Tears Of A Clown

Sang it, Smokey.

But ain’t too much sadder than…

Being funny is… funny.

Laughter, in general, is easily my most cherished emotion. I love laughing; I love making people laugh. And, allegedly, I’m pretty good at the latter. I’m proud of that fact because as much as I love to laugh, I love even more to share in laughter with someone else.

The interesting conundrum that comes with this territory, though, is that once you have been established as the “funny one”, you are nothing but. And in an ideal world, I would love to always be the clown, facilitating the pure joy of my audience.

But, that ain’t real.

…

Shit about to get real, however.

Pinchers, as you know, I’m a sharing creature. Mostly laughter, cuteness, foolery and the like. Today, I share this: I’ve recently entered therapy.

It was a road hesitantly-traveled at first, but I finally got here. Ever since I was a child, I was the embodiment of “laugh to keep from crying.” I exploited my goofy nature as a protective umbrella, hovering over the darkness of loneliness. And lawd, was I lonely. Lawd, AM I lonely. You know that feeling of feeling most lonely within a crowd of people? That.

And I used my wild imagination to help combat that. Or more accurately, to escape that. I still do today. It’s what lead me to being a writer.

My biggest roadblock to therapy has admittedly been pride. Not ashamed of what therapy is because I have always been an advocate for it… for other people. It’s easy for me to dispense advice, not so much to take that very advice.

I am the epitome of “keeping a straight face” despite dying inside. I’ve been commended for this supposed talent at work and praised for it at home. I have a smile to envy the brightness of the sun itself, but sometimes… it’s a clown’s smile. Painted-on.

I am usually the go-to person for advice, help, assistance and anything in between. And I do it happily. I’m the person who honestly loves to surprise someone with a gift than being surprised with one myself. But throughout that, it’s easy to forget that sometimes the roles have to be reversed. I can’t handle all of my own problems any more than the very people I help can with theirs. I’m certainly not super-woman, but I sure act like it. This ain’t an Oscar-winning role, though… this is life.

I needed help. I need help. The heartbreaks, stress, tragedy and trauma that has colored my life a dull grey was outlined by the bright yellow of my foolery. And it took me a while to take off the clown costume, to take off the super-woman costume, to take off the “Cheekie” costume… and expose me.  And I felt naked. I felt vulnerable. I felt — and this is the scariest part of all — free.

As I type this, I have to let ya’ll know that I had this post brewing in my mind for a while now. In fact, ideally, I wanted to write it before I my first appointment. But as of now, I’ve been to two sessions. What my ideal and the real have in common though, is that I wanted this to come straight from the heart.

As I ramble off my heartstrings to ya’ll, tears are slipping from my eyes and onto the keyboard. And yet I keep writing.

I’m not even entirely sure what my ultimate goal is in writing this. Simply to share, to inspire, to remove the stigma? All of the above? Even more than that? I don’t know.

What I do know is that I’m in the process of healing myself and it was of utmost importance that I share this. I’m only two sessions in and I’m already pretty sure that therapy is one of the best things that will even happen to me. Because it’ll only serve as a catalyst to other great things I want/need in my life. And the timing is so divine in relation to the many opportunities that are the horizon for me, it has left me speechless. It has only showed me that I need this… to move forward with that.

Laughter is fantastic. Laughter to the point of crying is even better. Today, I ask you to simply… cry with me.

Love ya like Dumbo loves to fly,

Cheekie

No Justice, No Peace: A Testimony For Trayvon

This is us.

It started with a Facebook posting. It ended with… well, hopefully justice.

But, we’re not quite there yet. So, let’s go back to the beginning.

This past Friday, I attended the Chicago Million Hoodie March for Trayvon Martin. I was aware of the movement in general and I knew a Chicago-based one wasn’t too far behind. As soon as I saw the Facebook invite, I knew in my heart that I’d be there. In fact, I had prior plans to see “The Hunger Games” (a movie I was super geeked about seeing) that same evening.

But, guess what I had a stronger appetite for?

That morning, I strolled to the plantation in my hoodie, aptly dressed for Casual Friday. I suppose I looked suspicious, even with my babyfaced pinchable self. I had decided on my hoodie with the peace sign, which I figured was mighty poignant, given the situation.

I gotta be honest with ya’ll, Pinchers, it’s pretty difficult for me to summarize the sheer power, energy and emotion we generated with this march/rally (let alone combined with the numerous ones across the country… and possibly, the world!), so I figured I’d just point out the moments that stuck with me.

My Top Five “Million Hoodie March (Chi Edition)” Moments:

1. The Unity. From the moment I stepped up to ABC News Studios I felt that bond. The bond that — despite the fact that we were all from different backgrounds, barely knew each other or unknowingly passed each other on the Chicago sidewalks without so much as a greeting nod — made us one unit. And that unit was a fierce force fighting for justice. Because we all knew, as we glanced at each other in our respective hoodies, that we were Trayvon Martin.

2. The Numbers. I couldn’t tell ya’ll the exact tally of people that showed up, but mannnnnn did we show up DEEP in the Chicago Loop. We basically took over State Street. As many hoodies as there were in front of me, there were thrice as many behind me. We took up an entire block and then some. It truly spoke to the power of “word of mouth.” Never ever underestimate it.

3. The Sound. The Loop was alive with the sound of justice! Chants of “No Justice, no peace!”, “We are Trayvon!”, and “What do we want? (Justice!) When do we want it? (Now!)” reverberated through the streets of Chicago like its very own soundtrack. We were loud as hell. So loud, that when it started to rain and we heard the sounds of thunder, we even seemed to overpower that. It was as if the looming storm only fueled our passion, making it bigger… stronger. The energy we created was like a burst of adrenaline I never quite felt before. I even led a few chants! Once we made it to Millennium Park, we reflected a bit and transitioned to a different type of sound: song. We swayed as we sung emotion-ridden renditions of Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Goin’ On” and Bill Withers’ “Lean On Me.” We may not have been Grammy material in terms of voice (especially after shouting for a while!), but it was probably one of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard.

4. The Support. The support we felt amongst ourselves was powerful enough, so imagine our elation when we heard cars honking, cheering us along! Traffic isn’t something taken lightly in a big city and boy did we hold it up! So, to hear the supportive honks and people rolling down their windows to cheer/give us thumbs-up signs, and to walk by onlookers as they held up their hands to give us high-fives uplifted our spirits in an unimaginable way. It made me realize that the fight extended beyond the march. It made me realize that the fight was being fought in our hearts… constantly.

5. The Passion. I could feel it everywhere. From the firm gesture of hoodies being thrown over heads (after the “Hoods up!” declaration) to the empowered rise of fists (after the “Fists up!” declaration). From the frustrated cry of a tired black man toward a local news journalist to the wide-eyed curiosity of a little girl in a hoodie. From the choked sob of a mother lamenting the inevitable violence her son will face to the quiet fight of the middle-aged man with civil rights marches of the past giving him a sense of deja-vu. The passion was ever-present in each of those scenarios and many more. I felt each and every one as it were my own. Because the most enlightening (and possibly scary) part of it all is… it was my own. I was them just as much as they were me. Because Trayvon could’ve been me, you… us.

The Million Hoodie March was about Trayvon, the individual, and by extension, it was about what he represented. He became the face of our ongoing fight for justice and peace. He became a movement. And as I looked at all the faces marching and screaming beside me, I knew the thing we all knew: That this is only the beginning. And I’m proud as hell that we decided to turn the first page…

… which, is to be continued.

Pinchers, did you participate in a Million Hoodie March in your area? Did you go to the Chicago one with me? Drop your moments and experiences below. Speak on it!

Love ya like Bill Withers loves a lovely day,

Cheekie

P.S. If you want to check out a few more pics from the march/rally, hit up my Twitpics profile here. Also, a special thanks to Keinika Carlton for taking it upon herself to organize and lead this march/rally. It only takes one to turn into a million. Big ups to her for being that one.

Don’t Let Me Get In My Zone… Of Friendship

Oh, Keanu, you wise son of a bish.

Ah, the “friend zone.” These are two words often bemoaned by the male species. For women, though, this phrase is pretty much considered nonexistent or impossible… according to men, that is.

I just think it’s a matter of definition. While men only feel they’re out of the friend zone once they smang, I think women usually feel they’re out of the friend zone once they get that young “In a Relationship” Facebook status. Basically, it’s complicated. See what I did there? Do ya?! If you don’t, you need visual insurance. But, that’s another societal issue…

A semi-notreally-kinda-recent blog post written by P to the J over at Very Smart Brothas, entitled “And You Say She’s Just A Friend“, really stuck with me because it perfectly encapsulated friendships between most men and women. The frequent pop-ups of sexual innuendo, the copped feels, the too-long hugs… all’at. I experience that with guys all the time. And while to them, that kinda means that I’m not quite a platonic friend, to me, I’m thinking… well, what I see is also what I’m not. Their boo.

It makes me wonder, does the fact that they would consider smangage with me cancel out the fact that I’m just a friend even though they’re not really willing to take it to the next level? What part of the game is that?!

Don’t get me wrong, with most guys in my life, I’m perfectly content with just the good-natured banter and the “innocent” flirting. There’s always room for that. But, what about when I want more? Then the flirting doesn’t seem so innocent, it seems like mixed signals. You can’t say I’m like your sister in one sentence and then in the next sentence make lewd “that’s what she said” jokes off of every thing I say. WHO talks to their sister like that? Nawl… really. If you do, raise your hand.

All this got me thinking. There are certain common qualities that I have that may or may not keep me in the friend zone:

– The Funny Fem. This is probably the top quality that I have that makes me “cool” to many of you peen-wielding mofos. Yup, I’m the funny girl. I constantly make jokes and I’m downright goofy at times. I’ve heard and read many ninjas pontificating on how they want a chick with a good sense of humor, but sometimes I think that means “a girl who laughs at MY jokes, not necessarily tells them.” And since I love to laugh, oftentimes I do want a funny guy, but dayum ninja, I ain’t tryna compete with you, I want us to laugh together.

– The Laid-Back Lady. “You’re so laid-back and cool.” I’ve gotten that from dudes. While I can be dramatic about some things, most things I tend to shrug off and keep it moving and that’s a quality of mine that keeps guys flocking to me… to vent about their girls. … ( ._.) Oh. I’ve always been told I’m a good listener and able to perfectly assess situations, and hey, I embrace that. I’m a writer. Ya gotta be observant to be a good one. And for a ninja I care about and love, I’m always glad to help him out. He my boy. But, if I like-like him, that is whole ‘nother level of torture. It’s like dangling a carrot* in front of me that I can’t quite reach.

– The Tomboy Tina. The “tomboy” label has been a part of most of my life. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve showcased much more of my femininity, but that tomboy aura is always there. Basically, I’m the chick in the tight yoga pants that hugs my thighs and (other) cheeks ecstatically high-fiving a ninja when Derrick Rose and Carlos Boozer performs a dope pick and roll combo. I’m at a time in my life where I’ve never been so confident to show off my curves, but I can also easily blend in a “homie” environment when none of that really matters. It’s quite the dichotomy…

Overall, I guess my main confusion stems from the fact that I’m not really so black or white. I’m not necessarily asexual (I’ve see ya’ll whiplash looks when I’m walking down the street, ninjas!), but I’m also not extra feminine, either. I don’t grunt and stratch my crotch with the boys, but I’m also not a stranger to “brother-bonding” activities, either. Maybe it’s because I don’t fit into one particular mold. Maybe I’m part of the confusion. But, that’s me…

All I’m hoping is that my goofy, good-listening, homie self can get more “yes” boxes checked in the “Will You Go With Me? – Yes, No, Maybe” form.

Pinchers, what say you? Guys, can you give me some insight? Are chicks like me doomed to the friend zone (or more accurately, the “not-quite-platonic-friend-but-not-girlfriend-zone-either”)? What will it take to get out of it? Gals, are you in the same position at times? Or is it all a crock of ish? Speak on it!

Love ya like the world loves Heidi Klum and Seal,

Cheekie

*I sweahfogawd I didn’t mean to use a phallic symbol, it just kinda… happened. Tee hee.

Man? Want.

Noted, duly.

Ah, men. They are the wind beneath my wings. The Y to my X. The ying to my yang. The organ to my organ.

O_O

Point is, I want one. Of my very own. There are plenty to choose from, but I’d like just one for me. I ain’t greedy. This is something that is constantly in the back of my mind (it moves to the front during certain times of the month) because despite how content one is with being single and independent, there’s something special about having a mate to turn to. Both figuratively and literally. Rawr.

Earlier this month, I read a post written by my sister from another mister, L Boogie entitled, “5 Reasons I Want A Man.” It was a great post and it surely inspired me to do one of my own. So, I decided to piggyback off her a bit and get on my “putting it out into the universe” steez.

So, the following are 5 (Somewhat Random) Reasons I Want A Man:

1. “I Need Love.” I mean, this may seem like a “duhhhh” reason, but I mean I specifically want affection. I’m a touchy-feely person and it’s the way I show love to the people in my life that I do love (hell, even like). I rarely ever not greet with a hug unless it’s totally inappropriate (such as in an interview* or to someone who has severe OCD or some ish). Basically, I get glee from physical contact, even the slightest bit. So, what would be better than having a dude constantly available to share in this glee with me? Nothing, that’s what. Well, I mean, if I had a bowl of ice cream involved in this, too… bonus points. Oh, and speaking of touching… must note that I love wrestling with boys. Rawr.

2. “The Gift That Keeps On Giving.” Naw, not that one. Definitely not that one. I’m a true Leo in that I’m super generous. Overly so, at times. Like my fellow coworker of the lioness persuasion said, “We love to give, but don’t you dare take.” Beaucoup truth. Anyway, I’m the type that gets more excited about surprising others with great gifts on Christmas/Birthdays/Wednesdays. You know, the kind where one can tell I was listening to them. And of course, I don’t even need to mention how much I’d adore receiving the same type of gift (which, I just did mention it), but I seriously do think the look on his face is worth every dayum thing.

3. “Oh! The Places [We'll] Go.” One common known thing about having a mate (especially one you’re married to) is that having one gives you a going-out buddy, by default. It definitely makes the search for an event buddy less of a hassle. When I can’t find someone to go somewhere with me, I’m not the type who is against going alone and I surely enjoy company in its own merit, but there is something special about being next to the person you enjoy (in your heart) while experiencing something you enjoy. Even the simplest places such as walking along the lakefront. With a man that I adore? Would all of a sudden be extraordinary.

4. “Just Look Over Your Shoulder(s), Honey. I’ll Be There!” Simply put: support. I’m the type of person to push someone else even more than I push myself (something I need to work on a bit, honestly), so I thrive on being my guy’s biggest cheerleader. In fact, you know I love you when I support your dreams to the fullest. There’s nothing much sexier than a man with drive/passion, so I have no problem pushing him even further. On the flip side, I yearn for that support of my own dreams as well. And while I have several people in my life that support me no matter what and am appreciative of that, there is something… different about a man that loves me (in that way) being by my side. Can’t really explain exactly how different, but ya’ll know what I’m talmbout. It’s just a different feeling, I guess.

5. “Round 1. Fight!” Ok, so this may seem slightly crazy (which I am, slightly), but I certainly don’t mean I yearn for full-out brawls. I mean, more so… the good-natured banter type ish. For some reason, I get off on that back-and-forth with a man. The witty insults, the sarcastic jabs… all’at. Even more so when I’m attracted to him and/or he’s my man. To have that type of communication constantly? With the dude of my desire (and I, his desire)? *swoonage*

Yup, definitely want all of this in my life. Bonus life points if it comes in the form of a Boris or an Idris.

Pinchers, do you want a mate? And if so, why? Like, have you specifically considered why you’d want one? For my taken Pinchers out there, what about having a mate do you appreciate? Let’s get all lovey-dovey up in here. Orgy swag.

Love ya like Sade loves making babymaking music,

Cheekie

*I actually haven’t tried this and I’m pretty sure, if done right — such as a slight booty grab — my interview for an entry-level position could turn into an offer for an executive position.

The List Of Buckets

I REALLY hope a bucket is next to me right before I hit the stairway to heaven. I'mma be official.

Yes, I said, “The List of Buckets.” I’d like my Bucket List to be a tad more legendary than the average Jane, thanks.

For those of you that live under a rock’s pet rock, a Bucket List is a list of things you want and/or plan to experience before you kick the (proverbial) bucket. WHY a bucket was ever likened to death is beyond me (and I’m too lazy to Wikipedia it; knowing this information is obviously NOT on my bucket list), but it is what it is. Because I’m a dramatic creature, I’d wager that I’d crane-kick my bucket. And yes, Mr. Miyagi, (RIP) will give a wise head-nod, expressing his approval.

Discussing death has never been nor will ever be an easy task. But, the concept of bucket lists has always fascinated me because even though it does acknowledge the thing we don’t wanna acknowledge, the fact that it is immersed with hope makes it okay. It gives us something to strive toward. To be our most adventurous and lively self. Basically, it gives us a nudge to actually live the life that mortality tells us isn’t forever.

So, what’s on my bucket list? I cannot eeeeeeeem share my entire list here because it’s so long (much like my infamous t-shirt idea list), but I’ll definitely share some of the highlights. Well, firstly, lemme be honest. I don’t actually have one. Written down, that is. Also like the aforementioned (and parenthesized) t-shirt list. I need to change that ASAPtually because I firmly believe in writing down the things you want to manifest in life. Maybe this will be a great start…

– Travel Internationally. I’mma wait while all ya’lls “O_O” faces adjust for a moment. Ok. That’s right, I’ve NEVER been out of the country.  Nope, not even Canada. In fact, I had never been on a plane until my early twenties. I JUST recently got my passport and I’ll tell ya why in a hot minute. First, a bit of backstory. My family was never big on travel. We never really had the means to take epic family vacations, especially since most of the time, my mother was struggling as a single parent. We pretty much did the basic Wisconsin Dells trip every now and then. Which, don’t get it twisted, we did it UP at the Dells. Anyhow. While I surely appreciate Mama Cheeks 24/7, I’m not gonna lie and say that I didn’t envy my peers who went to Florida or California. As any kid with big dreams would. However, that has changed. At the end of this month, the fam is descending upon Cancun to celebrate my niece’s high school graduation. And though it’s not THAT far away from the States, I am amped. Ya’ll don’t understand how surreal it was to get my passport in the mail a couple weeks ago. I actually kissed it. Yup, my passport went to first base. And of course, once I start traveling more, I’m gonna get hooked. The travel bug, if you will. Already planning a trip to Toronto for my born day. I have bigger and better destinations on the bucket list as well. I wanna see the world!

– Skydiving. Cliché? Sure. Give two rat’s asses that it is? Not at all. This one is near the top of my list. And I’ve already declared that I’m going to do it before I turn 30. I’ve witnessed many accounts of the skydiving experience, including a detailed play-by-play from MsEsquire as well as an actual self-taped video from Mr. Sanks. My adrenaline is doing the Tootsie Roll just thinking about it. I’ve even drafted a few folks to do it with me should I decide to for a birthday or something. Yes, Mama Cheeks is one of those people. She wild. This WILL happen.

– Disneyworld. You read that right. ME, Disney stan extraordinaire has never stepped foot in the land of Sir Mickey Mouse (Yes, I knighted him. I’m a Leo, thus a queen.). I know! I’m (figuratively) kicking myself in the face just thinking about it. But, yeah, see previous backstory about not traveling. Now ya’ll KNOW I must rectify this sooner than later. Which, I plan to do in the next year, at least. I just want to know the pure bliss of wearing a pair of Mickey Ears. I will surely do a heel-click, a Leiomy-drop, and a Rafiki goon call.

– Win an Oscar. For obvious reasons. I’m a fake starving artist screenwriter. And nothing will please me more than standing on the Kodak Theatre’s stage thanking God, my mama, my family, my friends, the Academy and my 50-lem Hollywood peers… WELL into the wrap-it up music stage while grasping a Best Original Screenplay Academy Award. And if you’re wondering, no, I don’t have my speech written down, but I DO have my opening line locked. Can’t tell ya that one because it’ll lose its sizzle. You’ll hear it on TV, though.

– Pinch Idris Elba’s Cheeks. And. You. Know. This. Mayne.

Well, it’s that time, Pinchers! What is on your bucket list? I’m intrigued! Leggo!

Love ya like Ty loves rollin’ with the homies,

Cheekie

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.

Giving Thanks And Paying Homage

*CHEEKIE NOTE*: Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day (I decided to speak on behalf of Captain Obvious today), so you know what that means? THE NEXT DAY IS BLACK FRIDAY, BISHES! Since we have beaucoup thangs to be thankful for, hopefully you’ll focus on that instead of the fact that I ain’t eem gone bring ya’ll no Friday Foolery this week because I’ll have acute super duper ‘itis all weekend. Yay, four-day weekend!* Yay, holidays! Apologies in advance.

 

Grazie.

Monday, I decided to list my favorite Thanksgiving foods. Sorry Pinchers, for making ya’ll all hungry and whatnot. (Ya’ll hear that? It’s the sounds of chirruns stomachs growling! #RentIsTooDamnHigh) So, I decided to round up the Thanksgiving week with a list of things I’m grateful for. Ya know, paying my respects for those things that make my life just a little bit better.

So… LEGGO! I’m thankful for…

– The Family. From Mama Cheekie to my big sis, Chyna. Even when we get frustrated with each other, I can always count on them. Yup, each and every one of them in a special way. I’m extra thankful that I have so many ratchet members in the fam, too. It’s in me blood, ya’ll!

– The Plantation. Ok, so I always call the main gig “the plantation”, but it’s all in good fun, peoples. In all honesty, I’m thankful I have it. Especially since I value little things such as shelter and nourishment. This most recent bout of (shocking) layoffs and the even bigger layoffs in the past (and the fact that I survived them all) reminds me every day to stop myself whenever I complain about being too busy at work or having to get up on a Monday morning. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m human and complaining is therapeutic, but ultimately, I’m happy I get a steady paycheck every two weeks. AND a bonus during the holidays! And I can’t leave out that young health insurance package. Boom! *cabbage patch*

– The Much-Needed Vacay. Which, I wrote about here. But, I wanted to express how thankful I am that I got to experience such a lovely time.

– The Crib. You know when you have one of those moments when you look around and say, “Wow, this is mine. And I’ve worked hard for it.” That’s how I feel sometimes when I’m at the crib. Especially, when I decorate a little bit. I feel all grown-up and ish. *as I call Mama to do somethin’ for me*

– The Cheeks. Yeah, both pair. They’re so pinchable! Very handy.

– The Eye Candy. The fact that ninjas like Idris Elba and Boris Kodjoe effing exist?! Makes me wanna learn how to say “thank you” in every single language ever created in the history of tongues.

– The Foolery. If not for the mass amounts of foolishness and silliness that I encounter, life wouldn’t be half as sweet as it is. The feeling I get from laughter is one of the best feelings in the world. ESPECIALLY when I laugh ’til crying. Which… I do often. The fact that there is so much ridiculous out there lets me know that there is a Gawd. I’m as sure as Sophia (that shole is a pretty name) and her pop-eye.

– The Blogosphere. If you crank your head to the left (to the left), you’ll see a list of blogs that get me through the work day. Before you hover over my shoulder like a micro-manager, YES, I do get my work done and I’m productive, I’ve just mastered the skill of multitasking via multiple tabs/windows. You mad? Honorable Mention: Gchat folks. Ya’ll know who you is.

And last but most certainly not least…

– The Readers. About seven months ago, I decided to expand the tome-ass comments I would leave at various blogs and make some use of my thoughts. Who-da thunk, that this would be like work? Seriously, I admire ya’ll ninjas who turn in a new post EVERY day. I be pulling my hair out trying to get a new post three days a week. ESPECIALLY on Sunday night. But, you know who makes it all worth it? Ya’ll. My Pinchers! *does a drive-by pinch on all ya’ll* The fact that folks I’ve never met are reading my thoughts makes me sorta giddy inside. Which is pretty sappy and Carl Thomas emotional, but hey, I’m a Leo. Dramatical is what I does. Special shout-out to Max for providing me with the fabulous experience of witnessing a Pincher read my blog post live when we were in Miyamuh. The way she laughed gave me SO much life. Shit was surreal.

I’m thankful for a ton of things. I’m even sitting here being all neurotic because I’m sure I forgot some things. Pinchers, do me a favor and share some of yours so I can just piggyback off it. Thanks! <<< See, what I did there?! o_O

Seriously, though, let’s all bond over giving thanks. And paying homage to those who make you feel as blessed as I feel right now. Lil’ Kim will be proud.

Have a wonderful and pinchworthy**, Thanksgiving!

 

Love ya like Tasha Mack loves tacos,

Cheekie

 

 

 

*If one of you heauxs try to one-up air-body and say some ish like, “Well, ahem, I actually have a FIVE day weekend”, best believe I will give you the side-eye of hateration. Yeah, that’s right, all up IN THIS DANCERY.
**Which, it probably will be pinchworthy because lawd knows we’re gonna produce all KINDS of love handles this weekend. SMH…

“OCD” Stands For “Odd Cheekie Disorder”

I know ya'll new Millennium ninjas like Monk, but this dude is my favorite OCD-depicted person.

That’s right, I’m talmbout that Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Well, actually no I’m not. I’m talking about “OCD tendencies.” OCD is a legit disorder and I don’t want to make light of it by calling whatever neuroses I have…actual OCD. Allow me to reintroduce myself, my name is Joe Camel take the time to note this disclaimer: I have not been formerly diagnosed with this disorder, nor am I trying to be an OCD spokesperson. I am not.

Damn, that reads professional. *pops collar*

Anywho, I’ve had a nice amount of conversations in my lifetime and a lot of them have centered around having OCD tendencies. It amazes me how weird you think you are when you think you’re alone becomes not so weird when you realize you’re not. Don’t get it twisted, the shit is still weird. It’s just more of us are weirder than we think. I can’t even begin to tell you how many people have similar, if not the same, quirks as me. Hell, some have topped me.*

With that said, I want to share a few of my neurotic quirks or OCD tendencies…

- The Double- (or triple…or quadruple) Check. Similar to the real-deal disorder, I usually do this when I’m really anxious about something else going on in my life. Ok, so, I’m not a morning person. Anyone who knows me or has gotten my squinty-eyed death glare during the train commute to work knows this. I cannot — I repeat, it is effing impossible for me to — wake up in the morning for work without an alarm clock. And not the radio station alarm clock, I’m talmbout that blaring annoying alarm noise. You know the one that shrieks like a banshee? I sleep right through the radio station music. It is music to my ears, naturally. But, that jarring alarm noise makes me jump right the hell up. I give you all that exposition to say, I probably check my clock to see if I’ve set the alarm/set the correct time probably 20 times before I actually doze off into my sweet slumber. I’ll check it, lie there in bed for a few moments, then check it again, knowing full well that I just checked it and that I’m absolutely sure it’s set. I do this with locks as well. I’ll check to see if I locked my door about 50-lem times, too. This doesn’t happen as often. Interestingly (and understandably) enough, I usually only go through these spells after I’ve seen a scary movie or some alarming event on the local news. Nuts.

- The Step. You’re probably asking, “WTF does that even mean? The Step…” Well, I’ll be happy to turn my head from watching stupid reality shows to explain it to you. First off, I was trying to be all deep and cryptic with this particular little intro title. Didn’t work. I’m still shallow. Lemme put it like this. I cannot STAND stepping in gross ish. Now, I know everyone is like, “Duh, no one does!”, but mine is a little bit more extreme. When I say “gross ish”, I mean everything from spit (commonly-shared sentiment) to dried gum (not-so-commonly-shared sentiment). It’s a shame because I live in a big city full of both. You Bodie-hawkers need to swallow a bomb…is all I’m gonna say about that. As for the dried gum, I have no idea why I don’t like it as it’s harmless (unlike fresh, sticky gum), but I hate stepping on it when walking. I always try to avoid it whenever I can. I have this thing about stuff being under my shoes period, but the dried gum can’t possibly get under my shoe. I just don’t like stepping on it. It grosses me the hell out. Yup, still nuts.

- The Order of Arrangement. My girl Nick inspired this particular addition. She mentioned on my recent post about food that she arranges her Starburst from least desirable to most desirable before eating and I’m like, “ZOMG! Me too! Zoinks!” I kinda wished I actually said exactly that. Anyhow, I do that and not just with candy. And not just with flavors. In fact, just today, after returning from a grocery store shopping trip and putting away my food, I arranged my yogurt cartons in order of expiration date. Soonest in the front (for easier access), latest in the back. I want to eat the yogurt with the soonest expiration date first, of course. On the real, this is effing nuts. Why am I mentioning nuts so much today? I am so fast. *slaps back of hand*

I think that’s enough about me…for now. I probably have enough quirks to list a “part deux” (which I might do), but my fingers are crying out for rest. Yes, their cries do indeed sound like Mario in case you’re wondering.

So, stop side-eyeing me/confirming my craziness and feel free to share some of your neurotic quirks. Get all Woody Allen on me. Without the perviness. Keep the creativity, though. What makes my Pinchers quirky? Number one: Actually reading this foolish ass blog.

Love ya like Eddie Long loves to “mentor” young lads,

Cheekie

P.S. Beaucoup points to any Pincher who can quote from the movie where today’s post comes from! Unlimited thousand trillion points if it happens to be my favorite. Hint: it’s said by Jack’s character. *as know one cares about any of these figurative points*

*Yousonasty.

Tight.

*CHEEKIE NOTE*: Today is a good day. At ten minutes after ten o’clock in the morning, twenty-six years ago, Mama Cheekie produced the most pinchable cheeks this side of the universe. *As everyone leyomi-drops in celebration simultaneously* I’ve wanted to write the following post for a good while now, but I’m more than sure that today is the day. A perfect day. Happy birfday to me. *hugs self* I will be eagerly awaiting my Chanel purse in the mail from one (or a conglomerate) of my pinchers by the way. o_O Yeah, I’ll be a waiting heffa. Anyhow, let’s get on with this…

Hey.

I wanna cut to the chase, but allow me to activate my Borat voice:

*Borat Voice*

I’m a virgine. “A virgin”, in American.

Many of you may be aware of this already as I’ve talked about it throughout the e-land, but for the sake of drama (I’m a Leo, so I loves it), please re-enact the above animated picture at your computer screen. I’ll wait.

…

Ok.

So, I know I’m amongst the rarest of rare these days. A unicorn, if you will. What makes me even rarer is that the reason I’ve chosen to remain one up to this point has nothing to do with religion. Please don’t get me wrong, I do believe in God…I just don’t subscribe to any particular religious organization. Picture me checking “spiritual” when filling out forms/surveys. Hey! I see you picturing me and checking out my booty as I fill out the form. Uncouth self.

Anyhow.

My reason is simple: I’m waiting for love. Not necessarily marriage (Call me “open” other possibilities…well, not in that way yet, but…you know what I mean), just love. I’ve never been in it before. I may explore in the future why that is (I have my non-professional, non-Freudian theories) on this blog, but the fact is, I haven’t experience it yet. Never been in love. I am not so naive to expect a fantasy. Meaning, the perfect guy. I know that doesn’t exist. But like any other girl… like any other woman who makes this decision, I’ll just know. And, sure, that phrase is as cliché as the rich girl falling for the scrappy guy from the wrong side of the tracks who happens to look like he jumped out of a Calvin Klein ad, but it’s truth. It’s not something I can exactly pinpoint. Not something that makes me say, “If so and so happens this particular way, I’ll do it.” I’ll just know.

For those of you playing at home, I’m human. I know I’ve just disappointed roughly 3 people who thought I was a spam robot. Sorry, flesh and bones up in this piece. Due to being human, I often get sexually frustrated. We all have our moments of weakness. I just believe that the way in which you respond and act to these moments define who you are. Now, I’m not saying that one decision is right and the other is wrong in the general sense, I just know what’s right and/or wrong for me. Which may be different for you. Or her. Or him. Or whatever Lady Gaga is. Which brings me to my next point…

The reactions I get to my admission are interesting in one way and hilarious in another. Most of the time I get reactions similar to, “Wow, that’s great! *applause*” Aw, thanks. *curtsies* But, on the serious tip, I don’t expect accolades. As I said above, I’m doing what’s right for me. I believe folks that congratulate me are doing so out of reflection of their own personal experiences and I get that. Valid. I just want to make clear that I’m not expecting a Tightness Parade or anything like that for keeping a nickel in between my legs. Another reaction I often get (and this is more so on the internets) is, “Wow, you don’t seem like a virgin!” That one tickles me. I think The Champ said it best, when I revealed to the VSB e-fam of my virginity, (and I’m paraphrasing here) “LOL, ya’ll act like virgins don’t have a personality or something.” Ha!

I think part of the surprise has to do with my — for lack of any actual word — “open-mindness” about sex. I may not be having it yet, but best believe I’m no prude. In fact, I have a pretty healthy relationship with sex, as a topic. I’m open to talking about it without blushing, I have no pre-conceived notions about those who have it all willy-nilly, and I just believe it to be an overall great thing. To discuss and to have. Safely, of course. Yes, all of this is true, even though I’ve never experienced it with another warm body. Of course, you may be assuming that I have quite the sexual relationship with myself. Yeah, you’d assume correctly. You know the term “I’m feeling myself?” Yeah, I’m an expert at it in the literal sense. Told ya’ll I’m human.

On another note, I wonder sometimes if folks in the e-world (who haven’t seen me) think I look like Predator’s fifth cousin twice removed or something. Hell, even if I did…that has nothing to do with the price of tea at Starbucks in a bougie neighborhood. If Flava Flav (admittedly worse looking than anyone in Predator’s family) can get play, anyone can get play. Trust, I have my options. I’ve had to turn down several. And there’s the point. I’ve chosen. I have a choice in this. A choice that — when I make it in favor of “make like Nike and just do it” — becomes one I won’t regret.

As for the four other people in the world who are still virgins, I tell you this: Do you. In every sense of the phrase. Up to this point, you have experienced frustration, peer pressure, moments of weakness…all’at. And you still haven’t caved to any of it. That’s good for you. And I mean, that…for you. When your time comes it’ll be the right time for you. I’m of the firm belief that everything happens just the way it’s supposed to. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have happened. There are no coincidences, no mistakes. Every choice we make to do something or not do something has shaped us into who we are today. And there’s no mistake in that. Sure, we have regrets about choices we’ve made. Or didn’t make (a choice in and of itself, I’m guessing). But, we all have to step back and remember that every experience is a learning one. It’s one that shapes and molds us into who we are…and who we are yet to become.

So, I wrap this up like a condom to say this is for you, superstah11, who sent me an email telling me how I, unbeknownst to me at the time, inspired you (and making my day). This is for you, teen girl at high school that feels in 2010 (where sex roams freer than a marketing sample), she is the only one. This is for you, young man that is battling his hormones as well as the very idea that all men lose their virginity by the time they’re legal. This is for you, my pinchers.

This is for me.

Love ya like the internet loves to be the home of free porn,

Cheekie