Ring...Ring...Ring..

We aren't talking about the type you put on your ring finger!

We are talking about a phonecall to my parent's landline.
Yes, they still have one of those.
The shocking part is this person on the other line was asking for me?!?!?!

After my mother got over the fact the call was for ME! (That has not happened since 1992. I was climbing trees down the street.)

I got on the line slighty afraid. Who can this be?
I'm used to the text messages and Facebook pokes. A phone call?
This is unheard of!

The voice super nervously goes: "Hey this is (Insert first and last name here)
I recognize the person and go: "Heeeeeeeeyyyyy what's up?????" (The hey was super long to kill sometime.)
"Nothing much..." He sounded so nervous. Definitely was cute.
"How are you? Just wanted to see if you wanted to go out sometime?"
I took a second to answer because I was soooo taken back.
I said "yes" of course. How do you turn down a guy who looks you up in the phonebook? He probably was calling my other line under my name for months. I haven't used that line in over five years.
Honestly, I don't really know how I feel about the guy!
Definite props for calling my parents.
I ended the phone call like a work phone call. Thanks for calling. We will address the issue and return with a solution as soon as possible. (Joke about the last sentence.) Talk to you soon! HaHa oh well....a little cheesey and then I give the guy my cell number.
He asked if he would need a pen to write it down haha. I hope he was prepared!

Note* I hope he didn't hear my father call him (Insert name here) the freeloader. He has no IDEA who the guy is even! Already giving him strikes! See you can't make this shit up!!! Surely, I have enough drama to start a TV show. If the Jersey shore can make it, so can I. I actually have real stuff happening to me that doesn't involve fist pumps and drunk hookups every three seconds!

<3 Disbeliever disbelieving 24/7

Buying my OWN drinks!

Yesterday I was at the bar. The bartender says that guy is sending you over a drink. My face must have looked like this :>o <--- Yes just like that! The "in shock" face. I even made the bartender repeat himself. That guy over there wants to buy a drink for you and your friend. WoW! It is true!

Turns out we wound up knowing the guy from the last time we were there. I told the Realist that I guess we have to go over there now to thank him. Her response: "Ugh!" Just like I was feeling, but I wanted to be polite. We invited the guy to sit next to us. We had good seats in the middle of the bar. Nope, this weirdo wants to sit all the way in the corner of the bar. As far away from civilization as possible. Really buddy. This $11 pitcher is not worth my time.

Here is his therapy session, in which the Realist counseled him for an hour pro bono!

1. Complains about his ex wife or baby momma.
2. How she wasn't ready for children.
3. How abortion is a good thing sometimes.
4. How you should love a guy when he is not making money and love him when times are good. It's not all about the money.
5. "I have an I-phone because I'm an artist." 

The Realist's diagnosis: Chronic Complaining.

You know classic rambling type stuff that goes on for hours! Way too annoying! Honestly, when people ramble like that I feel myself powering down. I'm moving to stand-by mode. Standing by until your ass says something interesting.

That is why I need to not accept drinks from others. I feel like I have to talk to them and thank them for the drink. It feels like the nice thing to do. Ugh! Please just let me buy my own. Thank You! Lesson learned!

<3 Disbeliever disbelieving 24/7

Questionable?

Last night I was chillen at my local favorite bar. It shall remain nameless in order to stay at the top. I saw this amazing looking guy in a teal blue shirt. Perfect Body. Perfect Face. Nice Muscles. Nice Smile.

Luckily, chairs opened up right next to this guy! I was so happy.
I plop down next to him and start a conversation. The Realist was a witness to this scene as well. I'm drawn to guys wearing off colored shirts. I'm starting to realize this is a slight problem. We started talking to him about different events. Triathlons, races, beaches, and the Dominican Republic (where he is from).

Then it happened! My gaydar when off!

I told the Realist when he went to the bathroom. She didn't believe that he is gay.Why did I start to think he was gay? I don't know. It is just a feeling from his actions to the sound of his voice. So very slight. Maybe, I'm wrong...I still don't know. Ugh!

As he is leaving he tries to pay his bill. First attempt: he asks to borrow my phone is order to switch money from his banking to his checking account. He makes the call and comes back inside. As he attempts to pay again, the money didn't go. Second attempt: still the money didn't go though.

Guy goes: "Want to go for a ride in my convertible?" Ugh!

Now the Realist is fully believing he is gay! Her radar went off! "Especially if it is a RED car," she said. I don't know why the color has anything to do with it! HaHa, but I found that super funny! We politely decline because: A. I don't know him and B. I just bought myself a drink. I wasn't about to leave with someone I don't know. He can't even fit his $14 bill! Why should I ride with you?

He did manage to put a phone number in my phone. I will not use the number. I just erased it in fact. Go me! If he calls fine, but to make a long story short, I'm learning to go with my gut a lot more. I think that is super important. Yes, I hear the mother's voice saying, "Give the benfit of the doubt." Guess what? That never really worked. I'm going with the gut on this one! I also will be staying far away from guys wearing questionable colored shirts!

*Note to the gays: Most of the time we can tell your gay. You don't have to announce it, but in questionable situations why lead a girl on if your questionably gay. Please drop us a big hint. At least we can start to put you in the friend zone instead of the crush zone. Thank You!

<3 Disbeliever disbelieving 24/7

Cosmopolitan: The Second Bible

Please don't strike me dead God for the title, but hear out the article first.

Guys, you need to buy this magazine! First of all, I hate guys that would judge another male for this. Reading this magazine will not make you like penis. It is never "gay" to be educated. This is what women are reading, so you should as well!

For starters I had guys take my magazine to the bathroom with them for their poops. I also had a guy who would openly read his sister's. Nothing wrong with it at all! Guys that read womens magizines are better in all aspects of life. If you get my drift. ;)

Some highlights that I really like from June's issue are: Cameron Diaz (page 42) "As you age, you know what you want and become stronger emotionally." Right on Cameron! I know this is true for me because I don't put up with any bullshit games ever! Just not my cup of tea! Play your games with saps elsewhere.

Moving on to (page 66) "Is he Too Close to His Work Wife?" Haha RIDICULOUS. No husband of mine will ever have a work wife. I will rip him a new ASS-hole if the words "work wife" ever escaped my his mouth when I get married. Seriously. They should tell women not to put up with that bullshit! If he has a "work wife," then he should marry her for real then. I just realized I was angerily typing. You can tell when I'm mad it's super funny.

Moving on (page 70) Dating a Younger Guy: Fantasy vs. Reality
I'll tell you the reality. It sucks! Don't do it! Big waste of time! Why? Because the vast majority of guys are immature to begin with. If I were to date down I'd be dating a 22-24 year old  We have nothing in common. I did date a 23-year-old recently. He had a stable job, but his weekends consisted of "let me pretend I'm still in college." No hunnie! Your ass should be going out to dinner with me on weekends, not playing beer pong!
*Note I do go out to the bars occasionally. I'm not a complete stick in the mud. When I go however, I only have a drink or two. That is it!

What is your love style? Let's decode it on (page 127) Choose between three types: The aviodant, The Anxious, and Stable! Of course I'm the avoidant! "You are all about doing things on your own and calling the shots." (page,127) Hell yeah Cosmo! Way to know me without even seeing my face. A lot of times I believe this comes across as a wall. No! It is not a wall! I'm just a really strong independent person. I can go to the bathroom myself and I wipe my own ass. I love the space!
I love to say I'm skiing this weekend. I'm going to the beach. Going to this bar. Running a race. Going to church. Going to walk my dog. Going to eat a sandwich. I sail my own ship! I belive when I'm to find a man he has to be super independent as well. He will also need to have a super strong personality or else he will get left in the dust.

Finally, (page 189) if you got yourself a loud snorer tips of the trade to help your poor individual.
I, on the other, hand will continue to enjoy sleeping solo with no noise, but my own breathing!

This weekend let's toast to the power of being single and LOVING it!

<3 Disbeliever disbelieving 24/7

Booty Call from Da Hood

     Da Hood missed us already. And 24 hours did not even pass.

     We put on our swagger and entered a lounge that is perfect for me. It is my model home. Red floors that light up, red couches, and red and black bathroom tiles! I was seeing red!

     We sat on a couch next to the aquarium and just observed the crowd. One by one the hood rats crept in. A really old creepy one sat next to me.

     While the Disbeliever and I were talking on the couch, I was interrupted with a hand on my shoulder. I screamed and fell back on the couch. I was dramatic for a purpose. When I regained control, the old man apologized for scaring me.

     “My friend wants to buy you a drink,” the eld said.

     “No. That’s OK,” I said.

     “Come on. I’m trying to help him out. He likes you.” This friend of his looked like he was about to die!

     “No! I don’t need one!”

     Frustrated, he said, “It’s just one drink. One f#%@$ing drink!”

     “No thanks.”

     Ugh! Whyyyyyyyy do I always get these old men? Why me? Do I have a sign on my back that says “Old men, come talk to me!”? FMLL!

     Then I see him talking to some other young girl, probably begging her as well. I looked at her and rolled my eyes.     

     Moments later, a European-looking eld sits where the OMC were sitting. The Disbeliever bet that he was going to talk to me now. I made a point not to look his way. I hid behind the aquarium.

     Then some creepy hands make their way to my legs like a spider.

     I shrieked and moved as far away as I could. He tried it again! I was really scared. I wonder if there is a phobia of old men. If there is not, then there should be because that’s my fear! OMC Phobia!

     We got off the couch and hit the floor. This place has our kind of men. There was a fly guy who walked in with sunglasses on who reminded me of Usher. I told the Disbeliever that we have to dance with him. Sure enough, we did. What a dance it was!

     Usher was sweating and grinding with us. I hate grinding! I don't want to feel their bulge on my butt. He hoisted me up and I thought my head was going to hit the ceiling! Usher loved dancing with us so much that whenever he said he was going to leave, he would come back to dance!

     As we left the hood, he was outside waiting for us! Usher ushered us to our cars. We got lost along the way because we forgot how to get back to our cars. He was between us and called it a “white Oreo with chocolate cream.” Usher was very funny, making jokes that we are safe because we are being protected by a black man: “No one is going to mess with my ladies because I am black!”

     First, he said the Disbeliever is “trouble.” Then he said that I am the freaky one. These Bs are right on!

     He wanted to come home with us, of course. I do not know how he was getting home or where he was going. Apparently he lives in Brooklyn and has three houses in Jersey. He buckled us in our seat belts and gave us a kiss on the cheek. Usher has the Disbeliever’s phone number in case of a booty call.

     In fact, I think Da Hood is calling us….

Keepin’ it real,

  Realist

Can I get pregant from this?

~G~R~I~N~D~I~N~G~

We all partake in it at da club. Sorry! I'm just not a fan of it!
It is just way to intrusive for me. You dance in YOUR space.
I'll dance in mine.
Did I even get your name? For real!!!

Why do you guys like to tease yourself like that?
I mean maybe you occasionally go home with some slut that way, but really.
I find it laughable and pathetic looking!

When a guy rubs the goods on me, I'm trying to figure out how small his is. Let's face the facts, it is rare to find a guy that is packing. Especially if they are at the club! If they had someone to bang, they would much rather be with them on a Friday or Saturday night. Instead they are seeking some bangable material.

I did look this topic up on Google. No known cases of kids being produced, but if you want a good laugh I suggest Googling it as well.

Just be aware when you rub your junk on me I'm figuring out:
Length, girth, circumference and everything else in between!!!!!!

<3 Disbeliever disbelieving 24/7

OMG you be peepin' out!

Enough said.

The Disbeliever and I went to see Usher with Akon in Da Hood and ventured out afterwards! We wore our custom concert shirts that said OMG on it for Usher’s OMG tour. We each cut up the same tank top to our liking. The Disbeliever (right) went for the conservative look and tied little bows along the sides. I went for the non-conservative look (of course), cutting my barely-there fabric into a skimpy halter top with ties down the sides. Check it.

O.M.G. Hood Rats in Da Hood



Usher tore it up like his shirt!



We decide on where to go by simply parking our cars somewhere and just follow our noses. It’s easier to find a hot spot that way. We just ask people where they are going, or they just tell us to follow them.

The club was poppin’! They had bar dancers. We both want to do that for a day. It’s on my bucket list. One thing that you will always get with this duo is a good time. We don’t need to drink to have fun. In fact, we did not even have a sip!

We had a great time at this place. It’s better than going to NYC! It’s less crowded and there are lots of potentials. A B followed me out the door as we walked out. Ooo la la.

He offered us a job selling crack on the street. Haha! We gracefully declined his tempting offer.

“You be peepin’ out!” the B said.

What does that mean?

He would not tell me what it meant. There was nothing peepin’ out! Unless he saw me do that one jump....

I think he was talking about my dancing. I am a dirty dancer. ;) I must give off the hood vibe. The hood rats love me!

He asked if there’s any chance of the two of us hanging out together. I appreciate his boldness. It takes guts to ask a girl out. I am sure he was on crack, so he does not get all my kudos. But he smelled really good (minus the crack smell)!

I was shocked when he said that he can tell that I like my men a certain way. He made a great observation. First, he said that I have a black name. Then he hugged me and I did not push him away. If I did not have any attraction toward him, then I would have pushed him away.

This hood rat has been ratted out!

Keepin’ it real,

   Realist

Hey Buddy, why don't you play for the NFL?!

With all the games these guys play they should be in the NFL! It is super annoying.

I'll tell you how it starts. It starts with the Facebook "poke." Then goes onto the Facebook message. Then they get my BBM pin. Then they finally get my phone number. They won't call they will send a text. Then they will send me a picture of them with barely any clothes on. This was especially the case with the Plenty of Fishers. I personally hate that shit! That was the deal breaker for me! Don't send me your naked self BEFORE I see it in person!

So, do they ever take the phone call step?
Rarely~Super rarely... It is a easy way to establish the boys from the men!

I'm looking for a man! Pick up the phone and ask me out! That is what I'm looking for. Not in a gold digging way. I make my own money.
Just going out to get to know the person over coffee, or something like that.
It isn't like you're spending over 10 bucks!
Let's bring the "D" word back. I'm talking DATING! Not Douchebag!
Let's face the facts! We both are not getting any younger in this situation!
I'm looking for some serious men!!!!!!!

<3 Disbeliever disbelieving 24/7

Holla-ing in Da Hood

     Da Hood was calling our names. We holla-ed back! For the past month, the Disbeliever and I have been exploring Da Hood once or twice a week. We can’t get enough! Da Hood loves us!

    Our first extravaganza to Da Hood was on the day before Cinco de Mayo, so it was Quatro de Mayo. We found this gem while walking the streets, as hood rats do. We sit down and order a pitcher of Sangria immediately. We could not remember the last time we had a drink or got drunk! We rarely get to go out because we work mostly weekends. Whenever we have off, we take advantage of it!     

There was an eld (probably in his 40s) who was sitting next to me, a few chairs away. The Disbeliever caught him peepin’ at me. Not again, I thought. Soon enough, he moved closer and started talking to me. FML! His old man friend (in his late 60s) came over to talk to us. He hooked us up with so many drinks and shots. We were basically paired up now. The 40-year-old virgin kept putting his hand on my leg and gave me a horrible massage. I squirmed away. Creepy hands. I hate talking to these elds about my life. I have no interest in ever seeing him again, so he does not need to know anything about me. Plus the conversation is so boring. Guys need to learn how to hold a conversation. Blablabla.

     I think these old timers just talk to younger girls to lift their self-esteem. I am not Prozac!

     The 40-year-old virgin left after numerous failed attempts. The really old man, his friend, stuck around. He was at the bar since 2 p.m.! He was really funny and gave us sage advice: “The key to living a long and happy life is to have lots of sex.” I’ll take that prescription, doc!

     Then a younger eld came by to join the orgy. At least he was younger and more attractive than the other two. I also got a sharp tattoo of flames on my arm. I would seriously consider getting it. It’s that “hot.”

     The night ended with him giving us an amazing massage. That was a good happy ending. ;)

Keepin’ it real,

   Realist

Rambling Rambler!

I get the ramblers. The guys that will not shut up and can't hold meaningful conversations.

For example, I met this one guy at subway sandwich shop. We were talking about Metro Dash, a race in the area. He kept rambling.
I noticed he was rambling, but it wasn't toooo bad. He semi-kept my interest because at least he was talking about something running related.

The icing on the cake was definitely yesterday. I met the king of ramblers who works at the gym. As I was leaving. He was leaving...
It started with the weather.
"Hope tomorrow will be sunny!"
"Thank God tomorrow is Thursday!"
"I hate the pollen! I have to wash my face everytime I'm outside from the pollen!"
"I'm going away on vacation next week."
I was finally able to get a word in and say, "Where to? Malaysai! Where the f is that? Does that even exist?"
I wonder.
We part ways after, still awkwardly walking next to each other for longer than we have to all on his part.

The second I get home, I have a new facebook friend request.
You guessed it-- from the guy who works at the gym!
What a nut! How does he know my name? How did he find me? Ahhhh!!!
I did not add!

<3 Disbeliever disbelieving 24/7

I am not your Habibi!

            Cupid is shooting his arrows at the wrong men. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse than being proposed to by a gas station attendant, now a pretzel and hot dog vendor was asking for my hand in marriage! FMSL! What made it worse....he asked me at a street corner in NYC.

    

No, I am not a prostitute (although I was working).

    

“Habibi!.....habibi!” (He whistles as if I will respond like a dog.) HABIBI!

    

I finally gave in to look out of curiosity to see what a habibi was. He could have been talking to a pigeon for all I know.

    

That pigeon was me.

    

“Hey, come here,” said the greasy, food vendor with a red bandana on his forehead.

    

I ignore him.

    

“Habibi! Let me talk to you.”

    

I keep looking away.

    

“Hey!” he said with a whistle.

    

“What?!” I shouted.

“I want to marry you,” said the rab, smiling with rotten teeth.

    

Repulsed, I said, “Ew!”

    

Marco, the food vendor, kept trying to talk to me as I was working. The only thing I kept saying was “no”!

    

He probably did not understand it. But then again, most men don’t. “No” is not in their vocabulary.

    

Marco kept saying some dirty things to me, both in broken English and in his native tongue to his coworker (or next door food vendor neighbor).

    

His neighbor knew better English and translated that Marco wants to marry me tonight and have crazy sex, in addition to other explicates that are too severe even for this blog. He swore that it would be the best I’d ever have…one I’ll never forget.

If that happened, I would hope to forget it!

“I’ll pay you $500,” Marco said, showing me a wad of hundreds in his wallet.

    

“No.”

    

Licking his lips, he said, “$3,000.”

    

I shriek and go back to work, feeling utterly disgusted. Why does this always happen to me? I think my seven years of bad luck for breaking that mirror expired five years ago!

    

Stuff like this always happens when the Disbeliever is not at work with me. I need that cock blocker at all times!

    

Then Marco offered me soda. I told him no. Of course he doesn’t take no for an answer. I asked for a Gatorade instead. Then he gave me a pretzel. I really did not want to accept them. I always think guys want something in return when they do favors. But I saw this as an opportunity to excuse myself to wash my hands first.

    

I took the pretzel and Gatorade and ran! I went inside to pack up and leave the joint before a food fight of pretzels and hot dogs starts over me.

     I saw him again the next day. Another day of harassment. Not only was Marco still on the prowl, but so was his neighbor! He offered me a two-for-one deal, $1,5000 “for a good f#%@^”. Just think, I could have walked home with $1,500 in my pocket! What a deal!

     But no deal!

     Keepin’ it real,

        Realist

Dry Spells--TWO Polls!

I was having dinner with a friend of mine last week, and we were talking about (who knows how we got onto this subject) another friend's recent uncharacteristic promiscuity.  He was telling me that this friend, who is normally on the side of refined, ladylike, and selective when it comes to dating, had a particularly difficult dry spell and wound up setting out for a one-night-stand to get it all out of her system and end her dry spell.  Of course, since a girl often gets what she wants, she was able to do just that.


He made two interesting points in this conversation.  One, that a lady gets what she wants.  The general point was that men are pretty much always up for sex, and women hold all the cards.  All a woman has to do is raise her hand and she can go home with a guy.  The only thing stopping this from happening all the time is that women are often more selective.


His second point was, in his words, that "every lady has a limit."  That is to say, that women may have different tolerances for "dry spells," but for every woman, whether a lady or a (well, for lack of a better word) slut, may have standards that could decrease over time during a dry spell, while desperation increases, and there comes a point when the two scales cross, after which it becomes more and more difficult for her to stay within her moral bounds because she "just can't take it anymore."


This is all very interesting, very taboo, and despite any offensive gender generalizations and stereotypes this encompasses, I think there is at least some truth to it.  So I thought it would make an interesting poll.  Wait!  Let's make it TWO interesting polls!


First, everyone--do you think there's any truth to the idea that a woman gets what she wants?





And second, for the ladies--how long does it typically take before you reach your "limit?"  That is to say, how long could you go without a little *ahem* attention--before you start to lose your mind?





Trying to stay positive,
Skeptic