Hm...I don't even know where to begin with this one, but here goes. My uncle died of cancer Monday. I'm sad, don't get me wrong. Uncle B. was a sweet funny guy. He was also a former employee of the Retail Crapper, so when I used to work there and he'd come in shopping and see me working with my mouth twisted, he already knew. He was my daddy's brother-in-law, and since I didn't have any real contact with that side of the family until like 2000, I didn't really get to know him as well as I know my mom's brother and brothers-in-law. Anyways, the funeral is Friday. I'm worried about my Auntie and cousin. They seem to be "holding up" pretty good, but I know it will be rough. Oh, and if the Retailtopia has any designs on putting me back on the schedule, say....FRIDAY, Shellybird will be unavailable. (Yeah, I'm still pissed. Here's my rant if you missed that post.)
I had trouble with a starting point for this post because it was inspired by a brief moment of eye contact with that hot manager that I had to leave behind at the Crapper when I got fired. I needed to give backstory on why I was up in there in the first place. I am fixing some food to take to my auntie's house and I stopped by the Crapper to buy ingredients, so there's that. I'm much more comfortable with going in there now. That's no longer an issue, as long as folks don't come at me with, "Do you miss us?!" or "You know you want to come back." I need not hear any of that, seriously.
There really isn't even that much to tell. I was in the housewares department looking for some of those aluminium pans to fix baked angel hair pasta in. One of my ex-coworkers was working in that area and we chatted for a bit. While I was talking to her, the Latino Adonis--how I like to think of this manager--walked by. Extended eye contact was what transpired. If I must say so myself, my dark purple lipstick was poppin', and my hair was cute, as was my outfit: Denim carpi's that accentuated my curves and a black ballet inspired top, no bra. I went "waist up commando" because that shirt is really too small and my padded bras make it even tighter. Oh, and I'm not getting rid of that shirt because I love it. It makes me feel like Coco from "Fame". BOTH Cocos, doggone it.
He is so hot...and so married. I'm not one of "those chicks". Married men are like damaged goods to me, even if they are hot as fire. When I was young and naive, I did date a few guys who were legally separated, but I wouldn't even do that again. Separated is still married, people. Don't get it twisted. But LORDTTTTTT, if I was one of "those chicks," or better yet, if he was single, he could GET IT, GET IT, GET IT, GET IT, GET IT, GET ALL OF IT!!!!!! Then again, if he was single, I probably wouldn't stand a chance with him because he would have carte blanche with all da womenz. I think he cuts his eye at me (and probably a lot of other chicks) because we're women hecan't isn't supposed to have. All that looking is probably just to mentally store up some fap--or perhaps sex-with-wifey-when-he's-really-not-in-the-mood--fodder for later. Whatever the case may be, we just exchanged a look that was probably of more significance to me than it will ever be to him, and now I'm home alone, fixing baked angel hair pasta.
It's an interesting--and suck ass--thing, being single at my age. I mean, I don't have a real grasp on why I am, and I wish I weren't. I'm picky, yes, but there is nothing wrong with having standards. That said, y'all can have all these multiple babies/multiple mamas, weed smoking (still illegal in my state), can't stay out of jail bums walking around here because I don't want one of those. I must sound like I think I'm the isht. Not true. It's taken me the better part of my 40+ years to love and appreciate ME, and there's no turning back. I don't see Tyra Banks staring back at me when I look in the mirror, I think I look pretty decent. My body is at it's best, aesthetically. Granted I do have cellulite, but since I put on weight, I also have curves that I never had before. I'm no longer a stick figure, yay. Shellybird after a shower is farcical and kind of sad. I look at my naked body in the mirror and KNOW that I could reallyplease blow the mind of the right man, and yet I'm alone. I really don't know what else to say. I had some eye contact with a cute guy and wanted to share it, and I did, all in the same post about my deceased uncle. I am going directly to hell.
I had trouble with a starting point for this post because it was inspired by a brief moment of eye contact with that hot manager that I had to leave behind at the Crapper when I got fired. I needed to give backstory on why I was up in there in the first place. I am fixing some food to take to my auntie's house and I stopped by the Crapper to buy ingredients, so there's that. I'm much more comfortable with going in there now. That's no longer an issue, as long as folks don't come at me with, "Do you miss us?!" or "You know you want to come back." I need not hear any of that, seriously.
There really isn't even that much to tell. I was in the housewares department looking for some of those aluminium pans to fix baked angel hair pasta in. One of my ex-coworkers was working in that area and we chatted for a bit. While I was talking to her, the Latino Adonis--how I like to think of this manager--walked by. Extended eye contact was what transpired. If I must say so myself, my dark purple lipstick was poppin', and my hair was cute, as was my outfit: Denim carpi's that accentuated my curves and a black ballet inspired top, no bra. I went "waist up commando" because that shirt is really too small and my padded bras make it even tighter. Oh, and I'm not getting rid of that shirt because I love it. It makes me feel like Coco from "Fame". BOTH Cocos, doggone it.
He is so hot...and so married. I'm not one of "those chicks". Married men are like damaged goods to me, even if they are hot as fire. When I was young and naive, I did date a few guys who were legally separated, but I wouldn't even do that again. Separated is still married, people. Don't get it twisted. But LORDTTTTTT, if I was one of "those chicks," or better yet, if he was single, he could GET IT, GET IT, GET IT, GET IT, GET IT, GET ALL OF IT!!!!!! Then again, if he was single, I probably wouldn't stand a chance with him because he would have carte blanche with all da womenz. I think he cuts his eye at me (and probably a lot of other chicks) because we're women he
It's an interesting--and suck ass--thing, being single at my age. I mean, I don't have a real grasp on why I am, and I wish I weren't. I'm picky, yes, but there is nothing wrong with having standards. That said, y'all can have all these multiple babies/multiple mamas, weed smoking (still illegal in my state), can't stay out of jail bums walking around here because I don't want one of those. I must sound like I think I'm the isht. Not true. It's taken me the better part of my 40+ years to love and appreciate ME, and there's no turning back. I don't see Tyra Banks staring back at me when I look in the mirror, I think I look pretty decent. My body is at it's best, aesthetically. Granted I do have cellulite, but since I put on weight, I also have curves that I never had before. I'm no longer a stick figure, yay. Shellybird after a shower is farcical and kind of sad. I look at my naked body in the mirror and KNOW that I could really
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