How Much Wood Would A Woodchuck Chuck?

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Lessons of Summer 2012:

1. Old loves/lusts come out of the dyam woodwork. Where did you come from all of a sudden? Seriously!
2. Like my red Olympic mittens, men vanish when I need them in the Fall/Winter and somehow reappear in the warm months when I’m OVER it/them.
3. When I’m enjoying my warm weather months with a potential, the oldies smell my happiness and do everything in the power to ATTACK it.

One, none or all of these instances may be something you’ve experienced in the past or are currently going through. It’s a cray phenomenon I’d like to leave up to Bill Nye to figure out and then break it down in a way only a four year old could understand. Why is the flow of NEW men so inconsistent? Is it strictly a matter of”Spring Fever?” Does something open their eyes and hearts to the attractivity of me once the temperature gets into the double digits? Is there a seasonal reminder that goes off in their heads where they feel obligated to disturb my sanity?!?!?!?  ’Cuz my libeeds (aka libido) is outta all control 365 days a year and I can’t be the only one who thinks it’s DAMN rude to be thought of only when it’s convenient for them…can I? *single blink*

If you’re anything like me, you have learned the hard way that the only way to survive the summer is to shut down the woodchucks trying to chomp on your limber lumber. Beggars cannot be choosers, but I’m past the point of begging and you are too (trust me!) We’re all good enough and smart enough to know when someone is trying to make us their backburner booty call.  So join me in telling them all to galang.

All of the men…GALANG!!!

Have You Ever Been Low?

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Yesterday was one of those days I woke up and everyone and their mother upset me. Nothing happened to me! No one said anything to offend me. My family is safe and sound. I’m happily hunting for my employment bliss. All my bills are paid for. I have the ultimate VIP cable package.  Two packs of bacon, untouched, in the freezer. LIFE IS F*CKIN’ AMAZING!  So why?!?!?!?!!!!

I have no idea. But I took a break from the interwebs to just sit back, reflect and pound back some bacon.

Already feeling better.

Follow me on Twitter, PLEASEANDTHANKS (@Bettykiss)

Say It Ain’t So

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I have been GLUED to the Olympics since they began and I’m debating whether I should do a “Boys of the Olympics Whom I Crush On” series because let’s be serious, there is epic swoonworthiness happening at the 2012 Summer Games. One of these boys, is the caramel-skinned gymnastic beautifulness from Great Britain, Louis Smith.

I felt he was robbed of the gold medal on the pommel horse – his routine was flawless. FLAWLESS, I scream!  The judges, however, did not agree with my armchair scoring. So THIS is my acknowledgement of the man who made Kate Middleton watch his finals through her fingers…because his shine is too bright.

BAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!

Louis Smith, Gymnast (Great Britain)

Louis Smith…thank you.

UPDATE:

Kate Middleton watching Louis Smith (Pommel Horse Finals)

FINALLY, It’s Happened To Me

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IT IS HAPPENING TOMORROW!

Friends, it has been a LOOOOOOOOOOOONG time coming, but I will be seeing the Childish Gambino himself (a.k.a. Donald Glover) tomorrow, Tuesday, July 31st, at Echo Beach. While my campaign to meet him flopped, I did have a great back and forth with Donald’s rep. Unfortunately, I will not meet him tomorrow but the fact I was able to get through to anyone in his “camp” is a great achievement in my Single Blink books.

Ludwig Göransson and Donald Glover (Childish Gambino)

I’ve been going easy on the posts the last few weeks but get ready for me to setback to the goods this week: SEX! BOYS! BAMPSIES! BOYS! FAILURES! DATES! BOYS! *single blink*

Follow me on the Twitter: @Bettykiss

The Block Is Hot

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COCKBLOCK – noun and verb: a person who interferes with or hinders a pickup artist’s game, whether accidentally or on purpose. A cockblock can be a friend of the woman, a friend of the pickup artist, or a complete stranger.

Guys, I’ve somehow developed the ability to cockblock myself and it’s becoming a problem. A big one.

Follow me on Twitter: @Bettykiss

Cover Girl

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Time for an online profile change….for the better.  I need to go back to taking my own profile a little more seriously. Yes…I will still get ridiculous messages, but the more ridiculous my profile is the least likely I am to get ANYTHING remotely close to normal.

I’ve enlisted the help of a very special photographer in my life (Sylvia Pereira) to take some new photos of me for my website: Bettykiss Style Inc. But I think I may steal 4 or 5 decent shots that were not used and post them on my profile. There is nothing like using pictures that no longer look like the current you. I know I get cheesed OFF when I’m chatting to someone who says,”But just so you know, that was years ago.” Then post one from this year, Trick Daddy!  Or they say, “I don’t have facial hair anymore.”  Then shave and snap away, playa!  I have to practice what I preach so I’m hiding my online profiles until I have updated photos to bring all the boys to the yard.

So ladies and gentlemen – when I have my photo selections, I will give you a sneak peek of the new and improved profile. WHO KNOWS…maybe someone unexpected will rear his super-fly head… *single blink*  Maybe.

My body is READY for its close-up.

A Little Less Conversation

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Me: I wish there were lofts like this available in Toronto.

Dad: It’s beautiful – this is what lofts should look like. I can see this as a two-storey, open concept. Beautiful.

Me: Yeah… I know I won’t be able nor will want to maintain a yard, my next place needs to be a two-storey, two bedroom condo. I already see it in my brain.

Dad looks at me, puts his arm around me and says : ”As your dad, I hope that when the time comes you won’t have to maintain it by yourself. My hope is that one of these guys will see a good thing right in front of them.“

*single blink* 

Then I immediately:

Men of the world, hear me now – don’t just do it for me, do it for our potential yard!

Only The Lonely

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The WORST thing a gal can do when she’s feeling lonely is Sherlock Holmes her way through Facebook or alternatively, her li’l black book. Speaking as your friend, your amazingly close friend who knows all, do not ever contact someone from your past who you stopped talking to for very specific and honest reasons (You. Hate. Them.) because you feel like you need a little attention from the opposite sex.  Yes, they provided that for you. Yes, you know they will chomp at the bit to throw all their affections your way again. BUT IT’S A TRAP.

Ladies, why do we do this? I’m the first to admit I’m guilty of the “Ego-Stroke Reach Out Text.” I am guiltier than Oprah’s black hand caught in the cookie jar back in 1988. *single blink* I’ve felt the need for a little attention when I haven’t made eye contact with the opposite sex in weeks. Any psychic within close proximity would say, “The libido is strong in this one” and point her gnarled finger directly at the center of my chest (where my black heart lives). BUT………..it’s not worth it, friends. It is not worth it.

The second you open those floodgates you will wish for all the sandbags from the Sahara to dry up your tears because you will regret everything.

Um………..BRB.

Preventative measures for my own good.

DAMMIT!

follow me on Twitter: @bettykiss 

On A Steel Horse I Ride

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AN ODE TO THE MAN OF JUNE (it’s really bad)

Jon Bon Jovi

J is for your juxtaposed look
O is for your original hooks
N is for your never-ending story

B is for your blaze of glory
O is for your onstage presence
N is for never taking guitar lessons

J is for Jimmy Page – who’s not in your band
O is for the ostrich skin that makes most of your pants
V is for the voice God gave you to sing
I is for “I love you” and all the joy you bring

Rise Up, Rise Up

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So here’s basically how it played out:

A group of us (men and women) were saying goodnight to an acquaintance. I was the first out of the door. When I turned back to see if anyone was following me so I could hold the door, my eyes locked in like a tractor beam on the acquaintance’s southern hemisphere. Why, you ask? *single blink* Because Dude had a boner the size of Nantucket!

Farewells are obviously an aphrodisiac to him. What random thing gives you an unscheduled boner?