Want To See "Django Unchained"

Welp...THAT'S bullshit because YES THE FUCK YOU DO.

I almost want to end the post right there because the idea of NOT seeing this film (as a fan of Tarantino) is mind boggling. Like... REALLY? Why wouldn't you?!

But you'd go see fuckin...Red Tails in droves, right??  Yeah. How'd THAT work out for you?
George duped your ass then sold Star Wars. (And you forgot all about Jar-Jar right? Yeah. Hold that.)

The Wrong Stuff

So don't tell me you don't want to see it. Because you do. Because we all do. We want to go see the shit out of it.

You know how I know? Because I know in my soul, that QT is about that fantasy revenge life.
ALL of his shit is about revenge.

Dude...he shot Hitler in the face!

IN. THE. FACE.

He burned, shot and blew up all the top Nazis in the Nazi cabinet! AND had a Jew laughing while they  were served on flambe'!  And I don't know about you...but I fucking CHEERED in the theater.

 I cheered like somebody went back in a time machine and did that shit for real.

This Girl Is On Fire...

And he's not even Jewish.

But I tell you what he IS. A geeky white man who became a cinematic rock star...but never got a black pass. You know...? He didn't get "Bill Clinton" type "black pass" status where we're all like..."He's that DUDE" and I know he wants it. Shit...who wouldn't?

 And you know what that also means? He had to carry around all that fucked up white guilt for years. And he knows about white privilege. He's got black peoples. He's aware.

Not only that....he does research. Why? He's a smart motherfucker. Learn as much as you can, and then you can break the rules.

So Django may very well be his black love letter. His "I voted for Obama". His "Yo...I GET it now." And I for one, am willing give him a black pass. Retro-active platinum signed by Rakim.

You're going to see this shit...stop fronting.

You know, this reminds me of the time Barack first got into the race against Hillary and we were all..."We don't know that negro! We know Miss Hillary!"

Then he started winning. And then we started listening.  And then we were like... oh. He's not Jesse Jackson...and he's only got two kids?  For real?! #TEAM BLACK MAN.

Black folk are funny like that.  Prove it works, and we get on board. And I get it. Too much disappointment and we'd rather be surprised.

I also know some of you are still pissed off because he had a liberal use of "Nigger" in his past films and he had Mr. Wallace ass fucked with a mouth gag and it messed with your black man machismo.
Dude. I get it. I understand. But I also would like to tell you to have a nice cup of shut the fuck up and get over it.

Seriously, do you think white people don't say "Nigger"? A lot? You mad because somebody put it on film and it wasn't during a time when somebody was getting his ass whupped by Massa (Insert Your Last Name Here)? And as for black men getting ass fucked and raped by white supremacists... if you can't see how psychologically awesome it was to put racial sexual envy, repression and the assertion of white power (in the form of rape) on screen... umm.. whatever. I'm not having that discussion with you. You wouldn't get it anyway.


BUT...please just admit it. You're going to see Django Unchained.  Look. You don't have to tell anyone. It'll be our little secret. Just do it, like white folks voting for Barack on the low. (You know the pollsters were confused as fuck when Barack won, right? "But...but...but...the polls said..."
Yeah. They SAID Romney to other white folks, but in the booth it was, "Look. I'm trying to eat.")


Look. What the fuck else you going to see on Christmas Day? Les Miserables? (Though I'm not going to front...I am. But my Django tickets are for 11AM.)

And I hate to bring it down to the lowest common denominator of the revenge film, but um... you know Jamie is whipping a white slave owner in this, right? And yeah, the rest of the story is fantastic, (I read an early script. It made me moist.) but SERIOUSLY...you don't want to SEE that?!


Sorry. I do. I want to scratch that motherfucking itch so bad it bleeds. 


I've wanted to scratch it so bad,  before I'd even heard of Django, I wrote a TV pilot that looked so much like this (except our lead is a female) that when I heard QT was doing Django, I almost trashed it. Why? Three reasons.

1.  I realized was...I wrote the gotdamb "Good, Bad, & The Ugly"  meets "Downton Abby" as a TV series... in the antebellum south.

2. QT would probably do it so much better than I would. No...not probably. Like I said, I read the script. He did.

3. The possiblity of something like that getting made was slim to none. Especially from an unknown.

But I still have dreams. I kept it...so don't worry. It may just happen. (Heeeeey Taraji P. Henson... I'll have my people call your people.)



So...if you are still on the fence, after all this passion I've smacked down in this post, allow me to help you out.

Watch the trailer (and Sam Jackson "Uncle Tom'n like a BOSS...) :

And, just so you know I'm not just getting on the band wagon and shit....watch as I gushed shamelessly all over QT during a Times Talks Q&A right before the opening of "Inglourious Basterds". 

                                           

So if you haven't figured it out by now, clearly, I'm on Team QT.  And I'm proud to say I stay writing fearlessly because he does.  He is one of my heroes. 

I hope you have heroes. Because I ride hard for mine and that said... I am HERE for Django Unchained. 

IT. WILL. NOT. SUCK. 

Because like I said in that video, he doesn't suck...ever. 

#TeamAries

-N

(Oh will you just leave the toe thing out of this people?! Focus.  Some men like their nipples sucked. Some like the "Gyp Rosetti". Everybody has something. If I told you what I liked...man, listen. ) 

Yet Another Nigga In Paris

SEE???? It's not just me... PARIS IS THE FUCKING SHIT!

Check out my friend 's blog. She's in Paris right now. She doesn't want to come home.

Man do I know the feeling.


CLICK THIS ISH ->>> FROM BROOKLYN TO PARIS and get your LIFE in Paris.

-Nyree

Oh and P.S. Girl ...can you pick summa this up for me? I'll gladly pay you Tuesday!

...Know What The F*ck To Use On Natural Hair

Why do we do this to ourselves?

WHY do we buy up every damn product in the entire black section to make our natural hair stop acting like it's struggling all the damn time?

WHY do we spend countless hours on You Tube trying to perfect the "Super Twisty Knotty Coil Out" trying to look like Solange...

WERK!

 ...and in the end look like "Snoop" from "The Wire"?

And...umm...needs work.

And there are a BAZILLION hair suggestions, right?

"Oh...if you're a 3c, you shouldn't use Kinky Curly...maybe Hair Rules because it doesn't contain unicorn tears. Unicorn tears will make your hair feel stringy."

Use a paddle brush.

No brush.

Finger detangle.

Never detangle.

Co-wash.

Wash with sulfate free glitter neon shampoo you can only get from fairies... UGHHH! ENOUGH ALREADY!!

I don't know about you, but I was tired of my bathroom cabinet looking crazy with half used goop and no results. I was tired of paying Whole Foods money on shitty hair do's at overpriced salons...and as it turns out, I wasn't the only one.

On my podcast Chocolate Cake Radio, along with my co-host D'Nyree , we decided to do our own damn awards show for natural hair called "The Nappies" and handed out verbal "Golden Afro" awards for the best of the best  and "Rusty Hotcombs" for the worst of the worst in the following categories:

• Best Weave Job
• Best Beauty Supply Chain
• Best You Tube Videos
• Best Blow Out
• Best Dye Job (Hair Colorist in NYC)
• Worst Dye Job (Hair Colorist in NYC)
• Best Natural Hair Cut (in NYC) 
• Worst Natural Hair Cut (in NYC) 
• Best Cheap, But AWESOME Product 
• Best Hair Blog
• Best Shampoo & Conditioner
• Most Over hyped Product/Salon

Mind you, we did this for fun. Shitty sound system, corny award show music... the works.

But apparently, the people have spoken.

A whopping (and humbling) number of over 18,000 folks (who knew there were THAT many Naturalistas out there?) listened and laughed along as we praised and tore apart the best and the worst in natural hair care.

So...if you've got an hour, you can download the podcast HERE and listen along to see if your product made the cut.

And if you can, SUBSCRIBE...because you don't want to miss the next episode.
Here's why.


(Heavy sigh...) Have you head of Before And Afro ? Well...here's the bottom line.

A white girl puts on a fake afro and has a spiritual awakening or some shit. No matter how much we (as black women) try to save her... she insists that this is a good idea.

Bootsy Collins Wept.

ANYHOO... my girls and I have been talking about this chick and she's invited a dialogue with us regarding her life "after the 'fro".

...And we accept.

Not that I have a problem with a white woman wearing an afro. Hey...look. I live in NYC. White women are awesome and can wear whatever the hell they want. Who am I to judge? Black women weave in silky Malaysian by the truckload, so really... people in glass houses and all that.

But here's the thing...I call bullshit.

You know how Dave Chappelle said he stopped doing the show because people stopped laughing with him and started laughing at him? It's that subtle racism shit you can't really detect unless you're there. (Or unless you have close white friends who will also tell you that this... is bullshit. And I asked. And they did indeed, confirm, that it's bullshit.)

I don't believe she's doing it for enlightenment. I believe she's doing it to become a publicity figure. She's found that the best way to do this is to piss off black women...and she's currently getting shine off of that. It's turning her into a fucking Kardashian.  (But hey, at least Kim got Kanye out of it...if you're into that whole millionaire famous rapper thing.)

So I ask, what exactly is she getting?

Well... we'll find out. But only if you subscribe.

Heavy sigh...  stay tuned.


-Nyree

PS Khole didn't have to suck dick one and she's our favorite. Wise up. 

Know About The Hook Up: (Cheap) Expensive Hair Cuts, Free Credit Scoring, Online Rebates

Getting LAID. 

You need a hook up. I'm here for you.

And I'm not talking about your boy who works in McDonalds who throws an extra Quarter Pounder with Cheese in the bag. (But if that's your connect...hey. No heat, not judgement.)

I'm talking about two very important things you need to know about like...yesterday.

1. Knowing your credit score and...

2. Not paying full price for a damn thing.


And once I put you on please...go forth! Spread the gospel! Each one teach one!


The economy... man listen. We know. We're all living here. The brother is trying his damnest to fix it. But until Congress stops acting like a six pack of Summer's Eve, here are three EASY deals I found that has kept extra dough in my pocket and out of the pocket of THE MAN.



CREDIT KARMA

So chances are...when you've tried to check your credit score, you were asked to enter in all your information, including some source of payment and the next thing you know, you were charged a grip every month when all you wanted was your freakin' score.

Rip off? Yes.  Pissed off? Double yes.

Credit Karma agrees.

Which is why they offer your credit score for FREE.

Yes, I tried it. Yes, it's actually free.


I'm usually pretty skeptical when it comes to these things, but what the hell.

Two minutes later, and NO PAYMENT INFO REQUIRED... I had my credit score.

 This is NOT my score. Mind ya beeswax.

It's safe, they are ad supported, and checking your score will not negatively affect your credit.
(They request on your behalf, so it will not be shown to creditors.)  AND they're not trying to sell you anything. Nada.

What they WILL do, however, is offer you other deals from their advertisers like, U Promise, RoadRunner & Discovery. Feel free to ignore them and just check your score.

 Then look at your life. Look at your choices.

You can get yours too by going HERE.



EBATES

If you're shopping online and you're not already using Ebates, nobody loves you.

OK. Well, that's a lie. I love you. Which is why I'm telling you about this.

You know how some companies claim to give you cash back with every purchase?

EBATES DOES! Don't believe me?

POW! Cold Hard Chedda! (I think I bought a book.)

Here's how it works. You sign up, you browse their vendors (they've even paired with Group On and Amazon), choose the rebate deal you like best (6% Rebate & free shipping are my favs...), link to your favorite vendor THROUGH the Ebates site and that's it! No more to be done!

Can it be that easy Nyree? YES. It can and it IS!

At the end of each quarter, Ebates will tally up the amount you've got coming to you and send you a check.

On Black Friday, the Rebates are INSANE. I did some Christmas shopping and got back a check for over $200! Seriously...why would you shop online any other way?

I don't care what it is. Beauty. Home. Diapers. Electronics. Check Ebates FIRST...then get happy shopping. (And even HAPPIER when that moolah starts rolling in!)

You can get started HERE.


THE FLY CUT

Nothing pisses me off more than seeing a great Group On-type deal for highlights/color/cuts for some amazing cost like $50 and then realizing that there's no way in hell I could ever go there.

Why? It's not a black salon. And if you're anything like me, you don't really trust any woman who hasn't had to deal with black hair before.

I find myself apologizing for it as soon as they finish washing like, "Sorry. My bun was just pulled back extra tight so it LOOKS like my hair is relaxed. I'm really a happy nappy. Surprise! You're going to need a bigger comb!"

And so begins to trip to the black hair care salon. And they KNOW you're at a disadvantage in terms of options and service, so what do they do? Jack up the cost.

As a result, those of us who'd rather, oh..I don't know... EAT, have decided that we'd just have to suck it up. Bring our own shampoo and conditioner, some bobby pins and let Reina at the Dominican spot hook up up.

And as much as I love being called "Mami" and having a woman stare at me blankly as I try to explain why I'll knock her lights out if she eeeeever TRIES to blow dry my edges within an inch of their life, I long for the days when I could go to a salon, sip some herbal tea and relax,  knowing I was in the hands of a master. A quite affordable master.

Well, the day has arrived.

Introducing The Fly Cut!  Finally... discount deals on amazing hair care...just for us!



Did it work out OK? 

Well, I bought my $50 Fly Cut deal to the super swank Amoy Couture Hair Salon.  in New York City.

I walked in and I'm like...AHHHHHH. The sweet, sweet smell of expensive hair products.
And not the tragic, tragic smell of burnt hair and mineral oil.

The ambience was peaceful. Holy. Tranquil.

Nobody's abuela was up in there selling bacalaitos. No Asian chick selling bootleg DVDs.

Just a friendly staff (with BANGIN weaves I must say) and just... class.

Hair Heaven

My stylist Susan didn't treat me like I had a coupon. She didn't freak out when she saw I was natural. (She did freak out when she saw my hatchet color job I got going on right now, but that's another blog.)

Two hours later, my hair was LAID FOR THE GODS!! (I don't have a picture. I know...I suck.  I would have but apparently, the gods thought the humidity was more important to bestow on the city than my blow out. The gods won that day.)

Just trust me. My hair? It's Michelle Obama type sitting.

I tipped her 20% off the actual hair cut price ($150) and vowed to return.

Needless to say, The Fly Cut did me right and I'm sure it'll do you right too.


You can sign up to The Fly Cut HERE.



So don't pay full price for a damn thing if you can help it!

 It's still hard out here in these economic streets. At least now...you've got a secret weapon.

(And tell them all I sent ya! )

-Nyree

Go To Parties Like THIS: Sir Ivan's Castle - The Hamptons

Party Animals

I know...I know.

I promised the Switzerland story and the conclusion of my "Eat, Pray, Love" tale.

And you'll get it. I promise.

But first...this freakin' party story.



O.K. So, first of all, I have no idea what I'm doing at this party. I'm sure there was somebody at home, sewing a costume for days trying to get into this party and I sorta just find my way in. And I'm usually not impressed. As a matter of fact, I'm usually a bitch about these things.

 As much as I love events, I also kind of hate them. They're full of people who are more interesting in tweeting that they're at a cool place than actually enjoying themselves.

I'm up for being proven wrong, however, it doesn't usually happen.

So anyway, Elsi asks me if I'm free last Saturday and would I go to a party with her.

Sure. Why not?  It'll give me a reason to hang out with one of my favorite girls. And it's over at midnight. I can be home and cuddled up with Boo Thang by 1AM.


....I should have known better.


You see, Elsi has a way of innocently inviting me to some shit that turns into things I can't blog about because y'all will look at me funny.

So she tells me it's  JUST a record release party for this dude named "Sir Ivan" ...and it's in the Hamptons.

FUUUUUCK. I have to TRAVEL?!! Just for a freakin' party? UGH...And for WHO??

Who is Sir Ivan?  Well... that depends.

You can call him the son of a Holocaust survivor and philanthropist.

You could call him an eccentric billionaire who likes making music, throwing parties and doing whatever the fuck he wants to do. 

Or a just a regular dude who happens to own a real castle in the Hamptons where he routinely throws the SICKEST parties ever.

Choose one.

Needless to say, whoever the hell this dude was...I wasn't happy about it.

 The idea of having to drive out two hours for a fucking party infuriated me. AND it's a theme party? Eww.


But, in the name of friendship, I sucked it up. I was just told to put on a costume, get my ass on one of the 20 Hampton's Jitneys (he had chartered to take guests to and from the city...OK?) and go to his La La Land record release party. Don't think. Stop bitching. You already agreed.  Just go.

So I did.

But first, I'd need a "La La Land" themed costume.

The rules were clear. No costume, no admittance.

I figured everyone in the world would go for a bird or a cat or some shit...so I'd go for the one thing I didn't think anyone would come as.

A fish.

Kiss de girl...

I know. It SOUNDS pretty uninspiring...but once I got the makeup down, a dress that resembled glittery gills and added some fins... I was...

Umm...A Fish-Like Black Chick Thing!!  

Or something. I dunno. It was a better idea in my head. Anyway, who give shit? My glittery, drag queen-esque ensemble and Elsi's magnificent newsworthy Peacock outfit was enough to get us a swanky wristband and access into Sir Ivan's Castle. And dare I say...I was actually starting to get into the spirit of this thing. (How can you not, when you're dressed up like a drag queen?) 

Pretty Wings..

Think I should hand these out when people come to my spot?

So once you get there, you have to cross a drawbridge, and a moat. Finally...you enter the Castle. 

(Well, the Castle grounds anyway. The interior access was for Sir Ivan's peoples only.) 

Just a humble home. 

And I swear, I wanted to scoff. I wanted to get all snooty and talk about how ridiculous this whole thing was but dude really DID turn his place into La La Land. There was a carousel, a Mad Hatter Tea Party, these Lady Bug Glow Carts, unlimited caviar, champagne and, not to mention... and the most important thing here...everyone was COOL AS HELL. 

I mean, there was absolutely NO pretension in this party. Everyone invited must have embodied the "Peaceman"'s mantra of "Love Everyone And Everything" because we were IN LOVE. We were loving each other.. loving the night... loving the champagne... loving even more champagne... and even more... you get the idea... 

Lady...in a Bug

You spin me round right baby...right round...

We are lip-syncing...FOR OUR LIVES...

The Lady Of The House...And Her Dragon

Your party should just give up.

And there's just so much more that I can't really share (like the naked...umm... never mind. Go on my Instagram: @nyree6 to see what I mean.). What I can say is,  sometime around midnight, we were stumbling to catch the Jitney back to the city laughing, exhausted and wondering...what in the hell just happened.

So... the moral of the story?

If you get invited to a party where you have to get on a bus, just go. Don't think...just go.

Get your nose out of the air...and just do the damn thing.

If you have to dress up...DO IT AND GO FULL GANGSTA WITH IT!
(The chances of you enjoying this thing increases by a bazillion when you do.)

BLACK FACTOR: The party was extremely multicultural, diverse in age, sexuality and gender. It was really La La Land.

WOULD I DO IT AGAIN?: Absolutely!! But I need a better costume though. Seriously.

A FISH? Really? What was I thinking? The jokes ALONE...

-Nye

Travel (Cheaply) To Europe...Part 1: Bonjour Paris

That ish cray.

I am Nora Ephron's non-jewish wet dream.

RIP Ma'am, because the day I realized that I wasn't "Carrie" and, instead, I was trapped in one of your novels...everything changed.  Though, I actually feel great about my neck.

If you don't have time to get all wrapped up in this tale, here's the long and short of it.

At the beginning of this entry,  your beloved yet quirky female lead will get blindsided physically, emotionally and spiritually. In the middle, she'll do something radical.  Her friends will think she's crazy. She'll spend money she doesn't have, but will do it anyway. Why? Stasis = Death. (Shout out to "Save The Cat".)

 She'll keep referencing back to "Eat, Pray, Love" to justify her travel decisions and at the end of the story, she'll realize that the one she should have been with all along was right there waiting patiently.
....And that she's gonna be 40.

Someday.


But first, a little WebMD lesson. Dim the lights...cue the slide show.

Let me introduce you to a little heart condition called "Pericarditis".

Pericarditis is a condition in which the sac-like covering around the heart (pericardium) becomes dangerously inflamed. It restricts heart movement. It hinders breathing.  It feels like a heart attack.
It fucking sucks.


And I had it.

It's actually pretty harmless if you catch it early enough, which I did. However, when you first get hit with it, you're pretty much doing a Fred Sandford impression, clutching your chest, warning Elizabeth that you're coming to join her Honey.

The pain is fucking intense and you're pretty sure death is around the corner.

 And though I tend to eat relatively healthy, I didn't think about that when I realized my heart was going batshit. Instead, I began to think about every piece of fried nastiness ever shoved into my pie hole. Every pat of butter I've ever slapped on a biscuit. Every drunken post-happy hour run to KFC. (OK. If I'm being honest, White Castle. I know...I know.)

However, at the end of my ER visit (after three EKGs, three sets of blood work, a chest x-ray, all while spending the night next to a crackhead, who was all vomit everything whenever she wasn't moaning "Aaaaiii...it huuuuurts!", ) I was given a prescription for some NSAIDs and told to cut down on the Zumba.

Shortly thereafter,  and still not fully recovered, I went through a breakup. A bad one.

...via Blackberry.

Yes, I got "Berger"'d.

It's so rare to get a hand written note these days...

And, to make matters worse, my "Call In Case Of Emergency Break Up G-Spot Magnet Guy" had fallen in love while I was all cuddled up with the dude who I thought was "The One".  (No hate. Good for him.)  So I didn't even have a Bootie Call to get me over the hump....so to speak.

And, thanks to no Zumba and crying into boxes of KFC, I'd gained 10lbs. OK. 15lbs.

And I'm gonna be 40.

...Someday.


Anyhoo...

So while I'm spending way too much time on Facebook, pouring myself another overflowing glass of self-pity, I come across an ad for Iceland Air. And as soon as I saw it...I knew. Fucking book it.

"New York to Paris - $600 Roundtrip. Taxes included."

Don't think. Fucking book it.

This was on my bucket list.  "So was getting married." said my inner Bitch.


Only one of these things at the present time was within my control.

So I bought the ticket. *fingersnap* Just like that.

And then...I panicked.

Wholly shit. I'm going to Paris. For ten days! With no place to stay...no plan... and no more french under my belt than "merci" and "au revior".  But fuck that. I deserved this trip. God wouldn't have dangled the ticket in front of me if I wasn't supposed to take it...right? Right.

Now, despite the "Ball so hard muthafuckas wanna find me..." sentiment, I learned pretty quickly,  n*ggas do NOT have to spend their life savings in Paris. You CAN actually do this trip economically and still have an amazing time. Here's how.


TRAVEL

Time of year and airline is KEY!

Like I said, my fantastic air deal came from Iceland Air . With one little (less than two hours) layover in Reykjavik, I'd find myself in the most romantic city on Earth...with a broken heart. 

Somehow, this made sense. Thankfully, I wasn't going in Spring, which would have just been ridiculous. I decided to go at the beginning of fall. Which, by the way, is just as romantic. If not more so. It reminds you that you have nobody to cuddle up with. (Cue periotte clown.)

Next step? Find someone fun to go with so I didn't just stuff myself with croissants, chain smoke in cafes and throw myself in the Seine.

So I called my usual travel buddy, who was more than happy to go, BUT he'd be visiting his boyfriend in Switzerland for a few days so...I'd be alone. Eating croissants. Chain smoking. Wondering how cold the Seine gets late October.

 I threw the invitation out to my new ABFFs (Adult BFF) Elsi and she managed to turn my tragic film noir trip into an episode of "Ab/Fab".

"Of COURSE I'll come Darling...Sweetie!"

Get you some "DownForWhatever" Girlfriends. STAT!

Awesome. Now, since the American dollar is worth about the same as a sack of magic pork and beans in Europe, accommodations (that didn't resemble a scene from "Hostel") would be tricky.

What solves this problem? BED AND BREAKFASTS!  They're cheaper and usually located in t's automatically one of your meals eliminated! Pow! But I'm getting ahead of myself.

DINING & ACTIVITIES: 

You're in Paris! Pretty much, everywhere you go will be beautiful and the food will be awesome, yet overpriced. However, you should plan your itinerary in advance.  Since you've had breakfast in the B&B, you've only got lunch and dinner to worry about! Win!

Be sure to sign up for discount deals via sights like Living Social or Group On. (The sites are in French, but hey. That's why (insert your higher power here) gave us Google Translate.) You can pre-purchase dinner and use your voucher there. Also, try to go the fancier places for lunch only. They usually serve the same menu as dinner, but the difference is, the meal is half price.

And wine costs less than Pepsi. How can you NOT love this place?

Apprendre au moins une FRANÇAIS PETIT:

The French are not rude. They just think Americans are jerks and if you pay any attention to the news, can you blame them? Oddly enough, just as with other countries I've visited, the French actually like Black people. (It's just the people in our own damn country who don't. It's mind boggling. Anyhoo...) They're heavy on respect over there, and since you're black, chances are, you're automatically going to understand them. They're really close to "Momma Rules".
For example: You don't come into somebody's without saying hello, attempting to communicate and being respectful, right? Well France is THEIR HOME. And you're in it.

How would you feel if somebody walked into your house, started speaking Japanese, yelling at you because you're not moving fast enough and acted all superior? You'd call them an asshole, wouldn't you? Same thing here. So, I urge you to at least TRY to speak French. Yes, it's true almost all Parisians speak "l'anglis" but they won't until you try to parle francais. Se va?

Best way to learn quickly? Live with a French family for a month. 

Second best way? Fluenz  

I don't know WHY this program is so damn good, but it is! I've tried Pimsleur, Rosetta Stone and patient friends and this one taught me enough to impress the shit out of some Parisians. So learn at least enough to function in a restaurant. Because you're going to need it. Why? 

Waiters And Cab Drivers Don't Give A Shit About You

Unlike in the good ole States, the waiters and the cab drivers get paid a working salary. Just like you. So they don't have to be nice. As a matter of fact, they don't have to speak to your smug American, non-French ass. You can stand there forever and a day saying "Excuse me.." and not until you say, "Pardon Monsieur.." will they even bat a barely interested eye in your direction. 
And whatever you do..do NOT call them "garçon". Despite what you've heard, it does not mean "waiter". It means, "boy" and it's a derogatory insult. Say that shit and starve.

But if they DO like you, the waiter will not hesitate to try and smash. He won't get fired. It's Paris.

Also remember, that there is no tipping in Paris. Since they get paid a working wage, it's not necessary. However, feel free to leave a complimentary Euro or two if you'd like.


As for the cabs...well, unless you're going REALLY far, it's not worth it for them. Unlike in NYC, the shorter the distance, the worse it is for them. They don't want to work very hard, so a long leisurely drive is best for them. Also... trying to get one after 1AM is fucking impossible.

No, I didn't say hard. I said FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE.  The Metro stops running and people are literally camped out and sleeping on the street until it starts up again because there are NO TAXIS past 1AM.  Especially if you can't speak French. So if you're leaving (wherever) past 1AM, you'd better have a car or a bike. OR... you can learn the bus system (which is a bit shady). Just have a back up.

Speaking of the Metro...


New Yorkers Can Rock The Metro Like A Boss

If you're from New York and you can tell me how to get from 86th and Lexington to 23rd and 8th Ave on the Subway, you're going rock this shit. You're going to rock it so hard, you're just going to lounge around and take photos to PROVE how hard you rocked this shit. 

Look at me. Rocking this shit. 

The Paris Metro is CRAZY easy and it's the best way to get around. The trains come crazy quick and they have rush hour as well. And OH...two more things.

The doors will not automatically open. You have to open it yourself. We almost missed our damn stop trying to figure this shit out. 

And lastly...the people smell. No, not the homeless people. THE people. Not everyone of course, but a lot of them. And it's going to take you a day or so to get used to it. Standing downwind from the rush hour crowd is going to burn out your nose hair. Take that into consideration when you decide to hit the night life as well. You've been warned.  

All The Touristy Corny Crap... DO IT! 

You are in PARIS! Do not spend your days doing nothing. PREPARE! Get yourself a guide book and go see it! See ALL OF IT! You won't regret it and trust me, seeing these sites in pics aren't nearly as great as seeing them in person. Well, except the Mona Lisa. THAT shit was underwhelming as fuck.

But you still need to see it.
And the Venus De Milo. And Versailles. And Notre Dame.

Seriously. What's the point of going to Paris and missing these?

Louvre? Check.

I think I farted in the hall of mirrors. 

If you're a black woman in this area after dark, they'll think you're a hooker. Go during the day.

CHURCH! 

My fav song on "Parade"...(yes, I listened to it while I looked at it. Prince nerd...hello.)

"They loved to kiss on the steps of Versailles..." 

So get yourself a guidebook and go take some epic shots.

You may have noticed my jacket. Why am there in November? Because...


Late October-Early November Is The Best Time To Go

We walked right into every single attraction in less than ten minutes because all other tourists have gone home. You can skip the "Attraction Pass" if you do it this way, since all the "speed pass" entry it affords you isn't really needed this time of year. However, if you go during the Spring or Summer...that pass is a MUST.

The coldest it got? Maybe 58-60 degrees F.  And in that case, you just throw on a scarf and act Parisian. And what's the best way to do that?

Eat On The Street, Hang Out At Cafe's, Stay in a B&B, Use Google Translate and Wear A Scarf

Our scarf game...

...was TIGHT

By Day 10, we were Parisian. I was ready to give up all my shit and move.

 Elsi and I had the Metro DOWN. We'd been everywhere. We'd met new friends. We were speaking semi-decent French. We were regulars in our neighborhood cafe. We were smug. We were fucking awesome.  A HUGE part of this was staying in Bed and Breakfasts instead of hotels. Our host Jean-Michel was super friendly, constantly giving us the inside scoop and improving our French and his place? Incredible. Breakfast was light and well..Parisian. The accommodations? Beautiful. The money saved? A lot. Think about it. That's one meal every day that's taken care of. VOILA!

Dining Area

Bed...

...and breakfast

Lastly... 

Everything Is Better In Paris. Deal With It.

They hate Americans. They're all ... "Why do you Americans act so smug when what we have is soooo much better?" And you know what? They're right.

It's hard to explain but Paris just does it better. From food, to transportation, to cafes... it just all...WORKS.
Well...it doesn't all work. Like, the people don't. Everyday looks like a Saturday in Paris. We were there for five days when I was like... don't they have JOBS? But other than that...yeah. It all works.

I just asked for coffee...and I get this. 

This is not pizza. This is orgasm with cheese on it.

See that bartender in the mask? He made me a drink with a sparkler and smiled. Then I fell in love with him.
He did not love me back. Tres Parisian. 

And Then I Came Back The &*$k Home

Sigh. I know why the caged bird sings.
I also know why James Baldwin packed up his shit and bounced.

I came home to... America. Dysfunctional yet awesome America. After the shit at the airport, the white people acting all like... American White People, I had to ask myself... "What's stopping me?"

Why in the hell am I not making plans to move to Paris?

 I'm single. I have no kids. I pick up languages easily. I felt ZERO racism in Paris and I love it. I can make a living there easily. Why the hell wouldn't I just... move?

And JUST as I'm thinking this and mentally preparing to DO THIS SHIT... I meet someone else.
And he is awesome.

And that's why I am Nora Ephron's wet dream. Because of how this story ends...(or begins, shall I say?)

Yet that... (cue Parisian accordion...) is another story for another time.



TRAVEL: Check Hipmunk or Iceland Air for the best deals. Go during the off season.  I actually flew through Iceland to get to Paris, which cost about $200 less than going through Air France (who has been known to go on strike on a whim at least once a year. Usually during the off season.)  Stay at a Bed & Breakfasts to save money.

COST: The entire trip, for 10 Days, including Airfare, accommodation and spending dough (keeping in mind that the dollar was in the toilet and the Euro was 2-1), $2,600. Splitting cost with a buddy helped tremendously, but so did the B&B's.

BLACK FACTOR: That's the funny thing about Paris. There's practically no racism when it comes to African Americans HOWEVER...they hate Africans. Heavy. Once they find out you're African-American and you try to speak the language, you're fine. Not that it's right... but that's just the way it is.

WOULD I DO IT AGAIN?:
I had a broken heart when I left. Not only was it fully in tact when I returned, but it was making music.
Would I do Paris? Again...and again...and again...


(Stay tuned for Part 2: Bonjour/Buon giorno & Guten Tag Switzerland & Milan! (And yes...I spoke all three. Like a fucking boss.  OK, except German. I spoke German like an intern.)