The Listy List

It's that time again. You know what time. When I fill you in on all the random and ridiculous things that occupy my life and times. The odds, ends and off the wall stuff that comprises This Bug's Life. Without further ado... The Listy List.

Hot Like Cajun



So the mercury climbed big time in NY a few weeks ago for two long days. It was hotter than the devil's balls out here; hitting record-breaking temps of up to 110 degrees. Now picture that with no AC. That's right. I have no air conditioning at my place by choice. I always got through summer with a spritz bottle and a high powered fan. But this heat was life changing. I had an epiphany- or I might have just been delirious from the heat, I dunno. I got through it with popsicles, multiple showers and more creative uses for ice cubes than Do the Right Thing. Oh, the pool helped too til I almost drowned. More on that later.


Let Me Out

I've had some time to ponder it and without the aid of a very expensive therapist I realize I have some serious trust issues stemming from my childhood. You see, my two older sisters thought it would be fun to zip a six year old into a suitcase. (Honestly, I thought so too.) They just didn't bank on my hair getting caught for two agonizing minutes. When they finally got me out they convinced me that our trip to Disneyworld the very next day would be nixed if I told my parents what happened. Those lying bitches...


Got ta Got ta , Na Na Na!





Okay, I really don't see what everyone is so open about when it comes to the new Kanye West and Jay Z song, Otis. Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying it's wack. I actually like the energy they both came with but the sample for Try A Little Tenderness is damn near the whole song. C'mon already! I like hip-hop samples to be a bit of a brainteaser. You sort of recognize it but not quite until you look into it. Now that's a song. Call me overly critical but production-wise they should have tried a little cleverness.



Sugary Coco Goodness



This Bug is officially addicted to Coconut M&M's. I know I'm late but I don't care. I'm about to cop a lifetime supply and stash them in the freezer because I know that 'limited edition' means they're testing it out on folks and it may never see the light of day again if the sales disappoint. I usually hate all coconut related chocolate. Mounds and Almond Joy sounds more like a movie I'd like to watch when no one else is around. But those little brown, white and green beads are what I believe little girls are really made of. Sugar and spice can't hold a candle to them. It's Yumma!


Dip, Dip Dive..




Let me start by telling you all that I know how to swim. Got that? I can swim. So no one was more surprised than me when I took a dive off the board and didn't have enough air to get to the surface. I went from assenting to struggling in seconds flat. Then I panicked. From underwater I heard the whistle blow and before I knew it- a really hot lifeguard came to my rescue. Really. Hot. I came up dripping wet, gasping for air, my string bikini top heaving between breaths... He held me up from behind against the corner of the pool until he was sure I was okay. Rumor has it that I did all of this on purpose just to get felt up by the Adonis statue with a pulse...but really I still don't know what happened down in that deep water. Truth is- I was scared shitless.


Fiyah Burn, Ya Betta Learn



A word to the wise: Smartphones are stupid. For all the fantastic apps and convenience they supposedly provide- it hardly seems worth it when my overly sensitive touchscreen calls people at ridiculous times of the night, shuts off all of my networks whenever it feels like it and uploads pictures to social networking sites that are not fit for anyone's eyes. Try not to harp on that. Just know that my phone is appropriately named the Torch because there's some hot stuff in there and sometimes...that's exactly what I'd like to do to it with some lighter fluid.


F.O.H!





Speaking of social networking-I almost never entertain ignorance online but a friend of a friend (and I use that term ever so loosely) made me pull out the big guns last week. Foolishly drawing comparisons between someone reacting on instinct and a group of adults publicly abusing a child was worthy of my wrath. I'll spare you the details but I will say that I verbally kicked her soapbox right out from under her. I didn't want to do it but she was so blissfully ignorant that I was forced to make her miserably knowledgeable about what's right, wrong, racist, funny and not fucking funny at all.


Shoephoria





I don't know if it was the sexy strappy leather, the jewel and pearl embellishments or what- but when I saw them, I had to have them. They're ethereal- if one can even describe a pair of shoes in that manner. It's kinda like what a mermaid would wear on her feet. If she had feet. Either way, this mermaid has them now. I know what you're thinking. Mermaid, Schmermaid. But did I mention that I really can swim?


Subtle, My Ass...



I wish I could tell you that this ad isn't from a real catalog that came to someone at my place of business. I wish I could tell you there is no such thing as adhesive patches to stick in your panties so you don't clear the room out after having Cheddar Broccoli soup for lunch. I wish they didn't seriously charge $19 dollars for a trademarked product they had the nerve to name SUBTLE BUTT. I wish the tiniest part of me didn't wonder for a split second what that patch must smell like at the end of the day once peeled from its right place. I wish these wouldn't make a great stocking stuffer for some people I know. I wish...



And now, a peek into This Bug's twisted sense of humor. Enjoy or be offended. Either way, blueberries are the bestest!



Peace Out, Cub Scouts!

Bitch and Pieces

This Bug is starting to realize that her existence must be for the sheer entertainment of one (or many) who sits on high, rolling the tape and pressing pause on my most jarring and hilarious moments (well..to them, anyway). That may seem ridiculous- but so does my life lately. The past few weeks have been nothing short of trying. I'll spare you the sordid details but the morsels are worth sharing.



From the Clunker Chronicles comes yet another tale of woe. Yes, I knew the car needed oil. That little genie-in-the-lamp light thingy on the dash told me so. Yes, I bought two quarts, poured them in and went about my business that day. When the car seemed to be smoking from under the hood hours later, I was puzzled. I bought some Antifreeze and popped the hood. Then I popped the trunk when I remembered that the hood doesn't stay open without being propped up by my trusty 'Peacemaker'. I think it was a broomstick in a former life. Just then, a stranger asked me if I knew what I was doing to which I haughtily replied that I did. Then I saw that I never screwed the oil cap back on from earlier that morning. The sad truth? That's not even the first time I've done that. I should just park up the jalopy and break out the mountain bike. No. I have no idea what I'm doing.




Up until this morning- I had no idea I subconsciously feared growing old. Then I woke up from a dream where I laid down, sans bra and my breast rolled and came to rest comfortably in my left armpit. I mean, even the nip was to the side instead of facing forward (upward?). I dunno. It was hella disturbing and I consider it a nightmare of epic proportions. Up there with when I was being stabbed in an alleyway while acid rain was melting my skin off. It's all pectoral flies and bench pressing from now. And lots and lots of moisturizing. Lots.



I'm so ashamed. Well, not quite. Suffice to say I dabble in the libations a bit. 3 Ciroc bottles. 2 Absoluts. 1 six pack of Heineken. 1 Guinness stout bottle. 6 empty cans of Dole pineapple juice that blend so perfectly with the coconut vodka. And oh, I almost forgot. One telling blue bottle of Reisling. And a partridge in a pear tree. You get the picture. The Hefty bag sounds like the circus is coming to town...or just left.


Um..New York City cops tend to disagree. Unless you have a hack license. That's next on the to-do list after I pay that blasted ticket.



Just so you know, This Bug imbibes more than grapes and grains. Thanks to Will Ferrell in The Other Guys I discovered how wonderfully refreshing a few slices of cucumber can be in ice cold water. Lemon water is so passé. Try it now. Thank me later. And Will, too.



Call it covetous. Call it unethical. Call it what you want. But there is only one pair left in my size at the side gig and I'm hiding them until the price inevitably gets marked down. Now, I know that in some way, shape or form this causes the company to lose money by preventing the common man from purchasing them full price. I get that. But I don't give a fat frog's ass. I've never owned anything so frivolous and over the top fashion-wise and perhaps never will again. Don't judge me...'til you see me sportin' them with some liquid leggings and a gorgeous blouse.


So last weekend my father goes into a popular Superstore that rhymes with Schmalmart. He picks up some coffee creamer and two sets of clothes hangers. Once the cashier rang him up- the total sounded unusually high. It turns out he picked the hangers up from an area they didn't belong in and was mislead about the price. So politely, he asks the cashier to remove the items based on the quality of the hangers in relation to price. Nothing more. She does this quickly and by herself as there was no need for a manager or the ever necessary 'key' at the register. Then she looks at my dad, scans the Coffeemate and says blankly, "You think you can handle that?" All I can say is that the Creator in His infinite wisdom saw to it that I was not there to witness this. She'd still be picking teeth along with whatever else she swallowed that day out of her shit right now.



Anyway, it's been a wild and sometimes taxing ride these past few weeks. I just wanted to share the bits and pieces...and maybe bitch a little. But even after all the frustration- something like this comes along and reminds me that there's always something to smile about:



"Well a very, very heavay ah, heavy dua, bertation tonight, we had a very derst, dereson, bite, lets go head terest tazon lusht to the vet to have the pet."

Fin

Gilligan's Isle: The Office Edition

A job. Work. Livelihood. The gig. Call it what you want. These days, I call mine Gilligan's Island. I say this for two reasons. One, I work with a milieu of oddball characters worthy of their own sitcom. Second, I really need to get off this island. Every day my alarm sounds I'm greeted with a stark reality; Rise and Grind. This is becoming an increasingly arduous task mainly because I'm starting to hate going there. It was cool at first. But any gig will seem cool after a year and half of being unemployed like I was. These days, I sit at my desk inundated with work that bores me to tears. When I'm not trying to find a needle in a haystack I'm thinking of new and interesting ways to make my escape from the following true to life characters at my workplace.

The Diva: As the story goes, she hails from a big shot firm in the city and is slowly...and I mean ever so slowly adjusting to the culture of our homey little office. Where ever she came from, they apparently did nothing for themselves. This includes ordering lunch, carrying a box of files from her Lexus truck and knowing how to copy and paste a document. I wish I was joking about the last one. I'm not. Also, she has a penchant for dressing in all black every day and complains about how freezing she is though I've never seen her clad in anything but pumps, pencil skirts and sleeveless sheaths. Yes, even on the day we were hit with 12 inches of snow. But she sure has that Damsel-in-Distress thing licked.

The Basket Case: There's one in every office. A nice but nerdy girl that is so socially awkward that you'd feel sorry for her if she weren't so damn irritating. Her voice is perhaps a pitch or two lower than a thousand dying cats. She talks with her mouth full and includes herself in conversations she has absolutely nothing to contribute to. Once, she went out to the "post office" and came back with $2000 worth of damage to her car which she claimed happened in the parking lot. When we asked her what happened at the post office she let out a high-pitched squealing explanation of "Idunno!Inevermadeit!" Not a breath in between. Who knows what carnage she left in her clumsy ass wake. She's never at her desk. Actually, I think she's usually under it secretly devouring sleeves of Oreo cookies since she seems shy to eat in front of another human being. She may be bulimic. Just my suspicion.

Nosferatu: This dude frightens me. Every. Single. Day. He doesn't walk, he saunters. And sometimes, he's lurking in the doorway for God knows how long before someone looks up and notices he's there. He claims to be married and bemoans the cost of his daughter's upcoming wedding to anyone who will pretend to listen. This guy actually reproduced? I don't buy it. He has a stubborn fang that looks like it's been pulled ten times already but continues to grow back. It's a wonder he hasn't stabbed his lower lip while he yammers on about shit no one cares about. That thing is sharp, okay? I started keeping garlic in my bottom drawer and he now mysteriously keeps his distance.


The (Multi) Millionaire: Yeah, no shipwrecked island is complete without one- so we have him. He actually looks like one of the Kennedys. One of the dearly departed, bloated, alcoholic Kennedys known for accidentally driving off bridges with pretty party girls legal secretaries in the car who aren't so lucky as him. I'll say this much: If his head weren't attached, it would be sitting right on the desk with the files he perpetually needs for closings and the Blackberry he seemingly cannot live without. His wife calls him 20 times a day...and 20 times a day he's "in a meeting" when she does. To each his own. I actually think he and the Diva would make a great pair if they weren't married to other people and if either one had an attention span longer than Polaroid flashbulb.


The Snacker: I really have no complaints about the Snacker. She's just known for eating every time you pass her office. Granola bars. Pop Tarts. Biscotti. Last night's lasagna. You name it. But she shares the goods which is a plus. I honestly have no idea where she puts it. She must have the metabolism of a racehorse because anyone else would be 100 pounds overweight by now if they ate the way she does. She's just healthy. And strong as an ox. I swear I saw her lift and change the Poland Springs water cooler with her pinkie finger once.



The Space Invader: This girl worked in my office for a week before she divulged that she was drinking a gallon of cranberry juice a day to battle a pesky UTI. Why I knew that much about her vag so soon- or at all is anybody's guess. She also told wildly inappropriate jokes- even by my standards. I used to wonder why she stands so close to everyone when she speaks to them- but then I realized that most of what she says has no place being spoken aloud in an office. The girl is a freak. Simple and plain.


The Dirty Old Man: It is with mixed emotions that I write about this guy. Some of you may remember when I caught him surfing porn at his desk a while back. Well, he had some serious health trouble and at the ripe old age of 71, he can no longer practice law. But I know where ever he is now- he has visions of daisy chains dancing in his head.


How I'm able to spend 40 hours a week with these people is a testament to my fortitude. I avoid them at all costs and make myself scarce when I can. It could only be worse if The Skipper had a back office. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a resumé to go upload.

And..how did you find me, again?

So it's going on three years since I started This Bug's Life. No drum roll. No bells and whistles. I already got the 100th post out of my system. It's been a pretty good run and I can only hope to continue it. That being said- I'm still figuring out this whole 'Blogger' format. Recently, I discovered a neat little tab on the dashboard of my blog once I signed in. "STATS". It was there that a whole new world opened up to me. Of course it shows you how many page views you've gotten in a day, week, month, etc. and referring websites but that's not what caught my interest. There's list of the top key words that people Googled in order to reach my site. Much to my surprise (and some less so) I learned what led random traffic directly to This Bug's Life. Here goes:



assup - Call me slow, but it took me a second to realize that more than one person hastily typed in 'Ass Up' as in Uncle Luke's infamous chant, "Face Down, Ass Up. That's the way we like to F**k" and somehow wound up on my blog. Wowzas.




massaging a martini - I wish I knew what the hell this is supposed to mean. I really don't remember posting anything that involved massages and martinis simultaneously- but I'm officially inspired.



bug's life racist - As if! Actually, I know exactly what this is about. I got my hooks in Disney a while back and didn't let go. It's in the archives. Check it out. I pissed a few people off simply by shattering their flowery childhood memories of a few beloved cartoon classics. If pointing out the obvious facts makes This Bug a racist...let's discuss it. Seriously.



bitchwearingnodraws - Ha! I saw this one and thought, 'Classy huh?'. Then I saw how many folks have come across the Panty Free Friday I was thinking about petitioning for as a national holiday. Once you go Commando for a day- you'll understand why a 'bitch wearing no draws' is highly unoffensive when sought after in proper taste. Let's do this!




taxi cop- It's not a myth, People. They exist. It's sneaky. It's entrapment. And it's perfectly legal. Think about that the next time you decide to text with that yellow cab next to you at the red light.


Anyway, it matters very little what led you here. You got here. And made This Bug very happy in the process. Make it a Favorite. Bookmark it. Come back for more. You might be surprised at what you stumble upon. I know I was- and I write the damn thing.

Ciao!

Odds and Ends

This Bug is back in a major way.  It may not seem like it but I was out of the loop for several months. The hows and whys are less important than the fact that I'm back now.  No longer relegated to blogging stealthily from work or distractedly from a PC other than my own.  Now it's just me, my keyboard, my ashtray and the freedom to tap tap tap away.  Of course, I can't come back without a Random Rundown to let you know what's been going on.  Shall we? Let's.

Eye Can't Believe It

Recently I started seeing spots.  Tiny, globular shapes were traipsing across my field of vision, along with some eye pain for about a week before I made an appointment to see the opthamologist.  What did I learn? 1. Those pesky little things I saw are called Floaters.  (Which is a term I always associated more with something in a commode but whatever.) 2.  There is no real explanation or cure for this annoying condition. 3. I have stubborn pupils. Those were the doctor's exact words after he administered drops that were meant to dilate my pupils.  It took 3x the normal amount for the desired result and it stung like a bitch.  I'll never whine about shampoo in my eye ever again. That's a treat compared to those dastardly drops.  Anyway, I'm just glad it's not a detached retina or a brain tumor. (Whew!) The symptoms are identical.

Ride 'em, Cowbug

I've officially added riding a mechanical bull in Vegas to my Bucket List.  It has to be in Vegas. Why? I don't know why.  Because I don't think Texas is gonna see This Bug anytime soon.  Now, this isn't some off-the-cuff split decision.  I've done my research.  Sure it looks sexy- but there's nothing sexy about flopping face first onto some rubber mat in front of a drunken crowd.  You have to be in pretty damn good shape to stay on.  Strong legs and knowing how to move with the bull's momentum help immensely. I think I have that licked.  It should be fun providing I don't flop face first into a drunken crowd.  Stay tuned.

Up In The Air

I watched this flick for the first time last week  There's not one detail in it that I didn't love. The man traveled with military-like precision.  He spent most of his time literally up in the air.  Flying the friendly skies and as the play on words go- with uncertainty.  It's a very grown-up movie about grown-ups and the childlike reservations they tend to hold onto.  I learned two things. Hatchet Men don't necessarily enjoy their job.  That's a huge misconception.  Also, the song O.P.P. can really be viewed as the ultimate cheaters' anthem.  It sort of gave the green light to unfaithful behavior by making it a cool club to be a member of.  I love the scene in which this plays by the way.  Clooney makes you want to crash corporate parties with him.

The Soldier of Love

It must be life's little joke on This Bug that Sade will be a stone's throw away from me next year and it's a wrap for any prospect of me getting tickets. Wait, did you read that correctly? Yup. Next. Year. She puts an album out like what? Once every six years?  She performs sporadically.  This hurts.  That's all for now.  Unless you would like to make a donation to my PayPal account.  In that case- all hope is not lost.  Now, I'm happy to get the kind that jingles...but I'd rather have the kind that folds, dig?  If you think I'm groveling, do remember that Love Is Stronger than Pride. 

"How much can you know yourself if you've never been in a fight?"

I didn't think it would come to this- but I seriously wish there was a real underground Fight Club I could join.  Somewhere I could beat the shit out of someone.  Somewhere I might get the shit beat out of me. If that's the case- the loss would be worthwhile.  Lately, the anger comes in waves and it's a dangerous thing. I'm starting to identify with the likes of Naomi Campbell (Runway Ripper and Cell Phone Hurler Extraordinaire) and it's disturbing. There are tons of anger management resources in the Yellow Pages but for some reason- no underground clubs to knuckle up. Rule #1. You cannot google Fight Club.  Rule #2.  You cannot google Fight Club! I am Bug's raging bile duct...

Color me Optimistic

I'm seriously considering an accent wall in my place.  I chose Peacock Feather.  I was pretty pleased with this prospect until I was told it looks like it belongs in a bathroom.  Well, it just might.  But at least I tried something new- which is what I'm hitting for.  Home Depot sells these cool little 8oz samples of any color you choose so I'll give it a spin before I commit to an entire gallon.  If it sucks, I can always cover it with paint left behind by my super when I first moved in.  Wish me luck.

There is a (Mixtape) God

Question: Who knows about mixtapes?  Put your hand down, youngens.  This is not for you.  You see, This Bug remembers when mixtapes were actually tapes. A good friend pointed out that they now come as CD's and it's just not the same.  I can remember copping Clue tapes from the Ave.  I can remember tapes popping from incessant listening. I can recall the loss I felt when someone got me for a classic tape. Well, thanks to technological advancement I was able to replace a Dirty Harry tape from 1996 that I got somebody for. (Love ya, Broham.)  Words can't express my elation when I downloaded each song in the exact sequence that I remember. I would post the link on here but I'd rather make heads work for it.  If you truly want it bad enough- you'll get resourceful the way I did or- you can just hit my email and I would slide you that link because it shows that you went the extra mile and that makes you, like me, a Hip Hop purist.  We take care of our own.

Time and Space and In Between

You know that saying, "Time flies when you're having fun." ? Why doesn't anyone ever mention that it also flies when you're not having fun. That it flies or drags according to how busy you are and how much you have to get done. I've been dealing with that a lot lately. I'm a working stiff now. It's a far cry from last year when I had time to do what I wanted to do since I was unemployed. Sure, I had less money- but the time to myself and freedom was priceless. I could go to Hip-Hop shows. Sleep late. Write. Food shop. I could actually make spontaneous plans (as oxymoronic as that sounds). I could blog at my leisure. *sniff sniff* That's what I miss the most. It's funny- I was talking to someone the other day about time and money and how subjective they both are depending on the circumstances. Take for example five dollars. Five dollars is not a lot of money. Not if it came to say...buying a car. Shit, gimme two if that's the case. But am I going to pay five dollars for a Jolly Rancher? Hell to the no. The same theory is relevant with time. Five minutes at the DMV is akin to a wet dream. But I've heard five minutes of an asthma attack is the equivalent of five unbearable hours. So it's all relative. Anyway, read on if you want to know what This Bug has been doing with her time and moola when they both flow a little freely.

Last year it was Breakfast at Tiffany's. This year it was Kill Bill. I don't care what anyone says. Halloween is fun and I'm not too old for it. This one was a doozie. It involved a lot dying and sewing where the costume was concerned (That alone was a labor of love. My dad rocks!) and I went through two wig changes. The first wig was a platinum blond and made me look more like Diddy's moms than Beatrix Kiddo. But I got it right eventually. Note to self: Take samurai sword out of backseat.

(This Bug baked)

You know, when some one asks you to make a big ass cupcake for their child's birthday party- you never expect that many accolades for simply following instructions. But the praise was overwhelming this weekend. It's amazing the oohs and ahhs some silicone bakeware and custom made (read: freakin' overpriced) sprinkles can solicit. I swear everyone there were just overgrown kids drooling over an over sized cupcake. At this point, I'm so over it.

And speaking of over it, I am so not when it comes to the Ghostface performance I broke my neck to go see. If anyone runs into Mr. Starks, please let him know I have a bone to pick with him. First of all, I don't blame him for things that are out his control, like the show being under promoted and having a sparse crowd. I don't blame him for being disappointed with the venue. When Cappadonna asked for the lights to be adjusted, I kinda felt Ghost when he said, "They don't got no light man. They don't got shit!" It was type funny because it was so true. But his energy was not 100% and once again he flooded the stage with those Theodore Unit cats. Why? They can't rhyme for shit. How many glorified hype men does one need? I love me some Ghost, but that show was trash. I mean- Sheek Louch was drunk but at least he looked like he gave a fat frog's ass and his catalog can't compare to what Ghost has in the stash. But unfortunately, that well went untapped most of night. I would've at least felt as though my money was well spent had he freaked off with the groupies onstage like the pic above. That might have entertained me. *Sigh*

Let me say this: Role playing works wonders and shouldn't be limited to couples who think they've lost the spark. It can actually lend additional fireworks to an already sparky relationship. (Is sparky even a word? Spellcheck says yes- though my context is questionable.) So, head out. Meet up with that not-so-unfamiliar stranger and let your imaginations be your only limitation. How can you go wrong? At the end of it all, neither of you can be charged for bad behavior when you already know each other. Am I right? You may be surprised at what a mock first date can spark. And...Oh yeah, a blond wig or samurai sword leftover from Halloween can't hurt. Unless you want it to. Just sayin'...

This book freakin' rocks. And I'm only the first chapter in. I have to say that happening by this book in a Dollar Store and actually buying it for one dollar (no lie) has been one of the best things that has occurred all year. It's the little things, dig? This woman can write her ass off and she's deeper than the River Styx. It's not a self help book. It's not a novel. It has history anecdotes, admissions of every day people and a different spin on age old ruminations of self. It defies categorization and that's what I love about it. Check out this excerpt:

In 2002, Verizon Wireless debuted a service called Get It Now. This allowed subscribers to download music, videos and other entertainments onto their cell phones: "Watch sports clips, comedy, news and weather from major networks and indie favorites -- all on your phone, on demand," the promo urged. "Express yourself with colorful and stylish images.... Fight boredom with fun games."

But by the time you read this, such technology will already be ancient history. And I will look the fool for citing it, like an old rube in a cartoon trying to feed hay to a car. Cutting edges are disposable blades now, replaced incessantly. We watch, twitching and restless.

I haven't enjoyed such a milieu of ideas and stories since The 48 Laws of Power. Find it now. Read it soon. Thank me later.

Time is such a precious commodity- as subjective as it is. I'll leave you with a Tweet I saw just the other day but chose not to #RT (that's retweet for all the those who are clueless just like I was) because...Twitter just doesn't do it for me, okay? There I said it. Anyway, it goes like this: "Yesterday is a canceled check. Tomorrow is a promissory note. Today is the only cash you have. Spend it wisely."

I couldn't agree more. Today, do the things that will bring you closer to your purpose and peace. That's the space where happiness lies. Make it count. You won't regret it. I know I didn't.

Just a thought

In an effort to escape the doldrums of my livelihood, I'm back with the ever popular list.  Just the random musings and occurrences that go on.  I never tire of sharing the exploits and aimless thoughts that make up This Bug's Life. It keeps me sane.  Some thoughts from the mind of a jilted, Ciroc swiggin' blogger just trying to make it... 

What the hell ever happened to tan M&M's ? Not only did they quietly disappear years ago, but they were replaced by blue ones.  Seriously, if they had to chuck a color- nobody would have missed the dark brown ones. Nobody.  And maybe it's just me, but I have a strong distrust for anything edible that's an unnatural shade of blue.  Blue juice.  Blue Jell-O.  Blue popsicles. Blue lollipops.  It never quite tastes like raspberry and it leaves your tongue looking like you felated a Smurf. Uh-uh. They can keep that.  But...This Bug has been known to sip her share of Hypnotiq.  Stay tuned for a drink recipe.

 As a film buff, I'm not ashamed to say that I've never seen a full Woody Allen movie. Ever.  I dunno, he just seems boring. He's supposed to be this Oscar winning genius- and he very well may be, but I just don't see it.  It's quite possible that I'm missing out on fantastic cinematic experiences but I just have no interest in his work. That's not to say I haven't tried.  I got about 20 minutes into Hannah and Her Sisters before shutting it off.  It was a forgettable experience to say the least.  To say the most? The Purple Rose of Cairo sucked.  Let's move on. 

I've said it time and again. This Bug leads an interesting life.  I don't know why I attract the crazies. The weirdos. Those in a state of arrested development.  It's like I'm Lady Liberty only my banner reads: "Bring me your deranged, your unstable. Your huddled masses yearning to send photos of genitalia via text message." That's what happened weeks ago when I ran into a guy I went to Junior High with and we exchanged numbers to catch up.  After sporadic text messages over 2 weeks, we finally spoke on the phone. General conversation. And I mean general. Nothing that would make it okay to send a pic from the neck down to the forbidden forest 5 minutes after getting off the phone.  I'm not kidding.  Everything was in this photo but the head. (Yeah, that one.) The jury is still out on what made him think that was perfectly acceptable to do. On the upside, I think the shower curtain in background was from Target and I really want to change the scheme of my bathroom so kudos to him for giving me decorating ideas...Freakin' perv.

When the going gets tough, the tough get over it.  That's been my motto since a series of unfortunate events have blindsided me in the past few weeks.  I don't know if it's some built-in coping mechanism or what, but losing myself in work and striving to keep my sanity and blog about it has become my number one priority.  It's been a tough road financially, romantically and nutritionally since I barely have time to eat while running between two jobs.  But hey, nothing a soy protein shake can't help during the day and a glass of Goose and Cran can't fix at night.  Food is for sissies.

Shady, Shady, Shady...Okay, I'm not sure what happened between his verse off Drake's Forever remix and that sad excuse for an anthem, Not Afraid but This Bug is baffled. If I run into him on the humble, I'll have to ask sincerely ask him, "Son...what happened?" I read that he'd gone through some things in the past few years and he had to pause for the cause.  Rehab, Depression.  A friend passing away. That's alot to deal with. I feel that. I hadn't heard the new album, Recovery but I was looking forward to his return when I heard the remix of Forever. He murdered it with real lyrics.  That's the Em I know and respect.  Honestly, I used to listen to that song 'til the end just to hear his part.  His energy was crazy the way he comes into the track.

"There they go! Back in stadiums

as Shady spits his flow.

Nuts they go- Macadamia. They go so ballistic whoa."

Then I heard 'Not Afraid' and wondered what the fuck happened. He's singing. Singing, yo. And his delivery is forced. I have to call it like I see it. If you're gonna continue on this path- you should be afraid, Em. Just sayin'...

Equal parts Hypnotiq + Alize Gold on Ice = a She Hulk.   Pretty tasty cocktail if you can do a juicy cognac/vodka mix.  Take it from me. Sip it slow or run the risk of radio-active intoxication, leaving nothing but amnesia for the all the destruction you may leave in your wake. I speak from experience.