www.dog-gonepoo.com
I’m supposed to be working on an online class that’s work-related, but I couldn’t resist droppin’ in while I had access to some free wifi.
I have to tell you that it feels like Stella is hitting her groove again. I’ll be back in the pocket on Tuesday with fresh material I hope.
I saw Fantasia in concert last night and jammed with a fellow old head when she brought it with “Purple Rain.” Some of her tween fans didn’t know what the heck was going on. I love that song!! The stranger with whom I was singing along and I both agreed that a lead guitar was necessary to pull of Prince’s legendary riffs, but the performance floated well anyway. She squashed rumors that she’s been off having babies and revealed that she’d actually been recovering from surgery. She looks fit, but I can’t understand for the life of me why she’s marked up about half of her brown skin with HYUGE tattoos. Escapes me completely.
Another thought: it was an outdoor concert. For the life of me I can not understand why with all the space that is outdoors someone felt the need (make that two someones) to have their breasts in my back. I snapped at no small number of Bey-Bey’s kids and their mommas, AND checked one chick for waving her cancer stick too close to my face–that would be two feet to be exact. Why do people feel that concerts give them a pass to ignore the rules of personal space?!! I voluntarily moved from the front of the stage to far away from it after Fanny began her set and had a far better time.
Moving on: What do you do about nasty neighbors? I have one who insists on letting his dog crap in front of my house!! It stinks like, well, you know, and we live entirely too close for that. The sidewalk patch of grass is in front of my house, but there is enough grass across the street for him to walk his dog if he weren’t being such a lazy aspirin!! He does a good job of looking out for my house, but dude is just old and straight NASTY!!! Clearly my neighbor needs to check out dog-gonepoo.com (see their logo above). We share a porch; his trash always ends up on my side. The final straw has been me spotting some of his critters in my house. I’ve got to find a way to broach the subject without having a shouting match; I, of course, would be the one shouting as we’ve spoken before and he always denies any wrongdoing, even though he’s the only one on the whole block with a dog big enough to produce the crap I see and smell that attracts all the area flies. I hear from another neighbor that the inside of his house is just as bad. I need a new method to make my point because I’m considering moving. I don’t want to start praying because I don’t want the poor man to wake up dead, but seriously, something’s got to give. Any suggestions?
Yall be good now, and I’ll holla at you soon.
Peace.
I’m visiting the DMV, even though I actually live nearby. I’ve granted myself a three month vacation this year, so I’m in town handling some business. I’m using some free wifi, so I’ll give you a quick update.
I have a close family, so when my cousin literally dropped dead last week rather unexpectedly, it threw everyone for a loop. I’m still reeling. There’s a beautiful story behind her life, but I’m not quite up to telling it just yet. It’s a wonderful love story. She and her husband share a birthday. 
I offered to do something for a friend, and now I feel like flaking, but said friend seems to be really excited about what I committed to do. Ho hum…I guess I’ll have to go through with it even though I feel like doing little of anything.
I’ve been avoiding the news and am behind on current events? Anything interesting going on in the world that I need to know about? I logged on today and saw that the pope doesn’t wear Prada. I’d say that’s high on the list of things I really don’t need to know.
Since I’ve been away from my summer abode, my dad asks me in each conversation when I’m coming back as if my return date is suddenly going to change and move up. I haven’t decided if he’s forgetting the answer or just subtly dropping hints. He’s fallen since I’ve been gone trying to do some of what he usually harasses me to do. I guess he really does miss me then.
What else?
I’ll be back to hot topics soon. Yall hold it down.
That’s what I am this week. I’m in the DMV, and I have limited internet access this week. Please pardon my absence, but I’m sure it must serve some greater purpose.
I should be able to resume my regular posting and commenting activities on July 1 at the latest in the event that my access remains limited.
Otherwise, I’m well.
Peace.
My Latest Theory on Male Infidelity
I got it! By George, I’ve got it! I’ve finally figured out why I fascinate some married men. I’m the girl they looked over but now wish they had. If only I were being arrogant… Think of Musiq’s The Girl Next Door–that’s me all day long.
This is my theory. Some married men stray to satisfy their sexual fantasies. We typically assume that is why most men cheat, other than the reason of “because they can.” I submit to you that there may be another reason as well. Consider this: some men cheat because they married the fantasy chick and now wish they had married a wife, or at least the girl next door.
Think about it. The girl next door is your girl, your homie, your ace, you know, you can just be yourself and chill. Think Xscape’s “Just Kick It.” Most men, for reasons I do not understand, feel at ease around me as they get to know me. They usually have a combination of intrigue and curiosity going on trying to “figure” me out. I’m laid back. I’m a Southerner. I’m easy like Sunday morning and cool as a cucumber, which by the way, really are cool. (Did I mention I’m a corn ball?) The girl next door is the one you kick it with while never really thinking of her as a girl. She’s always, you know, just the girl next door. Until you see her years later, all grown up, and she’s suddenly so much more. The girl next grows up to be a beautiful woman and sometimes a wife.
My ex’s stepdad called it just right. I was in high school and he told his son: Boy, you’d better hold on to her because in a couple years she’s gone be fiiiiiiiiinnee!! I blushed back then, absolutely clueless as to what he really meant. I was still developing, but since I was still oblivious to male attention, I maintained a great deal of humility, naivete, and just innocent sweetness that stuck for a long time. I was the girl next door. So, it’s not so strange that a guy who gets a little frustrated in his marriage will let his mind drift to the last time he was really comfortable with a member of the opposite sex, and for some men that will be when they were just kicking it with the girl next door who is now so much more. They want a girl who is cool, confident, beautiful, handling her own, and is also a wife. That wife part is the key because this is the guy who when he was younger wasn’t as concerned about having a wife as he was a sex partner and/or tropy. But things change. If he’d known better, he would’ve found out that part of being a wife is being a willing participant in that undefiled marriage bed of anything goes, but he didn’t choose a wife–he just chose a partner.
When the kids are unkempt but the spouse’s nails and hair are done, the husband wishes he’d married a wife who is also a mother. (All women aren’t maternal.) When the spouse refuses to have children, the man wishes he’s married a wife who’s also a mother again. When the dishes are piled high and the spouse is still ready to hit the club, the man wishes he’d married a wife. When the trophy is breaking his bank and has no concern for the household expenses, the man wishes he’d married a wife. When the woman who shares his bed makes him feel like she’s doing him a favor by being there, he wishes he’d married a wife. Dude is feenin’ for the girl next door and can only think, she would never do this to me.
Let me digress a bit. My single male cousin was discussing me with his married friend who did not know that I was listening to the whole conversation. I knew the first time dude met me he was fascinated. He’s a business associate of my mom’s. He was a bit too generous with his compliments and stayed longer than he should have trying to extend the conversation, and the fact that he was married was a bigger turn-off than the fact that he still wouldn’t be my type even if he weren’t. See, that’s the thing. Guys always tend to assume they could actually pull the woman about whom they fantasize if they weren’t married. They cannot. Just stop already.
I may come across as kind, considerate, compassionate, and yaddah yaddah yaddah yah, but if someone left his wife and I (in a moment of gross stupidity) married him, I wouldn’t still be those things because compromising my standards would make me into someone else, someone God never intended for me to be.
Anyway, dude concluded that my cousin didn’t have to try to save me for him because I was clearly uninterested. 
You think?!! Dude’s rationale is that he’s preparing to divorce his wife, but if he knew what I knew, he would keep her. From what I know, he actually lucked up and married a wife instead of a good time girl. He’s just being extra.
Me? I like to have a good time, but I’m definitely a wife. The married guys I meet are drawn to the wife-like qualities that I have. I’m a wife. That’s just what I am except I have no husband. The fantasy is beauty, brains, and wife all in one neat little package. I fit that bill. I am the girl that men who married young would overlook because the requisites then (20s) were beauty, maybe brains, and good time girl. I’ve never fit that bill. I neither flaunt nor hide any of my better qualities, but I’m all too aware that I have them.
I’m an extension of an unfulfilled fantasy: I wish I’d married the nice girl. Coupled with the wrong person, there is very little that is sweet, beautiful, or alluring about me. That is what the married guy fails to get. You wouldn’t complete me; you’d create an ugly me because we are no better than the people with whom we connect ourselves.
When men tell me, your husband will be one lucky man, I know he will because he will be my husband and I will be his wife. Shoot, I’m already his wife; I’m just holding it down until he finds me. God says he finds, but you know what? I choose. That is why I’m still single; I haven’t chosen any of the men who have found me. I plan to choose wisely, so I am single by choice and not by force.
For all those men who wish they hadn’t overlooked the girl next door way back when, just wish… I bet you can turn a garden tool into a housewife and make an ordinary woman become a wife. But why don’t you work on what’s at home and see how that goes.
To be fair, this works both ways. Women also cheat because they wish they’d married a husband instead of what they have at home.
I’m posting from my reserves (draft files). This was written to post yesterday, but it’s all I have for now. Enjoy.
Is it just me or is this week reminiscent of former days when time just seemed to stand still? I remember it feeling like that when I was growing up. I believe last week ended with such a bang! of events that folks are just now starting to catch their breath. Whatever the case, it’s WEDNESDAY, so let’s just hump wit it.
I joined the 50 million pound challenge on Monday and picked up my kit on Tuesday. I’ve lost weight already, but I don’t understand how my current weight is obese based on the chart. Really, I don’t. My measurements, minus the waist size, remind me of that brick house song because the only extra is in my boobs and hips. I now have a typical black girl shape, and I’m kind of feeling it. I’ve gained and lost before due to illness, and I know that nothing helps the boobs. They like to pick up weight and not put it down. The most I can hope is to drop a band size, and I know my band is not going below 34. The cup size I now have to order. To give you a clue, the kids called me Dolly Parton in middle school. The minimizer is my friend.
So, I guess, thanks to my boobs and butt, I am technically obese–all size 14 of me. A 14 I must wear to accommodate my boobs that sometimes still refuse a 14. My last ditch effort to address the boobs and butt is this challenge.
I’m pretty much back where I was last summer when I had a trainer. Actually, I’m a little better off. Over the next two weeks, I plan to lose at least five pounds. See, my strategy is to aim low so I will have no disappointment. I’m capable of losing far more, and I know it. Oh yeah, I’m making all of my plans with the assumption that my doctors are going to clear me for regular activity. I’m sure they will. I rock.
