This Is So HILARIOUS.....To Me

Have you ever just cracked up for no good reason at all? Have you just continued laughing, with each laugh causing the next to the point that you have tears in your eyes? I definitely have. And I did today. 

Let me set the scene for you. I walked out of my bedroom into the kitchen. As I walked past the kitchen table, I saw this: 

I started laughing so hard that I ended up crying! You're probably saying, "That's just two pickles in a jar. Why on earth does she find that funny?" Well, 1. Laughter is good for the soul, and 2. I recently caught Marlon Wayans on "The Breakfast Club" radio show a few days ago.

Do you get it yet? No? Let me continue. 

He was talking about his brothers and their time on their show, In Loving Color. 

Do you get it yet? No? I'll continue. 

Do you not remember the character, Anton Jackson, the homeless guy who Damon Wayans made famous? Remember his makeshift bathroom? 

Now you get it, right? Nah? Geez. 

Just watch the video below. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1BNgRpRuWGs&sns=em

By the way, his "apartment" was the size of mine in New York. Haha. 

I Didn't Know Her, But She Touched Me

I did not write the following article. I came across it on Facebook. I read it and was saddened, yet inspired. Another blogpost detailing why will soon follow. Please read the following excerpt cut from Christelyn Karazin. You can find the entire post here.

Founder of “For Brown Girls,” and Advocate for US, Karyn Washington Committed Suicide, and I Suck.

April 10, 2014 by Christelyn Karazin

Today I’ve been whining about breaking the screen on my laptop computer and complaining about a radio show that went horribly, terribly wrong, and I missed some major news that should have been discussed and that I was remiss in reporting. Karyn Washington, founder of www.forbrowngirls.com and the “Dark Skin, Red Lips” project has died at the tender age of 22. And this was not a natural death. This was a suicide.

Washington, who dedicated herself to the uplifting of dark-skinned black girls and women, and worked so that they would have a sense of well-being, was struggling with depression and mental illness, and was unable to extend the love she gave to others to herself.

This is often par for the course with black women, who often shoulder so much burden (one of the only things the community will give us kudos for, the quintessential ‘struggle’) and to admit any weakness of the mind and body is to be considered defective. Vulnerability is not allowed. Tears are discouraged. Victims are incessantly blamed. We are hard on our women, and suffer as a result.

When your community tells you that you’re better off praying than seeking the advice of medical professionals and medication, you feel shame when you feel your mind is breaking. There is no safe place. To admit to any mental frialty is to invite scorn and mockery, accusations of “acting white.”
Because only white people suffer from depression. Only white people commit suicide.

Black women are strong.

Black women are not human.

And this is a LIE.

I have suffered for bouts of depression and anxiety for the majority of my life. When I acted out, my mother told me I was possessed by the devil and once called our minister. I told her how I felt, she told me to pray. When I became an adult and went to college, I FINALLY was given an outlet to speak on my affliction. Medication and counseling changed my life. It’s not fun sleeping for 16 hours a day and crying for no reason, or feeling like your heart is going to beat right out of your chest. Thank God for Zoloft. And I refuse to allow anyone to shame me for allowing myself to be healed.

Ladies, stop allowing others to shame you out of seeking help if you need it. African Americans are the most undiagnosed group of mental illnesses, because we are so ashamed to admit we can not always hold it down. The struggle is literally killing us. Yes; blacks may be the least likely group to commit IMMEDIATE suicide, but look around you–you’ll see black women killing themselves slowly with food, which is a more socially acceptable way to kill yourself. Look at the streets, all the boys so eager to off themselves in front of bullets. We’re committing suicide alright, but we like to take the long way around.

As far as I’m concerned, Karyn Washington is a martyr. Let her be a martyr for change. Click here to read the entire post.

Random Tag Post

The point of this tag --> Comment on the words in bold below.

Accent - This makes me think of the latest African guy that I dated. (No more Africans for me!) in person, I understood him well. On the phone was another matter. 

I Don't Drink - Coffee. I don't get the hype. To be cool these days, you must carry the white cup with the heat protectant around it and it's lid. I'm good. 

Chore I Hate - Folding clothes. There's no point. That's why My clothes are hung in the closet. It's pointless to sit around for hours folding clothes only to search thru them looking for a specific piece and mess them up in the drawers.  

Essential Electronic - My phone. Isn't that everyone's?

Perfume/Cologne - I am not a perfume wearer. I do those body sprays and lotions from Bath & Body Works or Victoria's Secret. My fave is Coconut Passion from Victoria's Secret. That ish is my drug. I remember I left the guys drooling when I used to wear Strawberries and Champagne. Their drug. 

Gold or Silver - Hmmm. Silver. 

Insomnia - Yes. My hours these days don't have to coincide with working hours, since I'm still jobless, so I stay up late and sleep late. 

Job Title - Refer to the above comment. I have been hired to one although my start date is in question and another just called me up and offered a position or two or three. Lol. 

My Most Admired Trait - Depends on who you ask. Some would say my smile but those that know me would say may silly sarcasm. 

Siblings - Yes. 3 sisters and a brother from my mom. And two brothers from my dad. I don't do that half sibling stuff. 

Time I Wake Up - Well, if you've read up to this point then you know I'm 1. Jobless and letter B. like to sleep late. So the answer is whenever. 

Unusual Talent/Skill - I'd say none. I'm very run of the mill. 

Vegetable I Refuse to Eat - Spinach - tried it and loved it. Brussel sprouts - tried em and loved em. Beets - no sir. Not gonna happen. 

X-Rays - I had a MRI last year and it was an experience. I'm claustrophobic. Thank God they were not taking images of my head. That would've meant that I'd go in the machine head first. Because they were imaging my uterus, I went in feet first. I had a mini heart attack when the girl slid me in farther than my comfort level would allow. She got the point. No more MRIs for me though. I hope. 

My Favorite Meal - Definitely salad. But if we're going out, (yes, you and I) then I would like to go to a Mexican restaurant and order enchiladas with the green sauce. Don't forget the Margarita on the side. 

The end. 

Remember Me?

Yes, I know I haven't posted in a while. I have soooo much to say; there's so many random thoughts crossing my mind. I she now share some of them with you. 

I'm back. 

I am NOT Mary Jane Pt. 3

One of my Facebook friends recently posted the following status:
Is it just me or does this bother anybody else? The 2 most popular, black female characters on TV, "Scandal" and "Being Mary Jane," are both young, attractive, intelligent, successful women and are having affairs with married men.

If you read my last post (and, hopefully, you did), you found that I considered myself to be somewhat of a hypocrite. Here's why. I love Scandal but despise Being Mary Jane. Nonsensical, right?  I started writing the first "I am NOT Mary Jane" post and at that moment, I realized my hate for the main character, Mary Jane, and my praise of Scandal's Olivia Pope. The problem lies in the fact that they are one and the same. They're both mistresses, sidechicks, and homewreckers who pretty much flaunt their relationships in the faces of the wives of the married men that they're doing.

My problem with Mary Jane lies in what she represents to the young women in my culture. She represents limits. No matter how beautiful or successful you may be, as a black woman, you don't get your own piece of the American dream in terms of marriage. There's a limit and we must share. This limit decreases our self worth and makes us devalue ourselves. You can't participate in a three way relationship and love yourself wholeheartedly. And that is the image that Mary Jane portrays, and that is the image that I can't endorse for our young girls. Hell, even our older women. That is why I despise the phrase, "I am Mary Jane." It translates to "I am low self-esteem" and "I am a woman who does not know her worth." If you knew your worth, you would know that you deserve your own in this world. You would know that sharing is reserved for recipes or pieces of clothing with your close girlfriend, not men. 

So why do I love Scandal so much? There's no one more accomplished than Olivia Pope. She has her own firm in which she fixes the lives of some if the most important people in the world, including the Leader of the Free World. Problem is she's also doing him. Before I started writing these "I am NOT Mary Jane posts," I saw nothing wrong with Ms. Pope's affair with the President because I believed in their love. I felt both were in love and he just couldn't get out of his situation. With Mary Jane, I felt that she was just the mistress and her guy was playing her. Now that I've given thought to both situations, I realize they're one in the same. Olivia shares, therefore she doesn't value herself 100%. It's hard for me to say that because everyone knows she is one tough cookie. However, she's not too tough to demand respect from her lover who treats her as a booty call in some episodes and walk away from this detrimental relationship. Remember that episode where the President treated her like his whore in that closet when he was mad at her? Ouch. 

I found this meme on the web. Encompasses this whole post.

I'm a much bigger hypocrite than I thought. Why? Because I faithfully tune in to Love and Hip Hop (and all other ratchet shows, such as Basketball Wives and Real Housewives of Atlanta). It should really be titled "I Have Low Self-Esteem and Hip Hop." What this show represents to our culture is horrendous. Our expectation of life becomes three-way relationships, throwing bottles (or the closest item you can get your hands on) and fighting as a means to conflict resolution, and no thoughts given to what our current actions mean to the future. This is leading to a whole other post.....

Bottom line, I am NOT Mary Jane nor am I Olivia Pope. I am NOT these Love and Hip Hop women either. I know my worth. I know my value. I love myself. I'm going to do what I can to make sure that other young women realize their power as well.

I am NOT Mary Jane! Pt. 2

You will get to where you’re supposed to be if you do the work. - Mary Jane Paul

Those are words to live by, but not in the context that she meant. In the words of Kevin Hart, "Let me explain."

I must admit that I don't watch "Being Mary Jane." Why? It's a combination of things. 1. I am not a fan of Gabrielle Union nor her non-acting skills. 2. I don't like what Mary Jane, her character, stands for. She is not only sleeping with a married man (more about my hypocrisy in I am NOT Mary Jane Pt. 3), but she is bothering the wife with the details. Second place is okay with her as evidenced by a speech she delivered to a group of young girls. Here's the speech:

"You know I had this great little sisterhood speech all prepared, but I seem to have left it in my purse at the table. I don’t want to talk about sisterhood, today. I know there’s a lot of professional women here, but I want to speak to the younger girls. You guys signed up for this mentorship program because you want to be successful. You want to be your mentors! You know everybody tells you: ‘Do your best so you can be number one!- But there’s another position…You know I’ve found that being number two (glances over at the wife) gives you all the glory of being at the top without all the pressures of the number one spot. See, the job of any great number two is to figure what the number one is missing, what they refused to see and what they are doing wrong. So, you know take your time, learn, be patient, get better. You will get to where you’re supposed to be if you do the work. Because remember, if you don’t somebody else will. I'm Mary Jane Paul and thank you for listening."

What??!?!! Did you really just tell these girls that it’s okay to settle for #2, even if it’s just temporary? And while you’re referring to that #2 in the business or job context, you’re really saying that it is okay to be someone’s sidepiece, someone’s mistress, as you side eye the wife of your married boo because she is in the audience listening to this crock of bull. What writer thought this up? What executive producer said, “Yes, this is a great idea. Let’s run with it!”

I can’t endorse a show that blatantly sends the message that it is okay to share a man. More than that, I can’t get with a show that shows a successful, beautiful black woman telling our young ladies, our future, that it is okay to be #2. Who has ever been runner up in a contest and said, “Yay?!” As a matter of fact, most of the contests that I’ve seen on TV, the runner up usually gets not airtime because everyone is so focused on #1. Who lives for that? No one.

Let me share something with you, I didn’t watch the episode. I haven’t watched since the first episode. But my twitter timeline was on fire as those that I follow were virtually high-fiving Mary Jane for putting the wife in her place as she sat there at that luncheon. The big deal here is the message that was being conveyed to the young ones just to put a win in the column of the side piece who keeps digging at a hurt WIFE.

No, #2 is not okay. EVER. The goal in life is to have your own. If it is not readily available at the moment, then you either wait for it or you work for it (as a #1, not a #2 in waiting). Work for it in Mary Jane’s situation means to let go of Le Loser, i.e. the married man, and put herself out there to meet Mr. Right. It’s hard out there, but it’d be worth it to not have to deal with the agony she lives with everyday as she continues sleeping with a man who can’t/won’t fully commit himself to her.

 

I am NOT Mary Jane!

My ex-boyfriend recently told me that when he went to college, an HBCU, the males were told that there were 17 females on campus for every 1 male. They were basically told to have their cake and eat it, too. And before you ask, yes, he ate his cake as well. One man was with two or three women was okay. That's what I see reflected in everyday life.

 

BET recently started a campaign geared around it's new hit show, "Being Mary Jane." Viewers are asked to send in videos where they state that they are Mary Jane and why. I've seen some say, "I am Mary Jane because my love life is complicated" and others say, "I am Mary Jane because I like sex." If you didn't know, Mary Jane is a successful newscaster and breadwinner of her family but loves a man whom she recently found out to be married. When she found out, she went through the common stages of grief: anger, hurt and so on. I am led to believe that she is living in the stage of acceptance. She's still with the married man. So now I must answer the question, why am I Mary Jane?

Well, I am NOT Mary Jane. Why? I don't like to share. I want my own man. My life is successful in all other areas, and I have the same expectations in my love life. I don't mind being by myself. Of course, I'd rather enjoy the finer things in life with a partner, but I value myself too much to be considered someone's side piece or play second fiddle to anyone when I know I deserve the best as well as my own. I love me and no one, no man for that matter, will diminish the love that I have for myself by making me share.

Don't get me wrong, I have been Mary Jane before. I have been the side chick, or mistress, depending upon which world you live in. When I was younger, all I wanted was love, love from a man. When I thought that I had found this love with a man who just so happened to have come packaged with a wife, I accepted him and his wife. Why? Because some time was better than no time, right? Because having a piece of his heart was better than not having anything, right? Because getting a "Good morning" text was better than not, right? Wrong. 

As I gotten older, I've come to realize that I deserve better. I have something to offer to someone that's not only valuable, but also one of a kind. And I deserve the same thing. Someone to offer me something that belongs only to me and no one else. I don't have to share because I wouldn't piece out my own love to more than one person. I'm better than that and I deserve better than that, simply put. 

Mary Jane can keep her part-time lover. She can continue to exchange digs with the wife. She can continue living a frustrated, secretive, addictive lifestyle. I choose better. I choose the best that life can give me. I am NOT Mary Jane.