Questa è una vita meravigliosa in cui viviamo.
This is a wonderful life we live…
so let’s talk about flirtation…
I am near horrible when it comes knowing when I’m being flirted with.
This is what I’m saying in my mind when I think I’m being flirted with:
Was that a wink?
What does he mean by that?
Wait… is he flirting with me?
Does he know he’s not my type?
OK, SERIOUSLY that a wink or a twitch?
If that’s a twitch he needs to get that looked at…
This is getting weird… I gotta go…
Why is he looking at me like that?
Don’t I have something to do in the opposite direction?
(to the first person who walks by) Hellllllllllllllllllllp meeeee…
(to my notreallymyfriendbutI’llpretendlikewe’refriendstowalkthehellawayfromthissituation) “Hey girl, how’s that thing that we were talking about never.” *and walks away*
Huh. See sometimes, unless I’m being looked up and down, I don’t know when I’m being flirted with. And then I get really uncomfortable when the person whose flirting with me is old, disgusting, and has no chance in hell.
Like as I walking in the house a few minutes ago, this old guy with practically no teeth and a cigarette in his mouth was all like “You look good. Real good.” And you look old and nasty. Real old. Real nasty. I jammed my key into the door so fast… Where does he come from? I don’t even think he lives over here…
Anyway… I’m not that good of a flirter (Is that spelled right?) either. By the time a guy figures out that I like him, it’s too late. I am mentally in a relationship with somebody else. I have moved on. I have packed by invisible things and my thoughts and dreams are dedicated to another someone.
The train has left that station.
Elvis has left the building.
Haute couture has left the runway. The fabulous had been sucked out of fashion. Things are done. The party’s over.
Too much? OK.
So let’s talk about flirtation? How do I know when I’m being flirted with? How do I get out of situations when I’m being flirted with by a person who is not… cute or interesting or has halitosis? And how do you flirt? What are your tricks of the trade?
Tell me you fabulous flirting divas… teach me your wisdom…
Let me know…
I don’t trust people who walk out of the house in their pajamas. Obviously they lack better judgement….
Hello, dolls! I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing but I hope all is well and life is fabulous!
OK, so today in horse class instead of having class in the inside arena we had class in the outside arena. Now, the best place to horseback ride is outside because it feels absolutely AHmazing when you’re riding and the wind is blowing through the holes in your helmet. But you should only ride outside when your feel comfortable riding inside.
And here’s why: my Lady Lightning, who’s 24, which technically mans she’s old for a horse, who’s so sweet and slow and lazy and nonchalant was moving like a speed demon today.
I don’t know, something happens. Horses get outside and see grass and sky and for a minute- they forget they’ve been domesticated. They start like running and feeling the air flowing through their mane and they’re “like this is awesome- why have I been in my stall for the past few months?” So Lady was like trotting really fast and cantering fast and was trying to canter even when I didn’t ask her to and was tripping (like literally) and stuff. And did I mention that a horse spooked her and she ran for like five to ten seconds? Not cantered… ran. Big deal. Big difference. I even had to tell her to “Stop, stop,” because she was getting excited and trying to canter even when I didn’t ask her too, and I’ve never had to do that with Lady Lightning. But I guess it’s good for me because I have to be that much more in control and attentive especially because there were barrels and other set ups for jumps and Lady Lighting undoubtedly would’ve jumped if I had let her.
Speed demon that Lady Lightning is.
And then she put spit on my hand when I fed her a carrot! And the spit was bubbly. Ewww…
But then again… she is Lady Lightning and I love her and I genuinely feel like we’re friends, like we understand each other. I’ve never had any bond with an animal as strong as the bond that I feel with Lady. She’s really my BHF. Best horse-y friend.
‘Til next time…
If I believed in hell, dahhling, I’d be quite convinced that many of “hell- goers,” sentenced to time after death to burn for their sins, would be wearing heels.
It is by the will and strength of women that nations were and are allowed to rise and fall. Because behind every great man, is even greater, better dressed woman.
Let me just begin by saying that, with time, Insanity doesn’t get easier people. No, you’re just able to last longer when you’re doing the exercise, you don’t start to like the exercises. But anyway, I’ve skipped like three or four days of Insanity (shame on me). I’ve been told that I look like I’ve lost a few inches, which is good but not all that thrilling because she said inches, not pounds.
So, I’ve moved on to a DVD entitled “Pure Cardio” in which Shaun T. falls on the floor and proclaims “This sh*t is bananas.”
Why the hell are you doing this then? I was fine before you Mr. Shaun T. I was content in my ability to not be able to do push- ups, please and thank you! And so was the rest of America! We were cruising along and drowning ourselves, happily, in chocolate and ice cream and ketchup. And then you come along and promote this extremism called “Insanity!”
*she calms down*
As you can tell, Insanity is rough and makes you kind of angry towards Mr. Shaun T. Maybe its all those damn exercises that involve squats!
Until next week.
Confessions from yesterday…
I fell about five times yesterday…
This was me:
Why be like the rest of them dahhhling?
So plain, colorless, lifeless and borrrrrrrrrrrrrrring- a disgrace to the world, to GOD, Himself.
Why be the stereotype?
What is expected of “your kind” to be?
Why not break the mold into a billion different pieces and do a dance on the pieces after they fall?
Why not paint the world, set it on fire, create your own?
Why, “ordinary,” “average,” “normal,” “cookie- cutter,” and “just like everyone else” are some of the ugliest words that have ever been uttered…
He has my heart.
And I don’t even remember giving it to him… he just took it. Pried it right from my fingers…
Thoughts while watching this girl brush her teeth in the public restroom at the college I attend…
Wait… What’s happening?
Are you serious?
Really. What is happening?!!!
Today was the first day that I’ve ever taken the bus by myself. Ever. I live in a two parent, two car household, so there’s never been a need for me to take public transportation until recently where I have classes in the morning and work in the afternoon and I (sadly) don’t have my own car (yet), so until then… it’s the stankin’ bus.
So besides the fact that I had to take two buses and got off at the wrong stop on the first one and had to walk to the one I was supposed to go to… I discovered something today…
I discovered why men use babies as “chick magnets.”
OK. So here’s how I made my discovery:
There was this guy who walked on the bus with his friend and with a baby stroller. His friend, mind you, had a tattoo that featured the outline of two strippers who appeared to “dropping it low” with halos around their heads. Like that isn’t completely ironic. Anyway, having the knowledge that I do on said babies being said “chick magnets,” I questioned the actuality of a real baby being in the stroller.
Because I was sitting in the front where people with baby strollers or in wheelchairs go, he came and sat down in the empty seat next to me and the stroller was facing my way.
And there was a baby.
And he was cute and tiny and smelled like heaven (a.k.a Johnson & Johnson baby products).
Now, his daddy (I assume this guy was his father) was not my kind of attractive. He wasn’t completely ugly, he just wasn’t my cup of tea. A little too… scraggly for me, but anyways because he was carrying around this adorable angel, I was tempted to speak to him. To ask him the child’s name and how old he was and why the hell he smelled so good?!
And that is soooo not me. I don’t talk to people on the bus. People on the bus are stinky, crazy, weird, too talkative, have no respect for the people around them, loud, and could possibly have a weapon.
My point is that I almost started a conversation with this boy simply because he had a baby.
I understand why babies are “chick magnets” now.
The story of my revelation is over, now.
You may continue with the rest of your day (which I hope was and will be wonderful).
So yesterday I was in the library after English class working on my final argumentative essay that’s due tomorrow, and I was working on the computer and sitting across from these two girls who were talking. Now, I love girl talk. I love to talk about boys, dreams, crazy stuff, and guess what I heard, etc. What girl doesn’t? But I’m not a big gossiper nor am I a big trash talker. Now although I love some girl talk, their conversation really annoyed me. Besides the fact that we were in the library and you’re supposed to shut up in the library, they were really being mean. One of the girls was talking about how college was a place for young people and not the older woman with whom she was having a dispute with. Her friend was telling her “Oh she’s just jealous” because you’re pretty, in college, smart, “handling yours,” have a job, and a daughter. Now mind you this girl is young and in college which means that she had the baby in high school, which is nothing to be proud of, and you all know how I feel about that baby mama drama. And she was continuing to talk about this woman and how her daughter was probably ugly and dumb. Then she started talking about how when she doesn’t like people she calls them a crack head and if she were to call this particular woman that her friend was having a dispute with a crack head, the woman would probably say that she was on meth instead of crack. And then they both started laughing like it was funny. This experience shows me that A) if you’re going to be ignorant, don’t do it in public and B) girls can be really mean when they’re talking among themselves.
All of us girls need a little girl talk… but don’t be mean in your girl talk, even to the people who aren’t there to hear it. Be honest and truthful, but not mean!
Thoughts from yesterday in English class…
Is it just me or has the air conditioner been on since winter?
Thoughts from today while finding out , just a few minutes ago, from my physically incompetent grandfather, that my grandmother who has Alzheimer’s has made her big escape:
Oh. My. God.
Pray that we find her and in she’s not hurt and doesn’t do this again…
I like being different. I love that you will never meet anyone like me again in your entire life. But I hate when people find out how different or interesting I am and ask me questions. I don’t mind one or two, but multiple questions hitting me like ping pong balls, is too much. It blows people’s mind that I’m:
They find out and huhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… here come the questions.
Why don’t you cover you head as often as other Muslims do? Are you a virgin? Why are you a virgin? You’re not going to have sex until you get married? When you get older are going to wait to have sex until you get married? When you get older will you convert to a different religion? How do you pray? Do you believe in heaven? What’s your ethnicity? Do you believe in dinosaurs? So you do or don’t believe in heaven? Do you believe in Jesus? You’ve never eaten meat? Do you wear weave? What do you eat? What you eat for breakfast this morning? What did you eat for lunch yesterday? What did you have for dinner last night? How are you in high school and college at the same time? Wait… so you’re saying ____________? Why are you soooo young and in college? Isn’t it illegal to be in college that young? Are you going to marry a Muslim? Can I go do some research and come back for a part two? So what are you taught? (P.S. We’re not taught to be terrorists. I freak out when I have to frggin’ kill an ant.)
I love people’s curiosity. I love that people find me mind- blowingly interesting. That’s amazing. It makes me feel special. But I am not a science experiment so don’t question me like I am one. Please. I am a girl, a very pretty girl I might add, and I’m just a little different than you are. Besides a few differences, I am like you. I eat, I sleep, I listen too way to much Taylor Swift (that is how you wake up in the morning people), I sing off- key in the car, I paint my nails, I couldn’t live without Pandora, I like girly things, and I am guilty of the duck face sometimes when I take pictures and when I dance. “I’m just like you” *sings in her best Hannah Montana voice* Oh, and I watched Hannah Montana when it first came on! I have these tiny differences that seem to blow people’s mind. I don’t get it.
Please stop with all the questions. I can’t deal with it…
Stop asking homosexuals, black people, Muslims, and people from other countries a billion questions! We are people too and we get flustered! Geesh…
Here are my problems:
I have the main events of the story, I know my characters, and I’ve written the last page of the book already. Now I’m working on the buildup and getting the pages up to the last page that I’ve already written. Overall, it’s hard to write a book…
I don’t get paid to write. So I don’t force myself to sit down for days, weeks, and months allowing the creative juices to flow. I have other things to do. And I mentioned that I have to come up with the events that happen in between the other main events. Buildup is hard. I want to write the epic parts. And trust me, there are epic parts. But I have to buildup to that so the reader can understand why things are happening and there’s background, etc. And then I sort of have a distraction problem.
Being a writer is hard work. But when I finish this book, and its a number one bestseller, and then it’s turned into a movie and Florence + The Machine is singing the theme song, it’ll all be worth it…
Now let me get back to writing…
I’m a firm believer that somehow chocolate is good for your health, at least that’s what I’ll tell myself to feel better when I eat it.
LA FOI. L’ AMOUR. LA BEAUTÉ. L’ AMBITION. LE TRAVAIL. LE SUCCÈS. LA PUISSANCE. LE GLAMOUR.
FAITH. LOVE. BEAUTY. AMBITION. WORK. SUCCESS. POWER. GLAMOUR.
Deciding on a college is hard.
I’ve been accepted into five out of the six colleges that I’ve applied to. Every single one of the schools that I’ve been accepted to have good interior design programs. Two of them are in Chicago, downtown. Another is in Michigan, Georgia, and then New York. I want to leave to go away to college because I feel like I’ll have more opportunity to grow and “find myself” and just be free (without parents breathing down my neck). And the colleges that are out of state are offering more money. And two of the colleges that are out of state have more acclaimed interior design programs and have been recognized as having both number one undergraduate and graduate programs. But I want seasons. I want to be able to wear my gorgeous faux fur coat and my new Guess coat. I don’t like the cold, but I love being able to change my wardrobe from ready for the winters to ready for the rays. In addition, I plan to pursue a fashion career in about a decade or so and I want to be able to go back to the school that I attended for interior design. One of the colleges doesn’t have a fashion major.
And then it’s like… I want to go to New York, but New York has high crime rates, but then again it’s such a fabulous city. You could meet anyone in New York and it could change your life (And I’m watching the Carrie Diaries, and you know how much I love Carrie Bradshaw, and she’s making me fall in love with New York all over again). On the other hand with the college in Georgia, I have family that’s four to six hours hours away which is closer to family than I’d be in New York (I do have a cousin who’s a fashion designer and lives in the city of the school I’ve been accepted to, but he’s sort of stranded from my family), I’ve been told it’s a beautiful campus and in a beautiful city, they have a ginormous fashion show and film festival that designers and celebrities attend, and I’ve just been informed that they do have designer stores down there (now all I have to figure out is how far is the best dry cleaners, find a good beautician, and a Whole Foods). And then yesterday I went to a reception for accepted students and they fed me good falafel and I drank sparkling water and Vitamin Water. Do you know how hard it is to go to events that have good vegetarian options? And I love sparkling water and Vitamin Water. And I got to meet other students and staff members and I found out that they have an equestrian team (and I so love horses) and that majority of their meal plan is geared towards vegetarians and vegans (I’m a vegetarian). Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…. this is hard. Mentally I’m being pulled in multiple directions. Huhhh…. and I still haven’t gotten the envelope from the school in New York telling me how much money their going to offer nor have I visited the campuses that are out of state (even though I plan to). Ugh, God. These young adult decisions, I’ll tell you they’re a pain in the buns. But I know I’m going to make the right decision for me. I’m going to give myself a deadline to make the decision and then I just may post it on this blog.
Tell me about having to make your own tough decisions. And give me advice and tips on how you narrowed down and picked your own college. Let me know in the comments, I’d really appreciate it.
Anna Wintour is the woman, front row, in the middle with the sunglasses.
Did you know that they say that when Anna Wintour, the editor of Vogue, enters a fashion show at Fashion Week, the entire room goes quiet, the crowd parts ways for her like Moses parting the Red Sea, and no one speaks to her and she doesn’t speak to them as she makes her way through the crowd to her always front row seat? I wonder what it’s like. Anna’s dubbed the “queen of fashion.” If you don’t care about anyone’s opinion in fashion, you care about hers. I wonder what it’s like… to be the queen of fashion.
…as a “sapiosexual.”
As I may have mentioned, I’m a student taking a few classes at a community college to get credit for fundamental classes , like general drawing, math, and English, until I head off to a four year college later this year. I may have talked about a few things that I’ve seen, heard, or experienced there, but now I want to talk about the fashion yeses and the fashion no nos that I love and loathe at the college that I attend.
Let’s begin with the fashion yeses. That list is shorter.
Awww… she looks so pretty.
I love some of the lip colors that I see on the girls in college. I love the bold, sexy reds and the loud, girly pinks. LOVE some of the lip color choices.
2. Colorful/ creative book-bags
Hey you get style points in any category people even in academic wear. I love some of the book- bags that I’ve seen. I love the neon colored ones and I’ve seen a couple of cheetahlicious ones too. People are sporting some pretty cool book- bags. It draws your attention to their backpack and you’re like who is that person with that fantabulous book- bag?
3. Hot hair colors
I see all types of hair when I go to school. Colorful hair, weaves (including OK looking, nice looking, beyond fake looking, etc.), beautiful long hair, beautiful short hair, worn by different girls with different ethnic backgrounds and different looks. Some of it is too “out there” for me but I do love seeing people with well done highlights, low-lights, hair colors, etc. especially when they’re worn well and mesh with the person’s complexion, etc. Who doesn’t love seeing fabulous hair?
4. Hot style (clothing) choices
Now I hate seeing fashion mishaps so I love seeing when people really take the time to look their best and put together well put together outfits.
Fashion No Nos:
Awww hell no. No she didn’t…
Today a girl in my art class had rips in her jeans… across her butt. Today she was wearing red and white panties. Do you see what an invasion of privacy that is? I know what color underwear that girl was wearing today. That’s disgusting. Firstly, you may have stretch marks. Secondly, your butt may be ashy. Lastly, and more importantly, who the hell wants to see your butt? Have some dignity, self respect, and respect for others and put your damn panties in pants where I can not take a peek at your butt. I get that you want to show some skin, girls. There are other body parts covered in beautiful skin like your neck, arms, hands, shoulders, even a little leg. But NOT YOUR BUTT!!!! God, who does that?
Have you ever heard of a bonnet? It used to be like a fashion “hat” from back in the day that ties under your chin. Now, they’re used as a night cap that you put on while you sleep so you don’t mess up your hair. Did you read that? It’s something you sleep in, not walk around in. Who doesn’t not look at or comb their hair and then walks out of their house, embarrassingly, in something they’ve worn to bed. Some people sweat when they sleep and foul odors start to make themselves known. You can sweat from your head or hair. Bonnets were not made as a fashion statement people. That’s like the equivalent of a do- rag for a girl. It’s gross and not cute people. Keep your bonnets at home!!!
3. Cheap looking tight/short/see through shirts esp. on my more voluptuousness dolls
EH. MY. GAWD. Please consider this people. It’s not cute to wear these really cheap looking tight, short, and see-through shirts. It’s not cute that when you yawn or stretch I get to have a looksee at your tummy. Especially not for my really curvalicious dolls with a little bit more thickness than even some of us curvy girls. It’s not okay for you to reveal to the world what’s going on under there- skinny or not. Gwen Stefani has fantastic abs and I am not chasing her down for a peak at her flat torso.
Isn’t everyone guilty of having a knock-off bag? I am. I bought a black “Jimmy Choo” (really “Jimmy Who?”) from a man once. I know, I know. I must have been in a bad place then. But I was curious. I went to the dark side. I’ve learned my lesson now okay? It’s fallen apart and some of the pieces are missing. I’m never going to cheat on my favorite designers again with their lesser known ugly step siblings again in life. I’ve seen almost every girl in my school with a knock- off bag. It’s a shame really. Because you tell by the stitching, texture, colors, and overall quality of the bags that it’s really not a real designer handbag. Just stop people OK? You can find great designer deals at Marshall’s and TJ Maxx and around Christmas time at malls that only have designer stores, like the one I went to in Aurora.
5. House shoe looking shoes
I have this thing with these house shoe looking shoes people are wearing out in public. I think they’re some sort of less nicer looking moccasins and I already hate moccasins. I’m 4″11 I really don’t need to be closer to the ground than I already am and moccasins are so flat that they just feel horrible.
6. TOO MUCH CLEAVAGE
Huhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Okay so… I’m a firm beliver that your boobs belng inside your shirt. For all those girls who disagree with me… I don’t know what to tell you. If you’re going to do cleavage please don’t have your chi chis spilling out all over the place and about to hit someone in the eye. It’s too much information. You may have something going on under that shirt, but I do not want to see it. Please. Save them for your man.
7. Leggings as pants
(Don’t those leggings make her butt and thighs look kind of nasty?)
Leggings were not meant to be worn as pants people. I hate that trend. I don’t understand it. They’re meant to be worn under something. To wear leggings and a shirt that doesn’t cover your “woo- hoo” area down there is disgusting. Because you’re walking around and all anyone can see is a V shape going on down there. We don’t need proof that you’re sporting some goods down there. We believe you. We trust that God and genetics has given you all that you need.
8. Ridiculous hair colors (not fashionably used and worn in the right manner)
I hate these ridiculous hair colors. And ridiculous weaves and extensions. Its one thing to wear like a fun wig or dye some parts of your hair for fun, and its another to have a ridiculous hair color for an everyday, regular basis. Don’t get these crazy hair colors like blue and pink unless you can wear it fabulously and have it done right. The only person I’ve seen rock blue hair is Jeannie Mai. She looks good with blue streaks. And Demi Lovato and Chris Benz look good with some pink in their hair. Otherwise, I’ve never seen it done right.
So that’s my fashion rant for the day. Consider what I’m saying people. Fashion is creativity and letting yourself be, but their are codes in fashion, too. Keep it classy and sassy, not trashy. I hope you’ve enjoyed this!
The trials and tribulations of being an inch shorter than 5 feet and vertically challenged:
Hey that boy’s feet touch the floor when he sits down… mine don’t…
You know what I found out in English class yesterday? That there’s a guy walking around campus who thinks that women and girls are like “pieces of cake” and he should be allowed to taste one piece of cake and then another piece of cake and see which one tastes better. Hmmm… I didn’t know that as a female I was, as the definition of cake is: “an item of soft, sweet food made from a mixture of flour, shortening, eggs, sugar, and other ingredients, baked and often decorated.” And according to this idiot, every man has cheated on his girlfriend or wife and that that’s just how things go, as if men and boys have an entitlement to cheat. What? What planet do you live on? And then, when asked if he would mind if a woman had that mentality and wanted to cheat on him by having other pieces of (if women are cake then I guess men are…) man candy – he said he wouldn’t mind. Yeah. Right. Ugggggghhhhhh… I can’t believe people with this mentality even exist… And I am not, mister, a piece of cake!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I think I’d rather walk around bare faced, than to try and cover up all my flaws…
Like the title? Yep. I thought so… =)
So in my life there has been a lot of “baby mama” drama. Not for me personally. Oh hell no… I will never be personally experiencing that, but that’s a whole other subject.
See, recently my cousin who’s around sixteen-years-old had a beautiful baby girl. These other two girls that I know, in relation, both had babies, too. I have a friend who has sisters who two of their friends have babies. I have a sort of “buddy” in my art class who is also a baby mama. And I had a mid term examination today where the topic I had to write about was people’s refusal to get married (an obvious choice from the three topics we were given which included marijuana- which I really know almost nothing about- and “Messiah complexes”), them not believing in marriage, and the effects on our larger society- hence unwed people having sex, then unexpected pregnancies resulting in our abundance of “baby mamas”. So… I’m being surrounded by a lot of baby mama drama. Now, today in art class, the girl in my class who I mentioned above was video chatting with her “baby daddy” and her beautiful three- year- old daughter. She even showed me a video of her daughter dancing around in their bathroom singing a cover of “Dynamite” by Taio Cruz. It was cute. She was cute. When I watched her talking to her mother that was sooooooooooooooooooooooooo cute. But… why should any girl have to be a “baby mama?” As gorgeous as my art class “buddy”‘s three-year-old is, I mean… what’s happened to her dreams? You may be thinking “well she’s going to college isn’t she?,” but I’m trying to get my basic credits out of the way before I go away to four year college or university at community college. This girl is in community college. There’s nothing wrong with community college, but that’s the cheapest option that she has to take because she has a child. Do you know what she told me today? She said that she’d dropped all of her other classes last semester except for art. Now, she’s a fantastic artist, but her dream is to own a restaurant. You can’t do that by dropping all your classes. And she misses classes sometimes. Why? Because she has a gorgeous little girl at home, a baby daddy, family drama, a job to maintain, a house to help maintain etc. She’s got responsibilities and the heaviest of them all… is that child.
Now, I in no way judge “baby mamas.” I do understand that there are some fine, know-the-right-thing-to-say kind of boys. I get that. I
used to think Trey Songz was is fine. Ever heard of Trey Songz? Ever heard a Trey Songz song? Watch “Neighbors Know My Name” (which I should not be listening to but God that man is… gorgeous). He fits that fine, knowing-the-right-things-to-say kind of man. I get that you may be become involved with a man like that look up and BAM!!!- you have a baby. I get that “baby mamas” may have been in the moment and not have been thinking. I know that there is a such thing as accidents- they happen. I get that there are girls who don’t have my mentality (which I will share with you) and who haven’t been raised as I have. But… *sighs* you have to be stronger than even you may expect to be or want to be.
Now let me tell you: I WILL NEVER BE A BABY MAMA!!!! I have too many goals. If I lived in an alternate universe and did become a “baby mama,” I’d either be neglecting the poor child, which is wrong, or I’d be neglecting my dreams, which would make me so sad. Then the world wouldn’t experience me and my amazingness. I’d be depriving both myself and the world. Now you can’t deprive the world can you? And besides that, there isn’t not a boy/man/guy in this world that could convince me to be his “baby mama.” I love myself too damn much. Why be a baby mama, when at the time that I’m ready to have children, I could be a beautiful wife with children. Which one sounds better to you: wife with children or “baby mama?” I thought so…
So I got love for all those “baby mamas” out there, but I am writing this to inform you that I will NEVER EVER join your club. I politely, yet forcefully deny your subliminal request to be and join the “baby mama” crew. Take that “Secret Life of the American Teenager!!!!!!!!”
To all you baby mamas: Never give up on your dreams… no matter what. Never settle for less… you raise your child but keep working towards your dreams… you just take that baby with you.
Thoughts & confessions for today:
Sometimes I really want to believe in magic…
I saw the most inspiring thing today… an older man studying in the library at school. I think he was taking an entry exam, and maybe he doesn’t know how to use a computer, so they allowed him to do it on paper, or maybe he’s taking a part time class… I don’t know. The point is that what I saw was amazing and inspiring and it reminded me to never give up and never stop learning… even in old age.
Recently I had “dinner” (if you count burrito bowls, burritos, and tacos as dinner) with friends. It felt very Sex and the City-ish without the sex… and we weren’t in that particular city. Anyways, except for the fact that we weren’t in a little cafe, there were six of us, there was no “Mr. Big,” and we weren’t in New York, I felt like a Black-Puerto Rican- Native American Carrie Bradshaw.
“Bitch”doesn’t even sound like an attractive person…
Wait for me. Someday we will meet and together, we will rule the world- fashionably and fabulously.
Tell me what beautiful places you have to visit or tell me about the beautiful places you’ve visited in the comments.
I hope we kick your ASS!!!
Some Fabulous Chick
To all my fabulous divas and fashionable fashionistas… you are my absolute inspiration. Stay fabulous…
– M. (a.k.a Some Fabulous Chick)
Thoughts… for life:
Do NOT interrupt while I am watching a Barbara Streisand movie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Point. Blank. Period.
Thoughts for… my future engagement ring:
If “Fanny Brice” can get an engagement ring with a big diamond from “Nicky Arnstein” in the 60’s… then surely I can have one with a diamond just as big (and bigger) and more extravagant, in modern days.
Thought from yesterday while reading Ivanka Trump’s Trump Card:
Wow! I’m being pleasantly surprised! And who knew she liked Oprah?!
Thoughts from yesterday: