So before there was LMFAO, there was one performer whose music videos always cracked me up--Ludacris. There aren't many who don't know who you're quoting when you tell a bitch to get out da way or want to know someone's fantasy. Being as such, it was perfectly natural for me to pick Ludacris - Get Back for my signature performance at a karaoke party almost a year ago. Thus far, it has yet to be forgotten by the friends in attendance. (Possibly because I knew where to reinsert all of the edited words from the karaoke version of the song.)

I'm sure everyone who either listens to the radio or goes out more than once a year has heard 'Wobble Baby' by V.I.C. Quite frankly, I try to wobble in my car when it comes on. When it's on in the club, this is the song that it absolutely does not matter how badly my feet hurt--I'm up and wobblin' on em. (Which is actually rather convenient since by that point I'm probably also drunk as well.)




I hope all of you have had wobbled as much this weekend as I have! And stay tuned for updates on the opening weekend of the LA RenFest! That's right. I'm going to LARF. (haha @ LARF)

That's right. I went to a strip club, and to be honest, I can actually see the appeal. I'm sorry, ladies. If you're wondering why your man wants to slip his singles in a stripper's g-string instead of buying you new shoes, you might want to actually check out a strip club. The bar has been raised, and even I realize I've got to pull out some of my old tricks to keep him paying attention.

For the longest time I heard some myth that most strippers were unattractive. I'm not sure if that rumor was started by men wanting to sooth their angry girlfriends or by women hoping to staunch the sting. Dude, strippers are hot. And, pssst, they're naked.

They also have insane tricks. Seriously.

I hate to say it, but stripping is probably the second oldest profession. (Prostitution being the first.) What keeps it alive? What keeps guys going back for 'something they can see at home?'

It's simple. It's the fantasy. (And the dead eyes. Hawt!)

Women regularly underestimate the power of their own bodies to hold a man's attention. Quite frankly, most women are attractive. There isn't some elite few who have attractive features. We all have something we can work, and the sooner we recognize it, the sooner we learn how to flaunt it at home, the sooner you can stop wondering what he's seeing there that he isn't seeing from you.

Men are very visually motivated, and women know how to be aesthetically captivating. Use it or lose it I say, which is precisely why I'll be signing up for a pole dancing class with my next pay check!

Hell yes, I like Beck. The 8-bit remix takes Ghettochip Malfunction to a whole new level (especially since the music video features the discontinued Sony QRio Robot. The only thing cooler than a dancing baby is a dancing robot.




Seriously, couldn't you just watch that over and over? If you didn't say hell yes, you need to watch the video one more time.

Then neither are you.

Ugh, men. It never fails that they think it is a great idea to text me past midnight. Unless I've been out tearing up the happening towns of Hammond or Ponchatoula, I'm probably not awake. As a matter of fact, I probably have to wake up ridiculously early to go to work. I do also have this thing called a kid. He doesn't like to let me sleep in either. I know! So exciting.

Either way, I like my sleep--a lot. I hate when I've been deprived of my sleep by no choice of my own. I've been disturbed from my sleep post-midnight for the past few weekends by random douche bags. I even had one call me and leave a voice mail at 8 am. What a winner. I'm calling that one back. Especially after he sent me the picture text of a yard with chickens shortly after. Yard eggs = love?

At the very least, I could laugh it all off as misguided attempts to win me over. I have to admit I'm slightly flattered and not entirely mad, just irritated by my lack of sleep. This past Friday, however, not only made me mad, but left me just insulted enough that I feel a gauntlet has been thrown.

Yes, that's you DBMurph! (I hope you like your new nickname. I think it's kind of catchy, and it's how your number is now saved in my phone.) Our dear friend, DB, after pulling the typical disappearing act of any young boy caught stealing milk off the farm, decided he'd text me at 3 am one fine Saturday morning. Why? Because he really thought after treating me like a cow patty, I'd be so lacking in self respect that I'd let him back on the farm to get some milk.

And here's the funny part: Up until that moment, I still actually liked the douche bag for some ungodly reason. A genuine apology with no expectations, and I would have completely forgiven him. Fuck all if I know why, but I still like my sleep better. I liked him so much, that even after how he treated me, I showed him unprecedented respect and deleted his number, his Facebook, and his IM from my contact lists and just let that chicken fly the coop. I didn't text him at 3 am asking him why. I didn't send him a million e-mails asking him why. I was a big girl, big girls know people are shit. I hate people.

But, DB couldn't show me the same respect. I'm guessing he either didn't notice we were no longer FB friends or didn't take that as a BIG hint that texting me drunk was probably a bad idea. Especially when he was drunk and hoping we might rekindle some milking. And ya know, when I called him on that tidbit he pulled the same vanishing act again rather than just facing up.

Now, I'm insulted. Completely and totally insulted that he really thought he could still get a booty call out of me. (Dude, your dick ain't made of gold, nor are you black or Italian.) So, tonight he got a page out of the age-old crazy book I've experienced time and time again. Granted, it is a Saturday night, so he was probably awake and drunk again anyway, but that's okay. He was so kind as to make sure his number was back in my phone. Which means we can try again another day! This is going to be more fun that late night bouts of Angry Birds!!!

So, DB, I hope you like creepers, gay men, and redneck bull dykes. I just got a new number in the 504.

That's me, Destroyer of Cheese Sticks, Warrior of Woodchuck. I've recently taken to having a basket of cheese sticks and a bottle of my favorite beverage at a local eatery/bar while reading a book. Yes, that's what single, nerdy girls do that have no job and no male prospects. We eat alone, drink alone, read a book alone.

And, honestly, that's fine. I've put myself out there over and over again for jobs and lovers without much luck. It seems I'm over qualified for most jobs and under qualified for most guys. My writing experience and ability is far too extensive to be a receptionist at a realtor's office or an account manager for a pedo-tracking system. My looks, though above average, don't mirror Angelina Jolie or Megan Fox so I can't compensate for my lack of stellar employment or bastard child. Oh yeah, or the fact I'm a total snark-a-holic.

With let down after let down, continuous disappointments, and a total lack of lover-rific sex, you'd think I'd be wallowing in despair. Nah.

I've still got great legs and plenty of old-ass creepers checking me out when I walk through town, so I guess I'm doing just fine. Not to mention I still have two less than stellar dating profiles in the hopes of snaring some poor bastard who can't tell just how amazingly hot I really am from my pictures. Or that I'm a lot nicer in person than in text.

I can't help it. I'm super mean on the internet. It's so easy and I'm so good with words. It's hard not to be insulting at times. It's hard not to make fun of people. It's what I'm good at for chrissake. Respect that shit. Fo'real.

So, for now I'm going to enjoy reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being and a great cabernet, and you can send some hot men my way. I'll play nice, I promise.

So, with the fun-filled, busy summer I've been having and look to be continuing to have... Sunday is just not a good day for the review. I'm typically trying to recover and prepare for the upcoming week on Sunday. Essentially... I'm just too lazy to post. Yet, I want to give you something. So, I came up with The Cabbage Sing-Along. Each Sunday I will present you with the lyrics of a popular (or possibly not so popular) song and my personal interpretation.

Hopefully you will find it as amusing as I do! Now, tonight I bring you "Whatever You Like" courtesy of T.I.

Hey Jill

You know the old suga daddy
They be tripin when they tell they girls
I said you could have whatever you like (you like)
I said you could have whatever you like (you like)
Yeah

So, sometimes I instigate things. I get bored. So sue me. I needed some more fun dating anecdotes for tonight's post. I really get tired of the idiots this region has to offer as dating material, so it never hurts to burn one for the sake of a pretty fire.

For a small bit of background, I gave dating someone close to my own age a chance. It was boring. End of story. I dumped him with no hard feelings on either side (none on his only because he was emotionally shallow). I gave another idiot a chance in exchange... That story for another post.

Not too long after, I went through and cleared my Facebook of all the OkCupid potentials that had failed. There were a lot... End of story part deux.

The story resumes when the friend of the very same ex determines to add me back to Facebook after realizing I had deleted him. Um, dur. I can't control my curiosity though. Goddamn my feline attributes!

Next thing I know, I get random Facebook IMs at odd hours requesting random hook-ups. At this point I've already added back the ex as well simply because I love to meddle sometimes. I knew between the both of them one of them would set me off and I'd get the opportunity to say the following things:

1. You were a bad lay. The worst I ever had. You make the weirdest expressions I've ever seen when you're having sex and it's really distracting.
2. Flat bill hats are retarded. You're white, btw.
3. You have the emotional depth of a kiddie pool, complete with the piss water.
4. My kid absolutely could not stand you--especially when you stuck around all day on my couch after I politely hinted several times you should go. Social IQ = 67
5. I couldn't stand you either. See number 2 & 3 especially. I was already handling the problem with number 1 with my ex.

I'm sure all of this you've heard before and will probably hear again.

So, it felt really good to just tear someone a new one. I've been needing some adventure and it unfortunately came at the cost of someone who deserved it. Oh well. Only one casualty tonight.

When zombies attack, we're all gonna have to be straight thuggin and that means never saying sorry. It doesn't matter if it's your mother or your lover that's turned, you've got to pop them square between the eyes. No excuses, play like a champion.

This could also be your excuse to off someone you dislike without legal or moral repercussions. They were bit! They can't be allowed to live or they'll come back as the brain-hungry undead.

More to come on straight thuggin in the zombie apocalypse, but for now I must prepare for RepoMen.