Pinnochio's of the world: Suck a big fat one.

Honesty. Integrity. Trustworthiness. Unshaken commitment to values. It sounds so easy and makes absolute sense but for some, these characteristics are so far out of their reach it’s utterly, pathetically, disappointing.

At the core of each one of us, there are things inside of you that give you the potential to be a good person if you are wise enough to tap into it. Someone that people intentionally surround himself or herself with. Someone whom you could entrust your life and the life of those you love and care for. Someone you don’t have to doubt or second guess for one minute.

I have learned all too often though personal experience how rare a gift finding an individual of this caliber truly is. In this fucked up place we call society that breeds deception, selfishness, and betrayal in the same vein as eating, sleeping, shitting, and breathing, falling victim to any of these acts of unkindness is an all too common thing.

It’s sad how those who commit such acts pathetically try to justify their behavior with bullshit cop outs, flips of the script, and blaming everything and everyone besides ones OWN SELF for acting a fool. For fucks sake, at least take responsibility for your own behavior if you can consciously make the decision to go against your better judgment.

The ironic thing about all of this is that the aforementioned offenders are typically hypocritical when it comes to being the deceptee and not the deceptor. You can bet that all hell breaks loose if you ever treat them with the same disrespect that they’ve shown you. Yep, that’s the way these fucktards minds work.

Their motto is “Do unto others as you would not have others do unto you.”

What is the outcome? Well, let’s see. Relationships fucking crumble under the mind numbing recycling of bullshit and apologies and the skull fuck internal dialog such as “how do I know when this person is being honest/good/integrous” after one or multiple previous offenses.

The curse is on the person on the RECEIVING end of this selfish bullshit. They are the ones who choose to be the bigger person, to forgive, give another the benefit of the doubt, and work towards rebuilding trust and faith that somewhere deep in the crevices of that persons tainted heart, therein lies a good person. And then you proceed to subject yourself to the yo-yo effect of good-bad-good-bad, just when you thought things were good, this persons corrupted soul gives you the finger and you suffer the consequences of being the optimist, the person who believes in the good in people, the person who takes risk on love and all things good about it because you thought you saw something in someone that may very well not even exist.

I don’t care what anyone says. A lie is a lie is a lie. Big or small, short or tall, scandalous or innocent, it’s all the fucking same to me. It’s about principal, about building up and earning something so precious and rare that people should be risking their very existence to uphold it. You can have it for years but if you screw up once, you’re back at square one. It is THAT fleeting. You don’t just earn it once and have the right to keep it forever. You have to continue to demonstrate that you are exactly the person you project and claim to be. You’re not just a sugar coating salesman who is trying to convince others to buy into the idea that you’re worthy of their time, their love, their attention. You are a real, genuine, person who can offer what 99.99% of the general population cannot.

The true test is when you are the person you say you are, doing and acting in the way you say you will when NO ONE is looking. Who gives a shit about the academy award winning performance you give when you have an audience. It’s all about what goes down backstage when the camera stops rolling and all that remains are you, your conscience, and your ability to effortlessly do the right thing.

In my book, that’s more valuable than gold, platinum, and all things under the sun. You give me this, all day, every day, and you’re giving me the world. Anything else you can offer is just icing on the cake.

But, if all you have going for you is icing, then I don’t fucking want any.

If any of the people in my life think they are entitled to have their cake and eat it too, then I sure as hell am fully qualified and entitled to my piece.

FCUK finger lickin' good profits!

Let me preface this post by saying that I am not a vegetarian. I support what PETA stands for but at the same time I can see how they may once in a while get a little carried away with their activist efforts. You can’t criticize them for their passion, though, especially when you learn the ugly truth about inhumane practices of fast feeders such as KFC in the name of quick profits.

Watch the attached video to see how these future 12 piece buckets lived prior to their fate on your plate. They say sex sells so I give Pam Anderson a thumbs up for using her sexlebrity status to bring attention to the sad reality of cheap chicken.

I don’t eat KFC in the first place since I see their food as grease sponges full of artery clogging, muffin-top and cellulite inducing qualities that are not on my wish list. Yech. Did you know that just ONE piece of extra crispy chicken breast has a whopping 440 calories and 27 grams of fat?? It’s JUST chicken for clucks sake! It’s no wonder the U.S. of A. is the fat nation of the world.

Colonel Sanders cares nothing about your health or the humane treatment of the very thing that allows his existence. All he cares about is the health and well-being of his deep pockets. You know that, yes?

Anyway, if that doesn’t deter you, hopefully some of the disheartening images on the video will. Sure, I know some of you are thinking “Who cares? They’re just stupid chickens, and they’re going to die anyway.” You don’t have to be an animal lover like me, but if you have even an inkling of sympathy pulsing in your aorta, you can’t deny that these sorts of practices are not right, and those who do them should be called out on their shenanigans.

This is why I’ll pay the extra buck or two to purchase free-range, grain-fed, non-antibiotic laden, organic/natural chicken any day of the week.

Creepy crawlies and heebie jeebies

Yesterday on my ascent from the subterranean parking garage up to my office, in my usual hurried fashion, I was taken aback when I noticed a ginormous beige praying mantis on the wall of the narrow hallway I travel through to get to the courtyard entrance of the building. I paused for a while, trying to decipher how I would move swiftly pass the huge dead palm leaf plant so generously placed there by one of the buildings tenants, as though there was a sign in the hallway that read “There is a trash dumpster downstairs, but who cares? Just leave all your abandoned shit here.”

 

The scenario: Large, scary mantis on the left wall. Big, dead palm plant directly across from it with it’s dead, crispy leaves treacherously reaching out towards the opposite wall. This left very little space for me to scurry on by without disturbing the mantis and risk it jumping on me while I scream bloody murder.

 

The options: Go back downstairs and take the long way around the front of the center and up the stairs and walk in the office a few minutes late or tip toe ever so slowly past the little beast so as not to disturb or anger it and get to the office just in time.

 

With a worried expression plastered on my face, I tread ever so slowly past the vicious little monster, my skin crawling at the thought that those large praying claws might be on my skin. I breathed a sigh of relief as I reached the door, glanced over my shoulder and saw that I left the mantis undisturbed.

 

I went through this torture two more times that day – once during lunch and the last on my way home. During lunch, I couldn’t get over how huge this thing was. I decided it would be a brilliant idea to snap a photo of it for this blog. So that readers out there know these are real world stories that I don’t just conjure up randomly in my head. I pulled my Blackberry out of my purse, ever so slowly and put my camera on. My zoom function was all wonky and there was no way in hell I was going to go close to the thing, so I took a picture from far away that resulted in a small splotch of beige on a purple wall. Oh well, I found two extra magnified photos online that help paint the picture of what I was faced with. As I snapped the picture, the camera sound effect went off, and I kid you not, I saw the mantis’ head turn 180 degrees and stare at me with its large compound eyes. (Upon some internet research, I learned they also have 3 other simple eyes located between its two giant ones. I also saw a video of a mantis hunting, catching, and then eating a small field mouse. AAAHHH!)  Anyway, so I proceeded to step back slowly and move away from the monster before I book it through the courtyard doors. That little bugger stayed in one place for 9 hours straight. I swore I would see it again this morning but thank God it went on its merry way. Or maybe it’s hiding in the dead palm plant, blending in and laughing as it plots to jump in my hair once I pass by.

 

Now, now, I know what you’re thinking. Why didn’t you just kill it? Killing it is not an option. For one: It’s outside in nature. That’s his turf. For two: Although mantis give me the hibitty jibbitys, they are good because they kill pests such as flies. Not to mention that females sometimes eat their mate after, or even during a sack session. I once saw something on National Geographic of the latter; she chopped his head clean off but his bottom half continued to do the deed. Perhaps he asked her to “give him some head” and she was like, “how about YOU give me some head!” Ouch. Never underestimate the cunning qualities of our insect friends. But still, despite the risk of getting risqué with a female mantis, males continue to pursue and consummate with the fairer sex. It’s a fact, even in the world of bugs, men will do anything for sex; even if it means doing it with a cannibal.

 

 

 

Oh make me over!

Da nuh nah nuh nah nuh!

My grannie, aka "lola" asked me to color her hair today, and what started as a simple favor became a full on makeover: Hair color, style, and make up. She looks instantly younger and more lively. The best thing about it is that she feels good because she knows she looks good. It was a treat for me to see her smile.

She is getting out of the house for a family party; one of the first times she's ventured out for something besides a doctor appointment. And now she will be stepping out in style!

No matter what age, if you're a woman, when you look good, you feel good! :)

Sent via her BlackBerry

"I'm just here to walk my dog"

As I buckle the leash on my dogs collar and venture out into the street, I am sometimes interupted by annoying men. I don't know what it is about a girl walking down the street, but whatever's in the air causes some of the most annoying behavior ever. I can't count the number of times I've either:

A) Sarcastically laughed and belittled a guy for their inappropriate sidewalk advances

B) Rolled my eyes in disgust and ignore a guy completely, acting as if he's non-existent

C) Gave a guy the finger, and sometimes the double bird if he really deserves it

Guys, guys, guys..trust me when I say that any intelligent, headstrong, or quality woman would ever take heed to your advances when she's out walking her dog on the street. You will not appear suave and coy by pulling your car up to her as she walks and you slowly roll alongside her to spit your pathetic game. Instead, you'll creep her out and you may get maced if she carries one of those keychain thingys.

That kinda bullshit only works in music videos, where bimbos and hoes will gladly flock to your car in their skivvies.

In real life, a classy female does not wish to be "holla"d" at. Please, please spare yourself the embarrasment.

And here's another thing- Don't call us "baby" or "shawty" or "boo" or any other fuckin' lame term of endearment you've recently looked up in the slang dictionary lately. If you want to say hello, here's how you do it: Hello! Period!

While you're driving down the street, man oh man does it make us want to chop your ding-a-ling like a sushi roll when you honk obnoxiously, yell out any of the aforementioned "TOD'S", and worst of all, make kissy noises or wolf whistle out of your window like a NYC construction worker. You big pig, there's nothing pussier than a hit-on-u-and-run. If you don't have the cojones to act a fool on foot then don't be a coward and do it while driving, skating, bicycling, etc. I swear I'm going to clothesline one of you someday!

Lastly, I'm a nice person so if you're unassuming and just being neighborly, great. But if you use the "what kind of dog is that?" line only as a lead in to follow it with some sort of advance, then shuddafukkupp and let me walk my dog in peace, I can see right through you.

Recently I had an encounter that is the first of its kind on the street. I was at a stoplight awaiting the big red hand to change to the white walkin stick man, dog in tow. A group of young guys, seemingly drunk walked to my side of the street. Two of them jaywalked and thought they were the coolest kids on the block for breaking the law. Fucking amateurs. I'm standing there, minding my own business when I feel someone lightly grab at my arm as he asked in his best cool guy voice "eh, what kind of dog is that?"

I slowly turned my head to face his direction, gave him an icy death stare, and calmly, but authoritavely said "Don't fucking touch me. I don't know you", and turned my gaze back to the street in front of me. He standed there silent for several minutes with his tail between his legs before whimpering out "I just wanted to know what kind of dog that is!"

Yeah. Riiight. Sure. And I like getting touched by strangers.

Sent via her BlackBerry

Zoom Zoom

When it comes to driving, one of the things that irk me the most are people who suck at canyon driving. The point of driving through the hills is to short cut your way from point A to point B faster than you can say "freeway traffic eats dirty balls".
You don't need to take lessons to navigate hills properly and keep it moving steadily along, thus ensuring you don't wear your brake pads down to a sliver after one trip through the hills.

All it takes is a little common sense and spatial know how.

Sunday morning I got stuck behind an idiot of a canyon driver. In front of her: nothing but clear clear clear. But yet, she had her iron foot steadily on the brakes for practically the entire descent. Red lights stared me in the face, and despite my best efforts to use the 3-second rule I couldn't get a decent flow going. Seriously lady, stick to the straightaway flat roads and leave the winding, gravity induced, scenic view to the pros.

It's like your own little rollercoaster ride if driven right..fuuu-un! So, lady in the dirty camry that I will now refer to as Ironfoot: I have some advice for you. As Ludicris so poetically put it "Move bitch, get out the way, get out the way, get out the way!" Mooove!!


Sent via her BlackBerry

People watching

As I sit in my usual spot and eat my lunch, I usually end up observing the people around me because there's really not much else to do other than watch the cars speed down Ventura Blvd.

The most interesting person award goes to a seemingly average, old-fashioned, proper woman in her 60's from the front view as she approached the Western Bagel shop behind me: white hair in a cropped cut, fair, creped skin, and a casual white tee, pull on pants, and sneakers.

As she walked out of the shop and away from me, I was surprised to see a small lock of hot pink hair that formed a sort of mini-tail behind her head. Totally unexpected. What a rockin' mama! In a sea of pre-conceived judgments that she's just your "typical old lady" all she has to do to prove you otherwise is smile, turn, and walk away. That hot pink lock is probably her way of giving you the finger, and in many ways is like a subtle yet in your face way to express attitude and spunkiness that is still alive and kickin'.

I only wish I had shot a picture of it..
Sent via her BlackBerry

Whose line is it anyway?

Hmm..I wonder what this girl is thinking about. I don’t know what’s more disturbing: the fact that she can literally fold herself in half like a napkin or that she has THE MOST GINORMOUS camel toe on EARTH! And why the hell is there a square highlighting the bat on her shirt, as if that will deter the fact that she has giant labia. She could be a poster child for labioplasty that uses scare tactics to prompt you to action. Remember the frying egg on the scorching hot pan? “This is your brain, this is your brain on drugs?” Except her slogan would be “This is your labia; trim those lips down before they swallow your pink underwear whole.” Man, you can probably put lipstick on those bad boys.

 

If I had to guess what she’s thinking, it’d go a lil’ something like this:

 

“ Silly rabbit, so THAT’S where I hid my hot dog bun!”

 

“Ooh doggy, from this angle, I can watch the action as it happens!”

 

“Shit….I probably should have worn a black panty”

 

“Freaking camels, I knew that all those years of kicking me in the crotch would cause permanent damage!”

 

“I have the Angelina Jolie of labias.”