The madness that it is men

"Nice guys finish last". That is, or  at least should be, the bad boy motto. Why? Its true. The truth is, at one or other point in a girls life we all fall for that asshole who all but actually said he was an asshole (mine actually said that) while there was a perfectly nice guy who just wanted to make us happy. But thats boring right?

That i understand, sometimes you want to play on the edge, laugh a little, flirt a little, whatever. What i don't understand is why somewhere between laughing and flirting we want something more and just like that we forget who we're dealing with.

He is going to hurt you. Why? Because he's done that to every single girl before, and soon to be, including you. He will cheat on you, then after three weeks, three months or five years you will dump him and two days later he will start seeing someone better looking than you. Yes, he might not do exactly that or in that order but your dipshit is not so different from mine or any other person's so i'm willing to bet he's going to hurt you and for someone who "knew what they were doing" you'll be just a little bit too hurt, just a tad too surprised.

So what's this blog about? Men and stupidity and for once just being the one person who just says "no". Who just smiles and turns on their designer shoe and tells him just where to shove it (anywhere but in you!). If not, take a number, because thats what you are now. Welcome to "I should have known better", you live here now.

Ho's will be ho's

Ok, i get it. Its the century of short skirts, long weaves and loose morals. We're "young and wild and free" or whatever it is that we tell ourselves but there comes a time when "one too many" happens one too many times. now you might be wondering where i'm going with this because how am I -Jose Cuervo's wife -lecturing anyone about drinking? Not to worry, knock it back. Today i wanna talk about ho's. And again, no disclaimer, feel free to give me the side eye all you want! lol.

Obviously being a whore is bad for business but lets skip the whole moral aspect, what i want to talk about is that laugh out loud moment when a guy treats a ho like a ho and she gets upset.

In my usual spirited discussions with *Tequilla who also happens to be the bad boy of life (and you know girls are suckers for a bad boy) he said something quite profound: "essentially if you act like a ho you will be treated like one". Sad but true.

As girls, as women and someones future wife, we need to do better. We need to do more than just pout prettily and take shots and we certainly need to do more than rolling from bed to bed. Because unfortunately the rules are different for girls, you can't sleep with two guys on one night and expect us to hi five you, what we will do is shake our heads and cc you in a tweet about girls costing the cause.

What i'm trying to say is be careful. Know your worth and live it. If not, then please don't be surprised when he calls you to "chill" at 2 am, or when he ignores you the next day or when he tells everyone about it, because that's what you are now: something to do between chapters.

For those of us who would prefer to keep our dignities intact, the next time some barely-even-average nigga comes with his barely-even-entertaining one liners repeat after me: "Bat is for free, you can just get", then go to the bar and buy YOURSELF a drink and toast to the basic ho that is probably going to fall for it.

Oh so Lovely

I have always thought about myself as being a "Serena" fan. Not just because her legs go on forever but for those "I was meant to have a black card" moments i have every episode when Serena appears wearing sheer perfection (Two such moments below). But after looking at Blake Lively's Glamour shoot i realised that its more than just the character, its the package.

This is not a fashion blog by any measure but i thought id do something different for this post, not least because i shouldn't be the only person wondering if i missed my calling in life (Hollywood high society).. So let the drool and self-loathing begin ;)

Haters

So i'm going to go ahead and not put a disclaimer on this one, firstly because of poetic license or whatever but mostly because this is my blog and i am free to say whatever it is that's on my mind, read the "bio" - this is about the things we're thinking behind our smiles.. So essentially, love it, hate it or discuss it around the dining hall table i'm going to call it as i see it.


So today's blog is about haters. And yes, that term is more second line of a Kanye West song than i usually go for but alas, the term is kind of perfect. Just for kicks i looked up the word hater in the urban dictionary and i finally found it somewhere between no one cares and get a life. Hater is defined as being: " A person that simply cannot be happy for another person's success. So rather than be happy they make a point of exposing a flaw in that person. " 


Essentially, if you spend your time discussing someone who genuinely has no interest in you, i immediately assume that you are a standard loser, that or you are incredibly bored. More than that though, i think we live in a very coddling society where people will all but actually burn you at the stake for not being "politically correct" but does that now mean we should walk around campus in sackcloth hoping that at some point everyone is going to like who we are and what we say? Please. Kindly get over yourself.


What i find even funnier than the fact that people take time out of their degrees to actually hate is the fact that more often than not the person being hated on doesn't even know they exist. Kind of awkward when you think about it huh?


So bottomline, pay them no mind. Be exactly who you are. Be fearless, be well dressed but most of all be unapologetic for it. If they can't take it, that's for them and their crappy weaves to deal with.


But then again, who are they?

All that glitters..

So I blog about lots of things: douchebag boys and stupid girls and taking shots at the bar and sometimes I even throw in a little rendition about my often screwed up life wrapped in wit and humour so that you don’t see the pain that lurks behind it. But today I’m not going to do that, because well- its just that kind of day. Because today I was faced with the beauty that comes from pain.

Its rough on the streets in 2011, its even more rough when you live in a place where life seems to be quantified in notches on your bedpost and how many gallons of beer you can consume before tottering over to have a conversation you won’t recall. And to be honest, I didn’t tackle that which as much finesse and class as you’d think.

If anything, I was too busy straightening my weave and picking my next outfit to notice that somewhere between the *Strohrum chronicles and my last shot of tequila I had become just another dipshit in a short dress.

Why am I telling you this? Because how many people get blinded by the strobe lights and one too many compliments? But even more importantly, how many people get the chance to get up, dust themselves off and do better?

You see I got lucky. I realized in time that all that glitter was not gold. And its not because I suddenly got smart or I’m just bad like that. Its because God looked at me, shook his head a little and picked me up. And I know, cool people aren’t meant to talk about God too much, because we’re meant to be frivolous and fun, but its kind of hard to speak about the atrocity that is a synthetic weave when your heart is doing the cat daddy.

Bottomline: clubs close, the music stops, the bar stops serving and he starts sleeping with your best friend. What is important is the person who wakes up the next morning  and whether you can stand her.

There comes a time when we need to stop living life like it’s a music video and simply grab our heels and sprint to a place where we know better.. where we ARE better- and besides, I’m pretty sure they have the cat daddy in heaven ;)

So for me this is more than just a blog post, this is my love letter to God and to all the people that saw me through the furnace and into all the laughter and happiness that is the aftermath. I am more than blessed.

Sidechick 101.

So i am single. By that i mean, when i go somewhere, when i drink something, when i flirtatiously smile at some random guy at the bar or dance in a ridiculously short skirt, i don't have to wonder what anyone else thinks about it. When im in a relationship however, i'm in a relationship. And that means that whole biting of the lip, twirling of the hair thing i do takes a backseat.

But what are the rules when you're the sidechick? Question 1: Why are you the sidechick (0_o) lol.

Seriously though, leaving the moral aspect out of it, what is the standard protocol when you are dating someone else's boyfriend? I would assume that you are single. Any clever side-chick knows that the same way you do not have the right to question the philanderer's behaviour, he should not be in a position to question yours.

Its always funny to me listening to a side chick being grilled by SOMEONE ELSE'S BOYFRIEND, because now, you have all the responsibilities of a girlfriend but all the rights of a ho.

But whats even funnier to me are those sidechicks who then go and fall for the sorry excuse of a man. You my dear, are screwed- pun unintended. So i thought i would save the semi- oblivious girlfriend all the heartache of listening to whispered calls at 2 am and snooping through various desperate texts by giving a few pointers:

1. You are most likely going to fall for him. My theory is that you can only hook up with someone so many times before someone (you) decides to go and catch feelings.

2.He is not going to leave her. Yes, i know, he said that their relationship is over or he's never felt this way before, he lied. Even if he didn't- he's still not going to leave her. Why? No one wifes the ho.Simple as.

3. He is going to leave you. Why? I repeat: No one wifes the ho.

So bottomline? You will always get the short end of the stick. If you can grasp that concept, you've passed the course. Class dismissed ;)

Dear Future Husband

Somehow in the middle of tests, assignments, friends and the battle against the bulge, i still find the time to surf the internet aimlessly like I don't have a degree to get. But today all my procrastination actually bore fruit..

I found this beautiful piece written by Christina Hendricks, who just also happens to be smouldering! It says all the things that women want and like and don't even know we like. Literally mind blown and sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for the guy that calls me radiant :)

"Christina Hendricks: A Letter to Men

We love your body. If we're in love with you, we love your body. Your potbelly, everything. Even if you're insecure about something, we love your body. You feel like you're not this or that? We love your body. We embrace everything. Because it's you.

Speaking of your body, you don't understand the power of your own smell. Any woman who is currently with a man is with him partly because she loves the way he smells. And if we haven't smelled you for a day or two and then we suddenly are within inches of you, we swoon. We get light-headed. It's intoxicating. It's heady.

We remember forever what you say about the bodies of other women. When you mention in passing that a certain woman is attractive — could be someone in the office, a woman on the street, a celebrity, any woman in the world, really — your comment goes into a steel box and it stays there forever. We will file the comment under "Women He Finds Attractive." It's not about whether or not we approve of the comment. It's about learning what you think is sexy and how we might be able to convey it. It's about keeping our man by knowing what he likes.

We also remember everything you say about our bodies, be it good or bad. Doesn't matter if it's a compliment. Could be just a comment. Those things you say are stored away in the steel box, and we remember these things verbatim. We remember what you were wearing and the street corner you were standing on when you said it.

Never complain about our friends — even if we do. No matter how many times we say a friend of ours is driving us crazy, you are not to pile on. Not because it offends us. But because it adds to the weight that we carry around about her.

Remember what we like. When I first started dating my husband, I had this weird fascination with the circus and clowns and old carnival things and sideshow freaks and all that. About a month after we started dating, he bought me this amazing black-and-white photo book on the circus in the 1930s, and I started sobbing. Which freaked him out. I thought, Oh, my God, I mentioned this three or four weeks ago and talked about it briefly, but he was really listening to me. And he actually went out and researched and found this thing for me. It was amazing.

We want you to order Scotch. It's the most impressive drink order. It's classic. It's sexy. Such a rich color. The glass, the smell. It's not watered down with fruit juice. It's Scotch. And you ordered it.

Stand up, open a door, offer a jacket. We talk about it with our friends after you do it. We say, "Can you believe he stood up when I approached the table?" It makes us feel important. And it makes you important because we talk about it.

No shorts that go below the knee. The ones almost like capri pants, the ones that hover somewhere between the kneecap and the calf? Enough with those shorts. They are the most embarrassing pants in the world. They should never be worn. No woman likes those.

Also, no tank tops. In public at least. A tank top is underwear. You're walking around in your underwear. Too much.

You don't know this, but when we come back from a date, we feel awkward about that transition from our cute outfit into sexy lingerie. We don't know how to do this gracefully. It's embarrassing. We have to find a way to slip into another room, put on the outfit as if it all happened very easily, and then come out and it's: Look at me! Look at the sexy thing I've done! For you, it's the blink of an eye. It's all very embarrassing. Just so you know.

Panties is a wonderful word. When did you stop saying "panties"? It's sexy. It's girlie. It's naughty. Say it more.

About ogling: The men who look, they really look. It doesn't insult us. It doesn't faze us, really. It's just — well, it's a little infantile. Which is ironic, isn't it? The men who constantly stare at our breasts are never the men we're attracted to.

There are better words than beautiful. Radiant, for instance. It's an underused word. It's a very special word. "You are radiant." Also, enchanting, smoldering, intoxicating, charming, fetching.

Marriage changes very little. The only things that will get a married man laid that won't get a single man laid are adultery and whores. Intelligence and humor (and your smell) are what get you laid. That's what got you laid when you were single. That's what gets you laid when you're married. Everything still works in marriage: especially intelligence and humor. Because the sexiest thing is to know you. "

Amazing right?

Pat for your weave?

In 2011, or as I like to refer to it: the “pansy” generation we are urged to speak our minds… but as euphemistically as possible. *yawn*

My problem with this, other than the fact that its just pansy, is that I don’t understand why people want to behave in socially abhorrent ways and then expect us to just snicker and side-eye them quietly. So today I’m going balls to the wall, and yes girl with the synthetic or multi coloured weave, I see you and no, I do not like you.

Now I am the ultimate weave person, by that I mean, black weaves, brown weaves, long weaves, short weaves, as long as it’s a weave (and it can stand heat without shriveling like I’d imagine the dignity of the person with a plastic weave) then I’m a fan.

Before I get into it, let me first give you a clear explanation of what is and is not a weave:

1.       If it is synthetic, it is not a weave.

2.       If there are three strands of it on your entire head, no hunny, not a weave.

3.       If it is green, or pink, or it has blue streaks, it should not be a weave.

4.       If it is any combination of the above? Get the fuck outta here with that! (yeah, I said it.)

I get it, weaves- like other people’s boyfriends- are what’s done in 2011. But what people need to understand about fashion and life in fact, is that some things are not for everyone. And some things which are “fashionable” are not fashion, they are just a tacky gang mentality.

In my many spirited discussions about these pseudo- weaves people say things like “maybe she can’t afford a human hair weave” and granted, maybe she can’t… THEN SHE SHOULD’NT!!!! I cant afford a Louis Vuitton handbag, so guess what, I’m not prancing around with a bad knockoff, I simply pine in silence.

The there are those poor souls who apparently just have no taste. Now, that happens… apparently. But where are your friends?

Now I am not suggesting something drastic like, go live on an island where there is no sun to blind us with the glare of the disrespect on your head, I’m just saying, get braids. Simple as.

In preparing for this blog I decided, rather than have a seizure every 5 minutes, to celebrate those people doing it right! So here are a few pictures of those people living every day like the camera lights are flashing. Viva le Good Life!

Prince Charming

Im sure we’ve covered this already but I am genuinely not your cuddly, approachable, poncho wearing, skips down the road kind of girl. I sincerely doubt I ever read fairytales or if I did I am quite certain I did not believe in them. The natural extension is then, that I wouldn’t believe in all the faggy, naïve business about there being this “the one” person for every single person- well I didn’t… Until I did.

While speaking to my friend *Boo she said one of the most profound things ive heard since “Do-rags are no longer in fashion”.  She said “I cannot wait until I am worthy of the man that God has prepared for me”.

Now I’m a Christian and I genuinely believe in the fact that God wants us to have everything that we need and even want for an awesome life. But “the one”?? In a world where fidelity is just about as rare as Christians who are actually Christians?? Cumaaan right? Well I’m not so sure anymore.

After breaking down what *Boo said, I saw too things: WAIT and WORTH. The truth is we live in a very quick fix kind of world, and that translates to us changing boyfriends between Tequilla shots and “falling in love” with any guy who so much as smiles or buys us a drink and two minutes later says he loves us.

I don’t think when it comes to love- REAL love- its meant to be some sort of heady gallop down the aisle. I think real love takes waiting and saying no, not just to that free drink but to the insanely cute guy holding it.

But what is love really in a world where it is thrown around at even the chance of it resulting in a shag? Look im 20, I don’t really know, but I when I think of real love, I imagine the kind of love which is patient and kind, which is slow to anger and quick to forgive, the kind of love which is faithful and honest. The kind of love which does not beat you or berate you or sleep with your best friend. The kind of love you have to work for and wait for, where your head and your heart are all but screaming yes.

But if my incredibly idealistic version (now that im proof reading) is anything like what love really is then the idea of worth makes sense. Look, if you’re a crappy person I sincerely doubt that it makes sense for God to send you a man who will give you that kind of love, because you’re not worth it. Maybe that’s why we keep dating different kinds of the same asswipes, because shit attracts flies.

So yes, girl lying in a strange man’s bed, yes, girl passed out in the ladies bathroom at the club every weekend you are not worthy of Prince Charming, mostly because you are a frog. 

Highschool never ends.

So I am in varsity, or so I thought. It seems everywhere can all of a sudden transform into an episode of mean girls and lipgloss and dirty looks. Be it crèche, high school or the inside of a lecture theatre there seems to be no difference.  But these days we have traded diapers for plaid skirts and plaid skirts for sparsely attended lectures and it seems all of those for some misinformed belief that we form some sort of panel to judge people’s lives.

So where is this coming from? Its coming from laughing at all the kids who didn’t get gold stars in crèche, cringing at the fat girl in the class in high school and tutting at all the girls we label “ho’s” in varsity. But mostly it is from the realization that we think its ok, that its expected.  That we live in a world where we are held hostage by other people’s opinions of us.

So whether we are biting back tears when we are the butt of someones joke, pretending we don’t care when we realise what that statement really means when you remove the “lol” or laughing at some poor sap wearing cordrouy pants in 2011, the fact is, we are all of them.

We are the panel of haters, we are the girl we shake our heads at, and sometimes, we are a mix of the two. Its at this point that I want to throw in my plaid and my lectures for some common sense. Can we all just grow up and get lives? Can we get to a place where we our smiles are genuine, our exes aren’t crazy and we stop the running commentary on other peoples lives?

Really. If you’re anything like me, you should be too pretty and well dressed to care that the next person isn’t.