THE WEEK THAT WAS… II
What the hell happened to January? Yet another week passes. It started with The BET Celebration of Gospel with my newest Girl I Like, Joia. She’s the co-host of my show, Remixed. I suppose I should say our show. Joia, or “Big Sexy” as I like to call her, is trouble. When I met her I was in the midst of a detox. Hey I had a new show starting. The camera adds 10 lbs. Across your ass. Joia was like “That’s not gonna work” and promptly fed me. She was leaving food in my trailer! The same thing happened @ Celebration of Gospel. I was 6 days into the master cleanse and 10 lbs. lighter and J (like the bad angel on my shoulder) says, “Where we going next?” I have no resolve. It was either alcohol or food. The last time I took Joia to a gay bar, she completely upstaged me. This time we opted for Bob’s Big Boy. If you are going to diet or detox or fast you must go away. You cannot be around friends. I think for Valentine’s Day my new “whatever he is becoming” and I should go to La Costa Resort and Spa. If we can survive multiple colonics and raw food, we can survive anything.
Valentines Day is upon us. I hate V Day. It’s like NYE to me. Amateur night. Don’t prove you
love me with roses and chocolates. I should get those randomly yet often anyway. And I certainly get them from rappers on the DL. Chocolates and roses are pedestrian. No, if you wanna do something for me just show up naked. And let’s have third-time-doing-it sex. I have this theory about the third time you have sex with someone. It’s when you really pull-out all the stops. The 1st time you may be drunk. Or trying too hard. So it’s foreign. The second time you are competing to see if you can do it better than the 1st. The 3rd time is when you just fucking fuck. And these are each separate times. Not the third time you do it in one night! I have actually broken up with 2 boys on Valentines day. For me it’s crazier than Xmas. Couples have to be careful around holidays because if someone wants out they will dump you before a holiday. I mean who wants to buy a Christmas present if you don’t have to? Back on point; I was seeing someone once, a very long time ago. He made an huge deal out of V Day which I hate. Strike one. He sent flowers to my work. A huge arrangement. Ghetto in it’s fabness. Everyone was bowled over. You would have thought I was a prize racehorse standing @ the finish line with that huge horseshoe of flowers around my neck. I loved that so negative 1 strike. He was still in the game. The straw that broke this thoroughbreds back however was he got tickets. “Tickets!” “I love Tickets!” says Cameron Diaz in Charlie’s Angels in response to Luke Wilson. Now he got Cameron cool tix. To Soul Train. My then beau got me tickets to see the Blue Man Group. You know that horrid threesome dipped in blue who play the drums with light sabers? The only thing worse is Cirque De Sol-Hell Naw. I hate clowns, puppets, mannequins, cat clocks w/the moving eyes, clowns, harlequin masks, clowns and blue people. Oooh and I hate a contortionist! Ugh! Hate is too strong. Those things scare me. Creep me out. I broke up with him. I had the nerve to say, “Don’t you know me at all?” He was better off. I once had a fight with a beau on Valentines Day because the gift he got me sucked. I had a pair of old school trainers that he loved. And everyone else loved. Every time I wore them peeps were like, “Where did you get your trainers?” I’d say “They’re vintage.” Which is fashion-speak for “Hell no I’m not telling you where I got these!” Well anyway my then beau loved them. So I did the research (what size shoe he wore, address to his office) mobilized my force (sent my assistant to Rogers Park) and got him the shoe. I then spent $50 bucks FedExing them to him. You see I was observant. I knew what he wanted. Now what I wanted was the Helmut Lang denim jacket with the too long sleeve that you cuffed. We spent an hour and a half in the Soho Helmut Lang boutique with me trying it on. I couldn’t justify spending $325 on a jean jacket. My then beau said “Just get you want it and V Day is coming so I’ll get it for you.” In one of the few times I’ve not been a gold digger I said no. Not because I didn’t want the jacket. But I wanted him to make it more special! You can’t just peel off a couple hundo and say “Here go buy yourself something pretty.” That makes a boy feel like a tart. Not that I’m not but @ that moment I didn’t wanna be. So here I am checking the mail room for days expecting the Helmut Lang jacket because he knew I wanted it. What I got was a cake. A vacuum sealed chocolate cake sent from someplace in Atlanta. I was pissed. I mean the damn thing was good but c’mon…A cake? What did that cost you? And no, it’s not about money it’s about you and your girlfriends (who are boys) sitting around and them asking what you got for V Day and you say, “A cake” and they are like, “A cake?” and you are like, “A cake” and they are like, “Like Little Debbie’s” and you are like, “Well more than that and it’s the thought that counts and our relationship isn’t about the bling”…and the moral of this story is if someone wants to buy you something expensive, right then and there, take it. And get the receipt. A boy has got to be practical. I hate Valentines Day. And it’s not a real holiday. Banks are open and you don’t get the day off.
