My girls Maya & Frida. (at MTA - Myrtle Av-Broadway Station (J)(M))
Debbie Allen and Phylicia Rashād
(1st salute to Black Sisterhood!)
Born Phylicia Ayers-Allen on June 19, 1948 (Ageless at 65 years)
Born Deborrah Kaye Allen on January 16, 1950 (Forever young at age 64)
Erykah Badu - Tyrone.
Anonymous asked: How do you stay positive?
Chicken and Faith is always the answer.
She stood up and walked to the podium with her palms clammy and beads of sweat on her nose. Mrs. Dalloway continued to knit as she’s heard everyone’s story before. It was always the same story: some regular junkie comes in, preaches on how they got sober and how “YOU” can do it too. She noticed the woman approaching the podium when she walked in—she smelled new. Mrs. Dalloway had been in Narcotics Anonymous for the last 17 years. She was mandated to the meetings at St. Joseph’s on 3rd Avenue after a bad batch of shrooms that sent her running butt naked through the city and shitting on Ed Koch’s shoe. Mrs. Dalloway, while sober, just continues to come to the meetings as she has grown accustomed to the routine. Every Tuesday night, this was her thing. The cookies, the conversation, the inspiration, the tears – everything about this was her, regardless of how mundane it’s become to her.
“No one ever talks about how great the high is. We always talk about how we’ve hit rock bottom and how we can’t take care of our families or…we lost our jobs and can’t fucking pay rent. I’m only here because I know if I come here…no one will judge me. It’s a judge free zone right?”
The crowd looked at the short woman with the peanut butter complexion confused and uncomfortable. Mrs. Dalloway put her knitting needle down, and for the first time in 12 years listened to a “newbie.”
“The high. Woo. Shit. The high. It’s like… the best fucking feeling and I’m not going to stop. I should feel guilty…I should feel really fucking guilty. But I love it. It takes me to another place. It makes me feel like I matter. Like I’m the only one. It’s powerful. Y’know? But I gotta get this off my chest. I can’t tell my friends. I sure as hell can’t tell my mother. My father would…he would fucking die. So I saw an ad in the Voice and I said to myself, ‘Well all these motherfuckers are sinning and shit. Why not be a part of the crowd?’”
Mrs. Dalloway began to get flustered and so did everyone else in the room.
“Well if you’re going to insult us, tell us your name and what drug you’re on because it seems like it’s fucking dope,” Mr. Gonzalez said in his thick Dominican accent.
“My name is Alex,” she began. Alex looked around the room, squinted and smirked.
“My name is Alex, and I’m addicted to being the ‘other woman.’
Anonymous asked: If you found out that your fuck buddy was friends with your ex would you block him on social media and your cell phone or would you confront him (fuck buddy)?
If they’re just friends, I wouldn’t be bothered no kind of way.
Anonymous asked: Will you ever gave a meetup in San Jose and have you ever had a meetip?
Jay, Jade, and XD wanted to do something great this episode. We’re covering ALL 90s EVERYTHING! From movies, to music, and scandals we have a great time reminiscing on the love we had in one of the greatest decades ever. Use the hashtag #2guys90s on any social media property to share what you miss about the 90s. Tweet us at @2Guys1GirlShow and email us at email@example.com
The Simpsons did The Hangover back in 1999.
One of my mentors at Yale, the great anthropologist and art historian Robert Ferris Thompson, has documented that three of the most important words, and thus, concepts, brought to these (and other) shores via Africans are Cool, Funky, and Hip. My argument follows: you can no more separate Black from Cool than you can separate French cooking from France, or yoga from India. Cool has African roots, period. We, Black people, bring the aesthetic of Cool to the table of global culture, and should be recognized intellectually and economically for doing so.
Rebecca Walker, author of Black Cool (via howtobeterrell)