My McDreamy

Speaking of men…

I tried to post this singles add on craigslist, but it got sent back to me. The email read something about inappropriate content. Humph. How can I put out there what I’m looking for in a man if the Internet won’t let me? Anyway, here is the ad, you be the judge…

I am looking for a man who is between 6’ and 6’2”and has a great sense of humor. He must be moderately good looking with excellent hygiene. I don’t like pretty boys. Preferably a Libra, but I will also take Gemini or an Aries.

Penis size should be not too big and not too small. If things aren't looking good in this department, compensate.

I want an educated man who is still street smart. I don’t care what business he’s in, just as long as it isn’t drug or ho related. MUST pay taxes.

Please no baby mama drama. If you do have A kid that is great, however, they must not be a whiny little brat. Preferably potty trained and if they act up I get the right to karate chop them in the side of the neck.

About me: I am a 24-yr-old bartender, who is educated, but hasn’t quite found her niche yet. I’m not desperate, just bored with it all and wanted to spice things up. If you are interested, please email me at (mspuddin [at] gmail [dot] com).

And may the best man win.

Backwards Love

I had an epiphany. I know, I know, me in deep thought may come as a shock, but humor me here. I could be onto something...

I was driving in my car the other day when that Mary J. Blidge song came on the radio, “Not Gon’ Cry.” Remember that song from Waiting to Exhale, outlining Angela Bassett’s character? The woman who was married to her man for 11 years, helped him build his company success, had two of his children, then he had an affair (with a white woman) and left her?

Well I was thinking, they’re relationship probably started out all honeymoon-like. They met, fell in love and things were great, long walks, long conversations, lots of sex and quality time. That was, until he started thinking with his dick, totally fucked her and tried to take everything she had worked so hard for.

I’m thinking that since people tend to get married to get divorced, this scenario is all too familiar for most.

Then there are other people, (like me), who meet their significant other and they start showin’ they ass within like the first few weeks. Not to be too specific, but a rude, lazy, selfish, player, with no intentions to commit, no direction and so not worth the time and effort, who one day realizes that he is a jerkface and the two of you were meant to be.

Basically what I’m saying is that maybe we should start dating backwards, ya know? Like get all of our flaws out of the way in the beginning of the relationship, so in the end we can live happily ever without divorce or compromising surprises.

Ok this could be a really lame justification for my personal dating situation or a brilliant revelation...

Bitch should have taken the stairs...

Also, now I need a word for the fear of old people or a phobia of old people, something in that nature. I think once we diagnose it and get me some medication, I can solve this problem and people won’t think I’m so mean.

I Need A Stronger Martini

You know what is the worst? Seeing your ex in the club. No. Seeing your ex in the club, drunk, while he makes love to another girl on the dance floor. Bartender, seriously there isn’t enough vodka in my martini. Matter of fact, do you serve drugs? I need an order of lots of mind numbing, memory forgetting drugs, please. Yeah, just put it on my tab. Thanks.

I know I have been MIA lately, but I had a really long week, which rolled over into a really long weekend. It wasn’t all boy drama, but I figure that part was the most interesting…

Remember the guy who kept flaking on me? The one who tried to say that he called five times and left a voicemail, but my phone never rang? Well, I gave him a second chance. In my defense there is a difference between desperate and horny. There is! I figured maybe if I get to know him a little better I might be able to handle some much-needed business.

It was his dad’s birthday on Saturday and so he invited me to come hangout, which was interesting since it’s a little early to be meeting the family. But whatever, I was game. His dad was cool, but totally busted him out for only being 21! WTF! Yeah, he lied to me about his age. I wasn’t so much mad about him lying about his age. Ok yes I was.

21 is too old for me anyway. If I’m going to have a boy toy he should only be 19 or 20. That way he can drop me off at the bar, pick me up and I don’t have to worry about him drinking and driving.

So anyway, I left that mini fiasco and my girl hit me up about going out since it was Cinco de Mayo weekend. Ok, sounds good, maybe it will help take my mind off of things. And after that episode, I could really use a drink.

We get downtown, which is out of control. I wasn’t the only one out on the prowl that night. I see my girl’s baby daddy outside of the club. Go figure he was throwing a party there? We end up getting inside of the club no sweat. But, not even 20 minutes after I open a bar tab, the ex walks in the door. Boo.

I spent the rest of the night spying at him from the bar. Just kidding, no I didn’t. Ok yeah I did.

Don’t judge me.

MsP

An Interview with A Mr. Slausin Ass Slaus

* Warning!! * Don’t read this @ work.

I got the chance to catch up with Slaus from over at Oh Hell Nawl this week and we got into one of our usual random ass conversations…

MsP: Slaus, how’s it goin'? Back problems? Old lady giving you trouble?

Slaus: Hey baby thanks for having me here on your blog n ish! I really appreciate the chance to get away from the shenanigans of my family and then the staff. It's like a damn party filled with meth-addicted monkeys, but without the high and the monkey's are throwing shyt on my walls and trying to sodomise me with damn jolly ranchers! Who does that?

MsP: Um, I couldn't tell ya. Soooo... the Web site you're a slave to, Oh Hell Nawl, is becoming really popular. When was the last time someone you know made you go "Oh Hell Nawl"?

Slaus: Slave is right doll! I kinda feel fortunate, because I see ignant shyt all day every day ya know. Just Monday I was at work and saw this lil hot blonde chick getting on the elevator. Since I could see the elevator was going down, I ran and jumped in also. You should have seen the look on her face! Not because a Big ol black dude jumped on the elevator with her, it's because she obviously thought she was gonna take the ride by herself.. cuz she pooted. I mean it had to be her, cuz there was no one else there but she and I. Must have been one of those lingering ass lingering kinda poots too I bet. All I know is: It smelled like Ha Ha Hell. Damn shame for a girl that fine to poot a cloud of what could be mistaken for Lean cuisines and lama dick. Nasty. She WAS fine though. But I'd have to question her diet. Smellin like that.

MsP: Damn, that will teach you to take the stairs. Have any of your staff ever got into it?

Slaus: The question isn't IF they have, the question is when DON'T we fight. I -mean- fiiiiight. There isn't a week that goes by, when someone doesn't say to me: " Fugg this, you can fire me then!" or " I know that bytch didn’t say what I think she said to me," and my favorite: " You need to get such n such before I cuss them the fugg out! I aint playing!" Most of the time the anger is based at me though, and it's completely deserved. I can be a hard person to work for. Shyt, just Wednesday I fought with my Marketing Manager for an hour over messenger, then fought with my Sales Manager that afternoon!

MsP: Once yall get it together and quit fighting, what are your plans for OHN?

Slaus: GET. PUBLISHED. I am SO sincere. The first goal is to get published by 2009, 2010 at the latest. But it’s going to be really difficult to do so with the way the strip is set up right now. It is a real problem and real talk? It keeps me up at nights sometime. Thank God for Sex n martini’s to bring me back to earth!

MsP: Do you have any blogging rituals? Ex: stretching, finger aerobics, lots of booze, etc.?

Slaus: I blog at my best usually when I find some quiet time, got some Jimi Hendrix or Lenny Kravitz playing, and a dirty martini with three olives. Im boojie. A good martini is the way to go... matter of fact? Where are the dranks? No dranks, and you haven’t flashed boobs once in this interview. This is some booolshyt.

MsP: My bad, vodka and cran or gin and tonic?

Slaus: Gin n Tonic.. or dirty Martini with three gourmet olives. Not those fake ass fake pimento ass Albertson shyts either. Gourmet dammit! Yeah, I’m unapologetically boojie.

MsP: How about, Grape juice or grape drink?

Slaus: Grape anything is nasty as hale!

MsP: Ok, what about orange juice or drank? Red drink???

Slaus: Ok red drank! Definitely. Does that mean I get to keep my Black Card? Cuz you know grape drink is like a Black staple. Every black house from the hood to the Hamptons has a packet of grape koolaid somewhere in the crib! But you know we gotta mix it with other shyt like a lil lemonade.. lil orange drink. Shit.. if there was a chemist degree for mixing koolaid? Black folks would have phd’s a plenty!

MsP: You always talking about some black folks sh*t. If you were stuck on Neverland Ranch with Michael Jackson, what would you do?

Slaus: Slap the dog shyt out of his dumb ass. Why the fugg a beautiful black man, wanna turn himself into an ugly ass white woman? Looking like skeletor n shyt. I expect us to see Michael Jackson in a purple cloak n shyt within a few years, tryna take over Castle Gray skull... watch.

MsP: I would never think of doing that, slapping MJ, that is. Was there ever a moment in time where someone said something really profound when you weren't expecting him or her to? Have you ever shocked yourself?

Slaus: I remember back in the day when I was the typical knucklehead, my Uncle Keith told me: Obstacles exist only when you take your eyes off of the goal. Girl, that shyt has defined my life ever since. That and the biggie Lyric: Damn right/ If Their heads right/ Biggie there ery night! That's real. Shyt I have shocked myself plenty of times when thinking of funny things to say. Lot's of it I don't think will ever see print. It's some shyt i'd hav to save for the stage or something.

MsP: Speaking of Biggie, did you like it better when we called Sean Combs, Puff Daddy, P. Diddy or Diddy?

Slaus: Ion't care if that negro wanna be called captain Kookoocachoo. GIVE US ANOTHER BIGGIE CALIBER ARTIST DAMMIT! And make Sean John clothing comfy in a 3XL bytch! Diddy ass diddy.

MsP: Of the stories you tell, I see you've done a lot of crazy things on your lifetime. What's the craziest thing you've ever done for sex? For money? Have you ever had sex for money?

Slaus: LOL Oh snap! Good question! I've never fugged for money. Other than Ron Jeremy, who the hell is paying a fat man for dick? That's just un-American, unsavory, and foolish. Back in the day though, I did have my boys let the air out of a chicks tires, so she had to stay over for the night. The ass was terrible. I was ready to take my ass outside at 4am with a fuggin bike pump and a set of full lungs, to put the air in that heffas tires so she could bone the fugg out.

MsP: How many times have you been arrested again?

Slaus: Uhm my momma aint gonna read this right? Momma, take yo ass on and do something productive! Ok. Like 4 times. Inciting a riot, lewd behavior, fighting, contempt of court.

MsP: Inciting a riot!? Lewd behavior!? Care to explain? (See what had happened was)…

Slaus: Yeah for real lol. What had happened was.. me and my boys were down in Mardi gras and we wanted to get beads like the chicks were. SO we figured we’d take our jibbys out, and let the women play ring toss. Cops arrested us for lewd behavior. I don’t know if it was the fact that 5 dudes had their jibby’s out, or the fact that this guy Corey had some redhead taking a picture of herself holding his bead adorned dack. Either way, we got arrested. We got those beads tho.

MsP: Have you ever felt breasts that felt like bags of sand?

Slaus: I’m a boob man. I think I’ve groped everything from a barely A to an E-cup. Shyt I remember this one love whose boobs were so big, her bra was prolly made by NASA. Size: Secret F n shyt. Kind of boobies where if you were chest sexin, you were not going to see your jibby poke out the other end... fo reaaaaal. Ego crushin but fun. But bags of sand? Nawl...

MsP: Ok so, Aretha Franklin titties or Oprah's? Would you hit it? Fanger it? Where’s Nupe when you need him???

Slaus: LOL What up Anonymous Nupe! Fanga Bang Productions baby! For real though? I’d be a gay ass gay, before I touch Aretha. Hell, I wouldn’t even know what was tiddy and what was belly or back fat rolled to the front. Hell to the no. And I would be afraid to grope Oprah, because I’m not even sure that sista is a human. I bet when no one is looking, she peels off her flesh and then she appears as just a being of light n shyt, like cocoon. Heffa just levitate about her mansion glowing to all be damned, sounding like that skull head astronaut villain in Scooby doo: Wooowooowoowoowowowoo.

MsP: Would you ever do the Angry Pirate to a female?

Slaus: LOL Not nevah! I’m not doing anything to jeopardize getting a repeat performance of a great blow job. If the Lord invented anything better than the Blow Job, she hid that ish for herself. I LOVE HEAD! I can for go sex, if the head includes the grand finish. Head is to Slaus, and spinach is to Popeye.

MsP: You once told me about a dream your friend had where he was playing offense to R Jay in a game of basketball, naked and he kept blocking the ball with his d*ck. Have you ever had any dreams like that? Have you ever had any dreams that made you go Oh Hell Nawl?

Slaus: I once dreamed I was giving Sailor Moon anal. How's THAT for fucked up! Who does that!? I boolshyt you not. It wasn’t really Sailor Moon, but it was someone dressed up LIKE Sailor Moon. I’m into some kinky ass kinky shyt, but that was ignant..... Wanna (Slaus’ wife) and I will prolly act that shyt out though. We have no good sense.

MsP: If Britney Spears and Amy Winehouse were the last two women on earth, which one would you have sex with?

Slaus: Hmmm I ain’t into blondes, and I love pale chicks with black hair. But Britney got more meat on her bones.... damn.. that's a toss up. Either way I wouldn’t tell anyone, AND I’d have to clean my jibby in hot bleach, holy water and cleansing waters of Lake Minnetonka.

MsP: Btw, boxers or briefs?

Slaus: A Fat man aint supposed to wear briefs under ANY circumstance! If you catch my fat ass in some tighty whitey ass briefs, you can kick my ass. But then again the real question is.. why are you seeing me in my drawls in the first place girl! I'd have to say Boxer or Boxer briefs. I do have some tighties for emergencies though, aint gone lie.

MsP: Well Slaus, that's about all the time I have with you. Any final thoughts before we wrap this thing up?

Slaus: Can I clone you when it's legal? Come onnn! Be a team player. All you need to know is your clone would prolly have to wear a Cheetara costume, and you can't have me arrested for whatever happens next. Clone's ain’t got rights. Seriously, thanks for having me here today baby girl! I usually don't comply with anything beige people ask of me, but you're aiight in my book. I won't even have you sent to the work camps when I’m ruler of the USA. Oh, and all of you folks out there need to read Oh Hell Nawl every damn day! And if that's too raunchy n ignant for you: just check in every week to Oh Hell Nawl and read the strips! Oh yeah, none of you heffas better try to come out the woodwork and say I’m the father of your baby neither. That's how episodes of CSI get started.

MsP: What this? You have something against us light people? Are you just mad because I have a better chance of being related to Obama??? Humpf, hater…

Slaus: Basically. That’s why I ain’t voting for Obama. I ain’t tryna allow the resurgence of the yellow negro, to happen under MY watch. Fugg.That. And besides, his lips dark as hale. How you gonna be that light but then have black ass black lips. Looking like the Crow n shyt. “ It can’t rain ALL the time!” Lol see.. saying shyt like that, is why I wouldn’t be friends with me. But nawl I love Beige people. Love my darkies to. I like everybody.

… but Dick Cheney.

I Got The Hook Up

I officially buried my razr this week.

I was getting out of the car with a pile of stuff in my hands and of course the only thing to fall onto the ground was my cell phone. It broke into two pieces, separating the neck from the body.

Oddly enough it still worked after that.

Well, up until the next night when I set it down on the couch next to me and then accidentally bumped it with my foot, knocking it onto the floor. Kind of similar to a power outage, it sizzled on and off a few times before completely shutting down.

So I sucked it up and went and bought a brand new phone, with no insurance and a no commitment plan. A painful $250 later, I upgraded. All the jobs I have and that one still hurt. I don't know why, it's not like I was buying drugs or some booty. It's just that the only thing I ever spend that much money on guilt free is shoes.

However, the next night at work I got a party of 30 guys who requested a female server (sexist much?). Two bottles of jager, three bottles of patron silver, fifteen jack n cokes, four car bombs, ten vodka sodas, 100 beers, one lap dance and a couple of hand jobs later, they tipped me out for my new cell phone. Score!

He Called!

Hot guys don’t hit on me very often. At least if they do get my number, they don’t call.

I’m usually the girl in the club who can’t understand why the man who comes up to about my chest area, with a cocked-eye and just got off the phone with 1984 who apparently wanted their outfit back, is always the first to holla. And if it’s not him the alternative is usually a potential stalker or sugar daddy material.

Could someone please take the sign off of my back that reads, “I date anyone with a penis”?

I mean it’s not that big of a deal. I like my stalkers. They build quality self-esteem. Anyway, my point is I usually get hit on by weirdos or jerks. So I was surprised when hot dream guy, I mentioned before, called after two weeks.

“Why are you calling me,” I asked him.

“Cuz’ you’re hot,” he responded.

Sounds good to me. Here is the dish:

I go-go danced at some guy’s birthday party over Thanksgiving break as a favor. It was at a nightclub and since it was a favor, we didn’t have to dance the whole night. The girls and I got to throw on our party dresses and mingle halfway through the night. This was the when and the where of how I met my hot dream guy. He was a friend of a friend and after we got introduced, we became inseparable the rest of that night.

I remember at one point standing outside with him, when some big guy with a hoodie came barreling through the crowd and bumped into me. I hadn’t really noticed, but dream guy did.

“Hey you,” he said. “Why don’t you apologize to the lady?”

The guy kind of slowly turned around unsure if dream guy was talking to him. Then he kind of looked at me sheepishly and mumbled a, “oh my bad, I’m sorry.”

They shook hands and the guy left. Just like that.

I’m sorry, but he had me at “hey you.” I was impressed. Ok, I’ll admit it doesn’t take much to turn me on, some cheap porn and a happy meal, but this was new to me.

In general, I’m not big on pretty boys. Seriously, what girl wants to date someone who looks better than her? But there is something about him, he is a little rough around the edges. I can dig it...

Nice Guy Gets High Fast

"The best part about alcohol: If you don’t remember, it didn’t happen."

Omg!! I just had the best dream ever!

For me, when people say this before they proceed to try and describe their dream, I'm like please, just shut up already. Honestly, your dream was only good in your mind, while you were sleeping. I, however, wouldn’t have brought my dream up if I didn’t think that it wasn't worth sharing.

I know I'm great. I share. Well, in my dream, I was on a party bus, with Cameron Diaz, on the way to Vegas!!

See, now I bet you want to hear more, but that’s all I got. I woke up before I got to the good stuff.

Yeah, I was disappointed too.

Waking up after another date from hell, the Cam dream did totally make my day though.
Yeah, yeah I’m dating. It sucks. Please spare me any commiseration. I already feel sorry for me too.

So, I met this guy about a month ago. He’s kind of slow. Slow as in, when I tell a joke, he has like a three second witticism delay. Not that I’m a comedian or anything. I mean if it’s not funny, it’s not funny. But if he's laughing late, because I had to rewind and break down the joke for him to get it, then it’s funny and he's just f*cking slow. (Or I could be a bad joke teller, but I'm going to stick to my original argument of him being slow).

I should also mention that he smokes weed on an “occasion.”
He filled me in on this bit of information during an intellectual conversation, where I told him that I try to avoid dating guys who are into smoking weed and playing video games. I didn’t know that it would be so hard to find a guy to meet the criteria of hobbies that don’t include killing brain cells. These days they are hard to come by. I don’t know, maybe the weed explains the delay. At the same time, if he were *high* there wouldn’t be a delay, right? He would laugh quickly at pretty much anything.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this...

Let me just say, I’m trying to see past the slowness and the weed smoking, because he’s nice. And I drink.

Anyway, slow guy took me out to dinner on Friday, to Romano’s, a.k.a., the Macaroni Grill. Somewhere I had never been before, because in my mind I had pictured Bertha, with a hairnet, scooping macaroni out buffet style to Jimbo and them.

I was pleasantly surprised when we got situated at the bar that this was a place I might actually enjoy.

I would call our dinner date, the ‘official’ third date for slow guy and I. (We still had to suffer through small talk and ask each other every five minutes, “is everything ok?”) The evening started off like any other opening night, as he made a toast we giggled and flirted. Slow guy was even sweet enough to help me figure out the foreign menu of pastas and wines.

Somewhere between the appetizers and the main course I managed to have one too many Washington Apple shots. I washed them down with two glasses of wine and grew impatient with our now dry conversation. I’ll admit, I’m a cheap date and by the end of dinner I had to pee and slow guy was getting on my nerves with his Q&A survey of, “so tell me about you?”

I’ll tell you about me. I have a small bladder and I’m going to need another shot to continue this boring ass conversation.

By the time we headed back to his place I wasn’t walking crooked, I was walking in circles. (I think I played it off though; my slurred speech might have been the only thing giving me away). When we got back to his place his roommate was sitting on the couch rolling a fatty. Without any hesitation, slow guy plopped down on the couch, eager to join in on the rotation of the puff. I know I was a ‘little’ sloshed, but couldn’t he have waited until I went home to satisfy his craving? He might as well have whipped out his d*ck and slapped me in the face with it.

Oh well, I guess it never would have worked out with slow guy anyway. We obviously don’t share the same interests. He's a pothead, I'm a drunk. He eats, I throw up. He stares at things for long periods of time, I pass out. He chills on the couch, I stumble around. You get the point.

He was considerate enough to offer me a hit.

I told you he was a nice guy.