The 5s Have My Soul In A Sling

Remember THIS POST when I shared some traits people who favor the number five have? Well I found some more, thanks to Smarty Jones (that heffa!), via some site that is supposed to help you determine your Life Path number.

I hardly ever care for this new age-y stuff... OK, that's a lie. I put a lot of stock in these 'other-realmy' things. Can't help it; it's a by-product of my Caribbean/maybe-Yoruba heritage.

So this Life Path number is determined by adding the numbers in your complete birthday:

5+23+1975=2003

and then adding the numbers in the answer:

2+0+0+3= FIVE, DAMMIT!

And here's where I almost fainted, because look at what it means to have a Life Path number of FIVE, DAMMIT!:

The Life Path 5 suggests that you entered this plane with a highly progressive mindset, with the attitude and skills to make the world a better place. The key word for your Life Path is freedom. In the pursuit of freedom, you are naturally versatile, adventurous, and advanced in your thinking. You are one of those people who is always striving to find answers to the many questions that life poses. The byword for the positive Life Path 5 is constant change and improvement. You want to be totally unrestrained, as this is the number most often associated with the productive use of freedom.

You may be one of the most compassionate of people as the 5 is surely the most freedom-loving and compassionate Life Path. Your love of freedom extends to humanity at large, and concern for your fellow man, his freedom and his welfare, may be foremost in your mind. A great Life Path 5 American President, Abraham Lincoln, issued the Emancipation Proclamation, and ended slavery in America. As the ultimate progressive thinker type, your potential in government, the law, and other positions of authority is unlimited.

You are a good communicator, and you know how to motivate people around you. This may be your strongest and most valuable trait. Because of this skill, and your amazing wit, you are a truly natural born salesman. This ability to sell and motivate extends to any sort of physical product all the way through to whatever ideas or concepts you may embrace.

You abhor routine and boring work, and you are not very good at staying with everyday tasks that must be finished on time. On the average, the number 5 personality is rather happy-go-lucky; living for today, and not worrying too much about tomorrow. It is also important for you to find a job that provides thought-provoking tasks rather than routine and redundant responsibilities. You do best dealing with people, but the important thing is that you have the flexibility to express yourself at all times. You have an innate ability to think through complex matters and analyze them quickly, but then be off to something new.

A love of adventure may dominate your life. This may take the form of mental or physical manifestation, but in either case, you thrill to the chance for exploration and blazing new trails. Surely you belong to a group considered the most worldly and traveled. Clearly you are not one to pass up a good venture. You have quite a lot of the risk-taker in your makeup. If you aren't putting your money at stake, you are surely open to a wide variety of risks in your everyday life. Taking the conservative approach is just not in your nature.

In romance, you hate to be tied down and restricted. This doesn't necessarily mean that you are unfaithful or promiscuous, but it does mean that a good partner for you needs to understand your nature. A relationship based on jealousy and having tight reigns is not going to work at all for you. A partner who understands your need to be free and trusted will find you trustworthy, even if you aren't constantly available and totally dutiful. It is important for you to mix with people of a like mind, and to try to avoid those that are too serious and demanding.

If you are living on the negative side of the Life Path 5, you are apt to be multi talented, but suffering from some lack of direction, and there is confusion surrounding your ambition. Restless, discontent, and impulsive, you may bounce from one job to the next without accomplishing much at all. A negative Life Path 5 can become very irresponsible in tasks and decisions concerning the home and business life. The total pursuit of sensation and adventure can result in your becoming self-indulgent and totally unaware of the feelings of those around you.

*closes up shop and logs off life*

I don't like when the cosmos plays with my destiny...

*smooches...paying too-close attention to every minute detail of my life*
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and PS- I don't care for this mirror that's being held up to my face... SMARTY! HMPH!

The Jaded School Of Parenting: Teachable Moments

You've heard me use the phrase both on this site and on my radio show: teachable moments. It's a phrase I picked up during my brief stint at The Waco School for Girls and has stuck with me. It basically means seizing the opportunity to teach a kid a lesson at the moment it needs to be taught.

For example- you're watching a movie or TV show with your child, and on the screen is a misbehaving child. At that very moment- no matter how engrossed you are with the program- you turn to your child, point out the bad behavior, explain why it's bad, and let them know the consequences of them partaking of the naughtiness.

It's not really rocket science and can happen anywhere: at the market, on public transportation, at the playground (OOOH! Especially at the playground!) or in the mall. There is no shortage of bad ass kids in this world with which you can model behavioral (and parenting) expectations with your kids, just to let them know what isn't acceptable at home. I do it all the time and I know it's one of the reasons I haven't had any major issues with my daughters who, by nature, should be pulling the "I HATE YOU!" routine on me by now.

But they know better; Mommy don't play that shit, and they know this because I take advantage of 87% of the teachable moments that cross my path.

Just a little FYI and parenting tip from me to you. Pass it on to someone who needs it.

*smooches...playing the village for bad ass kids everywhere*
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I'm not trying to have my purse snatched by your ne'er-do-well rugrats

Hi, I’m Jaded, And I’m Really 41.8yrs Old!

That is, according to RealAge.com…those bastards!

On a whim I went on that blasted site and took their little survey, just out of curiosity. Little did I know I was about to get my feelings hurt. Now mind you, I don’t have a problem with aging. When people are rude enough to ask my age I always give it correctly and without hesitation: 35. I have gray hair I don’t really cover up and body-wise…ummm, let’s just say gravity and childbirth and French fries have had their way with me and call it a day!

But even though I know I don't really take care of myself as I should, I was surprised as all hell to find my "Real Age" was damn near 42! AAACK! That's older than my old ass ex-husband!

Look at what they claim is aging me:





Can you believe this hot ghetto madness? I swear this site must be maintained by the same "fine" people of WebMd, because all of a sudden I want to drink some Windex while watching every sad and depressing movie ever made!

I just... I just really can't go on anymore. I'm a fat, lazy, out of shape and nutrient deficient old lady. Just give me a pine box and call it a day.

*smooches...with three slices of pizza on my plate*
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this pity party was brought to you by RealAge.com, loneliness, boredom and, oh yeah, lack of vitamin E and folic acid...

Even Without A TV, I'm A Straight Up Junkie

Y'all already know I have "ways" of keeping up with all the new shows that come out each year, even though I don't have cable. And no, I don't feel bad about it so you can save any commentary eluding to my antics. Nobody over here, with the empty pockets, cares.

And because I watch TV, still, I'm able to keep up with pop culture despite The Man trying to... wait, that's a post for another day. This is about tonight's episode of Monday Musings-- The Good, The Bad, The 'More Colorful'. I'm giving you the inside scoop on the new and returning shows so you can maximize your pixelated existence. Ain't that nice of me?

::passes around collection bucket::




As always I got my girl Smarty Jones as second chair to my shenanigans, and if I can remind him in time I'll bring in Malik-16 in the mix, too (y'all remember, he was on the Oscar show and he and Smarty got into it LOL!!).

Look, even if you could care less about what bullshit the networks are shoving down our collective throats you should tune in. We're funny, we're crass, and we KNOW our TV shows!

Don't make me come get you in your sleep!

*smooches...so excited about my shows being back*
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especially my favorites from last year...and DEXTER!!!

Kenny Says It'll Be Alright

Friday is here, and after my first full week of working again I can honestly say, "Ahhhh, Weekend, you slimy whore! Where have you been all my life?" I love what I'm doing, honestly, but a sistah is TIRED!! I need sleep. And wings. And *BLEEP*

I guess I'm just looking forward to a weekend when I'm not freaking out about what didn't get paid or what food I will be able to afford this week or who's going to knock on my door looking for their money. Right when I was at my breaking point, finally, some hope.



And just in time for the new TV season, too! Have a fabulous weekend!!

*smooches...excited to be able to hold on to my apartment*
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I'm not a religious person, but I can appreciate divine intervention when I see it. I promise to lay off the Pope jokes until 2011!

So I'm Doing This Work Thing Again

At the 25th hour, right when I was going to have to swallow my pride and ask my mom if I could move in with her because my landlord was done being benevolent and understanding about the rent, I managed to snag a temporary gig that, depending on how long it lasts, will keep me afloat until at least Christmas. I hope.

And it's actually a writing/editing gig that so far I'm enjoying. My commute is super easy (it's right here in Brooklyn) and the people are nice and I'm surrounded by literature all day long- it couldn't be more perfect if John Cusack were in the next cubicle!

With this stay of execution, I'm really working hard to not make my usual money mistakes, which means I have to train myself to be miserly and act like every check is my last. Because let's face it- with a temporary gig that is truly possible. The client anticipates this need only to find, "...hmmm, we actually don't need an extra person for that long so thanks for playing and good luck with life."

Initially I was like "YES! Now I can meet my friends at Happy Hours and hang on the weekends and go to Boston..." but thankfully one of The Voices reigned me in and reminded me that this is a TEMPORARY job. So I'm still going to be turning down invites, etc, to things that will cost me money because regardless of the weekly paycheck I will now be getting, I have to hold on to the "I don't have the money to go out like that" mentality. My priority has to be my kids in this scenario. I've done a fair share of partying-- it won't kill me to sit this one out for a bit.

That said, I now find that I need more time in the day for all the Jaded Empire things I've been working on during my unemployment. Or a clone. Or a(n) slave intern. But how do I get one of those? I asked y'all about it once before and no one gave me any ideas or advice. Maybe you thought I was joking? Well, I'm serious: I NEED AN INTERN. How do I go about doing that?

Listen, either help me out or this whole FIVE YEAR PLAN goes straight to shit!

*smooches...too busy to even blog*
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can you believe it? I might have to take a break or something...

Some Of Us Have REAL Problems

Many of us are desperately looking for work to make ends meet. Others are dodging bill collectors. There are people with advance degrees on public assistance and beautiful, lavish homes being sold below market value because the owners have been slapped in the face with financial issues.

There are people dealing with chronic illnesses in their family and themselves, and our young people are dying or being incarcerated en masse. Nations around the world are experiencing natural disasters that I think are one of the Seven Signs of the Apocalypse.

But THESE TWO BITCHES wanna be crying it up on TV with fucking anorexia because when they get fat (i.e. no longer see their rib cages) it makes them feel bad about themselves.

You know what makes me feel bad about myself? Not being able to feed my kids. Or having to dodge my landlord. Or knowing how I've pissed my life away watching the world pass me by and not taking chances when I really should have.

Not being able to see my ribcage? Yeah, that barely makes the list. But I guess since you were born with all this White Privilege and couldn't possibly want for anything tangible, not being able to see your ribcage must be very, very upsetting.

*stank face*

Give me a fucking break!

At time like this, when I want to jump into the computer monitor and beat someone senseless, it's best for me to just pick up a book and forget that TV exists...

*smooches...moving on from intervention until the junkies come back*
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give me some crack addicts and meth heads--I love them! These anorexic bitches, tho, not so much.

My Spades Game Is A Tad Rusty...And Other Musings

I know you miss reading my weekend updates almost as much as I miss writing them, verdad? Well, here you go my lovelies! Don't ever say I never gave you nuthin...

Three And A Half Hours Too Long
On Friday, after a full day of actual work, I went to Lincoln Center to see this film at Latinbeat (a festival of films from Latin America) called "Extraordinary Stories" that was...wait for it...FOUR HOURS LONG. Between you and me, it didn't need to be. They could have told that story in 30 minutes and let us go on our merry way. But noooooo, the filmmakers--devils that they are--decided to tell the story like a novella, in 18 boring, mind-numbing, NARRATED chapters with TWO intermissions. INTERMISSIONS!!!!

The last movie I saw that was 4+ hours and had ONE intermission was Gone With The Wind, but I mean, the story was Epic. It could have easily gone 6 hours and I would not be mad.

But this piece of shit I saw on Friday, UGH, let's just say "many naps were had."

Rethinking This Baby Thing
Remember how I said I wanted another baby? Well, you can thank Miss Olivia and her cute little squooshy face for causing me to have second thoughts. She's 3, which means by definition she's INSANE. And Chatty. And she wet herself at the park and thought nothing of it.



And then she threw a fit because I beat her in Wii Cycling and Sword Fighting.

Yeah. I think I'm done having babies. Now excuse me while I rip out my uterus.

My Spades Game Is A Tad Rusty
OKAY. So I lost the game for me and my partner. There, I said it. I wasn't paying attention, didn't see which card he led with and ended up cutting him which set us for the round. IT WAS MY FAULT.

Now that that's out of the way...I totally remember why I stopped playing Spades. Y'all be taking it too seriously, shoo! I mean this dude actually got up and left the apartment to have a smoke and cool off because I cut him. SHEESH. It's just cards, homie, not the missile codes. Everything will be alright!

"Yo, Check This Out, Tho..."
By far the funniest shit I witnessed this weekend was some dude having an argument with his girl over the phone. I mean, I can only guess what she was saying but his side of the conversation was more than enough to have me chuckling my ass off for sure.

Highlights include when he got up out of his seat with a "Yo, check this out, tho..." and got in a fighting stance while he listed all the things she needed to check out, AND when he finally yelled into the phone, "But where's the panties, tho? Where's the panties??" Pure Comedy. $50 says he got caught out there...

Side note: what was really the point of that entire display? Arguing, especially over the phone, is such a waste of time and energy. Please don't ever be that guy (or girl) causing a ruckus all in the street. Please.

You Know You're Smitten When...
...you spend most of your Sunday running THEIR errands with them. By choice.
...traveling 2hrs out of your way to see them in the wee hours of the night when you're drunk and tired seems like the only way to spend your night
...parting is such sweet sorrow
...you find yourself quoting Shakespeare
...your once roomy & spacious bed seems too big and too cold. And empty.

*smooches...hoping your weekend was just as eventfully amazing*
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next weekend holds the promise of more FUN FUN FUN so stay tuned!

Reading Will Get You Laid!

And now that I have your attention, make sure you all tune in tonight at 10PM for the second episode of season 3 of Monday Musings- now with THEME MUSIC! Don't be left out, for real!



My co-host is mi pana Brother Omi, and in this latest installment of A Jaded Literary Moment we'll be nerding up your airwaves with the coolest reads to transition you from summer to fall without breaking a sweat. And y'all already know how important *I* think reading is...



...so tune your ass in or suffer my literary wrath!

*smooches...reading like my eyes are leaving tomorrow*
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but seriously, folks, I love a man who loves a good book, so technically the title of this post don't lie :)

A Jaded Moment In History Presents: Che Guevara Used To Babysit Me

We had a dog named Che Guevara that used to babysit us. Only, we knew her as Cheita because the fam had named her before realizing she was a 'her.'

Yes, a dog babysat us... and from what I hear, that bitch did a damn good job. Look how WELL I turned out O_O

Side note: Cheita was the mascot of this "Political Youth Group" of which my mom was a member. *sigh* I don't even want to know what that means... like, was my mom associated with the Panthers? Young Lords? I cannot...

*smooches...afraid to ask my mom anymore questions about her past*
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like FOR REAL I don't want to know. that way if I'm ever subpoenaed...

Say You Knew Me When

This summer I decided to start contributing to a friend's online publication, XI Magazine. The clips on my resume were old, I had been buried in Public Relations mode for too long and the site looked cool, so I started taking on assignments and pitching story ideas.

Last week I was privy to a listening event for Carlos Santana's new CD, "Guitar Heaven," and the subsequent review I wrote got noticed by all the right people (special shout out to my homie, the very talented and sexy photographer Marcin Kaliski who came with me, last minute, and took some great shots of the event). I got word that the article will be featured/added to Carlos Santana's website, facebook, etc, and I almost fell out of my seat. Like, important muckity muck types, and hopefully Santana himself, will be seeing this article. It was enough to make my day.

It's no secret I'm going THROUGH it right now; shit just ain't right at Casa Jaded and I honestly don't know how I'm maintaining and if I will come out of this in one piece. That bit of recognition did so much for me and my ego...they'll never know how much.

Thank you to everyone at XI Magazine for the opportunity to contribute, and the awesome folks associated with the listening party I attended who had the foresight to pass the link on to the staff over at Sony Music. I'm going to hold on to this victory for at least a couple of weeks!

*smooches...proud to be "just a writer"*
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and you can read the article HERE... it is pretty amazing if I do say so myself.

Smart Ass Mouth...

K was explaining one of her crazy OCD tendencies one day. I can't remember what it was but it was seriously NUTS. So then...

ME: I guess that makes sense in Crazy Town.

K: You should know; you live there!

*smooches...so done with this parenting thing*
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why did I teach her to speak again? *sigh*

When Dreams Attack

In the past I've blogged about the weird, crazy and vivid dreams I've had, always seeking (and subsequently getting) an explanation for my subconscious' behavior.

This is another one of those.

Picture it: I throw myself on the bed at like 5:45 knowing the alarm would be going off at 6:30, ready for the most powerful of power naps. As soon as my head hits the pillow I began to drift. And then I feel this pressure, like someone is on my back (I sleep on my stomach, hugging a pillow) and they're heavy. I find it hard to breathe and I'm paralyzed. Sort of that coming out from under anesthesia feeling: your brain is awake but hasn't bothered to inform the body. And mind you, this isn't the first time I've had this happen to me. This is like, the 6th occurrence!

So there's this heavy mofo on my back, crushing the breath out of me, and the next thing I know it's gone. The sequence of events that follows is fuzzy to me because like a fool I waited almost 3hrs to write this down. The last thing I recall before the alarm rang and I jumped up in a cold sweat was being in a hospital, I think, and some one was holding a baby boy, full head of dark hair and light-skinned, and giving it to me. In the dream I remember being on the verge of asking, "Whose baby is that?" but nope, the alarm woke me up.

So dream people, what say you about my latest manifestation of depression/anxiety?

*smooches...longing for a night of restful sleep*
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PS- HEIFERS! Y'all missed my show last night! Don't THINK I didn't notice. That's OK...I see who's getting a piece of the Jaded Empire. And who's NOT.

Did Someone Say, "Monday Musings"???

Ask and ye shall receive!

YES, Monday Musings w/The Jaded NYer & Friends premieres tonight with my annual tribute to Latino Heritage Month. You know the drill- I tell you how AWESOME and AMAZING Latinos are and you nod in agreement and worship at my feet. Don't act brand new!

Speaking of brand-spankin'-new, check out the new flier:

Photo credit: Marcin Kaliski

(And if you promise to be good, click HERE to see the PG-13 version of the Season 3 flier. My vanity couldn't help itself.)

Tonight's co-host, that foul-mouthed Cubana, Irene of FitHungryGirl Adventures, and I will talk about the importance or identifying with and preserving our Latino culture. Who are we? Where are we? And all that mambo.

Also, you don't want to miss out on my cool new Monday Musings theme music (courtesy of Mr. Brad Taylor) and a fancy-schmancy giveaway of Carlos Santana's latest CD, "Guitar Heaven" (dropping on September 21st).

And yes, of course the chat room will be open "...for my hooligans in Brooklyn..." and beyond. So tune in tonight and let's get this shit started right!

*smooches...kicking off the school year right*
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and unless you want to find a lump of coal in your stocking this Christmas, you'd BETTER tune in tonight.

Mari Speaks On...

...the book she's writing about her dad and Mami's tumultuous relationship:

MARI: Chapter 3 is how you two meet, and Chapter 4 is when you threw an iron at his head.

MAMI: It wasn't an iron, it was a flower pot.

ME: Actually, it was a car seat.

*smooches...planning Mari's book release party, too*
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and you MUST come, if for no other reason than to watch her dad curse somebody out!

The Wind From My Sails

Dear Raquel,

Thank you for your recent submission to the Apple Valley Review. I'm sorry to let you know that your short story, "On a Blue Day," was not accepted for publication.

However, this is a particularly subjective business, and I always appreciate the opportunity to read new work. Please feel free to submit again in the future, and thanks again for thinking of us.

Best wishes,
Leah

Leah Browning, Editor
Apple Valley Review: A Journal of Contemporary Literature

*no smooches today...the media empire is in mourning*
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we'll try and compose ourselves in time for Friday shenanigans

Why I Won't Self-Publish

I am a snob when it comes to certain things: I'll always choose authentic Mexican food over TexMex chain stores, I refuse to acknowledge "urban" books as real literature and Reality TV, even though I immerse myself in many of those shows, is what is killing the industry. In the same vein, I don't put much stock in self-published books.

Since I was a little girl, dreaming of seeing my books on the shelves at Barnes & Noble, never did I imagine that the industry would change so much and become so dependent on technology. I will probably be the last hold out at the store buying books while everyone else has a Kindle or an iPad; I'm fully aware of this and accept it as my lot in life. However, just because computers are now dominating the world does not mean I will chuck any dreams of having Random House publish my book and sell glossy novels I've printed myself out the back of my car.

Self-publishing would be like me saying to myself: "Raquel, your book ain't shit, and all of the publishing professionals of the world think so, too. Therefore you might as well just save the manuscript as a pdf, copy & bind it at Kinkos and hand it out at the barber shops of BedStuy."

I understand others don't feel this way. Some might even argue that I'm putting too much stock in others' opinion and validation of my work, and that if *I* believe it's good why not cut out the middleman and just publish it myself? Point taken. But listen, I'm an artist. Writing is my art, my craft, and I'm pretty conceited about it. I need my ego stroked about how great I am. What better way to feed that need than to have your books accepted by the professionals that govern the industry? The positive write-up in the NY Times Book Review and Publisher's Weekly? I want all that MORE than I want to meet and marry John Cusack.

Others might say ebooks are the future and I should get on board now or get left by the side of the road with 8-track cassettes, VCRs and electric typewriters. Again, I get that. But I'm going to hold out for the agent that believes in my work as much as I do that they eat, sleep and dream ME; the editor and the big old publishing house that will finally answer my agent's many calls and read my first three chapters; the call I will get saying I have a meeting at 1745 Broadway to discuss a possible book deal; the subsequent book release party (which we've already discussed) in Brooklyn.

As I've gotten older I've let go of the Victorian Mansion w/a wrap-around porch dream, and the career as a Radio City Music Hall Rockette dream, and even the finally learn to play my own damn guitar dream. But this one, this published author dream, this give young inner-city Dominican girls someone to relate to dream, this put my people on the map for positive things dream, this show The Man where he can shove his racist agenda dream, this make my grandparents proud of me dream... I can't give that up without a real fight.

It's all I've ever wanted.

*smooches...striving to make this a reality*
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although, once I have my media empire I suppose I will be self-publishing all the time, right? Under one of the Jaded Empire Media imprints, of course...

1,000 Blog Posts? Where's My Moscato?!

Hello, readers old & new- do you know what you're reading right now? My 1,000th BLOG POST!

Goddamn I talk a lot!

Can you believe we're here already? Here- have a glass with us



At first I wanted to Rock Out with my Cock Out today to celebrate because it just so happens September marks the fourth anniversary of The Jaded NYer, but I'm already plotting something special for the FIFTH anniversary so that killed any party talk. Plus it's the holiday weekend, and BK is overrun with drunk & sleep-deprived West Indians right now. Perfect time for me to stay home and finish nursing the cold that tried to end my life.

Most importantly, when I read over the posts I've written since the 500th blog post celebration I realized what a dark turn this site has taken- depression, suicide, unemployment, poverty...UGH! Why reminisce on shit that I would really rather forget and never speak of again? Let's just say it's been a HARD year and a half sprinkled with some goodness in between and leave it at that. Deal?

I do want to take a minute to thank everyone for reading, especially the handful of loyals that have actually read all 1,000 of my brain droppings (I skimmed through them this morning...those be A LOT of words, yo!) since 2006. You are appreciated. Your wacked out sense of humor, your contributions to my crazy, your encouragement of and enthusiasm for all things Jaded will serve you well when I rule the world. Trust.

I've been having a bad day for the last 500 posts. I have. And I'm sorry if my super-long-bad-day has impeded in any way on your awesome day. When I initially envisioned this post I had so many bells and whistles planned, but this blog isn't about that. We're about words and realness over here. The next time you see an extravaganza on these pages it will be for something grander than the 1,000 reasons I have for not moving forward in life.

That said, I'm about to get showered and dressed and hang with my family on this beautiful Labor Day. However I will leave you with something pretty to glide you into the 4-day work week ahead (if you're lucky enough to have a job, that is); some loveliness from the woman that used to adorn the post-scripts to all my words.



1,000 posts. Mazel Tov to me. *throws confetti*

"Don't forget to have a good time..."

*smooches...to all of you for putting up with me*
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may the next 1,000 be a little more chipper...please?

Jaded Photographs 2010: September Edition

Addiction

*smooches...indulging in non-social things while I can*
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the loner in me is having a field day today, thankful for a nasty cold that is keeping me at home, alone, in bed, with my books

Just A Writer

People don't realize how powerful their words are sometimes, I swear.

During this whole unemployment ordeal I decided to enlist some professionals to help me find a job, any job, so I can stop robbin' old ladies and makin' a dash. And within a few weeks of each other two separate "professionals" informed me that I'm "just a writer" therefore it will be tough to place me anywhere.

Wow. Really? Thanks for straightening that up, because here I thought I was intelligent, professional, talented and an asset to any company. But no, I'm just a writer. An unpublished, mediocre, no-trade-having, unemployable writer.

*whew*

I'm glad that's settled! Now I can send this application into DeVry and get me some REAL marketable skills. Not these uppity degrees and book learnin', no sir, that's not worth the paper it's printed on. Then I'm gonna grab me that $9.25/hr call center job he was tryna shove down my throat, because that will definitely help me pay my rent, phone, internet, gas, electric, two hungry, growing kids and student loans. YUP.

This "writing" thing was clearly a phase and a waste of time. I should have known by the color of my skin that it wasn't going to take me places, right? I know that's what he wanted to say with his "You're just a writer" statement. I wasn't privileged enough to major in the arts. I should have majored in something tangible like math or business administration, right? Fuck my pen, right? $9.25/hr is where it's at, right?

And I have the AUDACITY to expect more. SMH. What was I thinking???

*smooches...giving myself until Sunday w/this pity party*
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and yes, at Smarty's request, the gift bags WILL contain penis. My gift bags always do... #privatejoke

Jaded School Of Parenting: Bitch You Got Babies!

This is another installment of the #WomanLaw series started by members of the Social Media Mafia Bangs and a Bun, The F$%k-it List, Smarty P. Jones and myself.

I chose this topic because it ties in with my parenting class series that I started on Monday Musings 2 seasons ago, helping the clueless parents of the world get their shit together.

But today, let me just address the mothers out there who, on a daily basis, forget that they are supposed to be a positive influence and role model in their children's lives. A little something I like to call, "Bitch! You got babies!"

Yes, I'm talking to you, at the club almost every night, booty-tootin' for the cameras in your see-through leggings and "5-Star Chick" tattoo across your chest.

And you, bringing home man after man after man, not being discrete about your hoenastics of taking precautions as to whom you allow around your babies.

And you, damn near 40 but still starting and partaking of fights in the streets like you're in Junior High School.

And especially you, proudly announcing to the internets all of your sexual exploits with sub-par rappers, the money they pay you for said exploits and inviting violence and danger into your life.

All you bitches need to remember that you're in charge of another human being's life, and when you decided to carry your pregnancy to term you also signed up to give that new life the proper guidance and nourishment- both physical and emotional- that it needed. To strut around now talking about, "He grown, he can take care of himself," and the boy is 10 with no daddy figure... *sigh* you need to re-evaluate your priorities.

I'm less concerned with YOUR happiness and more so with the potential purse-snatcher and co-ed rapist you're raising, or the teen mom/gang girl my tax dollars will soon be responsible for. YOU don't matter as much once that baby comes into play. You need to adjust your situation to make sure that your kids have the best opportunities to succeed in life. They didn't ask to be born, YOU chose that, so now that they're here, do right by them.

Bitch, you got babies! Get yourself a tall glass of ACT RIGHT, with no ice to avoid dilution, before it's too late.

*smooches...looking to offend as many bad moms as humanly possible*
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because you should all be ASHAMED of your behavior, dammit!

Introducing Jaded, The Screenwriter

You all know I'm an amazing blogger, and some of you have had the privilege of reading my stories. But only a chosen few know what a fabulous screenwriter I am. Mostly because I haven't told you or shown you any of my projects. Or done anything with them for that matter, except read them over from time to time and fantasize about how many Original Screenplay Oscars I'm going to earn in my lifetime.

But in keeping with my new Field Of Dreams attitude (thanks, Muireann!) I've decided that, besides my goal of being published by 2011, I plan to have one short film shot and ready to screen by 2012 (I gave myself the extra year because I know diddly squat about producing and directing) and a web series cast, written and up & running online at the same time if not sooner.

These things are already in the works and partially written. I just wanted to give you directors, producers, actors, sound editors, musicians, etc the heads up so that when I send out the casting call n shit you'll be ready to go.

If fact, feel free to hit me up NOW; the sooner we make this happen the better.

Be prepared to come outta pocket or help me raise money 'cause you know a sista is unemployed n shit...

*smooches...excited about my own fabulosity*
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you know I'm fabulous, dahlink, admit it :)