From the monthly archives:

March 2008

NYC’s Julia Allison in The New York Times, part II

Sometimes it’s hard to remember that New York isn’t the center of the universe. Such was the case on Sunday when I cracked open a fresh copy of the New York Times (…online, by double clicking the orange and blue Firefox icon). Julia Allison. “Maybe, just maybe,” Leslie Kaufman’s article starts, “if Carrie Bradshaw, the dynamo at the center of the phenomenally successful television series ‘Sex and the City,’ were still in her 20s and just starting her ascent into New York life in 2008, maybe, just maybe, she would be like Julia Allison.”

“Are you shitting me?” I asked my laptop’s computer screen. “Julia Allison™ is in the Times?”

Full disclosure: although I hail from the same Midwestern locale that she does, I don’t know Julia Allison. I’ve recently spotted her across the room at various parties, but we’ve not yet met. Nevertheless, almost everyone I know has a J-Al Story. “She saved me a seat at XXX event” or “she came to our XXX party” or “yeah, I went to her birthday party” or “oh God, she went to New Trier and that explains everything.” It kinda feels like I’m in high school again and everyone wants to tell me their tale about the popular girl. But, this isn’t high school. It’s real life, adult life. So, the rules change a bit. Our “it” girl isn’t a cheerleader; she’s a columnist for one of the community’s weekly listings magazine, Time Out New York. And, sure, the daily newspaper just did a story about her. But, the “local paper” has more than 1 million readers. It’s the Gray Lady. The New York Times. The largest metropolitan newspaper in the United States.

“If Carrie Bradshaw were coming to New York today,” the Times quotes Julia, “she would be me.”

Self-aggrandizing? Maybe. But, here’s the thing … Is she 100% right? Probably. In fact, nearly everyone who writes words about dating gets compared to Carrie Bradshaw. My personal favorite? Folks who’ve called me Carrie Brownshaw or Carrie Blackshaw. Ooh, ooh, ooh … and let us not forget this lovely comment:

Can’t you be a bit more original … your not CARRIE BRADSHAW!!!…me thinks you’ve been watching way too much Sex and the City, your blog entry is bordering on plagiarism. Been reading your blog here and at Nerve and have noticed over the past couple of weeks and finding your tales very unbelievable. FBC used to be a good read, but I fear she is slowly disappearing up her own a-hole to please her growing audience and popularity.

I climbed out of my own asshole long enough to respond:

Regarding your Carrie Bradshaw comment … Many people live in New York City. Many people date here. And, they all have stories. That doesn’t mean that every New York dating story = Sex in the City. I think Rachel Kramer Bussel said it best. “I’ll be thrilled,” she writes on one of her blogs, “if no one ever makes a totally lazy, ridiculous Carrie Bradshaw comparison ever again.” If I’ve learned anything about New York in the two years that I’ve lived here, [I've learned] that New Yorkers value originality. Please respect mine. And, if you are going to criticize my writing, please be original in your criticism.

That is what it is. Whatever. The Carrie stuff doesn’t bother me; I actually think it’s kind of entertaining of humorous. But, back to Julia Allison. Yesterday, I commented that the Times piece was a “great article about New York life.” Indeed it is. Hmm, a girl from Illinois moves to the Big City with dreams of doing something more with her life than marching in step with the rest of the crowd? Yeah, I can certainly relate. How does that song go? “If you can make it here …”

Near the close of the article, the Times writer says, Julia is committed to “reaching for the gold ring, no matter how many time she is slapped back.” I say: as long as she isn’t hurting (or disrespecting) others or herself, let the girl reach I guess. Everybody’s got dreams, and Julia definitely seems to be going for hers. Kudos to her for making it into the New York Times.

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* By the way …. I’m only following up on this story because I said, “more later” yesterday. Now, back to our regularly scheduled program. Manly Mondays (or Testicle Tuesdays) coming up soon.

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NYC’s Julia Allison in New York Times

I just checked out today’s NY Times and I noticed a fellow New York sex/dating/relationships writer & blogger, Julia Allison, is featured in the city section. Read it here. It’s a great article about New York life. More on that later. (Here it is: Julia Allison in the New York Times.) I’m heading out to meet up with V. for movie & drinks. Have a happy Sunday my lovelies!

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{ 3 folks got down with the Funky Brown }

How I Became a Soccer Fan

I used to live in central London. When I say that, I don’t mean it in the American “I was a study abroad student for four months, so now I tell people I lived in London” sense. I mean I got a blue passport, paid for a valid work visa and loaded up a big black backpack before boarding a one-way flight from Chicago O’Hare to London Heathrow. I was an expatriate. Why did I do it? I wasn’t sure what else to do with my life. I’d applied to grad school at UCLA, but they rejected me. Life Lesson #186: Always Have a Back Up Plan.

I didn’t know anyone in Britain’s capital city, so my immediate goals were to find housing and a job. I worked as a bartender in a traditional English pub called The Mitre because it was a “two-fer.” Random trivia fact: the word pub is short for public house. The folks who work downstairs in the public bar live in the upstairs house for free.

A pale-skinned British guy named Martin managed the place with his sexy, thin, pretty, brown Indian girlfriend named Zen and an English guy named Darren. I’d have to check my written journals to be sure, but if I remember correctly, my roommates / coworkers included exactly: 2 Aussie boy bartenders, 2 Aussie girl bartenders, 1 Irish cook, an Italian girl & African guy who served as barbacks who went home at the end of the night instead of living with us upstairs. (I don’t know why.)

It was a World Cup year, so the pub was always crowded with drunken Brits singing “Three Lions” and other cheer songs for their beloved national team. England and South Africa had teams running across the green pitch on our pub’s “telly.” It was the year Beckham kicked a player and was sent off with a red card. Pushing my way through the crowds, serving pints as I spilled lager, ale and cider down my hand and arms, I came across a burly Englishman with St. George’s Cross on the front of his white shirt. He got in my face and yelled, “Your team lost!” I spit back, “I’m not South African. I’m American.” He looked completely baffled, as if I’d told him, “I come from the future.” Life Lesson # 674: Europeans Are Often Surprised By the Large Number of Brown-skinned People in America.

I remember the swell of the crowd’s cheer, the intense concentration with which the men watched the game, and the fans’ sheer dedication and commitment to their World Cup teams. It was as if World War II was reenacted, and civilians sat spectator as they watched the battles play out before their eyes. Supporters rooted for their home countries, and nearly everyone hated Germany. The fervor was equally intense as it was intoxicating. What’s more? All the all players had fit, streamlined bodies that were propped up by powerful legs and rock-hard asses. The excitment. The skill. The enthusiasm. The boys. A woman who’d shunned sports for 89.5765% of her life, I knew I’d found a new love.

Life Lesson #892: Soccer is called football, and it is a truly beautiful game.

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NOTE: Why this post today? Heads up, the next Manly Monday post is about my newest favorite soccer player. Anyone wanna guess who it is?

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Wanker Wednesday: David Beckham Shows Anderson Cooper His Balls

Three days ago. Did you catch it? Anderson Cooper interviewed David Beckham on 60 minutes. I’m not sure which was more satisfyingly — watching the actual interview or reading the headlines that came out about it. Anderson Cooper Looking To Score With David Beckham and Anderson Cooper Tries to Block David Beckham’s Balls. Love it. A lot of the leads were ridiculously thinly veiled speculations about The Coop’s sexuality. Is he gay or isn’t he? Quite frankly, I don’t care. He’s gorgeous. I like to look at The Coop. And, the interview with Beckham made it that much easier for me to imagine myself snuggled in between that yummy boysandwich. Pretty boys with streamlined bodies? Yum. Anyway, so, in case you missed the actual interview, here are three highlights. (Yes, technically, today is “wanker wednesday” since I co-opted Manly Monday this week; but, no, I don’t think either of the boys are wankers.)

1. The Beckham “Tattoo Tour”
Oh my dear sweet Buddha with a big round belly. Apparently, Goldenballs has 15 sets of inkings covering various parts of his delicious little body. I’m not usually a fan of men covered in tattoos (9:08 – 9:40 in the video below) because I think it looks kind of tacky. But, Beckham rocks the look without any problems.

2. Goldenballs.
Anderson asked Beckham if it’s true that: (a) his wife calls him “Goldenballs” and (b) he prances around with his two little jewels stuffed inside of Victoria “Posh Spice” Beckham’s panties. D. Becks’ answers: yes to the first, no to the second. But, in both cases, he was visibly uncomfortable answering and I swear I saw the soccer chap actually blush a little bit as he pulled his collar and asked, “Is it getting hot in here?” He looked almost as uncomfortable as he was when The Coop asked him about him about money (5:48 – 5:58). So British. By the way, the the moneymaking Goldenballs question isn’t in the video below, but you can it on Yahoo!

3. Bend It Like Beckham
Okay, so, this part (8:03 – 9:08) was 100% completely overrated. CBS was all like, hey Beckham’s gonna demonstrate his “bend it” technique for the first time ever!!!! Um, hasn’t he been doing that on TV for ages, now? But, whatever. It was good to see it again. And, speaking of “seeing it,” I snagged the full Becks-Coop clip below from the ever-lovely Gawker. Enjoy! (Pssst! If you wanna see a shirtless Beckham, keep your eyes peeled during the like 4:51 to 4:56 mark. Best 5 seconds ever!)

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{ 9 folks got down with the Funky Brown }

A Night on My Own

It’s almost 10:30pm here in the city, and I feel soooo relaxed. For the first time in waaaay too long, I went straight to the apartment after work, and I didn’t write when I got home. I responded to outstanding emails, set up my schedule and calendar for the coming month & did other stuff to organize my life. Yes, it was super low key. No, it’s wasn’t anything super FUN or SEXY in capital letters. But, I really think I needed to take some time to myself to get stuff in order. And, you know what? I’m actually going to bed before midnight tonight. Sometimes the best “dates” are the ones you make with yourself.

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{ 9 folks got down with the Funky Brown }

Sexpot Meets Goddess: Drinks with Abiola Abrams

I reject the term “relationships expert” because it sounds silly, and I’m a don’t believe anyone is an expert at relationships. Here’s my theory: if you’re doing it right, you’re a constant work in progress. So, I prefer the title sexpot. I’m a writer | blogger | editor | sexpot who uses the moniker “Funky Brown Chick.” Pressing our lips to glasses filled with margaritas, fellow brown-skinned writer — that goddess Abiola Abrams from BET — and I talked about race, sexuality and what it means to be “black enough” in America today. Read the details when my piece at Nerve magazine is published online later today. And, if you live in New York, drop by Abiola’s 6:00 pm reading tonight at Barnes & Noble at Lincoln Center!!

I’ve got race & sexuality on the brain because I recently read the Racialicious interview with Gawker’s former brown-skinned advice columnist (now at Radar) Tionna Smalls. If you missed the drama, here’s the recap. Gawker hired a black woman whose pieces were flush with grammatical errors, Black Vernacular English and straight-talk lessons learned from “the hood.” Given that Gawker’s audience and writing staff are predominantly white hipsters, people wondered if Tionna’s presence on the scene was a minstrel show. (Read: Who Played Whom? Gawker Media and Tionna Smalls.)

Now, for those who read FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com on a regular basis, you know we usually celebrate Manly Monday at the top of the week. We’ll have Testicle Tuesdays tomorrow instead. Topic? Anderson Cooper’s Sunday night 60 Minutes interview with David Beckham. It was delicious. The Coop and Becks together? Hey, I heard Barack Obama’s speech on race! I’m 100% willing to join that threesome and let the interracial healing begin! ;) Details tomorrow.

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{ 16 folks got down with the Funky Brown }

Cougars and Cubs: Older Women, Younger Men

Is it true — as the guys in this video claim — that all boys fantasize about older women? “As a kid [...] you naturally are attracted to an older female. You wanna bone your teacher. You wanna bone your best friend’s mother. You wanna bone, you know, the woman across the street … you know what I mean … secretly when her husband‘s at work. You kind of have these natural fantasies.”

Heeeeeeere, little cubbies. Wanna come out and play? As many of you know, my “engagement” to Sweet-Faced, Bearded Kid is off. So, here’s what I’ve been thinking. Is it time for this fit 30-something cougar to find a new , spry, 20-something boytoy? Maybe. Maybe not. In any case, I saw the video above over at current.com.

Remember this photo? I created it for a previous post on urban cougars almost a year ago. Lots of interesting feedback and comments on that one. Now that there are a few new folks on the blog, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Are you a cougar or a cub? Do you tend to date older or younger or exactly within your age range? And, why?

Related posts:
The Manly Men of Yelp.com
Urban Cougars and their Young Boytoys

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