Clocks and Arrows

Many times I've been told that love is not so much a matter of fate as that of timing. It's all about the when, not the who (that handsome or not quite that handsome but oh so sweet guy), not the why (he's so funny, charming, brilliant blah blah), not the where (oh the scenic backdrop to this fantasy must be something that either contradicts it or compliments it perfectly!), just the when. This perfect timing either refers to a particular point in your life where you're more likely to want a relationship, a particular seasoned age or in my case it could refer to a particular time of the day (read: when I'm full of food and happy).

Mostly though, I think it refers to when the readiness of both involved parties are totally in sync. You're there? Oh shit well so am I. Let's do this. Basically. Otherwise we find ourselves in situations where we are completely exposed and vulnerable and likely to be shut. the. fuck. down. There has probably been at least one instance in your life where you put yourself out there for someone telling them how you feel and they either straight up rejected you or let you down nice and easy. And up until that point you were always of the "Just take a chance" mentality. Funny how the information we receive all comes back to us based on our situation at the time. When you're gearing up to tell this person how you feel (la vie en rose!) you remember things like "It's better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all" and "wear your heart on your sleeve" and the list goes on. You tell yourself, "what's the worst that could happen right?" then you say how you feel, the compulsory awkward silence progresses into you feeling like you may be experiencing a heart attack and then...words. None of which you want to hear but at least you know you're not indeed deaf from the silence right? And when you do start remembering how to speak the English language you start feeling the weight of this monumental rejection all but turning you into a pulpy mass of your former self. In short - the worst that could happen has indeed happened. Uppercut.

Suddenly you remember the wise words of the prophets Pharcyde who said, "I guess a twinkle in her eye is just a twinkle in her eye." These and other relevant words which you've unconsciously recited time and time again suddenly begin reinforcing themselves in your memory. Too late. I've come to the realisation that this can all be traced back to the things we were taught growing up. We are at once being encouraged to be brave and be careful. To be open and be guarded. As such, we often mix shit up. We're careful when we should be brave and sometimes brave when we should have a seat. The same applies to love; you're too careful and you let an amazing person come in and walk right out of your life. You can never go back. And will likely never learn. Then you take a chance and fall flat on your face. Oh why wasn't I more careful that one time and save myself some teeth? And this will be the case again and again until yet another potential mishap happens at just the right time and then...tah-dah! Love.

Mark Twain said, "It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so."

It's all just a hit and miss, not so?

Your miss-miss-misser,


Image from Andertoons.com


Shit Mark Says: Take One

This is just a little look into the reasons why my friends are extraordinary (read: marginally sane and AMAZING) human beings without whom my life would be a meaningless and humour-free existence. My partner in shenanigan crime Mark and I, aka Probs and Mayhem, were out last night at it again. Nothing but ruckus trolling around the city mixing more drinks than we should have. Good times. Along the way I decided I should share with the world some of the ridiculous shit this clown says to me regularly. Keep in mind, everything he says below happened within 24hrs.

On film and literature:

"You should get this book 'The Love Dictionary.' I highly recommend it. Oh and also watch 'The Troll Hunter'! I would give up good head any day for those two things."

On kah-rah-taaaay and fight tactics:

"We should wear masks like ninjas. Definitely."

"You should just be like, kick..." *demonstrates and accidentally kicks a guy who's walking past just then* Kicked him. Swear.

On music:

Me: "I wanna learn to play the guitar. I'll be much less impressed with these niggas when I do. Like, 'Oh you play the guitar? Me too so gftoh.'"

Mark: "That's a good idea. Clouding your mind with some wood and a few strings. Smh."

On my taste in men:

"Really? That nigga is one chromosome away from being a woman."

Me: -_-

On becoming ex-pats:

"We can't be in New York together. Ever. We'll get arrested. We'll get deported."

And there you have it.

Your keeper of the worst good company,



6 Signs You Need More Estrogen In Your Life

Allow me to preface this by saying that if you know me/this blog you know that this is in no way going to be a scientific breakdown of the effects estrogen - or lack thereof - has on your life. If you're looking for science find a book. This is about me maybe morphing into a penis-less man (The best kind! Oh wait...). For whatever reason this year I have been surrounded by my male friends much more than my female ones. I don't know why and I actually don't mind it at all, the interactions are less complicated and I save myself a lot of explanation but this isn't to say that I don't love the banter with my girlfriends. I am however, noticing some side effects of said increase in male interaction.

Here is my list of 6 things to look out for as indicators that you need more girlfriends.

1. Increase in Food Consumption
Guys eat. A lot. And a lot of crap at that. With girlfriends you tend to make more conscious decisions about what you put into your system which is usually limited to home-cooked meals, salads, Subway and cute cocktail parties. I love food a whole lot as I have previously expressed, but this is a major issue with me because exercise and I have been back and forth in a ridiculous beef like Common and Drake. Sigh. I guess we need to squash this amicably before it gets real gully. And by 'it' I mean my ass.

2. Birds Town and Birds All Around
Every girl I know and have ever known is now a 'bird'. Even if I don't say it out loud, in my mind I'm thinking, "What's this bird going on about now?" I shit you not. This is because my guy friends address girls as such when we discuss them. It's too hard to keep up with names and such ya know?

3. Dick Repellent
This is actually a great thing for where I am right now but if ever I was in doubt of a man's power to cock-block it was confirmed on Wednesday at an event. He didn't even need to say a word, touch me, nothing. Just the fact that he was there ensured that all other men stayed away because let's face it - it's a crazy ass world we live in. Better to assume that's my man than chance it because niggas be trippin out. Which brings me to...

4. Bitches Be Trippin'
I literally cannot stop saying this. In part because of my friends but also because it's soooo true! To hear the shit that we birds women do recounted to me by a guy makes us all seem like the most ridiculous, irrational ass creatures God ever thought of. I mean really, the whole going through the phone, Facebook screenings and whatnot - been there done that, never doing that again - and really we all need to stop that shit. Stop trippin' birds bitches! Do it for me so I can't truthfully say this.

5. Ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass
If you know ANY man, I need not say more.

That being said, this also engages me in some slight lesbianism. Just a smidge. I'm not personally courting any females so don't exert too much energy raising a judgemental/sexually stimulated brow. You know how guy friends are always looking for the bird girl of their dreams and shit? Well I sometimes feel that I can locate said bird girl and so I find myself actually scoping birds girls for them as if I'm gonna walk up to this bird girl and say, "Hey, I have the man of your dreams do you want him?" Smh. Fem shit.

6. Talking About It
"It". As in the way you used to say sex before you passed through puberty and assumed you were grown. I don't actually believe it's quite so simple to dismiss the myth that men think about sex all day. This is because I have witnessed with my very eyes and ears that they do - in some way or another - tend to think about sexual interactions VERY often. If it's not covert then it's blatant but either way, it's there. And now, 'it' is always on my mind as well. Look at that guy's back... Ooh look at that guy's lips that look like... That smile could easily spread... Mhmm. Thanks for the dick repellent though guys. Comes in handy.

Your girl in need of girls,


Image from cartoonstock


Introducing Dolce

A couple of weeks ago a friend of mine found a stray that she decided to put into a box and label "for Ally". Not literally but I got the call that she had this amazing splendid specimen of a kitten for me. Initially I was under the impression that we would "share" the cat but that was quickly clarified. So there I was with a teeny tiny flea infested starving kitten who was afraid of wind and made noise for no reason. Le sigh (as they say).

Within the first few days she turned my new gold and cocoa curtains into a restroom, peed on the couch, peed on the phone, peed on the floor of my entertainment room and continued to pee until I decided to be proactive and stop feeding her liquids altogether because the shit was getting ridiculous. No not really, but I put her ass in the porch. She got a nice little basket to sleep in, food on a regular and only gets let inside after I've witnessed some kind of excretion. That part is serious. No really - cleaning up after a cat is NO fun.

After the first week the little runt grew on me. She was supposed to be handed over to a cousin but I'm too far gone. I decided to stop calling her Cat and give her a real name. Since I'm not Audrey Hepburn. She's now known as Metta World Peace (How ridiculous is Ron Artest with that shit? My bro and I are almost seizing when we hear the commentators call him that. Yes, they actually have to call him that!). But I digress, her real name is Dolce. Which is a man's name yes, but a gay man so I think it now qualifies as unisex.

Currently Dolce enjoys lounging on the carpet, the couch, my bed and naps in her basket.

She also enjoys horse play and has inflicted me with several puncture wounds on my toes and fingers. Case in point:

I don't make it a habit of takin strays into ma house at all (disclaimer: this is not limited to animals) but...I'm experiencing a change of heart with this one.

Your yet-to-be-confirmed-as-crazy cat lady,


Image from: crazytownmayor.com


Thrills Sans Pills

Getting my thoughts sorted and analysed by my secretary (read: therapist) has been awesome for the whole two sessions we've had so far. A whole two. I'm cured! Remember when I said I was afraid of becoming one of those "my therapist said" people? Well I haven't become one of those only because I'm far too preoccupied having discussions in my head about what my therapist would say about things I'm doing or worse - the shit that I think about doing. I'm on the fence as to whether that's better or even worse than what I was afraid of becoming to begin with.

I walk into her office and immediately the logical and more articulate version of myself decides to make an appearance. This woman must see that I am in fact not crazy and therefore seeing her recreationally to give her my money because I ball so hard. As I sit on the chair to face her, the disrespectful, cussin, brutally honest side of myself just decides to take a seat next to me and snicker while Doc marvels at my maturity and understanding. True story. I mean what kind of person would she think I was if I said, "blah blah blah and when he said that I wanted to reach through the phone and slap him hard enough to make his head spin because that's real fuckery." She may faint. Or die. And I'm sadly ill-equipped to handle that type of stress. Clearly, I'm seeing her for a reason.

Right now our relationship is a similar sensation to getting a new bff - any and everything that happens makes me think 'Ooohh I can't wait to tell Doc about thisssss.' I wonder if that happens to everyone...

Your psych convert,


toon from: writerunboxed.com


Shit Girls Say And Other Shit That Was Said

Unless you live under a rock you're familiar with the 'Shit x say' trend in viral videos. Insert whatever you want at 'x' and it's probably been done. It all started with Shit Girls Say and bring on the parodies thereafter. In all the mele there are a few videos I've come across that have literally left me either laughing hysterically or in tears. Seriously though, don't watch these back to back, you may die (DISCLAIMER).

1. Shit Caribbean Moms Say
Of course being a Trini, I had to start with this one. "DOH-TISH!"

2. Shit Fashion Girls Say
Being a fashion girl myself I can say I've found myself saying some of this shit from time to time. It just happens. I tweet and do net research on brands and designers all day and it really is kind of taxing but this is just hilarious.

3. Shit Single Girls Say
I've heard this so many times and said some of this too. But I'm glad the girls in my circle don't go on like this. Way to get an instantaneous slap from me.

4. Shit Liza Minelli Says
I have often thought about how hilarious it must be to be a fly on Liza Minelli's shoulder as she just lives her life. What a class act that one.

5. Shit White Girls Say...To Black Girls
I can't understand why people would see this as racist. It's simple facts. You know how many white girls have walked up to me and touched my hair? Just asking because I've lost count. But seriously, there are black girls with long hair who don't wear weave but that doesn't mean you have permission to touch my head. She got every reference right.

I've been thinking of doing one myself but I have so many ideas it's hard to keep up with which one hasn't been done yet. We'll see how that goes. Hope this made you smile today!

Your blogging comedienne,