Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: I’ll Be Damned

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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.

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Tinkering Around

Some of my holiday cards arrived at my job. The glitter from one card fell out of the envelope and dead into my lap, highlighting an area that really does not need attention called to it, especially while I’m at work. When one my of co-workers jokingly asked what happened it went like this:

Me (looking down seeing the extent of mess for the first time): Well, you know how with fairies their kisses always leave a trail of sparkles?

Him (cautiously, knowing it’s going to be bad): Yeah…?

Me: Well, Tinker Bell was attempting cunnilingus again as I was getting dressed. The little bitch is sooo good, but won’t take no for answer when I have to go to work.

Him (laughing): What?

Me: I look like I’ve been vajazzled under these pants.

Him (groaning): Dammit, I had to ask.

Me: That’s what you get for looking at my crotch.

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Premature Libation

While (im)patiently waiting for my Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte to be made, a barista calls out for Jack. When Jack retrieves his purchase, he grins with pride as he hoists the drink in salute to the female friend/colleague/whatever standing beside him.

“I came faster.”

No, I sincerely did not know the man at all.

No, I sincerely could not resist.

No, I sincerely did not care.

“You know most guys do not admit that out loud or with pride.” I grinned.

Thankfully yes, he and his female friend/colleague/whatever had a sense of humor and laughed.

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Callipygian Earnestness

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries (a.k.a. the shit that comes out of my mouth):

So, while holding a bag  that clearly contains my lunch in hand, I am about to enter the revolving door of my office building when I spy a colleague exiting. I stand to the side and wait for him to exit.

Seeing my bag he inquires of it contents.  I tell him it’s “poison”.  I have no idea why, but I can tell by his expression that he doubts the veracity of my statement.

“What?  You were warned years ago to never trust a big butt.” I say as I make it a point to smile broadly.

He’s stumped for all of .1 seconds before he starts grinning.

“I can’t play with you.” He throws up his hands and walks away, shaking his head while laughing.

Was it something I said?

– blame Bell Biv DeVoe!

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Breathe

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Not sure when it happened, horrifies me that it happened without my noticing, but suddenly I am terrified of reaching – truly reaching and risking – for the things I want.

A friend recently posted the above as her Facebook status.  The below is my response…

Breathe. You slipped into a moment of complacency. It happens to all of us. Perhaps you needed the break for a moment, but it’s lasted too long and now you’re aware. Rest is over hon, time to get your life in gear again.

Breathe. It is a little more terrifying than the first you put your faith in His hands, while taking your guts in yours and leaped, because then you didn’t think anything could slow your forward motion. Now you know things can if you’re not paying attention and be vigilant, so it does not go too far again. Moreover, you know you had the faith/guts to start this path before, you will and find it again.

Breathe. Stop worrying about the endgame for a moment. What is the very first step you need to accomplish to set you on your path again? Focus on that, complete it, reassess, and focus on that next.

Breathe. How can you ever fail as long you’re ever trying to move forward and so many of us have your back? I’ll let you guess what final word of my heartvice to you will be. You can begin with that…

For an admitted Snark Queen, every now and then, even I surprise myself…

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Doctor’s Order

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries – aka the shit that come out of my mouth:

A friend has had stomach problems for nearly a week. Well, nearly a week in which he has admitted it. Knowing him, it was going on for much longer. And why doesn’t he go to the doctor, you (and I) ask?

Quote– I know… I need to see the Dr.. but I am afraid — unquote

Of course me, being the caring, compassionate, being that I am (*cough/wheeze/choke/hack* – dang I can’t even say that in a blog with a straight face- responds as follows:

“Go right ahead and keep on procrastinating seeing the doctor. I declare if I have to come visit you in a hospital because you let something minor turn into something major, all because you were afraid, I am going to redefine the word harangue so badly as to make a filibuster seem a like mere quip!”

Want to take three guesses on who made an appointment -in my presence- to see the doctor on Friday?

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Hey Mami

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries

(aka the shit that comes out of my mouth).

On being addressed as a female progenitor by people, other than the two I actually gave birth to, one time too many:

Him: Hey Mami

Me (annoyed): I am not your mother!

Him (surprised): But it’s just a term of endearment.

Me (eyes rolling): You just laid eyes on me for the first time in your life. I have yet to become an endearment for you to have a term to. It’s rude and an insult to all the women who are mothers, who have put in the work and earned the title.

Him (fishing): Maybe it just means on first sight I think you’ve got what it takes to love and take care of me.

Me (incredulously): Really?

Him (thinking he gained a point): Yeah.

Me (evil smile): So on first sight you think I’ve got what it takes…?

Him (cocky): Yeah.  To cook, clean and  all that good stuff, like a mother would.

Me (trying not to be mean, but failing):  And occasionally whip your ass?

Him (back peddling): No, that’s not what I meant, I…

Me (totally nonplussed at his ignorance by now): And is there’s some Oedipal history I should be aware of?

Him (clueless): What kind of history…?

Me (in full on evil mode): newsflash boy, because most men know better, when it comes to the majority of females you meet on the street addressing us by the title of the first woman whose vagina you came sliding out of, is not considered a compliment to the woman whose vagina you’re trying to slide into. Good-bye.

Want to guess what term of endearment was heard as I walked away? Hint: It rhymes with mucking witch.

Me (not even bothering to turn around): Thank you!
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Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Traction

I tend to be very flippant verbally. I know, go figure!  Still, every now and then, something flies out of my mouth where even I have to stop and admire the genius/stupidity/brazenness of the moment. I already share these on Facebook under the heading of Verbal Diarrhea Diaries (aka the shit that comes out of my mouth).  I’ve decided I’ll also post some of them here to share the spontaneous insanity that is my mind with you.

So, I have a running joketationship with the cutie that works behind the counter at one of my favorite coffee shops by my job. Last week he made the mistake of saying that no one makes him blush as I do. I took that as a challenge.

Me (upon seeing him at the register): Hi Z!
Him: Hi Raivenne!
Me: Hello my love, my dove, mon Cherie amour, my little cheese danish…

The two ladies who also work with him, and are quite used to my silliness, start laughing as he grins, knowing it’s only going to get worse while he takes my order.

Him (preparing to pass my purchase to me): Is there anything else you’d like ?
Me (salaciously): You – à la Mode?
Him (laughing and shakes his head): I don’t know about the ice cream, I’m kind of a hairy guy…
Me (not missing a beat): Ooh, traction!
Him (mouth momentarily agape, full on red face, before laughing and raising his hand in high-five to me): Wow, you win.
Me (matter of fact): Of course I do.

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