Fame!

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STORYTIME TUESDAY

“FAME: AS TOLD IN A SERIES OF BLANCHE DEVEREAUX GIFS”

On most Saturday nights, I turn to myself in the mirror and say:

But one Saturday out of every month, I get dolled up to work the door at an LGBT-friendly dance party because:

JJs.* While these men don’t want me, they make me feel like a queen. It does wonders for my self-esteem! So this past weekend I worked, danced and posed for some photos before I high-tailed it to the Bovine Sex Club.  My favourite band was playing a 2AM show and I didn’t want to miss it. I was in my fur, a purple titmiddles™-exposing dress and my new hair. I was feeling good, I was feeling right and tight.

I arrived at the bar just before the band took the stage, so I shimmied my way through the crowd when I found myself chest-to-titmiddles™ with a strapping man. Neither of us could move any further, so he took a step back and said, “After you.” I almost heard a “m’lady” but it was all in my head. I flashed my smile, thanked him and swooned on by. Please understand this scenario with the same man happened thrice more that night. THRICE!

I do, Dorothy. I do.

I figured this was my night. This was a sign. I’m going to make my move. I mean, it’s been so long since I’ve had a real-life encounter with a beautiful man. A beautiful man with manners and style. A beautiful man with manners, style and a chest that would not quit!!!

The band finished their set and I scoured the scene for Chester McMannerson (that’s just the name we’ll go with) when a mohawked man approached me. I didn’t even notice him as I sipped my cider until he backed up and asked: “Do you ever have a hard time hiding when you’re famous?”

Well, he got my attention because what the hell did he just ask me? So I say, “Excuse me?” He repeated himself: “Do you ever have a hard time hiding when you’re famous?” I chuckled, took a more calculated sip of my drink and shook my head. So he continued because my body language was obviously telling him to. *single blink* 

Mohawk: “Everyone is recognizing me and I just want to have a good time.”

Me: “At least people know who you are? But I’m not one of them.” *cider sip, look away*

Mohawk: “I’m the bassist in <insert Canadian band name here>. Can you help me hide?”

Me: “Computer says no.”

Mohawk: “Huh?”

Me:

Somehow I escaped to an unoccupied wall near the back and saw Chester behind the bar. He totally worked there!!! Alright, this was perfect. I would chug the rest of my drink and order another and be charmingly cute and everything would come up Milhouse. I wouldn’t be like a million other girls in this bar who probably hit on him all the time. I’d be different and he’d see that. And…and…where’d he go?!  Sigh.

I didn’t realize I was standing directly across from the washrooms, the male traffic was out of hand and I felt right at home. Again, someone I didn’t notice the first time passed me by, backed up and began a conversation. The difference was this dude was super cute and didn’t give me a creepy vibe at all. So…why not, right? I gave him my patented smile and engaged him in conversation. My body said: “I’m interested in what you’re saying” but my eyes said:

“I will lick you up and to completion!”

Oh HELLS naw!!! Mohawk was back? For reals? The new boy gave me a look like “who is that?” I leaned in and told him that he played in <insert band name here> and he was so very tired of people recognizing him when he just wanted to remain incognito. I ended this statement with the hardest eye roll I’ve ever done (I still haven’t found my contact lens). I felt a tap on my shoulder:

New boy dove in to save the day and told Mohawk it was cool he played in a band and liked some of his songs. Mohawk responded with: “Do you like the song “F*ck Right Off?”  New boy was not impressed, words were exchanged and new boy wished me luck AND WALKED AWAY. I took off for new boy when Mohawk grabbed my arm and asked if that was my man. I shook his hand off and read him the riot act. He responded: “So…you don’t have a man? That’s a shame – you’re black and beautiful.”

The rest of the night does not make a difference because Chester never showed his face again and new boy never resurfaced. What I can tell you is this comedy of errors will result in a very definite future for yours truly:

*JJs = Just Jokes

Tomorrow Starts Today

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My best friend is more than my friend or my right arm – she’s my other set of lungs. When I stop breathing, she swoops in to breathe for me while I collect myself and get back into working order.  She probably wants me to find someone to spend my life with more than I do and this is not an exaggeration.  She doesn’t understand my dating life, but who does? Obviously I don’t, hence this blog.

My idea of a successful first date and hers totally differ.

MINE – He had all his teeth. He looked very similar to his online profile. He knows what “Futurama” is.

HERS – When did he schedule your second date?

My answer to her question is always: “Um…? Well, we didn’t really agree on any predetermined time to meet up again but we discussed Richie Havens therefore we’re meant to be.”  By the time I get to the “but” her eyes have rolled out of the sockets and collecting dust on the open road. I don’t even know why I attempt to answer her, because she’s right. She’s younger than me chronologically but has always been the “older” best friend.  One thing she’s told me has stuck with me through the years and that’s ALWAYS have new batteries on hand in case your vibrator dies.  But advice in regards to this current subject – she’s always told me that I will know someone is worthy when they set a date for our next date during the current date.

I didn’t realize the gravity of how true this is until very recently. Ladies, if you don’t have a clear notion of when you’ll see the dude you’re on a date with next, then please trust, that your current date will be your last time. Men who are interested leave absolutely ZERO guess work in their intentions…or maybe it’s just me. *single blink*

Follow me on Twitter: @Bettykiss

Day #13 – A Love Letter To Men With Accents

Happy Groundhog Day! I hope you’re all getting your Bill Murray on tonight.  We are on #13 in the Single Blink’s Countdown to Valentine’s. I hope you enjoy today’s love letter.

Dear Men With Accents,

Talk that talk all up in my eardrums.  You can sing it, whisper it, scream it…fake it. Literally, any accent will do.

Javier Bardem? Sure.

Idris Elba? You know this.

Colin Firth? I gets the vapours.

Sean Connery? To this damn day.

Sylvester Stallone? I can’t understand a word you say so I’m calling it an accent…and he can get it.

This guy :

BRB – I need to change my panties…

AND BACK!  An accent is just so sexy for absolutely no reason.  However, there are exceptions to every rule. I may lose most of you on what I’m about to say next but I stand by my opinion. David Beckham is next-level hot, can we get a Halla-lou?  But I would pay him in silver & gems for the rest of my life to never utter another word. SHUT UP, DAVEY! Have you really, truly listened to him speak? It’s a bigger turn-off/let down than Ryan Gosling deeming Eva Mendes worthy of a relationship (Yeah, I said it! Like he’ll see this).  While Beckham has an accent, his pitch is all wrong thus negating my whole heart’s love for him.

Promise me you’ll listen to the video below with your eyes closed and your monitor off.  You WILL be deafened by his gorgeousness so precautions must be taken. It’s been foretold his beauty would give Helen Keller back all five of her senses.

Exhibit “A-ccent:”

On that note (I think he was talking in the range of High E Above Middle C), he’s married to a beauty with four beautiful children and a beautiful career.  So to all the men in this world with accents, I love you with everything I am.  But David…I can’t actually hear a word you’re saying but it seems every stray dog in the vicinity can. *single blink with a side eye for dessert*

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