My Top 3 Movies of 2010

One thing I did a lot of this year, which really isn't different from any other year, is watch movies. It's a favorite past time of mine and never gets old. So here are my Top 3 movies of 2010:

Black Swan: This movie, which I watched just last night was like one big, awesomely bad, ecstasy trip. But what would you expect from Darren Aronofsky? Helloooo Requiem for a Dream? I got 2 words for you: double headed dildo, read about it lol. This time I got 2 names for you though: Mila Kunis and Natalie Portman, which are 2 reasons alone that you should watch this film. Asides from the young and beautiful though, Black Swan was a psychological thriller in every sense. It was also a dark little glimpse of a world that is normally seen as light and fluffy. Rodarte did NOT fail, and I definitely think Portman deserves a nomination for this role ... or at least a hot tub.

Get Him to the Greek: This film was by far my favorite comedy of the year and quite possibly up there with Top 10 comedies of all time. Russel Brand being aloof, and Jonah Hill being funny was expected but the real breakthrough star in this film was none other than Puff Daddy aka P-Diddy aka Diddy aka Diddy Dirty Money WTF. I seriously laughed the during the ENTIRE "furry walls" scene and was crying. As in my eyeliner was all fucked up and I practically had snot running out my nose from laughing. Definitely watching it again ... lit ... no "Jeffreys" though lol.


Toy Story 3: And of course my favorite movie of the year would be a cartoon about TOYS, but what can I say? 29 going on 10. This movie just brought me back to the basics in every sense of the word. It just reminded me of the simple things that make us happy in life and made me appreciate raw creativity, something that I believe is lacking in today's high-tech world. AND YES. I cried like a big baby at the end. DON'T JUDGE MEEEEEE!

Honorable mentions: Inception, Machete, and The Social Network. What are YOUR top 3 movies of 2010 and why?

Keepin it 20/20

Stopping myself.

Man Up

Can someone please tell me what makes a man, a man?

For the longest time I thought I had an idea, but could never quite grasp it long enough to make it a fact.

Is it how many plates he can bench without making any obnoxious grunts? Is it how many fights he's been in and won? What about how many bitches he's fucked? Do the extreme sports or extra curricular activities he participates in have anything to do with it? What about the kind of car he drives? A real man should at least know how to change a tire right?

So then what makes a man, more importantly your man - gay? One would think a determining factor would be if he likes it up the ass. But nowadays, it seems as if everything makes him suspect.

Is he gay if he has no qualms about holding your purse for you while you go try on a jacket? What if he hit you with a *muah/xoxo/;o)* combo via text message? Is he in the chair next to you getting a touch up when you're getting threaded? What about if he uses body wash instead of soap? What about if he uses scented body wash instead of soap? What about if he uses a loofah with this scented body wash instead of soap?

I'm sorry but if can deep throat a banana - not only am I going to question his manhood but I'm also going to question my womanhood in the fellatio department as well.

I used to think the definition of a man was some 6'4" motherfucker with muscles. They got into fights and kicked ass. They road motorcycles and only drove American cars. They shot guns, fought fires, and built houses with their bare hands. They never showed emotion, or weakness. Women wanted to fuck them, and men who weren't scared of them wanted to be their friend.

I don't think I'll ever know what exactly makes a man, a man. But I can tell you that none of the above matters. Because I've dated the hero, the athlete, the fighter, and the "man's man" and at one point or another, I had bigger balls than all of them. I used to love one man who was willing to risk his life for complete strangers - yet couldn't be honest with the one person they cared about most.

Women love all types of men. Men who get paid to get their asses kicked, men who go to war for their country, men who climb mountains and jump out of planes. Yet these are the same men who would rather wrestle an alligator than say, "No, I don't love you anymore", "I'm seeing someone else", "I cheated on you." Or even "I'm sorry", "I fucked up", or "Help me please."

So you can keep drink your Muscle Milk, play tackle football, take me on a shopping spree, and fuck a different bitch every day of the week. Shit, I ain't even gonna front. I want my men "manly" too. So be competitive, and primal, and cocky (my bad, I meant confident), and everything else society says you have to be. But if you can't ALSO be sensitive, considerate, humble, and caring - then not only are you NOT a man in my book, but you are also not human. Because even if you're Bear Grylls himself - if you cannot take responsibility for your actions, if you cannot keep your word, if you cannot handle your business? Then you are STILL a pussy.

P.S. After discussing this topic with the homie D, he then asked me "What makes a woman, a woman?" Another blog perhaps? ...

Foodgasm of the Day - The Underdog

The Mission district in San Francisco is renowned for their plethora of taquerias, and authentic Mexican food. And while I can attest to this, especially those long nights after the club when you need something greasy to soak up all that alcohol - it's a strike for me when I just wanna chill or grab a bite to eat. Which is why I can't go wrong with The Taco Shop @ Underdogs located on 19th and Irving.

I remember going for the first time back in '08 to watch the Celtics take it from the Lakers, but it wasn't until the Giants' post-season that I officially made it my second home. Asides from the friendly staff, laid back atmosphere, and AWESOME patrons that make you feel like you're sitting bleachers at a ball game, their food is to fucking die for.

I've tried their tacos (Nick's way of course), and their burritos (San Diego or California pls!), but my absolute favorite items on the menu are the most simple ones - I'm talking elote, and chips with salsa and guacamole. l;kjdflkjaslkdfjlkasdf. First of all, I love the fact that they use the traditional cotija cheese on their corn instead of just parmesan. It totally makes a difference. Second, it tastes like they literally make the salsa and guacamole right when you order it. It's so flavorful and fresh. Dude, I'm getting excited just typing about it. But seriously, gimme an elote, some chips and guac, a pitcher of Dos Equis, and some sweet torture that only the SF Giants can bring and I am a very happy girl. It's hands down my favorite sports bar (asides from the ones by the park) to watch the games at.

See you there next season! I'll be the little girl with a beer in hand, black and orange everythang trying to tip toe over the crowd to see the tv screen!

So Easy, A Caveman Can Do It

Women may be from Venus and men might be from Mars but I promise u there's a little planet somewhere in between where they meet up, have drinks, and procreate. Because believe it or not - we are a lot more similar than we think, or at least would like to admit.

Men lie. Women lie. Men steal. Women steal. Men gossip (don't let them tell you any different either). Women gossip. Men fuck. Women fuck. Men cheat. Women cheat (don't let us tell you any different either). But while we may do a lot of the same things, a lot of the time we do it for different reasons.

And one of these "different reasons" is what I like to call, insurance. Yes as in car, and house, and life. Except this type is for your ego, and sanity, and heart. Because you should never leave home without it, and because after a woman's been hurt so many times she'll go to unconventional, unfair, unorthodox, and yes STUPID extremes to "protect" herself.

Like going out on dates with idiots she has no interest in, knowing damn well it won't top the amazing dinner she just went on with Mr. Wonderful. Like keeping 2 other dudes on the payroll to prevent from giving 100% of herself to just one dude even though he's soooo money. Or like kissing someone when they're crazy about someone else just so she feels like she's one step ahead of them. Just so in case somewhere down the line, he fucks her over, at the very least she can say, "It's aite. 'Cuz remember that one time ..."

FUCKING RIDICULOUS RIGHT? I agree. But I also unfortunately understand. Women don't do this shit 'cuz they want to. They do it 'cuz they feel like they HAVE to. Because they believe that if it seems too good to be true, it is. That they'll find a way to fuck it all up anyway. Or that even if he is a good man ... he's STILL a man and men are bound to stray eventually. Hey, I never said it made it OK. I never said it was justified, I'm just sayin ...

However, I also understand that partaking in this type of immature, insecure behaving can result in being your own cock block and losing what could possibly be the best thing to ever walk into your life with an amazing smile that STILL makes you melt, and eyes you can see your future together in. It can result in you being unhappy and alone.

So how about a quote from me to you. Some insurance. Write it down or embed it in your brain so that like a good neighbor or sister or best friend or even blog, it'll always be there: "YOU ARE EXQUISITE. AND YOU ARE THE ONE." If not for him, for someone else. So no matter what happens, YOU WILL BE OK. If you want to go out on dates. If you want to kiss someone else. If you want to have one last hoorah, go right on ahead. But do it because ... you WANT to. Not because you're paranoid. Or scared. Or jaded. 'Cuz in this case, only YOU are liable for the damage that may potentially be done."

Now can I get a hot tub?!

Insomnia.

IS A BITCH. Especially when you're thirstier than a mufucka and all you got to drink is a bottle of Vueve.

So now, I'm wide awake. Missing things I shouldn't miss. Remembering things that don't exist. Listening to this .. and thinking about shit that doesn't even matter.

I'd close my eyes and listen if I were you. Dope rendition, but their jerky movements and constipated facial expressions throw me off a little.

The Day After

By now everyone should be settled in with the fams, eating leftovers from Christmas dinner in their brand new cheetah print snuggies or at the mall participating in the frenzy. Either way, I hope yall had the BEST Christmas ever! This year I was lucky enough to get two things that were on my list: an Iphone 4 (ESPN Score Center app btw is the BEST APP EVER!) and the Giants potato head doll I've been wanting since post-season! It's so cute, I don't even wanna open it. I am one happy camper.

But the best gift of all was being able to spend the holiday with some of my favorite people on Earth, including this 'lil guy right here who would not take his damn finger outta his nose! I am truly blessed to have such amazing people in my life. And I can't wait to make even more memories with them and all of you this coming new year!Lazy Sundays as usual, back on the blog-dizzle tomorrow. Have a good rest of the weekend everyone!

Fall For My Type

I wonder how it feels to be you.

Having to look at me.

Look at him.

The same way I used to look at you.

I almost feel bad. Because I know how it feels to pull a conversation out your ass in hopes that it will make the other person remember a special memory the two of you had. Or maybe, just MAYBE - miss you back.

So how does it feel when I don't pick up, or reply. Or answer the way I used to? No smiley faces or good mornings. No "I had a great time."

Remember when I used to sniff your neck and kiss that part right behind your earlobe?

Remember when I used to trace the definition of your muscles and work my way down?

I wonder how it feels to sit across from me during dinner. Just like we used to. Talking about everything and nothing at all. Same ol', Same ol' - yet not the same at all.

Because NOW? I'm not looking at you gasping for a breath of fresh air. Choking on anxiety. I'm not trying to search for answers or a way to get in. I'M NOT CRYING INSIDE. I'm not wondering if you're for real, or second guessing myself. You. Us. Because NOW? Dinner is just a slice of pizza and spaghetti with meatballs for you, and linguine with clams for me. It's just a formality.

Because NOW? I'm not making excuses for you. Or giving you the benefit of the doubt. Or refusing to look at the facts. You probably don't even care. And that's fine. All that matters is I don't either. I just look at you and see you, your slice of cheese pizza, plate of spaghetti and meatballs, and everything I loved about you ... and everything I DON'T EVER want in a man.

Champagne Showers Bring ...

Our boy Timmy. I fucking LOVE this picture. Yes, I'm still gushing about our win. And no, it ain't over yet. Someone asked me earlier if I was excited for Christmas and for the first time ever I said yes - but only because it means I'm THAT much closer to celebrating New Years with 3 of my favorite girls.

False Advertising

About a year ago I had the pleasure of attending the Lady Ga-Ga concert at the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium. Dressed in all black everythang, with one of my best girls by my side, and a bottle of Henn and apple juice in hand, it made for an AMAZING evening. However, the days leading up to the event? Not so much. Matter fact, I almost boycotted the entire thing.

Instead of going directly through Lady Ga-Ga's website, I purchased 2 tickets from Stubhub at $90 a piece because they were sold as "Section G orchestra seating" and my pint size ass was NOT tryna fight no 6 ft. 7 trannies for a good view. But I come to find out that there was NO SUCH THING as a section G. It was general admission and standing room only. In other words, I paid more than I should've for something that didn't even exist. I fell victim to false advertising at its best.

Thankfully, the concert itself made up for it. But sometimes we aren't always so lucky. Sometimes, our "knight in shining armor is really just a retard dressed in tin foil."

And that's the thing that gets me the most. Not the stereotypical bad boys or obvious good guys. I'm talking about people in general who present themselves as one thing but are a completely different package once you unwrap them. There's always more than meets the eye when it comes to people, but it doesn't mean it's ok to pull the wool over them.

It's almost never that a woman falls for a man who beats them, calls them fat, steals their money, and then hollers at the waitress all on the first date. Usually, they woo you 'til you're suckered in and THEN cheat/beat/steal/etc. It's not always that serious either. Most of the time men just put in the most effort in the beginning, and then don't feel the need to anymore once they got their girl. Which I guess is something we'll just have to accept. 'Cuz people get comfortable. It's a part of life and of course goes both ways and we must learn to pick and choose our battles. But if women must come to the realization that we can't have it all, how about the men help us out then and not sell themselves as a brand new Aston Martin knowing damn well they're a lemon.

This blog isn't about a man who buys you flowers in the beginning of the relationship and then stops. Nor is it about women who wear fake eyelashes. It's about the nitty gritty shit. The shit that matters. So if you're really not this sweet, be sour. If you're not really this attentive and thoughtful and caring - don't be. Ladies, if you're insecure and high-maintenance - let it be known! Sure it may scare some people away. But at least then they know what they're getting into. And at least then you'll know, that if they decide to stay, they really like YOU FOR YOU.

*And yes, this post applies to both men and women. However, stating it from mostly one perspective makes it easier to write lol*

29 going on 10

Podophobia

If you know me, then you'll know there is one thing that grosses me out more than anything in the world, and that's FEET.

Yeah I get it, everyone has them and we need feet to walk and shit. And while I'll admit that a clean pair of Js always looks better on some small, girl feet - that is just about the extent of my "foot fetish". But just plain, old out in the open bare feet? I CANNOT. I said it before and I'll say it again: the only cute feet to me are baby feet. I give a fuck if you have no corns, no bunions, or if your feet smell like potpourri. Even if you're a foot model, your feet are ugly.

Now, I get the dudes who simply wanna make sure a chicks feet aren't busted. Don't trip, I seen Boomerang. But thennn. Thennn, you get the weirdos that wanna suck on your toes. The ones that would rather see your feet than a titty. I've had the occasional dudes who would purposely stare at my toes when I wore sandals just to get a kick outta making me squirm. But it wasn't until the last guy I dated that I met someone with a full on foot fetish.

Apparently, when he was little his mom put him in the center of the room filled with his aunties and made him give all of them a foot massage. 25 or so years later, it then evolved into him wanting to kiss my feet when my legs were on his shoulders during sex. And I kid you not no matter how epic the sex was, I would push his face away. I ain't knockin it. To each their own. I'm sure there's some shit I'm into that other people aren't. It's just that ...

I. DON'T. GET. IT.

The following are a few other things I don't get, that should've never been invented, and give me the heebie jeebies:

The toe ring: The least of my nightmares but still on the list. Because, ok REALLY? WHY? That's all I'm asking, WHY?

Toe socks: OK seriously. What the fuck is the point? Was it killing someone so bad that they didn't have gloves for their feet? It's not like you're gonna write with your toes. I get why we have gloves as opposed to mittens for your hands but was this shit really necessary?


I don't even know wtf these are: And as an avid runner (OK not so avid during the rainy season), I can appreciate that these are ergonomic for your feet but I like to refrain from looking like a frog/alien life form as much as possible. Give me some customs or even Frees and I'm good.
Press on toenails: Pssst hey. Hey you. Just like them acrylics on your fingers I CAN TELL THAT YOUR TOENAILS ARE FAKE!!!!!!!!!! I definitely see it's purpose but that shit right there just doesn't look right. I have a better solution to fucked up toenails: SHOES.


And lastly, this shit right HERE. Even worse, when a chick jacks off a dude with her feet. What are they called? FOOT JOBS? I FUCKING DIE NOW.

OK, rant over. I cannot believe I made it through this post without yacking. Wait, never mind I feel it coming alkjsddkfljsdf. A lot of yall asked though, so here's your reply. But just so you know, one of the only 2 things I'm high maintenance about are mani/pedis and I make sure to get one AT LEAST once a month. AT LEAST. Just because I don't like my feet don't mean I ain't gonna take care of 'em. Because what I DO like are shoes. Heels. Pumps. Sandals. Wedges. And this includes open toes. And a nice pedicure with some open toes should be a common courtesy. No, it should be the law.

If there's anything you feel "weird" about or anything you'd like to add onto this list feel free to! RANT OVER lol.

Vagina Monologues

"Last night I masturbated to porn starring a guy that looked just like him. THIS IS ALL BAD. Same facial structure, same body type. Even their fucking penis was the same size. I swear my vagina hopped in my car and drove to his house. I HAD A FUCKING OUT OF VAGINA EXPERIENCE. I believe it's still there right now. Remind me to call a cab for it later 'cuz it would be too risky if I went and picked it up myself."

LMAO, this bitch.

Do For Like

I know a girl who once took BART all the way from Millbrae to Embarcadero and then hopped on another train all the way to Dublin/Pleasanton. The very next day she took the same Dublin/Pleasanton train to 12th and Oakland, transferred back onto the SFO/Millbrae train, and then finally hopped on the L-train home - ALL FOR A DUDE.

For those of you NOT from the Bay, lemme break it down to you like this:

This may not sound like much to some but this is the same girl who was also too lazy to take a 15 minute drive to get some Wingstop for dinner so she starved instead.

But this wasn't just any dude, this was a dude she knew would've done the same for her ... if he hadn't already called in sick and drove an hour and a half just to lay next to her for a few hours, or dropped bread on her flight just so they could wake up next to each other on the other side of the continent even though they weren't even boyfriend or girlfriend ... yet.

It never ceases to amaze me, the things we are capable of doing for the person we care about. The ends we are willing to meet just to be able to squish their face in between your hands or receive a kiss from them on your shoulder. The things we do, for like - which of course then get shitted on by the things we do for LOVE.

Everyone has their own limits, promises they make to themselves that have nothing to do with the other party. But the fact we even consider smearing the line says a lot. Because when we really feel for someone, like the saying goes: "If there's a will, there's a way." And if there isn't one? Often times, we'll make one.

So remember that the next time you make excuses for someone. Someone you know deep down inside is "just not that into you." Be reasonable, but don't lie to yourself. Because if someone I was crazy about drove from LA to SF for me and I was 1 phone call away from seeing them - I don't give a fuck WHAT I was doing. Taking a shit, at lunch, or moving, you best believe I got a death grip on my phone so I don't miss his call.

People get busy. They have basketball practice, a paper to write, and baby showers to attend, but even the president has time to take his wife out to dinner every week. There's a difference between someone being busy, and someone just being too busy for YOU.

Best 9 Seconds of my LIFE

(That's what you hope she DOESN'T say)

Good lookin out Kat and Eugene for inviting me along.
Now I don't have to camp out when the actual trophy tour starts!
I only wish I could drink champagne outta it.
Have an amazing weekend everyone!

Soul Stealers

"The only thing I wish? I wish a n*gga WOULD."

When you are truly passionate about something it becomes your passion. And when you're passionate about something - and I'm talking even more than I am about the Giants - it becomes your THING. Picasso's thing was painting. Charlie Parker's thing was the saxaphone. Michael Jordan's thing was basketball. My thing? Take a wild guess. And anyone whose "thing" is also my "thing" knows that plagiarizing is not only pathetic, but shameful, and a blow to ones own self-esteem as well.

I have ZERO tolerance for plagiarism. While no "concept" is original I write from my fucking heart (and ok sometimes vagina *ahem*) so take heed that you are not just stealing words from my brain, YOU ARE STEALING BITS AND PIECES FROM MY SOUL. And I am the fucking gatekeeper of this house. Likewise, I could never steal from someone else. Because not only does it not feel good when you get acclaim for it, but it's basically saying, "I am not good enough so I have to steal from someone else." And I don't fucking play that shit. GTFOH.

Time to start getting my shit copyrighted.

Happy Hayati Birthday!

I swear I JUST did one of these for this broad last month. But alas it was last year and 2010 simply blew right by us. I love this girl. That is all. I don't care if we've only known each other since 2008, quality over quantity. She tells me to shut up when I'm talking stupid, and tells me to change when I look stupid ... 'cuz I'd do the same for her. Maligayang bati Ms. Binibini 2010!

Hi.

The Beginning of the End

Written 8/31/10 finished today.


Finish your dinner and you get dessert. Finish your homework and you get to play COD. Finish the race and you get a nice, shiny trophy and bragging rights.

But lemme tell you, it doesn't always feel good to start something and finish it.

Ending a relationship, for whatever reason, although at times imperative, is never an easy thing to do. Because even if you're the one calling it quits, you can still feel like failure.

You think, "Fuck, why couldn't it have just worked out?" And if you're anything like me you'll take all the blame even when it's not your fault. Then, you'll take whatever anger or disappointment you feel, and multiply it by 10. 'Cuz as we've already established, I am an emotional cutter.

I can honestly say that I've done more breaking up, than being broken up with. I'm not gonna sit here like a jerk either and say that I'd rather get hurt than have to hurt someone else (fuck that!) BUT I will say that regardless, it does hurt both ways. To have to walk away from something you've invested your time, mind, body, and heart into ... for lack of better words - SUCKS.

I've spent a few days, ok I'm lying - weeks, wondering just THAT. Why couldn't it have just worked out? What could I have done to make it different? Was it something I did? Was it something I didn't do? What happened? And then I answered my own questions: 'Cuz it didn't. Nothing. Too late. Who cares? It doesn't matter.

It's done, and I ended. You ended it. He ended it. Now you just have to trust that it ended ... so that something better can start.

And because great minds think alike, u get a 2-for-1 today.
(For those of you confused, no these two posts aren't related)

Good Lookin Out

The homie Nick was lucky enough to be in the same room as the WS 2010 trophy at the j-o-b today and tried to make me feel as if I was there. Blurry, but it's the thought that counts! I cry now. And NO, I'm STILL not over it.

About Face

You learn something from every relationship you're in. Sometimes they're good things, and sometimes they're bad things. Regardless, you always learn something new. Unfortunately, the last guy I dated taught me that if you give a liar a second chance, more than likely all he'll do is lie to you a second time. Thankfully, I made the conscious decision to leave before I could confirm that. So fortunately, the last guy I dated also taught me that I am in a place in my life where I am in fact stronger than I think. That I can be proactive and walk away, despite the fact that my heart may be kicking and screaming to be left behind. Sure, I've looked back. He was mighty nice to look at, but when I look back I also see everything I DON'T want in a partner.

In general, I've learned plenty of lessons. Most of them, the hard way. It got to a point where I was so sick and tired of learning lessons I had a talk with God one day and said outloud through sobs of frustration, "OK I'm fucking tired of LEARNING. Am I done yet?" Then I realized the lessons weren't necessarily there to teach me what and what not to do. They were there to make me the person I am today, the person I was meant to be - good AND bad traits.

Because of my relationships, I've learned to be kinder. More considerate. Appreciative. I've learned not to raise my voice, slam car doors, or kick my boyfriends dashboard. I realized that men want to feel loved and wanted just as much as women do. That they hope you notice their new haircut, and like it when you compliment them. To listen and most of all THINK before I speak. That ALL men have a jealous bone in them no matter how nonchalant they may seem so that guy who just told you he doesn't care if you got a man while your mans at the bar? TELL HIM TO GO AWAY. NOW. I've learned that while you don't need to be Martha Stewart, making the bed and cooking dinner is always a "good thing." I've learned that sometimes, even though it may not make sense, you just need to let a man be and feel like a MAN.

Buuut from my past relationships, I've also built a newfound low threshold for bullshit that I normally would've accepted in the past. I've acquired the art of calming the fuck down and marinating on my feelings before reacting to it. Because the best response is no response and I have gotten good at giving the silent treatment when deserved. Not answering the phone, responding to texts, or replying to emails is no longer a life threatening task for me. I've learned to set reasonable standards and stick to them. And while it's not always guaranteed, I've finally learned to listen to my heart but follow my mind when necessary. Which is all wonderful for me, but for the next guy? Not so much.

So while Mister Next can thank the ex for breaking me down so I can build myself back into a new and improved ME as I've explained here, you can also thank them for turning me into what some may call - a BITCH. Because while I've learned which relationships are worth staying in, I've also learned when it's appropriate to walk and in some cases, run the fuck away. And THAT is one of the best lessons I've learned thus far.

Hella, Hella.

I mean, what can I say? The hotness that is my girl Ashley Vee, Adapt Clothing, and America's favorite pussy. Support the homies, and cop some gear HERE just in time for Christmas!

BRB!

Off to the happiest place on Earth for the bff's bday,
Have a wonderful weekend everyone!

Cry Me A River, Please

Originally written 11/9 for ... me. Finished today, 12/9 for you. you. you. and YOU. And hell, me still.

If you want to cry, cry. It's ok, go ahead.

I know they told you not to. That big girls don't cry. That there's no crying in baseball. But guess what? Baseball seasons over.

So if you want to cry, please do. I have a carton of Mitchell's (avocado of course), 1.7 liters of Jeremiah Weed, and a big box of Puffs with your name written all over it. Plus, I have me. And her. And him.

A wise woman once told me before that the piece of mind you're desperately searching for will return. But you already know this. And if there's anybody in the world that knows you're going to be ok - it's YOU. But for now? You can take off the cape, and throw a shirt over that S on your chest and let the world know you're only human.

So if you want to sob until you're ugly in the face, and empty in your heart - as much as it pains me to say this, go right on ahead. I know it won't solve anything, but I promise that one (or two) big cries will momentarily make you feel even just a tad bit better.

Because even though you're one of the strongest people I know - you can't carry the weight of your world on your shoulders forever. So here, lemme take a load off. Or at least, keep you company while I sit here in silence and pretend not to listen to you cry.

Cry me a river. Cry me a lake. Cry me an ocean. And I'll help you build whatever it takes to keep you afloat. So that you're no longer drowning, but playing in the water once again.

This is Sports Center

And THIS is a hilarious commercial. Love this and the Lincecum one.

The Art of Storytelling

Last night, I got one of the most AMAZING emails ever. It read:

"That is what I get when I read your words. Like... I find myself falling in love with love. As if it were this great piece of historic literature on romance... or a brilliant movie in the same genre (romance). That has never occurred before in my life with random words. And it is very powerful and has such an influential impact. I absolutely love that it makes me think... feel... hope. It is rather marvelous Abi."

Now I promise I didn't share that with you to fish for more compliments due to my ever increasing ego, but rather because I am unbelievably humbled. Because with each flattering comment or heartfelt email I get, I am more and more grateful. And I'll tell you why.

Growing up, I always loved writing. But it wasn't until online social networking began that I became deeply touched by other people's words. Before I found my own voice (and this thing called blogging) I would get chain emails with gems like Balcony Seats, and read inspiring MySpace headlines like, "Don't wish it were easier, Wish you were better," or, "Everything will be ok in the end. If it's not ok, it's not the end." And whenever I'd read something that especially touched me, emotion would spill. I'd want to cry or laugh or break something. But what I'd really want to do was meet the author.

I wanted to meet the person be their friend and say, "Hey, get the fuck outta my head!" Or at the very least, give them a hug and say "THANK-YOU." Thank-you for letting me know I'm not alone. Does any of this sound familiar? It should, because it's some of the same things yall say to me. So you see, there is nothing special about me or this blog. There is nothing different between you and I.

Almost a year ago today, I was in probably the greatest depression I've ever felt in my life. I spent my Christmas with my mom watching Avatar, but before the movie started she ate at Mel's. And I say she, because I could not eat. And had not eaten for 3 days. I felt hopeless. And thinking positive was synonymous to seeing a pig fly. So for me to get that email yesterday saying I gave someone HOPE of all things is RIDICULOUS to me right now. I repeat FUCKING RIDICULOUS.

I never let the comments I get from readers get to my head. NEVER. Because everytime you say that I've helped you, please know you've helped me as well. Everyday I am overwhelmed and appreciative by the fact I am able to evoke emotion from strangers, even negative ones. That's all I could really ask for as someone who loves to write (asides from a BOOK DEAL *ahem* someone? anyone? lol). It validates NOT that I am a writer, but that I can do something I love and share it with others and help or entertain them along the way. It's a pretty sweet deal if I do say so myself.

So "Thank-you thank you thank you, you're far too kind. Hold your applause, this is your song not mine." Because as much as yall may like my shit? Some of the best stuff I've ever read has came ... from YOU.

"Maybe He's THAT"

It's very rare you meet someone that you can text back and forth 47 times in one day without any explanation and not feel bad about it afterwards. Someone you can joke about his and her vanity mirrors and having at least 4 cute babies with. Someone who would watch you walk back from ordering a drink across the room and think, "Hell yeah, that's my fucking woman." And since you like them just as much as they like you, you're thinking, "Hell yeah, that's my fucking man."

Usually, you worry about smothering them. About scaring them away or turning them off. About following the "rules," and giving up too much too soon. So you strategically time your text responses. You bite your tongue and gag your heart, and hold back when you want to say or do so much more. Maybe even miss their phone calls ... on purpose. And you don't let them think you care, not because you don't, but because you're too paranoid to let them know.

So then you wonder how the fuck is this possible? How could this good looking guy actually be a good guy? I just told him I missed him and he said I miss you more? And you believed him! 'Cuz he really meant it! WTF is going on in the world? You've seen a love like this before, but only in third person. Two people meet, like each other (a lot), and everything just flows?

"That kinda shit never happens to me."

"Maybe he's THAT"

That meaning butterflies, and glitter, and sunshine, and cupcakes, and Easter, and the gay parade. That meaning it's patient, and kind, and honest, and grown, and REAL. That meaning the hellos keep getting better and better and the good byes worse and worse. So they leave your house after spending all night with you ... and call you as soon as they wake up in the morning. AND IT'S OK.

Because that's what happens when two people genuinely like each other. And stop playing games. And don't hold back. Because the chase is only the best part when you catch that person and then realize they're not really what you want.

So here's the thing: If it seems suspect, it probably is suspect. And if you gotta even ask? Well then there's your answer. Like L-Boogie says, "It could all be so simple," and when it's for real? It will be.

Dev Makes My Booty Bounce

By now, I'm pretty sure yall have heard of Dev, the former Hellz intern who as Lawn said, "Has officially made it."


If not, maybe this will ring a bell. Yes, yes. That infamous slizzard hook? Hers.


Well she's back with her latest single and I am officially a fan. 'Cuz if you wanna get with me there's some things you gotta know - I like my beats fast and my BASS DOWN LOW #true story.

Believe.

I don't believe in too many things. Not the tooth fairy. Not Santa Claus. Not mermaids. Not even vampires (omg did I just say that?). But I do believe in love. Not just any kind of love, but the inconvenient kind that makes your soul sing and heart explode. I guess it's the hopeless romantic in me. 'Cuz even in my darkest hours, I always believed in that kind of love - I just never believed it could happen to me.

You know what I also believe in? Sex. Not just any kind of sex, but the headboard breaking kind that makes you speak in tongues and see visions of Jesus. What can I say? I guess it's the horn-ball in me. But most importantly, I believe you can have that kind of love AND that kind of sex with the same person. Does everyone find it? I don't know. But does it exist? I refuse to believe it doesn't.

Why shouldn't it? Why can't it?

Granted, this type of relationship occurs far from often and may in fact be one in a million, but don't let past relationships gone wrong or cynical, independent movie plotlines lead you to believe that it's impossible. You don't have to spend your days with rose colored stunnas on and your head in the clouds, but if you think that there is no such thing as explosive sex in a "healthy" relationship, then you're obviously never going to have it 'cuz you wouldn't know to accept the opportunity even if you tripped and landed on its dick. Or even worse, you'll allow yourself to settle or lower your standards based on false pretenses. Come on now, you gotta want more for yourself than that?!

Don't get me wrong, you don't need to have mind-blowing sex to be in a fully functional, nurturing relationship. Chances are someone dicked you down better than the dude you're currently head over heels over now, and that's OK. Sex isn't EVERYTHING, but neither is love. And I've been in a relationship where I would've caught a bullet for my man - yet couldn't stand to even tongue kiss him. So if something as complicated as a loving but sexless relationship exists, why can't something as simple as having amazing sex with an amazing person exist too?

Remember, there's a difference between being cynical and being realistic. I didn't say the perfect man is out there, I said a sex life as good as the person you're with is. And if you can't believe in that, then you might as well believe in the Easter Bunny.

M.I.A. to MIA

"Where I go they wear bikinis in the winter too now.

What you think 'bout tan lines on the skin of you now"

It's been 5 years, can't wait to meet again.

Santa, Baby

Dude, my Christmas list this year looks like it belongs to a 9 year-old cross-dressing athlete.

Nevertheless, I've been a real good girl ;o)

What's on YOUR Christmas list?

(Bitter)Sweet November

The Great Pretender

Let's play pretend.

Let's pretend me and you like each other. So much that when no one's looking I lay my head on your shoulder and let you kiss me on my forehead and when someone catches us? I don't even tell you to stop. So much, that I actually let you hold my hand.

Then after that let's pretend we really, really like each other. So much that I fall asleep next to you at night and make breakfast for you in the morning. So much that I put my guard down long enough for you to deliver a right hook to my heart. So much that, get this - we fall in love. And we do all the tender shit that couples in love do like go on tropical vacations together or stay in bed all day being fat, watching tv, talking about everything in the world but doing absolutely nothing at all.

Let's pretend shall we, that we can see into the future. And all you can see is you, being happy with me. I know it sounds crazy, but remember we're just playing pretend. So then let's pretend we chase dreams together - and catch them. And you wake up in the morning to breakfast in bed, with a side of head, and as you shower for work I walk to work ... in our living room. And then we have the same dream one night where we both wake up with the same last name. (I'm sorry but I'm hyphenating mine.)

Then let's pretend it's not a dream. And I look fly as hell in my custom Monique Lhuillier gown and you are the most handsome groom I've ever seen. Let's pretend I can't wait for the priest to hurry the fuck up so I can kiss my new husband already. Let's pretend we have the most crackin wedding ever with food so good guests wanna slap us, and all the groomsmen get Roly's and all the bridesmaids get Louboutins.

Let's pretend Boracay and Santorini are absolutely GORGEOUS. And we can't remember which country we conceived our first child in. But it doesn't matter anyway because we have three more ;) It's fun to play pretend huh?

So how about for now, we just pretend. That. I don't have commitment issues. And you don't have a past. Let's pretend mine isn't so recent. And I'm not scared and confused and lost and bi-polar and FUCKING LOCA. Let's pretend that once I let you in, you're not going to be kicking and screaming to get the fuck out. Let's pretend I know what I want and the fact that most of your friends are married with children has nothing to do with anything. Let's pretend that everytime my phone rings and its you - I don't hesitate to answer. Let's pretend I'm not going to push you away and you're not going to let me.

Tupacalypse Now

Pac is definitely on my Top 3 list of people alive or dead that I would've loved to interview. Where? Either Malibu or Great America. Why? Because gangsters don't play miniature golf. And 'cuz I'd wanna see if he screams on rollercoasters. Pac partly because there's so many unanswered questions, and partly 'cuz he's fine as FECK. But mostly because I'm convinced there's so much more to him than we see.

Can't Stop, Won't Stop.

I never thought you could change a man. I wasn't that naive now. But I did use to think there was a way you can make him be faithful.

That if you did certain things like cook for him, buy him things, and fuck him good - that he wouldn't stray. And that if you didn't do certain things like nag, smother, or complain - that he wouldn't cheat.

But the thing is ... you can't make anyone, what more a man, do anything.

Because if a man wants to cheat? No 5-course meal will keep him satisfied. No shiny, new toy will keep him interested. And like I once heard before, no sex is better than new sex. Because if a man wants to cheat? HE WILL CHEAT. No matter how long yall been together, no matter what you two have been through. No matter how fly you are, and no matter how hard you stay holding him down.

"Because a man is only a man, nothing less. Nothing more."

So. If you want to ask him why he hasn't texted you all day when he normally does but wanna act like it doesn't bother you? If you want to question why there's something "odd" on his coffee table that wasn't there the last time you stayed over but don't wanna seem like it's sweatin you? If you want to tell him you miss him but don't because you're trying to act like you don't care? If you want to act a little irrational, but hold it all in for fear of being accused of "trippin"? You might as well just do it. Then at least, even if he was lying to you, you wouldn't be lying to yourself.

Or you could just not let it stress you either way. Because if he's going to cheat? He's going to cheat anyway.

::P.S. I am WELL aware that women cheat too. There's nowhere in this post I say they don't. Not only do I know they cheat, but I know they do it better. If there is such a thing as "good cheating," lol. Don't worry, I'll save that for another post.::

Isaiah.

One of the many things I'm thankful for this year.
I swear, he makes my ovaries scream!

This pic makes me sad because I know he'll eventually get too big and cool to fall asleep on my shoulder. Good thing he's having a *ahem* sister soon!

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving and has an even more amazing weekend!

Gobble-Gobble Yall!

Good Guy Gone Bad

It's official, I'm a fan of the nice guy.

Not that I've ever applauded the "asshole." And not to say good guys don't do bad things. I'm just sayin. And you know what? That's just fine. Because while we want you to be honest, faithful, and treat us with respect, there is one exception to the rule and one time we want you to be bad (not bad meaning bad, but bad meaning good) - and that's when you're hittin it from the back while pulling our hair.

You know how men want a lady in the streets but a freak in the sheets? Well, bitches like me want our nice guys to be assholes ... in bed. Yah I said it.

I don't mean cheat, lie, and manipulate us under the covers. I don't even mean punch, kick, or slap us while we're doing the deed. Actually, I take that last part back lol. I just mean a lil' man handling ain't never hurt nobody.

You can kiss me hello, open doors for me, pull out my chair, and hold my hand in public. But behind closed doors? I want you to bite my shoulder, hold my wrist down, push me up against the wall, and put your hands around my neck and apply just the slightest bit of pressure. Yes, I want you to choke me. Tell me you love me when we say good-bye, tell me how beautiful I look in the morning, and say thank-you when I pack you lunch. So that on a really good night? I'll let you get away with saying, "You like that bitch?"

Ooh no she didn't.

Ooh yes I did. Because while real women appreciate nice guys, real women don't want pushovers ... especially in bed. Because strong women still want to be put in their place once in while. And one of these whiles is during sex. Because if I really wanted to fuck a bitch, I'd fuck one of my hot ass girlfriends.

Just Sayin

There you go again.
Lookin all fly and shit.
Got my girls all flustered and shit.
Even got the dudes all yes homo and shit.
I'd hit?
Shiiit, I'm just sayin.

'Cuz it should really be illegal for you to have that shade of stare.
That hue of baby-blue, can't fucking look directly at you,
'Cuz I'm not ready to have babies.
We just datin, and I ain't playin ... I'm just sayin.

And I ain't even gonna lie, there's other guys ...
But right here? Right now? There's no way, no how
You ain't my main visual. Them? They just peripheral.
And I don't need no prescription to see that you could possibly be the one.
Dont trip - I'm just sayin,

But I'm also sayin,
I just got out of sumthn
And to be honest, I kinda wanna have fun?
Correction - I AM having fun.
Not doing him or doing him, but doing ME.
So please R-E-S-P-E-C-T and - B-E-Z
Is all I'm sayin.

'Cuz once it's you and me - IT'S YOU AND ME
I ain't hittin and just quittin ...
It's just that. Well.
I'm a little scared of the commitment.
But maybe things could be different?
I'm just sayin though.

So.
Would you be mad if I wanted to save the best for last?
Not that I'm asking you to wait.
Not that I'd make you wait to begin with.
I'm. just. sayin.

Music Monday

This past week was filled with live music and some of my favorite people on Earf. So in honor of that (and the fact that I'm still half asleep and can't write a blog of substance), here's what's currently on repeat today.

Never Gonna Give You Up - Raphael Saadiq, CJ Hilton, and Stevie Wonder
Lurrrve the old school feelin on this track.


Right Here - Goapele
Asides from Bruno Mars, I was lucky enough to catch the beautiful Goapele at Yoshi's in Oakland last night. This is my favorite track so far off her new album.


Heavy - CJ Hilton feat. Tyga and Fat Joe
And my favorite of them all, which I am playing the fuck out as I type.

"I wanna get you outta your clothes, and into my bed
Baby that's only if you're ready, Ooh it's getting heavy
Slammin the doors, so bring your body right here
And I'll make you love it if you let me
Ooh it's getting heavy, Girl it's so hard ..."

5-9

"...I swear nothing worse than a bad bitch that lost it

Brains off the chain, smart mouth with a dumb ass,

God damn your ex man is a dumb ass

When you was leaving did he put up a fight?"

Feliz CUMpeleanos Yonathan Sanchez!

See you tonight mi amor lol.

And just because, totally unrelated (i swear! lol) a 'lil Tony Toni Tone to end your Friday and start your weekend off right. I've had this song on repeat for the past week. TGIF yall!

Head vs. Heart

I can't remember the last time somebody told me to listen to my head instead of my heart. Oh wait, that's because NOBODY has ever told me to do that. Quite honestly, I wish someone did. Or at least, put the idea out there. Or at the very least, didn't speak of it as if it were the Antichrist.

'Cuz I really don't think it's as bad as it sounds.

Sure, we'll never know what could happen if we don't take the risk. But if that's the case, we won't know what we're missing either. It's like being born deadly allergic to chocolate. Long as you never try it, then you'll never know how delicious it is. Sounds like a jaded rant doesn't it? Naw, simply logic perception. Which is probably why it never works. Because when emotions are involved, all logic gets thrown out the window ... along with picture frames, clothes, Js, and video game consoles lol.

They say "Love conquers all." Does it really? 'Cuz I beg to differ. As long as there's love you've got a chance, but I said it before and I'll say it again: Love is never enough. Otherwise there would be less divorces, more happy families, infidelity would be synonymous with unicorns, and I'd be married with one kid and another one on the way by now.

Don't get me wrong, following your heart is not only encouraged - but courageous as well. I've got my stripes to prove it. But there comes a point in everyone's lives where after doing the same thing over and over and over again, and coming up with the same negative results over, and over and over again - YOU GOTTA STOP THAT SHIT. And if it means following your head instead of your heart, well then ...

Everyone reaches this epiphany at different times in their lives, and I guess my time is now. I'm not bitter - I'm better. This is NOT because I don't make mistakes anymore (Jesus Christ, I just made a huge one not too long ago). It's just that it's easier for me to pick and choose my battles, distinguish who and what's worth fighting for, and most importantly - learn from my mistakes. And one thing I've learned, is that it doesn't hurt to listen to your head every now and then.

I won't tell you to do the same but I will tell you to at least consider it. I just did, and guess what? I'm a happy fucking camper. The mind is 1-0 right now and I ain't even mad. Because another thing I've learned, is when you listen to your mind at the right time - it leads you to love anyway.

Merry Mary!

I fucking love this girl right here, and that's really all I have to say. Happy birthday biznatch, can't wait to finally party with you on my home turf. Get that liver ready, 'cuz it's 'bout to be all buss! lol.

Doo Wops, Hooligans, and Horny Girls

Bruno Mars is ill, this much I already knew. But I wasn't that big of a fan until I saw him perform live at Slim's last night. His voice was impeccable and sounded exactly the same if not better than on the radio. And as an added bonus? He was funny. Yall know how I feel about funny dudes. Safe to say a lot of females TUI'd last night. Fellas, you can thank Bruno Mars for that. Smooth little fucker lol.

Lots of clips of last nights show on You Tube but just thought I'd share this one since you can hear my loud ass scream "Heyyyyyyy," during it lol.