Monthly Archives: March 2008


“I called for you…”

Okay, not to be mean and beat Andy when he’s down but I SWEAR this is my baby when he gets sick. Poor little bunny.

And who doesn’t love Nick Frost? If you haven’t see Hot Fuzz, please put it at the top of your Netflix queue. And if you don’t have Netflix and rent through Blockbuster…I laugh and point in your general direction.


Filed under Good times, Shit just got real


Prompted by Bethany’s post. Linkage aboundage.

I read an article recently on Written by Native author David Treuer, he ponders why so many writers pretend to be Indian*. He suggests that it might be because anyone can be an Indian these days as the stereotypical Indian look: long black hair, black eyes, reddish-brown skin, prominent nose…is no longer the norm. Treuer compares himself to Opie Taylor, and when I look him up and view his picture on his website, I note that he is indeed a pale fella. One of the people he references in his article is Chief Buffalo Child Long Lance, a writer who claimed to be the son of a Blackfoot chief, but turned out to be the son of a black man (who was part Cherokee). He ended up killing himself when the truth came out.

*The man told some tall ass tales, but I don’t see how he’s not an Indian, as he had Cherokee blood and was even adopted into the Kainai Nation (Blackfoot). *slaps forehead* Oh right! I forgot about the one drop rule. If you have one drop of black blood, you’re black. And if you’re white and have one drop of Native American blood, then you’re rich.

Then there’s Margaret B Jones. This story is just delicious. White woman lies about her heritage (claimed that she was Native, natch) and her childhood, truth comes out, her “memoir” Love and Consequences: A Memoir of Hope and Survival, is pulled from the shelves. Her own sister was the whistle blower. Hi! Don’t post pictures of yourself with a red bandana (courtesy of a fallen homie) trying to look gansta and not think that someone from your REAL life is going to pull the rug out from under your ass.


Filed under Opinion, Race, Rant

What the frack.

LOVE. But where the hell is Billy in all of that?


Filed under Uncategorized

Pourquoi les taire?

I’ve already mentioned this, but I really want to see this flick. Really really. I will memorize all of the songs and will have no clue what I am singing about. And I will do it with fervor.  I especially like this song, especially when she chimes in, “Pourquoi les taire?”

Life. I’ve taken two sewing classes so far, HILARIOUS of me to think that I would need only class (that meets once a week, besides) to be a sewing champ. I’m of that strange breed that needs things banged into my head over and over again until it sticks. …Unless it has to do with movie/tv trivia. But I have these dreams of making my own clothes and it SHALL be a reality, so I hammer away.

Z. He is quickly becoming a blur, he crawls so fast. He’s constantly pulling himself up and testing his boundaries, letting go with one hand and trying to balance. He’s very vocal, and I’d like to think that he knows I’m mama when he says it. It blows my mind to think of him walking and talking, but we’ll be there soon. So soon. It’s time to get started on baking the next one! I wonder how long it will take this time. What if I can’t get pregnant again? What if? We’re entering into dangerous territory for me: wondering how long it’ll take, worrying that it will never happen… then when it does, worrying that I’ll miscarry again, and hoping that the baby will be okay…I can’t quite comprehend creating another little one and loving him or her with the same bone crushing intensity that I love Z.

Speaking of clothes, I love the Genuine Baby line by Osh Kosh. The colors are great (lots of oranges and teals)! At first I was doing cartwheels for Carters, but Genuine Baby has me…eh, you get the idea. But seriously. So cute!

And speaking of baby stuff, I just ordered a BabyHawk: . My co-worker Kerrie clued me in on it. She recently ordered an Ergo, but lusts after these bad boys. I got the pumpkin colored one, with some flower-ish detail on the back. I can’t wait to strap Z to my back and go! The sun has to come out first though…*glares at the cloudy sky and growls*

Yeah…I should go to bed.

Ton feu nourri de questions
sur le pourquoi du comment
de mon coeur et ses raisons
ne trouvent pas de répondant
je ne manque pas
de bonnes raisons pour t’aimer
je ne vois pas
pour quelles raisons te les donner ?!?
mes bonnes raisons pour t’aimer
pourquoi te les donner ?


Filed under Baby, baby clothes, Life, Movies, Z the Mighty

It's like I'm looking into a mirror!

Let’s start this post with a seemingly unrelated story: When Andy and I were visiting friends in Eugene one New Years Eve, one girl (who had heard of me, but hadn’t yet met me) remarked “Oh, you must be Jen!” I smiled and said hello. I knew who she was, she looked exactly like her brother who I had known for several years. Then she continued, “I know this because I know Meg and Andy have a black friend named Jen and none of us knows any other black people.” or something in that vein, in a matter of fact tone. I looked at her like she was high and barked out a laugh. Because it was funny, and because she thought that tidbit would be interesting to me. Oh Yes! Your powers of perception positively blind me, friend!

So you see – here in Oregon, Black people are few and far between. So what happens when there’s a smattering (i.e. two) of us in the same vicinity? We’ll get to that.

In the office that I work in there are two people of color (not counting the ever changing student workers), one of them being me. So the ratio is 4:2…not too bad. Of course, the coworker in question is from Singapore, while I am a black American, so it’s not as if we’re on any kind of common ground besides the fact that we’re the “other”. But hey! Apparently being the only black female in my office makes it easier to single me out. Put another black girl into the mix and things might get KRAZY! Funny story: A coworker and I got pregnant around the same time (I was due end of June, and she the end of September), and since we were each going to be out on maternity leave but had no idea when (since babies don’t give a rat’s ass about due dates), it was decided that we would hire someone to cover our asses just in case. That someone turned out to be black, which I found moderately amusing because… didn’t you know there were 5 of us in Oregon? I mean, what are the ODDS? HA. Anyway, turns out that people were…you can guess what I’m going to say, right? THEY THOUGHT THAT SHE WAS ME. They thought -wow! you’re back so soon! Could it be that you’re Wonder Woman? Pop a baby out and back to work two weeks later? You go guuuuuurl.

Yeah, I kid… but I’m crying inside. One of my co-workers just told me this last week and I could. not. BELIEVE. IT. This woman looked NOTHING like me. Okay? And I mean, nothing. I could detail the ways in which we are different, but that would be unnecessary. *stares blankly* It frightens me that this shit continues to happen. Because really guys? REALLY? The next time any of you mentions that you “don’t see race” I’m punching you in the forehead.

Query: What would’ve happened if she would have stayed on, and we had worked side by side? Would heads have exploded? Would they have questioned me on my ability to duplicate myself?

Oh, and this would all tie in with the “compliments” that my sisters and I have gotten from white people, one of them being: “You look just like Whitney Housten.” Meaning…”You’re pretty.” Because just to say “You’re pretty.” wouldn’t have had the same effect, right? This was said from an in law to my sister on her wedding day. Telling her that she looked just like a famous attractive black woman (RANDOM?) was supposed to make her feel what? Touched? Tickled pink?

Nah dude. You’re an ignorant slut.



Filed under Black American, black women, Life, Opinion, Race, Rant

Jodi Picoult is a hack

A couple of years ago I had been encouraged by several people to read My Sister’s Keeper by (get ready for the hulk-like font!)

Jodi Picoult.

“It’s amazing!” one person actually said to me. “You’ll love it.” After reading it I suppose I could see why a certain type of reader would find it so riveting, but I found it annoying to the point of needing to pummel a punching bag. The ending apparently left these readers in tears, but I muttered, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” until I finished the very last sentence, dry eyed all the way. I don’t need a happy ending to enjoy a novel. Just don’t fuck over your characters (and me..hello?) to create a little dramatic tone. And don’t write about hot-button topics and never truly take any sort of stand, hiding behind an army of narrators that do nothing but ruminate ‘til the cows come home. It was as if all of the characters spoke in riddles, and they sure as hell took their dear sweet time getting to the topic at hand. There was always some roundabout anecdote that in some way correlated to what was happening, but by the time I got to the middle of the book I was just DONE with the whole song and dance.

I’d say 80% of this book was filler. Skipping ahead is advised.

After reading Vanishing Acts, Change of Heart and The Pact (although I merely skimmed the latter two) I realized that Picoult does the same annoying shit every time. I know, I know… why did I read so many of her books when the first one bugged SO HARD? … I guess I kept expecting to be amazed or impressed.

Ah well.


Filed under books/reading, Opinion

I got your whopper.

Right. Here.

In response to Bethany’s post .

Hey, Beth? Seeing your objects of lust made me think of mine.


And again I say

I also want this dress:


1 Comment

Filed under shoes, Shopping