BETSY ICE

WHAT ARE YOUR RELATIONSHIP DEAL BREAKERS?

2011-08-19T16:02:00.002-04:00

Recently, a friend hooked me up on a blind date. She had described the man and he too, gave me a concurrent account: dark skinned, 6”4’, low Caesar haircut, and athletically built. My friend also mentioned that he was close to our age. When I met the fellow, I immediately thought forty years old. I would need a telescope to see forty since it’s so far off.

We had a pleasant enough dinner, wherein I discovered he was forty-seven years old. He would be better off dating my mother, I thought, but decided to enjoy the time together anyway until he uttered some deal breaking words. He was recently divorced from his wife of eighteen years, with whom he had four children. Two of his "children" are close to 25, and the youngest is a senior is high school. You know what that means? They talk back. I can’t deal with a man that has grown kids whom I’m more likely to be partying that rocking the step-mommy title.

So folks, this post is inspired by that date, an unexpected bonus. Oh yes, Mr. 47 and I are not going out again. It was an unspoken farewell message in our good night hug.

Without further adieu, part 1 of my deal breaker list (in no particular order):

1. Reggae. If a man despises reggae, we are not going to make it. I need a dub in a club, basement bashment, wave yuh rag kinda man. Someone who enjoys Beres and Sanchez in concert. Listens righteous music, beyond an occasional Bob Marley track and enjoys old school dancehall, not that Vybez Kartel spin me like a satellite dish ting. Chuh. Will do his best to dance the reggae set at a party. Just try is all I'm asking. Stoosh man nuh fuh me.

2. Teeth. If a man’s teeth are different lengths, shapes, colors, or visibly missing, we’re not going to make it. The minute I see that, my face will scrunch up in horror.

3. PDA. I am all touchy feely in public, and if a man doesn't like that, it's okay. There’s some other woman out there for him who will throw anti in front of public displays of attention.

4. Bruk. Sure, being a conservative spender is smart, but a man who complains of thin pockets ALL THE TIME is just more that I can bear. The minute he figures out I have a coin jar to shake out at TD Bank, he’ll want to tap the coffers or mention how much he’d like to take me out but this isn’t a pay week and funds are low so maybe I can pick up the tab this time. Again.

5. Cook. I know men like a woman who can cook, but I like a man who throws down in the kitchen and backyard. Know how to use a barrel? Psh. Major points. And yes, I can cook. In fact, the kitchen is my favorite place in my house, and I love cooking for two with my boo.

Have a few deal breakers to share? Post 'em in the comment section. Part 2 of mine will post next week.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

ANECDOTE TUESDAY: LAUNDRY LUNACY

2011-08-09T18:13:00.003-04:00

Some things just don't change, like my Laundromat habits. I was going to write another laundry lunacy story, inspired of course by my new supply of disinfectant spray, which still makes babies and grannies choke and others stare at me with annoyance, but decided to pull a post from the archives. :-)

Since the last laundry post, I switched establishments. The new Laundromat attendant told me I couldn't spray disinfectant in the machines "because the owner said so. It damages the machines." So you know what I did? Sprayed the machine anyway and told her to tell the "owner" that until I see him clean these machines, I need to spray for my own safety. After, she was done coughing, she rolled her eyes and let me wash my clothes in peace.

The post:

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 genitals 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 two broads running this Laundromat.

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 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 service...in 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 people 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 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 Ice

ANECDOTE TUESDAY: COUSIN MARIA GOES TO A BUFFET

2011-07-12T22:35:00.005-04:00

Claridge Casino, Atlantic City, circa 2006.

My mom, sister, several cousins and myself headed to Atlantic City for a ladies-only day out of food, shopping, and a little bet on black. Cousin Maria went with us. She had never visited Atlantic City, but heard of it but and was fascinated by what she called one arm bandits (slot machines). More impressive to her though, were the food options: she didn't think so many restaurants could exist in one building. She RARELY dined out because she didn't trust other people cooking her food. But that day, she made an exception.

My mother suggested we head to the buffet for lunch and everyone complied except me because I detested food left in the open. She convinced me that the "trick" was to wait at a station until a "fresh batch ah food come out." I did.

When we first arrived however, Cousin Maria loudly said, “Whattah lottah food at dis buffet!” pronouncing the last word like the surname of Warren Buffet instead of "buf-fay." Raucous laughter ensued, but my Cousin Bailey, the family matriarch, was incensed—and embarrassed. In addition to her mispronunciation, Cousin Maria held up the line by arguing with the attendant who neglected to return her change. Loudly she said, "Don’t try fuh pilfah me money!"

Cousin Bailey quickly ushered her to a seat to diffuse the growing spectacle. When we all finally sat down to eat, Cousin Maria said the attendant neglected to give her "her copper change."

"What? One pennie yuh mi di argue 'bout?" Cousin Bailey said. As she spoke, Cousin Maria, who in short order had managed to pile two plates full of food, started wrapping up all her fried chicken and biscuits in napkins. She quickly pulled out some plastic baggies and stuffed corn on the cob, string beans, and mashed potatoes in each of them. Then, taking furtive glances, she stuffed all the items quickly in her large brown purse and zipped it close. We all stared at her. Aghast.

"What are you doing?" Cousin Bailey asked, disgust lacing her voice.

"I don't want di food fuh run out so I wahn save mine fuh later. Look how much people dey pon line. And dem onli big! Look at dem bellie!" Cousin Maria said pointing. "By de time all ah dem come een, di food wahn done off. De sign mi sey all you can eat but ah 'fraid the manager change him mine and limit we. Dey done teef me monie, but dey nuh wahn teef me outta food"

ANECDOTE TUESDAY: NATHAN'S HOT DOGS

2011-06-28T20:30:00.000-04:00

I recently found an old print ad I designed during undergrad; I majored in advertising and graphic design. I was a good designer, but un-noteworthy. I was however, a better writer. I was smart. On design teams, I always volunteered to write copy, something designers hated. Me? I loved it.

During one semester, my classes were centered on creating single-page ads for a myriad of consumer products that ranged from beer to crayons and bread to greeting cards. My favorite, however was hot dogs, which to my dismay, drew the scorn of my professor.

“Who’s work is this?” he asked, pointing to my work on the class critique board. Every student was required to display their work on this board, often scotch taping the corners or push pinning the white border to prevent display damage. My work was pinned with pink pins, which complimented my very green ad.

I raised my hand as high as my right ear. I was proud of my work. Sort of, anyway.

“What was your inspiration for this ad?” he asked. The sneer in his voice made me want to hide.

“Well, my product was franks,” I started. “And, I thought I would try something a little different. You know, funny,” I said smiling. I glanced at my work and wanted to laugh. I thought I was witty, and better yet, my work, hysterically engaging.

“Where would this type of ad run? Out? The Advocate? It certainly discourages me to buy hot dogs. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever eat another based on this ad.”

My classmates started to chuckle. I didn’t think it was bad. Maybe I could design it better, I thought. But, the concept is still good.

“While I’m at it, let me take a seat. This ad also discourages me from standing.”

So rude and pompous. Even though I felt like my professor had unnecessarily raked me over the coals, I miraculously found the nerve to defend my work. “Um, I was actually thinking bigger than gay publications. I think my work is more suiting to a Times Square billboard. You know, since it’s attention grabbing.”

My professor moved on, in disdain, to the rest of my classmates work.

****

I found the ad on a CD recently, and since it still made me laugh, thought I’d share it with you folks as well. I had to resize it so you can read the text, but figured it could be something else to talk about during your Fourth of July festivities…especially the tag line.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

ANECDOTE TUESDAY: FOOT BLACK

2011-06-21T23:57:00.004-04:00

Though my parents sent me to a tiny, predominantly White parochial school, me, along with most of the "ethnic" students wound up riding the same van, driven by Mr. Poland to school. Incidentally, Mr. Poland was Filipino.

Most of the young kids sat in the front, and although I was only in the third grade, had to sit in the second to last row of the silver four-row van. The latter rows were reserved for the upper classmen of our school—the 6th, 7th, and 8th graders. Since I was one of the last kids to be dropped off, I forced to sit in the back.

One day, out of rudeness, a twice-left back seventh grader named Shareece took off her shoe and extended her leg along the window’s edge so I could see her dirty, blackened foot. And smell them. I was two minutes away from home, and was hoping she would not harass me that day as she often had. Apparently not. As tears hot, silent tears started streaming down my cherubic face, all the upper classmen, including Shareece started to laugh. Loudly.

As I exited the van, I saw my mother waiting for me. She took one look at me and started yelling.

"Whey di azz yuh de cry fah?" Though her tone was gruff, I knew she wasn't upset with me; she was concerned...and probably panicked.

As I started telling her the story, Mr. Poland was getting ready to close the door and drive off.

"Just you wait a minute," my mother said to Mr. Poland and stepped closer to the van. She had code-switched to standard American English so he could understand her.

"What kind of van service are you running where my child gets bullied on her way home?"

I could see Shareece glaring at me. I almost wished my mother had not said anything.

Turning crimson, Mr. Poland apologized, stating he couldn't see what was happening in the back but would move my seat closer to the front the next day. Thinking that was resolution enough, he made a move to close the door, only my mother stopped him. She climbed in the van, then turned to me and asked me to point out Shareece. I was mortified, but not idiotic, so I complied.

Shareece adjusted her two long cornrows in front on her shoulders. Despite her attempt to be cool, nervous was visibly taking over.

"Now you look here, Ms. Shareece." My mother had sneered the word miss, so I knew Shareece was about to get it. Good.

Shareece looked.

"The next time you take off you stinking foot and shove it eena me chile face, I'll climb into the back of this van and shove my foot right in your face.
A hot, sweaty foot that was in nursing shoes all day. Then tell me how funny it is."

My mom climbed out backwards, her eyes never leaving Shareece's face. After she slammed the door, we stood there until we could no longer see the van. Then my mom turned to me and said, “Don’t you ever be a dummy again and let someone disrespect you like that. If I find out that happens again, I’ll be out here with a belt.”

ANECDOTE TUESDAY: COUSIN MARIA & CHESTNUT, THE DOG

2011-05-25T16:41:00.001-04:00

My cousin, whom we refer to as Auntie Bailey, is the family matriarch. She has a very elderly 100+ pound dying dog named Chestnut that has been dying for the last year. Because she loves Chestnut so much, Auntie Bailey has committed her retired life to making Chestnut “comfortable” instead of traveling the world, playing Bingo, and going to Mohegan Sun like most of her friends. The issue now is that there is a family trip coming up and everyone wants her to attend. Her reply? Tentative. She doesn’t want to leave Chestnut alone, and putting him in a dog kennel in not an option. And apparently, Cousin Maria is out of the picture as well; she used to be Chestnut’s babysitter.

“Jesus! Lawd have mercy! Ooh, not ah’tall. Not me. Not this time,” Cousin Maria started.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. Her outburst seemed odd since we were talking about buying food in bulk from a local wholesaler.

“Auntie Baily middi buy food di oddah day fuh Chestnut.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to follow the exchange. Cousin Maria was a mid-conversation topic switcher.

“You know di dog soon dead. Talking about food reminded me di dog sick bad. Ah nuh wahn watch him!"

“Did Auntie Bailey ask you to watch Chestnut? I mean, if you did, you would miss the family trip,” I reminded her.

“Yuh nuh di listen? Me juss sey no. I middi clarify dat fuh yuh.”

Did she forget I didn’t inquire? I wondered. “Who are you, the Canine Reaper?”

“What? Ah who dat?”

“Never mind.”

“All ah di sey is this: Di minute Auntie Bailey travel an' me come ova, dat dog wahn dead. Just like dat. Blam, blam! Chestnut juss di wait fuh she go whey and leave him. He nuh wahn die in frontah she. So me minding ah dying dog? I wouldn’t know what to do, who fuh cyall. I might just run outta di house an’ leff him dey dead!”

ANECDOTE TUESDAY: BIRTHDAY BASHMENT

2011-05-17T23:58:00.001-04:00

My friend and Melanie and shared the same birthday. One year, she was gung-ho about a dual dinner; I wasn’t. A few days passed, and as we talked about it more, I slowly warmed up to the idea and started looking forward to a festive night with friends until she called with the worst idea ever. She had recently experienced another dating disaster and was subsequently ready to swear off men. Frustrated, she said that she didn’t want men to be a part of her life then added that our birthday evening would be better spent with only our respective nearest and dearest girlfriends.

Immediately, I was incensed, mentally hurling every epithet I could think of at her. What were we doing every other time we went to dinner, brunch, hosted holiday parties or slumber parties to console another girlfriend after a breakup? I thought. Wasn’t that enough girlfriend time? She was bugging! We had gone from a potentially pleasant dinner with the usual male and female friends to an estrogen-atrocity. As she rambled on about restaurants and more reasons to despise men, my mind wandered to the dependency some women felt on each other, whining about their lack of dates, hypothesizing on what men were doing or thinking, and simply wasting good ‘flirt-with-man’ time on conversations with each other. Charlie Brown syndrome took over as she continued and mentally, I compiled snippets of previous discussions which wound up sounding something like this:

“How long has it been since he called?”

“Over a week. Things were going well between us and he just seemed to disappear.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what’s going on. He’s seeing someone else. Probably some broad that he just met that’s willing to give up the booty just because the brother has a nice house, a good job, a few dollars, and a Range Rover. See, women like that? Uh, don’t get me started. They make things so easy…opening and closing their legs like a refrigerator! Then, when someone good comes along like me, dude is so jaded and jacked up in his thoughts he don’t even recognize a real self-respecting, saved and sanctified woman like myself. I mean, I’ll engage in a little petting on the side you know, but a man can’t just run up in me after three dates. Brotha, please. I don’t even know your middle name.”

“I know you’re trying to be helpful but this conversation is taking a different direction. I don’t want to male-bash and you’re starting to relive some stuff with your ex so…”

Interrupting and undeterred my friend would continue, not acknowledging my statements.

“Yup, that’s exactly it! Should have known! He has someone else. Probably some project biddie with a slew of kids waiting to be rescued and there he is–accepting a sub-par woman because he’s too afraid to step to an educated, intelligent, career-minded, independent, fine sister. So what does he do? Call that ghetto bunny his girlfriend because he can buy her some Similac, sneakers, and a used Subaru and she’ll do anything he wants. You know what I call those men? Suckas! Suckas, I say! What’s the name of the guy you went out with again? Oh it doesn’t matter. In the happenstance that he’s not seeing the ghetto girl, he definitely chasing one of those high faultin’ glamour girls who’s looking for a man to impregnate her so she can sit her Louis Vuitton ass at home, practically tethering him to her because she has his baby. You know what, you don’t even need a man! You should just be grateful that you have good girlfriends like me to school you.”

ANECDOTE TUESDAY: SOLID GOLD

2011-05-03T23:45:00.001-04:00

My first dance partner was my mother. I was a chunky rhythm-less child and my mother had missed her calling on Solid Gold, left to practice her fancy footwork in the living room, and oftentimes dropping to the floor in a bounce then coming up back up for a quick spin and snap her slender fingers while saying, “Whoo!” She was hot. My mother was also patient, holding my hand in an attempt to spin me around, which to her demise, only made me dizzy. I couldn’t keep up, barely able to snap my short, pudgy fingers to the beat.

****

Right before I turned ten years old, my classmates and I were scheduled to perform on-stage in the school auditorium. It was supposed to be a talent show at our parochial school, a showcase of entertainment skill for our peers, parents, teachers. Somehow at my predominately White school, the only other Black girls in the third grade—Brenda, the fat one and Alisha, the scrawny one—and I became a lip-synching dance team. Our song of choice was a throwback sung by Alvin and the Chipmunks. Brenda said she had the record, and since we all lived nearby, we practiced our two step until it was flawless. For once, the prospect of dancing didn’t terrify me.

On the day of the talent show, Brenda announced that she couldn’t find the record. I wanted to slap the Jheri curl juice dripping from her short Afro, but instead, pleaded with my mother to lend us a record from her collection, which was also the only one we sort of knew all the words to. After much trepidation, she allowed me to borrow it.

We went on stage, wearing seventies-styled pink-with-a-black poodle skirt my mother had made for us, which would have been apropos to our original song. Looking out, I saw mostly White faces starting back, waiting for us to entertain. I nodded to the DJ, our third grade teacher, who scratched to record before playing it. For fifteen seconds, only the beat of our new song blared, then Rick James started singing, “She’s a very kinky girl…the kind you don’t take home to motha!” At the end of our “Super Freak” performance, my mother was the only person who clapped, then yelled, “Encore!”

ANECDOTE TUESDAY: SWIMMING WITH SOCKS

2011-04-26T14:59:00.002-04:00

AN EXCERPT FROM A LARGER STORY...

During my senior year in high school, the graduating class went skiing and eventually after a long day of tumbling down the slopes, we headed straight for the pool. I loved my leopard print bathing suit that I knew no one else would be wearing because I had ordered it from a Brazilian catalog–one of very few that was not a thong. While I was certain to be a banging babe in it, there was the matter of my feet. I couldn’t let the entire senior class– including all the cuties–see how busted my bunion-laden feet were.

My friend-roommates all headed to the pool while I lagged behind. “Go ahead, I’ll meet you there in a minute,” I said, trying to stall and figure out how to get in the water without anyone noticing my feet. Putting on my white scrunchy socks and pair of high top Reeboks, I left the hotel room armed with a camera and a white over-sized Ralph “Polo” Lauren teddy bear towel.

Once poolside, I goofed around, taking pictures and sipped on sodas for a long while. Eventually, my friends beckoned me to jump in.

“I can’t swim,” I offered up in a meek protest.

“The pool is all of five feet. You’re almost a foot taller. Quit playing.”
“You know I can’t mess up my hair. I just got it permed and the chlorine water….shoo. I don’t even want to think of the damage that will cause,” I said, even though I was wearing a swim cap. “Water can still seep in.”

“Really? You’re going to sit sideline? That’s whack.”

Another senior jumped out of the water and threatened to push me in if I didn’t comply. Damn friends, I thought. Slowly, I dropped all my stuff and painstakingly took off my sneakers at the pool’s edge. Thankfully, I was hit with an epiphany and jumped in with a big splash– with the white scrunchy socks on.

“Why are you wearing socks in the pool?” someone asked.

Heads turned in my directions and some even chuckled.

“I don’t know what kind of germs are on the pool floor. It could be all kinds of foot fungus so I’ll just pass up on that,” I said.

“Lemme find out your feet are busted,” someone yelled.

“Take it off, take it off, take it off,” a small group chanted. And I did. Then my hair got wet once the swim cap floated away but the socks were imaginarily cemented on. In every poolside picture of my high school senior ski trip, I’m wearing wet white socks.

ANECDOTE TUESDAY: TREMAINE'S TUTOR

2011-04-19T16:15:00.003-04:00

During my freshman year in high school, I had a crush on Tremaine, a senior. We were in French II class together; I had spent several years studying the romantic language at my Catholic elementary school, and was able to jump to a higher level.

Hoping Tremaine would notice me, I went to school one day in one of my best outfits: a paisley print button down shirt with shoulder pads that I had pilfered from my mother’s closet, khaki pants, white Nike sneakers, and mismatched socks.

I sat behind Tremaine in class, and in an attempt to get his attention, I kept raising my hand to answer questions. Midway through class, he turned around and looked at me from head to toe with a smirk on his face.

“Hi,” I said, smiling shyly at him. My fingers were itching to run through is mini curly Afro. Whatever sheen he used had his hair glistening.

“There’s something that’s been on my mind since you walked in. I can’t even concentrate today…” Tremaine said.

My smile faded slightly. That was not the comment I had hoped for, yet I said, “What’s that?” Hopefully he wants me to be his tutor, I thought while holding my breath in anticipation of his ask.

“What made you decide to put on two different color socks today? That look is so played out.”

COUSIN MARIA & THE MARRIAGE BED

2011-04-12T16:10:00.000-04:00

This story is an excerpt from a larger work, but decided to post for Anecdote Tuesday since Cousin Maria made an appearance. :-)

Thanksgiving dinner was usually at my mother’s house and one year I found myself practically falling asleep post-dinner, succumbing to the itis. I walked into my bedroom; my absence was unnoticed by my family since they were engrossed in round two of turkey dinners, pecan pie, and pina coladas. Two minutes later I emerged wearing a sweat suit. Immediately, my cousin Leah started laughing hysterically and asked, pointing to my ensemble, “What is that you’re wearing?”

“What? My sweat suit?” I asked, surprised.

“You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe you’re going to the gym on Thanksgiving.” Before I could respond, Cousin Leah continued, “If anyone should be going, it’s me. Relax yourself because those fitness instructors are out eating turkey too.”

While she had a point regarding the gym, Leah was also five feet two inches and two hundred pounds. Since she had misconstrued my sweat suit intention, I made an attempt to clarify the situation, saying, “Hello! I’m not working out. I’m getting ready for bed.”

Raucous laughter from my other cousins ensued, encouraging Cousin Leah to continue. “In that? You’ll sweat to death!” she said in between gasps for air.

“Excuse you. I happen to get cold at night,” I explained. “And since it’s almost 10 PM—my usual bedtime—my body is ready to feel the warmth of the sweat suit.”

“You don’t have a comforter?” Cousin Leah asked.

“I’m anemic,” I defended. “My doctor said so.”

“If you’re still cold wearing that sauna suit, I’d say you’re sick. It’s a wonder you didn’t melt away yet.”

Soon after, my mother joined the impromptu roast on my behalf adding, “She sleeps in that outfit every night—with the hood on her head. I keep telling her that when she gets married, she can’t sleep like that. She’ll have to wear a little teddy.”

“Or nothing!” Cousin Marie squealed, simultaneously getting up to high-five my mother and other cousins. “Me nevah wear nothing ahtall ahtall to bed wid me husband and we me have plenty fun, gyal!” she added.

“First of all, this is an inappropriate conversation, especially on a holiday like this. My virgin ears are bleeding,” I said.

“Gyal, bedroom talk is nevah inappropriate. We di try give yuh some tips to tantalize di mahn, but yuh di talk foolishness ‘bout virgin,” Cousin Maria said. “I mean fuh sey, how old dey now? Yuh nevah been wid ah mahn yet?”

I was mortified.

Chiming in, Cousin Leah added, “We are all family giving you advice. Good advice. I’m listening too,” she said winking.

“Second,” I continued, ignoring them, “No one uses the word ‘teddy’ anymore Mommy. That’s so old school.”

“You knew what it meant, didn’t you?” my mother countered laughing.

Undeterred, I said, “I have no intentions of going to bed naked when I’m married. While you all are running around in silky negligees—and let me tell you silk doesn’t breathe as well as cotton—or just naked, my husband will have to find me within the folds of the sweat suit.” I laughed at my own wit, proud to defend the sweat suit and happy that I’d cleverly come up with the latter part to support my statements.

“Find you? No man has time to find you when he wants nookie at night. Keep that up and you’ll get divorced quickly!” my mother said.

ANECDOTE TUESDAY--COUSIN MARIA PACKS A PANTY

2011-04-05T17:51:00.001-04:00

By now, I'm certain you believe I only see Cousin Maria at backyard cookouts, but, there was this one time my family drove to a beach in Long Island…

****

Even though it was midday on a sweltering Saturday, things were going well. My family had secured three picnic tables covered with food and drinks, and any grub that wasn’t on the table was still sizzling on the grill, which Cousin Maria manned. The peas and rice and was in the cooler to prevent it from spoiling. Someone had brought a super size radio that needed eight D-batteries so we could all jam out. It was turning out to be a good day—until it was time to go swimming.

****

"Psst," Cousin Leah said, beckoning me over. "You see anything on my pants?"

"No. Why?" I said.

"My friend came unexpectedly and I don't have anything," she said, stressing friend and anything to let me know it was that time of the month. She had asked the other women in our family for sanitary supplies, but no one had any with them. Except Cousin Maria.

Since Cousin Maria apparently had bionic hearing while manning the grill, she overheard the exchange between Cousin Leah and I.

"Whey wrong wid yuh?!" Cousin Maria shouted, bringing unnecessary attention to herself. She was completely sober. "Yuh neveah even ask mi! Oonu treat me like strangah!"

Embarrassed and exasperated, Cousin Maria and made the request.

"Hmphf, I shouldn't give yuh anyting ahtall ahtall, but wait," Cousin Maria said. She had left her grill station, with Cousin Leah and myself in tow, to rifle through her bag.

Looking quizzically at the bundled up beige polyester cloth Cousin Maria proffered, Cousin Leah said, "What do you want me to do with this?"

"Yuh crazy or what? It's ah pad and ah panty. Me walk wid dem eena mi pocketbook every single day! You nevah know when somebodie wahn have ah accident."

NOTE TO MEN: Most women do not carry drawers and sanitary supplies daily.

ANECDOTE TUESDAY- COUSIN MARIA'S STRIPE SHIRT

2011-03-29T23:47:00.003-04:00

At every family event, I arrived with my big-mini paparazzi camera, which most of my kin detested until Cousin Maria announced that she was traveling to Belize for the holidays. Our other cousins there wanted to see current pictures of “di fahmly eena di States,” because it had been over a decade since we last saw each other. Putting their annoyance aside, my stateside family smiled slightly, and for once, I was capturing more than palms.

****
”Whey yuh di snap dey evalastin’?” Cousin Maria asked, pushing back errant strands of her salt and pepper wavy hair that escaped from her taut ponytail. Without waiting for my response, Cousin Maria said, “Mekka see.”

I handed her my camera and showed her how to scroll through the current images as well as the ones I had forgotten to delete from our holiday and backyard gatherings. The more family fetes Cousin Maria saw, the more her smile faded away. After looking at four events, she had turned completely sullen.

"What's wrong?" I asked, concerned.

"Dis," she started, pointing to herself and leaving her fingerprint on my camera's screen. "In every picture me di wear the same shirt."

I looked. She was right—and she was wearing the same black and white stripe shirt that day.

"It's alright, we're family," I said, trying to comfort her.

"No! Everybodie have on ah nice pretty frock or press-up dungarees and me one have on ole clothes. Even mi shoes dem look mashup eena di pictcha and now dey have a hole," she said showing me.

I looked. Two of her toes peeked out.

As Cousin Maria’s brows furrowed and her big brown eyes started to water, she picked up her bag to leave and announced, "Me wahn juss stop come out." And at that, she was gone.

ANECDOTE TUESDAY - REEFAH

2011-03-22T10:11:00.000-04:00

With much groveling, I had convinced my parents to allow me to attend a public high school instead of the all girl-girl Catholic school I had been accepted to on an academic scholarship.

At my mother's insistence, I had signed up for keyboarding class, electing to sit next to a girl who warmly smiled and waved me over. As soon as I sat down and squeezed my new five-subject spiral notebook and pens into the tight space between our archaic typewriters, the girl scooted her chair closer to me, then tossed her knapsack on her thighs.

"Yo girl," she said, startling me.

She doesn't seem so friendly anymore, I thought.

"Hi," I mumbled feebly.

"Look over here," she said pointing to her lap.

I looked at what seemed to be dirt in a plastic bag. "What is that?” I whispered.

"Weed."

"What?

"Weed."

"Dirt?" I asked in response. At fourteen, I had never heard that word nor seen weed.

"No," she hissed. "Weed. To smoke." She rolled her eyes, taxed that she had to even explain what it was.

I looked again and a light bulb went off in my head. "Reefah? I said, my Belizean accent automatically changing the "er" to "ah." I had only heard my mother mention reefah when referring to wayward, often ostracized family members.

"What?" The girl snapped.

"Reefah. That's what that is, nuh? Drugs?"

"No one says reefer anymore, and it's not really drugs. Just a little something to mellow you out," she explained, once again smiling.

I was rooted to my chair in fear of being labeled a drug-user, or worse, expelled. My public school experience was turning out to be nightmare. Maybe I should go back to Catholic school where it is safe, I mused in my naiveté.

"Here, try it," the girl said, offering me a smaller baggie. "I'll give you a free sample and tomorrow you can buy some from me."

"Um, well, my parents wouldn't want me to have it in the house so..."

"Smoke it in your bathroom when they're not home and spray some air freshener. You do know how to smoke, right?"

I avoided her question, instead saying, "Well, I...I won't have any money tomorrow. I think I'll pass, but thank you for offering," I said cordially.

She looked at me with disgust and started pitching the other student to the left of her. In an attempt to be helpful, I interrupted the girl’s presentation and showed her a sign that read, Say No to Drugs.

She glared at me then scooted her chair further away.

DATING ADVICE FROM COUSIN MARIA

2011-03-15T09:16:00.000-04:00

At 28, I was still unmarried, which was akin to cardinal sin in my Belizean family.

During another family cookout, my mother decided it was apropos to roast me in front of everyone, loudly proclaiming and complaining that, "After giving birth to five pickney, all me have is one grandchile."

Like grandchildren are items someone can pick up in the grocery store, I thought.

Glancing at me, she shook her head and walked away dismayed. I was her eldest child and by her standards, should have been wedded, bedded, and made a couple babies by now.

Feeling sorry for me, my cousin, Maria, sidled up next to me, gently taking one of my hands into her two clammy ones.

"Gyal," she began in her heavy Belizean dialect. "Whey di tek suh long?" she asked of my seemingly perennial singledom.

"I don know...I want to meet the person I’m supposed to be with and love forever. There's this one guy I kinda like, but..."

Cousin Maria interrupted me, sucking her teeth. "Love? Yuh di fool 'rung, gyal! Yuh mussee di wait fuh di perfeck mahn, but mekka tell yuh something: He nuh exist! Dat is di problem wid oonu young people today; oonu want nice nice all di time."

"Maria, you’re missing the point. I'm not asking for perfection, just someone who is compatible with me emotionally, mentally, spiritually, socially..."

She interjected. "Gyal! Dat is too much! Di mahn yuh like--he fat? He black? He bruk?"

"Well, he's kinda dark and thick..."

"Lookyah, none of it matters," Cousin Maria said, caressing my hand in comfort. The clamminess was irking me.
"When yuh get eena di bed and di lights off, he can be any mahn yuh want him fuh be. 'Membah dat," she said winking, then walked off.

JOKE & ANECDOTE

2011-03-08T09:14:00.000-05:00

JOKE

Two kids are playing in a pool—a toddler girl and boy. The little girl looks between the boy's legs then asks, "Can I touch that?"

The little boy replies, "No, you already pulled yours off."

ANECDOTE

My cousin, Maria, who was born in Belize, but has spent half of her forty-three years of life living in the United States, only recently heard of the letter 'z'. Until 1981, Belize was called British Honduras and accordingly, people—including Maria—learned to spelled words the European way like color instead of colour and theatre instead of theater.

During a family backyard cookout last July, my precocious nine-year old niece,Kate, started spelling all the words she knew that started with the last letter of the alphabet. Hearing her, Maria turned to my sister, Kate’s mother, and asked in her distinctive Belizean dialect, “Ah whey she di sey dey?”

"What?" my sister queried, clearly confused.

"What was di fuss lettah di chile mi sey juss now when she middi spell zebra?" Maria replied, pointing at my niece.

"Z," my sister said.

"Z? Ah whey dat? I nevah hear ’bout dat before.”

Raucous laughter erupted from my mother, siblings, and cousins who had all paused with their pina coladas in hand to listen to the exchange. When everyone settled down, my sister turned to Maria again and said, "After being in this country over two decades, how is it you have never heard of the letter 'z'?"

"Me don't know. Me always said zed. Like zoo woulda be zed-o-o."

***
Got a joke or funny anecdote? Holler! BTW, today's joke was the courtesy of Tiger. :-)

Later Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

HELLO 2011

2011-01-04T22:31:00.004-05:00

Hello there! Happy New Year four days in, Lovelies!

I know…so long. Sooo long, but I’m back now.

2010 was an amazing year. Sure, I had a modicum of setbacks, but overall, my 365 days felt like one big happy adventure filled with family, friends, several passport stamps, fun-filled follies, and lots of self-awareness. Before the year ended, I thought about the people that brought me the most happiness and pleasure as well as those that provided serious stress, grief, and heartache. I mentally thanked every single one of them for the life lesson s/he provided.

I’ve already had my share of prima donnas and princes on poor behavior a few days into 2011, but no more! This is another great year in the making and allowing triangles in the player’s circle causes chaos. Folks, clear you life from bedlam in the form of people and things. Go for realistic goals and surround yourself with people that have something intellectually, spiritually, socially, financially, and/or emotionally to offer. To get started, here are a few tips to a happy, healthy, prosperous, and cheerful new year:

1. Set realistic goals – Folks always want to lose weight. If you gained thirty pounds in the course one year, you’re probably not going to lose it all in one month. And if you didn’t have a baby, how did you gain all that weight anyway? Don’t tell me love! “Oh, girl, I loves my man and cooks for him all the time. That’s how I got fat.” No, you got fat because you went to the Chinese spot and ordered four chicken wings with pork fried rice and lo mein three times per week. Two other days you went to Crown Fried Chicken to buy buffalo chicken wings; one night you cooked a pasta dish and ate a pint of ice cream as dessert; to end the week, you went to Ak to get the “good hero” with all the works. That’s how you got fat. Instead of trying to lose thirty pounds, try losing five per month. Once you cut down on Kum Kau, you’ll drop a few pounds and save a few dollars in the process.

2. Be a better entrepreneur – Your business is successful when you can show a real profit, not one floating in your head. Make better decisions regarding your business. Whether it’s a side hustle or full time gig, make sure you’re paid—on time. Pro bono is great if you agree to it upfront, but there is no reason why one year later (and then some) you should be waiting for your client to pay you. Whether your client is new business relationship, friend, or family member, ask for 50% of your fees up front. If the person doesn’t agree, move on. The next person will.

3. Do something crazy – Yup, I said it. Whatever it is you want to do may seem crazy, but it probably isn’t. Pole dancing? Not crazy at all. Actually, it’s a lot of frickin’ work and I popped an almost new brand pair of stilettos trying to swing on the pole. But, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try it. You should. I had a blast and even have pictures to show. Other not so crazy things: Go on vacation solo. Write a love letter. Send an apology letter to a friend you know you hurt. Run a half marathon. Give away last season’s Manolo’s, Choo’s, or Todd’s. I’m a size 10 folks!

4. Share – Give your time, energy, and knowledge via volunteering or helping a family/friend build their strategic plan.

5. Help Betsy – Post comments. All the time. Even if it’s a one-liner and forward the link to your friends. I’m doing big things this year and it would help me immensely to know that folks are out there reading and liking the blog. And if you don’t, that’ okay too; just post a comment telling me why. I’m a reasonable human being and amenable to your suggestions. Grrr. Tiger, that growl was for you :-)

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice
(Yes, I dropped the “Baller” this year)

WAS IT A DATE?

2010-09-29T08:59:00.002-04:00

When you’re out (or in) with someone new, how do you know it’s a date? Does the other person feel the same?

I had dinner with a fellow some time ago and the conversation eventually turned to dating. Ol’ boy said he would “go out” with women thinking they were just “hanging out” but the woman thought it was a date. Instead of letting the thoughts hang in the air, I asked him what he thought of our “hanging out.” He stammered around a bit, so I interrupted, clarifying that he was a cool dude, but it wasn’t a date for me. He said he felt the same way but didn’t want to hurt my feelings in the event I believed otherwise. Isn’t communication great?

Now, on another instance, there was some miscommunication. A brother and I made dinner plans for 8 pm. He was supposed to meet me in my neighborhood, and I assumed we would go to dine. But, since my cooking skills are sharp (I’ll take anyone on in the kitchen—just holler!), I decided to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. Excitedly, I stood at my counter dicing onions and mincing garlic and peppering my sauce with spices. With one hour left before his arrival, I was getting ready to whip up a cake or dessert bread. Not only did I want to see him, I was really remiss in cooking so was greatly looked forward to a home-cooked meal. I figured I would have heard from him n hour or so before our 8 p.m. date to confirm my address. Nada. I knew at that point he wasn’t coming but I continued to cook. 8 p.m. Blinking indicator light, but no messages from the brother. Finally, at 9 pm, I send a message that simply read, “?” I didn’t want to talk to him because I KNEW he would have an excuse. Ten seconds later he replied with something along the lines of getting back in the city late (I knew he was scheduled to return to town early that day) and wanting a rain check. I didn’t reply.

I ate dinner alone, disliking the feeling, but surely enjoying the food. I had cooked enough for five servings—leftovers or me and for him to carry to home/work.

A week later, I called, saying that he just wanted to catch up with me and see how things were going. Instantly, I was infuriated. What I wanted was a date a week prior, but thought back to the conversation with ol’ about what constitutes a date and how do you know you’re on one, especially during the beginning stages. Mr. Stood Me Up knew that I was interested in him; we flirted all the time and I said as much. So meeting for dinner shouldn’t have been a question of, “Is this a date?” right? Right?

Two days lapsed and I didn't return his call. In part, I didn’t want to talk to him. I felt like he wasn’t going to even contact me if I didn’t send a message first and that’s just whack. On the flip side for fairness, I wonder if he thought it was a “hang out” session and thought it wasn’t a big deal because we’re “cool people.”

Did I get stood up? Someone holler with sage advice.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

MY ANNOYING/DEPLORABLE LIST

2010-09-20T13:11:00.002-04:00

Folks, I have a lot on my mind and much to share. First, I wanted to talk about how great my Friday/Saturday was and opposingly, how my Sunday sucked, but I’m distracting by the need to share something else: a dozen things I find annoying or downright deplorable.

So without further adieu, my list.

15. holding in farts
14. people with a cart full of groceries at the 10 items or less express line
13. computer error messages
12. pumping gas
11. braggarts and/or constantly confused people
10. needing to go to work every week day (that 99 weeks of unemployment doesn’t sound that bad right now)
9. knowing that I have a ton of work to do but avoiding it (aka procrastination)
8. not getting a seat on the train
7. shredding papers
6. my mobile phone and/or iPod battery out-charging when I need it most
5. the slimy look and taste of okra
4. people touching my clean clothes with their dirty hands at the Laundromat (who cares if I didn’t take the clothes out the dryer ten seconds after they were done!?!?!?)
3. very laborious housework (i.e. cleaning the toilet tank, painting)
2. my dry cleaning expenses
1. taking a poop at work (besides the fact that almost twenty women at my workplace have to share one bathroom key and the toilet paper feels like burlap on my bottom, it’s just gross. I don’t even have any reading material like I do in my own house so it really is a trip of waste, but at least I had time to think of this blog post!)

What’s on your list? Share here.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

TWENTY SIX CANDLES

2010-09-16T17:44:00.002-04:00

For all the folks that asked where I’d been, I’m back and know that I miss you too. Shoo, I even miss sharing my thoughts and life with you all.

Summer was insane, but in a great way. Those 100 dates? Didn’t happen. Conceptually, another marvelous idea but trying to get folks to honestly talk about their dates, much less even go out on a much needed date, was too much work so I focused on my own adventures. For the record though, an update on the two sets of folks that went out at the start of summer (or at least the way I consider it, Memorial Day weekend.). One person turned their dating spell into a jaunty jump-off situation; the other, didn’t even last three dates. Different beliefs, particular religious (one person was practically an atheist, the other, a devout Christian) ones, makes it difficult to get things poppin’.

I had a great summer and met amazing people. I fell in love with New York again. Museums, concerts, conservatories, Coney Island, dining, rooftop soirees, backyard bashments, and overall one of my most memorable summers in a long time. Of course, there were some dates here and there but no one that made it to the number one position. However, there was this one fellow I met a while back and we “hung out” a few times during the sun-kissed season. Can I just say ol’ boy is hot? He’s arrogant, but intelligent. A jerk, but has moments of tenderness. He’s witty, strong, and has an amazing southern drawl that is like maple syrup pouring over my body instead of Kool-Aid (reference Don’t Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood). LOL.

Thing is, ol’ boy is twenty-six. And it’s not just him. There’s another fellow I met that said, “I’ll be twenty-seven next month.” I see you trying to get your older man on, but I tend to like men a little older than barely past a quarter of a century. But, it has me thinking that maybe I need to give the young’uns a chance…Like Biggie said, “Young, fresh, and clean with no hair in between/Know what I mean?”

Share your summer adventures...

Lata Lovelies,
Besty “Baller” Ice

100 DATES OF SUMMER - recap of date #1 and 2

2010-06-02T18:50:00.004-04:00

Welcome Betsy Ice Readers!

Betsy is on a new, fun jaunt this summer. Yup, dating. Remember that antiquated thing that happened between two people mutually attracted to each other? These days some folks try to downplay the process of dating—courtship, communication (sans text messages and BBM), and chemistry—to “hanging out”, like it’s some around the way activity with the homies.

Enough of that I say! It's time for new experiences!

Betsy has a goal this summer: 100 Dates. Memorial Day to Labor Day. Since that time frame is only ninety-eight days, there would have to be some doubling up at least, right? Nope. Initially, I thought to do this project solo—meeting one fellow for an early breakfast before work, lunch with another, then dessert after work—but reminded myself take it easy. That many dates in such a short space of time would lead to much quantity, not quality, and while this really is a social experiment, I have to be mindful and respective of other people’s feelings. This adventure will be nothing short of interesting and gives me the perfect time to start working on my winter boo.

To help me achieve the 100 Dates, some folks signed up to share their dating adventures—and share they did! Some dates will be one-sided—meaning, the information comes from one source; other times I’ll be fortunate enough to have both sides of the story. So folks, every Monday and Thursday will be a new post on dating, counting up to the hundredth date, right up to Monday September 6th--Labor Day. Today is an exception since I was planning to launch yesterday…still working on meeting my own deadlines. :-)

So folks, without further adieu, Date #1 and 2.

Date #1: Daniel went out with Carmen (her take on him/date coming up tomorrow). Daniel is described as intellectual, loving, built like a football player, wants to get married—ASAP!

The Goods:
“Hey Betsy, your girl Carmen just canceled on me,” Daniel said.
“What?” I asked incredulously. Why would she do that, especially for a first date? I thought.
“I don’t know, but it’s cool. We’ll try for another time,” he said.
I was not buying that bunch of bull for a minute. He was excited to meet her. He ended a relationship earlier this year and was starting to feel the loneliness of singledom—and openly disliked it.

Initially Daniel tried to dismiss her canceling as nothing, but judging from the terseness of his words and tense body language, he was upset. I felt bad for him. Who bails on a first date? Ol’ girl Carmen.

After some prodding, Daniel revealed that he was upset. He had gone to work dressed “better than normal” and was excited to meet her.
“Look, she had a good reason (work), but it still doesn’t change the fact that she canceled. At this point, I’m not expecting much from her. I’ll go out with Carmen, because I said I would but she has no brownie points in my book.”

A few days later, Daniel and Carmen connected. He sent me a message that read, I'm feeling your girl! She just called to see if I wanted to do lunch today (I had already eaten) and now she and her girl may do a double date with me and my boy from MA on Saturday. Fierce!

According to Daniel, this was a big redeem. She called him on the fly and he appreciated her apologetic efforts.

On their first date, Daniel described Carmen as hot, beautiful, smart, warm, gorgeous smile, and easy-going as they talked about interests over dinner. He also liked that she traveled to his neighborhood to meet him saying that “no one ever wants to come out here but that changed with Carmen.” By the end of date one, they were planning date two. Rock-climbing.

Betsy's take: Ladies, canceling a first date is not an option. If a brother cancels from the onset, that’s his lost. Act right or exit stage left. Next! Ditto for women. Get it together. BTW, I did concur with Daniel on the good redeem.

Date #2: Savannah James, went on a date with Ade. Savannah James is described as a dreamer, alluring, craves attention, determined, major b-ball fan.

The Goods:
Oooh, Savannah James is a handful. Really. She met Ade at party. They joked around a bit and as the conversation progressed, he said he was Nigerian.
“You’re Nigerian? You don’t look Nigerian,” she continued, later explaining that Ade was “far away” from what she thought and saw. Her experience with Nigerian men led her to believe that they were “button-downed metro sexuals.”

Thank goodness ol’ boy wasn’t offended and they exchanged BBM information. “I know you’re going to call me,” Savannah James added before departing. Though they had spent some time during the party chatting, she had already chalked Ade up to homeboy status. “He was someone to kick it with,” SJ said.

When he did call, they had several commonalities that met her approval. Actually, Savannah James’ approval list had approximately sixty-seven man-must haves. Ade was unmarried and without kids. Check, check. Thirty-eight years old. Just ripe check. Athletic (he played college football). BIG check. And was in a fraternity. Ooh, Savannah James! Check, please! Tats. Check. Though he didn't make sixty-seven yet, ol' boy had checks all over him...hmmm...

Their first date was at sports bar, specifically to watch the Miami vs. Boston game. Boston won. In person again, she thought Ade was really sweet. She felt like he was more a homeboy, especially since they were part of the rowdy group watching the game, but there was a tender side to him she appreciated. During the date, Savannah James confessed to feeling extremely comfortable with Ade which why she fed him French fries on their first date; in return, he sucked the ketchup off her fingers.

It's b-ball finals time so Betsy readers, stay tuned to see what these fry-feeding, finger-sucking, pair do on their next date.

Betsy’s take: Brothers, don’t you dare ask me to suck ketchup off your hands unless you JUST washed them. Hmphf. About the date…don’t knock the Naija men…or get caught up in your own stereotypes.

Date #3 and 4 served tomorrow with Carmen’s side of the date with Daniel and Betsy’s date with Museum Guy.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

WHY DO YOU DATE

2010-05-20T07:13:00.002-04:00

So folks, Betsy is trying something relatively new—dating. I’ve been a terrible dater, making me habitually single. There wasn’t even a reason (i.e. not meeting men, being asked out); I just didn’t date. Lovelies, that’s about to change.

I’m working on a new project centered on relationships/dating and as part of the research, I’ll be going on bonafide dates. And, some folks have already cosigned this social experiment so holler if you’re down to participate.

My story: I met a fellow recently and went out with him for three reasons: he had an accent (a plus in my book), I had free time, and he had a luxury vehicle. The latter is shallow, oh-so-shallow, but I wanted so ride around in a ride instead of antiquated mass transit, especially late at night when there is always construction. I wasn’t trying to husband-up the dude; just have a good time. And folks, don’t front like you’ve never gone out with someone just because they had a _____ (fill in your answer here).

Anyway, when we met, he was amicable. Ditto for phone conversations, though they were more on the pleasantly parched side. Still, I went out with him giving him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps, he’s not a phone person, I thought, trying to justify the doldrums attached to speaking with him. I should have known something was up when he couldn’t even make a decision as to where he wanted to meet. He said, “Downtown.” Where the heck is that? I’m not a hooker or a police officer on patrol. After much teeth pulling, he came up with a specific location. We linked and were off. Ol’ boy made a restaurant suggestion, presenting it with such flourish that it was almost impossible to decline—but you know I did—so I offered up another suggestion and went somewhere I knew I could at least get a good meal.

Besides the fact that he rolled up shades when we met at 9 p.m., which I thought was to impress me, ol’ boy kept them on throughout dinner as well. Perhaps I missed the night-sun memo. But wait, the date became better when he invited his homeboy to join us. LOL. And he accepted the offer so you know what happens? I start thinking I would rather be on the date with him (not that I was bowled over by him but at least he was without shades in the dark and seemed more relaxed). As I dined with ol’ boy, my thoughts alternated between writing this blog and going back to the restroom to text this other fellow ☺ I felt like good girl gone bad.

Eventually the date ended when I had ol’ boy drop me off at a friend’s birthday soiree. He totally wanted to join me, but since I didn’t know what to expect of the party and didn’t want to spend any more time with him, a great big hug ended the evening. Now it’s time to delete his contact info.

Got a story to share? Holler.

Lata Lovelies
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

SHOVELING FRIENDS

2010-05-13T15:30:00.003-04:00

People at work are hysterical. Even as a professional working adult, I have to choose sides like this is The Amazing Race. Perhaps it is and work really is a jungle.

The story: There’s a fellow that I’m cool with. We have lunch occasionally. I’ve always gotten the I-want-to-be-more-than-colleagues vibe from him, but downplayed, or rather, outright ignored it, naively thinking that things would be cool and he would get the hint. And it was working—until he saw me out with a few other colleagues. His ire was barely contained and though he pulled me to the side for some choice words (mostly related to the group I was with), I could feel the tension and disappointment emanating from his body.
He talked. I listened, and sometimes I even concurred. I told him that we were cool, assuring him that it was the first time I was with these folks socially and me hanging out with them had nothing to do with him. Different people, different events, different everything.

I thought everything was alright…until he laid the I’m-feeling-you-like-a-girlfriend line on me. I wondered, Girlfriend? This brother doesn’t even know me like that. Without mincing words, I let him know that I only saw him as a colleague, someone that I am amicable with. I didn’t even use the word friend. Through his tipsy haze, he understood and asked that I call him when I got home to let him know I was in safely. I agreed.

I sent a text to him a few hours later letting him know all was well and I was home safely. Now, it was around 2 a.m. and ol’ boy must have had my number on speed dial because no less than three minutes later, he called. I let it go to voicemail. What on earth did he want to talk about at that hour.

When the sun was up—way up—I responded saying I would call him at some point over the weekend. I did, the following day and left a message when his voicemail kicked. Guess the conversation wasn’t so urgent after all. When I got to work, I sent him a text letting him know I was stepping out for a bit. No response. Now I get it. He’s mad and ignoring me. This I know to be true because every other time I’ve reached out, he’s hollered back ASAP.

I wasn’t accepting BFF applications anyway, but find it strange how people carry on in the workplace. I mean, can’t I be Switzerland? Anyone else ever found themselves caught between folks? Holler!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

CAN YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITHSTAND A BREAK?

2010-04-14T14:33:00.003-04:00

Every so often a friend, who is more like a sister, and I take a hiatus from each other. It’s not that we schedule a time out; we just go our separate ways—managing our respective lives and taking a breather. Then one day, we’re back, like we never missed a beat that lasted several months.
As I thought about it, I doubt most people can do that with their friends—not that one should aspire to take a pause. We connected the other day after not seeing each other for two months and we chatted and laughed and rolled our eyes at the foolishness of the men we, respectively gave/give our hearts to, and planned to connect again soon. Like this week. Okay fine, that in-person thing will become a phone call but you understand that we’re back in-communicato.

What I came to realize is that our bond of friendship is so strong that a few weeks, or even months out of the year matters not. We can catch up on life’s events in the space of one good long conversation, which may be a few hours but no important detail is left in the wind. So I wonder, how many friends can actually claim that level of strength and security? Are there people you communicate with repeatedly throughout the hour, day, week? If any one of them decided to hit the pause button, would you be upset? Could your friendship withstand the break?

Which leads me to this: if you hit the “me time” button with a friend, can you press it in a relationship? Suppose your significant other isn’t cool with it; do you break up with the person or do you hang in there frustrated.

Lata Lovelies,
Betsy “Baller” Ice

DO YOU REALLY WANT WHAT YOU SAY?

2010-04-12T12:42:00.002-04:00

For some time now, I resolved within myself that I want to get married. Yup, Betsy is ready to be someone’s wife and mother and the only thing standing in my way is finding a like-minded brother. Apparently, I have a case of picking-the-wrong brother syndrome.

Recently, I had a conversation with a ‘friend’ who I’ve been romantically interested in for a bit and what I finally accepted is that though he wants to get married and have children and even conceded to “it’s past time that I settle down”—he’s over thirty-five years old—he just hasn’t and isn’t in a position to do so because he’s still figuring out what works for him. He’s selfish—not in a bad way—but he needs to get himself together as a man. To enter into a relationship now would mean he is knowingly dragging a woman into a situation destined to fail, while he exhibits jerk- and sabotage-like qualities…all to silently say it’s not the right time. I respect his stance on “doing me,” right now.

The story: I went on a date with someone the same age as my friend. Date one, dude is like tell so-and-so you’re with your future husband as I wrapped up a phone call. I laughed it off…and tried to laugh it off every other time he said it. I get it. He wants to get married. So do I. Isn’t that the ideal? I asked myself. Meet someone, who, right out the gate is ready to answer Beyonce’s ring call?

Post date I started to wonder why I didn’t like him more. He’s clearly a great guy, one that I would befriend. Yes, brothers, befriend. I realized a long time ago I need fireworks and passion when I meet someone. That slow burn stuff…well, it just isn’t me. More than that, I started to wonder what was the difference between these two eligible bachelors that claimed marriage? What I came to believe was this: the first guy, let’s call him Mr. Flirty Friend, wants to get married but is not prepared or ready to say, “I do.” The second man, “Mr. I Got Your Ring,” is mature and is akin to the Doe Fund tag line—ready, willing, and able. Then I had to ask myself—I want to get married, but am I ready? I think I am, but can I solely blame lack of chemistry for my reason for gravitating to Mr. Flirty? Truthfully, Mr. I Got Your Ring exhibited qualities that would definitely make him a dutiful husband.

I thought more about my own readiness question and decided that chemistry is a big part of any romance for me and that will lead to the one thing that makes a relationship work—feeling like the person I’m with is my partner on every level.

Neither of those men are right for me, so Betsy’s still single in the city! Single men, send me a picture or something! Lol.

Lata Lovelies,
Betsy “Baller” Ice

WHAT CAN'T YOU LIVE WITHOUT?

2010-04-09T14:46:00.003-04:00

Lovelies! It’s chilly in NY but thank goodness I slept my morning away. If I can just get to my office before 4 p.m. I can claim that I was working.

Anyhoo, assuming you had all the essentials in life—food, family, friends, finances, shelter—what three things could you not live without?

At first, I thought to say my computer. What else can you use to talk, read, write, listen to music, make movies, and store 11,452 pictures that never get printed? The more I thought about it, the more inaccurate that was. I would hate to live without Alicia Meyers, Fela, Dwele, and Biggie but I could forego their much played music for a notebook. Paper. Paper would be one of my choices. Choice number two would be a natural—pens. Who cares about HBO, Showtime, and Bravo (except for Real Housewives of Atlanta) when my own life is more interesting? When I'm old and grey, I want to life or frown about some of the antics of my youth.

Then came number three. I was more considerate with the third choice, thinking this would have to be more important that than the others, since I already have my imaginary Bally bag and Jimmy Choo shoes. This would have to be something that could complete my life. Then I remembered the one thing that has been with my all my life in varying forms—my bible. Whether it's the little green New Testament--remember, folks used to hand them out for free back in the day?--it's been a part of my life and heart since I was tot.

Since I was oh-so-fatigued and couldn’t make it to my office today, I had to cook my own breakfast which led to random thought number two—what condiment could you not live without? This was easier than the aforementioned question. Butter. I generally dislike salt, except, well… Anyway, as I slathered every corner of my bran bread with butter, I thought, “This is the best damn condiment ever.”

Running off to work. Share your can’t live without three or number one condiment. Curious to know what rolls through your mind.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy "Baller" Ice

SHADY BONE

2010-03-12T11:35:00.007-05:00

I’ve been a little under the weather lately, feeling more discombobulated than physically ill. I’m tapped out, my glass is full, and what little energy/concentration I have left, is just for me.

The story: A male friend and I were working on a project and there was one aspect of it he was supposed to take care of, though only recently, I found out it no progress had been made. He called me four times in three hours in a damn-near panic to “explore options.” Fine. I gave some input and said, “I really have some things I need to take care of for myself and I trust your judgment. Call or better yet, send a message with the final outcome.” That was Tuesday.

Wednesday. He leaves a high-pitched, anxious-sounding voicemail. I return his call, only to listen to him rehash the previous day’s conversation. I say, “Man, I really have some things going on in my own life right now and I just can’t attend to this with you. I know you’re trying to be helpful by filling me in but I’m full—of my own stuff—so make a decision, still to it, and know that I’ll cosign it.” Whew, I breathe a sigh of relief thinking that would be the last of it.

Thursday. The brother leaves another voicemail, this time sounding even more urgent that than the last and speaking so rapidly, that a few words are unclear. I call him back. Why did I do that? He starts off on a near-tirade about his issues. Apparently he’s losing his jobs—in a few months. A FEW #%$@?! MONTHS. I’m going through some things RIGHT NOW. I interject saying, “Look, I don’t mean to be snide or snarky. I sorry that you’re losing your job months from now but I can’t deal with anything else. I don’t have the capacity and you know that. Just finish the project and only call me when you have a final answer. Better yet, text me because I would rather not even talk. I need to be silent and still.” We hang up in agreement.

Thursday night. Ol’ boy sends an email—to me and everyone else involved—saying that he’s pulling out and “doesn’t give a shi*t,” will do his own thing, bleh bleh bleh. He then adds, “Now I know people are frustrated due to happenings in their own life however after imparting the news of my impending layoff the last thing I expect to hear from a friend is ‘I know you lost your job but...’” LMAO. Granted, he has now totally screwed me over but ol’ boy is HOT about me not wanting to—what? Be stressed out with him over his job that he’s losing in… June, July, December? Right now, I don’t need my cup to runneth over with OPP—Other People’s Problms. I mean, if he lost his job that day, I would be concerned and come up with an action plan but months away? Pshh…

I didn’t even respond to him but thought, never once did he ask me what was going on in my life, yet he has the gall to be upset with me. Insert rolling eyes here. People – if someone tells you they’re in a rough patch, do yourself a favor and find someone that can truly listen and give you the coddling you want.

Anyone else ever been in similar situation?

Totally random but ol’ boy from the coffee shop, called. Five days later. Pshh…

Thanks to all for the shout-outs and requests to keep writing. You folks highlight doldrum days. Have a lovely weekend!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy "Baller" Ice

I'LL HOLLER. ONE.

2010-02-26T15:45:00.003-05:00

Lovelies! Lovelies! I’ve been in the lab working on a legal concoction that will make me rich and famous, but paused today to watch the snowflakes fall. Okay, that’s not quite the truth. My office closed due to the snowstorm and I was too happy, officially rolling out of bed a bit after noon. It felt so good but what would have been better was…

My friend and I were at a coffee shop recently and a brother with all his textbooks, colored index cards, coffee cups, and markers caught mine eyes. He looked up and smiled and I returned the greeting. I thought he was cute and when I turned his way again to retrieve something I didn’t need in my bag, he looked up again and smiled.

“I think he’s digging me,” I whispered to my friend. When she left, the armchair was empty for a while, providing the perfect opportunity for him to holler since the smiling thing was getting a little trifling. He departed before I did, and I watched him walk out. Just before he opened the door, he turned to look at me again. Grinning this time. “Pshh,” my mind said, but he was still cute.

The following day I returned to the coffee shop to finish my own studies and there was Mr. Cutie in the same spot. I positioned myself diagonally from him then wound up moving to a table right behind his when my laptop ran out of juice. I didn’t want to seem parched or anything but I had work to do and just as much right to be there as he did though I secretly hoped he went there that day hoping to catch my ordering my usual beverage.

The smiling continued. Clearly this brother was so enthralled by my beauty that he could not believe a woman of my caliber would want to talk to him so he felt resigned to a fate of just being an admirer. He was plain ol’ nervous though my smile and eyes were giving him green lights all the way. Or maybe I just don’t know why he didn’t step up. As I prepared to leave and after much inner wrestling, I stood behind him, leaned over and before he could say anything (his mouth did open), I placed my business card in the middle of his biology book page and said, “Here’s my card. Call me when you’re done studying.”

I turned before I walked out the door and he was in competition for the Kool-Aid jug with his smile.

For the record, I like to socialize and chatting with men is easy when I’m not interested in them. Before stepping to him, I was stalling, which caused me to start perspiring profusely but I was glad I made the first move. It felt oddly liberating and for a moment, I sympathized with all the men that had every stepped to me – or any other woman for that matter – and got shut down. Takes a lot of heart.

Oh yes, you’d think by now, four days later, he would have called, right? Nope. I said to call post-studying but I didn’t mean the entire semester. Oh well. I’m willing to try it again. There’s a cute doctor that I’ve noticed in there a few times too…

BTW - I took that picture from my window.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

IF YOU'RE SINGLE, YOU HAVE UNTIL NOVEMBER 15th

2009-10-16T17:38:00.015-04:00

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

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

2009-10-09T16:41:00.003-04:00

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

IS WENDY WILLIAMS THE NEXT OPRAH?

2009-10-08T11:48:00.002-04:00

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

HOLD IT SUMMER, I WASN'T DONE WITH YOU YET

2009-09-04T19:27:00.003-04:00

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

HOTEL OR FRIEND'S HOUSE?

2009-09-03T21:36:00.005-04:00

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

HOW MUCH IS YOUR EGG WORTH?

2009-09-02T16:56:00.003-04:00

For reasons unnecessary to this blog, I wound up in a conversation about sperm donors. Using trusty craigslist.com 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 yahoo.com or gmail.com). 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!

HOUSE PARTY

2009-09-01T19:20:00.009-04:00

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

I DON'T HAVE IN MY TEETH +

2009-08-17T11:52:00.004-04:00

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

I DON'T

2009-08-06T14:10:00.003-04:00

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

HUSTLING

2009-07-23T12:01:00.003-04:00

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

HEALTHCARE

2009-07-07T16:45:00.001-04:00

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

GOOD VERSUS GREAT

2009-06-26T17:39:00.003-04:00

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 - http://otiko_30.blogspot.com/. 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

GREETING THE EX'S NEW BOO

2009-06-17T11:31:00.004-04:00

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

GRIEF

2009-06-15T13:25:00.000-04:00

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

GETTING AXED

2009-06-09T14:12:00.003-04:00

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

GOOD DATE!!!

2009-06-02T14:02:00.003-04:00

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

FLATLINED DATES

2009-05-28T12:50:00.003-04:00

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

FIGURE OF SPEECH

2009-05-26T15:50:00.006-04:00

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

FORGET THE ESTROGEN PARTY

2009-05-22T11:57:00.005-04:00

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 - http://www.jijasali.com/kama.php?category=positions

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

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

FANCY FOOTWORK

2009-05-19T14:12:00.005-04:00

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

FAKE FACEBOOK FRIENDS

2009-05-15T08:33:00.002-04:00

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: http://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/chi-talk-kanye-twittermay14,0,2813941.column

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy “Baller” Ice

EXTREMELY BUSY

2009-04-27T15:05:00.002-04:00

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 - http://www.wikihow.com/Call-in-Sick-when-You-Just-Need-a-Day-Off

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

EYELASHES

2009-04-22T14:30:00.003-04:00

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

EXPOSED

2009-04-20T20:16:00.002-04:00

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

EXCHANGING INFORMATION

2009-04-19T08:53:00.005-04:00

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.

EXTRA BABY BEHAVIOR

2009-04-09T11:51:00.002-04:00

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

EXCITEMENT AT THE LAUNDROMAT

2009-04-01T15:39:00.004-04:00

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 service...in 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

DIGGING FOR GOLD

2009-03-31T11:01:00.002-04:00

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

DOGS

2009-03-24T13:29:00.002-04:00

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

UNTITLED

2009-03-21T10:25:00.005-04:00

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

I CORINTHIANS 13

2009-03-04T13:33:00.004-05:00

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,
-B

CAMERA DANGER - NUDE PICS

2009-03-02T17:59:00.006-05:00

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

BYE BYE TO SOME FRIENDSHIPS

2009-02-26T18:19:00.003-05:00

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

BABY BOY IS A PYT

2009-02-23T20:36:00.002-05:00

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

BUM BROTHERS

2009-02-20T13:32:00.005-05:00

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

BEAU (potentially) IS EX'S FRIEND

2009-02-18T18:52:00.006-05:00

My ex-boyfriend and I from a while ago are finally, at his behest, engaging in a peaceable sort of friendship. The brother is now married.

During the relationship, the ex talked about the many triumphs of his friend, practically willing me to like him though we never met in person. After a while, I became a fan. As luck would have it, I met the ex’s friend a few months after the breakup and realized I had a crush on him. Ironically, the ex’s friend and I move in similar professional circles so we’ve encountered each other several times and he is electrifying and scrumptious. I know all about him but he has no idea who I am outside of work nor does he realize we have a mutual “friend” who happens to be my ex. The only way he would know that (beyond my name) is if my ex whipped out a photograph of me and that would be kind of crazy.

Anyway, I totally dig this brother; he’s soooo my type, if I was a type-caster. The last time I saw him, we were crackling with chemistry but I had to jet, not before I copped some contact information! My ex, again married, mentioned that he and his buddy linked up recently which gave me another clue that they are bonafide friends. Previously, I thought they were acquaintances.

Question is, can I holler at the ex’s friend? I alluded to that tidbit during the conversation with the ex an ol’ boy had the audacity to become irate saying, “You better not.” I laughed it off but thought, “Listen to this sucker. If I want to holler at his boy, there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

My sentiment is this – we’re all adults and the ex is married. What’s the big deal? Shoo, I’ll even invite him and his wife to the wedding. After all, if had spent less time bigging up the brother, he may not have even crossed my mind.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

BOOTY-LESS CALLS

2009-02-03T22:59:00.004-05:00

Constant talk of recession is affecting men’s sensibilities. Any cursory glance at a newspaper and you’ll read that people are trying to reduce their spending, worried about job losses, yaddah, yaddah, yad. However, no one is discussing a great problem – men are cutting back on participating in booty calls.

Several women friends and I were chatting and our conversation eventually turned to brothers. These women shared similar, interesting experiences – men were having issues with a purely physical relationship. In no way am I promoting promiscuity but instead, providing a snippet of real discussions. My cohorts indicated that their respective “man-friend” – whether from a previous relationship or part of the ‘fan club’ (don’t front guys, you’ve been a ‘fan’ before) – felt “a type of way” when the suggestion of “coming through” came up.

Our discussion revealed that some men respond with stammering somethings about the no-strings-attached-just-come-with-your-best-game offer being a “sweet deal” but also felt “objectified.” Oh, you want to think and feel now? Did you feel objectified while watching your copious collection of videos or when you hollered at the next chick during the relationship? These same brothers want to “commit to an honest friendship” and spend time talking now. What is there to talk about? It’s not a love-making-cuddle-me-talk-through-the-night session; it’s a get off and go thing. Conversations should be reserved for bonafide friends and therapists.

The point is that men step to women all the time about wanting a physical, non-committal relationship and seemingly, as soon as a woman steps to a man, he gets his boxers in a bunch. Purely a double standard.

Certainly some great brothers are having multiple epiphanies, realizing that they’re getting older and should build an honest, respectful life with one lovely lady but for the others, really? A man chimed in saying that this type of "aggressive woman" behavior makes men feel emasculated. Brother, please. Either you're with it or your not. And if the latter, there is someone else to take your spot. LOL

Holler with your perspectives.

Later Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

AN AMAZING LIFE

2009-01-29T14:42:00.005-05:00

Mon amis, I’ve missed you but I’m here now so cyber-hug me!

Betsy was in D.C. for the inauguration and had an AMAZING time partying with EPMD (Erik Sermon said my eyes were more gorgeous than his) and, “Doing the Butt” at Spike Lee’s Ball. The latter was truly the highlight of the parties however, the feeling of unity that spread through everyone at the actual inauguration is something I will retain forever…and pass along to my children one day.

While folks are feeling good and looking good, you would think some brothers would feel inspired to change their appearance. I’m not saying go out and buy designer duds, but try to improve their physical state. I was walking to work the other day and saw the most offensive thing – man breasts. Now Betsy loves a thick brother. I acknowledge that the too-chiseled Morris Chestnut types may be attractive but I prefer to lay my head on a little tummy, not a rock. I want to feel like I’m in a plush bed, not lying on concrete. But anyway, this dude, had breasts that were larger than the average woman. Clearly he was past the training bra state.

If that wasn’t offensive enough, his breasts were SAGGING! It’s one thing if a woman’s breasts sag because of natural causes like age/gravity, child bearing, etc. (Newsflash to men – the perkiness fades away…lol) but a man? I wondered if he, like a woman, used baby powder under his joints to prevent excessive sweating. And don’t front you saggy breast women – in the summer, baby powder is your best friend to prevent chafing. Works on the inner thighs too. My momma taught me that!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

DECEMBER NOTES

2008-12-31T17:22:00.004-05:00

This has been a good year. Certainly Betsy had a fair share of lows but there was nothing that was insurmountable. That will never happen.

2008, as it fades away with the dimming sunlight was about building and maintaining healthy relationships. I lost some folks – deleted their contact information because they offered no value in my life. Likewise, I met and/or grew closer to some magnificent people – EP, QB, KW, RC and of course, WP. These people entertained, mentored, listened, prayed and loved me. For them, I am grateful. Thank you.

For my inner circle guys and gals, you know who you are. Even if we don’t speak or see each other everyday, you are still my shining stars, especially when we found ourselves out on a late night cruising adventure, pole dancing, having brunch, shopping, laughing over another lost job, celebrating a promotion, brainstorming, cheering each other on and traveling.

I am ending this year on a high note. I’m happy 2009 is hours away but really, each day, each hour is an opportunity to do something different or make a change and that starts now. I compromised too much in the last twelve months and sometimes, right at the very beginning of a situation. ‘Twas a learning experience in one situation that led a half-ass relationship where 50% time I wanted out. And then there was the one that I wanted in… ☺

No resolutions for 2009. I have things to accomplish. Lots of them so going forward, call me Baller, baby.

All the best to everyone and know that everything substantive is possible.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Baller Ice

DO IT IN DECEMBER

2008-12-03T09:00:00.009-05:00

It's December folks and Betsy is super-motivated. The universe shifted in my favor and all the stuff I was b-sing with just came to an end. I'm challenging me and you should challenge you too! To reference the great songstress Khia, "Just do it, do it, do it do it do it now" – from the hit, My Neck, My Back. The time is really now.

Most folks have long to-do lists but the issue is how many of those tasks are you checking off? If the answer is some or almost all, that's just not good enough. All tasks need to be completed and that's what December is about - everything. I want it all brand new socks and drawers. Me myself and I and if you can't get with the Betsy program, trust that some other mother-brother, will. Folks have been suckling at teats for too long and if by the twelfth month of the year there is no major progress/improvement, then I'll see you next lifetime. If you're regressing, holler at me when things are moving forward because I have no time for fake rhymes.

I’m working on projects that should have BEEN completed in the new season but thank goodness I'm energized and knocking them out. Here’s a snapshot of things, big and small that Betsy will complete before year’s end:

1. give away coats not worn in over 2 years (I’m not about to start rocking a Triple Fat Goose even if I had one)
2. send photos to friends and family (sometimes it takes a few months for me to upload)
3. enroll in a pole dancing class (DM I have my stilettos ready!)
4. buy orchids
5. learn chess
6. volunteer
7. send holiday cards before Christmas
8. apply to grad school/scholarships
9. order business cards
10. cut off or put some folks on the back burner

The last one is especially important because some people add/added zero value to my life. I maintained relationships with them for what seemed like an eternity and their situation kept getting more tragic each time. Now, I’m just tired of it. How many times can one person’s electricity go off in a month? Your car was towed again? Going to court with your baby daddy again? I think he’s intentionally working off the books so you can’t collect a check! For the folks are habitually broke - the bank is closed. There will be no more 'spotting' you or going out with you because you only give up the exact cost of your meal. Did you forget tax/gratuity on the ribeye steak and three drinks you ordered? My favorite – you’re so busy you can’t see me? Stay busy because with all the grand things I have going on, I know you’re not trying to tell me you’re a workaholic – working on a t-shirt side hustle for the last four years and ain’t sell one shirt much less press up a sample. Please! Sorry, I digress.

Anyway, you get it. You know those folks.

On the flip side, do things a little different for you. Holler at that colleague and keep it discreet. Date more and sweat the title less. If the brother is acting the fool, let him keep his dunce hat and holler at someone else – that adores you just the way you. Go out solo and scrub the floor with it. Meditate. Apologize. Say I love you more. Wish your enemies well. Be honest.

Anyway, you get it so do it, do it, do it, do it, do it and maybe your neck and back can get involved. Oh yes, share your list as well!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

The recap: Persaud Brothers party at Canal Room. Banging

On tap: Spring fashion collection preview

CRY ME BROKE BROTHERS

2008-11-23T23:45:00.006-05:00

Okay, fine. Recession. Folks are feeling the pinch in their pockets, grocery items seemed to increase by 50% and Betsy has to go Salon Dominicano where the stylists call me “Mami” instead of my usual expensive ‘sister’ stylist who knows my name. With all this oxymoronic spending more and cutting back, THE LAST THING Betsy wants to hear is a man crying broke. Actually, in west indian terms, it’s “bruk.” What the frig is that? A dutch date?

Brothers, if you’re in the courting stages with a woman, the last thing they, or let me speak for myself, I want to discuss is how hard your times are. I watch CNN, I know the financial industry is collapsing and people are losing jobs in almost every industry, but you can take me out on a date and sponsor the entire event? How about you borrow a few c-notes from your boy because I’m not interested in looking up at a menu; I want to look down.

I’m not against paying but if every conversation revolves around how low your cash flow is, that’s an issue. My electric bill is sky high but I’m not pulling out the statement to show you on our first date. How awkward would it be if I said, “Look, my service interruption date is November 28th. I wonder if ConEd will do a payment arrangement?” LOL. I handles my business (yes, I pluralized) – even if I’m standing in line at the coin change counter at Commerce Bank.

If a man is going to talk for forty minutes straight about how tight he is, the likelihood of a date looks like nil. Not because he’s “bruk” but because dates with him because would entail him coming to my place, complaining some more, watching my cable for free, eating up my Whole Foods food for free then slipping in something about “liking to stay indoors.”

It’s okay to cut back on expenses; just be upfront about it in a non-complaining way and get a little creative. Do these hips look like they need another meal? Don’t answer that. Suggest a cultural activity to your new lady-friend like going to First Friday at a museum where admission is reduced or FREE. Meet for lunch/brunch (less costly than dinner) or, spend some downtime at a bookstore then head to a chocolate bar for desserts. Amazing what you can do in public with tea, chocolate and cantaloupe slices. Finally, if you absolutely have to come to my place because there’s lint and crumbs in your pocket, then bring some microwavable popcorn from your house, along with my favorite movie which you happen to have (or borrowed from a friend) and massage my feet and back the entire time since my spa appointments are cancelled until further notice. Damn cutbacks.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

COMMODE COURTESY

2008-11-21T09:02:00.004-05:00

When you’re in a shared bathroom space like work, why is it some people don’t understand how to be courteous? For instance, there are three stalls. You’re in the last one because it’s farthest from the door, sink and anyone else who may enter. Then someone enters. Common courtesy dictates this person take the first stall but not this lady. Runs right into the middle stall. The last thing I want to hear is what a person is dropping next to me.

For some people, it doesn’t matter if there are ten stalls. They’re right next to you.

Men have it even worse. Urinals. A brother is standing at the last urinal and a dude bypasses the other four stalls to stand next to him. What’s up with that?

The worst offenders are those that want to talk to you in your stall from their stall. In the event folks haven’t figured it out, this is my time. I don’t want to talk about what you ate for dinner or gas prices or how Will and Jada look on the cover of Essence. I don’t care. I’m using the bathroom. Talk to me on the outside when the remnants of whatever you’re letting go doesn’t choke me. I can’t open my mouth to talk, much less breathe. My gosh. Eat less curry goat meat or something.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

The recap: Level V. That joint was pumping!

On tap: Brooklyn's newest Friday night party will be bringing the heat this Friday November 21st. Presenting: "Hotter Than July" at the Lowpost
(Habana Outpost Lounge). Another reason to keep it in Brooklyn. 2 floors of red-hot dance, sizzling old school & roasting reggae joints
all night long. DJs The Ahficionados (Deffrei & Reggiment), OP! & July will be stoking the fire & keeping it raging on the 1nes & 2wos.

Admission is $3.
Low Post: 757 Fulton Street corner of So. Portland
9pm to 4am

COMPANIONSHIP DOESN'T EQUAL A RELATIONSHIP

2008-11-12T08:51:00.005-05:00

Winter is almost upon us which means frigid months ahead. If you're not "bunned" or "booed" up yet, it may just be too late to get a winter snuggle buddy.

Typically, men start to act crazy around this time - the holidays. They want to holler at you but there's the awkwardness of holidays with family and friends, company soirees and of course, gift giving. Does a man invite the woman he’s been dating for the last three weeks to Thanksgiving dinner with his family since ol’ girl folks are west coast? Or, you tell the person you’re dating how grand your company holiday parties are and you can bring a guest. Do you invite the man you’ve been dating for the last month because he’s full of personality? Or better yet, are you snuggled up together counting down to the new year or should you jet to a tropical isle with your homegirls?

Lastly, there’s the gift giving “situation.” Do you give just because you want to? Is it a little awkward when you give just because and you hear, “Oh, I don’t celebrate Christmas.” Then why did you accept the gifts you $#@&?! Sorry, thinking of a previous situation. DM – the scarf is yours if you ever see it again!

Back to bunning up. Betsy wrote this while laying in bed at 11pm last night and I kept thinking, “It sure is chilly.” The only thing next to me was my blackberry with its blinking light winking at me. I would much rather a lovely brother to snuggle up with than my phone.

To clarify, companionship doesn't equal relationship - as in we're together, boy/girlfriend or partnership. Companionship is someone that Betsy wants to hang out with when it's convenient. Now, a man may call and though it wasn't on my mind to see him, I'm happy to hang out. See folks, conversation + convenience = companionship. For everyone. And no booty calls! It's about spending time with someone you're actually interested in minus the title, obligations of making that person a priority and holiday quandaries. I don’t need to be someone’s girlfriend right now. I just want to get together and have a good time. It’s that simple. I suppose though, when you tell a man that, he has a difficult time processing that information as he believes every woman is a man-eater. Nope. I’m a nibbler. LOL

Seriously though, there are a lot of single folks out there - Betsy included - (sigh) but I have options. We all have options. If the person you're dating is hung up on titles, hang him up and keep it moving. And share the love! if you see someone that looks like your friend's "type", get some contact information on the person and pass it along. A former coworker met his girlfriend like that and now he's married!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

The recap: being off for Veteran's Day and sleeping late

On Tap: Just Danny Simmons party. Holler!

CANCELING DATES

2008-11-10T17:21:00.004-05:00

Recently, someone called Betsy a flake. A %$#@!&* flake – can you believe that!?! Then I thought about it and realized that lately, I’ve been, um, committed to people and events that I just can’t make/meet. Classic superwoman syndrome.

I WANT to attend but I’m so busy doing a zillion things that sometimes when it comes to a social event, I just don’t have the energy or enthusiasm to make it. That’s when bed rock and pillow jam takes precedence.

Sunday past though, I held myself accountable to a prior engagement – a celebratory Obama brunch with the ladies. I was totally committed to meeting up with my friends then I received a message indicating that more than half the group cancelled!?!? Not only was a bit peeved but I was STARVING. I foregoed eating, stacking my hunger up for the hurtin’ I planned to put on buttermilk pancakes and chicken sausages only to find the outing was cancelled. On top of that, I declined another brunch invite saying that I was already committed to another engagement. The self accountability thing really works.

Thing is folks, it’s just not cool to cancel. Of course there are instances where an unforeseen circumstance comes up but other than that, learn to be accountable. If you need improvement in this area, make sure your friends keep you accountable by reminding you about engagements. Too many unjustified cancellations will have you on the no-more invite list.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

The recap – no brunch – obviously but made it out for a bit at a local bar/lounge. The spot was very un-noteworthy but thank goodness the company was entertaining.

On tap: Danny Simmons party Thursday. Holler if you want to rock.

BLACK WITH CRACKS

2008-10-31T13:58:00.004-04:00

Women who wear excessive foundation bother me - especially when the hug me and I'm wearing white.

Recently, I ran into a woman I had not seen in eons. Ol' girl hugged me tight while pressing her highly 'decorated' cheek against my au naturale one.

When I finally arrived home to happily wash of the NYC grime, I noticed a HUGE spot on my cheekbone that looked like a bruise from a brawl. After my initial shock, I realized ol' girl's mocca foundation and purple blush smeared on my face. I was annoyed (but glad this makeup offender dodged my white shirt) and was astonished to discover that the hug-press-your-cheek-against mine had extended to my line of my jaw!

I've seen this woman before and she is always 'decorated'. Don't women know by now that applying massive amounts of foundation and whatever else can clog your pores further? Your pores need to breathe for goodness sake. People aren't stupid and makeup doesn't hide everything. We see your blemishes.

Further, what do women like this do when they're in a relationship? Apply makeup before going to bed? Or, say if they're getting down with their boyfriend/partner/husband - unless you're into straight missionary and don't turn your head and the brother never holds your face tenderly or tries to kiss you, the makeup won't come off but otherwise, you're dirtying their sheets! One or two times may be passable but what man wants to sleep with a woman who leaves brown all over the sheet? Yuck.

It’s alright to be gussied up and beautied out sometimes but e'eryday? Do THESE women wear white? You know what? They're probably the ones that try on clothes and when another woman goes to purchase the item, the size she needs is the makeup stained one your excessive foundation-self left behind because you left the stained and picked up a fresh one.

Lighten up on the makeup ladies and recognize that part of your beauty is your flaws. Even Betsy them. No, only one. ;-)

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

The recap: easy week, not much

On tap: MANJINGA MASQUERADE PARTY @ SPUTNIK w/SAMBA DANCERS & LIVE DRUMMERS: FREE B4 10PM $7. w/RSVP OCTOBER 31ST
262 Taafe Place, by Dekalb Ave.
Brooklyn
9:00pm - 4:00am
FREE B4 10:00pm, $10 After
$7 with RSVP
Drink specials all night
G to Classon
www.myspace.com/manjingaparty

BAD ECONOMY & CRIME

2008-10-27T12:54:00.004-04:00

Seems like each time I pick up a newspaper or watch tv, there is talk of a bad economy - layoffs, foreclosures, gauge-like gas prices and stay-cations (staying at home for vacation instead of traveling). The one thing I haven't heard much about, conceivably a direct effect of the aforementioned, is crime rates. In the last several weeks, three people I know have been robbed. One person was pick-pocketed; another robbed at gunpoint and the last, an assault (near beat down) and robbery. Two of the three crimes were committed by young men who thus far, have not been apprehended.

It's easy to cry, "Foul!" and rightfully so, but this seems to point to a larger issue at hand - folks are desperate and making crime an option. When someone gets jailed for stealing a cell phone, that's sheer stupidity.

I met a young man recently in rehabilitation/education program that was on the brink of 'graduating' and needed a job. After applying for a few jobs with no callbacks yet, he expressed that he didn't want to commit another crime (robbery) but he was growing weary of stomach pains due to hunger. He lives with him mom and she doesn't work so the both of them are sitting around starving and having a swallow your spit contest. Clearly, his stupidity was a big part of the problem (stealing doesn't pay) but his story was real. The problem was and is, there are others in this situation that see violating other people as an option. They may be uneducated coupled with desperation and in the streets. A smart person in the streets would have went a church, food pantry or soup kitchen to eat and get information on social services.

So folks, just a message to be more alert (get off that blackberry when walking home, especially in the night; have your keys in your hand before you get to your car or house door; avoid going in your wallet repeatedly for small purchases [like puffy cheese doodles] - keep a five spot in your front pocket, etc.) which will greatly reduce the chance of being jacked.

Birthday shout out to KD!!!!!

The recap: Habana Outpost with QB! Thanks for a great afternoon. At 3:30 pm the food hit the spot. At 3:30 am, I was on the toilet with the worst stomach pains ever. That was a clear message from my stomach: "Don't eat food from a truck silly." The message was repeated at 4:10 am. Had to share and hopefully save some folks from the same plight. Habana will NOT be seeing my money again.

On tap: Vote & Live! tonight at the Tribeca Grand. It's gonna be big.
We are screening two films about how the GOP stole the past two elections and how they are planning to do it again. very important. please spread the word and do whatever you can to help us elevate the visibility of the event and the issue.
And if the future of democracy isn't enough we are having a great party upstairs with DJs Spinna, Moni, Blu Jemz, Herbert Holler, plus speakers including Kevin Powell and City Councilperson Gale Brewer. Doors at 8:30. open wine bar until the river runs dry. screenings at 9:00.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

BETTER WEEKS AHEAD

2008-10-23T17:09:00.004-04:00

Betsy is having a long week and the weekend is not even here yet. I've been under the weather (but recouping) and some folks graciously offered to take care of me. One of those offers was grossly unwanted.

The story: A coworker has been CHATTING my ears off for weeks and I've endured this man's conversation upon conversion upon conversation. One day he said to me, "I was thinking about you this weekend and that's pretty big because I never think about my coworkers." I wasn't thinking about him. Another time dude says, "I was thinking about you again but didn't have your number to call." I changed the topic of the conversation. Third time, "Hey, give me you number so we can talk. You ran across my mind the other day. I wanted to talk to you but didn't have your number." It would be almost impossible to call if someone never gave you their number. Finally he said, "What's your number?" Folks, I couldn't get out of that one so I gave him the digits with this addendum, "I rarely answer my phone so best text me."

A non-thirsted out man would have read between the lines and never sent me a text but not ol' boy. He sent a text to find out how my weekend was going. "Swell," I thought to myself. "We can talk during normal business hours and not Saturday afternoon."

When Betsy was out sick from work, he sent a text that was something to the effect of, "Hey, I rushed into the office to see you today and you weren't there. Heard you're out sick. Sorry to hear but let me know if you need anything. I can use my Dr. Feel Good Hands to make you feel better. Bleh, bleh bleh." People, what kind of what stuff is that? We're coworkers for goodness sake! I've never even hinted that we should be anything but amicable staff members. In fact, when he offered to take me out to lunch, I dipped out on him and he was a bit irate. Said I needed to get some fresh air. From his hovering self.

Not only is this man WAY inappropriate, he'll also qualify for a social security check - next year!

The kicker now is that he's throwing me shade! I said hello to him one day and he walked right by. Tried this a second time and he acted like it was painful for him to say hi.

Note: work is place of business, not a playground. I don't play in sandboxes that belong to dirty old men.

The recap: Danny Simmons art fundraiser. Tres cool.

On tap: Havana Outpost this weekend folks!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

BUDGETING

2008-10-20T09:04:00.005-04:00

The other day, I bought a pair of shoes, not the flats I originally set out to buy but instead, a pair of fancy stilettos that were well, too fabulous to resist.

This purchase led major purchasing contemplation. I've always bought what I wanted (within reason) and paid my credit card off in full at the end of the month but, and I hate to say this, the recession is really affecting me. When I actually sat down do a serious budget (again), I realized how my grocery expense had increased by at least 20%. The tissue boxes at Family Dollar used to be $3.50; now they're $4.50. A half-gallon of ice cream used to be $4.99; now it's a quart and change (damn company shrunk the carton thinking folks wouldn't notice) which means I have to buy the Cookies & Cream flavor frequently. For the first time I bought some random brand of chicken because it was on sale. My commitment to Perdue could not be sustained when a pack of their chicken is $6.39/lb. I had to buy the $1.99/lb no-frills brand sale joint I never heard of. I cut back on the cab rides, started washing some dry clean only clothes in the washer but my dollars still seem to be disappearing.

On top of that, the NYC Comptroller William Thompson announced that over the next two years, NYC will lose 165,000 jobs; 35,000 of them will be in the financial services sector. And my friend was layed off recently - 1 of the 35,000 jobs the comptroller talked about- already. In a way, I've been able to rebuke this talk of recession. I was having a great life, living it up over the summer but when my friend lost her job it was like the dude at the end of Spike Lee's School Daze screaming, "WAKE UP!!!!!!" I'm up, I'm up, I'm up!

A departure from the usual mélange of musings but this incessant talk of recession is troubling. So my new shoes isn't really the problem (though I could have paid a bill or two with that money) but I'm looking at ways to cut back and with the exception of using candles instead of Con-Ed and eating Ramen noodles (never had those), my coffers are looking mighty low. I even thought about getting a second job but truthfully, the idea of working at some mindless retail job for $12/hour is even more depressing.

This all brings me to this - entrepreneurship. According to the comptroller, almost 1 out of every 5 persons is self-employed. Besides the computer technology industry, seems like folks should be moving their business ideas forward.

So, is anyone finding more financial success as a f/t entrepreneur? Anyone have a side hustle that is bringing in some good bucks? Anyone lost a job and is now branching out on their own f/t? Or, let us know your cutback plan.

Share your story folks!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR - OVERWOOING

2008-10-16T20:38:00.003-04:00

I was irate with a fellow I dated because he wasn't a good communicator. Dude insisted on sending IMs instead of picking up the phone to talk. I'm cool with some text messaging and IMs BUT that should be supplemental communication, not primary.

A mischievous angel must have understood/heard my plea because lo and behold, along came a brother that called and texted me so often that I dubbed it “overwooing.”

At first, I was alright with it; I even found it flattering. However, after less than a week of conversing, dude asked me to marry him. At first, I chuckled. Hahaha, that was cute. It was cute when he said it again for the second time the following day. But, in less than a week he brought up the Jagged Edge, “meet me at the alter” four times! Listen folks, I want to get married but not to someone whose last name is a mystery and I’ve yet to go on a first date with. The last 'marriage' conversation went something like "We can get married next month." As in November – before Thanksgiving. LOL. He has a job so it’s not like he wants to get own my health insurance…you know how some folks do.

I'm not in love with him nor am I in need of a shotgun wedding (see previous post). If this is idea of joking, the humor exited the building a while ago.

Again, generally, I like a man that calls morning, noon and night - just to say hello (LOL).... not extensive-talk-your-ear-off conversations. But this brother wants to talk in the morning for 20 minutes, during an entire lunch break, when I get home from work and right before I go to sleep. LOL. He has a lot to say and I have a lot to listen to I suppose. Men, please do not get discouraged by going "hard body" - a term my male friends from the Bronx use to describe, "hollering hard". But when you volunteer to be a househusband, call incessantly to the point where I turn my phone volume off, your hard body approach becomes a major turnoff.

Oh yes, there was this other guy that volunteered to drive almost 30 minutes from his house to mine…to take me to the Laundromat. It was a nice gesture though :-) Mr. Papers for President, some men like going out of their way for a sister! :-)

The recap: Nada

On tap: Banana-cinnamon pancakes for breakfast tomorrow and ladies night out in the evening. Ladies, drinks at my house if you want. Holler.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

BUST IT BABY...

2008-10-15T13:55:00.008-04:00

Betsy totally believes in life happening in this order – wedding, bedding then conception.

Realist that I am though, I recognize things do not always happen in that order - or even under those circumstances.

The story: I ran into a man I dated a million years ago and we start catching up about our respective lives. I didn’t see a ring on his finder (and no, I wasn’t trying to holler back) so I jokingly asked, “When is the wedding?” Dude starts stammering an almost incomprehensible answer and finally, I piece it together. The woman he’s with (and has been with on and off over the last few years) is pregnant. Since they now live together, they’re clearly having an ‘on’ moment.

The shacking up isn’t necessarily newsworthy but Betsy was astonished by his response – he doesn’t want to have children out of wedlock. Guess he didn’t buy Fantasia’s first album which included the hit, “Baby Mama.” The idea of running down the aisle - A SHOTGUN WEDDING!!! - because ol’ girl is prego is very noble however, what did they expect when they were sexing sans protection? When you hit it raw, there is a very real chance of pregnancy occurring. Dude seemed a bit shaken. He should have listened to Wyclef’s song, Anything Can Happen “Sex with no condoms, oh no, that will never happen.” I would like to add…until marriage. That’s the utopian side of me slipping in. LOL

Feel free to chime in…especially the baby mamas and daddys.

The recap: Shout out to EM for helping to make my mini-vacation, fantastic and inclusive of multiple scrumptious breakfasts! (can you pluralize breakfast?)

On tap: Sleep

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

BUY ME A DRANK

2008-10-06T15:55:00.006-04:00

Betsy like drinks, especially when they're free. A quick survey concluded that other women (and men) enjoy free drinks proffered at a club/lounge. It’s not that we (women) cannot buy our own drinks. Quite the contrary. It is more chivalrous (and seemingly tastes better) when some lovely gentleman buys it.

This is what I've encountered: A Trinidadian, Guyanese, Grenadian or any caribbean man will whine your waist out, see you choking because your throat is so parched from dancing with him for the last 18 soca songs and because he refused to let you go, you’re sweating like you just ran the 25K marathon. To add insult to injury, he will politely excuse himself to buy a red bull or Heineken for himself (unless it's a real caribbean party and they're selling Ting - he'll opt for that).

American men will hip hop you to death, rapping and spitting in your face to some Jigga song like they created the lyrics. After, they'll say, "Excuse Miss, what’s your name?” Followed by, “I’ll be back after I get this drink. I like the way you move." Is that whack ‘compliment’ supposed to keep you rooted to the floor thirsty? Thirsty, I say! Dudes between Rhode Island and New Jersey will just slip away then you see their head bobbing at the bar. SMH

The exceptions are southern men. Those southerners like to have a good time and will buy you a drank before they even start blocking your spot and your man-traffix. Actually, the southerners Betsy encountered buy bottles and just sway all night. With the exception of go-go, these fellas are quite content to have a drink and a two-step.

The one group of men Betsy has to give a shout out to is Nigerian men. Maybe it’s something in the kokoro or jollof rice but these brothers like to buy everyone in their vicinity a drink. No, make that drinks. Why? They know how to have a good time and like to share the wealth. It's called good club/party citizenry. Note to men: follow this lead.

So ladies, the next time you’re out and some tight, cheap brother wants to dance you to death, point at your throat and say, “Buy me a drank. Whatcha think about that?” And no you can't come home with me. LOL

The recap: lounge in Brooklyn. Shout out to MT for dragging Betsy out of her bed and shout out to WP for joining the festivities.

On Tap: Lots. Details to follow.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

BAD BREATH

2008-10-02T20:57:00.005-04:00

Have you ever started talking to someone and immediately their breath burned your nostrils? Well that happened to Betsy today. It’s one thing when someone is talking to you and his or her breath is foul but the ultimate tragedy is when the person asks a question and you open your mouth to respond - letting the toxic odor permeate your mouth. Then, their breath is so odiferous, heavy and tart, it seems to land on your tongue, allowing you to taste hot, raging frowsy funk.

While on the bus this afternoon, this girl asked me if my phone was good. I replied, "Hmmm?" hoping that give her breath some time to dissipate before answering. I erred in my thinking. This girl must have eaten a skunk and hummus sandwich topped with extra garlic and pickles for lunch because surely a fire rose up from the pit of her stomach to manifest itself as bad breath.

What made it even worse was that she was sitting next to me talking to her pops. Couldn't her dad say something or offer her a cool drink (look like he had a bag of groceries) to douse the flames that blazed in his daughter’s mouth? And, he KNEW her joint was humming because he kept rubbing his noise when she spoke. Shame on him.

If that wasn’t enough, it became apparent that bad breath ran in the family. The father's breath was raging too!! Each time he spoke, the daughter sniffed or rubbed her nose. I held my breath because the dad's joint was like an INFERNO!!! My gosh. My eyes were watering and this man was talking like his life depended on the conversation. Talk about hot. It was a million degrees in his mouth. His mouth needs to be hosed down by a fire truck.

Everyone has bad breath at some point but this father-daughter duo took first place in stank.

Speaking of which, RANDOM QUESTION: why do children wake up before sunrise, stare at you until you wake open only to ask if you're awake? LOL

On tap: First Friday at the Brooklyn Museum filled with all the Havana Outpost, I'm-so-creative-my-artsy-fartsy-oozes from-my-every-pore-types. Yes, I may be there as well. lol

Lata Lovelies,
Betsy Ice

BOSSES WHO TOUCH YOUR FOOD

2008-09-30T19:06:00.004-04:00

Random question: Do/would you share a toothbrush with someone you're dating? I'm not saying use each other's toothbrush every single day (ewww) but say you're traveling or you wind up spending the night at your significant other's place - sans toothbrush. Do you use his/her's toothbrush...considering you've kissed them previously? ;-)

The story: Betsy's OCD is in high gear! Someone in the office ordered a few boxes of pizza and against my salad-loving lunch, I decided to have a slice. As I go to help myself, my "oh so helpful" boss decides to "serve" me. Ol' girl touched my pizza!!!! I was livid. The crust is my favorite part. So I'm standing there nibbling on the slice thinking how I could just throw the entire thing away because my appetite is gone but then I remember the kids starving around the world and save the children images guilt me into eating it. Of course, I ate around the crust and anywhere I thought her fingers may have touched.

This is what I didn’t understand - though I appreciated the gesture, I would have been alright taking a slice on my own. And if you insist, why not use a napkin to pick it up? It's like an office party where the person cutting the cake lets every slice fall in their hand...then licks their fingers and continues to cut and serve.

The recap: played it low key last night

On tap: Ashanti producer party or something like that. Let me know if you want to go...I'm on the guest list and highly unlikely I'll show up. Betsy has a date tonight ;-)

Lata Lovelies,
Betsy Ice

BACK IN THE SWING OF THINGS

2008-09-29T19:44:00.007-04:00

Yes Lovelies, Betsy is back and I've missed you as well!!! I've been traveling quite a bit and doing a million things but you now have my undivided attention.

Speaking of attention, why is when you tell someone you have to run for a meeting, they say "Oh, I just wanted to tell you something really quick." You spent your quick time uttering that damn line! Today, I'm hurrying off to a meeting with 3 minutes to make a zillion copies and this woman wants to tell me a story. When I kept walking, she walked along to give me her story which was longer that "really quick." Telling me that folks are getting fired, discharged or layed off (however you chose to classify it but the fact is, you ain't gots no job) is never a quick story. See folks, I had to ask follow up questions like "Who?" and "For real?" or respond with, "Oh gosh." Of course, none of this affects Betsy because I keeps (intentionally plural) the number to unemployment on speed dial. If you elect to pay taxes at the end of the year, that's a cool $1620/month for existing. Free money!!!! LOL.

Yes folks, Betsy lost a job at before and was elated. And had a comfy severance package to boot. ;-)

Random things: Sat in a meeting last week and the entire time this Jamaican woman (must lay of the Hatians for a bit. LOL) used her pen cap to clean her ears - same pen cap for both ears! Guess she didn't realize America sells Q-Tips. If that wasn't enough, she "cleaned" the brown wax off with her hands. Won't be borrowing a pen from her...or eating any dishes she makes for a potluck. That's just nasty.

Next, this man announced that he went to the bathroom and the water wasn't working. So clearly he didn't wash his hands. I patted his shoulder to say thank you/farewell and dude extended his hand for a shake. I almost fainted.

The Recap: Much too much so let's talk about this weekend past. Shout out to WP for starting my weekend off quite deliciously. Shout out to QB for finishing it by rocking to MoCaDa (show me your pics!) and chiming in with OCD at Anima - an Italian restaurant on Myrtle Avenue that's NOT worth going to despite the free tiramisu they gave us. When we asked for small plates for oil (to dip our bread), the waiter snatched it from an adjacent table. I put it back when the waiter left and asked who seemed to be an owner or manager for another. Dude did the same thing and THEN grabbed another from a third table. Just terrible. Those plates could have been there all day collecting dust especially since the door was open. SMH

On Tap: BAM emerging artists on Wednesday and VP debate at a colleagues place. Anyone down to rock?

Lata Lovelies,
Betsy Ice

AFFECTIONATE TERM

2008-08-27T19:56:00.012-04:00

Walking home in my newly gentrified area (remember back in the day the term was “mixed”?), a brother hollered at a white woman saying, “Whaddup Snow Bunny?! I can give you love too.” I was quite amused by his comment though I knew he could have been more tactful in his hollering. But sometimes, that’s how the “around the way” guys do things.

My neighborhood, which used to be inhabited primary by little old black women who lived in their house with their grand and great-grandchildren, changed. The faces moving in are more like Wonder Bread - and not the whole wheat kind either.

As Snow Bunny continued her walk home she commented to her friends, “Why would I listen to anyone who calls me by the color of my skin?” I don’t know how white guys holler at white chicks – do they even call it hollering? – but that is how brothers get down sometimes. This brother’s let-me-get-your-attention tactics wasn’t completely about her skin color (okay, the snow part), but when was bunny exclusive to white women? If this man was speaking to a sister, using some similar awkwardly, amusing but mildly insensitive comment, it probably would have sounded like, “Hey Thickness” or “My African princess/queen, I could be your king.” For women walking down Church, Nostrand, Flatbush or Utica Avenues, the line would sound more like, “Come yah Sweetness,” or “Dahlin (followed by a wink)'” or a rendition of Beenie Man's "Girls Dem Sugar."

The fact is, some men will try to approach a woman no matter what skin color she is. Snow Bunny was in this man's line of vision and he had nothing to lose by trying to verbally get her attention. Racial slurs of any kind are unacceptable but Snow Bunny...there's something comical about it. I wonder how Snow Bunny would have reacted to, “Girl, you are a fine piece of chocolate. White chocolate.” ☺

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

The recap : cookout in LI (just finished eating the leftovers), another screening of Sex in the City (that movie was more funny the second time around).

On tap: amusement park with a crop of fine men in sports. Oh yeah! My sport is looking…I’m inspired to pull out my “Carrie” Single in the City… at a park ☺ Kidding…

AN EX FRIENDSHIP- POSSIBLE?

2008-08-18T11:34:00.013-04:00

Note: Not a picture of my ex. Details of who these dudes are, below.

Under certain circumstances, I believe it makes sense to be friends, or at least amicable with an ex spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend/partner. For instance, if the chick is baby mom’s, keep the peace and be cool with her - and vice versa for the Mr. Baby Daddy of the Year. Say you own property or have a business together; it would be a good idea to be civil until you can claim everything yourself. Kidding…sort of.

Now, there are instances outside of the aforementioned that friendships with exes are permissible. One ex (from back in the day) and I are good friends. So chummy that if I knew a little lovely lady, I would hook him up with her. We talk occasionally and may even PLATONICALLY link up. Diddy, we’re overdue dinner ☺

The story: Betsy’s ex whom she has no valid reason to call friend, “reached out to see how things are going.” Needless to say, I’m a tad wary of his actions. Granted, we broke up a while ago and I no longer have any animosity towards him but I certainly can’t see the relevance in a friendship, especially now. Theoretically, if I saw the brother walking down the street, I would exchange pleasantries but I am certainly not keeping his info top of mind or inviting him to one of my Sunday brunches.

What bothers me more than him “reaching out” which I can tolerate for 9.5 minutes, is the fact that he’s married. I mean, when his wife says, “Honey, how was your day? Anything new and exciting?” Does he reply, “Why yes. I called my ex. Again. You know, the one I was with shortly before I married you?” LOL. Honestly people, it just seems a bit strange. If ol’ girl and I knew each other – say we attended the same university or was in a six-degree of separation friendship circle, it would seem more um, reasonable?

I’m not calling my ex, a cheater; just questioning his motives for wanting to “continue/develop” a friendship. Holler with your thoughts or if you’ve ever been in this situation. He’s not even a platonic friend trying to cupcake!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

P.S. I completely tormented myself by refusing to text or IM this weekend. Discovered the issue is with IM - sending messages for more than 15 mins consistently is just plain nonsense. A friend did spend 22 minutes IMing a super long story. Me thinks this friend should try this experiment.

The Recap: The damn Olympics! Usain Bolt of Jamaica in T&F, Tyson Gay who didn’t qualify but has the best butt EVER and Michael Phelps of the USA in swimming. Honorable mention for unintentional comedy goes to Richard Thompson of Trinidad who took the silver in T&F. Did anyone see that man rolling around on the ground? The only thing left for him to do was to run around naked or find a couch to jump on ala Tom Cruise. One more – Walter Dix of the USA took the bronze in T&F but did anyone notice he wore hater blockers akin Creepa on MTV’s From G’s to Gents? See comparison pictures above.

On Tap: Two words: Beres Hammond. Any takers? Will be there with solo if I must!

ADDICTED TO TECHNOLOGY

2008-08-15T13:11:00.004-04:00

For those who don’t know, I am married, though I neglect to wear a wedding band. Instead, I have something better called a blackberry. Sleeps in the same bed, goes on vibrate and can call when running late (unlike some men).

The story: I met this really attractive man (he was Haitian…LOL). I’m terrible at returning phone calls but this dude was fairly persistent. Instead of calling him, I would send long text messages. After a few weeks we drifted off and in retrospect, I realize it was a bit difficult communicating with me via text only. I liked him but couldn’t find the time to talk but sending messages was a way to let him know I was thinking about him.

Now, clearly this can be the demise of a relationship. Text, IM and email should be a suppliment to in-person and phone conversations; not the primary method of communications. And yet, these days I still text, email, IM – because I can “chat” with 2 people via text, respond to multiple emails and “chat” with another 5 people via IM all having my undivided attention.

I have friends that steadily communicate with me via IM for LONG “conversations”. I realized this was a problem when I found myself 1 ½ hours later still IM-ing a friend (actually, it’s 2 of them) when we could have accomplished the same amount of conversation by phone in a third of the time. So in comes epiphany – not only am I wasting time, I’m losing real communication. LOL is not a good substitute for a person’s hearty laugh. The sad face emo-con doesn’t express the pout in my voice.

In an attempt to communicate better and challenge myself in a major way, I will call folks, even for a quick question. Yes siree, Betsy will not send any text messages or IMs this weekend…all weekend long. Already, I can’t wait for 12:01 am Monday. Now, I’ll read messages but no typed response so if you need me, best call. Really, holler!

Update: It's been 2.5 hours and the IMs are coming in. It is taking Herculean like strength not to respond. My friends, you are taunting me terribly.

The recap: Nada

On Tap: Party with the s’ak passé posse tonight; Beres Hammond Monday night at Wingate Park. Yes, I’m pressing this one because it will be dope (and it’s the last concert in the series).

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

ANNOYING BILL COLLECTOR

2008-08-14T16:55:00.006-04:00

Telemarketers and collect agents have one of the worst jobs in the world (don’t pretend like you never had a phone call b/c of a “outstanding” payment).

This man called today for someone that has not had my phone number in years. Usually I have the patience to explain the situation away but dude really just caught me at an untimely moment and unfortunately his Indian azz - talking about his name is Jason Smith when I can straight up hear his accent - received the transference of my ire energy from someone else.

Sadly enough, the conversation went something like this:

Me: Hello!?!?

Man: Hello (all smiley and ish). May I speak with LaToya please regarding a personal business matter?

Me: Mista, you have the wrong number. (Yes, I said Mista)

Man: Is this 212.555.1234?

Me: Do you speak English?

Man: Yes

Me: Then you understood when I said you have the wrong number.

Man: I just want to confirm if the number is 212.55…

Me: STOP CALLING ME!!! Have a good day and good bye! Click the button as hard as I can.

I know dude was just trying to do his job. There is no excuse for being rude but grief, I was in a surly mood. I did manage to say ave a good day though ☺

Ah, need to practice patience but it sure was funny writing this post.

On tap: Scattergories, spades (someone pls teach me!) and sangrias at my place. Then, sleep. Beres Hammond at Wingate Park Monday.

The recap: So long ago…performances and parties.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

ATTENTION TO PLASTIC SHOES

2008-08-07T12:58:00.005-04:00

Recently Betsy ran into a blast from the past friend. I wasn’t overly concerned about my appearance but I’m looking at the brother wearing a polo style shirt, pinstripe dress pants from the $99.99 suit shop and the worst fashion offense possible – plastic rounded toe shoes. I could hardly listen to him I was so enthralled by his foot gear. What grown man in 2008 wears plastic shoes -especially in the summer when they can hurt your feet more? The only place that sold those were Thom McAn and their free standing stores went out of business several years ago!

After relating this story to a friend, she posed a very legitimate question – how does this brother expect to meet a professional woman walking around half-stepping? LOL. Think about it – where can a woman take him? A company dinner? If the room happens to fall silent his cheap shoes will start making that squeaky-straining sound alerting everyone to his “financial situation.”

The recap: way too busy to kick it these days (that changes tonight - see below)

On Tap: The Live Musical Tribute to PRINCE & STEVIE WONDER @ Marcus Garvey Park  WHEN: Thursday, August 7, 2008  TIME: 6:30pm - 9:00pm  WHERE: Marcus Garvey Park Madison Avenue and East 120th to East 124th streets Harlem !  Contact: (212) 645-4011  The Eclectic Ride Presents A Live Muscial Tribute to the Originators  Stevie Wonder & Prince. For one night only, Eclectic Ride is leaving  downtown and coming uptown to Harlem’s Marcus Garvey Park . Bringing a  reputation for ultimate musical exploration, Eclectic Ride will  salute two of music’s greatest artists: Stevie Wonder and Prince.  Join “ER” for a night of true inspiration as hosts, Forrest  Renaissance and friends illuminate Marcus Garvey Park with a  brilliant array of special guest musicians, vocalists, and dancers  who will honor the work of these masters.  DJ EVIL DEE spinning the classiquest of classics!!!!  some of the confirmed artists include: Maiysha Alia Marie Shaliek Rivers Chanj TL Cross Kimberly Nichole Raye 6  and some VERY SPECIAL GUESTS!  plus.. Nate Jones on Bass Sharief in Burgundy on Guitar Leron Thomas on Trumpet 

AND

Garden Seeker Productions presents, Bi-Polar Thursday @Deity

Ali Shaheed Muhammad (A Tribe Called Quest & Lucy Pearl) spins every Thursday night
additional music by dj UncleMike

Hosted by Martini Cocoa
10pm-4am
Cover $5 b4 12 & $10 after

"breaking the rules : sublime beats: ridiculous energy : you know how we do"

Deity
368 Atlantic Ave(Hoyt and Bond) Brooklyn, NY 11217
718.222.DNYC(3692)

A, C, & G train to Hoyt & Schermerhorn
2, 3, 4, 5, B, Q to Atlantic Ave : D, M, N, R to Pacific St.

AND - SATURDAY

Saturday August 9, 2008

ROCK THE BLOCK!
A One Day Art Convergence in Brooklyn

Being held in 3 different locations, within the same block(s) radius.

1. Frank White- 936 Atlantic Ave
2. Yume - 925 Bergen St
3. Not Just Vintage - Bedford Ave

Live DJs - DJ Spinna, DJ Scratch, DJ GoldFinger & More…
With A Special *B.I.G. Pimpin': Jay Z & Biggie Tribute by DJ Scratch*

Live Artists / Spoken Word / Voter Registration Drive / Fashion Shows /Food-Drinks & more…

ALL DAY EVENT 12pm-8pm

*** ROCK THE BLOCK ~ Bringing Awareness To The Emerging Artist
Renaissance That Is In FULL FORCE In BK!

AN EVENT TONIGHT - ERYKAH BADU CONCERT

2008-08-04T12:24:00.001-04:00

BUSY BUSY BUSY!

POST TO COME LATER BUT...

On tap: Errykah Badu is doing a free concert at Wingate Park, Brooklyn tonight. 7:30 pm. More info at http://www.brooklynconcerts.com/mlk.html

THE PLATONIC FRIEND

2008-07-30T19:35:00.005-04:00

Can men and women legitimately be platonic friends?

Recently, I found myself hanging out consistently with a male friend. We were so uber-cool that he was like Betsy’s male-BFF (JM – you’re too far to claim the title). Things were going well; we were all over the place having dinner, checking out concerts and partying together. Then came the push-up; the hugging me a little longer and tighter than necessary, the shoulder rubs and the best one yet, the cock block – invading my personal space when another man was present..or giving me the "eye". Another friend calls it cup-caking. Lol

Men who try the back door policy – hang around until an opportunity to be more than a friend presents itself – can complicate my boundary-filled life. I pride myself on maintaining strictly platonic relationships with men. I’m that chick that’s totally fine with a male friend staying at my house during vacation and vice versa. Stop by for dinner, grab a plate and make yourself comfortable…just know there’s no ESPN watching. If we’re partying together, we can dub or break dance but at the end of the night, you’re going home to your wife or girlfriend hot, sweaty and faithful.

When my almost male BFF tried to push up, I had to shut the brother down. He’s attractive and cool but I can’t imagine myself running home to him every night…or any night for that matter. We can run around the city to “hang” and “chill” but booing up is not an option.

So what did he do? Stop talking to me! What kind of trifling thing is that? To be fair, he didn’t say he’s not speaking to me; he just hasn’t called in a bit and we used to speak everyday. I understand he’s a tad miffed but boundaries have to be respected. Why jeopardize a good friendship for a potential mediocre mate? Outside of our friendship, he would never come up on my radar. Ever.

I thought I was doing him a favor by refuting his advances. I have a friend that would definitely be a better match for him. Betsy is too much woman for him to handle. Ask my exes. LOL.

Off to dinner…solo…at Habana. LOL.

The recap: on lock this week with work

On tap: see previous statement

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

THE BLACK GUMS

2008-07-28T18:15:00.002-04:00

Recently, Betsy has been feeling the heat from some folks! A mention here and there of her encounters with other Hatians - friends excluded - and everyone is giving Besty the riot act and surely planning a coup! One person lectured Betsy about the references then laughed at the Trinidadian statement in the next breath. Shame on you! You’re lucky I like you…still on for dinner? ☺ Si, pour le rest de mois, non plus de références a mes peuple d'Haiti. Désolé si mon francais est un petit agite mais t’adore moi en cas! Vive le sak passé posse!

The story: Ran into an acquaintance and as the brother was talking, all I could wonder was why his gums were so dark. I mean, some people have pink gums; some have tan gums but his joint was BLACK, BLACK, BLACK! Black is beautiful but gums? Oh gosh! And to top it off, his teeth, while white, were sharp. Like, if this brother tried to playfully bite his wife’s neck, he would tap her jugular.

Separately, PLEASE read this blog about Dinty Moore soup - http://twotoomany.blogspot.com/. The author is insane!

The recap: Nada…but Betsy’s back on the scene this week.

On tap: Private fashion show at Soho Grand…any takers?

Lata lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

THE ROACHY RESTAURANT

2008-07-25T12:50:00.000-04:00

Before I start the story let me sidebar for a moment. I’m stepping up my Ebonics game by watching the Jamie Foxx produced trash show, From G’s to Gents. That joint is HILARIOUS - 12 dudes competing for $100K under the premise that they can leave the 'G' behind and become cricket-playing gentleman with the guidance of Fonzworth Bentley.

My favorite phrase to date is, “He speaks the wellist.” Is that akin to illest or a reference that the next ‘G’ speaks better/more like standard English than other show participants? If you’re watching, please holler!! Thinking about a mid-season party already…my place with mad ‘yak (that’s cognac I discovered).

The story: Peep this..lol. I’m starving and visit a local restaurant. As I wait for my order, I spy a super-sized can of Raid Roach spray. I mean, you can’t miss the Trinidadian-colored can (no malice intended to the red, black and white!!) sitting right under the counter near the drinking glasses – the same water glasses the waiter grabs for each patron as soon as they sit down. Immediately, I feel nauseous but I’m so hungry I would eat sand cookies made in Haiti (really, people are starving out there and eating cookies made of sand and oil…baked right in the sun!)

I didn’t know what to do – cancel the order and find another restaurant or take my chances that a roach didn’t get near the ingredients for my meal. I was so hungry, I couldn’t think. I’m mortified to say that I waited for the order. Pulled up a chair and avoided eye contact with the Raid can. Once I got the food home, I looked at it for a bit…checking for signs of a chopped up roach but didn’t see any. Can’t say I’ll be dining at that place again but for what it’s worth, that meal was good! I likened it to buying sandwiches from bodegas – folks are ordering the works when there’s flies attached to one of those catch-a-fly-with tape things hanging from the ceiling. Now, that’s too much for my tastebuds!

The recap: Watched Black in America and read a lot this week.

On tap: House party for a photographer colleague tonight. May swing by…holler if you’re interested.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

**Also**
5TH AVENUE PRODUCTIONS DEBUTS SECRET SOCIETY STAGE PLAY ARTS BANK THEATRE FRIDAY - SUNDAY

Fifth Avenue Productions in collaboration with Essence Bestselling Author Miasha will debut the theatrical adaptation of Miasha's novel Secret Society at the Arts Bank Theatre at 601 S. Broad Street in Philadelphia starting at 8pm.

Secret Society, the stage play introduces theatre goers to Celess and Tina, two hustling gold diggers whose fast-paced lifestyle came to a sudden halt when their shady past caught up with them. When the guys who are dating Celess and Tina learn that these girls are men- the dangerous game leads to tragedy.

Friday July 25, 2008 @ 8pm Press Preview
Saturday July 26, 2008 @ 4pm Matinee
Saturday July 26, 2008 @ 8pm Red Carpet/VIP night- SOLD OUT!
Sunday July 27, 2008 @4pm Final Show

For more information visit www.myspace.com/secretsocietystageplay and www.miasha.com. Tickets may also be purchased at The Arts Bank Theatre Box Office on the night of each performance, 800-616-ARTS.

Media/VIP guest inquiries contact: Dawn Michelle, 646-872-6678; dawnmichelle.pr@gmail.com

This weeks press coverage:
http://www.centerstagemag.com/kamah_scott_miasha_interview.htm
METRO Philadelphia, Philadelphia Daily News, Philadelphia Sunday Sun, 100.3 The Beat

THE SOUL MATE - DOES THIS PERSON EXIST

2008-07-21T12:46:00.000-04:00

Today, I depart from the normal musings/comedy of life to pose this question – do you believe in soul mates? No, this is not about religion or being an evangelist so there’s no need to hang up the phone immediately, shake your fist with fury or stop reading. Just a passage from a memoir I came across and thought to share and please feel free to comment as well –esp the folks married or boo-ed up.

“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it. Your problem is, you just can’t let this one go. It’s over Groceries. David’s purpose was to shake you up, drive you out of that marriage that you needed to leave, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master and beat it.”

The end was an analogy about getting stuck in the same wanting place even when the relationship is over, thus making your life miserable. Hope anyone that has felt that way is happy today. I know I am. ☺

The recap: Ditched NYC for most of the weekend. Shout out to E for participating in an adventure….

On tap this week: Nada. Someone send me some event info yo!!! Is there an event drought??

Lata lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

THE HAIR IS SO NAPPY IT'S KNOTTY

2008-07-14T19:09:00.000-04:00

Does nappy hair still exist? Think about it…when was the last time you saw someone with “extremely tight curls”? Nappy hair is the kind that could be coiled around dental floss, not your regular pencil curling iron.

Back in the day, the Hatian kids used to catch wreck at my high school. Make no mistake, some of my dear friends are Hatian (this part doesn’t apply to you people) but you know, some folks’ hair texture is just as illegal as coming to the U.S. on a boat as a stowaway. LOL. Even Africans folks are coming to the states with perms already…SMH…

Brothers nowadays try to disguise hair texture by rocking a baldy. One day, I met up with a male friend who again, always rocked a baldy. Let me tell you this brother’s chest hair was so nappy and peeking out of his open shirt that I wanted to vomit. It looked like his chest was blasted with black lint balls! Really!?!? He could have had the decency to wear a less revealing top (think turtlenecks and crewnecks) or shave it off…and anywhere else that looked like that! Goodness!

Shout out to the person that this post :-)

The recap: Prospect Park picnic with 1,500 folks. Brothers standing in the same spot 4 – 8 pm cradling a beer and nodding their head to every song. There may have been more men than woman…imagine that…and none of them thought to bring a football and do something. Breezed in, chatted with a few folks and left. Of course, the pseudo‘after party’ was at Habana. My peoples said it was still going strong until 12:45 a.m. this morning. Hope someone got some digits after all that hanging out. ☺ Shout out to everyone I ran into...you know who you are.

On tap this week: NY Philharmonic in Prospect Park tonight. Mid-summer bday soiree at Earth in NYC Friday. Holler if you want to rock. Harriet’s Alter Ego fashion show Saturday…details to follow.

Lata lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

TOES...BOOMERANG DID IT

2008-07-10T16:05:00.000-04:00

Boomerang was the worst thing to happen to women. Prior to this flick, women were quite fine getting occasional spa pedicures or just polishing their toes themselves but then ol' Eddie Murphy had to make a big deal out of bunions. Who cares what a woman’s feet looks like? What happened to personality?

The other day a man practically knocked me over to get my attention. He said I had pretty toes. Of course I do. Boomerang wasn't about me. ☺

But, there is a gross misconception between toes and feet. Corns, bunions and fat feet are typically unattractive but that doesn’t mean a woman’s toes can’t be pretty. It’s like saying, “Pretty face but ol’ girl is obese.” Or, “Scottie Pippin has a tight body but please put a brown bag over that man’s head.”

I saw a woman recently wearing fancy sandals (at the Laundromat no less). Her toes were gleaming with brightly colored nail polish but upon closer inspection, her fourth toe was practically sitting on top of the pinky one. And it was like 1/3 the size of the pinky toe. Clearly a deformity.

See, men (and some women) get caught up in toes/feet but you can only tell if a person’s feet is busted in the summer. In the winter, you have to wait until the right situation presents itself where the socks and shoes are off. And let's be clear - men have busted feet too. I have pictures to prove it!

Back to ol’ girl. My first thought was “Eww.” But then stopped. Again, who cares? It’s her husband’s job to suck her toes and massage them feet. Don’t front brothers… I know I LIKE that…LOL

Anyway, chill on the feet discrimination and remember that Iman said, “I’m beautiful from the ankle up.” Check the links below for pictures of Iman and Keri Hilson's feet.

On tap this week: MIH picnic in Prospect Park (main lawn close to Grand Army Plaza entrance) on Sunday. Free food, drink, music and even more Fort Greene-Clinton Hill I’m-so-unique-creative-and-cute-but-wearing-a-fedora-like-everyone-else-types. For after party details, refer to the ‘TIS LESS THAN SIX DEGREES post last month about Habana Outpost. The folks who didn’t get enough of ‘folks’ will again be chilling at Habana…after they just spent the day chilling at Prospect Park. Guess I’ll see you there… ☺

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

Iman’s feet
http://www.mediatakeout.com/5096/dayum_graphic_pics_of_the_bunions_on_imans_feet.html

http://concreteloop.com/?p=12690&cp=3

Keri Hilson’s feet
http://necolebitchie.com/2008/04/14/your-feet-mo-famous-than-you/

TITTIES...

2008-07-07T11:36:00.001-04:00

…I despise that word. Every time I hear it, in most cases coming out of a man’s mouth (LOL), it’s like the sound of nails being raked across a chalkboard for an hour. I was chatting with some folks recently and one man and one woman kept saying, “titties” over and over and over like it was the word of the day. At one point I thought I would vomit.

If a woman is past the age where she doesn’t want to flash everyone at Mardi Gras, they’re called breasts.

Women may have itty bitty or super size breasts, not titties. Titties are for cows.

BTW, an accept alternative, particularly if you’re caribbean is bubbies. LOL. LOL.

The recap: last week was a slow event week but July 4th wound up being surprisingly fly. Went to the movies, spent the afternoon at the park, changed clothes and went to a rooftop party to watch fireworks. Pity it was raining heavy…and I was in an all white dress. After, party at Amalia House…quite swank…shout out to LS, DH, WE. The remainder of the weekend, much too much hanging out (more than I care to describe but shout out to LS again and EP and crew for rocking hard). Staying in last night was definitely the move ☺. Hope your weekend was just as lovely…

On tap this week: Not a damn thing.

Lata Lovelies,
Betsy Ice

TINKER TOODLE FIXED THE WATER

2008-07-02T16:56:00.000-04:00

For a while, the water pressure in my bathroom sink has been terrible – a smidgeon above a trickle. Now that it’s summer, this has become a major issue so I called my landlord. This man fixes EVERYTHING. Pipe busted? No need to call a plumber…he came with a book bag full of tools and trinkets and tinkered with that pipe until it worked. There is something a little strange about a grown man with a book bag...strapped on one shoulder circa 1988.

No heat? No problem. Insert a key and start banging on it until it works.

Today, he went in the bathroom and twisted and turned knobs until the water flowed properly. To salute him and all the do-it-myself-cheaper-than-cheap landlords, I officially dub them Tinker Toodles.

On tap – properly running water. :-)

This week – Yo! Friday is 4th of July. Anyone down for a semi-impromptu picnic? We get to a Brooklyn park early (9 am folks to get a spot), everyone bring something (food, drinks, utensils, plates, cups, hammock, badminton, football, whatever) and chill for a few hours. Get in early, get our grill on and be out early enough to go eat again at someone else cookout – you know folks will call on the ‘spur’… Holla if you’re interested. To my traveling folks with big money yo, be safe and enjoy.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

'TIS LESS THAN SIX DEGREES

2008-06-30T11:01:00.000-04:00

Dating is an unknown person is nary impossible. Life used to be six degrees of separation but these days, given that some folks are married, "boo-ed up", homosexual, asexual or just plain married to their constant social-climbing high brow status, the possibilities for partnership with an ‘unknown person’ seems limited.

For example, I went on a date recently. The man that I went out with happens to be friends with a friend of this other dude I was with. Three degrees of separation. Him, her, him. On top of that, there are location barriers. Think about it…when was the last you heard a Brooklyn woman dating a Bronx man? Nary impossible. Is a matter of fact, who goes to the Bronx? No, ‘tis not a dis to my Bx people but really, what is there to do that would justify a two hour trek out there? Someone better be having a baby shower or a wedding!

In Brooklyn alone there are geographic complications. Folks who are near downtown tend to hang out in Fort Greene/Clinton Hill and guess who they meet? Them same dudes or chicks that frequent Habana Outpost. Newsflash - if you ain’t been picked up in the last three years by hanging out at Habana, you're probably not going to get picked up this year. Besides that, why are you doing the same thing every Wednesday evening, Saturday and Sunday afternoon anyway? Tell me – there’s no other place in Brooklyn to “enjoy the sun”? You know Prospect Park isn’t too far away…or any park….or just walk on the side of the street that has more sun. Leave Habana alone. The food is okay but really....every weekend? I’ll refrain from talking about the other “hot spots” – Moe’s and Night of the Cookers. Please…

Typically, dudes from Canarsie socialize in their area or head to nearby Flatlands. For the more adventurous types, the Brooklyn College vicinity aka Flatbush is an option and vice versa. Ditto for Bay Ridge...they're mating and boo-ing up in Sheepshead Bay. Can’t speak for East New York and Brownsville…no idea what’s going on out there.

The degrees of separation...all I'm saying is if your in Brooklyn, single and wanting to be in a relationship, chances are the brother or sister is already close to your inner circle. May have to go back to my long distance relationships…

The recap: panel discussion with Soledad O’Brien and Dr. Cornell West; book release party; Bleu Magazine party (shout out to TC); Grand 275 for the final horray (shout out to QB)…they closed on Friday.

On tap this week: Vibe party tonight. If you know of anything else, holler!

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

'TIS NOT ALWAYS EASY FOR A MAN

2008-06-23T14:15:00.000-04:00

…when his wife looks sexy in a fancy bra that becomes a distracting contraption.

Nearly every woman has a collection of basics but in the “good drawer” lies the fancy and bras and panties. Honestly, I sometimes believe men despise this drawer. It’s not that they don’t appreciate the “I am Ms. Sexy Back” in the La Perla, Les Copains and Eres but when it’s time to get down and dirty, brothers expect to find the two bra closures in the back. The sporty front closure racerbacks can throw him off. A woman can tell that you’re not caressing her back anymore but trying to figure where the closure is.

Every so often a woman will put on a bustier with garters and some more connecting pieces that could be straight out of a Frederick’s boutique. Brother is looking at her salivating and thinking all kinds of wicked tings…until he has to unhook 58 closures! Depending on the woman, she’s either as frustrated with the blasted bustier+ or laughing at how frustrated her man is. I know some sisters that would definitely cosign the latter.

More tips on how to irk a brother in my forthcoming memoir. LOL. Just kidding…I think.

So, my life last week…lunches and brunches…dinner with a friend who loves my teeny bopper lipgloss (yeah, haters!), another road trip to LI for the Omega party (shout out to MT and EL) and MoCaDa’s opening which was all the way dope (shout out to DM). Didn’t make Harriet’s for a reception but that’s usually a winner.

On tap this week…NV Magazine party at Barna. Let me know if you’re down to rock. I rsvp’d +2 but can easily change it to +10. It’s the takeover. Thanks for the idea MT…(who will also be organizing folks for an upcoming yacht party ☺ when MT decides on the date, the details will be here). Oh holla! Book release, magazine party going down as well. Cookout over the weekend in Brooklyn. Any takers? Additional info on events for this week below.

You already know…’tis the season of fun!

BTW, check the posts from the last msg...

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

**MORE EVENTS***
TUESDAY - Please come tomorrow Tuesday, June 24th for a special screening followed by performances...

7-11pm @Sputnik- downstairs

262 Taaffe Pl. Brooklyn, NY 11205 (just off Dekalb)*directions below

"Beyond Blue and Gray: Portraits of Palestinian Creativity Under Occupation" is Jessica Habie's newest film project- her last
documentary, "Mandatory Service" won at this year's Tribeca Film Festival

Following the screening will be an XSpirtMental Session with Mental Notes featuring Spiritchild, Remi, and other poetic performances

Co-sponsored by Eyes Infinite Films, Fort Greene Film Society, Movement in Motion, Fort Greene Peace and the Brooklyn For Peace Israel-Palestine committee**

**THURSDAY NIGHT**
A few brothers are hosting an open discussion - why women talk too much and why men dont talk enough. its a Q&A type ting and MC Corey will be DJing. thurs eve from 7pm - 12 am at Ripple (769 washington ave btwn sterling & st johns). MC Corey will also be DJing at the same spot friday nite.

TWAS A STRANGE CONVERSATION

2008-06-18T16:54:00.002-04:00

Amazing what happens when I arrive early. I am able to select which seat I want at the restaurant, positioning myself with the best 'vantage' point. I'm not drenched in my own perspiration from power walking and more importantly, I'm relaxed.

This is the 3rd time in the last two weeks I've arrived early to a meeting. I'm turning over a new leave, friends.

Anyway, the story. My female friend was having an amicable conversation with a man. You know, the "how have you been?, what's new? etc." kind of thing. In the middle of the conversation - without being asked - dude says, "I'm single and heterosexual." LOL. Are you kidding me? He just blurted out that tidbit of info! She wasn't even trying to holler at him! That's like a woman complimenting another woman (of course, completely acceptable) by saying, "Cute outfit," and instead of saying, "Thank you," she responds with "I'm a lesbian." Um, what in the world!?!? Didn't nobody ask you all of that. My gosh!

Perhaps this dude had a previous conversation and was so caught up in the rapture, he forgot a new conversation (and person) was at hand. Or, had this brother's sexuality been in question before so he felt the need to proclaim it out the gate to anyone who would listen? Or better - did he feel compelled to separate himself from any homosexual that may have been present by announcing his sexual orientation freely? Just musings...

Really though, women - when was the last time you had a casual conversation with a man and proclaimed (as he talked about art history), "I'm strictly dickly? Men - when was the last time you heard a woman announce that? LOL

Let me know your thoughts on the situation. My friend certainly wasn't interested in his sexual orientation but it sure was a funny story.

Lata Lovelies,

-Betsy Ice

TWAS A GOOD WEEK INDEED

2008-06-16T14:47:00.000-04:00

It was only fitting to call this blog the one thing that really started my summer of fun...my car. Betsy Ice introduced me to joy riding and the adventures of well, summer. Details of that summer to come...:-)

On to 2008.

Last week...twas a doozy!!! Essence/Toyota event was tight and shout out to TC and DH for being with me that night. Thanks for handling the situation. No friends, none of us needed to remove our stilettos or earrings...we're too pretty to scrap. :-) Anyhoo, the event was very cool...a room filled with upwardly mobile, mature, surprisingly unpretentious 'folk' coupled with free drinks and hors d'ourves. Lovely. Oh yes, Keisha Cole sang but I wasn't listening...lol

Also, went to a Prospect Park Gala which kicked off their summer celebration. Isaac Hayes rocks.

Took off to DC for an overnight trip (shout out to DH again for being a trooper!) only to return to rain. One of the highlights of that trip was an invite to Martha's Vineyard. Wonder if Larenz Tate will be there...I can't get Inkwell out of my mind.

Returned to rain from DC which became a surefire way to miss the Stevie Wonder tribute party. Actually, if you did attend, drop me a line.

This week is shaping up rather slow but will keep you posted on other events. Friday is the Omega 80's party in Long Island. Anyone down to rock? I have an affinity for purple and gold...

BTW, anyone know of any good boat ride? Just bought a pair of fresh linen pants. Whey mi West Indian people dey?

Lata Lovelies...

-Betsy Ice