The Urban Erma

The Power of Christ Annoys Thee

One of the things I like about running at my local outdoor track, instead of on the treadmill at the gym, is that nobody bothers me, until now. As I was finishing my first lap a woman in a sun hat, flowered dress, and sensible shoes tried to hand me a religious tract, while I’m running on the track. Say that three times fast why dontcha. When I’m working out, I don't carry a handbag and fanny packs are undignified. So where did she expect me to put a pamphlet? I had a few ideas, but all seemed rude and vaguely illegal. YOU CAN CLICK HERE NOW TO READ THE BLOG

Thank You Chick-fil-A

I’ve actually been trying to enjoy my summer so I’m a little late to the party on the national news. There seems to have been a bit of hoopla over statements made by Chick-fil-A’s president in his support for “traditional” marriage and therefore his de facto stance against gay marriage. (It presupposes, of course, that one group has the right to decide which definition of traditional we’re all supposed to be abiding by. Forgive my unease, but historically this hasn’t always worked out for women, the poor, or the naturally tan but, you know, whatever.) Moving right along. CLICK HERE TO READ THE BLOG

Brow Beating: Coming in Hot, Fast & Mad

I went to get my eyebrows done the other day. I get them threaded now instead of waxed. I can't really say that one is less painful than the other. I suspect years of waxing has probably just deadened the feeling in that part of my face.

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Price Match Death Match

I received a text message from Best Buy telling me the happy news: “Your entry last month has WON!” Nice! But since I hadn’t entered any contests at Best Buy I resisted the urge to click on the link and claim my $1,000 gift card. Later that same week I heard my local news readers warn us all to "Beware the Gift Card Texting Scam, News at 11!" How did I know? Easy. The company that sweats giving me a $50 product price match would probably not be doling out a $1,000 gift card to one of its crankiest customers. (Click here to read more about my travails at Best Buy.) CLICK HERE NOW TO READ THE BLOG

Hot Wings, Wine & Moonshine

Here’s to the Estrogen Weekend

Back in the day, I used to hang out with My Girls like we had all the time in the world. And we did. We had time to go to class, parties, step shows, and community service projects. We had time to take road trips to do more of the same. It was awesome. When we weren’t road tripping, we sat up all night and talked about our plans. We mapped out who we were going to be, what we were going to do, and how fast we were going to do it. And I think it has indeed gone by quicker than we ever thought possible. CLICK HERE NOW TO READ THE BLOG

Who Am I? DNA Don't Lie

I wish I could say that I got myself DNA tested because of some deep desire to know who my ancestors are. If you’re African- or Caribbean-American you just accept the fact that you’re mixed. I wanted to get the lowdown on my ancestral DNA for the same reason I’ve considered getting my masters degree in sociology: for the jokes. CLICK HERE NOW TO READ MORE

New Kids on the Boat

I recently found myself performing on a charter music cruise headlined by New Kids on the Block. You heard me. I’m not big on boy bands but I was just a wee bit sorry that it wasn’t Boyz to Men. [Insert sly smile and small swoon here.] In case you didn’t know, New Kids on the Block rebranded themselves NKOTB. This is cute but it must make it hard on their dyslexic fans. I bet some of those poor ladies ended up on the MFSB cruise jamming to “Love is the Message.” CLICK HERE TO READ THE BLOG

Daddy’s Girl: The Flavor of Fatherhood

I remember the first time (and last time) I saw The Flavor of Love and thinking: Maybe if we had more daddies who paid attention instead of fathers who just paid support, this kind of thing wouldn’t happen. CLICK HERE NOW TO READ THE BLOG

Confessions of a Wannabe Rollerblade Queen

There was a Little Girl of about nine or 10 years old rollerblading on my local running track. Well, she wasn’t so much blading as she was stomping around like Frankenstein and trying not to fall down. It was pitiful. Parents buy their kids bicycles knowing they'll have to teach them how to ride but this doesn't happen with roller skates or blades, probably because parents themselves don't know how to skate. READ MORE

NOTE: This week's @TheUrbanErma Blogcast is also  on YouTube. http://youtu.be/K9QKeA7kJiI

Dead Dick: Not a Viagra Story

I was on a gig recently when a woman I was working with got the news that her mother had passed away. When she whispered it to me, I couldn’t help but stare at her in astonishment. I knew her mom was not well and that her passing was imminent, but what shocked me was that my friend wasn’t curled up in a blathering blob on the floor. All entertainers know that “the show must go on” but it’s different when your life is the one that’s falling apart behind the scenes. READ MORE