What's that you say? It's Wednesday and I skipped a day in my 30 Day Blog Challenge Bonanza? I should be ashamed of myself for dropping the ball so early in the game?
Kiss my ass.
I say that with love. I clicked on the new post link last night, but CoCo was here and I was tired. I know I'm tardy for the party, but I will make up to you by blogging my ass off tonight. Starting with Post #3 in my challenge - My Parents.
I am pretty much a perfect mixture of my parents, for better and for worse.
My dad: tall, dark-skinned, well-built, quiet and stoic. A simple country boy who likes nice things, pretty women, cooking, fishing, movies, sports, farming and gardening, animals, cars, legumes, seafood, and Chinese buffets and has a wierd sense of humor. Those are indeed my lips in my profile picture - I get those from my pappy.
My mom: just below average height, super curvy, light-skineed, dramatic and intense. A simple city girl who likes clothes and purses, blue collar men (My dad is not one in his professional life. Incidentally, they divorced when I was two), eating, television, reading, landscaping, chocolate cereal, shrimp, and Ryan's buffets and has a wierd sense of humor. I've got her big brown eyes.
I'm a lot like my dad in that I'm not a big talker, but I mean what little I do say. I learned how to be good with my hands and good with a grill from him. I didn't learn how to mack from him, but I noticed similarities in our techniques back when he was single: we just let the lips and country bo(i) charm draw 'em in. *lol* Women love my dad because he is the picture of masculinity without being a macho jackass. My dad is a man. A man who loves his babygirl and his teacup Yorkies. We are very much similar in those aspects. He didn't always set the best examples, and he wasn't always the best ex-husband to my mother, but, 9.9 times out of 10, my dad is there for me whenever I need him.
I'm a lot like my mom in that I'm focused and intense and I generally keep to myself. I learned how to stand up for myself, take care of myself, and make a twenty out of a penny from her. Mama don't take no shit. I learned a little bit of game from my mom, watching how she never made things too easy and always demanded honesty and respect. I also learned that it was okay for a girl to date more than one person at a time. (Notice I said date, not fuck. You ain't call my mom a ho, but I saw you thinkin' it. *mean mug*) Men love my mom because she is the picture of femininity without being prissy or frilly. My mom is an amazing woman, and she raised me and my big bro pretty damn well. And nobody in the world can piss me off as well as she can. *l* Most of time, we love each other to pieces. But when we clash, it's very much ugly. I cry about once a year - always mother frustration related. I hate drama and bullshit; my mom loves to play the victim and make everything about her. I love the woman to death, but we don't always like each other. I once joked to Apples that because of my tumultuous relationship with moms, I'm still looking for a light-skinned woman who'll treat me right. I think I might have been onto something there.
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