White Men I Love

In no particular order:

Oh Paul Newman,
Jeff Goldblum - the finest in the world, actually
Sean Connery
George Clooney
Howie Long
Arnold Shwartzenegger
Brad Pitt
Marlon Brandon
Alec Baldwin
Owen Wilson
Matthew McConnaughey
James Franco
Josh Brolin AND his daddy James
Josh Duhamel
Hugh Jackman
Paul Walker
Ryan Phillipe
Robin Thicke
Kid Rock
Cary Grant
Jason Patric
Eric Dane
Patrick Dempsey
Pierce Brosnan
that one I used to date in high school when I was under age
the one I dated last year
Halley Berry's baby daddy
Lisa Bonet's new baby daddy
Johnny Fricken Dep
Salma Hayeks baby Daddy -- the one with the billion dollars
Most mothafuckas with a billion dollars
Bill Clinton
Adrian Brody
George W. -
John Kennedy Jr.
James Dean
Antonio Sabatino Jr.
Heath Ledger
Steve McQueen
Bob DeNiro
Ed Harris
Richard Gere

My future baby daddy

and then there's the one's that I don't necessarily think of as white:
Benicio del Toro
Javier Bardem
Ricardo Montalaban
Yule Brenner

to be continued......

Innocent Until Proven Guilty

I am so sick of people commenting on Chris Brown and Rihanna. No one knows anything. He turned himself in because he had to. But this absolute shit about there being no reason to hit a woman? That is some bullshit. Women wile out and put their fingers in men's face, push them, grab the steering wheel, kick and scream, talk about they dick size in public, etcetera etcetera. Men, too , are human. Don't put any extra expectations onto them that you wouldn't put on anyone else. It's awful to emasculate or push anyone to the point of no return, just to test them.

I am a victim of domestic abuse. I did not hit this man, or taunt him or do anything to him. He was just a big fat headed bully who had a naive, whimsical girl. So I am not unaware of the perils of domestic violence. I have, however, also been around a few black girls in my lifetime and we be wiling the fuck out. Really. Some men can walk away, some men are pushed. I just think that we need to let these children work this thing out and not in public. It's sad to try and judge Chris Brown with no facts. I think that TMZ photo is some bullshit. I think the statements are so vague that there is no way any one knows anything other than the people who were around them during the time. I also think we don't know what happened on Thursday or Friday that led to Saturday. We just don't know.

So the think of this boy and this girl as you would your niece or nephew or little brother or sister. I hope his career isn't over. I hope she and he can work it out. I hope that picture wasn't her and was some photoshopped bullshit. I hope that he is working with his pastor as he stated. I hope. I hope. Hope is much better than gossip.

Rainy Day Blues

I'm sick. My good friend brought me to the ER on a Sunday night. I swear Cedar Sinai is the new County. I waited for 3 hours for antibiotics. They did knock me out. But now I'm hallucinating and have insomnia. I can't help to think that part of that is because I'm crazy emotional. Maybe it's that time of the month, or maybe I work with an inconsiderate fuck who is spoiled and a total and complete douche. Yes, I am indeed premenstrual. Doesn't mean he still isn't a douche.
So i go to bed at 1040pm and I wake up at 1am. Then I stay up watching all of Season 1 Sex And The City , fell asleep, and then woke up in the dark thinking I saw a rat or mouse crawling under the television. Freaked me out. Turned on all of the lights, and started back with the SATC. I'm on Season 2 disc 1.

Does this infection make you hallucinate? I searched for mouse droppings, but I saw none, so I'm assuming these are the side affects.
I have tickets to Lykke Li tonight. I hope I feel good enough to go to Pomona. Being sick is a drag. I'm a workaholic and there's nothing to do, and I'm still in bed and....ugh. I'm so bored. I'm bored, sick, hallucinating, premenstrual and broken hearted. What a fricken mess.

Only Grammy Week......

Grammy week brings out the best and worst in all of us. Yes it's some great industry hooplah circus pretentious parade, but we all choose our jobs. Mine happens to be working with crazy pretentious people who fuel greater artists than themselves or who they would even dare to be if they had the talent.

So Wayne has rehearsals this week. 8 nominations and 3 performances which we cannot discuss until after Sunday. All I can say is that the Grammy's dare to be educational with every show and I'm proud of them. In any event, Centerstaging in Burbank looks like the Magic Johnson Fridays on a Friday night. Black folks all over, in parking lots, musicians from the last tour and dancers from the next. While we're getting work done it's perfectly normal to see Chris Brown in Studio 9, Queen Latifah in Studio 8, etcetera. It's probably the best part of Grammy Week. No lines. No velvet rope.

Grammy rehearsals are retarded. I can't go into to the depths of that, except to ask, why are black women so mean? I know, I have that bug and I was a condescending bitch before...I worked on myself. It's ugly. But I am fighting these 2 raggedy publicists just to do my job because they feel some kind of way. WTF. The Grammy production office talking major shit about how the camp is divided and ran....UGH. Embarrassing. Thank God I have a reputation that's good already.

Then there's the Black Eyed Peas Peapod charity event, a yearly staple and the first time I've worked it and not MY yearly staple, The Roots Jam Session - still doesn't sit right. Lots of fun people there. Slash, Lupe Fiasco, Janelle Monae, Cypress Hill, blah blah blah - family. It's not every night you can watch Fergie perform while drinking beers with her husband.

In any event, my buddy finished his rehearsals from the Grammys and told me to roll and meet them at the Sunset Towers. I grabbed my trusty sidekick and off we went to Hollywood. Upon arrival, we were surprised to see Sean Penn at the table, with Cleve Jones...THE Cleve Jones (http://clevejones.com/mainmenu.htm) , not Emile Herscht who played him in MILK. Fun times. We laughed, we cried, we left and went to Villa where Samantha Ronson was Jukeboxing (my affectionate term for people who simply play their serrato and cut the song off when it gets good....these people generally can't dance). And of course, wherever Ronson is, her sraggely girlfriend is sure to follow.

Apparently, Lindsey Lohan has a crush on Sean Penn. But who doesn't? I mean Fast Times At Ridgemont High shaped my teen years. BUt it was obnoxious. "Their" area was small and cramped and we had a large crew. So my buddy tells me "Tell Sean lets go upstairs so we can do "our" thing"...I say cool. I lean over to tell Sean who's short term memory was definitely fucked...I don't even know if he heard me, but I delivered the message like a good assistant and turned to leave. I must have gotten Ms. Lohans panties in a twirl, because she fell back all dramatic - some of the best acting I've ever seen her do actually - as if I'd sat on her...or kind of like how people looked at Dorothy Danridge when she dipped her toe in the pool at that Vegas hotel before they drained it. So I apologized, or pardoned myself i should say. Meanwhile she'd grabbed my sidekicks arm and said "I don't know who the hell you guys are. Get the fuck out of here."

Now, I didn't hear that part, but I had just enough whiskey in my system to pretend that I did. We decided to say later for that bitch and go upstairs to our table. The girls were cute and it was fun and light and Cleve was there and so, so what. But we were getting hyped. So Sir Penn comes upstairs and talks to my buddy in the corner, quietly, and here comes Attention-seeking-whore #1. Just standing there while the gentlemen are having a private conversation! And well, that's just rude. So I go up to her and while she's texting her generation Z ass away, I ask her,

"Hey, you aren't going to come up here starting no shit are you?"
"Excuuuuuuse me?" she responds.
"I said, we are very cool up here and not into all of that so, please don't come up here acting a fool."
"Excuuuuse me but I'm here to see HIM (pointing to Sean Penn)."
"Word? Well, I ain't with that nigga I'm with this nigga and we cool and you can't come here dictating and putting your hands on people and shit."
"Well you elbowed me!!!"
"I don't think I did, but if so, I apologize...still don't come up here starting no shit. You will come up short".
"you are being inappropriate."
"Really, inappropriate is calling people 'colored', that' s in appropriate."
"Excuuuuse me? My best friend since 5 is black."
"Oh bitch please! Just don't be starting no shit."

Then Sean and Buddy moved and walked to the table so she tried to follow him.
"Now you're harassing me." she says.
"Really? I'm harassing you Lindsay Lohan? Cuz just EVERYONE is after you right? Bitch get the fuck outta here."

And then she went to Sean and he ignored her. She is such a fake ass lesbian.

And that has been the best part of my Grammy Week. I wonder how it can get any better. 3 more days!!!!

DING DONG THE BITCH IS DEAD

I was discussing with a friend of mine the 10 hour rule. He told me he doesn't generally plan past 10 hours, which for me, the consummate OVER planner, is a grave issue. It drives me mad. I thought he was a nutcase when he told me. I bitched about it to my friends. I may have called him a bad word or two. But the fact is, my control-freakness is such a problem that I hyper ventilate sometimes, tis true. Everyone knows. It's cool. So someone who I'm learning to respect more and more daily, even though he is a surfer, tells me last week, "why are you worried about it? you know shit changes. It's 10 days until.....you never know what will happen." So I turned to the surf and did my meditation, and I shit you not, not 12 hours later, the muthafucka who's made my life miserable got canned. Patience IS my journey. He's fuckin' Nostradamus that one.

Planes, Trains , Automobiles and Obama

I am exhausted.

Jet setting is not all it's cracked up to be.  I know it sounds braggadocious, but I am plum tired. 

I am sitting in Speedway Cafe on a 3 hour layover from Nassau heading back to Seattle.

I'll start with Monday morning.

4:15am pick up from the hotel in Minneapolis to start my trek to Washington DC.  Will.I.Am had parties galore that week and I was fortunate enough to make the Neighborhood Ball.  Beyond excited, mostly to see my friends.  Not that don't have any in Waynes camp, they're just new and I desperately needed some "connect time".

I took two flights only to realize when I finally landed in Baltimore, it was 11:20am, not 10:20am I was originally quoted.  I wouldn't be seeing the swearing in and was happy my boy TiVOed it.

I did stop to see what Aretha was wearing prior to heading down to baggage claim.  I'm sort of glad I didn't see her sing, since she dissed herself so.

Picked up my luggage in cold ass Baltimore and jumped on a bus to the Greenbelt.  Bus took about 20 minutes.  Train took another 25 minutes to get into DC.  Looked up to notice that the Convention Center stop was closed, so threw all my computers back into their bags (LW doing a border crossing today so I was on alert getting manifests ready).  In my haste, I, of course, dropped my wireless card ...somewhere...my only faux pas of the week.

Rushed to the top of the metro stairs smack dab at the Verizon Center where we just played last month...the day I started writing this blog.

I was in Obama Bootleg heaven.  Amazing is only half of the description...they were having bootlegg -offs!  Sales.  Why where else have you been able to get a bootleg Obama bling tshirt AND the bootleg of "Notorious"...in one breath?  Are you kidding me?

It was incredible.  I started taking pictures of the street, and then it happened.

I realized it was about 15 degrees in that bitch.  And I had to walk 7 blocks back to the Convention Center.

I began my long cold walk, still in awe but with frozen fingertips.  My oh so stylish gloves were oh so impractical.  they worked at 30 degrees.  I supposed 15 was a different beast.

Upon arrival, they did not, of course, have my name.  Fortunately the same people who do Fashion Rocks, AMA's and all of the award shows did this one too and let me in...and you thought it was high security.

The Bucky Jonson boys arrived and I was beyond happy to see them.  Not only had I not seen them since the wedding...or, really since Chile in November for a show, but Bobby was carrying my box o' gowns and I had to get ready for the Ball!

None of the usual suspects were there to dress me so I relied on the light designer and the road manager to put me together.  It was wonderful, except my ribs were in pain.  I have the bruises to prove it.  I don't know how women did this in the last centuries but I truly believed that my lungs and intestines were gonna fall out of my dress when I took it off.  I was in so much pain, only the sight of Sting and Denzel Washington could pull me away.  Jay Z doing the shuffle in the freight elevator took my mind off of it also.  Sad that I missed seeing Latifah backstage, I didn't even know she was there until she came out on stage.

Very proud of Will.I.Am and the boys.  Keith Harris is a beast!  He was beyond proud.  We all were.  Everyone in that room.  I realized that little girls everywhere would look at Michelle Obama and want to look like her!  Imaging a world where there are more black barbies on the shelves than white?  CRAZY!!  And there were so many black barbie dolls running around that evening and beautiful men and beautiful people.  It was an incredible night to remember until.....

the Irish pub across from the hotel and the nasty boys who thought they could rub my but.  What is it with drunk white boys?  I mean really.  I'm ordering a drink and he's not doing the bump, he has his ass on my ass and holding my hips at the same time.  And the worst part?  Had I broken a glass over his fucking head I would have been wrong.  The fucking nerve.  I really don't understand why motherfuckers feel they can violate another persons space.  I really don't understand it.  Were they told somewhere that that was a great "come on" line?  It damn near ruined my evening, until I watched the first dance I recorded and remembered seeing my president to the bump.   I loosened up after that.

Next morning we jumped up...tired as hell, for a 5am call to the Philadelphia Airport.  US Airways direct to Nassau, Bahamas for the Michael Jordan Celebrity Golf tournament.   Where I found...yep, you guessed it, more obnoxious white boys.  WTF?!

I did see Hillary Duff, however, and if she isn't the prettiest little girl you've ever seen than I don't know who is.  We played blackjack for hours with her and her bf Mike Comrie.  They were the coolest people in the casino, aside from some other people who I don't know but who came to the dinner where Fergie performed.  It was a blast...except that the Atlantis Resort is fricken gross.  I think I need to stick to Indian Casinos to get my winnings on.  I sucked.

And now, I am holding my friend up sitting here, reading surf magazines, listening to Stevie Nicks "Outside of the Rain" at this table staring into this computer.  Would you believe we still have an hour and one half left before our plane lands?  And I have another 5 hour flight.  I cannot wait to get my black ass to Seattle and collapse into that bed.  Cannot wait.

NO DICK TIL BROOKLYNNNNNNNN!!!!!

Tonight, I had a very interesting Ichat convo with my lover. I'm beginning to think that texting and email is the new lead to writing. Like love letters in the 17 and 1800's. I know, it's passive aggressive, but it can be terribly romantic. This convo, however, wasn't one of those romantic moments:

BOY:
seems like ur gettin burned out a bit
they drivin u hard
i hope u get a break

GTG:
ITS driving me hard
no one in particular
it is what it is

BOY:
if u tell me dates ur in LA i will come out and see u

GTG:
no way

BOY:
uh way?

GTG:
i'm only home a little bit and I have to spend it with friends and boys who can have me whole
I can only visit you on the road and stuff

BOY:
awh
have u whole?
awh
ur smelly

GTG:
lol
Lmao

BOY:
lol

GTG:
i'm "smelly"?

BOY:
yea....

GTG:
i'm coming to town tomorrow

BOY:
lol

GTG:
you got a whole lunch break

BOY:
im in VA

GTG:
yeah, well I figure since I came across the USA you can figure out how to get to DC
really

BOY:
LOL
only have u whole?
thats so wrong
da
m

GTG:
what's funny?
so wrong?
no it's not

BOY:
lol

GTG:
you are crazy
besides, i could be my other Muslims first wife
is it like Big Love?
actually, by the time i get into DC he will be inaugurated already

BOY:
lol

GTG:
you keep laughing!
you see me and my little cousin and her momma

BOY:
yea
beautiful

GTG:
i have on liquid eyeliner
and a fricken mullet

BOY:
hot
ur hot
lol
have me fully
man im gonna smack u
lol

GTG:
was that corny?

BOY:
nah
it was from the heart
u want to have the physical mental and emotional

GTG:
exactly
i can't fuck anymore
it's horrible
i don't know what happened
it's like, POOF, no more fucking
not that I'm not horny, or have no libido

BOY:
nah
nah

GTG:
but a nigga can say something and I'd be done

BOY:
u need the emotional T

GTG:
really
like this boy came to my room the other night, put his dick on my shoulder and, while it definitely had girth, I was done and ready to go to bed
I dunno
I'm over fucking
MAYBE I CAN

BOY:
ok
well...

GTG:
NOT FUCK NO MORE
oh my gosh

BOY:
id warm u up

GTG:
what if that's what happens?
oh Lord, I hope not

BOY:
lol

GTG:

I love to fuck.
shit.

BOY:
need the heart T
thats whats missing

GTG:
yeah well
i need a dick too