ChillSpot Online: Our Art is Life

Damn, you’re sexy!
I’d suck your dick until Wednesday!
Yeah, I said that shit. I’m nasty as hell.
The only thing nastier than me
is what some people think of me.
But I don’t give a crap about that.
I’m too damn cool for that,
in fact, I’m too cool for HIV,
Gonoree
or Syphali …
Get me?
I fuck for pleasure. I fuck for fun,
I’ll fuck your man, your woman, your son,
I’ll ride em hard until they cum,
Then keep on going till I’m done,
That bitch you always be hearin’ bout?
I’m the muthafuckin one!

Okay, so maybe I’m not that bitch, but I’ve been called it, or thought of as it, if by no one else, then by me. See, I got this yearnin, this burning lust, that means I just must fuck a dick when I get it near me, clearly that ain’t always the best way to go. Mainly it get me called a hoe, but that ain’t nuthin I ain’t dealt with before. The killer about this whole thing is that I’m madly in love and married. Right, married. And my husband loves me very much and satisfies me with his every stroke. But he cain’t fulfill my urges, wishes desires to get that hot shit up in me. So I go online, where like grapes off the vine the men are sweet on me. They come from all around the region to season this thang. Tenderize and mesmerize, but never hypnotise, but I’m trying to get wise to the game.
I told my hubby about all this, and he was okay … with a few caveats … No taking it in the rear, no more naughty pics, no bareback dicks and no swallowing …
I love my man, but I just can’t squash my appetite, for everything but one thing: big black meat. Yeah, I said that shit. I fucked with a mandingo who was packing 14 inches if he packed one, and he fucked my shit so hard and so long that I wasn’t right for a week. Even now when I think of that shit my pussy throbs … so it ain’t racial when I think twice about making nice with the dark secrets the brothas keep in their pants…
but I’m trying to turn over a new tree, become a new me, not a cleaner me, just a better me, one who can have a man in her house and not fuck him, suck him or ride him. A me who can see a man for more than his spare parts, and thus, see me for more than mine. So, what I guess I’m saying is that I’m becoming a better hoe? Ya know?

I went away to school for reasons I’m not even about to go into.
Cause it ain’t none of your business.
So don’t ask.
But anyway, I went out of state to school, and I met a boy.

He was the shit. He liked me, he liked the things I liked and I loved him for it. As things go, however, there was a lot about this boy I didn’t know. And oh boy, when it came out … it hit hard. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Before shit went bonkers, there was a lot of love … and a love of making love. It was wonderful. He was sensitive and caring and attnentive to my needs, indeed, he was the ideal man.
Bullshit!
It all turned to straight bullshit once I got pregnant.
How did I get pregnant? We used condoms!?!
Oh, it was so cute when he said our babies would be cute so we should have one, and shit like that. But this stupid idiot was poking holes in the condoms, busting them ON PURPOSE trying to conceive … and when he did, he turned to shit. He thought I was going to abort, so he stressed the shit out of me, threatened me … but that wasn’t the end.
His wife didn’t appreciate my situation one bit. Yeah, I said his wife. The fucker was married! And when I lost the baby, he kept riding me … saying I lost it on purpose … what the fuck!?!? I left him, I left there, I left school because that wasn’t the kind of education I was ever looking to attain.

I was surfin da web wen I seen dis site, axing for peeple to write about things they ben thru. I dont type so good, but I wanned to tell my side of things I ben thru. Imma ask the guy who runs da site to fix my grammer and cleen it up so I wont embaras myself…

I’m too young to be going through the things I’ve been through. I have three children. Two sons and a daughter. Only my youngest lives with me. Long story. But isn’t that what this space is for? I’m not about to mince words. I’ve been raped several times. I’ve been beaten to a pulp, left without a dime, my children in foster care, my ass in the wind. I’ve drank until my head felt filled with cement, and smoked until each breath burned my nostrils right down into my lungs.

I work at a loser ass fast food restaurant, slinging crap into the world, just like it slings it right back at me. When your food hits the floor, if no one is watching, I serve it to you. It’s not that I’m mean, I just don’t care that much. No one cared about me. Not the man who raped me and got me pregnant, not my nasty pedofile ass brother, who molested my daughter and will be invited home by my mother when his juvenile incarceration ends. No one. If this is supposed to be about redemption, I think mine won’t qualify. I have no idea how to be redeemed, because I just don’t fuckin value myself that much to begin with. I have no redeeming qualities. I take care of my son, but he’s a monster, and I had a hand to play in it, shit – I lost him for most of his life to foster care – he’s still a toddler and already showing signs of stress and delinquency. Will he grow up and beat his baby mama, or go from middle school to prison? I don’t know, but I can’t do much to help him. Or me.

So what the hell am I evolving into? Something that I wish would never exist. ….

I wanned to thank u fo reedin my feelins. I hope u don’t jugde me badlt an that u taek sumthin away frum it. TTYL. Bye.

Listen the hell up. I don’t know why I’m here, or why I’m telling you my story. Alright? So just shut the fuck up and listen, cool? Cool.

I’ve been a fool.

A fool for fucking with dumb ass thugs.
A fool for fucking with dumb ass drugs.
A fool for lying when the truth was easier.
A fool for telling a lie when the truth was sleasier.

I’ve made mistakes. A lot of mistakes, and I ain’t even that old.

26, and already feeling like I’m 40. I lost the only good job I ever had, and that was wiping old men’s asses, and having them try to masturbate when I came in the room. Since then I’ve given Ronald Mcdonald a blowjob, let the King and his court run a train on me, and even had a lesbian tryst with that dimwitted redhead over a Biggie fry and a Frosty.

So listen to me when I say, there ain’t no way I’m gonna be doing this same shit for long. You’d be wrong to assume it, and I’d be more than glad to prove it. Cause now, it’s all about my son. My angel, my main man, the reason I finally see the truth through the bull.

So you wanna know if I still lie? Why? I just told you I was through with that shit! But for real, the question is legit, cause I do, and I will, until the day when I can step up as the thing I value most for the thing I value most. My boy.

It’s been nearly a year.

A year since it happened.

A year since the accident that was NO accident.

A year since everything I thought I was and thought I wanted aimed its unseen evil at me and lashed out with the vengeance of a madman. A madman who I would have laid down my life for. Who was everything to me and mine. A madman who didn’t care nearly as much for me as he did for his own sorry ass. Alas, it’s been a year, and I hear letting go is supposed to be therapeutic. Most nights it just made me sick. This man, for 5 years was my rock, but ultimately it wasn’t nearly as solid as it appeared in my mind.

In fact, I find that my rock was a pebble, less than a stone, and not much more than a grain of sand. I thought I was powerful, but I was shown to be mistaken. By him. He who took my love, my respect, my children, and spat on it, urinated on it, flushed it, discarded it. He then stuck his hand in the bowl of spinning water and tried to retrieve us.

But it was done.

My armor was cracked, my staff broken, my pride faded … and I was still to live a year in solitude, a year of trying to recover from the destruction. I receded, but I am soon to rise again, as Athena, Goddess of War and Wisdom. Never again will a weakminded madman consume me, and use my powers for evil, then leave me for dead. I was too strong for it then, but for my mind. But now, my mind is healed, my true self revealed, and never again will I absorb another blow.

This is all so new to me.

I never had guys hit on me before. I don’t really have any friends, but I’m a really cool girl.

I love sports, but never played any before. I’m a cutie, but that never mattered to men, who only sidled up to me because they thought I’d be an easy lay, or they could have their way with me. See, I’ve looked at the world from a different perspective for most of my life, and now, to be on the other side – it’s a little overwhelming.

You know how TV shows put the fat suit on a pretty woman, and let her walk around the city in it, just to see how it feels? Then she comes back in tears from all the stares, insults and disparaging remarks she heard? That’s a little how I feel. Like I’ve shed a part of my identity, and only I see who it was I used to be. That’s why it’s really important for me to get this right. Because it’s not about them; it’s about me.

Not long ago, it was just me. Sitting at home, on my computer, planning for my future, but really hoping to get to the point I’ve reached now. I played so much Solitaire that I could close my eyes and play a round from start to finish, without losing a card. I was an introvert … you could say.

Then, like the caterpillar, I submerged, turned inward, made the decision that I would no longer crawl along the earth, but that I would fly, float, soar. But before I could do that, change had to happen.

And it did.

And it was hard. And painful. But when the day came for me to emerge from my cocoon; one flap of my wings and I knew I’d made the right choice. No longer ground bound, you might see me above you, a blur of beautful colors in flight, and know this: I’m never coming back down, and I’ll never lose sight of the scars I bare from the past, even from years away and miles above them.

Online commentors all around Ohio are dusting off their spots on the Cleveland Browns bandwagon after the team’s dazzling win over the Super Bowl champion NY Giants. Derek Anderson finally cleared his head of the cobwebs put there by these very same Giants, via concussion, in the preseason. Braylon Edwards showed he’s more than a showoff (but still QUITE a showoff, doing that Olympic-style roundoff - or was it a cartwheel? - during pregame introductions) by actually catching passes and scoring! Even without KWII, the team dropped 35 on that fierce Giants defense, and played some decent D of their own.

But … don’t call it a comeback. The team’s schedule is about to get even more trying, with Washington and Jacksonville upcoming. From 2-3 to 2-5 in a heartbeat? It’s possible. Even likely. Derek Anderson, if he can survive the meat grinder in Jacksonville without having the brain matter forced from his head, might just be something for the team. Will he? I don’t think so. But he’ll be valiant, throw killer interceptions, put mid-range passes into the turf and the third row, and stand through it all, like Rocky, which, while heroic, won’t win either of the next two.

But let us revel in the glory that a win brings. They DID indeed beat the champs. They ARE not out of the hunt for the playoffs. But, just like when The Italian Stallion finally cut the Russian, he still had to finish the fight. One cut, a victory does not make. And if this lil Rocky gets too cocky after one good lick, he may find his body in the ring, and his head in the crowd.

NFL NEWS & NOTES

Is Belichick a voyeur?: A rumor you may have missed came out of San Diego late Sunday night, where the previously 18-1 New England Patriots lost a game 30-10 to the Chargers. Fans reported seeing coach Bill Belichick smiling maniacally under his hoodie, as the carnage unfolded. Turns out, Bill likes to SEE other people score as much as he himself likes to score! Who knew?

Where’s my reward?: Indianapolis won handily over the Ravens, with WR Marvin Harrison playing a significant role in the outcome. Despite news reports claiming he was still missing, the notoriously reclusive star is in fact still around and capable.

TO over the hill: The Cowboys picked up a potential No. 1 WR in Roy Williams, in a trade-deadline deal with the Lions, that may partly have been precipitated by the swift decline in one No. 81s apparently inability to get separation from … the no-name corners of the Cardinals, who owned him in a loss Sunday. TO says it’s good for the team, but the fact is, Williams could easily be TO, with Patrick Crayton and that Austin speedster holding down the other spots. Who will TO throw under the bus for that? Oops, no room left under there!

Race to defeated-un heats up: The Texans and Rams won, taking themselves OUT of the running to be the first defeated-un team since Tampa Bay did it three decades ago, and the FIRST 0-16 team ever.

There remain two contenders for the throne. (Note: as you ALL know, defeated-un is the officialest term for someone who goes the exact OPPOSITE of undefeated. It’s like a Bizarro world winning streak.) The Detroit Lions, minus burly scapegoat Matt Millen, come in with totally tarnished record of 0-5, having lost their last game by two points, which, ironically, is the same amount rewarded when your quarterback, fleeing for his life, runs out of his own endzone, aka a safety.

Not to be outdone, and with a far greater portfolio for recent failures, the Cincinnati Bengals counter with an 0-6 record, with several heartbreaking losses, none of which bring comfort to the team who’s heart must be made of Teflon to remain after so many of that kind over the past two decades. As they aren’t scheduled to face each other, BOTH teams remain in the hunt to go for the mythical 0-16 record that even hapless Miami couldn’t attain last year, despite their best efforts to achieve. Betters call? Pick em. Personally? Bet on Detroit. The Bengals just might beat Cleveland or Baltimore, who aren’t titans (or Titans, who are undefeated) by any stretch.

Sen. John McCain and Gov. Palin should be strongly considered accessories to murder or attempted murder if something should happen to Barack Hussein Obama before, or after he takes office as the next president. These two fools have been intentionally feeding the fires of disenfranchised Americans with their line-walking hate talk.

Not any one statement alone is the cause, but the continual use of words such as “risky”, “dangerous” and “dishonorable” when referring to Obama, when placed at the side of irrational speculation and rumors (”Obama is a Muslim!”, “He’s an Arab!” “He didn’t salute the flag or visit our boys in Iraq!”) bring to a boil the paranoia and underlying hatred that many in the country have toward anyone Black or of Middle Eastern decent (minus Israel, of course. Is Israel even considered a part of the Middle East anymore?)

Palin and McCain, as speakers, are supposed to be responsible for this sort of rhetoric, but more and more, as Obama’s lead grows, and the McCain/Palin ticket falters, people are verbalizing primitive thoughts, with the real possibility that someone may just act on them if Obama should take the election.

Put another way: if Obama took up such tactics, what would likely happen is he undermines his shot at the position, and at the least, some people don’t vote for McCain. No one’s going to “kill” McCain. That’s what makes McCain’s position so perilous. He’s losing. People know it. He wants to win, but at what cost? The death of Barack Obama’s shot at the presidency, or the death of Barack Obama?

Just the mention of the thought of someone killing Obama was enough to make Hillary Clinton issue an apologetic statement. McCain likely won’t do such a thing. At least not until AFTER he took office.

All the vice presidential debate needed was ring announcer Michael Buffer, a bunch of celebs in the front row, and Larry Merchant and George Foreman covering the action. I almost swear I heard the Rocky theme song playing as Gov. Sarah Palin walked to the podium.

In the blue corner, with a record of 35 YEARS of experience, fighting in the dark suit, with light blue tie, SENATOR - JOE - BYYY-DENNNNNN! And in the red corner, the rookie from parts barely known, impeccably dressed, with a perky smile, pretty eyes and nifty red shoes, comes in with a sterling - if unverified - record (against Russian fighters, no less!) of 4-0, and OPA (Obscure Politics Association) champion of the world! SARAH - PAYYYY-LENNNNNN!

You just knew that Palin would say the words “Maverick” and “Hockey mom” at some point. She did throw a few wild ones though, especially with that George W staple - Nucular. I was one mooseburger reference away from winning the office raffle, and a free meal at Chipotle (in no way am I implying that they use moosemeat, although it might be tasty?). But she left her chin exposed when she stumbled into this little haymaker (paraphrased):

“I am tolerant of whatever gay people choose to do…”

Huh? You’re TOLERANT!?!? Tolerant is (maybe? or not really) what bigots are of black people and Latinos. Tolerant is what I am of cats and the Maury Povich show. Tolerant is what people do when they can’t just EXTERMINATE the source of said tolerance. It’s one step away from simply puking on that source, or wishing HIV on them. Hey Sarah; try ACCEPTANCE.

After hearing that, I pretty much tuned her out. She consistently changed course, fell back on cliche, talked way too much about her “experience in Alaska” as mayor of 16 people and two polar bears, and used the word “betcha” so much I expected Wally and the Beev to show up at some point.

Biden didn’t have to do much, just not take a lucky punch. He did that, even though he stumbled some too. But this debate was more about Palin, and whether she would do better than her Katie Couric interview. She did that, but only because I imagine McCain’s team drilled a hole into her cerebral cortex and inserted the information she needed Matrix-style. So yeah, she knows Kung Fu, but she’s strictly ground based. No bending space for that astro-naught.

My analysis of this bout? Biden by a TKO. Not hard to do when your opponent punches herself in the mouth, though…

Bush secretly (or blatantly) backing McCain?
When word dropped about Republican presidential candidate John McCain looking to reschedule Friday’s debate with Barack Obama, it not once struck a chord of concern for the financial free-fall the banking and housing industry is in currently. Sure, that’s what he said, but coming so close to the debate itself, it seemed almost cowardly - as if he wasn’t prepared to face the more powerful orator.

Then, President Bush injected himself into the fray, agreeing with McCain by saying the crisis is indeed more important (which in itself is true) and that the both McCain and Obama should attend the bailout meetings. Obama, and many other democrats, said that there was no reason to postpone the debate, and that they should be able to meet with the president AND debate. Some said that this was just another opportunity for a photo op for McCain and his pretty - if underqualified - VP, Sarah Palin. This rings true.

It’s a chance for McCain to pretend to be more important to the process than he is currently. Even as inept as the government can seem, they should be able to handle this ordeal without two of its members present. And even if they need be present, as president, both would be expected to multitask, and not “call off sick” whenever the urge to do something else arises.

Add the current McCain tactics to his campaign attack ads, and he seems like not much more than a big kid who knows he can’t fight, so he postures behind his bully potential, until he’s faced with a situation where he must use his mind. Of course, he’s not secure in this, so he develops a cold or a broken leg to avoid the showdown … but alas, is a broken leg enough to keep one from merely speaking? I say no. Especially if that speech is as critical to the future of this country as McCain’s will be.

What’s wrong with leaving Cleveland?
Cleveland Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert has had enough of the speculation that homegrown (Akron grown, to be specific) phenom LeBron James will leave the team when his contract expires in two years, fleeing to a place that can feed his worldly tastes. He says it’s “an insult to the city.”

Why? What’s wrong with leaving Cleveland for someplace better? The Cavaliers fans act like insecure parents, afraid they’ll lose their hope for something better if their child moves away. Isn’t it supposed to be a good thing if a child finds happiness and success someplace else? God bless the child that got his own, right?

For pure nostalgia and sentimentality, I’d like him to stay here and bring the town a title, because it’s fun to live vicariously through his achievements. But in no way does that mean I’ll stop cheering for him in Brooklyn, LA, Boston, or anyplace else. Being from the Cleveland area does not tie you to the place. And really, Cleveland isn’t much more than a stopping point city, not a destination.

You come to Cleveland to hone your craft away from the critical eyes of type A personalities and cannibals. Once you’re good enough, and comfortable enough, you head West, or East to battle with the best.

It’s that way in other cities, what’s wrong with it being the case here? Cleveland is not New York. No doubting that. Cleveland would like to be, but it’s simply a poor town, with talent oozing out of its pores, washing away to other places. Like New York.

It’s simply not fair to ask LeBron to stay for our own insecurities. That people feel that way speaks more to their fears than to his allegiances.

Random Thought
Why did I find myself strangely attracted to Cloris Leachman while watching Dancing with the Stars this week? I know she’s like 99 years old, but something about seeing that old babe move inspired me. Now, that in no way means she can dance, or that she, at any age, compares favorably to current hotties like Megan Fox or Julianne Hough, but it says that I can appreciate her beauty, even as her wrinkles absorb the gobs of makeup they put on her to cut 20 years of her looks.

You just have to click this link, or this one, to see where she gets all that sexy spunk from.