This will be short and quick.
No good can come from this. I am having way too much fun with My Obsession. Therefore, I know no good can come from this.
I know it. I can feel it all in my nether regions. *chuckle* I don't know who is going to fuk it up, me or him. But I know I can't possibly keep having this much fun.
If it's me...man oh man...I am gonna need prescription meds. But if its him...? *shrug* I am a lot more forgiving of other people than I am myself.
*sigh*
Anyway, he is probably out of my league. Yeah, I know its sour grapes but thats how you make yourself feel better about missing out on good things. Right?
^^^^Sounds like I watched way too many afterschool specials. So glad they won't be punishing future generations with them.
I'm done for the moment.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
5...4...3...2...1...MELTDOWN!
Ok. I’ve been stalked. Twice.
First time was my neighbor at my last apartment. I moved and got a new job. Problem solved.
Second time, earlier this year. A guy who I actually thought I liked until he went weird on me. He finally left me alone.
They are both over. Ok. I should be over this now.
This should be easy. I should be over it by now. I am so resilient. I have bounced back from so much. I should be able to do this on my own. I thought I was over it. I really did. I mean, I go out at night. I don’t jump at shadows or strange sounds. I can be alone and not be afraid. I don't have the dreams where I know I am not safe no matter what I do anymore. I should be good now.
I got my blogs I lurk and one in particular there is a guy who I have struck up a cyberfriendship of sorts. For his privacy sake I'll just call him My Obsession. We have gotten rather comfy with each other and I thought I was feeling pretty safe at coming out of my self imposed prison.
But the moment I told myself I was ready to tell My Obsession my real name I got a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. That’s ok, I told myself. I walked around with it for a couple days and it went away. I felt stronger, like I was dealing with it. Like I was ok. I could do this. I can trust me again! And me says that My Obsession is a good guy and I can relax.
Then Saturday came and his emails with it. I read them and they warmed me and made me think up all manner of inappropriate responses. And I came up with a lovely one I think. But he didn’t get that one. I sent him something truly innocuous compared to what I typed below.
Suddenly, just the thought of sending this reply sent me into a panic attack. The litany in my head started. You’ve been here before, remember. Not once, chick, but TWICE! What do you want to bet that he’ll be a third? You know bad things come in threes. Do you really want to chance it? Again? Do you want to have to switch jobs, again? Move again? Start looking over your shoulder again? Stay holed up in your new place praying that you’ve shaken him again? Remember jumping when you saw a car that looked like his? Remember coming out of work to find him standing there waiting for you?
Remember all that? You wanna do that a third time? There’s just something wrong with you, chick, that attracts the wrong kind of men, now. So run from him. Go ahead. Just disappear. Its easy.
Yeah, incredibly easy. But I am a little braver than that. He knows a little of my history. Heck. How can I be honest with him about it when I can’t even bring myself to blog about it. I’ve only told a few friends and family. I thought I would blog about it all but every time I try I come up with something else to blog about.
I am strong. I was raised to be strong and independent. I don’t want to be weak. I don’t want anyone to perceive me as weak. I am holding it in and I guess holding onto it. Which isn’t good. I just thought, I was really healing.
I really like this guy. I think we might enjoy each others’ twists. The last thing I want is to dump a load of crazy on this guy. He doesn’t deserve it. I’ve had enough of it dumped on me to last me and him a lifetime. And I want to unload it! Just not onto anyone else.
So, I guess this means I need to get help.
Inhale. Hold it. Exhale.
That means asking for help. I don’t like doing that. It is the hardest thing in the world for me to do. I did it once. After my mother died. And still it took me a couple years to work up the nerve to ask for help.
Maybe...and this is a big MAYBE cuz I am putting a lot on a man that has no clue what’s going on in my head, but maybe if he stays true to who he seems to be it will give me the courage to ask for help.
Or maybe I should just woman up and pull that number out and make an appointment.
*rubbing my temples* Anyway, here’s what I wanted to send to him Saturday.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
5:30 am
I woke up cuz I had to pee. Its Saturday. Sleep late day. I don’t want to get up this freaking early! So, first I tried to convince myself I didn’t have to pee cuz if I got up then I would be up for the day and my bed felt so warm and comfy. If I just laid there and told myself I didn‘t have to pee then maybe I’d go back to sleep. It works sometimes.
5:52 am EST
It didn’t work. The sharp pain I got from my bladder made me think it had called me a bad name. More than a little annoyed at the bladder that was only doing its job I threw off the covers and made for the bathroom. I flipped on the light switch in the bathroom and the white light chased away the last of my warm sleepy feelings.
A little sulky over losing the argument with my bladder, I made my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I sat and sipped while I contemplated what I wanted to accomplish with my day. I made a list of errands I wanted to run. When I finished my water, I went back to bed and I hoped back to sleep.
I put on my headphones and listened to some music for a while. Next thing I knew it was after 7:00 am and I was still wide awake. Ugh! Mentally, I asked my bladder was it happy now? It remained stoically silent on the matter. Then what was I expecting. It is a bladder after all. So I gave up on sleep and I decided to get up and fix breakfast.
8:17 am EST
My home phone rang as I was finishing breakfast. As usual it wasn’t on the base. I followed the sound and found it lost in my bed covers. I checked the caller ID and cursed the early evil azzed telemarketers.
I threw the phone back on the bed, yawned and stretched before grabbing the cell and checking for drunken texts from friends. I smiled when I saw I had two texts.
First up was Betsy. She sent me a single word text : Gruml. Now what did that mean? She would hate me for replying so early. So, I gleefully hit the reply and send buttons. She never did answer me. *chuckle*
Second text was from Hotmail telling me I had an email from My Obsession! I opened my email, read his email and grinned a wicked grin I felt all the way down to my impish little toes. I stretched and yawned again before settling back in bed to compose a reply to match my grin...and fell asleep.
12:32 pm! EST
Again I woke up to the sound of my ringing phone. Damn it! Another telemarketer. I checked the time and couldn’t believe my day was being wasted sleeping! I spied my cell and remembered I was composing a wicked email to send to My Obsession when I fell asleep.
I checked the phone and my web browser awaited my action patiently. All manner of wickedness ran rampant through my mind. So, confident that I would come up with something really NSFW, I headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower. I caught the mischievous set of my mouth and glint in my eyes in the mirror as I finished brushing my teeth and stepped into the shower.
Steam rose up from the hot spray as I poured my favorite citrus and wild ginger gel and worked it up into a thick white foam. I thought about his last question as I made foamy circles over my skin. Who would be the woman he decided to have celebrate his end to his celibacy?
Warm butterflies fluttered happily from my stomach down below the bikini line *snort me in a bikini*. Still, I lathered my body and wished I could just grab my passport and go! Then, I sighed as I watched the lather rinsed down off my cinnamon chocolate skin. I wished I’d met him about 2 1/2 years ago when I trusted myself more and was freer.
Then I really thought about it. I was never that free, I still had a job to consider but I had such a great boss back then it would have been nothing to take 2 weeks and just go thoroughly explore My Obsession.
As I stepped from the shower my heated skin turned to goose pebbles as the chill air hit me. I had forgotten to turn on the heat. Again. It turned cold early this year. Then as is Momma Nay’s way when it comes to Maryland, Momma Nay can never quite make up her mind when the cold weather is here to stay. It can be 80 on Friday and 35 Saturday morning.
This Saturday was turning out to be chilly and gray.
I wrapped a thick white towel around me and went into my equally chill bedroom. As I rubbed vigorously at my cooling skin I longed for wishes to come true.
If they did I would wish away the last 30 months of my life.
I’d wish that when I stepped from my bedroom I would step into My Obsession’s home.
I’d find you sitting at a table. Your hands folded stiffly in front of you. The world around you a blur as I focused solely on you. You’d sit contemplating great and wonderful things as the scent of wild ginger and citrus enveloped you. I’d tiptoe close to you and ease into the chair behind you. As if it were the most natural thing in the world for me to be there, you’d scoot forward making room for me.
The towel would inch up my thighs as I got comfortable. My real name would be a question on your lips. You’d say it perfectly. Delightfully. Somehow, I knew it would sound absolutely beautiful coming from you.
I’d press closer in answer.
Your warmth would steal the chill from my skin. My toes would warm themselves against your sock covered ankles. My calves would rub themselves against your denim covered calves. My thighs would press against the warm fabric covering your thighs. My arms would encircle your waist and my fingers would find their way under your shirt to your warm skin.
There’d be a hitch in your breath as my cool fingertips roamed freely over your heated skin.
I’d rest my chin on your shoulder as I caught your ear teasingly betwixt my teeth. I’d taste my new treat with the tip of my tongue.
Yum!
My mind would be in a conundrum about whether to draw blood or not.
As if you could read my mind you’d turn your head pulling your ear free. That would be just fine. I’d have nothing but time. So instead I’d press my warm lips against your jaw and breathe you in.
*BIG SIGH*
But wishes don’t come true and the last 30 months still gnaw at my confidence. So I pulled on a pair of jeans, in honor of my yummy fantasy, and readied myself to run errands. I went to the kitchen to take something out of the freezer for dinner before heading out.
As I headed for the front door, the gray sky opened up and rained hard and coldly down on my day.
You should know, dear Obsession, I can be cold or I can be wet and still be unbothered. To be cold and wet at the same time when I don’t have to be? Ah...no. I quickly went over the errands I had to run and decided they could wait. A drizzle I could handle. A torrential downpour? Uh uh!
So, I went back to my bedroom. Took off my clothes and lay back and listened to the rain music and thought about you for awhile .
********************
That there was pretty PG13. Trust me, there’s more. *wicked giggle* Yes, I still giggle! Anyway, I was gonna describe the lingerie I put on and the towel does not survive this encounter. It gets torn to make restraints...sigh...and if you can’t guess where it goes from there then you aren’t old enough to be reading this post. *chuckle* Or you are a virgin who has been brought up in the basement of a convent and you really should head back to that basement and stay away from the internet, TV, strangers, the world outside your front door, and me. *hands on hips glaring sternly*
Mercy! He just sent me the most delicious email that I just want to run wild with! Geez Louise, if only!
First time was my neighbor at my last apartment. I moved and got a new job. Problem solved.
Second time, earlier this year. A guy who I actually thought I liked until he went weird on me. He finally left me alone.
They are both over. Ok. I should be over this now.
This should be easy. I should be over it by now. I am so resilient. I have bounced back from so much. I should be able to do this on my own. I thought I was over it. I really did. I mean, I go out at night. I don’t jump at shadows or strange sounds. I can be alone and not be afraid. I don't have the dreams where I know I am not safe no matter what I do anymore. I should be good now.
I got my blogs I lurk and one in particular there is a guy who I have struck up a cyberfriendship of sorts. For his privacy sake I'll just call him My Obsession. We have gotten rather comfy with each other and I thought I was feeling pretty safe at coming out of my self imposed prison.
But the moment I told myself I was ready to tell My Obsession my real name I got a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. That’s ok, I told myself. I walked around with it for a couple days and it went away. I felt stronger, like I was dealing with it. Like I was ok. I could do this. I can trust me again! And me says that My Obsession is a good guy and I can relax.
Then Saturday came and his emails with it. I read them and they warmed me and made me think up all manner of inappropriate responses. And I came up with a lovely one I think. But he didn’t get that one. I sent him something truly innocuous compared to what I typed below.
Suddenly, just the thought of sending this reply sent me into a panic attack. The litany in my head started. You’ve been here before, remember. Not once, chick, but TWICE! What do you want to bet that he’ll be a third? You know bad things come in threes. Do you really want to chance it? Again? Do you want to have to switch jobs, again? Move again? Start looking over your shoulder again? Stay holed up in your new place praying that you’ve shaken him again? Remember jumping when you saw a car that looked like his? Remember coming out of work to find him standing there waiting for you?
Remember all that? You wanna do that a third time? There’s just something wrong with you, chick, that attracts the wrong kind of men, now. So run from him. Go ahead. Just disappear. Its easy.
Yeah, incredibly easy. But I am a little braver than that. He knows a little of my history. Heck. How can I be honest with him about it when I can’t even bring myself to blog about it. I’ve only told a few friends and family. I thought I would blog about it all but every time I try I come up with something else to blog about.
I am strong. I was raised to be strong and independent. I don’t want to be weak. I don’t want anyone to perceive me as weak. I am holding it in and I guess holding onto it. Which isn’t good. I just thought, I was really healing.
I really like this guy. I think we might enjoy each others’ twists. The last thing I want is to dump a load of crazy on this guy. He doesn’t deserve it. I’ve had enough of it dumped on me to last me and him a lifetime. And I want to unload it! Just not onto anyone else.
So, I guess this means I need to get help.
Inhale. Hold it. Exhale.
That means asking for help. I don’t like doing that. It is the hardest thing in the world for me to do. I did it once. After my mother died. And still it took me a couple years to work up the nerve to ask for help.
Maybe...and this is a big MAYBE cuz I am putting a lot on a man that has no clue what’s going on in my head, but maybe if he stays true to who he seems to be it will give me the courage to ask for help.
Or maybe I should just woman up and pull that number out and make an appointment.
*rubbing my temples* Anyway, here’s what I wanted to send to him Saturday.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
5:30 am
I woke up cuz I had to pee. Its Saturday. Sleep late day. I don’t want to get up this freaking early! So, first I tried to convince myself I didn’t have to pee cuz if I got up then I would be up for the day and my bed felt so warm and comfy. If I just laid there and told myself I didn‘t have to pee then maybe I’d go back to sleep. It works sometimes.
5:52 am EST
It didn’t work. The sharp pain I got from my bladder made me think it had called me a bad name. More than a little annoyed at the bladder that was only doing its job I threw off the covers and made for the bathroom. I flipped on the light switch in the bathroom and the white light chased away the last of my warm sleepy feelings.
A little sulky over losing the argument with my bladder, I made my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I sat and sipped while I contemplated what I wanted to accomplish with my day. I made a list of errands I wanted to run. When I finished my water, I went back to bed and I hoped back to sleep.
I put on my headphones and listened to some music for a while. Next thing I knew it was after 7:00 am and I was still wide awake. Ugh! Mentally, I asked my bladder was it happy now? It remained stoically silent on the matter. Then what was I expecting. It is a bladder after all. So I gave up on sleep and I decided to get up and fix breakfast.
8:17 am EST
My home phone rang as I was finishing breakfast. As usual it wasn’t on the base. I followed the sound and found it lost in my bed covers. I checked the caller ID and cursed the early evil azzed telemarketers.
I threw the phone back on the bed, yawned and stretched before grabbing the cell and checking for drunken texts from friends. I smiled when I saw I had two texts.
First up was Betsy. She sent me a single word text : Gruml. Now what did that mean? She would hate me for replying so early. So, I gleefully hit the reply and send buttons. She never did answer me. *chuckle*
Second text was from Hotmail telling me I had an email from My Obsession! I opened my email, read his email and grinned a wicked grin I felt all the way down to my impish little toes. I stretched and yawned again before settling back in bed to compose a reply to match my grin...and fell asleep.
12:32 pm! EST
Again I woke up to the sound of my ringing phone. Damn it! Another telemarketer. I checked the time and couldn’t believe my day was being wasted sleeping! I spied my cell and remembered I was composing a wicked email to send to My Obsession when I fell asleep.
I checked the phone and my web browser awaited my action patiently. All manner of wickedness ran rampant through my mind. So, confident that I would come up with something really NSFW, I headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower. I caught the mischievous set of my mouth and glint in my eyes in the mirror as I finished brushing my teeth and stepped into the shower.
Steam rose up from the hot spray as I poured my favorite citrus and wild ginger gel and worked it up into a thick white foam. I thought about his last question as I made foamy circles over my skin. Who would be the woman he decided to have celebrate his end to his celibacy?
Warm butterflies fluttered happily from my stomach down below the bikini line *snort me in a bikini*. Still, I lathered my body and wished I could just grab my passport and go! Then, I sighed as I watched the lather rinsed down off my cinnamon chocolate skin. I wished I’d met him about 2 1/2 years ago when I trusted myself more and was freer.
Then I really thought about it. I was never that free, I still had a job to consider but I had such a great boss back then it would have been nothing to take 2 weeks and just go thoroughly explore My Obsession.
As I stepped from the shower my heated skin turned to goose pebbles as the chill air hit me. I had forgotten to turn on the heat. Again. It turned cold early this year. Then as is Momma Nay’s way when it comes to Maryland, Momma Nay can never quite make up her mind when the cold weather is here to stay. It can be 80 on Friday and 35 Saturday morning.
This Saturday was turning out to be chilly and gray.
I wrapped a thick white towel around me and went into my equally chill bedroom. As I rubbed vigorously at my cooling skin I longed for wishes to come true.
If they did I would wish away the last 30 months of my life.
I’d wish that when I stepped from my bedroom I would step into My Obsession’s home.
I’d find you sitting at a table. Your hands folded stiffly in front of you. The world around you a blur as I focused solely on you. You’d sit contemplating great and wonderful things as the scent of wild ginger and citrus enveloped you. I’d tiptoe close to you and ease into the chair behind you. As if it were the most natural thing in the world for me to be there, you’d scoot forward making room for me.
The towel would inch up my thighs as I got comfortable. My real name would be a question on your lips. You’d say it perfectly. Delightfully. Somehow, I knew it would sound absolutely beautiful coming from you.
I’d press closer in answer.
Your warmth would steal the chill from my skin. My toes would warm themselves against your sock covered ankles. My calves would rub themselves against your denim covered calves. My thighs would press against the warm fabric covering your thighs. My arms would encircle your waist and my fingers would find their way under your shirt to your warm skin.
There’d be a hitch in your breath as my cool fingertips roamed freely over your heated skin.
I’d rest my chin on your shoulder as I caught your ear teasingly betwixt my teeth. I’d taste my new treat with the tip of my tongue.
Yum!
My mind would be in a conundrum about whether to draw blood or not.
As if you could read my mind you’d turn your head pulling your ear free. That would be just fine. I’d have nothing but time. So instead I’d press my warm lips against your jaw and breathe you in.
*BIG SIGH*
But wishes don’t come true and the last 30 months still gnaw at my confidence. So I pulled on a pair of jeans, in honor of my yummy fantasy, and readied myself to run errands. I went to the kitchen to take something out of the freezer for dinner before heading out.
As I headed for the front door, the gray sky opened up and rained hard and coldly down on my day.
You should know, dear Obsession, I can be cold or I can be wet and still be unbothered. To be cold and wet at the same time when I don’t have to be? Ah...no. I quickly went over the errands I had to run and decided they could wait. A drizzle I could handle. A torrential downpour? Uh uh!
So, I went back to my bedroom. Took off my clothes and lay back and listened to the rain music and thought about you for awhile .
********************
That there was pretty PG13. Trust me, there’s more. *wicked giggle* Yes, I still giggle! Anyway, I was gonna describe the lingerie I put on and the towel does not survive this encounter. It gets torn to make restraints...sigh...and if you can’t guess where it goes from there then you aren’t old enough to be reading this post. *chuckle* Or you are a virgin who has been brought up in the basement of a convent and you really should head back to that basement and stay away from the internet, TV, strangers, the world outside your front door, and me. *hands on hips glaring sternly*
Mercy! He just sent me the most delicious email that I just want to run wild with! Geez Louise, if only!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Feminists
Feminists get on my nerves. They really do.
I mean, think about it. God in His infinite and wondrous wisdom made man. He made him with all kinds of wondrous talents. Like lifting things and fixing things and putting things together. Men don’t have to think “Righty tighty and lefty loosey”. I get confused just turning on my shower sometimes.
They like getting dirty working on cars and don’t give a crap about breaking their fingernails or getting dirt under them.
My manicurists (past and present) have always complimented me on the natural shape of my nails. The last time I chipped a nail I decided to cut it down on my own and call it a day. Afterall, it is just a fingernail and they do grow back.
However, when my manicurist saw what I had done she scolded me and gave me a FREE bottle of nail fix to hold me over until I could get to her the next time a nail chip happened. Therefore, I do my best to take care of my hands and nails becuz of all these women. My manicurist is on speed dial # 2.
So see, to me, men are just absolutely freaking wonderful. Most of the time. Don’t push it fellas. I know the same can be said for us women, too.
Then these gotdamn feminists come along and say women are equal and we can do this shyt ourselves.
Hello! *waves finger in a circle at the monitor* Nobody said we couldn’t do this ish ourselves! Read the Bible! No where in there does it say we women can’t do this ish ourselves! Its just hella more convenient and easier to let the men do it for us.
And y’all some men are so appreciative when I go all girly and let them do manish ish. Like killing bugs for me, and carrying stuff for me, and tightening stuff for me. They are so cute! Its like the more I gush the more they want to do for me. The more they do for me the more tickled I am! Its a win/win situation anyway I look at it.
I remember one time a friend of mine and her boyfriend offered me a ride home from college. On the way home he got a flat. He wanted to show us young women how to change a flat in case we ever needed to. He is one of those men who have been brainwashed by the feminists. There are a lot of them out there. I stays away from them type of men.
Anyway, I got out the car and strolled around to the passenger side where said flat tire was. I then informed him that I had no intention of ever changing a flat tire. He scoffed at me and said something insultingly highbrow I know cuz he was that type of college student.
I have always read a lot and in so doing I have a pretty large vocabulary. Therefore, I understood his insult I just chose not to respond becuz there is a God. And He seemed to be on my side this day becuz *chuckling in remembrance* as friend and her boyfriend disappeared on the passenger side to change the flat tire people kept stopping to ask me did I need help. Did I need a ride? Did I need help changing the tire?
I just barely kept a straight face. I thanked everyone who stopped kindly and assured them that help was on the way. I even got people asking did I need someone to stay with me while I waited.
LOL Oh my damn! He was hot when he got back in the car. I caught the two of them exchanging exasperated looks at least once. I truly believe that had he not believed I would have gotten a better ride home and that his car would have blown up from the bad karma he would have left me by the side of the road. They never offered to take me home again. That’s ok. Shortly thereafter college friend’s roommate put hickeys on boyfriend’s body. I ain‘t gonna go into where.
Men are absolutely freaking wonderful...most of the time.
I am truly tickled that though I have had a flat tire I have never changed a tire in my life. It is one of my dreams to be able to look back over my life and never have had to do such a thing. *shrug* You got your dreams and I got mine. Don’t judge.
But what gits on my nerves about feminists is that they have been trying to make me feel somehow less just because I like letting men do the things that they are so much more suited at doing than I.
I don’t want to chop down trees to build my chalet. When I do stuff like that I get big mucsles and my tiddays all but disappear. *shimmies Jasmine and Jocelyn* I like my tiddays becuz of how silly men act when I put the girls on display. And the way my girls sway gracefully to and fro lets me know they like being on display. So neither me nor my tiddays approve of said activity.
When men chop down trees and ish they get nice big mucscles and lovely well defined pecs. The men get pecs and I keep tiddays. It’s another win win situation as far as I am concerned.
*leans in consiratorially toward monitor*
And you know what? Now it’s just a theory but I think that a lot of times when men aren’t being absolutely freaking wonderful some feminist has done something to royally piss them off.
*shrug* Just my humble opinon. Hmm, I wonder if my old college chum did anything to royally piss off her old college boyfriend?
*leans back and tips highball glass at the monitor*
I mean, think about it. God in His infinite and wondrous wisdom made man. He made him with all kinds of wondrous talents. Like lifting things and fixing things and putting things together. Men don’t have to think “Righty tighty and lefty loosey”. I get confused just turning on my shower sometimes.
They like getting dirty working on cars and don’t give a crap about breaking their fingernails or getting dirt under them.
My manicurists (past and present) have always complimented me on the natural shape of my nails. The last time I chipped a nail I decided to cut it down on my own and call it a day. Afterall, it is just a fingernail and they do grow back.
However, when my manicurist saw what I had done she scolded me and gave me a FREE bottle of nail fix to hold me over until I could get to her the next time a nail chip happened. Therefore, I do my best to take care of my hands and nails becuz of all these women. My manicurist is on speed dial # 2.
So see, to me, men are just absolutely freaking wonderful. Most of the time. Don’t push it fellas. I know the same can be said for us women, too.
Then these gotdamn feminists come along and say women are equal and we can do this shyt ourselves.
Hello! *waves finger in a circle at the monitor* Nobody said we couldn’t do this ish ourselves! Read the Bible! No where in there does it say we women can’t do this ish ourselves! Its just hella more convenient and easier to let the men do it for us.
And y’all some men are so appreciative when I go all girly and let them do manish ish. Like killing bugs for me, and carrying stuff for me, and tightening stuff for me. They are so cute! Its like the more I gush the more they want to do for me. The more they do for me the more tickled I am! Its a win/win situation anyway I look at it.
I remember one time a friend of mine and her boyfriend offered me a ride home from college. On the way home he got a flat. He wanted to show us young women how to change a flat in case we ever needed to. He is one of those men who have been brainwashed by the feminists. There are a lot of them out there. I stays away from them type of men.
Anyway, I got out the car and strolled around to the passenger side where said flat tire was. I then informed him that I had no intention of ever changing a flat tire. He scoffed at me and said something insultingly highbrow I know cuz he was that type of college student.
I have always read a lot and in so doing I have a pretty large vocabulary. Therefore, I understood his insult I just chose not to respond becuz there is a God. And He seemed to be on my side this day becuz *chuckling in remembrance* as friend and her boyfriend disappeared on the passenger side to change the flat tire people kept stopping to ask me did I need help. Did I need a ride? Did I need help changing the tire?
I just barely kept a straight face. I thanked everyone who stopped kindly and assured them that help was on the way. I even got people asking did I need someone to stay with me while I waited.
LOL Oh my damn! He was hot when he got back in the car. I caught the two of them exchanging exasperated looks at least once. I truly believe that had he not believed I would have gotten a better ride home and that his car would have blown up from the bad karma he would have left me by the side of the road. They never offered to take me home again. That’s ok. Shortly thereafter college friend’s roommate put hickeys on boyfriend’s body. I ain‘t gonna go into where.
Men are absolutely freaking wonderful...most of the time.
I am truly tickled that though I have had a flat tire I have never changed a tire in my life. It is one of my dreams to be able to look back over my life and never have had to do such a thing. *shrug* You got your dreams and I got mine. Don’t judge.
But what gits on my nerves about feminists is that they have been trying to make me feel somehow less just because I like letting men do the things that they are so much more suited at doing than I.
I don’t want to chop down trees to build my chalet. When I do stuff like that I get big mucsles and my tiddays all but disappear. *shimmies Jasmine and Jocelyn* I like my tiddays becuz of how silly men act when I put the girls on display. And the way my girls sway gracefully to and fro lets me know they like being on display. So neither me nor my tiddays approve of said activity.
When men chop down trees and ish they get nice big mucscles and lovely well defined pecs. The men get pecs and I keep tiddays. It’s another win win situation as far as I am concerned.
*leans in consiratorially toward monitor*
And you know what? Now it’s just a theory but I think that a lot of times when men aren’t being absolutely freaking wonderful some feminist has done something to royally piss them off.
*shrug* Just my humble opinon. Hmm, I wonder if my old college chum did anything to royally piss off her old college boyfriend?
*leans back and tips highball glass at the monitor*
Saturday, October 17, 2009
The telling of me
I ain’t telling y’all jack!
Sike! :o)
Ok, so I seent (not a typo I love pronouncing this word this way) on one of the blogs I lurk a post about being honest about yourself and telling a few personal details and I thought I'd give it a go.
As I sat thinking and grinning about some of the things I wanted to share…I realized…that…some…things…could (depending on the statute of limitations)…get me arrested.
*blink blink*
Ah...no! This is one of my favorite mantras:
Ahem…Anyplace dyck ain’t running free is not for me!
I am doing my very best to stay out of places that submit you to random azz cavity searches that are in no way fun or pleasurable for me. Being traded for cigarettes is a no no. And I am not even bi-curious. Except online. *Kanye shrug* I don't understand it either.
There are reasons me and my partner in crime call each other partners in crime. I so wish I was joking…*big sigh and eye roll while smh* That said, there’s just some stuff that I can’t fess up to until I consult with my attorney about the statute of limitations on some stuff.
Dang…I really been bad, huh? I mean, I ain’t kilt (yes, kilt) anyone. I just use to be down for whatever my friends wanted to do. I thought I was having fun at the time. *chuckle* So it took me some time to come up with things I could tell without…ya know, getting into trouble. *smirk up at my wobbling halo*
*half smirk* I was having fun most of the time. You know how that is.
When I was a child I spoke as a child I understood as a child I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things. I Cor. 13: 11.
I am growing up. Yes, I am still growing up. I still like cereal in bed while watching my two favorite Saturday morning cartoons. *sticks tongue out at monitor*
Now that I am finally growing up, nope I ain’t grown yet, I have stopped doing a lot of the stuff I use to do. Like partying all dang night during the work week, stumbling in drunk at 3 am, deciding to stay up and fix breakfast so I can sober up, and drag my azz to work. Yeah, I know that’s pretty tame right there.
Let’s see. What else can I fess up on without having to submit to random non-sexual cavity searches?
I can be tactless at times. And I can be cruel. When I was in my teens and twenties I would spew every thought that entered my mind. I did that until I looked up and saw tears in a friend’s eyes. I had really hurt her feelings and it had not been my intention. That night I learned to think long before I spoke.
I still think tactless and mean thoughts from time to time. I just keep them to myself. Usually when I am being mean spirited it means that it’s time for a vacation.
Oh! In college, I thought I was gonna fail an exam so I decided to get drunk before the exam so I wouldn’t care. I aced the dang thing and passed the class! LOL Go figure. I do not espouse doing that, however. *looks around nervously hoping my godson isn’t lurking*
Also, my freshman year in college me and some friends got nekkid and put on raincoats with the idea we were going to go around campus flashing guys. Luckily, when we got outside in the cold night air we sobered up a bit. We realized just how stupid that idea was and promptly headed back to the dorm.
I lost my virginity at age 19 to a pathological liar. *big sigh and smh* I actually had my first orgasm at a much earlier age. I ain’t sure whether I should tell it right now. Maybe on another post. *tee hee*
I am 41 years old presently and me and my oldest sister didn’t get along the first 35 years of my life. Truth. You had to have met her back in the day. We have both changed enough that we can spend up to 4 hours in each other’s presence without fighting. At 4 hours and 1 minute call 911 cuz there is about to be a misunderstanding betwixt us that may lead to a physical altercation. I adhere to this timeline at all familial functions. I am trying to stay off the news for ignant unnecessary ish.
I have 3 older sisters. Poppa was a rolling stone so I also got a half brother and two half sisters floating around out there somewhere, too. I am, however, the youngest of them all. And I don’t think…*cough* I am…*wheeze* spoiled…ok, let me stop playin’ before a lightning bolt strikes me in the forehead. I am spoiled nicely. I am not rotten. Yet.
I am single with no kids. *gets up to do the Stanky Leg ends up looking like the Funky Chicken*
I thought I would be married by now with a couple crumb snatchers by now. *shrug* I am still having fun so I guess it’s all good. And I am 41 years old so no there will be no last minute kids coming up outta here. It. Ain’t. Happening.
I wanted children once upon a time *shrug* but the window of opportunity came and went. I couldn’t find a husband that was right for me and who I was right for.
I've had three chances to get married so far. The first guy, I use to think I didn’t fight hard enough for him before I matured enough to know he should have been fighting for me.
The second, I would have had to change who I am and I like me. I really do like me. With all my silly goof ups, missteps, falls, tumbles and imperfections, I still like being me. That said, I let that one pass, too.
The third guy? It was at that desperate time in my young womanly life when all my girlz were getting married. I wanted to join the married ladies club too. Then my old hair stylist, Teresa, gave me some advice followed by her example and I let that one pass too. Teresa told me that as all my girlfriends got married I was gonna wanna be part of the club. That I was gonna wanna marry the next guy that asked me. She said don’t do it unless I am sure he is the one I want. It’s not worth it otherwise. Then came the example not too many weeks later. I use to go weekly to get my hairdo done.
It was obvious to anyone, that Teresa’s husband loved his wife. He would be there any time she called for whatever she needed. He loved his wife and put her first in all things. One particular Saturday afternoon he displeased her. I can’t remember what Teresa’s husband did to displease her but I remember the explosion. She…dang…she destroyed this man in her salon, in public, in a room full of women. And we womenfolk all felt sorry for the husband. I remember us sitting in uncomfortable silence the whole time she lit into him. When he left, he said not one word and he had tears in his eyes. And I looked around and got the general consensus that none of us believed that he deserved what he got. It was a real quiet afternoon in the hair salon that Saturday.
The third guy reminded me a lot of Teresa’s husband. He loved me, was very affectionate and was happy with me just as I was. But I didn’t stay as I was. I was and am in transformation. He was happy and satisfied with his life as it was. He had absolutely no ambition to do anything more than what he was doing at that time. And he didn't want to be prodded, molded, and changed into what anyone else him to be either. I applaud him but...
*blinkity blink blink*
I had already outgrown him. Sad but true. I never wanted to do to him what I’d seen done to someone else. Her tirade was more than likely borne out of frustration with herself for settling. In the end she made two people unhappy. I am pretty content as I am now. But back then I wanted more and to do better and keep striving and moving. I am not that same person now and I am glad I let him go.
Now, I don’t think I am wifey material. I have discovered I am a side piece. More about that discovery later. *wink*
Oh snap! How could I forget potential mate # 4! *smacks self in the head* Jeez Louise! I met this guy at a temp job. He seemed nice enough but after 2 lunch dates and a dinner date he was ready to marry me.
*side eye left...side eye right*
I'm cute, I'm nice, and I'm funny but that in no way means that you should be ready to marry me after 2 lunches and a dinner date. Period. I can also be evil first thing in the morning. We hadn't even gotten intimate yet and he was asking me what kind of house I wanted to live in. I thought that was really great...at first. Until he showed up at my desk with an architectual magazine showing me his dream house. I liked the house. I still wasn't sure how I felt about him but I told him that my dream was to live at the beach so that I could watch the sun rise over the ocean every morning.
He responded that he'd sell his home and we could move to the eastern shore (Maryland). His only request is that we live bay side and he would use his boat to take me to ocean side every morning so I could see my sunrise.
That was sweet but a little too fast on the draw for me. My lack of enthusiasm threw him and he soon faded out too.
Every now and again, when I'm having a particularly hard day at work or in a personal relationship his face pops up in my memory. I realize I could be on the eastern shore now living with my husband and stepson totally oblivious to the madness that is driving me crazy at that particular moment. I shared that with my BFFL (best friend for life, I hope) and she put it in perspective for me. She said "Girl, for all you know you could be on the run for your life from that psycho now. Come on now, 2 lunches and 1 dinner date and he's ready to get married?"
True. So, I though I still have rough times I don't think about him wistfully anymore.
*Tapping chin*
I’ve never been pregnant but I’ve had a couple pregnancy scares. I prayed and I cried like a baby each time for those tests to come back in the negative. Both times I was in my 20’s but the guys weren’t about jack. They were not what I wanted for my baby’s daddy. After the second scare I stopped playing around with my birth control.
I am the youngest of my momma's four girls. I am spoiled ever so nicely. That is my story until I meet The Donald (call me) or The Donaldesque (please call me). After that I’ll be spoiled rotten and they will be very happy with the end result. Spoil me and I won’t turn into a mean heffa. Of course, unless that’s what you want me to be. *wink wink*
Oh yeah, I hate PETA cuz if I ever get The Donald (or someone with Donaldesque pockets) caught up and mesmerized by my cinnamon chocolate swirl, I am getting a chalet (no I cannot ski for ish I just love snow) and a mink blanket, and mink rugs, and mink pillowcases, and satin sheets (don’t wanna overdo it with the mink) and a mink coat in every classy and/or tacky color you can think of in various lengths.
All my minks will be euthanized ethically and with dignity and if PETA don’t like it I really don’t care. We will just agree to disagree like grown ups are supposed to do. But if they put paint on my minks then I am gonna have to call Pookie and ‘nem and start a war. And Pookie and ‘nem don’t give a shyt. They will kill you over a box of chicken.[Couple Robbed At Gunpoint For Chicken]
Now, I can feel peoplez getting bent out of shape like how am I just gonna go cold golddigger on y’all? It’s simple math really. Con men and other broke azz men, I am financially challenged (no money) with bad credit. *Shivers!* I just felt a great disturbance in the web. Did you feel the browsers shut down? *chuckle*
To the average everyday Joe, you can’t afford to get all caught up in my cinnamon chocolate swirl. Let me tell you what will happen. I will meet you, charm you, sex you, and OWN you. All of that coupled with the fact that I love sex and I am a great cook will have you mesmerized. And I’ll be happy with your azz for one hot minute, too. Then, cuz the devil just likes to mess with me, The Donald or The Donaldesque will finally fall into my swirl zone and become my personal ATM. Then it will be time for me to let you, average Joe, go. By this time you are beyond sprung and then you be done gone all Joe Palczynski and ish. [Joe Palczynski: A Legacy Of Pain]
So to save time and lives, I am holding out for The Donald (call me) or The Donaldesque (call me). I ain’t picky when your ends not only meet but can wrap around a plus sized swirler like myself several times.
Ok, this got a lot longer than I thought. I guess I had a lot to tell afterall...even without the um...otherstuff.
Sike! :o)
Ok, so I seent (not a typo I love pronouncing this word this way) on one of the blogs I lurk a post about being honest about yourself and telling a few personal details and I thought I'd give it a go.
As I sat thinking and grinning about some of the things I wanted to share…I realized…that…some…things…could (depending on the statute of limitations)…get me arrested.
*blink blink*
Ah...no! This is one of my favorite mantras:
Ahem…Anyplace dyck ain’t running free is not for me!
I am doing my very best to stay out of places that submit you to random azz cavity searches that are in no way fun or pleasurable for me. Being traded for cigarettes is a no no. And I am not even bi-curious. Except online. *Kanye shrug* I don't understand it either.
There are reasons me and my partner in crime call each other partners in crime. I so wish I was joking…*big sigh and eye roll while smh* That said, there’s just some stuff that I can’t fess up to until I consult with my attorney about the statute of limitations on some stuff.
Dang…I really been bad, huh? I mean, I ain’t kilt (yes, kilt) anyone. I just use to be down for whatever my friends wanted to do. I thought I was having fun at the time. *chuckle* So it took me some time to come up with things I could tell without…ya know, getting into trouble. *smirk up at my wobbling halo*
*half smirk* I was having fun most of the time. You know how that is.
When I was a child I spoke as a child I understood as a child I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things. I Cor. 13: 11.
I am growing up. Yes, I am still growing up. I still like cereal in bed while watching my two favorite Saturday morning cartoons. *sticks tongue out at monitor*
Now that I am finally growing up, nope I ain’t grown yet, I have stopped doing a lot of the stuff I use to do. Like partying all dang night during the work week, stumbling in drunk at 3 am, deciding to stay up and fix breakfast so I can sober up, and drag my azz to work. Yeah, I know that’s pretty tame right there.
Let’s see. What else can I fess up on without having to submit to random non-sexual cavity searches?
I can be tactless at times. And I can be cruel. When I was in my teens and twenties I would spew every thought that entered my mind. I did that until I looked up and saw tears in a friend’s eyes. I had really hurt her feelings and it had not been my intention. That night I learned to think long before I spoke.
I still think tactless and mean thoughts from time to time. I just keep them to myself. Usually when I am being mean spirited it means that it’s time for a vacation.
Oh! In college, I thought I was gonna fail an exam so I decided to get drunk before the exam so I wouldn’t care. I aced the dang thing and passed the class! LOL Go figure. I do not espouse doing that, however. *looks around nervously hoping my godson isn’t lurking*
Also, my freshman year in college me and some friends got nekkid and put on raincoats with the idea we were going to go around campus flashing guys. Luckily, when we got outside in the cold night air we sobered up a bit. We realized just how stupid that idea was and promptly headed back to the dorm.
I lost my virginity at age 19 to a pathological liar. *big sigh and smh* I actually had my first orgasm at a much earlier age. I ain’t sure whether I should tell it right now. Maybe on another post. *tee hee*
I am 41 years old presently and me and my oldest sister didn’t get along the first 35 years of my life. Truth. You had to have met her back in the day. We have both changed enough that we can spend up to 4 hours in each other’s presence without fighting. At 4 hours and 1 minute call 911 cuz there is about to be a misunderstanding betwixt us that may lead to a physical altercation. I adhere to this timeline at all familial functions. I am trying to stay off the news for ignant unnecessary ish.
I have 3 older sisters. Poppa was a rolling stone so I also got a half brother and two half sisters floating around out there somewhere, too. I am, however, the youngest of them all. And I don’t think…*cough* I am…*wheeze* spoiled…ok, let me stop playin’ before a lightning bolt strikes me in the forehead. I am spoiled nicely. I am not rotten. Yet.
I am single with no kids. *gets up to do the Stanky Leg ends up looking like the Funky Chicken*
I thought I would be married by now with a couple crumb snatchers by now. *shrug* I am still having fun so I guess it’s all good. And I am 41 years old so no there will be no last minute kids coming up outta here. It. Ain’t. Happening.
I wanted children once upon a time *shrug* but the window of opportunity came and went. I couldn’t find a husband that was right for me and who I was right for.
I've had three chances to get married so far. The first guy, I use to think I didn’t fight hard enough for him before I matured enough to know he should have been fighting for me.
The second, I would have had to change who I am and I like me. I really do like me. With all my silly goof ups, missteps, falls, tumbles and imperfections, I still like being me. That said, I let that one pass, too.
The third guy? It was at that desperate time in my young womanly life when all my girlz were getting married. I wanted to join the married ladies club too. Then my old hair stylist, Teresa, gave me some advice followed by her example and I let that one pass too. Teresa told me that as all my girlfriends got married I was gonna wanna be part of the club. That I was gonna wanna marry the next guy that asked me. She said don’t do it unless I am sure he is the one I want. It’s not worth it otherwise. Then came the example not too many weeks later. I use to go weekly to get my hairdo done.
It was obvious to anyone, that Teresa’s husband loved his wife. He would be there any time she called for whatever she needed. He loved his wife and put her first in all things. One particular Saturday afternoon he displeased her. I can’t remember what Teresa’s husband did to displease her but I remember the explosion. She…dang…she destroyed this man in her salon, in public, in a room full of women. And we womenfolk all felt sorry for the husband. I remember us sitting in uncomfortable silence the whole time she lit into him. When he left, he said not one word and he had tears in his eyes. And I looked around and got the general consensus that none of us believed that he deserved what he got. It was a real quiet afternoon in the hair salon that Saturday.
The third guy reminded me a lot of Teresa’s husband. He loved me, was very affectionate and was happy with me just as I was. But I didn’t stay as I was. I was and am in transformation. He was happy and satisfied with his life as it was. He had absolutely no ambition to do anything more than what he was doing at that time. And he didn't want to be prodded, molded, and changed into what anyone else him to be either. I applaud him but...
*blinkity blink blink*
I had already outgrown him. Sad but true. I never wanted to do to him what I’d seen done to someone else. Her tirade was more than likely borne out of frustration with herself for settling. In the end she made two people unhappy. I am pretty content as I am now. But back then I wanted more and to do better and keep striving and moving. I am not that same person now and I am glad I let him go.
Now, I don’t think I am wifey material. I have discovered I am a side piece. More about that discovery later. *wink*
Oh snap! How could I forget potential mate # 4! *smacks self in the head* Jeez Louise! I met this guy at a temp job. He seemed nice enough but after 2 lunch dates and a dinner date he was ready to marry me.
*side eye left...side eye right*
I'm cute, I'm nice, and I'm funny but that in no way means that you should be ready to marry me after 2 lunches and a dinner date. Period. I can also be evil first thing in the morning. We hadn't even gotten intimate yet and he was asking me what kind of house I wanted to live in. I thought that was really great...at first. Until he showed up at my desk with an architectual magazine showing me his dream house. I liked the house. I still wasn't sure how I felt about him but I told him that my dream was to live at the beach so that I could watch the sun rise over the ocean every morning.
He responded that he'd sell his home and we could move to the eastern shore (Maryland). His only request is that we live bay side and he would use his boat to take me to ocean side every morning so I could see my sunrise.
That was sweet but a little too fast on the draw for me. My lack of enthusiasm threw him and he soon faded out too.
Every now and again, when I'm having a particularly hard day at work or in a personal relationship his face pops up in my memory. I realize I could be on the eastern shore now living with my husband and stepson totally oblivious to the madness that is driving me crazy at that particular moment. I shared that with my BFFL (best friend for life, I hope) and she put it in perspective for me. She said "Girl, for all you know you could be on the run for your life from that psycho now. Come on now, 2 lunches and 1 dinner date and he's ready to get married?"
True. So, I though I still have rough times I don't think about him wistfully anymore.
*Tapping chin*
I’ve never been pregnant but I’ve had a couple pregnancy scares. I prayed and I cried like a baby each time for those tests to come back in the negative. Both times I was in my 20’s but the guys weren’t about jack. They were not what I wanted for my baby’s daddy. After the second scare I stopped playing around with my birth control.
I am the youngest of my momma's four girls. I am spoiled ever so nicely. That is my story until I meet The Donald (call me) or The Donaldesque (please call me). After that I’ll be spoiled rotten and they will be very happy with the end result. Spoil me and I won’t turn into a mean heffa. Of course, unless that’s what you want me to be. *wink wink*
Oh yeah, I hate PETA cuz if I ever get The Donald (or someone with Donaldesque pockets) caught up and mesmerized by my cinnamon chocolate swirl, I am getting a chalet (no I cannot ski for ish I just love snow) and a mink blanket, and mink rugs, and mink pillowcases, and satin sheets (don’t wanna overdo it with the mink) and a mink coat in every classy and/or tacky color you can think of in various lengths.
All my minks will be euthanized ethically and with dignity and if PETA don’t like it I really don’t care. We will just agree to disagree like grown ups are supposed to do. But if they put paint on my minks then I am gonna have to call Pookie and ‘nem and start a war. And Pookie and ‘nem don’t give a shyt. They will kill you over a box of chicken.[Couple Robbed At Gunpoint For Chicken]
Now, I can feel peoplez getting bent out of shape like how am I just gonna go cold golddigger on y’all? It’s simple math really. Con men and other broke azz men, I am financially challenged (no money) with bad credit. *Shivers!* I just felt a great disturbance in the web. Did you feel the browsers shut down? *chuckle*
To the average everyday Joe, you can’t afford to get all caught up in my cinnamon chocolate swirl. Let me tell you what will happen. I will meet you, charm you, sex you, and OWN you. All of that coupled with the fact that I love sex and I am a great cook will have you mesmerized. And I’ll be happy with your azz for one hot minute, too. Then, cuz the devil just likes to mess with me, The Donald or The Donaldesque will finally fall into my swirl zone and become my personal ATM. Then it will be time for me to let you, average Joe, go. By this time you are beyond sprung and then you be done gone all Joe Palczynski and ish. [Joe Palczynski: A Legacy Of Pain]
So to save time and lives, I am holding out for The Donald (call me) or The Donaldesque (call me). I ain’t picky when your ends not only meet but can wrap around a plus sized swirler like myself several times.
Ok, this got a lot longer than I thought. I guess I had a lot to tell afterall...even without the um...otherstuff.
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