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Dani

oh, hi.

This is the second time I've looked at my tumblr and there are like 20 people following me overnight that I don't know. And it's always because that one pic got reblogged. That's all the titties you're getting, guys. Hound CHD:WCK! for more. Good luck, I still haven't gotten my prints. ;) That brings up…

The Negro Digest(s)

“While you wretched, ratchet plebes are watching Basketball Wives, I’m in here reading vintage Jet Magazines on Google Books.” - me, before Love and Hip Hop Atlanta existed. But really, Negro Weeklies were like the VH1 of the Jim Crow era.

Do(n’t) Think Twice.

Billie Jean may not be my favorite Michael Jackson song. That honor is arguably reserved for the original demo version of PYT. However, 80% of the time I will argue that Billie Jean is not only Michael Jackson's best song, but the best song. Like, the best song in pop music history, on visceral, technical, emotional, etc. levels. I can talk for hours about that song. It is Michael's masterpiece.

Half Massed

I know full well that comment sections on the internet are reserved for the worst human beings on earth to be able to speak the pieces that no one will listen to in real life, but I read anyway.

A Chicken Lickin’

Back in the mid-nineties, when the Kardashian girls were only struggling to be relevant to their father, the E! network used to basically only play entertainment trials, Talk Soup and reruns of old TV shows. My favorite of the bunch was the David Letterman show. I watched nightly with my grandfather, and even though I…

Blackout

In solidarity with Internet Blackout Day, I'm not posting anything tomorrow. There's no reason to bring up the fact that I haven't posted anything yet this year, anyway. Work has been a bear. Design/repurposing hiatus until Feb. 1. I've got cooking to do.…

Imani.

While the rest of y'all are bullshitting, I follow through on my New Year's resolutions. My life cycles kinda follow the calendar year anyway, but I think that's just my SAD at work.

Stacks on stacks… on stacks.

I have been duped—multiple times over—by Amazon Prime. I'm selfishly unselfishly opening up my free 3-day shipping to the masses... or just the masses who bother to read my stuff.

Roast. Beasted.

My Gramma and I bond through cooking. When I travel I bring her crazy spices, which she never uses, but I impress her by making stuff with of them when I come home to visit. Since I ditched her for Nassau last Christmas, I treated her (and the family) to a Bahamian spiced roast and an islandy mango-peach-apricot-orange ham this year.