Two times a year 2am does not exist, forcing the loss of a moment, I want to live in that hour. So effortlessly erased, catapulted into the universe as we continue to exist. All things happen according to plan. There is scientific reason for this “Saving of the Daylight” and I enjoy the mystery in living in that hour. Somewhere out there with a multitude of “sprung forwards” and “left behinds”. Free to my thoughts, actions and lifestyle. All of the minutes graciously collected for me, a world built upon diverted occurrences. The vagueness in the hour entices me.
What could have happened leading to what could have been if the change of a clock did not alter my time.
Maybe the loss of an hour saved a soul, just as the gain of one hour gave perfection to a plan. Things, moments and people are given and taken away. You give me an hour and just as you take it I feel the same. Only my surroundings have changed. Darkness and Daylight are toggled around me. An alter universe rotating on the hour, living in the transgression of absolute exchange. A continuous orbit in unchanging time, I have my hour, my hour stuck at the point of transference. The clock strikes “hour” and I continue. Savings for you translates to my eternity. A desire to be completely intertwined in the nanoseconds of the seconds that build the minutes of my hour becomes irresistible. Longing to experience 60 lost minutes in one second creates an unappeasable interest in the lucidness of saved time. 1:59 to 3am and my clock strikes “hour” 1:59 to 1am my clock strikes the same. What would life be like living in this hour? I can tell you it is truly divine, two times per year I envision this hour, my life in this hour and I love it.
Showing posts with label I'll Drank to That. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I'll Drank to That. Show all posts
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
I Wouldn't Call it Intuition
I am sure we have all had that period of time in our lives where we just felt like “a storm was a comin” or felt that what we were doing was “dead ass wrong” etc. Some say its intuition, some say common sense no matter what you call it - it happens, pay attention to it. I have the problem of ignoring it confusing it with the hate of the devil himself, not the one I bore children by, the big dog, Lucifer Jenkins. I mean really, Lucifer has no reason to hate on anyone, why would he waste his time setting people up for downfalls? What joy would he get from watching the likes of us crumble? Makes no sense at all.
It is not L. Jenkins fucking with our actions it is our action of ignoring our gut feelings that make us crumble. Wait, let me stop including my readers in my bull shit. I am so sick and tired of vocally expressing my gut feelings only to be shunned like an Amish Whore. I could keep them to myself but at what cost? My sanity? When I blew the whistle on the unspoken rule to carry shells my love life diminished, my sex life went to desert storm and my sanity returned only to battle with my insanity. They are at neck and neck right now I must add. I am taking bets in the comment section.
Not only do I feel as if I will soon be welcomed into my new padded home with complimentary little pills twice a day, I also feel like I will never ever ever ever ever ever ever be able to have a relationship. I am so fucking sick of self sabotage. Get thee behind me satan, I mean Get the behind me ignorance of gut feelings. What the hell am I supposed to do? Sure I curse love for filth at every chance I get, yes I am an active member of the Down with Love up with Hate Crimes Ensemble and no I do not plan to spend more money on a wedding than a divorce. So why why why is this punk heifer inside of me longing to actually be involved? I, well we (Juanita, Sherylle and Shells) see the fuckery that is called “relationship” We have lived through three in our life time. I want to go into tantrum mode, instead I will give an example of why I go cross eyed when gawked at by men and why the arch in my foot itches whenever I hear…. Well let me get on with my example.
As you all know by now I have two children by the devil in carnet. I also do not like to go into anything by way of deceit. So I am honest. Maybe too honest at times, to keep matters semi private I cannot go into detail but I can give a brief rundown of the happenings.
I opened up enough to tell someone the truth about my situation and why I feel that it would be a defeatable challenge for me to get involved. Me doing that was a huge hurdle, similar to the destruction of the infamous wall on Brewster Place. Why did I do it you ask? Because I actually give a fuck. There I said it, I fucking care and thought that I could take the steps necessary to prepare for a companion. Boy o muther fucking boy was I wrong!
Sit down for his response, I will not be sued from you fainting and hitting your heads on shit.
“Well, if that’s how you feel then I am sexually attracted to you, if anything we could be like, friends with benefits.”
Please send your condolences to my Post Office Box.
My fucking love life is over. Diminished. I really am destined for mason jars, rocking chairs and Faberge Egg collections, sitting on top of my doily collection, inside of my china cabinets from around the world collection…. In my fucking double wide trailer.
In fact 10 tears have fell from my eyes while typing this, I am in mourning. Have you a clue how hard it is for me to actually open up and let you in? On top of that actually prepare for an actual companion?
Microwave bammas I swear.
I guess its back to my slow cooker and living my life one day at a time……
Starting over is hard enough, maybe I’ll blog that one tomorrow. Maybe.
Mrs. B
It is not L. Jenkins fucking with our actions it is our action of ignoring our gut feelings that make us crumble. Wait, let me stop including my readers in my bull shit. I am so sick and tired of vocally expressing my gut feelings only to be shunned like an Amish Whore. I could keep them to myself but at what cost? My sanity? When I blew the whistle on the unspoken rule to carry shells my love life diminished, my sex life went to desert storm and my sanity returned only to battle with my insanity. They are at neck and neck right now I must add. I am taking bets in the comment section.
Not only do I feel as if I will soon be welcomed into my new padded home with complimentary little pills twice a day, I also feel like I will never ever ever ever ever ever ever be able to have a relationship. I am so fucking sick of self sabotage. Get thee behind me satan, I mean Get the behind me ignorance of gut feelings. What the hell am I supposed to do? Sure I curse love for filth at every chance I get, yes I am an active member of the Down with Love up with Hate Crimes Ensemble and no I do not plan to spend more money on a wedding than a divorce. So why why why is this punk heifer inside of me longing to actually be involved? I, well we (Juanita, Sherylle and Shells) see the fuckery that is called “relationship” We have lived through three in our life time. I want to go into tantrum mode, instead I will give an example of why I go cross eyed when gawked at by men and why the arch in my foot itches whenever I hear…. Well let me get on with my example.
As you all know by now I have two children by the devil in carnet. I also do not like to go into anything by way of deceit. So I am honest. Maybe too honest at times, to keep matters semi private I cannot go into detail but I can give a brief rundown of the happenings.
I opened up enough to tell someone the truth about my situation and why I feel that it would be a defeatable challenge for me to get involved. Me doing that was a huge hurdle, similar to the destruction of the infamous wall on Brewster Place. Why did I do it you ask? Because I actually give a fuck. There I said it, I fucking care and thought that I could take the steps necessary to prepare for a companion. Boy o muther fucking boy was I wrong!
Sit down for his response, I will not be sued from you fainting and hitting your heads on shit.
“Well, if that’s how you feel then I am sexually attracted to you, if anything we could be like, friends with benefits.”
Please send your condolences to my Post Office Box.
My fucking love life is over. Diminished. I really am destined for mason jars, rocking chairs and Faberge Egg collections, sitting on top of my doily collection, inside of my china cabinets from around the world collection…. In my fucking double wide trailer.
In fact 10 tears have fell from my eyes while typing this, I am in mourning. Have you a clue how hard it is for me to actually open up and let you in? On top of that actually prepare for an actual companion?
Microwave bammas I swear.
I guess its back to my slow cooker and living my life one day at a time……
Starting over is hard enough, maybe I’ll blog that one tomorrow. Maybe.
Mrs. B
Monday, July 19, 2010
Shots, Preachers, Mistresses and Bacon
I wanted to blog about this and that and all types of things that have been happening as of late yet each and every time I sat down to write I would get distracted.
I was left with bits and pieces of everything from poetry to recipes…. I am proud to say that I am about 300 words into my short story collection…. Maybe I should spice up the literary world by publishing a collection of handwritten shit. Just because I am too lazy to type. Hey, that has a nice ring to it……
So here it is….. my ummmm, usual random vent blog… Enjoy
Taking Shots
Not back shots of course, I mean shots of that joy juice that gets me all ready to do tha hanky panky, tumble with the bundle…… you know “make hay” well recently I discovered the untrue side to a “bar myth.” There is no such thing as “Beer Goggles” That whole little phrase is a pure crock of shit. I say this because I went on a buffer meet for a friend of mine and not only was the guy unattractive from the start, after about 3 drinks he became repulsively unattractive. I was surrounded by unattractive men. Then again I was in Baltimore. Wait I take that back, I have seen a few “catches” here and there, in this instance I may have been invited out to the “unattractive guy’s watering hole” (UGWH)Nevertheless that whole Beer Goggles thing is nothing but a got damn scapegoat to ease the shame and guilt one would feel when facing one’s fling sober. Wait, I guess it’s not a pure crock of shit after all, I’ll drop the pure and just call it a crock…….
Assume
I just had to throw this in here, as I was leaving the Unattractive Guy’s Watering Hole I took a few moments to gather myself in the parking lot. While sitting there fighting back my tears of repulsion a rather “schwanky” BMW pulled into the lot…. You could faintly make out the silhouette of a bouffant style hairdo, leading one to think “there are women in this BMW” ahh hemm, it is 2010……… There was a group of about 7 or so members of the UGWH standing off to the side, they began to cat call and one said aloud, “I’m trying to ride with whoever is driving” From my position I could see that the car was occupied by a man and a woman, or was it? The scene was straight out of Belly, I was just waiting for the dusty chirren to run along side of the car in hopes of seeing their favorite celebrity. I got that in a sense, just replace the dusty chirren with dusty menfolk and there you have it….
So the car sat, by this time I am curious as to just how the hopeful fellow would do with getting the drivers information. I just had to see their reaction when this couple got out of the car. So I sat, cursing myself for not choosing a cell phone with a backlight and flash --- Hell - to each his own – whatever tickles your fancy ---- Like a flash, out jumps The winner and 1st runner up to Rupaul’s Drag Race --- But not really, yes two flaming gay men exited the vehicle, one in complete drag (honey chile was fierce) and one in a Metro Sexuals Finest – Skinny Jeans, Skinny Vest, Man bag and Mandals ---- Boy oh boy them dudes scattered like roaches, the shit was hilarious, I even heard faint sounds of regurgitation – I swear I did. Hey that’s what happens when you assume – you make an ass out of who??
The Preacher Man
There is an abundance of Reverends here in the Baltimore area. Is this a new trend? I do believe I have met 4 Preacher Men in the last few weeks. This is creeping me out. This is either
1. A sign from the lord up above that I need prayer and someone to lay hands on me.
or
2. A sign from the lord up above that I need prayer and for someone to lay hands on me.
Either way all of them mother fuckers have side talked prayer and laying hands on me --- unholy sinful ass bitches.*church clap*
I Blame it on the Warden
When in the hell did I go to sleep and wake up in the Trailer Park Zone? I am no Jerry Springer Alumni – I do not know the proper way to visit a man in prison without waiting in a long line. I have no clue as to the ETA’s of “jail buses” and a good amount of change for visiting room snacks. I am no lady waiting so do not treat me as such. I will keep the rest of my comments under wraps out of the fear that them “boys” may get me…. I’m fragile
The Baby Momma Collection
I am not sure who sings/raps this song but all I hear in the background as I type is “all these niggas and all these bitches” It has a “west coast” vibe to it. I do not feel like going on google, aside from the fact that a mere inquiry to lyrics.com damn near shut down my whole computer via porn pop ups, ha! I just don’t feel like it. Talk about awkward, imagine that call to Information Technology *hubba- hubba* luckily they were fully aware of this virus attempt and I was not the only one to experience it.
I shall now be a BING girl.
Moving on, these dudes and their haute couture summer 2010 baby momma lines are getting quite out of hand. I had the unthinkable happen, I was approached by a rather slovenly gentleman inquiring about child birth. Yes childbirth, apparently since I have a car seat in my vehicle his “baby mommas” and I have something in common. So much in common that I was respectfully invited to have his next child, he has a goal. He’s at baby number six and he informed me that he wants to father 10 children just like his pappy did……. I am torn, do I curse him for filth because of his blatant disregard to the values that come with childbirth or do I commend the poor lad for setting a goal and sticking to it?? Needless to say I left him confused and rethinking his approach towards women.
This to my fellow Baltimore Women, “you’re welcome” – Hey, it coulda been you
In closing I would just like to re-iterate the fact that although I have been blessed with girlish looks I am not interested in you, you half married bastard. Besides, just as the value of marriage has dropped so has the value of a mistress.
I would also like to say that I am in no way shape or form interested in eating like a Muslim. The next person I meat (pun intended) that tries to sway my bacon preferences will be made an example of. I do not wish to live my life porkless and bowing however many times a day in whatever direction so that my children can be abundantly giftless at Christmas time. If you were offended tough titties, I take offense in your slander of the other white meat.
Good Day Folks,
Mrs. B
I was left with bits and pieces of everything from poetry to recipes…. I am proud to say that I am about 300 words into my short story collection…. Maybe I should spice up the literary world by publishing a collection of handwritten shit. Just because I am too lazy to type. Hey, that has a nice ring to it……
So here it is….. my ummmm, usual random vent blog… Enjoy
Taking Shots
Not back shots of course, I mean shots of that joy juice that gets me all ready to do tha hanky panky, tumble with the bundle…… you know “make hay” well recently I discovered the untrue side to a “bar myth.” There is no such thing as “Beer Goggles” That whole little phrase is a pure crock of shit. I say this because I went on a buffer meet for a friend of mine and not only was the guy unattractive from the start, after about 3 drinks he became repulsively unattractive. I was surrounded by unattractive men. Then again I was in Baltimore. Wait I take that back, I have seen a few “catches” here and there, in this instance I may have been invited out to the “unattractive guy’s watering hole” (UGWH)Nevertheless that whole Beer Goggles thing is nothing but a got damn scapegoat to ease the shame and guilt one would feel when facing one’s fling sober. Wait, I guess it’s not a pure crock of shit after all, I’ll drop the pure and just call it a crock…….
Assume
I just had to throw this in here, as I was leaving the Unattractive Guy’s Watering Hole I took a few moments to gather myself in the parking lot. While sitting there fighting back my tears of repulsion a rather “schwanky” BMW pulled into the lot…. You could faintly make out the silhouette of a bouffant style hairdo, leading one to think “there are women in this BMW” ahh hemm, it is 2010……… There was a group of about 7 or so members of the UGWH standing off to the side, they began to cat call and one said aloud, “I’m trying to ride with whoever is driving” From my position I could see that the car was occupied by a man and a woman, or was it? The scene was straight out of Belly, I was just waiting for the dusty chirren to run along side of the car in hopes of seeing their favorite celebrity. I got that in a sense, just replace the dusty chirren with dusty menfolk and there you have it….
So the car sat, by this time I am curious as to just how the hopeful fellow would do with getting the drivers information. I just had to see their reaction when this couple got out of the car. So I sat, cursing myself for not choosing a cell phone with a backlight and flash --- Hell - to each his own – whatever tickles your fancy ---- Like a flash, out jumps The winner and 1st runner up to Rupaul’s Drag Race --- But not really, yes two flaming gay men exited the vehicle, one in complete drag (honey chile was fierce) and one in a Metro Sexuals Finest – Skinny Jeans, Skinny Vest, Man bag and Mandals ---- Boy oh boy them dudes scattered like roaches, the shit was hilarious, I even heard faint sounds of regurgitation – I swear I did. Hey that’s what happens when you assume – you make an ass out of who??
The Preacher Man
There is an abundance of Reverends here in the Baltimore area. Is this a new trend? I do believe I have met 4 Preacher Men in the last few weeks. This is creeping me out. This is either
1. A sign from the lord up above that I need prayer and someone to lay hands on me.
or
2. A sign from the lord up above that I need prayer and for someone to lay hands on me.
Either way all of them mother fuckers have side talked prayer and laying hands on me --- unholy sinful ass bitches.*church clap*
I Blame it on the Warden
When in the hell did I go to sleep and wake up in the Trailer Park Zone? I am no Jerry Springer Alumni – I do not know the proper way to visit a man in prison without waiting in a long line. I have no clue as to the ETA’s of “jail buses” and a good amount of change for visiting room snacks. I am no lady waiting so do not treat me as such. I will keep the rest of my comments under wraps out of the fear that them “boys” may get me…. I’m fragile
The Baby Momma Collection
I am not sure who sings/raps this song but all I hear in the background as I type is “all these niggas and all these bitches” It has a “west coast” vibe to it. I do not feel like going on google, aside from the fact that a mere inquiry to lyrics.com damn near shut down my whole computer via porn pop ups, ha! I just don’t feel like it. Talk about awkward, imagine that call to Information Technology *hubba- hubba* luckily they were fully aware of this virus attempt and I was not the only one to experience it.
I shall now be a BING girl.
Moving on, these dudes and their haute couture summer 2010 baby momma lines are getting quite out of hand. I had the unthinkable happen, I was approached by a rather slovenly gentleman inquiring about child birth. Yes childbirth, apparently since I have a car seat in my vehicle his “baby mommas” and I have something in common. So much in common that I was respectfully invited to have his next child, he has a goal. He’s at baby number six and he informed me that he wants to father 10 children just like his pappy did……. I am torn, do I curse him for filth because of his blatant disregard to the values that come with childbirth or do I commend the poor lad for setting a goal and sticking to it?? Needless to say I left him confused and rethinking his approach towards women.
This to my fellow Baltimore Women, “you’re welcome” – Hey, it coulda been you
In closing I would just like to re-iterate the fact that although I have been blessed with girlish looks I am not interested in you, you half married bastard. Besides, just as the value of marriage has dropped so has the value of a mistress.
I would also like to say that I am in no way shape or form interested in eating like a Muslim. The next person I meat (pun intended) that tries to sway my bacon preferences will be made an example of. I do not wish to live my life porkless and bowing however many times a day in whatever direction so that my children can be abundantly giftless at Christmas time. If you were offended tough titties, I take offense in your slander of the other white meat.
Good Day Folks,
Mrs. B
Thursday, May 13, 2010
V-Diaries: Why Do Men Cheat?
A true soldier in he own right, sista girl SONCERAE went into the fiery pits of man hell and asked the age old question, “why men cheat” I was lucky enough to be asked to view the video she posted as a result of her asking men (and I use that term loosely) of all ages this question. Me being the anti relationship/male bashing stay single fuck these lying ass negras advocate that I am Yall know I gotta weigh in on this topic, I can sum up my theory on why men cheat with one word…… Reassurance
Men need to constantly be reminded that their wangs can fit into holes. Ahh their forgetfulness is neither here nor there when it comes down to relationship status. Hey fellas it’s easy, if you think it fits it fits – Ur wang is of a cylinder shape her cooch is of a circular shape.
That is subliminally placed into your head in pre-school sir, remember these
Men need to constantly be reminded that their wangs can fit into holes. Ahh their forgetfulness is neither here nor there when it comes down to relationship status. Hey fellas it’s easy, if you think it fits it fits – Ur wang is of a cylinder shape her cooch is of a circular shape.
That is subliminally placed into your head in pre-school sir, remember these
Even still we have the hard headed (no pun intended) ones that just won’t commit the shit to memory. So they keep the why men cheat question in circulation. All the answers on this video are pretty much a crock of shit, WAIT - I will let you all be the judge, feel free to view and continue reading.........
A crock of hot lies mixed with hotel soap scum and paper trail hoe shit.
A crock of post club hard on what does cooch feel like again oh I better test my wang in case it shape shifted doesn’t matter if I have a significant other at home helping my selfish ass through life shit ---
There needs to be a mini reminder segment that pops up after each quarter of his favorite sport.
“Hey You there, penis stand --- I’m of a cylinder shape homie, guess what, your side piece got a vagina just like you girl does…. It’s true, all women have vaginas… It’s been proven. There is no need for you to continue testing the theory.” “your side chick is readily available because she is not focused on taking care of your home/children, she’s focused on pure penetration, stop neglecting the homemaker and realize your whore stays prepped for wang while wifey stays prepped for life…” ~Sincerely yours, the Penis Association
It should also continuously run on monitors in restrooms, gas stations, brothels, freezer aisles at grocery stores, shoe stores and pharmacies. Until they get the point, hell any woman with a big ass should be mandated to have a mini LCD run across her derriere….. They are looking there anyway, well according the first few guys in this video they are ---
Hey it doesn’t have to be a fancy schmancy message it could simply read
“we all have these”
That’s simple enough, right?
Then again maybe it should say
“boys have penises and girls have vaginas”
That way they won’t be so prone to investigate……
Men need reassurance, they want to feel wanted just as much as we do…. They may have a lady at home taking care of business; him, the children, bills, working, cleaning house all that. Fuck you if you think she supposed to answer the door positioned for doggy style after all that shit. Bitch you put down the dumb shit to make the babies put down the dumb shit to concentrate on aiding in their being raised. Fuck, I’m tired of seeing young men in skinny jeans, balls all tight and shit – Because of yall’s lack of guidance the next generation’s sperm count is gon be near non-existent. Daddy too busy running around doing hole checks like that shit comes with a 401 K and Aetna --- We humans are in danger of extinction because needy ass penis stands can’t be satisfied with one woman.
Sure you can get the side piece prego but shit, after a certain age yall gon be birthing mentally/physically challenged mini humans. Why the fuck should that happen?
As I roll my eyes and stomp my feet in anger you all should check out SONCERAE’S youtube at www.youtube.com/sonceraefan
Oh and both men and woman can go here to get a subscription to her magazine
Block Dymez Magazine ---
http://www.blockdymezmagazine.com/
I think it would make a great stocking stuffer, let’s go back to the good old days when men touched their no – no spots in the bathroom while the ball and chain is busy getting ready for the next day. It will save on gas and RX co pays, you can be at home, have the big O and contribute in the banishment of all things skinny jeans related.
Ur Welcome,
Mrs. B
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Raheem Avery De Mayo
I have no idea what the Chinese stuff says
I say it says Raheem…… Yall don’t know either so nan!
I heart Raheem DeVaughn AKA My Shugg Avery ----
So Raheem DeVaughn is a 5th of May baby….. A Taurus. That explains the whole Kung Fu grip incident at Sharpie Gate.
I wonder how old he’s turning
I bet he’s timeless
I bet there is no birth year on his certificate of birth --
When I woke up this morning I felt a small pang of glee in honor of Cinco De Mayo (the next best holiday to New Year’s Eve) and I wondered exactly how many reasons I had to get wasted, then I checked my calendar……. VIOLA thanks shugg and parents for giving me reason number 124 ---- Just when I think I can’t drink another sip, I’ma throw that last shot back, dance me a jig and pass the fuck out to the sweet soothing sounds of Raheem DeVaughn aka My Shugg Avery……
I don’t care if Margaret side eyes the shit outta me everytime I call him this,
she gots to learn to share. (Yes I see her in my thoughts, she tells me how pretty my smile is.)
Because he gon always be my wittle Shugg Avery, ya hear that Co. ? ALWAYS
Nothing but a near death experience can keep me from it ---- 
So in honor of your Birthday I got you a virtual cake --- It’s red velvet, 
I ate a piece, I got hungry typing this up, oh and shugg, it's divine ---
I also got you a virtual gift-card to Target, I’m on a budget….
I picked this one because you seem like an animal lover......
I also got you a virtual CD, it's Jay Z’s Blueprint 13 --- (be honored, this isn’t set to drop for years to come…don’t leak any songs either, he has joined forces with the creole connection)
And last but not least, I got you and annoying ass ecard but I don’t have your email, soooo I sent it to myself instead, In honor of you of course…………
Enjoy ur day Shugg!!!!
~Mrs. B
Friday, February 26, 2010
Men are Like Cake
So Ms. Juanita (Baby Boy) had it right, or should I say delivered it right. I am sure that she is not the first to say this and I am certain that I am not the first to actually agree with it.
When you in love with a man,
he can make you feel high.
So high you just be in outer space.
But a man can also make you feel low.
Real low. And he can keep you there.
Keep you down.
If you let him.
Men can make you feel high and I of all people know that they can make you feel low. In all reality men are just like things, they are just like stuff……. Nothing more or nothing less. Before I go on I would like to say that I am sure the “yall women this – yall females that” is coming. Please miss my comment section with that bull shit. Until I sprout a penis and begin to think with it I will continue to blog on the bias.
As I laid in my comfy bed last night I began to think about past relationships and food then my thoughts drifted to past relationships and items…… then out of the blue I began to think of past relationships and employment. One thing that remained consistent with my thoughts were “past relationships” and from that I began to realize just how much men reminded me of stuff in general.
Let’s use cake as an example shall we, I absolutely love love love red velvet cup cakes, cake - anything red velvet. I’d even devour the armadillo cake from Steel Magnolias if I could---- Sometimes I get in the mood for a good old slice or three of cake and as I eat it I feel mmm mmm good, devine, pure euphoria at an orgasmic level. With each bite I sing in my head “I’m eating caakeeee I’m eatttinnng cakkke” and I love it! I gain a few pounds and I see the glass as half full, thick thighs are fine, who cares? Then there are days when I am in a funk, nothing can console me so I do what? I eat cake. Only this time it’s different, these are not happy bites, these are bites of punishment full of remorse, no songs in my head, no tapping of the foot just plain old chewing and hating each and every second of my life. I think “why am I doing this to myself, this cake doesn’t make me happy.” I make me happy – no matter my mood this cake remains the same. I brought myself to this cake, it did not come to me…. It has not forced me to partake in its sweet velvety goodness. This is completely my doing and for what? Just to have a bit of what I like. Just to regret the fact that my waistline is on maternity because of my desire? I am sure by now you are twisting your nose like WTF does cake have to do with men, well I’ll tell ya. It can make me feel high and it can make me feel low. WRONG, I can make me feel high and I can make me feel low. No matter how I feel or what I do that hunk of cake remains the same, it comes off different according to my situation.
As with men. Let’s talk about Satan, There were times when he made me feel like the best thing since sliced bread, I’m just taking it all in…. shucking and a jiving to his beat then on the flip side this same dude would make me feel like the shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe. To who’s fault? None other than my own……. I chose to dance to the good and cry at the bad, all the while he never changed, that was just him. He had his good times and he had his bad times I was the deciding factor in my serenity. It was up to me to choose if I would deal with it and strap up for the roller coaster ride or hop off at the next exit because I knew the results of each mood. There is no changing a man, who’d mess with the perfect Red Velvet Cake recipe? Can you make it better? And if you do then it’s not the same cake that you fell in love with, is it new and improved? Nope not at all. The end result will still leave you full of satisfaction or full of regret. It’s the same damn cake! It’s the same damn man!
Just like shopping, you could spend - spend - spend and remain happy with your purchases, even through bill time! Or you can spend – spend - spend and hate looking into your closet because the articles of clothing take on the hues of final notices. Either way the sport stayed the same, you decided when to go in. You decided what to purchase fully aware of the consequences, this is not your first time completing transactions you are a grown ass woman that has been shopping for years. You my friend are all too familiar with the layout of your favorite store or website. Just as familiar as you are with that man.
Employment doesn’t fall too far from this, life is in fact what you make it. Some folks have been stuck in dead end jobs for years, from one to the next yadda yadda – you know what to expect from this type of employment yet you do nothing to put yourself in a better position. Instead you punch in – punch out – play your numbers and hope for a miracle rescue win. Before you know it the amount of your losing lotto tickets are equivalent to a down payment on your dream home… Your state’s lotto is rolling in dough and your sitting at home scamming on a bag of weed to help spark your creativity because “one day” you gon make it……. Again, just like a man…. How much more will you put into a relationship, (whatever type of relationship it may be) before you realize you’re fucking a damn receipt book?
Look at me rambling – I could go on and on… I just had to get this off of my chest, now it’s time for a slice of cake…. Some light online shopping and a quickie…………..
Mrs. B
When you in love with a man,
he can make you feel high.
So high you just be in outer space.
But a man can also make you feel low.
Real low. And he can keep you there.
Keep you down.
If you let him.
Men can make you feel high and I of all people know that they can make you feel low. In all reality men are just like things, they are just like stuff……. Nothing more or nothing less. Before I go on I would like to say that I am sure the “yall women this – yall females that” is coming. Please miss my comment section with that bull shit. Until I sprout a penis and begin to think with it I will continue to blog on the bias.
As I laid in my comfy bed last night I began to think about past relationships and food then my thoughts drifted to past relationships and items…… then out of the blue I began to think of past relationships and employment. One thing that remained consistent with my thoughts were “past relationships” and from that I began to realize just how much men reminded me of stuff in general.
Let’s use cake as an example shall we, I absolutely love love love red velvet cup cakes, cake - anything red velvet. I’d even devour the armadillo cake from Steel Magnolias if I could---- Sometimes I get in the mood for a good old slice or three of cake and as I eat it I feel mmm mmm good, devine, pure euphoria at an orgasmic level. With each bite I sing in my head “I’m eating caakeeee I’m eatttinnng cakkke” and I love it! I gain a few pounds and I see the glass as half full, thick thighs are fine, who cares? Then there are days when I am in a funk, nothing can console me so I do what? I eat cake. Only this time it’s different, these are not happy bites, these are bites of punishment full of remorse, no songs in my head, no tapping of the foot just plain old chewing and hating each and every second of my life. I think “why am I doing this to myself, this cake doesn’t make me happy.” I make me happy – no matter my mood this cake remains the same. I brought myself to this cake, it did not come to me…. It has not forced me to partake in its sweet velvety goodness. This is completely my doing and for what? Just to have a bit of what I like. Just to regret the fact that my waistline is on maternity because of my desire? I am sure by now you are twisting your nose like WTF does cake have to do with men, well I’ll tell ya. It can make me feel high and it can make me feel low. WRONG, I can make me feel high and I can make me feel low. No matter how I feel or what I do that hunk of cake remains the same, it comes off different according to my situation.
As with men. Let’s talk about Satan, There were times when he made me feel like the best thing since sliced bread, I’m just taking it all in…. shucking and a jiving to his beat then on the flip side this same dude would make me feel like the shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe. To who’s fault? None other than my own……. I chose to dance to the good and cry at the bad, all the while he never changed, that was just him. He had his good times and he had his bad times I was the deciding factor in my serenity. It was up to me to choose if I would deal with it and strap up for the roller coaster ride or hop off at the next exit because I knew the results of each mood. There is no changing a man, who’d mess with the perfect Red Velvet Cake recipe? Can you make it better? And if you do then it’s not the same cake that you fell in love with, is it new and improved? Nope not at all. The end result will still leave you full of satisfaction or full of regret. It’s the same damn cake! It’s the same damn man!
Just like shopping, you could spend - spend - spend and remain happy with your purchases, even through bill time! Or you can spend – spend - spend and hate looking into your closet because the articles of clothing take on the hues of final notices. Either way the sport stayed the same, you decided when to go in. You decided what to purchase fully aware of the consequences, this is not your first time completing transactions you are a grown ass woman that has been shopping for years. You my friend are all too familiar with the layout of your favorite store or website. Just as familiar as you are with that man.
Employment doesn’t fall too far from this, life is in fact what you make it. Some folks have been stuck in dead end jobs for years, from one to the next yadda yadda – you know what to expect from this type of employment yet you do nothing to put yourself in a better position. Instead you punch in – punch out – play your numbers and hope for a miracle rescue win. Before you know it the amount of your losing lotto tickets are equivalent to a down payment on your dream home… Your state’s lotto is rolling in dough and your sitting at home scamming on a bag of weed to help spark your creativity because “one day” you gon make it……. Again, just like a man…. How much more will you put into a relationship, (whatever type of relationship it may be) before you realize you’re fucking a damn receipt book?
Look at me rambling – I could go on and on… I just had to get this off of my chest, now it’s time for a slice of cake…. Some light online shopping and a quickie…………..
Mrs. B
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Expulsion
Hello out there!! I haven’t been posting lately because I am tired of the repetitive “I hate everything” blogs that I “paxadently” produce. I really do not hate everything per say, just the bulk of every molecule in existence.
Spirit world included
And the underworld for that matter
I do know that my dysfunctional past has a bunch to do with my outlook on life, which is sad really.
Too bad I am a born grudge-holder.
I am not capable of “letting go” as easily as others. I tend to hold on to things, both good and bad for months even years and I am convinced that my stash spot is full!
Hence - the monstrous headaches that I have been enduring for the last few weeks, off and on for hours on end. No amount of DC’s finest or Excedrin could take my pain away! This has got to stop, through this I see an outlet and it’s conveniently titled – expulsion.
Yes it has taken me one too many headaches to realize my actions are unhealthy. I must “expel” my disdain towards “whatever” into the universe. Not under the guise of a rant or vent, not to be confused with a confession or a rage fueled temper tantrum – no not at all. This and future expulsions will (and I use that term loosely) be as pure as a born again virgin, as fresh as a newly signed rap artist, as innocent as a husband visiting his ex-girlfriend ----SCRATCH <--- you see guys that anger just leaks out all willy nilly. Why did I type that? Why are these evil thoughts in my head? Here I am attempting to ever so gently “expel” my angers, my disdains, all that I loathe and the beings that I have come to wish death upon into the universe …….. I mean really………. what gives?
Is there a secret serum that can rid me of these hindrances? Maybe I can get one of those candles from the grocery store with the prayers on the side……. …
Or maybe I can just live my life according to the theme song to “The Facts of Life”
An excerpt for your reading pleasure, feel free to sing along:
You take the good, you take the bad,
you take them both and there you have
The Facts of Life, the Facts of Life.
There's a time you got to go and show
You're growin' now you know about
The Facts of Life, the Facts of Life.
When the world never seems
to be livin up to your dreams
And suddenly you're finding out
the Facts of Life are all about you, you.
Mrs. B
Spirit world included
And the underworld for that matter
I do know that my dysfunctional past has a bunch to do with my outlook on life, which is sad really.
Too bad I am a born grudge-holder.
I am not capable of “letting go” as easily as others. I tend to hold on to things, both good and bad for months even years and I am convinced that my stash spot is full!
Hence - the monstrous headaches that I have been enduring for the last few weeks, off and on for hours on end. No amount of DC’s finest or Excedrin could take my pain away! This has got to stop, through this I see an outlet and it’s conveniently titled – expulsion.
Yes it has taken me one too many headaches to realize my actions are unhealthy. I must “expel” my disdain towards “whatever” into the universe. Not under the guise of a rant or vent, not to be confused with a confession or a rage fueled temper tantrum – no not at all. This and future expulsions will (and I use that term loosely) be as pure as a born again virgin, as fresh as a newly signed rap artist, as innocent as a husband visiting his ex-girlfriend ----SCRATCH <--- you see guys that anger just leaks out all willy nilly. Why did I type that? Why are these evil thoughts in my head? Here I am attempting to ever so gently “expel” my angers, my disdains, all that I loathe and the beings that I have come to wish death upon into the universe …….. I mean really………. what gives?
Is there a secret serum that can rid me of these hindrances? Maybe I can get one of those candles from the grocery store with the prayers on the side……. …
Or maybe I can just live my life according to the theme song to “The Facts of Life”
An excerpt for your reading pleasure, feel free to sing along:
You take the good, you take the bad,
you take them both and there you have
The Facts of Life, the Facts of Life.
There's a time you got to go and show
You're growin' now you know about
The Facts of Life, the Facts of Life.
When the world never seems
to be livin up to your dreams
And suddenly you're finding out
the Facts of Life are all about you, you.
Mrs. B
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
"Don'ts"
In my haste to be done with everything I forgot to be done with everything. This makes sense to me and you too if you can relate to my contradiction filled, mundane existence—Here I am wrapped up in the construction of my checklist of “don’ts” and I realized that I have been putting damn near all of my energy in exactly what I told myself I had to banish to the fiery pits of hell, never to be thought of again.
La-la-la-la-la, don’t do this, get rid of that, stop buying this, block the email, don’t eat that anymore, throw those away, clean that up, take that back, don’t you call him, stay from over there, La-la-la-la-la
These thoughts cloud my head each day. It’s not that I am procrastinating it’s that I literally develop at least 5 new don’ts a week…… it’s sickening even. I try something new and develop hatred towards at least one part of it. I noticed this on a recent outing with a Texan fellow – We had dinner, I didn’t even enjoy the good in the dish, I ate to taste the bad in the dish, what it was missing, how it could have been better, how I could improve on someone else’s recipe…. Pure Grinch like behavior. I don’t do it on purpose, it’s as if I have been taken over by the creator/s of The Sour Patch Kids.
If only I could master the art of grudges, the essence of banishment, the true act of zero tolerance – imagine that, me, she who rids herself of all thingsunholy unsheli with ease, as opposed to repetitively coaching herself to do so. Some of this can be blamed on my pushover-like tendencies, there I said it – I have a soft side. Not to be confused with a Charmin like softness though, when comparing to paper products I’d say my softness is equivalent to cardboard. I could be completely done with something at 11:45 am and by 2pm I’m thinking of reasons why I shouldn’t be. Contradiction at its finest.
I need a sponsor, someone to aide me in being done with something for good. I can admit my weakness, that’s the first step to recovery right?
Mrs. B
La-la-la-la-la, don’t do this, get rid of that, stop buying this, block the email, don’t eat that anymore, throw those away, clean that up, take that back, don’t you call him, stay from over there, La-la-la-la-la
These thoughts cloud my head each day. It’s not that I am procrastinating it’s that I literally develop at least 5 new don’ts a week…… it’s sickening even. I try something new and develop hatred towards at least one part of it. I noticed this on a recent outing with a Texan fellow – We had dinner, I didn’t even enjoy the good in the dish, I ate to taste the bad in the dish, what it was missing, how it could have been better, how I could improve on someone else’s recipe…. Pure Grinch like behavior. I don’t do it on purpose, it’s as if I have been taken over by the creator/s of The Sour Patch Kids.
If only I could master the art of grudges, the essence of banishment, the true act of zero tolerance – imagine that, me, she who rids herself of all things
I need a sponsor, someone to aide me in being done with something for good. I can admit my weakness, that’s the first step to recovery right?
Mrs. B
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Universe Please Take These Thoughts From My Head - -
Happy Thursday to each and every one of you, I am feeling the need to release yet another rant into the universe. After all, this is the best way for me to cope with my unrealistic selfish ways. I am too lazy to act out and throw tantrums. That takes energy that I would much rather put into extracurricular activities. I don’t have the time to analyze where I stand, or should stand in certain relationships. Be it personal or work related. The best that I can do is exist. This is not to be confused with a stagnant Shells going about a depressing day to day routine in hopes of a miracle, what I mean is I can only be me in all of my glory till death us do part…. Hell, even then I may stick around to get a laugh out of spookin folks.
As most of you are aware I am not a chameleon AT ALL. I can’t do the whole “change up” when certain folks come around, hence my short lived plight with corporate America. I mean really, I am what I’m working with. That’s it and that’s all. Just me.
Let’s see what else, oh me and my “lonely’ as I call it. Or is it my lonely and I? Well either way I am learning to control my lonely. The best way for me to explain this is - I get dangerously lonely sometimes, as we all do. With that comes boredom and I am liable to start fires just to see response times and what not, okay not that serious but you get my drift right? It’s even harder when Sheli wants company but Juanita wants to be alone. Most times I just throw a few shots back and let Sherylle decide. That way I don’t have to choose sides. Menfolk don’t always understand my need for attention which is understandable seeing as how most times I am only in contact for my benefit. The problem comes in when someone slaps them with the “clue stick” and my antics are discovered. That’s always a blower.
When a conversation with you feels like pulling teeth it’s time for me to hike up my dungarees and skidaddle. In no way am I going to force myself upon you. It’s not my fault that you do not realize the blessing that has been bestowed upon you in the form of my presence – that’s your loss. All I can do is neatly tuck the memory of you inside my hope chest and pray that one day you will get a clue, where’s the “clue stick” in this instance huh? Take it how you want it, I’m just not really into the whole thing anymore. Even though the available applicants are few and far between, I am going to go ahead and give it a try. I think at least deserve the luxury of random phone calls. Damn.
I really hate the whole “in a relationship” thing when people use it to their advantage. I actually fell for a guy that did this on the regular, until I realized that all he does is “spin records” and possibly penises. Yeah I deserve a drink or two.
Missing a few of my old flames. I can-not believe I just typed that. In all honesty I am actually missing someone. Someone must have spiked the coffee and not with khalua! Someone spiked it with stupid serum or something, either that or my inner desperate woman is screaming for attention. I say this because the flames that I speak of have each played an intricate part in my decision to request the banishment of all males between the ages of 25-34 from Sheli’s World.
The end, I think
Mrs. B
As most of you are aware I am not a chameleon AT ALL. I can’t do the whole “change up” when certain folks come around, hence my short lived plight with corporate America. I mean really, I am what I’m working with. That’s it and that’s all. Just me.
Let’s see what else, oh me and my “lonely’ as I call it. Or is it my lonely and I? Well either way I am learning to control my lonely. The best way for me to explain this is - I get dangerously lonely sometimes, as we all do. With that comes boredom and I am liable to start fires just to see response times and what not, okay not that serious but you get my drift right? It’s even harder when Sheli wants company but Juanita wants to be alone. Most times I just throw a few shots back and let Sherylle decide. That way I don’t have to choose sides. Menfolk don’t always understand my need for attention which is understandable seeing as how most times I am only in contact for my benefit. The problem comes in when someone slaps them with the “clue stick” and my antics are discovered. That’s always a blower.
When a conversation with you feels like pulling teeth it’s time for me to hike up my dungarees and skidaddle. In no way am I going to force myself upon you. It’s not my fault that you do not realize the blessing that has been bestowed upon you in the form of my presence – that’s your loss. All I can do is neatly tuck the memory of you inside my hope chest and pray that one day you will get a clue, where’s the “clue stick” in this instance huh? Take it how you want it, I’m just not really into the whole thing anymore. Even though the available applicants are few and far between, I am going to go ahead and give it a try. I think at least deserve the luxury of random phone calls. Damn.
I really hate the whole “in a relationship” thing when people use it to their advantage. I actually fell for a guy that did this on the regular, until I realized that all he does is “spin records” and possibly penises. Yeah I deserve a drink or two.
Missing a few of my old flames. I can-not believe I just typed that. In all honesty I am actually missing someone. Someone must have spiked the coffee and not with khalua! Someone spiked it with stupid serum or something, either that or my inner desperate woman is screaming for attention. I say this because the flames that I speak of have each played an intricate part in my decision to request the banishment of all males between the ages of 25-34 from Sheli’s World.
The end, I think
Mrs. B
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Ken's Dream House
Hello readers, this is just a quick rant from yours truly. Being single has it’s advantages just as it’s disadvantages. Sure I love the fact that I can have my pick on who I spend my free time with, that’s always lovely. Not to mention the fact that I can practice the (ode to Destiny’s Child) “when it’s all over please get up and leave” I just have a problem with the drought thing. What’s a girl to do when in drought? This is a tricky thing, drought will have you looking at men that you would otherwise disregard as an “irregular” product headed for the Marshalls rack as if they were that brand new pair of Fall Boots at your favorite shoe store. Drought will have you giving out your real phone number and then cursing yourself when he calls. DROUGHT will have you calling up past lays that you swore off for getting on top of you to do some damn push ups as opposed to hittin that shit like NAS in Belly –
Damn it I want me a KEN doll, Monica your theory has proven to be needed in this here world of ours. I want to apply for a government grant so that I can renovate one of these damn abandoned Baltimore row houses and turn it into Ken’s damn dream house, fuck a barbie house. I wanna stock that shit with Xbox 360’s, PS3’s, Hot Pockets, Laptops, red kool-aid, flat screen tv’s, porn, submarine sandwiches, scarface mixtapes, marijuana, white liquor, dark liquor, futons and tide.
That’s all I ask. I just wanna keep my Ken dolls occupied and rotate them accordingly.
Mrs. B
Damn it I want me a KEN doll, Monica your theory has proven to be needed in this here world of ours. I want to apply for a government grant so that I can renovate one of these damn abandoned Baltimore row houses and turn it into Ken’s damn dream house, fuck a barbie house. I wanna stock that shit with Xbox 360’s, PS3’s, Hot Pockets, Laptops, red kool-aid, flat screen tv’s, porn, submarine sandwiches, scarface mixtapes, marijuana, white liquor, dark liquor, futons and tide.
That’s all I ask. I just wanna keep my Ken dolls occupied and rotate them accordingly.
Mrs. B
Monday, December 7, 2009
30 and Under Accomplished
I woke up feeling thirty this morning………
As you all know I neatly tucked my 30 and over club card inside my wallet on this past Sunday. Then came the sulking, not just because I am actually 30 years old – I sulked in honor of the years that have flashed right on by me without recognition. Thanks to the great genes of my ancestors I don’t look a day over 25. I am sure we have all thought back on our childhood and the aspirations that were once a driving force in our lives. Last night I did a little more than think back on my childhood, in a sense I explored it. I sat and thought back to my days at John Burroughs Elementary and how much I really hated damn near everyone in the school. Sure children are cruel and friendships aren’t actually solidified in those years but I really hated the fact that I had to go to this place Monday through Friday and spend time with children that I didn’t quite care for. Don’t get me wrong I did have a few friends, I just would have liked to attend school on my terms. As I am sure all of us did.
I thought about the days on the playground, little instances in the lunch line, the first time I joined the cheerleading squad. The little things, I laughed about the time that I was upset because I had to share my birthday cake with the class. I went home in a tizzy! The time that, well I’ll call him JB used eat my paste in Mrs. Golden’s class… I remembered my first best friend Camille, we lost touch, I wondered how she is doing and couldn’t for the life of me think of her last name. Some BFF I am huh? I remembered having sleepovers with my second BFF Jay as we call her now and how I used to practice doing curls on her hair. I thought about the assemblies and recess, family day and me not having a care in the world. I also remembered my days “down south” as they call it. My fifth and half of sixth grade years in Charleston and McClelanville. The snakes drove me crazy and my dad drove me back home. Right back to the same place like I never missed a beat. I really cracked up at my Jheri Curl years, I actually doubled over in tears.
Fast Forward to Junior High School – good old Taft Junior High School, there were good times like my first out of town field trip, the cheerleading squad, Umoja Dance Team and learning to play the flute. Then there were bad times like my first real fight, adjusting to multiple classes and my re-introduction to In School Suspension. This is where I really started to dream. I wanted to be an actress/choreographer/artist, live in a studio apartment in Brooklyn and be married with children by 35. Well one out of three ain’t bad. I remembered daydreaming about hosting my own talk show and chuckling to myself as I pictured various classmates as my guests. I would go over the questions in my head and envision them giving their answers. I’d do that with teachers and students just the same. My favorite was Ms. Mary. She taught us art. Everything she taught me I would go home and teach my neighbors and little cousins. Kind of like Nettie and Celie, without Mister. I would ask her about her schooling and when she developed her passion for art, stuff like that.
Langdon Park Pool and Recreational center then popped into my head. This is where I met the father of my children. Go-figure. This is where I developed a passion for writing. This is also where my dreams were slowly replaced with forced grown up decision making and real life issues. A dreamer without guidance is like a mobilized car without a driver. Just going along crashing into shit, destroying itself and everything in it’s path until it finally crashes and hopes for the best. I thought back on the many of days and nights that I spent down there. Everything from the teen clinic, the kick boxing club, cheerleading and swimming lessons went through my head. All of the things that one would have though to be a driving force did nothing more for me than occupy my time. Why because I never really appreciated it until now.
Oh the High School Years, whew I didn’t know where to start reminiscing. Hell I went to four different high schools. Those years are somewhat a blur, only because I pretty much went into practicing herbal remedies full time as opposed to channeling my energy into something much more. Again a child without guidance – At this age my dreams had pretty much dissipated. I graduated pregnant and I really didn’t have the nerve to dream anymore. While a small amount of my classmates filled out college applications I was completing Medicaid and WIC forms. Others were off to work while I prepped for labor and delivery. My father was disappointed in me, my sibling contact was few and far between and the father of my child was one french fry short of a happy meal, make that two french fries short. There I was the big dreamer. Literally.
Don’t confuse this as a pity blog, trust and believe I have learned from all of this. I just thought I’d share my thoughts from last night. Of course they were way more detailed, I didn’t want to write a book though. I guess what I want to say is pursue, I am thankful that I am here to ensure that my children pursue and I am also thankful that my life went the way it did so that I can actually break the chain instead of chipping away at it.
Whew that was a long one,
-- Mrs. B
As you all know I neatly tucked my 30 and over club card inside my wallet on this past Sunday. Then came the sulking, not just because I am actually 30 years old – I sulked in honor of the years that have flashed right on by me without recognition. Thanks to the great genes of my ancestors I don’t look a day over 25. I am sure we have all thought back on our childhood and the aspirations that were once a driving force in our lives. Last night I did a little more than think back on my childhood, in a sense I explored it. I sat and thought back to my days at John Burroughs Elementary and how much I really hated damn near everyone in the school. Sure children are cruel and friendships aren’t actually solidified in those years but I really hated the fact that I had to go to this place Monday through Friday and spend time with children that I didn’t quite care for. Don’t get me wrong I did have a few friends, I just would have liked to attend school on my terms. As I am sure all of us did.
I thought about the days on the playground, little instances in the lunch line, the first time I joined the cheerleading squad. The little things, I laughed about the time that I was upset because I had to share my birthday cake with the class. I went home in a tizzy! The time that, well I’ll call him JB used eat my paste in Mrs. Golden’s class… I remembered my first best friend Camille, we lost touch, I wondered how she is doing and couldn’t for the life of me think of her last name. Some BFF I am huh? I remembered having sleepovers with my second BFF Jay as we call her now and how I used to practice doing curls on her hair. I thought about the assemblies and recess, family day and me not having a care in the world. I also remembered my days “down south” as they call it. My fifth and half of sixth grade years in Charleston and McClelanville. The snakes drove me crazy and my dad drove me back home. Right back to the same place like I never missed a beat. I really cracked up at my Jheri Curl years, I actually doubled over in tears.
Fast Forward to Junior High School – good old Taft Junior High School, there were good times like my first out of town field trip, the cheerleading squad, Umoja Dance Team and learning to play the flute. Then there were bad times like my first real fight, adjusting to multiple classes and my re-introduction to In School Suspension. This is where I really started to dream. I wanted to be an actress/choreographer/artist, live in a studio apartment in Brooklyn and be married with children by 35. Well one out of three ain’t bad. I remembered daydreaming about hosting my own talk show and chuckling to myself as I pictured various classmates as my guests. I would go over the questions in my head and envision them giving their answers. I’d do that with teachers and students just the same. My favorite was Ms. Mary. She taught us art. Everything she taught me I would go home and teach my neighbors and little cousins. Kind of like Nettie and Celie, without Mister. I would ask her about her schooling and when she developed her passion for art, stuff like that.
Langdon Park Pool and Recreational center then popped into my head. This is where I met the father of my children. Go-figure. This is where I developed a passion for writing. This is also where my dreams were slowly replaced with forced grown up decision making and real life issues. A dreamer without guidance is like a mobilized car without a driver. Just going along crashing into shit, destroying itself and everything in it’s path until it finally crashes and hopes for the best. I thought back on the many of days and nights that I spent down there. Everything from the teen clinic, the kick boxing club, cheerleading and swimming lessons went through my head. All of the things that one would have though to be a driving force did nothing more for me than occupy my time. Why because I never really appreciated it until now.
Oh the High School Years, whew I didn’t know where to start reminiscing. Hell I went to four different high schools. Those years are somewhat a blur, only because I pretty much went into practicing herbal remedies full time as opposed to channeling my energy into something much more. Again a child without guidance – At this age my dreams had pretty much dissipated. I graduated pregnant and I really didn’t have the nerve to dream anymore. While a small amount of my classmates filled out college applications I was completing Medicaid and WIC forms. Others were off to work while I prepped for labor and delivery. My father was disappointed in me, my sibling contact was few and far between and the father of my child was one french fry short of a happy meal, make that two french fries short. There I was the big dreamer. Literally.
Don’t confuse this as a pity blog, trust and believe I have learned from all of this. I just thought I’d share my thoughts from last night. Of course they were way more detailed, I didn’t want to write a book though. I guess what I want to say is pursue, I am thankful that I am here to ensure that my children pursue and I am also thankful that my life went the way it did so that I can actually break the chain instead of chipping away at it.
Whew that was a long one,
-- Mrs. B
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Randomness Anyone?
I woke up this morning and decided that it is high time that I post a blog on here. I really don’t have a main topic or any key talking points, I pretty much just want to get some things off my chest.
Let’s see where do I begin?
Do I start with my expected male bashing or a good old fashioned workplace rant? Should I expose some undercover perverts, shout my love for Kobe’ Beef from the mountain tops, list my do’s and don’ts of fall men fashions and end this with a nice drink recipe for you and your significant other?
Yes you are right, too many questions. Since when have I actually cared what people wanted me to talk about? This here my blog joint and I am just going to fill this post with as much “inappropriate jargon” (I love that phrase) that I can muster up for the day. Enjoy.
Dating When You Have a Child, Girl Child or Boy Child – It Doesn’t Even Matter and the Undercover Perverts That Live Among Us.
This is a scary thing, how in the hell do we determine who is safe to be around our children? Some may say the usual criminal background check or good old fashioned intuition. I say although these methods have proven reliable in the past there is also the possibility of meeting someone pre-pervert, pre-molestation charges, pre-murder rap, pre-robbery conviction etc. Which solidifies the fact that you never really know somebody- For example, I am not a killer but- (you know the rest) and given the situation I may just have someone thinking damn, I never thought ‘ol Shells would have done that person like that. Hence meeting someone pre pervert and what not.
So in the end I say just don’t bring anyone around your chirren unless you are physically and mentally prepared for the trials and tribulations of getting to really know them. Hell all you really need out of a relationship is sex anyway – have casual relations and keep it moving. This way you won’t have the possibility of fainting while cooking breakfast and watching the news when your latest fling’s sketch illuminates your screen while he or she is dressing your children for school. Trust me you will thank me later.
My Love for All Things Kobe’ Beef
Will never end. I don’t care who or what situation shall arise my love for my dear Kobe’ will never cease. I love you and all of your beefiness – shout out to creativity.
One last thing…..
Fall Men Fashions
Should not consist of fitted slacks, jeans, shirts, sweaters, blazers or draws. The only thing fitted should be your cap. There is a fine line between tailored and fitted – discover it and go gracefully my dear Manchild.
Oh and the drink of the evening shall be…..
The BONECRUSHER
You will need;
1/2 oz gin1/2 oz vodka1/2 oz triple sec1/2 oz rum1/4 oz grenadine syrup1/4 oz Rose's® lime juice2 oz sweet and sour mix1 oz Champagne
Combine all ingredients (except Champagne) in a cocktail shaker and shake vigorously. Pour into a tall glass, preferably a pint glass or large brandy snifter with ice, and float the champagne on top with a squeeze of lemon. Throw on your best pair of imnotdoinshit sweats, click on the TV and relax to the sweet soothing images of syndicated television!
Mrs. B
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Thirsty Thursday's Drank of the day is
The French Cosmopolitan
ooohh la la we we
INGREDIENTS
1/2 oz Grand Marnier Orange Liquor
1/2 oz Sweet and Sour Mix
1/2 oz Cranberry Juice
1/4 oz Fresh Lime Juice
1 drop Grenadine Syrup
INSTRUCTIONS
Pour all ingredients (except grenadine) into a shaker, shake well and strain into a large martini glass. Pour a drop of grenadine into the middle of the glass and let it fall to the bottom. Garnish with a slice of lime and throw it back! I suggest you make like five of these from the start because martini glasses are small as hell.............. You could go hood with it and pour the stuff straigh into a red cup but it will take away from the ambiance.
Happy Drankin
Mrs. B
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
TIPSY TUESDAY'S DRINK RECIPE IS
None other than the "Hot Toddy"
Just in time for all this chill that we have "on tha outside" If you are like me and single by the forces of nature you may wanna check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays to get a peek of what you too can cuddle up with at night.
Ingredients
1 oz Brandy, Whiskey or Rum
1 tbsp Honey
1/4 of a lemon
1 cup hot water
1 tea bag <-- I make my own "hubba hubba"
To Prepare
Coat the bottom of mug with honey
Add the liquor and the juice of the lemon quarter
Heat water in a tea kettle and add the bag to make hot tea
Add the tea to the mug and get your Tipsy Tuesday on!
You can garnish with stuff like lemon slices and cinnamon sticks but trust me by drink three you'll jus tbe tossing them back!
You're Welcome
Mrs. B
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