Michael Vick

I've been told that I can be a little pessimistic. I see the glass half empty, look at the negative side of things, don't see the silver lining, etc. The world is changing into a more hopeful, opportunity-filled, place (or so I've been told). Forgive and forget, live and let live, try to see the potential for good Got damnit Arnetta you heartless biotch!

Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. I don't know if I'm a pessimist, so much as a cynic and a realist, which yeah resembles pessimism. But I assure you, tis NOT. Case in point, Michael Vick.

Now lemme preface this rant to say that I am a HUGE dog lover. I absolutely love my dog as if he's my real life baby. It's embarrassing how much one can love a creature that drinks out of the toilet and licks it's own genitals. I scoop up his crap with my hands every single day (that I don't get my beau to do it) and walk the big lug (he's 100 lbs) rain or shine, day in and day out. Not because I just love walking around the block several times a day, or because I'm a part of some neighborhood watch program, but because that's what floats the little guy's boat. He's graduated from puppy school (at PetSmart) and even gone through some special $2,000.00 program that has trained him to control his hyperactive butt when we go out for walks. He has a dog-sitter and a grandmom that spoils him rotten when I'm out of town. I mean this dog can't even sneeze without being taken straight to the vet. I say all of this to say, I LOVE dogs! (Actually, I'm a friend to all animals big and small).

Just insert me right there next to the bunny rabbits, swashling my feet around in the water . . . yes, swashling. I'll be the one gobbled up by the wolf, after he gets done with the poor deer that he's eyeing (or is he plotting on the egret?).

Anyway, so you would assume that as a current citizen of Philadelphia and a hardcore dog lover, the last thing I'd want to see is Michael Vick picked up by my city's team, the Philadelphia Eagles. To the contrary. I'm kinda glad they picked him up. I consider it an opportunity for him to use his fame for good. Why have the man in jail rotting for the rest of his life, when he could be a big force in turning around the dog fighting problem? Being that he is famous, and obviously can't commit the crime again, why not allow him to use his money and infamy to draw attention to dog fighting? It's a natural progression and from what I've heard, he's already started.

Now some people argue that his being allowed to play for the Eagles is comparable to allowing a serial killer to get off the hook. I don't agree with that because although dog-fighting is a horrible blood sport, it is still considered a sport for those who engage in it. Sport involves competition, adrenaline, action, large crowds and money. Serial killing on the other hand, is pretty much a lone hobby. It might involve some adrenaline and maybe even a little action, but as far as competition and money . . . not so much. And usually when someone is a serial killer, they got a lot of other things going on, like being mentally insane. So while Vick's dealings with dog fighting were extremely sick and hard to swallow, it's not too far-fetched when we consider the dark side of mankind's history especially in the name of sports. Lions vs. Christians anyone? Certainly doesn't make it right, but let's be real about it (realist, remember?)

In conclusion, he (and his friends and relatives) did a lot of horrible things to those dogs and it's great that he was punished and served a jail sentence and lost his football contract, his assets and the respect of many of his fans BUT I don't believe in punishment without end (one of the main reasons that I don't believe in hell). We're never going to be able to read the man's heart, so why not just leave that to God? The sad truth is he's not the first person to fight dogs and he's certainly not the last, but he did shine a spotlight on the sport in a big way this past year so I say we use that as an opportunity to take down the rest of those dog fighting mofos!

Tonight Michael Vick plays his first game with the Eagles and honestly I couldn't care less because I don't watch a lot of football. My boyfriend is trying to fix this problem, maybe we'll do a fantasy football team, lol.

But here's to second chances. I'll be praying that Vick's heart has really been turned around. Go Eagles! How's that for pessimism?

Celebrity Ramblings - Definition of Diva

So, I heard that VH1 Divas will be returning this year featuring singers Adele, Miley Cyrus, Kelly Clarkson and Leona Lewis. Sorry, but when that announcement was made I couldn't help but hear Waa Waa Waaaaa. I'm not usually a hater, but I guess the definition of diva that I grew up believing looked, sounded and felt nothing like these girls. Actually they're like the anti-diva to me. Especially when it comes to sangin. Now before VH1's Divas came out, the definition of that word was not really used outside of the Black community. And when it was used, it was used to describe a mature woman who "sang" with a lot of soul and usually had the ability to move people to strong emotion, and of course had a little spice in the "attitude" department. (But nothing unreasonable, like throwing phones at people a la Naomi Campbell). More like a grown woman "doing it on one's own terms" type of attitude.

Today the definition of diva has definitely jumped the shark, but I still believe in the old definition. So here are some women that I've always secretly thought of as (true) divas.

Aretha Franklin - Queen of "Soul" and attitude for days folks, attitude for days! Oh, and that tacky-ass hat she wore for Obama's Inauguration (how very diva of her). I had to put her first.

Gladys Knight - A beautiful woman with a bunch of dudes for back-up singers . . . Nuff said!

Whitney Houston - The only human being to actually sang (SANG damnit!) the National Anthem. I don't care how much crack that woman's smoked, she's the only person who ever made me enjoy listening to that ghastly song. (And yes, I said it . . . it's a GHASTLY song!) Plus she's just fabulous.

Patti LaBelle - I have had the pleasure of meeting this woman on several occasions and she is the biggest drama queen EVERRR!!! But that voice, good Gawd, that woman's voice!

Tina Turner - Drama is often the sobering reality of being a "true" diva (by my definition). It adds soul to the songs.

Diana Ross - After all these years, she's earned it. I always imagine a diva as someone that thinks they're everybody's Mama, Aunt, Big Sister (etc.) but doesn't ever want to age.

Umm, that's all I got for now. I'm sure I'm missing a few (Chaka Khan), but when I think of VH1's Divas I always imagine how amazing it would be to see all of these TRUE divas on the same stage together. I don't imagine that dream will be realized anytime soon.

But whatevs.

Not That There's Anything Wrong With That

So I love gay men, does that make me gay? Turns out that most of the guys I've been attracted to in life turn out to either be gay or have some very questionable tendencies.

Por ejemplo I was on Crackbook the other day, typing away as if I didn't have a crap-load of things I needed to do. I came across an old friend, the guy who graced me with my first real kiss almost 10 years ago. The most heart racing, stomach fluttering, yummy bestest first kiss everrrr!!! Now when I met this cat he was tall, dark and geeky. We were teenagers (I was 16, he was 17) so he had the bumpy face thing going on, a bad haircut, crooked teeth . . . you know, the usual. I'd just hit the "growing into my looks" mark, so things were looking up for me but I was still a major dork so naturally we gravitated toward each other. He was nice, but strange because we would argue about weird stuff and he would always stand me up for dates or show up at my house at weird times . . . but all that is beside the point. The point is, a couple years later the boy grew into his looks. Got a good haircut, bulked up a little, complexion evened out and uh, he was looking right on many levels. We kept in touch via email, instant messaging and all that stuff. Occasionally I would check him out on BlackPlanet (back when that was cool, lol) and he would a have a bunch of photos of himself staring at the camera with an intense look. You know, the bad lighting, standing in the middle of the living room, get your little brother or sister to take the picture for you so it's always taken from a lower perspective, lol.

I was impressed, but it grew increasingly obvious through the pictures and stuff he would write on his page that he was really smelling himself lately and was developing a bit of an ego. Fast forward to a couple months ago, I found him on Myspace (right before Facebook blew up, lol) and I'm looking at a bunch of air brushed photos of him. Looking good, of course, but it was well beyond the ghetto-fabulous "standing in the middle of my bedroom taking a picture of myself with my shirt off" photos. These photos were really professional. And there were tons of them. Him standing by the pool, standing on the beach, standing in front of a white back drop, laying on a silk sheet. Now this is where the gay radar should have kicked in, very slightly. I mean, the man looked good, but he was looking a little too good. His eyebrows were arched perfectly, his shirts (if he wore any) were always a little extra tight (unless of course they were open, exposing his bare chest). He must be coming up in the world, I thought to myself. He looks really good but I wonder why he's always single. Oh well! . . . lalalalala (I sang, while picking daisies and skipping through the fields.)

Okay skip to yesterday I'm on Crackbook and my old friend posts up a picture of his new roommate. His roommate is a very good looking guy and of course me being the pervert goofball that I am, I post a swoony comment; which leads to our joking around and having some dialogue. So I decided to check out his pictures, expecting to see as usual a bunch of pictures of him with his shirt off at the beach or some nonsense. Well, I came across some tangy-ness that I am still coming to terms with. A bunch of the pictures I saw showcased him and his very good-looking guy friends. All with arched eyebrows and vneck shirts or open shirts staring intensely into the camera. Some of the guys looked flamboyantly gay and the rest well, they just looked gay by association. There were airbrushed "to death" pictures of my friend wearing light colored contact lenses. Pictures of him smiling wildly in a pack full of his friends with captions about them being "good looking" or "an exclusive bunch." Um, okay, well maybe it's like that in LA I reasoned. Then the picture that ended all doubt. Him with a group of his friends, and he's kissing the back of another dude's head. Me being the person I am, I had to ask my current *ahem* flame. (Yes, I've been seeing someone. :-)

Flame: Yes, dude is gay.
Me: Well maybe the camera is at an angle where it looks like he's kissing . . .
Flame: No! He's gay. Now turn off the computer so we can go get something to eat.

Damn! lol

Now there's nothing wrong with my old friend being gay, if he is (look, I'm still questioning it LOL). I guess my thing is, (if he is gay) he will cement my pattern of picking guys who are either in the closet or very well near it. The first guy I was really into turned out to be bisexual. But he wasn't the worst.

The worst was this guy I once dated who desperately defended gay people (without provocation), would talk about how secure he is with his sexuality (again without provocation) and would compliment other men a little too much for my tastes, and he would also brag about how some dude at his job had a crush on him . . . even going to the man's home to play cards with the guy. Now I didn't have a problem with all of these things at that time (because I was a moron and put up with anything), but today, I don't think I could put up with that kind of foolishness. I mean, I can understand a guy being secure with his sexuality, but I would not put up with a boyfriend being antagonizingly defensive while complimenting some other dude more than he complimented me. Or who was deathly afraid of "more masculine" men. Which (for both of these things) was the case, big time with my ex. It was sad. The Justin Timberlake concerts, the man-crushes, the constantly putting down women yet constantly seeking to impress men (sigh!).

So I used to date this guy who was "a regular." You know a guy that you go out with from time to time during a relationship dry season. Now I knew that he kind of wanted something serious with me, but I couldn't imagine letting that happen. I mean he was extremely good looking and very smart, but he had 2 gay roommates and waaaay too many gay male friends. And they were all in love with him (which there's nothing wrong with) but I still think there must have been something he was getting out of that arrangement. Also, he had some very feminine qualities. Par exemple, when we went out I always drove even when it was his car. When we ate out, I always ended up paying for something or other. He always took forever to order at restaurants and he only ordered the girliest of drinks. He never gave me his jacket when I was cold (one time even telling me that's why he brought his heavy jacket because he knew it would be cold in the theater-and proceeded to bundle himself up). He even had some feminine mannerisms at times. Yada, yada, yada, the list goes on. And I'm aware that none of these things have anything to do with one's sexuality, but to me, these are vital "Man Code" laws that were being broken. Laws that any red-blooded heterosexual man would die rather than break. In other words, there was absolutely nothing about this man (outside of his looks) that yelled out "Masculine!" and in my old age, I'm starting to feel that I need that in my life.

I need a guy that has body hair, and no sense of style. A guy that loves women, has guy friends and doesn't have his finger on the pulse of the gay community. A guy that feels awkward being hit on by a gay man, not flattered to the point of making the guy his roommate. A guy that knows how to change a flat tire and that doesn't mind being tackled by his wannabe tomboy girlfriend (who thinks she's strong). A guy that can hold a conversation with my father (the ultimate man's man) and who watches sports and doesn't refer to the players as his man crushes. A guy that loves me and caters to me in that special way that only a man can. You know, giving me his jacket while he freezes to death and pretends he's fine. Or would rather drive than not. Or who is not afraid to give some other dude the eye for checking out "his" girl. Is that too much to ask? I guess it is if you want a clean cut, well dressed man these days. Which is what I used to go for, but now . . . not so much. Bring on the holy socks and the worn out sneakers baby!

(Okay Black woman's perspective) Personally, I think this all boils down to the lack of father figures in the Black community. Not enough guys out there know how to be men because they have never been shown. So a lot of this behavior has nothing to do with being gay (because there's a lot of chivalrous gay men out there) but it really just boils down to pure unadulterated ignorance. (But that's for another blog).

Now of course we all know that being macho doesn't exactly make you straight, but I guess what I'm saying is that my "gray area" is gradually disappearing when it comes to who I date. I used to be exactly like Cher on Clueless when it came to guys. And everybody would see the feminine qualities in my boyfriends except me. But things I used to be open-minded about, I can no longer tolerate. You gotta admit, though, I put up quite a fight back in the day. So while I'm definitely still attracted to gay men (yes, I admit it, I really love me some gay men), that doesn't mean I want to date them. I'm just wondering why it seems they want to date me.

And for the record, the guy I'm currently seeing knows the Man Codes and obeys them accordingly. It's refreshing to say the least. ;-) Maybe my next post will be a list of the Man Codes.

I Need to Lose Some Weight

So I went to Dorney Park a couple days ago with some folks from my church. The girl I hung with is a little on the chunky side. So while we were at Wild Water Kingdom she started complaining about her thighs rubbing together. Next thing you know I am feeling a little friction myself. Meanwhile, we're watching a bunch of PYT's (Pretty Young Things for the slow people) walking around in the smallest of bathing suits. And these girls were BONEY. Now don't get me wrong, there were some chunkies walking around too, but I didn't notice them. I noticed the flat bellies and the thighs that you could see between (I know I sound like a perv). My mind quickly reverted back to better days. Days where I ran . . . in the heat . . . for hours on end . . . for fun!!! Track meets where I wore the skimpiest of running out-fits, and never had to worry about a jiggly belly or thigh burn. I can't believe those days are over.

By the end of the Dorney Park trip, my thighs were in so much pain because of the constant rubbing that when I got back to my place, I had to rub lotion on a swollen red rash that developed. And it BURNED like you wouldn't believe!!! All night, I slept with a pillow between my legs because my legs couldn't even touch each other. It was bad!!!

So the moral of this story is that I need to take my big thighs to the gym and bust out some squat thrusts or something. Because I am too much of a weakling to be chunky. It's just too much pain for me to bear. Just one day of my thighs rubbing together was too much. But the good thing is the new place I am moving to has a pretty nice gym.

So it'll all be better in the new place. (Rocks back and forth.) Yes, the new place will fix everything.