The Beautiful Struggle

heavy mood today. just trying to maintain, refocus, keep steppin' while listening to some

theme music..

the revolution's here

no one can lead you off your path

you try to change the world

please excuse me while I laugh

no one can change your ways

no one can lead you off your path

you'll try to change the world

please excuse me while I laugh

lookin' for the remedy

but you can't see what's hurtin' you

the revolution's here

the revolution is personal...

fightin' the good fight

the beautiful struggle

the struggle is beautiful

-talib kweli

Take A Moment

Supa on Flics: The Constant Gardener

Plot Outline: A widower is determined to get to the bottom of a potentially explosive secret involving his wife's murder, big business, and corporate corruption.

“This is how the world fucks Africa, Mr. Black” - Lorbeer

I’d heard all the hype about The Constant Gardener, and was overjoyed when Netflix finally pushed it out my queue. I watched it twice: One regular viewing, the next with subtitles on, and then did the customary browse through the dvd special features and commentary. My overall opinion: It’s a good movie. Not great, not groundbreaking; but good. Solid. It’s the type of flic where the subject matter moves me more than the actual execution of the script. Hotel Rwanda was better to me – and along with Gardener and The Interpreter, these are supposed to be the tribeca of movies in 2005 that highlighted African themes/storylines. Have yet to see Interpreter.

Constant Gardener is told in flashbacks, which is a method I always love, except this time some of the important angles and conspiracies were a little difficult to catch on to, initially. Along with the accents, and the “mumbling” (as Miss Ahmad mentioned), I missed some important connections on the first viewing. Essentially, Constant is a political thriller, and a love story. Both tragic.

Ralph Fiennes plays the widowed diplomat on the British High Commission (acting in his understated phenomenal way, which I’ve come to admire, 'cause I hated The English Patient), who stumbles upon a whole lot of corruption while investigating his wife’s death. The wife, Tessa, is played by Rachel Weiz, and she really annoyed the shit out of me in this role, and I had trouble drumming up a lot of sympathy for her character until the very end.

Some of the character arcs/development seemed a little choppy to me, but seeing as how this is an adaptation from book to screen, I could forgive easily enough. The cinematography was heart-stopping, and heart-breaking – filmed in Kenya, and directed by Fernando Meirelles, who can do no wrong since City of God.

The most sincere way and memorable way this movie affected me was a scene toward the end of the film, which takes place in the Sudan. I won’t do any spoilers, but I literally got sick to my stomach and shed some tears. Having a highly empathetic nature, deeply emotional or violent images really do me in. Along with that, feelings of shame and hopelessness came over me while viewing this particular scene, and those are always hard to shake.

I felt shame, because as a black woman in America in the 21st century, yeah I’ve got some struggles and life ‘aint always a crystal stair, but there are people across the ocean who look like me, plenty of whom are born into a life that is rife with political corruption, lack, disease, poverty, hunger, and violence, and unlike me, haven’t the opportunity, access, or resources to make it up outta that piece. I feel so fucking ashamed for complaining, and taking for granted, all my petty little problems and random bullshit I rant about on any given day. I almost start to think that maybe my ancestors being forced here via the middle passage and the atrocities of slavery and the cultural annihilation and discrimination and the subsequent struggles et al may have actually benefitted my black ass more than I'd like to admit, because at least I (we) landed in a country where we could eventually invest in the "american way" and have some semblance of a decent life. Like Chris Rock said: "Being born black in america is like having that rich uncle who paid your way through college..but molested you." But I digress...

I feel/felt hopelessness because I wondered why it seems that no matter how or why, black folks have caught a disproportionate amount of global hell no matter what part of the map we’ve been dragged to or left at. I always try to caution myself against the victimized mentality, (even though truth is truth) and tell myself it ‘aint all bad for us everywhere, progress is being made, awareness is being raised - but that still doesn’t mean folks aren’t suffering and dying. Then I get to thinking about the Rwandan massacre, the crisis in Darfur, conflicts going on in different regions, the so-thought of expendable lives....THIS IS HOW THE WORLD FUCKS AFRICA. I try to combat the hoplessness with positive thought, which will hopefully lead to positive action in answering the question WHAT CAN I DO. I agree that this is a move all black people should see. I dare you not to think about it long after it’s over.

Note: I think this movie weighed even heavier on me because I'm reading "Beasts of No Nation" by Uzodinma Iweala about a young West African boy who is forced into a life of killing by guerrilla fighters in the midst of civil war. Double whammy.

Comments, feedback always welcome.

Can't Call It...

(photo courtesy of Nah Right, courtesy of extra-medium.net)

Supa is always advocating the growth and evolution of this glorious art we call hip-hop, and she must admit it's damn good to see grown ass black men lyrically battle, then squash their personal beefs. Yet she's still a little uneasy about this Nas/Jigga merge. Playahata reports that under the Def Jam deal, Nas will pull down 10 mil for two albums. Just another example of C.R.E.A.M.? Can't call it.

Though my Jigga hate has subsided in recent years, it now falls somewhere between indifference and hesitant admiration - in regard to his business acumen. El Presidente really is doing his thing. But no matter what, my lyrical heart belongs to Nas. And ETHER won over the Takeover, hands down.

But Supa wonders, what were the conversations and subject matter that HAD to have taken place, in order for these two to squash all that nastiness between them? 'Cause that beef right there got kinda foul...

Comments, thoughts?

And save all the rah-rah about Jay-Z, (as an artist), because I'll never convert...

Weekend Wrap-Up!

Happy Monday, Blogger peeps! Hope your weekend was groovy…

So despite contracting the evil flu and being bedridden the entire week, Supa started feeling dupa sometime around last Friday afternoon. Halle-fucking-lujah!

Never mind I had a temp of 103…Real killer was, all week I was limited to my crackhead couture (old sweats and a tee), and that right there warranted a depression all its own. Nothing, I mean nada, puts a damper in this chick's steez more than being sick. 'Cause there's no energy to get up and put on cute outfits. See? Tragedy.

Wonder if I took ill because my house has been looking like this:

Yeah. Renovations, and there's shit everywhere. But yo, I won't complain (too much); at the end of it all I'll have a new pimped out fireplace, recessed lighting in the living room, shiny new hardwood floors upstairs and in the loft. It's just that I've come to accept that when a contractor informs you the job will take five days, that really means, like twenty-six. Just..need...to keep that in mind. Yeah.

Got out and about on Saturday. I had to shop. Had to. There's no way I could return to work after a five day lapse without flossing some new gear. Just..not possible. Single Mom, stop looking at me like that. I didn't spend the electric bill money. Supa simply engaged in some basic fashionista grooming – a much-needed brow wax, and MAC eyelash falsies ‘cause she wanted to feel a lil’ glam on account of her impending re-entry into the work force. Okay, and she made some miscellaneous entry-level feel good purchases. They were basically things she almost absolutely needed. (cute hobo bag, jewelry, outfits for the RR’s) Almost.


Enough about shopping. On to my next favorite thing. Have ya'll seen the commercials for this?It's a new product line for women, called Elexa: "A premium line of sexual well-being products created from a women's perspective and designed to help you realize a more fulfilling sex life." Well all right! So of course, Supa jumped online to see what they were peddling...and as it turns out, all kinds of good shit! Condoms, intimacy gel, freshening cloths, and some kind of vibrating ring thingie.

Now..Supa read the description for the ring, and still couldn't really figure out how the damn thing works. Apparently said ring has some kind of light on it, too. Anyone? Anyone? Could you feedback with a sista with instructions, experiences, comments? Much appreciated. Oh, and ladies, there's also some pretty decent orgasm info on the website, and you can also join Club Elexa, and get a dollar off on your next purchase. Hoes! Not for real, not for real! I already signed up.

Which regrettably reminds Supa, that Supa 'aint had none in awhile. She and her DITJ's schedule's have been conflicting lately. Yeah. Tragedy. All of which is inspiring my next article, Sex and the Divorcee'.....

So...The Ruff Ryder’s are doing just fine. We all had a cool low key kinda weekend, equal parts work (chores/general housekeeping) and play (goofing around the house, shopping). Lately Supa has been stealing sideways glances at The Boy (as he’s hunched over his laptop of course), wondering when he became such a tall, sinewy, good-looking fellow. Gotta watch him, ya know. At sixteen, he’s at “that age.” Good kid though, delightful boy actually; certified genius, madd perceptive, critical thinker, appropriately sarcastic, minor-league smartass. Makes Supa proud, though Lord knows he’s had his moments. He’s what they call a late bloomer, computer geek, ‘aint checkin for the girls too hard just yet. Oh, but they’re checking for his behind, trust and believe. Little sluts. Don’t worry, Supa and The Fam are on top of it…

The Girl’s latest adventure consists of horrifying me with her bodily functions, precisely burping and farting. Gets a great kick out of sitting next to me, then releasing the most toxic, rancid, venomous farts known to humankind, and then bolts away, laughing her ass off. Who knew a self-professed mini-diva could be so rank. Note to self: Get The Girl some colon cleanser.

Tidbits: Saw Fiona Apple's new video "Not About Love"- very cool. Different. I like that chic.

Also caught Damian's new video for On the Road To Zion, featuring Nas.

Two definite cuties right there. Supa would get with that Marley boy, long as he trimmed some of that stuff on his face....Yeah Jr. Gong, I'd shampoo ya locs....Damn, I miss Jamaica!

Working on my Constant Gardener movie review, and my essay of course. Countdown time! Will be posting a survey real soon, need some stats for research, will be eternally grateful for your participation..

There’s more, but I’ll continue later, will spare you a ridiculously long post.

Until then. Supa, out!

Irrational Fear Friday

Happy Fucking Friday, ya'll! Don't know about you, but my week sucked big time. Came down with the Hong Kong flu or somethin'. Bleh!

Anyway, when one of my friends read my blog and discovered I was (once) deathly afraid of pine cones, he just laughed and laughed. Then, he confided that he was (once) completely mortified by the cracks in dried mud. I told him he needed to talk about that to someone in a professional capacity. This started an interesting discussion about anxieties, pet peeves, and just all-out obsessive/compulsive tendencies. Wierd stuff like this has always interested me.

Here is a dictionary of strange phobias. (courtesy of Monk!)
There's some really strange shit in there.

Such as:

Genuphobia - Fear of knees.
Nephophobia - Fear of clouds.
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia: Fear of long words.
Bogyphobia - Fear of bogies or the bogeyman.
Lutraphobia - Fear of otters.
Dextrophobia - Fear of objects at the right side of the body.
Helminthophobia - Fear of being infested with worms.
Phallophobia: Fear of a penis, esp erect. (I don't have this)
Oneirophobia: Fear of dreams. (Mwabi has this)
Cremnophobia: Fear of precipices. (my friend's fear. whaddaya know)
Peniaphobia: Fear of poverty. (we all have this)

I couldn't find a clinical name for pine cone phobia..

So what kind of dumb irrational shit are you afraid of?

Jimmy Frey Gets the Gas Face

So, I'm here chillin' beneath my 'lectric blanket, with a steaming mug of Theraflu at my side, checking in on the Blogworld, off work for the rest of the week, feeling kinda cozy. Then Cocoa Girl hits me up with the info that The Memoirist aka James Frey, will be on Oprah today!!! Read this article. Oprah says she feels duped, and she will apologize to her viewers for initially backing Frey during that Larry King Live episode.

The Memoirist now admits: "All the way through the book, I altered details about every one of the characters," Frey said. "Every one of the characters was altered," including himself.
Ooohh......he's in trouble..... Me thinks like Glamazon...Frey's got an amazing career ahead of him as a ghostwriter/gangsta rapper...

We shall see how this all goes down, but my question is....how do you think this will affect Frey's career and future gigs? 'Cause as far as I know, Jayson Blair's rep is ruined fo' life. Who thinks the world will give this wanna-be gangsta white boy a stay of execution, long as he confesses to Opie?

I do.

Update: Okay, so I watched the show.

First thoughts: James Frey is on suicide watch. Either that, or he's about to start hittin' the pipe again. If he ever really smoked crack, that is. Guess we'll never know...At any rate, as I watched the show, I really began to feel sorry for this dude...because he fell victim to a very human trait...the EGO. He embellished his "true story", and the shit blew up in his face. Big time. Most of us have the comfort of facing our fuck-ups within the confines of our own non-public lives, this dude has annihilated himself in front of the world, and committed a major sin by dragging Oprah into it. And we all know - don't fuck with Aunty O. (as Mwabi says)

Whatever weakness dude had/has to make him spin these outrageous tales - I can't call it. But he's paying the price. The panel Oprah had on today basically slaughtered him, ridiculed him to his face, and all dude could do was hang his head and admit he was wrong. If you've lived long enough, you know how difficult it is to be called on your own shit. Umm..yeah.

I'm not excusing what he did, 'cause as a writer, I still think the shit was pretty heinous. But on a human level - bless him, 'cause he's got some issues to work through.

There's a quote that goes: The fault you find in others, be sure to correct in yourself.

And on that note, lemme go scan my manuscript and make sure my lies are airtight. (kidding!)

Supa Sister, out!

The Writing Crew

Here are some pics of my fam, The Writing Crew, as requested by Obi:

(the three random chicks on the left side aren't part of the fam, they just jumped into the shot)

Acting a fool at the Black Writer's Alliance Conference held in Dallas, 2001

These are the Fellas of the Writing Crew..all very handsome, all very talented...The Fool I spoke about the other day is in the yellow tie.... if you notice in all the pics, he's usually surrounded by women...he thinks he's a mack... (lol!)

My girl Jude and I celebrating my Gold Pen Award win for my book Passion, Pride, and Politickin'...

Here he is again, chillin with me and JA at the LACMA Jazz Event, in Los Angeles, 2003. And by the way, after he read my post, he told us all to 'leave him the fuck alone.' And he hasn't even called me since I've been sick. Punk!

Enjoy. I'm out, ya'll.

Update: Twisted Genius of the Writing Crew has just started his blog. Check him out and see what we all have to put up with. Love you, fool.

10 Things Supa has Learned While Being Sick

1. The flu is evil.

2. The human body can contain unbelievable amounts of mucus.

3. When you run out of rum, Theraflu tastes just as good with a shot of vodka in it.

4. Daytime television can make one suicidal. Or homicidal.

5. Cingular calls me at home to inform me of my past due balance.

6. My Pooch gets really salty because I'm at home and apparently infringing on her quiet time.

7. My mailman sings Motown tunes when he comes up the walk.

8. The ghetto bird (police helicopter) comes out during the daytime, too.

9. The Vicks-slathered-under-the-nose practice still works.

10. Being feverish can cause surprising reactions, such as: braiding your hair Pippi Longstocking-style and leaving it like that for five days, regretting ever saying "'aint nothing wrong with your ass, get up" to your friends/relatives when they were sick, starting to believe that you actually miss your co-workers, making outlandish promises to ex-boyfriends in order to get them to bring you chicken-soup and take out your trash, counting how many steps there actually are between your bed and the bathroom, your bed and the kitchen, etc.


Hey Blogger Fam!! I'm at the office for a few hours, still sick and feverish, but the truth is the contractors working on my house are so damn noisy I simply COULD NOT get any rest at home. And I thought I was doing much better today, but now that I'm at work, I see that's not the case....

SO, I'm headed back home in a few hours, after I get a few priority items cleared off my desk (read: check my emails, sip tea, update my blog, etc.) ....Guess I'll take some Tylenol PM once back at the pad and try to zone out...But I did read your comments, you guys are so sweet! Glamazon, I'ma try that Zicam. Sexy Petite Diva, Cocoa Girl, Southern Gal, One Cool Sis; thanks for the love! Ya'll my girls!! Mwabi and Motor City Hot Girl, awwww, hope you guys are feeling better soon, too! JA, we're going to get the pooches together and JOG, soon as I'm back on my game. Single Mom, you're so right, shoulda been resting instead of being a Dr. Smith groupie!!! LOL Knockout Zed, I think my co-workers started it. And thanks, P!!

I'll be catching up on all of your blogs tonight!!! I'm so sad being out of the blog loop... :(

Supa Sick!

Man. Ya girl is down for the count! Headache, stuffy nose, sore throat, body aches, chills, fever, the whole darn package! Been trying to recuperate all weekend - did nothing except schlep around the house looking crackhead chic (baggy t-shirt, old sweats, ridiculous pink slipper-socks, and a Louis Vuitton silk scarf tied around my head), lie in bed, drink juice, tea, water, overdose on theraflu, whine to whomever would listen, etc. You know it was bad if a sista didn't get even get online within the last 48 hours!

So. Gonna try to get to the office tomorrow, but right now it's not looking so good...still not 100%...(plus, don't want to have a Cocoa Girl experience...) At any rate, hope your weekend was great, can't wait to read about all ya'll's respective craziness...

Miss you guys, hope to be back in the mix real soon!

SS

Holla Atcha Girl

Supa is technically 1/8th of The Writing Crew: a talented, lively, mentally-unbalanced group of hardcore writers who formed a personal and professional bond over half a decade ago. Think of us as a Negro, literary version of The Brat Pack. These fools are my family.

And just like any family, we are both loving and dysfunctional. We party together, travel, drink, smoke, celebrate, argue, pontificate, engage in questionable romantic entanglements, fall out, fuck up, give bad advice, curse each other behind the other’s back, swear to never talk to each other again, vow our undying love for one another, save each other’s asses, and go to blows with anyone within earshot who attempts to sully any of our names or reputations.. Oh, and we also encourage, support, and critique each other’s writing projects/careers. Yeah.

So last night, a member of The Writing Crew left a voicemail on Supa’s cellie, and honestly she wasn’t screening this time, but in the kitchen whipping up a new batch of Theraflu. (I’m really sick this time, for real)

A little background on the member in question: Dude hails from Brooklyn, and is a brilliant, frighteningly talented, if somewhat psychotic, yet all-around gifted writer. (He's a cross between this guy and this guy.) I mean, the brotha is a visionary. So naturally, he's a little off: He's named after a great African King, and because of this royal connection, he charges an annual fee for his friendship (see? delusions of gandeur, classic schizophrenic. And re: the fee, we never pay). But his ass can write. He’s been holding on to a manuscript the creative world desperately needs, and we’ve threatened him numerous times to stop tweaking and rewriting and editing the damn thing 20,000 times every other month, but that's a whole other sordid tale…

Anyway, the voicemail he left was a strange combination of guttural grunts, slurred words, rambling, and intermittent cursing, and Supa replayed the message six times and still barely deciphered half. The only part I got was where he called me, or somebody, (cover your ears, kiddies) a punk-ass mutha fucker. Supa is curious to know, if any of your friends talk to you like that? Sheesh.

At any rate, he sounded violently drunk, freshly released from jail, homeless, or some unsurprising combination of the three. I hadn’t talked to him since the year began, and regretted missing his call. More importantly, Supa wanted to know if he’d been brought in for questioning regarding the now infamous felonious acts the Writing Crew are alleged to have committed one wild night in or around Pop Burger, a bar in midtown Manhattan; or if he was just simply calling to say hey. Supa tried to hit him back, but to no avail...

So, Fool, if you’re reading this, (cause quite a few of Supa’s friends keep up with her via this blog) holla atcha girl! Promise I’ll pick up this time, as long as I’m not sleep. And yo, there’s no room on my sofa, I’m having the living room remodeled.

Love you too, Skidmarks!

Quiz for us Blogaholics

True to form, I'm online doing research for my essay, and stumbled upon (got sidetracked by) this quiz. Have fun! Feel free to post on your blog.

Supa Sister's results:

Your Blogging Type is Confident and Insightful

You've got a ton of brain power, and you leverage it into brilliant blog. Both creative and logical, you come up with amazing ideas and insights. A total perfectionist, you find yourself revising and rewriting posts a lot of the time. You blog for yourself - and you don't care how popular (or unpopular) your blog is!

What's" Your Blogging Personality?

On A Much Lighter Note..

How fly are these????



The result of mini shopping spree at a trendy sista-owned boutique called Pinky Rose, over in the Fairfax District....



I'm a WEDGIE fanatic!! YES, I took my shoes off and put them on my desk. How else am I supposed to get a good enough pic??

And on the eating better tip, this is what I had yesterday:

C'mon Single Mom, Cocoa Girl, and Nic! We can do it!!!

Though I was aghast when I reached in the fridge for my favorite late night snack (sugar cookies), and discovered an ad for Narnia plastered all over it.... oh gawd..I felt the sudden flash of anxiety creepin' up on me...

oh well. Still don't think I can give up the sugar cookies...

Hoe Sit Down Award

This week's Hoe Sit Down award goes to ya girl Hillary.

Talkin' about the House of Representatives being run like a plantation. She just threw out that blatant bullshit 'cause she thought it would ingratiate her with all the black folks sitting in that church. Kinda like when white folks walk up to you and do their best "jive" impression a la J.J. Evans, and think that's supposed to make us on the same page or some shit. And apparently, Hillary, you need a bit of a history lesson, sweetie, because I don't see any scenes like this up on Capital Hill...

First of all...the comparison between Congress and the plantation was just...stupid. And second of all: Ummm...The fuck you know about it?

And THEN, this heffaback from West Africa no less, comes and jumps all in the mix!

Ummm...all that shit you were talkin after the Katrina tragedy, about black folks experiencing a better standard of living now that they were homeless and residing in shelters? HOE, you sit down TOO.

And uhh, CONDI, a preemptive HOE SIT DOWN for you.

Happy fucking Friday!

Scared Straight (Public Service Announcement)

So Supa spent her hectic day coordinating time schedules with contractors in the ungodly early morning hours (work to be done on the house), shuffling lethargic kids to school, presenting herself to work on time (okay, well 8:17 a.m. qualifies as on time for ME), strutting her presentation skills at today’s big meeting, juggling projects, calming the nerves of impatient vendors, yucking it up on the phone with her, and okay, not going to lie about this, checking in and commenting on all my peep’s blogs and posting on mine…. Whew! By the time I looked up it was 2:30 and I hadn’t eaten a thing! Save for a measly handful of gourmet caramel popcorn…

And so Supa’s boss, sweet soul that he is, asked why I hadn’t eaten, and I told him, oh I just got busy….

And so here’s the scary part. He then gives me a stern look and says in a loving, fatherly tone (he’s an older Persian dude, spoils me like a princess, ideal boss, very cool), “you know, at this point you’re riding on your good genes…as you get older, all this not eating right will catch up with you…”

*sccrrrreeechhhh* (sound of brakes coming to a grinding halt in my head)

Suddenly, the Future Supa flashed before my eyes - all wrinkled and raggedy and haggard and hunched over from osteoporosis trying to cross the street with my cane in my horrid Easy Spirit shoes and some bad polyester pantsuit, with someone looking on and shaking their head in pity, going “…such a shame…I heard she was fly once…she really shouldn’t have skipped all those lunches….”

So Supa took her lunch at 3 PM, ran out to the local Trader Joe’s and stocked up on apples, raspberrys, a fruit bowl, juice, vitamin water, Hansen’s natural sodas, turkey jerky, low fat chips, and enough healthy frozen lunches to get me through next week.

Yes, I have a mini-fridge in my office. Oh, shut it. Told ya’ll I was spoiled.

So boys and girls, this is just a friendly reminder that since we demand so much of our bodies, we must remember to fuel them appropriately, lest we end up tired and worn and bent over and ugly when we get older.

(And on the eating right tip, I'm ashamed because I know better. Guess I just needed my coat pulled, so I could act like I know better!)

That's all kiddies! Carry on....

Today's Update: I've almost devoured the entire pack of turkey jerky as my breakfast this morning. I can't stop. This can't be healthy....

Sendin' Some Love

One of my Supa Friends was in a bit of a mini-funk last night, and she called me to talk through some things that she'd been going through...so I just want to take a moment to send her some love, and assure her that no matter what, she will always be the bomb!

SPD, this is one of my favorite pictures of you, smiling and looking (and being) radiant against the beautiful Jamaican sky.

I will always be the Celie to your Nettie!!! I'm so thankful for our friendship and sisterhood. You and me will never part.... *clapping hands*

Love,

J

This Week's Award...

Okay. Now this dude, I mean, bless his heart.

For all his good intentions, he seems to suffer from a severe case of Mouth/Ass Syndrome. This is when the words that come out of your mouth, make you look like an ass. Mouth/Ass Syndrome can be very damaging, especially when you engage in M.A.S. in public places. Admittedly I have been known to suffer from mouth/ass syndrome on occasion. But in my own defense, I'm just some writer chick, not a public political figure in charge of a historically black city that has been ravaged by one of the worst natural disasters in U.S. History and whom people are looking at under a microscope to assess my competence and leadership skills. Nor did I(thank God) make some questionable comments about black folks being punished by God during a really speech on (of all days) Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday.

So, I'm kinda torn on this one, but ultimately....Ray Nagin *sigh*


Take him away!
(and somebody talk to this man, please, for the love of God..)

Here's my girl JA's response to the Nagin fallout.

*Click here to read the article: Fighting the Theft of New Orleans

Year of the Broke Butt...

So, Bendover Mountain cleaned up at the Golden Globe's last night, which is usually a good indication which way the The Oscars will go...

Supa would like to know: Are you planning to see this movie? Why or why not? If you did see it, what compelled you, and what did you think? Anyone? Anyone?

Supa's a hard core movie fanatic, and is usually a sucka for an untraditional love story..I mean, kudos to Hollywood and the screenwriters and actors for creating a never-been-told-before authentic tale, but I really could care less about this flic! Can anyone help convince me otherwise? Do you think my friendly neighborhood bootlegger can hit me off with a copy?

I'd rather see this: Transamerica

Synopsis: A pre-operative male-to-female transexual takes an unexpected journey when she learns that she fathered a son, now a teenage runaway hustling on the streets of New York.

Weekend Wrap Up

What’s gwaan out there in Blogland? All is well in the big city…

Big shout out to my blogger peeps who stopped by and wished a sista well – Closet Owner, Single Mom, Obi, Mwabi, Don’t Push Me, JA, Doc, Miss Ahmad, Cocoa Girl, Shawn, Southern Gal, Brotha Z, One Cool Sis, That Crazy Girl Tam, and Sexy Petite Diva. Your comments don’t go unread (or unfelt), and words really can heal. Trust and believe!

And I’ve gots to give a special big ups to Obi from South London, who posted an old skool hip-hop playlist to his site, which includes classics from 3rd Bass, Erik B & Rakim, NWA, Chubb Rock, MC Shan, Beastie Boys, Run DMC, and BDP, among others. True headz, you betta check him out!

So! Even though Supa claimed she wanted to get some rest this weekend, ya’ll should know by now that was just some wishful ass-thinking, right? For starters, the Ruff Ryders went on and busted my plans by coming down with their own colds. So basically, Supa was runnin’ around playing nursemaid – stocking the house up with juice, water, soup, cold medicine, PSP games, Nickelodeon magazines, etc. , and of course whipping up their favorite snack of Supa's famous fried chicken wings...

And then, of course, I got to speak to one of my academic crushes…wow! Afterward, Supa had agreat big grin on her face!

By Sunday night, though, I was weary enough to start making the Ruff Ryder multiple cups of Supa’s Special Hot Tottie – slices of fresh lemon, honey, tea, cayenne pepper (clears up the mucus), all boiled in hot water, and laced with a reasonable amount of Jamaican rum. After which, The Boy and The Girl were knocked out on the sofa, snoring like somebody’s old drunk uncle. I am happy to report they feel better, thanks to my efforts and constant insistence that they keep washing their hands, eating their soup, taking their meds, and most importantly, kept their socks on.



The Girl, clown that she is, came back into the living room after that instruction dressed like this:

with her pajama pants all scrunched down in her socks. She was being a bit of a smartass. She looked absolutely ridiculous, and Supa got a good laugh! Why are Supa's spawn so goofy? Hmmmm…….. (also pictured is The Pooch)

But hey! Seems black folks were doing the damn thing and shining all over the globe today!

The first African woman elected as President of an African country (Liberia)…
Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf


Queen La looking fab while presenting at the Golden Globe’s….
My boyfriend Shaq gave Kobe a hug before the Heat/Laker game….


S. Epatha Merkerson's win for Lackawanna Blues at the Golden Globe's...


Samuel L. Jackson sittin’ on Oprah’s couch, talking about his next film Freedomland……

PLUS nobody I know got killed in South Central L.A....so like this guy says

"Today was a good day!"

I think Dr. King would've been proud.

Have a great week, ya'll!