This Blog is for You, and You, and You over There Too

Dear Readers,


Before I even start, I wanted to share this thought with you.

Love is someone who checks in on you when your shower is particularly long. 

It is not like I take little cheesy splashes like so many birds, its just because a long shower is a luxury that I don't typically partake upon. In this shower, I decided to shave without drawing blood, without thinking about the chores and whatnots that would have to happen today, without planning my meals for the day...I even turned off my supersonic mommy hearing.  It was very relaxing.  I even deep conditioned my hair. 

Unfortunately, because there is always an unfortunately...this long shower devoid of useful thinking allowed my brain to go to other places.  Not even nice secret dark places of pleasure! Not even those.  Trust me, I am really good about using my Me Time.  I didn't even remotely consider any of the loveliness and happy spots around my body.  Nope.  No loving in that shower.  Me Time did not warp into Oh Yeah Me Time! Later....

So what did I go....

I bet you want to know.

Dontcha Dontcha Dontcha

Obviously there is a reason that I am here instead of tending to the Artist Formally Known As.  Ok, ok, she is asleep, but not for long.  It has come to my attention (and this is not the last time or first time) that I say a whole lot online.  OF COURSE I DO. I am a Pisces.  Sheesh....we LOVE this shit.  Anyway.....

In the shower I was indulging in Conversations With You!! I guess the they are best called Conversations With Myself, but no, not really, because in order for them to be Conversations With Myself, I would have to actually answer myself.  Conversations With You are conversations that may never ever be answered (as You are not there). Conversations With You are very useful should I ever have the actual conversation with you in Real Time.  Then you will be so fascinated with the snappy smart responses.  Unbeknownst to you, Conversations With You are almost rehearsals.  Sometimes I ad-lib your responses.  Those responses range from these levels:

1. What I Wish You Would Say
2. What You Will Probably Say
3. What I Pray That You Don't Even Think Because My Inner Karate ChopSpert May Want To Kick You in The Mouth

Do you understand, Dear Readers, why this shower was so long? Imagine! First of all Conversations With You are seldom with just one person.  In this case there was one burning conversation and a few smaller ones.  I think I purposely added the few small ones because I didn't want the stress and obligation (STRESS) to Talk to Only One You in my entire shower.

Dear Readers, in the spirit of sharing everything down the to the wart that I burned off this week, I have decided to share today's Conversations With You.  I don't think I will go to the trouble of playing with the response ranges.  If I do that, we will be here all freaking day and the Artist Formally Known As & I have stuff to do today.  Our time is very precious and feels oh so good and DAMN you Pandora for playing Al Green right now.  This is not the music for this blog.  Oh...deep thoughtful pause and the Lola in me challenges the Christine to a Soul Bop Dance Off.....times are good or bad, happy or sad....

Ok, I am back.  I just want to interject, especially to one of my favorite Dear Readers, mother of the King...I really love Ana Steele's inner diva and subconscious and I really think that I have also harbored all these inner Me's and I am so happy that someone thought to write about them. Not so secretly I am seething that I didn't do it first or at the very least in between covers of a novel or three....

What I don't do in my blog is expose the people that I write about.  If you are someone who knows me and honestly knows our relationship both here and in Real Time, then you ought to know who you are when I talk about/to you.  Ok? Real talk, don't let the cute confuse you, I am uber serious and I do NOTHING ACCIDENTALLY.   If you really want to see the me at my best and worst and best again, go visit Lola Tuesday.  Most of my Dear Readers have read all of my blogs and follow my FB, Twitter and Google+.  Knowledge is power, yo.  I am no different.  Keep thinking that I don't know.  One Dear Ex felt the (sage) need to protect her reputation upon our break up and started telling people that I was the...wait, I need to translate something into Spanish.... dead mosquito...

Mosquito Muerto! This is a person who plays innocent but in real time is quite aware of who they really are.  Does anyone really mourn a dead mosquito? Hell to the no.  This mosquito is not going ANYWHERE.  Anyway,  yes, I am well aware of the strength of my words and actions, especially with a willing keyboard at my fingers.

That being say.....BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

First Conversation:

So I missed piano last week...I could have actually made it.  What did I miss? I really don't think that I am really taking this class seriously.  In fact, as long as you are listening, I can honestly tell you that I only took this class to be near you.  I don't know why I am so drawn to you, but I am.  Anyhow, I don't want to embarrass myself as I have a man, as well as you and this would go absolutely no where.  It is ok for me to have an innocent crush on you.  I won't waste your time, but could I trace your ink art with my finger? I think that is what I have always wanted to do.  Just trace it.  Am I blushing? Yes. I can find middle C.  Let's talk piano. 

Second Conversation:

No I don't give a rat's ass about you, but maybe I do because you sneak into my thoughts STILL.  Jesus take the wheel but you know how to rile me up.  Sometimes the effort put into ignoring someone takes so much out of me.  Shit.  Ugh.  No I don't have burning questions.  Why would you assume that I want answers that would never be sufficient enough? I don't believe anything that you say.  You are a liar, and a poor one.  Ugh....such a whiny, pouty, Mistress of Nothing.  Embrace the time that we had together and be happy that I am adult enough to anonymously rake through our trash here and not to your face.  I don't even want to share this trash pile with you.  Ick.  Please stalk away on your freakishly tiny feet, attached to those cankles and ample thighs and go...far....away....sheesh.  

Third Conversation:

I know that you want to call me.  Ha. I have nothing to say to you.  You messed it up again, but it was wise for you to do so, because you are right, I will never give up with I have with her.  I am in love.  You will find someone for you too, I know you will.  I wish I could give you advice on how to, but our time was so short.

Fourth Conversation:

DAMN STOP WHISPERING!! How do you expect me to understand you if you insist on whispering?? I really do want to understand that words that are coming out of your mouth but the guttural semi gay semi threatening way that you speak makes my eyes dilute and my arm hair stand on end.  Please.  Just speak.      

Fifth Conversation:

Listen, I really don't dislike you.  The truth of the matter is, I will never throw confetti over a relationship outside of mine.  As a strong woman of color (insert snicker) talking to someone who surrounds herself by people of color (insert snort) you must know that this is ah different for me.  The fact of the matter is, we should probably discuss this over tofu stir fry and absurdly small heads of broccoli.   I am deeply dedicated to my relationship and not only do I not expect anyone to treat my man the way that I do, it is simply not anyone's place to worry about such things.  The formula is simple: All the players know their place.  I would talk about sports but I would pluck it up because I don't follow sports.  Not like the other one.  Yes, there will always be other ones.  It's cool.  As long as we all know our place in the magnificent life.  The Universe already knows.  Namaste.

Sixth Conversation:

Anytime we talk about something that you find to be serious, you ask me not to blog about it.  I didn't even know that you read my blogs, so that makes me feel special.  I wish we were closer.  We don't have much in common, but contrary to popular thought, I do wish we had a stronger familial bond.  I don't mind being who I am.  I guess I can't really complain about you having events and not including me, because we all know that I seldom show up.  I guess what I am trying to say is, I still want to know.  I do sometimes feel lonely, but I know that my loneliness is self-afflicted.  I rake my fingers through my wildly curly unruly hair and think that this is who I really am.  I can't fit the box that you might need me to fit.  I should try though.  Nope. I won't. I love you all the same.  

Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth Conversations:

Please stop pretending to be my friend to sleep with me.  By sleep with me, I mean, take my body as if you have some real investment besides your own needy gratification.  You missed the window of opportunity when I suffered for absentee self esteem.  Now I am well aware that my curves make your eyes roll back and your groin pound.  I. Don't. Want. Nor. Do. I. Need. You. To. Touch. Me.  First of all, my sex life is very awesome and second of all, I am really quite crafty at pleasuring myself.  I enjoy me, all the time, every day.  You are not welcome.  You ought to practice self gratification.  You may however continue to day/noon/night dream about my endlessly long legs wrapping around your body.  You may continue to wonder about the point of climax when my back arches, my breath quickens and my eyes shut tight and then snap open to rapt attention.  I know what I have, what to do with it, and what it can do to another.  So does my man.  The position has been filled.   

Whew.  Dear Readers, I am back.  Those last few conversations are making me feel some kind of way.  Mmmmmm do I love me..... 

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ

A simple start, 

Christine