Category "Keep Livin"

New Rule


If I am not in the equation then I am not responsible for the Outcome or the Solution_Mike`







Act civilized!

I told ya’ll I’ve been in protest on people sending me reports of the goings on and current events of the nation yet people refuse to respect my space and since people who know me well-know I enjoy a  little mischievous they couldn’t resist sending me this…..

Back in the day, ” showin yo ass” in public could lead to you having to pick your own switch to get your ass beat. Some cultures don’t play that embarrassing your family shit! Especially,  in public because respectability needed to be maintained at all times. Yet at the same time, there were occasions when all decorum could be thrown out the window, when using your words or attempting to ignore the Un reasonable was ineffective.


Case in point, My grandmother could make cuss words sound like lullabies and correct bad behavior faster than any correctional officer. So in celebrating and honoring the dead. I salute all of the master words smith who beautifully  articulate and punctuate verbally what some of us cannot say for fear of being ridiculed or simply for not having the knack or tacked when it comes to the profane! Not to mention sometimes in painful situations we have to find ways to lighten our hearts and resist being too hard on ourselves, especially after you have done your best to act civilized!

And please understand- in the words of my grandmother_ ” you caint buy class!” For those of you who ain’t spent no time in the desert like Hagar in the wilderness enduring heartache and endless  tears feeling like you ain’t never gone see golden years…… remember what the olé folks say……” Keep Living!”

It’s like salt baybee!

It’s ok.. to choose yourself sometime-Arielle Estoria



Now when I heard about the movement MGTOW and wrote about it, well not quite wrote about it-I more like mentioned it without using it’s proper name because a) It was started by white men and I prefer to talk about things and people I know personally. Seeing as I am not a white man I didn’t think I had the authority to speak about the issues or movement directly. Secondly, I do not have a penis so what do I know about what it means to be a man in this world. From my limited perspective it seems that there are privileges that come with having a penis and privileges that come from being white. Regardless I honor all those who have the courage to speak about their pain.

Again I can only speak from my own experiences and from far as I can tell Penis Privileges exist in the community I’m from. Am I going to go down the list of experiences that I been a witness to, no. I’m not one to whine about inequalities in life, however I do talk shit occasionally. I don’t make up the rules and if I did I’m certain that I would have some favorites now could I see myself just going around fucking with people for fun and sport I don’t think so because I abhor bullies.

As I said before I indirectly wrote a piece about it or rather  about one of their complaints about women and it’s a complaint many men have not just white men but all men so after battling insomnia for several nights I ran across some YouTube channel talking about a significant amount of Black Women  adopting the MGTOW movement and I cringed and listened to the brothers’ sensitive and empathetic response to the frustrations that have led to the adoption of Black Women spring boarding their movement off of the MGTOW movement. Now hear me clearly, in life I believe you need to spend time by yourself especially after traumas and heartbreak. However, I do not encourage anyone going it alone for ever or taking a go for it with the mindset that the grass is greener on the other side. Because, truth be told we take ourselves to each stop and destination in life.

Listen I have been black female my entire life and I know all the ugly and beauty that comes from being  Black & Female in America. I got a list of injustices, heart ache and pain behind being black & female in America and since I know what it’s like to live without running water, electricity, indoor plumbing and a toilet with all the injustices black folks have endured and survived non-stop I am grateful and thankful to be an American. Since I know my heritage didn’t start with chattel slavery and since I comforted by the fact these Ratbastards do not make the Sun come up everyday I like to keep an optimistic view on life despite all the suffering life can bring on. And since I know life puts its foot up everybodies asses regardless to race, class or countrymen I also realize that some people get it worse than others as the universal Law of Relativity puts it.

With that being said, I had enough heart ache and heart break in my life to write enough songs to become a platinum country singer yet the only thing I regret is not having someone with some dawn sense to help me navigate life being a female. My grandmother died in my early 20’s and thank God she gave me a lot of wisdom and sage. She gave it to you straight lace no chase and although she left me with wisdom during my journey I caught amnesia because she was no longer here to help me navigate this life and sad to say there were not many in my mother’s generation I could turn to who had some sense to guide me along the way so I know that gap has caused so much damage causing many of us to lose our way and never make it back on the path.

Some shit is hard to recover from and some shit you never get over, with this in mind, the greatest lesson I’ve learned from my mother’s generation is not to become a Bitter Betty, not to allow life to take you down that you forget what joy looks like and feels like. That you let yourself go and only hold on to the memories of all the niggas who have dogged you including ya own daddy. You got to dig deep and remember the pretty girl who lives inside you who used to love to hula hoop and play double Dutch…… remember the songs and chants

Check out number 24

hell yea

I said um,

He fine

hell yea

And I know he look good


Teda ball, teda ball

ooosha asha,

teda ball, teda ball

ooosha asha

My name is mika

Super cool

You mess with me

You a fool

I got this boy on my mind




All the time

Straight that he’s mine!!!

Oh how we forget  the power of a Stomp and Shake. We forget to Shake shit off, Shake shit out, and Shake folks…… why ya bullshitn….my own Yeye taught me my first stomp and shake chants as a little girl, Value and keep those things you learn in your living room that your mother and other women teach you that bring joy, flavor and taste to your life-it’s like salt baybee!

Excuse the look but this is my Sunday ritual

I rarely recalled my father talking bad about my mother even after they divorced. He would merely say, ” You do not know your mother the way that I know her!  The worst thing he ever said was he hated that she went to sleep in ugly night clothes with face cream on. He felt it was a complete turn off and he made me vow never to go to bed in sweats and or in ugly night clothes. Let’s just say, I didn’t keep that promise, however I did start buying and wearing lingerie in my late teens and because of my paternal grandmother I love pajamas and house clothes.

With this in mind there seems to be a growing resentment among men, especailly the Beta Males against women and while I have no problem with men expressing their wants, needs, and desires and their lack of receiving it-I do find it extremely unappealing the way many are bitching, moaning and griping  and while  as a woman I can go from sugar to shit in a blink of an eye I do not want my man to behave like a female. Please just tell me what you want, what I am doing wrong and I will make an honest effort to fix it but dam it, there doesn’t need to be a movement.

Those of us who care are listening, so please stop with the nonsense and so after some long informal research it appears that  one of the biggest complaints men have of women is that we are ungrateful. Men talk of taking women on dates and after paying for dates they don’t even receive a simple gracious sincere, “Thank You!” It boils down to not feeling appreciated and once a man doesn’t feel appreciated he does not feel inclined to do more for a woman.

I’m certain my Ex-Husband could and would put me in this category of women because often times I would be ungrateful towards the things he would give me and do for me. At the time, I felt no since of gratitude because he was consistent in giving me things I didn’t ask for. I would ask for specific things and even go so far as to tell him where to find them. If I asked for intangible  things I would describe in-depth why I needed and wanted it but some how or another he wound never get me or give what I asked for.

I will say that he had intentions of trying to make me happy. He interviewed elders in his family and in the community and time and time again he was given the sage advice, “Just give her what she wants!” These were men and women well in their 60’s, 70’s and 80’s who had been married for 30 to 50 years so you would think they knew a thing or two of how to stay married and keep a woman happy.

To my dismay, he was adamant about the elders being wrong -mind you his own grandfather had given him the same advise and he looked me dead in the face and told me, ” NOPE that aint the answer, they had it wrong and continued to not give me what I wanted and needed. I used to scratch my head because I was like here is a man bright enough, willing enough to go talk to and search for answers to make me happy and receive the answer over and over yet not be willing to use the answers to solve his problems or make his life better.

Who knows had I been able to be grateful and thankful for the things my Ex-Husband would give and do for me although they were not wanted what I desired- he may have eventually given me what I wanted. Had I perfected at least 5 ways to say thank you while cleaning the house in a string bikini who knows what I could have receieved. I got this idea from my cousin after she recalled the events of her day. She was greeted at the door by her client wearing a carnery yellow bikini with dish washing gloves on her hands. She told my relative, ” come right in, excuse the look but this is my Sunday ritual I clean the bathroom in my bikini, it keeps my husband’s attention and motivates me to stay in shape!”  As she  wisked my cousin to the study room where she tutored the vixen’s daughter, the savy women’s husband kissed her on the cheek as he gleefully left the house. She coilfully looked at my cousin and said, ” He’s going to get me something I asked for!”, with a big smile on her face.

31 different languages to say Thank You 


You may want something but not be ready for it

You might as well stay with the man  you are with and learn the lessons you need to learn because if you don’t you will end up with the same man in a different pair of pants -Hae Kung Lee


Learning how to get what you want comes down to the silent agreements we make with people-the silent contracts. One of the biggest mistakes most people make is throwing a relationship away thinking that they are going to get better and that they deserve better. You may-in fact deserve better however, if you cannot handle the relationship you are in currently-chances are you will be no more successful in the next. Not to mention, you may want something but not be ready for it.

For example, my ex husband had this line he frequently said that started as a mumble and as his emotions grew would turn into an outburst. ” You always tyrna run shit, you ain’t runnin shit!” What usually followed with this mumbling statement  was destructive patterns of  behaviors that would sabotage and destroy the goal, plan and work that would benefit us all. I would have to reset or go through several goals and plans only to work in vain because no matter how much I explained that there was a Mutual Benefit in cooperating,  for some reason his brain perceived it as a threat. In his mind, I was the enemy, I wasn’t to be trusted.

It didn’t really register to me- until after we divorced that the ways in which we grew up had impacted our relationship. I grew up in a 2 parent household where my father was the head of the house. I later realized that my mother was the head strategist. My father was a natural hustler and he had a niche for creating opportunities to make money even during difficult times. I watched my mother’s brilliance as she created plans to help my father win. He did what my mother suggested and as a result he won big.

No shade or blame, my ex husband grow up in a single household where his mother was the ruler and since there was not a constant presence of a man his mother made him the man of the house, he became her stand in husband. Imagine being a 9 year old and having to take up the responsibilities of a grown man, add the crack epidemic and a young 9 year old not only becomes the husband his mother never had, he becomes the active nurturer, provider and caregiver to younger siblings without participating fathers. I had not seriously thought about the family dynamics either of us had encountered growing up. I naïvely believed love would conquer all!

It took me a long time to learn that I had silently agreed to be my ex husband defender, provider and protector because of his background. I had sacrificed myself so many times so that he could win. I was often frustrated and would plead desperately for him to honor his word and follow the plan so that I could finally win.

I never looked at it from a logical perspective:

  • Why would he want things to change he was winnning
  • Things changing meant that he would have to learn and do new things
  • Things changing would mean that he would no longer be the center of attention
  • I was asking him to step into the unknown
  • Change insights fear

Please believe I wasn’t this insightful when I wanted make the shift, so I went about shit- ass hole backwards and I had to throw the baby out with the bath water because he refused to mutually agree to make the shift. He thought I had gone insane, reflecting back, why wouldn’t he…. he was the focus and his needs were getting met for almost 20 years- I hadn’t required or asked for much. I didn’t even sweat him into marrying me the way most women did men.

By the time, I looked up my youth had passed me by and the only thing I had cared about most of my life was making him happy. For a long time, I received joy from making him happy. Yet, he didn’t seem interested in me winning, hell truth be told I didn’t see myself winning so how could he. By the time I wanted to win, things had been cemented and the last resort was a Kill Bill situation minus the gore and violence but that’s another story. Who knew telling a man- you were no longer interested in doing things in  the same way would lead to such vengeance.

So when you decide that things aren’t working in your relationships whether its a romantic relationship, a business relationship or a family relationship please do not be naïve if and when you decide that you want to shift the relationship so that you benefit more. I beg of thee- to Not be surprised if there is  push back and or a war ensues. Please think long and hard  about all the silent agreements-all the silent contracts you made and how long they were in effect before you make a move. This can and will save you a lot of money, heartbreak and pain when you take full responsibility and inventory as to how you played the biggest part in not getting what you wanted.



How to get out of your head & into your body



black people dancing: Spanish dance

I have had to learn how to talk to myself. I have had to change my mind and how I think. I intellucally know my tongue has power, however, in many cases I am fragmented, which makes it a challenge to safe guard my mind, body and spirit.

I have a good body, it is healthy, although, I could stand to lose a few pounds. My negative self talk is no longer a motivator and considering I am a professionally trainer dancer it’s not like I do not know what to do, to get in shape. So what’s wrong?

My body is soft in many places, toned in other but the idea that my entire body needs to be rock hard bothers me. That my body would have to mirror my mind, that it needs and has to be strong.

There are days that I want to be soft, and pink, light and fluffy, girly, wild and free. I want to where slippers not for someone to come rescue me but so my feet won’t feel so heavy. No matter the style or fit of the shoe I am wearing-I feel like I am literally always in combat boots that I can never take them off for fear I won’t be ready for the defense or the offense. Cause the shit don’t stop!

I have slowly returned to the embrace of my loving and faithful mistress and she has promised to be gentle. She knows that we are co-creators and she needs me just as much as I need her. However, I cannot be in oposition or resistance to her. I must be completely open in order to receive and in return my sensuality and feminity flows like a river. When I dance I cannot think so I am out of my head. Constantly being in my head is destructive to my body.

Being in my body- listening to my body,  reminds me of why I am longing to be soft. My mistress reminds me that I must surrender to be soft, to surrender would mean that I would have to be vulnerable open, spacious, expansive.

When the drum calls, my feet and my body respond and when I let go and surrender completely the drummer and the dancer become one and you can literally transcend space and time and experience what can only be described as being high.

Why you need to understand the first rule in business!


1944, El Salvador --- Women make sleeping mats, called petate, and floor mats from tule --- Image by © Luis Marden/National Geographic Creative/Corbis

It’s business it aint personal!


I finally saw the documentary, “Murder Rap Inside the Biggie and Tupac Murders” and all I got to say is they need to change the word ” Snitchin” to ” Telling” cause them negros in that documentary was telling it all. Just plain diarrhea of the mouth, supposedly loose lips sink ships but not in this case the more they was telling the more so many of them were exonerated of their crimes! And the only thing I could think of is why the hell is my cousin Derrick still in prison?

I remember when the whispers started in the family about my cousin Derrick and what he was doing. I remember the day my grandmother told him to ” leave that nigga alone!” after he got into a fight in her front yard with a dude named after one the Disney’s Seven Dwarf’s who was supposed to be his friend and homie. I might have been young but I knew the nigga was suspect the first day I laid eyes on his ass, he had a perm with rollers in his head. How you gon be hard-gang banging with curlers in your head and I knew from that day forward he would be detrimental to Derrick-he was warned but he didn’t listen.

ca. December 1994, Cerro Verde National Park, El Salvador --- Branch of Coffee Tree in El Salvador --- Image by © Peter Guttman/CORBIS

Back in the day you could snitch on the homies and still catch jail time. Just ask that nigga who snitched on my cousin and the rest of the homies how much time he got- he got life-like everybody else, so how these new negros escape jail time is beyond me, no I stand corrected, they are able to tell on a friend through the RICO Law loop holes.

I was young when my cousin Derrick went to jail, hell he was young. My beautiful handsome cousin with his dipped in honey dark brown glaze complexion was 18 years when he was arrested. He escaped and was later captured at 19 years old. It’s ironic that Ron Newt broke out the same prison I had once visited my cousin in some twenty years ago. But Ron Newt was free and negros were now having viewing parties all of the nation from stolen stories of his life. Again Ron Newt was free and Negros was on a turn up watching ” Empire”, while my cousin was in solitary. It brings to mind how Gabor Mate talks about the very people who were abused as children are the ones who end up in prison and my cousin had experienced unspeakable abuse so there’s no wonder he ended up a wild boy.

10 Jul 2012, El Salvador --- Central America, El Salvador, Quezaltepeque: Kids toys inside the especial cell block that hosuesvmothers and living with their children at the Quezaltepeque which houses only members of the Barrio 18 gang. --- Image by © Juan Carlos/Corbis

I just don’t understand how you lock boys up, teens up for the rest of their lives when you know that the entire crack epidemic was plotted and planned and the young black  boys from Southern California were nothing short of boy soldiers no different from the African boys used all throughout Africa to fight wars. How is it that the children from the continent could get sympathy from people continents away but black boys here are looked as thugs, criminals, and throw aways when their behaviors mimics the leaders of the world.

I often wonder about all the boys from El Salvador who came to the United States fleeing from the civil war there only to have to learn to gang bang to stay alive here in Los Angeles. Later to be deported back to El Salvador years after  they had forgotten their homeland. The system dumped them back in a land that was worse off than what they left as children and you wonder why these same men who were once children take to criminal activities, it’s fucking common sense you can only see so many murders and mayhem for so long before you go completely insane! But remember it aint personal, it’s business!

I think about the boys from El Salvador often because I remember laying on my back looking at the ceiling as my friend Sylvia told the story of how her family had escaped from El Salvador . I could see in her eyes sadness, relief and disappointment. Sadness because she missed her home land and the family she left behind, some relief because her family had managed to settle in a small home in Compton that reminded her of home with all its fruit trees growing in the back yard. Disappointment because she felt only slightly safer because there was a war going on around us and we both knew at any time we or someone we knew could be killed for no apparent reason. How you learn to live, survive and for a tiny few thrive in terrorism God only knows?

I am further reminded of how power, money and influence can affect your life. Had my cousin hired Johnny Cochran or had known some influential people more than likely he would be out of prison but who knew to hire Johnny Cochran- I had only heard of the man once the OJ trial started happening, yet it speaks volumes of how he knew the law. I vaguely remember the attorney my cousin hired to fight his case, I only remember he was a white man. My cousin is almost 50 years old and is still in prison.

The paradoxical thing about using the RICO Law against black gangs is a complete oxymoron considering black gangs in Southern California were not and are not organized. Could these negros think and get along long enough for HSBC to have to pay a fine, absolutely NOT! There are no shot callers, leaders, there is no hierarchy, or structure. Nothing against New York or the East coast but there is no way in hell if these negros were organized that dudes from New York could infiltrate negros in Southern Cali and start a war with most of the casualties being from Cali, I’m just saying. I’m out right embarrassed and saddened because boys who once played together, who knew each other’s families had become enemies as men…..but……why?




A hard head makes a soft ass


A hard head makes a soft ass! American- African proverb

19 Jul 1938, Hollywood, Los Angeles, California, USA --- Original caption: When a Film Player "Blows Up" Before Camera. Hollywood, California: Sometimes a film player makes a scene in front of the camera not exactly called for the script. Labeled "blow ups" these scenes usually occur after the player has "muffed" a line -- that is, said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Exasperated, the player may grimace, snap his fingers, or go into tantrums. Photo shows Lola Lane, Warner Bros. player, muffs a line and is pictured catching her breath after the shock of realizing that she ruined a scene. --- Image by © Bettmann/CORBIS

I am a visionary. It’s both a gift and a curse. The gift and the curse part is I can see the entire picture, from start to finish. I am able to clearly visualize all the problems and solutions that will arise from the beginning of the journey until the end. However, my biggest problem and frustration is getting other people to see and understand what I see.

I can walk into a room and let’s say there are 7 people working on finding a solution to a problem. More likely than not, they have been trying to figure things out for months or longer. Keep in mind, I can walk in and almost immediately see the entire picture tell them what’s wrong, all the possible solutions, the pathways to get there and ways to mitigate and avoid risks and dangers along the way . You would think it would be met with applause and gratitude but initially its met with resentment because most times people have been waiting on a pathway to a solution and my presentation of the information comes out of my mouth so matter of fact and quickly. More importantly, everything I say is going to happen-happens.

My visionary gifts or skills have been mislabeled as being bossy. As a result, I’ve given up how people respond to the information and I step aside and when things come to pass I try not to say, ” I told you so!” I’ve come to the conclusion I am not bossy-I’m Impatient! Because I have the gift of sight and can see clear pathways it makes me want to move, to get shit done and over with-problem is I’m taking other people along with me and Opposition and Resistance takes over.

The profound shock and awe that I am met with after things come to pass from the very folks in opposition and resistance is enough to make me hawk spit. I think if only they would listen, we could avoid all the shenanigans, get things done and have our desired results, oh but no, we must need to encounter all necessary bullshit from start to finish that the journey takes much longer to complete.

I would often grow angry and feel ignored and feel even more resentment when people would come to me and tell me I was right, REALLY, I would think with a turned up lip and the side eye. Over time, I began to realize that I did not have the language to help people see the vision. I learned through time that I was the one with the vision and it was merely my responsibility to give the message, now rather they listened or not was not on me!

I often think of ancient stories and holy leaders trying to get people to listen to get people out of all their bad circumstances. I could not have ever been holy or a God because I would envision handling people’s obstinacy to  the way Nigerians in Lagos, handle people who cause accidents. (talk about mastering the pimp hand slap with the speed and accuracy of a master chef slicing abilities that it could be labeled an art form)

It brings to mind the story of Moses and the Exodus and had I been Moses I would have left folks wandering in the wilderness with all their moaning, bitching and complaining, opposition and resistance. I would have told God,  ” I’m done, you gon have to send somebody else to lead them, they just to dam hard-headed for me!” Alhammad Lillah, I no longer get angry when people refuse to heed the warnings or the directions.

How not to be disappointed when love doesn’t show up the way you think it should

When you pray to God for a cup be specific in details, make sure to ask for a cup with a handle- Baba Alade

I was sitting on a soft sunken in couch mean mugging because I did not want anyone to talk to me after being dragged out of the house by Janine. She insisted that I go to a get together with her and my anti-social ass reluctantly went, although truthfully speaking, I needed to get out of the house.

I looked up with my head leaned to the side the way my Baba does when someone is asking him a question and this mocha skinned tall dude with the most perfectly faded fluffy afro called- my name again, this time with authority. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it was Reggie. He picked me up, spinned me around and hugged me so tight. My heart sank with relief. I had not seen him since Mark got killed and we said our good byes-his mother -was sending him down south so he could live.

As he spinned me around, he was telling me that he just graduated from college and had moved back to L.A. From that night on, we spent so many days and nights together drinking, eating, hanging out, playing games and spooning. Everybody used to tease us because we would get hotel rooms and fall asleep on top of the covers with our clothes on spooning. One of the last times we were together before violence and death once again interrupted our innocent love fests. We fell asleep in each others arms-with Janine and Stacey looking on shaking their heads.

Not to long after that night, Stacey got shot and killed. It made no sense, he had just graduated from college also. Rumors began to swirl about Stacey’s secret lifestyle. I phoned Reggie but instead of Reggie answering- his mother picked up the phone and her words were, ” Is somebody after my baby?” What was I supposed to say-I told her the truth, ” I don’t know!” Not to long after I tried to reassure his mother- Reggie would be fine, he called me- going off for talking to his mother. I couldn’t believe the way he was acting and treating me. He moved out of his mothers’ house and it would be years before we would speak again.

Maybe, Reggie forgot  about the events that led to his mother sending her youngest son away to live and now she was reliving the nightmare again in-which he almost lost his life years before- after someone shot up the car, him, Mark and -I can’t remember -who else was in car. Did Reggie remember Shannon screaming at the top of her lungs once we found out that Mark was dead, her boyfriend was gone and they had been deeply in love.

I guess he forgot that at 13 we had made plans to live our lives together. Reggie is one of the only men in my life who has kept a promise to me. We didn’t speak for years after Stacey’s death. We had both been working in the community doing our parts to make Los Angeles better and eventually after we had reunited and rekindled our friendship-one evening as I stood in the doorway of the W hotel, telling Reggie I was leaving after a party he had given for a friend. He said, ” You’re leaving, you’re not going to stay?” I said, ” No, I’m going home.” He looked  at me for a long moment and then said, ” I love you, I love you-no I really do love you!” I softly responded, ” I love you to!” and left.

We’re so passed the age of spooning how we’ve managed to keep our relationship sweet and innocent- God only knows. Although are lives have taken us in many different directions it seems the promise that we made to each other is the glue that keeps our lives connected. As our lives progressed we both married and divorced and have had children by other people, yet our marriage vows seemed not to be able to carry the weight of the promise that two 13 year olds made. He is the part of my youth that remains in innocent love.

I am so proud of Reginald for his commitment to improving the lives of the youth in Los Angeles. He is a reminder that all of our friends death were not in vain. He has always been my safe place to land.


How to self soothe without self medicating?



The Gods love to play practical jokes, just when you think, you have everything mapped out and planned they pull a fast one on you. I am grappling with a frustrating situation and or as they say in West Africa ” a peculiar mess” that being said I am in severe need to soothe myself with male energy.

So, I send my friend Reggie a text saying,  ” Is school getting better for you? I was sitting here thinking about who has the better juiciest sexy lips-you or Derek Luke and or what bowl of soup I would prefer to be if I were to be blown on by either of you. Please forgive me in advance, I’m having a moment!”

I love a beautiful pair of lips….” Soup Coolers” are their affectionate name. Reggie has a pair of juicy billowy lips, plump and ripe-just the right size of bigness. We have been friends since we were kids and it took him until we were grown grown to make a move on me….. that kiss caused an eruption as if we were a Lakers game……. those lips not only look and taste like the outside of the chocolate on one of those Hagen Daaz ice cream bars….. his lips are as soft and sweet as the Vanilla Ice Cream inside.

I take a deep sigh, close my eyes, and think about all the men I know or don’t know personally who have sensual lips….. the kind….. where you just want to suck the bottom of their lips and feel pure satisfaction. I’m too old to suck a bottle but not a bottom lip….. to all the mothers of the world who have created and given birth to men with lips to heal and soothe…….I thank you……..Mo dupe!