It’s Saturday night and you’re cradling the jumbo bag of Doritos, remote in hand with enough empty beer bottles to start your own booth at the next fair. You ask yourself the same old question. “What does she see in him?” Is he really smoother than a fresh jar of Skippy?
The answer is much more simple than you think. You see, “He” is confident. He believes in himself. Sure you have a great job, nice car and maybe even own your own home. You sound like a great catch on paper. The problem is mating instincts are primal. Ever wonder why big booties are all the rage? The answer is birthing hips. See, it’s primal. Logic has no place in the dating world.
Choosing a mate is rarely ever done with careful planning. Something in our hardwire tells us to find the one we would do battle with. If you’re going to wage a war on this thing called life you choose the mate with confident stance and sword drawn. He is a bit narcissistic but never needs coddling. This is a recipe for disaster should wedding bells ring but she is not thinking that far ahead. Honestly, she is not thinking at all. Something in her center draws her to him like bears to honey.
Your answer in a nutshell: Confidence is sexy. So, ditch the Netflix and hit the gym. Throw on some leather, rev your engine and grunt. This is why she dates the “Bad Boys”.
*All above opinions have not been scientifically researched nor proven to be true. Said scientists were last seen in the gym flexing and grunting.
Daily Prompt: Smooth
Pearl: There’s a dog across the street! GO AWAY BLACK DOG!
Me: Pearl hush.
Pearl: DAWG! BLACK! ACROSS THE STREET! DO SOMETHING!
Me: Pearl, he’s not even in our yard. Calm down.
Pearl: He’s PEEING! Oh my dawg! He’s peeing across the street and you’re just sitting there like you don’t have a care in the world. WHAT KIND OF MOTHER ARE YOU?
Me: Pearl, quit yelling at me. He’s not hurting anything.
Pearl: How can you say that? He has left pee mail everywhere. Quick! Get me some water! I gotta make more pee.
Me: You’re joking right?
Pearl: Does this look like my happy face? I’ve got lots of work to do now. The pee mail is all wrong.
*10 minutes later*
Pearl: So you see Officer, I obviously had no choice. My legs are only 4 inches long so it’s hard to pee that high. She could have easily helped with the pee mail but would she? NO! Besides, just look at my precious little paws. Do these look like the kind of paws that could have tied her shoe laces together and watched her drop like a rock? I THINK NOT! (You should paw print Jasper though. He has beady eyes.)
Meet Ted. E. Bear. He lives above my mantel with two of his friends. Do you ever wonder who the first guy was to stuff a dead animal and bring it in the house? How did that conversation even happen?
“Hey Bobby Jack, I just kilt this here critter and I was a thinkin. It aint good enough to just eat the meat. Lets stuff this sucker and hang his head on the wall.”
How did Bobby Jack talk his wife into letting him do this? “Now Ethel, you know you’re meaner than an Ol’ snake and I just thought it be right nice to have a happy face in this house.”
I’m pretty sure it’s a requirement to keep dead things in the house when you live in Arkansas. It only turns strange when you start to dress them up. Ok, so Ted does enjoy his santa hat at Christmas and has been known to wear garland like a feather boa.
Where do we go from here? Next thing you know we’ll be stuffin’ Uncle Earl and settin’ him at the dinner table.
What are you doing? You’re reading this aren’t you. Someone will know. You’re such a rebel. Rule breaker! You might as well keep going now. I feel I must tell you though, these are minutes of your life that you can’t get back. Somewhere in your heart you just know there will be a life changing bit of knowledge in here. Your vested now. There is no turning back.
DON’T SCROLL DOWN! Didn’t think I would notice you skipping ahead? Seriously, can you just try to be good for once.
Ok, so here it is. Shame, failure, my little secret. I saw a post on facebook that said “If you love your Mother, share this post in 2 seconds.” I didn’t do it. I didn’t. I hesitated. Then I just didn’t do it. I know, how do I sleep at night? Yesterday I didn’t love Jesus in 10 seconds. How do I live with myself? How can I go on with this sham I’m living?
Will I burn in hell now? Is there hope for my recovery? I fear I may have crossed a line that I cannot return from. If you see my vacant soul roaming the streets please return it to my husband. He is hungry and out of clean undies now.
Things I learned today:
- A 9.5 foot kayak will fit in my car.
- Windshields’ don’t budge when shoving 9.5 foot kayaks in your car.
- Never listen to my husband.
Me: Do you think it’s safe to drive like this?
Husband: Why sure, you’ll just get a bit of wind that’s all.
Me: Ok, if you say so.
Husband: When you get home put mine in there too.
Husband: Really, it will fit.
Me: Pearl, you have to lose some weight.
Pearl: What’s weight? I don’t want to lose anything. Old people lose stuff and I’m not old.
Me: Pearl, I’m telling you the vet says you’re fat. You are 2 pounds over weight.
Pearl: VET? That man is crazy. You’re taking advice from a man who puts sticks in my butt and pokes around on me?
Me: It’s for your own good. He is simply checking your health.
Pearl: FINE! Next time let him put sticks in your butt.
Me: The Vet can’t put…. oh dear..
Pearl: See! The man is crazy.
Me: But Pearl, you can get arthritis from being over weight.
Pearl: Kool! I’ve never had an arthritis before. Does it taste like chicken?
Me: NO! Arthritis is pain in your joints. It is not food.
Pearl: Well, why on earth would you want to give me arthritis then? That’s it! That’s the last time you’re hanging around that crazy Vet. He puts the strangest ideas into your head.
Me: No Pearl, you have to stop eating so much food or you will get arthritis.
Pearl: I’ll just refuse to take it. I don’t want arthritis so I’ll just say no when that crazy Vet tries to give it to me. It’s probably on them white sticks he tries to put in my butt.
Me: Why do I bother?
Pearl: I don’t know but we need to hurry cause it’s happy hour at Sonic and I need my banana taffy slushee.
I like to scream to relieve stress. It freaks out the callers a bit but they should know better than to call when I’m busy. I’m learning to organize better though. I have piles for everything. There’s the “Got more problems than I got time for” pile. The “Doable and hope to get to real soon” pile. The “They want me to do some extra stuff” pile. And of course the “This is what’s in front of me so I’m gonna work on this” pile.
I started with sticky notes everywhere and I’ve upgraded to copy paper covered in “URGENT” notes. “Can not forget these things.”
Never fear though, I can do anything. I actually really like this job. It’s just that I spend most days chasing my own tail. I feel like a squirrel on espresso.
I was watching a video this morning when this occurred to me. Why do Caucasian gals think we’re supposed to look like toothpicks yet African American girls are perfectly fine with the junk in their trunk? I wonder if my inner Shameka is coming out as I get older. Can I just change my reasoning and be comfortable in my own skin? OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOhhh, If Shameka does come out will I suddenly be able to dance?
What if Shameka and my alter ego Sabrina don’t get along? Hmm…. They can fight that out with Mr. Shrink.
Yes, I know. This post is full of stereotypes but the truth is. I can’t dance and I’m too fat to be a white girl anymore. I’m thinking about changing races.
Securing the perimeter is very serious business.
The ears must be locked and loaded at all times.
Shhh! Did you hear that?? I’m pretty sure it’s an evil kitty.
RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! DID YOU SEE THE SIZE OF THAT THING?