It saddens me to think that a whole generation of people grew up knowing Michael Jackson as a freak (remember the Elephant Man bones and Bubbles the Chimp),a recluse and of course, a suspected pedophile. Sure they have seen clips of Thriller and they have a few of his later hits they can claim as their own, but they really didn’t know Michael. I didn’t know him personally, but I grew up with him.
I knew Michael. I’ve always known Michael. As long as I can remember, throughout my entire childhood, there was Michael. I wasn’t even in kindergarten when I started watching The Jackson Five cartoon. Songs like Rockin’ Robin, Dancin’ Machine, Shake Your Body Down to the Ground and Blame it On the Boogie could have been my playground soundtrack.
When Michael released his first solo album, Off the Wall, I was right there. I remember the album cover and those bright white socks. He (and Shaun Cassidy) were my first crushes. Rock with You, Off the Wall and Don’t Stop til You Get Enough are all old-school classics now. Yet, for me, these are the stuff that memories are made of.
I was in high school when Thriller was released. We did the Thriller dance in our high school talent show. Back then, every woman wanted to be with Michael and every boy wanted to be him. Seriously. It was cool for guys to have the red Thriller jacket and the jheri curl and it was cool to date a guy with the red Thriller jacket and the jheri curl!
He single-handedly changed the face of video and the hue of the faces on MTV in one swoop. Thriller was epic. It was a movie. It was a story. It was one of the first videos to feature a major black singer.
This was followed up by Bad (a video that featured a young Wesley Snipes). I was in college now and songs like Man in the Mirror, Smooth Criminal and Dirty Diana along with songs by Guy and New Edition provided the backdrop into my first foray into independence.
Over the next few years, songs like Remember the Time, Keep It in the Closet, and Will You Be There cemented a relationship that, at this point, had spanned two decades.
With the Bad album, the weirdness and the plastic surgury began to rear their ugly heads. I just shrugged them off because I loved Michael, and I knew there was so much more to him than a few tabloid stories. Then came Neverland and those vicious child molestation charges that dodged him for the rest of his life.
The Michael of the past 20 years was not the Michael I knew. Yet, I still had him. Through his music I would, and will, always have him. It is just a shame that the younger generation will never know him the way I did.
I start my new job in a week! Who-Hoo! So this week is pretty full, trying to tie up a lot of loose ends before I say goodbye to days filled with Maury Povich and Steve Wilkos and head back into the World of Work.
Since I’ve been unemployed, I’ve done a lot of volunteer work. For the past few months, I’ve volunteered at the organization’s satellite site. Today, they asked me to come back to the main site for an afternoon.
I knew they probably had a new crop of volunteers there that I hadn’t met and when I got there, there were several new faces, including a very cute one! We’ll call him Jake.
Jake is definitely a cutie, but he’s a little younger than me. We started talking and of course he asked the dreaded, “How old are you?” I do look young for my age, but I think he was being nice when he said I looked 28 or 29. I think I can easily pass for a 30-something, but 20-something? That’s pushing it. Turns out he’s 32. Almost a full decade younger than me! I had a serious Demi Moore moment. He could totally be my Ashton Kutcher.
However, he seems to be pretty mature for his age, I mean, as much as you can tell from a first conversation with a stranger. I mean, he's interested. He's already called and asked me out. That's more than any man in my age group has done in a while.
But still...
Still, for the first time, I’m feeling a little cougar-ish.
I live in the South now (not the Dirty South but the Relatively Clean South); however, I’m not a Southerner by birth. I’m from the Midwest. Actually, I’m from Ohio which is weird because there is a lot of debate about exactly where Ohio is. Midwesterners from Iowa or Kansas don’t claim Ohio. They say Ohio is East Coast. However, New Yorkers and Philadelphians, laugh at that thought. They consider Ohioans very much Midwesterners. I feel more Midwestern than East Coast. Plus, I call Coke and Pepsi ‘pop’ and not 'soda' and that’s a Midwest thing.
Even still, my dad hails from the South, and I spent a lot of time with his family ‘down there’ in the summers. Personally, I like it here. The people are friendly. The winters are mild. The coast of living is reasonable. Yet, when I decided to move here (from the West Coast after living on the East Coast), a lot of my friend’s from back home and both coasts questioned why I would move ‘down there.’ Their arguments consisted of all of the traditional Southern stereotypes. I didn’t take much stock in those stereotypes then or now.
HOWEVER, the other day I came across a story and a news clip that embodied completely ever stereotype I’d ever heard about the South. In this clip, a man is retelling his encounter with Bigfoot. Damn, people like this really do exist!
I don’t know if I mentioned this, but Joey had a birthday about two weeks ago. He’s 11 years old! For a toy poodle, that is about 60. I celebrated his birthday by giving him exactly what he wanted, a bottomless bowl of his favorite dog food and a lot of extra walks and play time. He looks good for his age, if I may say so myself, and he’s still pretty spry and energetic for a senior.
Yet, for the past week, I’ve had this nagging thought. I don’t know where it’s come from but I have been wondering, does Joey really like me or does he tolerate me because he knows that I am the lady that feeds him and takes him outside. Of course, he can’t tell me how he feels. Hell, I don’t know for sure that dogs even have emotions, but like most pet owners, I like to think that he does. And, if he does have emotions, I hope he thinks fondly of me. God knows I love that damn dog.
I've been fascinated by this story. The winner of the Democratic primary for a U.S. Senate seat in South Carolina is Alvin Greene, an unemployed, ex-military man who managed to pony up the $10,400 filing fee required to get his name on the ballot.
So what's the problem?
Well, until Tuesday's win no one had heard of Greene. He ran a 'campaign' without raising funds, conducting rallies, posting signs or even having a website. He claims (in the painful interview that follows this post) that he campaigned, the "old-fashioned way." Yet, he couldn't say what way that was.
Now that he's on the map, it's come to light that he has a pending felony obscenity charge. Apparently he approached a 19-year old student on the University of South Carolina campus, showed her some Internet porn and suggested that they take things back to her room. Apparently, lack of game gets you an obscenity charge in South Carolina.
While watching this painful nine-minute interview with Greene, I swear I expected him to start rattling off all of different kinds of shrimp! It was that bad. Yet, the man garnered 60% of the vote. Leaving many to wonder exactly who voted for him and why.
The consistently racist commenters on the Charlotte Observer site blamed it on us ignorant blacks! One even suggesting that black South Carolinians voted for him because his name is Alvin Greene and they must have been thinking about Al Green when they casts their votes. Of course, they neglected to acknowledge that his competition was one Vic Rawl. Well, using that logic wouldn't us blacks think of Lou Rawlsand cast a couple of votes his way?
Seventies soul crooners aside, it was a primary election and getting decent voter turn out for blacks during presidential and mayor elections is hard enough. No one, including blacks, really turns out for primaries.
The mysteries of how this guy got the nomination or how lack of game gets you an obscenity charge in South Carolina may never be answered. However, watch this interview clip and tell me you don't think of Bubba Gump.
My air conditioner isn't working. Well, let me clarify. The air conditioner itself is working, it just isn't cooling. I think it needs freon. So I've spent the better part of the last hour trying to figure it out.
First let me say, it's hot as hell. AND, I'm upstairs on the computer ... and as we all remember from science class ... heat rises. It's hot. I'm evil. Not a good combination. It's times like this when I wish I had a man. Of course, I wouldn't expect him to fix it. I'm more handy around the house and the car than any man I've ever dated, but at least he'd be able to make the calls. You see, men respect other men when they call and make a service request. When men hear a woman on the other line, the Idiot Alarm starts ringing in their head. They think greedily, "It's a woman. She must be an idiot. I am going to take all her money just because I can!"
Here's a case in point. A few months ago, I went to Maryland. I needed an oil change, so I stopped to get one. The jackass who tried to 'help' me wanted me to pay over $60 for a basic oil change! Why? Well according to him, my car required a special oil and the oil was difficult to reach in my car and all sorts of parts would have to be removed to get to it. I drive a Mazda 6. It's really not that complicated. In fact, according to him, the $60 was what the price would be after he cut me a break.
I declined his 'generous' offer and went to the Jiffy Lube down the street. Got the whole thing done for less than $30. I'm dreading making these air condition calls. Maybe I can disguise my voice. I do an okay Barry White impression.
So the name of the blog is Sweet, Dark and Crazy. Today’s entry is definitely one to file under dark. Not sexy dark, mind you, but creepy dark. You know dark, really dark. Keep in mind, I share a birthday with Stephen King. Anyway, as I was saying, …
A Target run was in order today as I was out of Unisom and almost out of Moscato (my nightly ritual). As I stood in line, I scanned all of the magazines and I couldn’t help but notice Gary Coleman on the cover of People. I watched Different Strokes and it’s always sad when someone dies, but that isn’t what got me.
What got me about the cover was this. It said, “Gary Coleman 1968-2010.” It sent a shiver down my spine. You see, I was born in 1968. We were the same age. There is just something eerie about seeing those numbers with the infamous dash between them. You can’t help but think, “That could be me!”
The headline continued, “Tragic Life & Death of a Child Star.” The man was 42 and he’s still known as a child star. I don’t know, there is just something wrong about that. The man hit his peak before he hit puberty. As for me, I hope I haven’t peaked yet. I haven’t done anything to merit a People magazine cover but what if someone, strictly for shits and giggles, did one of those fake People magazine covers about my death, what would the headline be?
Sweet, Dark and Crazy 1968-2010: Lonely Life of the Sorely Single Sweet, Dark and Crazy 1968-2010: Sad Life of a Funny Girl Sweet, Dark and Crazy 1968-2010: Unemployed, Unmarried and Ultimately Unhinged Sweet, Dark and Crazy 1968-2010: What Will Joey Do Now? Sweet, Dark and Crazy 1968-2010: Broken, Bitter and Beside Herself Sweet, Dark and Crazy 1968-2010: Who Is This Woman? Why The Hell Should We Care?
Okay, I’m over being creeped out.
Rest in peace GC. Now, I’m off to down two Unisom and chase it with a big ole glass of wine. Good night!
I spent the weekend on the couch watching TV. What I’ve learned is that you can find an episode of Law & Order (or one of the spin-offs) on just about 24 hours a day. Well, after an afternoon of L&O, I did a little bit of channel surfing and came across the last part of the last episode of What Chili Wants on VH-1.
As I’ve discussed with Tikki, I really don’t care what Chili wants. While I do watch some reality shows the ones that interest me the least are the ones based around celebrities. Really, I just don’t care. What makes them more interesting than anyone else? Not much. So, I continued surfing, and ended up watching Snapped - all about women who ‘snap’ and kill somebody (husband, boyfriend, parent, other woman). What can I say, it's one of my favorite shows.
Anyway, after almost a full day of crime and mayhem, I pull out the remote and start channel surfing again, ending up on VH-1 again, just in time for the premiere episode of their new show Dad Camp. WOW. On Dad Camp, Dr. Jeff Gardere (if you watch Maury you’ve seen him before) takes six pregnant women and their six boyfriends to a month-long camp designed to turn these pot-smoking, no job having (and no job wanting), cheating, functional alcoholics from deadbeat to doting dads. One guy even has the letters D-E-A-D-B-E-A-T tattooed on his knuckles; another tried to sneak weed into the camp and didn’t have the guts to fess up to it.
Unfortunately, this show is enough of a train wreck that I’ll probably watch it again. Here’s the promo.
I’m 41. I can still remember when some radio stations refused to play George Michael’s I Want Your Sex. It was a big controversy because ... wait for it ... , it had sex in the title! Now you hear people not just using the word sex but talking explicitly about sex on the radio. They barely even bleep out the bad words anymore. I’m not saying that artists didn’t talk about sex back in the day. The difference is that they had to be a little more clever about it.
In my youthful naivete, there were a lot of sexual songs that I would just sing and sing and sing without realizing what they were really talking about. In most cases, it took me years (and I mean decades) to figure out the real message.
Afternoon Delight (Starland Vocal Band) What I Thought It Was About: Couples going on a picnic. What It Really Was About: Grabbing a quickie in the middle of the day. Listen
Love to Love You Baby (Donna Summer) What I Thought It Was About: I really don’t know but I remember thinking that Donna Summer might have been sick given all the moaning. What It Really Was About: Apparently, all that moaning was supposed to be Donna Summer having an orgasm! Listen
Little Red Corvette (Prince) What I Thought It Was About: I found it was odd that we went from a little red corvette to singing about tiny old horses (“She had a pocket full of horses, Trojans and some of them used). What It Really Was About: Prince picking up some slutty chick who kept used condoms (Ewwww!) Listen
She-Bop (Cindy Lauper) What I Thought It Was About: Dancing. Lots of Dancing. What It Really Was About: Masturbation! Listen
Pull Up to the Bumper (Grace Jones) What I Thought It Was About: Parallel Parking. What It Really Was About: Sex. When she talked about a long black limousine, she wasn’t talking about a chauffeur-driven car. And when she said, “Grease it. Spray it. Let me lubricate it,” she wasn’t talking about an oil change! Listen
Yesterday, I did you guys a big favor by letting the women know a little bit more about how to get the best from you and a little bit about how to make you happy. Yet, relationships and romance are not a one-way streets, you have to give a little to get something back. So today’s blog is written for the boys, to give you guys a little bit of insight into what we women want.
1. We Do A Lot. Recognize It. We work. We take care of the house. We take care of the kids. We keep a lot of balls in the air (no pun intended). Just like we need to tell you more about what you do right, we need validation and acknowledgement too. Show us that we are appreciated. Say it. Take us out to a favorite restaurant. Run us a bath. Buy some flowers. Say thank you once in a while. Find a way to say or show us that you appreciate what we do.
2. Let's Get Physical ... And Then Some. We have a hard time getting aroused when we are mad, frustrated or just plain tired. You want to know what arouses us? Men who help. Studies show that men who help with housework and kids have more sex. Following #1 and #2 will go along way to helping you get more too.
3. Listen. I know you are hardwired to act. Men want to solve a problem. You guys like to fix it or find a way to make it better. A lot of times however, we just need to vent and you are making it better by just listening.
4. It’s Never Nothing. If you ask what’s wrong and she says nothing, it’s something. It’s always something. Ask what it is and what you can do to make it better. If she still says nothing, tell you that you know she’s upset and tell her you will give her some time but if she wants to talk about it, you will be there. Do not just take nothing as a reason to go watch SportsCenter.
5. Leave the Cookie Cutter for the Cookies. Every woman is different. What worked with your ex, might not work with your current partner. Take the time to find out what she likes and what she wants. Don't make assumptions. This applies to the bedroom and every other room. You will score huge points just by asking her what she wants and likes because a lot of guys just don't do it.
A lot of smug people would tell you that you shouldn’t take advice on men from me because I am single and never married. However, I’m single and never married because I have sense and standards not because I can’t get a man. Think about it this way, would you rather take advice from a person who is single by choice or someone who is unhappily married just because they are married.
Anyway, I have a gift. I understand men. It’s impossible to understand every single one, but I have a better grasp on men than a lot of women. I realize that men are not women with penises. In SatC 2, Carrie reconnects with Aiden in Abu Dabi. She meets him for dinner looking fabulous (which every woman should when she’s meeting with an ex), and at the end of the evening, they share a kiss. As soon as their lips locked, she realized that it was wrong and ran away. Feeling guilty, she called Big and told him about it. Why? Because she’s a chick and she’d want to know. The only thing is that Big isn’t a chick, he’s a guy. So here is my sage advice, that Carrie and every other girl can use when trying to figure out a person with a penis.
Wiki About Guys
1. He’s Got a Big One: Ego, that is. I’m not saying ego as synonymous with arrogance. I’m saying it in the more traditional Freudian sense, the ego as “I, myself”. Men process everything through the “I am.” He wants to think: I am good at my job. I am a good husband/partner. I am a good provider. I am attractive and desirable. So when they lose a job or cannot protect or provide they are devastated.
As a woman, you can use this to your advantage. Acknowledge when he does something well. Thank him for taking out the garbage or getting the car fixed. Seek out his advice or ask for help. Let him know that you find him attractive. If you don’t do those things, make no mistake, someone else will. A lot of affairs start because the other woman strokes his ego. She laughs at his jokes, when you stopped doing that a while ago. She listens to his work stories and seeks out his advice, while you find his work stories boring and want to let him know that you can do everything yourself. She finds him sexy, so do you but lately you haven’t let him know. Do this but not in a manipulative way. Give him honest compliments and show genuine gratitude for stuff he does regularly.
2.He is Sensuous. Sex for men is a little bit mental/emotional but it’s mainly physical. Men get aroused by what they can see, hear, touch, smell and taste. This is why when a woman gains a lot of weight or lets herself go it’s a big deal. Now, we as women say “But he should love me regardless.” He might still love you but he might not be attracted to you. I hate to break this to you, but how you look matters. I’m not saying you need to rock four inch heels and Victoria Secret lingerie but a little bit of effort goes a long way.
3.He’s Got a Long … Memory. They might expect you to forgive and forget but most men have a hard time doing either one. Remember the ego? If you pull a Carrie and kiss another man, don’t expect him to forget about it, even if he doesn’t say it. It might come up in an argument years from now because it doesn’t go away.
4. He Is Not Your Psychic Friend. A lot of my friends get mad at their boyfriends/husbands because they feel that these guys should know better. He should know a vacuum cleaner does not make a good Mother’s Day gift; but they only way you can know for sure is if you tell him. Tell him – don’t drop hints, make suggestions or wrap it in a riddle. Tell him what you want and what you don’t want.
5. He Wants the Cliff Notes Not the Whole Book. Let’s say you have a bad day at work. You call your BFF and you two discuss it for the entire 45 minute commute home. You analyze what you said, what your co-worker said and what the boss should have done. You slice it. You dice it. You put it under the microscope. It’s cool because that’s what we girls do. This is not what men do. They want the short version. The really short version. Condense it. If he wants more info, he’ll ask. But if you talk too much, eventually, he’ll tune you out. He can’t help it. It’s just what they do.
Name: SDC Home: United States About Me: I'm a youthful 44-year old, who is infectiously funny, dangerously smart, wildly creative, hopelessly math-phobic, tactfully honest, occasionally politically incorrect, and cute to boot! See my complete profile
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