The Jigtastic Journal of J. Na Na

"So ‘Cosmo’ says you’re fat?
Well, I ain’t down wit dat!"
–Sir Mix-a-lot, "Baby Got Back"

Ever since my trip to Vegas in December during which I ate out every night (bad), drank every night (badder), and didn’t exercise (baddestest of all), I’ve had this stubborn bit of belly flab that has refused to disintegrate.  The Hot Rox have helped somewhat, but as six months roll around from the time I went, and Pride is just around the corner, I’m feeling more drastic measures must be taken.

No, not liposuction, but sobriety.  Temporarily, at least.  It’s boring not drinking, but I just know that’s the crux of my problem.  I just can’t imagine what I’ll do instead of.

I was so outraged that Paris had been released to her home with an ankle bracelet yesterday, I couldn’t even post a blog entry.  But when my co-worker told me she was dragged back into the slammer today, I was literally jumping up and down with joy. 

It’s clear she had only been initially released with a little money under the table, either to the "doctor" who observed her supposedly precarious medical condition, or the sheriff who authorized the release.  Now she’s back in, where I hope she stays.

I’m not being mean, I just believe in justice.  What would it have been like if she’d killed someone during one of her drunk driving forays?

Burn, baby, burn!

The new season of "Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List" started last night, and it was something of a let down.  Of course, I’d been looking forward to it for months, so it was well built up in my mind.  And her new stand up special, "Everybody Can Suck It", that was on just before it was also pretty lukewarm.  She even rehashed some one-liners from her previous specials, which is unlike her.

It was kind of heartbreaking when she actually broke down into tears when discussing her divorce.  You’re just not used to seeing her cry.  And the fact that she said she felt like a "failure" because of it was a rare moment that made her look like…well, a real person.

Hopefully, the rest of the season will be better.  She’s performing in Santa Rosa on October 26th, my birthday, and I’d love to see her.  How far and wherever is Santa Rosa will prove to be formidable challenges, though.

While there is certainly something missing at home with the absence of J. Co, it is filled with the freedom of being able to stew in my own juices at Casa Fiesta, and having her room to house Melissika and Tiff Tiff for Pride later this month, sponsor Holla Scholar and Fabiola for the week of July 4th, and lend an extra bed to my baby sister when she comes to visit in August.  When God closes a door or sends a roommate abroad, he opens a window or a spare room for out-of-town visitors.

I was once waiting in line for the bathroom at the End Up, and this girl behind me was being heavily hit on by this closeted, bling-ed to the nth degree guy, and I felt bad for her, so I let her go before me.  After I went and came out, she was waiting for me, and profusely thanked me.  I thought that was sweet.

I love it when black women say, "I don’ ‘ppreciate that!".  What was there to appreciate to begin with?  Loves it!

I ran into this tranny who used to be a trick of mine before he went all pre-op or post-op or whatever, working at a secondhand store, and his/her greeting to me was, "What happened to you?  You look fat" (I’d been off the diet pills for a few days), to which I nearly replied, "What happened to you?  You used to have a dick and look cute."  Ah, well.  S/he got me a 50% discount, as awkward as it was to run into her/him, so it was still a win-whaat? situation.

There is no excuse for Trader Joe’s to be selling products with trans fat in them. 

I feel like I should like Drew Barrymore, but I can’t stand the way she talks like she’s got gumballs trapped at the back of her mouth.

They’ve taken to calling me "Evil" at work.  Not as in, "Josh is such an evil guy" behind my back, but as in, "Hey, Evil, what’s up?" or "That shirt makes you look less evil."  I don’t know that I care for it all that much, but I can’t much dispute its accuracy.  After all, antagonizing my co-workers is one of the few joys I have at work.  You expect me to sit at a desk and face a computer screen for 8 hours a day and that’s that?  No way, Jack.

My new biggest pet peeve is people not returning my texts in a timely fashion. 

I lost the headphones to my iPod after my piss-drunk Friday night ’cause I was too embarrassed to bring my bulky-ass walkman to the End Up.  Conversely, the iPod is too small to adequately manage while dancing intoxicated and whirling around in cabs circa 3:00 am.  Curses!

It should be legal to hit people who purposefully walk slowly at crosswalks when the light has turned red.