Monday, April 29, 2013

Caramel & My Thirst For The Pussy


I'm a slave for the pussy. 

That's what I told myself today after breaking my vow to swear off several women in my life. No matter how much I try, I cannot go without sex for too long. When I was celibate for a few years I was fine not having sex. However, now that I've been in a relationship with Yellow Bone, along with a sexual relationship with Caramel, I just don't think I can go without fucking at least once or twice a week! 

I know that sounds bad, but I LOVE sex! It's like a drug. Once you've had it, you start feigning for it. This is probably why I need to find a nice woman and settle down with her. It would be nice to fuck WITHIN a relationship. My wife, whoever she is, will have to be prepared for my sex drive because I don't see it slowing down or stopping anytime soon. 

Anyway...today I broke down and called Caramel, my fuck buddy. She agreed to come over tomorrow after work. She and I will probably screw the night away. I'll wake up the following morning with a pep in my step and a smile on my face (getting laid really does have that effect on me).

Part of me feels bad about turning Caramel out...especially now that she's admitted to falling for me. I feel guilty about continuing to sleep with her now that our sexual relationship has evolved into something more for her.

A bigger part of me feels bad about sleeping with her while her girlfriend is overseas serving her country in Afghanistan. That seems trifling as hell on my part. 

I imagine she's over there combing through caves and desserts looking for Bin Laden's homeboys while I'm chopping down her boothang in her crib in Atlanta, Georgia. I swear I'm going to repent one of these days!

Pray for me. It's the pussy...got me doing things I wouldn't normally do!

To make matters worse, Caramel told me her girlfriend listed her as the beneficiary of her life insurance policy. If this chick dies while overseas Caramel gets $100,000 and the house, which her girlfriend bequeaths Caramel in her will.

After Caramel told me this I remember thinking, "Her girlfriend is dumb as hell!"

Obviously, Caramel's girlfriend loves her and wants to take care of her, but for whatever reason Caramel wants to be with me now.  She doesn't seem at all concerned about her girlfriend's feelings. She once suggested we fuck in her girlfriend's bed. I was like, "Um...hell no! That's foul. Let's go to the guest room!" 

I'm ashamed of myself. 

If the sex wasn't so damn good I swear this would be a non-issue.

Facing The Inevitable

I'm facing the inevitable. Today I made an appointment with an eye doctor. On Friday, he will tell me what I already know: I need eyeglasses.

In the last year my vision has rapidly deteriorated. I don't know if this is due to all the reading I do or because I stare at a computer 8-10 hours a day. However it happened, there is no denying that my vision has gone straight to hell. 

I first become aware of this problem when I was sitting at my desk typing on my word processor. I remember looking up at the clock on my stove, which is about ten feet from my desk, and struggling to read the time. I blinked several times, but I was still unable to make out the time on the clock.

I remember thinking to myself, "Damn...I used to read this clock so good. What the hell is going on?"

Finally, I picked up my cell phone and checked the time using it. 

I can't say I'm surprised. Both my parents wear eyeglasses and so does my little brother. I guess this was bound to happen to me at some point.

So, Friday I will be visiting the eye doctor. I already picked out a pair of eyeglasses I like. I'm planning to buy the DKNY eyeglasses pictured above. I think they will look good on me.

Friday, April 26, 2013

The Barbershop & The Shampoo Girl


First off, I want to thank all the folks who emailed me after my last mental breakdown. I really do appreciate your support. It took almost two days of "woosahing" and a whole lot of self-reflecting, but I'm over it.  Seriously, this was me yesterday and most of today...


but again, I'm over it. The situation was handled peacefully and hopefully that's the end of it.  

On to my next blog...

Today I went to the barbershop to get my hair trimmed. I typically go to the barbershop on Fridays after work. I've been going to the same guy off and on for the last two and half years. He is good people. He is originally from Chicago. From my understanding, he used to be a drug dealer before he turned his life around and started cutting hair. For the purpose of this blog we will call him Chi-Town.

Chi-Town and I are friends. He is almost like a brother to me. He is one of the few black men I can hang around and not feel like the nigga is trying to get my booty!

Anyway, I'm sitting in his chair staring at my reflection in his mirror as he trims my hair to highlight the waves that are prominent. Chi-town tells me he knows some lesbians I might want to "holler at" who are cool people. 

My first reaction was, "Naw, that's alright." Believe me, after that situation with my uncle I learned to NEVER let a black man fix me up! Black men (and probably men in general) have a different set of standards for women than I do. I am thoroughly convinced that black men will fuck just about anything.

While surprised by my reaction, Chi-Town shrugged it off and said, "Yo, you got to see the shampoo girl. She fine as hell. She's a lesbian too and yo I wouldn't mind fucking her." He went on and on about the shampoo girl. He hyped this woman up so much that I started thinking, "Well, damn...she must be bad as hell." 

Chi-Town: "She ain't here right now, but you gotta see this girl. She look good as hell." 

Me (smiling): "Okay...point her out when she gets here." 

About twenty minutes later the shampoo girl walks in carrying a plate of wings. Chi-Town bends over and whispers in my ear, "Yo, that's her right there." 

Me (looking around): Right where?

Chi-Town: Right there with the plate in her hand. 

I turn and look at this woman. I tell you no lie. This was my reaction...


I'm thinking to myself this nigga must be blind in one eye and can't see jack shit out the other!!!!

This broad walked in wearing some black spandex pants, some black and white wedges, and a Bob Marley t-shirt that was knotted on the side. She had the shirt pulled up enough to show her flappy stomach and her very noticeable stretch marks. She had tattoos going up and down both arms and her back! On her head she wore an ugly honey blond wig that touched her shoulders. On top of all that, this woman had rings around BOTH eyes! She looked like she'd been punched in BOTH eyes! 

I looked at this woman and I turned and looked at him to see if he was joking. He was dead ass serious! I'm thinking to myself, "Thank God I didn't let this nigga fix me up! If he thinks this busted ass shampoo girl looks good God only knows what he thinks about his lesbian friends....UGH!"

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

My Last Will & Testament


Now that I'm no longer a poor broke public servant I need to establish a last will and testament. I know some of you are thinking, "What the hell, LezIntellect? You're too young for that!" 

If you have money in the bank, and you expect it to grow, you're never too young to have a will.

All too often we hear about people dying (young and old alike) and not leaving a will to outline the allocation of their resources. I decided a long time ago that I'm not going to be one of those people. 

I don't have any dependents. I'm not married and I don't have any kids. I'm hoping and praying that will change one day in the near future. Until that day comes I have to think about my life as a single childless woman. 

On paper I'm worth six figures (before taxes). Just about all of that comes from my royalities (money made from the sell of my books). If I should die tomorrow I want to make sure my affairs are in order. 

I'm writing my own last will and testament.

When I was a librarian I helped enough patrons research last will and testaments to know how to compose one myself.

My will is going to be short and sweet. After all my debts are paid I expect my resources to be allocated as follows: 

I'm setting aside several thousands of dollars for the care of my grandmother, who is currently living out her twilight years in a nursing home. She has given me so much. I love her more than anyone in my life. As far as I'm concerned, as long as I have the means, she will not want for anything. 

I'm going to leave my parents a few thousand dollars (and I do mean a few). 

I am going to leave the rest of my money to Spelman College for the education of young black women. I love my alma mater with all my heart. I always said if I ever found myself in a position to give back I would. When I was a student at Spelman I received a yearly scholarship from the family of a deceased alumnae (they set the scholarship up to honor their mother). I never met the family, but I was extremely grateful for their generosity. I swore I would pass it forward.

It dawned on me that my copyrights are valuable intellectual property. I expect to receive royalties from my books for years and years to come. Therefore, they are just as valuable as the money I have in the bank. So, I've decided to will my copyrights and ALL future royalties to Spelman College. 

When I die I don't want to be put in a casket and buried in the ground. I want to be cremated and I want my ashes dumped into the Atlantic ocean off the coast of Georgia. 

Once I complete my will I plan to put it in the safety deposit box my new employer (the bank) gave me free of charge. It will stay there unless something changes in my life (i.e., a wife and kids).

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Tomboys & Purses

I'm a tomboy.

I have ALWAYS been a tomboy. 

I never liked to do things that girls are supposed to do. I never wore dresses (unless I was forced to do so...ex. prom). I never played with dolls. I never wore makeup or had a fascination with cosmetics. I never took much interest in clothes, fashion etc (though I do care about my appearance). I never asked my parents to buy me toys such as Easy Bake ovens, Polly Pocket (though my mother bought me Polly Pocket toys anyway) or Cabbage Patch Kids (though my grandmother did give me a Cabbage Patch Kid). Instead, I wanted the same things that my brothers wanted. 

I wanted a Sega, a Playstation, a Super Nintinedo, and a Trampoline. I wanted model cars (my dad bought me a red Ferrari, which I loved!). I wanted a football, a go-cart and a moped. I want an electric racetrack and games to play on the Sega. 

If my mom or dad bought me something that even resembled a doll or anything girlish I would take it and throw it to the side. I loved teddy bears but I hated dolls. My mom would grow frustrated and give those toys away to her friends' kids. I didn't care because I never wanted them. 

I think my mom wished I was like other little girls. I think she wished she had a daughter who she could mold, but I wasn't having it. I resisted any attempt she made to "convert" my tomboy ways. 

I remember when we used to go school shopping. We were poor and my mom would take us to K-Mart or Wal-Mart a few weeks before school was scheduled to begin for the year. My brothers and I were too young to be concerned with labels so we didn't think twice about shopping at these stores. We were just happy to get new clothes. We only saw new clothes twice a year: the beginning of the school year and Christmas.  

My mom used to pick out five outfits for each of us. She always had the toughest time with me. I swore up and down I wouldn't wear any of the clothes she tried to pick out in the girls' section. I refused to try on the clothes. While my brothers were over in the boys' section, she and I were arguing in the girls' section. Eventually she would relent and pick me out some flannel shirts and some jeans from the boys' section. 

Other than the hair bows in my hair and the breast that began to bloom from my eleven year old chest (real talk my titties developed when I was 11 years old and they hurt like hell), there was virtually no sign of a girl in me. 

I liked it that way. 

I was still a very cute child. I don't think I was the type of tomboy that people looked at and raised an eyebrow as if to say, "What the hell is wrong with this child?" I was an adorable tomboy, capable of charming anyone that entered my life. As I grew and bloomed so too did my confidence and charm.

My period hit when I was 12 years old and I hated it. My body was changing and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. Up until the year I got my breast I used to walk around without a shirt on just like my brothers. I didn't do this simply because I saw them doing it. The weather influenced my decision to go shirtless. 

Here in Georgia it gets hot as hell in July and August. My parents didn't believe in turning on the air condition. So we were forced to keep cool by using store bought fans and stripping down to shorts and underwear. A shirt was an unnecessary luxury for me prior to developing breast.

Once my period began my mother decided to get me a purse. 

My mother: "You need a purse to carry your kotex." 

Me (Blank stare): "I'm not carrying a purse. "

I refused to carry a purse then and I refuse to carry one now. I hate purses. The only time you will catch me carrying a purse is if I need one for a special formal occasion (and most likely I will be wearing a dress as well). My mother continued to buy me purses for Christmas and I refused to carry them.

So what do I carry? This...


The above is my everyday bag. It is a backpack and it's 100% leather. When I'm not at work it goes everywhere with me. I love it because it's spacious. I can carry around my books and my notepad without any issues. Next...
I carry a briefcase similar to the one above. It doesn't look exactly like the one pictured, but it is similar.

I carry a checkbook style wallet, which holds my checkbook, debit cards and my cash. 

This is all I need to be happy!

I'll leave purses for women like my mother. As a tomboy, a purse is not something I need in my life. 

Saturday, April 20, 2013

I Choose My Money & My Sanity Over Women


I'm officially off the market. 

I've decided to put my money and my sanity before women. No more Cougar. No more Caramel. No more Yellow Bone (though she and I are now friends). No more women period. I don't need the stress and the bullshit in my life right now. So, I choose to be single and alone.

Why the sudden change?

I will be 28 years old in a few months. I'm seriously not feeling any of the women in my life right now. My focus for now on is going to be my money and becoming the business woman I want to be. 

I have said over and over again that I want to be a publisher in some shape or form. Well, I'm dedicated to making that happen. I'm going to start and publish a magazine. That is my goal. It is set in stone. It is going to happen sometime in the near future. 

Whenever I set my sights on a woman I tend to lose focus and I take my eyes off the prize. I'm done fucking around with women.

The next woman who enters my life will have to earn MY attention. It won't be the other way around. When I stop and focus on women I almost always find myself hemmed up in some bullshit...

Cougar: Gave me the run around for well over a year. She finally came around and gave me some coochie. For a while we were cool. However, whenever she speaks to me it comes across as condescending. It is almost like a parent speaking to a child. I don't know if it's our age difference or a piece of her personality I missed while allowing my vagina to dictate my senses.

Caramel: My fuck buddy who has a girlfriend in the military. When her girlfriend returns to the USA she's going to put her combat boot up against the side of my head. I was fully prepared to drop Caramel on her ass before her girlfriend returns. However, I wasn't prepared to learn that Caramel has caught feelings for me. *Sigh* that wasn't part of the plan.

Yellow Bone: Claims she's moved on, but still tells me she loves me despite the boundaries I tried to set with her. Got pissed off when she discovered I was using our child (Peanut, our Poodle...we share custody of him) to pick up chicks at the park. Called me every kind of name in the book before hanging up the phone in my face.

The chick I proclaimed my love to on this blog in the form of a love letter: Stopped speaking to me over some shit I did NOT do. I finally decided to let this woman go after coming to the conclusion that she really isn't worth the trouble. Why continue to pursue someone who wants out of my life? The best thing to do is show that individual the door and keep it moving. Life is too damn short to continue to plead innocent to someone that is cold, distant, obtuse, irrational and weird as hell. I'm ashamed that I wasted my time, energy and blog on this one. Not to mention I strongly suspect this chick is bisexual, which places her in the undesirable category for me now that those faulty rose-colored glasses have been removed.

I think you get the picture. 

So for now on my life will look like this....

MONEY & SANITY > WOMEN

Robbing The Bank In The 21st Century


I recently made a much needed career change. I was becoming more and more frustrated in my field. Public service (librarianship in my case) is no longer my cup of tea. If I can't get a job as an academic or special collections librarian (something like archives) I'm not going to work in my field. I don't need or want the stress that comes with dealing with the public (and yes, it is stressful as hell).

I quit my job at the library and took a position at a large well-known bank. I'm an investigator for the bank. I investigate fraud claims. I basically follow the money trail when someone files a fraud claim on their account.

I have learned alot about banks, fraud, criminals and the way criminals operate. This job has changed my life in the most unexpected way... 

I'm one of those people who never carries cash. I pay for everything with my debit card. It doesn't matter if it's a $1.00 piece of candy or gas for my car. I pay for everything using my debit card. That all changed when I took this job. 

It is very rare that we hear about folks walking into the bank and robbing it at gunpoint. It still happens, but it doesn't happen as much as it used to happen. Why? 

Criminals still desire money. 

Why aren't they robbing banks at gunpoint like they used to do back in the day? I'll tell you why...

They have become smarter in regards to robbing the bank. 

Criminals don't have to walk into the bank and rob it at gun point anymore. They can gain access to your bank account, credit cards and debit cards by simply hacking into a merchant's account. They can gain access to all of the above when you use your cards at the gas pump or any store. 

I can use my debit card in Atlanta, Georgia today and someone can steal my card number, counterfeit it on a hotel card key (all they need is a card with a strip) and they can use that counterfeit card or several counterfeit cards in Germany the next day. They can steal my card information and sell it to someone in France. I could wake up tomorrow and discover that someone has cleaned out my bank account and used my card in Australia. 

Oh it gets worse...

The bandits can actually get away with it! 

The smart bandits who participate in "bank robbing of the 21st century" are faceLESS. Unlike the bandits who hold up the bank at gunpoint in front of cameras, security guards and several witnesses, these motherfuckers can rob the bank several times over and NEVER get caught.

I know some of you are asking, "How the hell are they robbing the bank by stealing money out of people's accounts?" 

Just think about it...

If my money is stolen from my bank account the bank will return it to my account (if it's proven fraud). 

The bandit who stole my loot from my account by stealing my debit card number most likely will NEVER be discovered. Why? It's possible that he/she might not live in this country or he/she might be apart of a fraud ring consisting of several people. Those people can be former bank executives, former CIA agents, computer hackers and MIT nerds. 

Needless to say, I write checks now! 

Check fraud is less common than other types of fraud. 

My debit cards stay in my wallet. It's too damn easy to rob the bank nowadays. 

My new job has inspired me to write a screenplay. Wish me luck on the outcome.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

My Review Of The Film Pariah


Two days ago I watched the film Pariah for the first time. I heard about the film months ago, but I ignored it because I thought it would be the same old stereotypical bullshit we always get when it comes to lesbians of color. The thing that finally made me sit down and watch it was the trailer of the film, which I came across on Youtube.

In the trailer Kim Wayans (member of the comic family: The Wayans...and who knew she could REALLY act???) says, "Your daughter is turning into a damn man right before your eyes." That statement caught my attention because it is EXTREMELY provocative. It literally stopped me in my tracks...


Pariah is a film about a young black lesbian who is coming to terms with her sexuality. The young woman is in high school. She lives in a household that is composed of a nuclear family (mother, father, siblings). While her parents ARE married, they aren't happily married. In fact, her father is having an affair.

The protagonist's mother is unbelievably aggressive, demanding and domineering. Her sister is boy crazy, but a typical younger sibling. Her father is somewhat passive aggressive at times, but he is very much the head of the household. The main character's best-friend is a stud, who tries to help her come to terms with her sexuality. 

In this film the protagonist slowly but surely comes to terms with her sexuality. She becomes interested in attracting a mate. She leaves home wearing feminine "girlish" clothes. When she arrives at school she changes into masculine "boyish" clothes. She asks her BFF (the stud) to get her a strap in a misguided effort to appear more aggressive to girls.

The protagonist eventually attracts a love interest, who ironically is introduced to her by her mother, who doesn't approve of her friendship with the stud. The protagonist's mother believes the new girl will make a better playmate for her daughter than the stud (note: the protagonist's mother is homophobic). 

At first the protagonist dislikes the girl. She dislikes her because she doesn't appreciate her mother picking her friends. The two of them soon grow close.

Funny enough, the protagonist doesn't make the first move. One day the girl leans over and kisses the protagonist. From that point on the two of them grow closer and eventually they sleep together. 

The morning after they sleep together, the girl blows the protagonist off, and tells her she was just experimenting (paraphrased). She makes it clear that their one night together was a one time thing. The protagonist leaves angry and heartbroken.

Later on that night the protagonist has it out with her mother (and her father), after she overhears them arguing. She tells her parents she is gay. Her mother physically attacks her. The protagonist leaves home and goes to live with her BFF (the stud).

My thoughts on the film...

Pros
  • The plot is good.
  • The acting is good. Kim Wayans gives a great performance.
  • I can actually somewhat relate to the story. I had my first sexual encounter with a woman while I was still in high school. That bitch turned out to be married. So, I can definitely understand how it feels to be deceived. 
  • I can relate the confrontation between the protagonist and her parents concerning her sexuality. Once again, I have experienced it myself.
  • I can relate to issues concerning self-doubt/self-esteem and a desire to attract a mate. I still experience this sometimes.
Cons
  • The characters were extremely stereotypical. Once again, we get to see a black lesbian who is portrayed as an unattractive stud (or tomboy...depending on whether she's around her mother or not). I'm not trying to be funny and I'm not trying to be mean. Once I set eyes on the protagonist my first thought was, "Damn they couldn't find a better looking girl than this? She looks like Celie from The Color Purple!"
You Sho Is Ugly!
    Look at that picture and tell me I'm lying!!!
  • The symbolism behind the scrap: The protagonist suffers from low self-esteem and low self-confidence. She overhears an attractive girl at her school talking about her. The attractive girl says she's cute (or something like that) but declares her "too soft." The girl admits that she likes aggression in the form of males (the attractive girl is neither gay nor bisexual). The protagonist associates aggression with having a dick. That's when she asked her stud friend to get her a scrap. She thinks it will help her attract the attractive girl. 
  • The situation with the girl she fucks: Instead of getting pissed off and kicking the trash cans outside the girl's building she should have punched the chick in her face! (Kidding...maybe). The producers missed out on a golden opportunity here. They could have given us a fairytale ending with the two girls walking off into the sunset together. Instead we get the same old dysfunctional bullshit involving a lying bicurious hussy. On one hand I appreciate art imitating life. On the other hand, I watch movies like this to escape life and reality. I don't need to be reminded that there are some heartless tricks in this world.
  • The protagonist's friends: They are all stereotypical thugged out studs and hoodrats. 
  • The title of this film seems inappropriate. When I think of a pariah I think of a criminal such as a sex offender, rapist, murderer, child abuser etc. A pariah to me is someone that has been shunned by society for some type of offense. While homosexuality is still frowned down upon by certain individuals in our society, I don't think the word pariah is the appropriate term to use.
Overall, I give this film a B.

If you want to view Pariah I found a pirated copy online....

Monday, April 15, 2013

Pussy So Good!!!

Well, it finally happened. Last night I chopped down Cougar (formerly known as my property manager) and it was good as hell! There is something extremely sexy and arousing about screwing an older woman. This particular woman is old enough to be my mother. Last night I had her ass moaning like a wounded animal!


I don't usually brag about my "sexual conquests" but I'm quite proud of myself for finally fucking this woman. If you don't know our history check my archives! Believe me...I worked hard for this pussy!

So now I'm facing a dilemma...

I'm still fucking Caramel and well...that's some good pussy too! 

I keep Caramel around because she is a freak and she's down for whatever. All I have to do is pick up the phone and call her. The next thing I know she's on her knees between my legs with her nice round titties hanging out. Her head game is so sick she will have you on the verge of tears! She has spoiled me. Sexually she doesn't have any inhibitions. 

We have fucked on the floor, on the kitchen counter (I know...it's nasty right?), on my bed, etc. We made this freaky sex tape and we fucked while we watched it (thankfully I was smart enough to destroy it after we watched it together)!

Needless to say, I'm addicted! Had I known a "fuck buddy" would be this great I would have recruited one a long time ago!

My dilemma is I feel some kind of way about fucking two women at the same time. It doesn't quite feel right. Part of me wishes I could just relax and enjoy all this "free/no strings attached" pussy. I wish I could just fuck all the women riding my coattails and not give it another thought. However, the BETTER part of me feels like a whore!

I don't understand how people do this shit (i.e, juggle more than one lover at the same time). It doesn't feel right to me. I will have to make a choice between these two women. My conscience won't let me screw them both at the same time.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

The Nerve Of White Americans


It is very hard to like White Americans. It is very hard to find some redeeming qualities in White Americans collectively. Let me tell you why...

A few days ago I was listening to the radio while on my way to work. I don't remember if I was listening to the Steve Harvey Morning Show or Tom Joyner, but there was a woman on the show talking about African American history in Paris. This woman owns her own tour company and she gives tours of the city's historical African American districts. Her tours are basically guides to the history of Africans Americans who lived and/or worked in Paris during The Jazz Age, The Harlem Renaissance and the mid-20th century. 

Paris was a very welcoming place for black writers, artists, dancers, painters etc during the Jim Crow era. During Jim Crow African Americans were treated like shit by White Americans. We couldn't vote. We couldn't live without being harassed, raped, beaten or killed. We always had to enter restaurants and hotels through the back door and sometimes we couldn't enter these places at all. In Paris the opposite was true.

People like Hazel Scott, Josephine Baker, Richard Wright, Chester Himes, James Baldwin, Paul Robeson and many others made their homes in Paris, a city that welcomed them with opened arms. Others like Fredi Washington, Langston Hughes, Dorothy Dandridge, Lena Horne, Duke Ellington, Cab Calloway etc were treated like kings and queens when they visited the city. 

It's safe to say African Americans have a rich cultural history in Paris and France. So, when I heard about this woman giving tours of that history in Paris my interest was immediately peaked. As a writer and an artist I find this type of information interesting and compelling. I have always been interested in traveling to Paris myself. I used to fantasize about leaving America and becoming an expatriate.

Yesterday, as I was relaxing, I did a search for African Americans in Paris tours (I couldn't remember the tour guide's name). I came across an article on CNN's website (Link). I enjoyed the article but when I began reading the comments under the article my blood began to boil. 

I strongly despise White Americans as a collective. I've been very forth-coming about my prejudice. As someone who has lived in the south my entire life and has experienced THEIR racism I feel they have EARNED my hatred in spades. 

If you take a look at the comments on the CNN article you will notice there are whites making comments asking why we "blacks" refer to ourselves as "African American." There are comments asking why such a tour (one that focuses on the history of African Americans in Paris) even exist. There are comments saying that any African American who lives or moves to Paris is no longer an American. Then there are the extremely racist comments that refer to African Americans as everything under the sun. 

All of the above are reasons I cannot stand White Americans. Let me break it down point by point...

White Americans ask: "Why do blacks refer to themselves as African Americans?"

My Answer: Why the hell do you care what we call ourselves? Why do you take us calling ourselves African Americans as a personal affront to yourselves? Is our use of the words "African American" stopping you from voting, paying your bills, taking care of your family, or living a healthy/prosperous life? Noooooo! So why the hell do you care? 

Is it because we have taken the power out of your hands and denied you the "right" to label us with terms like "Negro" "Colored" "Darky" "The Blacks" and "Nigger"? 

Labels were fine when YOU were the group putting them on us. However, now that WE, AFRICAN AMERICANS, have crafted our own label, and completely disregarded YOUR labels, you want to scream foul. Get the fuck out of here! 

The term "African American" refers to those of us born in the United States who are descendants of BLACK Africans

It is a way of hanging onto our heritage, which you try so hard to STEAL and TAKE from us. It is no different than "Asian American" (refers to people of Asian descent born in America), Hispanic American (refers to people of Hispanic descent born in America) or Italian American, Polish American, Irish American, French American etc. 

Charlize Theron would not be considered an "African American" because she is of European descent. Though she is South African, her WHITE EUROPEAN ancestors immigrated to South Africa. Given the reality that she is WHITE and of EUROPEAN descent and BORN in South Africa a term like "African American" wouldn't fit her.

Furthermore, I find it amazing that you seem to catch feelings about African Americans refusing to  refer to ourselves simply as "American." Please catch up on YOUR history. You selectively pick and choose when we, African Americans, are Americans. 

One minute you're telling us we don't belong here and "It's a white Anglo Saxon country." The next minute you're pissed off because we refer to ourselves as "African American" rather than "American." Then in the next breath you assholes dispute the American citizenship of our first biracial/black president, who is actually proud to be an American. You're constantly trying to find "proof" that he was born outside this country though FACTS prove he IS an American citizen.

Then you have the nerve to get pissed off when we don't show any patriotism on YOUR ridiculous hypocritical holidays (i.e., Independence Day) and when you decide to declare war on other black and brown people around the world. Why the hell would African Americans celebrate this bullshit? While your WHITE ancestors were out celebrating their independence from the British our BLACK ancestors were in bondage!!!

White American ask: Why does an African Americans in Paris tour exist?

My answer: The same reason why places like Gettysburg and Arlington National Cemetery exist. It is history. It is someone's heritage. It is a testament to history and greatness. Just because you cannot appreciate the history and accomplishments of non-whites doesn't make that history any less significant to other groups.

What you idiots refuse to understand is this: There wouldn't be a need for "black history month" "black music month" "African American museums" "Historically Black College and Universities" and "African American history tours" if we were all inclusive as a society. The fact remains, black and brown people, often have to make our own way. We have to clear our own paths. We have to celebrate ourselves because you refuse to allow us to be treated equally in EVERY regard. You don't want us in your world so please shut the fuck up talking about us starting our own organizations, colleges, tours and museums.

I honestly believe your reaction to things like this stem from jealousy. 

We all know White Americans don't have a culture (and if they do have one it's one that is heavily influenced by non-whites) and your history isn't much to celebrate. You've spent the majority of your time on this planet shitting on other races of people, starting wars, destroying the environment, polluting food supplies, killing innocent animals and beings and stealing everything that isn't nailed down.

You all take bits and pieces of culture from other races and reappropriate it as your own. Then you label yourselves "The King of Rock and Roll" "The Princess of Pop" "The Queen of Pop" etc. When truth be told just about every one of your musical icons (ex. Elvis, The Beetles, Madonna, Justin Timberlake, Adele) is guilty of "stealing" from African American musical culture. 

I once asked a white man if White Americans have a culture. He said yes. I asked him what is White American culture? He said, "Credit cards, McDonalds, Apple pie and Thanksgiving." 

Me to him: *Blank stare*

The question becomes what the hell do White Americans have to celebrate? Being white??? Being a soulless race of people? Being the thieves and the rapist of the world's natural resources and its people?

I could possibly muster up an ounce of respect for some of you if you would admit the obvious: When it comes to cultural influences, whether it be music, literature, dance etc, you suck! You need other races of people to influence a culture of your own. So, the thought of African Americans (a group you have tried to beat down in every way) being loved and adored for our culture (one that you criticize before later reappropriting as your own) makes you see the green eyed monster (jealousy). It makes you sick to your stomach. You got some nerve!

I can go on and on about the nerve of White Americans, but I think I will stop here.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Wow She Gets Me!


I've been reading the results of my random survey I asked you to complete and I must say I'm really enjoying what I'm reading. Most of you have very interesting lives and most of you have very interesting stories. Maybe I'm not the only one who should consider writing a memoir (hint hint).

One particular survey caught my eye. I am interested in having a conversation with the individual who wrote the response below to question number ten... 

Why do you follow my blog (seriously...I want to know)? What is your impression of me (and you can be completely honest...this survey is anonymous)?

Her response...

"I enjoy following your blog because sometimes you remind me of myself depending on what you are blogging about. I also like reading your blog, because you speak your mind and you can actually communicate and convey your thoughts in writing. Not always do I agree with you, sometimes I think you are defensive, sharp tongued and harsh. From reading the short story and books you've written, I've concluded you are a great writer with a vivid imagination. My impression of you is the following: you are a very well versed writer with an exceptional raw edge. You are private but curious, and you are very cautious. You desire a partner that meet your specifications, but you don't want your depression, mood swings or other extraneous variables to ruin your relationship. You are an individual that's compassionate and you love hard. You ask many questions, because you seek truthful answers. You enjoy sex, but you would much rather enjoy making love to your girlfriend. I could go on, but I will stop for now."

My response: Wow this woman gets me!

Whoever you are, I want to have a conversation with you. Please email me lezintellect@gmail.com.

Be Apart Of This Study About Black Lesbians...


Yesterday a doctorate candidate emailed me about a research study she is conducting about black lesbians. Normally I would ignore this type of email, but curiosity got the best of me. I support the black intellectual community. God knows we need more black scholars. We also need more information about us (black lesbians), our issues and our struggles. 

This woman is looking for black lesbians to participate in her study. I agreed to advertise her study. She promised to provide me a copy of the completed study so that I can share the results on my blog. Here is the information you need to participate in the study...

Hello,   
My name is Morenike Oshi-Ojuri, and I am a doctoral candidate of clinical psychology at John F. Kennedy University, Pleasant Hill, CA. As a part of my dissertation research, I am interested in the experiences of African American lesbian women, and how these multiple identities have impacted their experience of social privilege and or denigration. I am currently looking for participants in a confidential, quantitative study on this topic.
If you choose to participate, you will be asked to recall categorical incidences of implicit discrimination and rate whether you’ve experienced these incidences, and whether or not these experiences have had any emotional impact. My motivation is to contribute more culturally competent research in the clinical field for the African American lesbian population. By participating in this study, you may have the opportunity to influence the provision of culturally responsive healthcare in African American lesbian populations.

Participation is voluntary and confidential, and you may withdraw from the study any time prior to its completion. You’ll know you are a good fit for the study if you endorse the following participant inclusion criteria below:

a)
   In my daily life, I identify as a woman.

b)
In my daily life, I identify as African American or Black.

c)
  In my daily life, I identify as Lesbian.

d)
I am at least 18 years old.

If you or someone you know fit such criteria and might be interested in participating, please feel free to contact me by email at mfoojuri@gmail.com or by simply following this link http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/microstudy . (link to study)  
You time is much appreciated,
Morenike F. Oshi-Ojuri, M.A.
Doctoral Candidate  of Clinical Psychology
School of Graduate and Professional Studies
John F. Kennedy University | Pleasant Hill, CA

Monday, April 8, 2013

The Dark-Skinned Beauty At The Gas Station

This is NOT her!

There is a Racetrack gas station up the street from my apartment complex. I go there all the time for gas. In fact, I think it might be the only gas station that I use in my area. It seems like the gas there is cheaper than all the other service stations in the area. 

Every time I go to this particular gas station I am taken aback by the beautiful dark-skinned black woman that works behind the counter. She is stunningly beautiful. She is blue-black dark-skinned. She has that extremely rare dark skin that we don't see with too many African Americans anymore thanks to decades of race mixing. Her complexion is extremely striking and it's really hard not to stare.

Physically, this woman is slim. She is about 5'4'' tall. She probably weighs around 115 pounds soak and wet. Her features are slim and noticeably Eurocentric in appearance, which makes her appearance all the more striking. Honestly, I wouldn't expect to see such features on her given her skin tone (I know that sounds ignorant but I've been conditioned). 

She has a very feminine grace and her walk reminds me of a feline. This woman is a diamond in the rough. I'm almost certain she could be a supermodel. She blows every well-known model (black or white) out the water.

I can't help but stare at her while I'm standing in line to pay for my gas. The first time I set eyes on her I remember thinking "My God! This woman is gorgeous!" 

The only thing I find out of place with her appearance is the ugly wig (not weave) she wears on her head. The wig doesn't look right on her. It is a long bob with bangs. Sometimes it looks lopsided to me and it's extremely distracting. Honestly, if you saw her, you would immediately notice it too. I often think to myself, "This woman would be the most gorgeous woman in the world if she would rock her own damn hair! A full-blown afro would look great on her!"

Dark-skinned black women are beautiful. I know society often says something different, but I truly believe dark-skinned black women are awesome. I just wish more of them knew it. I wish more of them would say fuck the world and just be happy with themselves and their beauty. 

Saturday, April 6, 2013

Another Random Survey


I have put together another survey. I want to know more about you, the readers of this blog. While some of you comment on my blog and some of you email me, most of you lurk, read and keep it moving. I don't have any issue with any of the above however, I would like to know more about you. 

I want to know who is reading my blog. I think it's only fair. After all, you know MOST of my business! 

So, I put together another random survey of questions. This survey is for my eyes only and it's completely anonymous. Take time out of your day to complete it. This survey is open to all. It will be open indefinitely. 

Click this LINK to take the survey.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

I No Longer Eat Meat

I have officially given up meat...again! 

I stopped eating meat once before and I dropped 30 pounds in those 8 months I stopped eating meat. At that point in my life I was extremely depressed having lost the woman of my dreams. She was a vegetarian. After things ended with us I stopped eating meat. It wasn't something I planned or consciously thought about. It just happened. It was one of the best decisions I ever made. I felt healthy. I felt like a weight had been lifted. I felt lighter and my mood was noticeably more pleasant. I want that feeling back!

I don't know what they are sticking in the food nowadays but the shit must be bad as hell if it's impacting my moods. It's been two weeks since I touched a piece of meat. I'm hoping to keep this up for the rest of my life. The only reason I fell off the wagon the first time around is because my mouth was watering for some turkey. It was Thanksgiving and I couldn't resist the temptation. Once I set eyes on my mother's turkey I knew my life as a vegetarian was over...temporarily. I'm going to be stronger this time around!

God willing, I'm going to try my hardest to stop eating candy/junk food as well. Wish me luck!

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

I'm Leaving Atlanta...The Sooner The Better


I'm leaving Atlanta. There isn't anything keeping me here. I've made up my mind about it. Right about now I'm feeling like the woman who's voicemails I put on blast a few months ago. "Atlanta ain't brought me nothing but heartache anyway..." Yeah I feel you, which is why I'm ready to chuck the dueces too.

Today a recruiter from a school in Savannah, Georgia contacted me about a position I applied for a few weeks ago. The position is perfect for me. The position is a library manager position in an academic library.

I can already picture myself sitting on the patio of my beachfront apartment with my typewriter or word processor typing away at my next bestseller. I can see myself growing old in a place like Savannah. I can see myself buying a home there and raising a family in the area. I guess we will have to wait and see how this plays out.

Side note: Happy birthday to one of the greatest soul singers to ever live...Marvin Gaye. Even though I was born in 1985, a year after he was killed, I still play his music religiously like a true fan. I love him dearly...



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