Tips for Nude People

Nude people, yes, you with your fingers in the wrong place posing for a picture. You, who think your boyfriend is taking a nude picture of you for fun. Yes, I am talking to you if Kim Kardashian inspires you. Listen here!
You are not the download site’s 100,000,000,000,000th visitor, or the winner of the suspicious $10,000 on that random pop-up site. And OK, maybe your parents are stuck in Northern Haiti and they are depending on you to rescue them but it sounds purely doubt-able that they would have the resources to use the internet and send you the email….in Northern Haiti.
Everyday there is a new cyber-breach caused by bots on your computer or hackers in the cloud or some hideous thing.
Fortunately, the only thing that differentiates me from you, nude people, is my cynicism for trust in mankind, totally useless. So if you are not me, I will ask you to:

1. Go against expectations and make your password, “password”. Hackers will be trying to find a more complicated password, and it will be right under their noses! Those fools.

2. Ever notice how all security breach stories involve Apple Macs, and Windows phones. One word!Payphone!

3. “Clean” your devices after every use by tossing it in soppy water! Good luck on that one!

4. Keep your nudes in a folder named “Notes” or “The History of Wanking”. Sorry I mean, “The History of Banking”.

5. If looking at nudes in public, cup your fingers around the edges of the screen to stop anyone from phishing but most importantly to stop any minute scraps of data from escaping through the side-loops of your phone screen. That is how you make sure!

@JohnMazerolle…I feel you!

I broke my bong at the Station

Friends, if you haven’t gone through this, then it is indeterminable whether you have lived your life to the fullest. Re-evaluate your goals. And to help you friend, a bong is larger-than-life designer pipe usually made of glass that is built to enhance the inhalation of mound substances.

Anyway, on this beautiful winter evening (lie!), I found myself at St. George station’ an inter-sectional train station in Toronto that connects the green line to the yellow line; with a two-level platform, you are able to board trains that will take you to different directions of the city. On that gruesome day, I had managed to get myself in the best company ever known to man. Numbing depressants and a never-ending flow of alcohol can’t describe it enough. I was accorded a beautiful, tall-as-a-giraffe, larger-than-life bong that could disable a 200-lb club bouncer. I have never been happier in life.

So the odds had me stumbling into the train steaming like a burnt, worn-out train. I walked in there like I had paid more fare than everybody else. I pulled the blue seats (seats designated for disabled persons) and sat my bong on my lap like a new-born baby. In my oblivion, I forgot how much responsibility I was carrying, literally. When my stop came up, I got to my feet as quickly as an army cadet; with my balance at risk, I swung my arms to hold onto a near pole for support; that’s when my bong flew and splashed to pieces on the floor of the train.

It brings me to tears just re-telling my story. At that very instant, the doors opened and two train inspectors walked in. We exchanged strange looks as we observed the amount of destruction that had just occurred. With a tear residue in the corner of my eye, I forced a brown-teeth smile, said hello and waltzed off the train. No loss has ever been that heavily loaded unto my chest, no other loss.

Until next time.

Chronicles of a Side Chick (I don’t know…)

“I have to go.”

The most morbid words to my ears. The stealthiness irks my soul and every virtue I stand for. I know you’re not mine. I know you won’t leave her for me. And I know we don’t have a future. I also know there is no way you will accept us: me and the baby growing inside me as we speak.

“Wait, just a few minutes…”

I need you to hold me longer, to kiss me and tell me everything will be alright. My love for you is unbeknownst to even me. I also have to find a way to break it to you. Softly. I just don’t know how you’re going to deal with it. I didn’t know my life would come to this. To me, this is adulthood, the worst version of them. Entailed with bad decisions, regretful nights, wistful mornings and consistent tears. I don’t know how I haven’t lost it yet. Or have I already?

My friends said I needed to move on and find someone that puts me first. They said I deserved better. They were right. I just didn’t know how to live without you, how to take everyday like you didn’t exist. That was an impossibility. Still is.

“I really have to go. I have to pick her up and I am already late …”

It’s when you use her as an excuse to leave me; when you put her before me so vividly, so unapologetically; that you make me feel so worthless.

“I am pregnant!”

I almost shouted. The expression on your face changed, your agape lips, your dumbfoundedness, and the veins forming in your forehead – priceless.

“What?”

I don’t know how you’re going to tell her. I don’t know if you’re going to tell her. I don’t know what will happen to us. I don’t know what’s going to happen from here on.

I promised myself I wouldn’t listen to your abortion mantra. I will have this baby, with or without you. Maybe this baby will be my reminder of the love I could never let go of, the days I will never forget, YOU! Maybe my baby will better direct my focus, make better decisions and put myself first. And we, my baby and I, shall take on the world together.

With or Without You!

“And I am keeping it.”

Happy Holidays!

Happy Holidays. Read about my current state of matters this season. And if you resonate, click LIKE

So right until last year, I was told it is offensive to say “Merry Christmas”. Because, apparently not everyone celebrates Christmas and for some Christmas doesn’t hold a special place in their hearts. Somehow these issues will have to stipple my holiday cheer! Equity is a bitch!

But for the most part, I intend to maintain the highest level of cheer ever for this specific season. For the first time this Christmas, I am single and not searching. Yes Ladies, I love being alone. It is beautiful, this feeling of independence and love for solitude. I have never farted so carelessly in my life. Honestly. I surprisingly wear more make-up, just because I want to. And I do look pretty. This comes as a surprise to me because if I had a partner, make-up would be time-consuming and unnecessary, seeing as it would be smudged and removed in no time! (wink)

But yeah, I am ecstatic with the progress I have made on my own, the discoveries I have made and most importantly how much more I love, treasure and appreciate myself. And also how impatient I am with bullshit, negativity and haters. I know where I draw the line. I love me more so I have enough to give this festive season. I know me better so I am bolder and maybe more stubborn but what the hell….

So this Christmas, I will raise my bottle of scotch, wave it at you, with no intention of sharing and wish you a Merry Merry Christmas full of cheer and love.

Yes, I said Merry Christmas!!

This whole time…

 

I was in a long-term relationship with a man who was known to be articulate and physically firm with his hands. He kept accolades from his arm-wrestling and kick-boxing realm from his high school days. Of course unbeknownst to me, all my attention had been projected to his thick arms and broad chest, the dream of every sexually active female. And his grip, oh his grip….

Anyway, here I was facing his wall decor full of silver-and-gold-coated bands, not to mention the framed awards that placed him as “The Strongest Bones” and “The Last Man Standing”. In all honesty, my initial response was “RUN!” but this man had held me in his arms and lined my neck with his, so perfectly that I had once pictured my death hovering over me in that position. How peaceful!

In the depth of my vulnerability, I would never imagine him angry or disoriented. It was without question that if a fly landed on his arm, he would swoosh it gently back into the wild to peacefully struggle for it’s own living. But then again, no flies ever played around in his presence. For the love of my life, I never wondered why. Well, now it all makes sense.

For legal reasons, let’s call him “G”. G always said that he had never been put in that situation, you know the situation where he had to use his prized hands. Which raised the question: How in control was he when other emotions like rage and hormones like hyper-testosterone phased in? There was only one way to find out.

I am a true believer that a man cannot truly appreciate your presence in his life unless something about his life changes for the better. For example, my ex-ex-boyfriend never did or knew how to do laundry. He would shop high labels, wear them out and donate them to the homeless shelter down the street. My reign changed that, for once in his lifetime he experienced the smell of freshened, folded, warm clothes, his clothes. His credit card expenditure hit a high-time low….get it, a high-time low! And even today, he still calls me to tell me how much he misses me!

So I took it upon myself to turn Jeff’s life around. (Jeff is complaining that “G” sounds so feminine….so Jeff it is.) I took it upon myself to bring Jeff to the brink. I did everything to make him angry, challenge him at every chance I could, dare his arms to move. But Jeff never cracked, right until I gave up. I resorted to living in fear for my face, hoping and praying that he was not the sort of person who would raise his hands to hurt or harm any living thing. My faith and love in him skyrocketed for the longest time, I had finally found my own temperament. A man who can control himself, the dream of every emotionally-invested female.

Imagine the shock of my life when I walk in on Jeff jerking off to anime porn. ANIME PORN!!

Porn is a hard pill to swallow as it is, but ANIME PORN…. Good Lord! He claimed it helped him recollect his thoughts and release his emotional weights as in contrast to punching a bag or even worse, hurting someone given his physical arm strength. No doubt that was a good comeback but…….ANIME PORN??????

Jeff  is history now! I was hoping the past tense in which this out-pour was written would have signaled that but I had to put that in writing too. And this should go as a warning bell to every shallow, mentally weak, big-for-nothing mongrel out there. We shall not stand by and let you objectify such a spiritual act like sex to liken graphical drawings with small eyes and yellow hair. You shall be fired!

Don’t get to the point where flies avoid you. Don’t get caught! Don’t be like Jeff……manya G.

I am Back Bi*#$s

I admit! I have really been quiet. No excuse, no reason! It’s just that I have really been busy. So busy, I simply forgot what makes me truly happy. Writing. Or should I say, having you read what I write.

I believe the last time I opened an article like that was in April Madness. Too original.

At the beginning of this year, I took a straw of entrepreneurship and sipped. Nothing would have prepared me for the most unstable phase of my life. Starting a business, is by far the scariest thing ever, after abortion of course. All that decision making, sigh… So it took me a while to sit back down and type my heart out. But what can I say, Lady Boss got things to do!

As I speak, a few negative reviews and even harsher feedback from needy, bitter clients have slapped me the wrong way, I am scarred. I will wipe the last tear at this comprehension of failure, but I promise to revisit my shot at diction. And you dear reader shall be there to read every word, right!

I AM BACK BI*#$S!

April Madness

I admit! I have really been quiet. No excuse, no reason! It’s just that I have really been busy. So busy, I simply forgot what makes me truly happy. Writing. Or should I say, having you read what I write.

As you were!!

2015 has been a subtle year! I failed my new year’s resolution in the second week of the year. That’s when I knew it wasn’t happening. *Chuckles* Like I needed any other sign. Failure can be a lonely place to call home. The following months didn’t spare me the eye bags. Winter was rude and I think I have a mild shade of memory loss. For example, I just forgot what I was going to say. Totally. For real.

In April, I had the amazing chance of going for an interview at my dream company.  I can’t describe the excitement and utter glory I felt. Like I had achieved everything I had ever aspired to even before I could have a look at the salary chart, let alone be hired. I turned to my wardrobe for hope. Hope that I would impress on spot without blubbering a sigh. And a sigh is what I could afford when I pressed the elevator button and there the mirror was, displaying me and my alternative for legs in the shortest skirt possible, you could see my name and address. No lie! I still went for that interview, hoping that they would realize my shamelessness and take it for resilience. So much for positivism. They better call me back.

Now, I am thinking, my new year’s resolution should have been to buy a mirror. Such a no brainier. But then again, I am sure I would fail to do that too.