I see you driving ’round town with the girl I love and I’m like…

So I was in the beauty supply store buying a new flat iron when my eyes were assaulted by this:

I couldn’t believe the nice old Asian man who owns this store would sell something like this. I’m tempted to pay someone to go in there and buy it so I can videotape it.

I bet this is what Cee-Lo smells like.

Finding Your Purpose

I was sitting on the floor by my gate in the Philadelphia airport this morning when I saw a sight that surely would have buckled my knees had I been standing. There was a lady wearing one of those super high (higher than the one pictured) orthopedic shoes you wear when one of your legs is shorter than the other on one of her feet. And on the other foot… was a Skechers Shape Up. Now, I’ve always thought they looked like orthopedic shoes, but to see one paired up with an actual shoe lift was just too much.

If the Skechers marketing team was smart, they’d ditch the “they help you become fit and toned doing everyday stuff and hey Joe Montana wears them too” angle and press forward with the “perfect if you’re in an aircast or have a little leg” angle. Whether they realize it or not, it’s what that ugly ass shoe was put on this earth to do.

It’s time for Skechers Shape Ups to step into their destiny.

I really don’t have a lot more to say about that, other than I wish you — and by “you” I mean “every single one of you” — could have been there to see it.

It was pink. Did I mention it was pink?

OK, then. Bye.

Blow me

OK, now that I’ve got your attention I just want to start by acknowledging that the overriding theme of this post is not funny — in fact its very, very sad. But I can’t deny I chuckled a bit when I first heard it.

Alright, leggggo. So my cousin who we will call “J” for the purpose of this blog has developed a really bad drinking problem over the past few years. It’s gotten so bad that his wife had one of those breathalyzer ignition locks installed in his car.

The first few times he went out after she put it on, he went out and got drunk but wasn’t able to start the car to drive home. A shame he does this regularly, but the device did what it was supposed to do, which made the roads safer for everyone. But he recently figured a way around it. He went to his favorite bar and left his car running in the parking lot while he went inside and got wasted. So he wouldn’t have to blow to start it. Yes, really.


I feel like most times when people are in a situation where they contemplate drinking and driving it’s unplanned. They go out, start having a good time and one or two drinks turns into three or four and before you know it, it’s last call and you realize you have no way to get home… But what J did was completely premeditated.


But you gotta admit it was a pretty well-thought out plan. Gas up the car, go to a bar where folks know you and the car will be safe… Who says alcohol ruins brain cells??!? Besides anyone with any medical training… The details on how he was found out are a little murky but someone saw it and tattled — he certainly didn’t tell on himself — so he didn’t end up getting behind the wheel. But the fact still remains that he could have.


I did a little research on these devices because it seems like there are a ton of work-arounds where intoxicated folks could still drive. You could do what my cousin did and not shut your car off, you could have (a very unscrupulous) someone blow to start the car for you. All you can do is hope that most people wouldn’t think to plan ahead like that. And anyone who blew for a drunk person to start their would have to be sober — and therefore knowingly be sending someone off to drive drunk rather than take them to a safe place. At the very least that’s illegal, and in my opinion, anyone who’d do that should be required to ride along in the passenger’s seat.

But another thing I learned is that as you’re driving these ignition locks prompt drivers to blow at various random intervals during the trip. You have to pull over and then blow or the car will lock up — horns may beep, lights may flash, and the motor will shut off if the person is over the legal limit. So you could risk it if you’re going a short distance, but chances are you wouldn’t get far. Plus for those people where the ignition lock was mandated as a result of a DUI the failed breathalyzer information is recorded and downloaded.

I’ve said all this to say that upon first hearing the story, I’ll admit I was amused by my cousin’s craftiness — moreso by that fact that despite it he still got caught. But when I thought more about it I realized what a disaster it might have been. I guess these devices aren’t perfect and they can’t stop people from drinking altogether. But hey if they didn’t exist a lot more people would be driving drunk. So they’re doing some good. Do any of you know anyone with one of these devices? How’s it working for them. Inquiring mind wanna know.

I wanna know.

T.I. isn’t to Paul at all

So I just read the blog/letter/bletter (below) that T.I. wrote from the pen about being sick and tired of going in and out of the pen all his life. I feel really sorry for him for having to suffer through so many horrible, unavoidable jail bids.

Blank stare.

Here is the text of the blog:

This experience is truly a pain I have never felt before and that’s saying a lot for a nigga who’s been down locked up as many times as I have. I see this as a real ass whoopin’. The kind you don’t just go back outside to play afterwards. You take ya ass to bed and don’t come out of your room until it’s time to go to school. I don’ t know what effect this will have on my life moving forward but I’m certainly sick and mother f*cking tired of going to jail, juve, prison, the pen, correctional facilities or whatever else you want to call it. I’d have been better off doing a 5-10 year bid one time than going in time and time again for days, weeks and months for the last 15 years of my life. Even though it’s been a long road, I’m still standing, barely but nevertheless still standing. At one time I thought my motivation for continuing was for my fans, my partna Philant, my pops, my grandmama, even for the haters or the people I let down. But nah… I got to do this shit for me!!! I’ll be God damned if I’ve come all this way and made it through so much hell to let it go down like this! F*ck that! If an hour in the dark is worth a second in the sun then pass me my mother f*ckin’ shades cause I’m ready to cash my darkest hours in…ASAP!!! A lot of folks had fathers or father figures in the house to raise them into manhood. I’m not trying to make any excuses for my situation but my father was a hustler that lived in New York. My uncle was a local big time dope boy turned 10 year federal inmate. My mother and grandparents did the best they could but I found my manhood in the trap and in prison systems. But I found it. And nan one of mine will ever have to feel the cold tight grip of a handcuff or grace the presence of a jail cell if I can help it. Over my dead body! So if you can’t respect that you ain’t rocking with my movement then Fuck you dog! I know a bunch of mother f*ckers who are…..

– Love KING

Yeah, way not to make excuses, Tip. I gotta say I’ve always been a big T.I. fan and after the gun thing and the MTV show where he helped the kids and the jail bid before this one, I really thought he’d gotten the message and was ready to change his life. I’m not going to address the jumper he “talked off the ledge” because, well that ridiculous publicity stunt has nothing to do with the subject of this post — except to illustrate that T.I. really must be sick of jail and desperate to stay out if he set up a stunt like that and actually thought it’d have an impact on his sentencing… Yeah I said it — and if you don’t think he set that up, you need Jesus.

Speaking of Jesus…

After I finished reading his letter, I decided to read thru a few of the comments. I was pleasantly surprised to see that not all of the posters were d**k riders — that a few of them saw his excuses for what they were and called him on it. But then I saw this comment. And it stopped me in my proverbial tracks.

I’m sorry, did SIRX16 compare T.I. to Paul? The Apostle Paul? Paul who wrote like 12 books of the Bible, Paul?


T.I. is to Paul as… as…

As nothing.

T.I. isn’t to Paul at all. Boooooo.


F the Police indeed…

So last nite I had to drive from DC to Orange County, New York to do a show at SUNY Orange. About 10 miles out from the hotel I got an e-mail that I needed to read. So I pulled over to the side of the road like Oprah told me to. I put my hazards on because it was a dark stretch but there were lots of trucks out so I wanted to make sure anyone who might need to pull off the highway could see me sitting there.

As I was reading a car pulled up behind me. Turns out it was a state trooper patrol car. But they never put on their red and blues, and they just started shining the flood light on me so I couldn’t see who/what they were. So being a single woman on a deserted highway and there being nothing to indicate they were police, I shifted the car into drive and get ready to pull off. I didn’t know if it was a trucker coming to kill me or what. But as I start to try to pull away, I hear someone banging on my passenger side door and I floor it. Still can’t see its a cop cuz I’m blinded and they haven’t said anything (don’t they have speakers in those cars?). But then the one in the car moved the flood light and I can now see there’s a cop standing outside my passenger side window with his gun drawn. He yells for me to roll down the window and then yells, “What are you doing? You could have run me over!” And I said, “Well I couldn’t see you because of the light and I’m by myself…” Showed him I was just reading an email while NOT driving — per the law. But the reality is: to him it looked like I was fleeing. To me it felt like I was being attacked… It could have all ended terribly. I know someone who lost their life to a cop in this very same way 10 years ago. Exhale.

When I got to my hotel I called the NY State police to complain. I watch enough TV to know that there had to be a lapse in protocol here. I mean, no lights… no identifying themselves as cops before they approached the car… The officer I spoke with on the phone gave me a lot of party line crap about how the officers are worried about their safety too and how their job is to assists motorists in trouble… Fine. I get all that. But they did nothing that would indicate they were law enforcement officers. She ASSURED me that I just didn’t see their siren lights. And I ASSURED HER BACK that she wasn’t f–ing there and that those lights were the first thing I looked for. Why would I want to unnecessarily be scared out of my mind?

Bottom line is this could all have been avoided if they had on their red and blues… I am beyond thankful it played out the way it did. But I do feel as if I’ve become a member of a new club — the “F” the police club. Like far too many people I know, I now know what if feels like to be looking at the ‘business end’ of a policeman’s gun. I was way too young to identify with this song when this song came out, but now I kinda do:

Pardon the language… but surprisingly there’s no radio edit available for “F*** Tha Police.”

Moving on… In honor of my new member status I was thinking maybe I should bring back my Jheri Curl…

Or at least buy some 40’s and learn how to play dominoes.

Have any of you ever had any really bad/scary encounters with the police? Exhale.


Sometimes when I don’t want to talk to people, I pretend to fall asleep. Not drift asleep gradually — I mean fall instantly asleep. It’s a *condition* I have chosen to refer to as situational narcolepsy.

I’ve never met a narcoleptic. I don’t know much anything about narcolepsy — except that Harriet Tubman suffered from it — but when I fake it, it looks a lot like this chick from Deuce Bigalow:

Most of my SN attacks happen on airplanes — when the person seated next to me has awful breath, or just awful conversation. A few months back I was sitting in between a married couple and when I realized they were together I asked them if they’d rather sit next to each other. “No,” was their response because he preferred the window and she preferred the aisle. Fine. But then they both ordered Bloody Mary’s and proceeded to talk across me to each other with their spicy ass breath, I immediately pulled down my eye mask and zonked out. It took a few minutes but they eventually respected my ‘sleep’ and shut it down.

Praise 8 lb., 6 oz newborn infant Jesus.

My latest bout with SN came yesterday on a flight from Albany GA to Atlanta. I was sitting next to what seemed like a perfectly nice dude. He ordered a Diet Coke. Fantastic. But then there was this:

GUY: So do you live in Atlanta?
ME: No, I’m actually headed home to DC.
GUY: Oh, DC? Wow. I hear they have a crazy AIDS epidemic there.
ME: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

What do you say to that? I mean really? That’s the first thing that comes to your mind when the nation’s capital is mentioned? My friend Makeda said I should have faked a paper cut or a hang nail and made a big deal out of letting the flight attendant know I needed a band-aid. Hahahahaha. I wish I thought that quick! ;)

Anyway, feel free to adopt this phrase and/or disorder. And let me know how it works for you. ;)

I hope you don’t make it to the future / T-shirt Promo — Take 2

The video above is the bit that the t-shirts I sell after my shows are based on. Some people hate them and think they’re mean. But most people think they’re awesome — especially teachers. It AMAZES me how many teachers come up to me to tell me they’re teachers before they purchase one (or more). They always tell me they can’t wait til the weekend to wear it. I always imagine them running into their students and/or their parents at the grocery store.

It makes me happy.

Either way I know there are a lot of folks out there who share my sentiment. Maybe they wouldn’t say it so directly or in public, but I see y’all out there. It’s in the eyes. I know my Dad would/will die when he sees this clip (LANGUAGE!!!) Ha ha. But there’s no other way to tell that second story.

And it’s a story that must be told.

If you’re offended by this, I’m sorry you have no sense of humor. But if you’re not offended and want your own shirt, check out the merchandise page on my site and cop yourself one. It will make you happy too.

I will put my soft shoe up in yo’ …

So I had a show night before last in Lake of the Ozarks, MO. I was about an hour early for the show because I had the showtime wrong so I was hanging out in the back of the showroom and besides the staff there was only one other person there — a lady sitting at the next booth over. I was playing around with my Blackberry when she started talking to me.

LADY: Are you here for the show tonite?

ME: Yes I am.

LADY: Well then get up there on that stage and dance for me. I need to be entertained while I’m waiting.

Ummmmm… WHAT?!?!?

Dance? A little soft shoe, perhaps?!?!?

There was no indication that I was part of the show. And there was no hint of a smile or a joke on her face. She didn’t blink. She was dead serious. And I was livid. I gave her the big eyes and said, “Oh there will be no dancing” and then continued doing what I was doing. But after a minute or two I was so heated I had to get up and move myself over to the bar. I really wanted to hit her — not like in an imaginary dream sequence, but in living color. I was trying to figure out if there was another way I could take that, without jumping right to the fact that it was the most racist thing I’ve heard in years. But I couldn’t come up with anything.

I  was sooooo angry and I wanted to address it on stage, but since no one else had witnessed it, I knew I was just gonna ruin the show for the headliner and the other 99% of the audience. The show ended up going really well for me but I still kinda felt like a punk for not getting at her. On my way back to the hotel I called my Dad, and he basically just told me to take my money and let it go. He’s had to deal with tons of racist comments being one of just a handful of black folks that worked at his company for 30+ years. And I know he was right. My job is to give a good show and get invited back. Releasing that venom definitely would have made me feel better, but it probably would have ensured that I’d never play the venue again.

I’m a bit of a hot head, and learning to pick my battles is a difficult thing for me, but when things like this happen I guess they’re just an opportunity for growth.