The Caribana And The Cheeks

This is why we can't have nice Canadian things like universal healthcare.

*Missy Elliot slides (circa “Work It” video) past U.S. Customs*

Oh, hey.

So, as you can tell from the fact that you’re reading this now (and besides, WHO would ghostwrite for me?), I’ve survived Caribana. Ya know, lived to tell about it.

I can sum up my trip to Toronto in one (made-up) word: fantabulous. However, I decided to get long division on yo arse and break down the reasons as to why it was so grand.

So, in no particular order… I present, the Toronto highlights! Leggo! (which Canadians probably spell “Leggou!” o_O )

– Torontonian Travel. As recapped in both my DC and Cancun posts, it seems like I ALWAYS have to encounter some sort of drama to get either to or from my vacay destination. And this time was no different. Well, it was slightly different in that it involved a bus, not a plane. -_- In fact, my plane ride was smooth and quick DESPITE my prior worrying about flight delays due to thunderstorm forecasts in Chicago that morning. When I arrived in Buffalo and met up with L Boogie and Miss Blak n Bougie we chilled at the airport (and of course ate buffalo wings) and then went outside to wait for the Megabus. Little did we know at the time that we had to wait for said bus about TWO hours past its scheduled arrival time. That, coupled with being held up at customs (and having our bags unloaded for NO reason… *looks at Keisha Brown* yeah, no reason; they didn’t scan them!! lol) really had me on irritation status. I was already on “les sighs” mode for having to travel on my birthday. The only thing that kept me at ease was the anticipation of finally getting there and seeing my homies. Well, at least I thought that was the only thing…

– Oops, Pow, Surprise. When we finally arrived in the heart of Toronto, I texted KB to let her know we were near since it was the plan for her to pick us up. Except she informed us, “Yo, take a taxi to Max’s house and I’ll pay for the fare. Trust me, it’s worth it!” We did just that and finally met up with the girls. I exchanged reunion hugs with Lala, Max, and KB and exchanged “OMG we finally meet!” hugs with BP,  emti and superblackgirl (Max’s sister). We kicked it, ate lasagna from KB’s place of work and had a hilarious Skype conversation with Nick (of which she had me DYING when she actually put her EAR to the screen instead of turning up the volume when she couldn’t hear something we said). Then all of a sudden, I see a RED VELVET CAKE coming my way with candles via Max. Yo, I hollered. No, for real, I effing screamed. Everyone sang “Happy Birthday” and that single moment made my travel woes totally worth it. *group hug*

– In A Food Mood. I’m always fascinated by the little differences from one place to another and Canada didn’t disappoint. The fact that they have ketchup Lays potato chips and red colored cream soda?! Those potatoes at Counter? Mannnn, listen. My favorite foodie moment, doe, was the 3-course dinner at Joe Mama’s. A little background. I’m always hating salty when KB posts fancy-schmancy food pics on Twitter and I’m not there to enjoy. Well, I felt pretty good about taking part of some of that when I ordered the guacamole bruschetta, (giant) rib steak and a slice of red velvet cake (of which I LEFT at KB’s house. *punches butterfly*). Also, the extra loud and ratchet group rendition of “When Doves Cry” was the business. We coulda got paid for the entertainment we were providing the other patrons.

– Shenanigans At The Spa. Prior to the weekend, Max suggested a spa day of which we all enthusiastically agreed to. Then someone (NOT ME, L Boogie) decided that we should get Brazilians. So, a few of us (me, L Boogie, Miss Patterson, and KB) decided to be each other’s moral (and empathetic) support and get ‘em. Let’s just say that I was nervous AND made sure I was well-drugged. But, hey! It wasn’t even that bad. All I let out was a, “ooh!” here and a nervous laugh there. I knew for sure I’d be screaming, “Kelly Clarkson! Justin Guarini!” or some ish. But, alas, I’m a thug. A thug who can’t stop caressing her new velvet vajayjay. *vows to always sit with legs wide open* So, big ups to Max’s signature kitty waxer, who was fabulous and funny. We chatted the whole way through, which automatically put me at ease. Definitely can’t forget the epic body massage I had a few minutes before, too. That ish had me in total zen mode. *wistful sigh*

– The Great Outdoors. One word: PARADE. It was every single thing. Even though it was “hot as Hades” as KB would say, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The fact that I was actually dancing in the streets with the folks playing mas (= masquerade, with the glittery costumes)?! Enough to have glitter on myself afterwards? *faints* Sure, it was hot and crowded, but I try to make fun out of any (or at LEAST many) situation(s) and not much says more fun to me than booty-shaking and good music. Seeing everyone join together with smiles, the gorgeous costumes, the giant colorful “human floats”, the fried plantain, ogling foine scatily-clad dudes with Miss Patterson and Legit Soul … the list goes on. And then there was the potluck hosted by KB. We rode a ferry to a nice little island/picnic area and had a blast. I mean, I expected to have fun, but I had a BALL. Lemme just say that KB’s family (was extra glad to meet her infamous baking sister, too!) and friends are absolutely hilarious. It was so great how instantly we all clicked. It was like a little family reunion! Also, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen two bees get captured inside a cup of orange pop (yes, POP), witness one of the bees die (he planked, on the real) and then get to see both of the bees WRESTLE when they realized they were trapped together. Yes, this happened. Eff a National Geographic. That ish occurred at our picnic table.

– Celebrate, Celebrate, Celebrate, Let’s All Partake In Libations In A Frivolous Manner. Ah, the partying. We went to two big parties that weekend. First, was Soul Kitchen. This was where we met a few more folks. I met the lovely and fashionable Shay and I actually met Humble One! When we all saw him, we actually screamed in unison. Ya’ll don’t understand how the collective eStreets didn’t believe he was a real person. Anyway, we danced our cheeks off and I slowly realized why Toronto men have the “no game” rep. Legit and I collectively side-eyed a couple of dudes who line-danced/strolled with each other the ENTIRE night. Yes, WHILST several fly chicks shaked various tailfeathers TWO centimeters away from them. o_O Then, there was the Sunday night party. Wait, back-up. L Boogie, Miss Patterson, Legit, KB, and a few of KB’s friends decided to go to a hotel room (occupied by some of KB’s Chi homies) for a pre-party. We got it IN. We line-danced, took pictures, us ladies got ogled by the dudes in the room across from us (when we knocked on the door, they thought we were knocking on their door and gawked at us as we walked into the other room instead), and danced to tunes as one of the Chi dudes acted as DJ/hype-man using the mic from their traveling karaoke machine. Yeah, you read that right. Basically, we pre-partied properly. But, back to the party-party. We’d heard that Sunday was THEE night since it was the last one of Caribana weekend so I was amped. And Pooch Hall’s fahn self was hosting the party we were going to (which ended up being the biggest one in the city). I’m pretty sure we all sweated enough water to create yet ANOTHER one of the Great Lakes with our non-stop dancing. We went hard in the Valspar paint. Definitely got picked up (as in lifted, this always tends to happen… thick chick struggles), physically challenged by a thrusting-dude as to how low I could actually go, and I got to molest Pooch Hall’s arm twice. Good, good times.

– I *heart* Toronto, Generally. Toronto in general, is a beautiful city. Their skyline is gorgeous (I couldn’t stop gazing at the CN Tower every time we passed by it), their public transportation system was smooth (and a great deal!), the folks were nice and polite, their Skittles (colorful) money was fascinating, their version of Times Square (called Yonge-Dundas Square) was a pleasant surprise, getting to hear more folks say “eh” at the end of sentences (other than Max and KB, whom I’d already heard say it in the past) was great, and ya know… that whole “aboot” thing they swear doesn’t exist. Great city to visit. I highly recommend if you haven’t been, Pinchers.

Overall, I had a phenomenal time. I’m talkin’ “life-changing” type time. That may seem a little dramatic now, but I have that feeling…

My eLadies,

KB – Thanks for being the wonderful fellow Leo that you are. I adore how you talk with your hands and NO one can touch your planning game. Who gon’ check you, boo? No one, because you would’ve planned it first and been ahead of the game.

Max – Once again, you give me life when you drop the F-bomb (as I do the same to you, apparently, lol) and you encouraged me to try new things without you even knowing it. All it took was a sly grin. You have a way of upping someone else’s fabulous game just by being next to you. It’s fascinatingly dope.

L Boogie – I’ont like you, but I luh you. This makes sense. For serious, my eyes seriously watered when I left ya at the airport. Though, it may be allergies. You are my sister from another mister. And yeah, you are SO me. Lawd.

Miss Patterson – Your doe-eyed self. So glad to see you again. I love your bubbly spirit and random raunchy side. And your twirls instantly make me feel better. In fact, I’mma do one now while writing this sentence. Yup, just did it.

LaLa – I don’t even have to reiterate how gangsta you are. I mean, you have a donk AND a ninja for a daddy. What’s better than that?! As always, I thoroughly enjoy sharing foolishness with you, especially when it involves “What’s Love Got To Do With It.”

BP – You are so hilariously hyper and random that I can’t help but love ya! These are definitely things I value in a person, so I adore you, by default. Plus, you gave me one other reason to head to California other than my screenwriting career. That’s right, those See’s butterscotch pops. Man…

Blak N Bougie: How can I NOT love a chick that names her wigs? You are funny and fabulous at the same time. Which, is no easy feat. You can make a person laugh WHILE flipping your hair and slaying hos. Work it.

Legit Soul – My big-haired Cali sister. You truly represent that Cali laid-back coolness. You are SUPER nice to everyone and I seriously can’t remember a time when I didn’t see you smile. Which means instant buddy for me. Can’t wait to visit you in the Oakland hood. Was great flying back with you to Chicago (connecting flights, FTW)! But, for real doe, why come your hurr is so dayum dope, doe? LOL

Pinchers, have you ever been to Toronto, participated in Caribana, or to Canada, period? Share your stories here! Oh, and let me know what you think of my recap as well!

Love ya like high-heels love to murk my feet,

Cheekie

P.S. Ya dayum right that’s me in today’s post picture.

I Do Not Dine Thine Swine

Somehow, I think ol' dude is currently saying, "That'll do, bacon. That'll do."

I am non-Muslim and I don’t eat pork. Now, that I answered the “Are you Mooooo-slem?!” question before it was asked, I wanted to briefly explain why exactly I stopped. I wish I could be all historic and remember the exact date I stopped, but I can’t. I’m on some “elephant on Opposite Day” mess. I can guess-timate and say that it has been about a year.

Mama Cheekie stopped eating pawk about 20 years ago. And her mama had her eating every bit of the pig. Since we and just about every Black folk in the history of melanin have high blood pressure in our family, she decided to cut out the salty meat for good. Recently, I decided to follow her lead. And I must say, it wasn’t that hard to do so.

So, I’m gonna take ya’ll into the life of an anti-porker.* Think of it as a documentary. A blog-umentary if you will. This is not so much an all-inclusive list of all non-pork eaters’ traits as it is an all-inclusive list of MY non-pork eater traits. Meaning, what I have to go through as a porkless ninja. Make like Twitter and follow me, please:

The Bacon. Ok, so supposedly, bacon is like the best food in the world. FALSE. That would be rice, boo. Regardless, the rest of the world seems to believe that bacon is the second coming since everything is being made with it. ANYthing you can think of, there is a bacon variation. Candy, cake, condoms. I’m not sure about the third one, but if you can Google it for me, that’ll be fab. Point is, the list goes on. It wasn’t difficult giving up bacon because I didn’t even have to give it up. I’ve ALWAYS loved turkey bacon more. Why? Because, I’m a carnivore. Babe bacon is like 55% fat, 20% grease, 20% broken dreams, and 5% lean meat. Turkey bacon, however, is a lean-mean meaty machine. And this chick loves her some meat. Gone ‘head push that “That’s What She Said” button. I still think turkey bacon is better,  you Jive Turkey.

The Lost of the Black Card. If I had a nickel for every time one of my brethren/sistren said some variation of, “You’ont eat pawk? Guh, that’s kneegrow meat! You fake ninja!” Um, stop…HALT right there. The motherlovin’ Nation of Islam is blacker than the unlighted section of the visible spectrum and they don’t eff with that dirty meat. So, um, ya’ll need more people. Preferably ones wearing bow ties.

The Cookouts. This is where it gets kinda difficult for me. Just recently, my sister’s cousin’s (on her daddy side) husband’s mama (See why we just say “cousin” for everybody? This six degrees of separation mess is not what’s sizzling in the cement.) made some (allegedly) bomb-ass spaghetti. ‘Twas supposed to have all kinds of basil and whatnot. This ninja loves basil.** Anyhow, my sister bought the ingredients and the lady was to cook it. Turns out, she put ground Italian sausage in the meaty mix without my knowledge and was like, “Oh, yeah, I forgot you didn’t eat pork!” I was so butthurt. I mean, luckily I had other lovely side-dishes to partake in, but I love spaghettis. And FML that it was GROUND Italian sausage, thus eliminating any chance that I could pick it out of mine. Hmph.

The Parker House Nostalgia. Like, I said above, it wasn’t really difficult for me to give up pork. I was never a fan of ham, was sort of “meh” on pork chops, I HATE chitlins despite never having tasted them***, and I already expressed my disdain for pawk bacon. But, the one thing I’ll truly miss is Parker House Sausages. My grandma used to whip up some hot (as in “spicy”) Parker House Sausages and I devoured those things like a Not-Safe-For-Work video production. o_O

Moving on.

So, those are a few attributes of a non-pork eater. Any porkless Pinchers out there? What have been your experiences with not eating pork? How long have you been off the swine? What are the pros/cons for you?

As for the pro-pork Pinchers? Don’t even think about trying to re-convert me with Parker House gift baskets. Enjoy your bacon. Tell me why you love pork. What’s your favorite pork park. Everyone’s welcome to the discussion here. I don’t judge. I love you.

Love ya like Glenn Beck supporters love to speak in generalities when defending their nonsense,

Cheekie

*Ya’ll nasty.
**Do you say “bay-sil” or “bah-sil?” I say the former, but I’m always reminded of the “Proud Family” episode where one of those bad little kids named after seasonings was like, “It’s BAHsil, you twit.” Cracked my whole world UP. I laughed for eons.
***Nope, I have not tasted chitlins. I love my tastebuds too much. However, I am CONVINCED that they taste just like they smell, contrary to what its supporters say. They are liars. I love me some hot sauce and it does make things taste better, but even that is no match for chitlins, aka “death warmed over in hell.”