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Saturday, April 2, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
APGB's #FreakyFridays: Emotions For Dummies!
Welp. I've turned a new page.
Remember how I said I'm gonna be more Honest this year like Michael Scott for my resolution? Yes.
As opposed to having a bunch of jump off's or being in an exclusive relationship - I choose to indulge in Lovers.
Lover's are like a smoothie blend of Jump Off's and Exclusivity. These are title-less shindigs, where I'm physically and emotionally connected but the relation is not that deep. And nobodies taking anyone to the motherfucking bank. Casual sex, with people I like.
WHY girl? ... Whhhhhyyyyy? I hear you asking. I have a few responses:
1. I'ont like being in a relationship. I mean. It's a cute idea, and I'ont know about ya'll but a bish starts feeling really stifled after a while. I feel like someone is strangling me in my sleep sometimes. Needless to say, I have DIRE commitment issues. I feel like I'd rather pursue my career diligently than pursue love (and them) ... Diligently. Too many emotional roller-coasters involved in this.
2. Jump off's are cool, but not as cool as possible for the job. I can't fuck someone to the fullest of my fuckability unless I know them and I Like them. Don't ask me, it's just something I've learned about my body. And obviously I can't be bothered to "know" someone who's not worth knowing. So that being said, my jump off's have been known to be some definitely date-able guys. They landed as jump off's because of circumstantial issues (i/e falling under dick requirements, sexual performance requirements or geographical requirements ...)
I settle upon Lovers.
Lovers fall under this wonderful umbrella. There is NO title. Whatever goes on between us is absolutely confidential, and suffers NOTHING from "Them" "They" and "The People". I answer to no one about how my relationship is going, because it is not a "relationship". I introduce them to none of my family and friends in a serious manner and likewise. I've found that when I see dudes in this fashion, away from the speculation and the interrogation, everything is better. Maybe that is why Official Relationships stifle me ... because I have to answer to SO many people about any and everything. It's waaaaay too much pressure ... especially since I like keeping my private life private.
But More Importantly. When I like someone ... their dick swells.
Not literally. I'm just saying. I could casually see someone and not think anything of anything, but when I actually "like" someone ... this same penis that wasn't anything worth writing in the diary about all of a sudden becomes this Large, and Wholesome thing!! No Lies. I thought I was imagining this but no.
I had an ex, whom I adored, and really thought his dick was something worth choking on. After we broke up we had "for old times sake" sex and I couldn't help but laugh. Was this really the SAME EXACT cock??? ... Really? ... . . . . . the same ONE? Oh. Okay.
Anyway Doe. Lovers are JUST involved enough for me to qualify as something that I enjoy smashing regularly and am capable of being seen in public with irregularly, but at the same time - are not IN my life intricately enough to really fuck up my daily moods or even pressurize me into monogamy. It's this relaxed environment that I thrive in. No Pressure. All Love. I can discuss things and get logical responses. I can enjoy myself. I appreciate that.
Who am I to say, "No." to such perfection?
Who wouldn't enjoy a people who are there for the sole purpose of pleasing you and yet are not involved with you enough to influence your energy? I don't like the idea of "hoping" that my partner is as dedicated to peace and happiness and fulfillment as I am. And only find out that their thesis to life is in a whole 'nother book. Never mind chapter, or page. It's the perfect temperature for casual bliss. I'll think about exclusivity when I can afford it. literally. I'm talking dollars and cents. When I have a house and a car and egyptian cotton sheets, we can discuss taking relationships to the next level. Polygamy. LOL. I keeeeed I keeeeed I joke. (Laughing but very serious. Me and three husbands. The story is to be continued)
Call me x (hahahahahaha!!) <<< that is my Evil Laugh.
Remember how I said I'm gonna be more Honest this year like Michael Scott for my resolution? Yes.
As opposed to having a bunch of jump off's or being in an exclusive relationship - I choose to indulge in Lovers.
Lover's are like a smoothie blend of Jump Off's and Exclusivity. These are title-less shindigs, where I'm physically and emotionally connected but the relation is not that deep. And nobodies taking anyone to the motherfucking bank. Casual sex, with people I like.
WHY girl? ... Whhhhhyyyyy? I hear you asking. I have a few responses:
1. I'ont like being in a relationship. I mean. It's a cute idea, and I'ont know about ya'll but a bish starts feeling really stifled after a while. I feel like someone is strangling me in my sleep sometimes. Needless to say, I have DIRE commitment issues. I feel like I'd rather pursue my career diligently than pursue love (and them) ... Diligently. Too many emotional roller-coasters involved in this.
2. Jump off's are cool, but not as cool as possible for the job. I can't fuck someone to the fullest of my fuckability unless I know them and I Like them. Don't ask me, it's just something I've learned about my body. And obviously I can't be bothered to "know" someone who's not worth knowing. So that being said, my jump off's have been known to be some definitely date-able guys. They landed as jump off's because of circumstantial issues (i/e falling under dick requirements, sexual performance requirements or geographical requirements ...)
I settle upon Lovers.
Lovers fall under this wonderful umbrella. There is NO title. Whatever goes on between us is absolutely confidential, and suffers NOTHING from "Them" "They" and "The People". I answer to no one about how my relationship is going, because it is not a "relationship". I introduce them to none of my family and friends in a serious manner and likewise. I've found that when I see dudes in this fashion, away from the speculation and the interrogation, everything is better. Maybe that is why Official Relationships stifle me ... because I have to answer to SO many people about any and everything. It's waaaaay too much pressure ... especially since I like keeping my private life private.
But More Importantly. When I like someone ... their dick swells.
Not literally. I'm just saying. I could casually see someone and not think anything of anything, but when I actually "like" someone ... this same penis that wasn't anything worth writing in the diary about all of a sudden becomes this Large, and Wholesome thing!! No Lies. I thought I was imagining this but no.
I had an ex, whom I adored, and really thought his dick was something worth choking on. After we broke up we had "for old times sake" sex and I couldn't help but laugh. Was this really the SAME EXACT cock??? ... Really? ... . . . . . the same ONE? Oh. Okay.
Anyway Doe. Lovers are JUST involved enough for me to qualify as something that I enjoy smashing regularly and am capable of being seen in public with irregularly, but at the same time - are not IN my life intricately enough to really fuck up my daily moods or even pressurize me into monogamy. It's this relaxed environment that I thrive in. No Pressure. All Love. I can discuss things and get logical responses. I can enjoy myself. I appreciate that.
Who am I to say, "No." to such perfection?
Who wouldn't enjoy a people who are there for the sole purpose of pleasing you and yet are not involved with you enough to influence your energy? I don't like the idea of "hoping" that my partner is as dedicated to peace and happiness and fulfillment as I am. And only find out that their thesis to life is in a whole 'nother book. Never mind chapter, or page. It's the perfect temperature for casual bliss. I'll think about exclusivity when I can afford it. literally. I'm talking dollars and cents. When I have a house and a car and egyptian cotton sheets, we can discuss taking relationships to the next level. Polygamy. LOL. I keeeeed I keeeeed I joke. (Laughing but very serious. Me and three husbands. The story is to be continued)
Call me x (hahahahahaha!!) <<< that is my Evil Laugh.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Are Good Looking Men A Headache??
A question posted on the APGB facebook wall today:
"My cousin made the following statement '' I quit dating good looking men. All they do is mess up your life. Working on an ugly man cause he will take care of me.'' Apparently there is less talking (unfulfilled promises and the like) and more doing... What are your experiences?"
>>>>>> Welp. Hot Boys are a very delicate matter. They must be handled with care. And the thing is, they don't HAVE to be "Good Looking" ... they just have to be ATTRACTIVE.
It's like, men grow up trying to get all the pussy possible. Then all of a sudden, they figure out that when they're gentlemen, who care about their appearance, and are generally mildly good company - the pussy don't stop coming.
When you are the woman in their life - Life becomes Hard. Pun intended.
You become that boy you dated that told you "boys and girls can't be friends, so ditch your boy friends, I'm ALL the "Friend" you need"
It's hard to trust a good looking man, BECAUSE most of their friends are probably female - since other men don't trust them(around their girls). And you KNOW these women aren't really his friends. They're more like VULTURES. Circling and Waiting for a moment of weakness that they can take absolute advantage of. This is the HEADACHE us women are talking about ...
Who CAN handle being committed to a Catch? People think women are docile and that men are usually the ones chasing tail - which MIGHT be true in MOST cases, but I can guarantee you that whatever you think is happening while you're not around is exactly what's happening. Bitches be sacrificing their dignity, their pride, their Vagina's to your man, girl. Left, Right, Center, Front and Back. He couldn't be thirsty if he tried. He has to "run" away from that shit if he's serious about you.
Does this mean he doesn't give a shit about you? No
Does this mean he fucks the girls? Ey. Show me a man who can turn "offered" pussy down and I'll show you SUPERMAN. This is not saying it's IMPOSSIBLE, but I don't put anything past anyone. Many men are capable of being COMMITTED and simultaneously make you FEEL secure - but shit. Let's be serious. Have YOU met him yet?? If you did you'd probably want him for yourself and stand in line with the rest of his stans that are waiting for him to be vulnerable around them.
IN SHORT. I won't say UGLY men are easier to be with. And that they treat you better because they appreciate you - or whatever. Ugly Men can be headaches too. Because if You're fly - and you have male acquaintances, then this whole blog can relate to the way he can't handle the attention thrown at you.
I WILL SAY, though. That Good Looking Men have to grow up and LOOSE a couple of important things, for them to understand what the real issue is. You can't expect this from a young man though - he hasn't a clue about the level of damage standing in the middle of temptation can really do for you. And he's overwhelmed by the buffet style pussy overload.
But There ARE good looking men who know how to make women feel secure. They know that the constant female company is not a good look to the woman in their life, so they cut it out - or they reduce the temperature when they're in a committed relationship. They make sure they're with you most of the time, so you can see for yourself how his life runs, and to discourage you from making up stories about where he is when he's not with you. And also to show you the level of seriousness he is with you. And these are men who know how to say, "NO" to pussy offerings. In plain English. A nice, polite, and solid, "NO." Won't even be there long enough to let it be offered at all. Since he knows heaux's like the back of his hand. Won't give you room to doubt him at all. His Attention is Undivided. He doesn't even know WHERE his phone is when he's with you. That's a person who is trying to make YOU feel as SECURE as possible. Because HE KNOWS what losing your faith in him costs. In dollars and cents.
That's all I have to say.
It's very very very rare to meet a good looking man who's a "good lover".
It's HARD finding an Ugly man who is NOT insecure.
So I will definitely OVER-SELL the Average Man. Who is usually a sweetheart, who has no idea how he has you - let alone how he got your number, and is only concerned with your happiness, because your happiness IS his happiness. The Average Man has a high success rate in my book.
"My cousin made the following statement '' I quit dating good looking men. All they do is mess up your life. Working on an ugly man cause he will take care of me.'' Apparently there is less talking (unfulfilled promises and the like) and more doing... What are your experiences?"
>>>>>> Welp. Hot Boys are a very delicate matter. They must be handled with care. And the thing is, they don't HAVE to be "Good Looking" ... they just have to be ATTRACTIVE.
It's like, men grow up trying to get all the pussy possible. Then all of a sudden, they figure out that when they're gentlemen, who care about their appearance, and are generally mildly good company - the pussy don't stop coming.
When you are the woman in their life - Life becomes Hard. Pun intended.
You become that boy you dated that told you "boys and girls can't be friends, so ditch your boy friends, I'm ALL the "Friend" you need"
It's hard to trust a good looking man, BECAUSE most of their friends are probably female - since other men don't trust them(around their girls). And you KNOW these women aren't really his friends. They're more like VULTURES. Circling and Waiting for a moment of weakness that they can take absolute advantage of. This is the HEADACHE us women are talking about ...
Who CAN handle being committed to a Catch? People think women are docile and that men are usually the ones chasing tail - which MIGHT be true in MOST cases, but I can guarantee you that whatever you think is happening while you're not around is exactly what's happening. Bitches be sacrificing their dignity, their pride, their Vagina's to your man, girl. Left, Right, Center, Front and Back. He couldn't be thirsty if he tried. He has to "run" away from that shit if he's serious about you.
Does this mean he doesn't give a shit about you? No
Does this mean he fucks the girls? Ey. Show me a man who can turn "offered" pussy down and I'll show you SUPERMAN. This is not saying it's IMPOSSIBLE, but I don't put anything past anyone. Many men are capable of being COMMITTED and simultaneously make you FEEL secure - but shit. Let's be serious. Have YOU met him yet?? If you did you'd probably want him for yourself and stand in line with the rest of his stans that are waiting for him to be vulnerable around them.
IN SHORT. I won't say UGLY men are easier to be with. And that they treat you better because they appreciate you - or whatever. Ugly Men can be headaches too. Because if You're fly - and you have male acquaintances, then this whole blog can relate to the way he can't handle the attention thrown at you.
I WILL SAY, though. That Good Looking Men have to grow up and LOOSE a couple of important things, for them to understand what the real issue is. You can't expect this from a young man though - he hasn't a clue about the level of damage standing in the middle of temptation can really do for you. And he's overwhelmed by the buffet style pussy overload.
But There ARE good looking men who know how to make women feel secure. They know that the constant female company is not a good look to the woman in their life, so they cut it out - or they reduce the temperature when they're in a committed relationship. They make sure they're with you most of the time, so you can see for yourself how his life runs, and to discourage you from making up stories about where he is when he's not with you. And also to show you the level of seriousness he is with you. And these are men who know how to say, "NO" to pussy offerings. In plain English. A nice, polite, and solid, "NO." Won't even be there long enough to let it be offered at all. Since he knows heaux's like the back of his hand. Won't give you room to doubt him at all. His Attention is Undivided. He doesn't even know WHERE his phone is when he's with you. That's a person who is trying to make YOU feel as SECURE as possible. Because HE KNOWS what losing your faith in him costs. In dollars and cents.
That's all I have to say.
It's very very very rare to meet a good looking man who's a "good lover".
It's HARD finding an Ugly man who is NOT insecure.
So I will definitely OVER-SELL the Average Man. Who is usually a sweetheart, who has no idea how he has you - let alone how he got your number, and is only concerned with your happiness, because your happiness IS his happiness. The Average Man has a high success rate in my book.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Be Whole. Then Plus One.
I just saw the title of an article: Marriage was not designed to make you Happy.
Really now? Is that the thing you find out After the wedding? Is that what happens After you sail into the sunset? You find THAT out? What an unpleasant surprise. *snickers*
Us humans who don't like facing our situations for what they are will often tuck our ticks, insecurities, disatisfactions, and guilty pleasures under the rug. And when someone comes along who infatuates you, and you initially feel so damn good around them you can't imagine ever feeling not good - you just have it in your mind that all your problems dissipate in their presence. So then you want them around all the time. So then you marry them.
After the butterflies and rainbows disappear. You have the person. The Human. And you still have your bullshit. Except now there are two of you. Two Great People, with their bullshit to go with it.
I see this. I realize this. In a wild attempt to duck the bombs, I've come to the following conclusion:
Make sure that you have everything you need to be happy before getting in a relationship. Make sure that you have ALL corners covered. Money is right. Spirituality is right. Health is right. Relationships are right. So that the ONLY reason you want a partner is for Play ... and because you take such good care of yourself, you will see who brings what to the table with clear vision. You can see people CLEARLY when you take good care of yourself. You can't use anyone for anything when you supply everything for yourself. Relationships then become what they were always supposed to be - FUN. FUN FUN FUN FUN FUN FUN.
And if you fall in love, well - what's FUNNER than that?
As for marriage, I have no advice. Never been married. Have no intentions on being married
Unless... Well .... I do want to know what it's like to be married to someone who's as dedicated to happiness and fulfillment as I am. I just wanna know what a household made of "STRIVERS" would be like. I'm pretty fierce as a one-man wolf pack. But if there were two? What exactly, are the possibilities?
Just a thought.
Anyway, here's the article ----- http://blackandmarriedwithkids.com/2011/02/18/marriage-was-not-designed-to-make-you-happy/
Really now? Is that the thing you find out After the wedding? Is that what happens After you sail into the sunset? You find THAT out? What an unpleasant surprise. *snickers*
Us humans who don't like facing our situations for what they are will often tuck our ticks, insecurities, disatisfactions, and guilty pleasures under the rug. And when someone comes along who infatuates you, and you initially feel so damn good around them you can't imagine ever feeling not good - you just have it in your mind that all your problems dissipate in their presence. So then you want them around all the time. So then you marry them.
After the butterflies and rainbows disappear. You have the person. The Human. And you still have your bullshit. Except now there are two of you. Two Great People, with their bullshit to go with it.
I see this. I realize this. In a wild attempt to duck the bombs, I've come to the following conclusion:
Make sure that you have everything you need to be happy before getting in a relationship. Make sure that you have ALL corners covered. Money is right. Spirituality is right. Health is right. Relationships are right. So that the ONLY reason you want a partner is for Play ... and because you take such good care of yourself, you will see who brings what to the table with clear vision. You can see people CLEARLY when you take good care of yourself. You can't use anyone for anything when you supply everything for yourself. Relationships then become what they were always supposed to be - FUN. FUN FUN FUN FUN FUN FUN.
And if you fall in love, well - what's FUNNER than that?
As for marriage, I have no advice. Never been married. Have no intentions on being married
Unless... Well .... I do want to know what it's like to be married to someone who's as dedicated to happiness and fulfillment as I am. I just wanna know what a household made of "STRIVERS" would be like. I'm pretty fierce as a one-man wolf pack. But if there were two? What exactly, are the possibilities?
Just a thought.
Anyway, here's the article ----- http://blackandmarriedwithkids.com/2011/02/18/marriage-was-not-designed-to-make-you-happy/
Thursday, February 17, 2011
MAN! I just shitted on 'em!
HOOOOLLLLLLLLLLD UP!!
HOLD THEEEEE FUUUUCCCCCCK UUUUUPPPPPPPP! TIME-OUT MOTHERFUCKERS TIME-THEFUCK-OUT!!!!
*blows whistle*
Now I'm going to address this bullshit, and God Bless the individuals who still spread this stupid shit.
I commend the individual who first figured out that desperately lonely women was a potential market. My God - where they right. How did we come to this? I ask.
It all began with recognizing that humans are social and sexual creatures. We NEED relationships. And some genius took that female brain, CONVINCED it to take responsibility for EVERY gahtdamnthing men FAIL at, HUMANS fail at - and carry that shit in our purses EVERYWHERE we go.
I digress. Let's talk about Marriage, an institution with the best PR I've ever seen. You're really going to read all these books and articles to convince you that it's YOUR fault you're not married, because marriage is this amazing thing that you should dedicate your life to experience.
And then you get married.
And then you realize that marriage is a glorified relationship.
And relationships suck. Ass.
I mean, why else are you single now?
Isn't it because you paid $50 for a .50 cent item?
And you think Husbands are some Wonderful Men don't you?
No. They're not.
They are just Men.
Like every other man you fucked and loved and then realized you can't do this shit for ONE more day with and broke up.
Or whatever.
People tell you, "your boyfriends suck because you suck". Then you go to all these dumbass classes, read all these dumbass books. Indeed. Change your life! Because there is a rumor about this Dream Man - who has a salary, with benefits, little to no debt, no kids, no baggage, sexy as hell, and who is faithful. Loyal. DEDICATED.
So you become this perfect female. For this "dream man" But guess what? Dream men are in your DREAMS.
If you want to change yourself for the better, I have two suggestions for who and what to do it for.
1. YOU
2. MONEY
No man will ever be good enough, Girl. Not a single human walks this planet without faults. So why theeeeee fuck are you contributing your time, your energy, your money, to making a good wife? And listening to all these UNQUALIFIED STRANGERS tell you how to play your cards?
As if being Married is something to be proud of? EVERYONE is married. UNHAPPILY married at that. Being Married ain't shit. Being rich? THAT'S some shit. Barely anyone I know is RICH. Damn near EVERYONE I know is married. That should tell you something. Everybody knows Valuable things aren't easily achieved. If anybody can do it, it ain't worth shit. Why do you think McDonalds pays minimum wage?
Single Ladies, Just look at these titles: Why men love bitches, why men MARRY bitches, your degree's won't keep you warm at night, he's just not that into you, Why you're not married, Act like a Lady Think like a man (he sold two million copies), Stuck on stupid, Ladies! Listen Up!...
Don't those Titles INSULT you? Your intelligence?
Shiiiit if someone told me I "could" earn TWO MILLION DOLLARS from shitting on men, I'd do it too. I would go Hard in the Paint on alot of shit. Incase you don't believe me I would go IN on the following;
1. Broke ass men
2. Late ass men
3. Over-Reaching ass men
4. Low Libido ass men
5. Short ass men
6. Asshole ass men
7. Whore ass men
8. Small Dick ass men
9. Insecure ass men
10. Unhealthy ass men
11. DESERVE respect without EARNING respect ass men
12. Men with MANGINA's ass men
13. UnCLEAN ass men
14. Unambitious ass men
15. Leachy ass men
16. "no-homo" ass men
17. One Minute ass men
18. Uncircumsized ass men (No. 18 is some REAL shit to me. Fuck do we get brazilians for when we can't get a clean working area too?)
19. Rude ass men
20. Dumb ass men
Must I go on? Because I can. And if I KNEW these dudes would eat all my shit up and buy it off of amazon.com- sheeeeiiiiit, I would DO IT!!
Moral of the story is, don't listen to the propaganda. Make sure you live your life for your happiness. Fuck stressing yourself about Marriage. Fuck Advice Books from these unknowledgeable, untrained, uncultured, unqualified, imbiciles who are looking to make fast money by exploiting your naivete. Fuck all the people who try to tell you how to behave when they themselves have nothing to show for shit.
There is only one rule a smart person has: Learn from he who has that which you want.
Which means, if you're getting marriage advice, you better get it from the people who have the marriage YOU want. Not OTHER single people, or bitches that have been married THRICE and think that's some shit to be proud of. Get the Fuck outta here you feeble heaux. The vows involve FOR BETTER AND WORSE, I guess you just heard the "for better" part THREE TIMES IN A ROW huh?
So you want someone who will "love" you forever? That's not Marriage. Marriage doesn't require love. It requires signatures.
That is all!
HOLD THEEEEE FUUUUCCCCCCK UUUUUPPPPPPPP! TIME-OUT MOTHERFUCKERS TIME-THEFUCK-OUT!!!!
*blows whistle*
Now I'm going to address this bullshit, and God Bless the individuals who still spread this stupid shit.
I commend the individual who first figured out that desperately lonely women was a potential market. My God - where they right. How did we come to this? I ask.
It all began with recognizing that humans are social and sexual creatures. We NEED relationships. And some genius took that female brain, CONVINCED it to take responsibility for EVERY gahtdamnthing men FAIL at, HUMANS fail at - and carry that shit in our purses EVERYWHERE we go.
I digress. Let's talk about Marriage, an institution with the best PR I've ever seen. You're really going to read all these books and articles to convince you that it's YOUR fault you're not married, because marriage is this amazing thing that you should dedicate your life to experience.
And then you get married.
And then you realize that marriage is a glorified relationship.
And relationships suck. Ass.
I mean, why else are you single now?
Isn't it because you paid $50 for a .50 cent item?
And you think Husbands are some Wonderful Men don't you?
No. They're not.
They are just Men.
Like every other man you fucked and loved and then realized you can't do this shit for ONE more day with and broke up.
Or whatever.
People tell you, "your boyfriends suck because you suck". Then you go to all these dumbass classes, read all these dumbass books. Indeed. Change your life! Because there is a rumor about this Dream Man - who has a salary, with benefits, little to no debt, no kids, no baggage, sexy as hell, and who is faithful. Loyal. DEDICATED.
So you become this perfect female. For this "dream man" But guess what? Dream men are in your DREAMS.
If you want to change yourself for the better, I have two suggestions for who and what to do it for.
1. YOU
2. MONEY
No man will ever be good enough, Girl. Not a single human walks this planet without faults. So why theeeeee fuck are you contributing your time, your energy, your money, to making a good wife? And listening to all these UNQUALIFIED STRANGERS tell you how to play your cards?
As if being Married is something to be proud of? EVERYONE is married. UNHAPPILY married at that. Being Married ain't shit. Being rich? THAT'S some shit. Barely anyone I know is RICH. Damn near EVERYONE I know is married. That should tell you something. Everybody knows Valuable things aren't easily achieved. If anybody can do it, it ain't worth shit. Why do you think McDonalds pays minimum wage?
Single Ladies, Just look at these titles: Why men love bitches, why men MARRY bitches, your degree's won't keep you warm at night, he's just not that into you, Why you're not married, Act like a Lady Think like a man (he sold two million copies), Stuck on stupid, Ladies! Listen Up!...
Don't those Titles INSULT you? Your intelligence?
Shiiiit if someone told me I "could" earn TWO MILLION DOLLARS from shitting on men, I'd do it too. I would go Hard in the Paint on alot of shit. Incase you don't believe me I would go IN on the following;
1. Broke ass men
2. Late ass men
3. Over-Reaching ass men
4. Low Libido ass men
5. Short ass men
6. Asshole ass men
7. Whore ass men
8. Small Dick ass men
9. Insecure ass men
10. Unhealthy ass men
11. DESERVE respect without EARNING respect ass men
12. Men with MANGINA's ass men
13. UnCLEAN ass men
14. Unambitious ass men
15. Leachy ass men
16. "no-homo" ass men
17. One Minute ass men
18. Uncircumsized ass men (No. 18 is some REAL shit to me. Fuck do we get brazilians for when we can't get a clean working area too?)
19. Rude ass men
20. Dumb ass men
Must I go on? Because I can. And if I KNEW these dudes would eat all my shit up and buy it off of amazon.com- sheeeeiiiiit, I would DO IT!!
Moral of the story is, don't listen to the propaganda. Make sure you live your life for your happiness. Fuck stressing yourself about Marriage. Fuck Advice Books from these unknowledgeable, untrained, uncultured, unqualified, imbiciles who are looking to make fast money by exploiting your naivete. Fuck all the people who try to tell you how to behave when they themselves have nothing to show for shit.
There is only one rule a smart person has: Learn from he who has that which you want.
Which means, if you're getting marriage advice, you better get it from the people who have the marriage YOU want. Not OTHER single people, or bitches that have been married THRICE and think that's some shit to be proud of. Get the Fuck outta here you feeble heaux. The vows involve FOR BETTER AND WORSE, I guess you just heard the "for better" part THREE TIMES IN A ROW huh?
So you want someone who will "love" you forever? That's not Marriage. Marriage doesn't require love. It requires signatures.
That is all!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Thirsty Chronicles - The Pursuit of Head
These were dark, and shady, shady times.
I was 15. Young. And Thirrrrrstaaaaaaay.
I had been fantasizing about getting head since I heard of it, and now -I wanted nothing else. I began asking random boys, "What's your take on the subject of Cunningulus"I got different responses. Most were no. The boy who's smile was the loveliest and eyes shone the brightest and was definitely the tallest and the bestest basketball player who was too cool for me, even though I was popular as fuck, looked into my eyes and said "when and where" ... I shied away. I wasn't ready for him. I wanted to marry him. But not like "this".
At the time, I had found myself involved with a boy who I had no interest in. I was with him circumstantially. It's a long story. I came out looking quite similar, if not identical, to a heaux. And since the law of teenage hood deemed me to ostracism, I stayed with the reason I was banished from the crowds.
You might be wondering, why would you do heaux-shit and risk ostracism for a dude you didn't even give a fuck about?
Simple. Revenge.
Anyway, moving on. I was obsessed with the Pursuit of head. I thought, well since everyone is minding my business now, how about I get it from my boyfriend? Whom I was not even remotely attracted to. He couldn't kiss worth a dog's damn. His fingering skills were *SO* atrocious. But since I can't tell people when their sex game is lacking, I decided to encourage him. Maybe his sloppy kisses would make amazing sloppy head? We HAD to get to third base.
But Ladies and Gentlemen, the boy was not going. I didn't know how much longer I could endure this bad foreplay in the name of waiting for head ... so what did I do?
for Valentines Day, 2002 - I sent a boy a cake.
A cake that stated the following; EAT ME.
Well. He ate, alright. The Cake, that is. And ... AND ... I never got ANYTHING for Valentines day. Not Head, not a card, not a bloody chocolate bar. Which is kind of major for Malawians. We go hard in the paint for our lovers on lovers day.
Had he known, that the effect of his cause would be so bloody Epic - he would have crawled to me on his hands and knees. Remember that lovely boy at the beginning of our story? Yes him. During our spring break, he was at a house party I was at. Him and my boyfriend were super buddies. They hung out together. Same crew. When "Get Busy - Sean Paul" came on? I pushed this lovely smiled, lovely eyed, lovely boy up against the wall and did everything a little teenage girl can think to do with her cutey booty. Soon, we were making out like showing out on the side of the road outside ... which became the back seat of someone's car ... which became his face ... in the kitty parlor. Justice Prevailed. And, all of my boyfriends friends stood by and watched it all happen. I remember their dagger eyes. lol. How do I sleep at night? With a bottle of cold water by my bed. Thanks for asking.
I immediately dumped my boyfriend the next day. (With his extra Extra lame ass. No Barbeque sauce.) and carried on my reign of the undying pursuit of: Good. Head.
The rest is history. What did I learn from this experience?
Whatever ONE man is unwilling to do, there are pleeeeeeeenty more - more than willing. to do it.
And just to think, somewhere on this planet - this boy is someone's love of their life. One girls treasure? Another Girl's TRASH.
Thank you, and Happy Valentines Day 2011.
I was 15. Young. And Thirrrrrstaaaaaaay.
I had been fantasizing about getting head since I heard of it, and now -I wanted nothing else. I began asking random boys, "What's your take on the subject of Cunningulus"I got different responses. Most were no. The boy who's smile was the loveliest and eyes shone the brightest and was definitely the tallest and the bestest basketball player who was too cool for me, even though I was popular as fuck, looked into my eyes and said "when and where" ... I shied away. I wasn't ready for him. I wanted to marry him. But not like "this".
At the time, I had found myself involved with a boy who I had no interest in. I was with him circumstantially. It's a long story. I came out looking quite similar, if not identical, to a heaux. And since the law of teenage hood deemed me to ostracism, I stayed with the reason I was banished from the crowds.
You might be wondering, why would you do heaux-shit and risk ostracism for a dude you didn't even give a fuck about?
Simple. Revenge.
Anyway, moving on. I was obsessed with the Pursuit of head. I thought, well since everyone is minding my business now, how about I get it from my boyfriend? Whom I was not even remotely attracted to. He couldn't kiss worth a dog's damn. His fingering skills were *SO* atrocious. But since I can't tell people when their sex game is lacking, I decided to encourage him. Maybe his sloppy kisses would make amazing sloppy head? We HAD to get to third base.
But Ladies and Gentlemen, the boy was not going. I didn't know how much longer I could endure this bad foreplay in the name of waiting for head ... so what did I do?
for Valentines Day, 2002 - I sent a boy a cake.
A cake that stated the following; EAT ME.
Well. He ate, alright. The Cake, that is. And ... AND ... I never got ANYTHING for Valentines day. Not Head, not a card, not a bloody chocolate bar. Which is kind of major for Malawians. We go hard in the paint for our lovers on lovers day.
Had he known, that the effect of his cause would be so bloody Epic - he would have crawled to me on his hands and knees. Remember that lovely boy at the beginning of our story? Yes him. During our spring break, he was at a house party I was at. Him and my boyfriend were super buddies. They hung out together. Same crew. When "Get Busy - Sean Paul" came on? I pushed this lovely smiled, lovely eyed, lovely boy up against the wall and did everything a little teenage girl can think to do with her cutey booty. Soon, we were making out like showing out on the side of the road outside ... which became the back seat of someone's car ... which became his face ... in the kitty parlor. Justice Prevailed. And, all of my boyfriends friends stood by and watched it all happen. I remember their dagger eyes. lol. How do I sleep at night? With a bottle of cold water by my bed. Thanks for asking.
I immediately dumped my boyfriend the next day. (With his extra Extra lame ass. No Barbeque sauce.) and carried on my reign of the undying pursuit of: Good. Head.
The rest is history. What did I learn from this experience?
Whatever ONE man is unwilling to do, there are pleeeeeeeenty more - more than willing. to do it.
And just to think, somewhere on this planet - this boy is someone's love of their life. One girls treasure? Another Girl's TRASH.
Thank you, and Happy Valentines Day 2011.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Thirsty Chronicles - Decapitation. Subject ONE.
Speaking of shit talkers, I met this boy at my girls party.
Biggest Shit-Talker of all time (dare I say the 21st century).
I'm not going to say he isn't attractive, but I knew it was doom for him from the jump because he looked too much like one of my ex's. I won't get into that though. All night, this boy was going on about how he uses women, how they pay his bills, how they stalk him at work... So I decided I'm gonna take it upon myself to out him... for the under cover sucker he is. I'm sorry, but... real recognize real... and he was looking real unfamiliar right then.
What I've learned from life is that shit talkers are too busy talking shit to get any REAL shit done. You prey on the weak and call yourself a predator huh? No hunny, you're a SCAVENGER. You eat meat that's BEEN dead. (Low self of steam for all those people who can't get past the metaphors) So let's see what you got. As a representative of the "TRY ME" female species... I HAD to do it. He was giving it away.
So. I matched his shit talking, ebonic for ebonic. But still gave more "attention" to his homie. Who is young and bright eyed. I have a thing for that 20 year old friend of his (who is just soooo adorable. I looooove adorable men and people who wear their hearts on their sleeves. Pre-shus!) The Shit-Talker ended up asking me to go outside to smoke. I said I don't smoke. He said come outside to WATCH him smoke (??). I said what the fuck do you take me for? (oh yea, this conversation was in front of everyone) He said we'll be in my car. I said I'd rather stay right here, thanks. Then later he came to hug me and asked to come home with me. I said no thanks, I'm good tonight.
Ladies and Gents... any proud man or woman would have stopped asking for alone time after I turned down 3 of his not-so subliminal messaging. But I digress.
The next time I saw him, my phone was cut off and I wasn't getting texts or calls. So I gave him my number while he demanded for it sitting next to me at another party. Knowing he wouldn't get through anyway. He apparently sent me texts telling me he's coming home with me blah blah blah. But because I never replied, and I left the party while he went to drop someone off - he called my ninja asking her the deal with me at like 8am the next morning. She hung up on him. I paid my bill two weeks later.
And Every Friday, like clockwork - he'd text me a red light special at the 11pm hour.
I would never respond.
The one night I was thirsty enough to try him out, we agreed he'd be at my house by midnight. By 12.45am, I decide to go to bed. I found out when I woke up the next day that at 4am, he was calling and texting me... incessantly... indeed - blowing up my motherfucking phone. The texts started from "I'm outside" and ended with a "You're wrong to not pick up my calls after I drove all this way. That's it. You're coming to me now." << I actually laughed a nice hearty laugh out loud, that he was mad at me, especially when he showed up 4 hours LATER than the hour discussed. Who in the hell does he think he is? As always, I didn't respond.
That day, in the preevening, I got a call from a local number I'd never seen before. I picked up. Guess who it was? He started with a shout,
"THOBE"
"Yes, motherfucker? Who is this?"
"It's _____!"
"Who's number is this _____? This is not your regular number."
"It's my work number. WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER YOUR DOOR WHEN I CAME OVER?"
I answered calmly and sternly (the only way to get through to a psycho, and or dangeroux animals) "Nicca. Did we or did we not say midnight? You come FOUR hours later and you actually think I'd be waiting... for You?
He apologized. He thought he was calling to shout at me and have me apologize?
Oh. So Young. So Damn Dumb.
That was about three months ago. He never stopped calling me or texting me, until about three weeks ago when on a Friday he sent me some of the saddest texts I've ever seen from a shit-talker .... "Can I see you? ... Please?" "Please?" << Yes. Comrades. Subject ONE had come down to his knees.
My mission was complete.
Anyone with pride will be proud to know he stopped contacting me AFTER he sent a text inviting me to his birthday party two weeks ago.
Ah. The sweet smell of ammunition.
Biggest Shit-Talker of all time (dare I say the 21st century).
I'm not going to say he isn't attractive, but I knew it was doom for him from the jump because he looked too much like one of my ex's. I won't get into that though. All night, this boy was going on about how he uses women, how they pay his bills, how they stalk him at work... So I decided I'm gonna take it upon myself to out him... for the under cover sucker he is. I'm sorry, but... real recognize real... and he was looking real unfamiliar right then.
What I've learned from life is that shit talkers are too busy talking shit to get any REAL shit done. You prey on the weak and call yourself a predator huh? No hunny, you're a SCAVENGER. You eat meat that's BEEN dead. (Low self of steam for all those people who can't get past the metaphors) So let's see what you got. As a representative of the "TRY ME" female species... I HAD to do it. He was giving it away.
So. I matched his shit talking, ebonic for ebonic. But still gave more "attention" to his homie. Who is young and bright eyed. I have a thing for that 20 year old friend of his (who is just soooo adorable. I looooove adorable men and people who wear their hearts on their sleeves. Pre-shus!) The Shit-Talker ended up asking me to go outside to smoke. I said I don't smoke. He said come outside to WATCH him smoke (??). I said what the fuck do you take me for? (oh yea, this conversation was in front of everyone) He said we'll be in my car. I said I'd rather stay right here, thanks. Then later he came to hug me and asked to come home with me. I said no thanks, I'm good tonight.
Ladies and Gents... any proud man or woman would have stopped asking for alone time after I turned down 3 of his not-so subliminal messaging. But I digress.
The next time I saw him, my phone was cut off and I wasn't getting texts or calls. So I gave him my number while he demanded for it sitting next to me at another party. Knowing he wouldn't get through anyway. He apparently sent me texts telling me he's coming home with me blah blah blah. But because I never replied, and I left the party while he went to drop someone off - he called my ninja asking her the deal with me at like 8am the next morning. She hung up on him. I paid my bill two weeks later.
And Every Friday, like clockwork - he'd text me a red light special at the 11pm hour.
I would never respond.
The one night I was thirsty enough to try him out, we agreed he'd be at my house by midnight. By 12.45am, I decide to go to bed. I found out when I woke up the next day that at 4am, he was calling and texting me... incessantly... indeed - blowing up my motherfucking phone. The texts started from "I'm outside" and ended with a "You're wrong to not pick up my calls after I drove all this way. That's it. You're coming to me now." << I actually laughed a nice hearty laugh out loud, that he was mad at me, especially when he showed up 4 hours LATER than the hour discussed. Who in the hell does he think he is? As always, I didn't respond.
That day, in the preevening, I got a call from a local number I'd never seen before. I picked up. Guess who it was? He started with a shout,
"THOBE"
"Yes, motherfucker? Who is this?"
"It's _____!"
"Who's number is this _____? This is not your regular number."
"It's my work number. WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER YOUR DOOR WHEN I CAME OVER?"
I answered calmly and sternly (the only way to get through to a psycho, and or dangeroux animals) "Nicca. Did we or did we not say midnight? You come FOUR hours later and you actually think I'd be waiting... for You?
He apologized. He thought he was calling to shout at me and have me apologize?
Oh. So Young. So Damn Dumb.
That was about three months ago. He never stopped calling me or texting me, until about three weeks ago when on a Friday he sent me some of the saddest texts I've ever seen from a shit-talker .... "Can I see you? ... Please?" "Please?" << Yes. Comrades. Subject ONE had come down to his knees.
My mission was complete.
Anyone with pride will be proud to know he stopped contacting me AFTER he sent a text inviting me to his birthday party two weeks ago.
Ah. The sweet smell of ammunition.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday Brunch Special
Random Sunday Thoughts.
>> On "The Number"
I often ask people how many people they've been involved with. It's not what the number is, it's how you answer the question. I'm not sure why other people ask this question, but I ask it so that I can see how you respond to it. Nobody has ever just answered the gotdamn question... there's always a little chase. A grin, a quizzical expression, an explosion... If it's low - they're ashamed. If it's high, they're ashamed. There's no winning. We know that. And it's not like you'll ever stop fucking. So whats the big deal?
What's my number? 29.
See? That wasn't shit. Now was it?
>> On the hoe theory.
Good girls like bad boys. Good guys like Bad girls. I think this is the Universe's attempt to keep reinforce the balance of good and evil world on this planet.
Why do opposites attract? For all the same reasons.
1. Bad Girls keep you on your toes.
You have to fight for their attention. And once you have it, there's no guarantee you'll keep it. She likes mercenaries. Get in, do your job, ask no questions, get the fuck out. And many men think they're the ones using her, until they hit her up post-midnight on a "what u doing?" after the one night and never hear anything back. "Ya'll don't fuck us nigga we fuck you..." *singing*
2. Bad Girls are better in bed.
They've been around. Hide your kids, hide your husband. They have a use for marbles and they're good friends with your perineum. They give you one look and you know what time it is. You know you can't even see her (no place is too holy) without having to fuck her. She doesn't need dinner. She needs a hard dick and bubblegum. Hold the bubblegum.
3. Bad Girls don't need you.
Anyone dedicated to the cause of getting laid will not stop at just looking good enough to eat. They need a whole get up. A bachelorette pad, a car, and money. A bachelorette pad to properly fuck you in privacy and in the comfort of they're own home. A car to exit when that scenario is impossible and the sex was hot shit. Money so they don't need you for anything outside of the penis. Not for repairs, and definitely not for bills and some such. Having these things makes one's sexual options double. Maybe even triple. You know that when a hoe is not picking up your calls, or giving you the attention you so crave - it's because they're with someone else right now. So... hold that thought.
But the best advantage hoes have on good people is the gift of discernment. Hoes can smell bullshit a mile away, because they're on it too. That's why hoes are amazing at finding and marrying great partners. They're disillusioned with the "rookie theories" (check past blogs), they know a set-up when they see one. Seasoned. Where as the good hearted and nice people of this world are always investing and giving gold to pigs. They see the "potential" in people, and the hope is what has them holding one. One shred of hope can feed 10 Rookies.
>> last but not least - is who you are what you do?
I always hear people say this is what I do, it's not who I am. Whats the difference? If murderers and rapists are what they do, what should excuse any of us from relating who we are to what we are passionate about?
>> On "The Number"
I often ask people how many people they've been involved with. It's not what the number is, it's how you answer the question. I'm not sure why other people ask this question, but I ask it so that I can see how you respond to it. Nobody has ever just answered the gotdamn question... there's always a little chase. A grin, a quizzical expression, an explosion... If it's low - they're ashamed. If it's high, they're ashamed. There's no winning. We know that. And it's not like you'll ever stop fucking. So whats the big deal?
What's my number? 29.
See? That wasn't shit. Now was it?
>> On the hoe theory.
Good girls like bad boys. Good guys like Bad girls. I think this is the Universe's attempt to keep reinforce the balance of good and evil world on this planet.
Why do opposites attract? For all the same reasons.
1. Bad Girls keep you on your toes.
You have to fight for their attention. And once you have it, there's no guarantee you'll keep it. She likes mercenaries. Get in, do your job, ask no questions, get the fuck out. And many men think they're the ones using her, until they hit her up post-midnight on a "what u doing?" after the one night and never hear anything back. "Ya'll don't fuck us nigga we fuck you..." *singing*
2. Bad Girls are better in bed.
They've been around. Hide your kids, hide your husband. They have a use for marbles and they're good friends with your perineum. They give you one look and you know what time it is. You know you can't even see her (no place is too holy) without having to fuck her. She doesn't need dinner. She needs a hard dick and bubblegum. Hold the bubblegum.
3. Bad Girls don't need you.
Anyone dedicated to the cause of getting laid will not stop at just looking good enough to eat. They need a whole get up. A bachelorette pad, a car, and money. A bachelorette pad to properly fuck you in privacy and in the comfort of they're own home. A car to exit when that scenario is impossible and the sex was hot shit. Money so they don't need you for anything outside of the penis. Not for repairs, and definitely not for bills and some such. Having these things makes one's sexual options double. Maybe even triple. You know that when a hoe is not picking up your calls, or giving you the attention you so crave - it's because they're with someone else right now. So... hold that thought.
But the best advantage hoes have on good people is the gift of discernment. Hoes can smell bullshit a mile away, because they're on it too. That's why hoes are amazing at finding and marrying great partners. They're disillusioned with the "rookie theories" (check past blogs), they know a set-up when they see one. Seasoned. Where as the good hearted and nice people of this world are always investing and giving gold to pigs. They see the "potential" in people, and the hope is what has them holding one. One shred of hope can feed 10 Rookies.
>> last but not least - is who you are what you do?
I always hear people say this is what I do, it's not who I am. Whats the difference? If murderers and rapists are what they do, what should excuse any of us from relating who we are to what we are passionate about?
The Marshmallows and The Boy
This whole thing is like a game to me. Like a chess game. Like watching a child who wants marshmallows sitting in a bowl on a table at an unfamiliar's house, and you just watch the baby walk around them, looking at them, licking their lips... yes indeed... longing for them. But never out right asking you for them, but you know they want you to just... give it to them. Offer the damn marshmallows, woman! Something!
So they steal one every time you're not looking, and they think you don't notice a thing... but the powdered sugar is all around their lips. And that naughty grin of satisfaction truly does the most. Never mind the twinkle in the eye.
I know what you want little boy.
And I can give it to you, too.
So they steal one every time you're not looking, and they think you don't notice a thing... but the powdered sugar is all around their lips. And that naughty grin of satisfaction truly does the most. Never mind the twinkle in the eye.
I know what you want little boy.
And I can give it to you, too.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Some of the reasons why being Black is automatically interesting
A black girl changes one aspect about herself and her whole life changes.
HAIRSTYLE: When I was bald, everyone thought I was "deep + afrocentric" shout out to "PINK PANTHERS" <3 (and everyone who tried to sell me incense who ain't trying now that I whip my weave back and forth)...
I cut my hair because bald bitches are BAD. I was walking around looking like Brand New Pussy. Like Fresh Pussy. I was a bad bitch.
Then I stayed natural, and had certain kinds of conversations. One day I watched Good Hair, and I just KNEW an army of people would expect me to stay natural. Fuck that... When the world sleeps, I turn left. I immediately permed the natural hair, and I was immediately disqualified from the INCENSE sell-to troop, and holding my fist up in random places.
BODY: I don't blame Nicki Minaj for buying her booty. I won't even TELL you the madness that brewed when my cutey booty graduated to big booty Judy...
let's just say it's a funny feeling knowing that people only want you for your body. Like farreal. You wonder if they even know that YOU live in there... when they can't even remember your name, yet every weekend after 11pm, you get red light specials.
I used to be skinny and had to fight for my license to be sexy rights, now I ain't gotta do shit but show the fuck up. When I know someone only wants one thing from me, I make them wait in line until I bring them down to their knees and they can spell my entire name. Shit. Fuck I look like? Clever and Sexy. You don't stand a chance, belieeee dat. You'll be murmuring my long ass name to your co-workers before you even get to scratch and sniff it if you come to me with all the wrong intentions written on your forehead. Sexually Eager cats get their own blog later today.
STANDING OUT: Now that the media has properly told us what our cultures are supposed to do and be, and everyone who watches trash TV is on the same page - it's truly never been easier to stand out. I mean... it just CAN'T be easier... it's a bloody giveaway.
"It was hard to stand out once upon a time. Now? Please. Standing out NOW is just the intro-music. Wait 'til I walk in. Shit. *dusts shoulder*" --- 21 Janurary 2011 --- twitter.com/aprettygirlblog
HAIRSTYLE: When I was bald, everyone thought I was "deep + afrocentric" shout out to "PINK PANTHERS" <3 (and everyone who tried to sell me incense who ain't trying now that I whip my weave back and forth)...
I cut my hair because bald bitches are BAD. I was walking around looking like Brand New Pussy. Like Fresh Pussy. I was a bad bitch.
Then I stayed natural, and had certain kinds of conversations. One day I watched Good Hair, and I just KNEW an army of people would expect me to stay natural. Fuck that... When the world sleeps, I turn left. I immediately permed the natural hair, and I was immediately disqualified from the INCENSE sell-to troop, and holding my fist up in random places.
BODY: I don't blame Nicki Minaj for buying her booty. I won't even TELL you the madness that brewed when my cutey booty graduated to big booty Judy...
let's just say it's a funny feeling knowing that people only want you for your body. Like farreal. You wonder if they even know that YOU live in there... when they can't even remember your name, yet every weekend after 11pm, you get red light specials.
I used to be skinny and had to fight for my license to be sexy rights, now I ain't gotta do shit but show the fuck up. When I know someone only wants one thing from me, I make them wait in line until I bring them down to their knees and they can spell my entire name. Shit. Fuck I look like? Clever and Sexy. You don't stand a chance, belieeee dat. You'll be murmuring my long ass name to your co-workers before you even get to scratch and sniff it if you come to me with all the wrong intentions written on your forehead. Sexually Eager cats get their own blog later today.
STANDING OUT: Now that the media has properly told us what our cultures are supposed to do and be, and everyone who watches trash TV is on the same page - it's truly never been easier to stand out. I mean... it just CAN'T be easier... it's a bloody giveaway.
"It was hard to stand out once upon a time. Now? Please. Standing out NOW is just the intro-music. Wait 'til I walk in. Shit. *dusts shoulder*" --- 21 Janurary 2011 --- twitter.com/aprettygirlblog
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I'd strive to be an overachiever if I wasn't such a underdog.
How do you know that someone treats YOU differently from everyone else, when you can only be you when you're around them? The One never knows they're The One, and you can't show them they're The One because you'll scare them off and they'll think you're crazy. Crazy just happens to be my forte this year, I've taken a page in the books of ALL the craziest of my lovers, and even movie characters. I'm just gonna say it from my chest. Don't be surprised if I get tattoo's with names this year, just to give a big FUCK YOU to all the scaredy cats out there that think tattoo's are a jinx. There's no better legacy than owning the shit that's printed onto your flesh like a logo, and WINNING anyway (Winner Takes All).
This blog was supposed to be about the things I realize make me feel special. They're very strange, but when executed correctly - they're just the kind of shit Thobe wants on the menu.
1. DESIRED > REQUIRED (desired is greater than required)
If you don't need me... In other words, you can cook. You havebetter sexual options. You have a social life. You have someone that supplies everything I can give to you Blah Blah Blah... but yet you select my company often - is telling me something.
It tells me that you Want me. You Choose Me. That makes me feel really special. It makes me feel like I have a certain Je Ne Sais Quoi that no matter WHO is doing WHAT to you, you'd still prefer it if I was the one doing it.
2. LOVE > TRUST (love is greater than trust)
I care not to be trusted.
I want you to feel like every time I'm not with you, I could be with someone else. I want you to want me despite not trusting me even one bit. It's a purer kind of desire to me. It's translating that you don't love me because I am kind to you. It's something more intangible, and inexplicable, and deeper than that. You know you feel deeply for something when it's a threat to your well being but you want it anyway.
I want to be like your pet Tigress. Who sleeps next to your pet Lamb (your heart). And when you go to sleep, you'll never know if today's the day you'll wake up to see a bloody heap in my face and a bone in my teeth. And if that's not the case, you'll never know if today's the day I decide to eat you alive.
I'm not saying I want my lover to live in fear - I just want you to love me in spite of not trusting me. This may sound strange, but if you don't get it, I can't explain it. Loving someone in spite of their wost quality is extremely deep to me. And I like feeling and loving and feeling profound while fucking so shit... When you expect worse from me - and you're wearing socks... prepare to have them blowed off. Pun intended.
Don't get me twisted, I like being happy. But I like knowing who I'm rolling with. Is this a light weight? Or can I go through some shit, can I show you the entirety of me - not just my good angles - and still have you?
I consider people who cannot embrace my bad side weak. The minute I smell weakness I become like a shark smelling blood, I just finish you off. I do this because I'm barely ever bad. I like releasing my aggression all at once.
This TRUST I mention is not only about extra-curricular lovers, I'm talking about not trusting me to love you the way you want to be loved. If I can hurt you to an unmanageable point, and you still come back to me - it makes me feel very speshal.
This blog was supposed to be about the things I realize make me feel special. They're very strange, but when executed correctly - they're just the kind of shit Thobe wants on the menu.
1. DESIRED > REQUIRED (desired is greater than required)
If you don't need me... In other words, you can cook. You have
It tells me that you Want me. You Choose Me. That makes me feel really special. It makes me feel like I have a certain Je Ne Sais Quoi that no matter WHO is doing WHAT to you, you'd still prefer it if I was the one doing it.
2. LOVE > TRUST (love is greater than trust)
I care not to be trusted.
I want you to feel like every time I'm not with you, I could be with someone else. I want you to want me despite not trusting me even one bit. It's a purer kind of desire to me. It's translating that you don't love me because I am kind to you. It's something more intangible, and inexplicable, and deeper than that. You know you feel deeply for something when it's a threat to your well being but you want it anyway.
I want to be like your pet Tigress. Who sleeps next to your pet Lamb (your heart). And when you go to sleep, you'll never know if today's the day you'll wake up to see a bloody heap in my face and a bone in my teeth. And if that's not the case, you'll never know if today's the day I decide to eat you alive.
I'm not saying I want my lover to live in fear - I just want you to love me in spite of not trusting me. This may sound strange, but if you don't get it, I can't explain it. Loving someone in spite of their wost quality is extremely deep to me. And I like feeling and loving and feeling profound while fucking so shit... When you expect worse from me - and you're wearing socks... prepare to have them blowed off. Pun intended.
Don't get me twisted, I like being happy. But I like knowing who I'm rolling with. Is this a light weight? Or can I go through some shit, can I show you the entirety of me - not just my good angles - and still have you?
I consider people who cannot embrace my bad side weak. The minute I smell weakness I become like a shark smelling blood, I just finish you off. I do this because I'm barely ever bad. I like releasing my aggression all at once.
This TRUST I mention is not only about extra-curricular lovers, I'm talking about not trusting me to love you the way you want to be loved. If I can hurt you to an unmanageable point, and you still come back to me - it makes me feel very speshal.
Myone - Only unfulfilled love is romantic.
I dreamed of someone very special last night. I often wonder if the people I incessantly think about are also thinking of me simultaneously. If we could somehow measure brainwaves, wouldn't it be truly profound if we discovered we dream about each other on the same days? Or we had the same dream on the same night? Like when I used to think about you so hard and then suddenly you would call? Or we're calling each other at the same time so we're blocking each others phone lines? And we both leave voice messages at the same time? Remember that?
He’s the only man I know who's bold enough to be angry with me. Hang up on me. Scold me. Question me. Confront me. Truly call me out on my bullshit and properly punish me. Make me own up to myself
He’s not afraid of me.
He fights me like he’s not afraid of loosing me. Even though he has no idea that he's My One. He thinks he's like everyone else. Replaceable. He does this not as to abuse his unknown privileges as the person I cannot release, but to stand up for himself under my tyrannical rule. I love him for this. He doesn't care if he adores me, I have to know that I do shitty shit and I ought to know better. Naughty Girl. He'll risk losing me for equality. For democracy. As if he could live without me.
We can’t even be on the same continent without burning bridges to be together.
I remember when you were so angry with me we didn’t talk for months, and then one day you called and we didn’t even bother apologizing to each other. I could recognize your voice through water. After that you christened my dark side: Thobitchile. (Which has now become a household name).
You’re the only one who has admitted to me that you can NEVER trust me, and it only proved to me that you don’t need trust to love.
I know I can’t be trusted.
My worst fear is that one of us will die before we ever have a chance.
That the one shot we had was all we’ll ever have and we were too young anyway.
He’s the only man I know who's bold enough to be angry with me. Hang up on me. Scold me. Question me. Confront me. Truly call me out on my bullshit and properly punish me. Make me own up to myself
He’s not afraid of me.
He fights me like he’s not afraid of loosing me. Even though he has no idea that he's My One. He thinks he's like everyone else. Replaceable. He does this not as to abuse his unknown privileges as the person I cannot release, but to stand up for himself under my tyrannical rule. I love him for this. He doesn't care if he adores me, I have to know that I do shitty shit and I ought to know better. Naughty Girl. He'll risk losing me for equality. For democracy. As if he could live without me.
We can’t even be on the same continent without burning bridges to be together.
I remember when you were so angry with me we didn’t talk for months, and then one day you called and we didn’t even bother apologizing to each other. I could recognize your voice through water. After that you christened my dark side: Thobitchile. (Which has now become a household name).
You’re the only one who has admitted to me that you can NEVER trust me, and it only proved to me that you don’t need trust to love.
I know I can’t be trusted.
My worst fear is that one of us will die before we ever have a chance.
That the one shot we had was all we’ll ever have and we were too young anyway.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
The Honesty Policy is for Rookies
This is for all the people in the world who like boring the shit out of me with this "honesty policy" talk.
The Honesty Policy: The idea that you can be 100% honest with the person you're in a relationship with.
#KNOWBETTER V.I.P QUOTE: “Practically all the relationships I know are based on a foundation of lies and mutually accepted delusion.” Samantha Jones
The Honesty Policy is part of the collective literature they pass around at the weekly ROOKIE meetings about what a relationship "should" be. It's passed along with the other ones: The 3 month rule, The "you CAN turn a hoe into a housewife/husband" testimonials, I love the real you despite bad sex and/or disease... and all that other bullshit. It's cute because no matter how many meetings they go to, they seriously think the honesty policy is a true and working system.
#knowbetters who only attend one annual meeting where we touch bases, implement new laws, and move on are sincerely trying to help Rookies all over the world understand a few things this year. We can't guarantee it'll take though, you rookies sure can be stubborn.
Rookies, if you cheat - don't ever ever ever confess to your lover about it unless you are ready for the relationship to end. I understand Rookie, you feel Guilty. It's a big burden to bear, but I can't help wondering what you think is going to happen when you confess to someone that you cheated?
Listen to your instinct Rookie.
Only one or maybe even both of the following will occur:
1. You will never be forgiven - so you'll break up.
2. You will forever be punished if you stay together.
And No, you will never be trusted again.
You have to understand that when you tell people you cheated, it's exactly like asking to break up. People who confess up don't get this. They think some Fairy God Mother of The Honestly Policy will wave a wand over the cheatee and they will be touched by the fact that YOU told them, and YOU included the fact that it was killing you that's why you confessed. You think they'll take that into consideration as they remember the day you left them hanging to fuck someone else. You think they'll care that you feel terrible now when they imagine you doing your sex tricks on someone else huh? cute.
One day you will find out that there's a relationship in "Theory" and a relationship in "Actuality"... When thinking about the way you "Want" things and the way they "Are", mind the gap.
The Honesty Policy: The idea that you can be 100% honest with the person you're in a relationship with.
#KNOWBETTER V.I.P QUOTE: “Practically all the relationships I know are based on a foundation of lies and mutually accepted delusion.” Samantha Jones
The Honesty Policy is part of the collective literature they pass around at the weekly ROOKIE meetings about what a relationship "should" be. It's passed along with the other ones: The 3 month rule, The "you CAN turn a hoe into a housewife/husband" testimonials, I love the real you despite bad sex and/or disease... and all that other bullshit. It's cute because no matter how many meetings they go to, they seriously think the honesty policy is a true and working system.
#knowbetters who only attend one annual meeting where we touch bases, implement new laws, and move on are sincerely trying to help Rookies all over the world understand a few things this year. We can't guarantee it'll take though, you rookies sure can be stubborn.
Rookies, if you cheat - don't ever ever ever confess to your lover about it unless you are ready for the relationship to end. I understand Rookie, you feel Guilty. It's a big burden to bear, but I can't help wondering what you think is going to happen when you confess to someone that you cheated?
Listen to your instinct Rookie.
Only one or maybe even both of the following will occur:
1. You will never be forgiven - so you'll break up.
2. You will forever be punished if you stay together.
And No, you will never be trusted again.
You have to understand that when you tell people you cheated, it's exactly like asking to break up. People who confess up don't get this. They think some Fairy God Mother of The Honestly Policy will wave a wand over the cheatee and they will be touched by the fact that YOU told them, and YOU included the fact that it was killing you that's why you confessed. You think they'll take that into consideration as they remember the day you left them hanging to fuck someone else. You think they'll care that you feel terrible now when they imagine you doing your sex tricks on someone else huh? cute.
One day you will find out that there's a relationship in "Theory" and a relationship in "Actuality"... When thinking about the way you "Want" things and the way they "Are", mind the gap.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Why Teases are Sadists.
First: DEFINITIONS.
tease (tz)
v. teased, teas·ing, teas·es
v.tr.
3. To arouse hope, desire, or curiosity in without affording satisfaction.
sa·dism
/ˈseɪdɪzəm, ˈsædɪz-/ Show Spelled[sey-diz-uhm, sad-iz-] Show IPA
–noun
1.
Psychiatry . sexual gratification gained through causing pain or degradation to others. Compare masochism.
2.
any enjoyment in being cruel.
3.
extreme cruelty.
I've had enough of these cocksuckers. My biggest crush of 2009 was a TEASE. I couldn't stand it. I mean, I can't Stand it.
TEASES are people who lure you with the promise of sexual gratification and never satisfy. I'm not talking about illusive eye banter and flirting. I'm talking about straight telling you what they would do to every crevice of you at the drop of a dime. I'm talking about someone you cannot "just fuck" because you're never at the right place for it at the same time. Or in English, someone you work with.
It's the worst when you were never interested in it in the first place. You were hanging out. Doing your thing. Walking your walk. Talking your talk, and here comes this person. Good Looking but no-one you seriously considered until they started selling themselves to you. At first you weren't paying close attention... then suddenly they said the magic words, "What? What did you say? You studied massage? so you KNOW how to hot stone massage?" "Oh, you're a cook? You went to culinary school?" "You'll do WHAT to me after you get me home? Where do I sign, sir?"
So now you're interested. You can't wait to try this new one out. You can't even sleep because you dream about sexing them. They've told you plainly that they have designs. You've started imagining the different parts of their clothed body...
You say, let's meet at the club. Let's meet for a movie. They have other plans. After you think that maybe you're moving too fast. Maybe they want to get to know you first, you change tactics, you start having actual conversations and really getting to know each other. Why aren't they picking you up? After all they came to you right?
Fast forward months later, you stopped talking. You have a flicker of hope that visits you on random and far apart days. Still. You know at the back of your mind, you could entertain how good you think they'd be in bed.
Then, out of the blue, they contact you.
One victim of these Sadists had this to say:
"He ain't on a damn thing... wasted enough time with him.... all that text and talk and not ONE date... and I have offered to meet with him... Flaky ass."
Yes. Sadists take pleasure in the unfulfillment of your desires.
Even if they have to accept the responsibility of inspiring you, which they often will. Their rocks won't get off unless they leave you hanging.
Just like I say on my twitter, how dare you whip out your dick wave it in my face and have me follow it like a hungry dog ready to stand on the back of my legs and bark twice for it. How dare you, sir. I have PEOPLE waiting in LINE and shit! Fuck off you Rhinocerous Pizzle.
tease (tz)
v. teased, teas·ing, teas·es
v.tr.
3. To arouse hope, desire, or curiosity in without affording satisfaction.
sa·dism
/ˈseɪdɪzəm, ˈsædɪz-/ Show Spelled[sey-diz-uhm, sad-iz-] Show IPA
–noun
1.
Psychiatry . sexual gratification gained through causing pain or degradation to others. Compare masochism.
2.
any enjoyment in being cruel.
3.
extreme cruelty.
I've had enough of these cocksuckers. My biggest crush of 2009 was a TEASE. I couldn't stand it. I mean, I can't Stand it.
TEASES are people who lure you with the promise of sexual gratification and never satisfy. I'm not talking about illusive eye banter and flirting. I'm talking about straight telling you what they would do to every crevice of you at the drop of a dime. I'm talking about someone you cannot "just fuck" because you're never at the right place for it at the same time. Or in English, someone you work with.
It's the worst when you were never interested in it in the first place. You were hanging out. Doing your thing. Walking your walk. Talking your talk, and here comes this person. Good Looking but no-one you seriously considered until they started selling themselves to you. At first you weren't paying close attention... then suddenly they said the magic words, "What? What did you say? You studied massage? so you KNOW how to hot stone massage?" "Oh, you're a cook? You went to culinary school?" "You'll do WHAT to me after you get me home? Where do I sign, sir?"
So now you're interested. You can't wait to try this new one out. You can't even sleep because you dream about sexing them. They've told you plainly that they have designs. You've started imagining the different parts of their clothed body...
You say, let's meet at the club. Let's meet for a movie. They have other plans. After you think that maybe you're moving too fast. Maybe they want to get to know you first, you change tactics, you start having actual conversations and really getting to know each other. Why aren't they picking you up? After all they came to you right?
Fast forward months later, you stopped talking. You have a flicker of hope that visits you on random and far apart days. Still. You know at the back of your mind, you could entertain how good you think they'd be in bed.
Then, out of the blue, they contact you.
One victim of these Sadists had this to say:
"He ain't on a damn thing... wasted enough time with him.... all that text and talk and not ONE date... and I have offered to meet with him... Flaky ass."
Yes. Sadists take pleasure in the unfulfillment of your desires.
Even if they have to accept the responsibility of inspiring you, which they often will. Their rocks won't get off unless they leave you hanging.
Just like I say on my twitter, how dare you whip out your dick wave it in my face and have me follow it like a hungry dog ready to stand on the back of my legs and bark twice for it. How dare you, sir. I have PEOPLE waiting in LINE and shit! Fuck off you Rhinocerous Pizzle.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Are You Happy?
This is the main theory by which I live my life. I want things. I will work for those things. While working for them, I will try my best not to complain about the circumstances I am willing to accept to get these things.
I get tired of people who know they're unhappy but want to talk my ear off instead of take action. They'll complain for years and never change the situation, and blame their inaction on something feeble and vague like "love" or "loyalty"
Peace be to you people. This is the only life I'll ever live, and this is not a drill. This is not a dress rehearsal. This is it. Unless you're taking actions to changing a situation, don't complain to me. Don't lean on me, or use me as a veil for facing your own situation for what it is, if it is a pile of shit. Look at your life. Do you like it? If yes, rock on. If not, do something. But whatever you do, don't call me and bitch about it. Quite frankly, I'd rather stare at the ceiling and practice my deep breathing exercises.
x
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Conversations in Passing: Less Baggage. More Sincerity
1. Do you. But if "doing you" is bothering me - please don't involve me. I'm nicer this year, but I'm also on that 247. I'm a quarter of a hundred years old now. I'm not carrying anyone's baggage but mine. Neither should you. I don't want ANY drama this year - and my life is soooooo not dramatic, but other people like bringing their shit into my zen-zone. True.
I mean, there are some things I need to face, like how un-clean my house is. But my lightly messy living spaces are a reflection of my lightly messy brain. I'm not organized. It's not a sin. It doesn't bother me until it bothers me. Hallelujiah. Amen.
But the only bullshit I happily deal with is mine. Yours, uh uh. #stayback #strangerdanger!
2. I'm now Pro-makeup. If you say sorry, please be sincere. Let your actions prove it. Meet each other halfway while en route. I say this because I had an insane amount of apologies last year. Like, again and again and again and again, people were apologizing. I'm not a grudge holder. I love it when I can admit to myself that what I did was fucked up, and I like it when other people can too. But it shouldn't take anything less than my good sense on a sober and uneventful day to say sorry. I pay tons of attention to the timing of these apologies. I like knowing the agenda behind peoples words. Are you really sorry? Or are you just embarrassed and feeling sheepish? That's what I couldn't tell from most of these apologies. One came after they felt under appreciated. Another one came after a peculiar string of revenge bitch! slaps. Another one came on a drunk as fuck moment 8 months After the fact. Another one is a repeat apologizer, and now I don't take anything they say seriously. Should it matter in what context I get an apology? Yes. I want you to be sincerely sorry. Picture this:
You + your neighbor are super cool. One day you and your neighbor get in a tiff. You stop talking. You feel bad. You sincerely want to be friends again. Do you:
1. Apologize
2. Stay Mad, or
2. Just not apologize.
Okay, you do nothing, or you stay mad. One day, your neighbor comes to you with a nice and warm apple pie. They say it's for the cookout you're having, even though they're not staying - They baked it for you, and then they leave.
THEN you say sorry.
Why now?
1. Is it because you feel silly that you just got an apple pie from someone who you've been consciously disregarding? Or is it because
2. You realize that while you were throwing shade and staying mad, this person was baking you a pie. Now what? You've been caught off guard. You were expecting a right, but you got a left? Check mate? Touche? Disarmed?
3. You sincerely felt bad, you just couldn't bring yourself to apologize. And now, you have this pie, and you feel even worse? Because now it's like you're apologizing because of the pie, when with or without the pie - you were sorry.
As you can see... this is what events and actions have in common to me. If you're sorry just say sorry. Don't wait for the day I bring pie to say sorry. It just doesn't sound real and honest. If it was a commercial - I wouldn't buy it.
Also, flowers never hurt nobody.
:)
I mean, there are some things I need to face, like how un-clean my house is. But my lightly messy living spaces are a reflection of my lightly messy brain. I'm not organized. It's not a sin. It doesn't bother me until it bothers me. Hallelujiah. Amen.
But the only bullshit I happily deal with is mine. Yours, uh uh. #stayback #strangerdanger!
2. I'm now Pro-makeup. If you say sorry, please be sincere. Let your actions prove it. Meet each other halfway while en route. I say this because I had an insane amount of apologies last year. Like, again and again and again and again, people were apologizing. I'm not a grudge holder. I love it when I can admit to myself that what I did was fucked up, and I like it when other people can too. But it shouldn't take anything less than my good sense on a sober and uneventful day to say sorry. I pay tons of attention to the timing of these apologies. I like knowing the agenda behind peoples words. Are you really sorry? Or are you just embarrassed and feeling sheepish? That's what I couldn't tell from most of these apologies. One came after they felt under appreciated. Another one came after a peculiar string of revenge bitch! slaps. Another one came on a drunk as fuck moment 8 months After the fact. Another one is a repeat apologizer, and now I don't take anything they say seriously. Should it matter in what context I get an apology? Yes. I want you to be sincerely sorry. Picture this:
You + your neighbor are super cool. One day you and your neighbor get in a tiff. You stop talking. You feel bad. You sincerely want to be friends again. Do you:
1. Apologize
2. Stay Mad, or
2. Just not apologize.
Okay, you do nothing, or you stay mad. One day, your neighbor comes to you with a nice and warm apple pie. They say it's for the cookout you're having, even though they're not staying - They baked it for you, and then they leave.
THEN you say sorry.
Why now?
1. Is it because you feel silly that you just got an apple pie from someone who you've been consciously disregarding? Or is it because
2. You realize that while you were throwing shade and staying mad, this person was baking you a pie. Now what? You've been caught off guard. You were expecting a right, but you got a left? Check mate? Touche? Disarmed?
3. You sincerely felt bad, you just couldn't bring yourself to apologize. And now, you have this pie, and you feel even worse? Because now it's like you're apologizing because of the pie, when with or without the pie - you were sorry.
As you can see... this is what events and actions have in common to me. If you're sorry just say sorry. Don't wait for the day I bring pie to say sorry. It just doesn't sound real and honest. If it was a commercial - I wouldn't buy it.
Also, flowers never hurt nobody.
:)
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I'm happy to report that my advice has saved a relationship. It's day 2 of 2011 and my good karma resolution is hard at work! While I was eating a yummy burger and freezing my tushie off in downtown Chicago, IL on 1111, a girl on the other side of the planet was getting multiple orgasms courtesy of the advice of Yours Truly. Thank you, Thank you. Please, no pictures. First, I'd like to thank Twitter. Couldn't have done it without you. lol
I'm dead ass serious when I say, when in doubt - formspring or tweet it out!
twitter.com/aprettygirlblog
http://www.formspring.me/aprettygirlblog
xxx
I'm dead ass serious when I say, when in doubt - formspring or tweet it out!
twitter.com/aprettygirlblog
http://www.formspring.me/aprettygirlblog
xxx
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