Sugar N Spice

Obama Health Plan Decision

A friend of mine sent this to me a couple of days ago and I laughed my ass off. So, if you haven't read it, enjoy.  --SUGAR

The phone rings and the lady of the house answers. 

"Hello?" 

"Mrs. Sanders, please."

"Speaking." 

"Mrs. Sanders, this is Dr. Jones at St. Agnes Laboratory.  When your husband's doctor sent his biopsy to the lab last week, a biopsy from another Mr. Sanders arrived as well.   We are now uncertain which one belongs to your husband.  Frankly, either way the results are not too good." 

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Sanders asks nervously.
 
"Well, one of the specimens tested positive for Alzheimer's and the other one tested positive for HIV.  We can't tell which is which." 

"That's dreadful!  Can you do the test again?" questioned Mrs. Sanders. 

"Normally we can, but the new health care system will only pay for these expensive tests just one time." 

''Well, what am I supposed to do now? " 

"The folks at Obama health care recommend that you drop your husband off somewhere in the middle of town.  If he finds his way home, don't sleep with him."

Fat Joe and His Sexy New Track

Fat Joe holds a special place in my heart because over the years, he has consistently released hot, syrupy, sticky sweet songs with beats that would make even the oldest granny wiggle her tailfeather. His latest collaboration with J. Holiday, "I Won't Tell" is an instant classic. J. Holiday's voice is a perfect compliment to the sexy beats that play throughout the song and Fat Joe is well, Fat Joe. Cool, confident and slightly playful, making his songs always great for airplay--and foreplay........

If you haven't heard "I Won't Tell" yet, pull up a chair and sit a spell. Well, you probably won't be sitting once that beat drops, but it won't hurt to try. --SUGAR

I Now Pronounce Thee, Showerhead and Wife

My apartment complex has been undergoing major renovations. Everything from the parking lot pavement to the shrubbery and trees to the toilets and as of yesterday, mailboxes, have been replaced. Last week, I received a notice that they'd be replacing my commode and thought nothing of it. The one I had was perfectly fine so far as I could see, but when I got home that evening after they'd put the new one in, I noticed it was all bright and shiny, and a bit smaller than the last one so I appreciated the gesture and kept it moving. Then, later that night when I got ready to shower so that I could retire to my bed, I pulled back my shower curtain, turned on the water and heard a new, different sound. The sound of true power and force. I looked up and it was almost as if I could hear angels playing harps on high--there was a shiny new shower head.

One of my favorite parts about staying at swanky hotels is the nice shower heads. So reliable and powerful, just like, oh say...you know, whatever else you require good reliability, power and force from... When I heard that familiar sound in the privacy of my own home, it was enough to make shivers go down my spine. I'll skip the details, but by the time I'd gotten out of that shower, I had probably used enough water to quench the thirst of at least 100 of those kids from the "Feed the Children" commercials. I couldn't break free from the powerful grip that water was holding on me!

When I got out of the shower, I collected my thoughts, lotioned myself up and lay in my bed fully aware of just how badly this latest bout of the "I need some di$k" is going to be. I'm determined to keep these legs closed, but I know myself and when I start grinning a little too much at those slick types that have gotten me in entirely too much trouble in the past, that's when I really have to shut 'em down and keep my ass in the house before I catch a bad one. So, until then, meet my new boo. That's his picture here in the post. He's an environmentalist. *sigh* --SUGAR

Match Dot Com Has Lost Its Mind!

I know I'm all January 2nd with this, but Happy New Year. I haven't really been in a blogging mood and my absence from the plantation for over a week has not given me my usual drive and necessity to pass the time with one of my favorite mistakes...blogging. So, sue me. I hope that if you stop by here on a regular basis, you had a great, safe holiday season. I will be stopping by your blogs this evening to sneak a peek at what you've been up to. I hope I haven't missed too much, but I'm sure I have. And, if you are stopping by here for the first time today, I hope you enjoy the view and I hope you too had a safe and joyous holiday season.

Let me first say, YouTube is a bitch. Without rehashing the sordid details, let me just say it took everything in me not to slash tires and bust out windshields all in a fit of shock at how wrong I was about one man. How bamboozled I felt. Anyway, I'm over it now, but a word of caution to anyone reading this. Think twice about what you post up on YouTube...feel me? Good.

I've had a nice long vacation that included lots of rest and relaxation and I think I'll be able to head back into the office tomorrow renewed. I'm excited about the year ahead and I'm glad to be alive. I have so much I want to say, especially with regards to dating and all the like, but let me delve into one subject briefly before I head to Giant to get some crab claws to cook up in here this evening. They better have them in stock too...damn, I hadn't considered that they may not have them. Isn't it the worst when you have your mind set on something only to find out you can't have it?

I was driving my car yesterday, listening to the radio after having donated blood getting the year started off right doing my civic duty and all (don't forget to donate some rice!) when I hear a commercial that I initially thought must have been a parody or something. It was a commercial encouraging people to sign their friends up for Match dot com in order to help them get hooked up. The horror!!! Can you imagine? Can you just imagine? Let me tell Spice and any of my other friends who sneak and read this blog and yet act like they don't--sign me up for some Match dot com without my permission and I will beat yo ass to a pulp. A soupy, slightly lumpy pulp.

I mean, what a horrific thing to do to a person! Have you heard this commercial? Would you do this to a friend? Would you be angry if someone did it to you? Just terrible! Check out Scarface, "Girl You Know" below...just because this song really needs an entire blog to itself, but I don't have the energy today. *sigh* Damn you Scarface!! for making a song that is so damn slimy, but with a beat that can't be ignored!!! --SUGAR

Rub and Tug? Anybody?

I was visiting Don't Date Him Girl last night to check out the new features because they were supposed to relaunch the site on Monday, but it's been a while since I visited, so I can't really tell what's new. Anyway, the site is hilarious and before I go any further, let me say that I don't laugh at the plight of those women in their moment of scorn and derision. I know very well what that's like. However, the way those ads are written is pure comedy!

Last night on the site, I learned that those freaky massage parlors are called "rub and tugs" in some regions and I laughed for a good solid minute as I read the description of one of the alleged losers on that site. Anyway, check them out when you get a chance. I've never made a submission there, but the very asshole that inspired me to join forces with Spice to start this blog almost "got it". I could have written pages and pages about that asshole. It's been almost two years since that train wreck of a relationship ended, but I still pray for God's wrath on his head. Every.Single.Night. I'm kidding. I don't pray for God's wrath on his head [every night], but he does have it coming. Who am I fooling? I'm sure he's already gotten a lot of "it". I just wish I could see it. Somehow though, I always get word of, or get sight of those who have wronged me--paying it all back.

Speaking of paying it all back. Have you donated some rice today? Click on the "Free Rice" button on the right side of the page to do your part to feed some folks today. And, you dumb motherfu*kers [you know who you are], don't give up. Just keep trying to get at least one bowl of rice for the needy! Sheesh! Some of youse will be clicking for an hour to get one damn cup of rice with those paltry vocabularies. If you gotta pull out the dictionary to get some help. Do it! It's all for a worthy cause. Now, let me give you a little treat for all of your hard work. Check out Michael Jackson's "We've Had Enough" below in the unofficial video. I don't care what anybody says about that freak man, he will release a song with a strong message like nobody's business!! So powerful! Your friend. --SUGAR

When Women Act Like Junkyard Dogs

If you should find yourself asking a man, or even pondering asking, to smell his dick to verify whether he's been faithful....You my sister have lost it. Fellow blogger, Ebonne [see Renaissance Black Woman in the blogroll to the left], deserves all credit for hipping me to this little jewel in the ether. A cracked out, Sims style video on YouTube set to the tune of some chicks singing "Let Me Smell Yo Dick". I must admit, it is absolutely hilarious. Especially when the cartoon chick bends down in front of her man's zipper to get a whiff, but it is also very sad. Somewhere, as I type this, some woman is all up in her man's grill, slapping him, scratching him and hitting him all the while screaming, "Where in the hell have you been!!?"  Thank God I've never had it that bad. And, for you sophisticated women reading this, don't think for a minute that it can't happen to you. I'm very well aware that it could happen to me. By the "it", I mean, the mojo...and I'll leave it at that.

Now, this is what we must all face and deal with head on. When we allow ourselves to stoop to a level so low that we are willing to smell a man's penis for verification's sake? We have essentially become no better than the run of the mill junkyard dog. Just guarding and protecting and trying to hold and keep--a piece of junk, shit, trash, whatever you want to call it. But, when you are trying to hold on to a no good man, which he must be as evidenced by the fact that you feel the need to smell his dick [that or, you are psycho, which case we can talk about on another day], it is what it is!

Check this, from eHow.com on How to Breed a Junkyard Dog:

1. Decide what kind of a dog you want and the attributes the dog should possess. The dog should probably be balanced, in that it will be easily trained, perform its duty of guarding the junkyard after hours, yet not be uncontrollable by its owners, thus putting the public at risk. The dog should also be loyal to its owner, as well as naturally protective of its territory.
2. Research the breeds and learn which breed of dog closely matches the attributes listed in the above.
3. Search for a sire and a dam in the chosen breed, being careful to observe the dogs in action and with their owners. Dogs that come from a kennel where their owners treat them well, yet require balanced behavior from their animals, are among the best candidates.
4. Pick from the litters of the sire and dam you have chosen. The puppy should be confident and not too timid. A dog that is excessively dominant or timid would not be a good candidate for a junkyard dog.
5. Start training the dog when it is still young. When the puppy is old enough, enroll it in obedience class.

You see, most women who lash out in the way the Sims sister did in the video below are doing it, guarding that piece of shit, because they don't feel they have a hope of finding anything better. That, and "the mojo". But, I implore you my sister, to really take a step back and try to picture the last time you had to ask him to smell his dick. Do this when you are alone so that you can really think about this. Is that how you really want to carry things? Smelling some man's hot dick and nuts [Bygbaby?] to find out whether it's been in his boxers all day other than catching some air while he relieves himself?

If so, oh well. You know what they say. One woman's junk is another woman's treasure. --SUGAR

Personal Massagers: A Girl's Real Best Friend

I know that some of you are nervously clutching your pearls as you begin reading this, thinking to yourselves, "Waitaminite now! Where is she heading with this!?" But let's really think about this. I've said here before. I love a nice piece of jewelry. I don't have a whole lot of nice jewels, but I'm growing more and more fond of nice pieces and slowly obtaining them. So, diamonds are near and dear to my heart. But, a diamond ain't never made me shiver.

When I was in South Carolina this past weekend, my mother, sister, two nieces and I were in Walmart [didn't everybody go there at least once last weekend?] when I noticed a display case that had small "Personal Massagers" for $4.97. Now, I don't currently own a "personal massager" but I have been known to  have one on hand for those cold and lonely nights in the past. But, I had to get rid of the last one I owned because I was wearing that thing out!!! It was too much and I needed to come up for air! It was difficult weaning myself off of that thing, but I managed to successfully. I felt like Pookie in New Jack City some nights, because once you've found yourself a great "personal massager" unless you are with a man, you don't really want to try out too many other methods...but I made it through "detox" in one piece.

Oh shuddup! Don't act like you don't/didn't/haven't!! When I saw the price of Walmart's offering, and it looked so compact and ready for "the job" [mmmmm] I almost leapt. But, I didn't because I didn't want my mother to see me buying it!!! I mean, the thought of her asking me about it was too much to bear!! And, trust me she would have said something. "Why are you getting that? Is your back bothering you? Maybe you should go to the doctor if your back is bothering you. I don't think that thing is going to really be able to help your back...How long has it been bothering you?" I just couldn't bear it. So, I walked away, staring over my shoulder at "what might have been".

Now, back to my posit that diamonds are not a woman's best friend. We all owe a special homage to the one  who created the "personal massager" whomever that is, and I don't feel like Googling it. I watched a doc on the History Channel a few weeks ago that talked about how they used to be used for "medicinal" purposes back in the day, but I can't remember if credit was given to any single brave pioneer who didn't think it a crime to explore her own nether-region. Although I do recall the doc mentioning that there was evidence of some primitive "personal massagers" before man had even invented the wheel. Okay, I can't remember for sure if it was before the wheel was invented, but it was a long damn time ago. Google it for yourself. I think that documentary I'm speaking of is called simply, "Sex" and different aspects are explored on each episode.

Diamonds are gorgeous. Diamonds are precious. Diamonds are great. And, long after the man I'm to marry has slipped that rock onto my finger and asked me to be his, I will cherish it with all of my heart and love him to the day I die. BUT, when he's on that road, getting it done to pay those bills or hell going to a football game with his boys--and I get that "itch" [you know the one]. If I want to go ahead and scratch it right quick, no matter how hard I stare into those prisms of light, a diamond just isn't going to get the job done. But, that "personal massager". Ohhhh, that personal massager...forgive me for the mild blasphemy, but THAT is a friend that sticks closer than a brother.

Now, if I can only remember to get to Walmart tonight to buy myself a good old pal. Who says you can't buy friends?  --SUGAR

Lights, camera....ACTION!

Have you ever wondered if you are the main character/actor of a movie and your life is being watched then taped and eventually viewed by millions of people throughout this world. I think Jim Carey starred in a film that played on this theme a few years ago...I'm sure the movie was not a number one blockbuster hit but for some reason I can't get that thought out of my mind today. Trust me, I am not a paranoid person, at least not most of the time, but just the mere thought that we might not be real ( as far as this thing called life is concerned) is a eerie feeling.  Okay, so what does this have to do with a relationship blog.....A LOT! Why you ask? Well, if I am not real that means that all those fools I dated were really jerks because they were casted to create havoc and destruction in my life.  Trust me, if I find out this is the truth and there is a hidden  camera inside this computer ..... I am going to be in studio B also known as "Jail" tonight. Seriously though, I sometimes feel like things in life just don't add up no matter how much you try to make sense out of everything. Who knows? Does anyone know what I am talking about? About two years ago I decided to toss in the towel and just ride out this life like a women in the wild with no reason or consequences.....(okay within reason). To be honest, I've had some good times........ although I still handle everything with a cautious eye because who knows if God is the only one watching or maybe there are a million people eating popcorn waiting for me to take the lethal bait at 12am at night with some loser named Jamal.  The dating scene is currently going through a drought on the east coast so maybe big brother will have an open casting call pretty soon because I need a new leading man in my life. Hopefully the producer who is reading this will tell the director to make sure he is good looking, tall, attractive, and prays often during the next scene of my life. ~~SPICE~~

Married in Second Life, Alone in 3-D

Wednesday night, as I struggled to get to sleep, I turned my cableless television in my bedroom to the program that always seems to help me drift on off--the CBS overnight/early morning news. You know, the one that comes on at about 2 or 3am. So, I'm watching and they're talking about the Oprah school drama (don't you know folks are just salivating hoping the school crumbles? Haters) when a story begins that really peaked my interest. It was a story about the online phenomenon that is Second Life. A story about a Second Life wedding to be exact. SNS reported on the first Second Life millionaire some months ago. Do a search to the left of the page to read more about that.

Anyway, so the package detailed the growing trend for Second Life singles to meet and fall in love, in this virtual world and apparently in real life (as in, in their hearts and minds...many never meet in person), and subsequently decide to have a wedding over the ether, complete with bridesmaids, a reception, cutting of the cake, the whole nine...yeah. I mean, there are Second Life wedding planners, caterers, all of it! So, the couple that was being profiled was a woman who was in her late 40's to early   50's if I remember correctly (shame on CBS for not having posted the video yet!!!) and a man who refused to appear on camera--oh yeah, he's married...in REAL LIFE. His REAL LIFE WIFE has no clue about this Second Life wife...yeah. That's not them in the picture. I'll get to my point for using that photo in a minute.

So, this woman, whose never been married in real life by the way, says she truly loves her Second Life husband and hopes to meet him some day soon. He says he loves her too and has a better marriage in Second Life with her than he actually has in real life. I was shocked and I was pissed. A psychologist was asked what she thought about the whole set-up and whether she thought the guy was cheating and she said yes and this was a very dangerous thing that could lead to a lot of drama and broken hearts. You think!

When the report wrapped up, I lay in bed thinking to myself, "Is this what this world is coming to? A man can be so desperate to have a chick on the side that he'll marry a cartoon looking bitch over the internet?!!" Of course, there were many more thoughts running through my mind and when I got ready to write this post, I searched and searched to find the video from that CBS report, when I ran across an article that read, Infamous SL Gangster Weds in Lavish Wedding. Then, when I clicked on the link and saw this picture, I thought to myself, "Even in the virtual world some black men are still going to seek out a white woman." Damn. --SUGAR

The Importance of Wearing a Fragrance

Let me start this by saying, there is a fine line between smelling like the Queen of Sheba and smelling like the Whore of Babylon... Which side do you think you're on? As I smoothed on some Victoria's Secret whipped body butter this morning, it hit me as to just how much wearing some type of fragrance means to me. From choosing just the right scent for deodorant to lotions and creams and of course, perfumes. As I travel in different circles, attend various events and such, I've noticed that not all women care so much and for the life of me, I don't understand why. If there's an allergy or something of that nature, sure I get that. But, if there isn't, why would any woman want to walk around smelling like...well, nothing?

I think that a woman's scent is one of the most important aspects of her makeup, outside of her actual physical appearance. I've had random people stop me dead in my tracks when I'm out somewhere to ask me what fragrance I'm wearing and I kindly reply and hope that maybe they too will be able to experience the joy the fragrance in question brings to me. However, what most people don't consider is that every fragrance smells a little bit differently on every person. There are hints of familiarity, but even the soap or body wash that you've used, mingled with creams and perfumes can completely alter the way the fragrance smells on a person's body.

When I was in the hair salon a couple of weeks ago, I read about a perfume that is $5000 a bottle. It's called "Yu" and my hands started to shake a little because I wanted one so badly! I don't think I'd pay 5 grand for a bottle of perfume, but gosh it must be heavenly. Maybe I'll write Oprah and see if she'll buy one for me...

Powerful women usually wear powerful fragrances. I imagine Anna Wintour has one favorite fragrance that she wears that is her trademark. I'm not at the point of wanting to wear a trademark fragrance because I'm still trying different ones out to see what I like best, or if one sticks out to me as one I'd like to make a trademark.

I like to think that a woman's scent is sort of her way of marking her territory in her man's dwellings and giving him a constant reminder of her allure even when she's not around. Creams and lotions are best for leaving long-lasting impressions, but even a good perfume can leave an aura in the room that he won't soon forget. If you don't ever wear a fragrance, how in the world are you going to make that mark?

Right now, outside of my creams and lotions, I have a bottle of Armand Basi In Red and a throwback that I almost knocked two women over to get, AV by Adrienne Vittadini. They are both two completely different fragrances and I wear each one according to my mood. I usually wear the Basi when I'm feeling exceptionally pretty and classy and the AV when I'm feeling like, [from Prince's song] "You sexy motherfukcer!" The Basi is probably best for the summer anyway, but I'm almost done with it so I'm super excited to see which fragrance journey I embark upon next. Be sure you do the same. --SUGAR