Dear Joe...

On a lighter note. Lets all be happy that this man is not your father. Oh and please, see below article on proper condom use. See you on Maury :)

Ahh Fathers Day. A day to honor the wonderful men in our lives. The ones who have passed on their great legacies unto us. Given us their last names. Provided us with a roof over our head and food on the table. The ones who have sent us to therapy for our "daddy" issues. sidenote: Hello unavailable, emotionally distant, workaholic men. Please thank my Dad for making me fall for you. lol My dad was very typical. Cold. Distant. Left all the "child raising" shit to my mother. So I find it strange that he's actually had a bigger influence on who I am than she has. I find myself physically and mentally more and more like him every day that I get older. I guess when you spend your whole life trying to chase after someone's love, you get to know then on a unique level. I remember me going through his bookshelf. Reading every single book he had. Going through and stealing all his old records. Reading his old newspaper articles from the Korean War. Looking through his...

"I just want to go back to the Wu-Tang years. Those were the greatest." -myself. Wednesday night. "You're such a 90's baby." -P.M. few weeks ago. There is no doubt in my mind that the years between...ahhh lets say 92-98 were the best for music. (not of ALL times of course. But the best years I actually LIVED through.) I dont know if it was just a combination of me being an adolescent..which means that I "FELT" everything so strongly. (I remember when i lost all the eyelashes in my right eye from a freak eyelash curler incident, and refused to go to school for a week.) Or maybe it was just because that's when artists were still able to make money by actually RECORDING an album. (none of this online download shit. 1.99 per song b.s. on itunes. I still give Pearl Jam huge kudos for taking the first stand against Napster. I only wish more artists would have followed.) These were the times when everything was working in conjunction together. When Mt...

You are stuck at work. All day. Especially Monday. After a wonderful weekend. And all you want to do is be anywhere but here. You actually drive past the inmates from the county jail picking up trash on the side of the road, and get a bit envious. At least they get to be outside all day. You however, are stuck within the confines of your cubicle. Or in my case, make-shift desk stuck against a wall. You sit there and watch everybody rushing back and forth. Busy important calls. Faxing, receiving faxes. Computer keys flicking away a mile a minute. (Or more specifically 60 wpm) Just a fury of office excitement. Everyone all cracked out from that awesome “office” coffee. From the “community” coffee pot. Lord only knows when the last time that thing has been cleaned. Lord knows what kind of discounted defective coffee beans were put into that chemical mess of black tar you are drinking. And you sit it the middle of this and just CAN NOT get motivated. You phone is ringing and you just CAN N...

So I saw a Facebook comment today, that literally made me pause. It was just so wrong on so many levels. It was like 8 paragraphs long. It was written in all caps. It was terribly personal. And it just left me walking away from the page saying to myself...who really fucking cares? I mean..do you not own a cell phone? I know you are all hype about the events from the night before...but this is not your personal blog sir? Nobody else cares? And then it occurred to me. Some people need to take a Facebook etiquette class. And so, obviously, who better than a FB/Twitter/Over-all general social networking addict like me, to provide a manual. "I been in this game for years, it made me a animal Its rules to this shit, I wrote me a manual A step by step booklet for you to get Your game on track, not your wig pushed back..." C. Wallace. Rule Numero Uno: Do Not Write in All-Caps: I mean I thought everyone knew this? Did it really need to be said? Caps are to be used for emphasis only. F...

Walnut street. 7 am. Blasting Jimi Hendrix (Stone Free was played about 36 times) with all windows down to air out some suspect odor that has developed in my car. I think it’s a mix of spilled coffee, an old renegade French fry, cigarettes, knock off Jean Paul Gautier perfume with just a tint of hopelessness. So as I’m driving around all recklessly, scaring very professional looking white men as I zoom by with no side mirror, faulty window wipers and huge ass sunglasses (with no sun in sight) I replayed the whole night. And somehow, through the tint of my $5 Canal St. lenses, and smudged blue eye shadow, it became pretty damn clear what I was going through. It’s a sadly familiar situation for me. My friends always say I need a reality show. Or that maybe I’m a victim of reality shows. Every scene that occurs in my life never feels like “reality”. It all feels scripted. Like there should be a Dashboard Confessional song playing in the background, and a little location description on th...

Soooo I'm sitting here, regular Wednesday night...eating some whole wheat pasta (yes its gross but see previous blog about my ever growing muffin top lol) having a nice glass of red wine...when I decide to take a look at dontdatehimgirl.com I've known about this website for a while...there was some buzz about it a few years ago. Lots of lawsuits and angry men...but in the end the freedom of speech prevailed and this website remains. So I took a gander on the site...just to see if I recognized anyone...just out of boredom...and GOTTTTT DAYUMMMMM. These broads are out of line. Or are they? First of all PRAISE JESUS I've never dated any of these men. And trust me, I have dated MORE than a few men that deserve to be listed on this site. But I believe in getting revenge the old fashion way. You know. Busted windows. Bleached clothes. The normal shit (i kid i kid) LOL. But really though. There comes a point in every woman's life, where you have to take responsibility for your...