Wednesday, November 30, 2005


I wasn't going to blog today. After yesterday's rant, I didn't have much on my mind. Plus, I've grown tired of writing about The Idiot Who Made Me Cry, The Guy Who Shouldn't Make Me Cry, Broke Ass Niggas and men in general. And I'm sure you, my faithful readers, have gotten sick of reading about my issues with men. Shit, who am I kidding, no you haven't. The only reason you all read my blog is because you're sick, voyeuristic mofos who get off on knowing that there is at least one person in this world who is just as fucked up as you if not more so. But that's neither here nor there. The point is, I felt as though the well had run dry. Oh, but silly me forgot that as long as I'm alive the well will never run dry, because as the bumper sticker said, "Shit happens."
Today I was reading through the comments people have left in my blog (thank you thank you for agreeing with me, and if you didn't then bite me). While perusing through them, I found one from someone who knows me informing me that I've inspired them to start their own blog. I was so moved. To think that lil ol' me could be someone's inspiration is just more than I could have ever hoped for. The fact that I managed to strike a cord in someone who I'm friends with just really lets me know why I'm here on this earth. And reading their first blog entry damn near brought a tear to mine eye. The only thing that could've made this joyous event even more perfect is knowing who the hell this person is.
I have an idea of who could've left the message. Actually it's down to two people, but I shouldn't have to rack my brain to figure this out. They should've left their name. And not a screenname either (unless it's the same screenname they use for IM, email, and all online message boards). How in the world would anyone expect me to figure out who they are based on a screenname I've never seen and a blog title that doesn't match the screenname. Honestly, that's just a bit presumptuous in my opinion. Do people assume that they are my only friend in the entire world so I should automatically assume that the message came from them? This reminds me of those guys that call and say, "Hey, it's me." Like "me" is enough information to figure out who is dialing my number at 2 a.m. Is it the "me" who spends all day looking in mirror, or the "me" or hasn't called in 3 weeks, or could it be the "me" who's obsessed with those loser NY Knicks, or possibly the "me" with several gunshot wounds? I just can't tell. And it's a bit egotistical to think that you'd be the only "me" with a baritone that calls me up at ungodly hours. So then I've gotta play the guessing game and God forbid I guess wrong. Cause that always leads to "who else calls you at this hour?" And that's a conversation neither one of us wants to have. Equally annoying are those folks who decide to forgoe the screenname they've chatted with for the past 5 years and IM you with one you've never seen before and assume you'll accept a message from 10inchstud05. Then they want to IM you from their old screenname all mad that you rejected the first message. Well Dipshit, how was I supposed to know it's you. There was nothing in that screenname that even remotely described you so I'd rather reject the message than take my chances at getting a web invite to see Stud Man having all sorts of inapporpriate fun with farm animals. I may be a freak, but I ain't that freaky.
Oh, but I digress! I thought it was common knowledge that if you leave someone a message, you should let them know from whom the message came. Why do you think every answering machine across the country asks for your name in addition to whatever message you want to leave? Let me give you a hint, because most people are not anti social freaks and have more than one person in their lives. Same principle applies to my blog. If you're leaving me a message don't expect me to know who you are. Everyone sounds the same when printed in Times New Roman. So get over yourself and realize that you are not THAT special and leave a freaking name next time. Thanks much.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Crazy is as Crazy Does

More than anything in this world, I hate being called crazy. It's annoying when my friends say it and particularly grating when my family says it. But NOTHING pisses me off more than when a man says, "You're crazy." Damn it, I am NOT crazy. I'm perfectly sane. I swear it! Alright, fine, maybe I'm half crazy. But it's not my fault.
Here's what I've come to realize, at some point in time, every man thinks that his girlfriend is crazy. And to be honest, he's probably right. But in defense of females worldwide, I've gotta say, we didn't start out crazy. We were driven to insanity by the men we care about. Don't believe me? Watch General Hospital. Carly wound up in a sanitarium because of Sonny. Maybe by getting this issue out in the open we can prevent another previously stable woman from losing her marbles over a set of cute dimples and a nice ass.
Now Men, when you first met us, we were in our right minds. In fact we were that cool, fun, laid back chick that you've waited for your entire life. We'd sit on the couch all day on Sunday watching football with you. We'd get all dolled up and make you a nice dinner for two. We'd laugh at your crude jokes and match them with even cruder ones of our own. We made no demands and were completely lucid and rational at all times. Hell, we were just like you and your boys except with longer hair and boobs. Then seemingly out of the blue, ying to your yang morphs into the nagging psycho girlfriend from hell. What happened?
Well Men, I'll tell you what happened. But before I do, let's take a closer look at what was going on when your girl was "normal." I'd bet the negative balance in my checking account that you were probably calling her all the time and talking for hours; leaving her cute text messages, emails, and notes about how much you like her/miss her/want her; spending every moment of your free time with her; keeping your fridge stocked with Yoplait and granola bars just for me; watching soap operas with me; letting me keep your sweatpants...wait, I mean HER...yes her...sorry it got personal for a second. Anyways, basically she was happy, laidback, and content because you gave her every reason to be. So it stands to reason that maybe the reason that she's whiny, uptight, and crazy is because you're no longer giving her a reason to be cool, calm, and collected. HHMMMMMM, there's a thought.
What you men don't seem to realize is that women are creatures of habit and women notice EVERYTHING. I've said it before and I'll say it again, if you get us used to things, the moment anything changes we're gonna think something is wrong. For some reason you guys have a tendency to get complacent. You don't say and do the things you initially did to get us. Well when that stuff stops, the crazy begins. But to us women, it's not crazy. We're simply trying to be mature adults and communicate our issues. The problem is, men don't see the issue. For some strange reason men think that as long as they're still with us, we're to assume that the feelings are still there and you still like us just as much as you did before. You always say, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be." But that's not really believeable when after a while your contribution to the relationship is just "being there." Taking up space on the couch next to us does not constitute showing interest. Having the same "Hey how ya doing?" conversation on the phone every night does not make us feel desired. Basically, Karen White said it best when she sang, "You're just going through the motions and you're not being fair." Going through the motions does not make a woman feel loved, wanted, appreciated, and all the other things she needs to feel in order to be laidback, cool, and carefree.
Playing games is for children and we're grown women now with jobs, bank accounts, and fuzzy pajamas with the feet. We're beyond the games. So we sit our men down and say, "We need to talk. I'm sensing that there's something wrong and I want to fix it," or something along those lines. So we pour our hearts out to you. We explain how we're feeling and why. And after we get it all out we look deep into your eyes and all we see is a blank stare of confusion. So we try to say it again. More blank stares. Then we try to use different words and different examples and analogies and you still stare blankly. After a while it seems like all we're doing is saying the same thing over and over and over again. All of a sudden we've gone from cool chick to crazy chick faster than it took Tom to knock up Katie.
Just so you know, we know we sound like a broken record, and we hate it. But all we want is to be understood. All we want is to just see the faint glimmer of comprehension in your vacant, childlike eyes. Well, that's not all we want. We also want you to do the things you used to do before you got in our pants. But that's secondary. When we feel like we're not being heard or understood we keep on harping on the same issues ad nauseum. We really don't want to do this. In fact, we can sense when we're about to do it and we're helpless to stop ourselves. It's like an out of body experience. We can hear how we sound and we know it's annoying you and we can sense the craziness, but it's out of our hands and beyond our control. We just have to keep at it until you get it. So please, do us and yourselves a favor....either never stop acting the way you did when we first met you or try to meet us halfway and say, "Baby, I understand." It'll go over so much better than saying, "Bitch, you crazy!"

Monday, November 28, 2005

Lessons Learned

I've been doing this blogging thing for about four months now; first on Friendster and now here at blogspot. When I first started doing this, I figured my blog would be a way for me to avoid work for a few hours each day. In all my writing, never did I imagine that blogging would do more than just give me an outlet for my random musings. This blog has actually taught me valuable life lessons.

Lesson 1: Be very careful about who gets the URL to your blog
From the jump I was always concerned about The Idiot Who Made Me Cry getting his hands on the link to my blog and reading everything I've said about him. Turns out, he wasn't the one I should've been worried about. When the blog used to be at Friendster I got in the sharing mood. I passed the link along to my friends and associates and let them get a good look at life as I know it. Well I must've been feeling really, really open because for reasons that escape me now, I even gave the link to my parents. I guess I had temporary amnesia and forgot about all the things I've written. They were all over my blog like flies on shit. Not a week would go by without a phone call or an email questioning me about my lost wallet (Priorities - 10/9 post), my belief in God (Not So Midlife Crisis - 10/30 post), and my love life (The Sixth Sense - 11/11 post). I don't know why I believed that they were mature enough to read my blog for literary enjoyment and not as a means to pry into my private life. Needless to say they did NOT get the memo that I've now moved to blogspot. It's a good thing because "Immaculate Conception" might have sent them to their graves.

Lesson 2: Blogging is a lot like high school
Everyone knows that in high school you had your popular kids and you had the kids who wanted to be popular. Same thing can be said about blogging. You've got the popular blogs like the Angry Black Bitch ( and you've got the blogs that really want to be popular like The Brain Dump (that's the one you're currently reading). So what's a blog to do when it's on the outside looking in, longing to be one of the cool blogs that everyone reads and talks about? You've got it! That blog gets as close to the popular ones as possible so that a little bit of their coolness can rub off. It's your basic principle of transferance (sp?). If you hang out at the popular blogspots long enough and let others folks know you're hanging out there, somehow you get popular by default. The strategy is working. In the last week, I've seen my hits skyrocket!! Thank you ABB and Cranky Professor (
*Disclaimer: These blogs really are great and deserve to be popular. If you haven't already go check them out.

Lesson 3: Wit, Sarcasm, and Humor are lost on most folks
If everything written has to be prefaced with "I'm just kidding" it ruins the joke. However, a lot of blog readers don't get jokes. I'm noticing it more and more whenever I read the comments they post. I'm not going to say which posts shouldn't be taken literally, cause that would ruin all my fun. I sure do get a kick out of laughing at dim bulbs.

Lesson 4: Blogging saves money
I've just saved a ton of money on therapy bills by blogging. Who needs a therapist when you've got an open forum to air dirty laundry and countless strangers/voyeurs willing to play amateur shrinks and doctors. Thus far I've taken 2 pregnancy tests even though I'm riding the crimson tide, all at the behest of my concerned therapists. I would've shelled out a bundle of money just for a professional to tell me what an Anonymous commenter let me know for free: I'm crazy!

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Immaculate Conception

People said it couldn't happen. They said it was completely impossible. The laws of nature don't allow for it. Well I'm here to proclaim that not only can it happen, it did happen. It's a miracle! I'm pregnant, yet I haven't done a damn thing that would lead to procreation. The last time this happened was roughly 2000 years ago somewhere in Galilee or was it Nazareth or maybe it was Jerusalem. Who knows, that's not the point.
So you're probably wondering why I believe that a child has been conceived without the help of a man. Well, I don't know how it happened, but I've got all the classic symptoms of being with child. Here's the evidence. Draw your own conclusion.

Exhibit A: I've got cravings.
For the past few weeks I haven't been able to get enough of baked Tostitos with extra spicy salsa and yogurt. I know it sounds gross. But I love it. I can't stop eating it. Who would like a concoction like that unless they were preggers?

Exhibit B: My bladder has shrunk
I pee every hour on the hour and sometimes twice in the same hour. Ingesting one drop of liquid will send me to the bathroom within 5 minutes to relieve myself. I'm going through toilet paper like J Lo goes through husbands. I'm going to attribute these frequent sudden urges to my pregnancy instead of a possible case of overactive bladder.

Exhibit C: The skinny jeans no longer fit
Okay, fine. My skinny jeans haven't fit in over a year. But being pregnant is a much better reason for not fitting into my clothes than acknowledging the fact that late night trips to Fridays for the Brownie Obsession have made me a fat cow.

Exhibit D: Gas
Don't nobody got gas like a pregnant woman. And I must say I've been blowing my house up as of late. It could be the oat bran, whole grain bread, whole grain cereal, whole grain pasta, and brown rice that I feast on everyday, but it's much more plausible that pregnancy is the reason why the faint scent of sulfuric acid follows me wherever I go.

Exhibit E: I'm already starting to show
I'm not quite sure of the date of conception, however I know I'm pregnant cause I'm showing. My tummy pokes out and it's not squishy when I poke it. If that ain't pregnant I don't know what is? I highly doubt that the two eggs, home fried potatoes, buttered toast, and soup that I had for lunch have anything to do with my present condition.

See! When you add up all the symptoms, I'm most definitely gonna be having a little squirmy, screaming, shitting bundle of joy within the next 6 to 8 months. I'm sure of it. I could take a pregnancy test and know for sure, but I never did trust those home tests (remember the folks in the commercial get paid to say that test is error proof) and I don't want to see the incredulous stares at the doctor's office when I explain the story of my miracle baby. So nope, I'll keep this to myself until it's time for someone to knock me the hell out and deliever my kid for me. In the meantime, I'm off to go feed the growing embryo.

Friday, November 18, 2005

Cosmic Joke

I have the most wonderful man in my life right now. He's smart, he's hilarious, he dresses well, loves God, loves his family, listens, gives great advice, and best of all puts up with me no matter what. Honestly, I really don't know what I would do without him. Our bond is amazing and I truly value it. Now you're probably wondering where this is coming from, since just last week I was blogging about male stupidity. Well obviously I'm not talking about the same person. And no I haven't met anyone new within the last 7 days. Nope! Mr. Wonderful has been in my life for years. And no, I haven't been doing any kind of extracurricular relationship activities either. I'm not that kind of person. Nothing would ever come between Mr. Wonderful and I, not even the man I marry. You know why? Because Mr. Wonderful is just my friend. Actually, I have several Mr. Wonderfuls in my life.
Now I'm sitting here all by myself blogging on a Friday night, instead of being curled up with something tall and scrum..scrump...scrumpteou, scrumptiou, scrumptous (?, aww screw the spelling). Yep I am unabashedly single. Whenever anyone asks me why I'm single, I always say it's because I don't know any good men to date. However, that's just not true. I know a ton of great guys who are eligible bachelors. The irony is, they just aren't available to me. It's the equivalent of having a PHAT tax return burning a hole in your pocket while sitting in the middle of a showroom filled with 80% off Mahnolo Blahniks that are all about two sizes too small. Right style, wrong fit.
Somehow, I have managed to meet the perfect guy about 10 to 15 times in my life. Well let me clarify, I've met the perfect guy for a woman who is NOT me. I seem to be skilled at developing relationships with everyone else's soulmate but my own. I'm not complaining due to secretly harbored feelings for my male friends. Actually the idea of touching them in any romantic way feels just downright dirty and incestuous. Since I didn't descend from a European monarchy and I'm not from Appalachia I've never found incest to be acceptable.
After deeper thought, I'm not even upset over the fact that I can't find the right guy for myself. I'm more upset with my female friends for not having their own supplies of Mr. Wonderfuls. How hard is it for these chicks to befriend Jay-Z so that me and him can hook up. And if they can't befriend Jigga Man, then Chris Webber, Clinton Portis, or that cute white boy from Coach Carter should be a bit more attainable. I'm bringing an investment banker, a rapper, a mama's boy, a former high school football star, and much more to the table. What have they got? A bunch of vertically challenged broke ass niggas who are going through some shit right now. Ain't that about a bitch!!
I think God has a twisted sense of humor. I will readily admit that I am blessed to have each and every one of my Mr. Wonderfuls in my life. But putting the goods in front of me when I can't and don't want to buy is a sick cosmic joke. I ain't laughing.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

I miss junior high. It was so great. School dances, high school football games, cute boys, house parties, it was all great. You know what else was great about junior high school? Breaking up. True, at the time breaking up sucked, but looking back on it, break ups back then were easy! The break up rules were so easy to follow all those years ago. "Relationships" ended when one person stopped liking the other or when some egregious wrong was inflicted upon someone (i.e. dancing too close too another person at the last dance). Somewhere between then and now the rules changed. Sure, we still break up because somebody did us dirty or because we're just not feeling it anymore. But for some reason somewhere down the line we started breaking up even when no one has done anything really wrong and the feelings are just as strong as they've always been. Junior high never prepared me for this.
It's truly amazing how one day everything can be going so great that happy doesn't begin to describe it and then one day you wake up and that euphoria is a distant memory. Now I don't believe that any relationship can sustain the initial high indefinitely. After a while things settle into a comfortable rhythm in which both parties feel secure and content. But sometimes that high can gradually deflate like a balloon that's slowly loosing helium. It crashes to the ground in silence without that loud bang that lets you know that something is even missing. No matter how much you try to get that balloon to fly as high as it used to it just won't. It doesn't matter that you still want that balloon and never had any intention of letting it go. Also doesn't matter that you're still attached to that balloon completely. It just won't work.
Somewhere along the line I realized that certain relationships just don't work. There used to be a time when all two people needed was to just like each other a whole lot and that would be enough to keep them together. It's a really sad day when you realize that feelings alone won't resusicitate a dead union. Sometimes you can't love a person enough to make up for what it is they can't give you. The same conversation can only be had but so many times without anything changing.
Strange part of it all is that there isn't the fireworks that junior high breakups used to have as a weeklong courtship went down in a blaze of glory between 5th and 6th period. No yelling, no begging and pleading, no plots of revenge. Just a quiet resignation that it isn't working. I swear hating the ex is a whole lot easier than missing him like crazy and knowing there isn't a damn thing you can do about it.

Friday, November 11, 2005

The Sixth Sense

Elementary schools across the country have failed our children. Introductory science classes are acclimating youth to the physical world around them. One of the first lessons these kids are taught is about how humans sense the world around them. Every year kids file into classrooms and learn that there are five senses: sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell. However, what they forget to teach these young impressionable minds is that boys have a sixth sense that develops with age. It's the uncanny sense to know when the woman he is involved with is just about done with his trifling ass so he better act right.
I have no idea how men do this, but I'm starting to believe that it's innate. Without a woman saying a word, they just KNOW when we are A) about to dump them B) almost over them or C) about to get serious with someone else. Amazingly sometimes depending on which stage you are in with different men, two of them will activate this sixth sense at once.
So, earlier this summer I started seeing this guy who while very cute (in a dopey sort of way) and an amazing kisser decided to start going through some shit about a month and a half into our courtship. Yes, he was another broke ass nigga going through some shit right now. Anyways, about a month after I started seeing him, I met the Guy Who Shouldn't Make Me Cry. Now keep up with me, cause it starts to get complicated. So the weekend after I met the Guy Who Shouldn't Make Me Cry, I spent a few days with Dopey Taylor. Everything was going fine with him and we were all nice and boo'd up (well us and all 20 of his closest friends who wouldn't leave the apartment). I was talking to The Guy Who Shouldn't Make Me Cry but only on a just friends tip cause I was all about Dopey. Well a few weeks later Dopey starts going through some shit and whaddya know the Guy Who Shouldn't Make Me Cry is there to pick up the slack. Within a month, Dopey's fallen by the wayside and I'm snug as a bug in a rug with the Guy.
Over the next month or so as we're coming into fall, things with the Guy are progressing very nicely. He's doing everything he should be to not only get me interested, but to keep me interested as well. I'm feeling him, and feeling him hard. In all this time, Dopey is nowhere to be found, so I'm pretty focused on the Guy. Well, as we all know when dealing with the Y chromosome, good behavior only lasts but so long before stupidity sets in. All of the tactics and measures that were employed to get me, are no longer being employed to keep me, and needless to say I am quite disgruntled. Now in the name of fairness, I've told the Guy over and over again that things are fizzling and we need to fix it. I've also played the obligatory "Nigga You Betta Act Right" games, up to and including the silent treatment and starting unnecessary fights and considering the Fallback Boy. NOTHING is working. That is nothing except considering letting the whole thing go. Somehow, everytime I'm about to pick up that phone and say, "I changed my mind," he picks up the phone first and says and does everything I've been needing him to say and do for weeks. WTF!! It's hard enough to make the decision to let someone go that you still really care about. You've gotta check with at least 5 of your girlfriends to figure out what majority opinion is. Then you have to go over and over in your head all of the things he's done wrong and document when the last time he actually did something right was. Next, you must listen to every sad/angry love song you can get your hands on in order to see how much of the lyrics relate to your current situation. After that, countless hours need to be spent agonizing over whether it's really time to throw in the towel. You then put it into a mental and emotional computer formula which spits out a decision whether or not to stay or let that dude go. To go through all of that, just for him to get his act together at the last minute is unfair and completely inconsiderate on his part.
If the Guy weren't bad enough, Dopey Taylor all of a sudden remembers I exist. Why is that? Could it be because that stupid sixth sense told him that I might like someone else enough to completely forget about his broke dysfunctional ass? And of course he would know to make his move right when I'm trying to work through issues with the Guy Who Shouldn't Make Me Cry. This is by no means a coincidence. He knew where my head was and just couldn't pass up an opportunity to screw with my already messed up head. Manipulative bastard!
Maybe if this were the first time I'd gone through this I wouldn't be so annoyed. But it seems to be a pattern with the male species. Mr. Way Too Into Himself had this unnerving habit of popping back into my life whenever I was just about to write him off completely (this was after the Valentine's Day betrayal). There was also Mr. Only Good For One Thing. He was great at returning my calls just in time to keep from getting permanently deleted. But the one who mastered that sixth sense the most has to be The Idiot Who Made Me Cry. Now that nigga had radar like a mofo! Every single time I had just about purged him from my system a siren went off in that little brain of his and he was back like the freakin Terminator.
I don't enjoy operating at a disadvantage. It makes it a lot harder to win and sometimes I'll even take winning over being happy. The way I see it, it took me years to learn about this sixth sense that men have and leverage at every turn. And I had to do it the hard way, by painful experience. So in order to even out the playing field I say we add this sixth sense to elementary school science curriculums so that little girls everywhere will grow up to be women with a fighting chance against it. All in favor, say "Aye!"

Monday, November 07, 2005

You Need An Alignment

There are certain concepts in this world that aren't very difficult to understand. What comes up, must come down. A closed mouth don't get fed. $13.95 + tax is NOT too much to spend on lip glass. If you break it, you buy it. Simple right? That is unless you were born with that defective Y chromosome. It seems as though basic rules of human interaction float right over their heads without them ever noticing. One in particular really stumps them. They just can't seem to master the concept of actions speaking louder than words.
If you've ever been in a room full of women there are always one or two who seem to be involved with a guy who just doesn't want a relationship. You'll hear them complaining about how the man won't commit. Of course these women won't break up with the men who don't give them what they need. They stick around hoping the man will one day change his mind and decide to give a full fledged relationship a shot. I used to look at these women and think that they were dumber than rocks. Common sense would tell you that if a man repeatedly says, "I don't want a relationship," then that's exactly what he means. If these women were being strung along, it was their own faults. That was my opinion and I was sticking to it.
Then something interesting happened. I befriended some guys. Any woman who has been friends with the male species soon realizes that as a friend, men don't find any reason to censor themselves around us. As a result, we become privy to all their dirty little secrets. After befriending several Purple People Eaters, all of whom were involved but didn't want to be in a relationship, something dawned on me. Maybe it wasn't the women who were being stupid. Perhaps they were sticking around because although these men said one thing, their actions didn't match up.
Let me break it down for you. Dude says, "I don't want a relationship." Same dude spends majority of his free time with one lady. Same dude attends family, work, and social functions with said lady. Same dude does the holiday thing with the lady (and not just Veteran's Day, Christmas and Valentine's Day included). Same dude is sleeping with this lady damn near every night for almost a year. Now it might just be me, but this seems like relationship behavior. Excuse me Dude, you might not want to admit this, but you're ass is in a relationship. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a can fill in the rest. A man can't say he doesn't want a relationship, fill the boyfriend role, and then wonder why a woman is constantly saying, "we need to talk." If you don't want to be with the woman don't act like it! Let me show you what that looks like. Don't hang out more than once a week. Don't have her meeting your folks, and don't meet hers. Don't discuss having feelings for her. Don't do the holiday thing. Basically don't do jack! Because anything you do can and will be used against you in relationship court.
The only thing that irks me more than a man who says he doesn't want to be in a relationship with a woman who he's been relationing with for ages, is a man who won't let go of a woman he says he doesn't want to be with. It seems to me that if you don't want us, you should be happy to see us go. But for some reason it never works like that. It's not fun to have to get over someone who's just not that into you. So imagine doing all the hard work of exorcising some man from your system, only to have him pop back up the second he senses you might be getting over him. He never actually wants to be together, he just doesn't want you over him. Now this is just purely selfish bullshit. Listen guys, after the age of 5 playing the "I don't want it, but I'm not going to share it" game is unacceptable. You know maybe if you're having that hard a time letting her walk away, you just might want her a little more than you thought you did. MESSAGE!!!
Now this can also be turned around to apply to those guys who claim to want to be with a chick but should have the words "disappearing acts" spray painted across their forehead. If you don't call, don't spend time, and aren't there when she needs you, then don't bother telling her you like her and want to be with her. It just causes unnecessary confusion. And no it's NOT all in her head. Trust me when I say that women keep track of how much you call (and I don't mean call back, I mean call first), when you ask to see us, everything you do and don't do for us, and every little word you say. We tabulate it all up into a does he really like me chart! When the stuff that comes out of your mouth doesn't match up with things you do, the only calculation we get is a big fat ?
So do us and yourselves a really big favor. Say what you mean and mean what you say and then back that bitch up with whatever you do. This has been a PSA from women everywhere to you!

Fallback Boy

My mind is doing evil things to me right now. It's going places it shouldn't and thinking things it has no business thinking. Sentimentality is wreaking havoc. Happy memories are leading to wistfulness and nostalgia and this eerie feeling of missing The Idiot Who Made Me Cry.
Don't say it, I already know what you're gonna say, cause I'm saying it to myself. I'm supposed to be done with all of that. Hell, I read the 5 Simple Rules. In fact I wrote that bitch myself. And I know that there is to be no reminiscing, good or bad. But right now I can't help it. I'm annoyed. My state of annoyance has absolutely nothing to do with him. We haven't communicated or seen each other since September, so there has been no opportunity for him to do what he does best (i.e. piss me off). This time the responsible party is the Guy Who Shouldn't Make Me Cry. I'm now beginning to think that no such guy exists. Sooner or later they all make us cry (or at least want to cry).
It always amazes me how a fledgling relationship can go from promising to problematic in 0 seconds flat. The same guy that made you smile from ear to ear one day is the same one who makes you shed tears the next. So what's a girl to do when the one person who's supposed to make her happy isn't doing a very good job? Well of course, she thinks of the last person that made her really happy. The Fallback Boy, so to speak. The one you keep going back to literally and figuratively when your current love life more or less sucks. He smoothes out the rough spots. Need someone to have a crush on, never fear, Fallback Boy is here! Need someone to think about when the man you should be thinking about is being a certified dickhead, Fallback Boy to the rescue! Need someone to hook up with cause it’s been a really long time, Mighty Morphin’ Fallback Boy! I hate to say it, but for me, the last guy that made me so happy I could spit was the Idiot Who Made Me Cry, before he made me cry of course.
I’m not deranged enough to want to rekindle anything, well at least not at the moment. But I feel better thinking about The Idiot than I do thinking about everything that’s wrong with the current Guy. He’s like my favorite pair of jeans: used up and busted, yet comfortable. Even though he’s a mess, at least I know what I’m getting.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

License to Drive

The Midwest has been my "home" for the past three years, three months, three weeks, and five days. Let me tell you it's nothing like NY. Places close early, you can't catch a cab whenever you want, the radio stations suck, there's nothing to do, and there's no place to shop. But even worse than all that, worse than the fact that there are no men within a 500 mile radius, is the fact that these mofos can't drive to save their lives. It was bad in Minnesota, but it's even more horrendous in Michigan. I sincerely believe that anyone born in the Midwest is completely incapable of operating a motor vehicle.
I decided to test my theory and do a little unscientific research for the last few weeks. My observations shocked me. I knew it was bad, but this is ridiculous.
Exhibit A: When the light turned green at an intersection, it took the car in front of 45 seconds to realize that he was supposed to go. Only 3 cars in a long line of vehicles made it through the light.
Exhibit B: 10 out of every 5 drivers in this state go under the speed limit while driving in the left lane on highways. Big fat MACK truck drivers are the worst offenders. FYI Bubba, the 18 wheelers are supposed to stay in the right lane!
Exhibit 3: Midwestern drivers will wait behind one stalled vehicle instead of switching into the perfectly empty lane right next to them, thus holding up traffic for miles.
Exhibit X: Each and every one of these idiots out here slows down to under 5 MPH to make a simple right hand turn.
Exhibit 3: One drop of percipitation in any form will lead to traffic jams and 12 car pile ups.
Exhibit WTF: I saw someone who was NOT Amish driving a horse and buggy just last week
All of this evidence, witnessed with my own two eyes, has led me to the conclusion that in order to get your license out here one must show complete and total vehicular ineptitude. The ironic part is, you have to take driver's ed in order to get your license in the State of MI. What the hell are they teaching people? How to improperly operate a motor vehicle? Other states take driving very seriously and want to ensure that every licensed driver knows what they are doing behind the wheel. In NY most drivers have to take their road tests 6 times before they pass (well at least I did), in order to ensure they have the necessary skills.
The thing is, I would expect bad driving south of the Mason Dixon line and in the Great Plains states. But come on, this is freaking Michigan!! The auto capitol of America. Someone born in this state has got to realize that green means go! It's really sad when the driving in Atlanta, GA is better than the driving here. And I've been there so I've seen it myself. Folks in the ATL actually know how to get from Point A to Point B ASAP. That's surprising for a state where you can get married at 14 and first cousins aren't considered close relatives.
I'm going to leave Michigan drivers with a few words of advice. First, when the light turns green, that means drive through the intersection. Do not just sit there and marvel at how the pretty colors changed. Secondly, the speed limit is NOT really a limit. It's just the starting off point for how fast you can really go. Driving 35 MPH in a 45 zone is NOT acceptable. You can go 55 and it'll be okay. Additionally, learn to whip your vehicle. Right hand turns aren't that hard. Just ease off the gas and turn the wheel. It's simple. Lastly, stay the hell off the road when I'm driving!