Category Archives: This World Needs An Enema!

300 Mothers

Posted on by
1

People are all up in arms over the “alleged” words of Donald Sterling.  Here in New York City a mini race-riot nearly broke on a Brooklyn bus by a 60 something year old white man who single-handedly attempted to turn back the hands of time when he told a black woman she needed to move to the back of the bus and let him have her seat.  A man who, in the midst of the argument that ensued, out right says Sterling should run for president. When it comes to black and white relations, even now there are times when it all feels as though we are just one lit match from the racial powder keg. These are the things that occupy our news and social media cycles.

But what has garnered my attention the most these past three weeks are nearly three hundred mothers.  The nearly three hundred Nigerian mothers of the girls kidnapped from their school last month and the eleven more stolen from their own homes in the middle of the night in recent days.

Did you know there were more kidnappings?  Here we are three weeks after the initial kidnapping and the U.S., is only now stepping forth with “doing the best we can”. It feels all Okay, fine I’ll do it, as though our involvement now is akin to the petulant child forced to apologize to a sibling for some wrong.  It’s better than doing nothing. It is certainly better than the incompetence that has been the Nigerian Police; the same police who initially did not even want to acknowledge that more kidnappings occurred.

Is it the sense of helplessness, the “what can we do about it?” Is because it’s over there, on another continent and not in our backyards?  Is it because it is happening to Africans by Africans,  a black-on-black crime if you will?  What is at the root of this overall sense of apathetic whatever regarding it? Let’s be honest, if this were nearly 300 little white girls in South Africa, or in any other country been kidnapped as such, the immediate public outcry would be swift and deafening. Why is the world so relatively quiet for Nigeria’s little girls?  It has taken nearly three weeks of a slow building public international pressure for any course of assistance to be offered, action to be put into play. Are nearly 300  little black girls not worthy?

  • Tell that to the mothers who do not know if their girls are already dead.
  • Tell that to the mothers who do not know if their girls are alive, but already parsed out to the human trafficking / sex trade markets as threatened by the leader of the group who masterminded the school kidnapping.
  • And as more time that passes without any of the girls being rescued, tell that to the mothers who do not know if perhaps death is the better option.

This Sunday for those of you who will celebrate Mother’s Day, unless a miracle happens between now and Saturday, take a moment to remember  the nearly 300 mothers across the ocean missing their daughters and acknowledge them. Let’s continue to put pressure on our governments until each and every girl is accounted for.

300

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Hung Up

Posted on by
8

Oh dear me!

As I am walking out the ladies room, a colleague is walking out of the adjacent men’s room. My earring chose that moment to drop  from my ear and we both bent to retrieve it. As we rose I observed that he needed to “XYZ” and whispered such to him.  He was so embarrassed as all get out that he full body slammed into the men’s room door when he spun around to run back in and adjust the issue. Unfortunately, that only made things worse as he bounced off the door causing more of an issue. Guess who now knows that said colleague a) clearly is commando today and b) is hung.

I somehow kept a straight face as I quickly turned to walk away and nearly walked into another co-worker a couple of steps away. By the expression on her face I knew she saw…

“Was that his…?”
“Yup!”
“Really?”
“Yuuuup!”
“Holy….!”
“Hamm as in Jon?”

The same male colleague exits the men’s room again, everything now in its proper place this time. He sees us standing there, clearly knowing what’s being discussed and all but runs down the corridor to get away.

My co-worker nods, still clearly impressed by the glimpse she saw earlier. Then looks at me rolling her eyes at the bad Jon Hamm joke reference. “That’s so cheesy, you can do better than that.”

“Perhaps” I nod grinning, “but now I think I want croque monsieur for lunch.”

<>==========<>==========<>

Let see how others are slicing stories up at Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two Writing Teachers : Weekly Slice of Life Writing Challenge

Perfect Stranger

Posted on by
5

I do love her still, for she’s still mother
Though oft she calls me by names of others
Her soft eyes remain, shining warm with care
The curves of her body, her graying hair
But her mind now slides from what’s really there

Her concave lips form that familiar smile
Like when she showed off her latest hairstyle
Even with loose curls each strand was in place
Particular to the point of basket case
Never walked out the door without her face

Made a clean home look easy to attain
My haphazard ways were always her bane
It gave her license for years to nitpick
My style she joked was an urban beatnik
But she loves my roast chicken with garlic

Her home now’s not what I thought would occur
But she’d gone beyond my means to help her
After jumping with haste to a rescue
When she tried to melt wax for a fondue
Insists utensils could be eaten too

She’s no longer the mother that I knew
Some days it takes all just to muddle through
I look at her and it’s my face I see
So it’s twice as hard when she looks straight at me,
And then asks ‘And who are you sweetie?’

That I remind her of her little girl
Who fidgets wearing pinafore and curls
She’s the woman that once knew me so well
But if she knows me at all now I can’t tell
Yet I know her deeply, and that’s my hell

Roles reversed, she’s the one whose hair I comb
When I visit her at the nursing home
“See this pin my girl gave me yesterday?”
I was a child, it’s so old in years even I cannot say
But for her, the years time has washed away

Seeing the pin makes me break down in tears
She coos “Oh miss, it can’t be that bad dear”
I fall in the familiar arms of hers
As everything becomes just one big blur
And I cry upon a perfect stranger

The Clothes Make The Man Or Woman

Posted on by
2

So this has been making the rounds of social media:

your_body
Someone recently responded as follows:

It’s a nice idea, but in a world where “the clothes make the man (or woman)”, it’s just not entirely practical to wear whatever in the eff you want, whenever you want, in spite of how it fits or what true messages it conveys. People think they are being individualistic or letting their personality shine or showing confidence with some of the unflattering things they wear, when in reality, they are letting their clothes define them and allowing their true selves to be buried under their latest fashion concoction. In other words, if one wears things that don’t flatter them, people tend to see the clothes (or lack thereof) instead of the person. So there’s my two cents.

I agree, if you are a CEO, you will be perceived as being more respectable and trust worthy in a business suit, than in jeans and a polo shirt, even if the suit is more ill-fitting than the jeans and shirt would be. Does it change how do business if you choose to wear to work because you are more comfortable than in a suit, no. But let’s be honest, how you are now perceived in knowing your business does change and it does matter and thus the suit. Even many  of those in the creative fields, where the rules of dress are very open, will attire themselves in a way more ‘suited’ to the situation, when conducting certain business transactions. We all understand that it is not necessarily fair or practical, or that matter makes sense, it is just the way of business perception.

However, where I disagree is in wearing  what’s flattering. What is flattering on a person is akin to the adage of beauty being in the eye of the beholder. It is very subjective.

Let’s go back in time and check out Cher’s infamous feathered concoction or the swan dress worn by Bjork at the Academy Awards in different years. Both outfits were considered “flattering” to the respective woman, but inappropriate to the occasion. Uh, it was the Oscars, the epitome of the art of movie making – a place where one would think individualism and being different would be celebrated. Yet both women were mocked for being just that – different. There is some mystical point you’re “allowed’ to color outside the lines before the one’s individualism becomes something bane to the sensibility of another. But who gets to decide that line?

Using the recent mini fashion storm with Gabourey Sidibe and the gown she wore at the Golden Globe being the perfect example. Gabourey wore what she wanted showing her individuality. Some loved what she wore and said it fit well. Others hated it and said  she could have worn something more ‘flattering’.  The same arguments pro and con were made of Melissa McCarthy’s gown.   The only persons whose opinion were correct in either case were Gabourey and Melissa’s.

Here is where the point of the post would be truly tested: Lady Victoria Hervey wore a body conscious gown to the Golden Globes after party where the world could see she was naked underneath.  Now Imagine the firestorm that would have erupted had either McCarthy or Sidibe decided she wanted to wear something any where near as sheer and/or revealing. They would not do so because they are very much aware that the fashionistas and especially Twitter would eviscerate them. The issue becomes a) why they will be taken to task for doing the same and b) who are the hell are those who would take them to that task are in the first place to be able to do so with impunity?
====================

Slice of Life Teal

Write, Share, Give: SOLS Time

Verbal Diarrhea Diares: On Bended Knee

Posted on by
1

I’m in Starbucks waiting in line to order a chai latte. I happen to be standing by the fridge unit where the yogurt parfaits, salads, sandwiches et cetra are kept. The line, as usual, is long and formed a curve around.  A guy opposite me on the curve politely says excuse me and ask to look at the items in the fridge.  I’m in line, but I manage to step back a smidgen to give him a better view. When he leans over to visually scan the items and reaches out for something, the back of his hand accidentally brushing against my thigh lightly. He snatches his hand back apologizing profusely.  It’s a small space between me, the person in line in front of me and he in between us, shit happens, I wave him off ignoring him.

Not surprisingly , there’s some sort of traffic jam at the cash registesr and the line doesn’t move for a good two minutes and “shit happens” again.  He is on one knee as he picks up items and puts them back “deciding”.  This is clearly not an accident.  His friend who is still in queue at their original spot, looks at the idiot clearly surprised by his behavior. He glances at me, who is clearly about to catch a case on this mofo, and suddenly becomes interested in a spot on a wall far, far away.  So it’s like that huh? No problem.

I look down at Tweedledumb “Honey, I know I smell good down there, but from that position you either need to get up out of my way, ask for my hand in marriage or commence cunnilingus immediately, your choice.”

He turns beet red, knocking over a basket with various coffees for sale in his haste to stand, much to the amusement of those who heard me, especially his friend who called him an ass and laughed in his face.

“You sure you don’t want to take me up on the last offer?”  I ask as the line finally moves, sparking more snickering.  He quickly shakes his head in the negative and finds that same far off spot his friend found earlier.  Yes, I’m evil.

I place my order and the idiot and his friend wind up waiting together with others for our respective purchases.  I have my earbuds on, but the music is playing low so I can hear when they call my name. I can also hear Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber speaking low off to the side.  Apparently the hand brushes against me were accidental, but he wasn’t going to apologize again until he had stood up.  And while I was being facetious when I said it to him, apparently I really did smell good to him while he was down there. He was trying to decide if it was me or the fruit in the fridge that he smelled when I busted him.

I did not hear the result of his ‘analysis’ as my name was called then, but me being me I just had to have one last word. Chai in hand I whispered as I passed him.

“Your loss, I taste *divine*!”

Repeat: Yes, I’m evil.

<>==========<>==========<>
Slice of Life graphic

Slice of Life Writing Challenge

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: I’ll Be Damned

Posted on by
Reply

.
So, a guy emails me through an online dating site:

“I am going to assume that my profile is too casual/risqué for you, but I thought I’d shoot you a line anyway. (You have a fetching smile.)”

Of course I check out his profile. He states he wants a FWB, not looking for serious dating and is desirous of a woman with intelligence.

Got it – he wants a fuck, just not a dumb one.

My response?

“Hello,

My dentist and I thank you.

“Check you out!” as the kids say, throwing down the gauntlet on the opening play.

If I respond in the negative I come off as looking prudish, yet a positive one is indicative that I am open to only being someone ‘beneficial’. If I am open to such with you, who else have I been beneficial to? Providing I am someone simpatico to your intelligence and views to be worthy of said fornication.

Damned if I do and damned if I do. Fiddley-dee, whatever is a woman to do?

Oh, I can pick up that gauntlet and cyber strike you across the face with it. (Insert emoticon with tongue sticking out here.) [<– Yes, I actually wrote it out as such.]

Ya gonna take that?

Rai”

This is not to say I would or would not go for a roll –or a few- in the hay with him. He is attractive and arrogant and just the sort of ego balloon I like to stick my pins in and pop.

Regardless, one has to prove worthiness of my wrapping these thick juicy thighs around, and that ain’t the way, Bub.

Losing Score

Posted on by
11

.
.
Smoke filled rooms stage the plays
Gyrating bodies form a human maze
The next face may be for always
Looking for true love through the haze

Words barley audible through the din
As if what’s wanted is conversation
And if it doesn’t work tonight, tomorrow try again
It doesn’t take much persuasion

Another night of pretext, a major pretension
A small piece of latex, the true intention

Variations on a theme standing still
The titles change, the players remains
Clubhouse, disco, honky talk, bar & grill
And the morning’s desperation of remembering names

Another night, another chance to explore
Last night found what you were looking for
Hung out, now hung over the cool white throne
This morning finds you still all alone

Smelling of cheap everything, feeling cheaper all the more
Playing a game, that guarantees a losing score

<>==========<>==========<>

dVerse ~ Poets Pub |  OpenLinkNight Week: 125

I’ts Never “Okay”, But…

Posted on by
Reply

Most football fans have finally stopped cheering/grumbling/talking/ about the New York Jets win over the New England Patriots due to the enforcement of a new rule in the NFL that went against the Pats. However, an incident after the game may very well eclipse all the brouhaha over the controversial call.

Videos of a male Jets fan punching a female New England fan have gone viral over the past couple of days.  One of the videos of the altercation starts with the alleged attacker, wearing a Wayne Chrebet (No. 80) Jets jersey, is being pulled away from a fight in progress. It is not clear how the initial altercation began, but a woman, wearing a Patriots T-shirt in the videos, steps forward to confront the alleged attacker and tries to push him, before he responds with a punch to the left side of her head.

If you’re interested in more details of the event, you can Google it. This post is not about the above incident in and of itself, but about the adage that “it is NEVER okay for a man to hit a woman”.

First, let me preface all else I am about to say with the following: It is not acceptable for anyone to hit anyone. Regardless of gender, there should never be an acceptable time for someone to use violence to solve a problem. And please note that I said should. Unfortunately, we do not live in a white knight world and there are certainly exceptions to that rule.

As a mother of two sons (now adults),  I am well aware some women, safely cocooned in the belief that the man will always be considered at fault should he physically hurt her, will use that to their advantage and push, goad, provoke and/or physically attack a man.   Knowing such, I fully admit I could not teach my sons such a hard and fast absolute.

I’ll refer to men/women here because it is easier to use the hetero standard, but this applies regardless of orientation.  People have to realize not all women are defenseless and not all men are necessarily stronger than their partner. On the flip side, the physically smaller partner is not necessarily the weaker one, especially when there is any sort of weapon involved.

If the woman is yelling and screaming – let her.  You know what’s reasonable and what’s not.

If it’s starting to piss you off that you’re even thinking of doing something physical, it’s time for you to either a) leave for an hour or so to call down or b) leave temporarily and consider whether or not it is time to c) leave permanently.

However, if she’s coming at you with a cast iron skillet or a pot of hot cooked grits (some of you will get that reference), and you by that look in her eyes that tells you she means business  – what you both did so wrong that it got to that extreme point and what should be done to fix it, if it can be fixed – can be figured out later – you very much have the right to knock her on her ass, but ONLY ENOUGH FOR YOU TO GET TO SAFETY.

If your partner/significant other/spouse is beating the crap out of you, you should be able to defend yourself enough to get to safety, until the police arrive if necessary, regardless of gender.

When it comes to my sons, the only person allowed to even attempt to take them off this earth is the one who brought them into it, and I have told them as much.

Swinging this back around to the incident on Sunday…

The controversial call that that cost the Patriots the game/gave the Jets was likely the first spark to heated words between the fans.  I’m sure once all the investigation comes out; there likely were copious amount of beer involved on both sides further kindling an already contentious rivalry between both teams and their respective fans.  He (the alleged attacker) is just wrong.

  • Regardless of what kicked-off the initial altercation.
  • Regardless that she was yelling at him and even ran up and tried to push him.
  • Regardless that she was able to just shake it off.

She had no weapons and posed no physical threat to him as he was nearly twice her size.  Were this between two men, 1) this would not come up for discussion and 2) he would still be just as wrong.

As all parents tell their offspring at some point while raising them – which many seem to forget upon reaching adulthood:

KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF.

<>==========<>==========<>
Slice of Life Teal
Slice of Life Story Challenge

I See Your True Colors Shining Through

Posted on by
Reply

So last night  this happened…

Miss America 2014

Miss New York –YAY TO MY HOME STATE, TWO WINS IN A ROW!-,  Nina Davuluri, was crowned the winner of the 2014 Miss America Pageant.  The 24-year-old is the first contestant of Indian heritage to become Miss America.

And the racists go wild!

twitter_racists_2
 twitter_starnes_1The new Miss America 2014 barely had the first hair pin in to secure the crown on her head when the backlash started.

twitter_racists_5

twitter_racists_3

Being that this is Twitter, and we all know what a rainbows and lollipop filled space that is, I am not in the surprised by the nasty vitriol the spewed by these lesser informed Americans.  As usual along with their hate, their ignorance is shown at an all time high.

twitter_racists_4
I’m willing to bet a good majority of these ignoramuses against Miss Davuluri being chosen to represent the nation, were also upset that Marc Anthony sang the national anthem at MLB’s All Star game this past July because he wasn’t an American either. And we know how well that turned out for them.

If you’re born here in the US or in a recognized US  territory you’re American. If you immigrate here and become a citizen, guess what? you’re American. And American melting pot has a hell of a lot more colors in it these days.  Like it, and apparently quite a few do not, Nina Davuluri is an American citizen and is fully worthy of wearing the crown.

It galls me to no end how immigrants of color “are welcomed” to have anything they want, but -to quote Guns’N’Roses- “you better not take it from me”.  Immigrants of color are an asset to the country until they cross that invisible line and achieve -read as “take”- something deemed should be an American -read as “white”- ideal. Then it’s a problem and one of the first thing out of the complainer’s mouth usually is “They’re not from here”. If they would take their respective feet out of their mouth and extrapolate on that theory a bit, they might remember neither are they and the majority of us living here.

And I am sure all those of Native-American heritage justifiably nod their heads in agreement every single time they read something like this.

I find it appalling and yet “same old/same old” that ones spewing the most hatred were mostly Caucasians and the one shocked at that very same hatred are mostly Caucasians. As a minority I live with this on the daily. It’s fucked up, but not in the least surprising. The new Miss America is of Indian descent – it is a huge step forward in diversity.  Unfortunately, all those in the Twitterverse who feel otherwise about her win sends us two steps back in maintaining that divisiveness.

If I Read One More Thing About Weight Loss I’m Going To Throw Up!

Posted on by
5

Do you know how sometimes you and/or your friends come across something so WTF?, so  – I don’t even know what to call it – that it must be shared just so the burden of knowing this exists is not yours bear alone.

This is one of those times….

The Device
To begin Aspiration Therapy, a specially designed tube, known as the A-Tube™, is placed in the stomach. The A-Tube is a thin silicone rubber tube that connects the inside of the stomach directly to a discreet, poker-chip sized Skin-Port on the outside of the abdomen. The Skin-Port has a valve that can be opened or closed to control the flow of stomach contents. The patient empties a portion of stomach contents into the toilet after each meal through this tube by connecting a small, handheld device to the Skin-Port. The emptying process is called “aspiration”.
http://www.aspirebariatrics.com/how-it-works.html

Where a standard catheter processes food removal after digestion. Here, the person has a type of catheter attached to his/her stomach that allows a portion of  food to be removed from the body before digestion is complete. This medically sanctioned bulimia is calories in, calories out without having to stick one’s fingers down one’s throat. Good, because I imagine that must be murder on one’s manicure.

Now, as a medical procedure for those who would need to do such to save their lives, I understand. I fully understand that there are those who can’t, and I do mean cannot, make use of the socially accepted methods of weight loss – dieting-exercise-Weight Loss Surgery.  However, let’s be honest. Never mind all the verbiage on the website that this “therapy” is used to assist in one’s “lifestyle modification”, and requires careful monitoring by one’s doctor.  We know a good portion of those who will volunteer to use this are going to be the ones who won’t (not can’t – won’t) be so bothered with those sociallyaccepted methods.

Considering the ‘aromas’ involved during a normal body waste removal and/or auto purge response. Never mind what’s involved scent wise with the use of catheters when things go wrong – and they occasionally do go very wrong.  I do not want to even think about what charm would emanate should that valve and/or pump ever fail.

And So…

  • If it comes down the front tube it’s urination.
  • If it comes down the back tube it’s defecation.
  • If it comes up the esophageal tube, though not necessarily out the mouth, it’s regurgitation.
  • And if it’s sucked out the inserted plastic tube on the side it’s aspiration.

They liken the process of expelling the contents of one’s stomach to the process of drawing one’s breath.  I know aspiration is the technical name for that part of the process medically speaking, the drawing of air or liquids through suction. Still, I’m betting, if the standard definition of the word were a person, s/he would be appalled and highly insulted by such.

And ooh, when it comes to sexy time, I bet that ‘poker chip’ must be so lovely to kiss to lick to gaze upon. Talk about redefining let me stick it in your port baby, ugh!I don’t know about you, but this is not something I will ever aspire to.