It’s 7:00pm on Thursday night, and I’m on my way home when my cell phone rings. It’s Big D Girl. I adore Big D Girl; so, I excitedly answer the phone by chanting, “Big D Girl, Big D Girl, Big D Girl!!!” We giggle like school children. Then, we get down to business. She asks: “Are you going out tonight?” My plan is to go home, return phone calls, do laundry and be a responsible adult. “Weeeeeell,” I start. “I was on my way home, buuuuut I could meet up with you guys. Where are you going?”

Forty-three minutes later, I’m sitting at a trendy bar with Big D Girl, Big T Man, Pocahontas, The Black Man and Jane. We’re surrounded by booming music, comfy lounge chairs and beautiful people. We laugh as we sip from our glasses of Mojito, Pino Grigio, Cosmopolitan, and new cocktails that the waitress has set in front of us. Our topic of discussion? “What’s the wildest thing that you’ve ever done, you know, sexually?” I can’t be completely sure, but I think the winning story came from the person who once had sex with a female prositute who, in reality, turned out to actually be a man. I love New York.

Five hours and several cocktail rounds later, it’s midnight. Shit! I owe the Fair Maiden & The Bride return phone calls, but it’s too late to call. And, I haven’t called The Groom to remind him that he’s the third guest on Dating Roadkill on Monday. I haven’t spoken to my schmoopy-pie Sid in DAYS!!!! And, not to mention, my friend MD flies in from Chicago tomorrow for the New Year’s Eve weekend — but, I haven’t done anything to prepare for his visit. For example, all of my spare towels are dirty & I haven’t cleaned my bathroom. Procrastination. How and why does it always happen to me?????? One of my goals for the New Year is to organize my life a little better. New Year. 2007. Hmmmm … how about you? Any goals, resolutions, or plans for the New Year? And — because I’m a nosy sum bitch — tell me, what are you doing for New Year’s Eve?

At the risk of offending every single pet-owning reader out there, I say this: “please, just let the damn thing die.” I mean it. If I hear one more person complain about their drug-addicted, sweater-clad, blind, deaf, arthritic housepet, I swear I’m gonna scream. Let it die. Better yet, be the bigger person and help the damn thing along — Kill It.

Why this post? I’ve recently learned that my friend Mags’ dog, Mikey, is 105 years old in human years. And, he suffers from chronic ear affections, collapsed anal glands, arthritis, Alzheimer’s *AND* he can’t jump up so he needs to be carried like a small child *AND* he had a stroke 6 weeks ago. Still, her parents just spent more than $1,000 in vet bills to keep him alive. People!!! God put animals on this earth for one reason and one reason alone: To Be Eaten. ;) So, if you own a pet, please take this short quiz to see whether or not you should, er, well, just let the damn thing die:

1. When you call your pet by its name, can it hear you?
2. Can your pet see you? Does it bump into walls?
3. If you convert your pet’s age to “human years”, would your pet be considered geriatric?
4. Does your pet piss or vomit inside of your house regularly?
5. Last summer, did you spend more $$$ to keep your pet alive than you did on your shoes for the season?
6. Is your pet missing an arm or a leg?
7. Do you lovingly administer AeroKat (pictured) or AeroDawg to your asmatic pet?
8. Is your pet in therapy?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, please be advised that your pet is currently “living dead” — a being, much like Keith Richards, that appears to be living but is actually part of the walking dead in our midst. Please, get rid of it. Put it to sleep. Use whatever code phrase you want to use as a substitute for the simple truth that it’s time to just let the damn thing die!!

So, I’m out partying with Sid, Bro, Uri and a bunch of other folks the night before I leave for the holidays. My plane is scheduled to depart at 6:00AM. I do the math. (… “If I need to be at La Guardia 60 minutes prior to departure … and I have to budget enough time to get there and I still need to pack … um, wait, where was I … What? It’s almost 1:00AM, you say? Okay, time for one more beer. Whose round is it?!?!?” …) So, then, before I know it — it’s morning. The day of my flight. After sleeping for less than 4 hours, I wake up at 5:01AM and I think, “OH. SHIT. My plane boards in 24 minutes, and I haven’t even left the house. And, I haven’t packed yet. And, I’m hungover. Not good.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I understand you, ma’am. I get it. I have to wait here at the airport and fly standby on the next open plane because I missed my original flight. But, what I *don’t* get is this: why. are you. talking. so. LOUD????? … What’s that you say? You’re not talking loud? Oh. Yeah. Ma’am, I appreciate your concern. But, I can assure you that I am not drunk.

So, now it’s 4:00PM. I’m still at the airport. I’ve been waiting for any empty seat on any plane for approximately 9 hours. Holiday travel. All planes are booked. Nevertheless, I’ve been assured that I will be able to travel on the 5:45PM flight to Chicago Midway. Unfortunately, something goes wrong and somehow — and only the sweet little baby Jesus knows exactly how — the airline mixes up the boarding passes and double books or bumps nearly 1/3 of the plane. Chaos. The airline’s people get frustrated with all of the angry customers and crying babies so they tell us: “Just board the plane and sit in any empty seat!!” And, board we all do. It’s a free for all, so I make a quick dash for the gate. But, my boarding pass doesn’t work for some reason. No worries. They allow me to board anyway. In the end, the flight (and I) arrive in Chicago safely.

Hmmm … I remember when I first arrived at the airport’s security checkpoint, they made me get rid of my Bath & Body Works Cucumber Melon Hand Lotion. The liquid, I was told, could be a security threat. So, here’s what I don’t get … At the boarding gate, they let a good chunk of people get on the plane even though the airline’s system didn’t recognize our boarding passes. If I follow this correctly: scented hand lotion equals security threat, unauthorized persons on an aircraft equals good???? Who knows … Maybe they’re right. I mean, you know, I certainly *felt* safer knowing that neither my nor anyone else’s hands smelled like Cucumber Melon on the plane. Anyway, I wonder … does anyone else out there have any travel (plane, train or automobile) horror stories. If so, you know the drill … share ‘em in the comment section.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!! I’m heading out of town but, as promised, I didn’t want to leave without sharing my Fake Christmas Album with you. The title of this album is “Stockings on Their Dicks” and it’s dedicated to each and everyone of you.

STOCKINGS ON THEIR DICKS: A Fake Christmas Album

Track 1: All I Want for Christmas is a Good Man
Track 2: Jingle My Bells
Track 3: The Urban Christmas Rap
Track 4: Happy Christmahanukwanzaa
Track 5: In New York, It’s Pronounced “Hanukkah”
Track 6: The Funky Brown Chick Sent Me
Track 7: Santa Got Mugged on Park Avenue
Track 8: Rumor Has It That Santa’s Elves Are All Total Whores
Track 9: Tis the Season to Gain Weight
Track 10: Stockings on Their Dicks (Hidden Track)

About the title of Track 6, The Funky Brown Chick Sent Me … Based on a game on Michele Agnew’s blog, I’ve come up with an idea that will spread a little holiday cheer. The first person to comment on my blog should wish me “Happy Holidays.” Then, the next person to comment should do the same thing *AND* leave a comment on the blog of the person whose comment appears before yours. The comment should say, “The Funky Brown Chick sent me. Happy Holidays to you and your family”, or something like that. Easy enough? Leave a comment. Check who left a comment before you. Visit their blog. Leave a holiday greeting there telling ‘em that the Funky Brown Chick sent you. Tis the season. It’s a great wait to discover a new blog & spread a little holiday cheer. So, what are you waiting for?

Ever the procrastinator, I’m finishing up the last of my Christmas shopping today after work. Can you believe it’s almost Christmas? Maaaaan, where did the year go? As promised, I’m putting the wraps on my second fake album, a Christmas album. I hope to post it up tomorrow before I leave for the holidays. Until then, tell me, have *you* finished your Christmas shopping? And, if you don’t celebrate Christmas, have you finished preparing for Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, or your Winter holiday of choice?

I can’t believe Dating Roadkill, my new internet radio show & podcast launches in less than two weeks!! (Read a description of the show here.) A few of you have emailed me to ask specific questions about the show. And, since several of the questions actually overlap each other, I thought I’d do a Dating Roadkill 101 post on my blog in case other people have similar questions.

The most common question is: “What is internet radio and how do I listen to your show?” Basically, internet radio is just like regular radio. Difference #1. You listen to it directly on your computer instead of on the radio. So, instead of call letters like “WGCI” or “WBUR” or “KFNX” or “PRI”, internet radio stations have web addresses. Dating Roadkill is on BlogTalkRadio. Difference #2. You can listen to internet radio whenever you want to. If you’re not near a computer at 10:00pm on Monday, January 1 when Dating Roadkill airs, you can listen to it whenever you’d like either directly online or simply send the show to your iPod. Visit BlogTalkRadio for instructions on how to do either. (Hint: to hear the really really rough test run, you just have to visit the site and click one of the three buttons: play, download, or podcast.)

Okay, so, the other question that some of you have asked is: “How can I be on the show?” Two ways: be a guest or be a caller. Guests are booked in advance & they’re already in the virtual studio when the show starts. For example, the January 1 segment topic is “Worst Dating Stories Ever.” One of my guests is a woman who had a guy dine & ditch. He sneaked out and secretly left her sitting at the table with a $300.00 bill. Another guest is a French/American guy who had a horrible first date with a woman who not only turned out to be very odd, she also hated French food. One of my other guests is a woman who … actually, you know what? … I’m not gonna tell you. You’ll have to tune in to hear her tell her story herself because it’s actually really good. So, yeah, those are guests. Callers, on the other hand, are people who listen to the live show and then call in to comment, ask a question, or share a related story of their own.

That’s Dating Roadkill. I just set up a MySpace page; to get the full program schedule as well as other stuff, add the show as one of your friends. Okay, so, I think that’s everything. But, of course, you can always shoot me an email if you have any other questions. Wish me luck!

Hiya! It’s me. The Funky Brown Chick. I don’t know you and you don’t know me but, the other day while scanning various blogs, I stumble across your site and I think: “Ooh, goody, this person links to me!” But, then I get a closer look. And, I grow slightly distressed. Now, Kyla, I should probably first explain — with complete sincerity & without an ounce of sarcasm — that I always feel really honored when other bloggers like my blog enough to link to it. I’m just, you know, a bit shocked to see what *you’ve* written about my blog. On your site, you have two lists of bloggers. About the bloggers in the first list, you say: “these lives interest me.” The bloggers in the other list? About them you say the following [and I quote]: “don’t know if I’d necessarily recommend them, but I read them sometimes.” Sadly, of course, FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com is on that list.

Kyla, Kyla, Kyla. Sweetie, I’m hurt. Why don’t you have cyberlovin’ for me? Do I smell? Does The Funky Brown Chick offend you? Is there too much mention of boobies & boys around here? I’m not quite sure what it is, but I can only hope to gain your affection one day. SO, here’s hoping that you might eventually read my blog more often than “sometimes”. And, maybe, if I’m lucky, you’ll recommend FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com to your readers one day. Until then, I dedicate this Reader Appreciation Day to you, my sweet. So, let the lovin’ begin …

I *Heart* You People! This reader Appreciation Day celebrates the following blogs because they link to the FBC: To i mean business [Yes, Kyla, that's you], Green Apple Martini, Land of AWE, Darwin Awards - Why Not?, One Fine Day, But Enough About You, Rhyme of the Day, Canadian Down Under, Everything I Know, Christy Needs to Blog, The Miscellaneous, Mischievous Misadventures of Missbhavens [*], On the Rant Again, A Think Tank of One, House of cats[*], Erigby - She Likes it Raw, Hello Like Before, Savoir-faire, Poppy Cedes, The Write Grrl, From the Edge of a Precipice,The Web Pen Blog, | - || BeXMeiSteR StrEEt || - |, I’m not really a complete dork - I just play one on The Internet, St. Disgruntled (The patron saint of hate)[*], life’s a commotion![*], Twirled, African American Opinion, Weird Dating Mail, Mazingamy.blogspot.com, Acting Blonde, Confessions of a Geeky Blogger, and The Next Chapter; to the “dearly departed” and deeply missed blogs that have not been updated in months (i.e. Sublimely Mundane, blog crack, Tiger Wasteland, Mint Chutney, and others); and, finally, to the bloggers that I’ve met in person: Maria from Maiden New York (in a post on her blog, this sexy chick uses words like “intelligent”, “very attractive”, and “petite” to describe me … and, for that, I love her), BelleDame from Fetch me my axe[*], The Fake Doctor from Ah Yes, Medical School[*], Nics from Much Work Ahead, Sid from Siddity in the City, and Sober from Three New York Women …

I appreciate you! Thanks for supporting this blog.

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See “[*]” after your blog? That’s meant to publicly shame you into updating. :) I moved to FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com months ago; remember to update your link.

So, I’m reading this Craigslist posting about New York City when I start to wonder: what’s up with guys and strippers? Okay, wait, let me back up a bit. Craigslist. If you haven’t read that posting, I should probably explain that it’s written by a guy who relocated from New York to Chicago, and he now misses New York. “I miss,” he writes, “those guys in the yellow vests handing out flyers for ‘Flashdancers’ on the corner as though strip clubs were just another form of entertainment (which they are) and not some horrible, shocking den of sin.”

Horrible. Shocking. Den of sin? I’m not so sure that’s the first phrase that comes to mind when I think about strip clubs, but I will admit that I don’t really understand why men find them so appealing. Okay, yeah, I’m not an idiot: HOT CHICKS + BIG BOOBS = SEXY. I get that. But, what I don’t get is this: If a man knows that he can only see but not touch the hot chick with the big boobs, why is that entertainment? Is that not torture?

Manly Monday. Call me crazy, but, I really can’t think of *any* man who would find it entertaining to watch his wife or girlfriend take off all of her clothes and gyrate against a metal pole while withholding sex & using a sing-songy voice to say, “you can loooook but not toouch!” Such behavior would make most of the guys that I know feel frustrated, pissed off, or manipulated. And, they’d call the woman who did that a cocktease. So, here’s the question again: what’s up with guys and strippers? (And, a related question, what’s up with guys and prostitutes?)