There is something incredibly wrong with me for this statement, but what is it about Rick Ross that is so damn sexy? He's like 4 zillion pounds, not even remotely cute, and wears an enormous blinged out chain with his own face on it, and yet I see him and I'm like, hmmm. Yes, yes, I would. I asked my best guy friend about this. Did he know other girls that liked Rick Ross or was I the only one doing my best impersonation of Stevie Wonder (blind, hello)? He said he'd heard it before, chalked it up to the swag, which is a word I cannot stand. But it must be. It has to be. That's the only thing that can describe it. It's like Biggie. That man, no matter how talented, was the most horrid looking dude ever, and yet because of the money, attitude, power and swag, collectively, girls pawed him like they were in a production of Cats.
It goes outside the realm of fat, unattractive rappers. I dated a guy recently who I don't think anyone would confuse as gorgeous. He was okay, but his personality, his "swag" helped him a great deal. I even noticed other girls seemed attracted to him, which I understood, but also never really got. Funny. I guess it's the same as when you meet someone who's really pretty, but because they're a mean bitch, they suddenly turn ugly right before your eyes.
But all that aside, RICK ROSS?! Come on, B! Sigh...I still stand by my position: under him, hopefully. Well actually, that might be a strictly top situation..
That bitch stole my line,
xoxo
Blackie Collins
I came across this little tidbit and in a way, I have no idea what to make of it and yet I understand it completely...So here's a little something to make you go hmmm. Wherever you are in life, I'm sure you can find meaning in it. Enjoy today and every day...
"There are no shortcuts in life or love. This pain must be felt, the alternative is much worse. It's what makes us special, beautiful, makes us worthy. The pain of how we love. But that pain is accompanied by something else: hope. With your pain there is hope. That is where you are. Somewhere between agony, optimism, and prayer. So, you're human, you're alive, and that's what we have. And we come back again tomorrow to do it all again."
That bitch stole my line,
xoxo
Blackie Collins
I started talking about Blackberry Messenger (BBM) in my last post and it got me thinking about that little application that keeps most BB users from jumping ship to iPhone land. I wasn't think about how BBM sucks you in and devours hours of your day nor was I thinking about the full on conversations I have on it instead of just picking up the phone and calling the person. Nope, I was thinking about how BBM has caught more people cheating, lying, and all around doing wrongery since it's inception into mobile phone history. See, the geniuses at Blackberry thought it'd be great if you could send a message to people, but not just any people, only elite Blackberry users. You could exchange pins, later to be replaced with a trusty barcode to scan, and voila! Instant messaging at your fingertips...or thumbs if we're to be technical. Then someone in the Blackberry Messenger boardroom said, "Well, Johnny, this isn't good enough! You can instant message anywhere! How will Blackberry's be different? How can we be innovative and separate ourselves from the IM pack?" I suppose he was maybe hyperventilating when he said this too. Johnny probably responded by saying, "I'm not sure, boss, but I'll solve this problem if it's the last thing I do!" His boss agreed as he'd probably fire Johnny if he didn't figure it all out. (It was all very dramatic, can't you tell?) That night Johnny did just that. He came into the boardroom the next day and said, "I know how we'll be different. We'll make it so that you can see when your message has been delivered, but even better, you can see when it's been received!" See, when a message is sent on BBM, there's a littler check mark with a teeny tiny "D" next to it, which means your message has been delivered. If someone's phone is off or they're actually on the line, it just has a check until it can be delivered. Once that person has clicked on the message, not responded, just LOOKED at it, the little "D" turns to a little "R," which means received. It also means you're f*cked if you don't answer in time because the sender can basically see that you're ignoring them.
A few weeks ago, my friend caught her boyfriend in a BBM trap. He was MIA, nowhere to be found and they were supposed to be going to the movies. It was around six or seven in the evening. By nine, she was not worried but pissed. See, she'd sent about three thousand BBM's to her boyfriend and for quite some time they all had little "D's" next to the check mark, but then a few hours after, they all turned to "R's." Only problem? He didn't respond. For another forty five minutes. Then he responded, saying he was stuck in a meeting and had left his phone back in the office. He had just retrieved the phone from his desk. Her boyfriend works in advertising and was apparently the gopher given the task of wooing some out of town clients over dinner. He told her it was last minute. He'd texted her, didn't she get the message? Conveniently, she had not. Which we all know is because he hadn't sent her one. She told him she saw that he'd received the BBM's, knew he was lying. To that, he tried to lie yet again, stating feebly that he'd never gotten the messages, he swore he left his phone behind. This is when she called me. You can only guess what I told her she should tell him to do with his R's and D's (nuts).
Thanks to Johnny and good ol' Blackberry Messenger, we don't need to snoop anymore, we can just wait until those D's turn to R's and they hang themselves by their own L-I-E-S.
That bitch stole my line,
xoxo
Blackie Collins
Yesterday was Mother's Day and no I'm not about to write a post about mothers on a blog that is so far from moms, it'd be morally gross to include them in any of my stories about dating, relationships or *cringe* sex. I was going through my phone, lord knows what I was specifically looking at as my Blackberry seems to just suck me in to a vast world of nothingness, but somehow I wound up on Blackberry Messenger (BBM). Blackberry Messenger is an interesting little program. The long (and short) of it is that it's an instant messenger for Blackberry users only. You can conference or have individual conversations and you can change your status (updates) to whatever your heart desires...well anything under 50 characters that your heart desires. I was chatting with a friend when I saw the little red icon pop up next to the recent updates. I'm very OCD about my Blackberry. There can be no unchecked icons staring back at me, no voicemail sign, no email, no texts, no blinking red light. It drives me nuts. Shouts, "B!" Anyway, I checked the recent updates and saw that many of my contacts had their usual statuses and the remaining seemed to have ones pertaining to their mothers. Then I saw the one that sent off a red flag.
My ex boyfriend and I are still BBM "friends." I'm not entirely sure as to why. One day I ran into him and saw that he had a Blackberry Touch. This was of note because he'd stuck with the old school Blackberry for years. It was really annoying. He swore by it, said it made him loyal. Whatever. Anyway, I made a joke about the old Blackberry, likened it to the gigantic first cellular phone ever invented. The one that came in a leather case and plugged into your car. I asked if he was finally enjoying the necessities, like BBM. Well that opened that can of worms and we exchanged pins. Every once in a while I get a happy birthday or a how's it going, but we don't really talk on there...or anywhere. My goodness, me and the damn tangents. So anyway, his status update read: Mom said go and get her, but what if she doesn't want to be had. I read it and my stomach sort of lurched. Sort of did that thing it does when you feel like another stress weed just bloomed from the exact spot you just yanked one. I just know it's about me. The last few statuses of his have been code to everyone else but might as well have my name in them as far as I'm concerned. One read something like: Love changes and best friends become strangers. Another read: Missing that which always made me smile. I won't lead you into the Hallmark hall of fame he's working with over there, but you see what I'm up against? Even worse, I had a dream about him the other night. I have no idea what happened in this dream, but I woke up and knew I'd dreamt about him. Now before you get all Sleepless in Seattle on me and insist that I run and meet him at the top of the Empire State Building before I miss my shot at love, know this: it is over. Completely. I've seen him on several occasions since our union of a zillion years ended and I looked at him with a sort of shock. The way you look at someone you've seen for years and are suddenly seeing them for the first time. I can't believe I fooled myself into thinking I could spend my life with him. Well that's not all the way fair. There was a time that I thought he was it, but while I'd love to say there was never ever a shred of doubt hiding somewhere, that'd be a lie and I'm not into lies or exaggerations on my blog...or in life for that matter.
Let me get more to the point here. I'm worried about what's coming. I know him. He's tried to get me back before. He's the kind who would show up at my door step, jump hoops, swallow a sword, anything to get me back. I'm his catch of the day, the love of his life (as he's said so many times) or so he thinks. Honestly, I don't think a day goes by that he doesn't remember the one that got away. But, he's right about one thing, I don't want to be had, not by him anyway. I know what you'll all say. I know the obvious answer: just tell him no and keep it moving. But do you know how hard it is to tell someone no repeatedly? Someone whom you used to put before yourself? Someone you loved? It's crushing. It feels like you're breaking their heart over and over and over again. In a word? It sucks.
Then again, maybe the status isn't about me at all and I'm just an arrogant prick.
That bitch stole my line,
xoxo
Blackie Collins
A while back I wrote a post called Even Halle Has Issues. Apparently, even Halle gets dumped too.
Every woman thinks Halle Berry is gorgeous, and every man is down for her cause. I'd actually stand up and swear no one finds her to be anything but stunning. Sexy as all get out, beautiful, whatever you want to call it. She's a looker. And she's famous. And rich. And single again. Obviously the previously stated traits aren't what sustain a relationship, but I'd assume waking up next to that each morning is probably a good start Monday through Sunday. Anyway, I was procrastinating by trolling the gossip blogs reading up on the split when I came across an article on the Huffington Post. It stated all the known, obvious facts in the split, had comments from a "inside source" and then finished off the article with Halle Berry's relationship history. It sounds standard, all good, but the final paragraph read like this:
"Halle has been married and divorced twice before: to former baseball player David Justice who abused her and Eric Benet who cheated on her."
And now she's been dumped by the hottest Canadian since bacon.
Well, damn.
Could you imagine your relationship history being summed up in one single line and having it read like that? These are the breaks, yes, but someone got dealt a pretty crappy hand when it came to men, although I will say she got a Royal Flush in other areas of life so maybe it's just how it goes? You can't have everything? I don't know. But do you ever just kind of throw in the towel? Do you always hope for The One to come along? I mean, we're all slightly programmed to believe in the back crevices of our hearts that Mr. Right is out there waiting for us, walking around, completely searching for his one true love, which is, of course, you. Even when we have these horrible relationships, think we'll never find love again, we still have this lowly lit flame burning, this hope. I wonder if it hit Halle when she read that. Like, Damn, that's my love life in twenty five words or less. Forty-three years and this is it. Eff it, I give up. Do we ever give up? Do we ever say forget it? I'm sure some do...and I bet they meet The One right after. Keep hope alive, I guess.
That bitch stole my line,
xoxo
Blackie Collins
