March 23, 2012

Tongue-tied: a poem

My tongue is heavy from speaking your name
Weighted words heavy with promise
Twisted around my vocal chords
Like a noose
I cannot repeat it
For if I do I'll die inside
A little of me crumbles
At the magnitude of your wanting

Your name looms
Like eclipsed moon over Saturn
You ask to explore my planets
But I hide behind the very thought
Of your probing
Orifices filled with verbal erections

I speak your name and my heart beats faster
Like the wings of a hummingbird
Caught in my throat
Only to be released when I think of heavier things: imagination creativity procreation lust desire home positivity liberation you you you you kisses you love lust desire liberation liberation liberation is you you you God it is you

Your name... like colors running together
Into a pool of blackness or prism
It has no end or beginning

Your full name is 7 syllables
like haiku middle stanza
It is imprisoned poetry to me
Dare I speak it?

My tongue is heavy burdened.
From carrying around the idea of you
Swollen muscle
Gone into anaphylactic shock

Your name burns in my mouth
It stings my throat
It coats it like elixir
And becomes lodged somewhere
Between my sternum and my soul

My tongue can't speak your name
Without beginning to breath
In orgasmic, staccato rhythm
Boring a pathway to the pit of my

My tongue grows weak
At the idea of you
Of being intertwined with yours
But that seems to be the only cure
Your tongue locked into mine

I say all this to say
Damn... Baby,you've got me tongue-tied.

March 22, 2012

Thursday Tunes: Simply Beautiful...Al Green

I am a child that had her musical teeth cut on old soul, blues, and R&B. There wasn't a Saturday that went by growing up that the house wasn't filled with oldies on the weekend...and Al Green was on heavy rotation.  I have so many fond memories of Rev Al. He was my late aunt Madonna's favorite male singer...Normally loud and boisterous...if she heard some Al Green....she would hit the proverbial "Owwwwww", snap her fingers,  and sway to the beat of his music....I think she liked the ballads the most.

Albert Green, born April 13, 1946 in Arkansas, is a Gospel and R&B sensation, whose peak was in the 1970s. Green's debut album with Hi Records was Green Is Blues, a slow, horn-driven album that allowed Green to show off his powerful and expressive voice, with Mitchell arranging,engineering and producing. The album was a moderate success. The next LP, Al Green Gets Next to You (1970), included a hit remake of the Temptations classic "I Can't Get Next to You", and more significantly, Green's first of seven consecutive gold singles, "Tired of Being Alone". Let's Stay Together (1972) was an even bigger success, as was I'm Still In Love With You (1972). Call Me was a critical sensation and just as popular at the time; it is one of his most fondly remembered albums today. Al Green Explores Your Mind (1974) contained his own song "Take Me to the River", which was later turned into an R&B hit (#7) by label-mate Syl Johnson and also covered by Talking Heads(#26 Pop) on their second album.

And although he had an unfortunate incident with a jealous  lover and some hot grits....nothing can deny that Al Green is still the man with a voice that sounds the same.

And the most perfect ballad to me is his song "Simply Beautiful". With nothing but a basic electric guitar accompanying him, he croons with damn near erotic perfection on the 1972 classic. His falsetto executed perfectly...The lyrics are devastatingly simple. He mostly wails and moans with so much Gospel tinged perfection you forget about the bare-bones lyrics.

My favorite lyrics:
If I gave you my love
I tell you what I'd do
I'd expect a whole lot of love out of you

You got to be good to me
I'm gonna be good to you
There's a whole lot of things you and I could do
Huh, ha, ha

Rev. Al Green is everything. A little bit of Gospel, a great big heaping of soul and a whole lot of romance. I dare you not to put on some Al and NOT get pregnant (LOL..or come super close....)

March 21, 2012

Wordless (Sorta) Wednesday

Oh yeah! It's officially March Madness!!!

Please support my brothers of Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity Inc. and  the "Sigmas from the Heart" calendar to raise funds and awareness against autism.

You can purchase your calendar here:

And follow them on Facebook:

March 20, 2012

Embracing The "Thickness"

Jilly from Philly is a brick house fa sho'

It took me 33 (ok..32.75) years to realize..

I am not skinny.

I will NEVER be skinny.


The smallest I may get down to is a NICE solid 8...a 10 if I up the carbs....

And I am OK with that.....

Part of my embrace of my bliss in 2012 has also been coming to grips with my body image... As a kid, I have always had this love/hate relationship with my curves. I developed SUPER early, and was all boobs and thighs and no butt. I had a weird shape in my eyes. I got teased relentlessly....My name starts with a T so I got called every "Titty" joke in the book. I had no butt...and I got teased by guys about that. Yet I wanted to be thin. I didn't realize at 5'4 and 125 lbs I was STACKED....not fat...and went through periods of flirting with of bulimia and anorexia. That didn't last too long.....I like to eat. I used to run miles and stayed doing leg exercises because I was a cheerleader....little did I know I was FIONE....

When I got older, It just got worse. Video chicks were abound. College campuses filled with dime pieces that were not looking like you. I gained weight. Lost weight...and gained again. I was all over the place in size...8..10..12./..14 The largest I ever got was a size 16...and close to 180 lbs..... My wedding dress was a size 18 and I cried so hard realizing how large it was. I was devastated.

After the divorce, my own body image self consciousness really took a turn for the worse. I lived in ATLANTA...home of the Magic City dancers....and felt like men also had expectations that women look just as fine as those women... I took matters into my own hands and went on a SERIOUSLY strict diet, worked out 7 days a week for hours at a time and lost 50 lbs. I felt good...I was at ease. but then out of nowhere..the weight started to creep back up. I had no idea why....

It went to extreme levels where I was working out like a beast and not dropping a pound. I cried and cried..People began to notice the sudden weight gain.( Heck..part of the reason I was/am celibate is because I am not too comfortable with people seeing me naked. ) I was just out of it. After working hard to lose 50 lbs previously...clothes started not to fit... I was tired all the time. I didn't really eat badly but the weight was there... I went to the doctor and she diagnosed me with hypothyroidism: a disease of the thyroid gland where my metabolism slows to a halt, you gain weight, have tiredness, headaches and a bunch of other stuff. Once the doctor told me what the issue was, how I'd have to REALLY watch what I ate, take synthetic hormones for the rest of my life, and work out even harder, I got a grip on things. But she told me.."You may never be down to the size you were.....but you will be healthy" That was a hard pill to swallow.

But I am over it.

I  look at thicker role models like Jill Scott, Christiana Hendricks, Lalah Hathaway, Emily Bustamante, Scarlett Johanssan, Chrisette Michele, Serena Williams, and others.......and realize it is OK to be sexy and curvy. If I got a gut even if I work is OK. (As Chris Rock's some good p**y under that gut!! *LOL* ) Let me put on my Spanx and work the hell out of a bandage dress and stilettos. I may not be able to rock a two  piece, but I can get in a snazzy one-piece. I might not be able to shop at Victoria's secret...but I can rock some sexy Lane Bryant undies... And with all the news bombarding the images of black w omen and why we are single, our weight being one of those issues and matters of contention, I am tired of the assault on my psyche and I reject it. And as my mother once told me..." man has turned down a naked matter what size she was...".

One day..I went and put on some lingerie....and looked in the mirror and smiled...I had filled out some...but I was still pretty hot...  I keep myself healthy, still working out and watching what I's just more of me to watch out for.

I'm OK with being thicker than normal. I mean..I am Southern for God sakes... and even if I don't drop another pound I  know...that I love me.....I love the new found appreciation for "the thickness"

..and someone out there will love "the thickness" too. Believe that...

March 15, 2012

Square Peg/Round Hole: A Poem

It's 20***....

Square Peg....

Here we are again...

Falling harder than Gabby Sidibe hitting a split off a pole at Magic City

Yes.. We here we are again. Falling hard. For him.

Here we go... Writing love lorn poetry over this man.

Again and again. Like a teenager wondering what your last name sounds like with his.

We get sick at the thought of not speaking to him.
Wondering how his day is. And what he's doing.
What kind of underwear he has one.
What it feels like to slip your tongue around his manhood....
If his cologne smells like sex.

Here we are jonesing for the man.

But she is too....

Round hole...

He used to be so interested.....

Hanging on your every word...

He calls you at 10 pm and calls her at 10:39.

You text him at 7 and get no response till Midnight

because he's texting her depth

Afterthought you are...

Square Peg...

You are writing your names with his on scraps of paper.

She's tattooing his name on his heart .

And you don't stand a chance.

You try and ignore it.

Surely I'm so bad and I'm so fly bitches can't stand a chance. 
Oh I got him. I got this.

No you don't .

Round Hole

You say you love his favorite group. She's got one up on you with tickets to the concert .

You cook his favorite meal...she's growing and planting seeds in his garden.

He's plucking a weed.

He wants to fuck you...and keep it moving.

All you are is hole... bodily embodiment of a place to release.

You are here. So far away...

He is there. And she's there too....


What you thought was coincidence wasn't.
No matter how much you tried to shove it down your deep, dark hole in your heart.

Square peg

Round hole

You try to share....bits and pieces...overshare to overstand...

He picks and chooses ..

Assigning importance

You self inflict the blame

She wins....

Because she fits....

Lock and key in his heart.

But you don't

Like picking locks with a bobby pin

Square peg

In a world of round holes...

You never win...

(PS: Thanks to my new FB Group for inspiring this poem....)

March 13, 2012

A (Re) New Relationship with B.O.B

(Get a little Bedroom Kandi...courtesy of Kandi Burruss)

There is great debate among those practicing celibacy . The debate is on the validity of toys and masturbatory aids and if they should be used during your period of "rest" from carnal knowledge.

Are toys ok? Certainly they aren't human. Is masturbation ok? Certainly you are your safest partner. Does it create in the spiritually sober mind a fleshly desire? Or are you just handling business until the time "comes".

I, early on, was of the mindset that touching myself during this period was bad. And especially using a vibrator was no good. It was phallic. It pulsed. It moved. And most of all, it got me desiring the real flesh and blood thing. So I avoided all tools of the trade. I was doing just fine....until...

A vendor unexpectedly sent me a toy. I hadn't requested any toys for review but it was a gorgeous piece of sexual apparatus. It vibrated like a monster, had a curve for g-spot stimulation. On top of that, the vendor sent me a sample of lubricant. Hmmmm... Maybe they were tempting me. I put said toy and lubricant away in my "review drawer ".... Never to be heard again. I didn't need to contact the vendor or do the review. I hadn't asked for that thing.

Days....months go by. I had not even thought about that thing. That is, until the day I misplaced the remote for the tv. I swear I had lost it. I searched and searched until finally I looked in the last place where I'd put it : the "review " drawer. Well.... There was the remote. I must have sleepily put it there in the middle of the night . Next to it.. That unopened , shiny box.

I paused.

Hmmm... Maybe I should test it. I mean at least look at it. I could be defective , right ? I felt a little guilty tearing into the package but I did. And there she was. The Cadillac of g-spot vibrators. It was this thing...

I looked at it for a while...

Looked at the packaging.

Turned on some Raheem Devaughn.....

and well.... it went sorta like this....

Hmm..let's just say I need to revisit my policy on "no toys" during the "celibacy" period. I felt like I had reconnected with an old boyfriend, we were making amends, getting back in our groove, and it was all good. How silly had I been to think that loving myself physically was a violation of my vow to celibacy...How silly had I thought that masturbation was some sort of violation of the vow I made to myself. Oh I missed you

I had a new found respect for  BOB. 

And I think BOB missed me too....

March 9, 2012

Feeling/ Not Feeling


  • My birthday is a few weeks away. I'm soon about to move out of the 30-34 age box. Lol
  • Silence: when all you need to say can be done with a look, touch, or kiss.
  • Carole's Daughter Tui oil
  • Raheem Devaughn's Destination Loveland mixtape. That song "All Ready" puts me in fantasy land.
  • like i have a handle on the direction I want my research to go in.
  • The show New Girl.
  • key lime pie
  • Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives on Food TV
  • Who Do You Think You Are on NBC. The black people are so interesting...
  • Going to see my girls in DC end of the month. I love them so. I need their energy right now.
  • Mojitos
  • Proud of myself I had balls to go travel alone. I will do it again
  • Words with Friends....I can play all day.
  • Now my girl Candi has me addicted to "Draw Something"
  • This pic of Lenny gawd....
  • strawberries and whipped cream
  • my year of celibacy is almost over
  • Portable Ipod Speakers
  • summer is almost here
  • Cole Haan shoes
  • Angie Harmon's voice
  • Dolvett Quince's teeth. My god...I love dark men and white teeth
  • Big KRIT
  • guy friends who dont want your ass.....they are a treasure
  • Confession: staring at your pictures in my phone. yep. I do it. Because you are so fine...*sigh*

Not Feeling:

  • I will be 33. Ugh lmao! Im usually so amped over my birthday. Pray I get better.
  • Silence when all you want to do is talk. Something about silence hurts.
  • I havent done a product review in
  • No idea if I'll be able to vacation again.
  • Rapper/singer collabo albums . Just do a song or two
  • The phrases "it's not you, it's me."  followed by " I just need some space". Makes you feel like a nuisance and an asshole...when all you wanna do is be close to them.
  • Sometimes it IS you..
  • Cheap ass tequila.
  • I cant remember the last time I kissed someone.
  • Traveling alone just magnifies the fact that you are single...
  • All these competition shows. How many music/fashion/modeling/acting competition shows must we have?
  • Losing at Words with Friends to people I KNOW are not that bright. Cheating asses! You hated to write papers in school. sucka! LOL
  • uncomfortable messages from male friends on Facebook. I hate trying when I post pics and people give crazy commentary, esp men, ESP married ones...
  • I am uncomfortable taking compliments.
  • having no energy or time to work out
  • cottage cheese...yuck
  • daydreams not being reality
  • I need another vacation.
  • I drank far too much on vacation
  • tan lines that are visible
  • my year of celibacy is almost over....
  • Guy friends who test you.'ll never hit this. EVER.
  • Nicki Minaj has lost her way..and apparently her skin color.
  • Confession: I miss's not healthy
  • that Snooki is pregnant, someone actually is gonna marry Amber Rose....and I'm single and childless.

March 8, 2012

F*ck Like A Man

I hear that phrase a lot. There is a belief that men always separate their feelings from sex.  That this is a hard and fast rule....Meaning, they hardly ever have "emotional" reasons for having sex, particularly if they are single. Women need romance/feelings to have sex; Men need Sex to have romance (LOL)

As my reach my full year of celibacy, I have been asked if I will have "causal" sex after this year is over. Meaning, will I be able to just have sex, minus the emotions. "Have sex like a man", they say. Just *fuck them and keep on moving*.... and surely I will have more fun. At this point, I am not sure if I will even want to stop the celibacy, let along jump in head first (pun intended) and dive in deep.

I've been told I will feel more liberated if I "'take all the pressure off" of it, all the expectations that I will be sharing a serious, life altering experience. Just "think like a man and do it".  Divorce myself from the idea that sex creates a  "soul tie"....and that if I think more like "Samantha" from Sex and the City, I will really enjoy my sex life.

While I appreciate them advocating for a "liberated sex-positive" stance, I don't know how comfortable I am with that. Furthermore, I am a bit miffed that women somehow think that all men can divorce themselves from emotion and just stick their penis where they please. "Ain't no love for them hoes"....sure... *blank stare*

I just refuse to believe that 99% of men are running around having sex like mindless androids. I really refuse. I believe that men have ..."feelings".  I was recently told by a man that he couldn't just have sex with anyone...he had to have feelings for into them. Now... do I totally believe him?

You  know what....I do actually believe him. Why? Because he had no reason but to be straight up with me when asked a direct question. I think we offend men by thinking that they are just robotic and automatic with their dicks. They aren't. There is a flesh and blood and THINKING and rational person attached to it, despite what the media, past relationships, or anything else may tell us.

Just like women...they too can feel empty if no emotion is involved. Just like women....they feel like they have to have a deeper connection to penetrate someone. And just like women...they realize that just "sticking and moving" gets pretty old pretty quickly, waking up with regrets is no fun. What if you are the woman, and just going around getting your freak on, and low and behold, you find that one treasure of a guy who actually connects to you deeper than your vagina?  We may communicate differently but the human need for emotional attachment is universal and across gender lines.

I do believe in God. I do believe that sex is highly spiritual...Sex is a highly tender moment of vulnerability. You are naked in ever sense of the word, stripped down to the way God made you. Why wouldn't you want to, in that moment, have some kind of emotional rawness with the person who you are allowing to enjoy your physical presence?

I am struggling. I feel like Analog Girl in a Digital World when it comes to sex sometimes. Sometimes I wanna go fast. Sometimes I wanna go slow. I do wear my heart on my sleeve in the worst way. Sometimes I want to hid everything and be impenetrable (ha...the irony..LOL)  And most of all, I don't want to get hurt. I feel like this whole "sex w/ no emotion" movement is in response to deeper hurts that people have, male or female. But especially women.......

I am not sure I can go on living my life f*cking like a man..

...especially if I want to love (and be loved) like a woman.

March 5, 2012

While I Was There: a poem

Your hands remind me
Of sand
The sand I felt between my thighs
In foreign lands
Rough touching
No matter how much
I try and wash you off
There you go
Engrained in every part of me
You don't even realize how you
Touch me.
And I want to be able
Not to get rid of you
To have you hide in unsuspecting places
To have you exfoliate
The rough exterior of my heart
Soften me
Allow me to love you
Do you even want that, my love?
I read Neruda on the beach
Toes pressed in sand
Imagining that it's your tongue
Grazing my toes
I am aura and energy
A firefly in a daytime sky
I want to drown in you
Like quicksand
Like an hourglass measuring
The time
I fold in and out of space.
Back into you
Until I am mixed with you
And you mix with me
You've enter every fiber of me
washing an ocean..
sticking me .
The sun bakes you into me
like clay
Seeps into me
I cant rid you
I cant wash you off
I wont...
I wont...
I imagine your hands
Are sand
Sand from foreign land
Between my thighs

March 3, 2012

Traveling While (Single &) Black

This is a travel log (it will attempt to be at least..and I promise to be sorta short).

I decided on a whim after my last birthday that I would do somethings immediately on my life's bucket list. Those being : a) not give a shit anymore and b ) travel internationally solo.

While still working on A , I put my plan for B in action. I had no time to wait on a guy in my life so I could have some romantic get away. Nor did I have time to wait on my girls to coordinate schedules. Nope...I was going during my spring break.

 I called a girlfriend who was a travel agent and she booked a moderately priced , all inclusive trip for my spring break for 4 days. Destination .... Playa del Carmen, Mexico. About an hour's drive from Cancun and situated along the Mayan Riviera. I was taking 1 single suitcase....and a positive attitude.

Day 1: Black Dot in White Milk

It all started at the airport...

I hate to fly. I truly do. It texted everyone possible to send up prayer. I had to go get a pre-flight drink (Vodka and OJ is my poison)....I was good to go... See...
After being racially profiled and having my locs tugged because apparently people smuggle cocaine in locs, I  was OK..well..not OK..but as well as I could be. I knew I would feel claustrophobic, so I decided to upgrade to first class for $50. Cool. Soon as I walked onto the plane, I looked around..NO ONE was black but me. Also, no one was flying alone but me. What? There were couples of all kind: gay, straight, young, old, friends, family...but no singles...and no coloreds. friend said " know its not "blacks flying to Cancun" season....they spent all the tax money". LMAO! I guess...*sigh*

After a pretty smooth flight (ok so I got drunk on the plane and went to sleep...),  I land in Cancun. The bag porters were like"Pretty lady? You alone? No man? Where is your man?" this $5 and shut up. Then I get to a little coupon/tour area and the man goes "Coupons for you and your man?" I said "Nope. No man...." and he goes "WHAT WHY??" ...I shake my head and go..."Yeah...Imma go now"...I get to my airport shuttle....and the man looks at me puzzled. He looks around and goes "Just you?" I said.."Yep" He goes."But why? Why you come to Cancun alone? No man? " I let out an exasperated *sigh*..... I guess women don't go around solo. I just want to relax. I hopped in the passenger van and to my surprise there was one black woman....with an SUPER old white sugar daddy type. Eh...oh well.I didn't peep any me I looked. I smiled but she wasn't freindly. We just dropped her off at her fancy, smancy resort.

After an hours drive, I get to the resort....and I look around. Hmmm...there are NO black people. Just me....I am like "well..maybe they are in honeymoon mode". Nope...there were NO black people....just me (wait..there was a Cuban-American sales dude).  I check in and the woman was puzzled that I was alone....and said "No husband? But why? You so pretty? Just want to relax? How old are you?" *sigh*... I just said " please just book my spa for tomorrow"...My room was near the pool and beach....totally ideal. I put down my bags.....went out to the beach....had a drink....a mojito...and took in the scenes. Gorgeous.....

Later that night, I went to a dinner theater that had traditional Mexican food and folklore dancing. Again...the only black person. I had to find a seat with a German couple. I smiled...they smiled...and then I heard the lady say "schones Schwartzer" (which means pretty black girl). So here I was...the Schwarzer  (I might as well had been the n*gger).... Nevertheless...I had a good time....enjoyed the dancing and food...tasted some exotic tequilas...bought some gifts from street vendors....and called it a night.

Day 2: The "Exotic" In an Exotic Land

The next day, I woke up to the sound of this rat-like creature called a sereque scratching at my patio door.. I took some time, enjoyed the rain shower head, and chilled for a minute, looking at the sun finally rising. I quickly put on my swimsuit, coverup and and flip flops. I headed to breakfast...and had a good time. I sat alone, and took in the scenery. IT was a gorgeous, romantic morning. IT was 7:30 am......and I was taking it all in.
The waiters were very accommodating but a bit puzzled as to why this sista girl was here alone. I had to explain time and time again I was here to "relax"....but they were making it a bit hard. After breakfast, I met my masseuse (a tiny wide woman named Gonzala) at the beachfront massage tables. She was like.."Just you?" Again I nodded yes and smiled....she was like.."Uhm..ok". Then I got on the table...I had my camera and she goes.."I take pic of you for your boyfriend no?" And she SNAPPED  A PIC OF ME!  OK...i had all kinds of side-boob hanging out..and a reluctant look on my face. I did enjoy hearing crashing waves and smelling the sea air as I got my massage. She was great with her tiny hands.....and I was dozing off....I did notice she touched my hair.....I guess it intrigued her. (Oh and I erased that picture...smh)

After that...I hit the beach w/ cerveza and books in hand....and enjoyed my time soaking in the sun. Let me tell you all something...Europeans could give a DAMN about how they look in swimsuits. While I was so self conscious of my thick thighs and stomach, I saw it all: fat keg bellies, wrinkled skin, sagging boobs, bodies to die for, and bodies nearing death. Men really didn't care as they had on Speedos and flip flops. I was like...such confidence. Which made me in turn easily want to shed my layers of cover up. Besides...who was going to see me??  I felt free....freer than I had in a long time.  enjoyed my beer(s) and book. I read for class..then started to read this Best Black Erotica 2 book. (I don't know WHY i did that....because the scenery was really doing something to me). The sand on my body reminded me of hands...the sun reminded me of kisses...not to mention...I kept peeking at those cabana beds....

After I had gotten really nice and tan, I took a shower and got ready for dinner. I thought I'd dine in the Italian spot. The hostess was like "Just you?" I said..."Yes". She frowned, and showed me to a table in the back. I was like..Hmmmm... I ordered some fantastic food. And I looked nice. The waiter was kind enough to snap of pic of me at dinner.

I enjoyed my food and enjoyed listening to the waves..... After dinner I went to the beach at night. I sat on a cabana bed and listened to the waves, jotting down some lines of poetry. Then I heard a "Hmmmm" and an "ooooh". I peek over to the bed next to me and a couple were in the throws of passion. I was kind of startled...but my things and left. I understood completely...the place was very romantic.

I went to my room and looked at some pics of my friends and loved ones, wished they were here, kissed pics in my Iphone and went to bed. (Yeah...corny right)

Day 3: Chocolate Sisters and Sales Pitches

The next day, I signed up to do the little "sales tour", where one of the folks was going to try and lure me into getting one of these spots as a vacation property. I only did it because I wanted the 900 peso credit for the Spa. The woman who booked it touched my hair. saying she liked it. I winched. I hated feeling so "othered".

Sales Dude was a hick from Georgia and had breakfast with me...and ate too fast...and said too much. I wasn't paying attention after a while...he took me through all of the motions...and I just nodded and finally said "You do realize I am not buying anything..I am in education and do not make $200,000 to plop down on a vacation property". HE was like "Maybe next time you can bring your boyfriend?" I rolled my eyes....He got the hint and laid off of that.  HE still had to do the sales pitch, bringing in other dudes...and another dude. Finally, I just got my spa credit and left....

I went to the spa, credit in hand, and booked a chocolate body massage and scrub, that included real cocoa beans and real Mexican chocolate. This time I had a guy who looked more like Nacho Libre than Enrique Iglasias.....and he was "most happy to be at service" (his words).

He took me to a secluded room where aromatherapy was pumped in followed by some Enya. He said.."Chocolate scrub?" I said yes....he giggled and said "Chocolate scrub for the chocolate girl?" I raised my eyebrow like "Uhm...really dude??" He was firm in his application and touch. First he scrubbed me down with cocoa beans.....and I noticed he lingered a long time on my thighs, stomach and under my breasts. At first I thought t was just a coincidence. Once the scrub was done, he applied the chocolate, which was warm and had me smelling like Nutella. He rubbed and rubbed...and moaned. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. I showered and he rubbed me down with oil...and said "Now...all done. chocolate for the chocolate girl".   Now I was not only "Schwartzer". I was "chocolate girl."

Afterwards, I went to the beach...and I took off my tunic, ordered something fruity with an umbrella,  and decided to walk along the coast. I had my camera in hand and a white guy (Italian I presume) stopped and said "Photo?" pointing at my camera. I said "Thanks!". He took a picture.....then stopped....and put on his glasses and took another pic.... "Hmm..perfecto!". I looked at the pic and realized he just zoomed in on my boobs more. I said "Thanks..." and kept walking, soaking up sun and letting my feet get tan. I spied lovers kissing on the sand, some frolicking in the water.

Once my time was up on the beach,I was about 5 shades darker,  and the sun was setting, I decided to shower and dress for my final dinner before I was to leave in the morning. I went to another private dining area and decided to splurge and have lobster. The waiters seated me and smiled and looked me up and down. I think my dress had a little too much cleavage, I pulled my hair in front and sat down. The waiter asked my name and I told him. Apparently there is a famous Mexican singer with the same name. Then he asked.."Where is your  man? No boyfriend?" I said.."No....just me". He looked me up and down....and said "Too bad". He brought out some champagne (which I didn't ask for). He said "For you." I smiled and said thanks and continued to read the book I brought. They brought the lobster and indulged in the night air one last time. The waiters were overly friendly....I guess cleavage goes a long way.

 I heard the Mariachi band playing on the beach....I went down, grabbed a mojito from the bar, and enjoyed the band one last time. I saw couples swaying and hips not really on beat (lol). I sat on the edge of a a beach chair and listened. I really had enjoyed myself...but part of me knew not to come to a place so romantic alone again. It wasn't that I was lonely. I just hated having my peace disturbed by people who have no concept of traveling solo or women not having a man...

Day 4:  Adios! Mexico! 

I woke up with a raging sinus headache, I'm sure brought on by the night air and the air conditioning not being regulated. One minute too cold. The next too warm. I got up wearily and ate breakfast. This time, I had a different waiter. He was all smiles and said "You alone?" I said " boyfriend couldn't make it this time..." and smiled. He was like "And he LET you come alone?" I looked Mr. Machismo in the eye and said "No one LETS me do anything...."  He said "Ah I see..."  He coulda spit in my coffee for all I know....but I had had it. I just wanted to enjoy my deep fried bacon and its salty goodness in peace.

I checked out and then the front desk clerk rang up my damages (for all I did w/ the spa and lobster, I only spent like $150 USD extra). He smiled and handed me my bill and I signed it. He goes.."Thank you for coming. Next bring "friend"?" At this point I was hoping his allusion and lingering on the  word "friend" he  meant a girlfriend....not a guy.

The driver came to get me...and again asked me "No man?" This time I didn't bother to answer.. were the SAME guy who picked me up the first time. I just put on my shades and squeezed next to a fat Mario Betalli look alike. The 80s tunes blasted and no one really said a word...that is until Whitney Houston came on. Then the ladies decided to talk  loud about "poor Whitney". I didn't chime in (which I am sure they were hoping I would)....I closed my eyes and prayed my headache would cease along the way.

I got my tickets which were pretty easy....took about an hour though. I decided to pick up some liquor at the duty free. I NEEDED some real deal tequila. When I asked to check on a price, the woman let out a nasty sigh. Yep...this trip needed to come to a close.

When I boarded the plane (again the only black person in First class), I looked up and the entire flight crew was black (except the pilots). Yep....I was heading home to the ATL. I squeezed next to an elderly white woman who decided to talk my head off.....I just nodded politely.

Then she did it......

She reached her hand out and touched my hair and said "Ive aways wondered how you do that....". At this point my blood was boiling and my headache was raging. I snatched my hair out her hands and said "It just grows...." and turned over, tried to play Words with Friends via the Wifi... and went to sleep.

So here were are, after navigating the maze of customs and delayed trains home, I, a chick FINALLY with a stamp in her passport, is at home now with a fever of 102. (LOL)..but I loved my vacation. Being the only black woman in certain situations was interesting...being single on top of that was a bit too much.

But I'd do it a heartbeat.

Next time...I'm going to Jamaica.......(maybe the Dexters and Winstons will be sympathetic about a mid-30's Puma traveling solo)


March 1, 2012

Thursday Tunes: Goapele - "Play"

So who is Goapele??? The former dread locked (*weeps*) vocalist from Oakland, CA, is a unique soul singer with a unique story.

 Borne Goapele Mohlabane,Goapele's South African father Douglas Mohlabane was an exiled political activist who struggled against the Apartheid System. Goapele's New York-born Israeli Jewish mother Noa[5] had been attending protests since the age of 12. Noa attended Friends World College and was studying in Nairobi, Kenya, where she met and married Douglas. Goapele and her older brother DJ Namane Mohlabane were raised in a California South African exile community. (Wikipedia, "Goapele")

 Her first album, Even Closer, was on heavy rotation on my CD player (yes..this was before I had an Ipod). Her song was "Closer", a song that really motivated me. Her follow up, "Change it All", feature some nice tracks like First Love".  She is just a positive the same vein as India.Arie.

 But this song?? WHEW! Goapele went straight for the sex.... as soon as the instrumental intro comes know this is not a game. She came ready to sex it up. I swear..... I wanna formulate some sort of pole dance routine to this.... It's a departure for Goapele...but she does it well.

My fav lyrics:
I wanna go, where you never been, 
This is not me trying to give in
Said you had a taste, but you really don't know
I think I can help what you're looking for, 
Cause this is what we're living for
I mean, this is what we're dying to do!


This is song is just ..well.."SEX" right now for me (LOL) I'm telling you all...get up on some won't be dissapointed.


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