I need hairapy

Its been a long time since i let my hair go.

I know. You're asking who cares? Well, i do. And if you are really asking, then you obviously are not a woman. Furthermore, you are not a black woman. Since i am, let me give you wisdom. I AM MY HAIR. Fxck you India Arie (j/k, i love you India, we just don't see eye to eye sometimes). Unlike the mantra of the aforementioned song, I am in so many ways defined by my hair. It is an indication of my mood, my outlook, my ethnicity, my happenings. I can only speak for myself when i say that if you want to know who i am, what I'm going through or what image i am trying to embody, take a look at my head.

When my life is a chaotic, work-filled mess so are my unruly curls. And my tresses will probably look thin and stringy, because when the going gets tough i literally pull it out.

When I'm feeling sexxay, you are almost guaranteed to find my tresses flipped suggestively to one side...like come hither and nibble on this side of the neck baby ;-)

When I'm mad. Middle part. Dead straight. Serious.

When I'm overwhelmed, or lazy, or tired: Bun....big big bun.

When my life is out of control, and i want to crawl up under something and hide...Wig.

(Notice the substantially messy dorm room behind me. Out of control.)

When I'm feeling giddy or like a kid? You guessed it. Silly little ponytail.

When i find zen in my life. So does my hair. Natural, neat, peaceful.

Unfortunately, i recently put myself in a little predicament that has screwed me up. Majorly.

In a moment of "wanting-to-be-different" weakness, I chopped it all off.

But the plan backfired. Because it turns out that Rihanna was going through the same thing. And a week later,

...She debuted the same shxt. And it just so happens that she's famous. So of course it would seem that i was jocking her. :-x

To be honest, i really jacked the style from V. Beckham:

But thats so not the point.

I saw the onslaught of Rihannapalooza in the beauty salons and decided that I hated my hair.

But since it was too short to even put in a silly little ponytail, I was screwed.

I am my hair, and my hair is screwed. I'm screwed.

And as i loathed my hair, my hair reciprocated by bending and curling itself into unrecognizable shapes which epitomized the very reason why i hated it, palpably.

Now, i am on the hunt for a bomb ass weave. suggestions? anyone?

But wtf does it mean if i, admittedly, am my hair, and my hair, admittedly, is a weave. Ugh. Who the hell ponders this shxt? Me. That's who.
Am i then fake? No; although my hair is.

Will it mean that i am striving to reach anglo-saxon beauty ideals? Nope. I'm black. I don't want to be anything else.

Why the stigma around extensions, when they are nothing but that; extensions of our own tresses. I guess us black girls aren't real unless we have short natural hair.

Whatever. At the end of the day, i am my hair. And as long as it looks good, i am happy. And in the end, isn't happiness all that matters? I hope you fnd pathos in my struggle. And as a result, i hope you help me find a new do....cuz i need some serious hairapy voyeurs.

Fluff and stuff

I am in love. His name is fluff. He is white. My husband hates him. But i love him. I indulge 3 or four times a day. When my son is asleep in the middle of the night, I sneak away and devour him. Then i lick my fingers. Ooh la la...

Meet fluff:

Its so intense its almost sexual.

Try it. Try it with white bread and peanut butter.

Its dipped in good.

Yes!

Its a few dayys late, but better late than never.


So,

Barack Obama is my Presdent.

YESSSSSS!

No need for profound ramblings. Thats been done. Just snap one time and do the yes dance voyeurs!

MUEP

Its 3 in the morning. And im up, with my son. And he's cranky. And for the first time i'm wondering...what if?

My son was a conscious decision. Not an oops or an uh-oh. I wanted him. I love him. I adore him.

But what if? what if i wasn't blesed with him? what would it have been like? 22, reckless, responsibilityless, boundryless? ooh la la...sexy...scary!

I used to live life at break-neck speeds. I was spoiled rotten, had no responsibilities (other than getting my ass to class...which i did superbly might i add), I had/got/did whatever the fxck i wanted and when i was up at 2 am on a monday, it was either because of martini mondays with my fellow night-crawlers, or some other unmentionable thing...

Since we are just getting to know each other, let me dip into my photo collection. Perhaps i can show you better than i can tell you

I spent my adolescence:

With fly betches, getting all bxtched up and bitchin around town

Half naked in the streets of foreign countries (jouvert morniiiinnnn....blow ya wistle)

Traveling the world and living out of a dirty pink suitcase

Spending daddy's doe on bitchy shxt...and being a nasty little show off about it




Picking up my drunken night-crawlers and hauling them back to our cave before sunrise

Sleeping in cabs on my way home...the next morning


Dancing holes in the floors of gay clubs


Wearing skanky outfits to skanky strip clubs and Tip-TiPpIn!!!!!


Attacking innocent poles

Acting, Dancing, Strutting

Being a baby

Drankin

Flossin a bitchy attitude in my bitchy lil car...fabulously...

...Oooh La La....

Fun!

Bitchin good times!!!!

*Muep*

Thats the sound of the though/reminiscing bubble thats floating above my head popping!

*muep*

Chase popped it

*muep*

Because, you see, my son, Chase, goes:

"Muep"

Not hiccup like other babies

Because hes not like other babies

He's bitchin (in the totaly and utterly awesome sense of the word)!!!!

MUEP!!!

And he has grounded me...

And mueps away all those stupid bubbles...

Because guess what voyeurs.

My life is still bitchin!!!

Just more responsibly...martini night when hes at grandmas

Wild style with the hub at naps....ooooh lala...exhilirating (TMI?)

Still bitchin around town but with my bitchy little:

Look for us flossin down your block in our bitchy car...and check for my mueper in the back seat looking like a million...

Ugh. So pretentious it sounds. But its not.

wait...let me shake this little devil bitch off my shoulder...

I just like to have fun...

and i still do

But now i come home to my cherub...

And i live life more like a 22 y/o should...as much as i loathe this maxim: Grown and sexxayyyy...instead of drunk and disorderly

Plus, according to my experiences, i've been 22 since i was 16

But shout out to all you crazy 22 y/o bad bitches......let the good times rollllllll!!!!!!

Muep.

Good night.

♥ Lola

(and Chase)

Dear Dr. King

Hi. Its me, Lola. Happy birthday. There aren't many holidays that i take seriously. I live in America; the land of comercialization. As a result i yawn through most of the overly-commercialized, consumer driven occasions that we have been trained to "celebrate" yearly.



Valentines day? Ha. Who can buy the most neatly packaged crap-colored-red.

Christmas? Albeit (respectfully) the birthday of Christ, Ha Ha. Who can buy the most crap?

St. Patricks? Who can buy the most beer and green shit?

Thanksgiving? My trukey is bigger than yours.



Nonetheless, if you look hard enough, you find a few that are truly meaningful in a priceless way. I believe today is one of those days. I didn't feel the need to pop champagne in any club, or go shopping, or send out any generic cards. Rather i had a solitary celebration, and it was mostly internal. As the holiday calls for, i was happy that you were born. I honored your life. I mourned and lamented your untimely death. Then i venerated your legacy; the seed you planted 46 years ago. My how that little seed has blossomed; in many ways quite quickly and in others, not quite quick enough. Racism is alive and well in 2009, but fortunately so is my president. He's black ya know. And for that, i celebrate you. You are the forefather of the nation that i am apart of. One that has freed itself of enough barriers to endow Barack Obama, a black man with big ears and a funny name, with the Presidency. So i thank you. Now i can look into my sons eyes, and truthfully mean it when i tell him that dreams do come true. I can mean it when i tell him that he can be anything he wants to be; and when he replies: "even the president mommy?" I will proudly look him in the eye and affirm. Truthfully. So cheers to this day, and all that it commemorates. Happy B-day Dr. King.

♥ Lola

..More...More...More..

Hi voyeurs ♥

Lola here...

So, i decided to give a lil' more about me, in case you wanted to know.

Basics

• I'm a Sag (born 12/04)
• Born in Venezuela. I speaki espanish.
• Rooted in Trinidad (Trini massive!!!)
• Bred in Brooklyn (BK we go hard!!!)
• Moved on up to a deeeelux house in Freeport L.I.
• And ended up in the BX, where i currently reside
  ...I get around...
• I live with my hub and my cherub
• I did college (CNR) in 3yrs
• Looking forward to law school in the fall
• 2 Brothers 17 & 5:

(Hey Prez.)

(Hey Doomp)

Other Random Tidbits

• I'm so fxckin inconsistent. whatever.
• Some lies taste good in my mouth ;-p (but never here...don't worry voyeurs)
• Sin shmin. I rather go by good and bad...but even those lines get blurry as we'll see herein...
• I'm a trained dancer. (ballet, tap, lyrical, modern, latin, jazz all that good shxt)
• I love $
• I LOVE cheap shxt more than i love expensive shxt. Nope. I take that back. What i mean is, i love getting expensive things for cheap...ya, that's it.
• I'm a procrastinator and overachiever at the same time
• I'm materialistic :-x
• I'm a heart breaker. Sorry boys
• I talk recklessly, but I am so vastly humbled by my life experiences

I guess you will learn about the rest as we go along...

Hope this gives you some insight. So now that we're acquainted, let the games begin!

..Intro..

Hi ♥

I'm Lola.

22 years young.

Recent college graduate.

Recent mother.

Long time bad bitch.

Brand new blogster.

This, is me; my life; my times.

These are my thoughts, my images and my words.

And trust me, its gonna be a Bitchin good time.

So come over, bring your friends. Be my voyeurs. I'll show you me and mine and you don't even have to show me yours ;-)

Tune in for the crazy, stupid, smart, lovely, horrible, multifaceted, simple, bitchy, shuga-sweet, raw, down and dirty ramblings, recollections, raves and rants of a girl like me....

You're in for some good shet snitchezzzz!!!!!

Feel Me...

I'm so,

Dynamic...
Have you heard?

I hiss these words
That vibrate...
Can you feel me?

Im screaming,
But im silent
Do you hear it?

A breath
of my fresh
Smells like dynamite

Cuz im dynamic,
Have you heard?

Watch,
Eyes open.
I'm creeping up...
Your spot...
Didn't see me,
Did you?

Boom, buzz
Eclectic
So dynamic,
Its electric,

Can you feel me?

You slip,
I catch,
You're caught
I hiss
Baby, I,
Never miss
And it vibrates

Loosen up baby,
Open wide
I got you open
Senses wide open...
Can you feel me?

I know you do
I feel you too
Feelin me...

I fucked with ya
And now you sense
My sex
My mindsex
And then
I trapped ya
I got ya
I shot ya

Because I'm,
So,
Dynamic,
Have you heard?