I'm ready to have a baby. I'm ready to experience the joys of motherhood. The 3 am feedings, the frequently stinky diapers, the total invasion of life as I know it. The spit-up all over my favorite tee. The incessant crying and not knowing how to solve it. All of it. Under one condition. If I can look like this 6 weeks post delivery.

Halle Berry's skin is dewy and radiant like she just stepped off the private jet from the Fiji Islands (on my top 10 list of places to visit in my life by the way). No baby-won't-let-me-sleep sleeping bags camped out under her eyes. And her boobs??? Oh my Lorrrrd??!! Most chicks are lining up around the block and paying Dr. 90210 top dollar to get a set of those. But dayumm, those are au naturale??All from being pregnant??? As a straight, strickly-dickly chick I can say this. The pregnancy gods definitely rewarded her handsomely for enduring pregnancy. I don't think I want that much but anything to graduate from the itty bitty committee would be a vast improvement.

Okay I am well aware that these pictures are the result of hours of stylists hovering and yards of spandex underneath, but sheesh to say she looks fantabulous is an understatement. The pregnancy gods cannot only shine on her. Well her and my best friend who is looking supercute with the baby bump but I'm kind of biased because she is, after all, my best friend. But alas, the BFF didn't get the Halle boobs. Could the pregnancy gods be saving them for me??? hahahahaha

I want the dewy radiant skin instead of this dry allergy mess I'm dealing with now. I want the well rested bagless beautiful browns. I want the shiny healthy bouncy hair (okay so hers is a weave but you get my point). And don't forget the boobs. Maybe I should have her people call my people to make sure my pregnancy looks as great as hers. No cankles, no nose from ear to ear, no water retention in places that water just shouldn't be. Just beautiful blotch free skin and boobs. If this is what post-labor and delivery looks like, then sign me up. Impregnate me, damnit!!!

*Disclaimer: This blog entry is by no means representative of the typical views expressed by Janelle, The Resident Butterfly or indicative of what she would write if she were in her sane, graduated from an uppercrust HBCU rational mind. So please don't offer baby shower gifts or your sperm donations as a result of reading this blog.

Spring hates me. I know it. She knows it. Every year, we engage in this battle but I somehow figure out a way to survive and kick her to the curb. However, this year this heffa is kicking my ass. Everything itches, from my eyes to my ears to my throat, and most annoyingly my skin. I sneeze like I'm trying to set a new world record. And the most pathetic part is I like spring...well, at least the weather. It's a precursor to my favorite season, Summer. Maybe that's why this heffa hates me. She knows I like her but love another. So like a jilted lover, she stalks me, haunts me, and makes my life miserable.

I'm convinced Spring concocts plans to embarrass the hell out of me. Last night, I went to the grocery store. Now since its nighttime I have the craziest notion that my allergies won't flare up (looking back, I have no freaking idea where I got that notion from). So I go to the supermarket without my regular arsenal. I walk up the hill, enjoying the mild night weather, loving that I can walk leisurely in a v-neck tee and a blazer. About a block and a half away from my apartment, I feel the little tickle in my throat. Do I turn around and grab my artillery or do I forge on??? By the time I walk another block and a half the corner of my eyes are itching. Oh dear. I fight the urge to scratch my eyes because I WILL look like Garfield the cat. I arrive at the grocery store and firmly grip my shopping cart. I go about my business of choosing groceries off of my shopping list, ignoring all the little "itchies" I feel. As I make my way through the grocery store, I notice a very tall, very handsome man who seems to be shopping from the same list as I am. Okay cutie, I see you. hahahahahaa
Somewhere between the yogurt and the cheese in the dairy corner he actually introduces himself to me. WOW. A gentleman in the grocery store. As I extend my hand to introduce myself, Spring springs into action and forces a symphony of sneezes from deep within. I'm not so sure but I think I sneezed on the man. Great! Just great!!!!! He kind of chuckled and offered me a tissue. I sheepishly accepted and apologized. He continued another few seconds of conversation (he's new to the neighborhood...yadda yadda yadda) and walked away with a "Well it was nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you again. You may want to pick up some Benadryl...hahahaha". What??? That's it??!!!

Damn you, Spring. Damn you and your pollen. Damn you and the itchy eyes and the sneezing, and that nasty noise you force me to make in the back of my throat. Damn you and my daily addiction to Claritin, which is the only med that doesn't make me drowsy (even non-drowsy benadryl knocks me out..hahahaha). Damn you and the Flonase nasal spray that leaves a nasty taste in mouth. If I could boycott you I would. Just know that the more you hurt me, the more I LOVE SUMMER (the season, not my sister...love her too but you get the point, damnit...hahahahaha). If it weren't for the gorgeous sunny weather with the warm mild temperatures, I would treat you like your BFF, Winter, and perpetually give you the middle finger and the side eye .

So spring, hate on me, hater 'cause I'm gonna do me. Itchy eyes and all. I'm counting down the days to summer, my true love. And most importantly, to finally be rid of you.

An Open Letter

Dear Friends,

It was recently brought to my attention that I tend to come off as self-absorbed, especially in conversation. Because the bearer of this revelation is someone that I love and cherish, I actually listened to what she had to say. As my real friends, you are probably already aware that I have the gift of gab. But that gift was never meant to isolate and feel as if I don't care. My "it's soo funny because....." is meant to bring us closer, share a common moment, maybe help you to learn from my mistakes. But apparently it comes across as "unintentionally self-centered". Ouch!

As my friends, I cherish you as the beautiful gems you are. You inspire me to reach for whatever greatness I am destined for in this life. But apparently I'm not doing the same for you. And that hurts. I could explain my behavior away as some only child syndrome or a measure of my insecurities spilling over or my attempt to overcompensate for whatever is lacking in my life. But I'm not interested in excuses, just change.

I know I'm not perfect. None of us are. Hopefully, through all of my overeager sharing you know that all I wanted to do was share. But I want to be a better friend. Someone who listens to you without interruption. Someone who demonstrates that she's "into you". Someone who cares enough to shut the fuck up. So I'm on a mission to change the way I am a friend to you.
Yes, I will stumble and fail occasionally, but it's not my heart's intention when it comes to you and our friendship. So from now on, as I used to tell my kindergarten students - my listening ears are on. I'm ready to not only hear you, but to listen to what you're saying and not saying.

Most importantly, thanks for loving me flaws and all. I would be nothing without you, my beautiful gems.

Love Always,

The Resident Butterfly

Friday Night. Friends' birthday parties. Same night. One uptown, the other all the way downtown on the Lower East Side. The uptown affair was a chill night at Harlem Lanes, the black-owned bowling alley. The downtown affair was a sexy event at a night club where Eve, the guest of honor specifically required her girls to show up in a hot "freakum dress". Damn. What the hell am I going to do??? Both friends are notoriously late (I know I have nerve to talk...hahahahaha), so I knew showing up at the bowling alley at the predetermined time in appropriate bowling clothes would be a waste of time and an outfit. I could have changed clothes at the bowling alley into the outfit for the second half of my night but my fear of public bathrooms and the thought of having to take my shoes off and possibly touching the floor with my bare pedicured feet sent waves of nausea crashing against the walls of my stomach. That option would also require me to carry what would look like to everyone else, a booty bag. And since I had strict instructions from my best friend to be in Harlem the next morning, that wasn't an option. I could go to the bowling alley, stay for an hour, run home, slip into my freakum dress, jump in a cab and head downtown. That idea went just as quickly as it came as the sky continued to dump rivers of rain on the city sidewalks. Shit!!!!!!! This is when my celebritous status needed to kick in to overdrive (I haven't used my word celebritous in a while.Time to kick it up so I can get in the dictionary. hahahahahaha) Between my personal assistant, chauffeur, and stylist all I would have had to do was show up and leave them to worry about the mundane details.


So I did the only option available to me. I slipped on my gold stilettos and teal itty bitty freakum dress and called a car service to take me to the bowling alley. I tried to conceal my outfit with a slightly above the knee coat but no such luck. The split in the front of the coat revealed that there was even less material underneath. From the minute I passed through security at the bowling alley (hey its Harlem), I got the double take like "What the f**k?? I know this bitch isn't bowling in THAT??". Sigh!!! Yes I know my outfit is highly inappropriate for a bowling alley. But damnit I ain't bowling and I ain't staying. I figured in a very celebritous manner I would make an appearance, buy the birthday girl a drink, clink a glass with her, have my drink, then bounce. As I walked through the bowling alley looking for my friend and her party, I couldn't help but think about how many times I've seen someone inappropriately dressed at an event. How many times have I nudged my girlfriends and whispered "She ain't got no friends!" or "Is she serious?!!!" I couldn't help but think it because I saw the nudges. It would easy to dismiss them as haters since they couldn't wear what I was wearing or should I say shouldn't wear what I was wearing (and yes, people, there is a difference...hahahahahaha) but I understand where their judgement was coming from. Not knowing me, they probably thought I just showed up at the bowling alley dressed provocatively - simply for the attention. But if that were the case wouldn't I have opened my coat????

I finally found my friend by the bar in the lounge area. Apparently they were so busy at the bar, they decided to make her party in the lounge area and forget about bowling. While this area looks like any bar and lounge and nothing like a bowling alley, I never took my coat off. Short freakum dress at a bowling alley no matter how upscale the decor just doesn't work. Like a black man at a Klan rally it just doesn't work no matter how you try to justify it.

My original plan was derailed a little since by the time I got there the bday girl was already twisted but I did have a drink for her, mingled, collected a few business cards (always networking..hahahah), then called the car service to come back to pick me up. All in all I was there for the maybe 30 minutes. And in that time I had one drink, caught about 30 eye rolls, had 2 quite thuggish oh so not my type dudes grab my hand with a "Damn, ma. I'm sayin'", and overheard about 4 "What the fuck she got on??". Whatever! I was on a mission. It's not my fault it was impossible for them to know what my mission was.


On my way downtown, I freshened up the lip gloss and popped a mint. Fluffed the hair a little bit and spritzed a little smell good right behind my ear from the purse size spray. As soon as I was granted access inside, I flung open my coat. It was time to show this dress off!!! I checked my coat, and made my way through the crowd looking for my friends. This time I stood out but blended right in. I found my girls and the party was well under way!!!! In our freakum dresses, we dropped down low and swept the floor with it. I found a "soldier" on the dance floor to get me bodied. A few let their inner naughty girls out and those baby boys were so not ready because I know no made me lose my breath. What is it about the recipe of 1 freakum dress, 1 pair of sexy stilettos, a heaping of friends, a dose of good music, and a splash of guys to dance with that makes a rainy Friday night oh so worth it??? Was it the dress? Or could it be the friends??? It gotta be the friends!!!


Friday night. Two friends' birthday parties. One freakum dress. Judgement, stares, 2 steps, and cocktails. For my friends, it's always worth it.

I know its been a minute. 9 days to be exact. And I left you hanging - high and dry (where the hell does this expression come from??? is it high as in unreachable high or I just smoked some serious weed high? and what does dry have to do with high??? hahahahaha). But its all with good reason. I've been busy. And tired. Actually I'm exhausted right now but since a new reader put me on blast (thanks, Kelli...hahahahaha) I knew I had no choice but to write a post.

I've been busy with a new position. It's exciting. It's demanding, and is definitely taking me out of my cushy ushy comfort zone. I'm still a little skeptical. I've never seen so many happy people in one place. I'm wondering if there is "happy juice" in the water cooler or if they are all eating the "special brownies". I'm not quite ready yet to write about it. Not sure if I will. Who the hell wants to read about work anyway?? But if yes IF I ever decide "yesss, I love my job", I just may have to write a blog. But until then I'm avoiding the water cooler and any brownies being passed around. hahahahahahaa

So if I know anything about my legions of readers, fans and stalkers, I know some may be wondering what happened after I posted the last blog. Well here's a mini-update on what's been going on with me.

Tuesday, April 1. April Fool's Day. First day in new position. Could that be a sign?? I definitely wondered if I was a fool for jumping into this new role. But anywho, I posted this picture on my crackspace page in honor of the auspicious holiday. It definitely got a laugh or 2.

And no people, its not real. You know how I feel about relationships and commitment, and that right there is a definite commitment. For now, I'll leave that kind of commitment to my best friend. More on that topic later. Later as in the next time I blog. And don't ask when, damnit, just keep checking the page...hahahahahahaa

Friday, April 4. Tired as helll. I mean really really really tired. Like sooo tired tears stream down your face when you yawn tired. But somehow I had enough energy to meet Jo for drinks while she killed time before a date. And somehow my tipsy tongue committed me to making chicken soup for a sick friend. What the hell was I thinking??? Damn those frozen apple martinis!

Saturday. Jumped out of bed at 6:30 in the morning. Turned the shower on before I sat on the porcelain throne to tinkle. And as I sat there on my throne with elbow propped on my knee and my eyes still closed, I realized it was Saturday and not FRIDAY. Damnit. Usually, the realization will hit me while I'm still in bed so I can just roll over and return to the land of la-la (land of my deep beautiful sleep people, not the mtv chick who got knocked up by Carmelo Anthony....hahahahaha). But never do I make it all the way to the bathroom without knowing what day it is. That was a whole 2 minutes of sleep that I lost. I ran back to my bedroom to recapture those 2 minutes. Got up later to buy the ingredients needed for the soup. I couldn't back out...my sober self had to cash the check my drunk ass wrote the night before. And I must say my chicken soup came out pretty darn good. Just as my drunk ass said it would!! hahahahahaha

Sunday. Spent the day with Hustle. We went to church. Don't get all sappy on me, people, and read too much into this. We thought the mayor was going to speak at a megachurch so we went to see what he had to say. Either we picked the wrong megachurch or the wrong showtime at the right megachurch, because Mayor Bloomberg wasn't there. Thankfully, the sermon wasn't too intense so the lady sitting next to me didn't fall out (on me) with all of her hand waving and occasional joyful noise unto the Lord. HALLELUJAH!!!

At some point during the day, we talked about his questionnaire. He couldn't believe I actually posted it. Of course I replied with "Ummmmmm, didn't you dare me to post it?" Unfortunately, during the course of the day, I violated a few of the questions. And no, I'm not revealing which ones. Too embarrassing. Even for me. All you need to know is that I was shocked and mortified. And for the record it had nothing to do with farting....hahahahahahahaa

So that's what's been going on. Welllll, at least the highlights (or lowlights, depending on what we're talking about...hhahahaha). I know I have to do a better job of balancing my work life and my creative outlet. Just give me a minute to adjust to life in the Land of Happy Juice, and I'll be back on track.