Get off My Lawn!

So I'm not sure if this warrants a response or not...but it kind of ticked me off, so here goes.

No. You may not reproduce my writing on your blog. Especially if the request comes in the form of a traumatically grammatically poor spam request. If you think I am an excellent writer and actually do want to feature my work, number 1, lay off the crack, number 2, do me the courtesy of actually sending me an email instead of a spam comment, and number 3, that's what linking is for. Even then, if I don't know you, the answer is no. My writing is mine - you may not claim what goes on in my head, and I'm pretty sure this would be an uncredited type situation.

I am aware of what scrapping is and if you are putting my work up somewhere else, I will find you. And I will resort to all sorts of unpleasantness that will probably end up with you going into witness protection just to get me to stop bombing your world. Trust me - not worth it. 

Allrighty then. Now that we have that unpleasantness out of the way, more writing coming up soon!

Check it out!

A New What the Hell India over at Following the Masala! Check it out here.

The Ballad of Daddy G

So...One of my more entertaining conversations on Twitter recently ended with my disclosing the fact that Daddy G and I met over the Internets. Laugh all you want, but it turned out well for me. After being asked if there was a blog post about it, I realized that no, no there was not. As inspiration is a spread a little thin around here, I thought I would share with you all how I ended up married to a Telugu Indian guy who is 6.5 years older than myself.

It all started back in 2000 (you can stop counting you bounders, I'm 31 and not at all scared of it) when I was an innocent young idiot ahem, I meant 18 year old. I had just moved out of my mom's house and into my very first apartment with a friend who would make a terrible room mate, yet is ironically still a friend. Being the young, nerdy virgin that I was back then, I was terribly interested in meeting some hot boy to spend some time with. Since I was (and to be honest still am to a degree) a wee bit socially awkward, I figured the internet would help me widen my search as I lived in the middle of nowhere in the US.

Lo and behold, with all of the other sick, ridiculous people (and there were tons - one proposed marriage in a first email!) who responded to my ad on Yahoo personals (oh shut up.), Daddy G was one of them.

We emailed for a few months because mama didn't raise no fool - the internets are dangerous. I figured we could just be friends as Daddy G is older than me and from a completely different locale in the world. A word to the wise for girls - if you feel it, age and distance won't matter to you, don't lie to yourself.

We went out for a movie and icecream because I was such a naive idiot I told him I didn't like coffee. Luckily for me, Daddy G was smart enough to offer something else. The rest, as they say, is history. I ended up falling hard for him and he fell for me too. 2.5 years later, we tied the knot and have lived mostly happily ever after.

So there you have it. An internet success story.

Lots of Useless Information

So. In yet another effort to avoid just selling the damn horse already, I'm posting a useless information post so all of you millions of fans can get to know me better.

1.  I am unabashedly in love with pomegranates. I find it very therapeutic to sit and peel them. I love eating them too.
2. On a side note to the above, I am desperately afraid that one day, a spider will jump out of the crown end of said pomegranate and bite my finger. This will doubtlessly lead to my finger necrotizing and falling off. I will end up a 9 finger gimp, unless it spreads and rots my hand off too. Too much Animal Planet maybe? I still check every time.
3. I love the fact that my husband is nuts about playing the guitar. This doesn't stop me from considering divorcing him when he plays the same riff or strum pattern for 4 hours in a row. Seriously.
4. Speaking of the devil, I met him on the Intertubes. More on this in another post.
5. I am not a cougar/cradle robber. I do, however, play one on Twitter. (I'm so sorry for being creepy Michael! I really do love your accent!)
6. I would give my right leg to have the discipline to start running again. Oh wait....
7. Speaking of which, my humor is often inappropriate, dark and convoluted. I don't care at all. I have been known to laugh at funerals, though I try to hide it as best as I can. Fist fights at a funeral are not fun.
8. A praying mantis crawled in my window the other day and watched me cook for a few hours. I'm all for peeping toms of the insect variety, but come on dude, at least catch some mosquitoes while you're at it.
9. I'm reading a book on microbiological immunity to antibiotics. And I am FASCINATED. Why yes, that is my nerd card pinned to my shirt.
10. I think I may miss cheap wine (not the cheap type wine, but wine not requiring me to promise my first born son. Even cheepie wine costs multiple limbs here) from the US more than I actually miss people. Alright, maybe not more, but damn it, it's a close second.

So. I'm not sure what exactly you'll do with this info....but enjoy. I'm headed into my weekend with some Old Monk and the promise of 4 screaming daughters/nieces. Hopefully all of you enjoy your weekend as much as I hope to enjoy mine!

On The Guys Who Aren’t Really Good for You: Bad Boys

Something that's been weighing on my mind lately. This is from a post I put up on another of my blogs a while back.

I have a thing for bad boys. At least in my head I do. I married a guy who couldn’t be an asshole Bad Boy if he tried – he just doesn’t have it in him. This is absolutely fine with me, I like stability. It does, however, lead my imagination to be more oriented on guys that I would never glance at twice in real life.

I’ll give you an example. Axl Rose in the 80’s. I would bang the ever loving shit out of that man in my head, but never put up with his crap in real life.

What is it about a man that looks at you with that intense emotion in his eyes. The one that leaves you half afraid/half hoping he’ll shove you up against a wall and take you right there because he just has to have you. Now. A man who owns his passion and throws a middle finger up at what the world thinks of it. It makes me hot every single time.

I even found a link online on how to be a bad boy: http://www.wikihow.com/Be-a-Bad-Boy
I’m not vouching for these suggestions, I just found it interesting. Some are better than others.

Boys, since I like you, I’m gonna break down ladies’ fascination with bad guys along with some tips on how to rock the attitude. Everyone whines that they bad boys win. Actually, it’s more complicated than that. Pussy boys always finish last, no matter what. Here’s some tips on how to be a bad boy without being bad for yourself or your girl:

1. Most importantly, you can be a bad boy without being an asshole. We don’t actually want you to act like assholes. Seriously. Don’t be a douche. We may stick around for a while for the sex if it’s hot, and for the fascination, but sooner or later, everyone gets tired of a man child that doesn't know how to act.
Sexual Self Confidence - the bad boy has it. He’s confident enough to own the passion and sexuality that radiates off of him. If you are confident in yourself and who you are, it makes us want you regardless of whether you are actually bad or not. Learn your own body (as if any guy doesn’t, ha!), and more importantly, learn her body and learn it well. It’s kind of hard to be confident about yourself if you don’t know where the important parts are. Making her get off should be like a mission for you. Do it gladly and without whining – you know you’re gonna get off anyways. After all, if the sex is good, she’s gonna want a repeat show more often, which is good for you both. 


2. Bad Boys don’t need permission to make decisions. With all the squawking lately about feminism and how we don’t like chauvinistic guys, we have sacrificed men who make confident decisions. Make a decision and be confident about it. As long as it’s not a major life decision, you don’t need permission/validation from us or anyone else all the time. Knock it off with the asking for permission constantly.

3. Bad boys own who they are, not what they aren't. Going back to Axl Rose. Do any of you think he’s less of a cocky, arrogant asshole now that he’s 50 and no longer owning the world? The answer is no. He still acts like the world is glad to have him around. If you’re a 45 year old bald, chunky accountant, you rock that for all it’s worth. Looks matter, but they matter far less than a man who is confident and comfortable with who he is. Know who you are, know what you’re good at and own that shit.

4. Bad boys aren’t afraid to get a little rough with their girl in bed. I’m not talking bruises or abuse or any crap like that, I’m talking about being passionate. The thing is, most girls are not made of porcelain, no matter how fragile she seems or how manly this makes you feel. Most girls love the thought that their man gets so excited that he gets a little out of control occasionally. Again, a very unfortunate byproduct of feminism. If tenderness is important to your girl, by all means keep a hold of that occasionally, but don’t be a pussy all the time. She needs to know that she makes you hot too. There’s a time for touchy feeley, tender sex, and there’s a time when you need to just handle your business.

5. Bad boys can appreciate a strong girl and protect a fragile one. Strong women are not a threat to your masculinity and are actually an asset to you. The more strong and confident a lady is, the better she can have your back. It’s hard to be a strong man if you don’t have anyone to lean on. If you find a good strong girl, I suggest you hold on to that. Sometimes a girl is fragile – that’s just a part of being a girl. Take care of her, but don’t baby her. There is nothing hotter for a lady than realizing a man can take care of her if he needs to. We need to know a man can club a dinosaur over the head for us if we’re threatened – or at least stand up for us in a bar if another guy is being an asshole. That is sexy. I know, it’s rather chauvinistic, but that’s the way it is.

6.Bad boys don’t let themselves be turned into bitches. This is going to offend some of you guys, but I tell it how it is. Do not be a bitch for any girl, no matter how hot she is. She should not be walking all over you. You are the man in the relationship, you should act like it. Unless you’re in it just for the sex, and there’s something to be said for that too, you should never let yourself or your girl make you feel like you matter less than she does in the relationship; you are equals. You will never have her respect or satisfaction of a good relationship if this gets lost. Respect yourself, and you’ll get respect from her. If you still don’t get any respect, I strongly suggest running away as fast as you can in the other direction.


I hope this has helped all you gents out there who whine that women always go for the bad ones. Yes, too many of us chicks have a fascination with that, but this can work in your favor without turning you into an asshole or tanking a relationship. Give it a try!

Becky

The Student Files, Episode 1: The Student Who Forgot he Has a Bathroom at Home

Hello Folks,

 I've again come to entertain you with some inanities that happen in my life.

I've been writing over at my other blog (Following the Masala) about a pretty funny run in with a newspaper if you'd like to read it here.

So. My student count now stands at 9, with the strong possibility of 10. I thought it would be fun to share some of the idiosyncracies that my students have. Some bring me great joy and entertainment, some make me want to tear my hair out. All names have been changed for my protection and are not indicitive of the order in which they joined lessons. Unfortunately, they are not Criminal Minds type cases as was suggested by one of my favorite Aussies, just entertaining kids.

I teach exclusively to students who live in the same apartment compex as we live in. As the complex can house about 500 families, there are no shortage of kids around. Now, I don't know if I need to explain this or not, but all the apartments here have bathrooms; most of them more than one. Student 1 came to me as a referral and had taken piano lessons before. They live 2 floors up from me. He is a very cute, polite, bright eyed 8 year old boy. I found it rather odd that 5 minutes into his first lesson, he asked to use the bathroom. I figured no biggy, he probably just forgot to go before he came. He went into the bathroom for all of 3.2 seconds (including washing his hands) and came back. I found this amusing, but we just went on with the lesson.

The next week came with a repeat performance. And another in the same lesson. Every week since, he has made a trip to the bathroom.

At first, I wondered why he wasn't just using the bathroom at home. I suppose there could be some valid reason for this. However, I have my own kids and I understand that sometimes, kids get bored and they come up with some pretty intelligent ways of getting the time to pass by faster.  I came to figure out that this was what was going on. It doesn't bother me - we always finish off the work we need to do for his lesson. It's more one of those things that just isn't worth making any kind of deal about at all.  As long as we can finish off his lesson and the work we need to do he's welcome to use the restroom.

Becky

The Cat just Dragged Me Back In

Well well well. Look who’s dragged herself back onto blogger with her head hanging down. That’s right folks, it’s me.  Oh, and Blogger, I'm afraid you suck even worse than I do for not even keeping up with all these lovely people who leave encouraging comments for me. Erasing my nice witty comments is never a good way to earn brownie points with me. Kinda makes me stabby.

Soooo. I have been meaning to write for the week that has passed since I last wrote, but (insert various excuses here). I think I’m going through a dry spell over here. There are definitely times when I just can’t shut the hell up, but I also have times when there’s nothing but tumbleweeds rolling around in my brain. And as much as I love writing, you guys don’t need to be forced to sit through rambling that is more inane than usual – even I don’t want to listen to it. I do greatly appreciate all of your nice comments and encouragement, even if I didn’t comment back. See Blogger sucking. I figured it was just best to write another post.

I am now up to 7 (count em 7!) piano students with the strong possibility of acquiring 2 more in the next few days.  I can’t tell you how thrilling it is to continue to watch this project grow – I never imagined it would grow like this. I can tell you this – never since highschool have I looked forward to the weekend so much. All of you fabulous people who have real full time office jobs can stop rolling your eyes at me now. Trust me, my sister in law has this covered for you.

Aside from this business, Daddy G has absconded to the US. He’ll be back next weekend. I’m still rather disgruntled that he’s able to take long hot showers, but I am super enjoying having the bed all to myself. It’s absolutely glorious. Strangely enough, I don’t seem to miss him that much this time. Probably something to do with being so bloody busy all the time. What I do not like is being once again the only responsible adult in our house as my daughter’s exam time comes around. I’m not sure who the genius was that decided it was a good idea to give 8 year olds a unit test covering everything they learned since July…but you suck some serious donkey balls. Of course Daddy G is trying to pull his usual armchair dictatorship over what and how long she should study. I am doing my part and dutifully ignoring him. Hey, if you’re not in the same hemisphere…you kinda lose your right to drive me nuts about what the kids should be doing.

There has been a sinfully drinkable bottle of wine, which I shamelessly downed by myself last weekend (Sweet baby mashed potatoes that bitch was lovely), and there has been Old Monk rum. Lots of it. In case you aren’t familiar, it actually comes in a glass bottle shaped like a monk. This tickled me to no end. There has been drunken walking. Actually, there has been lots of walking and not all of it in an alcoholic haze. I’ve been trying to shape up a bit more and have been walking regularly at night. It would be lovely if my Ipod didn’t insist on being the world’s biggest whiney bitch and running out of batteries after 2 songs. Note to self – it’s time to find the apple store.

I’ve been trying to keep up with some of you on Twitter, although I am pretty stupid when it comes to Twitter. Like saying something only to figure out someone else said exactly the same thing a page down.  My apologies people, I’m getting there. But do give me a holler if you’re on twitter and we’re not stalking each other.

Not much else has been new around here. My apologies for the tumbleweed post. I promise to keep an eye out for some more interesting things to talk about. Perhaps we’ll start a series on Student Files. Like the kid who asks to use the bathroom every time he comes for a lesson.  Should be good fun.  

Becky