Why Do Men Want to Sext . . . Instantly?

Sis 1 here . . .

Ok, so you know I've been out there dating for awhile now.  I tried the online thing--met a few guys and kicked them all to the curb.  Some of them were nice, some were really hot, but all of them play games and lie.  Oh--that's a whole other blog topic.  What I want to know is, why they all want to sext me almost instantly?  I mean really . . . I'm not a prude and I can write some pretty tawdry words.  In fact, I can rock your world just in a text.  But, that doesn't mean that when we first meet that I want to do that or want you to.

I've had some guys after the first text start talking about what they want to do to me or me to them in very graphic terms . . . Sometimes accompanied by pictures.  Come on man!  I'm trying to make sure my teenage son doesn't sext his junk to anyone and grown ass men are doing it?  BTW--you might also want to wait on sending you picture that way . . . It's not always a go-getter, if you know what I mean.

So, here is my advice to you boys that want a real woman . . . Stop sexting and start talking.  Take her for coffee or a drink.   Talk about your life and hopes.  Listen to her life and hopes.  If you have some connections there, go out again.  Rinse and repeat.  You should not be sexting anyone, unless you're in a committed relationship with them.  Then it's fun and spices up your love life.  If you're not in a committed relationship and sexting, then you're just a pervert.

IJS!!!

Until next time, keep it #sassyandsarcastic . . .

Boob Food

Sis 1 here . . .

Boobs.  Did I get your attention?  Everyone loves boobs, right?  Whether you're male, female, gay, straight, baby, grown up . . . It doesn't matter.  Some women complain about their boobs--either too small, too big, too saggy.  But what we don't talk about is this . . . Boob food.  I'm not talking about breast feeding.  BTW--how awesome is that?   I'm talking about the day-to-day dilemma.  And this may not apply to all boob owners, but here's what I deal with every day.

I'm eating my meal, snack, whatever . . . The crumbs and sometimes even large bites end up in my bra. Every. Single. Time. I. Eat.  It doesn't matter if I use a bib or put my plate/bowl right under my chin, a la old fashioned Catholic communion, I end up with a full meal in my bra.  Now, sometimes, I struggle and dig that shit out as soon as it happens.  After all, bra crumbs are not comfortable.  But other times, I can't be bothered.  At the end of the day, I take off my bra and voila . . . Instant evening snack.  Ok, ok--I know that sounds gross and I don't really do that.  But, damn!  I could feed a small country with the waste.  Kinda like the loaves and fishes.

My new dilemma is this.  I was in a very long term relationship, so boob food was not an issue.  It was the status quo.  Now that I'm out there dating again, what happens if I decide to do the horizontal boogie?  I mean really.  What if the new man is going for the score and comes up with half a PB&J sandwich?  For some reason, I don't think he'll find that sexy.  Here I am in my sexy Vicky's Secret lingerie (ok, the Walmart equivalent) and he's all turned on, off comes the bra and presto . . . Here's your appetizer?! I hope you don't have allergies. Bwahahaha . . . .

Something to think about.

Until next time, keep it #sassyandsarcastic . . . .

Continuing Tales from a Teenage Alcoholic: Bathroom Beer

Sis 1 here . . .

So many of our stories revolve around alcohol . . . SMDH . . .hence the title of the series . . . .

In our continuing saga, one time, Sis 2 and I took the fan bus to our sister, small town (the same one from the previous post) for a basketball game.  Back then, we liked to drink Little Kings.  In case you don't know what these are, they are small bottles of English Ale that fit great in our purses or boot tops.  So, we loaded up our bags and headed to the game.  While there, we went in the bathroom and started passing the drinks around.  Wouldn't you know it?  Some nosy ass adult came in and told on us.  The next thing we know, the authorities are telling us that we better come out right now.  So we did, but they didn't search us.  Whew!  But, they said when we get back to school, they will search our persons and our bags.  Yikes!  Frantically, we are trying to figure out what to do.  After all, we still have several bottles left and we don't want to dispose of them--that could get us busted too.  So, we ask my ex-boyfriend, who was older (let's call him TD) to take our bags back and we'll meet him later.  He refused, saying he doesn't want to get busted, because he is now over 21.  Panic time . .. What to do?  Our savior came in the form of one of our friend's dads.  He took our bags back and met us off of school grounds and gave them back.  That was pretty cool, right?  (Note--he would have killed his own daughter for doing this.)  Looking back now, as a parent, probably not so cool.

We thought we got away with it all, but on Monday morning, we got called into the Dean's office.  He tried to get us to get us to crack (he got one girl to give us up by threatening her with expulsion), but remember, I had been through some shit before, so I knew all his tactics.  Sis 2 and I planned all weekend so he couldn't do anything to us.  The worst he was able to do was keep us from going on the fan bus to away games.  Since he had no proof, my dad got pissed about that and gave me gas money to drive to the games.  Way to go, Pops!

And I wonder why my child acts out?  SMDH!

Until next time, keep it #sassyandsarcastic . . . .

Continuing Tales from a Teenage Alcoholic: Call My Uncle

Sis 1 here . . .

So, you know that Sis 2 and I grew up in a small, Midwestern town.  Unfortunately, racism was rampant then (and to a lesser extent, still is).  Sis and I though, we didn't care about skin color--still don't. And, at the time of this story, we were both dating black men.  I was dating Top and she was dating Little B.

So, one night, we decided to drive to our sister, small town for a party.  We took my car, a 1972 Dodge Dart Swinger, and proceeded to have a blast.  On the way home though, Top had to drive because I was very intoxicated. Imagine that!  So, we're driving along and all of a sudden a Deputy Sherriff (DS) pulls us over.  When Top asked why he pulled us over, DS says, "I pulled you over because the car you're driving looks like one that was reported stolen tonight."  Really?  A stolen 1972 Dodge Dart Swinger in 1984?  Come on now.  So, he asked for license and registration, which we gave him.  He got more suspicious because the license was Top's, and the registration was my dad and me.  He started giving us a hard time.  So of course, in our drunken state,  Sis and I  went off.

Now, keep in mind that Top and Little B are trying to shut Sis and me up.  They understand that bad things can happen to two black men in a car with two white women.  Sis and I hadn't yet gotten that memo, but we knew it was some racist bullshit.  So, we yelled at DS and told him he's a racist shit and a liar on top of it all.  He told us he was going to take us all to jail.  That's when I got really mouthy and told him to "call my uncle." He said I could use my one phone call to call my uncle.  I told him that he really didn't want me to do that, because if I called from the jail, he was going to lose his job.  You see, "my uncle," was the County Sherriff (CS). He wasn't really my uncle, but a very close family friend, who I called Uncle.

So, DS decided maybe he should call CS before he ran us all in.  So, he called dispatch who called CS at home.  CS ripped DS a new asshole and we could all hear it.  Not only did DS pull some bullshit on his "niece," but Top and Little B were star basketball players at our high school.  Oh yeah . . . Don't mess with our basketball players.  Ultimately, DS let us go and we headed home.  It's a fun, great story, but also sad commentary on the times.

Again though, now that I'm a parent, I hope my kid doesn't do this stupid shit.

Until next time, keep it #sassyandsarcastic . . . .

Continuing Tales from a Teenage Alcoholic: Where Did All the Light Bulbs Go?

Sis 1 here . . .

My favorite New Year's "memory" is that of 1984.  Sis 2, and I stayed at our friend's house (we'll call her Apple Girl).  Apple Girl's mom went out of town for the holiday, and trusted Apple Girl to stay home and take care of her younger brother.  Of course, we all thought we were doing that while having a fantastic New Year's Eve party. 

We started drinking early in the afternoon and by 9:00 pm, I was on the bathroom floor, bowing to the porcelain god.  By 10:00 pm, I was passed out on that same floor.  How sad, I was going to miss midnight, the ball drop, and Dick Clark.  I had help though, another friend (we'll call him Texas) picked me up off the floor and carried me into the living room so that I could do the final countdown with everyone.  Thanks, Texas!

The best part though, is the next morning, as we are hung over and cleaning up, Apple Girl's mom calls and says she is on the way home.  She's early!  Shit!  So, we frantically clean it all up and get out so that Apple Girl won't get into trouble.  We don't hear anything from her for days.  Finally, when we get back to school on Monday, we find out that (1) we cleaned too well, so mom knew something was up, and (2) someone stole every frigging light bulb from the house, and Apple Girl had no explanation.  Needless to say, Apple Girl's mom didn’t want her hanging around with us any more.

The good thing is that we are all still friends today and can look back and laugh about it all.  The bad thing is, we have children who are just like us.  Yikes!

Until next time, keep it #sassyandsarcastic . . . .

Happy New Year

Sis 1 here . . .

On behalf of Sis 2 and me, wishing you a happy new year. Here's to a better 2014 than 2013, which in itself was better than 2012. Expect to see more sassiness and sarcasm from us in the coming year.

Until the next time, keep it #sassyandsarcastic . . . .

Walking Down Memory Lane ...

Sis 2 here ... a few months ago I was lucky enough to reconnect with someone who played a MAJOR part in my life about 20 years ago ... my first love (possibly my only real, true love); the person I thought I would spend my life with; you know, the "one that got away". 

Twenty years ago we were, as we have dubbed it "young and stupid" and let stupid BS get in the way and ruin the relationship we had. Fast forward all these years and now we talk nearly every day (some days more than once) and take a little walk down memory lane each time - sometimes we talk about regrets, sometimes we talk about funny memories from when we were together, sometimes we talk about what might have been and sometimes we talk about 2nd chances. Life has roadblocks along memory lane - sometimes we can ignore the roadblocks and sometimes we have to try to remove them but no matter what I am loving these walks down memory lane with someone so special to me and feel blessed to have him back in my life. 

Walking and remembering with someone I care deeply about but still keeping it sassy and sarcastic.