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Real Talk
Ever since I was a little girl, I have realized that people will continue to disappoint you if you let them. It all started when I was in middle school with my best friend. And when I say best friend, I mean like, we used to spend the night over at each others’ houses every weekend, going to the mall, all that shit. She was in all my classes at school, we ate lunch together, basically being attached at the hip. Then, she started dating this guy (who turned out to be a drug addict, but um, that’s a whole different story) that she met at our local hangout, the skating rink (you know you went!).
I understood that things were going to have to change–however, I was met with unreturned phone calls and distant behavior. I saw her at school, but it basically just wasn’t the same. So there I was, a girl on the peak of adolescence (ie moods swings, hating your parents, all that angry shit), who had just lost her best friend. Sometimes, I would sit in my room and write poetry about how sad I was (sorry to be super gay about this right now). I still had friends, but it just wasn’t the same–everyone in middle school is petty and weird, and it was hard for me to think people were still on my side, especially since I was the only black girl in my classes. Some of the kids called me an Oreo, the black kids in school called me white. I didn’t fit in anywhere.
Then one day, weirdly, my ex-best friend called me to tell me she had broken up with her boyfriend after like, a year. Unfortunately, by that time it was a little too late–our bond was broken forever. We went to the same high school and actually ended up having beef because she thought I started a certain, er, rumor about her (because everyone knew we used to be besties), but I didn’t–we just weren’t on the same level anymore. I was on dance team in high school and had a bunch of friends–but these kids had either all gone to middle school or grew up together, and who was I? I only had one friend that I had really been buds with all my life, but she was younger than me and we went to different schools all the time. I will also admit, I was a little BITCH to her when we were little, so I’m glad she still fucks with me! And then I saw how many of the girls either would gang up on someone or talk trash behind their friends’ backs–I admit, I did some of that, but I also learned to not trust people, because I had no idea what they were saying about me.
My dad once told me, “Honey, don’t trust people. They’ll smile in your face and you’ll think they really care about you, then they’ll stab you in the back like you’re nothing.”
What kind of father says that to his 16-year old daughter?! Jesus. So then, I go to a top ten school (ie where the fakest people go to school). I saw some of the fakest shit I have EVER seen in my life–blatant lying about people, backstabbing, all because people just wanted to have their way, or get something they couldn’t get. I will admit though, while I was in college I made some of my closest friends that I hope to keep my entire life, so I thank them for that. However, it took me knowing them for YEARS, them telling me the truth when I am being a butthole and sticking by me when I needed them for me to trust them. Many of my good friends say I have a “three strikes and you’re out rule” with people. That’s mostly true, unless I have a reason to think that your intentions are truly good deep down (AND IF YOU APOLOGIZE YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKERS). And unfortunately, for most people, I don’t really feel that way.
People often call me an asshole, and sorry, I am brutally honest with people, but it’s because I want to make sure they know how I feel about them straight up and I don’t want them to think I’m something I’m not. I don’t want to be fake to someone and they’ll think they’re my best friend. Then one day, they’ll find out that I never really liked them in the first place. I’ve felt like that, and no matter how much I don’t like you, I guarantee you’ll be hurt way more if you think I have your back to begin with.
That’s really all I have for today. Always keep it real, no matter how much people might not like it. Wait. I sort of take that back. Please don’t ever tell someone how they should be. Remember, you have no idea where they are coming from and your views on life may be VERY different. However, it is okay to have a conversation with your friend and ask them why they’re the way they are, and maybe tell them it’s not a good look–but mapping out someone’s life for them is neither necessary nor your place.
K, xoxo
Filed under: Friends | Leave a Comment
Tags: friendship, life, trust
I always find it interesting that women are considered the weaker sex, but in reality, men are really the biggest pussies out there. Why, you ask? Maybe because…I dunno, they think they can get away with being upset about shit that women would look absolutely PSYCHO if they got upset about. Yea, I fucking said it. Get over it and man up. Let’s look at the act of being led on. And no, I don’t mean when a guy is trying to buy a girl flowers, take her out, buy her gifts, etc etc and then she says she can’t date him because she fell in love with a guy name Fabio. I’m talking about when a guy wants to sleep with her, he thinks he can do it, but for some reason, he doesn’t get to. And then he FLIPS OUT. Christian Bale style. Dummy.
In these common occurrences, men paint the desired woman as a jezebel skank who flirted, wooed, hugged him enough to make him think she was going to drop her panties, but alas, she packed it up and went home at the end of the night. His friends get pissed at her, he stops speaking to her, he tells everyone that she has no feelings and is a tease. But I have two questions: 1) Can you really be mad, son? and 2) Can you blame us?
First of all, please do not act as if your feelings are involved. You don’t want to date us, you want to sleep with us. And ohhhh…sorry…guess what? We don’t give a fuck. Like, really dude? Sorry you didn’t get to “beat” (god I hate that word), but if a chick wants to sleep with you, she knows in what, the first 10 minutes? Yea, that’s probably right. But you can’t expect a chick to sleep with you just to make you feel better or to stroke your ego. We don’t really care that much. And why don’t we care? Because you fucking idiot, you don’t really care about us, you care about sleeping with us. Good enough? No. Let me stress this again–WE DON’T CARE. Let me process this for you–You were going to use us to get your rocks off, we know that so we denied you. WHY ARE YOU MAD? They have hookers for that, good lord.
Also, how many times have women been used for sex, and then the dude is never to be heard from again? Sorry to say, I’ve seen this happen WAY WAY too many times. It’s quite annoying. So, after all that bullshit, even if you don’t want to sleep with a girl just for the sake of it, there is no way that she is actually going to believe that unless you do something extraordinary. And no, buying her a drink and/or dinner is not out of the ordinary. How many guys can actually think of a way to show that they just don’t want the butt? Ding ding–you got it!!! NONE. Blame your own goddamn gender for being full of jackasses.
So, yea. In conclusion, next time you wanna be mad, take a good look at yourself. Remember that time you banged that chick you met at a football game because you were wasted and never called her again. Best believe, she went around and told all her friends what a dick you are, reiterating in their minds that men are just assholes and worthless pieces of life. So think about that. And leave her alone. And hey, maybe even turn gay, we won’t miss you. I have a couple of guys that would love to top you.
xoxo
Filed under: Dating, Do not Like, Losers, Love | 11 Comments
Tags: Dating, mating, men, sex
So, as I was watching ABDC tonight, I got SUPER CRUNK while Quest Crew did their thing. Seriously, it was so fucking amazing. I started crumping all over my apartment. No joke, it was that good. In addition, my boys Hok and Dom from So You Think You Can Dance are in this crew–and I LOVE them. I love them so hard!
Dom–Let’s be bffs.
Hok–Call me.
Anyway, I need to take my ass to bed, but I just wanted to post and tell everyone to vote for my boys!!! Go here to cast your vote.
Filed under: Love | 1 Comment
Tags: dance, quest crew
Uhhh so…yesterday my friend and I decided to do our early April Fool’s Day joke and tell everyone on Facebook that we were in a relationship. Obviously, many of my friends reacted how I expected them to: “You’re a damn fool, hush it up, foolishness.” Ah, gotta love the people who know you. HOWEVER, I also unfortunately received a slew of messages from people sending out their “congratulations” on my new relationship…wait, excuse me?? Last time I checked, getting a boy to be exclusive with you did NOT warrant congratulations, especially in DC, because everyone sucks anyway.
So, really, people, when the fuck did all my friends become boo junkies? Yes, I said it, a BOO JUNKIE. People obsessed with relationships and who love it when other people are in relationships, especially when they are (I guess because they can share the misery??). Now, let’s look at the definition of congratulate:
1archaic : to express sympathetic pleasure at (an event)2: to express vicarious pleasure to (a person) on the occasion of success or good fortune <graciously congratulated the winner> ; also : to feel pleased with <congratulating herself for a job well done>
I mean, I guess if you’re that pressed you can consider being in a relationship “good fortune,” but that’s really only if you’re not happy being alone. YES I SAID IT. Get off me–don’t be mad because I love my damn self. Based on this definition, let me give you some examples of events that warrant congratulations:
1. Winning the lottery
2. Curing AIDS/cancer/idiocy
3. Graduating from undergrad or getting your professional degree
4. Winning the war in Afghanistan
5. Getting a promotion or a new job
6. Losing an abundant amount of weight
7. Beating up your arch nemesis
8. Winning an Olympic medal
9. Finally finding a bikini that doesn’t make you look like a cow
10. Reversing global warming
And I got those from the Official Book of Congratulations, so don’t try to refute me. On the contrary, here are a list of items that do NOT warrant congratulations:
1. Breathing (unless you had stopped?)
2. Being able to spell your own name
3. Having the courage to tell someone you have herpes
4. Coming out of the closet
5. BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP
AT BEST, being in a relationship can get a “good for you, maybe someone else can put up with your wonky eye” or some shit like that. Let’s also point out that one of my friends cited this as an UPGRADE. A fucking UPGRADE–WHAT?!?! So, does this mean I was downgraded before? The only way I could see it as an upgrade is if I bagged a sugar daddy who moved me into a penthouse apartment and paid for my boob job. Otherwise, no thanks. Seriously, you guys are effin’ killing me. Goodness gracious. In fact, I’m going to leave that silly mess up there, just so I can see how many people will actually continue to believe I am a “functional” human being. Pshaw.
Filed under: Dating, Do not Like, Friends | Leave a Comment
Tags: Dating, relationships
Sooo, I’ve avoided commenting on this whole Jessica Simpson fiasco, mostly because I don’t really think she’s fat (although she did get thick) and I honestly don’t really care that her stylist should be fired for putting her in those horrid jeans with that horrid belt. However, I was recently watching E! News and they decided to do an entire segment on her jeans and how she called Level 99 to send her some “proper” Mom jeans to avoid that look again. Fine, okay. She wanted new jeans–I don’t give a shit. BUT THEN, they made a point (which I also found uncalled for) to mention what size she asked for when she ordered. And guess what size it was?! A SIZE 25.
Now, for those of you who don’t know what that means in American sizes, it means that Jessica Simpson is weighing in at a whopping size 0!!! And not that everyone needs to be a size 0, but how many of you believe that? **Raise your hand** Anyone?!?! **Crickets** Yea, uh, that’s what I thought. And who else is reported to be a size 0? Eva Longoria. Now this, I can believe-she’s tiny. But Jessica Simpson could eat Eva Longoria for an afternoon snack. Sorry, but there is no way they are the same size.
So now you’re asking, why does this anger me? Why do I care what size Jessica Simpson lies and says she is? I’ll tell you why: 1) Every celebrity who gets called fat comes out with a statement saying that they are proud to embrace their curves, but then turns around and boasts some tiny little size (think of JLH when she shot back at the media calling herself a size 2). As a result, millions of little girls begin to think that a size 0 is “curvy,” so they exercise and starve their way to look like this–all at the ripe old age of 11. Thanks, Jess. 2) I wonder how events like this make actual overweight people feel, or even not overweight–the women that are actually a size 8 and don’t run around cutting the tags off their jeans or marking a size 29 to look like a 25. Like really, what’s wrong with being a size 8? If you’re an 8, you’re an 8, Craig, you ain’t gots to lie. 3) The lie is so blatant, it’s utterly ridiculous. I swear, the chick on E! News couldn’t even say “25″ with a straight face, I promise. Once again, I’m not saying Jessica Simpson is fat, but girl, I saw that pocket of fat on your tricep when your arm was up (not against your side which yes, I know, makes your arm look fat). DO. NOT. LIE. TO. ME. And everyone who wants to talk about pictures and how the camera adds 10lbs…okay, so where’s the pocket of fat on all the other tiny celebs that claim to wear a 25? Riiiight…exactly.
I just find it super annoying that all these damn chicks are like, “How dare you call me fat! I wear this size, I weigh this much.” Instead, why don’t you dumb bitches say, “You know what, America? It’s none of your damn business what I weigh or what size I wear. I look absolutely fabulous, stop hatin’ and go fuck yourselves. Save that shit for LoHo will she’s starving herself on the coke diet.” Ah, and they would say that if they actually didn’t care. Which further proves my point that no one really wants to admit–
NO ONE WANTS TO BE THE FAT GIRL. I don’t want to be her, you don’t want to be her. NO ONE wants to be her. Just admit it, America. And after you do, put down the Taco Bell Grilled Stufft Burrito and take your ass to the gym. I’ll see you there.
Filed under: Do not Like | Leave a Comment
Tags: diet, jessica simpson, weight
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