Sunday, February 27, 2011

I'm Fancy, Huh?

I got an award! **slides down the pole, lands in chinese splits, dougies with Tagalongs & Samoas, throws pink confetti, then taps the mic and begins acceptance speech. I'd like to thank God, my Mama...** 

The Stylish Blogger award was bestowed upon me by Yves, the authoress. Of course there are strings attached. I have to reveal seven random facts about myself and recommend a list of bloggers that I feel are worthy of this award. What an honor! So here it goes...

Random Facts about L. Marie
1. I've had migraines since the tender age of four, and have taken medication to prevent migraines since the age of eleven. I really don't know life without the pain of a headache. Pretty sad, huh?
2. I'm an unhealthy eater. Every meal includes additives like salt, butter, black pepper, gravy, sauce, etc. Every meal ends with a dessert too. I know my eating habits have to improve, but I'm not ready for such a drastic lifestyle change.
3. There are random moments that I miss Corporate America. Well, it's the steady, hefty paycheck that I miss. It's been almost 2.5 years since leaving and I still haven't fully adjusted. Although, my stress level has significantly decreased and my happy level is high.
4. Whenever my gas tank is near empty, I turn off the radio and heat/air conditioning. There is no logic behind it, but somehow I feel it helps to preserve gas.
5. I'm a mean girl. In about 50 more years, I'll be that old bitty sitting on the front porch sitting sweet tea talking about my neighbors fuckery.
6. I recently started tracing my ancestry and haven't found any Africans yet. So far, my roots are Irish. I've lived my entire life as a Black American. Depending on the ancestry results, it may just be self-proclaimed.
7. I'm a really private person. Only close friends and family know selective details about my everyday life. So this blogmoir is quite a challenge.

Other Fancy Bloggers Worthy of Award:
1. Dame
2. Eclectik
3. Kim
4. Steph
5. Spinks
6. Cande
7. Diva V
8. Brooks
9. Marq

Monday, February 21, 2011

My President Is Black (Remix) ~ Jay-Z

(Sing along in honor of Presidents' Day)

My President is black
In fact he's half white
So even in a racist mind
He's half right
If you have a racist mind
You be aight
My President is black
But his house is all white
Rosa Parks sat so Martin Luther could walk
Martin Luther walked so Barack Obama could run
Barack Obama ran so all the children could fly
So I'ma spread my wings 
You can meet me in the sky 

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Want You To See All of the Lights

I previously mentioned in a random rant that music is everything. I've been patiently waiting for the official video to All of the Lights by Kanye West featuring fitty lem artists (Rihanna, Sir Elton John, Kid Cudi, John Legend, Tony Williams, Alicia Keys, La Roux's Elly Jackson, The Dream, Ryan Leslie, Alvin Fields, Fergie, Charlie Wilson, and Ken Lewis). The video is directed by Hype Williams. Um, it just has a lot of lights. I'm also annoyed that Fergie's vocal part is eliminated. Either the budget was low, or this is another of Kanye's artistic moments that went over my head. Or maybe he simply wanted us to see all of the lights, like the song says. Check it out below and share your two cents.

Still crossing my fingers for a live Grammy performance in 2012 with less lights, but ALL of the artists. It really is the best collaboration to date.

Sh!t My Mama Do ~ Ch. 2

Of the many talents that my Mama is blessed with, dream interpretation is the most beneficial. Yes, she has the gift to interpret dreams. She doesn't use reference books either. The meaning of a dream and its corresponding numeric definition is all stored in her brain. What is the corresponding numeric definition, you ask? Basically, the 3- or 4-digit lottery number. You may be confused so let me break it down.

The average person has 3-5 dreams per night. The person may or may not remember them upon waking up. For those of us who do remember the dream, it leaves us wondering what it means. This is where Chickadee comes in. Simply tell her your dream and she will interpret it. She then translates it into a lottery number. It is up to the dreamer whether or not to play it. 

This, dolls and gents, is a gift. For Chickadee, she is "just looking for that number." For others, it gives insight to what a dream means and possibly a small fortune. I personally don't remember my dreams every night. For the dreams that do stand out, I ask her to interpret and then play it in the lottery. About 90% of my dreams fall in the lottery and its interpretation happens in real life, so best believe I take advantage. The sh!t my mama do pays!

Now excuse me while I go play midday.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Random Rant ~ Ch. 2

I want that Rocky & Adrian / Jay & Bey / Obama & Michelle type of love.

I don't contribute to the never-ending, forever collecting, church "building fund." I've exchanged my choir robe for a leopard snuggie. Judge me if you want, but Bedside Baptist fits my needs. The Lord knows my heart.

There are 6 seasons: Winter, Girl Scout Cookies, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Bey Season.

Just because a show is "black" doesn't mean I have to support it. I therefore blame Black Twitter for hyping me up on return of The Game. This season sucks.

Music is everything. There is always a song to fit my current mood.

Blow The Whistle by Too Short is still my party anthem. WHAT'S MY FAVORITE WORD?!

Jay-Z could stand still as a mannequin on a stage. If all he says is, "Uh huh uh uh" or even takes a small breath of air, I'll believe it was the best performance ever. /\ 

There's actually someone I stan for harder than S. Carter.

Once, I took an extremely long nap. Frantically looked outside and it was dark. I thought the world had ended. My first thought was about food. It concerns me I didn't drop to my knees and pray for salvation. 

I the kitchen. Many nights, I wake up with clenched fists holding bits of food, or crumbs on my pillow.

Pepsi is my liquid crack. I literally have a panic attack if I run out.

I'm giving up makeup/beauty purchases and Pepsi for Lent (March 9-April 17). Sweet baby Jesus, be my strength.

Mentally, I reside in the UK. I'm working on the physical part.

I'm a celebrity in my own mind.

Free Sweetie.

Close family & friends know that I'm a mean girl.

The sooner I approach XXX, I see signs of getting old. For example, I've started talking extra loud on long distance calls.

Can I count sold eggs as a dependent?

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Welcome XXX With Open Arms

In exactly seven months, I will be 10,950 days old. EEK!

Our society portrays 30 years old as either "the end of something great" or "the beginning of something bad." Most of the things that people want to accomplish by the age of 30, I've already done. Two college degrees, homeowner, traveled the world, entrepreneur and more. **toot toot** So below is a revised list of things I want to do before the big day.

  • Complete manuscripts.
  • Finish postgraduate certificate.
  • Research the UK in length.
  • Quit cursing as much.
  • Have fat transfer surgery.
  • Sell eggs.
  • Consider trying another blind date.
  • Have a full shopping my closet.
  • Create a timetable for my future.
  • Become half a millionaire.
  • Sky dive or bungee jump.
  • Measure success on a personal, not societal level.
  • Live, laugh, and love in the moment.
  • Pay attention to life as it occurs.
  • Minimize pointless drama.
  • Be a better me.
  • Plan and send invites to XXX Bash.

My list is realistic, but what's the rush? If I was to reach all my goals by 30, then there would be nothing to look forward to. A woman's life expectancy is 80 years old, so I have at least 50 more years to accomplish success. POW! So instead of dreading my next birthday, I welcome it with open arms.

For the book review of 30 Isn't Old, visit my other blog Precision Reviews. 

Monday, February 14, 2011

Cause I Love You

In honor of this ♡ holiday, I'm paying tribute to my fave 3 couples.  

Rocky & Adrian

President Barack Obama & First Lady Michelle Obama

Jay-Z & Beyonce (Jayonce)

I want their kind of love. Happy Valentine's Day, dolls & gents!

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Girls, Girls, Girls

There are five seasons: Winter, Girl Scout Cookies, Spring, Summer & Fall. 

I had a brief stint as a Boy Scout, so I still support the scouts whenever possible. Yes, I meant Boy. That was no typo. My bestie's dad was a Troop Leader. The Boy Scouts always had the best camping trips. So one year, he agreed to take us. We snuck on camping grounds in baseball hats and loose fitting clothes. The dilemma was swimwear. Our disguises didn't last long and we were found out. But oh, did we have fun! So, purchasing Girl Scout cookies every season is my way of showing appreciation. Help support & buy a box.

Ain't No Feeling Like Being Free

Yesterday, I went to an Underground Railroad tour. Underground Railroad was the term used to describe a network of abolitionists, fugitive slaves, and people who helped escaped slaves on their way to freedom in the North. It began in the 1830's and continued for years.

The tour was the most humbling experience. Upon entry, we were given wrist bands labeled "SLAVE." Then we were seated and watched a video from the History channel (watch excerpts here). Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass, and Uncle Tom's Cabin were featured. I already learned and remembered most of the facts from elementary/middle school. Every February, we celebrated Black History Month with a game called Bates Battle. We'd earn Bates Bucks and get to purchase items. 

In the middle of the video, our group of seven was silently ushered away to begin our journey. Our group of slaves were escaping a plantation in Louisiana and heading North to Midnight (Detroit). We could only travel up to six miles in the still of the night. Our journey took an entire year. Imagine walking in fear for approximately 365 miles. Wow...our ancestors were strong and determined. We learned some of the signals used. For example, a lit lantern meant the safehouse was a stop on the Underground Railroad. It was safe to knock, enter, rest and eat. An inward turned boot on the lawn of a hotel meant that it was okay to check in. If it was turned outward, bounty hunters and slave-catchers were in the hotel so it wasn't safe to lay our heads there. There were no GPS systems or Mapquest back then. All we had was the North Star and green moss on trees to guide us North. Our conductor was very careful, for our safety was in his hands. We didn't lose any packages (escaped slaves) along the way. 

Afterward, we had a roundtable discussion with a minister and others participants of the tour. We had the opportunity to share our feelings, knowledge, and learned more history. Again, it was a very humbling experience. There were times that I almost cried at the thought of slavery. I wondered would I be brave enough to escape to freedom? Would I be as strong as my ancestors? Would I risk my own life to lead others to freedom? I'd like to think that I would be a leader and a writer for The North Star, a newspaper created by Frederick Douglass.

Ain't no feeling like being free. Ain't no feeling like being brown. I wouldn't be any other race. Happy Celebrating Black History Month!

Friday, February 11, 2011

Dear Week, 

I'm so over you. I'm leaving you for your best friend, Weekend. Don't try to find us for at least 2 days. 

Love (not really), 

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

So Appalled

"If you don't have children, you serve no purpose in life."

How should I begin this? I'm just so offended. This ignorant statement was said to me during a conversation today. A dude looked me straight in the eye and said I have no purpose in life. In his eyes, I am basically worthless because I don't have children.

You're probably wondering what my reaction was. Well, I wear heels 98% of the time. But today, sweet baby Jesus was looking out for dude because I happened to be wearing flats. Had I been wearing a stiletto, my foot would have swiftly kicked him down below. As he's crouched over in pain, I'd tell him that a man serves no purpose in life without balls. POW! 

Instead, I remained calm & responded with my two cents. Procreation is NOT a woman's only purpose. Some women just aren't meant to be mothers, and we don't have to be. This is 2011. Roe vs. Wade made abortion legal in 1973. Adoption is legal, and some countries allow international adoption programs. Women have choices now. So to be an asshat and believe our sole purpose is childbirth is fuckin' ridiculous! **in my best RZA voice**

Success is not measured by how many children you bore. I know plenty of women that are not mothers and are very successful. Look at Oprah. Look at Jennifer Aniston. Look at me! And what about the women who are medically unable to conceive? They are worthless too? Boy BYE...have a seat.

After ranting online, I was more appalled to see that dude isn't alone in his views. There are even women who believe our reason for existing is to produce offspring. Nevertheless, everyone is entitled to a belief. Thanks to all my dolls & gents that co-signed me. For those that agree with dude's statement, (•͡. •͡┌П┐. Logout of life.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Imported From Detroit

For those of you who missed the best Super Bowl XLV commercial, check it out below. It requires no commentary or explanation on my behalf. The best is simply imported from Detroit.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Random Rant

I still dance really hard whenever I hear Usher's OMG.

When I get a little money, I buy books and food. If any is left, I pay bills.

A crumb-snatcher stepped on my JC boots. My accessories are not child proof.

As many baby showers/bridal showers/kid birthday parties as I attend, the gesture better be reciprocated when it comes my turn.

Retail therapy keeps me sane.

It is February 6th. Stop saying, "Happy New Year."

Americans are full of fuckery. Hence the reason I'm a Londoner in my head.

I hate tax season. Single people with no children are punished, not rewarded, at this time.

I have the old Negro spiritual "Let My People Go" stuck in my head. My subconscious knows it is Black History Month.

I belong to Bedside Baptist.

Be safe, my beweavable ladies. I don't want to see tracks stuck on ice if you fall.

Anderson Cooper needs to have a seat...on a plane back to USA.

Thanks to CNN, I witnessed a camel-jacking in Egypt.

Social networks make it easier for liars and life exaggerators.

Yesterday, I went to the childless chick's nightmare: Chuck E. Cheese. Afterward, I had a drink...and a birth control pill.