'I live in a space inside my head,a cluttered space crammed with random thoughts about life, love and the struggle of being a 27yr old african woman trying to 'find' herself but losing her self in the process.I always vowed when I was growing up that I would do things differently from my mother. As the years have gone by I find myself modelling my life on the woman I thought I wasn't strong enough to become,'(If you ever have the chance to meet my mother even once, to be given the chance to be half the woman my mother is, you will know that you have been truly blessed) Finally I have had to embrace the fact, that I'm nothing but My Mother's Child....

Sunday, February 22, 2009

The Rottweiler ate my Valentine................

So... I have been AWOL for nearly a month now, not that any of you noticed.......... bloody traitors!!!!! You would have thought that by now, all of you would have carried out a fine tooth comb search of all the major mortuaries, intensive care units and ER departments........ Not that you would have found me, but you might have caught a glimpse of my 'supposed to have been' Valentine with half of his muscular, toned, sexy thigh ripped out, and a drip hanging out of his incredibly sexy 'kiss me again and again' absolutely sinful lips.

That's because the idiot had the bad sense to choose to get his leg mauled by a Rottweiler on Valentines absolutely selfish and inconsiderate, One would have thought a true gentleman would have wined and dined her royal highness Miss DM, presented her with a box heaving with carats from Tiffany's then escorted her home in the Lamborghini and only there after would a true gentleman have chosen to give a hungry Rottweiler a mouthful of thigh to feast on. You wouldn't blame me for thinking the idiot did that on purpose, some men will do anything to get out of showing a lady some much deserved romance and affection, even if it means forcing open the mouth of some poor Rottweiler and manually clamping its resistant fangs round a meaty thigh.

Men are soooooo capable of such underhand dealing. I remember this hot shot doctor at my sister's hospital, promised to wine her and dine her at some fancy upmarket restaurant on a non occasion(this was the point she should have been suspicious, men don't even do occasions) The dude pulls out all stops, orders celebratory champagne even though there was nothing to celebrate, and just as the £235 bill gets slapped on the table, dude takes a spoonful of dessert, starts choking, eyes rolling, his whole life flashing before his very eyes, had to be taken to hospital in some ambulance, but not before the mean waiter made my sister pay the bill by visa, some people have no compassion, you would think in light of the medical emergency, the stupid restaurant would have let the celebratory champagne, oysters and caviar slide on the house, but no they had to have a payment, apparently dude had a peanut allergy and didn't know the dessert contained nuts (that's despite the clear warning on the menu next to the ice cream which read 'may contain nut traces'), I can bet a million dollars (I'm yet to win on the Lotto) that the selfish so and so did that on purpose, probably decided he would rather take his chances with his maker than fork out £235 on a dinner without the remote possibility of getting 'some' later that night........ Okay maybe that wasn't on purpose but you do get my drift.

So I spent the remainder of Valentines Day alone at home, after spending the entire afternoon at the Trauma Unit (don't know who was more traumatised the Rottweiler or my idiotic Valentine. I asked the ward nurse if when he had come in,he had a tiny blue box in his possession, but she looked at me with a blank stare, which made me realise that not only had I been over ambitious in my gift expectations but that the poor b*tch had never heard of Tiffany's and its limitless extortionately priced possibilities....apparently neither had my so called Valentine....he had the additional bad taste of buying me a card post Valentines asking me 'to be his valentine', a card????!!!!!!!! Had i known I would not have trekked to the hospital in sub zero temperatures to see his ass.what did he mean by 'be my valentine'? The fact that I was expecting something more weighty and pricey from Tiffany's should have already clued him to the fact that i was already regarding myself as his valentine. Cards are for funerals, or funerals or multi funerals, for everything else there is MasterCard, or Visa or American Express. I ain't no gold digger but surely anything which costs less than a Starbucks latte does not constitute a gift....which is why next year I will have a Valentines Registry like they do for weddings...As for my supposed Valentine, I wish the Rottweiler had not ripped out his muscular, toned and incredibly sexy thigh but swallowed his card buying self WHOLE!!!!!!!!!!!

Sunday, February 01, 2009

Free Noodles, Skinny B*tches & Money Induced Orgasms

I nearly had a multiple orgasm whilst standing in line to get free noodles and rice crackers at the newly opened Shimla Pink (Chinese restaurant) just down my street. No i wasn't having sex with some random stranger in the queue jus to pass the time, it was because I Miss Definitely Maybe saw my very first Bugatti Veyron in the flesh, I mean on the road kind of in the flesh and not in some swanky showroom, car show or front pages of Motoring Today. I swear my knees buckled, my stomach did funny little flips and i felt waves of pleasure, that was my first money induced orgasm there and then.

I have never been aggressive when it comes to man hunting, but i nearly whipped off my panties, pushed up my boobs and swore under my breath 'n*gga if you so much as look my way I'm soooooooo gonna do you tonight'......and I was him..... like my life depended on it. I haven't been laid in a loooong time and what better way to bring my sexy back than at the back seat of an £800 000 motor f*cking a man who is probably worth 100 times the cost of the said motor. I mean I ain't no gold digga (if my dating record is anything to go by) in fact I love my broke brothers but hey 1998 Honda Accord versus 2007 Bugatti Veyron that's definitely a no brain-er, never mind that said owner of both Bugatti and restaurant was a 40 something, probably midlife crisis undergoing, pot belled dude(he looked like he was hiding more noodles under his sweater than they were giving free at the counter)......I was still going to do him.

So there i was standing in queue, revising my game plan, no longer salivating at the prospect of free noodles and prawn crackers but the chance to tattoo my bottom on those heated leather seats, having hot steamy sex against some classical music background (rich people listen to such nonsense right???), when some skinny bitch appears out of nowhere. Don't get me wrong I have nothing but respect for them skinny bitches, I mean anyone who can live on a diet of Evian water, lettuce leaves and oxygen deserves nothing but respect. I used to think my game was tight, I mean I'm a healthy UK size 10/12 (emphasis on healthy) who has tried all fad diets under the sun to become a slightly skeletal more defined cheekbones and slightly protruding ribcage size 8 and failed miserably so you can understand what i mean when I say i have nothing but respect for those size zero skinny bitches.

Anyway so said skinny bitch walks right up to the door spends 3 or 6 minutes chit chatting with pot belled dude, about the restaurant/free noodles (as if she has ever in her 30 or so years passed a calorie of carbohydrates between those size zero lips of hers), then said skinny bitch brazenly asks to see the motor and before you could say 'hot steamy sex with size zero skinny bitch' pot belled dude was giving his stack of promotional leaflets and instructions to lock up to a probably Honda 1997 driving minion and leading said skinny bitch to the front passenger heated leather seats, and zooming off into the sunset with classical music probably playing in the background. Okay it was 2pm on a cold and frosty afternoon so that sunset was probably a figment of my imagination but damn those skinny bitches sure got game, and she didn't have to whip off her panties, suck in her stomach or push up her boobs, that's why I have nothing but respect for those size zero, Evian water drinking, lettuce nibbling, oxygen sucking skinny bitches.