The Sweet Life?

A few years ago in the depths of my singledom, one of my homies texted me a link to an episode of Lisa Ling’s This is Life about sugar daddies and their sugar babies. Although I’d been used to receiving random texts about weird shit, I responded with, “WTF?” What-Say-what-DAFUQ-WTF-What-the-fuck-GIF

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d be interested. You look young enough, and you’re prettier than the girls on here” he replied.

I didn’t know if I should feel offended or flattered. Truth be told, I had thought about it. Giving an old dude some attention –  laughing at his jokes, playing miniature golf with him on occasion and making sure he took his meds on time didn’t seem like too  much to give in exchange for rent, tuition or downpayment on a car. Actually, let’s be real I’d do some ego stroking for a designer bag. Hey, I said I thought about it. I didn’t actually consider it. 

But considering the list of unsavory occupations, it’s one of the least problematic ones right on top next to “high end escort”. I considered it’s better than hooking, and probably more prosperous than stripping. However, I also considered the following:

7jrkk1. The Age Difference. Obviously, there’s the obvious. The fuck I look like at the movies with someone that looks like my dad, but obviously isn’t my dad? What would we talk about? Would I have to watch black and white films with him? What if he breaks a hip while we’re partaking in “young people” activities? What if he knows my mom? Does he even know who Cardi B is?  Continue reading

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Live for Life.

I pride myself in having an active imagination. I credit this partly to being an only child, but I also believe it’s an innate characteristic of mine. People say I’m great with kids, but I think it’s because I act like one myself. Often times, I wonder who’s baby-sitting who. As an adult, I’m just as fascinated with kid toys and never step in the “hot lava”.

Alone, a vivid imagination as an adult can be a blessing. It’s Steve Jobs, Stan Lee, Elon Musk, and Jim Henson. It can also be found in CEOs and generals and politicians who think outside of the box. But an imagination combined with anxiety is debilitating, exhausting and depressing. It plays tricks on you, has you questioning everything, and keeps you up at night writing blogs when you have work in a few hours. 

A popular thing my – let’s call it “anxination” likes to do to me is prevent me from feeling happy. I could have everything going for me, and then BAM my anxination will slide in my dms like an asshole ex-boyfriend that caught wind you’re moving on. Like damn anxination, CAN I FUCKING LIVE? No. Of course not. The more content I seem to feel, the stronger the anxination gets.

While my life isn’t perfect, it’s going better than it has been in a long time. I have a job I’m grateful for, an amazing boyfriend, supportive family, and beautiful home. Life is dare I say it, great. Yet, my anxination barely let me type out those words for fear I might jinx it. I’m convinced that any second now, it will all come crashing down for no reason. Because of this, I’m not able to enjoy the blessings that I have. Because of this, I live in constant fear that something terrible is bound to happen. 

I think this despite knowing that I built this life. It wasn’t handed to me, it wasn’t from wishing upon a star. If only I could convince myself that I don’t have these things because I’m lucky – I have all these things because I worked hard for it. It’s the result of deliberate actions I took and decisions I made, battles I fought and tears I’ve wiped. It’s a shame that even though these are facts, I still have to make myself believe it. But if I believe it, then I should also believe that as long as I continue to work hard/smart for this life, I’ll be able to keep it. That it won’t just be taken away from me, simply because I’m not allowed to have a good life or the world is against me.

The thing is, it could all be gone in a blink of an eye. Nothing is ever guaranteed. Not because the universe is against, but because nothing stops for no one and shit. just. happens. So why not enjoy it while you have it? God forbid you enjoy it for the rest of your life. 




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Phase Out.

Once or twice a year, me and my gay meet up to partake in what I’ve newly dubbed as the 5×5: 1 drink each at 5 different bars. Last Friday, over mezcal at Iron Horse in SF, I noticed a man and woman leaning against the balcony behind us. From bits of their conversation, body chemistry and gestures, I inferred that they weren’t on their first date but they also weren’t quite a “couple” yet. They were in that in-between transition phase where you’re trying to figure things out.

Admittedly, I sometimes miss that exciting feeling of not knowing what’s going to happen when you’re just dating. Those moments when you’d text your girlfriends a play by play of the night, and feel everything for the first time. But that phase can be just as agonizing as it is exciting. For me, that phase also meant a lot of wondering and worrying if the person I was dating, was dating other people. Below are a few of silly ways I would test my theories.

Bobby pins: After one substance abused New Years Eve night, I woke up the following tenormorning not knowing what year it was with a butt naked man sleeping next to me. My bodychain entangled every which way, and at least 25 bobby pins were strewn all over the bed. I had short hair in an updo that required long hair, so there had to have been 25 more pins in my hair. I was trying to sneak out without Sleepy Booty waking up, so I grabbed as many of the pins as I can and ran out of his apartment looking like a washed up prom queen.

Although it wasn’t intentional this time, leaving bobby-pins as a way to mark ones territory had been an ongoing joke with me and the homie Jey for quite some time. In fact, I started to purposely leave them in his car in hopes that I’d get a, “Dude, I got slapped!” phone call later from him after one of his hoez found it. Yes, I am that asshole friend. 

Trash Items: I was fucking this one guy I had full blown feelings for, and had anxiety attacks at least every other week wondering if he was seeing anyone else. One time I saw a used tissue with eye makeup on it in his trashcan, and immediately my heart raced. I almost asked him about it when I realized our mutual friend and his girlfriend were visiting from out of town and crashing at his place. Whoops.

Toiletries: Back when I used to have inconvenient casual sex, I used to pack convenient ho bags. On a whim, they’d consist of the bare minimum: a toothbrush, hair tie/bobby-pins, and wipes. A sophisticated one would have face wash, leggings and maybe some flip flops. One time I was showering at “Buzz’s” condo, and thought I’d be slick and leave something as unsuspecting as a little pill holder containing face wash that was the size of a quarter. I kid you not the second he walked into that shower after me I heard, “Is this yours?” DAMN.

If we do a quick review, you’ll find that I put myself through months of anxiety over trash, toiletries and hair accessories. Obviously, if you want to know if the person you are dating is seeing anyone else you should simply ask. This doesn’t mean they’ll actually tell you the truth, but at least it’ll save you some bobby-pins.

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“Behind every strong woman, are other strong women”

tumblr_nkwi2iK3N01tfezi5o1_500Women are beautiful. We smell good even after a workout. Our sweat is sexy. Our skin glows. Our hair is luxurious. We hail cabs in 4-inch heels, and win Jenga games while carrying babies. We clean up the mess others leave behind, but don’t you dare call us “clean up women”.

We are teachers. Scientists. Models. Mothers. Sisters. Best friends. Girlfriends. Wives. Grandmothers. Engineers. Fashion Designers. Makeup artists. Politicians. Entertainers. Dancers. Dreamers. Healers. Believers. Magicians. Coaches. Athletes. Gold Medalists. Chefs. CEO’s. Janitors. Managers. Philanthropists. Stay at home moms. We are anything we really, really, really, want to be.

We are Michelle Obama. Susan Wojcicki. Frida Kahlo. Olivia Pope. Emma Gonzalez. Victoria Manalo Draves. Dark Phoenix. Ayesha Curry. Chloe Kim. Okoye. Princess Diana. Cleopatra. Marie Curie. Misty Copeland. JK Rowling. Malala. We are so many women we haven’t even heard of. 

We are compassionate yet tough yet sweet yet sassy yet gentle yet strong yet patient yet unrelenting yet simple yet complex yet humble yet a motherfucking force to be reckoned with.We-are-all-wonderwomen-happy-International-Womens-Day

We love with parts of our soul we never knew existed, and  carry the burdens of others with strength we never knew we had. We save our tears for after we wipe away someone else’s, and forget to eat while cooking dinner. We raise sons to be Kings and raise daughters to be Queens, we raise our hands to ask questions and raise an eyebrow at authority, and raise our raises because we are worth it.

But we are nothing without each other. 

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“Put on fo yo city hoe!”

It astonishes me that it is now 2018, and people are still butt-hurt when their sex tapes or nudes are leaked. We got intelligent humanoid robots and self-driving cars, yet people still haven’t learned their lesson when it comes to sending a photo of your privates to someone that slid in your dm’s only two days ago. 

In the event you are a person of dignity and self-respect that has no idea what I’m referring to, a clip of Blac Chyna performing what I think is supposed to be oral sex leaked on social media today. This occurred just 7 months after her ex and baby-daddy Rob Kardashian exposed her nude photos.

unnamed-9Let me be clear, any perpetrator of revenge porn should absolutely be held accountable for their actions. I’m not victim shaming Black Chyna for sharing something that was probably only meant to be seen by another person she trusted, I’m shaming her FOR GIVING WACK ASS HEAD – ON CAMERA AT THAT!

In a previous hump day post, I wrote about the casualties of sexting photos. I provided tips on how to save face, and ended it by saying you can’t control what the other person does with the material – however, you can control what material you send. So make sure that shit is hot fiyah in the event it does leak. People don’t even care that Blac Chyna was on her ho shit again, they’re more distraught by her dick sucking technique or rather, lack thereof. 

Social media is asking who took a bigger L this week: Fergie for her rendition of the National Anthem or Black Chyna for her sex tape? I’m not sure, but at least Fergie’s performance was entertaining. I was ready for Black Chyna to go Black Panther on that dick, but she might as well have blacked out with her lackluster performance. She gave brain like she dropped out of summer school, like she failed P.E., like the muthafuckin Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz. You know how girls say, “I’ve never done this before” as they roll up their sleeves and wrap their hair in a bun? I would believe her if she said that! I’m starting to think men actually date Blac Chynna for her personality, because it definitely ain’t her bob and weave. Her fellatio was so disappointing it made me come out of Humpday Post retirement just to write about it.

As a wise woman by the handle of @Ms_Octoburrrjb on Twitter said:


Needless to say, I am disappointed. Next thing you’re going to tell me is Rihanna only has sex in missionary position. Best friend or not, Blac Chyna should be banned from Amber Rose’s Slut Walk next year.

Ladies, ain’t nothing wrong with being a hoe. You already know I’m a fan. But you gotta embrace it. If you’re going to do some hoe shit that will disgrace your mother, at least make sure it impresses your fellow hoes.

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Happy Valentine’s Day.

I’ve always loved love. Even when it didn’t love me back. 

I tried so desperately not to, too. After every broken heart, ripped photograph and deleted number, I vowed to be a “bad bitch” that didn’t need a man … to no avail. It took a loooong time before I finally realized that that just wasn’t me. Oh, don’t get shit twisted – I was a bad bitch no doubt, but I was a bad bitch that wanted a good man. 

I’ve spent most of my adult years a single girl on Valentine’s Day. I watched my co-workers receive giant bouquets at their desks, and saw photos of my friends at dinner with their significant others. I loved it. All of it. No boyfriend? No problem. I still had my girls, and we celebrated love and relationshits over wine and pre-fixe dinners just the same. 

Yet, I still felt like something was missing. There was still void in my heart that unfortunately no girlfriend could fill. 

Today, I sit at my work desk in front of a dozen long-stemmed roses and a heartfelt card from my man, but I still empathize with being single, realistic romantic on Valentine’s Day. It sounds corny, but I looked around the office at my co-workers and hoped they felt happy and loved whether they had a significant other or not. Regardless of your relationship status, I hope YOU feel happy and loved, today, tomorrow, and always.

I want to make this very clear: there is nothing wrong with being single. There is also nothing wrong with wanting to be in a relationship. Your relationship status doesn’t determine your worth or make you any more or any less suitable for love.

If you’re single, don’t let failed relationships and those around you make you feel bitter. And if you’re in a relationship, don’t allow those who are bitter make you feel like you can’t celebrate the love you have to give and receive. It was never a big deal for me to NOT be in a relationship on Valentine’s Day, but it’s a big deal for me now that I’m in a relationship on Valentine’s Day. 




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Viva la Mexico.

I took advantage of Virgin America’s final 2-for-1 deal at AT&T Park and booked me and the misters a trip to Puerto Vallarta last weekend. We stayed in the small town of Sayulita for 2 days and then the remaining day and a half in PV. It was a short trip, but action packed although I’m kicking myself for not booking one more day. 

This trip was just the right amount of culture and tourism, simplicity and boujee. Sayulita reminds me of the movie Coco come to life. It’s a little beach town with a mix of visitors and locals, vegan friendly cafes and family owned taco stands.  There are colorful buildings everywhere with bright papel picado banners connecting them, and the sweet smell of churros waft throughout street corners. 

In Sayulita we stayed at Casa Nawalli, a cute AirBNB inspired by nature. Each room had a theme, and a garden surrounded a pool and courtyard adorning hand painted tiles. At night we could hear animals and birds chirping with a faint hint of music in the distance, and in the mornings we woke up to the bread lady yelling “A la dulce” outside.

Before heading to Puerto Vallarta, we did a water excursion. Truth be told, all I’ve ever wanted to do on vacation was sit in the netting of a catamaran with the sun hitting my face and sprays of water splashing my legs. I finally got to cross that off my bucket list! Along with whale watching, snorkeling, and paddle boarding. 

Once we got to the Garza Blanca Resort in PV, I pretty much died. I knew it was a good hotel because of the ratings, but it surpassed any expectations I already had. It was luxurious without being pretentious, and the customer service was unparalleled. We had views everywhere: in our suite, during breakfast, at the pool, on the roof. It was just what we needed during the last few hours of vacation.

For those of you thinking about a trip to the Nayarit area of Mexico, I’ve included links to companies I used during my trip below. I would also take a look at each company on Yelp or Trip Advisor to see if it’s your steez, and check for sales on hotels. 

Casa Nawalli
Ally Cat Sailing
Vallarta Transfers and Incentives
Garza Blanca Preserve
Metamorfosis Spa

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