Friday, November 28, 2003

Now You Know I (Toya) Had To Talk About This...



Marshall, Marshall, Marshall ...

For those that don't know, Benzino and David Mays of The Source magazine have had it out for Em for some time this year. The Source put out an issue earlier this year about the bleek future of hip hop and pointed towards The Great White Hype as one of the leading causes of its downfall. So I am sure when 3 Detroit natives walked into the offices of The Source and hand delivered a tape of Eminem using the riot inciting n-word, Benzino and Mays' joy was equivalent to giving a fat kid free reign at a Krispy Kreme Donuts shop. Here are some of the lyrics:

And all the girls that I like to bone
Have the big butts, no they don’t
‘Cause I don’t like that nigga s***
I’m just here to make a bigger hit


I seen a Black girlfriend and I kissed her
I kissed her; I placed it on her cheek
And she didn’t come back til next week
Now it was next week and she was back again
Wanting to kiss a white kid
So she was my girlfriend, we started going out
But that’s okay because we were Black and white
Blacks and whites they sometimes mix
But Black girls only want your money cause they’re dumb chicks


I won't bore you with the rest of the lyrics but if you are interested, click on www.thesource.com. They are all too eager to not only give you the lyrics but also the audio and have promised to include a CD of these songs in their next issue. Now that I have updated you, let's open up the discussion:

I am by no means an Eminem fan. A coworker recently asked me about Eminem and I said that I can't get down with anyone that talks about their mother the way he does. This is a man that had a whole crowd singing F*** You, Debbie (his mom) at one of his concerts, has made songs where he talks of raping his male cousin (Amityville), another violently,sickening, graphic song about murdering the mother of his child (Kim) and another song threatening to put Anthrax on some woman's tampax (Superman). Why in the world would something like this surprise me? Sure, there is a chance that he no longer feels this way about black women and would never again call a black person a nigga. There is also a chance that for the low, low price of $59.95, I can sell you a nice piece of swampland in the Arizona desert. My point is this: Eminem is about shock value. I fully believe that if he could make money saying this outright in the year 2003, he sure as heck would. He knows that if he truly feels this way about black women, he bet not voice it because he will lose his credibilty with black rappers and he can't afford that. I mean no one can genuinely afford an ass whuppin' per se,(that is exactly what it would come down to) but it is the street credibility that is keeping him from going the way of Vanilla Ice.

In Em's defense (did I just say that?) he made this tape a long time ago. There is a bunch of mess that is happening RIGHT NOW that needs to be addressed. Just turn on BET and MTV or listen to the radio. Where were Benzino and David Mays when Snoop Dogg had black women on leashes? This is NOT about Eminem disrespecting black women. This is about a loophole that they have been praying for to oust him out of hip hop. If it weren't, someone should have let a fresh can of Whoop Ass rip on fellow Detroit native Kid Rock for what he said on his last album.

In Black Chick, White Guy, Bob, as we unaffectionately call Kid Rock around our house, wrote the sordid tale of him and his black baby's mama. Like to hear it? Hear it go:

Now as time went on the the two kept on
They kept seeing each other off and on
See she moved to the city and you know what happened
Black chick with a real white accent
Pretty girl in the ghetto go figure
Yeah she got macked by some dope dealin nigger
Still seein that other kid on the side
She kept most of her thoughts inside
See all the first guy did was just love her
While that punk mother ****** used to beat her and punch her


Screeeeeeeech, HALT! "Dope dealin' NIGGER"? Oh REALLY Bob? I could have arrived at this joke of a press conference that The Source set up about this whole Eminem thing with a power point presentation, audio and video of this Kid Rock song and they could not have cared less. This matter with Eminem doesn't have an ounce to do with the disrespect of black people particularly black women. What exactly the beef is, I don't know. I will tell you this: if Eminem owes black people, particularly black women an apology as Benzino has said then he can get behind the following people: Snoop Dogg, Too Short, Cash Money Millionaires, Ludacris, Dr. Dre, The Yinga Yang Twins, BET (go on and tell Bob Johnson to take a number and get in line too), MTV, Universal, Def Jam, Lyor Cohen, Uncle Luke, and on and on and on and on and on...

But enough talk. We need action. And honestly, with all of this going on, the person I am most disappointed in is myself. I do a lot of complaining about how bad radio is but I have not written one letter. We need to do something and we need to do it now. I am sickened by the lack of accountability within our community. Even on this site we talked about Snoop Dogg at the VMA's and a BLACK WOMAN commented on how we were just hatin' and wished we could take someone on stage with us at the awards. You have got to be kidding me. So with all that said, what do we do now?

Tuesday, November 18, 2003

Because I know you're wondering

I (tia) figured it was coming. Someone asked, "What is it with Tia and the Brit Boys?" Well, lest you wander to your own erroneous conclusions, let me set your mind at ease. It's the accent. Nothing more, nothing less. I wish I could say it was something of substance, but it's not. The fact that they walk around saying things like "Love" as in, "H'ya doin', Love" just floors me.

And I would like to make a request. You guys know that I love EVERYBODY, regardless. But if anyone knows of any Brit BROTHAS, PLEASE let me know.

Okay on a completely different note, check out this link that a friend of mine sent. It will make you feel old if you were a gamer way back in the day. But it will also crack you up. I had tears rolling down my face when I read this. It is freakin' hilarious. And a little scary. Pre-teens should not be this witty.

Saturday, November 15, 2003

Sorry Steve, another Brit Boy

FOR NICOLE

ummm...yeah
Jonathan Rhys-Meyers

First I'd like to send shout-outs to Nicole for bringing Jonathan to the table. I recently purchased Bend It Like Beckham, a must have for anyone who loves the Brits like I do. There is a scene where Jonny comes to the door to call on Jess, the lead character, and let me just say.....WOW. Toya and I SCREAMED. We weren't ready. There was no warning, no indication whatsoever that he was going to be standing there looking like....THAT. Go watch it for yourself.

I know very little about Jon (mainly b/c I was too caught up looking for pictures of him to read up on him.) He was born the day I was supposed to be born (July 27, 1977). He's very musically inclined. And if you do a picture search of his name on Google, there are a couple of pictures of him and some "colored" girl. Indian not black. But colored none the less.

Anyway, I'd like to personally welcome Jon to the Brit Boy Hall of Fame. You're gonna love it here.

In case you're interested




Friday, November 14, 2003

It's official....

March 31st-April 7th yours truly (tia) will be in LONDON, baby, LONDON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am so excited. There will be SOOOOOO many stories. So much shopping (I'm gonna tear a path in Harrod's.) So many BRIT BOYS!!!!

I might not come back. My company has an office just outside the city. I'm 'bout to be universal and world wide.
And I hear sistahs are the thing to be in the UK. I'm freakin' giddy.

Y'all wanna come?
Tia’s Conundrum
(It’s been a while, I know)

My last post got me thinking.

If I were forced into excel, stranded on a desert island, or for some other unfathomable reason required to live out my days away for civilization, what 5 cds would I take?

This is a question that has no answer. EVER. I could never decide. I would go nuts just trying to choose. I can’t even go out of town for a day without taking 20 cds. I was in Baltimore today. I flew out this morning at 7a.m and I’m writing this on the plane ride home at 9p.m. I will have only been on planes for 4 ½ hours, tops, and I was in the car for an hour and a half and that’s only because I got stuck in rush hour traffic this evening. The rest of the time I was at the hospital working. I took at least 12 cds with me for the day. Why? Because there is always the fear that you’re going to want to listen to something and you’re not have it. Now granted, on this particular junket I only listened to 4 of the 12 cds I brought with me, but it’s the principle of the thing. What if I’d wanted to listened to Raze’s “Oh How I Need You” and not had it? I’d rather have too many than too few.

So I pose this query: If you could only have 5 cds for the rest of your days what would you pick?

I cannot believe that I even asked this question. But I want other people to suffer like I have trying to weed down their collections of hundreds to FIVE.

The only rule is that multi-disc sets DO NOT count as ONE cd. So if you choose Stevie Wonder’s “At The Close of a Century” that’s 4 cds. Not one.

Happy choosing.
It’s good to be got
By Tia


I was watching “The Good Girl” starring Jennifer Aniston and some other random people last Wednesday on my lunch break. Before I go any further let me say that this isn’t a movie I recommend. I got sucked in and had to know how it ended. My predictions were that someone would get pregnant and that someone would die. Needless to say, I was flowing in the prophetic when it came to the movie. There was in fact a pregnancy and a death. Anyway, the whole premise of the movie is that two randomly odd people get to know each other and oddly enough they realize that they “get” each other, or so it would seem at the onset. It later turns out that one of them is a chemically imbalanced manic-depressive and the other is just bored. Not really a winning combination. Like I said, I don’t recommend it. What drew me into the movie is initially it seems as if by some strange twist of fate, two people with the same quirky idiosyncrasies have found each other. They now have someone who gets them. They understand one another and they subsequently realize that it’s good to be got.

On numerous occasions, I’ve have touted my weirdness. It is also no secret that I would like to get married some time during my childbearing potential years. But there have been many times when a panic creeps in. It’s slow at first, almost undetectable. It usually begins when I make a random reference to an obscure Prodigy song that is blasting in the background at White Boy Fest 2003 (also known as Tony Hawk’s Boom Boom Huck Jam, story by Toya, forthcoming) or when I choose to watch a documentary on the Titanic or when I stay up until 4 in the morning playing Number Stumper on my Speak&Math. The panic creeps around to the frays of my mind until it becomes a full-fledged multi-firing synapse. I wonder, “WHO’S GOING TO GET ME?” There is some random guy out there who’s going to see me, get to know me and all of my nuttiness and decided he likes me best…? Seriously?!?

I am the most random person I know. There was a running joke on my hall in college. Talking to me was like driving stick on uneven terrain: you have to constantly change gears. I have the most random thoughts. I do the most random things. And Lord knows I say the most random stuff, sometimes to my own chagrin. (Please reference my post from August 19th) And I guess because, I’m not the coolest chick I know, and I’m prone do odd things I wonder who’s going to get me. I wonder if my roommates really get me. I wonder if the relationships of yon didn’t last because the guys finally got beyond the flawless skin, beautifully arranged features and million watt smile (You’re so vain….you prob’ly think this song is about you) and realized, “that girl is weird.” I wonder if Toya upon our initial meeting thought she’d moved in with a mad woman. I wonder if after 30 years of marriage my husband is going to turn over in the middle of the night and say,”Princess (YES he will call me PRINCESS) I love you but, whoa, you are odd” and then roll over and go back to sleep.

There is a caveat of sorts. I know that there are other people out there like me. And that knowledge keeps me from moving to an island and secluding myself forever, or at least until I run out of batteries and have to make a trip to the mainland to stock up again. One of my closest friends from college, Brian, has the illness I suffer from. He’s even gone so far as to give it a name: Retarditity. I think the reason Brian and I get along so well is because we get each other. We know the other person’s limits. We know when to say when. And it’s good that way. Brian didn’t look at me weird when I wanted to sand wood for any hour. He just gave me some goggles, a piece of wood and an electric sander and went and did other boy things whilst I took to task. Toya may not be a carrier of the retarditity gene but she is sympathetic to plight of those with it. She simply smiled and shook her head when I hung my union jack flag (that’s the British flag for those who didn’t know) in the corner of my room and ran around the house humming the British national anthem.

They say that there’s someone for everyone. I believe that. I believe that somewhere out there, beneath the pale moonlight (I’m sorry I couldn’t help it. And even if I hadn’t y’all would have been thinking it anyway) there is someone who’s going to get me. There are friends to be made who will understand my reference to THE COAT. There’s someone who will revel in the fact that I thoroughly enjoy watching Steven from the Real World slap Irene (so much so that the last time I saw it I sled off the couch with my arms in the air squealing with glee.) There are people out there who won’t raise an eyebrow when I make random references to carrier pigeons as a legitimate form of communication. And when I find those people, I will gather them all at an undisclosed location and we will begin plotting our strategy for world domination. I already know you’re going to want to be down.

Friday, November 7, 2003

Perpetual Toys R Us Kid
By Tia

I guess the title is a little deceiving. We all know the song, “I don’t want to grow up, I’m a Toys R Us Kid.” Well it’s not that I don’t want to grow up, it’s that I can’t seem to grow up. Now don’t get me wrong, I have no desire to be one of those people who are staunch, stuffy, uptight and boring. I could never do that. But at some point I would like to stop forgetting that I’m not 22 anymore. It would be nice to not feel like I just left college last year since it’s been almost four years.

I was having a “moment.” I was at the fall festival that my church has every Halloween and I was, shall we say “caught up” and not in the good way. I was looking around and I began to notice that a lot of the people that I used to hang with seemed to have metamorphosed into real live grown-ups. This guy I had a crush on for about 3 minutes now has a wife. (I’m going to be really honest. I can’t even really talk to the guy now. Although he never knew I had a crush on him, I KNOW. And I’m down right embarrassed because basically I had a crush on someone’s husband. I know it doesn’t make sense since he wasn’t a husband then, but how often do I say stuff that doesn’t make sense? Often enough that you should know by now to just smile and nod and keep on reading.) A couple I know went to grad school in California last year and now they’re back and she looks like she was due YESTERDAY. I didn’t even know she was pregnant. Another girl I know is buying a condo. In the four years I’ve known her all she’s talked about is buying a house for herself and her son. And now she’s doing it. And the list goes on and on. My last road dog from college got married last year. My clubbin’ buddy from college just had a baby. That is scary. The same girl who was on the platform with me droppin’ it like it was hot, in Italy no less, is now a wife AND mother. Oh Lord.

Anyway, in my moment of panic I called Toya and explained that I’m just not a grown-up. She calmly explained to me that I am in fact a grown-up, just look at the bills I pay. And God bless her for trying, but if paying bills makes one an adult than I’ve been an adult since I was 16. I started working at 14 and got a legitimate job at 16 to support my music habit. I worked 2 jobs most of the time I was in college and had my own apartment by my junior year. But somehow through all of that I still don’t feel like an adult. What is that about?

I shared all of this with my friend Angela and she being as wise as she is plainly asked, “Do you feel this way because things don’t seemed to have changed much for you since you left college?” Have you ever had a revelation? It’s just how it’s portrayed in the cartoons. The sky opens up. Light shines down on you. And angels sing, birds chirp and harps play. Okay that may be a bit of an exaggeration. But that’s how I felt. I realized that I hadn’t had what I thought were the great adult defining milestones in my life: Marriage, House, Kids, Vacations…etc. But then I began to look even further. Who says that those things make you an adult? I know babies who have babies. I’ve seen seemly grown-up people make childlike decisions and destroy their adult covenant of marriage. I’ve seen first hand how people trying to find definition through expensive real estate have subsequently put themselves in a really adult situation: bankruptcy. And I have to wonder after the dust had settled, after the diapers had been changed, after the argument about the trash not being taken out had ended, did any of those things make them feel more like the adult they thought they should be or did they still feel like a little kid playing house?

I guess being an adult comes with time. It takes more time for some than it does for others. I may not be the poster child for what some might consider an adult. Yes, I still play video games on the regular. I watch cartoons every weekend. I sleep with a Winnie the Pooh. I have Spiderman Underoos. Okay, I wish I had Spiderman Underoos. But I also work 40+ hours a week. I don’t have to ask my parents for anything. And I won’t have to get a permission slip signed to leave the country in April. So maybe I haven’t completely left childhood behind but who’s to say you have to. Maybe being a child at heart is not as weird as Michael Jackson has made it out to be. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll wake up and realize that the man in the shower, the kids down the hall, the SUV in the driveway and the overflowing out box at the office didn’t make me a grownup after all, they just make me a big kid with more stuff.


Thank you Jesus/Even when you see us just as we are/Fragile and frail and so far from who we want to be
Thank you Jesus/Even when the pieces are broken and small/Dreams shatter and scatter like the wind/Thank you even then

Nichole Nordeman-Even Then

Wednesday, November 5, 2003

THE COAT OPENS TODAY....


Toya and I could write Ph.D worthy dissertations on The Coat that Keanu Reeves wore in The Matrix Reloaded and will wear today in The Matrix Revolutions. Due to time constraints it will have to wait. But just know that The Coat is more than you know.

Sunday, November 2, 2003

Further Random Thoughts
By Tia

I’ve had a request from one of the IT guys at work. He would like to have a section of the blog dedicated to “white IT guys in Tennessee like us.” UMMMMM….Yeah

Is anyone else sick of Ashton Kutcher? I don’t know if it’s just me or if it’s a general consensus. But there is just something about the kid that bothers me. Maybe it’s because he hangs with the grand wizard of hip-hop, Sean Combs or maybe it’s just who he is in general. He’s never done anything to me personally but for some reason I just don’t care for him.

Whatever you do, you MUST pick up a copy of this month’s Details Magazine. The header is “What Makes Keanu Cry?” GOOOODNESSSS

Why does Francis Bean look so much like her dad, Kurt Cobain?


Am I wrong for not feeling bad for Kobe Bryant? I don’t at all. He wouldn’t be in all this trouble if he’d kept the little general at the post. I don’t know if he raped that girl and I don’t think any of us ever will. But whatever happens he kinda brought it on himself don’t you think? It’s unfortunate that his image is tarnished. It’s unfortunate that his endorsement deals are gone. (He should have read the fine print in those endorsement deals contracts. Companies are now including “good behavior” clauses in contracts. Basically, if you’re naughty your endorsement deals can be yanked. No questions asked.) It’s unfortunate that his marriage could be irrevocably ruined. BUT all of the “unfortunateness” (I know that's not a real word) could have been avoided. So maybe I’m just cold and callused but I don’t really feel bad for him. I do feel bad for the Kobe’s wife, Kobe’s daughter, the girl (If she was actually raped) and X-tina. (You like that segue don’t you?)

Why do I feel bad for X-tina you ask? What have all of the headlines been about? Britney and Madonna. X-tina has apparently ho’ed herself to such a significant degree that she can make out with the princess of darkness and no one even thinks twice about it. So you are so freaktacular that you kiss the woman who has kissed every stank person in the free world (remember Dennis Rodman) and no one bats an eye? Boo-boo, I’m so sorry. Come on home.

There is a guy near me on the plane who is clearing balding and he is rocking a thin curly pony tale. WHY WHY WHY?!?!?! Let it go. Crop that up and rock the short hair like my man Sean Connery.


I was watching the bootleg version of Cribs, How I’m Living, and they were featuring the house of that Asian kid from Smilez and Southstar. Okay, it was just wrong, especially since MTV was touring Shaq’s house on the next station. Now I’m not going to front. My man had a cute little starter home somewhere in Florida. But it was the irony of it all that was cracking me up. Shaq was showing us the biggest bed known to man. Southstar was bragging about his queen size “where the magic takes place.” Shaq was showing us his movie theater. Southstar was showing us his 26” in the bedroom. Complete with VCR, “because sometimes, you know, if I want to tape stuff I’ve got it all taken care of.” It was just wrong, wrong, wrong. So you mean to tell me BET couldn’t find any ethic stars, with comparable homes, to let them in? I say ethnic because apparently BET is for all who want to be “down.” Black, Asian, Hispanic or whatever. I guess famous people don’t trust BET either. Good to know we’re not alone.

But while I’m thinking about it, I do want to offer kudos to BET for putting on some grown folks music. I think the show is actually called Grown Folks Music. I saw some mature R&B videos. By mature I mean everyone kept their clothes on and no one had to use an explicative to get their point across.

Lenny Kravitz and Nicole Kidman-I give it 3 months, TOPS. Didn’t she used to kick it with Q-tip?

And finally, if you haven’t already check out 28 days later. But be forewarned, FULL FRONTAL MALE NUDITY in the first scene. No warning or anything. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not really scary. It wasn't to me, anyway. If anything it’s more apocalyptic. There are some sketchy scenes but overall it’s one of those movies that makes you think, “what would I do if the world were almost over?” At least that’s what I thought. PLEASE NOTE: that the puck rock black British chick DOES in fact hook up with the rock star looking Brit Boy. Also, noteworthy, check out Mark in the early stages of the movie. He will soon be joining the Brit boy hall of fame. But you have to catch him before his untimely demise. And I do mean UNTIMELY.
You want to love the dumb pop stars...you really do but:

"Anyone can sit down and write boring artistic songs. Pop music is the hardest s*** to write."
---Britney Spears


OH, now COME ON!!!!!
Under the "It's probably just me" category:


I (Tia) didn’t do Halloween as a child. I vaguely remember going trick-or-treating a few times before I was six and once when I was 11. But that’s about it. My mom didn’t believe in it. As I got older I did some research on the day for my own edification. If I told you how evil the origins of Halloween actually are you’d not only never celebrate it again, but you’d also boycott any and every person, place and thing that did.

Anyway, I’m not writing to give you my definitive thoughts on October 31st. I actually just have a question. Am I the only person who has a problem with small people going door-to-door begging? Maybe it’s just me but why do people pimp their kids for confectionary goodies? And don’t give me that “it’s fun for the kids” excuse. It’s aight for about an hour. Then you’re either hot/cold, tired, sticky, sweating (remember those plastic masks we used to where? Not only were those things not conducive to breathing but if someone lit a match close to you, you were a goner. Doomed to die in a flaming ball of plastic and polyester) your feet hurt and depending on when you were born you had to worry about cyanide and razor blades in your candy. How is that fun? And to add insult to injury, if you had responsible parents, they divvied out the candy and only let you have a little bit at a time. By the time you actually worked your way through your bounty, that mess was stale and old. Fun...I think not. And YOU KNOW your parents were dippin’ into your stash. I probably sound a bit jaded, but you know I’m speaking truth. Halloween, much like Valentine’s Day, is a “holiday” made up by candy companies to make money. Don’t believe the hype. SLAM THE MAN!!! And if you really need the sugar high (gotta have it/really need it to get by/SUGAR HIGH…name that movie) go to Wal-Mart on November 1. They always put their candy on sale the day after Halloween. But don’t go in there lightly. You will have to beat down the gray-haired granny with the walker for the last bag of mini-Twix.