I'm Coming Out

No, not of anybody's closet either, but kinda. Anyone who knows me knows that I suffer from AD (Acronyms Disease) because I have RLS, IBS, ADD, OCD, TB, REM. You know the works, except for the big diseases with the little name. Anyhoo, amongst my many ailments is SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). Me and the winter just don't get along. I am a tropical peoples and so when it's cold outside I am like a fish out of water. I become mean, boring, and ugly. But I, button, am none of those things in real life. I am feeling very pink, yet lavender.

This past winter was a particularly rough one, and so I have swung back in the other direction and I can't handle it. I think I had all this repressed gayness and general ridiculousness that is bursting out. Do you know what it feels like to wanna go outside, but can't? To wanna sing and have it beat outcha? Well, summertime is here and things gone be changing.

I have been oozing with gayness the past few days. I have defrosted. Gone is the frigid bitch and back is the Jake. You know, the Jake you all love, hate, love to hate, hate to love, but still stick around because...well I don't know why really. I can hardly deal with myself really, which is why I stay intoxicated, but I digress.

It's too much. I have become an infinigay (infinitely gay: in, around and throughout). It's like I have a hormonal imbalance or something and I swear I am one sunny day away from a sun dress. I kid you (but I don't). I mean I am already rocking the murse that I bought in October, but haven't had the balls to carry. Now, not only do I carry it, I carry it in the most gayest way possible. Sometimes, just for the effect. It's like a lil tote. One could grab the handle with his hands or one can slide it down his arm and let it hang therefrom with forearm bent upwards or outwards. Eitherwhichway, it's gay, gay, gay.

I think I'll be back to normal soon. Normal me is playfully gay, but butch around the edges. Giggles. I can use the stability that's for sure.

UPDATE: 10 Things I don't like about Facebook...

...and a few things I do!

Alright before all you Facebook maniacs go nuts, keep it together. I'm still not a huge fan, but I will admit, Facebook is growing on me. In KB fashion, I will explain why via a list:

1. It is much neater, cleaner, safer, and non-threatening than Myspace. I hadn't been on Myspace in awhile and when I returned I was horrified to see some of the shenanigans that were going on. All sorts of inappropriateness including awfully obscene profile pictures, names, and annoying artist-types hawking their latest attempt to break into the music/film/party scene. I had to wash my face with scalding hot water to cleanse the filth that I witnessed while on a friend's page simply to wish him a happy birthday. My word.

2. You find out you have things in common with folks you previously wrote off. This is easy on FB because of those damn mini-feeds and crap that I previously complained about. I still find them annoying but they are also a good tool to learn things about people that you would normally not know or care to find out. Like having the same evening plans of eating cupcakes and watching anything on Bravo.

New things I don't like:

1. Applications. I don't like or trust them. Just because my friend added me as one of her Entourage (FB speak for "Top Friends") doesn't mean I want to have the application and hand over all my personal information to the maker of such an application. It's not fair. If I don't add it, my friend can't include my lil pic in hers? That's foul. And pushy. Meanwhile, I wonder if there is a Main B's application...

2. Feelings can still get hurt! Um, when I add you as a friend, I mean it. So when I send a message I expect a reply. The nerve! Just for that I'm definitely snubbing you the next time I see you in person and you want to look cool by chatting with KB and her bevy of beauties that make up her real-life entourage. ...Next!

Thin Line Anyone?

What do you say KB? A lil thin line for old time's sake?

Jake, that sounds like an amazing idea! Let's keep it up for the summertime. =)

Love

I love the NBA playoffs. While I am a big sports fan I am not a huge basketball fan both in denial of my gayness and my blackness. That being said I do enjoy the NBA playoffs. I watch other sports because I like them, but I watch basketball because basketball players are hizot. None are hotter than Kobe of course, but in general it's like dayum. There's Kobe, Chris Paul, Tony Parker, Mike Bibby, Allen Iverson, and so many more. Although, there is also Sam Cassel who might be one of the ugliest people evers. Bless his heart.

Jake, I agree with all of your hotties sans for Mike B. He looks way too similar to bat boy. Not a good look. Meanwhile, I LOVE WorkOut on Bravo. The trainers are a hot mess! The bulimic Angelina Jolie look-alike is a tragic but good soul. Greg is RIDICULOUSLY yummy*, the southern gent who is going down a horrible path makes me momentarily sad but I hate him nonetheless, the bi-sexual nymph who is always up to no good is hilarious, and the new weavealicious office manager (aka receptionist) who doubles as a spy for Jackie give me everything! I love Top Chef too but at least WorkOut makes me want to get in the gym and not in the kitchen.

Hate

Gays who hate gays.

Seriously KB, what is a flamboyant gay really? Can a gay be gayer than another gay? I mean there are tops and there are bottoms, but both are going to hell. And since when is it desirable to "act straight"? As far as I am concerned there is only one way to act straight and I am pretty sure you can get the kooties from it. Let's be real.

Jake, I hate haters. Honestly, I think I am at an age where it's not cool nor cute to be mean or evil just for fun. Mean Girls was based on high school girls. Not grown ass women. I sincerely wish just about everyone the best and hope everyone returns the favor. I know some folks are still evil-wishers but Karma is a B. And you look better if you are nice and optimistic. :) Trust.

Hate that I love

Janet Jackson's What Have you done for me Lately. I know, it's an oldie...but it's definitely a goodie. I can replay the intro over and over and over and over again. It goes like this:

Chick: I mean what's up with this guy do you really like him?

Janet: Yes girl, he is fine, I love him, he does a lotta nice thingsss (slights dragging of the s) for me.

Okay, so maybe you have to listen to it, but I promise you that it's hilarious. I can't stand it. I love you Janet, call me!

-Jake

Jake, you are a mess. I love Janet too. But really for her latest disc! "Feedback" makes me go WILD! Regardless if it is on the dancefloor, in spinning class, in my car, at home, walking the dog, in church. And so many different versions! And "Rock with U" is soooo good too! So smooth. Def on the baby-making playlist. Thank goodness for Janet J. Can you believe that B is 42? I mean, what in the f*ck? So I have 15 years to get that 6-pack? Cool.

-KB

*I swore I saw Greg at a party in Hollywood last night! I stared at this poor dude for 15 minutes before I realized he was a poor man's version standing in a spot light. I have discovered that most people look special in a spotlight.

The Great Fast of 2008

That's right bitches. I completed a 3 day fast where I drank 6 juices a day with water in between. It's called the Blueprint Cleanse. Loves it. It's supposed to clean the toxins out of body, which you know I need because I am what? Toxic! (that was so cheesy, but I am so going to giggle on that for days to come). But, I am either not as toxic as I thought or this fast is a joke or I am confused as to how the cleanse rids me of my toxins. I will leave it at that.

But, I just had my final juice. They weren't bad. Not bad at all. But then again the whole process wasn't bad for me. All my friends have been so concerned about me and questioning my ability to last 3 days. Truth be told, I myself was a bit concerned. Then I realized that I have flat out forgotten to eat for more than three days and the only thing that tastes better to me than a cheeseburger is a bacon cheeseburger with fries and that can only be topped by hunger pains.

Let's face it, I am a big ole gay. Or, as my good good girlfriend Fern Mayo would say- a Chelsea gay. Walking around hungry is like being on the runways of Milan. My biggest problem with the fast was remembering to drink the juice, not so much resisting food. In fact, I found 6 juices to be a bit excessive.

Anywhoots, I win, they lose. Fast is complete. How does my skin look? Wait, wait...tell me after my colonic.

Love you, mean it!

Also, turns out I lost like 10lbs. And no, I don't weigh less than a 100lbs now, but close.

Picture it!!!

New York, 2008. I am minding my own business...as I am known to do.

My boyfriend invites me to a happy hour at a bar with people from his firm. Of course I said no. As if I am going outside late at night to hang out with lawyer types. I do love a bar and especially an open bar but lawyers in bars is like a pig in a parlor. Or more like a roach in a restaurant- you hate to see them but they are almost always there. All that being said, I can't resist an open bar that's a stones throw away from my apartment. I am not completely retarded. And, let's face it- you can pretty much get me to do anything if it's near my apartment. Fortunately for me, almost everything is near my apartment. It's true.

Anyways...I go to the party with the lawyer types. Not only are they lawyers, but they are pretty much my least favorite types of lawyers. I love my guy, but his firm is filled with burn-outs, wannabes, and weirdos. But whatevs.

These things are usually filled with weird white dudes and a few desperate chicks trying to drink themselves into someone's bed. This night was no exception, except that mid-way through these bougie black chicks roll through what is essentially a dive bar. You can see the disgust in their face. They kind of walk around and get a feel for the place and then get a drink. In that time I was able to correctly guess two things about them: (1) Columbia Law grads (and probably by way of Spellman) and (2) they are drinking champagne. Okay, so I only correctly guessed 1, but I wasn't surprised to find out about two.

Well, as the night would progress I began to feel uncomfortable. And no, it wasn't because I was surrounded by ugly people, but that didn't help my comfort level. It became clear that I had to talk to these girls. They are black, I am black, and if I don't talk to them they will be talking about me. I don't make the rules, I just follow them. I could sense the tension and I was feeling increasingly guilty.

I tried to act normal but then I noticed that they were circling me and eventually...they came in for the kill. They approach my boyfriend whom they do know and he, of course, is absolutely delighted to introduce them to his boyfriend. There was a sigh, a wimper, and an honest to God outloud desperation "nooo." He dangled me in front of them and then snatched me back. And surprisingly, they felt the loss. It was as if I was their last shot at love. I imagine that for most black women the next single black man they meet is always their last chance. Within seconds they were gone.

This shit is funny. If you could have heard the "nooo" you could get a sense of the plight of the black woman. None of this was about me, but about black men in general. Who knows when those poor girls are going to come across another employed black man, let alone a professional one that's not married.

I felt so bad I actually wanted to slap my boyfriend and knock up one of those girls on GP. I mean it's a double fucking wammy. I'm gay and dating a white boy, but Churl, if you think it's difficult to find an employed straight black man, imagine what it's like to find a gay black man that doesn't work at H&M. I was angry at him as if he had committed a wrong against my people. He doesn't know the politics of that whole interaction. He doesn't know what is like! Although, you just wait until we find ourselves in front of the next desperate group of Jewish girls. Mmm hmm.

Sigh. Sorry ladies. It's not personal, it's business. It's your business actually. Ewww. But, they were so cute. I just wanted to put them on my list of single women that I have to find a man for, but that list is long and I haven't met a single straight man let alone single straight black man since like high school.

If it's any consolation to all you black women out there: I would have never married a white woman! That's trill.

Jake's Favorite Thing

is clearly Oprah's favorite things. It's not the things themselves, but the show dedicated to Oprah's favorite things. I have experienced some great things in my live and have witnessed some great things. However, nothing makes me happier than watching people react to Oprah's favorite thing show.

Bless her heart because she always surprises them and they immediately scream, jump, cry, and thank Jesus. The celebration is bigger than a Chad Johnson touchdown, a Red Sox World Series, or a Hillary Clinton primary win. These people go crazy! I get nervous just watching. I get nervous and a bit embarrassed for these people. I just want to say "pull yourself together Blanche!" They are so happy that I feel happy and all Oprah is doing for me is running up my light bill.

Seriously though, the biggest and baddest and most awesome punk'd ever would be if Oprah announced it was her favorite thing show and then say sike!!!

And meanwhile, why is Oprah eating turkey burgers? Here I am fasting at a size 2 and she's running around the country eating fancy turkey burgers. And wearing a mumu. Must be nice.

Tell me you don't love it?

Meanwhile, while Oprah is giving stuff

away Tyra is taping her show literally a block away from me and won't give me tickets. She best not let me catch her on the streets. That's trill.

P.S. I wonder if Oprah still prefers to get her hope in a jar or in an Obama?

Reason #867 Single Women Should Own a Dog

Picture it! I'm home chatting on-line with one of my b's. Suddenly, I hear Kingston growling and barking like MAD. I go check on him and see that someone had left a bouquet of flowers and a plastic bag full of stuff on the ledge of the patio wall!!! WTF? I hop on the side door steps to peep who's outside and see a thin white man in the middle of the street. He yells, "Hi, I used to live across the street 5 years ago. Did you live here 5 years ago?" And I said, "Well, yes I grew up here. But I don't think you have the right person." He says, "There's a note!" I said okay.

Weird central. So I take the bouquet, the bag, and the note inside. What in the fuck. Check the contents of the bag:

1 family size bottle of pinot grigio

1 large bottle of water

1 large can of full throttle energy drink

1 pack of gum

1 8-pack of Hershey's chocolate

Again, what in the fuck!? So then I get to the note. Which says:

"My name is Erik, I used to live here 4 years ago. I would like to get to know you either for sex now and then (F,B) or to be friends and hangout. I did not know what you like so I got a little of everything." - Erik 310-xxx-xxxx

So I immediately think, okay, this dude must have formed some crazy crush on my brother - because he lived here about 5 years ago, not me. And the note is wildly inappropriate for a woman.

Then I heard the front gate open. I let Kingston in the house and he growls like crazy.

I open the front door all hard core like I'm about to whoop someone's ass and then give Kingston the leftovers for dinner. The porch light is on and dude is under the lamp like he's in an interrogation room. I look at him in the eye and see immediately that homey is high as a mofo kite. Eyes completely bloodshot. I have never seen this dude in my life. But he was not in his right mind.

So I say, Hi, I think you have the wrong address, I'd be happy to give you back the flowers and bag of treats. And he said, no these were for you. You lived here years ago right? And I said yes but just to visit, as I was away at school, LAW SCHOOL. I am a PROSECUTOR NOW, doing mostly drug cases. And he says, "Oh wow that's impressive." Total drug thing to say. Then I say well, look I have to be up early for work and thanks for coming by because I was about to call the police and will make that call if I hear any further disturbances.

He apologizes profusely and leaves.

Just as I'm about to call my bro to take a red-eye to LA, I hear the front gate open again.

I'm pissed now. I swing the door open, Kingston in the background ready to have some white meat for dinner. Dude says, I'm sorry again, but I'd like the stuff back. I'm really sorry to keep you up. I said, fine, wait here. I lock the door, get the ish, and go back to the front door. I give him the stuff and say, "I trust this is the end of tonight's activities. If I hear the gate open one more time - for whatever reason - the police will be called and I will let my dog out first." He nods, says he understands, and leaves. But first he says he is a navel academy grad and makes a lot of money.

What the eff?! Cocaine is a hell of a drug.

All I have to say is thank God for my mangey mutt. This isn't the first time he has warned me of danger.

Black Friendly White Boys: Yay or Nay?

One of my best friends from Philly sent me a link to an article about the Valedictorian of Morehouse. Why all the hub bub? Homey is white!

I meant to post about it earlier but I wasn't able to get to it until today...and lo and behold another black friendly white man emerged onto the scene: John Edwards! I always liked him. I mean, what's not to like? He has great hair and amazing teeth. And really, that's all I need to like someone.

But back to the Morehouse story. My friend who sent the link (let's call him "Phil") is a graduate of Morehouse and although quite white-friendly himself, definitely went to Morehouse for the black college experience, which he definitely got. He told me he didn't know how he felt about Morehouse having a white valedictorian. I for one think it's a good thing (don't like it Morehouse bros? Step your game up and don't let it happen again!), but I think it really has to do with said valedictorian's background: his step-father was black and he has mixed step-siblings. This isn't a bamboozled sort of situation as I posted about here: http://jakeandkelly.blogspot.com/2007/10/bamboozled.html

Peep the article about the white Morehouse grad and let us know what you think. http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/atlanta/stories/2008/05/11/morehouseman_0512.html?cxntlid=homepage_tab_newstab

Now, moving on to Mr. Edwards endorsing Obama...one word: YUM! Can you imagine an Obama/Edwards ticket? Yum to the Yum! They'd tots get the woman/gay vote...and that's like 70% of the popular vote, no? Okay, obvs I'm not going to list the political reasons why I am behind Obama and Edwards but you can infer them on your own. After all, this is an entertainment, gossip, and fuckery blog. Hil-Bil may have gotten the incest vote in W.VA but Obama securing Edwards' support totally overshadowed any lil delegates she got. Snap!

KelleBelle to God: I get it! No more bad reality TV.

Just as my Bobby-Brown-sighting induced nightmares have subsided, God plays a funny lil trick on me.

Picture it: I'm at an Ed Hardy fashion show, cracking on all the horrific ensembles the best of the inland empire had to offer. On my way to the ladies room a lithe young man pulls me close and says, "How you doin'?" Clearly, tryna holla. I replied, "I'm fine! See ya!" And made my way through the crowd. On my way back to my crew, I pass by dude again and this time I look at him straight in the eye. He looks familiar.

I stop, and say, "Do I know you?" And he proceeds to dance around the obvious: he's been on tv. He asks me if I'm an actress and do I attend these kind of events often, clearly trying to deflect attention from his "notoriety." I press him until he finally admits he's an "actor" and has been on a few commercials, and oh, did a reality show. I almost dropped my skinny girl margarita. A-ha!!! Now I know where I know him from! I tell him my name and that I interviewed him about two years ago. For those of you who recently jumped on the KB bandwagon, I used to write a weekly review of a certain VH1 dating show spin-off starring a filthy little muppet nicknamed after a large U.S. city.

A friend of mine happened to have known one of the cast members of the show and arranged the phone call. It was a very popular post and I remember a few things from the interview: dude is very religious, works as a host at Grand Lux Cafe (black folk's Cheesecake Factory as my friend calls it), but is really an actor (no, really).

After we realize we both have each other's phone number (note to self: change phone number) from the prior interview we have a good laugh. And then homey tries to holla some more! I'm like, dude, are you serious? I decided not to break his balls too much and instead said that we wouldn't be a good mesh because he's a christian, and I'm a jew. Well apparently he lost his way since the reality show because dude said he wasn't that religious and we could definitely make it happen. Ha! I rolled my eyes, told him "God Bless," and returned to my crew, firmly believing God has sent me more than enough clues that I need to stop watching horrid reality tv.*

So...who was it?

KB

*The final straw was seeing Snoop Dogg's morbidly obese "play son" Anthony at Jerry's Deli at 3am. There are so many things wrong with this. One, why was he eating at that late of an hour? He is seriously around Star Jones obese. And two, why do I know who he is? Damn you E! and your reality programming!

10 Things I Don't Like About Facebook

So, after meeting with a well respected executive on Friday where he revealed that he and most of his colleagues were on Facebook, I finally joined. Actually, I joined the damn thing 3 years ago when I was still a grad student (just to get access to some scandalous pictures of a classmate that were all the talk on the law school campus) but only logged in once, to check said hoochie's pictures. I decided to make my on-line home Myspace because the majority of people I was actually friends with were on there.

I put "effort" into my Myspace page. And by effort I mean I uploaded pictures and chose a theme song. I refused to join FB just because I rarely go onto Myspace so why join FB? But after my convo with exec dude, I realized I had to keep up with the on-line Jones'. So off I went to Facebook.

Snooze and a half. I really don't like it. Here's why:

1. There are way too many people on Facebook. Why is this a bad thing? See #2.

2. My childhood friend's father sent me a friend request.*

3. Way too many people that I have been trying my hardest to avoid since leaving: high school, L.A., college, law school, are on Facebook. Why is this a problem? See #4.

4. The "Friend finder" makes me way too accessible! Even after I put up the san quentin of privacy settings, an old college teammate sent me a request! 6 years of dodging this person went down the drain after being on FB for 30 min.

5. Facebook makes the world too small. Call me crazy, but I like a lil' distance between me and the scary co-worker that was forcibly removed from his office after child-porn was found on his computer.

6. Too much fuckery and tomfoolery. What the eff is a "cupcake"? or a "drink"? I never heard of a Jesse Mulroney cocktail. Clearly I am not hep to the FB lingo and I really couldn't care less if I ever am. And what the hell is a "wall"? Just say post a comment!

7. Don't poke me unless you want to start some grown folk business. I'm sorry but poking somebody just sounds dirty!

8. Mini-feeds. So that's the equivalent of seeing what someone has done lately to their page? Say that then! Don't make my jerk friend from high school's action of changing his profile pic from him smoking a j at Disneyworld to him doing a keg stand in the parking lot of Six Flags a "story."

9. Tagging photos is too easy. Um, you know what Facebook? I'd like to keep that pic of me in a bikini on vacay with my girls from law school a little harder to find, k? At least on myspace you have to make a bit of an effort to tag someone in a photo. Which explains why I haven't done it.

10. My childhood friend's father requested me as a friend.

* I haven't spoken to this friend in over 15 years. I vividly remember giving pops the side-eye on more than one occassion when I caught a creepy vibe.