Soooo- I originally started this post on Dec 5th- clearly your girl has been marinating! Which is rare- I don't tend give shit a lot of thought. Thought is for 2 kinds of people- #1 people that lack leadership and the ability to assess a situation and make a decision and #2 people who give a fuck. I, am neither. But! I thought "its wrong for you disparage your online dating experience only 8 days in. You MUST give it a legit chance- it CANNOT be all bad." All bad? No. Totally fucked? Yes. Let me begin by summarizing my "profile"for back ground. For the record loyal readers I kept that shit Gangsta- less the word motherfuck. Cause you know I gotta keep it real.
So Here's me:
Divorced, Scorpio, 5'9, average build, income-noneya,doesn't want anymore kids, Catholic, very liberal Bio:outspoken, confident, not a homebody, kid super important
Here is what I requested:
Divorced or widowed, 5"11 or taller, has kids doesn't want anymore kids,income- I give a shit, Catholic or Spiritual not religious(basically no evangelicals or Jesus freaks yo) Bio: Please don't be stupid and be fun,
Straight forward right? Simple right? Wrong. So now that I have officially and mercifully resigned my 1 month membership- I have decided to offer some online dating hommies the benefit of my experience in true gangsta fashion
1st- Motherefucker! Read my Shit!! It says "very Liberal" Seriously yo- I mean next time I am for sure putting
"I have a mother fuckin alter to Nancy Pelosi and Obamas socialism ain't my socialism- but fuckin Stalin's is", Do not wink, interest, or favorite me if your fucking profile picture has a confederate flag in the background. If under your hobbies you have "conservative politics". If you own multiple cowboy hats and you love fuckin brooks and dunn. Hommie- even if I was just here to hook up(which I can manage just fine in the wild)- you are clearly unfuckable. This tirade can also be extended to I ain't having no more babies. Believe that. Gangsta baby can pour her own milk, make a peanut butter sandwich and text. My work here is done- she's ready to be released into the wild. Ain't no reset button.
#2- I appreciate your need to dream big Mr. 5'5- I really do. But fo real yo-I put that picture on my profile where I look tall as fuck because I am a big bitch. I don't wanna squish you muffin. Please, click your heels together 3 times, say there's no place like home, and take your shit back over the rainbow to munchkin land with your people.
#3- Be the fuck divorced. Here's an excerpt from the one coffee I eked out of this whole fucking experiment:
GD: So how long have you been divorced?
Some Guy(SG): Well the papers are filed- were just waiting that 60 days.
GD: Oh- uhmm ok. So when did you separate-like move out?
SG: In September
GD: This September?
SG: Yea.
GD: Oh! Ok- so how long have you been dating online?
SG: Since September
GD:(thank God for the botox b/c I know my face would have said "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" My mouth wanted to say that- I drank my coffee)
So! In conclusion- I have decided that I am super blessed to be still hot and my awesome man-guru that I accidentally had super good sex with before we became bff's reports that I am "above average" in bed. I'm gonna ride that ego boost on a vodka wave for awhile longer. And leave you with this- cause I'm still not a player(but you still a hater)- I just fuck a lot.
Thats.My.Word.
R
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Dear Shallow Whore From FB- Suck my Dick.
Real Talk From Austin Texas by way of Lubbock.
I was gone give it some time before I wrote this blog since my last one was so fuckin controversial. I genuinely gave my self the "Simmer down bitch" pep talk so that I could be- you know- classy about the shit(thanks AK). But you know the response from the moderator. Fuck That. I really want to open with this song, because as my Girl Betty pointed out- you you can basically interchange the word "gangsta' and "lady" in this song and it means the same. I would also replace the N word for something like debutante because i just don't care for it an find it offensive.
So listen to the words of this song you fuckin washed up has been and know that I'm not fuckin around and if I ever see you again I will punch you in the face. You keep my fucking kids name out of your mouth, or you will be sorrier than you have ever been. I have like eleventy lawyers in my family/friendship- so Ima tell you like I told Mr. Ex Gangsta Divorcee when he thought he could fuck with me- it will cost me zero legal dollars to fucking assault(and/or divorce) you. And! Lucky me- I'll bat my eyes at some sucker to get any other expenses that might be incurred taken care of- which is way easier for me than you- who by the way is like 6 years younger THAN MY MOTHER.
You wanna go there with me about the example I'm leading? Why don't I post the pictures of your 16 year old walking around ACL in a bikini and low slung skirt that showed her twat- smoking, drinking, and getting high in front of you while you joked about it. By no means am I prude or a tee-totaler, but I gaur-en-goddam-tee you you my daughter shows up like that while she lives under my roof- thinking she's grown, she can change her clothes and her attitude or she can pack her shit. Or maybe we can talk about how your left your "beautiful daughter" drunk as fuck (you and her both) so you could chase a married man with the express purpose of getting laid.
But! the coup de grace of all this fucked non-sense was this shit.
" And as far as being in an ugly space. thank god i am not. Just saying that men treat you as you ask them to treat you. period. i guess maybe that outfit just looks better on me. ha ha ha."
Combined with this:
"I completely agree. rock on you miserable souls. so glad i am not apart of your "reality". What a sad way to live life. trash breeds trash."
Are you fucking kidding me right now? If I contained a fucking monochrome of patience I would fucking pick your fucking ramblings apart motherfucking syllable by syllable. As it turns out(and not surprisingly) I can boil down your simple minded shit in maaaybe 5 bullet points- cause you know I learned something besides getting married in college:
- You look better? Nice try almost 50 yr old pussy and that's fun and new to make a fat joke. oh? what did cosmo tell you being a size 8 at 5'9 after 6 years of intensive hormonal infertility treatment and finally having the baby that destroyed what was left of her marriage was fat? way to think for yourself Ms. Middle age spread. Fuck you- I was smart enough to have 1- I'll spring back.
-Men treat me the way ask them to? Oh look! We agree- the difference between you and I is that I'm actually ok with it. I ain't playing no games or fucking fronting like you. And I'm not some fucking busted ass cougar that thinks I have anything in common w/ a fucking man that's 15 yrs younger than me(which for the record would be 20)
-trash breeds trash- this is a fun new phrase you and the rest of your racist ass Louisiana faux debs dusted off. All I shall say is that someone that is truly worth hearing doesn't need 40 people that didn't even fucking know her to validate her. She doesn't need to bring in an innocent 4 yr old into the fray because her arguments have merit. And reality is living her own life instead of the hearsay of another persons, because she can form her own motherfucking non-reactionary opinion. Maybe you should re-think the family tree of trash. I'll bet your mommy told you nice girls didn't do 'that' too. Fuck you hypocrite.
Oh look-that's only 3! Surprise- Surprise. Thats. My.word
R
I was gone give it some time before I wrote this blog since my last one was so fuckin controversial. I genuinely gave my self the "Simmer down bitch" pep talk so that I could be- you know- classy about the shit(thanks AK). But you know the response from the moderator. Fuck That. I really want to open with this song, because as my Girl Betty pointed out- you you can basically interchange the word "gangsta' and "lady" in this song and it means the same. I would also replace the N word for something like debutante because i just don't care for it an find it offensive.
So listen to the words of this song you fuckin washed up has been and know that I'm not fuckin around and if I ever see you again I will punch you in the face. You keep my fucking kids name out of your mouth, or you will be sorrier than you have ever been. I have like eleventy lawyers in my family/friendship- so Ima tell you like I told Mr. Ex Gangsta Divorcee when he thought he could fuck with me- it will cost me zero legal dollars to fucking assault(and/or divorce) you. And! Lucky me- I'll bat my eyes at some sucker to get any other expenses that might be incurred taken care of- which is way easier for me than you- who by the way is like 6 years younger THAN MY MOTHER.
You wanna go there with me about the example I'm leading? Why don't I post the pictures of your 16 year old walking around ACL in a bikini and low slung skirt that showed her twat- smoking, drinking, and getting high in front of you while you joked about it. By no means am I prude or a tee-totaler, but I gaur-en-goddam-tee you you my daughter shows up like that while she lives under my roof- thinking she's grown, she can change her clothes and her attitude or she can pack her shit. Or maybe we can talk about how your left your "beautiful daughter" drunk as fuck (you and her both) so you could chase a married man with the express purpose of getting laid.
But! the coup de grace of all this fucked non-sense was this shit.
" And as far as being in an ugly space. thank god i am not. Just saying that men treat you as you ask them to treat you. period. i guess maybe that outfit just looks better on me. ha ha ha."
Combined with this:
"I completely agree. rock on you miserable souls. so glad i am not apart of your "reality". What a sad way to live life. trash breeds trash."
Are you fucking kidding me right now? If I contained a fucking monochrome of patience I would fucking pick your fucking ramblings apart motherfucking syllable by syllable. As it turns out(and not surprisingly) I can boil down your simple minded shit in maaaybe 5 bullet points- cause you know I learned something besides getting married in college:
- You look better? Nice try almost 50 yr old pussy and that's fun and new to make a fat joke. oh? what did cosmo tell you being a size 8 at 5'9 after 6 years of intensive hormonal infertility treatment and finally having the baby that destroyed what was left of her marriage was fat? way to think for yourself Ms. Middle age spread. Fuck you- I was smart enough to have 1- I'll spring back.
-Men treat me the way ask them to? Oh look! We agree- the difference between you and I is that I'm actually ok with it. I ain't playing no games or fucking fronting like you. And I'm not some fucking busted ass cougar that thinks I have anything in common w/ a fucking man that's 15 yrs younger than me(which for the record would be 20)
-trash breeds trash- this is a fun new phrase you and the rest of your racist ass Louisiana faux debs dusted off. All I shall say is that someone that is truly worth hearing doesn't need 40 people that didn't even fucking know her to validate her. She doesn't need to bring in an innocent 4 yr old into the fray because her arguments have merit. And reality is living her own life instead of the hearsay of another persons, because she can form her own motherfucking non-reactionary opinion. Maybe you should re-think the family tree of trash. I'll bet your mommy told you nice girls didn't do 'that' too. Fuck you hypocrite.
Oh look-that's only 3! Surprise- Surprise. Thats. My.word
R
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Fans, Friends, and Artists Must Meet
I picked this blog title in honor of this poem by Erykah Badu, which is Boss as Hell.
I wanna dish a little about friends, because my friend interactions of late seem to be a source of great elation and also great pain for. Great confidence, and great confusion. I've been wondering a lot about the need for friendships in my life. The way I may choose to hang on to a friendship that's time has passed or neglect or abuse a friendship that deserves better or over cultivate a friendship only to serve my own ego. And I want to look at that through my art-words- for the fans I hope I'm making. Fans, friends, and artists must meet. Which one are you? Which one is me?
Let me preface this whole thing by establishing 2 things out the gate that I know for 100% certainty. #1) I am a pain in the ass to be friends with. I know everyone thinks this Gangsta Divorcee shit is some sort of front for me to curse. You would be wrong. This is how I behave and this is the sort of bullshit the peeps in my life put up with all the time. #2- I, like every woman,am crazy and i apply that crazy to everyone. #thankyouverymuch
Friends on FB
One of the newer additions to my FB friends, whom I was vague friends with in HS but haven't really spoken to or of since recently said this about me on the social media ego mecca that is the FB "Great to see how well things are going for you!" To which I say "Thank God we live in a society that still judges success by how hot you are relative to your peers"
You would never know the following based on the FB profile picture I am currently displaying (I'm in a beer girl costume made for a 5'3 woman(I'm 5'9) that I have adorned it with knee high 4 in heel boots, and the elusive wicked/innocent over the shoulder glance) that:
- I am up to those wicked eyes in credit card debt thanks to botox
-I haven't slept without alcohol or sleeping pills or both in about a year
-I cannot be without Zoloft or my therapist for more than a week or I lose my shit-totally
-I'm really not gonna fuck you, I'm somebodies mother for Christ sake
I say all this to to back up my thesis that facebook is for fun. It's like adult imagination time loosely based on reality. Look homies- don't be bringing your fucked up real life to my social media bubble. I'm here to have fun, post cute picture of my kid, and spread my political ideals through essentially non-confrontational means, unless I'm drunk and then its on. Take your sad, negative, non-funny shit somewhere else- like your blog.
Is it Time To let Go?
I think I struggle with this type of friendship the most and here's why. Do you have that friend that just drains you? I mean they bring some great stuff to your life but you guys are just headed in different directions. You love her- but fuck, sometimes you just want to look at her and say- "Shut the fuck up! I fuckin heard you the 1st 20 times!!" Well, if I were being honest- which I like to be, I am that friend for most of my peeps. So when this happens to me- I sometimes let it go longer than it should- I so appreciate anyone that will put up with my shit I simply cannot let go. But sometimes- its time. I had a therapist tell me once that relationships don't end for real with a BANG! They just fizzle out- I've seen it to many times not to know that to be true. Your job is to make space for the fizzle.
Ego Feeders
For me this is one type of friend- boys. Mr. Ex Gangsta Divorcee said some of the truest words I ever heard on many o' an occasion and one of those phrases was "Men and women don't become friends as adults because the possibility of sex is always there" Tru. Dat. I mean I have a whole slew o' male BFF's of late. But there has been sex with all of them- and I sorta hang on them to feed my ego. I'm like the girl they would love if I wasn't such a hot mess and I get to exert influence over their live because they think I'm like a guy and can essentially have sex w/o feeling anything. Soo awesome- win/win- I love to influence others- it makes me feel important and the quasi-platonic occasional booty call hommie is perfect fit for that. Plus, in my defense, I think a man really needs a female outlet that's not trying to wife them that they can talk all their crazy monkey-mind shit they have about women. Yes ladies, men have this too, not nearly to the level that we do- no straight man has that-trust. So feed my ego hommies- and when your not locked up, I fully expect to compensated for my services, so don't be fuckin call or text me after about 9pm on a Wednesday, Thursday or every other weekend if you ain't putting out. That's. My Word.
R
I wanna dish a little about friends, because my friend interactions of late seem to be a source of great elation and also great pain for. Great confidence, and great confusion. I've been wondering a lot about the need for friendships in my life. The way I may choose to hang on to a friendship that's time has passed or neglect or abuse a friendship that deserves better or over cultivate a friendship only to serve my own ego. And I want to look at that through my art-words- for the fans I hope I'm making. Fans, friends, and artists must meet. Which one are you? Which one is me?
Let me preface this whole thing by establishing 2 things out the gate that I know for 100% certainty. #1) I am a pain in the ass to be friends with. I know everyone thinks this Gangsta Divorcee shit is some sort of front for me to curse. You would be wrong. This is how I behave and this is the sort of bullshit the peeps in my life put up with all the time. #2- I, like every woman,am crazy and i apply that crazy to everyone. #thankyouverymuch
Friends on FB
One of the newer additions to my FB friends, whom I was vague friends with in HS but haven't really spoken to or of since recently said this about me on the social media ego mecca that is the FB "Great to see how well things are going for you!" To which I say "Thank God we live in a society that still judges success by how hot you are relative to your peers"
You would never know the following based on the FB profile picture I am currently displaying (I'm in a beer girl costume made for a 5'3 woman(I'm 5'9) that I have adorned it with knee high 4 in heel boots, and the elusive wicked/innocent over the shoulder glance) that:
- I am up to those wicked eyes in credit card debt thanks to botox
-I haven't slept without alcohol or sleeping pills or both in about a year
-I cannot be without Zoloft or my therapist for more than a week or I lose my shit-totally
-I'm really not gonna fuck you, I'm somebodies mother for Christ sake
I say all this to to back up my thesis that facebook is for fun. It's like adult imagination time loosely based on reality. Look homies- don't be bringing your fucked up real life to my social media bubble. I'm here to have fun, post cute picture of my kid, and spread my political ideals through essentially non-confrontational means, unless I'm drunk and then its on. Take your sad, negative, non-funny shit somewhere else- like your blog.
Is it Time To let Go?
I think I struggle with this type of friendship the most and here's why. Do you have that friend that just drains you? I mean they bring some great stuff to your life but you guys are just headed in different directions. You love her- but fuck, sometimes you just want to look at her and say- "Shut the fuck up! I fuckin heard you the 1st 20 times!!" Well, if I were being honest- which I like to be, I am that friend for most of my peeps. So when this happens to me- I sometimes let it go longer than it should- I so appreciate anyone that will put up with my shit I simply cannot let go. But sometimes- its time. I had a therapist tell me once that relationships don't end for real with a BANG! They just fizzle out- I've seen it to many times not to know that to be true. Your job is to make space for the fizzle.
Ego Feeders
For me this is one type of friend- boys. Mr. Ex Gangsta Divorcee said some of the truest words I ever heard on many o' an occasion and one of those phrases was "Men and women don't become friends as adults because the possibility of sex is always there" Tru. Dat. I mean I have a whole slew o' male BFF's of late. But there has been sex with all of them- and I sorta hang on them to feed my ego. I'm like the girl they would love if I wasn't such a hot mess and I get to exert influence over their live because they think I'm like a guy and can essentially have sex w/o feeling anything. Soo awesome- win/win- I love to influence others- it makes me feel important and the quasi-platonic occasional booty call hommie is perfect fit for that. Plus, in my defense, I think a man really needs a female outlet that's not trying to wife them that they can talk all their crazy monkey-mind shit they have about women. Yes ladies, men have this too, not nearly to the level that we do- no straight man has that-trust. So feed my ego hommies- and when your not locked up, I fully expect to compensated for my services, so don't be fuckin call or text me after about 9pm on a Wednesday, Thursday or every other weekend if you ain't putting out. That's. My Word.
R
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Venus in Retrograde
So I had this whole triumphant moment where I wasn't gonna talk about men anymore cause I thought- "who really wants to here that same old men suck and are the root of all my problems bullshit anymore" Welllllll as it turns out- I do.
oh and by the way- I was totally gonna drop this line at the end for dramatic effect- but you motherfuckers(aka men that read this blog) have an attention span that is for shit so check it:
If I emailed/fb you a link to this blog, and we've had sex- what ever orgasm you think you gave me- I faked. Don't act surprised homie, I was in a monogamous relationship for 11 yrs. Master piece theater up in this motherfucker.
OK! Now that that's done- lets dig in then shall we?
#1 Hey yo motherfuckers- decide what you want. This is my favorite p heap of non-sense a man will lay on you- it goes like this: 'Women don't know what they want" 'I just want a woman that is honest about how she feels and the direction she is moving her life in" "I don't think less of you if we have sex on the 1st date/ no I really want to see you again if you give it up to soon"(poetic license that shit was implied)
Look I get it, especially for my fellow divorcees, we all like to convince ourselves that the reason(s) our relationships and/or marriages aren't working out the way they're supposed to is because somewhere in the equation someone is playing games or being unauthentic. But here's where you're actually fuckin' up, you still think something is supposed to be. Did I miss the cosmic teaching that were entitled to shit? I didn't think so. This is why every time my daughter subjects me to some Disney- princess- fairytale bullshit, at the end when its all happily ever after, I pinch her really hard on the arm and say "the shit don't pop off like that". Aversion therapy #partofthesolution.
So here you go men- here's your truth(fellow GD's don't get pissed it needs to be said.) Women love to love- we want to serve and care for you because we are women. We were made to nurture. Of all the gifts that feminism gave us, it stole our ability to be feminine and appreciate that what is inherent, like the ablity to essentially rule the wrold due in large part to our vaginia(hello Helen of Troy), in us is a gift. So instead were trying to be all equal and shit which makes us #1 assholes #2 willing to accept a 46 year old motherfucker that still gets high everyday with the bullshit justification that "well we all have our vice". Or something like that.
#2 Ladies! Quit falling for that bullshit. Men continue to inundate you with their non-sense-non-committal- non-sustaining bullshit that they just want honesty. Hooker- You know you are smarter than that. We divorcees- we're the worst. We think that when we divorced and made peace we had this fabulous new lease on life. We were beholden to no one or no thing. We were gonna be honest and loneliness be dammed. But loneliness is fuckin lonely. Surely you remember this from how to catch a husband. Wanna get married- don't be you, be the you he's projecting on you. In the post-apocalyptic looking landscape of divorcee dating, if you want companionship for more than one night, you better suck it up and dust off that Mrs. text book you slept with under your pillow in college. Time to brush up your skill set girl.
In conclusion, how about Mars and Venus come to the following agreement:
Men admit you like a little fakery. It sets you up for your easy out when you're just not feeling it anymore(dude, I don't know she's a totally different person) and allows you to believe for a brief moment that she's never had sex with anyone else(don't lie motherfucker, I know how ya'll be. You cannot bare the idea someone else hit that).
And Ladies, you gotta admit the same. Own the fact that you were born to fake and you're pretty fuckin good at it.
The things that we want(men) and were good at(women) make us happy, so get like Nike homies and just fuckin do it.
My daughter plays dress up compulsively. If you think for one second I ever encouraged or lobbied for that, this must be your 1st time here. Just like my dream that she would be a Lesbian is rapidly disintegrating, so to is my dream that she will not manipulate the fuck out of every poor man w/ the misfortune to wander into her sights. I haven't done that in a long time, cause I was all moral and thought it was wrong, but whatev it ain't trickin if you got it. Three years of honesty has made me tired and aged me, I'm not having that shit. So line up homies, and I'll give you what you think you don't want. As a matter of fact, I am so confident in my game that I'll bet you all the good sex you're not gonna be having once you get married, that one of the next three men I decide to run this shit on will ask me to marry him, and my sutpid ass will probably say yes. That's My Word.
R
oh and by the way- I was totally gonna drop this line at the end for dramatic effect- but you motherfuckers(aka men that read this blog) have an attention span that is for shit so check it:
If I emailed/fb you a link to this blog, and we've had sex- what ever orgasm you think you gave me- I faked. Don't act surprised homie, I was in a monogamous relationship for 11 yrs. Master piece theater up in this motherfucker.
OK! Now that that's done- lets dig in then shall we?
#1 Hey yo motherfuckers- decide what you want. This is my favorite p heap of non-sense a man will lay on you- it goes like this: 'Women don't know what they want" 'I just want a woman that is honest about how she feels and the direction she is moving her life in" "I don't think less of you if we have sex on the 1st date/ no I really want to see you again if you give it up to soon"(poetic license that shit was implied)
Look I get it, especially for my fellow divorcees, we all like to convince ourselves that the reason(s) our relationships and/or marriages aren't working out the way they're supposed to is because somewhere in the equation someone is playing games or being unauthentic. But here's where you're actually fuckin' up, you still think something is supposed to be. Did I miss the cosmic teaching that were entitled to shit? I didn't think so. This is why every time my daughter subjects me to some Disney- princess- fairytale bullshit, at the end when its all happily ever after, I pinch her really hard on the arm and say "the shit don't pop off like that". Aversion therapy #partofthesolution.
So here you go men- here's your truth(fellow GD's don't get pissed it needs to be said.) Women love to love- we want to serve and care for you because we are women. We were made to nurture. Of all the gifts that feminism gave us, it stole our ability to be feminine and appreciate that what is inherent, like the ablity to essentially rule the wrold due in large part to our vaginia(hello Helen of Troy), in us is a gift. So instead were trying to be all equal and shit which makes us #1 assholes #2 willing to accept a 46 year old motherfucker that still gets high everyday with the bullshit justification that "well we all have our vice". Or something like that.
#2 Ladies! Quit falling for that bullshit. Men continue to inundate you with their non-sense-non-committal- non-sustaining bullshit that they just want honesty. Hooker- You know you are smarter than that. We divorcees- we're the worst. We think that when we divorced and made peace we had this fabulous new lease on life. We were beholden to no one or no thing. We were gonna be honest and loneliness be dammed. But loneliness is fuckin lonely. Surely you remember this from how to catch a husband. Wanna get married- don't be you, be the you he's projecting on you. In the post-apocalyptic looking landscape of divorcee dating, if you want companionship for more than one night, you better suck it up and dust off that Mrs. text book you slept with under your pillow in college. Time to brush up your skill set girl.
In conclusion, how about Mars and Venus come to the following agreement:
Men admit you like a little fakery. It sets you up for your easy out when you're just not feeling it anymore(dude, I don't know she's a totally different person) and allows you to believe for a brief moment that she's never had sex with anyone else(don't lie motherfucker, I know how ya'll be. You cannot bare the idea someone else hit that).
And Ladies, you gotta admit the same. Own the fact that you were born to fake and you're pretty fuckin good at it.
The things that we want(men) and were good at(women) make us happy, so get like Nike homies and just fuckin do it.
My daughter plays dress up compulsively. If you think for one second I ever encouraged or lobbied for that, this must be your 1st time here. Just like my dream that she would be a Lesbian is rapidly disintegrating, so to is my dream that she will not manipulate the fuck out of every poor man w/ the misfortune to wander into her sights. I haven't done that in a long time, cause I was all moral and thought it was wrong, but whatev it ain't trickin if you got it. Three years of honesty has made me tired and aged me, I'm not having that shit. So line up homies, and I'll give you what you think you don't want. As a matter of fact, I am so confident in my game that I'll bet you all the good sex you're not gonna be having once you get married, that one of the next three men I decide to run this shit on will ask me to marry him, and my sutpid ass will probably say yes. That's My Word.
R
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Will my daughter be a ho? Can you be too drunk? Can you be to crunk? Etc., Etc...
Part III-Some Other Shit I been marinating on...
Alas I have returned victorious from ACL. Ok, victorious is a bit of a stretch, but we'll get into that later.
As promised I been thinking about some other shit- when I started the series I was totally headed in a different direction in reference to the shit I was marinating upon. As a matter of fact, I have no fucking clue what I was originally thinking about other than spirituality and sabotage. And! If we're being totally honest, I'm not thinking about that shit anymore either. Perhaps this the reason why I was so unsuccessful at marriage. My inability to stay focused on some something that's botherin' me and trying to figure it out patiently is for shit. Instead, I just cut bait and move-on. Wow I'm glad I'm writing this down, my therapist just asked me last week why the fuck I was there and I had no real answer. (Ok, Ok, she didn't say fuck, but she implied it- I know an implied fuck when I hear that shit).
I'm gonna skip around my usual list format, cause I just set it up that way in the title because I thought It would flow better.
Can you be to drunk? There was a time when I would have said- "Nah!! you can be drunker than you should be, but you can never be to drunk!" That time has passed, no fo real, that time has passed. Here are some signs you may have in fact have been to drunk: the moment you wake you know you must send at least 15 apology texts(some to people you just met), you have a vague recollection of perhaps, just maybe, almost falling off a roof, YOU HAVE FUCKING NO RECOLLECTION OF A SHOW SOME PEOPLE ARE SAYING WAS ONE OF KANYE'S BEST EVER. Seriously, none. Too drunk, rookie move peeps and one that has me for the first time ever questioning my drunkenness. I'll get back to it- but I may sorta need a little break.....from vodka. Wine and beer are still on the table. A wise sage once said to me: "Wine, Wine is safe". And she was right, just as no good thing has ever happened after midnight, these are words to live by. So! Dear Vodka- welcome to the "no brown liquor rule" club. I will miss you, but this is for the best.
Will my Daughter be a Ho? or maybe Just an Asshole? There is a lot of things that have this thought swirling around my mind right now. Seriously I have observed the following in just the last 2 days- a nine, maaaybe 10 yr old be so fucking rude and disrespectful to HER MOTHER, that was giving her carte blanche to buy whatever she wanted, that I swear to you I almost intervened.
This is the conversation I heard:
"Mom, just walk away mom, just walk away. I'll let you know when I'm ready to check out" (Mom slinks away to, I don't read Harlequin romances at the check out aisle and wait?)
This would have been my response:
"The Hell you will you little shit! The last time I checked I had the fucking job around here or the good sense to marry someone with one. Remind me again what you've accomplished in your nine fucking years? Other than drain my resources and strain my already unhappy and sexually unfulfilling relationship. I'll tell you when were checking out- now. And what you're getting-nothing Take your ass to the car before I beat it all they way there."
Clearly this falls under the asshole umbrella. But fo real I see this non-sense all the time. Fuck that- I run this homey. Behave yourself and I'll let you live to be a grownup and run your own shit.
And what about a ho? Fo real yo- apparently now that my child is over 4 ft tall she needs a mini-skirt in leopard print with a matching bra and off the shoulder crop top t-shirt. Did I just fucking fall asleep and wake in Toddlers and Tiara's- The Flashdance Years?
Lemme circle back though and keep it real. I do not own a pair of flats. I do not really own heels shorter about 4 inches. I know exactly what I look like and exactly what I'm doing looking like that. Whatcha think I rap for to push a fuckin Rav4? ? I struggle with the concept of "do as I say not as I do" But here's the storyline that I've been trying to convince myself of, and it gets harder and harder every time I think about my beautiful daughter growing up and just settling for being hot( and she will be- she get from her mama). I think in the modern woman's struggle for equality (and its a struggle 30 yr old white male whining about reverse discrimination, go fuck yourself douche you been suckin' off the teet of entitlement for generations, move over, give someone else a turn, and go learn a fucking skill) we have left out the feminine in feminism. When I first heard this theory it I found it profound. I think it can mean different things depending on the kind of feminine you are, so I will just give to you as a thought to chew on. And so how am I gonna pass on to my daughter that its ok to be beautiful, age appropriately sexy, and the fuckin smartest person in the room? How can she learn that with the trial and error method or the relapses into the trial and error method - and by trial and error method I mean givin it(it being sex, position, or need to fit in) up to soon for the wrong reason or just to feel powerful? Lot's to marinate on. I rarely wish I had a boy, this is not one of those times.
Last, but most certainly not least: Can you be to Crunk? One of the originators of crunk and founding members of Outkast, Big Boi (whom I'm told I had the great pleasure of seeing twice on Friday...yea I got nothing, thanks Vodka) would probably say no. I would say he's is definitely not a 34 yr white woman from the burbs trying to act like shes hard as hell- old as hell? probably going to hell? Yes. Hard as Hell? No. That's my word.
R
Alas I have returned victorious from ACL. Ok, victorious is a bit of a stretch, but we'll get into that later.
As promised I been thinking about some other shit- when I started the series I was totally headed in a different direction in reference to the shit I was marinating upon. As a matter of fact, I have no fucking clue what I was originally thinking about other than spirituality and sabotage. And! If we're being totally honest, I'm not thinking about that shit anymore either. Perhaps this the reason why I was so unsuccessful at marriage. My inability to stay focused on some something that's botherin' me and trying to figure it out patiently is for shit. Instead, I just cut bait and move-on. Wow I'm glad I'm writing this down, my therapist just asked me last week why the fuck I was there and I had no real answer. (Ok, Ok, she didn't say fuck, but she implied it- I know an implied fuck when I hear that shit).
I'm gonna skip around my usual list format, cause I just set it up that way in the title because I thought It would flow better.
Can you be to drunk? There was a time when I would have said- "Nah!! you can be drunker than you should be, but you can never be to drunk!" That time has passed, no fo real, that time has passed. Here are some signs you may have in fact have been to drunk: the moment you wake you know you must send at least 15 apology texts(some to people you just met), you have a vague recollection of perhaps, just maybe, almost falling off a roof, YOU HAVE FUCKING NO RECOLLECTION OF A SHOW SOME PEOPLE ARE SAYING WAS ONE OF KANYE'S BEST EVER. Seriously, none. Too drunk, rookie move peeps and one that has me for the first time ever questioning my drunkenness. I'll get back to it- but I may sorta need a little break.....from vodka. Wine and beer are still on the table. A wise sage once said to me: "Wine, Wine is safe". And she was right, just as no good thing has ever happened after midnight, these are words to live by. So! Dear Vodka- welcome to the "no brown liquor rule" club. I will miss you, but this is for the best.
Will my Daughter be a Ho? or maybe Just an Asshole? There is a lot of things that have this thought swirling around my mind right now. Seriously I have observed the following in just the last 2 days- a nine, maaaybe 10 yr old be so fucking rude and disrespectful to HER MOTHER, that was giving her carte blanche to buy whatever she wanted, that I swear to you I almost intervened.
This is the conversation I heard:
"Mom, just walk away mom, just walk away. I'll let you know when I'm ready to check out" (Mom slinks away to, I don't read Harlequin romances at the check out aisle and wait?)
This would have been my response:
"The Hell you will you little shit! The last time I checked I had the fucking job around here or the good sense to marry someone with one. Remind me again what you've accomplished in your nine fucking years? Other than drain my resources and strain my already unhappy and sexually unfulfilling relationship. I'll tell you when were checking out- now. And what you're getting-nothing Take your ass to the car before I beat it all they way there."
Clearly this falls under the asshole umbrella. But fo real I see this non-sense all the time. Fuck that- I run this homey. Behave yourself and I'll let you live to be a grownup and run your own shit.
And what about a ho? Fo real yo- apparently now that my child is over 4 ft tall she needs a mini-skirt in leopard print with a matching bra and off the shoulder crop top t-shirt. Did I just fucking fall asleep and wake in Toddlers and Tiara's- The Flashdance Years?
Lemme circle back though and keep it real. I do not own a pair of flats. I do not really own heels shorter about 4 inches. I know exactly what I look like and exactly what I'm doing looking like that. Whatcha think I rap for to push a fuckin Rav4? ? I struggle with the concept of "do as I say not as I do" But here's the storyline that I've been trying to convince myself of, and it gets harder and harder every time I think about my beautiful daughter growing up and just settling for being hot( and she will be- she get from her mama). I think in the modern woman's struggle for equality (and its a struggle 30 yr old white male whining about reverse discrimination, go fuck yourself douche you been suckin' off the teet of entitlement for generations, move over, give someone else a turn, and go learn a fucking skill) we have left out the feminine in feminism. When I first heard this theory it I found it profound. I think it can mean different things depending on the kind of feminine you are, so I will just give to you as a thought to chew on. And so how am I gonna pass on to my daughter that its ok to be beautiful, age appropriately sexy, and the fuckin smartest person in the room? How can she learn that with the trial and error method or the relapses into the trial and error method - and by trial and error method I mean givin it(it being sex, position, or need to fit in) up to soon for the wrong reason or just to feel powerful? Lot's to marinate on. I rarely wish I had a boy, this is not one of those times.
Last, but most certainly not least: Can you be to Crunk? One of the originators of crunk and founding members of Outkast, Big Boi (whom I'm told I had the great pleasure of seeing twice on Friday...yea I got nothing, thanks Vodka) would probably say no. I would say he's is definitely not a 34 yr white woman from the burbs trying to act like shes hard as hell- old as hell? probably going to hell? Yes. Hard as Hell? No. That's my word.
R
Monday, September 12, 2011
Jesus was not a Budaist but Buda would have made a good Christian
Part II Spirituality
God. A pretty heavy topic for this blog I think. I mean when you use the word Jesus and fuck in the same sentence, you're kinda automatically an asshole. Just Sayin. But the one thing I promised myself about this blog when I embarked upon it is that I would keep it Gangsta, but also really talk about the shit I think about in the way that I think about it. And I've already used Jesus and fuck in a sentence (twice) so I'm pretty much an asshole already.
So! Let's get after it shall we? First of all let me say this, I consider myself a Christian. The main reason I do this is because I'm white and WASP-y looking and it's just easier. Also, if you've ever seen pictures of my father from 1977 he looks just like fucking Jesus(that's 3). The other reason is that fo real yo, in my world view all that shit is really the same. So why not pick the religion that will mitigate your airport pat downs?
So you might be wondering "Damm GD! If you've gotten this shit so streamlined why are devoting a whole post to it? We aren't trying to get all philosophical and shit. Get to that other shit your marinating on- I bet that's funny."
The truth as long as I can remember I have craved the presence of God in my life. Crazy right? But not really. I think that's most people, maybe not God per se that you grew up with being forced on you, have a God shaped hole in their heart and are just looking to find the shape of God that fits it.(Good shit right? A course In Miracles- read that shit its awesome)
Now here's the catch, remember pt.I? What's my fatal flaw? That's right- all or nothing. And this is where, every time with every version of God there is(and on the real, I think all religions are a manifestation of one God) I stumble. Fo real yo if I did not have mad control issues I would be the fuckin craziest skid row livin' addict you ever met. Every time, in every instance, I can go right up to the line and the be like "yea no- not today" (Don't hate, its kept me off the Meth that and that shit is ghetto, like huffing paint.)
Alas I digress, I bring up drug use and the word fuck in the context of Jesus(aaand 4) to make this point People that are addicted to God, any God, are fuckin nuts and they scare me. What's more, I could totally be that girl! (okay- so right here I totally wanted to put this clip of Tommy Chong saying "Before I was all messed up on drugs, now I'm all messed up on the Lord' Cause you know my Dad let me Listen to the Up in Smoke LP when I was 9- nostalgia.Couldn't find it. this shits good too)
And there in lies my quandary- crazy for The Lord =not Gangsta. Moreover, its hard to find church with peeps that like to say Fuck. That being said, I'm Catholic and my people do like liquor and swearing. As a matter of fact when I was a stay at home mom (don't laugh, I rocked that shit) I found my church lady group because the leader told us if we forgot to make flower arrangements for Mass we would go to Hell. Total dead pan, she wasn't fuckin around. #Gangsta.
And so peeps normally I would not beg for your commentary on my rantings- but I'm thinking on sabotage and spirituality I may need them. Thinking about this shit is making me so uncomfortable that I know somethings gotta give.
Damn you 1 million self help books Damn you to hell with the ladies that forgot to make flowers.
I didn't link ya'll a ton o' jamz this time cause I fuckin hate Jesus rock. (That's 5 ding-ding-ding we have a winner or a heathen or whatev) But Ima leave you with my Boy Kanye. In just 4 short days we shall be together at ACL where he will gaze out over the pasty, natural fiber clad crowd and lock eyes with me. In that moment, I know he'll choose me cause he can tell your girl is down to ride. That's my Word.
God. A pretty heavy topic for this blog I think. I mean when you use the word Jesus and fuck in the same sentence, you're kinda automatically an asshole. Just Sayin. But the one thing I promised myself about this blog when I embarked upon it is that I would keep it Gangsta, but also really talk about the shit I think about in the way that I think about it. And I've already used Jesus and fuck in a sentence (twice) so I'm pretty much an asshole already.
So! Let's get after it shall we? First of all let me say this, I consider myself a Christian. The main reason I do this is because I'm white and WASP-y looking and it's just easier. Also, if you've ever seen pictures of my father from 1977 he looks just like fucking Jesus(that's 3). The other reason is that fo real yo, in my world view all that shit is really the same. So why not pick the religion that will mitigate your airport pat downs?
So you might be wondering "Damm GD! If you've gotten this shit so streamlined why are devoting a whole post to it? We aren't trying to get all philosophical and shit. Get to that other shit your marinating on- I bet that's funny."
The truth as long as I can remember I have craved the presence of God in my life. Crazy right? But not really. I think that's most people, maybe not God per se that you grew up with being forced on you, have a God shaped hole in their heart and are just looking to find the shape of God that fits it.(Good shit right? A course In Miracles- read that shit its awesome)
Now here's the catch, remember pt.I? What's my fatal flaw? That's right- all or nothing. And this is where, every time with every version of God there is(and on the real, I think all religions are a manifestation of one God) I stumble. Fo real yo if I did not have mad control issues I would be the fuckin craziest skid row livin' addict you ever met. Every time, in every instance, I can go right up to the line and the be like "yea no- not today" (Don't hate, its kept me off the Meth that and that shit is ghetto, like huffing paint.)
Alas I digress, I bring up drug use and the word fuck in the context of Jesus(aaand 4) to make this point People that are addicted to God, any God, are fuckin nuts and they scare me. What's more, I could totally be that girl! (okay- so right here I totally wanted to put this clip of Tommy Chong saying "Before I was all messed up on drugs, now I'm all messed up on the Lord' Cause you know my Dad let me Listen to the Up in Smoke LP when I was 9- nostalgia.Couldn't find it. this shits good too)
And there in lies my quandary- crazy for The Lord =not Gangsta. Moreover, its hard to find church with peeps that like to say Fuck. That being said, I'm Catholic and my people do like liquor and swearing. As a matter of fact when I was a stay at home mom (don't laugh, I rocked that shit) I found my church lady group because the leader told us if we forgot to make flower arrangements for Mass we would go to Hell. Total dead pan, she wasn't fuckin around. #Gangsta.
And so peeps normally I would not beg for your commentary on my rantings- but I'm thinking on sabotage and spirituality I may need them. Thinking about this shit is making me so uncomfortable that I know somethings gotta give.
Damn you 1 million self help books Damn you to hell with the ladies that forgot to make flowers.
I didn't link ya'll a ton o' jamz this time cause I fuckin hate Jesus rock. (That's 5 ding-ding-ding we have a winner or a heathen or whatev) But Ima leave you with my Boy Kanye. In just 4 short days we shall be together at ACL where he will gaze out over the pasty, natural fiber clad crowd and lock eyes with me. In that moment, I know he'll choose me cause he can tell your girl is down to ride. That's my Word.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Spirituality, Sabotage, and Some other Shit I've been Marinating On. A reflection in III Parts.
Part I-Sabotage
First of all lets get the Pandora off of Duffy Radio. Melancholy shit. Been a super crazy week for me emotionally, which is scary because you'd think by now I’d be used to that shit. My life is always fuckin crazy emotionally and otherwise. You know how it goes though, a short week always seems long as fuck because it throws off you anal retentive internal clock(Wait, that's just me?) Anyway, here's what the high points look like- we shall delve deeper but its always nice to have an outline. Cause even though my grammar and spelling does at time appear to be for shit, I think it would reassure everyone that tries to choke down this shit out the gate that:
A. I have a point
i. I don't care if you agree
ii. I secretly long for your approval
B. This post may not pertain to you
i. Like my parenting Shit
ii. Are you fucking human with a heart? The shit pertains to you.
C. I'm not stupid just because I curse
i. Fuck You
Monday: Labor Day Celebration w/ the BFF, Mr. Ex Gangsta Divorcee, and the newest member of the GD club; Care-Bear. Strange back and forth text convo with someone I'd written off that left me feeling like I was in an early episode of the fucking great pumpkin.
Tuesday: Anything happen at work? Oh yea- I missed a conference call that I didn't really give a shit about. So yea that’s not new.
Wednesday: Ran Out of Meds for both blood sugar and serotonin (pay attention this will be important later)
Thursday: Still no Meds- left my kick ass "no matter how much I drink its always $3" bar tab for some networking bullshit. Bad Idea
Friday- STILL NO MEDS was hateful to my staff, tussled with the BFF after only 2 glasses of wine and stormed out of a chain restaurant. Picked up the meds on the way home.
So here we are at Saturday and I'm ready to review and make some sense outta all this bullshit. I have the luxury of this thanks to my housekeeper. Spend the money of you can find it ladies. It has changed my life, she does the laundry.
Let's talk sabotage 1st. (watch this shit, this song is boss as hell). I think if you spend more than 2 seconds in therapy the very first thing they want you to learn is that all the fucked things that you do or that seem to just befall you are, for the most part, this manifestation of the many ways in which you sabotage yourself. My therapist and I got heated up about this very type of behavior this week This is my sabotaging behavior: I have zero middle ground. All or Nothing.
My Therapist is suggesting that I may want to try to not be that way.
I am suggesting that she and I have possibly never met. Even though I've been bawling my eyes out for a almost a straight fuckin year on her fuckin couch.
Being this way is innate in me. Would I like to change it? Sure. Can I change it? Nope. Here's the thing that I always find the most ironic about people like me and the people that surround us. When you want some bullshit done, you want someone to call bullshit in a fucking boring ass meeting that has apparently sprung up because we've run out fucking paint to watch dry, or you just want bullshit and party. You got your girl on speed dial. But don't let that shit run afowl of some plans you made that didn’t involve that, cause that ain't gonna work. That's fuckin wack.
So what is the solution? I think you have to learn to work with what is innate in you and to not make apologies for it, but apologize sincerely when what you do hurts someone. Case in point. I huffed out of a fucking Johnny Carrinos in a snit over something that in the moment seemed huge. Subsequently, I realized that the deadly combination of high blood sugar and low serotonin had made me irrational. I called (ok I texted) the BFF, fought with her some more, and eventually offered a sincere apology once the meds had fully set in the next morning. I think that's the way to go. For now I'm gonna stick with it. That being said, please feel free to offer some feedback on alternate solutions. I’ll probably ignore them but I will graciously thank you for the effort, cause I'm a Lady and I have manners and shit.
Get your Holy book out cause were talking the God of your choosing(I promise my shit won't be as PC as that statement when we get after it fo real) in the next post. That's my word.
R
First of all lets get the Pandora off of Duffy Radio. Melancholy shit. Been a super crazy week for me emotionally, which is scary because you'd think by now I’d be used to that shit. My life is always fuckin crazy emotionally and otherwise. You know how it goes though, a short week always seems long as fuck because it throws off you anal retentive internal clock(Wait, that's just me?) Anyway, here's what the high points look like- we shall delve deeper but its always nice to have an outline. Cause even though my grammar and spelling does at time appear to be for shit, I think it would reassure everyone that tries to choke down this shit out the gate that:
A. I have a point
i. I don't care if you agree
ii. I secretly long for your approval
B. This post may not pertain to you
i. Like my parenting Shit
ii. Are you fucking human with a heart? The shit pertains to you.
C. I'm not stupid just because I curse
i. Fuck You
Monday: Labor Day Celebration w/ the BFF, Mr. Ex Gangsta Divorcee, and the newest member of the GD club; Care-Bear. Strange back and forth text convo with someone I'd written off that left me feeling like I was in an early episode of the fucking great pumpkin.
Tuesday: Anything happen at work? Oh yea- I missed a conference call that I didn't really give a shit about. So yea that’s not new.
Wednesday: Ran Out of Meds for both blood sugar and serotonin (pay attention this will be important later)
Thursday: Still no Meds- left my kick ass "no matter how much I drink its always $3" bar tab for some networking bullshit. Bad Idea
Friday- STILL NO MEDS was hateful to my staff, tussled with the BFF after only 2 glasses of wine and stormed out of a chain restaurant. Picked up the meds on the way home.
So here we are at Saturday and I'm ready to review and make some sense outta all this bullshit. I have the luxury of this thanks to my housekeeper. Spend the money of you can find it ladies. It has changed my life, she does the laundry.
Let's talk sabotage 1st. (watch this shit, this song is boss as hell). I think if you spend more than 2 seconds in therapy the very first thing they want you to learn is that all the fucked things that you do or that seem to just befall you are, for the most part, this manifestation of the many ways in which you sabotage yourself. My therapist and I got heated up about this very type of behavior this week This is my sabotaging behavior: I have zero middle ground. All or Nothing.
My Therapist is suggesting that I may want to try to not be that way.
I am suggesting that she and I have possibly never met. Even though I've been bawling my eyes out for a almost a straight fuckin year on her fuckin couch.
Being this way is innate in me. Would I like to change it? Sure. Can I change it? Nope. Here's the thing that I always find the most ironic about people like me and the people that surround us. When you want some bullshit done, you want someone to call bullshit in a fucking boring ass meeting that has apparently sprung up because we've run out fucking paint to watch dry, or you just want bullshit and party. You got your girl on speed dial. But don't let that shit run afowl of some plans you made that didn’t involve that, cause that ain't gonna work. That's fuckin wack.
So what is the solution? I think you have to learn to work with what is innate in you and to not make apologies for it, but apologize sincerely when what you do hurts someone. Case in point. I huffed out of a fucking Johnny Carrinos in a snit over something that in the moment seemed huge. Subsequently, I realized that the deadly combination of high blood sugar and low serotonin had made me irrational. I called (ok I texted) the BFF, fought with her some more, and eventually offered a sincere apology once the meds had fully set in the next morning. I think that's the way to go. For now I'm gonna stick with it. That being said, please feel free to offer some feedback on alternate solutions. I’ll probably ignore them but I will graciously thank you for the effort, cause I'm a Lady and I have manners and shit.
Get your Holy book out cause were talking the God of your choosing(I promise my shit won't be as PC as that statement when we get after it fo real) in the next post. That's my word.
R
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
More MOTY and Shit
I have a basic prayer when it comes to fucking up my child's life and it goes something like the :"Please God, just let her hash out some new problems with her therapist, not this going back generations bordering on being straight institutionalized bullshit I've been sifting through for the last 15 years" Then I make the sign of the cross, cause I'm Catholic and shit. Crazy right? Please reference this entry for a full explanation of that. But fo real- as a parent you cannot not fuck up your kid somehow. That is your right as a parent! And as a divorced parent- Man! Society has hheaped a shit ton of pre-programmed ways that you, by virtue of breathing the air of singlehoodom, have fucked up your kid. Well you know what the response from the moderator is: Fuck that.
You know what I really think about the divorced parents of our generation? I think we've been there and done that. We've already been through a shit ton of divorces. Mostly by our parents and their friends. I assure you we have seen it go wrong in way or the other. And so we gotta get there a different way. So here's what ya # 1 MOTY thinks about being a divorced mom and some new ways you may wanna take a look at it. In true fashion I'll shall bullet point the shit for you slow ass country motherfuckers.
1. Fo real yo, if you have kids that shit is until death till you part.
Look here's the deal(I get that from Dad ,the litigator, any time we're about to drop big knowledge we say that shit) you have a child with that man you claim not to love anymore and you all are still until death do you part. I really believe in this day and age that, no one is getting through life without dealing with a fuckin annoying ass adult. And 9 time out of 10 you married that motherfucker, cause were a nation of masochists. Unless your life is in danger, lets all try to get in the game shall we? Shit don't always work out between adults. That's your fuckiing problem. Not your pre-schoolers. Put your big girl panties on( Sip on the concrete Diana- this and no whiners has shaped me- Love you). Set your bullshit pride aside and be there for your kid. If he's fuckin worthless, your kid will figure that out on their own. You're smart,surely you can teach them to think for themselves. Besides, all your hommies are backing up your point of view. Why the fuck do you need someone who can hardly remember to wipe their ass when they shit to validate your choice? Your job is not to convince anyone else your ex is an asshole(esp his kids). Besides, if he's truly an asshole, in my experience you can just throw your kicks up your desk and watch that shit unfurl, cause it will.
2. Really? Single Mom? Really?
Unless Mr. Ex Gangsta Divorcee drops dead you will never hear me call myself a single mom. I am a single income household. I get ample child support to give my child 99% of the material things she would have should her father and I stayed together. When I think single mom- I think of a woman with little or no support from her ex or in some cases her family. I think widow single mom's have it the worst of all. It may seem all glamorous at 1st cause other women don't hate you and think you want to steal their man that they don't even want. But think about it, they have no one to bounce those big parenting decisions off of or a document that in absences of a mutual agreement tells them how its going down. That's fucked. So divorcee ladies, I urge you to think before you throw yourself a pity party that frankly no one wants to hear about. Cause I only have to be a live and in person parent about 15 days a month. Do I still do a lot of the heavy-lifting-life-path determing -work of child raising? Your Goddam right I do. But that's because I'm a mom and I know best, not because I'm single.
3. Don't Make excuses for compromising on the rules about when he meets your kid(s)
First and foremost ladies, we all do that shit. We got this list and these doctrines about protecting our kids from our single lives. And I think for the most part we stick to them. I honestly don't know one divorced mom that allows her kids to be privy to all her dalliances. But let a motherfucker turn up that gives her an orgasm for the 1st time in 15 yrs, and listens to her talk for hours about crazy shit, and does the fucking dishes and its pretty much a done deal. Ladies, it happens, we will all make this mistake. We will all spend 15 hours a day on tortured divorcee message boards trolling for the one answer to this question that validates our point of view. Wanna hear mine? "Well we were such good friends before we started dating, and he had already been around her in that capacity (like that word? I got it from a therapist) it just seemed strange to go backwards" Good shit right? Feel free to use it. I had every woman I know, married or divorced, nodding their head in agreement with that shit. The truth is I made a mistake. I allowed my daughter to become slightly attached to someone that I loved and when he didn't love me any more, I transferred my pain onto her a little. I tried to make myself believe that he had hurt her as much too. He didn't, but misery loves company. All I'm saying ladies is don't be so hard on yourselves, just do better next time.
Alright peeps! That's enough parenting for tonight- next week get ready cause its all Hip-Hop all the time. ACL in da house and the Budweiser stage is calling a sistas name. And not for their beer, that shit tastes like piss. But their line-up is sick as hell- Nas- Kanye- Big Boi- good shit. Follow me on twitter for sideline reporting @GangstaDivorcee That's My Word.
You know what I really think about the divorced parents of our generation? I think we've been there and done that. We've already been through a shit ton of divorces. Mostly by our parents and their friends. I assure you we have seen it go wrong in way or the other. And so we gotta get there a different way. So here's what ya # 1 MOTY thinks about being a divorced mom and some new ways you may wanna take a look at it. In true fashion I'll shall bullet point the shit for you slow ass country motherfuckers.
1. Fo real yo, if you have kids that shit is until death till you part.
Look here's the deal(I get that from Dad ,the litigator, any time we're about to drop big knowledge we say that shit) you have a child with that man you claim not to love anymore and you all are still until death do you part. I really believe in this day and age that, no one is getting through life without dealing with a fuckin annoying ass adult. And 9 time out of 10 you married that motherfucker, cause were a nation of masochists. Unless your life is in danger, lets all try to get in the game shall we? Shit don't always work out between adults. That's your fuckiing problem. Not your pre-schoolers. Put your big girl panties on( Sip on the concrete Diana- this and no whiners has shaped me- Love you). Set your bullshit pride aside and be there for your kid. If he's fuckin worthless, your kid will figure that out on their own. You're smart,surely you can teach them to think for themselves. Besides, all your hommies are backing up your point of view. Why the fuck do you need someone who can hardly remember to wipe their ass when they shit to validate your choice? Your job is not to convince anyone else your ex is an asshole(esp his kids). Besides, if he's truly an asshole, in my experience you can just throw your kicks up your desk and watch that shit unfurl, cause it will.
2. Really? Single Mom? Really?
Unless Mr. Ex Gangsta Divorcee drops dead you will never hear me call myself a single mom. I am a single income household. I get ample child support to give my child 99% of the material things she would have should her father and I stayed together. When I think single mom- I think of a woman with little or no support from her ex or in some cases her family. I think widow single mom's have it the worst of all. It may seem all glamorous at 1st cause other women don't hate you and think you want to steal their man that they don't even want. But think about it, they have no one to bounce those big parenting decisions off of or a document that in absences of a mutual agreement tells them how its going down. That's fucked. So divorcee ladies, I urge you to think before you throw yourself a pity party that frankly no one wants to hear about. Cause I only have to be a live and in person parent about 15 days a month. Do I still do a lot of the heavy-lifting-life-path determing -work of child raising? Your Goddam right I do. But that's because I'm a mom and I know best, not because I'm single.
3. Don't Make excuses for compromising on the rules about when he meets your kid(s)
First and foremost ladies, we all do that shit. We got this list and these doctrines about protecting our kids from our single lives. And I think for the most part we stick to them. I honestly don't know one divorced mom that allows her kids to be privy to all her dalliances. But let a motherfucker turn up that gives her an orgasm for the 1st time in 15 yrs, and listens to her talk for hours about crazy shit, and does the fucking dishes and its pretty much a done deal. Ladies, it happens, we will all make this mistake. We will all spend 15 hours a day on tortured divorcee message boards trolling for the one answer to this question that validates our point of view. Wanna hear mine? "Well we were such good friends before we started dating, and he had already been around her in that capacity (like that word? I got it from a therapist) it just seemed strange to go backwards" Good shit right? Feel free to use it. I had every woman I know, married or divorced, nodding their head in agreement with that shit. The truth is I made a mistake. I allowed my daughter to become slightly attached to someone that I loved and when he didn't love me any more, I transferred my pain onto her a little. I tried to make myself believe that he had hurt her as much too. He didn't, but misery loves company. All I'm saying ladies is don't be so hard on yourselves, just do better next time.
Alright peeps! That's enough parenting for tonight- next week get ready cause its all Hip-Hop all the time. ACL in da house and the Budweiser stage is calling a sistas name. And not for their beer, that shit tastes like piss. But their line-up is sick as hell- Nas- Kanye- Big Boi- good shit. Follow me on twitter for sideline reporting @GangstaDivorcee That's My Word.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Mother of the Year up in this Motherfucker
So I'm thinking I'm done talking Mars and Venus for awhile.
Let's move on to my parenting series shall we? Some of you may scoff. Parenting Gangsta? Please, how can changing diapers and miserable playdates where you swap crockpot recipes and organic snack ideas be Gangsta? You motherfuckers ain't got no kids. Parenting is some hardcore, Tipper Gore gonna put a warning label on it, shit (Big up Tipper- welcome to the GD club- respect). And! Before I proceed let me state that I shall only be discussing my parenting style and that I, frankly, have no interest in yours. Cause we all know if we been around the block even one time, trying to work off the flab that little oxygen thief burdened us with at the exact moment our metabolism slowed down , pushing a $400 3000lb stroller, there is nothing other people love more than to tell you how to raise your kid. So let me just pile on. #youaintready.
Out the gate, let's be clear ya girl is coming old school. I spent a lot of my formative years with my grandparents because my parents were two of the biggest dumb asses that not only thought 16 would be a good time to have a baby they also that marriage might be fun too. In addition to all of that my mother and father are two of the hardest working, intelligent and funny people I know. They have mad college degrees, but to get those that needed a lot of help from theirr parents. So you better believe that the second I think I might be inconvenienced by the spawn, I'm calling their asses up and reminding them of that shit. Don't get it twisted, I ain't bitter (much love to 25 therapists I've cycled through since my early 20s for that). Nothing makes you a gangsta like cutting your own switch from a peach tree so that your Granny can whoop your ass. Or spend an entire weekend shelling black eyed peas and snapping green beans to "put food up for the winter" like your all up the great depression and there's not a fucking grocery store like 5 blocks away. My Gran was also big on that children should be seen and not heard, (how do ya'll think that last one really turned out? Yea, it ain't goin' so well w/ mini-me either).
I relate all of this to back the following assertion: kids these days are kinda assholes, because parents these days are kind of assholes.
My grandparents had like zero interest in being my friend- they had some shit I needed to learn and they were teaching it regardless of my emotional needs. In their lifetime your children will have a shit ton of friends- half of which will annoy the fuck out of you or you will disapprove of. But o fuckin well, they're not your friends. I have this theory (and remind me to get back w/ ya'll about this in 20 yrs) that if you do the hard thing now and are a parent instead of a friend, when they are adults you will have the amazing friendship with them that you want. Now! Lemme just say this for those of you not Gangsta enough to have gotten divorced yet; in the interest of keeping it real, I only gotta put this shit into practice 15 days a month, so that makes it easier. (I see that twinkle in your eye girl- this divorce shit is lookin better and better) You'd think Mr. Gangsta Divorcee could manage that shit too.
If you don't want you kid to talk like an idiot, don't to them like an idiot. I must say I owe this one to my parents. When I was 6 years old my crazy ass father decided that now was a perfect time to introduce me to transcendentalism by suggesting that we could all just be a dream in someones mind. Good job motherfucker, that's the perfect thing to tell a 6 yr old. However, as I reflect on it now he was really giving me gift that was, in fact, twofold. #1 It gave me hope that someone would wake from the nightmare that was one of his many wives and #2 when I'm not being all all Gangsta, I'm articulate as a motherfucker. I can carry on a conversation that is knowledgeable and confident and contains multiple words with more than 3 syllables. I cannot however spell.
These are just a few of the parenting tips, tricks and suggestions I will be gracing ya'll with in the coming weeks. Because at the end the day Whitney Houston said it best. Ha! Ha! No not that- Gotcha! This! That's My Word. R
Let's move on to my parenting series shall we? Some of you may scoff. Parenting Gangsta? Please, how can changing diapers and miserable playdates where you swap crockpot recipes and organic snack ideas be Gangsta? You motherfuckers ain't got no kids. Parenting is some hardcore, Tipper Gore gonna put a warning label on it, shit (Big up Tipper- welcome to the GD club- respect). And! Before I proceed let me state that I shall only be discussing my parenting style and that I, frankly, have no interest in yours. Cause we all know if we been around the block even one time, trying to work off the flab that little oxygen thief burdened us with at the exact moment our metabolism slowed down , pushing a $400 3000lb stroller, there is nothing other people love more than to tell you how to raise your kid. So let me just pile on. #youaintready.
Out the gate, let's be clear ya girl is coming old school. I spent a lot of my formative years with my grandparents because my parents were two of the biggest dumb asses that not only thought 16 would be a good time to have a baby they also that marriage might be fun too. In addition to all of that my mother and father are two of the hardest working, intelligent and funny people I know. They have mad college degrees, but to get those that needed a lot of help from theirr parents. So you better believe that the second I think I might be inconvenienced by the spawn, I'm calling their asses up and reminding them of that shit. Don't get it twisted, I ain't bitter (much love to 25 therapists I've cycled through since my early 20s for that). Nothing makes you a gangsta like cutting your own switch from a peach tree so that your Granny can whoop your ass. Or spend an entire weekend shelling black eyed peas and snapping green beans to "put food up for the winter" like your all up the great depression and there's not a fucking grocery store like 5 blocks away. My Gran was also big on that children should be seen and not heard, (how do ya'll think that last one really turned out? Yea, it ain't goin' so well w/ mini-me either).
I relate all of this to back the following assertion: kids these days are kinda assholes, because parents these days are kind of assholes.
My grandparents had like zero interest in being my friend- they had some shit I needed to learn and they were teaching it regardless of my emotional needs. In their lifetime your children will have a shit ton of friends- half of which will annoy the fuck out of you or you will disapprove of. But o fuckin well, they're not your friends. I have this theory (and remind me to get back w/ ya'll about this in 20 yrs) that if you do the hard thing now and are a parent instead of a friend, when they are adults you will have the amazing friendship with them that you want. Now! Lemme just say this for those of you not Gangsta enough to have gotten divorced yet; in the interest of keeping it real, I only gotta put this shit into practice 15 days a month, so that makes it easier. (I see that twinkle in your eye girl- this divorce shit is lookin better and better) You'd think Mr. Gangsta Divorcee could manage that shit too.
If you don't want you kid to talk like an idiot, don't to them like an idiot. I must say I owe this one to my parents. When I was 6 years old my crazy ass father decided that now was a perfect time to introduce me to transcendentalism by suggesting that we could all just be a dream in someones mind. Good job motherfucker, that's the perfect thing to tell a 6 yr old. However, as I reflect on it now he was really giving me gift that was, in fact, twofold. #1 It gave me hope that someone would wake from the nightmare that was one of his many wives and #2 when I'm not being all all Gangsta, I'm articulate as a motherfucker. I can carry on a conversation that is knowledgeable and confident and contains multiple words with more than 3 syllables. I cannot however spell.
These are just a few of the parenting tips, tricks and suggestions I will be gracing ya'll with in the coming weeks. Because at the end the day Whitney Houston said it best. Ha! Ha! No not that- Gotcha! This! That's My Word. R
Monday, August 29, 2011
Why Women Gotta Be so Crazy and Shit?
This Song has nothing to do with this post- I just fuckin love it right now. That's All. Watch this shit.
Ok- now that I gotten that outta the way, let's get after it. Sometimes I think the ideas from my posts come from one place, (ok, I really only think they come from one place, actual conversations I have with my peeps, usually via text) when in reality they come from another. More about where this post really came from at the end, but in the interim check out the transcripts from actual texts I exchanged today. Names have been changed to protect those plotting the destruction of others, and I took a little poetic license cause this is my fucking blog and I can do what I want.
Convo #1
Txtr 1:I'm obsessing about him what should I do
Txtr 2: Chill- you just need to chill the fuck out
Txtr 1: and that includes like leaving a note and shit?
Txtr 2: Yes!
Txtr 1: Ok,ok- that's what I thought I was just making sure. Why the fuck am I so crazy?
Txtr 2: Because you're a girl. I include myself in that. I really like him too. Fucking hormones they make us crazy.
Txtr 1: Wait you like him too- this might be a problem.
Txtr 2: no asshole....my him not you're him
Convo #2:
Txtr 1: 2 things- #1- Can I borrow your Wizard of Oz DVD-#2 I had dinner and also sex w/ XYZ Saturday night
Txtr 2: Wizard of Oz -Sure
Txtr 2: XYZ- who the fuck is that?
Txtr 1: Oh I haven't mentioned him? Oh well yea...he's cute.
Txtr 2: Nice. The most exciting thing that happened to me this weekend was that I dropped a paint can on my toe and cursed for like 10 mins straight. Then I imagined, in a pms haze, what it would be like to beat the shit out of my husband for an entire hour.
Txtr #1: Yea that shit happens. Oh! that reminds me lets have a playdate this week.
Good Shit- which of course leads me to the pondering of why women are so fuckin crazy! Why do we have these minds that cling and dwell and attempt to parse every single thing to the nth degree? Why do we sometime feel that it might really be ok, even justifiable, to beat the shit of or kill someone. Why is that?
We sit around and watch Oprah. So in awe of her Buda like peacefulness are we as a race we completely gloss over the fact that she's a gazillionaire. I'd be a zen as fuck if I had money like that. Or like this.
We read all these books about being in the present moment and accepting what is. We go to that amazing yoga-Pilate's-transcendental meditation combo class like our life depends on it every other day because it promises to release us from the burden of the monkey mind.
And we come home, make the perfect vegan saute that everyone we lay before adores and the second we pour our post dinner glass a wine and settle in to catch up on email we get some 3 sentence email from our boss that by the time we finish dissecting it like were in fucking third grade English looking for a predicate that has us convinced were headed to the soup kitchen and the unemployment line and we are fucking beating the shit out of ourselves for spending money on botox and meditation because in 3 short weeks we will not be able to feed our children and we decide to crawl inside a bottle of Merlot and start reading the fucking Twilight Series again because life would be so simple if a hot Mormon vampire would just feast on myl bood.
See how wrote that entire thing with no punctuation? If you're a woman that's exactly how your mind works- 90 fucking miles an hour with no punctuation.
So this evening as I was plotting in what way I would answer this timeless question, (I know that's why anyone would ever read this shit to figure out why shit is the way it is that's why I'm here), rewind to this morning, I'm fucking stumbling around my kitchen completely disoriented because I don't have a hangover like I usually do. I'm trying to make some coffee when I knock my Goddamn (see GD- soo gangsta) Zoloft behind the stove. Seriously yo- right now is not a time for me to be off the meds, but I figure I'll just call in the refill and pick it up cause it was almost gone anyway. I get home. Make the perfect vegan meal. (Well it was vegetarian, but whose counting right?) Call in the refill and am informed by the pharmacy that my insurance won't pay for the shit until tomorrow. I start to panic. I need that shit. It is an amazing mood elevator and appetite suppressant all at once. I promised my self 6 months of of fucking serotonin treatment while I got my shit together. I am not fucking missing 2 days of that shit. I have a fucking 8 hour meeting with my boss tomorrow. I go to the stove and I start trying to pull it out. It is not fucking budging. I discover that I will need to tip to over. I am trying to be careful because it's a gas stove and I will asphyxiate the whole house if I pull the line out of the wall. And I'm tipping, and tipping, and tipping. And Boom! I tip that motherfucker right over! The oven racks fall out. I break one of my burners. But I get the fucking Antis. Triumphantly I clutch the Zoloft in my hand and fantasize about how calm I will be taking today's dose before bed and tomorrows before my meeting. I will have such a sublime serotonin buzz that my boss' boss' boss (foreva,eva, eva?) could fuck with me tomorrow and I wouldn't give a shit. Then... Crash! Boom! Back to reality as my 4 year old shrieks "Oh no Mama! How can this happen? What will we do? How will eat" Really? This from the child that gets 90% of her meals from a restaurant? Melodramatic little shit. And then it hits me. Women are fucking crazy because our Mother's are fucking crazy and they made us that way by doing crazy shit like almost ripping a gas line out of the wall so that we can have a fucking coping mechanism. That's My Word.
R
Ok- now that I gotten that outta the way, let's get after it. Sometimes I think the ideas from my posts come from one place, (ok, I really only think they come from one place, actual conversations I have with my peeps, usually via text) when in reality they come from another. More about where this post really came from at the end, but in the interim check out the transcripts from actual texts I exchanged today. Names have been changed to protect those plotting the destruction of others, and I took a little poetic license cause this is my fucking blog and I can do what I want.
Convo #1
Txtr 1:I'm obsessing about him what should I do
Txtr 2: Chill- you just need to chill the fuck out
Txtr 1: and that includes like leaving a note and shit?
Txtr 2: Yes!
Txtr 1: Ok,ok- that's what I thought I was just making sure. Why the fuck am I so crazy?
Txtr 2: Because you're a girl. I include myself in that. I really like him too. Fucking hormones they make us crazy.
Txtr 1: Wait you like him too- this might be a problem.
Txtr 2: no asshole....my him not you're him
Convo #2:
Txtr 1: 2 things- #1- Can I borrow your Wizard of Oz DVD-#2 I had dinner and also sex w/ XYZ Saturday night
Txtr 2: Wizard of Oz -Sure
Txtr 2: XYZ- who the fuck is that?
Txtr 1: Oh I haven't mentioned him? Oh well yea...he's cute.
Txtr 2: Nice. The most exciting thing that happened to me this weekend was that I dropped a paint can on my toe and cursed for like 10 mins straight. Then I imagined, in a pms haze, what it would be like to beat the shit out of my husband for an entire hour.
Txtr #1: Yea that shit happens. Oh! that reminds me lets have a playdate this week.
Good Shit- which of course leads me to the pondering of why women are so fuckin crazy! Why do we have these minds that cling and dwell and attempt to parse every single thing to the nth degree? Why do we sometime feel that it might really be ok, even justifiable, to beat the shit of or kill someone. Why is that?
We sit around and watch Oprah. So in awe of her Buda like peacefulness are we as a race we completely gloss over the fact that she's a gazillionaire. I'd be a zen as fuck if I had money like that. Or like this.
We read all these books about being in the present moment and accepting what is. We go to that amazing yoga-Pilate's-transcendental meditation combo class like our life depends on it every other day because it promises to release us from the burden of the monkey mind.
And we come home, make the perfect vegan saute that everyone we lay before adores and the second we pour our post dinner glass a wine and settle in to catch up on email we get some 3 sentence email from our boss that by the time we finish dissecting it like were in fucking third grade English looking for a predicate that has us convinced were headed to the soup kitchen and the unemployment line and we are fucking beating the shit out of ourselves for spending money on botox and meditation because in 3 short weeks we will not be able to feed our children and we decide to crawl inside a bottle of Merlot and start reading the fucking Twilight Series again because life would be so simple if a hot Mormon vampire would just feast on myl bood.
See how wrote that entire thing with no punctuation? If you're a woman that's exactly how your mind works- 90 fucking miles an hour with no punctuation.
So this evening as I was plotting in what way I would answer this timeless question, (I know that's why anyone would ever read this shit to figure out why shit is the way it is that's why I'm here), rewind to this morning, I'm fucking stumbling around my kitchen completely disoriented because I don't have a hangover like I usually do. I'm trying to make some coffee when I knock my Goddamn (see GD- soo gangsta) Zoloft behind the stove. Seriously yo- right now is not a time for me to be off the meds, but I figure I'll just call in the refill and pick it up cause it was almost gone anyway. I get home. Make the perfect vegan meal. (Well it was vegetarian, but whose counting right?) Call in the refill and am informed by the pharmacy that my insurance won't pay for the shit until tomorrow. I start to panic. I need that shit. It is an amazing mood elevator and appetite suppressant all at once. I promised my self 6 months of of fucking serotonin treatment while I got my shit together. I am not fucking missing 2 days of that shit. I have a fucking 8 hour meeting with my boss tomorrow. I go to the stove and I start trying to pull it out. It is not fucking budging. I discover that I will need to tip to over. I am trying to be careful because it's a gas stove and I will asphyxiate the whole house if I pull the line out of the wall. And I'm tipping, and tipping, and tipping. And Boom! I tip that motherfucker right over! The oven racks fall out. I break one of my burners. But I get the fucking Antis. Triumphantly I clutch the Zoloft in my hand and fantasize about how calm I will be taking today's dose before bed and tomorrows before my meeting. I will have such a sublime serotonin buzz that my boss' boss' boss (foreva,eva, eva?) could fuck with me tomorrow and I wouldn't give a shit. Then... Crash! Boom! Back to reality as my 4 year old shrieks "Oh no Mama! How can this happen? What will we do? How will eat" Really? This from the child that gets 90% of her meals from a restaurant? Melodramatic little shit. And then it hits me. Women are fucking crazy because our Mother's are fucking crazy and they made us that way by doing crazy shit like almost ripping a gas line out of the wall so that we can have a fucking coping mechanism. That's My Word.
R
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Men are from the West Coast, Women are from the East Coast & the 3rd Coast is some Shit we made up in Texas
Well here it s Friday night again and BooBoo is off on Daddy Weekend. So you know how your girls rollin'-that's right I'm getting drunk alone and eating a dinner consisting solely of carbs standing up in the kitchen. Hell Yea. Hope Ya'll are diggin the new page design thanks to my fav mom hommies Fiesty Charlie Writes and A Blonde Betty. Check out their shit- its way different from mine, but like me, totally awesome.
Lets get down to tha biz-nass- Men. Since I can't be lucky enough to be a lesbian, you know I gotta deal with those motherfuckers. Those of you that really know me know I'm not nearly as gangsta about men as I would appear to be upon 1st glance. I once had a very trusted (trusted only because I've stumbled through this world a long time looking for souls as fucked up as me, and he's top 5 fo sho) male source tell me I "have unrealistic expectations of others". My initial reaction was If you can't take the heat get yo ass up out the kitchen motherfucker. But you know, I'm thoughtful and shit- I pontificated and decided he was right. (I know right, when are those fools ever right). Initial reaction might be- but GD(oh shit! I just realized abbreviating my blog name could also be God Damn- excellent) we live in an age where everyone only has the lowest of expectations of people. But look at what he really said- unrealistic, not to high. So here's a hard motherfuckin truth ladies, that bullshit self help book about Mars and Venus was straight up about how it really goes down. Men will never understand the following things about women:
When shit goes horribly terribly wrong, and by wrong I mean it didn't pop off the way we meticulously planned it, we cry. We like to cry to release anger, frustration,sadness, joy, irritation with other bitches that are trippin. We cry That's what we we do. So shut the fuck up and pass the tissue.
We are convening the council to figure out all our problems. Talking to our girl friends is right up there with crying(and vodka) when it comes to working shit out. And yes were talking about you, probably in hateful way, that doesn't mean we hate you, except when we do. Complaining about you, our job, our other girlfriends that are acting crazy prevents us from taking action that would be illegal and probably land us in jail.
The thought that losing 10lbs will completely change our life has been passed down by mothers to daughters for generations. It is part of our genetic fabric. Please, stop getting irritated when we talk about it.
Ladies, don't get all smug and shit. As long as you draw breath on this earth you will never understand the following things about men.
A man needs to fix shit like a fat kid needs cake. A man must fix all things. Your toilet, your car, your fucked up relationship with your parents. If he can't, in his mind, he ceases to be a man. Woman do not suffer from this, if we want something fixed, we call a man. So STFU ladies when you just want him to listen and agree and he won't stop trying to fix it so you cry. That's what men do. They fix shit, because we ask them to.
When you ask him what he's thinking about, and he says 'nothing". He means that shit. That motherfucker ain't thinking about nothin'. Except maybe sex and SportsCenter. Quit trying to make your man into Socrates. Socrates was gay. Do you feel a strong urge for a Socrates in your life? That is why God made your hairdresser. Leave that fool alone.
Finally Ladies, if you are an enthusiastic lover he gives a fuck if you ever lose that 10lbs. ( I really wanted to link Chris Rock here- but I can't find the bit on youtube where he says "if you like fuckin' marriage ain't for you" cause I'm to drunk. but here's some good shit that I love). But fo real yo- if there is one thing being a Divorcee has taught me is that men love an enthusiastic lover. And don't be a fake enthusiastic lover- if you're fakin it get divorced yo cause it doesn't get any better. Men love that shit- so have some tequila, hit up the strip bar and get after that shit in your size 14 thong.
I know what you're thinking- you're thinking "Daaam Gangsta Divorcee" You are so wise- why did you ever get divorced?" Listen up peeps- if you are truly meant to be, marriage counseling will help you. If it doesn't help your actual marriage it will help you to be straight gangsta/ more able to cope as a divorcee. I hope regardless of your status you hear the truth in my words. And! Even though the 3rd coast is some shit we made up in Texas- RIP Pimp C- you know you made this shit a hit! That's my Word.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
The Rulz- Top 5 Dating Must Haves for the Gangsta Divorcee
Post # 1- The Rulz
If Hustle and Flow taught us nothing, it proved that it's hard out there for a pimp. It is particularly hard in the suburbs, although that makes like zero sense to me given the high level of sexual frustration out here. Here's another hard motherfuckin' truth, its even harder for the Gangsta Divorcee. At 1st you think its gonna be a cake walk with the divorcee dating pool, but it doesn't take long to realize that no matter which team you come down on: Team A: "I look way hotter than all these mom jean peeps at the PTA, I'm gonna knock this shit out in like 20 minutes" or Team B: " Ms.Independent why would I want another one? Surely one's enough" When you finally dip your pedicured toe(cause you have some time to get your toes done that you are relived of duty Wednesdays, Thursdays and every other Friday) back in to the fucking river Styx that is dating, you need some rulz. And those bullshit rulz for girls that still haven't managed to lock up their 1st husband ain't gonna work sister. Let me help you out.
Rulz #1: The Shit Don't Pop off Like That: make note of the observation in the introduction, those old rulz were made before you(or your mom June Cleaver) realized that, contrary to Disney's relentless marketing campaign; the shit don't pop off that way. He's no night in white armor, fuck he's probably never been to England. Stop laying awake at nite picturing your 2nd wedding barefoot on beach with just your kids, your parents, your best friend, and some bullshit white dress you bought at Banana Republic.
Rulz #2-Do The Math: Q:Does he have more children than he has hands? A: Yes he has 3. Follow Up from The Moderator: Fuck that. If he has more children than he has hands, the likely hood that one of those little shits will get away from him is extremely high. And because he's a man he'll look at you all pitiful and shit and beg for help reigning in a passel of brats that you have no genetic connection to, and that will just annoy you.
Rulz # 3 Be Sure his Ex-Crazy Bitch is on Par with your Crazy-Bitchyness: Establish by interaction #2 what his relationship with his baby-mama is. Is she bat shit crazy? That's fine, but you too should be bat shit crazy. At this stage of the game , when there's children and child support involved everyone needs to be on the same page. You will never understand a woman whose still hurling calling him up 15 time a day to discuss that time he didn't clean up three fucking drops of spit up during a particularly colic-e period 15 years ago. If you and your ex are all "Que cera it didn't work out let's be a grown up and do whats best for our child." and they're still on the turnpike to crazy with no exit that shit will never work out between ya'll. Don't believe me? Alright Madame Curie, experiment with that shit and let me know how it goes.
Rulz #4 You Don't Fucking Have to Get back out There: Under no circumstances allow your fellow divorcee BFF's and/or your delusional never-been-married single friends convince you that you need to just back out there if some punk-ass dude that you would NEVER date asks you out. Practice dating is for women without children who can't quit maxing out their credit cards buying shoes so they can afford their own nice fucking dinner.
Rulz #5 Get it Right, Get it Tight: Look at you lucky girl! You lost 30 lbs from stress and can wear your pre-1st wedding skinny jeans! Congratulations! Everyone hates you! And even though you finally know what your mama meant when she said if you can't be happy you can at least be thin, you did the crime girl, do the time. Under no circumstances ever is a divorce just 1 persons fault. That shit can straight up be 99% to 1%, but check your self before you ride off into the sunset and start doing all that shit I told you not to do in rulz #1. If you don't know how you contributed to the demise of marriage #1, you better figure it out. Skip that step, and its straight ground hog day up in this motherfucker. Your kids have already been through your daddy issues once girl, let's not do that again mmkay?.
I hope theses Rulz will help you on your journey- I got like a million more because I'm a control freak, but I think this will do for now. That's My Word.
R
If Hustle and Flow taught us nothing, it proved that it's hard out there for a pimp. It is particularly hard in the suburbs, although that makes like zero sense to me given the high level of sexual frustration out here. Here's another hard motherfuckin' truth, its even harder for the Gangsta Divorcee. At 1st you think its gonna be a cake walk with the divorcee dating pool, but it doesn't take long to realize that no matter which team you come down on: Team A: "I look way hotter than all these mom jean peeps at the PTA, I'm gonna knock this shit out in like 20 minutes" or Team B: " Ms.Independent why would I want another one? Surely one's enough" When you finally dip your pedicured toe(cause you have some time to get your toes done that you are relived of duty Wednesdays, Thursdays and every other Friday) back in to the fucking river Styx that is dating, you need some rulz. And those bullshit rulz for girls that still haven't managed to lock up their 1st husband ain't gonna work sister. Let me help you out.
Rulz #1: The Shit Don't Pop off Like That: make note of the observation in the introduction, those old rulz were made before you(or your mom June Cleaver) realized that, contrary to Disney's relentless marketing campaign; the shit don't pop off that way. He's no night in white armor, fuck he's probably never been to England. Stop laying awake at nite picturing your 2nd wedding barefoot on beach with just your kids, your parents, your best friend, and some bullshit white dress you bought at Banana Republic.
Rulz #2-Do The Math: Q:Does he have more children than he has hands? A: Yes he has 3. Follow Up from The Moderator: Fuck that. If he has more children than he has hands, the likely hood that one of those little shits will get away from him is extremely high. And because he's a man he'll look at you all pitiful and shit and beg for help reigning in a passel of brats that you have no genetic connection to, and that will just annoy you.
Rulz # 3 Be Sure his Ex-Crazy Bitch is on Par with your Crazy-Bitchyness: Establish by interaction #2 what his relationship with his baby-mama is. Is she bat shit crazy? That's fine, but you too should be bat shit crazy. At this stage of the game , when there's children and child support involved everyone needs to be on the same page. You will never understand a woman whose still hurling calling him up 15 time a day to discuss that time he didn't clean up three fucking drops of spit up during a particularly colic-e period 15 years ago. If you and your ex are all "Que cera it didn't work out let's be a grown up and do whats best for our child." and they're still on the turnpike to crazy with no exit that shit will never work out between ya'll. Don't believe me? Alright Madame Curie, experiment with that shit and let me know how it goes.
Rulz #4 You Don't Fucking Have to Get back out There: Under no circumstances allow your fellow divorcee BFF's and/or your delusional never-been-married single friends convince you that you need to just back out there if some punk-ass dude that you would NEVER date asks you out. Practice dating is for women without children who can't quit maxing out their credit cards buying shoes so they can afford their own nice fucking dinner.
Rulz #5 Get it Right, Get it Tight: Look at you lucky girl! You lost 30 lbs from stress and can wear your pre-1st wedding skinny jeans! Congratulations! Everyone hates you! And even though you finally know what your mama meant when she said if you can't be happy you can at least be thin, you did the crime girl, do the time. Under no circumstances ever is a divorce just 1 persons fault. That shit can straight up be 99% to 1%, but check your self before you ride off into the sunset and start doing all that shit I told you not to do in rulz #1. If you don't know how you contributed to the demise of marriage #1, you better figure it out. Skip that step, and its straight ground hog day up in this motherfucker. Your kids have already been through your daddy issues once girl, let's not do that again mmkay?.
I hope theses Rulz will help you on your journey- I got like a million more because I'm a control freak, but I think this will do for now. That's My Word.
R
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