Friday, October 29, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Jonathan Sanchez . - aka the B.D. aka my favorite aka Latino Heat aka Viva la Sexy aka mi amore Yonathan. Maybe not the best pitcher, especially since he's been fuckin up a lot lately but he's definitely contributed to the post season success. And if he can just focus back to his no-no last July, I may accept the wedding proposal. 6'00", Puerto Rican, and have you seen the way he licks his fingers before every pitch? Yah baby you, curve your balls here ANYTIME.
Brian Wilson - aka B-Weezy aka the Bad Boy aka FEAR.THE.BEARD. aka "the one guy on the team that looks a little OFF". I've always known who he was but never looked at him in that way until the beard started growing in. What way you may ask? A "Please pitch on MY mound," kinda way. A "I wanna sit on your flavor savor" kinda way. Yes, I fell victim to the "bad boy," and I am not the least bit ashamed.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Growing up, the almost unrealistic concept of saving yourself for marriage was a reoccurring theme in most households where teenage girls lived. And the tale of the cow that nobody bought because she gave away her milk for free was a popular bedtime story.
Meanwhile, I was wishing I was Brenda in the 90210 episode where she lost her virginity to Dylan during prom. Needless to say I didn't wait 'til marriage lol. But subsequently, I can still count the number of men I've slept with using two hands, and as I've annoyingly mentioned numerous times I've yet to have a one night stand or a successful booty-call.
And if it sounds like I'm envious of women who've partook in these type of sexcapades it's 'cuz ... well, I kinda am.
Yes ladies, gentlemen, and all my younger readers who look up to me or see me as an "a'te," asides from a writer, fashion designer, teacher, broadcast journalist, and wardrobe stylist - I also wanted to be a whore when I grew up. OK, well maybe not a whore per'se ('cuz I definitely don't think that just 'cuz someone's had a bc or ons, it makes them a whore). Let's just say I yearned to be whore-ish. *Sigh* my mother would be so proud.
Now I know all of that sounds ridickulous. And I know there's more to life than waking up hungover in the Venetian with some fine ass stranger butt booty nekkid next to you and your bra swinging from the ceiling fan - yet I can't help but still feel slightly I dunno ... inadequate? inexperienced? boring? Ugh, I SUCK. I FUCKING SUCK.
For most of my life I prided my lack of promiscuity, while thinking men respected it. And while I didn't expect to be put on a pedastal because of it, I at least figured it would place me on a higher step than those who've been around the block one too many times. But I've come to learn an inconvenient truth - IT DOESN'T REALLY MATTER. So now I'm sitting here feeling as I've missed out on something.
And I guess I'll continue to feel that way ... because as much as I'd love for my next post to be about my crazy night that rivals the one they had in The Hangover, I don't predict one anytime in the near future. I'll eventually come to terms with it as I proceed to live vicariously through others. Because I rather be the "boring" girl that doesn't know how to separate emotions from sex, than the girl who cries after her booty call leaves because she thought she could separate the two, or the girl who cries after having sex with a stranger because it's not what she really wants.
Besides, quality over quantity. 'Cuz while I ain't sayin I'm the best lay in the world or even a good one, I'm definitely not inadequate or inexperienced. And sweetie, I definitely ain't boring.
I always knew I wanted a tattoo on my upper thigh, I just didn't know what of. After seeing a tattoo done by Orly from Humble Beginnings on his then girlfriend (now wife) Meesh, I became totally inspired. She had a tat of a lotus flower and some flowing water on her upper thigh, reaching towards her butt. But I couldn't think of anything beautiful and meaningful that would fit that part of my body so I forgot about it for a while.
[11:37] Girl 1: alskdfaskldfjasdklfj
[11:37] girl 2: yes yes
[11:37] girl 2: i hope so too
[11:37] girl 2: no astro glide necessary that way
[11:38] Girl 1: HAHAHAHAHAHAH
[11:39] girl 2: btw
[11:39] girl 2: fri night we attempted to try the KY
[11:39] girl 2: FAIL
[11:39] girl 2: FAIL
[11:39] girl 2: FAIL
[11:41] Girl 1: told u ky sucks!
[11:42] girl 2: well we didnt even use it for sex
[11:42] girl 2: i was tryna see if it wud warm up just in my hands
[11:42] girl 2: so he goes “put it on my dick”
[11:42] girl 2: so i try and im over it and go in to give him head and gag cuz it tastes so gross lmao
[11:42] girl 2: so i make him taste it on my hand and then he gets up and washes his dick LMAO
[11:43] girl 2: dont they know to make these things felatio friendly?
[11:44] Girl 1: oh some of them actually taste good
[11:44] Girl 1: i have one called D-lick-scious
[11:45] Girl 1: thats mint flavored. its like brushing ur teeth witha penis
[11:45] Girl 1: did i just say that?
[11:45] girl 2: ........
[11:45] girl 2: and thats y we're friends
[11:45] girl 2: i must try that one of these days
[11:45] girl 2: brushing my teeth with penis, not the lube
[11:47] Girl 1: LMFAO.
[11:47] Girl 1: i'm crying.
[11:47] Girl 1: best. convo. ever.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
I normally don't ask for the help of my readers. Actually, I still won't. I'm asking you to help the hundreds of women, and the people who love them fight against breast cancer. Yes, I do care about stuff outside the NLCS lol. But my bad for the short notice. And if you can't donate tell a friend. Awareness is just as important.
Click here to help create a world with less cancer and more birthdays!
- Uuuu-ribe's throw to first in the 9th? Way to come through in the clutch and do Jose proud with Will the Thrill in the stands. Take THAT wrist contusion!
- I'm extremely flattered Manuel put in Oswalt. You could tell he was tryna put in all the stops, but even the Wizard of Os couldn't stop us this time! We ain't in Kansas no more baby, and we DEF ain't in Philly. I understand why he did it, but I wonder if his team and especially his relief pitchers are disappointed with the lack of faith he had in them.
- Thank-you Sandoval for unleashing the Panda and reminding 30+ year olds why they're looking like a bunch of 3rd graders with Panda hats on. NO thank-you for almost making me cry with your post-interview. You know what they say, there's no crying in baseball!
- Posey? ROY. Ross? Post-season MVP.
- Wanna see a bunch of grown ass men act like giddy 3rd graders? Replay the dugout emptying after we made our game winning run last night. LOVE. LOVE. LOVE.
- After a lot of thought (ok, not so much thought) I've decided that YES. I'd totally let Wilson pitch on my mound. Something about that beard and slightly "off" demeanor that makes me think he's a choker in bed. But yall know my heart still belongs to Sanchez. Yonathan, not body-roll.
- Damn, I'm sorry that wasn't just a FEW things afterall.
Lastly, I've been getting asked A LOT, A LOT about what I think about band-wagon fans. Well here's an entertaining article in regards to that. I went over this in a previous post but I'll say it one last time. The only ones that are annoying, are the ones who live on Front St. But even then, it's whatever. 'Cuz really, what exactly makes a "true" fan anyway? The number of games you've been to? How well you know the stats? How much we talk shit even when we suck? The dollar worth of the Giants memorabilia you own? How many heart palpatations you get during the games? I really don't care. The more people cheering for the orange & black - the better.
Real Giants never talk SMALL anyway, so I won't even waste my time on haters and bandwagon fans. I just know that I love the Giants today as much as I loved them during one of the first games I went to this season back in April (yes you can check the blog for reference) and I'll be just as excited for when the next season rolls around.For my girl Kris's recap of Game 3 which we attended, peep her blog here!
Monday, October 18, 2010
When I was younger, 'til about my early twenties, maybe even 25, I was one nosy, petty ass, researching bitch. When I met a new dude who I was feelin, it was second nature for me to dig up his relationship history. Find out who his ex was, what she looked like, when they broke up, why they broke up, what they did on their anniversary, etc. etc. etc. Everything short of her shoe size and favorite cereal. WHY? Because I'm fucking masochistic.
Yet all the investigating never did me any good. Like, NEVER. All it did was drive me crazy, and stress me the fuck out for nothing. I basically let the past get in the way of the present, and I knew this was happening even at the time. It's just that I was too young and too stubborn to recognize that the past is the past for a reason. Just like how ex's are ex's for a reason, regardless of how intense the relationship or break-up.
I always write about how females shouldn't sweat the girl who preceded them, especially if it was me. Because it's a whole new chapter in a whole new book. One where I'm not a character in it. But I'll admit, its easy for me to say this because I haven't been in that situation as a grown-ass woman yet. So who knows. All I do know is. I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ANYTHING.
Don't ask, don't tell son. And really? Just don't ask 'cuz it shouldn't matter. IT DOESN'T MATTER. No matter which side you look at it. It's rude. It's incosiderate. It's unecessary. And it's none of your fucking business.
Unless she is still a part of NOW? I don't care what she was or how yall were THEN. Not her name. Not her occupation. Not how she looks (ok maybe how she looks lol). Not what car she drove. If she could sing. If she could dance. If she was athletic. Not how long yall were together. Or why yall broke up. And definitely not how the sex was. Because I don't want to wonder if I'm meeting the standards the last girl left behind.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
You're a breath of fresh air to me
Hi, I'm empty So tell me you care for me
You're the first thing
And the last thing on my mind
In your arms I feel, Sunshine"
This song literally gives me eargasms, it sounds like straight sex. I'm pretty sure I've already blogged it before but it's a lazy body-rolling kinda Friday and I can't wait to get the fuck outta here already. I was still drunk from last night until about an hour ago and all I wanna do now is take the mother of all naps. Have a wonderful weekend everyone!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
It reminded me of the time I picked him up from Bart with a bag of his favorite apple gummies in the center counsel for him - just because. Or that one time I hopped in his car to find a boquet of flowers waiting for me - just because. And while that relationship is over, I'll never get over the novelty of the "just because" or "for nothing" gift.
It's been a while since I've done or bought anything for any man just because ... and then? It happened. Just last night as matter of fact. Walked into one of my favorite places in the world, Target lol, and picked up some Neutrogena body wash, Oil of Olay moisturizer, Clean Linen Glade Plug-Ins, The Lost Boys on DVD 'cuz it was on sale for only $5.00 ... and then a car cd holder. You know, the kind you attach to your visor? Not because I needed one, but because everytime he makes a sharp turn all his CDs fall outta his visor sleeve and land on top of us.
What? It's happened at least three times. There's no need to cue Usher's U Got it Bad, or even T-Pain's I'm Sprung. Promise. It only cost $5.75 and I would've bought it for any of my friends. Buuuuut you're right, I didn't. I bought it for him. And while a functional (might I add very needed) CD holder doesn't exactly scream "OMG I want to be your girlfriend!" (at least I hope it doesn't), I do think the simple notion and thought behind it whispers, "Hi. I was thinking about you. I hope you think about me too" (at least I hope it does).
Yeah, yeah, yeah. The simple gesture could also say, "Your lazy ass is never gonna buy your own CD holder and I'm tired of shit falling in my lap so here thanks FOR NOTHING." I guess it all depends on the people involved. But to me, regardless of how it's taken, or what the gift is, as cliche as it sounds, it really is the thought behind it. I rather get a pair of $60 Giants bleacher tickets "for nothing," than a thousand dollar "i'm sorry" tennis bracelet.
Ultimately, a CD holder is just a CD holder. Not an engagement ring. Not a Macbook. Not even a pair of Js. But while a CD holder really isn't anything, it was done for nothing. And that to me? Definitely means something.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Me: You've never masturbated before?
Me: WTF do you do when you get horny and can't get dicked down then?
Her: I sleep
Me: YOU POOR THING ... please pass the ketchup
In no way do I think there's anything weird about this (ok maybe just a little), and it's not that I think somethings wrong with her (ok, slightly) ... it's just ... I just ... I mean ... OK REALLY YOU'V NEVER DOUBLE CLICKED THE MOUSE? Like, you never even accidentally brushed up on it while taking a shower and thought, "Ooh that felt kinda questionable?! ..."
Alright, maybe somethings wrong with me and I'm the weirdo for having as much of an issue with this as I do. Maybe I was just a curious little girl growing up. Or maybe I looked through too many of my cousins dirty magazines, and tried too hard to watch in between the lines of those scrambled soft porn shows on cable. Either way, it's not that I think there's anything wrong with this scenario. Nor do I think she's lying. I just totally feel like she's missing out in life lol.
While I feel like nothing beats the real thing in my book (I think I just broke girl code by admitting that btw), rubbin one out yourself comes in a close second. Whether it be with a toy, or my personal fave - manual, playing with yourself is a good stress reliever and it holds you down 'til the next time you see your man. So FEMALE FRIEND WHOSE NAME SHALL REMAIN UNDISCLOSED, LOCK YOUR DOOR, STICK YOUR HAND DOWN YOUR PANTS, AND THINK OF THE LAST TIME YOU GOT FUCKED REAL GOOD AND HANDLE THAT SHIT.
Ladies, I know yall love the D but in all seriousness ... I found the greatest love of all inside of me. It's easy to achieve Learning to love yourself? It is the greatest love of all.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
I could talk about torture baseball, about how it was the epitome of that last night, about this Saturdays first game against the Philly's, about that crucial ass JD shot those strangers at our table got us, about who I think should be MVP this year, about the team dynamics, etc. etc. but instead? I'm just gonna relish in our win.
Monday, October 11, 2010
You're surrounded by BEAUTIFUL WOMEN all the fucking time. Taller ones. With flatter stomachs. Plumper asses. And big ass tits. You're constantly being watched and judged. How again is this supposed to make me feel better? Exactly.
I won't lie. I care about the way I look. And to keep it real hunned, sometimes without even knowing it, I compare. Other times, I won't even bother to compare 'cuz I'm so awestruck by someone's physical appearance that I just wahhh. The other day I caught myself on some random girls Facebook page. She was gorgeous. Tall, tan, and mestiza looking with dimples. For about 2 minutes I wished I could be as pretty as her. Then I mentally slapped myself. Told my friend what I did, got verbally slapped by her. And then - the moment was over.
Moments like these happen far from often, but I'm ashamed they happen at all. It reminded me of this one girl I knew who got into import modeling partly to compete with her ex's new girlfriend who was also a "model". *sigh* Pretty girl. Ugly thought process. The thing is, no matter how much of a pretty front you put up, if you ain't feelin yourself on the inside - PEOPLE CAN TELL. Your happiness shouldn't be based on anyone else's approval. Your worth shouldn't be determined by someone else's rejection or acception. And your self-image ... is just that, your SELF-image.
These are all things I easily forget. And then I think about all the women I see who to some might not be the conventional beauty, and to some are "ugly." I look at how happy they are, how confident they feel, and the men that look at them as if they were the only woman on Earth, AND CHECK MYSELF.
Because what I've learned is:
There will ALWAYS be someone better looking.
Being "good looking" guarantees you NOTHING.
Being "better looking" isn't always an advantage.
More and more, looks are starting to mean less and less.
And sometimes? LOOKS DON'T MEAN SHIT.
Yah, I said it. Don't believe me? Two words: HALLE BERRY.
I'm sorry if it's all I've been talking about lately, but my life has been eat. baseball. sleap. lather. rinse. repeat. for the past few months. Despite chokin on Friday (A GAME I WAS FUCKING AT!) I had an awesome weekend. Good weather. Good food. Good folks. Like I said, life is gigante.
Friday started off with a little pre-gamin. No, not at MoMo's, in front of Safeway with the rest of the broke fans who didn't want to wait in a line that rivaled a Vegas club. Heem and apple juice FTW!
Right about now is when I started feeling curve balls in my stomach. The anticipation for the game was KILLING ME. The energy was retarded. I felt like I was playing that day.
The crab sammiches behind the bleachers are TO FUCKING DIE FOR. You can tell by the way Rach's eyes are closed as she takes a bite outta hers. Pretty sure they rolled to the back of her head afterwards lol.
It was a HARD game to leave. Although it was 4-0 for the longest time, I never felt at ease. EVERY GAME is that last game in 2002 for me. So I make sure not to celebrate until the entire game is over, the water cannons go off, and I hear Tony Bennet singing. Cain was ok. Romo dun started the downward spiral. And the chemicals in Wilson's beard dye must have affected his brain. I WAS PISSED. I always feel like it was SPECIFICALLY MY FAULT whenever we lose a game I'm at.
But while everyone else was wah-ing or talking shit, I just kept tellin myself it's aite. We can do it too. We'll hit 'em where it hurts - HOME. And that's exactly what we did. Honestly, God must be wearing an orange robe or something because yesterdays game was something short of a miracle. Friday hurt, but I'm sure Braves fans are reeling over their loss. I was so sure they took it. Imagine having the BEST home game record, and then losing to the Giants of all teams who are known to NOT come through in the clutch.
IT WAS AMAZING. Giants came up from behind, just the way I like it. Hah. And Conrad? Oh, someone give him the Willy Mac award lol. Poor thing.This video gives me goosebumps. If you're a Giants fan it should give you some too.
And this video seriously almost made me cry. I wish I could've been in it.
DON'T STOP BELIEVING! THIS COULD BE THE SEASON. BLACK AND ORANGE TIL'I DIE!
GAME 4 TODAY. LET'S GET 'EM. I WANNA SEE ATLANTA PAINTED IN ORANGE AND BLACK!
Friday, October 8, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Mostly by how much shit we can talk about each other TO each other, and how effortless it is to give them my last piece of pandesal bread pudding and say I love you right after. Because while friends agree on a lot, real friends aren't scared to disagree.
One thing that me and one of my girls disagree on is playing it "safe," as eloquently stated by my other girl Rach, here. And basically what it boiled down to was this: I must stray away from my "type" in order to be treated well.
Now before you all roll your necks in agreement, let me tell you what my "type" is:
Has his shit together.
These are the things that attract me to someone, but not the things that will win me over. But obviously, you don't really know someone until you really get to know someone. Having said that, fuck you AND your mom if those three things up there translate to the "type" I should stay away from. 'Cuz I refuse to go out with a guy that I'm not attracted to with zero personality that has 2 kids from 2 different baby-mamas and does nothing but play Halo all day on his moms couch.
I refuse to believe that just because someone says "fasho," or wears Jordans that I should stay away from them. Now if he says fasho, wears Jordans, and tries to fuck every thing with in a hole in it at the club OK FINE. But if I thought an English professor that wore Vans was cute and made me laugh, I'd still give him a chance even if he didn't know a single song off of Reasonable Doubt.
I'm all for keeping an open mind and straying away from the typical. I'm not so stupid as to give my number to the good looking party promoter that looks like T.I.'s twin who cheated on his last 5 girlfriends thinking that I'll be "the one" to change him, but I refuse to settle with the boring guy who doesn't make me happy who I have to force myself to have sex with because I know he'd never cheat on me.
I think the stigma is, society has equated stereotypical "cool" people as being "bad" people. And "nerds" as being the "boring nice guys." (the definition of "cool" and "nerdy" is up for interpretation but hopefuly you get the gist of what I'm saying anyway.) And while this can be true for the most part, it doesnt' have to be. While it's probably wishful thinking, I'd like to think that if I exist - then so does HE.
Because the truth of the matter is, a "good" guy can still fuck up. Because he's just a man, he's still human. Nothing less, nothing more. And an "asshole" can be a good guy - WHEN HE WANTS TO BE. Ultimately, I'm a nice girl with some nice dreams. But that doesn't mean I haven't made some poor decisions in life, nor does it mean I won't make anymore.
So while I should probably stay away from good looking guys (and when i say good looking i don't mean the obvious, because not everyone has the same taste. i'm just sayin men i think are good looking) that I dunno ... play football and drive Camaro's, I'm not. Because if I can give the guy who's into Star Wars and mobs in a smart car a chance, I can give the "other" guy one too.
Because I'd want someone to take a chance on ME.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
This is my opinion. As long as they are aware of it, then I really don't care. The more fans the merrier. The more people sportin that orange and black and cheering in the fans and sports bars nationwide - then FUCK YEAH! I've been a fan since I was 4 (I think lol, I was too young to actually remember but I'm basing it on when my mom started working at this one retail store because it was her bosses that took me to my first games). But to be real honest with you, it wasn't only until 2002 that I started paying attention to stats, etc. And it was only last month I learned about the "Magic #".
Of course they have more fans during times like these. It's like supporting someone in politics who has decided to run for congress. You may have been there their entire career, but when it comes to voting time your support will be more rampant and apparent. And everyone else who may not have been there from the gate, but want to vote for them as well are going to do the same. Or when you support a musical artist, you hella push them when they're up for an award orrrr they're dropping an album. OK none of that probably made sense but in my brain, before I typed it out, it sounded perfect lol.
When it comes down to it: Bandwagon fans are ok in my book. The ones in denial are annoying, but whatever who cares? I don't. All I care about is the team. And for the first time in a while, it's ABOUT A TEAM THIS SEASON. Not one specific person.
Perhaps Krukow said it best, "Bandwagon fans are basically fans that are afraid to get hurt again," he said sympathetically. "They've been burned in the past."
Well if you know me, you know I love playing with fire.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Where do I even begin with you. We've been through so much. What started off as an arranged marriage, resulted in love at first (orange and black) sight. But I was far too young to understand then ... I couldn't even pronounce Mal-do-na-do. I couldn't even walk from the parking lot to Candlestick Park without dragging my feet, prompting someone to carry me on their shoulders the rest of the way. I wasn't ready for the commitment. Hell, I wasn't even ready for the first grade.
And now? Now look at us. We've practically watched each other grow up. From play dates, to prom dates, and everything in between. You moved, I followed. I strayed, you stayed. But please know that just because my eyes may wander ... especially during basketball season, that they ain't got NOTHING on us baby. Besides, I've had to share you with so many. The ones who only buy your jerseys 'cuz it matches with their Air Max's? Those who hopped on the Playoff bandwagon in an attempt to get to your heart? The blonde with the fake tits who was on her cell phone the entire game? Yo, that shit fucking HURT. Yet - I've remained ride or die.
That Dodger fan I dated was just a fling and he sucked in bed anyway. Meanwhile, I've had to watch people use and abuse you, say your name in vain, and only be your friend when it was convenient to. While I held shit down and defended your honor, even in '02, when you broke my heart and made me cry. I still talked shit to the very last inning. But I've grown up since then. And now I'm ready to be the woman you need me to be.
They say Love is patient. Well, I've been waiting since 1985.
They say Love is kind. Well, I've shared my free tickets with those in need.
They say It does not envy. And I've never been jealous of another girls team.
But I'm sorry. Because this Friday, I'm boasting. And I'm gonna be proud. And downright fucking RUDE, when we take on the Braves. Regardless of the game's outcome. Because love also always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always preserves.
And I've always loved you. Never stopped. Never will.