Hope Leslie Single

In the time this blog has been MIA I’ve lost: every single cent I had saved in the bank, the man I love, my car, half my hair (After five years avoiding, I had a battle with a bottle of relaxer. The relaxer one.), every single word I had written to this blog in what I’m calling the great “unaffordable hosting debacle of 2011″, another year of life and, nearly, my mind. But, I’m still bangin’ bitches. I’m still bangin’… (more…)

I need to feel better. I need to feel good. Remember that scene in Monster’s Ball? When P Diddy’s character was put to death and Halle was with what’s his face wearing the lace front wig that was married to Angelina Jolie in real life and had those blood-filled vials and he took her Halle’s character’s boobies out and then she was all ‘MAKE ME FEEL GOOOOOOOOOOOD!””.

Ya, kinda like that.”

FRACK ALL TO HECKFIRE if Sunkist isn’t the shit. It’s like someone mixed sugar, orgasms and bubble baths, carbonated it and put it in a pretty orange can.

It does bother me I tend to have these thoughts so often, when all I really want to do is think about penis and beer and the upcoming season of 30 Rock.

When I needed men, they weren’t really there in the capacity with which I needed them. And, now that I would like one around, they serve no real purpose in my life because I’ve had to assume their roles in my life on my own.

The important thing in all of this is that I haven’t ended up in bed with anyone I could give two shits about.

I won’t coo all in your ear and stroke your male ego because I haven’t had the time to cultivate such skills. I’m not one of those girly girls. I’ve been too busy just surviving this rat race we call life.

I have every day to remind me that I have someone amazing, special, attractive, intelligent, engaging, sincere, caring, witty, ecclectic magnanamious, sexy and passionate in my life. I look at her every day in the mirror and I love her.

You insinuate I’m a whore, I’ll just shrug and probably agree. You insinuate I can’t write and I’ll wanna take off my earrings, pull my hair up in a bun, smear my face with Vaseline, go outside and go at it ghetto style.

Life is always lonely. We just fool ourselves to believe it isn’t. Aside from the “we come in and leave alone” obviousness, we fill our lives with specific interactions to fill the loneliness that is always there. And love is the biggest interaction… or distraction… there is.