Watch His Footwork

I go out to enjoy myself and enjoy the nightlife. But every now and then I find a gem to precious to pass up. Watch the man on stage in the black and white shirt. He is giving off pure FEVER. This fat, sweaty white guy is throwing more signs than a Crip hanging out the passenger side window of a cerulean '82 Cutlass Supreme! Watch and be made whole my children.

God Don't Like Ugly Or Burnt Sienna Either

I think that ugly people shouldn't wear earth tones. If you are indeed an ugly person seeking advice, listen to me and listen to me good: DO NOT WEAR BROWN, OLIVE, KHAKI, OR BURNT SIENNA NEAR YOUR FACE! This only makes your skin look drab, brings out the dark circles you already have under your eyes, and makes your teeth look dingy.

I know fall is approaching and natural looking colors of the earth and forest tempt you from department store racks. Please don't fall into temptation. Put your blinders on and let the Lord lead you to the salvation of navy blue, white or shades of gray!

Don't let yourself be a victim. You will only increase the already unsavory reactions people give you based upon your ugliness. Put away those olive and tan dress shirts and diminish your bad luck as much as a merlot colored shirt will allow.
It is so hot I wanna slap somebody. This sweltering heat is ungodly. There is no reason for me to walk out of my house and have my mouth go dry. I shouldn't have to wait 20 minutes for the air in my car to start cooling off because it's 107 degrees and rising.

I thought about going to the pool to cool off, to feel the water swirl around me and engulf me in coolness as engage in a lazy backstroke....BUT NO! What is the point of going in 85 degree water? I guess I can't complain because 85 is a helluva lot cooler than 105!

Even at night there is no break. Last night it was 95 at 10 p.m. Why, Lord, why? Is this our punishment for throwing trash on the ground in giant landfills? I'm saddened. I can't cope, but I should be used to this type of menacing heat by now.

I suppose I'll keep a bottle of 80 degree water by my side at all times in case my mouth goes dry again.

I Should be a [Sterotypical] Jamaican

I've had some interesting jobs in my almost 10 years of being a part of the American workforce. Let's just say I'm not afraid to make a change. Here's a run-down of some of the tricks I've turned for money:
  • Waitress
  • Pizza delivery operator
  • Real estate flier designer
  • Phone survey operator (very close to telemarketing)
  • Temporary cashier
  • Retail sales associate
  • Assistant to the administrative assistant at a casino
  • Part-time retail manager
  • Part-time retail manager (again)
  • Full-time retail manager
  • Retail sales associate
  • Event photographer
  • Book reviewer
  • Beauty product stocker
  • Local magazine intern
  • Cocktail waitress
  • Visual merchandiser
  • Retail sales associate
  • Blogger

Keep in mind that some of these gigs did indeed overlap each other, but not all of them. I know I've skipped around a couple of times when it comes to paying the bills, but I can't work somewhere that's boring. I like a little bit of a change. Some people might call it schizophrenic; I think I've learned or gained something from each place I've worked (no matter how temporary). If all else fails, I can tell you how many slices are in an extra-large pizza.

LLDoc9: Ladies Love Dr. 90210

I enjoy seeing the miracle of plastic fantastic. It's something about the way skin looks so shiny and taut after a procedure that just gives me a jolt of energy. I love how breast tissue stretches to accommodate a cantaloupe-sized saline bubble.

Middle-aged women are the most susceptible to the wonders of augmentation, lifts and tucks. They don't care if the world is afire as a result of global warming as long as their eyelids don't droop. What's the point of an older, more sophisticated lady having perky DDs that would rival her 23-year-old granddaughter if she has osteoporosis; the bragging rights of slender hips if she has poor circulation; or the value of full lips if she has dentures?

My favorite has to be oversized bouncing ball type breasts on women older than 51. Some women go beyond reclaiming what's rightfully theirs and cross the line into porn star territory. I've seen breasts so big that the strip of skin between the breasts that should be attached to her sternum has permanently pulled away from her chest. That has to be my favorite surgery result; a close second to pillow-y swollen upper lips.

Surgical enhancements are situations that easily go very wrong. But who cares as long as the patient loves the outcome and I can laugh, well, only as long as gravity doesn't get the best of me.

Don't Let Water Drip from the Faucet

Photo by Mattox
I've been to the bathroom twice in 30 minutes. I know you don't care to know the intricacies of my bladder impulses, but this is excessive. I'll admit it: I am the shameful owner of an overactive bladder. I can't even have a beer, much less water, with my friends before my bladder starts pressing on the front of my abdomen. I can't concentrate on the valuable things my drunken friends have to say during important impromptu meetings at important the corner booth at our favorite local Cheers. My bladder makes me look like an uncaring friend. A selfish friend. A 'wants-to-get-away-from-her-friends' friend. I'm tired of my bladder ruining my relationships.

I try to shush my gotta pee moments by crossing my legs, walking in a circle, or if it comes down to it: discreetly holding myself. Ok, not very discreetly. In efforts to calm my full bladder, I also refuse to throw my head back in laughter for fear of letting a little water drip out of the faucet. I try to time myself so that a trip to the bathroom comes at a 'natural' getting ready to leave the place, a time that is not in the middle of an intoxicated explanation on the value of Lil' Kim in feminism.

I've failed horribly in my efforts and I've missed the best/funniest/most shocking parts of conversations about things that I wouldn't have remembered anyway.
This is the place where mischief resides.
Compliments of my devil's playground of a mind.