devonly randomonium

Sugar-coated effery and shenanigans.


Hey guys and gals! Sorry I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been a little busy…and a whole lotta lazy. Not that you care. But if you do, I missed you too boo boo. I promise to get “write” back on track….bah dump, dump!

Anyway, (dodging your side eyes) I wanted to chime in on Hurgate 2012. What is that? The hur (hair) scandal that shook up the Olympics. I’m not going to lie. When I saw little Gabby Douglas, I did give her hair situation the side eye. But, I gave the side eye to all of the gymnasts’ hur situations. Their poor edges! (Girls, stop pulling those ponytails so tight!) But not once did I think Gabby’s hair was unmanageable, nor did I judge her on her hair alone. I knew she was a tiny dynamo, and I’m glad she did her thing.

Here’s my beef. The girl won two gold medals. She accomplished more in her 16 years on this planet than any of us every will. So I don’t understand why some of your cousins felt the need to attack her about her hair. Actually, I do. One word, eight letters.


Unlike most of us who would cut a trick for talking about our hur, Gabby shook off the haters and proved she was a true class act. I admire her enthusiasm and positivity. I also appreciate the fact that she didn’t act all stank this week when she didn’t get a medal. I think she is a great role model to young girls, and I pray she doesn’t end up in one of those random big booty trollop magazines you see at the gas station.

So where am I going with this?

As I drove to work yesterday, I caught the end of Jacque Reid’s TJMS interview with Sophia Nelson, author of Black Women Redefined. Ms. Nelson said something that grabbed my attention. She mentioned that a scientific study found black women to be the most unattractive of all ethnic groups. What the French, toast? How terrible is that! And why someone felt the need to even do that study boggles my mind. It was really unbelievable to hear that. Ms. Nelson went on to explain that because we’re hearing stuff like this from the media, we’re basically repeating these things within the black community. You can listen to the full interview here.

Hearing that really made me think. I have my battles with self-image. One day, I might think I look just as good as one of those video chicks. Another day, I might think I look like Miss Sophia(as in “You told Harpo to beat me” Miss Sophia.) But I try to reserve my shade for those who really deserve it.  To me, those who deserve it are those broads who shellac on MAC, eat a grape for lunch, sew in Barbie hair and then turn their noses up at you because they think they are the coldest. I’ve come across them from time to time, and I find it to be extremely sad. You can buy every product at the MAC counter, get every dimple lasered off your ass, bathe in the blood of virgins and wear chinchilla lashes, but if your attitude is horrible, you’re not a bombshell. You’re just a straight up bitch.

Ok, what was all that about?

I’m getting to it.

I feel like we put emphasis on the wrong things sometimes. Because of it, we now have a generation of women who go to the gym in full hair and makeup, and get breast implants at 18. We have women who feel like they need to be flawless to be seen. And if they’re flawless and seen, everyone else is irrelevant. To me, they’re pretty/ugly.  It seems like more and more, I’m seeing that with black women. I could be wrong. But I feel like we have to do much better. Our young girls need us to do better. They need to see there is more to life than a good weave and a phat ass. They need to see us support each other and celebrate our differences. And that’s why I’m glad Hurgate happened. Hopefully it will open our eyes and teach us to treat each other with respect.

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Do They Make Invisible Fence for Creepers?


Source: Urlesque

I would love to start dating again, but I’m very afraid to do so.

Why? One word, eight letters.


I was talking to a lady in Zumba class yesterday and this subject came up. It seems like many weirdos have crossed both of our paths over the years. We even admitted that we no longer make eye contact with certain guys because once you do, you’ve got a full-blown, code red clinger situation.

Guys, there’s nothing wrong with having a little confidence. But a woman saying “hello,” or “thank you” does not mean they think you’re the sexiest thing in the world, and that they want to have your baby right there on the spot. (Well, it might if you meet a rat, but for normal women it doesn’t.) Be a gentleman. Give the right response and keep it moving.

This brings me to Chief Hungry Eyes. Chief Hungry Eyes is the Chris Hansen-caliber predator in our Zumba class. Do I care if he reads this? No. It might help him get his weak game in check, and possibly avoid potential restraining orders. (So Chief if your reading, take notes. There will be a quiz.) Anywho, Chief Hungry Eyes always strolls into class late. And instead of walking in and finding a spot in the back of the gym, the Chief likes to make his presence known. He leisurely walks in and stares everyone down as if he’s at the world’s largest buffet. Then he selects his victim for that class and tortures them for an hour.

Now I’m pretty sure the Chief is harmless, but his creeper habits make me want to buy some dog mace and a whistle. But I’m sure that in his mind he’s smooth as silk, and he’s slaying hoes from coast to coast.

Wrong, wrong.

Guys like the Chief and all the random dudes I’ve encountered online and in real life have convinced me that I’m going to be alone for some time until I buy my pug. Me and Tommy the pug will live together and wear matching outfits. And when he dies, I’ll have him cloned so he can live forever.

Just kidding.

Dudes, don’t be creepers. It’s not hot. You telling me I look sexy in a pig costume (true story), or staring a woman down like a lunch buffet is not cool. Be charming, be witty and be a gentleman. Do this and you will be slaying the ladies from coast to coast.

In the meantime, I’m going to see if they can develop an Invisible Fence for creepers. I have to protect myself from further trauma.

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Off the Grid

Hello there.

Boy have I been a terrible blogger! I know, I know. I’ve been missing in action for a minute, but I did not forget about my blog. I’m back and you can expect more randomonium in the weeks to come. Nationwide was not lying when they said, “Life comes at you fast.” I’m not going to give you the laundry list of what went down, but let’s just say I’m back on track for now. Sayonara March! Bring on my birfday month!

While I was off the grid hunting animals, knitting scarves and building a log cabin….not really, I thought about one thing. No matter what I’m going through, I have to keep it moving and I have to keep it positive. This really hit home last month when my aunt died. The day before she passed, I was very frustrated and borderline bummed out. I was stressing because I’m still trying to recover from the events of last year, and I’m barely keeping my head above water. I was angry and all I could do was have a pity party of one.

The next morning, my phone rang at 7 a.m. It was my Mom and she was sobbing. I answered with a groggy, “Hello?” My Mom’s voice cracked as she said, “Call Papa. He said Aunt Vivian is dead. I’m not sure if he’s confused or not.” She started crying again and said, “I don’t want to wake your father up to tell him since he just had surgery. Please call Papa.” I reassured her that I would check on my grandpa, and hung up. I was shocked, but I remained calm and composed.

Calling Papa that day was pretty hard. On a regular day, Papa’s always cracking jokes or telling us what’s wrong with the world. But to hearing him cry that morning broke my heart. I told him I loved him. I also told him that despite the circumstances, God would bring him through. As I hung up, I felt like a complete jerk for being so consumed with my own stuff. My cousins lost their mom. Papa lost his daughter, and my uncle lost his wife. To me, that trumped whatever I was going through.

It’s funny how life teaches you so many lessons even when you’re not in a learning mood. When everything happened, it opened my eyes. It’s easy for us to get so caught up in our own stuff that we don’t often realize that people are out there fighting much tougher battles.  And sometimes it’s hard to understand life’s trials and tribulations. But once you make it through them, you become a little tougher and wiser.

So I might be scratching and surviving right now, but I have faith that I will get back on my feet eventually. In the meantime I’m just going to keep it moving and keep it positive. I encourage you to do the same no matter what you’re going through. And if you need to talk, yell or have a good come to Jesus moment, you know how to reach me. 🙂




Tip Drill

Source: Cupcakes Take The Cake

I received some very nice gifts for Christmas. The majority of the gifts were cash…great for a broke biznatch like moi.  But the one gift that stood out was the big brown bag of baking goodies from my cousin Terea. The average person would not get excited about 31 decorating tips, icing bags, a cupcake corer and a filled cupcake baking pan. When I pulled each of these items out of that beautiful bag with the royal purple ribbon handles, I cried. My Mom couldn’t understand why I was crying. My sister teased me for being über emotional. But it really touched me that my cousin actually listened when I told her about my love of baking. She even gave me a card with words of encouragement. It was also a reminder to not give up on my dream. It gave me hope, and it felt good to know that someone believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.

The other day, I had a conversation with my sister from another mother…and father, Amanda. Actually, it was more like an encouragement smack down. You see, I have a bad habit of being slightly irrational. Other people get an idea and they run with it. I get an idea and I always find reasons why it won’t work. I realize that I sabotage myself when I do this. I also know that’s something I have to change. So Amanda fussed me out for about 15 minutes, addressing that in the process. She said, “I think you need to fucking do what you love and stop being so humble! You’re good and you need to believe that.” And she’s right.

Part of me knows that God has blessed me with some talents. But I often downplay them because I don’t want to seem cocky, or like I’m fishing for compliments. I do what I do because I truly enjoy it. And now I just have to learn how to work it and own it.

I’m sure I’ll get there soon. I know it just takes time and a ton of positivity. In the meantime, I can’t wait to use all of my new tools. Watch out now. I’ve got 31 icing tips and I’m not afraid to use ’em!

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No Gift Receipt Necessary

As I sat at my ‘rents’ house on Christmas night recovering from my food coma, I started to think about the gifts that weren’t under the tree. No, I don’t mean seasons one and two of Dhani Tackles the Globe, a box of cash or a membership to the cheesecake of the month club. (So if you  still need gift ideas for me, there you go!)  Instead, I thought about the good friends that have helped me through a very trying year.

I lost my job in February. I’m not going to get into the hows or whys, but it happened. And now I’m glad it did.

What was cool about the whole experience was that it opened my eyes and allowed me to discover some universal truths. If you truly know me, you know that I am fairly easy to get along with. You also know that I don’t do phony, and I enjoy being the life of the party. I realized that in life, there are a lot of people who love to show up for your “parties.” These “parties” are basically the fun, silly and sometimes random times of life. But when stuff goes down and the good times are over,  these same people have no problem losing your number and finding a new life of the party.

On the other hand, there were a lot of people who stepped up to the plate, and encouraged me throughout the whole experience. They were always there with kind words, new professional opportunities, good food and a drank…or two…or three. They kept me smiling. They kept me dancing. Most importantly, these people helped get me get back on track. Unlike the fair-weather party goers of the past, these people proved that they were my true friends. And because of them, my life is even richer than it was before.

To my true friends and family, thank you for being in my corner from day one. Thank you for listening to me rant, and thank you for talking me through the numerous come to Jesus moments of this year. I love all of you, and if you need me to bake you cookies, give you a hug, crack you up with one of my standup routines or hide a body for you, just let me know. On second thought, I can help you with everything except the last one. I’m not hood enough to go to prison, and I don’t want to be Diabla’s girlfriend. But you know what I mean. You were there for me and I’ll always be there for you.

Hugs and high fives. Smooches and snaps.



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Slightly Chrissy

Reality television is awesome to me, so it’s no surprise that I watch a little show on VH1 called Love & Hip Hop. If you don’t watch it, Love & Hip Hop basically follows six women who are somewhat involved in the music industry. Some of the ladies are arm pieces, some of the ladies are musicians and some…let’s just say they’re trying to find a way to be relevant. (Honestly, all of them are trying to be relevant, but that’s cool. That means more drama for me to watch!)

The true star of Love & Hip Hop is this woman:

The "Psychotic Bitch" is not amused.

Source: VH1 Blog

That woman spawned Mr. We Fly High, AKA Jim Jones.


The other star of the show is Mama Jones’ nemesis and Mr. We Fly High’s boo, Chrissy Lampkin.

Look at her go!


I like Chrissy for a number of reasons. She has a pretty tight hair game. She loves big jewelry. She fights with her underwear on and she does not hold her tongue. Chrissy has no problem telling the other ladies when they’re dead wrong. She also has no problem giving them advice. But for the life of me, I cannot understand why she continues to wait around for her Jimmy. Last season, she proposed to Jim and went toe-to-toe with Mama Jones. This season, she’s still waiting for Jim to give her a ring, and hoping that he doesn’t lose his again. Chrissy is street smart and I’m pretty sure she has common sense. So why would a smart girl keep setting herself up for failure?

I thought about it and I came to the conclusion that a lot of us are like Chrissy. We’re smart and we have no problem analyzing the situations that our friends or family members are in. But some of us refuse to deal with our own issues. We all have a Jim Jones or two in our lives. That Jim Jones could be a partner who won’t commit, a super-needy friend, a carton of cigarettes, that roll of cookie dough in the fridge or a dead-end job. Our Jims are crutches. Behind closed doors they might make us feel good or make us feel validated, but we know that we’re better off without them. In order for us to be at our best, we need to cast those crutches aside and head in a more positive direction.

Wow, I had no idea reality television could be so deep!

Anyhoo, I can’t be mad at Chrissy. I might not understand why she does what she does, but I’ll keep tuning in so I won’t miss her next brawl!


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Laugh Through the Pain

This year has been a roller coaster ride for me.  There have been extreme highs, and there have been extreme lows. But despite it all, I’ve managed to hold on to my sense of humor. In fact, I think my sense of humor has been my saving grace. If I didn’t have it, I would probably be somewhere counting lint balls, or collecting rats like Glen from Hoarders. Believe me, I was pretty close to getting my own Lady Commander Whitehead at times.

I was talking to a friend the other day, and I was doing an impression of this zesty cat that I love. (Yes, I said zesty. I think the cat has a Logo card too.) After my friend was finished laughing, she said, “Devon, you always manage to find the humor in things.” And I do. Honestly, I’m not a serious person. Sometimes, I feel like I’m still in junior high.  I’m still at recess cracking jokes, and talking about the raunchy parts of a Sidney Sheldon novel. But that’s okay because I’m not somewhere popping pills, or snorting up booger sugar.

I know it’s cliché, but laughter truly is the best medicine. You could spend hours crying, but all that does is make your eyes red and puffy, and it ruins a fabulous makeup job. Then when you try to talk to people, they think you’re touched in the head because you can’t seem to form a complete sentence. And the snot thing is kind of gross too. So I’ll take laughter for the win any day.

If you’re going through a difficult time right now, feel free to contact me. I feel your pain. I can also guarantee that I will find some special way to turn that frown upside down. I can find magical gems on YouTube for you, I can do impressions and I can even sing the song at the 4:15 mark for you:

Source: YouTube

So call me. I’m the highly opinionated, chunky girl who loves to laugh and loves to have a good time. And I’ll be that girl all day, every day until my last day on earth.

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Life’s a Drag

This is Chelsea Pearl. She rocked the show!

I went to Essence Beauty Mart the other day, and I ran into a gaggle of drag queens. So being the drag queen stan that I am, I started a conversation with them. After chatting, they invited me to their show that night. I was so excited.

I love a good queen. I am always impressed with the ones who have fabulous hair and over-the-top wardrobes. I’m also super impressed if they can beat the hell out of their faces (that means they have a great makeup game).

I went to their show that night, and I wasn’t disappointed. The outfits were glamorous, the hair was awesome and their faces were beat to death. I was so happy that I decided to go. It turned out to be a fun night.

As I drove home after the show, I started thinking about why I loved drag queens. I realized that my love for them went way beyond makeup and glitzy, glamorous costumes. I think that I’m like a drag queen in some ways. No, I don’t have to tuck my meat, or wear booty pads to make my booty pop. But I think I am just as sassy and funny as a queen.

I think what I admire the most about drag queens is their confidence. That’s where the difference between me and a drag queen comes in. I’m confident in my people skills, but I’m far from confident about my body. Don’t cry for me Argentina. I’m actually getting better. I’m not pleased with Baby Miguel (my gut), but I am loving my legs right now!

Anyway, most of the queens in the show were plus-sized. But when they got on stage, they worked it like they were supermodels. They weren’t tugging at their clothes to make sure their muffin tops weren’t showing. They weren’t pulling at their body shapers to make sure their rolls weren’t showing. They got up on stage and gave it their all. And that’s what I love about drag queens. I applaud their fearlessness. I also applaud the fact that they don’t care what others think of them.

Who would have thought that I would have an aha! moment after meeting some drag queens? This doesn’t mean I’m going to start wearing wigs, feather boas and sequin ball gowns every day. But I am going to be a little more fabulous than I already am, and work what I have.


Image Source:


Can You Really Forgive and Forget?

It’s no secret that I enjoy watching reality television shows. My life is fairly tame and normal, so of course  I want to see the foolishness that goes on in someone else’s life.  Most of the shows are scripted, cut and spliced for salaciousness. But who would want to watch an hour of someone working, washing clothes or paying bills? Not me. I’d rather create dryer lint art  instead.

Thanks to the big O’s channel, I have discovered yet another reality show. This show doesn’t have catfights or drunk Oompa-Loompas from Jersey, but it does have real people with very real problems. The show is called Unfaithful: Stories of Betrayal.

Unfaithful Logo


Unfaithful features two couples that have dealt with infidelity in their marriages. The cheaters and their spouses tell their stories through confessional-style interviews. These interviews are also accompanied with re-enactments of the ordeal. Overall, I think Unfaithful is a solid show. What I don’t understand is why the couples always get back together. I don’t understand how you could love and trust someone again after they have violated you and your vows.  Sure the couples on the show have gone through counseling, but in the end, is that really enough?

I’ve had some pretty rotten things done to me over the years and it’s still hard for me to totally forget about some of those incidents. I try to do the Christian thing and turn the other cheek, but sometimes I feel like the offenders are getting off easy when I do this. I know what you’re thinking. If you were here, you’d probably tell me that being mad won’t make the situation better.  You’d also say that those people could care less about me sitting and stewing in my anger. Yes, you would be right. But I guess I would feel better if someone would find those people and punch them in their guts or smack them in the back of their heads because they are  shitty people. In other words, I want instant karma for those losers.

I’m not a bitter person, but I do have a super low tolerance for selfish people. These people don’t care about anyone but themselves. They also don’t have a problem trampling on others to get what they want. I’m sorry, but if had my own episode of Unfaithful  featuring the crappy people in my life, we would not  be holding hands and strolling in the park at the end. Instead, I would get them in a small room and light them up with a paintball gun.



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Pass the Heineken and Mind Your Business

There’s something that bugs me more than Auto-Tune or Lil Wayne. That something is judgmental people.

I did some digging on the tubes and found a couple of definitions for judgmental. One definition was, “having or displaying an excessively critical point of view.” Another definition from the always amusing Urban Dictionary really struck a nerve. Judgmental was defined as, “a way of making ones self feel better, by hurting others. Usually caused by closed mindedness, and a lack of manners.”

That second definition is what bugs me about the Jugdey McJudgersons of the world. They are the ones who will analyze a person within minutes of meeting them. They will tear down they way a person talks, the way a person dresses, a person’s ethnic background or even their sexual orientation. I’ve been around some Judgeys  and as soon as they start spitting their poison, my skin starts to crawl.  I also start to wonder what their true motivations are. The common denominator usually is the fact that these individuals don’t have lives or  are secretly jealous of those they judge.

I have a pretty diverse circle of friends. Some of my friends are pretty wild, while others are very low-key.  They come from different backgrounds and some do things that I might not always agree with. But do I condemn them to hell or stop being their friend just because of that? No, I don’t. I accept and love my friends – flaws and all. And they accept me as well.

I know I crack jokes and make fun of people on my blog. But honestly, I know it’s not my job to tell people how to live their lives. Grown-ass people are going to do what they want to do. They are the ones who have to live with their decisions, not me. My job is to worry about myself and to avoid sticky situations.

Besides, Baby Jesus hasn’t come down and appointed me as head of the morality police. So until I start floating in the air and sporting a halo, I will be here trying to live the best life I possibly can.

In closing, I only have one thing to say to all of the Judgey McJudgersons out there. The next time you sneer and start unloading the insults, stop, shut your mouth, pass the Heineken and mind your business.

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