WTF is going on with my Facebook Friend Requests?

I was talking to Naeemah today.  Not myself, there’s another one out there, and yes, we do know each other.  Our names weren’t the only thing we had in common.  We were talking about singleness and dating.

I’ve been getting like a shit ton of friend requests to my personal Facebook page, like 2-4 requests a day for the last 3 or 4 months.  One day I counted 17 requests.  I accept based on the age: not too young, I’m not a cougar or a mom of any kind and not too old but I appreciate a distinguished gentleman and whether or not I think they’re cute. Most of the requests are from guys that live in my home country St. Kitts. Since I haven’t lived there for 15 years and move in and out like I owe money when I do visit, I didn’t think they were intentionally for me.  The other Naeemah lives at home and is very pretty with the most captivating smile, another thing we have in common.  I thought the friend requests were for her.  So I had to ask her what happened.  I thought maybe she told the world that she was single and looking and sent all the men crazy trying to slide into her DM’s.  Men aren’t the most detailed creatures I know so a Naeemah H mistake would be so easy to make.  And voila I have 200 more FB friends for no particularly good reason.  But why?

Cause dating and relationships are in a suck phase right now.  Let’s be real, it’s been in a suck phase for a while.  After she told me that the dating scene was challenging back home I had to share that it was no different here in the US, at least not in my neck of the woods, Hotlanta, GA.  I see entirely too many pretty, intelligent, self-actualized females at home and abroad up and down my timeline barely restraining their combustible frustrations with dating.  We want to be ok with our singleness, we are ok with our singleness, we’re awesome but goddamit why are we still single?  Why do guys in and out of relationships add you on social media to stalk you, like 17 of your profile pictures in a half hour, and never say anything?  What the entire fuck is going on? What happened to us?

I’m equally frustrated and amused at this current state of affairs and seek to study it, to understand and to seek solidarity from my fellow sisters about it.  I needed an outlet.  That’s why I write.

Me Pluss My Parents

Imagine a 17 year old guy out shopping with his family his head is down, all consumed in texting, head phones dangling. When you jump back in the car he changes the station from NPR to 99.7FM and turns the music up from the respectable conversational level you left it at to two bars below full tilt. He's only had his driver's licence for a year but he very knowingly will tell you which turns to take, when to take them, and that you are driving too slow, you have to learn how to read the road.  This is my Dad, only he's not 17.  He's Dad age.

When I take my mom out, she audibly complains that this play that you paid money to see is stupid and  that there are entirely too many white people here. In the middle of a play in a dark theater where it's necessary for you and your company to keep the utmost theater decorum, she scrolls through brightly lit Facebook and says loudly enough to be heard "Oh my God, there's more?  I just wish I could play candy crush right now."  These are my parents and I've been paying attention to them as individuals and not parents for probably the last month or so.

My mom is quite spoiled.  She loves nice clothes, loves all food and quite expects to get everything she wants.  She is unabashed.  She will show you a picture or point to one of your pairs of shoes and say "I want a pair" or she'll just wear it if it fits. No questions asked.  She goes into my room when I'm not home cause she's bored and she wants to smell all my perfumes to see which one she likes.  She gets  excited and dressed up to go to Lenox Mall with her sister every weekend. She will take ownership of something I've painted, at home or elsewhere, and claim it as her own.  Then she'll get my dad to mount it.  I'll come home to find it on the wall where she wants it. She decorates my our home with pillows.  We have so. many. pillows.  Its her design aesthetic. Also, nothing matches.

My dad often falls asleep on the couch watching YouTube and TV at the same time, and you better not change the channel, it'll wake him.  My mom has to wake him and take him up to bed.  Last night, he took the remote with him. He comes downstairs on the daily, blasting the radio from his phone speakers, despite the earphones.  He loves music, like LOVES it. He takes it everywhere, even into the shower with him.  There is always this look when you ask him to turn it down or put his headphones in, cause he's sitting right next to you and the TV is on and you should want to listen to his music too.  And how dare you.

And its all very fascinating to me, this getting to know my parents as people.  As I write this I'm chuckling because I love shoes and clothes just like my mom does.  She's the one who taught me how to hide shoe purchases, which by the way is how she can spot a new shoe of mine. Every. Single. Time.  And my dad is why I love music so very much, an probably why I have a boom box in my shower, and why I can never understand how my friends don't like Fall Out Boy or Sia like I do.  How could you not? And how dare you?

I think I'm experiencing real life Benjamin button disease.  I could never imagine my parents as children, because they're my parents and I think they were born as parents.  It feels good to have them fuss over adult me like they do, like they just couldn't wait for me to ask for help.  Like the time my mom googled ways to get a stuck ring off and tried with floss and Vaseline for a half hour before we tagged in my dad who ended up just cutting it off while my ma held my hand.  Or how she really does think that my 3.5 month nephew is talking to her and telling her the sins of his parents.  My parents love my brother and I like it's their soul purpose on this earth.  Family over everything.  So its out of my norm lately to see them as EL and Huggins rather than Mom and Dad.  It just never occurred to me before now. With the heavy parenting part of their lives behind them now, they're free to be themselves, so I feel like I'm meeting the teenage versions of my parents but with none of the tech savvy.

It's Mother's day 2018 so I have parents on the brain.  My dad digs Rihanna and Kendrick Lamar and the Kardashians and my mom is the flyest dresser I know so they just might be so much cooler than I am, and I so badly want to be friends.

We Tried It: Two Urban Licks and the Sound Table

Two Urban Licks romantically lighting my wine in a beer glass.  Weird.

Atlanta is sexy. Last night we tried Two Urban Licks and it was sexy too.

I needed to get out and shake off a hellish work week.  The necessity of needing to check out some local restaurants before some big dates and events planning drove me out into these seductive Sunday night Atlanta streets. The other side of 'Netflix and chill'.

 I scrounged up an old reliable pleasantly particular palate in the form of a guy friend and we advanced on Atlanta.  There was a rough list, Illegal Food in N. Highlands, Two Urban Licks off Ralph McGill and King+Duke in Buckhead. Since forever, Two Urban Licks has been some place I've wanted to experience but the atmosphere has always suggested a flirtatious naughty date vibe.  Since ain't nothing happening on my side of the fence I had to find my way there by other means.  Last night was a good a night as any for it.

First off, it was hard to find.  I must have gone around the block a couple times, which coincidentally caused me to run in to Venkman's. Its apparently an Old Fourth Ward favorite with music and killer cuisine.  During my unfortunate but necessary u-turn I also happened upon Bantam Pub which prides itself on being a 'foodie bar'. I saw a cozy late night bar with an attractively lit enclosed patio right on the corner of McGill and Ensley.  I'm intrigued to say the least, they are now on my 'to be checked out' list.

So I finally find Two Urban Licks, its behind some lofts on the Eastside Beltline Trail, my first thought was that they were 'hiding it from the black people' but when I walked in and saw the mixed crowd, I thought that maybe I was just really bad with directions.  There's a cool split bar setup and for a Sunday night it was pretty packed.  Atlanta apparently has no hang ups at all with this valet only spot.  The place was like a hot chick who is drop dead gorgeous, talented and intelligent, she knows it and she's not trying to hide it.  You come to her she doesn't need to advertise for you.  If you build it and place it, somehow, magically, they will come.

My wine came in a beer glass.  That's the only negative thing I have to say about Two because when the food came out I didn't care anymore.

This 'Nothing But Thyme' will put hair on your chest.  A lovely thyme and orange infused spin on a Old Fashioned, the block of ice left a little more clarity and class to be desired but lets be honest here... its a block of ice.

Salmon Chips: Smoked Salmon and Chipotle Cream Cheese on a Potato Chip.  Delicious.  I hate to mar your perceptions and tell you that the salmon was a little salty but believe me when I tell you that you won't care one bit.  For the hour we sat there, this appetizer came out to the bar at least 5 more times, so its popular and I concur.

My meat bid for the week.  I don't eat pork much because I can't make my pork belly to taste like this. Absolutely divine. But those collard greens though... the chef' put his classy southern big toe in these collards. A classy, manicured, polished big toe.

We intended on the next stop being King+Duke but by the time we left Licks, the kitchen at King was probably closing so we decided on The Lawrence on Juniper.  The Lawrence had other plans.  Apparently they had had an unusual crowd on a Sunday night who ate everything they were saving to feed my date and I so on suggestion from the cute mixologist who knew the kitchen manager at the Sound Table and vouched for the food, we headed there.

I'd been here a few years ago but I didn't know that Sound Table is known for their food.  I'd never had to eat there, I thought the place was for drinks and dancing.  I'd forgotten about the frantic dancing (mostly jumping and hair swinging) to loud house music on the super tiny dance floor that spills out into the bar area.  The bar was busy, at 10:30/10:45pm on a Sunday, everyone was trying to get their last food orders in before the kitchen closed at 11.

We had Octopus and Kimchi and  Cauliflower and Brussels, for libations we tried the Horse's Neck which is basically bourbon and the Boulevard Zombie of rum and curacao.  The octopus and kimchi was on point, good and spicy and flavored the octopus well (if you like octopus which has been popping up all over Atlanta menus, Iberian Pig does it like no other I have tasted thus far). The servings are kinda small but for bar food at a nice place, you are paying for the chef to know what he is doing.  The taste and presentation made me think that maybe even the Belgian Frites (french fries) are good here. I thought the cauliflower and sprouts were a weird choice for bar food until I remembered that we had come to a restaurant and sat at the bar instead of come to a bar.  There's a difference.  My date found the sauce they had been drenched in a little too sweet, but the vegetables had been cooked well and since we could some kind of vision we accepted that just maybe shouldn't have that next time instead of calling the chef a dirty name. The cocktails were perfectly fine, the blend of tastes matched the quirky names as I expected and bourbon is still bourbon.  Its kinda hard to screw that up.

Atlanta will no longer accept mediocrity, all my favorite hangouts have upped their game or remain consistent, including food worthy of leaving the house for on their dainty ever changing paper menus. If I go to a bar, I need anyone I ask to be able to tell me about the menu, tell me what the regulars like, tell me what you like, mix me a good drink, understand my wine choices and be ready to make suggestions, and for the love of fries, serve me some good and interesting food!

I declared the night a success minus the partial deafness from the electronica.  We drank well, we ate well and we have two restaurants to add to our bank of experiences.  This just might be a thing that continues.  So when you feel your pocket buzz with a text from me that says "what you doing tomorrow night?" Know where my head is at and that the only correct response is "Nothing. Nothing at all. What restaurants did you have in mind?"

50 Black Atlantan Restaurants Series: the BQE

 

So my friend and I have separately stumbled across this blog post written by Genese Jamilah: 50 Black Owned Restaurant and Bars in Atlanta.  Intriguing to say the least, the content immediatley captured the attention of two boozy bar hoppers like us.  "We should do it. lets do it. We've already been to a good bit of these already." And so we have.  But what if we chose to experience all 50 again, whether we'd been there before or not and drag some different personalities along for shits, giggles and a different take? What happens is the group 'I don't do clubs but lets do dinner once a month'. And so it begins, the experiencing of these places for the pure enjoyment of experiencing them and talking about them and sharing with you, helping you make up your mind about a new place that might be worth checking out this weekend, or not.

 

So we made reservations on Open Table for December 11th, alerted the squad and commenced to descending on the BQE Restaurant and Lounge to see what we could see. Located under the 75/85N overpass off the Jesse Hill Drive Exit, it took some time to find this night spot.  Well let me rephrase that, we found the restaurant smack on the right as soon as we turned left off the exit but getting to the $5 valet was a bit of an expedition.  It took a frustrating 7 extra minutes and 2 loops in medium traffic to navigate the map of one way streets to find the one with the valet but I tell you what, leaving is a cinch; it's a straight shot back onto 75/85 South.

 

 

It was a groovy mood that night, a Friday night sweet spot.  Ambience high, guys present but completely enamored with their phones as usual. The mood music was 80's, 90's and nostalgic, perfect time for a drink.  I thought I was grown so I had what the grown folks were having: dirty martinis.  Apparently I'm not that grown yet so after I struggled to finish the olive juice and vodka, I only had palate left for an apple martini. Black russians, more martinis and a couple glasses of moscato to the rest of the table.

 

 

We ordered and ate while waiting for the entertainment. Thoughts? Get the chicken. Always get the chicken. "Seafood is to be eaten at seafood places", is a good rule to live by and this was NOT a seafood place.  What you don't want to do is waste your money on the shrimp and grits. Don't do it. They do it badly. Do Not Do It.  You can never go wrong with the red velvet waffle, trust us.

 



Terrible Shrimp and Grits, in presentation and taste... blek!
In the distance yonder is the small plate cocktail shrimp. 
Its basic shrimp cocktail. No taste notes needed.

Yummy in your tummy Red Velvet Waffles: The signature dish. 
And yes, her wings fell onto the table: 5 second rule applied

Blackened Salmon with Mac-and-cheese, and spinach that got send back
Oh yeah, there is a random piece of fried chicken skin, like I said the chicken was delish :)

My substitute small plate meal of crab cake sliders and warm house chips

The Black russian and replacement sweet tater tots for the
returned spinach: delish! totally worth it

My first attempt at alcoholic adulthood :(

 

 There is a growing trend of restaurants giving a two hour seating time limit to maximize on reservation space and the customers' dollar, and I was curious to see how they would execute these restrictions or if they even would.  We made reservations for 7:30pm, all 7 of us got there by 8 and enjoyed Khemistry Live who went on at 9:17pm.  He perfomed his cute, narrow toosh off till 10pm, at which point we were inconspicuously brought our bills and pleasantly asked to vacate the table.  You ain't got to go home but you sure as hell got to get up from there. Another group sits down and another show goes on at 10:30pm.  If we may have been a younger crowd we maybe could have booked for 10:30pm but its simple, we're just not.

 

Let's talk about Khemstry though, that man Rico Suave-d the house. 

He did the customary birthday shout outs and grown and sexy shout outs and big girl shout outs (which I didn't feel was necessary) and proceeded to charm the ladies with the the footwork and the body work and the eyes and the charm. Yes indeed.

 

How did BQE stack up?

 Let's Yelp it on a scale of 1 to 10, 3 girls from our group weigh in: Drea, Mina and Moi in that order

Ambiance: 6, 7, 9

Drinks: 9, 7, 9

Service: For a busy friday night, that waitress moved smooth as butter for me but Mina thought she coulda been quicker, she's the middle Yelper and gave her a 5, 10, 5, 9

Location: That jaunt to find valet took them down a couple pegs, 6, 7, 7

Parking: It was on a one way street and appraently we still

salty 'bout that loop-de-loop, 2, 6, 7

Food: 8, 8, 5, that 5 was from me.  Like I said, the shrimp and grits were bad, initially the score was a 2 for effort but it was saved by me picking off everybody else's plate

Prices: Reasonable for a night spot, 8, 6, 8

Entertainment: Khemsitry did his thing though 8, 7, 9

Cleanliness: They had one bathroom, I repeat: one public bathroom for the whole joint, 

but that thing was spotless. 8, 8, 9

Seating/Reservations: Easy to reserve, but do it early, prime seats, good pick 8, 9, 9

 

Overall Night Spot Ratings: 8, 8, 7 = 7 and 2/3 out of 10.  Not bad for the first one.

 

Wanna see the prices? I got some receipts.

 

 

Oh yeah and one of us may or may not have kissed Khemistry on the lips thanking him for his lovely singing, dancing and banter. Might you wanna check out BQE on a Friday night?

 

Tell us what you think!

 

 

 

Me Pluss Intimate Apparel

No, not my intimate apparel, but Lynn Nottage's. The acclaimed playwright's Esther explores love in New York the early 1900's, and finds it in the unlikeliest of places.

Spinster Esther sews lingerie for the masses and she is tired of making intimate apparel for all the girls who pass in and out of her boarding house, leaving her behind and moving on to marriages and families.  All she has in this world are her clients and friends, her sewing machine and two dreams: to find her a husband and to open her own beauty parlor for black women

When she receives an amorous letter from George in Panama working on the canals and seeking her attentions, she fantasizes about how her dreams might be able to come true.  Being insecure and  illiterate, she relies on her wealthy client Ms. Van Buren and a prostitute Mayme, to read and write her letters to and from George.

 

George finally comes to New York and weds Esther, only she is no longer sure where her heart lies.  Is it with her new husband George who she can't seem to connect with or is it with the Jewish mercer Mr. Marks who always saves the best most exotic fabrics for 'beautiful Esther' even though she can't afford them?

Esther navigates love, inter-racial relationships and unbearable heartbreak in a pre-civil rights world and emerges a more confident and experienced woman.  This drama is impeccably performed. Newcomer Jessie Hughes , who plays Esther, is strong and solemn and emotes every feeling down through the threads of her impeccably tailored wardrobe.  Its like feeling your own angst filled love story unfurl on stage. This isn't one to be missed.  The intimate seating on the stage gives a window into the lives of these few who are struggling through their lives just doing the best they can with their lot and the opportunities they've been afforded.

 

Intimate Apparel shows that the heart wants what the heart wants no matter the century. A solid and realistic play to see this Valentine's weekend, it'll give you something to think about.  This play is being put on by the Georgia Perimeter College Theatre Arts Guild and runs through the 16th. Intimate Apparel is free with GPCID and $5 with any other student ID, $15 to the general public.  

Tonight Friday February 14th @ 8:00pm

Tomorrow Saturday 15th @ 8:00pm

Sunday 16th @3:00pm

This lovely and moving play is set on the Cole Auditorium stage in intimate "black box" style.

Fine Arts Building,555 N. Indian Creek Dr, Clarkston, GA, 30021

 Seating is limited, so email or call to reserve your tickets ASAP.  No late seating. gpctagtx@gpc.edu

About Last Night is sold out everywhere this weekend, you can see it next week, this play will be gone by Sunday.  Do something original this weekend and support the arts.  I promise you will not be disappointed.

Me Pluss the Neon Pants

"How many neon pants is it ok to have?"

"NONE!" says Birdie as she stares at me sternly.  She ain't even playing this time.
"Zero pairs," with her hands on her hips. "How many do you have?" she asks, her stance indignant.

"3" I say like a scolded child, eyes downcast.

"Why do you have neon in your wardrobe? A whole pair of pants? Oh lawd, help the child..."she mumbles as she goes back to her corner, shaking her head and sighing.  For the next ten minutes or so, Birdie is in the corner mumbling to herself and shaking her head intermittently.  Without warning she turns to me and asks, "Why?", with this incredulous look on her face.

Why indeed.  Because I like neon, it gives me life.  Do you know why girls like pink? Its because its girly.  Do you know why I like pink? Hot pink, fuschia, neon pink, not just pink, its because its caustic.  Its not a natural color, its bold, its fierce, its in your face.  You can't look at it straight on, but when you try to look away but you can't.

I have three pairs because once you get over that hump and buy and wear the pink, then you want the orange and then there is the grandmother of all neon.  The original neon, the lime green.

Neon just works. Romanticize it, or play it casually, it takes simple to a whole other level. 

I went to see a play one Sunday afternoon, and one of the very fashionable older dames saw my pink neon pants and exclaimed "Oh my Gosh! Look at your pants! I love them! Their so festive! Do they glow in the dark?" 

See, why couldn't Birdie get this excited about neon? Because fashion is subjective and my long time love for neon and leopard is Birdie's equally aggravating eyesore.  

Do my pants glow in the dark? I'm not sure lady but I hope they do.  I really hope they do.

Pants/Riding Boots/Headband: Forever 21+
Tops: Oldnavy (Soldout)
Leopard Booties/Fashion Jewelry: Its Fashion Metro
Blazer: Target
Everything was on Clearance!

Me Pluss Mondays

That smile isn't really a smile, its an attempt to not look like an ungrateful sour puss.  I'm not about it today...'cause its Monday, and Mondays Suck.

Its Monday and a school day, that means I had to get up early and go out in this cold, and stare into my grumpy math professor's face for an hour... before he's had his coffee ...and listen to him tell me how much of an idiot I am for using a calculator to do math.  You can reread that all you want to, that's exactly what I meant to say.

I originally saw this sweatshirt on one of my favorite bloggers Musings of a Curvy Girl and I had to have it...not to wear it with frou frou heels and pop-of-color skirt like she did, but to dumb it down and rock it as nature intended, sleepy, hungover and just rolled out of bed. I needed my professor to know just by looking at me that I hoped his day was gonna be as shitty as mine.

My saving grace today? My pink and green paint splattered backpack with silver shoulder straps, a little bit of odd emo girliness in my dark winterized world.  When's the last time you saw a woman of a certain age rocking a back pack?  Not a gym bag with a pull-close top, but a true to form too many pockets, text book holding back pack? Yup... I thought so...not lately.

 

The first five days after the weekend are always the worst but Mondays hold the least promise, even after coffee. Mondays suck. They just do. Any questions?

Sweatshirt: Deb Shops, Jeans: Old Navy, Back Pack: Forever 21 Sold out, Long Line Cami: F21+

Boots/Hat/Glasses: they are mine, they're old and if you really care that much about where they came from, email me.