all be freaks and weirdos. Who knew? Maybe we should take this as a lesson not to spread ourselves so thin. Although sadly, even knowing I could have come up on almost $4 million at some point in the future wouldn't have kept me from "the d" back in the day.

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Throwback BIC: Shoop

"i love you/in your big jeans/you give me nice dreams/you make me wanna scream/ooh ooh ooh..."--Salt N' Pepa

Although this was before their peak hit, when En Vogue was all there was to know about R&B and Spinderella was given a chance to spit her own verse (see "Whatta Man"), no woman that came of age in the 90's can deny that they still know all the lyrics to this song. Featured because of: the men in multi-colored trunks doing jumping jacks on the beach, the outfits throughout the entire video, Salt's "retard" sound after "twelve inches to a yard", and the delighted rapist gleam in Pepa's eye.

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Monday, January 12, 2009

No Strings Attached

"ain't no feeling like being free..."--Destiny's Child

It seems like from the time girls discover the fundamental difference between males and females, we're being pushed or pulled into a pair. Adults ask six year-old little girls who their boyfriend is, movies show fifth grade girls catching their schoolyard crush off guard by planting a big juicy kiss on him. High school girls feel pressured to have boyfriends and in college, everyone's speculating on who's hooking up with who. Then there's 'real life', in which women are expected to be on a constant hunt--or at the very least on the lookout--for a husband. It's neverending. And exhausting. Well, I'm checking out for an unspecified amount of time. And in addition to the fact that I'm at the tender age of 27 where many single women statistically decide they've had enough of the bull, I have some very good reasons.

1. I'm Tired

I'm fairly certain that I haven't had more bad experiences with men than the average woman, but after the past eight years, I do think I may have far less patience. There was a time in my life where I had limitless amounts of goodwill towards men. I was a player of "the game". I found it exciting and entertaining. It wasn't always pleasant and I did have to turn the other cheek many times, but in hindsight consider it no skin off my back. As the years have gone by, however, I've found myself increasingly unable to stand complete foolishness. I no longer have the stomach for lies, the heart for neediness, or the patience for anyone who can't auto-correct after one warning. The freedom that comes from reaching your tipping point is exhilarating! It's like getting the chance to live a whole new life.

2. They Don't Make Them Like They Used To

We are fortunate to live in the Information Age, where knowledge is at an unprecedented high and we have so many awesome advances in various industries. And granted, there are many things I disdain about the old American way of life, the nuclear family-driven 1950's and 1960's, that forced women into a creepy little box of wife, mother and socialite, seemingly without their consent. But I do long for the days [I've never experienced] when men didn't text, SMS, email, MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, and IM their way to ass. Men today skip so many steps and expect you to be overjoyed at any small measure of chivalry (fellas: listing all the chivalrous things you did all night automatically renders you completely ineligible for the goods). In this world of scarily short attention spans and obsession with what's next, it's hard to find men that have been conditioned to enjoy the process. Well, guess what? I'm going through the process by my damn with or without a man that's conditioned to enjoy my journey. And just for the record, that journey includes increased level of productivity and a more heightened focus than I can recall having in years.

3. My Standards Have Gotten Too High

Typically the longer women have to tap their fingernails waiting on Mr. Right, the lower their standards become. Some broads find themselves on waiting lists for Lowered Expectation-esque dating services and websites trying to find someone to spend the rest of their life with. I, for one, refuse. The longer I've "waited", I've uncovered so many far-reaching examples of what I don't want that the list for what I do want has gotten longer and longer. Yet, it's also gotten more precise, which means I'm getting warmer and that when the right one comes along, I'll know him even better. I won't bore you with the [62-point] list, but I will say that he's spiritual, funny, talented, ambitious and doesn't have to warn me about his penis size--either way.

4. I Find It Difficult To Hide Revulsion

Some women are great actresses. I take that back. All women are great actresses, when they want to be. I, however, have no desire to act like I like someone that I don't. I've tried it for the sake of the bigger picture, but I've found that no picture is big enough to be bored, disgusted, or annoyed for any amount of time. Not saying that people I've loved haven't ever elicited those reactions, but we all know being in love covers over a multitude...

5. I'm Quick To Anger

Despite the many admonitions of Jesus, my temper can be a doozy. To my credit, I am slow to irate screaming matches. But I'm pretty much a sprinter when it comes to employing tactics like silent treatment and cold stares. I figure it's probably best to work on this outside of a relationship, particularly since life with any man is bonehead move-laden. It's pretty much something for which you should be fully prepared.

6. I'm Poor

Since I have a problem with feeling like anyone has too much of an upper hand on me, I prefer to be in a position to pay for things, at least my own, when necessary. This is not one of those times. In fact, I found last week that two of my savings accounts were closed due to inactivity. Meanwhile, I recently began putting $50 a month into my primary [read: sole] savings account and feel as though my entire lifestyle has changed. This does not a rich girl make. My hand-to-mouth status is not conducive to a healthy relationship, as I would surely end up homeless trying to one-up any potential suitor worth my time. Not saying the windfall's not coming, just saying it's not here today. And probably won't be tomorrow.

7. I'm Getting To My Number

I made a deal with myself years ago that there was a certain number of partners that I absolutely could not exceed before marriage in order to be respectful to my future husband (I know, I don't really believe in that stuff where the big picture is concerned, but personally, yeah, I'm a little Victorian. So what?). Well, damned if I'm not toeing the line. I've been abstinent for over a year--with the slight exception of some random, idiotic throwaway "hook up" in September; please don't ask--so why would I ruin a perfectly good run with someone who wasn't totally worth it? As Kim says "I don't want anyone else diggin' in my coochie that's not my husband". For once, she and I totally agree on something that has to do with sex! I think that declaration appropriately conveys the feeling of being totally burned out on the whole thing. My Grandmother used to say "there's nothing worse than a ho than an old ho or a poor ho." I'll leave it at that and let you complete that thought. It actually ended up being a lot more depressing than I'm willing to handle.

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