Wednesday, June 15, 2011

I've Moved

Did you miss me? If so, I'm here now:

http://thamanagement.tumblr.com/

Note:  If you thought I was random on Blogspot, you will be shocked at my randomness on Tumblr.  I don't have many posts so keep checking back.

- Tha Management

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Shutting Down

So, its about the time for me to say goodbye.

I thought I'd always have this blog, but recently I've realized that I'm not as attached, witty, or invested as I used to be.  I may blog again one day, but for now, I'm going to bid adieu to this space.

Thanks for reading, commiserating, laughing, and shouting with me when needed.

- Tha Management

Monday, April 4, 2011

Is She Crazy or Did He Do Something Wrong?

Friday night was a blur of happy hours, margaritas, long island iced teas, and drunken phone calls.  The exact opposite of what a second year law student with no summer associate position who has a month before finals should be doing. Well, I'm not your typical law student ... I'm MUCH more foolish.

Anyway, I have a question to pose to my readers that has caused MUCH debate amongst everyone I've told it to.

Friday night while having drinks with a friend at a bar, I see that I've missed two calls from a private number.  The number calls my cell again, and I answer because this does not seem like a coincidence.  When I answer the phone, it's a woman calling asking me if I texted her.  I have a blackberry and crazier things have happened so I indulge this women in conversation while trying to get to the bottom of the text message story.  That's when things go left.

Women:  Hi, you texted me last week?
Me: (confused) I did, when did I text you? (starts scrolling through cell phone looking for alias text messages)
Women:  You texted me on the 29th, 30th, and 31st.
Me: (extra confused, 3xs in a row? After scanning texts, sees a recent add, a guy who has a connection with a teacher that I wanted to meet.  Checks dates, yup, texts on 29th, 30th, and 31st.)  Are you talking about C.N.?  I was texting him about his professor.
Women: Yes, that number.  Begins with 973 ... Are you in C.N.'s class?
Me: (Isn't that ninja married? Is this his wife?  Is she calling me to see if I'm sleeping with her HUSBAND?) No. I was texting him about the class and the professor.
Women: So you are in his class? You just said you weren't.
Me: I'm not. I wanted to meet his professor.  (wait a second, WHO THE HELL AM I TALKING TO?) I've been talking to you and I have no idea who you are.  Who am I speaking to?
Women: So it was just about the class.
Me: Yes, and you are ...
*DIAL TONE*

Now, it was very clearly his wife I was speaking to.  I also heard that chick has done this to another female friend of mine.  I also find out the C.N. and his wife were married one week before he started law school and she's in med school in a different state.

I've heard arguments that he must have cheated or done something shady and that she's just crazy and needs to get a check on herself before she looses her man.

My thoughts?  I would neva, EVA, call a chick on a the random to see why she was talking to my man.  I'd ask my man.  And if I didn't trust his answer, that's between me and him, not me and her.  That speaks volumes to me about their marriage

Thoughts?

- The Management 

Monday, March 7, 2011

An Ode to Kris Kross

Rap music really sucks.  I've bashed radio rap so many times on this blog that its not even worth me mentioning anymore.  I could write a post every time I hear some ludicrous* ish on the radio but why?  Who even has that much time in the day? Or gets that good reach of wifi?  Its just not really worth it.  

BUT, I was reminded about how bad radio rap is when I was strolling through the K section of my ipod.  You know what the song Jump reminds me of?  Second grade, summer time, a mean babysitter, Another Bad Creation, wearing clothes incorrectly, and happiness.  So when I hear the song, I instantly get nostalgic.  But since I'm in my car listening to the radio, I also listen to the lyrics for the first time in 18 years and guess what, these kids could rap


and they rocked.

*

"You can get the finger, the middle" was the HARDEST thing I had ever heard a kid say.  I loved me some them. 

Funny story.   I used to think "I need a Ruffneck" was a song by Kris Kross.  I didn't know what an MC Lyte was, they sounded alike to me, I never listened or understood the lyrics, and I didn't know what a Roughneck was.  I assumed that it was a condition that your neck acquired when you were cold, or bad, or in the streets ... 


Watching this video and listening to the lyrics makes me angry.  Please, watch and be angry with me.

Do you remember when Kris Kross came out with an album as adults?  They had the song "Tonights the Night"


I loved this song too.  Watching the video embarrasses me though. I don't know why, but its like watching something you shouldn't be watching.    

This is a video of one of the Chris's who has alopecia. He seems to be doing well for himself O_o ...


Oh, and for my stance on Another Bad Creation ... I never got into them as a kid.  I loved the song "Iesha" but I only got to hear it when I went to the babysitters house.



After watching "Iesha" and "Playground"  I just realized I wasn't really missing out.  #hater #kriskross4life.  First, these children were infants.  Why did they tape these two videos at the same time?  Why do they have them humping the air? And why at the end of each of these videos are they being chased down by little white girls? "Another Bad Little Fad" is right. 

#fail.

- The Management

*Ludicrous and Fabulous are two words children born in the 90's will never be able to spell correctly, and its a shame.  

** Jermaine Dupree, I see you in that video.  I'm guessing you signed Bow Wow because you had a formula for pimping children.  You ain't slick. 

Friday, March 4, 2011

Things that Should Have Never Happened (A series) Pt 2

I have a guest post from Dondasaures Rex (Donda for short) to add to the "Things that Should have Never Happened" series.

This is interesting as she was in the inspiration for the series from a 4am phone call about Pizza.  She received a 1:30 am phone call from a n*gga named KARMA and inspired this post about requesting love advice.
______________________________________________________________________


I went to school for business administration but lately I have been wondering if I missed my calling. Perhaps, instead of being a legal assistant, I should be hosting lovesick lunatics on a beige couch and counseling them on their relationships. Despite never being in love, or in a relationship that has lasted past eight months, I have found myself doctoring the relationships of my friends and family.  Allow me to explain.
Episode One: I meet up with my new friend Diana,* she’s in town for work and is staying at a nearby hotel. I knock on the hotel door excited about all the fun things we’re going to talk about and all the rotisserie chicken we’re going to eat until she answers the door in the middle of a heated discussion with her boyfriend. I sit on the hotel bed awkwardly waiting for her to finish so we could commence the chicken eating. She ends her phone conversation by hanging up on her boyfriend, going on a angry curse laden tirade, then finally bursting into tears. In the middle of sobbing she exclaims that she “hates that cracker ass cracker” (aside: love may be blind, but anger is racist). I spend the next hour and a half comforting, consoling and giving sound advice such as “Negros ain’t shit too.” By the time the episode has ended the chicken is cold, it’s near midnight and I’m mildly annoyed.
Episode Two: I’m driving back from an interview in bumblefuck, MD and get a call from the BFF that starts off with “Hey, you called?” and launches into a hysterical, indecipherable, lovelorn rant. I want to be there for the homie but I’m about to be lost in Klanstown and need to access my phone’s GPS. I issue some comforting words and advise her to breathe. I promise to call back when I’ve reached the safety of the Capital Beltway.
Episode Three: I’m chilling at Tha Management’s house looking at pretty dresses when I get a call from Noah* the boyfriend of my gay BFF, Pookie asking me if I’ve seen Pookie. The ride or die in me kicks in and I make the mistake of asking “Why?” Noah launches into a tirade about how big of an asshole Pookie is and that he’s been out with his friends all day and abandoned him at a party. I put Noah on hold because on the other line is Pookie asking, “What lies has that drama queen been telling you?!” I wonder how I got in the middle of their bull AGAIN but I facilitate them meeting up to talk about the problem with each other. All of this takes about twenty minutes and Tha Management is giving me the serious side eye.
The Straw that Broke the Camel’s Back: Little single ole me has settled in to bed this past Saturday night. I specifically went to bed early so I can wake up, go to spin class, then go to church and thank Jesus for my new job starting this Monday and for allowing me to make it through aforementioned spin class.  At 1:30 a.m. I hear my cell phone ring. I ignore it because a call at that hour is disrespectful. I hear it ringing again and I decided to answer it because a second call at that hour is an emergency. I pick up the phone to hear my baby sister’s boyfriend sobbing and telling me that he’s coming over and that I need to take him home and then return to DC to pick my sister and her friends up from the club. Umm, I need to go to sleep, I ask him where my sister is and he wails that “She’s in the club, she won’t leave!” I’m tired and confused so I say okay. He comes to my house, goes to the bathroom as loud as humanly possible, takes all of their relationship memorabilia from my sister’s room and sniffle’s “I’m ready.”
I assume he’s not going to want to talk about it, I assume wrong. For the duration of the forty minute trip he yells, cries, and gesticulates wildly about how my sister is cheating on him, he has the text message proof (which he can’t access because the phone is dead) and how he has nothing to live for because he gave up his boys for his girl, he lost his job and crashed his car, and now he has lost the love of his young twenty one year old life. I launch into Dr. Love mode and begin the counseling session. We somehow land on how his stepfather cheated on his mom and he would never disrespect my sister and more crying. I tell him perhaps the texts were innocent flirtations and he should discuss his fears with my sister instead of leaving with MY car while she’s in the club. He calls my sister screaming about how he “knows!” about her double life and that he is going home. I hear my sister launch into drunken curses about him being a bitch. We finally reach the club and she gets in. I wait for the fireworks. I’m met with silence. Now usually, I would welcome the silence, but tonight I was pissed. I was dragged from my bed, in forty degree weather and had been forced to drive a hysterical boy around the city. I shrug it off and decide to curse my sister out in the morning. I ask her boyfriend where he lives and he answers, “ It’s late, I’ll just go home with you guys . I don’t want you going out your way.”
What? WHAT?!?! You’ve been made me go out my way!!! The next afternoon I wake up (I missed church and spin) and ask what happened. My sister replies “We’re fine, Sorry bout that Donda”
They’re fine.
Diana and her cracker ass cracker: Fine.
The BFF and her sorta, not really, what the fuck are you then boyfriend: Fine.
Pookie and his dramatic ass boyfriend: Fine (although I have received two subsequent calls that indicated that they weren’t but neither one of them are ready to get off the pot).
Me: Single, sleepy and bitter. I’ve put in enough work for four relationships yet I don’t have one. I’m ready to cash in my Karma. Karma better deliver me with a tall, handsome boyfriend who is fond of curvy, glasses wearing, afro having awesomeness.
 *names changed to protect the crazy
______________________________________________________________

Honestly, she should write a romance book at this point.  She has as much credible expertise as Steve Harvey.  O_O

- The Management 

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Plus Size Dress Hell

I am beyond excited at the fact that I am going to Houston for a conference in a few weeks.  Beyond.  I know I'm on official school business but its Spring break, there are soooo many black people in Houston, and I'm going to be surrounded by intelligent black lawyers, with my accommodations paid for, for five days.

Tootsie Roll time ...


To the left, too the left
To the right too the right
Now dip baby dip.

So, there is a black tie gala during the convention that I am required to attend.  I don't have black tie dresses hanging out around my apartment so I had to go shopping.  Currently, I am a size 18.  That means that I am restricted for looking for plus size dresses, which I am fine with.  I am also 26, which means I do not want to look like an old lady.  I am also a student, which means I'm poor.  

What is a girl to do?

My first stop was Monif C.  I fell in love with this dress immediately.*  


I put it in my cart, dusted off my shoulders, and went off to start contemplating how to solve world hunger when I noticed the disclaimer ...

WON'T SHIP UNTIL MARCH 7th.  I leave for the conference on March 9th.  Am I cutting it too close?  I chose to pass on the dress.  (Sobs into pillow)**

As I move on, I realize how big of a struggle it is to find age appropriate dress clothing for plus size girls.  I have a few places that I always shop:


Which all let me down.  Asos Curve has some dressy options but not really "black tie."  I knew I was going to have to move on to department stores.  I went to Macy's and fell FLAT on my face.  I fell in love with this dress:


Which I put in my cart ONLY for Macy's to tell me that they ran out.  How do you let me put the dress in my cart and almost pay for it?!  What is your problem?

The following stores have really nice plus size dress selections:

Macy's - despite 75% of their dresses looking cheap, you can find something there. 

Also try:


These designers have beautiful dresses:


I eventually settled for this London Times dress in black from Macy's:


I loved the ruching/draping but I'm hoping that the dress is more fitted at the knee.  This should compliment my frame although I'm worried about tata support (but I have a convertible bra that I can wear with this so no worries).  I was 100% against getting a black dress but I realized I didn't have time to complain.  They were having a sale so, with shipping included,  I spent $89.20.

I'm hoping that through my struggle, others may be helped.  I also briefly shopped at a few bridal salons for bridesmaid dresses but the shipping time didn't fit my time schedule.

Now to get some shwanky shoes.  Beyonce has inspired me about the sparkly pumps so I'm leaning in that general sexy direction.  


Happy shopping my fashionable plus size friends.

- The Management

*Isn't the model gorgeous?  We have the same shape (I think my tatas may be bigger, so I know this dress will look amazing on me.

**As I write this I realize I can get the dress shipped to my hotel in Houston and have it to wear on the night of the dinner.  I'm going to call Monif C on Monday and see what my chances are.  Cross your fingers for me ladies and gents

Monday, February 28, 2011

The Romantic in Me is Mean

F*ck her mean *ss.

Jazmine Sullivan has a song off of her first album called "My Foolish Heart."  And, despite the songs mediocrity (sorry Jazzy, it's not one of your bests) it is the inspiration of todays post.



Some pertinent lyrics:

My foolish heart it made me fall in love with him. 
I know it goes with how it's feeling. 
My foolish heart was broken when he left us in the cold. 
Now I'm left to fix the pieces. 

I told you once I told you twice, the next time I won't be so nice. 
You so quick to give it up, when you don't think about us. 
I won't let you keep (keep) hurting me, if you gone keep causing me pain. 
I won't let you keep (keep) hurting me, I'm about to take you out the game. 

Preach sista, preach.  How, may I ask, can one take their heart out of the game?  I keep messing up, because it has as strong a vote in how I deal with men as my head does.  I need her to have 1/3 of the vote because right now the ho is drunk with power.

Case in point.  I met a nice, nice, NICE guy at the Target the other day.

He told me that I was very very beautiful.  He asked me what I did and he was interested in the answer.  He tried to get to know me in a sweet way and he was charming when he asked me for my phone number.  My heart was ECSTATIC.  THIS is what I'm talking about.

My head hit my heart with the "b*tch you crazy."  One, he's not attractive, stop swooning.  Two, CHILE HE'S BEHIND THE REGISTER.  He is being so unprofessional by hollering at you right now. (His line after staring at me walk up to him and say "hi" -- "I was hoping you'd walk in my line."  WOMP, WOMP). Three, he can't type.  Four, his finger nails are dirty.  Five, Six, Seven, Eight, a THOUSAND.

I had reasons for days.  He did NOT get the number.  But my heart was so happy for that ten minutes of awkward hollering and dirty fingernails because its rare that a man approaches me in a respectful thoughtful manner.

Heart, do better.

I know I've been too busy to go out and meet nice men in the places where nice men be at ... and I know that the last dude I talked too, I've been dealing with for damn near 6 years ... and I know I haven't felt that electricity of newness with someone in a while but you can't just be excited about ANY OL' BODY.

B*tch.  And music like this (my new favorite song) DOES NOT HELP TO CALM HER DOWN!



So yea, this is a warning Sistah Romantic.  If you cannot act right, I'm cutting you out of the equation ... and what a sad day that'll be because I really do want to find a man who will stimulate my heart as well as my mind (and a few other places too, nah mean, heh heh heh ...).

- The Management

*Despite the tone of this post, no, this is not about Reggie.  Maybe I'll write another post about where we are now but for the moment I'm just focusing on how I'm feeling.  And I'm feeling like my heart cannot be trusted.

**Can I just say that sista in the video, V. Bozeman I believe, not only has amazing skin (like chocolate in a fondue machine) but an AMAZING *ss.  A guy told me that it was "aight" and I shook my head.  That is 100% homegrown booty meat that is not injected with anything.  You applaud greatness when you see it and that is greatness.  I am jealous.  She made me start doing lunges and squats and trying to get more sun the instant I saw the video.  Oh and that amazing voice she has ... I had chills.  Favorite song FOR REAL. 

Monday, February 14, 2011

Romantic Valentine's Don't Exist for Me

*I'm writing this instead of the final that is due on Tuesday afternoon.  If this isn't a sign that I love ya'll I don't know what is.*

It took me about 10 years to realize that I had never had the movie version of Valentine's day.  I never dated the guy who would surprise you with flowers or chocolates and take you to a restaurant and whisper sweet nonsense in your ear all the while reciting how much he loves and cares for you.

When I realized this, I wasn't sad per se.  I was more disappointed.  I had been in countless long term relationships with guys who'd I'd done all kinds of romanticalish for and I felt gipped.  Where is my gotdamn romance!

So, I went about proclaiming my dilemma to any negro who I could find to sympathize with me ... actually, I told one negro, my friend/side piece Que and he said he would make my next Valentine's special.

I. Was. Giddy.

Que was always going on and on about how awesome he was to his ex and how he did all kinds of romantic ish for her.  He would tell me about lavish last minute birthday parties and hotel room romance ... our birthdays are a day apart so I assumed he shared the same penchant for the romantic that I did.  So I was expecting all kinds of bells and whistles.

All Valentine's day he's calling me asking me random questions.

"What kind of candy do you like?"
"Gummi bears."
"Umm, what about chocolate"
"I'm not a big chocolate person.  I always have to drink water when I have chocolate and I never feen for it."
"So, no chocolate?"
"Nope."
"F*ck."
"What?"
"You always making ish hard."
"I was just answering your question dude."

And so on.

Problem was, despite all these questions, he never confirmed what time I should meet him and where.  Around 8pm, I was hungry and wondering what the hell was going on.  He finally tells me he's ready to meet me and I drive up to meet him at his house so I can leave my car and he can drive.

In anticipation of this night, I get semi dolled up.  So makeups done, outfits great, and heels are high.  In order to flatten out my tummy for maximum Jessica Rabbit hourglass, I put on spanx. Keep that in your mind for later.

I get to him, he drives me to the mall.  No joke.  I'm looking around perplexed.  He parks in the parking lot, looks at me with sad eyes and says, "so I made a dinner reservation and we missed it."

Record scratch.

I side-eye him while he stumbles through the explanation of the restaurant closing at 6pm and what restaurants close that early, and it was a beautiful place where you eat over the river, etc. etc. etc.  But I can barely hear him because I'm HONGRY.  My stomach is telling him to shut the f*ck up and feed me.  My face was being understanding.  He gives me a choice.  Friday's or Chick-Fil-A.  Friday's is packed so its Chick-Fil-A.

The night is not starting off well.

He has a two seater so I never look at his back seat.  After eating the meal (in the car btw, we went to the drive through) he starts rooting around in his back seat to grab something.  I turn around and see a huge white teddy bear.  He notices me notice it and says, "Oh yea, here" and drops it on my lap.  He then tells me he was going to have to waiter bring it to the table but you know the reservation thing.

Mhmm.

While staring at the massive white fluff that was dropped in my lap, he also hands me a tie and a rose.  He tells me to blindfold myself.  I say no.  He tells me I'm ruining Valentine's day.  I think, Valentine's day was ruined at the Chick-Fil-A but I oblige and blindfold myself.

As he's driving he starts stroking my face with the flower.  Only, what the f*ck is he doing that for.  I'm blindfolded.  I start batting at my face like crazy and he tells me to calm down.  I know I'm pouting but he's driving so he's not noticing.  Imagine me, huge white furball, blindfolded, being attacked by a rose.  Sigh.

We park and he tells me to get out of the car.  I say, can I take my blindfold off.  He says no.  He then leads me upstairs around a corner and through the woods and some moreish, while I am clutching the fur ball and screaming about dying and being walked into walls. I hear a door open and warmth.  We are in a hotel room.

Now can I take the blindfold off?
No

He starts to undress me.  HOL' UP.  I wasn't expecting not having access to a bathroom if we were doing the do and ain't nothing sexy about the spanx I'm rocking.  I'm telling him I have to go to the bathroom to take off the spanx and he's arguing with me about not caring and that I can't take off the blindfold.  I'm getting mad, he's getting mad, and I'm about ready to cancel the whole night.  We come to a compromise.  I can take off my spanx if I keep my blindfold on.  I won't even recount how unsexy my 10 minutes in the bathroom was, but lets just say, I had a bruise on my arm when I came out.

The rest of the story is PG-13.  Stop reading here if you don't want to know what grown folks do.

After I stumble out of the bathroom he undresses me.  Buckyball*ssnekkid.  I'm uncomfortable and blindfolded.  He leads to the bed and makes me lay down and starts rubbing the rose up and down my body. I just lay there wondering why this is happening.  He then says, OH YEA, and starts shoving chocolate in my mouth.  I gag on the first piece.  You can't just shove chocolate into a blind persons mouth.  Why is this happening to me?  Then he "makes it rain" with rose petals.  I'm so over the night, I want the chex to happen so I can go to bed.

When I am finally able to take off the blindfold I notice my shabby accommodations.   He has lit 2-3 candles and placed them sporadically around the room.  He then remarks to me, "I decorated the shit out of this room."

O_o

After that I decided that I don't like this "holiday."  It ain't for me.  The romantic in me is dead on the 14th.

- Tha Managment

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Oops, I did it Again

Dammit, I'm going to have to get this poem tatted on my arm so I can remember what boundaries I need to have with guys I'm involved it.



Well, whatever.  At least this time I know I wasn't fooling myself.  It just sucks that I keep making the same mistake over and over.  Never give of yourself unless you are getting in return.

My heart's too big, my eyes are always covered with rose colored glasses, and my mind's too optimistic.

Another again.

I know I'll find love eventually.

- Tha Management

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Things that Should Have Never Happened (A series)

I love my family to death but they can be so damn boring sometimes.  My brother came to town and I spent all of Saturday with him and my dad, then with him and my other brother.  Once 10pm hit we got to my parents house and everyone went to bed.  I was just laying there bored wondering why no one was there to entertain me and after watching a movie on Netflix, I took my *ss to bed.

At four am, my phone rings and I see its Donda's little sister.  I instantly get worried because 4am nights mean that she's in the street and last time I heard of her partying, her fiance was assaulted.  I answer the phone groggily and this happened.

Her: Hey Mgmt, where is the Pizza place near your old job
Me: Hunh?
Her: Pizza place in Dupont
Me: Umm, near the CVS ... P Street
Her: Thank you!

*click*

Me: WTF just happened there ...

Picture me spending the next 3 hours attempting to get back to sleep, only to have my family disturb me during watching "For Colored Girls" (my review: A dramatic c*nty mess) because they all wake up at freaking 6am.  I finally go back to sleep, miss church again, and reside in my bad mood for at least 6 hours.

So, a warning, it is not ok to call people at 6am to find out where a pizza place is. 

Ever.

It should have never happened.

Especially not to me.

I aired them out on facebook appropriately.

- Tha Management