To my faithful followers...

GIMME YOUR AIMS!

Lol...

No but seriously, gimme ur aims and myspaces and emails.

AND BLOG LINKS! Some of you guys follow me and I KNOW you have your own blog but I can't find it :(

Give it to me please. I need something to read.

And I just came home the other day and I HAVE 36 FOLLOWERS!

(Pleasantly surprised. Actually gloating a little. Cheesy face on)

And also which one of you knows how to put pictures on this thing? Not the blog itself but the layout. Cause nearly all of you have it on YOUR blogs. I want to put my retarded pics up there too :(

On another note, I'm advertising again.

http://www.readgorgeously-satara.blogspot.com/

She is too real. She deleted her last blog against my will -_- but she's back at it. And I love it.

Lmao (remembering random things she says) She's too real.

Now...gimme those aims.

S.London

Steven London.

http://s-london.blogspot.com/

Follow him. Read him. Love him.

You won't regret it.

I think it's that time again...

Here we are again. Another case of the ex story.

Don't you just love these entries?

Anyway this is Malcolm.

Nice abs, sucky attitude.

I met him when I was 15 and he was 18. He had a problem with my age but he's a dude, I'm a chick, and he went for it anyway.

He was 3 years older and couldn't believe a girl my age was so intelligent and had common sense.

And I must say, I'm one of a kind. I'm pretty strange but I'm not boring.

I forget how many months we were going out. All I remember is the stress from it.

He was rude and obnoxious. He got into my head and made me believe that I was soo special and then tried to bend me to his will every chance he got. He was insecure. A little bit possessive. Immature at the wrong times. One of those types where it's all about him. Whenever we have a conversation, it's always HIS goals (that he never fulfilled) or HIS dreams (which are unrealistic) or sex.

sex sex sex sex sex.

A turn off.

He was a libra. Freaky bastards.

I digress. He was so interesting at first. I loved our conversations. We talked about the future, school, getting jobs, college, clothes, people, weather, seasons...

He was such a refreshing face! I had just stopped going back to my first love and the dude I was dating in between was no longer interested in me.

And here comes this attractive guy, with good conversation, nice teeth and skin...

I'm was mostly influenced by the movie Love Jones though. It had just came on 20 mins before I met Malcolm. I took it as a sign.

Can you blame me?

Our first argument:

Me: I don't smoke weed. And you can't pass that test you need for your job if you keep doing it.

Him: *Rolls a blunt and inhales* Mhm.

Me: Bye Malcolm

Him: *laughing* you mad?

Me:*storms out*

That first argument led to other arguments about me cheating on him, seeing other dudes, not doing what he wanted in bed...

On and on and on for months.

I remember very clearly, I had a very bad day. I needed him to support me emotionally.

He was nowhere to be found. Wouldn't answer my calls. And when he did and I complained about his bullshit, I get this response:

Malcom: Look I don't have time to hear you scream okay. I'm trynna do what I wanna do. I work now. I got a job. I don't want to hear all of this.

Me: But you said you were going to be there for me.

Malcolm: When I said I was gonna be there for you, I didn't mean it literally!

.......

...........................

.............................................................

Sad part is: He really said that shit. Just like that. I'll never forget it.

And somehow I just let it roll off of me, but I didn't call him again. We lost contact over the years.

I found out he had sex with an old friend of mine and on his old myspace there are pictures of his new baby boy.

And every now and again he would message me and try to reach me but I was still too angry to even take notice.

Fast Forward to today:

Message on myspace. He sends his number. Says hey, it's been a long time, I would really like to catch up.

So I call. It's been 3 years. I'm bored and cranky, why the hell not?

It starts off a little awkward, but he's asking me how I've been, how old I am now, what I've been up to, school, college, etc...

Strike 1: SO are you single now? he asks.

Why the flock would YOU wanna know negroe? Why is it any of your concern? I ain't going backwards to your rude and crazy ass.

Strike 2: (Talks mostly about himself and career goals for 45 mins)

*Please note, I stayed on the phone this long because my aim buddies suck. Alot. And sleep was not an option. Followers, do you have aim? Let's chat so we can avoid another situation like this*

Strike 3: Malcolm: "it's almost a yr to the day we started talking. and don't think im trynna get with u or nothin, oh no it's nothing like that but remember we said if it didn't work out we would meet back up when u were 18"

SO WHY BRING IT UP THEN?

What's your game, Malcolm cuz I really DON'T feel like playing.

Plus I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER SAYING THAT SHIT!

And the kicker of the story!!!

Strike FOUR: Have you ever lived one of your fantasies? Because I would love to see you (insert explicit nature of threesome here)

Me:..........Listen i got some1 on the other line so ima speak to u another time.

Malcolm: alrite but call me when----

CLICK!

The fuckery. The pure, unadulterated fuckery. The nerve. His own kid should smack him for that one.

Just no words. Again. I sure know how to pick them. SMH!

Needless to say he won't get a call back. Moral of the story: Keep the skeletons in the closet. They're ugly to look at in broad daylight.

The things I do out of boredom.

And the winner is!!

Welp! I just been tagged on the honest scrap award by the beautifully flawed one :).

I have to write down ten honest truths about myself.

This shall be veryyy interesting!

1. I think I am a dormant raging homo. NOW WAIIIIT A MINUTE! I ain't do no freak nasty with any chicks, it's just that I love looking at women. And lesbian porn. So sue me.

2. I heart porno. There's just something about it that makes me both cringe internally and appreciate the wonders of it all. Cherokee, Cherokee, Cherokee...

3. I didn't know what a "pussy" or a "dick" was until I was 13. While everyone else around me was learning all of this I was off wondering why sailor moon stopped coming on toonami.

4. I'm the jealous type. Most of my exes know this. At times I can reign in my jealousy and other times I'm particularly good at hiding it. But in the end, I wanna kill you. And the bitch who was staring at you across the classroom, two seats to the left in the third row.

5. I love LOOKING at kids. I hate INTERACTING with MOST kids. What some people don't get is that children are monsters and very very cruel. They laugh at retarded kids shamelessy (and while adults do that too, its not the adults who scar the retarded kids. its the raggamuffins) and do other horrible things like raid your panty draw or throw up on ur $80 white blouse. Bastards.

6. I hate hate HATE my legs. They're soo SKINNY and I have to shave wayy too often for my liking. My legs do NOT compliment me in skirts or shorts. To the contrary, they make me look more like a 14 year old. And the knees are wobbly. WHO LIKES WOBBLY KNEES? My sister calls me Chicken for a reason.

7. I don't do white guys but I would do Ryan Zimmerman, class of 2010. Just throwing that out there...

8. The phrase "I'll call you back" absolutely IRKS me to NO end! No matter how necessary it may be.

9. My ex-boyfriend Malcolm used to pyschologically abuse me. I blocked most of that relationship out of my mind but some scars will always stay with you. Literally.

10. I don't know how to ride a bike, nor do I want to learn. When I was younger, I was always forced to go to the annual block party. I HATED it. I hated the crowd and I hated the hyper little boys who used to ride and skateboard around me all the damn time. One time, I was walking with some Kool-Aid in my hand. All I was doing was crossing the street. It was some goodass Kool-Aid because it had all of my attention. I didn't even see the boy on the bike coming until he was damn near on top of me. I got ran over by a bike and the Kool-Aid went flying all over the street. Fuck My Life

Now I must give this wonderful award to five other bloggers.

AND THE WINNERS ARE...

1. Satara (haha)

2. Starz :)

3. ZIGGY!

4. Ashante :D

5. Steven ;-)

Enjoy.

Epiphany of the Day

Shout outs to all the people who actually read my blog.

The old and the new.

You guys make me actually wanna write more entries :)

And it's so weird. This followers thing. It reminds me of people actually listening to me.

Shocker.

Anywhoo, I blogstalk enough to know that when one is randomly looking through a person's blog, something about it must stand out.

Something has to be interesting to catch someone's eye to make them want to read more.

Or follow you.

And frankly I feel that

that

is alot

of effing pressure!

I mean I'll gladly give my readers something to read but what about all those unknown faces I want to reach out to?

I've been on alot of people's blogs and left feeling like I just wasted my time trying to see if this person's point of view is something that interests me.

It's like you have to have 1 impressive blog up, thats RECENT and isn't old. (you have to be REALLY special to make me go through all of your old posts).

That's why I love you guys who actually sit there and read my pyscho babble.

I could be boring and bland and sucky

or just not your cup of tea.

But there you guys are. To my right. Gradually building in size.

I have 28 followers today.

Tomorrow who knows?

Maybe we could build an army.

Yes?

Yes???

No?

Fiiiine.

But I'll be back with that idea!

CAT EARS!

CAT EARS!!!

Some small part of me (deep, deep down in the trenches of my being) thinks that I should not be this damn excited over some damn cat ears.

What am I 7?

Well at heart...

I'm actually only 9.

CAT EARS!!!!

Inspiration of the Day

Freedom is not merely the opportunity to do as one pleases; neither is it merely the opportunity to choose between set alternatives. Freedom is, first of all, the chance to formulate the available choices, to argue over them -- and then, the opportunity to choose.
C. Wright Mills

For everyone in my life who keeps bringin those negative vibes...

The light's green babe.

You can GO.

Sweet Nanny Strikes Again

So I go to see my grandma in the nursing home/rehab center where she is staying for the moment...

And of course she just gives me another story to tell.

Me: (kissing grandma on the cheek) I love you Grandma

Grammy: (squirming) yeah yeah

Me: (still kissing) You're so cute! I love you so much

Grammy: (still squirming) Yeah I heard you, get the hell off me now

Me:....NO! (kisses cheek more fiercely) I LOVE YOU!

Grammy: (looks me straight in the eye) Yeah you gonna love my fist in your face too.

Me:................

O_O

-_-

(bemused face)

Me: Why you always gotta do me like that ma?

Grandma: (insert evil laughter here)

Look at her. Lookin all innocent.

She ain't sweet goddammit!!

Random...

Haat16 : dude penetrating thoughts sounds like mindfuck
blackivy103 : it IS !
Haat16 : ooooooooooo cuz every time i see it i giggle
blackivy103 : lol this makes me want a cookie
Haat16 : ?
blackivy103 : mind fucking always leaves me hungry
Haat16 : o it just leaves me feeling bloated and confused
blackivy103 : lmfaoooo

Compliments of aim. I thought it was funny.

Insomnia

"You have managed to turn me from a woman of substance into this"-Jill Scott

Insomnia - Jill Scott

I like those unattainable men.

The ones that fight so hard that you can never tell how sensitive they really are.

I like the ones who joke around too much.

The ones who let themself become ruled by the streets

even though

the streets can never love them like I do.

I like men who disappear.

And this applies to all of the people I've dated

slept with

Or had an emotional connection to.

I like those men who keep me up at night

crying

dreaming

holding my stomach

trying to calm down those persistent butterflies.

I don't like christmas gifts

I don't like saying hi drive bys

I don't like anxiety.

I don't like sleeping.

...well now that those random thoughts are over....

All of that was inspired by Jill Scott's Insomnia, A conversation with my friend Six and A dream I had a week ago.

And these next lines will forever haunt me. I will always relate to them. And I'm not sure if I will ever be grateful for that.

Thanx Aaron.

(time to wake up, put on my strong face and hope that no one will know)

You have managed to turn me from a woman of substance

Into A

Brick Flying

Calling too damn much

Crying and crying

Spying

Way down down low

With flats on

From the opposite side of the bar

Easy Off

Loaded on top of your car

Chick.

I never intended to be this chick.

Groping at smoke for her mind

Or the readily dissolving remnants of it

After being chased

I've been dismissed

As just an object

Something to play with

You have managed to turn me

From a woman of substance

Into this.

Inspiration of the Day

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. people change so that you can learn to let go. things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right. you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself. and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." -Marilyn Monroe

So as I was sitting here procrastinating by looking for myspace layouts

(hush all, it relaxes me)

I stumbled across that quote.

I was feeling really shitty before I read that (shitty for my own actions and shitty for wishing that people could sometimes change how and who they are) but for some odd reason it made me feel better.

I felt acceptance.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't feel like I'm invincible or ready to take on anything.

Shit, I don't even really think I'm strong enough to deal with some things.

But whatever is coming, is coming. Regardless of whether I sit and brood about it.

So I can embrace it, procrastinate a little more, sit and cry, try and sleep it off.

Or keep that quote in mind as I face something big in my life today.

I'm gonna go with the latter.

Thanx Monroe.