Posts
It seems I'm doing quite of a few of these. Actually, no. I'm only doing two. But still...it's a bit.
So this is the time of year where I wrap up and reflect on the 2008 that's been and the 2009 coming up. Well, I'm not going to lie. This year has been full of surprises. Some good. Some bad. Some 'What the hell?' But it's been an interesting year overall.
I learned a lot about myself. For example, I learned that if God has a plan for me, I need to put all my trust in Him and let Him lead the way. Making my own plans is fine and dandy, but He always has something better in mind.
I learned who my true friends and family are. I learned that I don't just know someone if we never met. I don't know someone if we met briefly or spoke on the phone a few times. I only know what they put forth and I have to accept they have the best intentions. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't. But what you do in the dark will always come to light.
I learned that letting go of the past and any remnants of it propelled me to newer and higher levels of gratification. Sometimes the hardest decisions are really the best decisions.
I learned that writing is and will always be my passion despite my interest in other activities such as crafts, foreign languages and the such. And I need to focus more on my craft to be more successful in the future.
And lastly, I learned when someone enters your life and turns it upside down...there's no rhyme or reason for it to happen. It just does. And to you, my LOML...I'm forever grateful.
Have a blessed 2009.
Ms. V.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Darling Nikki
Nicole Lindner wasn’t just any bitch. She was THAT BITCH.
She was the type to go into a designer store and drop ten bills without even looking at the price tag.
She always paid for the check without looking at the receipt first. She didn’t have to.
She spent money like water but always had just enough in her account at all times.
She had that swagger. The confidence that was so overwhelming, it made other women want to be like her and get to know her even more. But Nikki was a woman who had few friends and many enemies. But it wasn’t to say she didn’t like it like that. The tighter her circle, the fewer problems presented themselves. The more enemies she had, the more free publicity garnered.
After all, to be hated is to be loved in Nikki’s mind. She was the Machiavellian Princess.
She came to the club by herself that night. Having a hard day at work, all Nikki wanted was to get drunk and forget about her troubles. There was nothing more irresistible than a man who had confidence. Not just any confidence. Rich, buttery soul smoothness. Not all men have it. Not all women want it.
But there was something about Dave Batista that was captivating. But Nikki wasn’t focused on his looks or confidence. She didn’t give a damn about neither. She was so used to scaring men off with her brash demeanor, she found herself stumbling and stuck when Dave wouldn’t remove himself from her presence.
“Listen, you have exactly five seconds to get the hell out of my face before I…”
Dave stepped up to the petite beauty. “Before you what?”
Is this motherfucker seriously challenging me? Nikki softly nodded to the drink in her hand.
“Dare me to throw this drink in your face.”
He called her bluff. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“You wanna bet?”
“Knowing you, that drink probably has all the top-shelf labels in it,” Dave’s swagger was undeniable to Nikki, “you’re not going to waste it on me.”
“You don’t know that.”
Dave shook his head in defiance. “And risk getting kicked out of the club?”
“There are others I can go to,” she responded.
“Oh, there’s plenty of clubs you can go to,” he agreed, “I can just make sure you don’t get into any of them.”
Nikki rested her hands on her hips and stood up straight. “You don’t own a goddamn thing.”
“You don’t know that.” Dave defied her.
Nikki closed her eyes. Why was she arguing with some asshole whose name she forgotten already? “I’m such a good mood, I’m going to do you a favor,” she picked up her Chloe clutch. “Bye!”
“I’ll see you later, Ms. Lindner.”
“In your dreams, asshole,” Nikki repeated.
----------------------
Dave returned to the VIP section with the drinks in tow. He had a smug grin on his face, the kind one has when they won a victory of some sort.
“What’s up with you, man?” John asked.
Dave handed John his beer. He laid back against the plush sofa and sighed. “I just met my wife.”
-----------------------
I can’t believe that motherfucker got to me. No man ever gets to me and this asshole had the fucking audacity to step up to me like he knew my ass. Fuck him! Low worth, no having motherfucker. Probably doesn’t own shit, anyways.
If Nikki was trying out for the next NASCAR race, the 405 freeway was her playground. She took quick puffs on her Newport as she raced home back to her apartment. In her mind, everyone was driving too slow despite the fact Nikki was coasting at 90 mph. But she didn’t care. She had to get away from the club as soon as possible. Death was not a consideration in her mind or even a slight afterthought. She just needed to be away from the club and definitely away from the asshole named Dave Batista.
She walked into her apartment and slammed the door behind her. For someone who never lost her cool, she found herself intrigued about the mystery man who chased her out of a club. An asshole, yes. But an attractive asshole, that was for damn sure.
So why is he still on my mind?
------------------------------------
7 AM was just too damn early.
Sunday mornings after clubbing were meant for two things: sleep and curing a hangover. If Nikki found herself in bed with someone else, she quickly crept out before daylight broke. Instead, she was at home, staring at the creeping sunlight. She was never up at 7 AM. That was just unheard of. The earliest she woke up was at 7:30, despite needing to be at work at 7:45. But she was wide awake at 7 AM and it bothered her why.
She was thinking about him. The asshole from the night before. The tall, smooth, and gorgeous tall glass of water. His demeanor was smooth as buttercream and his presence made her cross her legs because of the yearning sensation forming between her thighs. What the fuck? She shook her head. If she stopped thinking about him, her body would stop craving him. If she told herself that enough times, it would be true, right?
Nikki’s staring into the daze came to a crashing halt by the “Material Girl” ring tone. She wasn’t a Madonna fan but had to admit the ring tone fit her perfectly “Hello?” Her raspy voice answered.
“Where were you last night? I was waiting for at the club all night and you stood my ass up!” Kristal Marshall exclaimed.
“I was there but I left,” Nikki’s mind drifted to her encounter with Dave at the bar, “too many assholes.”
“You should’ve stayed, Nic! I found the perfect guy for you!”
Nikki heard this before. Her best friend and sometimes sex partner was more interested in seeing Nicole happy with someone than concentrating on her fledging singing career. It was thoughtful yet a tad on the annoying side at the same time. “I’m sure you did.”
“I did! He’s smart, rich, and very single!”
“And let me guess…he’s very gay at the same time?”
“I’m not playing, Nic! You should’ve stayed! I think I found a great guy for you.”
“Well, maybe next time, baby.”
“I guess so,” Kristal shrugged.
Nikki reached over and picked up her pack of cigarettes. “What was his name anyways?” She stuck one in her mouth and attempted to light it. “Like I would remember it later, you know…”
“Dave.”
Nikki immediately shot up in bed as the cigarette fell out of her mouth. Noooo…it can’t be! “Is…is his last name Batista?”
“Yeah! How did you know?”
“Lucky guess…”
She was the type to go into a designer store and drop ten bills without even looking at the price tag.
She always paid for the check without looking at the receipt first. She didn’t have to.
She spent money like water but always had just enough in her account at all times.
She had that swagger. The confidence that was so overwhelming, it made other women want to be like her and get to know her even more. But Nikki was a woman who had few friends and many enemies. But it wasn’t to say she didn’t like it like that. The tighter her circle, the fewer problems presented themselves. The more enemies she had, the more free publicity garnered.
After all, to be hated is to be loved in Nikki’s mind. She was the Machiavellian Princess.
She came to the club by herself that night. Having a hard day at work, all Nikki wanted was to get drunk and forget about her troubles. There was nothing more irresistible than a man who had confidence. Not just any confidence. Rich, buttery soul smoothness. Not all men have it. Not all women want it.
But there was something about Dave Batista that was captivating. But Nikki wasn’t focused on his looks or confidence. She didn’t give a damn about neither. She was so used to scaring men off with her brash demeanor, she found herself stumbling and stuck when Dave wouldn’t remove himself from her presence.
“Listen, you have exactly five seconds to get the hell out of my face before I…”
Dave stepped up to the petite beauty. “Before you what?”
Is this motherfucker seriously challenging me? Nikki softly nodded to the drink in her hand.
“Dare me to throw this drink in your face.”
He called her bluff. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“You wanna bet?”
“Knowing you, that drink probably has all the top-shelf labels in it,” Dave’s swagger was undeniable to Nikki, “you’re not going to waste it on me.”
“You don’t know that.”
Dave shook his head in defiance. “And risk getting kicked out of the club?”
“There are others I can go to,” she responded.
“Oh, there’s plenty of clubs you can go to,” he agreed, “I can just make sure you don’t get into any of them.”
Nikki rested her hands on her hips and stood up straight. “You don’t own a goddamn thing.”
“You don’t know that.” Dave defied her.
Nikki closed her eyes. Why was she arguing with some asshole whose name she forgotten already? “I’m such a good mood, I’m going to do you a favor,” she picked up her Chloe clutch. “Bye!”
“I’ll see you later, Ms. Lindner.”
“In your dreams, asshole,” Nikki repeated.
----------------------
Dave returned to the VIP section with the drinks in tow. He had a smug grin on his face, the kind one has when they won a victory of some sort.
“What’s up with you, man?” John asked.
Dave handed John his beer. He laid back against the plush sofa and sighed. “I just met my wife.”
-----------------------
I can’t believe that motherfucker got to me. No man ever gets to me and this asshole had the fucking audacity to step up to me like he knew my ass. Fuck him! Low worth, no having motherfucker. Probably doesn’t own shit, anyways.
If Nikki was trying out for the next NASCAR race, the 405 freeway was her playground. She took quick puffs on her Newport as she raced home back to her apartment. In her mind, everyone was driving too slow despite the fact Nikki was coasting at 90 mph. But she didn’t care. She had to get away from the club as soon as possible. Death was not a consideration in her mind or even a slight afterthought. She just needed to be away from the club and definitely away from the asshole named Dave Batista.
She walked into her apartment and slammed the door behind her. For someone who never lost her cool, she found herself intrigued about the mystery man who chased her out of a club. An asshole, yes. But an attractive asshole, that was for damn sure.
So why is he still on my mind?
------------------------------------
7 AM was just too damn early.
Sunday mornings after clubbing were meant for two things: sleep and curing a hangover. If Nikki found herself in bed with someone else, she quickly crept out before daylight broke. Instead, she was at home, staring at the creeping sunlight. She was never up at 7 AM. That was just unheard of. The earliest she woke up was at 7:30, despite needing to be at work at 7:45. But she was wide awake at 7 AM and it bothered her why.
She was thinking about him. The asshole from the night before. The tall, smooth, and gorgeous tall glass of water. His demeanor was smooth as buttercream and his presence made her cross her legs because of the yearning sensation forming between her thighs. What the fuck? She shook her head. If she stopped thinking about him, her body would stop craving him. If she told herself that enough times, it would be true, right?
Nikki’s staring into the daze came to a crashing halt by the “Material Girl” ring tone. She wasn’t a Madonna fan but had to admit the ring tone fit her perfectly “Hello?” Her raspy voice answered.
“Where were you last night? I was waiting for at the club all night and you stood my ass up!” Kristal Marshall exclaimed.
“I was there but I left,” Nikki’s mind drifted to her encounter with Dave at the bar, “too many assholes.”
“You should’ve stayed, Nic! I found the perfect guy for you!”
Nikki heard this before. Her best friend and sometimes sex partner was more interested in seeing Nicole happy with someone than concentrating on her fledging singing career. It was thoughtful yet a tad on the annoying side at the same time. “I’m sure you did.”
“I did! He’s smart, rich, and very single!”
“And let me guess…he’s very gay at the same time?”
“I’m not playing, Nic! You should’ve stayed! I think I found a great guy for you.”
“Well, maybe next time, baby.”
“I guess so,” Kristal shrugged.
Nikki reached over and picked up her pack of cigarettes. “What was his name anyways?” She stuck one in her mouth and attempted to light it. “Like I would remember it later, you know…”
“Dave.”
Nikki immediately shot up in bed as the cigarette fell out of her mouth. Noooo…it can’t be! “Is…is his last name Batista?”
“Yeah! How did you know?”
“Lucky guess…”
Monday, December 8, 2008
Life & Times '08
Good Lord....
I had a post I was going to blog but then I decided it was way too much personal information...and I dealt with that bullshit in the past...history doesn't need to repeat itself.
So I've been lining up some personal and professional goals for me...a big ass list...let's take a look at it:
1. Saving 15% of my income every month...I've been doing 10%...so yeah...need to up it a bit.
2. Submit to more agencies and more publication homes.
3. Finally revamp the SBG site...yeah, you thought I forgot about it? Nah, I haven't...just not sure what I want to do with it...but it's definitely a one-woman show, though...no time for fake bitches.
4. Ignore the haters. I spent way too much time giving them shout-outs.
5. Concentrate on being a wifey to the hubby. I haven't been giving him the attention he deserves lately...shame on V.
6. That's about it.
I had a post I was going to blog but then I decided it was way too much personal information...and I dealt with that bullshit in the past...history doesn't need to repeat itself.
So I've been lining up some personal and professional goals for me...a big ass list...let's take a look at it:
1. Saving 15% of my income every month...I've been doing 10%...so yeah...need to up it a bit.
2. Submit to more agencies and more publication homes.
3. Finally revamp the SBG site...yeah, you thought I forgot about it? Nah, I haven't...just not sure what I want to do with it...but it's definitely a one-woman show, though...no time for fake bitches.
4. Ignore the haters. I spent way too much time giving them shout-outs.
5. Concentrate on being a wifey to the hubby. I haven't been giving him the attention he deserves lately...shame on V.
6. That's about it.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
The Glamorous Life
Looking through e-luxury, my absolute fave website, I didn't realize how much I became a label whore. You know...the type that only buys designer labels. Now don't get me wrong. I still shop at Wal-Mart and Target and damn proud of that fact. But there is something about having status when you walk throughout town sporting a Dior clutch or a Coach bag that I don't think many people understand. You're treated a bit better. You get a lot more respect. You have other women eyeing your purchases and secretly plotting how can they get one for themselves. I know...I've been that woman. I've been that girl wishing she could afford something designer. Now I am that girl. How?
I saved. A whole lot of money.
The point is, any woman can be glamorous if she chooses to be. My grandmother and mother never spent a lot of money on labels but their jewelry collection is off the chain.
Treat yourself. You deserve it.
I saved. A whole lot of money.
The point is, any woman can be glamorous if she chooses to be. My grandmother and mother never spent a lot of money on labels but their jewelry collection is off the chain.
Treat yourself. You deserve it.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Darling Nikki
Nicole Lindner wasn’t just any bitch. She was THAT BITCH.
She was the type to go into a designer store and drop ten bills without even looking at the price tag.
She always paid for the check without looking at the receipt first. She didn’t have to.
She spent money like water but always had just enough in her account at all times.
She had that swagger. The confidence that was so overwhelming, it made other women want to be like her and get to know her even more. But Nikki was a woman who had few friends and many enemies. But it wasn’t to say she didn’t like it like that. The tighter her circle, the fewer problems presented themselves. The more enemies she had, the more free publicity garnered.
After all, to be hated is to be loved in Nikki’s mind.
She came to the club by herself that night. Having a hard day at work, all Nikki wanted was to get drunk and forget about her troubles. There was nothing more irresistible than a man who had confidence. Not just any confidence. Rich, buttery soul smoothness. Not all men have it. Not all women want it. But there was something about Dave Batista that was captivating.
But Nikki wasn’t focused on his looks or confidence. She didn’t give a damn about neither. She was so used to scaring men off with her brash demeanor, she found herself stumbling and stuck when Dave wouldn’t remove himself from her presence.
“Listen, you have exactly five seconds to get the hell out of my face before I…”
Dave stepped up to the petite beauty. “Before you what?”
Is this motherfucker seriously challenging me? Nikki softly nodded to the drink in her hand. “Dare me to throw this drink in your face.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“You wanna bet?”
“Knowing you, that drink probably has all the top-shelf labels in it,” Dave’s swagger was undeniable to Nikki, “you’re not going to waste it on me.”
“You don’t know that.”
Dave shook his head in defiance. “And risk getting kicked out of the club?”
“There are others I can go to,” she responded.
“And I can make sure you don’t get into any of them.”
“You don’t own a goddamn thing.”
“You don’t know that.” Dave defied her.
Nikki closed her eyes. Why was she arguing with some asshole whose name she forgotten already? “I’m such a good mood, I’m going to do you a favor,” she picked up her Chloe clutch. “Bye!”
“I’ll see you later, Ms. Lindner.”
“In your dreams, asshole,” Nikki repeated.
She was the type to go into a designer store and drop ten bills without even looking at the price tag.
She always paid for the check without looking at the receipt first. She didn’t have to.
She spent money like water but always had just enough in her account at all times.
She had that swagger. The confidence that was so overwhelming, it made other women want to be like her and get to know her even more. But Nikki was a woman who had few friends and many enemies. But it wasn’t to say she didn’t like it like that. The tighter her circle, the fewer problems presented themselves. The more enemies she had, the more free publicity garnered.
After all, to be hated is to be loved in Nikki’s mind.
She came to the club by herself that night. Having a hard day at work, all Nikki wanted was to get drunk and forget about her troubles. There was nothing more irresistible than a man who had confidence. Not just any confidence. Rich, buttery soul smoothness. Not all men have it. Not all women want it. But there was something about Dave Batista that was captivating.
But Nikki wasn’t focused on his looks or confidence. She didn’t give a damn about neither. She was so used to scaring men off with her brash demeanor, she found herself stumbling and stuck when Dave wouldn’t remove himself from her presence.
“Listen, you have exactly five seconds to get the hell out of my face before I…”
Dave stepped up to the petite beauty. “Before you what?”
Is this motherfucker seriously challenging me? Nikki softly nodded to the drink in her hand. “Dare me to throw this drink in your face.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“You wanna bet?”
“Knowing you, that drink probably has all the top-shelf labels in it,” Dave’s swagger was undeniable to Nikki, “you’re not going to waste it on me.”
“You don’t know that.”
Dave shook his head in defiance. “And risk getting kicked out of the club?”
“There are others I can go to,” she responded.
“And I can make sure you don’t get into any of them.”
“You don’t own a goddamn thing.”
“You don’t know that.” Dave defied her.
Nikki closed her eyes. Why was she arguing with some asshole whose name she forgotten already? “I’m such a good mood, I’m going to do you a favor,” she picked up her Chloe clutch. “Bye!”
“I’ll see you later, Ms. Lindner.”
“In your dreams, asshole,” Nikki repeated.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Blow by Blow
There is nothing better than waking up from a sex-filled night to a bright and early sun. You feel refreshed. You feel like you want to go out and tackle the day’s events. You feel like you want to conquer the world.
Fuck that. I want to go back to sleep.
So after the night filled with fucking, Ran-asshole to my left here decided to keep my ass up another way—with his goddamn snoring all motherfucking night. Now I know there are breathing strips and all sorts of other shit available. Please tell me why this motherfucker hasn’t invested in any of the shit? Huh? Why?
Not only that, but he likes to wrap his arms around me and give me a fucking bear hug like I’m about to escape from prison or some shit. Motherfucker, I can’t breathe! This asshole is clingier than goddamn Reynolds Wrap. It’s a good thing he’s fine and has a big dick. How Sam tolerated that shit, I don’t know.
“Whatcha writing?” He asks.
My fingernail clacking on my keyboard woke up Snore Bear. I quickly close it and smile at him. He does look pretty cute I have to admit. His bed hair is all twisted and messed up. There’s a bit of crust between in his eyes and his he has pillow marks indented in his cheeks. Awe. How adorable.
“I’m writing in my journal.”
He yawns and stretches out on the bed. “About me?”
Damn skippy it’s about you. I have about a good 5 Federalist Papers-length entries just on your ass alone, dickwad “About anything, really.”
“Can I read it?”
I smile at him lovingly. “Hell no.”
“At least you’re honest,” he shrugs.
“You can never say I wasn’t.”
Randy pats the bed, beckoning me to come back. I set my computer aside and climb inside. We snuggle and he kisses my nose. “What’s on your mind?”
Gee, where do I start? Let’s talk about what the fuck happened last night, Randy? Let’s chat about your undying love and devotion to me, Randy? Let’s talk about your psycho ex-girlfriend, Randy. There are so many things I want to talk about and need to be addressed now. But I don’t want to ruin the moment for some “What are we?” bullshit talk. So I just answer as honestly as I can.
“Nothing.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
-------------------------------------------
The one thing I love about Glen is that no matter what happens in my fucked-up life, I can always count on him to lift my spirits. All he has to do is say just one word and voila, my worries are washed away:
“Neiman Marcus, baby.”
Okay, so that was three words but you get my drift. An hour later, we’re walking throughout the store. MAC counter to my right. Bobbi Brown to my left. Chanel boutique diagonally across. Miu Miu section at 3 o’clock. Versace at 7 o’clock. Heaven is a good sale at Neiman Marcus.
As standard, Glen plays the role of my pretend-boyfriend so no other man tries to get with me. A few giggles, a couple of hugs, and lots of hand holding. You’ll be amazed at how many guys try to hate on him. They give him looks as if they’re saying, ‘How in the fuck is he with her?’
Cute.
So we’re over by my favorite part of the store—the handbag section. This is the section that you better not even try to guess how much something costs or if you can afford it. If you can’t afford the shit, your ass shouldn’t be in Neiman Marcus. It’s not the place that bitches go “just to look.” You buy and then get out.
But the handbags…Lord have mercy…so many to choose from and not enough time to decide. Ladies, you can relate, right? You see something that begs you to purchase it no matter the cost. Yeah, that’s what I’m feeling right about now. I’m feeling that itch to drop $1600 on a Chloe right now.
That’s right. I know you hate me. If I were you, I would hate me, too.
Purchasing a beyond expensive handbag isn’t my concern, however. While I had some mind-blowing-without-the-dick-slapping sex last night, I feel a little funny. No, not walking like I just got off a bronco funny but funny as in I’m not sure how I should feel. Ran-asshole professed his love to me. And I didn’t say shit back.
See? A little funny.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Randy is the guy who I’ve craved—okay, my pussy has craved—forever. Yet, this is the second time he’s said those three little words and I was like *crickets chirping*
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“You look preoccupied,” Glen interrupts my thought.
“I have a lot on my mind.” Shit, was I that obvious?
“Something tells me you’re not deciding which Chloe you should choose from.”
I sigh. “If only my life was that easy.”
“Wanna talk about it, princess?”
I nudge Glen to two waiting chairs and we sit down. I take a couple of deep breaths but I’m still trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Even 12 hours later and I’m still in shock. “He told me last night he loved me.”
Glen listens intently and nods as if he’s saying he understands the seriousness of the situation and how I could really fuck it up. “I take it you didn’t return the favor?”
“He wouldn’t let me.”
“So…” he begins, “do you?”
If that’s not the Million-Dollar question, I don’t know what is. But what’s even more fucked up is I don’t know the answer.
Fuck that. I want to go back to sleep.
So after the night filled with fucking, Ran-asshole to my left here decided to keep my ass up another way—with his goddamn snoring all motherfucking night. Now I know there are breathing strips and all sorts of other shit available. Please tell me why this motherfucker hasn’t invested in any of the shit? Huh? Why?
Not only that, but he likes to wrap his arms around me and give me a fucking bear hug like I’m about to escape from prison or some shit. Motherfucker, I can’t breathe! This asshole is clingier than goddamn Reynolds Wrap. It’s a good thing he’s fine and has a big dick. How Sam tolerated that shit, I don’t know.
“Whatcha writing?” He asks.
My fingernail clacking on my keyboard woke up Snore Bear. I quickly close it and smile at him. He does look pretty cute I have to admit. His bed hair is all twisted and messed up. There’s a bit of crust between in his eyes and his he has pillow marks indented in his cheeks. Awe. How adorable.
“I’m writing in my journal.”
He yawns and stretches out on the bed. “About me?”
Damn skippy it’s about you. I have about a good 5 Federalist Papers-length entries just on your ass alone, dickwad “About anything, really.”
“Can I read it?”
I smile at him lovingly. “Hell no.”
“At least you’re honest,” he shrugs.
“You can never say I wasn’t.”
Randy pats the bed, beckoning me to come back. I set my computer aside and climb inside. We snuggle and he kisses my nose. “What’s on your mind?”
Gee, where do I start? Let’s talk about what the fuck happened last night, Randy? Let’s chat about your undying love and devotion to me, Randy? Let’s talk about your psycho ex-girlfriend, Randy. There are so many things I want to talk about and need to be addressed now. But I don’t want to ruin the moment for some “What are we?” bullshit talk. So I just answer as honestly as I can.
“Nothing.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
-------------------------------------------
The one thing I love about Glen is that no matter what happens in my fucked-up life, I can always count on him to lift my spirits. All he has to do is say just one word and voila, my worries are washed away:
“Neiman Marcus, baby.”
Okay, so that was three words but you get my drift. An hour later, we’re walking throughout the store. MAC counter to my right. Bobbi Brown to my left. Chanel boutique diagonally across. Miu Miu section at 3 o’clock. Versace at 7 o’clock. Heaven is a good sale at Neiman Marcus.
As standard, Glen plays the role of my pretend-boyfriend so no other man tries to get with me. A few giggles, a couple of hugs, and lots of hand holding. You’ll be amazed at how many guys try to hate on him. They give him looks as if they’re saying, ‘How in the fuck is he with her?’
Cute.
So we’re over by my favorite part of the store—the handbag section. This is the section that you better not even try to guess how much something costs or if you can afford it. If you can’t afford the shit, your ass shouldn’t be in Neiman Marcus. It’s not the place that bitches go “just to look.” You buy and then get out.
But the handbags…Lord have mercy…so many to choose from and not enough time to decide. Ladies, you can relate, right? You see something that begs you to purchase it no matter the cost. Yeah, that’s what I’m feeling right about now. I’m feeling that itch to drop $1600 on a Chloe right now.
That’s right. I know you hate me. If I were you, I would hate me, too.
Purchasing a beyond expensive handbag isn’t my concern, however. While I had some mind-blowing-without-the-dick-slapping sex last night, I feel a little funny. No, not walking like I just got off a bronco funny but funny as in I’m not sure how I should feel. Ran-asshole professed his love to me. And I didn’t say shit back.
See? A little funny.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Randy is the guy who I’ve craved—okay, my pussy has craved—forever. Yet, this is the second time he’s said those three little words and I was like *crickets chirping*
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“You look preoccupied,” Glen interrupts my thought.
“I have a lot on my mind.” Shit, was I that obvious?
“Something tells me you’re not deciding which Chloe you should choose from.”
I sigh. “If only my life was that easy.”
“Wanna talk about it, princess?”
I nudge Glen to two waiting chairs and we sit down. I take a couple of deep breaths but I’m still trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Even 12 hours later and I’m still in shock. “He told me last night he loved me.”
Glen listens intently and nods as if he’s saying he understands the seriousness of the situation and how I could really fuck it up. “I take it you didn’t return the favor?”
“He wouldn’t let me.”
“So…” he begins, “do you?”
If that’s not the Million-Dollar question, I don’t know what is. But what’s even more fucked up is I don’t know the answer.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Chicken Soup for the Soul
It should be Nyquil for the soul. Why in the hell am I still awake?
I know why...I'm test driving my new 6-inch stilettos I bought over the weekend. That's right, 6 inches. You and I both know 6-inch stilettos are fucking shoes. I probably won't wear them outside my bedroom, if at all...but they're cute. They're clear with little fuzzies on the top. Why wouldn't I get them? Hello!
Nothing much to report here...finally began mapping out my goals for next year. I really didn't map out any goals for this year so I'm trying to figure out what I need to do to get moving. I think I had way too many distractions within this past year and I just needed a break and clarity to remind myself why I do this...why I write...why I love...why I'm passionate....
Hmm....that's about it....
I know why...I'm test driving my new 6-inch stilettos I bought over the weekend. That's right, 6 inches. You and I both know 6-inch stilettos are fucking shoes. I probably won't wear them outside my bedroom, if at all...but they're cute. They're clear with little fuzzies on the top. Why wouldn't I get them? Hello!
Nothing much to report here...finally began mapping out my goals for next year. I really didn't map out any goals for this year so I'm trying to figure out what I need to do to get moving. I think I had way too many distractions within this past year and I just needed a break and clarity to remind myself why I do this...why I write...why I love...why I'm passionate....
Hmm....that's about it....
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Update
Well, I'm safe from the fires...for the time being. It was a big lesson in humility this past weekend, I tell you that much. I quickly found out who my true friends are and selfish bitches who couldn't give a goddamn less. Whatev. I don't have time for it.
Back to business....a sneak peek will be posted later....
Back to business....a sneak peek will be posted later....
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Blow by Blow
Soft and Wet has to be one of the best Prince songs ever. Yes, ever. Vintage and classic like an old Chevy. Sexy and fast like a little red corvette. Okay, wow. That was even cheesy for me.
This is the Prince who told me how much he likes getting head. This is the Prince who made me fantasize I was his Darling Nikki. It’s the classic Prince before he went all crazy and turned his name into some goddamn inexplicable symbol. Whatever, dude. Just keep making my panties wet and you’re all good in my book.
“I personally don’t see how a petite man who sings like a woman, wears high heels and looks like he weighs a buck twenty-five soaking wet with bricks is attractive.” Ran-asshole spills.
Randy takes a swig of his beer and concedes with my smart-ass statement. “After looking at this place on and off for the past two years, I did pay for it.”
Ooh. Match point. That was a good one.
Sushi was pretty uneventful. After Randy and I conversed (noticed I said ‘converse’, not ‘conversate,’ people. Conversate is not a word) we head back to my place. To discuss. Yeah, discuss. Uh-huh. I’m going to keep saying that.
“So this Soft and Wet song?” It’s clear Randy doesn’t like Prince. His beady little eyes are all squinted like he’s seeing something in the distance but can’t quite make out exactly what it is. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had that look on his face, that’s for damn sure. “He’s saying the chick is soft and wet?”
Ding, ding, ding. Houston, we have a genius. “Yes, but he’s explaining how wonderful and supple she is. How sensual she is.”
Randy shrugs. “Why couldn’t he just say that instead of singing in a goddamn falsetto?”
“See, this is why you pay for it, asshole,” I point to him.
Randy chuckles and shrugs a little. “Maybe. But I never had to say some fucking metaphors and similes to get some ass.”
I’m having a hard time swallowing that piece of shit he just fed me. “Never?”
Randy smirks for a minute. “Yeah, I didn’t think you would buy that shit?”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” I grin back. It’s kinda fun bantering with him, I’ll admit. Some of our best times occurred when we weren’t fucking.
“So…maybe once or twice?”
“Really? And what was this genius moment?”
“Oh, whenever I see a pretty girl.” Randy smiled. “You know, every guy does has the same lines.”
“I love you, baby,” he adds.
“Oh yeah! That’s another one!” I point to him. Sad to admit, I’ve been a victim of that bullshit lie. But then again, I’ve used that bullshit lie my damn self. “I forgot about that one!”
“No, Maria,” he gets up and walks over to me. He grabs me by my waist and quickly plants a searing kiss on my lips. He smells musky, almost intoxicating. His breath is a combination of mint and sake. But it’s his impending erection that captures my attention. He’s pressed tight against my body and there’s no doubt what’s on his mind. Now what’s in his heart is a different matter.
Randy takes his time, sucking my bottom lip and then my upper. He places soft kisses around my mouth and traces my jaw line with his tongue. He then moves down to my neck and gently nibbles on it before he moves back up to my lips. Fuck, I totally forgot how much I missed this man on me.
Randy pulls away for just a split second and looks intently in my eyes. This is the most intense I’ve seen him. You know how you put your arms on someone to get their attention because you’re about to tell them something important? That’s what Randy’s doing to me now but it’s still not registering with me. “I love you, Maria.”
I can’t handle this shit right now. I couldn’t handle it when he told me last year; I damn sure can’t handle it 12 months later. I shake my head. “Randy, I…”
He places a finger on my lips. “Shh…let’s just enjoy this moment, okay?” He asks.
“Okay,” I mouth back. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want this moment to happen but it still got me off-guard. My mind is saying it’s a bad, bad idea but to hell with my mind right about now. It’s not about to get fucked.
Little Maria down there is.
-------------------
12 months can do a lot to someone’s lovemaking skills. It can either enhance it or make it worse. While I do agree sex is just like a bicycle—once you learn how to ride it, you don’t forget—I do think all you need is one bumpy road and you’ll quickly fall off that motherfucker and break your ass.
But with Randy here…he never missed a toe-curling step. He wants to make love to me, not just fuck me like he has in the past. He undresses me then he picks me up and carries me to the bed.
“Stay there,” he instructs before he leaves.
I don’t know what he has in mind. I’m curious but I’m anxious. I’m dying for this moment but I can’t wait for it to finally happen. My thoughts are broken when I hear his footsteps up the stairs and a motion for me to open my thighs. I look down and see Randy has a bottle of honey and is dripping it on my clit. I don’t want to get excited but I’m wondering what the hell he’s doing.
“You know you don’t have to…” I begin.
“Shh…” Randy puts another finger to his lips. “Just enjoy.”
It’s fucking awesome.
He’s doing these flicking motions with his tongue, hitting my spot each and every fucking time. He rolls my pearl around his tongue like it’s on a chase and he’s trying to catch it. But then he does something I only experienced with Johnny. Randy sticks a finger in my ass and another in my pussy. As he licks me, he finger fucks both of my holes at the same time. My body surrenders to the incredible feeling. I immediately explode into several orgasms over and over again. Finally, I brush Randy’s head away from my pussy because I’m just way too sensitive for any more.
I nod silently in hot anticipation. I just want to get fucked already.
Randy then teases my opening with his dick. He wants me to relish it. He wants me to crave it. He wants me to beg for it. “Just give it to me,” I ask.
Almost immediately, he glides his throbbing dick inside me. The incredible friction is both unbearable for us and we take a moment to relish the pleasure. Randy then begins to make love to me, holding my legs in the air as he watches the action. He moves my legs in different positions, increasing the pleasure.
Soon, he begins to move faster. I feel his balls slap against my ass as he taunts me to take more of what he’s offering. He reaches down and fingers my clit as he continues to glide in and out of me, wanting me to come again and again.
I yell in a sharp cry and feel my body exploding into mini-convulsions as Randy still makes love to me. He picks up the pace and lets out a few grunts. He then pulls out and shoots all over my clit before he collapses on top of me. Throughout the night, we make love some more before finally falling asleep in my bed.
I don’t know what’s going to happen with Randy and me in the future and right about now, I’m not even thinking that far ahead. But right now, I just want to savor this moment.
I’ll deal with Sam’s bitch ass later.
Didn't Realize...
I was still popular...
Okay, for those who don't know...I post from time to time on fanfiction.net. Now, I don't post as much as I used to just because my reality (real life) has taken over my fantasy (fiction writing). Also, with work full-time, a newly formed engagement (happy engagement to me...happy engagement to me...), and editing other stories, I just needed a break.
But when I posted a couple of chapters from past stories, I was shocked....I'm still popular. Who'd thunk it?
So I'm going to post a few chapters on this blog here as well just so you guys can get an idea on what it is about me. I'm still shocked that I'm resonate with some people. But you know what? That totally freaking rocks....
Okay, for those who don't know...I post from time to time on fanfiction.net. Now, I don't post as much as I used to just because my reality (real life) has taken over my fantasy (fiction writing). Also, with work full-time, a newly formed engagement (happy engagement to me...happy engagement to me...), and editing other stories, I just needed a break.
But when I posted a couple of chapters from past stories, I was shocked....I'm still popular. Who'd thunk it?
So I'm going to post a few chapters on this blog here as well just so you guys can get an idea on what it is about me. I'm still shocked that I'm resonate with some people. But you know what? That totally freaking rocks....
Hello Everyone,
Okay, so I created this blog about many moons ago and I totally forgot about it. Go figure. But anyhoo, here I am and I expect to post a lot more. Expect a combination of my sample work in addition to everyday life rantings. Really, I'm not this boring. I just ran out of shit to say for my first blog.
Hi to my haters because I know they're reading this (or one of their many minnions are).
Okay, so I created this blog about many moons ago and I totally forgot about it. Go figure. But anyhoo, here I am and I expect to post a lot more. Expect a combination of my sample work in addition to everyday life rantings. Really, I'm not this boring. I just ran out of shit to say for my first blog.
Hi to my haters because I know they're reading this (or one of their many minnions are).
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