Pinky Promise

As Thanksgiving weekend comes to an end, I figured I should tell y’all what I did this week.  This past week most have taken to social media to state what they are thankful for. Some answers are pragmatic, right? Folks are grateful for their jobs, a place to live, the ability to provide for their family. Some answers are based in religion. People are glad that their higher power has given them another day to strike a mark and leave an impression on this Earth, their country, their community. What am I grateful for? Family Over Everything.

This year, our family was hit with some health challenges, very unexpectedly. Many of you know that the youngest sibling is 9 and I am the oldest (and it is totally none of your business how old I am... just know that I am NOT 9!) Currently our 10 year old sister is being treated for bone marrow failure. Now if you are like me, you have no idea what that is or how to fix it! So, a few things: the major function of bone marrow is to produce blood cells. Red blood cells (oxygen giving), white blood cells (infection fighting) and platelets (helps blood clot so you don’t bleed to death from a simple cut). So, simply (because I went to law school not medical school... for a reason) bone marrow functionality is necessary for life, and bone marrow failure is all bad. It isn’t cancer but my sister is being treated on the oncology floor and some of her treatment includes chemotherapy.

When we found out that she was going to go through chemo, one of her concerns was losing her hair. I gave her the speech I have given all of my friends going through chemo. “If you lose your hair, I’ll cut mine too! We will be twins!” Because truly, no one should be bald alone. It is a small sacrifice so that a 10 year old (or a 40 year old) doesn’t feel so alone while going through life sustaining treatment. Well, she hasn’t lost her hair! What to do, what to do!!

Sooo- we had another discussion and I told her that since chemo didn’t take her hair, I would dye my hair her favorite color. What is my 10 year old sister’s favorite color, you ask? Pink. Last Tuesday I went into a salon with regular, smegular dark brown hair... oh, but now... I’m the Black version of Frenchie from Grease. Baby, this hair is PINK. Like, the color of Peppa Pig. Like, that Bubbalicious gum from my youth. Pink, like... pink. And I’d do it again. Family over EVERYTHING.

Fearless

I said a prayer for you last night. It was a selfish prayer. I asked God to give you more time; to not take you from me, from your wife, from your friends. I wanted some extra time to hear you laugh while telling me a story. I wanted another hug. I wanted you to see my big baby one more time. It was selfish. I wanted to make sure you got to stay here... because I don't want you leave us.

I recognize that I said the wrong prayer. I asked God to keep you here (for all of us), when I should have been asking him to spare you any more pain. I should have asked God to open up his arms and take you into Heaven on maize and blue colored clouds (just for you). I should have thanked him for all the years we have had with you so far-- those years when I saw you working with mom and dad. All those times that you told me that I could be anything I wanted-- even if I wanted to be bossy (thank you, ma'am). All the times you told your friends that they should read this blog. All the times you told me that I should quit whatever job I had and be a full time writer. I should have thanked God for our reconnection last year... and you meeting my baby (honey, WHO thought that would have ever happened!?) and my husband. I should have thanked God for allowing you to see mom and dad again; for our group prayer; for picking up RIGHT where we left off. 

My dearest Fran: you are the epitome of family. Let me tell you: blood couldn't make us any closer. You always met folks with a smile, a pat on the back, a hilarious story about some mishap. You showed me what it meant to be comfortable living your truth-- and you did just that. When necessary you never hesitated to call people by their correct name (like asshole... and I PROUDLY carry on that tradition). You are a building block in the life of this Hot, Black and Bitter woman. We go together like permed hair, acid washed jeans and the 1980s (you remember THOSE pictures?! Yikes). THANK YOU FOR LOVING US. I love you and I will forever be grateful that God put you in my life. 

Fed Up Friday - Mental Health Check Up

Can we have a talk about mental health? I mean, like, a real conversation about mental illness. Not some surface "Oh, it happens to other people" type talk. And definitely not one of those "I don't know anyone with a mental illness" talk. Because you do. You DO know someone who suffers from a mental illness.

I can only write about what I know-- and what I have seen in the Black community is that we, as a whole, pretend that mental illness doesn't affect us. So, if we have an uncle that is depressed, we never say that is what it is. We say shit like "Aye, he has never really bounced back from ___" and let it be that. If we have a schizophrenic brother, we say shit like "that is just how he is," never acknowledging that he could pose a danger to himself or others. We don't talk about suicide attempts, PTSD, Down's Syndrome, Bipolar Disorder, etc. Nothing that makes us look like we are weak. Nothing that makes it easier for others to point out our faults. We admit nothing. Or if we do acknowledge that there may be a problem, we try to pray it away. Prayers with no other action. Honestly, it is sad. 

There are men and women in our community that we are doing a complete disservice by continuously pretending that whatever issues they may struggle with don't exist. They do. These illnesses are real. By denying the existence of these illnesses we allow the stigma to continue; we allow a cancer to continue to grow, unchecked; we allow some of these illnesses to continue to be passed from parent to child, awarding our silence with more illness. All because we don't want other people to perceive us as weak. But when DO we talk about it? When does that time come? When do we start to pair all these prayers up with some action that will help ourselves? 

Let me tell you when we will finally say something... when someone dies or does something harmful. Then we are willing to talk about *possible* issues. Let's look at the present state of Bobbi Kristina Brown. For the longest time we have said nothing about what the death of her mother may have done to her, right? We didn't say anything when she came out and said that she want to marry her "brother" Nick Gordon. We didn't say anything when her appearance started to change. But now-- now that she is in the hospital, possibly still in a coma, now we want to come to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe she has been depressed. It isn't just the Black community, but America in general. Remember when Robin Williams died? Ernest Hemingway, his granddaughter Margot Hemingway, Dorian Gray,  Lee Thompson Young, Simone Battle, Kurt Cobain, Freddie Prinze (the dad, not the son), Phyllis Hyman, Carroll O'Connor's son Hugh... the list goes on and on. We actively ignore people's problems, problems that are noticeable, until we no longer can. At that point it is also too late to help. 

We need to sit down and have an honest conversation about mental illness in our communities. We need some innovative thinking to help those suffering. We need to make that help available, without any stigma attached. We need to make sure that we aren't just trying to "pray the crazy away," but instead we pair our prayers with love and WORK towards a plan that will help those in need. We need to insist that our brothers, sisters, cousins, grandparents get help... before it is too late.

**Suicide Prevention Hotline 1.800.273.8255; Boy's Town National Hotline 1.800.443.3000; Mental Health America 1.800.969.6642**

1950s Mentality - A Beginning (House)Wife

A little glimpse into the life of Hot, Black and Bitter: I love history. In fact, both Lefty and I have undergraduate degrees in History. My concentration in undergrad was 20^th century American history, mostly the 1960s. I love the turbulent times of the 60s. I love to look around and see the changes that have taken place because of the selflessness of some in the 60s; the simple audacity of very few that sent an entire country into change. For me the idea of THAT was awe inspiring. I read the news and see the correlation of things happening today and what happened 50 years ago. Life is cyclical and all, just in case you were wondering!

A few weeks ago I was talking to a friend about the 1950s and how a direct turn from that decade led directly to the movements of the 1960s and how awfully hard I thought those women of the 19502 had it. I mean, they had lived through and been single parents during the war, most born right before the Great Depression. These are the parents of the "Baby Boomers" the most talked about generation... Ever (it seems sometimes). These women (generally) were still participating in very traditional gender roles, they worked in (and showed pride in) the home, raised kids, doted on their husbands and did all the housework. I'm just going to repeat that... Yeah, that is right, they did all the housework. All of this and I am pretty sure they would be (rightfully) shunned if they wore yoga pants everywhere. So I, of course, started to think... "Could I make it as a 50s housewife? First thought? Absolutely not. First, Lefty and I work different shifts and don't spend lots of time together during the week. Secondly, I don't dote. On anyone. Ok, maybe my mother. Possibly. Third, when I think of the perceived attitude that was necessary to thrive in the 1950s... not necessarily subservient, but definitely, um, gracious, that is not the attitude I got. All jokes aside, it is really not my forte. If I am being honest. 

But I have decided to give this a shot anyway. For the next month I am going to be as much of a 1950s wife as I can be. I am thinking that I can take back our home from the cat hair that is floating around, the (still) unpacked boxes that litter the library, the animals that supposedly bring joy into my daily life. Plus, I am sure that Lefty would appreciate a home cooked meal occasionally.  Clearly there are some limitations. The internet was not around in the 50s... and I am NOT giving it up for the next month. Ain't happening. Besides, how can I report on all my mishaps? Internet time will be *slightly* limited though. I will post on the blog but time on Facebook is going to decrease... I am sure that it will have to since I will be spending a lot more time doing other things... like chores. Also- I am not taking a month off work-- so I will have to participate in this experiment during off hours and on the weekends. That generally means that I will be cooking at night and Lefty will be eating it the next day. Ah, the evils of him working second shift. I will post updates, successful recipes, catastrophes, cleaning schedule and (possible) outfits of the day, if I am looking super fabulous. 

I know that I won't be able to totally immerse myself in the time period, but I am going to try my best to show pride in my family, home, husband and get the feel of a 1950s wife. Let's cross our fingers that I make it the whole month!! 

Let's get after it, 50s style! (Be prepared for a few history lessons too... and I am not sorry about it!) 

Love At First Bite?

Ahhhhh - last week. I have (mostly) recovered so I can talk about it now. Let's all imagine getting dressed for work - minimal lighting (that happens when your spouse works second shift and you work first). Such is my life. Every day. So Thursday morning I was getting dressed, spent a few minutes loving up on the dogs and went to brush my teeth. I came back and the blonde dog was asleep on the foot of the bed. I bent down near his face, to put on my shoes-- startled him-- got a bite to the left cheek. Color me unhappy. I mean, I hadn't even had any coffee at this point. We woke up Lefty, who took me to the bathroom and helped me clean my wound and got me out to work with a band-aid on my face (I looked SO classy-- you are jealous!) It was uncomfortable but it wasn't swollen and I took that damn band-aid off in the parking lot of my job.

Fast forward to Friday around noon. I looked like I was getting a hunchback… on my freaking face! It was warm to touch, swollen and red (yes, Black people can have noticeable red skin, silly!) I left work early and my wonderful Lefty got me an appointment with his doctor. I stroll in with my face, which was getting more and more deformed as the moments flew by, while wearing my sock monkey hat-- don't judge me, I was injured. I got weighed (OMG-- trauma to my ego and any mental stability I thought I had) and head over to an exam room. My personality doesn't stop just because I am growing a small midget on the left side of my face, so I chuckled it up with the nurse while we were waiting on the doctor. Lefty's doctor walks in. She is nice… and looks shocked at the growing mound. She asks the story, I tell her. She tells me what I already knew, tetanus shot and some antibiotics. She was so smooth with it though - she kept looking at my face and when she gave me the script for the antibiotics she said "you need to get this filled…as soon as possible when you leave here." That is doctor code for "your shit is really fucked up and you should get these drugs on board ASAP."

I really did not want to get a tetanus shot either. It isn't that I can't get shots, I spent a week in ICU a few years back (shots galore); it really is that I don't WANT to get shots. You would think that with all this technology around here, there would be an easier way to quickly administer drugs. I mean shots? They are so 1890. Or at least that is what I tell myself when I have to get a shot. Ack. Back comes the nurse. I, quickly, tell her that I am not a fan of what she is peddling. I don't want that damn shot. For real. She tells me if it hurts I can punch her. I begin to soften at the idea of getting tortured by the needle. Just kidding-- I am not hitting some random stranger (Read: THIS time). She gives me the shot. Honestly, it really wasn't bad. Sincerely. I still made her give me a Shrek band-aid. And as I was leaving, I totally copped a sticker that says "I was great"… They may never have me in for another appointment again.

If you are reading this and smiling, say a prayer for Lefty. Last weekend was trying for him (not that he would ever say). I am notoriously the WORST patient ever and he was a gem (even for the face leaking pus stage-- you ARE welcome for that imagery). The dog in question: naps frequently, wakes up and wags his tail at me. He takes being relegated to the dog bed as an adventure. He has no worries in the world. Me? I still have a sore cheek. Such is life.

Wedding Whimsy - A Date (Finally)

You know when someone asks you a simple question, really simple, like "Oh, you're engaged? When are you getting married?" and you are instantly annoyed because you don't know the answer? So annoyed that you really feel like this person has invaded your privacy and should be slapped for it? Oh, no? That is just me? Oh, ok.

Since Lefty and I have announced our engagement everyone and their mother (literally) has been asking us when, when, when (???) and we have been ignoring the question. Seriously, right after someone gets engaged is so not the time to ask when they are getting married. One- you may not be invited to the shindig and two, if they wanted you to know AND they actually had a date, um, they would tell you, right? Right.

I know that a few people have been worrying themselves crazy about the date/time/plan for our wedding. Well, relax your minds people, we have settled on a date. We are getting married on Monday, December 23. We picked a Monday because we are going to have a very (VERY) small City Hall ceremony. When I type VERY small I really want you to read only our parents, siblings and the officiant will be in the room with us.

I know that this will upset some people- but let's not worry, we have planned ahead for that also. We are having a holiday/engagement/reception party on December 21 (time/place/details to be announced later). Yes, you read that right... it is BEFORE the wedding. This is where we will be inviting some of our friends and family members. We have also found a place to hold this lovely shindig (yay!!) so we are kicking things into high gear (just in enough time, since we have less than 8 months to put this whole thing on!) We have planned to keep both affairs very small - on purpose. And nontraditional - on purpose. I will not be headed down the aisle in a long, poufy white dress. I won't make Lefty wear a tux. We aren't following socially accepted wedding habits (hence having the reception FIRST). We are really going to make this wedding and celebration exactly what we want, which is exactly how every wedding SHOULD be.

I am sure that I will update the blog with our progress and hopefully I will post reviews on products that I try out in preparation for our two days of planned good times. Check out Instagram (hotblackbitter), Twitter (hotblackbitter) and the Facebook page for up to date updates! ;)


 

Eat, Drink and Be... Married.

Holy shit, this has been a crazy week. Not only have Lefty and I been working six days a week for what seems like an eternity, Valentine's Day was Thursday and we got engaged. What?!?!?! Read that last part again!! :-) We got engaged. I am not generally one for surprises and Lefty knows that, so how he pulled this off... I am still baffled.

We decided to have a day date- because we work the night shift at a local manufacturing plant and we had to work Thursday night. He came to my house at 12:30 for a surprise and lunch. He was bearing gifts. I am not one for flowers all the time, but I do LOVE candy. He had this in hand:

There was THE sweetest card I have EVER received and a bouquet of sorts...

That would be a bouquet of Fruit Gushers. Does this man know me, or does he know me? I guess I should have known that something was up when I noticed that Lefty was wearing a tie (he never does that), though I did quickly realize where we were headed... because said tie had books on it. 

One of the first dates that we had was at the Columbus Metropolitan Library. I took him. We are book nerds. Seriously. The history section of the library gives us life. I'm not kidding. Lefty was a history major during his Buckeye years, and history was one of my majors when I was partying it up in Oxford, Ohio so when I say that we can devour stories of the past, know that it is not an exaggeration. Also the Main Library opened in 1907... more history. I was so excited as we pulled up to the library- whatever, I attribute my giddiness to book dust (or something!) :) But seriously, how can you drive up to this building and NOT be excited?!?!?! 

Amazing, right? 

We walked around for about 45 minutes. History section, of course. After about 45 minutes I was getting hungry (Note: I am an eater. I like food. Real food. Not a salad orderer at restaurants!!) Me: "ok, babe- you ready to go eat?" Him: "yep!" I checked out a book and started to head for the side door. 

The Main Library has been revamped since the last time I lived in Columbus, so before we left, Lefty asked if I had seen the front entry way since I'd moved back. I hadn't, so we headed up the marble stairs (right inside the front doors) to check out the second level where there is an art gallery and the administrative offices. We checked out the small art gallery, the flowers that are carved into the ceiling and the beautiful stained glass windows (you can't tell but they are the semi-circles in the picture). I was so busy looking around at this wonderfully quiet, beautiful place with the sunshine shining on me through these amazing stained glass windows that I didn't even notice that Lefty was on one knee! 

Me: "What are you doing? Oh..."

Him: "You make my life incredible. I can't imagine being without you. [Insert my FULL name] will you marry me?" 

He then told me to check my text messages. While we were in the gallery he text messaged me this: 

Yeah- we are scrabble nerds also. Ha!! How sweet is that?! 

Oh yes, it was amazing. AMAZING. Short, sweet and freaking amazing!! I said yes... we went to lunch (yay!!) and then to work (boo!) 

As for the ring: he did a fabulous job. I am not really a diamond kinda girl and I don't want something that everyone else has. PLUS, I have a job where wearing jewelry is sometimes problematic. Well, he got my ring in Paris... so I doubt that women will be running around with the same ring on :) I love it and the wedding bands (diamonds) that will go with it will fit around its curves. 

All in all... Thursday was about the BEST day EVER (minus the working part). It was perfect for me; for us. Lefty has made me an amazingly lucky, loved, respected, hot, Black and bitter woman. You can't see me right now, but I am totally smiling- and have been since we met. 

Soulful Saturday - Showing Some Ohio LOVE

Ah, being back in Ohio has aided my memory of all the things I love about this state-- and some things I absolutely can not stand. The things I can't stand are very few in number... :) One thing I cannot get enough of is the music made by lovely, proud Ohioans in groups that were developed in my home state. Groups that I love listening to, grooving to, making memories to. Love, love, love, showing Ohio love to the members of these groups who have walked where I've walked, seen the things/places that I have seen, loved the state of Ohio... like I love it! :)

The Ohio Players - Sweet, Sticky Thing
(Dayton, OH)



Zapp and Roger - I Wanna Be Your Man
(Dayton, OH)

 


The Isley Brothers - For The Love of You
(Cincinnati, OH)



The Deele - Two Occasions
(Cincinnati, OH)
** some of these people should look very familiar (like Babyface and LA Reid...)




Over the Rhine - Latter Days
(Cincinnati, OH)

A Decade of Sorrow

Today is September 11. This date is etched in the minds of all Americans old enough to realize that the life we had a decade ago will never resurface in the same way again. I've written about the sorrow and the pain that we all undoubtedly felt as we watched the twin towers crumble, along with our faith in mankind a decade ago. I've written about my feelings, what I was doing, and that fact that I, like most of my peers, will never forget exactly what I was doing on that fateful day. As I watched a morning full of tribute shows, interviews with military strategists, family members of those who perished and children who were born on the now most infamous day in recent American history, I knew that this year's September 11 post would be different.

This year, I am still sad... of course. I am still praying for the family members that were left to put the pieces back together. I still feel pain when I see the accident site in Pennsylvania, when I look at the memorials at the Pentagon and Ground Zero. A decade later, it is still upsetting to see the playback of smoke billowing from both towers, faces covered in ash, people running for their lives down the streets of New York City, photos of posters of family members that would never be seen again. Even a toughy like me has problems processing that kind of hurt. But, my question this year is: we know what happened a decade ago... what have you done in the last decade?

So many times we allow years to just fly by. We graduate from college, get jobs and get stuck in a routine. A routine where we breathe but don't live. Do you know what I mean? We do responsible things like pay bills, go to work, etc. Those things are necessary and commendable but don't always allow for us to be passionate. Don't allow for us to make spur of the moment plans, or do what we really love- even if it is just on the weekends. Routines allow for us to stay in positions that may be stifling (read: jobs, relationships, etc.) That should change!

I don't know why someone would have enough hate in their lives to orchestrate something like those terrorist attacks. I am not sure what would ever motivate a person to commit suicide in order to punish/kill people that they don't even know. I don't know why anyone would feel the need to kill someone that has never done wrong to them. The one thing that I do know from September 11, 2001 is that you never know what could happen. You never know when your end is coming. So you should live the best life you can every day. You like photography? Take some classes, or get outside and take pictures. You want to travel-- do it! You want to go back to school? Do that. Love with all your heart; say everything that you really believe; tell all the people that you love how you feel-- not just on birthdays, or anniversaries-- every day. We should all have a sense of urgency. Life is so short and we should do everything that we are passionate about before our candles of life are blown out. Live the dreams that you have. Love people. Do not become complacent-- we are all here for a reason, therefore, we all have work to do. Get after it.

Oh, Yes he did! Boris Kodjoe and Twitter

Heavyset African American women are lighting Twitter up because of a series of tweets sent by Boris Kodjoe (see above) with his super sexy self. Now, before y'all start lighting up my email (don't embarrass yourself, by the way) I'm going to say what you don't want to hear: I ABSOLUTELY agree with what he said and someone HAD to say it.


Now, I am not one for spreading untruths (is that a word? :)) so I am going to quote a couple of his tweets. "...Had nightmares though about 300 pound women in thongs gnawing on chicken wings while grinding on me. Scary" "Ok, people. Just to make it clear. I love all women!..." "And we as a community have to be more conscious of our health. The numbers are shocking" "No more excuses! High Blood Pressure and diabetes do not 'run in your family'. Pork chops, mac n cheese, and tons of soda do! #stopitnow" Boris also added some fat excuses- things we say to ourselves that make it ok to not be healthy. My favorite was: "#fatexcuses 'MEN LIKE THICK GIRLS' There's a difference between a healthy and sexy stacked goddess (easy Boris!) and an unhealthy obese one."

Feel free to go to his Twitter account and read all the tweets that he laid out. Now, listen... I love (almost) everybody. My personal motto is: if you like it, I love it. I don't care if you are 100 pounds or 400 pounds, how you live and what you do-- to yourself-- is up to you. There are significant problems with anorexia in this country AND obesity. As long as your behavior does not affect me and my eating habits, have at it. I don't want anyone telling me what to do in my kitchen, bedroom or life-- I, therefore, will not venture out and tell you what to eat, who to sleep with or how productive to be. Do you, because I am POSITIVELY going to do me. With that said, I have no issue with Boris calling women to task-- AT ALL. He wasn't being being mean spirited (like this entry) and it seems as though his tweets came from a concern for health in the Black community. I can roll with that. I like it, in fact.

The statistics that he tweeted are true. The excuses that he tweeted are ones I've heard before. I can't tell you how many times I have heard "I'm not fat, I'm thick!" Ooo-wee, don't say that!! We all know that there is a difference and we all know that being skinny doesn't always mean that you are healthy. We ALL know that. But while we all know the above, here is what I want all of you to realize/accept/and LOVE: just because you LOVE the way you look, the way your life is going, the person that you are with, etc. that, in NO way means that everyone is going to love the choices that you make. If you are being the best that you can and you are consciously making an effort to get in shape or not, to gain weight or lose it, make sure that you are comfortable in your own skin and ready to take some criticism. The way I see it, the only reason way ANYone would take offense to those tweets is if they were overweight and had a self esteem issue. Like Boris tweeted: "I love women that love themselves." So, love yourself-- if you are 100 pounds or 400 pounds. Love every stretch mark, line, wrinkle, lazy eye, ugly toe, chipped tooth, every inch of what you got... or get your ass out there and change it, but not for Boris. Do it for you.

It Gets Better- Chicago

Now, I am NO Chicago cubs fan... but this is awesome- even for them (a little league team.) :) Seriously- the message needs to be heard, no matter who is telling it...
It gets better!!!

A Father's Day Plea

Happy Father's Day!! Previously, on Father's Day, I have posted my ode to dad, happy posts... this is not one of them. Well, not entirely. This morning, I involved myself in a controversial facebook conversation. Not controversial to me, per se, but clearly for the guys involved, the following is a touchy subject.Who knew that Father's Day was a touchy subject? Not me, because I have a great dad and I tell him so all the time.

Ok- so my friend posted a status calling out a couple of her friends that are upset (to say the least) because single mothers- and others- are getting accolades on Father's Day. Their contention? It is Father's Day and therefore all accolades should be to fathers and fathers only. Hmmm- I disagree and I said as much (shocker). There were several jabs taken, race was brought into the conversation (not be me) and an air of defensiveness sprang into being. So let me put my opinions in writing, so that there is no question as to what I feel on the subject.

The first thing: no one is going to tell me shit. If I want to tell my sister, who is a single mother, happy Father's Day... because she (with the help of my parents) do the job of two parents because her child's father is a low life, I'll do that and you'll like it. I'm not asking for permission to say what I want, and if you don't like it then that is too damn bad. Secondly: would it be nice if every person that became a parent treated it as a privilege denied to many and a job of the utmost importance? Yes. Does that happen all the time? Hell no. So let's lay out some facts, they help people take off the blinders sometimes. 1- in generations past there used to a stigma of shame for BOTH parties involved when there was a child born out of wedlock. Women used to be sent away to have the baby and men used to be forced into marriage. 2- people were a little more chaste in the past, or at least a lot less vocal of their conquests. In a time where lives are made and broken on social networking sites, your secrets are soon revealed to everyone you know. 3- as much as some people would like to argue, the fact remains that there are thousands upon thousands of children growing up without knowledge of one of their parents (possible both parents). Grandparents, aunts, uncles and non family members are raising a new generation of children and for those heroics, they deserve whatever I can give them- father's day or not.

I am not saying that there should be a feeling of shame if an unplanned pregnancy pops up. I mean, when these practices of forcing families to be together and sending off unwed mothers to bare children in foreign lands was taking place society had more than a few ridiculous customs that were also in practice (um, slavery, women not working outside of the home, women only being able to be teachers- if they were granted an education at all, not recognizing domestic partnerships, etc). What I am saying is this: if the dynamic has changed and you will skip from bed to bed, or leave a woman unmarried and in a financially precarious position as she is taking care of YOUR child, then you don't deserve for anyone to greet you with cheers and happiness on Father's Day, least of all ME. I'm not saying die a virgin if you have never been married, but the trend of having several women serve as mothers to your offspring - and not giving the mothers or the children any love, help, time - has GOT to stop. If you do have several "baby mamas" (hate that term), then maybe you should learn how to use protection or better yet, spend some time getting yourself under control. Either way, guess who won't be getting a Happy Father's Day from me? I don't care if you "smashed" this weekend... even if your facebook status screams it. But, if in 9 months you have a baby because of that activity, shouldn't you be the first in line to be responsible? You were the first to let us all know you got laid-- now be the example of what a man should do to that child you created. AND IF YOU REFUSE OR CANNOT BE A FATHER AND SOMEONE ELSE DOES YOUR JOB, then fuck you- I'm telling them Happy Father's Day. Fuck your little itty bitty feelings. Where are you the rest of the year? Guess what? That child needs to eat every day, not just when you can send some extra money. They grow fast & need new clothes, not just when you can get it together long enough to send something. The mother of your children wasn't a whore when you were clamoring about getting in her pants, and even if she was... guess what? She is NOW the mother of your child and should be treated better than a prostitute. How about this: NO court should have to MAKE you take care of your children. WTF. You want to be mad because I tell someone of the opposite gender Happy Father's Day? Um, seems to me that there are bigger problems to be discussed.

Some chick told me that I should not attack men who aren't "the fathers that they hope to be for a number of reasons." What in the hell are you talking about? Being the father that they hope to be? They should have thought about that before they started having children. Once the baby is here, you cease having time to think about, or make up excuses as to why you aren't the father that you hope to be. BECOME HIM. And we, as women, need to STOP giving excuses as to why fathers are not doing what they need to do. Screw that. That is your kid you are flaking out on. That child is half you-- you should NOT feel comfortable walking away from him/her. You SHOULD feel bad if you are not giving your baby 100%. All day and every day I will correct ANYONE that is not doing right by a child. Know why? Because kids can NOT do for themselves. They didn't ask to be born and parents are responsible for getting them to where they need to be. Being the parent you hope to be? That shit is laughable and you should be ashamed of yourself that you even said that in a public forum. If you give people excuses, they will run with them... and not being active in a child's life is NOT something that there is an excuse for- EVER.

Make no mistake- this post is directed at both sexes. Some mothers fall into the category of being no good and thinking only of themselves, just like some fathers do. Here is my point from all my angry rants- here and on facebook: parents take several different shapes. They can be moms and dads, just moms, just dad, cousins, uncles, aunties, grandmas, granddads, foster parents, adoptive parents, birth parents, friends, mentors, ANYTHING. You know what makes a parent? Caring for and guiding a child into maturity; molding them into being a great, productive human being. There is NO gender to that. There is no one person that HAS to do that. There is no right family makeup. There isn't. What we need to be worried about is that there are children out here that have NO ONE to show them the right way... we should not be concerned that there are people working hard for children and getting verbal high fives on father's day, mother's day, flag day, memorial day or any other day. Get over yourself, if you spent half as much time actually doing something with your kids as you did trying to tell me that single mother's shouldn't get a shout out on Father's Day, we would all be in a better position. Punk.

So on this day, I am once again praising my dad. Even though we have not always agreed & had our moments of bitterness... he has always given me and my siblings 100% of what he had. He was there at track meets, plays, graduations. He helped with homework and checked in with teachers and YES, he was available for lectures that you didn't want to hear, and whoopings that we absolutely deserved. He didn't just say "hey kids, I love you." He showed us every day by being an example, going to work and taking care of our family... and trust me when I tell you, some of y'all need to get like him.

More Precious than Rubies...

I know that it is Mother's Day so everyone is getting ready to go to church, or brunch, or is on every social networking site imaginable, claiming that their mom is the best mom that has ever lived. Well, I'm totally not going to church today. Why? Because I don't want to sit next to you and your mom, plus I hate how super OVERcrowded Mother's Day is. I get that she wants you to go, but really, I don't want to sit behind you while you are trying to flip through the Bible, looking for the scripture that was just announced- brush up on the books before you get there (hello, table of contents!) I may go to brunch, if I can get out of the house and to the restaurant by 6AM. Why so early? Uh, because if I go at normal people time, normal people will be there, that includes you and your misbehaving, bad ass kids and I do NOT want to sit next to y'all! As far as claiming that my mom is the best-- :) She totally is, and if you read this, you'll understand why.

So- I don't write about Momma Hot, Black and Bitter very often. It isn't because she isn't fascinating, worthy or exciting. She is all those things. I don't write about her often because 1. people like Momma HBB should not be reading my blog, 2. as great as my descriptions are, I really don't think I would do her justice and 3. anytime I try to write about her, I always get stuck on what to write about, where to start, etc.

1. People like Momma HBB shouldn't read my blog: Yeah, in case you hadn't noticed... I am a total heathen. For having grown up in a part of the Bible Belt, I have one of the dirtiest mouths this side of the Mississippi. I am always puzzled as to what to say next when someone asks me "do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Um, why yes I do, thank you for asking... (I think I am leaning towards this as an answer: "Yes, I kiss my mother with this mouth... and your dad likes it too") See what I'm saying? Probably should not relay stories of my sainted mother while dropping "f" bombs, calling people morons or complaining about my bastard neighbors. I mean, where would I fit in "I love my mommy"? In a Fed Up Friday entry, or while describing Donald Trump as a douchebag? I think not. The fact is: Momma HBB is too classy a lady to be a regular subject of my writings.

2. My descriptions wouldn't do her justice: You know when you come across something magical, but you JUST can't put that magic into words to be comprehended by the masses? That is how I am when I talk about my mom. I call her my favorite girl- she is. With all the words in the English language, I cannot string together an all encompassing description that would paint the picture of what my mom means to me. I've tried. It is impossible. So, when people ask about her I say three things: we look just alike, she is my favorite girl and I want to grow up and be just like her (minus all the children and the heathen oldest daughter!) Other than that- her magic cannot be accurately described. Oh, I'll try a little further down, but no matter how flowery the words are, they will not be able to put all that Momma HBB gives or possesses into a neat little package for everyone to understand.

3. I don't know where to start: whenever someone is telling me a story and they say "I just don't know where to start" my go to comeback is "start at the beginning" (because I'm a smart ass- duh!) but when it comes to my mom, that is easier said than done. Let's see: the beginning, ok. My mom is a genius- granted, I think I am a brainiac, but mom? She graduated high school at 16. Me? 18. She is beautiful- and I am SO very lucky that we look so much alike, because I know exactly what I will look like when I am her age (thank the Lord!!) She is more compassionate than I'll ever be, definitely more patient, more fabulous with kids, WAY better in the kitchen, more understanding... she is just MORE.

I am not leaving a clear picture of my mom in this entry... I'll try again. Momma Hot, Black and Bitter is a wife, a listener, a disciplinarian, a hard worker, a go-between, skilled in chaotic organization, she knows everyone's birthday and middle name (and in our family- that is ALOT), a sweetheart, a fighter for her family (example- I know I'm a heathen and she might know it too, but I dare you to tell my momma that I am-- she will get you!), the BEST example of what a mom is supposed to be, considerate, care taker, boo boo kisser, a teacher, diaper changer (you read that right-- my youngest brother is still in diapers), comforter, a handy woman, potty trainer, doctor appointment maker and keeper, snuggler, dog wrangler, kid chaser, language master (she can understand the little kids better than anyone I know), human thermometer, the best JoJo, consummate host (eat your heart out Martha Stewart), cuddler, laundry expert, a taxi driver, medicine dispenser, cleaner, advice giver, humble, a cooker (and a feeder), bandage expert, the person you want praying for you, a balancer of crazy. She puts up with crying... from me... over the phone (enough said!) She never gets a day off. She has a smile that will brighten up the darkest room, a voice that sings "You are My Sunshine" better than any other person on the Earth, she loves surprises and decorating for Christmas (mom- the neighbors do NOT know that you compete against them every year with your Christmas decorations...). She appreciates effort, loves clean babies, good report cards, kids fresh from the shower (properly greased!), and me- she loves me! And I love her back. :) She. Is. Perfect... and she is all mine. Well, I do share her with a bunch of kids and dad, but you get the idea. I am so glad that we belong to each other and I hope that one day I can pay her back for all her hard work, by being the most wonderful Hot, Black and Bitter I can be!

Happy Mother's Day to my favorite girl! I love you!!

Why We Fight

I'm a realist... mostly. In the back of my mind I do keep an ever growing utopia, where people are nice, I don't answer to anyone, people don't notice my skin color, nor do they judge me about it, I'm a bajillionaire and I have a husband who adores me- every day- even on the days when I don't make it out of my sweatpants. My utopia rocks, just in case you didn't know! :) But I know that when I open my eyes, that place doesn't really exist. I know that I'm not a bajillionaire (yet), people aren't always nice (until I start yelling) and the husband has not made an appearance... yet (where IS that dude? He is super tardy).

I have a friend that always tells me that the reason he gets out of bed in the morning is to make money. He has friends, family and a life that he likes. He goes to work to make money. Well, to throw in my two cents, I get out of bed and write, write, write for... love. Love of country, city, state, friends, family, myself and most of all... love for my freaking utopia. The only way it is going to become real is if I make it real! :) Here's a song that lets us know that dreams are ok. Love will find a way! ;)



Lyrics

Walk blindly to the light and reach out for his hand
Don't ask any questions and don't try to understand
Open up your mind and then open up your heart
And you will see that you and me aren't very far apart

'Cause I believe that love is the answer
I believe that love will find the way

Violence is spread worldwide and there are families on the street
And we sell drugs to children now oh why can't we just see
That all we do is eliminate our future with the things we do today
Money is our incentive now so that makes it okay

But I believe that love is the answer
I believe that love will find the way
I believe that love is the answer
I believe that love will find the way

I've been seeing Lisa now for a little over a year
She said she's never been so happy but Lisa lives in fear
That one day daddy's gonna find out she's in love
With a nigger from the streets
Oh how he would lose it then but she's still here with me
'Cause she believes that love will see it through
And one day he'll understand
And he'll see me as a person not just a black man

'Cause I believe that love is the answer
I believe that love will find the way
I believe I believe I believe I believe that love is the answer
I believe that love will find the way
Love will find the way
Love will find the way
Love will find the way
Please love find the way
Please love find the way

Wordless Wednesday - From Colored to a Colorless World

Fed Up Friday- Chicago

There have been several things on my mind about the city that I live in, that I really need to express. It is true that I choose to live in Chicago (thank you to one of my friends for reminding me, every time I say something negative about the city-- you know who you are!!). I love it here. I moved two states away from my friends and my family to make a life in Chicago and MOST days it seems totally worth it. There is always something to do; the people are welcoming without being super touchy feely (hot, black and bitter does NOT do touchy feely); the people of Chicago WORK-- hard, and party hard, which I can appreciate; and the people who make up Chicago's population are hard core. We survive Chicago winters every year, Chicago crime, and Chicago politics-- it takes a strong group of people to make it through that year after year. Trust me- I am six years in and it is hard! But with everything there is room for improvement, right? Right!

So here is part one of my Fed Up Friday- Chicago edition. I have severe issues with Cook County and taxes. Yep, I said it. Cook County has been the highest taxed county in the United States for two years (at least), yet it is all over the news that Cook County is broke. My taxes keep going up but the cops have to take furlough days? I have to go to Meijer in a neighboring state or county to really afford groceries and we can't pay police officers or city workers? There is a deficit? Um... What? I pay higher taxes than Los Angeles and New York and we are broke? Something. Does. Not. Compute.
Not only is the WHOLE county broke (and the state is financially ill too) but where I live is exceptionally bad. Damn. The south side is the step child in the city. The el doesn't come all the way down here (stops at 95th street, city limit stops at 136th street), and the services we receive are substandard. That is all kinds of messed up. I am a homeowner that pays the same percentage of taxes as some homeowners on the north side and I suffer because I live south of downtown? Huh? Let me give you an example: the closest major intersection in my neighborhood is 115th and Halsted. Halsted is a major street, and has mostly been cleared off from last weeks blizzard, but 115th (also a major street and an exit on the expressway) hasn't. In a majority of places it is down to one and a half lanes. Which doesn't sound awful, until you are stuck behind a bus. You can't go around, it sucks. Or it is Sunday and you have to wait for people to get into House of Hope's parking lot (which makes me curse at the people headed to church). And it has been a week and a half since the blizzard. What? On the north side companies are towing cars, clearing the snow and putting cars back. Um, I just more than one lane shoveled.
Where the hell are all my tax dollars going? I look around- we have a failing school system, public transportation systems that are always asking for money and raising rates, we're losing business because our businesses are getting tax breaks in other states-- which also means we are losing jobs, the south side gets ignored, we don't have enough cops, crime is skyrocketing (despite what the reports say-- it REALLY depends on where you live) and like Eddie Vedder says: "the haves be having more, yet still bored." And that is just the beginning. What the hell am I paying for? I want to see some return on my investment... there are just over 5 million people living in Cook County, paying some ridiculously high taxes and we are broke? Impossible.
So then the question remains- why do I live here? It has been asked often- especially during times of unemployment (or break ins), and honestly- it is the easiest question to answer. I live in Chicago and take all that it offers (or doesn't) because I love this city. I sincerely think that I am where I am, so I can help the people in my neighborhood. Everyone might not like my tactics-- hey, if your kid is acting like an asshole, I'm going to call him an asshole-- but it all comes from a good, less bitter place. I want to help the south side get the recognition that it deserves (we aren't all ghetto fab). I want my senior citizen neighbors to be able to feel safe in our neighborhood. I want the kids on my block to know that they can accomplish something more than knocking up some girl or standing on my corner all day. If I don't call attention to the problems and lay out a plan, how are they going to get fixed? Chicago is like a close family member-- if you live here, you can talk shit about the city (or inhabitants) because you live here and you experience this craziness. But you only get that privilege if you LIVE here. No outsiders can talk shit about your close family member or the City of Big Shoulders... When you do, you get to experience the Chicago Way... and that, my readers, has nothing to do with taxes! Happy Friday!

Soulful Saturday- EnVogue

The quintessential 90s female group. Perfect harmony; they sang AND danced. Their songs speak of love, loss and ignorance- which make them perfect for Soulful Saturday! They started out as a quartet and by the end of the decade, they were a threesome, but everyone remembers at least one En Vogue song- if never really mattered if the song was sung by three or four women.

I think that their first released single was their most successful. Hold On featured a remake of the Jackson 5 "Who's Loving You" and was featured in MANY bedroom concerts at my house! I convinced myself that I could even hit the high note... ahem! Moving on! LOL With Hold On, En Vogue burst on the scene, spending the rest of the decade dazzling the public with their relevant and beautifully harmonized songs. They also made the Little Black Dress something that was a staple in ladies closets all over the world- mine included.


Hold On


*Don't waste your time, fighting blind minded thoughts of despair.





Lies


*It's just a waste of time, made for simple minds, so why do people exist on lies?
*So think before you speak cuz what you sow, you reap. The truth will always be brought to light.





Don't Go


*It takes a gift man, to release the love in me.
*Your first bite was just too strong, you left a scar on me.





Free Your Mind

**The WHOLE song**



Too Gone, Too Long (aka one of the front runners in the ULTIMATE Break-Up Collection)

*So you want my love back. Why'd you let it slip away? Why'd you ever let me go? Your change of heart has come too late.
*You're too many tears too late, to ever get back in my arms.



Giving Him Something He Can Feel

**The WHOLE song PLUS the video!**

A week of Thankfulness- Music

Today- and at least twice a day, every day- I an thankful for good music!! As seen during times when I have been having a rough time, I often will not write, I'll put up a video. Trust me, the videos that have made it to the blog have represented exactly how I felt at the time it was posted.

I have "f*ck it" days... and I post "f*ck it" music. I have days when I am reflective and that is the type of music that is posted, or that I am listening to. I cannot remember the last day that I didn't listen to music, and whenever it was- it probably wasn't a good day! I have so many memories tied to fantastic music from my youth and I can easily recall times with my family when certain songs play.

I express myself through music and the sappy Moximillion sends her special guy music through email to let him know that I am thinking of him... even if we aren't in the best place all the time. Music brightens my mood, or allows me to be angry, or shouts my thoughts in ways that I can't. I'm not talking about today's ridiculous crap either. I am talking about soul searching, pour your heart into a glass music. Nothing about poppin' bottles or making it rain in a club (yuck), but about love, life, struggles and triumphs. Music makes me go. It lets me breathe. It gets me through. It shouts politics and describes wearing your heart on your sleeve. It colors my world and I LOVE it!

Writing Analysis

Twitter is amazing. You can look into a slice of anyone's life in their frequent updates of 140 characters. One of the ladies that I am following had a link for analysizing your writing. I though- eh, what the hell. Let's see who my writing style mimics. Can't be bad, right? I copied and pasted my LeBron entry and I got this:

I write like
Chuck Palahniuk

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

For those of you who are asking yourself who Chuck Palahniuk is, I googled him for you!! Chuck authored "Fight Club" and his writing style has been said to use a limited vocabulary and short sentences (mimicking the way people speak). Could be worse. :) Also, ol' Chuck seems to answer criticism just like I do. In response to a "scathing review of one of his books" Chuck said "Until you can create something that captivates people, I'd invite you to just shut up. It's easy to attack and destroy an act of creation. It's a lot more difficult to perform one." Who does THAT sound like? Ha! ok, ok, my response would have had a limited vocabulary full of more colorful descriptions of where someone could go, but you get the point.

Chuck didn't start writing until his mid-30s... maybe, just maybe, I am on the right track? I could be the Chuck Palahniuk of the midwest!

Soulful Saturday- Fiona Apple Edition

Instead of picking three different artists for Soulful Saturday, I have decided to dedicated this Saturday's edition to Fiona Apple. Haven't heard much from her in a while, but I owned Tidal and I am not afraid to say that she is AMAZING. Maybe it is because she is full of surly delight, or because we are the same ago, or she has figured out the best way to say "F you" in a song about her ex (and guess who I want to dedicate those songs to?) Either way, I rock out to this on the iPod to this day. By the time we were 18 Fiona had made it big with a lovely, sultry voice. She sounded like no one else in 1996, and there are ton of girls that have followed that have used the Fiona Apple formula- one of which is Amy Winehouse (although I do have friends that disagree with that assessment).

First video- her critically acclaimed Criminal. It is a good song, but surprisingly, I do not think it is her best. The 70s scenery in this video is funny, but I love her voice.

Key Lyrics:

* It's a sad, sad world when a girl will break a boy just because she can

* I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand/ but I keep living this day like the next will never come

Second video Shadow Boxer- like this song better than Criminal... dedicated to... he knows.

Key Lyrics:

* what a cunning way to condescend- once my lover, now my friend.

* darling I just want to say... Just in case I don't pull through. I was on to every play... I just wanted you.

* It is so evil, my love, the way you've no reverence for my concern. So I'll be sure to stay wary of you, love, to save the pain of once my flame and twice my burn.

Third Video- Sleep to Dream. This video kicks ASS!!! The lyrics say exactly what I have wanted to say on several occasions.

Key Lyrics:

* You say love is a hell you cannot bear. I say give me mine back and then go there for all I care.

* This mind, this body and this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant ways. So don't forget what I told you, don't come around- I got my own hell to raise.

* First you run like a fool just to be at my side, now you run like a fool, but you just run to hide and I can't abide.