Open Letters

The Obligatory Open Letter to Tyler Freakin’ Perry

Ya'll know I'm not a Tyler Perry fan. I've talked about my reasons several times before. This post isn't about that.

For those unaware, there was a  The Boondocks episode by Aaron McGruder recently that was a both-barrels-loaded, no-holds-barred satire on Tyler Perry's empire. The Cartoon Network's broadcast included a musical number called "It's alright to Cross Dress for Christ" and enough borderline homophobic references to make the most enlightened of us cringe. Creating a character called "Winston Jerome" he took potshots at Madea, Tyler's sexuality, Jesus and Kool-aid (you'd have to see it, I can't explain it). The show hit some salient points about the whole "pause/no homo" ebonics usage but really just lampooned Mr. Perry.

People instantly took sides. Tyler Perry folks, Aaron McGruder folks and everyone in between debated the "validity of the satire" and whether it was just plain mean-spirited. (More mean-spirited than the hot mess that was Why Did I Get Married Too? But I digress…) Here's the episode: (I wouldn't play it at work and if you're easily offended, this is SO not for you)


It did not take long for Mr. Perry to weigh in. Sources say Mr. Perry went to Turner Broadcasting (the parent company for both Cartoon Network and TBS where Perry's negrotastic sitcoms are housed) and basically said "him or me." He is requesting that the episode entitled "Pause" be pulled. This sets my teeth on edge for a number of reasons. I really tried not to tweet or post about it but now I'm ticked off.


Dear Mr. Perry,

Let me see if I understand… it's fine for you to dress up like somebody's gun-totin' electric-slidin' grandma (for a gazillion films, plays and tv shows) but it's not okay for someone to mock you for it? It's fine for you to peddle some of the hot-mess tomfoolery you've recycled for years but no one can call you on it? At least when McGruder goes off the grid, he can call it a satirical license. What exactly is your excuse?

Not that I would ever tell folks to take advice from will.i.am but um... you really should. He took the skewering McGruder gave him in the video "D*ck-Ridin' Obama" and just tweeted his response and vowed to keep on keeping on. Did he go to his label's parent company (Interscope/Universal) and ask them to squash rumored negotiations to distribute a Boondocks soundtrack? No he did not. You know why?

Because it looks petulant and petty to go whining to the principal when someone doesn't play nice in the sandbox. And by the way, methinks thou doth protest too much. So, he called "Winston Jerome" the leader of a homoerotic Christian theater cult and intimated that you are a megalomaniac with an unhealthy addiction to lotioned up men... so what? You're a gazillionaire. Nothing he said will stop the folks that love your product from lapping it up. By the way... Don't you need to be working on not jacking up For Colored Girls? Please?

Not that you need my advice because you are clearly in the hustle zone without it but just let this go. If you want to say McGruder is hatin' let him hate. You trying to throw your weight around reflects far worse on you then him. And in case no one else has told you this, the more his episode airs... the more people are going to look at your product to see what's true. If you hate the role he cast you in, show us something else.

Sincerely (and please, please don't jack up For Colored Girls),

OneChele

I'm not going to get into a whole lotta TP debate. I will ask this, who thinks the episode went too far? What do you think of TPs decision to go to Turner? Thoughts, comments, insights?

An open letter to Le Tigre: Stop with the Peaches, go with a Paulina Porizkova

Hey Eldrick,

Rough year, huh? The ass-whipping, the rehab, the injuries, personal drama and whatnot. I want to sympathize, breaking up is hard to do and all but um – you SO brought this on yourself. Karma is a bee-yotch. An evil boomerang of a vindictive witch just waiting for you to stand up again so it can whack you in the head. But I guess you know that by now, huh? And you know, it was not just the pathological lying and cheating and the terrible sexting, whatever. Keep a penicillin shot and a non-disclosure agreement with you at all times, quote Barry White in your texts and if that fails you have the option to roll up on women and say "Just Do It" – I mean you kinda own Nike, right? These are just suggestions.

My main point is this: You brought this on yourself with the choice of spouse to begin with. You proposed to Peaches, not Paulina.

Okay so maybe Elin isn't the exact Caucasian equivalent of Peaches from around the way but she was close enough. You can call her a supermodel if you want to. Call me a Pulitzer Prize winner while you're at it. She wasn't and I'm not… yet. J That überNordic chick was a nanny. NTTAWWT (Not That There's Anything Wrong With That). It's an honest way to make a living. But when your net worth is over a billion dollars and you know you're a closet p!-hound you need to marry a real supermodel, someone hustlin' for their own dollars. You like those Eastern European types, that's why I mention a Paulina. I'm sure there's a 20-year old equivalent out there. Or maybe you've decided to go exotic this time around? Get you one of those Brazilian Bikini chicks if you don't wanna flow to the Iman/Naomi side of the spectrum.

The thing is when you marry the nanny; you end up with a nanny who has become accustomed to living like a billionaire's wife. Now your exploits get splashed all over every available media outlet and some judge wanting to make history gives your nanny/wife 750 million dollars. Seven hundred and fifty million. (Somewhere somebody just started head-boppin' to Get Money). Homie, that's a sponsored come up for real tho. Monsieur Tigre, that is more than the country of Iceland needed to avoid bankruptcy last year. I added that not to be mean but just in case you needed some perspective… Iceland could get a loan from your nanny/wife.

Moving on...

Let me plead with you right now…step your game up. Not your golf game; I'm sure that will be fine. Your relationship game, sir. I won't waste typing time telling you how many sisters would be honored to have you cheat on them and then set up their next five generations with wealth. No need for that. I'm just saying how about you snag somebody with their own dollars? Someone who brings a little more to the table than a blonde ponytail and adoring smile? I'm not knocking Elin, she clearly has enough on the ball to catch you, keep you and toss you back while retaining (let me type it again) $$750MM of your money.

And actually, might I suggest before you go looking for your Paulina that you work out whatever's going on with you? I don't know what kind of clinic you attended or where your head is but I have to assume you don't have another ¾ of a BILLION dollars to parcel out to the next one. If you don't plan to play by the rules, don't even bother with the marriage vows. Mayhaps a series of flings? Again here's hoping you choose some ladies that don't look like cheap wanna-be porn stars working the food court in a mall in Jersey? (No shade to Jersey… just sayin' the side pieces were a damn disgrace in more ways than one)

Well, good luck to you. Just wanted to share my thoughts. I'm positive you've been waiting for them with baited breath.

Keep it Pimpin',
OneChele

Have anything you'd like to say to Le Tigre? I'm sure my blog is on his morning reading list.

The Case of the Tweet-n-Run: An Open Letter

Pardon me while I handle some BnB internal business...

This open letter is on behalf of one of my Twitter friends. She was one of the first people to reach out to me on Twitlandia and is just flat out good people. I absolutely adore her. In my adoration, I semi-set her up with a dude from BougieLand. Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa and colossal fail on my part. What had happened was... This gentleman hunted me down and begged for an introduction and an endorsement. He was (in his words) dazzled by the intelligence and charm of my friend and wanted to holler. I directed him to her website and Facebook page; he was more charmed and enthusiastic than before.

So I spoke with him, background checked him (which he agreed to and paid for). According to his background, he is divorced with one child, degreed, professional, solvent and without criminal history. I spoke with him again – hey, I'm a Human Resources girl, I interview folks and I generally know what to look for. After a discussion with him and a follow-up with her, I green-lit the introduction.

In the beginning, he was fun, he was flirty and it was banter, wit, and a little bit of sizzle. He flirted hard, he flirted regularly. He made plans and promises. He shared life anecdotes. All of this over Twitter (which was the first issue). Why Twitter only? No gchat, no skype, no fifty-million other venues? Finally, he got her phone number, made arrangements to call, set up plans to meet face to face and then… nothing. He popped up on BougieLand here and there with a comment or two, sent her a couple of half-assed tweets about some drama in his life and then… nothing. Fade to black. But this morning, he sent me a note (why me and not her, I don't know) asking if I thought he should contact her this weekend. (After 2 ½ weeks of zero contact?)

So because she's too classy to do it… allow me to say how I feel about that…

Dear Dude (you know who you are),

I'm not fond of grown-assed men who don't know their own minds and waste people's time. I'm not fond of men who chase women, hide behind equivocal language and then throw down a smoke bomb and disappear into the mist. I have a healthy sense of humor, but I'm not amused. One you pass the age of forty, game-playing isn't cute. Oh hell, it's not cute past twenty. The thing was… you were so completely "earnest" in your longing to get to know that person. I mean you worked hard to get the intro. And worked even harder to garner her interest. You did all but stalk the girl so fervent was your avowal that this was someone you simply had to get to know.

Sure, it's your prerogative to change your mind. It's your option not to pursue someone that you chased (hard and at some expense). And sure, I get that it was Twitter so how seriously should we take it all. You are allowed to simply fall back. I'm not saying what you did was a heinous crime… I'm saying it was trifling and rude. And a little bit unnecessary.

It's not as though you've gone missing. You're still tweeting and blogging and chatting away so we know you're alive and apparently well. What you did was start a conversation, up the intensity to red-hot and then stop speaking mid-sentence and leave the room. We call that mixed messages. Or in this case… a Tweet–n–Run.

The flirting was fine, the banter was fine. But why the full court press? Why all the personal questions? Why set up the coffee/tea/cocktail date? Why ask for the number and never use it? Was it a game, a diversion, something to pass the time? Did you meet someone else? Just what? Oh wait; you did have a lame explanation: you said "your interest and intentions were good but your follow-through and execution sucked". Nice to know and thank you for that bit of honesty. Here's some for you in return…

  1. It's just as irritating when men run hot and cold as when women do it.
  2. There's a phrase: don't start none, won't be none. Re-read and repeat.
  3. Remember when I recommended that you bring your "A" game to the table? This isn't it, is it?
  4. The person you should ask if you still have a shot? You have her phone number - use it. Don't tweet it, don't text it, call.
  5. You can forget any other attempts at a BougieLand hook-up. The Bougie Babes are off-limits to you now.

Anyway, good luck to you sir. It's my experience that once you raise a woman's expectations and then dash them, it's tough to get back in the game but go head on with your bad self. If you're going back in, I would strong suggest you go in with more than a tweet and a smile. You take care now. And watch where you tweet. I see you.

Sincerely,

OneChizzle

Okay, I feel better now. Thank you BougieLand for allowing me to handle that bit of administrative business. Unfortunately, there's no adequate interview process that screens for flaky. I'll be interested to see if said Dude responds. In the meantime, ever had a potential S.O. just disappear, no explanation? Have you ever faded to black on someone after chasing the hell out of them? As always… your thoughts, comments and insights are welcome. The floor is yours.

Are you ready to get real? (An Open Letter to an Idiot a Friend)

I had to take a pause for the cause (sort of). Today was going to be Are you Ready to Stand and Deliver? It was going to be a scathing commentary on Mike Steele, Tea Party Shenanigans and ReThugs. I was going to exhort you all to get involved on a local level to beat back propaganda, ignorance and hate. I was going to bitch at length about Confederate History Month in Virginia and whip you all up into an indignant fury over the latest trend of flaunting racism and camouflaging it as "conservative policies." It was going to be epic. But I got derailed by a series of phone calls.

Do we recall the story of my friend Sam? Long-time friend who invited me to a concert but had a whole sexpectation agenda going on? Yeah, him. Today he sent a text to say he had tickets to the Maxwell/Jill Scott concert on June 8th and would I be interested in going. Hmm. First of all, the concert is three months away… why ask so far in advance? Secondly, did he think I FORGOT what he really wanted the last time he asked me to a concert? No matter how much I covet the tickets (and I really do) what am I, stupid? I replied back that I'm going with somebody else (I'll work on it).

Sam decided to respond with a phone call. After a little internal debate, I let it go to voicemail. He called back… seven (7!) times… AND left messages each time. For my male readers out there – please cosign with me that one call and one voicemail is sufficient, two is overkill and seven indicates a bigger problem, does it not? ANY way, everyone who knows me well knows that if I talk to you, you're okay. But if I feel like I have to WRITE YOU A LETTER… it's so not good. Here's my letter to Sam…

Dear Sam,

I listened to the first four of your seven messages, I assumed that was enough to grasp the main idea. You implied that I've perpetrated some colossal fraud on you over the course of the past few years. Somehow toyed with your emotions and what was your phrase? "Dangled" myself in front of you. Like wow. I'm pretty sure I can honestly say I've never dangled myself in front of anybody. I'm not sure I'd know how. This also tells me you've paid NO attention to who I am and how I act. If I was dangle-inclined, I would have just said so. Life is too short for the game playing. But I suspect you don't know nothin' 'bout that. You also implied that I'm just mean. Well, I can be but I haven't been mean to you. Here's hoping you never see the mean side of Michele.

I've decided the best way to respond is to include you in my Are You Ready week on BnB. So let me ask you… are you ready to get real? I mean really real? You ready? Okay good…

What's real is that I've known you for close to four years and you have been unable to maintain a meaningful relationship with any woman for more than a two week time period. I gave keeping up with the names of the "ladies" you have been embroiled with. But have you ever wondered why you can't find someone to put up with you for more than two dates? I really haven't wanted to speculate but now I'm beginning to wonder.

What's real is that you don't seem to understand nuances. Sex vs. Love, Smile vs. Come On, Friend vs. Flirt, No thank you vs. I hate you. I turned down your invitation to this concert because your last invitation led to an uncomfortable situation. I was preserving what was left of our casual friendship. Read those last two words again: casual friendship.

What's real is that I never indicated that I wanted to be any more than friends after our initial "date" which was a disaster of epic proportions. So bad in fact that we had to laugh and decide to be friends just so that something positive could come out of that horrid an experience. But now I'm wondering if you are a different person when you date someone than when you are "just friends" because we have hung out and laughed and talked like human beings until you decided to turn it into something else altogether.

What's really real is that I did miss every clue you swear you gave about wanting to be more than friends. Which makes me wonder what the hell kind of clues you threw my way? This may be part of the problem. You don't know when to come direct and correct and when not to. For the record, a "Michele, I want out of the friend zone" would have been a great start. No it would not have netted the result you wanted but I would have known what you were thinking or feeling.

What's real is that I was insulted by your "sexpectations" and no, it's not because I'm a prude. It's because you came at me all sideways. Even if you "didn't realize" that I wouldn't appreciate your tactics, do you really not know women well enough to know better?

What's real is that I suspect something else is going on that I know nothing about because all of that seven-call drama seems over the top. Even for you.

What's real is that I'm going to give you all the space and time in the world to work it out. And I wish you luck with that.

Also what's real is that I hope you're not insulted that I sent you the link to this post instead of calling you back. It's not passive-aggressive, it's drama avoidance. Plus you make great blog fodder. Apologies but you do.

As long as you're reading, please jump back to the rest of this week's posts on being relationship ready and ready to grow up. Okay, that statement might have been a little passive-aggressive. My bad. You can feel free to leave your comment here (thought I suspect you won't) because I won't be answering that call or text any time soon. Hope this answers your questions.

Keeping it Real,

Michele

BougieLand – did you ever have someone that you had to get really real with? Does it really seem possible that a man would be interested in a woman for years and not make some sort of move? I mean, we're grown, this isn't high school. Le Sigh. Comments, thoughts and opinions always welcome. The floor is yours…

The Remix: Dear Microsoft, I wish I knew how to quit you!

OneChele writes an open letter to Microsoft:

Dear Microsoft,

I feel betrayed. I have defended you and stayed with you when time after time you have done me wrong. I stayed when people implored me to leave. I have downloaded upgrade after upgrade of Windows. I left WordPerfect and QuattroPro to embrace MS Office when you guaranteed me no drama. The price of this relationship escalates exponentially, I'm not sure I can afford to be with you anymore.

Speaking of expensive, I flirted with Apple to experience a different way of life but quickly realized that adding anything beyond the basics is too high a price. I had a brief affair with Netscape when your browser demanded update after incessant update. But Netscape couldn't give me what I needed. Just when I thought you and I could co-exist peaceably, you suckered me into Vista. L

There's no easy way to say this… Vista sucks. The amount of memory needed to operate this with any efficiency literally drains me. The constant permission asking and hidden programs running and upgrade/solution/update nonsense are too exhausting. And still I persevered. Then you introduced Office 2007 and rocked my world… not in a good way. All the easy shortcuts and simplistic commands that worked so well in the past have been replaced with slick-looking menus that as might as well be in Greek. What happened to ease of use? Why did it take me DAYS to configure line-spacing in Word? What is all the goobledy-gook in the Table Menu in Excel? Why does Outlook freeze for no reason?

Okay, I learned to work with it. After all, we've been together for so long that I couldn't even imagine being with anybody else. And then you forced me to upgrade to a new Internet Explorer. This was the last straw. My once quick and agile computer slowed to a crawl. Pages that opened in seconds now required me to go get a cup of coffee and then come back. Don't try and blame it on the size of my hard drive, speed or memory. It's not me… it's you!

A few months ago, a dear friend introduced me to Google Chrome. And even though you tried to make it hard for me to leave by declaring that nothing would work as well as you and things would never look the same, I defied you and left anyway. I have no frozen pages, my images load with the greatest of ease. Today, my new love Chrome gifted me with an awesome upgrade that already warms my heart.

Just you wait, Microsoft. If Google hooks up Gmail with more bells and whistles, I'm dropping Outlook. I've already started looking around for an Office Suite replacement and I swear for God my next laptop is going to be XP. You can keep your Vista. [Updated note: My new laptop has Windows 7 and Office 2010 beta - we'll see how it all works out] Let Google (or anyone else) come out with an operating system that doesn't require an update every two days… I'm out!

You have abused my trust for the last time; I'm going to have to go Lauryn Hill on you: I used to love him, now I don't. Yes, it's the break up, Microsoft. Shocking after all my years of loyalty and fealty but it's time. When you miss me I'm gone,

OneChele

P.S. Love to Bill, I'm still down with him if he and Melinda want to fund a black blogger… I'm just saying.

Can you tell I'm having computer drama? How many of you have left Internet Explorer behind?

Open Letter to Bookstore Dude, we’ll call this BougieTale a #HollaFail

My twitter friend @CarolynEdgar coined the phrase "HollaFail" yesterday to describe some grown dude trying to holla out of the passenger window of a car (No Scrubs, sir. No Scrubs). For those in need of an ebonic to bougie translation – HollaFail = an epic failed attempt to pick up someone of the opposite sex for romantic purposes. Anyway, I'm stealing the term for this BougieTale about the fella I met at the bookstore on Sunday. I decided to pen him a little note:

Hey Dude,

Remember me? Sweats, ponytail minding my own business in the fiction section? You came up all handsome smiles to the magazine section next to me. And while, "Um, hey, um," may not be the smoothest opening line I've ever heard; your flashing dimples make it seem okay. It was clear by the way you grabbed the first magazine your eyes fell on and then immediately turned back to me with the dimples and eye-twinkle that this was a roll up. Even though I'm on a self-proclaimed man-break, you were cute enough for me to at least smile and chat. So I did. Your conversation wasn't all that deep but you held your own enough to recognize when I was digging for information and toss the conversation ball back across the net. Good for you.

From outside of our A-to-B conversation, it was obvious there was a flirt vibe going on between us. I smiled and met your gaze, you stepped closer. The conversation was very "you go-I go-you-go-again". All cool.

But I wonder, cute dude. What were you thinking trying to pick up one girl in the bookstore when you know you came in with your girlfriend? My, that was an awkward moment when she walked up and asked me who the hell I was and why I was talking to her man. By the way, it's YOUR job (as boyfriend) to answer that question. Not mine. Notice how I stayed silent? And when I gave you the "look" and walked away, your NEXT choice of action SHOULD have been explaining to her that you did not know me and were just chatting about whatever magazine was in your hand.

It was not wise of you to stand there next to your very pissed off girlfriend and decide to come after ME. What exactly were you thinking when you took two steps forward, reached out and tapped me on my shoulder saying, "Wait a minute"? Wait for what?

Dude, you know what kind of girlfriend you have. You have a girl that gets a) threatened when you talk to other women b) angry when she feels threatened and c) loud when she's angry. That's a bad combination, sir.

I am sorry she called you out your name and smacked you upside the head with her large and apparently heavy purse. But I do appreciate you regaining your balance in time to keep her from swinging at me. I'm not a fighter but I will dial 911 and report a crazy chick in a heartbeat. You definitively saved her from catching a case on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

In conclusion Bookstore Dude, was it worth it? I know you caught unholy hell the rest of the evening (assuming she's not still wailing away on you right now). Did you learn a lesson? Did anyone ever tell you not to dangle a rose in front of a daisy? Any of this making sense? Le Sigh, probably not. Just for your information though, we call this a HollaFail.

Best of luck to you, OneChele

BougieLand – just tell me why? Believe me, it is NOT that I was looking so yummylicious that he just had to roll up. So why? Why cause drama knowing old girl is there? Have you ever had this happen to you where all of a sudden you were in the middle of a Hot Mess you never asked for? Please share your thoughts, comments, and insights into this bit of tomfoolery. The floor is yours.

An open letter to my fellow bloggers: Use your powers for good

... the mouth speaks what the heart is full of. --Jim Beggs

Monday was a day in which I read one too many articles criticizing people (black women) for things that just aren't that critical. Buoyed by the endorphin high following yoga and step aerobics, I typed out this letter. Apologies if it's over the top. Without further ado…

Dear other bloggers,

Hi there! [waves] How are ya'll doing? I just wanted to say hello… and a few other things. Respectfully, I totally get that your blog is personal to you. You probably started it because you love to write and had a few things to say. Good for you. Let me ask you this though… once you developed a bit of a following and you realized that people actually paid attention to what you had to say… did that give you any sense of responsibility? You know, as far as content and tone? Not getting all up in your business… just wondering.

It might just be me. After blogging for a little over six months, I've gotten a feel for a lot of my readers and so I often make a conscientious effort to temper my opinions and declarations in such a way as to not be over the top combative or condescending. Though I could if I wanted to, I chose not to use my words like heat-seeking missiles aimed at making the most visible explosion possible. But I've never been a "look at me, look at me" person. What some people may view as a fun, topical post, others may view as self-serving grab for attention.

People have the capacity to be both incredibly strong and incredibly fragile all at the same time. And for the young females out there… well, I think the sisterhood deserves support, positivity and constructive criticism from their chosen bloggers. Keyword: Constructive.

Because I don't care to further promote some of the off-the-chain posts (and yes there have been more than one) that prompted this letter, I'm going to use an analogy featuring the fruitilicious candy known as Skittles. You with me? Let's just say that I have a lot of readers who love Skittles. Skittles make them feel good about themselves. Maybe there was a Skittles void in their past and they are making up for it now. Maybe Skittles are crazy expensive as opposed to say – organic, natural carrot sticks but who am I to judge someone for loving their rainbow goodies? Being aware of this Skittles-dependency among my readership, would I then write a flaming post about the evils of Skittles? How much I hate Skittles and look down on anybody who enjoys them? Would I spend hours (and I do mean hours) going in across all level of social media about how Skittles are what's wrong with the world today and I would never be caught dead hugged up next to a Skittle-eater?

I can hear my folks in BougieLand now – girl, it's just Skittles. I KNOW but then folks start going IN about how they've never had Skittles because they are too secure about themselves to ever ever eat a Skittle. Organic carrot sticks are the only way to go and anyone who doesn't cosign is a fraud. The Hell? Aw yes, now there is an entire sociology behind Skittles and people have to start taking sides – Skittles vs. Carrot Sticks. To this I say, why? What good did it do to go THAT hard about Skittles KNOWING the tsunami of ill-will and flame throwing that it would kick off? You don't like Skittles, don't eat them.

Okay then, in conclusion fellow bloggers, this is the American Blogosphere. You have the right to say anything you want to. But does that mean you should? And can we not agree that it's not always WHAT you say but HOW you say it? A finishing thought from En Vogue:

Yours in blogging, OneChele

Bougienistas - Let's make a pact… if I ever get preachy – one of ya'll call me on it, okay? I mean just stop me in my tracks and say – Chele, get off your high horse, you're not that crucial. If I ever get so desperate for page hits and readers that I just decide to go tabloid blogger, please feel free to virtually slap the sh!t outta me. Clear? Good. Woo-sah, let me take a breath. Read anything in the blogosphere that got your blood boiling lately?

An Open Letter: I’m sorry but your player card has been revoked


Dear Dude from Last Night,

It truly pains me to inform you of the following: I have submitted my evidence to the International Player-Player Association's (IPPA) membership advisory board. You will be receiving a certified letter later this week informing you that based on last night's wackness… your card is being revoked. Herewith. Immediately. Before you decide to appeal the decision (good luck with that), please review the infractions listed below:

  1. When you call less than an hour before a date and say, "Instead of going to the movies, why don't you come over and watch a movie?" why would you think a woman can't see through that? Any female over the age of 18 recognizes that. In the words of Riley Freeman (from the Boondocks), "Game recognize game and you looking kinda unfamiliar right now." #PlayerFail


  2. When you call a female on her way to meet you and say, "Just swing by and pick me up," and you own two cars (and this is following call from number 1), your transparency is bordering on pathetic. Why not just call up and ask for what you really want? That way said female can tell you "yea" or "nay" up front without all the subpar gamesmanship. #PlayerFail


  3. When you invite a woman into your home, it's not a good look to have your laptop open with a screensaver of random women in various stages of undress. Especially when I can recognize that most of the pictures were taken right in the room in which I was standing at that moment. #PlayerFail


  4. You invited a woman into your home and did not clean up from the last one? Why is her Victoria's Secret Miracle Bra hanging on the bathroom door handle? Don't even try it… I know it's not mine because 1) I have not removed a bra in your vicinity and 2) I need no miracle to enhance my girls. #PlayerFail


  5. Next time you pick a movie, why don't you double check the time it starts so we don't have to hover around the theater for a half hour waiting for it to start. Oooh, you never really planned for us to get to the theater… okay, I just got that. Still, you know what – tighten up your plan B. #PlayerFail


  6. Once you determine that your current date isn't going as planned, it's really poor protocol to commence texting and accessing your Facebook mobile app trolling for someone else to "close the deal" <--- yes, I saw you type that in. #PlayerFail

Presented with the evidence, the IPPA had no choice but to demand an immediate revocation of your player card and reset your Playa Status to: No Game At All. Your letter will include instructions on how to re-apply and upgrade your status. As for your application with OneChele for Potential Significant Other, I must report that you are no longer considered a viable candidate and we have decided to move forward with other more qualified applicants at this time. Also, we are unable to keep your application on file and you are not eligible to re-apply. We wish you success in your future endeavors.

Sincerely,

OneChele

P.S. Thanks for the movie and popcorn, 2012 was very entertaining. I felt the entire disaster movie theme was apropos. Deuces!

Dear Microsoft, I wish I knew how to quit you!

OneChele writes an open letter to Microsoft:

Dear Microsoft,

I feel betrayed. I have defended you and stayed with you when time after time you have done me wrong. I stayed when people implored me to leave. I have downloaded upgrade after upgrade of Windows. I left WordPerfect and QuattroPro to embrace MS Office when you guaranteed me no drama. The price of this relationship escalates exponentially, I'm not sure I can afford to be with you anymore.

Speaking of expensive, I flirted with Apple to experience a different way of life but quickly realized that adding anything beyond the basics is too high a price. I had a brief affair with Netscape when your browser demanded update after incessant update. But Netscape couldn't give me what I needed. Just when I thought you and I could co-exist peaceably, you suckered me into Vista. L

There's no easy way to say this… Vista sucks. The amount of memory needed to operate this with any efficiency literally drains me. The constant permission asking and hidden programs running and upgrade/solution/update nonsense are too exhausting. And still I persevered. Then you introduced Office 2007 and rocked my world… not in a good way. All the easy shortcuts and simplistic commands that worked so well in the past have been replaced with slick-looking menus that as might as well be in Greek. What happened to ease of use? Why did it take me DAYS to configure line-spacing in Word? What is all the goobledy-gook in the Table Menu in Excel? Why does Outlook freeze for no reason?

Okay, I learned to work with it. After all, we've been together for so long that I couldn't even imagine being with anybody else. And then you forced me to upgrade to a new Internet Explorer. This was the last straw. My once quick and agile computer slowed to a crawl. Pages that opened in seconds now required me to go get a cup of coffee and then come back. Don't try and blame it on the size of my hard drive, speed or memory. It's not me… it's you!

A few months ago, a dear friend introduced me to Google Chrome. And even though you tried to make it hard for me to leave by declaring that nothing would work as well as you and things would never look the same, I defied you and left anyway. I have no frozen pages, my images load with the greatest of ease. Today, my new love Chrome gifted me with an awesome upgrade that already warms my heart.

Just you wait, Microsoft. If Google hooks up Gmail with more bells and whistles, I'm dropping Outlook. I've already started looking around for an Office Suite replacement and I swear for God my next laptop is going to be XP. You can keep your Vista. Let Google (or anyone else) come out with an operating system that doesn't require an update every two days… I'm out!

You have abused my trust for the last time; I'm going to have to go Lauryn Hill on you: I used to love him, now I don't. Yes, it's the break up, Microsoft. Shocking after all my years of loyalty and fealty but it's time. When you miss me I'm gone,

OneChele

P.S. Love to Bill, I'm still down with him if he and Melinda want to fund a black blogger… I'm just saying.

Can you tell I'm having computer drama? How many of you have left Internet Explorer behind?