Long-Awaited

This one's dedicated to my darling Amy, (whose HNT is SOO much better than mine but it's ok)



"Her sister's dark/but she is/sho'nuff pretty/Her skirt is short/but Lord/Her legs are sturdy" ("Living for the City," Stevie Wonder)
Can y'all guess which one's me? Haha, a happy HNT. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for my legs ;-)

The Yahoo! Reign of Terror Continues

My dear, dear Italian spaghetti noodle of lurrrrve, Vittoria, has already expressed her dismay at Yahoo!* and their so-called dating advice. I agreed with--and chortled at--most of V's claims, and when I came across this [gag-worthy] gem of an article, I immediately imagined her response as "Are you effing kidding me?!?!:

#5: Send Him the Diary Entry You Wrote After Your First Date -- or Write One Now

One of the best things about having a girlfriend is reminiscing about what you thought about each other in the beginning of your relationship. Reliving all of the uncertainty and anxiety is strangely exhilarating. I can't think of a better anniversary present than a sanctioned peek into the documented thoughts of someone I care about.

Um. No. No ma'am. Well, at the very least proceed with extreme caution. If you do this even a minute too early, and he gets an unfiltered look at how googly-eyed you were over him in the beginning, HE WILL RUN SCREAMING FOR THE HILLS.

Trust me on this.

*That exclamation point was meant to be sarcastic, by the way.

My Shindig

If I were to ever have a swanky yet laid-back dinner party in which I could invite anyone, I would have to have two: one for the older more sophisticated people and the other for the young partiers like myself. Or hell, maybe one big one. Amy listed her dinner guests, and here's mine. I'd invite my own friends, of course, and no entourages allowed!

They Seem Fun:

1. B Scott.
2. Bethenny from Real Housewives of NYC (even though she'd probably leave early as there's no one for her to talk to)
3. William Sledd (ditto. Well, maybe he and B. Scott would chat)
4. Day 26 and the group formerly known as Danity Kane
5. Dwight Howard (he seems funny)
6. Amy Winehouse
7. Travis from Gym Class Heroes
8. Keri Hilson
9. the cast of Gossip Girl (but I don't know why, I just would)
10. Oprah (she probably wouldn't come but I'd be remiss not to invite her. I'd wedge her in between me and B. Scott at dinner)
11. Amy and Vixen Chick (because I like, love them)

Most Certainly Not Invited

1. Kyle from College Hill: Being gay does not give you license to be venomous without substantial provocation.
2. P. Diddy: he does too much, plus tension between him and Day 26/DK would kill the vibe
3. anyone associated with the Kardashians: and I know they'd try to sneak in, too...
4. Lil' Wayne: well, maybe if he popped in for a sec then left. Trouble follows him.

Decor: Bestey Johnson meets Kimora Lee Simmons. See ya there!

Sexy Things Meme

Once again, I was tagged by the delightful Amy to fill out this "Sexy Things" questionairre. Eesh, this may be kind of hard, I am such a nerd...

1. My lips
Get your minds out of the gutter, dirty birdies! I have been blessed with a nice full pucker, and it comes in handy because most of the time, I'm smiling or laughing. This also gives me a reason to stock up on my favorite lip glosses, because I figure if something takes up half your face, it should look nice and be sparkly.

Preserving the sexy. I adore being a girl!

2. My size
I am considered tall--5'7, and athletically curvy. I have dreamt of being petite and compact but it is just not in the cards. Instead, I often feel like it's just...a lot of body for one person, you know? I'm broad-shouldered and long-legged, and combined with high heels and big hair I can feel tranny-like.

I had a point.

My body is strong and rarely lets me down. When I look in the mirror, I see more or less a classic woman's shape, no scrawny hips or peeking ribs here. And I love it.

3. My ears
My ears are ridiculously tiny. Guys think they are cute. Cute equals sexy. Ergo, my ears are sexy.

4. My disposition
Follow me here. From what I understand, men like fairly low-maintenance, natural beauty. Haphazard, rumpled, just woke up-sexy. Luckily, that's my specialty. I like to straddle the line with my clothes to my laid-back, yet flirty demeanor. My aesthetic is girl next door with a hint of sex appeal. It's fun and leaves room to experiment, in case one day I'm feeling casual and the next glamorous, hopefully it comes off as approachable!

Honorable mention: My legs
Ok, ok, must give credit where credit is due, they are a big weapon in my arsenal. I just measured them: 39.5 inches long. Out of a total 67 inches. You do the math. Thanks to genetics, dancing, cheerleading, and all-around hyperactivity, my legs get me where I need to go and turn a few heads in the process :)

I'm blushing!

Tagged, I'm It!

I was tagged by the lovely Amy of Sex, Chocolate, and Red Lipstick. Here goes!

8 Things I Am Looking Forward To:

1. NBA playoff basketball
2. a summer internship with a major sports team/franchise :)
3. meeting my next boyfriend (wherever he is he needs to hurry up and make his presence known!)
4. seeing my family soon for summer vacation
5. Obsessed starring Sasha Fierce and Idris Elba aka Sex on a Stick
6. a fancy-dress event with Motown Lover next weekend
7. The Paper's major "Men of the Year" issue--I'm excited for the photo shoots I helped plan
8. shopping--I see it for the near future: I want a bright sundress and some nail polish
Hon. Mention: hot swimming weather!

8 Things I Did Yesterday
1. Slept in (yay for canceled class!)
2. got my eyebrows done
3. shaved my legs, I think/I hope haha
4. applied for a scholarship (I really hope I get it because last year the awards banquet was super-fun)
5. reflected on my past, ill-fated crushes and cringed
6. spent inordinate amounts of time on Facebook
7. rented "The Brothers" and "The House Bunny"
8. got caught in the rain

8 Things I Wish I Could Do
1. cuddle in this thunderstorm
2. watch the Pistons try and take a 3-0 lead over the Cavaliers tomorrow
3. flirt successfully
4. turn back the hands of time (just kidding)
5. buy Season 2 of Gossip Girl
6. open the bottle of Pepsi downstairs (I had to CUT the top third off of the bottle...it wouldn't budge!)
7. measure my running distances in miles, not minutes
8. stop procrastinating
Hon. mention: wear heels and skirts without feeling like a tranny

8 Shows That I Watch
Eek! Don't know if it's that many...
1. Gossip Girl
2. One Tree Hill
3. Kimora: Life in the Fab Lane
4. The Game
5. Millionaire Matchmaker
6. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
7. The Cosby Show
8. Inside the NBA
Hon. mention: Ask a Gay Man (it's a youtube series. Sue me).

I tag: Vixen, Vittoria, the Brooklyn Boy

More Harry Potter Nonsense

How amazingly awesome is this newest Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince trailer? I watched in the Paper office on Friday and was writhing in my chair with excitement. I want this one to be rated at least PG-13.



I have lost all willpower and desire to finish my homework in the name of this here video clip. Watch and be amazed.

PS--sometimes I get a little embarrassed at how much I adore Harry and the gang, but thankfully, those times are few and far in-between. Most of the time I just lurrrrrrve them.

Love Thy Neighbor

Right on and hallelujah.

Cheers...or Not

After chuckling merrily at Vittoria's epic tale of Andre-themed debauchery, I fully intended to comment, but length of said comment was enough to warrant an actual post of my own.

Vittoria's story included chicken and champagne. I think I can do her almost one better: Mine includes Doritos and tequila.

It was Spring Break.

Advice: don't kill a full bag of Doritos and then do numerous shots of tequila (Tequila? Yep, it was tequila. And I'm sure other things but mostly...tequila). Were they "numerous" in the ordinary sense? Um, no.

See, earlier in the day we went to an arcade and I of course completely rocked at Skee-Ball and therefore accumulated lots of tickets and when I went to turn 'em in for the prize, I came across these little plastic cups. Cups that, I thought, looked too small to be considered actual shot glasses, and so it stood to reason that I get two instead of one.

Do you see the impending problem? A few drinks later, my thought process (I imagine) went as follows: since the one maybe-shot glass looks like half of a real shot, DUH must then drink double.

Multiply the term "let's do a shot" by two, repeat within an average pre-gaming time frame, and what you will then have on your hands is a catastrophe. And frankly, Doritos-flavored vomitus. In a club. In a ladies' room sink.

The rest is a history which I shan't repeat here. I mean, it really isn't BAD in the grand scheme of things (I returned with all of my clothes, which is a plus) but, well, a) it's all a blur, and more importantly 2) it's mortifyingly mortifying. Like, waking up the next morning in the fetal position under the covers yelling internally "what the hell was I thinking this is not the Bad Girls' Club oh God I won't have any friends left yecch my stomach hurts I need Jesus"-mortifying.

I'm no one's prude or anything but that night put me off libations for...the time being. Except Fuzzy Navels. And even those might have to wait awhile...plus, ok, the next time we went out, I was totally sober and I met that boy. SIGN.

PS-If you meet a boy on a vacation from which you are leaving the next day and never hear from him again and he doesn't have Facebook, does he even exist??

Oh, Put a Lid...I Mean, Ring, On It

MERRY BELATED CHRISTMAS, YE MERRY BLOGGERS. I thought about you all, I really did. Hope everybody had a grand-slam of a Christmas, I sure did (LAL 92, BOS 83, for starters). But for the record, young, attractive, happy couples are not allowed in my house [presence] anymore. It's depressing.

Why did I not get out of bed until (I'm ashamed) 5:28pm??? Blame it on my fabulous new One Tree Hill Season 5 box set, which kept me awake long after guests had left...what did everybody get? Spill in the comments, I'm curious!

Sad news about Eartha Kitt, though. She did the damn thing...even though, I have to be honest, "Santa Baby' is my least favorite song on Earth. I feel bad about saying it now, but I truly hate it. Still, she was a legend.

A black female legend, you say? Wait for it, wait for it...aha, of course, Miss B-Day herself is slated to play Eartha in a biopic. *Blank stare followed by exasperated sigh*. Beyonce. GIRL. If I have to, as Luvvie hilariously puts it, watch as you wear a bad wig, cuss awkwardly, and choke on smoke, I will lose my damn mind. This is not coming from a place of hateration, but Bey can't act like that. And certainly not at the level where the first name I think of to play a legendary female and knock it out of the park is Beyonce Carter (nee Knowles). I mean, there's even sort of a taboo in Hollywood that people only really star in more than one or even two biopics. Even still, starring in several and doing so successfully means that you are a certified high-roller. See Washington, Denzel as Hurricane, Malcom X, or hell, Herman Boone. See also Smith, Will as Muhammed Ali, that guy in The Pursuit of Happyness, and, let's take an honest look into the future, Barack Obama. These are acting heavyweights who take on the task of "becoming" someone else, doing it well, and turning around to repeat that feat. And here comes Beyonce's non-acting ass. I admire her hustle but this has got to stop. I'm just saying to me, she belongs on my Ipod, not in my DVD player**.

OR MY CLOSET.

**Ok, ok, not including The Beyonce Experience, 'cause that sh*t was wondrous. Peep my favorite part:

The Blog is Mightier Than the Pillow

Let it be known, I seriously have a BOMB-ASS blogroll.

You guys are poignant. You guys are funnyistic. YOU GUYS ARE KEEPING ME AWAKE AT 5:03 IN THE MORNING WITH YOUR HILARIOUSITY.

So knock it off. Damn.

Except don't. Seriously, keep up the good work and sh*t.

Winners of the "Stupid Ass Parents" Contest

Sometimes, people shock me with their stupidity. But, in doing so, sometimes the dissenters shock me in a good way, too. That was the case with this whole "dumbass parents who named their kid 'Adolf Hitler'" drama. There's not a WORD to describe how I feel about the fucked-up-icityosityness of those parents. Little Alfie might get his ass beat once he starts school, even though he didn't choose his name. And I bet when the class covers WWII the teacher will be throwing her parents a MEAN side-eye in spirit. Sigh. Ramifications, people. Just...wow.

Here's my opinion on all this (key word: opinion).

Racism is still alive and present, contrary to popular belief. I've been lucky enough to never have been outrightly discriminated against, but I still get the *side-eye* too much for comfort when I'm in certain parts of Southern State, and it's not because I'm a snazzy dresser. And it seems sometimes that when there's outward or newsworthy racism, an annoying few commenters ('cause I gauge public opinion from the internet, natch) are all "well, why CAN'T black people act right?" So when this happened, I almost expected commenters to be all "well it's free speech" or "he said he has black friends" or even still, "but for real, for real, why CAN'T black people act right?!" But I have to say I was pleasantly surprised to see that there are still some lines that shant be crossed in terms of race, white supremacy being one of them.

'Cause I have to be honest: skinheads/that Aryan shit/supremacists scare the HELL out of me (seeing as I'm black and all, lol)...has anyone seen Higher Learning? Fun Fact: Ty Ty Baby was in it.

And what a scintillating performance she gave.

Anyway, in this age of free speech and whatnot, where the KKK is allowed to have rallies and has the gall to ask BHO to speak at its convention (for reals, google that shit. Update: scratch that, don't google it. You'll just get mad. Trust me), stuff slips in through the cracks every now and then on a technicality. I don't think about it often 'cause these people are extremists (hopefully/probably) in the minority, but it's still scary. But the public outcry from this story gave me comfort that, yes, there is still racism, but no sir, y'all are on another level of "that shit is NOT okay."

Not today, not tomorrow, not on payday.

And also, someone cyber-asked if anyone's ever seen like, well-to-do white supremacists. Like, ones with a respectable-to-profitable occupation, decent taste in clothing, or decent dental care (seriously, click on that link and get into those teeth. Pause for effect.)? I think not. Even the guy in Higher Learning had an unfortunate ponytail/pasty skin situation. This answer exacted the conclusion that white supremacy is a good example of, actually, an inferiority complex! Or Bottom of the Totem Pole Syndrome, where, essentially, they have literally NOTHING else going in any aspect of their sad lives, and only have "well, at least I'm white, therefore I'm better than most in my own way." Um, not really, but do you. Just keep that shit on your side of the farm, sir.

The journalist in me wants to interview these sad, sad people and kill them. With my intellectualosity, and poignant questions, of course! Again, I'm lucky, during the elections, a lot of my friends at My College were like, "I never knew how racist my people back home are!" and I was all, "Really? Damn. I know some slightly ignorant but well-meaning people, but they ain't outright** racist. Sucks to be you, let's go get some food." That said, I don't know what I would say if someone was outright racist to me. I don't mean saying something rude with underlying racial subtext but like, "you blacks sure are [insert insult here]." Especially now, with my HBCU-state of mind, which is quickly any "acceptable Negro" leftover from high school.

**Some make the argument that there are many "dinner table racists" who act tolerant but really are as racist as the day is long. That may be true, but I can't worry about that--I consider that paranoid and plus, I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. When you make your prejudices known and it affects me, THEN we might [will] have a problem.

I wonder if I'll ever have to interview an Aryan Nation-supporter or something, though. Truthfully, it'd be kind of fascinating--in a sick way. I really want to know the mindset of a racist person, want to know why they think they way they do and think it's ok. The first thing I'd ask would be, "you know you're probably going to Hell, right?"

Ok, maybe not on-camera.

But in this case, I would ask, "What reason would you give a Holocaust survivor who wanted to know why you named your daughter after the man responsible for what was probably the worst experience of their life, 6 million others' lives, and brought shame to an entire country?"

Eh, the parents are probably the type who think the Holocaust numbers were exaggerated, that Hitler had his attractive points, or even, more infuriatingly, that the whole thing never happened. On second thought, I couldn't interview them for too long; I would probably jump across the table and there would be slapping involved.

Ugh. I cannot think about this anymore. These fucktards are messing up my chi, when I should be thinking happy holiday thoughts. And about the Sloppy Joes I just made. Plus, I had good news but I had to call foul on this one. A double "eff you" goes to the Campbells for pushing back my good news. See what you've started?

And I thought naming your kid "Bronx Mowgli" "God'Iss Love" or "Audio Science" was bad. Or Shaniqua.

PS: there were more than 72 celebrity babies born this year. Got-dayum!
PPS: Cedric the Entertainer named his daughter Lucky! Go off!
PPPS: On second thought, I don't mind the name Bronx Mowgli. I like New York and I like The Jungle Book.

Roll On

By tomorrow afternoon I could be a high-roller or a bummy college kid. I don't want to jinx anything, of course, so you'll have to wait for deets. Either way it goes, by tomorrow evening I will be en route Back Home to the Midwest, where it's, oh, probably 25 and snowy. And Christmas is coming! And my one-year blogversary! Oh, yes. I will miss, however, Southern State's cute boys and abundance of gay men. There aren't nearly enough of either where I'm going.



I. CANNOT. WAIT. When I first saw this video I just about died...then yelled out "I've been there!" to almost every landmark that came onscreen. Say what you will about him, but I fucks with Kid Rock, especially after this vid...

Sheeza, I've got a lot of packing to do. I never remember what I need for my month-long stay at home, so I end up with sweatshirts, my entire underwear drawer, and barely any real clothes. Lord.

I was reading Amy's like list (adorable, btw), and one of hers was "goodnight texts." Sigh. I adore those, even better when accompanied by a "good morning, babe" text the next morning. It's the little shit like that I miss (I have to be slightly vulgar, see, to keep from being overly sentimental. These memories are tryin' to test my gangsta, and I won't have it). So I don't sink into "slightly depressed mode," throw me a lifeline, ye merry commenters. Give me some good things about being single. Sleeping in the middle of the bed, eating the last piece of cake, burping for the world to hear, you know, stuff like that. God bless in advance for keeping my soul intact.

I'm Freaking Out

Classic college conundrum**: I just found out that I have a 15-page paper due on Tuesday. Your eyes do not deceive you, it is indeed Saturday evening. Please join me in a memorial service for my weekend/sanity. I'm kicking my own ass right now for not realizing. Fuck. Pray for me long and hard.

**I am so glad that even in these trying times I manage to alliterate. I amaze myself.

Update: It's Sunday, and I have about 9-10 pages done. Applaud my strength! That's pretty impressive, considering I keep getting distracted by Facebook, random blogs, and music. Jazmine Sullivan's "Lions, Tigers, and Bears" and Usher's "Love You Gently" are officially My Shit. Even though I'm a public school computer, somehow I got ITunes to work and currently have a nice little playlist going. My awesomeness is unparalleled. Just...wow. It should be illegal.

My Favorite Dirty Mistress

If I go to bed now, the weekend will be over, so I'm still perched on the couch watching Grey's Anatomy. Speaking of which, today (well, yesterday) is McSteamy's birthday. Gotta loove those Scorpios (listen to "Signs of Lovemaking" by Tyrese. Our reputations preceed us). Yum-o. I'd take some OR time with him any day of the week...

More later, my comp hopefully comes back all bright and shiny tomorrow. I haven't forgotten about being blog-survey tagged by Vixen Chick, so look out for that. Also, is anyone tatted up out there? I want one but my chicken-shit side is coming out. I'm thinking of getting a small four-leaf clover on my shoulder...because I'm Lucky, get it? What do you think? Happy Monday, yall!

What It's All About

"Step Out on Faith" by Kevin A. Williams



"Power of Love" (K.A.W.)



"The Future" (K.A.W.)

Because I just can't get enough of that black love!
Next, I'm gonna get one of these shirts...

Awww

I'm still here, folks. Enjoy this video while I try to get my life together...



Cute, right? But get into her face at the 0:33 mark. She's like, "Who the fuck is...now I KNOW that is not...ok for real, somebody please tell me what the fuck is goin' on..."

D&G versus The Nuddy-Pants

The Young Lady just posted about the ironclad principle of looking positively and satisfyingly FLAWLESS upon the first time seeing that omnipresent Ex Who Did You Dirty. I myself have walked down this road many a time, with mixed results. I once ran into Tex wearing sweaty gym clothes. Before I went into the gym, mind. So I didn't even have the pleasure of looking flushed and radiant, but instead, um, bloated. But on the other side of things, the infamous night when the Runner should have, by all accounts, been trying to put the moves on me but didn't, due to what can only be attributed to him being a pansy**, I decided to raise the stakes by wearing my troublemaking outfit-complete with black leather boots and a lingerie-style top. Yes, his eyes appropriately popped out of their sockets, but for some reason he remained annoyingly chivalrous. The fucker.

**This situation aside, though, he really is a nice boy. Well, when he wants to be.

Anyway, I have yet to completely master the art of looking jaw-droppingly sexy in order to exact revenge. My clothes can demand attention, or at least an appreciative once-over, when I put my mind to it. The first time I hung out with Homeboy I wore a miniskirt that had obviously ulterior motives. Motown Lover saw it and said, "Well-played. Good job," because, well, I have great legs. Let's not be churlish, here. So yes, when I remember to, I can play the game. But most of my clothes are casual; 95% of the time, I'm wearing jeans. At least 50% of my wardrobe is of the denim persuasion. Most of the time I rely on sleeveless tops, tousled hair, and shameless flirting to get the job done, because mission will probably not be accomplished with a t-shirt, torn jeans and flip-flops alone.

I have a point somewhere...oh yes. Because I've been flirted with and ignored by guys** while wearing both sweats and cute sundresses, I've come to the conclusion that clothes can only do so much when it comes to dating-related situations. I should know. I used to be the girl who went clubbing in plain cotton t-shirts and jeans (looking back, though, I don't quite know what the hell I was thinking) and still had a fun-ass time. It's that knowledge that lets me be just as comfortable in shorts and a tank top as I am in a dress and heels. If I were to ever actually wear a dress with heels to something other than a fancy event or special occasion, that is.

**Now that I think about it, the first time I met Tex I had beastly allergies, my inaugural meeting with Science Guy had me wearing totally unsexy, cold-weather gear, and the last time I ran into the Runner, I had on, you guessed it, sweatpants. Universe, if you're listening, that's a little unfair.

Again with the rambling. I do love the idea of looking drop-dead gorgeous in the face of adversity or ex-boyfriends, it's just a formula that I haven't figured out yet. If you want to get technical with it, I hold much more store in things like perfume, soft skin, or delightfully mussed hair. I have a theory (again, for dating-type situations, not necessarily in everyday life): you wear hot clothes to get attention to meet somebody and eventually get naked with them. So why not instead spend money and effort looking good NAKED? Or nearly naked! Clothes are just the wrapping paper, it's the gift INSIDE that counts, people!

LOL. Is everyone still present and accounted for? Good. Let us battle on.

My brilliant hypothesis aside, I have to say that recently I have paid more attention to what I wear; despite my theory, I can't just walk around starkers, you know. Plus I had the internship and job and had to portray some semblance of sophisticosity. And with that, I must admit that if I ever had to confront an ne'er-do-well ex, I wouldn't mind doing it in something like this:



I LOVE the simplicity of a stunning little black dress.



I couldn't find the designer of J-Hud's dress anywhere, but Halle's and Mandy's is Dolce and Gabbana. I refused to use a picture of a model wearing this dress, 'cause I couldn't find one with enough curves to rock the dress the way it was meant to be rocked. And damn that Halle Berry: she was pregnant when this picture was taken! If I had the means, motive, and opportunity (not to mention the guts) to do so, I'd wear this dress everywhere. I'd be "the girl in the glasses who wears that little black D&G to, like, the dentist."

Note: you may be wondering why I'm still awake, blathering on about life's minutiae. Firstly, if you've been paying attention AT ALL you know that I stay up too late for my own good. Also because when I took a break from packing I never started up again, and as a result I can't quite locate my bed. So here we are.

Merlin's Beard!

Yes, friends, another Harry Potter post is upon us. But, the news is bad this time around. According to the Daily Prophet (or, ok, New York Magazine), Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince will be pushed back from this Thanksgiving until July. As in 2009! That news was worthy of an Unforgivable Curse, and not "Avada Kedavra!" as much as "What the fuck!?" It's nothing pertaining to the actual movie, which is in post-production, but about the bottom line and Warner Brothers' need for a summer box-office smash. So, as big corporations are wont to do, they are using HP as a lifesaver. Boo. I totally couldn't wait for the movie, I was probably going to see it on Turkey Day, and now, nothing. Just hit me with a Stunning Spell, why dontcha?! (For S & G's, extra points to the fellow nerd who can leave the Stunning incantation in their comment).

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I bring forth good tidings to ye. You are now reading the writings of [Huge Sports TV Network's] newest fall intern! That enormously scary thing I had to do was a phone interview, and they offered me a position right on the spot, which I accepted right on said spot. It's funny, last year, I actually interviewed for the same position with a rather bored and snooty lady who subsequently turned me down. And now, with a scholarship and a personal recommendation from the director of the company under my belt, all I have to do is fill my name out correctly on the application *smirks*. This has been a good, no, fantabulous summer. Wowza.

Trying to Tell Me Something?

Flirting Faux Pas Women Make in Bars

You Act like a Crazy Person
To avoid coming across like that woman who thinks she's being charismatic when she's merely speaking way too loud and annoying everyone around her, when in doubt, keep your little "eccentricities" in check. (Ivillage.com)

I think this might be for me.

And You Can't be an Idiot...Can You?

Note: Parental Advisory. Explicit Content.

She Can’t be a Whore…. Can She?

Every guy wants his girlfriend to have a little experience in the bedroom, right fellas? But my question today is, how much experience is too much experience. Guys, have you ever been with a woman that you really liked and she did something while making love that made you look at her a little different? Or what about when it comes down to oral sex, you never want your girl to be a pro. I know that may have sounded a little crazy but trust and believe, when your with that special lady, and she decides to go down on you, for the first 30 seconds it is going to be the best time of your life until your mind starts to wonder, ”She’s a little TOO GOOD at this, Damn! How many times has she practiced?” Now you cant even concentrate cause your thinking your girlfriend is a WHORE!

Just a little food for thought.

Okay. I was innocently blog-surfing and watching License to Wed (bad but delightful, as is my preference) when I came across this post from Distinguished Gentlemen. Apparently, this guy gets suspicious upon receiving...oh, I'll just say it, head, that's "too good." I'm going to go out on a limb here and ask just what, as many call, the fuck? As simply and briefly as possible, together we're going to break this down.

"When it comes down to oral sex, you never want your girl to be a pro."

I am so sure. Having many college-age male friends as reference points, I feel confident in raising my imaginary gavel with a hearty, "Objection, Your Honor!" at this statement. Since when do guys not fully appreciate and hope for the best oral attention they've ever gotten? Does he mean "pro" as in, she used to be a prostitute? Okay, that I understand, even though, I mean, everyone deserves a second chance, and all. But still. A fully-functioning, hetero male doesn't want his girl to be really, really, really good at head? Something in the milk ain't clean.

"Your mind starts to wonder, 'She’s a little TOO GOOD at this, Damn! How many times has she practiced?'”

Color me naive, but I was under the impression that if a guy is receiving mind-blowing head, what on earth could he possibly be thinking except "I'm in love!" and not, as this blogger seems to think, an accusatory, "why is she so good at this?" Who the hell cares? She's good and she's being gracious enough to share her skills with you, and here you are complaining. Just plain ungrateful.

"Guys, have you ever been with a woman that you really liked and she did something while making love that made you look at her a little different?"

What ever happened to "to each his own"? If there is any place where this statement holds true, it is in the bedroom, people! What, her tastes are a little more kinky, imaginative, or, heaven forbid, a little different than yours, and suddenly she's some sort of nympho freak? Seems a little closed-minded to me. And frankly, a little misogynistic. This piece takes me back to the days where women were expected to accept and suffer through sex as opposed to being willing participants, or--heaven forbid!--have wide and varying tastes and experience levels.

Not to mention, no sane woman would EVER think, "Holy shiz. He's really good at 'lingus. I don't like where this is going."

Get the HELL out of here.