Sir, take your man boob off my shoulder and step back...

You know, I understand that in the morning NY subways tend to get crowded, and I'm ok with that. I also understand that sometimes in the club, it's a little packed and you may brush against someone, again, I get it. What I do not get however, is why people feel it's ok to be so close to someone we swap exponential amounts of DNA. I also don't understand why people, men and women, feel it's ok to take this time to exploooooooore forbidden territory with their hands. LAWD HAMERCY HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MOTHA LOVIN MIND?!?!? I went to the club last weekend with my homies, let's call them Thing 1, Thing 2, and Rasta. Me and Rasta were havin a good time as the ladies of the group, looked good, smelled lovely all those great things. All of a sudden there is an influx of people and we get shoved. This would have been bearable, IF SOMEONE HAD NOT PUT THEIR HAND UP MY DRESS AND TRIED TO MASSAGE MY BUTT CHEEK!!!!!! Thing 1 and Thing 2 had no idea how this happened and I decided it was best to stick near them, for safety sake. Anywhoooooo I then began to dance once more along with Rasta when another crowd comes by and once the squishing has soooomewhat ended, a man starts to dance with me. Now, I use the term dance loosely because what he really tried to do was grind me like I had magic coffee beans hidden somewhere. I tried to walk away, he pulled me back, song ended, he puuuuuuulled me back. By he end of this dance with him trying to rub the skin off of my behind I had such a wedgie think my skivvies were wrapped around my liver. Now you might say "It was a club, lighten up, that's what they do, don't get your panties in a bunch (again)" but no, I cannot lighten up. On the subway, I'm holding the pole after a long day of work, tryyyyying to get home. There's now only standing room left and a man steps onto the train. He then proceeds to glue his man parts to my derrier.....now, my response may have not been the most polite, but it was correct at the time, "Um, excuse me sir, you're humping me, don't know if you noticed, and uh IT NEEDS TO STOP NOW." He looked at me like I was speaking a dead language and shrugged like it was no big deal. I may or may not taken this moment to adjust my purse and elbow him in the belly...gently of course. All I know, is that from now on if people don't start respecting my personal no-no square, the responses are gonna get a lot uglier, and someone is going to lose an appendage.

My Minor Predicament

I have a bit of a spending predicament. I say predicament and not problem because I don’t have a problem, I could quit anytime I want, but I’m not a quitter, I like to continue on even when the going gets tough, case in point, my three new cocktail dresses, three new shirts and jewelry. Now you may ask “Why would you need all these items at once?” And I shall answer you; because of a little thing called the ability to work overtime. I like overtime, mostly because there’s overtime pay involved, I like that most of all, it feeds my addiction, er I mean, my alternative lifestyle. Now, my only downside to the joy of overtime is a few coworkers. You know, there are certain ways I will allow someone to talk to me, and certain ways I will not; some of my coworkers keep stepping into “not” section. “Disclaimer”, if you talk to me like you’re crazy, I will treat you like you’re crazy. Anyway, I tend to work late, especially on projects, and a few individuals keep talking to me like I’m their pet. Pause, I will drop kick you in the throat. I’m usually a sweet individual, but when you mess with my money (i.e. overtime pay/shopping) and/or my reputation, there will be issues, and that is what a very specific fellow did. He 1.cussed at me, 2.raised his voice, 3.cut me off when speaking two times after I told him not to and 4.rolled his eyes the whole time anyone else spoke. He then had the audacity to ask if we could all take 4 hours off of work to run around for research that was supposed to be done already……yea, needless to say I was not pleased. Anywhoooo, I calmly explained why that wasn’t going to work, and may have given him the look and tone that could strip the hair off of a bison in January. It worked, we’re good now, and I got my overtime and my bank account seemed happy….ish. My shopping was pleasant, I found dresses that were gorgeous annnnnnd fit all my loveliness, all was right with the world. Until I woke up the next morning a tad poor, with no groceries (except condiments, fish sticks and a thing of Pinkberry), and no lunch for the week (I looked sexy though in the new tee.) Now I know I should feel concerned, but I’m not, because all I can think of it how fly I’ll look when I step out this weekend, and this isn’t a problem, not at all, just a slight….predicament.

Lesson 1

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You can’t fit 10 pounds of sugar in a 5 pound sack. I learned that this morning as I was getting dressed and tried on a shirt that might have been a teeny tiny little bit too snug. Who am I kidding, this bad boy was so tight you could see arteries and intestines. As I struggled with this shirt and buttoned it over my stomach (I gave up with the chest because I lose more and more buttons that way), I got light headed and fell flat on my amply supplied (ie gorgeous) hind parts. As I tumbled, I said self, someone else needs to hear about this, and not necessarily because I think everyone is so interested in me (though they should be), but because I could never explain the lump and bruise otherwise. Anyhow, that’s what got this blog going. Sometimes you just gotta let people know, and I’ve never been one to keep quite. This isn’t blog about size, but hell my size plays a role in my life and perceptions and it will be reflected in what I say. Sometimes I’ll have videos, sometimes pictures and sometimes just angry rants (I really have a thing for rants and righteous indignation.) You’ll never know what you may find on here, but I promise you, it’ll never be dull.