Banter on Tulips and a Tribe Called Quest, Jay-Z and John Coltrane, Outkast and Othello.


Pie = Life?

Somehow I thought I'd come up as Sweet Potato. Suppose not.

You Are Cherry Pie

You're the perfect combo of innocent and sexy. Those who like you enjoy a contradiction
What Kind of Pie Are You?


Of Raindeer and Raindrops

It's Christmas. Which means that once again I am freezing my petutie off near the Great Lakes, preparing for the ensuing feast. And, oh yeah, the gift/curse that is family. After my flight touched down yesterday morning, I arrived in Detroit Metro. The road to the house was a white that seemed to whisper "Jersey girl, wasn't it smart to pack those extra heels and no snow boots? Boo boo for you. lol" A roadside thermometer read "27 F." That means California dreamin for Michigan. Perhaps I lucked up. Only the next week will tell.

Before I knew it I was at my grandmother's. After greeting me with a warm hug and engaging in the initial excited let-me-have-a-look-at-you-i-haven't-seen-you-in-a-year chit chat, the divafied octogenarian woman that is my mother's mother told me to hang my coat next to her mink. She then stood back, took a sharp look at the winter caboose I am sporting and says that it "wouldn't hurt for me to miss a meal or two." Lol. Grandmothers, gotta love 'em. Well, at least she didn't greet me with one of those Diahann Caroll "Get that ring before spring" speeches. She'll save that for my older cousins. Lol

Today was all about the lazy, or... lazier than average me. I woke up at 11 a.m. and went to the den to watch Tony Danza-Martha Stewart-The View. Man, I miss Wayne Brady. None of these fools can hold a candle to the football-head, master singer/actor/comedian. The View was tolerable, but those chattering women can sure work a nerve at times. And poor Star. Her skin looks like it's running away from her face. Her hair is hooked though.

After I finally extricated myself from my pjs, I hung out with a cousin today who's a freshman at a Massachusetts college. We chatted a bit about classes and his pursuits on the JV basketball team. Then, as he went into explaining life as a freshman during exam week, it dawned on me how officially old I am getting. I started my freshman year in 1997... yikes. This spring, I will go back to campus for my fifth reunion. People will have kids, mortgages, 401 k payments. Yikes.

Last night, I went to a party with an aunt. Thrown at some swanky riverfront venue by some city big wig. Lots of politicians, real estate brokers, investment dudes. All pushing 50 +. Hooray for me. Lol. After attending such party, I came to two conclusions. 1) I must have been put on earth to attract A) old dudes and B) crazies. 2) After you've seen one old dude gyrating his hips and doing the Detroit Hustle... you have truly seen it all.

If you can move that picture from your head long enough to read this line, know that I am wishing you a Merry Merry Christmas, Happy Fake Afrocentric Libation holiday (I mean Kwaanza. Ashe, Ashe! Lol) and Happy Hanukkah. Love always, Mahogany Elle.