So, Uh, Yea...I'm Not Going To Boston, BUT...

I sure look cute trying to get there! My bid to win the Boston Comedy Festival started and ended last night; waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa....Hey, what ain't for you ain't for you. I did get a great idea from it, though! I'm on my way, baby! DING ^_~

I luv ya

When Life Leaves You

When I saw this picture my stomach began to churn. Why does a father's face have to look like this? The word that shouldn't be in the sentence is have. This didn't have to happen. Actions...decisions...reactions...pain. Nothing that will happen in the coming days will be for the good. Each family involved will lose. Life as they knew it is gone. Life is about change, but when it leaves us its about adjusting to a new normal. Normal isn't supposed to be new. Its supposed to be normal.

Pick sides, point the finger and cast the blame. Through it all this family has to keep on living. How do you keep on living when life leaves you?

I luv you

Boston Comedy Festival Here I Come!

Well, I have to make a stop first...come see me Thursday, June 27 at 6:30PM at The Comedy Works! 500 Northern Blvd, Albany NY 12204! Tickets are $5! Click the link and come get a little luv ^_~

$5 Bones Right Here

Miss WandaLuv's YouTube Channel!

Click the link and get a little luv! Yeah...one day I'll have my own show - Everybody Needs A Little Luv ^_~

Miss WandaLuv's YouTube Channel

I'm Still His Baby Girl

With Father's Day approaching I've been thinking alot about my father. When he died in 2008 a few things that I was afraid of  happening were that I'd forget the way his voice sounded, and that I'd never be anyone's baby girl. Well, wallah! God is good, life is grand (yeah, even with all the extra shit) and I'm aight! Not only do I remember and hear my father's voice loud and clear, I'm still his baby girl! I feel so much love from my daddy and it's a blessing!

Memories are a great thing to have. They may not all be good, but they make you realize that life is definitely for the living and there is a lesson in there somewhere. One lesson that's a funny memory now - it was NOT funny when it happened, was about men. This guy wanted to date me and my father said he had to ask his permission first. I was so excited that my father was going to let me have a boyfriend! Hail naw...I mean HAIL to the mo'fo-in' naw! The boy came to my house and Bobby James cussed him out Harlem Nights style! He then turned to me and said, "And don't bring no more sorry ass, insert racial epithet here, to my house!" The lesson that I just recently learned - Baby girl you can't pick no man. Why do you always pick the sorry ones? What is wrong with you? Sorry, Fred.

Once my father asked me if I could braid. I said yes and them proceeded to knot his hair up. My mother stayed up half the night fixing his fro. Lesson? Don't lie. Other folks always suffer from your lies.

Every time we went grocery shopping I wanted to push the cart. I always followed behind my father too close and hit his heels. He never yelled at me but gave me the "look" instead. Lesson? Slow yo' ass down! People get to' up when you're in a hurry to go no where. I think that's why I'm such a good driver (^_^)

I have so many memories. Shultz, Seymore and Fritz. My father made sure his baby girl had a dog. Music, chicken and my momma's nasty molasses cookies. Plaid pants, white shoes and cussin'. All of it was topped of with nothing but love.  I still love him, I still miss him and I'm still his baby girl! Wow...Happy Father's Day, Dads - somebody loves you!

I luv you

Baby Fat Q&A

Q - What is baby fat?
A- My scientific conclusion is a baby is simply a scrunched up adult, so what we call baby fat is just skin that hasn't had a chance to attach itself to a bone yet.
YR - You, know what, Wanda, that makes so much sense!

Q - How long can you have baby fat?
A - Well, I think since we never stop growing you can have baby fat your entire life. The fat hasn't latched on to a home yet and it just hangs around...and around...and around. So stop saying you have weight issues - it's baby fat! My kangaroo pouch that can't carry anything but extra weight - I love you!
YR - You, know what, Wanda, that makes so much sense!

Q - What about the fat that hangs from my arms? I can't get it toned or tightened up at all!
A - Have you ever saw a baby do push ups or lift weights? Some things aren't realistic. You have to train baby fat in its infancy to do what you want it to do. Now who in their right mind is going to make a little baby exercise?
YR - You, know what, Wanda, that makes so much sense!

Q - So what you're saying is this isn't fat, its baby fat?
A - YES! Your fatass isn't a fatass - its a baby fatass! Embrace it and love it! The next time my doctor says I need to lose weight I'm gonna slap him! Fool, this is baby fat! Get the &^%*)(($##@@ outta here with that!
YR - Wow...I'm gonna do that too! That makes so much sense!

Go forth and conquer wit'cha fat...oh, baby fatass'! Tight clothes, loose cleavage and buffets betta watch out! Oooooooooooowwww ^_~

And for the record baby fat is a beautiful thang!

Me and my girls, Dasia on the left and Diana on the right

Q - Question
A - Answer
YR - You're Right

A Sheltered Life

I was working on a book called, A Sheltered Life. It was so depressing that I put it on hold and began writing a comedy called, Dating Wanda. Why this particular piece came to mind I don't know, but I want to share it with you. It may have come to mind because a shift if going on in my life - a good shift, and I need to let some things and my anger towards some people go.

                                                        

My birth into this life was distressed.  I fell from the sky naked and smacked the pavement like a raw wet bird. My body was broken, damaged and beyond repair. No one in the smoking traffic stopped to come to my rescue. I felt as if I had to run through the world this way in order to survive. No one gave me a second look or a first for that matter. Trying to figure things out when you don’t know where to begin or end is haunting. You keep thinking your soul will take its last breath and save you, but it doesn’t. Being forced to live is dreadful. I want to pull my life’s cord and relieve me of my misery, but there is no cord, nor is there a map. There are no rules for me to follow. Asking myself what to do and how to do it is fruitless. Dead vines that intertwine and weave into a mound of choking fibers surround me. These fibers tighten, yet never do the deed.

“Adalee Johnson!”

The harsh voice startled me. I remembered where I was although I never forgot.  Invisible mystification.  It was spinning like an odium filled inferno.  Hot bewilderment that could smother me.

When I began to sweat I realized that I had given my soul to the devil. He burned me to a crisp and left my body emitting smoking rank embers for all to see and become repulsed by the smell. I turned to face him as I stood to ask why he had chosen me. Of course no creature was there. The devil doesn’t show himself as a horned red being. He comes to you in the form of your greed. It is when you desire something so much, or you think you do, without any regard to the consequences, is when he shows up.  Realizing that you have made a mistake only comes after you have suffered a little more than enough.

I wanted more money and more family. The family I had wasn’t good enough for me. Ray didn’t produce. I cursed Teddy before he was born and tried to destroy him as a baby. Favoritism consumed me when it came to Ray Jr. I thought Mama was a childcare provider for me, more so than a grandmother to my children. Greed for my selfish needs was my devil. I continually beckoned for him and he came. He came with a vengeance. The heat he peeled my skin with showed me.

Window three was a dingy piece of plastic that I could barely see through. A round sweaty woman who took short breaths and smacked and cracked gum looked up to look down again.

“You Adalee Johnson?”

“Yes.”

“Sign here. You can get on bus number four and it will take you to a motel a few blocks from here. Next!”

“Miss, wait.” I had questions. Please let her have my answers. “Where can I get something to eat? I need a change of clothing and supplies to wash with. I, I…I don’t have anything.”

“None of yah’ll that come here do. There are clothes and toiletries at the motel. The bus don’t leave til six, and dinner is served at four. Next!”

“But what do I do in the morning? I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Clearly aggravated the woman sighed. She looked at me and saw a walking lint ball that she couldn’t remove from her garment.  “The bus will bring you back here. You can get breakfast and then you wait to be interviewed. Next!”

The information she gave would have to suffice.  I believed if I asked her any more questions she’d have me arrested for caring about myself. It would seem that any kind of compassion for your own sake wasn’t allowed here.

I walked to the rear of the building to claim a seat in a room filled with people like me. If they thought I was someone who deserved their attention they were wrong. There were crying children, hungry babies, and faces that looked hollow. We loitered around and looked. There were men, women, and children – people standing, sitting and just looking.  Faces were sunken in from defeat. So many stories to be told to no one who cared to listen.