How to Survive the Holidays, the J&K way

Picture it: Christmas 2009. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

I'm alone in a new city, and there is ice and snow on the roads. My alarm wakes me at 6:30 am. I'm up early not to see what that fat bastard with the beard brought me (I'm certain he would have left me coal...and maybe some airplane sized bottles of booze to ease the pain), but to get ready for my own version of America's Next Top Model - the Geriatric edition. Yes chile, KB volunteered at a convalescent home Christmas morning. My task? Well, I'm glad you asked.

It was my job to get the residents "dolled up" for their holiday party and family visits. I must admit, I am not the best with the elderly population. I mean really really elderly people, that usually have health problems and are not fully functional. However, for whatever reason this project just seemed too good to pass up, despite my reservations. So off I went at 9am in full hair & makeup in a fierce red dress (with leopard print pumps of course) to the retirement home.

Honey, let me tell you...I met KelleBelle at 90! Her name is Irene (I call her "Reenie") and she is F-i-e-r-c-e. After I did her hair and makeup ("not too much rouge, I don't want to look like a floosie") it was time for nails. Reenie let me know that she sits with a lovely group of gentlemen everyday at dinner and tonight she was going to flash her "fancy fingernails" to the men and show off her gorgeous hands. Love her! She told me that she was married once, and her husband had long since passed, so she was very happy that she was assigned to her dining room table where she is the sole woman. "Why sit with women? I can sit with them anytime I want." Work.

The other residents were just as lovely (there was one scare when someone who was not "all there" took a nail polish remover bottle and almost drank it - I snatched it before she could take a sip) and it really made me get over my fear of the sick and elderly. And when I left those residents were ready for the AARP fall fashion runway. The event was such a hit they asked me to come back on a regular basis. Yay-man!

As I left the home, I was bursting with joy and was overwhelmed with a feeling of well, just good old fashioned happiness. After a lovely afternoon at a friend's family's house (where I got tipsy with his 85 year old grandma - awesome) I went home, did laundry, saw Precious (eh), chatted with mama belle and brother belle on the phone, and went to bed, completely content.

On Sunday I volunteered at a soup kitchen...chile had I known the volunteers go drinking afterwards and watch the Steelers game, I'da volunteered long time ago! Real talk.

Best. Christmas. Ever. Yes, I didn't see my family/old friends, but I still had a fantastic, fulfilling, happy time. From now on I am going to volunteer every holiday season. Especially if I can't go home.

So now Christmas is over and the anti-climactic of all anti-climactic events is upon us: New Year's Eve. Ugh and a half. I was beginning to feel blue as the day slowly approaches...I bought a super cute top/dress just in case I found something to do, but it wasn't looking good. There are parties going on but I have no one to go with as all of my friends in the 'Burgh are either not from here so they are home for the holidays or they will be working (DJ's deejaying, bartenders bartending, etc).

I began to make peace with the fact that I will likely go to work, come home, walk Kingston, and go to bed at 10pm, just like any other day. Boo! Then I remembered one NYE in Philly where I helped out a promoter buddy of mine at the club he was throwing a party at. I was the "guest list girl" and checked people off as they came into the party. It was the best! I still got to dress up, toast at midnight, party til 3, and went home with a couple hundred bucks. That's what I'm talkin' bout! Last year I greeted the new year miserable and out a few hundred bucks and I'll be damned if I repeat that mistake again.

So I asked one of my DJ friends if he knew of anyone/anywhere that needed some guestlist/door help on NYE since I had nothing to do. Turns out he needs help at his two gigs! All of the people who previously said they would assist him were drunk and when they sobered up reneged on their offer. He called me his lifesaver and I am now officially excited for NYE. Not only do I get to dress up and go to two events I wanted to attend anyway, I'll be able to help my buddy and go home with a lil change in my pocket.

And the church said, "Yay-men!"

Kids, this is likely my last post in 2009. I wanted to leave ya with the above stories to let you know that when life gives ya lemons...make lemonade. And add some vodka.

Have a great new years and I'll see you b's in 2010!

Smooches,

KelleBelle

Baby Makin' Music

One of my male bff's in Philly, "Mayo", and I were chatting about our respective "sexin'" CDs. Or in his words, his "Sackville" album. My playlist is aptly titled, "Business Time", as an ode to Flight of the Concords (if ya don't know - google and get with it).

Besides the usual joints (Sade, Janet, ToniToneTony (the last 4 minutes of "Anniversary" is the BEST), Jodeci, Mary, Marvin, etc.) we traded our more recent additions to the makeout mix: Trey Songz, Amerie, and so on.

But the conversation got interesting when we both admitted neither of us have played our makeout mixes as they were intended: with someone else in the room.

What in the ef? Mayo and I are both good catches (if I do say so myself) yet we haven't had the opportunity to get down to "business" in far too long. I asked him, "how is my love life gon' be in a recession?" Can it get a job please? State assistance? Somethin'.

For 2010 I'm hoping, like the economy, my love life will make a comeback. In the spirit of, "If you build it they will come" (get your mind out the gutter), help me make a new love playlist for the new year and post your song recs in the comments section. Consider it your first "mazel" of 2010.

Smooches,

KB

Kawfee Tawk with your host KB

Peeps were all a chatter at the coffee station today at work. News stories emerged over the holiday break that really piqued people's interest. A few have been the topic of discussion on this show. Have a read and discuss amongst yaselves.

1. Be careful who your jumpoff is.

http://jakeandkelly.blogspot.com/2009/07/random-thoughts.html

Chile, as soon as the news broke that Tiger Woods ran his car into a tree and a fire hydrant at 2:30 in the a.m., and his wife busted a window with a golf club, my mom and I looked at each other and said, "Mmmhmmm...he cheated!" I didn't buy that "she broke the window to help him get out of the car" line for a milisecond. Unless the car was submerged underwater, there is no circumstance besides being a pissed-off-Angela-Basset-in-Waiting-to-Exhale-scorned-wife that would cause that woman to break the car window. With a golf club.

2. Why'd they have to be black?

http://jakeandkelly.blogspot.com/2009/11/whyd-they-have-to-be-fill-in.html

a. When news reports emerged about a couple of party crashers at President Obama's first state dinner, I said my prayer, "Dear God, please don't let these crashers be black. Please!" Well, God heard me because the tacky fame whore of a couple are whiter than christmas. Phew!

b. A horrible tragedy occured in Washington State on Sunday, when four police officers were gunned down in cold blood by an ex-con. I still do not understand why he was not in prison. He was recently arrested for punching a sherrif's deputy in the face and is about to be or was recently prosecuted for child rape. What in the ef was he doing walking the streets?

I didn't say the prayer but was disappointed to see the culprit. A brotha. And man he really should have been in prison. His rap sheet is ridiculous. He should be in prison for his current criminal activity, but also, a very lengthy prison sentence he received at the age of 17 in 1989 was commuted by then Governor Mike Huckabee. Big mistake. Huge.

And ps: Mr. Huckabee, you really need to fire your spokesperson or whomever put the following statement on your website: "Should he be found to be responsible for this horrible tragedy, it will be the result of a series of failures in the criminal justice system in both Arkansas and Washington State." Um, you just called yourself a failure. Good luck with that 2012 presidential bid.

Self-Reflection through Judd Apatow

I know what you're thinking. What in hells bells does the writer/director of such hilarious jag-off (Pittsburgh talk for jackass) films as "The 40-Year-Old Virgin", "Pineapple Express", and "Knocked Up" have to do with self-reflection? Well, I'm about to tell ya.

Picture it: this afternoon, in my office. I stream NPR while I'm working for background noise (and of course news, information, and entertainment) and after I played all of today's current programs, I played a segment from "Fresh Air" that originally aired a couple of weeks ago. Judd was interviewed about his latest film, "Funny People", that is about to be released on DVD. So they're chatting about how true-to-life the film is - it's about a very lonely and somewhat depressed mega-star comedian that finds out he has a terminal illness and embarks on a journey of self-reflection (whilst nailing groupies and mentoring an up-and-coming comedian played by Seth Rogan).

Terry Gross, the host of "Fresh Air", asked Judd if he is lonely in real life like the character in the film portrayed by Adam Sandler. Judd (who has known Adam for years - they were roommates in LA when they both started out in their 20s) said Adam used to do this thing when they lived together where he would bring a chair into his bedroom and tell Judd to sit down and talk to him while he tried to fall asleep. He did this because he didn't want to be alone right up until the moment that he fell asleep.

He said Adam grew out of this need but he himself didn't. He explained that he does something similar to keep from being alone at night - he downloads all sorts of NPR programs onto his ipod and listens to them as he falls asleep because he needs another voice to fill his head in order to drown out his own voice/thoughts and keep him company as he tries to fall asleep.

I do the same thing! I know some folks play music softly or have white noise machines but I need to hear actual people talking for me to feel comfortable and be able to fall asleep. I used to always have the TV on (mama belle can't fall asleep without it on - thank goodness for the sleep timer) until my doctor in Philly a few years ago advised me not to have a TV in my bedroom and I haven't had one in there since. So the NPR app on my iphone was heaven sent. I listen to Morning Edition while I get dressed, and download all sorts of programs at night to listen to as I fall asleep.

I can't believe it took Judd Apatow to make me realize what my NPR bedtime stories really are: a substitute for a companion. I have struggled with sleep problems for years and I've always known the only natural (non-medication) cure: another body! I sleep like a baby when I have a beau to share the bed with. Unfortunately, Kingston does not provide the same security and companionship as a human male. Actually, he's kind of a jerky sleeper. He snuck into my bed the other night and I only realized he was in there because I almost fell off the bed - that jerk pushed me to the side so he could get more comfortable in the middle of my huge bed.

Meanwhile, I'm quite cross with all of the doctors, sleep therapists, etc. that over the years have never come close to the enlightening observation that I discovered today.

Mr. Apatow, a tip of my hat.

-KB

(Ed. Note: I found the above lightbulb picture on a blog called "Kellifornia Dreaming". I'm totally biting that title and am mad at myself for not coming up with it!)

I get it from my mama

No, I'm not referring to the killer curves I inherited from Mama Belle or her unyielding adoration for copious amounts of accessories. The old adage, "remove one accessory before you leave the house" did NOT exist in the KB household. Not by a long shot.

The title of this post is in reference to little mom-isms that I have caught myself doing:

1. Expressing disdain.

"Beg your pardon?" "Excuse me?" Please note the preceding expressions must always accompany a slightly tilted head to the right, raised right eyebrow, and left hand on left hip. Also the "a" in pardon and "u" in excuse are usually lengthened for emphasis. "Excuuse me?" That's all it takes for someone to know I mean business.

2. Accepting/tolerating dramatic friends.

I don't know if I'm getting more patient as I mature or what, but I have noticed that I am the go-to friend for my gals that are constantly in a state of catastrophe (real or made up) either personal, professional, metaphysical, etc. One dramatic diva friend of mine told me recently that she needed me, specifically, to vent to because I'm the friend that listens and doesn't tell her what to do. In all honesty, I listen because I find her drama often times entertaining, and it makes me feel good about my relatively drama-free existence. The reason why I don't tell her what to do is because I know she wouldn't listen anyway, so why waste my breath? And if it makes her feel better to drone on and on about some silly boy or lame co-worker, yap away. I'm all ears.

My mother has an amazing ability to accept the most trifling of friends. I'll describe two in particular which I still cannot believe she has remained dear friends with over the years.

The first is a friend she has known for over 30 years. Over that time, said friend has on average been approximately 3-5 hours late for anything and everything. When I was around 14, my mom was almost late for a flight because this friend was two hours late picking her up to go to the airport. I asked my mom how she could still be friends with this person? She said, "Ya know what Kel, years ago I had to decide if I could look past this person's faults and accept them, flaws and all. I decided our friendship was worth it, so I deal with her flaws and don't let them get to me." Usually, my mom just tells said friend to arrive 4 hours before the actual start/pick up time, and that usually works.

The other friend is basically a meaner, bougie, black version of "Ma" on the Golden Girls. She talks smack about everyone and anyone and knows everything about anything. She's loud, and just sooo extra. How extra? This b will rock her floor length white fur coat to church in April. ps: It's usually around 70-75 degrees in April in LA. But my mom somewhow tolerates the extra and her mouth and accepts her for who she is. Which is a mean witch in my opinion. I usually brush off her meddling ("I just don't understand why you are still single."), and when she starts bragging about her kids or fluffing up her resume I just feign excitement and pretend I'm impressed. What else does she have to do? She's a widow living in a retirement community. So brag away Sophia.

3. Being prepared to the nth degree.

When I travel, even for two days, I will bring no less than 14 possible outfits, a few frocks that I think maybe a friend would like to borrow, every hair and makeup tool you can think of, a few extra tracks just in case, and every toiletry you can think of. I'm also the one who, when we're out at a club, restaurant, etc. am the go-to gal for anything: a safety pin, nail file, lotion, band-aid, anti-bacterial hand sanitizer, lip gloss, bonding glue, you get it.

My mother arrived last night to spend thanksgiving with me this week. What did she pack? Chile, she opened up her suitcase and I was literally staring at the pantry in our house in LA. Who packs Thyme? Or chicken bouillon? Or a can of cream of mushroom soup? Or (and this one takes the cake) reynolds wrap?! My mom. I asked her what she was thinking, as I had about half of the supplies she packed. She said, "Well, I know you don't cook often so I thought I'd bring some supplies just in case." Gotta love her.

Meanwhile, I read yesterday that a tavern in Manhattan is serving an alcoholic turkey on Thanksgiving. The bird will be infused with 100-proof fruit flavored vodka (peach, rasberry, cherry, and apple) for three days prior to roasting. The gravy will also be laced with liquor.

Sorry moms, I'm going to NYC on Thursday.

Happy Turkey Day everyone!

-KelleBelle

Do Opposites Really Attract?

It's getting a bit too heavy in here, no? So let's lighten up the joint a bit.

I've been having some great convos with my main b's lately about "soul mates", monogamy, dating, marriage, yada yada yada. After all of these great convos I'm always left wondering why I never seem to find anyone I really vibe with. I mean, legitimately vibe with. Not a fleeting flirty fling. Then I went through my mental rolodex of gents that I legitimately vibe on the platonic tip with but never consider as a possible romantic suitor because there is something that is just too big to get over. A deal-breaker, if you will.

One of my main b's asked me if perhaps I should re-evaluate deal-breakers and see if they truly are obstacles that I can't get over, or if I just need to get over myself. In typical KB style, I've compiled a list of potential deal-breakers that may prevent a pair to go from friends to something more.

1. Religion.

I'm not talking about the "I have a cross tattooed on my right bicep underneath the penn state mascot" kind of religion. I mean, pray before each meal, in church/temple/mosque every week, and can recite passages from their religious text of choice on a dime, kind of religion.

I'm definitely not against anyone with the above characteristics. However, what I have found is that for the most part, people that share these attributes usually follow a lifestyle that is not compatible with mine.

First of all, I like my weekends. To sleep in, to watch cartoons, to work out, whatever. I don't like having anything on my plate that I have to commit to on a weekly basis.

Second, I have found that those who are religious (not just spiritual - but truly denominational) usually have a tinge of the judgy-wudgy-was-a-bear in them. Or more than a tinge and straight up judge folks.

Third, I think I simply swear and drink too much to be with anyone that religious. I'm a card carrying heathen but at the end of the day I try to be generous, thoughtful, and non-judgmental. And I pray, just not sure to who (or is it whom?).

2. Sobriety

This is a biggie for me. Probably even more so than religion. (Now THAT is some heathenry right there.) I can definitely date someone who doesn't drink. But I'd have to date them only during daytime hours (and not during football season) because I feel completely uncomfortable drinking around sober people. I suppose it's a control issue: if I'm not completely in control of my motor skills, you shouldn't be either.

I try not to look down at drunk folks when I am sober, but it's hard not to laugh when you see someone slurring their words and swaying like a tree, yet denying they're drunk as a skunk. But the thing is at least I've been there so I'm not judging them. Because I get it. But if I had never been three sheets to the wind, I'd likely look down on them and shake my head in judgment.

A friend of mine suggested that I stop drinking and then I'd get rid of that deal-breaker. Instead, I got rid of that friend and their nonsense talking.

3. Ethnicity/Race

Chile, we talk about this one too much already on this show so I won't go too much into it. As a mixy myself I've seen the drawbacks to the swirl situation. Example A: I have no relationship at all with the kosher vanilla side of my ancestry. But honestly at the end of the day, and I know this sounds completely corny, I really think love will conquer all. I mean, real -mary j. blige kind of- love. Not infatuation, settling/complacency, or lust. If I actually vibed with someone hard core, I wouldn't care if they were turquoise with pink polka dots. Just don't put your hand in my hair and keep me laughing and my cocoa butter supply stocked.

4. Fitness/Nutrition

Can a gym rat and a couch potato really stay together til the end? I'm not sure about this one. Sharing a healthy, active lifestyle in common can really bring a couple together. I love exercising with my beau when I have one. There's nothing like jogging together or playing basketball and working up a sweat with your amore that strengthens a bond.

Also, the level of activity can be a reflection of one's priorities. And hey, if they have other priorities (an extremely demanding job/a dependant/an old injury/etc) that come before their physical fitness, I understand, but I know -for me- how I treat my body is a pretty good indicator of how I'm treating myself on the inside.

Then again, some folks don't use ben&jerry's as their coping mechanism so obviously there are other indicators of one's self worth/mental health status than their physical fitness. I know more than a few gorgeous, fit folks who are an emotional mess and treat their bodies like hell.

5. Money/Education

I'm combining these two because they're often interrelated. Can a park avenue diva stay true to a broke brotha who's 35 and still working on his "album"? That's a toughie. I know recently I've heard of how the economic crisis has torn couples apart, or at the very least have put a strain on their relationship. But on the outset, does money really matter? I think earning potential at the outset is more important than what you actually have in the bank at that moment. It also depends on what kind of lifestyle each party is striving for.

I have no problem dating a grad student, a self-taught entrepreneur who's saving up to start their own business, a teacher, a community activist, etc. But if you're knocking on 40, still chasing an unrealistic dream (dude, the cook-your-own-pizza-in-an-oven shop is not gonna happen), living beyond your meager means, and are living in student housing in betwixt couch surfing? Um, I gotta say the magic 8 ball is not looking so good.

Meanwhile, watch I marry up a sober greek orthodox muslim morbidly obese aspiring juggler who still lives at home.

Smooches,

KelleBelle

Newsdaze

Hey kids. I've been an old bitty lately, following a ho-hum schedule of work, gym, sleep. Work, gym, sleep. Rinse and repeat. But I've been keeping up to date (as I am known to do) with the goings-on in the country and the world (hopefully this week will be easy on the anti-dark skin tomfoolery that plagued the airwaves last week). A few noteworthy news stories have captured my attention recently. Two of them somber, and one very inspiring and downright amazing (I'll save the best for last):

1. Ex-Congressman Jefferson receives 13 years in prison.

http://www.latimes.com/news/la-na-jefferson-sentence14-2009nov14,0,3620712.story

This story caught my attention not just because of the scandal factor (hiding bribery cash in the freezer) but because I went to law school with his daughter. We were not close friends, but cordial (as most black students were on the HLS campus).

I looked at the Jefferson family with envy as a real-life Huxtable clan: of the 5 daughters, 3 went to Harvard college and Harvard Law School, one is currently in medical school, and the other is a documentary filmmaker. Talk about giving the Cosby kids a run for their money (did Denise ever get a steady job? Or Vanessa?). But alas, everything is not always what they seem. I'm not saying that the family must take on the shame of their convicted patriarch, but it will be tough for any of them to distance themselves from his conviction.

I didn't know about his sibling's (and one niece's) scandal! Making this family's business even more juicy and prime for a Law&Order "ripped from the headlines" episode. See the family section: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_J._Jefferson)

2. Chicago School Board President's body found in river; death ruled a suicide.

http://www.suntimes.com/news/24-7/1886301,michael-scott-body-river-education-111509.article

Possibly another case of abuse of authority, or simply the pressure of it all - even an allegation of such abuse, proved too much. Awful.

3. Finally, a story to turn that frown upside down!

Triumph of a Dreamer: Any time anyone tells you that a dream is impossible, any time you're discouraged by impossible challenges, just mutter this mantra: Tererai Trent.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/15/opinion/15kristof.html?emc=eta1

One of the truly amazing aspects of her story is that she managed to find a second husband during her journey. Work! Real talk: the strength of the human spirit never ceases to amaze me. This woman is the picture of strength, love, and perseverance. And I love the community support she received, both in Zimbabwe and in Oklahoma. Big-ups to the homie at Walmart. That's love.

Dear Sammy Sosa: I cant. Sincerely, KelleBelle

But I will, for the entertainment of our readers.

What in the skin bleaching hell is wrong with you? Did you really think your new Casper the Self-Hating Ghost skin tone was just going to fly under the radar? If you really wanted to keep your skin bleaching game under wraps, you shouldn't have done the following:

1. Bleach your skin. What in the ef.

2. If you insist on bleaching your skin, do not choose a minority centered event to make your new light skindded debut. Why the Latin Grammys? Why? Que lastima.

3. Do not try to explain away your new fair hue by blaming it as a side effect on a "skin-rejuvenation" treatment or the flash of the cameras. No dice.

a. You don't need skin rejuvenation. You are black (yes I know he is Dominican, but I'm speaking of his skin tone here). You won't crack. Even after years of playing baseball in the sun. And you're young! 40 years young. Your PR guy told you to blame it on skin rejuvenation treatments didn't he? Fire him asap.

b. Those cameras must have a flash brighter than the surface of the sun to make you that damn light. B please.

4. The light skin coupled with the GREEN eye contacts seal the deal. It's a wrap. If you had any chance to deny a skin lightening/self-hate accusation, it went down the drain when you put those fake eyes in. You couldn't just retire quietly eh? Instead, you decide to make a run for Smokey Robinson's money. Shake my damn head.

5. I will not call you out for your konk because you seemed to rock that hairdon't pre-skin lightening. But it doesn't help your case.

Sammy joins a loooong list of black celebrities that have gone the skin bleaching route:

1. MJ.

2. The rest of the Jacksons save for Rebbie and Janet (although I bet she's emptied a tube or two of Ambi in her lifetime).

3. Lil' Kim.

Who am I missing?

-KB

UPDATE (11/11): Just as I published this here post, I read the following story of a mixed-race contestant on "Oriental Idol" (jeez) in China. Oy to the vey. See what you're doing Sammy?! Not helping this lil lady's self-esteem at all. I may take my weave out as a sign of solidarity.

Check it: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=120311417

UPDATE (11/12): Apparently this is anti-dark skin week. What in the flippin' hell. I listened to this NPR story on the way into work this morning, and one particular interviewee presented an interesting explanation on the obsession with white (or light) skin:

In India, Skin-Whitening Creams Do Brisk Business

Listen here:http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=120340646

Why'd they have to be (fill in ethnicity/race here)?!

Hey kiddos. I've written about the collective sigh of relief or heavy moan of disappointment when a tragedy occurs and the culprit is found to be a member of one's community, or not.

See: http://jakeandkelly.blogspot.com/2007/11/whyd-they-have-to-be-black.html

The D.C. Sniper (scheduled to be executed this week), Kanye West's mother's plastic surgeon, M.J.'s doctor, etc., were all the subjects of prayers by the black community hoping the suspects were not black, and then sadly, taking on a bit of the shame the suspects took on once their identities became known.

Last week, two shooting sprees occurred and both shooters appear to be minorities. Not black though. Phew! That's not funny. But real talk, they are minorities, one a Muslim Jordanian-American, and one a Latino man. One of my favorite NPR personalities, Michele Martin, talked about the ethnicities of the gunmen, and why it matters. Take a look at a few excerpts from the story:

Ethnicity Matters, Especially If You're the Gunman

"Finally, just a few more words about last week's twin tragedies: the shooting at Fort Hood, Texas, and the following day in Orlando, Florida. Both of those put me in the mind of a habit many of us had when I was growing up...We would run to the television when we saw a black person on it, literally, run and call everybody to the set to watch...

...it was considered such a rarity and of such importance, it was assumed everyone would want to know about it, unless, of course, it was something embarrassing, like a black person being arrested for something. Which brings me to the other thing we would all do when I was growing up: We would pray - sometimes silently, but very often out loud - that if something bad had happened, a crime or some other mishap, that no black person was involved. It was assumed that success was individual but failure or disgrace was collective...

...So, I think I understand how some of my fellow citizens feel right now as they watch the news unfold about a Muslim Army psychiatrist who allegedly massacred more than a dozen of his colleagues and wounded more than 30 others. And then, the following day, a Latino man shot up his former workplace. And this follows, of course, the shooting at Virginia Tech, where a student who'd immigrated from Korea shot and killed dozens of fellow students and faculty...

...I can understand how members of these groups felt then and now, a sense of anger and shame. The shock of recognition that they too might have shared some of these assailants' resentments at one point about small or not-so-small slights and then the revulsion that someone would take innocent lives because of those resentments. Then there's the wondering: How do my fellow Americans see me now?

Can I just tell you I can also see where some Americans are puzzled by all this? ...they wonder what on earth minorities in this country have to complain about. They either don't believe minorities experience these slights or wonder why those slights loom so large...

I just know that I hope when my children see that a black person does something wrong, they'll say that's a shame, not their shame."

For the entire story, either in text or as audio, go to: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=120238969

Whatever the ethnicity of the gunman, hopefully there won't be any more shooting sprees.

Smooches,

KB

My anonymity called, it misses me.

I quit facebook today.

I warned my close friends in August to not get used to me being on facebook again because I'd be quitting sometime around Halloween. Yet, I still caught a lot of flack.

"Why?!!! A stalker?"

"Nooooo!!! Come back!!!"

"Lol. A mess." (-Jake)

I even got a reply that one facebook-loving friend had, unbeknownst to me, quit facebook a few weeks ago. I asked her why and she said she was "over the lack of human contact and nosiness of it all." Which is a part of my reasoning for never staying on the 'book too long.

I find it disconcerting when people make important announcements and conduct business on facebook. What is more bothersome is when people use it as a passive aggressive tool to communicate your distaste for someone. Not that I have been the target of such tomfoolery, but I've seen it. And I too, am over it.

I've written about my distaste for facebook before:

http://jakeandkelly.blogspot.com/2008/05/update-10-things-i-dont-like-about.html

http://jakeandkelly.blogspot.com/2008/04/10-things-i-dont-like-about-facebook.html

But this go 'round I realized one positive aspect about it that I hadn't previously - reconnecting with folks from my past that I was actually happy to see again. Oh crap, I forgot to send my old junior high school pal that found me on facebook my email address so we can still hang out when I go home for the holidays. Ah well. She looked a bit rough anyway.

Anywhether, FB served its purpose: I was able to update my friends about my new location, and I made a few new friends in Pittsburgh. I found out about many events going on in the city that I suppose I wouldn't know about had I not been on facebook. But then again, I really didn't attend any of those events anyway. So...it's quittin' time. I did enough self-promotion and f*ckery to last me a lifetime. The friends I want to keep communicating with already have my phone number and e-mail address. And I can find out the goings on from the city paper. Also, I need to start REALLY burning the midnight oil at work, so the less distractions, the better.

Lastly, I am not condemning the use of the 'book by others. I know I just prefer life without it.

Fin.

I mean, smooches!

KB

Back in the Days...

Jake has smoked his fair share of reefer. Maybe a bit more than a fair share. Yesterday, I decided that it’s time for me to quit the smoking of the reefer. I am getting too old and it is getting too old. So, yesterday I took my last hit. About an hour ago I searched my apartment for any pipe, grinder or bag that might have some remaining pot dust. Epic fail. This is going to be rough.

I am sitting here reminiscing about my crack head years and it made me think about all my dealers from years past and how I came to know them. Ahhh memories.

First, let me say that I used to just be a casual smoker. Smoke with friends, smoke whatever I could get my hands on, but rarely did I have my own stash and definitely did not have a dealer. This all changed one day when my next door neighbor, a woman who I had intentionally avoided for several months in the tradition of NYC, got drunk and forced her way into my apartment and my life. We had previously wondered how the only two negroes in the building ended up on the same floor across the hall from each other, but after spending some time together we realized how much we had in common and that it was probably God and not the racists apartment managers that made us neighbors.

One thing we had in common? We both liked to smoke pot on occasion, but had nowhere to get any. So, began the friendship and the thing that would bond us for years: weed and ridiculousness. We immediately began trying to figure out how to get some reefer. Anyone who knows us must know exactly where we would start, right? The doorman!!!

It was a drunken night when she convinced me that the path to a weed man started with the doorman. Afterall, the doorman was common folk there to do whatever we wanted, so the question seemed reasonable and perfectly natural even, so long as it was me and not she who placed the call. In the end it worked. We ended up with Shabba! That’s such a fitting name for a drug dealer don’t you think? Shabba was one of those Africans that’s not really cute, but ridiculously hot? Okay, this one wasn’t ridiculously hot, but I (we- admit it bitch) wanted to bang him. He was an okay guy, but he didn’t last very long. The theory goes that he got locked up because his number stopped working.

Then came the dude after Shabba. Don’t know his name, but he was the sequel in the series of doorman supplied weed men. This time, neighbor and I decide that it’s probably best to ask the Black doorman and not the Hispanic doorman because, well it just makes sense. This guy wasn’t cute, was shotty on the delivery and didn’t last very long. The theory goes that he too got locked up.

Ultimately, it was decided that doormen supplied dealers were not the most reliable source. First, they are minorities and thus prone to get locked up. Second, delivery gets delayed by inter-borough traveling. Third, they tend to nickel and dime you and I am too classy for that.
Then one brisk fall afternoon I happened to be shopping in the city with my main gay and we found this odd woman in a thrift store. She was a Sue Sylvester, Jackie from workout looking lesbian with tattoos and under-arm hair. Real scary. But some how we ended up talking about reefer and how organic reefer is better than regular. I told her I had quit smoking for a while to prove I wasn’t addicted, but she convinced me that I did not have an addiction, but instead had a habit. I was a habitual pot smoker. Whatevs lesbian, we left.

I get back home and explain the story to neighbor and she decides that this lady is the perfect person to solve our weed man problem. Thus the story of the EPIC JOURNEY!! The journey was epic because me and neighbor never left our apartment and when we did leave we didn’t go further than the dumplings store 3.5 blocks away. We had once considered going to the Bed, Bath & Beyond that was about 8 blocks away, but thought better of it. This would require that we travel over 6 blocks, but that included long avenues. Actually, it would require more than that because I had no idea where the thrift store was. It was nowhere near wear I originally thought so we ended up walking half way and then catching a cab, but in route we encountered a man skipping through traffic, another man banging on cars in traffic and a man who we were certain was a flasher. (Trench coat and no pants is not okay). In any event, the walk/cab ride seems like it took hours, but may have only taken minutes.

We show up at the thrift store only to find the giant lesbian lady with a giant killer parakeet on her shoulder. I thought we would die that very day by that bird. It made some crazy noises directed at me and I was convinced that the thing hated me because I was a man, but it could have been the bright ass shirt I was wearing. In any event, we would have to pretend shop for 20 minutes until the bird and its owner left the store leaving us a moment to ask ma’am for her weed contact.

It works. She gives us a number and says when you call say you got the number from Jane, and are friends of Sarah Lee. To this day we have no idea if Sarah Lee is a person (there are no damn Sarah Lees in NYC) or if that was code, but we called and said exactly what we were told. Weed man was there within the hour. But, you should have seen the crtackhead dance we did when we got the number. Can you picture me and neigbor literally arm in arm, dancing in circles in the middle of Chelsea? Well, picture it!!

To our surprise it was a old white man! He would deliver to us for over a year without incident and without delay. No small talk, no BS, just business. Although, once he asked to use my bathroom. Dude is like the Tiger Woods of drug dealing. I miss him. I will always miss him.
But alas, I moved away! To a small college town, which is known for having good weed and on my second day in town…I found myself a weed man. I figured I would just go to my local gay bar and find someone who looked like a pot head and go from there. That failed, but on my way out of the bar a man asked me if I wanted to drive around with him in his car and smoke a blunt. I literally gagged!!! I was like, ummm, excuse me sir? How dare you. I am not getting in a car with a strange man! But, I’ll walk and smoke witcha!

There’s so much more to this story, but this blog is already too long. Stay tuned for the completion of this story…

Love you, mean it!

Jake & Kelly Get Preggers

Jokes.

But in real news, a post on Essence.com brought up an old idea that W.E.B. Dubois first brought up in 1903. Basically the notion that successful, educated people (black women in particular) should procreate more. You can infer why.

Here's a snippet of the post:

http://www1.essence.com/relationships/men/articles/succesful_black_women_are_we_obligated_to_reproduce/

A curious idea was posed to me, and by extension, all Black women like me. A
woman, Dominique (not her real name), suggested that it was my duty as an
educated, sensible African-American woman to get married and procreate.

DUH!

I mean hello, who doesn't want to re-create the Obamas, the Huxtables, or the Winslow clan on Family Matters (save for Judy...yikes)?

My problem is the idea that we are obligated to reproduce. I think (as does Dorothy, who makes some great points in her comment to this post) the obligation should be to support our community, and not necessarily to get knocked up right this minute. I'd love to reproduce but since that isn't happening nan time soon I will support the children that are in existence right now.

Also, there is no guarantee that successful, educated parents will raise successful, educated children. And just because someone is not educated does not mean they will fail as a parent. Not at all.

However, I couldn't help but think about a recent conversation my mother and I had. She is with our family in North Carolina and Philly this week and of course she gave me the latest family drama report. One cousin is at the age of 37 a mother of 5 (I'm not going to say how many fathers, but it's more than one), grandmother of 3, and has never held a steady job. Which isn't surprising - she has been quite busy with all them kids, and TLC ain't handing out reality shows in the 'hood. Another cousin, who as a senior in high school, just had his second child...with a different girl than the mother of his first child, born earlier this year.

Meanwhile, my mother is grandchildless and her children are arguably the most successful of the bunch.

What in the ef.

My question is, if it's my "duty" to procreate and create a more well-rounded African-American community...does that mean I have to get knocked up by a black man? Have ya seen the statistics? What about a halfer like me? Or a very tan Mediterranean man? I can't give any guarantees, but I'll try my best. In the meantime, I'll stick to being a positive role model to young sisters and brothers (of any race) and breaking stereotypes along the way.

Smooches,

KB

Kulture Klash

As y'all know, KB can kick it with just about anybody. Growing up in a black household in a white neighborhood and being mistaken for hispanic or asian on the regular, I can pretty much roll with any squad and feel comfy.

But sometimes little things remind me of our differences.

Scenario #1: Diet.

I was at a lovely "young professionals" mixer on Wednesday and as we were noshing on the delectable veggies and dips, I mentioned to one of my kickball teammates (white woman) that I never knew of or ate hummus until I was a junior in college, where it was served at a reception.

She almost fell to the floor. "What?! You never had hummus until college? How is that possible?" After a somewhat awkward pause (on my part) I replied, "I was raised in a black household. We don't eat hummus." She twisted her face, thought about it, and said, "Oh okay, I see." And then we talked about it a bit and she mentioned that as a kid growing up in Detroit she noticed that black Muslims ate hummus, but she can't recall non-Muslim black folks gettin' in on the chickpea game.

Scenario #2: The club.

A friend of mine is in town this week and we went out on Monday night. First stop was a lovely jazz lounge where the crowd was oh say 60% black, 35% white, and 5% other. We had a great time and chatted with practically everyone there, accepted a few numbers (teehee), and listened to some great music.

Then we went to a "club" on the other side of town.

The crowd was about 90% white, 6% other, and 4% black. I counted the number of black folks: me, my girl, and two dudes that clearly were NOT there to talk to black girls. Which is fine, whatever floats your boat (and they were fug anyway). But what wasn't fine was the feeling that I often feel (and my dark chocolate girls feel more often so they tell me) when I go to a predominately white venue: invisibility.

I may get a quick stare or two, but rarely am I approached. Once in a while a brave (read: liquid courage) white soul will try to holler, but I usually have to make eye contact and give the green light to approach as if saying with my eyes, "Don't worry, I'm white-friendly and only mildly offensive." But I've seen my girls really feel awkward and put in a sour mood when they walk into a joint and feel as if no one is even acknowledging their presence. And let's be real: if you're single and go to the club, you're trying to holler or get hollered at. And whether we like it or not the fact is that the majority of people date inside of their race. (KB doesn't discriminate but I do tend to side with men with whom I don't have to explain the necessities of cocoa butter and hair grease.)

My DJ friend is having a big party tonight at a new club but I know what the deal is going to be...invisibility to the nth degree. Instead, my bff and I are going to stick to the plan and go to the lounge again where they are having a more chocolate friendly crowd.

I'd go to the other party and still have fun but I know already that my friend will not, and I want everyone in my squad to be nappy and happy.

Smooches!

KelleBelle

Kurrent Events

I'm really getting tired of the disrespect President Obama has been receiving. It's one thing for gun-toting inbred hicks to throw some hate, but a congressman? Bush would never receive such rudeness. Perhaps because Dems will talk about you, but mostly behind your back via liberal media. Trash talking is going to happen but don't be tacky about it. "You lie"? That's not even a complete sentence. As Thembi put it, the correct phrasing is, "You A lie." Moron.

Drug abuse/addiction has been in the headlines lately. DJ AM's relapse and subsequent overdose and then the awful video of Maia Campbell making the rounds on the internets have made addiction a definite water cooler topic. I've always been a fan of A&E's "Intervention" and other drug related documentaries ("Cocaine Nation" on the Discovery channel is really good). I started to think about why some people are prone to addiction/abuse and some aren't. Then I thought of what was taught in school. Remember, "D.A.R.E."? I didn't learn much in those classes - except when the police officer brought in replicas of street drugs and we got to look at them. I doubt the program had a huge effect on me. But you know what did? Movies. I had a full year of nightmares after watching Chris Tucker overdose in "Dead Presidents." Tack on another two years of nightmares after watching Chris Rock get cracked out in New Jack City. That scared me the hell straight. That's what kids should be watching in health class. Bump "Breakfast Club." (I love the movie but I really didn't see the point of watching it as a 15 year old in health class and then being asked which character I identified with. My teacher was not amused with my response: "No one.")

In kidnapping news...I'm still in shock over the recovery of Jaycee Dugard. What a nightmare. She's jacked for life, as are the kids she had with her kidnapper. I'm most in shock that the kidnapper has plead not guilty. Dude, what the eff. It's a wrap.

With the recent news that those weirdos the Duggards are now on baby 19, I may have to co-sign a limit on the number of babies a woman can birth. I mean really. 19? And now that those nitwits the Gosselin's and the Octo-mom have made having a litter of children profitable, I really may co-sign a baby making limit. In fact, I think Jaycee Dugard's mother should be able to pick out a Duggard kid and get to raise one as a way to make up for the lost time due to Jaycee's kidnapping.

Speaking of stealing kids, I may steal from a kid. The swine flu vaccine is going to be made available free to new york city public school kids. I may have to pop into PS 11 and swipe a shot real quick. It's funny, I didn't really take the risk of the flu seriously until Rachel Maddow admitted on the Jimmy Fallon show that she had it. I figure if a smart, hygienic (she looks like she carries hand sanitizer in her murse), person like Rachel can get it, I can.

In TV news...Tyra, I'm so through with you. Wig, weave, "natural," jheri, just shut it and host top model. Thanks. Entourage has been predictable and boring. I still don't get the whole vampire thing - True Blood and those Twilight flicks...um, yeah, I don't really eff with vampires except around Halloween. But enjoy. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia finally premieres next week. It's about damn time.

In sporting news...I think because I'm now a resident of one of the most football obsessed cities in the country, I'm really into football this year. NFL, College, even fantasy. I even started to learn the player's names. Can't wait to watch the Steelers, Eagles (mmm Michael Vick), and of course my beloved Trojans.

Late add (9/14): The VMAs. First off, they still have that show? I thought it was cancelled. Or maybe I just have ignored it the past few years. I've never viewed a VMA telecast in one sitting. I'll catch a snippet here and there during the gazillion replays. I caught Kanye's tackiness, Beyonce's graciousness, and a chubb rock Janet Jackson paying tribute to her bro. Um, is it just me or were her moves not as crisp as usual? I think with her added weight her dance moves just aren't as tight as when she has the 6 pack. And is it just me or was it kind of shady to release a single after the show? Cashing in on her bro's dedication...how very Joe Jackson of her.

Ellen is going to be on Idol. I haven't watched the show since the large black man beat out the weird looking white fellow, so I really don't care.

Tyler Perry has caused much melee by allegedly being interested in Beyonce to star in his film adaptation of "For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf". Bey, please don't make me turn on you. I am a huge fan but please, please don't ruin this important piece. Keep making exercise class soundtracks and crappy clothes. I beg you.

Smooches,

KB

The Real Me

While tying my shoes for the third time at the gym the other day, I started to think about quirky little things about me that no one knows about. It got me thinking about my friends and what little oddities they keep hidden from the world. I found out that one friend has an unusual reaction when she goes to yoga class...a very sensual reaction if you know what I mean! Yowza.

In typical KB fashion, I've compiled a list of things you may not know about me:

1. I never learned how to tie my shoes. For whatever reason, I was never formally taught how to tie my laces. As a young lass, I would look over at my brother when he tied his and tried to copy his method. I don't think I copied it correctly because around the age of 12 a friend noticed how I tied my shoes and commented about my process. She said she had never seen anyone tie their shoes like I did. I shrugged it off and kept it moving. I mean, my laces were tied so who cares about the process? Like a hot dog factory, you're only concerned with the end result, don't worry about how the final product was made. However, recently I've noticed that I have to re-tie my shoes more often than I assume I should. In this day of you-tube, I may have to check out a video on proper shoe tying, and finally learn how to tie my shoes. And yes, I'm knocking on 30 years of age.

2. When I look up the customer service contact numbers for various services (utilities, etc.), I'm often tempted to call the hearing impaired number just to see what happens. I know, I'm completely going to hell for even thinking about this. I've never called but boy am I tempted.

3. I never liked peanut butter growing up until I found out, as a teen, that it was extremely high in fat. After finding out its fat content and the need to limit one's intake, I was hooked on the stuff. Do yourself a favor and check out Smucker's crustless PB&J sammiches in the frozen food section of the grocery store. Yum.

4. I'm extremely flexible. My arms can stretch back farther than most, often eliciting a shriek from bystanders when I stretch, lift a barbell, or during yoga class. The flexibility of course came in handy as a javelin thrower in college. And also when I need to grab something behind me and I don't feel like turning around.

5. I probably shouldn't tell you this since someone out there may use this against me as a torture technique, but what the hell. I'm extremely - extremely - ticklish. How ticklish you ask? During a pedicure I once kicked the lady in the chin while she massaged my foot. I have to hold onto the chair for dear life when she's scrubbing the bottom of my feet. Also, when most people cry and scream in pain during a bikini wax, I laugh like crazy. It does hurt but I'm so sensitive and ticklish just a touch on my thigh will send me into a giggle fit. Don't judge me, I'm not a sado-masochist. I swear! My mom said she was really ticklish growing up but lost it when she was around 30. So I've got a couple more years of the inappropriate bursts of laughter.

6. I'm slightly obsessed with numbers. I don't want to go really into it in this public setting, but let's just say I don't really celebrate the new year at 12:00am. I raise my glass at 12:34...and 56 seconds. And if I happen to glance at a clock and it happens to be 12:34, I grin from ear to ear and make a wish. The key is that you can't stare at the time until it turns to 12:34, you have to catch it. I've been doing this since I first learned to tell time. Also, I've felt very lucky to live in an era with so many great date sequences: 7/7/07, 6/7/08, 5/7/09, etc. Go ahead and make fun. It's my thing.

7. I had to add another item, to make the list a solid 7 (my favorite number). Can't end at 6, that's just not right. (See above.)

Your turn. What are some things about you that no one knows about?

Smooches,

KelleBelle

KelleBelle and the City

Picture it: New York, August 2009. KB heads to NYC to reconnect with her fam: besties from law school, Boston, and Philly.

We hit a few bars on Friday night and it's full of pictures, cocktails, weaves, and giggles. Between bar #1 and #2, I lose my iPhone. Tragic, right? As soon as we arrived at bar #2, I checked my ridiculously small purse and immediately noticed the absence of my phone. My heart dropped and everyone gave me a sympathetic look. My one friend told me that I better hope I left it at bar #1 and not in the cab, because if it's in the cab, it's gone forever. Absolutely no chance of recovery. We called bar #1 and no phone. I began to make mental lemonade: no biggie, I'll hop to an Apple/AT&T store in the morning and get another one; I just got this new phone so I was still missing a lot of contacts anyway; at least I have my health...yada yada.

Ten minutes go by...and my friend receives a text...from me! The angel who found my phone said he'd leave it with his doorman and he completely understands the heartbreak of losing your iPhone, as he had done so a few weeks ago in L.A.

Everyone almost fainted in shock at the turn of events. I simply smiled and thought, of course my phone was found by a good person. Why? Because I'm blessed! I've told y'all how well everything has been going lately. So well that I'm trying not to become paranoid that something awful is on the horizon. Just letting the good karma flow...so when we scooped up my phone on our way to bar #3, I was glowing like a bulb. Just enjoying the good fortune and thanking the heavens for my blessings (and leaving a note to the good samaritan that if he ever finds himself in need of assistance in Pittsburgh or LA, let me know).

Bar #3 was the best: it was as if I had stepped into my favorite hip hop lounge in Philly! Apparently it was the first night of a new residence for one of my fav Philly dj's and half the city came with. Ran into some old law school classmates...and met a cutie!

Can you say best night ever?

My bff and I were up mid-morning on Saturday to take a jog around lovely Brooklyn and afterwards headed to the MJ Birthday party in the park. I was a bit underwhelmed by the lack of "show" - there weren't any vendors or performances or entertainment...just a bunch of folks standing in a field, sometimes being addressed by Spike Lee, Ed Lover, and I believe Rev. Sharpton.

But I was really there to see my buddies, which was the best. Afterwards I parted with my BK crew and kicked it with my Philly pals who were in the city. We spent the rest of the evening kicking it with their Philly film crew folks and watched a rough cut of the film they all met on which will be out this fall. Um, I'm going to be FIRST in line when it comes out. Trust. Let's just say there was lots of shirtless pseudo teen porn (male/female; male/male; male/female/male) -- pseudo because all actors were 21+ (taking me out of the pedophile race, right? hello?); and Sandra Bernhard, Ana Gasteyer, Alan Cummings and the city of Philadephia are all co-stars in the film. Need I say more?

Sunday was brunch day with my family - bff from law school (referred to on the J&K show as "Elaine") and her gorgeous daughter and papa. The last time I saw them was in January in LA when they surprised me for my birthday. Elaine's daughter proclaimed on Sunday, "Kelly's all growned up!" upon seeing me. I think that's a good thing! Then she expressed her desire to wear dresses with no straps like mama and I. Not until you're at least in the double digits, young lady.

After brunch I returned to where I was staying and chilled out for a moment to reflect on all of the good fortune I've received, and how lucky I am to have such a vast family of friends. And the best part is I still have to visit my fam (friends and blood relatives) in Philly and DC and elsewhere. I'm one lucky Belle.

The weekend concluded with a lovely date with the aforementioned cutie I met on Friday. Swoon and a half.

I returned to Pittsburgh this morning and although I miss my squad already, I couldn't wait to get back to my life here as I begin to expand my circle of friends yet again, adding to the KB family tree.

Love y'all!

KelleBelle

Random Thoughts: Pet Peeves

In this edition of Random Thoughts, I'm going to list a couple of annoyances that have gotten to me lately. Feel free to add on.

1. Skinny b*tches on TV who purport to eat mass quantities.


Example #1: Grace of Will and Grace. Despite her collar bone and ribs being fully exposed on her ridiculously thin body, Grace constantly went on and on about her ravenous appetite and love for fatty, delicious foods. Give me a break. I bet in real life Debra Messing doesn't eat more than a morsel of food, let alone the cupcakes, bacon, and various other treats she ranted on about on the show.

Example #2: My beloved Liz Lemon on 30 Rock. Liz (portrayed by Tina Fey, above) will make travel plans based on the promise of free pretzels on an airplane, rewards herself with baked goods for planning on going to they gym later, and was once caught singing "I love my block of cheese" around midnight by her boss. B please.

Example #3: Max on Living Single. Max (played by Erika Alexander) was always up in the fridge mooching off of Khadijah, Regine, and Synclaire. Yet she didn't have an ounce of fat on her. Although she did have an athletic figure and definitely was not as painfully thin as Debra, she still was portrayed as a human vacuum and it just didn't add up.

The above characters (not so much Max) do not exercise on the show and are presented to appear lazy, lethargic foodies. However, both are extremely petite and thin (Tina not as much as Debra, but no way she indulges in real life like Liz) and I bet both of their weights are barely out of the double digit range.

This offends me as a former fat kid and as a woman who works out 6 times a week and has convinced herself that grapes are "nature's candy" and reese's pieces are the devil.

2. Fake glasses.


It really burns me when I see people who don't need glasses wearing them to look hip or "nerdy." Stop it. I know it's "cool" now to be a nerd, and some girls think it's cute to admit their nerdy side, "I'm such a nerd - just watched Bill Nye the Science guy, followed by the Simpsons." As if saying "hey, I'm more than just a girl in a bikini on facebook, I'm complex!" No, you're not.

I'm extremely tired of celebrities (specifically music folk) trying to rock the nerdy look. I will only co-sign you wearing those frames if you: 1.) Did not have a date to prom; 2) Were in the Physics club, mathletes, etc.; and 3.) Did not like high school.

Only then will you get a pass. If you don't meet the above criteria, take off those specs and be grateful that you have good eyesight and don't have to wear glasses or contacts!

Thanks for letting me rant.

Have a great week!

KB

The 'Burgh

Hey kids!

I'm supposed to be getting some work done at my neighborhood Starbucks (sniff sniff, I kind of miss Seattle! ...but not too much.), but I'd rather let y'all know how I'm liking my new home turf.

In typical KB fashion, I've compiled a list below with my likes/dislikes thus far of Pittsburgh:

Yays

1. The People! Everyone has been friendly, folksy, neighborhoody, and helpful. Well, most everybody. I haven't had to lift one heavy bag, pay for one drink, sit alone at any restaurant/bar/cafe, etc., or wander aimlessly in a store clearly in need of help since I've arrived. This is in stark contrast to Seattle, where people would walk over your limp, dying body (with hand grasping for help) on the sidewalk, instead of dare see if they could be of assistance. God forbid they intrude on your personal space.

In addition to the friendliness, Pittsburgh natives are hard core proud of their town. Can you blame them? The city has been named "Most Livable City" 4 years in a row by the Economist and they are the home of world champion Football and Hockey teams. I'm already a die hard fan and I've only been to one Steelers game! That reminds me, I've gotta get my black and gold wardrobe game on.

2. My neighborhood. It's the most diverse joint ever: every race you can think of - with the slight majority being Jewish! And plenty of asian/vegetarian restaurants with tofu. I'm home! ;)

3. My gym. State of the art equipment, facilities...and the BEST thing about having the gym at the Jewish Community Center is everyone knows how to spell my last name!! Mazel Tov! And I can't stop giggling when the "chosen" members (they do allow gentiles in the joint fyi) whip their heads around and stare when I say my full name aloud.

4. Cost of living. Son, when the owner of my building told me the rent for my ginormous apartment I had to ask him to repeat it, twice. I was sure I heard him wrong or it was a biweekly payment.

Nays

1. The humidity. Chile, KB hasn't been in this kind of heat since Philly in the summer of 07. Yet I've still tried to rock the hair stick straight a couple times. Stuck to my face but I worked it out.

2. My gym. Yes the facilities are great and everything is brand new but the exercise classes are SNOOZE. I suppose I'm just used to exercise instructors that are fierce, fun, and have the best music. I've mentioned this before - my exercise instructor should have a BETTER body than me! I mean how do you expect me to follow you when your belly is flapping and you're sweating way more than me 15 minutes into the class? Defined muscle tone should be a job requirement in my opinion.

3. BNT. I thought NYC/NJ was the BNT capital of the U.S.? They don't got nathan on Pittsburgh honey. There are bridges and tunnels every step you take. I take a bridge and a tunnel to work everyday. It's fine because I go against traffic, but when I'm not it's a hot, red-light filled mess. I actually heard last night that Pittsburgh has the most bridges in any U.S. city. 2nd in the world to Venice? Or maybe that was just the tipsy frat guy tryna impress me with his knowledge of Pitt trivia.

4. I'm squad-less. Y'all know KB considers her friends as family, so it was quite daunting to move to a place where I'd be completely solo (sans for Kingston). But, in usual KB style I've garnered quite a few squad members already, and I have a feeling a solid 'Burgh squad is gonna be up and running by fall. I mean, I needs to start baking and hosting cocktail parties, stat, lest I get all in a tizzy and start reading for pleasure or doing something more productive with my free time.

Anyone else make a move recently? (You know who I'm talking to!) =)

Can't wait for y'all to visit!

KelleBelle

Road Trip!

Picture it: KelleBelle and Kingston embark on a 2500+ mile road trip across the country. I hate road trips. But I can tolerate one-way trips if it's to relocate.

First of all, let's go over how the trip started. I left Seattle at 5:30am on Thursday, July 30th and of course planned on getting to bed by 10pm Wednesday night in order to be fully rested for the long drive. I was done packing, finished winding up my affairs, and said my goodbyes to everyone...except my BFF (in Seattle) Choklate*.

We still hadn't said our farewells, nor did we exchange parting gifts we had for one another. So she comes over around 9pm, swapped gifts (I LOVE having friends that wear my shoe size!! She gave me two super sweet pairs she never wore. And I gave her two fierce pairs of mine that she could do way more justice than I ever could), popped open a final bottle of wine and chat.

Then we decided to hit up our favorite lounge around the way, which has a fly wednesday night live jam session. Did I mention it was now 1am? So off we go. We had the nerve to saunter in the joint at 1:30am...when the place closes at 2. We commence drinking, dancing, chatting with our homies...and walk out of the joint at 3am. At this point sleep wasn't happening. So we go to this dope 24 hour restaurant, have big salads and lots of water, chat with a few music industry folks Chok knew that happened to be there, and set out again. We walked back to my place...packed up my car, and Kingston and I hit the road at 5:30am!

At approximately 7:15am, about 75 miles from Spokane, WA, I realize I forgot to pack a very important section of my bedroom: my goodie drawer!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I immediately called Chok, who was napping in my place, and told her to please clean it out, and feel free to keep any of the, ahem, stuff that was in there (everything was in wrappers and new - y'all know KB don't mess with toys and such). Thank goodness she was there - can you imagine the real estate agent and owner finding the contents of the drawer?! I'd die.

So Kingston and I drive through Washington, Idaho, and arrive in Billings, Montana around 8:30pm. Chile, Billings is hood. I took Kingston with me every time I needed to go down to the car to retrieve something. I swear the population was full of meth heads and crack feigns. Just weird looking folks strolling down the streets. Yikes.

Up early Friday morning, we head to Fargo, ND. I know what you're thinking: snooze city.

But no!! Why? Because one of my close friends from law school lives there! We had a friggin' ball honey. She of course was thrilled she actually had a visitor. I swore to her when she first moved there that I would never, ever visit her. But when my trip had me crossing through ND, of course I had to stop by. Friday night in Fargo was...an experience. We went to approximately19 bars, three restaurants, and I believe a piggly wiggly.

Here's a funny thing about Fargo: every place has about 14 different establishments within it. For instance, we went to this one complex that held 5 different clubs/bars, three restaurants (including one Hooters), a liquor store, some sort of dry cleaning/laundry place, a small casino/gambling area, and I swear I saw some sort of chapel in the back.

No bar is just a bar. Walk around the corner and make a left, you're in a free clinic. Hang a right? You're in the middle of a gas station.

We had such a ball (and I really didn't feel like driving all day again) that I stayed in Fargo all day Saturday and we worked out, reminisced about law school at Ruby Tuesdays for about 4 hours, then painted our nails and watched Real Housewives of Atlanta at her fabulous apartment. Pretty much the best visit ever.

Kingston and I hit the road at 9am Sunday morning and made our way to Chicago. We slid in around 8pm and had the best time with big bro and his crew. After a quick change, we bar hopped in his 'hood. One bar was playing my favorite movie in the world, "The Toy", so I was there for about an hour and a half watching and drinking. Then we hit this other bar that gave free personal pizzas with every drink! Awesome.

We got back to my bro's place around 1am and hit the sack. Kingston and I packed up our stuff once more, and hit the road at 8am. I realized what the key is to a successful visit with the bro-ham: Make it 12 hours! There's no time to fight or bicker at all. Short and sweet. :)

Finally, Kingston and I make our way Monday morning to our final destination: Pittsburgh!

We rolled into the 'Burgh around 5pm and I drove straight to the mall to go to the AT&T store and get my new iPhone. My og phone died somewhere between Wisconsin and Illinois. :(

I wanted to upgrade anyway, so it was all good. Then we checked into our hotel and slept for about 12 hours!

Everything has gone so well since I arrived here I can't help but feel like George Costanza. Something bad must be on the horizon. Everything's going so smoothly!! The 5 days at the hotel went swell, I found an amazing apartment in the greatest neighborhood ever, got the hookup on all of my furniture, have met the nicest, welcoming people, and my job is friggin' awesome.

I'm actually going to go to church on Sunday to give thanks. Shoot, I may hit up the synagogue on Saturday too, just to cover my bases. ;)

Love love love all y'all! Regularly scheduled blogging will commence shortly.

Xoxo,

KB

*check out her new album, "To Whom It May Concern" - It's amazing!!

Random Thoughts

1. Lessons learned from the Steve McNair Tragedy.

Be careful who your side piece is. It's looking like the murder of the beloved football player was at the hands of his 20-year-old jump off. McNair was married with 4 kids but seemingly had a separate life with his chick, whom he met while she was a waitress at a Dave and Busters that he frequented with his family. I highly doubt this tragedy will cause other professional athletes (and regular joes) to second guess a booty offering from a young crazy broad, but I hope so.

2. The Michael Jackson coverage.

I'm sorry but has everyone (I'm talking to you CNN!) lost their damn minds? MJ was an incredible figure in our society and affected many people by his music and generous contributions to charities...but yo, the coverage of his death and memorial service is off the wall (yup, pun intended!). You would think this dude cured cancer, freed slaves, something! I was not around when JFK was shot, but I can only see this kind of media coverage when a figure such as John John dies in such a tragic and public fashion. Not the sudden death of a pop star (yes he was King of pop but you know that doesn't make him technically royalty fyi) who was visibly unhealthy and had a lengthy history of medical problems...I'm just saying, let the man rest, and let's focus on other issues in addition to the tragic loss of MJ. Has anyone heard an update on the two reporters imprisoned in North Korea lately? Any news on Afghanistan? Hello? Uncle Leo?

3. Oprah's fat. Again.

I called my mom yesterday to tell her to watch the Oprah show. It was about her weight challenges. I watched the first 5 minutes and really liked what I was hearing. Oprah was being "real" and I appreciated it. She said that you'd think with all the money, fame, success, she'd be happy...but if you still cannot control your weight and can't fit into your clothes, you can never be fully at peace or happy. I completely understand.

I talked to mom dukes today and we spoke about the show. Moms had me dying! She said she liked the show but she disagreed with one thing O said. It was about the pressure that she feels each month when she has to go the "O" Magazine cover shoot and try on clothes. My mom said, "well, if she didn't put herself on the cover each month, that would relieve a lot of pressure." True dat! Moms was like, "it was fine the first few months the magazine came out, but after that it got annoying. I mean, who else only has a picture of themselves on their magazine each month?" I gotta agree. Sure she's shared the cover with her dogs and Michelle O once. But she really doesn't need to be on the cover each month. I wonder if she'll be sandwiched in betwixt Venus and Serena for next month's cover in light of their Wimbledon battle?

Alright y'all...until the next time.

Smooches!

KB

The Illest Nana of them All

Some time must be spent on the absolute tomfoolery and fuckery of South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford.

Hey, I'm a romantic and am all about finding one's soul mate. But get your shit in order first. Don't let the goodies make you lose your mind now. Apparently Governor Sanford did not get the memo.

A few thoughts:

• Telling a few folks that you "went for a walk" and then having some fool make up some "happened upon the Appalachian trail" nonsense is not going to cover a ghost's tracks.

• Son, can I get an out-of-office reply? Something!

• And damn, I don't celebrate Father's day, but if I was a pop of four children...I'd at least give them a call or let them know my number at the jump-off's crib in Argentina. That's ice cold.

• Why do you continue to discuss your illicit affair?? Sanford got the ultimate chance to just quickly push his drama under the rug and quietly resign. But what does he do? This mutha waits until a few days have passed since MJ's death and holds yet another press conference, to announce more affairs!

Either his side piece has the illest of them all, or dude really didn't want to be Governor anymore. Hey, do you, but try to be a lil' more on it next time!

Smooches,

KelleBelle

The King is Dead

For complete, insightful, witty coverage on Michael Jackson's untimely passing, please visit http://www.whatwouldthembido.com/

I'm now going to focus on some of the taboo subjects surrounding his death, that no one (at least in the media) wants to discuss.

1. Those kids.

Look, I'm a product of the heavenly black and white combination. Those kids are not. They could possibly pass for his kids if he truly looked like he does now, genetically. I know they are doing great shizz with science these days, but I do not think we are at the point where you can genetically mutate a fetus to only take on the (white) mother's genes. There is no way in hells bells those kids have a black father, complete with nappy hair and a wide nose. No way!

2. Diana Ross as fill-in guardian.

I love me some Diana, but is she really the best substitute to take care of his kids in the event that his elder mother cannot fill the role? I believe she has been chillin' with her fabo european husband in paris or rome or somewhere kick-ass, and I have a feeling she is through raising chil'ren. Didn't Evan Ross like flee the coup at age 10? Or mayhaps I made that up.

3. Cause of death.

Similar to Heath Ledger's untimely death, no one wants to talk about what really went down. I'm not saying we should bring up the true cause, especially if it will only serve to shed negative light on his otherwise amazing impact and legacy he will leave, but it could possibly be a very valuable lesson for the masses. As in, do not mix sleeping pills with certain other drugs, etc.

4. Pandora's "Michael Jackson" station

This isn't a taboo subject, but I must make a comment regarding my disappointment with Pandora. Immediately after MJ's death, I created a Michael Jackson station. As you know, to create a station on Pandora you enter the name of an artist, song, or album and Pandora creates a "station" based on the selection and plays music that is similar/related to what you typed in. For example, say you have, oh I don't know, an "NWA" station. Expect to hear some Dre, Cube, etc., in addition to songs from those ninjas with attitude. So, I create the MJ station. The first few songs were by Michael, Earth Wind & Fire, and Stevie Wonder. No surprise there. But Justin Timberlake? Pardon?? They played JT 3 times over a 9 song span! If you're going to throw in biters, might as well add every other pop jerk that stole MJ's moves and sound. Tsk tsk Pandora. You'll be on the business end of a strongly worded email from yours truly very shortly.

5. The BET awards.

Really?

Okay my Pretty Young Thangs...I'm off (the wall)!

Smooches,

KB

Size Queen

No, no, not that size. And yes, KB (and I believe Jake as well) is definitely a size queen in that regard.

But I'm referring to the super-size nature of American culture. I was having a great girl-chat session with my buddy Andrew (see his amazingly personal and interesting blog/diary at andrewwnichols.blogspot.com) last week and he asked me what I thought caused the mortgage/financial crisis. I said simply, greed. Not just by the bankers, investors, and all of dem. I'm referring to American's "need" for the grandiose: the Hummer, the huge house that you don't need, the fancy car you can't afford, the purses, the "poppin' bottles", all of that excess.

Andrew, a new homeowner, mentioned that he was approved for a loan in the range of $300,000 and was encouraged by his real estate agent to look for a bigger piece of property than what he eventually settled on. He declined, and instead bought a small place that fit his lifestyle perfectly - and was "only" $135,000 - less than half of what he could have bought. I immediately chided the real estate agent for the prodding of Andrew - of course she/he would encourage him to buy a bigger house. The higher the purchase price, the higher their commission.

I think more people should be like Andrew and not take out the maximum line of credit - for a credit card, mortgage, student loan, etc. Live within your means - actually, live below your means. I have to say this was a hard lesson for me to learn - after all, I was raised in LA where people would drive their fancy Mercedes Benz's and Lexi all over town...and park it in the garage (or on the street) of a down trodden one-bedroom apartment in the hood. It was all about image and keeping up with those fuckers the Jones'. My mama waited until she was retired and stacked her chips before she finally got her Benz. Growing up we never had a fancy car or wore designer labels (Slauson swapmeet holler!) but we lived in a nice house in a safe neighborhood.

I had a friend at USC who spent $4000 on a Dior purse and lived in her grandma's converted garage in Compton. Huh? Meanwhile, ya girl KB rocked her Nine West clutch and Steve Maddens...and lived in a spacious apartment near campus. Years later in Philly, I tried to dissuade a friend from buying a 4-story house. Why did a single woman who travelled frequently need such a grand home? I suppose she wanted it because she could have it. So she did. I believe it has been on the market now for over a year...

Even folks are super-sizing their families! Who on earth needs (or can support) 18 kids? Or 8? Someone please stop the madness.

I'm not saying I'm the black Suzie Orman, but I think my priorities in terms of spending are somewhat intact.

Off to H&M for some discount shopping and then I'm catching a matinee (bringing my own snacks of course - healthier and incredibly cheaper than the $13 medium sized popcorn).

Xoxo,

KB