“So what, you’re a lesbian now?” I was running errands on a Tuesday afternoon and knocking out phone calls all the same. This particular call being with my favorite go-go agent. We were having a periodic checkin. T’s girl on girl blurb came in the midst of him attempting to explain the rationale behind going to two different New York Deli’s just to assemble one egg and cheese croissant. Crazy shyt.
“Why don’t you cook?” I asked.
“I don’t have time,” he said mumbling words to someone in the background. I only new it had something to do with the late breakfast he was trying to order.
“Where’s your girl?”
“At work,” he laughed with ‘where in the hell did you think she’d be’ undertones.
I left that one alone…changed the subject.
“Oh my gosh I ate way too much over the weekend and can’t even think about food.” I went on to explain how I’d chosen to skip penis handouts, dress up super cute and frolic around the city stuffing my face with the Gucci crew. That would be Kimora, Nik, Elaina this go round. Twist for early dinner Saturday, Brunch at Brio Sunday, dinner at Cheesecake Sunday night. Are you serious? Sometimes I just go overboard and my tummy is still laughing at my ambitious goal to bask on one sunny patio after another like I’m Cleopatra or somethin.
How T and I got from egg & cheese breakfasts to lesbians is beyond my call but nothing is impossible when verbally engaged with either of us two. Did I set out and subsequently achieve my ultimate quest to get me shum last weekend? Heckz NO. As of yesterday I hadn’t gotten nada. Not because it wasn’t there – and if I really wanted to keep it real, I would say not even because I arranged for the boom boom jump off twice and….bailed both times. I’m not really sure exactly why I chickened out despite my body calling like the sweetest R Kelly jam, but I know one thing: I’ve surely surprised myself!
T’s rationale for me turning down a little pole action last weekend despite my virginal walls impersonating Home Depot’s lowest grade sand paper was that I was a lesbian. Man, what? How could a woman like Black Girl go soooo long without getting it to win it and not be gay? Are we talking about penises or umbilical chords here? I can exist without the sex. Or can I?
It’s only when you stop doing something for a certain period of time that you gain clarity and see the depth in which you’ve been engulfed by that habit. Sex addict? Nah, I think I had other, deeper reasons and motivators that have seemingly cured themselves with age, wisdom and time so…why mention them now. But now that I’ve given it thought I think it’s the allure that keeps me tied to my own sexual desire. The allure of many things. The chase and challenge. The allure of the scent on his shirt when he walks past me for the first time. The allure of enjoying something new…something different. The allure of wondering the next move or even calculating outcomes. This thing, allure, seems to be the criminal that keeps me going back even though I’d like to go in a direction that’s the better way. Hence my back and forth and psycoschizoidism in whether or not to get me meez or leave it be.
I unno. I just can’t see myself being ‘sex’ less until I come across the fairy tale relationship that we’re all taught to dream for. Of course I’d like to save it for the best man but am I being realistic or too hard on myself? Playing make believe with my choice of the season will most certainly have to do and I’m probably going to have to let myself just be… Me.
Libido’s back and this means trouble. I woke up at 8:00 am this morning thinking grown girl thoughts and wondering, “Who the heck and why now?”
I’d been doing a great job keeping my Kilimanjaro to my self. It was the safe way, the best way. I really had to get my energy back in full reserve so that I could continue on the journey of minding my own damn business. So yea, reserve’s back in full swing. I’m focused, things are moving, I’m happy and now I’m hella h****!
It was maybe the fourth or fifth thing I did after washing my face this morning but…I got my scroll on. Ironically I’d started deleting numbers out of my phone at an event last night so I’d shot myself in the leg so to say. I passed name by name in my PDA and nothing spoke to me. Wasn’t feeling it and I feel stuck in my own stinking matrix. My need to itch and scratch is going to put me in one of two places: I’ll either have to go back to my past and get one (or two) for the road or I’ll have to venture out into new territory and toy with a boy I’d never ‘known’ before. This is the very dilemma that has kept me in this what I wanna say three month drought. I don’t wanna do either. Fuggeemmalllll! But I can’t really say that because its not realistic. It’s just the process of getting there that blows my high and leaves me turning down more dates than I go on. Maybe I just haven’t met my match?
Did I dial? Nah…but I did text lol. We’ll see. My Saturday is a full one but I got this evening flagged in my planner where I’d scribbled the words, “Get Yours.”
The streets aren’t safe tonight. Mwwuahahaha.
Filed under: The Art of Storytellin' | Tags: buckhead, crazy, justin's atlanta, peachtree rd., starbuck's
A fresh Friday indeed and it has been another good week. I’ve had my head buried in the computer and books, researching and writing, scribbling ideas and pecking out thoughts like a mad hatter conjuring up his biggest prize. A few breaks in between, Sol Fusion with Doc & Sasha, a late night drive with Christian, PTA Movie night lol…had to break it up but all in all you get the drift.
I’m realizing how truly incredibly off in the mind some people are. Sure I’m one of them but for all of this time I thought I was one of the chosen few and everyone else was normal. I think that’s exactly what the world and society wants you to think. That you’re not something if you do a certain this. But really, normal is horribly relative and I no longer feel guilty for thinking that the next person needs therapy or a tall ice-cold glass to snuggle up and talk to.
I rewarded my early start with a trip to Starbuck’s this morning. Decided to take a spot in the drive-thru vs. parking and walking inside. For some reason, the speed demon in the Mercedes behind me thinks I’m going to park and zooms around me. Swerves the big body in close hoping to jump in but there wasn’t room. She slams on her breaks, car parallel to mine, rolls down her window and yells, “What the Fuck are you gonna do? Park or ride park or ride?” She was older and her voice was strained. The jowls on her neck jiggled as she screamed and waved her hand. (Sidebar: What’s crazy is that I’m writing about this lady’s jiggling neck meat.) She had this crazy big black poodle pouncing around in the back seat getting just as psycho as she was, barking and slobbing all kinds of nonsense. I just looked at the both of them and laughed. Out Loud. They were utter fools so I simply I inched my car back to give her angry ass just enough space to get in front of me, thus getting the :45 second head start on her day she’d fought so hard to get. Crazy witch.
I managed to acquire my caffine fix with all limbs attatched, but forgot I’d need gas to even get into work. Made a quick stop at the BP across from Justin’s to fill up. Do the usual, walk in to pay leaving the pump in my tank. When I came back outside there was a homeless man squeegeeing my dashboard and I was pissed. Not that he’d tried to do a good deed and get his hustle on at the same time, but because ole boy did it without asking. Ugh.
“Excuse me! I’m good I’m good sir.” I was walking in double pace trying to get his attention.
“Oh oh, I was tryna help you out miss. Okay?” He didn’t look too bad off but I guess you really don’t have to look bad off when you’re hungry. I reached in my bag and gave him three dollars. Do you know this fool looked at the three dollars looked back at me and frowned, “Damn baby this all you got?”
Park or ride, park or ride, lol.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: human contract trailer, jada pinkett, time heals, tnt
ok please don’t kill me, lol. I’ve totally been cheating and posting tid bits of stuff and not writing much. I’ve just been really busy in a good way! (smiling) Lots of great things are happening…just stepping my game up a little. I’ll be updating soon but wanted to post Jada’s latest…looking forward to this and her first writing and directorial debut! Hubby exec produced. I’m so glad these two did not do another cli(chay) black film with a star-studded cast consisting of one of our ‘black hollywood’ representatives. I’m tired of those. I think she’s going to bring a lot of life to this new TV role as well. The sooner they recognize what us girls are capable of the more of this we’ll see.
LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter) – Jada Pinkett Smith is returning to television in TNT’s drama pilot “Time Heals.” She will play a strong but caring director of nursing at Charlotte Mercy Hospital in North Carolina, a single mother who always puts others first. The actress will also serve as an executive producer alongside the project’s writer, . Read More
Jada’s Director/Writing Debut Film
THE HUMAN CONTRACT.
“Blog it all bytch. Be my voice.”
I was dying laughing and Sasha was fuming mad about her newest flavor. She was on the other end of the phone chronicling the tale as if it were happening all over again. With the same emotion, surprise and what I would gather to be regret mixed in with it all but still too early to tell.
I was sitting in my bed in front of a laptop staring at one sentence. The one sentence that should have been at least four paragraphs sitting in my agent’s inbox ready to read. Nada was coming out of my noodle no matter how hard I tried. I was blocked like a cheese lover and had deadlines sitting on my shoulder laughing at me like every word is a game.
“Awe man,” I said. That was really all I could say with the exception of a few outbursts of “What the phuk?” after young ears had left the room. We were discussing her lady let down. So the story goes…she met a guy, she liked him. He likes her; they’re all caught up in the new. It’s been a month or so, she stays over at the crib. They fool around, she pulls it out…and his male parts come in infant size. He did not experience Sasha heaven that night.
WHAT?! Right. Lol. The fact that he had a small peep wasn’t too much the issue. In fact, one of my other home girls decided to give up the peep standard when she started kickin with her friend. He didn’t have the best skill or tools but he was fine and treated her right! I’m sorry; I’m just not there on that yet. I need all or none.
So we’re discussing the matter because, ok, this is not the end all be all. We may be able to work something out but the guy just goes and messes everything up by acting like a pure dank and showing his hiney like he’s on his period in the days following. Like…he knew he had been found out and he was a cranky camper because of it. What? How in the heyaaaal are you going to be lacking in that area, know it and still not try to make up for it and on top of that be a bitching mad jerk about it? That doesn’t make sense and the two of us couldn’t figure it out.
Sasha wasn’t trying to hear any of my analytical commentary on the matter anyway. Her last take on it all was, “Shiiiit. His head game better be right.”
Ha. I’m thinking this clip is taken out of context?
Filed under: Flicks, WTF? | Tags: domestic violence, double standards, gameshow, slap
See this brings up an interesting point I’ve discussed with friends in the past. Some agree, some don’t – but honestly...if a woman has the Mandingo to be disrespectful enough to hit a man then hey – if she gets hit back it’s her fault because she opened herself up to it.
My take is that if you want to conduct yourself like a man and fight like one too then you have to be willing to accept accountability for whatever outcome you’ve caused by your own lack of self control. She lost control and just went off! LMAO I’ve get mad but I’m never dumb enough to slap any dude I’ve ever gotten angry at. The fact that I typically date big dudes (like 6’4 damn near 200 big) may be an incententive not to show my sassafras also but the point still stands.
I don’t think men should ever hit women but sometimes it’s a reflex thing when the woman initiates violence and just starts doing some off the wall, disrespectful crazy $hyt. If somebody slaps the lights out of your eyes and you are still conscious enough to understand that you just got bytch slapped, the ‘human’ thing to do is slap them back right?! If you’ve ever held a devilishly pissed off baby then you probably understand this principal better than others. I’ve been knocked in the mouth with big noggin heads and hair bows, caught in wooden block crossfires, scratched in the face…all unintentionnally of course but it takes a second for your brain to register and comply with a non-reactive approach because its a baby. A second that ‘by nature’ we tend not to want to let pass by.
Not reacting is much harder than reacting so I completely understand how things can escalate with the right individuals. But why didn’t anyone get on her case? She slapped him first but he reacted and got his a$$ kicked. I don’t think that’s fair but it IS Gangsta. The power of the P-U…
Domestic violence goes both ways and in either case is horribly wrong. Do you think there is a double standard when it comes to this? I personally think women have an advantage should we ‘choose’ to be the instigators or initiators. If I were grimy I could provoke my man to no end, bleach his clothes (I hear that’s a classic), poke his eye out with a stiletto and then send him to jail if I’m a good enough actress. Not fair at all but every situation is different I suppose.
‘How can she sllllap me!!!?’ (I’m mad at him for crying in the end lol.) If I’ve told you kids once I’ve told you twice: No hitting!