Had an awesome weekend. Met new online friends in real life. Met old friends in real life.
Life was good.
I got to meet the super awesome Haftime–in person! And we checked out new music together, live from Prospect Park in Brooklyn.
Alas, I kept Haftime out too late. She didn’t make it back to Philly in time to layout our post.
So check in tomorrow for New Music Monday. It will be oh so worth it. Here’s a sneak peek!
Happy Monday!
Check back tomorrow to hear what we listened to!
Don't be fooled. This hairstyle takes WORK. Believe me, I know.
At age four, I ran away screaming anytime my mother approached me with a comb.
Thirty years later, I feel the same way.
I. hate. hair.
I hate combing it. I hate styling it. I hate hot combs, relaxers, weave, grease, brushes, blow-outs, hood dryers, sponge rollers, hard rollers. I hate getting it braided, twisted, loc’d, cut, shampooed, conditioned, wrapped, rinsed, dyed, fried and laid to the side.
Why can’t we all just rock smooth clean baldies?
Why can’t we place an emphasis on who has the shiniest dome? That’s a style I could compete with.
But alas, beauty and hair have been intrinsically linked since the beginning of time. Much to my chagrin.
A special treat today dear readers. Ms. Clover Hope, who blessed us with an awesome guest blog back in June, is back!
This time, she’s here to impart wisdom on the rewriting process.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it til I’m in the blue face: Clover is nice with the words. I’m honored and excited that she’s agreed to giving us a peek into her methodology.
Clover recently wrote a piece for XXL magazine on the phenomena of southern dance music. (Do the Hally Berry!) Today, she guides us through her process, from rough draft to published piece.
Enjoy!!
Heather A. Faison, AKA Haftime, is the young whippersnapper with her ears to the street. I’m the old fogey who’s trying desperately to keep up with what’s new and hot.
This week: A rapper from Ghana. Another UK chick who blows my mind. And the girl with the song about nails is back. Check it out!
My nephew Jordan is a senior in college. He’s been staying with us for the whole summer while taking classes and working on campus. I love having him around. He mows the lawn, helps out with TG and Tog and keeps me company on the days I work from home.
Two nights ago, I’m sitting on the couch. Jordan and his girlfriend are sitting across from me. We’re all half-watching a repeat of the show Wife Swap.
I wonder aloud: What kind of wife would the producers swap with me?
Jordan’s girlfriend piped up immediately:
“A wife who does a lot of housekeeping!”
Um. Okay.
My nephew Jordan adds helpfully:
“Yeah, a wife who cleans up and cooks. And one who doesn’t talk back to her husband and isn’t really bossy.”
What the?
So obviously, this is what Jordan has taken away from his summer with me.
I’m bossy. I don’t cook. I don’t clean.
Translation: I suck as a wife and a mother.
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Aliya S. King 