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I know what you’re thinking – “I’m a traditional gal, and the man should propose to me, not the other way around.” I get that. But if you’ve been living together for 3 years with no ring in sight, it may be time for you to take matters into your own hands. Proposing to a man doesn’t have to be seen as a desperate act by a woman who fears becoming a cat lady. No, no, no! If you’re a bold woman who knows what she wants, why not go after it!? I know it can be scary, because after all…you’re asking someone to spend the rest of their life with you. If you need some help making the first move towards marriage, here are some tips and things to consider before you get on bended knee.

If you haven’t figured it out by now to make a point I’ll use an extremely embarrassing personal moment to illustrate what I mean, and today is no different.

In college I went above and beyond the Freshman 15 and gained 30 unwanted pounds.  An ex-boyfriend helped me to lose 40 pounds and I’m not gonna lie, I was feeling myself for a minute.  I was going to the gym twice a day and I would start off every work out with running a few miles on the treadmill.  My ultimate goal was to compete in a triathlon, but when I found out that they wouldn’t let me swim wearing a life vest (I’ve nearly drowned a few times, and very fearful of deep water), I set the bar a little lower and started training for a 5k.

But after about a year and a half of all this intense working out I started burning out and took a hiatus from the gym.  Originally it was only supposed to be for two weeks, but a year later, I still hadn’t gone back.  When I started putting the weight back on (and upset at myself for throwing away all of my “fat” clothes) I decided to go back to the gym and get the weight off as quickly as possible.

I woke up at 5:45am, walked from my dorm to the gym.  Put my stuff in a locker, and with a tunnel vision that I didn’t know I had, went up the stairs to the floor that had all of the equipment and went to the treadmill that I spent so much time on.  Taking a deep breath and turning on my iPod, I stupidly turned the machine on, set it for 30 minutes and turned it to the last level I was on a year ago and started running.  With my first step I felt happy.  ’Yes, I’m back at it!’  Second step I felt invigorated:  ’I didn’t realize I missed running so much!  I feel like I could run for hours right now!’  The third step became torturous:  ’Now how long do I have left to do?  29 minutes and 53 seconds?!’

Feeling extremely winded, I closed my eyes and kept on running and tried to imagine myself fitting back in my old jeans, and a bikini that I was too shy to ever buy and with my eyes closed, my foot missed a step, and before I knew it I was catapulted into a row of ellipticals right behind me.  No exaggeration, it literally was something like this.

With my eyes still closed I could hear the gasps of shock, surprise and horror coming from the few people who came to the gym at such an early time.  I could hear their footsteps as they ran to me to see if I was okay.  I still had my eyes closed as they helped me up because I felt too much shame to look in their faces.

Source: nbc33tv.com

Her name is Sweet Brown and she is either your worst nightmare realized or a funny anecdote to a story that could have been tragic.

Last Saturday, Brown narrowly escaped a three-alarm blaze that engulfed the Chateau DeVille apartment complex in Oklahoma City. The fire, which apparently started in the apartment of a wheelchair-bound woman, sent one resident to the hospital, destroyed five other homes and left as many as 44 apartments without electricity. Most of them will probably end up in shelters provided by the Red Cross until the complex is repaired or a permanent living situation can be found.

After the early morning fire had cleared, local news channel KFOR descended upon the scene to scope out residents for a first-hand account of how it felt to escape the fire. That’s when they found Sweet Brown. Donned in a carefully knotted mutli-colored head scarf and fronting a thick backwoods drawl, Brown described in the most dramatic fashion her horrifying experience, when she realized her apartment complex was on fire.

Said Brown, “Well, I woke up to get me a cold pop and I thought somebody was bar-b-quein’, I said oh Lawd Jesus, it’s a fare. Then I ran out, I didn’t grab no shoes or nuthin’ Jesus. I rr-ran for my life. Then the smoke got me – I got bronchitis. Ain’t nobody got time for that.”

Have you started face palming yet? Well, you wouldn’t be alone. If you watch the actual video, you will see a young man lurking back and forth in the background, shaking his head and palming his face as well. But the story of Ms. Brown doesn’t end there. You see, yesterday, the video went viral with over 350,000 views.  Pop culture blogs like Gawker proclaimed Sweet Brown as the next big viral star and Hip Hop Wired has said that she is coming for Antoine Dodson’s crown. And with that, six million black folks in the US collectively face palmed again. I can almost hear the chorus of many of them cursing her name and decrying how “she has set us back about 50 years.”

But me, I love everything about this clip. What’s not to love? First, who really does have time for bronchitis? Secondly, there is her name. That’s the kind of name you associate with somebody who makes sweet potato pies for a living or a Ray Charles song, not someone chilling at home, drinking pop (or soda, whatever you want to call it). Thirdly, who knew that Jesus was part timing it up as a television news reporter in Oklahoma? You would think that being the Son of God would garner him some cool perks like working in one of the top television markets. Must be the recession. And finally, she wakes up in the middle of the night, smells smoke and instantly thinks there’s a barbecue going on. Well played Ms. Brown, well played indeed.