Welcome to the Good Life.

Typing from a Type A, strives of being a bad bitch.



Thursday, December 31, 2009

The end of the decade.

It is gonna be official...a new year and a new decade. I am excited, relieve and optimistic for 2010 (I call it twenty-ten) as prospects and possibilities are miles away from daunting. The trippiest things that has happened these past few weeks are soooo incredibly rich in meaning, value and insight...the other night, I watched the Mike Tyson documentary and recieved auditory greatness from big Mike. That film is a hybrid of sensitivity, passion, self-connection, and reflectiveness, which encompasses how I feel about myself. For instance, Mike's telling of his childhood provided insight to the tramatic motivations that produces strong personalities and self-worth...being made fun of for being fat, having your shit thrown onto the back of a truck by some bitchass bullies, and inhumanely witnessing your pet pidgeon's breathe one last time as a sick person squeezes its soul...fuck the dumb shit. Money is motivation but hunger to earn self-respect will drive anyone to the top..."If I could be like Mike". I was mos def reminded about my life history and the experiences that built my heart of steel magnolias; partly tough yet delicate. The past decade has reminded me of how I was built...As I briefly reflect and remember the past decade, I can instantly recall my high and low moments, the lessons learned from shady bitches and insecure men, and getting by through the two loses who were my love. And from my recollections, I am able to make the connection to why I shined brightly in certain aspects and dealt with the drama without backing down...I was the same kid who got punked on during recess and who's presence was never graced. That shit will toughen you up like a muthafucka. Once I reached a certain age of autonomy for controlling how people recieve and treat me, I never went back to the same timid little girl. There were times when I got knocked down and fell into despair, but it was shaken off within the reasons for time. Out of the past decade, I have done shit that I am still beaming about. I graduated college and even got the goddamn gobernator's autograph on my diploma. SICK. I brought myself back to life from the deadly alcoholic state that I was swimming and drowning in. My love that engages me has engaged himself to me. Family business will stay only a business until (I really silently pray) stars guide them to what they want and need. And friendships are not suppose to me complicated, competitive, and shallow. So for 2010, my forward momentum will always have a backbone of last decade + the little girl with the fucked up childhood = Womanopoly. Pizzease.

Music Therapy: "Money to Blow" Birdman feat. Drake & Weezy -"I am what everybody in my past don't want me to be".

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Target: Where Philosophical Epiphanies Arise.

I never leave empty-handed when I journey to my store Target, especially this time. When I went there last week with my main man, I ended up leaving with a shirt from the clearance rack, eye drops for applying eye shadows wet, some snacks, and a self-created realization, free of charge. While we were conversing throughout Target's cosmetic section, the topic of mothers & body image/issues came up, coincidently, in an area where abundant supplies of beautification products are displayed. As I unhappily recall the negative remarks my mother made about my body's shape & size, I, with provocation, spoke out-loud, "Mothers are the poison to their daughter's self-esteem"...and its true. Can you remember when your mom commented, criticized, reflected, constructively criticized, scrutinized, picked-on, made fun of, poked fun of, and unintentionally hurt your feelings/self-esteem/self-worth? Obviously, I do remember. Whenever my mother made comments about my weight or what I was eating, it made me overly self conscious about how my image appeared to cultural expectations and Hollywood's expectations. And although I am wiser, college bound, independent, and self-surviving, the little girl's mental tolerance still exists. SO, as it might be projection, the reason for my mother's "worry" on how her daughter looks is still damaging, like air's presence to exposed steel. The only way I cope with the corroded pieces of my self-esteem is by understanding my mother's past, our cultural stereotypes, female objectification in society, and remembering my values that I set for my life. At the end of the day, when the lights are out, body image becomes only what you can recall in the light...if you see yourself in a positive illumination, a FUCK size charts according to a MANufacture, a unique & individualized illumination, then you are on the path to contentment. Am I on this path? Absolutely. Since I am generally most content with having attainable goals, and losing weight is part of a realistic goal, I feel okay...especially when its dark, as I still dream in color form. Pizzeace.

Music Therapy: "It Kills Me" by Melanie Fiona-"And it kills me, to know how much I really love you..."

Sunday, December 6, 2009

All I Want is a Hoola Hoop.

It's holiday time now and what comes to mind are arrangements of bright twinkling lights from a color wheel, sugary goodies of peppermint & allspice, shopping, numerous ladies wearing UGGS, and the cold days and nights. Also, the obvious and pain in the neck thing about the holidays is shopping for presents that will not go to me...I usually feel perplexed, challenged and irritated when I buy presents for others because I do not know what is the "perfect" gift for the recipient...I know the thought counts but fuck Hallmark; presents make us happy, especially if its something we wanted and got it for free. At least as a savior, I have Secret Santa and White Elephant events every year to relieve me of this petty stress I create by being overly conscientious. But seriously, all I really want is a hoola hoop in the nonliteral sense. Because for this holiday year, I just want my main man, friends and familia to be all good health-wise, emotionally content, and presently active in my socialization. No shady shams and tragedies. Please. That's my spirit for Christmas. However, if I could have any sky is the limit gift this year, it would be a trip around the world, to countries that have strong cultural traditions, street food vendors, and gorgeous natural surroundings. In the meantime, I will continue to travel vicariously through Anthony Bourdain's travels. Pizzease!

Music Therapy: Boys II Men, "Let it Snow"- "Hey, it's another Christmas holiday. It's a joyous thing let the angels sing, cause we're together..."

Sunday, November 15, 2009

The Down House.

I feel like for the past 2 weeks, I've been living at the Down House. It's Charles Darwin's heezy...the place where he worked on his "Theory of Evolution". Anyhow, I've been physically detached, just a smidge, from social reality...incognito but with the hella. The intention is madd natural and had me thinking about the reasons why it is my natural nature...I assume from my great sense of self-awareness, I thrive on breathes of fresh solo dolo air. Shit, air gets in everywhere (Pootie Tang). From my chilling solidarity, I slept full 8+ hours, did 1 hour cardios twice a day, and gained confidence in my purpose, self-worth, and independent productivities. Sometimes, hybernating at the Down House, allows someone to find the inspirations, the calm, the peaceful state of mind one needs to fulfill personal soul-assuring spirituality. Because chilling at the Down House, low sensory stimulation, less materialistic, less superficial, self-respect, non-existing superiority and zero personality disorders resides here. So as we all are down like the economy and can't afford extravagant, unnecesary, "I wanna travel and do shit so I can post it on my facebook to get bitches to envy my percieved tightness", its very comforting and its a beautiful assurance to follow the hellayellowbrickroad to "no place like home". Maybe I'll be able to develop the "Theory of Hella...".

Moving along like a gang of picnic ants stealing the food from a picnic basket (I remember this from an old skool cartoon...I wanna say Yogi Bear but I'm not sure), I have been trying to get in shape for fabulousity, and staying good from beinging a shopping whore (although I am boarderlining it if you consider my Jimmy Choo purchases, Sephora buys and Cyber Mondays).

Its now the time to jumpstart the early New Years Resolutions...no hydrogenated oils, meaning chippies, which are my vices, shooogar, blame-it-on-the-alcohol, work out to you pass out, hungry =displeasurable yet satisfactionary results, bitches who do not honor reciprocity will get no love, bookworming it, and plan my wedding. Ha. I guess my priorities are madd clear...Get Skinny or Die Trying, then get hitched.

Lastly, sharing my passionate makeup hobbie, I purchased NYC liquid eyeliner in black pearl for $2 and it works good for a cheapy brand...just apply a thin layer and gradual winged out techique to prevent crackles (for realz!). Also, Target has E.L.F. products for the holidays for uno dinero, which includes an real decent eyeshadow brush and liquid eyeliner too...just don't get the pen form because the color is madd faint.

As I Leave this bitch, here is a look that I did which was inspired by Sephora's Candy Colored Eyes poster:




So blend blend blend and stay warm. Pizzease.

Music Therapy: Forever by Drake, Kanye, Lil Wayne & Em.
"It may not mean nothin to yall but understand nothin was done for me. So I don't plan on stoppin at all, I want this shit forever...Last name ever, first name greatest. like a sprained ankle boy, I aint nothing to play with".

Friday, November 6, 2009

Bag that Hoe's face.

So yesterday, I went to my favorite place of all time, FOREVER21. My main man will walk me to it and leave to shop at Game Stop. I saw quite a few cool things, such as cheetah print hooded vests, every other piece of clothing with sequins, and Disney & Peanuts graphic prints. I ended up only buying a purple dress for only $12.50, shown hizzere:






After my purchase, my main man (I will refer to him as that for now on) met me at the Forever21 accessory store. I was hella thrown off when I made my initial steps inside since they rearrange shit drastically...headbands are now hung-up, not in table compartments and there are madd bowls filled with chunky plastic bracelets. The shoe game at Forever is decent, but the prices are a tinge more for trendyware. After a brisk browse, I only copped a colorful feather headband, which is fun and jazzy:
Now here goes my reference to my titled blog. As we were walking out of Forever, some breezy walks in. She ain't some stranger either. This bitch is in fact my weaksauce Ex's girlfriend, the one he dumped me over for...the one who homewrecked, at least now for my benefit. She wanted to be "Activity Partners" with him and felt that she was "ghetto, but not ghetto like (me)". So a word of advice for all my beautiful ladies, STAY READY. I mean this with L-O-V-E. Cuz thank goodness Lord JEEZUS, my hair was neat, I was dressed decently, and my makeup was fabulous that nite, unlike that hoebag...This bitch looked like she got beat-up by the Chinatown Muni Bus Lady ("You Stupid!") and was dressed like a 12 year old, Section 8 resident . Should I disect this bitch's appearance for pleasurable gain? Fuck it, its my blog.
So this bitch is wearing a light blue Hello Kitty Tee (I luv Hello Kitty, but not on fat fugly hoes) and some brown khaki pants. I didn't get to peep her shoe game but I bet top dollar that it ain't worth jockin...In addition, this bitch ain't got no makeup on, she gained 10lbs on her chin and really, she ain't even worth pimpin out.
My reaction to seeing her (this was the very first time I physically saw her since 3 years ago, when my Ex left me for her) was like, "Damn. This bitch is not aging gracefully". At that moment, all I did was sternly stare at in her wack ass eyes for the whole time till we passed by each other. Then, I told my main man that it was her, the bitch who deliberately hollered at my Ex while I was with him, and hated on me by saying she was way better than me. Bitchassness. It really made my nite to see this bitch all jacked and wacked up, like an ugly duckling that turned into an uglier duckling. Bitch, I am Gangsta. Like I tend to say as my mantra, "Haters Love Me". Pizzease!
Music Therapy: Kid Cudi – Soundtrack 2 My Life "I super paranoid like a sixth sense, since my father died I ain’t been right since, and I tried to piece the puzzle of the universe, split an eighth of shrooms just so I can see the universe..."

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Kaboom! Guess who stepped in the room.

I hope by blogging, I attain and obtain a moment of clarity, perspective, and mental & mood therapy...Change is constant and I am constantly open to changes, even if its never good...I'll go get 'em.
So I am on dinner break now and want to express the importance of venting. It rids the mind of toxic thoughts and cleanses your soul's assurance. Finding someone good to vent to is challenging because you have to feel secure and trusting of that listening ear. I am fortunate and lucky to have my main man who never lets me down...that's why I let him put a ring on it. Another great means to vent is like being in the lab with a pen & a pad, tryna get this damn label off...hence "A hella Piece of Strange".
Moving on, I had an interesting Halloween. Not only did I get a hang-over, I finally found my cojones over my Spooky weekend...I know I am madd tolerant of things and I know when shady shit is happening in my socialization. I've heard of it going down and once considered that maybe I might be in the Matrix of Slim Shady. However, I've confirmed that its more than a reality; its one's way of life. So what do you do when that shit is sitting right on your lap, sinking your heart and boiling your blood. Does Wayne Brady have to choke a bitch? The perpetual cycle of Shady doings will continue, even though I give it the benefit of doubt...I say to myself, "Oh, maybe this shit is happening just this one time", like a one hit wonder. However, shit doubled over and now furiates me. I will now stay ready and call shit out as I see it, regardless of remorse and regrets for hurting others' feelings...cuz if you think about it, Shady doesn't have remorse or regrets for hurting you either. Shady doings, beware. Pizzeace!