Little Lady with an Opinion ... About Everything!

I’ve always felt that there are 3 main topics that no one will ever truly agree on: Sex, Religion & Politics. That being said, I’ve decided to “go there” as it pertains to sex! 

On Monday nite my husband & I were laying in bed chit chatting & somehow our sex life came up. So this little lady went where no woman should ever go & I asked the all encumbering question of “on a scale of 1 to 10, what would you rate me?” That’s just as bad as asking “do these jeans make me look fat?” However, I’m not your average girl & I prefer the cold, hard, ugly truth so when I ask a question I want a real fucken answer. Well, I sure enough got an answer, but not the one I was expecting. Are you ready to hear what he said?!? He said (and I quote) “You’re a 7 or an 8. On your lazy days you’re about a 3 or a 4.” WHAT?!?!?!? The logical side of me appreciated his honesty, but the girly emotional side of me wondered what the hell was keeping me from being a 10 in his eyes. (I also love how he threw out 2 numbers for each scale, but c’mon, you know I only heard the lower of the 2.) Bro, I’m his wife! So does that mean I should be an automatic 10? Yes! No, I’m just kidding. Nothing should ever be automatic especially when it comes to matters of the heart or, in this case, the vagina. I want to earn that 10 & not just be given a pass because he put a ring on it. And here I thought we had this amazing sex life, but all of that was diminished the minute he put up those figures. Okay, I’m being overly dramatic now. :) 

So what makes anyone a 10? Or a 9? By the way, I would’ve been happy with a 9. I think there are many different things that have to be taken into consideration when judging someone sexually & then putting a number on how good or bad they are. Since I can only speak for myself, I’ll give you a glimpse into my sex-o-meter scale. First things first, kissing!! I’ve always lived by the rule of “if you can’t kiss, you can’t fuck.” Plain & simple. The rule says it all &, therefore, needs no further explanation. Kissing is the catalyst or the jump off, if you will, for the sexual escapade that’s about to take place. If he can’t get that right what makes you think he’s gonna be able to find the sweet spot? He probably won’t so, next! Now I know most ladies look forward to foreplay because this is when you get to be ravished, but sometimes I find it to be overrated. There are moments when you just want to pushed up against a wall or thrown on the bed & taken right then & there. No speaking, just action … pure, unadulterated, carnal SEX. (and that, ladies & gentlemen, would be considered a 10!) But don’t get it twisted guys,  foreplay is almost always necessary because us women don’t get our kitty purring that easily. We are creatures that need to be mentally stimulated in bed so that means “you gotta lick it before you stick it”. Or something along those lines, if you follow my gist. Alas, I’ve saved the best for last!! The actual act of sex, love making, banging … whatever you choose to label it as. Let’s explore what each of those labels mean to me real quick.

Sex is just that: sex. It’s a means to an end. You’re looking to get off, no more no less. That’s the K.I.M. business (keep it movin’) or a quickie. It’s still good no matter what way you look at it because you’re getting what you want out of it & if you’re not, well then you’re doing it wrong!

Love making is sensual & you don’t necessarily have to be in love with the person, but rather have a passion for them. It’s fiery, romantic, lascivious and all those other great synonyms!!! This particular form of sex should be reserved for special occasions or when you wanna bring out the big guns & blow someone away because it should never be taken for granted. I think you bare your soul in the art of love making & I don’t make a habit of showing it too often because then it becomes under appreciated. Feel me?!?

Banging sounds so horrible, but I think it’s just gotten a bad rap. That shit is erotic! Sometimes it feels good to simply get fucked, even if you don’t climax. There’s no rule that says you have to orgasm every single time you have a sexual adventure. Being penetrated can be just as good as any orgasm or at least that’s my opinion.

Have I been too vulgar? Good, my goal was to be controversial & arousing at the same time. With all that being said, there are many factors that go into handing out a simple number on a scale of 1 to 10. Few guys know how to do all of the above with expert skill & these few are an automatic 10, maybe even some plus signs (++) thrown in there too. Others got 1 or 2 down pat so their score may be anywhere from the 4 to 8 zone, this depends on how proficient they are at either or both. We all know a good cunnilingus can make a man’s score change at any given time! Meaning, he might not be all that with his apparatus, but he’s got talent with that tongue so he may have potentially been a 4, but now he’s a 6. 

I bet most of you are wondering how my husband ranks in all of this &, if you must know, my Daddy is a certifiable 10. I can hear the audible moans now, but seriously I’m not bullshitting (trust me, he told me I was full of caca too). What makes him a 10 is the fact that not only is he at “expert level” (in my eyes), but through out the years we’ve perfected what works for us. Also, the love we have for each other adds to that number. Truth be told, he wasn’t that good the very first time we had relations & I told him so right after, but then he redeemed himself a few hours later. In his defense, we were pretty tore up so that’s why I granted him another go at it. Even on his laziest days he’s still, at least, a 6. See that honey, I only gave you ONE number each time because I don’t teeter on the fence buddy!

I never got a definitive reason as to why my number is what it is, but if I can speak frankly I think it should be a 9. I know what I’m doing in bed, shit I’m a pro at this. I was built for sex. I may not go all out every single time we hit it, but after being together for 6 1/2 years I think I’ve more than earned my stripes & put it on him enough to be considered a 9! Wouldn’t you agree?? j/k

I hope after reading this I’ve inspired you to go home & try to prove your number to your significant other or, at best, help change your rating with whoever you have in your rotation at the moment (lover, booty call, etc).

“I wanna own you, I wanna consume you! Get all molecular & pass myself through you.” — Melanie Fiona

Sexually charged,

LL

I’ve been meaning to listen to Frank Ocean’s new album for quite some time now & I have to say that I regret wasting my entire drive to work on such nonsense. I’ve NEVER fast forwarded through songs on any album I’ve ever listened to, but I found myself hitting that button 3 times!!! There were at least 4 intro’s/outro’s mixed in with this “album”, which says you have no substance so you have to use fillers. I was trying really hard to relate to at least one of the songs, but he was singing about how he feels uncomfortable around rich kids, someone smoking crack rock in abandoned houses & how peaches, mangoes & limes make a sweet life. What’s even more shocking to me is that he’s written songs for John Legend, Beyonce & Justin Bieber. The last 2 I can understand, but John Legend?!? Not John Legend!!!! 

I’m open to all kinds of music. However comma I just can’t deal with shitty shit. I’m sorry con permiso, but I don’t get the hype that surrounded this guy. I feel dumber for having listened to Channel Orange. That’s all!

“Music is to the soul what words are to the mind” — Modest Mouse

Hate is such a strong word, no? That’s why I chose loathe instead. It has a nicer ring to it, don’t you agree? If you don’t, you probably won’t wanna read this blog & in that case: move along! But I bet you will because I’ve already piqued your interest by the catchy-ness of title.

This particular blog was born from my proclivity to always proclaim “I hate it when __________” or “I hate _________”, so in one of my “I hate” moments in the car with my husband I told him I was going to blog about all these things & just update it periodically as I come across some other things that I find an abomination. 

Please note that these are in no particular order & I’m numbering them so I can keep track of my hatefulness. :)

This little lady hates / loathes / despises / dislikes:

1. Waking up early in the morning unless it’s the weekend or I have the day off from work.

2. Stupid people

3. Bad drivers. I’ve come up with a pretty nifty solution & that’s to create a device that monitors your driving & if you’re shitty then you’ll be placed in a separate lane with all the other shitty drivers! Boom, problem solved & you can all drive each other crazy instead of us normal, good drivers.

4. People who can’t spell or use proper grammar. Get a dictionary/thesaurus yo!

5. Snobs

6. Child abusers

7. Cockroaches!!! This should really be #1, but since I posted that disclaimer I can’t change it now. I seriously get sweaty palms & my heart starts racing whenever I see one. They’re like totally gross & any “thing” that can squeeze through a fucken crack just ain’t right. That shit ain’t right son.

8. Chics who rock open toe’d shoes or sandals without a pedicure. Por favor, keep those talons covered up. And use some damn lotion on your feet before you go to bed if you can’t afford a pedicure. Also, a little cuticle oil wouldn’t hurt either.

9. Liars

10. Tickets / Moving Violations

11. When my husband jumps to turn over in the bed instead of simply rolling over. He succeeds in shaking the entire damn bed, waking me up & sometimes scaring the buh-JESUS out of me.

12. Close minded people. In the words of En Vogue “Free your mind & the rest will follow!”

13. People who take of their shoes while they’re eating in a restaurant or sit Indian style. My Dad always told me that if you get into the habit of doing that home that you’ll take it with you in public. Guess he was right!

14. Insomnia … I can’t get no sleep.

15. Burpees

16. Any form of cardio that’s not sex!

17. NSF bank fees. I’ve come to the conclusion that Bank of America is run by thieves.

18. Twitter. I’ve really tried, but I just can’t seem to get into it. It just looks so boring & a bit messy with all the stuff in the feed. Blah!

I thought that maybe “sleeping on it” would make me feel better about what happened last night, but turns out: IT DIDN’T! I’m actually more fucken pissed off now that I had a chance to marinate. Okay, okay so let me start at the very beginning because as Julie Andrews said it’s a “very good place to start!!” I was all excited about finally seeing Dirty South (fuck you, no I haven’t ever seen him … yes, it’s just one guy) so I was even more excited that Daddy (my husband) was down to hit up LIV for this little excursion. Now, if you’ve ever been to LIV you know that this club gets ridiculously packed on a Wednesday nite & the only way to roll is to be posted up on top of the couches in the V.I.P. section, which is exactly where this little lady planted her happy ass. This would turn out to be the undoing of my entire nite. Picture it: it’s about 12:45am, the club is still filling up at that point & the section we’re in still has actual breathing room so this one girl comes & sits up on the top of the couches, like me, doesn’t even bother to try & assume to be friendly or offer a mere “hello” or smile in my direction, but then she DEMANDS; “can you move over”. Mind you, the entire section we’re sitting on still has more than enough room to comfortably fit about 6 chicas & this heffer is by herself!!! Okay, no problem, I scoot my “happy” ass over about 3 inches so as to accommodate girl with the ugly jacket. All of sudden 2 of her homegirls roll up, clamber their way up to where we’re sitting & the one who looks like Big Ang from Mob Wives proceeds to stab my big toe with her heel. There was no apology that followed that toe massacre, but what she did do was lean her big ass nose & body across me to greet some people who were to my left. Again, no apology or excuse me … she just leaned on me like I was non-existent. At this point I’m having an internal dialogue that went something like this: “Andrea, just relax. Maybe she didn’t see you, maybe it’s dark in here, maybe she didn’t feel her heel going into the meaty part of your toe, maybe she didn’t feel your big ass tits that she just leaned across ..” Maybe I was trying to talk myself out of punching this cunt in the throat, just maybe! Oh but it gets better my friends. So I now have a close eye on this bitch trio because a nosy ho like me needs to know what the fuck they’re up to. I watched them shit talk about every girl in the section (including me), hijack 2 of the Grey Goose bottles (one of which ended up in the corner behind girl with the ugly jacket) & 2 of them spilled countless contents of their drinks on my bare legs. I truly don’t mind the shit talking because I’m more than guilty of it, but these FUGLY skanks were trying to act all brand new. Bro, at least when I’m chilling in VIP I make friends with the people around me, but these bitches just thought they were extra special & were complete whores. Not to mention that they weren’t all that pretty to begin with … that might explain why they were so wretched. And I swear I’m not being a “hater”, they really weren’t that cute. My husband is eyeing me through the girls asses that are now in my face & he can see that something is amiss so he comes to sit next to me to assess the situation. When I start to explain to him what I’ve endured for the past hour he just poo-poo’s my tale of woe & says that I need to lighten up, or something to that affect. (I would like to point out that some dude we just met was having the same problem on his side of the VIP section, only it was coming from another guy…. well, he wasn’t wearing heels or shit talking about other chics, but he was being a complete asshole). Yeah, so back to my non-supportive hubby who only succeeded in aggravating me even more (has he learned nothing in the past 6 years of our union?!?), but, again, I have another internal dialogue that goes like this: “ANDREA, STOP BEING A BITCH & TRY TO HAVE FUN IN SPITE OF THE FACT THAT THESE HEFFERS HAVE NOW SLOWLY INCHED YOU OFF THE SPOT YOU ORIGINALLY CLAIMED BEFORE ANY OF THEM GOT THERE & ONE OF THEM HAS BUMPED YOU IN THE HEAD AT LEAST 5 TIMES WITH HER PURSE BECAUSE SHE INSISTS ON STANDING ON TOP OF THE COUCHES TO SHAKE HER NON-EXISTENT ASS!!” I’m sorry, but I was screaming because a) it was super loud in the club & b) I was trying to talk some sense into myself.

To add insult to injury, fire to to flame, salt on the wound … 2 other girls jump up on the couch, right in front of me, & just stood there gyrating their hips inches from my beautiful eyes. At least the one with the black & white dress had a decent ass so I didn’t mind her so much. What I did mind was the fact that neither one of them had the decency to at least say “Hey, is it okay if I shake what my Mama gave me right in your site of view, you know, since I’m going to be standing in such a way that I prohibit any & all thoughts you had of trying to see Dirty South while he spins?” I’ve never wanted to leave a club so badly as I did at that moment, but I saw that Daddy & Chicken Little were having such a great time so I was NOT going to be the party pooper, which I pointed out to my husband (just so I could have that shit to use on him at a later date). I was also secretly hoping that one of these girls would topple over on the couch & make my nite, but it didn’t happen. I even contemplated “accidentally” shoving one of them, but that didn’t happen either. 

When we got in the car & I recounted my miserable time to my husband he said that I was being a bitch earlier in the evening so I was just destined to not have a good time … pfffft, feck you sir & the horse you rode in on! So what was the highlight of my nite you ask (besides leaving)????? There was someone decked out in this get up that looked like a Robo-Cop / Iron Man looking thingy, on stilts, & it was all lit up!!! Shyeah, totally made my exit from the club much more memorable. I need a re-do, ctrl-alt-delete, shake of the etch-a-sketch of Dirty South.

Alright, so in true Mean Girl fashion I wish that those girls have an itch they can’t scratch & a brain freeze that lasts for about 10 minutes (anything more than that would just be cruel, right?)

“You act like arrogance is a virtue.”

“I might be drunk, but you’re ugly & tomorrow I’ll be sober.”

Yours,

LL

My normal morning routine is to watch/listen to Channel 7 news while I’m getting ready for work & one story they featured today is what motivated this blog. Have you ever been so far down & out that you wondered just how you’re going to pay your bills, feed your family, etc.? Well, there’s a special website that caters to people who need help & those who wish to donate. I know, pretty fucken fantastic right?!? You can set up a profile as a donor, business, charity or an individual in need. It’s kinda like Facebook, but with a much better purpose. 

Back when I was a single Mom I had quit my job because I worked for a conniving, lying, lunatic &, ethically, I just couldn’t take one more day there, but I made sure that she would approve me for unemployment (I had to sign a confidentiality agreement before I left, but refused to sign it until she put in writing that she would grant me unemployment) & I was living off of $1,000 a month. Mind you, I was making about triple that amount a month so things got real rough. I learned how to finagle my finances by cutting back on everything. I was down to the absolute bare necessities & that was rent, power & food. Thankfully, my son wasn’t at the age where he was in school yet, but I can’t tell you how many peanut butter & jelly or tuna sandwiches I ate during those months! We also took the bus everywhere … however, that was actually the fun part because I tried to make it an adventure for us. If only one of these websites had existed back then maybe our quality of life would’ve been different, although (I hate to sound so cliche but I’m gonna go there) if it weren’t for that struggle I would never appreciate all the awesomeness that has become my life today! 

The name of the website is www.helpcup.org … pay it forward man! One day the shoe may be on the other foot & I sure do hope it’s a designer one.

“We can’t help everyone, but everyone can help someone.” - Ronald Reagan

Yours,

LL

The title to my blog should be a clue as to the journey we’re about take. I’m sure many of us come from broken homes & we somehow think ours takes the cake … but seriously, I’ve yet to meet anyone who had to live with Mommy Dearest. Yes, I’m talking Joan Crawford, no more wire hangers, waking you up in the middle of the nite to clean the bathroom type shit. That was my home! 

I’ve been debating on whether or not to write this blog for a few months now because of the sensitive subject, but it’s my story & maybe someone out there can relate. 

From a very young age I’ve always felt that my Mom did a really good job of destroying anything good in my life. She would drag us to custody court hearings & did whatever she could to make my Dad look like a piece of shit. However, he didn’t really help matters. Now that I’m older I can see some of the other side, but I just wish he had fought harder for us. At that time we were his only blood daughters yet we were treated like the step-kids. The fights over money, the physical abuse from both our Mom & step-mom were just ridiculous. I felt like some fucken pawn piece in their crazy little chess game. But no matter what, I still stood up for my Dad .. until that one day where he promised to come get us & I waited for hours in the hallway with my bags packed. I remember my sister saying “Dad’s not coming” & I yelled back “Yes he is!” My heart was forever broken & from that day forward I never trusted a word he said. The quiet hate inside me just grew. I always wondered what I did wrong & why he loved his new kids more than me. But it’s so much more complicated than that. However, I wouldn’t find that out until about 3 years ago. It took more than half of my life to put these pieces back together &, truth be told, there are still HUGE holes in that puzzle. I wonder if I’ll ever know, but I find comfort in the fact that when the time is right everything will come to the surface. I remember hearing the song ‘Family Portrait’ by Pink & this one part conveyed exactly how I felt about this whole situation:

“Can we work it out? Can we be a family? I promise I’ll be better. Daddy please don’t leave! .. I know that she hurts you, but remember I love you too”

Growing up in a home of abuse can either make or break you. Thankfully, this little lady don’t break! For as long as I can remember there was always some sort of corporal punishment being administered to one of us kids. We were made to stand in a corner to the point of exhaustion (I actually fell down from how long I had been standing in that particular corner!), kneel on uncooked rice, do push up’s on our knuckles on the hard, cold tile … my parents even had a special paddle made that was wrapped in black electrical tape, you know, for good measure. My step-dad was old school Cuban, but my Mom, well she was just white girl Italian crazy. This is a woman who could mentally, physically, & verbally berate you to the point where you just wanted to kill a bitch! On top of that she was obsessed with cleanliness, so on any given day you could come home to find that she had dumped all your drawers & closet contents into the middle of your room & she would emphatically exclaim ” your room isn’t clean, NOW PUT IT BACK TOGETHER!” Bro, we even had a towel folding session. There was even a time where she had come home at 2am (or some ungodly hour) & declared that we hadn’t washed & dried the dishes properly so she proceeded to wake our happy asses up & make us wash, dry & put back every single thing in every single cupboard in the kitchen. Ah yes, those drunken rages of hers were quite spectacular. I was beaten so severely by her, when I was in 6th grade, that I had to wear turtlenecks & pants to school for about a week. And all because I sneaked clothes to school (uniforms weren’t mandatory, but she, of course, made me wear them!)

However, I think what got me the most was the hateful, awful things she would spew during her infamous rants. They ranged from “you’re stupid, you’ll never amount to anything, you’re nothing but a whore, you weren’t supposed to be born, etc.” The pinnacle to the insanity was when she actually put a knife up to my sister & threatened to cut her breasts off .. all because she had worked herself into some jealous rage. I will never understand what drives a person to physically harm their own child. I find it demeaning & disrespectful to put your hands on your kid in a fit of anger. 

Now don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of good times in my childhood despite all this locura & when I tell you that Christmas morning looked like Santa had set up shop in our house, that’s putting it mildly. But I always felt as if we were being bought off. It’s like Christmas was our reward for putting up with all her demented shenanigans. I would love to remember any semblance of normalcy we had growing up, but I carry such hurt from all the damage she did, so those “good” memories just fade in the distance & give way to the senseless shit.

This story runs deeper than I care to dictate, but I find it cathartic to write. I also want to convey the fact that I turned out quite remarkable despite being a product of such a shattered home. I’ve never let what’s happened to me mandate the outcome of my life, but rather seen it as a blueprint for how I currently raise my son. I don’t put him down, I build him up. I point out that no dream is too small or big. I emphasize what an incredible Dad he has. I tell him I love him every single day even when I’m mad at him. However, the most triumphant part is that I’m not repeating history & I’m SHOWING my son what it is to grow up in a normal, loving home. That, my friends, is the cream cheese icing on the cake!! Thanks for letting me share :)

“Once upon a time there was a girl,

In her early years she had to learn

How to grow up living in a war that she called home,

Never know just where to turn for shelter from the storm.”

When was the last time you paid $8.75 for a sandwich?!? When the waitron nonchalantly laid down the bill & I saw that price for an omelette sandwich I almost had a melt down. Well, if you ask my husband he would definitely say I had a full blown melt down, but fuck me … $8.75????? I just couldn’t let this slide, much to the Mr.’s embarrassment. Now before I went off on the window lady I did some 007 work & perused the menu to get an idea of what their pricing structure was. The desayuno (breakfast for my gringo friends) special is $5.95 & you can get scrambled eggs with some kind of meat, tostada, hashbrowns or fries AND a cafe con leche. So why the fuck are they charging me $8.75 for the same thing minus the cafe con leche? Did I pay for extra for them having to place the eggs inside the bread & put it in that tin foil laden bread smasher thingy?? Oh no, according to window pane there’s a $1 charge per extra ingredient (ham & swiss cheese). Que que? So on the desayuno special I can get the meat included in the cost, but when I want a sandwich I have to pay extra for it? AND I don’t get a cafe con leche? AND I’m paying $2.80 more? I’m no mathematician, but something doesn’t jive here. I was ‘splaining this to window lady & this numb nuts was looking at me like I had sprouted an extra head … I could see that it wasn’t computing in her pint sized brain. I wanted so badly to argue my case but, when under pressure, my Spanish speaking skills diminish & my point gets lost. My vernacular is much better in English & I get to use smart sounding big words, which we all know helps when you’re trying to negotiate an $8.75 sandwich! I also had my non-confrontational husband shrinking beside me on the bench & I’m sure he was thinking “I just wanted an omelette sandwich & this bitch is about to ruin it!” It’s okay, he can call me a bitch in his head. 

So we left, minus the cafe con leche, but next time I promise not to go down so easily. I’ll use verbs in the wrong context & add o’s to the end of words to get my point across, but dammit I will NEVER pay $8.75 for an omelette sandwich EVER again. 

FUCK YOU LATIN AMERICA CAFE … ON PINES BLVD.

*** SPOILER ALERT: For those who haven’t started reading I disclose some important parts, but not in great detail so read at your own risk ***

It finally happened. I succumbed to the hype & started reading 50 Shades of Grey last night. I stayed up until 3am reading the first 12 chapters & here’s my take thus far —- first, I’ve come to realize that just about every woman is an undercover ho/freak. I can’t tell you how many FB posts & tweets I’ve seen from women singing their praises for this Adonis character. I know I’m only 12 chapters into a trilogy pero homeboy is a serious masochist, a cold, calculating asshole at times & the only thing I find remotely attractive about him is his looks & maybe just a little of his power. And, ladies, I’d like to point out that Mr. Christian Grey has copper hair & gray eyes so stop posting photos of dudes with black hair & blue eyes! 

Okay, so Mr. Grey has some serious Daddy/Mommy issues & comes off, so far, as a deeply troubled soul. Hence the reason for his need to be so domineering, but he obviously has some kind of heart under all that steel because it’s apparent he’s smitten with Anastasia. BUT, hold the motherfucken pay phone for a second Superman … did he just ask her to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement prior to them engaging in any type of coitus?!? AND give her a contract describing what Dominant & Submissive will and won’t do (safe words & all)?!? She’s basically being asked to enter into a Master/Slave relationship. which is to last for 3 months, wherein he has full power over her. He has a “playroom”, which I will leave that to your imagination, but I will point out that Anastasia calls it the “Red Room of Pain.” Yeah, how about no. The only part of the contract that I actually like & would concede to is the personal trainer 4 times a week, him buying me clothes & lingerie & paying for beauty salon services, but that would make me somewhat of an escort, right?! Not that I have a problem with that, just pointing out the obvious. 

So skip ahead a chapter or two here & they get their freak on. What’s the clincher you ask? She’s a 21 year old virgin, has never masturbated yet she has her first orgasm from him playing with her nipples alone. Then she goes on to have 2 more orgasms via penetration (rough penetration on the first one I might add, which she likes despite the fact that she’s tighter than a vacuum packed jar) Oh & then this little virgin is all of sudden a fellatio expert. I ain’t buying it sister! I’m calling shenanigan’s on this whole first encounter. 

Anywho, it’s definitely an interesting read although the author’s prose could use some variety because she overly uses the words hitch/hitched, holy crap, oh crap & oh my. I have to admit that I now must know how this story ends & I’m sure I’ll be writing a few more blogs as I get deeper into the grey area. 

“Reading will give you lasting pleasure” — Laura Bush

Let me preface this blog by saying that I’m NOT political in any sense of the word. I just try to keep up with current events, if you will, so pardon my ignorance in the following rant. In the absence of my satellite radio subscription in my car, I’ve been reduced to listening to talk radio 610 WIOD … wait … when the hell did I become such an old fart that I actually ENJOY listening to talk radio while I’m driving?!? Even I surprise the hell out of myself sometimes!

Anyway, so for weeks I’ve been listening to the idiocracy of Glenn Beck every morning and, even though, at times he seems to make some sort of sense he somehow manages to take about 50 steps back with one of his Baptist preacher-like proclamations about how our nation is about to completely go under & you must save yourself, yada, yada, yada … he must be cousins with Chicken Little because dude lives under a perpetually falling sky.

This particular morning he was bashing Al Sharpton for his sudden change of heart with the whole Trayvon Martin issue. Now that charges have been filed against Zimmerman, Al Sharpton has now begun to talk about love & peace (in the very beginning he wasn’t so nice about how he felt this situation should’ve been handled), which Glenn Beck seems to have a problem with because, at the onset of this tragedy, Sharpton was, of course, on his racial soap box. I, in no way, condone most of Al Sharpton’s actions and I too believe that many times he’s the first one in line to beat that racial card to death, BUT I have to call a spade a spade in this instance. Here Glenn Beck is calling Sharpton out for promoting love, etc., etc., but this is the same man who is hosting a 3 day convention in Dallas, TX. called “Restoring Love” … the same man who, on a daily basis, “urges” his listeners to purchase his bible propaganda, invest in Goldline.com, & has an entire radio company named Mercury, which in case you don’t know is an element known to be highly toxic. I find it highly appropriate that he would choose this name for his company because if you listen to this lunatic for too long you’ll become infected with his irreverent, retarded rhetoric. Bro, live & let live. Stop trying to make something out of nothing. Mind your ‘effin business. There’s a reason why you got fired from FOX News & that’s saying a lot because they’re the worst news company in the history of news stations, yet THEY fired YOU! Glenn Beck was too fucken crazy for FOX News, oh the irony! 

With that being said, I banish him to the island!!! That’s an inside joke, but basically it means that I’d wish he’d fall off the planet … or be sent to Pluto … or go work for Marshall’s by Marshall’s … AGAIN, these last 2 things are seriously inside jokes, but if you knew where they originated from you’d completely agree with me. Or not. I could give a rats ass whichever way. hehe

“Poets, priests and politicians,
Have words to thank for their positions.
Words that scream for their submission,
And no one’s jamming their transmission.
‘Cos when their eloquence escapes you
Their logic ties you up and rapes you!!”

Oh but where to begin with this topic?!? I’ve never been the type of chic who rolls with a huge posse of girlfriends. I normally was hanging with my brother’s friends, much to his chagrin, but for some reason I just gravitated towards guys because they were so uncomplicated. I have 3 women friends: my sister Meredith, my best friend Yesenia of 22 years & Strawberry (aka Angie). These 3 women are the only ones that I trust implicitly (and my husband too, but he’s a guy friend & I’m talking about my girl friends for now). Most girls I’ve met say the same thing about having girl friends. The main complaints are that they are drama llama’s, catty, untrustworthy, etc. But au contraire, mon frere, I believe that most times we are so quick to want to relate to another female that we miss all the signs & red flags these so-called friends throw our way. I’m of the opinion that when someone shows you who they are the first time, believe them! I pay attention to what people tell me & then watch what they actually do because most times these chics just run their mouth about who they want you to think they are. 

Let me elucidate you with the red flags I’ve encountered —

Red flag: Ms. Independent: When a female says that she doesn’t have any girl friends because she can’t trust them. Shyeah, right! More often than not she’s the one who can’t be trusted so just do yourself a favor & walk away from that one because she’s gonna come in like a F5 tornado & fuck shit up in your life. 

Red flag: Flip flopping floozy: The one who gets drunk, flirts with your man & every other guy in the joint, but has a boyfriend. This one usually claims that she really wants to break up with her man, but doesn’t know how. Yet she’s all lovey-dovey with him AND they’re still together. She’s as needy as they come & I just don’t have the patience for phony’s & liars, which she’s both. NEXT!

Red flag: Stage 5 clinger: This type is kinda tricky because she’s always very sweet & unassuming, but then she becomes like that booger you get stuck on your finger & you’re waving it out the window, trying to flick it off, but alas IT’S STILL THERE!! She’s the one who becomes your bestie after 30 minutes of meeting you. In my opinion, this is the worst one because she’s normally a wacka-doo. Run far, far away & never look back.

Listen, I’m not hating on mademoiselle’s, pero I’ve come across some real bitches in my lifetime. And while I’m a very honest & open person, I’m also very careful about the friends I keep. Sure, I have lots of lady acquaintances & most of them are extremely wonderful ladies, but I just choose to keep my girl friend circle tight. Quality over quantity is how I feel. I’ve been burned by a few lady friends in my time, but they’ve each taught me something very valueable, which is that real friends are hard to come by so hold on & nurture the awesome ones in your life.

“A friend is someone who sees through you & still enjoys the view!”