Happy Daddy Issues Day

Whether you have a father in your life or not doesn't spare you from "Daddy Issues."

I think everyone has them whether their father was home every night for dinner like mine or a ghost who wanted nothing to do with their kids. It's just unavoidable. The severity of the issues depends on the father.

My father is a good father. He worked hard, he held down a great job, we were always well taken care of and had everything we could ever need. But he is also emotionally withholding and stoic. He's the strong, silent-type, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. All my childhood I've been obsessed with getting him to do the one thing he can't -- open up.

More after the jump.

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My East Coast Tour (Slideshow)

Photos from New York and Washington, D.C.

See all the pictures from my trip, including the Boston shots, here. Will post individual stories from the trip about the photos throughout the week!

Another slideshow after the jump!

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The Bubble Tea That Almost Killed Me (But Not Really)

It looked so innocent and delicious, but yesterday as I was drinking this yummy strawberry bubble tea it tried to take me out when one of the beads of yogurt became lodged in what I think was my trachea. (It was like choking, but I could still breathe.) I kept trying to swallow, but it wouldn't move from its spot. Finally I figured out it was stuck in the "air hole," not the "food hole" and began coughing to get that sucker dislodged and moving on to my tummy.

I'm fine, but for two seconds I was highly perplexed, wondering, (while still breathing fine, mind you) if I could die by Bubble Tea and what a lame freakin' death that would be.

"Black Blogger Dead By Bead In Bubble Tea" is not a cool headline.

Oprah's Mane Versus Mine

It's ridiculous. See video of Oprah talking about her natural hair here.

Danielle, Dorothy and Lindy's $8 Sierra Mists

Really. $8 friggin' dollars. And the $20 sandwiches came without fries.

We had lunch at Ray's Pizza instead. Soda was $1.75 there.

My First New York Meal

Breakfast of Champion (Bloggers)

Vlogging Up From Vlogston

Vlogging From Vlogston

"But What Is She Wearing?" (Woman Solutions)

The wonderful, craptastic $5 Target skater punk shoes I wear everyday. The everlasting symbol of how hard The Snob fell fashion-wise when THIS became the signature item. It looked good with an all black uniform at Macy's while sweater folding.

Last week I wrote about not having any clue what I would wear to the conference, interviews and functions ... problem solved!

Here's a sampling. The rest are on my Facebook page!

Off-white scarf with old teal Old Navy stretch turtleneck, Mossimo jeans and my new Jones New York Trench Coat and off-white canvas purse with wooden handles.Black and white dress from Dress Barn with short "swing" style jacket and red mock croc clutch.Dusty rose layered blouse (from Target) with khaki suit and brown beads from Macy's.DNKY Jeans blouse with NY Collection wrap from Macy's."Kimono" Asian-inspired blouse by Hype (it's old as hell) with black pants set and jacket from The Limited (also old as hell)

Now on to world hunger.

Gimmie Fiction: Fortune Cookies Aren't Asian

Know a guy with an Asian fetish who creeps you out? I have and do. This latest short story is for him.

Written in 2002, this "Office"-style comedy is located exclusively on my Facebook page as part of my online fiction series. Here is a taste of the racial satire, "Fortune Cookies Aren't Asian."

Martin loved everything Asian. Everything. Especially, his then assistant, Naomi, who was Korean.

Of course, to pursue Naomi would be tantamount to a lawsuit since she was ten years his junior and he was her boss, but that didn’t stop him from fantasizing about her as she would sit there during meetings, giving him that same blank look of indifference she gave him all the time.

Because she was Korean and because Martin had an Asian fetish he assumed Naomi was exotic and mysterious, disregarding the fact that she was a third-generation American, drove a Ford Explorer SUV and liked rap music. He would scarcely talk to her because he wanted her to remain an enigma to him, but to the rest of the office Naomi was a gossiping chatterbox who could never remain quiet. She was almost always in the middle of something and had a passion for fixing up people on awful blind dates.

She liked chaos. It was her nature, and on top of that, she was a Gemini.

Naomi hated how her boss Martin was so lonely all the time because it meant she had to put up with him. She wanted desperately to fix him up with someone. It seemed that Martin spent almost all his time with her and their conversations were almost always painful and insipid. His earnest, but still racist, statements would often annoy her.

“It must have been difficult for your family to let you move out on your own,” Martin said one day over coffee as they discussed the end-quarter reports. “You being a girl and them not wanting you to leave the house until you were married. I can only image how hard this must be for you.”

“Oh, it really was no big deal. I’ve been on my own since college.”

“You’re lucky they didn’t plan an arranged marriage for you when you were younger. I once dated an Indian girl who had to dump me because it was time for her arranged marriage,” Martin said stirring the cream into his coffee.

“My parents really don’t believe in that.”

“Your family’s from ... where?”

“They’re from Scarsdale.”

“You said your father was a doctor, right?”

“He’s a musician.”

“Classical?”

“No. Jazz.”

“And your mother? Did she work?”

“She’s a school teacher.”

“Interesting.”

To read more, friend me on Facebook or if we're already buddies, click here.

What To Wear ... Answered!

Today's shopping trip with Tiff was a rousing success! (Although I'm STILL waiting for that perfect shirt to arrive from Old Navy.)

First off, the great news: I am officially a size 16-18 pants again. That means I can wear a medium to large regular size top. No more plus sized tops! All the pants I tried on fit AMAZING. (Shoes, not so much), but it was was still great.

Yesterday on Facebook I went into more detail of what I wanted and I was actually able to find similar, well-made, but less expensive versions of my clothes, PLUS a khaki "Lois Lane-ish" Jones New York Trench coat, a skirt that fits like a dream and a black-and-white dress that I made look extra fierce. It was just a great self-esteem boost to go shopping and have to ask over and over for the "smaller" size. Gimmie another year and a half and I'll be at my ideal weight with a healthy BMI!

Anyway. I will take pictures of the clothes and me in them while out and about. For now .... sleep is necessary.

Ciao,

The Snob

PS. Thanks everyone for the weather-based fashion advice for my trip to Harvard, NYC and DC. I think I have the appropriate look for reach place thanks to your advice and some sleuthing on my own.

Happy Birthday, Mama Snob!

My mother Deloris and myself in 2006.Before The Snob. Before Big Sis and before the baddest Snob of them all, Baby Snob, there was Mama Snob. One part Pam Grier/one part Southern Genteel lady person, she overcame obstacles that would have made the average person resign to a life of government checks a long, long time ago.

Oldest of nine, she decided if she had a future it wasn't on the cotton plantations of Jackson County. She went to Little Rock to attend college, eventually enrolling in Philander Smith. But being dirt poor almost saw her college dreams die without the help of a woman in financial aid who would become her soror after she joined Zeta Phi Beta Sorority Inc.

Mother Snob, who wore heels and stockings to class everyday and often had to choose between food and deodorant to survive, has always been proud of talking about how she came from nothing to be a college graduate, wife, mother, educational activist and my hero.

To this day she is always

She's amazingly humble, loves her family dearly (ride or die Robinsons and Adams!) and hates that her picture is on the Web so, Snob cousins, shhhhh. This one is between us. And don't forget to call your Aunt Babyray Friday and wish her luck. Poor lady is having hip surgery.

She blames the cotton pickin'.

Oh, and her immediately family because we're lazy and don't deserve her and she's right.

Love you, Mommy!

Twisted and Tired

Me sophomore year.Dot and I are busy planning the trip to Harvard, NYC and DC. The logistics are a pain so I'm grateful for Dot and her help. She's my hero in this, especially with the whole unplanned bipolar hurricane that blew through.

Speaking of which, I'm doing well. I see my doctor for a follow-up Thursday. I don't have much of an appetite though, which isn't good considering the harsh medication I'm ingesting on a daily basis. My memory has improved although I still struggle with annoying things like remembering what day it is or how to do basic math, something I was once pretty good at.

Mama Snob's birthday is Friday and I feel like a schlub because my car is in the shop and even if it were here I can't drive because I'm not used to the meds yet. So the present is going to be old school this year and homemade. (Don't worry. Mama Snob is a genteel Southern lady. She thinks the internet is a crochet stitch.) But I'm like a drunk when I drive. So I have to rely on the mommy person and the daddy person to get to and fro making buying a present a no-go (even if I technically got her a present early a month ago).

Tiffany, my BFF from high school, has been great. She brought her babies by to cheer me up and I can't be unhappy with a giggling kid in my arms. I told her instead of meds she should just let me have a baby for one hour a day.

(More after the jump)

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Aw ... You All Got It!

Writing about going to the hospital for my own dark thoughts and bipolar disorder was hard, but the thing I wanted people to get was that they weren't alone and in telling me I wasn't alone you all actually told EACH OTHER that you're not alone and now we have comment after comment, story after story of support showing there is room for this dialog in our community. That progress can and will be made.

I will continue to write about my disorder on the journal page from time-to-time. Right now I'm going medication hell. After a week of singing Foreigner's "Double Vision" every time I tried to write a note, I can see again. I'm still wobbly and can't drive, but things have improved. My mood is better and I'm looking forward to meeting a lot of you when I go to Harvard for their Black Policy Conference at the Kennedy Center where I'll be a panelist.

Afterwards I will be going to New York City to meet with potential business contacts and interests, then heading to Washington, D.C. to meet my largest fan base as well as more business contacts, writers, artists, academics, friends and other people.

Pray for Dot, ya'll. She has to plan this ungodly thing.

I also hope to attend this year's Blogging While Brown conference in mid-June since it's just up in Chicago and I have relatives out the ying yang up there. (South side, represent!) But I may be a touch "cash poor" after the big Harvard-NYC-Washington, D.C. trip. (RE: I've never been above begging!)

And don't ask about NABJ yet. I'm not even sure if I'm still a member!

Thanks again for your love and support and thank you for sharing your stories so others know they are not alone.