Archives for category: Uncategorized

Like. A lot a lot. Because I’ve lived a lot of places.

Random stuff, like:
Coconut Bras
Shot glasses
The world’s largest wrench. (Don’t ask)
A toboggan (This was the most fun I ever had with my clothes on. Not lying*)

But some of my favorite stuff is stuff that my mommy gives. It’s important! And OLD! And HISTORY!

Poll Tax

*Teacher Briya voice*
(I’m kidding. I don’t have a teacher voice)
(Only a *I’M NOT PLAYING WITH YOU, YOU ARE ABOUT TO GET THE BUSINESS*voice)
*pushes up glasses*

This here is a receipt for a poll tax.
Poll Taxes were used as a way to keep black folks from voting. Along with bullshit laws like grandfather clauses, literacy tests and intimidation (No, people still aren’t trying to scare people away from the polls, why do you ask?).

SO. This ISN’T a BHFOTD. This is just a copy of a poll tax receipt used so that this person, who is most probably black, whom I may or MAY NOT (mommy WTF did you get this from?) be related to was like HA MOTHERFUCKER, I WILL PAY YOUR FUNKYASS POLL TAX SO THAT I CAN VOTE.

WHY THIS IS IMPORTANT: Because today is National Voter Registration Day!
With all the random fuckery happening these days all over the country,the best way to express your displeasure with the current events is to VOTE. Vote because not even 100 years ago, this right was denied to A LOT OF FUCKING PEOPLE.

Vote people in who care, Vote out people who don’t.
You care about an issue? VOTE.

The best way to tell the people in charge FUCK YOU AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON
Is to stick it in a ballot box.

Okay. That’s today’s not BHFOTD. I’m hopping down off my soap box. See you the next time I decide to post random ramblings about whatever I randomly ramble about!
*I love all of the music guys. And since I write the facts, I pick the music. And there’s (almost) ALWAYS music, and you know why.

I went to BlogHer this year. It was a last minute decision, so sorry if I gave some of y’all heart attacks by being where I didn’t say I’d be. Usually I go for the parties, and to stalk my favorite bloggers who I don’t get to see regularly because they don’t live in SoCal. This time I went for something else. BUT WHILE I WAS THERE (I stalked up a few faves, went to a few parties and ALSO), I dropped in on a few panels. One of which was  The Girlfriends’ Guide to California Politics that was being hosted by the California Women Lead organization. While I’m not usually “politically minded” (y’all read my blog, right?), I was interested. Even more so when I realized that women are severely lacking in leadership roles in California. One of the more disturbing facts that were presented was that of the 296 seats County Boards of Supervisors in CA, 68 are women. Many counties have 0.

 THIS IS AN IMPORTANT LESSON ABOUT REPRESENTATION GUYS.

 We need to get involved. We need to be interested, and active in issues that affect us. Our homes, our healthcare, our bodies.

And if you don’t think it matters…Lemme tell y’all a little something I learned about….Ducks.

In early July, I went to Vegas with some friends. One of them is getting married! That isn’t why I was in Vegas, it was just a happy coincidence that she told us she’s plannin’ to get hitched. And in the way that women do, we asked lots of questions. One of them had to do with the living situation, which, he hasn’t completely moved in because he has ducks. And I think chickens? Maybe she owns the chickens? I’m not sure because I was drunk and in Vegas drinking out of straw shaped like a penis. ANYWAYS. The point of this story is that the chickens (whoever owns them) need protecting from the ducks. BECAUSE APPARENTLY DUCKS ARE RAPISTS.

 No. I’m not exaggerating. She told me a horrifying story of ducks raping chickens, ducks raping other ducks, and corkscrew penises. And then I did some research! Because WHUT? That can’t really be a thing. But it is, Blanche, it is. But NEVER FEAR. Apparently female ducks* are constantly evolving ways to not get pregnant from forced sex. Female ducks have the vaginal equivalent of false passages and dead ends.

 Sidenote: I bet in a million years you never thought you would be learning about duck sex (forced or otherwise) on my blog. You’re welcome.

HOW DO THESE TWO THINGS EVEN CONNECT?! WELL. There are 20% or less women in Elected Office. Maybe if we got more involved in politics, more involved in seeking public offices, ignorant mother fuckers wouldn’t be trying to convince people that we are not in fact human ladies, but lady DUCKS. (See what I did there? There’s always a point guys, sometimes you just gotta look for them)

 

**As it turns out Female PEOPLE also have ways of preventing pregnancy (forced or otherwise): birth control and emergency contraceptives, but if there’s no one representing women and what’s important to us, how much longer will we have them?

I like our neighbors a lot. They’re nice people. They are the son and daughter-in-law of the man who has owned that house since I was 5 years old or so. I know that because that’s about how old I was when I moved into the house next door. Which is coincidentally the house that I currently live in. 

They moved in a few years ago. It took some time to get used to them. Because the neighbor who lived there prior to them had been living there for 20ish years.  She had an asthma attack, and didn’t have enough time to call 911. It was pretty terrible, I have to say. But that’s all I’m gonna say, because that’s not what this story is about really. And also talking about it still makes me cry. 

So back to what I was saying. Our neighbors have kids. Really adorable ones. The daughter is 3. She’s very shy. Sorta. If I happen to be outside when she is, she’ll only say hello from behind her mama’s legs. But if I’m outside and she’s inside, she’ll talk my ear off from the window. She knows my name, wants to know what I’m doin’…she asks about Nesto because my husband is some kinda baby magnet. Which is kinda hilarious, because people are always telling me he’s intimidating. I guess they’ve never seen him in his kangaroo outfit. 

The baby just had his 1st birthday. He’s a BIG BOY. And is definitely the more outgoing of the two of them. The other day when I got home from work, they were all outside. The baby girl waved at me safely from the porch. The boy crawled over and pulled up some grass to give me. And I have to say, I fell in love with him a little bit. He’s so sweet, in the way that babies are. Friendly and happy and one of those babies that are willing to let you pick them up and snuggle because BABY.

Fun fact! This baby was born in that house. His mom had that (9 lb something oz) baby at home in the bathroom because she didn’t have time to get to the hospital. In fact, by the time the ambulance arrived, she was already holding a baby.

I like to tell this story. I will probably always remember this story about these neighbors and that house. It makes me happy to know that a birth happened in that house. I feel like it was a reset button. A death, and then a birth.

I know. I’m not generally all in my feelings. But apparently it was a story I wanted/needed/decided to tell.Life goes on. Even when you don’t think it will, or think it can’t, it does.

Maybe I needed a reminder. Maybe *you* do. Here it is! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Restaurant: fiftyseven (Another soft opening: that’s what HE said)

Food: Fancy, and tiny. They served briya-sized portions.

Me: Fettuccine & lamb. (LAMB! I ate Mary’s friend! And it was not awful!)
I would also like to say that I chose it because it was the least scary thing on the menu.

Nesto: Bratwurst with salsa (?) and pretzel w/mustard (Everything was made in house!)
Everything was pretty good. Didn’t even need extra seasoning (which is good ‘cause there was no salt or pepper on ANY table)
ALSO: They had a pre fixe menu. NO.

People: Hipsters. We actually sat next to a lady wearing all black and a beret. Lived in a loft in the (very sketchy) area.
Gentrification! It’s coming for ALL of LA!

Other stuff: They had a singer downstairs in the club area of this place. She was good from what we could hear while we were eating.
Went downstairs and Mr CrazyPants decided there were too many people for him to remain there.
Something something…Rhode Island Fire (fun fact: I lived in Boston when this happened)

7/10 would recommend. Because menu was only pre fixe or appetizers. And there needed to be an plainer option for people who are not food adventurous

There are wonderful things about living in a house with no kids after living in a house with kids your whole married life.
Most of those things include sex. (Sorry, guys. I’m not sorry)
But they also include things like eating cheese and crackers in bed. Which I do. A lot.
Which I also bitched out both of my kids for doing.
And also having ice cream for breakfast.
Because you’re at war with your husband because FUCK YOU, I don’t always feel like cooking.
Or yannow. Not cooking. Because FUCK THIS, that’s why.

But here’s the thing:
It’s hard to cook for 2 people when you’re used to cooking for 4.
Going out to eat is expensive.
(Related: Did y’all know I have a kid in college? She is also expensive. At least paying for her is not gonna make me gain weight)
(which going out to eat is doing because WTF would I go out and order a salad? Also: I hate lettuce. I don’t care if that sounds weird to you)

Anyways. Recently, I told The Man that we’re gonna eat better.
(and that he’s gonna workout with me. But that’s another story)
AND AS IT HAPPENS, I did this fancy Freasy walk through.
It’s FreshER! And Easy-ER(easier, guys. EASI-ER. *cough*)

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So I gotta tell y’all. I was impressed.
I like convenience. If I have to eat and/or cook for other people, I prefer not having to do too much work.
Otherwise, back to cheese and crackers.
Healthy food! Snacks! Food for two!
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I pack lunches.
And two snacks. Because I’m at work a long fucking time.
And I don’t eat a lot but I do eat often.
So it’s good they have options for snacking.
Fruit, meaty cheesy snacks. And deez nuts.
(for your mouth. Not mine. Because I also hate nuts)
(also that’s A LOT OF NUTS)
(that’s what she said)

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They even have breakfast things now.
Which is fantastic. Because after taco Tuesday, is I’m slightly tired Wednesday.
And there’s a fresh & easy express on my way to work.
So when I wait til the last minute to leave the house I can run through
and throw some stuff into my lunch bag!

And apparently the freshest eggs this side of a farm.
You know that joke: What came first? The chicken or the egg?

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Turns out, Freasy agrees.

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I can never resist a dirty joke.
Also: happy shopping guys! I think I’m in love with this place.

 

 

Yes. I sang it to the tune of M-I-C   K-E-Y    M-O-U-S-E

(alternately titled: I haven’t done a “Reasons why I hate Disney” post this year yet)

I’m just gonna assume that everybody who gets this e-mail has at least a passing  familiarity with The Boondocks. I’m excluding old folks. Well, really, just my mommy and aunties. Daddy, I’m SURE you probably have heard of, if not SEEN it. It’s your kinda show. Srsly.

Did y’all know that Uncle Ruckus’s name is a reference to Uncle Remus or Uncle Tom. He is the darkest-skinned character on the show. His name is also a reference to Amos Rucker, an African-American United Confederate Veterans member, who allegedly wanted to stay a slave after the United States Civil War. (Picks up eyeballs from the floor because EPIC EYEBALL ROLL). He is a black man who firmly doesn’t like black people– the world’s biggest “Uncle Tom”. An overweight, homely man with disproportionate eyes, he enjoys disassociating himself from other African Americans as much as possible, and is outspoken in his support of what Huey calls the “white supremacist power structure.”

I know y’all know about Uncle Tom. Because BOOKS.

But who’s that Uncle Remus fella?

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 That there is James Baskett, the singer-dancer-actor who plays Uncle Remus, ex-slave in Walt Disney’s ‘Song of the South.’

Song of the South is about a young boy, who moves to his mother’s family plantation in Georgia right as his father leaves the family to fight…something. Nobody knows what. Alone and depressed, he’s comforted by the tall tales of Uncle Remus. While it’s implied that the black workers are no longer Johnny’s family’s property, they are still completely subservient, and happily so. Remus is a companion, and link between the live-action sequences and the animated ones involving Brer “don’t throw ME in the briar patch” Rabbit and Brer Fox

Fun Fact: Baskett was not allowed to attend the film’s premiere in Atlanta, Georgia because Atlanta was racially segregated by law.

ANYWAYS. Baskett won an “honorary” Oscar for “his able and heart-warming characterization of Uncle Remus, friend and story teller to (white)children of the world. Baskett also introduced the Academy Award-winning song “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah.” (See? Songs I love, CHARACTERS I DON’T)

Moving on… The last time Disney released the film was 1986. But never in home video format in the US. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY.

 

And lest you think that I don’t have anything Black History Fact of the Day(ish) to add:

Did you know that James Baskett, a black man, was the VERY FIRST LIVE ACTOR hired by Disney?

 

And that’s it kids! Another month of “LOOK AT ALL THESE BLACK PEOPLE” in the can. I hope you learned something! Because I always do. After all, ain’t but so many ways you can learn about Martin, and Malcolm, and Harriet and Rosa. Other black people were out there doing shit too! And when they are, I’ll be back next February to tell you about it. Please enjoy not really thinking about black people doing stuff because we can only talk about that during February and tomorrow is March.

 

 

I don’t know about y’all. But July 4th is a pretty important holiday at my house. Most of the family (all the sides!) and a lot of friends come over for food and foolishness.
And I’m not gonna lie. THERE IS A LOT OF FOOLISHNESS. One year we had a HUGE water balloon fight. I was winning until Nesto climbed in the window with a water hose. I don’t think I have to tell you that’s cheating.
I wish I could say I was making this story up. Only. Have we met?
I can’t even tell you how hard it was to get that much water out of my living room. I’ll just leave it at VERY. IT WAS VERY HARD. (That is what she said. I can never resist. So I stopped trying)

And then the NEXT year, we had THE GREAT SUPER SOAKER WAR of whatever year that was.
The year where I was making a mad dash for safety and stepped in a hole and tore my Achilles but GOOD.
Sidenote: Say what you want about Kobe. If he could stand on both feet after tearing his Achilles and take free throws, he’s a BAMF. The End.
All those people who work at a hospital at my house. Some of them actually clinically inclined.
And the best they could come up with was to put my foot in a bucket of ice and fix me the largest Vodka drink known to man.
And then I spent the rest of my summer in brightly colored casts (hot pink, and green…the colors, Duke! The COLORS!)

While most people would blame the Vodka, or my general clumsiness, or hidden holes in the grass, I blame Lonnie Johnson.
Because he is the (black) man who invented the Super Soaker!

In 1989 Johnson formed his own engineering firm and licensed the Super Soaker water gun to Larami Corporation. Two years later the Super Soaker generated over $200 million in retail sales and became the best selling toy in America. Over the years, Super Soaker sales have totaled close to one billion dollars. Johnson reinvested a majority of his earnings from the Super Soaker into research and development for his energy technology companies – “It’s who I am, it’s what I do.” (Huh. I thought that praise was what we do. No?)

Currently, Johnson holds over 80 patents, with over 20 more pending, and the author of several publications on spacecraft power systems.

I’d say that I’m sorry for slipping in a random gospel song except I’m not. God is everywhere! Even in random stories about my left foot.

I’m not saying that there’s no place in my life for romantic comedies, but. I LOOOVE cowboy movies.
And I was sad that when I lived in Arizona, I never got to go to Tombstone. Site of the gunfight at the OK Corral!
Wyatt Earp! Doc “I’m your huckleberry” Holliday!

Unfortunately, I lived in Yuma, Arizona. Which is NOT AT ALL close to Tombstone.
(But *IS* close to Tuscon, Mo. In case my baby girl is looking for something to do when she’s not studying)
(you’re welcome)

No. This BHFOTD is NOT about Arizona. Because Arizona hates Black people. And Latinos. And Gays.
But it IS about a guy named Wyatt. Turns out there’s more than just one famous one.

*clears throat*

Wyatt Outlaw was the first African-American Town Commissioner and Constable of the Town of Graham, North Carolina.

Outlaw was apparently of mixed racial heritage. Sources conflict on the question of whether Outlaw was a slave or a free person of color.
Outlaw served in the 2nd Regiment U. S. Colored Cavalry from 1864-1866. He served in various engagements in Virginia and late in the Civil war was stationed on the Rio Grande in Texas until he was mustered out in February 1866.
After returning from his service in the Civil War, Outlaw became a prominent African-American in Alamance County. In 1868, Outlaw was among the a number of trustees who were deeded land for the establishment of the first African Methodist Episcopal Church in Alamance County. He was also prominently involved in the Union League and the Republican Party.

Outlaw’s prominent activities on behalf of African-Americans in Alamance County made him a target of the White Brotherhood, the Constitutional Union Guard and the Ku Klux Klan. As a prominent Republican in Alamance County, Outlaw was appointed to the Graham Town Council by Governor Holden and soon became one of three constables of the town – all three of whom were African-Americans (Anybody thinking about Blazing Saddles right now? No? Just me? Okay then).

On one occasion in 1869, white residents of the area who were incensed by the prospect of being policed by an all African-American constabulary organized a nighttime ride in Klan garb through the streets of Graham in an effort to frighten the African-American constables. Outlaw and another constable open-fire on the night riders, but no injuries were sustained. Outlaw’s aggressive response to the night riders further inflamed the anger of Klan sympathizers. AND On this day(night) in 1870, a party of unidentified men road into Graham, dragged Outlaw from his home and hung him from a tree in the courthouse square in Graham.

In 1873, Guilford County Superior Court Judge Albion Tourgee advocated for re-visiting the murder of Wyatt Outlaw. That year the Grand Jury of Alamance County brought felony indictments against 63 Klansmen, including 18 murder counts in connection with the lynching of Wyatt Outlaw, but the Democratically-controlled state legislature repealed the laws under which most of these indictments had been brought so that no trials in connection with Outlaw’s murder ever occurred.

The End.

I know. I’m sorry guys. I just sprung a deathiversary on y’all with no warning. I’m an asshole. But y’all DID know that right? It’s not like THAT comes as a surprise.
But if it makes you feel better… That was 144 years ago. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FOUR YEARS. That’s a long time. And now we’re in post-racial America! We’ve got a Black President!
THIS IS THE YEAR 2014. And race relations are so much diff…. (thinks about Oscar Grant, and Kendrick Johnson, and Trayvon Martin, and Jordan Davis)

Nevermind.

 

I often get super short texts from Spank instead of phone calls.
Spanky is a girl living in a digital world.
I’m cool with it. At least she’s thinking enough of me to keep me updated.
(Also, generally, these texts will turn into conversations about what’s new in college life)

She told me she was going to a party. Then I got a text that said:
Black girls in Boston: Black Girls that can’t dance.

Yeah. She’s that black girl. And quite frankly, I’m not taking any blame. Because she’s got rhythm.
She didn’t wanna LEARN to dance. So her not knowing how to dance? Not my fault.
Because I sure did a lot of dancing at home. And in public. Because nothing is more fun that embarrassing my kids.
(Nesto didn’t teach either of the kids to dance. Because gangsters don’t dance, they boogie)
And you know how most black people learn how to dance?
From their families: mostly cousins and older siblings. (Included: “play” cousins, god sisters/brothers. THEY ARE SO PART OF THE FAMILY.)
Because most dancing happens in everyday spaces, children often dance with older members of the community around their homes and neighborhoods, at parties and dances, on special occasions, or whenever groups of people gather to ‘have a good time’.
Cultural dance traditions are therefore often cross-generational traditions, with younger dancers often ‘reviving’ dances from previous generations, albeit with new ‘cool’ variations and ‘styling’.

That’s right! Like people everywhere, our traditions, including dancing were passed down. But UNLIKE people everywhere, the passing of traditions was likely to get you killed. Back in ye olde slave times, dancing helped enslaved Africans connect with their homeland keeping their cultural traditions alive. Which. YOU STOP THAT RIGHT NOW, TOBY. THIS YO’ HOME NOW. *cough* Sorry.

Before enslavement, Africans danced for special occasions, such as a birth or a marriage, or as a part of their daily activities and dance affirmed life and the outlook of a better future. African-Americans sang and danced while working as slaves, and as they converted to the religions of the Americas, they incorporated these traditions into these religions. Blacks who worked in the colonies of Spain, Portugal, the Caribbean, and South America were given more freedom to dance than enslaved Blacks in North America. Many North American slave owners barred Africans from most forms of dancing Africans found ways of getting around these prohibitions. For example, since lifting the feet was considered dancing, many dances included foot shuffling and hip and torso movement.

The dances of the plantation moved onto the stage through Minstrel shows, which introduced black dance to large audiences during the 1800s. As popular entertainment, both Blacks and whites performed them. Initially, Blacks appeared as giant teddy bears while some white girl struggling with the her transition from Disney teen queen to “adult” “twerked” and made exaggerated facial expressions that I can only assume was her take on what black girls looked like while dancing caricatures that were often ridiculed, but they drew from their cultural traditions even as they made fun of themselves. In 1891, The Creole Show, a revue staged on Broadway introduced The Cakewalk, the FIRST (but certainly NOT THE LAST) dance created by Blacks to become popular with the white population. Other black-influenced dance trends that followed were the Charleston, the Lindy Hop, the Jitterbug, and the Twist. The 1920s and 1930s were an especially fruitful time for black dance in the United States. During the Harlem Renaissance, similar innovations in theater, music, literature, and other arts accompanied African-American developments in dance. Black musical theater, derived from minstrel shows, continued to popularize and legitimize black dance traditions and black performers, as it had in the 19th century and continues into the present day.

In fact, have y’all seen Azonto? Azonto is a dance and a music genre originating from Ghana. (I’m not giving y’all the whole background and junk. Look it up! That’s what the internet is for. Not you know… PORN) This is one of my favorite videos. It’s fun! And cute! And, oh, FOR FUCKS SAKE, WATCH IT.

I can’t wait until white people start doing this. Oh WAIT.*

*Cultural appropriation: When a group (usually the dominant group in society, though not always) takes aspects of another culture without permission and adopts it as part of its own, often without recognition(or acknowledgment) to the roots and history of the cultural tradition in question.

And I’ve only seen HALF of the Oscar Best Picture nominated films.
Never fear! This weekend, I’ll be somewhere watching the ones I haven’t seen draped
across somebody’s couch while wrestling my water bottle and lollipops from greedy baby hands.
#naughtybabies #theyARETOOidentical #yesIusehashtagsinemails #DEAL

So today’s fact is kind of a gimme. BUT. TODAY’S FACT is also a two-fer.
Because last night I couldn’t sleep. And because I didn’t sleep, my brain isn’t really working the way it should.
Which I guess isn’t saying much, because… HI.

*ahem* In 1963, Sir Sidney Poitier (said with requisite French accent) became the first black person to win an Academy Award for Best Actor. This fact is not to be confused with Ms. Hattie McDaniel, who was the first black person to EVER win an Academy Award. Which is almost 40 years (38 to be exact) before another black person won an award. Not to say they weren’t nominated, but yannow. Close only counts in shit fights and horse shoes (and hand grenades!)

Relatedly, I’m saying all this to say that black people have come a long way in the moving picture industry. When Hattie McDaniel won her award, she sat at a segregated table and came in a side entrance because you know…RACISTS. These days we can come right up the red carpet with the rest of the (white) people! Still not winning lots of awards because…Hollywood. I mean, MAYBE I’m exaggerating. But. The first black person to WIN a screenplay Academy Award won it in 2009. The first person to be nominated was in 1972. I’m pretty sure that black people have written screenplays that have been adapted to awesome ass movies worthy of critical acclaim and celebration.

In all honesty, I’m just waiting for a time when black people aren’t being labeled THE FIRST. Because all that really does is point out how many places we’ve been excluded and are finally getting a foot in the door. I guess I’m waiting for the time when black people aren’t still coming, because we’re already here.

And speaking of coming, here’s today’s two-fer. Also a FIRST. I’m not sorry that I’m not sorry at all. It’s totally safe for work.

Happy Monday!