I remember that time you asked me out on a date and after I’d been waiting for you for 20 minutes, you called and told me you were having car trouble but would be there soon, but after an hour, still never showed up or called to apologize or reached out to me at all until today.
You need what, now? And how many ways can I not help you?
I had several really bad allergic reactions to some fruit I ate this past week — grapes, nectarines. I had some swelling on my face yesterday and last night I broke out in hives. I took some Benadryl and went to sleep. My father was convinced I had shingles. “A lady in my Sunday School class said she just had shingles.”How old was she, Daddy? “68.”
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he jumped right to shingles. I mean, he’s an old dude and shingles is an old dude disease — not that young people can’t get shingles (’cause I Googled it and found out they can)… I’m just saying if they do, it doesn’t typically come and go within the span of an episode of “Love and Hip Hop Atlanta.” What’s important here is that my dad is the biggest hypochondriac I know. Growing up, he was always trying to send me to the doctor for something or other. My mom tells this story about how back when I was toddling, my dad got concerned and said, “I think we need to take her to the pediatrician. Why is she walking like that? All slow and wobbly?” Her response: “Because she just learned how to do it two days ago.” My Pop would have maxed out our insurance benefits every year if my mother hadn’t been there to stop him.
P.S. I know those are the wrong kind of shingles (pictured above), but I like to post pictures with each blog entry, and the other kind of shingles are super gross. You’re welcome.
But I can’t stop howling. A crazy naked man in the San Francisco subway system attacking people while doing some really impressive gymnastics. The bicycle stretches and the roundoffs were especially good. Oh, and the BART worker holding the camera sounds so much like me (as pointed out by my friend Shannon who initially sent me the video) that I actually started to question whether or not I was in San Francisco for this… AND THE COMMENTS ARE JUST AS GOOD AS THE VIDEO:
So happy I caught this video in my Facebook newsfeed this afternoon. My friend Joy posted this video of a friend of hers singing a Whitney Houston tribute/medley and I almost didn’t watch it. Don’t make the mistake I almost made. This lady right here… Ms. Shelea Frazier, is a S-A-N-G-ERRRR!!! This tribute was beautifully done and so respectful… Please watch it and share it. With all the talent-deficient superstar “artists” radio tries to push down our throats, it’s refreshing to hear someone with real, pure talent.
That “…for the Bible” in “Jesus Loves Me” sent chills down my spine. Shelea also had a song on the “Jumping the Broom” soundtrack. Also fantastic!!!
Shelea, if you ever come across this, I wish you the very best in your career. And if you have an album, I want 3. Follow her on Twitter here.
I had an ex boyfriend who was a terrible complainer when he was sick. I remember having this conversation with him once:
ME: Would it make you feel better if I rubbed some Vicks on your chest? HIM: No. But I think I’d feel better if you let me rub some on yours. ME: But I’m not… Oh, wait… Freak.
Moving on… I have bad allergies. And I’m not great about taking my Flonase every day, so I often find myself really congested at nite. Thank goodness for my trusty jar of Vicks VapoRub. A little dab right under the nostrils and I’m breathing easy and drifting off to sleep in no time. I realized last nite though, that I can’t remember ever buying a jar of Vicks. Ever. In my whole life. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure (no BS) that the jar I’m currently using is the same jar my mom sent me off to college with. I posted about it on Twitter just as I was laying down last nite:
Turns out I’m not the only one. One Twitter friend sent me this photo of a Vicks jar that expired in August 2006 that he’s still using:
Here’s another response I got:
I have no idea what the expiration date was on my jar — it’s long since been vapo-rubbed off. But I’m willing to bet cash money that it was in the 20th century… Here’s the thing the folks at Vicks don’t understand: Putting an expiration date on something you don’t have to ingest that still works as advertised is not going to deter people from using it past that date. To paraphrase BFF Jenny, Vicks is like menthol Twinkies. And the jars are so large — who’s ever gotten to the bottom of a jar of Vicks? It’s a product I love and use often and I’ve only needed one of it my entire adult life. Booker T. Washington, I’m nowhere close to the bottom of my jar. I’m not sure how this is a lucrative business model for them. Maybe if they made it the size of ChapStick, or it started smelling like ass after the expiration date… but as it stands now, I don’t understand how they are getting any repeat business. ‘Cause anyone who’s getting to the bottom of a jar of Vicks on a regular basis is clearly on the verge of death and won’t be a customer for very long. I have no problem pointing this out to them because I clearly have enough Vicks on hand right now to will to my non-existent, future grandchildren. So if you work for the Vicks corporation or you know someone who does, feel free to pass this along to them. No charge. That’s what I’m here for.
OK, so I finally caught the movie “Just Wright” from the beginning. And I’m pissed. Not just because the plot kinda stunk and there was no chemistry between the two main characters… but because it’s set in my home state (New Jersey) and in the scene where Common and Queen Latifah meet, they’re at a gas station pumping gas. In New Jersey.
Whoever wrote, directed, fact-checked and.or produced this film gets an “F” for effort. Seriously, the movie is set in one of only two states in the union where it’s illegal to pump your own gas, and the main characters meet while doing just that? As a Jersey girl, Latifah should know better.
Shame on you, Dana.
As I was watching it I went straight to Facebook and Twitter to vent my frustrations:
I was happy that a lot of my fellow New Jerseyans were disturbed by this as well. But I wasn’t satisfied. I know I was a little late to the game (the movie came out almost a year ago), but I needed to know if this inconsistency had been exposed and discussed on the Internet previously. So I Googled “just wright gas station jersey” which brought up a Wiki Page. I then scrolled down to the “Plot Errors” section and found this.
Mmmmm… Sweet validation. Yum.
There’s nothing that can be done about it now. But for all the big movie directors and producers who read this blog: If you decide to base your film in New Jersey and you need an activity around which characters meet and interact, stay away from gas pumping. Dinner at a diner or a White Castle will work just as well.
I was in the dressing room at a Super Target in Illinois yesterday and saw this sign:
Now, I’ve seen this sign in dressing rooms before and I get why they put it there, but I’ve always wondered why they single out swimwear. How ’bout this: How ’bout we keep on our undergarments regardless of what we’re trying on. Because when you add the qualifier, it just invites misinterpretation.
“Oooh, yes! The jeans fit. Now let me put my panties back on so I can try the bikini…”
See what I mean?
They don’t make the sign generic because they assume keeping your underpants on while trying on regular clothing is understood. But I submit that the people who would try on a swimsuit without underwear would try on anything that way. It’s already gross to think that Lord-knows-how-many people may have tried on your clothes before you bought them. Factor in (or should I say out) the potential absence of underwear and folks with questionable hygiene practices and it becomes exponentially mas gross.
I think department stores across the country should get together and update their signs to eliminate all confusion. Maybe it could look something like this:
Yeah. I think that hits the right note. You’re welcome.
Check out my latest Me In Your City video! This one was shot in Indianapolis this past weekend and features crazy bachelorettes, flying penises (or is it peni?), and me getting thrown off a mechanical bull IN SLOW MOTION.