um...about that rumor.

soon come.

a couple notes:

1) if you're looking for the "12 days of crunkmas" scroll down. (it's wack, but i promised.)
2) there will be a rumor on monday, dec. 26. other than that, no promises. a homegyrl has to do double duty in c-town, and in fort (everything is easy baby, just live it to) weezy (baby), indiana. what can i say? once a child of a broken home, always a child of a broken home. i'ma holla at y'all after the new year.

and finally...

this weekend's essay


simply: who you trying to kiss under the mistle toe?

(i'll tell you after you tell me.)

enjoy whatever holiday celebration you choose.

sm.

the sum-n-saf half take 4: holiday edition.
this one's a two-fer. first we offer reflections on being bobby brown: christmas with the browns. and second, sum-n-saf present: how to get through a black family christmas without getting cut.

reflections on being bobby brown:

• just when you thought whitney's wig couldn't get worse, she hits you again with that shit on tilt. nippy lookin' like she kept her wig on from the bet 25 show and/or a hurricane katrina victim. sum-n-saf say: whitney got a holiday pass from rehab. she needs 8 more weeks to get that sexy all the way right.
• bobbi kris suffers from acute hilary banks syndrome. note: how to spot a black girl with hbs: blue eye shadow, unstyled weave, avuncular speech pattern, and she brings that one white friend to all the family functions.
• bobbi kris is on her nicole richie: slowly withering down to a wizened white woman.
  
• note to white people: even when you are singing christmas carols as best you can (i.e. pronouncing all of your vowels, and ensuring your mouth remains in that "o" shape), black people will add a beat and dance.
• despite rehab bobby and nippy still got their choreography down. now that's love. black love. for dat ass.
  
• good to see bobby freed himself from his shoe.
  
• despite bobby's example, DO NOT TELL KIDS THERE IS NO SANTA CLAUS. black people need something to believe in besides the makiavelli theory, r. kelly's innocence, and that magic johnson actually has aids.
  

and now...

how to get through a black family christmas without getting cut (or shot)


by sum-n-saf, your resident race women.

1. do not bring your new girlfriend to christmas dinner if you know your sister (or your mama) invited your baby's mama.
   
2. do not invite your brother's (or son's) baby's mama to christmas dinner.
   
3. if you've gained ten lbs. since last christmas, you're going to be asked when you're due. don't get mad. get a diet.
   
4. if you and your boyfriend have been together for more than three years, folks is gonna grab your left hand, see the ring finger still has no bling, and walk away without saying a damn thing.
   
5. do not come out while your reverend uncle with the arsenio hall as reverend brown in coming to america jheri curl is cutting the ham. your ass will get stabbed with the ginsu knife he is using to slice the holiday swine.
6. your christmas budget for lil man should not exceed your rent. folks on public assistance are not exempt from this rule.
   
7. in order to help you with number five: infants cannot play with toys.
   
8. infants also don't need jordans. that's why they asses be flat-footed and shit.
   
9. you need to purchase your secret santa gift before christmas. telling your cousin you got him/her on the 15th is not acceptable.
   
10. compliment your auntie on her three-dimensional, multi-fabric christmas sweater.
    
11. regifting is only allowed on a two year rotation; do not give someone the gift they gave you. that's just bad manners.
    
12. do not buy one play station for all the kids--especially if you're gonna be the one playing it. buy the chirruns their own gifts, please.
    
13. keep the kids away from uncle chester.
14. keep the kids away from your cousin tyrone's jacket. one of them will get shot.
    
15. keep your crackhead cousin away from the gifts.
16. how to avoid violence at your christmas dinner:no card games; no dominoes; no dozens, cracking, jonin', etc.; make sure the above mentioned cousin tyrone's car is sandwiched between two others, and keep the drapes drawn. your shit will get shot up if niggas drive by and recognize his vanity plate on the cutlass (that's midwest right thurr, nigga).
17. make sure big mama made the potato salad (kings of comedy swipe).
18. make sure (grand)daddy gets the big piece of chicken (chris rock swipe).
    
19. pick two meats. ham, chicken, turkey, and ribs is completely and utterly unnecessary.
    
20. only one pig side item, please.
    
21. and while we're speaking of the swine, no more than 2 disgusting delicacies, please. there is really no need for giblets, gizzards, pig's feet, and chitterlings. really, black people, slavery is over. we don't have to eat like that anymore.
    
22. do not offer your nation of islam cousin--or his wife, fatima--any of the sides. everybody knows there is a hamhock, bacon grease, or both in everything, including the green bean casserole.
    
23. re alcoholic beverages: there is a two drink limit.
    
24. even if he ain't put in, give your uncle some crown. he just got paroled after all.
    
25. club rules do apply: if you are a rowdy drunk, you will be ejected.
    
26. no text messaging during the prayer.
    
27. speaking of cell phones, no christmas pictures on them, please. buy a damn camera.
    
28. don't try caroling with nigs. they don't know all the words.
    
29. and while we're on caroling, do not throw snow balls at the high skool choir who comes to your door. that's just bad christmas etiquette.
    
30. if the door to the coat room is closed, that means two people--who shouldn't be--are fucking. or lil man is taking a nap. keep your aforementioned crackhead cousin away from the coat room.
    
31. don't nigga rig the christmas lights, especially if the tree is real. if you do, your shit will be dylan.
    
32. cover any bald spots in the tree with tinsel.
    
33. if you decorate your tree in green and gold, do not, under any circumstances say that green is for money, and gold is for honeys, because that's mad urban contemporary (comma) yo.

until next year, have a sum-n-saf christmas.

though this has been not a very popular feature on my blog (sorc 10 was genius, nigga!), i feel compelled to try again. the following is prolly the longest snippet ever. not just because the whole convo was mad funny (comma) yo (it was), but because it also is a very nice example of the relationship between my mother, sister, and me (or is it i?).

warning: this shit is crude.

snippets of a random conversation

take 13

summer: whatup?

mom: chillin'. i'm calling because i have a question. nala, stop that! [sounding a bit frustrated] i'm asking you because nobody else will tell me. so after janelle [mi hermana] wouldn't tell me, i said, 'summer will tell me.'

summer: aight. hit me.

mom: [very earnestly, innocently] what's tea bagging?

summer: it's [this is a family blog, nigga!].

mom: oh. that's it?

summer: yeah. why wouldn't anyone tell you?

mom: well, what had happened was, adam [her former employee. i think my mother is having a love affair with a younger white man, but i ain't one to gossip, so you ain't heard it from me.] and i were having breakfast at bob's [bob evans. moms has her own slang.], and when the waitress asked me what i wanted to drink, i said i wanted hot water and a lemon. she asked me if i'd like some tea, and i said, 'no tea bag.' adam laughed, and i asked him why. he asked me if i knew what tea bagging was, and i said no, but he wouldn't tell me. he said i'd have to ask one of my kids. so i asked janelle, and she wouldn't tell me. she said cody [mi hermana's novio] would tell me. so she called cody, and i asked him, but he wouldn't tell me. so i said i'd ask dad [strong, silent type. not one to talk openly about the get down], but they were all like, "no!!!!" so i figured i'd ask you.

summer: leave it to a lesbian.

mom: i know, right? i guess i need to get another copy of the karma sutra.

janelle [in the background]: mom!

mom: what? i got a copy of the karma sutra. i don't know how i ever raised such sexually inhibited children.

summer: i'm not a prude.

mom: well, janelle is. what janelle? you can do it, but you can't talk about it? [like, yeah, she started chastising her right there on the phone.]

summer: you are ridiculous.

[...]

mom: you know, i'm responsible for the inspirational reading this month for church.

summer: oh god.

mom: and i talked about whitney houston.

summer: what's wrong with you?

mom: i talked about how we should appreciate people for their gifts in spite of their faults. they laughed.

summer: because you're ridiculous.

[...]

mom: do you know where a dog's vagina is?

summer: yeah.

mom: can you show me?

summer: will nala let us?

mom: she let me take a urine sample [at the vet's office].

summer: ok. do you have anything else important to say or ask?

mom: um, no.

summer: aight. peace.

start a rumor monday...










jesus: the interview

last week, fecundmellow was able to catch up with the ever elusive santa claus and get a pretty nice interview. now, just less than a week before the celebration of his birthday, we were able to hang out with the homeboy, hey-seuss. he is the reason for the season, you know.

fecundmellow: mr. christ, before we begin, i'd just like to say happy birthday.
jc: daddy bless thee. feel free to call me baby jeezy.

fecundmellow: baby jeezy?
jc: christ the savior is born.

fecundmellow: he is risen, nigga.
jc: wordeth.

fecundmellow: tell me about this new name, baby jeezy.
jc: a new incarnation, if you will. sort of like diddy, dig? i'll reveal my new name officially when my album drops.

fecundmellow: tell us about that.
jc: it's a 5 mic-er, i doubteth not. it's called ready to die.

fecundmellow: an homage to biggie?
jc: no, an homage to me.

fecundmellow: but already? i mean, your debut was released just this last spring. is the public ready for a follow-up so soon?
jc: one must always be ready for my second coming. the material on this album was too hot to sit on. besides, it's the holiday season, and much of what i'm spitting is inspired by that.

fecundmellow: how so?
jc: most of the tracks are sampled from holiday songs and what not. plus, dem wisemen did most of the production. their production is more blessed than the meek. 'specially the frankincense and myrrh remix of 'what child is this?' shit is bananas (comma) yo. but we really needed to push the album release date up due to leaks on the internet and whatnot.

fecundmellow: is that mary magdalene singing the hook on 'o holy night'?

[temporary intern spills coffee on her lap] jesus!

jc: yes?

intern: oh, my bad.

fecundmellow: [sighs] last week i talked to santa claus. and off the record, he told me he had a lot of love and respect for you. despite that, the publik paints a picture of the two of you beefing. do you have any response to that?
jc: claus is my nigga. we different, but we got similar struggles, dig? folks forget about us for most of the year; folks believe in us, but have never seen us; and, most people think we're white. so that whole beef thing, you know, it's bogus. the publik, the media created it. i mostly got beef with these rappers, you know--and not because of the jesus pieces. nigs be trying to cop my shit like i ain't looking. take eminem. my crew is the original d-12, and that nigga act like he ain't know. feel me?

fecundmellow: i feel you. any chance you drop a freestyle for us before we end this interview, baby jeezy?
jc: word up.

yuh yo/yo/yo...
when drummer boy drops the beat/it's game over/
recognize real, nigga/i'm the true j-hova
moreover/me and the saints march like straight soldiers/
believe in me/live eternally/playa i told ya/
us manger niggas we bolder/
ice we rock be colder/
weight of the world we shoulder/
we play hands and never fold (unh)/
streets is paved with gold (unh)/
i and i will save your soul (unh)/
greatest story ever told (unh)/
b-jeez, nigga...

fecundmellow: word up. that shit was dylan, son!**
jc: father and holy spirit. [gives summer m. a pound.]




*dylan: hot like fiyah. (yeah, like making the band 2 and chappelle's show. if you need more help than that, ask nick.)

this weekend's essay: thank you for being a friend.

sum, saf, nahmix

golden girls is my all-time favorite tv show for more than just life according to sophia patrillo, the fact that i see myself in dorothy, blanche's sexual freedom, or rose's pleasant naivete; it's more than their timeless humor, or the fact that it's the greatest. sitcom. of. all. time. and. eternity. plus. forever. and. a day. i also love gg because of the kind of friendship you get to witness on the tv screen.

my love for the show, along with saf's recent repatriation to the mistake on the lake (sum-n-saf half will return once she gets settled) got me thinking about the real life homies i've met while living in the chi. i don't make friends easily. often, i don't make friends at all. but, i've been fortunate enough to meet some cool folks while getting grown in the city of wind.

it took me over a year to get used to life on my own. i graduated, left indiana, came to the chi, got my own place, and started grad skool simultaneously. what can i say? i like my trauma all at the same time. my homegyrl candace really helped me out. we met when we were sixteen; we were roommates during a summer program for allegedly gifted black kids. we fell in and out of touch as we finished high skool and moved on to college (purdon't [me] and spelman [her]), and by the time i moved, she had already returned to chicago. she helped me find my first place--which was literally around the corner from her, and invited me to her fam's sunday dinner every week. from late nights watching and trying to get on qvc (we're both insomniacs) to introducing me to home run inn (the greatest pizza ever), candace will always be a dear old pal, and one of my closest friends. i mean really, only one other person has been dealing with my crazy ass and my various incarnations (yo, candace remembers me skinnier, with a relaxer, and, uh, totally straight) longer.

as i contemplated dropping out of skool and moving into my parents' basement, my fellow skoolmate rrrrachel helped a homegyrl stay sane. she's the best ever. during our first year we'd watch chappelle's show and talk about how both of us didn't really belong in our program. during our car pools to and from skool we had long talks about whatever, discovering that we had more than a love of literature--and erykah badu and andre 3000 and certain profs in the department-- in common. fortunately, we're both still here. and we've decided that it's not because we aren't smart enough that we're such outsiders in our department, but that we're too smart to be fucked with. (whatever. it works for us.)

by third year i met that black beyotch, saf, and nahmix. we first hung out at a lauryn hill concert, and have seen the mighty mos, the savior jean grae, the roots (how many times now, nahmix?), and a ton of other concerts and plays. if saf is my creative homie and shit talking partner, nahmix is my moral center (you know, like in a novel). saf and i have a tendency to hype each other up, talking about how live each other is. on some, "yeah, nigga, we should do that shit." but nahmix will chime in and be like, "um, ladies, isn't that illegal?" anyway, saf is like one of my favorite writers, and i really think she's got one of the sharpest minds (and tongues) i've ever had the opportunity to come across. chloe morrison is also our favorite scribe (no, not faulkner, nigga. more on that next week.) . i've said this before, but nahmix is mad focused and disciplined, which i have a lot of respect for, as i possess neither of these things; she's also just really cool. and, she hooks me up with free shit (like gospel brunch at the hob), and invites me to things even though she knows i act like an uncouth hoodlum at all times. gotta love someone who will let you come as you are, right?

i'd definitely be remiss if i ain't give no love to my homegyrl, deshi. though we spend most of the time we hang out under the influence, i'm sure that even sober she's pretty top notch. i mean, damn, she did hook me up with a free ticket to cali. (oh gosh i miss the bay.)

anyway, i just wanted to give some love to the friends i've met in the chi. feel free to give your friends a shout.

be easy,
sm.

ps: i'm really sorry i've been writing long posts lately. i'll try and do better.

the l word

open letter #6

dear readers:

generally, i use the open letter to discuss things that bother me regarding race and other societal ills. i've begged for black folk to be left off of television, suggested the naacp revamp its image, and even squashed beef with kanye. but this time, i'm employing this feature of my blog to talk (a bit more) about myself. not that i want to bore you with my life. trust me, there is a reason why i don't talk about summer mc_____ on this blog. (wait. that didn't make any sense, really. the "character" summer m. was not created because the real me is ridiculously boring. i "created" her for other reasons. but whatever, work with me here. boy, i digress.) i haven't, i must admit, been entirely honest with you all.

please don't be misguided by the title of this post. i am fully aware that after my blackness, i've beat this whole gay shit into the ground (another marked/marginalized identity! look at me! look at me!). so lesbian is not the "l word" i'm speaking of here. nor is that word "love." i do not have a girlfriend; ain't no commitment ceremonies happenin' co-starring me any time soon. rather, this other "l word" deals with something i've been struggling with my entire life. i haven't hidden it, yet i still feel the need to come out, if you will. it's hard to admit, though. for in many ways it has handicapped the way i move through the world--constantly shifting, readjusting to fit into this world that often ignores me, marks me, or relegates me to an uneasy "specialness." perhaps you wouldn't notice it unless you sat next to me, or were (really) attentive. either way, i know that none (or most) of you, dear readers, are aware of this fact. but since i've recently been making an effort to be more vocal about my insecurities, i figured it was the proper time to divulge yet another truth. 'tis the season to be honest. ok. here goes.

i'm...

oh gosh.

i'm...




left-handed.

there. i said it. i'm left-handed. a lefty. wrong-handed (as my daddy would say). a southpaw. add another identity to my identities. so what's the score? i, summer m., fuckin' blogstar extraordinaire, am a colored/negro/afro-american/african-american/african american (no hyphen), woman (no "y", please) , queer/gay/homo/lesbian (at least, 85-95%), working class (though the folks moved up like the jeffersons), child of divorce, publik skool educated, midwestern, left-handed person. hmm...i think i missed something(s).

for a while, i thought left-handedness was normal, okay. my mother, grandmother, brother, and stepsister are also left-handed. righties always seemed odd to me. until, of course, i started going to skool, being socialized and whatnot. why does my elbow drape oddly across the desk? why doesn't my handwriting slant in the same way as my classmates'? why oh why is this ink smeared on my hand? how come i can't cut with these scissors?

i then began to realize that perhaps my difference wasn't necessarily special, but maybe something that would mark me as i moved throughout the world. as i grew older, i realized that things weren't really made for me. how could the world do this to me? after all, i was born this way. any lettering on pens? the words appear upside down while in the left hand. desks? yeah, there are special desks to fit my needs, but they are few and often in corners. wanna be tiger woods? you have to order special clubs. and what of the term left-handed? mendacity. a left-handed compliment. the term "sinister" comes from latin and originally meant "left" until it became associated with evil. while the term to describe the other, dominant hand, the "right" hand, is synonymous with terms like "justice." and lucifer? rumor has it he sat at the left hand of god. left-handers have been beaten and bound until they got "right." my people, my people.

though we are not as ostracized as we once were, i am taking the opportunity to become active, and fully and publicly embrace my left-handedness. it is time for us to unite and take a stand. fight for our rights, our total acceptance and recognition in this right-handed world. no longer will i mention my bi partial ambidexterity when someone notices i write with the "other" hand. i will no longer be shamed when someone notices that i wear my watch on my right wrist. from now on, i will extend my left hand when greeting people!!!!

and i will not stop there. i will find a niche and create a multfacted, multi-billion dollar corporation catering to the needs of left-handed people. (even more) spiral notebooks for leftys! cafes that serve drinks in mugs where the image will face me if i decide to hold the cup in my left hand! timepieces designed counterclockwise (hunh?)! cameras with shutter buttons on the left! events and organizations where left-handed people (of color) can congregate and connect! left-handed scissors for everyone!!!!

no longer will the advantages of being left-handed be relegated to the boxing ring or the pitcher's mound. i have found my cause, and i intend to fight for it until the needs of left-handed people are fully addressed in our society. we have come a long way, but we've so far to go.

as my first act, i propose we eliminate the hyphen in between left and handed.

let's get this money, muthafuckas.

sincerely,
summer "southpaw who will bust you in your right jaw" m., blogstar

open letter #1
open letter #2
open letter #3
open letter #4
open letter #5

snippets of a random conversation

take 12

via email
nahmix: you'd look cooler as a dj than i would!

summer m.: we could be a duo. dj ... and dj ...nahmix.

nahmix: y da fuck u get a cool ass name and I get stuck with the wack shit?

summer m.: then come up with something. i've been wanting to be dj [i'm not telling you my dj name, silly] for a minute. we can buy used turntables and teach ourselves. i'm all about being self-taught--like a slave learning how to read and shit.


it's only tuesday, but i'm pretty sure that's gonna be the ignorantest shit i say all week. yeah, even ignoranter than pretending it's ok to type "words" like "ignoranter" and "ignorantest."

start a rumor monday...

fort wheezy at christmas. 1 of 2 christmas displays in "downtown".

santa: the interview
two weeks before he again sets off on an award tour, father christmas sat down with summer m. of fecundmellow to spread a little holiday cheer, and clear up some nasty rumors that have been circulating news and other media throughout the year. mr. claus was very honest, candid, and...high.

fecundmellow: mr. claus, it is such a pleasure. thank you for taking time out of your busy holiday season schedule to chat with us today.
santa: the pleasure is all mine. ho, ho, ho!

fecundmellow: what'd you just call me?
santa: i don't think i follow.

fecundmellow: may i call you the nigga kris kringle, or just kris for short?
santa: go right ahead, smurf.

fecundmellow: ay yo, santa. that's fucked up. don't be calling me that shit in publik, homie.
santa: you been working really hard for coals in your stocking, asshole.

fecundmellow: are those 30's on the sleigh?
santa: 40's. sprewells. they spinnin', nigga, they spinnin'!!!!**

fecundmellow: lemme get a puff of that candy cane, k squared...word. is that platinum on rudolph's nose, playa?
santa: hell to the yeah. and peep that ice.

fecundmellow: you right. his olfactory area be mad frigid (comma) yo. [gives santa a pound.] so tell me, kris, what are the new hot toys for the season? monopoly? clue?
santa: [inhales slowly from the cane] naw, nigga. where the hell you been? these snot noses don't fuck with shit that don't have a hard drive. try a blackberry, the new video ipod, xbox, shit like that. by the way. you really should stop asking for that red ryder bb gun. we discontinued that line 8 years ago. what's this? the 17th christmas in a row you've asked for that? i figure a phd student would get the hint by now. besides, you'll shoot your eye out.**

fecundmellow: how does the workshop handle such technologically demanding christmas gifts?
santa: we merged with microsoft not too long ago.

fecundmellow: did the elves' work stoppage earlier this year hinder your progress?
santa: due to some stipulations in the legal settlement, i'm not at liberty to discuss that.

fecundmellow: can you at least respond to the elves' labor leaders claiming unfair wages and less than stellar working conditions at the north pole?
santa: you really know how to fuck up a high.

fecundmellow: what of several law suits claiming height discrimination by some of the taller elves?
santa: you're *this* close to my naughty list.

fecundmellow: speaking of, i'd like to name some names. feel free to respond with either naughty or nice. terence howard.
santa: that hustle and flow shit? and that conk? not so nice, homie.

fecundmellow: bob johnson.
santa: naughty.

fecundmellow: kanye west.
santa: gay.

fecundmellow: naughty or nice?
santa: that nigga gay. he asked me for a barbie when he was 9!

fecundmellow: should i put him under naughty or nice?
santa: put that under, "jaw needs welding."**

fecundmellow: george w. bush.
santa: that nigga will be shitting coal 'til new year's.

fecundmellow: bobby and whitney.
santa: that's black love.

fecundmellow: oprah.
nice. her favorite things shows really help a brother out on the workload. if you ain't gonna puff the cane pass, nigga damn!

fecundmellow: [passes cane to santa.] sum-n-saf.
santa: naughty-n-naughty.

fecundmellow: how do you respond to critics who say you are merely another mythical white heterosexual male patriarch who not only stands as a holiday season metonym for, but also reinscribes ideas surrounding consumerism, materialism, and capitalism, while also simultaneously reifying notions of whiteness and maleness as jovial goodness?
santa: they can kiss my black ass.

fecundmellow: i heard that you were under some pressure to change your image due to our ever-changing and diverse society. any response?
santa: these politically correct muthafuckas are out of their goddamn minds. what the hell do they think this is? an application for admission to the university of michigan law skool? i'm santa, muthafuckin', claus, bitch. i do my day after thanksgiving appearance at macy's, and these muthafuckas want me to wear a yarmulka and a kente cloth belt so as to not offend those who don't celebrate christmas. i'm like what the fuck? that kente shit clashes with my suit, and makes me break out, dig? and the kids can't sit on my lap no more because they think i'm on some michael jackson shit. standing all far away from me like i got the bird flu or some shit. and then, they tell me i can't say merry christmas, or happy holidays or nothing. i'm just supposed to say "happy" because that's a--and i quote--"neutral term for end of the year celebrations regardless of religious affiliation, race, color, creed, and sexual orientation." and while i'm on sexuality: this gay shit has got to stop. i got these bastards at lambda legal trying to sue me and shit. all up in arms because i walked off the set of an ikea commercial after the director told me it wasn't a mrs., but a mr. claus i was buying a dinette for. just because i threatened to do some shit involving my boot and the director's ass. since when did violence upon the ass equal sodomy? in my day it stood for an often well-deserved beat down. that shit was taken out of context, muthafucka. i'm a friend of gay people. i tivo shit off bravo and logo all the damn time. skittles are my favorite candy. i got elves working for me, what the fuck else do you want?!?!

fecundmellow: do you mind if i reveal to my blog readers that you're a black man?
santa: why not? they'll believe that as soon as they start painting more accurate pictures of jesus.

fecundmellow: thanks, playa.
santa: ho, ho, ho, muthafucka.


**chris rock...also, shout out to saf's mama.
**a reference to my fave holiday movie ever, a christmas story.
**another shout out to saf.

this weekend's essay: holiday cheer (a remix)

what's your favorite chrismahanakwanzakah memory?
(portions of which appeared on my blog a while ago.)


in general, i miss being a kid at christmas.

the most excited i ever got about buying someone a christmas gift was when i was maybe six years old. i cannot describe the feelings i had then. sort of like the way i can't remember how my "happy smurfday" cake tasted, but if i had it again, i'd know. i think i'd gotten some money from my pops for good grades or something--A's were worth about 3 dollars a piece back then. i had gone through the walgreens ad, and found what i wanted to get everyone on my list. so my mom took me to the walgreens in southgate plaza. i didn't want my mother to see what i was getting her, so she led me to a really pretty black lady in the cosmetics section, and asked her to help me on my behalf; just like now, back then i would not talk to strangers on my own volition. anyway, i showed this woman what i wanted to get my moms. it was this small, white nail dryer. after you polished your nails, you took your fingers and pressed this button, and semi-hot air blew on your nails from some little contraption above. it coudn't have cost more than 10 dollars, but i swear it's the greatest gift i ever bought anyone. honestly, i cannot immediately recall anything else i've ever bought anyone in the chrismases since.

my mother has a way of showing excitement and appreciation for damn near anything. and her reaction to my gift left me thoroughly satisfied. at that moment, i think i knew that it always better to give... i don't know why this is one of my two most vivid christmas memories. i'm sure (i hope, at least) that i've bought much better gifts for my mother since. but there's just something about that nail dryer that's stayed with me all this time. thing is, that nail dryer lasted for quite a while, and through the years, whenever i saw my mom using it, i'd smile.

perhaps it really is the thought that counts. whenever anyone wants to know my favorite holiday memory, or the best christmas gift i've ever received, i tell them the following story. the christmas after my parents got divorced, my mom was broke, with two little kids to make happy. my father, for whatever reason, was very much dedicated to making my mother suffer in many ways. unfortunately, the ways he decided to make her pay (refusing to pay support, not calling, not taking advantage of his visitation rights, etc.) really only hurt janelle and me. with overtime and such, his factory job left him with a lot more dough than my mom, who for a while had gone part-time to take care of us. so by christmas eve, my mother had absolutely no leftover dough, and two young girls fully believing that the great white patriarch santa fuckin' claus would descend from the north pole and hook us up with the freshest toys featured in the latter half of the jc penney catalog. (what you know about finding out all the kids' toys and shit were on the other side of the yellow pages in the middle?) swallowing her pride--she would later tell me-- she borrowed 100 bucks from my great grandparents, and she and her best friend, stephanie went shopping for us. getting gifts that would make up the greatest christmas ever.

i got my first (and only) record player that year--a black emerson that i thought was the shit. i played billy ocean, cherelle, jeffrey osborne, janet jackson, and al jarreau on that joker. i tried to scratch records and shit on that joint. i recorded myself rappin with the tape deck. and all the shit my dad bought that year--perhaps to show up my mom--like the barbie dreamhouse, sat untouched in my damn basement for years.

when i think about it, all the lite brites, teddy ruxpins, crickets, and cabbage patch kids, don't match up to a cheap record player, a checker board, and a grocery cart with plastic food. i hold that memory really close to me. just a couple years later, my mother would marry my stepfather, and our family dynamic would again change. other than brief moments when my stepdad would go out of town, it's the only memory of it just being my mom, janelle, and me. they were hard, scary, and uncertain, but i miss those days. it's my huck and jim on the river, my idyllic moment.

so, uh, got any fave chrismahanakwanzakah memories?

this just in...re: o week day 4:

At 5/12/05 22:32, ASB said...

What a shame that you have no respect for legendary African American women. Just goes to show why the black community still cannot unite -- there is always at least one of us who wants to bring others down. Jealousy is ugly on you!

i might refer asb to this entry.

and now...

snippets of a random conversation take 11



mom: yeah, she [summer m.] said she really liked san francisco.

grandma: oh, i just knew she would.

mom: she had a really nice time.

grandma: (whispering) you know, i was gonna tell her san francisco was, like, the gay capital of the world, but i didn't.

mom: ma, i think she knows that.

grandma: (still whispering) oh, okay.

mom: are you alone?

grandma: (still whispering) yes.

mom: (whispering) then why are you whispering?


PLEASE TAKE TIME TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE GREATNESS THAT WAS SNIPPETS OF A RANDOM CONVERSATION TAKE 10. I WILL REPOST THAT SHIT IF I HAVE TO.

thank you for your time.

the start a rumor faq.

got questions? i got answers.

why'd you start writing rumors?
b/c i didn't think i had anything interesting to blog about. thus, i just started making up stuff. this blog was initially started for me to establish/maintain my voice via the practice of writing--though the writing that appears on this blog is often bad. i've told several folks this: i only thought my mom and maybe my sis would read my isht. interestingly, they rarely check it out, and i don't know most of the people who read. but that's a big digression. basically, i needed some topics to write about. and since i didn't find the "true" subjects sufficient, i just made up my own.

where can i find your rumors?
mostly on mondays. but i've compiled a list of them here. (or scroll down.)

do you think your rumors are funny?
absolutely not. i think they're ridiculous, but only b/c i'm ridiculous.

do people ever believe your rumors?
yes. i've even received emails from people seeking to corroborate my stories. (one on chappelle, i think.) though i sometimes wonder how far i could go by being dishonest, i tell them i made it up.

what are you fave rumors?
see above answer. but if i had to choose maybe the bush one on mlk day, and pork chop sammich.

what are your most popular rumors?
i've no idea. maybe the one about me losing the black weblog awards. that said, i imagine more people read the rumor than comment. so i don't know how to quantify one entry's popularity over the another.

how'd your rumors get so popular?
beats the hell outta me. frankly, i don't think they're that popular. (i live in a bubble.) i think alii has a lot to do with the growth of fecundmellow. i've also been fortunate enough to get shout outs on sites like blackgayblogger, crunktastical, negrophile, and sexandthe2nd city. oh, and my folks in canada like solitaire and jdiddy.

i spit out my coffee while reading your rumor, will you buy me a replacement cup?
hell no. the hell you think this is? but if you're ever in the city of wind, i might meet you for coffee. and you can buy me a cup. but i don't drink the java. i prefer my caffeine in the form of iced chai.

how do you come up with these rumors?
oh, all kinds of ways. reading my yahoo! startup page. talking to saf, nahmix, rrrr. in the car. but often while in the shower. i have my best thoughts in the shower.

are your rumors based on some sort of truth?
sometimes.

you should write a book.
riiiiight. nobody would read that shit. except, maybe my mama. but only if she got a free copy.


thanx for asking.

start a rumor monday...

a look back at a year of lies

just a list of all the rumors i've started on this here blog. date, topic, followed by a lil blurb.

1. 6. december. 2004. halle berry. the very first rumor, where i claim that catwoman admitted that perhaps she shouldn't have won an academy award for her role in monster's ball.
2. 13. december. 2004. girl groups. i make believe that former members of destiny's child, en vogue, and 3lw join together and form the girl group, exmember.
   
3. 3. january. 2005. usher. um...he "admits" that he's trying hard to be like mike. jackson, that it.
4. 10. january. 2005. ashlee simpson. she pulls a nation of islam (or a prince), and changes her name.
   
5. 17. january. 2005. george dubya bush. in honor of dr. martin luther king jr. day, our president integrated his coffee.
   
6. 31. january. 2005. black history month. it got moved to january. nobody knew.
7. 7. february. 2005. the super bowl. the nfl was worried that it would have to acknowledge another black quarterback. fortunately, his team lost.
8. 14. february. 2005. kanye take one. jesus relaces judas...with kanye west.
9. 23. february.2005. mj trial. the show hollywood squares has to postpone taping b/c all of the stars are testifying in the michael jackson case. sounds wack, in know. but jay leno stole my joke.
10. 28. february. 2005. the academy awards. oscar fills black quota by giving morgan freeman and jamie foxx awards.
11. 7. march. 2005. bill cosby. he and other alleged sexual predator, r. kelly hook up and make a dvd.
12. 14. march. 2005. halle berry, oprah winfrey. the two discuss their future cinematic projects. like a remake of imitation of life.
13. 22. march. 2005. lil kim...michael jackson...white people. a news brief covering the trials of the queen bee and the gloved one, and steriods.
14. 28. march. 2005. easter. basically: i'm going to hell for this one.
    
15. 4. april. 2005. terry schiavo. her parents sue so that they can mourn longer than her husband.
16. 11. april. 2005. queen latifah. she ain't really a queen.
17. 18. april. 2005. kanye take two. throwing another tantrum for note winning the "best new pope" award.
18. 25. april. 2005. the nation of islam and catholics. in response to folks in chicago thinking they saw the image of the virgin mary under an overpass (my exit!!!!), i say a member of the noi finds an image of the honorable elijah muhammed in his pork chop sammich.
    
19. 9. may. 2005. mother's day. members of the congressional black caucus make the monday after mother's day, "yo' mama day." oh, and some other shit, too.
20. 16. may. 2005. mary kay letourneau. r. kelly and michael jackson agree to be her wedding reception entertainment.
21. 23. may. 2005. dave chappelle. he decided to start a back to africa movement.
22. 31. may. 2005. more letourneau...star wars...beyonce. anikan is told he's not luke's father a la maury povich. and some other shit.
23. 6. june. 2005. race. fda approves race changing surgery.
24. 20. june. 2005. the jacksons. michael and jesse face off.
25. 27. june. 2005. oprah. hermes. 'nough said.
26. 6. july. 2005. the very first reader's choice. topics included: terry mcmillan's divorce, r. kelly's trapped in the closet, and tom cruise dissing snoop dogg and the bishop don juan.
27. 11. july. 2005. george dubs bush. a confused el presidente nominates wynonna for the supreme court.
28. 18. july. 2005. karl rove. karl rove tells on me.
29. 25. july. 2005. ring tones. alarm systems provide ring tones for subscribers.
30. 1. august. 2005. video games. objectionable material found in old skool, seemingly wholesome video games.
31. 8. august. 2005. gwen stefani. that song, "holla back girl," got on my damn nerves. so i made a monkey sing it.
32. 15. august. 2005. star jones, terry mcmillan. some anti-gay shit obviously.
33. 22. august. 2005. kanye part three. more gay stuff.
34. 29. august. 2005. kanye part four. gay stuff again.
35. 5. september. 2005. black weblog awards. i lose my shit after losing.
36. 19. september. 2005. curious george bush. i turn him into the emcee, "dub-ya."
37. 26. september. 2005. hurricane katrina. the poor people of chicago flood their neighborhoods.
    
38. 3. october. 2005. summer m. i pretend a reader doesn't think i'm gay enough.
39. 10. october. 2005. christopher columbus. activists protest the celebration of columbus day.
    
40. 17. october. 2005. the millions more march. dub-ya and bill bennett give us a play by play.
41. 24. october. 2005. foxy brown. the shortest start a rumor ever.
42. 31. october. 2005. the world series. fecundmellow takes a look at the chicago white sox' road to victory.
43. 8. november. 2005. janet jackson. jermaine dupri, her alleged daughter, super bowl performances. we cover it all--except nipples.
    
44. 14. november. 2005. summer m. i have a lover.
    
45. 21. november. 2005. thanxgiving. celebs tell us why they're thankful.
    
46. 28. november. 2005. start a rumor (we get meta). is this the end?
    

this weekend's essay: sometimes i feel so...insecure.



(yes, after a brief hiatus, the essay is back.)

this is a picture of me in my glasses. (duh.) posting it on the internet for the world to see is pretty major. (not really.) my (lack of) eyesight has to be the thing i am most sensitive about. and heretofore (i likes that word), unless i knew you really well you would not see me in my specs.

i've worn glasses since iono when. prolly first grade; maybe earlier. as i got older my eyesight got progressively worse. and since my parents were convinced i wasn't responsible enough--and because they ain't really have the money--i rocked glasses the majority of the time until i was a freshman in high skool. since kids can be assholes mimicking their parents' mean ways, the thickness of my glasses (along with my terrible fashion sense, my "tomboyish" walk, my "nerdiness", et cetera, et cetera) caused me to be the butt of cracks (huh, that's funny) and jokes esp. in middle skool. the glasses, along with the fact that my mother is a milf (folks say she's more beautifuller in person, but you can see her here, here, here, or here.) made me super sensitive about my looks, etc.

in many ways, i still view myself as that 14 year old girl with thick ass glasses. and, i've come to realize i've given a pair of plastic frames a lot of power. my lenses are so expensive that i thought it'd be cheaper in the long run to go ahead and get lasik. since my insurance covers some of the surgery, i thought i'd give it a shot this last fall. i went to my initial appointment with a lot of hope, and wondered what it might be like to wake up in the morning able to see clearly. but my perscription is too high. i don't have enough tissue in my eye to withstand the surgery. the closest i could get to experiencing 20/20 vision without glasses and/or contact lenses is having contacts surgically placed in my eyes--a more risky and mad expensive alternative. on my way back home from my first (and last) lasik consultation, i called my mom to tell her the disappointing news. as i told her what the doctor said (he was so apologetic that he couldn't help me), i almost cried. and you and i both know i haven't shed a tear since mufasa died.

since then, i've thought a lot about how my glasses have shaped me as a person. i'm not exactly sure how they've done such work, but i get the sense that if i would've had lasik, something in my person might've changed. so though it's still a hassle to put on my glasses if, say, i'm talking on the phone at night (yes, i have to be able to see to hear well), i'm sort of glad i still gotta rock my specs.

so...i'm gonna get over this insecurity. i'm working on it. if i'm going to believe that my thick ass glasses are just a part of me, i ain't gonna be ashamed of that part of me. though i backed out from walking around oakland in them (i said i was gonna, then changed my mind), putting a picture of bespectacled me on my blog is a start. like i said, i only pull out the joints if i know you well, and since most of y'all are strangers, i think this is a step towards getting over this bullshit.

besides, it's about damn time i quit viewing myself as an awkward teen. despite my quest for eternal youth by staying in skool and rocking novelty t-shirts on the daily (say me say many money/say me say many many many), i'm damn near a grown ass woman. and i ain't got the time to be worried about whether or not someone is gonna comment on how alarmingly thick my glasses are. yes, they are thick enough to make my rather large eyes look pretty small. i got it. i'm (getting) over it.

anyway, thanx for listening. as i said, this is the return of this weekend's essay. if you have an insecurity or two--physical or otherwise--you wanna share in the comments section. feel free.

have a great weekend.

and i'm out.

the sum-n-saf half take 3: how to speak sumfire


since the first two entries of the sun-n-saf half have been such a hit, we've decided to keep it coming. not that we would've stopped if you didn't like it. at this point it should be obvious how live we think we are. but we digress. anyway, understanding that spending mad time together often means you say things other folks don't understand, we decided to come up with a working dictionary so that you, dear readers, can maybe understand half the shit we say. but mostly, we wanted to make it public that we (meaning saf) came up with this shit first. yeah, because we're live like that.

(comma) yo. simply: the articulation of the grammatical punctuation between what you've just said, and the slang term "yo" used to replace the actual name of the person you're addressing. so instead of just pausing (or not) when saying, "what's up, yo?" you actually say "comma". dreamt up: stuck in chicago rush hour traffic during a the first leg of a road trip.

personality chick. another one of saf's genius phrases. a personality chick was defined with this here blog entry. it sounds shallow, we know, but you just gotta think a little harder. see, we understand that being good lookin' (that is, a pleasing object for the male gaze to dwell upon), often affords you certain shit (like academy awards, halle). sometimes, however, it precludes you from developing a full personality. you know, one that comes with a sense of humor and a knack for blogging. those of us whose personalities weren't stifled because we weren't "lookers," if you will, are what you might call personality chicks. someone who got attention (if any) on some intangible shit. a female whose ass might not cause heads to turn (though sum's junk has caused a few jaws to drop), but her ability to say more than 10 words without giggling at the end might. yeah. we know it's problematic. but we like problematic. can't you tell? dreamt up: during a phone conversation.

j.a.m.: acronym for jesus ass muthafucka. you know, folks with blessd1 as vanity plates. now, we ain't saying there's anything wrong with loving the lord. just please stop trying to sneak up and sprinkle us with the blood of jesus. (saying jam is often followed by singing guy's "teddy's jam" and/or michael jackson's "jam") dreamt up: at a rest stop somewhere in northern ohio.

hilary banks syndrome. a white-identified black woman. confused? she's the only black member of tri-delta. dreamt up: walking north on broadway on the way to the uptown lounge.

huey newton complex. suffered by (super) light skinned black dudes that are on their pro black kind of hard. you know, like over compensation for lack of melanin and shit. they're pretty easy to spot. ex. they greet you with the black power salute instead of a good ole american handshake. yeah, shit like that.

aunt jemima theory. an upcoming blog entry that will change the way we look at oprah...not really. dreamt up: on the way to midway airport.

"the" ______ (i.e. gay, yoga, pilates). we don't know why we (mostly summer) does this. it seems to, however, make whatever you're saying funny. doubts? try to say the pilates (pronounced: pill la tays in this case) without giggling. dreamt up: who knows?

that agrestic/medicinals/ j&^%. our euphemisms for marijuana. in honor of the tv show weeds, and summer m.'s first weed man. always smoked with saf's pretty blue peace pipe. dreamt up: prolly high.

the nigga_____ (insert name). this is pretty much self explanatory. let's review, "if you listen to what the nigga shuggie otis is saying, it's mad obvious that he was smoking that agrestic when he wrote "strawberry letter 23" (comma) yo." dreamt up: prolly while high.

____, nigga, ____ (insert expletive of your choice). something to express your exasperation. por ejemplo, "shit, nigga, shit!!!!" dreamt up: prolly stolen from chappelle.

nouning verbs. self explanatory. ex: the "whorification" of black femininity is the cultural phenomenon that led to bullshit like "BET Uncut" dreamt up: prolly saf.

verbing nouns. ditto. ex: to "Boyz-II-Men" a girl, versus "Jodeci-ing" her, which is what most girls would prefer. dreamt up: prolly saf.

race center nig. basically the black folk who frequent your favorite white institution's black cultural center's events and such. saf and sum are an embarrassment to this kind. dreamt up: in the car.

johnny five(d). to have so many thoughts that you are either a) speechless, and/or b) having paroxysms of crazy talk. dreamt up: while trying to think of a euphemism for "bugged the fuck out," and simultaneously perusing imdb.com

keep it california. to be nice like the people of the bay. no hostility, just being you b/c you ain't got shit to prove to nobody. dreamt up: while riding the bus high.

keep it funky, jo jo. keep it real. dreamt up: while discussing the greatness that is the reality tv show, run's house.

urban contemporary or UC. a more accurate replacement for the misused, polemically (and politically) depleted term "ghetto". dreamt up: during the tricia rose talk.

also, sum-n-saf are working on mottos, er, taglines. whatever. we've come up with the following. (feel free to vote for your favorite, but we'll prolly use them all.)

sum-n-saf: look ma! no weave.
sum-n-saf: when's the last time you saw two black chicks together without a rapper in between them?
sum-n-saf: no talk show...no video ho...somewhere in the middle
sum-n-saf: still rollin' in the back of the bus like 1955
sum-n-saf: the colored section never looked so fun
sum-n-saf: like minstrelsy...but not really.
sum-n-saf: uncut like b.e.t., purified d, and "natural" dicks (if you know what i'm saying)

sum-n-saf: the postmodern equivalent of amos-n-andy