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

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

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

The Side Dish

I wrote this blog months ago, I felt the need to repost this in effort to help out a dear friend of mine that is on the verge of becoming the vegetable of a meat eater………..

So here it goes – this one’s for you girlie!

I wanted to blog today so that I can get some insight on my most recent dilemma. I am sure you have all guessed by now that I have been seeing someone. Well sort of. Let me explain a little about me. I am stingy and selfish, I hate liars and I must get my way. I throw random temper tantrums from the smallest mishaps and I love to smoke cigarettes and drink alcohol. That about sums me up.

This is what I see when I step outside of myself and take a gander at this Sheli person.

Which is why I feel the need to express how I, Sheli, almost ended up as the side chick.

I was on the plate and I almost made it to the table

I mean really, picture me as the string beans! The freaking mashed potatoes and gravy, the corn on the fucking cob, the got damn succotash, the damn asparagus sprinkled with hollandaise sauce, the fucking peas and carrots, the baked macaroni and chee---- wait I don't mind being some bomb ass baked macaroni and cheese –ah hem, my point being – I am the main chick damn it! I don't give two shits about anyone else once I come into play! Call it what you want as long as you call it! My relevance is so necessary.

Let me explain my madness

You may have multiple folks you are dealing with - lets say three. Not necessarily sleeping with them all but these three are the closet thing to you outside of family. Now out of the three there is one that you are head over heels for, the other two are relevant but you really don't care if they ever call or come again, the problem is those are the two that are trying to wife/husband your ass! All the while the keeper really doesn't have time for you. So what do you do? You entertain yourself with fillers. Yes the other two are kept around to compensate for what you want but don't have, you trick yourself into believing they are worth your time. These two combined do everything that you want the keeper to do. Pure misery. Fuckery at it's best. The fillers can do whatever the hell they want with whoever the hell they want but that keeper, oohhh that keeper had better not stray cause then it's gonna be some smoke in the city!

This shit is so fuckin twisted yall, pure selfishness because yeah you may have that one main guy or girl with your fillers on the side and it's fine, because it's you, but man o man why in the hell do you get so fucking pissed when you find out your main guy or girl has a filler or two of his or her own?

Okay on to my point. I started out in this dudes life as filler, which is fine cause he filled plenty 'o nights 'o mine but I'm sayin though, how the fuck you gon attempt to pull the wool over my nosey ass eyes? I know everything damn it! I fucking birthed the next generations Wendy Williams for Pete's sake! The whole no time for Sheli thing is coming to light, either way it goes I don't want to be around for the outcome. Some folks are not cut out for the whole main girl side chick thing because they are weak

Guy A + girls B, C and D = Guy A is chasing girl B
Girl B + guys E, F and G = Girl B is chasing guy E
Guy E + girls H, I and J = Guy E is chasing girl H - And so forth and so on,

A fucking circle. I think I need new shoes

As long as you enter someone's life as filler you will never become the main one. There is always gonna be the one that is truly wanted in the back of their mind and if and when their time comes your ass is gonna be back at the filling station. (If you allow it) It's all or nothing with me, which is totally hypocritical. I can even take it to the whole "do as I say and not as I do thing" Yeah I am having an issue.

I am a woman scorned damn it, there is a mile long list of issues that I have with even the smallest form of commitment. I am sure that dudes have issues as well but I am more important than you damn it!

I need a shrink – I want to vent to someone that gets paid to evaluate me and give me medication prescriptions.

I did a blog about filler once; don't get me wrong they are nice to have. Especially in the winter, but it's when you come across that filler with potential that things get all messy and shit.

I hope this helped - -


Mrs. B

These Grown Ass Children Are Getting On My NERVES!

What the fuck is wrong with you? I have heard of “bi-polar” and all but umm in all my years on God’s green earth I have never met a “tri-polar” I guess I could use the term MPD, nah, fuck that it’s my blog and I like the way “tri-polar” rolls off the tongue. Yall know Mrs. B will self-sabotage the fuck out of a situation and I can honestly say that I had nothing to do with it this time. All I did was say how I felt, since when is that wrong? I mean if my POV is not cool with you then you need to look up the word my. If from the outside you portray a jay chain smoking, stagnant, hypocritical, no goal having, stuck in the past stick in the mud then that’s more than likely what you are. How dare you accuse me of being misinformed? Have you no shame……….. What in the hell were you thinking when the first lie you told me came out your mouth? As if I were dumb enough to believe it! Hmpf! you owe me an apology! Hell you owe me some extra months on my life span, we can work a deal though, seeing as how I chose to continue to entertain myself with you I am willing to sit down and talk about it-

I am not even quite sure how to approach this whole blog. I know this phrase is over used but “all I can say is wow” I am gonna continue to say wow until I calm down………..


BRB

Mrs. B

I'm Really Not Saying Anything, I'm Just Saying Something

Hello out there! I have the need to release yet another bad situation into the universe………. Here goes nothing.

I had a friend. He was the epitome of cool. We really had great times together.

We had a basic knowledge and understanding of each other and our thing worked out well. I cried on his shoulder when times were rough and he gave me the type of words of encouragement that only he could give. I’ve known him for ages, way back to junior high school. Everything between us was well. Or so I thought. I am going to break down the situation that has led me to actually hate this dude. Hate is such a strong word and I don’t use it often. This situation really brought out the worse in me, it made me actually hate someone.

So buddy and I decided to hang out, one night turned into two days and things were cool. We decided on going to a movie and to hang out at his friend’s place after. Amidst our planning I got a party invite, you know me I love the house parties!! So I asked buddy if he wanted to come with. He didn’t say yes and he didn’t say no. I took that as a no. Oh well I’m hanging with him so I’ll have to catch a party some other time. The theater was too crowded so we decided to just grab some food and head over to his friends place, on the way there he caught a flat. That shifted his whole mood, which is normal, I would have been irritated as well. Either way I have a car, It’s late night and Florida Ave. is too far away. We decided to go get my car and carry on with the evening. We get to dudes house and everything is swell, just hanging out, drinking and playing cards. In comes some chick and buddy got to acting a tad off. I didn’t pay him that much attention, I was more focused on the collard green mozzarella stick I ate and exactly how much alcohol I could consume without fucking up my hand. I go to the bathroom during a break and come back to the biggest pile of fuckery thus far in 2009. This negroid asked me –

“so sweetheart, you still want to go to that party your friend is having?”

I am thinking he is ready to go and has decided to join me. I assumed that shit and made an ass out of me for real.

“sure let me get our coats”

This fool says

“oh nah, nah, nah, you go ahead and do you, what time we gon link back up in the morning?”

Why yall? Why me?

“so you’re shooing me, let me get my stuff from your house because I don’t know when you gonna wanna link up”

He said

“no”

If I were a boy-I’da stole all hell out of that nigga. I am not a boy so I didn’t. I suggested that we ride over to his place and gather my things so that I could get fresh in the morning. I was staying with him, it was the middle of the night and I really had nowhere else to go. My folks are sleeping I live in Baltimore for Christ’s sake and he is shooing me. WTF? Why the fuck? What happened? I don’t speak English right now because my mind can’t register no. He said no to going to gather my things with me, I said well let me take your keys and bring them back, he said no again.

By this time I am fuming inside and I couldn’t even inhale because I am too through with niggas. My breaths were so thick I though I was going to faint. I couldn’t function. I had no idea why he was doing this. I had to leave out of respect for dudes place. I really wanted to pop off and tell him some thangs but my fight is gone. I couldn’t muster the words. He was sending me on my way because? This never happened before, part of me thought he wanted to link up with ol girl. Well okay, that’s fine but what does that have to do with me getting my shit out his place? Like really? We can’t go get my stuff? You are forcing me to this party and you’ll be home when? In the meantime what am I supposed to do for clothing and bare necessities? How am I supposed to hold true to my proactive regimen? My world is fucked up right now.

So I go to the party, I had a ball. I half ass sang some karaoke and D. Marq sang some shugg for me! It was great, it really helped me to feel better. Thanks D. After a few I called buddy to see if he was home and he was. He said I could come and get my things. I got lost going over there which gave me time to think. I was driving with no destination at like five in the morning, crying my eyes out and cursing the world for my stupidity. Was I stupid? No I wasn’t, I realize that now. He was out of the norm not me. So why did I cry? I couldn’t stop. The tears were like hot wax and the fact that I had the windows down did nothing for my being over heated. I was miserable in every essence of the word. How did I get myself into yet another fucked up situation? Why did he shoo me away?

Mrs. B

TDTSNBN - I hate it

Hello All, I am sure everyone is busy with their pre-inauguration/Martin Luther “The” King” preparations and what not……… Either way, Valentine’s Day is approaching and I am encouraging you all to get your votes in (look to the right) so that I can mentally prepare for my yearly damn near had alcohol poisoning hang-over.

I snatched this snippet from my myspace blog, this really stands out in my disdain towards this “valentines day” thing. I was in Family Dollar yesterday buying knee highs and what not and I came across some take-out style valentines treat boxes at the register. So I say to the clerk “wow it’s that time again already huh” he says “yes mam it is” (this bitch called me mam, I didn’t curse him for filth because of his heavy southern accent) he meant no harm, I still side eyed his ass though….. After our exchange I had to fight myself all the way to the car in effort not to purchase the dang boxes. My mind was just-a-racing with the type of shit I could put in there and hand out to my “funny valentines” I am proud to say I banished that evil to hell below and I pulled off take-out box free. Enjoy my second reason for hating – ooh I’ma call it TDTSNBN (the day that shall not be named ©)

2 My Ex-Baby R.I.P. Our relationship was fresh, you know that new found feeling you get when you first meet someone? Well we were well into our 10th month of seeing each other and Valentine's Day was quickly approaching. We never really spent too much time together but when we did it was always special. Me being busy with work and school and him having "2" jobs – or so I thought, (ahh hem) All that weekend I racked my mind thinking of what we could do, I didn't want to buy anything I wanted to spend time together since we were both very busy. I decided on an evening at the B-More Harbor, yeah that was perfect… cold but different.

So the big day arrives and he surprises me at work with a gift, I was standing in the cut sneaking a cigarette and I see him crossing the parking lot. I was like "what's going on.?" Then he pulls out this monstrosity of a gift, it was a freaking Teddy Bear wrapped in cellophane, you know the kind you get at stop lights? He said he was in a rush and he would be back later to meet me so I thanked him for the "gift" and went inside. I called my friend up to the front so that she could witness my joy in opening the present.

I unwrapped it and the bear was cute, there were flowers and stuff too. I began my search, I turned the bear over and under, felt it's neckline my eyes scanned it's arms and legs in search of my gift. I thought “maybe it's in the flowers” at last my friend began laughing hysterically. She was like "what are you doing?" I was like "looking for my present" Then she topples over with laughter talking bout "that is it girl" I stood there thinking to myself, she is right - this is it. A freaking bear and flowers, no bracelet – no earrings-no necklace- no nothing. I had to call him, maybe it was a clue to the "big gift" needless to say the conversation went south, I didn't go to the Harbor and he was informed that once you reach a certain age picking up a gift that rolled off the back of some street vendor's truck is completely unacceptable. I still miss him though, R.I.P.

Mrs. B