Tuesday, May 23, 2006
I've got to laugh to keep from crying.
So I was just thinking...
I get out of my car at the credit union and am accosted by a guy who says "Do you support local artist. I got my latest CD right here for $5." I said "maybe when I come out." So after waiting 30 minutes in the damn line, I don't want to be bothered with him and his gospel rap CD. But why when Jo-Jo the "Bootleg CD/DVD" salesman yells my name (Yes, that is how many bootleg DVD's I buy) do I go over there and spend $20 copping the latest Heather Headley and Avant. That is just wrong. That's probably why I'm having such a hard time these days. Damn! I have to laugh to keep from crying.
I tell my ex-husband that I have to go to a funeral and he needs to get the boys from the bus stop after school. But then he asks me do I have a babysitter...What's wrong with this picture? I swear, I have to laugh to keep from crying.
Ok, so it hit 77 degrees yesterday and we are looking at mid eighties all weekend but why do I have to be subjected to this:
1. Just because you polish your toes, does not mean that your feet are ready to be exposed. I saw a heel so damn crusty and rough yesterday I almost threw up! And the pinky toe...nurture the pinky toe ya'll. It might be hid up under that 4th toe but it needs love too!
Pumice stone people!! It works!
2. If you are going to wear leggings (heaven forbid) invest in a thong. Unless you are coming from the gym you are already out of line. But if this is your fashion statement, I don't want to see your big ass granny panties looming out of the top of the leggings. All balled up at the thigh! What is that???
2. (b) If your panties are all up in your ass anyway, why not try a thong? It's much more comfortable. Or buy the right size. Bertha you're not a size 5 panty anymore! (I had to learn this one personally!)
3. Mr. Biker who wears biker shorts when biking. Is there a way for you to hide your balls? I'm sorry but you can't help but look, they're right there. OK, maybe it's just me.
Ok, I'm done for this week. All COMPLAINTS, HATE MAIL and anything else derogatory please don't post. I cannot be held responsible for my actions. For I know not what I do or say! (smile). Go ahead and post em', hell tell a friend or five!
I've got to laugh to keep from crying!
www.ericanmartin.com
www.2ndtimeonline.net
I get out of my car at the credit union and am accosted by a guy who says "Do you support local artist. I got my latest CD right here for $5." I said "maybe when I come out." So after waiting 30 minutes in the damn line, I don't want to be bothered with him and his gospel rap CD. But why when Jo-Jo the "Bootleg CD/DVD" salesman yells my name (Yes, that is how many bootleg DVD's I buy) do I go over there and spend $20 copping the latest Heather Headley and Avant. That is just wrong. That's probably why I'm having such a hard time these days. Damn! I have to laugh to keep from crying.
I tell my ex-husband that I have to go to a funeral and he needs to get the boys from the bus stop after school. But then he asks me do I have a babysitter...What's wrong with this picture? I swear, I have to laugh to keep from crying.
Ok, so it hit 77 degrees yesterday and we are looking at mid eighties all weekend but why do I have to be subjected to this:
1. Just because you polish your toes, does not mean that your feet are ready to be exposed. I saw a heel so damn crusty and rough yesterday I almost threw up! And the pinky toe...nurture the pinky toe ya'll. It might be hid up under that 4th toe but it needs love too!
Pumice stone people!! It works!
2. If you are going to wear leggings (heaven forbid) invest in a thong. Unless you are coming from the gym you are already out of line. But if this is your fashion statement, I don't want to see your big ass granny panties looming out of the top of the leggings. All balled up at the thigh! What is that???
2. (b) If your panties are all up in your ass anyway, why not try a thong? It's much more comfortable. Or buy the right size. Bertha you're not a size 5 panty anymore! (I had to learn this one personally!)
3. Mr. Biker who wears biker shorts when biking. Is there a way for you to hide your balls? I'm sorry but you can't help but look, they're right there. OK, maybe it's just me.
Ok, I'm done for this week. All COMPLAINTS, HATE MAIL and anything else derogatory please don't post. I cannot be held responsible for my actions. For I know not what I do or say! (smile). Go ahead and post em', hell tell a friend or five!
I've got to laugh to keep from crying!
www.ericanmartin.com
www.2ndtimeonline.net
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
I'm screaming NO. Why can't you hear me?
You know, I was just thinking. Why is that when I say no, people just don't get it?
For instance the Muslim brother on 6 mile and Schaefer. I'm waiting at the light pondering my future as an author/publisher. Wondering when am I going to find time to get my nails done as they are in terrible need of a fill-in. Wondering if I will have to time cook dinner, kick my oldest sons behind and still write a chapter or two in Straight with no Chaser before I fall asleep, when the Muslim brother taps on my window and ask me do I want the latest copy of the Final Call. I politely smile and shake my head, "No thank you." Well the brother taps on my window again and motions for me to roll my window down. I'm not in the mood but I roll it down anyway. He says, "Well what about a bean pie my queen?" "Naw, I think I'll pass on the bean pie but thank you anyway," I say as polite as I can. Why does he set the bean pie on my passenger seat and tell me I'm gon' get this bean pie? Why did I look at him and drive off with the bean pie on my seat? I said NO! Anybody eat bean pies?
My son, I love him to death. He's the cutest 6 year old out here (I'm not biased) but he doesn't quite understand NO either. So we pull up at the store and I give him the speech as we take out the two bags of bottles I've collected from the trunk. It goes: Mookie, Mommie doesn't have a lot of money so don't ask for anything. I only came here to pick up something for dinner. We have snacks at home, ok? He shakes his little head like he understands. Ok, I'm at Save-A-Lot picking up the cube steak that should have been sold yesterday so today they have it on sale. I'm walking down aisle looking for the no-name green beans because they are 30-cents cheaper than the name brand ones but can be hooked up with a little onion powder and a piece of bacon. We head up to the counter and I don't get the bags that cost a quarter because I can carry these few pieces in my arms. When I set my items on the counter to pay, why does my son have an armful of toys, coloring books, candy and crayons putting them on the counter? What part of NO money didn't he get?
The brother with the Jheri curl at the club. I'm kinda laid back at the club, got a lot on my mind. So while my girls are dancing on the dance floor I choose to stay at the bar and nurse my Cosmopolitan. A few brothers ask me do I want to dance. I decline their offers. Just kinda wanna chill, you know? Wait... is that Anthony Hamilton's Missus Big-Bone? Hey that's my jam! So I snap my fingers, move my head and bop my butt a little. Here comes Jheri Curl, "Yo baby you wanna dance? Dis my jam too." "Oh, No thank you," I say, shocked that in 2006 they still sell the stuff you need to get a curl. "But I saw you popping that ass. Let a brother show you how it's done." "Really, no thank you. I don't want to dance. I'm just chilling. But thank you anyway," I say and turn my head. So my girls are still gettin low on the dance floor. I'm on my second Cosmo and E-40's "Tell me where to go," comes on. Awww shit! Now that's my jam! I'm snapping my fingers and bopping my butt, when I feel something wet hit my face. Now I know this brother ain't kissed me on my face! Why was it his hair? "You ready to dance?" He asked looking all greasy. "HELL NO!"
Is it my mild manner or what? Damnit I said NO - take it for what it is!! Ya'll my nerves are bad!
Suggestions? Comments? Stories? Tell a few friends about my blog spot! Updated once a week!
www.ericanmartin.com
www.2ndtimeonline.net
For instance the Muslim brother on 6 mile and Schaefer. I'm waiting at the light pondering my future as an author/publisher. Wondering when am I going to find time to get my nails done as they are in terrible need of a fill-in. Wondering if I will have to time cook dinner, kick my oldest sons behind and still write a chapter or two in Straight with no Chaser before I fall asleep, when the Muslim brother taps on my window and ask me do I want the latest copy of the Final Call. I politely smile and shake my head, "No thank you." Well the brother taps on my window again and motions for me to roll my window down. I'm not in the mood but I roll it down anyway. He says, "Well what about a bean pie my queen?" "Naw, I think I'll pass on the bean pie but thank you anyway," I say as polite as I can. Why does he set the bean pie on my passenger seat and tell me I'm gon' get this bean pie? Why did I look at him and drive off with the bean pie on my seat? I said NO! Anybody eat bean pies?
My son, I love him to death. He's the cutest 6 year old out here (I'm not biased) but he doesn't quite understand NO either. So we pull up at the store and I give him the speech as we take out the two bags of bottles I've collected from the trunk. It goes: Mookie, Mommie doesn't have a lot of money so don't ask for anything. I only came here to pick up something for dinner. We have snacks at home, ok? He shakes his little head like he understands. Ok, I'm at Save-A-Lot picking up the cube steak that should have been sold yesterday so today they have it on sale. I'm walking down aisle looking for the no-name green beans because they are 30-cents cheaper than the name brand ones but can be hooked up with a little onion powder and a piece of bacon. We head up to the counter and I don't get the bags that cost a quarter because I can carry these few pieces in my arms. When I set my items on the counter to pay, why does my son have an armful of toys, coloring books, candy and crayons putting them on the counter? What part of NO money didn't he get?
The brother with the Jheri curl at the club. I'm kinda laid back at the club, got a lot on my mind. So while my girls are dancing on the dance floor I choose to stay at the bar and nurse my Cosmopolitan. A few brothers ask me do I want to dance. I decline their offers. Just kinda wanna chill, you know? Wait... is that Anthony Hamilton's Missus Big-Bone? Hey that's my jam! So I snap my fingers, move my head and bop my butt a little. Here comes Jheri Curl, "Yo baby you wanna dance? Dis my jam too." "Oh, No thank you," I say, shocked that in 2006 they still sell the stuff you need to get a curl. "But I saw you popping that ass. Let a brother show you how it's done." "Really, no thank you. I don't want to dance. I'm just chilling. But thank you anyway," I say and turn my head. So my girls are still gettin low on the dance floor. I'm on my second Cosmo and E-40's "Tell me where to go," comes on. Awww shit! Now that's my jam! I'm snapping my fingers and bopping my butt, when I feel something wet hit my face. Now I know this brother ain't kissed me on my face! Why was it his hair? "You ready to dance?" He asked looking all greasy. "HELL NO!"
Is it my mild manner or what? Damnit I said NO - take it for what it is!! Ya'll my nerves are bad!
Suggestions? Comments? Stories? Tell a few friends about my blog spot! Updated once a week!
www.ericanmartin.com
www.2ndtimeonline.net
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
The spring is upon us - Here come the ghetto weddings
Why is it that my people think of some of the darndest (yes I said it) themes for their weddings? Like the Pimps up Hoes down one. Or the Bloods or the Crips theme? What about the "I'm in love with a stripper one?"
I have to tell you the story of the most ghetto wedding I've ever attended. I will let the bride, groom and location remain nameless, but they know who they are. It was probably the hottest day in June ever recorded in history so I wasn't pleased that my cousin was making me go to this outdoor wedding. As we trekked through the city into the hood I begin to wonder exactly where "outdoors" this wedding would be held. When she pulled up onto the grass (like everyone else had parked) and turned the car off, I looked at her liked she'd grown 3 noses. "What the hell are we doing here?" I protested. She informed me that this was her fiance's cousins bestfriends little sisters wedding and he would kill her if she didn't show.
I was pissed as I instructed Gary and Mookie (my sons) to stay close at all times. We went over the whole, if you don't know their name they're a stranger and the drill on what to do if we hear gunshots thing and I felt we were ready. Boy was I wrong!
As we made our way through the groups of gansta's hanging out in front of the lot that would serve as the wedding location, I kept a smile on my face and held my sons hands tightly. My cousin spoke to "Little Ray-Ray" "Pookie" and "Trigger Finger" and kept it moving. I was on her heels so she kept turning around telling me to slow down. "Hell no," I told her. "There's safety in numbers." Finally we reached the "chapel area" that consisted of 3 fold out tents from Walmart and an arch from someone's garden.
Children were running all over the place. All the "Big Mama's" and "Ma'dear's" were safely tucked away in the tents but were sweating like runaway slaves. One had sent for a stack of the paper plates that were set up at the buffet table to use for fans. Shaniqua the big-booty Hostess showed us to 2 folded chairs and told us to set them where we wanted to and we were welcome to get something to drink. She motioned over to the baby pool filled with ice, soda and a few Colt 45's sprinkled in. I was outdone. But on a side note - why is it that my children have the best times at places like this? Out the door went the rules, they were gone like a flash, running around with the rest of the Be-Be kids. It didn't make since for me to yell because someone had turned on Lil' Jon in their F-150 with spinning wheels, to the highest volume possible.
As we tried to find a place out of the blazing sun to set our chairs I asked my cousin who had been trying to avoid me at all cost, what time was this damn thing supposed to start? She said 3 o'clock. I checked my watch it was 5:15. This was insane. Finally Shaniqua yelled at Ray Ray and told him to turn the music off because it was about to start. It was then that I was able to make eye contact with my oldest son and give him the look that said, "If you don't get your wild behind right here, right now I know something." He gathered his brother and they came to sit on our laps.
Shaniqua pulled a plastic runner from the sidewalk to the arch and switched her big behind back over to where Pookie was standing with his Colt 45. She started the Cd player that would obviously serve as the music for the ceremony. I was surprised to hear R. Kelly's "Step in the name of love" pour out of the speakers. That's when the bridal party came from behind the neighbors semi-truck that was parked on the street, ballrooming up the plastic runner to their spaces. I had to admit it was coordinated pretty well. But the most amazing thing was the Louie (not Louis) Vuitton print on the mini-dresses that the bridemaids wore. I was floored as they all wore different colors from lemon yellow to fuschia pink. They even had the coordinating platform stiletto stripper shoes. But then the groomsmen topped of their coordinating Dickie work outfits (no tuxedos for these gangstas) with matching Louie (not Louis) Vuitton baseball caps! I was outdone. The groom chose a white tuxedo completely covered in the multi-colored Louie (not Louis) Vuitton print coupled with his matching baseball cap. By now my jaw is slack and I'm showing signs of a oncoming stroke. Not sure if it was from shock or the damn sun beaming on my head!
Ok so I assume all of her nieces had to be in the wedding. So after 14 flower girls stroll down the aisle, one having to be picked up because she just didn't quite understand her job description. Two more were scolded by Ma'dear for booty dancing down the runner. Finally the grand finale - the bride.
She must have forgotten to change from work the night before because her "move something" bridal gown was missing a few necessary pieces to complete the garment. I covered my son's eyes as she did the A-town stomp down the aisle. It was A & T's all over the place. Finally they exchanged vows and the bridal party left the ceremony doing the Lean wit it, Rock wit it. My cousin refused to even look at me because she knew I was just too through with her!! Aint' love grande though? Even if it's in a ghetto/countrified setting.
What's the most country or ghetto thing you've ever seen or experienced?
www.ericanmartin.com
www.2ndtimeonline.net
I have to tell you the story of the most ghetto wedding I've ever attended. I will let the bride, groom and location remain nameless, but they know who they are. It was probably the hottest day in June ever recorded in history so I wasn't pleased that my cousin was making me go to this outdoor wedding. As we trekked through the city into the hood I begin to wonder exactly where "outdoors" this wedding would be held. When she pulled up onto the grass (like everyone else had parked) and turned the car off, I looked at her liked she'd grown 3 noses. "What the hell are we doing here?" I protested. She informed me that this was her fiance's cousins bestfriends little sisters wedding and he would kill her if she didn't show.
I was pissed as I instructed Gary and Mookie (my sons) to stay close at all times. We went over the whole, if you don't know their name they're a stranger and the drill on what to do if we hear gunshots thing and I felt we were ready. Boy was I wrong!
As we made our way through the groups of gansta's hanging out in front of the lot that would serve as the wedding location, I kept a smile on my face and held my sons hands tightly. My cousin spoke to "Little Ray-Ray" "Pookie" and "Trigger Finger" and kept it moving. I was on her heels so she kept turning around telling me to slow down. "Hell no," I told her. "There's safety in numbers." Finally we reached the "chapel area" that consisted of 3 fold out tents from Walmart and an arch from someone's garden.
Children were running all over the place. All the "Big Mama's" and "Ma'dear's" were safely tucked away in the tents but were sweating like runaway slaves. One had sent for a stack of the paper plates that were set up at the buffet table to use for fans. Shaniqua the big-booty Hostess showed us to 2 folded chairs and told us to set them where we wanted to and we were welcome to get something to drink. She motioned over to the baby pool filled with ice, soda and a few Colt 45's sprinkled in. I was outdone. But on a side note - why is it that my children have the best times at places like this? Out the door went the rules, they were gone like a flash, running around with the rest of the Be-Be kids. It didn't make since for me to yell because someone had turned on Lil' Jon in their F-150 with spinning wheels, to the highest volume possible.
As we tried to find a place out of the blazing sun to set our chairs I asked my cousin who had been trying to avoid me at all cost, what time was this damn thing supposed to start? She said 3 o'clock. I checked my watch it was 5:15. This was insane. Finally Shaniqua yelled at Ray Ray and told him to turn the music off because it was about to start. It was then that I was able to make eye contact with my oldest son and give him the look that said, "If you don't get your wild behind right here, right now I know something." He gathered his brother and they came to sit on our laps.
Shaniqua pulled a plastic runner from the sidewalk to the arch and switched her big behind back over to where Pookie was standing with his Colt 45. She started the Cd player that would obviously serve as the music for the ceremony. I was surprised to hear R. Kelly's "Step in the name of love" pour out of the speakers. That's when the bridal party came from behind the neighbors semi-truck that was parked on the street, ballrooming up the plastic runner to their spaces. I had to admit it was coordinated pretty well. But the most amazing thing was the Louie (not Louis) Vuitton print on the mini-dresses that the bridemaids wore. I was floored as they all wore different colors from lemon yellow to fuschia pink. They even had the coordinating platform stiletto stripper shoes. But then the groomsmen topped of their coordinating Dickie work outfits (no tuxedos for these gangstas) with matching Louie (not Louis) Vuitton baseball caps! I was outdone. The groom chose a white tuxedo completely covered in the multi-colored Louie (not Louis) Vuitton print coupled with his matching baseball cap. By now my jaw is slack and I'm showing signs of a oncoming stroke. Not sure if it was from shock or the damn sun beaming on my head!
Ok so I assume all of her nieces had to be in the wedding. So after 14 flower girls stroll down the aisle, one having to be picked up because she just didn't quite understand her job description. Two more were scolded by Ma'dear for booty dancing down the runner. Finally the grand finale - the bride.
She must have forgotten to change from work the night before because her "move something" bridal gown was missing a few necessary pieces to complete the garment. I covered my son's eyes as she did the A-town stomp down the aisle. It was A & T's all over the place. Finally they exchanged vows and the bridal party left the ceremony doing the Lean wit it, Rock wit it. My cousin refused to even look at me because she knew I was just too through with her!! Aint' love grande though? Even if it's in a ghetto/countrified setting.
What's the most country or ghetto thing you've ever seen or experienced?
www.ericanmartin.com
www.2ndtimeonline.net
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Why the low attendance in Detroit events??
After a much needed meeting with the self-publishing guru , Sylvia Hubbard, I came home and sat down at my computer to start a blog. "What the hell do I put in a blog?" I asked myself. Who has time in today's society to make an online journal? Well I don't know what rock I've been under but millions of people do! Forgive me people, I'm a slave to my writing, my kids and family, my company and my authors - I really didn't think I would have time for this. But here we go.
I attended a Book Expo yesterday here in Michigan and I was astounded by the lack of support and attendance. No I take that back, I wasn't shocked because most events I've attended or participated in here in Detroit have been like this. It brings me back to the days when I thought only white people wrote and read books. But you step over the state lines and it's like you've stepped into a whole different day and time in African American readership and authors alike.
Yes there are many writers and published authors locally but where is the support of these local authors at local literary events? Because don't get me wrong, I can trudge to each and every barber shop or beauty salon and sell out of my books or I'm constantly refilling my inventory at the Truth Bookstore in Northland but why don't people come out to events?
Last year my tour took me to places like New York, Chicago, Indianapolis, Las Vegas and Houston. I couldn't believe the attendance and support in these cities. Don't blame it on the size of the city because Detroit is a major city. Indianapolis and Chicago are crazy supportive! They don't need to know what the book is about, they're just happy to see you doing your thing and they want to support any black author they run into. So my question to you is: What do we as local authors in Detroit have to do to rally the interest in attending literary events in here? What can we do to make you come to us instead of us bothering you while you sit under the dryer at the salon?
http://www.2ndtimeonline.net
http://www.ericanmartin.com
I attended a Book Expo yesterday here in Michigan and I was astounded by the lack of support and attendance. No I take that back, I wasn't shocked because most events I've attended or participated in here in Detroit have been like this. It brings me back to the days when I thought only white people wrote and read books. But you step over the state lines and it's like you've stepped into a whole different day and time in African American readership and authors alike.
Yes there are many writers and published authors locally but where is the support of these local authors at local literary events? Because don't get me wrong, I can trudge to each and every barber shop or beauty salon and sell out of my books or I'm constantly refilling my inventory at the Truth Bookstore in Northland but why don't people come out to events?
Last year my tour took me to places like New York, Chicago, Indianapolis, Las Vegas and Houston. I couldn't believe the attendance and support in these cities. Don't blame it on the size of the city because Detroit is a major city. Indianapolis and Chicago are crazy supportive! They don't need to know what the book is about, they're just happy to see you doing your thing and they want to support any black author they run into. So my question to you is: What do we as local authors in Detroit have to do to rally the interest in attending literary events in here? What can we do to make you come to us instead of us bothering you while you sit under the dryer at the salon?
http://www.2ndtimeonline.net
http://www.ericanmartin.com
