No Sex In The City #21 - Confessions of A Wannabee Reality TV Star!

Black Girls Rule!

by Cousin Kim

"Kim. What part do you sing in the choir?"

It was a simple question asked in the women's locker room of the gym on a Monday morning. Yet, somehow my intuition could feel an adventure brewing by the tone of Angela's voice when she said my name. A few seconds later, I had agreed to help her with a singing audition on Friday.

Wednesday, Angela, Sheila and I rehearsed for the audition. As we ended the rehearsal with string cheese and fruit as a snack, Sheila and I asked Angela to tell us more about the audition. That's when things took an interesting turn.

We weren't just helping Angela with her audition, we were auditioning for a cable network reality show! And we were doing this after forming a trio two days before the audition and with only two hours of rehearsal. As we had no time, we decided to adopt the k.i.s.s. system--keep it simple sweetie. We planned to wear black bottoms and colorful tops on Friday.

When we arrived for the audition on Friday at Smashbox Studios, I held it in my mind that I was there to help Angela with her audition. Any other thought would have lead to "freak out" mode. Angela decided on the name Innovation for our group given the way we came together.

As we moved through each stage of the audition, we began to enjoy the fact that none of the production assistants were getting the name right. We laughed as we imagined ourselves as an punk band when one production assistant asked, "so you guys are No Nation, right?"

After waiting, rehearsing, and having photos taken of our group, we were finally called in to see the judges. The judges asked how long we'd been a group. Angela responded by looking at her watch as I chimed in "three days." The judges looked incredulous, but we later found out that there was at least one other group who'd given the same response. Then we were asked if we had any choreography. That would be a no. But we swayed side to side in unison like a well-rehearsed gospel choir dressed in hot pink tops and black stretch pants.

The first song we sang was written by Angela. We got through one verse and one chorus before they stopped us. The we sang our second song, No One by Alicia Keys. The judges asked that we sing individually and since Angela had already sung lead, they wanted to hear Sheila and I sing. Sheila sang the chorus to No One, so I followed up by singing the chorus my way. I noted that the judges' eyes widened. We were told that they wanted us back the next day. We were advised to really go for it at the call back.

We left the audition room all smiles. We'd formed a group in a few days, put in a few hours of rehearsal, and got a call back for a reality show. Stepping out of the box was fun, yet I wondered if I could maintain a carefree attitude at the call back the next day. Would the reality of what I was doing set it? If I got a yes, how would it change my life?

More to come. Stay tuned!

No Sex In The City #28 - I Remember

By Cousin Kim

I remember singing lead on
"Walkin In The Rain With The One I Love"
On stage with my friends
When I was four
I remember I only knew the chorus

I remember being five years old
and telling Mrs. Waters
That I was going to marry her son
I was only in kindergarten
But hey,
I thought she should know.

I remember wanting to love someone
Like Marcia loved Davy Jones.

I remember meeting my very first
Boyfriend
At a pajama party
The night I had my first car accident

I remember I was eighteen
and college bound.
He was dyslexic
And two grades behind me
And I loved him
More than Marcia loved
Davy Jones.

I remember seeing Prince in concert
For the very first time.
I remember a girl
Screaming uncontrollably
And realizing with Horror
That the sound was coming
From me.
I remember that I'd just turned eighteen
and had seen Purple Rain
About thirteen times.

I remember dancing to Prince tunes
at college parties in the suites
Until the walls sweated
And blue jean prints stained the paint.
I remember.

Kimestry

No Sex In The City #213 - The Spinners Performed In LA, Leaving Me Lost & Turned Out... Not!

By Cousin Kim

"I'll think about it."

For some people this means maybe, but for my cousin this means no. That is what she said when I invited her to go see the Spinners in concert. I asked a few more friends, but even my mother was not interested. Mom did however, give me a good lead on a potential concert companion--her older sister, my aunt.

I found out where my aunt's seats were and secured a seat right behind her. It seemed that as soon as I decided to see the concert, songs I rarely hear by the Spinners kept popping up on the radio all the time.




"Could It Be I'm Falling in Love" and "Working My Way Back To You" took me back to summertime in the 70's when I was just a child enjoying a play date in my cousin's garage.

On concert night, I stood in the admittance line at El Camino College and spotted my Auntie B three parties ahead of me wearing an all-white jean outfit. Once inside, she spotted her ex-husband and his wife while I cruised down to row P to find my seat.

The lights dimmed as I chatted with the woman fortunate enough to be seated next to me while I was in full chatterbox mode. She was sixty eight and we agreed that we were fortunate to be seated near the aisle so we could get up and dance if the spirit moved us. After being "taken to church" during a moving rendition of "Sadie", when the Spinners sang "We're Having a Party", I got up into the aisle to dance. As I swayed in the aisle, Charles, the lead singer, came down from the stage into the audience and danced with women along the opposite aisle.

I left the concert dancing through the parking lot and singing the doo wops that accompanied the song "Rubber Band Man". I felt happy, light and full of positive energy. This is the soundtrack of my youth, in the movie that is my life and I am grateful!

No Sex in the City: It's LA People, Let It Rain!

By Cousin Kim -The Kimestry Blog

People living in Los Angeles do not go out when it rains. We think it will make us melt. We hibernate like bears until the water stops falling and then go to the store to stock up on food items whenever there is a break in the rain.

In spite of this, I decided to go to a surprise party for a friend, in the rain, over the weekend. As I was putting on my little black dress, my friend Alma called me to see if we were still going to the party. Why? Because it was raining. After assuring her that I would be picking her up at the appointed hour and that we wouldn't disintegrate, I grabbed my umbrella and headed out to pick up our other friend Penelope. She got into my car sporting a shower cap, an umbrella, and knee high boots. She was ready.

Once we scooped up Alma, we headed through several intersections, manned by traffic cops, as the wind and rain had caused the electricity to go out on several blocks. We pulled up to the valet and I was the only one not wearing knee-high boots, my nylon-clad feet immediately got soaked as I stepped into the huge puddle of water that had gathered at the curb. Inside, a security guard came to my rescue as I struggled to close my "on the verge of being completely useless" umbrella.

Upstairs in the private rooms, the dance floor was empty and many people stood watching a slide show featuring the birthday girl. Miniature frosted cupcakes decorated every surface in the four rooms, while the waiters cruised the crowd serving cheeseburger appetizers too large to eat daintily, beef satay, and vegetarian quesidillas. Then the partygoers received word that the birthday girl was minutes away and we were herded into the dance room to await her arrival. People closest to the entrance started shushing everyone and the sociable chatter died down; even so the occasional mischievous "shhhhh" could be heard amongst the crowd.

I stood on my toes so that I could see the grand entrance. The gues of honor was escorted in, eyes closed. She opened her eyes to shouts of "surprise!" and as she laughed in delight, the DJ turned up the volume of the music. The party was on!

Even so, many of the men in the room stood along the wall clutching drinks. I had a momentary flashback to secondary school dances back in the day. After group dances like the Cuban Shuffle and the Electric Slide and a few more drinks, people seemed to loosen up and the proverbial ice was broken. After an hour of working off my dinner and the one martini I had to drink, my girls and I rested as we shared an overstuffed chair.

A gentleman asked Alma to dance and left his suit jacket on the chair arm where she'd been seated. As they walked away, I noticed that the jacket was sliding onto the floor, so I reached across the chair from the opposite arm, to save the jacket from the dust it might collect once it hit the floor. Having done so, I righted myself on the chair arm, lost my balance, and slid off the arm and onto the floor on my behind cute black dress and all. BLAM! Fortunately, I got up quickly, and since the crowd had thinned out by then, without many people noticing my acrobatics. Penelope and I could not stop laughing, however.

As we drove home carefully through the power outage areas, we all chuckled intermittedly as we recalled my unchoreographed slide to the floor. With one unplanned action I had taken giant steps toward two of my New Year's Intentions--to move more and to laugh more. Let it rain!

Introducing No Sex In The City With Cousin Kim

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No Sex In The City # 14: Who Needs A Man Or The Islands When Reggae Music Feeds Your Spirit

Single In LA, Just Jammin To The Rythmns

By Cousin Kim

Most people ducked slightly as they walked in the front door because the band was set up right next to the entrance to the cafe. At Industry Jazz Cafe in Culver City, the newly-installed booths made the space seem to open up.

I like to sit with my legs crossed, but my outstretched leg got in the way of the staff as they passed my seat at the bar. So I gave up that privilege so that the waitresses could more easily pass by to deliver hot plates of Ethiopian food and soul food staples like greens and macaroni and cheese to hungry patrons.

There was no space for dancing, but who wanted to; especially when that reggae-infused jazz jam was playing. We settled for bobbing our heads in our seats as Farzeed Farhati killed that alto saxophone during his solo. The music sounded so spontaneous and improvisational that Sandra pointed to the music stands and commented, "I'm surprised to see sheet music up there."

Almost everyone there was a friend of a band member, a local, or a friend of the guitarist, Chip Moyer who was enjoying a belated birthday celebration. What we all had in common was that we had come out on a Saturday night to support the Center for the Jazz Arts. During a short break, Guy DeFazio described the work of the center to promote the music and culture of jazz. The center created a film project for which they interviewed World War II veterans who told stories about their memories of jazz music during that time period.

The show ended at eleven pm, but patrons stayed to congratulate their musician friends on a job well done. The owner of the establishment greeted us and welcomed us to stay and socialize as the sounds of Motown songs like "Ball of Confusion" played in the background.

At midnight we finished our meals and drinks and I left the spot with red wine warming my stomach and the sounds of jazz warming my heart.

No Sex In the City #12: Cruising Towards Fall, Legs That Don't Retain Water, And That Dreamy Terrence Howard

Voyage to Ensenada (Part 1) (Part 2)

By Cousin Kim

Labor Day Weekend marked the last official weekend of the summer and I wanted to hold on for dear life! With this in mind, my friend Cathy and I decided to take a weekend cruise aboard the Carnival Paradise to Ensenada, Mexico.

My first choice, Royal Caribbean, was sold out. Okay, call me a cruise snob, but many people describe Carnival as a cruise line for college kids and families due to its affordability. As a Black single gal way past "college age", this reputation didn't really appeal to me.

But then hey, I figured a short weekend trip would be tolerable. And who knows, maybe I would meet a Terrence Howard type on board.

The ship left LA via Long Beach harbor at five thirty pm. After a tour of the spa, evening found Cathy and I sitting alone at a table for six.

Keeping my pledge to eat healthily even while on vacation, I ordered tilapia fish from the low calorie menu and skipped dessert.

However, when Cathy's dessert order, chocolate meltdown, came to the table I had to have two teaspoons full with ice cream. As my mom loves to say, it was so good... it was pornographic!

Relaxation seemed in order after our sumptuous dinner, so I chilled in the cabin for awhile before heading-up to my scheduled eight fifteen spa appointment.

My masseuse, Karen, was from the Phillipines and gave a firm Swedish message. After giving me the privacy to dress myself again, she returned to give me the subtle sales pitch.

I noted that she'd circled where I'd written on my questionnaire that I take baths for relaxation.

That explained why she'd brought a packet of Cellutox bath preparation with her. As I drank my lemon water, I listened to her describe my body as a site filled with lactic acid that could only be cured by purchasing and using the products she was selling.

"Have you observed your legs?', she asked. "They have bumps on them and are retaining water." Little did she know that I have been working out like a demon this summer, that I am in better physical shape than I was in college, and that I've lost twenty four pounds since the end of last year. In other words, I'm really feelin' myself right now.

I stared at her and declined to purchase all the product she offered. Karen was clearly unaware of who she was dealing with. I'm a thrifty Capricorn and I'd just spend one hundred and nineteen dollars, not including tip, on a fifty-minute massage. She was really pushing it with me.

Yet, in spite of this, I left my massage feeling relaxed, tranquil, and ready to take my beautiful, allegedly lactic acid-filled, Nubian Princess body to bed.

That night I dreamt of kissing fine ass Terrence Howard.

NO Sex In the City #11 - Single In LA, At One With Nature In Ojai

The Ojai Chronicles (Day 2 of 3) (Day1)

By Cousin Kim

"You are always expanding and deepening. What looks like a 'detour' to the goal-setter in you might well be a rich and enlivening direction for the 'you that is emerging'!" -- Robyn L. Posin

Clean tennis shoes or dirty? I decided on the dirty ones even though I didn't feel like the 7 am mini hike was in my future. I like to have options. Managing to dress and leave our room at The Oaks at Ojai without waking my cousin Jana, after a brief warm up downstairs, off we went on a one hour brisk walk through this beautiful Southern California town.

As we walked two abreast along the residential streets, my walking partner shared her hope that we wouldn't have to climb the hills we'd just descended on the way back. I thought to myself that she might want to conserve her breath and stop chattering away just in case we did.

Once back at the Oaks, I enjoyed a hearty low cal breakfast of oatmeal, a mini muffin, and fruit. Jana, free from her four small children and a challenging ex-husband, came down later and joined me on the poolside patio. Leaving her to enjoy agave nectar with her coffee, I went to a class called Body Awareness, which is a stretch and relaxation class.

Afterwards, while Jana did some solo shopping and visited the local museum, I opted to return to Soul Centered Book Store for another dose of metaphysical comfort. When I entered the shop, the cashier welcomed me back from the day before. "The crystal bed is available," she said as she handed me a cup of filtered water.

She then escorted me to the back room where I lay down on a bed which was essentially a slab of rock inlaid with crystals. Crystal is said to have healing properties, so I placed a large rose quartz on my chest, to open the heart chakra, and closed my eyes. At first, I was mainly aware of the conversations occurring in the store up front. Then I began to relax and the noise disappeared leaving only the sound of the calming music and a deep sense of relaxation and well being.

When I returned to the Oaks I felt calm and serene. I decided to join in the bingo game which had started up in the room. There were few participants and prizes to be won, so I figured that the odds of winning were good. Soon Jana joined me and we jockeyed five bingo cards each hoping to win a cookbook, compact disc, or dvd.

The bingo caller, who was dressed in a 50's costume, was clearly an Elvis fan obsessed with trivia. At one point, the bingo caller asked how many movies Elvis had made to which Jana and the gay man next to her answered simultaneously, "too many!" We all had a good laugh on that one as they high-fived one another.

At 8pm we were both scheduled for massages. My masseuse had two speeds--firm and firmer. It was an invigorating experience; one that left me ready for Ojai's version of night life--live music at Movino Wine Bar. We'd planned to meet two local women there for drinks. While we shared fruit and cheese, one of the locals described her recent job change. I reflected on the fact that transition was a big theme the entire weekend as the live band played and Moulin Rouge provided background visuals on a flat screen.

Tipsy after one glass of Chardonnay(yeah I know, I'm pathetic), Jana and I said goodbye to our local friends and strolled back to the Oaks ready to swan dive into our single beds and let the hum of the air conditioner accompany us into our dreams.

The serenity of Ojai fed my spirit, filled me with spirits, and gently rocked me to sleep.

No Sex In The City #6: Co-signing On Faith, Arrested Development & Tiger Balm

God Clearly Spends His Summers In Los Angeles

By Cousin Kim

Most people have favorite songs, favorite foods, or favorite television shows. I have favorite words. "Ambiance" is one of them. I like to pronounce it with a french accent lingering over the 'm' and 'n' sounds. Yet, there is one word that trumps ambiance every time. Free! Say it with me now, freeeeeeeeee!

Thursday night the Twilight Dance Series at Southern California's Santa Monica Pier featured some amazing performances for freeeeee.

Amidst the smells of kettle corn and pretzels, the Agape International Choir dressed in rainbow colors opened the show. During the choir's set, people around us complained that we were standing and they could not see from their seats in their lawn chairs.

Well, as Lisa said, "sometimes you've got to stand for the Lord." And stand we did as the choir let their light shine and the crowd praised Spirit with dance.

After a quick set change, Arrested Development took the stage. They flew in from Atlanta to perform hits from their 1992 release, 3 Years 5 Months and 2 Days in the Life Of... In only one hour Arrested Development "Fished for Religion", "Taught a man to fish", and took the crowd to "Tennessee."

They also played songs from their forthcoming album; their first release in about fourteen years. As DJ Machete X did a scratching interlude on the turntables, Deb exclaimed, "This summer has been a blast!"

After two hours of jumping on the pier's wood planks, I knew I'd have to break out that expired jar of Tiger Balm and rub some ointment on my knee when I got home. That, however, would have to wait as the unofficial, not to be missed afterparty was taking place.

The afterparty at Zanzibar was about to begin and I was hungry. With single girls in L.A. being the resouceful creatures we are, I found a fortune cookie in the glove box of my car and munched on it on the drive over. My fortune read, "Romance moves you in a new direction." I barely resisted the temptation to add the words "between the sheets" to the end of my fortune.

The Agape Choir were again in full force as were concert goers from the pier. The DJ spun world music from Africa, Brazil, and Latin America. As I danced to Latin music with a group of friends, everyone seemed to pair off until I was left to dance alone.

After a few moments, a tall willowy Latino man emerged from the crowd and began to lead me in a steamy salsa dance. He moved like a matador and I was temporarily his cape.

We danced for quite some time and I noticed that he knew all the words to the Spanish songs, while I knew all the words to Eric B and Rakim's Paid in Full.

Throughout my time at Zanzibar that night, I never stopped moving. After all, everyone knows that your feet don't hurt when you're dancing.

Two hours later, in addition to the two hours we'd already put in at the pier, the group consensus was that it was time to depart. C'mon, it was Thursday night and someone had to be up early for work the next day; not me, but someone.

So we said goodbye to our friends, formed a spontaneous conga line, and snaked through the crowd.

Pausing only to speak to our friend Vince who'd just arrived at midnight, I sealed the night with a kiss and partied out the front door toward that expired jar of Tiger Balm.

Ahhhh, to God be the glory!

NO SEX IN THE CITY #4: SINGLE WEEKEND GIRL TAKES ON THE WEEKDAY IN LOS ANGELES

Ex-Chippendale Dancer And Bald, Salsa-Dancing

Business Owner Add Spice To Manic Monday

by Cousin Kim

"I have never seen three beautiful women at one table before". He told us that he was eighty years old and had been coming to Hal's Bar and Grill in Venice (yes the oceanside community known as Muscle Beach) for a long time. As he walked away, we clinked glasses and toasted the beautiful ones---us.

It was Monday night in LA and I'm usually a weekend girl, but Bobby Matos was playing at Hal's that night. The sounds of Latin rhythms infused with African beats truly brought out the motherland in all of us as we danced in our booth over chicken dishes and hot apple cobbler a la mode.

I could smell the testosterone in the air and it got good to me. A gentleman with a ruddy complexion approached the table. He wore shorts and sandals and was obviously a sailor. "I know you. I saw you on match.com", he said to my friend Brandi. She happened to be wearing the same necklace as she wore in one of the photos in her ad.

He went on to describe her other photos and where he'd seen her out on the town before. He said he liked to dance until he sweated and used to be a Chippendale's dancer. He sounded like a perfect match for my friend Brandi, who loves to dance and has an extremely youthful apprearance although she qualifies for the senior discount. After a few minutes of great conversation, however, he did not ask for her number and Brandi wasn't willing to give him her number unsolicited.

Our friend Cat, who was visiting from Florida, took the initiative. With help from the green post it notes I carried in my purse and a pen, she scribbled Brandi's number with her name and a happy face.

Sidling up to the bar, she handed the note to the sailor explaining that Brandi was really shy but she wanted him to have her number. He accepted the number gratefully, admitting that it was easier to call her directly rather than trying to go through the web site.

With Brandi all taken care of, now I was on the lookout for myself. I spotted a handsome man with a bald head wearing a Kangol cap and gold square framed glasses. I'd spotted him earlier, but when I looked at him he looked away. I leaned over to Brandi. "I saw him earlier and I smiled at him, but he looked away. I think he's probably shy." As I was looking to my left, whispering to Brandi, unbeknownst to me he was approaching on my right. Brandi replied, "He doesn't look shy to me." When I turned he was already crouching down next to me just a few inches away.

He complimented me on my sexy dancing earlier and the way my hair moved when I danced. He liked the long, chocolate brown halter top I wore. It had a low neckline and tied across my lower back leaving the rest of my back exposed. He was a professional, a business owner.

We danced together on the small dance floor right in front of the band. The saxophone blared as we danced basic salsa moves. I grabbed both his hands as we rocked side to side and then I taught him how to spin me. Meanwhile, his cousin sat at the booth, where they'd had dinner, yawning.

Once he returned to his table, my cell number programmed into his phone, my girls and I hit the dance floor again. We danced with abandon, like only girls can, me adding Cuban kicks to my salsa steps and Cat moving her arms gracefully as only a true dancer can. By twelve thirty, people filtered out and we were one of the few parties left. We danced until the band played its final song, took pictures, said a farewell to Cat and departed. "So this is what people do on Monday nights", I thought as I walked to my car.

Vacation Kim has got to come out more often.