Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Holiday Happenings...

Okay, like many in the blogosphere, I went to see the movie on Christmas day...

Shhhhhhh.... Be quiet. You hear that sound???


It's the sound of Beyonce being blown out the water by Jennifer Hudson...

Jennifer made this movie... If it wasn't for her, man, i don't know... Don't mind me though, because I absolutely HATE plays and musicals...

But um, I can see why Beyonce was hating... And if she wasn't hating, then um...

She ought to be hating!!

All I know, Beyonce better not win an Oscar, a golden Globe, or anything else... and Jennifer not win a doggone thing...

If that happens, then um, there is some serious payola ish going on out there in Hollywood... Exactly how deep do Daddy Knowles pockets run??
Because let's face it, Jennifer Hudson did the doggone thang... Really though...

And anyway, could the other chick, Anika Rose, get a little love please? Why on earth did she get lost in the mix? She had a bigger part in the movie than I thought she would have had, given that she was getting NO hype. I thought she did a great job.

Go see the movie. It was well worth it. And that's coming from an Oldgirl who cringes when it comes to seeing plays and musicals.

I just want to see every one get their proper credit.

Enough said.

Anyways, that was my Christmas gift to myself. I didn't spend time with the fam... I didn't want to be stressed out. Just woke up Christmas morning and did the usual... wrap gifts and bake a whole mess of chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies.

Two words: cheap gifts... Cookies are very cheap gifts.

My goal from now on is to spend no more than 100 bucks total on ALL Christmas gifts. I think I spent 90 bucks this year on gifts for friends and family.

What's always interesting is what I get LadyTee every Christmas:

Plastic storage bags, caress soap, and a bag of cookies...

Funny story about the Caress soap: LadyTee has sensitive skin. She got locked up some 10 years ago, and when the corrections officers tried to hand her some bootleg jail soap, she politely asked them...

"Do you have some Caress or Dove Soap? My skin is sensitive."

They laughed at her so hard. I am sure they are still chuckling over that request.

Luckily she was only locked up for a few hours.

Every since then, I've made sure to buy her a bar of Caress or Dove soap for Chrismas.

Now, I can't explain the plastic bags. She just likes to store stuff in plastic storage bags. She's been that way for a good 10-15 years. I don't get it, and I really don't care. All I know it's a cheap gift.

Man, I didn't even have Christmas dinner. That's right, no traditional ham, turkey, cranberry sauce... none of that. After the movie, LadyTee and I swung by YUMS, a bootleg fast food place on the corner of University Avenue and Pryor Road. Those Asians had their establishment wide open, even blasting the Soulful Christmas CD.

LadyTee and I split the $6.95 18 piece shrimp dinner.

We didn't even wait until we got back to her place. We situated it on her lap and ate it while rolling down I-85 south and listening to Old school music...

Damn, that was the best Christmas dinner I've had in years!

Ain't nothing wrong with knocking tradition and stepping out the box!!

We went back to her place and watched a Living Single Marathon on BET. Then I went on home before dark. That was best, because the drunk drivers were rolling thick in the ATL earlier that day. (What's up with that?)

Now I got home right as it was getting dark. Why, when I was heading over to Hen's house to see if they wanted a few bags of cookies, was Snake marching up the street screaming my name?

*LadyLee rolling to a stop next to a screaming Snake*

"LadyLee, I've been looking for you!"

"Shorty, it's Christmas! I've been gone."

He takes a long drag on his cigarette and unrolls a sheet of paper containing words written very neatly in cursive. "I've been working on some verses all day! I'm ready to take pictures and recite my verses."

Now I told Snake last week, since he is always lecturing me about one thing or another, to start preparing a few pieces for my blog. (So look out for "Snake Bytes" soon, alright? But not now.) Obviously he didn't get that. He thought I wanted to start on it that very moment. So I patronized him for a moment and sat out on "the stoop" and listened to what he had written thus far.

It's gonna be good ya'll...

I had to cut it short because a few dudes were going over to the prostitute houses, and they were yelling "Yo Snake, introduce us to your friend."

*LadyLee murmuring "Aww Hell nawl!!!" to Snake and jumping off the stoop, running up to Hen's house leaning on Hen's doorbell, and rushing in when he opens the door*
Snake chastized them for such a request. Not really sure what was said, because the Oldgirl disappeared.
Nope. I wasn't gonna get turned out on Christmas. NOPE. But my Christmas isn't over. I plan on spending a day painting with my Auntie Joyce. And I also plan on spending the day with my Grandma at the movies...

I've decided that I'm going to start planning a Christmas week instead of a Christmas day... That way, I get to spend more time with more people...

But next year? December 25, 2007?

I stood up in my quiet cubicle area at work and made a announcement , to all who would listen:

December 25, 2007, I want to be looking at this:

Enough said.

Hope you are enjoying your Holidays:)

Monday, December 25, 2006

Merry Christmas, Baby!!

I, the Original, Original...

that Original Original Oldgirl.

...would like to wish all of you:

You Children of the Corn...

!!!!Merry Christmas!!!!

Oh, and Snake sends the most Glorious of Christmas wishes also!

Dang! Snake looks high as a kite on that picture.

That's more like it, Snake...

Snake...Sing a Christmas carol for the people, why don't cha!!!

Everyone in the hood is on some old Christmas decorations trip... Snake was the neighborhood expert when it comes to putting up decorations (for a small fee, of course). I caught him putting up decorations for a neighbor.

So, my gay neighbor Stan, who lives to the right of me, was trippin'... We were standing out in the middle of the street and he has the nerve to say:

LadyLee you need to put up some holiday decorations!!

I looked all around me, because obviously he had me confused with someone who gives a damn.

"Nah, Stan, I don't get down like that," I stated flatly.

"But LadyLee, you really need to put up some decorations!"

Now, I like Stan... If anything goes down in the hood, and I need to fight someone, I'm taking Stan with me. Stan has been known to chase robbers, vagrants, prostitutes, and crackheads down and go off on them. He is crazy and I can see him scratching people...

But right now, I didn't want to be bothered.

"Bah-Humbug, Stan!!" I yelled. "Bah Humbug, Man!!"

Well, he ignored me. "Lee, I have a very nice wreath. You can just put it up on your door. It is free, and it is so nice."

I tell you, just because they go all out with the decorations don't mean I have to.

Their house...

My house:

Nothing but the darkness, baby...

"Bah-Humbug, Shawty!!!!!"

Why is it that I come outside the next morning and the wreath is hanging on porch light?

Humph. Just gonna force me to put up decorations.

Snake showed up a few days later with a nail and put the wreath on a door... for a small fee, of course...

I think it looks nice. Doesn't match my door, but it was FREE!! A slightly better picture, with a, um, random hood cat, posing in the picture.

I look a little closer at that cat and I believe it belongs to Tayari Jones...

Why? Because it looks so... I don't know... literary, with those scary yellow eyes...

...Eyes as yellow as the golden sun just before it kisses the horizon at the end of a crisp autumn day....


Tayari, don't be sending your cat over here unless you wrap the first 100 pages of your manuscript tied to his collar...

Go find your mama, kitty, and spend Christmas over in SWATS with her... and snatch that manuscript off the table for me!!

Believe DAT!!! That would be one heck of a christmas gift, Tayari (hint, hint!)

I will stop rambling... I have gifts to wrap, and I bet you do to!!!

Just stopped by to wish you a Very Merry Christmas!!

Thursday, December 21, 2006


***I'd like to send this recipe right herre out to Miss Celie (Sherri)... because she scratches out my head when I was ailing...

Sistah... you been on my mind, ooooh, sista, we two of a kind.... ROTFLMAO!!!!

Some people...

I tell you...


Like that doggone Celie, aka Sherri, aka Ms. Blackliterature.com,

She likes to sit off in the corner, off in the cut, all wide-eyed...

Wishing, wanting, waiting, hissing, moaning and hoping for a gumbo recipe.

She sometimes stands out in the middle of a field somewhere in the Carolinas, crying and crying...

She even grabbed Nettie, aka, BBall Mama's hand...

...and they're both justa wailing and crying for a gumbo recipe!!

So, I guess I will TRY to stifle some of the wailing by posting my gumbo recipe.

Warning, warning, WARNING.... It is long, long, LONG.

And it is heavy on the Bootleg tip... Heavy with a capital H. So be forewarned.

Just work with the Oldgirl, a'ight?


Let's go head on and do the darn thing!!



Alright, if you don't eat seafood, leave out the seafood. If you don't eat pork, leave out the pork. If you don't eat meat, then use tofu... well, you don't need to be making gumbo. Go have a glass of carrot juice or something. Humph.

2 pounds each of the following:

Chicken parts (preferably dark meat. Sherri is, um, a bit special, so she gotta use that skinless boneless chicken meat. Do your thing, Celie!)

Sausauge (preferably andouille, if you can find it. I usually use polish, andouille, and beef sausage. If you can find hot sausage, get it. I haven't been able to find it outside of Louisiana).

Shrimp (don't get those little ass shrimps either, Sherri...act like you got some sense and buy the jumbo shrimp).

Crabs (I like snow crabs. Get the blue crabs if you want. I don't have a good understaning of how to eat a blue crab, so I'm down with the snow.)


1 cup red bell pepper,chopped
2 cups onions, chopped (I use red onions, but use whatever type you want)
1 cup green onions, chopped
2 cups bell peppers, chopped
1 14 0z can diced or stewed tomatoes
2 packages of frozen cut okra (man, I don't know what size! How about get enough packages to give 3 cups of okra... yeah, that's the ticket!)
1 bay leaf


(Sherri, use the roux your peeps gave you. Trust me, hon... Use the roux Big Mama and dem gave you.)

2 cups of flour
1 cup of oil (vegetable or canola)


A pot of cooked rice.

(Look here, I ain't giving you directions on how to cook rice. If you can't cook rice, stop right here. Go do something useful and make yourself some toast instead.)


(Okay, work with me now, for I am not Betty Crocker... I am more like Shaquita Crocker.)

1. BOIL the chicken and the sausage together in the largest pot you have. From henceforth, it will be referred to as the "Gumbo pot". This should take about 1.5 hours. I like for the meat to fall off the bone, so I boil it a little longer. There should be enough water at all times to cover the meat.

2. Next, you have a few options...

a. Add all veggies (EXCEPT OKRA and tomatoes) to the gumbo pot 30 minutes after you start boiling your chicken. Continue to boil.
b. Add all veggies (EXCEPT OKRA and tomatoes) to the gumbo pot after you boil your chicken. Continue to boil.
c. Sautee all veggies (EXCEPT OKRA and tomatoes) in a pan with either half a stick of butter or some oil. Then add it to the pot. This is the method I use. Why? I don't know why, I just do it.

All I know, you BETTER NOT put that okra in there at this point or your gumbo is going to be slimy. Yeah, I did it before, and you don't want slimy gumbo... YIKES!

3. Add the canned tomatoes to the gumbo pot. Continue to boil. Make sure you have enough water to cover everything. If you don't, act like you got some sense, and ADD WATER TO THE GUMBO POT!

4. Um, now let's deal with the okra issha.

Now, my coworker, a Louisiana native, gave me a recipe a few years ago, and she had in there that I had to "rope" the okra.

What the hell?

You know me. I questioned her about this. She didn't explain it well to me. I asked another Louisiana native, and he didn't explain it to me well either.

"Hey ya'll...What does 'rope' mean?"

They both looked at me like I was ignant. "You know, 'rope' means to rope it, Ladylee."


Let's just say that I placed that recipe in the back of a drawer somewhere.

Anyway, I found what roping meant from a cook book a few years ago... Basically what you're doing is sauteeing the okra in oil until it is no longer slimy. It is quite simple. Just heat some oil (1/2 cup?) in a pan and add the okra. Keep stirring it until all the sliminess is gone. When the slime is almost gone, the okra will start to break up. Add more oil if necessary to evaporate out the slime.

Add your roped okra to the gumbo pot containing the chicken and sausage.

Got that?

If not, then, uh... go back and read it again... You gotta be smoking something if you don't get that.

Now let's keep it moving...

5. Reduce your pot to LOW heat.

6. Make the Roux.

*LadyLee frowns and scowls REALLY REALLY hard*

I hate making roux. I just hate it with a passion. Sometimes I burn myself making it. Sometimes I burn it up because I was doing something stupid, like yacking on the phone or watching TV. Just watch out because it will go south on you in the blink of an eye. That's all I gotta say about that.

Roux is basically fried flour. Yeah, that sounds stupid. This is why I am glad that Celie, aka Ms. Blackliterature.com, sent me a photo of the roux that Big Mama and dem gave to her...

Yeah... I'm down for that. It looks incredibly bootleg, so you know it's off the chain!! I will be looking that up, so that I can order it...

So I can bypass this whole homemade roux craziness.

Now I must admit... I am not sure that I have the proportions of oil to flour right, but it sounds alright to me. If not... I suggest you work that ish out.

a. Anyway, heat the oil (1 cup) in a pan on medium high heat. Add the flour, a little at a time, being sure to stir it WITH A FORK continuously. Once you've added all of the flour, it should look something like this:

It's all white and bubbly. If it is not bubbling, turn the heat up. If it's not smooth looking, i.e., it looks a little dry or looks jacked up in general, add more oil. It should have a smmooooooth consistency.

b. Now, you need to just keep stirring it. Think of it as frying chicken... without the chicken. Be careful, though, because if you get it on yourself, it burns you. (Yes, trust me on this. The Oldgirl sports several battlescars.) You are basically browning the flour, until it becomes the color of a penny. Now I read up on this somewhere, and you can make it as dark as you want to, even black... but um, I do not suggest that. The penny color is dark enough. Anything further than that is BURNED. (Trust me, I know this, man.) If you burn it, do yourself a favor and start over. You know you are finished when it looks like this:

Brown like a penny... Not a old penny, but a brand new penny.

7. Add the hot roux to your the gumbo pot. Stir it to assure that the roux gets mixed in. If you want to be like the southerners, let that ish cook all day on low. But you better stir it occasionally and add a little water to it. I, the Oldgirl, have burnt up a couple of pots of gumbo in the past.

8. Add the shrimp and crabs to the pot. Make sure there is enough water to cover everything. What I like to do is boil my shrimp and crabs in a separate pot, then add the boiled seafood, along with a little of the water to the gumbo pot. Do whatever works best for you, i.e., work it out!

9. Serve over cooked rice.


You can use what's called file (ground sassafrass leaves) to thicken your gumbo. I don't do that. I use the roux as a thickener.

Some folks add the okra at the very end. As a result, no sliminess. I've tried it, and um, it don't work out for me, babes! I just go ahead on and "rope" it.

As you can see, I use A LOT of meat. A LOT. That's just me. You don't need that much meat. Cut the amount of meat in half, and it should be just fine. I just have a tendency to freeze huge batches of it, because I REFUSE to make it more than twice a year (Thanksgiving and 4th of July). If you're just trying to make a quick pot, then you don't need much meat... It's all on you, Shawty... Work it out!

Whatever you do, DO NOT leave the gumbo sitting out to cool. Sit the whole pot in the refrigerator hot, because it will go bad. I remember 3 years ago that I finished preparing the gumbo at 1 AM on Christmas eve, and I was going to get up at 5 AM to put it in the refrigerator. Well, when I got up at 5 AM, it had gone bad just that quick. It was bubbling and tasting crazy.

Man, you should have seen myself, LadyTee, and my sister Kentucky standing over that damn pot arguing with each other.

Kentucky tastes the gumbo. "Lee, it's alright, you don't have to throw it out. It's just fine."

LadyLee takes a taste of it. "I don't know, Kentucky, it smells a little rank, and it tastes like it is spoiled or something.

LadyTee frowning up at both of us, which means she's about to snap. "Both ya'll negroes crazy as hell if ya'll eat that ish... Look how it's bubbling. And it smells like a$$!!! Ya'll gonna fall out from some damn botulism."

**LadyLee is completely spooked by LadyTee's rant and throws out the gumbo.**

Had to throw it all out, man... and start all the way back over. On Christmas day, mind you.

Damn, damn, DAMN...

Had to start all over, mayne... and it was NOT a good look. Pissed me off something terrible!!!!

Now, I went back to work and told my Louisiana coworkers about the rapid spoilage. They looked at me like I'd just gotten off the bus or something. "LadyLee, you have to put it away immediately or it goes bad!"

Duuuh!! NOW you tell me.

Take it from me... Don't leave it out. Make space in the fridge and put it up.

So that's my gumbo recipe... Bootleg as all get out, mind you... but you should be able to create something good.

And like I always say? If you run into problems...

Work that ish out!!!!

Now I think I did okay with that, Celie, I mean, um, Sherri...

Because you sure do look happy... Hope it works out for ya!!

Monday, December 18, 2006

The Scoop from the Stoop..

As you know, there is always something interesting going on in my hood.... and the mayor of my hood Snake is always ready to be photographed, for a small fee, of course... LOL!

So one bright sunny Saturday evening this summer, I decided that I was going to jump in my car and go to the gas station. I wanted to gas up my car and put a little air in my tires so that I could go to the early Church service the next day. If there is one thing I just can't stand, it is gassing up in the morning when I'm trying to get somewhere.

So I get in my Zoom-Zoom and head down the street towards Hen-Dog's and Tiny's house. I notice them sitting out on "the stoop", just chilling. Tiny's Mustang doors are open wide, radio blasting music. I slowed down and spoke to them.

"What the heck are ya'll doing?"

They both looked at me. Hen-Dog shrugged. "Just chillin', listening to some music. Where you going?"

"I'm going to get some gas and put some air in my tire."

"Alright, later."

I let up my window and kept it moving.

I came back some 15 minutes later and they were still sitting out there on "the stoop"... just chilling.

"Ya'll still out here?"

"Yeah! Still chillin'." Tiny yelled.

I frowned. It was getting dark outside. They really needed to move closer to the house.

I drove on up to my house, some 4 houses up from Hen's house.

Now, "the stoop" is the rock retainer wall in front of Hen-Dog's house It is the area in front of the black iron fence in front of his house. It is a good spot for viewing all the illegal activity that occurs on the cross street next to our street, without getting involved. Let's just say, if we have to break out running, we can. If someone starts shooting or fighting, we are far enough away from the corner to get the hell on into Hen's house if need be.

My first experience of seeing some craziness jump off while sitting on the stoop was when Snake cussed out an unruly prostitute for questioning his integrity. I hadn't even moved over there then. I just happen to be an Hen-Dog's house.

But this day, I was bored as all get out. Around 9:00 pm that night, I looked out my window and saw Tiny and Hen-Dog down the street, sitting in the same spot...

Just chillin...

Like I said, I was bored, so I grabbed a quart of bottled water and walked down the street and hung out on the stoop with them.

All I know, the corner was a bit hot that day. There was MUCH activity going on that night....


First of all, several prostitutes live in the blue house on the corner. They all seem to have moved in last spring or something. And, as you can imagine, there is a good amount of traffic around their place.

Why, LadyTee and I were standing outside my house one day and heard one of the prostitutes yelling

"P**** for sale, P**** for sale... "


*LadyLee and LadyTee standing in the middle of the street, slack jawed and speechless, not believing we'd heard such a proclamation*

That woman was just a yelling, all out in broad daylight, like it was no big deal.


Well, that night, while hanging out with Hen and Tiny, I saw a lot. The drug dealers were running up and down the street, holding up their oversized pants, trying not to trip up over their t-shirts, retrieving goods from the dope house, which happened to be two house up from my own house...

No one paid us any attention though. We were sitting there, on the stoop, BLASTING Nancy Sinatra's "These boots were made for Walking" and "Bang, Bang" along with other bizarre music.

Negroes playing that type of music in the hood from a hot sound system must be a bit, I don't know...

Touched... Special...

Especially when Hen and Tiny were jumping around during the playing of "Nancy Sinatra's "Bang, Bang" yelling "Man, that song right there is HARD. That song is HARD!!!"

Yeah, just looking at us, you would thingk we were a bit off. Best to be left alone.

Most notably, one of the prostitutes that stayed in the blue house on the corner was putting in quite a bit of work. She would stand on her front porch with a hand on her hip, smoking a cigarette, waiting on customers. A car would pull up, she'd jump in the car and they would drive off.

She'd return approximately 10 minutes later.

Well you know me... I was FULL of questions.

"Man, what is she doing in 10 minutes time?" I asked, after seeing her exit the fourth car.

"She is doing something oral." [Note: Not exactly what was said... I'm just trying to keep it clean, ya'll.]

I winced, took a long drink of my water.

"Man, how much money ya'll think she makes for 10 minutes? She gots to be making a good 100 dollars each time. She gotta be."

Both Hen and Tiny looked at me like I was crazy.

"Naw LadyLee, they make 5 to 10 dollars."


*LadyLee looking at them both with a raised eyebrow, wondering how the heck THEY know the oral prices*

"Man, you GOTS to be joking! Stop playing!"

Hen shook his head. "Lee, do you realize that these are Zone three hos? Ain't nobody comimg down to Zone three to pay 100 bucks for a hooker."

"Shoot man, I gots to be making a good 100 bucks a pop each time. You realize how many men she have to do to make 100 dollars? Ain't no way, man. Ain't no way."

"Girl, they trying to make enough money for that next hit of crack, and that's it," Tiny yelled.

"Still, that's some craziness."

But is it?

I must confess that whenever I see a prostitute, I always think back to a sermon I heard some 6 years ago at the church I attended when living in New Orleans. And it wasn't one of those sermons putting down prostitution...

It was a sermon about judging people.

My pastor at the time said something to the effect of, "You know, it's pretty jacked up for you to turn your nose up and criticize a prostitute. You don't know the backstory that led her to that point in her life. You really don't know."

Now, I thought he had a point. Because, really, you don't know. I can't imagine someone, as a young girl, having the goal of someday being a prostitute.

But he went on to say something else. "And a lot of you ladies have had a man leave a little cash on the nightstand after he spent the night. Yeah, that is a bit similar to prostitution. You didn't think of it that way. You just needed some money to feed your kids, right?"

I remember the whole congregation being quiet that day. No jumping, no shouting...

No Hallelujahs.

Just quiet...

It made me think back to when I was in grad school, and I had a boyfriend who came in late from the club and decided he wanted to, um, bother me for a little loving. I told him that he'd been at the club, and I wanted to get paid just like them stripper broads get paid. I mean, I was the one screwing him. They were just dancing. If he wanted to do it, then he was going have to pay me.

"You serious, Lee?"

"Hell yeah!"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "How much?"

"20 dollars."

"Are you serious?"

"Hell yeah!" I yelled, getting all hype. I was wide awake, then. I was broke and I needed the cash. I wasn't getting my monthly stipend for another week.

He nervously pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, folded it, and gave it to me.

Let's just say the Oldgirl put in work that night. A LOT of work.

I woke up the next morning, all excited to see the 20 dollar bill on the nightstand. I believe that was a Sunday morning. That money was very precious to me, and I made it last the whole week, using it for gas for my car, for bus tokens, for food.

I stretched that 20 bucks.

Meanwhile, my boyfriend was nervous all week.

"Lee, I cannot believe you got all giddy over 20 dollars."

"I needed it. And if you wanted to get it that night, you were gonna have to hand over the cash."

He was quiet around me for awhile after that.

I think about that everytime I see a prostitute these days, but I've never told anyone.

Especially after that sermon. My pastor went on to say "Did you ever think about the woman's backstory, how she got into being a prostitute?"

I never had...

Was it from a decision she made? Kind of like the one I made that day back when I needed a little money to make it to the next stipend check?


I realize that it ain't all that great to judge folks. I mean, we don't know the backstory, the hardship... especially if it is a stranger. We all got family members who got over into triflement and what not.

And I am a firm believer that, some years ago, two or three bad decisions could have us all in a bad spot, doing some things that we would never dream of doing.

I didn't tell Hen and Tiny that I was thinking all this when we were watching the prostitutes work the corner. They would have laughed, and I would have laughed right along with them. Because people who know the person I have grown to be today wouldn't believe such a story...

But 'tis true.

So, I don't judge the chick standing on the corner doing her thang. I'm not sure what happen to get her there. In our hood, it is safe to assume a drug habit of some sort...

But we all know that assumption is the lowest form of human thought.

So as I sat there on the stoop that day, listening to crazy music, sipping my bottle water, singing with my friends...

Watching the prostitute wait patiently for the next customer, the ember of her cigarette glowing brightly, and her flicking spent ashes into the bush next to her door...

I realized...

I can't judge you, lady... I can only wonder at what point in your life did you jump that hurdle in your mind that made you decide that that lifestyle was the only way to go...

And I'm a bit more careful to judge myself, earnestly trying to make sure I don't jump those same hurdles in my mind.


Just a thought...

Saturday, December 16, 2006

HaPPy BiRtHdAy TINY!!*

Okay... Hopefully this is my last birthday tribute of the year...

I wanted to give a shout out to one of my FAVORITE HOOD Eye Candy CHARACTERS....


Tiny is always happy to take pics... I always catch him doing something strange or crazy.

Last week, he came over and yelled, "Oldgirl, how you like the way I cut my beard? I was trying to do a little something different."

I looked at him like he was crazy (as usual). "It look alright."

I could really care less, because I am a goatee loving female... Really though.

Tiny is one of those peeps who know I don't answer my door. He knows this al too well. He will call from my front porch to let me know that he's at the front door.

Maybe I should stop answering the phone. Humph.

Anyway, sometimes I get caught, and I forget to put the food up before he comes in... Which is always funny, because he don't eat food...

He inhales it...

We did have to get something straight. He knows that he better not drink my good expensive juice. Pisses me off everytime he runs up on my fridge and yells, "Lee, you got anything to drink?"

I keep the cheap bootleg 3 for 0.75 cent Faygos in the laundry room cabinet just for him.

It took a few of my verbal shankings to set him straight, but I think he gets the point now.

(I still have to watch that dude, though. He can be sneaky.)

Tiny hangs out in my garage alot. I let him use it to do whatever he needs to do with his car. But it looks as if people think he lives with me, and we got a thing going or something. One of my new neighbors, Timmy, questions me on this, a bit too much, with his damn flirty self...

"LadyLee, so what's up with Tiny?"


"What's up with Tiny? He sure is around alot?"

"And? What's your point?"

"What's up with that, baby?"

*Lee backing up a tad to get out of Timmy's reach, as he likes to reach out and touch me from time to time. Never mind that we are on the porch and his WIFE is in the living room.*

"He is using the garage. And he comes in to say hey or to eat up my food?"

Timmy looks at me with raised eyebrows.

"Dude, ain't ish going on with me and him. I like my men Hershey bar dark. And he too young. Bump that."

"It just looks like he lives with you!"

Good. That's the effect I want. Tiny doesn't work during the day. The neighbors on either side of me have been robbed and cleaned out. I have not.

Good. Bustas don't know if he lives there are not. THIS is the effect I want.

Tiny even calls me at work during the day sometimes!

"Lee, the police is out here chasing some dudes... there are helicopters and everything out here."

"Lee, I cleaned out the garage for you, stacked a few things, swept it out, and took care of a few other things."


Thank you, Tiny, my one man security team and janitorial service. The neighborhood association wants to charge $140.00/month for security one day a week, only 4 hours a day.

Excuse my language, but they can kiss my a$$. Sorry, but that just pisses me off.

Now, I was at home one day this week, taking care of some flooding isshas, and I walked outside and saw Tiny washing his car.


I didn't know whether to scream "Black Jesus!"... (like we usually do when we catch him with his hair down...)

... Or break out in a chorus of "It's them thuggish-ruggish BONES! It's them thuggish-ruggish bones!!!"

All I know... Tiny sure does have a whole lotta hair!!! Goodness. I have a laundry sink, and a while back, he asked if I would wash his hair...

Negro, is you crazy????!!!

HELL NO! I might get lost in all dat!!!

There's a horse running down I-85 south, wondering what the heck happened and what is going on, wondering who in the world stole its hair! LOL!!

I don't know which is worse... the wild Mountain man look or this look...

I told him to kill the Pochahontas ish... I didn't care for that. That was some craziness. He ignored me as usual...

He ignored me because he saw the food in the kitchen. I happened to have just baked a big batch of chocolate chip pecan cookies and oatmeal walnut cookies, and some chicken wings. He was inhaling food, us usual.


Oh, yeah Chele, a while back you asked about his butt. There you go!

And you better catch that, because that is as raunchy as my blog will ever get, LOL! I told him that he don't really have a nice butt, but he somehow wanted to prove me wrong.

"Lee, I can go put on a pair of boxer briefs so you can get a better picture of my butt."

"Uh, No," I said a bit too quickly... "Keep your pants on, baby. We don't want any problems. Gotta keep it PG-rated, boy!"

And he just looks a bit, I don't know, special in this photo...

He looks a bit touched, as my grandma would sometimes say about people who are a bit special.

My brother, Milk and Cookies, and Tiny share an interest in cars and spent A LOT of time this summer out in the garage upgrading the Mustang...

Milk and Cookies is a lot like me. He doesn't like to bother people. But he wanted to know if Tiny would let him help with any repairs, etc. I told him yeah, but one thing about Tiny... That negro is EXTREMELY talkative, so watch out.

Needless to say, they had the male bonding thing going on... And it kept me from being disturbed, so I was down with that.

Plus, Milk and Cookies liked Tiny because he gives the free haircuts!!

Last month, I was yacking on the phone with my best friend LadyTee, and Tiny came into the house. I was trying to hold conversations with both him and LadyTee at the same time, MUCH to LadyTee's dismay. She unceremoniously and graphically told him to get on somewhere because he was interrrupting our girl talk time.

She asked me to ask him why they call him "Tiny", because in her words:

"He's a big ol' sucka!"

I've been knowing Tiny for a couple of years, and I've never thought to ask him that question. As a matter of fact, I didn't know his real name for the longest. Just didn't think to ask, I guess.

Anyhow, I posed the question.

"I was born three months premature, with sickle cell trait, asthma, pneumonia, and yellow jaundice. They called me Tiny, and the name stuck," he said.


"Good Gracious alive," LadyTee yelled. "Shorty," she said, "don't you EVER let me hear of you getting down and depressed or wasting your life, because after all that, you are meant to be here!"

That made me think. You know, after all a lot of us been through... we are meant to be here...

We all have a purpose.

Just a little food for thought.

Anyway, Big Tiny... I would like to wish you a Very Very HAPPY 33rd Birthday!!

Thanks for being my one man security team! Thanks for all the handyman ish you do around my house.

And thanks for making me come outside and talk to you when you work on your car! (Sometimes I hate you for that, especially when it was HOT as hell outside and/or I was trying to get some writing done!!) I am always happy to listen to you when you gotta vent or whatever.

Thanks for listening when I gotta vent, too, Shorty.

We've had the most interesting convos... with your talkative self...

You do know how to make an Oldgirl think! Got me having to go journal after we talk sometimes... Geez.

Have a Happy birthday, Old Boy!!!

And many many more!!!