Looking for Azz...

Seems like half of the people that come to the blog are looking for some variation of azz:

I find this interesting.  Especially this "ass woman" search and the arrangement of the words.  Why our peeps from overseas love searching using this term is beyond me. 

And you know what's really funny?  Most of the visitors who search for this are from Pakistan where the women are covered up.  Now they make such a big deal about women exposing themselves or showing too much skin, but then get on the internet and look at naked women anyway.  Now ain't that some ish?

Friend Turns Into Foe?

It's funny how a man can come between friends. 

Instead of being mad at the dude for his "ideals" and his "fuckery", your girl gets salty at YOU and cuts YOU off because that's its a way of convincing themselves that they are taking ACTION.  Frankly any ACTION taken should involve dude, not your damn friend that's been riding with you way before he walked onto the set.  Someone usually gets cut off, but is it the person that was the source of their whole misery?  Nope.  It's the easy targets that get the cold shoulder.  The friend that will probably forgive and forget will get the ax because they know you "will take them back" when it's all over.  So because they aren't quite sure if their boo-thang will do the same, they ride that crazy train until the wheels fall off, all the while saying "I need to focus on me" when really they are focusing on HIM.  They lick his azz and cheer him on, trying to everything they can to stay on his good side.  What "side' they are on with you don't matter anymore. 

I tell you dyck is like a damn drug. 

It can make us irrational, lose weight, lose sleep, and lose those in your corner.   All at the same time. 

I know because I have been there. 

And for what?  Why do we do these things? 

For a fairy tale? Yep a muthafuccin fairy tale that we create in our own minds when in real life dude is nothing but a damn nightmare.  

Yep, dyck is a drug.

I say that because isn't it funny how all of sudden you become the one that's getting on their nerves? They ain't got time to hear about anything that's going on with you and they get annoyed when you talk about 'your stuff'.  Notice how they don't even ask anymore what's going with your life.  That's because....

Dyck is a drug.

Before it was dude that was not making sense and talking crazy - now it's you that becomes the one that ain't making sense and talking crazy.  Yep!  Now something is wrong with you?  When the tide shifts this way, you might as well stop trying because...

Dyck is a drug.

I've learned that any "friend"  that's shifted the "problem" as being you instead of him is probably too far gone to save.   There is nothing you can tell that person.  If you speak too frankly to them about dude you're hatin'.  If you don't say enough then you don't care enough and are selfish.  They somehow try to bring the things that you have told them about yourself to rationalize whatever they're doing.  It's hopeless.  You just gotta let them ride that wave and pray that it is worth the sacrifices that they have made to keep that dude by their side. 

Because dyck is a drug...You become unnecessary. 

U.NECES.SARY.  Even if your friend won't admit that to you, that's probably what it really is. 

(sings)

"You're gettin' in the way....of what I'm feelin."  

So if you are in "dyck's way" ...ahem I meant "love's way" , then just move.  Just get out of the way and be done with it.  And maybe then I...I mean YOU can stop asking yourself what in the hell happened to your friend.

I Killed the Baby G

Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!  If I had a tambourine I would run up and down the aisles of this crappy New York City library right now.

(Sniff.  Sniff.)

 It kinda smells like the Funky People been sitting at this table.  Whew!

(wrinkles nose)
  
Oh well.  Let me just try to focus.   Everyone else seems to be okay.  Maybe they are used to it??? 

(Wait.  Interruption.  Someone comes up to talk to me.) 

Ok so my scarf was on the floor and the library security lady with the 40DDDD breasts just told me to pick it up because, as she put it, "Things might grow on it from these people that be in here.  You know what  I'm saying?"

I quickly picked it up and we chuckled quietly together.  

(Sniff.  Sniff.)

That security guard has been boozing it up somewhere in this library.  I could smell the liquor wafting in the air as she passed.   The smell was strong too.   I bet she probably takes shots between the stacks of books.  LOL.  Man I tell you, New York City is a trip.   Everybody is a damn character.

Anyway....back to work.

So I was sitting here in the library working on a different post and I just ran my fingers across my upper lip.  And I'm smiling wide because it's as smooth as Tyrese's head right now.  After a month.  I  repeat...AFTER A MONTH.   For me this is some real shyt and a definite reason to celebrate with a blog post! 

I'm telling you this is BIG!  I don't know why it took me so long to get this right, and lawd knows it has been practically a lifelong struggle dating back to puberty.  I was probably 12 or 13 years old when one day this boy in grade school got in my face all close up and personal, squinted, and screamed, "You got a moustache!"   Of course his loud ass got the attention of the other kids, and they started pointing and discussing me like I was a science fair exhibit.  I'm sure that I only had a few baby sprouts on my lip at the time, but it was enough to cause a stir on the schoolyard.  It was terrible and I will never forget that day.  Kids can make you feel like crap.  I quickly slapped my hand over my mouth and screamed, "So what!  So what!" until the teacher came by and broke up the scene.  Back in the classroom I sat with my hand over my face for the rest of the day suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome.  After school I ran home humiliated with my hand over my mouth the entire way.  After I was able to pull myself away from the bathroom mirror, I went to tell my mother about the situation.  I figured that she would know what to do, because she was a girl once (I think). 

Her solution:

 

"DON'T TOUCH IT.  IT WILL GROW BACK THICKER". 

That's all she said, and went back to cooking dinner.  I stood there waiting to hear more, but there wasn't anymore.  

Don't touch it?  Did you say don't touch it?  That's all you got Ma?   You're supposed to be all knowing and have the answer to every problem!   So how am I supposed to get rid of it if I don't touch it?  I wish I didn't even ask because all you did was just scare the shyt out of me with that advice. 

Now I was humiliated AND mad.  She didn't get it.  She had no clue that the schoolyard incident signaled the beginning of my bout with self-consciousness.  She didn't understand how The Hairys just added to the other things that I was already becoming insecure about at that age.   Now fast forward to high school where by then I had transformed this insecure, crazy head trip that lasted pretty much the entire four years.     The boys were cruel.  The girls were bitches.  Light skinned was in style and I wasn't light skinned.  All the praises went to people with  "good hair", Guess Jeans, and Coach purses....and I had none of the above.  I wasn't hearing enough good things about myself.  Not even from my parents.  I swear if it weren't for the random boy who dared to show interest in me every now and then, I probably wouldn't have heard crap.

 

Ok, ok  I'm getting off track.   The point I'm trying to make is that I didn't listen to my mother about how to handle The Hairys.  She was buggin' if she thought I was gonna sit back and do nothing about a hairy f*ckin' lip. 

So despite her advice... I touched it anyway. 

And that's because I still wanted to put up a fight.  For maybe 20 years that fight has involved me using almost every weapon and method out there from chemical warfare (Nair), physical torture (electrolysis), to bulldozing them (shaving).  You name it and I have probably tried it.   When I was dating my Latin Lover aka Chipotle, he tried to be encouraging by saying that the faint moustache made me look intelligent.  LOL.  I would just laugh when he said that.  Only Chipotle could come up with that weird azz compliment.  He said women with moustaches were "muy intelligente" because they are too intelluctual to be concerned with vanity.   Double LOL.  Nice try Chipotle, but I wasn't buying it.   I told him that when I see a woman with a moustache, the only thing that it says to me is either "Shave me" or "I don't give a f*ck."

And speaking of not giving a f**ck, I have a new found respect for the old ladies that have The Hairys and the Baby Gs (Baby Goatees) on their faces.

 

For years I have always wondered how any woman could let things get to this point, and now I think I know why.  It's because they have grown tired of trying to keep up with these muthafuccas!  The older you get, The Hairys become almost like roaches.   You kill one and three come from the command center ready to take its place.  The Hairys usually stay winning on Grandma probably because 1) she probably can't see them anymore because her eyesight ain't what it used to be, or 2) she can't grab the tweezer to pluck the shyt because of her arithitis or her "nerves are too bad".   I realized that at some point she finally said, "F*ck it.  Let the shyt grow."  I can most certainly respect that because imagine going thru a LIFETIME of waxing, tweezing, and plucking?  Anyone would get tired of it, hence the reason for the pic above. 

Then you got that other group of women who say "F*ck it".  The lip hair ain't no big thing to them.  Some even think it makes a statement. 

 

   YES THAT IS REAL>>>>>

 

 

Like my girl at the bar where I work.  She proudly sports her peach fuzz and has no problem with it.  Dudes are still checking for her hard and it's not affecting her life in any way, so her philosophy is "if ain't broke don't f*ck with it".   She is a thick and shapely chick that commands a room when she enters it anyway, so her hips and thighs more than make up for the shadow over her lip.  She just has that ghetto fab swagger that will stop traffic (in ghettos) and the guys just eat her up.  And I do mean...Literally.  Eat.  Her. Up.  Overall she just carries it well, and if I could rock a 'stache like her I wouldn't be writing this.   But I know I am not about that life.  I'm too self conscious about it, and I'm not quite ready to have the lunchroom lady look with the red lips and moustache.

 

After trying almost everything I had found that threading has been the most lasting solution for me, even though it hurts and makes my eyes water most times.  I have been ten years strong going to Bita and 'nem at the threading salon, but the thrill is fading fast.  As each year passes the hair is growing faster, wilder, and meaner.   I can't keep up!   It's to the point where I find myself plucking wayward chin hairs while sitting at a red light in my car.  I carry tweezers like I'm packing a pistol.    Then shyt got real when I saw an old boyfriend one day. 

 

It was a BRIGHT, SUNNY WEEKDAY MORNING when he came up and surprised me.  I was waiting for the train to the city staring at my cell phone. 

 

"Wassup?" 

I looked up at him startled.  He looked good.  But my lip and chin didn't.  In fact his face looked smoother than mine! 

And to make matters worse, it was way too sunny out for him to be rolling up on me like that anyway.  It was the type of sun that puts a spotlight on every line, blemish, pimple and hair from a mile away.   Even though I had my makeup on and I was dressed for a NYC day, I hadn't been by Bita and 'nem in about 2-3 weeks.  I didn't have the time, and I didn't check the Baby G that morning because I was running late.  It was no way I could pull out the tweezers and perform an emergency beard removal.   He was already upon me flashing his million dollar smile.

For 45 minutes I rode the train next to him in anguish.  We chatted away about all types of things, but when I spoke I wouldn't make eye contact with him.  I kept fumbling around in my purse trying to avoid giving him a full frontal view of my face.  I'm sure that he peeped that I was acting weird, but I couldn't help myself.  I was mad uncomfortable and he was just too close to me.    When we got off the train and parted ways, I was mad as hell and told myself that was it.  I was tired of The Hairys and tired of the Baby G making me uncomfortable.   I had had enough.  I immediately went on the internet and researched electrolysis and laser hair removal and made some appointments.  My game face was on!

First I tried electrolysis and that was a beotch.    <<<<It hurt like hell>>> and left sores on my skin from the electric pulses from that dagger probe she was using.   You have to put electricity on every single f*ckin hair, and I had way too much fuzz for that nonsense.  It was pure torture.  I think the Polish lady who did it knew she had jacked me up too because she had this apologetic look on her face and gave me an awkward smile as I studied my face in the mirror.  When I left the place I was even more pissed than before, because although the hair was gone I had a bunch of red damn marks and sores all over my fkn lip!  It defeated the damn purpose of why I even went there. 

 

Next I tried the laser removal thing.  I was worried because I read that it wasn't a good method for brown skin, so I looked for places that supposedly specialized in laser work for Brown Girls.  I bit the bullet and paid the astronomical $79 for the session - a session that lasted all of two minutes.   But to my surprise it worked!   Well.    I noticed results right after the first treatment.  The hair barely grows back and I only have to go to a session every few weeks.   I went ahead and bought the package deal and after five sessions the hair is almost all gone!  I did get two small surface burns once and it freaked me out, but they went away in less than a week.   I just used makeup to cover them up and it was all good.  But there is never any pain, and that was important.

(exhales)

So Hallelujah!!!  Although from what I read, no method is guaranteed to remove all hair, but if it takes 90 or 95 percent of it that is totally fine by me.  That's better than looking like a furry spider.  So no more Baby G.  No more dealing with The Hairys.  I was finally able to fix something that had bothered me from my days in grade school and I feel good!  If I see that ex boyfriend again (and I'm sure I will) I'll look his azz dead in his face, bat my eyes, and pucker my lips so they look extra sexy.  
 

So add the laser removal to my toe surgeries, correcting my teeth, and fixing my ear lobe - which is all part of OPERATION STAYIN' MARKETABLE.   I'm actually proud of myself about the actions I have taken over the years for myself.  I'm even thinking about another surgery this year.  Why?  Because I ain't got no babies and can spend the money on upgrading myself.  As women get older our stock drops in many men's eyes, and that's why you see these old cats hawking the young gals.  I can't go back to twenty, but I can try to make sure everything looks right and tight.  And yeah I know it may appear that I am "into" correcting cosmetic things or that I may seem vain, but addressing these little things really has helped my self-esteem.   I don't think that is a crime, especially not for a chick who went thru a mental hell and a lot of negative bullshyt during her early to mid-teenage years.  With everything else that is going on that is really f*ckin' with me right now, this was the one happy thing that was worth writing about.

 

Now back to regular programming.

 

Where You Been?

(sits back and exhales...)

Finally.  I have carved out some time to blog.  I hold my head in shame for neglecting this blog like I have.  Damn.  For one I am so glad that NC17 has not taken me off his blogroll because if it weren't for him I probably wouldn't have anybody landing on this page to begin with.  I truly need to keep riding his coattails so at times I feel the need to keep blogging out of fear of being dropped by him!  LOL.  And I can't have that!  I don't have thousands of followers but the ones I do have I know I owe a lot of them to people clicking on the link over at Black Girls Are Easy.

But of course I don't just blog to keep my status up over on his site.  I have had tons of things to write about, and I do it to get things off my mind or make things clearer.  It's just been hard finding the place and time to do write.  I used to write all of those wonderful masterpieces while at work, but for the past year or so I haven't been able to do that.  Now that things are fugged up at the job and I'm working on leaving, I just have to rearrange my life and squeeze in time to do the things that I want to do --- like writing.  I felt that I was losing my touch, and my writing skills were getting rusty.  As I get older I even think that I have now have a touch of dyslexia, and I'll write something and when I read it, it sounds totally whack.  But I am gonna pound out this blog post anyway even if it kills me.  I have to bartend tonight (ugh, don't know why I volunteered because I got mad personal shyt to do), but I'm not gonna do another thing until I write this.  No matter what.  The girl is gonna write!! 

So what's first on the list? 

Should I talk about my mother telling me that I embarassed her yesterday after learning that I was a Broke Ass Woman after her nosey azz sister read something about me?  

Should I talk about that my job basically told me to get the f*ck on because I don't lick my manager's azz enough to his standards?  Well that's one of the reasons anyways.  LOL.  I'm not perfect but I do a decent enough job. 

Or how about some bar stories???!!  Yeah, yeah.  (rubs chin)

Should I talk about these hating azz broads at the bar I work with?  Or how about the time when this man called me a bytch over a $5.00 drink he felt he was cheated on?

Oooohh....now wait a minute!  Here's a good one.  I could write about The Artist Formerly Known as Cornrows turning into a possessive little weenie bytch!!!  That's probably the best story I have from 2012.  He caught feelings so hard that he would call me hollering about me talking too long to people at the bar, or that  he felt like he was my secret lover (which he was), and then the grand finale when he texted me calling me a trick and a hoe after he saw another dude in my car.  I can put anybody in my car that I want muthafucca!   I wasn't trying to hurt anybody, but it makes me exhausted just thinking about his insecure, weenie azz.  I think his birthday is this month too.  F*cker. 

I could talk about my pseudo boo boo, Mr. Trinidad, whose breath sometimes smells like well...boo boo.  No lie.  I think it's something internal going on with him because sometimes his breath smells like azz.  Once I went in the bathroom at work and someone had taken a dump, and it reminded me of his mouth.  Word.  If it wasn't for the "thickness" of that member I probably would have bounced a long time ago.  I keep him around because he is sweet and very thoughtful.  More thoughtful than anyone I have ever met.  He was my backup to The Artist Formerly Known as Cornrows and he was the alter ego of Tin Man who was a complete nightmare.  What we have is pretty good though, however there is one problem.  Sigh.  More on that later.

Then there is Tin Man.  The Monster.  The Weirdo.  The Aloof Moron.  The Heartbreaker.  We spoke the other day.  As much as he is a big zero to me, hearing his voice stirred something inside that made me want to feel it just one more time.  I think he could sense it  too, and dudes know how to reel you in once they got you going---they send you a stock photo of their dyck.  Yep.  That is exactly what Tin Man promptly did.  He was on it!  And he made sure that the one he sent was a close up where you could see that his thang was just bursting with flavor and ready to go!  Damn him!  At first I felt a tinge of insult when he sent it, but that feeling quickly subsided.  Now I really think we should just f*ck and go back to not talking again.   Hmmm, I dunno.  He is sooooo fluckin' whack and lame.  Not sure if it's worth it the effort. 

 

A new story is developing too.  The female clerk at the post office wants to have sex with me.   I can tell.  She stares at me and smiles like she wants to eat me.  I always sensed something funny in her eye contact but last week she was looking at me in that "way".  Hard.  I think she is like five minutes from going in for the kill.  It ain't gonna happen though.

And last but not least, there's Shallow Hal.  He has just gotten too hard to take as of late.  I'll just let those blog posts speak for themselves on what I mean by that.  I haven't spoken to him lately but I bet one of them gals ends up preggo in 2013.  I tried to make a bet with him on that and he would only make a three month bet.  I wanted to bet for the entire year.  Obvioulsy he knows he can't trust his reckless dyck to go a whole year "raw riding" two fertile 30-something women.

So what shall it be?  Maybe these little snipets are enough.  I know that is a lot negative stuff.  A lot.

Hmmm...what's good to talk about?

Well I saved $29K.  That's up about $17K from last year.  That's pretty good since I filed bankruptcy about two years ago.  I also went to the Dominican Republic and I was back in the Bahamas for solo trips.   I was a bit reckless when I was out there but I made it back in one piece.  I do stupid things with strangers and I need to be kicked in my azz.   Then the plane back from Miami lost an engine and I thought I was gonna die in a crash!   Emergency trucks and people were crying and everythang!  It was so scary.  It was one of the worst experiences in my life.

So I'm thinking.  Thinking.  Thinking.  What first?

In the meantime, I'll pat myself on the back and check the blog off the list for today.  I just need to bring my azz back sometime this week! 

I'll think about what to write while I go and organize my shoes.  I'm gonna take a guess and say I own probably 100 pairs.  And just bought another pair today; another pair that I don't need.

That's ridiculous right?  I clearly have a problem. 

More later.

Interview with a Dog: The Plot Thickens

Shallow Hal and I are through.

At least on an intimate level anyway. 

I won't front and pretend that I didn't miss the attention, because I did.  I always said he was quite charming and generous.  And when you go from dealing with someone that wasn't doing shyt for you, then go to someone who does...it can be kind of mind blowing.  I liked what Shallow Hal did for me.  A lot.

So when it was over, I'lll admit that I went through a little withdrawal for a couple of days.  I felt a sense of loss.  Not loss on lovey dovey type of level, but a sense of loss from the attention I was getting from him.   It was because I wasn't on some lovey dovey shyt that the feeling didn’t last too long though.  Thank goodness!  Within days I quickly moved on (or went back) to old flames, and dabbled a little more on Black People Meet (BPM). 

To be honest, I was never really OFF the dating scene even when I was dealing with Shallow Hal.  I WASN'T THAT NAIVE.  The man had two other women who had babies literally a month apart!!!  I would have been totally dumb to think that I could scratch my way to the top of that heap of bullshyt.  I didn't want to anyway.  Shallow Hal could not be trusted.  He is a predator of the worst kind, and he is always on a constant search for p*ssy.   And the best thing to do when you're messing with a dude like this, is to shake off any feelings and keep entertaining new applicants.

Within a short time I started to sense that it bothered Shallow Hal that I was out there dating though.  He would ask me all the time how was BPM, and when I would give him the scoop, he would fire back at me with comments like, “I bet you wanna f*ck him don’t you?” Or “Do you think you wanna f*ck him?” and shyt like that.  I wasn’t having sex with anybody that I met on BPM, but I would "hint" that I was or wanted to just to f*ck with him anyway.  Maybe he picked up on my little game because then he shifted to throwing his encounters with his two baby mommas in my face. 

Once he texted me this after Miss New York’s six week post pregnancy waiting period had ended:

“I just got through f*ckin’ New York and it was sooooo good.”

Just out of nowhere I got this text.  At like 11 o'clock on a Saturday night.  Bastard.  He did that shyt to get me mad.  

"Obviously it wasn't that good if you thinking about me right after you f*cked her, you punk."

His bastard ass knew I wasn't interested in whether or not he got the p*ssy from her or not.  The text was meant to f*ck with me.  He was trying to rub it in because I had moved on and he knew that I might soon be taking a ride on someone other than his azz.

But there was another reason why I didn't like his text.  Deep down I hoped that she wouldn't f*ck him and that she would leave his azz alone.  He had dogged her.  For months he had been filing immigration papers and planning a life with Miss C.  He brought her over here from their country, while all the long Miss New York  thought that dude was riding only with her.  I wanted her to cut him off.  Teach him a lesson.  I wanted her to not f*ck him.  I might have even said that to him too once? 

"I hope she leaves you alone after all of this."

I think I did. Maybe that's why he was texting me?   To let me know that he was back in business with her, and that what I hoped for didn't happen.  Who knows.  But what I do know is that the text pissed me off. 

 “Why are you sending me this shyt?  Are you trying to make me jealous? ” 

Eventually he confessed to me that he was slightly jealous that I was starting to date other people.  Say what?  Um you got a lot of nerve you dog!  You're jealous of me talking to other men when you f*ckin' two women?  TWO!!!  Who both know about each other....and still giving yo azz a pass?  And you trying to hate on me?  GTFOH.   That was proof positive that Shallow Hal couldn't handle being on the other side of the game.  He don't want you dating no one else but him, but yet he can do whatever the hell he wants.  Well not with me Mister Man.  He had to learn; you might be the sun, the moon, and the stars to them two gals...but not to me muthafucca.  I keeps it moving, and I can find new dyck just like you can find new p*ssy.   You ain't gotta update me with your p*ssy conquests to prove you still the man without me.  Just stop it.

Thankfully, and as time went on,  he did stop.  On second thought, maybe not completely.  He would still tell me stuff about him being intimate with his two ladies; that never stopped. 

"Yeah we were f*cking all day, then I took a nap.  Then I packed and drove out to Miss New York's house."

I would just sit and listen.   It was when he was casually talking about his sexcapades that he told me about screwing in front of his kids.  As much as I missed his doting ways, after that confession I just couldn’t get the image out of my head of him f*ckin’ Miss C while the little ones probably looked on.  I just couldn't.  I know to this day Shallow Hal wishes he never told me that.  That information definitely changed the game for me.  I was turned off.  Permanently. 

And that's when things had officially shifted between us. 

SHALLOW HAL AND I HAD MOVED INTO ...

 

I mean the 'real' friend zone, not the 'friends with benefits' zone.  Of course if I was down to give up the booty Shallow Hal would definitely take it, and of course he would always try.  But I wasn't feeling it anymore.  I didn't really have anyone new in my life either, but the desire I had for him became nonexistent.  Plus I honestly felt like taking a break from dudes anyway.  The friend zone was a seamless transition for me and him, and I kinda liked that. 

We communicated pretty much every day.  He would call me while he was driving to work in the morning.  Sometimes he would call in the evening too.  During the day there were a flurry of emails between us, and by the end of a typical day we would probably send 20-40 emails to each other -- maybe even more.   I’m surprised I even got any work done most days. 

The subjects varied but most times the conversations were usually about him of course.  Hal loves to talk about himself. 

Or somebody he knows. 

Or somebody he used to date. 

Or his sister. 

Or his brother --- who is another f*cked up individual.  Don't you know this man DETESTS Black women?  His family brought his azz  from his country to have a better life, he grew up and served in the armed forces, then has the nerve to turn around and hate on Black women.  Hard.   Openly hard.  In fact he is totally disgusted and turned off by anything Black.  Including chicks from his own country.  So it's no surprise that he will only date Caucausians or Latinas.   Half his age at that.    After hearing this, I seriously wondered how Hal and his brother grew up.  What in the world was going on in THAT house because how these two deal with women cannot be a coincidence.  I'll probably never know.  Maybe it's a cultural thing with women for them.  I dunno.

So like I said, if I started to talk about any personal experience that I had, Shallow Hal would always manage to turn the conversation around where it would be him running his mouth about HIS EXPERIENCE instead.  LOL.  Whenever this happened, I would silently chuckle at his level of self-centeredness.  I understood the kind of person that I was dealing with though.  Shallow Hal always, always, always thinks about himself.  I noticed that it was difficult for him to listen very long about someone else, particularly women.  Now is that a bad thing?  I would say no, but only if that self-absorbed mindset doesn’t impact other people.  Of course this is not the case for Shallow Hal. 

In fact, Shallow Hal is a user.   He is a charming and handsome manipulator who has impacted the lives of everyone around him.  He changed the lives of two innocent females who believed that he loved them…and them only.  Hell he has even impacted my life too, so much so that I am sitting here writing about him right now.  Knowing I have a boatload of shyt to do for myself, I am using MY TIME to blog about his shyt.  And I ain't even getting paid!!!!

 

(rolls eyes)

Two Months?

Noooooo!!!

Don't tell me that it has been that long!  What the hell is going on?

I think about the blog all the time.  Promise myself that I will post what I have written, and then something happens.  If you wanna know the truth, it's a glass of Moscato that usually happens.  When I drink a glass of that, it's usually over.  Then today I just Googled that I might have a bit of dyslexia because I noticed that the drafts of my blogs are just all over the place.  It's like when I read them I can't even understand what I was trying to say.

So lemme just do this quickie post.  Maybe this will get my damn engine started.  I have been juggling these men, juggling these jobs, and trying to do everything else in between that it's clearly it's causing me to neglect my little diary. 

And this can't go on.

This can't continue.

Hmmmm.  Maybe I just need to write in tidbits instead of writing SAGAs like I was doing.  My latest draft on Shallow Hal is seven pages long!  No wonder I don't wanna go back and proofread that shyt.   The thought of going back and tweaking it is driving me to the damn Moscato at night.  I feel like I am editing a movie script.

But I will finish it though.  I have to.... 

...because it helps me breathe.

And right now I feel like I can't.

Interview with a Dog: Part VIII - Too Much To Take

“Mind trips are not what I wanted outta this.  Shyt was getting to my head now, and I knew then that I had to get off the rollercoaster. 
That's when Shallow Hal reveals something to me that even I couldn't take...”

I wrote that back in April.   Wow.

It’s been a minute since I wrote about Shallow Hall, Miss New York, and Miss C.   Months have passed and the summer has come and gone, but with the heat came a little clarity for me on some things.  I guess I’m good enough now (whatever that means) with coming back and resuming the Shallow Hal posts.   It is a lot to catch up on, so like before I have to write it in bits and pieces.  I hate that I waited so long to write because when things happen I say, “Yeah I’m gonna blog about that.”  And then I don’t.  Then I end up mad at myself that I’m not blogging because I find that when I do it clears my mind a little bit.  Besides, there are lots of things going on besides Shallow Hal and his shyt!!!  He ain't the star of this damn blog.  I have some good azz stories to write about starring MY DAMN SELF anyways okay?  Don’t need his azz to make an interesting story to write on my blog.  I'm interesting all on my own!  :)

But I will give him and his drama the stage again, because over the past few days I wondered about what he brings to my life.  

He’s a male chauvinist, and he admits to that. 

He is a dog, and he admits to that. 

He is a cheater, and he admits to that too. 

And when you combine all of this with a pocket full of money you have a real live Stevie from Love and Hip Hop on your hands.  In fact, when I watch the show (yeah I admit I watch it), I can’t help but to compare Stevie to Shallow Hal because they both are.................

RATS!!!!

Both are men who are dealing with two women, and the only reason why he wants them to get along is mainly for his selfish benefit.  How would SH benefit?  Well according to him, his dream would be that Miss New York would come and live with him and Miss C out in PA.  This way he can stop giving Miss New York the $800 per month; Miss New York can go and work because she speaks English; and Miss C would stay home and take care of the two kids he has with her, and the kid he has with Miss New York.   He has jokingly even spoken to Miss New York about this scenario too, especially whenever she complains that she has to work every day and Miss C doesn’t.  Of course she gets mad when he brings it up, but he says he will keep trying. 

Me:  “And if she does agree to come.  How do you think Miss C will take it?”

SH: “I don’t care.  Right now Miss C is in the better situation of the two in my mind.  I would just tell her she’s moving in and that’s it.  What can she do?”

And the man is dead serious.  He really wants them all to live together.  Every time he tells me about this pipe dream I really think that this man is crazy.  I really do.  But I know he is gonna try to sell it to Miss New York hoping that she will soften up and give in.  He already figured that he wouldn’t get anymore azz from either one of them if he got them to move into the house together, but I guess he will just get back on BPM and find someone like he did me.  

(shrugs shoulders)

So back to Love and Hip Hop.

I was watching the show this past week, and Stevie came in a therapy session with a shirt that had the words “I AM GOD” blazoned across it in big gold letters.   I instantly thought of Shallow Hal.

I think Shallow Hal thinks that about himself also…that he is God to women (or at least to Miss C anyway.)   I even remember him telling me how he told Miss C that he was God once.  It was when he first showed her the new house that he bought out in PA.   As she looked around the place, she was just awed and amazed at the size of her new home.  She happily said, “Oh I am soooo grateful to God for what he has done for me.  Look at this house.  God is doing so many great things for me.”

But Shallow Hal didn’t like that she said that.  “Well I must be the God you’re talking about because I’m the one that made this shyt happen.”

He shut her down on who to give credit to real fast.  How dare she thank God?!!!!  After spending $30K on a down payment Hal wasn't letting NOBODAAAYYY take credit for shyt!  I was like damn Hal, can she have her little spiritual moment?  Sheesh.  I always tell him that he seems like he is controlling, but he always tries to make me sound like a nut.  His idea of controlling men is those who stalk women or stop women from going where they want.   He always screams, “That ain’t me!!!”  Ok so he ain't a stalker, but no matter how many times I try to explain to this fool that he is controlling in other ways he doesn’t listen.  I told him that in that he deliberately found a chick who was helpless without him, forced this situation down her throat with this other chick and his other baby, and because she ain’t got no family here – she’s stuck.  He just runs all over her and goes f*cks his other woman every weekend, and leaves her by herself 80 miles away all alone with two little kids.  She can’t speak English.  She can’t drive nowhere.  She can’t do nothing but walk to the park and to the local grocery store and strip mall.  He's controlling if you ask me.

The thought of it all makes me....Grrrr....

Ok, I’m getting off track.  Let me rewind before this starts getting too long.

Aiight, so as I last I left it, I said that Shallow Hal revealed something to me that even I couldn’t take.  It happened on a day he asked me to meet him for a drink after work.  I suspected that he was doing it because things between us where starting to fade, mainly because the babies were here and he couldn’t keep the two baby mommas and me happy too.  Plus the situation was sounding so messed up that I was finding myself getting turned off.  He wasn’t looking that good to me anymore either, and the compliments he gave me I just felt were lines.  I just wasn't feeling him like I used to.  So I guess this was his attempt to make a little time for me.  When I meet him of course he starts with his regular sugary shit…

“Oh you look so good!”

“Oh you’re so pretty I bet all the dudes were checking for you today.”

I just rolled my eyes and said, “Whatever” in my head.  It’s the same shyt (or similar shyt) he always says, and I’m sure he says the same things to his other two gals too.  I wasn't moved by his words at all.

As we are walking  to the bar, he starts to tell me about his oldest son who was about 15 months old at the time.

“Guess what he did the other day!”  He yelled.

He  said he was in the waiting room at the doctor with his son and Miss C.  When little man spotted another little girl toddler across the way, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared her down.  Then little man just walked up to her, and without a sound got in her face like he was about to kiss her.  Hal said he had this look on his face like he was gonna tongue little momma down right then and there.  SH said that he quickly grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him back over to where they were sitting.  "Hey kid!  What the hell are you doing??!!!"  I looked at Hal, and he had a look of amazement in his face.  I guess it was the same look any parent would have after they see their little kid doing something that looks too mature for their age.  After he finished the story I faked a chuckle and said, “Oh well he is being just like his father. “ 

I shut it down.   I didn't wanna hear anymore.  Hal still had this baffled look on his face about what his kid did, but to be honest I wasn’t interested in the story.  I guess I wasn’t in the mood for hearing about toddlers being fresh.  Or maybe it was because it was HIS TODDLER and I thought that he was breeding another Hal.  I don’t know what it was, but something just wasn’t sitting with me right after hearing that story.  Instead I changed the subject because I was feeling bothered for some reason.

But that was nothing compared to what Hal told me next.

Shallow Hal and I are sitting in the bar.  He spits out a few more “You look so good” remarks (yawn), compliments me on my outfit, and we chit chat about various topics.  We didn’t have a lot of time to meet because he had to get back to PA, so I get right to the juicy stuff.  I just wanna hear about his tryst primarily.  I ask him what the latest news with them was, but he tells me that he doesn’t want to talk about them that night.  No matter how much I asked, he wouldn’t budge and wouldn't give up any info.  F*cker.  Okay then.

Instead he wants to talk about his kid.   He confesses that he really only cares about the oldest boy, and that he doesn’t think much about the newborn at all.  He also was annoyed that the oldest kid is sleeping in the bed with him and Miss C.  Hal said he couldn’t get any sleep because the kid sleeps wildly and was kicking him in the head in the middle of the night.  LOL.  He had been trying to get Miss C to have him sleep in the crib from when they first got here from their country, but when the kid starts crying she gives in and brings him in the bed.  After months of that routine the kid wasn’t trying to hear nothing about that crib.  Even if they do get him to start off sleeping in the crib, he will get up in the middle of the night and crawl back into bed with them.   Right on top of Shallow Hal’s square shaped head.  LOL.  Then all of a sudden Hal is reminded of something, and a smile comes across his face.  The convo switches lanes and he starts to tell me another story,

“You know that kid is funny.”  (laughs)  “You know he tried to pull me off of her a few times?”

“What do you mean?  Pull you off of her?”

“You know, when we be f*cking,  he grabs my leg and tries to pull me off of her.”

I gasp. 

“What? Are you having sex in front of him?”

He calmly says, “Of course I am.”  He takes a sip of his rum and coke.

“You shouldn’t be having sex in front of a child!  Are you serious?!!!”

“Well when am I supposed to do it?”

“When the kid goes to sleep!”

Shallow Hal waves me off with his hand.  “ I’m not waiting for him to go to sleep.  That kid doesn’t go to sleep until after 11pm and I have to go to work in the morning.  I'm not waiting up that late.”

“Then put him to bed earlier then!  You can’t be having sex in front of your kid!  He learns from what you do!  No wonder he stepped to that other kid like he was gonna take her down in that doctor’s office.  He is watching your big azz f*ck right in front of him.”

My eyes widen and I feel my face getting hot.  Shallow Hal looks at me and he can see that I am annoyed.  He seems to think about it for a couple of seconds, but he just blows me off again.

“It’s not a big deal and I am not waiting for him to go to sleep!” 

His voice is getting louder but I don’t care.  I’m not letting up on this, and to be honest, I couldn’t believe I was even having this f*ckin’ conversation anyway.  I got a grown azz, Wall Street professional sitting in front of me, wearing a nice suit, telling me that he f*cks his woman in front of his 15 month old son.  Like an animal.  We go back and forth about it for a couple of minutes, but I can see that he doesn’t wanna listen. 

“Hey if I want some azz I’m getting it.  I ain’t waiting on the kid to go to sleep.  He don’t even pay attention to us like that anymore anyway.  That was only twice he tried to pull me off of her.”

"It shouldn't have been even once!" 

I wanted to puke.

“Ok.  Then do what you want.  But when that kid goes to day care and preschool and starts humping on the little girls then you will wonder where it gets if from.”

Silence.  SH seems to be thinking again, but you can never tell with that muthafucca.  When he switches the topic to something else, I knew he wasn't listening to me.   Typical Hal.  We chatted for maybe another 10 or 15 minutes but the tone of evening had really shifted to the left after that convo.  I was done.  He dropped me off at my train, and as I walked to it, my mind was racing.   I couldn’t believe that he actually thinks that it is okay to have sex in front of a kid.  To me, that’s like sitting a toddler in front of porno movie instead of cartoons.  The thought of it was too much for me to take.  I had never heard no shyt like that in my life.  Now I have read about people being caught when the kid walked in on them, but I never heard anyone initiating sex while the kid was in the same room looking?!!!  That's just not cool to me.

When I stepped out of his car I knew.  It was over for me.  I was done with him on an intimate level.  I mean the other stuff was pretty bad that I knew about and had participated in, but this sex in front of the kid thing ---- I couldn’t stomach that.  In my head I questioned Miss C too.  I asked myself how a mother would think that is okay?  I mean is it okay?  Am I being uptight?  I know the kid is little and probably won’t remember stuff, but you never know!  Kids imitate their parents.  What if he slips up one day and blurts out something in day care about “mommy and daddy on top of each other and my mommy makes noises”.   I could be over exaggerating and making something out of nothing, but my gut tells me that this is just straight foul.   It bothered me so much that I went and looked it up on the web, and I even asked a male friend about it who is also from their country.  He said that this woman‘s first priority is to please her man.   Whatever.  He didn’t agree with what they were doing, but he said honestly the woman should be the one stopping that more than the man.  I disagreed.  Hal is the most educated of the two of them and should know better as far as I am concerned.  But again, this is Shallow Hal.  When it comes to getting azz, there ain’t no rules but his.

The subject was dropped for a while, but a few months later Shallow Hal is telling me about his asshole friend (that’s for another blog because I actually went out with asshole last week; now I know why he and Hal are friends.  Ugh.)  His friend was dating some chick that was 20 years younger than him, and he was bitching because her 2 year old wouldn’t go to sleep and it was preventing him from getting his azz.  He had to wait until one in the morning sometimes and he had to go to work.  The things men complain about.  LOL.  Then Hal blurts out..

“I told him ‘Hey, I f*ck in front of my kids.  I don’t give a f*ck.  If I want some azz I’m getting it and I ain't waiting until my kid goes to sleep.'"

I could feel my body stiffen as I held the phone.  Is this moron bragging about this this dumb shyt?   TO OTHER PEOPLE????  He kept on talking about whatever, but I couldn’t hear anything else.  I had to stop him.   I asked him how did his friend respond to that confession.  Hal said he didn't.  Then I told him don’t tell another soul that he has sex in front of his small babies.  I said that all someone has to do is overhear him saying that and child care services could be called.  And you and Miss Caribbean will be in some deep shyt.  ESPECIALLY HER....WITH AN EXPIRED VISA.

And when I said that, he listened.  After I put it that way, and that Miss C could be deported over that shyt because in his state it is considered CHILD ABUSE to have sex in front of a child, he agreed that he shouldn’t talk about that with others anymore.  I finally got thru to that rock head for once.  But the problem isn't really solved.  At best he probably won’t tell anyone else, but I don’t think he will stop f*cking in front of his babies  though.  Getting azz is way too important for him.  I told him that he was the poster child for "How Not to Raise a Kid."  I just feel he doesn't take in interest in the upbringing of kids.  All he talks about is buying clothes for them.  To me, he just wants to play with them, and he doesn't give a shyt about their development and learning.  I emailed him once and wrote, "I bet there ain't one kid video in that house.  Not one book.  Nothing."  I was getting on him because I knew he wasn't thinking about it.  The kid does nothing but grunt and point and he is almost two.  He didn't reply to that email.  Because I was right.  On the real, Hal just wanted kids.  He wants someone to call him Daddy.  The rest of it he ain't worried about.  But then again how could he?  He got two chicks he gotta serve dyck to and pay for so they won't get mad at his dumb azz.  Apparently he can't focus on too much else.

Anyway, that little story marked the end of me of Hal on an intimate tip.  I never f*cked him again after that.  I was disgusted and turned off from him.  I kept imagining his d*ck out, drinking straight from his Bacardi Rum bottle, and getting Miss C from behind with his kid sitting in the midst.  (shivers)  It bothered me so much that I even told the therapist.  I always said he talked too much, and this time he said too much.  I didn't get loud with him though.  You can't do that with Hal.  He doesn't handle emotions too well.  I never told him that I stopped f*cking him because of this thing with his kid.  When he asked I would just say, "You don't have time for me."  And I left it at that.

I didn't hate the dude, so I became the "friend without benefits" because I still wanted to find out how he was gonna work this shyt out with these two women and two babies who were 1.5 months apart in age.  Even though I had checked out on the intimate tip, my mind was still stirring about the rest of it.  I was drawn to the story.  By this time, Miss C’s visa expired, he wasn't marrying her, and she started saying things to him that were clearly suicidal.  What he was telling me got worse and worse; to the point that he was scared to leave her alone with the kids.

And it was then that I decided to make a move.   A big move.  I just hoped and hoped that I could pull it off....