I'm a Republican

Dating in the south is something that is SO foriegn to me that I, me, Bloop, Blop, Blip, Blah Blah Blah has no idea what's going on. I truly feel like a 15 year old girl going on her first date out here. And believe me when I say that I am far...and away... and far and away from being 15. This shit is ALL brand new to me.

Now since I moved to the good old Souf...Weeziana...I have met many a man...many...many...(too got damn many) a man...and I can truely say... I. do. not. know. shit. about. men!

Back story is this...

I left my husband 10 years ago and started dating ridiculously. Most people can't comprehend ridiculolus because y'all muthafuckas think in terms of "true love" and "life long", whereas I think of dating as something to do when I am bored...hungry...need something...bored. So when I say ridiculous... I used to "date" 10-15 men at one time...as a sport, a hobby...a past-time...a hustle. It was fun to me. I never proclaimed love. I never proclaimed fidelity. I never claimed a life-long union. Dating was for fun and when it became too emotional, I broke out.

I observed men, studied men, looked at their action, character, their routine, their everything. I became what they needed me to be. I adjusted, acclimated, played the part, to who they wanted or thought they needed in their life.

I coulda, shoulda...

...won an Oscar.

That's the back story.

Current story goes a little something like this...

Men from the Souf are some bullshit.

No one here says what they really mean...and they pass that shit off like it's "southern hospitality", being a "gentleman", not wanting to hurt anyone feelings, being "considerate"....

...so you see...

I'm not the type of chick thats going to totally waste your time. You have an interest, I have an interest. We go on some dates and you for no Got Damn reason have a different perception of what just went on. DUDE, we had dinner, there is no call for you to think about wedding rings, co-habitation, babies and vows. It's food and conversation. That. Is. It.

...but if I say that...then I become the outsider, the anomoly, too much work, to harsh, rough around the edges...

...yet men will complain that they don't know what women want...

...and when a woman very clearly tells you what she wants...

...it's too much for you to handle.

I get it.

No! Really I do.

After all, women always speak of wanting a "good man"...but then that "good man" presents himself and that good man is always going to fall short of what you have created in your fairy-tale world...different from what you are used to. Different from what you truly want.

Most women would be ok with being treated like shit.

Sad too say.

However, so many women are used to bullshit walking up to them and whispering in their ear.

Bullshit will boost their ego. Make them feel good for a moment [because Bullshit knows that it's in the first 5 minutes that count when a woman decides she'll fuck you...or not]...so Bullshit can say just about anything to make you smile and make you feel sexy...for those 5 minutes.

And based off those 5 minutes...you will create a 3 year relationship of drama3x because how he made you feel "at the beginning"...and women being all fucking romantical will take those first 5 minutes and stretch them out until those 5 minutes will damn near come close to the man has slept with your mama and drained your bank account and fathered 5 kids and then shot you in your knee...

SO you see...

I get where one thing can become something totally different based off the ONE persons perception. We can be in this together but at the end of the day...we do not have the same mind. It gets all fucked up.

Mind you, this is totally off topic regarding what I wanted this post to be about...

So to circle around to my TITLE...

I was at this birthday party down here in the Souf, souf Louisiana...dranks where flowing...shit talking was flowing...and good feeling about what "may be" where flowing...and then...

A group of 5 men came up to me...

One who is "my girl's" man

One I may have some fucking thoughts about

One who may be just for a dinner or two

...and other at random dudes who do not interest me with their GOLD teefes, starched jeans with creases in them and cuffed...and pristine white sneakers [a brand I've never heard of] and braids or dew? do? due? rags on...

I stood there drinking my rum and Coke while they debated amongst themselves about the thought of... "what is you mixed wiff"...

...and as the norm goes...

I waited for the standard... Eastcoast Puerto Rican, Dominican. Or Westcoast, Hawaiian, Filipino, Mexican.

[No one ever guesses Native American. Ever.]

One lone voice broke out from the chaos and said, "I know what she is! She's Dominican REPUBLICAN"

Damn the Souf

I Coulda Been Somebody

What’s the movie where the guy says, “I coulda been a contender”?




Sometimes I feel like that.

Then I sit back and think about what the prize would have been had I won. I was never going to be a contender, I was never gonna make anything out of my life. Nothing substantial anyway. Not because I couldn’t, but because I wouldn’t. I’ve never had a passion for anything other than me…and at times…I wasn’t even passionate enough about myself.

Case in point, my current situation; if I was half as in love with myself as I should be…I wouldn’t be where I am now. I feel used. Like an old mattress that starts to dip in the middle. It’s a comfort spot; I’m a comfort spot. Not good for you and probably gives more aches and pains than actual pleasure or rest. I need to be thrown out for my own sake. It, I, ain’t going to move itself...

…which speaks volumes about my own character and self-esteem and good old fashion common sense. It’s not like I don’t have common sense. My character and self-esteem are actual issues though. Things I really do need to work on because trying to lay blame at someone else’s door is foolish when I know where the fault lays. Not all faults mind you but the fault in staying…settling for something that was never meant for me. And to think about it, I never wanted. So, me being caught up in this emotion I have can’t be laid at anyone’s door. Can’t be blamed on another’s actions. I did this. I had choices and options and I went with the option that best presented itself. I knew going into it that there was a probability for risk. I took that risk.

So 13 months into it, I feel like I’ve been down this path before and I’ve heard the stories before and I’ve felt the shame and the degradation of self observance and now, just like then, I know that I have put myself on hold to settle for…well, for bullshit…essentially.

Now just like anyone else, I can try and come up with the why’s and how come’s but it’s rarely needed once you pick up a mirror and realize, what you put out is what you’re going to get back in return. Safe to say, I’ve thrown some bullshit at the universe and she has graciously felt I needed it more than she did. So, I am stuck with bullshit of my own making. Trying to pass it off as if I was the receiver rather than the creator.

I coulda been a contender!

I had a chance to sit back and review some of the “relationships” that I have had in the past. I found a reason to walk away in all of them. My line was never, “it’s me, not you”…it was always “it’s you, not me”. Can’t say that I was one for placing blame at my own door step. Although in all truthfulness, I was always to blame. Well, for the most part.

No Bueno

I've been working on my blog since last night. Woke up this morning and thought about it some more.

I've been blogging since 2004. This past year was the first time I haven't written anything. And I honestly feel like I am loosing my mind. I t was clearly not the right time to stop writing. As I have always said, I write to keep myself sane. it's my outlet and not having that outlet has made me more on edge, less social and a little lost. I know that sounds hard to understand. I haven't really thought it all the way thru but that's all that I can attribute my persnickety behavior on.

With that said. I am going to start writing more. For me. To get it out. "It" being nothing specific just words outta my head and onto my screen...

Teach Me, Eat Me, Beat Me

I set forth a challenge, knowing full well that he wouldn’t reach the goal but also knowing that he would try his damndest to make sure he tried. Wasn’t about the goal…was about the effort…but I can’t tell him that because that would be too close to making sense…and we all know how men and common sense don’t always walk hand-n-hand. Plus this way, he had motivation to persevere…and I get to see what skills and imagination he is working with…

So I say…

"If you think you can, move me…”

He didn’t get it…hell, most don’t get the shit I say. Starting to think if I talk in riddles or maybe I speak the same way that I read and write…dyslexic.

"I don’t get it Bloop, what do you mean?"

"Moooove me muthafucka!…" *I’m good for calling a muthafucka, a muthafucka…when he’s acting like a damn muthafucka*
"Make me want you around…say, do something that moves me…deep inside of me…that makes me want to call out your name when I am alone.”

"Ooooh, I get it now. Hell, you should have said that to begin with!”

"I didn’t know I had to hold your hand at 40 something years old… just saying.”

He gave me a look that let me know I was reaching my threshold of shit talking…

I cussed at him one more time…in my head...for good measure. Good thing this muthafucka can’t read minds. Just sayin’, again.

I find that I am actually too much for myself to handle…no wonder these men aren’t doing a good job at it either. I’m too much…of something…and not enough of a little. But then again, I know when I am being all types of persnickety for the sake of persnicketing. I don’t claim to make sense all the time…or some of the time…but every now and then, oh yeaaahh…I make all kinds of sense.

He got it, even if I had to show him how to add 1 + 1…he eventually got to 2.


…and so it begins…

Hearts & Cars

I came back from the best California trip that I have had in a long time. Not so much that I did a lot or that I saw a lot of people. I did see my father and I did see my boys but I also spent time with a very good friend and got to show him around SF…and although we have travelled from coast to coast and parts in between…a part of my heart was left in SF. *the rest of my hearts are on my FB page*

Speaking of travelling, he bought me a car…well two but we will get to that in a minute. So he buys the car from Philly. At the last minute he decides he wants to fly up there and get the car and make it a roadtrip back to NOLA.
*I kept forgetting to take pictures as we hit every state so I only have a few, boo*
I’m down.
We fly out of NOLA at 75 and sunny. We wake up the next morning in Philly and it’s snowing…what the frick is that about! I haven’t even been gone a full year but act like I have forgotten what snow was. I didn’t dress for snow nor was I mentally prepared for cold, that’s all I am really saying.
We pick up car and hit the road…we end up in Charlotte, NC to rest our heads have some eats and listen to some music…back on the road next morning and we make into Atlanta to get some gas and some eats…as we are pulling back on the road I look over and see this car shiny little sportscar sitting in a car auction lot…we stop. We get out to see it and as we are walking up to it, the owner is pulling into the lot with a trailer on the back. Apparently the owner had purchased the car the night before and he was on his way to hauling it to his own car lot. Mister asks me if I like it, I say yes, and Mister buys it for me. So now here we are in Atlanta with two cars and I am trying to get rid of one. A week later the Passat is sold and we’ve made $1500 more than we bought it for.

Mister’s “hobby”…he flips cars the way that people flip houses. He goes on e.bey and bids on cars, buys them, then sells them for their blue book value rather than the lower amount he paid for. *must be nice having reserve just for a hobby like that, hmmm, whatever...I ain't hatin' 'cause HA, I gotta car beeeches!* I suppose he could do that with going to car auctions like most people but that’s too time consuming…although the auction is a good place to get them because my cars blue book is $4k more than we paid for it. Believe me, he’s been trying to get me to sell my car so that we can get that extra $4k…so far, no. And tho, I’d like a 4-door car, I think I look cuter in my speed-racer.

With the hair issue I have going on, the no ass having, and the saggy chi-chi’s…I think I need at least one shallow attribute, feel me.
I mean I have cute feet and what not 'cause they're all little and stuff...but if they start to look anything like my aunties feet when I get older than I am truely ass out. Shhhh, don't eva tell her (them) I said that...

My hair fell out. It mostly just broke off but some hair actually did fall out and so…it’s thin and short. My hair has always been my “pride” so to speak. Now it’s just…well let’s just say I am not taking anymore pics anytime soon. It will take at least a year for my hair to get good and another half a year for it to be long and luxurious… if it ever does. Maybe it’s stress or maybe it’s just me getting old…or God forbid…maybe it’s some sort of karmatic lesson about pride and humility.

Speaking of God…went to church today and heard the “word”. Apparently, being urban is not just for the streets of New Orleans…it’s for the pulpit also. Whatever women’s day crazy lady speaker they had, she came across a little “damaged”. She actually said “that negro never did anything for you anyway!”… she was trying to emphasize freedom and letting go of whatever you had in your life that had you bound. She had a good lesson…had she stayed focused.
She didn’t.
Which (I think) could have been sort of discouraging for some of her congregation… Just saying, if you have young dredded-baggy-pants-haven’t-shaved-in-a-month-coulda-been-out-robbing-your-house-while-your-preaching young man coming to church…the last thing he needs to hear is another black woman…or person…telling him (and those like him) that he’s no good. I’m pretty sure he is faced with that negative stereotype every day of his life, he need not have to walk into a place of love and "non-judgement" and hear it there too. But what do I know, I barely go into a church much-less pick up my bible and study it word for word.
*don’t get that confused with me not knowing the word…grew up in the church dang near 7 days a week and went to a “Christian” school, married a pastors son and was the daughter of a minister*

This past weekend I went to the Mississippi Crawfish Festival, I am not a crawfish type of chick but I went just because it was something for me to do… the next two weekends will be the Jazz & Heritage festival. I will be in Houston this coming weekend so I won’t make that one…but the following weekend is the one I want to go to…Lauryn Hill will be performing.

I guess I have more things to tell and lord knows I have a gang of pictures...I'll be back

I Think I May Be Grown Up Now

Oh my.
It's been a while, hasn't it?

I can't say that I have alot to write about...well, I do but for all intent and purposes...most of what I have to write is all sort of private and sort of...well, I guess you could say that this time around, I am playing it close to the chest with some of my goings-on.

Ok...so let me start off by saying this...

I feel like I may have done something crazy... You know, something out of character.

Either I turned a wrong corner, fell and bumped my head or...
Whatever. All I know is...
It feels like I kinda grew up...
Sorta. Maybe.
A bit.

You see that living without a job and traveling for the past 3 years sort of had me thinking I could do that for the rest of my life.
Live footloose and fancy free.

I even had visions of me going to some tropical island and finding a old beat down hut to live in while I sold seashells on the side of the road to the tourist. Even thought about wearing a moo-moo like my granny used to wear...all the time.

I was traveling, dating, dining and dancing...flying here and there and literally living from one dollar to the next.
I was living... Yes, to an extent just surviving but all and all...I've got more memories from the past 3 years then some people have in a life time... regardless of struggle or whether I was coasting. I was like a new born baby...or to put it so that it actually means something...I was like a twenty-something year old who had their whole life in front of them and they were young fun and just living for the experience.
That was me...but way past my twenty-somethings.

But then,

I moved down here to the Souf. Met a gang of dudes, fell in and out of love and back in love again, been used and abused, had a pocket full of dolla bills to not having a pot to piss in. I've attended every festival know to Louisiana...with some being "go backs" and others being "stay away froms". Experienced weather I've never seen from 90% humidity to hail the size of baseballs to electrical lightening shows to rain down pours to make my toes curl because of flooding, regardless of how minor it was. I've re-connected and dis-connected with people.
All within 9 months.

But somewhere in there...I turned a corner and lost my way from the spirit of the care-free lifestyle I had.

Basically,
I fucked around and grew up.

Got a "man".
Got a job.
Got a car.
Got a place.
Got some friends.
...and am thinking about home ownership.

I've never wanted to own a home. Those of you who know me...or used to read me know I have a problem with commitment.

Yet, here I am thinking that it might be ok to think about those types of things now. That it's time.

I've always associated owning a home with being locked down. Confining. Commitment and responsibility.
I'm not good with that. Any of that.
Or rather, I wasn't.
Hmmm.

Now don't get this post confused with being for real, for real grown. I still have my moments of total chaos. Or with being uninhibited and without any moral compass.

Oh no no mon ami, I am still that woman. The one most mothers told there sons neva eva to get caught up in.Yeah, I'm still same old Bloopty...

Just with some grown up stuff to go along with it.

I'd liken myself to Ba.rbie but...she's not my complexion and from conception has never needed a got damn thing...yet, she has it all. However, to use her as an analogy... grown up with grown up shit but all and all...I'm just someone to have play with. Not to be taken seriously...nor do I think I want to be taken seriously all of the time.
Everything in life is replaceable...
Even that bitch Ba.rbie.

But for now...
...got me a Ken,
...got me a Ba.rbie sports car (but not pink or convertible)
...got me a Ba.rbie New Orleans shot-gun type of dream home (not quite the dream home...and it's not in Malibu)


Disclaimer: I reserve the right to flip back into old Bloopty mode any damn time I feel like it. One must always remember that Blah Blah Blah is a constant contradiction.

Perspective

I put on some dark colored jeans

I stood in front of the mirror and turned around

I looked at my ass.

Then I put my hand on my ass

Right in the center...

Down a little...

And cupped the crack a little.

Either I have really miniature hands

Or I have the biggest

Widest

Ass.

Sidenote: asked for a specific Christmas gift...and it was given to me. Nola Fit here I come.