bad mommi pics

bad mommi pics


Tricky Ass White Boys

     This may come as a surprise to many of you, but it is 2012. We enjoy many freedoms that were not afforded to our predecessors.  On June 12th, 1967, the Supreme Court struck down the decision to convict Richard and Mildred Loving (ironic name, right?) for what we all have the unalienable right to: love.  The couple was facing charges for simply being together; a white man and a black woman in a loving relationship was seen as obscene.  Yet the highest court in the land decided that we should be able to love WHOMEVER we choose.
     And yet I still catch flack and the side eye for dating outside of my race.  Don't get me wrong; I LOVE black men.  That smooth cocoa sun-kissed brown goodness makes my stomach drop and a halo of thick nappy hair atop the head is enough to make me scream.  My son is a beautiful black boy and he was created out of my love for a black man who I still find beautiful even with all our issues. Black men are alright with me. But I have learned through my years and experience to be open to possibilities.

     The truth is I love ALL men; black, white, asian, latino, martian.  If he's fine and nice to me, he's in! It seems to me that it bothers people the most when I am seen gallivanting with someone white.  I have heard all the arguments for "keeping it in the family" and though I respect anyone's decision to stay limited to their own race (though race itself is an imaginary construct built to divide and conquer) I must admit I have fallen victim to Tricky Ass White Boy Syndrome.
     Tricky Ass White Boy Syndrome is a little known disease that is spreading throughout the nation, especially in larger cities such as New York and Los Angeles.  It is rapidly increasing in rates among black women and is highly contagious. This illness is categorized by prolonged glances at fine white guys on public transportation, frequenting areas populated by captivating caucasians such as dive bars and Whole Foods, and keeping movies that contain pleasant looking pale-ones in heavy rotation.  Side effects include dizziness, shortness of breath, and in the most severe cases, buying tickets to see Bon Iver (yeah, I have all of For Emma, Forever Ago downloaded on my Mac).
     Personally, I was diagnosed with this disease back in High School. It was only recently upon discussions with other stricken black women that I have realized I am not alone.  The problem with the disease is not the taunting from friends or the endless odd looks as you try to walk through your hood with your new "boo". It is constantly feeling like no one else sees what you see; all these fine ass white boys walking around!
    Why do we call it Tricky Ass White Boy Syndrome you may ask?  This seems a tad offensive.  Let me assure you reader, it is meant only in love to describe the slight trickery that is involved in luring us into this disease.  You see, traditionally, it has been difficult for white men to talk to black women; we are seen as angry and aggressive because of the media.  Many white men find it a daunting task to approach a beautiful black woman.  The trick is music; music is the unifying medium.
    My disease often goes into remission and I find myself living white boy free for limited amounts of time.  But last year, the disease came back with a vengeance upon meeting the most dangerous of strains: the Tricky Ass White Ginger (damn gingers!)  My fascination with his hair (it was so shockingly red!) blinded me to the onset of the disease, but I knew I had completely fallen when we spent some time listening to music.  And it was not the guitar laden, soft crooning alternative kind; it was late 90's R&B! Imagine my shock and awe when I realized he knew every lyric to 112's classic hit "Peaches and Cream"?! I was struck down and in love from then on. I spent many months later crying and lamenting my unrequited love (and finally realizing the problem was not his being white but his being a little boy) I learned a valuable lesson; music is the gateway drug!  Upon further research I found countless stories of musical entrapment. One friend reported being in a reggae club and falling victim to a white boy who knew how to wine.  Another friend reported sitting in a bar and becoming enthralled by a white guy's rendition of Notorious B.I.G.'s "Big Poppa".  The stories go on and on; it is the music that allows the disease to creep in.  So, if you do not want to fall victim to Tricky Ass White Boy Syndrome DON'T LISTEN TO MUSIC!
     But if you actually have some sense you might want to realize that love comes in all shapes, sizes and colors.  So does heartache.  No one color is best for me but there will be one man who is.  And I don't care what package he is wrapped in as long as the package is removable later (wink).
    As a special treat for those enlightened women (and men) who enjoy a good looking man even if he burns in the sun, my friend Tecoyia (who fell victim to the disease after many years of denial) and I have compiled the Tricky Ass White Boy Sweet Sixteen!
(P.S. Check out Tecoyia's blog,

Ryan Gosling ('ol Hero Ass Tricky Ass White Boy)
Robin Thicke ('ol Singing Ass Married to a Black Girl (Yesssssss!) Tricky Ass White Boy)
Mark Ruffalo ('ol Scruffy Ass Tricky Ass White Boy)
Ryan Kwanten ('ol Make Me Wanna be a Gay Man Tricky Ass White Boy)
George Clooney ('ol Tricky Ass Silver Fox)
Brad Pitt ('ol Beauty Spanning Over Time Tricky Ass White Boy)
Josh Hartnett ('ol Almost Born in a Trailer Park but You Fine as Shit Tricky Ass White Boy)
Bryan Greenberg ('ol You Started the Cougar Craze in Prime By Being Fine Tricky Ass White Boy)
Sam Sparro ('ol You Don't Know Who I am? Well You Better Find Out! Tricky Ass White Boy)
Jason Mraz ('ol Easy Breezy Guitar Carrying Tricky Ass White Boy)
Joseph Gordon-Levitt ('ol Making Nerdy look Sexy as Hell Tricky Ass White Boy)
Shia LeBeouf ('ol Don't Give a Fuck Cussing Bar Fighting Tricky Ass White Boy)
James McAvoy ('ol Scottish Accent Pretty Eye Having Tricky Ass White Boy)
Justin Timberlake ('ol Transitioning from Boy Band to R&B Star Tricky Ass White Boy)
Adrien Brody ('ol I Didn't Know You Was Packing All That Under There Tricky Ass White Boy)

Beautiful aren't they? Although there are many black men who are equally as mouthwatering (don't worry that list is coming soon!) I think that I should have the right to salivate over whoever I want to, comprende? And as a side note, if any of the men on this list would like to contact me because they have fallen victim to Gorgeous Nose Ring Having Tatted Up Loc Sporting Tricky Ass Black Girl Syndrome I am sure I can work out a cure or at least some form of treatment for your symptoms . . .

Sense and Style

This is Max's sense of style. 

This is mine. 

Max's ... 

Mine ... 

Max's ... 

Mine ... 

I think Max looks great just the way he is. He is adorable and funny and outspoken and fun. Of course he gets some of his je ne sais quoi from moi but he is also developing who he is and will loudly explain to me what he does and does not want to wear.

It is always interesting to me how people react to Max's personal style and how people react to mine. When walking down the street people will stop and smile at him, praising him for being such a handsome young man and reveling in his ingenuity and cuteness. He becomes a modest Rico Suave politely thanking them for their kind words while striking a Gentlemen's Quarterly pose. I always laugh because outsiders and passerbys get the meek docile version of Max while I get the crazed super-mutant-ninja-turtle-avenger Max at home. People are of the general and correct opinion that Max is an alright kid; tenacious, intelligent, and attractive. They are absolutely right.

The people's reaction to me is a completely different story. "How many tattoos do you have?"  "Why would you get your nose pierced? Ew, I don't like it." "Have you ever thought about getting a perm?  So you're just not doing that, hunh?"  It seems the questions and criticisms never end and while I spend my life trying to accept and enjoy other people's choices in life other people spend their lives judging mine. 

I have always been "unique", even though uttering that phrase makes me feel "un-unique" because everyone thinks they are unique.  Let's just say I'm eclectic.  One moment I can be into long vintage 60's style prom dresses and the next punk leather jackets and neon minis (idk, sounds like a nice outfit!)  I don't like wearing the same thing everyday; it bores the hell out of me.  And I find inspiration in everything, especially other people.  People I see on the street, students I teach, musicians I like, pictures in magazines.  We are all influenced and changed by those around us and my own personal goal is to take what I see and make it me; make it work for who I am and what I want to do in life.  

One would think that in a world filled with war, hatred and ignorance my little ensemble choices would seem to be the least of everyone else's concerns.  But apparently, what I'm wearing, how I choose to do my hair, and where I get pierced is throwing off the balance of the universe.  I feel sometimes like I have some 'splaining to do. So I'm going to say this once and anyone who asks dumb ass questions or makes asinine judgements from henceforth and forever more will be referred to my blog:

I have 17 tattoos and counting.  Yes, I will be getting more.  I like them and I'm obsessed with butterflies.  They are very addictive as well and I figure since I'm not currently on crack this is an OK addiction to have for the moment. No, I will not regret them when I'm 80; I probably won't be able to see by then.

I got my nose pierced because I think it looks cool.  I personally think it looks good on me as well; it brings out the color of my eyes (wink).  I was told once that if I got my septum pierced I would never be able to get married.  Well, I didn't have any proposals lined up before I got it in December so I figure I'm not hurting my chances much.  I am also not a woman of "loose morals" as suggested by the water cooler man who got on the elevator with me at school one day.  Sir, let me assure you, I am a great teacher and do not use my piercings to lure the students into all types of devil worship.  I am personally proud to say that I DO NOT teach your child as he/she is probably a judgmental cretin just like you.

My clothes fit me.  Yes you can see my curves.  I am not a size 0 but I am also not an 95 year-old nun. My clothes are bright colors. I don't like dark colors.  Dark colors make Morgan sad.  What also makes Morgan sad is looking like a Gap commercial.  Seriously, that works for some people and looks amazing, but on me?  I look like a deranged Stepford wife.

And finally, my hair.  I know that hair is a BIG DEAL in the Black community (much more on that later).  I will not be getting on the Creamy Crack anytime soon; in layman's terms I will not be"getting a perm".  Let me let you all in on a little secret; perms break down the natural structure of your hair and use lye to burn your kinkiness into submission scorching your scalp along with it and leaving a thin a layer of green gunk on your brain in its wake.  I am not saying I am against straight hair; on the contrary I think it is beautiful on some people.  But there are other ways to get it; new innovations everyday, Dominican beauty shops on every corner!  And me with straight hair looks like White Mike with an afro; out of place.

Whew! I'm glad I got that all out.  Any further questions can be answered by my "people" (or Max telling you, "You better shut up before Mommy punches you in the neck!") 

Really people, the judging and rude comments are getting old.  And more importantly, they hurt my feelings.  I do have feelings after all.  I believe we are all beautiful and should be respected as such.  Don't believe me?  1 Corinthians 12: 18 "But God hath set the members every one of them in the body, as it hath pleased him." Translation?  God said stop hating (hate hate hate hate hate hate hate) because He made everything just the way He wanted it to be; that includes me with all my tattoos and piercings.   If He didn't want me to get them, He wouldn't have made my skin so easily tattooable and piercable.  I have finally decided to stop listening to the evil voices of naysayers around me and just trust and love myself.   After all,  another wise man (named Buddha!) says, "You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection."  I am the only opinion who truly matters in my life and I love me!  The rest of you can kick rocks . . .