Tuesday, December 31, 2013

I Think About Killing The Bitch


I am a woman scorned. 

I know that now. I sit around sometimes and I think about killing the ex that still has a hold on me after 7 years. I'm not joking. I daydream about picking up a gun and killing the bitch. 

I know it's not normal. And no, I don't think I'm crazy. I think I'm scorned and hurt.

I want that heifer to feel the pain I've felt for the last seven years. I want her to hurt.

The situation that happened with her did something to me that cannot be undone. It changed my personality. It changed my outlook on life, humanity and the world. 

I used to smile and laugh all the time prior to her. While I wasn't carefree, I did see the world through rose-colored glasses. That all changed after her. 

I became angry. I became resentful. I lost trust in people. I lost faith in the world. In short, I became cold. 

I have a heart of steel now. I'm curt and rude with people sometimes. I have a hard time expressing empathy (at least in front of people). My contempt for people is obvious because I don't care to hide it anymore. All this shit goes back to what happened with her. 

I imagine victims of crime must feel this way as well. I feel violated, hoodwinked, bamboozled and most of all I feel vulnerable.  

I don't know what to do. 

Today I broke down crying. I called my mother, who told me I need to "pray and ask God to remove the hate from my heart." 

I don't want to hear that shit. 

In the 7 years I've been hurting God hasn't done a damn thing to ease my pain. I'm fucking sick of black people bringing God into our problems. Praying is not getting the job done. I don't knock anyone's religion, but black people in this country have been praying for the last 400 years and things are stilled fucked up for us. 

If my daughter told me she sits around thinking about killing a chick I wouldn't tell her to pray about it. She'll have plenty of time to pray when she finds her ass in prison or on deathrow! 

It is clear as day that I need professional help and some prescribed drugs wouldn't hurt!

I'm convinced if I don't get help I will end up killing her or myself.

Saturday, December 28, 2013

The Creative Juices Are Flowing


Now that I have my own spot to post premium content I've decided to revisit an idea I wrote about a little less than two years ago. On that particular post I described a desire to create the content I want to watch and read. I described a desire to create a soap opera featuring smart, non-stereotypical, well-rounded, career driven black lesbians, who more closely resemble my reality. Now that I have a website to post content that requires a subscription I want to move forward with this idea.

I am a huge soap opera fan. I've been watching soaps since I was five years old and I've never stopped. My grandmother introduced me to soap operas. I've been hooked ever since. Even as a college student I used to schedule my classes around my soaps. Though the genre is a shadow of its former self, I am still a loyal fan (albeit...not always a happy fan). 

I still remember when The Young & The Restless used to have this opening...


God, I miss those^^^ days!

Anyway, I want to create my own soap opera. 

Soap operas are basically stories. In fact, many of the people I know who watch soap operas still refer them as "stories." Soap operas started on radio. When television became popular soaps moved to that form of media. Soap operas, or stories, can be told in just about any form of media. I have decided to write my stories and deliver them via the written word. 

Here is the plan....

I plan to introduce my characters using the first person narrative. The characters will give you, the reader, their biography in their own words/voice. This introduction will be delivered to anyone interested in reading. I plan to post it on Amazon Kindle. It will be FREE.

Each week (sometimes it might be every two weeks) I plan to post a chapter on my premium content blog, Bowtie Lez. Chapters will be written in the third person. I only plan to use the first person narrative to introduce the characters. Otherwise, my stories will be told in the third person. Why? Because I don't like writing in the first person (especially if I have several characters, as will be the case). I prefer the third person. 

I think I will call my soap opera Delusions of Love. This might change.  

The setting will be Atlanta. 

Right now I only have two characters in my head. They are sisters (in fact they are identical twins). They are rich having inherited their father's black haircare and cosmetics company. They are both lesbians. They are also like oil and water. I've already decided these sisters will be the black female version of Kane and Abel.

That is the extent of development so far. 

Let me know what you think. Drop me an email or comment below. Your feedback is needed.

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

My New Blog: Bowtie Lez!!!


I'm treating myself with a Christmas gift. I have created a new blog titled, Bowtie Lez

Bowtie Lez is place where I plan to let my intelligence flow. It will feature commentary about social issues, politics, pop culture, sports, entertainment etc. It will also feature commentary about my favorite subjects such as black history, genealogy and anything related to literature (this is the librarian in me speaking). 

The idea behind Bowtie Lez is simple...

I want to read/write commentary about the world from a black lesbian's perspective. I have searched all over the internet. The type of commentary/knowledge I desire to read is NOT represented. I am looking for an intelligent and analytical perspective on world events, black history, politics and entertainment from someone like me (i.e., black, lesbian, a woman). I could NOT find what I am looking for...so I decided to create it myself.

For those of you who know me, you should know I used to be a librarian. I have a thirst for knowledge. Some of that knowledge has made its way onto this blog, but I am so much deeper than the things you have read on this blog. I probably read through 2-3 books a week. I'm constantly educating myself on a variety of subjects. I have a lot of interest. I am living proof that well-rounded black lesbians do exist. I want to read and write about the things that interest me.

Bowtie Lez is ground-breaking. It is the first of its kind. I'm not just saying that because I created it.

Bowtie Lez is the first BLACK OWNED blog site that I know of that charges for subscriptions.

Yes, you read that right.

I have taken my idea of creating a subscription based newsletter and applied it to Bowtie Lez. Rather than creating a newsletter I have created a blog that requires a monthly subscription fee in order to read the content and comments on the blog.

Bowtie Lez uses a feature called Tinypass which serves as a paywall for the site. In order to access content readers must sign up for a $1.99 monthly subscription. It took me a whole week to create the blog and incorporate the Tinypass. I did it all on my own (fuck a web designer...I can do anything I put my mind to...as you can see).

To my knowledge I am the ONLY black blogger who has incorporated a paywall into my content. In that regard, I guess I am a pioneer. Several prominent white bloggers jumped on this ship a long time ago. Bowtie Lez (to my knowledge) is the FIRST black owned blog site that requires a monthly subscription to access content.

Some of you, who are new to my blog, might be wondering "Who the hell is going to pay $1.99 a month to read a blog? And why does she think this is a good idea." 

Sit back and get to know me!

I've stated over and over again on this blog that I want to be a publisher of some type. I love to write. I love the written word. I love to read. I desire to make a living as a writer and publisher. This is the avenue I have decided to take.

It's not simply about the money. This is what I love. This is what makes me happy. Why shouldn't I try to make a living doing what I love? Why shouldn't I create a business for myself when a good opportunity is available? People do it everyday. They are called entrepreneurs.

Plus, I think I have the magic touch. I think my voice is unique. I think I'm a good writer. I think I have a great personality. I truly believe people WILL pay to read my commentary. I think they will tell their friends about it. I think I will be successful. Why? Because I plan to do what it takes to be successful!

This venture is just the start of many more to come. Consider it a test pilot for other ventures. Bowtie Lez will allow me to experiment with subscriptions and content management. It will give me an idea of what it takes to maintain a digital platform that requires a subscription. This is just the beginning for me.

My target audience is black lesbians (and lesbians of color), though anyone can read my material. My goal is to build a media empire that caters to this demographic. In 2014, I plan to be a successful entrepreneur and businesswoman because one thing I have learned is the best way to keep the white man off your neck is to make sure he has no control over your wallet. Constant self-improvement and entrepreneurship my main goals. Bowtie Lez is the product of that thinking.

I plan to blog on Bowtie Lez at least 3-4 times a week. It will get more play than Diary of A Black Lesbian, which will only feature commentary about my life from this day forward. The fact is my life isn't very exciting these days. So, I don't have much to blog about. I won't have that problem with Bowtie Lez

If you are interested in purchasing a subscription to Bowtie Lez please read this LINK.

Like Bowtie Lez on Facebook.

Follow Bowtie Lez on Twitter.

If you have any questions or concerns, drop me a line.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Chocolate & The Mistletoe


Yesterday I kissed Chocolate.

It happened under the mistletoe in her apartment. 

It was soft and passionate. I pulled her close to me. She didn't back away. Instead, she returned my embrace.

When it was over I looked at her and asked, "What does this mean?"

Chocolate: "I don't know." 

With my arms still around her, I rested my forehead against hers. I stared into her eyes and I thought to myself, hopefully it means something.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Hot Boiling Rage


I fucking hate white people. I hate everything about them. And I don't give a damn if my words are offensive to anyone reading this post. When it comes to white people, I wish the motherfuckers would cease to exist.

In the twenty-eight years I've been on this earth I've seen and experienced enough shit from white people to know there will never be a day when I can look at them as a race and want to sing kumbaya

I don't want jackshit to do with them. 

I don't want to work around them. I don't want to live around them. I don't want to socialize with them. I don't want to spend my money with them. I don't want a gawdamn thing to do with them. 

This deep hot boiling rage inside of me has been threatening to boil over for years. Today was the breaking point. 

White people....particularly White non-Hispanic Americans...can kiss both sides of my BLACK ass. And if you're black and find yourself offended by this post, you can kiss my ass too! Fuck you!

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Justice Is Served!!!


Thursday I received an unexpected phone call from the owner of the body shop I'm currently suing. Apparently, he got served the papers and wanted to settle (no doubt encouraged by a lawyer). The owner is a white man from Columbus, Georgia. He is a redneck if I ever saw one. It's surprising he would hire two black men to run his business. That was a shocker to me.

The owner of the shop heard my complaints about the service I received on my truck. I also told him about the customer service and one of the managers telling me to "Fuck me and my ashtray" after I informed him my shit was stolen from my truck while it was in their care. 

The owner apologized and told me he would handle it. He asked me meet him at the shop on Friday. I agreed. 

I showed up at the body shop with my uncle. The owner of the shop called the two shop managers into his office. They immediately did a doubletake when they saw me and my uncle sitting in the office with the owner. He asked the manager who called me and told me "Fuck you and my ashtray" whether he said it. I gave him a cold stare...daring him to lie. 

He said he did.

The owner terminated his ass right there in front of me. He didn't just terminate his ass. He TKO'd his ass! He told him to pack his stuff and get the hell off his property! (His exact words). If this were a beat down it would look something like this...


The manager stormed out of the office...mumbling something under his breath. 

The owner then turned his attention to the other manager, who was responsible for the work on my truck. I'm convinced he is the individual who stole my ashtray out of my truck. Prior to the managers joining us in the owner's office I showed him my receipts, which clearly show I paid for some work that was not done. 

The owner asked the manager responsible for the work why it was not completed. The manager put the blame on another employee who works in the back. The owner then asked him why did he tell us the work was complete. The manager said something to the effect that he didn't have all the facts, which is complete bullshit. 

The owner terminated his ass too! 

That crooked bastard stood there looking like a deer caught in the headlights. A smile spread across my face upon seeing his reaction. For the first time in my life I found myself rooting for a white man, who clearly had it in his head that he was getting rid of these two niggas. I can't say I blame him. They are fucking up his money and the reputation of his business. Who in their right mind wants some thieving crooked bastards with piss poor ethics and customer service skills running their business? 

After the second manager stormed out of the office, the owner apologized to me again. He gave me my money back with an additional $150.00 for my stolen ashtray. I thanked him and I agreed to drop the lawsuit. 

I don't feel the least bit bad for the two assholes. They got what they deserved. They fucked with the wrong somebody. Justice is served...and I feel good about it.

Lesson learned: A black run automobile business will NEVER again see a dollar of my money.

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Hispanic Women!

Selena...R.I.P  :-(

I love Hispanic women. I think they are some of the most beautiful women in the world. For much of my life I've pretty much regarded certain groups of Hispanic women (particularly Mexicans and Puerto Ricans) as black women with lighter (and sometimes darker) skin. Their African ancestry is quite obvious sometimes. They tend to have tan skin, full lips, and voluptuous bodies....just like black women.

I grew up crushing on Selena (may she rest in peace). Selena was built like a black woman. Her features, curves and rear end reminded me of a black woman...


 There are others just like her.

I would really love to date a Hispanic woman. However, the Hispanic women in Georgia (much like their black counterparts) leave much to be desired. They don't look anything like Selena. I would say 99% of the Hispanic women I run across here in Georgia are obese as hell. They look like fair skinned versions of Gabrielle Sidibe. The shit is depressing!

I've only met ONE Hispanic woman in Georgia who I thought was attractive. She used to work at Chipotle up the street from my ex-girlfriend's apartment. She was a small, friendly, pretty woman. I remember her well because she used to greet my girlfriend quite warmly when we would visit Chipotle. 

Maybe I should visit Texas, or one of the other Mexico border states, because I want to be around some attractive Hispanic chicks. They are NOT here in Georgia. 

At the moment I'm crushing on this beautiful Hispanic woman...

I'm in love!

who plays Sabrina on the soap opera General Hospital

Sigh...It's good to dream.

Monday, December 2, 2013

Still Heartbroken After Damn Near Seven Years...


No matter what happens I can't escape thoughts of her. I've tried moving on to other women. I've tried moving on with my life. However, no matter what I do, everything always comes back to her.

I don't think I will ever love another woman as hard as I loved her. It is far too painful to do so. I wish I'd never met her. Maybe then I wouldn't feel this constant stabbing pain whenever I close my eyes and think of her. 

There is a hole in my heart and I don't think it will ever be filled. It's been there ever since she and I broke up and she cut me out of her life. 

There are times when I find myself weeping just thinking about her. There was a time when I thought about killing myself not long after she walked out of my life. There are times when I wish the burning, constant pain, that's been with me for the last seven years, would go away.

Though various events have happened in my life that have led to depression, if I were honest with myself, I would admit my depression always been about her. It always leads back to what happened between me and her. It always leads back to my feelings for her. 

If it's possible to be driven to madness by a woman I'm there....living in mental hell.

I've been crying all day. I don't see it slowing down or stopping anytime soon.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Love...Again


I'm ready for love again...

Things are completely over with Yellow Bone. I've cut her completely out of my life. Now I'm ready to move on to someone else. That's easier said than done. I've always had an issue finding a woman that meets my requirements. 

Quite a few of you have written me expressing your feelings for me, and while I'm flattered by the attention, I honestly don't believe I could ever seriously consider dating someone I met from the internet/this blog. I just don't have it in me to pursue a relationship with someone from the internet. 

I pretty sure the woman I end up marrying/dating will be someone I meet face-to-face. Chances are it will just happen. I just have to be patient.

Saturday, November 30, 2013

My Daddy...SMH!!!


My daddy is living the past...

When I went home for Thanksgiving I stayed with my daddy. On Thanksgiving day he woke up wearing a shower cap.

Me (confused): Dad you sleep in a shower cap?

Dad: Yep. 

I didn't give it too much thought until I arrived at my mother's house and sat down to eat with my mom and my brother. 

Me: Dad is sleeping in a shower cap and he looks like he has a perm or something. 

My brother: Dad is trying to get his Jheri curl back!

Me: What?!?

My brother: He told me the Jheri curl is coming back. 

I look at my mom and we both burst into laughter.

My daddy is a fool! In what world is the damn Jheri curl coming back?!? The last time I saw my daddy he had a blown out Afro. Now he walking around wearing shower caps and shit looking like the black dudes from the group Ready For The World...


My daddy is a dark-skinned black man. In the 1980's, which is the decade I think he is stick in, he had a long juicy jheri curl with a curl in the front like El Debarge up above. He cared about that damn Jheri curl. I don't think you will find another black man who spent so much time in the mirror caring about his Jheri curl. On top of that, my daddy had two gold teeth in the front of his mouth and they both had a star engraved in them. 

I remember he used to walk around with a shinny double breasted suit like the man in this video...


That suit was so shinny it could blind the hell out of you in the sun. 

Nowadays my daddy walks around in full leather outfits! No, I'm not joking. He walks around wearing leather from head to toe. I'm talking about leather shirts, leather pants and leather cowboy boots (with gold trims)....he rocks it all! He stay looking like Eddie Murphy from those old school comedy videos when he used to rock an all leather outfit with some tight ass leather pants that make my crotch hurt just looking at them...

His dick and balls probably screaming, "Damn let us breath!"

My daddy seems to be completely oblivious of how ridiculous he looks. He doesn't care that it doesn't get cold enough in south Georgia for an all leather outfit. He rocks the shit anyway.

I keep quiet about it because I figure he should be able to do him in peace, but damn if I don't wish my fifty-something year old daddy would dress something like this...

Thief Proofing Blackjack (My Truck)

Old dirty bastard!

Yesterday I returned home from my hometown where I spent Thanksgiving with my family (I'll write about that sometime this week). While there, some of my men folk adjusted my front bumper to the point where I'm satisfied...not happy, but satisfied. Tuesday I'm taking it to the dealership down the street from my apartment to get them to correct the issue.

While not noticeable right away, the right side of the bumper clearly sticks out more than the left side.


I ordered a brand new ashtray for the truck which I'm planning to install today. In addition to this, I plan to remove the BLUE turn signal lights my uncle installed. I don't know what the hell would possess him to install some POLICE BLUE turn signals on my truck, but they have to go! The lights look very nice. However, I'm 90% sure the lights are illegal and I don't want any tickets...

The light at the very bottom is the one my uncle made Police Blue.
Today I plan to spend my day making Blackjack thief proof.

Yesterday my dad and my brother added some rim locks to the truck...


You can't see the locks clearly in the picture, but they are small locks that replace the lug nuts in the rim. The locks can only be removed with the key that came with them, which I carry on me at all times (in case I get a flat).

Today I'm planning to add the following to the truck...

  1. A GPS tracking device: Once the thief realizes the rims cannot be removed he is going to try to steal the whole truck. First, he will have to get through the car alarm, which is loud as hell. The alarm is supposed to prevent the truck from cranking. Next, he will need to get through the steering column lock, which I'm installing today as well. He won't be able to hotwire the truck with the unbreakable steering column lock I purchased for $275.00. Next, he will probably notice the break pedal doesn't move because it's locked down as well. If by chance he is able to make it through all of this security, the GPS tracking device is supposed to stop him. The device comes with a "Kill Button." If the truck starts moving I receive a text message to my phone. At that point I have the ability to press a button and kill the gas supply and battery supply to the truck. I can then use the GPS tracking to locate my truck.
  2. Steering column lock: It is premenantly on the truck at all times. Prevents thief from removing the steering column and hotwiring the truck.
  3. Brake pedal lock: Prevents he brake pedal from moving, which you need to move the truck from Park to Drive. 
  4. Tire Claw: Supposed to prevent the truck from moving period. 
Now it's a damn shame I have to go through all this to protect my personal property. I don't live anywhere near the ghetto, but you can never be too cautious. If niggas will steal an astray they most definitely will steal the whole truck. I see the way black men eye my truck...ain't nobody about to take what's mine. As soon as I hear the alarm go off on the truck the first thing I'm reaching for is my pistol. 

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

I'm Calm Now...


I just want to say I'm calm now. 

I'm getting ready to hit this Atlanta traffic south bound for my hometown to spend Thanksgiving with my fam. 

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

-Lezintellect

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

So Pissed Off Right Now!!!


I am really really really pissed off right about now. Let me explain...

Today I went to pick up Blackjack (my truck) from the body shop. My uncle had an issue putting the front bumper on the truck because whoever owned the truck before me was in a fender bender. I also had the truck's doors adjusted and the hinges on the truck's tailgate replaced. 

It has been pouring down rain ALL DAY. Because it's Tuesday, and everyone I know works a full-time job, I couldn't find anyone to drive me to the body shop. So, I drove myself and called Allstate (I'm in their motor club) to have the truck towed back to my apartment.

The co-manager of the body shop called me Monday and told me my truck would be ready at 10:30 AM. This was after they told me Thursday of the previous week that they would need more time to work on the truck because the tailgate hinges had not arrived. Even though I was pissed off, I said ok after he informed me the doors AND the front bumper were done and on-point. 

So, I arrive at the body shop bright and early at 10AM today. Prior to arriving, I called Allstate and told them to send the tow truck to the shop. When I arrived at the body shop one of the manager's said, "Oh it's not ready yet. It should be ready at lunch, 12 O'clock." This annoyed me, but it didn't upset me. I called Allstate and asked if the guy could come later. They agreed. 

Twelve O'clock arrives and the tow truck is right on time. The manager says, "I'm going to go see if they got you ready." He leaves and goes to the garage of the shop. At that point, I walk around to the garage myself. There I see three niggas struggling to get my front bumper on the truck. 

Me: (Angry as hell) What the fuck?

One of the men: We forgot to put the bottom screws in your bumper. 

I'm steaming. Not because of what they are doing, but because my front bumper was as crooked as a gawdamn question mark. It looked almost like it did when we brought the motherfucker in the shop. Standing there, staring at the bumper, it became clear to me that they were in fact RUSHING to put the bumper on and it wasn't done prior to me showing up to pick up the truck. 

I start going the fuck off!

I mean I was cursing that gawdamn manager the fuck out. 

Me (shouting): I'm going to sue the hell out of this motherfucking business! You've had my gawdamnn truck for two weeks...two gawdamn weeks and you got niggas just NOW screwing this crooked shit on. This shit is NOT going to fly. 

Him: Ms. (insert my surname), I understand your concern and we can sit down and talk about this like two adults.

Me: Fuck that! I've been talking to your ass for the last two weeks. I just sat there in your fucking office talking to you for TWO HOURS! I'm done talking! My shit is not fixed. Does this look fixed to you?

At that point I point to the front bumper. 

He doesn't say a word. 

Me: I want my damn money back for this front bumper. 

Him: I'm not giving you your money back.

Me: (completely outraged). Like hell you not. I will burn this motherfucker down. You gone give me my money back!

At that point, the tow driver comes around the corner to see what's up. He notices the twenty-two inch rims and says I need a flatbed tow truck. I turn to him and tell him to tow the car I drove to the shop. He agrees. I turn my attention back to the manger who says, "You can leave the truck with us and pay us again...."

Me: Fuck that! I'm not leaving shit with you and I'm damn sure not paying you another damn dime! 

Him: Well bring it back and talk me and the other manager on Monday. 

Me: Fine! I'll come back. 

So, I get in the truck pissed off.  

I immediately jump on the phone and call my uncle, who took it to that shop. I tell him what has happened and he gets pissed off too. Right in the middle of speaking with him, I notice the truck has become sluggish. I look at the dash and realize the damn truck is out of gas! So, I'm forced to pull over and call Allstate again...this time to bring me some gas!

Forty-five minutes later Allstate, my uncle, and the tow truck guy (who dropped my car off at my place and came to pick up the 22 dollars I forgot to give him for the extra miles) all arrive within minutes of each other to join me on the side of the road. They all agree I have a sweet ride with a crooked bumper! 

The Allstate guy pours 2 gallons of gas in my truck and takes off. I give the tow truck guy the 22 dollars and I take down his name and number because in my mind I might need him as a witness (he saw the dudes at the body shop putting screws in my front bumper). My uncle and I go to a nearby Exxon mobile to fill up my gas tank. 

I complain to my uncle that the radio he installed is not picking up the radio. He climbs in and removes the stereo to replace the annetenna in the back of the radio. That's when he says, "Your astray is missing." I look down and notice a hole...a very big and noticeable hole under the radio. I didn't notice it right away because I was pissed off about the front bumper and the gas situation. 

One the niggas at body shop jacked the ashtray out of my whip!

Some of you might be thinking....why would they steal an ashtray? 

This is NOT a normal size ashtray. This was a huge ashtray that literally takes up half of the lower dashboard. It pulls down to open. The right end of it also connects to the glove compartment. Without it, the glove compartment hangs loose. I've been in that glove compartment at least three times. It was not loose before. In order to get the ashtray out you have to remove the bolts around it! The only folks who would have time to remove that ashtray without being noticed are the niggas in that shop. 

I'm 100% sure it was there when we took the truck to the body shop because I remember looking at it when I was checking the paint job my uncle did on the interior. My uncle remembers the ashtray because he had to paint it. That motherfucker was there when we dropped off the truck! 

My guess is that some nigga working at the shop jacked it to replace his own lost ashtray. 

Anyway, I'm more pissed off than ever before. I called the shop and demand to know who the fuck owns the shop. The manager refuses to give me the name. I tell him about my missing ashtray. He swears they don't have it and his tone is clearly one with an attitude. I hang the phone up. This nigga called me back 20 seconds later and said and I quote, "Fuck you and your ashtray." 

I put his ass on speaker phone so my uncle can hear him. After he hangs up, I called him back. 

Me: I'll see you in twenty minutes motherfucker! 

My uncle and I...both equally pissed off...take off for the shop. 

On my way to the shop, I phone the police. At this point, I already have it in my mind I'm going to file a lawsuit against this business. The "fuck you" comment from the manager is the icing on the cake for me. 

My uncle and I arrive at the shop and the manager immediately looks like a deer caught in the headlights. I'm assuming this is because he thought I was showing up by myself. First thing I say upon walking through the door, "Fuck me and my ashtray huh? No, nigga fuck and this business. Best believe I'm going take my time fucking the hell out of you in court." 

My uncle steps in and tells me to calm down. At that point, he walks out with the manager to look at the bumper. The other manager, who I was told was home sick (thus why he told me I could leave the truck and they would look at it next week....these niggas just keep lying), suddenly popped up and walked out to look at the bumper as well. This nigga begins telling my uncle that the bumper needs another part to be corrected. Mind you, in the two weeks they had my truck this information was NEVER passed to me. I was told on two different occasions that my front bumper was FIXED.

Fulton County police shows up. I take one look at the fat ass black guy that climbs out the police car and roll my eyes. This man looks as if he's having a bad day as well. It becomes clear that he actually knows the two managers of the shop on a first name basis. He tells me point blank this is a civil matter and I will have to sue them.

Me: Oh no officer, I called you because some property from my vehicle was taken. Now unless I woke up in a third world country I do have a legal right to file a police report about my stolen property. 

I give him a look I hope reads, don't test me. 

The police officer's face becomes a noticeable scrowl. It's almost as if he HATES to take my information to complete the police report. Fulton County police department and APD ain't shit. I HATE dealing with them. 

So, the officer gives me a case number. At that point I leave the body shop. I've been pissed off and angry all damn day. 

I do NOT like doing business with black men. I tell you no lie, every single time I have ever taken my car to a black run car shop for any type of repair shit has turned out FUCKED UP! 

In my experience, black men who own/run auto body shops lack professionalism. They try to cut corners and screw you. Evey time I have taken my car to a shop owned by a black man it's been a situation where I have had to turn around and take my car to a white owned dealership to get the shit done right. I've had to spend MORE money dealing with black men and their mistakes/errors/failures than I have at high priced white owned dealerships!

I guarantee you had my uncle taken my truck to a white owned business I wouldn't be pissed off and writing this blog right now.

In my twenty-eight years on this earth, and living in the rural south, I have NEVER had a white manager of any business call me and say "FUCK YOU..." 

These niggas have fucked with the wrong one. I'm filing suit in small claims court TOMORROW! They gon pay what they fucking owe!

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Not So Fast Ms. Harlem School Teacher...Come Chat With Me


Today I received a very interesting reply to my introduce yourself survey. A woman responded to the survey and described herself as follows....
Hey! I'm 30, a high school art teacher (of 10 yrs, working on transitioning into self-employment), from NYC (harlem).
Well, I'm fascinated. Whoever you are, please email me to chat. My email is lezintellect@gmail.com.

Friday, November 22, 2013

The Woman I Want To Meet...


Do you see the pretty black doctor in the picture? I don't know who the hell she is, but I want her! I've always wanted her. She is only thing I want more than a writing career. However, for whatever reason I cannot find her. 

I am looking for a black lesbian who is equal to the woman above (i.e., pretty, educated, classy, on-point etc). Sometimes I question whether or not women like this even exist. I have met one black lesbian lawyer in my lifetime No doctors. No bankers. No high level executives. Instead, most of the black lesbians I run across don't even have a bachelors degree...let alone a professional degree.

And it doesn't even have be a situation where we are dating. I just want to befriend women like her. Where are they?

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

My Hair

I Dig It!

I'm going to try something new with my hair. I am going to get it cut like the woman above. However, I want a little bit more "shade" around my head. So, it won't be shaved as much as the woman above. It will be similar to this...


I want my tape on the side to look like this...

This woman is FRESH with the Cazal glasses

If you look at her tape it curves into a pointed C. I like that! 

I swear you won't meet a sharper lesbian than me. I'm heading to the barbershop on Tuesday. When I go home for Thanksgiving I'm going to be fresh as hell....with my perfect pointless tricked out truck to match (pics coming this weekend).

Fuck Nelly!!!



I just want to say good job to my Spelman sisters. 

Nelly can go somewhere and sit down. This man has some nerve. He disrespects/degrades black women in his video only to turn around and ask the premier college for black women to help in his quest to save his sister's life. Where the hell they do that at???

Somebody needs to tell Nelly he is dealing with educated sisters...not the chicks star struck by his ebonic plagued nonsense.

I don't understand black men. They are the most fucked up, ass backwards, regressive group on the face of the planet. Yes, I'm know I'm generalizing, but if you read the various comments on blogs about this situation you will see that black men as a collective agree with Nelly. I'm trying to figure out why these men feel they are...
  1. Entitled to black women's bodies and resources.
  2. Can degrade and disrespect black women only to turn around and ask for help from black women?
  3. Lie about a situation (Nelly lied and was dishonest about the situation) and think it's okay to say he would have kicked somebody's ass (i.e., promote violence against women who refuse to bend to your needs and desires). 
One good thing has come from all of this: Nelly doesn't have a career anymore. 

Sunday, November 17, 2013

I'm Motivated To Do The Damn Thing!


I'm moving forward with the newsletter. In 2014, I'm launching my new venture...

I've been doing some research. The more I research the idea, the more I like it. I've been looking into features and designs. I know I'm going to use mailchimp to deliver the newsletter. I like the flexibility of the templates that mailchimp offers. Take a look at some of these awesome newsletters created using mailchimp (link).

Like all good things, this is going to require both a financial and an emotional investment on my part. However, I'm dedicated to making my newsletter the best damn newsletter you've ever read. I've already decided my niche will be BLACK lesbians. I'm still playing around with names, but so far Milk & Honey has stuck in my mind.

I already have the very first feature article written in my head...

There is a woman, who I love dearly (I have only mentioned her once or twice on this blog). She was the victim of a violent rape. I want to describe the emotions I felt as she told me piece by piece what happened to her and how powerless and angry it made me feel. Rape doesn't just effect the individual who is raped. It can effect their partner/love interest/spouse as well. The title of that article will be...A Woman I Love Was Raped.

I don't share everything on this blog. Some things in my life are so troubling and personal that I don't feel quite right talking about them. For the sake of my newsletter and my own piece of mind, I've decided to be more forthcoming. I want my newsletter to be deeply personal, moving and inspiring. I want it to be a combination of Lifetime, Comedy Central, and PBS for black lesbians. I want it to be the Essence Magazine for black lesbians.

There will be thought-provoking first person accounts. There will be stories of love and loss. There will be stories of happiness and laughter. There will be educational facts about black history (this is the librarian in me...I love research. So, I have to throw this in the mix). And here is the best part....I can maintain it completely on my own!

Even though I can (and probably will...for the most part) maintain it on my own, some of you have emailed me expressing interest in writing for my newsletter. I'm opened to the idea. However, anyone that writes for me will need to understand that this is a START UP venture, which means you probably won't get paid until this thing actually starts turning a profit. I don't suspect it will turn a profit for at least a year. It will take time to build an audience and a reputation. Good things don't typically happen overnight, and judging from the results of my poll asking about this venture, it will be an uphill battle to PAID subscribers. So, if you're interested in writing for me you're more than welcomed. Just know that I can't pay you up front or right away.

I am looking for people who don't find sharing deeply personal stories. It doesn't matter if these stories are tragic or comedic. I'm opened to all sorts. I'm looking for people who don't find contributing on a regular basis (maybe once or twice a month). If you're interested in the job email me, lezintellect@gmail.com.

I'm also looking for someone to run what I'm calling my black lesbian "Dear Abby" section. This individual will be responsible for giving advice to black lesbians about love, life, family etc. Ideally, this individual should be mentally sound with some type of background in psychology or family therapy. It would also be nice if you are in a stable committed lesbian relationship yourself. If you're interested in the job email me lezintellect@gmail.com.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Hmm Maybe She's Onto Something...


I had a very interesting conversation with Chocolate today. I told her about my dream of making a living as a writer and becoming a publisher. She already knows I have a blog (though I have never told her the name of the blog). She suggested I start an email newsletter for lesbians. 

I can't lie. The thought has crossed my mind. I don't think I can maintain a daily newsletter. However, I can write a weekly newsletter. I did some research and I discovered that a standard daily newsletter is about 180 words. Newsletters usually consist of advertising as well. For some reason, I thought a newsletter was a two page, front/back, document....but apparently that's only for print newsletters.

I imagine I can create a weekly (not daily) newsletter. It will be much longer than 180 words. In terms of topics, I would like to write about everything from how to tell if your girlfriend is cheating to how to eat the box. Most topics will be serious, mild and hilarious. 

The newsletter will be delivered every Sunday morning (like a newspaper). Subscriptions will cost $1.99 a month. There will be a newsletter every week...for a total of 4 newsletters a month. 

I'm still thinking about names, but right now I'm thinking of calling my newsletter Milk & Honey: A Lesbian's Guide To Life.

I want your input. 

Would you buy a newsletter for lesbians as I have described? Hit the poll below and post your suggestions in the comment section of this post. 

Friday, November 8, 2013

Sometimes I Wonder What The Hell Happened???


I'm horny as hell right now, and that's because I just spent the last 30 minutes playing and replaying the above Karyn White video. Karyn White was (and still is) a very beautiful woman. On top that she can actually sing. Watching her bounce around this video has made me horny and hot. The video also made me ask myself, why don't black women of my generation (whether famous or not) have this same effect on me?

On average, I don't find myself getting this excited by black women of my generation (though there are exceptions like Lauren London).

I can think of an endless list of black (some biracial) women I grew up lusting for....
  • Karyn White
  • Anita Baker
  • Whitney Houston
  • Vanessa Williams
  • Jasmine Guy (in her prime)
  • Beverly Johnson
  • Robin Givens
  • Halle Berry
  • Diahann Carroll
  • Lela Rochon
  • Janet Jackson
  • Nia Long
  • Donna Summers
  • Pebbles
  • Toni Braxton
I can only think of two black women from my generation, who give me the same feeling as the women listed above and truthfully, it is purely sexual with these two...
  • Lauren London
  • Megan Goode
I don't know what the hell happened, but for some reason modern day black women in entertainment are NOT attractive to me.  Beyonce, Rihanna and 'em scream HOODRAT to me. That turns me off. For all the hype surrounding them, I have NEVER found either of these chicks attractive. Beyonce is NOT a beautiful woman to me. I think Rihanna is physically decent looking, but her personality is repulsive.

That must be it.

The black women I was crushing on in the late 1980-1990s carried themselves differently than those of my generation. They were sexy WITHOUT trying to be sexy. Karyn White was beautiful. She didn't have her ass hanging out in the video. Her talent spoke for itself. She was not out here making headlines for smoking weed or marrying a thug.

Black women of today have a serious PR problem. Folks who should NOT be heard or seen are the MAIN individuals on TV these days. The women with class, and actual talent, are NOT seen or heard. They are not promoted in the media. I believe this is playing a major role in my inability to find modern day black women in entertainment attractive. If I feel this way (as a black woman....a lesbian) can you imagine how MEN must feel???

People crop it up to self-hate when black men vocalize their distaste for certain black women, but I honestly think this subject is far deeper than that. There has been a changing of the guard. The "Vanessa Williams" of the world have been replaced by tacky tramps like Rihanna.

I don't know where the blame rest, but it sucks thinking about it.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Chocolate



Chocolate is the woman I was dating prior to getting back together with Yellow Bone. Even though I adored Chocolate (and honestly, I was falling in love with her) I chose to hook back up with Yellow Bone, who in turn told me to cut Chocolate loose completely. 

Even though it was hard, I did as Yellow Bone requested. I told Chocolate I was back together with Yellow Bone. However, I asked Chocolate to be my friend. Hurt and disappointed, Chocolate told me to kick rocks.

Now that things are over with Yellow Bone, my mind has drifted back to Chocolate. 

In hindsight, I wish I'd never picked Yellow Bone over Chocolate. I would never try to hook back up with Chocolate (unless she makes the first move) but I would like to be friends with her. I thought about calling her a while back, but I couldn't get up the courage to do so. Today, temptation got the better of me. I called Chocolate and to my surprise she seemed happy to hear from me. 

Chocolate: I thought about calling you after I heard you quit (referring to the job I quit...we worked together). 

Me: Why didn't you?

Chocolate: Because I was still hurting.

Me: (remorseful) I'm sorry about that...

Chocolate: Don't worry about it. I'm over it. I have someone in my life now. 

Me: (sharp stab of jealousy and disappointment, which I tried to mask) I'm happy for you.

We talked for well over an hour before her "friend" beeped her other line and therefore ended our conversation. 

Needless to say, I'm happy to have Chocolate back in my life.

Monday, November 4, 2013

Family & Money...The Shit Don't Mix!


I am so upset right now. Let me explain...

Almost a month ago I bought this truck....

My baby...Blackjack!

Encouraged by the good mechanical condition of the truck (it only has 80k miles on it...though it was manufactured in 1991...this truck can get upwards to 400k and still keep going) and the rims on the truck, I paid cash for it.

My uncle was with me when I bought it. 

After purchasing the truck, I dropped it off at my uncle's garage to have some work done. My uncle customizes cars. Before I agreed to let him customize it, I called by little brother (who is a mechanic) to ask him how much it would cost to have the work done. He assured me that my uncle quoted me a generous price ($500 for parts + $200 for labor +$175 for the alarm with starter).

Here is a list of things I asked to have done...
  • Replace the front bumper (which you can see from the picture above is bent) with a chrome bumper and grill.
  • Replace the rear taillights (they are outdated).
  • Replace the rear bumper (it too was bent). 
  • Re-upholstery the bench seat inside the truck. 
  • Remove and replace the radio and speakers inside the truck. 
  • Repaint the tan interior of the truck. 
  • Add an alarm system to the truck (which my uncle told me would make the doors powerlock...something I later learned was a lie). 
  • BONUS **Not necessary but would be nice...add some pipes to the truck so you can hear me before you see me. 
  • Purchase custom made floor mates with my name embroidered on them (I actually ordered these online myself).
  • Last but not least, wash the truck and shine the tires/rims.
When I pick up the truck ALL of the above is supposed to be done. 

So, what's the problem?

I'm convinced the crook I call "Uncle" has cheated me. 

First off, every time I stop by his shop to check on the progress of the truck there is something new that needs my attention. Apparently, the doors on GMC trucks "shag" after awhile. So the hingles need to be replaced or else I can look forward to slamming the door to get it to close completely. That is another $215.

Next, the tailgate on the truck...apparently the person who owned the truck before me hit something with the front of the truck. Unfortunately, he was also hit from the rear. We were able to replace the back bumper. However, by doing so another issue was highlighted. The tailgate has issues coming down with the new rear bumper. The accident the former owner had offset the alignment of the truck. This will have to be fixed in a body shop. I don't know how much this will cost. So, I'm guessing $300-$500.

From day one, I told my uncle I want to see the receipts for ALL the parts.

We agreed I would pay him $200 dollars for his labor. The rest of the money would go towards parts. I gave him $700 upfront. I gave him an additional $175 for the alarm, which he told me would include a starter (something I don't even need). I gave him an addition $45.00 for some "blue lights" he said would be necessary to look good with the headlights HE decided to put on my truck. Again, I handed over the money. Here are some pictures of what the truck looks like at this point...

Rear bumper and taillights were replaced...black paint is being redone around bumper


Headlight replaced


The chrome grill... chrome bumper and black bottom fender were later added

I'm still sitting here without any receipts. 

I swore to myself if I even suspected this motherfucker was trying to cheat me I wouldn't hesitate to take his ass to court, and I damn well mean it. 

He said he would email me the receipts tonight...I better get them or there will be hell to pay. 

Why are the receipts important? 
  1. I want to know where every dime of my money went (I don't trust my uncle...and with good reason. I have witnessed him do some slick shit). He used to steal cars for a living. I doubt he would have any issue getting parts without actually paying for them....only to charge me for them later.
  2. I need the receipts for my insurance company. The rims on this truck are hot. Niggas here in Atlanta will try to steal them. That is the whole point of me getting the alarm put on the truck. I need to make sure the rims and the stereo are covered by my insurance company just in case I wake up one morning and find my truck sitting on bricks. 
  3. I hope to write this off on my taxes.  
When I show up to pick up my truck on Saturday it better be on point. I'm planning on taking some chicks to the drive-in in this truck...so it better be on point!

Lesson learned....next time I won't do business with family. 

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Sugar & My Health


Now that my home is cable free I have nothing but my thoughts to entertain me. I've been thinking about a lot of random shit that I wouldn't normally think about. Today while pouring syrup on my blueberry waffles, I started thinking about the sugar used in the syrup. 

Sugar is very powerfully. It is painfully addictive. I'm an addict. I love candy. I know it's not good for me, but I eat it anyway because I like the taste of it.

Sugar has the ability to change the temperament of children and adults. It has the ability to make folks obese and overweight. It has the ability cause a number of health related issues. Sugar is so powerful that I believe it should be declared a drug.

With all the issues associated with sugar I wonder why the hell isn't it declared a drug?

Because white folks control it, and they are making a shit load of money from sugar addicts like me!

It's true! Sugar is a billion dollar business. It is a gold mine. We use sugar in alot of stuff. The powers that be will never think about public health when faced with the opportunity to generate billions of dollars. 

All this got me thinking...
What would happened if someone just stopped eating sugar? 

I imagine their health and mood would improve. They would probably lose a ton of weight. They would probably lose their minds as well. 

I'm not sure if it's possible to just weed one's self off sugar. I believe we are so accustomed to it that we would literally go crazy without it.

I'm so fascinated with this topic that I've decided to stop eating sugar for a year. I want to see what effect it will have on me, my mind and my body.

I'm going cold turkey. 

Tomorrow I will begin my journey, and for one whole year I will NOT eat or drink anything containing sugar. 

To keep my eyes on the prize, I have created a countdown clock, which I have placed in the sidebar. 

Wish me luck on this experiment.

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Loneliness


I'm not easily bothered by loneliness. The fact of the matter is I've been alone for most of my life. Other than my paternal grandmother, I'm not really close to anyone. That might be my fault. I don't trust people. Rather than accept people with open arms, I usually accept them with the same level of caution I would give a stranger. I'm sure some of you know this about me after having had a conversation with me only to find yourself completely cut off later.

As a child I knew I wanted to be a writer. So, books, paper, and pencils occupied my time and mind. I was always in my own world with an endless list of characters...both written and in my own imagination. It was a rare thing that I craved companionship. My best-friends were always the characters in pages of books and those floating around in my imagaination. 

Right now, Dr. Miracle Kirkpatrick, the lesbian scientist is my best-friend. I am in her company 24 hours a day. She's hurt and angry that her girlfriend rejected her marriage proposal after four long years of courtship. Her girlfriend tells her, "I want those things...marriage, kids, a family...but I'm not sure if I want those things with you." Driven to madness, Dr. Miracle sets out to make her girlfriend want those things with her.

While this might seem crazy, Dr. Miracle speaks to me and tells me her story. It is unfolding on my word processor.

I'm convinced the way I grew up (almost completely without true friends) and the way I live now (truthful still completely without true friends) is not healthy or natural. 

Deep down inside I want friends. Deep down inside I wish I was closer to my parents and my brothers. However, no matter how much I want these things I never try to make them happen. I guess that comes from fear of putting myself out there only to be let down. And believe me, I have plenty of reason to believe I will be let down (refer to the archives about my parents).

I don't have the best parents in the world. In fact, my parents suck. Neither is supportive of my dreams. My mother geniuely doesn't seem to care. My dad's only interest is the money I make from writing. I find myself put off while in their company. I can count the number of times I've seen my parents in 2013 on one hand. Unfortunately, the same is also true for my two brothers. 

To my surprise, I've been thinking about moving back home to my small backwoods rural hometown. I've been thinking about moving back home into my grandmother's house (though the house needs to be repaired). I never thought I would see the day I actually feel somewhat homesick and wishing I was closer to my family. At some point, I guess I resigned myself to a life alone....and chances are I'll probably end up back home. 

Friday, November 1, 2013

Bittersweet & My Imagination


My break up with Yellow Bone has hit me hard. 

I haven't left my apartment since Monday. I haven't left my bed since Tuesday. I've been nursing a bottle of rum (straight), staring at the ceiling for hours on end (literally laying on my back and staring straight up at the ceiling), reading a copy of Stephen King's Misery (ironic, I know) and sleeping.

I'm not sure if I'm depressed. I think I'm too drunk to tell.

Today as I lay staring at the ceiling, something unexpected began floating through my mind... 

I began thinking of a story about a lesbian who murders her girlfriend after she rejects her marriage proposal. She kills the heifer with a machete in her sleep only to find herself sitting on deathrow six months later.

But then I thought....No, don't kill the chick. Figure out a way to control her...a way to make her say yes. 

So, began the develop of my latest science fiction novel, which I have decided to call Bittersweet

A black lesbian scientist develops a pill that will make her ex-girlfriend (they break up after the ex says no to her marriage proposal) say YES...not just to her marriage proposal...but to any and everything. Basically, she creates a pill that will turn her girlfriend into a stepford wife. The pill prevents women from saying NO to anything. Unfortunately, due to her selfishness and short-slightness, she doesn't see the ramifications that such an invention will have on society. 

Pros of the pill (depending on your definition of "pro" in this situation): Women, regardless of age, race, background, class etc can be controlled for up to five years using a single pill.

Cons of the pill: The pill only works on women, and therefore can easily be abused by anyone with a grudge against women (think date rape drug, rapist, men who want submissive wives and girlfriends etc). 

Fallout: Men, from all walks of life, become interested in the pill. 

So begins a saga that has dire consequences for the inventor, society and women in general (think a complete erosion of all the gains women have made in society in the last 40-50 years). 

A black lesbian love story is not in my future (on paper and off it seems). However, black lesbians can, and will, play a crucial role in my science fiction stories. 

Get ready...Bittersweet is coming!

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