N.E. Heartbreak

As I'm writing this blog, my boyfriend's sister is planning to go to the Guvernment tonight to see New Edition's make up concert. As for me, I'm staying my tail home -- I'm gon' watch Girlfriends and 24 and call it an evening.

But, this is a blog about yesterday's events.

If It Isn't Love

Yesterday, I was hyped -- actually, I had been hype all week long knowing that I was going to see one of my favourite groups, New Edition. Now, I have wanted to see NE in concert since 1989, so when I heard they were coming to town last night, I said, 'buy me a ticket!'

Sigh.

If you didn't already know, New Edition was supposed to perform at the Hummingbird Centre yesterday evening. 'Supposed to' is the most important term in the previous sentence 'cause my boys didn't arrive due to the weather.

Now, the concert was supposed to start at seven o'clock, so when I arrived at the Hummingbird Centre at minutes to seven and I saw one of the opening acts, In Essence, pulling up, I knew something wasn't quite right.

I just assumed that, like many concerts, this one was going to start late.

Unfortunately, I assumed that it was going to start.

The doors never opened until well after eight and once everyone was seated, with no help from the Hummingbird staff, Farley Flex of Canadian Idol fame said, "Sorry about the delay, but I've got good news: New Edition is in the air."

I leaned over to my boyfriend's sister and said, "Did he say they are here?"

"No, Urban Sista, he said they are in the air."

Air? In the air? What are they doing in the air? At eight-thirty, an hour and a half after their concert should have started, all five of their backsides should have been backstage chilling, warming up their voices. Not in the air. Chupse.

"Because of the lateness, you can get a full refund or you can wait. The opening acts will be on stage shortly."

So, we stayed -- we were angry and annoyed -- but we stayed. If it wasn't love for New Edition, I would have packed up my georgy bundle, like a lot of people who couldn't be bothered to hang around, and headed home. Rumours were flying: New Edition was on their way. New Edition wasn't coming. New Edition had been beaten up by Boyz II Men 'cause someone had beef with Biv... nah, that wasn't one of the rumours, but the thought of that made me chuckle ;)

At around nine p.m., Canadian content Ray Robinson was excellent. That boy can sing and he did a good job getting the crowd, that was already miserable and riotous, to calm down and enjoy themselves. Next up, about forty-five minutes later was more Canadian content, In Essence. Those boys were jokes and they livened up the audience for real. Their personalities and their rendition of Sam Cooke's A Change is Gonna Come, made up for the crowd's dryness.

Folks like myself had arrived at the Hummingbird Centre on time and were still waiting for NE to arrive -- not perform, just arrive -- almost three hours after the concert was supposed to start.

So, the promoter? host? whoever the heck that idiot was came out to inform us that New Edition still had not arrived. But he told us not to worry, Case was in the house and we'd have a performance by Jemeni. If Case's four hit wonder backside could make it to Toronto in plenty of time to perform, why couldn't New Edition? Then again, what has Case done in the last three years? Really? He probably had plenty of time to spare. Tee hee.

Around 10 o'clock, with many boos and hisses, Jemeni came out on stage and told us: "I saw New Edition backstage."

Riiight.

That's why this morning, she and Mark Strong were telling us why they didn't arrive. Jemeni performed a great poem -- she's still in my bad books for getting my hopes up. Sista, why'd you have to deceive the people like that? Huh? Why?

Jemeni came off the stage and we sat. It was about 10:15 pm and I was getting tired, miserable and frustrated. I wanted Johnny Gill to stick his head out from backstage and say, "Don't y'all worry, we're here." Then, and only then, would I feel happy and content. But, no, that didn't happen. We sat, the boyfriend made friends with some people around us, I chatted with Lady Abena who was also at the concert. And we waited some more. I ran to the washroom -- I don't know why I ran because the way this concert was going, I knew I wasn't going to miss a darned thing.

At 10:34 pm, I called my sister to blaze the promoter, because obviously buddy didn't know what he was doing. One of the most important parts of event management, is keeping your clients informed, so they can make informed choices. The promoter continued to wave the promise of NE in our faces and we, like fools, believed and stayed.

Touch Me, Tease Me

Finally, at 10:45, Case came on stage.

Case: Toronto! How y'all feeling!
Toronto: Booo!!! Hisss!!!
Case: What can I do to make y'all feel better?
Toronto: Bring New Edition!!!

Shame.

Case looked sad -- and bony, the man dropped off 'nuff weight. "Well," he said, "I can't do nothing 'bout that, but I can make you feel good!" Or something equally as corny.

He did one song, Happily Ever After, and the crowd started to warm up to him. I was singing along, enjoying myself, until he called up some poor young woman up on stage. No word of a lie, Case is one nasty ass Negro.

The girl looked like it was her first concert... ever. She was wearing her glasses and some sequined top and tights. She was cute, but she looked like she was out of 1989... maybe that's why she was at the concert. Nevertheless, someone hoisted her up on stage and Case put her to sit on a stool.

So far, so good. The music started and he started singing, cool, and getting really close to the woman. Fine. Suddenly, the man dropped to his knees and put his face in her crotch and started simulating things that should not be simulated in front of an audience -- unless you're an adult entertainer. I couldn't bare to watch, must be my conservative, Christian beliefs, but many of the concert goers started carrying on bad. Lickin' shots.

Lickin' shots in the Hummingbird Centre.

Sheesh.

Case couldn't end it there. Oh no, why stop now? He put his face in the woman's backside and started simulating some more things that really, I didn't need or want to see at minutes to 11 o'clock.

Once the dirt was over, I had to give Case props. My man jumped off the stage and ran through what was left of the crowd, 'cause it was dwindling, guy. Lady Abena got a hug up and a picture (which, unfortunately, didn't turn out). He did get the crowd on its feet and he did a good job with his portion of the concert. But, I don't think I'll ever, EVER, see Case live in concert. He too well and nasty.

Can you stand the snow?

Waiting, waiting and more waiting.

Finally, we don't see anyone, but we hear someone. Toronto began to boo vehemently and with much passion and hatred.

"You can boo all you want," said the promoter.

Excuse me? Boo all you want. What kind of rude announcement is that? We didn't sneak in the concert. People paid good money to be here. I'm finding more and more that when dealing with these situations, people think that you're begging them to be there. No one begged, people pulled out their credit cards and paid Ticketmaster anywhere between $50 and $100 to see New Edition.

And, seeing that it's 11:30 pm, I'm believing less and less that NE will make an appearance.

And if they do, I will be fast asleep in my home in Scarborough, 'cause this is getting ridiculous.

"New Edition will be here tonight. The are circling at Buttonville Airport, trying to land. The weather is really bad."

Circling Buttonville Airport? At 11:30 at night? To perform that same night? You must be mad! How is that going to happen?

Buttonville Airport is in Markham! A good 45 minutes away from Hummingbird Centre, downtown Toronto. Look, New Edition didn't just hear they were performing in Toronto yesterday. They knew since time they were going to be here. So, why didn't they plan to be in Toronto by one or two in the afternoon? Aren't there sound checks, lighting checks, etc. etc.?

I knew the weather was going to be questionable, don't you think New Edition's people didn't realize the weather was going to be bad? And wouldn't they plan accordingly? So, I believe that was a load of crap.

I understand the weather's bad, but if you are scheduled to perform somewhere at seven, don't be on a plane at eight-thirty trying to get to your destination. And, if where you were coming from was a hot mess due to inclement weather, wouldn't the promoter be advised early in the day that the weather conditions weren't conducive to travel and the guys were going to have trouble getting into town?

"You can go if you want, but New Edition will perform tonight, whether it's 10 people or 50."

That's when people got really vexed and began to curse the promoter.

There comes a point when there's a situation like this -- when you have to decide if it's worthwhile to chance it and stick around or cut your losses and get home in time to get a decent night's rest before work? I voted for the decent night's rest and bounced.

When we got outside, the snow was up to our ankles and, in true T.O. fashion, no snow plows were on the streets. So, we slid, skidded and crept home in some of the worst weather I've faced in Toronto. So, I can understand that NE couldn't get into town because of the weather, but the attitude from the promoter was disgusting.

Let's say NE had landed at Buttonville at 11:30 pm, by the time they got off the plane and cleared customs, on a good day, it would be 12:15 am. Then they would have to head down to Hummingbird Centre -- from Hummingbird to my place was an hour, tack on another one because of weather -- that would have us at 2:15 am. Next, band set up, let's say it's 45 minutes -- I know it's longer, but for the sake of argument -- that's 3 am Monday morning. Sound and lighting checks, 30 minutes. That's now 3:30 am.

So, what was NE going to do at 3:30 am? Chill out with some groupies and catch a nap, 'cause these guys aren't amateurs and they weren't going to perform at 3:30 in the morning for the 10 people who hung around.

Whatever.

This morning I listened to Flow 93.5 for an update. Well, it seemed, surprise, surprise, that NE did not perform this morning at 3:30. I wonder why?

This afternoon, I was sent an e-mail announcing this free make up concert at Guvernment. I hope they actually make it to the venue.

Fired for blogging?

I read this weekend and this morning about a few people who had been fired for blogging about their company and co-workers.

What?!?

I have a real problem with that because I believe that I should be able to write whatever I would like about situations I experience, whether at work or outside of work, without worrying about losing my employment. Personally, I don't believe that these people were fired for blogging, I think their companies were looking for reasons to show them the door and their web logs were convenient scapegoats.

My question is what happened to freedom of speech? My right, as a human being, to express myself as I want to? Especially if I'm using my computer and my personal web site? If my company has an Internet policy and I'm not permitted to blog at work, let me know the policy and I'll keep my blogs for the comfort of my own home. But if there is no policy -- and I doubt any upstanding company would have enough guts to create a policy that says that you can't speak/blog ill of the company -- let people blog in peace.

As long as I don't mention any names or defining characteristics about my workplace or anyone there, I shouldn't be penalized by losing my job. What kind of mess is that? Will it go from me not being able to blog about my work life to not being about to gripe about [INSERT PROBLEM/SITUATION/PERSON] downstairs when I get a cup of coffee.

Employers who are threatened by complaining bloggers are silly because blogging, like venting, is a great outlet to get all the pent up frustration out so that you can be a productive employee. If I'm mad about a situation at work and I have no outlet to release my anger, what's going to happen?

I'm going to have a meltdown at work.

I prefer blog about whatever vexing me than go to work sour faced and belligerent and, after I've cussed out an offending co-worker, have to deal with Human Resources because I've spoken out of turn.

So, if any employers are reading this blog, don't punish your employees who blog about work. Read what they have to say and take it under advisement... or just ignore it.

It's healthy to blow off steam.

What songs would be in your MP3 player if you were on a deserted island?

If you were trapped on a deserted island and could only take 25 songs with you, what would you take?

1. Mastersuite - Johnny Gill
2. The Never that You Never Know - Mint Condition
3. The Truth - India.Arie
4. I Wish I Wasn't - Heather Headley
5. Eye on the Sparrow - Lauryn Hill & Tanya Blount
6. God's Grace - Trin-i-tee 5:7
7. Can't Make You Love Me - Bonnie Raitt
8. Saturday Love - Cherelle ft. Alexander O'Neal
9. Ms. Stress - Floetry
10. Silver & Gold - Kirk Franklin & The Family
11. No Weapon - Fred Hammond & Radical for Christ
12. Differences - Ginuwine
13. Beauty - Dru Hill
14. Let's Dance - Hezekiah Walker
15. I Like the Way (The Kissing Game) - Hi-Five
16. Making Love in the Rain - Herb Alpert ft. Janet Jackson
17. No One's Gonna Love You - The SOS Band
18. I Can't Wait - Nu Shooz
19. Outstanding - The Gap Band
20. If It Isn't Love - New Edition
21. Makeda - Les Nubiens
22. It Never Rains in Southern California - Tony Toni Tone
23. Spread My Wings - Troop
24. Faluma - Square One
25. Joyful, Joyful - Sister Act II cast

BET's College Hill could be the most ghetto reality TV show on air

I'm flipping channels and I came across College Hill.

Lawd hav' mercy!

The people are talking about who licked who's booty. One girl is swearing up and down that her ex-boyfriend (who is also part of the cast) licked her. He, of course, is denying it. Personally, I think the girl is trying to stir up some mess 'cause she still has feelings for the ex, but he's dating another girl. Typical drama.

But, my question is, why does the viewing public need to know who licked who (whom?)? And it's not like you're just telling your girlfriends, you're telling the world and brawling about it for a good five minutes.

Reality TV can be, by it's very nature, trash -- heck, look at Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie carrying on like idiots. But, those two are probably getting paid decently to act stupid. The kids on College Hill are airing their dirty laundry for, maybe, $2000, if they're getting anything at all.

Remember, this is BET and BET doesn't really pay. No one performs challenges or tasks. There is no $1 million prize... no real incentive, except to have your face on TV and maybe that's what these people are looking for -- a little exposure.

And let me tell you, one exposed himself to the world last Thursday.

Anyway, it's strangely intriguing -- it's like watching an accident. You know you should focus on the road ahead, but you wanna see, so badly, what's going on.

I'm a mess.

But, thankfully, it's Friday, the house is quiet and I don't have to wake up at 6 am tomorrow morning.

Thank God it's Friday

Thank God it's Friday,

Party lights, Friday night feelin' right,

It's a party!

Thank God it's Friday,

Party lights, Friday night feelin' right,

It's a party!

-Thank God It's Friday, R. Kelly

I'm especially pleased that the work week has ended. I'm usually happy for weekends, but this week, well, this week has been trying.

I'm trapped in training and dry training at that. I'm cross-training -- I'm a communications specialist in Marketing and I'm learning about Client Account Management. I'm sure it'll help me do my job better, but can I be honest?

Heck, this is my blog, I can be whatever I want.

I really don't care how the company works and how I can apply payments using some antiquated system. I don't care about the five account levels and I don't care how to handle clients who refuse to pay their bills.

I do care that I can no longer use the phone as I like. I do care that my lunch has been trimmed down to a meagre half an hour. I do care that my tail has to be in that blasted classroom at eight am. I can only hope that this will help me in my career somehow... how? I'm not too sure about that yet.

I'm sad.

I have nuff respect for people who work in call centres, but I didn't sign up to be one, so I'm annoyed that I have to spend two and a half weeks in a classroom learning how to be one.

And it's only day 3.

Sigh.

I miss the days of writing content for our Intranet and Internet, leisurely blogging on issues that sparked me after sipping my coffee and reading through thestar.ca and cnn.com. Coming in at a few minutes after nine and cracking jokes with my co-workers. I actually, GASP, miss meetings.

I'm really falling off the deep end if I'm missing meetings, 'cause we all know that meetings accomplish nothing.

Until March, I'm trapped in a windowless room, with only the hum of the projector to keep me awake...

Sigh.

Da Kink in My Hair

[Ed. Note: Da Kink in My Hair is an excellent production by Trey Anthony now playing at the Princess of Wales Theatre. Support Black theatre in Toronto!]

I've learned to embrace and love my kinky, nappy, sometimes unruly Black hair.

Trust me, it took a good 25 years of my life for me to reach that revelation and see my hair for what it is: an extension of my Blackness. And, if I'm proud of my heritage, I should be proud of every roll, kink, knot and pepper that grows out of my scalp.

When I was younger, I always wanted long, silky hair -- like Tatyana Ali from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. I would fry my hair with hot combs and curling irons, chemicals and soak it in gel with the hopes that it would spring, long, luscious and straight from my head and I would be the pretty, long-haired Black girl.

That never did happen.

So, as I got older, I learned to love the fluff on my head and work with it -- not against it. I'll still drop some chemicals in it to smooth out some of the curl (and so I can comb it). I'll pull out my gel and slick it back into a ponytail. I'll blow it out straight, for my R&B diva look or I'll drop some weave or braids in it. And some days -- like today -- I'll let my heritage take control and go happy and nappy.

Ironically, white people are enamored by the same hair I wanted to trade for their flowing tendrils.

"I wish my hair could do the things yours does!" one of my white co-workers said this morning.

Funny.

Fifteen years ago, I would have gladly traded in the hair I fought with in a heartbeat. Today? Not a chance. I don't think I would or could have as much fun with anyone else's hair.

So, I just smiled at my co-worker and ran my hand over my bushy, curly 'fro, thinking about the next style I was going to try out.

Enjoy the hair you were blessed with - thick and kinky or long and silky and everything in between.

Thank God for Black hair.

Michael Jackson's on trial... again

I was just visiting BlackPlanet.

Yes, for all I cuss BP, I still visit because I do enjoy reading what's said in the forums. There are some intelligent people -- and some not-so-intelligent people -- discussing their views and opinions.

Today, I was reading about MJ being on trial for molesting a 13-year-old child.

Personally, I don't know if he did or didn't do it. I'm not going to proclaim him innocent or guilty at this point, but Michael needs to wake up. This is the second or third time he's been accused of interfering with someone's boy child. And now the ex-wife, Debbie Rowe, is getting involved. Supposedly, Michael stopped sending her money and she now wants custody of the children.

OK, so here's the Urban Sista take on Michael Jackson:

Man! What was yuh tinkin'? - Honestly, if you got off once, why would you allow it to happen again... unless there is some truth to what's being said.

People are saying that Michael had a hard life and, from what I've read and heard, that's true. But enduring hardship doesn't allow you to continue to make bad choices. Putting another child in your bed to sleep with you -- whether it's innocent or dastardly -- a few years after you've been accused of molestation is just stupid. Michael needs to surround himself with some people who will tell him the truth.

People like me.

'Cause I would say, "Mike, yuh know dem people want to throw your crazy backside in jail. Why yuh lettin' dere chil'ren up in yuh house? Are you foolish? Leave de chil'ren alone! You have three chil'ren of yuh own, why you bodderin' someboddy else pickney?"

MJ: But, Urban Sista, I love the children!

US: Man, I know you does love de chil'ren, but that ain't de point. You gon' love dem chil'ren right inta prison! And yuh know how de media does like to mek a big lotta sport concernin' you.

MJ: There isn't anything wrong with sleeping in the same bed as a child... is there?

US: Come Michael, yuh turnin' stupid or what? Yuh's a big 40-someting year old man, you tink um is right? If da is de case, you may need your tail throwin' in jail, fuh troot...

What's wrong with the parents? My sister always likes to say that she blames the parents of these allegedly molested children and I agree. Some of the blame falls on them. If you know that someone -- the nasty guy who lives in the basement apartment or Michael Jackson -- was accused of sexually assaulting children, would you allow your child to be in their presence?

Hell no.

My child would be lucky to watch Thriller -- he always grabbin' himself anyway.

So, why are people letting their kids spend the night at Neverland? Because they are smart and they are looking for a little... scratch that, a lot of money. The parents of those children need a lawsuit against them: reckless endangerment of a child.

Michael, you're getting what you deserve with Debbie Rowe - Any woman who will sell her children for a pre-arranged amount of money is definitely a gold digger. So, when Debbie Rowe agreed marry MJ and to have his three children for a specified amount, he should have known things were going to go downhill the day he stopped shelling out the dough.

It's totally ridiculous that this woman will come out of the woodwork now and want to make Michael's legal troubles worse. De man have enough on his mind without you trying to get in on the money windfall.

Go get a job and stop looking for someone to support you mangy backside.

Brother, you really don't wanna be Black anymore, do you? - Michael can make great music. Human Nature and Butterflies are two of my favourite songs. He is talented, but he is struggling with one of the worse cases of self-hatred I've ever seen. I'm not going to crack any jokes on him, 'cause I think he really needs some help and blaming a skin disease ain't going to cut it.

I'm tired of Michael and the rest of his family saying that vitiligo (you can find more information about the disease here: http://health.yahoo.com/ency/adam/000831/0) is the sole reason for Michael's... ummm... transformation. If he has the disease, I'm sorry to hear that, but that in no way explains the the way his face has changed over the past 20 years.

Tell the truth and shame the devil -- Michael's surgeries, skin bleaching or vitiligo, and his white children (a person on BP made a good point -- plastic surgery does NOT change DNA. If one of his so-called children looked completely white, sure. But all three? And that led into another discussion about if those kids are really his anyway.)

Anyway, time, and a jury, will tell if Michael is found guilty of molesting that boy. If he gets off, I hope he learns the err of his ways... but then again, look at O.J. Simpson.

A quick aside: I was watching some news magazine and they said the Michael Jackson's court case is the biggest one since O.J. I always wondered how O.J. Simpson's case was the case of the millenium, when Jeffrey Dahmer was eating folks. To me, that's the bigger story, but, hey, I don't run NBC.