Just a regular day at the gym

I woke up late
(because Nesto woke me up to put me back to sleep)
(bow chicka bow wow)
(sorry. Too much info?)
So I decided to do a short run and then hit the weights
And while I was ACTIVELY WORKING OUT ON THE MACHINES this man starts talking to me.
Why do you have a brace on?
What happened?
Did you get it from your MD?
They don’t have braces for your hip, do they? HAHAHAHA
Me: No, Sir. They just give you a new one.
He finally goes away.

THEN. As I was getting a paper towel to wipe down a machine that some asshat left soaking wet
He catches me at the dispenser:
Do you come here every day?
Me: Just during the week. I hit the beach on the weekends.
Do you swim or layout?
Are you married?
OH. You ARE?
Me: Yes, sir. 20+ years.
AWWWW.. He’s a lucky man…
I was hoping you were single…

And that’s how at not even 6AM, I got hit on by some 70+ year old man.


Over the weekend, I went to a Dodgers game. The Man & I met up with some friends that we haven’t seen since we left Camp Pendleton. Which was a LONG ASS TIME AGO.

Because men don’t plan things well, we were sitting in different sections (which turned out to be okay ’cause they were sitting in the blazing hot sun and I burn like a mother fucker and it was 1200 degrees Saturday in Elysian Park). So they had to go in through a different gate and then meet us so we could show them Dodgers Stadium and yannow: eat.

Meeting place: Tommy Lasorda’s. There’s a bar nearby, and that’s where I go because it’s goddamn hot and also, beer.

Bartender (I’m assuming)*trying to be flirtatious*: Are you sure you’re old enough to order a beer?

Me: Ha! I am well over the legal drinking age.

The very nice bartender pours my beer and because I almost never carry cash, I paid with my card and also handed him my ID because I try to make things easy when I feel like it.

Bartender: Looks at my ID. Then back at me. Then back at my ID. I’m on a horse (I can never resist). Then down at my boobs. THEN BACK AT MY FACE.

Me: *smirks* TOLDJA

Bartender: Whatever you’re doing, keep it up!


Look at me over here aging gracefully and shit.

Work Twerk

So. There’s a guy here at work.
He…Ummm…is not my favorite.
Mostly because I think he believes he should be my favorite.
And I have never given him any sort of indication that he’s my favorite co-worker.
Mostly because he isn’t.

He called me at work after he’d left for the day.

Him: Hey. Can you do me a favor?
Me: I don’t know.
Him: I’d really appreciate it if you did.
Me: Well. Tell me what the favor is, THEN I can tell you if I can do it.
Personally, I don’t think it’s mean to want to know what it is you want.
You’re the one asking for the favor, mother fucker.
I don’t owe you shit.

Turns out I *could* do the favor for him. He left his iPad at work and he needed me to lock it up for him.

But, seriously. DUDE. I’m not in the habit of just saying yes and I don’t even know what the fuck it is you want from me.
ESPECIALLY, work people who tap dance on my nerves just by existing in the same space as I do.

Did I ever tell y’all about the time I met Charlotte Rae?

I did! At work.
And then my boss made me take her to lunch at the Café.

I was pretty stoked because HI. I’m 42 years old!
What child of the 80’s didn’t watch Different Strokes/Facts of Life?
(They came on back to back, back in the day)
(when I was young I’m not a kid anymore, but sometimes, I sit and wish I was a kid again)
(dammit with the songs. I can’t turn it off)
I got to ask her questions, and be all low-key fangirly.
I’m NEVER fangirly, guys. I told Al Pacino I’d spank him.
BUT. I was fangirly.
She was really nice (read: TOLERANT)
She also paid for lunch.
And later, she brought me (and another co-worker) a really sweet mug as a thank you gift that I still eat ice cream out of today.

Also. Did you know that Charlotte Ray was the first African-American female lawyer in the United States?
She graduated from Howard University School of Law in 1872. (Let’s hear it for HBCUs, y’all!)
AND. She was also the first female admitted to the District of Columbia Bar, and the first woman admitted to practice before the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia.
AND! Her admission was used as a precedent by women in other states who sought admission to the bar.

Ray opened her own law office and ran advertisements in a newspaper run by Frederick Douglass.
Charlotte Ray was said to be eloquent, authoritative, and “one of the best lawyers on corporations in the country”.
HOWEVER, She only practiced for a few years because prejudice against African Americans and women made her business unsustainable.
Ray eventually moved to New York, where she became a teacher in Brooklyn.

In March 2006, The Northeastern University School of Law (Boston, MA) chapter of Phi Alpha Delta Law Fraternity International chose to honor Ray by naming their newly chartered chapter after her, in recognition of her place as the first female African-American attorney.

WHAT. You say these aren’t the same people? Is this one of those cases Jack Johnson vs. Jack Johnson?
Yes it is!
Sometimes y’all get facts on random connections like the same name. Because I DO WHAT I WANT.
Even though I’ll be honest and tell y’all that I feel like I’m getting a cold
which means that I took cold medicine and NOW I have medicine head and when I looked up this fact I was like

And then I was like, OH. Maybe I should notice these names are spelled differently.
And that I probably woulda been HIGH KEY FANGIRLING if I had met the woman who made it possible for the FLOTUS to be a lawyer.
And I probably wouldn’t have asked her about Tootie.


This wraps up this year’s Black People Doing Important Shit Even When White People May Not Want Them To History Month. Also known as February.
Sorry y’all didn’t get your I hate Disney Post. Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll make more movies with black people as animals soon.
And I didn’t get to other stuff I WANTED to send y’all. (Yes, Miss…I know I owe you one. I got you)

February happens EVERY YEAR.
Along with the keeping you on your toes e-mails.

And just remember! If you ever get tired of my bullshit with some facts of life thrown in, THE INTERNET IS NOT JUST FOR PORN, it’s for HISTORY. The black kind.

See you next time!

I’m raising her right

My daughter looks exactly like her daddy. Which is okay, I guess. Because

  1. I thought he was cute enough to date/marry
  2. HE looks exactly like his mama.

But my attitude. She’s got it. And also my sense of humor. And my tendency to use song lyrics in conversations. 

On Monday, she texted me to say that she was listening to Macklemore and could not escape. And because that sounded horrifying, I asked her where she was. And her response was to guess. With a clue:

on a boat


I really love my kids.

The airport is never NOT a pain in my ass

I love to travel, but I’m not going to lie… the airport is a huge pain.

Because of people. People coming, people going. People dropping off other people. People who are just standing around lost and are always standing DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF YOU, so that you can’t get to where you’re going. I just..PEOPLE.

So this weekend I went to go visit The Boy and his new girlfriend. Quick trip as he’s pretty close by air. It was fun! I even got to lunch with Grace! And Julia! And various other people connected to those two. I love that my friends and family are close-ish. Because I don’t see some of them not NEARLY enough.

Anyways. The trip home was sort of a mess. Our flight was (of course) delayed. But luckily not for HOURS, just 30 minutes or so. So just enough time for us to get comfortable with being late, but not so late that I’m actively raging against Southwest. Sidenote: I built in delay time when I booked with Southwest because I can never NOT be delayed when I fly Southwest. Or at least, not trips that I’ve taken in the last year or so. Our flight was also COMPLETELY FULL. And then because nobody wants to check a bag I had to check my carryon. Which meant that when I got to LAX, I was gonna have to go to baggage claim. Which, GAH. THIS IS WHY I HAVE A CARRYON, SO THAT I DON’T HAVE TO GO TO BAGGAGE CLAIM.

So I was already irritated because PEOPLE. And traveling. And just dealing with people traveling. I finally get my bag, collect The Man and start walking over to the elevator because we parked there. And then a couple of guys apparently took an issue with me walking in front of them and instead of just letting me mind my business said, “UH. EXCUSE YOU”, like we don’t all hate being at the airport with all of these people and everyone’s nerves aren’t already frayed because SHEESH.

And so instead of ignoring it like I may have normally, because who has time to acknowledge every dickish thing people say, I walk back over and say


I think people forget that just because I’m just randomly walking looking I guess, more or less unassuming I will not act a fool in public. But I most certainly will. And I bet you the next time they decide to snap on a random black girl minding her own damn business, they will think twice.

Because you really can’t be a sassy black girl better than a sassy black girl.

The Oscars are coming!

And I’ve only seen HALF of the Oscar Best Picture nominated films.
Never fear! This weekend, I’ll be somewhere watching the ones I haven’t seen draped
across somebody’s couch while wrestling my water bottle and lollipops from greedy baby hands.
#naughtybabies #theyARETOOidentical #yesIusehashtagsinemails #DEAL

So today’s fact is kind of a gimme. BUT. TODAY’S FACT is also a two-fer.
Because last night I couldn’t sleep. And because I didn’t sleep, my brain isn’t really working the way it should.
Which I guess isn’t saying much, because… HI.

*ahem* In 1963, Sir Sidney Poitier (said with requisite French accent) became the first black person to win an Academy Award for Best Actor. This fact is not to be confused with Ms. Hattie McDaniel, who was the first black person to EVER win an Academy Award. Which is almost 40 years (38 to be exact) before another black person won an award. Not to say they weren’t nominated, but yannow. Close only counts in shit fights and horse shoes (and hand grenades!)

Relatedly, I’m saying all this to say that black people have come a long way in the moving picture industry. When Hattie McDaniel won her award, she sat at a segregated table and came in a side entrance because you know…RACISTS. These days we can come right up the red carpet with the rest of the (white) people! Still not winning lots of awards because…Hollywood. I mean, MAYBE I’m exaggerating. But. The first black person to WIN a screenplay Academy Award won it in 2009. The first person to be nominated was in 1972. I’m pretty sure that black people have written screenplays that have been adapted to awesome ass movies worthy of critical acclaim and celebration.

In all honesty, I’m just waiting for a time when black people aren’t being labeled THE FIRST. Because all that really does is point out how many places we’ve been excluded and are finally getting a foot in the door. I guess I’m waiting for the time when black people aren’t still coming, because we’re already here.

And speaking of coming, here’s today’s two-fer. Also a FIRST. I’m not sorry that I’m not sorry at all. It’s totally safe for work.

Happy Monday!


I don’t just have ridiculous conversations with other people…

I have them with my husband too.

In order to get anything that The Man has stored in the garage, I have to submit a request to “Supply”. Yes. *HE* is Supply. So, in case you were thinking I’m the only ridiculous person in this relationship, you were wrong. SO VERY WRONG.

Anyways, my prima asked to borrow some chairs the day before her jewelry party. I sent an e-mail to Supply because I figured it would be easier. It was not.

Dear Supply, Prima is having a jewelry party tomorrow and wants to know if she can have a few extra chairs for me to take over. Do I need to submit a handwritten request or can I submit an electronic one?

Dear Briya,Thank you for inquiring about chairs availability. You didn’t ask if we had chairs available, you just assumed. In your request, please ask for availability. ALSO: It has been brought to the attention of supply, that you still have an item checked out. Please ensure, that you return all previously checked out items, before asking for more stuff.

AND? Please submit request in writing.

Dear Supply, Are there chairs available for use tomorrow afternoon for a jewelry party? ALSO: My fekking suitcase is by the door waiting on your ass to put it away.

Dear Briya, your tone is out of place.

Dear Supply, You started it.

Dear Briya, I do believe we talked about last minute supply request and the charge.

Dear Supply, I got the request today, which is why I wanted to submit it ELECTRONICALLY.

Dear Briya, Please ensure that supply receives a paper request for items, as we need to keep records of issued items. Supply will be closing today at 3:15pm. If you have not returned your last borrowed item by the time you read this, your supply account will be suspended for 2 weeks.

Dear Supply, That’s BS! I don’t even get home until 8 tonight.

Dear Briya, Supply is closed.

Dear Supply, You SUCK.

Dear Briya, SO.


I forward my e-mail to Prima with a comment: I’ll call you when I get the chairs tomorrow. Supply is being a jerkface.




Because we could all use a change of subject…

How about a look into my family tree?

My Dad has 2 girls and 2 boys.
And only the girls had boys.
And the boys (BOY, actually. Only one of my brothers has kids) have girls.
Also, the girls are done having kids.
So I guess it’s on the boys to make us sommore of my surname.

Really, just my baby brother. Because I’m pretty sure that if my little brother tries again for a boy he’ll probably have TWINS that will also be girls for his trouble.

This has nothing to do with anything except for the fact that today’s my Daddy’s Birthday!

And what better way to commemorate my Dad’s birthday than with a Black History Fact of The Day (BHFOTD)?

On THIS day in 1862, Ida B Wells was born a slave in Holly Springs, Mississippi just before President Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. Wells-Barnett became a prolific social activist and champion for the right of African-Americans. She was also a founding member of the NAACP.

In March 1892 a white mob invaded her friends’ (Thomas Moss, Calvin McDowell, and Henry Stewart) store because was seen as competitive with a white-owned grocery store across the street. During the altercation, three white men were shot and injured. Moss, McDowell, and Stewart were arrested and jailed. A large lynch mob stormed the jail and killed the three men.

The murder drove Wells to research and document lynchings and their causes. She began investigative journalism, looking at the charges given for the murders. She officially started her anti-lynching campaign. She spoke on the issue at various black women’s clubs, and raised more than $500 to investigate lynchings and publish her results. Wells found that blacks were lynched for such reasons as failing to pay debts, not appearing to give way to whites, competing with whites economically, being drunk in public, walking down the street with a pack of skittles and an iced tea (WAIT. WHAT?). She published her findings in a pamphlet entitled “Southern Horrors: Lynch Laws in All Its Phases.”

Wells received much support from other social activists and her fellow clubwomen. In his response to her article in the Free Speech, Frederick Douglass expressed approval of her work: “You have done your people and mine a service…What a revelation of existing conditions your writing has been for me.” (Freedman, 1994). Wells took her anti-lynching campaign to Europe with the help of many supporters. In 1896, Wells founded the National Association of Colored Women, and also founded the National Afro-American Council. Wells formed the Women’s Era Club, the first civic organization for African-American women. This later was named the Ida B. Wells Club, in honor of its founder.

Wells spent the latter thirty years of her life in Chicago working on urban reform. She also raised her family and worked on her autobiography. After her retirement, Wells wrote her autobiography, Crusade for Justice (1928).

She never finished it; the book ends in the middle of a sentence, in the middle of a word. Wells died of uremia (kidney failure) in Chicago on March 25, 1931, at the age of sixty-eight.

An aside: I know I said we could all use a change of subject. I mean I changed it right? We’re talking about a lady who chose to expose lynchings of her people in a time where it was pretty much acceptable to do to people whatever they wanted because even though black people were free they were still considered insignificant and not really people, so what’s the big damn deal because it’s not like people aren’t still killing black folks with no consequence, right? has the same birthday as my Daddy.