Friday Fuckery: Shh…Just Watch TV

I cannot express how much reality television means to me. It gets me through the good and the bad, and I have been relying on it as much as I rely on eyeliner, because I look approximately 12 years old without it. Reality television is one of the worlds guiltiest pleasures (that’s right the world, everyone is going down with me); I particularly care for the trash type of reality television.

Any show that involves women arguing in every episode tickles my fancy.

This type of television is a solace to me for many reasons; one being that it makes me feel good about myself. Seeing women act a fool and to not be one of them makes me feel as good as Nene Leakes thinks she looks.

I also love reality television because it serves as a release from dealing with some seriously heavy shit.

There are heavy times right now and instead of going crazy from the mayhem that is the blatant racism going on in our own backyards; reality TV is keeping me sane. It’s nothing wrong with having a release as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone. Reality TV happens to be mine. In times like this especially, we all need a reason to laugh to keep from fucking shit up. If we are constantly focused on the bad we will be in despair causing tempers to flair and aiding in the destruction that we are all sick of. 

Sometimes we need mindless, sometimes we need stupidity, sometimes we need some emptiness just to remind us that while we laugh, it’s not all bad. 

Take this prescription for a Stevie J. nose pat and call me in the morning. nose pat

Why Your Auntie Is So Pissed

What is it that happens with women when they hit a certain age that immediately makes them dislike younger women?

I recall on one of my terrible ass retail jobs always having a token woman who couldn’t stand me. It always was an older woman who felt like it was her place to make an example out of me for breathing or whatever she was mad at me for.

This display of pure disdain from older women did not stop at jobs, it carried over into day to day life as well. I still get looks of disgust from older women and I’m not even a spring chicken anymore. I walk down the street and still get looked up and down with this perturbed face from Auntie or even get the little nice-nasty shade of some old biddy calling me  sweety and hun’, but in that weird tone where its not affectionate at all. Bitch, I can hear the hate in your voice.displeased-bailey

My question is why are Aunties, as I affectionately call them, so mad? Continue reading

Part of The Problem

I’m not one of those deep thinkers. I’m not going to be the one to preach that we were once kings and queens because I can’t be honest that I really know these things to be true.

But I do know who I am and how to be true to myself. I will not call myself a part of the problem because I listen to music that demeans women. I will not call myself a part of the problem because I use the N-word. I will not say that I am a part of the problem because I watch Love & Hip Hop.
Continue reading