Vixen Chronicles

I took a minute or so to watch a movie last night. It was Kung Fu Hustle. I wasn't sure what I was getting into. Was it a musical? Would we see disco dancing a la John Travolta or was I going to see fighting choreographed so well I thought they were dancing? It started out with brutal slayings in a surreal looking street set, including one where a scared young woman is shot on the back and blown across the street. And then the Axe Gang danced like a Broadway scene. Parts were pretty guesome; decapitations, squashed feet, severed limbs, but in the end my daughter and I laughed so hard we were crying. The movie was like Jackie Chan meets Boradway and looney Toons with a smidget of Crouching Tiger thrown in for balance. A couple of times characters ran so fast that their legs appeared to be nothing more than a whirling circle, and they flew through the air spread in full arabesque. After it was done, it seemed to be more of a commentary on the shrew landlady with the big mouth...

Hmm. Hotlanta again. This was my first visit to Georgia's peachy heart since last year. I had come to expect great things after my least visit when the Femme Fantastic was born. (see Marrying Up's Little Black Book), but the city was so sweltering that all I wanted to do was stay in my little Buckhead Hotel room instead of going out to hunt for adventure or even mall treasure. My escorts had other plans and they finally convinced me to dress coolly and venture out onto the strip. They didn't tell me where we were going at first, it was only promised that I would be fed and that I would have a good time. I was tense, but trying to go with the flow as I watched from the car window, taking in the sites as we crept past the Atlanta lights. It goes without saying that Buckhead is trendy. We passed by several Starbucks, a slew of upscale hotels, a chain bookstore and scores of other places with original names like Uranus. Uranus was next to another place called Tongue in Groove ...

Enough Already. MTV started it with The Real World . Let's just call it The Sims in 3D. They took a bunch of misfits from all over and stuck them in a house together, with cameras that never stopped and merciless editing. It was so good, they moved them from city to city and even now to my own city. The sad thing is, we watched, even though the Black women in the house never survived and the Black man never quite fit in even when he tried to become the protector of the white women in the house. There was always one whose self esteem was so low she had to take off her clothes. It was so good to us, we were bombarded with another and another. They tried the same thing with adults, only it was a game and they were trying to rid themselves of other vermin-like housemates by every kind of double crossing imaginable. They took away the house and dropped people into an uncharted wilderness somewhere and we watched them all be cut throat while they ate grubs and formed strategic alliances...

I don't need an excuse to boogie. Hell, I'm grown. Finally. Used to be (when I was Really of club-going age, when PAR-tay was what I lived for), that I would go to a spot with my friends and hug the wall, standing around waiting for someone to find it in their hearts to ask me to dance. Then if they did, we would play it all cool, barely moving, not daring to sweat, knowing that if my folks could see me, they would be wondering why in the hell they paid all that money for years of dancing lessons that I was obviously not going to use. But last week in the Nassau, I don't know what hit me. Me, Shaniqua and ReRe and nem discovered that our ship was staying in port overnight. Now some folks headed skrait (not a type-o) to the casino, but we works hard for our money and we wanted to keep it. So I put on my suede halter top, low rise jeans and bad ass shoes (gotta have those), and we headed to take over Senor Frog's, right on the dock. I don't know what we were expec...

Formal dinner, Pictured (left to right) are Garret Davis, Playwright/Director, Taylor Morgan Midday Radio Host WUKS 107.7 KISS FM, Fayetteville, NC, Best Selling Author Kayla Perrin and me.

We had a free day in the Bahamas this past weekend while participating in TJ Butler's First Sisterhood Cruise. Several of us decided to find out if it was truly better there. Let's just say that the names have been changed to protect the innocent. The not-so-innocent, well, those folks are on their own. (Just Kidding). Most of us donned our few straps of cloth and went out in search of a good beach. I was accompanied by K.P. (initials, a romance and now mainstream author that has written a lot of books), RM Johnson(another best-selling author)and his lady friend, Spike Davis (Comedian Extraordinaire) and his wife, and Taylor Morgan, mid-day radio host & promotions director from WUKS 107.7 KISS FM in Fayetteville, NC. We walked for what seemed like miles in search of libations. A Bahamian gentleman kindly offered to knock open some coconuts and pour out the coconut water, which he kindly replaced with something that tasted like gin and juice. More gin than juice. The heat fi...

I had an active July although it doesn't feel like it. There were a couple of books it just took forever to get through. They seemed to eat up my time. Two that come to mind are Material Girl by Julia London and The Goddess Rules . Material Girl seemed like a worthwhile enough story, sassy rich girl that works in daddy's company meets handyman type all around handsome guy and he knocks her off her feet. Couldn't relate. Life is too short to read books that don't do it for you so I just didn't wait around to the end. I chucked it and moved on to the next one. I struggled through the Goddess Rules , on audio noja (Zulu for no less). The funny sounding British accent was montonous and it killed me, but I made it through. I had to find out who she ended up with. It took me longer to get through that than it did to Read The Kite Runner. I also read Who Does She Think She is by Benilde Litte- a pleasure to read. G Spot by Noire was not at all what I though...

With Francis Ray and other writer attendee at the Reno Convention.