Your Cat Pissed in My Cheerios

"Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read."--Groucho Marx.

I want to make something clear. I am not an animal person. I especially hate cats.

So please get that “cuddly” ball of fuzz out of my face. And no, I don’t want to hold it, pet it, touch it, feed it, talk to it, walk it, kiss it, lick it, or whatever.




I know what you’re thinking. ‘Aww…so cute’ and ‘how could she be so mean?’

Maybe my hatred towards cats has come deep from the root of my childhood, when I was attacked by one of my mom’s several cats.

I’m serious.

I was seven years old, getting dressed in my room, minding my own business, when he pounced. He was a black cat named Jr., with piercing yellowish-gold eyes, who for some reason did not like me.

It was personal.

I could tell by the way he paced back and forth, licking his lips in anticipation, before he dug his claws deep into my naked skin and scratched me all the way to the ground. It was a no mercy situation. And I am forever traumatized.

So therefore, people who have a creepy loving relationship with their pet, makes me sick. I would rather cut myself with razor blades and squeeze lemon juice on my wounds then to be around a pet lover.

And could someone please explain to me why people dress their dogs in Christmas checkered sweaters, with bows in their “hair” and tote them around in weird carriers?

Dogs have fur, which keeps them warm. If people feel they are doing the poor thing a favor, shave it in the summertime.

The yuppie-grooming trend of dogs is almost as bad as those people who insist on holding conversations with their cats. When I’m not around does your cat suddenly come to life in an animated ‘Sabrina The Teenage Witch’ character and hold a meaningful conversation? If that is the case then, ok, by all means talk to your cat.

According to Katherine C. Grier, author of “Pets in America: A Brief History,” Americans keep nearly 91 million cats and 74 million dogs. I understand some people have pets to make up for the loss of a loved one or to fill in the blank for not having a significant other.

However, ‘pet love’ has been taken to the extreme and I think there should be diagnosis for people who tend to their pets more than they would a human being.

A Drunk Decision by Default

"It was a one time thing, that happened twice and will probably happen again."

I’m torn.

I’m deciding if the night scene of bars, booze and loud annoying drunk people is still my ‘thing’. More productive projects are underway, but going out used to be somewhat therapeutic. So I decided to make a list, to weed out the reasons why my ass is still booty shaking in the club. So here are my Pros and Cons of going to the club/bar:

Pro-I can wear my 4-inch stiletto heels and dress up like my version of a celebrity, without having to hear, “what are you so dressed up for?” “Where are you going?” or “Who are you trying to impress?” I can simply say, “I’m going out.”

Con-creepy drunk guy stares at me all night like I’m a Border Chophouse steak and sends me I-want-to-smear-butter-all-over-your-body eyes all night

Pro- networking; possibly having interesting conversations and meeting lots of new people

Con- not understanding a f*cking thing that comes out of anyone’s mouth, due to loud music and extensive $3 well drinks

Pro- shaking my ass on the dance floor

Con- creepy drunk guy coming up behind me on the dance floor and pushing up against me so that his d*ck manages to go right up the crack of my ass

Pro- cute guy in the blue buttoned-up shirt buys me a drink and tells me I’m beautiful (score! :D)

Con- HATERS!! (this is for that b*tch who got mad because I “bumped into her.” Please note: you are in the club, it is full to capacity, someone is going to touch you and quite possibly spill a little of your drink. If this bothers you, then stay your ol’ grumpy ass home. Thanks:))

Pro- giving cute guy in the blue buttoned-up shirt my phone number

Con- his baby mama throwing a tantrum

Pro- getting hook-up on free drinks

Con- barf = not hot

Pro- not knowing how my night will end

Con- not knowing how my night will end

Pro- cute guy in the blue buttoned-up shirt calls me

Con- I can’t remember his name :(

I guess it’s going to be another Blockbuster night…*sigh*

six-foot long closed legs don't get fed

"Make that money girl, don't let it make you." -The Players Club, 1998.

The top two professions that women make more money than men are: the adult entertainment industry and high fashion modeling. My women's studies professor informed students during lecture in February.

Arguably, I wouldn't put this revelation past her.

It's no secret that a woman's sexuality can sell just about anything, even TrimSpa baby! (R.I.P. Anna Nicole Smith; glad they found a destination for her corpse and her baby daddy).



And wasn't it rapper Kanye West, who said during an interview for Essence Magazine in 2006, good thing for multi-ethnic girls, or else who would we get to dance in our music videos?

It is widely debatable, but the porn industry falls somewhere between a $1 billion and $14 billion industry.

In an article by Pamela White for Boulder Weekly, called "A Matter of Taste," White interviewed Julian Rios a male porn star who makes $100,000 a year.
Rios said that predominantly the adult entertainment industry's audience is male, but the women sell the product and make the money.

Hoover's, a company that provides business information online reported that Jenna Jameson, a popular figure in the adult entertainment industry, made $30 million in sales in 2005 for her entertainment management company, Club Jenna.

Rios said that although men do most of the work in the industry, women make more money.

Rios also added that he's had chlamydia twice and gonorrhea once.

On that note, lets explore the modeling industry. The lives of stick figured women who indulge in grapes and laxatives while stumbling down the runway creating poor stereotypes of women.

These days top models aren't even healthy enough to strut their stuff to the end of the runway to strike a pose.

22-year-old Uruguayan model Luisel Ramos died in August of 2006, during Fashion Week in Montevideo after reportedly going several days without eating.





I'm wondering, at what point between Monday and the catwalk should the thought have occurred to her to have a sandwich? A chicken wing? A mint, perhaps?


In 2006, Ana Carolina Reston, a Brazilian model died at the age of 21 because of her struggle with the disease anorexia nervosa. Reston was 5-foot-8-inches tall and weighed 88 pounds when she died. She reportedly was on a diet of only apples and tomatoes.


The things we do for money…




According to Web sites http://www.fashionschools.com/ and http://www.modeladvice.com/, top glamour super models get paid $10,000 a gig and can make up to $150,000 in a year, or more.

Education not required.

Well this is encouraging, if this writing thing doesn't work out, at least now I know I have options.

It's a shame that in 2007 women, on an average, still only make 75 cents to every man's dollar, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics.

The two clumps of fat that women stuff into their brassiere every morning is not enough to fill the wage gap. However, it is enough to fill out an application for Hooters.

On Feb. 12, 2007, Asmita Prasad posted a blog on http://www.womenlifestyle.com/ that reported the salaries of college-educated have increased - up by 34.4 percent since 1974 in comparison to 21.7 percent for male graduates - according to Catalyst, a New York-based research group.

In the age group of 20 to 30-somethings, women hold more college degrees than men.

Women also dominated the more lucrative professional courses making up more than half of the student population in medical and law courses.

So ladies, there is progress being made. And while a career in porn is probably a good way to get into shape to walk the runway, we have so much more to offer.

A Sex 22

"The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it... I can resist everything but temptation." -Oscar Wilde


So it’s official.
I’m a hussy.

I’m the other woman that is screwing your man on the glass table in your dining room. I was enjoying it too. Until I realized I would be stigmatized for the late night phone calls, the expensive dinners and receiving great head. I prefer to keep my sexcapades with men that don’t have someone bitching in their ear or potentially me.


I don’t think that my immorality is entirely my fault either. I plead guilty.

I mean if you take an oath with God, yourself, or your wife and have filled out the paperwork of commitment, shouldn't your fidelity be guaranteed? I’m not saying all men are cheaters. Although, with my luck and this particular experience, married guy had the audacity to go out of his way to meet me.

I fell for the sweet lines, guilty pleasures and missed the fact that he was not wearing a wedding ring. Then one random day over breakfast married guy casually tosses in the fact that he’s tied down with a wife and a mortgage.

I mean wtf!!??? “Oh by the way would you be mad if I was married?” doesn’t exactly go well with bacon and eggs.

There was a bad taste in my mouth when he told me. I guess my red sanity flag should have gone up when I was invited over and exposed to white walls, instead of photos framing portraits of family and friends. I visualized the places married guy and I had become one in his condo. The intimate shower romp, the rug burns from the carpet, the knotted-up sweaty bed sheets. I remembered how I would lick the juices from his lips after he’d tasted me and him cuming all over my back whispering praises in my ear.

Married guy then tells me (after ruining a perfectly good breakfast) that he just wanted to see if he “still had it”.

Still had what exactly? I guess he wanted to see if he had the ability to screw me from behind and her in the heart. And in the midst of everything blaming me for making a big deal out of the situation.

You have got to be kidding me!!!

It’s like I have a big stamp on my forehead or a flashing neon sign on my back. (OK this is turning into a self-fulfilling prophecy). I mean don’t get me wrong, I actually enjoy being single. However, I for sure don’t want to see my future as the innocent housewife wearing Steve Maddens instead of Manolo Blahniks.

Men are either bad boys or too damn nice.
Can there not be an in between guy. I want to meet my in between guy. One who makes my toes curl, who is soft on the inside and rough on the outside. I want him to come with a big f*cking bow wrapped around his mouth, so I don’t have to listen to his bullsh*t.

Is that too much to ask? Can’t we compromise? Can he be physically and emotionally available? Baggage free, so that I can enjoy the sex, without thinking of his wife crying in the back of my mind, because someone else is sitting on her man’s dick.

Some men are just greedy. They want their cake and they want to eat you too. Married guy was persistent in his search for the perfect sexual fantasy affair.

"Can we at least be friends, " he asked.

"Sure," I said. "Why don't you, me and your wife go out to lunch sometime and talk about the gorgeous view from your balcony."

The affair fizzled, soon after his lame requests. There is nothing sexy about dating a married man. Nothing.