GOOGLE IT

GOOGLE IT

"I'll cum fassss, Because I won't drink this time. I pinky swear. So when are we going to do it again?"  I heard my older sister whispering into the phone.  I was shocked, because one: I didn't know she was sexually active, not that she couldn't have an orgasm from other types of stimulation, two: She is only 17, three: She doesn't have a boyfriend, four: I didn't know she drank and five: our dad would kill her and him. 

I've been wondering how an orgasm feels and now that I know she's had at least one, I want to ask her.  My BFF told me she felt like she had died and gone to heaven when she had one in the tub. I'm still trying to figure out how that is possible. 

I am 16 years old and shouldn't be thinking about orgasms, but what in the heck do you expect. Music videos with grown women spread eagle and sliding down polls upside down, rap lyrics, campaigns that sell sex in commercials to sell burgers and my big brother, who is 18, having regular muffled sex while our parents are at work. It always sounds like her head is covered by a pillow, I hope he doesn't suffocate her. 

There is only so much a 16 year old can take, before we fall in line with the rest of this seemingly horny, kinky society. 

I'll tell you what, I get tired of the mixed signals and double standards from people, mainly adults. Example: I have a teacher that wears low cut T'S and has at least a D cup. She puts those D's in Justin's face, every morning, when she leans down, in front of his desk, to talk to him. That is not necessary, Especially, since he's only 16. If she keeps that up, I know where it will lead and that's to her face being plastered on every news channel, like all these other perverted teachers. 

Since I see what she does and how open minded she appears, I thought she would not mind me using sexposition (GOOGLE IT) to liven up a boring report I was presenting in front of the class.  Well, I was dead wrong, that almost got me expelled from school. 

I could not believe, Miss D,  was so offended. This is the same teacher that puts her breast in a 16 year old boys face daily and the one whose camera phone I found which had pictures of her with her face between another woman's butt cheeks. Now that is disgusting. Not because I'm 16, but because it is. Maybe, that's why her breath smells like Uuk, in the morning, Justin must have Anosmia (GOOGLE IT). 

 

Even though I think about orgasms often, I keep my feelings suppressed. I don't even touch myself except to wash, wipe and change my pads.  I won't even use tampons, because, I may enjoy the feeling and want the real thing. My sister said that was silly, I guess she should know. 

 I plan on attending Dartmouth College, in two years. I refuse to allow anything to thwart that plan. I've seen what happens to good smart girls, like me, that become sexually active. Their once sharp minds become foggy. 

So, untill I'm married or at least have graduated from Dartmouth, I will not be having sex of any kind. I must keep my mind clear and remain focused. 

I'm Justine Amy Walsh, I have great BIG plans for my future, but like my orgasm thoughts I'm keeping quiet. Sometimes, you share your dreams with people and they wish you everything but good. 

Write down my name and please spell it correctly, Justine Amy Walsh.  In eight years, GOOGLE IT

YDC, 07/30/12, 0045 Hours

SEASONS

"Is there a reason you came and changed my life, cause it won't change back..." I sang with all my heart and soul and at the top of my lungs in alto, so you know the top was crackled with more emphasis than a high pitched even tone.  I'm sure if Chante Moore could hear my rendition her ears would ring, but she would be happy, sensing that I was singing from a place of knowing.

As I belted out, "I'm trying to forget, but I can't act as if we never met..." I heard my evil ass neighbor hitting her ceiling with that dang on broom stick. JEALOUS HATEFUL WENCH, is what I screamed under my breath. I would never say that aloud, because I was taught to respect my elders, but oooo did she make me mad. Her season had come and gone with no man, no marriage and no child, so I kinda understood her bitterness.

I'm one that believes in seasons. There is a season for living, dying, loving, exploring, welcoming new friends and even for birthing babies.

The Bible even says, "To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1

So why wasn't there a season associated with him. Or maybe there was, I just choose not to recognize it because it was much too short. It lasted 6 (grammarbook.com says the number 6 should be spelled out in a sentence, but I'm not following all the rules, this season) as I was saying, it lasted 6 wonderful weeks. The most amazing weeks I'd had in that particular life time. I say that, because, it feels as though I've had several life times.  Each is distinct in the way it smells, sounds, looks, tastes and most definitely feels. Which to me means I'm living a full life.

In my mind and what I'm telling ya'll is no one in the world, but a sociopath comes into your life, sweeps you off your feet, shows you places, just around the corner and down the street you've never seen, completely blows your mind, than without warning EVERYTHING abruptly comes to a screeching halt so fast that you get whip lash! Then arbitrarily walks away without uttering an "I'm sorry," "You were seasons past," NOTHING!!  He owed me that, or at least I thought he did. You even tell a dog why it's being punished. And I felt I was being punished.

Since 7 (that single number rule again) signifies completeness, out of respect for me and for what turned out to be our season he could have prolonged the end for another week. Wouldn't you agree or am I being over dramatic as I'm sometimes known to be.   

Two words in Ecclesiastes 3:1, SEASON and TIME implies duration and a point in time, therefore; nothing on earth lasts forever. So as to not cause further agony to myself, today, I'll recognize God is omnipresent and know that he determines the time and the duration of everything.

As the story goes everything has a beginning and an ending, his and mine lasted only 6 weeks, but my neighbor who was again hitting her ceiling with the broom handle, well our season was now, "Fa so la ti doooooo!" HA!

Seasons, seasons, seasons

LUTHER

She missed his deep set eyes, his piercing stare, his taste, his masculine voice that originated in his belly, his heavy breathing while passionately tongue kissing her and pulling her short permed to an inch of its life red hair, his business advice, their rendezvous, his skin the color of midnight, his breath that smelled of cigars and Glenlivet 18, his laughter, his walk, his calling instead of texting... She missssed him, her secret, his secret...

"Anyone who had a heart would take me in his arms and love me too..." That song she could not get out of her head, as hard as she had tried. 

She didn't miss his secretiveness, his woman(s), his mystique, his unwillingness to commit to only her (well, that was impossible, because of his other situation/s), his paranoia of who may know about them, the them he once said, "Doesn't exist," his being cold and hot, how he toyed with her emotions, saying, "I'm figuring things out" then days later, "I'd like to touch you." 

"Don't you remember you told me you loved me baby, you said you'd be coming back this way again baby..." She quietly sang before screaming out, "I'm tired!" over and over again.

She knew what she had to do, run for refuge to the place that held all her secrets, brought her great peace and provided her answers. There she would cast her unrequited love for him in the ocean to be swept away for ever. 

It was 1145 Pm, 15 minutes before a new day, when she got out of her car and began walking bare foot in the sand, under the moon light listening to the roar of the ocean and watching the waves as they washed ashore. She hoped somehow her deep feelings for him would recede like a tsunami, but never return.  

As if being gently guided, She stopped and walked to the mouth of the ocean.  Her cleansing ritual began, as it always did, with her facing south. She closed her eyes and allowed the cool water to caress her feet.  With her arms stretched out and her palms facing the heavens, She exhaled deeply and prayed that god would separate their intertwined spirits so she could move on.  As tears flowed uncontrollably and with out inhibition, she felt a gradual release and for the first time in months she felt free. As she slowly opened her eyes, she saw what looked like a black ball  being taken under the waves and far out to sea, she smiled, dried her eyes and walked back to her car with a new sense of self and inner peace.

Seated in her car, she noticed it was 12:06 AM, the day after.  She looked at herself in the rear view mirror, said I love you into her eyes,  put on some lip gloss and started her engine. She began laughing out loud when, "Roll back the rug everybody, move all the tables and chairs, we're gonna have us a good time tonight..." Roared from her speakers. 

She was glad Luther had been with her through this journey. She sang along and drove off knowing that a new day had finally arrived.

**Readers, this is a tale of healing from a LoveHanger or HeartAche.  If you have no beach in your town, find a peaceful place where you can go to cast all your problems and fears**  Trust me, it works.     

Ruby Woo

As he stood in line at the corner liquor store orderIng his hog head cheese and asking that it be sliced thin, she stood behind him and said whenever she saw him, she felt like wrapping her Ruby Woo painted lips that resembled those of the ancestors around, over and down that Nigga's swollen manhood, until he told her he loved her over and over again. I laughed out loud, cause Alize Hennesy Monroe didn't like men, cause of some shit she said  happened to her when she was a kid. The crazy thang is that she said she ain't neva go get no help, cause she wanted to let dead dogs lie (Ladies and Men too, if someone fucked with y'all as a kid, tell someone and get help)!

Of course she would never put her big ass lips on his dick, cause she had never approached a man in her 33.5 years of livn', but they approached her. See Alize was one of them pretty lipstick lesbians. You know the type that wore 6" heels and Ruby Woo lipstick, even in the summer time. Her mama said only fassss ass women wore blood stained lips, especially when it was hot outside. 

Now, we ainte go talk about Alize's mama, but for a minute. Ms. Monroe called herself CREAM, cause cash ruled everythang around her.  Miss Cream, The one who always seemed to be wearing lingerie, who sat in her 2nd floor picture window pantyless with her legs spread apart, like it was the natural thing to do. The one who always had a Newport between shiny ample lips and who always held a glass of Smirnoff poured over ice in her well manicured  hands, was a very interesting woman.

I personally learned a lot from Miss Cream by just watching and listening to her.   She the one who told us, as girls, that our pussy's should be free of hair, that our legs, elbows and lips should always be greased up.  She knew a lot for a woman that did nothing, but mostly sit 1/2 assed naked in her window, drink vodka and smoke cigarettes.  My mama didn't tell me the things Miss Cream did.  Some of the shit she told us girls I can't even say here, but I can tell you I found it to be very useful when I was grown. 

Miss Cream was something else, the ladies at the church whispered. I think they was jealous and probably wished they could sit in they windows showing they pussy's to the world or either they thought Miss Cream had popped her thang on one of they men. She probably did.  When Ms. Cream got liquored up, which was every day, all you could hear her saying was, "All you ladies pop yo pussy like this..." or "Niggas ainte shit, but hoes and tricks."
Well, from the number of men she had creepn' out her crib at odd hours of the night, I'm sure Miss Cream could pop that pussy, and from the absolute lack of  men you saw during the day, I'm sure she thought they wasn't shit. (If you're reading this and you're a hoe, regardless of what you've heard or been told, you can change and actually become a housewife. I've seen it). I am not saying Ms. Monroe was a hoe,I'm just saying if you have hoe-ish ways, like they say Miss Monroe has, don't be discouraged). nbsp; 

Alize didn't give a damn if her mama was a hoe or drank Smirnoff from dusk to dawn, she always said, "That's my mama and I love her." (That's what kids are supposed to do, love they mamas. Daddy's was a different story though). 

As day turned to night, Alize told me what she would do if she saw him again, the one that had too many tattoos to count, who wore his NY Yankees cap turned to the side, his jeans real low showing his Calvin Klein briefs and his Air Forces white as snow. I listened like a good friend does before cutting her off saying, "You ainte go bust a grape," while sipping on some overly sweet ass Moscato.  Moscato is definitely not my drink of choice, because the shit is too damn sweet, but since it was free, I drank up.  (As a matter of my opinion, people especially blacks shouldn't drink Moscato.  It's one of the reasons they have problems with they sugar, drinking Moscato is like drinking sugar water).

It wasn't long before I saw him walking toward us, effortlessly looked kinda like the Nigga was gliding on air. He had more swag than our fine ass president. I know Michelle had to be poppin that pussy on him every night. That's why we ainte never heard about no damn intern slobbin on his dick and him spillin his presidential juices on nobodies dress or nothing else. I love my president and the fact he got him a Sista and a dark one at that. As he got closer, I could see why Zay wanted to put her mouth on him and I was go encourage her cause that's what friends do. He was a sexy blue black mutha fucka. "Zay!" I yelled in a 1/2 tipsy and 1/3 too loud to be safisticated voice, "There that Nigga is, what you go do!" egging her on. Alize Hennesy Monroe looked me dead in my eyes and said, pass me the Ruby Woo...

Love Em, But Leave Em

This is a cautionary post for all my ladies over 40...

Ladies, Men that are in their late 20's and 30's are not to be considered for a serious relationship.  They are for: Looking at with lustful eyes sometimes, fantasizing about while pleasuring yourself, updating your iPod with all the latest rap for your gym workouts, for telling you they'd drink your urine (true story), and for sexing sometimes. 

Do NOT and I Repeat Do NOT confuse multiple orgasms, for loving him And, by all means Do NOT look into his eyes, if you do, you are a goner.  They have some kinda hypnotic power!  (My friend, in my head, Wendy Williams agrees, well truth be told she warned us, the 40 sumthins, on her show about this). Look at Demi Moore, she has completely lost her mind.  What a shame, she didn't recognize what it really was.

These relationships don't work as long term anyway for several reasons.  The most important reason is a woman in her 40's eggs are probably all dried up.  And you know he'll eventually want a child.  Most 40 sumthins don't want any more children even if the seed finds an unsuspecting viable egg to penetrate,  because they probably have grown kids and grands too. 

So, my 40 and up sistas recognize what it is and LOVE EM, BUT LEAVE EM...  05/19/12, 2200

Shake ya ass, watch ya self

Umbilical cords are still attached to grown ass kids and their parents. Yea, some daddies have them attached to them as well.

"UmbiliKids" is what I call them. These adult kids range in age from 18 - 38, some older, both male and female and there is no specific race. They still depend on mom or dad for 1 or all of the following: food, shelter, clothing, cigarettes, money or contributions to their fabulous life styles.

While they are reaping all the benefits they: Talk shit, make their own house rules, have attitudes and sum Otha dumb shit. 

One day as I sat in my office  my phone rang, "Riiiing!" "Hello" I said. "My son (who is 28) will be late for his interview, because he overslept," the caller said. Me 0_0 staring at the phone and thinking, "No, his mama, just did not call me!" "Thanks for calling," was my response. When UmbiliKid arrived, he was promptly thanked and excused.
Come on Son, the least you could have done was to call yourself!

UmbiliKids usually have a parent or parents that make a reasonable living and have overindulged the Umbili's as they were growing up. And, as adults the parents have looked for jobs for them, typed resumes, completed apps, bent rules and allowed them to talk shit without repercussion and consequence. And, most have the God awful "Right of entitlement" attitude.

UmbiliKids, work and with their money they: shop, wet their whistles with too much alcohol, smoke weed, snort cocaine indulge in designer drugs (WTF is that you ask: Ecstasy seems to be a very popular one). Most couldn't pass a poly or drug test to save their own Umbili neck!" 

They live the life of Riley: They sleep late, take trips, half do chores (if they do any at all),  "Shake ya ass watch ya self" in clubs wearing the finest clothes and shoes, before exiting to retrieve their rides from valet to go salivate over lobster pizza at Berri's.

Some UmbiliKids don't even contribute to the house by buying toilet paper to wipe their precious asses or a loaf of bread for their favorite sandwich, which they can count on making with meat their parents have purchased for the Umbili's consumption. 

It's not Umbili's fault they act this way, it's the parents fault. 

UmbiliKids are not dumb, a lot are educated and degreed up (by either the streets, books or both). My co-workers son has 2 masters degrees and working on a 3rd. He refuses to work, lives in her home off money left by his dad (which she said is almost gone) and plays video games all day. He's 30 something. Oh yea, she said he doesn't even clean up after himself or make his bed and that she does it after her 10 hour work day... GTFOH! The kicker is  he brings strange hot girls into her home at night to screw... Uhhh huh 

If you are an UmbiliKid and you are reading this and you live at your parent's home, because the economy is bad and you can't find a job to sustain an apartment and everything that comes with being on your own or you just prefer having all your hard earned money to yourself, my advise to you is to: SHUT THE F*#K UP, be nice, kind, smile often, speak in soft tones, buy some toilet paper, pay a light bill and be productive in your parent's home! 

Parents, time for reprogramming and cutting the umbilical cord, because we have real.com messes on our hands! 

I shake, shiver and convulse  thinking UmbiliKids are our future...

"Shake ya ass, watch ya self..." 

06/22/11, 0622hrs

Lick This

People please STOP putting ya'lls mouths on everything you think is: cute/fine, smells good, has a good job, drives a nice car, has a nice crib, dresses well, degreed up (has 1 or more college degrees), speaks well, bodied up (baad meaning good body), blah, blah, blah

Especially y'all men, because y'all are the first ones that wanna lick and taste something! A male friend called and told me the honey he thought tasted like mangos and sum otha exotic fruits (well, not his words, exactly, my line from my blog "Excuse Me Ms") finally allowed him to taste the fruit and what he received in return was  Herpes, yep, that for which there is no cure.

I just read an article on www.ashastd.org that stated Nearly 1 in 2 African American adults have genital Herpes, but 90% don't know it.  WTF!! That sure is high! So, that means every other black person has Herpes??? Awww, hell to the no, that study can't be right! Can it?? If so, that's scary!

Hmm, reading those stats had me thinking about the "Tuskegee syphilis experiment" (with a twist) which was conducted btw 1932-1972 in Alabama on black men (if you are not familiar with this, slap ya self then Google it).

In another article, same site, it was stated: Experimental trial Herpes vaccine doesn't work for women. Well double damn! Eve really F*#%*d things up, when she had Adam bite that apple: Periods, labor pain, too damn emotional and now a Herpes vaccine that doesn't work for women... 4Realz??? What part of the game is that!

Ok, back to my friend, he said he ONLY sucked her Ussy once and hasn't been with anyone, besides his right hand, in a minute. A week after the sampling and savoring, he said he got a strange cluster of bumps and to his dismay was diagnosed with Herpes. Now, his ass is all mad. "Damn, she didn't look like she had nothing," Is what he said. I stared at the phone, and said, "4realz, Son!"

Now for my PSA (Public Service Announcement): If you are really into oral satisfaction, giving or receiving, consider using a dental dam.  www.sgfelken.com has pictures and explains it's use during oral activity. I'm pretty sure the feeling won't be as intense, but you will avoid the clusters my boy has, is all...