<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Thu, 16 Feb 2012 08:48:47 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>I Put On For My City</category><category>For the Love Of All Things Automated</category><category>That Was Random</category><category>Will Pussy Pop for Plays</category><category>James Brown Y'all</category><category>A Letter From The President</category><category>Up on Dot . Dot</category><category>A Very Sad Day</category><category>Us Can Read</category><category>Boosie Said It</category><category>Inspiration for that Azz</category><category>As The Words Turn</category><category>Thanks...I'm Starved</category><category>Thought of the Day</category><category>It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp</category><category>Further Proof That Men Are Pigs</category><category>Random As Hell</category><category>On the BoobTube</category><category>Something for the Fellas</category><category>Tis the Season</category><category>This is harder than I thought</category><category>Oh...A Bitch Can Get Deep</category><category>Ask Doctors Shrim Pegg and Phoo Young</category><category>Yikes and Eek</category><category>What Would Ja Rule Do?</category><category>Young Black and In the Ghetto</category><category>GeekSquad Up</category><category>How To Never Get A Guy...But Still Try</category><category>You My Sista Girl</category><category>Drink Specials</category><category>Cook It Yourself</category><category>Life Lessons from A Liver</category><category>Sexniques</category><category>Sex In The County</category><category>On the iPod</category><category>It's Not Your Booty...It's Your Beauty</category><category>Friends Family and Boys</category><title>CocktailOur</title><description>We're not drunk...we're crazy!</description><link>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (CocktailOur)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>142</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Cocktailour" /><feedburner:info uri="cocktailour" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-752091523056164902</guid><pubDate>Sun, 06 Nov 2011 14:10:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-11-06T09:23:18.191-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">James Brown Y'all</category><title>Blacks Only</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wYrhYf16liI/TraVKlCVJnI/AAAAAAAAAo0/ywSuss8Si70/s1600/white_tenants-794755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="249" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wYrhYf16liI/TraVKlCVJnI/AAAAAAAAAo0/ywSuss8Si70/s320/white_tenants-794755.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
I just read Ann Coulter's "Our blacks are so much better than their blacks" and "Our blacks are so much more impressive" comments and was actually disgusted. &amp;nbsp;Not because she's an idiot, but because she, and many others, honestly don't know that she's an idiot. &amp;nbsp;They actually believe her foolish ideas and adopt them. &amp;nbsp;She's an idiot with power. &amp;nbsp;Not many things are more dangerous than that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The thing that inspired me to write this post, however, is what Pat Buchanan said in his book about Blacks in the segregation era. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 22px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;“Back then, black and white lived apart, went to different schools and churches, played on different playgrounds, and went to different restaurants, bars, theaters, and soda fountains. But we shared a country and a culture. We were one nation. We were Americans.”&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I don't know why, but this slid a thought into my head. &amp;nbsp;Would blacks be better off if we had remained segregated from whites? &amp;nbsp;I think about the quick decline of our race and wonder how much of it has to do with our adoption of the white culture's views and practices. &amp;nbsp;To some people I might be talking out of my ass, but that doesn't stop Ann Coulter or Pat Buchanan so hear me out. &amp;nbsp;I am not totally blaming whites for the decline of blacks, but let's face it...they can at least be charged with accessory. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I think of the many other races that have, in some way, remained segregated from the rest of the races and I notice that they tend to be the most successful groups. &amp;nbsp;Native Americans and Jews. &amp;nbsp;I do understand that the difference between the Black race and those I mentioned is that they had the choice to segregate and we didn't. &amp;nbsp;They didn't have to fight for education and rights like we did, although we were here longer than them. &amp;nbsp;For that, we were at a disadvantage. &amp;nbsp;However, think of how much they've managed to keep by segregating; the things that ultimately make them so successful. &amp;nbsp;They live in their own communities, buy within those communities and pass down their history and heritage. &amp;nbsp;They have their own schools and educate their own children. &amp;nbsp;This allows them to teach the values and customs that their races have passed down for generations. &amp;nbsp;This ensures that their race will remember where they came from and not lose who they are. &amp;nbsp;Yes, I'm aware that we lost our African history when we were stolen and brought here, but that doesn't mean we can't teach the little that we know. &amp;nbsp;After slavery we still had enough family value, pride and respect to teach our children. &amp;nbsp;We still had enough knowledge of the struggle to be taught to as a reminder and not as an excuse.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I wonder what we would be like if we had remained segregated. &amp;nbsp;We would have our own schools, be forced to support one another, buy black and keep our race thriving; just like the Jews and the Native Americans. &amp;nbsp;The more we're integrated into white culture, the worse we get. &amp;nbsp;Yes, they still would've flooded our communities with crack, but I like to think that we would've been better equipped to fight the temptation because we would've been a stronger people by that point. &amp;nbsp;They would have no one to blame the decline of America on but themselves. &amp;nbsp;The true culprit of&amp;nbsp;destruction&amp;nbsp;would've been clear for all to see. &amp;nbsp;Sadly, it's probably too late to fix the problem. &amp;nbsp;The mindset of some of our people are too diseased and distorted to salvage.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don't want anyone to think of this as a racist rant. &amp;nbsp;I just have no sense of political correctness. &amp;nbsp;Can't we be real and see things for what they truly are? &amp;nbsp;I'm all for people voicing their opinions. &amp;nbsp;I'm usually not offended by racism, sexism or any of the other isms. &amp;nbsp;Ism's aren't the things that should bother us. &amp;nbsp;Injustices should.&amp;nbsp; I respect people who openly declare their prejudices. &amp;nbsp;Why cower and hide it? &amp;nbsp;If you feel a certain way about something, say it loud! ::does James Brown shuffle:: &amp;nbsp;I feel that people should be able to voice their opinions as long as it's in a civil manner. &amp;nbsp;In my opinion, I'd rather know that my co-worker is an outright racist, than to have to suspect it and not be sure of whether to steer clear of them or not.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Instead of wasting time #Occupying stupid areas of our cities that don't seem to bother anyone, try looking for real ways to improve our conditions. &amp;nbsp;Have a pow-wow with the Native Americans and the Jews to see how they are fairing. &amp;nbsp;I'm sure much better than the rest of us.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-752091523056164902?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/xintsxbEcFg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/xintsxbEcFg/i-just-read-ann-coulters-our-blacks-are.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wYrhYf16liI/TraVKlCVJnI/AAAAAAAAAo0/ywSuss8Si70/s72-c/white_tenants-794755.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-just-read-ann-coulters-our-blacks-are.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-6859494485098685931</guid><pubDate>Fri, 04 Nov 2011 20:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-11-04T16:32:33.608-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Cook It Yourself</category><title>The New &amp; Improved Model</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXFJsgz1b00/TrRKpZ5_Q9I/AAAAAAAAAos/IrAXuKKaozE/s1600/4283-NEW-And-Improved-Blank-Can-Of-Clip-Art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXFJsgz1b00/TrRKpZ5_Q9I/AAAAAAAAAos/IrAXuKKaozE/s320/4283-NEW-And-Improved-Blank-Can-Of-Clip-Art.jpg" width="204" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;A lot has changed since the 1900's.&amp;nbsp; There was once a time when men and women had specific roles and duties.&amp;nbsp; The man was the provider and the woman the nurturer/homemaker.&amp;nbsp; This worked pretty well until the age of feminism.&amp;nbsp; Now I know that feminism brought a lot of hassle, but in the long-run it worked out well for everyone.&amp;nbsp; Oddly, feminism benefited men more than anyone.&amp;nbsp; Think about it.&amp;nbsp; Not only does she still have to birth, nurture and support those babies...but the bitch has to bring in money too!&amp;nbsp; Cha-Ching!!!&amp;nbsp; We got what we asked for right?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;What bothers me about this entire evolution of the female species is the fact that the men haven't changed a bit.&amp;nbsp; We've added many new feathers to our hats, but what workload has increased for men?&amp;nbsp; Not only in the past 100+ years has the man's load gotten lighter, but he still requires more from women than ever before!&amp;nbsp; I honestly and truthfully don't get it.&amp;nbsp; Everyday I see advice for women on how to keep her man, support her man, encourage her man, look good for her man...yadda yadda yadda.&amp;nbsp; Why?&amp;nbsp; We're cooking, cleaning, working and supporting and still aren't allowed to expect a thing from you until you're "mature" or "ready" enough to be a man.&amp;nbsp; Yesterday some broad even suggested that I should shut up and let my grown ass man watch South Park because he "works hard as fuck" and deserves it.&amp;nbsp; Bitch what do you think I do all day?&amp;nbsp; I work hard too.&amp;nbsp; What distinguishes his needs from mines because we surely split the bills.&amp;nbsp; Until he's paying the majority of our expenses you can miss me with that.&amp;nbsp; I think men need some stuff added to their repertoire.&amp;nbsp; Push some of these damn brats out or learn to bake cakes.&amp;nbsp; There has to be some kind of trade off.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;We're the new and improved model woman, but our counterpart still carries a club and wears an animal-skin toga.&amp;nbsp; Yall need to step up before we start fucking robots just to feel equal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-6859494485098685931?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/aHMdTPWzuYs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/aHMdTPWzuYs/new-improved-model.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXFJsgz1b00/TrRKpZ5_Q9I/AAAAAAAAAos/IrAXuKKaozE/s72-c/4283-NEW-And-Improved-Blank-Can-Of-Clip-Art.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2011/11/new-improved-model.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-1657605260940761323</guid><pubDate>Thu, 03 Nov 2011 15:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-11-03T12:00:31.726-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Boosie Said It</category><title>If You Ain't On Sit Down</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3uGV0G2puWQ/TrKkMTqIj5I/AAAAAAAAAok/wuL_ilCqyFo/s1600/t-shirt_unequal-front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3uGV0G2puWQ/TrKkMTqIj5I/AAAAAAAAAok/wuL_ilCqyFo/s320/t-shirt_unequal-front.jpg" width="287" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The other day my life partner and I...okay. I'm lying.&amp;nbsp; I don't have a life partner.&amp;nbsp; I'm not even gay, but I couldn't figure out a way to start this post.&amp;nbsp; What better way than to make myself seem like a bitter black lesbian?&amp;nbsp; That's what men will call me after they finish reading this anyway so why not?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyhow, I was talking to a friend the other day and the topic of inequality came up.&amp;nbsp; Who knew all those years that Dr. King was fighting for justice for the wrong group of people?&amp;nbsp; He should've been seeking justice for black women! Yeah I said it! Black women!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It seems to me, and apparently many other women, that we are held to a very unfair standard.&amp;nbsp; Black men are always telling us how we should have our own house...bad...and our own car...bad...two jobs, work hard &amp;amp; be bad broads...bad. (Yes, I did just use a Lil Webbie quote for the 2nd time...sue me.)&amp;nbsp; However, the same man giving us advice on how to be desirable is usually sharing a one-bedroom apartment and renting a car bi-weekly.&amp;nbsp; Despite the inequality, we'll still date this man.&amp;nbsp; Why?&amp;nbsp; Because he's nice and we're always willing to give a nice man with a good personality a chance.&amp;nbsp; I don't see a serious problem with this except for the fact that if the tables were turned, he wouldn't have the same mercy on us as we would him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Here's an example.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Man &amp;amp; woman exchange pleasantries over the phone...names...ages...tastes in music.&amp;nbsp; Now the conversation starts to dig a littler deeper.&amp;nbsp; Let's watch.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Woman: So do you have any children?&lt;br /&gt;
Man: Yes, I have 3.&lt;br /&gt;
Woman: Awwww...how old are they?&lt;br /&gt;
Man: one, one &amp;amp; a half, and 3 months. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now let's watch this same conversation with the roles reversed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Man: So do you have any children?&lt;br /&gt;
Woman: Yes, I have 3.&lt;br /&gt;
::dialtone:: &lt;br /&gt;
Woman:&amp;nbsp; Hello?&amp;nbsp; Hello?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At this point in the blog we're all laughing, but it really isn't funny.&amp;nbsp; Black women are plastered all over the media for being snobs.&amp;nbsp; They say we're unmarried&amp;nbsp; because of our religion, we expect too much from men, we're over-educated and over-qualified to be wives.&amp;nbsp; I say the real reason is because our men don't have to perform to the same standard that is expected of us.&amp;nbsp; They're loved and accepted with 3 children, no job and erectile dysfunction.&amp;nbsp; Yet, they still think they're too good to marry us!&amp;nbsp; How many women do you know that have it going on - great education, great career, attractive - but has a deadbeat boyfriend?&amp;nbsp; MANY!&amp;nbsp; Now how many men do you know in the same situation?&amp;nbsp; ::crickets::&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Alls I'm saying is let's be fair here.&amp;nbsp; Give us our credit.&amp;nbsp; We love you unconditionally for the most part.&amp;nbsp; Please stop tearing us down all over every social network and media outlet known to man.&amp;nbsp; The next time you fix your lips to talk about how much your woman nags...which will be covered in the next blog...remember that 6th toe on your left foot that she clips for you without complaint.&amp;nbsp; Remember that we accept a lot from you, and that a few stretch marks or a crooked tooth here and there should be forgiven considering your own flaws.&amp;nbsp; Let's face it, you're no Hill Harper, but we give you the benefit of the doubt anyway.&amp;nbsp; Repay the favor.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-1657605260940761323?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/ZtSnl2GZb68" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/ZtSnl2GZb68/if-you-aint-on-sit-down.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3uGV0G2puWQ/TrKkMTqIj5I/AAAAAAAAAok/wuL_ilCqyFo/s72-c/t-shirt_unequal-front.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2011/11/if-you-aint-on-sit-down.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-1699035564410957354</guid><pubDate>Tue, 27 Sep 2011 15:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-09-27T13:57:23.076-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">This is harder than I thought</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Oh...A Bitch Can Get Deep</category><title>Let Me Learn You Something</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NnBJ6tSRB14/ToHkKgdaPLI/AAAAAAAAAoU/ddKKP1wnCXs/s1600/GrowUp.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NnBJ6tSRB14/ToHkKgdaPLI/AAAAAAAAAoU/ddKKP1wnCXs/s320/GrowUp.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;The joke that is my life has played yet another trick on me this year.&amp;nbsp; I won't go into details about the trick because, frankly, it'll just make me mad all over again and someone will probably get fucked up over it.&amp;nbsp; What I will say is that I've learned a few lessons this year.&amp;nbsp; Okay, perhaps they're not lessons.&amp;nbsp; They're more like observations.&amp;nbsp; Nevertheless they've only made my life more complicated. I'd like to share these obserlessons with you.&amp;nbsp; Please take heed and learn from my mistakes.&amp;nbsp; I know I'm talking to a brick wall, but at least there will be something new on this blog.&amp;nbsp; I think we can all agree that this well is dry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Anyhow...here are some life-lessons from a loser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;-&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Everyone who has never done it will try to tell you how to do it.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;Don't' be fooled!&amp;nbsp; If your friends are in really fucked up relationships, never had any lasting friendships or can't even keep a job; please don't ask them for advice.&amp;nbsp; You're only facilitating your own demise.&amp;nbsp; I know it makes too much sense, but if you need advice on something, get it from someone who actually has some experience with whatever it is you need advice on.&amp;nbsp; Would you ask a homeless man for career or real estate advice?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;-Mind your own damn business&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;.&amp;nbsp; I know it's hard.&amp;nbsp; You're driving down the street and you see a horrific accident.&amp;nbsp; You just have to look, then POW!...You run into the car in front of you.&amp;nbsp; The police come over to help, run your tags, realize they're suspended and now you're being carted off to jail...all because you didn't mind your own damn business.&amp;nbsp; This is not unlike life.&amp;nbsp; If your friends have issues, be a friend.&amp;nbsp; Listen to them vent, get them drunk, watch them cry; but stay the hell out of it.&amp;nbsp; A relationship is between two people...not 4...not 8.&amp;nbsp; Once other people are added to the midst of your issues everyone involved becomes a part of the issue.&amp;nbsp; If I'm apart of this group this means that all cars involved are getting vandalized...all asses whupped...and a whole lot of personal information is going to be divulged via social networks.&amp;nbsp; See how quickly a small issue between two people can get out of hand just that quickly?&amp;nbsp; Not to mention, you've dragged your friends into your mess only to eventually work it out with your partner.&amp;nbsp; Now what?&amp;nbsp; Now your friends and your partner hate one another and your life is more miserable than it was to begin with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;-You know who... needs to know who is who.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;Sounds easy right?&amp;nbsp; Okay...it sounds complicated, but it's really easy. &amp;nbsp; I think that most of us can say that we know our parents are our parents, our lovers our lovers, and our friends our friends.&amp;nbsp; However, knowing who they are is ineffective if &lt;i&gt;they &lt;/i&gt;don't know who they are.&amp;nbsp; Not only do you need to know who is who, but you need to let them know who they are too.&amp;nbsp; When a friend oversteps their boundaries with a lover or a parent, put your foot down the 1st time and let them know it won't be tolerated.&amp;nbsp; I guarantee you that you will only have to do this once and you will not lose your friend over it.&amp;nbsp; However, if you fail to do this, you'll have much bigger problems in the long-run.&amp;nbsp; Not only will you possibly lose your lover, but you'll lose your friend too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;-Men...be men&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;.&amp;nbsp; I know you all like to say you're men; and we truly want to believe that.&amp;nbsp; But quite often you exhibit characteristics that contradict that.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Don't let anyone do something to you that they wouldn't  let you do to them.&amp;nbsp; If they wouldn't let you disrespect a loved one of  theirs, don't let them disrespect a loved one of yours.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Men stand up for the people they love, men protect those that need protecting, men don't let other people fight their battles, men don't try to fight the battles of others, and most importantly, men don't have to try to be men...they just are.&amp;nbsp; If you realize that you're being less than noble, acknowledge it and fix it.&amp;nbsp; Don't try to justify it or sweep it under the rug.&amp;nbsp; That's how things never get fixed.&amp;nbsp; Know your flaws and work on them.&amp;nbsp; Be you...don't try to fit in.&amp;nbsp; The most revered people are those who know who they are and try to be nothing other than that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;-Women...be women.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;Grow up, stop being catty, mind your fucking business...and for goodness sake cook something.&amp;nbsp; We have a tendency to spend so much time worrying about other people's lives that we don't even realize how messed up our own lives are.&amp;nbsp; Or perhaps we spend so much time in the lives of others because we know just how jacked up ours is.&amp;nbsp; Either way, it's only a temporary fix.&amp;nbsp; Meddling in mine isn't going to fix yours.&amp;nbsp; At the end of the day you still have to go back to that cold cold home.&amp;nbsp; It's just like getting high...it's only a temporary distraction.&amp;nbsp; It will wear off.&amp;nbsp; Then you'll spend your life chasing the next meddle to distract you from your own issues.&amp;nbsp; Stop being a junky and get your shit together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;-If you're a real friend...call a nigga out!&amp;nbsp; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;When your friends are wrong let them know!&amp;nbsp; Nothing is worse than a group of enablers who are equal parts enabler and enablee. &amp;nbsp; Okay, I made up the word enablee...but you get the point.&amp;nbsp; The reason so many of us are damaged beyond repair is because nobody ever called us out when the damage was fixable.&amp;nbsp; If nobody ever tells you you're wrong, you never know what you need to fix.&amp;nbsp; It's like noticing a big nasty booger in my nose but not telling me it's there.&amp;nbsp; You just gonna let me walk around thinking I'm cute with that crap hanging from my nose? Now everyone is looking at me thinking "Smh...she ain't got no real friends."&amp;nbsp; What kind of friend are you??? Why the fuck can't you let me be great?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; font-size: small;"&gt;...I have more to share, but frankly I'm tired of typing.&amp;nbsp; So I'll end it with that.&amp;nbsp; If you have anything to add feel free to do so in the comment section.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; font-size: small;"&gt;Don't be reckless in my comment section either...I will embarrass you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-1699035564410957354?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/Lzak8KdgyfE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/Lzak8KdgyfE/let-me-learn-you-something.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NnBJ6tSRB14/ToHkKgdaPLI/AAAAAAAAAoU/ddKKP1wnCXs/s72-c/GrowUp.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2011/09/let-me-learn-you-something.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-6529382399917844758</guid><pubDate>Sun, 07 Aug 2011 18:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-07T14:39:23.926-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">How To Never Get A Guy...But Still Try</category><title>I Guess I'll See You Next Lifetime...Or Next Friday.</title><description>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;I wonder if Erykah Badu knew how much I would grow to hate that term when she made the song "Next Lifetime". &amp;nbsp;That phrase, along with Drake's "Marvin's Room", makes my blood boil like none other. &amp;nbsp; Songs like those are true examples of the sad state of the human relationship. &amp;nbsp;When did we get to the point where we have lost all respect for our relationships, and the&amp;nbsp;relationships&amp;nbsp;of others? &amp;nbsp;If you're going to be a selfish bitch, own up to it. &amp;nbsp;Don't use terms like "I guess I'll see you next lifetime" to show your interest in something you know you shouldn't be showing interest in, while trying to&amp;nbsp;denounce&amp;nbsp;your own guilt at the same time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;If you're in a situation where next lifetime will be the only&amp;nbsp;suitable&amp;nbsp;time to see a person, then keep the shit to yourself. &amp;nbsp;Throwing out things like that only sets what you claim shouldn't happen into &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;motion. &amp;nbsp;It only tells me that&amp;nbsp;although&amp;nbsp;you really want to be with me, you can't because you're in a relationship with someone else. &amp;nbsp;Well what is your reason for telling me then? &amp;nbsp;What satisfaction do you get out of it? &amp;nbsp;What does it do but make everything uncomfortable and complicated? &amp;nbsp;Grow the hell up and stop screwing up other people's lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Oh, and Drake. &amp;nbsp;If you're reading this, get your drunk ass off the pone and stop drunk dialing people. &amp;nbsp;Who are you to say someone can do better? &amp;nbsp;What the hell are you worried about it for? You didn't care when you were with her. &amp;nbsp;Have some damn respect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Ex's are ex's for a reason. &amp;nbsp;Let us not forget why you didn't work out. &amp;nbsp;Why screw up a potential successful relationship to dabble in one has already been proven to not work? &amp;nbsp;You people must be idiots.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Here's some Drake for you...He threw a party..yeah he threw a party.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/nwyjxsOYnys" width="640"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-6529382399917844758?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/iQuoo56-KpE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/iQuoo56-KpE/i-guess-ill-see-you-next-lifetimeor.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/nwyjxsOYnys/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-guess-ill-see-you-next-lifetimeor.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-1762449294344039905</guid><pubDate>Sun, 03 Jul 2011 18:22:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-03T14:38:43.593-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">James Brown Y'all</category><title>Certain Restrictions &amp; Limitations Apply</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4UjdPlEDRuE/ThCza3_qdgI/AAAAAAAAAmE/KT0w1L1_KJY/s1600/Jill-Scott.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="302" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4UjdPlEDRuE/ThCza3_qdgI/AAAAAAAAAmE/KT0w1L1_KJY/s320/Jill-Scott.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;I come&amp;nbsp;across&amp;nbsp;a fair share of hypocrites in my day to day, but none disturbs me more than the young conscience black. &amp;nbsp;You know them. They preach to you all day on Twitter and Facebook; telling you that they only want for their people to be free. The more and more you listen to them talk, the more you realize that their idea of freedom comes with certain restrictions and limitations. &amp;nbsp;Way to hide the fine print. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;It never seizes to amaze me that these same conscience people consider you to be free...if you adhere to their understandings and beliefs. &amp;nbsp;So yes...by all means be free black people; as long as you don't have relaxed hair, or wear perfume, or subscribe to any form of organized religion, or support major corporations, or dress too worldly, or listen to any genre of music other than neo-soul...and Goodness forbid...please don't waste your money on any form of entertainment other than independent films with subtitles and/or documentaries.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;So yeah...be free. &amp;nbsp;I wonder if they realize that they are everything they&amp;nbsp;reprimand&amp;nbsp;me for being. &amp;nbsp;You tell me not to relax my hair because chemicals that close to my brain can't be healthy...yet you smoke weed every day. &amp;nbsp;You tell me that I spend too much money to conform to the white man's standard of beauty...yet "natural" hair products cost double the price of what I pay. &amp;nbsp;You tell me not to eat pork because it's bad for my body...yet, again, you smoke weed for breakfast, lunch &amp;amp; dinner. &amp;nbsp;You frown upon any form of&amp;nbsp;religion. &amp;nbsp;GOD forbid we believe in anything; it's all about self-thinking right? &amp;nbsp;However, it's okay for you guys to worship "mother earth" and form your congregations centered around like-minded&amp;nbsp;beliefs&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;I don't get it. How can a group of people who claim to promote freedom for our people put so many unspoken restrictions on what we're free to do? &amp;nbsp;Why so&amp;nbsp;judgmental? Why does my decision to wear my hair straight make me any less productive than you? &amp;nbsp;True revolutionist recognize that their decision to be who they want is precious and that every person should have the same freedom to decide; even if those decisions aren't in tune with their own. &amp;nbsp;I wonder how they're going to feel when they realize that they're going out of their way to be different but ending up looking just like every other "modern-day revolutionary" who's&amp;nbsp;attempting&amp;nbsp;to do the same. &amp;nbsp;It's going to sting a little bit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-1762449294344039905?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/zpN2JWEoxKk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/zpN2JWEoxKk/certain-restrictions-limitations-apply.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4UjdPlEDRuE/ThCza3_qdgI/AAAAAAAAAmE/KT0w1L1_KJY/s72-c/Jill-Scott.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2011/07/certain-restrictions-limitations-apply.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-220336396133742136</guid><pubDate>Wed, 12 Jan 2011 19:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-01-12T16:37:04.398-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Drink Specials</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Further Proof That Men Are Pigs</category><title>Drink Specials: Letters From A Pig</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TS4KPJsGEFI/AAAAAAAAAkU/lm3qnzrZmyU/s1600/Pig.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 197px; height: 256px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TS4KPJsGEFI/AAAAAAAAAkU/lm3qnzrZmyU/s400/Pig.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561393845264322642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Dear readers...because we're too lazy to write for ourselves we've decided to bring you some feature writers that are in tune with our drunken brand of randomness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Please remember that the views expressed in the following entry are not necessarily the views of CocktailOur or any other sensible human being alive. With that said, enjoy this further proof that men are pigs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;Is Polygamy Really So Wrong?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Okay ladies, before you judge me by my title, hear me out. First off I should note that I am in a committed relationship. And while I’m not necessarily pro-polygamist, I’m also not anti-polygamist. I, like a lot of men I know, struggle with monogamous relationships. I love my girlfriend, I really do. And common logic says that if I truly love her, then I should have no struggle with monogamy and I shouldn’t “cheat” on my girlfriend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Author’s note: When I say “cheat”, I am speaking of flirting and occasionally making passes at other woman. I have never once actually engaged in any sexual acts while in my relationship. I felt like this was important for me to point out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;I don’t believe that it’s that simple however. Let’s start with the facts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Now, after the last time I almost ruined my relationship with one of my stupid “cheating” incidents I began to think, what the hell is wrong with me? I truly couldn’t figure this out. When my girlfriend asked me why I did it, I didn’t even have an intelligent response to give her. Let me be the first to tell you that she’s the bomb.com (Yes I do realize how corny that was). She constantly looks out for me. She cooks for me, cleans my room without me even asking, tolerates my borderline alcoholism, her hair always looks nice, she’s just as smart as she is beautiful (one class away from a M.S. degree), and most importantly, she truly loves me unconditionally. So I came across the idea that it can’t just be me. Of course I’m right because plenty of men cheat, even married men.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Now let us not forget that many people around the world, especially in Muslim and Hindu cultures practice polygamy. Ignoring that fact however, I wanted to dig deeper, so I began to wonder if there are any mammals that are monogamous. The answer I came across was, pretty much no mammals are monogamous. An editorial by Stefan Anitei quotes “Monogamy is so rare in the animal world that only 3-5% of the mammals are known to form lifelong pair bonds.” He goes on to name beavers, otters, jackals, foxes, bats, dwarf deer and antelopes as some of the exceptions. However, even among these lifelong pairs, they occasionally have a “fling” on the side. Now to give you some perspective, I Googled “How many mammals exist on Earth?” Now, while I’m not oblivious to the fact that anyone can write anything on Google, I think we can agree I can get a fairly accurate answer to this particular question. The answer I came up with is between 4,500 and 5,000 different species of mammals are on earth. Doing some quick math, 5% of 5,000 is 250 different species that may potentially have a form of a monogamous relationship, and that’s highballing it. Now while 250 certainly cannot be ignored, you have to admit this number is pretty small compared to the total number of mammals. This leads to the factual conclusion that the overwhelming trend of most male mammals on earth is to go forth and spread your seed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Now we get to the fun part of this blog, the part with OPINIONS! I can’t think of anything that gets another person more riled up at me than an opinion that they completely, 180 degree, disagree with me. See, facts are facts. If you don’t like the fact that only 3 to 5% of mammals are monogamous, well that’s tough go play in traffic or get over it. Most people can cope with facts as long as they know it’s a fact. But if I walk in a room and call Tyler Perry a sambo, 90% of the room is ready to kick my ass. I bet 90% of the relatively smart, black, young women who read that last sentence wish they could reach through the computer and strangle me. Why? Because my opinion riled them up. Truth is, I really don’t like Tyler Perry and I’ll explain in another blog. Anyway, I don’t want you guys to want to kick my ass while reading the rest of this blog, so let’s take a break from the main subject and crack a smile as I list my top 3 favorite celebrity/public official opinions that got people riled up over the ages:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;3 – “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” – Kanye West&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;2 – “Nappy-headed hoes” – Don Imus talking about the Rutgers women’s basketball team&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;1 – “…they are who we thought they were! And we let ‘em off the hook!” – Dennis Green after losing to the Chicago Bears&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Now back to the opinions. I don’t think if a man cheats on his girlfriend/wife/significant other that it necessarily means that he doesn’t love her. Is it possible that men just have an inner beast that craves “new pussy?” My inner circle calls this the inner goblin. How about women? Why do women cheat? Women cheat because their current man made them feel insecure or insignificant, or because another man is rich and/or famous (the gold-digger), or maybe because they truly fell in love with another man. Men may or may not cheat for all of the same reasons. But an additional reason a man may cheat is simply the inner goblin, the want for new pussy and conquest. A man can sleep with a woman and have absolutely no emotional connections. I don’t think that’s possible for a woman. Even the woman who randomly sleeps with multiple men in the same night has logical reasons for doing so. It could be a prostitute, in which case she is doing it for money, or it could be the common whore, in which case she is usually looking for something such as attention or someone who cares.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Anyway, the point is that humans do share something in common with over 95% of other mammals, and that is the practice of polygamy. Now whether you are for or against it, you must admit the question of whether or not polygamy is so wrong is something that deserves greater thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;-OINK&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-220336396133742136?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/VCN_jtrfask" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/VCN_jtrfask/drink-specials-letters-from-pig.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TS4KPJsGEFI/AAAAAAAAAkU/lm3qnzrZmyU/s72-c/Pig.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2011/01/drink-specials-letters-from-pig.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-1357600499491648519</guid><pubDate>Fri, 17 Dec 2010 13:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-12-17T09:56:04.001-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">That Was Random</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Random As Hell</category><title>Just Because You Can...Doesn't Mean You Should</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TQtzrnqhRKI/AAAAAAAAAkI/yCxEbZ7Jk2A/s1600/Confessional.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 362px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TQtzrnqhRKI/AAAAAAAAAkI/yCxEbZ7Jk2A/s400/Confessional.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551658158883161250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I'm back... and I'm here to make a confession.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Every morning I cry in the shower.  This post totally defeats the purpose of why I cry in the shower, but it will help me transition to my next paragraph.  I cry every morning in the shower for two reasons: 1.  So that my son doesn't hear me crying.  2.  So that nobody else knows that I cry.  It seems to help me get out my frustrations about everything going wrong in my life.  It also offers me a great opportunity to pray and try to think of ways to make these things better.  This morning, before the tears came, I was thinking about the post I wrote yesterday.  I wrote it for my cousin.  I wanted to let her know that, although it may feel therapeutic and catch the attention of whomever, posting all of her rages may bring more trouble than it's worth.  When I told her that I was going to blog about her she sent me this message...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;"well make sure u write about me messin wit a older man that act younger then me.... my son father having a baby next month.... my son turnin 2 next month.... and gettin this paper so i dont loose my job come 2mar"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;So that is exactly what I'm going to do.  Every time she goes on her Facebook rants I kind of roll my eyes and try to ignore them.  Yesterday it got to the point where I had to comment and tell her that I was muting her so that I wouldn't have to see it.  This morning it hit me that how she releases her stress is her decision.  Who am I to tell her not to?  I could just as easily ignore it.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;What I can't ignore is the fact that I am almost always on the verge of asking her why she let's these men do these things to her.  There is this saying that goes "a man will only do to you what you will allow."  I think that's a pretty stupid saying.  Why are we so quick to put the blame on a woman?  It's just okay for men to do things because they can get away with them?  We give them a way out for every thing they do.  Just because you can get away with something doesn't mean you should do it.  I can take candy from children all day...does that mean that I should?  Why don't men start taking responsibility for their actions?  Be a man and stop taking advantage of women simply because you can.  There is nothing manly about it, especially when love is involved.  I think that love is a sickness.  It renders you enable to make proper decisions, to know how sick in love you are, and to cure yourself of the illness.  Love has taken many lives.  The way we wage war against Cancer and AIDS should apply to love also.  I think that the love disease is only non-threatening when both people are sick.  Not only do both parties have to be sick, but they have to have the same level of illness.  If any party is sicker than the other, he/she instantly becomes the life at risk of being taken advantage of. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;So to Antwan Clark...I think you're a fucking asshole.  You need to grow up and be a man.  How dare you treat my cousin that way because she's stupid enough to love you?  Her illness had her there for you through the roughest of times.  I wish her heart was harder.  She should've left you with nowhere to live or in that hospital bed ALONE...where you belong.  How dare you continue to make babies when you don't take care of the beautiful one that you have?  I hope that he grows up to despise you as much as I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;And whoever the old ass pig that she's currently dating...grow the fuck up or date someone your own age.  This young girl works really hard to support her and that baby.  Granted, she's not the brightest bulb in the box; but she means really well.  You "men" should be ashamed of yourselves.  Stop preying on these women because you can.  I wonder what this world would be like if the tables were turned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I wish I could tell you that life gets easier, but it doesn't.  The older you get, the more annoyed you will become with people in general.  Men don't get better.  The older they get, the dumber they get; and the madder you will become at them for being so old and stupid.  You may even some day feel like you don't want to go on.  Unfortunately, I can't tell you that there is anything to look forward to.  But I wish you the best.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Editor's note:  So what the blog is long and random.  You read it to the end so shut the hell up.  I'm in a terrible terrible mood.  If you have something to say about anything I've ever said or done then do it today.  Now is the PERFECT time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-1357600499491648519?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/UEMIwHczDac" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/UEMIwHczDac/im-back.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TQtzrnqhRKI/AAAAAAAAAkI/yCxEbZ7Jk2A/s72-c/Confessional.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/12/im-back.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-9200476466369542094</guid><pubDate>Thu, 16 Dec 2010 21:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-12-16T16:54:26.629-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">How To Never Get A Guy...But Still Try</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Friends Family and Boys</category><title>Facebook Is Not Your Friend...</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TQqKOpuxpsI/AAAAAAAAAkA/ywR6M0w1has/s1600/do-you-have-facebook.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TQqKOpuxpsI/AAAAAAAAAkA/ywR6M0w1has/s400/do-you-have-facebook.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551401475012404930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Hello fine people!  I know it's been a while but I'm back!  Don't get excited though.  I'm only here to issue some tough love; then I'm gone 'till November again.  So grab what you can in the short moments that I'm here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I'm writing this blog to let YOU know that Facebook isn't' your friend; it's merely laughing at you.  It is my firm belief that Facebook was created to embarrass and humiliate us all for the purpose of advertising dollars.  Facebook seems to think its funny that Jane Doe's status is "in a relationship with John Doe", all the while John is sending Shaquisha Doeington messages asking if he can come over.  It's really cruel.  Shaquisha has a quick laugh at Jane's expense all because of the Facebook...and that insecure, two-faced John Doe.  Makes me kind of happy that he usually ends up dead on a slab with no one to claim him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Facebook knows that you're an attention whore and you post photos of yourself all day saying "do you like my haircut?", "do you like my new shoes?",  "do you like my pussy?".  I know that last one was a bit harsh, but that's how it reads to us.  Get your self-esteem under control and stop fishing for compliments from Facebook losers.  They only want to fuck you.   Put your tits away and look for the good in yourself.  If you rely on your Facebook friends to build your esteem you're in for a rude awakening.  You'll only end up with a swollen vagina and more friend requests.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Facebook likes for you to think that it's okay to go on mini-rants cluttering your "friend's" news feeds with random one-line boasts of empowerment.  You think that Facebook doesn't know that you'll be back next week with "How did you get here? Nobody's 'sposed to be here" updates? Then back the week after that, yet again, with an "I've tried that love thing for the last time" status message?  I know that sometimes you need to get it out.  If you must do so, go hard in the paint! Create a very long one saying everything thats on your mind.  Don't forget to point fingers and name names.  Call them out!  Why half-step it? If you're going to do it, do it all the way!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Yes! Facebook is a know-it-all.  It knows.  It knows all too well.  Facebook has made us all life meteorologists where we can now predict your love weather, money droughts and family storms.  If you're going to broadcast your life all over Facebook, do it like the battered white women and only show the good. Stop the un-punctuated crazy lady rants.  They don't help anyone.  Trust me...I'm not judging anyone.  This post is just as much for me as it is for you.  I've been guilty of the Facebook shame...but never again!  Let's do this together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Don't give Facebook the satisfaction.  Keep it to yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;-And yes I quoted Wacka Flocka in this post! What's it to ya?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-9200476466369542094?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/pn0ZTdgAPy8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/pn0ZTdgAPy8/facebook-is-not-your-friend.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TQqKOpuxpsI/AAAAAAAAAkA/ywR6M0w1has/s72-c/do-you-have-facebook.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/12/facebook-is-not-your-friend.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-130093454188886759</guid><pubDate>Mon, 18 Oct 2010 21:17:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-10-19T08:34:22.969-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">How To Never Get A Guy...But Still Try</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Thanks...I'm Starved</category><title>Back Pocket Option</title><description>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3EMV58CR_cg/TLy6b42ecoI/AAAAAAAAAHE/l_8gJQssFc4/s1600/Italian_Chef_2.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 227px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 302px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529499430784234114" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3EMV58CR_cg/TLy6b42ecoI/AAAAAAAAAHE/l_8gJQssFc4/s400/Italian_Chef_2.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3EMV58CR_cg/TLy5qWI3-YI/AAAAAAAAAG8/G6Y3qof0EfM/s1600/Italian_Chef_2.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Man meets lady. Lady is well accomplished, beautiful, smart, charming. Man and lady date. Man revels in lady's womanhood and unmatched ability to bring a sense of peace and calm into his life. Man is unable to uphold the bond or commitment he made with lady. Lady moves on. Man calls twice a week to re-establish or maintain his place in lady's life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Lady becomes a back pocket option.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Not sure where I'm going? Think about when you first learned how to cook. Perhaps the first meal you mastered was spaghetti. It's hearty, delicious and paired with salad and bread can make for a pretty impressive display. One day someone introduces you to the fine art of steak. Steak leads to lamb, lamb leads to duck etc. . . etc. In your quest for variety you neglect spaghetti for a while. Until one day you remember just how hearty and dependable it was. Spaghetti never let you down. Hell if you were low on cash, spaghetti was there. If you wanted that 5 star gourmet restaurant experience, spaghetti could do that too. But somewhere in the midst of steak and lamb, spaghetti became as American as apple pie rather than the exotic Italian dish the makers of Ragu intended it to be. At that moment it dawns on a man. If he were ready to make a long-term commitment to one meal, spaghetti would be it. From that moment forth he includes spaghetti on his weekly grocery list in anticipation of the day he grows tired of pursuing its temporary replacement. He may never even make the damn meal, but he'll hold the ingredients in his pantry until their expiration date. Spaghetti has become to him what millions of good women are to men, a back pocket option. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;All My Back Pocket Ladies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;You're the woman he would like to settle down with after and only after, he has soiled is royal oats. So somehow between now and then he has to remain relevant and make sure you remain single. How many of your exes still call or want to spend time with you? Now how many of them call and want to re-establish commitment? Out of those who do, how many do you believe will be faithful or are actually ready? Face it, you're spaghetti in a world of steak and lamb. Now don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with spaghetti. Hell , based on this highly coveted food matrix I've just created, spaghetti is the Lena Horne of foods. The key is to date a man who is ready for spaghetti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;As a matter of fact, date one who ALREADY knows spaghetti is his favorite meal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;*Disclaimer** This article is in no way about spaghetti or meal variety.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-130093454188886759?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/dy_IGaZitNI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/dy_IGaZitNI/back-pocket-option.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (cocktailour)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3EMV58CR_cg/TLy6b42ecoI/AAAAAAAAAHE/l_8gJQssFc4/s72-c/Italian_Chef_2.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/10/back-pocket-option.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-6543653590595979668</guid><pubDate>Mon, 27 Sep 2010 19:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-09-27T16:24:53.424-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp</category><title>Watch My Shoes</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TKD9avI8yJI/AAAAAAAAAjw/51D1uJgoYzY/s1600/recover-deleted-text-message-iphone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 340px; height: 351px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TKD9avI8yJI/AAAAAAAAAjw/51D1uJgoYzY/s400/recover-deleted-text-message-iphone.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521691778928658578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;"Gutta why they started me? Marly why the started me? I'll bring it to your front door like ya ordered me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Did God write this lyric to keep me in check? I swear he did. You ever have a situation where you're possibly questioning what you know is a right decision? Then the universe says...awww hell no and brings you some crap from so far left-field that you have to just say..."Okay. I get it."   If not, I envy you. I swear it seems like the universe is connected to my life. It brings all kinds of signs and signals and drops them right in my lap. I can't even BS around with the argument that I just didn't know.  As soon as I even attempt...God sends a skank to my front door! To my front door! Just to remind me to stick to my head and not question my decisions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I feel like I'm in "The Yes Man." I'm waiting for an old decrepit white man to tell me it's all a crock.  I guess until then I should listen to the universe and stick to the things I know are right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-6543653590595979668?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/G7ihngZlwq8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/G7ihngZlwq8/watch-my-shoes.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TKD9avI8yJI/AAAAAAAAAjw/51D1uJgoYzY/s72-c/recover-deleted-text-message-iphone.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/09/watch-my-shoes.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-4446008576131458257</guid><pubDate>Thu, 23 Sep 2010 17:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-09-23T16:42:21.001-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Will Pussy Pop for Plays</category><title>You Caught The Jack...</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Seriously. I always forget how great Teedra Moses is until I revisit her again. I would like to know who is responsible for the demise of this lady's career? I want their heads on a platter! She's such an amazing artist. Her production and vocals are always on point. Okay, I get it...I know she's old, but come on America! Why don't we appreciate good music?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Teedra, if you're reading this (which I seriously doubt), may I recommend some pussy poppin'? It works for Beyonce...it may give you a 2nd wind also.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Anyhow....Hope this song reminds you of her greatness as much as it does for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="660" height="525"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RN8W8_eAxio?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RN8W8_eAxio?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="660" height="525"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-4446008576131458257?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/XNjGgcentTI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/XNjGgcentTI/you-caught-jack.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-caught-jack.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-9101930442964589353</guid><pubDate>Wed, 22 Sep 2010 02:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-09-21T22:41:48.606-04:00</atom:updated><title>Download the 1st EVER CocktailOur Podcast!!!</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;We at CocktailOur do one thing better than anything...we talk! That's right people. We're all talk with no follow-up over here. So download the 1st ever podcast! Listen to us do what we do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Don't forget to comment on the topics we discussed. I know the podcast is pretty long, but download it to your iPod or something and just listen to it in pieces. I promise you it's very entertaining! We'll try to keep them shorter in the future.  If we get enough feedback we will do a live Blogtalk Radio show where you can call in live with your input. Won't that be fun?!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Anyway...here is the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.zshare.net/download/80660548410cee5b/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;link&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;. Enjoy! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-9101930442964589353?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/M3T0MwXpHeA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/M3T0MwXpHeA/download-1st-ever-cocktailour-podcast.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/09/download-1st-ever-cocktailour-podcast.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-8243244422812974719</guid><pubDate>Tue, 21 Sep 2010 15:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-09-21T17:22:37.181-04:00</atom:updated><title>Chivalry Can Kiss My Ass...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TJjhSFql6nI/AAAAAAAAAjo/m2L2Zs1necE/s1600/Helmet+pen+cup+5+knight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 346px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TJjhSFql6nI/AAAAAAAAAjo/m2L2Zs1necE/s400/Helmet+pen+cup+5+knight.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519409044217260658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Twitter has brought many terrible things into my life. However, every once and a while it blesses me with the rare opportunity to think and reflect on an issue. Today that issue was Chivalry. There are many definitions for CHIVALRY, most of which pertain to medieval times and knighthood. For this post the most applicable definitions were as follows:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Chivalry:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;1.the combination of qualities expected of an ideal knight, espcourage, honour, justice, and a readiness to help the weak&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;2.courteous behaviour, esp towards women&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Most of us modern folk associate chivalry with the same common qualities.  A chivalrous man opens doors, gives you his jacket when you're cold and walks on the street side just in case a car jumps the curb.  Easy. Makes sense right? Of course it does. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;What I don't get is the big obsession with chivalry. Don't get me wrong, I love a sweet man who does chivalrous things for me. I'm a chivalrous woman, if there ever exists such a thing. However, I have a few issues with chivalry. My initial issue comes in when men want to blame woman for the extinction of chivalry. Whenever the idea that "chivalry is dead" is posed, there is always a man standing near ready to reply "women killed it."  The increase in women's independence, salary and overall opportunity is blamed for everything from the fall of the black family to, now, the fall of chivalry.  Here are some quotes from the Twitter conversation:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;"#chivalry is taken for weakness. Which leads to assholes... Which leads to ABWs which leads to more assholes.#ViciousCycle"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Again, men were only accessories, women pulled the trigger."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Always the woman's fault huh guys? When are mean going to take equal responsibility for the state of black male/female relationships? Always blame-shifting and finger pointing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Anyhow...that brings me into my 2nd...and most important issue. Nobody can "kill" something that is in your character. The real reason that chivalry is dead is because it was never alive! Men have been &lt;i&gt;pretending&lt;/i&gt; to be chivalrous. Chivalry is a vain characteristic. Many of the most chivalrous of Knights were also the ones responsible for ravaging, pillaging and raping towns into oblivion. Chivalry always have and MAY always will be a facade because it is a practiced characteristic for many. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;This is why chivalry can kiss my ass. I say...if its not in you...don't pretend to do it! I'm sure I'm not the only woman that would say, I'd rather open my own damn door if it means that I can have a unchivalrous man who at least is faithful and appreciative of me. Carrying my bags are all in vain if you're behaving anything less than valiant in every other aspect of our relationship. It doesn't impress me. You can't be a gentleman to us 40% of the time but cheat, abuse and take advantage of us the other 60%. It defeats the purpose of chivalry. Perhaps if we begin to work on ourselves and being genuinely good spouses, REAL chivalry will naturally follow. There will be no need to pretend. Maybe if women would learn to be real women, and men would learn to be satisfied and less greedy we would understand what true chivalry is. Honestly taking care of something becomes 2nd nature when you have a true value and appreciation for it. Can't fake it till you make it here buddy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;"Pretending to be noble is far more difficult than actually being noble."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-8243244422812974719?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/MclnWDGAPyo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/MclnWDGAPyo/chivalry-can-kiss-my-ass.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TJjhSFql6nI/AAAAAAAAAjo/m2L2Zs1necE/s72-c/Helmet+pen+cup+5+knight.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/09/chivalry-can-kiss-my-ass.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-3101739497248167315</guid><pubDate>Sat, 31 Jul 2010 11:04:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-07-31T07:52:35.408-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">This is harder than I thought</category><title>Bon Appetit!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TFQLwBsmJZI/AAAAAAAAAjI/vAQnlINU4zc/s1600/merylstreep_child.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TFQLwBsmJZI/AAAAAAAAAjI/vAQnlINU4zc/s400/merylstreep_child.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500033964643329426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Lately I've been going to bed early and waking up early.  My body has developed an internal clock that wakes me up every morning...even on weekends. What else is there to do at 6am on a Saturday morning but watch a good movie?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;"Julia &amp;amp; Julie". It's such a fantastic movie so far! Who knew that I would like that hunch-backed cuisinier so much? She's chic, witty and a bit crude. What a perfect combination, no?  The best quote from the movie...Julia Child actually said that the large pasta tubes she grabbed, barehanded from boiling water, were "hotter than a stiff cock"! Can you believe that? Old Julia Child said that! Lmao!!! Anyhow, this post isn't really about how great I've discovered Julia Child to be, it's about a dialogue that took place in the movie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;The setting is a quaint dining room. Seated at the table is a young woman named Julie (see the movie...I can't explain who she is because I'm still watching the movie and it'll require too much of my brain power. I'm not superwoman), her husband and her female friend. The three have just successfully poached an egg for the first time. Over what seems to be the most divine egg ever, the conversation moves to a mutual friend of the two ladies. After the discussion of the displayed sexual antics of their friend, Julie poses the question "Is it bad that I don't like my friends?" To which her friend replies "Oh no. That's perfectly normal."  No biggie right? Then the husband says the most profound thing, profound at least to me.  He says "Uh...men like their friends."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;LIGHTBULB! I don't know how many times I've ranted on and on to my poor sweet hunk of man meat about something that one of my friends did to piss me off. Almost every day at least one of my friends does something to ruin my life, or at least my mood for the moment.  I've tried to think back, but have been unsuccessful at coming up with one instance where I have ever heard a man complain about his friends. Jobs, women, money...yes. I've heard complaints from the penised ones about all of the above.  However, I can not recall ONE friend complaint. Whats even sadder? I can only think of one friend I have that has never made me mad. ONE friend! How awful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Is this true? Do men actually like their friends?  Can it be that simple?  Why do women love our friends so much...but never really like them at all?  Should we take a cue from men and get rid of all the "friends" we don't like to replace them with people we actually enjoy being around? I'm so confused. It seems the older I become, the more questions I develop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Random: I think I'm going to take up cooking &amp;amp; I've confirmed that I'm in love with Meryl Streep. Kind of creepy isn't it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-3101739497248167315?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/tRIT_N0m-RI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/tRIT_N0m-RI/bon-appetit.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TFQLwBsmJZI/AAAAAAAAAjI/vAQnlINU4zc/s72-c/merylstreep_child.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/07/bon-appetit.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-615420108835517978</guid><pubDate>Thu, 29 Jul 2010 14:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-07-29T11:17:54.375-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Random As Hell</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Thought of the Day</category><title>Where is the In Between?</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TFGbYxFJmhI/AAAAAAAAAjA/TAwwhRM4uyg/s1600/glamorous-life-swimwear.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 194px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TFGbYxFJmhI/AAAAAAAAAjA/TAwwhRM4uyg/s400/glamorous-life-swimwear.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499347469790190098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;In the past few days I've been running into the same conversation over and over. It seems as though all of my friends are at the a point where they're figuring out the direction they want their lives to take. Not surprising is the fact that every one of them have ridiculously high ambitions. Some very unrealistic. I know that we shouldn't put boundaries on ourselves...the sky is the limit...anything is possible blah, blah blah. However, I'm starting to feel like an outcast because I just don't see the hype.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Maybe there is something special about being a 20'something year old with little to medium responsibilities.  Maybe this stage of your life gives you the idea that anything is possible and you should conquer the little that is deemed impossible.  Is it strange, in the reign of Generation Y, that I seem to be the only person not focused on getting rich, being my own boss or making a name for myself?  It's not like I lack motivation. I'm very motivated to have a job that will allow me to pay my bills and not live paycheck to paycheck.  However, I don't have to live in a mansion or drive a Bentley. Hell, I don't even mind getting up and going to work everyday. Is there something wrong with me? It's not like my goal in life is to be on welfare. I just don't mind being in between. Is that a crime?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;When did it become okay to work like a slave to obtain material things that you'll never have time to enjoy because you're too busy working like a slave? Why aren't we interested in having a family and regular, old-fashioned fun anymore?  When did a woman, whose ambition is to be a housewife, become a lazy gold digger? Where did our obsession with extravagance, fame and money come from?  And how did we get to the point where someone who just wants to be happy and live a minimal, average, non-flashy life is the one with the problem?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I's confused :-&lt;/span&gt;(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-615420108835517978?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/GBxYe5HdmvY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/GBxYe5HdmvY/where-is-in-between.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TFGbYxFJmhI/AAAAAAAAAjA/TAwwhRM4uyg/s72-c/glamorous-life-swimwear.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/07/where-is-in-between.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-7423503142361655491</guid><pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2010 12:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-06-01T18:27:12.851-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">How To Never Get A Guy...But Still Try</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Friends Family and Boys</category><title>It JUST Happened!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TAUGfvj0Y5I/AAAAAAAAAi4/GjEGec2mK-s/s1600/Willpower541.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 186px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TAUGfvj0Y5I/AAAAAAAAAi4/GjEGec2mK-s/s400/Willpower541.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477791664178488210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Over the weekend I was presented with the question of whether or not flirting is cheating. I'll reserve my opinion on this for the time being. However, I posted the question on twitter to which I got the overall response of "No. Flirting is not cheating." I was content with this answer because we all have our reasons right? I never once thought about questioning or arguing someone's opinion until one of my male followers responded that "Shyt just be happening..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Does it now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;That response set off something in me that I didn't really know was there. I've been really nonchalant about relationships up until now.  Before I go on this rant I need you guys to keep in mind that I'm not a feminist so ladies please don't be mad at me for what I'm about to say...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;It is my belief that men were created superior to us in almost every way. They are stronger, faster, and more strong-willed. Studies show that men spend less money than women. In my personal interactions I even think that men work harder for things that they really want. When they want to lose weight, they're more successful at cutting their bad habits and they're constantly hitting the gym harder.   When they want to make a purchase they save money with ease...not even diverting for the loveliest pair of shoes.  I could never do such a thing!  With all the willpower that men possess, I don't understand how it's so easy for us all to surrender to the idea that "men can't help cheating".  It's BS. Men can be successful at doing anything that they want because they're equipped with the innate ability to do so.  I find it very hard to believe that the creatures who are so able-bodied in every other aspect of life, can involuntarily submit to such a stupid thing.  More importantly, with us being the inferior sex, why don't more women cheat seeing as though our will appears to be lower?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Maybe we should stop letting men lean on the crutch that "all men cheat" and that there is nothing they can do to fight it.  Contrary to my silly Twitter follower, "Shyt [doesn't] just be happening". You make shyt happen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;If you hadn't JUST sent her a DM telling her how pretty and smart she was, then...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;You wouldn't have JUST become facebook friends with her, then...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;You wouldn't have JUST begin communicating regularly, then...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;You wouldn't' have JUST agreed to hang out a few times, then...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;You wouldn't have JUST kissed that time, then...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;You wouldn't have JUST had sex a few times, then...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;You wouldn't have JUST been cheating on your girlfriend for 6 months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;But I guess I could see how he could think that "shyt just be happening".  I guess you just HAD to tell her how pretty and smart she was right? Who could resist doing that? Here is a thought. Maybe you shouldn't be sending messages to women telling them how pretty and smart they are when you're in a relationship.  Better yet...if you're not prepared to be in a committed relationship, don't enter into one. It's that easy!  Why try to keep a leash on someone when you don't intend to stay on your own?  Maybe its time for men to JUST grow the hell up and stop being so childish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-7423503142361655491?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/L50D3fav5Dg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/L50D3fav5Dg/it-just-happened.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/TAUGfvj0Y5I/AAAAAAAAAi4/GjEGec2mK-s/s72-c/Willpower541.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/06/it-just-happened.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-5860438940624948163</guid><pubDate>Wed, 14 Apr 2010 20:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-04-14T16:49:39.168-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Oh...A Bitch Can Get Deep</category><title>Who Cheers the Cheerer?</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S8YpsROPuYI/AAAAAAAAAiw/NRDtHl51yzk/s1600/cheerup.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S8YpsROPuYI/AAAAAAAAAiw/NRDtHl51yzk/s400/cheerup.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460097438747441538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Do you ever feel like you're the person who everyone goes to with their problems?  What a heavy load to bear. I love helping my friends...I really do; but what does one do when everyone relies on them for help?  Who is supposed to help me when I need it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Sometimes I feel down right crappy. I get mean, angry and sometimes even sad. I know that its normal because I deal with it from my friends and family on a regular basis. The craziest thing is that when my turn comes, nobody wants to deal with it. I always get "you're mean today...I'll talk to you tomorrow" or "I'm not feeling any positive vibes". Well so fucking what? I'm not happy all the damn time! Do I say those things when you dummies mope around me with your whining, complaining and depression? No, I don't. I deal with it. I make you laugh. I do what I think is necessary to make you feel better. So, tell me...why am I not afforded the same when its my turn to mope?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Who is the fixer supposed to turn to when she needs fixing?  Who cheers the cheerer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Selfish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-5860438940624948163?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/M0b3kcfBK8I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/M0b3kcfBK8I/who-cheers-cheerer.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S8YpsROPuYI/AAAAAAAAAiw/NRDtHl51yzk/s72-c/cheerup.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/04/who-cheers-cheerer.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-5071037408993366483</guid><pubDate>Tue, 30 Mar 2010 17:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-03-30T14:12:56.918-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Yikes and Eek</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Random As Hell</category><title>When The Tables Are Turned/I Call Bullshit</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S7I-kocvzWI/AAAAAAAAAh8/mRV_7inzv48/s1600/i_call_bullshit_hat-p148513187171443477q02g_400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S7I-kocvzWI/AAAAAAAAAh8/mRV_7inzv48/s400/i_call_bullshit_hat-p148513187171443477q02g_400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454490897753296226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Have you ever noticed that in relationships the prey eventually becomes the predator?  I will never understand how people who are normally cheated on, taken advantage of and or lied to get into new relationships where they aren't abused and in turn begin to cheat, take advantage and lie.  I would think that common sense would arm you with the ability to know how it felt when it was done to you, then allow yourself to not do it to anyone else.  I don't buy the bullshit excuse that those who are abused eventually become the abusers. Who you become is a choice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Am I the only person who is tired of grown adults using their past relationships as excuses to screw up their current ones?  New relationships are the ultimate 2nd chances. They are the quintessential do-overs.  If every relationship you have ends up the same, maybe you're the issue. If all of your ex's became "annoying"..well, maybe its you!  When will we spin the mirrors around and begin to look at ourselves as the source of our life's failures?  We have become way too easy on ourselves.  Maybe we should start calling one another on our bullslhit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Today, I challenge you to perform two tasks:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;1. Call yourself on at least one thing that you've been blaming on someone else.   It may be failed relationships, poor work ethics, bad credit...whatever. Just acknowledge it and accept responsibility for your actions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;2. Call a friend on their bullshit.  One of the most common reasons that we continue our reckless behavior in life is because we have family and friends who support it.  Sometimes all it takes is for someone to call you out for you to acknowledge your actions and fix them.  Do you have a friend who is ruining their life?  Call that bitch out!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Do it in the comments section...or not. But do it.  I'm gonna start first...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-5071037408993366483?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/Sgp5WdER-mE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/Sgp5WdER-mE/when-tables-are-turnedi-call-bullshit.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S7I-kocvzWI/AAAAAAAAAh8/mRV_7inzv48/s72-c/i_call_bullshit_hat-p148513187171443477q02g_400.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/03/when-tables-are-turnedi-call-bullshit.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-8122769678837904864</guid><pubDate>Thu, 18 Mar 2010 14:35:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-03-18T10:46:28.588-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">That Was Random</category><title>DO YOU MISS US?</title><description>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;We miss you too!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S6I8kPZXTYI/AAAAAAAAAh0/w_vUlLmDZ-Y/s1600-h/FREE-HUGS.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S6I8kPZXTYI/AAAAAAAAAh0/w_vUlLmDZ-Y/s400/FREE-HUGS.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449985092377595266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-8122769678837904864?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/V6u8i5SElks" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/V6u8i5SElks/do-you-miss-us.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S6I8kPZXTYI/AAAAAAAAAh0/w_vUlLmDZ-Y/s72-c/FREE-HUGS.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/03/do-you-miss-us.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-3159010857060279433</guid><pubDate>Fri, 19 Feb 2010 20:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-02-19T19:10:23.952-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Oh...A Bitch Can Get Deep</category><title>...And Other Dumb Shit That You Should Keep To Yourself</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S38OLBw5CZI/AAAAAAAAAho/cUdIIWFsLfM/s1600-h/quiet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S38OLBw5CZI/AAAAAAAAAho/cUdIIWFsLfM/s400/quiet.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440082457501698450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:georgia;font-size:medium;"&gt;Initially, we were going to make a video blog about this, but since we're procrastinators the idea never came into fruition.  I still feel that it's an important topic to discuss, so I'm going to take a stab at it.  This blog may be long...so please accept my apology in advance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Preface...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;A few weeks ago, on a Friday night, everyone in the Maryland vicinity was preparing for the blizzard of Oh'Ten.  We bombarded the markets, video stores and entertainment centers in preparation of being stuck indoors for a prolonged period of time.  Most people, if they were smart, chose to position themselves with people whom they could stomach throughout the blizzard.  My son, who is 11, was one of those people.  He decided that I wasn't a person whom he wanted to be stuck with for such a period of time. He and his cousins made the conscience decision that they'd much rather be stuck together than separately.  Food, video games &amp;amp; other kids...what more could a child need in a blizzard right?  At age 11, I guess I felt the same way, so permission granted.  His aunt came and whisked him away for a fun-filled snowed in week of x-box/play station bliss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;The Body...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Alone stands mommy :-( Although I looked forward to a week of DJ Hero asswhuppage upon a pre-teen, my plans were foiled and I was ready to go at it alone.  After only four hours into "project snowed home alone" I received a text... "You coming to get snowed in with me :-) ?" Did I think long before responding? Nope... Who would stay snowed in with a cat when they could be stuck with a snuggly, warm body? Not I. So I packed a week of clothing and called up a relative to drive me to my destination.  I was not about to shovel my car out at someone else's house then have to go home and shovel again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;You still with me?...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I get to my destination on Friday night only to find that more people would be stuck with me than originally anticipated.  In addition to my "friend" and his roommate were two of their other friends (one of which I already knew).  I was a little thrown aback, but I didn't dwell on it.  Better to be stuck in a storm with four people than with a cat right?  Off the jump we get to the fun.  A few games of spades...a little drinking, nothing serious.  Seemed like a good night.  No arguments...lots of shit talking...it's what we do.  The next two days...not much activity.  My friend and I watched a lot of TV/movies and kind of just hung around in his space for the most part.  I got thrown into 3 feet of snow (glad you all found it funny) and things were good. Then comes Monday.  By Monday, we were all about to go crazy from being in the house for such a long time. After three days of confinement we finally got out and begin to shovel the cars...to go anywhere! To the corner store...it didn't matter, we just needed to get out.  The roads were still horrendous and there was no way that we were making it too far, but we did manage to make it to Friday's.  Fine with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;::Enters Drama::...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Alcohol mixed with an idiot, prolonged exposure and insecurity is a recipe for disaster.  I'm still not completely sure about what happened but somehow my "friend's" friend decided he had enough of me and that "things would be better" if I weren't there.  So he proceeded to tell me that I should be somewhere with my "fucking son" instead of with someone who I happen to be dating.  I was a little thrown aback by his comments, as were everyone else, but I snapped back quickly and gave him my opinion on how his stupid ass should mind his own business. Initially I was really irritated that someone who has proven to me over the entire weekend that he is a complete idiot, could be so vocal about what he thought I should be doing as a parent Eventually, I got over that and moved on from it. A few words were exchanged and my mens &amp;amp; them were put on alert.  However, I went back to normal life snowed away because I didn't want to bring drama to my friend's home.  Once it was safe for me to make it to my own home, I did so and didn't revisit the situation again.  Very adult like, no?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;The Re-Visit...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Initially I wasn't going to blog about this topic. I told my friends, all of whom think that we should find him and cause some bodily harm, but other than that I attributed the situation to someone who didn't like me, attempting to strike a blow in any way he could.  How he felt about me was one of his many problems, and wasn't my issue.  Que Sara Sara, right?  Then, not even a week later a girlfriend of mine, who knew nothing of the experience I just explained, made almost identical comments about a woman that one of our male friends is dating.  It really hit me.  She obviously knew nothing about this woman, but felt compelled to comment on the fact that this woman should be "with her kid rather than spending the night with a man."  I totally don't blame my friend for making those comments about this woman. It is human nature to state your opinion on things.  We all sometimes unknowingly make unwarranted assumptions about the lives of others.  I get it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;But sadly, just like in my situation, she knew nothing about this woman.  She didn't know if this woman had shared custody with the other parent, she didn't know if this child goes away on the weekends, she really didn't know anything about the situation or where the child was.  &lt;i&gt;[Edit: The difference between my friend and this guy was that she shared her opinions on this girl confidentially amongst friends.  Thats the natural, human thing to do.  However, the idiot in my situation decided that it was okay that he bombard me with his silly opinions about my life.]&lt;/i&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I dont understand why people who don't have children, are the first to comment on what others should be doing with theirs. Why is it that single, childless people think that single parents don't deserve the opportunity to find love too?  Do you people expect us to wait until our children are 18 to begin dating again?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;It's very funny because I have a serious problem with bringing men around my child and to my house.  It's something that I just don't do.  I bet these same people would have a heart attack if they thought I had a man in my house with my child around.  So what is a parent to do? Spend time out occasionally, or let every Tom Dick &amp;amp; Harry come over? As long as you're home with your kid they could care less right?  Wrong!  If you have so much to say about what parents should be doing instead of spending time with a man/woman, please offer some valid suggestions.  While you're thinking of suggestions let me offer you this information.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I am a parent.  Considering that you have no children, its safe to say that I've been a parent way longer than you.  If I am somewhere for a month...don't question me.  You don't know my situation.  Even if you assume that my child isn't with his other parent please be assured that wherever he is, its somewhere safe with people who love him.  I am responsible enough to know if I can leave my kids for 2 or 20 days. You better believe that when he's not with me, he's in safe responsible hands.  In the end its my decision.  My child is well adjusted, bright and happy...and well aware of the love that his mother has for him.  As long as these characteristics remain, please know that I am doing my job.  If you have an opinion on how I, or any other parent you know, should raise our children. Do us a favor and have your own kids then apply those opinions to your situation.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Whether or no&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;t children are involved, maybe we should stop and think before we comment on the lives and decisions of others.  Chances are, we don't know what the hell we're talking about and our opinions are probably not requested or appreciated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;For lent, try giving up minding other's people business and focus on your own.  Your life is probably in shambles right now.  Get it together grouch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;(P.S...if you feel offended, I apologize, but I had to get it off of my chest.  Nothing at all personal towards you.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-3159010857060279433?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/w-0fcT-E8e4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/w-0fcT-E8e4/and-other-dumb-shit-that-you-should.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S38OLBw5CZI/AAAAAAAAAho/cUdIIWFsLfM/s72-c/quiet.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/02/and-other-dumb-shit-that-you-should.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-7990892471233186612</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Feb 2010 12:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-02-12T07:50:18.273-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">What Would Ja Rule Do?</category><title>My Vagina is a Black Panther</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S3VNDb2GMDI/AAAAAAAAAhg/K48nSaHN9_M/s1600-h/TEMP-Image_1_4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 279px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S3VNDb2GMDI/AAAAAAAAAhg/K48nSaHN9_M/s400/TEMP-Image_1_4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437336846529343538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I'm sure you guys have been exposed to Mayergate.  If you haven't read &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.playboy.com/articles/john-mayer-playboy-interview/index.html?page=2"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; then come back to continue this post.  For those of you who have read the article I am wondering your opinions on this.  Usually when someone makes some seemingly racist or offensive comments there is a general consensus that the comments were racist or offensive.  The strange thing about Mayergate is that everyone I've encountered has had a different opinion on whether his comments should've offended.  He said some awfully strange things in that article. Far before he made the "offensive" comments.  Why do we overlook the rest of the nonsense that he's said but zone in on the "black centered" comments?  Even more perplexing is the fact that the people who, in his eyes, enjoy living their lives to the fullest are the ones who do  the most complaining and nit-picking.  Us!  The mighty African-Americans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;My opinion? I live in the Family Guy age.  It's my firm belief that people have the right to feel and express themselves in any way that they please.  With that being said...my vagina is a Black Panther.  No matter how beautiful a white man is, I will never let one touch me in a sexual way.  I'm totally with JM.  What I don't understand is why preference is always equated with racism or hate.  Because a man says that he refuses to have sex with a black woman he's automatically labeled as a racist.  I don't get it. I know so many men who won't sleep with over-weight women. Does that make them fatist?  How about people who won't sleep with the elderly?  Are we oldist?  This is all too confusing.  Will there ever be a time when we can say what we feel or live our lives in a way (legally of course) that pleases us without being stoned for things that may be deemed politically incorrect?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I'm starting to wonder if I'm desensitized or if the rest of the world is underexposed.  I'm all about political incorrectness. I support it and promote it.  I have a theory about why Family Guy is so successful.  Its because they push the envelope. They do and say what they want.  If you're offended by it then you're the one with the problem because they obviously don't care.  The success of this show is a direct reflection that Americans want the same freedom.  We love what we crave.  We clearly crave the ability to be us.  Why is this so difficult?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sidenote: I can't believe that you guys are surprised that this guy made these comments.  Look at the things he's done.  Look at the photo! Lol...He's obviously not one for boundaries.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-7990892471233186612?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/XZ52wvW8Jls" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/XZ52wvW8Jls/my-vagina-is-black-panther.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S3VNDb2GMDI/AAAAAAAAAhg/K48nSaHN9_M/s72-c/TEMP-Image_1_4.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-vagina-is-black-panther.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-1271641170185550408</guid><pubDate>Fri, 05 Feb 2010 15:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-02-05T11:32:34.561-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">That Was Random</category><title>The Power of Peni (According to some dummy...that's Plural for Penis)</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S2xHfRrNDKI/AAAAAAAAAhY/9RBeI7lzitg/s1600-h/power-button.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 331px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S2xHfRrNDKI/AAAAAAAAAhY/9RBeI7lzitg/s400/power-button.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434797452975475874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Have you ever done some dumb crap that you know you had no business doing but couldn't figure out why?  CocktailOur has discovered that most of the dumb things done, by women, can be attributed to one thing, and one thing only...THE PEEN!  If you've done anything on this list, don't be ashamed.  It's not your fault.  Apparently you can't escape the Power of Peni.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;New Peen will make you...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Settle. As long as you can have the peen, who needs a relationship?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Drunk text. Well actually liquor makes you drunk text...but you're still texting peen!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Date a deadbeat dad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Cook...and you know I don't cook&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Feel like a woman. Have you dressing up for no reason like a dummy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Clean your house (just in case the peen pays a surprise visit)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Stock up your refrigerator with real food...fruits, vegetables &amp;amp; meats (you know...just to make you look good)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Prove that you can handle the peen. It got you going to Strip Aerobics classes &amp;amp; stuff.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Make you wear matching panties...make you wax more...hell, peen will keep you on your toes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Make you watch Sports Center...running down stats and ish.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Buy beer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;*Note, the following only applies to GOOD peen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Put your friends, plans and work on the back burner. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Do some shit you know you can't do (chandelier swinging...balling into a pretzel...licking your own butt)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Send naked photos of yourself to his cell phone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Bump random chicks in the club and stalk them on Facebook because you saw them say hi on his wall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;...Pretend you like his mother when you know you hate that hoe...good peen makes you bite your tongue. (Figuratively &amp;amp; Literally)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;What are we missing ladies? What has good peen made you do?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-1271641170185550408?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/WgUHISzb4PE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/WgUHISzb4PE/power-peni-according-to-some-dummythats.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S2xHfRrNDKI/AAAAAAAAAhY/9RBeI7lzitg/s72-c/power-button.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/02/power-peni-according-to-some-dummythats.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-7710464994072063391</guid><pubDate>Wed, 03 Feb 2010 17:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-02-03T22:58:46.073-05:00</atom:updated><title>Ustream-ing and I'm Thinking of You</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3EMV58CR_cg/S2nyV_HHErI/AAAAAAAAAEw/7oOg8b1GY7Q/s1600-h/screenshot3.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3EMV58CR_cg/S2nyV_HHErI/AAAAAAAAAEw/7oOg8b1GY7Q/s400/screenshot3.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434140884931646130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CKCouncil%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	color:blue;} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"If you're not with your significant other 5 days out of 7, you're sharing that individual with someone". I heard this today on ustream. The idea here is that we are all sharing our partner; most times without our knowledge. It is said that during the introductory period illusions replace truth. In keeping with this, small lies may be told. Especially when faced with big ticket questions like: are you seeing anyone else or are you ready for a relationship? The ustream host suggested most men lie about their dealings with other women. I suppose "I like you and you're the only one" sounds a lot better than "Oh seeing anyone else? Well (pause) you're about the fourth woman I took out this week." So, we (men and women) lie to acquire what we desire. *&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;From the male host's perspective, it is safe to believe the person you're interested in has other options. It is also wise to believe he’s putting those options to good use. Unfortunately, partly because we can't handle brutal honesty, men omit.** Since a plus one is really only attractive when responding to an invitation, most women will move along. True! Well sort of true. It honestly depends on what a woman is looking for and where she is in her life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;All this UStream-ing made me wonder. . .do women really want the truth? Sure we say we do. "If he's seeing someone else, I need to know." Then when we find out (catch a man cheating) we either: suppress or accept its presence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;So ladies if you met a man you were interested in. Went on a few dates, thought you two had something special and were anxious about the possibilities; would you stay around to be number 4?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Suppose one day over dinner you have the expectation talk. You know the one when he asks what you're looking for in a man and you run down your checklist. He listens intently, just the way a man should. Pauses for a second and replies:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"I am not the kind of dude you want right now. I'm dating other women and if you decide to kick it with me, you’re entering a contract. The contract outlines my unwillingness to settle down. Understand you're not the only one.  Someday when the smoke clears and the dust settles I’ll be ready. I'll be everything you're looking for and more! But right now I like you, but not just you"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Tell me, would you still date this man? Men, would you ever be that honest? Is it more important to hear what you want or what you need? I know a lot of women who would hear what this man is saying without truly listening. Some sort of way we’d morph this into a challenge. Only to be disappointed when we find out we couldn’t change his mind. I’m curious. In the end, how important is complete honesty?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;* Women generally don’t lie about how many men we’re seeing. We may however adjust our partner history to one that looks a bit more favorable. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;** They also omit because, well they’re men. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-7710464994072063391?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/2kb2yfXgKaA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/2kb2yfXgKaA/ustream-ing-and-im-thinking-of-you.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (cocktailour)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3EMV58CR_cg/S2nyV_HHErI/AAAAAAAAAEw/7oOg8b1GY7Q/s72-c/screenshot3.jpeg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/02/ustream-ing-and-im-thinking-of-you.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7394136972741069711.post-1973073973008331393</guid><pubDate>Mon, 25 Jan 2010 14:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-01-25T12:04:02.940-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">This is harder than I thought</category><title>Thinking In Pig Latin</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S13JZpEmWLI/AAAAAAAAAg0/CaH1u05yiqg/s1600-h/Penguin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 396px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S13JZpEmWLI/AAAAAAAAAg0/CaH1u05yiqg/s400/Penguin.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430718168037742770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I wonder if backwards thinking is something you have to grow out of &amp;amp; how many of us actually make it out of this delusional state.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I had a conversation with a friend and he told me a story of how he had put tons of energy into wooing a girl who wasn't into him. He bought her gifts and made her things, really really sweet and heartfelt gestures, and in turn she went and got herself a crappy boyfriend.  Naturally, after trying his best to win her over and being rejected, his feelings were hurt.  When I asked him if he has done any of those things for the woman that he is currently seeing he stated something to the effect of "no, because she already likes me".  Huh? So let me get this right. You treat a woman who clearly doesn't like you like a queen, but the one who is obviously smitten by you is treated like a peasant?  How is this right? More importantly, how can you be mad at the woman who didn't like you when you knew she didn't like you to begin with? Who's fault was it that you pursued a woman who didn't want pursing?  It's basic math.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Logical: (she likes you) + (you like her) = treat her well&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Illogical: (she doesn't like you) + (you like her) = treat her well until she likes you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Logical: (she doesn't like you) + (you like her) = Eff that hoe &amp;amp; keep it moving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I'm pretty sure that this man isn't stupid.  I'm starting to wonder how many of our issues could be solved if we actually thought about things before we did them.  When will we learn to strategize in life, instead of just living? How many of us actually sit down and think about things logically instead of being driven by our emotions?  I'm inclined to believe that life would be much easier if we would just take the time to think things out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7394136972741069711-1973073973008331393?l=cocktailour.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Cocktailour/~4/Oa5Tp3iWmGg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Cocktailour/~3/Oa5Tp3iWmGg/thinking-in-pig-latin.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (B.E.A.T)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Pnpd4s1Aw1E/S13JZpEmWLI/AAAAAAAAAg0/CaH1u05yiqg/s72-c/Penguin.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cocktailour.blogspot.com/2010/01/thinking-in-pig-latin.html</feedburner:origLink></item></channel></rss>

