4th of July, Kids and Being Single

Just call me Morticia, for even in the hell of the heat I’ll wear black, which is exactly what I did at a  pre-4th of July barbecue I attended as a tag along with another single friend of mine. I don’t want to be the only unmarried one there she said and of course she singled me out from her handful of other single and not hating it lady friends. As I’m not the type to

Questions I asked Mommy and Daddy

Looking at my childhood pictures reminded me of happy days filled with wonderings about the mysteries of the world. My innocence compelled me to ask questions, which my parents answered separately and together.

Will Santa give me that big doll house for Christmas?

Not this year sweetie. He’s on a budget.

Why do I have to order from the children’s menu when I can eat more than you can?

Small people must eat small portions.

Why can’t I eat more candy?

Because cavities are expensive.

Why do I have to go to school?

Dad: So you’ll know how to fill out a job application.

(Two frogs in my hand.) Do frogs really turn into prince charmings?

Mom: Eeeek!     Dad: Get that toad out of this house.

What’s divorce?

The Frenemy

Self-expression is the choice between satisfying the stirrings of my emotional conscience and burning bridges. Good

Wikimedia Commons

behavior makes me feel like a soloist in a symphony with an indifferent, but hostile audience. Play flawlessly and the audience is silent, but hit a wrong note and receive hisses and jeers.

I don’t want to be difficult, disagreeable or MEAN, but I can be. I don’t want to be different for the sake of being unique, such contrivances are pedestrian antics of a lost soul. I’m no longer lost, but I haven’t reached my destination either. But I am/can be different because we cannot ALL BE THE SAME. In my circle of reality, I am the lone femme–single, never married and childless. 

I am an oxymoron moving within the flow of life. I go unnoticed and then a malfunction

Translations at the Nail Salon

I like to zone out when I’m getting my mani pedis. This is my weekly routine. I walk inside the nail salon with my iPod in full blast. In my opinion, this is the best nail salon in my area. The owner greets me. She is Vietnamese. All of the ladies working there are Vietnamese. The owner says something (I don’t hear it), but I smile and wait for Peggy my manicurist. When I see Peggy she smiles and says something (I don’t hear it), and I follow her to her station. As I’m following the petite Peggy I accidentally bump into a not so petite grumpy looking manicurist who looks like she just sucked on a lemon. I say excuse me, but she says nothing. I get to Peggy’s station. I sit, close my eyes, and zone to the music as I feel the pulsing of warm water tickling my toes while Peggy begins on my right hand. This is my time for solitude; no one else exists.

Then my iPod shuts down. The battery is dead. I take off the earphones with my free hand and a cacophony of voices replace

Ready to Rumble at the Airport

I picked up a friend at the airport and almost got into a fight. This is how it went down.

I saw her waiting for me at the passenger pick up curb of LAX. I parked the car, popped the hood and got out to help her with her luggage. She grabbed one end I grabbed another but we couldn’t hoist the ton of bricks into my trunk.  She either packed a dead body or slabs of concrete because that sucker was heavy. My friend weighs about five pounds and how she got that lug from the baggage claim to the trolley was a mystery to me. We struggled for another minute until I told her that we should take out some of the contents to lighten it up. She searched her purse for the luggage keys but she couldn’t find it.

It’s summer in Los Angeles. I’d broken a sweat and my temper’s flaring

Confessions of a former snooper

When Pandora’s opened the jar, she unleashed all sorts of horror and evil on mankind. Have you ever been as curious as Pandora? Have you ever had that compunction to open a friend’s medicine chest? Have you ever found yourself alone in your boyfriend’s place rummaged through his drawers?  Have you ever been so curious that you invaded someone’s privacy? If curiosity killed the cat what did your curiosity do to you?

In my youth I was a snoop. Although, I likened myself to be more of an investigator of mysteries. When my parents thought I was tucked in and snoozing I was lurking and snooping. As a teen, I read a friend’s letter and found out that she was

How to Survive Blind Dates

You know friends are having a pity party for you when they start to set you up on blind dates. You can either say no and stay home or say yes and take a chance. I’ve had my share of blind date hell, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve given up on finding true love. In the meantime, here are some tips to keep in mind about blind dating.

Practice your poker face. Go in front of the mirror. Now imagine that your date looks like this guy. Now smile and say nice to meet you. Keep on practicing until your look of disgust transforms into a generic pleasantness. You’re in no position to judge him. Remember that looks are subjective. Another girl would probably think he’s a total hottie. Besides it’s not his fault he looks that way. What you should do is send your matchmaker friend an email virus for setting you up with a total “minzer.”

Carry a concealed weapon. You don’t know this guy. Crazies look and act normal on the outside, but they’re homicidal on the inside. You need protection just in case. Forget about pepper spray or taser guns. Looking for them inside your purse is like looking for your keys. And we all know what that’s like. You need to be a WELP (Woman with an Extremely Large Purse). Walloping your blind date with a purse full of books is a good way to defend yourself. The hardcover version of “Breakthrough” by Suzanne Summers combined with all the other thingamajigs you have in your purse can do some damage. But if you’re serious about self-protection then you’ll need a copy of the “Oxford English Dictionary.” He’ll be seeing stars when you whack him on the head with this lexicon. Tip: Aiming for the little head will have him talking like Mickey Mouse as he cowers away in pain.

Be cool. If your date turns out like this guy (fill in the blank face with your fantasy man), don’t get your panties in a bunch. There’s nothing worse than a woman with a constant I just hit the hunk lottery look on her face. Retain your composure even though your insides are turning cartwheels. He’s not yours–yet. Smile, be nice, and avoid talking about religion, politics and especially marriage. Let him do the talking (guys like that) and just nod your head (who cares if you disagree with him). There’s plenty of time to be yourself once you’ve hooked him.

 

Join the Crazy Chicks Club.

Visit my fan page on Facebook.

© 2017 Lafemmeroar

Unintentional Sexual Thoughts

Wikimedia Commons

I’m single and dateless, that also means I’m “sexless.” But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about it. In fact I think more about sex when I’m not getting it. I think about sex multiple times a day–hell multiple times an hour and sometimes multiple times a minute when I have my quickie thoughts.

I can be teary-eyed while cutting up an onion, but my mind will be engrossed with thoughts about scorching the sheets with some hot fantasy male. In fact I’m thinking about sex now. I think about sex so much that I’ve suffered many embarrassing 

Don’t Flirt on my Time

Patience is a virtue. I went to Starbucks and while I had intended to go through the drive through my tush said that I should park and walk it because I could use the “exercise.” Big mistake … I walk into a long line. I hate lines and the slow as snail baristas melts my patience like a glacier in hell. While waiting I try to entertain myself with the knick knacks on the shelves and ponder the logic of buying an overpriced coffee maker.

Hallelujah I’m next. Only the chick (flashing silicone cleavage) in front of me is flirting with the order taker (the horny half-wit). The two talk about clubbing, partying and other mindless “ing” activities while the last person in line (me) is  chomping at the bits for her caffeine fix. The guy behind the counter sees me,

10 Signs That He’s Mr. Wrong

Here are 10 signs that say the guy you’re with is NOT the guy for YOU:

1. The word “commitment” isn’t in his vocabulary: But he knows how to say “no strings sex” and “I need to see other people” in 5 different languages. 

2. He’s still looking for himself: If he’s lost, then you’ll never find love with him.

3. He’s exactly like your ex-boyfriend: This one is a no-brainer … DUH!

4. His words don’t match his actions: He says you’re the only woman for him, while his eyes fixate on the blonde bombshell and her knockers.

5. You don’t speak the same language: You say potato–he says potaTOH. You say relationship–he says bootie call. Oh just call the whole thing off.