I was really hoping that the Chicago police would find Jennifer Hudson’s nephew Julian King. I kept delaying my post about the situation because I was convinced that somehow, some way, that the innocent 7 year-old boy was going to be okay. Unfortunately not. And so my thoughts go out to Jennifer Hudson and her family for the multiple losses they suffered this past weekend. I pray that at some point they will all be able to heal and recover.

Oh my god, is it just me or has the temperature dropped like 20 degrees in 2 minutes?? I always know that it’s officially winter when instead of sunshine on my face the sound of the extra loud hood radiator spewing project heat wakes me up in the mornings. Sigh… thermal underwear, dry skin, and sporadic nose bleeds soon come. Don’t be jealous.

But to be honest, I knew this moment was coming a couple of nights ago when I was standing around in some BK bar celebrating my Harlem homegirl/ workout partner Sharae’s dirty 30th bday and it was FREEZING inside there. I mean seriously? Why was it cold inside the spot? When good company and a couple glasses of cheap champagne don’t help to warm me up in the middle of a relatively full room of people (what you know about that Andre Champagne??), there’s freaking problem. I guess this is why so many folks get pregnant during the winters. ‘Cause mark my words- can’t nothing good happen outside the crib when it’s cold.

Stay warm people. Oh and if you get sick, no offense but puh-lease stay away from me.

So after three and a half long years in my apartment, I am finally ending my love/ hate relationship with the eclectic, DIY decor theme (read: haphazard, whatever works) that I’ve assembled and completely redecorating all the major rooms. Recession be damned; I’m talking new paint, new furnishings, and an all over new grown and sexy attitude. Are you with me?

I know I’m probably going to hell for this but I gotta say, I find it so amusing when prominent pinktoes fall apart in public. I’d like to think it’s less about race and more about equality. African American are repeatedly getting put on blast for the ignorance (hello, Jesse Jackson). So a little balance is always appreciated. I know, I know… Whatever I need to say to make myself feel better. So what I’m having a moment!

I can’t believe Bernie Mac is dead. Like seriously, he was only 50 years old!! I don’t want to put my Elsa’s business out there like that but seeing his age made my nerves bad enough to call her constantly complaining of old age behind IMMEDIATELY.

for a washer and dryer. Like seriously, my definition of ‘happily-ever-after’ is a top of the line washer and dryer inside my apartment. Forget the husband, baby and white picket fence (watching all the bad ass kids cut up in the supermarkets cured me of all that)… I’m talking, can’t sleep at four in the morning? Go ahead and throw that single pair of jeans in the machine so that even if I’m grumpy, I’ll still look sexy.

I read a recent article in the New York Times, that exposed how even the uber wealthy are starting to feel the strain of this recession that isn’t really happening according to the Bush Administration. Apparently, the wealthy are selling off rarely worn jewelry to high end hock shops, down grading from the Gulfstream to Lear jets and even going so far as to declare brunette the new blonde (because the cost of getting a decent highlight is too much). But the struggle for them is two-fold. Because when you’re shall we say, financially challenged to begin with, no one really turns a head if you become poorer. When you’re at the top, the tumble is a little more humiliating. Apparently, the anxiety of keeping the summer house when you are barely making the private school tuition payments is driving the Jones to drink.