The Land of Make Believe

Long ago my ex and I used to follow Andre 3000’s advice and… do something outta the ordinary, like catch a matinee. For some reason we saw a lot of “romantic” comedies. They were not always my idea. Believe dat. Anywho. I distinctly remember us going to see Deliver Us From Eva featuring Gabrielle Union as the mean Black woman and LL Cool J as the man who can “tame” her.

Well if you’ve never seen the movie (which is no surprise) it’s the same boy meets girl, girl has disdain for boy, he wears her down, they have a blissful montage of laughter, long walks and kisses, they argue or something, she moves away, they are both miserable, and he travels cross the country to win her back. And so he arrives wearing a tuxedo and gliding down a busy ass Chicago street on a wait for it white horse. It was at this point in the movie (not at the other totally non believable parts) when my ex literally threw up his hands. And was all what the fuss? And then he yelled at the screen:

Now every Black woman gon’ expect a nygga to show up on a white horse!!!!

[Yeah thank goodness we were at the matinee. Heh]

So yeah the other night I decided to lull myself to sleep by watching Hitch, only I couldn’t sleep and kept wanting to watch. And the whole time I’m like Rum Punch take yo’ ass to sleep because this movies sucks! And then I’d be like oh no it ain’t that bad. And then when the characters started professing their love after like two days together I’d be like NO! NO! NO! It does suck!

There is a never ending conversation about how these movies and fairytales and other nonsense corrupt the young minds of little girls of all colors, creeds, shapes and sizes, who grow up into grown ass women desperately seeking their prince charming at every turn. And that’s why on shows like Say Yes to the Dress they be like, “I have been planning my wedding since I was four years old.” Ummm… Really? Have you?

And the 'The Real, Nah For Real, Sisters Are Doin It For Ourselves So We Don't Need No Rescuin, Ok?' Woman's Council makes it clear that these movies are detrimental to your health. Bad, bad, bad for your psyche. Your overall well being. They stay kickin' the truth to the youth. Keepin it real and funky. Love don't happen in no two days! You can be happy and single. You can, really! And for that Black Women Committee huddled in that corner over there especially, ain't no nygga showin up on a white horse. So, hope you've been putting money away in your IRA.

And so you swear off these types of movies! Or at least paying full price for them. And you get to an age where you might subject yourself to a romantic comedy (strictly for entertainment of course ), but you don't dare believe any of it. Cause that’s just a fairytale, she just happens to have traded a bucket of water for a Chanel purse.

But then when you come out of the dark theatre, and turn the pages of real life aka all these wedding stories in the newspapers. And Minty knows them better than I do, but the ones I do see be like: perfect couple met 20 years ago in college. Sometimes they dated. Sometimes they were just good friends. Then they traveled the world separate and apart. Married and divorced other people. And then fate brought them together again whilst working at an orphanage in Siberia. And you be like word?!? That really happens to people? Why that’s the stuff movies are made out of!

And don't let it be Black people with the most romantical story ever! I think everyone saw that PowerPoint email that was goin round of that Black guy who rented out half the Ritz Carlton, had chick's friends from kindergarten, pastor and parents gathered for that surprise wedding proposal. You be like awwww damn!

It’s like damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Don't wanna trust these movies where people fall in love at first sight. But can't really trust these real life stories where he immediately knew she was the one, she wasn’t so sure, she stayed on his mind, and then he did the mostest to woo her. I mean you wanna believe that things can be that easy (seemingly of course, I know it take work - but stay with me people. Ok? Ok!). Effortless. Beautiful. But it's like unicorns. Or mermaids. Or shooting stars. Or nyggas on white horses.

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

stay so fresh and oh so mf'in clean

if you know me, you know i'm an outkast stan till i die. they the best by far.  over a million sold to this day.  i have a special love for big boi, being the hometown homie that he is.  while everybody fawned over the love below (as they should), i bumped speakerboxx with equal frequency.

so you know i'm so a-cited about the release of sir lucious left foot: the son of chico dusty.  it drops july 6th and i can't wait to get it.  so far ev-er-re-thang i've heard from the upcoming album is like ragu, it's in there, he's giving you some of the best of him!

like his new joint general patton.  smellin' sweeter than a plate of yams with extra syrup.  shouts out to the victory bowling lanes making a cameo, a place where i failed to make many a strike.



for more info on big boi go here.

The Best Policy?

We are all familiar with phrase Honesty is the Best Policy. Yet I think it’s safe to say that we have assessed certain situations and discovered that while honesty is a policy it may not always be the best one at the time. Like if someone’s child looks more like a gremlin than a human baby it’s probably best to “Awwww!” and go on about how precious they are, opposed to exclaiming “Daaaaaaaaamn what the *beep* was that thing?!” Riiiiiight? Right. Or even if your homegirl is dating or marrying a flaming homosexual (knods at Star Jones) maybe it’s better to stay mum, because gaydar is not always accurate. But what policy should we adopt with is comes to adopted children?

Generally speaking I think adoption is a great idea! Be it a road, a grandparent, a puppy or a person. I can’t even convey here how excited I was when my parents were considering adopting a boy a couple years younger than I! As an only child it was a dream come true. But unfortunately it wasn’t a dream that materialized and I occasionally wonder how different life would be for the three of us if my parents had follow through with their plan. I think, if I ever have enough money in my bank to finance it, I’d like to adopt a child, the legal way. But I wonder when is the right time to be honest with the adopted?

It seems that if you don’t tell the child while they are young like pre school age, there really is no right moment. Jack Nicholson found out that his sister was really his mother from a journalist in 1974 after both is mother and grandmother passed on. My mother’s cousin found out after the neighborhood kids informed her through their taunts and teases that her parent’s had picked her up some place. A girl from my high school still doesn’t know the man she calls father isn’t biologically related to her, and her mother is no longer in the picture. And I have heard other stories of kids finding out on their 18th birthdays after their entire families have concealed the truth years. “Happy Birthday Jimmy! You are an adult now and we aren’t your parents! Now go be a productive member of society.” Say whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

This weekend I learned of yet another adoption tale to add to my collection. I found out that a girl from my church- for the sake of story we’ll call her Naomi-was adopted. I always assumed that the older lady she rolled with to church activities was her granny, but alas that’s what I get for assuming. Last month by coincidence, luck, destiny or however else you’d like to label God’s divine will, Naomi found out she had a younger sister (who is walking around with Naomi’s face) who also attended the same church. For months people asked them if they were related and their retort was no, besides Naomi was adopted. But then one day the girls started talking and Naomi shared what she knew about her birth parents. Younger sister said the same things about her birth parents. The rub is that Naomi’s sister was not put up for adoption and still lives with their birth mother. Or course birth mother is feeling uncomfortable about the two girls hanging out with each other; which I can kind of sort of understand because it’s hard to face the truth after 17 years. But my heart breaks for Naomi, because I can’t help but wonder what it is like for her to see her sister and other siblings go home to their momma. My heart breaks for their mother who made decision-which I can only assume was difficult-that no one else understands but her. But it’s a lot to deal with for all parties involved, and I wonder if it would have been better for all if we church folks just continued to wonder how it could be possible for two girls to look so similar and not be related. Isn’t God amazing?

And I think for all of us as we get older we start learning the family secrets and it can be jarring. There are several cousins who I later discovered weren’t related to me by blood, but it didn’t change anything for me. Back in the day many a young pregnant woman birthed their child, gave it to big momma to raise and that was the end of it.
But what it was like for my cousins, when the truth was fully revealed? Did they really care about knowing the truth when a loving family formed around them and the lies anyway? Or were they appreciative that honesty was the policy eventually chosen?

See You In Seven