No Shiggity

Shiggity Pegreaux Black Men Say...

Pegreaux = Pretentious + (sometimes) Nouveau + Negroes. <~~ Get into it. Ah yes, 'tis the age of the Pegreaux. That species of hustle-disguised-as-know-it-all-ness gentleman heating up airwaves, TV sets and these here innanets. They are everywhere. They are smarter than the rest of us (to hear them tell it) and  they have opinions. As do I.

Many of you have seen the various, multiple spins on Sh*t (insert any type of people) say. White Girls, Bougie Black Girls :-/, Purple Squirrels... good times. Everyone else has had so much fun compiling their lists, I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon too. Of course when I write a list about Pegreaux... I actually know enough of them well enough to be accurate in my tongue-in-cheekiness. I get that it's hot in the streets to make up a list about the two chicks who deigned to speak to you at last week's Happy Hour because they thought your name tag was cute. I just thought I'd do my list a little differently.

So what's tripping lightly off of Les Pegreaux lips this days? Allow me to share..

1. "Buy my book, it will change your life!" (Or buy my t-shirt or my signature vodka or watch my show and come to my event. If you're particularly lazy - just click "LIKE"!). You have to know by now that words of epic wisdom and absolute pearls of intellectual superiority are to be found inside a Pegreaux-penned publication. Nothing is going to raise this race up or bring hordes of angry single black woman to their ultimate salvation like following the gospel of Pegreauxism. Let's raise a Hibiscus Martini at the next happy hour to this, shall we?

2. "But seriously, have you bought my book yet?" For Social Media's sake, you see me in all my Pegritude hustling and tweeting and blogging and you still haven't bought my book? That's no way to catch a man, ladies. That's no way to be on your Jay-Z-Z baller status, gents. And isn't that what this life is all about anyway?

3. I'm not doing this for me, it's all about you. A Pegreaux's battlecry is that he is not a pretentious  prick just on G.P. - he is out there grindin' for the betterment of all black people everywhere (especially those that have purchased their books).

4. "You need to get to my level." I love it when a man tells you to get like him only to later discover his life is a freaking shambles behind closed doors.  No sir, I'm good right up and through here.

5. "Everyone is hatin' on me." For the last time, it's only "hate" if it's not justified scorn, earned disdain and hearty ridicule. The perception that you are so on point that others are threatened by your clarity of thought is both laughable and slapworthy. Anytime someone starts hollerin' about how much exponential hate is directed their way, I wonder if there's an app for deluded self-importance? 

Last but not least:
6. "...And that's why all you women are single." If the alternative is a lifetime of what you're dishing out? We're happy to stay hungry. Kthxbi.

I'll let Stevie take us out of here today. Sing it with me now: "We are amazed but not amused by all the things you say that you do..."

Please note how the entire audience is gettin' a jam on. This is from 1974 and the lyrics still go hard in the paint. Bougie out... Thoughts, comments, insights?

No Shiggity: Gloom and Doom

My least favorite people on this Shiggity List are folks that can never see the silver lining. It's all black cloud no glimmer of sun. Negative Ned, Gloomy Glenda, Sorrowful Sue, Morose Marcus - the whole lot of them make me tired.

Okay so bad things happen in this world, I get that but does focusing on the half-empty side of the glass ever help? I think not. Take the case of a sorta-friend. We used to be close but she wore me out. Everything was some drama bordering on tragedy and I realized that I would leave her presence exhausted and wrung out but exhilarated to be getting away. I moved her to my "talk to you twice a year" list. Here was our conversation from a few days ago:

Me: Hey Girl, heard you got a new job. Congrats!
Her (sighing): They are working me like a damn slave and I'm underpaid.
Me: Well, at least after nine months you found something... that's a blessing.
Her: Not hardly, between gas and childcare and my nerves I barely break even.
Me (changing subject): How are the kids?
Her: Those little monsters like to drive me crazy.
Me (trying to keep it positive): But everybody's healthy?
Her: Yeah girl, shoot - eating me out of house and home.
Me (sensing I just need to hit the Eject button on the whole conversation): Well... okay. Just checking in to make sure everything is everything.
Her: Did you ever finish that book?
Me (rolling eyes, she only got  all 12 emails I sent out about it): Yeah, it's in stores now. 
Her: Anybody buying it?
Me (biting tongue that's already in cheek): One or two folks. 
Her: I would pick it up but you know my money's tight. 
Me: Um-hmm, well if you ask nicely I'll see about getting you a promo copy.
Her: Why didn't you say that in the first place? We could get together for some drinks this weekend?
Me (thinking Heckie Naw): Oh my time is tight right now but I'll drop it in the mail.
Her: You seeing somebody?
Me (not wanting to get into it): Working on it.
Her: He probably ain't about sh!t, just like the rest of them. You know T is marrying that young girl he left me for.
Me (five years ago he left!): It's been a few years.
Her: Anyway, don't make my mistake and marry a pretty boy. They are only in it for themselves.
Me (thinking T was not all that pretty): You know I don't like to fight for mirror time with the fellas.
Her: Well don't end up with a ruffneck either, my sister just had to file charges on her man.
Me (remembering why I backed away before): Well thanks for calling girl - stay well.
Her: Call me when you break up and are ready to go out again.
Me (gritting teeth): Nice. Bye girl.

Why's it got to be so hard? I know life has kicked us all in the tail a time or two but the bitter bitchiness... not attractive. We've talked about Bitterness before so I'll just leave off here. Try a smile people. Power of positive thinking. A please, a thank you, a have a nice day. Every now and then try sunshine and Skittles.

Have a lovely weekend, feel free to share your thoughts...

No Shiggity: Holier than Thou folks

"Listen sister, your Jesus may not be like mine!" These words were fired at me during a church lifegroup session where I innocently (okay maybe not so innocently) asked how one particular woman who was constantly smacking us around with her goodness and holiness reconciled lying to her friends and family for ten years about something fairly important. She said she was positive that Jesus forgave her and understood why she had to keep lying. Umm... I wondered if Jesus was that cool with repetitive sin for selfish reasons? And that's when I got screamed at. 
So most of you know, I love me some Jesus... but I don't pretend like I don't have quite the ways to go in my Christian walk. So while I will rep for JC on the regular, I tend not to beat folks upside the head with the Biblical Badgering. We all know some folks who call themselves Christian, stay up in the church house and still act any old kind of way. Check out this BougieTale: 

I met Brad through friends. We introduced ourselves through email and then the phone. Our first phone conversation was four and a half hours long. (For the record, that means nothing. Don't fall in love with the first phone call. Some folks, myself included, have mastered the art of giving good phone. Okay, here ends the PSA) It was our third phone conversation when he brought up his deeply conservative religious beliefs and how one of the reasons why a superb catch like him hadn't found a lifemate was because he could not find a women who had her Jesus game tight enough for him. 

He followed up that conversation by sending me a twelve page list of bible verses that he wanted me to "take into my spirit." Let me pause right here. Had I sounded so heathen that I needed someone sending me a booklet full of faith? Truth be told, I already knew half of his "cut-n-paste" verses and could have found the others if pressed. Dang! I sent him back a note telling him that I was already in a Bible Study but thanks. He sent back a note saying he wanted me to get to "his level." So at this point, I was starting to get a little irritated.

The following weekend he came up from Houston and we chatted some more over dinner. During the course of the meal, he dropped some other opinions (Michelle Obama wasn't attractive enough for Barack, Black people made too many excuses not to succeed, Condoleezza Rice's resume was not that impressive, Barack's cigarette smoking indicated that he was a deeply flawed human being?) that quite frankly left me stuttering and speechless. As you can imagine, I'm not often stuttering or speechless. 

So I did what I usually do when making a decision: Pros vs Cons. He was intelligent, good-looking, we had chemistry but on the downside he was preachy and pompous. I wondered how that would balance out. 

He went back to Houston and we kept talking on the phone over the course of the next few weeks. I noticed that he kept bringing up a number of "women friends" he had. Kept casually mentioning them "dropping by." One night after he asked me about my sex life and how I was scratching the itch (O__o), I asked about all the ladies. He said, "Oh, you found my Achilles' heel. I have to have sex often, it's my thing."

[strategic pause]

Hold up, Pope Poke-a-lot! All these women he had been mentioning were friends with benefits? And he was benefiting them all?! He admitted that he regularly rotated about 10 women [yes, you read TEN. Five times Two] and hoped I did not have a problem with it because that's what he needed until he got married again. Again? Now what now? And what about all the Jesus? What about your daily walk? He said (no joke exact quote), "It's my one flaw. But Jesus made me, he knows my spirit, he knows my heart. I have prayed for him to take this weakness away but this is my compromise." Uh-huh. 

"So you're looking for one woman who can satisfy you (replacing ten women) AND cook, clean, work, stay in shape, dress well, be politically active and get her 24/7 Jesus and charitable works on?" 

His response: "Is that a problem?"

I know now that my response should have been what Sister Girl told me: "Your Jesus ain't like mine." Suffice it to say, I shut that down. Not looking back.

Thoughts, comments, opinions? Know any SuperSinning Saints? The floor is yours.

No Shiggity: Pimpin' without Paper

For those not in the know, pimpin' without paper is living flagrantly beyond one's means. 

Why do we do it? Goodness knows I used to be guilty of this back in the day but I'm too old for nonsense now. As a matter of fact, I try like hell to pay cash for as much as I can. My "if I can't pay for it outright, I don't need it" philosophy took me ten years to fully embrace and sometimes it's still not easy but knowing at the end of the day that everything under my roof is owned by me and not a bank... priceless. I spend way more on books, music, clothes and shoes than I should. I gave away eight bags of clothes and shoes in the last six weeks and my closets (yes, plural) are still full. But I own it all, bless my heart. So today's peeve is: why do folks always try to be glossy and flossy with zero bank to back it up? 

Folks wanna drive an Escalade on Escort dollars. Want Champagne on a beer budget? Wanna live Malibu when your bank account screams MLK Blvd? Rocking designer labels when you're dining on peanut butter and last week's tuna casserole? This is pimpin' without paper, blingin' without bank, cheesin' with no cheddar, mackin' with no mayo, swagga with no scrilla... Do I need to go further in the ebonics dictionary? No? Okay you get my point. 

It's just not cute, ya'll. My girl, Yvonne Bynoe, offers services to help folks step their financial game up no matter how limited your income. Please check her out, so you don't have to be this guy:

A few months ago, I was chilling in the Starbuck's as I tend to do. I was reading the Wall Street Journal which I actually don't do that often anymore. Suddenly into the relative peace of the morning, rolls a huge shiny "Pimp My Ride"-style Hummer. Black, chromed out, giant tires, just all sparkly and whatnot. Bass bumpin' to the point that I had to move my purse off of the table and onto the chair to keep it from falling over.  Out jumps Doing Too Much Dude. Designer jeans fastened with huge belt buckle, shirt a little tight tucked in only in the front so ev'body can see the designer name on the buckle. Rocking iced-out over-sized watch, iPhone clutched in one hand like a lifeline and sunglasses on even though it's cloudy as hell outside.

He pimp walks in and stands in the doorway waiting for people to look at him. I glance up, refrain from rolling my eyes and look back down. He walks straight to me like he knows me, "What you up to, sister?" I tilt my head towards the paper and say, "Reading." He takes the paper out of my hand, looks at what I'm reading and says, "Oh you follow stocks and stuff?" Me, "A little bit." He nods, "One of those 401(k) sisters, I see you. Siddity and don't need a man." My eyes narrow to slits... all of that, bruh? But I smiled and said, "You have a blessed day, brother."

He shrugs. "Whatever." He walks over to the counter and orders some sort of venti latte half something, I don't know. The woman told him it was $5.29 and he handed over some plastic. It was declined. Dude had three dollars and a dime in his pocket which he handed over and had her put the remaining $2.19 on his card. It was declined. He started talking loudly about how somebody must have been messing with his money and she could just make it a tall. He paid his $2.74 and walked out muttering under his breath.

Now let me say this. I wasn't laughing at old boy. I've been broke before and may well be again. There's no shame in not having money in the bank. It happens. There's no shame in living modestly. But why you pushing a luxury automobile, designer everything and a brand new iPhone and mad about me reading the finance section? You may want to get a peek yourself if you can't rustle up $5.00 for coffee. 

As a matter of fact, why are you buying $5.00 coffee if ya broke? BougieMom and I invested in a Cuisinart Grind-n-Brew and the Starbuck's beans from the wholesale warehouse when we realized our coffee budget was out of control.  Throw some International Delight creamer up in there and it's golden... just saying. Doesn't mean we never go to Starbuck's, it just means we did the math: if both of us get coffee at $4.00 each every day; we were spending $56.00/week to get a sip of mocha on. There are 52 weeks in a year, that equaled $2912 to Starbuck's in a year... no sir. Can't do it. Not condemning those who do, mind you. Just thinking about disposable income and priorities.

So to folks who have a $50,000 car parked in front of a shack, have four flat-screens but haven't paid child support in six months, spend more on red-soled shoes than you put in your IRA/401(k), carry six kinds of plastic (at 22% interest?) and zero cash, put your entire bonus check into rims and sub-woofers, worry more about hair care than healthcare... you are On. My. List.

What's with the pimpin' with no paper? Stories of pimpin' paupers to share? Thoughts, comments, insights? Do share...

No Shiggity: Please grow up

Cue the music... Hit it Teddy: "I like the way you work it. (No shiggity) Got to back it up. (Back it up) No shiggity. No doubt." What? That's not the way the song went? Maybe we can get T.R. to remake "No Diggity" into "No Shiggity" just for us... whatcha think? No? Okay... moving on.

Welcome to No Shiggity Week on BnB! For those A Different World aficionados out there, in the last two seasons Jenifer Lewis played the Dean who walked around with a notebook and anytime someone got out of line she wrote it down and said through clenched teeth, "You are ON. MY. LIST!" Tell 'em, sister. Point is... this week, I have a list too. 

Let's start out with grown folks (over the age of 25) who still act childish. I mean childish to the point where you have to say and wonder, "Seriously?" I have no patience for that form of shiggity. 

Here are some examples...

Vince, New Dude's friend, rolled over to his house at one a.m. (Yes, that's 1:00 in the mornin') Saturday and laid on the doorbell. Now it just so happened that I had drunk coffee at 6:00 pm and New Dude had taken a five hour nap and we were wide awake on the sofa... that's not the point. The point is why is a 42-year old man showing up at his friend's house uninvited after dark on the regular? Derrick, to his credit, did not move once he leaned back and saw it was Vince's car out front. He pulled out his cell and sent a text: "Not coming to the door, go the eff home." Vince hit the doorbell one more time and Derrick typed: "If you're bleeding call 911. Drunk? Call a cab. Otherwise, bye." We heard Vince muttering something under his breath as he walked back to his car. Grow up and get some manners. And a new girlfriend to occupy your time.

My friend that I'll name Jackie is a single parent with one daughter in college, no job and a retirement plan that she already borrowed against. She just turned fifty. Still talking about opening some sort of company (she hasn't defined exactly what it will do or how) and making her first million. No real plans, nothing in the back, no real anchor if something else goes wrong. She's just kinda out there in the wind. Waiting on the lottery or Prince Charming, I don't know. Grow up and get a clue. Even if you have to start entry level again somewhere, you can put in five years and re-vest in a retirement plan. 

This next one hurts me to write but it must be done. I've had three of my virtual "little brothers" reach out in the past week for relationship advice. All three are professional single men over the age of 30 living in large major cities. They are employed and working their way up and all three swear they are tired of dating and ready to find Mrs. Right. They came at me with the "I can't find a woman to meet my standards" line. And as of last week, all three of them were juggling multiple women (good women at that) and still looking to add more to the playlist. If you are serious about finding The One, grow up and quit playing with many. These women are auditioning to be your wife, not part of a rotating team. Pick your best single option, see how far it goes and cut everyone else loose. You really don't have to sample all 31 flavors at Baskin-Robbins once you find one that's your favorite. Welcome to your thirties.

Okay, off the soapbox for the day. Do you have a few "please grow up" points you'd like to make today? Thoughts, comments, insights?