Twerkin It

Being an avid BET late night music video watcher, I have picked up a few dance moves over the years. Most notably, the Twerk. Not to be confused with the Jerk, the Dougie, or any other dance that requires clothing. This is a dance of seduction.

Basically, it involves you vigorously shaking your ass like a stripper. How do you know you're doing it right? Push your ass out as far as it can go, shake as hard as you can, and if your lower back begins to feel as though it's going to snap in half, you know you're doing a good job!

I had yet to debut my Twerking skills to my Muffin. It's the kind of dance you keep at home, for your man, but its also the kind of dance that requires months of practice. Once I felt that my Twerking was perfect, I would seduce my muffin and show him how lucky he is to have wifed me up.

The other day, Muffin and I were both in the bathroom. I was in the shower, he was trimming his beautiful facial hairs over the sink and getting water spots all over the mirror, as usual. I had turned the iPod on before I hopped in for my morning scrub. I like to pretend I'm in a music video while showering. I try to mimic the video hoochies that are standing under waterfalls, posing and dancing all kinds of sexy. While they may be getting paid to do that, I'm getting clean!

My iPod playlist consists of pretty much the most random music on earth. Country, Rap, Spanish, Arabic, Jazz, you name it, its on my iPod. That morning, it started off with a few slower songs, then came a hard core rap song. The kind of song that makes you want to dance. The kind that made me rip open the shower curtain and start Twerking.

Obviously, I'm not shy. I never have been and even though I know I should probably have a little more humility in my life, I find nothing wrong with dancing, in the shower, for your soon to be husband. So, I really decided to go for it. If I was going to Twerk, I was going to be the best damn Twerker that Muffin would ever see. I saw Muffin looking out of the corner of his eye. He was pretending to be too busy to notice, too busy trimming his 11 chin hairs, but I knew he liked what he was saw. Those girls in the music videos have NOTHING on me.

Except better balance.

Dancing in the shower has one major problem. It's slippery. My butt was shaking so vigorously that I lost my footing and hit my head on the ledge that the soap and shampoo bottles are supposed to sit on. Being the professional that I am, I didn't let that ruin my routine. I acted as though it was supposed to happen, slowly, and seductively closed the shower curtain. Then I held my forehead as tight as I could and sat down in the shower rocking my self back and forth.

Muffin saw me Twerkin as best I could. He was not going to see me sitting in the tub looking like a helpless fat baby.

Obviously, this is not a video of ME Twerkin. I'm way better at it.

Lesson Learned:

It is much safer to watch music videos with your man than to try to replicate them... in the shower.

Water Torture

Those of you that know me know that I am a neat freak. Growing up, I was raised by a Cleaning Cop, with major OCD, so there was never one corner of the house that wasn't sanitized, dusted, and wiped down with bleach for good measure. On the weekends, my job was to clean the mirrors and windows. Most people clean their windows a few times a year. I, however, was forced to do this 52 times a year. Growing up, our house was pretty big, had 3 glass sliding doors, and the entire kitchen had glass walls that looked into the backyard. It was a giant glass house and I was responsible for keeping it streak free.

I never realized that all that cleaning of glass transferred into my adult life. Only living on my own, my place was always clean, organized and streak free. This, however changed 4 months ago. While I've been on many dates, I have never lived with a man... until now. Muffin and I moved in together 4 months ago and it has been one lesson after another.

I have learned that after he comes home from work, my Muffin enjoys spending about an hour, playing his playstation games, while on the toilet. I consider this his well deserved "me" time after a long days work. I've also learned that he is the world's slowest laundry folder. Literally, in the time it takes me to fold an entire load of laundry, he has folded 3 shirts. He calls it "precision folding". I call it slight retardation. Aside from the small things that drive me crazy, living with Muffin has its upside. He always makes the bed, takes the trash out, and kill spiders when necessary. There is way more good than bad, so I cant really complain.

However amazing he may be, Muffin does something so repulsive, so disgusting, so absolutely disrespectful that I need to blog about it. I'm not sure why, but this man is the King of Water Spots. While brushing his teeth, washing his face, or even just walking past the bathroom, he manages to get water spots ALL over the mirror in the bathroom. I'm not just talking about 2-3 random spots, I'm talking about 30-50 spots. Yes, I've counted.

It's not just the spots. Its the fact that whenever he gets out of the bathroom, there is water on the counter, the floor, and the mirror. I honestly think that he tries to fit his entire body into the bathroom sink to take a bird bath, then gets out and shakes himself vigorously to dry. That is the only explanation I can come up with. What baffles me the most is that God made this man, so precise, so accurate, with the ability to pee while standing up, into a small bowl, but he is unable to wash his hands without a tidal wave destroying my smudge free mirror? It's just so frustrating.

This began to frustrate me so much, I told some of my friends about it. Little did I know that all of their boyfriends, husbands, brothers, male roommates did this same thing! Maybe it's a claiming of territory thing men do. A dog pees on things, a man gets water spots on every thing.

Since Muffin and I have only lived together a few months, I don't want to seem like a nag. I don't want to constantly hound him about being dirty and disgusting. That will start after the wedding. So, I try my best to just be patient and clean the spots whenever I see them. Usually right after I've spent 15 minutes cleaning the mirror, Windex-ing til my heart is happy, Muffin will deface my newly cleaned mirror and I cant help but throw a fit. I've literally dragged him into the bathroom, shown him water spots to which he responds "Babe, I don't see anything!" or my favorite response, "Babe, that's natural. At least you know I'm clean!"

I know I'm truly blessed and I'm super grateful for a man like Muffin to share my life with. He's super supportive and kind, he's always making me laugh and smile, he constantly tells me I'm the best, most beautiful person on earth. (which obviously isn't hard to do since it's the truth) He is my best friend. I never thought I'd be so lucky. But why God, WHY? Why must he torture me this way?!

Lesson Learned:

If you don't want water spots on your mirror, marry a woman.

Let's Get Married!

Every girl has, at some point in her life, imagined how she will be proposed to. Being the dramatic princess that I am, I knew that it was going to be grandiose. I had always envisioned being whisked away on a romantic weekend getaway, the man of my dreams getting down on one knee as the sun sets off in the distance. I figured I'd be wearing a ballgown, with my hair blowing in the wind as he professes his love for me, tears in his eyes, tears streaming down my face, the sweet ocean breeze wrapping itself around us as I say yes and leap into his arms. I had no other vision for my proposal.

I met Muffin 6 years ago. His ability to wear a suit drove me wild. I was young, he was newly single, and I fell so madly in love with him I scared him into the friendship zone. There was something so genuine about him that I didn't care that we were just friends. I knew that he was supposed to be in my life - in any shape or form. I really cant recall what turned our friendship into romance, but somehow we found ourselves knee deep in love. We had talked about getting married, about future children and even tried picking out names for our imaginary family. So far the only things we can agree on are Sha'Diamond and Velocity for the girls and Ja'Michael for the boy. We're very classy.

I figured that because my Muffin takes forever to do anything - waking up, brushing his teeth, cleaning, driving, sleeping - we wouldn't be engaged for years. I figured in 5 years, he'd have no choice but to marry me. I never saw it coming. I had absolutely no clue that it would happen so soon.

I had taken a trip to Chicago to visit my family and to see Ricky Martin. Yes, I still love him. And yes, I know he's gay. I had planned to stay a few days but was having such a great time, I extended my stay to over a week. Even though Chicago blood runs through my veins, I have transformed into a California girl and the cold weather, snow, and rain froze me to the core and infected my sinuses to the max. The day that I flew home, I was doped up on nasal spray, cough drops, and Nyquil. I couldn't wait to get home and lay in my own bed, pull the covers over my head, curl up in fetal position and sleep until I felt normal again.

When we landed in California, I turned on my cell phone to call my Muffin to alert him to get in his chariot and pick my sweet ass up. I had several texts messages waiting for me and as I waited for people to deplane, I quickly read through them. One stood out. A message from Muffin's aunt in Detroit congratulating me, asking if the wedding bells would be ringing soon. I was confused.

I immediately call my cousin freaking out. He told me that he had no idea what I was talking about. Then I called my friends. No one knew anything. But why would his aunt congratulate me? Maybe she texted the wrong person? I begin to freak out. I'm too sick to be proposed to. Is he going to be at the baggage claim, ring in hand, asking me to marry him with snot running down my face? I was terrified.

I got my bags and waited outside. I was so nervous. When Muffin pulled up, he got out and he was dressed up. My heart began to race. I hugged and kissed him, got into the car, searched the back seat for any signs of a proposal but there was nothing to be found. We got home, I went to the bathroom to compose myself, wash my face, and pop multiple Nyquil pills. I literally could not hear, my nose was completely congested, and I had the worst headache ever. The flight home had amplified my sinus infection to the extreme and I was miserable.

I come out of the bathroom and see that my Muffin is anxiously waiting for me in the kitchen. He tells me that he had spoken to my father while I was in Chicago about us moving in together. I had tasked him with telling my father about our decision because I figured if my father didnt like it, he would kill Muffin and I'd still be safe. I asked what he said, how he reacted, what happened, and Muffin told me he wrote down everything that was said in a letter. He had put it in the new bookshelf he bought and put together for me while I was out of town. He had placed it in a book he had given to me when we had first started dating.

As I picked the book up, I saw a ring box behind the book. I knew it was happening. I was shocked. I was sick. I was deaf, and everything was happening too fast. He came over to me, said a bunch of nice things that I couldn't hear through the congestion. Inside the box was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. He asked me to marry him and put the ring on my finger. I said "are you serious? are you sure? no, really? oh my god. seriously?" for about 2 minutes before I said yes.

I then jumped up and down while screaming. I was the happiest girl in the world. I called my parents, my friends, and in about 20 minutes, I began to feel the Nyquil.

I never in my life thought I would be proposed to, while miserably sick with a sinus infection and deaf from my ears being plugged after a plane ride home. I never thought I'd be immediately sleepy after being proposed to because I tripled the recommended dose of Nyquil. Literally 20 minutes after my Muffin proposed, I was in bed.... asleep... and probably snoring.

It was nothing like what I had imaged, but it was perfect. For my blog.



Lesson Learned:

Don't dream too big. Your sinuses will get too congested at extremely high elevations.

When Romance Turns into a Nightmare

As a newly engaged woman I take pleasure in the sweet things my Muffin still does for me knowing that once we're married his lack of romance is protected by the law. That is why I was so excited to know he set up an hour long massage for me, all by himself!

How special am I to have the man I love call ahead, make an appointment for me, and pay for an hour of relaxation and pampering. I was so excited. But that excitement soon turned into fear.

As most of you know, I'm a stickler for being on-time. I got to my appointment a few minutes early only to find that the doors to the office were locked. I waited a few minutes before I saw a large Native American woman running in the parking lot towards me. She was wearing a dream catcher necklace that swayed with her large chesticles as she ran as fast as she could in my direction. Before I knew it, she was hugging me. A random stranger was hugging me in front of a locked office. I should have known then that I was not here for relaxation and pampering.

The Chief Lady set up the massage room while I waited in the lobby. The office was peaceful, tranquil, and very adorable. I tried not to think about the awkward greeting outside, but tried to focus on the sweet gift my Muffin had bestowed upon me. Chief Lady led me back into the room, told me to get undressed and lay under the blankets.

As I lay there, excited for the massage to come, Chief Lady told me that she was going to read the energy in my body to understand where she needed to focus the massage. As she rubbed me down with oil, I could not have been happier. She started with my feet, then worked her way up to my thighs. She then, did something I never saw coming. She took a hot stone and put it in the top of my butt-crack.... inside of my underwear. I...was....mortified. How many other people have had that SAME stone in their butt-cracks? How do people relax when there seems to be a hot dookie in their pants? I did not like this. I did not like this one bit.

Chief Lady then told me that I carry a lot of stress in my tail-bone - my sacred place. She mentioned that was a characteristic of people who were nurturing and motherly. She told me she sensed that I was very caring and that I was a good person. I couldn't help but agree. She then told me that lots of good things were coming my way - all at the same time - and that I would need to prepare my body and mind. Chief Lady told me of the importance of focusing on the good things that come so that I can appreciate and welcome them into my life.

Then, Chief Lady, in a steady and serious voice said "I want you to take a heating pad every night and put it on your Vagina. I want you to talk OUT LOUD to your Vagina and say 'Hey Girl, It's me. Just want you to be prepared for the things that are going to happen to you. It may be scary and different, but the journey will be great. Girl, I want to prepare you for the insemination.'"

I don't know what exactly I thought was most funny, but I laughed. Hard. Mostly because I couldn't believe this woman was talking to my fancy part, and telling it to prepare for seeds that were going to be planted. She looked at me and told me, in her oh-so-steady voice, that this was a serious topic. She told me that it was important for me to be physically and mentally prepared for my body to get pregnant as it was going to happen soon. Very soon.

I was scared. She was serious. Does she know something I don't know? Can she tell, just by rubbing me down with oil that my uterus was stretching and doing squats, all so it can carry a baby? I didn't think it could get any more weird .... but then Chief Lady takes a stone and puts it over my heart. All I could think was that it was the same stone that was in my butt-crack minutes earlier, the same stone that was probably in others butt-cracks as well. Now, this butt-crack infested stone was on top of my precious heart.

I couldn't wait for the massage to be over. I wanted to leave this place. I wasnt relaxed. I wasnt calm. I just wanted to go home, away from the stones and insemination talk. Thankfully, Chief Lady told me to take my time getting dressed and she'd meet me in the lobby when I was ready. I got off the table only to find that my entire body was oily. There were no towels anywhere, no tissues, nothing. Just the sheet and blanket that had been covering my body. I took the tan colored sheet and wiped the oil off my body. The sheet was now literally greased stained, so I hid it under the blanket and walked briskly to the door.

Before I could leave, Chief Lady proceeded to hug me 4 times - telling me how special, beautiful, lucky, etc I am. She thanked me for "letting her be her" on our hour long journey together. She then walked me to the door.

I thanked her one last time. I could taste freedom. I couldn't wait to get into the car and call my Muffin to tell him how crazy the lady was. Before I could get to the car, Chief Lady yells one last thing to me.... "I cant wait to crash your wedding!!!!!!!"

Lesson Learned:

Instead of training your man to be romantic, teach him to be resourceful. Teach him how to use Yelp. It'll save you both from butt-crack infestation.