Nope, it’s not a new black female superhero – there are already too many of them out there already (not!) nor is it Star or Oprah. It’s just what happens when E! True Hollywood Story comes knocking. They are coming to visit me again - not for my True Story (at least not yet) but its because of the little-book-that-could: Threesome. It seems that now I am an authority on all things Sex and Sports, and they’re including me in a show about Sex and Love in Professional Sports. Besides talking about the usual (…these women will do anything…) I may even give up some of my own little dirty tidbits. So you’ll want to stay tuned for that. But also to check out my beautiful Lilly Pultizer halter top and my new hair-do which will be tossed up that morning. The air date will be sometime this Fall – I’ll keep you posted!

Despite the fact that some of you think that I have a limo that mysteriously appears at my Northeast Philly doorstep and transports me to whichever destination I choose, I actually take the train to work, preferably the Regional Rail but today I chose the El train. And no, I don’t mean Lionel Simmons.

Often my El rides have been privy to witnessing crimes of fashion, or displays of ignorance. Today during rush hour on my trip home, it was my witnessing a serial cell phone caller that had me in a knot. Besides the lack of air conditioning I would’ve made it through unscathed except for being forced to listen to a young girl casually make call after call to her girlfriends repeating a tragic story about a brother who was killed that day, who’d just had a baby four days ago and who’d just grown his first bit of facial hair. On and on she went and with each repeat I began to get more sick to my stomach. Amidst these calls, this sista was trying to find out how many times he’d been shot and where it had taken place, all the while telling everyone that his mother was going to be so upset.

Later that evening while I watched the movie Syriana (which, if not for George Clooney would have sucked) I felt the need to call my son Kelvin (something I often do after hearing another young man being gunned down) and he began to tell me about a friend of his who’d  been killed, which turned out to be the same young man which I felt like I already knew so much about from over-listening on the El.

My lesson – return to the taking the R7 and avoid having my day concluded by ignorant girls repeating sad stories, about life being cut short.