Sunday, January 24, 2010
Who Needs Couples Counseling When There’s the Internet
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What’s For Dinner, Rice or Mac-n-Cheese?
An old friend of mine recently got back together with her favorite bust it baby. This man has managed to avoid commitment for two years but I guess he lost stamina because before the holidays hit he was bit by the “love bug”.
Now, I’m all excited for chick because she really loves dude. I don’t support the relationship, but hey, if you’re disillusioned into believing you’re happy than I’m happy for you.
I tell my girlfriends and they start laughing. One chick is like “hell no, I don’t believe it!” and the other simply states “sweat rice”.
Errruhhh…what rice? So she informs me that sweat rice is a recipe used by a woman who desperately wants to keep her man (more like a man that was never hers to keep in the first place). It’s a simple recipe that only requires rice and menstruation.
Yes, ladies and gentleman rice is needed! Oh wait, so is period blood…so pretty much the woman needs to cook her boo some rice and while it’s boiling, put the pot on the ground, stand over it with no panties on, and wait for her menstruation to drip drop into the pot.
Yummy much?
Once there’s enough menstruation in the pot, the desperate psycho woman can continue cooking the rice as usual and once cooled serve her man. Of course, chick can’t eat her own menstruation so she has to cook a separate pot of rice for herself or just claim to be on the Atkins Diet.
So my thing is, really? Rice and blood. What the fuck? Both women mentioned are from the West Indies, so I’m thinking this rice voodoo recipe is culturally influenced, but as a Southern Belle will the same affect occur with macaroni? Or cornbread? Or cheese grits? Or any other starchy southern delight?
I’m thinking sweat sweet potato pie may have sweat rice beat.
Aside from the disturbing recipe, I can’t fathom that chick would really menstruate into a pot of bubbling rice and peas just to get a nigga to stay.
That by far is the craziest and most desperate shit I’ve ever heard. Fuck poking holes into the condom! Is a dude really worth compromising your Christian beliefs for? So much for a blessed union…
And why the hell does the recipe call for blood from your cycle? So if a dude hits it raw while you’re on your period, will your flow upon his dick cause him to rethink leaving you for the other woman he’s scheduled to fuck later that day?
And why the fuck does the recipe call for rice? Like, what are they really trying to hint at? Now I love me some rice and peas, but I’m more of a macaroni and cheese girl. So are you saying my choice of starch won’t work. Will the noodles and blood make him LEAVE instead? Oh, the tragedy.
I’m just amazed that there’s such a thing as sweat rice. I don’t think chick would stoop as low to bleed into a pot of rice and then feed it to ole boy, but who knows, they are STILL together…*blank stare*
Now, I’m all excited for chick because she really loves dude. I don’t support the relationship, but hey, if you’re disillusioned into believing you’re happy than I’m happy for you.
I tell my girlfriends and they start laughing. One chick is like “hell no, I don’t believe it!” and the other simply states “sweat rice”.
Errruhhh…what rice? So she informs me that sweat rice is a recipe used by a woman who desperately wants to keep her man (more like a man that was never hers to keep in the first place). It’s a simple recipe that only requires rice and menstruation.
Yes, ladies and gentleman rice is needed! Oh wait, so is period blood…so pretty much the woman needs to cook her boo some rice and while it’s boiling, put the pot on the ground, stand over it with no panties on, and wait for her menstruation to drip drop into the pot.
Yummy much?
Once there’s enough menstruation in the pot, the desperate psycho woman can continue cooking the rice as usual and once cooled serve her man. Of course, chick can’t eat her own menstruation so she has to cook a separate pot of rice for herself or just claim to be on the Atkins Diet.
So my thing is, really? Rice and blood. What the fuck? Both women mentioned are from the West Indies, so I’m thinking this rice voodoo recipe is culturally influenced, but as a Southern Belle will the same affect occur with macaroni? Or cornbread? Or cheese grits? Or any other starchy southern delight?
I’m thinking sweat sweet potato pie may have sweat rice beat.
Aside from the disturbing recipe, I can’t fathom that chick would really menstruate into a pot of bubbling rice and peas just to get a nigga to stay.
That by far is the craziest and most desperate shit I’ve ever heard. Fuck poking holes into the condom! Is a dude really worth compromising your Christian beliefs for? So much for a blessed union…
And why the hell does the recipe call for blood from your cycle? So if a dude hits it raw while you’re on your period, will your flow upon his dick cause him to rethink leaving you for the other woman he’s scheduled to fuck later that day?
And why the fuck does the recipe call for rice? Like, what are they really trying to hint at? Now I love me some rice and peas, but I’m more of a macaroni and cheese girl. So are you saying my choice of starch won’t work. Will the noodles and blood make him LEAVE instead? Oh, the tragedy.
I’m just amazed that there’s such a thing as sweat rice. I don’t think chick would stoop as low to bleed into a pot of rice and then feed it to ole boy, but who knows, they are STILL together…*blank stare*
Swallowing Is So 2009
So I’m thinking my sexual practices may need to be revamped a little.
I met this guy. We saw a movie. We had a few meals. We had oral sex and I swallowed.
So he’s like yelling at me because I refuse to fuck him. The thought crossed by mind, but once I felt pressured I threw on my chastity belt and caught a major ‘tude. Dude was like, what the fuck are you scared I have something? Because whatever I have is already inside of you by now (FYI: hinting that you have a virus is not the way to convince a girl to fuck you).
So I start thinking and I’m like you’re right. He takes this RIGHT to mean sure we can fuck. I meant it as, omg I need to get tested ASAP and then get re-tested in 6 months and then pray and vow to never swallow semen again.
So here’s my problem, everyone’s all concerned about condoms during intercourse but what about during oral sex. I don’t now anyone who practices safe oral sex. I can’t imagine being lured into getting my pussy ate and then dude whipping out some dental dam. Talking about false pretenses!
Like, what the fuck. I wouldn’t dare suck a penis and not swallow, nor would I put a condom on a penis and suck it. But obviously swallowing isn’t safe. But neither is sucking the penis.
So what is a girl supposed to do when a beautiful, long, smooth, chocolate penis is an inch away from her mouth?
I guess grab a Trojan and sit on it instead.
I met this guy. We saw a movie. We had a few meals. We had oral sex and I swallowed.
So he’s like yelling at me because I refuse to fuck him. The thought crossed by mind, but once I felt pressured I threw on my chastity belt and caught a major ‘tude. Dude was like, what the fuck are you scared I have something? Because whatever I have is already inside of you by now (FYI: hinting that you have a virus is not the way to convince a girl to fuck you).
So I start thinking and I’m like you’re right. He takes this RIGHT to mean sure we can fuck. I meant it as, omg I need to get tested ASAP and then get re-tested in 6 months and then pray and vow to never swallow semen again.
So here’s my problem, everyone’s all concerned about condoms during intercourse but what about during oral sex. I don’t now anyone who practices safe oral sex. I can’t imagine being lured into getting my pussy ate and then dude whipping out some dental dam. Talking about false pretenses!
Like, what the fuck. I wouldn’t dare suck a penis and not swallow, nor would I put a condom on a penis and suck it. But obviously swallowing isn’t safe. But neither is sucking the penis.
So what is a girl supposed to do when a beautiful, long, smooth, chocolate penis is an inch away from her mouth?
I guess grab a Trojan and sit on it instead.
14K Baby-girl Hoop Earrings
So the Facebook has really gotten out of hand, like the shit is ridic. It reveals way too much, and is at this very moment telling me I need reconnect with Genise Coleman. Uhh…maybe I don’t want to reconnect with her, ever thought about that Mr. Zuckerberg.
Ultimately, FB allows you to passively keep in touch with people you have no business keeping in touch with. Cue the worst date I’ve ever been on…
So dude was a complete engineer dork in undergrad. He was skinny and had alopecia (like REALLY bad). I met him through a mutual friend, Genise Coleman (go figure) and we hit it off. Not in a sexual way, it was platonic…or so I thought. Years past, we fall out of touch but of course the FB kept us connected enough to inform dude that I’m single and have posted 12 new photos.
He took this “news feed” as the perfect opportunity to send me a message, but it turns out dude isn’t skinny anymore and his hair has grown back. He has an amazing body and hello! the electrical engineering degree doesn’t hurt either. We start poking and messaging one another. Numbers are exchanged. A date is set…and cue Scene 1.
Dude came to pick me up and I met him outside. The plan was dinner and a movie, so I had on a sexy red dress, black pumps, make up on point…your girl was scrumptious if I must say…and obviously dude thought the same thing because when he saw me his jaw dropped.
And so did mine.
Lets just say the FB is deceitfully reconnecting folk! Dude was still skinny. He was rocking black and white Chucks (guess I should have wore my Dickie dress and 5411's). Skinny jeans. A blue collared shirt that for some reason was unbuttoned to the middle of his bird chest. A dog tag necklace (minus the military necessity). Glasses. And earrings.
But not just any earrings. No they weren’t over-sized cubic zirconia studs. They were hoops. This negro had on TWO, baby-girl hoop earrings. For y’all that aren’t getting the visual, please imagine your little sister’s/nieces’/daughter’s first pair of earrings. I’m talking about a hoop so small they can never be worn past the age of two without looking utterly ridiculous.
But no…this negro thought stealing his baby sister’s hoop earrings as she slept in the crib was acceptable.
So we walk to the car and dude doesn’t even open the door for me.
We get to Brio. Conversation is good. Lighting is low, but not low enough to hide the fact that not only does he rock baby-girl hoop earrings, dude also wears colored contacts.
Brown, colored contacts.
And wait, his tongue is pierced.
So the romantic vibe in the room obviously skipped our table, because before I could fill up on bread dude admits to being a weed head.
He LOVES marijuana. Smoked some maryjane that morning. Claims that his herbal friend saved his life (and hair, hence the cured alopecia).
Turns out during his senior year of undergrad, dude was diagnosed with anxiety disorder. He took the prescribed medication for awhile but stumbled upon medicinal weed and hasn’t turned back since. Unfortunately, the campus police weren’t too fond of his new habit. They pulled him over one night but before the officer reached the car, dude swallowed the blunt. So even though no drugs were found on his persons or in the car, the campus legal department made him write a paper on what motivates him.
And of course, Ricky Williams is his role model.
I know this shit sounds made-up, but it gets so much weirder…
So dude tells me that he has a dealer in California and that the medicinal shit is like “…the best thing since Mary giving birth to Jesus”. I don’t know if characterizing an illegal substance as being almost as amazing as Jesus being born is correct, but hey…I’ve never smoked weed that keeps you high for three days so who am I to judge.
After learning all this shit in less than an hour, I wanted to skip the movie but all my friends were too punkish to see Paranormal Activity, so I figured a free movie wouldn’t hurt. Plus, who talks during a scary movie, riiight?
So we’re walking into the movie theater and dude stops me. He needs to go back to the car. Okay, cool right? It’s a tad bit chilly, I’m sure he needs to grab a jacket for the theater. He wants to make sure I’m warm, be a gentleman and make up for the car door mess-up.
Oh no…this nigga wants to go to his car to SMOKE some MEDICINAL WEED.
WHAT THE FUCK?
Like, are you serious? Like, do you really have weed in your car and are you really pressing pause on our date to get high? Oh wait, lets not forget I’ve been riding around in a car with a high black male who has at least ten ounces of prime marijuana in his possession. So now we’ve added a charge possession with intent to distribute to my date, yay…
There goes that bar card.
I try convincing him that he doesn’t…can’t…will get cursed the fuck out if he smokes. But he needs it; “it’ll make the paranormal even more paranormal”.
The date ends but dude has that I wanna come up look upon his face. He tells me that I have a nice ass and would love to see me again.
FUCK MY LIFE.
I rushed inside to tell my home girl about the date. She was ubberly excited, thinking this was it; I had reconnected with the man of my dreams. I told her that I was never going to talk to dude again, but she rationalized that people don’t always know how fucked up they are, and that I need to keep it real and let him know that baby-girl hoop earrings mixed with medicinal weed is unacceptable.
So this is what happens when keeping it real goes right…
Ultimately, FB allows you to passively keep in touch with people you have no business keeping in touch with. Cue the worst date I’ve ever been on…
So dude was a complete engineer dork in undergrad. He was skinny and had alopecia (like REALLY bad). I met him through a mutual friend, Genise Coleman (go figure) and we hit it off. Not in a sexual way, it was platonic…or so I thought. Years past, we fall out of touch but of course the FB kept us connected enough to inform dude that I’m single and have posted 12 new photos.
He took this “news feed” as the perfect opportunity to send me a message, but it turns out dude isn’t skinny anymore and his hair has grown back. He has an amazing body and hello! the electrical engineering degree doesn’t hurt either. We start poking and messaging one another. Numbers are exchanged. A date is set…and cue Scene 1.
Dude came to pick me up and I met him outside. The plan was dinner and a movie, so I had on a sexy red dress, black pumps, make up on point…your girl was scrumptious if I must say…and obviously dude thought the same thing because when he saw me his jaw dropped.
And so did mine.
Lets just say the FB is deceitfully reconnecting folk! Dude was still skinny. He was rocking black and white Chucks (guess I should have wore my Dickie dress and 5411's). Skinny jeans. A blue collared shirt that for some reason was unbuttoned to the middle of his bird chest. A dog tag necklace (minus the military necessity). Glasses. And earrings.
But not just any earrings. No they weren’t over-sized cubic zirconia studs. They were hoops. This negro had on TWO, baby-girl hoop earrings. For y’all that aren’t getting the visual, please imagine your little sister’s/nieces’/daughter’s first pair of earrings. I’m talking about a hoop so small they can never be worn past the age of two without looking utterly ridiculous.
But no…this negro thought stealing his baby sister’s hoop earrings as she slept in the crib was acceptable.
So we walk to the car and dude doesn’t even open the door for me.
We get to Brio. Conversation is good. Lighting is low, but not low enough to hide the fact that not only does he rock baby-girl hoop earrings, dude also wears colored contacts.
Brown, colored contacts.
And wait, his tongue is pierced.
So the romantic vibe in the room obviously skipped our table, because before I could fill up on bread dude admits to being a weed head.
He LOVES marijuana. Smoked some maryjane that morning. Claims that his herbal friend saved his life (and hair, hence the cured alopecia).
Turns out during his senior year of undergrad, dude was diagnosed with anxiety disorder. He took the prescribed medication for awhile but stumbled upon medicinal weed and hasn’t turned back since. Unfortunately, the campus police weren’t too fond of his new habit. They pulled him over one night but before the officer reached the car, dude swallowed the blunt. So even though no drugs were found on his persons or in the car, the campus legal department made him write a paper on what motivates him.
And of course, Ricky Williams is his role model.
I know this shit sounds made-up, but it gets so much weirder…
So dude tells me that he has a dealer in California and that the medicinal shit is like “…the best thing since Mary giving birth to Jesus”. I don’t know if characterizing an illegal substance as being almost as amazing as Jesus being born is correct, but hey…I’ve never smoked weed that keeps you high for three days so who am I to judge.
After learning all this shit in less than an hour, I wanted to skip the movie but all my friends were too punkish to see Paranormal Activity, so I figured a free movie wouldn’t hurt. Plus, who talks during a scary movie, riiight?
So we’re walking into the movie theater and dude stops me. He needs to go back to the car. Okay, cool right? It’s a tad bit chilly, I’m sure he needs to grab a jacket for the theater. He wants to make sure I’m warm, be a gentleman and make up for the car door mess-up.
Oh no…this nigga wants to go to his car to SMOKE some MEDICINAL WEED.
WHAT THE FUCK?
Like, are you serious? Like, do you really have weed in your car and are you really pressing pause on our date to get high? Oh wait, lets not forget I’ve been riding around in a car with a high black male who has at least ten ounces of prime marijuana in his possession. So now we’ve added a charge possession with intent to distribute to my date, yay…
There goes that bar card.
I try convincing him that he doesn’t…can’t…will get cursed the fuck out if he smokes. But he needs it; “it’ll make the paranormal even more paranormal”.
The date ends but dude has that I wanna come up look upon his face. He tells me that I have a nice ass and would love to see me again.
FUCK MY LIFE.
I rushed inside to tell my home girl about the date. She was ubberly excited, thinking this was it; I had reconnected with the man of my dreams. I told her that I was never going to talk to dude again, but she rationalized that people don’t always know how fucked up they are, and that I need to keep it real and let him know that baby-girl hoop earrings mixed with medicinal weed is unacceptable.
So this is what happens when keeping it real goes right…
When Keeping it Real Goes Right...
Me: So after last nite, I had a lot on my mind. I think ure a really cool person and I appreciate that u felt so comfortable that u were willing to open up to me. However, the weed seems to overly consume u. I sincerely thought hard about the way things went down & how u couldn't leave it alone; even for a few hours. We all have anxiety but it seems u cannot function w/o it. But to each his own. Yet, what really bothered me was that u put me in danger when I got n the car not knowing u had product w/u. U can do what u want bc ure grown, but my career aspirations r something I do not take lightly. U jeopardized my career by not telling me u were driving w/it n the car. Pls let ppl know b4 u offer them a ride so that they can make an informed decision whether or not to take a risk & ride w/u. Bc when u get stopped, the law says they can search me too. If they were 2 find something, I'd b taken down to the station until everything was sorted out.
Me: Next, & I may not b privy to this information but once I thought hard about it I had to ask, r u bisexual? It's nothing wrong w/it all. It's just there were a few things that went unmentioned but not unnoticed. I'm cool either way. Just thought I'd ask.
20 minutes later...
Ryan: Ugh, accidently erased what I was saying! Gimmie a min...
Me: Ok. Cool
Ryan: I didn't mean for you to feel uncomfortable in any way, my bad. I can completely understand where you're coming from and I wouldn't wanna be in the passenger seat if I was in your position.. It was VERY little :-/
Ryan: And I didn't mean to bring it up so often. U should'a just pointed me out on it + told me to STFU, j/k. Guess I'm use to hangin' around people who are smokers I guess.
Ryan: And the GAY thing really threw me off, but for some reason I got a good laugh out of it...
Me: Ok thx 4 understanding. I appreciate it. I guess next time I will tell u stfu lol but I just want u 2 b able 2 function...that's it
Ryan: If I seemed uncomfortable to u in any way it was b/c I was... Don't mean that in a bad way @ all. U're really a great person, just didn't know what 2 expect i guess.
Me: What do u mean by uncomfortable??
Ryan: Once I find a job I'll be strait. Really frustrated about not finding anything out there.. So wait, there's a next time? Hmmm....
At this point, I'm slamming the phone on the couch and yelling "FUCK!"
Ryan: U gotta explain the gay thing to me first. I'm finding this interesting. And I'm glad you're being honest w/ me.
Me: The reason I questioned ur sexuality was bc I have a very close gay friend & he looks like u... the baby girl hoop earrings, colored contacts, tongue piercing, & belly ring are all apart of his style. Those were the reasons
Ryan: There's a funny story behind the contacts too! (Ask me later)
Me: Ok r u high right now??? LoL
Ryan: No, making soup
Probably soup with weed in it...
Me: Well I'm just telling u what I perceived but I'm glad u cleared it up 4 me. My friend has all of those piercings!!! And contacts n every color LoL just b aware when a dude tries 2 brush up on ya lol
Ryan: It's actually happened B4 (dudes hittin on me that is)...
No shit Sherlock!
Me: I'm glad u c what I mean; men hitting on u lol
Ryan: ................ It all makes sense now...
10 minutes and half a bowl of weed soup later...
Ryan: WAIT - hoop earrings are gay???
Ryan: Damn, somebody forgot to send me the memo!
Ryan: So would u be willing to chill some other time? I PROMISE I won't bring up any of my smoking habits! Although I'm not really sure what 2 expect, I'd like 2 see u more often than once every 2 years, lol.
Me: Maybe...I have finals coming up so my time is limited. U still didn't answer my ? About u saying u were uncomfortable. U didn't explain??
Ryan: Well, I remember meeting u through that traitor Genise and I remember you being a really cool person. Guess I wasn't sure if it was a DATE or just 2 old friends going out, that's all. You were lookin' GOOD last night btw! My mind was all over the place.
The End.
If you don't have a blackberry get one! and if you have one but don't utilize your blackberry messenger, please do so! Saving a chat and emailing it to yourself is golden.
Me: Next, & I may not b privy to this information but once I thought hard about it I had to ask, r u bisexual? It's nothing wrong w/it all. It's just there were a few things that went unmentioned but not unnoticed. I'm cool either way. Just thought I'd ask.
20 minutes later...
Ryan: Ugh, accidently erased what I was saying! Gimmie a min...
Me: Ok. Cool
Ryan: I didn't mean for you to feel uncomfortable in any way, my bad. I can completely understand where you're coming from and I wouldn't wanna be in the passenger seat if I was in your position.. It was VERY little :-/
Ryan: And I didn't mean to bring it up so often. U should'a just pointed me out on it + told me to STFU, j/k. Guess I'm use to hangin' around people who are smokers I guess.
Ryan: And the GAY thing really threw me off, but for some reason I got a good laugh out of it...
Me: Ok thx 4 understanding. I appreciate it. I guess next time I will tell u stfu lol but I just want u 2 b able 2 function...that's it
Ryan: If I seemed uncomfortable to u in any way it was b/c I was... Don't mean that in a bad way @ all. U're really a great person, just didn't know what 2 expect i guess.
Me: What do u mean by uncomfortable??
Ryan: Once I find a job I'll be strait. Really frustrated about not finding anything out there.. So wait, there's a next time? Hmmm....
At this point, I'm slamming the phone on the couch and yelling "FUCK!"
Ryan: U gotta explain the gay thing to me first. I'm finding this interesting. And I'm glad you're being honest w/ me.
Me: The reason I questioned ur sexuality was bc I have a very close gay friend & he looks like u... the baby girl hoop earrings, colored contacts, tongue piercing, & belly ring are all apart of his style. Those were the reasons
Ryan: There's a funny story behind the contacts too! (Ask me later)
Me: Ok r u high right now??? LoL
Ryan: No, making soup
Probably soup with weed in it...
Me: Well I'm just telling u what I perceived but I'm glad u cleared it up 4 me. My friend has all of those piercings!!! And contacts n every color LoL just b aware when a dude tries 2 brush up on ya lol
Ryan: It's actually happened B4 (dudes hittin on me that is)...
No shit Sherlock!
Me: I'm glad u c what I mean; men hitting on u lol
Ryan: ................ It all makes sense now...
10 minutes and half a bowl of weed soup later...
Ryan: WAIT - hoop earrings are gay???
Ryan: Damn, somebody forgot to send me the memo!
Ryan: So would u be willing to chill some other time? I PROMISE I won't bring up any of my smoking habits! Although I'm not really sure what 2 expect, I'd like 2 see u more often than once every 2 years, lol.
Me: Maybe...I have finals coming up so my time is limited. U still didn't answer my ? About u saying u were uncomfortable. U didn't explain??
Ryan: Well, I remember meeting u through that traitor Genise and I remember you being a really cool person. Guess I wasn't sure if it was a DATE or just 2 old friends going out, that's all. You were lookin' GOOD last night btw! My mind was all over the place.
The End.
If you don't have a blackberry get one! and if you have one but don't utilize your blackberry messenger, please do so! Saving a chat and emailing it to yourself is golden.
No, I'm Not Dead
It’s been a year since I’ve written anything and had enough guts to publish it. I made the mistake of letting my blog become privy to certain classmates, and lets just say...some folk are too sensitive for the subject matter.
So all of a sudden I became this passive-aggressive person who was too scared to write shit about people’s relationships and sex lives and just gave up on the blog. Not to mention school got a little too hectic to write about sex or lack thereof.
But I’m back…like for real for real.
Not much has changed. I’m in my last semester of law school, yay! I’m still single. And yes, I still loathe baby on board stickers.
I’ve been writing in my diary like overload, but some of those thoughts are too dark and Adele on repeat-ish to reveal.
2008 came and went. I spent New Years in Atlanta and the resolution was to “stop enabling folk”. How’d that shit go? Pretty darn well I'd have to say. Lost a few friends and family members, but all in all I feel good about my actions.
So for 2010, the resolution is to work on becoming MORE “self-aware” (as though self-awareness has infinite levels to achieve). I’m almost 25 and about to step into the real world. No more school. No more “Mommy can I borrow some money because financial aid hasn’t hit yet”.
No more childhood (@ a low volume, this is when MJ’S Childhood would come in…“Have you seen my childhood?”).
Guess it’s time to grow the fuck up. Pay back these student loans. Take come state’s bar exam. Get a salary job (with benefits, oh my!). Who knows…maybe I’ll even get fucked on the wall this year, eh?
So all of a sudden I became this passive-aggressive person who was too scared to write shit about people’s relationships and sex lives and just gave up on the blog. Not to mention school got a little too hectic to write about sex or lack thereof.
But I’m back…like for real for real.
Not much has changed. I’m in my last semester of law school, yay! I’m still single. And yes, I still loathe baby on board stickers.
I’ve been writing in my diary like overload, but some of those thoughts are too dark and Adele on repeat-ish to reveal.
2008 came and went. I spent New Years in Atlanta and the resolution was to “stop enabling folk”. How’d that shit go? Pretty darn well I'd have to say. Lost a few friends and family members, but all in all I feel good about my actions.
So for 2010, the resolution is to work on becoming MORE “self-aware” (as though self-awareness has infinite levels to achieve). I’m almost 25 and about to step into the real world. No more school. No more “Mommy can I borrow some money because financial aid hasn’t hit yet”.
No more childhood (@ a low volume, this is when MJ’S Childhood would come in…“Have you seen my childhood?”).
Guess it’s time to grow the fuck up. Pay back these student loans. Take come state’s bar exam. Get a salary job (with benefits, oh my!). Who knows…maybe I’ll even get fucked on the wall this year, eh?
Monday, January 26, 2009
Recovering Insomniac
I’m such a dreamer, but I’m not an optimistic dreamer, which probably makes me a nightmarer…if there ever were such a thing.
I really try to not over analyze things.
People.
Statements.
Secret vacations.
But I can’t help it. So when Sex goes off at 2am, I’m stuck with the thoughts of YOU and YOUR foolish ways.
And those thoughts carry on into REM, and I’m faced with colorless nightmares of YOU and HER.
or YOU and HIM...
But I miss sleep. I miss being optimistic. I miss when things were easy. Before WE complicated OUR lives with briefs, cases, court, jail, jailees, trustees, trials, 5 hour shots, Starbucks, 7 Eleven, supplements, educated drama.
I miss when YOU weren’t pure but were manageable. But now YOU'RE a mess and my dreams have become just like YOU.
I miss sleep. But I miss YOU. However, right now my sleep is more important than the memories of YOU and I.
So GOODNIGHT and GOODBYE.
I really try to not over analyze things.
People.
Statements.
Secret vacations.
But I can’t help it. So when Sex goes off at 2am, I’m stuck with the thoughts of YOU and YOUR foolish ways.
And those thoughts carry on into REM, and I’m faced with colorless nightmares of YOU and HER.
or YOU and HIM...
But I miss sleep. I miss being optimistic. I miss when things were easy. Before WE complicated OUR lives with briefs, cases, court, jail, jailees, trustees, trials, 5 hour shots, Starbucks, 7 Eleven, supplements, educated drama.
I miss when YOU weren’t pure but were manageable. But now YOU'RE a mess and my dreams have become just like YOU.
I miss sleep. But I miss YOU. However, right now my sleep is more important than the memories of YOU and I.
So GOODNIGHT and GOODBYE.
What Does It All Really Mean?
I was reading an issue of Cosmo and it included an article on what men say but what they really mean. It was interesting; a little disturbing but a good read nonetheless.
We all have a tendency to say one thing yet mean another. But what happens when the prerequisite Reading Between the Lines 101 is not enough to pass Interacting With the Other Sex.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have this tendency (but who doesn’t?).
For instance: “Whatever”. Which means, “I don’t give a fuck and will handle "it" on my own time”.
Which really means, “I’ll never handle the situation but want this painful lecture to end before I throw up and swallow”.
Its funny how the one-worded phrase, “Whatever” can mean a variety of things when uttered and turn into something completely different once a person is released from the peril that caused the situation to become just whatever and not something more.
I just wish that I could read between the telephone receiver and figure out what the hell you meant when you ended the conversation with, “I don’t know what it is. I’ve been hurt before. I just need time.”
Huh? What happened to a simple, "Goodnight, sleep tight," A.K.A "Wish I was there to keep you up all night".
So dude, what does it mean, “Don’t call me again"?
Or does it actually mean, “Please remain patient with me. I really enjoy your company, but I’m damaged goods and need time to heal. Yet in the time of healing, I’d love to get to know you better.”
Or worse, does it just mean, “Whatever”.
I’d rather be fed a three-syllable word than hear another man drone on about how he’s been hurt in the past (boo fucking hoo) and just needs time to heal.
Uhh…hello! Having your heart chipped away slightly does not mean you have to shut down and wreak havoc upon every woman you encounter. Or shut down and never reopen again.
It means the piece of your heart she stole is gone and it’s hers. It will always be hers (even though she disposed of it last year with the help of two new friends).
It means that you are not whole, but you are not incomplete.
And that what is remaining IS enough to try and let US be more than a simple, “Whatever”.
So please say what you mean and mean what you say…and if, “I need time” means, “I’m not over HER, she still has a hold on me and I’m passing time with you until she returns” than say just that.
Because yours isn’t the only chipped heart in this quasi relationship.
We all have a tendency to say one thing yet mean another. But what happens when the prerequisite Reading Between the Lines 101 is not enough to pass Interacting With the Other Sex.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have this tendency (but who doesn’t?).
For instance: “Whatever”. Which means, “I don’t give a fuck and will handle "it" on my own time”.
Which really means, “I’ll never handle the situation but want this painful lecture to end before I throw up and swallow”.
Its funny how the one-worded phrase, “Whatever” can mean a variety of things when uttered and turn into something completely different once a person is released from the peril that caused the situation to become just whatever and not something more.
I just wish that I could read between the telephone receiver and figure out what the hell you meant when you ended the conversation with, “I don’t know what it is. I’ve been hurt before. I just need time.”
Huh? What happened to a simple, "Goodnight, sleep tight," A.K.A "Wish I was there to keep you up all night".
So dude, what does it mean, “Don’t call me again"?
Or does it actually mean, “Please remain patient with me. I really enjoy your company, but I’m damaged goods and need time to heal. Yet in the time of healing, I’d love to get to know you better.”
Or worse, does it just mean, “Whatever”.
I’d rather be fed a three-syllable word than hear another man drone on about how he’s been hurt in the past (boo fucking hoo) and just needs time to heal.
Uhh…hello! Having your heart chipped away slightly does not mean you have to shut down and wreak havoc upon every woman you encounter. Or shut down and never reopen again.
It means the piece of your heart she stole is gone and it’s hers. It will always be hers (even though she disposed of it last year with the help of two new friends).
It means that you are not whole, but you are not incomplete.
And that what is remaining IS enough to try and let US be more than a simple, “Whatever”.
So please say what you mean and mean what you say…and if, “I need time” means, “I’m not over HER, she still has a hold on me and I’m passing time with you until she returns” than say just that.
Because yours isn’t the only chipped heart in this quasi relationship.
Beef & Swine + Fran= An Upset Friendship
A long lost friend called me last night. It was so weird. Like we used to hang really tight and out of nowhere things just ended.
There was no animosity. No argument. No return of belongings.
Conversation just ceased….until now.
Turns out there was animosity, but she was too proud and too confused about her own feelings to have an argument with me.
It’s been so long I couldn’t even recall the events that let to our demise (such a dramatic word!). She explained it happened in Tampa…at a bar-b-que joint…or the bowling alley…I said something hurtful…or not…she took offense to it…and just stopped talking to me.
I sat on the phone in silence. Celebrities adorned in diamonds and couture flashed before my eyes from the tube, but I couldn’t process what she was saying. All I could think about was that the guy from House has a freaking English accent!! WTF?
She explained that she had decided to cut me off.
Huh?
So if I was cut, why didn’t I know? Or suspect?
It was ironically funny. Someone I considered a close friend, who knew almost everything and was there whenever I needed her, had cut me out of her life between Temple Terrace and our long I-4 drive back home.
A semester passed, we graduated…yet I had no clue that I was dismissed for an entire season!
So what does it all mean? Maybe that I stopped needing her or that she stopped needing me. Maybe she realized she knew enough about me and was no longer interested in learning more. Maybe we matured, became serious about the next steps we required in life and grew up.
But how can you not even notice being cut from the team if being a player was that important to you! And who was my fucking replacement?!?
I’m not even upset with her. I’m just confused. I just wish she had discussed with me almost three years ago while I was driving Ellie Mae that she was upset. That it wasn’t the ribs and pulled pork that had her stomach in a knot; it was ME. And that she was going to cut meat and ME out of her life for good (or until it was deemed necessary).
She’s returned to her carnivorous lifestyle and we agreed to keep in touch. I still don’t get it, but perhaps cleaning her system required ridding ME from her diet as well…
There was no animosity. No argument. No return of belongings.
Conversation just ceased….until now.
Turns out there was animosity, but she was too proud and too confused about her own feelings to have an argument with me.
It’s been so long I couldn’t even recall the events that let to our demise (such a dramatic word!). She explained it happened in Tampa…at a bar-b-que joint…or the bowling alley…I said something hurtful…or not…she took offense to it…and just stopped talking to me.
I sat on the phone in silence. Celebrities adorned in diamonds and couture flashed before my eyes from the tube, but I couldn’t process what she was saying. All I could think about was that the guy from House has a freaking English accent!! WTF?
She explained that she had decided to cut me off.
Huh?
So if I was cut, why didn’t I know? Or suspect?
It was ironically funny. Someone I considered a close friend, who knew almost everything and was there whenever I needed her, had cut me out of her life between Temple Terrace and our long I-4 drive back home.
A semester passed, we graduated…yet I had no clue that I was dismissed for an entire season!
So what does it all mean? Maybe that I stopped needing her or that she stopped needing me. Maybe she realized she knew enough about me and was no longer interested in learning more. Maybe we matured, became serious about the next steps we required in life and grew up.
But how can you not even notice being cut from the team if being a player was that important to you! And who was my fucking replacement?!?
I’m not even upset with her. I’m just confused. I just wish she had discussed with me almost three years ago while I was driving Ellie Mae that she was upset. That it wasn’t the ribs and pulled pork that had her stomach in a knot; it was ME. And that she was going to cut meat and ME out of her life for good (or until it was deemed necessary).
She’s returned to her carnivorous lifestyle and we agreed to keep in touch. I still don’t get it, but perhaps cleaning her system required ridding ME from her diet as well…
General is Never General Enough
Having this blog is like a virtual diary. Now, I don’t know how much privacy that leaves me, but I look at each entry as random thoughts that include life lessons I’ve learned from personal experience or from pure observation.
Its out there for everyone to read...even my friends. When I told Faye I had given the web address to a few friends, she scolded me. Her advise was that friends should NEVA read your blog because they take everything personally and next thing you know shit pops off.
Well, shit has popped off…
When you read an entry, read it for enjoyment. Don’t critique my verbiage, my grammar, or my lack of sexual insight. Don’t read between the lines and attempt to morph the nouns used into YOU.
If I wanted to discuss your sloppy ways, I’d use your name. And if I didn’t give two shits about your ass, I’d use your real name.
If you feel salty about an entry, perhaps it’s because you realize that in many ways, the nouns I refer to resemble you. But that is an issue with the man/woman in the mirror; NOT me.
I write about things I hear in passing. Things I view in the media or just know exist, and disgust me to the point where I must rant for a few paragraphs to purge myself.
I have no judgment for anyone. Do you. Do him. Do her.
But in the process of doing what you enjoy, realize that everything that feels good isn’t good for you. Sometimes your vices, your weaknesses, your addictions affect those around you. Those who are tired of the same shit. Tired of the stagnant lifestyle you call fabulous, and only desire for you to wake the fuck up and realize that perhaps you (NOT HIM) are the problem.
So, if you have read an entry and feel salty, please discuss your feelings with me so we can determine if your wounds were caused unintentionally yet carelessly by myself, or worse are self inflicted.
Its out there for everyone to read...even my friends. When I told Faye I had given the web address to a few friends, she scolded me. Her advise was that friends should NEVA read your blog because they take everything personally and next thing you know shit pops off.
Well, shit has popped off…
When you read an entry, read it for enjoyment. Don’t critique my verbiage, my grammar, or my lack of sexual insight. Don’t read between the lines and attempt to morph the nouns used into YOU.
If I wanted to discuss your sloppy ways, I’d use your name. And if I didn’t give two shits about your ass, I’d use your real name.
If you feel salty about an entry, perhaps it’s because you realize that in many ways, the nouns I refer to resemble you. But that is an issue with the man/woman in the mirror; NOT me.
I write about things I hear in passing. Things I view in the media or just know exist, and disgust me to the point where I must rant for a few paragraphs to purge myself.
I have no judgment for anyone. Do you. Do him. Do her.
But in the process of doing what you enjoy, realize that everything that feels good isn’t good for you. Sometimes your vices, your weaknesses, your addictions affect those around you. Those who are tired of the same shit. Tired of the stagnant lifestyle you call fabulous, and only desire for you to wake the fuck up and realize that perhaps you (NOT HIM) are the problem.
So, if you have read an entry and feel salty, please discuss your feelings with me so we can determine if your wounds were caused unintentionally yet carelessly by myself, or worse are self inflicted.
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