Will Smith is being quizzed about a private school he and his wife are opening. It's called the New Village Academy and it has raised eyebrows because it will use instructional methods developed by L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology. In addition, some of the teachers are Scientologists.  However, Smith and his wife say they aren't Scientologists and the head of the academy says the school has no religious affiliation. The school is scheduled to open in September. In addition to reading and math, it will offer classes on yoga, robotics and etiquette.

He's OK. But there was a bit of a scare for Bobby Brown. He was in a car wreck in Tennessee last week. But he's fine. Authorities say Brown and the driver of the car he was in were both taken to a hospital, but neither had serious injuries and both were released. Brown is in Tennessee filming a Country Music Television series. He's in a show called "Outsider's Inn" with former "Brady Bunch" actress Maureen McCormick and pop singer Carnie Wilson.

He's gone from the velvet teddy bear to the honey-do list. Ruben Studdard is now a married man. The former "American Idol" tied the knot with Surata Zuri McCants this past Saturday at a church near Birmingham, Alabama, his hometown. And for someone with chops as a crooner, there was one surprise: he didn't sing. The only music during the ceremony was provided by a string ensemble. Studdard wore a black tuxedo with white bow tie, while his bride wore a white and ivory wedding gown. They will live in Alabama as Studdard gets ready to drop a new album later this year.

I told Shawn if our beloved Pastor Gallmon ever left Fellowship Missionary Baptist Church, I'd want to change memberships.  Don't get me wrong, I love Fellowship and the church has been a blessing to me and my family, but it's at least 20 miles one way from the house and the choir is just average most Sundays.  We really traveled all that way for the good preaching of Pastor Gallmon.  But now that he's gone, I'm ready to bounce. He left this past February when his father died suddenly and moved back to Florida to be near his momma.  Which anyone can understand--he's the oldest son--and feels the need to look after her in his father's absence.

I was sad to see him go, but excited about starting this new chapter in our lives. I was sure Shawn shared my desire to move to a new church home, some place closer, with a good group of folks that shared our Christian values.  Well, Shawn wasn't having it, said he wanted to stay at Fellowship until they found someone new--and then give that new pastor 90 days to figure out whether we were going to be there for the long haul.

Well, weeks, turned to months and months turned to more months and FINALLY the church leadership has appointed a new minister to lead us until they actually hire someone full time. The interim minister is older than Moses and knew Jesus personally.  Once we did some research on him, we realized he's old enough to be our grandfather's grandfather.  Instead of finding someone who was young and charasmatic like our  beloved Pastor Gallmon, they went and found us an old negro spiritual.  Shawn looked at me and said "Baby, this is one indicator that it's time to start looking..." Thus, inspiring this week's Top 10: TOP 10 Ways you know it's time to start looking for a new church home:

10.  When you'd rather go to the local Farmer's Market and look around for fresh lima beans than to go to church, you  might want to start worshiping elsewhere.  We've missed four Sundays in a row, and we ain't missed four Sundays of church in all our adult lives!  But we got fresh beans in the freezer!

9.  When you refer to the interim pastor as "The Rug Doctor" because he's 40 years older than the toupee he has on his head!  It looks like black AstroTurf it's so thick--while his side burns are whiter than Brooke Shields!  At least color the facial hair so it can match!

8.  When the usher stops holding your favorite seats.  We ain't been to church in so long, folks forgot we were still members. We got to church yesterday morning, and somebody was sitting where we've been sitting since we joined there four years ago!  I guess they figure "You move, you loose..."

7.  When the youth choir, young adult choir and senior choir all have the same members, then it's time to bounce!

6.  When the person reading the church announcements starts out with "OK, everybody, wake up. I have some important things to tell you about..." and you hear people yawning, it's time to start looking elsewhere.

5.  If you actually consider bringing a travel sized neck pillow to church, you might want to go someplace a little more lively.  Honestly, I've had the best naps in my adult life since Pastor Gallmon left our church.

4.  When the pastor says "Turn to your neighbor and say 'I love you...'" and you need a bullhorn to tell 'em, you might want to find out where everybody else went who was sitting in those empty seats!  Cause they obviously know something you don't: IT'S TIME TO GET TO STEPPIN'!

3.  If the interim pastor is older than Jesus, it's time for you to roll out.  We need somebody who was born A.D. and not B.C.! 

2.  When you spend half your tithe money to pay for gas just to get to church and back home, it's time to move.  We have a church right on our block that's almost completed (brand new facility--so they shouldn't start us off begging for the building fund)--wouldn't take but a few bucks to get there and back every Sunday. But to get to our church now is costing God too much money!  It's cutting into His stash!

1.  When you're in church with your husband and your 2 year old starts acting up--and you both start fighting to see who is going to be the one to take him out of church so you're not forced to sit there and listen to the sermon.  The argument takes a turn for the worse when you agree to play "rock, paper, scissor" to settle this dilemma!  Let's just say, Shawn was smart enough to pick paper, and I was dumb as a rock.  He and Andrew went across the street to the neighborhood park while I was forced to sit there and listen to Moses tell me all about the burning bush.

I am a child of hip hop!  I grew up on Sugar Hill Gang, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Run DMC, Curtis Blow, Jazzy Jeff and Fresh Prince--man all the kids who paved the way for artists to express themselves lyrically through the genre of rap.  I remember putting pen to paper cause I wanted to be fresh like MC Lyte and Queen Latifah and Moni Love--cause those sisters could spit a rhyme and make you feel empowered, strong and sexy all in the same verse!

Hip hop used to mean something.  It celebrated African heritage and honored black culture in America.  We wore the leather African medallions around our necks and A Tribe Called Quest taught us about what it meant to be part of the talented 10th.  They quoted authors in their lyrics like W.E.B. DuBois and George Washington Carver.  They weren't afraid to be black and proud--and once we saw it was alright to do that--neither were we.

It wasn't cool to be dumb in hip hop!  You had to know something, about your history and about your past--and artists like KRS 1 and Chuck D. told us where they were going in the future! 

Hip hop was inspiring and created a culture of awareness for a generation of kids longing for something to listen to other than their momma's Teddy Pendergrast albums and Betty Wright 8-Tracks.  But hip hop didn't stray too far away from blues and the sounds of R&B, cats like EPMD sampled Roger Troutman and Zapp along with borrowing a little funk from James Brown!  Even when the genre went gangster, Dr. Dre still paid homage to George Clinton and the P Funk Allstars! 

Hip hop said something, hip hop meant something, hip hop was something....

But I believe in my heart that the progressive culture of the movement of hip hop is dead.  Lil' Wayne and T Payne killed it last night on the BET Awards show.  Perhaps my beloved hip hop had been on life support all this time, and I was just too busy growing up and raising my family to see it.

I watched last night in horror at what was Lil' Wayne's performance on the awards program.  He rapped verse after verse about absolutely nothing.  What was he talking about? How much money he had, how many women he slept with, how many cars he drives--and he did it all in a white t-shirt and pants that were so big, he had to hold them up with one hand.  And to top it off, I really couldn't understand what the hell he was saying the whole time.  I tried putting the closed captioning up, hoping that someone would translate his lyrics for me--but all I got at the bottom of the screen was "????????????????????????????????????????"--even the damn captioner whose job it is to transcribe television language for deaf folks couldn't understand what the hell he was saying.

And the crowd went wild--folks were standing up and clapping and dancing! FOR WHAT? He looked like he had just got out of jail, like he hadn't brushed his teeth, was high and hadn't bathed in 90 days!  And he closed out the show.  He was the headliner!  I was astonished to find out Lil' Wayne sold 1 million albums in one week!  What the hell?????

Just before Lil' Wayne came out rapping about nothing--Jermaine Dupree came out and spit a verse during a performance with Nelly. Here he is, Jermaine Dupree, the founder of SoSo Def records and the pioneer of Atlanta's own version of hip hop music--a man who is 40+ years old--he is singing about his tennis shoes and how nobody better not step on his tennis shoes--and how he got the fliest tennis shoes that ain't even out in the stores yet!  WHAT THE HELL? At 40 years old, he ain't got nothing better to talk about than some damn tennis shoes!  And the crowd went WILD after his performance!

I was mortified. What happened to my beloved hip hop? The language and the culture that told me I could be anything I wanted to be? The lyrics that told me to fight the powers that be? Now, I'm concerned with tennis shoes and how many cars SOMEBODY else has!  Artists are fighting over who is the fliest and which performer is banging the latest R&B starlet instead of speaking to the movement of Barack Obama or the travesty of Don Imus!

The music that once put black women on a pedastal and called us "queens" now displays us in videos wearing bikinis and calls us bitches and hoes!  The best selling book by a black woman last year wasn't written by Sister Solja, it was penned by Kareen Stephans and talked about the glamorous life of being a video hoe!

Nobody is using the vehicle of hip hop to speak to the people anymore and empower a generation of teenagers to do more than just sit up and watch videos and play Wii!  It's all about "look at me" "look what I got" "I'm better than you". 

I watched the BET Awards and shook my head "no", except nobody was in the room asking me any questions.  Shawn damn near had tears in his eyes when he declared, "Baby, it's a new day. Hip hop as we know it is dead.  Nobody cares about the art anymore.  These boys just run out on stage, talk about anything, get a good marketing campaign behind them and people buy into what these advertisers are selling."

"Yeah," I told him, "they are talking fast and saying nothing.  While Lil' Wayne is selling a million records a week, a Grammy Award winning forward thinking group like The Roots can't break the gold record category."

RIP Hip Hop, we had a wonderful life together, you are long gone from us now, but I will cherish the memory of Tupac, Jazzy Jeff & Fresh Prince, Ice T, Dr. Dre, KRS 1, BDP, Queen Latifah, Moni Love, Tribe Called Quest, Dig-able Planets, Leaders of the New School, Eric B and Rakim, and all those great pioneers who used the microphone as a weapon to tear down racism and stereotypes--and then used that same microphone to build up a generation of young black teens!

They say James Brown was the hardest working man in Show business before he died; well I’ve found the hardest working group of folk in the Twin Cities: meter maids! 

I paid more last month in parking meter fine violations than I spent on my car note and insurance combined.

I have more parking tickets than I know what to do with.  I didn’t even cash my payroll check this week from the Spokesman Recorder, I just signed the back of it, made it payable to the City of Minneapolis, and mailed it in. 

And I understand they are just doing their job, but some of ‘em are a tad overzealous.  I think they hide behind concrete pillarsand watch while you pretend to put quarters in the meter (when you’re actually inserting Canadian nickels).  Then when you dart off to pick up dry cleaning or pay for take-out lunch, they swoop in, fine in hand, and put that damn ticket on your windshield.  Now, if I didn’t have 50-cent to pay for parking, how in the hell am I going to afford a $35 parking fine?

And it ain’t always that I ran out time in my met—the last ticket I got was because my license tags had expired.  When I came out of the beauty salon in downtown Minneapolis two weeks ago, I saw the lady sticking a ticket on my windshield.  I was livid when I looked at my watch and realized that I still had four minutes to spare.  “Hey Ms. Lady,” I yelled out, “you shouldn’t be giving me a ticket.  By my calculations, I’m still on my last quarter.”

“That may be true,” she yelled back, “but your license tag expired last month, and that’s a $75 fine!”

Again, back to my point: if I had $75, I could get my tags renewed!

Are these people working on commission or something? Do they get an extra five dollars in their pay check for every ticket they write? Because if that’s the case, I sent a few of ‘em into a new tax bracket last month with all the fines I paid!

And with summer being peak construction season, things are getting pretty hairy.  Roads that normally have meters are red-flagged for “No Parking”, secret alleyways where you used to be able to park are now blocked off ‘cause they’re fixing potholes! 

And the meter maids are walking around, in the heat, looking for violators.  Now that takes dedication and a very strong work ethic.  Because if it were me, I would be sitting in Starbucks drinking a cup of ice coffee until my shift was over and it was time for me to clock out.  My boss would ask, “Brundidge, you couldn’t find any violators on 11^th and Hennepin today?” I’d tell him, “No sir boss, everyone was in compliance.  There was a little angel with quarters in her wings and every time someone’s meter would run out, she’d bless ‘em with 15 more minutes.  It was amazing.  I guess prayer really does change things.”

‘Cause I be praying y’all. While I’m downtown getting my hair done—that the meter maid assigned to my area is break. Or her baby’s daddy’s got sick on the job and she had to go pick him up.  But my prayers are bouncing off the beauty shop walls, cause the ones on my block are on every corner, around every turn, standing on the sidewalk, crossing the street—they are more visible than police officers in downtown Minneapolis.  I wish someone would give them a badge and a gun so that I can feel safe from the crackheads that call downtown “home”.

Prosecutors want him in jail. But lawyers for Wesley Snipes are trying to get a judge to let the actor leave the country. Snipes is currently free, as he appeals his three federal tax convictions. His lawyers say Snipes wants to do work on two movies, one being filmed in London and the other in Bangkok, Thailand. No word on whether the judge will let Snipes travel out of the U.S. Prosecutors say they believed Snipes posed a flight risk and had been deceptive about his finances.

More legal trouble for the plastic surgeon who operated on Kanye West's mother. Dr. Jan Adams has been arrested on suspicion of drunken driving. Police in California also say he was driving on a license that had been suspended from a previous DUI. Authorities say Adams was using an off-ramp to get on a freeway early yesterday when he was busted. Adams had operated on Donda West the day before she died. An autopsy said the rapper's mother likely died of heart disease coupled with complications from the surgery. The state of California was already investigating whether Adams' medical license should be revoked or suspended because of two previous alcohol-related arrests. 

Stevie Wonder says after his mother died in May, 2006, he made up his mind that he wasn't going to tour for a while.  But he says he changed his mind because of his mother. He says he got a "message" from her that he should "go and spread the message" to celebrate some of the things people have been able to accomplish over the years, like the end of apartheid. One of the things he hopes to be able to celebrate soon is the election of Barack Obama as president. Wonder says he always believed the U.S. would have an African-American president. He says he's always felt that eventually there will be a Latino president, an Asian president and a Jewish president.

Y'all know I love to talk. Hell a writer and nothing but a talker who got something to say and nobody to listen to 'em, that's why I write this blog every day. I'm sitting my fat ass up here with loads of $hit to talk about and ain't a soul over the age of 3 to listen to me.  I got jokes that I can't tell an audience cause I'm sitting on the floor in the play room all day trying to explain to my son that a fire truck is not blue and grass is not yellow!  And that his name is spelled A-N-D-R-E-W not A-WWWWWW!

So when Shawn gets home, he's really tired every day. I on the other hand am elated that I have somebody over 2 feet tall that I can chat with. And chat I do...

Child I be talking about everything from our neighbor's yard to the state of the union--to trying to figure out where Michelle Obama buys her clothes so I can get me one of those dresses that she wears that doesn't show the world just how fat your stomach is.

Shawn looks at me like "Baby hush..." but he won't say anything. He just looks aimlessly at me and tries to nod when it's appropriate and shake his head "no" when it's needed.

My husband don't talk much, probably cause I don't give him a chance. I wake up talking and go to bed with a thought on my mind. And Andrew is the same way--he wakes up er're morning wanting to talk about something that is on his little baby mind and won't rest until he gets it off his chest.

So for the next 20 years or so, Shawn will probably be laying on a couch somewhere having to pay somebody to listen to him--cause we're talking too much at home for him to get a word in edgewise!

The other day, we were headed to downtown Minneapolis on I-94 west from our home in east St. Paul.  The music was on and I was blah blah blah-ing.  Shawn just sat there looking straight ahead not saying a word. I finally stopped talking long enough to notice the look on his face.  My poor husband looked like somebody had drained all the life out of him.  He had a blank stare on his face and looked trapped--like a deer in headlights.

I asked him kindly, "Baby, what's wrong?"

"Oh nothing," he assured me, "just taking a moment."

"A moment to do what?" I wanted to know.

"To just enjoy the silence."

"Are you saying I talk too much?"

"I didn't say that, you did." he smarted off, "You think because things are quiet, there is a problem.  You have an issue with silence, I don't have a problem with silence. I welcome it."

"Well," I told him, "I'll just be quiet, won't say  nothing else the rest of trip. Don't ask me any questions, because I won't answer them and don't talk to me, because I won't respond.  Obviously the sound of my voice irritates you!" I went on and on and on for about five minutes.  Until Shawn looked at me and asked "So, please tell me when the silence will begin so I can shout Hallelujah!  I've been waiting on that moment since the day I said 'I do!'."

It's said you can find out a lot about a person by checking out what he has on his iPod, assuming the person has one. So what can you learn about Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama based on what he listens to? We'll leave it up to you to decide -- but here's a sampling of what's on his iPod. He tells Rolling Stone magazine that his music collection includes everything from Jay-Z to Bob Dylan to classical cellist Yo-Yo Ma to pop star Sheryl Crow and rock star Bruce Springsteen. As he himself put it: "I have pretty eclectic tastes." Obama says as a child of the '70s, he listened to everyone from Stevie Wonder to Earth Wind and Fire to the Rolling Stones and Elton John. Some of his musical heroes see Obama as their political hero. Wonder, Dylan and Springsteen have all expressed support for his campaign.

Guess you could say The Time hasn't gotten together all this time because they didn't have the time. At least that's why they say it's been so long since they've performed together. But now Morris Day says "the stars are in alignment" and that means they are able to perform together once again. While it was time that let them get back on stage again, it was timing that had to be re-developed to keep them there. Keyboard player Jimmy Jam says performing live with the group again was hard, in part because he had spent so much time in the Flyte Time studios over the years. He says that left him "a little rusty" and that in order to get in step with the rest of the band, he had to "raise my level to their level."

A jazz singer who used to perform with the likes of Quincy Jones and Ray Charles is now singing the blues over her financial situation. Ernestine Anderson is facing foreclosure on her home in Seattle. Public records show she is more than $30,000 behind on her mortgage, including penalties for falling behind.  Friends and family have launched a last-ditch effort to save her home by pleading for donations. They hope to come up with $45,000 to get her caught up and then find a way to help her to sustain herself. Anderson is 79 and gets about $1,000 a month from Social Security.  Now, that's a damn shame!!!!

Humble. Gracious. Kanye West? Those are words you don't usually hear in the same sentence. But that was the case, sort of, during last night BET Awards in Los Angeles. Kanye won two awards: best male hip-hop artist and best collaboration for "Good Life," with T-Pain. Usually, West uses such occasions to glorify himself, but last night, he spread some of the love around. He praised T-Pain, calling him "a genius." And West said that people should be "blessed" to be in his fellow artist's presence. It was at that point that he slipped back into his more familiar persona, adding: "I'll let y'all know because I'm one of the kings of this game. My opinion counts." West also gave props to Lil Wayne when he won the BET Award for best male hip-hop artist. West called him his "fiercest competition" and even congratulated him for selling one million copies of his new album, "Tha Carter III."

Shaquille O'Neal will lose his special deputy's badge in Maricopa County. The sheriff says he isn't crazy about the NBA star's use of a racially derogatory word and other foul language in a rap at a club recently. The clip, which was posted online, ripped former teammate Kobe Bryant. Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio says if any of his deputies were to use that kind of language, they'd be fired, so he's taking Shaq's ceremonial badges.

Ruben Studdard is about to get hitched. His people have confirmed to The Associated Press that he will be married Saturday. He and his bride-to-be Surata Zuri McCants took out a marriage license on Monday, according to court records in Birmingham, Alabama. Studdard was the winner of "American Idol" in 2003. He has released three albums since and is working on a new one now.

Who is still smoking weed? Better yet, who is still SELLING weed? Going out to buy marijuana must be like looking for a damn dinosaur.  All the drug dealers now adays are selling meth or crack--ain't nobody pushing weed on the corner no more.  Pot is so 1980s!

I was stunned to find out one of my girlfriends is still smoking marijuana!  At 36 damn years old.  I'm like "Girlfriend, say it ain't so...."  But alas, it is!  Weed ain't no 30 year old drug of choice.  Hell, weed is something you do when you get to college, you think it helps you study better, so you try it--and it's awesome!  So you have "weed parties" with your friends in your college dorm room--stinking up the entire 11th floor of the "Plaza" at University of Houston until someone snitches on you (probably because you didn't invite them to the festivities).  But, your junior year of college, when you turn 25 and realize life is passing you by, you throw out the blunt and pick up the books to try and graduate before your trifling ass turns 30!

Weed should not be smoked by any adult over the age of 30! That's just fundamentally wrong.

At 30, your grown ass should have kicked the habit and moved on with your life. Either stop doing drugs altogether, or find a more respectable drug of choice, something ADULTS get high on like meth or prescription medication. I have more respect for a 40 year old lawyer hooked on Vicadan than I do a 40 year old lawyer who still smokes weed from his college days and hasn't been able to put the joint down!

And old weed smokers are so out of line. They still have the "old school" roach clips and still using the zig-zag papers--when the younger kids are rolling "Philly Blunts" and have all kinds of gadgets and contrapments to use as a "peace pipe" to get high!  The old school weed smokers are still burning their damn fingers trying to puff on those little itty bitty joints... just won't up their Weed IQ--stuck on stupid!

The funny thing about it is that my girlfriend doesn't think she smells like weed. I'm like "Child, you smoke the $hit, it's in your hair, it's in your clothes, hell it's in your skin.  You walk by and people smell it."  Then she gets all paranoid and starts sniffing her clothes like "You think so? Can you smell it? I mean, I can't!"

Well, of course you can't, you've been sitting in a cloud of thick heavy smoke all damn day!

Weed is the only drug that will tell it on you--folks know you're smoking before you open your mouth--because they can smell you coming a mile away.  But your crazy a$$ is so high, you've sprayed perfume and body wash on top of 2 hours of smoke--and think that's gonna make it disappear.  It ain't!!!

Her baby's daddy and boyfriend of three years keeps telling her "Honey, please stop smoking, put the joint down." And she promises to quit--and she does--only for a while--but then, it's back on and popping again!  She's usually back on the hoarse by the weekend. Something 'bout the weekend, weed heads gotta have their "medicine".

They should create a patch for weed heads, like the Nicotine patch--to help kick the craving--that way the rest of us don't have to worry about smelling their stinky a$$es and getting high off the second hand contact!

Once again, Don Imus is defending himself about racial comments made on the air. He was on the air discussing with sportscaster Warner Wolf a decision by Adam Jones to stop being called by his nickname Pacman. After Wolf mentioned Jones' arrest record, Imus asked: "What color is he?" Wolf said Jones was African-American and Imus responded: "There you go. Now we know." Imus claims his comments are being misunderstood. In a statement released by his spokesman, he says he meant to say Jones "was being picked on because he's black." Civil rights leader Al Sharpton says he finds the comments "disturbing" because they seem to play to stereotypes. Imus returned to the airwaves six months ago, after being fired from MSNBC and CBS Radio for calling members of the Rutgers University women's basketball team "nappy-headed hos." His current bosses say Imus will explain his remarks this morning and that it's unlikely they'll take disciplinary action. 

He has hits of his own. But it's T-Pain's work with others that has him holding the most nominations going into tonight's BET Awards in Los Angeles. He has five nods, three of them for work on songs with other artists and two for videos.  He's up for teaming with Chris Brown on "Kiss Kiss," Kanye West on "Good Life" and Flo Rida on "Low." T-Pain also has two nominations in the video-of-the-year category. Two artists -- Kanye West and Keyshia Cole -- have three nominations each, while Mary J. Blige, Alicia Keys and newcomer Flo Rida each have two. Al Green will be honored with a lifetime achievement award and Quincy Jones will get one for his humanitarian work.

Stop me if you've heard this one before. DMX is having a legal problem. The rapper was picked up yesterday afternoon in Miami on an arrest warrant for having no valid driver's license. He was taken into custody with bond set at $500. It's the latest in an ongoing series of scrapes with the law. Last month in Arizona, he pleaded not guilty to felony drug possession and misdemeanor animal cruelty charges.

So last night, Shawn and I are up late, watching a college basketball skills competition and we see a scroll on the bottom of the ticker on ESPN that says something about Shaq at a club rapping and dissing Kobe Bryant.  Now, I remember when Shaq made that horrible album with the Fushnikins back in the 1990s!  They had that big old negro jumping around and spitting out lyrics that nobody could understand.  But Shaq was young and wanted to fulfill his dreams of becoming a rapper.  Fast forward 20 years, that negro is still talking loud and saying nothing.

We hit up youtube.com and found this God-awful video!  I don't know what's worse, Shaq's lyrical skills as a rapper or the fact that he repeatedly asks Kobe in his (ill attempt at a) dis-song "Hey Kobe, how does my a$$ taste?" 

I'm guessing Shaq is upset that Kobe made it to the finals and now feels like he needs to take the stage and a mic (murdering a hit in the process) and get a few things off his chest...

Come on Shaq, bruh, you're damn near 40 years old, it's time to start acting like it. You've got kids and a (ex) wife--you're somebody's daddy!  You can't be jumping around on stage in a juke joint (cause that clearly wasn't an upscale club--when you got as much money as Shaq has--you shouldn't be in the corner bar singing on that shoe box of a stage)! Plus that, earth to Shaq: Bruh, you CAN'T RAP!

And the saddest part in all this, I believe that's Spud Webb as his sidekick on background vocals!

This was a hard winter in Minnesota--we had days, then weeks, then months of sub zero temperatures!  That means I can't go out the damn house--without running the risk of turning into a damn chocolate Popsicle!

And it's been really hard cause that means I'm closed up in the house with a damn one year old child who is dying to get out.  Andrew loves outside and being free to run and roam at his own choosing.  But that has been hard to do with two feet of snow covering our yard.  The most we did this year was go sledding up a snow hill. 

Y'all know me, I'm a damn germ phobe and hypochondriac--so we ain't been to our little "baby classes" once a week--cause the last two times we did go, in January, Andrew got sick both times. Then two kids died from the flu--so our asses have been held up in the house hibernating.  And Andrew was going crazy--that little joker was climbing the walls.  And I was climbing them right behind him. 

I figured though since the snow started melting a little bit, and the flu season almost to a close, we would be safe going to the Children's Museum in downtown St. Paul.  It was a quick decision, and I was at home with my head scarf on, some jogging pants and a sweat shirt--but everything matched--I mean I wasn't sloppy. It was a little cotton jogging suit from Lady Footlocker. I had a red tank top underneath and my head scarf was red too.

I put Andrew on a comfy jogging suit and we jumped in the car and headed to downtown St. Paul.  My webmaster Justin and his wife Susie had gotten Andrew a gift card for Christmas, so headed for our free afternoon of fun.

Once we got there, we realized that the museum closed at 5 o'clock and it was 'bout 2:30--but that's cool--cause we weren't planning to spend the entire day there. Just a few hours of fun to take the edge off.  Wellllll, I get in line and other stay-at-home moms were there just like me, with their little ones--looking for a fun place to play.  They were all dressed pretty casual, just like me.  Sweat pants--loose fitting jeans--hoodies!  Nobody was dressed up like Princess Dianna or anything like that!

So I'm in line, edging my way to the front.  And when I got to the cashier, she looked at me like I had just left the food stamp office.  I handed her my gift card and told her I'd like to use it for my admission along with my son's ticket.  And girlfriend treated me like I was a single momma from the projects.

Cashier: "Ma'am, the museum closes in an hour and a half.  You'll be paying $7 a piece for less than two hours."
Me: "That's fine. We weren't going to stay that long anyway."
Cashier: "So that's 14-bucks. Is that going to be alright with you?"
I'm looking at this heffa wondering why is she treating me like I can't afford $14 (at the time I only had $12 in my account, but she had no way of knowing that, so I said) Me: "OK, I'd like to use this gift card."
Cashier: "Oh yes, I remember writing this gift card." she took it and looked at it, "You get a few bucks back in cash. I'm sure you can use it."
At this point, I wanted to slap the hell out of her for talking down to me, but handcuffs wouldn't be a good look for me, so I tried to keep my cool and not blow my son's fun afternoon. 

At this point, she leans into me and (says) Cashier: "You know, we have discounts for low income families."

All the other moms look at me like I'm trailer trash or something.  I start sniffing around to make sure I didn't stink--I couldn't figure out why this chick was taking her own life in her hands by disrespecting me!

But I couldn't pass up a good discount so I asked, Me:  "So how much is the fee for low income families?"
Cashier: "It's 20-percent off!"

So I was pissed, but I took the discount!

Andrew and I went upstairs in one of the play rooms and were sliding and climbing on the rocks and dancing along to Sesame Street tunes when one of the moms in line behind me said "Oh, she was so disrespectful. I saw what she did!  You should report her."

"Oh no," I explained, "I got a great discount for being a low income momma."

"Really?" she asked, "How much?"

When I told her, girlfriend came back with "From now on, I'm gonna be low income too. You got another one of those head-rags I can borrow?

I hate those huge Super stores... and they got 'em everywhere. Target has 'em, they call 'em Great Target stores. Then you have the ever present Super Walmart stores--where you can buy everything from baby clothes to a damn baby. Walmart will sell you just about anything! I was looking for the line where I could buy marijuana--cause they had everything else I needed in the store.

And don't get me wrong, I love the fact that I don't have to go to the grocery store for eggs and bacon, then another store for trash bags and dish washing liquid--but these Super duper stores have their drawback and I got ten of 'em.  They've inspired this week's top 10 (Keith, sorry I'm late, we're potty training over here): Top 10 things that piss me off about these alleged Super stores:

10.  Why would you have 50 check out lines at a grocery store and only staff three employees to actually ring up customers?  So you're standing there with your items at lane "50" and the light is off, you look up and way down in the distance, at lane "3" you see a faint light.  You go the half mile down there only to find out that the cashier is in training and the light is blinking. You look up and there are only two more lanes open, lines "2" and "1" and they both got at least 10 customers in 'em.  Now mind you, the store is littered with employees wearing the blue vests who could work the register to get customers out of there in a timely manner, but NONE of 'em passed the security screening that allows them to be around more than $50 in cash!

9.  And speaking of employees, all of 'em have GOT to be developmentally challenged.  They are two pills short of being able to receive a disability check from the government for being crazy as hell!  They see customers walking around the store for hours, looking lost, dehydrated and confused--but instead of helping--they're huddled up chatting about what they are going to eat during their lunch break!  And God forbid you actually "request" help, if they even see you approaching they scatter like roaches when the lights come on.  You gotta chase 'em down and rope 'em like a calf at the Livestock Show and Rodeo to get your question answered.

8.  After walking around aimlessly for hours, I got tired and hungry!  I saw a few folks chewing on something--one lady pointed me in the direction of what looked like a cafeteria.  It was a walk up short order joint!  I would have been happy to get a dog on a stick at this point--I was shaking like a crack head in rehab I was so hungry!  I was bout to order until the nastiest, dirtiest, greasiest looking guy with a hair net on his head and dirt under his fingernails asked me what I wanted to eat.  I had to stop myself from throwing up in my own mouth at the smell of his breaf!

7.  You need a shuttle bus to get from the parking lot to the front door.  If I wanted to walk long distances, I'd go to the gym and work out.  The reason I'm still in maternity clothes is because I like getting out of my car and walking right up the front door! I don't want to have to walk a country mile to get to the front door. By the time my fat ass made it to the front, I had to sit down and take a load off. I needed a hit of oxygen and someone to rub the cramp out of my left leg.

6.  Now, I'm all about getting coupons when I'm shopping. But these "Super Stores" have scavenger hunt coupons.  In a regular grocery store, you buy a loaf of bread and if the bread has a coupon on it, it's for the bread. Or if you're buying some cookies and there is a discount coupon on the cookies, it's actually FOR THE DAMN COOKIES YOU ARE BUYING! But not at these super stores--I bought coffee, there is a coupon on the coffee for foil! Now, cookies and foil don't go together--but hell, I figure if I can save $1, I might as well pick up some  foil.  I get the foil and there is a coupon on the foil for $2 off a case of toilet paper.  You can never have too much toilet paper, so I take my crazy a$$ to the toilet paper aisle and get toilet paper.  When I get there, of course, I find the coupon for the damn coffee! 

5.  There ain't no cell phone reception in those stores. It's like you've gone into an army bunker or something.  You got zero bars! You can't even send out a text message.  I tried calling my husband to figure out how to get the hell out of the store, but I couldn't reach him. It turned into a phone call of "Can you hear me now?" "Hello?" "Hello, can you hear me?"

4.  They don't take checks, but they don't tell you that. They let you write the check, they put it in the register and you think "Damn, I can't believe that check for $80 worth of groceries went through and I only have $4 in the bank!"  Wait, not so fast.  They hand you the check back.  "Oh, we don't take checks. We just debit it out of your account." And your check operates as your receipt.  Hell, if I actually HAD THE MONEY, I wouldn't need to write the check.  Come on people...

3.  In a store that big, you'd think they'd have some grazing food. You know, the little old ladies who have samples on every end aisle. Like they do in Sam's Wholesale store on Saturday mornings. You can go in there and get full, come home, take a nap and not buy anything.  But at these superstores, they don't even pass out free food. I'm peeking around every corner, looking for meatballs or hot wings--NOTHING!  I got so mad, I opened a Twix and ate it.  They owed me that!

2. The lay out of the store is so confusing you need a damn tour guide to go in there and get the items you want. And there ain't no running in and out really quickly!  It's a maze. Today, I just wanted trash bags--I was in there 45-minutes before I just gave up and got the hell out of there.  We'll just start recycling trash bags at home. That'll be our first step to becoming an eco-friendly family!  They need to hang out maps when you walk in so you can actually find what the hell you're looking for while you're in there.

1.  They're larger than a major league baseball field!  You walk in and you can't even see the back of the store--if there is a back--they keep going and going and going and going!    I used a damn old folks scooter to get around today in there. I got tired of walking.  My step-meter said I had gone two miles--and I wasn't even half way through the store yet. 

It's considered a setback for lawyers representing O.J. Simpson in his armed robbery case in Las Vegas.  The trial judge has rejected a request to ask prospective jurors in the case about what they know and think about the former football star. Clark County District Court Judge Jackie Glass also rejected the lawyers' request to use a lengthy pretrial questionnaire to see how those in the jury pool might respond to defense strategies.  Simpson and two co-defendants face kidnapping and other charges in the robbing of sports memorabilia dealers in a Vegas hotel room last fall. Simpson has said he was retrieving items that were his in the first place. Defense attorneys are concerned about jurors who are aware of Simpson's past both as a former NFL star and the acquitted defendant in the knife slayings of his ex-wife and her friend.

The comedian who brought us both the seven words you can't say on TV and the Hippy-Dippy Weatherman has died. George Carlin was 71. His publicist says he died in a Los Angeles-area hospital yesterday after being admitted for chest pains. Carlin was a keen observer of the American scene, pointing out hypocrisy in everything from language to religion to politics.  He and Richard Pryor were contemporaries. Carlin's death comes just days after receiving a major honor. He was named to be this year's recipient of the Mark Twain award for comedy, an honor that was to be given him this fall in Washington D.C.

It happened more than two years ago. But now it appears someone might be brought to justice in the shooting of an assistant to T.I. Police in Cincinnati have charged two brothers in the murder of Philant Johnson. Hosea Thomas and his older brother, Pardon Thomas, are charged in Johnson's death and the wounding of three others in the rapper's entourage. T.I. was in Cincinnati on May 3rd, 2006 for a performance. A detective says the gunfire broke out when the Thomas brothers tried to get into the rapper's VIP area at an after-hours club.  T.I. himself pleaded guilty in March to federal weapons charges.  He has been sentenced in Atlanta to a year in prison, three years of supervised home detention, 1,500 hours of community service and a $100,000 fine.

It's not often that Shawn and I get to go out. I am usually at home with Andrew while he hangs out at the bar, wishing he were still single again! 

But last night, we had a baby sitter, the pretty gal Courtney, who does nails at the beauty salon that I go to. She agreed to keep Andrew while Shawn and I went to Minneapolis to check out Musiq Soul Child in concert. It was an invitation only event, couldn't buy tickets anywhere, so we didn't want to miss out on this once and a lifetime opportunity.

Since it's been so long since I've gone out, I wanted to be sexy, so I went to the beauty shop and got my hair did like Halle Berry back in Boomerang days (the movie she starred in opposite Eddie Murphy and Robin Givens).  I jetted over to get my eyebrows arched and was too cute for my own good!

When we started getting dressed to leave, I noticed that my clothes were a little snug.  So I had to go downstairs and find a sundress that was free flowing and allowed "room for error".  It wasn't a maternity outfit, but it was one of those "I just had a baby" transition dresses.  Except I didn't think I'd ever have to put it on again, seeing as how my "baby" is now a "toddler" and I should be back to my pre-birth, not pre-delivery weight!

So I had on the dress and I was walking around looking for my shoes when Shawn noticed that I had an awful pantie line.  Well, I was sporting my granny panties. You know, the comfortable cotton ones that go from your knees to your neck. The damn things could double as a turtle neck sweater in the winter time they are so big!  But you can't beat the granny pantie for comfort! 

Shawn asked, "Baby, do you still have any thongs that you can fit?"

I ain't wanna tell him that I hadn't bought a thong since I was a size "medium" and that was many, many, many moons (and donuts) ago!

Well, I went upstairs to  my pantie drawer and low-and-behold, I found a thong in a size large. It was as if God had planted it there!  I replaced my old faithfuls and we hit the town...

But something wasn't right!!

During the concert, I stood up to dance while they performed one of my favorite songs, and the thong, it ran away from me. The damn thing tapped me on the back, submitted it's letter of resignation and "rolled" off the job.  The  note read, "Hey fat girl. You're stretching me too thin.  I'm doing more work than required of me in my initial contract and I refused to be treated this way. You're putting more on me than I can handle, so I tender my resignation effective immediately."

I tried negotiating with the damn thing, but the thong decided it was best to part ways.  I asked for at least a four hour notice--but the thong denied my request.

So here I am, all night long, pulling and tugging and trying to locate the panties that I KNOW I put on before I left home. But the thong was no where to be found. Every now and again, I'd feel it roll down and get caught between a layer or two of stomach fat, but it quickly disappeared. Almost like it evaporated into my skin or something...

Shawn looked over at me and asked "What's wrong? Why are you tugging at your dress?"

"It's not the dress," I assured him, "it's the damn thong I put on.  It keeps rolling down and getting stuck in a fat roll somewhere. Problem is, I can't figure out which one without digging in there and trying to find it."

Shawn giggled, "Your thong got hydraulics, it's hitting switches on you. It's rolling like a low-rider car in East L.A.!"

We both busted out laughing when I told him, "I'm just gonna change my name to David Blaine. I'm a freaking magician!  I can make a thong disappear."

Nothing but net. That's the approach Wu-Tang Clan is taking toward getting its music to the public. The group is one of the latest to launch a Web site to promote their two great loves: music and chess. RZA has teamed up with Chesspark.com to launch the site WuChess.com -- where hip-hop and chess merge. For serious players, there's the chance to win money playing "hardcore chess" in tournaments, or you can just play for fun. It costs about $50 to join, but most of the proceeds from the membership fees to help the Hip-Hop Chess Federation's scholarship fund.

A makeover for Martin Luther King? At least it's a makeover for the memorial being built to honor the slain civil rights leader. Artists working on the memorial have turned in changes to address concerns that the statue made King look too confrontational and too much like a socialist leader. The changes were asked for by the U.S. Commission of Fine Arts, a federal panel in charge of memorials and monuments on the National Mall. The project's main architect says designers made King's face appear softer and changed his face so it would resemble the hint of a smile. The King memorial would be the first major tribute to him outside Atlanta, the city where he was born. It's to be built on the banks of the Tidal Basin, between the Jefferson and Lincoln Memorials. Organizers say they hope to complete the memorial by spring of 2010.

Paul Pierce says he hasn't slept since he and the Boston Celtics won the NBA title. And why should he -- he's living his dream. He told those attending the team's victory parade that he was tired of watching other NBA teams have their celebrations on TV -- now he says he, his teammates and fans "get to enjoy our own." He held on tightly to the MVP trophy he won after clinching the title over the Los Angeles Lakers in Tuesday's Game 6, giving the Celtics their first title in 22 years.

Have y'all seen the movie "Pride"?  Starring Terrance Howard and Dianna Ross' son Evan Ross?  I think even Bernie Mac is up in there as a janitor or something.  It came out last year sometime on the big screen, but of course, in order to view movies, we gotta wait until they come out on DVD--cause we don't Andrew spoiling anyone's movie going experience.

Now, we'll take Drew to a kid movie (although we don't do much movie or TV, he thinks the TV is for watching news and basketball), but not a grown folks flick, even if it's rated PG.  Because I remember being single and folks would drag their chil'len in the movie theater and the kids would start talking or hollering--messing it up for er'rebody!  Once, right in the middle of New Jack City, a woman on my row had a baby, had to be bout 6 months old, started yelling to the top of her pretty little lungs. I'm talking, right at the part where (sweet) Ice Tee was kicking Wesley Snipes in the ass and getting some revenge for the entire community.  This momma whips out her breast and starts letting the little one get her "lunch" on!  What the hell?  I was outraged, but at the same time I was glad that I was able to actually hear the movie again.

I always vowed that I'd never do that with my baby. If I couldn't find a sitter, then I'd stay at home.  Needless to say, since I'm so particular about who I let keep my kid, we do a lot of staying at home to watch movies!

And even at home, we gotta wait until he goes to sleep, otherwise, he'll disturb our a$$es while we're trying to check out a flick (not really a "flick"--we put those in the basement, but you know what I'm talking bout).

So the other night, there is no basketball on television, we don't do reality TV and the news ain't on yet. Andrew is asleep and Shawn suggests putting in Pride.  So we pop the DVD in and hit play.  I'm watching it and it's about some inner city kids who hang out in the pool and learn how to swim and stay out of trouble.  In the end, they win a state wide tournament and take home a first place trophy.  It's a real nice touching story--but if you ask me it's just Remember the Titans and Coach Carter in a swimming pool. 

But during the movie, there is a scene, where the kids hold a tournament at their recreation center, but all the other swim teams, which are white, refused to show up and compete.  Well, after months of hard work and preparation, the kids are disappointed and so is their coach, played by Terrance Howard.  There is a group of community members and fans there waiting on a tournament to begin--but Terrance Howard has to go over there and break the news to them and tell them that the white folks won't swim in a black pool.

Childddddddddd, before Terrance Howard can walk over there, the kids get up one-by-one and yell "This is our house coach." before diving in the pool.  Instead of a competition, these kids turn it into a personal swimming display--they each show off their skills before an awe struck crowd.

In the movie, Terrance is so overwhelmed that he starts crying and the tears are meeting under his chin. Now I know we got surround sound, but I hear more sniffling behind me.  I look up, and it ain't the speakers, it's my husband!  I'm like "Shawn, what is wrong with you? Your allergies acting up or something? Oh, I know, you're still depressed about saying 'I Do', but don't worry, in 30 years, you'll get used to it."

He couldn't even muster up a word, he just pointed at the television he was crying so hard.

"You crying over this movie?" I asked him, "Please tell me you are not crying about this movie!"

I must have teased him all night and yelled out "This is our house coach!" I said it so much, I had Andrew saying it too!

Well, long story short, our friends Jason and Madria came by for dinner a day or two after we watched the movie, and we had the case sitting out on the couch.  Jason picks it up and says "Hey man, did y'all watch this movie? It's a great film."

Shawn was like "Yeah man, I enjoyed it."

Then Jason confesses, "I cried at the part when the white people wouldn't compete with the kids. Man when they all got up and swam anyway.  I couldn't help  myself."

Needless to say, Shawn got him a new best friend.  Dare I even say "soul mate"?

 

Tiger Woods' win at the U.S. Open was impressive enough. But now that we know what condition he was in when he won the tournament, the victory takes on epic proportions. Woods has revealed that he has been playing for at least the past 10 months with a torn ligament in his left knee. And if that wasn't enough, he also has a pair of stress fractures in his left leg, suffered just two weeks before he played in the Open. While Woods was able to gut out the tournament, he won't be doing anything else this season. He says he will take the rest of the year off, to have reconstructive surgery on his knee and give the rest of his body time to recover and heal. In a statement on his Web site, Woods said he realizes "the right thing to do" is to obey his doctors, have the operation and rehabilitate his knee. Of course, he wasn't following that advice when he played in the U.S. Open, which went to a fifth-round playoff, plus an extra sudden death hole.

Some legal issues for Young Jeezy. The rapper has been charged with driving under the influence and speeding. Police in Atlanta pulled him over as he drove his Corvette along a highway early yesterday morning. Authorities didn't disclose how fast Jeezy was traveling, but they say the police officer who arrested him noticed his car didn't have a license. He is charged with speeding, driving without proof of insurance or license plate, having an open container, reckless driving and driving impaired by alcohol or drugs. He was released on bond and is to appear in court on July 17th. His attorney in a news release says Jeezy was arrested after leaving a recording studio -- and that he looks forward to getting the matter resolved in court.

Jennifer Hudson says she didn't realize how long it took to make an album until she started recording one. The star of Dreamgirls is in the process of turning out her debut album -- but she says it's taken longer than she ever imagined. She says she feels like she has already "recorded a million songs." Then, there's the work of paring down the number of tracks until she has the right songs. Hudson says it got to the point that she had to check with other singers to see if it took that long to do an album. She says she asked Alicia Keys, and Keys told her it took her "at least a year" to do her projects, so Hudson doesn't feel so bad about it now.

I was on the phone with one of my friends the other day who was crying about their spouse--how their better half had turned into their worst nightmare!  Marriages go sour--and it's not to say that either one of 'em ain't try--but sometimes things just ain't meant to be.

I always encourage folks to stay together--unless there are a$$ whoppings involved--then I encourage folks to start shooting and ask questions later!  But if and when my friends come to me and say "I wanna leave my husband!" 10 times out of 10, I'm like "Girl, let's work this out.  What can you do differently? Can y'all go to counseling?  What about those kids?"

Now, I've had some friends get divorced, and I don't mind helping 'em pack up and get the hell out of dodge--but my preference is that they stay and work it out. 'Cause that's what I'd want somebody to advise my husband to do.  And I'm sure he's calling his friends on a bi-weekly basis crying and asking "Can't I leave her country a$$?  She ain't even got a job--she ain't as pretty as she used to be and she's twice the woman now than when I met her." And to his defense, I've tripled my size--but he married me for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, for thinner or for fatter!  The thinner and fatter were in there, they were just silent during the ceremony, it was kinda "understood"!

But this week, I went into crisis mode when one of my friends called and said someone was "pursuing" them at the office. Making some serious advances that they were having a hard time brushing off. They kinda enjoyed it--and wanted more of it.  I had to put the brakes on that conversation and tell my good friend they were way out of line!

My friend asked me, "Oh, so you telling me that you ain't never thought about cheating on Shawn? The thought never crossed your mind?"

"Hell no!" I emphatically denied.

"How can you be so sure it won't happen in the future?" my friend asked.

"I can't and won't ever cheat on my husband," I assured my bosom buddy, "because that would be all he needed to divorce me.  My cheating would only aide to him getting his freedom. And I don't want that!"

We both busted out laughing.  

If a man even looked at me and winked, I'd call the laws and tell 'em I was being sexually harassed and felt threatened. 

If some brother tried to "holler" at me, I swear to y'all, I'd shoot him in the mouf and run off screaming bloody murder.  Cause I'm trying to preserve my marriage.  If Shawn even thought I was cheating, he'd try to leave--he's looking for an out. 

And I ain't trying to move back to my momma's house over no bull$hit.  And I ain't going back to work for NOBODY!  I'm officially retired from the work world.  I ain't gonna go back to picking cotton and punching a time clock for a one-night stand.  Oh no baby!  That ain't 'bout to happen. 

The other night, Shawn and I were watching VH1 and they had a special on Black Music for June ('cause June is Black Music Month) about the blues.  And it was either BB King or Johnny "Guitar" Watson or somebody--singing one of those old blues songs and the first lyric out of his mouth was "My baby left me and I'm so sad and miserable..."

Shawn and I locked eyes before the singer could belt out the second verse and we busted out laughing.  "I know what you're thinking," I yelled out, "you're thinking 'This ain't the blues, this is a celebration.  Why is he sad? His woman just left.  It's time to rejoice.'"

He was choked; he couldn't even respond. 

He wants his freedom so badly he can taste it.  But it ain't gonna happen for him. Not now, not ever. I done told him, this marriage ain't got but two ways out (it's like a bad drug deal). It's either death or jail--and if the judge shows him some leniency during his sentencing, I might wait him out!

He's locked into this thing. I told him, he should have been more selective about who he had unprotected sex with and he wouldn't be in this situation now.  He should be the poster child for Lifestyle Condoms!

I gotta make a rule to only go to lunch with my fat girlfriends. 'Cause eating with my skinny friends gonna keep me hungry and with the shakes.

Yesterday 'round noon I met one of my girlfriends in St. Paul on Grand Avenue 'bout noon for a bite to eat.  Now mind you, I was really looking forward to it cause she's good company--plus this was a new place I'd never been to and she promised me that it'd be good!  And I believed her, cause girlfriend has excellent taste!

So I walk in there and didn't smell anything. I couldn't tell if they were pushing Mesquite BBQ or Italian pasta.  Cause the damn restaurant didn't have a scent!!!

She met me in the lobby of the place, and we took a seat in the corner. It was a buffet style restaurant, so I had to get Andrew all strapped in before I could get in line.  Still, I noticed there was no aroma of what I was 'bout to grub on.  I quickly figured out that I ain't smell nothing cause they wasn't cooking nothing!

I got in line, got my tray and started walking around to check out the choices. They started out with fruit selection, then salads, then soups, then bread and there was the check out clerk.  I looked at my skinny girlfriend in her Coach sandals and her half shirt and her pencil thin blue jean shirt and asked "Where are the entrees?  They got some meat and potatoes up in here?"  She was like "No, the salads have meat in them.  And then they have healthy sandwiches."  I was like "At these prices, we could have went to Subway and got the $5 foot long deal if all we was gonna eat was sammiches!"

I tried to be open minded so I grabbed a salad that thankfully had a few hunks of chicken in it.  And a bowl of soup that promised to have beef crumbles included in the recipe.  I looked for the meat but couldn't find it! 

Y'all know I ain't still in my maternity clothes cause I don't like to eat. My fat a$$ lives for eating. I wake up thinking what I'm gonna have for dinner. It took almost two years, but I'm back to my pre-delivery weight!  I weigh now the same amount I weighed right before I delivered Andrew.  You know how much work that took? How many donuts and how many bags of potato chips that entailed? How much beef and pork I swallowed with gravy on mashed potatoes?  I definitely didn't get to this point with soup and salad!

After lunch with  my girlfriend, I had to stop at Wendy's and get me a 5 piece nugget, just so I wouldn't get the "shakes" from starving to death prior to reaching my house in E St. Paul. 

When I got home, my stomach was still grumbling--I had to make me a hot dog and eat some potato chips and chase it down with a Wendy's chocolate frostie!  Ahhhhhhh, now that's lunch--that's living...

The food was good, don't get me wrong and I had a wonderful time.  But in order for me to go back there, they are going to have to start frying some chicken or something!

Today, when gay marriages were granted in California, I received a barrage of e-mails from you blog readers asking me my opinion about whether or not I agree with the state ruling.  Let Uncle Kathy tell you, gay people are just like straight people, they meet, fall in love and want to spend the rest of their lives together.  Yeah, we gay people are just as stupid as everyone else.

I don't knock anyone from getting married, gay or straight, but it ain't for Uncle Kathy. I've been married once and it ended badly.  Let's just say when I asked for a divorce, she already had the papers drawn up and all I had to do was sign them. We were both tired of each other and needed to move on with our lives.

Uncle Kathy declared then and there that she'd never be married again.  But I don't knock any person, regardless of their sexual preference, who wants to settle down with their soul mate and spending the rest of their lives with them.

I firmly believe that is a personal decision, marriage I am talking about.  My marriage has nothing to do with you and your marriage has nothing to do with me.  So I don't understand why so many people are outraged at gay marriages being legalized.  It's not like they are letting a bunch of criminal sex offenders out of jail; or allowing pedophiles to teach kindergarten. This is a situation where two consenting adults decide they love each other enough to legalize their union. 

And legalize is the key word in all this.  The wedding is just a symbolic ceremony, but when you allow gay partners to legally wed, it allows the two people a certain amount of protection from outsiders (nosy friends and family who want to take over in the case of sickness or death).  Plus that, it's easier to own property together, draw up wills, and get benefits. 

Now whose business is that except the two people who are involved in the marriage?

And a lot of people say "Well, it isn't in the Bible."  It also says "Thou shalt not lie." but how many of us tell a little one here and there to get through the day?  A sin is a sin is a sin!  And doesn't God forgive us all at the end of the day anyway?  No spiritual infraction is bigger than the other one--and if I'm committing a sin by loving someone with all my heart, then so be it.  It's the way I feel and God knows my heart.

So, to all the people who e-mailed me today and wanted to know my opinion on gay marriages being legalized in California, Uncle Kathy says it's about time, those men and women love one another and they have every right to be together, regardless of their sexual preference.  They just want to be happy, and isn't that one of the principles this country was founded on?  Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness!

You narrow minded people out there who think otherwise need to do one thing: MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS!  Take care of you and yours and leave ours alone.  We don't tell you who to love, don't tell us who we can love.  If you don't like it, turn off the television, pull your shades down and close your eyes, because that is the only way you are going to escape it.  We're here, we're queer and we aren't going anywhere.

And if next week, you've got a question you want me to answer or a problem you want Uncle Kathy to solve, send my niece an e-mail at sheletta@msn.com.  If your problem is selected, we will be sure and send you a gift from Sheletta's Shop (and not no cheap ass coaster either)!

And just an F-Y-I, Keith, brother you're in DC, I'm in Baltimore, you ain't but a stone's throw from an ass whooping. You're going to stop all that damn snitching! I got an e-mail from my niece telling me that you informed her that I hadn't logged on and done my blog.  Don't make me run up on you brother! (I appreciate your faithfulness)

Over the years, few have questioned Tiger Woods' skill as a golfer or his mental toughness. And after his gritty performance to capture the U.S. Open, few would question his intestinal fortitude. After he pulled out a one-stroke victory in what became a 19-hole playoff against Rocco Mediate, Woods acknowledged his surgically repaired knee was in worse shape than it seemed. Though he rarely let on how much it was bothering him during the four rounds of the tournament and the extra day of golf to break the two-way tie. After the Open was won, he had a noticeable limp as he went up the hill to accept the championship trophy. Woods won the tournament after holing a birdie putt to catch Mediate on the 18th and final hole of the playoff. And he birdied the first playoff hole to clinch the title.  Woods' win gives him 14 victories in major golf tournaments. The record is 18, held by Jack Nicklaus. Tiger equaled Nicklaus in one category with his win yesterday; he is the only player beside Nicklaus to win the career Grand Slam three times over.

Three years ago this summer, it was Michael Jackson. Now it's R. Kelly who finds himself in the position of trying to rebuild his career after being acquitted in a trial that could have seen him put in prison for a long time. Jackson's attempt at a comeback hasn't gone very well so far -- but how will R. Kelly fare? It would seem R. Kelly has a better chance of getting his career on track. Even during the six years since the child pornography charges were filed, he continued selling albums and touring. In fact, he has an album due out this year. But one possible problem may be how his music is perceived. Many of his fans are older, and its more adult themes are more likely to appeal to an older crowd that has followed him from the start of his 16-year career. But as is the case with Jackson, many younger fans who may have come up singing "I Believe I Can Fly" at their elementary school graduations aren't as aware of his more recent music. However, they are aware of the scandal surrounding his name, including his marriage to Aaliyah, who was 15 when they were hitched.

Bill Cosby says he thought about being a professional jazz drummer. But that was before he saw Max Roach play. Cos says once he saw how easily Roach played complex rhythms he himself had been struggling with, he decided: "I got to be funny." But the comedian has kept his hand in the musical field; he was the master of ceremonies at the 30th Playboy Jazz Festival this past weekend. He's so committed to hosting the event, he has told his agent to be sure he isn't booked elsewhere during festival weekend. Roach passed away last year.

 don't know why I'm thinking about this--this happened like five or six years ago--but every time it comes to mind--I get tickled--then pissed--then I laugh at the irony of it all.

I love to speed--well--before I had Andrew--I would love to just speed down the highway. When I was living in Louisiana--I'd go back and forth to Houston to visit my parents and hang out with my friends--and that I-10 stretch of freeway proved to be more fun if I blazed it going about 99 miles per hour.  The drive from my home in Louisiana to my parent's doorstep was about a 2 hour trip--I would challenge myself to do it in an hour and forty five minutes.

The drive was a bore--the scenery along the way were cattle, rest areas and adult video stores.  Sometimes, to save on gas--I'd ride home with my co-worker Marty--his parents lived in Houston and he'd make the trip from Louisiana almost as much as I did.  So I would hop in the passenger seat and have him drop me off at my momma's house until he was ready to go back to Louisiana on Sunday.

Marty had a little red sports car at the time and he loved to speed--I mean this thing had some get up and go!  He ain't have horse power--he had Clydesdale power.  He'd be zooming down I-10 about 110 or 120 miles per hour EASY!  And what surprised me was that Marty never got a ticket.  Cops never pulled him over--no matter how fast he went. He'd be blazing through speed traps--construction zones--work crews picking up trash--nothing--no red and blue lights would come after his car.

Well, one weekend--that changed!  Marty and I were heading to Houston from Louisiana like usual and suddenly, we heard a siren--then saw the flashing lights and an announcement from the boys in blue "Pull your car over..."  They weren't upset or anything--they asked politely actually... in fact, I believe they said please! 

Anyway, Marty pulls over and reaches in the glove box... I grabbed his hand "Man, put your hands out the window--don't reach in the glove compartment--otherwise they'll think you're going for a gun and shoot you.  It happened to my uncle.  Let 'em see your hands."

Marty brushed me off, "Girl stop trippin'--police ain't gonna shoot you--they here to help you.  Protect and serve..."

"Yeah," I told him, "protect the white folks and serve up an a$$ whipping to black people."

The cop approached the car, "Do you know how fast you were going?" he asked.

"No, I don't!  I'm sure I was speeding though." Marty said with a chuckle.

My eyes got bigger than a slave who saw white sheets headed toward the underground railroad.  I was scared-er than a priest in jail (regular prison--not that old sissy-fied country club stuff).  But to my surprise, the officer was friendly.

He said, "You were doing over a hundred--I have one of these cars--and I'm tempted to test it out every now and again myself...."

They both started laughing and then the cop continued, "Here, I'm gonna give you a warning--keep it near the speed limit, if you can."

And he walked back to his car.  I was furious... I jumped out the car and walked toward the trooper, "A warning? What the hell is a warning? We were doing over a hundred miles an hour in a damn school zone and you gonna give him a warning?"

"Ma'am--please get back in the car." The officer warned.

Marty was all confused he ain't know what to do, "Girl get in the car... Why are you trippin?"

"I'm trippin' cause black folks ain't never heard of no damn warning.  I guarantee you when the cops stop us--we getting a ticket--we gonna have to come off some money! We ain't even know something like a freaking warning existed!"

"Well it does..." the cop explained.

"Yeah--but it must be for white folks only--the next time I get pulled over, I'm gonna tell the police to give me a warning like y'all been giving the white folks all these years--cause I'm due at least one."

I got back in the car--but I was pissed. I got on the cell phone and called every black person I knew--I asked 'em "Have y'all ever heard of getting a warning instead of a speeding ticket?"  Not one person I knew had any idea there was such a thang.

Marty was in shock, "I get warnings all the time--I never get tickets--they just pull me over--warn me that I'm a little over the limit--and send me on my way."

That made me even more mad!  You mean to tell me all this time--cops been issuing warnings to white folks while black folks and brown folks been getting tickets--and our insurance rates are through the roof--and All State won't stand behind us and we ain't in good hands with State Farm no 'moe--the damn Geico cavemen won't even return our calls--hell, even a phone is easy enough for a Caveman to use!

So from now on y'all--when you get pulled over for speeding--tell the cops that you want a white folks warning--it's part of your reparations package--tell 'em you cracked the code--you know what's up--and you want in on the deal!

All this time--when I be seeing white folks pulled over by the laws--I think "Yeah, they getting a ticket just like us!"  WRONG!  They over there trading bunt cake recipes, trading ghost stories and passing out warning slips.

Mole. Smole. For all the talk about whether the mole on R. Kelly's back would be the key in determining his innocence or guilt, members of the jury say it had little to do with the case in their view. After R. Kelly was acquitted of all the child pornography charges against him, five members of the panel spoke with reporters. Jurors said the mole defense rarely came up in deliberations -- and had no impact on the verdict.  However, the identification of the alleged victim in the tape did prove to be a problem for the jury. Jury members say prosecutors didn't convince them the female in the video was who they said she was. One juror said while they wanted to be 100 percent sure it was the singer and the victim, what prosecutors presented "wasn't enough."

Kanye West has probably heard people chant for him before -- but not quite like this. He was serenaded with chants of "Kanye sucks" by fans at the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival. The crowd was upset because the rapper's performance was delayed nearly two hours. He was to take the main stage at 2:45 yesterday morning. But he didn't end up going on until 4:25 am. Officials say the delay was caused by problems putting together West's set. But Bonnaroo fans weren't feeling that. Along with the chanting, they threw glow sticks on the empty stage. Even later in the day, another performer was able to get the crowd to repeat its anti-Kanye chant.

It was a strong message to black fathers from Barack Obama: step up your games. The likely Democratic presidential contender called on black dads to be more active in raising their kids. He says too many black fathers are "acting like boys instead of men" and the foundations of African- American families "are weaker because of it." He made the comments at a predominantly black church in his hometown of Chicago.

I guess I should write down the rules of the household for folks who come to visit and stay overnight, kinda like they had in the movie Cider House Rules.  But who would take me seriously? As much as we joke around here, they'd think it was just some silly comedy routine I was testing out...

But when it comes to my house, I'm dead-on serious.  My house guests, however, don't really see it that way.  They come here to relax, spend time with us and visit with Andrew. And I guess, as expensive as airline tickets are, you kinda gotta give them some leeway while they're visiting.  But we've had some major infractions (most of 'em by my mother-in-law) recently by out of town company that made me come up with this week's Top 10 list: "Top 10 Things that your house guests should not do..."

10.  If you're a man, put the toilet seat down!  My husband has been trained; however, the single male friends that we know who came over to visit recently have not been through the instruction course. And I have the wet ass to prove it!

9.  My mother in law was here back in May and when I went to get food to cook dinner, I came back and she had instructed my father in law to clean off the stove. Obviously, the job I did wasn't good enough!

8.  Don't be bringing no extra folks with you. Andrew's Uncle Marty came up recently to take him to his first ballgame!  Which was very nice (and expensive) of him.  Well, he called a few days before arriving and tells me that he's bringing one of his "ladies" with him. I promptly made him reservations at the Holiday Inn.  Y'all know if I don't let a woman pee at my house I damn sure ain't bout to let one take off her clothes to shower.  Either she was gonna sleep in the car and bathe in the restroom at the Super America gas station or she was checking in at the Holiday Inn Express!  Let's just say after her visit, she's smarter...

7.  When my favorite aunt visited recently for Mother's Day, I noticed that there were extra bath towels in the cabinet.  I asked Shawn "Honey, did you go shopping for linens?" When he said no, I tried to figure out what was going on and why we had a surplus of new towels. Well, my beloved aunt says that when she travels, she always brings her own towels!

6.  Oh my kin folks got a bad habit of going through folks' mail.  And usually, when we have out of town company like older aunts or when grandma comes to town, Shawn and I will leave Andrew with them to either run errands or just go out to spend some "alone" time together.  Well, we were out one Saturday afternoon, when one of our house guests took the liberty of not only receiving our mail, but going through it.  We got home, walked in the door and came in to hear her say "Y'alls cell phone bill came today."  Ain't that a blip?

5.  If it's the last of something, don't eat it.  If ain't but one Twinkies in the box, ask before you take it. Otherwise, walk your a$$ down the street to Target and buy a new box!  I live for the Twinkies since my Girl Scout Cookie jar has gone bone dry.  I run out of Twinkies and I will snap, crackle and POP somebody!

4.  Decorative towels are just for decoration. They ain't for you to wipe your hands on after you wash 'em.  That's why we have paper towels right next to the hand soap in the restrooms.  The paper towel is what you use to dry your hands on, not my designer expensive decorate towels. 

3.  Ask for help if you find yourself in a bind.  We had some company over the other day and they broke all the damn child safety covers for the toilet seats.  Every single one in all the restrooms.  The one in the downstairs guest bathroom was shattered.  That's when my friend declared, "You know, I don't know what these are, but I think this one isn't usable anymore."

2.  Follow instructions when you're using our $hit. My momma came here and took one of my husband's kitchen spoons to make a gravy for the gumbo that wasn't designed to withstand 500 degree heat.  Child, she melted the spoon then put it in the freezer to try to reshape it so we wouldn't know it was damaged.  When we got ready to use it, it was warped!

1.  Don't be rearranging nobody's damn furniture.  My mother in law weighs all of 80 pounds and has a 10 pound oxygen tank on her back. When she's out and about, she's gotta use a wheel chair and can't walk for more than a few feet without having to sit down and rest.  But when she was visiting us recently, somehow, she mustered up enough strength to change my damn living room furniture around.  Had my whole damn family room rearranged by the time I got back from grocery shopping.

OK, so it's Father's Day, and I got a good husband and he's a good dad--and I know I gotta get him something as a gift.  I got about $20 in my check book and I done wrote a $14 check in church, which means I got a total of $6 to "play with".  After I go to Walgreens to get the cards from me and from Andrew, now I'm down to $1.59!

He wants a copy of the book The Color Purple. He's seen the movie about fifty-leven times, then we went to Broadway show in New York.  But he's never read the book.  So I go to Border's, wrote a hot check, and got his book.  Now mind you, I knew I ain't have the money in the account, but I couldn't bear the thought of not getting my husband what he wanted for Father's Day.  I guess it made me nervous that I was writing these checks--cause my stomach started bubbling!  I mean, I couldn't make it out of the damn bookstore.  Child, I went in there and they had to put a hazardous sign on the door and not let anybody in there after I walked out.  They put up flares and sent in a "crew" to take care of what I had done. 

But that's all he really wanted me to get, but he needed actually NEEDED a docking station for his I-pod at work.

I went to Circuit City and found one for $40!  So I wrote a check, through a lot of sweat and shaky hands, to get him the docking station.  My stomach again got nervous, I thought "Surely, I can make it home."; so I jumped in the car and tried to get back on "my side of town".  Cause nobody likes going to a public restroom, especially when it's a #2!  And y'all know I'm a germ phobe to boot--so the last thing I wanted to do was "sit down" and stay a while in a restroom that wasn't properly Lysol-ed and Clorox-ed.

But I couldn't get to I-94!  I mean, my stomach was rumbling like Mount St. Helen.  The only place I saw that I could get to quickly enough was TGI Friday in Woodbury.  I ran two red lights and a stop-sign, turned the corner on two wheels--left the damn docking station, my purse and the book on the front seat of my car with the windows down and the car running with the keys in the ignition. I could care less if somebody got in there and drove off--my job was to get to the damn "bowl".  I made it with seconds to spare...

So I get on the road, head home, give Shawn's his gifts.  He's thankful, but the I-pod charger is not what he wants.  He needs one that charges, not just one that docs!  So I go back to Circuit City, and he comes along to make sure I got the right one.  Childdddddddddddddd, the one he wanted was $50 more.  He offered to pay the difference, but I refused his money.  I wrote  yet another check thinking, "Lawd have mercy!".

We get home, and now the new one is missing a "piece" so I gotta take it back and get something else, because that was the last one of that kind.  Shawn can't go with me cause he gotta bar-b-que steaks--we got company coming over (his friend Reg is in town from Buffalo). So here I go, back to Circuit City, scared I'm gonna have to write another damn check.  I'm on the phone with him and we decide that we're just going to return it and go to Best Buy later this week and find one that he likes--we'll take our time and look at some other stores and find some other options.

I get back in the car and the damn gas tank is on E! It's not on E, it's underneath E.  I'm talking the car is sputtering and stammering and barely making it. I'm nervous as OJ Simpson at Bennihana cause I don't think we can make it home.  I look in my purse and find a single dollar bill. Y'all, I'm five miles from home, mad at my husband, and got no gas in the car. I pulled up to the gas station and got $1 in gas. How much did that get me? A tea-spoon full!  I could have used a medicine dropper instead of a fuel pump to put it in my car!

So I drive home, at 40 miles per hour, thinking if I drive slower, the gas will last longer. I get home and Shawn says he's going out with his home boy Reg to the bar to watch the NBA Finals.  OK, fine--that's good!  So we have dinner cause the food is done--then Shawn gotta get up and get ready to leave to hang out with his homeboy.

He walks upstairs to shower and Andrew's looking at him like "Hey dad, how you just gonna go upstairs and not say nothing to me?"

So I yelled out "Hey, how you just gonna leave the table and not say anything to your son? He's looking for you?"

I hear Shawn heavy breathing and smacking his lips.  I'm like "Oh, he's tired of me and I'm tired of his ass too. I'm just gonna get my baby, pack us a diaper bag and leave. We're gonna go and just ride around or something. But we're gonna get the hell out of here. I don't need this $hit!"

Cause that's what I do--when we argue or fight--I just go--jet--leave for a few hours--just long enough for him to get worried and wonder "Where the hell is she?"!  I'd rather be gone and allow us to both clear our heads than to be up in the house together fuming and mad and upset!

Child, me and Andrew walked out to the car, started it up, I saw that I was still under E!  I turned off the ignition, slipped on my walking shoes and we took a trip around the neighborhood on foot.  We went to the local fire station at the end of the block, walked around and learned that trees are "green" (and not blue) and not edible.   I looked back and was probably a mile or so from my crib.  I knew there was no way that I could make it back home without a defibrillator or a medic... so I had to suck it up and call for a ride. I pulled out the cell phone and breathed heavily before talking "Hey honey. It's me. Listen, let's hurry up and feel better about this whole day. Cause I'm gonna need you to come pick my fat ass up.  I'm a mile or so away from the house and if I try to walk back, I guarantee you that you'll be cashing my life insurance check sooner than you think."

Shawn responded, "You're worth more dead than alive.  Get to steppin..."

Then and there, I knew all was forgiven on both sides!

The wife of rapper Snoop Dogg has been arrested in California's Orange County for investigation of driving under the influence of alcohol. Fullerton police stopped 32-year-old Shante Broadus about 12:15 a.m. Saturday and took her to jail. Broadus and Snoop Dogg -- whose real name is Calvin Broadus Jr. -- were married in 1997 and have three children.  Have y'all seen Snoop's show Fatherhood on E! Entertainment Television?  Those are some bad ass kids, I'd have to leave the house and go out and get a drink too. I'd be snorting cocaine mixed with washing powder if those three demons belonged to me.  I saw one episode where the oldest kid took the car and drove it, a multi-million dollar automobile going down the road with a 13 year old behind the wheel.  I saw another episode where the kids were standing there playing video games and the tutor came over to help them with their homework and they refused to let her in. Now the woman saw them through the window and they didn't open the door.  And nobody got whooped or slapped or anything.  She gotta be high--cause had that been any other black momma, she would have gone to jail right after that taping cause she would have beat the hell out of 'em. 

Music star R Kelly has been acquitted on all counts at his child pornography trial.  The verdict at a Chicago court came six years after the R&B superstar was first charged with videotaping himself having sex with a young girl.  Prosecutors had said she was as young as 13 at the time.  OK, we all know the truth, yeah, R is a pervert, he had sex with this little girl--but all parties involved should be shame!  He clearly paid the girl off--she took the money, that makes me pissed off at her. Her momma 'nem held on to the tape for years before finally snitching on R for what he did to their baby girl, cause they were waiting for a "pay off".  The alleged victim didn't even testify, she was probably at the mall spending some of those stacks of cash R shelled out to keep her mouth shut.  My girlfriend asked me "How much could he pay you to shut you up?" I told her, "Honey, broke as I am, for a full tank of gas, he'd have to pay me to talk again."

And finally, I heard an interview on the Wendy Williams nationally syndicated show that blew my mind!  I don't normally listen to the damn show, cause I think Wendy doesn't really do anything except trash folks and talk about BS--kinda like a black female Howard Stern--nothing of value comes from the damn show.  But I was reading mediatakeout.com and they said that former Destiny's Child Michelle Williams was on the show doing an interview.  I like Michelle, so I clicked on the link to listen.  Well, Michelle reveals that her real name ain't Michelle, it's actually Tanisha! What the hell? Michelle Williams is really Tanisha Williams!!  She said Matthew Knowles (Destiny's Child manager and Beyonce's daddy) felt it was too ghetto!  I guess "Beyonce" and "Solonge" are real proper names.