Friday, December 31, 2010

It Must Be Something In The Water

I tried my hardest not to make this post.  I really did. 

But I have conducted enough research, had enough conversations, and have had a few dates to be able to confidently make this conclusion:


The town is full of them.  I'm telling you it must be something in the water because the town is crawling with them.

I say this because:

Most can't make a f*ckin' decision or conduct research on a subject to save their f*cking lives.  

If we go somewhere simple like PF Chang's or The Cheesecake Factory they stare at the menu with dumb looks on their faces.  They are straight up baffled when it comes to making a selection!  I always end up having to suggest something for them.  One dude told me he never even tasted broccoli and he will be 40 in two months.  He shouldn't have even told me that - skrait up. I swear it's like having an overgrown toddler with me that has a goatee and pubic hair.

So helpless too.  "I don't know how to do that" is their favorite damn phrase.  Can barely use the internet or research how to do things.  Credit all f*cked up over $300 they didn't pay on some bullshyt azz cell phone they had from 2001.

They send you text messages like "Wut did u say?", "I didn't say dat", and "How you doin bb". And these are men OVER 35!!!!!!

Oh and did I mention cheap?  Broke azz muthafuccas won't tip or don't understand how much is to be given when you get the bill.  You'd be lucky if they laid down $5.00 on a $80.00 bill.

I mean some are nice, and could have potential to be a good man.  But then I am reminded of what my friend Kim always says, "Potential is for seventeen year olds."  At this age, you either got it or you don't.

I tell you, Jersey City is swarming with these men.  They are everywhere you look.  At the grocery store, the gym, the gas station.  Everywhere!  It's an epidemic!  THERE HAS GOT TO BE SOMETHING IN THE WATER.

If I didn't learn anything in 2010, that's one thing that I learned....that Jersey City has waayyy too many lames for the single female population.  I feel bad for my sistas there.  Thank goodness that I only bartend there and live in another town. 

I will NOT even entertain a Black man from Jersey City again. 
I have had it with the saggin pants, cornrows, and baseball caps.  I'm done.

The fact that some of them are even breathing and using up good air needs to be investigated.  For real.

I wish there was some type of hotline that I could call to have their azzes picked up.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Is It Wrong...

  • Is it wrong for me to look at somebody's kid and say in my head that he or she is kinda strange looking and not cute? 
  • Is it wrong for me to say that my cousin's son looks like a Tweety Bird?

    Big forehead.  Big ol' eyes.  Wispy strands of hair on his head.  That's him allright.
  • Is it wrong for me to say that my cousin's other son looks like a rat in the face and that he has a huge damn head?
  • Is it wrong for me to say that my other cousin is a bougeoise rich brat and that I don't care if we ever talk again?
  • Is it wrong for me to say that I really don't give a f*ck about the "We're family" philosophy and that I don't have to like you because we are family?
  • Is it wrong for me to see kids running in places where they shouldn't be and wish they would fall and bust their azz so they can sit down somewhere?
  • Is it wrong me for me to wonder how the hell you are allowed to bartend with rotten azz teeth in your mouth?  Yep, this was my co-worker at this other bar I worked at for a minute.  Would you wanna a drink from someone looking like this?

It was a low budget bar and needless to say I am not there anymore.

  • Is it wrong of me to fan my hands in the air when those Chinese chicks sit next to me and release their stanking breath in the air?
  • Is it wrong of me to be in the locker room at the gym and look at someone and think "Damn her body is f*cked up"?  (Hell, is it wrong for somebody to look at me in the locker room and say the same thing?"  LOL)
  • Is it wrong of me to dump you if your d*ck is kinda small?
  • Is it wrong of me to dump you if I don't like the way you f*ck?  Why waste each other's time?
  • Is it wrong of me to see a guy walk by and imagine them naked and think the word "Yeesh"?  Especially those dudes with those high,wide boodies.  They are the worst!
  • Is it wrong of me to have called the state on the other bar I was working at when the owner didn't admit that she owed me $40?
  • Is it wrong of me to have called the Department of Labor on a former employee when I saw her azz working in a bootleg CD store and she was still getting unemployment checks from me?

  • Is it wrong of me to have told Pretty Brown that I wanted to sit on his d*ck right at midnight on NYE (along with some other things)? I know, I know.  I shouldn't have done that.  Not gonna happen anyway. 
  • Is it wrong that I let Cornrows eat the box and I don't even like his azz...especially his hair?  His face ain't bad though.  Hell he kept asking...(shrugs shoulders) and I was in a drought.  It wasn't bad.  I give him an 8.  I was there 15 minutes and left cuz I had to go to work.  Now that's how you work that shyt!  Bounce just like they azzes do.  I doubt if I do it again though.  We'll see.  The toy is cool enough for me.
These are just some thoughts that I had as I get ready for the New Year.  I was just reflecting a little bit.  My moms is always telling me that I am wrong about this or that so I'll just put myself on blast this time.

I wanna go out New Year's Eve.  I wanna go out because I have these new pants and I want to wear them.  It's the day before and I still don't know what I'm doing.  I'll be mad if I don't go out.  The clock is ticking. 
My co-worker at the bar called me Christmas Day asking why I was all 'booed up' with her man.  WTF?  I didn't know he was your man and who in the hell told you that?  I wasn't hardly booed up with that nucca is what I told her.  His azz was on me!  Wasn't you the one who told me not to f*ck anybody in that bar anyways?  But here you go dealing with someone in the bar yo' damn self.  Gurl bye. 

In the subway this chick had dryer sheets sticking out of her gym shoes like ruffles.  Had nothing on her legs in 20 degree weather looking like Little Orphan Annie.  I had to giggle when I walked by her.   I bet she thought that crazy shyt was hott too.

You what's up girl, ain't gotta ask it

I dead em all now, I buy the caskets
They should arrest you or whoever dressed you
Ain't gon stress you, but ima let you know

Girl you be killin em
You be killin em
Girl you be killin em
You be killin em

Yeah she was DEFINITELY killing something with those dryer sheets.  I know it be stinking in the subway sometimes but did she have to take it that far?  It was almost as crazy looking as this big giant azz dog I saw with shoes on all four of his feet one night.  Too funny.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Top Ten Worst Songs of All Time

There's no real rhyme or reason why I decided to make this song post.  I am supposed to be working but don't feel like it at the moment. Since I am forced to listen to the radio all day, what they play has inspired this post today.  I hate these songs.  Some people love them but I hate them. 

10.  "Da Butt" - EU
9.    "This Is How We Do It" - Montell Jordan
8.    "How Did You Get Here" - Deborah Cox
7.    "Treat 'em Right" - Chubb Rock (they always play this shyt at old school parties)
6.    "Don't Make Me Over" - Sybil
5.    "No, No, No" - Destiny's Child
4.    "Deja Vu" - Beyonce
3.    Anything Nicki Minaj.  Like her story, hate her music.
2.   "Strokin" - Ugh.  And this crazy chick sings this every week at karoake when I'm bartending.  I just wanna choke her!!!!
1.   "Just Got Paid" - Johnny Kemp (Used to like it in 19-f*ckn-88 but they play this shyt everyday in NYC like it just came out.  And on top of that Johnny Kemp is oogly.)

BONUS TRACKS (just added):
"Can't Touch This" - MC Hammer
Keri Hilson anything
Soulja Boy anything
"Last Chance To Love You" - Ginuwine (that Barack Obama part makes me ILL)
"Are You That Somebody" - Aaliyah.  Sorry.  Sweet as Aaliyah was that damn baby saying "waa-aa" on the track gets on my damn nerves!  I don't get why that baby sound is even on the song in the first damn place, and I always focus on it.  It drives me up the damn wall.

Yeah a lot of these are old, but they are still in pretty heavy rotation on the R&B stations.  I'm sure that I could probably add many more to the list too.  Out of all the songs that people put out they play the same shyt on the radio.  Why do they torture me so???

As empty as the subject in this post is, it actually made me feel like I just smoked a blunt.   Sometimes when you get shyt off your chest you just feel HIGH.

Friday, December 10, 2010

"This Ho Got Problems"

I happened to Google my blog and found this forum where someone had linked my blog.  It was kinda shocking to read how they were roasting my azz on that Ten Confessions blog that I posted:

"Typical black female."
"She need help."

But I thought that the statement,"This ho got problems" was straight hilarious!  I had to laugh at that one.  Um, who doesn't?

When I first saw the forum my heart was in my throat, but hey, it is what it is.  No one likes to get talked about but when you put your personal shyt out there people will have their say.  I would be a fool to think everyone will cosign how I live my life.  So if I'm a hoe then I am a brave hoe that's for sure.  I'll take the good with the bad.


The double standard is alive and well in America.  Dudes can brag about what they do but a female can't talk about herself?  That's why I guess my shyt is so intriguing and is worth reposting I guess.  You never know what the f*ck people do in their lives - people just don't say it.  Dudes are down low gay, metrosexual, still feel some type of way because some girl broke their heart, f*ck around on their girlfriends and their wives, lie and everything else but alla that is cool.  I blog about a lot of different shyt on here and I don't write to get high fives and for 'do you girl' comments.  I blog because I feel like it.  I like to write.  The blog could be private but it's not.  I ain't making no one read this.  You choose to read it.  You choose to take time to read here and then go back, login at another site, and then comment it.  You only know what I write here, so run with it homies.  The girl or wife you're with could be or may have been the person that you try to make me out to be.  You probably would never really know would you?  Would she tell you?  Probably not.  Or your mom, sister, cousin, coworker, boss.  What about those freaky pictures you took together huh bruh?  You think that's the first time she did that with a dude?  Nah, of course not!  You're the first!  So do you really know?  Apparently it's probably better if you didn't based on the comments in that forum because your egos couldn't handle it.  Maybe you don't care?  Ding, ding, ding!  Exactly!  You're just worried about what she does with you to make it easier on YOURSELF and your state of mind.  Yeah, I know and I do understand.  This blog could all be fact.  It could all be fiction.  It could be part fact, part fiction.  Shock value.  Embellished.  I could be talking about one dude or ten dudes here.  It's funny...all very funny.  Eat it up.  If I talk about small dick or a wide boodie or a big gut that is no diff than a dude saying they like a 'redbone' or big boobs or a big azz or a big girl or a skinny chick.  But I'm wrong  for saying what I say?  Liking what I like?  Whew.  Hilarious.  Age and life experience will change that mentality both men and women.  Hold your applause please.  I know what I said was friggin' great! 

(takes bow)

I also look at this way, I guess what I wrote was interesting enough to get posted on another forum for commentary so I'll take that as a COMPLIMENT!!!   That explains why I got so many hits on the blog the weekend after Thanksgiving.  It was crazeeee.  They were quoting me and obviously read a few tidbits so that's aiight with me.  No new followers but that's aiight.  I'm still feelin' groovy and brave - so brave that I will share the forum ABOUT ME with the few folks that trip by here. 

 (ahh I removed the link when the year started...moving on)

"And my attitude's so chill and so breezy.
In my designer suit own little way I make this look easy.
Sexy baby, don't you dare act like you don't see feel me.
Baby I know you see feel me."


Ok so one of the posters CAME BACK and sent me a really nice, heartfelt response  (see below).  Hi Don of All Dons from projectcovo!!!!   He wrote, "She found out we were talking about her!"

I'm a savvy hoe aren't I?

Then he reposted my blog on the forum this morning.  I guess he wants to keep this going?  Why I don't know.  I guess it will be more of the same type of 'ish'.  This is my blog and I can talk about what I want.  Like it; love it; hate it.  I can't control how anyone feels.
I mean really.

(throws hands up)

Wooooww!  This is getting interesting.  Mad people coming over here from there today.  Anyway.   I have other posts to make so this one is gonna have to take a backseat.  Got a prop to get some cunnilingus before I go bartend tonight.  Hmmm...still deciding if I'll take him up on that offer.  Don't think I'll be able to squeeze that in because I have to meet someone about renting a new space to reopen my business.  But if I do make it over there, I might even write about it on this damn blog.  Or I might not. We shall see.

"My neck,
my back,
my 'uh' ,
yeah like that.
Lick it now,
Lick it good..."

This gets no more energy from me.  Keep reading.  Keep criticizing.  Pick excerpts and repost it all you want.  You only know what I write here and the way I write it.  Thanks for all the new traffic to the blog suga.  That will be my positive position on alla this.


Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Day #439: How Do They Know??

*sucking teeth*

Just when I was about to cross into the "Land Of I Don't Give A F*ck About You No Mo''",

Pretty Brown sends me some texts:

"I miss you soooo much" (with about six Os in the word "so")
"I think about you all the time"
"I know I shouldn't be texting you but..."
"I truly miss you"
"I should have called..."


I was there. I was right there. I had traveled the yellow brick road and passed the City of Sadness, The Borough of Regret, and strolled down streets like "You're A Dumb Ass Way" and "You Got Played Boulevard." But I was making a serious breakthrough.  The cloud had lifted. 

I was just about to click my heels, make my wish, and lay his azz to rest.


But then...he appeared.  

Messing with my head all over again.

(Stop looking at me like that Billy Pretty Brown!!!)

DAMN!!! (oh I already said that)


(If I write the whole word I'll have all types of freaky muthafuccas hittin' this blog.  More than I already do.  They already come here enough from Googling 'ass' and 'blow job' as it is.)

Just when you are on the brink of getting over somebody, how do they know when the precise moment is to come sliding back?  It really is a phenomenon.

I told the therapist about it two days later. She’s funny. She said that men seem to sense when you’re about to be over their azzes, and they know exactly when to call or text. She said it’s like a three or four week thing, because by that time they figure if you were mad you probably won’t be anymore.

"They just know", she said.

Like they know when to stop calling after they figure out you diggin’ them.

Like they know when to start acking up when it’s close to your birthday or a holiday.

Like they know to keep you on a text only basis because it’s easy to control shyt that way.
Like they know how to get out of your crib after sexing you with some crazy story about they momma need cornmeal to fry her fish and she ain't got no one to get it for her.

They just know.

Anyway it’s just words.  Words.  Words. 

Words with no actions behind them.
And I ain’t falling for that shyt again.

I like him, but I like myself more.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Catching Fish & "Just Because Your Face Is Wet..."


Just finished watching some porn while using the toy again.  Now it's time to write a lil something I guess cuz a sista is feelin' kinda relaxed.  I really need to get a new toy though.  The paint is coming off of this one. 

It's been an interesting week.  I bartended the other night and I wore these studded black leggings to work in. 

Something like these with a different design.  I'm telling you, get a pair of these joints and men will be buzzing around you like monkeys.
I swear these leggings had superpowers because dudes was coming at me left and right and it was crazy.  The studs on them were like little men magnets.  Short ones, toothless ones, chocolate ones, yellow ones.  Old ones, young ones - from 26 to 66.  And I was jugglin' all of them muthafuccas like a pro too.  I had one dude texting me, and one on each end of the bar trying to holla.  Grandpa told me he loved me on his way out.  Toothless was smiling at me like he thought he had a chance.  Yeah right.  Plus I was mixing drinks and singing karaoke along with the customers.  I was handling my bizness!

I even remembered some names this time:

Snaggle Tooth (didn't get his name)
Fred Sanford
Chris the Clown

I was like damn.  Those leggings I wore was catching a lot of fish that night, and that would have been cool if I had come there for that purpose.  I wanted tips, not fish.  Especially not fish that look like they work at the warehouse or car wash. 


They are like vultures sometimes.  No muthafucca you can't call me.  No I don't wanna go out.  No I don't want any breakfast at 1:30 in the morning.  Some new shoes?  Now you're talking.  But thank you for the compliments...yawn.  Some of them get it, and some of them don't.  I just go ahead and smile and act flattered by the bullshyt they spit anyway.  I gotta be nice.  But by the end of the night, all of those fish I had thrown back in the water.  Puhleeze.  Don't you know I just want your money you dumb azzes?  I have an idea though.  Sometimes dudes ask me if I want a drink and I say no.  And believe me I turn down a lot of drinks.  But next time...I'm gonna say yes and just take the money for myself. 

"Keep your drink just gimme the money,
It's you and your hand tonight!"

One of those fish, Mr. Cornrows, has been trying to holla for a while though.  He ain't bad looking but his cornrows are like an electric damn force field to me.   I ain't coming near you with that hairdo sir.  How are you 39 years old and wearing cornrows and Jay Z t-shirt.  WTF?   I don't think I have EVER dated anyone with cornrows in my life, and I don't plan to start now.  Even Ludacris and Jaheim cut their damn hair at some point.  Come on son.  That cornrow shyt is played once you get a certain age.

I gotta admit tough, my booty was looking pretty good in those leggings if I do say so myself.  And I usually don't brag on myself but I am today.  Doing squats is like money honey!  When I get out of the shower sometimes I turn and look and admire it.  No cellulite, no dimples, or marks.  I hit that gym five days a week and in the azz department it's definitely paying off. 
Went to a comedy show in the hood the next day, and I heard the funniest shyt from the sistas that performed:"

"Just because your face is wet don't mean that you're doing a good job."

Amen to that!  She said when eating coochie, the fellas should think of how cats lick their water.  They just stay in the same spot and lick and suck fast.   Just keep yo' face in the same spot, and make sure that tongue doesn't move.  No need to go all around the coochie and get your face wet for no damn reason.  IT DOES NOTHING!  Stay near the top and you'll be just fine. 

"If you like the way I suck your d*ck that's cool, but don't be bragging on me to your friends about that shyt.  Brag about that pound cake I baked last week dammit.

I know that's right. Even though I took a blow job class a few months ago, I don't wanna be KNOWN for d*ck sucking.  I was sitting at the table and it seemed like everyone was laughing except for one of my girlfriends.  Haha.  I remember her saying once, "I told that nigga that I don't suck d*ck but we all know that's a fuggin lie!"  And she was high fiving her girls like she was proud of her d*ck sucking rep or something?  But she was quiet as hell after the comedian said that shyt.  Mighty quiet.   

Then this dude comes up and says,

"If you have a hairy p*ssy in 2010 you need to be kicked in yo' azz!"

And he repeated that like three times. 

'If you still have a hairy p*ssy in 2010 you need to be kicked in yo' azz!" 

My friend hollered, "Men too!  Men too!"  I laughed nervously, and then I asked myself, "Is my coochie too hairy?"  The next day I looked in the mirror and checked it out.  I guess it could use a little trim.  LOL.  I'll handle that this weekend.  I got a coupon for a free Brazillan wax so I might try that.  I think some guys like hairy coochies though...
Married dude called me, but I didn't answer.  I'm proud of myself too.  I'm not here for your entertainment mothafucca, because you sure aren't entertaining me.  My man cums in like 30 seconds or less.  No lie.  Of course I would like to think my coochie is so wonderful that a man would come in less than a minute, and although I have been told before that it's pretty good, I don't think it's THAT damn good that a man would squeeze off quicker than a cat could run across the street.  Isn't that ridiculous?  So I'm just gonna keep watching my porn and playing with my toy a few times a day.  I was thinking about taking the toy and try using it when I drive.  Only at a red light though.  That'll be one helluva show for my fellow drivers now wouldn't it??? 

"Nasty girl,
Nasty girl,
Do you think I'm a nasty girl?"

Yes.  I.  am.
And can I say that I feel like I won a Blogger Oscar Award cuz NC17 over at Black Girls Are Easy put me on his blog roll!  He has the hottest blog and has mad followers so a sista was beaming when she saw that today.  I'm definitely honored.  Thank ya NC17!  That made a sista smile...

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Day #428: My Love Is Too Magic... have thrown back on my face.
It's been a few weeks and I think I just might be checking out of this emotional rehab pretty soon.  Yay!!!  Been reading some powerful shyt from the play For Colored Girls (not the movie - the play), and it's actually helping me with my withdrawal.

"My love is too beautiful to have thrown back on my face."
He was a drug.  Morphine.  Oxycontin.  Each pelvic thrust he gave me was an injection of confusion mixed with desire into my body.  His sweet words of "us" and "our future" had me skipping through poppy fields. 

I was high on Pretty Brown.  So very high. 

My nose was open like Mario (that's a "Khaki-ism").  I was on Cloud Nine, with the operative word being "I".  I thought he was on Cloud Nine with me, but his azz jumped off when I wasn't looking.  I was there alone, and on my birthday that cloud disappeared right from under me.  I came crashing down with my arms and legs flailing in wild confusion.

"You took me riding in a rocket and gave me a star,
But a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back into this cold, cold world."

Silly me.  But oddly this past Thanksgiving I gave thanks for meeting him.  I was thankful for feeling soooo good about a man, and that I thought that I met somebody so fine, so funny, so smart.  So I'll take it for what it was - even if it was for only fifteen minutes.  I won't be angry or bitter about it.  What the fluck for?  Even if he set me up with alla that sweet talk, I'm not gonna be mad this time.

So I did some house cleaning:

His number. Deleted.
His text messages.  Deleted.
His d*ck pic.  Deleted. (why was that so hard to do?)
His email address.  Blocked.
His business card with his smiling pic on it.  Burned. 

Now if I could just delete him from my mind I would be straight!  In time.  Next time you can't let these dudes get in your head so fast chick.

"My love is too Saturday Nite to have thrown back on my face."
Today is Saturday.  Been watching porn just so I can get another image of d*ck in my head instead of his.  Using my toy and dildo like three times a day (or more) to release any pent up sexual tensions.  I watched some porn while using the toy this morning.  OMG.  I told myself that I have hit rock bottom.  Giggle.  It ain't no biggie though.  Men brag about beating off all the time so why can't I?  It's better than having some fool over here wasting my time.  Last week I had THE WORST sex with this guy so I'm steering clear of niccas this holiday.  Not even answering the phone when they call.  F*ck alla y'all. 

Soooo tomorrow I'm gonna get my toes done and then maybe get a tattoo.  My first one!  Should I get the words "Sexy MF" on my lower back?  A black cat?  A cute cat?  A scorpion?  A butterfly?  Still thinking.  I will feel like such a bad azz when I get it!!!  The pain I expect from the tattoo might just clear my head. 

"My love is too complicated to have thrown back on my face."

I see the therapist Monday.  Debating whether or not I should mention about this guy or the married guy.   That married guy is done.  Over, over, over.  We have zero connection and his sex rates a solid minus 2.  Hell his fingers felt better and I give those a 7.  That's pretty bad when your fingers do a better job than your d*ck.

Anyway, I'll be cool.  I have a great love to give and it's his loss.  One day God will send me someone to give my love to (hopefully).  But in the and love goes on. 

And that's OFFICIALLY the last post I'm making about Pretty Brown.

Chuck-chuckin' up them deuces!

Oops that doesn't mean deuces....

My bad.

Friday, November 19, 2010

You So Nasty!

Someone hit up my site Googling this question:

"what does a woman asshole taste like."

All kinds of shyt popped in my head when I read this one.

Comment if you dare!

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Day #418: Ten Confessions

When I woke up this morning I was actually feeling allright.  I am supposed to be going to pitch my business to a developer tonight and then I was gonna hit up karaoke at the bar after that.  I was feeling pretty good and woke up ready to hustle.

But when I got to work I just felt sick in my stomach.  I felt lost and confused. 

I feel like I'm keeping a secret and I think I just need to confess to it.

I feel like I wanna die. 

Last week I imagined that I drove to the George Washington Bridge and jumped from it.  Sometimes I sit in my running car in the garage and think about closing the door.  Sometimes I stand at the subway platform and imagine stepping in front of the train.  On my birthday I stood in my room in the dark and just kept repeating over and over how sad I was that day.  Over and over and over.  Sad because that man didn't call me to say happy birthday.  So stupid of me.

"Take a good look at my face,
You see my smile looks out of place,
Come a bit closer it's easy to trace,
The tracks of my tears."

People ask me how was my birthday and I just lie and change the subject.  I hadn't felt that way in a long time and it sucked azz.  I went to bartend and wore the sexiest dress just to get some attention.  And when I got it all I did was blow them off.

Sometimes I hate being me.  I think the REAL reason that I don't have kids because I don't want anyone to look like me.  If my kid can't be guaranteed to be beautiful or handsome then why make it hard on them and bring them here?  I have been pregnant four times.  One I miscarried, the other three were _____________.  I know I might get roasted for revealing that.  Oh well.

If I had a baby then I would have a reason to stay here I guess?  I probably would never go thru with the thoughts that I have sometimes.  If I tell the therapist then she might have me sent to the hospital.  You have to be careful what you tell them.  I mentioned something once and she said to call her if I ever felt like doing something though.  I think she senses that I get very sad sometimes.

So today I have decided to confess to a few things, in the hopes of feeling liberated in some sort of way. 

  1. I had sex with a married man.  Why?  Who the f*ck knows.  He had a smelly d*ck anyway.
  2. I have had sex with guys who had girlfriends.
  3. I feel suicidal sometimes.
  4. I feel like I don't want to see my family as much.
  5. I stare at other women.  Not like I want them, but if they are pretty I stare at them.  I guess I am thinking about how easy she has it or how the dudes love her because she has those boobs or that azz or that face or hair. 
  6. When I see a man or a group of men standing on the street; I cross the street.  It's silly and I know this, but I do this to protect myself.  If they don't speak then I won't be thinking, "Why they didn't speak to me?  I'm not good looking enough?"  But if they do speak, I get uncomfortable and kinda don't believe they are being sincere.  So to avoid those thoughts altogether...I just cross the street.  Sometimes I suck it up and just do it and pass them and not cross the street.  But the real question is why do I even care about these fools and them speaking in the first place?!!!!!   
  7. I avoid eye contact with men.  I don't look at them in the face very often.   Eyes are windows to the soul and I don't want them to get a sense of mine I guess.
  8. I don't remember guys names very well even after screwing them.  I'll ask to see their driver's license as a joke or something days later when in reality I am really trying to find out what their name is.  I do that A LOT.
  9. I don't take compliments well at all.  People were mean to me when I was little girl and in my first year in high school.  In Chicago, light skinned chicks with long hair got all the attention at my high school it seemed.  I had such a bad complex.  Really bad.  I used to sit on the bus with my face hidden in my coat because I didn't want people to look at me.  Kids used to make jokes about my full lips and hair.  Now my post about 'whipping out my hair' makes more sense right?  So now when people compliment me it's hard to believe them.  I guess when I got older things started to look better, because when I went to my high school reunion all these great things were said.  Now full lips are in style I guess?  Who the f*ck knows.  But still, I never really got over all of that stuff ya know. 
  10. Finally, I think I will be by myself forever.  An Old Maid like my tired looking cousin Delores  (sorry but it's true).  Love is something you hear about in songs and watch in movies.  It seems like a fantasy - like winning the lottery.  It's like it's a million to one chance that you will ever truly find it.
I know this is a somber post and I am not looking for sympathy or 'be strong' responses (if I get any responses lol).  Don't need anyone to diagnose me because I have a therapist for that!  I'm on it.  Someone might even use what I wrote against me to make me feel worse than I already do (it happened before on this blog).  But I just feel weird today.  Yeah the dude triggered some of it, but this life is just getting to me.  I gotta keep asking myself why am I here?  Would it matter if I wasn't? 

Aiight...back to work.  The air is clear.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Finally Swallowing This Pill

From my phone:

Beautiful day. Too bad I have to swallow this pill. The pill called realization.

He ain't too busy. He just ain't into me. Too stupid to see that. Or I saw it and kept looking away.

Eight hours later...

Why am I feeling uh, liberated?

Because I'm too old for this mind trip bullshyt with men that's why. Heading in this bar to make this money from these fools. Nobody better f@ck with me tonight I know that much!

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Day #401: Birthday Eve

Damn is it November again already?  My birthday is tomorrow. 

It's been hard for me to think about what to blog about because my mind has been distracted.  I have been buying tons of shoes and wigs off the internet and it's not making any sense.  And then I put on the shoes and they are hurting and giving me blisters and shyt after I just fixed my damn toes last April!  Hate that about new shoes.  I told the therapist about it the other day, and I think she wanted to laugh when I told her that I was buying all of these damn wigs.  I think she was waiting for me to laugh, but I didn't so she didn't.  LOL.  Then she told me that I have been thru a lot over the past few years (roommate shyt, landlord shyt, business shyt, lawyer shyt, bankruptcy shyt, dude farting in my cube shyt) and that this shopping thing might be some sort of release for me. 

And then he said the "L" word...

Pretty Brown got my head all f*ckd up now.  Yeah I know, I know. I said I dropped him about two weeks ago.  But that only lasted about six days.  He is still all over the place and not really available, but his words have me caught up.  And then he said the "L" word again.  Yep he did.  Usually I cringe when a dude tells me that, but not this time.  Do I believe him?  Maybe.  Actions speak louder than words.  I didn't say it back though - well I kinda didn't say it back.  This madness with his schedule is an issue that is not going away, and I don't care how sugary sweet his words are.  I must really like him though cuz I'm even thinking about letting him see my real hair this weekend (after I flat iron out all of the curly fries of course).  That's a big step if I'm thinking about a nucca seeing my REAL hair.  Should I tell him that?  LOL.  Nah.

In other news...
  • Farts and Boogers finally got fired last week.  Fresh air is finally back in my cubicle unless I sit here and fart myself.  (wink)
  • That side d*ck that I got last week was not good at all.  When he was done he went into the bathroom and I hurried up and pulled out my toy to finish the job.  In less than two minutes I was good.  I was trying to be quiet but he heard me!  "Are you allright?".  "Um,  yeah.  Just trying to get myself off real quick."  Yep, I was real about it.  I saw his speechless silhouette standing in the doorway, and then I turned over and snuggled up to my pillow smiling.  I should have just done that in the first place anyways.  Skrait up.
  • I wore three different wigs in the same week.  That's a personal record - and also a sign of shameless vanity.  I guess my inner "Regine from Living Single" has been coming out lately.  But it's kinda cool to be long and silky on Monday and short and sassy on Saturday.  It's like I'm a different girl and I figure dudes would like that.  I remember I had this blue Lil' Kim style wig back in the 90s and this boyfriend I had always would ask me to put it on during sex.  He loved seeing me in that thing.  Maybe he was imaging I was Lil' Kim?  Hmmm...never thought about until now.

  • I'm really starting to have an issue with Asian chicks too.  Well maybe not an 'issue' but I have taken more notice to them, that's for sure.  Ever since Hot Chocolate told me he didn't want a Black girl and only wanted an Asian chick I have been BURNT UP about the subject.  I find myself looking at them on the street and wondering why the f*ck guys think these chicks are so much better.  It's like you hardly ever see them with another Asian guy to be honest.  Think about it.  It's always some 'other' race that they are always with.  I'll save my rant on that issue for another post.  Not gonna get into it right now.

  • I have to decide what I am going to do about reopening my business.  I am giving myself a deadline of May 2011.  The hold up is money though.  I need serious paper to get that up and running again.

  • I think I'm gonna volunteer at a funeral home to see if I want to go to morturary school next summer.  I have been trying hard to think of a recession proof business, and hallelujah I think I have found it!  A friend hooked me up with a guy whose uncle owns a funeral home (the guy sounded sexy as hell on the phone too).  Anyway, I am gonna give him a call today and see what he will let me do at the funeral home.  Let's hope I can get the chance to observe how the business runs and to see if it is for me.  I hope I have the tolerance for it!  If I do that just might be my next endeavor.  Shyt we all have to die - bad economy or not.  I mean seriously, how many funeral homes close for lack of business.  Not many I bet.

  • Made the mistake and gave this chump my number about three weeks ago.  Called me and I didn't remember who he was and I thought he was an old friend from years ago to be honest.  Then all of a sudden, he starts masturbating on the phone!  No lie.  Breathing all heavy and everything.  I just humored him at first but after the third time he called I realized that it was NOT my old friend after all!  Dayum! I immediately shut him down.  I know.  I should have done that to begin with whether he was a friend or not.  Sigh.  I'm a little off sometimes myself.

So back to the birthday for now.  It's about nine hours away.  Gonna be bartending tonight so maybe the folks in the bar will sing a song to me at midnight??  We'll see how many of these fools who swore they were gonna take me out or get me something for my bday actually come thru.  But on second thought, I hope they don't come through.   I just want them to prove themselves to be the lames that I already suspect them to be.  It will make my job at lot easier.

And so the countdown begins...

T-minus 8 hours...

Friday, October 29, 2010


I think I have a little problem. 

I have no self control.

Last night I stop by the bar to hang out and watch the female bartenders.  I watch so I can get some tips on how to do my Coyote Ugly bartending thang.  They dress sooo sexy but I think I might be too old to be wearing booty shorts like they do.  I need a push up or water bra in the worst way though.  My boobs are looking more like Josephine Baker's every day and I am not digging that one bit.

When I go to these bars I usually go by myself, and after some time someone will end up talking to me.  Male or female.  Not like I stand there waiting for someone to talk to me, but they just do.

So I talked to one guy for a little while.  Then the bartender asks him if he wanted a drink and he said yes.  But did he ask me if I wanted one?  No!  So that convo that had been going on for about 15 minutes was over.  Totally lost interest in what he was saying and he could see that.  "Oh let me see where my friends are at." 

"Yeah you do that." 

Lame.  Next.

Then I move away from the bar and just stand near the dance floor to try to look at what kind of fellas are in there.  Lots of suits.  Lots of collared shirts!  Dudes look they have jobs - and nice jobs at that.  The crowd was grooving.  The music was humming.  One guy says something and then another.  I start talking to one of them.  We dance.  He catches sight of my sexy pantyhose.  He dances closer to me.  He presses himself against me.  I can feel it.  He walks me to the subway.  Then...

I think I have a problem.  Not sure how to bring it up to the therapist.  I don't even remember his name.

Now I am wondering if I should go to this masquerade party alone.  I called Mr. Porno and told him that I need some rebound sex to forget about the guy I was digging.  Of course he will oblige me he says.

Maybe I have a problem.  Maybe I don't.  Hell I'm single with no real man so what's wrong here?

I say nothing.

It's Halloween and I don't need a costume. 


Because I feel a monster growing inside of me.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Day #387: It's Over

I knew it would get messed up.

It's over before it even started.

He's too busy.  Everyday.  All day.  Seven days.  I can't compete with that.

We were reduced to a text relationship.  Like a fellow blogger said, I signed a Dick Contract and I wasn't diggin' the result.  Everything was on his terms. 

I was fallin for him.  And because of that I told him that I had to stay away from him.

I wanted to reduce him to a 'screw only' status but he was in my head too much for that.  It wouldn't have worked.  It was getting to the point that if that nucca even blew on me I would melt.  It was getting out of control.

So...that's that.  I said goodbye at 3:30am this morning.  Via text. 

Did I make a mistake?  I dunno. 

Did I not give him enough time to try to change up things?  I dunno.

All I know is that I saw that UNHAPPY TRAIN coming into my station and I didn't want to get on it again.

Funny thing is, I'm still unhappy though.  So what difference did it make?

Did I make a mistake?

Only Mr. Cornrows is on the table.  That hair would probably scratch up my coochie and thighs if I let him do that cunnilingus (sp?) thang.  Anyway I don't think I'm game for looking down and seeing cornrows between my legs right now. I don't think he can spell good either.  Plus he is someone from the bar I work at and my co-worker told me point blank, "Gurl, DO NOT F*CK ANYBODY THAT COMES IN THIS BAR."  I think she may be right. 

My birthday is coming.  (rolling eyes)  Misery.

Won some tickets to a Halloween party in NYC off the radio.  Yep, I know my old school tunes and was the first to guess!  80s themed party.  I think I'm going as Salt from Salt and Pepa.  Maybe Jody Watley?  I think I'm gonna go alone though.  I'll have more fun that way.  I'll probably just sell the extra ticket that I won when I get there. 

I miss him though. 

Did I make a mistake? 

I feel remorse.  I feel sad.  I feel dumb. 
I feel like saying, "It was nice while it lasted." 
I feel like saying, "You played ya self.  Never upgrade a fella beyond d*ck status until he has proven himself to you.  When will you ever learn?"

I don't know what else to do but stay away from him.

It's raining and dreary in NYC today.  How ironic.

Friday, October 22, 2010


Random thoughts.  I was sitting here thinking that I need to get a fresh wig this weekend.

Then I realized something...

I will show a dude the hair on my coochie before I show him the real hair on my damn head! 

He can get all close up and personal down there but when it comes to my head --- ain't no way he gonna see my real damn hair until I get to know him first. 

Dude:  "Why you always wearing that scarf? Let me see your real hair."

Me:  "Nuh uh.  You don't EVEN know me like that and we ain't even serious!  Who do YOU think you are asking me that?  You gettin' way too personal."

But we both laying on the bed naked.

LOL.  Ain't that a trip?

Even if my coochie hair needs a little trimming, I still won't hide it.  If he wanna look; I'll let him look.  Put yo' face right there, baby.

But let my scarf start to come off during sex and everything stops.  I start pulling, yanking, and adjusting like a crazy woman.  "Wait, wait!  Let me fix my scarf!"

WTF.  My belief is that we gotta build sumthin for MONTHS before I let you see the hair on my head --- but not for my coochie? 

I'm not bald or anything so what's my problem? My hair comes to below my ears when I press it out, but on a regular day I'm really an Undercover Celie with those little cornrows and/or braids all around.  And on top of that it's frizzy cuz I don't have a perm.  I call it an AF-RAID sometimes.  It becomes an afro and braid combo if I let it go too long without rebraiding it. 

Shyt, I don't even like looking at it my damn self sometimes.  I just sit that wig on it and I'm out.  LOL.

Jheri Curl in the movie Hollywood Shuffle

Yeah Jheri Curl, I know EXACTLY how you feel.  If my wig or scarf ever came off during sex this is EXACTLY the expression that I would have on my face.  And my hand would be scretched out like that too.  "I'm still the same girl baby!  You still like me right?  Don't leave me! Don't leave meeeeeee!"


(talkin' to myself)

"That's a hell of a complex you got there." 
Wooooow.  But dudes don't even care though most times.  They don't press you about seeing your real hair.  Fake hair is just accepted nowadays.


I gotta think on this some more and come back to it. 


AND SORRY MEADOW, WILLOW, SASSAFRASS OR WHATEVER YO' NAME IS...I DO NOT WHIP MY 'REAL' HAIR FOR DAMN NOBODY OUT OF THE GATE.  Cuz please believe if I do for a man, we betta be in some heavy rotation on the relationship front.  Word up.

I Almost Did It...

His d*ck was right there in my face.  But I didn't do it although I was tempted.  Real tempted.  My hand was on it.  I was stroking it.  Looking at it.  Imagining it.

But I told him to get off me.

Then he asked me, "Who you trying to be all nice girl for now?"


I'm being good for Mister.

But Mister is too f*ckin' busy.  I posted that I wasn't sure about his azz when he told me he worked a few jobs.  That was a red flag that I was hoping would not be a problem but it has been a REALLY BIG PROBLEM and now I'm getting annoyed.  So when this throwback d*ck showed up at my place I was contemplating getting some of it to break this spell Mister has over me.

Then I thought.  I could jinx myself.  I could jinx us.  If I f*ck him then I'll put that negative shyt in the universe and then maybe me and Mister will be doomed.

So I decided to pass on it.  I got me a new purse though cuz when he came over he brought me a gift.  So it wasn't a total loss.  LOL. 

There was also something else too.  The throwback d*ck didn't look that good to me for some reason.  I wasn't excited about it and it didn't look as thick and juicy as it used to look back in our kickin' it days.  Did it get smaller?  Does that happen to dudes as they get older?  I gotta check into that.  I thank the lawd though because if it was looking nice no tellin' what I would have done.

As for Mister though...he is walking on thin ice.  He's just too busy.  Weekends.  Weekdays.  He's gonna lose me if he doesn't show and prove.  I went on another date just to keep my options open.  He seemed nice but his hair was bothering me.  Who the f*ck still wears cornrows after age 35?  And his feet looked so tiny in those Tims he had on. Sigh.    He saw me bartending and I had these licorice-looking leggings on and he was getting all hot and bothered (according to his texts to me), so I think I got him where I want him.  If we go out again I'll try to touch it to see wassup.  I'll take him to the mall and wait until I pick something out and then do it.  Maybe I'll get some free shyt. 


Monday, October 4, 2010

Is Your D*ck *THAT* Big????

From my phone:

9:35pm.  Sitting on bus. Heading home from the city after just having the BEST KISSING session with my new sweetie.  Back against the wall.  Kissing under the umbrella in the rain as the rest of NYC passed us by.  Whew.  I had no panties on with a dress so I had to stand up on the subway to the bus station cuz...uh, the kitty was a bit moist.  :) I'm telling you, the shyt was that hot.

I'm fanning myself just thinking about it! 

Ahem.  Ok, um back to the bus ride.

So I get on bus and there is one last seat next to a brutha; a rare sight on my bus route back to Ecuador/my town. 

"Excuse me." 

First I had to ask him to move his damn bag so I could sit down.  That's a bad sign right there cuz the bus was crowded and no one asked him to move his stuff.  This was the last seat.


Now I have been sitting here all of about three minutes, and lawd I feel that I am about to lose it in about 30 seconds with this fool. 

Why?  Because I totally hate when guys sit with their legs wide open like their d@ck is so muthafuckin big that they can't close their legs! I hate that shyt for real.  Here I am sitting with his thigh touching mine, his foot touching mine, and his arm touching mine.  And he is just busy pounding away on his Iphone playing some damn game.  YOU'RE. TOUCHING. ME!!!!  Every second I'm hating you more with your big Charlie Brown headed self.  I wanna smack you. 


I swear...I'm like 15 seconds from telling him about his azz. He is just all up in my personal space and ruining my high from lip locking.

Damn you arrogant bastard!!!






10 seconds.

Good.  Someone just got up so I'm moving.  Consider yourself lucky muthafucca.  I hope u lose that f*ckin game you playin'.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Day #359: Still Farting

A few weeks ago I blogged that my co-worker comes to my desk to tell me these random stories and then farts and leaves.

He just did it again.  Just now.  This time he was asking me some crazy shyt about Deniece Williams and Diana Ross, then right before he ends the story he farts.  And walks away.

I noticed that now he brings up Black movies and entertainers to me because once he asked me about a movie and I asked,

"Was there any Black people in it?"


"Well I didn't see it then."

That was the end of the conversation.
I thought that would get him to stop bringing his azz to my desk, but nope.  I guess he thought about it and since then he tries to tailor his stories to his audience (me) and only talks about shows and music with Black people in it.  Unbelievable.

(in my fake British accent)

"He's quite odd.  Quite odd I tell you."

I know in the last blog I said that I was gonna tell him about his farting, but I found out that he's getting fired in the next week or so.  Yeah, he weirded everyone out and he's getting the ax.  Maybe he messed up and farted in the wrong cube.  LOL.

So now that I know this, I can't get myself to tell him about this farting shyt.  I guess I feel sorry for him????


I shoulda did it before I found this out. 

Well I guess the good thing is that I don't have to deal with the farting and him digging in his nose for too much longer.

That's a crazy thing that this is something to be looking forward to ---- your co-worker getting fired so he can stop farting at your desk.

Wow.  That's some wild shyt right thurr.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Seven Pairs of Shoes...

...and I still got this dude on my mind.  Every pair I tried on I imagined him looking at them with me.  So much for that strategy.

I used my tip money from the hell hole open bar that I worked last Saturday to buy those shoes, so before someone says "I thought you went bankrupt", that's what I did with half of my tips.  I save half and I spend half.  I'll probably take some back though.  I do that a lot; buy shyt then return it after I bring all my things back to the Honeycomb Hideout.  I tell myself I need a damn house and put it all back in the bags.
Well I put some of it back in the bags.  :)

The purpose of the shoes was to distract me from him but I still thought of his azz when I tried them all on?  So much for that.
He came by here yesterday.  When I met him on the street and I saw him from a distance, it was like the world had disappeared. 

It was just me and him there.  No sound.  No people.  Just him smiling at me.  AT ME!

But on the real though....

I never manage to keep the dudes I really like.  I worked tonight bartending and this customer told me she worked hard to keep her man. 

I had to ask how do you do that?  How do you work hard to keep someone around?  To make them love you?  Does that even work? 

I'll make confession at 2:49am in the morning.  I'm so tired but my feet are throbbing from being on them all night bartending so I can't sleep right now.  So why not blog and make a confession really quick while I wait for this Advil to kick in. 

My confession is this:

I don't know how to love anybody.

I repeat.  I don't know how to love anybody. 

I still take numbers and flirt, especially now since I'm bartending and I'm trying to get my tips.  I still go out with guys and even screw them sometimes when I am supposed to be liking ONE person.  At least that's what I have done in the past (not since I met this guy I haven't considered anyone else yet).  I'm not big on that one man thing I guess.  I don't have a lot of discipline it seems.  But I do like this guy.  If he knew me, he would know that to keep me he betta be in my face a lot otherwise....I dunno.  :(

So there.

I said it.

I don't know how to love least not the right way.

That's my confession.  So now what?

(tapping fingers quickly on the desk)

I'll be positive.  I guess the person that I really doubt is myself? 
At least in this case.  And I don't write that for sympathy or to be criticized!  I write that because I THINK that is what I believe is the truth right now. 

Time will tell though.

Teach me how to love

Show me the way to surrender my heart, boy I'm so lost
Teach me how to love
How I can get my emotions involved
Teach me, show me how to love
Show me the way to surrender my heart, boy I'm lost

Teach me how to love

How I can get my emotions involved
Teach me, how to love