Everyone needs a rainy-day fund. This just happens to be mine…
So I was in Chicago this past weekend for the launch event for a special I taped a few months back, and as we were leaving the club, we ran into Ce Ce Peniston of “Keep on Walking” fame on the street. Doesn’t she look fantastic? I said something very drunk as I asked if she’d take a photo with me — something like “Thank you so much ’cause girl, you coulda kept right on walkin’…” Yes, really. And she still posed for the pic. What a gracious lady! Damn you Makers Mark!
Be sure to keep an eye out for the Stand Up For Family Vol. 4 special airing on Centric this fall! Here’s a sneak peek…
Every girl needs a naughty drawer. And a good girlfriend who knows where it is.
What’s more important: your marriage or your bikini body? When you’re trying to lose weight, you have to set priorities.
Leaving Kentucky yesterday morning, I saw a sign on the highway for the Wild Turkey Distillery. I’ve never been a big fan of their drank, but I’m a huge Bourbon nerd and I’m trying to get my Bourbon Trail Passport all stamped up so I decided to check it out. Booker T, remember this post about the actual wild turkeys I found hanging out down the street from my house?
But I digress.
There was a church called Tyrone Baptist just down the way from the visitor’s center. Tyrone Baptist is precisely the kind of name I’d expect a church next door to the Wild Turkey distillery to have. Continue reading →
I love chicken.
I didn’t always; in fact, you couldn’t pay me to eat chicken before I went away to college. Damn HBCU’s will do it to you every time… Now, chicken is one of my very favorite things. If you put a chicken dish in front of me, even if I’m not that hungry I will pick all the chicken out of it. I can’t stop myself. I have zero willpower when it comes to chicken. And yes, I realize how ignorant-ly this post is trending.
Every now and then, when I order a chicken dish in a restaurant, I let the server take my plate with a little chicken still left on it, just to prove to myself I can let it go. But it’s always painful. Last nite I ordered a chicken caesar at Applebee’s and when it looked like I was done with my salad (’cause I was done with the salad; I just wasn’t done with the chicken), my server, Hannah asked if she could clear my plate. I quickly replied, “NO!” But then I thought, “maybe I should just let her take it. It’s been a while…” I took a photo of it — so I’d never forget it — and then asked her to take it away. It’s almost 24 hours later and I’m still thinking about those three strips of chicken, but I’m glad I did what I did. It’s the proudest I’ve been of myself in quite some time.
Don’t you judge my truth.
I don’t understand people who don’t understand the need for personal space.. And by “I don’t understand people who,” I mean “I hate people who.”