December 23rd I walked into a seedy neighborhood bar called Knuckleheads adjacent to a local strip joint. I was not looking for a man, but rather a break from reality to drown my sorrows with local Xmas revellers. Earlier that evening, I had tried my two-step at a Montrose nightclub where I frequently hang out with a couple of friends. The bouncer looked me up and down and asked me which party I was with. I told bonehead I was with the owner of the spot, Amir, and waited for the raincheck. I have never seen the real Amir, but the stand-in that greeted me was a guy that I had a run in with a few months ago. Assured that it would be a party of lames, I made my way to the bar I had been drowning my selfish indulgences in beer over the several of the 12 days of Christmas. Last call for alcohol and an order of 35 cent wings infront of me, a dark skinned brother by the name of Mike walked up next to me and pulled up a bar stool. He told he was from in town. He told me that he was a real nigga and at the same time he said he thought I was pretty. I asked him to clarify that and he said it again. I had on a cashmere coat in the color of camel over my hot pink dress. His black leather jacket was zipped up over his powder blue football jersey. His jeans and tennis shoes had already exuded that this would be casual encounter. "Give me your number," he said from the side of his mouth. He did not pull out a pen. He just insisted on asking for my number. He asked me want I wanted to drink and I asked Simon the bartender for a Bud Light. Simon never served my drink that night. To quell the flames of attraction with Mike, I said lets play darts. I led him over to the left side of the bar. A game was already in progess and no darts were free. I patted him on the shoulders to soak in the stranger and told him I was leaving. Strapped up in a seatbelt of my car, Mike came back around for another request. He rapped on my window. I reluctantly rolled it down. He was driving a white Honda Accord and had Three Six Mafia's "Sipping on Some Sizzurp" playing on the factory system. He gave me his receipt to Knuckleheads and asked me for my number. I gave him something to send him on his way, an email address. When I pulled into the driveway of the house, a strike of lightning came from the sky and knocked out a regulation trash pail on the on the other street.


Since my friends have all left the pond for sunnier destinations, I just copped my own hands on a helping of MAC cosmetics. I have never been quite confident on how to draw the line straight under the lash, line my brows, or apply the correct shade of rouge. So in the past, I have begged my friends for tips and makeovers out of their makeup cases. Normally a Mary Kay inductee, I decided to make a purchase at the store in the Galleria a few days ago. Why is it so hard to pin down a MAC Rep for a spin in the chair? Maybe that is why I have always skipped that shop for Victoria's Secret. Every girl must have been featured in a Mary Kay fashion show at least one time in her career and walked down a makeshift catwalk. The last time I called a family friend Mary Kay rep, she told me that she knew Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee. In turn, I proceeded to lay it on thick with my ongoing letter writing campaign. Mary Kay is a staple however MAC has been the lingua franca for known and the bevy of unknown fashionistas. Leaving with Studio Fix powder and a lipstick in Pink Noveau Satin in a plastic sack, if I master those steps, I will come back for more.

That's What Friends Are For

Everyone loves Dionne Warwick! Her friends even decided to throw her two gala affairs during the Washington D.C. festivities for the 2009 Presidential Inauguration. Somehow, I ended up on this esteemed invite list and landed an email for the event. Still wondering who was thoughtful enough to send me the invite, I will just chalk this one up to East Orange, New Jersey.