The Second Letter

Dearest Mama Deb,

Today, is Friday the 8th…I didn’t sleep last night because I was to anxious to see you. I woke up and some how managed to get dressed and run out of the house. You greet me with those blinking brown eyes and a thumbs up. I told myself that your room 431 was a no crying zone. So far, I have accomplished my goal of holding it together for you. You look exhausted, but still as beautiful as ever. It is strange to see you this way, strange that the roles of our lives have now changed…but I have you, I have your hands to hold and your lessons to learn. I can’t wait to learn more, to love more and soak in more of you. I can’t wait to share more life and be more fulfilled in doing so. We have time…and I won’t waste it, I won’t refuse an opportunity to kiss you or hold your hand…I want to soak in as much as I can…

Today, I am not mad…today is the day that I make these terrible telephone calls to loved ones…today we all, change our journey with you.

Cheers Mom, To Our New Chapter,



The First Letter

I contemplated starting an entire new blog…hell, I’ve contemplated running away and starting an entire new life…waking up from this horrific dream and living the life I love.

This Blog is now changing…from a crazy life of a single girl to that of the life of a young daughter dealing with the Stage 4 Colon Cancer that will slowly take away her mother…her rock…her partner in crime as well as in business and anything else


Dear Ma.

Today is April 7, 2016 and we argued today…I was sitting in Larkellen (our business we own together) and we were bickering about how it was time for you to go hospital…I think back on how that simple conversation of me being a “bossy bully bitch” that you said in not the kindest tone has turned into this crazy spiral that now is our new normal. I won’t forget the terror on your face when I arrived at the hospital in my restaurant clothing, I won’t forget the look on your face when you told me there was a mass…I won’t forget the smells that emanated from the room, the way we quickly rid you of your diamond earrings that you haven’t taken off in years, I can’t forget the look on Dads face when they were rolling you away…how it seemed so unreal that you were having emergency surgery. We thought you had the flu…the tiny argument of me overstepping my bounds and being mean as you hung up on me seemed so silly.

I remember holding your clothing in a bag and your purse as the Dr. Jewel, your surgeon was informing you of your operation…everything seemed so normal, until he held your hand and said, “I already know, you have Stage 4 Colon Cancer, I will know more when I open you up”. I tried my hardest to not cry…I tried my hardest to keep the face of your strong daughter and I tried my hardest to not look at Dad…and then they rolled you away…and for once in my life…I was truly terrified. I prayed silently while Dad and I ate hospital pizza…4 hours later…4 fucking hours later of worry and fear Dr. Jewel walked into the waiting room and said “she did great, she really did, considering the condition she came in”…his tone seamed to change and he sat down next to Dad…he watched his words and looked us in the eye…all I remember was the diagnosis of Stage 4 Colon Cancer…Liver is covered and a less than 2 years…he stood up, gave us Gods love and walked away with his head down. I have never in my entire life seen my father cry, but he grabbed me while I wailed for you…not for me but for you and this life you have so beautifully created…I don’t know how long Dad held me…I don’t know if he made any noise while tears fell from his face to my black shirt…I don’t know if anyone else could hear me in distress…I don’t know anything but that moment…my heart broke in a way it has never broken before.

It’s amazing the strength you have…It is amazing how when we walked in to see you after waiting another hour that all you were talking about was how everyone loves your Eva Longoria Lashes…you had everyone cracking up because somehow a dirty bird comes out when you’ve had a hospital cocktail. I didn’t want to leave you that night, but you insisted on us getting some rest…

Dad and I hugged, shocked on what had transpired in the last 10 hours…I didn’t know what to do, instead of going home…I pulled into Scott’s (we’ve been broken up for a moment but have remained probably too close) driveway and pounded on the door…he opens it, sleepy and confused…he sees my face and latches me up and lets me wail in his arms…he doesn’t know what is going on and doesn’t ask until I’ve cried for an hour or so…I inform him and he stands still…looking up at the ceiling and hands over his head…that was the first person I hit with the news of our new life…that was one of the hardest as well, considering 3 days ago we all were enjoying family dinner. You and he have this bond that can’t be broken and the look on his face said so much.

I asked for a shot of vodka, he gave me a cup…I cried more…he talked his normal rational self and I left…I felt like weight wasn’t all on me…I felt the support of someone…I felt like I needed a nap and that this day would be long over. It wasn’t. I sat down and wrote this jumbled mess of a letter…because I don’t want to forget.

I love you, sweet dreams, see you tomorrow..



The Dream

I am throwing this out there…I am getting engaged this year…yes, so very true…he might not know it yet but I am. Heck, I don’t even know who “he” is but, I am going to sucker that sucker into taking my hand in marriage even if I have to drop down on my knee myself (not weird, been on my knees before for a man (a lot of classy woman have (don’t judge))).

Yes, I am still giving up men for Lent….and yes, I am still going strong but a damn girl can dream. In the past year, I have opened a damn business (fabulous) and currently launching another, as well as, helping my cousin launch hers in the Pacific Palisades…I mean…hello, on a piece of paper I am one damn good catch…getting a male to figure that out and realize I AM PERFECT (kidding) is another damn story.

Regardless, these 40 days will have me brainstorming on how to meet a man, and not on the interweb of hell but in a real life situation. I am counting out hipster coffee shops because I don’t want to be with someone who wears tighter pants than I…I am also cutting out strip clubs, good reasons (plus my boobs are amazing anyways). I honestly think that I might start perusing all the sporting good stores because I have decided that I want a MAN MAN….literally, boots and jeans, dirty hands and a face full of awesomeness growing from it (a beard)…this is also strange for me considering I usually go for big, black and athletic but I have since changed my mind due to the fact that those men nor the peter pans (men that never want to grow up) have worked out in my favor…and I had a taste of a hard workin’, boot wearin’, dirty handed man and I WANT MORE!!!! I can’t lie either, my vagina lips just quivered at the thought.

So, I am going to take my giant afro and dress wearing self to Cabelas this weekend and meet my husband and let him wait the rest of lent to take me out (the making him want you more act)…I have never tried this before, heck I’ve only made it to day 13 (bearded fellow just set a record) but I feel like if I don’t try I am going to live the rest of my life as the lady that would be a cat lady but can’t because she is allergic to cats (smelly cat song is playing in my head and I just chuckled).

But really, don’t you think that this sounds like a marvelous idea. Not that I know what I am doing when trying to converse with the opposite sex. I fumble my words and basically sound very illiterate. I am one of those girls that has the perma bitch resting face and then when I get nervous, I decided that speaking is way to hard and I would rather not embarrass myself. I feel like men should do all this hard work, because apparently I can’t.

I actually don’t even know how one gets around the early stages of getting to know someone…I either freak out or freak out. Those weird feelings creep up and then I act like a small child and say the most idiotic things, “you are really bald, normally I date black men, black cock down”. None of those statements a man ever wants to hear from a 5’2 blonde bitch. My bark however is way bigger than my damn bite but when I do bite…you are warned. Sometimes I wish I would just be one of those seductress woman, and have men leap at me…that has never happened. I am still trying to figure out how to be sexy (it is an artform that I do not have). One would think that if I read enough romance novels I would learn…I have and I haven’t learned shit.

Maybe I should join the bachelor or something…even better I am going to flaunt my singleness all over social media and see what happens.

How does this sound : 5’2 curvy female with a big curly white girl fro who enjoys nice bottles of wine and medium rare steak…I own businesses and am financially independent…I am bossy, strong willed and determined but when I am off the clock I really just want a man to come home to and love me….I do not want to wear the pants at home.  I don’t want to seek those seeking a hook up or casual fling..I am done…I want a life partner to share our worlds with, to come home at night and laugh as we make dinner. I want a man in my bed every night so I can decide if I want to make my way with him or just be held. The idea of a white picket fence is still my ideal dream however, I plan on equal partnerships in life and love. The modern yet traditional family.

Maybe this is all so obscure and maybe it is being unrealistic but who gives a damn shit…I am getting engaged this year!

The Lent Promise

That’s it. I am done!

I have vowed myself off of men for 40 days and 40 nights…no dating, no flirting intentionally, no kissing, no sex, no buying a round because he bought me a round, no reach out text message, no nada…zip…zero…diddly squat…this girl is over it!

I, yet again had a chance encounter this past January (January must be my damn month with men) with a very lovely bearded emotionally unavailable fellow…okay, so maybe he might be emotionally available and he might have realized that girl with giant pink hair that is extremely outspoken and independent is not his type…I am coming to realize I might not be anyones damn type but I am sick and tired of not having people take risks. TAKE RISKS PEOPLE!

Anyways, back to my whirlwind relationship…I fell hard…as in I started to feel actual human feelings that have been buried way down in my deep dark soul for years now.  I mean, this man was a MAN…a real MAN…not one of those bait and switch men, he was a true man. Door opening, date paying, good morning messaging and late night talking man (yeah yeah, I am kicking myself too). I honestly don’t know what happened, it when from, “I don’t know you and I want to spend all my time with you”, to friendzone.

Literally, with the snap of his fingers, one day to the next…I was friendzoned…added bonus he told me I was amazing and my ambition and drive is unmatched…so you don’t want to surround yourself with a woman that is just trying to make a name for herself? Doesn’t make any sense to me. Adult dating is the shits man…I would rather have the shits for the rest of my life than to be friendzoned before anything ever started.

I wonder if the compliment of how great I am has to go before the statement of being “zoned”…what the hell happened to honesty, last I checked I am wearing my giant big girl panties and can deal with the truth…and to be honest homie (we are friends now remember) I have lived my entire 27 years without your gorgeous bearded blue eyed self and I am sure I can survive the rest of my life without feeling those juicy lips on mine, or your warm manly hands holding my face…I think I can find another man that drives a big truck, listens to country and is just as awesome as you…but he will be more awesome cause will take a damn risk with a girl that makes him feel.

Adult dating is the most frustrating thing…we are all damn jaded, someone has screwed with someones emotions and in turn that said human does the same thing that happened to them. What happened to the no pressure of dating, of getting to know someone by actually taking them out…the love letters and missing someone. Can we please bring 1950s back and learn how to fucking date (i would really like a Vintage kitchen too).

Anyways, I’ve been strong…its been a week of no useless men that just kill my time cause I am bored. I also have the coolest reminder that I am Men Sober, I put a damn 3d Skull on my ring finger and that shall remain there forEVER (okay maybe not forever but just until I feel that males have pulled their heads out their arses (forever)).

Men sober, the new sober experience…look at this primate, in her wild state…wild curly platinum locks…her hunt is over…just her and her long skinny fingers taking down all battery operated boyfriends and bringing them into her old love shack…howling at night has a new meaning.

One Woman, One World…Men Sober, a new trend.

The Sober Sex

Wine ✔️
Delicious Cake ✔️
Girl Friend ✔️
Adult Sleep Over ✔
Sex Talk ✔️✔️

Last other night was special, really special…my friend and I learned that we are down right dirty little woman…and by that I mean hoochie mamas…I thought being promiscuous was only for your late teens and early twenties not mid twenties, I was wrong.

Here we are, two single, attractive, career orientated women in not so attractive pajamas stuffing our faces with moist chocolate cake as we watch some odd movie that had some graphic sex…we noticed they only have boring missionary. We converse on their sex position and then wham, at the same time we say loudly, “I don’t know the last time I had sober sex.” We literally abrupt in laughter, I don’t know if it was because we had the same train of thought or if it was the elephant in the room of our skank hood. Either way, we cheers’d our glasses and began the intense back log of sexual relations…which that began the hilarious log of men; sweaty fart guy, drunk Dave, blood diamond, 6’10, navy man, annoying bartender, Lenard, that old guy, never sober exs and lesbian sex (which she told me didn’t count, I beg to differ). We went back years, we both couldn’t remember, any sexual relations in which we were completely sober…I calculated mine to the ex with the one eye which was over two years and even towards the end of that hellish relationship I was drunk anytime we had sex.

Now, before you think I’m a raging drunk who just gets after it, that’s far from the case…I just happen to enjoy wine and it makes me kinda frisky plus tipsy sex is the best, and I only might be saying that because it’s been years since sober sex. Either way, least I’m still getting some?!

I’m on a mission now, no sex unless in a relationship and let’s try to be sober…I’ll keep you posted on how that works (I’ll try my hardest but no promises).

Who knew that many women lead promiscuous lives even when they have these fabulous careers. It’s insane to me what I thought was promiscuous in my early twenties to now, shit I was tame back then. I’ve somehow turned into a hoochie mama with no care in the world (I’m not an idiot, protection ALWAYS)…it’s true, the older I get, the more sexual I become and I honestly didn’t think that was possible.

Hmmm…2015, the year of sober sex, maybe, maybe more sober sex with someone amazing…. 🙂


The Welcome Back

…and on a chilly December day she came back, better and bitchier than ever.

The ramblings of me.

Here I am, still single , and still wondering why the crazies find me. With the months of me being blog free nothing has changed much, literally, ex boyfriends still show up at my house (new ex flings do too (I must have missed the memo because this is a weekly thing)), I’m still trying to figure out how to lasso in dapper man and I’m still chugging wine at the end of each evening.

So I’ve dated…whoop whoop, I beg and cry to my besties that all I want is a attractive, funny, blah blah blah man to swoop me off my clumsy feet and pull my curvy body into his bodacious one…is that so much for me to fucking ask for? Instead, I’ve met every damn stage five clinger on this side of the Mississippi (I’m so west coast that I’m basically in the Pacific Ocean). For some reason, I can attract men, handsome ones but they all latch onto me after a few days of simple conversing. They are life suckers trying to feed off my happiness and I can’t escape them. The really weird thing too, they think I’m sweet…still trying to piece that together.

I’m beginning to think that there is a website with my photograph and some sort of crazy tagline that get all these men to swoon after me…or give me crazy pickup lines.

Pickup Lines:
* You’re face is pretty but your hair is ugly
* You’re beautiful but my mother would laugh when she saw you
* You’re surprisingly attractive
* Does the carpet match the drapes
* You have long finger nails, I’d love them on my back

The list goes on and on…most men seem to insult me by trying to crack a joke at my naturally curly Afro….they tend to fail and end up chasing me outside of a restaurant (yes, shit you not). Good thing, I have thick skin and good friends that hold me back from making a snide remark or punching them in the throat…which, I’m certain one day will happen but there is only so many times a girl can hear, “I would love to pull just the pink side of your hair…mmmmm”, as I can feel their warm cigarette breath hitting my lower neck, literally…that happens more often than not…I’ve discovered that I’m not exotic looking nor plan, I wouldn’t consider myself edgy or vintage but something about my porcelain skin, curvy body and wild hair seems to make men lose all common sense and they tend to word vomit. Which, is strange to me…if I was Eva Mendes then you can word vomit but not with me (no, I’m not saying I’m self conscious, just saying I’m nothing like Halle Berry, the closest celebrity I resemble is Martha Stewart and not in looks but with all my home decor and love for baking).

So in the mean time I’m over here shoving my hot Chai Spice Loaf in my mouth ranting how I’m burning my tongue because I couldn’t wait to see if the new recipe was good and the loaf literally just came from the oven. Any day now Mr. Not So Perfect But Perfect For Me can waltz his happy ass into my life and take me home to watch lifetime movies and drink wine…I’ll be waiting patiently (kinda).


I’m back bitches and I have so much more to say, you’re warned!!!

The “in over my head”

Have you ever felt the feeling of drowning, but not because your fat head is submerged under water. I’m talking about the feeling of drowning from life.

You wake up everyday with a new objective and everyday that objective turns into 14 more objectives and you can’t even finish one.

Lately, my life is the crazy ball of joy but that joy is also killing me. Not in a bad way, I keep getting closer to the ending but I keep adding more and more to my damn plate.

My cup had runeth over, I’m over joyed with not one but two new business adventures that I couldn’t be more proud of and thrilled about. I keep adding more food and not eating any…the plate is staked so high with goodies that I can’t seem to stop.

The last two months of this insanity I call life have been crazy and good…but not crazy good. I had an amazing human as a boyfriend but he wasn’t my damn human…I finally get one man to like me and just my damn luck, I don’t like him (that’s a whole other post that shall be up shortly). After the ending of that I threw myself into these businesses that I will be opening one month apart from each other. Call me crazy, yes…but I just couldn’t turn it down.

For the love of anything holy, a girl can only redecorate her 500 square foot home so many damn times before some one sent her to the nut house (and I’m pretty sure my friends were close to it).

Speaking of which, due to my dire need to open two boutiques at one time while continuing to work the job that pays my bills at night…I haven’t been the best of friend. I also had this crazy relationship that didn’t help on my friend love level. You get to the point that your so wrapped up in what you have going on that you don’t even notice you’ve totally secluded yourself from EVERYONE. I want to share my joy with my friends but currently, they have disappeared…due to me disappearing first.

This is the point that I’ve noticed…I’m way in over my damn head. I also found out, I’m not very good at balancing and I’m also not very good at doing 1 million things at one time.

With all that is going on, I haven’t found time to relax and have time alone to read a book or blog and I certainly haven’t had to to gossip with my girlfriends about boys (and girls for some).

So at which point does one stop?

I think we all get our moments of complete insanity of doing everything that we forget to take the time to just be.

Before I was so wrapped up in finding a human to date me, when I ended that I threw myself into work. Don’t get me wrong I still want a damn man in my bed at night to share the joys of life but I get so focused on one thing and that one things outcome I completely forget about the other aspects of life…such as eating…I haven’t had a full meal where you sit down and enjoy in well over a week…that’s just plan silly seeing as I love food.

Anyways, not really sure what my message to the world is, or why I jumbled all my words down on this blog…and I’m sorry it’s not humorous like normal…but I think I needed a glimpse of just being without the worry of what is piling up in my email inbox or the messages on my telephone…I also missed the blog world. But I’m back…

Also, you’re going to die about the story of my ex boyfriend that I had for 3 weeks…like a high school relationship but I’m 26.

The “Phase”

I love me some chocolate.

No no, let me rephrase that.


I can’t help myself, everyone thought it was a “phase” well the “phase” has being going on well past the “phase stage”.

There is just something about a tall black man that gets my vagina quivering. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know when I decided I was attracted to milk/dark chocolate more so than white chocolate but I am. I have a radar, if a sexy ass black man is within 100 yards of me, you bet your damn ass my lady bits are fucking pulsating.

Plus, it doesn’t help that black men seem to like all my business I got going on. I swear. It’s like this draw to each other, I could be with my bff who is just as curvy as I and she’ll notice a handsome man oogling my goodies. I always thought she was yanking my chain cause she is a dime but she wasn’t. I never understood it. I wonder if a put off an aura about me.

I’ve tried to explain my attraction to everyone, because my small city of ass fucks doesn’t seem to understand.

I like the contrast of our skin
I want beautiful babies
I love the way I’m touched
Chocolate tastes better than Vanilla
I love soul music, and Motown
They love my curly hair
I’m thick and they know how to handle me
They have giant cocks

Literally, I’ve said it all and all it comes down to is I went black, and I never want to go back…haha no but in reality, I’m attracted to what I’m attracted too and I can’t justify it or explain it.

Dear Handsome Chocolate Men,

I’m right here…waiting for you!

Curvy White Girl


The Long Underwear

Sorry I’ve been missing from the blog seen…life gets off track and the next thing you know, you haven’t blogged for a month, you’re somehow tied down and you’re wearing thermal pants and shirt in the middle of a heat storm in May.

Back track some, I don’t know how all this insane shit always happens to me but it always happens to me.

It’s May, and hot…I somehow end up dating someone (don’t you dare ask and don’t you dare judge). I am a very free human, and by that I mean I’m naked as much as a fucking can be and I just let it all breathe. Anyways, I don’t want to be naked or seen naked with my new dude, one would call it shy I would call it putting on my own chastity belt.

We have a night of insane drinking, I laugh and enjoy my time. He’s a rad human and when it time for bed, I freak. I had no plans for this human to see my lady bits (or tits for that matter). He hops into my bed and I just stare at him like a deer in headlights…my mind is racing…

What do I wear to bed?
What wouldn’t turn him on?
I always sleep with panties and a tee and now I can’t…wtf…
Why me?!

It dawned on me as he’s fluffing my fucking pillows, I have the perfect outfit…I basically run to my hall closet and pull out my winter basket and throw on my pink long johns…mind you, my old home has only tiny swamp coolers that barely cool a room and for some reason my town is going through some global warming…it was going to be the longest night of my life.

The look on this mans face was priceless…I wish I had a photograph of his expression as I crawled my happy ass into bed…he didn’t even question my attire verbally but I knew what he was thinking.

Needless to say it was the longest and hottest night of my existence…I shit you not, I only slept for maybe an hour and I lost have my body weight due to me sweating in places I didn’t even know had sweat glands. I finally toss and turn so damn much that he wakes and I’m sure my matted sweat hair and sweaty thermals was a sight to see…not even taking away from my normally swollen face.

Can you fucking believe it that this guy actually wanted to date me after that!

(HOLY HELL (nothing to due with this blog): I live on a busy street that people tend to run on…every morning I sit with my coffee and this guy walks slowly until he comes into my line of sight and then runs as fast as he can and takes off his shirt until he can no longer see me…he then abruptly stops and throws his shirt on and sits…he’s being doing this everyday…he should just come and talk to me….that just happened, again).

Proceeding on…I’m still continuing to wear my new form of chastity belt…I’m also continuing to sweat balls at night time…nothing worse than waking up with swamp ass.


By the end of summertime I better be super model skinny for all the night sweating I’m doing.

I didn’t know it would be so difficult to not get laid…usually I’m trying to just get laid.

Oh, I’m back to blog world…I miss sharing the insanity that is my life.

The Good Luck Chuck

That’s me but in the female form. It hit me today, as I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and saw my ex ex ex (I don’t know what number of ex he was) boyfriend from 5 years ago is engaged to the “rebound” girl…apparently, she was wife material and I’m not.

Check this shit, ALL of my mother fucking ex boyfriends (I’ve had a few) are:

A) Still dating the “rebound” girl
B) Engaged to the “rebound” girl
C) Married to the “rebound” girl

Do you see a pattern? I need better “rebound” men!

Do you even need to know what my list looks like?

A) I’m everyone of my ex’s last fucking girlfriend
B) They aren’t my last fucking boyfriend
C) I’m still fucking single because I have yet to learn how to be a nice human

So here I am, drinking a glass of red wine and going over it all in my head. Am I really Good Luck Marie, is this my reality?

Now my next mission is to find the real “Good Luck Chuck” so that maybe he can teach me how to not tell a man whose taking you on a lavish date, “you look like the type that sleeps with ugly people” (I wish I could say that I made that up, but it’s my reality). Why the hell can’t I ever learn to go with my third fucking thought.

You know when your mother told you, “if you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all”. My mother still has to inform me of that and guess what, I still don’t fucking listen.

I also am realizing that I might have had one too many glasses of wine because I have used the word fuck way too many times. Not only is the little tiny voice in my head screaming about all those damn wifed up ex’s of mine but also for my sailor cursing habit.

If you’re wondering, I did press like on his engagement. I am happy for him and would have never married him but really…another one bites the dust.

I wanna bite the fucking dust too….

Chuck, where the hell are you?

All I know now is whenever I meet my damn husband I’m going to bitch slap the hell out of him for taking his damn sweet time. I could have used his ass for all these weddings I’ve been attending for the last 5 years alone.

I better get a pink refrigerator too.