Feeds:
Posts
Comments
Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

It’s a beautiful day to be alive and gossiping, people. I have so much scoop for you today, I could darn near choke. Somebody get behind thee and give me the Heimlich Manuever. Preferrably Harry Connick, Jr. Hello?

Let me jump right into this because Ms. Gwenyth, Paltrow, that is, I know you’ve been nervously awaiting to hear my take on you being named the most beautiful woman in the world. What a backlash. Basically, your photo has been nailed to the public wall and filled with darts and bird poop. I wouldn’t want to be you right now, even with that sweet bank account. Don’t you worry your pampered self over this at all, however. Damn if you aren’t and damn if you are the most beautiful woman in the world. Who gets to cry over that every day? That’s part of the Hollywood territory, and horror story, in your case. At least your name’s not Kim Kardashian.

And Reese Witherspoon. You were more than a notion in my neck of the woods and I simply can’t appreciate that. I think you’re one of the smartest It girls in Hollywood and you played the celebrity card while intoxicated, which leads me to think that what you said to that officer, who lays his life on the line on a daily basis, was not better than you in no shape, form or fashion. I need to re-think my relationship with you because what’s in comes out and for now, I’ve seen just about enough.

The big story of this gossiping hour is Ann Curry from the Today Show. She is singing to her friends like a battered bird and Matt Lauer is flying like a bat from the show when his contract is over next year.

Look, rich people. I truly, honest to God, stamp-my-foot-three-times-to-give-a-shout-out-to-the-Almighty-with-a-tambourine-shaking-in-my-left-hand, wish I had your problem. Ann, stop crying. You messed up sometimes. I lied in bed eating strawberries with whipped cream from the night before, watching you faithfully. Mistakes happen. You made many of them and I’m not mad at you for it. Nor do I feel sorry because you are sitting on a cool 10 mil for each year left on your contract. Yes, it was quite humiliating to get laughed at and booted out so publicly but the average person isn’t so lucky to get kicked to the curb in such a fashion. Will you even draw unemployment and fear that it’ll run out? I mean, come on, Ann.

As for you, Matt. I do believe, and it’s just my personal opinion, that you are sexy in a subtle and unassuming way. You look innocent but come on, my ole Boo. I know you aren’t. You couldn’t stand Ann, didn’t want her sitting on the couch next to you and that’s the way it is on the job sometimes. I can most certainly relate. Before my gossip business took off, while I was still working at the phone company, which got me started with dipping in everybody’s kool-ade, I could not stand a handful of people I worked with either. They were always trying to be in my business and not get paid for it, which makes absolutely no sense to me. Now, did you bully and shun Ann? Again. You’re not as innocent as you look and if I’m wrong, which I don’t think I am, Karma is going to become your friend in a most invasive way.

Listen to me, rich people. I’m not Olivia Pope, so I’m not interested in fixing your problems but like the business savvy woman I am, I’m all about getting paid for spreading the word, good, bad or indifferent, and at least trying to bring you back to the world of where the real problems are. I highly recommend that each and every one of the aforementioned visit getyourlife.com, get yourself a patch or something.

Honest and Always True,

Beatrice from Apt. 7B

About these ads

Blame It On Me

I know. You don’t have to tell me I’m showing you work you’ve seen already ‘ cause I’ve already told that to myself. I just felt like making a video and I totally promise you the next video will be all new pieces. I’m feeling kinda sorta so-so, so what’s in comes out I reckon.

I’m actually working on a simple concept now but it’s taking me awhile to complete and I do hope to present you with another video later in the week. On second thought, let’s make that next week. Prom weekend’s coming up and Little Totsy is trying my nerves and worn thin all of my patience.

Anyhow, I really am gonna do some things different around here, which you shall be witness to next week. Plus, I’m gonna start being a good girl on here and not run my mouth so much. I hope that doesn’t make you do a hip-hooray dance or nothing like that.

Color Sheet of Maya Angelou by Totsymae. Copyright 2013

Color Sheet of Maya Angelou by Totsymae. Copyright 2013

Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.

Words  mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse  them with deeper meaning.

There  is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

Maya Angelou

Gather around in a circle folk and hold hands. You can even snuggle up and suck each other’s toes if you want. I won’t tell a soul. Now, I need absolute quiet ’cause I’ve got me a little story to share with you today. Hence, I won’t be sucking toes myself since I’m doing the storytelling.

I’ve done little in the way of promoting my eBook. I will, however, share a story from the book with you today. It’s a repeat for those who bought the book  but that’s okay, I hope. If not, well, this too shall pass and come again, when I do another promo.

You see, I was too bogged down to promote and this summer, I’ll spend time with you in that way. I hope you don’t mind, ’cause I don’t.

Coroner’s Report

ebookcoverGeorge was a good man, Least, everybody always talked about his devotion to his wife, children he’d sent to college and church. Had a distinguished baritone in the choir that made women folk wet and ready to drop their drawers.

A few of them had too. As good and normal of a man George appeared, he only desired a few sniffs between their legs. Just a closet weird ass.

The last one he was smelling, George up and died. A smile on his face and the smell of twat on the tip of his nose, according to the coroner’s report.

Story from Sock It to Me, Baby, 2013.

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

I’m not sure about you but I miss me being here. Totsy is a character that I’m rather stuck with, unfortunately. Therefore, when she mentioned the possibility of sinking this ship, I was not a happy camper. Who can I dish the Hollywood dirt to otherwise?

Though, I regret to inform you that I don’t have much juice to spill your way at present. The thing of it is, I thought I was well on my way to getting my own reality show but this guy I met sunk that boat as soon as it unanchored. There are truly some money snatchers in the world and I must get out of their midst.

Now, I did have a rare opportunity to speak with the porn-turned-reality-diva herself. Kim, as in Kardashian, okay? We could’ve been best buddies and sleeping together had I been a black guy but, well, I don’t know. Maybe if Kanye had told her to sleep with me, and I wasn’t a straight woman of the Lord, I would have. I mean, everybody’s doing everything now, so there you go.

People, I am aware that Kimmy may not be well received here, as some of you aren’t into the reality scene as I am. I, however, must be in the know regarding all things Hollywood and sometimes, in the hood, if that’s where the action is, okay?

I do want to turn your attention to a new show called Married to Medicine and if you catch a glimpse of this show, I do believe you will conclude as I have, that these doctors are married to mess. Let’s be really real about that. And now that I’m getting into my gossip groove, I need to put it out there that Kenya, from The Real Housewives of Atlanta, is truly psychotic to the 3rd, no, the 5th power.

KimK

Photo Enhancement by Totsymae 2013

Kenya, Apollo was never trying to sleep with you, Girlfriend. He was trying to get with me. And so was Peter. And Greg. And Todd. And the guy you called gay because he wouldn’t sleep with you…Well, he’s my man now and he can tow my truck anytime, okay?

And Portia. Dear darling, Portia. I felt so embarassed for you tonight. I thought you would never find the period to end your rambling. I so thought that long speech of yours should’ve been directed toward your husband, who IS controlling and I’m sure if he’d seen me, as the other fellas, he woud’ve been trying to sleep with me too.

Two snaps and a bag of popcorn, people. Beatrice is back!

You Talk Too Much

"Yack" Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2012 Totsymae (www.toshfomby.com)

“Yack” Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2012 Totsymae (www.toshfomby.com)

How can I put this gently? Let’s just call this person So-and-So. Well, I’ve been talking to So-And-So on the regular. Being the very unselfish person that I am, I started to notice something during our conversations that has started to irk the shit outta me. Now, I can’t rightly blame it all on So-And-So but 50% of this is So-And-So’s fault.

This irksome shit that’s gotten to me is the fact that during these conversations, there’s little opportunity for me to participate in the conversation. If my only purpose is to listen, I needs to be paid, okay?

What especially grinds my nerve is talking about the same thing longer than what I want to. After awhile, say five minutes or so, I figure it’s time to change the subject if we’re going to chit chat. If it continues and I find myself nodding, I will, somewhat delicately, change the subject or make a mad dash to get off the line.  I do realize So-And-So has no inclination that a certain topic is being driven in the ground or I’m ready to doze on that ass but I do think some of the indicators would be my non-responsiveness or me changing the subject in the middle of a sentence. I know it sounds A.D.D. on my part but I can’t be the one sacrificing all the time. Granted, I am a good listener but a phone conversation is a 50/50 deal.

The other nagger is when we are talking about a topic and So-And-So bogards their way in by talking loud to get their point across. As if talking loud makes it valid and the most logical perspective. I beg your goddamn pardon!

Too, there are times when I can get in a few words and soon as So-And-So jumps back into the ring of the conversation, it diverts back to their thoughts, reflecting on hardly anything I’ve said. Sometimes, I’d really like to tell So-And-So, Shut your stank, funk ass up! but that’s not the southern belle way. Plus, I don’t know if So-And-So is truly stank or funky but the conversations can certainly be.

You know any folk like this? Say it ain’t just me.

Image by Totsymae

Image by Totsymae

I dispensed some unsolicited advice last week that the recipient of that advice cussed me out for after she followed through with it. I didn’t know I was cussed out at the time she did it. We were hanging out in some cruddy bar I’d never been to when she told me. Now, just so you know, I don’t go to bars ’cause I don’t drink. But this sometimes bourgeois friend of mine likes hole in the wall sorta places, I suppose. Anyway…

She had me sitting in this dark bar and I placed an order of food with some fruit punch. You know, you have to do something with your hands or find some sorta busyness in places you don’t know or else you’re gonna stick out like a sore thumb. I just didn’t feel cool otherwise. Know what I mean?

The earlier conversation went like this:

Her: I don’t call men. They have to call me.

Me: Girl, it’s okay to call a man after awhile to at least let him know you’re interested. Shit, you’ve got more years behind you than ahead. Get your ass on the phone and call that man.

Well, she called the man, folks. He tells her last week he’s getting ready to go to the Essence Music Festival and would check her out upon returning. This is after she asked him, “So, when are you coming to see me?”

Now, I never told her to ask him that. I just told that ass to call. She messed around and went that far on her own and now wanna blame me for him not wanting to see her ’til after July. You see, her ass got to searching on the web about the festival and found out it’s in July. Hell, that man lives about 45 minutes away from her, yet he’s going all the way to New Orleans before he makes that 45 minute drive to her place.

Did I tell you my name’s Gidgit and I ain’t in it? Hell, she could’ve called, let the phone ring two times and hung up for all I cared. I never told her to proposition the man. Besides, I’m a southern belle. I’d never dispense that kinda advice. I’m not the kinda woman with that come-over-Big-Daddy kinda way about me.

I am, however, wondering why I’m so under-appreciated, being the good friend I am. Hell, good or bad advice, she’s the one who took it and went to the left with it. My name’s Gidgit.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,550 other followers