My Bucket List

I saw a great movie recently entitled the Bucket List starring Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson. It was about two elderly gentlemen diagnosed with terminal cancer who were hospital roommates. They bonded over sick nights and chemotherapy sessions which left them relying on one another for strength and support. Upon completion of chemotherapy they decided to revert to an old bucket list. The bucket list is a list of things they wanted to do before they “kicked the bucket”. With one having the money and the other having the vision, these two hilariously funny gentlemen succeeded in plucking off items on their bucket list one by one.

How inspiring! I think we all should have a bucket list even if we don’t have a terminal diagnoses. We tend to assume that we will be here tomorrow or next week or next year for that matter. You can live to be 80 years old and never have as full a life as someone who died at 35. Instead of spending our time wishing we could have accomplished something, we should spend our time thinking, “Why haven’t I done this yet?”. We need to get things going. Life is not promised but death most certainly is and it can come like a thief in Nordstrom after hours!

I have a bucket list. I’m going to make it a point to finish over half of these things before I kick the bucket, or like my granny would say “head on over to boot hill”. I’m going to spend less time worrying about why something hasn’t happened and more time making things happen!

So here goes nothing!

I want to go on the Oprah show and ask her for her shoes at the end.

I want to swim with Dolphins

I want to have cucumber sandwiches and white wine spritzers with Marc Jacobs.

I want to visit La Louvre. (google it!)

I want to direct a movie, or at least let someone let me think I’m really directing just amuse me! (and not a porno you perverts)

I want to attend a Cowboys game in Dallas TX with my face painted gray and blue.

I want to go to a Prince concert.

I want to go on a week long vacation alone.

I want to buy a really expensive and completely non-functional purse and not feel guilty about it.

I want to drive on the Autobahn.


Please share your list of things to do before you head to the upper room…and keep it funky!

Hennessey, Drop Top BMWs, and Heavy Flirtation: Happy Birthday T-Diddy.

I’m sure most of you have read about Tab aka T-Diddy. So can you imagine how things would pan out when it’s actually HER BIRTHDAY? Yes we did the “thang” this weekend. It went something like this:

The Pre-Game Warm-up:

We started off in my house with a bottle of the ROCK (if you don’t know, it’s the Henny!) and a bottle of Milagro. No we did not drink all of both bottles, and I promised to drive that night. But I watched with glee as my friends became more and more glassy eyed. It’s always a good idea to get dressed and put on makeup before you begin partaking in libations, I learned that lesson the hard way but that is another story.

The Golden Girls Arrive at Mayorga:



We chose Mayorga (www.mayorgafridays.com) as the party spot because we can never be let down. I felt myself challenged trying to get 3 tipsy yet beautiful ladies down the long hill from the parking deck and down the street to the club. I felt like a teacher trying to get students in line for lunch. They were taking pictures, stopping and talking to each other and I was ready to start the party!

After they introduced themselves individually and held mini conversations with every member of Dream Team, we made it in. Just about all of the folks who RSVP’d for the night were there I guess you can’t beat free before 11! In the midst of all the chaos I forgot the flowers were in my trunk. Cue the Drop Top BMW 

Ra and the Drop:


Rashad loves me, we go back to Pre-IDC Republic Gardens and Fish Frys in my old Cypress Creek Apartment back in 2001! I know he didn’t want me walking all the way up that hill to the parking lot to and from alone to get some flowers. So we took a spin in this it was a 2008 BWI 650i Drop Top Coupe. I tried to act like I sit in 100,000 dollar cars all the time, so I kept my shock to a minimum and flipped my hair. Don’t worry I didn’t touch a thing! I mean my night could have very well ended there…a good looking man in a bad ass foreign car eat your heart out ninjas! *watching over my back*

Heavy Flirtation:



Hello my name is BagLady and I am a relentless Flirt. I wasn’t alone that night. There was a lot of hands touching hips and butts and thighs and biceps that night. I have a business card in my purse from some guy that is a physical trainer. I have some great photos of MsNikki and TM getting down with the fellas and if you pay me I will let them go  You have to watch out with flirtation though, because everyone doesn’t see it as innocent you dig? You might have some guys emailing you the next day talking about “you told me you loved me” or something. You may have promised to cook Sunday dinner for some guy just because he smelled good and you had one too many shots! I will say that I have never flirted with an ugly guy so I do have some sense about me.

T-Diddy Greets the Masses:



I have never seen someone so happy in all my days. T-Diddy smiled the entire night. She greeted every person that came to party with her as if she hadn’t seen them in 10 years. If you have never been hugged by her you got one that night, she almost took my title as reigning HugStress. I had to pull her away from the security guy down stairs as she was telling him how our friendship developed, that’s called drunken admiration. Haha. I don’t know if my Island Twin has marks left around her neck or not. Her coworkers, college friends and line sisters all came to shout her out that night and it would have made me smile all night as well. There’s nothing like celebrating your birthday with those that have been there and mean something.

The Bar Tab:

“We were popping Champagne like we won a championship game”. Yeah but unfortunately I ain't got it like that and I put myself in a spot where I have to wait a little longer to get that new purse! And I can’t even blame that on T-Diddy because apparently I was buying lost of drinks that night. It’s like when Rev Run told his daughter Angela that she spends money like she is him. It’s all good though and I didn’t buy drinks for strangers. Someone warned one of the girls that I bought a drink or two for not to drink with me before she came to the club. That in itself made me want to buy her the biggest bottle there. How dare there be a Surgeon’s General Warning on me!


Lights out, Parties over:



I stayed to the let out to make sure I was good enough to not kill my friends on the way home. T-Diddy was already gone and in good hands. My feet were killing me from the too cute to party shoes I had on. The music stopped and the lights came on to reveal the night of the living dead. That hill seemed higher and longer. There was no drop top BMW waiting for me this time. I began to get several texts from the partygoers letting me know they were home safely and that they had a blast. As I got myself ready for bed I thought about how late it was and how early I had to get up for the pool party the next day.



The Pool Party:

Trying to get yourself together to cook and prepare for a pool party after a night of dancing and drinking is the worst. We pulled it off but with lots of help. Drinking does something to your brain that causes you to forget a lot of little things like butter, extra barbecues sauce and oh let’s see A GRILL. We did it, it turned out great and there is enough food left to do it all over again. If it wasn’t for T-Diddy’s sister and boyfriend, as well as Ally, MsNikki and Shawn I would have been a lost soul! And it was hot. Like Swamp Heat! The only thing you could really do is swim or sit by the pool very still.

The After Party:

The weekend was over, but it was still rather early and plenty of food and spirits left. The girls decided to make a night of it and have some fun playing games. T-Diddy had gone on a romantic excursion. The stragglers and I ate and finished off every bottle of liquor in my stash. We started out playing Scene It. We ended up playing a drinking game in which anyone who laughed first at In Living Color had to drink. I was the first one to lose and not on purpose. But that damn Damon Wayans is a fool. We also had buzz words; if you say the word you have to drink. The words were DALLAS and WOW. A lot of folks started losing. In Living Color got so funny that we ended the game before we all ended up with kidney failure.

All in all everyone had a great time this weekend and more importantly T-Diddy. I’m tired though. “Dog Tired” like dude on Green Mile. I’m also tired of eating so somebody come get this food!

We love you T-Diddy!




BagLady the Party Planner :)



P.S. I didn’t get to Cupid Shuffle at all this weekend! *arms folded*

Customer Service is Dead *UPDATE*

I don’t even know where to begin. I was so traumatized by today’s events that I had to share them even though in no way possible can I relate this to the world of the hand bag. Today my twin from another island and I made a last minute decision to hit up the local Outback. The decision was made mostly because boys are dumb but that is another story. So we threw on some sweats and met up for some good old Kookaburra wings.

First off that tried to sit us next to a half table with some little kids but I fixed that real fast. Finally we were seated in a decent area of the restaurant. After about 15 minutes, long enough for us to decide completely what we wanted, our waitress came over. She was a medium sized black girl with a curly weave and a very pretty face. She was also clearly a former resident of St Elizabeth’s (DC people know what I mean). After she says hello and I say hello back, she says “I was about to be mean to you”. I gave her the “people’s eyebrow” like huh?
She begins to tell me how I look like this “girl she can’t stand”. I’m sure my face was contorted because Island Twin’s eyes got big. So then she got really comfortable with me. Home girl sat down next to me like she was my first cousin. I’m sure the look on my face was priceless. She said “oh am I invading your privacy, I like to treat my customers like family”. I told her "NO" but that this was all very weird to me. Island twin was doing all she could to avoid looking at me as she texted away. So she then begins to tell me that she isn’t trying to push up on me so I shouldn’t feel uncomfortable and she has two kids. Young…por favor.

We made 3 attempts to order our food as she interjected with how I looked so much like this girl she disliked. We finally got a word in edgewise and were able to order. In the meantime we watched as she sat down in booths next to unsuspecting customers forcing her unconventional table waiting methods on them. People have a thing with personal space and privacy and shouldn’t have to answer questions like “so why are you at Outback at 9:00 at night” from their waitress!
We realized that our complimentary bread hadn’t come out. Island girl asked about it and she stated “oh it aint ready”. Oh okay. Thanks. Finally our appetizers came out; too bad we could only look at it because we didn’t have plates or silverware. When we made our waitress aware of this she replied “Damn they aint give yall no forks or nothing?”

Finally we were able to eat. I peered at the table but didn’t see the baked potato or broccoli that I ordered. Maybe it “wasn’t ready yet”. I don’t know if it was fortunate or unfortunate but our happy go inappropriate waitress rarely came back to check on us. We didn’t get one refill on our drinks. I didn’t get a chance to check on our missing items. I’m assuming that my face and body language made her feel intimidated and she realized that her waitressing style was less than appropriate in my eyes. Oh well I was wrong. Just when I thought we had escaped the madness she comes up from behind me and says, in a loud and obnoxious voice, “Wooooooowww yall demolished those appetizers”. I looked at her like she had 4 heads. Now I see why Island twin kept telling me it was the Lord’s Day because that was the only thing that kept my head from spinning. I loved that I didn’t have to say a word. Her tone changed and got real humble. She asked if we needed anything else and I told her just the check. Young..por favor.

It took about 20 minutes for us to get our check straight. Of course the missing potato and broccoli never surfaced but somehow appeared on the check. Oh for real? So you mean to tell me that you are going to be a relaxed, inappropriate, overly friendly and inefficient all at once? When I told her that the check needed to be corrected because the additional items never came out, she said, “Oh you don’t want them no more”. This broad…

See I’m all for a friendly server, but there are boundaries that must be respected. Most people don’t want a stranger sitting next to them, much less one that isn’t supposed to be. I don’t want your first words to me to be that I look like someone you can’t stand, hey don’t play with me like that. No seriously. I’m sorry that it took her so long to detect my tone even after I told her this was very weird to me, but she definitely knew that I wasn’t pleased when she saw that empty space where a tip should have been.
I was so angry I think I should the whole restaurant bouncing my leg up and down. She avoided eye contact with me the rest of the night. When Island twin and I left, she was sitting in a booth chilling with another server. It must have been a great night for her. Now let me see if I can tie this into purses….umm I should have smacked her with one.

Disgruntled Bag Lady *rolling eyes*



*UPDATE*

Island girl wrote one HELL of a letter to Outback and sent it Via email. I just got off the phone with the manager who apologized profusely and promised to send us two certificates. He also assured *ding* us that the "waitress" has been taken care of. CONSUMERS RULE!!!

The New "It" Bags courtesy of Forbes.com

Marni Fold-Over Frame Tote
$1,485


Marc Jacobs Robert Bag On Bag
$2,100


Gucci Queen Medium Hobo
$1,650


YSL Majorelle
$1,895


Kooba Lola Tote
$645


Kate Spade Orchard Street Rae Tote
$625


Roger Vivier Belle
$956


Richard Prince for Louis Vuitton Motarde Frame Bags
$4080


Hermes Kelly Bag
$5000 and up


Carlos Falchi Matte Python Clutch
$2,710


Forbes, IMO picked the ugliest bags from M Jacobs and Louis V and seriously who the hell buys Kate Spade anymore, I quit that bitch way back when I found out she was related to that feathered bang fool David Spade! The rest I'll leave up to you to decide whether they're "it" enough for your standards. I am in love with the Falchi clutch tho, very ferosh!

Improper Valet Procedures Indirectly Impacts Future Purse Purchases

*disclaimer* Extreme Pettiness Beyond This Point

You have read the disclaimer and been warned. If you are a person who works full, part time or on the side as a valet attendant please give input as it is strongly appreciated for the purpose of justifying the pettiness of this blog entry.

Saturday night the ladies and I did it up for *insert party name*. We went back and forth about going to this spot all week and were very glad the decision was made in *insert party name* favor. I will go over details of the beginning of the night and the end of the night as the middle has nothing to do with valet, clearly. Upon arriving at aforenotmentioned spot, we attempted to look for parking for about 2 minutes. As females wearing 3 inch heels, walking 18 blocks after a night of dancing is not what’s hot in the street at all. How cute can you be limping with a balled up face? Anyway, we chose to valet.

I guess I should have felt privileged that about 4 valet attendants bum rushed my carriage at one time. This was new to me and I felt overwhelmed so I started hiding and locking stuff in my car, you know blackberry car chargers are priceless! I was greeted by the warm and friendly sounds of “Yo yo ladies wassup yall trying to valet?” Oh okay. So we asked how much it was and he said “$20 for ladies $40 for the fellas”. I must have stated that over again in my head like “when did Valet start having flex rates”? This is strange.

Fast forward to 2:15 am. After 5 shots of tequila, 1 golden margarita, 2 shots of Ciroc and 1 bottle of water, I came outside to get my car and take the ladies home. I couldn’t find the valet guy. No, I couldn’t find the whole valet crew. I looked at my ticket to make sure it was legit because I immediately flashed back to the “yo baby yo” greeting and thought I’d been jacked. I walked around a few minutes and then the attitude kicked in. I walked back up to the front and asked where valet was. A nice strapping muscle bound man wearing a badge lead me over to the group of men standing halfway down the block congregating, who were in fact the valet crew. He gave them my ticket. While I waited in true “BAG LADY” form I vented. You see the people who threw the aforenotmentioned party are friends of mine outside the club scene. I do care about them and the business they do and if I feel that something will cause a decline in attendance at their events I’m going to say something. So I spoke to the gentleman about how unprofessional it was to address people in that manner when you are doing a service. I also told him that this is a nice party people spend a lot of money getting ready for it, getting in, and spending money inside and everything about the scene should be on point. I also told him how distasteful it was to charge $40 for valet for men and women $20 when men spend more money getting in and getting themselves and US drunk. He said that men will spend the money either way and I asked him who does his marketing analysis *flips hair*. If you spend $40 in valet, $40-$60 to get in, that’s $100 before the first Lil Wayne remix comes on. That means that that guy and the four ladies around him will be a lot more sober than if he had an extra $40 to burn. I mean what if the parking garages started doing that it would be mayhem! So we ended the conversation with a handshake and I assured him I wouldn’t let this rest.

Now let me tell you how this indirectly affects the purse game. Somebody’s man spent $40 to park his car that night. Now suppose he was going to buy his girl/wife/jump off/ a bag but that $40 made him think harder about how he spends his money. He began to think about how expensive it is just to be a man in America. He felt that it’s not his fault that he is a man and spends more money taking care of the household, buying meals, paying for vacations, tipping the Chinese delivery man etc. He thought about all the times when the check came and the waiter gave him the bill and the lady was re-applying lip gloss. (Telling on myself.) He thought about the cologne, socks, polo shirts, underwear and other reasonably priced items he got for his birthday and Christmas while he bought jewelry, purses, shoes, iPods, GPS systems etc. He thought about the heat on the back of his neck when he had to leave work to go and change a flat tire because she left her AAA card at home. (Again telling on myself).

This guy has had enough. He cut up his credit card, changed the pin # to his bankcard, and decided to go on a strict budget. There was no ringing of a cash register that next day after he paid $40 to valet park his car because he was a man. He and she had soup for dinner instead of Outback.

And there you have how Valet indirectly impacted a future purse purchase.

Bag Lady, attorney at law *snicker*

I had the PURSE Nightmare last night....

Someone hold me....

I was sitting in what appeared to be the lobby of a huge club. I was dressed in all black, which is typically how a roll. I was holding a purse but I couldn’t tell what kind it was. I do know that it had feathers on it. I’m assuming that is a combination of things I saw on the SATC movie; you know Carrie had a damned bird on her head. Anyway, a couple walked past me. The woman was a tall slim blonde with a big red flower in her hair, looking fresh off of Dancing with the Stars. The gentleman was a tall brown skinned man with salt and pepper gray hair. They looked sort of mix matched yet equally yoked in the height and build department. When he walked past me he said, “Do you like her purse”. She replied that it was okay. He then goes on to say “I’ll buy you one like that except it will be real”.

*Insert VERY long pause*.

So all of a sudden there was a gay Latino man next to me who popped up saying “I know you not going to let them talk about your purse like that”. So I rolled my eyes and leaned forward and said “Umm excuse me this purse is REAL…” *flips hair*. The gentleman looked at the lady and she said. “Where did you get it from?”

*Insert another VERY long pause*

I had no idea where I had purchased this feathery disaster. Right there with the blonde, the brownie and the Latino I sat there with the inability to properly formulate a complete and concise response and I am a speech-language pathologist damnit! After the uncomfortable silence I said, “It was a gift”. (Um whatever anyone who would buy me that is not a friend). So the couple laughed at me and the Latino guy looked disappointed. The blonde said, “Your bag doesn’t have the PPO tags on it”.

Readers, I have no idea what a PPO tag is but when I looked down at my bag it had a lot of price tags on it. Now you know that is a big no no with purses.

How many of you have gone to a store and had to dig down in the pockets of a bag to get the price tag? If the price tag is hanging on the bag with plastic well…you know. I remember looking at all the LVs on EBay and noticing price tags hanging on them. I actually got one, clearly before I was as well versed as I am. I showed it to DenyseG and she stamped it RETURN TO SENDER and saved my purse life. That was the start of a beautiful friendship!

Anyway, that was my nightmare; a bad purse (bad meaning bad not bad meaning good!), a snooty blonde with a red flower in her hair, a slim brownie and a gay Latino fan. I woke up and wanted to run through a brick wall at full speed. It must have been the tequila and jerk chicken wings last night. I would have rather dreamed that George Bush was re-elected for an unprecedented 3rd term. YOUCH!

The Natural Purse...some of us were born with it.

I remember way before I was so fly and fabulous, a purse was the last thing I wanted to carry. My mother had a huge monstrosity probably from JC Penney's that was filled with just about everything but the kitchen sink. I would think twice about asking for something that I knew I would have to send Indian Jones into that purse to retrieve it.

If it wasn't in her purse you can rest assured she would pull it out of the purse she was born with. Yes, the space between your boobs and your bra is also for all intents and purposes (Not INTENSIVE PURPOSES) a purse.


I hated it. Lunch money, gum, Tylenol, chap stick, a band aid, stamps, post it notes or a map leading to the Holy Grail she had it in her "purse". I thought it was the worst. I was always so embarrassed especially as I'm trying to get out of the car for school and she reaches down in her bra for my lunch money. It wasn't so bad after I saw other mothers doing the same thing with horrified children looking on.

Well, the thing that most children dread about their parents is being like them. Yes I do utilize my natural purse, much to the terror of those subject to knowing where I keep my single key, money left over when I don't have pockets in my scrubs, lip gloss and whatever else I can fit in there without giving the appearance of a bag of acorns. The natural purse comes in handy when you don't want to carry a pure into the club or you have no pockets. Guys don't mind your natural purse at all and they will have you holding things for them, if you're lucky its their credit card. A sportsbra is like carrying around a hobo bag!

I'm going to be buying my braziers in a cup size larger so I can fit cool things down there for easy access. Watch out for the summer though, because your things can get "moist" down there. YUCK. I just grossed myself out. Let me go to bed.

*taking off purse*

Goodnight...

BodyByVictoriaBagLady *snicker*

Thirty is the new 30

Thirty is the New 30


Well ladies and gentlemen, I did it. I crossed over from my twenties to my thirties with blazing glory. Most of the people in my circle know I’ve been planning my 30th birthday celebration for the past 3 months. With the help of some great promoter friends (Thanks MITCH and MIKE), my beautiful crew and countless others I was able to have one of the best parties I’ve had or have gone to in years.

Thursday


The celebration started off at PURE Nite club on U Street. Two of my friends from Undergrad at Clark Atlanta University, Angel and Robyn, flew in for the weekend, and of course the infamous Tab was there! We had an entire section to ourselves compliments of Mike Walker and WeRunDc.com. It was so great in there that night because of the live go go band that put a go go twist to old and new songs. You know how they do ;) The crew was small that night with a group of 4 females and one guy but we made enough noise to sound like a high school marching band.


I literally crossed over to 30 pouring a shot of Cuervo down my throat. We danced, Angel walked it out, we people watched, I talked to a dude in a full length skirt while my crew sang “you are the last dragon” in the back ground. Walking back to the car I broke out into a private birthday dance while Robyn posed for the camera on a bike parked outside ….ha!
I’ll let her tell her own story in a comment on how she felt the next day.

Friday



I was so lucky to get an invite to have lunch with Robyn and her uncle at The Towers, a country club located in Tyson’s corner. This is the type of spot you go to and you have to act like you have been somewhere before. You have to know which fork to use with which food group. White table cloth and napkins, perfect décor (Glad I wore my LV bag), and a great view.

After regrouping we got showered and dressed for the birthday dinner at Fogo De Chao. The place was packed with late prom goers and families celebrating graduations. After the order of service was explained, green for more red for stop, we found ourselves in marinated meat heaven. Beef, pork, chicken, lamb you name it they had it. A few people always had their cards on green but I won’t say any names in order to protect the innocent and glutinous. I tried to taste as much as I could but my stomach was telling me that the pot was full. I still just want one more piece of rib eye steak! My stick partner Danielle handled this event for me and worked out the bill so perfectly that we all gave her a round of applause. I’m so glad that went well because I hate large party dinners and you know why! People tend to forget what they ordered and that tax and gratuity exist in this country. We all met back up at my house for some of Tab’s homemade Sangria, and of course…SHOTS!!!!

Saturday

This was the busiest day yet. Unfortunately Robyn had to go back to the airport so we got her there safely. Then it was time for 10 ladies to band together to see Sex and the City. What a great movie and the fashion was top notch all the way. The only thing I didn’t like was the fact that Jennifer Hudson’s character got her bags on Bag, Borrow or Steal. I could have thrown popcorn at the screen yuck! Samantha had the illest purse game in my opinion particularly the white quilted Chanel tote! *drooling* After a movie like that it’s only right to go to the mall and that’s what we did. I didn’t buy a bag this time but I damn sure molested one or two!

While getting dressed for the big party we experienced a pretty rough but brief thunderstorm. It was 100 degrees that day and a storm is inevitable. It would have had to be a tsunami to stop us from partying. After some minor glitches in the matrix, I found myself walking up onto the third floor at Café Asia being greeted by warm smiles from familiar faces, beautiful decorations and flashing lights. The section given to me was so perfect; we had our own bar and plenty of room. It was as if I had a private club upstairs. We were entertained by Nikki G (Beyonce’s drummer) and another marching band. I know it sounds weird for the club but trust me it was and sounded great. A party isn’t a party if DJ Alizay isn’t spinning and spin he did and dance we did. Well at least the pictures say I danced. I had a beautiful cake made for me and designed by a good friend of mine and I’m getting so many requests for a slice days later!

I don’t remember too much of the night after about 1 a.m. but here are some of the things that I heard about myself:

I heard that I tried to cut the middle of my beautiful Damier Speedy cake.
I heard that I am a hugging drunk.
I heard that I am capable of cussing and being unruly. (Sorry Charlie)
I heard that I can cut and serve cake very well after several patron shots.
I heard I take flirting to a whole new level.
I apparently tell blatant lies.
I heard that I am an excellent negotiator.

Overall what a party. WHAT A PARTY. I couldn’t have asked for anything more. Folks made huge sacrifices to spend those 1-3 days with me. Flying in from out of town, driving up and down, spending money hanging out with me, the gentlemen making sure all the ladies were safe after the club, the gifts, and the hugs the love. I couldn’t have asked for more. Sunday morning I cried happy tears. I couldn’t believe how many people showed up to support me. I even had a friend limp her way into the club with me ace bandage and all. Folks that I only knew from a few emails and a message board showed up to show see me into my thirties. I felt and feel great. I don’t like that I don’t remember so much about the night but hey what can you do; not remembering means I did something right! I’ve said it before but I just can’t thank people enough for the cards, the gifts, the champagne, the quality time and just a great overall weekend. This will be one of the moments in time that I will think back to when I hit those low moments. I have over 200 pictures that will remind me I am loved.

Because of all the gaps in my memory, I’m relying on all of those who were there and have their own memories to fill up the comment section with just that! I’m sure we have some good stories to share (and some not so good maybe?) If one of the stories involves me and nudity let’s leave that out :)

Goodnight….

Mic Check 1-2, 1-2

I had to do something to keep the fellas that read this blog interested. Most of the people close to me know that I am very eclectic when it comes to music. I like a little bit of everything. My current favorite XM channel is 94 Caliente!!! I’m into Hip-Hop but I’m not a huge purchaser of it. Sure I’ll party to it but buying it you have to stick out to me. I really like rappers who are wordsmiths…masters of word manipulation with wit, humor, sarcasm and great figurative language. Few MC’s have been awarded the honor of me paying $12.99; those few include Nas, Jay Z, Biggie, T.I., Common, Talib Kweli and Most Def (FYI I want money back for that Black Jack Johnson crap). The others who I refer to as rappers are okay and I’ll party.

An MC according to me is someone who holds your attention, makes you process the lyrics; someone who may have you hitting rewind because you can’t believe how ill those lyrics were just now and if you were younger you probably want to write them down! Now if you notice my list of favorites is basically from the last 10-12 years. I’ll be 30 in a few days so you know I can take you back further than that. See, I told you all of the things that I expect and MC to be, but what I didn’t mention is that MC means Move the Crowd. That brings me to the topic of this blog. An Ode to Rakim.

Rakim aka Rakim Allah aka The God MC aka The G.O.A.T. is ultimately and without question my favorite MC. One of the first rap videos I remember seeing was for “I Ain’t No Joke”. I know all of the words front and back. As I got older I could actually appreciate a lot of what he was saying. No talk of bling, pushing kilos, iced out grills, fully loaded Maybachs, and pouring out expensive champagne on cheap women. Rakim’s purpose was to remind anyone that doubted why he is better than you. I live for stuff like that. I love when folks can say they are better and have all the ammunition to prove it. Who honestly can’t say he wasn’t. Rakim was ahead of his time. He didn’t need a catchy hook or chorus. Just bars and bars of pure lyrical madness . My Melody is arguably one of the greatest compositions of hip hop ever created. “I take 7 MC's put em in a line; And add 7 more brothas who think they can rhyme; Well, it'll take 7 more before I go for mine; And that's 21 MC's ate up at the same time” WHAAATTTTTT. How can you come back from that? You can’t so just have a seat.

I’ll probably never get a chance to meet Rakim. If I did I’d probably be too afraid to talk to him. I mean dude doesn’t smile and I’ve never heard him talk much outside of vicious lyrics. So I had an idea. What if I could interview the God MC? Well I don’t know anyone that knows him. I don’t know anyone that knows someone that knows him. But, I went to undergrad at Clark Atlanta University where the motto was “FIND A WAY OR MAKE ONE”. So I made one. I came up with a few important questions that I would like to ask Rakim, and I interviewed him in the quiet comfortable confines of my mind using lyrics from My Melody. Here’s how it went.

BL29: Hi Mr. Rakim thanks for taking the time to speak with me. If you don’t mind me asking what is your real name so that I may address you properly?

RTG: My name is Rakim Allah, and R and A stands for Raswitch it around, it still comes out R

BL: Umm oh okay, so I’ll call you R? Great. Well sir you are my #1 favorite MC. I’ve even heard of others MCs who call you their favorite. The part I like about you best is your lyrics. You are a lyricist. I’ve heard of other rappers like Biggie and Jay Z not writing down their lyrics, how did you create you masterpiece?

RTG: As I memorize, advertise, like a poetKeep you goin' when I'm flowin', smooth enough, you know with the rough you know with the rough That’s why the moral of my story I tell will beNobody beats the R, check out my melody

BL: Needless to say we haven’t been graced by your presence in quite some time, how do you feel about yourself in comparison to other MC’s still in the game?

RTG: I'm number one; competition is noneI'm measured with the heat that's made by sun

BL: Well if I wasn’t a fan I’d say “says who?” what makes you stand out from the rest?

I'm not a regular competitor, first rhyme editorMelody arranger, poet, etceteraExtra event, the grand finale-like bonusI am the man they call the microphonist.

BL: Microphonist I like that. I should call my self a purseophonist!

RTG: *silence*

BL: Okay next question. There is so much talk of violence on wax these days. Everybody wants to shoot their rival MC off a stage and snatch his chain...ugh? Are you the gangster violent type?

RTG: Easy does it, do it easy, that's what I'm doin'No fessin', no messin' around, no chewin'No robbin', no buyin', bitin', why bother
BL: Yeah well folks don’t bother dudes that don’t smile too much anyway. So earlier I stated that an MC should move the crowd. A lot of them have such a horrible stage presences (Sorry Jay) but presentation is key in a live performance. So you think you were/can be able to maintain and audiences attention when they not only are listening to you but are watching your every move?

RTG: In a rhyme, why waste time on the microphone; I take this more serious than just a poemRockin party to party, backyard to yard; I tear it up, y'all, and bless the mic for the gods

BL: Well you got me convinced….

RTG: Wait, I’m not done. If I was water, I'd flow in the NileSo many rhymes you won't have time to go for yoursJust because of applause I have to pause

BL: WOW. Well hey just afford me the courtesy of front row seats and we are good. One last question. How do you feel about the Christian Dior Gaucho collection? I mean those bags are hot like fiyah but Jeez Louise the prices are astronomical!

RTG: The who?

BL: Gaucho.

RTG: And that is a what?

BL: A purse.

RTG: Did you just ask me if I liked a purse? I came to express the rap I manifest. Stand in my way and I'll veto, in other words, protest

BL: Sorry, remember you are in my head and I get easily distracted. Darn that eLuxury.

RTG: *straight face*

BL: My unusual style will confuse you a while

RTG: I said that, that’s my line.

BL: I think this is a good stopping point. Thanks for sitting down to chat and don’t step on anything valuable on your way out.

RTG: *Ice grill*

BL: *waving*

R.I.P. Yves Saint Laurent...Thank you for the MUSE

Today, the fashion industry took an upper right cut to the soul. Yves Saint Laurent, (born Yves Henri Donat Dave Mathieu-Saint-Laurent) passed away at the age of 71. I became familiar with Yves Saint Laurent first through sunglasses and then fell in love with his totes particularly the Muse. He worked for fellow French designer Christian Dior at the age of 17, and started his own line at the age of 22. Yves Saint Laurent was the first designed to you black models on the runway. He is accredited with pioneering such designs as the women's tuxedo style suit, safari jackets for men and women, tight pants and thigh high boots. (I guess we can thank Yves Saint Laurent for alot of the ghetto club pics huh?) R.I.P. Yves...you have left behind one hell of a legacy and some tough, expensive yet well made shoes to fill.

Muse Bag Lady

*SIDEBAR* I bet Andre Leon Talley went to the end of the first runway he could find and dropped off head first. I KNOW he is having a fit about Yves passing. Can you imagine a 6'4 300lbs black man from Durham NC with a British accent having a crying fit? Just move out of the way.