Hello all,
So I have the most brilliant idea ever. There have been many of times when I have had people approach me with stories about things they have done or have witnessed or have had done to them. I enjoy hearing them so much that I am always like, "Please let me put that in a blog." I am practically begging on my knees to get them to let me because the stories are just so entertaining, but alas, sometimes they are too scandalous or personal for them (and sometimes myself) to feel comfortable with me posting them. But I still feel the itch to write them as my fingers hover over the keyboard when I go to write a post. So my dilemma is, how am I to do this without exploiting anyone?
Well, I took a little leaf out of one of my favorite books, The Help. If you haven't read this book/seen the movie, it is truly a wonderful read. Basically, these black women who work as the help in white folks' homes team up with an intelligent, aspiring writer to tell the stories about how their employers treat them and about things they have witnessed going on in the house. It goes from the good all the way to the terribly ugly. But the beauty of it is, they get to say what they have to say without anyone ever knowing for sure who it is about. One could speculate, one could tell out loud, but that would then mean the person had a conscious that it was about them.
Without further ado, I give you my newest segment: Anonymous. Hmm, maybe there is a better name for that... Suggestions? Leave a comment and let me know what you think. These stories will not have the names of the people involved. I will change the names of the people they are about.
Natalie and her boyfriend have decided to take the big leap and do the do. That's right, they were going to have sex for the first time. They were both younger and naive, not really knowing what to expect. After about 10 minutes, it was over and definitely not anything like the movies portrayed it to be.... (what happens moments later is for another time, it is quite hilarious).
Let's skip ahead about 4 weeks later. Natalie is mortified and making herself sick thinking she may in fact be pregnant. She confides in her boyfriend when she can no longer keep quiet about it and says, "We have to find out, I am freaking out thinking about it. I cannot go another day without figuring this out"
Natalie is too scared to go buy a test so she demands that her boyfriend do it. "It is your fault," she whined, "you have to go get the test." The boyfriend, feeling really bad and scared to death, retreats to the store to buy the fateful and potentially problematic pregnancy test.
The boyfriend returned with a very large plastic shopping bag. Natalie was quite puzzled. Weren't those little pee sticks, well, little? She stared at her boyfriend and asked in an incredulous tone, "how many did you buy exactly?"
"Well, I figured you'd want to be really sure," he said with a note of nervousness in his voice. He was as white as a sheet as he handed the bag to Natalie.
Taking the bag in her shaking hands, she closed her eyes and dumped out the bag and spread the ridiculous amount of small cardboard boxes over his old, tattered bedspread. She picked up one of the boxes to read the directions while her boyfriend turned progressively greener over on the opposite bed corner. The box was laying with the back and directions facing her. This looks complicated, Natalie thought as she flipped through the little booklet of directions.
"Geez, it's got like a calender and stuff in here that you have to count the days and take it on an estimated day. I thought you just peed on it and it showed up?" she looked at her boyfriend puzzled. There's all sorts of smiley faces and... estimated days to get pregnant," she said slowly.
Natalie laid the directions aside and flipped the box over. What she saw sent her into fits of laughter so hard she couldn't breathe.
"What is it?!" the boyfriend asked very confused.
"You didn't... buy pregnancy... tests," she said through gasps and tears rolling down her cheeks. "You spent 50 dollars on ovulation tests!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!" Natalie rolled over and laughed solidly into one of the pillows as the boyfriend just stared blankly at her.
"What is the difference?" He asked obviously not getting what was so hilarious.
"Babe, those help people when they are trying to get pregnant, not to find out if you are pregnant!" Natalie said wiping away tears and mascara streaks.
"You have to take these back!" Natalie said still giggling.
"Absolutely not! I am not going back in there," the boyfriend said like he would rather dive in a pool of razor blades than face going back in with a huge bag of ovulation tests.
"I have to pee, I'll be right back babe," Natalie said as she walked out of the room and into the bathroom.
As soon as she pulled down her pants, she knew she was definitely not pregnant. Perfect timing mother nature.
The ovulation tests sat in the boyfriend's closet for as long as the boyfriend lived in the house.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Monday, September 9, 2013
Jokes on Monday
Hello all,
I am feeling a little bit jokey today so I am going to tell you all a joke that Cassie and I used to laugh at all the time:
There were three couples going out on a triple date together. (Here we used to insert our own names or names of people we knew). They went out to a nice restaurant and sat together in a booth. The men were all trying to be sweet to their sweethearts and thought of clever flirty things to say. One turned to his girlfriend and said, "Pass me the sugar, sugar" with a sexy wink. The other boy, not wanting to be outshone on this group date said, "Pass me the honey, honey" and leaned over to kiss his girl on the cheek. The last man looked at his girlfriend, who was expecting to be called something sweeter than sugar or honey, and said, "Pass me the bacon, pig!"
I can barely type because I am laughing so hard at myself right now. These are the kinds of men I tend to be attracted to, the insensitive ones who don't get how to be sweet and charming. Or even worse, they think this sort of thing is sweet and charming. Whew! Good times, that one never gets old!
Happy Monday y'all, stay classy:)
I am feeling a little bit jokey today so I am going to tell you all a joke that Cassie and I used to laugh at all the time:
There were three couples going out on a triple date together. (Here we used to insert our own names or names of people we knew). They went out to a nice restaurant and sat together in a booth. The men were all trying to be sweet to their sweethearts and thought of clever flirty things to say. One turned to his girlfriend and said, "Pass me the sugar, sugar" with a sexy wink. The other boy, not wanting to be outshone on this group date said, "Pass me the honey, honey" and leaned over to kiss his girl on the cheek. The last man looked at his girlfriend, who was expecting to be called something sweeter than sugar or honey, and said, "Pass me the bacon, pig!"
I can barely type because I am laughing so hard at myself right now. These are the kinds of men I tend to be attracted to, the insensitive ones who don't get how to be sweet and charming. Or even worse, they think this sort of thing is sweet and charming. Whew! Good times, that one never gets old!
Happy Monday y'all, stay classy:)
Thursday, September 5, 2013
The Dirtaay 3's Go Shopping
Hello all,
Here we are back with another tale of the infamous Dirtaay 3's. This was actually when we were still just 2 D3s. Cassie and I had to go shopping after the freezer broke and turned into something a raccoon would have considered a feast. I had been grocery shopping before, obviously, but I normally had a list of things to get from my dad or mom. I figured we were smart and we could just wing it. When we got to the "ghetto Walmart," the Walmart just up on West Tennessee Street that always has lines back to electronics because they keep maybe half of a register open all day long to supply all us needy college students. I call it ghetto Walmart because there is always something funky going on with it and I always see the most fabulous people up there. And by fabulous I mean they need to be on What Not to Wear faster than Anna Kendrick can do the "Cups" song. I went up there one night around 2 in the morning to get something that I must not have been able to wait another 7 or 8 hours for and stood in line for the only register open for about 15 minutes. I was behind this black woman and man who couldn't have been much older than I am. The guy was being very flamboyant and animated about everything from magazine covers to what his female friend was buying. All of a sudden he looked down at the floor and squealed, "UGGHHH, EW Jasmine what is that!? Look at that creature on the ground!" He was pointing to a mole cricket that was lying lazily on the floor just doing whatever mole crickets do I guess. I am not sure how it got there, but I have learned not to question what you find/see in Walmart. A mole cricket is certainly not the weirdest thing I've seen. The guy was still talking about it trying to figure out what this "wild animal" was. I was trying not to laugh because it was very entertaining listening to him talk to his friend and the cashier about it. Finally, he seemed to have had a light click on over his head. "I know what it is," he exclaimed excitedly, pointing to the mole cricket. "It's a crawdad! Yep, I knew that's what it was. Look at that crawdad! I wonder how it got in here!? Damn animals in Walmart, what the hell?" I then actually laughed out loud very audibly. How on earth he figured that little bug was a crawdaddy is totally beyond me! If there was an actual crawdad in Walmart, that might just take things to a whole new level.
Anyways, Cassie and I were shopping in ghetto Walmart and I went in on an empty tummy. Probably not a very good idea because everything from powdered sugar to sweet gerkin pickles sounds as wonderful as a Ruth's Chris filet. At some point, I decided I wanted bacon. I wanted to make my favorite meal, breakfast for dinner, later on that night. I walked over to bacon section next to the deli meat and found myself beside this guy. He was actually rather handsome standing there minding his own business. I thought Cassie was somewhere near me and I was going to ask her what kind of bacon we should get. I was going to be cooking for her too since she can barely boil water without getting bored waiting for it. I pondered for a moment over all the different sorts of bacon. I never really realized there were so many until that moment. I said, "So, do you like it thin and crispy or thick and hearty?" thinking that Cassie was still right there. That's when I noticed the guy made some sort of distressed sound and took two steps further away from me and then walked away giving me an odd look. I turned to look over my shoulder, Cassie was no where to be seen! Oh shit, I thought, this dude probably thought I was making some sort of sexy insinuation through means of strips of bacon! I was so dumbfounded and embarrassed that I didn't even get the bacon. I had to get Cassie to go and pick it out. She refuses to let me live this story down, so might as well tell it to the world anyways.
Needless to say, my favorite kind of bacon is thick, center cut. No more need to consider each type aloud and potentially scare off other males in search of the best breakfast meat there is.
Here we are back with another tale of the infamous Dirtaay 3's. This was actually when we were still just 2 D3s. Cassie and I had to go shopping after the freezer broke and turned into something a raccoon would have considered a feast. I had been grocery shopping before, obviously, but I normally had a list of things to get from my dad or mom. I figured we were smart and we could just wing it. When we got to the "ghetto Walmart," the Walmart just up on West Tennessee Street that always has lines back to electronics because they keep maybe half of a register open all day long to supply all us needy college students. I call it ghetto Walmart because there is always something funky going on with it and I always see the most fabulous people up there. And by fabulous I mean they need to be on What Not to Wear faster than Anna Kendrick can do the "Cups" song. I went up there one night around 2 in the morning to get something that I must not have been able to wait another 7 or 8 hours for and stood in line for the only register open for about 15 minutes. I was behind this black woman and man who couldn't have been much older than I am. The guy was being very flamboyant and animated about everything from magazine covers to what his female friend was buying. All of a sudden he looked down at the floor and squealed, "UGGHHH, EW Jasmine what is that!? Look at that creature on the ground!" He was pointing to a mole cricket that was lying lazily on the floor just doing whatever mole crickets do I guess. I am not sure how it got there, but I have learned not to question what you find/see in Walmart. A mole cricket is certainly not the weirdest thing I've seen. The guy was still talking about it trying to figure out what this "wild animal" was. I was trying not to laugh because it was very entertaining listening to him talk to his friend and the cashier about it. Finally, he seemed to have had a light click on over his head. "I know what it is," he exclaimed excitedly, pointing to the mole cricket. "It's a crawdad! Yep, I knew that's what it was. Look at that crawdad! I wonder how it got in here!? Damn animals in Walmart, what the hell?" I then actually laughed out loud very audibly. How on earth he figured that little bug was a crawdaddy is totally beyond me! If there was an actual crawdad in Walmart, that might just take things to a whole new level.
Anyways, Cassie and I were shopping in ghetto Walmart and I went in on an empty tummy. Probably not a very good idea because everything from powdered sugar to sweet gerkin pickles sounds as wonderful as a Ruth's Chris filet. At some point, I decided I wanted bacon. I wanted to make my favorite meal, breakfast for dinner, later on that night. I walked over to bacon section next to the deli meat and found myself beside this guy. He was actually rather handsome standing there minding his own business. I thought Cassie was somewhere near me and I was going to ask her what kind of bacon we should get. I was going to be cooking for her too since she can barely boil water without getting bored waiting for it. I pondered for a moment over all the different sorts of bacon. I never really realized there were so many until that moment. I said, "So, do you like it thin and crispy or thick and hearty?" thinking that Cassie was still right there. That's when I noticed the guy made some sort of distressed sound and took two steps further away from me and then walked away giving me an odd look. I turned to look over my shoulder, Cassie was no where to be seen! Oh shit, I thought, this dude probably thought I was making some sort of sexy insinuation through means of strips of bacon! I was so dumbfounded and embarrassed that I didn't even get the bacon. I had to get Cassie to go and pick it out. She refuses to let me live this story down, so might as well tell it to the world anyways.
Needless to say, my favorite kind of bacon is thick, center cut. No more need to consider each type aloud and potentially scare off other males in search of the best breakfast meat there is.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
The Joker
Hello once again,
As most of you know, the majority of my posts have been about embarrassing myself. When I say embarrassing, what the event is to me and what it is to someone on the outside looking in are two totally different things. I grew up with my mother as my mom, meaning I do not get embarrassed easily. She made me immune to all that when I was younger. Nothing really gets to me to where I am ashamed of myself. I say embarrassed because this is an emotion understood by others.
In this blog post, however, I would like to talk about other people doing stupid things that I have witnessed over the past few years.
If anyone knows me, they know that I really love baseball. I may not understand all the ins and outs of it or what each of the numbers on the scoreboard mean, but I really love to watch baseball games. My friend Alexis Washington shares my love of the great American pastime so we frequently watch games together. Typically, this involves me driving out to Gainesville to watch the Gators play. I know, I know, I sound like a traitor. I go to FSU but I still watch the Gators? Yes, yes I do. I had a boyfriend my senior year who loved to go to the Gator games and frequently took me with him. In fact, our first "real" date was a Gator baseball game. So, naturally, I came to enjoy watching these fine men play the all American sport. When I say fine, I mean it literally.
Each year, I go to at least a few games with Alexis. We were at one about two years ago when what I am about to tell you about happened. As we sat on the bleachers, watching Austin Maddox take his place inside the batter's box, we noticed a bit of a commotion. Down the stairs, there was a rather large woman with wild, unruly hair. She looked pretty normal, aside from the hair. In a matter of seconds, I was proved horribly wrong. This woman proceeded to pull her pants up and run up and down the stairs at full speed screaming, "Show me your genitals, your genitals," in almost cheerleader fashion while pumping her fists in the air. She did this a few times. Alexis and I just looked at each other and died laughing. Everyone in the crowd looked shocked. Who does that?!
This one goes out to Cassie. We were at my Nanny's house celebrating Cassie's birthday. She had just started dating this boy named Ryan literally two weeks before, so they were still in the awkward stage where they were both trying to be awesome. Not that she isn't already awesome :). Anyways, I bought her exactly what she wanted, a child movie called Monster House. Weirdo. We sat out on my "back porch" and watched it with our boyfriends. When the night ended, I walked both of them out of the house so I could lock my door. Funny how our nights went from ending at 9 pm to not ending at all. We have a pool that is dangerously close to our door. Cassie was walking around the edge of the pool when she took the corner just a little too sharp and walked right into the pool! Somehow, half of her body went into the freezing water while the other half stayed up on the concrete. She was straddling the ledge with one leg still dry and the remainder of her body completely soaked. She looked kind of like Spider-Man post up on a building. Poor thing! Ryan helped her up but I could tell she was embarrassed and probably hurting. Mind you, her birthday is in November so the water was like ice. She had to ride home in Ryan's car drenched. I guess that is one way to break through the awkward phase of a relationship.
Just this week, Destiny texted me to tell me that she had really done it. She was leaving her place of employment to go home for the evening. While on the way out, she spotted an attractive fella in an elevator. She tried to stop the elevator in an attempt to stare at him. She put her arm in the way of the door, but it was too late. The sensor did not catch her and the elevator door shut on her arm! At that point the doors opened and she proceeded to squeeze her way into the cramped elevator. She said she was dying of embarrassment and that her arm really hurt. Oh, the things we women will do to stand next to a handsome fella.
If you can't tell already, I am posting this way way later on than when I started writing it, but I found it today and thought I should proceed in posting it.
As most of you know, the majority of my posts have been about embarrassing myself. When I say embarrassing, what the event is to me and what it is to someone on the outside looking in are two totally different things. I grew up with my mother as my mom, meaning I do not get embarrassed easily. She made me immune to all that when I was younger. Nothing really gets to me to where I am ashamed of myself. I say embarrassed because this is an emotion understood by others.
In this blog post, however, I would like to talk about other people doing stupid things that I have witnessed over the past few years.
If anyone knows me, they know that I really love baseball. I may not understand all the ins and outs of it or what each of the numbers on the scoreboard mean, but I really love to watch baseball games. My friend Alexis Washington shares my love of the great American pastime so we frequently watch games together. Typically, this involves me driving out to Gainesville to watch the Gators play. I know, I know, I sound like a traitor. I go to FSU but I still watch the Gators? Yes, yes I do. I had a boyfriend my senior year who loved to go to the Gator games and frequently took me with him. In fact, our first "real" date was a Gator baseball game. So, naturally, I came to enjoy watching these fine men play the all American sport. When I say fine, I mean it literally.
Each year, I go to at least a few games with Alexis. We were at one about two years ago when what I am about to tell you about happened. As we sat on the bleachers, watching Austin Maddox take his place inside the batter's box, we noticed a bit of a commotion. Down the stairs, there was a rather large woman with wild, unruly hair. She looked pretty normal, aside from the hair. In a matter of seconds, I was proved horribly wrong. This woman proceeded to pull her pants up and run up and down the stairs at full speed screaming, "Show me your genitals, your genitals," in almost cheerleader fashion while pumping her fists in the air. She did this a few times. Alexis and I just looked at each other and died laughing. Everyone in the crowd looked shocked. Who does that?!
This one goes out to Cassie. We were at my Nanny's house celebrating Cassie's birthday. She had just started dating this boy named Ryan literally two weeks before, so they were still in the awkward stage where they were both trying to be awesome. Not that she isn't already awesome :). Anyways, I bought her exactly what she wanted, a child movie called Monster House. Weirdo. We sat out on my "back porch" and watched it with our boyfriends. When the night ended, I walked both of them out of the house so I could lock my door. Funny how our nights went from ending at 9 pm to not ending at all. We have a pool that is dangerously close to our door. Cassie was walking around the edge of the pool when she took the corner just a little too sharp and walked right into the pool! Somehow, half of her body went into the freezing water while the other half stayed up on the concrete. She was straddling the ledge with one leg still dry and the remainder of her body completely soaked. She looked kind of like Spider-Man post up on a building. Poor thing! Ryan helped her up but I could tell she was embarrassed and probably hurting. Mind you, her birthday is in November so the water was like ice. She had to ride home in Ryan's car drenched. I guess that is one way to break through the awkward phase of a relationship.
Just this week, Destiny texted me to tell me that she had really done it. She was leaving her place of employment to go home for the evening. While on the way out, she spotted an attractive fella in an elevator. She tried to stop the elevator in an attempt to stare at him. She put her arm in the way of the door, but it was too late. The sensor did not catch her and the elevator door shut on her arm! At that point the doors opened and she proceeded to squeeze her way into the cramped elevator. She said she was dying of embarrassment and that her arm really hurt. Oh, the things we women will do to stand next to a handsome fella.
If you can't tell already, I am posting this way way later on than when I started writing it, but I found it today and thought I should proceed in posting it.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
That's Why we Stopped Being Good Girls
Hello everyone on my least favorite day of the week,
Okay so this isn't really a long story post like I would normally post, but I came across this video today and I am just so in love with it.
First before I even get to the part where I show this video, I would like to make it known, that I love love love men! They are seriously the good Lord's gift to women everywhere. Even some of my lesbian friends can appreciate a good man from time to time, that is how awesome men are.
No matter how sexy, chiseled, sensitive, funny, intelligent, wonderful, out and out HAWT men are, I do have an issue with the men in our world. It is as though they always expect us gals to be dressed to the nines, hair perfect, make-up on like we just left Sephora, as perfect a 10 could be while they don't understand how them wearing something that says "I just left the gym... two days ago" would bother us. What happened to that Tim Mcgraw song where he was getting all dressed up to pick her up and openin' up windows, sweeping floors, and cleaning his truck just to pick her up to watch tv? When has the dress code and all around how we look/behave in front of our partners become a double standard? If we have to have faces like a super model and bodies built just like a coke bottle and have to give them what they want their way like we are a Burger King, why don't they?
My friend Destiny sent me a picture a long time ago of something on Twitter that I found very very amusing. It says:
"Why the hell do guys expect so much from us like they want us to have a flat stomach, big ass, big boobs, pretty face, and a perfect personality while some of these guys look like fucking apes bye."
I seriously could not have put it better myself. Guys have ridiculous expectations of women. They want us to be gorgeous all the time but natural. Their version of natural is what takes me 30 minutes to get into. Like come on man, my lips are not naturally tempting red and my hair does not smell like salon after sleeping for 9 hours. Don't even get me started on the intimate stuff. They want you to be stripped down, spread eagle on the bed before they even walk through the door. Come on y'all, haven't you heard the 3 date (at least) rule?! I don't think they appreciate the effort. Or the whole "Well, I took you on a date so.." SO!? Does a mildly inexpensive dinner at a chain steak house mean you are now entitled to the password to the mysterious speakeasy under our dresses? NO!
So, this video is a parody to Robin Thicke's song "Blurred Lines." Apparently the original Blurred Lines video is raunchy and sexist. I just watched it, and read the lyrics and although it is an enjoyable song in a catchy sort of way it is, well, sexist. It basically says "we men don't need to have any ties to you or owe you anything to get what we want out of you." It also insinuates that that is what women really want anyways but we are "good girls" and pretend otherwise. So?! Of course we all want to have an Anastasia Steel and Christian Grey thing, maybe even right from the moment you walk through the door. But how would a guy see a girl who let's him pass go and head straight to her vagina jail like a game of Monopoly? Yep, checkmate darlin', you won't be getting those Valentine's day flowers this year for sure. You are now his hit it and quit it and hit it again when he feels like it because you let him.
Side note- When a guy suggests hanging out with me, it is supposed to mean actually hanging out. Sometimes their version of hanging out and mine are totally different. I don't mean come over and expect me to step out of the outfit I just carefully organized so we can "hang out" your way with your wang out. I can't stand that! Just a little something else I got from this video.
I say kudos to you Auckland law students. Your video gave me quite a good laugh about a double standard my friends and I ponder on often. If we have to jump through hoops to be perfect, why don't they?
Before I end this, I want to say I know that all guys aren't like this. And it is okay for a man to expect his woman to be the sexy siren he started dating most of the time, but we want you to be the fine hunk of man we met that first day too.
Stay classy my friends, it's the new black.
Here's the link!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tC1XtnLRLPM
Okay so this isn't really a long story post like I would normally post, but I came across this video today and I am just so in love with it.
First before I even get to the part where I show this video, I would like to make it known, that I love love love men! They are seriously the good Lord's gift to women everywhere. Even some of my lesbian friends can appreciate a good man from time to time, that is how awesome men are.
No matter how sexy, chiseled, sensitive, funny, intelligent, wonderful, out and out HAWT men are, I do have an issue with the men in our world. It is as though they always expect us gals to be dressed to the nines, hair perfect, make-up on like we just left Sephora, as perfect a 10 could be while they don't understand how them wearing something that says "I just left the gym... two days ago" would bother us. What happened to that Tim Mcgraw song where he was getting all dressed up to pick her up and openin' up windows, sweeping floors, and cleaning his truck just to pick her up to watch tv? When has the dress code and all around how we look/behave in front of our partners become a double standard? If we have to have faces like a super model and bodies built just like a coke bottle and have to give them what they want their way like we are a Burger King, why don't they?
My friend Destiny sent me a picture a long time ago of something on Twitter that I found very very amusing. It says:
"Why the hell do guys expect so much from us like they want us to have a flat stomach, big ass, big boobs, pretty face, and a perfect personality while some of these guys look like fucking apes bye."
I seriously could not have put it better myself. Guys have ridiculous expectations of women. They want us to be gorgeous all the time but natural. Their version of natural is what takes me 30 minutes to get into. Like come on man, my lips are not naturally tempting red and my hair does not smell like salon after sleeping for 9 hours. Don't even get me started on the intimate stuff. They want you to be stripped down, spread eagle on the bed before they even walk through the door. Come on y'all, haven't you heard the 3 date (at least) rule?! I don't think they appreciate the effort. Or the whole "Well, I took you on a date so.." SO!? Does a mildly inexpensive dinner at a chain steak house mean you are now entitled to the password to the mysterious speakeasy under our dresses? NO!
So, this video is a parody to Robin Thicke's song "Blurred Lines." Apparently the original Blurred Lines video is raunchy and sexist. I just watched it, and read the lyrics and although it is an enjoyable song in a catchy sort of way it is, well, sexist. It basically says "we men don't need to have any ties to you or owe you anything to get what we want out of you." It also insinuates that that is what women really want anyways but we are "good girls" and pretend otherwise. So?! Of course we all want to have an Anastasia Steel and Christian Grey thing, maybe even right from the moment you walk through the door. But how would a guy see a girl who let's him pass go and head straight to her vagina jail like a game of Monopoly? Yep, checkmate darlin', you won't be getting those Valentine's day flowers this year for sure. You are now his hit it and quit it and hit it again when he feels like it because you let him.
Side note- When a guy suggests hanging out with me, it is supposed to mean actually hanging out. Sometimes their version of hanging out and mine are totally different. I don't mean come over and expect me to step out of the outfit I just carefully organized so we can "hang out" your way with your wang out. I can't stand that! Just a little something else I got from this video.
I say kudos to you Auckland law students. Your video gave me quite a good laugh about a double standard my friends and I ponder on often. If we have to jump through hoops to be perfect, why don't they?
Before I end this, I want to say I know that all guys aren't like this. And it is okay for a man to expect his woman to be the sexy siren he started dating most of the time, but we want you to be the fine hunk of man we met that first day too.
Stay classy my friends, it's the new black.
Here's the link!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tC1XtnLRLPM
Sunday, September 1, 2013
The Teller and Upside Down Cards
Hello all,
This dark house that I don't know very well and the fact that everyone has gone to bed has me a bit jumpy. I am a scary movie buff and these back windows kind of remind me of the scariest movie I have ever seen "The Strangers." Seriously, if you haven't seen it, I probably wouldn't watch it at night or maybe not at all if you plan on sleeping the next few weeks. My brother Tyler, aka Mr. Badass nothing-scares-me, wouldn't stay in my mom's living room for months past a certain time because the windows out by the pool are very similar to the ones in the movie that the creepy-make-you-pee-your-pants people with the horrifying masks would stare at the innocent honeymooners through. Yeah, I am now currently moving further away from the big windows that look out on the now eery looking garden that looks so enchanted beneath the sunlight.
Just recently, I saw "The Conjuring" which is by far the best horror flick I have seen since "The Strangers." My body hurt so bad from staying so seized up and tight while watching it because it was that chilling. It is like you didn't get the typical break between scary scenes like other movies. I have never been so cold or had chills for an entire movie like I did for this one. This movie sort of got me thinking about the spirit world. I like to indulge in this curiosity every once in a while about this subject every once in a while. I constantly look up the meanings of strange dreams that I have. It could be because Sarah has tried to convince me to do one of those spirit board things with her, or that the movie just had profound effects on me. But while I was in Key West, I had the perfect opportunity to give into my ever curious mind about the supernatural world and its maybe/maybe not existence.
Every night in Key West at a place called Mallory Square, the locals and tourists celebrate the end of the day with something called the Sunset Festival. I've never seen such a sunset quite as grand and blazing as the one here. The way it reflects its golden rays off the water makes it shine like diamonds of a higher quality than Cartier. It is truly something to behold at least once in your life. If you live in Florida, you really have no excuse to not visit Key West. Is it a tourist trap? Duh! But it is an adventure worth going on down there. That blog post is coming soon, I promise. My feeble memory is hurting lately, and I am having to write down all of my ideas instead of them just coming to me later.
So how do scary movies and superstitions intertwine with my Southernmost Point vacation? At this sunset festival, there are a lot of street performers. Most of them look like they sleep in a box every night, but that is okay, they are still very entertaining and funny. People will do some crazy things for a dollar. Some man climbed up on a twelve foot tall unicycle and juggled flaming bats. I give this lot of misfits props, they are doing something about not having a "job- job" to still earn money for themselves.
Out of all the misfit performers, someone stood out to me. In the middle of the square, there sat a man underneath the shade of a large black umbrella. He stood out because in a sea of tattered t-shirts and old fedoras and bowlers, this man had on a crisp white collared shirt and of all things, a Burberry tie. He looked as though he belonged in a business office rather than on performers' row. He sat at a table draped in a velvety red covering, and atop that red covering sat a crystal ball. This man was a fortune teller and he was looking at me as though he had been waiting for me all day.
Now, I do not actually really believe that there is an order of elite folks who can tell you what is going to happen tomorrow. I don't really know what I believe about stuff like this, but I don't think all of it is a load of bull. Was this man in the Burberry tie a chosen elite who could shed light on my future by pulling back the celestial curtains? Probably not. But there was something compelling in the way his eyes, as if they were beckoning me to sit with him for a while. So I did.
I plopped down in his chair, happy to take refuge from the sun underneath the shadow his umbrella cast on me. He started shuffling a deck of cards and asked me what I wanted to do today. Palmistry? Nah. Crystal ball? Nope. He already seemed to know the answer, as he was handing me the deck of cards instead of continuing down the list of other services he offered. In fact, that was the first thing he touched when I approached the table. Hmm....
I told him I had never had a card reading before and he explained that I simply had to shuffle the deck until I felt content, cut the deck into a few separate piles of any size, and take a card from each of the piles (I think it was directly from the top)pick up the decks from right to left and hand all the cards back to him. I shuffled the deck for what felt like forever. I was secretly hoping to ditch a shitty fortune in the midst of the cards, like if I shuffled them enough, the misfortune would somehow evade my hand. After a few rounds I felt like I had probably shuffled enough and the fates were probably getting tired of me taking more than my time. Cutting the cards into separate piles was another thing. I didn't know if I should do them all of equal piles or if I should do random sizes or line them up from biggest to smallest. There is a lot of pressure on a girl when she is trying to hear what her future may hold! Finally, I was satisfied with my piles and the arrangement of them and laid them out on the table to pick up in the strategic right to left fashion.
My fortune teller began to do some crazy slide of hand movements with the piles of cards, moving them all around in front of my eyes. I couldn't really keep up with it, but soon he was flipping cards with people face up in front of me every which way. Some were facing me, some were backwards, some were sideways. I saw a beautiful woman who was cloaked in white and seemed to be glowing and radiant in her chair with vines growing all around her, I saw a woman wrapped in something that made her look bound like a mummy with the bands around her eyes with many swords stabbed in the ground surrounding her, there was a man working on something with a line of eight stars in circles facing me, a man in a chair with a set of scales looking thing was flipped upside down from my view, there was a handsome man riding a white stallion brandishing a long sword that was also turned upside down, a heart with three swords stabbed into it was upside down, a queenly looking woman called the High Priestess, another looking queenly woman doting a sword of her own while kicked back in a beautiful throne (this was my kind of card I thought), a hand holding a sword that was poked through a crown, and lastly a man in a short dress looking thing with a long staff.
My fortune teller proceeded to explain to me that I had: The Eight of Swords, The High Priestess, The Three of Swords, The Empress, The Eight of Pentacles, The Queen of Swords, The Ace of Swords, Justice, The Knight of Swords, and the Page of Wands.
He said, let's start with the near past. He motioned to the girl who was bound and surrounded by swords. I am totally about to cheat because I can't remember word for word what this guy said about this card. When in doubt, Google it. This is what Google had to say about The Eight of Swords:
This card usually indicates a time of powerlessness and restriction, and more often than not this restriction is self-imposed. You may be holding yourself back because you fear moving into the future, or because you are wary of getting hurt by a new situation, or maybe for no reason at all. In rare instances you will find that another person's action - or inaction - is what keeps you from moving forward, but most of the time the blame falls on you alone. You cannot be held back unless part of you wants to be held back. The trick is finding a way to overcome that, and free yourself from the bonds of fear and doubt.
Basically he was saying that in my not too far past I had felt trapped by something or that I was holding myself back from something for fear of the unknown. Well, he was right. But I am always fearful of the future and afraid to step off the road of the past that is somehow clearer once you have already walked it into the dim visibility of the unknown future. I am thinking it may have had something to do with the fact that after I broke up with my ex, I kind of pulled back from the world of dating and boyfriends. Trapped by myself I suppose. At least I am cool to be trapped with.
The next card was The High Priestess. She is the "Inner Voice" and is a direct link to the unconscious mind. He basically told me I was very intuitive to the world around me, especially people. He said that I can relate to people on a level that is unparalleled to the way others relate to each other. Nailed it!
My heart dropped a little as he hesitated from touching the heart with the three swords stabbed deeply through its chambers. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson on the scene to figure out this one meant some sort of heart break. He was still on my past so I was thinking he was probably going to talk about me and my ex. But that didn't really make sense to me because that break up didn't really break my heart. I knew it was coming and I was over it by the next day. To my surprise, he said that I had actually felt some heart ache around the "dawn of the new year." Meaning I had experienced pain of the heart around January. I have to say, it wasn't heart ache, just dull disappointment. But nevertheless, he was still right. My heart was sad for a fool who hadn't changed the slightest in more than the insignificant sense of love. There was no love there, not even a like, but I had hoped just for a moment that everything had changed.
We moved into the here and now with The Eight of Pentacles, the little man working on something was next. He told me that I had been working hard on something lately and that if I was to continue to put forth a doubled effort, it was going to make me very successful and happy. Hmm... wonder what that could be? I think I have an idea of what it could be. We shall see I suppose.
My fortune teller wanted to proceed into the very near future with The Empress. He explained to me that this beautiful woman was the face of creation and grace in everything she made. The Empress, he said, sees and takes significant joy in everything that she makes. My mind went immediately to my blog. This is my baby and I have never made something that I enjoy more. He said the love The Empress embodies is both her greatest strength and her most daunting weakness, being as though even though she loves so much, sometimes that love is not reciprocated with the same magnitude.
Then something happened that I hadn't expected. His ears turned a little pink and his cheeks went flush as he told me The Empress represented something else. His eyes flashed from mine to my mother's who was standing behind hanging onto every word probably more so than I was. Mr. Crystal ball said that The Empress represents fertility and the chance of having a baby. "Since The Empress came to us in this position, I would say it is very likely that you will become pregnant in the fall of this year. If you do not wish to become a mother right now, I would recommend extreme caution because she is very willful in this for you this year." WHAT IN THE HELL!? I felt my mouth fall open and I just couldn't even speak. I felt my neck getting hot and I am pretty sure the setting sun had nothing to do with the sweat that began to bead on my skin. WHAT?! The only thing I could do was think, "Absolutely not having sex with anyone. I am so glad I don't have a boyfriend. I cannot take a baby in the Baby Bjorn to Physics in the spring. Might as well wrap my lower half in crime scene tape because there is nobody going between the space where my jeans meet my skin. Nope, no babies. Absolutely freaking not. Kinley is enough baby for me right now, and she is one that I can give back to her Momma when I can't please her with Doggies (aka 101 Dalmatians) and chocolate milk.
I was too stunned to pay too much attention to the Queen of Swords and the Ace of Swords because I was just thinking of how I needed to padlock myself in a tower and guard myself with a dragon to insure a little prince or princess didn't happen to me. Then he got to Justice. Justice, he explained, often dealt with things of legal means. The scales represent the balance between fair and unfair. He cautioned me that the position of this card meant that something very unjust was going to happen to me around coming up March-May. Perfect, that's just what I need is for my life to turn into an episode of Judge Judy.
The handsome faced man on his noble steed was the Knight of Swords. Surely, this was good news. Surely it was saying some beautiful man was going to come riding into my life and whisk me away to live out our fairytale. Surely, something in these cards would show my love life turning around. How very wrong I was. My fashionable fortune teller proceeded to tell me with a heavy sigh that the placement of this card represented a man fleeing from my life quickly. He said not to fear death more so than a love interest leaving and disappearing suddenly. Great.
The last, the Page of Wands was my last hope for some sort of happiness out of being pregnant, defeated legally and being lonely. He said with sweet splendor that the Page of Wands is to represent passion for something and childlike wonder and interest in something, and also total fearlessness in whatever I am currently pursuing or will pursue. He said it could come in the form of something that sparks my interest and that the Page will lend me his creative notion to make whatever it is grand. Once this Page enters, your life will never be the same. He said it could be in the form of a person who is so carefree and wonderful who could come into my life. I thought inwardly that it probably won't be a man since I just saw him galloping away with my broken heart and crushed dreams. This person brings you a childlike happiness that is hard to keep contained. Perhaps it is my sweet little niece who brings me so much joy and happiness just to be around her who is the Page of Wands in my life. Or maybe it is a man, who is creative and ambitious and fun and looks at the world in awe. Just the thing I am looking for in a man.
How interesting it was listen to a man in a nice tie tell me what my future is to hold and the options that each card brings. Even in my moment of despair as I thought, "Cool, I will be pregnant, I'll have to go to court over custody/ child support and lose in an unjust fashion, and then this man is going to runaway and leave us high and dry all alone. Perfect, might as well just jump from the harness when I go parasailing tomorrow since this future is looking oh so enjoyable" I thought how cool to "know." It is neat to hear that things could go one way or another just depending on how I "saw things." I don't know if y'all have noticed, but I am very indecisive and unpredictable. Even though this might be a bunch of bologna, even though this could just be a man who pulled me in with his fancy card tricks, it was nice to "see" into the crystal ball and have half an idea of what could possibly happen. Cross your fingers that there is no baby or fleeing man or legal issue that favors the other person in an unjust fashion. But even still, the possibilities are amazing, and the chance of knowing what is to come is just thrilling.
I think the whole art of this fortune telling thing is to give people options. They say it could be this, but it could also be this if you aren't happy with the answer I have given you. I think the whole point is to say, you have a choice in this life, in this future. The message, I think, is to choose wisely if you are presented with the choice. So I am not wanting to create a baby, even though The Empress means fertility and creation, I have the option to look at this as maybe my creation will be my blog and its many posts, or maybe something in writing other than a blog. Who knows? The only way to know for sure is to just live and let it happen.
This dark house that I don't know very well and the fact that everyone has gone to bed has me a bit jumpy. I am a scary movie buff and these back windows kind of remind me of the scariest movie I have ever seen "The Strangers." Seriously, if you haven't seen it, I probably wouldn't watch it at night or maybe not at all if you plan on sleeping the next few weeks. My brother Tyler, aka Mr. Badass nothing-scares-me, wouldn't stay in my mom's living room for months past a certain time because the windows out by the pool are very similar to the ones in the movie that the creepy-make-you-pee-your-pants people with the horrifying masks would stare at the innocent honeymooners through. Yeah, I am now currently moving further away from the big windows that look out on the now eery looking garden that looks so enchanted beneath the sunlight.
Just recently, I saw "The Conjuring" which is by far the best horror flick I have seen since "The Strangers." My body hurt so bad from staying so seized up and tight while watching it because it was that chilling. It is like you didn't get the typical break between scary scenes like other movies. I have never been so cold or had chills for an entire movie like I did for this one. This movie sort of got me thinking about the spirit world. I like to indulge in this curiosity every once in a while about this subject every once in a while. I constantly look up the meanings of strange dreams that I have. It could be because Sarah has tried to convince me to do one of those spirit board things with her, or that the movie just had profound effects on me. But while I was in Key West, I had the perfect opportunity to give into my ever curious mind about the supernatural world and its maybe/maybe not existence.
Every night in Key West at a place called Mallory Square, the locals and tourists celebrate the end of the day with something called the Sunset Festival. I've never seen such a sunset quite as grand and blazing as the one here. The way it reflects its golden rays off the water makes it shine like diamonds of a higher quality than Cartier. It is truly something to behold at least once in your life. If you live in Florida, you really have no excuse to not visit Key West. Is it a tourist trap? Duh! But it is an adventure worth going on down there. That blog post is coming soon, I promise. My feeble memory is hurting lately, and I am having to write down all of my ideas instead of them just coming to me later.
So how do scary movies and superstitions intertwine with my Southernmost Point vacation? At this sunset festival, there are a lot of street performers. Most of them look like they sleep in a box every night, but that is okay, they are still very entertaining and funny. People will do some crazy things for a dollar. Some man climbed up on a twelve foot tall unicycle and juggled flaming bats. I give this lot of misfits props, they are doing something about not having a "job- job" to still earn money for themselves.
Out of all the misfit performers, someone stood out to me. In the middle of the square, there sat a man underneath the shade of a large black umbrella. He stood out because in a sea of tattered t-shirts and old fedoras and bowlers, this man had on a crisp white collared shirt and of all things, a Burberry tie. He looked as though he belonged in a business office rather than on performers' row. He sat at a table draped in a velvety red covering, and atop that red covering sat a crystal ball. This man was a fortune teller and he was looking at me as though he had been waiting for me all day.
Now, I do not actually really believe that there is an order of elite folks who can tell you what is going to happen tomorrow. I don't really know what I believe about stuff like this, but I don't think all of it is a load of bull. Was this man in the Burberry tie a chosen elite who could shed light on my future by pulling back the celestial curtains? Probably not. But there was something compelling in the way his eyes, as if they were beckoning me to sit with him for a while. So I did.
I plopped down in his chair, happy to take refuge from the sun underneath the shadow his umbrella cast on me. He started shuffling a deck of cards and asked me what I wanted to do today. Palmistry? Nah. Crystal ball? Nope. He already seemed to know the answer, as he was handing me the deck of cards instead of continuing down the list of other services he offered. In fact, that was the first thing he touched when I approached the table. Hmm....
I told him I had never had a card reading before and he explained that I simply had to shuffle the deck until I felt content, cut the deck into a few separate piles of any size, and take a card from each of the piles (I think it was directly from the top)pick up the decks from right to left and hand all the cards back to him. I shuffled the deck for what felt like forever. I was secretly hoping to ditch a shitty fortune in the midst of the cards, like if I shuffled them enough, the misfortune would somehow evade my hand. After a few rounds I felt like I had probably shuffled enough and the fates were probably getting tired of me taking more than my time. Cutting the cards into separate piles was another thing. I didn't know if I should do them all of equal piles or if I should do random sizes or line them up from biggest to smallest. There is a lot of pressure on a girl when she is trying to hear what her future may hold! Finally, I was satisfied with my piles and the arrangement of them and laid them out on the table to pick up in the strategic right to left fashion.
My fortune teller began to do some crazy slide of hand movements with the piles of cards, moving them all around in front of my eyes. I couldn't really keep up with it, but soon he was flipping cards with people face up in front of me every which way. Some were facing me, some were backwards, some were sideways. I saw a beautiful woman who was cloaked in white and seemed to be glowing and radiant in her chair with vines growing all around her, I saw a woman wrapped in something that made her look bound like a mummy with the bands around her eyes with many swords stabbed in the ground surrounding her, there was a man working on something with a line of eight stars in circles facing me, a man in a chair with a set of scales looking thing was flipped upside down from my view, there was a handsome man riding a white stallion brandishing a long sword that was also turned upside down, a heart with three swords stabbed into it was upside down, a queenly looking woman called the High Priestess, another looking queenly woman doting a sword of her own while kicked back in a beautiful throne (this was my kind of card I thought), a hand holding a sword that was poked through a crown, and lastly a man in a short dress looking thing with a long staff.
My fortune teller proceeded to explain to me that I had: The Eight of Swords, The High Priestess, The Three of Swords, The Empress, The Eight of Pentacles, The Queen of Swords, The Ace of Swords, Justice, The Knight of Swords, and the Page of Wands.
He said, let's start with the near past. He motioned to the girl who was bound and surrounded by swords. I am totally about to cheat because I can't remember word for word what this guy said about this card. When in doubt, Google it. This is what Google had to say about The Eight of Swords:
This card usually indicates a time of powerlessness and restriction, and more often than not this restriction is self-imposed. You may be holding yourself back because you fear moving into the future, or because you are wary of getting hurt by a new situation, or maybe for no reason at all. In rare instances you will find that another person's action - or inaction - is what keeps you from moving forward, but most of the time the blame falls on you alone. You cannot be held back unless part of you wants to be held back. The trick is finding a way to overcome that, and free yourself from the bonds of fear and doubt.
Basically he was saying that in my not too far past I had felt trapped by something or that I was holding myself back from something for fear of the unknown. Well, he was right. But I am always fearful of the future and afraid to step off the road of the past that is somehow clearer once you have already walked it into the dim visibility of the unknown future. I am thinking it may have had something to do with the fact that after I broke up with my ex, I kind of pulled back from the world of dating and boyfriends. Trapped by myself I suppose. At least I am cool to be trapped with.
The next card was The High Priestess. She is the "Inner Voice" and is a direct link to the unconscious mind. He basically told me I was very intuitive to the world around me, especially people. He said that I can relate to people on a level that is unparalleled to the way others relate to each other. Nailed it!
My heart dropped a little as he hesitated from touching the heart with the three swords stabbed deeply through its chambers. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson on the scene to figure out this one meant some sort of heart break. He was still on my past so I was thinking he was probably going to talk about me and my ex. But that didn't really make sense to me because that break up didn't really break my heart. I knew it was coming and I was over it by the next day. To my surprise, he said that I had actually felt some heart ache around the "dawn of the new year." Meaning I had experienced pain of the heart around January. I have to say, it wasn't heart ache, just dull disappointment. But nevertheless, he was still right. My heart was sad for a fool who hadn't changed the slightest in more than the insignificant sense of love. There was no love there, not even a like, but I had hoped just for a moment that everything had changed.
We moved into the here and now with The Eight of Pentacles, the little man working on something was next. He told me that I had been working hard on something lately and that if I was to continue to put forth a doubled effort, it was going to make me very successful and happy. Hmm... wonder what that could be? I think I have an idea of what it could be. We shall see I suppose.
My fortune teller wanted to proceed into the very near future with The Empress. He explained to me that this beautiful woman was the face of creation and grace in everything she made. The Empress, he said, sees and takes significant joy in everything that she makes. My mind went immediately to my blog. This is my baby and I have never made something that I enjoy more. He said the love The Empress embodies is both her greatest strength and her most daunting weakness, being as though even though she loves so much, sometimes that love is not reciprocated with the same magnitude.
Then something happened that I hadn't expected. His ears turned a little pink and his cheeks went flush as he told me The Empress represented something else. His eyes flashed from mine to my mother's who was standing behind hanging onto every word probably more so than I was. Mr. Crystal ball said that The Empress represents fertility and the chance of having a baby. "Since The Empress came to us in this position, I would say it is very likely that you will become pregnant in the fall of this year. If you do not wish to become a mother right now, I would recommend extreme caution because she is very willful in this for you this year." WHAT IN THE HELL!? I felt my mouth fall open and I just couldn't even speak. I felt my neck getting hot and I am pretty sure the setting sun had nothing to do with the sweat that began to bead on my skin. WHAT?! The only thing I could do was think, "Absolutely not having sex with anyone. I am so glad I don't have a boyfriend. I cannot take a baby in the Baby Bjorn to Physics in the spring. Might as well wrap my lower half in crime scene tape because there is nobody going between the space where my jeans meet my skin. Nope, no babies. Absolutely freaking not. Kinley is enough baby for me right now, and she is one that I can give back to her Momma when I can't please her with Doggies (aka 101 Dalmatians) and chocolate milk.
I was too stunned to pay too much attention to the Queen of Swords and the Ace of Swords because I was just thinking of how I needed to padlock myself in a tower and guard myself with a dragon to insure a little prince or princess didn't happen to me. Then he got to Justice. Justice, he explained, often dealt with things of legal means. The scales represent the balance between fair and unfair. He cautioned me that the position of this card meant that something very unjust was going to happen to me around coming up March-May. Perfect, that's just what I need is for my life to turn into an episode of Judge Judy.
The handsome faced man on his noble steed was the Knight of Swords. Surely, this was good news. Surely it was saying some beautiful man was going to come riding into my life and whisk me away to live out our fairytale. Surely, something in these cards would show my love life turning around. How very wrong I was. My fashionable fortune teller proceeded to tell me with a heavy sigh that the placement of this card represented a man fleeing from my life quickly. He said not to fear death more so than a love interest leaving and disappearing suddenly. Great.
The last, the Page of Wands was my last hope for some sort of happiness out of being pregnant, defeated legally and being lonely. He said with sweet splendor that the Page of Wands is to represent passion for something and childlike wonder and interest in something, and also total fearlessness in whatever I am currently pursuing or will pursue. He said it could come in the form of something that sparks my interest and that the Page will lend me his creative notion to make whatever it is grand. Once this Page enters, your life will never be the same. He said it could be in the form of a person who is so carefree and wonderful who could come into my life. I thought inwardly that it probably won't be a man since I just saw him galloping away with my broken heart and crushed dreams. This person brings you a childlike happiness that is hard to keep contained. Perhaps it is my sweet little niece who brings me so much joy and happiness just to be around her who is the Page of Wands in my life. Or maybe it is a man, who is creative and ambitious and fun and looks at the world in awe. Just the thing I am looking for in a man.
How interesting it was listen to a man in a nice tie tell me what my future is to hold and the options that each card brings. Even in my moment of despair as I thought, "Cool, I will be pregnant, I'll have to go to court over custody/ child support and lose in an unjust fashion, and then this man is going to runaway and leave us high and dry all alone. Perfect, might as well just jump from the harness when I go parasailing tomorrow since this future is looking oh so enjoyable" I thought how cool to "know." It is neat to hear that things could go one way or another just depending on how I "saw things." I don't know if y'all have noticed, but I am very indecisive and unpredictable. Even though this might be a bunch of bologna, even though this could just be a man who pulled me in with his fancy card tricks, it was nice to "see" into the crystal ball and have half an idea of what could possibly happen. Cross your fingers that there is no baby or fleeing man or legal issue that favors the other person in an unjust fashion. But even still, the possibilities are amazing, and the chance of knowing what is to come is just thrilling.
I think the whole art of this fortune telling thing is to give people options. They say it could be this, but it could also be this if you aren't happy with the answer I have given you. I think the whole point is to say, you have a choice in this life, in this future. The message, I think, is to choose wisely if you are presented with the choice. So I am not wanting to create a baby, even though The Empress means fertility and creation, I have the option to look at this as maybe my creation will be my blog and its many posts, or maybe something in writing other than a blog. Who knows? The only way to know for sure is to just live and let it happen.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
The Beginning of the Dirtay Three's
Hello all from beautiful Federal Way Washington,
Last week I stood at the Southernmost point of the continental U.S. in Key West and now I am all the way up on the West Coast visiting my other set of Grandparents and Aunt Melanie. It is actually kind of chilly here tonight, which I am totally loving after Mildred the Mazda aka my car informed me that it was 106 degrees outside in Jacksonville the other day. You know you live in Florida when your legs stick to your cloth seats like they would leather. You know you live in Florida when you buy Baby Lips chapstick multiple times a month because if you leave yours in the car for 2.5 minutes, it has melted like the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz.
Enough of the crappy "You know you are in Florida when..." sayings though. I want to go back to a time three summers ago on a hot day, like the other day in my car, when Cassie and I moved into the notorious apartment 13311 in Tallahassee to begin the college chapter of our lives. It was just 2 weeks ago that I put my electronic key into the garnet painted door to lock it for the last time and bid 13311 a bittersweet goodbye. I must say, I got progressively sadder as Cassie and I painted the cheetah print walls that Taytum's Mom and Nana had so craftily painted back to the industrial white over this past summer to get it move in ready for the next pack of roommates. It was like we were painting over memories and stories that the walls would tell if only they could talk. At this moment, I am glad walls aren't able to tattle on the things they have been privy to since we started living there. The tales range from amazing to crazy to good to ugly to sexy to you-better-not-tell-anyone-or-I'll-hacksaw-you-in-half to best moments of my life.
Cassie and I had just gotten through our last day of orientation when my Nanny and Momma Ruby (Cassie's mom) decided to inform us that the apartment we had picked out online was not adequate for our taste in real life and that they had canceled the lease. How that happened I have no idea. Most places won't let you do it without some epic legal battle. I suppose Momma Ruby worked her wicked black magic. Seriously, I have never met someone who can pull strings and do whatever she wants like Ruby does. Also, she wins everything. Any kind of raffle, radio show give away, pick the lucky duck in the pond, etc. If it can be won, Ruby will win it. She won the same radio contest twice before. She's definitely a wizard.
Well, the dilemma then came, where were we to live? We only had a few weeks to find a place and most places were filling up or full. We should have known that they had already conspired and fixed this problem for us. We drove to a place called Boardwalk at Appleyard apartments. Upon pulling up we could tell it was nice. We were met upon arrival by a tan skinned man with slicked back black hair. He had a Rico Suave vibe about him with a slick voice to match. He led us into the model apartment and we instantly fell in love. It was spacious, pretty, the rooms had queen beds and we would each have a bathroom to ourselves. I distinctly remember trying to find something wrong with the place and I made the comment, "the bathrooms are small," but there was a little voice inside me saying where do we sign up?
Nanny and Ruby had already taken care of that too. We were already signed up and just needed to put our John Hancock on a few papers.
A few weeks latter, laden down with boxes, bedspreads and baseball bats (my boyfriend at the time gave me one to "protect myself" with), we pulled around to the apartment we were supposed to move into. Rico Suave aka Francis told us we would be moving into a newly cleaned all ready to go apartment. With the little buzzing sound the electronic key made and a swing of a door, we knew all too well that the apartment hadn't been cleaned in months, if ever. There was stuff everywhere and a family of roaches had made Gaylord Resort out of this apartment. They were everywhere! If Nanny had been about to faint because of the stains on the runner boards, she was practically on the floor from the roaches. Ruby stormed up to the front and demanded we be moved immediately. The poor soul up at the front desk apologized frantically saying there had been a mistake and handed us a new set of keys to apartment 13311. It was all the way in the back, but I saw the silver lining. At least it wasn't next to the creepy woods. Cassie liked the fact that the bus stop was right outside our door as well so things were looking up.
We thought, second time must be a charm. With a silent prayer I slid my key into the spaceage lock and opened the door to find something more peculiar than the roaches and a dirty apartment.
From our post in the door frame, we could see a large, dark figure on the couch. And it was breathing! Well snoring actually. You see, we had interrupted the sleep of a very large black man. He was about as big as Hagrid from Harry Potter and was as startled to see us as we were to see him in lounging form. His name has slipped my mind now, but he was a security guard for Boardwalk and he had been living there. He moved rapidly around the apartment grabbing Gatorade bottles and clothes while apologizing frantically. Stunned and shocked, we proceeded to move in after he left swiftly out the door.
Now, with moving into a new place that other people have lived in before, I knew we would probably hit a few snags with whatever problems they had left behind. My bed was one of them. I am not sure what was done on this bed to make it feel and sound the way it did, but it sounded like it had been put in a very large washing machine on the deep wash cycle. It was probably just an old mattress that needed to be replaced. Every time I simply turned over in the bed, it sounded like I was making a dirty movie with how much it squeaked and squealed. My next door neighbors probably thought I was either a slut or just very very lucky.
My very favorite malady this apartment brought with it was the refrigerator. My Nanny, Mom, and Momma Ruby had all went to Sam's to stock Cassie and I up on Ramen Noodles, Eggo Waffles, and all sorts of other college cuisine type foods. They spent a lot of money on bulk freezer items to last us for a while. One night upon coming home starving for some salad with grilled chicken on top, I called Cassie to see if she wanted me to make enough for her. Of course she did, girl can barely boil water without burning the house down. I was chatting with her on the phone to help pass the time until she got there. I proceeded to grab the chicken breast out of the freezer so I could put it on our little grill when something made me swear and scream. Something very warm and wet hit my feet.
For about two seconds, I had no idea what was going on. I had a moment of terror thinking that my water had just broken like I was pregnant or something. Cassie and I went through an obsessive phase with a show called "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant" and there were all sorts of horrific recounts of women who had no idea they were pregnant and randomly had babies on boats and in toilets. After a moment of rational, I figured out that the semi thick pale pink liquid was from the bag of chicken I had just pulled from the freezer. I was confused. How on earth could it have been all watery if it was in the freezer? I pulled the freezer door back open only to realize that it was obviously broken. There was water all in the freezer from everything melting. My favorite was a tub of strawberry ice cream that had gotten frothy from the heat and foamed up out of the carton to fill the freezer with a pink, sticky, foamy mess. It looked like Barbie threw up in there! I was literally gagging as I mopped up the goopy chicken disgustingness off my feet and off my floor. Needless to say, we ate out that night and I had completely lost my appetite for grilled chicken salad.
As I am writing this blog, I have decided to do a segment called "The Dirtay Threes." It will be all about the misadventures in apartment 13311 with all the roommates I came to love or leave behind in life. Get ready y'all, it is going to be a fun ride in the Dirtay Three posts.
Last week I stood at the Southernmost point of the continental U.S. in Key West and now I am all the way up on the West Coast visiting my other set of Grandparents and Aunt Melanie. It is actually kind of chilly here tonight, which I am totally loving after Mildred the Mazda aka my car informed me that it was 106 degrees outside in Jacksonville the other day. You know you live in Florida when your legs stick to your cloth seats like they would leather. You know you live in Florida when you buy Baby Lips chapstick multiple times a month because if you leave yours in the car for 2.5 minutes, it has melted like the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz.
Enough of the crappy "You know you are in Florida when..." sayings though. I want to go back to a time three summers ago on a hot day, like the other day in my car, when Cassie and I moved into the notorious apartment 13311 in Tallahassee to begin the college chapter of our lives. It was just 2 weeks ago that I put my electronic key into the garnet painted door to lock it for the last time and bid 13311 a bittersweet goodbye. I must say, I got progressively sadder as Cassie and I painted the cheetah print walls that Taytum's Mom and Nana had so craftily painted back to the industrial white over this past summer to get it move in ready for the next pack of roommates. It was like we were painting over memories and stories that the walls would tell if only they could talk. At this moment, I am glad walls aren't able to tattle on the things they have been privy to since we started living there. The tales range from amazing to crazy to good to ugly to sexy to you-better-not-tell-anyone-or-I'll-hacksaw-you-in-half to best moments of my life.
Cassie and I had just gotten through our last day of orientation when my Nanny and Momma Ruby (Cassie's mom) decided to inform us that the apartment we had picked out online was not adequate for our taste in real life and that they had canceled the lease. How that happened I have no idea. Most places won't let you do it without some epic legal battle. I suppose Momma Ruby worked her wicked black magic. Seriously, I have never met someone who can pull strings and do whatever she wants like Ruby does. Also, she wins everything. Any kind of raffle, radio show give away, pick the lucky duck in the pond, etc. If it can be won, Ruby will win it. She won the same radio contest twice before. She's definitely a wizard.
Well, the dilemma then came, where were we to live? We only had a few weeks to find a place and most places were filling up or full. We should have known that they had already conspired and fixed this problem for us. We drove to a place called Boardwalk at Appleyard apartments. Upon pulling up we could tell it was nice. We were met upon arrival by a tan skinned man with slicked back black hair. He had a Rico Suave vibe about him with a slick voice to match. He led us into the model apartment and we instantly fell in love. It was spacious, pretty, the rooms had queen beds and we would each have a bathroom to ourselves. I distinctly remember trying to find something wrong with the place and I made the comment, "the bathrooms are small," but there was a little voice inside me saying where do we sign up?
Nanny and Ruby had already taken care of that too. We were already signed up and just needed to put our John Hancock on a few papers.
A few weeks latter, laden down with boxes, bedspreads and baseball bats (my boyfriend at the time gave me one to "protect myself" with), we pulled around to the apartment we were supposed to move into. Rico Suave aka Francis told us we would be moving into a newly cleaned all ready to go apartment. With the little buzzing sound the electronic key made and a swing of a door, we knew all too well that the apartment hadn't been cleaned in months, if ever. There was stuff everywhere and a family of roaches had made Gaylord Resort out of this apartment. They were everywhere! If Nanny had been about to faint because of the stains on the runner boards, she was practically on the floor from the roaches. Ruby stormed up to the front and demanded we be moved immediately. The poor soul up at the front desk apologized frantically saying there had been a mistake and handed us a new set of keys to apartment 13311. It was all the way in the back, but I saw the silver lining. At least it wasn't next to the creepy woods. Cassie liked the fact that the bus stop was right outside our door as well so things were looking up.
We thought, second time must be a charm. With a silent prayer I slid my key into the spaceage lock and opened the door to find something more peculiar than the roaches and a dirty apartment.
From our post in the door frame, we could see a large, dark figure on the couch. And it was breathing! Well snoring actually. You see, we had interrupted the sleep of a very large black man. He was about as big as Hagrid from Harry Potter and was as startled to see us as we were to see him in lounging form. His name has slipped my mind now, but he was a security guard for Boardwalk and he had been living there. He moved rapidly around the apartment grabbing Gatorade bottles and clothes while apologizing frantically. Stunned and shocked, we proceeded to move in after he left swiftly out the door.
Now, with moving into a new place that other people have lived in before, I knew we would probably hit a few snags with whatever problems they had left behind. My bed was one of them. I am not sure what was done on this bed to make it feel and sound the way it did, but it sounded like it had been put in a very large washing machine on the deep wash cycle. It was probably just an old mattress that needed to be replaced. Every time I simply turned over in the bed, it sounded like I was making a dirty movie with how much it squeaked and squealed. My next door neighbors probably thought I was either a slut or just very very lucky.
My very favorite malady this apartment brought with it was the refrigerator. My Nanny, Mom, and Momma Ruby had all went to Sam's to stock Cassie and I up on Ramen Noodles, Eggo Waffles, and all sorts of other college cuisine type foods. They spent a lot of money on bulk freezer items to last us for a while. One night upon coming home starving for some salad with grilled chicken on top, I called Cassie to see if she wanted me to make enough for her. Of course she did, girl can barely boil water without burning the house down. I was chatting with her on the phone to help pass the time until she got there. I proceeded to grab the chicken breast out of the freezer so I could put it on our little grill when something made me swear and scream. Something very warm and wet hit my feet.
For about two seconds, I had no idea what was going on. I had a moment of terror thinking that my water had just broken like I was pregnant or something. Cassie and I went through an obsessive phase with a show called "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant" and there were all sorts of horrific recounts of women who had no idea they were pregnant and randomly had babies on boats and in toilets. After a moment of rational, I figured out that the semi thick pale pink liquid was from the bag of chicken I had just pulled from the freezer. I was confused. How on earth could it have been all watery if it was in the freezer? I pulled the freezer door back open only to realize that it was obviously broken. There was water all in the freezer from everything melting. My favorite was a tub of strawberry ice cream that had gotten frothy from the heat and foamed up out of the carton to fill the freezer with a pink, sticky, foamy mess. It looked like Barbie threw up in there! I was literally gagging as I mopped up the goopy chicken disgustingness off my feet and off my floor. Needless to say, we ate out that night and I had completely lost my appetite for grilled chicken salad.
As I am writing this blog, I have decided to do a segment called "The Dirtay Threes." It will be all about the misadventures in apartment 13311 with all the roommates I came to love or leave behind in life. Get ready y'all, it is going to be a fun ride in the Dirtay Three posts.
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