Apologies for no blog today (or at least not yet! I may post later if I have time.)
I *heart* Mrs. Obama for many reasons-- most important because she stands BESIDE her man, not behind him (despite the above picture). There will be no glazed over blank looks at her husband the way Nancy Regan did for her hubby or the way Bey gushes for ex-President Carter. No, she shows her man the respect he's earned, but she's no bimbo.
I love her for being able to support without sacrificing her strength. She was the breadwinner of the household, but quit her well-into-six figure salary to support her man's bid for the top spot. I also read in Time, I think it was, how hubby was working on a speech and he was frustrated and in deep thought. She interrupted him to say something like, "Hey... I love you and I think you're brilliant." In the same story (I think), the writer details a time when Barack was booed at a rally and Michelle called into the post-rally conference call to flip on whoever left her man out there vulnerable like that. She don't play when it comes to her man. LOL!
I love her for whatever she does to make Barak Obama bite his lip when he looks at her. They were on Oprah one time and he was in the stage and she was in the audience. Oprah asked her some question about him that Michelle wasn't expecting. She answered flawlessly and when the camera flashed back to the stage, Obama was grinning so hard at the woman he had to bite his lip to compose himself. I love it!
I love her for being half of an amazing team. It occurs to be as I see countless pictures of the Obamas splashed all over the papers and the Web that it's been awhile since we've seen a strong Black woman who has a man. We've got plenty of strong single women, so many that it's become an unshakable stereotype that strong woman is equated with a lifetime of lonliness as if success and companionship are only made for men. Michelle Obama is like a real-life Claire Huxtable sent from Middle Earth (you had to be at the LTBD late to get that one) to America-at-large to remind a bunch of almost-grown Black girls who grew up on The Cosby Show that Claire wasn't just a figament of some producer's imagination or relic of our mama's generation. We needed Michelle Obama like scraped knees need Band-Aids.
The general election hasn't begun just yet and already shots are being taken at Michelle. (OMG! I fell a little bit in love with Barak watching him defend his wife on Good Morning America. I think all of the women in America did too. Note to the GOP: that backfired bigtime.) Undoubtedly, she'll be under plenty of attacks in the upcoming months. And she'll never read this blog, but I will send out my words of encouragement, strength, and love for her and her husband in the upcoming months anyway.
I salute Michelle Obama for living the impossible dream and being a phenomenal woman. Thanks for the reminder that having it all isn't easy, but it's possible if I want it.
So I’m on the train with Patent and Nel one day headed to a friend’s birthday party in Brooklyn. On the A, we bump into one of Patent’s friends, who I immediately loved. There was something about him—good energy, positive dude, great personality. Just before he walks up to speak to Patent we were all mid-conversation about Italia Blue’s body of work and how all of us need a new actor or actress to follow. It’ll be tough. Italia’s good; she really brings out the best in her co-stars.
We resume the conversation and New Guy interjects that we should take a look at RedTube for new films.
He nods. “It’s like the You Tube of porn. You gotta take a look.”
Carm agrees. “Red Tube. Good shit.”
Red Tube, huh?
I check it out. Eh. It’s underwhelming. Not enough variety and not enough Black people. I mean I know it’s all sex just the same, but I need to see folks of my color getting it on. Unless it’s a white guy built and hung like Mr. Marcus, I’m generally not interested.
A couple days later, I’m in Jamba Juice with Joshua, another male friend, and I complain again about the lack of material in my life. He has just the solution.
“Rude.com. They have everything.” He slurps his Mango-A-Go-Go thoughtfully, before adding,
“If you can’t find something you like there, you’re a pervert.”
I check it out that night. There is something for everyone. I don’t have a new favorite star yet but I’m actively looking. If ever I see New Guy again, which I’m sure I will (I live on Main Street, so does he) I’ll mention it to him.
A month later…
Stoli vodka is determined to ruin the liver of every industry insider in this city. Someone had the brilliantly bright idea to rent out a warehouse, call it the Stoli Hotel and have a different magazine co-sponsor the venue every night, including weekends, for 2-weeks. Stoli has officially hijacked New York City. I hold out on going for the first week as I’m going through a detox phase. Partying every night is losing my interest and I’m convinced my liver will shiver up if I don’t take care of it better. Plus, I’m worried that I’m becoming one of those people that has to be around people in order feel whole.
Coming home every night after work gets boring after around Day 4. The morning of Day 5, I convince myself that I don’t have to drink when I go out and I’m still very okay being alone. I just don’t like sitting in my house. When I don’t go out, I feel like I’m missing something—some opportunity, some new source, some potential news or blog worthy story. No newsworthy story has occurred in my living room.
So I go to the Stoli hotel after work one night. I guess I went on the wrong one because it was wack. And the music wasn’t Black people friendly. That said, I appear to be the only person not having a good time. Maybe it is because I’m sober. Hmmm.
I stay for about an hour until I can’t take it anymore. The guys I’m with are somewhere around Drink Eight and have started on a singleminded quest to meet al of the Black women present.
Eh. It’s time to go home.
I’m headed for the exit when I spot New Guy in the crowd. He seems taller than I remember, but still wonderfully cute. I run up on him, startling him accidentally. He seems to quickly recognize me and we exchange a cheerful embrace.
“I knew I’d see you again,” I tell him. “This city is soooo small.”
“It is isn’t it?” He’s beaming like he’s got a big secret I’m not in on.
I assume it’s the alcohol. He’s probably only a couple from his limit too. “Hey, I checked out that site you told me about,” I tell him.
Yup. It’s the liquor. We had a whole long conversation. He would definitely remember. “Red Tube.”
He lights up. “Really?”
“Yeah, I didn’t like it though. But I found this other one, Rude.com. That one’s way better, lots more content. You should try that one.”
“Word? I like real foul shit. Like I want to watch people do stuff a girl’s never gonna let me do.”
I laugh. “Um… they got some real crazy stuff on there, but I’m more of a nice- regular-sex girl. Nothing too far outside the box, but there’s a bunch of stuff. You should really check it out.”
He agrees to do so and after a bit more small talk, he heads to the bar as I head for the Exit.
Three days later..
Seventy degrees on a Saturday after a Friday night with horrid weather means there’s only one place to go. I meet Patent at the outdoor Cuban spot around seven with plans to eat, bounce to the opening of Pieces’ boutique new men’s store, then hit up Omar Hamilton’s bday party, which everyone and their mother is threatening to attend. Thirty minutes after our arrival, we bump into New Guy again. This always happens; I meet someone and then I see them everywhere from then on.
I greet him with a hug and he seems genuinely happy to see me this time. See? It must have been the liquor. We exchange small talk and he informs me that he took a look at Rude.com and liked what he saw.
I leave him on the sidewalk chatting with Patent as I run into the restaurant to get food. When I return, we’re chatting it up with some new folk when New Guy walks up wearing a different outfit. He seems shorter for some reason. The shoes? His face lights up and he gives me a gigantic hug like he hasn’t seen me in forever. Before I can ask where he’s changed to run off to this evening and why he’s re-greeting me (is he drunk again?), a guy who looks exactly like him in the same outfit New Guy had on just thirty minutes ago walks up behind him. He’s taller too.
It takes a beat for me to figure out what’s going on. “Oh my God!!!” I yell. I had no idea New Guy had a twin.
They start laughing. Apparently they get this reaction all the time.
I look at New Guy. No, the guy I thought was New Guy. I point. “I saw you at the Stoli party, didn’t I?”
He laughs. “Yeah, it was me.”
His brother looks puzzled.
I feel like an idiot, but I explain anyway to his sibling that I saw who I thought was him and got into a long involved conversation about porn with a total stranger and recommended this new site that I wanted to tell him about but told his brother instead. “Why didn’t you say something,” I ask New Guy’s Brother. “You must have thought I was complete nutcase.”
He shrugs. “Uh-uh. I just thought you were drunk and friendly. I was like ‘who is this cool ass chick?’”
We all laugh about my cluelessness and the randomness of these encounters. Just when I’m about to walk off to pick up the food from the counter, New Guy stops me. “Uh, D, what was the new site you recommended to my brother again?”
I laugh. “Rude.com.”
His brother taps him on the arm, nodding fiercely in concession. “Oh, man. Good shit.”
Rude.com: Uniting Brooklynites one twin at a time.
I’m sitting at this outdoor restaurant on Saturday, listening to a good friend and potential suitor tell me we have a connection. He’s amazing, a great guy, (cute too!) but not a guy for me. I tell him as much as nicely as possible because I love his friendship, which has spanned many years. He takes it well with a sigh.
Quickly, he’s over it when he spots a beautiful woman with fluffy hair and a well-supported shelf rising from her table. He immediately perks up as she comes our way. I do too.
Him: If it’s not you, it can defintely be her. [Big smile. Just that quick, I'm forgotten. LOL!]
Me: [Laughing] Dude, that’s my cousin!
Him: [Screwface] What?!! XXX is your cousin?!!!
Me: [Nodding] Blood related.
Him: [Bigger sigh] I guess it runs in the family.
Still waiting on the LTBD pics. They’re coming. Promise!
The pictures are here! The pictures are here!!! Shout out to Stephen Knight who rushed these to us!!!! Thanks, babes!!!
(The Honorees: They got takeover written all over thier faces, right?)
(The Legends to Be! There was so much fabulous energy and fashion in the room. I could hardly stand it!!)
(Arlene P. Inspiration 1, Nikki M., Inspiration 2, Belle & Hillary C.)
(Arlene P., Niki M., Lindi D., Belle)
Lola owner, Lola, & Mrs. M. (This pic sums up the night. These women just met. They are embracing like long lost cousins)
(A few of the men who suppport the women who make it all happen. one of them is the one who told me he wasn't moving from the table.)
(I love this shot! Mama was so proud of her baby!)
More Later.... The rest aren't in yet.
I don’t have one picture from last night’s event but there were 2 wonderful photographers who captured everything and then some. I was running around the room with my co-hostess, Nicole, and didn't snap one shot.
I’ll write more after I send out my thank yous to all the amazing people who made the event possible... and when I can get past describing everything and everyone as “the greatest ever.” LOL!
But while I’m here…
Special thanks to:
Nicole Senior – my partner in crime & partying, who among a million other logistical things, made the room look fabulous. I’m the dreamer of our pair. I’ll have these big fabulous ideas and Niki reels me from orbit with an “um, D…” to tell me what’s actually possible and plausible, but still gives me enough room to go slightly over the top. Last night’s dinner was supposed to be a simple gathering for around 20 people. We ended up with around 50 women, 30 guys, and 2 photographers, a liquor sponsor and gift bags. Thanks for letting me O.D., Nik.
Arlene Pitterson – the invites said Demi & Niki, but Arlene was the third hostess of the night. Not only did she know everyone in the room, she was in the trenches of planning with me & Nik. It started out with me just asking Arlene questions about lining up sponsors and morphed into her handling everything on that end for an event she wasn’t even sure she would attend. (She lives in the Midwest.) We were on the phone multiple times, daily for a month, planning, and her talking me down off the ledge and back into the room. (I have perfectionist tendencies. The smallest thing can send me out the window.) She managed to make it out. I was so, so happy to have her there. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for everything, babe!
Shannon Washington (honoree)—We’ve been friends for a long, long time. I still have the picture from ’97 when we met and I went with her and some friends to my first rave. She introduced me to Dave Matthews’ Crash album (still one of my faves) in her college dorm room (HU!!! Ever notice how you can’t give a shout out to a list of Black people without that school coming up? LOL!) She was one of last night’s honorees, which meant she should have been sitting pretty and just shown up fabulous and accepted her accolades. But no, sitting still just isn’t Shannon. She lined up the night’s liquor sponsor, prettified and tweaked the one-sheet that pulled in the others in, and did the invitations. Thank you for always being in motion and never sitting back to chill (unless it’s in Brazil or one of the many countless, fabulous places you're always running off to.)
Nicole Marzan (honoree)-- Nicole works in PR and just started her own firm with her bestie, Lindi. I called Nicole to ask her to be an honoree at the event, she said yes, and before she even got off the phone to let it all soak in, she started planning her own celebration. “Who’s doing press? Who’s the photographer? What’s in the gift bags? Who’s sponsoring?” She thinks as big as I do. Actually, maybe bigger. She answered her own questions, lining up all that and then some. Thank you, Niki Marz!
Baileys (Please Get Together Responsibly)/ Chantal DeSoto – Baileys was my Dream Sponsor from the gate when Niki and I put together our Wish List for the event. Chantal jumped at the opportunity and came through at every turn with gift, bags, tees, CDs... Stuff we didn't even think to ask for. She wanted the evnt to be as fabulous as we did. The drinks were WONDERFUL!!!!! Thank you, Chantal.
TROJAN condoms-- My theory for the night was we’re inviting all these women to a great night to celebrate their success. Baileys is providing spirits to keep everyone joyful during the event. And what better way for a girl to end her evening than with some good Vitamin D?! In case that was the plan for any of the grown ladies’ in attendance, I wanted to maximize the experience… with Trojan’s vibrating rings and condoms (guaranteed good time.) I announced that Trojan donated condoms to the gift bags and people broke out in applause like I’d just yelled Barack Obama won the general election. I hope many, many people had a safe and pleasurable evening!!!
Lola & Tom (Lola owners)- I love these people just for being who they are. They are gracious and humble and generous. I don’t know how long they’ve been married because I’ve never asked, but they still look at each other like the other half has set the sun in the sky. It’s something to aspire to. Last night and leading up to this event, they accommodated us in a multitude of ways. I won’t give all the background because the behind the scenes should stay just there, but they opened their beautifully amazing restaurant to us and bent in every direction possible to make sure everything ran smoothly and our event was a success. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I think Lola's wil become my new home restaurant. (Everyone should have a restaurant that feels like home away from home, where the bartenders and owners know your name.)
Gardy V. Guerrier— Bless this man for he rearranged travel plans to “work the door.” He ended up doing so much more, directing the photographers to capture our sponsors, producing photos (and an impromptu photoshoot), talking me down off the ledge in the weeks leading up to the event and so much more than I’ll list here. Thanks, G. I got you on the limo (inside joke). I was all prepared to thank him by buying dinner or taking him to brunch this weekend, but when I offered last night, he was like, “um, no. I need to thank you.” (Allowing a single Black man to get in a room full of gorgeous women seems to be priceless!)
Mack Peion & Stephen Knight (photographers)-- I haven’t even seen all the pictures but I know they are dope. These guys were everywhere and all over and in everyone’s face just like good photographers are supposed to be. Thank you, guys!!
Khalilah Raheem—she was supposed to just show up and have a good time. She ended up stuffing gift bags and countless other much-needed things to keep the event running smoothly. Thank you for letting me put you to work.
Brandi Greene- ie, the third leg of The Tripod. I don’t know if she thought she wouldn’t have to work, but um… no. LOL! Thanks, BB!
The Servers – They went above and beyond. They stuffed gift bags, did table settings and ran around all night like chickens with missing heads (how country am I?) and got it all done in a timely fashion. I love these people. If you need a reason to go to Lola’s beyond the food, the drinks, the décor, the convenient location, or anything else, go for the service. Good service can be hard to find in this city. Great service, like what we had last night, is next to impossible. Go make a reservation already!!!
Igor the Bartender- I have no clue what was in the caramel apple martini other than Baileys, but GOOD LORD that was good. GOOD LORD!
The Men—I tried to ban them from the event insisting it was a ladies only night. I didn’t want them distracting the women and trying to holla’ while we were supposed to be honoring our accomplishments and doing our Sisterhood thing. The men basically told me that was nonsense and that they were coming. Period. (Gotta love alpha males.) Realizing that there was no way I could stop men from getting to a room full of fabulous women in heels (shout out to Niki Marz's shoes. You'll see why when I post all the pictures) I extended an invite for them to arrive at 9:30.
These guys… LOL haven’t been to anything on time in their lives, but they showed up at exactly 9:30!!! A bunch of 'em came in suits and ties and hard bottom shoes, no less. (Um, and yes, ya’ll did look good. I ended up making eyes at an unlikely gentleman at the bar and had to remind myself men were not my focus for the evening. More on that another day.)
I think I may officially invite them next year. I know I couldn’t exist properly or sanely in this city without my guys (shout out to GVG, Rich, Moore, Jarrell, [my favorite letter of the alphabet :-)], and the most recent addition, Mack.) They, and many, many guys like them, support the ladies in countless ways and are a large part of the reason for their success (no woman is an island). Knowing all that, I tried to move a few who had snuck into the main room before it was time for them. One looked at me dead in my face and was like, “I’m family. I’m not moving.” And he is. So I gave up and just accepted him being there. (cue the Serenity Prayer now] LOL!
I’m not promising anything, but I’m thinking about letting ya’ll come on time next year.
Thanks to everyone who came out. I hope you had as much fun as I did.
My Daddy gave me a stern talking to about the amount of profanity in the blog when I was home over the weekend, so I guess I'm going to have to talk more like "a lady" since he's reading (Hi, Daddy! XOXO). I hated to tell him that the way I type is actually the way I think and talk. (I promise, I'm a lady, Daddy, I just talk like a sailor somtimes.) So for Daddy, I'll try to clean it up... some. But only the words, not the content. I mean this is a blog primarily about men, sex, and relationships, it can only be but so "clean" and stay realistic.
So with that said, I give you today's blog. More quotes from the crazies I encounter and those I call my friends. (You can't get mad at me for the cursing, Daddy. I'm quoting people!)
BTW: my Legends To Be Dinner is tonight and I have an amazing evening planned for the women. I'll post pictures tomorrow. I've been so focused on preparing for them and the honorees that I don't even have a dress!!!!
"I woke up butt naked on the couch with the taste of Hennessey and street meat in my
mouth."-- A woman recapping a story about the previous night's activities.
"Then he turns to me and says, 'I have to be forced to commit so we should make a baby tonight. Are you ovulating?'"-- Same woman, another detail from the same story.
"Be well. Grow in the direction of the light."- My closing remarks in response to a long e-mail from a misguided soul. (A more dignified way of saying 'f*ck you!' See, Daddy, I'm trying.)
"Barak Obama is Joseph Stalin." -- a drunk white guy yelling in Penn Station at 10:O0PM (my train was delayed. I didn't get to DC until 1AM).
"Woo Woo Woo. (Pause) Hey boo. (Pause) How you?" (Pause) Let me tie your shoe!" --An allegedly straight man hollering at a woman across a crowded restaurant bar.
"This is my mentee, XXX"- a barely grown ass man (my boy)introducing me to another barely grown ass man (maybe 3 years younger) who was okay with being introduced as an apprentice (Another one of my boy's tells me this a common DC practice for young men (27-30) to mentor other younger men (22-25) about the ways of life, women, and work. Is this my ego that's making me think this is insane? (Not the mentoring idea, but the introduction as such.)
"Just the seat I was looking for!" -- A woman moving to sit beside me in the aisle seat when the Amtrak car we were in had another 30 or so empty pairs of seats. (I wasn't sure if she was hitting on me or had no social decorum so I moved to another seat.)
"We won't bother ya'll. We'll just wait... Like lions watching water buffalo in the Serengetti." -- a male friend plotting on how he will invade, but not disturb The Legends To Be Dinner. (My male friends have been threatening to crash it since the Save the Date went out a month ago.)
"I ration the cock." -- an unnamed man trying to explain that he doesn't just have sex with every woman who shows interest in him.
"It's like being in the Serengetti. A man will always go for the weak one to f*ck."-- the same male friend explaining what woman a man is looking for at the club.
"Smile with your eyes, b*tches!"-- a beautifully gay man taking a picture of two straight men. After the shot, he explained that in this day of MySpace, Facebook, etc. that no one can afford to take less than model perfect pictures and he was only tying to help people who clearly needed it.
"Don't reach to be regular, D."-- my neighbor explaining why I should just ignore "bum b*tches" that tough type.
"My dick called me a dick"-- a man lamenting his morals invading upon his desire to get some and foiling the deal.