Girl Talk

She says the darnest things….

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    It never fails, we sit down to lunch, I load in a mouthful of salad, and out of her mouth spews forth something that makes me almost choke. My friend Aubrey gives new meaning to colloquialisms. It is not as if she uses the phrases incorrectly, but she laces old school wisdom with words that are not usually paired. For example, she stated a young lady showed up to an event looking like “damn it, I’ll bite ‘cha!” I’m not sure what that is supposed to look like, but I had a visual in mind.

    I often find myself marveling at her wisdom while attempting not to break out in laughter at her word choices. Here is another example. We were speaking of a friend of hers who was going through some adversity. Try as her friend might, things were just not quite working out in her life. Aubrey looks me straight in the face and tells me, “Sometimes God presents you with an opportunity to get out of a bad situation.” I know right? I thought the same thing, how accurate the statement is considering there have been bad situations in my life where, when the miraculous opportunity presented itself to escape, I did. However, she ruined the pearl of wisdom by adding, she was okay to be alone, and because it was giving her lady parts an opportunity to marinate, mature and develop a pure flavor. Huh?

    Again I choked.

I almost wanted to leave the table but curiosity forced me to sit still and hear more. The conversation continued about this friend who chose a man over her children. “What kind of man do you have that he would allow you to do such a thing? He is not a man especially, if he encourages you to put him before your children.” Again, I know right. Yet she follows it up with the next pairing, “that kind of d*ck can make a body sick.” Huh?

    I can’t help but laugh, because she says the darnest things. Just when I start to think I will be able to finish my meal without choking, along comes a young fine specimen of manhood that gives our table a courtesy glance. He nods, I smile. Aubrey  makes head on eye contact, the young man speaks, “How you doing?” I now find that I am actually holding my breath. Aubrey answers him with, “Anybody I can, you next?”

    Go ahead, say it with me…..huh?

The young man was shocked. I was shocked and the only thing left was to laugh. All three of us, and the young man, said he would have to remember that one. I finally am able to finish my lunch with a shake of my head, because she says the darnest things.

Just My Toes Please

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    It is that time of year again. It is time to head to the salons for pedicures for the summer. It is again time to slough off the dead of winter that torments our soles. It is also time yet again to be tormented by Mamasan and her crew. I don’t know what they are saying, but I think they are talking about me.

    “Manicure… pedicure?” When I say I just want the pedicure, I am told to pick out my color. She frowns at the initial choice as if that color will make me look like a fool, so I make another. I take to the chair, slip off my shoes and add my feet to the blue hot water. I pick up the chair controller, recline the chair and start the massage features. I am relaxed, I am decompressing, I am about to get my “chill out” on.

    Through the dull roar of my eyes, I can hear an annoying sound. “You want design?” Cracking my eyes, I answer politely, “No, thank you.” I just want my feet taken care of, I close my eyes and I am headed back to my land of enchantment, where the Prince has just entered the ball and has asked me to dance. He extends his hand. I reach for it only to hear, “You want spa?” I am getting annoyed. “No, thank you, just the pedicure,” I answer more tersely this time. I frown, lean back again in the chair, now where was I? Oh yes, the Prince, in his regal glory had just reached for my hand. I am nodding, accepting, and he is saying something to me….only all I hear is, “Your nail…really bad…you need manicure!”


“Design, you need design….I make real pretty, I make for you!” I am peeved now, I don’t want the design, just do the toes please. She finally leaves me in peace and I notice my nail polish has ran. I pay and leave in my ad hoc flip flops. Why does it always happen to me, I just wanted my toes done and a moment to relax? I can appreciate her desire to work the upsell, but sometimes when a customer says, “just the toes please,” then that is all they want. I can be honest and tell you, that if you treat the customer with respect, and allow them to just enjoy this opportunity to self-pamper in peace, they will come back. Only next time, they will ask for the manicure as well.

Sometimes I Cry

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    There are some days when tired just does not express how worn you feel. There are days when my legs feel like lead and my mind can no longer process another entry. There are minutes in my day that I find myself watching the clock just waiting for the minute that I can be free. Then there are the days when you step into the shower, allowing the water to wash over you and then, you cry.

    The water, the tears, and the stresses of your life are rinsed away. There is something therapeutic about a good cry. University of South Florida psychologists Jonathan Rottenberg and Lauren M. Bylsma, along with their colleague Ad J.J.M. Vingerhoets of Tilburg University found that the benefits of crying depend entirely on the what, where and when of a particular crying episode. Let’s be realistic, if you just sit down and start bawling for no apparent reason, then there are some deeper issues.

    If you are crying over spilled milk, then go to the market and buy another gallon. If you are spending a Sunday afternoon with Lifetime, then you are due a good cry. Yet there are moments when you just feel full. There are moments when your cup runneth over and there is nothing left.

    I am there.

    I have little left.

    I am full.

    Sometimes I cry because I need it.

Get your cry on and  order your free box of Kleenex.

When did men stop being men?

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Last month, as part of our saving more campaign, hubby and I decided to cancel some unnecessary subscriptions and memberships. Reluctantly, this cancellation included my new love, Sirius Satellite radio. I miss having the freedom to avoid advertising and Shock Jocks, but alas, without my trust iPod at my side, I was forced to listen to the radio. I tuned in to Michael Baisden. He had an interesting topic and wanted to know, when did men stop being men?

    I don’t think that men have stopped being men; I think women have stopped being ladies. In an ever changing world, roles became muddled in the 80’s, transfused in the 90’s and in the new millennia, these roles have been transposed. We don’t know what we want anymore, who we want or how to live with the opposite sex. We can’t communicate because unless it is a BBM or a text message, face time is only applicable if it involves the Facetime app. How can we expect our men to know what to say let alone how to act?

    The problem is really two fold. I think as mothers, we have become so protective of bad women who were not properly raised, that we shelter our sons. Our sheltered sons are often torn between holding in their mouths the breasts of their women and the breasts of their mothers. It is hard to realize such extremes, but to be honest, it is where we are. Our men cannot be men, because they are still being their mom’s little boys. Mother’s must learn to let them go so they can leave your homes and began their own.

    When Mom learns to let go, men can then become independent to find their way. Don’t worry Mom, if you raised him right, he will know how to treat a lady and will only attract the good ones. But, in order to attract a good man, you must first be a good woman. Being a good woman means you must learn to honest and stop introducing the men in your lives to you designated representatives (DR). Your DR is that person you are pretending to be to get this man to like or love you. You wonder why the relationship goes south; because once you tire of the charade, the real you comes out. Nine times out of ten, he will not like the real you. As a matter of fact, you argue all the time because the real you and your DR are at odds. However, you will not be kind and end it until you have reduced him to a pulverized mass weeping on the kitchen floor. I feel sorry for the woman that gets him next.

    Men have not stopped being men, we have stopped being ladies. Our DR’s show up and promise the poor fella that he has discovered a rare gem, when really it is just a lump a coal covered in green spray paint and shined up with Armor All. How do you know how to pick a good partner or mate when you can no longer trust your judgment? You don’t judge, you just learn to feel. If what you are doing feels good, then good is okay. It no longer becomes relevant to find something permanent, because every one lies. Everyone has a DR, and tonight, it is your turn to entertain the reps.

    If the latest rep or DR can pole dance, then the night is going to be hot! Who needs love when I can borrow it for a few minutes? I can be a good man tomorrow, however tonight, I am going to be a bad boy. Life is short, why waste it thinking? I am still thinking about the original question and I have no answer for you Mr. Baisden.

Thinking Things Through

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I spent the day with a dear friend and over lunch, not only did she give me a headache, I think she gave my ass one as well. I never realized how absolutely negative she was in her mode of thinking, in her mode of living and essentially in her entire way of being. Midway through our conversation, it donned slowly upon my aching brain, that my head was hurting because I was attempting being rational with an irrational being.

The conversation started slowly with my latest novel that I cannot seem to finish because the character is not wholly developed. Her argument began with what a person will do for love at the demise of a relationship. I was told that I was a hopeless romantic and that most people did not think as I did and she, in fact, could not relate. That’s when I ceased trying to rationalize my thinking, because she just told me, she could not relate.

I grew up with relatives and had relations with people who loved me. I have friendships with several of my long term former loves where the relationships ended on an amicable note. I have had few, if any relationships that ended with an up yours and I am going to burn your sneakers in the bathtub. I am not a vindictive person and therefore cannot relate to people with vindictive spirits. I will admit to being a smart aleck and on several occasions have been called a smart ass, but never a negative one of either. Of course, based on these simple facts, there is no way, she could relate, nor understand.

It thereby became a harsh realization to me, that I was a hopeless believer in the good of all people, to include my pain in the ass friend. I also realized that out of all the people she was around, that I was the most faithful whom actually showed up on a regular basis to spend time with her ornery butt. Then something magical happened, I stopped talking and got quiet; she changed the subject. The moment I stopped trying to make sense of her nonsense and got quiet, she stopped with the negativity and simply said, “You are spoiled, I never got that type of love growing up, in my marriage or in any relationship.” I simply responded with, “I see your point.” I am hoping that you can see my point as you read these words. If it feels clear as mud, please allow me to explain.

The negativity she exuded was feeding off my disgustingly cheerful optimism. She could not understand my reasoning because she had no basis for what I understood. It would be the same as three blind men walking up to an elephant. If the first feels the trunk, the second feels the middle and the last feels the tail, then the three of them separately will never know it’s an elephant. In my mind, the smell will tell you it’s an elephant, but if you have never been around, seen, felt and smelled an elephant, you will have no frame of reference. My friend had no frame of reference for my views on love. Her negativity stemmed from a lack of love and it pissed her off that I had so much and she, so little and that on another lunch, I attempted to force my rose colored views across her aching eyes.

The conversation now turns against me and I become the designated ass, because she was in fact attempting a rational conversation with an irrational being. So often we attempt to force our views upon others who have no frame of reference for which we speak, and we become frustrated that they do not see our points of view. I am going to spend my 2012 eliminating the negatives from my words, because if I may quote Paula White, “you can’t celebrate my glory, if you don’t know my story.” I did not take into account my friend’s story and I bombarded her with my overly simplistic optimism, while expecting her to celebrate my thought process.

If you find yourself complaining about the same problem, moaning about the same situation, and groaning over the never changing scenarios that haunts your existence, then please takes this with you. The problem just may be you. We must give others a chance to celebrate your story, if you just hush up over the glory.