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/

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!

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.

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.

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?

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.

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