Bag Lady's Anonymous!

We all gathered....baggage in tow...we paraded into a dimly lit space. A few words were exchanged with those attending. Some of us made eye contact, briefly, but almost in an intimidating sense of the word. Martinis & Chardonnays in hand, we knew we were all there as victims of addiction. And as addicts, as soon as the anecdote hit the table, it would be "every man for himself"! I was just thankful I wore my flats!

Our addiction...handbags...and tonight's dealer...Nneka Hurley. So what was my drug of choice for the night?...She had the nerve to tease us with all kinds of totes and clutches. Arm Candy is the theme and true to name, it felt like a sugar rush, as each model provoked our taste buds of style. Others drooled, I plotted...how could I get to "the one" in the coolest way without drawing the attention of others to it?




Upon entering the establishment, we were given an array of treats, Nneka Hurley stationery, and a raffle ticket. "Ooh free bag..." Of course, anyone likes anything for free-99! So I tucked my raffle ticket away, in safe keeps of course, hoping I'd be a lucky handbag winner.

A few steps more, and to your right is one of those cakes that you hate to cut! Decorated to perfection in the Nneka Hurley logo! Later I learned that a friend of Nneka's did it all, freehand! I couldn't believe it! I'm still trying to take that in!


Then after the inaugural speech of Nneka, we delighted in a candy parade of delightful treats that sweeten the arms and tempt the hands. One after the other, models strutted with their arm candy under a sea of camera flashes and the touches of potential buyers. After it was all over, we tried to walk in a very relaxed, but hurried pace to the handbag table. All bags, available for sale at a discounted price! I walked around others. Watched as everyone searched and refer to their camera album, trying to remember the bag that got their attention. Finally I saw mine, it was already in the hands of a potential buyer. I saw her eyebrows raise and lips purse. She said to her friend, "I really like this bag!" But I sensed a hesitance and true to my prediction, she placed it back on the table. Pre-buyer's remorse will get you. But if you're like me and you've got invisible handbag antennas, you'll dispatch it to the home of your possession. So, in my smooth ploy, I reached for the bag in a very cavalier disposition. A smile and a nod from Nneka, I'm now the proud owner of a Nneka Hurley bag that is much~too underpriced afforded to the modesty of the designer. She's definitely mindful of the income brackets of her consumers (& friends) and tries to support the inalienable right of all of us, who see fashion as a one size fits all!



I'm happy with my purchase. No buyer's remorse here. I simply can't take my eyes off it. I can't believe that one of my friends made this beautiful work of art. I can't wait to rock it with a pair of bad denims, a white-tee, some kick-rock shoes and my beautiful hair. It's definitely going to get some serious attention throughout the 2008 and beyond! If I've got a sweet tooth, then blame my new handbag. True to the candy theme, there's a treat on the inside, A Note of Inspiration from Nneka Hurley. So what was on my card: Real faith is doing the best you can do and leaving the rest up to God.
I sighed when I read that and put my card away in my journal. Words to live by and a handbag to talk about. Whoever knew that arm candy could be so sweet?

Thanks Nneka...for your annointed hands!

P.S. I didn't win the handbag raffle! : (

Ashy to Classy

They've come along way. Check out my take on those A-listers, who once lived in a cocoon, but then one day, blossomed into a beautiful butterfly. Call it what you want...they've got a gold star in extreme makeover!

Sweaty Palms, Curling My Toes

It's been awhile! No sweaty palms, curling toes, stacatto

heartbeats...I miss those moments. Heavy, synchronized

breathing, my nails digging into skin, my back arched and

anticipating some...mmmmmmmmmmm

Lord have mercy!

Please everyone, pray for me!

Wake Up Alone

I can't believe that I'm saying this...publicly, but recently, I had to walk away from a situation. Okay, let me stop trying to be so politically correct and get reality show honest. I had to walk away from him, ya'll. It was hard, but I grabbed my altar ego Superwoman suit and threw it on. The S on my chest pertruded, as I walked away with my head held high and an ounce of integrity left. Yes, my chest aches and I want to turn back around, but I'd rather be restless. Alone, in my bed, reaching for another heart beat, than settle for discontentment. The reality is, I have to walk alone, if he can't walk by my side. If he doesn't reach out for my hand and looks the other way when I reach for his, we're definitely not on the same path.
Nowadays, I'm absorbed in my work and I keep idle moments to a minimum. I try not to get trapped in deep thoughts and memories. I focus on the present moment and my determined future of love and respect. There are moments, when his name races across my mind. I look at my phone and check for a flashing red light, a missed call, or an unanswered text message. When I fall asleep at night, the hardest fight is to not dream about him. Our last thoughts at the magic moment when we slip into slumber, is usually what we dream about. So the television is my hiatus for keeping me off that dreamboat.
When I awaken, the fresh moment of forgetting what was heavy on my heart yesterday is priceless. But then something reminds me, my Blackberry, a scent, a song on the radio, or my heart instantly remembers that it's time to ache for him again.
I'm okay. Waking up like this. Operating daily with my phone left inside of my car, to keep me focused on the much needed distractions of the day. Prayers by the moment and deep sighs get me through my nine to five. I'll be fine and maybe one day, one day in the future...He'll come for me and I'll drown in our passion for one another. But until then, I'll wake up alone.

V-Day....throw up!

Barf! Barf!....That's the way I feel when the parade of roses, carnations, and balloons make it into the workplace. The economy booming Valentine's Day routine has become purely robotic in the ploy to keep the words "I Love You" plastic and free from actually saying it the other 364 days!
You may say that's harsh to say...but let's face it...we're living in a not so friendly world. Songs don't even sing about love anymore and to actually say the word has ended up somewhere on the things-to-do-before-I-die list!
If you're in a relationship and this day just sealed the deal...then by all means you have nothing but my deepest regards and best wishes. But if you're somewhere in between and I-don't-know-if-this-is-a-relationship so let me get something for you anyway, then I'm shaking my head as I type this and I hope that you didn't just waste money for something that's not worth the time you waited in line to get it.
Hey I'm not the Scrooge that stole Valentine's Day. I'm the Bitch that pulled Cupid by his feathers and said, "quit shooting that damn arrow at worthless assholes!"

Girl, Interrupted...

I'm sorry everyone. This isn't like me. I haven't wrote a thing in a week! It's not that I have nothing to say...It's just that I've been caught up in the business of life! Work, too. That's been really keeping me occupied these days. I promise, I promise...when the time allots my brain to take a break from an unforseen number of tasks, I'll have so much to say and you'll have plenty to read.

Stay tuned...Get the popcorn ready!

Spring Forward or Throw...back?

Say "Hello", or rather, "Hello, long time no see..." Neon is back! Well, with a new millenium perspective. Remember MTV circa 1980s and you've pretty much got the palette for the upcoming spring season! I can't wait....I'm like every American girl, pretty in pink and ready for a spring that's flashing in bold, neon, fluorescent hues! It's HAUTE-pink!

Take a look at J Crews' new arrivals. This is definitely a throwback from my middle school fashion color palette.

Page Six, Paparazzi, Lions, Tigers, Bears...oh my!

Poor Brittney. Poor Lindsay Lohan. Poor Mary Kate. Poor Halle Berry. Poor Beyonce & Jay-Z. My heart goes out to celebrities these days. As the WWW has evolved and every source of information is only a click & download away, it seems that the wall of privacy for the rich & famous is only made out of plastic Lego blocks!
I'd left my television on the other morning, as I performed my daily morning rituals. As I carried forth in the usual routine I watched in disbelief as one of those morning shows showed a video feed at Brittney's house. The volume was down, and I immediately assumed it was her death or better yet, I had in my recent news-boycott missed the death of a pop culture legend? Only to now witness a late night funeral. Damn, even in her death she's still on the paparazzi hot list! But, it wasn't either. I turned the volume up and learned that Brittney's mental state was failing. The paramedics were dispatched and Brittney would be "rushed" to the hospital. "Rushed"? The media had formed a barricade around the Brittney camp, poor ambulance driver! I shook my head then, and I've been shaking it ever since. It just appalls me that our media has no regard for a human being. Never mind the fact that she's a celebrity, with a life and a family (no matter how dysfunctional). All I can think of is Princess Dianna and how her fate was determined by paparazzi....and, for what? A celebrity doing something normal, like driving or going somewhere other than a red carpet event? NEWSFLASH: Lindsay Lohan was seen shopping in Food Lion!
It has gone too far. It has become an obsession and I think we, our society, has fostered it. We continue to buy into the market of tabloid news. There are some things that are interesting and news worthy. But photographers playing peeping-toms and catching shots of Beyonce & Jay-Z snuggled on a beach in St. Croix, is just purely OCD!
I know what you're saying, well...it's the life they chose. But come on, that's not even fair. Theses people were lucky, fortunate, talented, blessed and given an opportunity that I'm sure none of us, if afforded would never pass up. But do we exchange their entire soul for barricades, a paparazzi entourage, high-pursuit photographers...how would you feel if every time you took a bite of anything at your favorite restaurant or walked into a department store, a sea of photographers are a head turn away? Should we punish them for having two commas and more zeros in their bank account? The big screen has faltered the reality of the situation. We think that because their job title allows us to see them behind the eyes of a camera on the big screen or on our television, that it creates this surrealistic view of the celebrity. It's a make believe world where they work. Drawn entirely from imagination and a great ability to pretend. They're not real, or they're not like "us"...so whenever they're out doing something deemed "normal", we are immediately drawn to view them in what's real to us. Wow, she puts gas in her car, we may say unconsciously as we turn the page and see a celebrity pumping gas at WaWa.
I guess it's just the times we live in, but I think we've pulled the curtain a little too far back. If they're posing for the camera, that's different. And hey, if what they do seems inappropriate, think about your Uncle Bo-Bo that does everything inappropriate! We've all known an alcoholic or two, a drug addict, a crazy mother or father....celebrities are no different from you and I. Their bank account, maybe...but they feel and want the same things out of life that we want! Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

Real Talk,
K