I'll Even Cut My Hair And Change My Name

So I chopped off all my hair. Yeah, I couldnt think of a good way to start this post so I figured I would just come right out and say it. After weeks of torturing my poor hair with bonded tracks and attempting to go back to my regular hair style after removing them, I was just fed up with it and had Ana hack it off. I havent had short hair since my son was a baby, but I know I like it. I also know that its very freeing. Its light, and its beautiful.

So as the hairdresser is chopping down what could only be described as a lopsided flaxen briar patch, I was texting with a friend who I thought was going to break out into that line from International Players Anthem "Dont do it! Reconsider, read some literat-ure on the subject" cause she was highly upset with me for even suggesting I was going to cut it.

I tell you like I tell her, its hair and it will grow back. Seriously, I am not all that attached to it. In fact as I was toting around that full bag of tracks last week I was very unhappy with the prospect of having permanent long hair. It was hot, and I had to spend way too much time dealing with it. Pressing it, curling it, trying to keep it out of my face. I understand that long is the way to go for a whole bunch of folks, but for me, I am going to keep it easy. It cant be so bad, I got more compliments on it in an hour than I ever have on that look I was sporting before. God bless the Dominicans.

I think I just needed a change really. So many things in my life are so heavy right now, and I just need something to be young, fresh and new if you get my drift. I even managed to soak off those acrylic nails I was ever so fond of.....yeah right. I guess for me, my worth doesnt come from a head full of hair or a full set. No, I seem to manage just fine without them.

Other than that, life is starting to return to normal I guess. The old folks returned from their jaunt around the world. They are both violently ill and I have been trying to quaranteen them both to no avail. I dont understand what it is with sick folks and touching things. Just go sit somewhere already.

The whole issue with the starvation weightloss worked out, but today was the very first time I have had the opportunity to go to the gym, but hey what do you do. At least I havent gained any weight since the wedding. I promised my homegirl that this time next year we would go to Ocean City and I would be wearing my old small swimsuits. Two-piece mind you! I dont play, I keeps it real.

Okay, I have to go practice the Cupid Shuffle so I can show up/embarrass my son. What are mom's for?

Bury Me In 93

Pour out a little liquor, bury me in some Used jeans
A Champion top and a cherry push pop
Bury me in 93, nothin more nothin less,
When I get where I'm goin, I just gotta be fresh


Okay okay maybe I am being a touch dramatic, but if you had seen what I saw last night, you might recite Young Jeezy lyrics too. Last night I witnessed something so heartbreaking that I may never recover. Sit a spell and let me tell you about it.


So "the boy" and I have been home alone for the last few days while the old folks jaunt across the Mediterranean by cruise ship. I am sure they are having a blast. Me and the boy are actually having a blast too, its called peace and quiet. Since the wedding I have been attempting to catch up on my reality TV. I missed a lot, and I have to apologize for promising to review SYTYCD this year and totally giving up mid season but I hear Sabre won and deserved it.


I've been a bit on the stressed out side and trying to lose an enormous amount of weight in a really short period of time. I was going to write about the "dress debacle" while it was occurring but I figured Dia might read it and have a panic attack. Long story short, since February I have gone from 175lbs to 150lbs. That last 5-10 being the hardest to budge and though its not right, I went on a starvation diet for two weeks. The dress fit, and I stopped living in the gym and off tomato, cheese, water, red bull and apples. Don't try that at home kids. There is nothing cute about hypoglycemic attacks while driving...trust me.


Anyway, I am getting sidetracked (its probably residual hunger) so back to my reality TV catch up. Last night I watched one of the Rock of Love episodes (highly recommended reality filth) and this new show came on behind it. Mission: Man Band.


Now I had heard about this show in passing, but I didn't know who the hell was on it or really what the hell it was about. I know yall think I spend my whole life memorizing rap lyrics and watching trash TV but really there is more to me than that. Well, after that diet there isnt much of anything left of me so I will just stick to the topic. While I was busy sitting around cursing these damn acrylic tips and trying press and curl a head full of bonded Yaki #4, I realize that the boys (excuse me Men) on this show used to be real life performers.


We have Chris Kirkpatrick from NSync, the kid who wasn't the Lachey brothers or the funny looking kid from 98 Degrees, The guy who sang that one annoying song about girl and Abercrombie from LFO and some fat guy in a hat with a beard. Who the hell is that exactly???

So I paid it no mind, kept on flat iron curling the nonsense on my head when I hear them start talking about the fat kid and drinking. Seriously WHO IS THAT GUY??


That's when I got out my trusty iPhone (yes I bought one, don't judge me the bible says not to) and started trying to Wiki this Mission Man Band show, when suddenly I heard the guy's name. Bryan Abrams. Shit, I know that guy, why do I know that guy I am thinking and suddenly, they flash on his face and it hits me like Blake hits Amy Winehouse at 4am.


OH SHIT! That's BRYAN.


Yeah so you are lost right now, but I am seriously still traumatized by my revelation. Bryan is the Bryan of Mark, Bryan, Kevin and Sam Color Me Badd fame. The same Bryan that I spent countless hours drooling over and taping pictures of next to my shrine of Mark Wahlberg in high school. The Bryan that I would probably have stepped over any man (maybe not Marky Mark) to get to just for a few bars of "I Adore Mi Amore".

Coincidentally I had a boyfriend who attempted to sing that song once and almost ruined it for me forever. Thanks a lot Jason Swoyer wherever your ass is. Never mind the fact that I still have the original Color Me Badd CD in heavy rotation on my iPod and still remember all the words to "All For Love" and "Thinkin Back" (okay you see my devotion right) I mean I never gave a damn about the other members of the group, but let me assure you that if Bryan had a fan, it was me.

Yes he came in on my list right under Mark and Jon B (lawd dont get me started) so you know it was serious.

Why am I all hyped up and heartbroken (yes I think I can safely say its heartbreak) about all this. Well let me hip you to a few photos. This was the Bryan I knew and loved back in 93.

And this is the Bryan of 2007's Mission Man Band:

They sorta got him cleaned up for the promo shots but I mean damn is this really better?























Seriously, why am I the last to know everything? Why didn't anyone say something to me about this? Or did no one else know? Just call me on the phone, send me a damn text or something and explain it to me. I mean I am reasonable. It seriously took me half an hour to close my mouth. Then I had to call The Makeup Girl and tell her to turn it on. We just sat in stunned silence. I mean, it was just too much for my head full of weave to process.



I know that not everyone stays the same size forever. I am WELL aware of that fact. I also understand he has had some pretty hard times, some alcoholism, a couple baby mommas and a stint working in a tire shop. I will give him the tire thing, Suzy tells me that they are no bullshit and all she did was truck them from one end of the building to the other.



So now they are a band called Sureshot, which is okay with me I mean....I am a touch too old for boy bands (but for some reason not too old to crank dat soulja boy in a public place) but you know how I feel about reality TV. As long as it doesn't get in the way of Lobster Wars and Anchorwoman (how the fuck did this get cancelled so fast???) I will be okay. Besides there isnt shit on right now, all my shows are on hiatus, and I cant keep watching Ninja Warrior and old UFC matches, its giving me strange ideas and we all know I am not stable. I certainly hope that they can get Bryan to drop a few pounds. I mean I might still have a place in my tiny cold little heart for him.

In the words of Fresh from Crunk & Disorderly "Please put Bryan on the tippy top of your prayer list". We want you to know we do it All 4 Love Bryan.

My Best Friend's Wedding

This weekend, the beautiful Ms. Dia B. became a Mrs. I was so honored to be a part of her special day and to stand up for her as her bridesmaid. For anyone who doesn't know it, Dia is one of my very best girlfriends. Though we've only known each other for a few years, we became close like sisters almost immediately. Its funny, because I have always had people in my life that I considered to be friends, but not very many that I ever felt like I could trust. Dia is just good people. We have been inseparable for years now, and I would feel lost without her friendship.

The wedding was a fabulous event and Dia looked just like a princess. After me and her sisters quit cutting up in the foyer of the church, and we issued warnings to the youngest sister, we made the middle sister go pee for the 50-11th time (she is 4 months pregnant), Juan the matron of honor got her tissue game in check and Tremaine quit dancing, we all got it together and made it down the aisle. Now the youngest and the MOH will cry at the drop of a hat, so I knew they weren't going to make it. What I didn't know was that we would all wind up crying the moment they opened the doors for Dia's walk down the aisle. Seriously....I lost it. I couldn't hold it in because I knew that my best girlfriend was about to embark on a lifetime of joy with one of the greatest guys I have ever met.

EVERYTHING was perfect (well we had a slight hair snafu, but that's unimportant) and I mean everything. The makeup, the hair, the dress, the family, the bridal party, the flowers, the cake the music and even the fuzzy soft slippers you bought for each and every one of us so we didn't have to teeter around on our wedding shoes the whole reception. Dia was perfection, and I am not sure I have ever seen a more beautiful bride. Saturday we were all a family, everyone. Even the boyfriend said that he loved how everyone was so comfortable. You knew that they were there just for Dia and Captain.

So this is for my best friend Dia. I love you, and I am so unbelievably happy for you and Captain and the boys. If you ever need anything, whether its the shirt off my back or the last penny in my pocket, its forever yours to have. I will stand by you, and I will support you and I will always make sure you know that my family is your family. So when you run back your tape of the wedding and you see me crying in my tangerine dress, just know that those are tears of joy, and pride and happiness. Thank you both so much for choosing me to stand up for you, and I will continue to stand up for you and your family forever.

Congratulations Dia & Captain
Love Always,
Avin

You Talk Too Much, And You Never Shut Up

It always amazes me that people think you dont know what they say about you. Case in point, there are a few people that I am WELL aware talk enormous amounts of shit about me on a daily fucking basis. I am not surprized by it and hell they arent all that discrete, but the thing that always trips me out is who they choose to tell. Its funny because for every person that they believe that they are best buddies with, there is another one waiting to sell them down the river. Thats how it works. This is why you keep your head down, and your mouth shut and you dont get too friendly with people.

My mother taught me some very valuable lessons about life when I was very little. They were the same lessons her mother taught her. Perhaps not in the same way, but clearly the message is the same. Its like the paperbag at the grocery store. You dont get paper because its so much sturdier or easy to carry, you get it because its not seethrough, and people cant determine what you buy. That way they cant gossip about what your brand name groceries have to do with how much you make. I hope you dont think I am reaching here, cause I have heard pleanty of people gossip about how much someones shoes might cost or what they drive so dont think groceries arent applicable. Same goes for your personal business, hanging out with people who can effect your livelyhood and trusting strangers. Its stupid and it will always come back to bite you right square in the ass. Dont talk so loud, dont be stupid its easy.

Speaking of asses, I fell on mine Saturday, and I am in agony. Why does every one of my fall stories involve a cute pair of shoes? This particular pair of sandals had super slick bottoms and I didnt realize that low traction on high pyle equals a mid-air free fall. I actually hit the ground running. There was just no way for me to sit or stand or be still after a crash like that. I banged up my ankle, my elbow and managed to hurt my neck in addition to the massive damage I did to my posterior. I have been living off of Aleve for days now, and the bruise just keeps getting bigger. I am just happy I didnt really hurt myself, then I would really be accused of moving too fucking slow. I figure as long as I havent really harmed myself then life will continue as usual. This does put a major kink in my workout regiment. I was getting sort of used to going to the gym 3 times a week, but I dont really think my Latin Fusion class is going to be fun running around shaking a broken ass cheek.

Well my son returns Saturday, and if you know anything about his yearly trip to the sticks, you know that he will probably come back a whole lot thinner. He says that he hasnt been allowed to do much of anything this year. No movies, no pool, and his dad is never home. He is particularly pissed about missing Transformers. I asked him if his hillbilly daddy wanted to see it, but he informed me that his dad is wayyyy too busy working. I started to say that I didnt know carnies and grifters worked that much, but I guess summer is the busy season. I didnt, come on I am mean but I am not heartless...most of the time. I wouldnt say that to the kid, even if I was thinking it.

Oh did I mention that my ex-husband has decided to switch careers? My son tells me he is now running around the country playing "Dog The Bounty Hunter". This of course has me tickled in ways you cant even imagine. This will provide comic fodder for years and years to come, much like his former job as a mall security guard. I couldnt even wait to tell my best friend Suzanne about it. She actually couldnt stop laughing for a solid 10 minutes but before we could even get it together we were telling jokes. Who the hell would hire a former convict as a bail bondsman? He is probably splitting the take with the felons. I mean really, someone explain it to me.

Well, let me go ice my left ass cheek and cut my eyes at some people who deserve it.

Like The Desert's Missed The Rain......

Yes I have been missing. Yes I have an actual explanation but really no one wants to hear it. Basically, I find myself in a bit of a pickle. I have plenty to say but I wont or cant, or both I mean really if you are not going to write it then why go into the reasons.

I am being vague, I know but some of you already know my reasons and perhaps someday soon I will get back to doing what I love here. I just cant see filling my blog full of what I classify as worthless bullshit that doesn't pertain to my life just for the sake of writing.

Sadly, its effected my other blog too. More than anything I am busy and NOT in a good way, so once again I have put off the things I really love (i.e. writing and talking about beauty) to do a rack of shit I fucking hate and that is probably an understatement. I am POSITIVE I will have to hear some shit about that crack too, but take a damn number cause you'll just have to get in line to crawl the fuck up my ass. The line starts back down the block, hope you have a shitload of time to wait.

Other than that, everyone is good. The boy is fine, the boyfriend is fine, my family is great and my friends are happy I love them all.

I hope y'all are good too. I miss you guys truly.

Wipe Me Down

So I have been at the gym religiously (serious pilgrimage type stuff here) for a few months now, and on Monday nights they have a class that I had been dying to try. Of course I knew no one in the class, and that made me nervous. I would just look through the glass longingly at everyone having such a great time and think “I would love to do that…let me get my ass on the treadmill”.
So last week I ran into a friend from high school at the gym, and it turns out she had just finished taking the class I so desperately wanted to join, Latin Fusion. She told me what a great work out it was, and how I should try it with her one day. Well one day was last night and can I tell you that I am sorry I waited this long to get in on it. This is a no bullshit class. We are talking a solid hour of nothing but high intensity cardio masquerading as Latin dance. It was fun, it was difficult, it was painful, it was the best total body workout I have had in years.

The instructor is a lot of fun, and she really gets into the program with us, and everyone is just trying to keep up. I was covered in sweat after the second song, and I looked at my friend Erica and said “What the hell did I sign on for?” The hour flew though, and that hour was more like an hour and 15 min. I gotta admit that if it weren’t for my thighs threatening to give out, I would have kept going. I think you burn somewhere in the neighborhood of 600 calories in that class. She had great music choices and we never stopped moving.

On another note, it so weird that I am running into all these folks from high school again. People I haven’t seen or heard from in years. Folks who I basically forgot existed. Its so strange. I am not opposed to seeing folk from the past, frankly for some of them there are 14 + years that have gone by since we’ve seen each other, so its like getting to know people all over again. We spent a whole extra hour outside the gym chatting and catching up after the class. Life is really good like that sometimes.

So if you don’t know, my best friend Dia is getting married in August, and have a size 12 bridesmaid dress to get my fat ass into. I have designs on dropping at very least 20lbs before then. I have been on No White Stuff for a week and a half now but I went to the damn doctor today and they put my ass on the scale which was a total blower. I know I am smaller than that damn it! Anyway, if their scale is correct I have more like 25 lbs to lose, but between the intense work outs and the carb restrictions, I think I should make my goal by the end of July. Wish me luck folks!

Its Audition Time People

So somehow I managed to miss the whole first hour of SYTYCD auditions! I don't know what the hell I was doing really. Anyway, the chicanery has already begun! Benji's damn sister has entered the competition. What did I say last week??? NO RINGERS and I already smell a fix! Not only that, but that fucking munchkin Shane Sparks is back with his bullshit You Got Served With The Lollipop Guild choreography bullshit. Then I see Wade Robeson's ass which I guess means he doesn't care that they stole this entire idea from him when he created the Wade Robeson Project back in 2003 on MTV but hey who is counting.

Let me tell you, the auditions are pretty wack too, and of course you would expect that to happen, its auditions. You get 30,000 fucked up auditions and like 20 good ones. Some of the folks are just fuckin crazy. Question, where do all these damn itty bitty shorts come from? Are they draws? Are they spandex? I mean seriously where do they come from? Furthermore, those shorts aren't made for minorities. I always see them on little girls with no booty, but never anyone ethnic. Ethnic peoples have ass parts, and more ass parts as they get closer to 30, so those shorts wherever they originate from, are beyond my comprehension. Seriously someone, tell me about the shorts though, cause I don't fuckin get it.

Remember it comes on Wednesday...and would someone please remind my ass cause I cant remember shit.

Mexico Don't Want It With Oprah

Trust me when I say it. If you missed it, last night during the Miss Universe Pageant, live from Mexico, the contestant representing the USA Rachel Smith, fell during the evening gown portion of the show. She was already in the top ten and they were narrowing it down to 5. When they finally cut the last 5 girls, Ms. Mexico was amongst the cut and Ms. USA was in the final 5. That's when the block got hot and shit started getting thick.

Suddenly the audience starts booing Ms. USA during her final question. I am not talking about a few hecklers, I am talking full on boos and hisses and shit. I half expected some "1996 Source Awards" shit to occur. Even the hosts were looking mad uncomfortable. I gotta hand it to Rachel though, homegirl was poised and unshaken by the rude ass boos. That being said, she came in 4th runner up and Ms. Japan won the crown.

Though news outlets are trying to pretend like the booing was about Mexico's disagreement with the immigration situation and American policy, I really don't think its that damn deep. If you are on your home turf and you are ignorant as fuck, and they don't pick your representative over the chick that fell, then your ghetto ass boos. Its that simple, its like the kid who didn't win prisoner ball and now wants to take his ball home.

What Mexico failed to realize in their rush to boo Rachel Smith was that she is a close, personal friend and former intern of non other than Oprah "The Winfrey". Oprah is more powerful than Zeus and richer than god, and she has the contacts, the media access and the strength to wake up on a Monday, and sell a country Tuesday, trust and believe. Mexico doesn't want it with Oprah. Rachel Smith went to the South African Girl's School with Oprah and a cast of other celebrities last year so its not like they just know each other in passing Not only that, but maybe no one else is privy to the info but my guess is OW isn't going to take kindly to them booing a black woman on International TV, one that she personally knows and supports.

Sure she might not do anything. She might not even say anything, but don't you wonder if last night while laying in bed with Steadman, watching that shit go down she didn't lower her reading glasses and give Steadman the side-eye and say "Meet me at the border...its going down" ala Young Joc? Shit, there are a whole lot of folks that I don't particularly think its a safe bet to fuck with, but on the top of my list is OW. She looks like she would shank and shush a motherfucker in a heartbeat. Don't be surprised if that border fence is built within the week, you know she could get buck and have Steadman, Dr. Oz, Gayle, Rachel Ray, Bob Greene, out there kickin Mexicans back over the border while Nate Berkus builds the fence out of bamboo and gingham print.

I am just saying it could happen, Mexico if you see Oprah chillin in her beamer, listenin to Ether....you might wanna make for the hills.

Pop, Lock and Drop It..Almost

Just when I thought I might die of reality TV boredom, one of my favorite shows is finally coming back on. If you hung out round here last year you already know that I am prone to re-capping So You Think You Can Dance or SYTYCD (hey I ain't typing all that crap every time).

Don't get me wrong I watch other reality shows, its not an exclusive relationship me and the bad dancers. I love them, they love me, but really I gotta be able to watch other stuff. Charm School, I Love NY, Celebrity Fit Club, American Idol, Dancing With The Stars, The Ultimate Fighter, Deadliest Catch, Next Top Model, Pussycat Dolls, Coyote Ugly....so on and so forth I watch it all but I LOVE me some bad dancing.

If its remotely as entertaining as last season I will be pleased as punch but I don't want any ringers! No more baby boy of the king of east coast swing and his damn cousin. That shit is a fix if you ask me. No more vane egotistical shirtless boys from Slavic nations either, and I like shirtless boys! What I do hope for is more twirling boys and fast stepping girls who do big things to popular music that I couldn't with two pints of Ciara, a dash of Chris Brown and two fifths of the Godfather of Soul. You know you love it.

Oh and I might also recap the highly unpopular (but not nearly as unpopular as The Ultimate Fighter) amongst my readers Rescue Me. Was that a collective groan? Yeah well go tell it on the mountain or something, cause that show is damn good, and you don't know what you are missing. The magic that is Dennis Leary just cant be beat, its better than a T-Pain remix.....okay maybe not that good, but I guarantee you would enjoy it if you just gave it a chance.

So that's what is in store for you, and a lot of other really weird post about shit that just doesn't matter all that much.

Later

Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day Folks, hope you had a good one.

I know some of the stuff I say here makes it seem like I am not the most sunshiny kind of gal, but on the real, I am happy. Yeah I have my complaints, some of which I talk about, others I just keep to my damn self but personally, when I am not putting up with other folks antics and bullshit I like who I am inside. I don't have any problems with the person Ive become and I don't have any need to apologize for being exactly who I am.

I used to think I had to explain everything I did to every person who just didn't get it, but you know what I really don't. I used to think that I always had to be careful of what I said and did for fear I wouldn't be well received or heaven forbid my ideas may offend others. I don't run around aiming to offend but if you don't like what I have to say that's really okay.

I am probably just happy because I bought a really great dress this weekend. I don't have a clue where I am going to wear this thing, I mean it isn't the type of dress you can just roll out of bed and put on. I wouldn't dare wear it to the office cause its just too fancy for all that. I had an opportunity this weekend to wear it, but I am glad I didn't waste my fancy dress on a snore of a Mother's Day brunch.

Which reminds me I need to go more places that require me to wear clothing that I like, instead of the crap I normally wear. I have really great clothes...most of them on the cusp of being too damn small but none the less they are really great looking. I don't know if I discussed the 300+ pairs of shoes I own, but the summer shoes are by far my favorite. Of course I bought more this weekend, but how do I appropriately wear my new dress if I don't possess the proper footwear?

Mother's Day has been pretty decent so I guess I am feeling pretty good. I am sure someone will waste no time shitting on my good disposition tomorrow well before 9am. For now though, I am happy.

You Can Stand Under My Umbrella ella-ella-eh-eh-eh....

I know I have been gone since before the beginning of time, but Ive been busy. Not just sorta busy but extra busy on a level previously unmatched. I have a ton of observations so I will try to cram it in quick, I know yall got a short attention span and I do tend to go on and on. Come sit a spell.

First lets discuss Amy Winehouse and the amazing concert I attended with my friend Tia this weekend. Not only was the ride and the company and the picking through tons of vinyl really a great time, but the concert (despite the lack of seating) was great too. I had an absolute ball, and Amy was not too drunk or belligerent. My real fear was that she would go on some sort of bender and not make it to the show, but she was great and there were no issues.

Next up, I quit the whole UFC Ultimate Fighter thing...I told you I might. Its just too much for me. The boyfriend is watching it, but frankly I have other shit to do.

Ive been going to the gym religiously since March but I really haven't done much talking about it here. Its like every time I start obsessing about my weight I take two steps backwards. I am not on No White Stuff, but I assume I might get there once my best friend's wedding gets closer. I am down 10 lbs, but you know me, results are never enough.

Speaking of the damn gym, they had a fire alarm yesterday and put us ALL out of the damn facility. I was lucky that it wasn't too cold and that I had just changed, so I had all my pertinent shit with me. I don't leave shit behind to burn up. That's crazy, I may not own a whole lot, but the shit I do have I don't need flame broiled. They let us back in, but I mean damn I don't like having to delay my run for 20 min. I mean I dont like running to start but I did just build up to a solid 15 min, so its important that I stay on track.

I also tried to cut back on watching so much reality TV recently. It seems to be working, either that or all the shows are off right now. I am down to Celeb Fit Club and Charm School. I am sorta following Dancing W/The Stars and Idol, but not really. Most of my TV time is devoted to Ugly Betty, Grey's and Lost. Lets talk about Grey now shall we?

I am starting to be REAL upset with that show. I don't appreciate this "relationship" they pulled out of their asses for George and Izzy. I am mostly having a problem with it because Sara Ramirez is getting shitted on. Shouldn't Izzy be somewhere still crying over Denny? I would be. Why the hell does she want to be with George and why is George such a douche that he would want her? Fuck it, I mean its not about the actors, its about the damn writers and Shonda I need you to get a grip on your people.

I cant think of anything else right now but you get where I am coming from. I promise more later, oh and remind me to tell you all about my "mild" night out on the town.

Saturday Ramblings

So I was all set to review the new season of The Ultimate Fighter, but in all honesty, I don't know that I will even watch it. I wrote a review of last week, which was hella juvenile but I never posted it. It was neither comical, nor exciting. Its was a chore even watching last week's episode and this week was almost worse and if you saw it, you know exactly what I am talking about. If I watch and it gets better I will let you know, but if not the next UFC review you get from me will be of an actual match and not this bullshit.

Ive had a lot of personal drama occurring in my household recently, and all of it stems from an unexpected illness and hospital stay. My dad has been in for a week now with pneumonia and a stomach virus of some sort. Basically, I have spent the last week trying to hold down the fort and keep my son on task. My mother is a totally different story. She is just running herself ragged back and forth to the hospital to make sure dad is okay. I don't even get myself involved in that. Part of me thinks she thrives on it and the other part thinks she doesn't know what else to do. I don't try to understand her cause her logic is so twisted most times.

That brings me to the Virginia Tech shootings. My mother, of course has some feelings about it and if you've ever read anything about her on here you know she has some sort of obsession with outcasts, loners, misunderstood or abused children and the like. So of course, she latches on to the fact that the kid was a loner, and basically I am fearing that we are about to have a new screaming match because anything like that ties directly back to my son for some reason, and then she will have to reiterate how she thinks he is being treated poorly and will turn into one of these children. No proof or evidence to suggest that type of scenario mind you. Just her, feeling that her grandson is weak, mentally challenged, incapable and pathetic yet again. I didn't get involved with it this morning. I just walked away and let it ride. I cant fight the good fight every day, and I wont entertain this nonsense, the kid who killed the students at VA Tech has serious mental health issues and that doesn't have shit to do with her grandson.

It finally got warm this weekend and I am glad to see it happen, but I guess that feeling isn't shared across the board. "The boyfriend" hates the damn outdoors. He hates sunshine and people and life in general I think unless it involves being downstairs in his basement watching TV. Okay, possibly I am being unfair, but every time I want to enjoy a little sunshine or just generally have a nice day outside of the house, I get major static. He is sitting here, right now as I type, watching a movie he has probably seen 50 times, just so he doesn't have to be outdoors, or involved with anything remotely fun. Why sit in the house all day is what I am saying? I blame myself really, I asked him to come down, and I should have just let his ass stay home like he wanted.

Happy Saturday folks.

Inked Till The End

Have I mentioned my love of tattoos? I probably have, I mean it is a huge part of who I am. I don't know how I could have left that part out. Seriously, though I dislike getting them, but I really love the end result. I don't have one tattoo that I don't adore. I couldn't possibly get a tattoo that I didn't feel I would love 40 or 50 years from now. Each is special and unique and perfect for me.

I do have one that needs a ton of work. It was the first one I got when I was 20 and it has not weathered the years very well. Its the only one that has any color, and to be honest it was a pretty poor piece of flash out of a book on a trip to Dallas, Georgia. I got sick, immediately. I have serious anxiety issues and what I didn't know about getting tattoos is that sometimes your body will take over and anxiety will drop you like a stone.

I thought it was just hypoglycemia, but really it was anxiety, so I waited another 4 years to get another. That of course went just like the first, except it was bigger and more involved and it took so.fucking.long. Seriously it took forever, and I talked the entire time, loud and annoying and what I assume to be fast. So here I am sweating, and sick, and talking a mile a minute. I must have been a pain in the ass.

I think it was 4 or 5 years ago when a friend decided he was getting these tattoos he had been yammering about for years. Okay that's probably not fair, but seriously I had heard about these damn tattoos for nigh on 10 years and I was glad to see him get on with the get on. I came to provide moral support, but trust and believe he didn't need it. See there are a couple types of tattoo people. There are folks like me that hate everything about the experience except the tattoo covered dudes who work in the shop and the end result, and then there are folks who actually enjoy the tattoo process.

My buddy got two gi-normous tattoos across his upper arms/biceps that took at least 3 hours a piece. He did them both in one sitting, with a one hour break in between. He never even flinched and frankly I was both shocked, amazed and horrified (both is two yes I am aware) that for such a skinny guy he could sit and take all that buzzing and digging and I couldn't even get one without trying to regurgitate.

His behavior convinced me I could actually get another tattoo. So I loaded up on all sorts of soda and candy and food, convincing myself it was a hypoglycemic attack I was attempting to stop. I sat down and 3 minutes in, I got sick again. Sheesh you would think I could learn, but no I just had to keep pushing it. That one hurt too, it was in the worst possible place and it felt like someone was digging into my spine with a hot knife. Why couldn't I be calm like that guy getting the huge Koi tattoo on his back as he snored. Re-fuckin-diculous!

The thing about tattoos is, if you get one its almost impossible to stop. Something about getting ink is so addictive. It becomes something you need to do, not so much want to do. For me its being able to have something so completely different and special that no one really knows about. Sure people who know me, know how much I love them, and know that I have them. I don't tell other people, cause there is a whole lot of non-judgemental judging that goes on when you tell someone you have even one.

If they have some preconceived notions about them, suddenly it becomes one of those things where they have to pretend to be cool with it. Or they have to try hard not ask you insulting questions about it. Its a big mess really, and I have yet to hear anyone formulate a good enough answer other than "I wanted to" and you know that never clears up a damn thing to the un-inked.

The other thing about tattoos (I am ashamed to admit) is that I love tattooed men. A man almost always gets extra points if I think he is attractive and then I find out he has tattoos. I love tattoo artists, I love tattoo apprentices, I just love tattoo culture. Sheesh its hard to explain but I just had this discussion with a friend of mine and she agreed 100%.

I guess I am lucky, I don't catch any heat for my ink, my mother thinks the tattoos I have are beautiful and secretly wishes she were brave enough to get her own 15 year old butterfly re-touched. My son loves them and plans for the day when he can get his own, my boyfriend is covered in them, and my closest friends have them and find them as wonderful as I do. Yes, I am very lucky indeed. My inner circle finds no fault with my choices, and I love them for that.

So I find myself healing new ink. It is by all accounts the most intricate and beautiful piece I have. Its also the one I am most proud of, because not only does it mean so much to me personally, but its the very first tattoo I've gotten where I didn't get sick. I cant stop looking at it and its inspired several people to go back and work on their own canvas. Its a work in progress and the first tattoo that I am not sure will ever truly be complete. I have plans for it, and its not even a full week old.

Can I say that I am finished? Hell no, I will keep getting tattoos for as long as I have enough skin and hiding places. The day it bores me, the day it becomes an afterthought and not a way to beautify my personal canvas, the day I cant wear a tank top and shorts without folks having a complete tizzy, then I will stop. Not that I would ever wear shorts, come on people I am crazy not stupid. I love what I have done to my body, and with every new piece I feel a little more settled.

Jesus Take the Wheel! UFC Edition

My beloved Georges St. Pierre has lost the UFC Welterweight title! All is lost and I fear I may never be right again. Okay I know that was dramatic but seriously GSP is the man, and how he managed to lose is just incomprehensible! I never thought I would say it but “I am not impressed with your performance” GSP. You let me down homie. Will I ever be able to chant along with the TV audience “GSP, GSP?”

I knew that shit wasn’t going to be an easy fight. Matt Serra is the beast and he proved it on last seasons The Ultimate Fighter: The Comeback. I was seriously rooting for him and you know what? He delivered. He never once disappointed me. He has a killer game on the ground, and he is probably as good inside the octagon as he is a coach. Seriously Matt worked his ass of, which is why GSP should have been on his game. He knew what he was up against. I mean sure Serra is no Hughes, but shit I could be totally wrong about that shit too. Looks like Serra’s first defense of the title is with non other than that cocky fuck Matt Hughes. There is already some simmering bad blood between them after Hughes visited the house during TUF4.

Seriously thought GSP, why? Just why? I was never as happy as I was the day you worked Hughes over took the title away. I could see it in your face man, you wanted that title and you were going to get it by any means. This shit is just perplexing, and frankly with a body like that, I should be able to see you kickin ass, holding the title belt over your head for years to come. Fuck I am getting depressed again, let me move on.

Speaking of bad blood, apparently there is or was a fight between Tito and Dana White??? This I have to see. I have long held that something was not quite “managerial” about Dana White’s physique. He doesn’t look to me like he spends all day signing checks and contracts (thought I know he does) just sitting on his ass bullshitting. Naahh, that man works out, and hardcore. Apparently, I am right because I found out recently he is a former boxer. This thing is supposed to be to settle some differences he and Tito have or had in the past, and its purely for shits and grins. Its not a PPV bout, its not a UFC:50-11, is just a plain old match between the two, where I pray Tito doesn’t pound the shit out of Dana so badly he cant go back to signing checks. Oh and Tito, please for the love of god can you get your girlfriend a damn sandwich??? She looks crazy these days and a whole lot like MumRaah. Its not a good look, so toss her a protein bar and one of them damn EAS shakes. Hurry, the gossip bloggers are having a fuckin field day.

So I realized this weekend that I had missed the first episode of The Ultimate Fighter 5. I did however check out the website and let me tell you I am not impressed. Where did they gets these dudes? There is not a Mike Bisping, a Ed Herman or a Kendall Grove amongst them IMO. The previews look like some drama time bullshit too. They are up in the house bumping chests and measuring dicks already. I mean, a little bit of drama is necessary to the show, like when Shoney Carter was throwing those damn water bottles in the pool and be-dazzling all his damn clothes, or when Chris Leben pissed on Jason Thacker’s bed in Season 1. All that shit is super important to how much the fighter wants to tear someone’s head off in the octagon. All I am saying is these dudes look like straight bitches, and someone better step up fast or I will be pissed off.

It's Spring Again

Spring here in the DC Area can mean a lot of things. First and foremost it means that the weather will be hella unpredictable. I never understand why folks get so excited and confused by temporary breaks in the weather. Its Spring people, not summer. Put your damn clothes back on. We had one 80 degree day and suddenly the population loses its mind and starts breaking out the flip flops and shorts. Oh and let me not even get started on the open toe shoes. It was March, and it had snowed just the week before, but I guess that one day was enough to make everyone kirk out and think it was Summer.

I bet it wasn't summer a day later when it was 40 damn degrees and no one had a coat or even sleeves. I bet it wasn't open toe shoe weather when that driving rain was coming down and it was 35 that evening huh? I say it every year but I am going to make it known here that March does not equal Spring in Washington DC. If you got cold, soaked, or were generally caught off guard in your summer clothes then it serves you right. Put some damn clothes on and act like you have an ounce of sense already.

This weekend we went down to the Tidal Basin to see the Cherry Blossoms, which was very nice. Of course there were some fools down there in their shorts and fuckin flip flops freezing their fool asses off. It was 6am, it was 40 degrees and I had on a damn coat and some clothes cause my momma taught me common sense as a itty bitty child. Here are some of the pictures we took.

So to address "Spring" let me start with this. When digging through your clothes from the previous year. Try them on first I beg you. Do not keep or put on anything that is going to leave you looking like an exploded can of biscuits. If there is any doubt in your mind whether it looks crazy or not, ASK someone. Do not hop on the Red line and spend half the ride tugging at your pants. Do not show the office the upper portion of your breasts in a top made to fit your son. Do not wear your "club gear" to the damn office. Its super unprofessional and just tacky as fuck. A good way to check and see if its appropriate is to ask yourself if you have ever "gotten low" in any portion of this outfit. If so, its a poor choice.

Please fix your damn toes before you go running out in open toe shoes. NOT that I condone their use until after tax day, but if you must be that bold and retarded go get a pedicure. Above all else, dress appropriately for the office weather. Unless you work for the park service you will not be outdoors. The office will be air conditioned, and probably cold, so tank tops, pedal pushers and thong sandals are also a poor choice. I don't even know why I bother, cause the promise of warm weather does bring out the bammas.

In addition, I need to address this recent resurgence of "Passing". Passing, if you are unaware is something ethnic peoples did in order to gain entry into white society. The would "pretend" to be white in order to reap certain benefits. Now I know some of this still goes on in the black community, but what I didn't realize was how prevalent it is in the Hispanic and Latino communities. I am well aware that their are some folks who would rather be ANYTHING but ethnic, but it doesn't make it right. What you do is deny yourself the opportunity to learn and embrace your own heritage.

Trust and believe that most folks will know that you aren't white, and all the wishing and the praying in the world wont make you become white either. I just cant figure out how someone would so deeply hate their own race that they would pretend not to be it at all. I find it sad, and I also find it embarrassing but I guess if your intent is to assimilate and become more than what you think your race can be, then you don't care how it looks.

Its crazy to me because I remember growing up and having people assume my mother was white, and it used to make me so angry I would want to fight. Not because it wasn't feasible for my mother to be white, I am pretty damn light, but because I was proud to be black, and happy with my blackness and I didn't feel any different than any of the darker kids in my school. Back then, it was an insult and the folks who said it, used it as such.

My son, (though half white) is a black man. He isn't a mulatto man, he isn't a biracial man, he is black. There is no confusion in our household about that. He needs to be aware that no matter how light he is, and no matter who his father is, no one is going to look at him and mistake him for a Caucasian. If he gets into trouble, he will be treated like a black man. If he goes for an interview, they will see a black man, and when he gets a job he will have to work twice as hard just like he does in school just to be on the same playing field.

He absolutely will be subjected to racism, the black tax and stereotyping. He is and will be treated differently all of his life, and no one is gonna stop to ask what color his dad is. These (though I am quite sure some folks wont believe it) are the cold hard facts and frankly if I don't prepare him for that, then I have failed at my job as his mother.

I would love to see a day when folks aren't ashamed of their heritage. I would love to see a day when people aren't afraid to check the box they belong in. My guess is though if this is still happening today, its not going to change in my lifetime and that is a sad realization.

Criminal Minded

I have a strange hobby, and its probably not nearly as strange as I think. I like googling old boyfriends just to see what the hell I come up with. I never had a hit until recently which shocked me to shit of course. I dated quite a few guys in my life who just swore that with time and opportunity they were going to become "Big Shit" but so far I havent seen any of that happen. Guess we cant all be famous, but for those of you still waiting to make it big I wager you'll never do it like this. I ladies and gents can officially say that I dated a Federal Inmate. Something about that just cracks me up.

I dated inmate number 7779311 [1] back before I figured out that not everyone in life was on the up and up. I was 15 and he was 23 and I met him on my way back from the grocery store. It was summer, I was irritated with my little high school boyfriend and I was walking, he was driving and frankly that should have told me something right there. Silly me, I was in my rebellious stage and the idea of a 23 year old boyfriend sounded like the perfect bad girl thing to do.

Of course that decision was all sorts of wrong. I never bothered to ask what the hell a grown ass man would want with a 15 year old, or why he seemed to always have other peoples car titles. I didnt ask questions about the several different vehicles he would show up in, or how none of his stories seemed to make any sense. Partly because I liked bad boys and mean men, partly because I really didnt care all that much and I was still in school. It totally wasnt a serious relationship, it was just me, classic Avin, acting out.

Shortly before summer ended I got back with my high school boyfriend, and just stopped calling him. He went back to whatever rock he crawled out from under and that was pretty much that. I always wondered about him though, he had a very unique name and an even more unique story. His bayou upbringing and his funky bullshit stories always made me wonder what the hell was really going on with him. It was another life ago, and honestly I knew he was some type of criminal, but whether he was a petty dealer or an actual felon I never figured out...till today.

I had just got off the phone with a friend from his home state, and she was telling a story about another criminal she knew when she was a young girl. Come on ladies we all have the "I once dated a bad boy" story so lets not pretend that we didnt m'kay? Her story totally reminded me that I had my own convict story. So I got to picking around online and googled his name and there he was in all his glory.

The charges? Identity theft of 3 seperates professional atheletes and credit card fraud. Apparantly he has been at this since at least 1995, and to make matters worse, the cops knew who he was and had been after him for years. I'll hip you to a passage from one of the news reports:

The Feds think "Jailbird" found out they were on to him. Police staked him out and spent a day casing "Jailbird's" assumed hideout, but they think he got the heads up and bounced. Police indicated that "Jailbird" had a set of brass ones, and called 5.0 talkin about "You aint fresh as I'm I'z, ya'll got 2 months to get your shit together...good luck". Repeated attempts to catch his triflin ass went awry.[2]

It was by luck that they apprehended his ass in the first place. I think there was some sort of registration problem with the car, and the girl who was driving took off and led them on a police chase. When they finally pulled them over, she had no clue what his name was other than the the middle name he had given, and he had all three ID's on him with his face in place of the celebrities.

Funny stuff if you ask me, cause my first thought was that he looks nothing like those guys. AT ALL, and not only that the guys dont look alike. I wonder who was falling for this con? Anyway, it looks like he is doing a 9 year bid in the Federal Pen and frankly I find it funny. No I dont find identity theft funny, but I do find stupid criminals to be hillarious. Remember I have to get my dose of ignorance from somewhere and "I Love NY" is just about over so sue me. [3]

[1] My favorite song from "The Time" and I love a good music reference.
[2] Sorry, yall know I cant type what was really said, even though I pretty much translated the article verbatim , my version was a shitload more entertaining anyway.

[3] I know what you are thinking, that chick is really crazy well you would be right but dont judge me the bible says not to.

Amy, Amy, Amy

I have officially declared March Amy Winehouse Month here at Avin’s Day. Its been a tumultuous two weeks full of ups, downs, and liquor so its fitting that I would choose her to represent this month. For anyone who has ever had a broken heart, or some shit to say or just made one two many mistakes this CD isn’t just pretty music, its an anthem.

For those who don’t know, Amy Winehouse is only the most fabulous soul singer to cross the pond (sorry Corinne, you’ll always be my homegirl) in quite some time. Her songs drip with emotion and sorrow, yet you find yourself singing with your heart full and light. It’s the most bizarre thing. Think Sarah Vaughn crammed into the teeny tiny little body of a big haired, makeup laden Jewish Brit.

I’ve only been waiting for this album for a year. It was released in the U.K. to serious critical acclaim and has only picked up steam since. This week is her long awaited US debut, and I just cant get enough. The girl is phenomenal, but of course as with anyone who is able to completely display their emotions in artistic release, the lady has a few issues. The largest of which being her love for the sauce, which makes her unpredictable and dangerous to both herself and a few unlucky others.

You get the feeling that she has this small window where her star will burn white hot and bright but will fade quickly if she isn’t able to get a handle on the drink. It’s the soundtrack of her life and its messy and complicated, but that’s what makes it beautiful. Its layered, its heavy and its thought provoking and downright as blunt as it gets. Its as smoky as any blues bar and so personal it reads like a diary. Its just Amy, and its worth the money, so pick it up.

Now You Know...

Today I asked old dude who sits in the office next to mine if he had some sort of single mother issue. This is twice I count that he has said something extra stereotypical in that regard and frankly I figured that if I didn’t say something soon the ignorance would continue. Not one to really hold my tongue, but certainly not one to stir the pot, I made up my mind after being angry about his comment on Friday to point blank ask him if it was his belief that black women with children were all unwed.

Now I know what your thinking, “There goes Avin again jumping to conclusions”. Quite the opposite actually. When it occurred Friday I had sort of made up my mind to just chalk it up to life in field, however after I finished telling the story to my mother, “the boyfriend” and a few of my homegirls, they all said the same thing: “I would have cussed him out”. I didn’t think cussing anyone out was appropriate, but I did think that it warranted a discussion. So I approached him and asked if that’s where his head was at. I wasn’t nasty, I wasn’t rude I was just direct.

I think he was stunned, and not so much because it wasn’t true, but probably because he assumed that I just wouldn’t ask him something like that. Too bad. There are things you say in a work environment and there are things you don’t. Asking me if “my baby’s father is still in the picture” is one of them. The other? Asking if the pregnant girl I just mentioned is married. Neither have a damn thing to do with the industry I am in, and neither pass for polite get-to-know-you conversation. I am not altogether sure which question reeks more of sheltered socio-economic snobbery and borderline racism but make no mistake they are wholly inappropriate.

So basically his response was “I’m not that way”, and though I wanted to enquire exactly what way he meant, I think the pale shaken and stuttering way that he responded was enough. I wanted to ask him why he didn’t enquire about my ex-husband or the sex of the child or its due date instead of going directly to the questions he asked however it wasn’t important. I also wanted to bring up the fact that he always says “Now you have two kids right?” but that would just be splitting hairs. The fact of the matter is I already know why he asked what he asked there is no need for him to deny or qualify it. For some people its simple math Black woman + Child = No Daddy. Which to some may mean all sorts of other things like welfare, uneducated, societal drain, crime and poverty but lets just stick to what I asked about.

I am still sort of waiting for him to dust off the two stock responses I am used to hearing which are “I don’t see color” and “Some of my best friends are black”. Sure neither have anything to do with thinking that all black women get knocked by random MIA dudes, but it doesn’t seem to matter really when reaching for the “I’m Not A Racist” defense. I don’t even know that he is racist, he most likely isn’t, but I do know that he hasn’t had much experience with black people in his life, which may be the reason for the funky inappropriate questions. I’ll never be quite sure whether he is completely oblivious to the obvious pitfalls of asking such questions, but I do know that if given the opportunity to ask a similar one in the near future, he may mull it over a moment or two.

Ehhh it is what it is but I am under no obligation to let such things slide or fester. If I need to know something I will just flat out ask, especially if I feel like you’ve made some sort of uninformed judgment about me or those deem to be like me. I would hate to walk around here thinking that folks judge me based on my professionalism and hard work when it may really be about whether or not I was married when I gave birth. That’s something you just cant assume you gotta ask and part of being Avin is being okay with who I am every day. Its asking the tough questions, or maybe being the unpopular kid and certainly its about not being afraid to stand up for myself. So if I make folks tummy’s feel funny along the way then so be it, but like G.I. Joe said, “Knowing is half the battle”.

1/3rd Life Crisis

I must be having some sort of rebellious episode. If you know me personally you know that I am calmer and more settled than I have ever been in my life these days. I am reasonable, and I don’t usually rush to flip out. These things my friends are new things. New things that the old Avin was not aware existed. Not flipping out is new, compromise is new and not threatening to fight, kill, break bones or burn down things is a HUGE step for me. I have just been calm and it’s been good. It’s something I have gained a lot of pleasure from and I think I have grown leaps and bounds personally.

I say all this to preface my coming statement about rebellion. Folks, I am stifled and I am bored and I want to scream and act a pure fool. I don’t want to wear my hair reasonably, nor do I want to smile and make nice. I want another tattoo, I want to listen to Cypress Hill and La Coka Nostra on 10. I want to watch UFC while putting down a six pack of Miller Lite (bottle please no cans and dont think of offering me a damn glass or a straw) while wearing baggy jeans and timbs. I want my old damn life back and I dont want it to dry up and blow away like its doing. I am mad that I am not louder or faster, or wittier or meaner or just plain more me every damn day that I get a chance. I hate hair dye and concealer and advil after a work out. I want my damn cigarettes back, I don’t want to stop at two drinks and I don’t wanna have to put on moisturizer every damn day of my life. I am turning 31, and I am pissed off. I am becoming my damn mother and it sucks ass. This reasonable reliable Avin that crept in and took over my world is just maddening, and I think I am going on strike.

Maybe it’s a 1/3 life crisis because that would make sense to me. I am at the oldest of my friends but no where near the sanest. Or maybe just maybe I’ve been too reasonable, too sensible, too fucking likable and happy for my own good and I am realizing that perhaps it doesn’t quite fit. It’s like a pair of really cute sensible shoes that cut across the instep and its slowly working on my sanity. So I am on strike against 31, and being a damn sensible doormat. I'll be at the tattoo place if anyone needs me.

Its Hoodtacular!

My good friend The DJ's Wife posted a quote from Jason Whitlock on the foolishness that is All Star Weekend. See if you agree: "All-Star Weekend can no longer remain the Woodstock for parolees, wannabe rap artists and baby's mamas on tax-refund vacations." I agree with her when she says "Because as long as you have celebrities, athletes and anyone else with money in one place, your going to attract two things: groupies and stick-up boys. And they both have the same mission: to get in them pockets."

By the way my extra ghetto god-sister went this year and frankly when I heard I was no where in the vicinity of shocked. This type of "Gangsta Boo Where Them Dollas At" mentality is right up her alley (and our mothers wonder why we arent better friends) so I am with Mr. Whitlock on that tax-refund vacation situation.

It reminds me of the time my cousin (who frankly is no less ghetto) asked me to go down to the beach with her and our sons. I knew it was a weekend in Myrtle Beach, but what I didnt know was that it was Black Bike Week. I spent the week fending off jackasses trying to touch and video tape me, ignoring cat calls and being real pissed off about wearing a bikini. It was the ghetto at its finest with my 8 year old son watching. I know you are thinking, damn she has a fucked up family and you would be correct. Anyway, there are a few places you arent going to catch me, and All Star Weekend is one of them.