Juicy Gossip Porterhouse Steak

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I feel you Fry, until I was trusted with a secret that was too juicy not to share with my best friend and too bad not to share with the person that needed to know it… boy did that get me in trouble.


For various reasons it drains my energy when I hang out with people. That’s not a good or bad thing, it’s just the way I am. Lately, I’m not even seeing the benefits of being social anymore. If I’m hanging out with new people, I can’t comfortably be myself because I have some real awkward tendencies. And last night, my inability to hold a juicy secret just between my boyfriend and I consequently blew up into an altercation with him and a friend. I don’t like ruining friendships. (Actually, I think the friendship is just fine.. men are really simple.) I don’t like having my boyfriend be mad at me either. Especially, because I disclosed the juicy porterhouse steak of gossip to two friends in confidence, feeling comfortable that it wouldn’t get back to bite me in the ass. That steak morphed into an angry, glaring 6 foot 3 black guy with a bruised hand and a death stare that awakened me from my beauty sleep.

I survived though, a few I’m sorrys and some kisses did the trick but I’m mad at myself…

I know people can’t be trusted. Especially, those people who have to convince you that they won’t say anything. I know this already… adulthood still has the stench of high school in it.

Who do you tell your juicy gossip to? How do you know you can really trust that person?


Yeaaah… Riiiiight… LoL.

Your friend,



My Dear Evie | Weekly Writing Challenge

My Dear Watson,

Life just isn’t the same without your trusty sidekick. For this week’s writing challenge, tell us about your partner in crime.

I don’t call any of my friends sidekicks or my partners in crime… but if I have to discuss a crime recently committed and the other half of the duo during this crime, it would be my best friend Evie. She’s more like my sister because I think if she wasn’t, I would’ve have left her during this crime to fend for herself.

What was the crime?

We murdered our dignity in a wine bar. Actually, my dignity is already dead, so I kind of just sat there gulping down the evidence in hopes that the evil wine devil that was trying to murder my dear friend’s dignity would try to murder mine again instead. Double Jeopardy. It didn’t work.

Evie is the most beautiful, intelligent, passionate person I know… besides myself. Just kidding. I’m not trying to say my Watson is better than your Watson but that’s exactly what you should get from this. She’s actually Watson and Sherlock Holmes in one sexy, little body. I’m actually just Watson’s monocle because my observation skills are rather sharp. I notice everyone and everything.

Evie is the only person I like right now… and also my boyfriend, he’s not doing too bad, he got me spicy chicken nuggets today. We have our old lady tendencies but still like to go out and have a good time, but not out for ratchet good times. Classy good times. We just have to learn how to control ourselves when there are numerous shelves in the room filled with wine, specifically wine bars.

My life would be rather dull without my Evie… you would probably find me dead on my couch while Netflix is asking me if I’m still watching.

Thorn Removed: A Journal Entry

“They mess you up, your Mom and Dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had. And add some extra, just for you.” Philip Larkin


Since I’ve started blogging regularly for the last month or so, I’ve been wanting to write about my mother, I’ve written about other lost relationships and it’s been very therapeutic. I didn’t want to force myself to write about her because I knew it would come at some point and it has. I was watching Criminal Minds and this above quote was at the end of one of the episodes in Season 9. What an amazing and honest quote… maybe Philip Larkin was hurt too.

I’ve been hurt since the day I was born in various ways. I know this because of the stories my mother has told me of the abuse I experienced at just a few days old, I don’t think they knew much about postpartum depression then. From the stories, she’s had it with every child. I’ve always understood that my mom hurt us (my brothers and myself) our whole lives because she didn’t know any other way and maybe didn’t have the courage to accept that she was doing things wrong and could sincerely change. Some people just aren’t capable and I truly believe that some women are not meant to be mothers.

I don’t think it takes corporal punishment and degradation to build character or to make a “productive member of society”, I think it strips the soul of the child and I am an example of it leaving a lifetime of scars. My mother was always a source of fear when I was younger and when I became older, she couldn’t beat me anymore, she then became my main source of negativity. It’s haunting.

It’s sad that the woman who gave birth to me is also the only person in the world whom I never want to see again. The day she told me, “Your season in my life is over,” I released myself from every bind I had to her. I no longer think about what would make her proud of me, I choose to make myself proud. I don’t wish any bad and I don’t wish to show any of the many pieces of dirty laundry I have… honestly even she would tell you about how much she beat her children. She has no problem with tearing anyone down and delightfully declares victory over anyone she can make feel small. I was and am tired of being a victim to that. I don’t want people like that in my life… even if that person gave life to me. 

This is not to place blame on her for how I’ve ended up because honestly I think I turned out okay… but what I do understand now as a grown woman is that my childhood and my parents and all of those experiences and interactions have helped shape the person I am. I imagine my mother wanted me to be a doctor with a lawyer husband, two homes and three cars, a hell raising Baptist who vacations every year, with long straight hair and a body sculpted by a trainer, who gets awards for being black and successful. I imagine who I really am irritates her and all of her beatings and ridicule didn’t do what she thought it would. I am me, beautifully me, in spite of every lashing of the belt, every harsh word, every day she spent punishing me for nothing and every night I spent alone and ignored.


Therapy session over.

I think this post fits today’s daily prompt:

Pains and Gains

Do you agree with Jane Fonda’s favorite exercise motto, “no pain, no gain?” Is it impossible to attain greatness without considerable hardship?