I Can’t Stand The Rain

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I live in Los Angeles and this winter has been filled with gloomy precipitation. Not figuratively, but actual inches of rain. One night, it stormed so badly, rainwater seeped through my bedroom window and woke me up with a splash. That is a pretty random occurrence when you sleep alone… OH right… remember that guy from my last blog post in 2013?

Well we broke up. I spent the past 3+ years going through quite a rocky relationship. In December 2015 he proposed and about six months later I gave the ring back. Boo-hoo. Sad story. Don’t worry, though. I won’t waste your time with the details because there are funner (yeah, funner) things to talk about!

I’m back on my single shit and dating has gotten MUCH more interesting since I’ve learned a few more tricks. If you are at all interested in my dating escapades, stay tuned. But if you’re the subject of one of these stories, I promise I won’t publish your name.

Furthermore, the ‘New Edition Story‘ which aired on BET in January was quite possibly the best three nights of my television history. I mean, nothing had me glued to the screen more than The Box, Orange Is the New Black, and every episode of Flavor of Love. Luke James (blesssss that man and everything he pursues in life!) as Johnny Gill had me on fire. And still does. Kudos to the entire cast; they were spot on.

But can I just vent for a moment? The boys sang “Can You Stand the Rain” (like no other rendition you’ve ever heard, might I add) and I got caught in my feelings. The lyrics say:

On a perfect day I know that I can count on you
When that’s not possible, tell me, can you weather the storm?
‘Cause I need somebody who will stand by me
Through the good times and the bad times
She will always, always be right there
Sunny days – everybody loves them
Tell me, baby, can you stand the rain?
Storms will come, this we know for sure
Can you stand the rain?
Love unconditional I’m not asking this of you
And, girl, to make it last I’ll do whatever needs to be done
But I need somebody who will stand by me
When it’s tough she won’t run
She will always be right there for me.
Speaking on behalf of my last relationship, how long is it supposed to rain? Los Angeles has no idea where to store all of our water and we are still in a drought. Seattle gets rain damn near daily and it suits them fine. But rain in a relationship–are we supposed to ALWAYS BE RIGHT THERE? Hmm. Thoughts?

Love, Honor, Obey, and Bullshit

Do you REALLY promise? Say yes.

Do you REALLY promise? Say yes.

After watching this week’s RHOA (Real Housewives of Atlanta), I couldn’t help but become deeply enraged with fury. For real! So y’all know I had to unleash it on the MacBook, right? Here goes…

First of all, I admire and respect the lovely Ms. Porsha Stewart. I see a lot of class in her, but I also see a small bit of insecurity. This week, the Housewives were upset with her decision to not go to the Vegas strip club with them. Porsha’s first reason was that Kordell wouldn’t be happy if he had known she was there; her excuse quickly became “I just don’t feel comfortable” in a matter of minutes (or so the segment suggests).

What’s the real reason? We may never know. Here’s the bottom line: Porsha wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her and Kordell’s marriage. Whether he is/isn’t okay with her going to see strippers is a totally different subject. But let’s explore the allegations of him being controlling. The ever-so-fabulous NeNe Leakes was QUICK to lead this group of ducklings in bashing Kordell. Porsha would be a fool to listen to NeNe in that aspect!

In my opinion, like breeds like. And if Porsha ends up ‘like’ NeNe by following her (unsolicited) advice, she’s gonna be unhappy and unmarried. None of the Housewives have grounds to say A-N-Ything about what Porsha should or shouldn’t do in her marriage. I will go out on a limb and say that there are only two legally-binding names on the certificate of Mr. and Mrs. Kordell Stewart’s marriage. See where I’m going with this?

Let’s not forget the basics here, though. Kordell is an ex-NFL player with money. Porsha brings a little bit of cheese to the table as well with her family’s foundation. Do they complement each other? Yes. Should she love, honor, and obey her husband’s wishes? By all means. Can this girl stand on her own without Kordell? Umm…probably not!!! However, I stand firmly in supporting his traditional relationship views.

If your man (as the head of the household, not just some long-term boyfriend) requests you to be at home with dinner waiting once he arrives in the evening, do that. If he says keep the housekeepers in check, do that. If he says it’s time to lay up and pop out all of my children tomorrow, as long as he’s the breadwinner do that. What’s the big deal? Porsha knows her place and I’m sure Kordell is content with it. Can we say the same about Greg, Peter, Apollo, Todd, or even Walter? Un-fucking-likely. Hell no.

I’m going to leave you with this thought—relationships are about communication, compromise, and contingency. As long as each person assumes their role, then less conflict arrises. When dealing with men, we as women must must must must must learn to take down our defenses if we wish to nurture healthy partnerships that lead to marriage. Remember this post??? Now shut up and go make love!

Rhonda’s Favorite Things 2012

Everybody gets a car!!!!!!

Everybody gets a car!!!!!!

I’m Oprah, bi-yatch!

Ok, no I’m not Big O. But the idea is pretty damn awesome, gotta admit. So in an attempt to be cool and famous, I’ve glued myself to Oprah Winfrey Network in efforts to gain my chance at winning something. Anything.

Needless to say, that isn’t going so well for me. So…in yet another attempt to be cool and famous, I’m listing my favorite things just like she did! But, I won’t be giving out anything to you mofos, though, except a few random gifts to my family members. I just want you guys to get inside my head a little bit. Anyhooo–let’s get started!

1) MacBook Pro (and basically anything from Apple). The people who create these devices are either greedy geniuses or evil antichrists. Take your pick. Either way, this is the best thing I’ve spent my money on all year. It has something like 500GB of storage space so I have plenty of room to store my awesome music collection and natural hair pictures. I could go on. Basically if you don’t have one, then you’re losing. If you already own a Mac, then you’re going to hell with me for supporting this giant antichrist. #winning

apple-macbook-pro

2) Aeropostale sweats. I don’t know if they are made from butter-enhanced wool and cotton, but they sure feel like it. It is by far the most comfortable sweatsuit I’ve ever owned. Did I wear these all through high school and college when they were “in?” No. Don’t judge me, I running a little late for everything. But on the days where I want a little less booty jiggle visibility (i.e. while wearing velour sweatsuits), these are the remedy. And I caught them on sale during Black Friday.

Aero Sweats

3) Ta Boom Brazilian Food Truck’s Straganoff Burrito. Yes you read that correctly. One sweet day in LA, I had a super empty stomach. I craved something filling, like Mexican food, but who really WANTS Mexican? Exactly. This food truck pulled up to our office and a smile hit my face. Not only was I offered a full serving of Chicken Straganoff, but they would roll it into a burrito along with rice. You know what that’s called? #winning

burrito

4) Four Seasons Resort Maui. THE definition of luxurious vacation. Was I on vacay? No. I was working. But that doesn’t discredit this place’s magnificent views, superb restaurants, and hardworking concierge service. All rooms feature satellite radio built into the wall of the bathroom (which was basically built for *cough, cough* honeymoon sex…) and a terrycloth robe. I didn’t want to leave the room except to lay by the pool and be served margaritas.

FSMaui

5) Jordan Retro #9 My first pair. This means I’m no longer a Jordan-virgin and now I’m addicted. My collection is building rather nicely. More to come, so stay tuned.

jordan 9

6) American Apparel leggings. I got my first pair in 2008 and they still fit the same. This calls for a celebration, and by that I mean purchasing more leggings. For my ladies out there who know how difficult it is to find a good pair that isn’t too tight on the waist, doesn’t show through to your panties, and has a decent amount of Spandex to hold you in…I’ve found the solution. Look no further! And at $15 a pair & every color ever, feel free to splurge a little. I have black, grey, teal, purple, and red.

american apparel leggings

7) MAC Studio Fix Powder. I’m not really big on makeup, bur for special occasions, I do dab a little in painting my face. And I’ve gotten pretty decent at doing so. My absolute go-to is this powder. Why? Because it can be used on a clean face, versus on top of foundation and still get the job done. Plus, after just a few swipes, I achieve the look I need without feeling clownish. For better coverage and blending, use a kabuki brush (not the sponge applicator which makes it look caked on).

mac studio fix

macface

8) Delta Airlines ginger cookies by Biscoff. Simply a little taste of heaven. That’s it.

deltacookies

9) EDEN Bodyworks Temple Balm. Got an itchy scalp? Thinning edges? Looking for a light pomeade? Well this product does all of it. Doesn’t contain mineral oil or other heavy products that cause build up on the scalp. And it leaves you with a tingling sensation from a key ingredient: peppermint oil. Try it out, let me know what you think.

templebalmsm

Why MJ Always Wore White Socks

Shuhh-mon outta that bathroom!

When I was younger, I would spend the weekend at my aunt’s house to play with my cousin. And just like every black family, we all went to church together on Sunday morning.

These were the days your 5-minute-shower skills got tested.

One morning, my cousin was being particularly mischievous. He was toying with his food at breakfast, still had Legos scattered across his room from yesterday, and was cutting into the next person’s “turn” for the bathroom. He’d already been in there ten minutes and the shower was not yet running However, he was incessantly killing singing the chorus to Kirk Franklin’s “Silver and Gold,” which insinuated foot-dragging.

*Auntie bangs on the bathroom door*

“Boy? You better be almost done, Dad needs to get in there! Now you got five minutes. And I mean FIVE!!”

Faintly, I could hear the water from the bathroom sink start to flow as I listened from the kitchen. I sat in a chair battling a lint ball on my crisp white tights (for the average 7-year old girl, this conflict ends in a hole). In the corner, Auntie stroked the iron across my cousin’s button-up shirt. It was children’s choir Sunday.

Not even three minutes had passed before the bathroom door swung open. My cousin rushed past us in the kitchen while holding a ball of dirty clothes to cover his privates. Auntie put the iron away then grabbed a nearby switch off the counter (note: for my readers who aren’t old school, this is a switch–skip to 4:07). She follows behind my cousin toward his room waving the switch in the air, “Now what did I tell you to do?”

Cousin innocently looks up at Auntie and shrugs, “What?”

She points the switch at him with each word. “I said get in that bathroom and take care of your business! It don’t take that long! And did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?!”

“Yes ma’am, I did.”

Auntie grabs the starched shirt off the ironing board.  She slathers Vaseline on his scrawny legs then drapes an undershirt over his frail shoulders.

“AND DID YOU CHANGE YOUR SHORTS??!!”

“Yes ma’am, I did.”

My ears perked. I knew Auntie could tell that there was not a single drop of water on his back, thus insinuating he didn’t even get in the shower. I had no idea what “shorts” she was referring to, but I knew my cousin was in big trouble.

Fast forward to this day in 2012. I just finished watching Spike Lee’s “Bad 25” on ABC. In just about every clip/picture/scene/flashback, Michael Jackson is wearing his famous penny loafers with clean white socks. Neither the shoes nor the socks bother me; I’m stuck at the flooding pants. It’s so obvious that all of his trousers were tailored two inches above his ankles (did that become a fad? I don’t recall).

Well since I haven’t heard any sort interview (ever) to explain why MJ made this his trademark, I’ve come to this conclusion: long ago, little Michael was procrastinating in the bathroom on a Sunday morning. Katherine went in his room to scold him. She glanced down at his dingy socks and shrieks, “DID YOU CHANGE YOUR SOCKS??!!” He timidly replied, “Yes ma’am, I did.”

She says, “No you didn’t, or they would be sparklin’ white.” Little Michael tried to plead his case, but just wasn’t winning (he mistakenly grabbed Randy’s socks instead of his own). And since that day, he reassured Katherine daily that he did change socks by making sure she could see them. And they were indeed sparklin’ white.

May you rest in Heaven—

Michael Jackson

Julius K. Moore

No Sex In The City

There it was across the room on the floor in a brown, unmarked package. The box was large enough to fit a pair of pumps, but I had received all seven of my shoe shipments already. I scattered my dresser for a pair of scissors. I snatched the box open. And behold: my complete DVD collection of Sex and the City I had patiently (anxiously) awaited coming home to for several weeks.

Like many women, I’ve seen only snippets of a single season of the show, but never really got the chance to watch it all. And the DVD set is a bit pricey unless you’re a true fan willing to spend the dough. But thanks to Groupon, I now own it plus the two movies.

So far, I’m done with the first three seasons, and boy! I had no idea the show was this…terrible.

Let’s go back. The show is skillfully and creatively put together in a way that depicts typical, modern white women.  Although it’s set in NY, I choose to believe chicks all across the USA share similar traits. So why am I disappointed? Because most of it is a HUGE LIE! I’ll break down the characters–

1) Charlotte – whore. very conservative. also rather conservative in the bedroom because she doesn’t give head and detests kinkiness in general. judges Samantha for being an overt whore, though. has a glamorized view of marriage and yearns for her fairytale fantasy. also pretty judgmental overall.

2) Miranda – whore. stiff and rude. usually horny at times when she either can’t find a man or has run a decent one away. settles easily because she isn’t pretty. stereotypical ‘successful woman with high standards and a domestic feline’. would probably lead a feminist movement in support of Madonna’s comeback.

3) Samantha – whore. open to her sexuality and doesn’t hide her urges. often has cheesy lines in the script because she’s wealthy and shouldn’t appear wiser than Carrie although she is. complete MTLF (…replace the “I” in MILF with “they”…) who sees what she wants and goes for it. if she were black, she’d be Karrine Steffans.

4) Carrie – whore. shallow, but smart. symbolizes the “every woman” archetype in that she keeps running back to the man who hurt her, while believing things between them will change. tries to change men. supposedly the lead character (or villain depending on how you look at her) in that her battles with men are the largest. true homewrecker.

Why would the writers of this show perpetuate such formulas women in only four distinct categories? Why would they lie to us, presenting these exaggerated characters with extremely distorted views of men? Why did Carrie marry Big in the first movie (if she did this in, say, season 5 no one would’ve watched the rest)? Why the hell does Charlotte land two seemingly perfect guys? It seems our lofty leaders of Hollywood stringed us along folks. And we like it.

In my opinion, Miranda and Samantha are most realistic. I have no words for how much I despise Carrie (except for “Aiden should have spit in your face at the wedding”) and Charlotte is too Disney to be in her 30s. A mess this is.

Nevertheless, I can’t wait for Blair Underwood’s character to meet Miranda and knock her boots later in the show. I mean—that’s just good TV, who wouldn’t be excited?

Why We Need Awards Shows on BET

Alright, so, if you were bored at some point in the past few days, you probably caught a glimpse of the 2012 BET Awards. Or if you’re on Twitter, the posts clouded your homepage. And Facebook. And basically all of the social media you subscribe to. Anyhoo–year after year, I’m disappointed by the pure ratchetness that is BET and all that it stands for. But it in all fairness, we need things like Hip Hop Honors, Soul Train Awards, Essence Awards, NAACP Awards…you get the point…for our culture to thrive. How so, you ask?

1) New artists/rappers/randoms would go un-noticed: Be honest~did you know who Meek Mill was before his alleged involvement in the Drake & Chris Brown brawl? Right. He graced (I use the term lightly due to his baggy jeans) the red carpet, was nominated in the Best New Artist category, and basically coasted through the whole show without us giving a f–k. But thanks to BET, we all know who he is. Now he can continue to make music songs. Oh, and also the female rappers besides Nicki & Trina can get a shout out in their category. 

2) Tributes to those who’ve passed: Is it me or has 2012 brought some of the most tragic deaths at one time? Leave it to BET to pay these Afro-Americans some sort of respect (that tribute they did to MJ at the Awards was a joke, so it doesn’t count) that other networks probably wouldn’t do. 

3) Tributes to mf–rs who we forgot existed: Ok, so duh, Al Sharpton & Frankie Beverly ft. Maze are some of the “baddest mf–rs of all time,” and we would never truly forget them. But come on, is 2012 really the year they need an honor? I just went to an event in Hollywood a few years ago & guess who we  paid tribute to? Frankie Beverly ft. Maze. And since Rodney King, Sean Bell, and Trayvon Martin happened, we all know Al Sharpton is the voice of Blacks. You get the point.

4) So Chris Brown can continue to redeem himself: I don’t know why, but BET just loves to show how wonderfully talented, great, etc. CB is. He “showed out” at their [weak] MJ tribute, he’s the premiere episode on ‘Defining Moments’, blah blah blah. BET is the god of second chances. CB is on #6 at least.

5) For praises to Jesus: Nobody is more faithful to God that Black people. That’s the only explanation for the several Black churches throughout urban America. And no other deity (except Tyler Perry or Jay-Z) gets shout-outs like Jesus. So we have to thank BET for keeping us grounded in what matters, like a Yolanda Adams performance following Rick Ross’ spectacle. 

Those are my thoughts, peeps. What did you think of the BET ’12 Awards?

 

Lollipop Music

When I was little, we would have huge family/friends’ gatherings in our backyard. Truth is it wasn’t a ‘real’ backyard, but rather an extensive lot where a neighbor’s house used to be (this happened waaayyy before my time, like the 60’s. By the early 90’s it was just a huge field of grass). To add to these parties, Grand-daddy got a volleyball net and loads of sand (as a kid, I swore the beach was like 20 minutes away when I saw all that sand!) right next to the house. Then my Granny installed a patio and put like 5 picnic tables and chairs plus a BBQ barrell on it. Finally, Grand-daddy got a 10-foot pool for us kids. And the games began. On top of this, there was a corner store directly across the street; proves our house was the The Spot.

And we all know that no party is complete without music, right? So he would put the stereo speakers—the BIG ones—in two of the windows facing this lot. Voila. Backyard boogie-oogie-oogie. I can recall his selection of songs from Marvin Gaye and Betty Wright to Salt-n-Pepa and MC Hammer. Man, these were the days.

Now as a grown-up, when I hear these songs on the radio or where ever, I have vivid flashbacks of all these great family moments. Fast forward to a few days ago and I’m driving around in Burbank. Drake’s “Practicing” comes on, and my first memory was of the back-that-ass-up times I had dancing to Juvenile at middle school dances. My, how things haven’t changed.

Before I dive in and basically roast every song on Billboard’s top 100 hip-hop chart, let me show some gratitude. I LOVE ratchet ass hood music. I live for it. I swear I was the second person (next to the guy I got it from) with Young Jeezy’s Thug Motivation leaked album. I get excited when I hear Gucci Mane is performing in my city. Yo Gotti will always take my listening preference over Maroon 5. Anything T.I. does in the studio sounds spectacular. Three-6-Mafia deserved that Oscar. Wacka Flocka and Roscoe Dash make sure I have a “good night.” And 2 Chainz will remain Tity Boi anytime I refer to him. “Do you love this shit?”

But I’m afraid none of that music will actually mean anything, say, 20 years from now. Well yes, President Obama made a slick Young Jeezy reference that gained a bunch of attention, but I come on; how many people at that dinner even know who Jeezy is? Exactly.

And what the hell is a thun thun thun, and why shouldn’t I drop it, FiNaTTicZ? I’m so disappointed.

When Lil Wayne came out with “Lollipop,” I got excited. This is something I can dance to in the club, crank in the car, and no one will judge me *insert ‘girl please’ side eye*. But by listening to the words, I’ve concluded that it was some pretty basic shit. Elementary. Is this the future of rap? Or is it just popular rap? In either case, folks, we’re all doomed. We’re also doomed because Bow Wow is signed to YMCMB, Twista hasn’t dropped an album in forever, Tyga is invited to sweet 16 birthday bashes, and Kanye is backing Big Sean.

Since I’m not a big fan of east coast or west coast hip-hop artists, I lean on midwest and southern rappers to give me my fix. And I guess I’m happy. But if I had a lot next to my house and 4-foot tall speakers to put in the windows, I most definitely wouldn’t be crankin’ that Soulja Boy or looking for a ‘Supafreak’. I’ll just wobble wobble and drop it like it’s hot (AND bring it back up) when no one’s looking…or maybe in the middle of the dance floor on a nice day.

*turns up the volume on Boyz N Da Hood’s “Dem Boyz”*

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