For Mothers Everywhere ... Love, Me

It's Mother's Day and I can't think of a better way to celebrate than by giving a shout-out to some of my fave moms of all time -- including my mother and myself! From funny, cool, and uber-sexy pop culture royalty to actual blue-blooded child-bearers, the maternal instincts exuded by these hot mamas always makes me smile. How totally fabulous is that?

1. Morticia Addams
First off, I actually wanted to BE Morticia. How hot was she, wiggling around in that slinky black number, with her long black mane and boobs a-burstin', driving her crazy-wealthy-crazy husband insane? Dang. Gomez was surely under her spell, but it was his "Cara Mia's" sharp-as-a-razor wit and blasé attitude that sealed the deal for me. Morticia was absolute perfection -- and her mothering skills? Wednesday and Pugsley weren't complaining.

2. Samantha Stevens
Sam was sexy, funny, and possessed some pretty awesome powers. Who else could travel back and forth in time, turn people into toads (or any other animal), concoct potions, and make riches appear with the twitch of her nose? Let's just say Tabitha was one lucky little witch. I'd practice the nose aerobics for hours to no avail, but what perplexed me most was why the hell she stuck with either Darrin. York or Sargent, could they have chosen more derpy dudes? Ewww.

3. Endora
Who didn't adore Endora? Dripping in drag queen glam, menacingly powerful, and so damn over the top there was never a top in sight. Ever. Nothing was sacred. (Tee-hee!) Endora perfected the art of being wonderfully wicked ... and I loved her protectiveness toward Samantha. Talk about f*cking FIERCE. I secretly wished that she'd replace Darrin with Major Nelson ("I Dream of Jeannie") or some other hunk, but that was just my opinion. (I know, I need to get over it.)

4. Mrs. Gloop
"Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory" (Gene Wilder version) is one of my all-time faves -- SUCH a fun flick. The original characters were absolutely brilliant ... so much so, that quoting them never gets old. Why Mrs. Gloop? Well, what can I say but, "Au-goo-tus, sveet-heart, save some rrrhoom for lay-tahhh!" "You've boiled him up, I knowww it!" "He'll be made into marshmallows in five seconds!" "You're not sqveezing me sthrough zat tiny door!" OMFG. Pure genius. I, for one, can't get enough.

5. Mrs. Teevee
"I serve all his TV dinners right here. He's never even been to the table." "I assume there's an accident indemnity clause." "Somebody's touching me!" Enough said.

6. Cher
After finally getting over the fact I couldn't BE Cher, for a brief fleeting moment I wanted to be Chastity Bono so I could, at the very least, have access to mommy's killer Bob Mackie collection. (I'd even resigned myself to wearing a wig 'cuz my hair never grew that long.) Aside from the fact that Chastity was an adorable towhead (blondes do have more fun -- I've been both and can attest to this), Cher seemed to be such a loving, doting mama. (I still love how she loves her kids.) IMO, clothes and anything my heart desired? WIN-WIN.

7. Carol Brady
Who didn't want a perky, smiling soccer mom who ran around town in Pucci-esque mini dresses? (I did.) Carol had it goin' on with her frosted shag 'do, hot little bod, handsome architect hubby, sprawling ranch-style home, and not one damn worry in the world. Plus, she had ALICE! Partners-in-crime don't get much better. Those kids seriously scored.

8. Clair Huxtable
You just don't f*ck with Claire. She's a lawyer and will sue your ass, chew it up, and spit you out -- all before her morning OJ. God I loved her.

9. Miss Ellie
Miss Ellie was the only one who could control J.R. Ewing -- now that's a testament to true power. (Are you picking up on the power theme yet?) Plus, she lived on a gorgeous estate and everyone loved her to bits. "Mama" was the kind of old Texan lady that you don't mess with. She could shoot you with her eyes closed and walk over your dead carcass for afternoon tea.

10. Sue Ellen Ewing
She had zero backbone, was a lush, and sucked as a wife, but Sue Ellen was all about mothering (sometimes smothering) John Ross. And her Bill Travilla wardrobe. And money. I like that.

11. Lucille Bluth
There is a God and she has one helluva sense of humor. If I'd grown up with Lucille Bluth, lord only knows how much funnier (or f*d up) I'd be. Hmmmmm. Let's just say therapy doesn't hurt. Her subpar mothering skills are no match for her finely honed sarcasm, which trumps tuna casserole any day.

12. Princess Diana
Shy Di did it her way -- and raised two altruistic sons any mom would be proud of. All while flipping off the entire monarchy. Gotta love ballsy blue bloods with a fantastic sense of style. The whole world loved her and so do I. Still.

13. Jackie Kennedy
Style, beauty, grace ... this fashion-forward First Lady epitomized American royalty. She was a stoic and protective mother to John Jr. and Caroline, as well as an iconic role model to millions. Add me to the list of fans with a JK girl crush!

14. My Mom
What can I say besides how much I love her? She's my best friend, confidante, biggest cheerleader, and never tires of hearing my voice. (Okay, I'm sure she does, but she never lets on.) Born in the Bronx, my mother's taught me selflessness, loyalty, and a NYC-bred fierceness that has made me the woman I am today. Plus, she's ever-supportive and kinda thinks I'm the funniest thing since sliced bread. Mom tells all her senior pals (as well as peeps on the street) all about her daughter's wacky music video. Bless her heart. Thank you Mom, for everything. I love you.

15. Me
Well I admit, I've given mothering my own twist and have somehow succeeded. (For the most part.) Of course, being a mom is a partnership of sorts -- I wouldn't be writing these words if my life hadn't been touched by the angel that came into my life 20+ years ago. I'd relive every single second to have you as you are today. Thank you my darling. I love you and am surely one very lucky mama.

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SINGLE PARENTS ARE SUPERHEROES!

Forget satire, songs, and being silly. Let's get serious ... if just for day.

Today is Single Parents Day and I honestly don’t know where to begin – it would take volumes. That said, I suppose having the baby’s a good place to start. My life changed forever and became perfect all at once the moment she was born. I was in baby love with the most incredible being. Her innocent little eyes looked up to me for everything … how could I (or anyone) not want to give her the world? Those that know us know the answer.

Words can’t describe playing the role of both mom and dad. I often felt isolated and unsure of exactly where I fit in. Though definitely challenged on some levels, I was blessed with a child who somehow understood we were in this together. It wasn’t about social norms, expectations, or stuff – it was about love. It was about US.

There was no other option but to prevail. Sometimes the gray area was blinding, yet here we are. We actually made it -- quite swimmingly, I must add. I jumped in, followed my gut, and did my best. (It also helped that she was quite an amazing co-pilot.) People act on instincts … and seeing her now proves mine were pretty damn good.

It’s been a long, short, wonderful, frightening, beautiful, trying, ever-rewarding journey. Miraculously I weathered the emotional rollercoaster to raise a brilliant, successful young woman. The word “proud” doesn’t quite cut it. (Let me throw in “Class Valedictorian” just once more. Please. Oh, and did I mention brilliant?)

Bottom line, I’d relive every single second to be exactly who and where we are today. Because of her words I understand the meaning of true wealth. Because of her fierceness I’ve come to realize my own strength. Because of her love I believe in angels, as she is truly mine. I am so lucky to have lived this life. Thank you my darling. I love you … infinity squared.

Celebrate Single Parent Appreciation Day and send lots of love to all the moms and dads raising children alone … they truly have the hardest job in existence. Hopefully, like mine, it’s been the most gratifying. xo

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FOOT FETISH ... MOI?!

Since it's my beloved "TGI Foot Fetish Friday," I have a filthy little secret to confess. (I'm really a pasty white girl and not Asian at all? Why screw with your bewilderment? It's waaay too much fun.)

Here goes. I'm head over heels over ... heels. Like kryptonite. Yes, you heard correctly and it's totally true — shoes are my crack, smack, and whack all in one. (Is whack even slang for a drug? No matter, falling in love with a new Italian designer is like someone whacking me upside the head. Same thing.) Talk about a contact high. The second those puppies hit my puppies, a euphoria rushes over my body like none other. Move over Mary Jane, there's a new Mary Jane in town.

Wait, there's more. Hard as it is for me to divulge, I actually, hear me out, quiver at the mere sight of come-f'ck-me black patent ... and don't even get me started on kid suede. Two words: multiple glam-gasms. (For days). Oh my. So it makes perfect sense why I'm totally hooked on men hooked on my feet — especially when clad in strappy little numbers that reveal a sufficiently sexy amount of toe cleavage. Trust me love muffins, they're ALL into my feet. (And my rockstar pedicure.) Ancient Chinese secret or TMI from pasty white? Nope, just merely stating the facts. Whoever invented the term "shoe porn" was the Einstein of what really renders a woman powerless. Is there a Nobel Prize for that kind of brilliance? ('Cuz he/she earned it. In spades. Make that Kate Spades.)

This delicious level of dependence can't be rehabilitated through hypnosis, shock treatment (OMFG, they don't have my size!), or even the most rigorous 12-step program. Imagine standing before a group of poor souls struggling to banish their demons and admitting my insatiable desire for D'Orsay? Thanks but no thanks. Am I worried about spiraling into the depths of overdose-dom? Hell to the no. You can keep your clean living, bitches. As long as I'm sporting the latest Louboutins, I'll be the happiest (and most fashion-forward) junkie to ever buckle up a T-strap. Just watch me.

Since I was a just wee geishanista back in the Bronx, every pump, platform, boot, shootie, flat, flip-flop, slingback, stiletto, wedge or Wellie has held me spellbound. (Even though I despise rain, we must look smashing in it.) My aunties' closets were the absolute Holy Grail — all filled with fabulous shoe collections just waiting for my child-sized feet to explore. I'd be transfixed for hours, parading around in ankle straps, kitten heels, and a motherload of mules. It was endless. Dinner came and went and I never knew. Ferragamos were my food of choice.

In fact, I've been known to lay down a nice chunk o' change on a plethora of peep toes all in one sitting rather than go grocery shopping. (The sales peeps know me by name ... how sweet is that?) I mean, what better ambrosia than a bejeweled Badgley Mischka? What tortellini's more tantalizing than a super-sized serving of Stella McCartney thigh highs? Bring it on. So don't hate me 'cuz I'm skinny ... just blame my love for leather.

During pre-production for GEISHA-MANIA, I was seriously out of control — rows of Roberto Cavallis called my name. Stacks of Giuseppe Zanotti boxes started piling up. At one point there were 30 pairs of shoes — just for a damn three-minute video (not counting my own massive collection, of course). I'd hit rock bottom and my poor stylist was forced to stage an intervention. She failed. I kept buying. It was absolutely glorious.

Problem is, after the final cut was finished, you can't even see the shoes! My darling babies were pretty much pushed clear out of frame and banished into oblivion. I say conspiracy, but director Luciano Fontana claims artistic integrity. I'm sure I'm right, but you know how Sicilians get. I'll give him this round, cause there's always GEISHANISTA GO-GO, my upcoming music video. Wait till you see the kooky kaleidoscope of bling, fashion, fun, and wacky rap. And all-important shoes. So, Mr. Director, we shall see who wins this next battle ... you or the shoes? My money's on the Manolos ... they totally kick ass. xo

See what I mean?

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HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

I'm just full of LOVE today and so, so, so thankful for all those in my life that make me feel loved, cherished, and adored. I'm talking family, friends, and those whose words or smiles always turn my day around. Completely. THAT, my little wontons, is what today (and pretty much every other day) is all about. Not to mention the random marriage proposals. They're quite lovely too ... and funny as hell. Keep'em coming -- they totally put a smirk across my face. You guys crack me up. No really.

Aside from all the warm 'n' fuzzies, diamonds don't hurt either. Especially anything over three carats. Set in platinum. A Tiffany blue box works just fine. Can you feel the love tonight? Oh yeah, babydoll, give me one of those and you definitely will. Or shoes. Shoes are the next best Valentine's Day gift. (Not a fan of chocolate and flowers die.) Can you make'em Louboutin? Size 7 please. Come to think of it, a trip to Fiji would be fun. Especially in the dead of winter. I love wearing bikinis in winter. Okay, diamonds, shoes, and a trip. Got that?

Back to the serious stuff -- not that diamonds and Louboutins and trips aren't serious stuff. Oh my. But here's the thing ... women just want to feel loved unconditionally. If you're the type of guy who needs to prove it by dropping a wad, so be it. I'm all for that -- you have my approval.  On the other hand, it's the spontaneous, everyday gestures that truly win her heart. Dancing when there's no music, holding hands, kissing in a crowd. Why not tell her that you've never felt so loved by anyone in your life and how thankful you are to have HER? Okay, I'm getting nuts. Stick with the swag. xo

Need a last-minute gift? Shop GEISHA GEAR for all your Valentines! xo

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WHAT DO A GEISHA-NISTA™ FROM THE BRONX AND BOB MARLEY HAVE IN COMMON?

Fitting as yesterday would have been his 69th birthday, I came across a "10-things-you-didn't-know-about" Bob Marley story that blew my tight little topknot ten feet high. The similarities between "Tuff Gong" (that would be Bob) and this bling-lovin' "Geishanista" (that would be me) are beyond AMAZEBALLS. Of course, I had to share.

Let's get right down to it — he loves reggae, I love reggae. Yup. I'd even bake a red, yellow, and green-striped cake in honor of the endless hours spent listening to "Rastaman Vibration" back in the day, but we all know that could end badly ... and I'm not talkin' funny brownies. Nothin' says lovin' like hemp-glazed goodies, but ovens are bastions of pure Bavarian evil at its Black Forest best. Think Hansel and Gretel. (See German reference below.)

Aside from both of us being singer/songwriters with measurable disdain for "The Man," what could Bob and I possibly have in common? Jump aboard the Zion Train and compare the deets ... simply put, you'll be bowled over. (No pun intended.)

BOB MARLEY:
Iconic Rastafarian reggae superstar. Jamaican legend. Philanthropist. Dad.

LADY GEISHA:
Fabulous, quirky underdog with killer biceps. Comedic rapper. Label whore. Mom.

So far, crazy, right? For starters, everyone knows what he was smokin', yet no one's quite sure what my deal is. Heh-heh. (A stretch, perhaps, but SUCH a kawinkydink.) Next in a long line of implausible parallels, he hated his birth name, Nesta Robert Marley. BINGO! I hate mine too. (Not tellin'.) Hence, why I answer to any and all of the following: Lady Geisha, Lady G, Lady G-lo (me an' Jenny are both from Bronx blocks), or LG. Or Yakeii Tiesha. Or Zoe Black. Or Zo-Zo, as a friend affectionately calls me. (Is there some sick subliminal Bozo reference there? Not quite sure, though you'll never catch me in an orange wig.)

Moving on to commonality number three ... Bob possessed the ability to read palms starting at age four. (Much to his mother's shock--and horror--when his predictions actually came true.) Moi? I have psychic dreams in which I telecommunicate with people. Sure as I'm one chopstick short of a pair, the very next day that dream plays out in real life. I kid you not. (There are witnesses.)

Both TG and I had childhood demons which made us even tougher. Bob was known by Kingston peeps as a "white boy"because he was bi-racial. (His dad, Norval Marley, was a Euro-Jamaican of British heritage.) Growing up in the Bronx, I was known as "twiggy legs" for having super skinny legs like Twiggy's. (The 1960's model.) Clearly it was due to my pasty "white girl" half-German, half-Irish descent. Uncanny, eh? That's what I said.

Here's another biggie. Bob, quite the ladies man, had one famous, albeit slightly overused, pick-up line. "Yuh wan have ma baby?" charmed countless women right out of their tams. (Evidently it worked. He has 11 confirmed children, three with wife Rita.) Though I wouldn't exactly call it a "pick-up line," one of MY all-time favorites is "So you've heard of me?" after strange men say my name upon meeting. Boy, the stories I could tell. (One confirmed child.)

Having grown up in poverty, Bob was uber-generous once he attained success, and supported many less fortunate. Let's just say I, too, grew up appreciating every damn dime. To that point, I'm currently working on geisha-tastic projects that will enable me to contribute to various charities, specifically those supporting single parents, women, gay/lesbian rights, animals, and the creative arts. What the ...? We could've been twins. Just sayin'.

Lastly, one of Bob's most famous quotes is "Love the life you live. Live the life you love." Well, SHUT UP -- THAT'S MY FAVE QUOTE EVER! Can you believe it? Talk about six degrees of separation. It's like we had the same brain.

During my punk-rock-girl-pack days at Irving Plaza's reggae nights in NYC, I had no clue Bob and I were such simpatico souls. His lyrics lingered in my strangely shaven head over and over and over -- like smoke circles. (Another coincidence? I think not.)  The signs were all there, but I'd been blinded by mohawks in a sea of dreads.

If anyone ever told me how much we had in common, I'd never have left Montego Bay during a spring break vacay with a wacked-out Sicilian BF. F*ck that maan, I could've partied with BOB and, IMO, we could've made beautiful music together. Could you see me as a Wailer?  No, really. (Mwahahaha.)

Luckily, I can still relive those days via several very well-worn cassette tapes that survived the decades since. It's easy breezy to kick back, play the songs, and light one up (an aroma therapy candle, that is ... what were YOU thinking?), yet somehow this newfound knowledge of our special connection presents me with a higher responsibility to honor this talented man. To honor his music. To honor the political angst. To honor "US."

As I'm set to record two new songs this month, maybe, just maybe, I'll mull over a potential third. Now, and this could be a stretch, is anyone up for "GANJA-MANIA"? ('Cuz we know damn well "Everybody's doin' it, everybody's doin' it!")

TGIF, BITCHES!
xo

Don't forget to check out my new website and online store to shop for Valentine's Day gifts ... there's GEISHA GEAR FOR ALL!

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GONG XI FA CAI!

With new music, GEISHA-ON-THE-STREET videos, books, merch, and more, I've got lots of little surprises up my sleeve -- but nothing dangerous! (Well, let's hope not.)

So stay tuned for THE YEAR OF THE GEISHA! (Don't say you weren't warned.) xo

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THANK GOD IT'S ... FOOT FETISH FRIDAY!

These are the reason someone coined the term "Shoe Porn." I'm all hot 'n' bothered by Gianvito Rossi's leopard calf hair sandals ... perfect for 50 Shades of Trouble, no? And since they have MY name written all over'em, I can't imagine why Sugar Papi shouldn't pick them up on his way home tonight. I'm all about surprises. Seems like someone (ahem) will be wearing a great big bow and not much else. 'Cuz THAT'S how I roll. Talk about "SHOOBYLICIOUS"! Muy caliente ... xoxo

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FRIDAY, FRIDAY, FRIDAY ... WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY WEEK?

HOLA IS RIGHT!

Oy ... it's been another long, hard week. At least for me and that's all that matters. Seriously, the life of Lady Geisha is not ALL glitz and glam. (Well, mostly it is.) Diamonds, furs, and caviar can take a toll on one's inner fabulosity, so sometimes (just sometimes) it takes more than a whiff of a new Birkin bag to get this bling-crazy bitch out of bed. Seriously. Which is why my bevy of pool boys know that when Friday rolls around, they better wake me up with the party already started. There's nothing more enticing than an icy, spiked pitcher full of fun with my morning paper. It's gets me to open one eye after the other, take a quick dip, and then the rest of the day is GEISHA-MANIA! GEISHA-MANIA! -- all the way till Monday. 

After all, with Valerie Harper getting the DWTS boot and Miley shedding clothes faster than the government can shut something else down, a geisha-nista's gotta do what a geisha-nista's gotta do. And for this quirky, middle-aged underdog with killer biceps, that spells P-A-R-T-Y!!! 

Have a blast and GO GEISHA-MANIA! http://youtu.be/20h4EkWnk4g

xo