Impulse Control… Poetry

So the Sippy Cup (re: ) is already getting poetry written about him. Again, this can’t be good, and I’m waiting for bad things to happen. The poetry that came out of it isn’t so bad though 😛

“Impulse Control”

I should take it slow…
I know
As my body reacts differently
Heating at your touch
Melting at your voice
You tell me a song with your smile
And I’m already a puddle

Slow, slow
Even as I move to claim your lips
Your lust, your heart
Taking you inside of me in whatever way possible at this moment

Slowly, slowly
“Let’s not rush,” I whisper to myself
As I take in your scent
The vision of you
Becoming drunk off the fantasies
Pouring through my mind, my very spirit
All connected
My emotions want slow
As my body primes for Now
Impulse control shot to hell and back

It’s simple.
I want.
And I don’t want to wait.

Be the strength of us both, I beg
To slow things down
Slowly, slowly move towards
A heightened feeling of more
Before I take over
And plunge us both
Into an exploding moment of ecstasy


Aaaand, Of Course Its A Great Day to be Smacked in the Face Verbally

You know, I’m enjoying my freedom as the Monster is on Vacay (at gramma’s house, out of my hair, FREEDOM!!!). And so, I’m getting more workouts in. Going out on more dates, since I don’t look in the mirror and see Little Miss Muffin Top Blobette. I’ve lost over 30 pounds so far. Go me! I’m still curvy as all heck, but my thighs do look like they’ve regressed from toddlers to newborns.

And I’m feeling great. I’m feeling pretty, oh so pretty. And on the dating sites I feel my confidence leaking into the interwebs.

Even with the randoms that throw me off, like Mr. 24 hour stalker.

But there’s always one. I’d like to add this message verbatim.


Message 1 from Douchebigalow (I think he’s trying to connect with my geeky profile, where I have photos of me in what-else? Cosplay):

INTj have one weakness… the J… Yes, you feline eyes are there, but who says magic is there gift…. It might be intimate. Please only reply if you are not “WHITE BOY Crazy.” Seriously… yes, I said it. Still I don’t think MAn of STEEL will be better than Avengers… EN_ _ on the test aka SENOR Q ps., Thinking women are quite interesting and not in a Vulcan sense. lol.

Message 2 from Douchebigalow (after he’s seen that I looked at his page but did not reply):

See,  I did not call you those names… lol. Thanks for stopping by and being legit about the cat or pantera in you… oh, Cheshire 
in you… off to meditate… Oh, I love the Receding hairline on the new Superman. It gives him something. lol… WHat do you think?

I finally reply to Senior Douche:

You know, I did not reply, because I can’t tell if you were trying to be funny, or slyly put me down and be racist by questioning if I’m white boy crazy? Seriously, do you get many women interested in you with that kind of opening? Not this one. Not this one at all.

And I get back from Senior Douche:

Hi Oreo cookie…

My last reply before blockage:

I still don’t even get why you contacted me in the first place, just to troll and hurl insults? If I was at all interested, I would be extremely pissed that you are calling me out of name now, with a slur, just because I don’t fit your ideal of what a black woman should think. Thank God I’ve come from a racially diverse family, lived all over the world, and am raising my son not to be an ignorant bastard like men of your ilk. Good day sir, please enjoy me blocking you.


Seriously, am I over reacting with this shittake mushroom?! As you can tell, this was a black male. Apparently he guessed from my profile/ hobbies or just wanted to make sure that I was not “White Boy Crazy”. And yes, the Cheshire is my thing. WTF about being legit about the cat in me? WTF about talking about the J in my Myers Briggs INTJ?

Why message me just to be soooo, ew?! Just go die in a corner ahole. This pissed me off more than it should have. Seriously, even without the put downs this dude was not attractive to me in the first place, no matter his race. But to actively troll me with BS on a stupid dating website? To call me an oreo when you don’t even know me? Dagnabbit, I’m an uppity negro thank you very much! ( )

Yeah, I was trolled. Letting this whole irritation go in 3, 2, 1.
I hope his testicles rot off.

Yes, Even My Toes Are Monogamous

Sooo, the date that I had a couple of weeks or so ago.

You know life was too normal to be right, that it went well, AND the dude didn’t irritate me, right?

Uh huh… This is the face of hope hanging on by a thread.


Everything with date itself was actually pretty great. A lame action movie, some hand-holding, some long gazing to rival Spock and Kirk in the newest Star Trek movie. The dude didn’t say anything too weird (except for some hints of a foot fetish), or have any real weirdness to him. A hug and kiss I was not prepared for/expecting by the end of the night, that actually gave me a light giggly bits flutter.

Too good to be frackin true.

So, Faceybook is the devil Bobby. And as usual, it slapped me with some shittake I wasn’t expecting. I’m a-scrolling, FB porchsitting, you know. Watching as life happens internetically (oooh, I like my new word). And I see Mr. GuyDude himself, with, *gasp* another chick on his new profile status saying “In a Relationship”.

That would be my heart if I had actually cared…

That chick was not me. And to add to this dude is sending me texts about another date, possible foot massages, all that shittake mushroom. And I say of course at this moment “Well, GuyDude, how do you plan to do this with a GIRLFRIEND?!” He first says he doesn’t have a girlfriend. So who the frack am I looking at then?

In GuyDude’s version of life: his ex who is suicidal and has tried to kill herself 3 times after he broke up. And since they were friends and still friends, he thought it would help if he just pretended to still be with her.


Everyone, please be on the lookout for a Truck of Stupid I apparently fell off of. It’s dangerous. Shoddy brakes.

What I imagine a truck of stupid looks like. Probably filled with Nazis. And clowns.

Of course I replied with wide-eyed innocence “oh poor girl, poo poo,” and some other such nonsense. And then dropped: but I don’t get involved with guys that are already involved. Period. End sentence. End thought.

Even my footsies are off-limits.

So, there’s that. And so I went back to online fishing and caught myself… A stalker. Shoot, dagnabbit!

I should have known that it was a bad idea to even entertain someone that would call themselves White Chocolate.

It’s like a softer version of Pretty Fly for a White Guy.

Exactly. Shame.

So this dude tells me his life story in like 3 messages. But I ignore the eagerness (or THIRST if I’m using new kids slang-crap that makes sound old) and give the dude my personal contact information. He then proceeds in a 24 hour period to contact me almost every hour. And not just a text, oh no. Each time I get a phone call (which I asked him NOT to do at that time), a voicemail, a text, and then an email on the dating website.

Are we for serious here?

This goes on all night, and then all the next day while I’m at work. I send him a text saying I will contact him after work, hoping that will back him off a bit, but he KEEPS sending messages! When I get home I finally call him to tell him just how much I am irritated by his utter rudeness and clingy-ness.

He doesn’t get it.

I ask him if that’s worked for him in the past with chicks, since it obviously hasn’t if he’s on a dating website (yes, kinda hypocritical since I’m on the same site, but dangit I’m pissed).

And I thought he finally got it, that any interest that I had was gone, especially after blocking him on the dating site… That was about a week or so ago. Today I had sent a nasty message to tell him to stop messaging me “Good Morning Sweetheart. I hope you have a beautiful day.” I would have a frackin beautiful day if he would stop calling me pet names like we’re that familiar with each other, and if he’d just go away!!!

The icing on the cake? He had the nerve to say I should have said something in the beginning, and called me fake.

The sprinkles on top of the icing of this bad moldy cake? I check his profile before I block him… This ahole doesn’t have a job.


Gots to be more careful looking at these profiles. And my Facebook friends.


My Couch is My Boyfriend… Oh God, Either I’m Becoming Really Weird or Pathetic

So, when I come home after work, I throw my bag down and instead of getting out of uniform, I run right to my couch. Of course, that’s where my laptop is and yes, I may have a small internet addiction, but that’s not it. On weekends, Fridays where I don’t go out. I fall asleep on my couch. The Monster Teen has learned not to try to make me go to my room. He just turns off all the lights. I have a pillow and blanket there.

My couch is my inanimate boyfriend. I name him forever more… Hector.

This is not Hector. Hector is more handsome in a solid sage green. And he’s bigger. Bigger is better when it comes to my sofa Hector.

Hector is there for me. We sit comfortably together. He doesn’t tell me I’m fat (even though I’ve lost over 25 pounds in the past 2 months, go me!). Hector doesn’t care if I decide to hang with him in PJs, unbrushed teeth, and my hair a mess with no makeup. Hector is the PERFECT inanimate boyfriend.

He’s not like my bed. Cold and empty because my picky butt still hasn’t found someone I’m willing to share it with, no matter how many online dating sites I join.

Oh god, its depressingly hilarious that I have a closer relationship with a frackin couch than any man right now.

For that reason, I’m going out on a date today with someone who while attractive, may be just trying to see the dimensionthe5th knickers color. But, as much as Hector means to me, this relationship is bad for my mental health!