Sincerely, Beatrice: The Trailer

I’m currently trying to catch up with myself. It’s a busy time, like any other time really, and I’ve been down with a cold. I’m trying to get into the swing of things and while in bed, I was able to put together Beatrice’s trailer for the summer comics series, which I’m very much behind on. My goal is to ultimately star Beatrice in her own literary work, so I get to toy around with ideas here. In the trailer, you’ll see some images are old and new, kinda like a flashback and flash forward type of movement with black and white sketches. If you’d like to know more about Beatrice, check out her posts here

Well, my energy’s zapped after writing this, folks. In the meantime, I’ll attempt to upload the video on the sidebar so you can put it on your calendar to tune in on time. I know you’ve been waiting your whole life for something like this. And oh, close the door tight on your way out.

 

 

 

Catwalking with First Ladies

catwalking bea

You didn’t think I’d let Women’s History Month slip past without a word, did you? Leave it to moi, the queen bee, to keep you relevant and in style with women of class. Numero uno is me, baby. That’s right. I’m the style icon at the local Cheesecake Factory in the ATL and Totsy’s subdivision. Yes people, you must claim your fame wherever you can until you can do better, alright? I can walk with my head up without a tummy tuck because I am beautifully luscious as I am. Snap, snap, spin. Catch me before I fall, people. I’m dizzy now.

I know that you know Michelle Obama’s the most stylish First Lady since Jackie O. The other first ladies did what they could and we got through it. I have to say Nancy Reagan was fashionable too. Snap, snap Nance. You did that. And while we’re talking first ladies, I have to say Olivia Pope, you’re one chick who can wear a white coat and work a business like nobody’s business, okay? Yes, I get that you’re a TV character but I have to take my sunglasses off and give a shout out because I’m all about that life. You feel what I’m saying?

And too, while we’re talking Olivia, I do want you and Fitz to stop it with all this “I can’t breathe without you” talk. Of course, you can. You slept with Jake, who’s living in your apartment and taking off his shirt in front of you. I say, keep going for it girlfriend. I will if you won’t, okay? He’s single and you need to mingle to get that tingle with someone you’re evenly yoked with, as in available.

Oh my, time flies and I’ve veered off course on my subject matter here. Oh, well. Enjoy the catwalk with these lovely first ladies and I’ll catch you backstage before my Vegas show. You didn’t get a backstage pass? Call my manager. His office is at Starbucks where he’s trying to hook up with that free wifi, okay?

Fashionably Yours,

Beatrice from Apartment 7B

Jackie Kennedy. Google Image

Jackie Kennedy. Google Image

Nancy Reagan. Google Image.

Nancy Reagan. Google Image.

Michelle Obama. Google Image.

Michelle Obama. Google Image.

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It’s Okay If You Call Me Bossy

"Yack" Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2014 Totsymae (www.toshfomby.com)

“Yack” Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2014 Totsymae 

I’m disappointed. A little confused even. I’m trying to figure out what’s so wrong with calling women bossy. I mean, some are. It’s not the worse thing a woman can be called. How can you ban a word and why would you want to?

You know what, women folk? Sucking meat from teeth. Y’all are really starting to get on my nerves. You whine too much. You’re way too sensitive and you always want something. Look, you wanted equal rights, so now you get a little of what men folk been getting. Don’t get out here in the work world acting all tough and soon as somebody call you a name, you go to flinching like some damsel in distress. I mean, this whole banning thing sounds either premenstrual or menopausal. Take your pick according to which stage of life you’re in.

Flicking lighter to fire up cigarette. It’s always something with you women folk. You want contraception, the morning after pill, men to help with domestic stuff, a woman president (which I’m fully and whole-heartedly against, by the way), planned parenthood and yaddah freakin’ yaddah. You just don’t get a word removed from folk vocabulary. I like the word bossy. All it means to me is a person who gets things done. I mean, if you women folk are against the word and all and you’re proponents for equal rights, get it banned for men too. Better yet, get prick banned and all those other derogatory terms that mean so much worse than bossy. What about slut? Those kinda folk work at the office too, you know. 

And what happens if the word’s banned and somebody says it anyway? Will it come down to something like a sexual harassment suit? I can’t imagine being cross-examined or being involved in such a case. But you know the root issue, right? This wouldn’t be a conversation today if women folk had just stayed barefoot and pregnant and somebody wasn’t trying to sell a book. Scratching unshaven underarm.

In Celebration of the Dysfunctional Woman

Eunice

Everyone likes to be celebrated and women folk, March is your month. Or rather, ours. You, I mean, we asked for it, so we’re sure gonna get it. And fair is fair, okay? If you celebrate one woman, you have to celebrate them all. No matter how wretched some are, we must embrace the most brazen and undesirable of women folk to strengthen our sisterhood. Ahem. Cough, cough…

Now, if I may ask you a question. Who portrayed a woman so damaged, yet funny, that we laughed and thought about the lot in our own families? That’s right, Carol Burnett. Eunice was a sad wreck of a woman, with so very little going for herself but if you were like me, you just loved the night the show aired the little family that couldn’t and never would. Mama, played by Vicki Lawrence, ensured that misery remained intact and did a real fine job of it. Poor Ed, the character played by Harvey Korman, was just an unlucky fella who joined misery’s company and there was no escaping the shrieking sound of Eunice. For some reason, I always thought he could’ve been a man of potential had it not been for her…Hmmm, maybe not.

The Path to Being a Vibrant, Healthy Woman

"Beach Hat: Violet" Copyright 2014 Totsymae

“Beach Hat: Violet” Copyright 2014 Totsymae

Over the past coupla weeks or so, I’ve heard some very disturbing news about women. Not me but you. I mean, I’m a woman and all but since I don’t fall in this category, I feel duty-bound to help you out. I hope you don’t mind. I’d want somebody to reach out to me if…Let’s get right to it to get you the help you need.

Women, so studies say, are taking more sleeping pills than anybody. Over 60%. I’m prepared to offer you an alternative, okay? If you’re on the high-strung end, and you know who you are, try jogging around the block in your neighborhood before bedtime. If there are loose dogs in the area and you’re not, per se, a dog-type person like myself, that should make you run even faster.

You may have to utilize some untapped skills or what you learned from childhood, like climbing a tree or do what they do in horror movies. For example, haul it home fast as you can but before you get there, fall, lose a shoe and say, “I can’t go on.” I will advise that it’s best you go on ’cause you’ll be alone and won’t nobody give a damn more than you, okay?

If you find that you can, make it to the door, try sticking the key in, drop it, not once but several times ’til the dog gets closer and closer. You may wanna try this as a mental exercise rather than actually doing it. I don’t know about you but just thinking about being in that situation has exhausted me. Should you decide to go on a trial run to see if this activity will wind you down in the evenings, keep in mind that those rottweilers don’t play and you don’t wanna get yourself chewed up or anything of that nature.

I also understand women folk are depressed more than men. ‘Cause of our body make-up, women internalize. We just take in so much and even create unreal imaginings that men have no idea about. They’re just so aloof, aren’t they?

Men folk, on the other hand, externalize. Therefore, we’ve got feelings they can’t begin to comprehend. Oh, they put on a good show like they’re sensitive and all but they really aren’t. They’re only appeasing you ’cause new agers are telling them all will be right with the universe if they do. Don’t believe the hype, folks but neither should you put too much focus on this part of the post ’cause I don’t want you losing more sleep than you already have or start giving the significant other the side eye.

This has been a public service announcement for women’s health on behalf of Women’s History Month. Keeping it real and light for the better good of human sanity.

Meet Keiko Matsui

Keiko Matsui. Google image.

Keiko Matsui. Google image.

I think you’ll love her if you’re not already familiar. I have a few CDs of hers. Simply came across her some years ago when I was browsing music in a store. So, when I was playing her in my car awhile back when driving a friend around, he fell in love with her but he had to buy his own CD ’cause I don’t loan out these kinda things. You just never see them again ’cause folk start thinking your stuff belongs to them.

Anyhow, Matsui is a jazz pianist or keyboardist, from Japan. I’ve always had this thing for the piano although I can’t play at all. I do, however, have a good ear for music. Now, Matsui’s been around for a good while. She looks young and you can say she is, really, at 52. She’s been on the circuit for 30 years, so you can be sure the music’s way better than good with her lasting that long.

Matsui is a naturalist and her titles reflect that. You may also be interested to know she’s an advocate for women’s health and contributes to several charitable causes, as well at to the Marrow Foundation. Royalties from CDs, in 2001 and 2004, were donated to the causes dear to her. You can visit Keiko Matsui’s website at www.keikomatsui.com.

It All Started with Underarm Shaving

The Supremes. Google Image.

The Supremes. Google Image.

Women have certainly come a long way. Depending on who you ask, some may say we’re outta control. Every now and again, I’ll pop in my Diana Ross & the Supremes CD and while that was before my time, I really like their singing. Those girls came a looooong way.

Back then too, women pretty much kept their clothes on. Times were different. You know, on the Republican conservative side when it came to dressing up. Even on stage to sing. I thought about this change short but hard, folks. How we dress and all, as in taking it off to make a dollar all started with underarm shaving. Seems like once that movement caught on, women folk started talking louder, smoking them thin cigarettes, spitting on the sidewalk and whatnot, we decided to go unclad in public. I mean, a woman can’t be all hairy and whatnot on the cover of Vogue or Penthouse. Just wouldn’t be a good visual, know what I mean?

Now, I’m on the fence about this whole skin is in movement. It’s just not fair to regular ole women folk, thinking they can mimmick their looks after Hollywood photoshopped pictures. It’s totally delusional and I know some men agree with me. I don’t care how liberated women are, some should absolutely refrain from those jeggings. Your reputation goes way down when you make certain decisions, okay? Even some thin women shouldn’t have a cashier ringing up such a purchase. You don’t get a pass on that because you’re small. Fair is fair.

When I was in Saudi Arabia, there were religious police. They gave you the business if you weren’t wearing your get-up right. Word was from the westerners (and you know how we exaggerate what we don’t understand), that you could go to jail for dress code infractions. Maybe. Maybe not. I didn’t test that theory. You feel me? Probably there should be similar positions in western countries, to uphold some kinda dress standard ’cause some women folk don’t know they’re in the wrong. That would be a good moonlighting job for me but even I would have to take some kinda test to prove I understand the rights and wrongs of fashion.

I can’t let you fellas off the hook either though and I’ll be straight to the point. Men folk, why is it the older you get, the higher those pants rise up toward your chest? What’s up with that, is my burning question.