Computer Love...Part 2 of 2

"Could this be your face I see on my computer screen?...Old Skool, Roger and Zapp

Part 2 of 2

When you got it, flaunt it. - Braniff Airlines
All the news that’s fit to print. - The New York Times

Ok, commercial break over, boys and girls...back to our regularly scheduled program:

Anywho, AVJ's girl let it rip. Like, baddayum!! Ok, I'm exaggerating....it was one sentence. "He is a con artist." That's it. But, she added a fukn picture too!! ROFLMBAO!! Yeah, she did. I ain't mad at her at all. To me, that was enough to make a right side up broad foreva neva not neva want to mess with his ass upside down. Don't be tryna front. Even, without the yada, yada, yada and woo, woo, woo, you know brotha man's wifey potentials with that posting could dry up faster than my tucci facing Flava Flav's ass butt butterball nekkid under a strobe light with blinkers. Don't matter that his tucci potentials may not go nowhere, cause the man IS fine. I have to give him that. As a matter of fact, I could have been his next victim. And, lawd, lawd, lawd!!....a happy ass victim I would have been. Now, ME is not gone front nor gone cry (sorry, MJB!). I would have gleefully been his lover and his secketary!! (Gone on Girl!) However, much to my chagrin, I never got that far. And, that's it, we met, but never got together. No tall tale, no short story, no waiting to exhale. Close, but no Black and Mild.

Now, ya knows my alter ego, Shenana Shenandoah, my inherited snapper, Betty and my "sit and spin" potential would like to have me believe there was not nairn neva a chance I could have ever been his victim. BECAUSE, for one, I am THE SHIZZO to the nth power, period. Hmmmm, that may be right. Two, he never would have pulled that ish on me. And, three….yup, you got it....I would have been lying…...to you and me. (**Another "What the fuk was on my dupe?" story coming shortly on down the line.) However, wifing up a good broad might not happen when yo biz is on blast, no matter how fine you is. Word FOR REAL!!

**Notha note: Brotha man from fif flo is fine, fa sho, fa sho. BUT, you still must realize in my delicate state of libido limbo, G Dubya looks cracka lackin good to me right now too. Once again, refer to previous post...I ain't had my legs parted since The Red Sea was. Do not fret, I'm coming backatcha with full details in just a mino. STILL, Stevie Wonder with Ray Charles leading him thru the Underground Railroad backwards with sunglasses on could see that the man is fine.....and this is without Mother Tubman's help.

Ok, enough of this!! Dayum!! Y'all bout to make me lose my draws, up in here, up in here!! Shout out to my man, DMX when he put da pipe down and ain't running into ish. Man down, ya'll, man down. Show him so love.

THE POINT IS: Is it cool to be putting a playa on da internet, as in "Say It Loud, I'm Wack and I'm Proud" and crybaby ass over here put me on the WWW (world wide web, fool!! not wrestling!) to prove it? All because, I, did shim (she and him) wrong and did not call shim no mo?" I know today's modern technology is amazing. (I'm here, ain't I?) But, come on now, people get done wrong left and right erry dayum day and some for good reason (That's right, I did it!! And, don't you tell no g-dayum-body neither! Dude was straight up asking for it...telling me he love me on the second date and after the first smell. Hell, gas was $4.99 a gallon at one point and time. Contrary to popular belief, mustangs do NOT run on horse power. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do and use her resources at hand. And, do not sit here and ack like y'all asses is innocent! You know y'all were selling cans and incense when a whiff of gas needed two loans, yo and yo mama's mink and three cosigners for collateral. Anywho, dis ain't bout me. A fly ass, shiny ass chick once said, "Make dat money, baby. Don't let dat money make you.").

In spite of all this, why you gotta call the Po-Po and be a Firewall Cooty Blocker? How come you can't just get over it the old fashion way? With some Henny, a little MJB, sprinkled with Whitney (before crack, now!), topped off with Luther (Big Lutha, now!) and a smidgen of old skool, Lenny on the side? How come you just can't watch television until television go off and then play your records until you just don't want to hear them anymore? And, then let your best friend tell you that you should just forget about them? I know I may not have been in love like you before. But, when did everything become so fukn complicated and so vindictive? My people, I have been hurt too. I know how a heart beat up feels. I have been crying inside for one man for over 15 fukn years!! Dayum near had to check into Rehab...Miss Rhi-Rhi Girl. But, LADIES, why can't you just punch him in the gonads, instead of having a need for errybody else to punch him in on Google? Stop trippin!! He's just not that into you!! Dayum!! Get over it, Ma. FELLAS, why you gotta get charges for stalking and orders for restraining when it's 20 to 1 out here for you? Get over it, Papi. "Ya Lost One..Jay-Z" Motha fukas locked up, strung out, pissed off,"You can have whatever you like...TI"....all you need to do is BE a BMW (black man working), you ain't even gotta drive one. You can drive a droptop hooptie for all we care. Hell, YUGO? Shiiid, WE GO!! (**Refer to another woman's garbage, headache and treasure.)

AND ERRYBODY: If somebody does not want you, let them bounce, don't try to stop them, LET THEM GO...as the door closes and hit them where the good Lord split them, "Pop Champagne....Jim Jones and Crew." You cannot make someone love you. Just "Live Your Life....TI and my girl, Miss Rhi." HOLLA!!!!

What I want to know is: ain't this just another form of hateration? Or, is it, if you don't want nothing told, you don't need to do nothing to tell? I know what is done in the dark will come to light. But, how come it has to be that way?...if we turn off the lights, light a candle, and slam the dayum door, and lock it? Also, what if the person is a stalka and you gots the gift and don't wanna use it on them no more? And, honeybabychile, if the person is fine, are you really gonna give a snap, crackle, pop what the last victim said any friggin ways? Hmmppfff...gotta think on that one. HARD, if you get my drift? (hint, hint, wink, wink) Let's tell the truth, now…..how many of you are really going to pass up some good tucci because there is another person out there mad cause they ain't getting no mo of the good tucci? Most importantly, are we going to be afraid to tell someone to piss off and continue to put up with their dumassodocious ass ish just because we scared they may publicly blow the whistle on our private fashizzle? TELL ME….When in hayell did we lose the right to duck and dodge a motha fuka, if we don't want to be bothered?!!

Don't get me wrong.....you hang around dis here jukebox long enough, you gonna hear all about how Celie told Harpo to beat me. I am going to let it rain on dem hoes and erry one of dem busta ass niccas I've dealt with (and shame on me, some I STILL deal with). I am gonna blast their asses erry chance I get straight into the Digital Underground. BUT!! Do not get it twisted and get yo thongs and boxers in a bunch. I ain't gonna use their real names, I just can't. I was raised by men, and even though some ish is deservable (is that a word?), I still just can't. My Papi would just not approve of it. (**See previous post about his deadly aversion to BS). I am sworn to protect the innocent and the not so innocent, just in case I might have to use them one mo 'gin for the road. Believe me, I don't hate the game. What? Is there a problem here, playa? I got a baby pimping me in college who ain't got no daddy (same motha fuka I be crying over!). So, it ain't no need for me to be over here burning bridges and ish. That is like Survivor 101, The Black Games, Chapter 17, Verse 33....Don't blast at all on him, if it ain't yo last call to him. Hello! Talk to me now!! I'm just trying to keep my baby off the pole.

Ok, all my disciples of dating, I have laid before you a new research project (yes, I turned AVJ's comments into a project. What's it to you? Just answer the dayum questions. Sheesh! Always gotta be one difficult motha fuka in the bunch. Dayum!).

1. Did we not listen to the little backup singer, Miss Kelly, of Destiny's Child when she sang her little heart out with, "You know I'm not gone diss yo on the internet. Cause my mama taught me better than that?"

Now, did our Mama really teach us better than dat? Prolly not, I don't know bout you but my Mami had no idea what the internet was, nor what dissing was until I enlightened her. She was like, "Kick they ass, baby and call me if anyone else dare jump in it. That's old skool. Don't you worry your pretty little, looking like your Papi but got your Mami's legs, curly head about a dayum thang!! I got something for their asses. Mami always got bail money in a pickle jar under the bed, with the pantyhose in it at Muddear's house."...Dallas Virginia, circa 1971.

2. Every time we meet someone are we now going to scour the internet to see if a brotha is "The Return of the Mack?"....Old Skool, Mark Morrison.

Y'all gotta let me know something here, my people. Makes not much sense to me, but I will admit I have been known to call my girls to check a brotha's credit.

Have we finally confirmed "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp?"...my El Mempho home jammy jams, Three 6 Mafia

In the meantime............KEEP THE PARTY GOIN!!

**LAST MENTAL NOTE TO SELF: You must use your powers for good next time. REPEAT: Do not use your powers for evil. CHANT: I must not use my powers for evil, I must not use my powers for evil, I must use my powers for good, stop starting ish, use powers for good, not evil....la, la, la.

That's it, I'm taking my talking ass to bed. I'm tired!...DE END

Computer Love, Part 1 of 2

"Could it be your face I see on my computer screen?".....Old Skool, Roger and Zapp

Page 1 of 2

After hanging out with my homeskillet, AVJ, one cold ass Chi-Hawk night, a new post just popped right outta me. As usual, it came from our black girl bonding which started with our conversation on the opposite sex and our observation of their shenanigans. Why, of course!! She told me that one of her girls had met this brotha, kicked it with him faithfully for a good couple of months and then for no known reason to her, he just stopped calling.

No argument, no last rites, no kiss my ass, no notha broad trippin, no him downstairs, no nothing. I was like, "Dayum!! Word?" I couldn't believe it. That is really like the worst thing you can do to a woman, especially a sista. WOW! You know how bad sistas know they bad. Hmmmpf! "If ya don't know, now ya know...Notorious B.I.G." So, to leave a bad sista in limbo and just not call her after the intimacy she gave, the good sex you got and the kick it time y'all had is....well, it is like taking away MAC Viva Glam and replacing it with Wet and Wild number 232. Ok, maybe not that bad...cause you fukn with my MAC is like me taking penitentiary chances with your life span...**Quote, Unquote from: Reasons Bad Black Sistas Will Kill Yo Ass 101, Chapter 2, 1st fukn verse.....Can I get an amen?

Nam myo renge kyon, nam myo renge kyon, gone on now, Ike. Stop, now, I don't want no cake! Stop! Gone now, dammit!! Whew! Ok, where was I? Oh, yeah....sorry y'all!! That MAC stupidassadocious vision straight up gave me heart palpitations....got me twitching and shaking over here. Made me check my purse and the chick's next to me to make sure we were strapped. Shiiid, I almost passed out. I was like, "Let Me Clear My Thoat, YES, THOAT".....Old Skool, DJ Kool. Can you say FEE-OUL?

Anywho, you know he hurt her feelings, right? No chick wants to think they showed a man their Vicky Secretions in vain as an investment for the future in the present without a probable return of a present IN the future. Ish was just uncalled for, plain and simple. So, in a moment of "I'm Gonna Git You Sucka" and after a fit of "I'm Not Gone Cry" by Mary, sista sledge rocketed this brotha right out of hood oblivion into Blast City. I was like, "WTF?!! How she do dat?"

**Note: Yes, ironically, there is a website where you can do just that....put a playa on blast and even the supa slut down the street by yo mama house, round the corner from your girl that banged your husband who then banged ya sister and ya cousin, thought he wasn't? "I Get Around...2Pac in the Digital Underground" Yessirree, that is a tweakster's paradise right there. And, NO, Hayell NO, I ain't gonna tell you where it is!! You want it, you search for it. SMDH...Enough is going on out there without me over here adding a dime and a nickel bag. Plus, you know what they say....one woman's garbage may be another woman's fukn headache...oops, er, sorry,....I meant, treasure...yeah another woman's treasure. You believe that ish, you believe that the light bright, dayum near white, kid in the hood with the good hair and the crackhead mama ain't the insurance man's son. ;-<> Don't hate the playa, hate the game!

****BIG ASS AIN'T GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH NOTHING NOTE: Do you know that they have that saying and more on urbandictionary.com? We have our own dictionary, peoples!! HOLLA!!

Page 1....now gone on over to Page 2....beat it!

The Jacking of Scarface's Intellectual...sorry Bossip!

I LOVE THIS MAN!!!
Ok, nothing from me, just some straight comedy from the world out there....here is an excerpt from The Source’s recent interview with Scarface:

Get'em Boo!

You expressed concern about other rappers publicly endorsing Barack Obama during the campaign....
“I was like, ‘Shut the fuck up and let the man campaign.’ Let the man run his campaign and don’t go nigga his shit up. You know? Don’t be too niggerish about it. Let him run a smooth campaign. I liked his campaign. It was just the facts and I respect that. John McCain scared me. He’s 74, 75,- got a week or two left. And we got this crazy bitch behind him. She could see Russia from her house. That’s her foreign policy.”

Regarding Messe Jesse's infamous "nut cutting" comment:
“Yeah, I saw the shit on YouTube. Talking about he wants to cut his balls off and then got his ass out there crying the night he makes his move. He [Obama] gets his shit and he’s the first Black President, then Jesse’s up there crying like a muthafucka.”

I love this country...................................and being Black!!!

A GOOD MAN….hmmmpf….from some ½ ass Busta’s perspective

Brotha Man talking mad ish, but hold up, Gym shoe!!
He may have some major points. Check it out:

A GOOD MAN
You say you want a Good Man and when it comes to finding one, you won't.
Because when it comes to really wanting one, simply put, ladies, you don't.
You say you want a Good Man, one that will always give you hugs.
But every time I turn around, you're always chasing after thugs.
You say you want a Good Man. Well, I'm here to tell you that's not true.
Because the last one that came your way, wasn't tall enough for you.
You say you want a Good Man because you're tired of trifling mess.
However, you rolled your eyes at the last one, because you didn't like the way he dressed. You say you want a Good Man, one that will have you for his wife.
Yet, every time you come across one, you say he's just too nice.
You say you want a Good Man and I'm not saying you should make him beg.
But a brother should at least know your first and last name before you open up your legs.
See if you try that with a Good Man, in you he won't be pleased.
For he realizes, just like he could have, other brothers have had you with ease.
Now in order to get a Good Man, you need to listen; see, it's in your favor.
Starting with the fact that no Good Man wants a woman who curses like a sailor.
And in your quest to find a Good Man, listen as if it's Law.
You'll never find a good man, if you always label him as a dog.
See a Good Man wants a woman that expects to receive his best.
But you will never ever find one, if you keep settling for less.
Now if you've found a man you think might be right for you.
You'll know he's not a Good man, if he won't go to church with you.
For in the life of a Good Man, you're not first, but don't take it hard.
See you're standing right there next to him, but you're second after God.
So if you still would like a Good Man, one that will make you a real good husband.
There's only one thing left for you to do…..and that's simply become a Good Woman.
===============================================================
I’m feeling this, don't get me wrong. But, ya knows I have to dissect each and every one as it relates to me, 'cause that's just me. Ok, so if you know me then you know the thug requirement is a part of me, right? Shall we call it "urban," people? :-) Word!! It is just that I gotta feel like he can take care of me and have my back. Like, he will open up a can of whup tail on somebody if they call me anything other than my given name or even pretend like they wanna look crooked at me. Now, I don't want no degenerate fool or no mess like that. I just wants a REAL MAN. Kinda like the “Good Girl, Bad Boy" syndrome. Let me know what YOU think. Now here we go now, come on:

HEIGHT: They kinda pegged me on this one, but I am not really firm on it. But, still the logic remains: What the hell can you do with a man that is 4'9" and you are damn near six feet in stocking feet, no matter how much of a Mr. Wonderful he is? Hello! I do think they are ragging on me a little bit. 'Cause, I do gotta admit I have that "Daddy" syndrome. My father was 6'4" and EVERYBODY knows I loved me some Papi. I gave new meaning to Daddy’s Girl. So, I have more than a slight tendency to look for someone in his image. The tall man standing over the crowd will almost always catch my eye first. Still and all, if you have no substance, it don’t matter how tall you are, your azz STILL ain't got no substance, playa.

APPAREL: The shoes!! Look at the shoes!! ha! ha! On the real, we don’t want anybody that looks like Johnny Taylor and we are always looking like Ann Taylor. And, they don't want anybody that looks like something thrown away either with her tracks showing. And, honey I ain't talking about CTA either. Apparel tells a lot about the person. Bad: They are a slob. Good: Takes pride in their appearance, but could also be broke because of the shopping bill, so he ain't got nothing to do nothing else with. That one there could definitely be a two way street.

BEING NICE: Nobody wants a fool. Me, myself don't need a "Yes Man." Indeed someone who is challengING, not A challenge (no games!) and is not intimidated by me and is not afraid of my strength, but also will not use my vulnerabilities against me. That's when I go straight into a defense mode and come out of the box like a venomous viper cobra. DO NOT play with that part of me!! I repeat, "DO NOT PLAY WITH MY SENSITIVITIES!!" I will never, ever forgive for that. NEVER!! Our relationship is over fa' show if ya do that. It is like a lick to me and everybody knows I do not "take a licking and keep on ticking." PERIOD!! My name ain't Timex. After something like that, it is usually like I "get to walking and they get to stalking." ha! ha!

MY PAST: “Watch it, sucka!”…Lovely Aunt Esther. Do NOT go there!! I will straight Jap-Snap. I respect myself and it shows. They should too. This really does not apply to me. They should be secure enough in themselves & not worry about what I have done in the past and with whom. Like they say, "There are two sides to every story." All they need to worry about is what I do for them. I have some people in my past that I will never, ever forget. And, there are also some that I wish I never, ever had to remember and will always rue the day I met. We all do. For one thing, today is today. I don't want to live in my past, so why should they? If they wanted to live there, they should have been there. You missed it, get over it! Because if they trip about it, they will be just that....in my past! And, just for future reference, a whore is a whore is a whore!! A real woman doesn't want a man who everyone else has had either. So, multiple baby daddies and played out wannabe pimps need not apply! “Get ta stepping!”…..Ole Marty Mart

CUSSING: When I get pissed off, I swear. That is just me. End of story. No biggie. (I'm working on it. One of my idiosyncrasies, ha! ha!) Basically, to my girls and to myself. At the right time AND the right place. Don't do drama. But, you get me going and I will give you a Dearborn Homes/Ida B. Wells cussing out fa' sho'. Kinda like "you deal with it or you don't", but will always respect you, as long as you respect me. Once you don't, I don't. And, if we ever get there where I do have to do an Ida Bee, the relationship is over anyway.

And ladies, some Men ARE dogs!! Yet, some aren't. Just judge them individually and call them as ya see them. I know Sista Sledge here will not ever settle for BS, even though I do try to give them a few chances here and there. I expect them to do the same for me. (**See: "MY PAST"!!)

CHURCH: The Lord!! Absolutely!! No doubt! Halle-friggin-luiah!

I AM A GOOD WOMAN!! BUT, I am NOT perfect and NEITHER are YOU.
You get as good as you give. Everyone should remember that!!

Faith in God, Respect by Aretha, and Love & Happiness with Al.

Whatcha think? Ya feel me?

MALIK YOBA....Lawd, Lawd, Lawd!! Somebody stop me!

Ok, party people in the house….I am at it again. So, we must embark on my trip for today. And, if you don’t want to go.... there is a little white X inside a little red box at the top in the right hand corner you can click on and kiss off my ish. Capiche? (SMH…..People can make me act so ugly sometime.)

Anywho, we have already established the fact I ain’t got a man, right? (**See previous blog entry.) Well, since I don’t, I have to find interesting ways to spend my time and entertain myself without threat of electrocution or the development of a nervous tic. And for the mino, Malik “J. C. Williams” Yoba, is IT. Chile, I am watching NY Undercover erry night wishing playa was right here in Chi under MY cover. I sometimes study HOW he plays his character when I’m able to think rationally with my brain and not my lewd and lascivious alter ego. And during these coherent times, I try to differentiate J.C., the character, from Malik, the man. When my brain cells are really in mode, I realize some things about the two are one and the same. For example, observe how J.C. holds and handles the female characters he has to interact with on NYC-U. Just from watching the byplay, I KNOW I have accurately deduced that Malik is playful, affectionate and romantic; not afraid of a little PDA and most def is a great cuddler. Don’t ya think? I seriously believe this is just Malik and not a character trait that can be easily separated from the man himself. It is characteristically….well, just HIM. DAYUM!! At this point, I would like to give a round of acclause, yes, ACCLAUSE to RCN for the DVR and a shout out to TVOne for the Black Time reruns. This ish is bananas!

As I watch, I always go back to thinking about our run-in (yes, playa, HIS and MINE) in NYC a few years back. Of course, sista sledge here was on the hunt for some FIYAH-ass boots down in SoHo, when low and g-dayum behold, who steps out of his truck right next to her? Yup, you got it. In between heart palpitations, WTFs and checking for drool, I plainly said, “Malik Yoba.” And, he said, “Wassup, Ma?” And there, we went. You know I played my ish cool, right? Take a picture here, cop a feel there, and rub everywhere. I was in groupie heaven! That man smelled so jam good; I thought I should just patent his ass right then and there. He was truly the epitome of a tall, black and handsome drank of water. TALL!! Whoo whee!! Help me girl!! I just lubs me a man that has the holy grail potential to throw my ass into next week!! Just big, black and CUTE as ever! (Sorry, Biggie, I heard you were my baby daddy, but brotha suga was FOINE!)

This man had swagger and game when we didn’t even know what swagger was or what to call game. I mean, he has one of the most appealing faces I have ever dilated my retinas on. I looked up some of his recent pics and he still has that “eye candy” quality. The baby eyes, neat goatee and dazzling white smile are just as appealing today, as it was 10 years ago. (Don’t jap…That body is still nicely on point too!!) Sidebar, as in WAYYY down the road: One showed his wife, Kat…not sure if they are still together, but she was the chick who was cast as the main lead in Kelly’s “Trapped in the Closet” video series. I refuse to go on about that for medicinal purposes, as in she makes me want to…well, you get the point. And, simply because that is not what I came here for, dammit! So, for the time being, she will STAY trapped in her closet and out of MY blog. ;-)

Being the internet stalker that I am, I also checked out Malik’s Facebook site. His postings were incredibly sentient and verbally responsive to all his life has been and the relevance of today's issues. He blatantly revealed he is completely cognizant of his blessings and from where he has come from as a teenager with a bullet in his neck and the road he has taken to grow into the man he is today. He, in no uncertain terms, informed us that we, as human beings, have a compulsory obligation and objective to be a part of the solution and not part of the problem. (Didn’t know I had it in me, did ya? :-)) And, I quote, my man says, “I will continue to do my best to place myself humbly in the shoes of these great men (and women) that walked this earth before me or at least try to follow in their footsteps and be of service to those around me.” Is this man the shizzo or what?!!!

**Ok, note to self: Take medication before reading his postings and/or have a victim within striking distance to satisfy unabashed, but singularly focused cravings. Make sure that said victim will realize he is not the focus and will secretly go into the night without trouble, because well, he is not the focus of said unabashed cravings.**

Being raised by men my whole dayum life, I have a tendency to sometimes, shall I say, “lack a characteristically feminine approach” to men. Let me break it down for ya…..I looked at this man as a catalyst for my libido and was not the least bit concerned about his level of academia. I didn’t give a nit’s patooty, if he could pass third grade. Don’t get it?....Ok, a little further breakdown….he was looked at strictly for how I could lay him down and how he could uplift me and NOT his peoples. WORD!

To say I was pleasantly surprised is an understatement. I have always known from straight jump street 1994 that Malik is one put together brotha. He has always made it evident that he does not live by sex appeal alone, even though Lord knows he could. He has never been shy about the fact he is blessed where he is but he must give back to where he was. Alright, alright..shut up, will you?!! I will admit that his prophetic, intellectual, and intelligent rants and causes have always appealed to me. (Shhh…don’t tell nobody!! My Shenana Shenandoah personality does not want it to be known that she actually has a brain and someone will, with dire consequences to the free world mind you, find out that she is not all about nocturnal hankering and horizontal nookie.)

Still, no matter how much I try to indulge my multiple personality disorder and my girl, Shenana Shenandoah, of my multiple personality disorder, I am still and always will be Papizgirl, the daughter of a strong black, multicultural man who had an infinite loathing of and immeasurable aversion to BS. He would turn over in his grave and slap straight fiyah outta my ass, if I acted like I didn’t have good sense and an appreciation for it. So, to sum it up, even though I look at Malik as an outlet for my cataclysmic libido, the main attraction of him………as I stop and pause the DVR to check his chest just one mo ‘gin……..through the twice rerun of his run down 125th street with Eddie on his side……and as I straight playa hate and turn eighteen different shades of turquoise when I watch him place a kiss on the forehead of his female associate……….is and always will be his di….direction in life he takes and the example he sets for all of us to follow.

Can I get an Amen? Word!

ETHNIC…..exactly what does that mean?

"I'm very proud to be black, but black is not all I am. That's my cultural, historical background, my genetic makeup, but it's not all of who I am nor is it the basis from which I answer every question."....as quoted by Denzel Washington, who unknowingly explains the heart of my soul and how it came to be.

"All that I am is from all that I have become".....as quoted by Larry's Daughter.

Does your ethnicity come from whom you were born, what you were taught or where your life leads you?

Today, I saw this couple...black, 30ish, happy…a chick like me that has lived her life solely only on instinct can always tell. Of course, that immediately intrigued me considering I have not been in an “appropriate” relationship, in months, damn near years (fuk it...maybe never? Don't worry, I'll sell you that horse on another date.) Nevertheless, what really set my wheels to turning was the fact they had on all this, what I consider, Black “culturally stigmatized gear.” The guy caught my attention first. He had on the ever-present Timberlands, gold rimmed glasses (as in 90ish Gazelle like), jeans with characters on the pockets (maybe Fat Albert?? Tweety? Osama Bin Laden?), and a black leather jacket with lettering stenciled in gold thread on the back. I wanted to say it was the popular “Davoucci” brand until I went to their website and saw that their stuff is quite tight, very urban sexy. The male models made my mouth flat out spit-drool. Anyone that knows me knows that I love my man edgy, brooding and typically a “bad boy” billboard. That usually is what gets me into all types of ish, but that is also another story for another day. Anyway, what was advertised on the Davoucci site was completely in a different stratosphere (maybe hood?) than what my man was rocking.

Just so you know......I am a Chi-Town girl through and through by way of El Mempho fa sho, fa sho; so, I would say his jacket was seriously Southside 47th street, 63rd and Halsted Street or maybe even Westside Madison Street. The young lady had on some jeans that made my eyes water, as they were positively something I had never seen or could even possibly imagine leaving a clothing rack in my hands intoxicated and insane. Although she was on the slender side, the fit of the jeans left a lot to be desired........as in she should have desired a better damn fit! They were sorta kinda high-waisted, when they weren’t supposed to be, curved in where they should have went straight, bell bottoms with bongs off and no noise. She even had nerve enough to tuck them inside some leather wedge boots I solemnly suspected popped out the window of one of those Westside Madison shops next to where her boy got his Cartoon Network fix. I also knew there could have been a slight chance they materialized out of one of those $9.99 Chernin’s stores that have mysteriously popped up all over everywhere like liquor stores in the hood, AFTER being ran out of Chi-dodge some 15 odd years ago. I tell ya!! Those boots were like the step-sister of the rich kid; in the family, but not the real McCoy. I may not be rich, but as my girl say, “I may not know nothing, but I damn sho know shoes.”

All of this observation brought me to the point of where does MY ethnicity fit into all of this? Now, don't think I looked down on them, I absolutely did not!! (I had to clean up that ish before somebody lost they church on me. WHEW!) They were actually a physically attractive couple. As a matter of fact, a broad was a tad bit jealous of the evidentiary "I'm gone get some tonight" feelings glowing in their eyes between them, considering I ain't had none since none had me. DAYUM! So, why in hayell did their gear immediately make me check my own and thank God I didn’t “look” like them? They were clean, neat, color-coordinated, in lust at the very least and just not my friggin’ style.

Don't get me wrong...I ain't got two g-dayum nickels to rub together and I was still an ad for "I rather go naked than wear fur or that ish they got on." Am I bourgeois and broke? Are they more culturally in touch with their "blackness" than my mutt raced behind? Am I trying to be white associative by not adapting their, dare I say it, horrid fashion sense? And, since I am not trying to emulate their fashion sense, am I committing a black faux pas? Is it wrong for me to want to leave Phat Farm on the farm and to express mail my ass to EXPRESS every time I sniff a sale?!

MOST IMPORTANTLY....Did my multiracial, but strongly steeped in southern blackness (as in would slap you in a MINO in church!), parents raise me incorrectly by sheltering me from the racial climate of the southern 1970’s, therefore giving me a false sense of who I am and what I should be, or what fashion (or heaven forbid! cultural) climate I should embrace? Am I a “sell-out?” What and whose decision makes me or makes me not?

DAMMIT!! AM I ETHNIC ENOUGH??

Now that is the question of the day, boys and girls. Go ahead....please talk amongst yourselves, I need all the help I can get….I will be right back after the next break.