Friday, October 16, 2009


See those pictures? I want all of that this year.

Seems like every year, a few select (read: same) girlfriends and I joke about the timeline for meeting someone that would qualify as a winter boo. If the weather in New York is any indication, winter is upon us.

After some catching up, the conversation inevitably turns to relationships and seasons with the discussion as follows:

“Girl, I needs me someone to keep me warm this winter. This comforter isn’t cutting it.”

“I hear you!”

“And the holidays are right around the corner…”

“Exactly! So you have to find someone by Halloween, mid-November the latest because after that it’s a wrap. People are traveling and preparing for the holidays.”

“Not only that, who do I look like inviting Tito to my family’s Thanksgiving dinner after knowing him only two weeks. He may just act the fool.”

For my single folks, it’s already October 16th; do you know who your boo is? If you have a few potentials, figure out who you want to be with for the next few months and put some work into bunning up. Block off more time on his calendar to make sure you’re I there. Fellas, pick her up from work Thursday evening, order in, and watch the season finale of the RHOA (Real Housewives of Atlanta) for major cool points. If by chance, you’re one of the unlucky individual with no prospects, I suggest you step your game up. You can find single folks in the freest places like the Laundromat. Even the baddest chick (let Trina tell it), has to do laundry at some point. Ditto for the brother you’ve seen in the neighborhood coffee shop. Besides that, everyone has to eat – including those that don’t cook. I’m almost certain that they have to buy staples like bread, eggs, turkey bacon, cheese and ice cream. Brothers, walk down the aisle where the sanitary goods are…a woman is bound to be there. ☺

If you’re wondering about Betsy’s status, I have one potential and a new fellow I have my eye on. Both are fuego, but I only have four weeks to get in good with the latter – and make a final decision. I want to play in the snow, sleep in when it rains (thank goodness for 'sick' days), go skiing, and get my neck, my back, and everything else rubbed like that. (shout out to Khia!) Go hard or go home solo dammit! November 15th is almost here so the time for lollygagging is nil!

Disclaimer: please do not feel the need to drop your boo in the spring. If (s)he can be all up in your space playing Scattergories with your crew – and they approve – you may want to keep the relationship going. Also, if you're married, engaged, or booed up already, consider it your duty to help your single friends. Afterall, what husband or wife wants their spouse dragged all around the city or to parties with their single in the city friend? That single friend is messing with your groove.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

P.S. once I’m booed up, I’ll be changing my middle name ☺

P.P.S. my friend, a brother, said if you can't get in good by October, it's a wrap for the gift exchange. If you're trying to seal the deal with him, you only have 15 days...egads! LOL

Friday, October 9, 2009

I DON'T WANT YOUR MAN (Keep my name out of your mouth)

Why is it that some women think that their man is a bag of chips and pretzels and everyone woman is after him? If another woman is bent on being with your man, and he’s down for it, there’s nary a thing the supposedly main woman can do. Fight? Yell? Why bother? He’s wasn’t interested in committing to you so I see no reason to go out of your way to get ghetto because when someone decides they want to be with someone else on the low or just dropping their boo for the next, they move forth without their partner’s permission.

I was inspired to write this blog because a colleague recently broke up with his girlfriend, who I’d never met. This fellow and I were supposed to attend an event together but minutes beforehand I cancelled unexpectedly. I was running way late and showing up thirty minutes late was unacceptable. When he was en route, he left a voicemail saying that his girlfriend had decided to accompany him. That certainly influenced my decision because I felt less guilty for canceling and didn’t bother to press my way. In my responding message I even said I would hang with him and the girlfriend later in the evening but he declined.

I thought the case was closed until the following day he mentioned they broke up. “Just like that?” I thought. Apparently, they were having issues for some time, unbeknownst to me, and last night was the final straw. The interesting part was ol’ girl, whom I’d never met, asked her then-man if he was going on a date with me. Huh? Would a man be so low as to invite his side chick and the main sham to the same event, so they would what, have a cum bah yah? LOL. That’s some real Jerry Springer/Ricky Lake/Maury Povich kind of thing. I didn’t say much to him about it but how is it a woman who has never met me, mentions my name as the other woman? And, aside from this event, her now ex-man and I hung out once! Lest I forget, he tried to hook me up with his buddy – which she knows.

The entire situation seems strange. I mean, I know times are hard in multiple categories but I know for a fact that I don’t play back burner to any other broad. In fact, I can be the girlfriend’s best ally; I value relationships and the last person you have to worry about pushing up on your man is me. In fact, I’ll run interference for you if I see your man trying to holler at the next chick. But then again, if he’s willing to creep, he worth letting go. Lady Saw will have him (that's a reggae song folks..."I got your man and you can't do anything about it!")

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Thursday, October 8, 2009


One night I happen to be flipping channels (a rarity) and I paused at the Wendy Williams Show. The one time I had seen a portion of it, I thought she was a train wrecked amazon on tv. She smacks her lips constantly when she talks and inserts “um” every five words. How could she have gotten a show?

Truthfully, I’ve never been a fan of hers but my mom and several of my friends LOVE her. Her radio show was pretty grimey – one that consistently played people – and now she has an evening talk show.

I watched, trying to figure out what folks saw in the show. I was unimpressed but noticed that her lineup is better than I would have expected. Ol’ Smokey Robinson performed; some white guy from a new NBC drama appeared; the host of Extra (I think) was on; the hold on to every morsel of fame king, Bill Bellamy cracked jokes, yucking it up with Wendy. Now, she’s not Oprah and not certainly not Tyra with her ‘keeping it real,’ no makeup shows (sigh…) but Wendy does have a certain quelque chose sur son which makes her show sort of interesting. She’s a clown and damn proud of it. You can just imagine her snapping her fingers, rolling her eyes and head, and cursing out some audience member because they did something unwise during her studio time and for that, folks watch her show. While I find some of her mannerisms over the top, there’s something interesting in the cavalier way she presents her show. She flips through notes at the beginning, rapidly scanning the pages to ensure that she delivers the right gossip. While annoying, I kind of like seeing her stuttering around the show unlike all the other hosts.

Is she going to move to ABC and fill Oprah’s slot? Probably not because mainstream America would balk at her and Wendy’s too unconventional to control but for what she’s doing on UPN (channel 9 is still UPN, right?), keep keeping on.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Friday, September 4, 2009


Does anyone else feel like summer cheated him or her? The weather was horrible in June and most of July. August came around and folks were feenin’ for fun but even then, people were afraid to plan fetes in fear of dismal weather, like last weekend. Of course, Habana heads were never deterred, standing around in stilettos and/or tank tops with bike helmets to eat greasy sandwiches, corn or drink Coronas. Habana even hired some big muscular looking brothers to wear super tight black T-shirts that read, “SECURITY.” A la ghetto…

My calendar was full but I there were lots of days, weekends especially where I felt I had to press my way to party. Other people concurred because they were going hard, laughing extra loud, overstaying their welcome, and asking if anyone knew of other events. Nope. LOL. I look forward to being kissed by the sun when I wake up every summer morning but instead, I had more “Urgh” rain-filled moments, usually reserve for winter. On top of that, there was a shortage of shorties.

I thought this summer was going to be on and poppin’ but it wasn’t…not like my other summers were. I want a refund! A re-do! I have hot outfits that never made it to bbq’s, searsucker suits for soirees and pum pum party shorts that I hang forlornly in my closet. Why summer!!?!? Why!?!?

I’m not trying to bemoan, any long anyway, because September is here, though the last two weeks could have been fall in my book. This weekend, I’m trying to make the best of it but already, I feel like staying indoors with ice cream and a movie. Sigh…so long summer…

Enjoy Labor Day weekend!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Thursday, September 3, 2009


Recently, a male acquaintance (Dale) asked my opinion on this scenario: My girlfriend and I are traveling to Florida and my buddy said we can stay at his place. My girlfriend is beefing about it. What do you think?

Of course it wasn’t as simple as Dale made it seem. After intense questioning, he finally admitted that:

1. He and his girlfriend may have to sleep on the floor but he believes his buddy (Janson) has carpet. In response, I said what self-respecting grown woman is going to want to leave her bed to make a bedroll on the floor of her boyfriend’s friend’s house? Besides that, carpet causes rug burns. He countered that camping involves sleeping on the floor. Yes, in the woods, in a sleeping bag with my boo. Actually, I would take an inflatable bed. That’s the closest I’m getting to the ground.

2. Janson has a roommate. Clearly Dale isn’t thinking about getting laid. I mean, does he expect his girlfriend to prance around in a negligee when there are two strange men in the house? Sexiness aside, if they’re staying in the living room, she’ll have to walk out in a towel and then get dressed there. One bathroom, one woman, three men. Need I say more?

3. Dale doesn’t believe in wasting money. Since Dale and his girlfriend would need to remain at the hotel two or three days, that could cost $200 - $300 and that’s the MAX because this brother is not springing for the Ritz Carlton or W. Dale’s logic is simple – that’s almost what he spends in monthly rent so it’s idiotic to spend that on a few days, mere hours.

4. If he doesn’t stand his ground, this could be a deal breaker. Clearly, they have other issues to combat because I don’t see this as a big deal. If he was on his last dollar, I could understand the scrimping but that’s not case. On top of that, when they dine out, they go to iHop. Sigh…

Would you let a friend and their significant other stay with you? I think back to the times I’ve stayed with friends and it’s been very select people because I don’t like being somewhere, feeling like I have to abide by house rules. In a hotel, I get up whenever, watch whatever, and downright lollygag. In my boyfriend’s friend’s house, I can’t see it.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Wednesday, September 2, 2009


For reasons unnecessary to this blog, I wound up in a conversation about sperm donors. Using trusty as my source, I quickly learned that sperm donors were no longer popular. In fact, my search returned with none. I guess men are so busy giving it away for free that the sperm banks were full.

For some reason I thought sperm donation paid $500 - $1,000. Men throw it in the garbage or flush it down the toilet for free so I suppose $1,000 was a big come up. Anyway, plugging in the keyword "donor" resulted in multiple listings - for women. I was flabbergasted when I read $7,000 and up for eggs! What?! There were even ads that specified African American or Jewish eggs! You know what I could do with that money right now? Having recently had a fertility conversation with my gyno, I knew I had quite a bit of eggs to spare but would I want to sell my “x” dough?

I knew selling my eggs would never be my option. It just seems unnatural but I know many folks in tight spots right now and $7,000 could help some launch a dream business, catch up on bills, take a vacation, do home repairs or pay their child's tuition. Money aside, I'm sure there are quite a few families that would appreciate the egg donation, considering they're probably paying a small fortune for a baby.

With so many babies and children in dire need of adoption though, is filling out forms and having your child come in contact with a petri dish first, the best option? What say you? Also, check out the ad below…a real one posted by Paul!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Please help me start my family!!

I'm a single man looking for an anonymous egg donor for gestational surrogacy. $12,000.

HAVE YOU NOTICED that all the agencies with postings here are offering to pay you about $8,000-$10,000? Well, they want to charge me $15,000 and keep the rest for themselves. I'd like to offer you $12,000 directly (plus all your expenses). Instead of helping an egg donor agency make money, please let's help each other!

About me:

I’m a writer who, believe it or not, used to write greeting cards for Hallmark (fun!). I’ve also written for Cosmo, Glamour and lots of other magazines. Now that I’m a freelance writer, I earn a good salary that lets me work from home, usually not more than 20 hours a week. Which means I’ll be both a working parent and a stay-at-home dad, emotionally but also physically present in my child’s life.

I recently spent several years trying to adopt a child from Vietnam. But the U.S. government abruptly shut down the program last September and—just like that—my Vietnam adoption ended. It was heartbreaking. That’s when I started exploring surrogacy. And the more I learned, the more I fell in love with the idea. Such a miraculous way to become a parent!

I have a surrogate. I just need to find a donor, preferably in the NY area, hopefully you! Does this describe you?

1. Super intelligent, with first-rate college credentials, grades and test scores to prove it. Sorry, but ABSOLUTELY no exceptions whatsoever.

2. Attractive. Of course it's subjective. So, while you can certainly stay anonymous, I will need to ask for photos.

3. In good physical health. Also, please be aware that you'll have to pass the clinic's medical, genetic and psychological screening.

Obviously I will ask for a fair amount of background information, but nothing that will force you to identify yourself. You can remain COMPLETELY anonymous! Just be sure to correspond with me from an anonymous email address (if you don't have one, they're very easy to set up at or I'll respond from an anonymous one as well. If we decide to work together, I'll refer you to my IVF clinic in Southern Connecticut---and they too will completely protect your anonymity.

Thanks for reading. I hope I hear from you!

Tuesday, September 1, 2009


I love a house party, especially the potluck kind. Remember when those existed? Your gracious host would provide the space, music and good-looking, intelligent friends who would swing through for a great time. Someone would bring some slammin’ mac and cheese, another couldn’t fry the chicken just right so KFC or Popeye’s made the menu along with dinner rolls, chips and dips, salads and whatever you favorite dish you were willing to bring. The key to the event was good company.

In 2009, things done changed. I’ve noticed all summer that folks hosting cookouts required guests to “bring a bottle.” Required? It’s not like they’re spot is some high-falutin, pretentious New York City club where two bottles of Grey Goose is required for table service. For Pete’s sake (who is Pete anyway?), it’s a home, maybe even yours so why is liquor mandatory?

I’m not one to indulge in alcohol so I would feel mildly annoyed by the obligation of bringing a “little sumthin’ sumthin’” bottle that’s not going to quench my thirst, much less make the back of my throat. The dollar amount isn’t the issue; it’s the principal. If someone invites me over, I’m cool with bring something but does it always have to be a bottle? And isn’t the entire purpose of the event to socialize? Does it always have to involve the inebriation factor? I guess I’ve been having a good time without the liqs that the bottle requirement seems well, a bit much. If guests were showing up to every house party or cookout with tofu patties and a box of powdered eggs from their local food pantry, that would be another story.

Next thing you know, the hosts will have a dress code to come in their crib: no timbs, doo-rags, uncollared shirts. Stylish is a must. No exception.

After buying my last bottle of wine, I started showing up with plastic cups, ice, and/or juice. And guess what, it was useful. Occasionally, I even showed up with my long hands swinging. LOL. The hosts didn’t need anything at all. In fact, some even wound up with an arsenal of liquor. I suppose they’ll hold it for a more exclusive fete or drink themselves into a stupor, OR, OR, hold onto the liqs until another person invites them to a bottle-only party. That way, they can tap their own cabinet.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Monday, August 17, 2009


Story #1

I ran into my neighbor recently and before I could ask her how she was doing, she garbled, "I don't have in my teeth. You have to excuse me.". Of course immediately, I started to stare while trying not to chuckle. She seemed embarrassed, trying to cover her gums with her top lip which only made the conversation more awkward and her words more jumbled.

Again, I tried not to stare but I wanted to see the color of her gums. Where they a healthy looking pink or was she a black gum mouth? As she mumbled along I wondered why she ventured outside of her house without her dentures and dared to apologize. It wasn’t as if she was taking out garbage or ran to open the door for the UPS person. It was a bright, hot sunny Saturday and she was standing outside of her gate/fence like security for the block but it apparently didn’t cross her mind that she would run into anyone that would want to talk to her.

Story #2

Euphoric from a fabulous weekend, the only thing I wanted to do was rest mine tired eyes, until an acquaintance offered to take me home. I was not about to pass up a free ride (my other option was a taxi) so I willing went. After a quick conversation in the car, I was about to make my exit strategy when ol’ boy asked if he could come to my place to use the bathroom. “What the frig?! We just left an event and he was two feet from the bathroom and all of a sudden the piss just hit him!?!?” Always gracious, I said, “Certainly.” Forty-two seconds later he emerged from the bathroom and hung around the kitchen. Then we waltzed into the living room and I offered him a drink, to be, once again gracious. Do you know this brother plopped himself down until 1 am! I had to ask him to leave three times and with the last request firmly said, “I’m trying to be nice and avoid saying get the frig out of my house so it’s time that you leave.” Grief…LOL

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy "Baller" Ice

Thursday, August 6, 2009


I don’t. I don’t want to marry you. Not yet anyway. That’s what I heard this morning on Regis & Kelly. Yes, I watch the show before work. Regis was out hosting Who Wants To Be A Millionaire so some dude was co-hosting with Kelly. He was rather uninteresting but I tuned in when he started talking about relationships, in a real way. After saying that he proposed to his now-wife in the parking lot of Outback Steakhouse without the permission of her parents, he said they had only been dating three months when he know “she was the one.” Three months? Wow. A brother can’t even have my home number in that time frame.

He went on to say that he couldn’t imagine himself dating someone for more than a year without proposing. Wow. That’s what I’m talking about. He kept talking and eventually said that he couldn’t see himself dating a woman for six years (like the show’s producer, Gelman) then proposing and having a year long engagement (again, like Gelman). Ol’ boy said seven years was too long and quite frankly, he could lose interest in that time as he suffers from ADD. Now, it’s different with his wife because that’s who he committed to go home to each and every night so there’s no reason to be “on the lookout” per se.

At this point in my life, I agree. Seven years? I might as well start college again as a freshman and acquire a double Masters Degree. I’m not saying I want a drive-thru relationship or husband, but I’ve gotten to a place where I know myself – and what I will and will not tolerate. Compromise is good; concessions are not. And let’s be honest – I may look and feel like a PYT but my eggs have a timer on them and seven years out isn’t the best look from where I stand. Besides, these are the best years of my life. I’ve figured out a lot of me and I'll venture to say that most people around me are on the same path to self-wisdom. What would be the hold up in getting engaged and married?

In some regard, I share ol’ boy's sentiments about suffering from ADD or just plain old distractions. If I’m dating someone for four years, chances are, I figured out three years prior that I want to be with him and yet, he’s not sure if I’m “the one?” How much longer should I “hang in there,” waiting for him to get on bended knee? Another four years? That’s ludacrous!

I know men often give their version of valid reasons for not being wedded and bedded. One guy I knew was dating a woman for about 2.5 years and she was waiting for him to pop the question. He didn’t. His reason? He wanted to marry her but he wasn’t together – meaning, he was living with roommates, had incurred a truck load of debt, etc. In his heart and mind, he knew that was the woman he wanted to spend his life with so he changed jobs to earn more, saved, paid off personal debt, bought a townhouse and a truck then proposed in year four. Why did he do all that? He said he didn’t want to offer his fiancée/wife a life in an apartment nor did he want his personal debt to become part of theirs. That made sense but then again, it wasn’t like he was 38; he was 27 when he proposed.

So what am I saying? I’m on the six month plan. In that time frame, I can figure out if the relationship is worth exploring on a more serious level. Six months in, you’ve probably seen the person butt-naked, tasted their so-so cooking, figured out he is a neat-freak, spend-thrifty, calls you every morning to hear your crusty voice, handy around the house, likes to cuddle during sleep, massages your feet like a ritual and, AND, received the thumbs up from friends and family - some anyway. The next six months for me is really organizing my thoughts and figuring out where the relationship is going. Sometime during this point, marriage should come up.

Gotta rock to a meeting folks (clearly I blog during work hours). To be continued tomorrow but chime in so far!!

BTW, the picture above is how sisters BE showing off their ring after waiting so damn long! LOL

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Thursday, July 23, 2009


Wealthy or at least well-to-do folks will tell you that one, if not THE key to financial success is multiple streams of income. I know many people are crying hard times and praying for financial blessings but when you hustle, legally of course, multiple streams of income can really make a lifestyle difference.

By definition hustle means to sell in or work (an area), esp. by high-pressure tactics; to be aggressive, esp. in business or other financial dealings. When used in slang we’re looking at: to earn one's living by illicit or unethical means; to cheat; swindle.

I thought about my many ideas and half completed projects and the odds and ends I'd done to make more money when what I could be doing was right in front of me, using the latter definition of hustle. For my NYC dwellers, how many times have you given money to a homeless, blind person on the train? Even better, the white can shaking man who almost yells at you to donate to the UMO - United Homeless Organization (he says there's an office at 42nd Grand Central Terminal but I've yet to come across it.) On top of that are the young folks saying, "I'm not out here selling M&Ms, Snickers, Starbust for no basketball team. I'm out here tryna earn some money to keep me off the streets." I buy a pack of M&M peanuts thinking I'm helping this young brother but after seeing him every morning sell six candy bars in one train and thinking there's 10 train cars in a ride and this young brother spends a total of 2 minutes pitching and selling, he's making $60/20 minutes or $180/hour. Anyone know a better hustle than that?

Then there's the blind man. I've seen him a few times one the A-train. I give him a dollar not because I care about his speech but my cousin is blind and dude isn't raking in the dough (nor begging on trains so whatever).

Let's not forget the break dancers spinning on their heads, jumping on the poles and rolling through the train as triplets. I give up a buck because the boom box belts out It Takes Two by Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock, which reminds me of my youth. That's a nostalgic dollar.

Saturday past, a dude sang a broke-down rendition of Man in the Mirror using his water bottle. Didn't inspire me so I kept my arms folded. Other folks felt differently. A short while ago, a man played the violin. I recognized his Mozart song but I only had $2 with me and I certainly wasn't about to part with 50% of my cash. That's when it dawned on me that all those dollars I'd doled out over the years, were sincerely given to random people but it's time that the coffers of the Betsy Fund swell.

I'm not a singer nor can I bring myself to concocting a story to beg for change but perhaps selling granola bars and individual packs of nuts will prove lucrative enough to pay my past due cell phone bill. I wish T-Mobile would stop texting me…

Seriously folks, turn that hobby into a legal hustle. I believe when you put effort into things that are close to your heart or you’re passionate about, things would out in your favor.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Tuesday, July 7, 2009


While the Obama administration is pushing for universal healthcare, I was gasping at a recent pharmacy visit. In an attempt to trim my budget, I decided to fill my prescription at Target instead of the small chain pharmacy I used in the past. Within thirty minutes my order was ready. Expecting to pay the typical $20 - $25, the signature pad read, “$50.00” “Fifty dollars!?!?,” I exclaimed. I said it again in pure shock. I’m sure the folks behind me heard as well as the pharmacist standing six feet away.

The customer service rep retrieved the handy ‘info about your medicine’ sheet and pointed out that if I didn’t have health insurance, the prescription would have cost $270. My first thought was that I would have left if right there for the next customer. As I paid for my prescription, I though about all the folks without health insurance and those with downright inadequate coverage. What did they do? Skip paying ConEd and live in the dark to pay for much-needed medicine? As for folks on fixed income, particularly the elderly, how did they manage?

Years ago I interviewed a therapist and something she said remained in the archives of my mind. “In this country, we treat illness. If we focused on wellness, we would eliminate a lot of illnesses.” Looking me directly in my eye, more frequently, my physician asks me if I need anything. If I let him, he would be my licensed pusher. I don’t need prescription for anything unnecessary and sometimes the ‘necessary’ can be treated, or rather prevented with a lifestyle change hence, wellness.

Later that day, I mentioned my hefty prescription cost to a friend who then stated that her husband had the same medical condition. His prescription was $300 before insurance. Despite the final cost, he decline at his wife’s insistence that he used natural remedies, which in his case worked. Since I paid for my medicine already, I intended to use every single drop – even if I had to give some to others!

I don’t if universal healthcare is the solution but as a paying small fortunes to treat illnesses isn’t it either… Your thoughts?

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Friday, June 26, 2009


Most people, especially the single ones want a good man/woman. When you find a good person and get marries/partner-up, you want him to be a good father/mother. I don’t.

In my growth, both emotionally and spiritually, good is like being a second-class citizen. I second class nothing. Because I’m great (see previous post), I can only pair up with someone that is equally great. Why should I settle for someone who cancels dates at the last minute? Or, someone who is a “workaholic” so he spends his days plowing away at the office? Better yet, a man who cheats on me? Really? You didn’t recognize my greatness so you crept out with the next chick? Thanks but no thanks.

During a recent church service, Reverend Floyd and Elaine Flake preached about what it took to be a good father. Check out the musts – straight from the pulpit below (yes, a sister takes notes in church). Some men can definitely use the reminder (some don't need it) and for folks that don’t have children yet, apply the same qualities to finding a great man:

1. ADJUST HIS SCHEDULE TO TAKE CARE OF THE CHILD. How many of us are sooo busy we can’t consistently spend time with each other? I coordinate brunches, dinners and ice cream dates with friends! I call myself spontaneously but oftentimes, I live according to my blackberry calendar. And with a child? What do folks with kids do - add ‘change Johnny’s diaper’ with a 15 minute reminder to the calendar? My take – make time for your kids – check their homework, have a family night, go to the botanical gardens, show up to a PTA meeting. For the folks that don’t have children yet, make time for the people that you love. Have brunch with your dad. Play cards with your siblings (for money of course) or have a ladies only roadtrip with your mom.

2. LIFESTYLE. Make sure your lifestyle is favorable and can be emulated by your child. Essentially, avoid be the best dope dealer, having the most baby mom’s or being a cheat. Cheaters never win.

3. HAVE THE WILL TO DO WHAT’S RIGHT FOR THE CHILD. Just because you don’t get along with baby mom’s, doesn’t mean you should shortchange the child. My take: you got along when you were sexing, so don’t act the fool now and walk away. Baby mom’s (or pops) impossible to deal with? Talk to your child directly and let them know you’ll be going on a particular day. Avoid talking to baby mom’s if she’s explosive; send her text or a postcard indicating when you’ll be picking up/dropping off YOUR child. Sometimes men take the cop out and say the kids are bad or the baby mom’s is bad or the man is bad but do you really want someone else raising your child? You can still be part of the village…

4. MAKE SURE YOU GAIN AS MUCH KNOWLEDGE AS YOU CAN ABOUT WHAT YOUR CHILD IS DOING WHEN THEY’RE OUT OF YOUR SIGHT. Cross examine if necessary. Going to Tristan’s house? Make his parents will be there instead of a harem of horny teenagers. I’ll even add, make sure know they’re email, Facebook, My Space, AOL, etc. addresses. A cursory glance at some children’s My Space will tell you that little innocent Sally isn’t so naïve when she’s posing like she’s on a photoshoot for King magazine.

5. DON’T BE EMOTIONALLY DISCONNECTED. You know those dads – the pomp and circumstance kind. The difficult to talk to kind. The absolutely so silently he seems like a mute kind. If you’re committed to being in your child’s life, you have to be available to talk, listen and dole out sage advice on almost anything. Paying the bills and buying everything a child wants is great but what really counts are the times that a child remember happy moments with their father – first movie, playing sports, shopping, etc. Smile at your child sometime…

Separately, an acquaintance wrote a nice commentary on MJ. Read here - I declined. There’s nothing else for me to do save prayer that his soul is rested and his family holds steadfast. Rest in peace, MJ.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Wednesday, June 17, 2009


The ex’s are coming out the woodworks – with their new boos. How awkward is it to see your ex with their new boo?

Not only did I run into an ex who was with his family – kid and baby mom’s – but a few days prior, it was another, more recent ex’s fiancé. We had not formally met but I recognized her, courtesy Facebook. She recognized me but I could tell that it was probably from a physical description by ol’ boy since he's a talker and probably described everything about me down to my eyebrow arch. Anyway, I met ol’ girl fiancé AGAIN and this time they were together. He beamingly introduced us. I shook her hand and with a million dollar smile, said, "Congratulations."
Honestly folks, thank the LORD that I looked amazing! I know it’s base but come on! Who wants to be the epitome of busted when you run into the next broad or man? I’m not taking anything away from ol’ girl…just saying, I’m great. I’m great. :-)

It’s really a weird situation though. I didn’t meet baby mom’s but I recognized her; I saw pictures of her. Doubt she recognized me because there would have been no reason for ol' boy to start flipping through the iPod of pics with his current girlfriend. In both instances, it was a smidgen surreal to see the other person.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Monday, June 15, 2009


Today, I found a young brother I worked with was stabbed to death. He was nineteen. As the news was related to me, I felt my heart sink and my stomach somersault. Folks in general are quick to dismiss young folks who have strayed from the straight and narrow. This kid – a kid really because who at nineteen was in their prime of adulthood? – was doing well at his second chance of life. He had dreams. He had goals. He was smart and crafty in a good way – he had legal hustle plans this time around. On top of that, he was a father.

He was a vivacious, respectful kid with a bright smile. He lived hard; there were age lines on his face that belied his young years but his robust energy and enthusiasm said otherwise. I tried not to cry as conversations merged into memories but my mind alternated between the senselessness of losing someone so young and trying to figure out what would possess another human being to kill someone else. Moreover, the mere strength and determination that it takes to stab someone is downright malicious and evil. I suppose if he were killed by a stray bullet – no less a loss – but one could chalk it up to wrong place, wrong time though in the end, it’s all the Lord’s time.

I sort of wonder when, where and how society to could fail another so much that their objective, conceivably, becomes homicide.

I pray for this young brother’s family and whatever religion or spiritual beliefs you have, I ask that you do the same.

- Betsy

Tuesday, June 9, 2009


So folks, it’s ax time. Worry naught mon amis, Betsy was not on the chopping block but a colleague offered some “helpful” tips to me before making her final exit at the j-o-b. Though I’m not next in line to be layed off, she mentioned that folks are watching me, not because I mess up, but because I do my job. Very well. Isn’t that insane? You would think that all the slackers, foul-mouthed offenders and band of folks who spend more time on smoke/coffee breaks than actually working, would be included in “restructuring” or “budgeting” justified layoffs.

I’m notorious for being aloof at work. I have a motto: "I’m here to work, not make friends. Understand that I will be amicable but friendships are a bonus.” Most people can’t begin to comprehend that because they’re so busy trying to kiss ass, save their ass or figuring out which ass is part of the in crowd of the week like Degrassi High. I, on the other hand, exchange pleasantries to everyone on the way to/fro my office and more often than not, keep my door is closed. People are downright nosy and the last thing I want to do is divulge my entire life to my coworkers who are notorious gossip-mongers. Not everyone is like this, but the gross majority, are.

The thing about my gig is that there’s a lot of leeway – to excel and screw up. For the most part, I supervise me and the same holds true for colleagues in my department. The only time I really need to speak with my boss is if I need time off or if there’s a situation that requires ‘management’ interaction. Other than that, I could go weeks without communicating with her. Besides doing my job, I dress professionally. Folks around the office look like they roll out of bed into the office. Every day I arrive professionally dressed and prepared to work, folks ask me if I was going on an interview. I despise that. Do people really think if I were going on an interview, I would make it a public announcement? Well actually, to be a jerk, I might actually confirm it... LOL.

Perhaps I’m still naïve but I still believe in being honorable at work. I refrain from sabotaging someone else in order to make myself look better. I’m great regardless – and not greater than the next person - just confident and great in who I am and because of that plus intelligence, being chic, amicable, happy and a good worker, it culminates to trouble. I could usurp the next person, “stealing” their job but that would still would be out of my control. People don’t understand that if they’re meant to be somewhere or have something, nothing and no one can interfere with the Lord’s plan.

I will say however, another colleague (whom I trust as a friend) and I spoke about improvements that need to take place in my department. She’s a director in another unit who recognizes my supervisors lackadaisical attitude isn’t helping to keep a tight ship. She suggested I send her a draft of ideas which she’ll present to the big boss (everyone’s boss) in another meeting. I think she’s trying to help put me in a supervisory role which is great but thus far, I shied away from it in part, for fear of seeming like I was undermining my boss. She loves her job. I love my job too but for vastly different reasons and the truth of the matter is that I don’t plan to be at my gig forever – one more year would be tops. But the more I think about it, it's time to go for mine and leave with a senior position than a lay one.

Anyway, anyone else in a similar situation or was layed off recently? Anyone outright fired or just want to do their job without the office politics but get drawn in because you’re minding your own business? Share away!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Tuesday, June 2, 2009


Seems like forever since Betsy had a good date. A friend recently mentioned going out on fifty dates this summer and now that’s become a personal goal. Forty-seven more to go!

I went to dinner with a man I’d met almost a month ago while on vacation. We didn’t exchange information initially but we ran into each other recently and this time, we both gave up the digits. Our initial conversation was almost 1 ½ hours and good too! We hung up because the hour grew late and we both had to go to work the next day. The funny thing is my sister was at my house and I told her he would have a maximum of twenty nights & weekend minutes. If I couldn’t extricate myself form the conversation at that point, I would give her a sign to call me so I could click over (knowing it was her) then tell him I had to go. Lol. I could have just cut the conversation short but my sister and I both found the latter scenario more funny.

Anyway, I never gave her a smoke signal. Our conversation was intelligent, witty, sarcastic, humorous and completely engaging. I could only hope that our date would be the same.

I was fashionably, but unintentionally late. The brother showed up thirty minutes early, which made his wait an hour. My bad. From the moment we saw each other though, we chatted it up! He looked a little different in his chocolate brown suit; the other times were social settings and he was getting his drink and two step on. I made a slick comment about having to walk around the car to open my own door. Best let him know to step up his chivalry. LOL. Anyhoo, dinner was amazing…not the food, but him. He’s attractive and intelligent and there was this ease between us. Sometimes you go on a date with someone and it is flatline (see previous post) and other times, it's pure lust; this was more intimate like a walk in the park holding hands or a foot massage (Betsy LOVES those).

He drove me home and we spent another hour talking in his car. I liked it. He sent a message when he arrived home and then again this morning. I really liked that. Whatever is brewing between us isn’t the wildfire feeling I described in the previous post; it’s more of appreciation and adoration. Hmmm…to be continued.

Anyone else had a good date lately…ever? Lol. Share here…

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Thursday, May 28, 2009


I'm starting to wonder if love or chemistry exists. On one hand, I am certain but on the other, there’s a big question mark.

For me, connection on many levels is instrumental and instantaneous, vastly different from the feelings I've had for the last few exes and the eligible gentlemen in my current dating pool. Quickly, these brothers flatline or wind up in the pal zone, which most men despise. Sometimes I like them in the pal zone because we can hang out and have a good time without being fraught with the pressure to call, not call, who called last, what time di you call, etc.

The last time I was really and truly interested in someone was several years ago. I've dated and been in relationships since then but I had to be "convinced" that the person COULD be a good match, though there was one person I was really into but we were in different stages of life with made us incompatible. For the former, I mentally compared notes based on socioeconomic status, charm, ability to gel well with my family and friends, etc. Sometimes a brother fell short but because he continued to pursue me quite intensely, I conceded even though I realized we weren’t completely compatible. Some brothers were definitely pal material or at best, worthy of the dating zone but being a mate was out of the question.

Though the ex and I were unable to make it forever as an au pair, there was a valuable lesson. When I saw him, I thought he was fat with a gap in his teeth wider than Anthony Anderson's. He was sweating profusely and my mission was to avoid eye contact. That fell through when the brother wobbled his way to me. I didn't want to talk but the first thing out his mouth made me laugh. Hysterically. We talked for five hours after that.

I didn't love him immediately but I liked his energy. Our chemistry was fantastic and that made me want more of him - on the phone and in person. And the same held true for him. We made the time to see each other and talk daily. And actually, for the years we spent together, there was only one day we didn't talk.

I write this because I met a man recently that I really like. I thought. We had good phone conversation but on the first date, he damn near flatlined. As the evening wore on, I highly encouraged him to have a third glass of pinot noir. He loosened up a bit and even made a few chuckle-worthy jokes. But, therein lies the problem - who wants to be, or rather, continue to date someone who is so dry that only inebriation makes them seem them seem palpable? Apparently, Jamie Foxx had a point…

I suppose I’m still looking for that connection…the one that makes my heart go pitter-patter and my lips curl up ever so slightly in a soft smile. I want to be interested and spend my mental free space thinking about that person.

Just musings…anyone out there feel like that anymore? Married folks?

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Tuesday, May 26, 2009


Betsy’s street game/ebonics/slang is terrible and I’m proud of it in most instances. However, recently at work (yes, the zoo), I said to someone, “Where’s the sun?” The guy responded, “On your mouth, on your teeth.”

With limited reference, I believed it to be a sexual reference – sun becomes son and my inference was became fellatio. When I approached a colleague about it, we wound up in a three way meeting. My colleague, male, also said he only knew it as a dirty/yellow teeth joke. Well, I only knew it as a sexual joke. In part, I think my indignance, propriety and sense of offense may have muddled the situation.

The person apologized though my objective was less about an apology and more about understanding professional boundaries. in retrospect, I could have asked others what their interpretation was, giving me more food for thought though the only way to clarify a situation like that is to go to the source. After a few minutes, the guy was reprimanded and I kinda feel bad but then again, I felt violated when he said it so…

Thoughts? Share them all here - the blogosphere!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Friday, May 22, 2009


Betsy’s birthday is approaching and the one thing that’s on my mind is the birthday lay. EVERYONE I know has gotten laid on his or her birthday EXCEPT BETSY!!!! LMAO. I’m either single and not willing to just sleep with some random person or traveling with my homegirls whom I love, but cumulatively, we’re the estrogen party. There was one time I came close to getting laid on my birthday but my party lasted into the early hours of the next day so even though the brother broke me off, it didn’t count. Sigh.

I thought there was a winner this year. Met an intelligent, witty, attractive brother a while ago who genuinely piqued my interest. After some time, he started acted weird, which led to whack and finally, a violation of his 90-day probationary period according to my good friend Steve Harvey. LOL. Truth be told, brother-man was getting LUCKY with the 90-day rule as Betsy likes to live by the 180-day rule. ☺ Anyway, I Donald Trumped his azz and fired him since he wasn’t on his j-o-b. In his next relationship he should date a cheerleader who will patronize him even when he loses like John Starks in the 1994 NBA Finals or a therapist who will someone to listen to him complain.

Understand that I’m not dismissing diseases, marriages and everything else in between; just saying that I wanted to sweat my perm out! Alas, another dry 25th birthday. LOL. My iPod is loaded with all my you-can-get-it-come-hither songs love songs in addition to two raps – Biggie’s I’m Loving You Tonight and L’il Wayne’s, Mrs. Officer – inclusive of all the accoutrements for accurately role play the latter.

Brothers, please note that this is not a plea for you to help me out. Quite the contrary. I’m certain that Diddy would hook a sister up (LOL) but if I want a one-off thing, I would have done so a long time ago.

Anyway, next year. Same time, different place. For everyone else, check out Kamasutra positions -

Shout out to all my folks in the Hamptons this weekend! Holler!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Tuesday, May 19, 2009


So Betsy was out getting her party on recently. I love to drop it like it’s hot and scrub the floor with it but, I’m also a selfish dancer – I like to dance solo. These days, I find that men either can’t dance, can’t follow my rhythm or they’re just interested in well, physically showing me what they’re working with. Save that for the women who like the in the club stuff Ursher sang about.

Anyway, I was dancing and this dude came over. My two-step sans drink was going quite well but I was also amenable to dancing with this brother. Key word dancing, not grinding. Folks, the dj starting playing Biggie Smalls, Method Man, Beenie Siegel and whatever ‘hard’ music you can think of that requires one to NOT dub. Why was this brother pressed up on me like a too-tight faux ponytail on a scalp? I tried to give him the hint by moving away but he kept pressing up. Frustrated, I stopped dancing completely and he just kept on keeping on. Even more so! I guess he wanted to show me just how much and how fancy his footwork was so he tried to press me up against the wall.

Though I’m young, I’m way past to point of being pressed up the wall, unless I really want to…and I’m at home. LOL. Seriously, brothers, that’s whack though I’m certain the men that are always seeking out big booty women will disagree (right, Mr. Papers? LOL).

Parting in the 90’s was much better when everyone danced. Men had to do the Kid-N-Play Kick Step or the Bogle while women did the Mike Tyson or the Butterfly. Sigh…I miss those days…

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Friday, May 15, 2009


I am annoyed when people ask if I have, or request my facebook address. Are you kidding me? You have my mobile number, home phone number, my momma's number, all eight of my emails PLUS you send texts and are one of my buddies on my bberry instant messenger as well as AIM. Do you REALLY need another mode of communication?

Quite frankly, Facebook, or rather FB as the hardcore users affectionately refer to it, is generally a waste of my time. My life is so full of things and people (some of which need to be cleared) that the last thing I need is to respond to a gazillion people on Facebook.

Finally though, I buckled to pressure and created a page. I saw MAD people from high school which was initially nostalgic but then I also spent a warm sunny Saturday twirling on FB with pseudo-socialization, updating myself on who’s married and who’s your baby daddy instead of going to Habana Outpost with the sidity folks and wonder breads.

One of my friends has become an online super sleuth, unearthing tidbits of information then turning it over into full storylines, akin to Days of Our Lives. I'm not mad at her; actually, I find it interesting especially when she shares the stories with me. I don't want to do the work but I sure don't mind knowing sometimes. And perhaps that in itself is the problem with FB and the other social networking sites – there’s so much information floating around – from your ‘status’ to who you know that one’s life becomes as public as a politician.

Anyway, I was "talking" to someone I went to high school with. We lost contact over the years but when I became one of her "friends" ol' girl started updating me about her life now and sent her digits. She even invited me to her birthday party! We used to rock hard in high school so instead of sending another delayed response, I called her. She never called me back. What kind of stupidness is that? And ol’ girl is STILL sending messages. What do we have to talk about because she certainly didn’t want to chat it up on the phone but wants to tell me her she’s married with children and where she lives?

Quite frankly, I don't want to be "friends" with her anymore. If it was a regular friend, whom I communicate with sans FB, I wouldn't care but here's this person I haven't spoken to in almost a decade and she's telling me everything under the sun via FB but ain't return a call? Nah, B.

Besides that, Kanye made a statement recently about not needing Twitter because everything it offers, he needs less. I cosign that ‘Ye!

Read the full albeit quick article here:,0,2813941.column

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

Monday, April 27, 2009


Today, I called out "under the weather". Nothing is physically wrong with me nor am I frolicking in the 82° weather NYC folks are currently enjoying. I woke up at the break of dawn with a list of things to do longer than Santa Clause’s. I have a notebook with things to do for the week, bberry calendar reminders (not real dates) of people to call, an ongoing “note” of things to buy, people to email and so forth.

So today, my calling out "under the weather" a mental health day. You know those days where your mind is everywhere else but the job at hand. Instead of being 90% inefficient, I sent a text to my boss and rolled over to fall back asleep. My mind is so bogged down by things, that it took an hour for me to fall asleep. I finally officially rolled out of bed around 11 am, still quite unrested. When your mind is heavy with things, sleep is an anomaly.

In the last three hours, I’ve been able to have breakfast (an experience almost forgotten) and made a salad for lunch. Then, my day officially began. I FINALLY wrote a message in my friend’s birthday card. Her birthday was six weeks ago. Since I was on the card-writing tip, I wrote another to my friend who had a baby seven weeks ago. The gift card has been tucked in my bag for five weeks because I didn’t have a stamp.

When did life become so complicated and busy for no damn reason? Honestly, I took off a day to catch up on emails, write cards, organize shoes and eat two meals at a reasonable pace because lately I’ve had five minutes for lunch. Maybe that’s why my tummy seems more upset these days.

I used to be way more organized and now I do things on an as needed basis. Like today. My cable box had the “- - - -” instead of the time. For all the folks that pay their cable bill on time, the dashes mean your joint is off. And if you have the triple play package, your phone and internet will be shut down momentarily. The sad part is before your services are interrupted, you get a letter…maybe three. That’s a problem because opening mail is on the bottom of the list. Then there are the phone calls. I check vm about one/month so that’s as good as not calling.

I called the cable company because those overcharging suckers must have made a mistake. In my haughtiest voice, I asked the customer service representative when was the last payment made. Surely it was last month. Ol’ girl said February. Oh.

Anyone have perfect work-life balance? Hollers because I need to get organized, focused and back to living instead of existing. Can’t keep playing hooky to pay bills…

Thought this was funny -

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

Wednesday, April 22, 2009


I recently saw this broad with super fake eyelashes that may have looked good two weeks ago but not the day I saw her. A considerable middle portion of the faux eyelashes was missing. Imagine: a person has 4 cm of eyelashes. 1 cm of eyelash on the left, 2 cm missing in the middle and 1 cm missing on the right. It’s like having beautiful white teeth – all except the two front toofs. LOL.

Eyelashes are a style, perhaps even for special occasions but not every single day like you grew them. No, you glued them.

I know a woman whom I met her four years ago who ONLY wears fake eyelashes. Even when there's a single, solitary lash remaining, the glue is showing and it’s hanging off like a stray strand, ol' girl still rocks it. How long does a person have to keep fake eyelashes on to make them drop off because the "full lashes" in the picture is like an overgrown bush on your eyes! And she blinks continuously like a cartoon character trying to woo a man. I'm all for trends but there comes a point when you have to be first partaker.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

Monday, April 20, 2009


The only thing worse than nappy chest hair is exposed butt cracks. I despise the sight of some oversized woman squeezed into a size 4 pair of jeans. It’s bad enough that the fat rolls are hanging over the front buttons/tabs but when ol’ girl sits down, you can see her black azz. Absolutely repulsive. When she stands, she’ll try to pull up the pants to hide the booty, but had she wore her size to begin with, I would not be subject to ashy azz.

On the flip side are these young dudes walking around with their jeans BELTED around their knees. Showing off designer drawers is only sexy when you’re with your significant other (and at that point – who cares? They’re probably coming off anyway. LOL.) When they sit down, nothing but ASHY AZZ. Yuck. Has anyone heard of lotion?

Ladies and Gentlemen, please don’t let me see you this summer showing cracks like the broad in the picture. Ol’ girl didn’t even know I was taking the picture.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsty Baller Ice

Sunday, April 19, 2009


Why do men still bother to whip out cell phones, pen and paper in a club?

I was at a few soirees recently and dudes were on the, “Can we exchange information?” tip. At this point in my life, the last thing I want to do is fumble around my bag for my phone or even worse – pen and paper – to jot down my digits. When I asked these brothers if they had a card, they looked startled. I know it’s a social event but sometimes that’s the best time to meet someone, whether for pleasure later or business (there’s a lot of hand-shaking and back-slappin’ when folks are “nice”). My business card case is closer than my phone so I handed one brother my card. He said, “Oh, is this a business transaction?” Silly. Every interaction is a transaction; it just depends on how you categorize it.

The following day I was at another party full of Friday nighters – the folks who epitomize the old school song “Just got paid…it’s Friday night…party hunting…” kind. Men were TROLLING for women. It was just awful. One brother came right up in my face and I asked him if he was blind because he had sunglasses on in an already too dark club. He said I was gorgeous. While that is true (☺), he tried to justify the situation by saying he was hung over. I’m really digressing. Back to the exchange. So, I met another brother and gave him my card. He said he didn’t have a “card in a club” but would be right back because he wanted to write his information on my card.” And herein lies my annoyance. He wound up coming 'round five minutes later with his number, email, ss#, height, weight and measurements on a napkin that was certain to get lost. Whack. Whack. Whack.

I understand if you only have "work" cards but then say something clever like my friend MT put it, "Drop me a line or call me and we can exchange information when he can hear each other and not get jostled on the dance floor." That's mature. And finally, when I do give out my information, it's because I want to talk. Don’t send a text, IM or email. That is supplemental communication. Use the phone and call after 9pm if you’re hoarding day minutes.

Finally, finally, when a man is insistent on giving Betsy his number, I simply say, “Sir, thank you for the offering to stay in contact but I am certain I’m not going to call you. Ever.”

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

P.S. - the image is really a business card.

Thursday, April 9, 2009


People love to bring their kids to work which inevitably becomes a side show when other folks start fawning all over them. I love children but to be frank, I’m just not interested in my colleagues’ kids. Despite the cooing and the fire-drill like commotion, I’m trying to work – complete projects that my damn supervisor (one of the biggest cooers by the way) need – before the end of the day.

For me, a baby or toddler is not a new phenomenon. I grew up in a relatively large household. Babies cry and burb. Dirty diapers have to be changed. Bottles have to be warmed. Similac tastes nasty. Toddlers snatch your lollipop and when you snatch it back, they start crying and your mother starts yelling at you that you should have never taunted the child with the lollipop when all you do was take two licks of a grape Blowpop. I digress.

Though I’m not a parent yet (thanks to all the gentlemen that submitted applications over the years), the last thing I will want are strangers breathing their hot, heavy breath all over my baby AND touching them. My mother always warned against touching baby’s hands and feet UNLESS you washed your hands because those limbs are the first ones that go in a baby’s mouth. I know I still like my toes sucked. LOL

I usually feel obligated at some point to say “Oh, you’re child is so adorable,” without breaking my stride to a meeting or the bathroom. My life is filled with beautiful, intelligent children in the form of a niece, Godchildren and the offspring of my friends and family. Outside of that, someone else’s random child doesn’t register on my radar though every so often, a child is so beautiful or they are surrounded by good energy that I have to utter a heartfelt, “Your child IS adorable.”

Lastly, pictures. Parents, please know that if a colleague has never inquired about your child’s behalf, they’re probably not interested in their life. Stop sending pictures. Also, stop telling people that your “son is in the office today. He’s Minnie Me.” Thanks for the heads up. I’ll be sure to avoid your office today.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

Wednesday, April 1, 2009


A little something I wrote while at the Laundromat. Enjoy ☺

I'm sitting at the Laundromat watching someone's plaid boxers spin in the dryer when one of the owners/workers/whomever goes to retrieve the patron’s now-dried clothes. This broad starts dropping MAD clothes on the floor! Socks, shirts, sheets and drawers! Now, someone just paid 80¢/lb for drop-off service only to receive dirty drawers. The dude that will have to wear those drawers may as well rub his nuts on the floor as far as I'm concerned. Just nasty. She didn't even try to shake some of the dirt off...looked more like she intentionally rubbed the floor with them like it was a dust mop…without the stick!

See folks, my OCD won't allow me to drop-off my clothes, suffering through the incessant megaphone-like chatter of two Chinese broads. Yup, I'm calling them Chinese. Forget that politically correct "Asian" ish today. I'm straight up annoyed with the broad running the joint.

I spent my hard-earned $3.50 to wash and the damn rinse and spin cycle went berserk so what happened? My frickin' clothes tumbled out soapy!!! I love some Tide but when I saw all my clothes foaming like a bubble bath, I called her over. And guess what? The damn broad doesn't speak A WORD OF ENGLISH! I'm not against immigrants but c'mon. You want my money and can't provide a English? I just spent $16.25 just to wash and had to break a Jackson just redo an entire load – just for a better rinse. On top of everything else, the broad only understands gestures and guess what? She touched my clothes! See, when you have to gesture mofos get all touchy-feely. Her clammy hands were just picking crabmeat out her teeth (for real) and what was left over was wiped on that man’s drawers. Ill. Floor dirt and crabmeat; that’s one unlucky dude.

Part II:

I took a break from writing, thinking the saga was over, but no way.

I'm still waiting for my “rinse only” load while others dry. My shopping cart is in the rear, near the washers and my back is turned. Why did this raggedy azz white dude walk in who look like he could use a tumble in the washer himself? He just smiled but I'm really laughing at him. He was putting is dusty clothes (maybe he was driving in the desert?) in a machine next to mine. I had to hurry up and move my shopping cart before my "need to line dry" clothes was coated with dust like the kid in Charlie Brown. What’s his name anyway?

Part III:
Wait, I really thought this blog was done. The devil is a liar!!!!

This brother looking like a Bob Marley reject walks in with 3 big bags of dutty clothes then disappeared. Remember now, I moved my shopping cart to a safe location to avoid the dust flying from the raggedy white guy. The Bob Marley reject just resurfaced with about 7 more bags! Then presumably, his main woman came in smiling at me with a big bow in her hair like Dorothy. If that wasn't enough, the broad used the stool reserved for short people to add detergent, to turn the tv channel. It's midday and there's no frickin' cable to watch CNN but that doesn’t seem to bother her so she attempts to turn to another station for what? A soap opera. SMH...

Clothes, please hurry up and finish...LMAO

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

Tuesday, March 31, 2009


First, let me say that though I'm not a fan, I am reading Steve Harvey's book, Act Like a Woman, Think Like a Man. Steve is not overly prolific nor is he Einstein but, he writes/doles out “advice” that make sense; things that I knew but needed a refresher on, from the male perspective.

In the book, he writes about gold diggers. Essentially, some men label all women gold digger and according to Steve, "Men have it set up so well that we’ve got women thinking that if they remotely expect a man to pay for their dinner or buy them a drink at the bar or set any financial requirement for their man, they're a gold digger." Part of me is shaking my head at that. What independent, money-earning, self-respecting sister would have that!?!? But, if there are brothers out there like that, there are sisters willing to accept a man’s foolishness.

Now, gold diggers do exist and Betsy’s version is this: any person (brothers included) who wants someone else to purchase something they damn well can't afford. For instance, any date I go on, I can always cover me + ol' boy if I had to under an extreme circumstance (dude got jacked on the way to meet me) + my taxi ride home. Now, if a person says, "I know this is our second date but I need you to pay my rent this month. You got me?," ol' girl/boy is a gold digger. Ditto for the broads who believes each date is worth someone buying her a Louis Vuitton bag (what to men try to trick women for anyway? Electronics? Brothers, please advise.)

Anyway, the bigger issue is not gold digging; whomever you are, you're getting played. Let go of leeches in your life.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

Tuesday, March 24, 2009


I’m not a fan of anything or anyone that makes extra work for me so when I see people scooping up dog poop in a plastic bag, I chuckle inwardly. Other times, I see people looking downright downtrodden, like they’re on their last walk of life and yet there they are, gripping the leash of a dog. I like quiet pets like fish. They add to the décor of my bookshelf, never make a sound and they seem to always be at ease.

Then there are the people with dogs that are the size of ponies. What NYC-apartment can accommodate a 4-ft tall dog? What does the bark sound like? A bullhorn in your ear? What about the dog fart? I bet that smell permeates the air quick fast and the owner has to grab a gas mask! What’s even more annoying is the people that convene on the corner with the dogs like it’s a convention. After a long day of work, the last thing I want to do is try to scoot by 8 barking dogs when I’m trying to get home. Those folks have the audacity to look annoyed at Betsy because I don’t want to stop to pet their Rottweiler with the drooling fangs. Sure…

Finally, the kissing and licking (which I only reserve for my boo!). My stomach goes topsy-turvy when I see people bending down to kiss a dog on the mouth and have their face licked. Inevitably the dog starts humping the person, who clearly enjoys it. The wet-faced person is hooting with laughter and the dog is barking loudly. The next thing you know, you have bestiality. LOL.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

Saturday, March 21, 2009


Yes, yes folks! I’m back to writing. Two weeks felt like an eternity.

A few things happened in my hiatus from you:

Story #1: My friends and I went to a party and afterwards, Friend A cops the digits of a dude. The next day Friend B tells me the dude sent her a message saying tell her friend (Friend A) to delete his number because he wants to holler at her (Friend B). Dude acquired Friend B's number from his homeboy who was trying to holler at her but couldn't make the party. The guy that initially hollered at Friend B told the grimey dude to take care of her (which meant swinging us into VIP). Can dudes be any more shadey? He doesn’t even know the nature of the girlfriend relationship – perhaps Friend A and B are best friends, cousins, whatever. On top of that, he’s violating his friendship with his boy who hollered at Friend B. Makes my trifling list.

Story #2: A friend once said Betsy works at a zoo after I gave the synopsis of the foolishness that continually transpires in the office.

I recently attended a group work event and at the end, naturally, people heading home in the same direction - as in riding the same train - tend to travel together. Our little group started out as five but after too much milling about two of us, myself and a male colleague, decided to jet. A few days later, another colleague (aka Nutzo) dramatically runs in my office saying, "I'm going to scratch your face," and "Meet me at 6 pm because it's going down." What the frig is this? Junior high school where people schedule fights? I just looked at her like, "What does this pesticide want?" Apparently, another colleague who was not in the original group of five but was told by someone else that Dude left with me. Ol’ girl then told Nutzo who used to date Dude and poof! was the office gossip of the day. "They left the event together. Something must be brewing between them," the non-busy Coffee Clutchers whispered. How trifling. The only thing I’m interested in at this point is winning a few hundred bucks for our college basketball pool. That’s a trip to St. Thomas!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

Wednesday, March 4, 2009


I Corinthians 13

For the first time in my life that I can remember, I’ve given up on love. Just absolutely positively don’t believe in it.

I woke up today just after 6 am feeling fantastic. The sun was shining, I felt good energy and was looking forward to productive day. Then something happened. I read a chapter of II Corinthians then flipped to my all-time favorite, I Corinthians 13. I love that chapter because it tells me everything that love isn’t, is and how grand it really can be which encourages me to keep believing. Not today.

Things started to go downhill when I could hardly remember the chapter. This was a chapter that has warmed my heart for years yet most of the words eluded me. Then, very unexpectedly, I started thinking about my past relationships. Most of those men I could have lived without but I went against my spirit, allowing my mind and treacherous heart to dictate. Obviously, those relationships ran amuck.

The thing is, though I look amazing, internally, I’m terrible. I feel like the fat 8th grade kid with knee-length shorts that roll up when I walk. Now I’m in a gym class getting ready to play dodge ball and the team captains have been chosen. I’m hoping and praying that I won’t get picked last. It’s down to me and another kid – the one that wears glasses and has one leg shorter than the other. “Please pick me,” I silently pray. I don’t want to be last but my name isn’t even called. The short leg kid is called to a team and I, fat kid walked over sullenly to a team that doesn’t want me.

Who is that team? Love. Team love. Team love doesn’t want me. It doesn’t matter how much I pour into it, into him, it doesn’t seem to be reciprocated. I try to work with brothers, find the potential in them but that leaves me with the short end of the stick. Laying on my back this morning, hot, silent tears streamed over my cheeks to eventually become a damp-puddle like mess on my pillow. I’m not depressed nor am I PMS-ing; I’m just sad. What’s even worse is that I have a presentation in an hour and I’m still tearing up. Thank goodness for glasses and the fact that I recently had the flu which will account for my slightly puffy eyes and sniffling. URGH! Heartache is so real!

I meet men. Lots of them. They’re great on paper, everything I could want. Mr. Master’s Degree, Ivy-league grad, lawyer, doctor, Wall Street exec. You name it, they’re hollering (yes, present tense). But guess what, all that good on paper means nothing to me. I don’t care if you graduated from Yale or Harvard. If you’re a good, blue-collar man that graduated from a trade school and you make me happy, that’s good enough. And honestly, I don’t even care about your educational background as long as you contribute to my happiness. I have three degrees. That’s enough for both of us. Furthermore, none of my degrees are making me any money now.

So folks, Betsy is having a horrible day. Love makes me sad today. I’m tired of being chosen last or somewhere in the middle. Why is your work more important than me? Why are other people more important than me? Why are material possessions more important than me? You should love me enough to forsake all others.

When I had the flu, where were these dudes? Nowhere but truthfully, I didn’t call them because laying in my bed with an almost 103˚ fever, I realized they didn’t mean much to me either. (One did encourage me to feel better soon so we could go to dinner. Like I was intentionally slowing up my healing.)

There was one guy I thought about. An ex, which is perhaps part of the reason I’m all broken-up. I still f*cking love him. My heart and body loves this man even though my mind and spirit know he’s not right. He’s never going to just fight for me. Just drop everything in the world to meet me at work because I’m having a terrible day or pick up the kids from school because I have a migraine or call out sick with me to watch movies in bed all day. He’s not going to do that and it sucks. My spirit is yelling at my heart to let go of him and sometimes my spirit wins. Today, my spirit loss. Got knocked in the head with the damn dodge ball!!

On better day, I want MY team captain to want me on his team. I want him to hope and pray that he wins the coin toss so he can choose me first. And only me.

A departure from my usual musing but maybe I’ll feel better later to right something funny.

Lata Lovelies,

Monday, March 2, 2009


In the midst of analyzing friendships I found pictures of exes. Some, like Diddy, I’m still cool with but the others…what should I do with their picture? What do you do you’re your ex’s picture?

There’s one dude who’s doing well for himself but I used to accidentally take the most jacked up pictures of him. I’m talking tight, tight t-shirt that looks like he borrowed it from a toddler when brother wore a 2x. His stomach was hanging out; his gold-rimmed glasses were lopsided as was his gap-toothed grin. He really wasn’t as ferocious as I’m making him seem now but back then, Cloud 9 clouded my judgment. Anyway, there’s this little part of me that wants to keep it because if he ever becomes rich and famous before me I can sell it to a tabloid for some quick cash. I suppose I could just throw it away…

Then there are the videos. Understand this – ain’t no man gon’ make any PG-13+ rated video with me in it – and expect to keep the footage. Brothers, however, have been ‘generous’ and allowed me to make videos of them and take the most charming pictures. My favorite is a guy wearing my hair bonnet…and nothing else. I know, it’s terrible to put his business out there but I didn’t say his name and it sure is a funny picture.

A male friend said he ‘meant’ to delete his ‘sex with his ex’ videos from years ago – including the ones of his baby mom’s. Is he holding on to it for the everyone-bring-your-homemade-video-and-we-can-make-it-the-America’s Funniest, Awkward Sex/Intimacy Videos party? I suppose my paranoia always kicked it and saved me...

But seriously, does anyone really delete videos, pictures, etc?

Wonder what the married folks did with their single days stuff…hold on to it and when you're mad at your spouse, head to the basement and reminisce? LOL. Or did you discard before you said your vows. Just curious...

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

Thursday, February 26, 2009


For a while now, I’ve been assessing my current friendships. My inner circle folks aren’t going anywhere but it’s everyone else that I posed this internal question – what value do you/they add to my life?

There’s no monetary value on friendships but you can’t be a financial drain either so I refuse to spot you every single time we go out. More than that though, spending time bickering or ‘debating’ too many conversations can become a drain.

The situation: I thought I had a good relationship with a friend until he started acting crazy, literally. He always had something slick to say about the next man and I’m like, “Dude, really?” I kept telling him the line of conversation was not cool and his cavalier ways were offensive. He apologized but this last time, no apology was needed. I simply explained that I grew weary of this incessant battle of what had become a tumultuous friendship. We no longer had anything to talk about. I deleted his info.

After that, I felt so good that I deleted several more people. There are 386 names of people in my blackberry and some I have no idea who they are. There are others whom I just don’t talk to anymore so guess what? They were deleted. I realized that I was holding on to people, creating pseudo-relationships when the truth of the matter is some people just don’t matter to me any more, or perhaps, never did. For instance, the dude I met at a club…wanted to dance until my legs fell off and when I tried to escape, he wanted to talk my ear off. Brother would not even leave my side until I added his mobile and email to my contact list. He even wanted me to promise to contact him. LOL. I digress.

So, folks if you send a text or call and I say, “Who is this?” it’s because you’re out. You were a season, a reason but not a lifetime.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

Monday, February 23, 2009


After a certain age, dating a younger person is a far cry from robbing the cradle. Who cares if he's six years my junior? Stop your young-men-are-in-style-celebratory-dance Mr. Papers!

A colleague and I were out and there was this one guy that would not leave my peripheral vision. We were checking each other out hard core and eventually, and I do mean eventually, we would up in a group conversation. To my utter mortification, my colleague asked his age and then replied, "Oh you're so young. You're just a baby." From where I stood, giving him my 'best' angle at that, nothing about him said baby. He was a grown azz man.

Eventually ol' girl peeled off and not a moment too soon. She was wrecking all the designs I had on that man. And that beard thing was really working for him! We exchanged information and he's been very diligent about following up and planning dates. He is one scrumptious piece of man!

Back to the age thing. Who cares? I'm not planning to marry him. Right now, he is some really good arm candy and every so often, you need a PYT.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

Friday, February 20, 2009


You know the type – they want to be in your face all the time for free, take you to free places and balk at paying $20 to get in a party. Bum Brothers.

Recession, recession, recession my eye! People are going out, having a good time AND spending moderately. My friends and I were commenting on a set of brothers we know that refuse to pay $20 to get in a party (shout out to LW, DM). I’m not talking about a weekly event either; say once every six months and the dudes are still beefing saying, “No pay to play.” Back in the day, dudes ALWAYS had to pay to get in a party. How many First Saturdays can you attend? How many times can you do Happy Hour in Turtle Bay or Moe’s? How many house parties can you attend and never bring a thing except an empty stomach and a thirsty throat?

Times have certainly changed and there is clear role reversal. A group of women will go out and have a good time no matter the cost. Some brothers would rather mope around their neighborhood in search of the next free thing.

Last year, my homeboy and I went to some love-me-turn-my-key thing. $35. Neither of us flinched. I went to an event the other day. $125. Didn’t flinch. I’m certainly not balling out of control (yet), but I’m not beefing over small money like a few Jacksons.

I prefer to hang with dudes that will pay for everyone in our group to party. Or, if we’re a group of eight dining, a brother or two will cover the tab. And it’s reciprocal. If there’s a concert we want to attend, I cop the tickets. Sometimes it’s as simple as a cab ride. $27.30. I’ll handle that.

My friend came up with a term for these bum brothers – contagious. Don’t hang out with them because they may infect you with their cheapness. Treat them like someone with the TB, put a cloth over your mouth and turn the other way. No, run because they’ll try to wear you down and take you to free ish that happens at Habana Outpost.

Finally, before the brothers get their boxers in a bunch, it's not the dollar amount; it's the attitude. It's alright to dip in the coin jar occasionally but you still haven't saved a Jackson in six months to party? SMH... And yes, there are bum chicks. They are the ones that are always bumming a dollar or five or twenty here and there. The next thing you know, you’ve 'unburdened' yourself of $200 because the chick doesn’t like to come out her pocket. Treat those chicks like the plague too because they don't know what reciprocity means.

It’s alright for women to be on the free-free-frugal-frugal tip (especially with each other) but a brother? Nope. Bum. LOL. Yup, double standard.

More fiyah! More fiyah!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice