WACK History Month

What the hell is going on here, people?! First Beyonce - Etta James duel to the death, New York scheduled to appear in the Vag Mons, and now Chris Brown is charged with assaulting Rihanna.

I am in Disturbia.

What's prompted me to blog is the recent New York Times Article on the whole thing. Check it here. Here's the excerpt that really pisses me off:

“He was very professional and didn’t appear to have injuries,” said Sgt. Bridget Pickett, [about Chris Brown] adding, “He’s a good looking young man.”

What the hell?! I don't care if he's cute. I don't care if, after running scared, calling his manager, handlers, and 12 high-priced lawyers, he turned himself in--he assaulted his girlfriend, assholes!

And what's really making me sad is Ri-Ri. She has been in an abusive relationship with this fool for a long time. How long would it have gone on if not for this incident? As much as I respect a need for her privacy, I wish we were addressing what she's dealing with instead of hearing from rappers and cops who say Chris is "good looking." It's as though she's completely devalued. While they are the "king and queen of pop" right now, it just seems that the biggest concern is getting Chris off so we can go back to watching him dance and pretend this never happened. The willingness to sweep it under the rug is sickening. If Rihanna can't even get justice, what hope is there for the thousands of abused women who live in fear every day?

I'm sorry y'all, this just has me trippin'. What do you think?

Ri-ri, I got your back. I will be breaking dishes and using them to cut Chris Brown!

Go Shawty, It WAS Your Birthday....

So, the beginning of my 25th year has been interesting. An attempt to celebrate with dancing, drinking, and merriment was a total bust, as the bars were lame, there were too many popped collars, and the DJs refused to play Rihanna. Sunday, the actual day of my birth, was nice, as I was roused from sleep with many text messages sending good tidings, and an offer for lunch. Seeing as it was damn near dinner time when I woke up, I thought it behoovy of me to get out and enjoy the day.

It ended up being a hodge-podge, with a one-on-one lunch with a friend, then a semi-date with a dude I met at 2am the night before in a kebab shop, then a stop at a house party thrown by my drunken underage British coworkers. When I came home and checked my email, my inbox was bombarded with news of facebook wall posts and e-cards, which made me happy. I keep thinking America has forgotten all about me, but thanks to the interweb, I'm still alive and kicking. The e-cards also help me keep in touch with my roots. For instance:


From the Elite Gay Visionary, of course.



This one was actually sent to me by more than one person. I love that Pearl Harbor Day is still present in people's minds. In a way, it makes sense: considering some of my shenanigans in life, it's quite fitting that I was born on the anniversary of a day that will live in infamy!



I guess 25 does mean I'm getting up in years, and I certainly do know how to ensnare a man (for a night, anyway). I hear 25 is the age where your ass starts to spread--how will that effect my cougar wiles?


I'm currently nursing a cold, trying my darndest to stop it from turning into strep throat or a sinus infection--lord knows what this "traveler's insurance" of mine actually covers. Back at the bar tomorrow night to enable addictions and attempt to decipher accents and crazy drink orders. You know, like a SNAKEBITE: half beer, half cider, topped with grenadine.

Gag me.

Sojo's Sadness.... Turns to Anger!

THIS POST HAS BEEN TAKEN DOWN DUE TO INTERNATIONAL DRAMA.