Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘dating’

So Babe, When’re You Coming Over?

Posted in Everyday Shit, tagged , , , , , , , , , on April 18, 2013 | 19 Comments »

Image by Totsymae

Image by Totsymae

I dispensed some unsolicited advice last week that the recipient of that advice cussed me out for after she followed through with it. I didn’t know I was cussed out at the time she did it. We were hanging out in some cruddy bar I’d never been to when she told me. Now, just so you know, I don’t go to bars ’cause I don’t drink. But this sometimes bourgeois friend of mine likes hole in the wall sorta places, I suppose. Anyway…

She had me sitting in this dark bar and I placed an order of food with some fruit punch. You know, you have to do something with your hands or find some sorta busyness in places you don’t know or else you’re gonna stick out like a sore thumb. I just didn’t feel cool otherwise. Know what I mean?

The earlier conversation went like this:

Her: I don’t call men. They have to call me.

Me: Girl, it’s okay to call a man after awhile to at least let him know you’re interested. Shit, you’ve got more years behind you than ahead. Get your ass on the phone and call that man.

Well, she called the man, folks. He tells her last week he’s getting ready to go to the Essence Music Festival and would check her out upon returning. This is after she asked him, “So, when are you coming to see me?”

Now, I never told her to ask him that. I just told that ass to call. She messed around and went that far on her own and now wanna blame me for him not wanting to see her ’til after July. You see, her ass got to searching on the web about the festival and found out it’s in July. Hell, that man lives about 45 minutes away from her, yet he’s going all the way to New Orleans before he makes that 45 minute drive to her place.

Did I tell you my name’s Gidgit and I ain’t in it? Hell, she could’ve called, let the phone ring two times and hung up for all I cared. I never told her to proposition the man. Besides, I’m a southern belle. I’d never dispense that kinda advice. I’m not the kinda woman with that come-over-Big-Daddy kinda way about me.

I am, however, wondering why I’m so under-appreciated, being the good friend I am. Hell, good or bad advice, she’s the one who took it and went to the left with it. My name’s Gidgit.

About these ads

Read Full Post »

Internet Sluts

Posted in I'm Every Woman, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 11, 2013 | 33 Comments »

Google Image

Google Image

I know this woman who likes to tease men on these dating websites. Actually, I know two. One of them sends me profiles of guys I’d never be remotely interested in. It’s a joke to her ’cause when I call her, her being my sister, she laughs her big head off.

The other woman says she’d never meet these guys on account of her weight. That takes all the fun out, I think. I mean, I’d need closure by way of a physical meeting. Plus, I can only talk shit for so long. Then again, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing on this blog almost two years now.

Anyhow, I don’t like the idea of internet dating. I admit, I tried it but it wasn’t my thing. It especially wasn’t my thing when Little Totsy put me on some site and I ended up going out with a gay fella. I mean, can you imagine standing in line at the movies, which is where we went, as a couple and both of us very much in touch with our feminine side? That ain’t hot.

I saw this one guy, when I was on the site, that I knew from my art group. He was a featured bachelor, I suppose, ’cause his photo was highlighted in red and pretty much said he was a featured bachelor. I went to ducking and hiding from the screen, as if he could see me. Shortly after, I removed myself from the site but I knew it was over after going out with the gay fella.

One woman, my sister that is, was telling me how this one guy says that women are looking for men to take them out to eat. I don’t understand that even a little bit. I mean, yeah, I like to eat but I don’t wanna have to work that hard for a meal with somebody I don’t know. Anyhow, this same guy, she told me, had a “date” with this one woman and she expected food before fulfilling their “agreement.” She was totally baffled that he wouldn’t at least take her out to eat before their “agreement” and he ended up kicking her outta his place. Not literally but based on the exchange they had, he may as well had. And when you think about this woman going to this man’s house on their first meeting, well, I think that’s pretty much a request to be murdered. You agree or no?

Now, back to the other man teaser, who’s my friend. She’s on the sites playing hard to get, which I don’t get, ’cause ain’t the whole purpose of being on these sites is to get somebody? Or are these type folk internet sluts?

Read Full Post »

2012 Wrap Up

Posted in I'm Every Woman, tagged , , , , , , , on December 20, 2012 | 34 Comments »

"Dream State" Mixed Media on paper. Size" 9x12.Copyright 2012

“Dream State” Mixed Media on paper. Size” 9×12. Copyright 2012

It’s a busy, and for some folk, stressful time. I don’t know what makes the holiest part of the year stressful. Well, it’s Jesus’ birthday, if you’re of a Christian nature. This time of year don’t bother me with stress. It’s a time to settle down and regroup ’cause this is when folk get the most time off. It’s been real strange to me though, how there are so many folk outta work, and have been for awhile, but the malls and store parking lots are packed. I’m like, shit, where did the money come from all of a sudden?

I wish at the end of every year, I could go and shop like a mad woman but I’d probably end up extremely bored with it. Redundancy is unsettling to me. Like, if I was dating a fella and all we did on Friday nights was pop in a DVD and eat chicken nuggets or some other fake food of that nature, I’d eventually want to pop the shit outta him. Not that I would but I’d certainly imagine it and humor myself with the thought.

I remember this one fella I dated was always talking about women he dated. He thought he was hot shit. One time he told me, “I’m gonna work out and be all fine the next time you see me.” I told that ass, “Must gonna be a loooong time before I see you again.” If you knew anything about him, you’d understand why I had to shoot off like that. Then again, you can meet him now.

Anyhow. I’m gonna be a little quiet over these last days of this year as I try to wrap up some things. Plus, my son, who calls himself Masta Unk now, is here from the army, so I’m gonna enjoy his time here. Now, ladies, not ’cause he came from me, or maybe so, but Masta Unk IS the shit. (Wink, wink y’all).

Read Full Post »

What’s Your Sign?

Posted in Everyday Shit, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 9, 2012 | 37 Comments »

Google Image

Now that I’ve gotten what I wanted, you won’t be hearing me talk politics again. Well, I don’t mean ever but for awhile, you won’t. I was starting to get on my own nerves for a minute, so I know it was tough on you too, coming over here and listening to me pick on politicians and whatnot. But since I pick on my own self just as much, if not more, don’t be mad at me. Though, it’s time to move on, folks. To what, I have no idea. I’m lost and wandering about rather naked now.

I can tell you that I’ve been on the real busy side. That could be a good thing if I wanted to be that busy but hell, it ain’t the kinda busy I wanna be. I mean, I’m trying to fit creativity back into my life, which has gone from sugar to shit. I haven’t painted almost all year. When I go that long without painting, I always have the fear that I won’t know how anymore. Losing that would be akin to losing a limb.  And then the more that fear builds, the more intimidated I become to even try. It’s like, what if I can’t? I’ve written a lot but not enough. I probably should’ve dated and married up with that fella from a few years back since he liked me real hard. Then, I’d been able to sit on my ass and write the way I want but I didn’t like him like that. He didn’t wanna be my friend, so eventually he changed his number and email, like I was harrassing him or something. The nerve!

I wasn’t trippin’ though. See, I’m a Leo and I don’t like Leo men. They’re arrogant and bossy. At least the ones I know. If you’re a Leo woman and hooked up with a Leo man, I don’t know how you do it. I’m not typically into that whole horoscope thing but I can’t help recognizing that Leo men eventually get on my nerves. Scorpios too. They run about neck and neck on the nerve radar.  I have high and low tolerances, like anybody. I believe I’m rather in tune with myself, so I don’t get on folk nerves. Seriously. It’s them, not me. I won’t even claim that kinda responsibility.

Anyhow. I’m about to get my blog ready for Christmas. You know, maybe tell Christmas stories, play music and bake cookies or something. Not that I’m the baking kinda woman but I can whip up a box cake like nobody’s business when I put my mind to it.

Read Full Post »

A Grown Folk Fairy Tale – Once Upon a Bootleg Man

Posted in Grown Folk Tales, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 23, 2012 | 22 Comments »

Illustration and book cover design by Totsymae. Blog content and artwork copyrights 2011 by Totsymae

For the first time, I’m re-posting. Will try not to make it a habit, however. There are five mini-chapters and you may visit Grown Folk Tales to get the full story. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter One

Once upon a time, a woman named Desperita met this fine ass man. Oh, he was the shit. Talked shit. Walked shit. Was simply, the shit. Period. Matter of fact, she thought she had a fine enough shape on her almost-forty body and a cute face, so she could be classified as the shit too. They were at their local Piggly Wiggly, which should’ve been a clear sign to Desperita then and there, for reasons that can’t rightly be explained.

Desperita was a good woman of education and acquired things like, a big ass house, where all of her furniture was fully paid for, a modest-priced car, and a fairly nice paycheck, even stocks and bonds before the market sunk a deep hole in her future savings. She had everything except somebody breathing next to her at night. Not even a snotty-nose child sitting across from her at the dinner table. She ate with Will Downing calling out her loneliness from her stereo. Oh, sometimes the pain tuckered in her long and deep. One Friday after work was one such time, when she ran up on Bootleg Man.

“Hey, there. You go right on ahead of me in this line, so you can hurry on home and get off your pretty feet,” he told her, looking at her all up and down, like the wolf did Little Red Riding Hood.

Shit, it didn’t take much to blow her lonely mind, so they got to talking. Matter of fact, they stood in the parking lot damn near half an hour, so the so-called concern he showed for her feet wasn’t worth no more shit than he was but Desperita didn’t reflect on that, even in her educated mind. She was too busy being all impressed with this new fella, who also had him some education, read books like history, philosophy, business and the like. Oh, Bootleg Man had her ’cause she didn’t run up on too many men who read philosophy. She didn’t understand it herself. Shit, she was just waiting for this one to ask for her number.

“You know what? I really enjoyed talking with you,” Bootleg Man told her but had to catch himself from licking his lips when he looked at all her fineness again and the latest model of the Volkswagen Passat she was driving. It was clean inside, which meant she was just as clean at her home he wanted to get inside and lay up in. He liked himself a clean woman, especially one that cleaned up after him while he went to his piece of a job, where he had the habit of cutting a fool and landed himself on the shit list. Any wrong move could send him in the throes of the unemployment line. He was looking out for his future and ole girl looked to be a real soft place to land.

“I really enjoyed you too. I’ll write my cell number on the back of my card.” Desperita scribbled her number on the back and handed her card over to  Bootleg Man.

Shit, he was smiling when he got that card and read it. She was a vice-principal at a school for the county. A good paying and secure job, she had. Plus, she was fine. Damn! “I’ll be calling you, Desperita. I usually don’t come in here to shop but I’m glad I did today. Must’ve been fate,” he lied through his phony grin. His ass went in there all the time on foot on account of his car being broke down in his driveway.

Copyright 2011 Totsymae

Read Full Post »

I’d Be Rolling In Dough If I Had A Psychic Hotline

Posted in On the Road, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on May 23, 2012 | 31 Comments »

Like I told you before, I live on what you’d call a compound. Within the compound are little apartments we call villas. Well, most folk have roommates, including me. There are males and females and a handful of Muslim women, so it’s a small community of folk that see and hear each other all the time.

Men folk  and women folk match themselves up together and if you’re thinking what I’m thinking, when it don’t work out, everybody and the pet dog know about it. Therefore, it ain’t too pretty ’cause everybody’s talking ’cause that’s part of life here.

Well, you remember that time I posted something about being a holla back girl and posted that video by Gwen Stefani? Go back and read all about it if you want but Holla Back Girl is my roomie. Turns out, this fella she’d been kickin’ it with dropped her like a hot rock. I’d feel sorry for her if she wasn’t a bitch but I don’t. I don’t know folks. I tried to like her real hard but I don’t. She’s miserable, made even more miserable after getting dumped.

So, the lowdown is that during a poker game, she messed around and blurted out, “Who’s Gandhi?” Folks, boyfriend, dickfriend or whatever the hell he was was sitting there. I told her, “He couldn’t have been pleased when you said that. That’s like me saying I don’t know who Martin Luther King was.” This trick goes, “Who’s Martin Luther King?” Everybody in the room is stunned and she’s the only one laughing.

Anyhow, when I told her Dickfriend couldn’t have been pleased with her, she said he liked when she didn’t know things and gets pleasure in teaching her things. I’m thinking I know this man better than her without him being my Dickfriend ’cause in my brief encounters, he’s stimulated by intellectualizing and I live and hear this woman on a daily basis, folks. She ain’t the one for nothing brain-based. Just a couple of weeks ago, she said he told her that if they ever left Saudi, he’d have nothing to do with her. Straight up. I told her, “So that translates to him saying you’re something to do while he’s here.”

Now, get this, folks. It’s gonna blow a hole in your socks. He’s at the poker game last night and not only did one other fella who was there call her dumb but so did Dickfriend. Talk about a shitty feeling.

I can hear her in the room bitchin’ now in Afrikaans.

Read Full Post »

I Do Believe A Clothesline Is In Order

Posted in Beatrice from Apt 7B, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 8, 2012 | 26 Comments »

"Beatrice Jones" Copyright 2012 Totsymae

Like Totsy, I was born and raised in the south. Unlike Totsy, however, I’m skilled in speaking standard English, just so you know the difference. Plus, I cook. Southern women like myself are a dying breed but I’m keeping hope alive down here and doing it well. Thank you very much.

I said all of that since *ahem* she’s failed so miserably in making proper introductions. Let me state it right here and now, I’m your National Hollywood Gossip Correspondent (NHGC). I’m all about what’s happening in the Wood and the Hood and I’m currently on location, at the home of Jennifer Lopez, famously known as J. Lo, Go Lo or whoever. I’m here to bring you the glory of the story. Pardon me for reporting in at this late date but (rolling neck and putting hand on thick and fine hip) as you can see, Totsy’s been a blog hog. This, we must put an end to, people. I take my job very, very seriously.

Now, in my hand, I’m carrying a fresh clothesline, bought from my local Target down south. Yes, goodness. You see, Jenny from The Block needs to stop and I’m here, at the security gate trying to get in. Evidently, she’s changed the code on me because we had a falling out when I was last here to lay some brutal frankness on her about this marital situation.

Ladies and Gents, this won’t be a cinch but I also have a box of Tide Laundry Detergent with me. Praise Procter and Gamble. My motives are pure  to cure and in her best interest. Amen to the fifth power. But I am strictly here to perform an intervention on this new relationship she has with Boy Toy. Simply put, this here clothesline will be going in Jen’s backyard. What I’m going to do is knock her out with this hammer, as I’m fully equipped, and I’m going to wash her with some of this Tide and a sprinkle of holy water I have in this little vial and hang her right side down on the line, people. You well know she hasn’t had a break since P Daddy, What Diddy or whatever he calls himself. You see, after I wring her out, and I know she won’t go down without a shout and a few bruises to my person but we, meaning me, must get her washed and on this clothesline to air out. Can I get a witness, an Amen or something in that arena?

Oh my, I hear people speaking in tongues…

Read Full Post »

Hypothetically Speaking

Posted in The Yin & Yang of It, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 21, 2012 | 48 Comments »

"Free Spirit" Mixed Media on paper. Copyright 2012 Totsymae

Okay, say you’re minding your own business and you get a text from someone trying to set you up. Now, the other half of what you’re getting matched up with would make you a cougar. So, hypothetically speaking, he’s five years younger than you originally thought and you decide that won’t work. Okay? Then, he or she feels all bad ’cause it ain’t been easy to get hooked up, so you, hypothetically, decide that maybe you oughta see what this fella’s all about. Give the cougar life a try. Alright?

Well, before you knew his actual age, he or she begins the communication process and it comes primarily in the form of texting. There’s been a couple of calls but ’cause Cougar is a cougar, she picks up the phone to call. They talk. He calls back a couple more times, in the same day but no talking goes on after that. So hypothetically, in the meantime, you go into coughing fits on account of something like pollen catches a hold of you and it’s so bad, you lose your voice and strain to talk when you have to but you ain’t gotta be concerned about that with the young fella ’cause all he wanna do is punch letters in a damn phone. Hypothetically speaking, you assume it’s time to hang up your cougar hat. For two days, you get this he-so-sad story, which, hypothetically, is the time you made the call to say something like , ‘Okay, let’s talk.’

Anyhow, hypothetically, for about three days, you can’t talk but hell, he don’t know and never will ’cause his ass is still punching letters in the phone like he’s got an abbreviated mindset. ‘Cause the whole thing seems downright silly, you come into your mind when you’re feeling better and go to thinking, ‘What kinda shit is this? Is this how they do it?’ Shit, hypothetically speaking, you go back to minding your business since you weren’t interested in being no cougar in the first place.

Read Full Post »

You Can’t Help Everybody

Posted in The Yin & Yang of It, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 16, 2012 | 40 Comments »

"Two Hats" Watercolor/Ink on paper. Copyright 2012. Totsymae

I’m 1 for 2 in the matchmaking game. The first guy I set up with this woman was some years back. They were doing some foolish whatnots and it didn’t work out. This was before I married. I got tired of him looking at me, so I passed him on to somebody who might want him. Anyhow, I am truly into the hooking up business on so many levels. It’s what makes the world go ’round and gets us in a heapa mess sometimes. Ask any politician on his deathbed and he’ll tell you. So I figure, I want my share of the mess too, whether that’s on the low-low or the free. Y’all feel me?

I hooked my auntie up a few short years back. After a year, they wedded on up. It was a clean sweep. I knew after a month of them dating, a wedding was coming. I didn’t make the wedding on account of an appointment I couldn’t break but that’s okay, my work was done.

Okay. So, last summer I had to get one of my ACs replaced. The guy who came was retired and knows electricity inside and out. I got to checking him out real good and figured him up to be a nice fella. Then, I got to thinking about this woman I used to work with who could use herself a good man. I never got that relationship off the ground then but last week, when he came over, my mind backtracked on this unfinished business I had to do with this hook up.

Alright. My fingers got busy with texting her and so on and forth. Well, he called her last week but she was at the beauty parlor under the hair dryer. He left a message and said he’d call back but he didn’t say who he was, although she knew ’cause they had each other’s numbers. She didn’t call him back. She wants him to call her again. He wants her to show she’s interested by giving him a call back. After speaking with him, I text her and said, “U got more years behind U than ahead. When that man calls, U pik up that phone. U ain’t got time to be playin.”

‘Cause they haven’t made contact, they’re both thinking the other ain’t interested. I’m like, Lordy mercy. What am I gonna do with these ole folk? Now, I started to call one or the other back for this hook to latch on but I configure it up like this. If they’re going about it this way, I can’t be the one putting all the energy into this thing. I never had to work at it this hard before. Besides, it probably wouldn’t work out anyway, huh…

Read Full Post »

Maybe I Need A Prenup Too

Posted in The Yin & Yang of It, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 12, 2012 | 48 Comments »

"To the Market" Acrylic on Paper. Copyright 2012 Totsymae

I was reading a blog post that Michael Jordan’s gonna be tying up a knot with his lady friend and I’m real glad I came across that. Now, the article suggested a prenup to Michael, if he had to go this kinda distance with her. Being that Ex-Wife made off pretty good, I suppose Michael would wanna keep whatever he’s got coming in to himself, should things go haywire. I suspect him to be a sharp man since he ain’t broke like a lot of athletes that end up with overdraft fees on their checking accounts.

From where I’m sitting, it can be a real awkward moment should, say, I was marrying up with some rich man and he handed me the pen to sign some papers that say I can’t have none of his shit no more should we part ways. Even more awkward should I try to negotiate, “Well, can I at least have the Porsche and the paid-out beach-front property and…?” It’s strange, ain’t it? I guess folk who date folk like that expect a prenup to be part of the package.

Then I got to thinking about my own shit. You know, this fella I dated from way back, maybe a couple of years or so after my own marriage went further south, been trying to pop his head back in mine but I ain’t stuttin’ him, y’all. I mean, he’s a right nice fella but that’s about all I can say on that. Don’t go thinking I’m being mean-hearted on account of me blogging about not wanting him. I can say what I want and don’t want on my blog, can’t I? After all, I did attach niceness to his personality and I can also say he’s a good conversationalist but.

Let me put it to you this way, folks. I’m getting sorted over here to fly out and I ain’t trying to make no deals like if-you-get-back-and-you-ain’t-married-and-I-ain’t-married-we-gonna-get-married. Can’t remember the last time I even saw him and he’s coming at me with some lazy ass deal over the phone. What kinda shit is that? That’s like telling me if we ain’t found who we really want, we gonna settle for each other. Maybe it’s just me though ’cause I think very thoroughly about matters most of the time and I don’t think myself to be a stupid person. I mean, I’ve done some stupid shit from time to time but believe you me, folks, I try to put a period on that. Okay? I ain’t trying to trip on no I dos with him. Shiiiiit. I ain’t that hard up.

Plus, I have to consider what I need to protect on my end over here. Hell, talking about Michael needing a prenup, I got my own ass and sets of things I need to scribble down on a piece of paper too. I’ve got a good running washer and dryer. All these books gotta be worth something with the buy-back program on Amazon. I ain’t even mentioned the ceiling fans that’ll blow the devil himself up outta  here to yonder, as though God Himself was on his heels.  I ain’t playin’. And I’ve got a spinning spice rack. I don’t need nobody trying to make off with my shit. Hell. He better take that deal to the next contestant ’cause he had to be puffing on some good ass weed when he fixed his mouth to say that to me.

Hmph…Got me on this blog talking to y’all about dumb shit.

Read Full Post »

On Dating: Some Things A Woman Should Never Do

Posted in The Yin & Yang of It, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 21, 2011 | 50 Comments »

"The Divas" Mixed Media on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

Publicly reveal that she can’t control her bladder after having six children. The mother of the Kardashians did it. Now, all I can think of is that she’s bigger than most women down there and I kinda wonder how’s the sex been in the bedroom for her and Bruce, which makes me a little embarrassed for him (and by the way, doesn’t he look really plastic?)

Publicly scratch herself below the waistline. Yeah, I know men folk do it but it’s more acceptable for them to not give a shit. If a woman does it, she immediately becomes the poster child for being a stank-nasty bitch, starting to border something like a slut and looks as if she’s got a nest of crabs in her underwear but it’s totally okay if a guy is approaching her and she doesn’t wanna be bothered with him. Such defense mechanisms can be useful to ward off bootleg men.

Wear thongs if she’s overweight AND bends over in public for all the world to see. I’m not discriminating on larger sized women but honestly, if a woman absolutely feels as if she needs something like a rope or string to cut her ass in half, it looks much better on a smaller woman. I’m average in size myself and wouldn’t risk my reputation in this manner. Remember, should you option to do this regardless of my good and  practical advice, bad news travels fast. If I happen to be the one, unfortunately, privy to seeing the crack of your ass and I’m feeling a little wicked, I wouldn’t give a second thought to painting you up and exposing you here on this blog.

Pass gas in front of her date or even look as if she’s got an upset stomach within six months of getting to know him. I totally understand that farting and shitting is a natural bodily function but women, in most cases, date for a committed relationship. She simply won’t land this new fella if she starts giving in to Mother Nature. That’s why it’s not a good idea to spend overnight weekends with a guy early on in the relationship. I promise, should you decide you want to go on this romantic get-away of camping in the woods, you will have to shit out the food you’ve been eating at some point. You don’t want to put yourself in the position of being absent too long in the “ladies’ room” or have your eyeballs look as if they’re damn near popping outta their sockets from holding back all of what you’ve digested. Trust me, if after that trip you no longer are hearing from this guy you’ve broken yourself off to, it wasn’t ’cause you weren’t fantastic in bed. Absolutely, you were! Men folk are shallow when it comes to this kinda thing. He simply couldn’t get over that as beautiful as you are, something so foul would come from your body. I know you didn’t think it smelled that awful but believe me, it did!

Act like you’re suddenly watching your weight and not eat all of your food when you’re at a restaurant, knowing you’re tilting the scales already. Acting fake ain’t gonna cut it. The evidence is too visible to start making like you and Jenny Craig are best friends and all. Plus, inflation is dipping into everybody’s pockets. You don’t want to look ungrateful AND  fake. He may think you don’t know the value of a dollar.

Eat chicken, especially barbeque, on the first couple of dates. It ain’t gonna matter how cute you try to look, it just won’t go over well. You’ll fight the urge to go to licking your fingers and Lord help your poor soul should you slip up and stick one in your mouth like you’ve forgotten you’re on a date and start acting like you’re in the comfort of your own kitchen. Now, we both know you were raised better than that but that fella you’re dating ain’t got a clue. Should you make this fatal error, you’ll need to quickly get that hump outta your back and remove the chicken bone outta your mouth. Once he drops you off at the doorstep of your home, you’ll need to walk swiftly into the darkness of your closet, repent and pray to God that you even get the invite for a camping trip.

Read Full Post »

Now on Sale: A Dollar’s Worth of Advice to Single Women Folk

Posted in The Yin & Yang of It, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 9, 2011 | 49 Comments »

Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

Last night, I was minding my own business and got to cruising Facebook. I stumble on this question that asks, “What can a woman do to find a good man?” Folks, that will be our topic of discussion for this session. After our discussion, you have the option to hit me up with a donation if you deem my from-the-streets advice worthy of a piece of your pocket change. I’ll also take donations of the paper medium too. Picky ain’t my middle name.

Now. First off, I’m bothered by the question itself, to be right honest with you. Maybe I don’t care as much about a relationship. Maybe I simply don’t know enough about the game. Whatever. I’m just real bothered by women pursuing men folk. Only second to working to put food on the table, how to hose a man down and make him theirs is a prime topic that women are talking about. I’m not a male basher but I just don’t think it’s that serious.

Sure, it’s a right nice thing to have a fella to hold your hand and let you know you could use a bit of lotion to soften up the rough spots. I’m even okay with a little snoring and a leg being thrown on me that might stir me awake. And he can criticize my cooking all he wants, just as long as he can replace what I burned with something edible. Those things are nice and all to have but I think it’s kinda grinding my nerves that women folk put so much stock into a man rounding out the picture of happiness. I mean, for quite a few men, they can be content with having a woman every now and then. If women took on the same attitude, like they didn’t give a damn, a man is gonna come atcha. They don’t like to be chased and hunted down like prey, the way women are going about it now. Shit, ease the hell up and suck on a popsicle or something. A lot of what women are chasing after ain’t even worth the chase no how.

I just don’t like women folk being out there all willy nilly and making men the center of everything that’s important. Single women folk out there, and those married ones who’ve got single friends, here’s a round of advice I want to share for those times that you’ve created in your mind as hard ass times ’cause you ain’t got no man and don’t think you’ll ever have one:

  1. If need be, purchase your ass some pretty stationary. Spray perfume all over it too and get yourself a pen pal from your local jail cell. Write your ass a letter and mail it off with a photo of you with your tongue licking on your finger. Shit, some of you out here doing it anyway. You’ll have a plethora of fan mail too. I mean, some women are so easily entertained. aren’t they? Just do that shit before you get wrapped up in the real thing and end up knee-deep in the shit of a real relationship like so many women do. I’m sure the stamps, paper and your trips to the post office will be less costly and you can invest as much or little time as you wish ’cause everything will be on your terms. You’ll also be in control the way some of you like to be anyway.
  2. Buy yourself some boxers and walk around the house in them without anything else on. Order yourself some pizzas, have a six-pack and don’t throw the pizza boxes away for a week. Hell, invite your single BFFs over so they can sit around in their boxers with you. Enjoy your singlehood the way men do and stop walking around like somebody’s got you by the tits and holding your happiness hostage.  I’m telling you, it ain’t that serious.
  3. And if numbers 1 and 2 absolutely ain’t gonna do it for you, hell, start reading the obituaries. Wives die sometimes and there’s a spot you can fill. I know that ain’t sounding good on my part but that’s a reality we all gotta face. Plus, I know every last one of you may know somebody or heard tell of some woman making special house calls after a man’s lost his other half. Shit, I’m just  putting it out there on the for real tip. You can even get on the web and read up on this kinda information, I’m sure. Use technology to your advantage and get your ass a ticket to fly out to that funeral. You could pretend to be that long lost friend from the nursery school. Shit, he won’t know the difference. His face will be too deeply buried and crying between your breasts to think otherwise. Just remember to spray a light whiff of perfume in the crease of your bosom to intoxicate his ass and cook him up a good meal. Keep in mind, he’s weak and you want to get him at his most vulnerable moment to make him yours. Ain’t that much worse than any other trap out there.

I’m sorry to say but at the moment, I don’t take credit cards. I’m trying to keep the overhead down and the government outta my business. Call my little operation bootleg if you want but come on folks, think of some women you know. This post is at least worth a dollar, ain’t it?

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,546 other followers