So maybe I’ll grab some the next time I’m out? I would love for my hair to grow thick and healthy and I know that dousing it in coconut oil just might be the trick. However, I think the only places to find coconut oil are at stores named Kohli’s or Bombay Mart so I can’t pop over to the local Giggle or Wal-Mart for a bottle. Darn it…
Vanilla Ice’s real name is Robert Van Winkle. Now how does that one work? I suppose in hindsight it’s a bit strange;Vanilla Ice…but at the time he was hot. I remember 7th grade and Dominique. Dominique was this white kid who idolized Vanilla Ice–dressed like him, cut his hair just like him…and Dominique was kinda cute to boot but he was one of those kids who didn’t seem bent on pursuing scholarly knowledge. In fact he was a bit of a bad boy who seemed bent on pursuing detention. I wonder where he is now?
Last night, at Deja Vu, the DJ actually played Vanilla Ice’s “Ice, Ice Baby” and as I listened to it I realized the awfulness of that song. Granted, bad songs are created every day (Sisqo’s ‘Thong Song’, D4L’s ‘Laffy Taffy’ or Beyonce’s ‘Check on It’) but now I know better! I know that just because a song is heralded as being ‘hot’ and gets more air play than Donald Trump, doesn’t actually make the song worth paying any mind.
Why did the DJ play Vanilla Ice? And why did the black folk (all whopping 12 of us–whoopdeedoo–except for two) stop dancing? Gotta love it!
I turn 29 this year. I’m not sure how that happened. Somewhere between studying, eating, wondering, dancing, daydreaming, reading, cooking, cleaning, travelling, talking and blogging–I passed through 28 years of inhabiting this revolving rock. I turn 29 in March. And I haven’t decided the exact terms of my birthday bash. I’m playing around with “BMEAM” (Bring Me A Man) theme. All the ladies who are invited must bring one or more XY and if it’s an XY who is invited he has to bring another XY. Somehow this will even the ratio of existence. My parties have been known to bring people together and maybe this time I’ll find mine?
Or maybe not. Uhm, yeeeeah. What I want is not necessarily a relationship. I think it has to do with my independent streak and lack of being anything close to a serious Mommy figure for my lover. Seriously! I think that sometimes men see me as a matronly figure and that sort of, oh I don’t know, utterly kills any romantic tendencies I may have towards them! So until I can find someone who can speak intelligently on current and past issues, is a believer, has ambition and self-esteem, and does not see me as some mystical “Mother Africa” to heal all their wounds, weeeeeel, I can do alright ALL BY MYSELF.
Not to say that if the right man popped along I wouldn’t be open to something or other. But I think that with my innate incredulousness and inexperience in personal romance, if my subconscious even smelled the fragrant possibility of a relationship, I would run–madly, towards the hills. LOL. And never come out! Oy vay!