OH...MY...GOODNESS! Damn but that's a fine hunk of honey! Oh and his body is gorgeous too (Ha Ha Ha!). I'll be...thinking...about him just before I go to bed tonight!  Mama Diva has such a crush on him and watches Criminal Minds regularly just to see him and drool. I sent her these photos so I can't wait to see what she says! I'll update you with her comments but until then enjoy the sexy, wet nakedness of Mr. Moore!






I hate giving this guy any sort of credit because he's such an ass but I found the pics of Mr. Moore here. - GD

Mama Diva and I are finally getting some work done on our house so we’re using this time to clean everything out and throw lots of stuff away. While doing this we found some interesting tidbits from my childhood:

One of my Daddy’s old FAX jokes


A silhouette from when I was about 10 years old


A drawing of my Daddy from 1978 [Rest In Peace Daddy Dear]


A really cute caricature of me


I feel so old but also a little warm and fuzzy inside. These things brought back a lot of beautiful memories! – GD

A very merry unbirthday
To me?
To you
A very merry unbirthday
For me?
For you
Now blow the candle out, my dear
And make your wish come true
A very merry unbirthday to you

The Unbirthday Song from Disney’s Alice in Wonderland
Music & Lyrics by Sammy Fain & Bob Hilliard

Sigh. Once again Ms. GD’s birthday has come and gone in a relatively uneventful blaze of glory. I’ve noticed a pattern here recently; my last birthday involved doing something “nice” for someone else; something I wouldn’t ordinarily want to do. For example, last year I was guilted into spending my actual birthday afternoon at an old High School friend’s son’s first birthday party. Sure, Ms. GD love the kids BUT the party was way out in the boondocks! And then there were all these couples with their children and there I was trying to look happy with my damn near middle aged, childless self!

It’s not like a planned it this way. When I was in my early twenties I just wasn’t thinking about marriage and family and all the things that come with it. I never once thought about having a significant other much less a husband, I mean, not seriously anyway. I never thought I’d meet someone I could stand to be with for rest of my life! And after watching so many relationships spontaneously combust all around me I suppose I just internalized all those negative feelings and tried to ignore my very positive feelings of wanting to connect with another human being on an emotional, romantic level.

But now that I am damn near middle aged with only one egg left, I can’t help thinking about what could have been. Should I have let myself be impregnated by the paranoid schizophrenic? I’d have a beautiful, biracial, teenaged child by now. Or maybe I should have married the very short, short dicked Nigerian? I would have had a lovely home, cars, cash, property and all the trappings of being steadfastly upper middleclass. But then I’d most likely be bitter, sexually frustrated and headed for divorce court too.

Sigh. This is the downside of birthdays Dear Readers, all the introspection and self-doubt. I only want a husband and children because I think I’m an old lady and I’ll never have them!

But things are looking up! This year’s birthday, while not a rollicking goodtime, turned out to be quite nice indeed. Mama Diva and I took my other Niece Diva back to college Sunday night. I didn’t really want to do it because it was my birthday and I wasn’t done wallowing in self-pity yet but also because I hate long drives. But Mama Diva is getting up in age and doesn’t like to drive at night so she asked me to drive us there and back. I don’t get to spend much time with my sister’s children so this impromptu outing was rather nice. I got to catch up with my niece and see her dorm and it’s always nice spending time with my mother. On the way back home we stopped at Sonic and got diet cherry limeaides and sang along with the radio. We talked about what was going on in her life and how she felt about aging. That really helped me gain some perspective and I felt a little better when I got home.

So all in all my UnBirthday was a very good UnBirthday indeed! Still…can’t help but wonder what a Glamour Divette would look like…and feel like in my arms. Sigh. – GD

Hi-de-hi Dear Readers! It certainly has been a long time since I’ve written like this. I’ve been so severely lazy and aimless for the last few months that I just haven’t had the strength to write about the many and varied things swirling around in my mind. Okay so maybe the biggest thing swirling around in my mind has been the hotness of several Polynesian rugby players but really now Ms. GD has other thoughts too! I care about the world in general! No really I do!

Mantra For A New Beginning

Om Vinayakaya Namaha
Om Vee-nah-yah Kah-yah Nah-mah-hah

Vinayaka, the reincarnated energy of Ganesha (Hindu God of intellect and wisdom) is often called upon when a worshiper is starting a new endeavor. Be it the start of a new school semester, a new relationship or even a new year, Ganesha mantras are excellent for opening up the heart and mind to new possibilities thus in turn helping us find the courage and strength we need to be successful.

Mantra from Yoga Journal Magazine - February 2007, page 20.

Ms. GD’s Best Kept Secrets Revealed!

I have a secret, a great, big beautiful secret! In the grand scheme of things this secret might seem rather trivial and I might seem very immature for holding on to it so dearly but to me it’s one of the most awesomeist things to happen to me in my short, uneventful life!

Unfortunately I can’t tell you a damn thing about it. I know, I know! You’re screaming at your computer screen and flipping me the bird right now. How dare you, you fume, set us up like that? Well I would love to tell you, my Beloved Readers, but if I do I’ll totally blow my cover! You see, there is a chance that the um – person – involved in my secret reads this blog and if said “person” does then this person will know that I am me which will completely shatter the carefully constructed alter ego I’ve spent the last two years cultivating! I mean, the whole point of an alter ego is so I can, as Daddy Diva used to say, act a plume seed fart ass, without fear of retribution!

So because I have this incredible secret that I can’t share with you I’ve decided to divulge another juicy and equally embarrassing secret I’ve been hiding for the past several months. Once upon a time, when I’d completely lost my mind over Wentworth Miller (AKA The Pretty) I let galaxyMafia convince me that it would be a good idea to write him a letter. It took me a long while to come around to the idea, after all, fan mail is for pathetic losers and I’m really cool! No seriously! I AM!

So I wrote the stupid letter and here it is in its entirety:

February 4, 2006

Dear Mr. Miller,

I know it’s cliché to begin a letter with “I’ve never done this before…” but in this case it’s true. I’ve never written a celebrity and I feel straight ig’nant doing so. I even contemplated using an assumed name but then I thought that was just plain silly. If I’m going to intentionally embarrass myself by turning into the most dreaded of all creatures – Squealing Fan Girl – then I should at least have the courage of my convictions and use my real name. Right?

I’m writing to you because I am in desperate need of information – about you! Everyone who has had the pleasure of speaking with you always mentions how intelligent and thoughtful you are but somehow they never seem to ask you many intelligent or thoughtful questions.

I’ve noticed a pattern that goes something like this: The interviewer fawns a little and asks you about your current project. The interviewer fawns a little more, asks a few impertinent questions (Like how does it feel to be so gosh darned handsome and are you single…ugh!), and then fawns even more until you look embarrassed or bored. I’ve yet to discern which look is which but I must admit you have the best poker face ever!
So with your indulgence, this simple, unassuming, ingenuous Texas girl who has almost no journalistic credentials would like to ask you a few questions:

Music is very important in my life so for me, finding out what sort of music someone likes is one of the first steps in getting to know them (I’ve enclosed two discs of my favorites). What genres do you love and why? If you had to make a soundtrack for your life thus far what songs would be featured on it and why?

Much has been made of you studying English at university then pursuing acting. On the surface there might seem to be no correlation between acquiring an English degree then flipping that into an acting career but I disagree. To grow as a human being one most constantly seek new challenges. Was the idea of committing yourself to something almost completely out of your original field of study part of the charm? What career would you choose if the entertainment industry was not an option and why?

I heard a clip of you singing and you have a lovely voice! Have you ever considered musical theater? What character or characters from a classic Broadway show would you like to play and why?

Many multiethnic actors have been featured on the covers of black publications (Halle Berry, Terrence Howard, and Mariah Carey to name only three) and in other black oriented media but I’ve yet to see you on the cover of Ebony or listed as one of the “Hottest Bachelors” in Essence Magazine for example. Do you feel you’re being ignored by the African American community and if so, why?

In your senior thesis you wrote about gender identity in a white male, patriarchal society. Why did you choose to explore the works cited in your thesis as opposed to say “Madame Bovary”, “The Awakening” or even “The Bluest Eye”?

Are you aware that there is an online church dedicated to the fabulousness that is you? It’s called The First Church Of Wentworth Miller (www.fcowm.com) and it is very interesting to say the least. So much lust concentrated in one place is exceptional! What do you think of this sort of unfettered devotion?

Have you considered dating Gabrielle Union? She’s single now. [Wink. Wink. Nudge. Nudge.]

And finally, one fan girl question – Is Dominic Purcell as magnificent in person as he appears to be on television! [Insert fan girl squeal here]

I understand if your schedule is too demanding to write back right away so if calling me is easier my number is 713-555-5555. Have a wonderful day and enjoy your time off!

Cordially,
Me

So did Mr. Miller reply? HELL TO THE NO! But I did receive a lovely autographed picture, which until now has been safely crumpled up in the trunk of my car under my dirty sneakers, laundry detergent and empty Diet Dr. Pepper bottles!



Don’t you want me baby? Don’t you want me…Oooooooooohhhhhh!

So last Sunday was Mama Diva’s birthday and I decided to make her a special birthday dinner. I sojourned to my local Whole Foods to pick up the ingredients and got a little more than I bargained for.

I’d done most of my shopping when I passed by the flower shop. While I was trying to decide if I’d buy Mama Diva a bouquet, the young lady behind the counter asked me if I needed some assistance. At first I said, not even looking up, that I was just looking. But then a particularly pretty bunch caught my eye and I decided to get them. When I looked up I say the prettiest young woman I’d seen in a long…LONG…time! As I recall this story I wonder if my eyes popped out of my head when I say her because, I kid you not Dear Readers, she was just that pretty! How pretty you ask? Well allowing for individual taste I’d say she was a solid 9 out of 10! She was a bit taller than me, about 5 feet, 6 inches, slim but not skinny, dark brown skin, huge brown eyes, and lots of natural hair. I can’t remember if her hair was twisted, dreaded or just curly [I couldn’t stop staring at her face!] but it was black and really strong and healthy looking and I like that! Oh and she had beautiful white teeth too!

Anyway, she asked me what flowers I wanted and I pointed to a few eclectic looking bunches, asking about the prices. She told me the prices then out of the blue said, You smell good. Is that you or your hair?. So I just smiled and said that it was probably my hair because I’d just washed it. So we’re just sort of standing there smiling at each other (I thought we looked more than a little like idiots) so I indicate that I’d made up my mind about a particular bunch. Then, and this is the kicker Dear readers, she leans in and literally sniffs me! In the most obvious way imaginable! Like we were Pumas! And then she made that “mmmmmmmm” sound and sort of narrowed her eyes a little bit! And did I mention she was leaned in close as well as standing on her toes?!?

Needless to say I was taken aback! Oh what to do, what to damn do! Well I did the only thing I could do in this situation; I ignored it. Or at least pretended to ignore it because really, how could I ignore such an obvious mating ritual? So we settled on two interesting mixes of flowers and she asked me to give her ten minutes while she put the two together. After that I walked around the store trying to comprehend what had just happened. Was she coming on to me? Was she just being friendly? Had my self-imposed relationship exile made me insane and led me to hallucinate the whole scene? And why did I have such an unwelcome, fluttery feeling in my belly?

After about five minutes I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to get home and cook and put this exciting but somewhat nightmarish incident to bed! When I got back to the flower shop she was just finishing my bouquet so I silently thanked God for that. She very sweetly informed me that she’d added four roses and I tried not to take it personally because I had, after all, told her that the flowers were for my mother and not me. While she was wrapping the bouquet I noticed her nametag. You will never guess her name so I’ll just tell you – Sunshine! Damn. She couldn’t have had a more perfect name. And as you can imagine, I thanked her kindly and ran like the freakin’ wind!

So did I totally miss the boat? Was she really even hitting on me? I can never tell when women are hitting on me. It’s so much easier with men because they drool and pant and use bad double entendres and grab you with their filthy, greasy paws! Women are much more subtle and sinister. Ah well, it’s not like I’m going to go back and see her on the pretext of buying more flowers! No Ms. GD has made a vow of no more dating – dating of any kind – and I will stand by that vow. Besides, women are crazy! If something did jump off I’d only find myself clavicle deep in Lesbian Drama and I been there, done that, bought the T-Shirt! But still I can’t help but wonder…

California Randomness On Such A Winter’s Day

Well my Christmas trip to Cali is dunzo but the magical memories live on! Families and Holidays are not two great tastes that taste great together but we continue to put them together because…we like being tortured? Actually I’m exaggerating a bit because I always enjoy myself when I visit Brother Diva and Sister-in-law Diva. But Sister-in-law Diva’s family mixed with Mama Diva is another story all together…

Over The Hills and Through the Tunnel To The City of Angels We Go

As I’ve written before my brother lives in Northern Cali and has done so almost half (if not more) of his life. Unfortunately, the rigors of work and raising a family haven’t given him much of a chance to explore Los Angeles. As luck would have it he was off from work until the first of the year so he was able to ride with me, Mama Diva and Niece and Nephew Diva, to LA for an adventure. We had originally wanted to find an activity that all of us could enjoy but the kids are teenagers so the only thing they could think to do was walk around Universal Studios. Mama Diva likes to get her party on but walking around all day ain’t gonna cut it with her arthritis so we decided to just make the drive to LA and try to decide on something when we got there.

We took the scenic route, The Pacific Coast Highway, and of course I was driving. Let me just say that I do not like driving PCH. I don’t like driving in LA period but PCH has way too many S-Curves, like one right after the other, with steep hills one right after the other and mountains looming on either side of you and Houston is as flat as a pancake and I am just not used to that shizz! But yet and still I am constantly made to drive and suffer through the craziness that is the Cali driver! It must be the year-round warm weather because it is constantly vehicle mating season in that town! All the tailgating always astounds me! And if you want to get over you have to barge in, thus completely stopping traffic, to signal to the driver in the next lane that you intend to get over! I could go on and on Dear Readers but I think you get the picture. Anyway, we decided to go to Bergamot Station but we got lost because I wasn’t familiar with the way we drove in (I usually take the 101) but we eventually found it and we walked around there a bit. The kids were bored out of their minds, especially Niece Diva. I swear the look on her face was pure Abu Ghraib!

We wanted to go to one of our favorite restaurants, Campanile , but we weren’t dressed appropriately so we decided on Pink’s because it was a place neither of us had ever been. If you’re ever in LA you must stop at Pink’s because it is truly fabulous! Sure you’ll gain 10 pounds by just being in the place but it will be the best 10 pounds you ever gained! And when you’re having that heart attack because of your clogged arteries you’ll lovingly lick the chili from your lips as you slip peacefully into the great beyond with the taste of that chili cheese dog still lingering on your tongue! While driving there I noticed the LA County Museum was having a René Magritte exhibit. Oh happy day! Magritte is one of my favorite surrealist painters and I made a mental note to head back to the LACMA (Brother Diva in tow) to see the exhibit. After stuffing our faces we headed back home, overfed and happy…well at least the adults were happy. The youngins were just so happy to be liberated from Bergen-Belsen that they fairly leapt from the car when I pulled into the driveway!

The next day it was decided that Mama Diva would spend the day with Sister-in-law Diva, which would give Bro and I some time to bond. The plan was to head back to LA, check out the LACMA and make it to Campanile for dinner. I was really excited about this because he’d never been to the LACMA and he’d never seen a Magritte up close. It was such a treat to see this museum, which I’d been to many times before, through his eyes! He got to be very adult and talk about art and how that art made him feel. And he’d never seen a Picasso in person so I was there to share that experience with him too, which made me very happy! At dinner it was more of the same, talking about wines and cheeses and all that fancy shmancy shizz long married people with kids rarely get a chance to do. I got to hear all about his job, family and his opinions on life in general; the good and the bad, and he got a chance to vent. Fun times ya’ll!

The Children’s Christmas Program of Doom, The Cake That Would Not Be Baked and Other Tales Of Horror

Our objective was to bake one German Chocolate cake (Bro’s favorite, from scratch) for Brother Diva’s birthday. We thought we had it all figured out but we were far too smug in our cake baking abilities. Also, we underestimated the power of Sister-in-law Diva’s mother. The diabolical one who shall henceforth be called Madame X!

The plan was this: Wake up Sunday morning and leave the house by 8:30am so as to make it to the children’s Christmas program by 9am. Mama Diva would stay for the rest of the church service while I left to start baking. By the time she got back the cake would be cooled so she could make the coconut and pecan icing, ice the cake, and serve it to my brother and the rest of the family while we sang happy birthday. Sounds simple right? Well this is what actually happened:

Mama Diva and I offered to take Madame X to church Sunday morning (She’s elderly and doesn’t drive) so Sister-in-law Diva could concentrate on getting the kids and herself to church as the kids were “on program” as the old folks say. At 8:30am Mama Diva and I were ready but Madame X was still in her housecoat, cooking dinner! At about 8:45am she informed us that she wasn’t going to the Christmas program…at 8:45am! Now the church isn’t very far away but we don’t like rushing so we were understandably pissed! Mama Diva was REALLY pissed ‘cause that’s just how she is but she kept yappin’ about it all the way to church, which didn’t help matters!

As usual, all the children did an excellent job. Especially the little ones with their Christmas speeches – it was cuteness wrapped in sweetness nestled inside adorable ya’ll! So at 10am I hightailed it out of there and headed back to Madame X’s house. What should I find when I opened the door? Madame X’s other daughter baking up a storm and using the ingredients I’d sat out! Now it was my turn to be REALLY pissed! You see, we’d told Madame X that we’d planned to bake the cake and that I was coming home after the 9am service to do the baking. At no time did she mention her daughter would be starting her own bakery from her mother’s kitchen! After some deep breaths and a few bars of Om Shanti Shanti, I called Brother Diva, waking from a deep sleep of course, and asked him if I could come over to his house, changed my clothes, took what was left of my ingredients and made like the proverbial banana and split!

As you can imagine, I was spewing volcanic ash when I got to my brother’s house. I told him all about the last minute change in church plans and the miscommunication with Madame X and his sister-in-law. The conversation was as follows:

Him: So did you cuss her (his sister-in-law) out? [Grinning like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth]
Me: What? No! But I wanted too! I just figured she isn’t a blood relation so she’d have less incentive to keep talking to me if I pissed her off…
Him: [laughs]
Me: Seriously, I don’t understand these people sometimes! I told Madame X I’d be baking you a damn birthday cake! Why didn’t she tell me what was going on?
Him: Now you understand what I’ve been going through for the last 18 years…

Once I’d settled down, borrowed spare ingredients from Brother Diva and set everything up, I noticed I’d forgotten one ingredient so I had to go back to the House of Bakery Horror and get it. After I got back I discovered that Mama Diva, in her infinite wisdom, had placed the recipe in her purse! Not to worry, your intrepid baker went online and retrieved it. But wait! Brother Diva’s hand mixer is busted (Natch) so off he goes to buy another one! While he’s gone I make myself busy with egg separating, pecan pulverizing and playing with my brother’s beautiful doggie Naima the Basenji .

Now remember, I’d left Madame X’s house about 10:30am. It was after 1pm and I hadn’t even started that damn cake! By then Mama Diva had finally made it back from church – Yes that’s right, she’d been sitting in church for almost FOUR freakin’ hours – and she was not pleased to say the least! A typical church service for us lasts 1 hour, 2 hours tops for Christmas and Easter services! So I went back to Satan’s Sweet Shoppe and picked her and the cake recipe up and drove back to my brother’s house to start the cake. The two of us baked the hell out of that cake and it was fun watching my brother turn into a little boy, licking the beaters and the bowl! We even sang happy birthday to him as he blew out his candle. And that candle! My mother found an “Over the Hill” candle shaped like a tombstone that played the Death March. A barrel of laughs is my sweet mother!

After the mini-celebration we headed back to Madame X’s Torte Torture Chamber for we had been summoned, under penalty of extreme annoyance, to come and partake of the meal she had so fiendishly prepared! The night passed peacefully enough but Christmas morning brought with it fresh horror! [Insert evil laugh]

So it’s Christmas morning and we’re all chillin’. Madame X is banging around in the kitchen and Mama Diva and me are doing our own thing. The phone rings and it’s Sister-in-law Diva, she wants me and the mother to come over for dinner. We both think this a little odd because that would mean we’d have two Christmas dinners but we didn’t complain. We just packed up the pressies and headed out to the brother’s house. Dinner was really nice and the five of us (the Niece was getting her hair did at Madame X’s house. Don’t ask!) had a grand old time. I even took Naima out for a walk around the neighborhood. We met one of the neighbors; the conversation was as follows:

Me:[to Naima] Say hello!
Neighbor: Hello!
Me:Wow! I was talking to the dog but you are very obedient!

So after the walk we all headed back to Madame X’s house (except for Little Miss Naima) for Christmas Part 2. Me and the mother headed to our rooms to pack and get ready for bed because we had an extra early flight the next morning. While I was chatting to galaxyMafia on the phone my brother walked in and informed me that I needed to move my belongings to my mother’s room. I said ok and continued to gab. About two minutes later Mama Diva flung open the door and told me to move my ass so I hung up the phone and got to steppin’! Apparently Madame X had invited a relative to stay the night and my mother thought it was silly to have two old ladies sleep in the same bed when the two us were leaving so early in the morning. Well Madame X didn’t want me to move but Mama Diva insisted so we changed the sheets and I moved all my shizz into the spare room.

After all the un-Christmas like exertion I really was exhausted and decided to turn in. While I was dozing off I heard Mama Diva yelling and soon after she came busting into the room we now shared. As you can imagine I was concerned so I asked her what all the hollin’ was all about. She said she’d tried to explain to Madame X that is made no sense to have two people in a bed when we were leaving in the morning but Madame X wouldn’t listen and blah…blah…blobity BLAH! I tried to calm her down by explaining that Madame X never listens to anyone, even her own children, but Mama Diva wasn’t hearing it! So then I tried to explain that yelling at your son’s mother-in-law in front of the in-laws and the grandchildren, probably wasn’t the best way to foster goodwill between the families. Besides, we were heading home and Brother Diva had to stay there and live with the repercussions of that shizz!

Logic and reason prevailed (but just barely) and Mama Diva apologized to the in-laws, the grandchildren and her son. And I was finally able to get the hell to sleep seeing as how I was going to have to drive our asses to LAX in the morning! The flight back was packed and there were the usual annoyances like crying babies, inconsiderate passengers and tight seating but we made it back in one piece. THE END…Or is it? [Insert evil laugh]

And one last thought…

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined. As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler. – Henry David Thoreau

Well Dear Readers, I’ve blown my expository wad! Was it as good for you as it was for me? I know this post was long, rambling and pointless but at least you have the satisfaction of knowing your life isn’t as pathetic as mine. And really, isn’t that what blogging is all about? – GD

I’m writing another damn list …so sue me!

The Love:

Mama Diva
Jesus
Texas

British comedies
Cherries
Chocolate
Cute kids
Danger Mouse
Diet Dr. Pepper
Dogs
Foreigners
galaxyMafia
Honesty
Hugs
Integrity
Massages
Nerds
Non-fiction books
Old Warner Bros. cartoons
Pastries
Pedicures
Political cartoons
Presents
Pretty dresses
Prison Break
Rhythm and Blues
Rugby
Screwball comedies
Sexy panties
Shoes
Silver jewelry
Skinny men
Sleep
Tequila
The color black
Thunderstorms
Yoga

Maybe when I’m feeling less precious I’ll write a list of things I hate. – GD



Precious pic found here

0 Comment

Heavens to Betsy Dear Readers, this has been
one strange and tiresome week for Ms. GD! I’m not sure I can get it all in but I’ll give it the old college try. First I’d like to give a shout out to my co-worker E to tha R to tha I to tha N to tha N for keeping a BIG smile on my face for the last week. Youz a crazy, horny ass, heifer girl!

Therefore, as one of my high school math teachers used to say in her thick Bengali accent, “We will begin at the begigning!”

The Wheels On My Car Don’t Go ‘Round And ‘Round

Damn you General Motors!

Losing ones car is tantamount to losing ones freedom and boy howdy am I feeling seriously on lock right now! I’m currently sharing a vehicle with Mama Diva while I shop for a new car and, well you know how I feel about Mama Diva so I won’t go into that. What I will go into is that I never realized just how much I was psychically linked to my car.

I got Eggbert (That's his name ‘cause he looks like an egg) in 2000 after learning that my Ex had willed it and most of his belongings to me before his death. The Ex and I had a tumultuous relationship but had managed to reconnect just before his death. So there I was, still mourning him when his parents advised me of the wonderful gift he’d given me. My life changed so dramatically after that that it’s difficult to remember what my life was like before. There was no place that was off limits to me (except for Vidor, Santa Fe and certain parts of Pasadena but that’s another story). But more importantly I felt that my Ex was always with me and this helped me tremendously with the mourning process.

I remember driving home from the mechanic's shop after he’d informed me how much it would cost to repair Eggbert (which, sadly enough, was more than little Eggie is worth) thinking that this was it, my connection to the Ex was gone and I started to cry a little but then I thought how silly that was. We meant so much more to each other than a few tons of metal! The very fact that he left his belongings to me and that six years later I’m still thinking about him and loving him proves that.

So I will endure the high pressure sales tactics from slimy car salesmen (no offense to my Dear Readers who are slimy car salesmen) and I will think of the gift my Ex gave me and know that he is part of the reason that I am the person I am today.

Erotic Airplane Interludes And Children of the Lightly Salted Popcorn

And so it would make all the sense in the world that while I’m pondering my place in the universe I would have to hop a plane to Cali with Mama Diva so we could be a part of my niece’s debutant ball festivities. I hadn’t been to Cali in two years so I was actually excited about going. I wasn’t as excited about having to don a formal when I got there but these are the sacrifices we make for our loved ones right?

Because Mama Diva has trouble walking we got priority boarding and let me just say Dear Readers, this is the best way to fly! If you can get an Oldie But Goodie to travel with you I suggest you do. Traveling with the elderly or disabled might seem like a chore but it really is a pleasure. You are whisked through security and sometimes you even get to ride, not walk, through the airport on one of those golf carts. Excellent!

I know what you’re thinking, “We could care less about old people; get to the ‘erotic’ part”! OK then but I just had to say that if it weren’t for Mama Diva I never would have met the hottest guy I’ve ever met!

Okay so I was sitting in the front of the plane and no one would sit next to me! Can you believe that a hundred people passed up the chance to sit at the front of a full airplane? Two empty seats with one fabulous Ms. GD in the third and still no takers? I didn’t believe it either Dear Readers but it happened and I started to feel less than adequate until he walked by:

Him: Are these seats taken?
GD: No and I don’t smell either.
Him: (laughing and quickly taking a seat) Well good and neither do I!
Mama Diva: (suitable embarrassed) Oh my Lord! I can’t believe she said that!
GD: (leaning over front seat and grinning like the Cheshire Cat) See Mama, this worked out better! A good lookin’ man sat next to me!
Mama Diva: (still suitable embarrassed) Oh my Lord!
Him: (chuckles then flashes ginormous and hideously sexy smile)
[laughter and giggles from rest of plane]

As Grady on Sanford and Son would say, Good Googlie Goo! You say you want stats? Okay then, here we go:

Name: Casey
Height: 6ft. +
Weight: Slim limie like Ms. GD like’em
Eyes: Warm Brown
Hair: Brown with very stylish blond highlights
Occupation: Carpenter specializing in custom cabinetry and moldings
Martial Status: Married to high school sweetheart/former model/hairdresser/wedding planner/Wonder Woman/President and CEO of General Electric/Neurosurgeon (Boo! Hiss!)

This was the very first time anyone had ever spoken more than two words to me on a plane and I was so excited! I mean I used to travel a lot by myself and no one so much as made a peep until the beauteous Casey ambled into my life! I was so excited! And then the other shoe dropped.

A family arrived late and the flight attendant asked if anyone would be willing to switch seats so the parents could sit with their children. Two people behind me kindly gave up their seats so the dad and the little boy could sit together. That meant the little girl sat between my beloved Casey and me! Boo! Hiss! Actually it wasn’t all bad. The little girl, Amirah, was a pip; every bit of seven years old with the ability to talk Bin Laden out of his cave. She was a very pretty little thing too; long, dark, wavy hair, pale skin with a patch of freckles on her nose, big, light brown eyes and an infectious laugh. She was also smitten with Casey but because she was a child she was able to grab, pet, stroke and rub him without fear of lawsuits and jail time.

I was forced to look on jealously as she held his hand under the pretense of arm wrestling, stroked his hair, poked his tummy, leaned on his shoulder and gazed lovingly into his eyes. And to Casey’s credit he was very patient. Not once did he lose his cool, which made me desire him all the more! So while Dad and Junior slept peacefully behind us, Casey and Ms. GD entertained the lovely Amirah until she talked herself to sleep. As she was doxing off she grabbed my jacket from my lap and wrapped herself up in it. She’d stretch and switch from Casey’s shoulder to mine. Every once and a while Mom would walk by to check on her but we told her not to worry that she was doing fine and she was.

After the little one was sound asleep, Hotsey and I were able to finish our grown folks conversation. He talked more about his inhuman wife and all her superhuman abilities while I tried not to gag. In fact, he pretty much told Ms. GD his entire life story from the time he was born up to the moment he got on the plane but I didn’t care. I just enjoyed watching his lips move even if I didn’t really care what was coming out of them.

After the plane landed we met up again in baggage claim. I was hoping that with the better lighting he wouldn’t be so drop dead gorgeous but it was not to be. The florescent lighting just made it more obvious that he’d stepped right out of a one of those black and white Calvin Klein ads. Sigh. Goodnight Casey the Carpenter…wherever you are…

The Debutant Dance Of [Intellectual]Death

I don’t get the whole debutante thang Dear Readers. It just seems so very white bread and out dated so imagine my astonishment when Brother Diva announced that his darling girl would be one. Ugh.

I tried to be happy for her but I just couldn’t wrap my mind around the uselessness of it all. Why, in the 21st Century, would a young woman need to be “introduced” to society? The very idea that there is a “society” that anyone would need to be introduced to smacks of elitism to Ms. GD. Can Wellesley, 2.3 children, a house in the suburbs, a republican husband and a Volvo station wagon be far behind?

The thought of upper middle class young women parading around in expensive gowns, bowing and ballroom dancing really just makes me want to projectile vomit but even modern, freethinking radicals like myself must learn to pack in our ideals and support our family even in the face of their misguided attempts to find meaning and a sense of belonging on this big blue ball we call planet earth.

And if anyone can find meaning and a sense of belonging it will be Niece Diva. What a beautiful and accomplished young lady she has become! With her 4.0 grade point average, strong work ethic and bodacious booty she will certainly go far in this world! Despite my concerns I was truly proud of her. Brother Diva and Sisterinlaw Diva have done a wonderful job raising her and she really has worked hard so if wearing a white gown and being recognized by her family and community for her academic, sporting (Oh yes, she’s a jock too!), and social accomplishments gives her a little ego boost them I am all for it! Kudos to you Niece Diva and three cheers on behalf of hardworking womankind everywhere – Hip Hip…Hurrah! Hip Hip…Hurrah! Hip Hip…Hurrah!

Still…debutants? Ms. GD can only pray that if she is blessed with female children they will aspire to something we can both be proud of like becoming Communists, starting an underground, radical political newspaper, grassroots community garden program to feed the hungry or even becoming a Madame of a multi-million dollar prostitution ring! Okay Ms. GD is only half kidding about that last one but while we’re on the subject of sex…


Sex and the Single Older Man

Most of my time in Cali was spent with the family but I did find time to sneak away to Pasadena so I could meet my friend Bill. Oh Bill. Dear Bill. Fifty + year old and fine as good French wine Bill. Damn you Bill!

I’ve known Bill for a while now. We talk on the phone and email each other and it’s all perfectly not innocent and very dirty but seriously Dear Readers, I didn’t think that anything would jump off when we met. As I’ve written before, sex is usually the last thing on my mind…well I mean the sex act is usually the last thing on my mind. Anyway, I drove to Bill’s apartment and when I saw him I had to catch my breath…Yowzer!

I knew Bill had a hot body but to see it up close and in person was almost more than a Ms. GD could handle! I had to have him! I was a wanton slut and I didn’t care who knew it! But alas Bill was too cool for school and me and he made me wait. Damn you Bill!

He made me wait while he did sit ups. He made me wait while he did push ups. He made me wait while he watched television! And then he made me wait some more while he did more push ups and sit ups! He only paid attention to me when I took my top off but of course he didn’t have any condoms so he said he’d just have to tease me and oh my did he! Damn you Bill!

[Sidebar: Just how fine is Bill? Well he’s about 5’11” (give or take), with lots of wavy dark hair, dimples, and an ass that no white man should have. I’m not kidding! I remember a while back I asked him if he had any black people in his family and he laughed and asked me why I’d asked him that. I told him it was because of that super duper ass! I swear it’s like he stole some 20 year old's body and grafted his head on to it! And you know how as we get older our skin loses elasticity? Not Bill! Oh and the kisses! He is such a good kisser! And I don’t even like to kiss!]

But back to the blog…

I wanted to stay the night and Bill wanted me to stay the night but I had to get back and Bill had some sort of bike race he needed to attend the next morning (He’s an avid cyclists which further explains the hot body) so I had to leave unsatisfied. Well, not completely unsatisfied. Magic Bill had managed to give me multiple orgasms without penetration but as is usually the case in these situations, three wasn’t enough. I wanted to fuck us both into oblivion but it was not to be. I took myself and my throbbing nether regions back to Northern Cali and eventually back home.

Damn you Bill!

My Lust Bit The Dust

I couldn’t have Bill (Damn him!) so I tried the next best thing – Young hotness. Last Monday had all the makings of a beautiful night of passion. One sexy young Frenchman? Check! Mama Diva still in Cali? Check! Horny Ms. GD? Check! Plenty of condoms and other sex paraphernalia? Check! So how did it all go so horribly wrong?

I think my young hotness was too young. Truth be told, the last time I fucked someone in their twenties I was also in my twenties and I don’t like to count that time anyway because we were both so inexperienced as to be practically virginal! Now I know every time can’t be earth shattering but while I expect a certain amount of plateauing over the years I didn’t expect full on regression!

It is inconceivable to me that someone so beautiful, with all the raw materials for a rollicking good time in the sack, could be so clueless! Who should I blame? His parents? And besides, I thought the French were supposed to be so good at making ze love? Ugh! So I suppose you want me to tell you exactly what happened? Fine then. Let’s start with the stats:

Name: Eric
Height: 6ft. +
Weight: Slim slimie like Ms. GD like’em
Eyes: Seductive Brown
Hair: Brown and close cropped
Occupation: Student
Martial Status: Single but apparently living the stereotypical French lifestyle in the U.S., that is to say, one “girlfriend”, a “mistress” and several random pieces of ass on the side

He came over and appeared to have an erection as soon as he saw me. So far so good right? I thought so too. Anyway we got to the bedroom and then he kissed me and it was one of the wettest, sloppiest, most disgusting kisses I’d had in a long time! This was the sort of kiss that initially made me stop kissing Dear Readers! But your Ms. GD soldiered on in search of the elusive orgasm. I finally get him naked and I was very pleased. More than pleased actually, delighted would be a good word. He had a swimmers build and a lovely cock. I let him slobber on me a little more just to get him in the mood then…action took place. No orgasm but I thought he’s young so I shouldn’t worry about premature ejaculation and besides, he’s young so he’ll be able to make up for it later. Right?

Dear, Dear Readers, I tried everything I knew how (And Ms. GD knows a lot) to get him erect again. I offered him back rubs; a shower together, a nap as well as more fellatio but he wouldn’t take it. After he’d put his clothes back on he informed me that he’d been fucking all weekend. In fact, he’d had sex just a few hours before he came to see me.

Can you say livid?

I wanted to stab him in the chest but I was just too damn exhausted from all the previous travel and all the shaving and exfoliating I’d done for his sorry ass! Oh and did I mention that it was only 9:20pm? He'd arrived at my place at 9pm.

And would you believe that for the next forty minutes me sat on my bed and talked to me. Yes you read that right – talked. I should have just told him to get the hell out and filed suit against him for breaking all the Booty Call Laws but I’m a nice person in spite of my best efforts to the contrary. Also, I kept hoping against hope that he’d be able to get it up again!

All Monsieur Eric was able to get up was my back especially since he appeared to be so stupid! Now normally a pretty yet stupid man wouldn’t bother me but this one did because he insisted on speaking when all I wanted was sex. For example, he looked at my night table and noticed my bottle of ID Lubricant. Can you believe he actually asked me what it was and what it’s used for? I was more than a little flummoxed as I stuttered a response! It took my explanation a while to sink in and when it did I swear I saw a lightbulb go off over his head! Then we wanted to know why I had a leather paddle and what it was used for. But the biggest WTF was when I noticed his swarthy appearance and asked him where his family was from, before they arrived in France. He became defensive and wanted to know why I wanted to know. Eventually he admitted that he didn’t know or wasn’t exactly sure.

This made me even more curious because he was so obviously not Anglo in appearance so I started throwing out names of countries in Africa and the Middle East. At first he claimed to not know what Algeria was but then he caught on and mentioned Tunisia and other French protectorates/colonies. Still I wasn’t getting anywhere so I asked him his last name. He gave me a typically French surname but then he added that "Ben" was also part of it. This made me sit up a bit because I know Ben means Son of in the Jewish community. Hmmm. He looks like an Israeli; he’s circumcised (unlike many Europeans) and his full surname is Ben ______? He’s Jewish then? So why wouldn’t he want to tell me? Did he think I’d kick him out of my bed? Well I wanted to kick him out of my bed but certainly not for being Jewish!

And fancy me meeting the one Jew who doesn’t want to talk about it? Maybe he isn’t a practicing Jew? No, even the non-practicing ones will admit it. Maybe it’s some sort of weird, self-loathing thing only European Jews have? Odd…very odd. Anyway, he finally got tired of flapping his gums and left. I was so tired I couldn’t even masturbate. I took a long, hot shower and fell into a blissfully, dreamless sleep.

It’s been difficult being left so damn horny with no one to comfort me but I’ve made it through. Lent is here and I’m so busy fasting and praying that my unscratched itch is slowly starting to fade. With any luck the memory of my adventure in Pasadena, CA and its aftermath will fade much like that itch. Sill a girl can't help but think…I wonder what Bill’s doing for Spring Break this year? - GD

I don’t remember exactly what prompted my memory of my first period. I was sitting in my chair at home, reading or watching TV when all of a sudden it came to me, the thought…not the period. I must admit that while the memory of that fateful day made me smile I was in no way nostalgic for that time period. As the great comedienne Jackie "Moms" Mabley said, “Who wants things like they ‘used to be’”? Not me Moms…not me…

I grew up in a family of five, two parents and one brother and sister, bother older. As I’ve said before my parents were very religious but also quit pragmatic. They saw no value in keeping their children in the dark about anything, especially sex. This worked out well for us kids because we never had to worry about getting erroneous information from “the street”. I also think having this knowledge made us less promiscuous but that’s another post altogether.

We grew up knowing the proper names for reproductive organs and when we were old enough, told point blank how they worked. I don’t remember getting the menstruation talk exactly but I do remember that I wasn’t that impressed; having to bleed to reproduce seemed like a design flaw to me. I thought, couldn’t The Creator have made the process more efficient and a less problematic? My sister suffered from horrendous cramps when she had her cycle and severe depression when she didn’t get it because she always thought she was ill. My mother suffered from relentless abdominal pain and eventually had to have a hysterectomy. Add to that all my aunts, cousins, and male family members who complained and joked about it and who could blame me for thinking menstruation was some sort of punishment?

I made up my mind then and there that this “period” thing would never happen to me. I had all the accoutrements of puberty (breasts, womanly hips, pubic hair, etc) and I was already thirteen years old, four years older than my mother and sister when they started. I may not be able to have babies, I thought, but then again, I don’t want any!

Then the mood swings started or maybe a more appropriate description of my emotional state at that time would be mood hurricanes. I was a terror! My parents tried everything from spankings to grounding but nothing worked. Looking back I wonder if they ever thought about an exorcism. They probably did but they loved me too much to say it to my face I expect.

I remember after a particularly atrocious day at school, getting home and banishing myself to my room. I was sitting at my desk, doing my homework when my stomach began to hurt. I tried ignoring it but I eventually couldn’t take it anymore and headed for the bathroom. After I’d…done what I was there to do, I turned to flush the toilet when I noticed…THE BLOOD! Everything my mother taught me went right out the door and I started screaming my head off! My mother heard me and ran upstairs, yelling if I was okay. All I could do was point at the toilet and cry. She walked over and sheepishly looked inside. Then she started to laugh. When I saw her laughing it finally hit me what had just happened and then I began to cry in earnest!

I mother tried to comfort me but it was not to be. This was the end. I’d made the move from child to woman and I was not happy about. I cried all through the maxi pad use talk and my mother’s explanation of how wonderful this event really was and how happy I’d be in the future when I could hold my first baby in arms. I cried while I listened to her call every female in our family to share the good news. I cried while I sipped my hot tea and then I cried myself to sleep. This was the end. I was finally a woman with all the rights and privileges thereof. Damn you menses!

Fast forward to 2006 and I still hate my period. I hate the way it smells. I hate the way my face breaks out. I hate having to have four different tampon absorbencies. I hate having to strain my brain thinking about when my last cycle was when I go to the gynecologists and I hate the look on her face when she realizes I don’t keep track of it. But most of all I hate the fact that I had to start it in the first place!

To this day my mother swears that it was the sheer strength of my will that held back the onset of menses for so long and I tend to agree. I think it speaks to my character now; implacable tenacity even in the face of certain disappointment. I know life sucks but I won’t give in. Besides, what choice do I have? Giving in to the period will just mean the terrorist will have won. Right?

If I’m ever blessed with female children I can only hope to be as loving and as patient as my parents were with me when the dreaded Period Monster attacked me. With no provocation I might add! - GD