I'd like to buy a vowel.

I realize its been a month since I've written but alas here I am. I will admit I stopped momentarily because of some negative feedback from a few douchers but I got over it and here I am. Much like my family has dealt with me, I cant allow some morons to make me stop doing what I enjoy. Anyhoot, I want to discuss the ever important topic of getting a hint.

I think its quite sad that a girl cant go out for a drink these days without being hit on by some sort of creature. Man, woman or human has yet to be determined. I ventured out recently to simply enjoy my Coors Light, because really after a few days without mama gets cranky. I wear my best baggy jeans, tank top, flip flops, muffin top and a hoodie that says "Drink Up Bitches". Clearly I'm looking to land Mr.Right. I'm also sporting my Coach version of my Alan satchel and my hair is in a messy birds nest. Straight sexy. I go to my Cheer's watering hole order my beer and sit back. The bar is pretty much empty and I prefer it that way. Being a weeknight and all I assume I'm safe from all male attacks. I look through the paper as any girl would in a bar and sit like a man with my legs half open to let the balls breathe.

I chit chat and bullshit with the other two patrons in the bar and amid my comments involving the words Cock, Fucker and Giants, I seem to have made a fan. This one dude, who is dressed to disco all night, decides it is wise to try and flirt with me. As if my belching and complete disregard for anything he said wasn't a turn off enough, he decides to now move his location to one directly next to me. Awesome. Just what I wanted to be bothered by someone I have no interest in speaking to on a sober basis.

This gentleperson, as I will call him, assuming I'm Italian asks me all sorts of questions about my cooking skills. Can I make pasta? No. Can I make sausage? No. Can I make sauce? No. Can I care less about this conversation and really need a shot? Yes. I decide to end the suffering by telling him I'm Puerto Rican, which I have learned can be quite the disappointment in my neighborhood. Hoping to receive the response of "Oh wow really? (Insert sad face)" I was received with a "Mmm my weakness". I immediately think, Fuck. Now I have to move on the bigger guns. He then says "You look Italian though". So of course my response is "I'm the whitest Spanish man you will ever meet in your life". Zing. Boom....Or so I thought.

Before he leaves, and moments before I was ready to take my drink in a to go cup, he asks for my number. Which of course I wanted to respond with, I only communicate through homing pigeons, I responded with a "I'm seeing someone I can't". Now let me ask, if a girl who you want to speak to doesn't a-make eye contact...b-ignores you...c-belches like a man...d-talks about how she loves home depot and most importantly e-dressed like she didn't give a fuck, why oh why would you still think its open game?? Aside from yelling Hi I'm a possible Coors Light dependant and I can't talk because my blood stream needs to absorb this wonderfulness to bring me back to a tolerable stage, what else could I have done to make myself less appealing??

I would think all the hints I so clearly threw out there would have been picked up on but no. If I don't smile its not because I'm mad, its because faking a smile takes way too much effort on my part and the only thing my lips want to do is make out with my beer bottle. I'm not upset or cranky from anything that occurred earlier in the night, its because you my gentleperson, are annoying me and I can't find an appropriate exit. If I'm dressed like I don't care its because I don't. If I tell you I like to do manly things and act like a construction worker it's because I'm trying to disgust you. If I follow up a belch with a "Ohhh yeah good one" instead of a "Opps excuse me", I'm clearly trying to make myself as unattractive as humanly possible. If all of this does not register into a "Wow shes gross" then I can't help you sir. And if you are still wanting to ask for my number then you need professional help or a prostitute.

Sometimes girls just want to go out and enjoy a drink without having to do our hair or put on make-up. Sometimes we just want to sit back and relax and talk with friends. Newsflash, it isn't always about meeting a guy or hooking up. Sometimes mama had a bad day and needs a lil Coors Light loving without you eye fucking me every five minutes.

Moral of my story, get a hint bro. Buy a vowel, pass go and find the nearest exit. Do whatever you need to do to let it register that No I don't want a shot, No I don't care to see you with your shirt off, No I don't need to you to buy my beer. If I have ignored 90% of anything to come out of your mouth, done everything but scratch my balls, then understand that I am not interested. Unless your family owns a beer distributing company or your family business involves Vodka, have a goodnight and move on.

Ahh well now that I have let that out, I will bid you adieu. Buenos Noches Bitches.

This is my Nightmare.

For the 5 of you who actually read my blogs, I apologize for the lapse in writing. Rest assured, the sweats and night tremors will stop now that you are reading this. (Or just begin, depending on what you take away from my blogs) So I want to re-cap an evening I experienced recently where I went out to an unnamed establishment (totally not bay ridge...cough cough) where I realized how much of an old lady I really am.

I walked in like any other evening anticipating my Coors Light fix. The place was packed and being that my focus was on the delicious beer I couldn't wait to taste, I didn't notice the clientele surrounding me. I get my beer, take a refreshing gulp, release an "ahhhhh yeah", wipe my chin (like any lady would) and look around. That's when I saw it. Fetus upon fetus all over the place. Everyone I looked at seemed younger than the one before. I think one guy even had remnants of his umbilical cord still attached. I was curious to see if he had an outie or an innie but I digress.

The girls were disastrous. Tiny little whores all over the place. Some girls were so overly tanned it made my Irish friend look exotic. It was like Umpa lumpas on ecstasy. I had never seen so many children in one place outside of a day school. The music was blasting and kids were fist pumping and jumping around with so much intensity that their baby teeth were flying all over the place. It was becoming dangerous. I wondered if they had just started putting Similac on tap because this many mistakes in one night was alarming.

I couldn't hear myself think let alone talk to my friend about an escape route. I don't know if it was shock or curiosity that kept me there but I couldn't take my eyes off the whole scene. I positioned myself safely in the corner for fear of the temper tantrums that would erupt simultaneously once they realized the kitchen stopped serving animal crackers after 2. I wondered when I had entered crazy town but I was anxious to hop on the next train out of there.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse that's when it happened. The DJ starting playing Jump Around by House of Pain and after removing her pacifier one fetus said to another, "Omg this is the song I was telling you about that just came out, its amazing." My mouth dropped open from shock. I felt a wave of age hitting me. My wrinkles never felt so alive as they did at that moment. I could feel the gray hair setting in. I had to get out of there and fast. Before the phrase "Damn kids these days" could escape from my lips I grabbed my Irish companion and bolted. As I ran out I could hear the baby teeth crushing under my feet. The smell of baby powder and Balmex was so intoxicating I almost didn't make it to the door.

Once outside I took in a deep breath and let out a huge sigh of relief. Somehow the babies could sense my fear and a few came outside and busted out their candy cigarettes. When I realized they posed no threat I calmed down. I dusted off the baby powder residue, wiped away the drops of Similac on my arm and made my way to a bar where adults hung out. My grey hair turned back to black, my wrinkles receded and my sanity came back. I am not an old biddy by any means but when you think an iconic song from the 90s is a new release my osteoporosis suddenly kicks in. I'm grateful I got out when I did, if not I would have shriveled up into dust.

Moral of my story.....fetuses scare me. They are powerful beings when they converge into groups. Surrounding yourself with them will case extreme aging and depletion of brain cells. To my fellow 25 and over peeps, watch your back. They come out when you least expect it and they will turn what should have been a booze fix into a run for your youth.

Needless to say I have since enrolled in therapy. The nightmares have subsided but I can only pray that my experience with these newborns is a one time deal. Good luck and be safe, its dangerous out there.

National Give Out a Mirror Day

True story. I'm out with my best friend and we see what can only be described as a new unidentified mammal species of some sort. This creature/mutant was pushing a stroller wearing chocolate brown leggings, to the point that her ass was eating them, a tight leopard print top ( I believe- Jen correct me here if I'm wrong) and some other atrocity on top of it. I have to ask, do people just refuse to own or even look in a mirror before leaving their house? I mean really people, when your ass is literally taking a bite out of your pants there is a problem there. Especially when you are a size 14 and your clothes were bought in baby Gap.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for girls of all sizes wearing cute things but please for the sake of my eyes and my stomach wear the correct size!! Just because you have skinner legs than the 300 pounds of gut resting on top of it does not mean you can wear pants that are a size 2 and a top that is so tight the stitching's are screaming to keep it together. Sadly this is an all too common sight.

If your buttons are the only thing between you wearing a shirt or starting a strip show please rethink it. Its called double sided tape fyi. I understand that we all want to wear a small, or not have to be judged when we are in the fitting room and have to yell out, "Hey can you please get me the pants in the hefty section" Trust me, I get it. I just don't understand why some girls think yes I will wear leggings and a top so small it could belong to my barbie. I want my ass crack to look like its a piranha just chomping at my pants. Yes, the bigger the muffin top the better and lets not forget about the massive camel toe. Sexxayyy. Not.

Muffin tops are NOT an accessory. It's not sexy or appealing. Being a muffin top owner myself I fully understand how hard it can be to keep that baby under wraps but I manage. Go the next size up, and if it bothers you that much cut out the label. Would I love to wear skinny jeans and a cut off top, hell yeaz, do you see me doing it, hell nahhzz. Reason being, I own a mirror. I am fully aware of all the meat I gotta control before I walk out the house. Let me tell you, it aint easy. Sometimes I gotta bust out aerobic moves just to get my pants zipped, nah mean kid?? Word.

Dress for the body you have not the one you want. Plain and simple. If you don't care about how you look can you at least have some concern for the people who have to look at you? I mean without warning it can really turn a good lunch into a splatter on the street. Clearly that is just a waste of what once was a good meal. Do I then have the right to charge you for not only my lunch but for the eye surgery I will need to get that burnt image out? I think not. Straight inconsiderate.

If your worried that guys will judge you because your wearing "big girl" clothes think again. When a guy is getting down to the bizz-nass he could care less what size your pants are. Just as long as they end up on the floor. If it's already gotten to the point where you are getting some, I'm sure he has a good idea of what he is working with. Big or small. But when he has to bust out the jaws of life to just get your painted on pants out of your ass, its not worth the poke anymore. Instant penile death. On a side note also, just because your boobs grow with you doesn't not mean you have big boobs. You have fat boobs. Totally different. So wearing a corset because you listened to the salesgirl who lied and said "Yes the small will shrink your waist and hide your stomach and make your boobs look great" just makes you look like a fatty stuffed into a way too tiny corset with her fat ass titties flopping all around. Here's a thought, buy it in your size. Wow what a revelation! You will look so much better and probably be able to breathe.

I wear what fits because I try to keep the rolls and jiggle at a minimum and I would greatly appreciate for all of you who don't, please start.

In the words of Shanaynay.."You look toe up from da flo up make me wanna cha-row up""

Thank You.

Russian Roulette

:: Take a breathe, take it deep ::
:: "Calm yourself" He says to me ::
:: If you play, you play for keeps ::
:: Take the gun and count to three ::
:: I'm sweating now, moving slow ::
:: No time to think, my turn to go::

:: As my life flashes before my eyes ::
:: I'm wondering will I ever see another sunrise? ::
:: So many won't get the chance to say goodbye ::
:: But it's too late to think of the value of my life ::

- Rihanna Russian Roulette

I love this song because it expresses so much without saying much. It reminds of when your in that place where everything is crashing down around you and there is no silver lining. When you can't imagine how to move on or how you got there. Your totally fucked and there is not a damn thing you can do about it. You feel like your life is over. Somehow you have to slam through whatever weighs down on you and find some release. At that point though you just don't care anymore. That's a place I'm all too familiar with.

I've been told that I'm cold, secretive and untrustworthy. Maybe I am, but shutting down is not a means of weakness its a means of self preservation. If my heart is cold then I can't be burnt by warmth. Not sharing aspects of your life isn't being secretive, it's being protective. As far as untrustworthy, that depends on who you ask I guess.

I've been told, "I feel like I don't even know who you are". That's probably because you never really knew who I was from the beginning. Always in the shadows, seen but not recognized. When someone is down, when they are struggling and going through hard times, you don't beat them. You either make it better or do nothing. Constant berating just makes it impossible to see that there is something better ahead. The reason I keep things to myself is for two main reasons, 1-I don't want the pity and 2-I don't want to be judged or scolded. If this makes me cold and unrecognizable then so be it. I'll wear that badge proudly.

I wont say I have it all figured out and I will admit I've made mistakes but at the end of the day I'm a human being. No better and no worse than any of you. Things could always be worse, I could lose at Russian Roulette.

its all Guava baby

Robert Miles, Children. Need I say more. If you don't know what I'm talking about google it. For those of you who do know, this was the 1st song I fell in love with. I became obsessed with the electronic beats. Thus began my love of house music. Somewhere deep inside me is a little guidette fist pumping away. Probably Snooki size. I love house music more than most people know. Next to watching Matlock, its my favorite thing to do. (Confusing image isn't it? lol)


There are other things about myself that most people don't know. Not creepy dark secrets but little normal things. For instance, I keep a leash in my car in the event I see a lost dog I can bring him or her home. (Yeah I'm nice like that) I can only clean while listening to Spanish music. I know how to Salsa and scrub the toilet at the same time while making rice. (okay its microwaveable rice but nonetheless its still rice) Talent. BOOM!.


I always make the sign of the cross when passing a Church, cemetery,ambulances, firetrucks and police cars. When I stop short I stretch my arm across my passenger in the event they are pushed forward. I realize I come across tough and hard, but under that exterior is just a girl. More normal and day to day than people tend to think. I wear makeup, love shoes, have tons of accessories and bags. There is something about the comfort of sweats though that always seems to win when the getting dressed decision is occurring.



I'm a nerd at heart. I read everyday and love finding new books. I keep every book I get, I can never go to the library because once I fall in love with it I re-read it all the time. I still have the 1st book I fell in love with and I read it at least once a year. I cry at any sad move involving animals. I was quite a site during Eight Below and Hachi. I will only watch these movies alone because I will not be ridiculed when I am already in deep emotional distress. Whenever that commercial comes on for the ASPCA with Sarah Mclauchlan's song I immediately change the channel. Too hardcore for me. I have an image to uphold here people.





I am a fierce protector for the people I love. Try and harm my loved ones and your done bro. I may not win but I'll fight to the best ability I have, whether that means verbally attacking you or running you over in my car. Just saying. Loyalty is precious to me. Not many people have it anymore, which is sad, but I hold it dear. Anyone who really knows me totally understands this. For people to who don't or haven't taken the time to look past what I may seem like, your loss.



I love warmth and closeness even though I generally keep people at arms length. I am bruised but not broken. I've had my share of heartaches and losses and I'm sure more are to come but I look forward to whatever happiness and goodness will come as well. Things happen for a reason and I don't think we are meant to deal with anything we can't handle. I don't mean to get all Yoda on your ass but you know what I'm talking about.



Let me close with the real important stuff. My favorite candy is Snickers, I love blue ice-pops, Malta is the shit, red is my favorite color and I love sculptures of elephants. So if you happen to ever come across these items hit a lady up.



Till next time my little monsters...Yeah thats right, she stole it from ME!

Just call me Helen

An oldie but a goodie...

Written a few years back after a not so good "break-up". I read it and now find it quite amusing, lets see what you think. (not that I really care but since your reading this why not pretend like your important right?....I'm so nice)

Men need to learn to choose their words wisely. If they don't it could haunt them forever. Like as in your first born being a girl. That's the Lords way of saying Ha, take that sucker! They think they can talk to you however they want without repercussion as if they run the show. Sometimes their words can hurt, sting and burn. Other times it can make butterflies flutter around in my stomach. Sometimes it can even make me sick to my stomach. To the men in my life who use words without thought, without concern or any brain cells for that matter, I have one response. One simple well thought and planned...Go Fuck Yourself.

I don't care how casual a relationship is there is one line that never gets crossed. Respect. Telling me to go call one of my other boys or telling me some bullshit excuse as to why you stood me up or even the lame ass "It's only you" line, yeah that's a total violation of my respect. (Hello run-on sentence..I digress, back to man hating)

Do you honestly think I believe it when you tell me that you had to work late? Do you think that in a neighborhood where news travels faster than Superman on steroids that I don't know that you were out with someone else? Do you think I really believe your cell phone died? Please bro. I'm convinced there is some secret group that wrangles you all up as small boys and trains you to think that we actually believe your lying bullshit. It probably even teaches you the crap to say. At the very least please be original. Fake a sickness or lie about a fictitious relative dying. Something bro, c'mon keep a girl on her toes. If we are doomed to play this game at least make it interesting. Hearing the same bullshit lines over and over can really drain a girl.

Even the things you say while dating are lame. "I respect you too much to do that"..."I got forced into going out with the boys, it's my co-workers last day"..."I did call, your phone must not be working"..."I don't get service where I was"..."I love you"....Blasphemy!!! My all time favorite is when they post things on Facebook or MySpace like we suddenly lost the ability to read. Amazing. I'm sorry sir but unless my name is Helen Keller I'm fully aware of whats going on in your posts and/or comments (that you make public might I add) and what pictures you are tagged in. I see the visit to Grandma's somehow took a drastic turn when you ended up at the Jersey Shore fist pumping away. She must be one feisty old brawd. If you want to be a player, then be one, but please don't think that because you apparently have a limited use of your brain that I do as well. Not only can I read (omg shocker!!) but I can hear and see too. Whoa did I just shatter everything you thought was real?? So here's hoping that you come up with a better game for the next one. I'm calling quits. I win, you lose.

Well now that I feel all warm and cozy inside from this touching tale of love I will bid you adieu.

Reflections of a Bitch

Last night, in a bored daze, I decided to look through some of my old journals and see what I was thinking back in the days. Apparently it was pretty much the same shit I think now. There are a a few things that are heartbroken and heart-open related (yeah I just made that up).

I want to share something I wrote back in 2006.

You stand before God and your family preaching honest love and life. Your halo shines so bright, your wings so glorious it almost hides your horns. As you spit your hypocrisies I see you. I see the devil is disguise, a true bitch in her real form. A faker, a phony, an unhappy and disheartened being. Had I only been so wise as to discover your trickery long ago I could have avoided your negative Karma. Your evil rays pour down on me, your eyes so filled with envy I can only feel sorry for you. To be true to oneself is closest to God that you can be. To live in a mirage is torture. You think because you go to Church and pretend to live well that you have everyone fooled. Remember that God sees all. A selected few down here can see beyond your glow to the inferno that burns within.

You always claimed to be just like me, but you could never be anything like me. I am who I am good and bad. I don't conform and I don't back down. I bleed for what I believe in and I live for me. I glow because I radiate realness. I don't claim to be an angel or spend my Sundays at church when every Saturday is spent laying under some fool. I'm a sinner in the truest of forms. God knows my sins, he sees my pain and sees my strength. He knows I'm true to myself and that Jezebel you could never be. What you do to others in life will reflect upon you. I suffer now to live better later, you will suffer later for your wickedness. Good luck and may God be with you, because you will need it.

I wrote this after the ending of a friendship. Someone who claimed to be my "sister" and "best friend" ended up turning on me like I was a total stranger. Moral of the story is you can be heartbroken not only by a man but by friends too. I think the pain of that can be worse.

I believe that there is no such thing as a soul mate. There is no one person made completely to match me. I believe that you fall in love once. I'm talking head over heels hardcore in love. After that you can love someone else but it will never be the same. This person you love and marry will be a great match but you will have things that are lacking. I believe that's where your friends come in. I have been lucky enough in life to be blessed with three sisters. You know who you are. They are my other half of the equation. So ladies please don't put all your stock into your man and leave your friends because when he isn't enough, and he never will be, what will you be left with?

Ladies, value your friends. Don't betray and hold on to your loyalties. For those of us who have already been hurt, keep moving forward. Your real friends never leave, never hurt and always pick up the pieces. That girl I was friends with that betrayed me I have one more thing to say to her... Thank you. Thanks for the friendship we had and thanks for opening my eyes when you did. I don't think I could be who I am now without you showing me that even the nicest people can be true scumbags.

Well that's all for now folks....