What’s In Your Purse?

DISCLAIMER: I live and love the world of reality television. Period.

Now that that’s out of the way, did you see The Braxton Family Values last week? In case you missed or don’t watch it at all, Mrs. Evelyn (aka Mama Braxton) decided to call off her wedding to Doc. She had no better explanation besides the fact that marriage simply wasn’t in her plans at the moment. I understand that.

So Mrs. E went to visit the family therapist to ‘discuss’ her decision since it was weighing heavily on her heart. As I’m watching, I notice the therapist isn’t saying much but rather agreeing with Mrs. E about doing what’s right for her! And Mrs. E said something that sparked this blog. Allow me to paraphrase: “I tell people I got married when I was 2. (laughter) That means I was very young when I committed my life to someone, and since then, I’ve always put other people before me. It’s time for me to put ME first and do what I want to do! To make ME happy.”

Isn’t that a mouthful?! I love Mrs. E because, much like my own Mom, she’s living some dreams now that the kids are grown-up and out of the house. Also, Mrs. E’s words makes me want to ‘slap the piss‘ out of many women my age. She explained that, although Doc made her very happy, she didn’t need him for her happiness. *pause*

Oprah Winfrey talks about finding happiness and love all the time through her website, shows, and magazines. She’s also a prominent figure in the single world. Y’all know she ain’t legally married to Steadman. And I doubt for one second she’s unhappy about the decision not to marry him! That’s because women like Mrs. E and Oprah have lived long enough to fully understand that they don’t need a man to make them happy.

Did you desperate broads hear what I just said? YOU DON’T NEED A MAN TO MAKE YOU HAPPY. I get so frustrated talking with my guy-friends about clingy/needy/jealous/weak/whack women they meet. And the same frustration turns to disgust when my lady-friends ‘wish’ they had a man to make them happy. *banging head against the desk* How stupid does that sound? True happiness is internal. Think about it.

If you can wake up in the morning excited about some fancy shoes or panties you just bought, you’re probably happy. But if you ‘wish’ you had someone to show your shoes/panties to—which would make you happy, you’re probably psycho. And you’re going to be miserable if your search for a mate is speared by your need for someone to give you joy.

It’s time for us as women to be more proactive in our own satisfaction. That way, when you meet someone and it doesn’t work, you don’t feel like you’ve completely missed out when they decide to ditch you! Example: Guy sees girl in line at Starbucks. Girl is obviously overwhelmed with work and life stress as she shuffles through her large work bag to find her wallet. Guy offers to pay her $4.40 coffee tab and slides a $5 bill toward the cashier. Girl thinks she’s found the man of her dreams as she hasn’t been on a date in 4 months. Guy has been waiting 6 minutes for her to decide on a drink and slid the $5 so she could finally get out of the line. Girl flashes several smiles at Guy as he leaves Starbucks without asking for her number.

Okay maybe that example was a bit OverTheTop.com, but you catch my drift! And I’m sure you can personally name at least 2 females like this. Us women are direct displays of how we internally handle life’s stress (we’ll talk about this later). A lot of times, when a great guy sees women like her coming, he turns in the other direction to avoid her tornado of sadness emotions coming at him. And just like that girl at Starbucks, we need to get it together.

Am I saying just because your wallet is buried beneath your laptop and 22 manila folders in your bag that you’re unhappy? No! I’m saying that if you take the time to organize the shit in both your bag AND your life, you might begin to have happier days. And maybe, just maybe, the guy behind you (who has already taken you on 6.5 dates & mentally “hit it” 72 times) might ask for your number.

Now go buy yourself a nice pair at Aldo, hit up Victoria’s Secret, and really enjoy being with YOU. Because if you don’t, no one else will.

*Turns up volume on TLC’s “Silly Ho”*

Been Around The World And Ay-i-i-i

If you’re wondering where I am in my exciting life, I’m on the east coast. Many may say I’m in the south, but as a midwest girl, I call this the east coast. I’m in North Carolina for a while doing work (don’t ask, can’t tell). I’m facing extreme culture shock here! And it is almost as bad as my shock when I first moved to LA; but people here are way too nice and I’m getting nervous.

When you walk into a restaurant, everyone greets you. The people waiting in line, the hostess, the servers at other tables. People walking by on the street. The housekeeper in the hotel. The guy on the next pump at the gas station…EVERYone! This is strange.

Also, everything is so cheap. The food is like $7 for a meal that I’m used to paying $13 for. And I swear the cook drives it through a tasty bucket of grease and sin before it hits my plate. Everything is delicious in the south/east. Besides the inexpensive food, there are free shuttles throughout the downtown areas during busy times. Really? The only thing LA seems to be handing out for free is STDs and sand on the beach.

So yesterday was this big, record-breaking St. Patrick’s Day pub crawl. And coincidentally, my day off. Winning. I paid my $20 for all-access to 60+ bars in the area and that’s where it all began! I’m used to seeing mobs of (white) people at Fair St. Louis during the 4th of July. But what I saw at the pub crawl was a new set of (white) people. They were wearing cowboy/cowgirl boots with their blue jean mini skirts. And yes, they cut their tshirts into belly shirts or halter tops. The guys were wearing suspenders with their shirts tucked into khaki shorts. Kate Spade bags hung from ladies’ arms. Bangs were swooped and hairsprayed across faces. Somewhere in the USA, all of this is fashionable.

The girls were kissing/dancing on each other like it was MTV’s Spring Break, and there were more redhead women than I’d ever seen in life. Is this what it means to be Irish?

After several (who’s keeping count?) $3 Bud Lights and the setting sun, I decided it was time to go while I could still stand on my own two feet. I guess now’s a good time to mention I had a record number of (white) guys approach me that day. One of them even took a picture with me. I’d like to think it’s because I am celebrity and I’m just-so-hott, but he probably needed evidence that a (black) girl actually danced with him. Thanks to Bud Light, he has some great pictures.

And in case you’re wondering, yes, they still play that one Petey Pablo song.

Genuine or Ginuwine…And Dine

I know what you're thinking. And quit looking at me like that.

In case you didn’t know, I have full lyrics to thousands of songs in my head. I have no idea how this came to be, either. All I know is that I can listen to any of my stations on Pandora for 12-hours a day everyday & sing along to each song (wanna try me?) and my iTunes is about 3000 songs deep. Yep. I know all of them.

So today when Ginuwine’s “Last Chance” shuffled through on Tony!Toni!Tone! Radio, it brought back memories of me rolling in my Jeep down Santa Monica Blvd. Where was I headed? Glad you asked.

I met a guy (let’s call him Theo) at a beach party some friends threw in summer ’09. This is after I had relocated, so I was a mere infant to LA lifestyle and fresh outta college. When I saw Theo, I gasped a classic *girrrrrl look at his chest* as he and his friend walked past our blanket. I was with a girlfriend who co-signed the bulge of his biceps. I’m a sucker. Long story short, I got his number & we scheduled a date.

In college, a ‘date’ means we meet in the lobby of our dorm & walk to the dining hall together, right? PAUSE: Now before you go judging me, please be aware that I’m fully grown now & I can whoop your ass. But due to the fact that I’m saving for an ES-350, I don’t have bail money, so I won’t fight you. Go ahead, judge me. RESUME: Yes, I fell for Theo’s age-old classic dinner-at-my-house game. I was actually excited this hot dude invited little, country Rhonda Mae over!

He opened the door (fully clothed might I add; I was expecting more TRICEPS!) and I was surprised by his small studio apartment. I figured nice car = status. But whatever. This means he invited me to sit on the only chair in his apartment (his bed), I declined. I said, “Why don’t I just hangout in this half-kitchen? I’ll talk while you finish cooking.” So far, I’m winning.

About 45-minutes had passed while Theo tried his best to whip up meatless spaghetti with garlic bread. And I was laughing at his poor effort. He refused my help but managed to ask me to open the drawer near me and hand him a potholder. I pulled out the drawer and a beautiful array of golden-wrapped condoms was inside.

Me: Ummmmmm…really?

Theo: I mean, where else would I put them? It’s a drawer, right?

Me: Maybe in the bathroom? Or by your bed?

Theo: I like ’em in the kitchen. *grins, smirks*

I was not intrigued by his immature, blatant attempt at gettin’ some. I was also starting to get hungry since there was no eye candy on display. Meanwhile, Magnum Theo is losing on his quest for a potholder.

Once the sloppy spaghetti and burnt garlic toast was done, he invited me to dine on the roof. Said there was a pool and a great view up there (duh, it’s a roof). We sat poolside, picked over the food, and held standard “first date” convo. I started to yawn. Not only did he quote Diddy twice, but his lisp was starting to sound the elderly pervert from Family Guy. Turned off.

So we went back inside and I reached for my purse to find my keys. He asked, “You’re leaving that quick?” I replied, “Yeah, I gotta catch Chipotle before they close.” Theo insisted, “I mean I can order a pizza, my bad on the dinner HAAAA! C’mon, let’s watch a movie. I got all the classics.” My eyes rolled like my pupils were compass needles looking for north. “Alright.”

I walk over to sit on the bed and Theo is already quoting lines from what he says is his favorite movie. Then, he put “Boomerang” in the DVD player. He did a yeah-Im-about-to-score dance from the TV to the bed, sat down next to me and said, “Oh you didn’t know? This movie is about me! I AM Marcus Graham!!” Roll opening credits. Cue Rhonda’s exit. And no, I won’t text you when I make it home.

I’m driving home thinking–no he didn’t think I was gonna drop my panties for a cheap (disgusting) dinner? Who does that? Wait a minute, I know who does that. The kind of girl who would’ve gotten excited seeing the condoms in the kitchen! Well that ain’t me, but I knew what I was getting into when Theo invited me over. I was just hoping he was a little less whack.com so I could have a juicy story to tell y’all.

*Turns up volume on 100% Ginuwine*

Football talk

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