WE'VE MOVED TO HIPETTYBETTY.COM

Hi Everyone!

Thanks for your continued support of this blog. We have recently moved to a new platform and domain name and relaunched the site. You can find us (and all of our old and new posts) at www.HiPettyBetty.com.

ARE YOU READY FOR SOME TURKEEEEEEY!

So, let’s start with the fact that I am awful at writing consistently for our blog.  No, really, I am the worst, I am the Grand Poobah of loserage when it comes to writing regularly. But do you know how I make up for it? I make up for it by being awesome…and occasionally bribing Dae and Angelique with food.  Yea, basically, food is all that keeps me in their good friendly graces because really, I’ll bail you out of jail at 4am but I’m awful at remembering your boyfriend’s name. 

  This is how Angelique reacts to my viddles. Dance my puppets, dance!

Food is where I don’t suck; I am the Rembrandt of random kitchen creations, the Gandalf of dinner parties in twenty minutes with nothing but twine and cranberry sauce.  What’s that?  You need a menu created and carried out and I only have a day to shop and make? Get out my way I’m doing some heavy lifting and manual labor (note: this is the only place outside of the gym that I lift heavy things.  That’s what male friends are for, and know how I pay them? With the spoils of my kitchen war, that’s how).

http://memecrunch.com/meme/XHZY/tonight-we-feast

Yea, yea, yea, you’re all tired of GOT, but Eddard is the only one who understands the gravity of this situation

 This leads me to the point of my ramble, my Thanksgiving menu.  This is the first year that my sister and I have been abandoned (i.e. our parents flying cross country for a Vegan Turkey day…) and it is up to me with Bean’s*assistance to create something worthwhile.  In true fashion, I have already begun planning my menu (and trying to save money to afford all of this because really, my bourgie tastes are getting out of hand).  My level of excitement is borderline inappropriate, I am damn near giddy to start cooking.  Check this out;

Turkey with gravy

Leg of Lamb with a currant glaze*

Salmon Puff Pastry with whipped Dijon mustard cream*

Duchess Potatoes

Mac n Cheese (only if people act right though, I’m not about to slave over béchamel sauce & all that hot melty cheese for something I don’t really eat)

Green beans

Dad’s stuffing (I’m almost sure there is pixie dust in this, no reason it should be this delicious)

Cranberry sauce (from scratch, don’t come in here with that canned jello junk, lazy)

Yeast Rolls  

Sweet potato pies

Peach bread pudding

Spiked apple cider (the secret ingredient is fireball, a god-awful amount of fireball)

*one of these has got to go, even I know this is too excessive

http://media.photobucket.com/user/alicebates92/media/gifs/nomhanster.gif.html?filters[term]=eating%20gifs&filters[primary]=images&filters[secondary]=videos&sort=1&o=4

Yep, it’s going to get this real…(that's an actual picture of Dae btw)

I’ve got the perfect brine for my turkey, all picked out.  It has flavors of orange, cranberry, brown sugar, course sea salt, rosemary, thyme, and a touch of nutmeg and cinnamon.  The lamb will have a glaze made with pan drippings, currants, mint, rosemary and minced garlic, cooked down to a savory reduction while the lamb itself will be marinated in a symphony of succulently delectable aromas and tastes.  The salmon en croute? Oof don’t get me started on the hot, moist, flakey, mustardy goodness that is salmon cooked in a light, golden, pastry crust.  I’ve dreamed about this, imagined this for years. This is my Superbowl (no, literally.  I’m choosing out the eye black now that that will coordinate best with my apron and whatever dress I choose out).  This will be first meal I’ve cooked in my new fancy adult apartment (more on how I had to move from New York TWICE next entry, and for people I haven’t really cooked for, AND for a man I’ve been going on dates with.  It’s about to get real, and you can bet I’m making  y’all be my peanut gallery as I experiment, grocery shop and cook.  Get ready folks, I’m going to need all the mental help I can get…

http://gifs-for-the-masses.tumblr.com/post/59918249875

Oh, don't mind me, I just get really excited about cooking...

Bust out your fat pants, mama's cooking with gas now!

Signed,

A. Nicole, a Boss Beauty

You Must Be *THIS* Tall: Height Complexities

I've been promising to write this post for quite a while. It's probably the one thing that I harp about...well, that's not true...but I harp about it a lot. With my friends, it's a non-issue because they have heard my whole philosophy. Now, I'll share it with all of you.

I have a height requirement. I guess you could say that I implement part of the Toni Childs doctrine, relating to male height and dating: "You must be *this* tall to ride this ride." In my case, *this* means 6'2" and above; no ifs, ands, or buts. Ok, maybe 6'1"...it depends. I have indeed deviated from this requirement of sorts, but honestly, every single time, it has worked out HORRIBLY. So, I decided that I'd compose a list of the reasons why I can't date shorter men. Keep in mind that I'm 5'10", and these reasons apply only to me, being a woman of this height. I don't speak for all tall women, though I think many may agree with me.

So, Here we go:

1. The Complex: If I am told one more time to stop wearing heels, I'm going to scream. I've worn heels all my life; ever since I climbed into some for those Talbots shows as a kid. As I've matured, my heels have gotten higher, and with the genesis of platform heels, there's no limit. See, platforms make them comfortable. Sooo I rock my 5 and 6 inch heels with pride. No wobbly knees or ankles. I make the sidewalk my catwalk, channeling my inner Naomi...minus the phone throwing. And then shorter men have the audacity to criticize me for my choice, claiming that I'm already too tall or that I'm not being fair. I'm not THAT tall. I like to say I'm of average height...of course, my friends would say otherwise lol. I wear heels because I love them, not because I want to be unfair.
2. Confidence in *Short* Supply. Chances are, if you're complaining about my heel fetish, you're already too short for me--vertically and confidence-wise. I've been told by guys that I like "Oh...I can't stand next to you tonight with those heels on" or "You don't have any flats?" Really? To answer the latter, I DO own flats...They're driving shoes I keep them by the kitchen door, so that i can slip them on with my heels in hand. I'm not about to endanger people's lives for some pumps, so I'm practical. But these shoes don't get shine. In fact, I think there's a hole in one of them now. To address the former statement: GROW A PAIR! You don't want to stand next to me in my heels? To know me is to know that they're a part of my life. To criticize that is to alienate yourself. You're basically telling me that you feel like less of a man when I'm wearing heels. Grow. A. Pair.
3. Hunters of the Amazon. I'm looking at you, Russel Simmons-types. Well, I'm not coming at him directly, but at those who look at him and figure "Oooohh I'mma climb that tree too." Believe it or not, I have been told on numerous occasions that an individual wanted to climb me like a beautiful, exotic tree. Climb me? Are you a monkey? Has the zoo misplaced you? There will be no climbing, thanks. Besides, the last time I checked, trees don't have all of these curves, honey. Oh, and WHAT are you planning to do with all this? As far as I'm concerned, you're little self can't be trusted, sir.
4. The Tom Cruise types. What do I mean? Shorter guy that dates taller women, but seeks ways to overcompensate for said height difference. Tom Cruise wore lifts in his shoes to his wedding to Katie Holmes. LIFTS? Fancy word for platforms or hidden wedges. Whaaaaaa? And this is just the beginning. Tom Cruise types like standing on higher steps, sitting on ledges, always sitting down to talk, etc. You eventually find yourself shrinking your own stature to accommodate. Or *gasp* wearing shorter shoes. EEEEEEKKKKKKKKKK Nightmare.
5. Pink Elephants On Parade! As I said in the intro, I've dated guys that are shorter than me...each time failing miserably. Why? Because it's like the awkward invisible rainbow pink 8 ton elephant in the room. We don't speak of it, call attention to it, etc. Just go with the flow. But it's the little things. For example: I love my size, but I hate feeling too big. If my extra long limbs are wrapping around you twice or reaching down, it gets to me. I won't say it, but I'll ponder it quietly. Kissing--a chore when the man is shorter. Get ready for sit-down kisses. Movie theaters, cars, etc. Standing up kisses are weird if your lips match up to my chin...or worse...neck DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNN!!!! Also, my family is tall. Get ready for a life of being the short guy in the family. And Caribbean people crack the most painfully and brutally honest, yet hilarious jokes. I don't have time to console you.

Ok. I think 5 is enough...before I start sounding like a crazy lady. You get the idea. Height matters. At least to me. Don't come for me with the nonsense. I don't think I'm being unrealistic. Just practical as it applies to my life. Sue me.

Large & In-Charge, as always,

Angeliqué, A BossBeauty

The 'Maximum Living: Mineral Rich' Experiment (Updated)

Read this first: The 'Maximum Living: Mineral Rich' Experiment

It worked people and I didn't die!! However, I stopped using it because well, I didn't feel like paying $23.AndSomeChange for it. I'm cheap. I also said that I was going to post a video update for it but I think doing that now, how many months later, defeats the whole purpose. 

MY BAD!

I will say that on average for the two months (2 bottles) I used (almost every day only missing 3 days out of each month) That I saw my hair thicken, and my nails that are usually thin and brittle improved drastically; I actually had nails. Hair length wise I didn't see much difference in terms of my average length growth though maybe if I had continued to use the product longer I would have. I also experienced a lot of hair shedding (which makes sense when the hair follicles are active) and a lot of itching, especially in the back of my head, which means something was growing back there. Would I recommend this product? Yes! I believe that it's safe but I'm also not a doctor so take this product at your own risk.

Link to purchase: Maximum Living Mineral Rich

~Daé, a BossBeauty

All Hail the Corny Date!

Corny dates. We've all been on them. But let's be real. They're awesome. I think it's something that guys take for granted. Firstly, people don't go on dates anymore. Or they don't go on them as often as previous generations did. Either way, it sucks. What went wrong with the institution or phenomenon that we as a people stopped going on them as often? It's not a matter time. We can find the time to do lots of nonsensical things, but as soon as it's time to take each other on dates, suddenly the time escapes us.

And then there's the phenomenon that I hate: hanging out. Hanging out is such an ambiguous thing. It's for friends, not for people who are romantically propositioning one another.  I think that a lot of people, particularly my generation, have gotten lazy and fallen into the trick that is 'hanging out.' It takes all of the formalities and beauty out of dating, replacing it with a super casual, lame version of itself.

And then there are those individuals who have completely lost touch with dating because of a misinterpretation of what it is. Let me say this loud and proud: All dates don't have to be formal. By formal, I mean dresses/suits/restaurants/et al. You can have a successful date without the pomp and circumstance of of a red carpet event.

Sometimes people are obsessed with appearances and looking cool or whatever instead of date quality.

What are my favorite kinds of dates? CORNY DATES! And before you go and judge me, you need to understand the possibilities that corny dates provide.

1)      Comfort: Nobody wants to feel uncomfortable on their first date, or any date for that matter.

2)     Comedy: Corniness begets comedy. It's as simple as that. Why do you think people keep going Put-Put golfing? BECAUSE IT'S FLIPPING HILARIOUS!

3)     Cuteness: Ok, so this isn't for everyone, I know, but dates (especially first dates) are supposed to be cutesy or at least possess some sort of cuteness factor. The sort of things you can look back on and say "Man, that was a cute date," etc.

4)     Conversation: Dating is the process of getting to know a person. Personally, I prefer the British term, courting, to describe this strange gray area of life. When you are courting a person, you're basically making a long-term self-marketing pitch. Conversation is crucial. This doesn't mean that you should rattle off nonsense in my ears all date long, but rather, it should be a mutual sharing (and not over-sharing...I don't need to know about your momma...I say this because I've been on a momma-chatting date before. Needless to say, it was HORRIBLE) of preliminary personal information. I say 'preliminary' because I also really don't need to know your blood-type and about that one time at band camp (again, true stories).

Not sure why those are all Cs...but you get the picture. Corny dates are simply the best. But beware--corny dates can turn bad REAL quick.

Example: (You know it was coming) I went on a date once. (I say it like this because I don't go on many dates...womp womppp) It was about 2 years ago, and Sadé was going through her whole "let go, let flow" phase. Worst. Phase. Ever. Anyway, peer pressure made me buy into her little phase, and I found myself saying 'yes' to a guy that I'd said 'no' to for years. Years. Yes, I should've known better, but I wanted to try the experiment. Soooo I did what a girl is supposed to do. I let him be the man and plan, etc. I let him pick me up (hard for me, since I LOVE my car). I dressed all cute in a flowy top and short shorts. I put on makeup and brushed my hair. I even wore flat shoes. Dude was my height--Yes, again, I know, I definitely should've known better. So, we went to an early dinner at one of those exhibition Japanese restaurants, and shared nice conversation. It always seemed to go back to my looks or just me as a person, which was sort of annoying, but tolerable at the time. He did everything right; he pulled out my chair for me to sit down, stood up when i stood up to use the restroom, listened actively, put his hand on the small of my back when we were leaving...everything. And then we went to see a movie.

Sidebar: let me discuss my opinion on movie dates: Don't do it. We aren't in junior high or middle school. Movie dates should not be an option for a first date. Ever. Stop it. Go back to my 4 Cs of corny dating--none of them are possible if both parties are staring at a projection screen for two hours. For dates...let's say 3+, movie dates are ok...but still understand that it's not a real date. But I digress...

Back to the date: The movie was good, though I'm positive that he lucked out on that one. There was no way that he could've known that I love everything Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. In fact, I'm confident that if he is reading this post right now, he won't have a clue who Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is. He tried to cuddle a little too hard during the movie, which got on my nerves, and tried to kiss me many times, making me miss pertinent dialogue. Not okay.

Anyway, after the movie, he took me home. Night over? Nope. He is a friend of some of my neighbors, so he was still hanging around my house. My dumb stupid behind came outside and invited him in to watch another movie. My movie of choice? Love Jones. I mean, he hadn't seen it, so that's why I wanted to watch it (you know, besides it being one of the greatest movies of all time...ask Sadé), but I really should've known better. Minutes into the movie, he launched himself at me. Now, perhaps I'm old-fashioned, but when I am invited or I invite a person over to watch a movie, my full intention and expectation is to watch the dang movie. Not neck and suck face. I wasn't feeling it. After sitting on the complete opposite side of the room from him in safety, I grew sick of him, and sent an SOS text to my bff/neighbor for relief. After trying many ways to hint at him to leave, I eventually faked epic fatigue and he left. Thank GOD.

It started out lovely, but by the end, I was ready to be done with him. And sure there were other reasons for me stopping communication with him (one of which was that he kept trying to Skype me during the NBA finals...BIG No-no, sir), but this was definitely the beginning of the end, and it was still the first date.

So, summary: Corny dates, good. Movie dates, bad. 4 Cs, good. Doing the absolute most on a first day, after it had been going well, horrible. Get it? Got it? GOOD!

Here's a list of fail-proof corny date places that will rock your world: (in no particular order)

1)    Bowling alley

2)    Batting cages

3)    Arcade

4)    Amusement Parks

5)    Aquariums

6)    Museums with cool inventions or exhibits, etc.

7)    Go-Carting

8)    Themed festivals & fairs

9)    Broadway (or local theatre) show

10)  Picnics

Ok, let me stop, since my not-so-concealed nerd is showing. Did I really say arcades and themed festivals and fairs? LMAO but it’s true. And a hint for the guys—if the girl you’re dating doesn’t like any of these suggestions, she’s probably too unnecessarily prissy or ridiculous for you…or anyone in general. I mean, who doesn’t like aquariums? Or Go-Carting?

Just keep swimming…in those murky, shark-infested dating waters.

~Angeliqué, a BossBeauty

@bossbeauties  www.facebook.com/bossbeauties

And this is why I am a boss.

The other day I got pulled over because my tints on my car were too dark (Yes I think I am a baby thug riding around here with 20 ‘per-cents’).  And although I knew they were highly illegal I was still highly pissed off that the police officer had the audacity to give me a state order repair (we’ll talk about my sense of entitlement later).

If you are not aware, a state order repair is a tricky sommama-bish, more tricky than a regular ticket. For certain repair orders like the removal of tints, if you do not fix the problem and get it checked and cleared by a specific registered inspection mechanic, the dmv can suspend your car registration— and we don’t want none of that.

I figured out this information by googling how to lighten tints/get out of state repair orders (don’t judge me). I found out it just simply wasn't possible and I would just have to get them removed.

But, to get them removed I’d have to pay $100?! Damn near the same price that I had to pay to put them on.

So you know what I did right?

I went to YouTube like a BOSS.

I watched the YouTube videos on how to remove your tints off like a BOSS.

And I removed my tints MYSELF like a what? LIKE A BOSS!

I literally picked at the tints with my finger nail and just pulled them off.  No steamer, no blower dryer no spray, no anything that is creative.

And I got glue aaallll over my rear window like a FOOL.

But that’s ok, because I went back to google, and found out that nail polish remover works well. I tested it out and that is the truth. However, since I just got my nails done I’ll have to wait to finish it off.

‘Anywho’, Point of the story is when issues arise, handle it like a BOSS, or you know, don’t put yourself in these situations in the first place by, you know, buying illegal tints.

MUAH!

~Daé, a BossBeauty

A Transplant in New York

Since moving to New York from below the Mason Dixon, I’ve been called a lot of things; Princess, Country Girl, Southerner, Belle, Debutante (never should have told them the story), and a GRITS (Girl Raised in the South).  All of these are somewhat amusing, especially since I actually spent most of my time growing up outside of Detroit.  I make no moves to correct this however because I bake a lot, stay in pearls, don’t EVER wear pants to work, and say y’all, they’d never believe me.  Plus, I get away with throwing sooooo much more shade with a southern twang than I would if I sounded like Eminem.  It’s made me some interesting friends, and New Yorkers get extra friendly because they say it’s adorable. 

Look, I’m short, chubby, have a bit of a lisp and always smell like baked goods.  I fit in this box for chrissake, I AM EVERYTHING ADORABLE

That being said, there are some things since moving here I 100% absolutely do NOT find adorable.  Lemme learn ya a lil something right quick about this city that is an assault on all of my finer senses.

Personal space does not exist

I am not a huge fan of being touched.  It’s not that I don’t like people, people are great I’m sure, but I am not a fan of getting on a train smelling like Fan di Fendi and getting off smelling like an Axe/BO/smog medley.  I spend a lot of time getting coifed, primped, and all around fabulous, and nothing ruins that like Eau de Homeless.

Bey doesn't even know, I totally know how she feels in this picture.  It's hard being like us.

This being said coming to NYC was a rude awakening.  People stand close to each other like it is below zero and we are saving lives with body heat.  Even when there is plenty of space, people stand like they're on the edge of the Grand Canyon and your shadow is all that's keeping them afloat.  One day I was standing at a light at the corner, and a woman walked up stopped next to me, and basically leaned into me.  When I looked at her she had the nerve to look back at me like I was the problem.  I may have taken that moment to shift her off the curb...not important.  I like to think of myself as a nice person, but I swear fo' GAWD all I want to do is scream and run away, but I can't, because there's no room.  My second course of action is more along the lines of giving the Big Man a call and telling him how much I liked His work on His freshman album in Egypt...

I'm not saying I pray for a repeat, I mean, I plan on retiring to my own cloud one day and I'm sure the Lord would frown upon it and I'm not about getting smited.

All I know, is that while getting on the subway is a Herculean feat, it doesn't make the below any less true...

Parking garages are criminal organizations, and I want a cut

I've always secretly known the Big Apple was really the center of all Mob activity.  People say you can't believe the movies, but really man, Hollywood is linked to the truth.  This is the City’s definition of a parking deal;

That's if you get there by 8am, are out by 10am, drive a black car without trim, have three wheels with silver hubcaps and one with red, while also being to rap Outkast's B.O.B backwards, in Farsi

If you tell me that that isn't some of the most organized crime activity you've ever seen then you either live in Chicago or are connected to the head Don himself...and I'm going to need to figure out how to get in on that action.  If I was pulling in this kind of dough I could be out runnin these streets making it rain EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.  I could just be great out here not lovin' these schmoes, tossing gold coins into homeless folks cups and baking pies frivolously only to throw them at people when they made me mad.  

I personally refuse to pay these prices and have a much more efficient parking method.  My SUV, Edward von Edgington IV, lives on the street because though a Southern gentleman he's a true OG and can handle his own...plus he knows mama has to work hard just to keep us rolling in the unleaded, let alone to afford posh living spaces.  He also knows that...

I will never make enough money to live in NY like I want to

I'm not saying I'm fancy but, I mean, my idea of an appropriate hotel for a simple overnight begins with R and ends with Itz Carlton.  Needless to say I can't afford that ish now that I live without parental funds and well, it was a rude awakening.             

TIME TO WAKE UP FO' LIFE BIATCH!

My friends all made it sound like my life would become Sex in the City-esque.  I was going to be the black Carrie, complete with the writing and an ex that never seems  to 100% disappear because we're truly and completely and utterly dumb.  I'd go out every night looking amazing drinking cosmos while having numerous beaus that were madly in love with me.  In reality?  This ish is for the birds.  I now drink beer, I only go out during happy hour times and only to happy hours that have drinks for less than $7, and then I only drink 2 drinks max.  My fancy day consists of lounging on my fire escape with a quiche cooling next to me made from breakfast leftovers.  The days I imagined; wild unlimited brunches, cabbing everywhere, shopping sprees on 5th ave and becoming a permanent fixture at Tiffany & Co. are long gone.  Every time a town car rolls by me I pray a foreign prince is inside waiting to just grace a stranger with glorious goodies.

That luck trick Jasmine didn't even know, SHE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT'S HARD IN THESE STREETS!

Now I know the normal lecture, "Work hard, focus on your goals and the money will come."  But no.  In order to live how I want to live in NYC I need Sheik money, and since I know for a fact daddy doesn't have any special contacts in oil and my mama doesn't have a diamond mine anywhere I need to get the hayle up outta dodge.  Especially since even the people living it up here dress like they've lost their minds.

Fashion is a relative term, and these people have lost their relativity loving minds

People here keep thinking they look like this;

When in reality they have lying friends and look like this

That is a sail and you look hideous.  You are not the next Design Star

I always want to reach out and shake these strangers.  Why are we bringing back the 80's with acid wash and poodle perms?  Why is mismatched neon with combat boots and biker shorts the norm?  WHY DON'T YOUNG GIRLS KNOW YOU NEED TO PUT ON A BRA AND A SLIP?!?! I'm not even saying full blown shapewear, just something so I don't know how many private piercings you have!  I can't, I just, my pressure just went up that's enough.

All in all though...

This place has some wins.  I can get food from any country at all times of day and night.  I can pay someone $11 to do all my laundry for the month (except skivvies because my mama raised a lady) and have it returned that night.  I can sing to myself on the train, or cry, or laugh, or just mumble and no one even bats an eyelash.  If I decide I want to live all up and through my feelings no one judges!  They nod and mind their own dag on business.  People are comfortable with themselves here, even if they look nuts or help support parking robbery or stand too close.  I don't love it, but I can't say I fully hate it anymore.  I will always belong in the South, but I guess I don't mind being a temporary resident of of Yankee country.

Signed,

A. Nicole, a semi-Southern Boss Beauty