No matter where you go, there you are..

So, it's been awhile since I have written a blog and that sucks. I apologize readers. So much has happened, so let's take it back to Labor Day weekend. It was a good weekend, and I had a great time at Voodoo with everyone. The posse was looking amazing of course.

These past few weeks has been about work, and me trying to figure out what I am looking for in myself, and what I'll be doing next. Let's take a trip to Man Land! (Otherwise known as, the Bullshit Bonanza!)

Steph and Sag Balls tried to set me up with Sag Ball's best friend Sean. He had had an interest in me for awhile, and I always thought he was a nice enough guy. He'd been hitting on me for months, but I never reciprocated because I was so wrapped up in Mr. Charles. (Who we'll be getting to later. Oh, the drama.) So anyway, I went ahead and told Steph to give him my number cause, really, what did I have to lose? (You can tell by that statement right there, that this little story won't end well.)

So, the first night we hung out he picked me up, cooked for me, we watched Casino and Heat and laughed and had a good time. He's a good listenener for the most part, and he was respectful of my space. Those are the good things. Let's now talk about the bad:

1. He wouldn't give me his phone number. Apparently, the cell phone he had was not his, and he would have to give it back soon so he didn't want me to have the number. Everytime he called me, it was from a private number. So that means, he had access to me whenever he wanted, but not vice versa. Strike one!

2. I have a big thing with punctuality and people doing what they say they are going to do. If you make plans with me to hang out, you'd better show up or giving me the respect of calling to let me know the deal. This chicken leg mothefucker stood me up two days after we first hung out, AND he didn't bother to call me and tell me why. Strike two!

3. He blew me off for football. I can't even get in depth with this one, because it'll piss me off all over again. He called me the next night to try and explain, but I already got all the info from other sources and told him that that wasn't going to work for me.

Know this: I HAVE NO TOLERANCE FOR BULLSHIT. NONE.

If I don't need you in my life, you won't be there. So I just told him it wouldn't ever work out, and we said our goodbyes. He's friends with Sag Balls anyway, and you are who you associate with friendwise. If you're friends with a bunch of lame assholes, chances are good you're a lame asshole too.

Now, on to this past weekend. I saw Mr. Marine again. He found me in the club and tried to be all nice and social despite the fact he ignored me for months because I told him I liked Mr. Charles. At least I was honest! I could have went along sleeping with Mr. Charles while I talked to Mr. Marine. But it's hard enough to keep track of one person you're talking to, let alone fifty. (I'm looking at you, SANTIAGO! Love you boo.)

So he came out and tried talking to me, but his only usefulness was getting me and my friends free drinks. I blew him off right away. Do I have a loser sign tacked to my forehead?! Please dating gods, no more losers.

And speaking of potential losers, let's get into Mr. Charles. He called last night and we had an hour plus conversation. He told me about his new job, and he wants to have me visit him at the end of October. He'll be paying for the hotel and different expenses, and I would just have to pay for my plane ticket.

Now, I know I said he and I were done. But.....why can't we be done after a little sex, hmm? I haven't been with a lot of guys (not that you needed to know that), and of the guys I have been with he was hands down the best dick I've ever had. Once I go up there, I can tell him face to face how I feel. We can clear all the air and decide to be long distance platonic friends, or whatever.

On paper he has so many qualities I don't like in men I choose to date. But, I can't deny the way I feel, and neither should he. So, I think I might go. Or not. Shit, I can't make that decision yet.

Onto things that really matter outside of my little world: fashion and music.

If you watched the VMAs this past Sunday you know how much of a general yawn fest it was. I mean, give me some show MTV! The only entertaining performances were Pink's, Christina's, Rihanna's, her duet with T.I. and Paramore. Everything else was a hot mess.

Fashion Rocks 5 was on last night, and all I wanted to do was take a bucket of fried chicken and give it to all the models. SHITEOUS. Otherwise, I loved it.

Rachael Zoe's new show debuted last night. And even though she's a human female version of Skeletor from He-Man, she can style like a motherfucker. Shout outs to Joy Bryant in the red Zac Posen. Loves it.

So, that's all for now folks. Men: keep your dick up. Ladies: keep the style hot.

Fashiontastically yours,

Ms. Dimes

P.S. Can we send out a message to all celebs who create fashion lines and perfumes? STOP.