Friday, August 19, 2011


Recently, a friend hooked me up on a blind date. She had described the man and he too, gave me a concurrent account: dark skinned, 6”4’, low Caesar haircut, and athletically built. My friend also mentioned that he was close to our age. When I met the fellow, I immediately thought forty years old. I would need a telescope to see forty since it’s so far off.

We had a pleasant enough dinner, wherein I discovered he was forty-seven years old. He would be better off dating my mother, I thought, but decided to enjoy the time together anyway until he uttered some deal breaking words. He was recently divorced from his wife of eighteen years, with whom he had four children. Two of his "children" are close to 25, and the youngest is a senior is high school. You know what that means? They talk back. I can’t deal with a man that has grown kids whom I’m more likely to be partying that rocking the step-mommy title.

So folks, this post is inspired by that date, an unexpected bonus. Oh yes, Mr. 47 and I are not going out again. It was an unspoken farewell message in our good night hug.

Without further adieu, part 1 of my deal breaker list (in no particular order):

1. Reggae. If a man despises reggae, we are not going to make it. I need a dub in a club, basement bashment, wave yuh rag kinda man. Someone who enjoys Beres and Sanchez in concert. Listens righteous music, beyond an occasional Bob Marley track and enjoys old school dancehall, not that Vybez Kartel spin me like a satellite dish ting. Chuh. Will do his best to dance the reggae set at a party. Just try is all I'm asking. Stoosh man nuh fuh me.

2. Teeth. If a man’s teeth are different lengths, shapes, colors, or visibly missing, we’re not going to make it. The minute I see that, my face will scrunch up in horror.

3. PDA. I am all touchy feely in public, and if a man doesn't like that, it's okay. There’s some other woman out there for him who will throw anti in front of public displays of attention.

4. Bruk. Sure, being a conservative spender is smart, but a man who complains of thin pockets ALL THE TIME is just more that I can bear. The minute he figures out I have a coin jar to shake out at TD Bank, he’ll want to tap the coffers or mention how much he’d like to take me out but this isn’t a pay week and funds are low so maybe I can pick up the tab this time. Again.

5. Cook. I know men like a woman who can cook, but I like a man who throws down in the kitchen and backyard. Know how to use a barrel? Psh. Major points. And yes, I can cook. In fact, the kitchen is my favorite place in my house, and I love cooking for two with my boo.

Have a few deal breakers to share? Post 'em in the comment section. Part 2 of mine will post next week.

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice

Tuesday, August 9, 2011


Some things just don't change, like my Laundromat habits. I was going to write another laundry lunacy story, inspired of course by my new supply of disinfectant spray, which still makes babies and grannies choke and others stare at me with annoyance, but decided to pull a post from the archives. :-)

Since the last laundry post, I switched establishments. The new Laundromat attendant told me I couldn't spray disinfectant in the machines "because the owner said so. It damages the machines." So you know what I did? Sprayed the machine anyway and told her to tell the "owner" that until I see him clean these machines, I need to spray for my own safety. After, she was done coughing, she rolled her eyes and let me wash my clothes in peace.

The post:

A little something I wrote while at the Laundromat. Enjoy ☺

I'm sitting at the Laundromat watching someone's plaid boxers spin in the dryer when one of the owners/workers/whomever goes to retrieve the patron’s now-dried clothes. This broad starts dropping MAD clothes on the floor! Socks, shirts, sheets and drawers! Now, someone just paid 80¢/lb for drop-off service only to receive dirty drawers. The dude that will have to wear those drawers may as well rub his genitals on the floor as far as I'm concerned. Just nasty. She didn't even try to shake some of the dirt off...looked more like she intentionally rubbed the floor with them like it was a dust mop...without the stick!

See folks, my OCD won't allow me to drop-off my clothes, suffering through the incessant megaphone-like chatter of two two broads running this Laundromat.

I spent my hard-earned $3.50 to wash and the damn rinse and spin cycle went berserk so what happened? My frickin' clothes tumbled out soapy!!! I love some Tide but when I saw all my clothes foaming like a bubble bath, I called her over. And guess what? The broad doesn't speak A WORD OF ENGLISH! I'm not against immigrants but c'mon. You want my money and can't provide a English? I just spent $16.25 just to wash and had to break a Jackson just redo an entire load – just for a better rinse. On top of everything else, the broad only understands gestures and guess what? She touched my clothes! See, when you have to gesture people get all touchy-feely. Her clammy hands were just picking crabmeat out her teeth (for real) and what was left over was wiped on that man’s drawers. Ill. Floor dirt and crabmeat; that’s one unlucky dude.

Part II:

I took a break from writing, thinking the saga was over, but no way.

I'm still waiting for my “rinse only” load while others dry. My shopping cart is in the rear, near the washers and my back is turned. Why did this raggedy white dude walk in who look like he could use a tumble in the washer himself? He just smiled but I'm really laughing at him. He was putting is dusty clothes (maybe he was driving in the desert?) in a machine next to mine. I had to hurry up and move my shopping cart before my "need to line dry" clothes was coated with dust like the kid in Charlie Brown. What’s his name anyway?

Part III:

Wait, I really thought this blog was done. The devil is a liar!!!!

This brother looking like a Bob Marley reject walks in with 3 big bags of dutty clothes then disappeared. Remember now, I moved my shopping cart to a safe location to avoid the dust flying from the raggedy white guy. The Bob Marley reject just resurfaced with about 7 more bags! Then presumably, his main woman came in smiling at me with a big bow in her hair like Dorothy. If that wasn't enough, the broad used the stool reserved for short people to add detergent, to turn the tv channel. It's midday and there's no frickin' cable to watch CNN but that doesn’t seem to bother her so she attempts to turn to another station for what? A soap opera. SMH...

Clothes, please hurry up and finish...LMAO

Lata Lovelies,
-Betsy Ice