About our date …

About our date this Friday, do you mind if I bring my girlfriend?

While working on campus on day, a nice looking man came in for tutoring.  He had the nicest skin; the clearest, bluest eyes I have ever seen; and a very sexy accent to go along with it.  He was from Germany and his mother is French.  When he came in to be tutored, I immediately set my sights on him.  After my flirting was reciprocated, digits were exchanged.  We chatted over text the next day, and it was then that he asked me to dinner that Friday.  Silly me for thinking that was date that solely involved the two of us??  That Wednesday evening, I texted him about something pertaining to academics.  I wanted him to proofread a paper that I wrote in French for an exam I was about to take.  When I texted him to see if he minded looking it over on Friday before or after dinner, he said that he would do it, and that it wouldn’t be a problem.  He then followed up with the text, “About our date this Friday, do you mind if I bring my girlfriend?”  My mouth dropped upon reading, and all I could do was shake my head and laugh.  This might not be “needless to say;” so I will go ahead and say it, that was our last conversation via technology or in person…Um hello, I can pull my own ladies thank you very much!

FPOTUS-You Won’t Get My Vote

The term POTUS is an acronym for president of the United States.  This is the story of someone who I like to refer to as, FPOTUS, the F standing for “future.”

A few semesters ago, I had this professor that had a teaching style reminiscent of teaching third graders.  We each had to do a presentation entitled, “Something About Me,” and it required us to share personal information about ourselves to the class.  It was during FPOTUS’ presentation that I learned of his political career goals.  As a fan of political science, naturally, I was intrigued when he shared that he works for a United States Senator.  FPOTUS is a fine gentleman with impeccable style and an air of sophistication.  Upon a quick analysis of him during his speech, I decided to get to know him better; you know, as a political strategy.  Up until very recently when my phone got stolen, I was very interested in a potential career in politics.  However, after my phone got stolen with all of that “exposure” if you will, inside of my device, I knew then that was no possible future for me in politics. The story of FPOTUS begins in Pre-I Lost My Phone and Career in Politics, thus my political aspirations were still alive.  I went into this undertaking with my own motives; but as the story continued, I ended up getting more, or less than I bargained for…depending on how you look at it, half empty, half full.

After the day of his presentation I set my sights on him.  I started to say “hello” every day and blatantly stare him up and down.  One day, I just started to sit next to him every lecture until a few weeks went by and I finally made my move.  I got dressed in my most politically correct ensemble, and I sat next to him that class as usual.  When the lecture was over that day I said, “Hey, I remember that you said that you are a Political Science major, right?”  He said he was and I followed up with an, “Oh cool! I’m actually interested in political science myself, and I would love to pick you brain about it over coffee sometime if possible.”  He followed by asking me for my number and telling me we would set something up.  He called me the next day.  During our conversation I told him how much I love to blow trees.  He laughed and told me I had to promise not to tell anyone, but he used to be a “pot head” (his words, I never use the term).  We laughed, had some small talk and ended the conversation.  I skipped class the next day.  I texted him about 10 minutes before class commenced and asked him if he could get any handouts or missed work for me.  He said that he would if I smoked with him.  I texted directions and asked what time I could be expecting him.

When FPOTUS came over that night, we smoked a lot, and talked about ourselves a lot, it was super fun.  We stayed up all night talking until he left for work that morning.  In class later that afternoon, our professor asked me for my homework and I said I was not there the class before.  She told me she was aware of that and asked FPOTUS why he made a big deal about getting my homework if he didn’t give it to me in the first place.  I was completely mortified FOR him and he just mumbled something about how he forgot it.  He waited for me after class and we laughed about how he was over my house the whole night and the purpose was to give me the assignments that I never got!  It was that moment when I knew, he wanted me. And, I definitely wanted to get to know him!  We started hanging out on a regular basis and spending nights together.  Eventually it turned sexual; I was pleasantly surprised considering various things about his genetics which I cannot say because he is popular.  In the midst of all the hanging out that we did, some of it was professional in the sense that we were going to and also sometimes working at government events together.  He is the President of a Student Government group on campus, and he made me a member of the group with the position of Treasurer.  I am not ashamed to say that I am a member of the Independent Party.   However, the student government group was not specific to that party, so don’t try to figure it out based upon that fact.  I was putting in a lot of time doing volunteer work for campaigns and also working with various nonprofits.  At the time, I was super stoked over the thought of having budding government affiliations; it was an exciting time in my life.

There was this really big government dinner that FPOTUS invited me to as his date.  I was not working the dinner with him, he was not working it either, and it was strictly a political dinner party.   I felt so important by being his date; I was wearing an Armani gown and Louboutin heels.  My jewelry was Swarovski.  I was sitting next to a Senator at the dinner party, and it felt wonderful, although I didn’t exactly agree on some of his policies.  I think that this is a well-known fact, but government officials KNOW how to party!  The event was so much fun, and I’m pretty sure at LEAST 90% of the guests were completely wasted.  That night, FPOTUS and I stayed at a swanky hotel on the strip.  That starry night, our bodies intertwined until the sky was rainbowed with gradations of purple, blue, pink and orange.  We shared skin and ideas of what it would be like to have political careers together.  We laughed and talked about how we would change the world, and about how much world peace meant to us.  We were sipping Clicquot Champagne out of the bottle and toasting to things like, “us,” “life,” “amazing connections,”  “politics,” etc. After a beautiful night like that, of course I agreed without question to go and show my support for him when FPOTUS asked me to watch him at a panel for a fraternity that he wanted to rush.  While I was listening to the panel, FPOTUS begins to speak his point which included how hard it is to be a parent and a full-time student.  I was shocked because up until this point, I had not heard of his 3 year old son before.  Normally, this would be a deal breaker for me because I am not a mother, so I would prefer to be with someone who is not yet a father; however in this case, it did not make me cut it off with him.

FPOTUS and I continued to hang out just as much.  There was never any talk of his son.  At this time, the Presidential Election was happening in the very near future.  FPOTUS was very busy and so was I; our conflicting schedules started to take away from our quality time together.  However, we did manage to spend quite a few late nights together.  FPOTUS invited me to another outside event where his boss was speaking/campaigning.  At the event, I remember a young lady entering late.  She was wearing a skintight grey mini-dress, fishnet pantyhose, and black knee-high boots.  She walked past the entire front row to sit next to FPOTUS.  After she sat down next to him, I noticed the necklace ring of dark, I mean DARK hickies around her entire neck.  She was also wearing her hair up in a high bun so that her hicky necklace was visible to everyone.  After seeing her neck, I saw that she and FPOTUS were holding hands!! So, I was at a complete loss regarding understanding why he even invited me to this shit.  Afterwards, I caught up with the two of them.  They were eating together at a table for two, so I walked over there to see what would happen.  I said hello to FPOTUS and introduced myself to his girl.  FPOTUS was tomato red and looking terrified.   Right after I introduced myself, he introduce the woman to me, his GIRLFRIEND.  I said, “Oh, how very nice to meet you (insert wrong name here)!  FPOTUS is such a great guy; you guys are so cute together! How long have ya’ll been dating?”  FPOTUS has his head down at this point; he won’t even look at me.  His girlfriend replied, she told me that they have been together for about 4 years.  At this point, I knew there was no competition, I do not compete with parents; and that it was time for me to cut my losses with FPOTUS.

He ended up calling me a few weeks later about a homework assignment.   About a week after that, he told me that he and his girlfriend had broken up and he wanted to come over and talk.  I allowed him to come to my place as yet another strategy.  This time, I was using FPOTUS as a revenge factor concerning Mr. Principles.  As far as FPOTUS goes, he may be the future POTUS, but I ASSURE you, he wont EVER get MY vote!!! The rest of this story is for another post another day, but as your cliffhanger: what I did to Mr. Principles is shameful, ratchet, disgusting, and utterly demeaning.  I used FPOTUS to do it and to this day, neither of them knows about it.

Leave me alone…

Leave me alone, it’s windy outside!

So today’s outfit consisted of a super cute black skater dress, black back seam pantyhose, and black 90s throwback ankle boots…I got a lot of complements. However, today was unseasonably windy. It was VERY windy today. While on campus at my school, I was strutting to my building as usual….consequently, today’s wind forced me to have to hold the skirt part of my dress down to avoid the “wind up the dress” antics that dear Marilyn made famous in “The Seven Year Itch.” I was doing a good job in the front; but when I walked up a flight of stairs outside, my dress totally came up in the back!! I heard these two guys behind me laughing so I turned around, lifted up my sun glasses, and said, “Leave me alone, it’s windy outside!” The three of us laughed hysterically.

Birthday Blues

In light of my very near upcoming birthday, I am going to disclose the happenings of my somewhat disastrous, highly amusing, and utterly fun birthday weekend last year.  I convinced Robanga to fly halfway across the country with me for my birthday, FOR THE WEEKEND ONLY.  The trip was major for a couple of reasons:

  • We had never flown together before
  • Neither one of us had ever been as far west as we were going on this trip
  • We had less than 72 hours to party
  • I was literary going for the sole purpose of getting some from a recently departed flame

SN: I am ABSOLUTELY terrified of flying.  I grew up in Europe, thus I have been on countless flights.  Though I never really “liked” flying, there is one instance in particular that forever changed flying for me.  The incident that occurred was on a flight from Rota, Spain back to La Maddelena , Sardengna (an island of Italy), where I lived at the time.  Everything was seemed usual on the flight until the oxygen masks came down at the same time that the pressure dropped tremendously in the plane and the plane seemed to be in freefall.  I was flying with my mom and she grabbed my hand and said, “You know how much I love you, right baby?”  I was completely in shock and suddenly the plane darted up and it was like being on a ride where you can’t raise your head off of the headrest. Then we were back at regular altitude and flying smoothly again.  I think the pilot made an error, but it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life!  I haven’t been the same since.

In 2013, my birthday fell on a Friday.  That Thursday night, Robanga drove from North Carolina to Norfolk, Virginia so that we could already be together for our Friday flight that left at 1:00 P.M. from Richmond, Virginia.  She arrived around midnight and there were PLEANTY of party favors going around.  We stayed up ALL night, and I had to go to class at 10:00-10:50 that Friday morning.  The plan was to leave Norfolk immediately after class and drive to Richmond, arriving there in just enough time to make our flight.  Well, due to lack of sleep, I personally was dragging ass, so after class, when I should be in GO mode, I was uber sluggish (not to mention that I ran into a former professor and she wanted to make sure she gave me a birthday button pin to wear on my jacket).  I was walking super slowly to my car and that was the first thing that made us off schedule.  On the way to Richmond, we were passing party favors and I was driving.  The “low fuel” light came on in my car, but I kept driving because we could not afford to waste more time and we only a few exits away from the airport.  Well, we ran out of gas in Henrico County, a Richmond suburb.  The officer was actually really cool once I told him that it was my birthday and we were trying to make our flight.  Oh, I also have to add that I did NOT have my license at the time.  The officer drove me to the nearest gas station and it was packed!!  The officer pulled to the side of the gas station and told me to go wait behind someone that was already at the pump so I could fill my red gas container up.  The man that was already pumping his gas and his uniform told me that he was a Marine.  He looked at me and smiled and told me that he was just going to let me fill my container up on him because he saw my birthday button and he said it was going to be a long time if I had to stand in line, it was so sweet of him!  I thanked him, kissed him on the cheek, filled my container, and proceeded back to the police cruiser I rode in (high out of my mind).  Upon returning to Robanga and my car, we thanked the officer again, asked if we could take pics with him (he declined) and we were now back on our way to the airport and laughing about how bad the gas fiasco actually could have been.

We arrived at the airport where we have to make a mad dash due to the fact that we are in a major time crunch.  Things because serious again when we had to go through airport security because….Robanga definitely had some party favors in her purse.  Nods to airport security for not even second guessing anything about us-Robanga, I, and our favors made it to our plane.  As we were walking to our seats on the plane, I was starting to have major anxiety and I was in tears walking down the aisle..  The last time I flew, it was more durable because it was the first and at that point, the only flight I was able to consume alcohol on.  Naturally, I thought that if I drank on the flight to Atlanta, I would be better able to deal with my fear of flying.  Robanga sat at the window and I in the middle.  The aisle passenger of our row found his seat and looked at me then said, “Nervous, huh?”  I shook my head “yes,” and he sat down and smiled (he was a cutie pie and very stylish).  He introduced himself and offered me a Xanax, which I took from him but discretely put it in my bra to save for another time.  As the flight started takeoff, I began to start acting out/acting crazy.  As soon as alcohol was available inflight, I began to indulge.  I was chatting up the guy next to me and Robanga was growing increasingly irritated with my plane antics.  Two very horrifying things occurred that made me go insane:

  1. We waited for roughly 20 minutes on the tarmac because someone’s food tray came down and would not go back up, causing the FAA to restrict us from flying until the try could be properly secure.
  2. The pilot made an announcement that there were severe storms arond Atlanta and that the FAA had not cleared us for takeoff but that he was going to proceed anyway (this announcement caused looks of panic and confusion on all the visible passengers of the plane that I could see, which in turn made me ABSOLUTELY CRAZY)

By the time we got to the Atlanta airport, our 2 hour layover turned into 30 minutes.  I took that as an opportunity to get some food and more drinks and call my mother.  We found a restaurant and we ordered food and I ordered 3 shots of Belve and a beer as a chaser, finishing my drinks in 10 minutes FLAT.  The next flight was yet another experience….this time, Robanga and I had the same seating and another stranger was sitting next to me on my left.  This guy (I forgot his name) was fresh from Afghanistan; he was a National Guard flying to Texas to see his newborn son for the first time and his wife that he missed dearly.  Before the plane was fully boarded, we decided that we were going to get SMASHED.  As soon as drinks were available,  we started the process.   By this time, I was showing out, Robanga was trying to force herself to sleep, and dude next to me was chatting it up.  We order 9 airplane bottles of liquor a piece and the flight was about 3 hours-a flight attendant cut us off.  However, my drinking partner decided to get up, go to the plane’s rear, find a different flight attendant, and paid her to keep serving us.  At the end of the flight, Robanga was PISSED, I was TRASHED, and instead of standing/lining up to exit the plane, the guy next to me and myself were taking drunken plane selfies in front of everyone, laughing hysterically, talking loudly, and making everyone on the plane feel uncomfortable.  I look so literally and figuratively fucked up in the pictures, I couldn’t even show them to anyone!

Our flight was late concerning the arrival time and the shuttle to the hotel had already stopped running for the night.  We did not realize this right away and in my drunken stupor, I bumped heads with a limo driver.  Somehow we began arguing and he called Robanga stupid so I proceeded to cuss him out.  This led to him giving us a ride to our hotel in his white, beat up, hoopty of a limo that looked like it was bought circa the late 80s.  When we got to our room, we pretty much passed out.

The next day, we kept waking up and discussing what we were going to do; but then, we kept falling back asleep.   Meanwhile, the guy that I was there to see told me that he would get with me at 2:00, then he changed the time to 6:00 and it was not until around 8:00 that this next thing happened:  The guy, he will stay nameless, actually sent his ace and friends over to us and the last time we spoke, around 6:00 P.M., was the last time I talked to him for months!  His ace came over with party favors and two homeboys.   We all started to liven up when the ace left and Robanga and myself were left wondering what in the hell we were about to do.  Luckily, of the two strangers that were left, the driver said he would take us out.  We continue to party a bit at the hotel, and then we all leave to go to his car.  He had a rad ass silver BMW with blood red leather interior.  When we got in the car, he turned it on and one of my most fave 2PAC songs came blasting through the speakers.  It was at that instance that I knew I was about to have a great night.  As we pulled up to the club, I received a pocket call from Mr. Principles.  I listened to the background and I heard two girls laughing, it sounded like they were having a blast.  I told everyone what happened, we all laughed about it, and we went inside.

SN: When I got back to Virginia, I found out that the two girls the accompanied Mr. Principles during the pocket dial was none other than his DC girlfriend (I later had a problem with her when I became VA girlfriend) and Siren, hanging out with him in a hotel behind my back, on my birthday weekend.

The club that we went to was super dope.  We had an awesome time, groups of people we FLOCKING over to us, it was CRAZY!!! I have pictures with a group of girls doing a bachelorette party that I don’t remember.  I have pictures with a group of like 10 dudes that I don’t remember.  I had a slew of pictures with some hood looking dude that I was all over with golds in his mouth from Tennessee somewhere; him, I remember.  There were selfies with randoms, Robanga left her iPhone in one club and SOMEONE ACTUALLY FOUND US AND BROUGHT IT BACK TO HER IN ANOTHER CLUB, party favors galore, sweaty dancing, sloppy kisses, LOTS of screaming, and straight PARTYING.  We had to be at the airport by 5:00A.M. to make our Sunday flight back to VA.  After we left the club, we went back to the room to do last minute packing and pass around more party favors.  One of the dudes we were with whipped out his stuff and offered me some birthday pipe.  Although it was quite appealing, he was a fine fellow, I couldn’t bring myself to say yes on the strength that;  though I was stood up in a major way buy my flame, the stranger was his friend and I just wasn’t going for the “she fucks the crew” kind of look.  We finished our last minute things at the hotel, changed our clothes and headed to the airport.  I took that Xanax and I actually slept on both flights back to Virginia.  By the time we got to Richmond, we were ABSOLUTELY spent.  The drive to Norfolk was AWFUL.  We made it.  It was a weekend to remember for sure.

I share this story a week shy of a year to date.   A lot has since then transpired between the guy I went to see and myself.  We are still in contact, not on a regular basis; but nevertheless, he is like a 9 on the 10scale.  His ranking matters because it’s high enough to make me disregard certain standards that I make lower ranks uphold.  That being said, I’m not opposed to letting him get it again’ actually, he can DEFINITELY get it again, smh.  Also, stay tuned as my and his story does continue…..

Honest Abe

It is no secret that I cannot seem to keep a damn man.  There are times in my life when I make a new “Plan for the Pounce (PP).”  To elaborate, I come up with these sudden ideas of what the next type of guy I will date will be.  So, on one occasion of my new PP, I decide to date someone in the military.  Usually (with the exception of Cali), I don’t wife the military men.  Before I go on, I do not mean this to be offensive in ANY way: I have the UTMOST respect for service members, and I appreciate everything they do and their extreme sacrifices.  I do not know if it is because I come from a military family, my father died on active duty in the Army and my mother is retired Navy; but, I have never desired to become a military wife, nor have I ever desired to have a military husband.  With that cleared up, I feel as though I can continue with this Honest Abe episode of the Breezy Show.  My feelings of military men are that I just want to toot-n-boot: no dating; no serious relationships; no hanging out for long periods of time; and NO marrying, even if it is just for the BAH.  However, something made me go against my grain and want to hook a military man which wasn’t difficult, they’re everywhere around here.  On the night that Siren and I stop being friends, I met Honest Abe at a club, and the story goes like this:

Siren and I went to a club with a man that she had met earlier that day.  it was a Friday night and the plan was for us to drive to New Guy’s house and to ride with him and friend to the club.  Luckily for me, his homeboy wanted to pick up his jumpoff to come to the festivities with us which meant that I didn’t have to entertain him, yay!  What that also meant for me was that I was going to get smashed (not as much as Siren did though, but you will find out) in effort to self medicate as a result of one of the many disputes with Mr. Principles (refer to his mini series).  As a part of the pre-game, Siren and myself share a 5th (750 mL) of Belve before we meet up with New Guy and friends.  We are dressed to impressed and party ready upon our arrival to the meeting house.  New Guy and Wingman along with Siren and I pile into the car and meet up with Wingman’s love interest.  They decide to ride together and Siren gets in the passenger side of New Guy’s car.  We proceed to go to a club and it was NOT my scene but I chose to make the best of it, i.e. see how many digits I can get until we leave.  Shots were flowing, and somehow Siren and I got separated in the midst.  While I was doing my solo thing, I ran into Guilty G and was REALLY going to make my move then!!!!! I had been waiting on my chance FOREVER but that is a different story from a different post.  I walked up to him with confidence exuding from my pores and as I approach him, Siren appears like a bat out of hell and looking VERY disheveled.  She informs me that she had just lost her beloved pink iPhone (which was 3G by the way, LOL) and demands me to help her find it, making me look like her slave…and I was PISSED! I dismissed myself from Greedy G in effort to avoid any further embarrassment and proceeded to get the full story of the phone fiasco from Siren.

As the iPhone story unfolds, my only reaction is to shake my head.  In her bitterly drunkin state, some dude kept asking her for her number and she got fed up so she just gave him her phone instead! Stupid.  Anyhow, I told her that there’s no way we can find it and walked back out to the dance floor.  On my way to the dance floor, I spotted Honest Abe (who is a Navy firefighter) in his fresh button down standing at the bar.  At the time, I just looked, took a mental note, and kept it moving. After I dropped it low and did a jig or two, it was time for another drink.  As I made my way back to the bar, I pass Honest Abe again; this time I offer my sultry smile combined with a seductive wink.  I take two shots of Belve at the bar turn, reapply the MAC, and walk straight over to Honest Abe,  I approach him and start to put my mac down and we exchange numbers.  Right after the digits exchange, Siren finds me again and this time she looks at Honest Abe and says, “she doesn’t want to talk to you she’s with me, leave us alone.”  At this point, I am LIVID.  We have words and end up leaving with New Guy.  As the story goes, she hit me with the lowest blows she could think and I had to cut her off-which is also another post from another time.  Back to Honest Abe and how he got this nickname…..

After going on 3 dates with him, and talking multiple times a day over the course of about 3 weeks, Honest Abe invited me to meet his friends.  The plan was to pregame at his house and then go out on the town to a club.  I was very nervous….so I drank a little bit before I met him at his house.  Once I got there, he presented the biggest bottle of Goose which I was pleasantly surprised with.  I was trying to take my nervous edge off so I kept drinking.  I got completely sloshed, and I mean SLOSHED.  We had kinky, dirty, sloppy sex and then…..I fell asleep.  I passed out before the pregame was even over!!  His friends came to his place as planned, I was shitfaced and sleep in his room, they continued to get fucked up, and everyone (including Honest Abe) went out to the club.  I woke up however long later, head spinning, and ALONE.  I was so confused for a moment but then, I remembered it all…..ooo weee, this was not good!  I got my shit together, texted him, and BOLTED outta there!  He texted me back sometime later and said he wished I would have stayed because he was going to make us breakfast in the morning, cute!  After a few days, I showed my face again and we went on another date and laughed about late date’s antics.

As we continued to date, things became more and more sexual, duh.  While we started getting to know one another more, of course things started to come out, which is normal.  However, Honest Abe’s approach was not normal, mainly because he was honest and upfront about A LOT of things that were simply just better left unsaid, which I will display with these 3 specific examples:

  1. Out of nowhere, he tells me about his ex.  Apparently, he was dating her and things were getting serious before he met me but after she got stationed in Germany.  The reason they broke up is because he didn’t want to do the long distance thing.  He then goes on to inform me that she is not over him and they have phone sex all of the time because she’s obsessed with his dick. ummmm…..???
  2. Ok so, we had been dating for a few more weeks after I found out about the ex in Germany and the phone sex between them.  What can I say? I was intrigued, I love a challenge.  During this time period, he starts frequently talking about how much of a freak he is, which is definitely cool with me-to an extent.  Now I’m just going to be straightforward about the next series of events…I found out some things about the ex because Honest Abe just told me randomly, NOT because I asked but you will soon see why.  He told me she is a Marine and she was always really clingy.  The he told me that she always wants dick pics and phone sex and it’s exhausting because the time difference and whatnot.  The he told me that she likes girls.  Then, one day he told me that he told her about me.  He said that her next question to him was if I was pretty.  He said yes.  She then asked if I have a fat ass.  He said yes.  Then….she wanted to know if she could watch us have sex on the webcam.  I was a bit taken aback from her request and after some faux soul searching and pretend moral analyzing, I consented.  It was SO awkward because his webcam was on a tripod and the angle was crazy.  She kept talking too and she was masturbating but her stuff looked like shriveled up ham and I couldn’t watch.  Oh and also, she got mad when he kissed me and it killed the mood when she started crying.
  3. I know, I know, number 2 is crazy enough but hey, c’est la vie et c’est ma vie.  In the midst of our sexual adventures, Honest Abe decides he wants to explain his sexual desires to me in depth.  So one time while I was, “performing,” he does the most creepy.  I am going to do my best to describe what happened, but your imagination is required.  First off, as a SN: I consider myself to be a freak.  I am very sexually expressive and I like to try new things and there isn’t much that shocks me.  However, let me add that if new horizons in the relationship are about to explored, I need to have a conversation about it first.  Like, what if we need to implement a safe word? What if I never did whatever it is before? What if there is a reason why I can’t do said thing? etc…the point is, any new things, especially far out things, need to be ran by me before they occur-just common courtesy, right?  So back to my performance….., I am going to share something explicit that may change (for good or bad) your opinions about me but, I suck balls, every time.  With that on front street, its easier to explain the situation.  Honest Abe was laying on his back and I was on the floor on my knees (insert visual here).  As I’m doing my thing, he lifts a leg up, props it on my shoulder (the dead skin on the back of his heel was scraping the skin on my deltoid), and scoots his torso to the edge of the bed.  Keep in mind that he has the physique of a linebacker and he is WAY bigger than me, ass included.  So I immediately get scared and confused.  Then in a half moan, half scream, he says, “Put your whole face on my chode.” Uhhhhh…..I was going to start to stutter as I do when I’m nervous andor scared but then his ass cheeks open as he spread his legs and it looked like it was going to envelope my head and suffocate me!  I let out a terrified gasp and THEN as I lifted his leg off me, I started to stutter something about how I had to leave.

You see, I appreciate honestly, I really do.  However, Honest Abe was just so honest about everything, it become an issue for me.  He is crazy and he ended up sending me a sadangrymean text message about how he cared about me and I’m a fucked up person how I left things.  I will never forget the terror of his anus, I won’t ever be talking to him again but if I did the last thing I’d say is, “SAFE WORD.”

“I’m not street…

 I’m not street, I live in a condo.

I was working with two others, one of each gender.  Bella was asked by the male what “trap music” is and she did not answer before he turned his attention to me and said, “I know you know what trap music is [Breezy]…, you’re street;” to which I replied with offense, “I’m not street, I live in a condo!”  As it happens however, I do have the definition for trap music (which I did share), and I would also consider myself a fan.  Also, just in how my life has presented itself, I have happened to become acquainted with many trapsters and have been in countless traps in various places and multiple states (although I dare not directly voice those facts to him). This was a beautiful conversation that deserves to be mentioned! I do like when my multifaceted lifestyle is incorrectly put into perspective by others though, he has no idea if I’m street; and, anybody that knows me, like Bella, knows that I’m just me….street? No. Proper? Nope. I never arrive properly dressed for the streets, nor do I ever dress street, it’s not proper.

Unintentional Groupie

I have never been one to be on groupie status, however, I recently added myself to a local rapper’s groupie list.  Marcello, a 21 year old up-and-coming rapper got me one night.  As my memory serves, it went something like this: on a warm fall night, I went out to a club with Siren.  It was a school night for me, but, I agreed to go out anyway because we were asked to guest judge a DJ battle at a local night spot.  The night was full of free (TOPSHELF OF COURSE) drinks, meaning it was due to get crazy are some point!  The outfit I was rocking got me a lot of unexpected play.  I was getting hit on by the host of the battle; we’ll refer to him a Comic.  Siren was all over Marcello, and his friend brought me a few cold ones (with a crystal CLEAR ulterior motive).  As the night progressed, our inhibitions where in a constant state of retrogress.  Somehow, I made it through the evening at the club unscathed. 

After the event, Siren and I went to our dopeboy’s house.  Trashed, I was waiting outside with another friend for Siren.  I proceeded to go in the house to use the ladies.  Upon returning to my car, I COMPLETELY busted my ass and twisted my ankle (my shoes weren’t hurt in the process though, yay)!  We returned to Siren’s house and lo and behold, Marcello and company knocked on the door.  In this moment, the black lighting of the club is gone and the soft lighting of the house allows for better vision.  In a house full of dudes, we are all coolin/puffin.  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Marcello eyeing me as he moves close to me.  I suppose this is when he starts scoping me out.  Marcello starts asking the usual “getting to know you” questions and we begin a rapport between us.  In the midst of all this, Siren and I decide to “continue to get fucked up.”  This chaos includes a twerking contest followed by the show –and-tell of my and Siren’s (intimately placed) piercings!!  The madness causes the friend of Marcello to act out, leading to his forced departure a little while later.

At the very end of the night, the last ones standing are: myself and Siren, the other third friend mentioned above, and Marcello.  Before I lay it down for the night, I notice my ankle is KILLING me!  I take a look at it, and it is at least TWICE the size it should be (I happened to step too confidently on uneven pavement in a driveway and fell next to my parked car earlier in the evening).  At that moment is when I realize, I need to retreat to the bedroom and chill the fuck out.  Marcello asks if he can come lay with me, and I agree to let him.  While we were in the room, we continue out “getting to know you” surface conversation.  It is in this conversation that I find out he is a rapper and an aspiring musical engineering student.  We chat for a bit more and I tell him I have to go to sleep because I do have class in a matter of a couple of hours.  He was completely respectful.  I mumbled that my ankle hurt and he even asked if I wanted him to rub it (the answer was no).  My phone was dead and he kept asking me to reassure him that I would call him in the future.

SN: Being the weirdo that I am, I frequently laugh and talk in my sleep, especially when I am obliterated—this is one of the MAIN reasons I do not participate in sleepovers, especially with strangers!

At approximately 6:00 A.M. with a class at 10:00, I am not home and I look and feel like death.  I finally end up passing out…IN HIS NOOK!!!!!!!!! (ummmmm GROSS)  But then, after who knows how long, I laughed in my sleep, ugh!  So…it woke him up and he looked at me and said, “Humph, why did you do that?”…..I was MORTIFIED!!!!!!!!! Anyways, we made it through the rest of the morning and I woke up around 8:30.  I had to leave in no longer than 10 minutes because of rush hour traffic.  So when he tried me again by softly kissing the back of my neck and caressing my inner thigh, I turned to him and said, “You have exactly 7 minutes, impress me.”  I still cannot recall if this was to my surprise of not, but Marcello literally POUNDED my shit; when I say “pounded,” I mean, there was absolutely NO finesse!!  It was straight up and down, not even and “in and out” kind of motion (ummm…excuse me sexy, but what part of the game is that shit?).  IT HURT.  He finished, I put on my clothes and dipset. My walk-of-shame consisted of: a borrowed pair of too small of “swim team” shorts that Siren wore in high school, a tank top, and my black patent leather ankle bootie wedge shoes…I couldn’t put pressure on my left ankle so I had to hobble and wobble to my car….NOT my finest moment, but it was absolutely just as hilarious as it was shameful!   Later that day, I texted him to give him my digits as promised; he replied; “ok Boop” <—-(Portsmouth slang?) and, I have not heard from him since.  Siren hit him up cop some trees and he stood us up on that!  In retrospect, I realize I added myself to his groupie list and, I definitely did NOT mean to do THAT!  Sometimes, I hear is wack ass songs on the radio and I wonder to myself what his thoughts are of that night.  Ugh, I made myself a groupie for some worthless wood and you know what, that’s EXACTLY what I get!!  New Rule: no young twenty-somethings and no performers either!

The Triple Threat

THE TRIPLE THREAT:

An Outfit for Any Occasion

                The key to personal style is versatility.  Luckily for us, fashion includes a few classic pieces that will forever be stylish AND that every woman, yes I said it, EVERY woman can pull off.  Style staples include but are not limited to: pencil skirts, cardigans, and wedges.  It is my personal belief that every woman can confidently wear the very same outfit in their own individual way.  The question of the perfect ensemble is answered in the form of wedge shoes, a cardigan, and a pencil skirt.  The fact is that when paired with accessories, the outfit is therefore personalized, creating individuality and personal style.  Wait! Before you run to your fave store ladies, let’s first examine each piece’s role in fashion before I advise you on how to make your own pencil skirt outfit POP.

In Jack Lemmon’s famous line, “Look at that, look how she moves” from the movie Some Like It Hot, he describes seductress Marilyn Monroe dashing through the station wearing an impeccably tailored black pencil skirt in the year of 1959.  The pencil skirt is a product of World War II.  In 1940, the fabulous designer Christian Dior shortened the fabric of its predecessor, the “hobble skirt” of the early 1900s.  As we all know, fashion is history and history does indeed repeat itself.  Dressed up or down, the pencil skirt has been a fashion mainstay since its debut.  The pencil skirt can be found in the fashion industry today despite a slight decline in the 1970s.  Chic as ever, the pencil skirt remains a fashion must-have.

The next article of clothing I would like to examine is the cardigan.  We can thank the 7th Earl of Cardigan from the late 1800s for introducing the cardigan sweater into the mainstream population.  Harvard also deserves kudos for their introduction of the smart yet casual “lettered” cardigan.  The cardigan then gets another update circa 1920 from beloved Coco Chanel with chains and classic lines.  Paired with the poodle skirt form the 1950s, the cardigan was worn by the majority of the female population.  The cardigan can be worn fully buttoned or partially buttoned and it can even look complete when worn fully open, depending on the look the wearer is trying to achieve.

The wedge heel originates in the 1930s.  This delightful heel is a combination of a platform and a traditional high heel.  Iconic designer Salvatore Ferragamo is responsible for the wedge’s creation.  Simply put, the wedge shoe is classic.  Wedges can be THE perfect shoe for EVERY woman.  Wedges can be found in various forms: a sandal, a pump, bootie, boots, the oh-so-popular sneaker, clogs, Mary Janes, T-straps, and oxfords.  Wedges fit the lifestyles of the entire female species.  Take the woman who is not afraid to get down and dirty, she does many activities that ultra-femme dames would consider a nightmare.  This woman would rather sport a chic sneaker rather than a heel.  The sneaker wedge can replace her flat sneaks andor add flare to her wardrobe.  Not difficult to maneuver in, the wedge shoe accommodates her style without compromising her comfort level.  Tolerable for many hours and also considered to be beachpoolside appropriate, the wedge is acceptable in ANY social setting.  Wedge shoes are undoubtedly a wonderful addition to the bombshell style as well.  The wedge shoe can go anywhere from black-tie affairs to your local library.  These shoes are adaptable by everyone no matter their style, so always remember that wedges are a complement.  Armed with a pair of wedges, a woman can feel reassured that even after non-stop partying/walking/dancing/strolling, she will never end up in that dreadful situation where she ends up barefoot hopelessly toting heels in hand…tisk tisk (yes, I am judging you as will the next person to see the bottom of your feet-if that is you, take a sigh of relief, judge yourself, and clean up chica; if that’s not you, tighten up and hide your feet as best you can…no one wants to see how that looks beyond the party lights, trust me).

Now having an overall history of these three key pieces, we can understand how they can all be put together.  No matter if you find that you are conservative or if you consider yourself to be edgy, the pencil skirt/cardigan/wedge shoe combo WILL work for you.  The trick to making this combination work in your favor is accessorizing.  Accessories are what makes you stand out and makes your outfit complete.  Your accessories make your outfit “YOU.”  Accessories make all the difference between what is on the mannequin and what is on you.  A conservative belle may consider the following outfit:

  • A solid color pencil skirt
  • A buttoned up cardigan (collar undershirt optional)
  • A classic colored closed-toe wedge pumps
  • A set of pearl or diamond stud earrings
  • A headband
  • A tennis bracelet
  • Perhaps a dainty anklet
  • Perfectly manicured nails, of course!

The funkier dame may opt for the following option:

  • A vibrant colored pencil skirt
  • An animal print cardigan partially buttoned
  • A solid complementing colored bustier
  • Wedge booties or edgy wedge pumps
  • A cocktail ring
  • A statement necklace or statement earrings (NOT both)
  • A flashy manicure to go with that awesome ring!

The “No Fuss” Gal might like try the following option:

  • A sweat-suit material pencil skirt
  • A fitted cotton t-shirt (crisp and white is my personal favorite aesthetically)
  • An open or closed solid or print cardigan
  • Wedge sneakers
  • Minimal jewelry
  • Natural, well manicured nails

Whether you prefer to channel Jacky O or you’re more of a Marilyn Monroe type of lady, this trio belongs in your closet!  Every fearless woman can feel their best in the pencil/cardigan/wedge outfit,the trio is essential for everyday fashion.  To sum it all up, the triple threat is HAUTE!

Francoise…Stylish and Shameless

I occasionally partake in “leaning.”  Although I don’t make it myself, lean is one of my favorite recreational medicines.  One semester, I noticed I had a class with this uber stylish asshole, Francoise.

SN:While I don’t like to discriminate, in my PERSONAL experiences, I tend to clash with northern men

He was from Washington, DC and he has his own clothing line.  in a nutshell, HE HAS STYLE!!!  I never knew that he ever saw that I existed.  He sat in the back of the classroom, and I in the front.  We both missed this particular class quite frequently; and therefore, we rarely came into contact.  However, on those rare days that we were both actually present in our class, we hadn’t had the opportunity to converse.  So, you could imagine my surprise when he defended during a misunderstanding I had with our professor one day.

After the awkwardness of that day passed, he walked me to my car.  We chatted a bit and he told me that he likes my style (you know you give a girl like me a compliment on her style and you now have and “in”).  But, a discerning tidbit is  that he kept asking me numerous times if I used to be bigger; and, he continually asked me if I had stretchmarks (I found this to be very weird, and extremely uncomfortable).  Not too long into our journey from the classroom, he offered me some dirty sprite (lean) and I happily obliged.  He then proceeded to tell me that he sells lean by the bottle…..which I thought was SO awesome!  We got to my car and then we exchanged numbers.

A few days later, Francoise approached me for a ride in exchange for some chronic.  I agreed and the mission was to take him to go fill some scripts for his lean.  We smoked on the way to complete his errands.  I was in-between classes and had to be back on campus for my night class.  He invited me over to his dorm after my class and I told him that I would see him later.  However, I didn’t keep my word on that.  Later in the week, he invited me over again after our afternoon class, I agreed and followed him to his dorm.  We smoked a blunt and chit chatted.  Then, every so expectantly, he started making his moves on me.  At the time, I was in-fact very seriously celibate.  I was at a standstill with Cali; and, I wan’t sure where our relationship was or if there was even a sort of relationship at all. Also, I don’t even know this guy worth anything. Francoise kept asking me why I was celibate and every time I explain it to him, he sucked his teeth in an irritated fashion, it was like he was surprised I declined and as though he had never been rejected before.  We were mid-blunt when he put on porn and started feeling around my wait area.  I simply looked at him, rolled my eyes, and reiterated to him that I am not sexually active at the moment.  He got a flash of anger in his face and quite assertively replied, “Alright then, you can get out”.  I stood right up like a robot and waled over to the door as he escorted me.

Suddenly, I heard the door SLAM directly behind me, I’m not even sure if my ass was even completely out of the doorway!  I was definitely like “wowwwwwww.”  To top everything off, it was my first cameo in the dorms and I had NO clue hoe to get around.  My afternoon walk-of-shame ended up lasting close to an hour, UGH!!!  Ok, so then, I FINALLY find my way to the exit when I see that as a security measure, the only way out is with some code!!!! So then, I had to stand there at the door until someone that lives there came to my aid; that took another 15 minutes to happen.  After standing in the summer heat and ashamed of the situation, a group of girls came to the door and punched in their code.  I hauled ass out of there and never talked to Francoise again; until, the semester after that one, he spotted me on campus, grabbed my ass from behind, and said, “Give me your number”.  I turned around, smirked, said “hmph” turned back around, and kept it moving, with my new-found dignity in tote.