What's that Ye? Baby these heels...

I have never been the type of chick to keep up with what season something came out in. i.e. These are from the 2009 Gucci Cruise Collection. *barf* And..so effin what...who keeps up with that stuff? I bet those who do can't tell you how many books there are in the new testament! And no, The Book of Prada doesn't count as one. I have also never been one to keep up with what season you're not supposed to wear things in. i.e. no white after labor day. When it is socially acceptable to wear boots v. sandals. Ahh, who cares. I don't even adhere to the light nail polish in the summer, dark in the winter rule. I wear what I want...when I want. I got better things to do than be worried about some alleged fashion rules. When I roll out of bed I grab the last thing I had on or whatever fits..and rock with it. That being said, I am not a self proclaimed "shoe girl". I believe this is the only attribute separating me from being Carrie Bradshaw. I typically like shoes that are cute, fit these narrow @$$ feet of mine, and don't hurt my dogs.  I wore my Louboutins last night, so you can probably hear them barking through your PC. *grrrr* I am notorious for putting a spare pair of flippies in my handbags in preparation for the old switcheroo later in the night. I guess it's the boughetto in me. Chile please, I will pull out my flats/throw those heels in my bag so fast you won't even see it happen. I have been in some of the fanciest places in these great states in my $2 old navy flip flops. Hey, everybody situation ain't the same! Those who know me know the deal! But, like any chick with a healthy estrogen level, a nice shoe will catch my eye. I think these joints are hot...nothing like the Obama sneakers, but still hot!

One hell of a night!

Ever imagine what it would be like in hell? I bet you have, you devil, you. I liken hell to a bad night out at the club. You know the night. The one that never ends. Starts off with intentions on having one drink and heading home, but after a series of unfortunate events you end up out until 5am. Yeah, one of those nights.

Upon entering hell, every woman is charged $900 in exchange for a pair of Christian Louboutins (the red bottoms would be fitting in hell). Loubous are THE must have status symbol of today's relevant woman and they happen to be the most uncomfortable shoes I have ever owned. Only in hell would you gladly pay $1K to be that uncomfortable. Thanks Christian! The Hell welcome committee also tosses everyone a pair of Spanx on their way in. I remember when I donned my first pair of Spanx. I was in Miami (of all places). Things were looking up (especially my butt which was being held a good 5 inches higher in the air than usual by the new age girdle). Then I ate....a. lot. Now...not being accustomed to the restrictions of the Spanx...I may have overindulged a bit. I have always had a very healthy appetite, so this wasn't anything out of the ordinary. BUT, the Spanx and my belly conspired against me...in a revolt of epic proportions. I look back fondly on that day as what will go down in history as the worst day of my tummy's life. Since then, I have learned to control the control tops. But, in hell...every girl's Spanx would be 1 size too small and squeeze so tight that circulation would be cut off once you wiggle into the evil contraption known as Spanx. Hell only has knock off handags.  Good luck with that.  You also have the following fragrance options...CK One, Designer Imposters -Primo, or White Diamonds.  Any one is pretty classy.  So it's a win - win.  Oh, since this is hell...you also got your hair highlighted with Sun In earlier that day...you have now managed to pull the few strands you have left into a banana clip - which is the only hair accessory available in hell. Hell was advertised as free before 11, but you get there at 10:45 and are charged $25. You have no cash, there is not ATM. Welcome to hell. You head over to the bar only to realize hell is limited to 4 drink options which are Colt 45, Fuzzy Navel wine coolers, Zima, or Boone's Farm. Pick your poison. It takes about 30 minutes to get one drink since hell's wait staff is none other than the same jerks you can currently catch waiting tables daily at Cyclone Anaya's in Midtown. Quite possibly the rudest people to ever take your order. My friends and I had a brief love affair with that place a few summers ago. There was not a Saturday afternoon that didn't catch us on the patio of Cyclone's. And although we were clearly regulars...they always managed to make us feel like the 1st black family to move to Vidor. I strongly dislike them. Glad to see they made it to hell. Thx, Mgt. You get your drink and saunter over to VIP, but it is a futile effort. VIP is impossible to get into in hell, so you and your entourage has been banished to the dance floor. Did I mention hell only plays songs everyone secretly loves but would never admit to knowing...like LMFAO's I'm in Miami Trick, Flo Rida's Head Right Round, and Miley Cyrus' Butterfly Fly Away. The ratio of women to men in hell is 62:2 (if you are a woman, it is vice versa if you are a man). It seems as though the only members of the opposite sex in the room are your ex's and the other party in any one night stand you've ever chose to partake in. C’mon son, it's hell. After you have thrown up in the bathroom, fell asleep in the DJ booth, and lost your cell phone (which never had service anyway...hello...this is hell! no bars in no places), you finally convince your friends to leave. On your way out of Club Hell, you realize your car has either been stolen, hit, or towed. If you are a certain "best friend" of mine, a fourth option is your car is in one piece, but you run out of gas on the freeway. LOL. Either way, this is hell...so good luck getting home.

Amber Rose: An Ode to Ambivalence

She's bold, she's crass...her boobs are too big and she has too much @$$. She chain smokes. Her boyfriend is a jerk (when the cameras are rolling). And she is quite possibly the only woman in history to have a spread in a high fashion magazine bent over in a pair of daisy dukes. You can typically catch her rocking a suit...sadly, not a three piece...she seems to  prefer birthday or cat. She must have stock in spandex. It's all she owns. She wears glasses at night, thongs to the beach, and white contacts on the red carpet. She doesn't mind being photographed in cages, a full frontal squat, on all fours, or taking a bottle of Hennessey to the head. She has too many tattoos and not enough hair. She used to be a lesbian but I guess Ye really doesn't care (he did say he'd do anything for a blonde dike...and she'd do anything for the limelight). Some days I think Kanye exploits the girl, other days I am certain she is exploiting herself! She has mastered the art of being seen and not heard. When was the last time (or first time for that matter) you have heard her utter a word? She's all wrong...but it seems so right. Despite the fact that she is Stripclub Chic...for some unexplainable reason...WE LOVE THIS GIRL. I am not sure when it happened. Definitely not sure how. But the world has stopped to smell the Amber Roses. Smells like Teen Spirit...with a dash of desperation. Or maybe a little like S-e-x Panther.  I love how Kanye takes her to fashion week in Paris...dresses her up in evening gowns...lets her rub elbows with the elite...but she always manages to make her way back to the gutter. It's so Pretty Woman of them.  If she ever has to choose between the pole and the high life, I hope Amber Rose takes the fairytale!

10 Things I Hate About You

Yeah right! I couldn't hate this chick if I tried.  I have an ongoing fascination with Victoria Bechkam aka Posh.  It started about 13 years ago when I saw the oddest video late one night on Mtv (back when they still showed videos).  There was so much going on.  Chicks flipping, dancing on tables, disturbing the peace...a wicked cool black chick with crazy hair, a red head with big boobs...but amidst it all, my eyes kept traveling back to the seemingly more reserved and fashion conscious chick in the bunch.  Who is this gal, I wondered.  Well...who the hell are these people was my 1st thought, but you get the idea.  I love you Posh...and here's why...

10.  You've made "soccer mom" cool again (wait, was it ever?).  You're quite possibly THE jazziest soccer mom on the planet. I salute you woman of genius.

9.  You don't like being called "Vicky".  I hate nicknames...so I found this tidbit to be quite interesting. Everyone is so lazy nowadays.  People will even find a way to shorten a nickname.  Call me by my gobment name!

8. You change your hairstyle, color, and length like folks change their drawers.  I dig it.  I've never seen a style I didn't like. 

7. Your kids have the most awesome names: Brooklyn, Romeo, and Cruz. How cool are they?

6. Your an author.  Not one...but two books in your repertoire. And as your resident thick chick...trust me, that extra half an inch makes all the difference in the world. Thanks for the suggestion!

5. You're not "too good" for the hood. I mean you DO have a son named Brooklyn.  But, seeing one of the most famous people in the UK do a Rocawear ad = cool feelings.  You made urban wear look...well...quite posh! 

4. You have a Hermes' Berkin bag for every day of the week. White...purple...burnt orange...pink. Who but you? And you carry them to the darndest place i.e. Football (aka soccer) games!

3. Your dress game is vicious! Style icon is the label you wear best. Undeniably one of the flyest chicks in the game. The heels...tha handbags...the haute couture...the hot to defness of it all is too much!

2. Your husband.  David Beckham.  I want to keep this thing respectable...so I will tread lightly....but this
man is BE-YOU-Tee-FULL.  If you ever want to trade dudes, I'm game. *peeks into your window for a glimpse of Becks*

1. You have successfully mastered the art of looking arroganltly above it all.  You always seem so over it, without coming across as uninteresting. It works for you.

Dirty Low Down Monkey With a Wig On

I went to bed last night telling myself I needed to blog about this week's episode of Real Housewives asap. When I woke up this morning, I heard that Kandi's fiancé had been killed. I took to Twitter like any respectable journalist would...and sure enough Kandi had confirmed the awful news. Since life can't be all fun and games (sometimes it's about guns n' roses)...I wanted to mention what happened before I recapped the episode. AJ's children and Kandi are in my thoughts today. With that being said....*how can one give a good segue out of that...all I can do is jump into it!*

*SMH* That NeNe almost outdid herself in the latest installment of The Real Housewives of Atlanta. I believe I may have been partaking in a cold beverage just about the time she called Kim a dirty low down monkey in a wig. As I wiped juice off my shirt, I realized NeNe is in fact insane. She is quite a character, that one. But let's rewind a bit. Since last week's episode was sort of a snoozer, I decided not to dedicate an entire blog to it. However, I would like to give it a few minutes of airtime to address "The Pocketbook Monologues". I was floored by the way that old lady blatantly swagger jacked The Vagina Monologues. LOL. Why do black people think you can change a few words around, add a bit of chocolate and walla....whole new idea! You can't. Also...if I heard "triangle between their thighs" one more time I was going to throw myself over the banister. And another thing, Sheree's portrait....*looks into camera* GIRL BYE! She looked so damn simple in that painting. She should have had James Evans Jr. paint her! Anyway...in this week's episode...they recorded Tardy for the Party...then debuted it at Kandi and Kim's birthday party. The song went over well. Kim still can't sing, but Kandi needs to pull her little friend to the side and explain to her the invention of Autotune...cause Kim seems to think that is her real voice on that song. Honey you're a fool! What else happened? Oh, Kim got engaged...to a married man. *scratches head* Is that even legal? Ha! Kim has two young daughter's and proclaimed to the world, "I have no problem with dating a married man". Boy, Mother of the Year is going to be a close call this year! Since the blogosphere is already going wild on that one...I will leave it alone. Did anything else of note take place? Oh, Kandi performed. I actually like her song, I Fly Above. Kind of catchy. Her outfit at her performance was rather questionable...but the girl is in mourning...so I will let her alone. Sheree and Dwight have thrown caution (and commonsense) to the wind and decided to team up for the SHE by Sheree fashion show. I think it's going down between them next week...so put a bookmark there as Nikole would say. Sheree took the idiot stick figure with no soul ("Tania" is what she answers to I hear) to NYC with her to look at her samples. The samples were abysmally ordinary. I don't understand what Sheree is trying to pull here but I guess we will just have to wait and see...

I'm feeling some kind of way as Paco says...like the season started off really good and is sort of fizzling out.  Somebody better get slapped or shift a wig soon or these chicks may not see a season 3!

Before we go...did you happen to catch Dwight running like a caught slave in his spandex onesie and heels in the preview for next week's episode? OMG. If you missed that magical moment, grab your boogie board and surf over to bravotv.com STAT! 

Lurking in the shadows...it's a bird...it's a plane...nope, it's just Solange!

As an honorable mention to my ode to Bey, I thought it only right to give a little shine to the other Knowles girl. You know, what's her name. Oh yeah...Solange...aka Solo Star *snickers*. I happen to like Solange and her music. She's got chutzpah! Bey once said in an interview that she wishes she were more like her little sister...says Solange is feisty...tells it like it is and is not afraid to be 100% herself! My friend Tolu argues that Solange is artistically more creative than Bey...I tend not to agree but can respect her argument. Bey is an entertainer in every sense of the word. Solange ain't got enough stamps in her passport to be compared to Bey just yet --probably not ever. I would liken Bey to a Hollywood summer blockbuster, while Solange is like a good indy flick that has a small, but loyal fan base. So depending on whether you are a main stream music lover or an underground feign...you might tend to prefer one over the other. I don't dare compare the two. They are mutually exclusive in my book. But, I would like to take a minute to address this misconception that Solange is "not cute". Admittedly, I am probably a little biased here since they say we favor. Solange is too purdy! She just doesn't look like Bey. Beyonce is a miniature Tina. Solange may or may not look more like Matthew...what's it to ya!? I think she is a very cute girl. And I do like that she gets a little high class gangsta on folks too.  Remember when she got hood...you know HOOD...on that reporter bc she though she was going to ask her about Jay? That was awesome. Trot over to You Tube if you missed it. Very boughetto at all times. Another thing we obviously have in common. The thing I liked the most is how when the reporter cleared up lil Bey's misunderstanding of what happened, Solange responded with a nonchalant, dry "oh ok". Hehhehe. Oh...also worth mentioning...I happen to know a real life (recovering) Solange Stan. Can you believe that!? Won't mention any names...JENNIFER...but yes, Solo has stans too. Mom and Dad should be so proud. My one gripe is sometimes Solange gets a little too Lady GaGa with her 'fits. But at least she's skinny and has a swagger (worked SWAGGER in just for you Jen, I know how much you love the word) with those little outifts of her. Solange...I salute you. You are eternally in your sister's shadow...yet you STILL have managed to get your shine on! Gon' girl....

And it all started on Beyonceworld.net......

Like any good Stan would, I like to keep a watchful eye on the comings and goings of my girl Bey. But, what begins with the best intentions always seems to end in despair. A few years ago a friend of mine (Tasha!) banished me from visiting the illustrious .commer that is beyonceworld.net. Said I was catching feelings on the site. Couldn't handle the fabulousness of the life that is Bey G. Knowles'. I would start out praising, but end up pouting. And it was true. I couldn't help myself. Last night, as I reached what I like to call the end of the internet, I casually sauntered on over to beyonceworld.net. To my dismay, nothing had changed. Still the whole shyt of the whole night. Still married to him *swoons*. Still globetrotting. Still flyy as f*ck. What started out ooooh, ended up ewwww. Is it just me or is Bey having the best week ever...every. single. week. *sigh* I mean how can one chick have it all? Intense beauty...just enough booty (no homo)...more money than God...a supportive family...and the flyest dude ever made (what up Jay!). If I didn't love her so much, I would secretly wish for some sort of hidden affliction. Maybe bacne, a suspicious mole, perhaps an 11th toe. She has it all. And she had the audacity to have actually worked for all of the things she has. The gall! :) Actual work...not like the "work" Kim and Paris have done for their alleged "fame". No offense Kim...I heart you too. Paris...you're dead to me (see cottage cheese in a trash bag remark for reasons). I mean...Bey you know I am obsessed with you er...I love you....but dang man......*folds arms*. It just doesn't seem fair for so much awesomeness to be packed into one girl. And the proverbial cherry on top...is that all of the best designers in the world send Bey the best pieces from their collections every year. Her life is an endless room of free swag. One of the only women in this galaxy who can actually afford all of the finer things in life gets them for the low, low price of absolutely free. Where is the fairness in this world I ask you? Make no mistake about it...I am a proud, card-carrying Beyonce Stan. I just get a little sidetracked every once and again. It's the Bey Effect. I'm feeling a bit like Icarus. Last night I got too close to the sun! But I digress. Bey...you are the greatest. You keep us all on our toes. They wub to hate on you... and I love to watch them try. Keri Hilson and Amerie *rolls eyes* had the NERVE to come at you sideways. They should be waiting in line to kiss your ring! Oh...and P.S. for Amerie to claim you jacked her swag...not to mention her producer...teehehe...she is looking a lot like you in her (where is NeNe when you need her?) ALTER EGO PHOTOSHOOT. She gets two thumbs down for that one. But you know what they say Bey. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And Keri...you so weak/whack for trying to pretend like you weren't firing shots at Bey on that remix girl...if you are going to do it...DO IT. Don't throw a rock then hide your hand. Who knew Keri was a studio gangsta!? Well...I was feeling a bit J...about Bey and Jay....but it has passed....see all I have to do is talk this thing through....and all is right with the world again. See Tasha...I told you I could handle going on that site! I mean I was out on the ledge for a while....but at least the breeze was nice! I'll catch you good folks later, I'm going to head on over to beyonceworld.net to see what I have missed in the last 24. Brunch with Obama? Tea with the Queen perhaps? Whatever it is...I'm sure I can handle it!