What time is it? Thin Line Time!

Y'all, my deepest apologies for being so late. KB was off tanning and networking at a conference in Meh-hee-co last week and I'm just now settling back into the swing of things at work. Without further ado, A Thin Line:

Love: Halloween. I plan my costume months ahead and begin to consume candy corn 'round about August in anticipation of the holiday. I seriously think my desire to someday have kids revolves around the idea that I will be obligated to Trick-Or-Treat with the little mungrells for at least 14 years. Who am I kidding, I still trick-or-treat now, sans kid. The ol' "I'm trick-or-treating for my little brother who's home sick" excuse works everytime!

Hate: Halloween. The overconsumption of candy and chocolate is horrible for the waistline and teeth. It's ridiculous. Meanwhile, I saw someone come out of CVS with hoards of candy they just purchased and literally stepped over a homeless person begging for food or money. Can ya throw a brotha some mini-M&M's? My word.



Hate to Love: You guessed it bitches, Halloween. I hate that I love it is the one holiday that you can dress like a straight up whore and no one can judge you! It's awesome. Of course many b's take it way too far (as I was reminded once at a party when an "angel" stood in front of me while I was sitting down and her thong laden ass was directly in my face. I guess she thought her thin see-through white nighty made it less slutty. wrong.). ps: KelleBelle is one of those b's! I feel like a slutty costume is okay, as long as it's original!

Speaking of original, what the hell is P.Hilton supposed to even be in the pic above? Besides wildly inappropriate?

Bamboozled!!!

Picture it: yesterday, the head of recruiting emailed me personally to ask if I could interview a law student for a summer associate position. I have interviewed candidates before but usually I volunteer to an office-wide request for interviewers. I have never been personally sought out to interview. The mystery was solved when I read the candidate's resume: she attends law school at a historically black college. Got a black candidate, get a black interviewer (you know, to make sure the candidate knows we are a diverse organization and equal opportunity folks and so forth and so on...).

Well, wouldn't you know when I opened my office door today to greet said candidate this girl was anything but black! More like the opposite! White as fallen snow and hair so bright she could light up a dark ass room. Of course I knew to broach the race subject would have been quite inappropriate (not to mention illegal, I think) so I tap-danced around the subject..."So how do you like ____ Law School?" She said with a huge smile: "I love it!" I'm thinking...I bet you do! Takin' all our men and polluting the earth with your racially confused mungrell children (myself included). Uh huh... (I'm kidding...I actually think she may swing for the other team, but that's a whole 'nother level of diversity).

The entire time she sat across from me I searched for any bit of ethnicity in her face, or hair. I got nathan. Not one kink in her super smooth bright blond highlighted hair. It got a tad akward when we spoke about her affection for swimming and water sports and I said I love the water as well, but my hair just makes it difficult for me to swim on a regular basis. She quashed any chance of her maybe being a tiny bit black by going the "my best friend is black" route. Well not exactly, but she tried to connect with me by saying her best friend at law school always talks about how she "sweats out" her hair when they go to the club...um, thanks for the info! I said nothin' about sweatin' out my hair, fool.

Meanwhile, do you think it'd be in bad taste for me to paste this post onto my firm's Interview Evaluation form under "general impression"? Or perhaps just simply, "Bamboozled." She was super nice but I just can't get over her choice of law schools...why?!

Black Folk's Hell

One of my fav bloggers, Thembi, (whatwouldthembido.blogspot.com) and I were having a lovely afternoon girl talk session via Gchat today when she mentioned one of her neighbors stole her copy of Jet magazine. I know what you're thinking, "Who the hell has a subscription to Jet? It's still in print?"

After Thembi informed me that the magazine is definitely still in circulation and pinned the subscription on her moms, I told her that the Jet thief would surely go to hell for their sin. And not just any hell, Black Folk's Hell! What makes Black Folk's Hell different you ask?

Well, for starters, as soon as you enter, your hair transforms into a messy Jheri Curl. The juices soak your clothes and burn your eyes and neck as they run down your face all day, everyday. The Cosby Show never existed, and Birth of a Nation plays on repeat. In addition Thembi added, in Black Folk's Hell, chicken does not exist, and lotion is a made-up concept. People's knees and elbows are constantly bleeding due to the extreme level of ashiness.

Meanwhile, I hear VH1 is in the works to make the above concept into a reality show. And that Jake, is really Black Folk's Hell.

No chile, Jake is at work. That, my friend, is black folk hell. (Giggles).

Note: The jheri curled tool pictured above is "Punk" from ILNY2. And also, a former classmate of mine at Harvard Law. Thanks for simultaneously shaming your people and devaluing my degree, jerkwad!

A Thin Line anyone?

Well well, looks like KelleBelle will start this week's ATL post. I am usually the sole holder of the late pass, but Jake has been pretty busy these days, what with the Britney situation and the imminent J.Lo pregnancy announcement. You know, serious global issues.

Love

I love me some early 90s movies Jake. And not of the BoyzntheHood or House Party 1-7 variety (which are fan faves as well, of course). I mean the kind of movies where the stars are all legit professionals and everyone is dressed to the nines complete with shoulder pads, big hair and harsh makeup for the women, and sleek fades for the men. I sat and watched Boomerang twice on Friday night and had the best time ever. I heart seeing Chris Rock in a film early in his career where he is not a crackhead. For one night, all seemed right in the world.

First, I rebuke any thought from anyone who doesn't appreciate a good crackheaded performance and let's face it...nobody does a better crackhead performance than Chris Rock. Except maybe Halle Berry. Second, I am going to have to say that I love New York. And, that I am so happy it has returned. And, that it is going to prove that Harvard Law School is an overated sham of an institution thanks to one "Punk" pictured in the above post. Eat it KelleBelle, you should have gone to Penn.

Hate

Time. There's never enough of it. Or if you're doing something boring or annoying, there's too much of it. I hate that there are zones of it. If we were all in the same zone, I'd totally hop on a plane on Friday and go home to Cali for the weekend. But due to that damn zone, I'd spend half of my life on the plane getting back to the EST on Sunday night. Okay clearly I am struggling for something to Hate this week. But that's a good thing, right?

Consistent with my love of New York (the person and show, not the damn city), I hate those people, black and white, who say that she and the show reflect negatively on the black community. One person can't represent the whole and a white person is quick to point out that s/he is not responsible for the racist acts of others, including acestors. Why therefore am I responsible for the behavior of those on I Love New York. We have to start using white logic against white people. And that's real talk. People like New York exist and I will not be shamed of her. I didn't raise that child. I don't know her and I don't know anyone on the show. You, on the other hand KB...

Hate to Love

Exhaustion. Not the kind that is actually code word for Anorexia or Overdose. I mean true exhaustion. From working out so hard at the gym you are exhausted and sore for days. Or you were up two nights in a row fervently drafting a human rights petition that you know will likely never see the light of day but dammit, justice is at stake! Or you are exhausted because you were up all Saturday night having a tickle fight (both of the naughty and innocent variety) with your dude. Exhaustion means you are living life to the fullest and taking no prisoners. Or you are just out of your Lunesta prescription. Either/or.

All that being said. I hate that I love New York. She, the show, and VH1 are indeed the Devil.

The Worse Thing About The Britney Situation

Let's face it this whole Britney situation is awful, awful, awful. But you know what the worse part of it is? It is not that she is a crackhead, it's not that these kids are doomed, it's not that she has been deemed less suitable as a parent than one K-Fed, it's not that it's all being broadcast over TMZ, and it is not even that she is fat. It's more that we all saw this coming when she married this guy and then decided to have his kids.

Let's also face that we saw all of this coming years ago. At least, I know I did. Perhaps I am an evil human being, but when the stories first surfaced of Britney and Shar Jackson's anonymous baby-daddy surfaced I was already looking forward to the disaster that would be the breakup. Then they got married and I got more excited. Then they had kids and I was bout to explode with anticipation. And then it all unravelled...bit by bit, or shall I say Brit by Brit.

Why anyone finds this shocking is beyond me. You know you saw this coming. You knew this would the biggest, baddest, trashiest break-up ever. You knew it. We were all just waiting. And, we didn't have to wait long. I mean it takes story lines on All My Children longer to unravel.

And now, I just sit back and watch. With imaginary popcorn. Sometimes I forget that this is a real life. I think we all do thanks to these stupid blogs. I am kind of disgusted with TMZ who is now bragging that they are the ones who caught Britney driving with the kids when she wasn't supposed to and then drinking when she wasn't supposed to. It's kind of awful. But for her relative fame she would still have the kids. Who the hell was watching K-fed?

In fact, somebody grab the camera while I put on my wig and lipstick: LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE. Better yet, KB grab your foundation and let's do the Janet & Michael video for Britney. What? You didn't think you would get to be Janet did you? Chile... cheese.

(giggles)

Thin Line!!

KB, what's really good!? What's been up with you and what's up with thin line? I have two weeks of confusion built up so I am just gone let it out...

Love

I am going to have to switch it up on you KB and confess that I love my new boy. Okay, so I don't love him, but I love the idea of him. I do like him a lot though. He's super good to me, hot, and kinda gets me. I love it. Oh, and he is hilarious. Oh, and all my friends love him. We can talk or not talk for hours. I guess that's why I ain't been running around here blogging and ish. But, I'm back bitches. The bitch is back!!!

Jake, get out of my head please. We are so on the same wavelength! I bet we get our monthlies at the same time too we are so in sync. Chile, I'm loving the idea of my boy too! Were you fighting your likeness? I know I was. But damnit I am in like. And loving it! Meanwhile, have you been getting hit on incessantly and ex-paramours have been sniffin 'round? They must dig the content vibe I'm giving. Or the 5lbs I've recently lost. Either way, I'm in like! That's why I've been nan-where round these blogging parts...oh that and party planning and my indentured servitude day job. But the parties are over, my job is getting a bit more manageable so you know what that means right? The bitches is back son! And they said, "Yay-men!"

Hate

This is no news flash and I feel really guilty about saying this, but I am not a big fan of fat people who be going to the club, taking up all my space and breathing all the thin man's air. I mean, I guess it's okay to be big on your own, but not so much in a crowded club. There I said it. It really bothers me. And you know who is always the one dancing the hardest? The fat boy. There he is working up a sweat, which of course only invites the question of why don't you dance like this more often...in your living room, like the people on youtube? They really make me uncomfortable. And when they exhaust themselves from all the dancing you know what they do? They come and stand right next to me. Boo!

Jake, oh Jake. I'mma say a prayer for you, and J.Lo too. But mostly for you. Don't be a fat-ist! I'm not a fan of anyone - thin or plump - dancing all extra up in a crowded club, getting sweat on me and throwing bows, etc. But, as long as they are dressed nicely and do not have stank breath, get it in! You looking down on the fatties dancing exuberantly is just part of the problem. You see a rude, disgusting, annoying display of girth, I see calories burning and fun being had by all. Supa-man dat what?

Hate to love

Jake, this may shock some peeps, but I Hate that I Love Jews*. Okay not Jews generally, but Judaism in particular. Or Jewish weddings if you want to get specific. Okay, liberal, eclectic Jewish weddings officiated by a lesbian Rabbi. Yes! You know KB is half J right? Chile, I love me some Jewish traditions! I may have to get a late pass Batmitzvah before I get married just so I can break the glass - after jumping the broom. Mazel-Tov!

I hate that I love sobriety. It has now been two days since I last smoked or drank anything. Snaps for the kid. I had been on something for so long that I had forgotten what it was like. In fact, I think I am on a sobriety trip right now. It's like woooooow, this is weird. Why is my brain moving so quickly? What are these emotions I am feeling? For real? I had forgotten what anger was like. It's a high of it's own. Real talk. I kinda like myself. But it's early.

*Real Talk: Before the ADL shuts this bitch down, let me explain why this is not in the Love category. I'm half J but was never accepted by the J's in my hood growing up, or anywhere really. So I'm a bit salty about loving the traditions and the people...b/c I do so from afar! Let me in dammit! Let me in! Chile, you done got me all phe-clempt! Now excuse me while I drown my sorrows in fried chicken and matzo ball soup...and a soda on the side!

Closure

One of the reasons I keep this here blog is to communicate with friends without having to have the same converstaion several times and without having to listen to anyone but myself. That being said, the past couple of weeks I have had the same conversations with people and one of them is about the idea of closure. What thre F is that about? You date someone and they don't act right and things fall apart and now you want to talk with them about it.

My response almost always? What the fuck is there to talk about!!?? Tell me. Nothing good can come of seeking closure. No one can give you closure. And if anyone can give it to you it's me and it's when I say shut up and move on. Real talk. Once you realize that so and so is a jerk you move on. You don't go asking them why were you a jerk to me? Why are you not that into me? What went wrong?

There are several possible outcomes and none of them are any good. They can either say you suck or they can say you are great, but... Who needs to hear any of that? They could also lie. They will most certainly sugar coat whatever their response is. Again, who needs any of it. You want hope and you don't need that!! The proof is in the pudding. It's over for whatever reason

Things just don't work out. It matters not what the reason is and you have to believe that things will work out with someone. It's your job to find that someone. There's certainly no reason to seek closure. It's just begging for punishment.

At the end of the day it's the end of the road. You can stand there looking confused and crazy or you can turn around and go the other fucking way.

Love you, mean it!