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ebthecelebrity · 3 years

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Raging Bull

I remember very vividly. There was a little girl swarming around like a fish out of water in a shopping cart frantically trying to escape. She screamed at the top of her lungs every 5 seconds. We were in Target on a Tuesday afternoon, and I was there because I had to make a quick grocery run for bread and a bottle of wine. The line was moving slow and the little girl was obviously not feeling it. Her yell wasn’t just a toddler’s yell who was starting to find her voice. It was a troubled scream from the pit of her little soul. She would yell and her mother would anxiously shush her. With two shoppers ahead of us in the check-out line, I realized that between the little girl’s uncooperating antics and her mother’s desperate plea for silence, a simple 15-minute wait in line would feel like an eternity.

Her mom pulled different gadgets out of her purse in order to calm the child down. She pulled out a set of keys and shook them like a rattle in her face. The little girl smacked them out of her hand. The woman walked over to the side of the cart and bent over to pick them up. She glanced at me and gave a nervous laugh. She then took out a dum dum lollipop and attempted to put it in the little girl’s mouth. In return the child grabbed the woman’s hand and bit it aggressively. She snatched her hand back and said a firm “No!” The little girl continued to yell agitatedly while beating the shopping cart’s handle

They were now next in line and I thanked God about twenty times in my head. I normally am not bothered by children and their “She’s just being a kid” behavior, but this one had me beat. The woman quickly threw her items on the conveyor belt and hauled out of there after paying. I could hear the piercing screams of the child headed out of the double door exit. I walked up to the cashier and handled her my wine bottle.

“I may need to get a bottle myself after dealing with that kid,” she said jokingly.

I gave her a dry laugh and glanced at the double door exit again. All I could see is that distraught mother’s face. The embarrassment on her face and her timid body language spoke louder than her child. My nerves were a little bad, not by the child’s behavior but on how the woman’s mental health must be dealing with this on a normal shopping trip. As I walked out of Target and headed towards my car, the brassy scream of the little girl was nearby. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked for them. I glanced across the parking lot and spotted the mother lightly fighting with the little girl to get her in a car seat. I walked over and said, “Do you need some help?”

I startled her and she grabbed her chest. “Oh thank you, I got it ma’am. I appreciate that….and sorry for the noise in there.” She let out a tense laugh. Her eyes were glossy as if she were fighting back tears. She was frazzled and her white shirt stained of underarm sweat.

“No apologies needed,” I replied.

The woman let out a deep sigh. “She’s autistic,” she said.

“Oh…I’m sorry. I….” I replied.

She cut me off in mid-sentence. “Don’t be. I normally can’t take her out in public like this. Again, my apologies,” she said.

She closed her back door and walked over to the driver’s side to get in. “Have a good day.”

I watched her back out of her parking space and drive off before walking to my car. About 17 miles down the road later, I started driving down a country road near my home. I had bought my house outside the city limits to save money on taxes and enjoy the calm, serene sounds of crickets at night. I was going about 60 miles per hour when all of a sudden, a big, dark animal ran in front of my car, causing me to slam on the breaks and come to an abrupt halt. I felt my entire body grow numb. It stopped trotting in its tracks and let out a noise similar to a frog. It was a deep and odd sound.

“Is that a damn bull?!” I shouted to myself in the car.

I tried not to panic and locked my doors, hysterically looking around me for help. I glanced over to my right to see two people running from their farm residence down to the residential street in an attempt to stop the raging bull. It started kicking its hooves up behind him.

“Oh my God, my car is red.” I silently said to myself.

The color of my car triggered the bull in a rage. The deep roar grew louder and more frequent and it continued to kick the dirt behind him. I glanced back over to the running men coming down a hill. I was unsure if they would make it in time before the bull rammed into my compact Kia sedan. Suddenly, I pictured the little girl in Target. Her actions were similar to the bull; untamed wild, and bothered. This was her spirit animal visiting me all over again. The isolation of both this powerful animal and the little girl resulted in erratic behavior. The similarities of being surrounded by people who didn’t understand them. The communication barriers that they struggled with in a closed-minded environment. The effect of sensory things like the color red and a noisy supermarket sent them both in a frenzy.

This story goes out to all the parents of autistic children. I see you every day. I see your children raging like a bull in order to gain acceptance and have others grasp their comprehension. The next time you witness a child that is uncontrollable, do not tease or pester them the same way you wouldn’t do that to a bull who is ready to charge. Rage is only an intense and uncontrollable action that only patience, love and understanding can calm.

#autism #autism spectrum disorder

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ebthecelebrity · 3 years

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I’m building a church ya’ll....

I recently read online that building a church can take from one to four years. The process consists of solidifying a committee, setting a budget, choosing a piece of land, hiring a designer or building company, and understanding building and zoning codes. Once these five steps are accomplished, it’s time to move in and start your praise and worship. These past few weeks, I have been feeling very different; like I am transitioning. I have silenced the distractions to listen to God and today he told me to build my church. Yes, build my church…. well not literally.

Today I was off work and as much personal errands I have to run; I sit down and watch a church sermon on YouTube. If you need a church home, please check out Transformation Church. This church is steadily transforming my life, since I started faithfully watching during the pandemic. It starts off casually, with me eating some ice cream and watching Pastor Michael Todd. Then within a few minutes in, the Holy Ghost hit me in my living room. I break out in a praise and the tears just start rolling down my cheeks. It is a much-needed loud cry. Feels like it’s from deep within my soul of whatever pain I have been holding onto. God will do you like that! He truly catches you slipping and before you know it, you’re running and screaming in your home like the Exorcist. I stand up and raise my hands because God was deserving of the praise. Everything that I had been silently enduring, God tells me “It’s over. Start building your church.” Being obedient, I start researching how to build a church and this analogy came to mind.

The first step in the construction of your church is solidifying a building committee. This is the group of people who will help your vision come to life. They assist you with decision making, and the budget. Also, let’s face it...building a church can be stressful, this congregation helps you with your mental health. When you think about your tribe, your circle, your true family…. this is them! Who are the people in your life at this very moment, that will be a part of your building committee? Who is dependable, good spirited, honest, and loyal? I have so many “friends” but not all of them fit this description. I am so loyal that if I know a person from the 2nd grade, I’m still referring them as my “friend.” Not everyone deserves this title. It’s important to know that if you follow God’s purpose, not every soul he has placed in your life deserves to go with you while you are in construction mode. This distinction will save you future heartbreak, confusion, and time. I’ve started assessing who I follow on social media, phone numbers I am keeping, and calls I am answering. Your building committee must hold you accountable and also support you for the rest of your life. Who is your congregation?

The next step is to set your budget. What are some of your short-term goals? Do you have the cash readily available to make it happen now? If you don’t have it, how are you going to get it? Budgeting is key. When I sit back and think about the goals I have in place for the next year, I want to be able to set myself up for success and be ready. Setting a short-term goal is just as important, if not more, than a long term one. There is so much emphasis on long term planning, but what we really are ignoring is the fact that tomorrow is not even promised. I start to think about the Amazon, Door Dash, and alcohol I’ve purchased this pandemic and none of that contributes to my short-term goals. If you budget your church construction today, you won’t come across any hiccups when it’s time to start building. Write down 5 short term goals and work towards them NOW. Whether these goals will cost you $200 or $20,000, time is of the essence. Stop wasting time, get your church off the ground.

Choosing your land is a very important piece of a church construction project. The land represents your temple. How is your health? When I ask myself this, I get a little emotional. I am not unhealthy, but I have definitely neglected my body for a long time. I can feel it after a late-night alcohol binge. I can see it when I look at the mirror. Your land will dictate the design for your church. When you start building, you want your land to be in perfect shape to be able to hold a stable structure. When you allow others to use your temple casually, your land is less desirable. The way society praises casual sex and junk food has really disrupted the mindset of how important it is to keep your land beautiful. Getting adequate exercise, practicing good health habits, eating a balanced diet, self-care for mental health and having a healthy sexual relationship are all a part of what can affect the value of your lot and your ability to BUILD. How is your lot right now? What is your value?

The blueprint of your church is the outline of your life. It’s your plan that will eventually lead you to your purpose. I had been struggling with my purpose for years and I finally realized it during the pandemic at the age of 37. When the world closed down, it allowed me the opportunity to get still and focus on what God called me to do here on this earthly journey. Carefully designing your church takes prayer, concentration, and also the help of your congregation. You hire yourself as the designer and building company because ultimately, YOU are in control of YOUR life. Have you ever rode by a beautiful and breathtaking church and thought to yourself, “Wow! I would love to see how it looks inside”? That is the same effect that your God driven purpose is to have on others around you. Design your church to be attractive, where every person you encounter leaves inspired and motivated. Let your presence be felt beyond your years, leaving a legacy. You know when the Pastor of a church passes away and the ministry continues? Well, that happens the same way when you design your church in the way that God made fit. Do you have your blueprint ready?

Last but certainly not least, understanding the building and zoning codes are a must! The tedious paperwork has to be done in life in order to do right by your congregation. Navigating through life takes adulting and this is where your t’s are crossed and your I’s are dotted. Do you have life insurance? Do you have a will in place? If you have a child(ren), there is no excuse for you not to have these in place. Let’s face it, we all have an appointment with our maker, so please have your church in order when it’s your time. Understanding that with leveling up, there comes responsibility. I recently drafted my will last year with an attorney and it was such a relief to get that out of the way. I put everything down from my medical demands to my funeral arrangements. There is no confusion. Just like your church home, navigating the laws and paperwork is crucial. Make it a necessity to have these things in order, as times a wasting.

So, I’m building a church right now. If I am unavailable, distant, or short with you please don’t take it personal. As I mentioned this process may take one to four years to complete. I suggest that you start building yours too. For church is not for the perfect human being, it’s for the imperfect one who needs structure and guidance every day.

#church #growth #selflove #congregation #godlovesyou #construction #blackauthors #blackbloggers #newblogpost

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ebthecelebrity · 3 years

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Tequila Sunrise

“Girl, just get on one of those dating apps and find you a boo,” said Kia.

Destiny sighs and sucks her teeth. “I guess I have gotten to this point to do so. I really did not want to go this route Kia!” Destiny replied.

“How else are you going to meet anyone? I say give it a try. I’ve heard there’s some good men on those apps,” Kia said.

“Which one should I download?”

“Um..someone told me ConnectedBLK was good. Gone head and meet you your tall, dark and handsome,” Kia answered jokingly.

“I’ll think about it,” Destiny replied un-enthusiastically.

“Lawd, you are going to be single forever with this attitude,” Kia replied.

Single Forever. That statement made Destiny’s heart race with anxiety. She was a 38 year old single mother who hadn’t been on a date in two years. The thought of meeting someone new was not an easy task for her. All she would ever do is fall in love like a hopeless romantic, only to get her heart broken. It’s happened too many times to count and too many times her heart could bear. The last relationship resulted in her seeking counseling. His name was Raheem, blessed with a gift for charm and a big dick. He was a manipulator who continuously cheated with no remorse. Whenever he got caught, he begged for her forgiveness on hands and knees; only to cheat again within months of reconciliation. Dating sucked but being lonely topped the cake.

“Kia, let me call you back. I’m about to start dinner for Jacob,” Destiny said.

“Alright girl, and don’t forget to downlo..”

Destiny hung up on Kia before she could even get it out. She knew that her friends were tired of seeing her sulk in depression, but she just didn't know if she could fathom another no good man who would talk the panties off her, sex her lies, and have her 13 year old son witness his mother’s downfall all over again. She was damaged goods.

Later that night, Destiny poured a glass of wine and sat on the couch. She turned to Lifetime where she started tuning into a movie that had already started. A very attractive couple was tonguing each other down against a wall in full blown lust. She sighed heavily and looked at her cell phone that was laid on the table. She picked it up and went to her text messages. The last text she received was from her Mom 6 hours ago, asking her what size her son wore.

She shook her head. “Damn, my phone is dry as hell. Is this really my life right now?” Destiny asked herself.

There was not a “Have a good night”, “I miss you”, or “I want to see you” text message in sight. She opened up her app store and searched “Dating Apps”. Upon scrolling, she found ConnectedBLK that Kia suggested. She proceeded to create a profile, contemplating using her real name and picture, but she did not want to get catfished herself. Instead, she let her guard down and was truthful. After 20 minutes of setting up a bio and uploading a sexy picture, she hit “complete” and closed out of the app. It was official, she was back on the dating scene.

Two days later, Destiny was typing at her desk at work. Her phone lit up with a notification. It was from the dating app. It read, “You have a connection.” Her heart fluttered with both anticipation and fear. She opened her phone up to see a handsome, professional looking man in the profile pic. She had swiped right on him yesterday. His name was Lenny. His pics were very stunning; Clean cut gentleman like. He mentioned in his bio that he had a young daughter and had attended a HBCU.

“A Capricorn….” she said to herself while studying his profile. She sat and read his profile again, stunned that someone actually had interest in her. A notification alerted her again. She opened it up and read….

“Hey Beautiful, it’s nice to connect with you,” he wrote.

Destiny’s heart fluttered and she smiled. Could this really be the one? Was Kia right after all? He sure did look like her Prince Charming.

“Hi Lenny, nice to meet you,” she wrote back.

She put down her phone and tried to get back to the email she was previously typing up, but she couldn’t concentrate. Within 5 minutes, she prematurely thought of marrying this man and having his babies. She shook her head to get refocused. She got another notification.

“Let’s go out for a drink tonight if you’re not busy,” Lenny wrote.

Destiny closed out the app and texted Kia.

“I got a date! You’re on auntie duty.”

Later that night…….

Destiny examined herself in the mirror. Her makeup was on point and her butt looked great in her high waisted jeans. She wore a crop top and big gold earrings to compliment them. She was able to get her son to Kia to babysit for the night at the last minute for her date with Lenny. He wanted to meet her uptown at “The Zoo”, a popular bar.

She arrived there just at 9pm sharp to see Lenny waiting for her at the front entrance. He was fine and early. He embraced her with a warm hug.

“I didn’t think you would meet me last minute, but I’m glad you did,” he said, admiring her.

“No problem,” Destiny replied with a smile.

His smell was intoxicating, like warm vanilla and cedarwood. He was clean cut from his hair cut to his fingernails. He wore a crispy white collar shirt and denim jeans, with a perfect smile to compliment the outfit.

“You look beautiful,” he said smiling.

“Thank you,” Destiny replied with a blush.

He moved out of the way for her to walk inside. “Ladies first,” he said.

They found seats at the bar. She could feel his eyes burning in admiration of her slim waist down to her pretty pink toes.

“What are you drinking tonight Miss Lady?” He asked.

“Um...I’ll take a Tequila Sunrise.”

“Top Shelf?” He insisted.

Destiny was taken back. She was impressed by his manners and his exquisite taste. “Yeah sure.” Destiny replied.

He flagged down a petite, light skinned bartender. “Excuse me. We’ll take two Tequila Sunrises, top shelf please,” he ordered. He put a visa card down and said, “I’ll start a tab as well.”

Once the drinks were ordered, he brought his glass up towards Destiny.

“Cheers to a memorable night,” he said.

Destiny hits her glass on his. “Cheers,” she replied seductively looking into his big, puppy dog eyes.

2 drinks later…..

Destiny was feeling more relaxed and a bit tipsy. “So I asked, do you really think black women have a chip on their shoulder all the time? I mean, what he was saying was so one-sided,” Destiny said enthusiastically.

“I can’t believe that man. Black women are Goddesses. You all have been through enough, it’s not a man’s place to cause more stress,” Lenny replied.

“Right!” Destiny paused for a minute. She admired his face and she suddenly felt a hot flash all over her body. She was flustered. His whole personality had her hot.

“What’s the matter?” Lenny asked while lightly touching her thigh. The touch sent a sensation straight to her vagina. She hadn’t been touched in so long. She closed her eyes for a quick 10 seconds and looked down to the ground. She couldn’t believe this was even happening.

“Uh...nothing’s wrong Lenny. It’s just….you’re so…..”

Lenny lifted up her chin towards him and kissed her lips. It felt like they were the only two people in the bar. She no longer heard the music, only her heart beating so fast and strong through her chest.

“I’m so what?” he asked with a smirk on his face.

“You are just perfect.” Destiny chuckled a little. “It’s hard to believe that you are single,” she replied.

Lenny takes a deep sigh. “Yeah well, I’m picky. I want to make sure that the woman I date next is my future wife.”

“Well we are definitely on the same page,” replied Destiny.

Lenny looks down at her drink. “Another one?”

“Uhhhh…” Destiny was already feeling tipsy and knew she had to pick up her son in a few and work in the morning. She wasn’t a spring chicken anymore and knew another drink would cause a “sunshades and advil” type of morning the next day. Before she could answer him, he called on the bartender.

“Excuse me, she’ll take another Tequila Sunrise,” he said.

Destiny wasn’t 100% sure if that was a good move for her, but she figured she’d drink it and be done for the rest of the evening. The bartender was in the middle of making a big drink order for a group of people at the bar already. She nodded her head to acknowledge the order. Destiny figured she could make a quick run to the bathroom to freshen up and possibly splash a little water on her face to cool off before the drink was made.

“I’m headed to the bathroom real quick.”

Lenny licked his lips and stared at hers. “Take your time beautiful,” he replied.

Destiny got down from the high barstool and carefully made her way to the ladies room. She looked back and caught Lenny watching her backside as she walked away. She turned around and smirked. She made sure to give him a show and switched her hips to the beat of the music loudly playing.

When she came back to Lenny, he already had her drink waiting on her with a napkin underneath. She looked at his drink and saw that he barely touched the second one.

“I see you are babysitting,” she said jokingly.

He chuckled. “Nah, I have been just admiring you all night. Been too busy staring at those luscious lips.”

Destiny blushed and looked at her drink again.

“I won’t keep you out long Love. I know it’s a weekday,” he said reassuringly.

Destiny nodded her head and took a sip.

30 minutes later, Destiny was starting to feel the effects of drinking too much. She was half way finished with her drink. “Whew! I feel so good,” she said with a laugh and her body swayed.

“Do you now?” Lenny asked in amusement.

“Yes, I should have not gotten this tipsy on the first date Lenny. I am sorry. I don’t normally drink alcohol. I’m a wine type of chick.”

“It’s all good. Let me walk you to your car then,” he said.

Destiny grabbed her purse and suddenly the room started spinning. She sat there on the bar stool for a second to gain her composure. Lenny got down and grabbed her hand. It felt like her legs were rubber bands and she couldn't feel her face. He basically held her up to walk out of the bar. A man standing outside yelled at them.

“Aye, is she ok bruh?!” He asked concerned.

Lenny kept walking with Destiny’s arm on his shoulder. “Yeah man, she just drank too much tonight.”

“I hope she’s not driving,” the man said sternly.

Lenny walked them both to his car. “No, we drove together man, thanks.”

They arrived at his shiny black BMW in the gravel parking lot of the bar. Destiny could hear the conversation between Lenny and the random man outside but couldn’t respond much. She felt horrible, almost like she could collapse right there outside of the car. Lenny opened up his passenger door where she plopped down on his leather seat. He got inside and monitored her a bit.

“You shouldn’t drive sweetie. I’m going to take you back to my place so you can sleep this off.”

Destiny mumbled “ok” and closed her eyes. That was the last thing she remembered.

3:48 am…….

Destiny awoke to a sore vagina and naked in a dark room. She jumped up and gasped in shock. She turned to her left and Lenny was asleep next to her.

“OMG!” She yelled startling Lenny to wake up beside her.

He slowly put his arm around her lower waist and kissed her back. He then attempted to penetrate her again from the side. Destiny jumped up out of the bed in the still dark room.

“Where are my clothes?” She demanded with a shaky voice. Lenny was still laying in bed calmly.

“Relax,” he said.

Destiny asked again, this time raising her voice. “Where are my clothes!!”

Lenny sat up in bed and cut on a lamp sitting on his nightstand. He looked at her in disgust.

“What’s your problem?”

Destiny didn’t answer. She spotted her entire outfit in a pile on the floor in front of the bed and proceeded to put them on.

“You wanted to come over to sleep off your drunkenness and that’s what you did after we had sex,” he said reassuringly.

“I did not want to have sex with you like this Lenny and you know it. Something doesn’t feel right about this,” she replied back while searching for her phone.

“You wanted to sleep with me, don’t front,” he said.

Destiny looked at him in disgust. The Prince Charming that she connected with at the bar was no longer present, it was a mask he wore. He never had her best interest at hand. He had an agenda, and he conquered it and in return destroyed her. She glanced around his room. It was well kept, like the energy he gave off. High end furniture and expensive art graced his bedroom. His King sized bed was fitted in Egyptian sheets and quality throw pillows. She knew he was a powerful man, one who had a corporate job, a fancy car, and an immaculate house, but what he didn’t have was true authenticity, so he had to drug her. His ego wouldn’t allow him to watch her get in her car and go home after their date. His eagerness to have her most prized possession made him disregard the classy, respectable Queen she was. She felt defeated, dirty, and powerless. His abuse changed her forever, with an eternity of regret and anger to follow.

Lenny got out of bed and walked naked and confidently to the bathroom as if he were a Lion in the jungle who just caught his prey. “I’ll call you a Lyft,” he said nonchalantly.

This story is dedicated to all of the victims of Bill Cosby, who had to watch their predator be released from prison on drug facilitated sexual assault, rape and sexual battery. This is also dedicated to all those who are victims of anyone who has taken your prized possession from you. Noone deserves to be raped, sexually assaulted, abused, molested, and/or inappropriately touched in any manner. The stigma of powerful people being the abuser and this being ok is sickening. I pray all victims find healing and strength, one day at a time, we can change this narrative.

#daterape #billcosby #sexualassault #rape #tequila #dating #women #blackwriters

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ebthecelebrity · 3 years

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The Bean Boozled Challenge. Check me and my super star son out on his YouTube channel.

#Beanboozled #beanboozledchallenge #mysonshine #braylonssweetlife #youtube

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ebthecelebrity · 3 years

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Dear Homophobic Parents....

Last Sunday, I was in the kitchen preparing a meal and anticipating Black Excellence on BET. It’s been many years since I watched a BET Awards Show. I had a nostalgic moment. I remembered watching the BET Awards with my parents and being in amazement of the live performances. I reminisced seeing the sexiness of the Black Woman’s curvy shape in beautiful attire and lusting over the masculinity of Black Men who came to either rap poetry or swoon R&B. This Sunday was no different than the other Sundays in the past. Now, as a parent, I was excited to relive those moments with my 9 year old son.

We were about two hours into the BET Awards show after eating dinner and dancing to the latest hit songs and my one and only son was talking my ears off in excitement about the music and the performers. He was amazed at Black Excellence as I was at his age. I poured another glass of Ciroc and pineapple juice when I heard the announcer say, “Next Up, Lil Nas X!” I immediately felt some type of way. It was the way that a mother bear reacted when her baby cubs were in danger. The way that a mother raised hell at the school when she felt her child was being mistreated. The way that a mother takes up for her child who was bullied for being different. The way that a mother watched over her child at a playground. I didn’t know what this feeling was, but I felt it was to protect his innocent ears and eyes.

I was no stranger to Lil Nas X and his recent transformation. His first musical hit “Old Town Road” serenaded my son’s ears two years ago and it was a bop! I even liked it. All the children around the world kept that song on repeat and helped Lil Nas X rise to fame. Since then, without my son’s knowledge, Lil Nas X’s appearance changed. I watched him announce his homosexuality, the infamous “Satanic Shoes”, and the music videos that slowly but surely got a little…..weirder. My son joyfully announced that he was ready to see Lil Nas X.

“Lil Nas X! Yes! I love his music Mom!”

I remained quiet as I didn’t know how to handle how I felt about my son seeing him perform. It wasn’t that I didn’t want my son to be educated about homosexuality, I just wasn’t prepared to discuss it. My adorable curly haired son didn’t know anything about homosexuality, honestly, I just kept him away from it. I knew after a shocking performance that Lil Nas X probably had in store, it was time for the conversation. The BET Awards Show resumed, and Lil Nas X showed up on our TV screen, draped in gold Egyptian attire with gold eyeshadow to match. I remained silent, looking over at my son every 5 seconds to catch any facial expressions.

At first, the performance I felt was PG-13 and I continued to tune in, watching Lil Nas X’s hips sway to the music. It was still awkward silence in the living room between us. My son was zoomed into the whole performance as this was the first time he heard the song, “Montero (Call Me By Your Name).” 3 minutes and 30 seconds into the performance, Lil Nas X was concluding his performance with a grand finale, which I knew would be shocking because let’s be real, that’s who he was. I watched him grab the back of a back up dancer’s head and engage in a deep french kiss with him. That move sent out a panic scream from my son. I looked over and witnessed him turning his eyes away and yelling, “Ewwww.” He repeatedly asked me “Why did he kiss a man? Mom, why did he do that?” At this moment, I knew that I had sheltered my child or was it that I avoided this moment? I wanted to sink into my recliner and continue sipping my ciroc and pineapple.

Two of my best friends are gay and proud of it. I have a few other friends who are tri-sexual or maybe they are bi-sexual. Let’s just say they have dealt with the same sex and have no true preference. Either way, I never judged them or their actions. I just loved seeing them happy with whomever they loved, shit, I didn’t care if they were with a fucking dog. I am the last person to be homophobic, but watching my son feel distressed in seeing two men kiss on television triggered me. I had to ask myself why. If I were alone watching Lil Nas X’s performance, I wouldn’t have cared. It was something about watching his eyes, watching something that disturbed him. I didn’t know if I felt upset or if I felt annoyed. It just hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn’t prepared.

I cut the volume down on the television, which was now on a commercial and tried to calm him down. For the past 9 years, I’ve only exposed and taught him that Mommy and Daddy love each other, that Mommy loves men, and that Men and Women deserve to be together to reproduce and make offsprings as I’ve done with him. At this point, I felt I failed as a parent who should have been exposed this to him sooner. Let’s face it, the internet would have taught him before I did. Had I really been hiding homosexuality and refraining from discussing it? Sadly, yes, I have.

“Braylon, some people love others who are the same sex as them. Does that make sense?” I asked him.

“Two men together is disgusting!” He exclaimed.

I quickly corrected him. “No, it’s just not what you like, but it’s not disgusting. People have a preference in life, just like you do,” I said.

“I don’t like Lil Nas X anymore Mom,” He pouted.

At this point, I knew he needed time to digest this and I didn’t want to upset him anymore. I proceeded to let him know that same sex relationships are ok and if he doesn’t want to be in one that is ok too.

The rest of the night with us watching The BET Awards was a little mute and cumbersome. I knew that shocked feeling as a child so well. I felt the same way when I saw porn for the first time. I may have even been his age. I just remember feeling disgusted and curious all at the same time. It made me look at the male species differently. It made me curious on why people had sex and how it made them feel. The thin line of the mind of children can be easily influenced or easily nonjudgmental. This was why I felt a certain way about the performance. I tried to decipher which one was Braylon. Would he want to experience kissing a little boy now? Or would he not be judgemental, allowing people to freely love and live their life?

It’s been over a week now since the infamous BET Awards. I wouldn’t change a thing about our experience, but my mindset as a parent. How could I continue to go on allowing my son to see hetrosexual couples kiss on television and not feel as triggered as I did with Lil Nas X? No longer would I allow that to happen. No longer would I remain silent and conceal homosexuality around him. He deserves to be educated. With Pride Month ending recently, that moment was a life changing eye opener to raise my kid with the knowledge of LGBTQ and the issues that also surround the lifestyle. Discrimination, mental illness, depression, suicide, anxiety, and many more is faced everyday. Wow, what a humbling moment this was for me as a parent to shift my way of thinking.

Dear Homophobic Parents, you may not be homophobic with your gay friend, neighbor, coworker, aquaintance or family member but your biases regarding your child can no longer be tolerated. I encourage you to raise your young Kings and Queens to know that homosexuality is as normal as heterosexuality. Teach them that God is love. Yes, protect your children at all costs, but to shy away from these conversations only hurts them in the long run. Don’t be silent about the realities of the world we live in. Would you still love your child if they came out to you as gay? If you answered yes, then you already have the right mindset. To the Black Community, who continues to accept the sexual predator, but denies the gay family member, STOP THIS SHIT! To the LBGTQ Community, continue to live your truth and take PRIDE in that!

#homosexuality #gay #lbgtq #betawards #lilnasx #parenting

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ebthecelebrity · 3 years

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Sometimes the Grass is Greener on the Other Side Because it’s Fake

Introducing Brenda and Her Insecurities…...

Brenda stares at herself in a full length mirror. She turns to the left then to the right, eyeing her booty. She sucks her teeth and sighs. “Ugh, why did my mama give me her flat ass!” She walks off in disgust and plops down on the sofa. She grabs her phone and opens up Instagram and the first picture she sees on her timeline is a chocolate IG Model in an orange bikini on a yacht. She clicks on her profile and scrolls only to see more half naked pictures of this model’s voluptuous shape.

“Her ass can’t be real,” she mumbles to herself.

She clicks off and continues to scroll her timeline. She sees her high school classmate with his two kids playing at a park, a photo of some cute puppies, and The Shaderoom’s petty commentary on rapper Bow Wow. She cuts her phone off and walks into the bedroom to find her boyfriend, Keith, laying on the bed scrolling on his phone. He was zoned in.

“What are we doing today?” she asks. He continues to scroll his phone.

“Keith!”

“Huh?” he replies startled.

“What are we going to do today? Did you want to go out to eat at that new restaurant off 49th Ave?”

“I mean...I thought we could hit up the beach later. You know, pack the cooler with some drinks and maybe get something to eat out there.” Keith replies.

Brenda shrugs her shoulders. “Okay, I guess that’s cool.”

Keith smiles and grabs on her leg playfully. “Put on that sexy swimsuit you bought last summer, you know the black one.”

Brenda rolls her eyes. “Naaaaah, I’ll just put on some shorts. I’ll save that one for another time,” she replies.

She walks out the bedroom and goes back to the full length mirror and analyzes her body again. Truth is, she didn’t like it and definitely not in a bikini. She imagines her pancake shaped booty and A cupped breast looking pitiful in the midst of DD’s and Georgia peaches flaunting in the hot sun. Keith tells her all the time that she is beautiful, that he loves her body, but she just can’t seem to believe him. They’ve been together for two years but till this day, there are many times that she caught his eyes wandering. The beach was just a playground for her feelings to get played with under his dark shades. She truly resents going there but in order to keep the peace this Saturday, she agrees to his suggestion.

“I think my butt getting big, butt getting big, butt getting big…..” The song loudly blasts out of the bedroom. “Buss it, buss it, buss it, buss it….” Brenda silently listens to Keith watch “The Buss It Challenge” on his phone. It’s the new tik tok dance challenge where women appear raggedy looking at first with bonnets, pajamas, no makeup, etc. and then they drop down and twerk in the camera made up with hair, makeup and form fitting clothing. Brenda knew you had to have something to twerk in order to participate. She saw women of all races do the challenge and pop their ass on the gram, gaining likes and lust. She heard whatever video Keith was watching loop in replay three times. Before she knew it, a tear rolled down her right cheek. She quickly wipes it away.

It’s been two weeks since Keith and Brenda’s beach outing. Brenda is now sitting in an exam room, waiting to be seen by a doctor. She nervously tugs at her shirt and looks around the room. A few seconds later, a short gray haired doctor walks in and introduces himself.

“Brenda London?” He asks.

Brenda nods her head. “Yes.”

“Hi, I’m Dr. Castlerock. Nice to meet you. What brings you in today?”

Brenda takes a deep breath and replies, “Well, I want a consultation on a Brazilian Butt Lift.”

On the drive back home, she calls Keith.

“I scheduled it for August 16th,” she says.

“Brenda, why would you do this to yourself? I told you, I love every inch of you. It’s unnecessary man.”

She could sense the disappointment in his voice. “I don’t like every inch of me Keith! Why can’t you just support me?”

“I want to support you in everything you do, but this is not it. Where is your self love?” he replies.

“I got self love, and that’s why I’m doing it.”

“So you’re really just going to disregard how I feel about your natural body? Don’t I tell you all the time how beautiful you are?”

Brenda remained silent.

“And what about the cost? Isn’t it expensive?” He asks.

“I have cashed out my 401K.” she replies.

“Wow.” Keith replies.

“Listen, my butt has bothered me my whole life. I want to be the woman you lust after on Instagram. I want to be the bad bitch in the bikini!” Brenda cries. “You say you love my natural body, but you’ll love this even more.”

“Aight Brenda, do you. You’ve made up your mind. I just don’t understand, and I never will. I don’t lust after those females. I lust after you. I love you.” Keith replies.

Brenda bits her bottom lip and holds back tears. “I got to focus on the road Keith. I’ll see you when I get home.”

They both disconnect the call and Brenda lifelessly stares out the windshield of her car.

It’s now August 21st and Brenda can’t sit, drive, properly shower, or even have sex. She’s currently lying on her stomach on the couch, watching tv in a compression garment to help reduce swelling and discomfort. This week has consisted of strong pain meds, tears and a little regret. Even with his disapproval, Keith agreed to be her caretaker for the next two weeks. He walks out the kitchen area and hands her a small bag of Lay’s potato chips.

Brenda grunts in discomfort while lifting up off the couch a little to grab them. “Thanks”, she says.

Keith looks at her in an emotionless stare. “I got to make a few runs. You good?” he asks.

“Uh yeah, how long will you be out?” Brenda replies.

“I’m not sure.” Keith grabs his fitted cap from the back of the bedroom door and walks towards the front door.

“Okay, well be sa…” Before Brenda could get out “safe”, he had already slammed the door and walked out. The past few months leading up to the surgery had been difficult between them two. It’s like all the love and admiration Keith had for her went out the window. They had not really been intimate and he refused to discuss the BBL. Brenda yearns to get the man she fell in love with two years ago back. She feels that as soon as her recovery is here within a week or so and he sees her new curvy ass, they will bounce back. He will not be able to keep his hands off her. She smiles while envisioning the make up sex they will soon have and how things can get back to normal. Her phone rings. It’s her best friend, Sadie.

“Hey girl, what’s up?” Brenda answers.

“Girl….” Sadie reponses with a pause.

“What?” Brenda sits her upper body up in attention.

“I just saw Keith with a bitch.”

“Say what?!” Brenda tries to get up off the couch but suddenly feels a sharp pain in her upper left thigh. “Owww oh my God.”

“Take it easy girl, I did not want to call you with this shit, but you know I took pics of the evidence. Sending the pics now.” Sadie assures.

Brenda’s phone alerts with the text message. She quickly opens it up and clicks on the picture of Keith and a random girl hugged up outside of a gas station. Her mouth drops open and she’s in disbelief. The random woman has the biggest smile on her face while he holds her close and has both of his hands palming her booty. Sadie yells the words right out of Brenda’s own mouth.

“How the hell is he going to cheat on you with a flat booty bitch?!”

Introducing Trevor and His Enviness…..

“Aye excuse me Sir, can you take this pic for me real quick?” Trevor hands his iphone X to a stranger walking by who agrees to snap a pic of him in front of a silver 2020 Mercedes Benz S 560. It’s valet parked outside of the Ritz Carlton Hotel downtown. The man snaps the pic of Trevor and hands him back the phone. Trevor looks at the pic for a hot second and smiles.

“Thanks man,” Trevor says.

The man nods his head and replies, “No problem bro, that’s a nice whip you have!”

Trevor is a little startled by the compliment but replies back. “Uh yeah man thank you.”

“Those are going for like $100k. I’m sure it rides nice.” The man stares at the car in admiration.

Trevor nodded his head in agreement. “Oh yeah man, it’s laced out inside.”

“So dope, I’m trying to get like you one day bro,” the man says. “Take care and stay up.”

“You too.” Trevor replies.

Trevor waits until the man walks out of view and walks the opposite direction. He hurriedly walks two blocks down the street and stops at the bus station. He takes a seat on the bench and pulls out his phone. He pulls up the picture of him in front of the Benz on Instagram and captions “Just dropped 100 bands on the new whip. Talk to me nice.” He clicks upload and chuckles to himself. The city bus loudly pulls up and comes to a screeching halt at Trevor’s feet. He jumps up off the bench and gets on it to go home.

That next morning, Trevor wakes up to a loud vacuum outside his bedroom door. The door bursts open. He jumps up startled and rubs the cold out of his squinted eyes.

‘Really Mom?!” he says groggily.

His mom frowns her face and rolls her eyes. “It’s time to get up!” she says loudly over the vacuum. Trevor sighs loudly and rolls over to the edge of the bed. His mom, Cynthia cuts off the vacuum and looks at him annoyingly.

“If you don’t get a job by the end of this week, you gotta get out,” Cynthia says.

“This week?” Trevor asks, confused.

“This week is what I said. All you do is sleep in late and eat up all my damn food,” she replies.

“Ahhh man. Mom, you got to give me a little more time than that. Getting a job doesn’t happen overnight.”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you are 30 years old still living with me and unemployed. You are not too good to drop them fries at Wendy’s down the street. I told you they were hiring last week and you still refused to put in an application,” Cynthia says. “I’ve had enough!”

Trevor sucks his teeth. “Man, I’m not working at no Wendys. I’ll figure something out,” Trevor replies.

“You got 5 days and I mean it,” Cynthia replies. She angrily cuts the vacuum back on and rolls it out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Trevor stares at the wall for a minute, in an effort to fully wake up. He has no desire to work at Wendy’s. In his eyes, it was not good enough. He decided to get up and look online for a job. He pulls his laptop out of the closet and begins his search with indeed.com.

“Hmmm...desired salary range? $75,000 a year will do,” He says to himself.

Upon clicking search, he finds a lot of great paying jobs with benefits but the catch 22 is, they all require previous experience. Trevor has a high school diploma. After failed attempts to get into very prestigious universities, he was unable to secure an acceptance. His mother begged him to attend the local Community College to start off with his electives, but he felt that was not good enough. Trevor had dreams of becoming a journalist. He enjoyed writing and he used to record his own radio show for leisure. In High School, his grades were just not up to par for some of the schools he applied for. This discouraged him, and he never thought twice about going back to school. That was 12 years ago, and he has since worked dead end jobs and has yet to move out of his mother’s house. He became somewhat of a hermit, not engaging with friends and family. He secludes himself from everyone. His social media shows that he is a successful businessman residing in Atlanta, but in reality, he is broke, depressed and his mother still makes his bed.

After 30 minutes of searching online, his frustration grows and he slams his laptop closed. There is no way he can work at Wendy’s. He fears that his fabulous lifestyle would be exposed by running into anyone he knew. He opens up his Instagram and looks at his profile.

“532 likes?! Haha, that’s crazy,” he says to himself while admiring the photo of him in front of the luxury Benz from last night. He then scrolls his timeline to find a picture of a black suit and purple tie that someone had laid out on a plush hotel bed. He screenshots the picture and opens his profile up again. He captions “Rise and Grind. #GoodMorning.” and uploads it. He then puts his phone down and prepares to take a shower. He opens up his dresser drawer and pulls out a pair of blue boxer briefs. They had a hole in the back.

“Damnit!” He yells and slams the drawer.

Three days have now passed and Trevor is in his room playing his Playstation. His mother, Cynthia busts in his room.

“It’s Thursday young man and I’m not playing with you. Have you found a job?” She demands.

Trevor doesn’t take his eyes off the game and responds. “I’ve applied to a few places Ma, can you give me some time? I can’t just find a job in a week like that.”

“You’re lazy! And I want you out tomorrow! You better go stay with your cousin or something. I am no longer taking care of a man child,” she replies.

Trevor pauses the game.

“Ma, are you really going to kick out your only son? I’m really trying.”

Cynthia throws an empty box at him. “Pack some things. It’s time for you to grow up,” she replies.

She walks out the room. Trevor just knew he couldn’t live with his cousin Maurice. He still owes Maurice $500 from weeks ago. He truly had nowhere to go. Finally, years of misleading people with untruthful social media posts, borrowing money without repayment, not willing to work low wage jobs, and trying to keep up with the Jones’ has suddenly come crashing down. In desperation, he opens up his computer and types in “PPP Loan.” He reads where he will need a legitimate business to qualify and knows the consequences. This fictitious lifestyle has pretty much caught up with him but now he’s desperate. He wants the car, the money, the clout…. He clicks on the SBA website and begins to fill out an application.

#BeGrateful Fake WaterYourGrass FakeGrass IG BBL SelfLove

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ebthecelebrity · 3 years

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Did y’all miss me? Well I missed you. #NewBlog coming this Saturday. “Sometimes The Grass is Greener Because it’s Fake.”

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ebthecelebrity · 4 years

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Finding Rest

#BibleApp rest sunday

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ebthecelebrity · 5 years

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I'm just a black woman with a lot to say. turned 4 today!

I had no idea that I started my blog 4 years ago on September 11th, 2015. Thanks to everyone who has shown me love.

#tumblr birthday #tumblr milestone

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ebthecelebrity · 5 years

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note to self: you are an intelligent woman. forgive yourself for all the times you were stupid and naive. you are a woman of heart. forgive yourself for the times you were soft when you should have been hard.

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ebthecelebrity · 5 years

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When We Changed the “er” to “a”, Did It Really Matter?

The windows were down, the music blasting and we were just vibing! The bond between a son and mom is just unexplainable. We shared the same taste in music and undoubtedly he was fly. I mean, he’s MY son. This was the norm. Music was our life. If I was not playing “The Groove” or “The Joint” on Sirius Radio, I was blasting Trap Music. I had been listening to Trap Music with my son since he was in my womb. Something about trap music ignited this aggressive proudness in a black person’s soul. Being BLACK in AMERIKKA was dangerous as fuck, but it was a privilege. Yes, a privilege. We held hundreds of years in struggle within our bloodline with skin of beautiful, melanated gold. Our African countries embodied deep, majestic culture with gorgeous diamonds and exotic landscape. Our fashion, our music, our infamous shea butters and braided crowns…..our full lips, our bushy afros and soulful cuisine……our ebony eyes, our thick, shapely bodies…..being Black had always been a privilege as I learned we were the original Kings and Queens.

We’re in the car, speeding down highway 485 and the trap drums hit our soul. I immediately turned the volume up and snapped my fingers. The feeling is unexplainable. My son is in the backseat turnt all the way up. I imagined how Corporate America blasted trap music before heading to work in the am, spiritual beings blasted trap music while saging their homes, and lovers blasted trap music after smoking a blunt together and fucking like animals. Trap music was essential to Black Culture. It was essential to American Culture honestly. My 7-year-old son starts reciting the lyrics in the back seat. I’m impressed with his performance skills. He was so damn smart that he knew when to NOT curse. He would strategically pause at any curse word and continue rapping flawlessly. I watched him from the rearview mirror and nodded my head in agreement.

“Met all these niggas, they sweeter than Sadie”

My mouth dropped. He said niggas. The fact that he knew all the socially offensive profanity to avoid but NOT “niggas” was a little confusing. Or was it confusing? I instantly scolded him to not use the word in fear that he would use it at the wrong time and place. Like school. I didn’t have the time nor energy to explain to his teachers that “nigga” is a word majority of the black community used in our vocabulary around friends and family. I didn’t want to explain how he could have easily picked this up in our music or in our movies. Hell, it could have easily been me too.

How is this word historically offensive to society but not to Black America? Simple. We turned a negative, degrading word used to dehumanize us since the very beginning of our existence in America to a positive, uplifting one to acknowledge each other in our own unique way, like Ebonics. Is it positive? Is it uplifting? Hmmm if you are black, you can be the judge but I thought heavily about this on the rest of the ride home. We definitely changed the game and dropped the “er” and added that “a” to compensate, but does the hurt and pain truly go away by using this word that every white person who is a lover of trap music says secretly anyway?

I am quick to say “nigga” in a lot of scenarios. When a good friend that I haven’t spoke to in a while calls, I sometimes answer the phone with a smile on my face “What’s up nigga?” When that black coworker who I’ve bonded with brings me breakfast or some free food from a meeting provided that day, I may say, “My nigga, thank you!” When I talk about how in love I am with my man to my best friend, I call him “My nigga.” When I’m joking with my Uncle and I mention family members, I call them “niggas.” When I’m at an amazing party and the vibe is right, I just may say I had a good time with “them niggas.” This word gets used almost daily. This same word that is supposed to enrich the black race as we’ve changed the last two letters, I also use when I’m angry. Niggas can be used in a negative connotation at any given moment. I can call someone a “bitch nigga”, “dumb nigga”, “stupid nigga”…. the list goes on and the jargon is heavy in trap music.

So I started thinking about how to possibly even turn the word around completely for the new generation of our children. I thought about my son who was extremely intelligent, opposite of the definition of “nigger”. Did I really want him to be labeled as a “nigga” for the rest of his life from other niggas? Not really. I remember hearing about the word “Negus.” Actually at 35 years of life, I was first introduced to the word negus last year. Upon doing my research, NEGUS is a noun derived from the Ethiopian Semitic root, meaning, “to reign.” This in my opinion was so important to educate myself on, as I wanted to start changing my vocabulary for myself and for my seed. I am a true believer in the power of the tongue and aimed to speak positivity in all aspects of life. The word was shockingly close to the sound of the word Nigger/Nigga, yet had a more influential and positive meaning than the other two. Pronounced “Neh-Goose”The word had been used Biblically and in other literature to represent “King” or “Emperor.” Our First Christian King of the World was in 320 AD and his name was King Negus Ezana. Nigist = Queen.

WHY haven’t we used this amongst each other was mind-boggling! I continued to do more research on this Powerful and Historic word, to realize that many rappers felt the same way I did. Kendrick Lamar and Public Enemy’s Chuck D have been urging other rappers to start the movement. If you listen to Kendrick Lamar’s “i” off his album, “To Pimp a Butterfly” you will see that he has been woke and trying to educate us.

“Well, this is my explanation straight from Ethiopia/N-E-G-U-S definition: royalty; King royalty – wait listen/N-E-G-U-S description: Black emperor, King, ruler, now let me finish/The history books overlook the word and hide it/America tried to make it to a house divided/The homies don’t recognize we been using it wrong/So I’ma break it down and put my game in a song/N-E-G-U-S, say it with me/Or say no more/Black stars can come and get me.” ~ Kendrick Lamar

Knowledge is Power. Please educate yourself Neguses and Nigists. We are worth so much more. Let’s change the narrative.

#Negus #nigist #king #queen #Emperor #Empress #Nigga #Ruler #TrapMusic #History #Ethiopean

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ebthecelebrity · 5 years

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Don’t Let Mercury Retrograde Get You F*cked Up!

With the Mercury Retrograde in effect until July 31st, I have definitely been quieter. This is the dreadful time of the year where planet Mercury moves in an opposite direction to planet Earth. Mercury is the planet associated with Communication. As a major believer in astrology, I have always been intrigued with the planets and stars and am a big believer that we are balls of energy walking on earth.

Energy never lies.

With the retrograde miscommunication, technical errors, and angry verbal blow-ups are expected. This is the time to OBSERVE, NOT ABSORB. If you observe the energy around you, you don’t have to absorb none of it. Remember, every action doesn’t deserve a reaction. With this being said, over the past week, I have been observant and really shaking my damn head at the things I am seeing with grown ass adults. I mean, do I really have to write this article on etiquette? Why yes, yes I do. Somewhere, we lost our integrity and human empathy. From childish social media posts, petty family members and high school equivalent drama at work, the retrograde’s energy is suffocating me! It could very well be the energy bouncing off the retrograde, or it could simply be the lack of decent manners.

I wanted to share 8 etiquette rules that I live by. Remind you, I am only 36 years young and I have a lot to learn. Some of these, I, too, must remember and never step outside of the lines of respect. No one is perfect. If you are over 30 years old and you have to be reminded of these, it’s time to sit down, self reflect and repair your behavior.

1. When dropping a friend/lover/family member off at their home, wait until they have fully unlocked their door and went inside their house before leaving. I can’t tell you how much this bothers my spirit. It screams, “IDGAF if you truly get home safe or not.” A similar situation I had to learn from was when I was in my early 20s. I dated a guy who lived in a not so great part of town. After a night of clubbing, drinking excessively and even sexual relations, this guy would carelessly fall asleep. I would too sometimes but then realize I had to wake up to head home as it was still dark outside. This guy would never wake up, causing me to venture outside alone. My first pet peeve with this is if you can’ t handle your alcohol, don’t overindulge and leave your date to fend for themselves. I would always say a silent prayer that once I walked outside to my car no one would be hiding behind some bushes to kidnap or rob me. This behavior is inexcusable. Always make sure your loved one is fully in the house before driving off. I am not only discussing this as something to be aware of in bad neighborhoods, but what if that person lost their keys and their phone was dead?

2. Please don’t talk loudly on the phone in public. Okay, we have ALL done this. Sometimes you are knee deep into a conversation that just can’t be finished when you walk inside the store, however, to be loud and obnoxious is NOT the business. The other day my son and I were in Food Lion picking up a few groceries. I was strategically looking at the barbeque sauces. Reading the back of each bottle with the goal to find the one with the least amount of artificial ingredients and no high fructose corn syrup. Two young girls came into the store and were engaged in a phone conversation via face time with someone. “Ayeeee! It’s a hot girl summer girl! Turn up! Drink something!” I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Then, the worst happened, they strolled right down the sauce aisle where I casually stood. The loud laughter, yelling and inappropriate conversation almost sent me over the edge. Mind you, it’s a place and a time to turn up. Hell, I still partake in a light turn up periodically. As we age, many of us find perfect peace in the comfort of our home. We dread leaving home to visit the grocery store, hair salon, barbershop, riding public transportation, doctor’s office, etc due to this very reason. It’s instant anxiety. I understand that not all public places are quiet, but it would be a lot more enjoyable if we all respected each other’s peace in any environment. PS: It’s still a hot girl summer though, but can we leave the grocery store out of it? Thanks Megan Thee Stallion J

3. Call before you stop over someone’s house. As stated before, your home is your haven; therefore, if you see someone pop up in the driveway without a prior notice, proceed to ignore the doorbell. Now, back in the day, this may have been common as the development of technology left room for unexpected guests. Now in the 21stCentury, we communicate via phone or text. You can also send a dm, type it in a status update, or email the other party. There are too many ways to communicate a visit to show a lack of respect of popping up. The next time you even think this is a good idea, ask yourself if the other party possibly worked a long shift, has to cook dinner for their family, has extensive house chores or may be trying to find the energy to do homework with a young child. To selfishly barge into someone’s structured day without notice, even to drop off an item cannot be tolerated.

4. Never go to a party empty handed. Please do not be this person! I don’t know a single soul that is not on a budget. Even the wealthiest of people enjoy Wendys “4 for 4” and clips coupons. Any working, middle class individual knows that throwing any type of party can be costly. You have to brace yourself for the upcoming energy bill after your summer party for the amount of air condition that you provided the guests. Freeloaders are not welcome in 2019 and beyond. This shit stops TODAY! If you know someone who does this, it’s time to take his or her name off the guest list going forward. I sit back and am puzzled on how can people show up to an event held in the comfort of another’s home and just “show up.” Unless the host advises you that you don’t need to bring anything, that would be the only time to show up empty handed. It can be as small as a bag of ice or paper cups to as large as a sheet cake or a bucket of fried chicken. My go to is always a bottle of wine. You can never go wrong with that. Worst case scenario, no one drinks it and you finish the bottle yourself.

4. If you borrow money and it took you longer than expected to pay that person back, give a little interest. Okay, hear me out. Many of us have loaned a close person some money and they haven’t been able to pay us back in time. We thank God that we are able to help, but there is also that possibility that your own finances get messed up in the process. I have witnessed people getting a loan from someone who are awaiting their loan to be paid back. It could be as little as $30, which may be the monthly Internet bill. If we were all able to acquire a loan from major banks, we’d all be paying interest anyway.

5. Never put your phone on the table while eating a meal with a guest. I’ve struggled with this the most. I’ve learned that sacred time is just that, SACRED. After you’ve snap chatted a pic of your delicious plate of food, place your phone in a purse or pocket and engage. In the constant need of communication and the fast paced social media interactions, having the phone on the table screams that the phone is your guest, and not your physical one. Taking a break off technology for some old fashioned conversation is the new wave. As soon as the meal is over, then you can check the 56 likes and notifications you received on the pics of your crab legs.

6. Don’t try to build a romantic relationship over the text messages. Tinder, Bumble, POF, and the many other dating applications have made it very convenient to meet potential mates over the phone, but once you have had that icebreaker, what’s next? This is a lazy approach to continue to court someone you are very interested in via text. How would you know that you hate the way they chew without more in person interaction? I understand that sometimes many introverted people urge to date too. Being standoffish and contacting via text message will only cause the other party to look the other way when they find someone who starts actually making plans with them. Getting to know a person takes physical contact, not sex, just physical chemistry. It’s important to see if a person’s energy matches yours. Instead, call and say “I’m making breakfast, come by”, “ face time to ask them how their day went and analyze their facial expressions or plan a weekend date at the park to have some one on one. Actions are proven to show great results in terms of dating and for the life of God, STOP TEXTING “WYD” !

7. Stop asking a Black Woman if she is wearing a wig/weave. * sigh * The fact that I am saying this in 2019 is beyond me. I love to change my hair up, as it gives me a sense of empowerment. I grew up thinking my hair needed to be straightened and while there is nothing wrong with that, I have grown into acceptance of the hair that grows out of my scalp. I worked with a woman who always made a big deal about when I changed my hair. In our 9 am weekly meetings, she would broadcast to the entire staff that I have new hair. I felt all eyes on my scalp, many wondering if it was grown out of my scalp or not. This irritated the shit out of me. I am here to do a job, not to be discussed. Please do not ask a black woman, “Is all that your hair?” You can be another black woman and do this, making it unacceptable. Unless that woman puts the information out there for your curiosity, then please just don’t. Purchasing an additional hairpiece is not anyone’s business. A simple, “Your hair looks great!” compliment will suffice.

8. Never, Ever, Ever, Ever, EVER tell someone they look like they gained weight! This is self explainatory. I don’t have to go any further. Next person who tells me this, WILL get punched in the face.

Now, this is just a few and I am confident there are many many more etiquette practices that we can live by. If you know me personally, this is not a jab at you. It’s simple rules to live by. Let’s make the world a better and more caring place by practicing respect and love at all times. Now, let me go sage my entire house and myself. Time to meditate, pray and just observe. Happy Self Care Sunday!

#mercuryretrograde #pray #planetmercury #energy #planetearth #etiquette #mannerism #spiritual #astrology #mercury

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ebthecelebrity · 5 years

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#BlackMenInTherapy

#BlackMenDontCheat

#BlackMenArePowerful

#BlackKings

#SexyBlackMen

#BlackMenwithBeards

#AlphaBlackMale

#BlackMenMatter

#BlackFathersMatter

#BlackExcellence

#BlackMenAreBeautiful

If you are on social media and you’re a black man or a lover of a black man, you have had to stumble across one of these hashtags. They are some of the most popular hashtags to search a black man. Now while I believe all of these are very true, there’s still that big ass elephant in the room that many black people don’t seem to want to address…….

#BlackMenInTherapy

As a black woman, I haven’t ever talked to a psychologist, EVER. Sad. Here I am, a 36 year old black woman who has survived multiple schools in one year due to the US Army moving our family around; struggled to make friends, toxic friendships, self esteem issues, a divorce, post partum depression, single parenting, a child with behavioral problems, continuously being underpaid at work, many failed relationships, anxiety, being qualified for a job but not able to pass though HR because my name is “Ebony”, etc etc. ETC! Seriously racial discrimination, sexual discrimination, and having to work twice as harder as my white male counterparts has been a struggle throughout my adult life so much. I hardly talk about it because it just feels normal now. The list goes on and on for my black ass, but, can you believe I have never sat and talked to someone?! I sit back and I truly can’t believe it either. One session of therapy could have seriously helped me.

Another reason I never went to therapy is because I was never introduced to it as a child. I love my parents to death and I have no complaints about my childhood whatsoever. They made sure me and my brother never wanted for anything. I had a passport a few months after of my birth by being born overseas and traveled and lived many places. I am very cultured! The sad news is, I believe they never thought I needed counseling and maybe I did. Growing up as a military brat had its perks but it also had its stressors. This surely cultivated into me ignoring my issues and pushing through without talking to anyone about them. Not even my really close friends. I swept that shit under the rug and kept going. I think this is an issue with many black households. Lets face it, counseling is not cheap, but it can be affordable. I witness too many black parents raise their children with the nicest shoes, name brand clothing, and extravagant birthday parties. No one ever invests in counseling though. Some of these kids are a product of abuse, neglect, and just witnessing their parents at their worst. Jordans on their feet, but pain in their heart. What about over 400 years of oppression? Doesn’t that account for anything? Is the crab in the barrel mentality and cold blooded killings of our fellow brothers and sisters account for this? Possibly. SMH The cycle continues….

I met a handsome man at CIAA last year. He was swaggy. NY Hat, Polo on his body, Yves Saint Laurent on his neck and a bottle of champagne in his hand. He was polite but with just the right amount of aggressiveness that made me want to converse with him. Instead of the routine, “May I buy you a drink?”, he insisted with “What are you drinking on?” Upon answering his question, he demanded for the bartender to get me right. I was impressed. His New York accent was also a turn on. A city boy. He was different.

The entire night he made sure my drink was never empty, but he kept his distance. Ladies, you know how men in the club stalk you after they buy you a drink? LOL I WON’T HAVING THAT! He never did but he kept his eye on me though. After a couple glasses of champagne and dancing to rapper, Fabulous, all night, I was coherent enough to give him my phone number. Days after our initial meeting, I just thought it would turn out like the rest of them. You know, the first date out to eat with some chicken wings and maybe I’d continue getting to know him and have sex with him if he kept my attention. Hookup Hell. I didn’t really think nothing much about it. He was pleasant. He was charming. He definitely wasn’t cheap. It took about 6 weeks of me playing cat and mouse, but it finally happened….I agreed to meet him for our first date.

Sitting down to meet him at TGIFs, he complimented me and it was different. It was really genuine. He even had an edible arrangement for me. I was impressed. I hadn’t had a first date like this in so long….I couldn’t remember the last time a man was so attentive. After the first drink, he let everything out the bag. From being shot twice, being a young father, and serving Fed Time….he laid it out on the table for me. It was refreshing. From that moment on, I was never judgmental and I opened up to him too. Hell, I was far from perfect. I continued to see him and learn more and more about the strength he had everyday. He was dealing with many things and he kept me in the loop. One day on the phone I mentioned that I wanted to see him and to my surprise he responded, “I’ll call you after my therapy session.” Therapy? I had no idea. This man was in therapy!

He discussed how he would meet his therapist once a week. He would talk to her about any and everything. Nothing was off limits. You see the scars of his past; he was now determined to not let them hinder his present. I had never dated a man who was currently in therapy. The shit was very foreign to me. Sometimes you just assume that the strength of a black man is just getting through that trauma and making it over to the other side of the storm, towards that rainbow. What we don’t understand is that even Noah needed to build an ark to get through the greatest storm in history. Therapy = Building. Building that safe haven to get through the storm is necessary! It is said that it took Noah 120 years to build that ark, this is contingent to a Black Man needing therapy for a lifetime.

Black Men, put down the extravagant lifestyle until you get your mental in the right. The strippers, the Gucci, the fancy homes, the flashy cars…..put it all down. You can’t take that shit to the grave with you. So many Black Men dealing with abuse: mental and physical. Many have been abused by men. Many are confused on their sexuality and touched inappropriately in church. So many Black Transgender Men being brutally killed and too many over sexualized Black Men using sex for healing. Too many Black Men hating their skin, claiming they are too dark or even too light for society. Self hatred and insecurities flood the Black Man’s mental everyday as he wakes up each morning to look in the mirror and feel he’s not enough. Too many Black Men scarred by their mamas who they witness have multiple kids by many men and who have said “You’re just like your no good daddy.” Too many Black Men without fathers and have no idea what he looks like or where he resides. Too many Black Men mentally abused by Black Women who feel the need to continuously use them for their money, their dick and to call them a “bitch nigga” every 5 minutes. So many Black Men dealing with the loss of a friend or family member who has been gunned down senselessly by another Black Man going through these same issues. Too many Black Kings forgetting their Kings.

Therapy.

My Brooklyn born and raised Man called me one day and bragged about how his therapy session that day consisted of me. To think of a man to discuss me in therapy was probably the highlight of my dating life. I didn’t ask for details. I just knew that from that moment on, I never wanted to leave his side. All the things in the past I insisted I wanted in a man: a gorgeous smile, a cut up body, and gorgeous eyes were now all a distant memory. A Black Man in therapy was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.

#BlackMenInTherapy BlackMen Counseling Dating Trauma SelfLove

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ebthecelebrity · 5 years

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Progression

Tuesday, November 9, 2016

I went out to eat with an old coworker that night and got back home a little late. I quickly gave my son a bath and all I thought about was plopping myself on my black leather sectional and being glued in front of the television. Today was an interesting one. I voted yesterday for one of the most bizarre presidential campaigns in history, well I know for sure in my lifetime. I was so ready for this night to be over and it was already around 10:00 pm. Only a few hours left until this madness was over. This was the night that Americans would figure out which uncanny candidate was going to be our Commander in Chief.

I found myself arguing with a young black man today via social media. He continuously challenged me about how not voting was the best thing black people could do in our times of oppression. So many issues with Black lives and if they mattered flooded my timeline this year. The police shootings and the borderline racist comments from my social media friends just left a damp place in my spirit every time. Every. Time. Every day seemed to have a negative effect on me regarding this racial shit. I grew weary reading about it, thinking about it, and living it. Now, here an ignorant black man wants to rain on my parade about voting. In his eyes, I was the sheep and I wasn’t “woke”, but in my eyes, he was still a slave, living in the 1800s. His analogy of “the white man” incarcerating black men for life sentences and how the “Amerikkkan” conspiracy against black people was still alive just sent me over the edge. My blood boiled as I angrily typed responses to him and his ignorance. Our people died for his right to vote and his ignorance just wouldn’t allow him to. My last comment to him was “Be the change you want to see” and I deleted his instagram friendship with no hesitation. I just had enough.

Getting coffee through the drive through today, I nearly yanked a lady out of her car and gave her the ass whopping of her life due to her extreme rudeness in line. I also found myself considering a harsh, snowy winter in Toronto than being in sunny Florida where I felt there were undercover racist and sexist people walking beside me daily. The American dream of living a good life, being able to travel, creating opportunities for others, and having a sense of brotherhood just seemed foggy in eyesight for me nowadays. The thought of this Presidential campaign just made me sick to my stomach. I had already went through two bottles of wine that week and had two glasses at dinner that night with my coworker.

My 91 year old Great Grandmother voted today. I looked at her picture with so much pride and admiration. The strength of a million black women ran through the blood of my veins at that very moment. This presidential campaign was exhausting to say the least. According to the media, Florida was a toss up state; meaning that the polls could go any way. Republican or Democrat, can we just all be Americans and not be politically segregated? The advertising on the radio was brutal and downright unethical. I would hear about Hilary Clinton calling black children “super predators” and how the Clinton Foundation had disrespected and harmed black people immensely in the past on the radio at 7:05am during my drive to work. At 7:09am, I would hear a similar radio advertisement about Donald Trump and how he mocks black people, how the KKK supports him, and he doesn’t really care about us. At 7:15am, I would witness multiple posts about black lives matter on social media and immediately mentally shut down for the day. It’s only 7:30am you know. This madness consumed my life all day, everyday. I thought America progressed in 2016. Well…..things were about to get more interesting within the next few hours.

It’s 11:00 p.m. I laid down on the couch with a glass of Sweet Red wine. I fumbled for the remote control and turned the television onto CNN. I witnessed our united country as a puzzle piece on television. It was bleeding Republican red. I grabbed my phone to check my Facebook. The timeline was in distress. There was hatred, anticipation, anger, sadness, and just a mixture of uncertainty at this point. People of all color, races, and ethnicities on my friend’s list seemed uncertain. It was a terrifying feeling for me to witness and be apart of. After having a cool night with my old coworker at a restaurant at the beach, I surely didn’t want to come home to this mess. The state of a nation was in a panic and it was the first time in my life that I felt like the world just might blow up at any moment. I guzzled my wine in anxiety.

I was disgusted with the ignorance everywhere. What our country needed was progression. What I needed was progression. At that very moment, I shut down and shut the CNN commentator out. My mind started to race and I just regretted the results in the morning. It was getting late and I had an early morning. I picked up my cell phone and checked my alarm, confirming that it would go off multiple times at 5:00 a.m. I then stared at my cell phone, analyzing what this tool could really do. There were so many capabilities and abilities of such a vital tool in our society. I received a Facebook notification. My fingers swiftly opened up the Facebook application on my phone, almost like I was in need of a hit of drugs. I scrolled down the timeline to be nosey, once again. How could I gain the progression I yearned for with this social media? Simple. Without it. It was time to escape the gripping hands that social media strongly had on my everyday life. There were entirely too many uneducated opinions of people I’ve never met in real life, the brutally insulting memes, the wasteful time of reading paragraphs of nonsense, the pokes, the corny jokes, the horrendous selfies, the ignorant statuses, the derogatory pictures, the lies, the shadiness, the prejudice comments from racists hiding behind a computer, the TMI in statuses, and reading entirely too many misspelled words. Progression. It was time to cleanse the toxic information overload and to reflect on other things that really mattered.

Wednesday, November 10, 2016

I sat outside my job in my car, blasting Rhianna. I just got a text from a good friend that read, “I can’t believe Trump got elected last night.”

To Be Continued.....

#Trump Clinton Hillary ElectionNight Progression Undivided Republican Democrat

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ebthecelebrity · 5 years

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Chicken Wings & Good Sex Ain’t Gonna Cut It.

A lot of single people find themselves praying for a potential spouse after they have went through the awkward stages of getting to know them over the phone, a few dinner dates for chicken wings and drinks, and then swapping bodily fluids. You meet this representative of a person you want to marry, and then BOOM, you are praying to God that they are the one! Sounds familiar, right? It’s the daily cycle of hook up hell when you know damn well, you’re a hopeless romantic. Chicken wings and good sex ain’t gonna cut it. Despite the many untraditional reasons people get married now (financial stability, to have children, for legal rights and benefits, etc.), LOVE still ranks #1. Statistics show that about 9 out of 10 Americans cited love is the reason they want to get married. I ask myself why the divorce rate is so high. Currently, in the United States, 42-45% of marriages end in divorce and this does not include legal separations. What is even crazier is the percentage jumps to 60% for second marriages. So you mean to tell me that after the first failed marriage, your chances of survival with the second one is even slimmer?!

What is the disconnect between when you started dating until marriage that makes a spouse file for divorce? In my short 36 years of life, I’ve witnessed too many couples divorce who have been married for 10, 20, even 30+ years. How could someone wake up every morning for 35 years beside their spouse and up and leave them? It puzzles me, but I hold no judgement. I too, am a product of this demographic as a divorcee. You know that saying, “A couple that prays together, stays together”? Well, do we pray before we jump the broom? No, I’m not talking about during the dating phase when you’ve consumed too many chicken wings and the sex starts to get routine. Do we pray before we even met that mf?!

I’m a huge believer in manifestation. It’s super important to manifest what you want in life, no matter how long the Universe decides to bless you with it. Got to be consistent with it. I was always taught that there is life and death in the tongue and with prayer to the Most High, you can manifest an amazing, dependable, compassionate, patient, and sexy spouse. Yes, I said sexy. I’m not bumping uglies with an ugly, you feel me? I think It’s so important that single people pray for their “future spouse.” You have never met this being, but you are praying for this person’s purpose, their stability, and their own relationship with The Creator to be equally yoked with yours.

This honestly is relatable for everything in life. I find many of us pray when things get bad or rocky. At that time, crying out to God about your desires and needs seems a day late and a dollar short. Here’s an example: Instead of praying, “God please help me receive a financial blessing so I can get some gas because my car is on E”, we should upgrade our prayer to “God, please allow me to continue to prosper at my job so I can get a promotion for financial increase.” The problem is we pray for what we need AT THAT MOMENT. Praying for an increase will allow you to never have to worry about being on E, securing a lot of financial stability in your life. We have to upgrade these prayers, and in advance. Can I get an amen?

#Prayer Boaz ChickenWings Sex Marriage Divorce Manifestation

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ebthecelebrity · 5 years

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#ManCrushMonday

I feel like all my life, I had a crush on someone. Well, from what I can remember since I was 6 years old. It was 1989. I think the first time I saw him, he was performing on Showtime at the Apollo and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He had high energy, he could rap, and he could dance his ass off! MC Hammer. The swag was impeccable with the bigger than life pants and at that very inappropriate age of 6, I couldn’t help put stare at his muscular chest. He was always shirtless and my virgin eyes would fixate on the beads of sweat dripping off it. It wasn’t a sexual crush that I had on him then, hell, I didn’t know I even had a vagina. It was something about that testosterone that caught my estrogen’s attention, and he was so unique. MC Hammer fascinated me. At the same time, I was also fascinated by the rap duo, Salt n Pepa, but it was something about MC Hammer.......

It was official; I was crushing on boys, well, in this case a grown ass man.

MC Hammer dominated the early 90s. He was on a plethora of television commercials, he had a cartoon that aired on Saturday mornings and he was staring in multiple movies. I was in MC Hammer Heaven from 6 – 9 years old. It’s 1992 and one night I see three cuties singing about “Da Munchies” on the BET channel. When I set eyes on Immature also known as IMx, it was a wrap for Hammer. He drifted far away in those balloon pants to a land unknown from then on out. Similar to how my current dating life is like, but that’s a whole other blog I can’t even get into right now lol. This boy band literally consumed my mind and I found myself constantly singing love songs like I had been cheated on for the 25th time by a raggedy 5th grader. Each member in this trio was very different and I had my eyes set on the “bad boy” Romeo. He was the rapper of the crew and the eye patch he wore over his right eye was mysterious. Just like Hammer, he was unique in his own right and this crush lasted for the next 3 years.

It is now 1995 and I had mentally cheated on Romeo with numerous members of young boy bands in my innocent mind. Jordan from New Kids on the Block, Ronnie Devoe from New Edition, Red from Another Bad Creation, and even the guy with the light eyes in Milli Vanilli…..I was swapping out these crushes like drawers. Middle School created an obsessive with Layzie Bone from the popular rap group Bone Thugs n Harmony. It wasn’t until I saw the music video, “Thuggish Ruggish Bone” that I attempted to understand every fast spitting word they said. I equally loved them all, sometimes rotating which member I liked more with each performance, each music video, each magazine spread. If you knew me back in High School, you knew! My adolescent bedroom became a shrine. My parents questioned what the hell was going on and couldn’t understand why I liked these “Thugs.” The crush I had on Layzie Bone became so embedded in my mind that I created a married life with him and 3 kids. My best friend and I just knew we were going to graduate high school, move to Cleveland and have this life! These plans were made at 13 years old. No offense, but there’s no way in hell I’d move to Cleveland now lol.

The solid crush on Bone Thugs n Harmony lasted until well after college. Finally, I started to really date and the crushes became boyfriends. The boyfriend became a husband. The husband became an ex husband. Now here I am, it’s 2019 and I’m knocking at 40’s door. With the take off of social media, you can see the love across the multiple platforms with the hashtag, “ManCrushMonday also known as #MCM.” It’s the social media trend to post pictures and express your affection for your crush on a Monday. Like clockwork, each Monday, I was reminded of everyone’s crush on my timeline. About 90% of them were of their significant other. I started questioning myself, “Who is your crush, Eb?” Looking back, I had never posted a real life #MCM. I was pretty private with my love life, but honestly to get the #MCM post, you had to give me the same feeling I felt when I saw hot fish come out of grease. I wasn’t feeling that with no one. There wasn’t a connection. Would I ever have a #MCM? Shit was depressing. So, I thought back on how my crushes started as a young girl. Never were they truly someone I went to school with, dated, or even personally knew. They were all celebrities.

To get my #MCM started, I began my Mondays with some eye candy. A different celebrity graced my page. I didn’t know a damn thing about their personal life. They could have been a real life asshole for all I knew. They were all finer than frog hair though. Rappers Dave East and Nas, and actor Kofi Siriboe were all exposed on my page. Each week, I fantasized for a brief moment about my celebrity #MCMs and chuckled to myself how they didn’t even know my black ass existed. One Monday, my routine was abruptly disrupted. I thought about posting singer, Trey Songz. I had actually met him in a club years ago and conversed with him. I remember him being as fine as his pictures online and the short conversation sent me floating on cloud 99. I scrolled his Instagram and said to myself, “Bih, Trey don’t know you!” I quickly put my phone down and found myself so deep in thought. “Who does know you, Eb?”

As I sat back and analyzed the consistent men in my life, one stuck out the most. My brother. He was there through all the youthful crushes. At the tender age of 1, my brother was there for MC Hammer. He was 4 when I fell in love with Immature. At 8, he didn’t realize it but I was mentally married to a thug. He was always there, and he always had my back. Being five years apart, we never went to school together but the neighborhood knew I was his sister and he was my brother. Now, here we are…I’m in a mid life crisis and he’s in his prime. At 31 years old, he never was the over protective brother. He gave me just enough space and opportunity to do me. He would be vocal if necessary and I appreciated that. Sometimes the big sister had to let little brother be big brother and there were times he had to counsel me.

He’s my #MCM! Sometimes we single people get caught up in the hype of a fantasy. I’ve been in that hype majority of my life. Loving celebrities who don’t even care about your existence, and ignoring those who do. I want to dedicate my #ManCrushMonday to my brother, Weedee. If I told you his government name I’d have to kill you. He was my Weedee before any of you knew him. I watched him love me from a little brother’s point of view and be there for me when the crushes were nothing but a memory. He’s a stand up guy and if my crush is not even 10% of what he is made of, I am not interested. I challenge all single ladies who participate in weekly #MCMs to utilize your platform and shout out your loved one who is a male that has been CONSISTENT. Many confuse a crush with someone who you have to date or be sexually involved with. No, a crush is someone who you can be intensely infatuated with, without it having to be inappropriate.

I salute you Weedee. Thank you for looking out for me when literally there has been no one I could turn to. Having a crush on someone is fine and all, but having a real life bond for eternity with someone you respect and admire with the same DNA is incomparable. No crush compares to my brother.

#mcm #mancrushmonday #BROTHERS #bonethugsnharmony #mchammer #IMX

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