Contemplating … Krazy Kat “Advantures”

What the H***! Krazy Kat Advantures?!? Yes, you read that right … No need to adjust your screen or wipe the dust from your spectacles.  I am contemplating living life minimally and off-grid in a metal box with wheels.  Allow me to rephrase that … my southern ethnic ass is really thinking about living full-time in a pimped out cargo van. You can thank my friend, a military veteran, for the idea. Several months ago, she sent me a stream of youtube videos (see a few below) with a text (and, I honestly read it in her voice) … “girl, you need to watch this.” Ever since that day, I’ve been hooked on #vanlife. Negative Nancy will no longer haunt me … Nomad Nathaniel saves me while flying around in a cape crafted with baby wipes and treading about in thigh high hiking boots. Haha!

But, why live in a van? You may ask. Why not? I’ve had my share of living and partially owning (you’re the lender’s biotch for 15 or 30 years) beautiful homes in the suburbs and renting apartments in the city. When I shared my idea with others, you wouldn’t believe the looks and feedback that I received. At this point in my life and at this age (41 in less than 1.5 weeks), I can only show the naysayers what they only wish or dream they could do. I’m like this, you can continue to sit up in your sticks, bricks, and/or vinyl like a prisoner not eligible for parole and I’ll travel the country in my rose gold metal/plastic box with wheels. All, with a little less stress and more dinero in my bank account. I have goals to become debt free, have at least $1,000,000 in savings, and live without limitations. Anything is possible, right? In order to bring that into fruition, I must let go of those things that truly never made me happy. One being my former husband … oh, my bad, veered off the road there for a minute. Anywho, I’m a firm believer in DREAMING BIG, THINKING BIG, and DOING BIG THINGS.

I finally want to be free and as cliche as this may sound, spread my wings and fly. Well, in this case, put the pedal to the floor and explore the unknown one mile at a time. I am so flipping excited. I can’t seem to contain my excitement. I get to shower in the wild, shit in a bucket, and wake up with a view only seen in travel mags magazines.

Stay tuned family for more … Vroom Vroom!


Red Velvet, Thongs, and Handcuffs

As I lay across my queen size bed and type this not quite solemn pornographic post, I visualize myself in pure lust rolling around (said bed) in a pair of thongs … Wait, scratch that … a pair of “big granny panties” (you’ll get the picture eventually) slanging a pair of chromed handcuffs. All while indulging in a pack of Nabisco’s Limited Edition Red Velvet Oreos.


I mean, you can’t eat just one, two, or even three. Each bite is sure to cause an explosion, more like a volcanic eruption in your mouth. You chase each morsel down with a decorative “I’m Yo Biotch” coffee cup of warm vanilla coconut milk (excessive dairy may cause this fantasy to abruptly end … I’m just saying).

When you take your first bite, the initial “crunch” sends shock waves through your body. You taste the hint of cocoa from the crispy casing and the creamy and decadent cream cheese center. Yummies!

You slowly close your eyes once it hits the back of your throat and lands in the center of your belly. Mmmmm! Yes! Oh Yes! You’ve reached the peak of red velvet oreo pleasure.

On a less vulgar note, these damn Red Velvet Oreo cookies will make you slap everyone who holds a branch on your family tree. Just don’t get your ass beat.

*I am in no way affiliated with Nabisco, but if if they want to help a sister out I’m only an email away. Hey Nabisco!

Sensual Insanity

There’s nothing like waking up to a soft kiss on the cheek, a booty rub (or an abrupt, but gentle “slap-back”), and “breakfast” in bed. Mmmm … I am envisioning how amazing it would be to magically transmute my dream into my reality. I can hear the piano softly playing in the background. I can see the candles burn (flickering) … I can see the reflection of his naked body against the wall … his sexual vigor resonates. If only this masterful thought of seduction was my reality.

I want to feel his soft hands whisper against my beautiful brown skin. I want to inhale the aroma of his natural masculine musk (the pheromones enslave me). I want to taste his erect masculinity (as his bulge pulsates with each suck). I want to grab his muscular thighs as he tries to resist me. I want to suck on his protruding nipples.  I want to look deep within his soul through his beautiful animalistic eyes as he crawls between my vaginal walls. I want to speak in my sensualistic tongue, I want to wrestle like “mating” mammals, I want to feel the rhythm of his heart beat against my pulsating chest, I want to touch his chiseled torso as his sweat penetrates his glowing skin and drips slowly on my breasts.

I want to … I want to … I want to be the woman to take him there. I want to be the woman who allows him to reach his highest sexual peak (channeling his inner freak). I want to be the woman who allows him to entrap me … allows him to dive deeper and deeper into my ocean of lust. I want him to be the man who allows my river to over flow. Damn, MmmmMmmmAhhhAhhh!

I want him to be the man who loves me beyond my visual flaws, beyond my insecurities, beyond my faults, beyond my past, beyond my over-analyzing thoughts, beyond my monthly mood swings, beyond my jealousy. I want him to make love to every piece of me … to every inch of me. I want him to lick and suck every curve and every crevice.

I want him to be the one to take me to a place of sensual insanity.

Friday Nights, No Lights, A Blanket, and Sex”less” in the City

I should be snuggling with a bare chest and boxer wearing hunk, but I’m lounging on the couch wearing oversized sweats, a black hoodie (zipped up to my neck), my dad’s old tube socks (the ones with the hole right at the big toe) and the “black girl” bonnet while wrapped in a wool army blanket. What else is a single woman to do on a cold and breezy fall night?

To help ease my pain from singleness, I have 1/2 a coffee mug of Haagen Dazs (attempting to watch my caloric intake) Mango Sorbet, a snack size box of raisins, cinnamon apple chips, and a gallon of water (sitting at room temperature). There’s no such thing as gluttony … it’s just an old wive’s term.

Triple Sigh! I’m watching a marathon of Sex in the City and wishing I had the power to escape my reality and transform into the ethnic Carrie Bradshaw. Hell, I would even be Samantha for a few seconds … minutes would turn me into a certified nymphomanic.

Sexless in the City is my newfound reality.

Stepping Out on a Whim

As a woman growing up in the south, I was taught that men are the ultimate aggressors in the game of dating. Men are the “approachers” … the innocent attackers. They are the only gender to “get what they seek.” Well, I must disagree with the “morals of the land” (only in this aspect). We (women) can not only be the seekers, but we can be a little bit more aggressive in our approach; while still allowing the man to be the man. Usually when we (single women especially) see something of interest or something that attacks our psyche, we go after it (clothes, shoes, jobs, status, etc.) without hesitation. So, why can’t we apply that same eagerness to dating?

IMG_1480From personal experience, it seems that the guys who approach me are not what I would consider a fair match. And no, I’m in no way looking, hoping, praying, or wishing for Mr. Perfect. Just a man of substance … one whose first words out of his mouth aren’t, “Yo” “What’s up?” “Hey Little Mama” “You got a man” “Hey Sexy” “Can I take you home?”… I can go on, but I’m starting to get a headache (more like a migraine).

Yet, another long sigh … I miss those days when guys (some, not all) actually had a sense of adventure (rather than a compass and map to your bedroom), displayed chivalry (Can it even be resurrected?), conversed with your parents before going on a date (now, they just honk the horn or send a text … “I’m outside”), hugged you or kissed you on the forehead before they departed for the night (now, you must slap the piss out him because he tried to force his tongue down your throat), called the day after a date (Who created that damn 3 day rule?), and shared his feelings with you without shame (men still “cry” in the dark).

I have decided that I am stepping out on a whim … stepping out on faith. I’m flushing all those rules down the toilet. In order to get what you want, you must go after it. I shall remain a lady along this newfound journey. I am a woman who knows what she wants … well, at least I think I do.

Single Ladies, we must take control of our dating lives. Now, this does not mean for you to go out and start taking care of grown men. We are not trying to be a man’s mother figure … only his other half. We will approach a man of interest and conduct preliminary interviews. If we take some initiative, they may step their “weak and tired” game up.

I will create a follow-up post in a few months. Wish me luck!

Hooking Up is For the Weak

I said it. And, I will stand by every word. Being older and more mentally mature, I’ve come to the realization that some men will never live beyond their pubertal age. Hook-ups are for the socially awkward or those that lack a sense of self-respect or self-acceptance. As soon as I landed in the “City of Singletown,” I was approached by men with swelling penises and obscene pick-up lines … “I want to taste your chocolate” … “Can I come over to do you?” (Actual pick-up lines by the way). My reaction to such indecency usually involves the “black girl” eye roll or the “I know you didn’t” with a side-eye, slow eye roll, and sucking of the teeth.


Dodging protruding wankers and the sexual stench of desperation is not an easy task. These wild, monstrous, predatory, and “no respect having men” will do almost anything to attack their prey. It seems that they will “attack” aka (f-bomb) any woman with a vagina or anything that looks like a vagina. If a hairy and beastly (and I mean hair growing for decades-forget “No Shave November”) vagina (with no face, just legs) was just sashaying down the street, you would suddenly hear and see a mob of half-naked men coming out of sports bars, office buildings, and shopping centers (humping the air) … they would leap onto the estranged vagina like fleas on a wandering canine. I refuse to fall for the cheap and low-grade hook-up lines. If one can’t seem to carry a conversation or tap into his (half-empty) intellectual box, I’m NOT interested.

I’ve noticed that some men will get straight to it, right after the hello … “Hello Sexy, what are your plans tonight?” or “You are hot! Can I go home with you?” What about my name sir? WTH! Guys, not all women are looking to get laid or “get sacked.” We can go to the nearest “after dark” novelty shop and purchase a mighty big, long, and strong “power ranger” with multiple speeds … we can easily choose the color and girth.

Where are the mature, respectful, honest, and semi-comedic men? Could they be on planet Mars? I will say it again, hooking up is for the weak! Dating/Courting is becoming nonexistent here in the “City of Singletown.”

Happy 1 Month Bloggerversay to Me!

IMG_1449.JPGI accomplished a goal this year … I wrote it down and made it happen. Regardless of where I may stand in the blogging world (being that I am new and an unknown blogger), I am ecstatic and full of joy. During my “one woman show” here on WordPress, I unearthed a stream of wisdom (experiences from past relationships and encounters) and created a few real-life sagas (displaying a slight comedic flair). I am most proud of one of my biggest accomplishments … Blogging from the heart.

You can do anything you desire to do! You can fly with the eagles … You can travel around the globe … You can love without fear! Carpe Diem!

I would like to sincerely thank those who have taken time out of their lives to visit my little community. It is still a work in progress. It’s a sense of relief for me … it’s like therapy.

Exciting things to come for 2015! I shall take this divine gift to unknown heights. This is only the beginning with no room for the end. Feel free to join the Dateless in Carolina family!  Like! Follow! Subscribe! Comment! Send a Sista on a Blind Date!