I Can’t Stand The Rain

screen-shot-2017-02-03-at-1-14-20-pm

I live in Los Angeles and this winter has been filled with gloomy precipitation. Not figuratively, but actual inches of rain. One night, it stormed so badly, rainwater seeped through my bedroom window and woke me up with a splash. That is a pretty random occurrence when you sleep alone… OH right… remember that guy from my last blog post in 2013?

Well we broke up. I spent the past 3+ years going through quite a rocky relationship. In December 2015 he proposed and about six months later I gave the ring back. Boo-hoo. Sad story. Don’t worry, though. I won’t waste your time with the details because there are funner (yeah, funner) things to talk about!

I’m back on my single shit and dating has gotten MUCH more interesting since I’ve learned a few more tricks. If you are at all interested in my dating escapades, stay tuned. But if you’re the subject of one of these stories, I promise I won’t publish your name.

Furthermore, the ‘New Edition Story‘ which aired on BET in January was quite possibly the best three nights of my television history. I mean, nothing had me glued to the screen more than The Box, Orange Is the New Black, and every episode of Flavor of Love. Luke James (blesssss that man and everything he pursues in life!) as Johnny Gill had me on fire. And still does. Kudos to the entire cast; they were spot on.

But can I just vent for a moment? The boys sang “Can You Stand the Rain” (like no other rendition you’ve ever heard, might I add) and I got caught in my feelings. The lyrics say:

On a perfect day I know that I can count on you
When that’s not possible, tell me, can you weather the storm?
‘Cause I need somebody who will stand by me
Through the good times and the bad times
She will always, always be right there
Sunny days – everybody loves them
Tell me, baby, can you stand the rain?
Storms will come, this we know for sure
Can you stand the rain?
Love unconditional I’m not asking this of you
And, girl, to make it last I’ll do whatever needs to be done
But I need somebody who will stand by me
When it’s tough she won’t run
She will always be right there for me.
Speaking on behalf of my last relationship, how long is it supposed to rain? Los Angeles has no idea where to store all of our water and we are still in a drought. Seattle gets rain damn near daily and it suits them fine. But rain in a relationship–are we supposed to ALWAYS BE RIGHT THERE? Hmm. Thoughts?

Rhonda’s Favorite Things 2012

Everybody gets a car!!!!!!

Everybody gets a car!!!!!!

I’m Oprah, bi-yatch!

Ok, no I’m not Big O. But the idea is pretty damn awesome, gotta admit. So in an attempt to be cool and famous, I’ve glued myself to Oprah Winfrey Network in efforts to gain my chance at winning something. Anything.

Needless to say, that isn’t going so well for me. So…in yet another attempt to be cool and famous, I’m listing my favorite things just like she did! But, I won’t be giving out anything to you mofos, though, except a few random gifts to my family members. I just want you guys to get inside my head a little bit. Anyhooo–let’s get started!

1) MacBook Pro (and basically anything from Apple). The people who create these devices are either greedy geniuses or evil antichrists. Take your pick. Either way, this is the best thing I’ve spent my money on all year. It has something like 500GB of storage space so I have plenty of room to store my awesome music collection and natural hair pictures. I could go on. Basically if you don’t have one, then you’re losing. If you already own a Mac, then you’re going to hell with me for supporting this giant antichrist. #winning

apple-macbook-pro

2) Aeropostale sweats. I don’t know if they are made from butter-enhanced wool and cotton, but they sure feel like it. It is by far the most comfortable sweatsuit I’ve ever owned. Did I wear these all through high school and college when they were “in?” No. Don’t judge me, I running a little late for everything. But on the days where I want a little less booty jiggle visibility (i.e. while wearing velour sweatsuits), these are the remedy. And I caught them on sale during Black Friday.

Aero Sweats

3) Ta Boom Brazilian Food Truck’s Straganoff Burrito. Yes you read that correctly. One sweet day in LA, I had a super empty stomach. I craved something filling, like Mexican food, but who really WANTS Mexican? Exactly. This food truck pulled up to our office and a smile hit my face. Not only was I offered a full serving of Chicken Straganoff, but they would roll it into a burrito along with rice. You know what that’s called? #winning

burrito

4) Four Seasons Resort Maui. THE definition of luxurious vacation. Was I on vacay? No. I was working. But that doesn’t discredit this place’s magnificent views, superb restaurants, and hardworking concierge service. All rooms feature satellite radio built into the wall of the bathroom (which was basically built for *cough, cough* honeymoon sex…) and a terrycloth robe. I didn’t want to leave the room except to lay by the pool and be served margaritas.

FSMaui

5) Jordan Retro #9 My first pair. This means I’m no longer a Jordan-virgin and now I’m addicted. My collection is building rather nicely. More to come, so stay tuned.

jordan 9

6) American Apparel leggings. I got my first pair in 2008 and they still fit the same. This calls for a celebration, and by that I mean purchasing more leggings. For my ladies out there who know how difficult it is to find a good pair that isn’t too tight on the waist, doesn’t show through to your panties, and has a decent amount of Spandex to hold you in…I’ve found the solution. Look no further! And at $15 a pair & every color ever, feel free to splurge a little. I have black, grey, teal, purple, and red.

american apparel leggings

7) MAC Studio Fix Powder. I’m not really big on makeup, bur for special occasions, I do dab a little in painting my face. And I’ve gotten pretty decent at doing so. My absolute go-to is this powder. Why? Because it can be used on a clean face, versus on top of foundation and still get the job done. Plus, after just a few swipes, I achieve the look I need without feeling clownish. For better coverage and blending, use a kabuki brush (not the sponge applicator which makes it look caked on).

mac studio fix

macface

8) Delta Airlines ginger cookies by Biscoff. Simply a little taste of heaven. That’s it.

deltacookies

9) EDEN Bodyworks Temple Balm. Got an itchy scalp? Thinning edges? Looking for a light pomeade? Well this product does all of it. Doesn’t contain mineral oil or other heavy products that cause build up on the scalp. And it leaves you with a tingling sensation from a key ingredient: peppermint oil. Try it out, let me know what you think.

templebalmsm

Why MJ Always Wore White Socks

Shuhh-mon outta that bathroom!

When I was younger, I would spend the weekend at my aunt’s house to play with my cousin. And just like every black family, we all went to church together on Sunday morning.

These were the days your 5-minute-shower skills got tested.

One morning, my cousin was being particularly mischievous. He was toying with his food at breakfast, still had Legos scattered across his room from yesterday, and was cutting into the next person’s “turn” for the bathroom. He’d already been in there ten minutes and the shower was not yet running However, he was incessantly killing singing the chorus to Kirk Franklin’s “Silver and Gold,” which insinuated foot-dragging.

*Auntie bangs on the bathroom door*

“Boy? You better be almost done, Dad needs to get in there! Now you got five minutes. And I mean FIVE!!”

Faintly, I could hear the water from the bathroom sink start to flow as I listened from the kitchen. I sat in a chair battling a lint ball on my crisp white tights (for the average 7-year old girl, this conflict ends in a hole). In the corner, Auntie stroked the iron across my cousin’s button-up shirt. It was children’s choir Sunday.

Not even three minutes had passed before the bathroom door swung open. My cousin rushed past us in the kitchen while holding a ball of dirty clothes to cover his privates. Auntie put the iron away then grabbed a nearby switch off the counter (note: for my readers who aren’t old school, this is a switch–skip to 4:07). She follows behind my cousin toward his room waving the switch in the air, “Now what did I tell you to do?”

Cousin innocently looks up at Auntie and shrugs, “What?”

She points the switch at him with each word. “I said get in that bathroom and take care of your business! It don’t take that long! And did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?!”

“Yes ma’am, I did.”

Auntie grabs the starched shirt off the ironing board.  She slathers Vaseline on his scrawny legs then drapes an undershirt over his frail shoulders.

“AND DID YOU CHANGE YOUR SHORTS??!!”

“Yes ma’am, I did.”

My ears perked. I knew Auntie could tell that there was not a single drop of water on his back, thus insinuating he didn’t even get in the shower. I had no idea what “shorts” she was referring to, but I knew my cousin was in big trouble.

Fast forward to this day in 2012. I just finished watching Spike Lee’s “Bad 25” on ABC. In just about every clip/picture/scene/flashback, Michael Jackson is wearing his famous penny loafers with clean white socks. Neither the shoes nor the socks bother me; I’m stuck at the flooding pants. It’s so obvious that all of his trousers were tailored two inches above his ankles (did that become a fad? I don’t recall).

Well since I haven’t heard any sort interview (ever) to explain why MJ made this his trademark, I’ve come to this conclusion: long ago, little Michael was procrastinating in the bathroom on a Sunday morning. Katherine went in his room to scold him. She glanced down at his dingy socks and shrieks, “DID YOU CHANGE YOUR SOCKS??!!” He timidly replied, “Yes ma’am, I did.”

She says, “No you didn’t, or they would be sparklin’ white.” Little Michael tried to plead his case, but just wasn’t winning (he mistakenly grabbed Randy’s socks instead of his own). And since that day, he reassured Katherine daily that he did change socks by making sure she could see them. And they were indeed sparklin’ white.

May you rest in Heaven—

Michael Jackson

Julius K. Moore

There’s A Lot To Be Said In Silence

Silence Is Golden

Life stinks.

Shit happens.

Oh well.

Move on.

You’re cute!

Damn you.

That’s life.

Give up!

Hold on.

Back up.

Dust off.

That hurt.

What’s that?

Get it.

808s and Cheesecake

I hate cheesecake. All kinds. Never liked it.

But you know what people say when tell I them that? “Oh, that’s because you haven’t tried the (fill in the blank) kind,” or “Oh, that’s because you haven’t tried mine.” Well guess what? I’ve tasted them all.

As a chocolate lover, I did those first: cookies ‘n’ cream, Snickers, chocolate chip, etc. But I don’t eat anything with fruit topping or filling, and I don’t like caramel. So that pretty much eliminates all other varieties!

But dislike for this indulgence places me in a unique category that further defines my being. And I’m pretty damn satisfied with it! Nothing you can say/do/try will sway me to other side, which can cause me to reconsider my viewpoints. How dare you do such a thing…and try to change me.

Boy, I could write a book from this. But I’ll refrain.

I get so sick and tired of people trying to change me! If I say I’m one way or another, let’s just leave it at that. Ex: I have a strict weight requirement for the men I date, so NO I don’t wanna meet your scrawny ass co-worker. When I go out on the town heels are mandatory, so NO I didn’t pack flip-flops in my purse. I have sported my natural hair for more than a year now, so NO I don’t want your ‘weave specialist’ recommendation.

Bottom line is this: it took me a while to like Me for Me. And now that I do, I’m sticking with her. She’s the chick who gets excited when hearing bass coming from a 745Li down the block. She’s the chick who genuinely watches Rams games. She’s the girl who only shaves her legs only when they’re going to be exposed.

And that’s perfectly ok.

Got A Lot Of Earrings? Easy Organizer

can never have too many

I’m all for practical solutions to everyday problems. And for ladies like myself who love to accessorize, finding efficient ways to organize all your jewelry becomes challenging. For me, earrings were a problem. I need them all (yes need) and I continue to buy more until one day…I’ll eventually end up with 365 pair. And then some.

Anyway, I saw this idea posted on another blog and decided to give it a try. I used these splatter screens from Target for about $5 per pair. I made sure to get the cheap ones because the wires move/adjust to the size of my earring part-that-goes-in-your-ear-hole. The $15 ones are a bit more sturdy, but have less holes. To secure it to the wall, I used white plastic hooks (like the ones to hang Christmas decor). And if you look closely, the little green bags have my earring-backs (on the left) and smaller studs and clip-ons in the other (on the right).

Not a bad idea! And in case you’re wondering, yes, I’ve bought a 3rd screen since then. Love my earrings.

Twenty-inch Blades on the Impala

I’ve been cursed with the gift of stupid intelligence. That means I can figure out the square root of -1 in less than five seconds, and maybe even invent the world’s first triangular wheel. But my stupidity comes into play because I can never answer the ‘why’ or ‘how’. For example, duh, when cool air meets warm air, it creates a tornado. But how? Does the warm air never get the chance to cool down before it meets cold air? And vice versa? Why doesn’t the tornado make it out of the Great Plains area to places like California? I’m so smart, but I always wonder way too much and that creates stupid questions.

My biggest headache is trying to decode the lives of groupies, rich guys’ girlfriends/wives, and the like. I’m puzzled! I can not–for the life of me–figure out what makes a woman abandon her goals and dreams for instant (or long term) gratification ’cause I know it ain’t love. Put on your seatbelts; I’m about to go there.

Ever heard of NBA All-Star Weekend? Good. So I don’t need elaborate on why it’s nicknamed The Gold-Digger Convention. Chicks spend their time, money, and hard-earned resources to get dolled up in hopes of snagging a baller. And I use the term baller lightly ’cause that major league money is bound to run out & he’ll need another source of income (see: Magic Johnson or Bob Whitfield). Women attend all the parties with the hottest stars, you know nobody goes to the game, and the ultimate goal is what? To wiggle your way into VIP for free drinks? Or the notion that somebody like Rick Ross or Russell Westbrook will wife you for the night? You mean to tell me all that’s all they want? It can’t be.

Let’s just say, ok, Russell sees you from afar and invites you to his booth. Score: liquor and some dark, blurry pics. He’s so captivated by you that he wants to take you out the next day, so you give him your number. That date leads to several dates, and he eventually proposes. Follow this picture I’m painting… Years later you’re living the high life with 2.5 kids by him and all the luxuries your closet can hold. Marble kitchen counters, manicured lawns, Louis bags, and all that jazz. Congratulations! On the outside, it seems you’ve gotten everything many people only wish for. Who knows what’s REALLY going on behind closed doors, though.

But now what? What do you do all day? Where’s your job? What happens when Russell retires and your vag dries up, how will you sustain? Do a lot of people comment on the pictures when you upload them to Facebook? Are you happy that the losing women might be jealous of you? I seriously don’t get it.

Let’s not forget the pretend-ballers also. These are the guys who get girls by association. They “look” the part, or they were seen “hanging” with Drake. Nah, son. Women don’t really like you, you just smell good and might get them closer to Drake. (Note: they ALL wear great cologne, trust me. It helps them get more cooch). Now that I think about it…the pretend-ballers are the real winners here. But back to my point.

All that glitters isn’t gold, but I’m convinced I’m missing the bigger picture. It’s the reason so many NFL’ers have multiple kids my multiple women in multiple states. And I overuse “multiple” because they’ve gone beyond 2 or 3. It’s the reason shows like Basketball Wives and Love & Hip Hop are even created. Hell, it’s probably the reason springtime tax refunds produces Christian Louboutins in the projects.

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m on a quest for knowledge. I’ve got to get closer to them. I need to interview the gold-diggers just so I can sleep better through the night. It makes my stomach turn, flip, and flop to know that there are chicks who thrive in these I-Might-Land-A-Baller environments! All I can say is, “Man up and buy your own damn drink.”

Sidenote: the Child Tax Credit is about to be sliced next year by 50% so that you only get $500 per eligible child vs. $1000. Did y’all know that? Crooks, pay attention, and check the news. The government is finding creative ways to fund EBT and unemploymen! Don’t shoot the messenger.

 

 

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.

Holy Rollin’

Is This Where I Should Lay My Burdens?

This is going to sound like a mean rant. And it is. So if you’re easily offended by religious discussion, I invite you to stop reading now.

I still have your attention?! Great.

Recently, I was watching some re-runs of “Run’s House” and I noticed that when Justine answered the phone, she greeted callers with, “praise the Lord!” Nothing wrong with that, I actually thought it was cute…and funny. But what I liked about Justine as the episode progressed was that she kept it real. You know, went about her regular business and wasn’t pushing her Lord on anybody. Shall we talk about keeping it real?

I used to attend a mega church in Los Angeles (to remain nameless) and every Sunday, I sat in the same seat. Smack dab in the front about 5 rows from the altar. I like to be able to see EVERYthang that’s going on without distractions. Any further back & I may as well stay home to watch it online. I wanted chuuuch. There was a lady around my Mom’s age who would save my seat. I liked her. She had the best hats to go with her outfits and never had a rip in her pantyhose. She was fly! We’ll call her Church Lady.

Church Lady loved to tell me her business because, in her eyes, I was like a daughter. So I listened. I listened to her tell me about the tired men who take her out on cheap dates. I listened to her gossip about Sistah Big Bones across the aisle. I listened to her tell me how God blessed her with a new Benz (she went for a C-class but they offered an E-class for a good price). And I listened to her tell me about her teenage sons who, for whatever reason, never want to sit next to her and looooove their daddy. Church Lady kept it real with me every week. And she even asked for my number so she could call me in case I missed a Sunday! Ok, that’s called being nosey, but you get my point.

Like Justine, Church Lady knew she wasn’t perfect. She never tried to be except when it came to her flawless hair & makeup. Her weave was whipped and her M.A.C. was matte. Impeccable. She was just like me: in church to hear a message from God so that I can make it through the week. Except her gossip was my little bonus. But after a while, I grew tired of this mega church. It started to feel like I was watching a live TV show versus being in the House of God. So I stopped going.

I would visit church after church. I sat in the front rows only to watch more live TV…which sucks because I work in TV. But I’m hesitant about visiting this one church that many of my associates go to because—well, they’re pretty much heathens (we’ll come back to this later).

Back to Justine and Church Lady. We all KNOW for a fact that outside of church, people live sinful normal lives just like you and me. So what’s the use of trying to pretend like you don’t? A dear, dear friend of mine called me the other day with the most judgmental conversation I’d ever heard, and it made my skin crawl. This person seems to profess their love for God (or some god) more than anyone I can name. Doesn’t the Bible mention that God is the ultimate judge? Doesn’t this same God forgive us of our sins, regardless of who we are?

I am sick and tired of religious/church people condemning the world like their sh!t doesn’t stink. Most of all, I’m fed up with them pretending to love God so much that they forgot how to be human. These are the types people who add ‘if the Lord is willing’ after every question (ex: “hey, you going to Joy’s party on Saturday?” “girrrl, I will if the Lord is willing!”). Really? You consult with God on every decision you make? Did you ask God to help you choose those 3 baby-daddies or was that all you? Did you ask God to give you the words to curse out that rude chick in line at White Castles? Please tell me God didn’t direct you to buy a Land Rover and your rent is 3 months behind? Yeah. Didn’t think so.

The part I think is the saddest is there are people in the world who don’t believe in God (or any god) whatsoever, and then they look at the Holy Rollers with their non-sense. Who wants to be affiliated with that? Get over yourself. And while I’m at it, can’t we all just get along?

Some may say that I’m now judging them on their behavior. I call it stating the facts. Bottom line is we all get one chance at life. And this is it. How you choose to live yours may not line up with what I’m doing, and vice versa. But that in no way means I am wrong and you are right! It means we’re uniquely human. And my uniquely human hand wants to *in my Mama Braxton voice* smack the piss out of them! Just like this dude ‘be smacking his hoes.’

End rant.

LYFE JENNINGS
“Made Up My Mind”
[1st Verse:]
Lord they really think they fooling you by coming to church on Sunday
praying and laying hands on folks stomping and jumping around
faking the holy ghost
but its a thin line between walking it and talking it
living it and giving it or just pretending it’s alright
and did they really think that they could pull the wool over your eyes Lord
did they really think that by faking they were saved that
they would get the same reward
this be the realest thing I ever wrote for sure
after this a lot of folks wont like me no mo’
but after this I gotta go answer to you Lord
so I’ve made up my mind I’m a go to church on Sunday
and sing a song that may hurt somebody’s feelings so that maybe
thy will, will be done
on earth as it is in heaven
and hopefully they will see
how much they really be discouraging a little old sinner like me
[2nd Verse:]
And Lord who they think they jiving by singing these songs full of glory
then out in the world it’s a different story
I’m running out of people to pray for me
I’m not trying to act like I’m the perfect man
but if you speak about it, you should be about it
not just preach about it all day
cause if you do you run the risk of chasing some
of the most beautiful people away
and it is never my intention to discourage you rather encourage you
to change your life today
this be the realest thing I ever had to say,
but after this a lot of folks wont like me no mo’
but after this I gotta go answer to you Lord
so I’ve made up my mind I’m a go to church on Sunday
and sing a song that may hurt somebody’s feelings
so that maybe thy will, will be done
on earth as it is in heaven
and hopefully they will see
how much they really be discouraging a little old sinner like me

Don’t Be A Menace to Santa Monica While Drinking Someone’s Juice In The Office

Juices

Rhonda. We're good for you.

This is what it looked like. A beautiful array of juices on a single shelf in the fridge.

Let me back up for a second. I work in an office where there’s a drink cooler similar to ones you see in a corner store. The drinks are ‘complimentary’, right? So on this particular day, I looked past the Diet Coke and Snapple to one of these delightful healthy juice choices. My guess was that some small LA-based company sent them for us to try. What I didn’t pay attention to was that each one was labeled with a number 1 through 6. I ignored them. I grabbed the Grapefriut/Mint flavored one and went back to my desk. I even called up to the receptionist to make sure they didn’t belong to anyone, she assured me they were for the office.

Minutes later, I hear what appeared to be a storm moving from door-to-door and was quickly approaching my cubicle. It arrived before my eyes.

“You took my juice? I need that, I’m starving! Can I have it back???”

Apparently, one of my male co-workers was on a new juice fast and I was drinking his #3 meal of the day. I was so embarrassed! I apologized, gave him the 7/8 full bottle of (delicious) Grapefruit/Mint juice and walked in shame the rest of the afternoon. I even heard a male co-worker in the distance say, “You drank his juice? Oh man, you ARE from St. Louis!” (Sidenote: insert my woo-sahhhh moment…he doesn’t know me.)

Did I miss something? Why didn’t he just label “Do Not Touch” on his juice like everyone else seems to do in this sort of environment? Is there an unwritten code that these types of men abide by that women seem to blatantly ignore? I know that years of research has been done on us women…because other humans just don’t understand us.

I ran across a post if you click right here you will see it on verysmartbrothas.com that got me thinking about the huge mental gap between men and women. So let me break down a few things that the Curvalicious Species does that Those Without Boobs will never wrap their minds around (I actually don’t get why/how we do these things either, just saying):

1) SWITCH INTO “HO MODE”— You’re in the club looking at a group of gorgeous women who seem to be chillin’ in the corner. They’ve gone to the bar, bought their own drinks, and appear to be a decent group of somewhat-conservative chicks having a bougie girls night out. Then the DJ plays Juvenile’s “Back That Azz Up” and each of these women are now dancing topless on the tables. Ok, maybe not topless, but you get the point. Every girl has an inner ho and it’s bound to come out at the most random moment. Usually after two drinks.

2) TALK FOR HOURS— I can’t even begin to explain this one. What in the world is so important that we run down entire cell phone batteries so we can switch to the house phone and continue the conversation? Yes, I’m guilty of this. No, I can’t comprehend it.

3) HOARD ITEMS/EMOTIONS/MEN/EVERYTHING–I was recently discussing my shoe addiction with a friend (who also shares the same addiction and we’re a force when we’re together) when she brought up a memory of her ex. Not only did she break up with this guy years ago, but our conversation had nothing to do with him. What is happening in her brain that won’t allow her to let go of that guy (or any guy)? And why do we buy four pairs of the same shoe (or shirt) in different colors?  Women.

4) ANNOYING VOICE INFLECTIONS— This happens when we first see each other in a public place. There’s a 3-second deep breath, a scream, then a OhMyGoooossshhhh-iHaventSeenYouInSoooooLooonnnnng followed by jumping up and down and hugging. Ugh. Women. Just say hi.

5) GET MAD OVER TEXT/EMAIL— Again, although guilty, I. Do. Not. know why we do this. Everybody knows words have connotations that aren’t necessarily communicated correctly in a print fashion (see #2 above). Example: Girl gets mad over Guy for not answering the phone when she called him last night while he was partying (we’ll come back to this later). It is now morning, and he texts her “what u doin?” She furiously sends him a 400-word Facebook message about how she deserves better, has sacrificed so much for Guy, he doesn’t value their relationship, blah blah blah. Guy replies “ok.” Girl storms over to his house, livid, and bangs on the door. Guy opens the door and has clearly just rolled out of bed as he’s still in pajamas. Girl screams, “So that’s all you’ve got to say is ‘ok’??? Really?” WTF just happened? Guy has no idea. But women do.

My people out there, what else do can you think of that many women do and makes no logical sense? Talk to me.

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