We Need A Resolution

I’m tired of arguin’ girl…

O_O

Oh, right… it’s time to start the post! Sowwy, got distracted there…

Exactly.

I really cannot believe that 2011 is only a few days away. Time is flying like Superman on Speed. I love this time of year because it allows me to reflect on the year as well as look forward to a fresh start in the upcoming year. You know who else loves this time of year? Fitness centers/gyms. Their membership rates are about to SPIKE. *as it drops again in two months*

Which brings me to my point. Resolutions. It is an age-old concept that is as cliché as a needle chillin’ in a damn haystack. And yet, here I go about to make a list of them. With no apologies. Ay dios mio!

Truth be told, I’ve never actually written/typed a tangible New Year’s Resolutions list. I’ve always embraced the concept, but only in my head. And I’m certainly of the belief that if you write (or type since it’s the future*) something down, it becomes more powerful in terms of manifestation. Annnnnd, that was my Oprah moment of the day. Anyhoot. I’ll probably have more in my official list, but for you guys, I’mma share five. Because that’s a nice number. Or something…

1. To Spice It Up. You know when you get to that point where your life has gotten sorta… routine? That’s where I’ve found myself. And, uh, I wanna get lost again. I mean, certain things are good to keep a routine for like taking regular showers/baths. But for others? Well, your life can become boring and boredom in Cheekietopia is illegal. I am committing a crime. So in 2011, I want to do a few things I never would’ve thought of doing before. Or even things I’ve always wanted to do but never took the chance. First on that list? Take a pole-dancing class. I’ve been wanting to do that for THEE LONGEST and I declare that two-aught-one-one will be the year I drop it like it’s sizzling via skrippah pole.**

2. To Explore. One thing I didn’t get to experience that much earlier in life was traveling. My family wasn’t the type to go to Disney World*** or road trips because I had a struggling and hardworking single mom and we just never really had the funds to do that. However, as I’ve gotten older and maintained more of a sense of independence and comfort with my finances, I’ve been eager to travel more and more. For ONE, I’ve never been out of the country. Which will change in 2011 as we’re planning an EPIC cruise to [insert some Caribbean Island-y place that has yet to be fully determined here] in honor of my niece’s high school graduation. (Lawdt, they grow up so fast! *sniff*) And I also have other smaller trips in the works, so 2011 will feature me being a travelin’ fool.

3. To Expose The Heart. No, my resolution doesn’t involve performing open heart surgery or anything, I’m talkin’ in more of a figurative sense. Meaning, opening my heart to love. It’s been closed effectively for a while now (details on the why to come sometime in the near future) and I’m starting to learn how to really let love in. It’s funny because I often lament my lack of it (aside from family/friends, of course), but just as those who practice the art of Feng Shui believe, I have to make room for it. And I believe that in every sense of the phrase.

4. To Honor My Body. No, not in THAT way, you naughty minx. I do that just fine, merci beaucoup. I’m talmbout in terms of taking care of my body. I’ve realized that I’ve been dedicating my time to everyone and everything else but myself. And sure, it’s normal to gain that extra weight around the holidays (unless no one in yo family can cook, including you) but I’ve been lax in truly taking care of my body for a while now and that ain’t cool in my book. I want to get back to exercising regularly as well as NOT overindulging in every sweet thang (the sugary variety, not the man-meat variety) I see. And I can take cues from numero uno up there and take a cool dance class to enhance the cardio in a more fun way. And I know I’mma bout to sound like an annoyingly chipper testimonial character on a fitness commercial, but I seriously feel better when I do these things. And feeling better is dopeness.

5. To Do The Write Thing. Last, but certainly not least. I need to get on a writing grind. Sure, I’m writing NOW, but blog writing is easier than the writing that I want to do as a career: screenwriting. Man, as much as I LOVE it, it is A JOB. In addition to the day job that gives me shelter, food, and handbags! There is a lot of hard work involved, but I would be lying if I said that typing “FADE OUT” at the end of a script doesn’t make it all worth it and more. Because, lawdhamercy, it does. And I want that feeling again… steadily. So, back to true and disciplined hard work I go!

2011, I’m ready fo’ yo ass.

Pinchers, assuming that you seriously believe in making them, what are some of your New Year’s resolutions? For those who think they are hogwash, got any concrete plans for the New Year? Care Bear Share.

 

Love ya like 2010 loved when rappers taught the world some obscure dance routine,

Cheekie

P.S. Remember, Pincheeees, no post this Friday. This is my last post of 2010. I’ll be back next Monday to kick off the new year! *end of 2010-edition pinch*

*Um, I’m STILL trippin’ over the fact that we don’t all have flying cars right about nah…
**Of COURSE I will blog about it. *crosses fangers that something foolish happens.*
***Somewhere I HAVEN’T been, which is a MAJOR fail for a Disney Stan such as myself. Working on that doe… I haven’t given up.

I Pinch On For My City: The Slang

 

Yeezy taught me, but Chi taught him.

Chicago. The Chi. Chi-town. Chi City. The ‘Go. My city answers to many names, but to me it’s simply home. Corny! Anyway. I was born and raised here so like any other “townie”, I have a love/hate relationship with it. Positive or negative, one thing for certain is that I have a lot to say about it. And I decided to share some of it with you. Let’s call it an indefinite, ongoing series. And how ’bout we start with slang…

Last week, I was having one of my epic GChatting sessions while at the plantation* and happened to use the word, “tall” in a slangified** manner. My girl, L Boogie, gave me a huge side-eye (this is, of course, in my mind as I couldn’t see her) and was all, “Um, ‘tall’ means ‘a lot’, right?”

Yes. “Tall” means “a lot.” *as an overly pressured National Spelling Bee contestant requests that I use it in a sentence.* “Tall” as in “They had tall books at that li-berry, yo!” -_-

That chat reminded me of the fascinating aspects of how we use language across the country, and even more so across the world. Specifically, how we use slang. For instance, “bad” can mean “good” in one culture, while “bad” just means “bad” in another.

So, since I love to share and provide knowledge (thus, I love sharing knowledge! O_O) I’m going to list a few terms that us Chicagoans (as well as other towns surrounding us) tend to use:

– Damn, you got treated! Treated. adj. Being verbally insulted in a highly embarrassing fashion. This reminds me of elementary school days. As everyone knows, kids are cruel — not “can be”, ARE — and a bulk of their pastimes consist of roasting their peers. At school, we’d have epic roast-fests. Just bust out and start talmbout folks. And it was all in a good fun. It never got malicious until someone talked about someone’s mama. Which, you just DON’T do. One kid would clown another and everyone else would be like, “TREATED!” Those were the days, Archie and Edith. I still use “treated” after an epic roasting to this day. It’s especially effective when you say it in a calm voice. Just… “treated.” But, speaking of school…

– I Went To Grammar School. Grammar School. n. The Hood equivalent to elementary school. I know I just called it “elementary school” up there, but that was so I wouldn’t have to explain myself then. Now’s the time. I usually say “elementary school” when talking to folks that aren’t from here, but in reglah life? I say “grammar school.” I have no idea what the origin is (any other Chi folks? if you do… help a nicca out) or even why we say it, we just do. All I remember is hearing someone else refer to it that way and accepting it. That’s how we learn thangs in the Chicago Public Schools system. #selfshotsfired

– Man, she bogus! Bogus. adj. When something/someone “ain’t right”, as in “that ain’t right.” The Plantation won’t let their employees out early on the day before the day before Christmas?*** Your teacher gives out homework on the first damn day of school? Some dude bumps into an old lady without saying “Excuse me” on a Sunday? All of that. Bogus as hell. “Bogus” is such a perfect term to describe something “wrong” when the word “wrong” just doesn’t cut it. “Bogus” adds a little kick to it. Know what’s also bogus? The fact that the Tea Party still exists.

– Pepsi/Coca-Cola/Bootleg Dollar Store Brand Carbonated Drink = Pop. Pop. n. A carbonated drink that has NO OTHER NAME TO DESCRIBE IT. So, I’ve saved the best for last. I cannot even count the number of times that I have gotten in the “pop vs soda vs cola” drank war on the internets, real life, and beyond. I find it hilarious because everyone is so loyal to their way of describing the bubbled drank. And anyone else’s way is wrong. Except those who are right, of course. And those rightful folks are the ones using “pop.” Know why? Because soda/cola is too proper. There’s nothing proper about a sugary drink that makes you belch (yeah, belch. babies burp.) on contact. Baddabing.

Pinchers, tis yo turn. What are some regional sayings ya’ll use that leave outsiders scratching their figurative heads?**** Do any of the above phrases/terms mirror ones you use outside of Chicagoland? As for my Chi Pinchers, please share some that I’ve (obviously) left out. Let’s all put on for our respective cities.

 

Love ya like Teena Marie (R.I.P.) loves to turn on our fire and desire,

Cheekie

P.S. It’s “pop.”

P.P.S. Nope, you’re wrong. Pop.

 

 

 

*If bossman finds out about this, I know where to find the snitch. *looks at you readers with a suspicious snarl*
**If I’m talmbout slang, of COURSE I can make up words. Hell, you should halfway expect it.
***This confusing sentence does NOT include an accidental repeat-phrase. Totally intentional.
****If it ain’t figurative then they either have dry scalp or lice. Hopefully, it is the former. I mean, neither are great, but ya know… lesser of two evils.

A Very Cheekie Christmas: Press Play

*CHEEKIE NOTE*: Remember, no Friday Foolery this week since I’m off work (or next week, either for the same reason, actually), but I promise to make it up with a great one to start off the new year. At least I hope so… *feels the pressure*

A very cheeky Christmas, indeed...

So, I began my 2010 Christmas-themed week with a general list of what makes Christmas official for me, but the truth is… nothing makes Christmas more official than toys! And sure, adults can have toys, too! They have entire stores dedicated to that. *winknudge*

There are specific toy-esque aspects of Christmas that will always stick out in my cloud of memories. I’m gonna be a dear and share a few with ya’ll. I’m already fidgeting in my seat in excitement to cut to the chase. *as I grab some of my nephew’s toys to act out an actual chase scene* Thus, without further ado…

Don’t make me pull the toys out, huh?! Don’t make me pull the toyyyyyysssss!

1. The Sneak. No Keak. Anyone who knows me knows that I love to be surprised. There is nothing that I love more (other than surprising someone ELSE) than someone truly pulling one over me. Because, the ish ain’t easy. It’s the reason for my squinty eyes. Only true weasels have beady eyes so I definitely look the part. One particular Christmas that showcased my sneakiness was a big one. I was about eight years old. Mama Cheekie went ALL out and bought me beaucoup Barbie accessories since I was a Barbie fiend (I was the type to create/act out little scenes with my dolls, not so much play dress up and/or do their hair. See? I was always a screenwriter!). I’m talkin’ boxes and boxes of Barbiephernelia. Anyway, I was living with my grandmother at the time so Mama decided to hide them in one of Grandma’s closets a couple days before Christmas. Um. FAIL. Kids IN GENERAL are sneaky as it is. Add the giddyness of Christmas and my squinty eyes and you have a surprise fail. I’m not sure why they did that (I probably wasn’t supposed to go “meddling” in this closet) but it just wasn’t the best place to hide something from someone as curious* as I. As soon as Grandma went to sleep, I creeped around like T-Boz, Left-Eye and Chilli looking for the place Mama hid my presents. After about 5 seconds of looking elsewhere, I went right to the closet and… EUREKA! Toy bliss! I sat there, wide-eyed** for a few moments, taking it all in. Excitement, in the form of figurative bunny rabbits, frolicked in my tummy for the entire night. Man, I couldn’t WAIT to open my goodies. The next evening (Christmas Eve) Grandma and Mama felt generous and allowed me to open my gifts at midnight since by that age, it was getting more difficult for me to fall asleep early like good kids waiting for Santee Claus do. I opened my gifts and boyyyyy did I ham. it. up! Lots of “ooooohs”, “ahhhhs” and “thank youuuuuus” all around. Hey, I’m a Leo. Drama is what we does. And we do it well. LL. To this day, Mama has NO idea I did that. *evil cackle*

2. The Big Book. EFFING THIS. There was nothing like getting the Toys R Us Big Book in the mail. As soon as I saw it, I’d plop in the middle of the floor, lie on my tummy and browse it with my legs kicked up. And of course, I got a pen/marker and marked things I lusted after. Yes, even things I knew damn well I wouldn’t be able to get since Mama was a single mama. Didn’t stop me from circling and hoping. Every year, flipping through that book became like a sport to me. A tradition. It’s funny because, looking back, I don’t quite remember exactly when I stopped this tradition. However, recently, I was browsing the book for possible gifts for my nephew and I realized something: Has the Big Book gotten smaller or have I gotten bigger? *looks at thighs* Yeah, definitely the latter. But, some of the former, too, right? That book ain’t so “BIG” no mo’. But, speaking of things I knew I wouldn’t get…

3. The Wheels of Power. I cannot even do the desire I had in my heart for Power Wheels true justice by using words. To say I “wanted” a Power Wheels is like saying Justin Bieber fans think Justin is a nice fellow. Understatement of the entire century. In fact, I have actually said that I FAILED at childhood for not getting one. Yeah, that’s dramatic. And I’m sorry, Mama. But, I did! I don’t care if those things actually went slower than a Hoveround on its last battery juice, it seemed to go faster than the Flash as a kid. Because it was like having a REAL car. It was like being a grownup. I swear, if I had one of those, you wouldn’t have been able to tell me SHIT. In fact, I probably would’ve grown up to be a stuck-up individual, so maybe it was all for the best. Divine order. But anyway, nowadays, I’m trying to live vicariously through my nephew in my quest to buy him a Power Wheels Cadillac Escalade.*** I was so geeked when I first found out one of these existed… and then I saw the price. Over 300 bucks. JiggaBeyonceSolange WHAT?! Yeah, um, I love my nephew and all (I call him my weakness!), but his auntie ain’t tryna eat crackers and air for a month now. But, hit me up in about a year. I’mma get it! I’m shooting for summer 2011, actually. I will stop this vicious childhood fail cycle!

See, what toys do to me?! So, here is your chance, Pinchers, to share your best toy memories during Christmastime! I know I scared you away yesterday with my yelling on not mentioning anything regarding toys then, but now’s the time! You know you want to! Oops, I’m yelling again…

Have a Happy Chrismahanukwanzakah, Pincheeeeees! May your holiday(s) be full of… fullness. *Christmas pinch*

See ya Monday!

 

Love ya like Chicago loves to play with my emotions with its weather,

Cheekie

 

 

 

*Other folks call it, “nosy.” I call them, “haters.”
**I know… impossible.
***Yes, when he gets it, I’mma try to get him to pose like the young lad in the picture. Foolish, thy name is Auntie Cheeks.

A Very Cheekie Christmas: Memories Light The Corner Of My Mind

*CHEEKIE NOTE*: (in my Marty-Mar voice) Wazzup, wazzup, wazzzzzzzzzzzap! Today’s post starts a week of Christmas goodness. Yup, I dedicate this entire week to Christmas. I have to! It’s my favorite-test holiday in the history of fruitcake.* So, today will be about my memories and Wednesday will be completely dedicated to toys. Oh, Friday? (-_____-) I’m (as well as many others, are) off that day so no Friday Foolery this week. Blame it on the Romans for making Christmas on a Saturday this year or something.

The little honey in the orange that moves his head from side to side? GETTIN' IT.

I said it up there in my little note, but lemme point this out again (especially for those who bypass the note since I’m always spreading bad news or trying to explain myself for screwing up), Christmas is my favorite holiday. Of — wait, what’s that superlative expression used for something special to show that nothing else compares to it? I think some young chap made it infamous via stolen microphone. Ah well, I’ll think of it. o_______O

Like many other special times in my life, Christmas brings lots of fond memories. For me, there are certain things that need to be present** when Christmas rolls around for it to actually be, ya know… Christmas. Here are my top three (excluding toys, because, remember, toys must have its own post):

1. The Good Grief. A Charlie Brown Muthafuggin Christmas. The OG version. The only one that exists. Man, I’m tellin’ ya’ll. This animated movie is EVERYTHANG to me during the holidays. I was almost about to cancel Christmas this year because I thought I missed the television broadcast. Sure, I could watch it on the internets or even the ol’ dusty VHS tape I have (mmhmm), but it ain’t the same! *throws tantrum* Thank the lawd for @MsEsquire77 and her booski for informing me of the second airing! I got to watch it this year! I’ve been watching this joint every year since I was a kid at my grandma’s house. Everything about it brings me life. The malnourished Christmas tree (the twinkle sound the leaves make when they fall is just…), Schroeder playing different versions of “Jingle Bells” for Lucy, Snoopy’s laugh at Charlie Brown’s fail, EFFING LINUS’ CHRISTMAS MONOLOGUE, the Charlie Brown Crew Christmas Juke, the crew oooooooh-ing “Hark The Herald Angels Sing”, man the list can go on, but if I do, I’mma probably write the script for the entire movie. Which, speaking of… I say, “entire” as if it’s the longest movie ever, but didn’t it seem that way as a kid? It seemed like a feature film, but as I watch it as an adult, I realize that movie is like 5 minutes long. Or, 25 minutes in non-cheekiedramatic time.

2. The King. No, not that one. Not that one, either. Naw, not even that one. Or that one. I’m talmbout Nat King Cole, niccas! Ok, so I’ve never heard him referred to as “The King”, but I consider him such. The King of Christmas. His version of “A Christmas Song” is the only version that matters. Point. Blank. And yeah, period, too. I remember when I first heard this song as a wee chile. I was in the car with Mama Cheekie and she started playing it. I can’t even accurately describe (in detail) the feeling I got listening to Mr. Cole croon, but it was definitely of Christmas. My favorite line of that song was (and forever will be), “And so, I’m offering this simple phrase, to kids from 1 to 92.” I thought that was SUCH a dope line. Still do. When I first heard it, I turned to my mama and smiled with a stifled giggle. I thought it was HILARIOUS that he would call someone who is 92 years old, a kid. The way he says “AND so…” is greatness. He so proper. Every year following that moment, I look forward to hearing that joint on the radio. In fact, this past weekend I was at the diner with Mama Cheekie after a day of shopping and it came on. My mama and I (AND the waitress) were all singing it. It was like a corny Christmas movie. Which equals perfection in my book.

3. The Pomp. The Circumstance. This one is obvious. The tree. There is not much else that gets me giddier than decorating the Christmas tree. My love for the Christmas tree is so infamous that I am officially in charge of putting up/decorating my sister’s (where we usually have Christmas since she has the little kid). It has been especially fun since my nephew was born because, ya’ll… the look on his face when I first light it up? Is every single thing to me.*** This year was especially cool because I got to sing Kanye’s “All of the Lights” while putting the lights on. Which is apt. I love apt moments. Oh, and I can’t forget wrapping presents. Ish is WAY too fun to me. Also done to singing/listening to music.

Aiight, I’ll wrap**** it up there. Pinchers, ’tis yo turn. What (TOY-LESS. I said toys are for Wednesdays) memories from Christmas do you want to share? What is that one (or two, or three, or infinite number of) thing that you have to indulge in, in order for Christmas to be officially official?

And I sweahfogawd, if you ignore the rules and list some toys today you will not get any Christmas pinches from me. And YES, that is considered a gift.

 

Love ya like America loves obsessing over another country’s royal family,

Cheekie

 

 

 

*If you actually LIKE fruitcake, God bless ya. I can’t think of one person who does. So if you do, holla at me so I can say that I do know someone who likes it. I’d like to cross that off my bucket list. Kthx.
**See what the frick I DID there?!
***That lasts all of 5 minutes. And then he starts to destroy it by taking most of the ornaments off and obliterating them. Ah, 3 year olds. Hell, at age TWO, he knocked the entire tree down. A six-foot-five tree. Incredible Hulk self.
****I effing did it AGAIN. You see it?! Put on your glasses. Or your monocle if you fancy, huh. See it now?!!!

Friday Foolery: Soft Bouncy Bouncy Curls

*CHEEKIE NOTE*: Once again, I’m apologizing for not being able to bring ya’ll a post the other day. Blame it on my Christmas party at the plantation Tuesday evening. Those who saw my drunk tweets afterwards, can vouch for my inability to do anything but sleep when I arrived home. Yes, the Goose most definitely had me feelin’ loose. So loose in fact, that the next day, my voice was completely hoarse. When I tried to speak up at work (yeah, I went to work the next morning like a true soldier), I sounded like Peter on the Brady Bunch. It’s hard to maintain your sexy when you sound like that. DIGRESSING. I’m sowwwy. *bats eyelashes*

You may not know this, but uh…

*looks around so that no one else can hear the secret I am sharing with only YOU*

IT’S FRIDAY!!

I really hope you were sitting down when you read that because if not, I am positive you fainted. You’re welcome.

Friday equals prime “gonna get my hair did” time for the ladies. Especially for those who want a truly fresh ‘do before a night out on the town. And I didn’t forget the fellas. There is nothing like a fresh cut for the weekend.

Everyone knows that it is not easy to find the perfect hairdresser/barber. I’m sure assembling a super computer is more simple than connecting with the one person who knows just what to do with your hair. Well, for those who still haven’t found the hairdresser/barber that they mesh with, FEAR NOT.

The following foolery inspiration is Miss Naturally Alise, via one of our foolish GChat sessions. That’s right, TWO Friday Foolery posts in a row are the product of my dealings with folks that are bad for my quest to obtain even a lick of sense. They are two major proponents of my (made-up) movement, #PayTheFooleryForward. Sharing is most definitely caring.

Bounce with me (no LIL Bow Wow):

0:02 – Ok, let’s start with an automatic pressing question. WHY does Kem have a Jheri Curl? … Oh, that ain’t him? -_- *puts on glasses*

0:06 – Hold the muthalovin’ presses. Hold them suckas down low. You can get a CURL for $27.50?! That’s barely 28 dollars! *faints with thrifty lust*

0:11 – This voiceover singing is the worst thing since Godzilla films, though.

0:15 – Ok, you KNOW this is a good deal because not only are you getting curls for under 28 bucks, they happen to be soft and — get this — bouncy bouncy. Read that again. That is TWO bouncy’s. Extra bounce, which I’m sure is where the 50 cents tacked on to the end comes from. What. A. Deal.

0:22 – Dude. Look at that band. Creepy dinna mug. But, back to Kem. I mean, Jarrell. Jarrell is his Gawd-given name. HE IS GREASY. Why is his chest guiding light like a soap opera?! It’s shinier than a shoe in the 1920s. I swear, any state that happens to have a drought? Just call Jarrell up and have him whip his entire being back and forth because he has juice galore. He looks like he smells like tar grease and expiration date.

0:40 – Peep the hours, doe. 8am – 12 midnight?! What in all that is the holy grail? Why it gotta be open so late? I have a feeling that unkempt and dirty things go on after 9pm. #BeautyBarbershopAfterDark Moving the HELL on…

0:56  – I DIED at the description at the bottom of this video, provided by the person who uploaded it: “Place looks like a methadone clinic from the outside.” LMFAO. Perfection. It’s funny ’cause it’s FACT.

For serious, give it up for St. Louis for being the home of this here gem. The Lou, do yo thang!

So, Pinchers, ya’ll goin’ to Jarrell’s joint this weekend to dime yourself up, right?  If you do (you will, this has obviously SOLD you), I would recommend bringing an umbrella.

Have a fantastically foolish Friday!

 

Love ya like the Kardashians/Jenners love plastic,

Cheekie

Say Goodbye To Neverland

Marques Houston KNEW he didn't wanna be 30+ talmbout, "My name Batman."

Ya know, there are just certain things grown folks shant do.

Okay, okay, okay. So, I’m a kid at heart. Don’t believe me? Hell, I have an entire category dedicated to such youth-like adventures. At face-value, I really have no business telling folks how they should act when they reach a certain age. But, I’m a stubborn Leo youngest child. I’mma do it anyway.

Case in point.

This past Saturday, I was watching Baby Boy (for the umpteenth time), just like any other movie snob. Throughout this repeat viewing, one thing bothered the hell out of me. Taraji’ P. Henson’s character, Yvette, constantly had her thumb in her mouth.

O____________O

It got me thinking that there are things that should just cease and desist once you’ve gotten your grown on. It’s one thing to embrace your inner child (when appropriate) and enjoy things that keep your spirit young. But, it’s another to… well, lemme make a list. And how about we start with the digit-slobbering…

– Tom Thumb’s Wet Dream. I’ve said this to everyone who knows/e-knows me and I’ll say it again: Sucking your thumb makes it smell like hot dog water. I can say this with 1000 percent surety. Yes, I am as sure as the deadbeat dads on Maury. This is not a game. I know this because I used to be a chronic thumb sucker AS A KID. Luckily, I have baby teefs and the resulting overbite ain’t so extreme-looking. Nicki Minaj.* I say all that to say this. Hot dog water thumbs are not the business. How are you supposed to shake a prospective employer’s hand? What about those extensive hood handshakes? Yo homie ain’t even gonna be able to finish it because he’ll get a whiff of your thumb and fall out. Grossness. It’s even annoying to see a kid sucking their fingers, but at least they’re cute while doing it. A friggin Generation X nicca with his thumb in his mouth? Not so much.

– Baby Phat Is For Just That, Babies. So, there are two different stories in regards to who left who in the Baby Phat/Kimora Lee split. Whether she was fired or she quit doesn’t really matter to me, point is — whether it was them or her — SOMEone realized that she was getting too up there to be focusing on such tween designs anyway. She can gone head and focus on her more “grown-up” KLS collection. Anyway. I am tired of seeing middle-aged women wearing tight jeans with bedazzled pockets. That shit ain’t cute. In fact, it only brings more attention to the fact that you are NOT drinking from the Fountain of Youth and are more than likely drinking from the Ensure bottle. And I’m being GENEROUS when I specify that age. Frankly, that kinda stuff should gradually decline once you hit your mid thirties. Class it up, folks. Class it the hell up.

– You Can’t Pop Champagne If You Pop Yo Backbone. I CANNOT with the 50-year old pimps and Frankies in the club. I can’t even drop it low proper without worrying about some Creepy McCreeperson blowing his Ben Gay breath on the back of my neck talmbout, “Shake it, Brick House!!” Honey. NO. The only club you should be frequenting is the one for canasta. Besides, don’t you feel like you too old to be standing in line? Yeah, standing in line. You know damn well the bouncer ain’t giving you a “hot chick” pass.

– Hopefully When You Say You’re a “Rapper”, You Mean Presents. And yeah, I know, that’s “wrapper”, but I specified… when you “SAY” it, not when you type it. K, nitpickers? K. Big sis, Chyna and I were JUST talking about this recently. I told her about the Bad Boy obituary and how Diddy screwed over (and screwed) the artists he managed in order to make his OWN ish the priority. And we both agreed that he was never really all’at as a rapper anyway and that he should be wrapping it up** about now anyway. Nothing is more uncute than a mofo with a receding hairline talmbout, “I got that demo out, you gotta cop that joint.” To paraphrase Chyna’s words, “Why are you trying to make it in an industry that caters to/promotes youth?” Now, for some unwritten reason a cat like Jay-Z can pull it off. But, Diddles? Is looking mighty foolish doing the Diddy Bop when someone as young as Soulja Boy coulda came up with the same thing. I mean, it would look stupid regardless, but at least it would FIT a youngin like Soulja. Come on old heads. Let the young bucks have their shine. Even Peter Pan is like, “Nicca, grow up.” at this point.

Pinchers, the floor is yours. Or the Poäng Chair if you too old to get on the floor and won’t be able to get up. See, I love all ya’ll!! o_O Are there other things that true grown folks shouldn’t be doing that I forgot to list (since I’m senile)? What do you feel is the cutoff limit for the things I listed above? Let’s kick it old school.

 

Love ya like Maksim from Dancing with the Stars loves being so effing purty,

Cheekie

 

 

 

*See how I did a Drake rap-style reference with his obsession, Nicki Minaj’s name? You see?!!
**STEVIE WONDER saw what I did there.

Friday Foolery: That’s What I Thought “B.J.” Means

“What is your favorite Michael Jackson song?”

That is probably the most asked question ever, in the history of quotation marks. It’s true, it’s on Wikipedia. I’ll wait here while you search the results and report back to me.

Yeah.

So, since you ASKED (begged and pleaded, even), my favorite MJ song of ALL KANYE WEST TIME is “Billie Jean.” And that song is ONLY rivaled by “Human Nature.” It was a tough call. Ya’ll just don’t know. Well, you do, because I just told you two sentences ago.

But, back to my point. *sharpens pencil* Recently, I was regaling in some epic evening GChatting with one Miss Hunny comma Beez when she shared the following GLORIOUSNESS with me:

Before I start, I want to make sure we’re all on the same page. This video’s concept is that the lyrics have been changed to match what is visually occurring in the video. Literally.

Aiight, enough splainin’…

SHAMONE:

0:38 -  “Zoom in on me, I look concerned.” See, what this has the capability of becoming?! See what I’m talmbout?! Also, the guy who did the lyrics/editing, David Scott? He’s doing a pretty good comedic Thrillermaker impersonation. lol

0:51 – AHAHAHA, this mofo said “bad dissolve.” He’s even throwin’ shots at the transitions. Details FTW. I love he.

1:02 – So, Ronald’s Drugs. Ya’ll think they sell bootleg movies, squares, and Chico Stix* there? If it’s a real-deal classy establishment, they better.

1:17 – Whoa! This is why I love this video so much. It makes you notice ish that you might not have before. DID a tiger just run out his booty? I bet that tiger can now do the smooth criminal lean just for having been exposed to MJ’s essence.

1:19 – Not the flash frame! Subliminal, Mike!

1:26 – Yeah, that coat musta been heavy. I bet it was made from leather titanium. Yes, I’m sure that was possible in Michael’s world. Say I’m wrong.

2:00 – So THAT’S why he moved the coat to his other hand?! Ya’ll thought it was a part of his choreography, but no! It was because he had a shoulder cramp! Of course. This verse is my favorite, BTW. The real lyrics, I mean…

2:19 – His collar is made of a what?! A tractor tire? I quit. I just…quit.

2:39 – Ok, I lied. I can’t quit yet. “A full body shot, make a fist and squat. Knee-kick the air!” Best description of that move, evah!

2:57 – Yeah, Michael is so dope, you probably thought he was just being cool by putting his hand in his pocket. Which he is. But he’s also efficient! He’s checking to see if he has his keys. The Thrillermaker getting locked out the crib is NOT a good look. He know what he doin’.

3:18 – And this right here is where I couldn’t TAKE IT. DUH, B.J. means “Billie Jean” right? Lawd, that was so well-played, I cannot eeem refute it…

3:22 – YES, he does look as if he is trying to recover from a tetanus shot! Get him an Elmo band-aid and a lowwypop, folks.

3:36 – HAHAHAHA, they even giving the nosy geriatric neighbor a voice in this video! What I say about details?! Loves!

3:55 – Exactly. He does look like Inspector Gadget. Go-go-gadget-moonwalk.

4:11 – Yeah, watch Miko light up the bed. I bet children (and adults) thought he could do that for real (for real) when this first debuted.

4:35 – “The homeless guy is gonna get some.” *dies* #TeamHomelessGuy You betta get you some! And buy her a bag of chips afterward, with your fiddy cents.

4:38 – That tiger IS lurking in the shadows, waiting for them, doe. Midnight snack, bish.

4:47 – LOL @ “that bedroom scene was kinda pointless.” Hell, that was probably the more relevant scene to the real lyrics, but yeah, compared to the other parts of the song? Yeah, tis true.

4:53 – Oh! It’s pointless because he didn’t even get to first base?! Point taken. But, what did you expect when you get in bed fully clothed?

4:55 – LOL @ the “JAH-MONE” at the end.

Fin.

Can I just say that I LOVE literal videos and I’m glad Beez reminded me of them. I remember seeing one a while back and I can’t remember which song it was for the life of me, but I DO remember laughing until I cried.

Well, Pinchers that rounds up the week. Hope you have a fantastic weekend full of pomp and foolery! Yes, literally. o_O

 

Love ya like Barbara Walters loves interviewing fascinating people,

Cheekie

 

 

 

*Yeah, I know they’re spelt, “Chick-O-Stick”, but WHO pronounces it that way? Exactly.

The Blog Community Conundrum

*CHEEKIE NOTE*: Sooooo, lemme do my apologizing for 2004 AND for not having a post up this past Monday now. Many sorries for no Monday postage. 2004. Blame it on a cable provider (name rhymes with Domfast), who decided to keep my internet hostage. *shakes fist at that heifer* I missed ya’ll, though. Can you say the same?

 

Ouch.

Hi, my name is Cheekie and I’m a blogosphere addict. *waits for the obligatory “hiya, Cheekie!” greeting*

In being such, I’ve frequented all sorts of blogs and interacted with all sorts of people. I tend to latch onto blogs that have a great combination of fabulous/entertaining writing and just as fabulous/entertaining commenters. If I were to guesstimate, I’d say that I’ve been reading blogs, in general, for about four years. And within this amount of time, I’ve come across several things that confuddle me.

The following are a few of them. And let me preface the below by saying that said confuddlement is very sincere. If that makes any difference. Annnnd here we go:

Things That Confuddle Me About The Blog Community.

1. The Newbie Neglect. I frequent several blogs, but my favorites all have one thing in common: their community. I tend favor a comment section that has more of a familial feel to it. Sister Sledge-type levels of family, ya’ll. I appreciate and enjoy the rapport a close blog community can have. And, YES, that same feeling can be felt at a larger blog. It just happens to be a larger family, yet a family all the same. What I do not understand is the need for commenters to treat new readers as outcasts… just because they happen to be new. Or in fact, using “you a newbie” as an insult. For real, doe? Because — and maybe I’m calculating this wrong since I suck at math like Barbie — wasn’t everyone a newbie at one point? And didn’t everyone feel good to be welcomed into the community and not ostracized just because they didn’t have some effing e-seniority? I know I felt good to be welcomed into the larger communities I frequent. Trust, commenting on a blog that gets hundreds of comments every day can be overwhelming and intimidating. And the “clique” mentality doesn’t help much. Sure, certain commenters are going to take to each other. I even have a certain group of commenters/bloggers that I interact with more often than others. But, I at least try to welcome new members so they don’t feel like such an outcast. I just don’t get how “*Nelson Muntz laugh* AH-HAH, you a newbie” is the go-to insult of the e-world when there are way more valid things to roast someone for. ESPECIALLY, since being new ain’t something someone can help AND it’s something that even the roaster has experienced before.

2. The Troll Tempting. Just in case you still live in the 90s (or 80s, or 70s, or whenever these toys kept popping up as fads), I’m not talmbout the little creatures that have jewels for belly-buttons and hair that was styled by an electrical socket. Nah, these type of trolls are the ones that hop from blog to blog writing inflammatory comments for no other reason than to get under someone’s skin. Or several people’s skins if they lucky. Now, from what I’ve observed, most regular blog readers can spot a troll from a megabyte away. In fact, some would go as far as explicitly informing the troll that they are aware of said troll-status. And yet, they engage them anyway. Thus, giving the troll “stay winning” points. After all, they have accomplished their mission. Or better yet, those who engaged have accomplished it for them. I mean, it’s one thing to talk to them just to have fun and/or because you are bored, but it’s yet another to go on a (what seems to be) serious and over-before-it-began, longwinded ass debate with them. Seriously, what does one get out of it all?

3. The E-Thug Excrement. Yeah, you read that sub-title right. Because that’s exactly what it is. Shit. Of the bull variety. Oh, e-thugs. And not just the ones who threaten folks over the internet, I’m talmbout a more nuanced type of e-thug. These type of community members puff up their chest, exclaim something controversial (or what THEY deem as such, sometimes it happens to be “ZOMG!! Look what I said!” to them and “meh” to everyone else.) and then back up their statements by growling, “I’M SAYING WHAT EVERYONE ELSE IS SCARED TO SAY!!” Yeah, see… no. I’ve mentioned folks who are a bit nervous to comment and prefer to lurk (and how to ease their hesitance). I ain’t referring to them. I’m talking about those who DO comment and have commented for a while. Those folks? Ain’t scared to speak their piece. In fact, the very IDEA of e-thuggery exists because you can hide behind your computer screen. Thus, no need to be scared. Hell, folks tell all kind of outrageous, embarrassing, and criminalizing stories over the internets, and yet someone assumes other folks are afraid to speak the truth (just because it doesn’t agree with YOUR truth) and that someone has come to set everyone straight? Nah, that’s aiight. We don’t need a ruler. We doing just fine.

Honorable Mention – The Blogger Brush-Off. Since I dabble in this blog thing AND comment on other folks’ blogs, I understand both sides of the coin. I consider the blog community to include the blogger himself/herself/itself. So, what makes me “o_O” is when bloggers don’t respond to their commenters. Like…ever. I’m not saying respond to each and every comment because that becomes more and more impossible, the larger the blog becomes. But, not interacting with the people who read your blog? Why enable comments at all? Especially when a question is asked about the post and/or a personalized comment is made in reference to that particular post. I obviously don’t get a high volume of comments (and even those that do, find it possible to interact in some way), but I can’t imagine NOT participating in a forum that I’ve created for just that… discourse about something I’ve written. Why not?

So. Pinchers. It’s your turn. What about the blog community makes you go “WTF?” How about the blogosphere, period? Got some insight on the things i listed above? And, hell — why not — if there is anything about the way I do things that confuddles you greatly (such as making up words like confuddle), speak your piece below. We a family here! *wonders who the crazy “trying to be young” uncle would be in this instance*

 

Love ya like Wacka Flocka Flame loves to… do it,

Cheekie

Friday Foolery: Hard In The Stank

Ah, the sense of smell. It is a truly glorious thing. You know, they* say that smell is the strongest sense of recall. A lot of our memories are based on smells. For example, a chick may not remember how the lame that danced with her (drunk self) at the club looked like, but she for damn sure remembered that his armpits smelt like Boost Mobile.

Smell is most definitely the more powerful of the 5 senses. I know this because even though I have a friggin’ deviated septum, it still affects me the most when it comes to the male clan. It is my ultimate favorite thing about a ninja. NOTHING gets me weaker than a man that smells good. I don’t care if he look like Celie’s reflection, I will do a double-take if his cologne game is right. *faints just thinking about it*

Wellllllll, obviously, this young gentleman knows the power of scent on women. Behold:

I'm pretty sure this smells like patchouli and illiteracy.

%#$#$^$&$%$&%$U$%&%$#E!!!!%#$^$#&$%&&$&%$^$%  <~~~ My reaction upon first seeing this, give or take a few creative license points.

I apologize to the word “genius” for arbitrarily attributing it to anything other than this. Because this? IS GENIUS. Come on. Eau Le Doet? My funny bone is envious that I didn’t think of it first. WHO thought of it first, by the way? A chuuch hug and a pinch goes to the person who lets me know. Then a real hug and pinch goes to the person who came up with it. I might even let you cop a feel.

For those of you who read books instead of surfing the internets and/or listening to the radio, Eau Le Doet is a satirical spin on Waka Flocka Flame’s single, entitled, “O Let’s Do It” (pronounced oh-lay-doo-it). Alright? Alrighty. Glad we’re all caught up.

Mr. Flame. Sir. If you don’t already know about this nor have you gotten your publicist on this project, please rectify that like… yesterday. Hell, I have n’an experience in selling anything but my soul to Pixar, but even I have ideas on how to market this lovely scent.

Follow me down the brainstorming road…

If I Were To Market Waka Flocka Flame’s “Eau Le Doet” Scent:

– I’d fancify (of COURSE I can make up words, the topic is Waka) Waka Flocka’s name a bit to match the Frenchy name. I’d flash “Eau Le Doet, a scent by Wakavian Flock’shell Flameboutin” across the screen at the end of the gorgeous commercial. TELL me that don’t scream couture. Right.

– You know how fragrances have special deals such as “free tote with gift set purchase?” Well, with each purchase Waka gift set (includes Eau Le Doet cologne, aftershave cream, and soap on a string) you’d get free automatic admission to the University of Phoenix! How cool is that?! Edumacation for the win.

– I’d make sure Monsieur Flame doesn’t get confused by the new spelling. When it’s time to shoot the commercial, I don’t want his voiceover to sound like:

Waka: Oh, here go my… co-long-nee?
Production Assistant (Backstage): Cologne!
Waka: Oh! Cologne. … Eee-oh-yoo…um, E-I-E-I-O? Wuz dis e-a-u, shit?
Production Assistant: It’s pronounced “Oh.” Do it like we rehearsed, man. Just like your song. Oh. Lay. Do. It.
Waka: Oh yeah, raht. My cah-long, oh lay doo it. You do it. I do it. Less do dis. WAKAAAAAAAAAA!

Yeah…no. I want it to go a bit smoother than that. Hence my eagerness to make sure he’s comfortable and not confuddled.

So, that’s just a few ideas I had dougie-ing in my head. It’s still a work in progress, but on the real… Flamester? Hit me up if you want to make some real cash. Have your people call… me. I’ll make you BIG! *swivels in chair*

(-_-)

Happy Friday, Pinchers! Have a fabulous weekend. Hopefully, (unlike me) you’ve started your Chrismahanukwanzakah shopping. See, if the above cologne actually existed, we could’ve made some ninja’s Christmas MUCH brighter. *missed opportunities sigh*

Love ya like Lebron James loves the smell of talcum powder (in Cleveland) in the morning,

Cheekie

P.S. Random Blogger Tidbit: While typing this post, I spelled Waka’s name “Wacka” the entire time until I Googled him for something and realized I’ve been spelling it wrong the entire time. Ever since I’ve been aware of his “career.” In fact, I didn’t realize it until I was re-reading the finished post for typo-checking so I had to go back and correct each mention. I misspelled a non-existent word. FAIL. Which is hilarious, considering that I could’ve pulled that off as a pun (you know… calling him wack. Wack-a.), but I seriously thought it was spelled that way. Wayment. I should’ve just lied and said it was a pun the whole time. Too late… *smacks forehead*

*What I’ve always wondered is, who is this… “they?” You know, the folks that people always cite as saying some old proverb or adage? Who is they? The Illuminati? Probably.

Plantation Pet Peeves

Disclaimer That Ain’t Even Needed But I Thought It Would Be Nice To Note: I jokingly refer to my job as “the plantation.” It’s just jokes, my brethren/sistren. I do actually get paid. Monetarily. Direct deposit, bishes. So, don’t alert Al Sharpton or nuffin. I’m cool. Thanks for your concern, doe.

Tell me why I’m complaining, again?

Those who know me can attest to the fact that what I love most about my job are my coworkers. They are what make a mundane day-job worth it. I mean, seriously, the chemistry between my coworkers (those that I work closest with) — and this INCLUDES my boss — is unbeatable and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Wellll… unless I win the lottery or somethin’. o_O

As much as I adore my work environment, it ain’t perfect*. In fact, there are a few things about it that kinda get on my nerves. Allow me to express them to you without you asking…

– All Up IN My Kool-aid (not in that cute euphemism way, either). Now, as you Pinchers know, I have a bit of OCD in me. You know how some Black folks got that Indian in their family? I got OCD-isms in mine. I think that’s how I got good hurr. Anyway, I get pretty anxious when coworkers come over to talk to me if I happen to eat at my desk (which happens frequently since we be busy). Now, it’s not that I don’t like to talk when I’m eating. I’d be a damn lie if I said that. I love company whilst eating. But, in an eating environment. There’s something about a ninja leaning over my pod** and trying to make conversation while I’m making love to my lunch that just gives me the heebiejeebies. I just have visions of molecular-sized spittle diving onto my food and my lower lip. And it SUCKS ASS. *Montgomery Burns shudder* And in that same vein…

– I Coulda SWORN We Had Our Own Computer. So, if you’re reading this, you’re probably aware that I spend a substantial amount of time reading blogs (it’s probably how you found this rinky-dink place). Let’s just say that I’ve mastered the art of multi-tasking. Multiple windows/tabs, FTW. Alls I know is, I can do all that and still manage to be productive at work. I have to admit that I’m lucky — nay, BLESSED — to not have a micro-manager. Bossman usually just keeps to himself unless he truly needs something from us or he wants to chat (which I welcome. he dope.). But, them other folks who I DON’T report to? Why you looking all on my screen? May I help you on some “paper or plastic” ish? No? Well, stop lowkey trying to steal glances at what I’m doing. Be about your bidness before I call the IT Department and let them know they might as well drop by and take your computer to storage because you obviously want to share mine instead.

– Reply-happy, Much? Those who work in a corporate setting know about this all too well. Especially the twinster, Beez. (hey boo!) I’m talmbout those folks that feel the need to “Reply All” in unnecessary circumstances. Look, I’mma keep it big face one-hunnid, I use “reply all” when sending back and forth emails, myself. But, you know what the difference is? I make sure those folks are actually relevant to the email and will benefit from said email (i.e. can use said information or get/want a laugh). But arbitrarily replying to everyone and their grandma just ’cause? NO. Flag on the play. If you are the partner of a firm and I ain’t never seent you because you work on the 20-leventh floor, I have n’an reason to read your corny banter amongst your peers. And what really grinds my gears is that if little ol’ moi were to “REPLY TO EVERYONE IN THE DAMN COUNTRY” with that hot mess, I’d be getting the dreaded call from HR and later exiting the premises with a box of my stuff. Pimps DO have it hard. Lawd, I tell ya…

– What Has The Word “Hello” Ever Done To You? Maybe it’s because my people migrated here from the south and I somehow got a small percentage of that southern hospitality, but I cannot with folks that don’t speak to you when they pass you in the hallway. And not even folks I’ve never seen (though, I speak to them too if I’m not busy daydreaming or something), but folks that directly work with me and/or see me everyday (or “often” at the very least)? Come on, son. Yeah, I’m calling you “son” too, ladies. I can’t even get a “head nod?” How about a “pursed-lip fake acknowledgment smile***?” Not unlike Will Smith’s parents, I just don’t understand. Plus, walking by someone you work with and not acknowledging them is awkward for us both. You know this. Especially if I say “hey” and get dust in response. *sniff*

Annnnd scene.

So. Pinchers, do you have any pet peeves at the gig? What exactly is it about the coworkers/boss that makes you go “o_O?” Let’s all bond over The Man.

 

Love ya like Keri Hilson loves to introduce you to her ladyparts via thrust,

Cheekie

P.S. Nicca it’s DECEMBER, already?! Last month of 2010…

 

 

 

*For my visual creatures: On a scale of men, “perfect” means “Idris Elba.”
**We don’t have cubicles, per se. For those of us minions that don’t have offices, we sit in little cubicle-like little three-quarter boxes. They’re unlike cubicles in that the walls aren’t super tall; we can see over said walls while sitting down, actually. The only really tall one is the one that connects them together. The more you know. *pushes ‘ding’ button*
***Don’t eeem ack like you don’t know what I’m talmbout. 2520s, especially, STAY doing this.