Category: cuteness kills

Okay I have to take a moment to shout out one of my friends that making the magic happen despite all the drama and confusion going on with this unstable economy… my girl Melissa.

After I don’t know how many years of talking about her love (borderline obsession) of beautiful lingerie and putting my cotton 3-pack loving behind up on to some of the best places to cop cute undies on a budget( anyone?), last Thursday Melissa’s e-commerce site Dames And Broads, finally went live. WOO HOO!!!
Based on her belief that women have a God given right to look and feel sexy each day (can I get an amen?), Dames and Broads is designed to bring affordable, decadent and wearable internationally designed lingerie to the masses. Read: for all ya’ll who are three steps above Victoria Secret but not exactly ready to part with La Perla cash.
So feel free to finally toss that pair of period drawers with the snapped elastic wasitband in the trash and step your sexy up. You know, Michelle would want you to!

I see I’m not the only one who doesn’t like it when people show up at my apartment unannounced…

Apparently,a panda bear bit the crap out of a man who jumped in his pen to retrieve a toy that had fallen over the railing at the Beijing Zoo. Daaaammmmn… I thought panda were suppossed to be friendly, social-type creatures.

But bigger than the panda with an attitude, WHY was this man able to simply HOP a little fence?? What in the world? WHY was the fence that low?

And please don’t tell me it’s so people can get up close and personal with nature. Cause THAT is not nature. Not even on a dare. THAT is a wild animal that’s been caged up AGAINST it’s will for our amusement. What would make you think they’re remotely happy to see you? Mmm-hmmm, like ELsa used to tell me- keep playin’ if you want to.

Personally, my scary behind will take a good ole American zoo with triple layers of plexiglass and the sky-high electric fence enclosure with enough voltage to shock that ass to death if a strand of hair brushes against it any day of the damn week. If and when I want so see some “nature” I’ll go chill in Central Park and watch the shirtless white boys play football in the dead of winter. That’s enough wildlife for me, thank you very much.

Anyhoo, as usual, in the last 48 hours of the year I am running around trying to do all the things that should’ve been accomplished in the past 363 days. I’m trying to make returns, drop-offs at the Goodwill, find a new desk, clean the apartment from top to bottom, workout and of course, find the perfect dress for New Year’s Eve.

Which is exactly why instead of peacefully enjoying my “stay-cation” inside my apartment, I was out in the streets and visually assaulted at every turn with what I consider the biggest fashion offense of the year- rib-cage length cropped winter coats and sweater (a.k.a. the reinvented shrug). Yeah I said it. That bullshit needs to GO.

Seriously, what the hell is the purpose of this half assed cover-up? Especially when it’s your winter coat?? Just so I’m clear- you’ve got the long sleeves and and hood with the fur but not the actual coat part? Call me anal but doesn’t that defeat the purpose of the coat concept? Wait, lemme guess, only your boobs get cold in the winter?
I can’t.
And for the record, at five feet flat, I’m a huge fan of the standard waist-length cropped coats/ jackets/ sweaters/whatever. But NO ONE looks good in those Forever 21/ 5-7-9/ Marshalls bargain bin specials.

I don’t care if you’re not “fat” or eventechnically “chubby”- if you ain’t anerexic or rocking the certified six-pack, your stomach will poke out from under that mess. It will jiggle when you walk. It is sloppy and yes, you do look a hot ass mess.

Let the prayer circles commence, I’m tagging out.

Okay, I need to start by saying that it was FREEZING outside on Saturday.

No, not cold like “you should probably wear your hat” cold. It was more like “you should probably stay your behind inside” type weather going on out there. I know for a fact that when I turned on NY1, the temp said 26 degrees. How-some-ever, you’ll be happy to know…. WE DID IT.

Me and my girls dragged our lazy behinds (well, almost all of them… There were some casualties that fell off along the way- LISA, MELISSA, TRICIA) down to the Central Reservoir and completed the first ever Race To Save Our Thighs.

I wish I could give you a blow-by-blow about the whole experience but unfortunately my brain was frozen for the majority of the time we were out there. So aside from Charreah frontin’ hard like her alarm didn’t go off when we all know you were trying to get out of it, Marissa’s gloves getting stolen at the Starbucks on 125th/ Lennox before she even arrived at the starting line, Toya spiking her water bottle with some GNC Jesus juice, Sharae trying to simultaneously jog and hide her face from the video camera (yes, Toya’s hubby-to-be, Dre a.k.a Drill Captain also braved the cold to bring the camcorder) and my ankles feeling like they were going to shatter into a million pieces with every frozen step; I can’t remember much.

No worries, as soon as we get all the scenes where I’m panting like a wildebeast and Toya’s nose is running like a leaky faucet edited out, I’ll put the video up for you all to enjoy (read: laugh at). Promise.



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