CAN Collector

OK, so one thing about little miss crazy that wrote me a nasty note and left it on my car. I’ve since calmed down and realized that while I want violence to be the answer, I can’t justify stooping to such ratchet levels– but that’s not what I’m going to talk about today. In the infamous note, homegirl referred to my dude as a “corny ass nigga” (in a half-assed attempt to limit cursing and the N-word on the blog I will reference the word as CAN). My question of the day is: OK, so what’s wrong with a CAN??

SBMThroughout my strange dating life I have definitely showed a history of CAN collecting. Sure, I’ve dated all types of men, but the ones I really hit it off with and wanted to retain for relationship building were absolutely CANs. Case and point: the baby daddies. My 8 year old’s father still likes the Power Rangers and thinks World’s Funniest Home Videos is hilarious television programming. My youngest child’s father owns the DVD box set of the Golden Girls and knows all the characters on My Little Pony–these two are not exactly winning any Thug of the Year awards and I’m fine with that. What’s wrong with us women–black women especially– that corny guys are a bad thing? And should we even call them corny or just “dudes least likely to pistol whip you when an argument breaks out”?

Hmm, let’s reflect back on guys I’ve dated that were not corny. Let’s see… there was street pharmacist dude: owned two cell phones and was unresponsive, unavailable and unmoved by most things. Pulling emotions out of him was like trying to pull his strong white teeth out of his beautiful mouth! Great to look at, had a sense of humor but time spent together had a dark atmosphere and it was clear to me we weren’t going to be anything long term.

Then there was Young Thug who crammed a lot of life into his 22 years on the Earth. He appalled me with stories of robberies, drug use and near death experiences and had a strict unspoken rule that he was only allowed to laugh at his own jokes. Whenever I decided to be in a silly mood he seemed more annoyed by it than anything else; and when I did actually say something funny he would smile as if it brought him physical pain and say, “That’s not funny.” One warm day it rained outside and I dared him to go for a run outside in it with me. It was all sorts of cornball fun and games splashing through puddles and getting soaking wet until he abruptly decided that the activity was just too corny and our frolicking came to a complete and abrupt halt. He complained for days about his tawny dread locs being ruined by the rain, but I think he was more mad at himself for daring to have the type of fun that didn’t involve smoking and chilling over “so and so’s” house.

And, lastly I’ll mention the guy who had just finished a stint in prison for 8 years for *mumble mumble* “drug stuff”. We got along decently. He didn’t like to kiss on the mouth, asked me for money (which I never gave him) and didn’t appreciate my sarcasm. Months into our odd acquaintance, I sat at a bar with him watching him be rude to our waiter, and on a whim it occurred to me to get more detail about his 8 years in jail. Well, apparently “drug stuff” is code for, I STAB BED MY EX GIRLFRIEND AND LEFT HER IN THE TRUNK OF MY CAR! Umm, check please.

JW TextJust yesterday, I danced around JW’s apartment in just an undershirt with glass of whiskey in hand, watching him attempt to moonwalk while singing Michael Jackson high notes. I was comfortable and I was happy– and that’s really my only bottom line. Yes, I could see how he could be seen as a CAN. He has goals and ambition, respects and takes care of me, works long hours and pays all his bills in full and on time—who wouldn’t want a corny ass nigga? I’ve been with those guys that don’t return phone calls and can barely go out into public without picking an aggressive fight with a stranger and I just don’t need that kind of excitement in my life. She can be that ride or die chick stashing cocaine in her snatch and being an alibi for her man’s whereabouts between 9pm and 3am last night. As for me and my CAN, we’ll be over here watching Investigation Discovery and sending each other silly text messages. 😛

The Price of Slapping A Bitch

W Brady

My aunt slapped a bitch once, and because of it she will forever be my hero. The woman she slapped completely deserved it and there were plenty of witnesses around to nod their heads and confirm, “Oh yeah, that bitch just got slapped!” Unfortunately, due to an egregious miscarriage of justice, my aunt had to pay thousands of dollars in lawyer‘s fees just to stay out of jail after the woman pressed charges. How could this have happened in this day and age? Sometimes people need to be slapped and I just don’t get why it’s not an understood American right.

This thought stems from an incident from this morning where someone tried my patience. Long story short, JW’s neighbor has beef with him about typical neighborly disputes—therefore she has beef with me as a frequent houseguest and witness of disputes. For whatever reason I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt and I’ve been trying to establish some sort of peace in this chaotic rivalry between them but alas, she had to try me. I leave his apartment this morning and drive halfway home only to discover there’s a note on my windshield. Why, who could it be leaving me a nice little love note to take home and cherish? The note was addressed to Bobbi Kristina—which I suppose is funny but kind of missed the mark because:


Not bad looking at all…

  1. I don’t think BK is a terrible looking woman. I actually think she’s cute. Our feminine egos would love for our celebrity doppelgängers to be perhaps more glamorous or sexy but I really don’t care and I’ve been called this before and even nicknamed this by someone and it left me with an overall feeling of “Meh”. (I didn’t even think the neighbor had seen my face enough to make that kind of association).
  2. If it was supposed to be some sort of jab about my gap teeth she’s about 15 years too late. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been made fun of for something that is obviously not a big deal to 99% of the people I meet. Also, life is too short for me to be particularly bothered about not having perfect teeth. I have bills to pay and children to rear!
  3. I am perhaps mean for mentioning this but I have to—the woman who wrote this note is morbidly obese. She is not thick, she is not phat OR even fat; she is a walking heart attack. This woman is so large that she can’t even put her arms down at her sides. I don’t want to be cruel about her health problems because I am a woman that struggles with weight issues as well—but I also would not be so foolish as to leave a threatening note on anyone’s windshield and dare try to tease them about their appearance when I am clearly not placing in any beauty contests myself. It’s just Womanhood 101. Making fun of people with your friends and anonymously on the blog is great fun; but to do so in person reeks of petty high school one upmanship and I’m just not about that life.
Proud GA

Proud Gaprican American and Grown Ass Woman

Anywho, the note was basically the petty kind of stuff you would expect someone to say if they were trying to provoke you, concluding with a nice threat to take home and meditate on. I do not take kindly to being threatened and don’t know too many that do. This animosity between the two neighbors has now become my problem and I am livid. Because I use words like “livid” I’ve heard more than once, “Oh, you don’t look like the type to be a good fighter.” Listen,  my fighting abilities don’t even come into play here; I don’t need to fight—I just need to slap a bitch. It’s so easy and really all that’s necessary to solve this whole dilemma. However, because of silly little words like “assault” and “jail time”, I am not able to do what I need to do to nip this whole thing in the bud. I truly believe that my hands have healing qualities and I would be able to slap the crazy right out of her and she would probably even thank me for releasing her of all her foolishness.

Seriously, what is happening in my life right now that I’m even dealing with this sort of thing? Trying to discuss it with JW is only resulting in us fighting amongst ourselves and I have to say; I really resent this woman and the position she has put me in. I want to support my man and take it to the streets with her—but the onus is on me to be a lady in this situation thus my hands are tied. Becoming the rowdy “hold it down” chick just can’t be on my list of amazing qualities because I have children and a career and simply cannot afford to spend time in in jail AGAIN! So here I am, typing this and taking the high road. The adult thing to do is to defer to my man to solve his own issues with his neighbors and to stay the hell out of it and disregard her note entirely– hard to do without feeling like a little punk.

As nice as it would be to slap a bitch (even only once!) there is  simply too much risk involved. The high road to mature adulthood officially sucks ass…

TD High

To slap or not to slap….THAT’S the mofo question!

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

I forget about it—and that’s my fault really, because how do you forget something that’s actually kind of a big deal? Also, lately I’ve been functioning really well because I haven’t really had the time to be sad or feel depressed—but dammit it really creeps up on you sometimes. I was JUST ok, then I spoke to JW on the phone and I couldn’t stop crying. I managed to get away with disguising it as sleepiness but something punctured and I just can’t get back on track. I feel I’m running from something and I’m feeling the need to escape but from what, I don’t know…  This is it, right? My life is going well, I am trying to find balance and there is nothing wrong with me enough to be feeling this way right now.

It’s going to drive a huge wedge into my relationship—I’m sure of it but I can’t stop it. I’m on the deck of the Titanic staring that huge iceberg in the face.  As humiliating as it was, I tried my best to explain to JW that sometimes I’m just not right and I still don’t know the trick to getting better and functioning like an emotionally healthy adult. I basically felt like I  was saying, “Oops, I forgot to mention that sometimes I’m just crazy and I have no control over when it’s going to happen…good luck!” This is every man’s worst nightmare; thinking everything is moving along just fine then being bamboozled with a random problem that is virtually unsolvable.

Mostly, I am just so fucking embarrassed. Poor me, right? Grew up middle class, and my own poor decisions led to bad relationships and unhealthy thought patterns; now waking up and living everyday has become my most difficult accomplishment. And it’s not really that I want to die…I just don’t want to be hassled with LIVING. I’d love to lie in bed and stare at nothing for the rest of my life. I imagine it’s what heaven must be. I would categorize it as laziness but there’s a debilitating sadness that comes along with it that I just can’t shake. I force myself to keep moving, keep pursuing, keep trying but I’ve hit a wall and everything is happening underwater now. I can’t move—I don’t want to, but I have to. There is nothing going on in my brain, but too much and not enough all at the same time.

I don’t want to write about this, I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want to be the surprise at the dinner table; eating in silence, not knowing what to say and pretending to be present when I’m really functioning in white space. I don’t want anyone to talk to me while I’m eating, I don’t want to pass anyone the bread, or laugh at anyone’s jokes. I just want to drink all the wine and eat all the food in silence fighting my own battle to finally not think or worry about anything at all. I don’t want to have to let someone in– and I’m aware those metaphors don’t make sense.

Sunday Morning


Our love is Sunday morning
Piping hot coffee with your favorite creamer
Preaching the baptized to become believers
Walking, singing, dancing…kindergarten math
The grass beneath bare feet, relaxing bubble bath
Driving 70 miles per hour– countryside
As cool and as comfy as a pillow’s backside
Umbrella in case of rain
Penicillin to dull mild pain

Explosive meteoric collisions don’t apply to us
We’re low maintenance, soft spoken, little or no fuss
No one is jealous, spiteful or unkind
We’re sweet puffs of green and quality time
Hugs from behind and holding hands
The calm of water lapping gently over the sand
Long talks sandwiched between joyous laughter
The obedience of the submissive to the chosen master

You and me babe, we fit together perfectly
I sprout leaves and you are the root of our tree
When the storm comes we move and bend together
Then the it’s over and we worship rainbows forever
Building, growing, living in such simplicity
You are my Sunday morning, babe; you make life easy…

Nutrisystem Diaries – 3.18

*This is not going to be a daily thing…I promise*
I don’t feel like I’m getting any smaller and it’s bumming me out a little. I’m supposed to lose like 5 pounds in the first week– and I translate that to mean that I should bust the two piece out of the closet. And people keep saying, “Well, if you’re working out, you might gain before you lose.” That’s ass backward– I wanna LOSE before I lose HENCE WORKING OUT AND BEING ON THIS STUPID DIET! (Or “lifestyle change” is probably what I’m supposed to call it…)
So, the good thing about Nutrisystem is that you do get to eat all day. My obsession/love affair with food doesn’t have to come to a complete end. So my schedule looks a bit like this:
9am – Breakfast
11am – Snack
1pm – Lunch
3pm – Snack
6 or 7 – Dinner
In theory this sounds awesome, but yesterday my 3pm snack alarm went off and I remember thinking to myself, “Really? I just fucking ate!”  Maybe the angle is to make you eat so often that you just get tired of food in general and it becomes something you have to do to survive and not the highlight of your life (as it used to be!)  I should really hold off on bragging about it though until I start to see some pounds dropping. Tomorrow will be a week…

Two piece swimsuit goals (Forever 21–b/c budget)

Nutrisystem Diaries – 3.17

NSD 3.17

Too much filter

Reason #3,467 of why I want to lose weight:
If I am anything above a size 10-12 I look like a chubby video hoe in whatever I wear!

I put on an outfit this morning that was supposed to say “Its warm outside. I will dress accordingly and professionally. ” However, by the time I got off the bus with my pencil skirt riding high and my tank top riding low, I think I was saying,  “Everyone step back please…I may twerk at any moment!” (Yes I am obsessed with twerking but only because I feel like it looks like I can do it but I can’t. I’m a walking false advertisement.)

Anyway, this is not how want to look while going over expense reports with my boss. Weight loss has to happen because I’m too poor and too vain to start buying baggier clothes. At the very least, I am grateful this skirt doesn’t have a slit in it anywhere. Seriously, what kind of sadistic, perverted fashion designer came up with that bullshit?

What About Your Friends?


In my adult life I am finding that I’m struggling with how to juggle friendships more and more.  I mean, when you’re younger things are fairly easy: who you spend most of your time with is usually your best friend. Following by those rules, I suppose a few months ago my brother would have qualified as my best friend. He is my roommate, we are forced to coordinate schedules and plans and he was the first person I debriefed with when I came home from work. But now, through no easy transition, the person who knows most about my daily thoughts, opinions and emotions as well as gets most of my time is JW. Do I consider him my best friend? Definitely! But where does that leave everyone else?

Letting Go of Luxuries


Here I am again, saying what no one else will ever admit or say: friends? Ain’t nobody got time for that! Of course I am only joking. I just believe that it’s not only nice but very necessary to have low maintenance friends. For whatever reason, I seem to be a magnet for the, “You didn’t respond to my text,” or “We haven’t hung out in a week,” type. Quality time = yay! but its frustrating to be categorized as a bad friend because I just simply can’t put in alot of facetime. The legitimate excuse is that I’m a single mother with a full time job, writing side hustle and relationship to maintain. Perhaps the illegitimate excuse is that more often than not in the free time I do get all to myself I just don’t want to be bothered with trivial things like putting on clothes let alone hanging out.

In my younger days I was that flaky asshole that disappeared from the face of the Earth for long periods at a time, then returned to the friend circle when I felt I had the energy to properly engage. Now I just tell people what it is straight up and make no excuses. I love you but I simply cannot give 100% at this time. It is not in my budget for dinners and movies and catching up and I am in the process of finding a larger place to live but because of space issues I don’t even feel comfortable having company at my apartment.  In those rare moments when the stars do align and I find myself having sufficient funds, the energy to socialize and the free time, I do hit my friends up for a hangout and am immediately given shit for only contacting them for quality time on my schedule. Sighhhhhh, this is so confusing! Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do! I don’t know how to win and I’m losing friends left and right because of it.

Blurred Lines

I know that society as a whole is made up of a bunch of hardcore gangstas that continue to do remarkably well in highly intense emotional situations. I am truly impressed by all the Internet memes I see carrying a tough and calloused message about a past relationship or boasting of cutting off people you don’t fuck with. Kudos to all of you but I have to say for me personally, the past 18 months of watching my friends list dwindle down to the low single digits has been hurtful. My thirties have already been tough. 


I’m smart enough to have learned that not everyone is your friend. The people who make you laugh and loan you $5 for lunch and the co-workers that you keekeekee with in the break room can be the same people that would refuse to spit on you if you were on fire. What I wasn’t smart enough to know or realize until recently is that sometimes you grow out of friendships or have to give it up because of unforeseen circumstances.

Not long ago, I had to make a painful decision to let go of a friend that was basically a sister to me. To the outside world looking in I am a complete douchebag for doing so but it was a decision I had to make for my psychological well being. I made a bad decision to be messy and became romantically involved with her close relative– that was a mistake on me. One rambunctious child and a whole world of heartbreak later I realized that a major reason I couldn’t break away from the depression the situation put me through is because I was too close to her (and his family) and I was struggling with the blurry lines and fuzzy boundaries. It is already a difficult task to heal or forgive someone that has broken you but I was making my life more tumultuous by surrounding myself with my ex lover’s biggest fans every single day. I knew too much information about his personal life and it was nearly impossible for me to ignore the position he had put me and my child in by continuing to lie and not taking responsibility for shitty actions. The tension within me began to build.

I eventually reached a breaking point and every time I spent time with this friend I wanted to scream, “HOW IS THIS OK? HOW CAN YOU CONTINUE TO LET YOUR FAMILY DO THIS TO ME AND MY CHILD AND YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE MY FRIEND? DOESN’T ANYONE GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ME?!” The painful answer to that is: sure, but only to a certain extent. Blood is always thicker than water for most people so when it came time to battle, draw a line in the sand and to choose sides I was out on a limb by myself. That’s totally fine, but it wasn’t something that I could cope with– I am on the side of my wellbeing and I choose to stand with people I know are rocking with me as well. I made the controversial decision to cut ties with her and the entire family. You can’t always get what you want…

Shout out to all of those people who feel nothing when they have to completely delete someone out of their lives for whatever reason. As for me, I feel the pain of it everyday.

No New Friends

As a whole, I don’t think anyone is really aware of just how much friendships change and grow over the years. Furthermore, I don’t think people understand that this is ok. The days of slumber parties and all night talks are pretty much gone and juggling life goals, dreams, CHILDREN, etc. adds in extra complications. I feel like I spend the majority of my time with friends apologizing for not being a better friend and this may sound terrible but: I don’t want to do it anymore. I  narrow my friends list down to those that understand that I love them very much and am willing to bend in times of need but for the most part I can’t be a Gayle to anyone’s Oprah until I achieve a little more balance (and/or the kids grow up and move out of the house!) I don’t know if this is the right way to handle things but I’m not sure of how else to go about it.

I am thankful for the people in my life that understand that I am simply doing the best I can to achieve balance. I pay it forward as much as I can, I’m just too exhausted to do much more :-/


Nutrisystem Diaries


My nutrisystem was delivered last night! I ripped open the box and quickly selected a few menu items to take with me to JW’s house. I was excited—and he was excited for me in the most diplomatic way possible.

I told him the news through the curtain in the bathroom as he showered. “That’s great, baby. You’re going to lose a lot of weight and feel good.” Kind of a slippery slope thing for him to say (for any man to make any comment about any woman’s weight EVER), but I feel like I know him well enough to realize that he likes me as I am and just wants me to feel the same. Later as I attempted to climb into bed while still wearing my shirt, he flashes me a flirty grin and softly suggests I take it off. The thought, to me, is horrifying. I don’t want my belly flip flopping in bed as we lay together and I don’t want to have to worry about jiggling or moving too much in general—but what baby wants, baby gets. We’ve been together long enough, but I still feel shy in those moments…the shirt came off.

He rubbed my back and said, “Look at you…” Feeling slightly more at ease I lay down on the pillows. He leaned over me and cupped my face. “You are so beautiful,” he said.

THIS is the moment I will use to propel me forward in my weight loss efforts.


Also, I took 3 shits today………

Instagram Pretty


Going through some things and scrolling through social media is NOT helping. Why is everyone on everything every where just so fucking hot? Am I the only one that has to take like 40 selfies with specific lighting before I find one that’s just kind of decent enough for me to dare posting?

Maybe I need to hire a make up artist that does contouring,  or quit the open mic stuff and do the introverted writer thing full time. I don’t know,  I’m still mulling it over.  I think the last time I tried to send a sexy pic to my man I ended up using a filter so dark I’m sure he could barely make out my facial features. Anyway, it’s definitely not a good time in the world to have low self esteem because the hot bitch cup runneth over. Advice for the regular ass looking chicks out there? Flaunt your personality like a big booty ho and no one will even notice the difference. Worth it once you learn to perfect it…but still haven’t figured out how to capture all that personality in a Facebook profile pic.