Adventures in Arm Candyland

KB here with a re-cap of my weekend in Vegas. Let me warn you right now - there is about to be some brutal honesty up in here. For those of you who are sensitive Suzies, you may want to close this page asap.

It was an impromptu trip. A very well established, successful ($$$), doctor asked me a week and a half ago if I could "roll to Vegas" the following weekend. It took me about 3 seconds to reply, "I have to find a dog walker, but hell yeah!" I didn't ask why or how or what for. I already knew the answers. You see, said friend is sweet on KB and although we've only kicked it on a few occasions to conversate about sports & whatnot over cocktails, it's obvious he is a big "fan" of mine (his words). I am a fan of his too. He's a very nice (at least to me), accomplished, generous, and respectful man, that can appreciate an independent woman who likes to laugh and have fun.

But I am 1000% not attracted to him and have never indicated I had the slightest romantic interest in him. In addition to the double chin, old guy hair cut, mustache, neck rolls, and a haunting layer of gray ash on his face and knuckles (perhaps from the Iceland volcano?), he also has possibly the most bland, boring, uninteresting personality I have ever encountered. And I've chatted with some snoozerific folks before.

So when I signed up for the trip I knew what I was getting myself into. I was arm candy. Plain and simple. He wanted to brag to his colleagues of his PYT companion for the weekend and impress his friends. I haven't been able to volunteer at the soup kitchen for a while because I've been out of town so I figured this would count as a charitable endeavor for the month of April.

Long story longer, I had a fantastic weekend! Flew non-stop after work Friday and back to the east coast Sunday evening. The weekend started with drinks and more drinks with, oh let's call him Mr. Snooze, his co-worker, and my BFF of all BFFs! My oldest and dearest friend from childhood has lived in Las Vegas since we were 13. I hadn't seen her in years and she is the BEST! It was so great to see her and be in her presence. My heart was so very happy to be around someone that I genuinely consider my sister.

But back to the tragic side of the tale. I ordered up shots and shots as the night went on and we danced around the rooftop bar amongst your typical tragically lame Las Vegas crowd of club goers. The place had the undeniable stench of vomit and desperation. An aroma all too common in bars and clubs in Vegas and Hollywood. Anywho, I drank enough so I wouldn't have to tackle any awkwardness when we would return to our suite at the hotel. I "passed out" on the couch and told Mr. Snooze to leave me there as I felt sick. In reality, I was definitely tipsy but not passing out drunk, and I wasn't sick at all. But I know if he tried to sleep next to me in the huge king size bed I would definitely become sick and throw up all over his ash covered body.

The next morning he left early to attend a business meeting and I sprung up like a jack rabbit as soon as the room door slammed shut. I high-tailed it to the drug store to get sunscreen, magazines, and some water, and off I went to the pool. I had a BALL! Not only am I two to three shades bronzer, I was chatting it up with the best folks ever. I was solo so I became best friends with all of my pool neighbors. The first couple I met was in their 50s and from Canada. I fell in love with them and asked if I could come visit. Throughout the day I chatted in betwixt monster size frozen margaritas. I finished my 2nd Chelsea Handler book, and enjoyed viewing the plentiful hot bodies that were fooling around at the pool. Man, if Mr. Snooze weren't footing the bill for the weekend I would have slored it up. Don't judge me! Okay go ahead and judge. Those boys were hot. There must be some hot guys-with six pack abs listserve that tells them all to visit Vegas every weekend. Yum to the yummers.

Mr. Snooze finally joins me after I had been out sunning for oh 5 hours, in his old guy shorts and button down short sleeved shirt. We chatted for a bit, which is hard because he has nothing interesting to say. Ever. Finally my BFF comes to meet us and we start gabbing non-stop. Now don't get me wrong - my bestie and I always included Mr. Snooze in conversations. We're not rude. But it was on him to actually contribute to the convo. Which he seldom did. Things finally got interesting when J, my BFF, asked him if he had any kids. I was shocked when he said yes! Not only because he never mentioned it, but also because I found it astonishing that someone let him mount them and conceive a child. Before I get nauseous, let's move on.

He explained that his child is 7 years old, lives with the mom, and he was never married. Something on his face looked like he was ashamed. I have a feeling it was because having a child out of wedlock made him a statistic. His entire steeze that he desperately tries to maintain is that he's a rich, successful, black professional with swagger and has the right to be picky, arrogant, and look down on others who are not as successful. And I'm sure he had a feeling that I would not be too pleased that he had a kid. I have to say, it is my policy not to date men with kids. But this guy could have zero kids or 100. I'd never want to do anything even remotely romantic or intimate with him. So it really didn't matter that he had a kid. What do I care?

Anywho, this new development pretty much opened up pandora's box in terms of my status as arm candy and his contstant, nagging inquiries regarding my level of interest. Here are a few high(low)lights of his line of questioning and comments throughout the weekend:

"So I've lost 15 lbs since I met you back in January, I want to lose 15 more. Then maybe you'll be into me."

(KB response: I lowered my head, half smiled, and ferociously sipped from my margarita.)

"Does my having a child bother you?"

(KB response: "Not at all. I do have a policy of usually not dating men with kids, but we're not dating so it really is not any of my business. Were you ever going to tell me though?")

"Well you'd never be around him so I wasn't planning on telling you, no."

(KB response: "um, okay.")

As soon as I told him I wasn't trying to date anyone right now, he changed his story up and began to say that he wasn't looking to get married, but he just wanted to "hang out" and get to know me and fly me out to wherever he is to do so.

KB response: "To be honest, I'm really still in the phase of dating bad boys that are jerks, because they're disposable, and you are definitely not disposable." (Good shit right?! I gotta write that one down to use in future "It's not you, it's me" explanations when rejecting an advance.)

"I was talking to my partner and told him how beautiful you are but that you'd likely be more into our friend who plays in the NFL, you know with huge muscles and stuff. I bet I'm not the usual type of guy you like."

KB response: "Well, you know, I've dated athletes, models before, and personality counts too." (Then I lowered my head and ferociously sipped my margarita. Or was it a cosmo? Whatever).

"My best friend and I realize that we probably think we are more attractive than we actually are."

KB response: I lowered my head, half smiled, and ferociously sipped from my Diva cocktail (ingredients: fresh strawberry, peach vodka, and club soda).

"It's hard for me to date because usually after about two months the woman will ask me for money, to pay her bills. I know with you, not only are you beautiful, but you're smart, funny, and independent."

KB response: They ask you for money because why else would they be with you? I bet they are all mildly to somewhat attractive? Aim lower fella and maybe someone will stick around because they actually find your old man steeze appealing.

(Okay, the real KB response was: I lowered my head, half smiled, and sipped from said Diva cocktail.)

AND HERE IS THE KICKER!!! (You may want to sit down for this)

Saturday evening around midnight, after I pleaded with Mr. Snooze to let me go to bed and not stop at yet another bar (I don't know if he really just wanted to be out or was trying to get me tipsy enough to try something), I put on my huge over sized law school t-shirt and yoga pants and slipped into bed on the furthest side away from him. I literally was in side plank pose position, taking up no more than 4 inches wide of the bed. He was approximately 5 feet away from me, which was too close for comfort.

So as I pretended to read my book intently (I had finished it already at the pool) I was genuinely getting very sleepy (Did I mention I popped a sleeping pill at a bar earlier?) and couldn't wait to fall asleep and dream of anything without awkwardness or ashy skin. Mr. Snooze said good night and I turned my head to say the same when I saw a sight so horrid I will pay thousands of dollars to a hypnotist or brain surgeon to remove the image from my memory.

He was topless.

You guys, picture Steve Harvey, Bill Cosby, Al Roker, and shit, I don't know, any other older semi-fat cornball guy. Without a shirt.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

I really was preparing myself to vomit right there on the bed.

I quickly turned my head back to my book and said a prayer to the Lord to send me a diversion. Let him have indigestion, let there be an alien invasion, a fire alarm, an earth quake. Anything that would make him put a shirt on.

And then he said it.

"I know this is a platonic friend weekend, but could I get a kiss?"

At this point I did in fact throw up a little in my mouth. And prayed for death.

After the longest 5 second pause in history I said, "Um...I'm cool...I don't kiss friends, I find it to be very intimate and I am just not comfortable doing that. I'm exhausted. Good night!"

I turned my head, closed the book, and miraculously fell quickly asleep. Popping that pill was the best move ever. I'm seriously considering naming my next dog or first born child Ambien.

I slept for a solid 8 hours and was awoken by Mr. Snooze, who had gotten up earlier, got coffee and was putting mine next to me on my nightstand, with a variety of sugar substitutes and creamers for my choosing. It was a very nice gesture and I decided to forgive him for putting me in the most awkward position ever the previous night and subjecting me to the bone-chilling sight of his bare torso.

So it's Sunday and you know what that means for KB. Brunch! The hotel had a fabulous one and after we put our bags in the lobby and checked out, off we went. Unlimited champagne would surely have me tipsy enough all day in order to survive the last leg of the trip. Off we go to brunch, where my Bestie is waiting for me! Of course she was going to come with. Duh! I paid for brunch for all of us since I felt a bit bad for inviting my bff to just about every single outing that weekend. I wish I could have asked her to stay in the hotel with us, saving me from all of the awkward and vomit inducing interactions with Snooze. And ps: Mr. Snooze benefited from her company too - at just about any place we were at, the wait staff and passers by commented on how lucky he was to be in the company of two such beautiful young ladies which made him light up with a huge grin. So there.

Anywho, being the bestie of all besties, we leave Mr. Snooze alone to pile up his plate with gross seafood and other old man type food, and go to her car parked on the rooftop parking lot and hang with Bob. Yes!!! Possibly the best time of my life. I begin to describe to her the awful details of the previous night but it was just too much. She was choking on her tears and laughter when I tried to describe his bloated stomach and gross old guy curly chest hair with gray hairs making cameos here and there.

We somehow make it back to brunch in a reasonable amount of time and control our giggles and try not to be obvious that we had been speaking of Mr. Snooze. We got our grub on and sipped champagne, and I began to feel better about speaking ill of Snooze. Bob helped me realize that I shouldn't feel that guilty about it. Because even if he was actually attractive to me in the slightest way, I don't find his personality appeasing at all. My bestie remarked earlier that she thought he was funny, but then realized he hadn't said one humorous thing all weekend. I was the one with the hilarious seinfeld-esque observations and insane descriptions of extremely awkward moments and situations. He would just chuckle and make lame follow up comments.

He also exhibited many extremely annoying habits like constantly being on his cell phone as if he was that important and popular (I kept waiting for the blue tooth to come out that would seal the cornball deal), and making references to his wealthy lifestyle - including his four houses, two BMWs and a louis vuitton man bag. Gross to the yuck. Even a classically hot guy loses mad points if he exhibits such nauseating behavior. And he kept making excuses for going to never heard of, lower tiered schools for college and med school. Again, none of this mattered to me. He could have graduated at the top of his class from Jesus H. Christ School of Medicine and be an Oxford Scholar with a genius grant. It wouldn't change my feelings toward him.

So after my bestie dropped us off at the airport, we of course waited for our boarding time at an airport bar where I continued to drink margaritas and prayed that the plane was full so we wouldn't be in a row by ourselves. The Lord heard my prayer and miraculously Mr. Snooze had a penchant for aisle seats and I always have to sit by the window so he was totally cool with sitting apart. And a semi-cutie sat in betwixt us! Although anyone with a BMI under 35 and under 40 years of age was semi-cute at that point. But I digress.

I finished my second book and was able to part ways as soon as we got off the plane since he checked a bag (LV of course, yuck) and I desperately needed to rush home to walk my dog who hadn't been out since the dog walker came earlier that morning.

I damn near ran to my car, sped home, and gave my dog the longest embrace ever.

I am so happy to be back and more happy that I'll be hopping out of town again soon. This time with a bestie from law school for part of the trip, and then with my Kingston clan for a super fun reunion in Miami. No one over 40 allowed. Save for Jay-Z, Janet, J.Lo, and Mimi.

I have to say it was definitely a worthwhile trip, awkwardness and all. Despite my opposition to any and all romantic advances, Mr. Snooze appreciated my company and said he had the best time partying with me and my girl. Haha. I'm sure he was pissed how much time we were a threesome and not a twosome, but understood how much we missed each other and was seemingly okay with it. And besides, when we were alone it was such a task to conjure up any kind of delightful conversation. Snooze city. I only have so much material and was damn near out by Saturday night.

That concludes this adventure in Arm Candyland. It was worth the awkward situations, and now that my bestie and I already had our Vegas reunion, we are going to relocate her post-bachelorette party to LA over Memorial Day weekend! Yipee! We had planned on having it in Vegas but since the Arm Candy retreat covered that, off to LA we go, where we plan on reliving some of our favorite childhood activities. Lemonade Stand anyone? Actually that's a cute idea. Of course this time around said lemonade will be spiked with vodka. And we'll give discounts to all hotties.

I hope you enjoyed this here tale. I wish it was part fiction, but trust me, everything above really happened. For better or for worse.

Until the next time...

Smooches!

KB

Random Thoughts: Is it just me...?

Is it just me or have you noticed that the media refers to President Obama as "Mr. Obama" or just "Obama" or his full name, "Barack Obama"?

I don't remember the media referring to GW as "Mr. Bush" or "Bush" (stop giggling) as much. Can some think-tank conduct some kind of study to determine if my observation is fact? I just find it disrespectful addressing the President (whoever it may be at the time) by anything but his formal title.

Is it just me or do pregnant people and new mothers completely erase from their vocabulary normal measurements of time? One of my dear friends sent some gorgeous pictures of her growing belly and proclaimed "Can you believe I'm 33 and a half weeks already?!" I immediately furrowed my brow and thought...she's 11 months pregnant?! That can't be right. So off I went to my calculator and figured it out. Um, preggers people can you please just say you're 8 and a half months pregnant? Your non-preggers friends would appreciate it. Also, new mommies: After your kid turns 4 I think it's okay to stop calculating his/her age in months. Little Kev is 49 months! They grow so fast.

Is it just me or is it time to remove "Negro" from the race section on the Census form? I was startled when I saw "Black, African Am., or Negro" as the second choice after White.

Is it just me or have some recent reports of Toyotas going nuts sound mad suspect? Not one has been confirmed to be the car's fault, and all signs are pointing to human error. I have a sneaking suspicion that a few crappy drivers are using the recall to excuse said crappy driving. Case in point: I was in a large parking lot of a shopping center last night, stopped behind a car, as we were both making left turns to exit the lot. The car in front of me was not going more than five (5) miles per hour when she ran directly into the pole on the other side of the two way lane. She was going so slow I literally watched in slow motion as she busted the left headlight of her car into the pole.

As I witnessed the slow-mo crash, I asked aloud, "Is she going to keep going and roll into that pole?" Yup. Clearly no one was hurt, and when the woman pulled over to take a look at the damage she created I couldn't help but chuckle. She was older - around 60, so it's not like she was texting or updating her facebook page on her iphone that caused her to be distracted. At least I hope not. She was driving a luxury looking SUV. What brand? Toyota! Twenty bucks says she tells the dealer the car accelerated on its own.

Is it just me or has the downright f*ckery and tomfoolery going down in Congress gone way too far? All of this violence and upheaval...over making sure the citizens you supposedly represent don't die in the street after being kicked out of a hospital because they don't have health insurance. And I still do not get the rationale that we can't afford healthcare...but the war? Sure! More military spending! Um, shouldn't we be putting money behind programs that keep people alive?

Finally, is it just me or has Mother Nature been a straight up b*tch lately? I mean really. Enough with the devastating earthquakes and never-ending snow storms. (Side bar: we are expecting snow overnight in lovely pittsburgh. It's gonna be MF april next week! what in the ef.)

Meanwhile, I almost had a heart attack last week when I was sitting on my couch with Kingston watching something on Bravo when all of a sudden an extremely bright light flashed through the windows in the dining room. I jumped up and was terrified. Did some crazy neighbor just snap a picture of me?! The flash was so bright! Then I heard it. Thunder! That flash was lightning. I felt like a narcissistic fool (ain't nobody tryna take a picture of me in my yoga gear sipping a cosmo), Kingston rolled his eyes, and went back to sleep.

Thanks for letting me vent...my random thoughts.

Smooches!

KB

Content City. Population: Me.

Whilst sipping $17 vodka&diet cokes with Jake and his bestie at the W this past weekend in NYC, Jake confessed that he hasn't blogged in awhile because he just hasn't felt inspired. I totally hear that.

I rarely feel the urge to post more than twice a month or so. Jake's buddy suggested we write about what we like. Jake insisted he needs more structure, a focus to narrow down the topics on what we blog about. Well, we have yet to come up with a central theme (besides f*ckery and tomfoolery) but I am going to follow Jake's friend's suggestion and write about what I like. The focus today? Pittsburgh.

Yes, kittens, I like Pittsburgh. It can be boring and weird, and there's an extreme shortage of eye candy, but dang it there are some really positive aspects about this place that I really dig.

For example, I was returning to my car after purchasing my happy juice from the wine & spirits store (don't judge) when a meter-maid approached me and said, "Will you do me a favor and put a quarter in the meter so I can rip up your ticket?" I stared at her in complete disbelief and confusion. "Huh? Wait, what? Oh! Okay! Thanks!!" And I promptly put in a quarter, thanked the meter maid again, and went on about my way.

Who does that? Chile, I still talk about the $80 jaywalking ticket I got in LA in 2000. Jaywalking. And the light was GREEN, but the red hand was flashing. I asked the cop, "Isn't someone being maimed or raped right now?" Ugh.

Last night I was all kindsa hyped to celebrate my first St. Patrick's Day in the 'Burgh. Snooze. I had fun catching up with a few buddies but per usual, there was NO talent and I was ready for bed by 7:30. The highlight of the evening was the bartender. He kept filling my glass everytime it was less than half full with a mischievous yet welcoming grin on his red face. Oh and ps the drinks were $2.50 a pop. And they weren't on special.

My friends asked me when I was moving out of Pittsburgh since I've been leaving almost every weekend for destinations with decent nightlife, weather, style (I saw no less than 10 outfits in NYC I plan on replicating), and of course, attractive mens. I told them I ain't leaving for a minute. The thing is I really like Pittsburgh. During the week.

My job is the cat's meow, and it's so easy living here. It's no surprise the 'Burgh was voted "Most Livable City" 4 years in a row by the Economist. During the week my routine is mundane and predictable and I love it. The weekends here are usually boring yet relaxing and that's fine...sometimes...but mama needs to live, so it looks like I'mma be a weekend warrior jetting off to locales that fulfill my fun, fashion, and flirting needs.

Sounds like a plan to me.

My name is Kelle Belle von Benson Simone. And I'm happy to be here.

Wherever you are, I hope you're happy too.

Smooches!

KB

The J&K Show hit the road...again

Picture it: Summer 2008. Jake was in LA after driving down the coast from Frisco in a convertible. I know, cliche much? Jokes. Jake comes by KB's crib and the pair frolic at the beach for days on end, making pitchers and pitchers of Sangria before said frolicking.

Now picture it: March 2010. Rainy NYC. J&K are in town to celebrate the impending birth of a mutual bestie's babe. Cue the pitchers of Sangria and commence the frolicking. It was as if we had just seen each other the other day.

After getting entirely too giddy on champagne and pink cupcakes at said friend's baby shower on the lower east side, J&K and crew head back to KB's hotel room to kick it with our old buddy Bob.

After the crew leaves, one of Jake's besties I've only admired in pictures (yummers!) comes by and the trio heads to the bar at the W where we discuss everything and nothing at all. Most notably Jake's amazing idea to get rich quick: raffles. As in raffling off an old sweater. Or a house. Jake's bff and I exchanged bewildered looks ("they already have that, it's called Ebay"), and wanted to confirm it wasn't the drinks or bob making his idea sound absolutely ludicrous. Nope, it was ridic all on its own.

But we heart him nonetheless. And his hot pink messiness. Who books a flight from the wrong airport? Chile, somehow both J&K made their respective flights, after a long embrace and tearful goodbye. Okay, so I was tearing up because my fake eyelashes were a b*tch to take off the night before and left my eyeballs sensitive. Those tears were real. So much has happened since the last J&K meeting on the road. And I think our readers would be proud. We've accomplished some pretty admirable thangs since our last meet-up (bar exams, cross country moves, flourishing careers, new dogs, old dogs, loves, likes, and everything in between) and I foresee nothing but more fierceness in the future.

The next reunion is hopefully just around the corner. A touch of tomfoolery and f*ckery was just what the doctor ordered.

Smooches,

KelleBelle

Preggo Pick-Me-Up

It's about that time when folks get really SAD (seasonal affective disorder). More than a few friends are ready to bust out and re-locate to costa rica and join the peace corps. One in particular has been having some rough days, bursting into tears at a moments notice. It may have more to do with hormones than dreary weather, but she's in need of some pick me up tips asap for her well-being and her babe to be.

You see, I currently have four friends that are pregnant. Seeing as how my usual advice - to make lemonade and add vodka when life gives you lemons - won't apply to them for the next few months, I had to think of some mood-lifters in crappy weather/times:

Vodka.

Oh wait. Strike that from the record.

Laughter.

Be it from TV, movies, friends, books, co-workers, etc., laughter always puts you in a better mood. Regardless of the weather.

Sun breaks.

I know for me, even three days away from the gray skies and piles of dirty snow on the ground was a complete mood lifter. I really think the trip was medically necessary for my mental and physical health. It's hard to not get sick from the constantly freezing temperatures and snowy walkways.

If you can't take a sun break in the near future, create your own sun vacay at home. Grab some non-alcoholic margarita mix, coronas (only if you are in your 3rd trimester), chips & salsa, a kiddie pool, pics of the beach, Bob Marley cds, and slap on a sun dress or maybe even a bathing suit. Yes, you will look utterly insane, but you should be laughing extremely hard at yourself by this time as you look in the mirror and take in your futile attempt to convince yourself summer is coming. Just picturing my super-pregnant friend in a bright red bikini with an umbrella hat in her apartment in Brooklyn is making me giggle. And I'm not even SAD! =)

Food.

This is the one time in your life when you can gorge on any and every comfort food you ever desired and not be judged. You'll be paying for it with extra long post-partum work-outs at the gym, but for now, get to grubbin'. I bet you'll feel much better when you are sipping some super rich hot chocolate followed by a philly cheesesteak. You'll be in a food coma soon enough and will forget all about the depressing weather outside.

Hope this helps! Off to happy hour. :)

KelleBelle

More Random Thoughts

If it looks like a killer, acts like a killer, and has killer in its name...don't f*ck with it.

I grew up at the beach, love aquariums, and have been to SeaWorld many times. In fact, up until the age of 8 I legitimately set my sights at being a mermaid as my career goal. However, I have always respected the ocean and feared it. Stepping on a sand shark as a child can do that to ya. Look, I feel awful for the family of the trainer that was pulled to her death yesterday by a killer whale during a performance at SeaWorld, but let's be real. It's a killer whale. Hello. Combine anything with "Killer" in front of it and captivity, and this is what happens (ps this was the third death this whale caused).

Now excuse me while I harvest honey for my tea from some killer bees. Mmm deathly.

Movie snooze.

I finally saw Avatar. I'm not sure if the extreme hype affected me or what, but I don't see what's all the hub bub. It was entertaining, but so was Jurassic Park, The Matrix, and Alien. I do love that phony ponies played a major role in the flick! I wonder where the studio got the hair from. Probably Star Beauty Supply on Crenshaw and Normandie.

News snooze.

While home in Cali for a much needed sun break I noticed the striking difference between what is considered "top news" in LA and in Pittsburgh. Here were the first four "top" news stories:

1. Extensive coverage of the Tiger news conference.
2. Rain possibly in the forecast. (Ooh scary! B please.)
3. Kim Kardashian did an in-store to debut her "celebrity" cupcake: pink vanilla frosting.
4. Hemp Con 2010.

I think by the 20 minute mark or so they finally touched on the health care bill debate, jobless rates, and the upcoming gubernatorial race.

In contrast, Pittsburgh evening news usually leads with a combination of the following (at least these last few months):

1. Snow.
2. More Snow.
3. Awful road conditions causing accidents due to the never-ending snow.
4. Snow.

Then they'll get to local crime and national news, but not before they talk about hockey and football.

Thanks for letting me ramble. I needed a brain break. Back to the grind...

Smooches,

KB

Random Thoughts

Tiger broke his silence today. And said nothing. Snooze. But yo T - ease up on the little debbie snacks while you're holed up in the crib avoiding the paps. No one wants to see a chubby cheetah. A muscular man-whore is much easier to watch.

In double standard news, a small plane crashed into a building in Austin, TX yesterday. The pilot was allegedly aiming for the IRS which occupies a few floors of the building. To quote Mr. Jake A. McKenzie: "Why won't they call this white dude what he is: a terrorist."

In the latest observation of the wack side of Pittsburgh, my fav gal pal and I had a random, hilarious conversation Wednesday evening reflecting on the lame nick-names folks out here go by, and the vanilla government names behind the cornball made up monikers. To give you a few examples:

"Knowledge" is a thick white boy with Heavy-D esque eyeglasses (shaded a bit) and an edged up beard. Real name: Matt.

"Image" is a passive black man with dreads and an odd sense of humor. Real name: Billy.

"Free" - Unless he stans for 106 & Park or is recently out on bail, I don't get it. Real name: Walter.

"Black" is extremely high yellow. So shouldn't his name be..."Beige"? Real name: unknown. Likely Gilroy or Stacey.

With the help of Bob, said gal pal and I (both having vanilla government names) anointed ourselves Glitter (her) and Glam (me). We plan on getting bedazzled jackets and airbrushed t-shirts with our kick-ass new nick names emblazoned across them once we find a swapmeet out here that can provide such services.

Xoxo,

Glam

Time for "Ask KB"!

I'll get straight to it. A gal pal in DC sent me and a few other ladies an email requesting our advice. She is a single, 28-year-0ld fierce professional young lady who generally has her ish together. She is attractive and fit...and that is where her request for advice comes in.

Said pal shares my general guidelines of suitors to be very wary of: professional athletes, musicians, politicians, trainers, etc. You get the idea. These types are not strictly banned from consideration, but one must proceed with caution if you decide to date them.

So here's her question: should she date a trainer at her gym? Her boot camp instructor is hot and seemingly a very nice guy. Young (25) but has displayed mature characteristics: owns his own home, is at work (her gym) everyday at 5am, and when he speaks exudes a level of maturity beyond his years.

She never considered him as a potential suitor because of her guidelines above. But at a recent boot camp class one of the regulars (a "yenta" about 20 years her senior) suggested that said boot camp instructor and her would make an incredible couple. This yenta made the suggestion to him and said it just loud enough that my pal could hear it. She blushed and pretended to not hear it.

So she sends the email asking if she should pursue this potential hookup. Here's what I was thinking of telling her:

Pros:

1. Schedule similarity. They are both early to rise and early to bed in order to be up and ready to get it in at the gym. Therefore there wouldn't be the problem of scheduling dates, because both know they need to be turning in by 9/10pm. I know for me, it has been hard to date someone who doesn't have a similar schedule because "no, I can't meet you out for dinner/drinks and a hip-hop show at 9pm on a Tuesday because I can't sleep in til 11am like you, sir."

2. Physical fitness. They both hold exercise and healthy living (with the occasional over-imbibing on the weekends) as important parts of their lives and are both physically fit. Their kids would be guaranteed athletic scholarships to the college of their choice at birth. Said pal has broken up with folks in the past because they were lazy slugs that made fun of her healthy eating and "nazi" exercise regimen. Yes chile, her ex said that! She promptly kicked Mr. Chunky Mc Laze to the curb.

3. Lifestyle. Continuing with #2's theme, because both parties begin their days so early, they both (at least my gal pal does) must turn in early. Thereby decreasing the likelihood that dude is an irresponsible drunken fool that hangs at skeevy bars during the week picking up chicks. No guarantee on what he does with his weekend time, but during the week my money is on him turning in early.

4. He's good with kids. Dude teaches a "Fit Kidz" class 4x a week where he guides 3-7 year olds through various exercises while their desperate housewife mommies are in spinning class/pilates. I have to say there is nothing more attractive than a man who is good with kids. Especially one who doesn't have any of his own!

5. He sees her at 5:30 in the a.m. No makeup, bed hair, crappy workout gear, and half-asleep. My friend, like me, rarely leaves the house without her "face" on so the fact that he has seen the "real" her is definitely a plus. And especially since she makes it a point to run into him on her way out of the gym looking fierce in full hair/makeup on her way to work. He sees the au natural her, and the everyday wow version. All that to say if they do spend time together, there will be no surprises when he rolls over the morning after. Ha!

Cons:

1. He's a trainer. Even the yenta flirts with dude. But who can blame her? Trainers are known to be hot and they are in the unique position of seeing you in your most vulnerable state: no makeup, messy hair, breathing heavy, and sweating like a pig. It's a somewhat intimate relationship. Trainers have to touch their clients bodies and guide them through exercises...mmhmmm. You see the danger this occupation poses.

2. Youth. He may appear to be mature but she hasn't seen him with his friends. 25 is 25. And yes, he may be disciplined with his work schedule but she doesn't know if he's out tipping cows and slaying skeezy chicks when he's off the clock. Sad, but true.

I'm thinking of telling her that she shouldn't completely shoot down the idea of the hookup, but let him pursue her. Or rather, let the yenta do what she does best: meddle.

KelleBelle

Koast to Koast with KB

Hi my lovelies!

I am coming off a whirlwind series of trips spanning the country. I cannot wait until this weekend. Finally, I'll be at home and I have zero plans besides snuggling with Kingston and catching up on TV I have missed.

As I mentioned before, I went home to So Cal the weekend before last to celebrate my birthday with my besties and Mama Belle ("MB"). Here's a summary of my trip:

Saturday: Arrived in LA at 9:30am and went straight to the nail shop for mani/pedi's with MB. Then home to spend final bonding time with Chester, my ailing beloved dog of 15 years, followed by a sad trip to the vet to say our final goodbye. Mama Belle really should have done this weeks ago but she wanted me to see him one more time before he was put out of his misery. It was for the best, and after the vet, MB and I walked down to the beach and reflected on our 15 years with him. Then we went home and I went to bed at 8:30pm and slept for 11 hours! Amazing.

Sunday: Boot camp class at my old gym, then birthday brunch at my house! Was the best!! MB made the most slammin' brunch spread ever and I believe I consumed an entire XXL size bottle of champagne (who needs orange juice?) by 4pm. Around 6pm one of my college buddies and I went down to the pier and ended up at a fun bar...where I met a cutie in betwixt taking birthday shots with fools from high school. Silly, but incredibly fun.

Monday: Rain soaked southern cal so I took it high school style and hung out at the mall with said cutie. Had a ball and concluded the day with a fabulous authentic Mexican dinner, complete with the best margaritas I've had since Cancun '07. Went home, hung with mama belle, packed my bags, and hopped on my plane at midnight. Slid into Pittsburgh at 10am Tuesday and went straight to the office. Work.

One of the disappointments with my trip home was that my bff Elaine and her daughter La-La missed their flight to LA from New York and couldn't get on another flight. She really needed this vacation and mama belle pulled out all the stops to welcome the two lovely ladies to casa de belle. She even hit up her bootleg hookup on crenshaw blvd. and got mad dvd's for La (Alvin and the Chipmunks, The Princess and the Frog, etc.). I was so very sad because if anyone deserves a vacation and some sunshine it was Elaine. And the birthday brunch was supposed to be for the both of us, as her birthday follows closely after mine. But I had to tell her that although it was unfortunate she couldn't make the trip, there must be a "reason" (as corny as that sounds) that she couldn't make the trip.

Well reason, meet KelleBelle. One of the main reasons Elaine wanted to go to LA was to meet her new niece/nephew. You see, her brother Bob lives in LA and was expecting his first child the day before we were to arrive in LA. Guess what? That baby didn't arrive until two days after Elaine would have left LA anyway! So she is now going to LA next week to meet her new niece!

On to the next coast.

Upon returning to Pittsburgh, I chatted on the telly with Elaine. I told her that since she missed the birthday brunch we should do something special for her birthday. She mentioned she hadn't had a birthday party in 10 years. Chile, that's all I had to hear. Before she could confirm her desire for a party I was already mentally planning the menu. The next day I created two versions of an Evite and told her to get ready, because the party is coming to her!

So last friday night there I was in my kitchen, feverishly baking a birthday cake, two dozen cupcakes, and assembling appetizers in my cooler. Grinning like a fool all the while. You know this is my joy! Up at 6am on Saturday, I hit the road at 7am and arrived in Brooklyn, NY around 1pm. After a stop at the liquor store and flower shop, I was in full party planning mode and turned her apartment into "Suite 457" - the hottest club on the block!

We had a friggin' ball honey and everyone loved the cocktails, appetizers, cake, oh and did I mention the tower of cupcakes adorned with "E" in various colors of frosting? This is not a game. Since I don't have a large squad of friends (yet!) in the 'Burgh I have been feening to get my hostessing game on. And for Elaine? I'd travel to the other side of the moon to honor her.

I hit the road early Sunday morning (reeking of alcohol and love!) and got back to the crib around 4pm. Passed out at 9pm and was up at 5am Monday to begin the week as usual.

A friend mentioned she's having a party in DC this weekend...I thought about it briefly, and then looked at Kingston who had the phone book open to Children's Protective Services. I suppose I should stop leaving him before he gets taken away. :)

Smooches!

KelleBelle

Twenty-Fine!

Kittens,

Today is my birthday.

As you know, KB prefers to bake birthday cakes and throw parties for other folk's birthdays...and would rather keep it moving on my birthday as if it was just another day. Of course, the annual sipping of pink champagne will definitely happen, but besides that I really don't think birthdays are that big of a deal. Especially this one.

Today, I turn 29 years of age. I thought 30 was the big birthday to get all hyped about? Well, at least the majority of my b's did. Chile, these broads lost their minds with the grand parties and vacations to commemorate them...living on earth for 3 decades. To quote my favorite host on The View, Joy Behar, "Who cares? So whaat?" I mean really, I honestly don't look at birthdays as this monumental occasion/excuse to party like a rockstar. Perhaps that's because I feel like everyday is a celebration! Real talk. I have amazing friends/family, HD TV is awesome, my booty has never been firmer, my job is the bee's knees, and Kingston is growing more fur on his head. Everyday is like my birthday! If there were more hours in the day I'd go out and dance, drink, and celebrate life every night.

So back to today. I'm in high spirits as I am known to be in. Minding my business as I am known to do. I walk into the office and begin to start my day. One by one my co-workers come in and wish me a happy birthday. Two were especially annoying.

Well wisher #1 is a new co-worker who would be considered cute in the white world, is single, and somewhat "hip."

Him: "Happy Birthday, birthday girl! So how are you feeling about 29 and almost out of your twenties?"

Me: "Um, I really don't make a big deal out of it. Just a number."

Him: "Really? I'm 33 and I loathed turning 30. I just wanted to sit in a dark room and hide."

Me: "Are you serious? I thought only girls get that dramatic. No offense."

Well wisher #2 is my favorite co-worker who is my mom's age and on her 2nd husband after a failed first marriage in her 20s.

Her: "Happy Birthday! Did I just hear (co-worker #1) say he was 33? He's single, right? Anyway, you know I didn't marry my current husband until I was 35. So there's still hope."

Me: [I get out of my chair, stand in the middle of my office, put my hand to my forehead and wipe the imaginary sweat away in dramatic fashion] "PHEW! I was really getting worried!"

Womp womp.

Then I hop on Gchat and one of my besties says, "Happy Birthday! You better make this a good year! Last year of your twenties!"

Barf.

Thanks for the reminder. It's in the same vein as those jagoffs that send New Year's greeting texts that say, "Happy New Year! Okay, let's get it! This is our year!"

What does that even mean? And unlike my bestie, the "Let's get it!" text senders are monumentally underachieving individuals. Thank you sir for reminding me to be productive in 2010. Had you not sent the text instructing me to do so, I would have quit my job, stopped paying taxes, acquire an addiction, and suck off the government/society's teet for the rest of my existence.

Anywhether, thanks for all the well wishes. I am so very excited to be going home to La-La land this weekend and relax with mama belle and a few besties from law school. While I am still lurving the 'Burgh, a girl needs some sun and sand every now and then. Nahmean? ;)

Smooches!

KelleBelle

[Ed. Note: Many thanks to Mr. "Weezy F. I got a lot of babies" for inspiring the above T-shirt, which perfectly captures my feelings towards birthdays and life in general. Well done sir, well done. ]

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