Saturday, June 26, 2010

Playas'

On Father’s Day, a friend of mine… a guy of course… was catching a lot of shit over his viewpoints about fathers. Women were all ready to come out swinging and bashing men about how they’d been done wrong. Some had gone through relationship after relationship with the wrong kind of guy, or staying far too long in the worst relationships. (raising hand here)

As women, I will be the first to admit that I don’t always know what we are thinking when it comes to those despicable guys. Ladies like the bad boys, them sexy mo fo’s that are out for nothing but a little fun… Admit it, boys you know who you are and ladies… you know who I am referring to… the Playas’.

Dating the Playas’ is so hard to resist. It’s like that chocolate cake that is deliciously hard-to-resist but full of fat and calories.. so why do we eat it? Well, I’ll tell ya. It tastes damn good that’s why. Mmm mmm, yummy yummy, all the way down to the last drip, drip, drop. But like any piece of cake, you have to know when enough is enough. I mean come on.

Then there are the relationships that we have been in faaaar too long with that guy we know isn’t going to commit… or change. This is the guy who you have been dating going on four years and you are practically living with… practically. And then there is the guy who leaves his shit all over the place… I mean the guy who leaves HIS SHIT any where he can; and then there is the guy when you come home and only to find him surfing the net on a porn site trying to buy Bambi a new set of boobs. (again raising hand!)

The problem isn’t so much the men here.. it’s us ladies. Now before you start booing and hissing, and throwing your stuff at the computer monitor and sending me HATE mail, just hear me out.

Woman can be the most low-down dirty of ‘em all and I’m saying this as a women. We are just as guilty of doing everything we accuse the men of, and then some. Women are fierce; and men … well, they often land a little more on the dense side.

For the most part, men are pretty simple… they are the breeders. It’s deeply ingrained in them, which is why it’s every man’s ideal to have that little chip off the ol’ block that they kindly refer to as “Junior.” It goes all the way back to the stone ages where they knocked us out and dragged us back to their caves. Once satisfied, they’d settle down, becoming the head of their brood.

You rarely ever see men single or alone. They pretty much like our companionship… and definitely like the gold nestled between them there hills. They are kinda like little puppies that just follow us around because they can’t shake the smell of that biscuit. But women… women have an agenda. They play to win. Women are the biggest Playas’ of ‘em all.

Do you know that the biggest addiction that we face today isn’t drugs or alcohol? It’s control. And it all started out with a little thing called, Women’s Lib and that first chick who burned her bra. So if you are pissed off at your man, blame that bitch! It’s her fault. The truth is she prolly was flat-chested and she needed the attention!

I think women's lib has totally messed up the role of men in our lives. Prior to that, men were all about taking care of business and even quite gentlemanly. But at some point because of some bad apples, someone got it in her head that we needed to be the ones in control, not the men. (and many, many still are) So these new Playas’ took over the control and power from all the men out their need to be independent.

I looked up independence in the dictionary, check it out… Independence is an adjective that somehow with Women’s Lib became more like a noun. The dictionary says that Independence is “not influenced or controlled by others in matters of opinion, conduct, etc.; thinking or acting for oneself” So how exactly are men supposed to fit into relationships anyway… ?

But after so much time of this independence crap, the men, dumb as they are, were walking around in circles saying… Which way did they go.. which way did they go? They got lost, not even sure where the hell they fit in anymore; tired and hungry they said, ‘screw it and gave up.’ Giving up is easy; it’s human nature to take the easy road. Let’s face it, we’re ALL guilty of taking the path of least resistance instead of taking the path of hard work that lead’s to our growth. That’s why God made prostitutes… and the Lotto.

Part of the issue is that we raise our men not to be emotional. We say, ‘boy, don’t cry, tough it up, be a man.’ Twenty years later when they did grow up, they don’t know how to deal with their emotions and then we come back at them whining.. ‘you aren't being sensitive to my needs.’ Hello… how can they? They don’t know how because we never taught them to deal with anything on an emotional level when we took a little package we lovingly call, NADS.

This is not to say that men should catch a free ride. But it's gone on for so long now, and to the extreme that they are essentially now like little boys and have become quite lazy. Not all. But a lot of them. Gosh, it does gives a whole new meaning to the word Cougar these days doesn’t it?

Then there is another really big issue that goes back to the Playas’ of independence… women. When a woman finally does give up and say to her man… enough is enough, and tells him to step up and kicks him to the curb; and then some other Playa comes along and says, ‘hey baby I will take you because I don’t need, nor have, the self-esteem enough to turn you away.’ Oh and ladies… stop believing that you are the exception to the rule or that you can change them. Can anyone change you?

So ladies, if you want men to be men, then get out of the driver’s seat and let them BE your man. They genuinely WANT to be providers; they LOVE taking care of us, and will go that extra mile because it is within their DNA to do so. It really gets them off to literally get us off… seriously. And if you don’t believe me, just ask ‘em. Even if they say no, watch the smile plastered on their faces as they are thinking of the biscuit…

So peeps, if you want to see change in your relationships then you have to change. Stop playing the games, otherwise, you’re gonna see pattern after pattern of the same ol’ thing… and then nothing changes, just another game of the Playas’….

Here is a little advice my mama always told me… a vision, without execution, is merely a hallucination.

ok I am ducking out of here. (literally)

peace

Copyright © Shelli Buhr 2010

Saturday, June 12, 2010

SHOWDY... What Happened?

Earlier today, I was looking through FaceBook at one if my new friends that I just accepted. Oh my, this guy was fine... with a capital SHOWDY.

oh wow... I think I just figured out what that means. (For those of you who don’t know… SHOWDY is what a brothah calls a sistah, 'Showdy!')

See, I think they are really saying, 'Shit Howdy'... because Shit Howdy was the first thing that was aiming to come out of my mouth at that moment… I mean, this guy was hot ... Wooo weee, SHawwwteeEEE !

Anyway... I digress.

I am perusing his FaceBook page and...

Did you ever notice that the word perusing was a bit of an oxymoron? The description is to 'scrutinize, look over with detail,' but the overall flow of the word scrutinize is very casual, like you are casually browsing over the page. My parents would scrutinize over my attire, my boss scrutinizes over my timecard. Hmmm, seems to me, there is absolutely nothing casual about scrutinizing.

Sorry… I digress, yet again. Back to Prince Delectable.

I am perusing casually over his FaceBook page and I come across links for several of his sisters. Curious to meet the future members of my family, I clicked on the first one. YIKES. She was hideous. Lawdy, what the hell happened here? It was like taking a drink of a Pepsi and it's really an Iced Tea. Iced Tea!! My brain went into a meltdown as my taste buds go into udder chaos. Did I say udder. hmmm, wonder what part of the unconscious that came from?

I decided to go back to the picture of my guy to see if maybe there was something I was missing, you know, like he was adopted or sumthin. I mean, she didn't look anything like him. So I am thinking that it must have been a fluke. Besides, the other sisters couldn’t be that bad. I go back to the links… a little scared… like I am walking into the barn after all of my cute girlfriends have been brutally murdered... and at the crescendo of the music playing in my head, I clicked on the next link. Well, she wasn’t as bad as the first one, but still a tad scary. A decapitation would have done some good here.

It’s not that I think all people should be pretty in order to be validated or anything like that. I, myself, have an ass the size of my chair so I can’t exactly talk; but it was the comparison. The mere shock of it all. I am looking into marrying into this family and God forbid should I ever think about having children after the trauma I just experienced. After all, I am thinking of the kids.

I stopped there. Lost in what was happening in the moment. Dreams lost, fantasies shattered. How could his genes from the same family be so different? I mean this guy would've been like lickin’ a giant Fudgesicle on a stick. Yummmy.. and there was no fudge lickin’ on any of those other sticks, I tell ya! I guess if you could find the stick.

Just saying is all.


Copyright © Shelli Buhr 2010

Monday, June 7, 2010

FaceBook: Tales of the Darkside

Do you know how many wacky people roam the halls of FaceBook? I do. Some are friends. (Just ask if you need me to get you the hook up)

I get the strangest emails from people who decide... hey, I want to send you to send me an email. I guess that is one of the pitfalls of being an unheard of celebrity. Just famous enough to have to beg, plead, and borrow for this kind of sordid attention.

Kidding. PU-lease do not send me email. I will block, report, and send Bruno over.

I decided to create my own FaceBook: Tales of the Darkside label and start posting stories of some of my adventures on FB. Feel free to email some of your fav's too!

Life's too short. Let's get a good laugh out of it!


Copyright © Shelli Buhr 2010

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Vanity? or Insanity?

I have never understood what the whole deal was with Vanity plates. I mean, what exactly is their purpose? Is it just about who can think up the cutest phrase, or are we really being serious about making statements that proclaim to the world more about who we are? Is the Vanity plate about being Vain, or Insane, or maybe just a little stupid?

I will be the first one to admit that there are some really good vanity plates out there. People can get pretty creative in making a statement about themselves. A couple of the goodies that I have seen are MYTWUK, SPEDEMN or LAKRFAN. There are also the plates that use the symbols to get their point across… like the one I really like, and should have been on my sister’s car… SH’O’PPER with a Heart symbol for the letter O, for someone who loves to shop; or ‘HAND’EMAN, that is written with a Hand symbol and the word ‘eman’ next to it. Since these people sported Lakers flags, or were attached to a white work truck, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what the vanity plate meant.

But then you get some people that take it to the opposite end of the spectrum where it takes you forever to figure out what the plate actually means... and even then, we still may never get it. Again, let's reiterate that I did NOT take the little yellow bus to school… but when someone almost hits a telephone pole attempting to figure out what the plate actually meant, then it goes into the category of what I now call, the insanity plate.

Here are some other examples of what I think fall under the Insanity plate. Some people just want to see how clever they are and basically use any word, even if it has no personal meaning for them. Why…? That makes absolutely no sense to me. (or cents, for that matter) Do you realize that you are paying a FEE to put some pointless word on your car? Buy a plate and pour your heart out! Don’t we have enough in our lives that is meaningless? I would avoid using those embarrassing words PHATFRE, unless of course you are… fat free on both counts, because the woman I saw driving was PHATFUL and not because she was PHAT and a bag of chips. She was all that because of a lot bags of chips.

It’s like people do it simply because they can, like they have somehow tricked the DMV by getting away with word cunning. Cunning language…tee hee.. Like who cares if you got the word NIGHT on your car, I mean, DUH. Unless it’s your name, what’s the point; unless you are an astronomer, what’s the point of putting “URANUS” on your license plate. Oh… hahahaha… that one I got.

But here is the biggest peeve for me: those confessions of love…. The plates with just the initials like JS ____ KS or the plate that has a heart in the middle of the letters, DM and GJ. I mean, I got that James Smith married Kim Smith, and Gina loves Derek sooo much that she needs to drive around in her car with her proclamation of love written on it BUT why not save yourself a few bucks and a lot of embarrassment?

See, my question is, if it's not Derek's car, or James didn't ask you to write your plate in that order, well... it looks kind of… I hate to say it but... a little pathetic. See, here is the skinny... (are ya paying attention PHAT?) When us drivers look into your car after the intrigue of reading your plate, it's like the bubble of our illusion has been burst and we have been catapulted back to reality. Hard!

Why add the guy’s initials first, instead of saying like it is… Kim, if it's your car... just say that you love James. Does it validate the marriage more to write James first? Because Kim, we all are thinking that perhaps this is your way of telling yourself, (and everyone who will listen) that 'James loves... er, loved, you,’ and that maybe you aren’t even sure anymore.

Let me ask you something... Did you ask yourself… Hey, what happens if we split? If we divorce? Then you now have to drive around with the fact that ‘James once loved Kim;’ but James now owns a Porsche and has moved on to a daily ritual of Viagra and Rogaine for his new life with Emma. I mean, it’s not like we can cross it out and start over. Nope. You bought ‘em, you live with them. Then again, I guess you can divvy ‘em up in the divorce settlement.

It’s kind of the same thing for those star crossed lovers, Derek and Gina… I am sorry. Truly... truly sorry but if it’s not Derek’s car (judging by the driver) it probably wasn’t James' idea to get those plates; therefore, all of us in bubble-land are thinking that those are probably the plates that stem from low self-esteem; Gina made sure that the whole world knew they were together but divulged even more information as she entered onto the walkway of shame as she turned in the plates to her local DMV.

So I guess the moral of this story kiddies, is to never put anything in writing, or metal, that you can’t easily undo, reverse, or get out of… without costing yourself money, time, or further embarrassment. Ask yourself some very important questions first. Is this going to make me look Hot, or Not?

There is a very thin line between sporting Vanity plates or Insanity plates, and it usually stems from our over-inflated egos, and all-to-hidden agenda based on insecurity unless you just want to pay more money to your local DMV. Just ask James who thought he dodged that bullet as he chucked those JS ____ KS plates for the sporty new HOTT911 plates that go with his new Porsche… but his ignorance became quite apparent as he drives down PCH on a warm, breezy day with the top down, comb-over waving to all those passing by. Hot and Not, I tell ya.

But then again…Vanity and Insanity… are far too often, subjective.


Copyright © Shelli Buhr 2010