Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Value Nuggets

Don't you just ladies it when exes creep out of the woodwork? Uninvited? Hide! There's a salesman on the doorstep! They're married... Or douche bags. Or married douche bags. Oh baby, you're the one that got away. Uh, really? Why? You dumped me, remember? Because you settled for a miserable woman who can't keep you satisfied? Quack. Quack. Or your life has fallen to pieces... And you had me down for Plan B? Wait. The morning after pill? Like I'm an option. Um, no. I'm no option, buffalo breath. I'm a choice. Top choice. Grade A+ Choice. 

When you've moved on and you are happy, it's almost like the exes can smell it. Sniff. Sniff. So they want to taste it. Nom. Nom. Nom. But, the reality is... It's more of a test for you, than it is about them popping up. Pop! Goes the weasel! Do you really value the new person in your life? Triple value menu bitches.  Are they special enough to you that you will send the past packing? Have a nice trip! Are you going to let them know you have a valuable nugget on your hands? Panned that gold. Whaaaat. That you are glad they dumped you? I sure as hell am. Because had they not, I wouldn't have been available and ready to load up on the new special sauce who entered my life. Oh yeah, got that secret sauce flow! Respect the value of your nuggets... 


Monday, August 25, 2014

Funtime Fail



Having a Funtime guy on the roster is a great way to pass the time while dating prospective multi-season contract holders. They're entertaining. They're spontaneous. You're not committed to take them -or their feelings- seriously. Everybody's in it for the short haul and it's all around good dirty fun. Until he has baby mama drama pop up. Oh she's just trippin... Uh what homie? Did you just say "trippin?" Because you're in a relationship and you're technically cheating on her? ...And her? I'd be trippin too. Thank you 90s hiphop culture reference. Bye... jerk. Or asks you to meet you somewhere -like in another city- and then asks YOU where you're staying. Uh, wait. What? You invited me asshole. That means I stay with you. I'm not paying to ride this ride. Three coins please. Even a Funtime guy needs manners and a sense of decorum. Or it isn't fun at all. Wah. Thanks a lot, No fun, fun guy. 

There are rules to dating for fun.  First of all, you must be single to play the field. Otherwise, you're just a dirtbag cheating loser. This applies to guys and gals. Secondly, in order to be in the singles games of fun, you need to be prepared to treat her like a lady. Tea, madam? Yes, Even if it's just a Funtime pal. Hey buddy. You still gotta be a nice guy...  the cool part is that you aren't committed, so there's no need for the loyalty rules to apply here. Just discretionary rules. What's that you ask? It's basically the Keep Your Mouth Shut rule. 

But alas... There comes a moment when it's time to cut the fun guy loose. If he's no longer fun. But he's more of a Funtime Fail. Wah, you're boring. Bye. If a better "he" has crossed your path. Ooo, hottie patottie, replacement full steam ahead. He's got drama. Whoa there nelly! Let's padlock the barn. Or you're just finally ready for something real. I wished upon a star and he floated down from the sky! 

Pay attention. If the fun guy is in fail safe mode. Get on it. Stay on that pony... Ride those 8 seconds for all it's worth. 



*This has been a public service announcement for Funtime guy and how it should be handled. ;)

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Boyfriend Blind

Girls. Girls. Girls. How any times have we gone and been with a man we believed was good for us… and only when he's left us in pieces, do we realize that he was playing us like a violin all along? Makes me loathe the violin. Or classical music. And I loved classical music. Assholes. Look, there are signs. Warning, sharp curve ahead. Red flags. Flippity flap.  Warnings bells. Bing bong, ding dong. But we often ignore them until we've been isolated away from everything and have no one to turn. Wait. Hey, where'd everybody go? Uh, you ditched them for dick. Good job. They gone, boo... gone. Oh, he's gone now too? Long gone. Shocker. Sounds like you got yourself into a pickle. Listen, my sisters, pay attention. Here are some indicators that you may be in a relationship that is bad news. Extra! EXTRA! 

#1 Secret Lover. This is a gimme. But chicks still accept the excuses. If he won't introduce you to his friends, family (or kids.) "sshh… This is about is baby." I bet it's not. And gives you the excuse that it will upset his baby mama. What's this ho got to do with it? "Let's wait until the time is right." Run. Fast. Get rid of him. Any man who wants a future with you will shout it from the rooftops. Ollie Ollie Oxenfree! Anything less than that is an excuse and it's likely that you're being used. Sucker! Wake Up!

#2 Baby Mama Drama. His baby mama is sending him sexy photos with the caption "do you miss me yet?" Ummm…. he's still banging that heifer. Hot moo sex. I don't care what bullshit story this douche gives you. Lies. You have a problem. You have a dirt bag with a baby mama problem. Let's keep it real. Whys this bitch sending sexy photos to him, if they aren't together? And she doesn't know you exist because... It'll upset her? Uh, but if I'm you're boo.. Wake up. You're not. And I've never sent my baby daddy sexy photos. Have you? Precisely... Not unless you was fucking. Tappin that ass! Any any fairy tale he gives you is just that, a fairy tale. He's lying.. Child support is mandatory sans a bikini HO. 

#3 Dwelling Squats. He lives in your apartment without paying for rent or bills. Good luck roomie! He's -purposely- integrating himself into your space (and will inevitably drive a wedge between you and your housemates; if you have them.) Dancing with your marionette strings to convince you, charging you up to make bad decisions, break agreements (only for roomies-but maybe in other sitches too.) I don't know about you but I surely wouldn't appreciate a random man living under my roof for free. And sleeping in that bed, that isn't his? Betcha the kids know exactly what you're doing. Turn a blind eye, I dare you. This type of guy is making sure to agitate any situation, he takes over you're whole life -work, home, spare time, etc. He's twirling you over his head like a helicopter. And not in the fun way you think you're having. Uh, what? Send that loser back to mommy. You did say he lives with his mommy? Right.  I thought as much. Sob. Sob. He foreclosed on a house? Wah. Wah. He had to get back on his feet? Whatever. I've lost a home too and didn't run home to mommy. It's called being an adult. If he can afford more than one nice car and his mom isn't on her death bed, there is no explainable (or acceptable) reason For his ass to be laid up in your crib -rent free. Bye-Bye, Succubus. 

#3-A. Outward Tongue. He feels he can interject in YOUR household. Sit down sucka. Conversations within your home DO NOT include him. Or maybe they do, since his fat ass is up in there breathing up all the oxygen and forcing that the air conditioning run 24/7. That he doesn't help pay for. Or reside in the residence -legally. But has his clothes and toiletries, as fixtures, in said dwelling. This Sasquatch needs a tranquilizer. Because not only, is Chewbacca doing a disservice to the overall peace of your household, This bottom dweller doesn't even know his role. You are a visitor. Shut up. Granted… a visitor who has never left. Who's propped his stanky ass feet up on her bed while her son sleeps on a living room floor. Oh, totally acceptable. Sarcasm. But, nonetheless, a visitor. STFU visitor. I must've missed you at the lease signing. You're name is not on the lease; therefore you are blind, deaf, and mute. Excommunicate yourself immediately. POOF! And if you have a roommate and her boyfriend does this; She's allowing it to happen... And, that's a whole other post on co-dependency. Or stupidity.  Both would be valid here.

#4 Is he trollin? Bitch he might be! This man manipulates your heart strings for your house keys. If you let this dude have a key to your place -he doesn't pay for- AND he stays the night while you're not home (further infuriating your living sitch) then uhhhhh… He trollin. This dude is setting you up for ruin. He's using his protractor to get what he wants from you without you knowing it. He does isolated maneuvers that appear innocent enough but when put together, you can see his plan at play. The woman, desperate to latch on to someone, will not only fall for this guy but will defend him in every sense until he has left her broke and emotionally wrecked. In her mind, Everyone who warns her when they see it is a shot down messenger. When it's at this stage, let her fall on her face. It's the only way she'll learn.


Hopefully y'all will learn something from this post. Is it love? Or desperation? Or got a good laugh. Stop acting like men are the light of your life ladies! Swiping light. Crunch. Stop giving guys the title of everything when you are getting nothing. What have you done for me lately? Thank you Jodi Watley. And you can get dick anywhere without the headache, so that's not an excuse either. 1800dickmeplease. Be independent. Superwoman. Stand on your own two feet. You do have two feet, right? Think for yourself. Knock. Knock. Any cells left in there? If you've left out key details to your friends and family about this dude, take a step back and realize that there's a reason you're covering for his behavior. Captain Hide-A-Loser. And if you have kids… They should be you're light. I hear angels singing. Confucktion says… Get your head out of your ass! (Sorry guys) All men are jerks until they prove themselves… so let them prove it by allowing them to make the right decisions… to earn your love. and if they don't, toss them in the dumpster! 


Monday, August 18, 2014

Hermit Dreams And Caviar


I've got hermit dreams with caviar... Actually, hold on, I don't like caviar. Fish eggs, right? At least, not since the last time I tried it. Yep, those are fish eggs. I will chow down an olive pate though... Yum. Well, with an impending reevaluation of the people around me, I've decided, I'm starting to believe all people are crazy and it may be better to retreat to a life of hermitry. Goodbye ole world! I can befriend my pillow, have conversations with plush animals and knit sweaters for stray cats. Note to self: buy plush animals. And find stray kitties. 

Granted, not all people will let you down. Suckers. Refuse to take ownership over to their wrong-doings. Did I do that? Yes you did. Or incorporate an action if absolute truths. Uh, It wasn't me. It was totally you. Stop lying to people. Ah, sigh.

 Not everyone can be like me though either. The company you keep is a vital part of who you are. Oh you didn't know? True story. High standards are just the beginning. I'll take a mocha latte. When push comes to shove, that's when folks show their true character. A side of hero please? Or jackass? What does a mocha latte have to do with this post? Absolutely nothing... Sometimes, a person's character supersedes your expectations. Hooray! But often, unfortunately, it's extremely disappointing. Boooooo! Either way, scoop up you're plush toys and stand you're ground. Is this asphalt? No... squishy carpet. Pass the caviar please? 



Photo, courtesy of, the renowned photographer Jared Alexander



Friday, August 15, 2014

Plush Windpipes

Wow. Never got dumped that way before. Tally them up girl. One for the record books. Someone dial up Guiness World Record Books. I swear with each dumbass I date, the endings get more and more creative. Pushing me off a building while gazing at the stars together would be original. Some end before they even begin. The "no-call" guy. The rest are just tick tock time wasting. The "hey babe, let's have fun" guy. Here's pretty much the rundown on the most recent endeavor: He'll have sex with you... Then not call for two weeks... THEN, he'll make a snide remark insinuating you have moved on to better... to get you to banter. You will respond. Direct insults always get the girl in the movies. Stupid chick flicks and their ideas. Then, He'll offer a restart. Dont do it. You think it over. Don't do it! And agree. You did it. Grrrr. Everyone deserves a second chance, right? Um, no. Miscommunication is an pandemic. Um... more like an excuse. Restart. Dammit woman. Once the restart happens, He will send you a long ass windpipe of a message that says, I'm so excited about seeing you tonight but... (Uh, ok, where's he going with this?)  But, I don't know if I can regain my mental connection with you. Ah huh. So basically he and his pea-brain are "A-OKAY" to come over and fuck... But only if you want! Douche bag King right there. 

Are you fucking kidding me? I'm no scientist; But, I do know how men work. Like children. You can come over and do the horizontal limbo. Party fun time wit the boobie bags. But.. eh, I no longer want to entertain dating you. Oh, the pre-requisite to actually putting your funnel in my cake. He's probably found some other challenge he'd like to conquer. Doesn't matter... This carnival is closed, clown. And he'll do the same to her. Nope, no unicycle to play on in that tent either. Sucker. Then dump her too. Because I'm in no way ready to find love - no matter what I told you. Why? Because I'm a liar. Because I'm THAT guy. Oh well. Deal with it. Thanks. We women appreciate that time and effort that goes into stabbing us with sporks once you've gotten our attention. Appreciate you, Rotten Ringmaster! 

And the most annoying part of the whole thing? All of it. No, kidding. Just the smallest part... That the sex was pretty damn mind blowing... (Guess it isn't the size that mattered, after all.) Ugh! Guess that checklist we had started, I will have to scrap. And measure that building one more time, with my plush toy army, to gage my painful fall. And then dilly dally elsewhere... Because I hate windpipes. 

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Caffeine. Face first.

All potheads -and non potheads alike- have heard of the phrase appropriately entitled "the contact high." Puff. Puff. Pass.  Now if you are unfamiliar with this coined affection of contemporary urban slang, let me divulge a bit so you can bring yourself up to speed. Vroom! Vroom! That's right, mamas here for you. Need a nipple? 

A "contact high" is what can happen to the non-smoker. Not just marijuana; but, cigarettes as well whom by, standing in a room filled with second hand smoke, do you inhale - that God-awful- said smoke. Sorry, my smoking friends. And to my non-smokers? You're not escaping it. But, yeah, you get to breathe it in. Believe me, I've tried. Ran, face first into a sliding glass window. Help me. Open! Cough. Cough. A heaping of fresh air to go please?

What happens is, we inhale this crap around us, and we get a headache. Or high. Expect my dramatic performance. From your smoking. I'd like to thank the academy. Thanks a bunch. Sharing is NOT caring, in this case. And this, my newly aware friends, is the contact high. 

Which brings me -half circle- to this morning. Not any kind of circle at all  really. But anyway. So I was making coffee... As I normally do every morning. Noon. And night. And snack time. And at midnight. Or any other fantastical hour in which I see fit for a brew. And my son comes to me and says "ew. I can't stand the smell of that crap. I have a contact high." Ha! What?! And he says he has a headache from the smell in the air from it! A caffeine contact high. Nice. And he ran around the room, attempting his escape.. Face first. Into the sliding glass doors. 

Friday, August 8, 2014

Bawling Bowler

Dating is supposed to be fun. I think I'm having fun. So doing fun things together is part of that process. Please not another movie date. So why, oh why... on earth, did I choose to go bowling?! Anyone who knows me knows: bowling + me = sore loser. 

But this was not my typical game play. No siree bob. Not this rouse around. I was kicking ass. Boo yah! I was on fire. Watch out! Witnessing first hand my ball rolling genius at work. E=mc pink bowling ball squared. As my round, three-holed pink unicorn made it's way down the lane, each time better than the first. Winner. Winner.

Here I thought I was going to go into a tizzy. A losing streak is have to crawl my cranky ass out of and I end up whooping everyone's butt! It's like my wii bowling all over again! Take that flop. I am no longer the disadvantaged bawling bowler. Wah. I am victorious. I'm awesome. I shall now be known as the brawling bowler now. Boom! I challenge thee dud... to duel. All ten frames. I will pity you not. No crying. Baby. 

Monday, August 4, 2014

Skirt Awareness


It's the wardrobe malfunction that comes from being skirt deep in a kiss. Smoochie woochie. Caress my thighs please. Yum thanks! How is it your so into whatever it is your doing that you don't realize you've got your dress hiked up over your head?! Maybe try taking a break from your kissing booth duties. Maybe hold off on your weekly alligator wading pool extra curriculars. 

I recently found myself cloth over head coming out of the bathroom. Didn't realize it. Oh yeah. Good times. Ass cheeks hanging out because I was clueless to my backside looking for attention. Streaker ambition. Maybe. Think anyone was going to say, hey chick, you're apple bottom is waiting for it's close up? Hell no. My stroke of luck. Didn't even get to make out with a boy to acquire this little problem. Dammit. Any volunteers? 

Next time, you're caught with your pants down, consider the alternative. Mine sucked. At least you had an awesome kissy sesh story to elaborate on.... The highlight of my story was falling in the toilet.