Amazing Documentary About Our Financial System

Many moons ago, when I lived in Miami, I was locked out of the financial system. A big reason was because of my unwise credit management (and a bad drug addiction). I didn’t have a checking account and had to cash checks through a check cashing place – then ride my bike to several other locations to pay my rent and utilities. It was a big pain in the ass, to put it mildly. I’m thankful those days are behind me, but for some people, they have just begun. This movie addresses those issues and more. It’s a short but effective documentary. Enjoy!

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The Perils of a Forgotten Blog

The Mush is glad we're back!

The Mush is glad we’re back!

It’s been a year since I abandoned my post here on Ladytigerproductions.com. What in the hay-hell as been going on? A lot. I won’t go over the past year’s reflection, let’s just say I got laid a lot last summer and nothing distracts my attention away like a good lay, hey.

Did I mention I’m also writing rap songs? Kidding. Ditto on the kidding about getting laid too. I wish the reasons I stopped writing were that salacious. Truth be told, I was working 3 jobs – stopped and enrolled in school. I also took an internship. You see folks, I’m trying to reshape my life. Trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Trying to well, become an adult 37 years into the game. Has it worked? Sort-of. I don’t think I’ll ever be fully functioning and that’s okay by me.

I don’t expect anyone to remember my blog – after all, a year without writing online is like 43 light years in space. Star-Warsy speaking. Yesterday I decided to take time off of my internship so I could return to doing what I do best: bitch and moan about my life. KIDDING. In actuality I had an epiphany. For the past 12 years I have been building other people’s businesses (OPB) and not my own. Why? Partly because I was (and still am) afraid and partly because I didn’t believe in myself. I didn’t think I had the brass-balls to make it in this world. I still don’t know – but I’m ready to try which is why I’m getting back on the writing train. I have a lot to write about seeing that I’m in school and all edge-a-macated and shit.

I hope all of you have been making the most with your time, not being scared like me and pursuing your dreams no matter how whacked out they seem. We only have this one shot (until we are reincarnated which I still pray the universe makes me a man with a fast metabolism).

This has nothing to do with my prior point, but after writing OPB you know what I want to hear.

Hit it.

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Flashback Outfit: Flygirl Edition

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Oh HAAAAAY boos. Seems like I can’t quite get my shit together when it comes to writing this year. Now that I have:

Not 1.

Not 2.

but 3 jobs, finding free time is a bit impetuous. But that’s okay because free time always gets this lady into trouble.

Speaking of trouble, let’s lace up your dance shoes and get ready to do the Running Man. Where you going, girl? In Living Color called and they was wondering if you could do a couple of chest thrusts and step-ball-changes in between skits. Life as a Fly-girl can be rough on the callous. No matter. I’ma still wear my hat sideways.

Apparently I didn’t get the hip-hop memo that it’s not cool for a white girl from New Haven to wear a fake diamond chain around her neck. Not only a fake diamond chain – but a chain in the shape of a money symbol. Now that’s some pre-Ke$ha bullshit.

The T-shirt I’m wearing is a H&M classic. I remember when the store opened in Boston, I was invited to the pre-opening. That’s only because I was running a modeling agency and had loads of pretty girls at my disposal. Let me tell you something: pretty girls will get you into more premieres than puppies. Because old men don’t like to fuck puppies – unless they’re really bat-shit-CRA. Old men like to pretend that they are going to fuck young girls and they will give you all sort of perks in hopes of getting into some panties. Of course, being the protective Mama-Bear that I was, that never happened. But anticipation, like Tim Curry says in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, makes a man shiver. And a shivering man with a shrinking hard-on will give gift-bags and fruit loops to any lady carting around 18 years olds. Trust.

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Tiger Rant: Disney Princesses

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In yet another pedophilic attempt to over-sexulize young girls, the big wigs of Disney have converted my favorite Disney princess, Merdia, into a thinner, sexier version of her former self. Better teach these little ones to have big boobs rather than to be Brave:

Princess Merida before and after

I’ll say this opinion comes from a bias place. I hate Disney princesses and everything they teach girls to stand for: mainly find a man by twirling around and acting helpless (and sexy) otherwise you’ll be washed up. So imagine my surprise when I watched Brave – finally a girl after my own heart! Merida would rather shoot arrows and play outside than be wrapped up in bondage of boring romances. Brave was the Disney movie I would actually show my kids if I had them. Why? Because little girls have to grow up to believe they are more than pretty objects to be bought and traded – either figuratively or literally by men. Up. There I go. Getting all Fem-nazi again. But wait a minute, here’s a quote from the original director of Brave, Brenda Chapman, to the Hollywood Reporter on Merida’s makeover:

“Merida was created to break that mold — to give young girls a better, stronger role model, a more attainable role model, something of substance, not just a pretty face that waits around for romance.”

Look, I grew up believing that the dreams you dream really do come true. It’s just that my dreams were about running companies – not getting married to Prince Charming. In fact, I don’t think I’ve had one wedding fantasy in my life – except for getting married by Elvis in Vegas. As far Prince Charming(s), they’re like nachos – you can never eat only one.

Thankfully there has been a tremendous amount of backlash about Merida’s redesign. Change.org put out a petition garnishing over 200,000 signatures and as of today the old Merida is on its Disney Princess site. Bippity-boppity-boo.

In other news, Jaime Moore, a photographer from Austin, Texas, middle-fingered The Disney Princess franchise by celebrating her daughter’s 5th birthday another way. In a creative move that I can only describe as epic, Jaime dressed up her daughter Emma as 5 influential woman of our age: Amelia Earhart, Coco Chanel, Susan B Anthony, Helen Keller and Jane Goodall.  Moore says, “‘My daughter wasn’t born into royalty, she was born into a country where she can now vote, become a doctor, a pilot, an astronaut, or even President if she wants and that’s what REALLY matters.”

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I’m Going To Have To Face It: An Addiction to Love

Robert Palmer may have made Love Addiction look glamourous but to the real Love Addict it’s anything but.

Love addiction seems so romantic, doesn’t it. One just can’t live without you. One can’t breathe the air of life without your sweet sweetness wafting through the air. One can’t sleep without driving by your house; showing up unannounced at your workplace or making a court date with regards to that restraining order you took out on him. Is stalking his way of showing you affection? Or have you ever stalked someone for their affection – calling it loyalty or devotion? Have you ever loved someone so much that it hurt? Have you ever wondered why loving someone so hurts so much?

Love addiction as defined by Wikipedia is “a human behavior in which people become addicted to the feeling of being in love. Love addicts can take on many different behaviors. Love addiction is common; however, most love addicts do not realize they are addicted to love. Love addiction can be treated with various recovery techniques, most of which are similar to recovery from other addictions such as sex addiction and alcoholism, through group meetings and support groups.”

Love addiction centers around fantasy – and the fantasy centers around creating one magic person. This magic person can be anyone who strikes a chord, makes a connection or weaves his/her way into the Love Addict’s heart – a heart that fears rejection above all else. This rejection makes the Love Addict disregard or ignore behaviors of the one magic person. The magic person is an illusion – a flesh and bone hope that the Love Addict creates for thrills, chills and the sheer feeling of being in love. In the book, Obsessive Love by Susan Forward, Margaret, a love addict, talks about her preoccupation with Phil saying, “I can’t believe I did all those things. The phone calls, the drive-bys, the letters, the tantrums, the threats….it just wasn’t me. But it took me so long to him out of my head. The way he looked, the way he smelled, the way he touched me…he drove me crazy.

Sound familiar? Love addiction in a nutshell will make you nuts. I know because I am one – a recovering one. For me, my love addiction was born out of feelings of inadequacy, abandonment and that I was never good enough. The funny thing about feelings is if you feel them too much they become a reality. I attracted unavailable, uncommitted, uninterested men because I felt like I was less-than-good-enough. If you think you’re less you will find less than you think.

The tragedy about being a love addict is that we tend to fall prey to the worst kind of people. Our need to be needed is so strong that it supersedes (and frankly drop-kicks) any common sense to the curb. You wake up in a haze of fantasy realizing that the honeymoon isn’t only over, it never began in the first place. That A-ha moment can lead some Love Addicts to suicide – love withdrawal can be as powerful as heroin withdrawal depending on the individual.

I will be focusing a lot of attention on Love Addiction because I feel that’s important to spread the word. If you are picking up what I’m putting down here – don’t worry. You are not alone. There are support groups, books and loads of information on how to survive love addiction – but first I think it’s important to know if you have one. Click here to take the quiz.

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A 29 Cent Thrift Score!

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In today’s market, you’d be hard-pressed to find anything that costs less than a $1. That’s why stores like Dolla-Tree, Dolla-General and 1 Dolla-Make-You-Holla-Fool are so successful. People like to find things that cost nothing. That’s why I dig Stepping Stones Thrift Store and it’s 29-cent rack. Yes. A whole rack of clothing that costs less an egg-shaped container of pink slime you buy on the way out of the grocery store. These coin-operated candy/sticker/crap machines also sell kitty-punk-rock-glitter stickers, Justin Bieber tattoos and plastic-ghetto-gold-jewelries. All the aforementioned goods will set you back at least 2 quarters – and I’ll bet my bottom-dolla that none of them will be as dope as this ship’s ahoy.

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Stepping Stones is a marvelous organization. It supports battered women and their children, helping them escape from abusive relationships and get back on their feet. Come to think of it, my cheap ass should have spent a lot more than 29 cent to support that cause. I guess that goes to show that a hustler is a hustler not a charity-case, mien heir.

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Confessions of An Aging Hipster

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I’ve been holed up with the flu for the past four days. I’m happy to say things are looking up – as in I can finally hold my head up for longer than 9 seconds. All this lying around has got me contemplating my existence (and lack of patience) again. I’ve come up with a new ruse to talk about. Aging. As a hipster. Specifically a female one.

Not to say that 36 is old. By no means. I don’t feel 36 – unless I’ve got the flu which in that case I feel 106. But no matter. Age only smacks me in the face when I get cornered by a couple of 90’s babies who draw blank stares when I make references to “MacGyver” and “3-2-1 Contact” observe,

Catchy, non? The whole hipster identification-thing is so foreign to me. I never aimed to be anything other than “alternative” which is what us pee-paws used to be referred to back in the day. “Alternative” meant you wore combat boots and floral print dresses – the boots you found by calling every Army-Navy store listed in the phone book and the dress was from Salvation Army. 9 times out of 10 you made the alterations yourself. Hipster is an evolutionary term. It started as alternative and warped into mainstream, a title that Madison Avenue approves of. That’s why you see commercials of hipsters driving cars, buying laundry detergent and carrying babies in slings. We’re all aging now. The only difference is that if I want a floral print dress and combat boots in my size, I can just go online.

I find it enduring, these kids today. Wide-eyed and ready to be cool. They want coolness and fame above all else and are prepared to knife you in the back to get it. I suppose that’s more of a punk-rock inception – punk-rock-hardcore mates where a lot more handier with weapons than us alternative-hippie-hipster-types. Those punk-rockers are the ones running Madison Avenue and revealing in their capitalistic revenge. I mean what’s a better F-you than coaxing a cool kid to buy laundry detergent? Genius if you ask me.

Look I’m a woman over 30. Pretty soon anything I say won’t matter because my breasts won’t be high enough to catch enough attention towards my point of view. That’s okay. At least I’ll have my brain and the anonymity of this blog. I’ll also have a butter knife to throw at my own coolness. It’s funny. As you see the light of your youth fade away you become increasingly desperate to hold onto your own hipness (i.e. Demi Moore – as in pack in it, girl). Me, I’m going to die with my own dignity in tact. Like Audrey Hepburn. Ain’t that every girl’s dream?

Audrey Hepburn

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