Me:      He’s divine

Pink:    No he’s not

Me:      You should see what he’s texting me

Me:      my hands will rove most passionately. And my face will bury itself in your bosoms in short order.

Me:      "short order"

Me:      how the freak can I resist that

Pink :   isn't bosom supposed to be singular?

Me:      Damn’t now he is human again

Pink :   sorry

Me:      you would see that grammatical error

Pink :   this is why I don't date

So a buddy of mine is dating in Denver.  And she ran across this little gem that she just had to share.  I think it is pure genius so I had to share it too... and analyze it as well.

I heart you craigslist <3




Date: 2009-06-15, 3:56PM MDT


Ladies are you tired of your black man that does not work, has other kids you help him take care of, does not listen to you, rub your feet sometimes, take your car without asking, and just parties in the club with his boys all week long and make you stay at home. ladies i know as a black man that aome of us do those type of things, so if your in the market for a new black man listen up

Im employed with a good job, i dont stay at home with mom even though we are in a recssion i have two cars, im six foot 2 200 pounds no kids and no crazy exes
things i like to do

1) read
2) sports
3) watch movies
4)and just chill

about you

1) Down to earth
2) can cook
3) no kids. i might make an exception if the baby dad is far far away--i hate baby dad drama
4) has a career
5) own home
6) can rub a back do the splits or shoot an basketball, or kick a soccer ball, something athletic
7)pretty feet
8) at least a b plus-that means you better be looking like an model or on the verge of looking like one..lol

preference (just what i really like)
1) can conversate good
2) dark hair
3) light skin. that means mixed black women white women mexican and white asian mexican--you get the point
4) nice hands
5) not a pushover

things i can do for you
1) listen when you come home tired or have problems
2) rub your back and feet
3) take you out if i feel like your worthy of a good wine and dine
4) put my face in the cookie if you know what i mean
5)not try to get with one of your friends after you tell her how good the sex is..lol
6) be loyal and respectful
7) make you laugh

Well if you still reading im sure your laughing right now. and thats my best quality making a women laugh. so anyway i know your saying what does this brotha look like.. well im not gonna lie im not usher but i dont look like SEAL either so if SEAL the singer can get HEDI KLUM a model im sure i can get a nice good looking women. hell somebodies got to date you why not me...get back with me with pic and contact info myspace facebook link, and i will will be happy to send pics of me. thanks and please no dumb replies only serious ones cause i am being serious.. thanks


Source: http://denver.craigslist.org/m4w/1223193506.html

See genius and I'll explain why: 
Aside from the overwhelming amount of grammatical and spelling errors which is a painful and probably accurate red flag regarding the underwhelming upcoming “Conversate” any woman daft enough to take him on would have, this is 100% pure genius.

Because (while being completely high-larious) he has presented honest intent and personal character clear enough for any woman of any imagination to get the full vivid picture… even though it isn’t a pretty one.  He has meticulously laid out bright yellow “Danger” tape and bold red signs that say “Stop sbm with self esteem so low he has to write I as i, seeking articulate -lighter- than a paper bag video girl to engage in foot fetish and hand porn who will not mind spanking him since it would bring some validation and excitement to his life which consists of:

1) read
2) sports
3) watch movies
4)and just chill

 

While the offer to “take you out if i feel like your worthy of a good wine and dine.” May seem heartwarming at first it is a guarded cruising for a bruising. So is the reassuring promise  to “not try to get with one of your friends after you tell her how good the sex is..lol”

 

The pièce de résistance… and there is a pièce de résistance is the Newtonian logic presented in his closing statements …  and I quote “somebodies got to date you why not me”.   How noble and self sacrificing.

 

The ironic genius is this: In his effort to not be one undesirable man he has depicted himself as that man’s equal if not brother.  Bravo and encore sir.  I’m no video girl but I have pretty feet and hands and I am fully capable of tying you up and spanking you… you misogynic myopic blatantly masochistic foot fetish freak you.

I am happy for my friends whose marriages were upheld and respected.
and I am furious beyond words that the marriages that were to be can not come to pass at least not right now. 

I believed with all my heart that prop 8 would be seen as the deplorable, disrespectful, demeaning, segregationist piece of shit it is. 

I believed with all my heart that there was indeed a division between church and state.

I believed with all my heart that if IOWA could do it then CALIFORNIA sure the hell could.

I thought that people would see that this isn't just about marriage that it is about Civil Rights.  Just like it was all those years ago with a person of my ethnicity could not do certain things or marry certain people.

I thought that people would see this as a president for control.  That if they could do this with marriage that they could do this with other things too.

 

I think that what happened today is WRONG

and I belive it is FAR FROM OVER!!!

erase the H8

I keep trying to blog about what it was like on stage that Monday night.

 

What it felt like to taunt, tease and strip down to pasties and panties infront of the general public who hooted and hollered enthusiastically.  But I can’t.

 

In all honesty all I remember is this:

~nervous anticipation while standing at the curtain waiting to go on stage.

~an oddly hilarious moment when I realized in passing that the weird taste in my mouth was because I almost threw up.

~a sense of frantic disorientation when I made it back stage and wondered were my clothes were.

 

Standing there on that metal chair next to Kitty Von Quim with my arms upraised, my  hips twisted, exposed to the world was wonderful and powerful but this open ending seems trivial in comparison to what happened next.

 

During the second act there was a woman.  A belly dancer and she was gorgeous.  She was stunning, she was amazing.  She wove a spell like a shimmering  net, caught us up and drew us into her seduction.  In the end I applauded her wildly.

 

This may not seem like a big deal to some.

To me it was.

 

Less than six months ago I would have despised this woman

I would have hated her sexuality

I would have been jealous of her body

I would have compared myself to her and let her lovely image disgrace me, twist me, taunt me into a self loathing that would have began in starvation and ended with a binge.

 

But that didn’t happen this time

It didn’t happen because I was and am aware of the truth of my own sexuality, of my own body, of my own lovely image.

 

The truth of this makes me free

Free to enjoy her quaking hips

Free to applaud each thrust and twist

Free to see each bump and grind

Free to scream and clap in time

 

Because I have finally accepted me I can accept and appreciate her.

No matter who “her” is

And that is a powerful thing indeed.

I went to the chiropractor this morning to get adjusted and he tackled my hip. I moaned in pure orgasmic joy and began giggling like a school girl in heat.

 

Got more swish in this sway than ever and I exited Mae West style swinging my purse and everything. If I smoked I would have paused to lean against the wall casually with one leg bent at the knee and propped  up against the building as I exhaled thick clouds of habit forming nicotine that is just as addictive as the firm but gentle adminstrations of Dr Savage.

 

I'm a little sore now(he told me that would happen) and strangely I have want of a nap as well.

In a little more than 72 hours I will be standing in direct defiance of every negative thing about my body that I have been taught to believe

I will take the stage in front of total strangers and fond friends;) and if you are there you will see that it will take a total of three minutes for me to stylishly remove two black gloves, one silk nighty and a black and purple laced bra.

What you will not see is the decade it has taken me to remove the limitations of self hate
What you will not see is the years I have spent removing corrosive loathing in order find my worth and self love
What you will not see is the six months it has taken me to remove that defeating fear that has told me that my dreams will never be my reality


You'll see me
just me
all of me
exactly how I was made to be

Yours Truly,
Miss Magnoliah Black

Pink:   I saw Wolverine last week
Me:      and
Pink:   It was amazing
Me:     I thought I would give her a second chance Was Hugh Jackman’s ass amazing or was the movie amazing?
Pink:   Both
Me:      fucking sigh

 

 

Anyways onto something that issssssss amazing Star Trek!!!
I achieved orgasm just thinking about it…. but it was an angry orgasm.

Because this guy (Zachary Quinto) Who plays this guy  (Sylar the sociopath serial killer king of the douches, emperor of asshats who doesn’t have the decency to stay dead… I don’t care if he has turned good I don’t fucking trust him)

 

Is playing this guy.  Who is you know... GOD   (yes really)

 

And I'm angry because

(Oh god) +  (fuck you)  = (Oh God Fuck Me)





(squared)

see angry sex            :)

Which would be totally amazing since Vulcan’s are really strong and he would pin me down and go all slow while gazing at me intensely. His face a logical mask though his passion is belied by the “obvious” and the sweat accumulating across his virile Vulcan brow.  He would be infuriatingly stoic as I screamed curses before succumbing to his…. melding.  His long hard melding.

 

yea fucking sigh .....hold me? 

on second thought spank me!!!!

You know it's like the song says.  “It’s gonna be a long way to happy”

 

~That’s because you’re carrying too much fucking baggage.

 

Fuck you.

 

~You don’t have the equipment sweetie but if you want we can take a day trip to the City so you can get some.

 

No fuck you.  You think you have it all together but look at yourself look at your life.

 

~I’m sorry did I hurt your feelings?

 

Yeah.

 

~I didn’t mean to.

 

I know… where are you going?.

 

She was  just sitting there  in her oversized sweater, the computer screen turning her skin this weird shade of bluish white.   She looks small and frail and I love her.  For a long time she has been a sister to me but I decline all invitations to all pity parties, not out of being a bitch, not out of lack of compassion but out of self protection.  Attendance at these functions does one of two things.

~ gives me that thank goddess that is not me feeling that poor sob

~encourages me to throw my own

 

Neither of these are accepted schools of thought for me.  I don’t like watching other people’s train wreck since I’ve started to pull myself from the rubble of my own.  And this particular train wreck has been happening for a long ass time. 

 

~Home… it’s late and I work in the morning.   I love Pink you know I do but fuck that song.  Maybe you shouldn’t be listening to it.   Indie Arie has a song called Hope another one called I Choose.

 

I need to process this you know.

 

~You’ve been processing for 13 years.

 

Fuck you

 

~Day trip

 

It doesn’t make any difference… life is shit, life is always gonna be shit.  You have moments when it’s good and then it all gets fucked.  Every time like clockwork.

 

~If you want to see it that way….

 

You’re not perfect you know.

 

I laugh because I am perfect…  and I am flawed, weird, obsessive, extreme and one strange little girl but I am perfect at being the me I am right now in this moment, today… as I walk away.

 

You’re a megalomaniac.

 

~I know.

 

You really have to leave?

 

~Yep

 

Well goodnight hun.

 

~Goodbye dear.

 

 

It’s been five months since I walked out of that apartment that night.  Away from a woman that was a sister to me. 

 

Turns out she was then and is now is sister to a dead woman. A dead woman who in life had delighted in misery, who always said I can’t, who blamed others for her problems, who used everything from weather to weight as an excuse not live fully.    I know this woman is dead because I offed the pathetic punk ass bitch … I only keep her pictures around as a warning.

 

A warning to never ever be that woman again

 

That wasn’t how it started though.

I wanted to help this person see her own beauty, her own power.  But I wasn’t strong enough to lift myself let alone her.  So I sank down besides her… spent hours with her at the grave of our dreams in happy content mourning.

 

Occasionally I would tell her things like

You can do it

You deserve happy

You should stop giving away your power

You have to cut the toxic people out of your life

 

I tried to pound this message into her repeatedly and one day I got bitch slapped by the universe and realized that the unsolicited unheeded advice I was giving was really meant for me.  That this person I was so close to was a reflection of myself…. I didn’t like what I saw.  So I took my own advice. 

 

 

She’s calling now.

This sister to a dead woman.

She is sending out the usual feelers in all the usual directions

 

And I am at a loss

Wondering if I am strong enough now to take her on.

Wondering if my lesson is to let go.

You passed by me today, asked me what my weekend was gonna be like and when I tell you, you laugh in that condescending way you have
a disparaging way meant to degrade my lifestyle and choices,
a contemptible way meant to corrupt  my hard earned social and spiritual freedoms

When you laugh like this I am surprised

I am surprised because your disguised jealousy and your lonely misplaced aggressions do not effect me. And I am glad...

I'm glad that song by Lily Allen was playing in the background...
you know "fuck you... fuck you very much"
It filled the silence nicely as I merely smiled brightly. 
It sang along at every pause while you reminded me of out dated goals that I had listed in October when my life was agonizing instead of amazing. 
It replied in its chipper up beat way making a shield of brightly colored wings around me that you couldn't get though,
that lifted me up above you
and I could see that it annoyed you.

Cause even if you couldn't catch the words of the song
You caught the drift of what I was saying
"I'm happy now, I've found where and who I need to be.  Don't worry your little head about me sugah."

And I turn away
turned up the music
and listen to you fade way into the background.

So Melo and I went to the beach and I brought my fender and she brought her congo.  It was a beautiful hot as hell day and with her encouragement we made this recording of a song that I wrote I think I sound nasally and the wind is blowing hard but I'm really glad we did it.
now I just need to figure out how to play the other nine songs I wrote :)

Thanks Melo!! xoxo

Dre dropped the book infront of me while I sat twisting my unkempt locs back into some sort of reasonable neatness.  It’s been a long time since I have inquired as to just why she gives me something to read/do.  Everything she seems to point out to me has been relevant.  It is as if the universe sends me messages that I too busy fucking around to notice and she has the lovely inclination to grab my head and twist my neck so that I stop and take a look see. 

I was quite resistant the first few times.  But after a while I realized that this process is a lot less painful if I just accept it. 

This time  it is a book on birthdays and astrology.  I open it up to age 27 & 28 and I am blown away, caught up in a feeling a overwhelming relief and warmed by a deep sense of connection to the vast universe around me.

This wild trip through the rabbit hole, this turmoil between healer and hedonist, this casting off of my old self and creation of the new, this painful passing, isolation, insomnia, this fit of exhibitionism, excitement, acceptance, all the serendipity of the last few months, all this death and rebirth, every glorious bit of greatness and gore that has been astronomical is merely astrological.

Saturn Returns… with a fucking vengeance I might add and with it comes cleansing, purification, manifestation, actualization, maturity, responsibility and the confidence to live the life appropriate for me on my terms and no one else’s. 
It has meant the ending of old relationships,
180 to 359 high speed shifts in perception
So far it’s been humiliating and humbling,
exotic and empowering
and if I am correctly informed a completely normal part of the growing process.

As chaos of my 27^th year winds up to the adventure of the 28^th I am ever so excited to see what Life has in store because for a while there Life was giving it to me hard…
full on  bent over the barrel without the lube hard.  I’ve recently bitch slapped her, flipped the script and taken top and now...

now we are in madly, absolutely, positively in love
and pregnant with beautiful expectant possibility~~

I am happy
this emptiness right here
this emptiness right now
is a temporary thing.

Happy people cry too
even if their tears are confused, missed and taken for laughter
Happy people scream too
even though their pain is mistaken for con and fused with fervor

I am a happy person
and this emptiness is a temporary thing

this Emptiness
where my Worth once stood
Worth I so carelessly gave away
Worth that with an equal carelessness was wasted away,
until my hallowed became hollow  there
once warm womb turned temporary torrid tomb…

Stand not at this grave a weep for me
Neither grieve for me
Nor hold wake with me
instead
give me your noise
lend me your laughter
create chaotic celebration so that I can cry


Grieve not for me
nor hold wake with me

give me  noise
lend me  laughter
create chaotic celebration so that I can
cleanse
create
and cry

for I am a happy person
and this
this is but a temporary thing.

so the rumor mill is turning
I hate that expression
it's right up there with " I see someone has a case of the Mondays...."  not that I have ever personally had a case of the Mondays.  My weekends are so full that I am bright chipper and cheery to be set with only one responsibility for 8 hours.  No, I don't generally get "the Mondays" but hearing some one say it sure gives me a case of the "I will end yous"

So anyways the rumor mill is turning.  And everyone is on it.  It flipping gigantic  and everyone gets their own little blade.  Its not one of those fancy wind mills... no its an old fashion water mill with this hidden feature that allows the controller to push a button so that the blade lowers at the apropraite time to behead one of the poor victims attached to it.

everyone is freaking out cause they can hear the mill turning .
creak creak creak creak
and people are getting neurotic, trying to figure out ways to trick the system, jam the gears or bend their neck in the right way at the right time to avoid collision.  And I feel neurotic too but not for those reasons.  I feel this way because I wonder if I should be freaking out too instead of wondering what I am going to do with all my free time in case I get severed as well.

 

 

It slipped let me push it back in she says

 

And for a moment I think that she is going to reach down and do it right there in the booth.

 

Ahhh can we wait until we are outside?

 

Why… are you afraid that you are going to cry like a baby inside the restaurant?

 

This is a question I don’t feel the need to reply to since we both know the answer.  Once outside she takes my ear pulls down on the lobe and without pause or panic proceeds to firmly push the metal through the tiny hole until it can’t go anymore.  All I can think is. this is the ear that isn’t sensitive.  All I can say is… scream is  Argggggggggggggggggh!!!!

 

Quit whining you’re fine, you’re fine. 

She starts in on the other ear (the sensitive one) with just as much kindness.  This time I’m able to speak somewhat normally.  At least this hurts less than the biopsy of my cervix.

 

I’m not sure if she heard me.

But what she said next struck me.   You wanted this, you’ll just have to suffer through, we suffer for the things that we want. 

 

And I know she said it light heartedly but it’s true.  The change that I have created in my life has been a painful process but well worth it.  My mind, my body, my limitations, my beliefs have all stretched a bit and it has been uncomfortable but well worth it.

 

There you’re done she says after a few seconds.

I turn around and hug her with a weak thank you and an even frailer but honest I love you.

 

She laughs as she walks to her car.  “See you’re fine…Don’t be such a pussy or I won’t do your tattoos.”

 

 

That’s Dre

She is friend and sister.  She’ll tell me congratulations just as easily as she’ll tell me that I’m screwing up.  She’ll let me cry and bitch and moan for a bit before she asks me what I’m gonna do about it and then check up to make sure that I am doing something about it.

 

She believes in being her sister’s keeper… she is creative and compassionate (when she’s not gauging your ear).  And she has been by my side.  During this last year and these last six months for the best of it and the worst of it.  Telling me that I am fine though all the stretching and the pussying out and encouraging me to move forward, move fearlessly, move beyond.

 

And I love her for it.

 

Thanks Dre
from the bottom of my heart to the holes in my ears... thank you.
 

 

One of the great things that I have learned is that I can choose how I feel. I can choose to continue to feel angry and cheapened or I can choose to learn, laugh and move on.

Last night when I got home from work I chose the latter.  While surfin the internets for funny clips and distractions I came across some Futurama and it was just what I needed to see. There is this character on Futurama called Zapp Brannigan who is a complete pain in the ass to our main girl Leela after a one time roll in the hay. He is described in the following wikipedia excerpt as:

 

arrogant, incompetent, chauvinistic, cocky, vain, and painfully stupid… Brannigan envisions himself a "ladies' man", but is clueless in matters of romance. He remains convinced that Leela lusts after him and will eventually return to him, despite her (often literally) violent opposition to the idea.

The creators describe him as being "40% Kirk, 60% Shatner"
 

I’m not mad at him anymore and I am not mad at me anymore just merely annoyed that I actually have my own personal Captain No Pants
lol & fucking sigh~

What special kind of fucking idiot do you take me for?
I really want to know because either
a)you're a complete asshole or
b)I have a sign on my fucking forehead that leads you to assume that you can lie to me, or otherwise con me into a fuck.

I can't believe you tried that shit on me.  I can't believe you tried that shit on me.  See I'm so astounded that I had to say it twice.  Actually I've driven way past Words and have made a sharp turn off of Indignant and onto full blown Ire .  You misogynistic myopic peon how fucking disgraceful of you to use that to try to get to the pussy.  How low, how condescending, how despicable to attempt to use my compassion against me!

I am mad as hell, but even this bullshit cloud you are spouting has a silver lining to it... my forced and rather uncomfortable acquaintance with you has helped me take things with a grain of salt, notice patterns of users, cultivate several witty ways to communicate no, and taught me the value of asking myself these following questions:

 

1 Does he/she respect you?

2 Do you respect him/her?

3 How does how he/she treat you in public differ from how they treat you in private?

4 Do you really like them or what they represent themselves to be


It is embarrassing to admit that at the age of 27 I am just learning to ask myself these questions

It is embarrassing to admit that you were the one who taught me to ask myself these questions

It is embarrassing to admit that allowed you into my life/home/temple even if it was for a hot second.

 

But there it is

 

So in essence
And in closing

Thank you for the lessons
I’m a quick study
You are now, have been and continue to be free to fuck off!

“You won’t make it on pretty alone” Kitty von Quimm says

Friday night at 8:05pm 

I’m standing on a darkened street. 
my eyes are rimmed with khol, my lips shiny with blood wine colored gloss,
my dreds are pulled into two low buns at the back of my head.
I am dressed in a red and black striped corset,
short black skirt with a slit up the back,
and appropriately uncomfortable shiny black patent leather 6 inch fuck me stilettos whose steel grommets accents wrap scandalously up my ankle…
 

 

We are way past the do you know why I pulled you over, where are you coming from, where are you going song and dance.  It is flawless until we get to the registration part.
 

See I brought my car a while ago and didn’t register it until that Tuesday.  I have the paper work proving that it is registered in my binder… that is on my futon… at home along with my proof of insurance.

So now I am trying to prove that I am not a whore and the car is mine.  Frantically searching for my cell phone in my purse so I can ask Marlene to bring me the papers, pulling out things like a leather collar and nipple clamps while telling him my entire life story or at least the part about buying the car, the breaking up of my relationship, moving to a new place, working seven days a week and the reason why the car was not registered sooner.

The officer informs me of all the fines and penalties that I am facing

I get  angry…

I admit I behave badly.  I am really looking forward to play time with Mister…. seriously I am  going through withdrawl for a while.  And the thought of having my car taken away, fined 1,300 dollars for not having my proof of insurance on top of the possibility of not being able to see Mister was more than I could handle.

I get emotional.
 

Maybe it’s the massive amounts of cleavage
Maybe it’s that I’m about to cry
Maybe it’s the fact that beginning throws of crying makes the massive amount of cleavage dance like a hula girl on the dashboard of some teenagers first hand me down or maybe his first teenage hand me down but he softens.

Look I want to believe you but you don’t have any paper work or any proof that this is your car.
 

At this point the phone rings and its Mister who sounds a little worried and wants to know where I am.  I apologize to the officer and take the call and explain what’s going on… when I hang up I tell the officer that I’m going to get scolded for running late and speeding.

 

Where were you going again exactly?
~********

Where is it?

~I give him vague directions because I do not know the street address.

He gives me a look boarding on incredulity You don’t know the street address?

~I give him an equal look of indignation I’m a woman I drive by landmarks.

So what exactly is ********? 

~Um

A club a dinner what?

~It’s a

A social event, a dance hall?

~It’s…

A rave?

~It's...What ensues is a nearly 15 min conversation about the nature of bdsm, dispelling the myth that it is all about sex, the importance of safe,sane and consensual,  basics on submissive and dominate relationship, power and exchange and overview on the psychology involved in play.
 
So what are you?

~Right now… a Submissive Switch.

Ahh that makes sense. That should be helpful with balancing out your A type personality.

~You really think I have an A type personality? I’m clearly if not blantly appalled.
 
Raises an eyebrow....with incredulity

~Okay okay you're right

 

He laughs and it’s a real laugh.
And he lets me go… even tells me that I can continue onto  ********* instead of going home to get my paper work first.  Tells me to drive slower, wash my rear window so I can see (if I’m being followed by the police) and tells me his name and where the station is and in case I am stopped again his card.

About 20 mins later (cause I went home and got my paperwork) I’m gripping onto the St Andrews Cross screaming/moaning my new mantra.

 

and for a brief moment I can’t help but smile because the sheer visual of myself dressed up like that defending myself, my sexual preferences, and the legal status of my ride is stranger than fiction
and what’s even stranger is that I think that officer knew exactly where and what ******** was and I think
 

… I think he made a pass at me.