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