author of Karma On Ice

Archive for July, 2010

The Mary Magdalene Effect

(disclaimer-this post is about a reformed whore.  If you are with a woman who is currently doing these things I recommend that you get out.  And please go get tested.  Knowing your status is always important)!!!

“YOU CAN’T TURN A HOE INTO A HOUSEWIFE”

 Over the years since the movie Player’s Club (I think that was the movie, hell I’m getting old) I repeatedly heard these words.  Back then in my teens I had the same sentiments.  I mean like who seriously wanted to be (dare I say it) the slutty girl? As soon as we could comprehend we were taught that the “fresh girls” were ok for a tryst here and there but never wife material.  No man wants a girl who has been around a time or two.  As I look back on that, my mind, at the time was a victim of manufactured chauvinistic bull shit.  I thought that thinking with the norm would mean that I too was normal.  Stepping outside the box on such a controversial issue was so not faboosh (Crysictionary = fa boosh derives from the word fabulous). 

 As time and my brain progressed and I had fully accepted this wonderful role of womanhood, I couldn’t help but notice that this way of thinking was one-sided as hell.  Everything is pretty much ran by men so naturally most of their ideals are heavily infused in literature, television, and all the other various mediums out there.  It bothers me to no end that they publicly ridicule this woman (you know the types that front when his “boys” are around) but when it’s just him and her, he trying to push up on her hard as hell.  Instead of trying to dead whatever nonsense is being said about her, he is too ashamed to admit that he is feeling her.  Regardless of all the rumors of mileage, or wear and tear she would be the perfect woman for him, BUT ONLY IN PRIVATE.

 All of this brings me to the million dollar question: IF JESUS CAN FORGIVE A WHORE, WHY CAN’T YOU?  Now before people get all up in arms about me saying Jesus forgives whores, let me make it clear that it is written that Mary Magdalene was used by the devil for sexual gratification.  She was on the brink of being stoned by the masses (all men I am sure) when she was saved by Jesus.  He cast out the seven devils inside her and she became one his most devoted apostles.  Remember when I said most literature etc was written by men?  Well why is it that we never seen the book of Mary Magdalene in any Bible?  She witnessed first hand many of his marvelous works.  She wept at the cross and was the first to discover he was NOT in the tomb.  I know had I saw all this I would have most definitely written about it.  That goes back to my point that society is not easy to forgive a whore, as if her words are discredited because of her appreciation for sexual desire.

 I am not condoning “whore” like qualities.  Do I respect a prostitute? Not so much, and that is only because she is doing it for the money or drugs or a pimp.  Do I believe that women can sleep with whoever they want to? Yeah, I really do.  Why you ask (I know you were asking)?  Because it is a woman’s prerogative to do whatever she pleases.  Do I think that your sexual needs being met all comes from a moral stand point? Sure, if you don’t have any gripes about what you are doing, why should others? Do I find it unfair that men feel as if they can decide who is a presentable woman vs a whore? You damn skippy! That grinds my gears.  I don’t even have to say that most men slut it up as soon as they realize that they can get it up.  We all know that.  And do I really have to say that the only reason men don’t like an “experienced” woman is because they have issues with their own abilities? 

 So this brings me back to my question earlier: IF JESUS CAN FORGIVE A WHORE, WHY CANT YOU SIR? 

The Crucifixtion of HOPE

(PLEASE NOTE THAT ANY AND ALL VIEWS EXPRESSED HERE OR SOLELY MY THOUGHTS, BELIEFS, AND IDEAS.  YOU CAN DISAGREE AND THAT IS FINE WITH ME.  I ACTUALLY LIKE PEOPLE WHO HAVE THEIR OWN OPINIONS.  AND WHILE YOU MAY FEEL ONLY YOURS IS VALID, I STAND FIRMLY ON MINE AS WELL.  I AM NOT TRYING TO PUT ANY ONE PERSON DOWN OR IGNORE THE HISTORICAL MOMENT THAT WE ARE PRESENTLY IN.  YOU CAN CONTINUE WITH THIS POST BUT IF YOU FEEL AS IF MY OWN TBI’S WILL PISS YOU OFF, EXIT LEFT PLEASE. BUT COME BACK TOMORROW AND SEE IF I’M TALKING MORE ON THE LINES OF YOUR STEEZE)

 A little over three years ago we found ourselves in the midst of desperate times.   Cost of living was going up while wages remained low.  The car industry was on the fast track to tanking and once what was considered a great job (i.e. Chrysler here in Fenton) people were being laid off at an alarming rate.  The banks were on the brink of filing bankruptcy (now just how in the hell can anyone get credit for anything if the banks don’t have money).  Gas prices were so high that people wanted to take public transportation (but even they went up on their prices) and they also cancelled a lot of stops, furthering the unemployment rate since people couldn’t get to work.  The threat of another great depression was real.  At the time I didn’t really give much thought to a great depression, it was something that I considered only rich people were worried about (hell I had been “greatly depressed” my whole damn life). 

 The Bush Administration had completely shattered any trust that American people had with politicians.  We were duped into believing that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction and we had to go and find the oil, I mean the weapons. Never mind the fact that we were already in war with Afghanistan. They played on the American people’s fear of another terrorist attack like what happened at the World Trade Center.  The poor handling of Hurricane Katrina and how our own people (born and raised here on U.S. soil) were deemed refugees! Are you kidding me? Maybe they didn’t know the term refugee means a person who flees to a foreign country or power to escape danger or persecution”.  These Americans weren’t fleeing to another country.  Kanye put the truth out there in a single statement, “GEORGE BUSH DOES NOT LIKE BLACK PEOPLE” (enter gasp here).  He should have also screamed “AND POOR PEOPLE EITHER”. The FEMA debacle was another travesty that back-handed American citizens.  Oh we needed something new and we needed it fast.  Change, change, change was on everyone’s brain.  Who could deliver this change?

 Hillary was ready to step up to the plate.  Why not? Her husband ran the country for 8 years.  She saw a lot and was involved in a lot.  She knew that 2008 was her time; she had all her ducks in the row and was prepared for change. What she didn’t count on was a man who had Hope and the mighty O (Oprah to you regular people)!   Hopeful that he could make a difference in the American people.  Hopeful that he could bring about the “change” people wanted.  Hopeful that he would win the Presidential spot and people wouldn’t worry about the color of his skin. I signed up quickly for this hope.  I admired and was totally inspired by his Audacity of Hope.  I cried as I voted, cried when he won, and cried during the inauguration.  It was as if Sam Cooke’s Change Gone Come had finally arrived.  

 Everyone wasn’t as happy as I/he/she was.  He had stepped in the middle of Bush’s mess and it wasn’t going to be easy to clean up.  For the past 18 months he has tried, and they have knocked him for that.  He has wanted to, but they have blocked him from that.  He took it all in stride, never said a mumbling word.  I can’t help but think of Christ as he was nailed to that cross; yeah he could have spoken up and gotten down.  But his purpose was to save the world from ourselves.  President Obama is not Christ, nor can he save the world; it would be delusional for people to think he could. But as the country possibly sits on the brink of a racial separation that could set us back years in time, I need for him to reach down inside of himself and bring that HOPE back out. 

He can not let O’Reilly, Hannity, or Fox News discourage or bully him.   I need for him to stop with the passive running of this country and stand up for himself and the American people!  Everyone will not like him or what he has to say, but they have to respect him.  Call these blatant racist out on their racism, point his finger at them and shake his head at how they are purposely trying to divide this country.  Look them in the eye and let them now that he shall not be moved, swayed, or affected by this childish play they spew out.  As long as he remains silent they will continue on with their witch hunt.  From Acorn, his father in Kenya, the fist bump he had with his wife, the fact that Bo wasn’t a rescued dog, Shirley Sherrod, oil spill, helping Haiti, sneezing during church, wearing all black suits, and any other story they can twist and turn. 

It kills them that there really isn’t a story for them to discredit him so they are attacking his legacy of HOPE!  As I stand back with the crowd and watch as his HOPE is being hung up and out to dry I feel a surge of anger. Not new Black Panther angry and they should not feel new Tea Party angry.  Angrier that people put so much weight on what color you are. I don’t want to make it a black/white thing, the man is half both so who are they to say which side of himself he loves the most.  The issues that this country face is not just for a certain race.  Somehow and someway we all need to remove HOPE off their burning cross and instill it back within ourselves.  We don’t have to weep at the feet of HOPE like the Marys did Christ.  It was out of their hands to save him, however we can save HOPE.  Its still within reach we just have to want to rescue it.

The Black Man: The Ultimate Weapon of Mass Destruction? (part 1)

I struggled internally for like two weeks or so on whether I should write this post or not. The last thing I wanted to do was put our black men in another categorization post. I also knew that my thoughts may be a tad bit bias since I have become a die-hard feminist (but not the I don’t want a man kind) and I haven’t dated for almost 14 years.  Lately I had been hearing so many women complain about love and their “man”. So I sought out help from my friends to enlighten me on the various different type of men out there.

From this experiment I have learned that all relationships have problems. Some just are more severe than others. I look at older couples and I am truly amazed at the longevity they have experienced with one another. In a time where chivalry is almost nonexistent the million dollar question that yells at me is: WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO OUR BLACK MEN? Now don’t get me wrong I know some of you are, or may have some great ones. But the reality is they are few and far between.  So if you are single I pray that our little findings will help you to steer clear of these type of men. Let’s analyze this species more closely in hopes of finding a cure and deweaponize(I really need my own little Cryssictionary) our men without destroying them.

THE MOMMA’S BOY: he’s a perfect gentleman and really sensitive to a woman’s needs. However he is still on the “tit”. I get it! I really do. Your mom was great. She washed your draws, cleaned your room, and was always there to give you advice. It’s what every mom should do. However, being co-dependent on her after the age of 21 just won’t do. I’m not saying just forget her all together(I encourage a healthy relationship with your mom). But she should not have a say in your house where your woman lives. Nor should a man constantly compare the two. Its hard enough competing with other women who also wouldn’t mind your attention. Having to fight for it with the woman who has been your everything since birth is a no win battle.  I know that we all have this preconceived notion of the 50’s housewife, but we are working just as hard and much now.  We do not have time to take care of you like a child. In most cases like this the woman walks away feeling defeated and sometimes with a sense of failure. She has become Treasurer of the “niggas aint shit committee

THE DENZEL TYPE: he pursues you, courts you, woos and sway you. Attentive to your needs. Loves his mother but she doesn’t run his life. Appreciates old school music but has a flair for hip-hop. He loves a healthy debate about world affairs and can argue why the world is in a horrible state. The love-making is UNBELIEVABLE because he is so in tune with your wants. A grown ass man in every sense of the words. He seems too good to be true as he breaks down whatever wall you had built up. You find yourself letting him completely in and tell him everything. But he is harboring a secret: he is already involved, perhaps even married. He is not a “serial cheater”. In fact, he has never cheated before, but he has become smitten with you. However, unable to leave the wife or girlfriend he also adores. This often leaves the woman in a position she once despised: THE OTHER WOMAN. She vowed she would never be here and now that she is, she realize its hard to walk away. This compromises her integrity which could lead her on a downward spiral of bitterness. Trust is out the door and disbelief is her new best friend. She has become VP of the “niggas aint shit committee“.

MR. DON JUAN CASSANOVA:  He’s super easy to look at on the eyes.  Dresses impeccably and anything thing that consists of the “finer things” in life is right up his alley.  His game has been perfected for years and he could talk you clean up out of your tithes and offering money.  You bragging to all your friends about how this man loves you so and secretly he has tried to bag them all.  On the low he hates women either because one that he really loved dogged him out, or he has watched his mother with different “uncles”.  Whatever the case may be he treats women like they are not equal to him or possibly a possession.  His main focus in life is to win the hearts and destroy as many women as possible. Lying, cheating, and eventually degrading is what he will bring to your life.  This sir is a serial cheater and a very sloppy one at that (he will get caught continuously because he really doesn’t care that you know).  No matter how much you threaten to leave he will take them as a joke and will not stop his whoremonger ways.   The dangers in dating this guy is so great that you will wake up a completely different person.  insecurities run deep while in a relationship like this.  Why wasn’t I enough?  What do I need to do? Who is he loving tonight? The who’s, what’s, and why’s that you roll around in your head will never give you a satisfactory answer.  Look for this sister to be Secretary of the “niggas ain’t shit committee”

In fear of making this post super long I will end here (don’t want you guys yawning on me). I will have to break this topic down. Men wear my brain out. Part TWO coming up shortly……

WTF is a Wifological Clock?

The thought of weddings always bring an awwwww mushy mush moment for me. The beautiful flowers, gorgeous wedding gown, and the oh so cute flower girl! Who wouldn’t feel warm and fuzzy at such an occasion? Well lately its been me. It started back in 2008 with the wedding of my friend Jami( the neurotic bridezilla from the depths of the North Side). Such an exciting time! We laughed, cried, and really bonded. I was sad when it was over because we had so much fun(even though I couldn’t find a midget stripper to give her a lap dance). Shortly after I realized my wifological clock (yeah you read it right WIFOLOGICAL) had begun ticking. (In case you haven’t guessed that a wifological clock is like a biological clock, then TAA-DAA!). It’s haunting me. The constant tick tick tick has really begun to BOOM BOOM BOOM! But just what if it’s NOT my wifological clock that’s drumming on my eardrum? It just may be that darn “fairy tale” walt disney (yeah I’m STILL on that) bull and I really just want a wedding, and not really want to become a wife (picture a lit bulb here)!! Think about the one time I got married (look below for that) it was for snacks. The ACTUAL thought of being a wife makes me nauseous. Hmmmm……..what now?

The United States of Cryserica vs Fairytales

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury! I am here today to shatter the myth, to dispel any rumors, and bring awareness of the danger of fairy tales.  I shall not indulge in an argumentative debate, nor am I purposely trying to shine a negative light upon happy endings.  The United States of Cryserica is here to present the facts.  Without a shadow of a doubt I will prove that Walt Disney, all it entities, and any other fairytale writer have done more harm than good with their misogynistic macho filled “fairytales”. 

 If you will, I would like to present Exhibit A: The Damsel In Distress Stories. After going through the archives I have noticed, multiple Disney books or movies all have the same story line with a twist here and there.  Pretty girl, jealous enemy (always a woman), girl gets hurt, prince comes in and saves the day, the girl is so grateful she walks off into the sunset with him.  The first story ever read to myself as a child was Cinderella.  I remembered listening and being completely fascinated with the ball and her dancing with the prince.  I also remember the bad such as her step mom and step sisters making her a slave.  At 5, my mind thought, “Why won’t she runaway from the house that treats her so bad, she’s grown right?”  After that one night of bliss at the ball she was thrown back into hell. Who came to her rescue?  The prince, he had somehow searched high and low and was so mighty and strong he found her.  Never mind the fact that they lived in a kingdom that had plenty of women.  Cinderella was the ONLY woman who could fit a size whatever shoe.  (This right here is where you scream BULL-SHAT).  In another story a fair maiden that went by the name of Snow White who was saved by a man and whisked off to the woods, rescued from homelessness by seven dwarfs (even vertically challenged men can save the day) and brought back to life by (you guessed it) a man.  Every last one of their princess stories have the “damsel in distress” syndrome.  To me (and when it’s to me it’s really to you as well) these stories suggest that women aren’t strong enough to save themselves, only a man can save you.

 Exhibit BWomen hate other women that are prettier, smarter, etc.  In the story of Sleeping Beauty, Aurora is cursed by an ugly old witch, who despised her for being born beautiful.  The witch’s jealousy was so great she wanted Aurora to die. (Now we see this everyday all day but it’s only because we have been reading stories like this, which have brainwashed us since birth).  Still not enough proof?  How about The Little Mermaid?  Ursula hated Ariel because she was young with beautiful flowing hair.  (which clearly sends the message “you should be jealous of the younger hotter chick) Instead of being the elderly mother like figure to her, Ursula instead tried to ruin her life by allowing her to fall in love only to try and take it away from her.  Mainly all of their stories, except for The Princess and The Frog, have step mothers that are mean and spiteful.  Self hatred towards women is deeply subliminal in the Disney stories. 

 Exhibit C: Love  always ends happily! If you will beg my pardon as I scream BOO FUCKIN WHO!!!  In order to sell their books and movies, Disney has tugged at the heart of naïve girls who would one day become hopeful women.  By merely suggesting in every story that love is obtainable to everyone.  Now I am not cold hearted and bitter at all (well maybe a tad bit, but that’s not the point).  It’s just that I was the little girl who once believed that I could wear a princess gown, go through a traumatic experience, and one day a handsome rich guy would come along and wife me up.  Yeah I believed it because it was written in black and white, right before my eyes.  I watched those movies and cried tears of joy at the endings. I was a princess too and I deserved that “fairytale love”. Well when love came a knocking I eagerly answered that door.  Only to find myself heartbroken and without this “fairytale” life that I had been brainwashed to believe in.

So I say to you today good people, do not believe everything you read or see (unless its in the land of Cryss).  You have to live your life based on real life events.  I am not endorsing giving up on love, but I am endorsing letting go of the Disney fairytales.  Love may “conquer all” but fairytales are clearly the bull shit you have to dance in to get to it.  Enjoy your two step people!!!

Once Upon A FairyTale….

 Once upon a fairytale in the land of the young and naïve I was married.  16 years ago on July 7th, I only remember the date because it was three days after the Fourth and I still had a pocket full of snaps and snakes.  As I walked down the aisle in my grandma’s backyard I didn’t feel nervous at all.  My guest included my parents (better known as the two cabbage patch dolls I got for my birthday and Christmas the year before) my sister (the ever trendy rainbow brite) and my little brother (real blood brother, but still being debated to this day of his origins).  

I had a bouquet of honeysuckle flowers picked from my Grandma’s tree, and sure to be a great treat for me after my wedding.  See the only thing I loved more than those red berries (which I would turn into a mush pie) from the tree next door, was honeysuckle flowers.  I heard my mom say a million times the honey could be poisonous, but that never stopped me from allowing the little bit of honey to trickle of the root into my mouth. 

As I made my way closer to my groom (the kid from downstairs whose mom always had the name brand snacks) he began to smile.  His smile was of a genuine crush on me, mine was because I was about to marry him and inherit a real Hostess Twinkie and a bag of Potato Stixs Chips.  My brother’s voice played the minister of the pound puppy that was marrying us.  We had fully agreed the “you may now kiss the bride” would be substituted for a hug and my snacks. 

As I was focused to keep my eyes on my prizes he leaned over and kissed me on my cheek.  This was immediately followed by a push by me and a swift kick in his shin from my black and white oxfords (my mom insisted on me wearing them versus my jelly sandals since I chewed them half to death).  I wanted to push him harder on the ground and beat his life out, but I had promised my daddy no more cuts or bruises to my “princess face” as he called it. 

I still remember the look in the kid’s eyes, pure agony that his dry cracked crusty lip plan had failed! The divorce took place as soon as he nursed his leg (which had already begun to bruise thanks to his mixed genes).  I would be paid a Twinkie once a day as alimony (bribery really), or tell my older brother that he kissed me and watch him beat the kid senseless.  Either way I would have been satisfied but the creaminess of that Twinkie won by a landslide.  

I say all that to say this, “I didn’t understand that boys ALWAYS have an ulterior motive then and I still DON’T understand them now as men”. But one thing I am certain of, FOOD STILL MAKES ME HAPPY (insert sad fat girl face here).

Welcome to the Apple Insane Asylum

Life at the Apple Insane Asylum (name has been changed because I like receiving a check) has NOT been an easy one for me.  When I was first placed here I had no clue that I was being thrown into the nut house.  But midway through that fateful day I realized something in the milk wasn’t clean.  The other patients? Wow! That’s pretty much the only word I can use to describe how I feel about them.  More than one of these mofo’s had definitely flew over the damn cuckoo cuckoo’s nest. 

 As I happily walked into the Apple I was first introduced to “Brush” (names will be changed to protect their insanity).  Now I could have called her many things, for she was not an attractive woman.  But what stuck out the most (or perhaps stood up) was her hair.  Clearly they had not allowed her to have toiletries such as a brush, because her hair had not been combed at all.  Now this could have been a fluke, so a benefit of the doubt was given since I was in a happy mood.  “Brush” walked me through the corridors and I saw many sad faces silently screaming at me for help.  She placed me in what seemed like a normal dormitory of old biddies.  I was actually enjoying the fact that my space was not being shared with young rowdy people. Little did I know young people would have been much better.

 My cell mate who was immediately coined “Peggy Peter Bareback Mountain” (she was rocking a Peggy Bundy hair do, had a chin like Peter Griffin, and that big glorious back of hers) started talking to me.  Not just regular talk, constant non stop BS talk.  In my first few hours at the Apple I learned pretty much all her business.  I tried to tune her out, but she wasn’t having it.  She took the time to introduce me to her friend, the old biddy in the next cell.  When I say “why Lawd why?” I mean it from the depths of my soul.

 Talking to the old hag, who I have grown to love/hate and affectionately call OHM (off her meds), gave me an extreme head ache.  She was clearly that very first bird that got over the nest.  Every day she takes a series of cocktailed medicines and world beware if she was in a funky mood and decided to skip them.  I spoke to her kindly and in return she growled at me. Not a growl as to say hi! But a growl more like an animal who is trying to guess if you are friend or foe.  Slightly taken a back by her respond I watched as she punched herself in the head with a low mumbled “pay me no mind I can be stupid at times”.  That should have been my first clue to RUN RUN FAST AS I CAN!  Like a dummy I stayed and two years later I am still feeling like a dummy.  I have to free myself from the memories of shocked treatment that I received at the AIA.  This is soooo not fiction, this is my life!  One weekday at a time………..

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