Why, yes!
Thank-you…
At least that’s what you should say to make them feel better for shelling out $109.00!
Plus tax!
Possums, I had a bad dream.
Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was chasing me, trying to flag me with his trousers down and his manhood 
out! Money was spewing out of his anus, as if I won at the slot machines! Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was waving his pecker wood at me to take it and I just couldn’t. I wouldn’t!
It wasn’t the first time I turned down a penis.
Just in my dreams.
I called my Aunt, who lived close to where the incident took place. I had gone there immediately after it happened. So, I knew that I could call her if I needed comforting. She has been there for me, through thick and thicker.
“It’s probably because you are Black,” she stated.
“Black?” I asked.
“You, don’t know the girls around here, dear. These men think that these girls will do anything for any amount of money! And they probably do. Just the other day, a man approached me and I thought he was asking for directions. I should have known better!” answered my Aunt.
“Really?” I asked.
“Well, how big did it look?” asked Auntie.
“What look?” I asked.
“His stuff? The man in the dream?” she asked, I could hear the clacking of her knitting stop.
“Auntie!”
“Like I said. Many girls would have said yes if they were in your place,” said my Aunt. “How much would you have charged?”
“Why? Are you planning on becoming my manager?” I asked.
“Can you imagine?” asked my Auntie, the clicking sounds of the needle starting up again.
“Auntie, I don’t know. Maybe I am putting too much sexual stuff out there,” I said.
“Well, at least you know you have a career you could fall back on!”
Possums, it is a shame when you look in the mirror and the image of you looks pregnant.
Talk about Mad Cow Disease!
Speaking of Mad Cow, I am on a new diet! It is called the Food Inc. diet! I have shunned everything that had a snout or big eyes with long eyelashes, before it hit my plate!
How Pamela Anderson of me!
I am especially avoiding all meat that has had a history of wrangling with another cock! And
although we share the same history, of wrangling with cock, I am now done with cock too! No more cock for me! Print that in bold- Lucresia Linton is done with cock!
When you watch the documentary Food Inc. it will definitely change your mind about where your food comes from! When I saw the farmhand put its hands around the cock and just kept on tugging on the cock. Well….it may sound better to read it in print, but it isn’t! When the farmhand took the cock, and then broke it! The poor soul! I tried to tell myself that God created these animals to be devoured. They were meant to give us sustenance and energy. Not, companionship! Cocks are not suppose to be your friend! That is why you never see those PETA people or Pamela Anderson, for that matter, get their face too close to the cock.
Well….
That’s why I never understood why some people eat dog. Dogs, now they are our friends, not cock. Possums, have you ever got real close to a cock? Do you realize that they will peck you right out of the blue?
Where do you think they got the phrase, “pecker wood” from?
And when you are there staggering about, as a small child, trying to make sense of it all and when you turn to your mother for comfort, she chastises and reminds you that all of your country bumpkin cousins are looking at you and you couldn’t care less about these cousins, who clearly have no choice, but to run around with no shoes on, and it is not your fault that they only get shoes twice a year-at the beginning of the school season and at Christmastime, but all that don’t matter to you, so you instead run to your daddy, cause that what daddies are for, to comfort you in your time of need and you are so glad, as he gives you a great big hug, that you are less than five days away from being at home where there are more than two television channels, hot showers, McDonald’s and Sesame Street!
Not that it happened to me.
It is just a for instance!
After I watched Food Inc. and made a declaration about the cock to myself, I went to go sit in my Buddha-filled and zebra patterned-touched bathroom. All of the sudden, my eyes gazed upon my bamboo basket that contained a copy of W Magazine with the model Lara Stone looking at me.
Miss Stone is the new phenom in the fashion world, due to the fact that she is between a size 4 and 6, as oppose to the models that are between a size 0 and 2. I can relate to Miss Stone. I, myself, am between sizes 4…and 16. I know that I may be stretching the pole slightly, but sometimes it is good to up and down a pole!
Ha!
Lara Stone used to be an old-hat.
Apparently, she was modeling for many years to the point that the jobs were beginning to dry up. Upon taking the advice of her man, Miss Stone switched agencies who re-packaged her as if she was all brand-spanking new and sent her out on go-sees. And although deep down inside she knew all the clients already knew she had been around for a long time, she still kept her head up and strutted like her life depended on it!
Possums, they say that when God gives you oranges, you should take them down the road to old Mrs. Fuqua for her to turn them into marmalade! Cause like marmalade, change in your life, should be shared! You see Possums, God knew that one day the world was going to be ready for Miss Stone even before Miss Stone knew it! He used her boyfriend as a conduit to ignite the fire in her soul to never give up on her passion to model.
Lesson here Possums, is to use anything, whether it be a friend or a foe to fan the flame of your passion!
It is so exciting to see that the industry is realizing that it is really the clothes that make the woman. For so many years, it seemed that the model/woman was starting to slowly diminish, in order to make the clothes stand out more. The figure of a woman was left to just being no more than a hanger, while, women like myself and Miss Stone, sat on the sidelines and mended our time as clothes horses. How long will this change last? Will we break under the pressure to keep up the stamina of change?
As I looked back at the cover, a thought came to me-“They shoot clothes horses don’t they?”
Possums.
Oh, Possums.
Yesterday, I felt like a common whore!
I know that you are probably asking, “What day don’t she feel like one?”
Like hell I say to that!
Oh Possums, the day started off nice enough, calm even. I awoke and Ava made myself a buttermilk pancake and a cup of espresso. The only thing I planned to do, was go out and test out mattresses.
Possums, did I tell you I need a new mattress?
I have worn out my mattress, to the point that I am starting to feel the springs, and I don’t know if it has to do with the car accident, but my back is hurting a lot more that it has too! It is not as if there was a flux of recent activity on it. It has been spread out evenly over the years.
I think I need to write the manufacturer or something.
Or something….okay, there has been a flux of activity on it, but I am not going to tell the people at Sleep Country Canada that!
You know who are just as bad as car salesmen? Mattress salesmen!
As soon as you go into their establishment, they are on you like shiny taffeta on a bad bridesmaid’s dress!
I tried to give them a polite “No”. But, not with this salesman I ran into. He wouldn’t take “No” for an answer! It wasn’t enough for me to just sit on the edge of the bed. He wanted me to lie back on it. Bounce on it, even! And every time I finished bouncing on the bed, he would then ask me, “So, how does that one feel?”
And again I would say, while trying not to laugh, and on purpose, “It is not hard enough. I like it hard!”
Then he did what every salesman does- he me asked what was my budget.
Possums, never, ever, let a salesman know your budget! This ain’t no whorehouse! The reason being is that when they know your budget, they will then “pad” up the price, like a bad girdle! Don’t tell em! That way you are the madam and they are the “girls”. They will end up giving you all the “extras” without you having to do much.
Remember that!
Also, remember that a good choice phrase of- “I am sorry, I can’t possibly make a decision right now without my husband/wifey. He/She handles the purse-strings,” makes them back-off!
It works like a charm.
But, of course!
Then Mr. Mattress Man gave me his card, wrote down his price on how low he would go and then I went on with the rest of my day.
Or so I thought.
You know Possums, God has a way of showing you different themes that are playing in your life. What I mean is that what you speaketh you attract. Non? I tried to haggle the price for my mattress at different places. But, now I was going to get “haggled” in a different way.
I was just about to head home from the mattress outlet when I looked down between my legs and noticed that something looked raggedy. The stuff between my legs still had its color, Black of course, but it looked tired and used up. And since I was wearing a shorter skirt, I could see this all very easily.
It was beyond the wear and tear…
Wait.
Possums, what did you think I was talking about?
I was referring to the carpet mat belonging to my car!
Ha!
Anywhoo, I remembered that I saw that car mats were on sale at the local Canadian Tire Shop. For those not in Canada, think Pep Boys. It took me forever, but I finally found the section that held the car mats. I was just lightly fingering one to check its quality, when all of the sudden I heard this man started to shout out in anger. Apparently, he was upset with their service. And apparently, he was Jamaican, cause he sounded like one of my uncles when they are sounding off at an abomination! Well, I looked up and saw a dapper little Indian man coming towards me. (Side Note: I am not being racist. I may be politically incorrect for stating what his race was, but Possums, A. I believe, as a writer, I have to provide the best visuals. B. You know that I am always politically incorrect and so, I am gonna be as such!)
But, I digress.
So, the short Indian man, who was dressed real nice, looked to be around his late twenties. But, after what he tried, I almost knocked him to his early thirties!
As I said, he came towards me, smiling. I smiled back assuming he was smiling about the way the other man was yelling in the background. The store was now calling for Security to go to the Auto Parts section and the yelling man was hollering for them that they better bring on Security cause he was going to need Security to hold him back!
So, Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man came right up to me and was like whispering in my ear, “Hi, hoasidhfoalweofaod?”
And I was like, “I am sorry I can’t hear you. What did you say?”
And then Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was like, “I was wondering if adljfaoiwfnieona?”
And Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man was like, “You see this spark plug, I am going to take this and LIGHT THIS UNDER YOUR MAN BEHIND THE COUNTER’S ASS!”
And I was like, “Pardon me? What did you say? You are going to have to speak a little louder, sir.”
And then Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was like, “How much you charge?”
And Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man was like, “Go ahead, you better call the manager, UP IN HERE! CAUSE YOU ALL AIN’T GOT NO MANNERS!”
And I was like, “Charge? For what?”
And then Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was like, “Charge to go home with me now? For some sex?”
And Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man was like “Yeah, you better make sure you catch this on your cameras, cause you see my face? You will never see it up in here ever again! You are a bunch of sorry mothers in here!”
And I was like, “Excuse you! I don’t do that! What kind of girl do you think I am!”
And then Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was like, “I am very good. I pay good money. I give you extra.”
And Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man was like “I am talking about mother-f**kers, you dummy! Not about your mother! You know what? Your momma, then! YOUR MOMMA!”
And I was like, “Are you friggin kidding me? Get away from me!”
And then Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man was like, “Don’t be like that. Come home with me.”
And then it got quiet in the background and Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man turned into just Mr. Jamaican Man.
I dropped the car mat down and backed away from Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man, but the Jigga man was now following me to the front of the store!
I walked quickly over to the customer service desk and found myself in a long line. I was not about to broadcast it over some people’s shoulders that a man was following and begging me for sex! I turned and tried to go through the one cashier that was open and ended up facing another line. This one had Mr. Jamaican Man who used to be Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man in it.
“I am sorry, but I need to get pass you, please,” I told Mr. Jamaican Man.
“What’s wrong, Miss Lady? You look stressed?”
“A man is following me!” I told him.
“I don’t blame him. You are very beautiful.”
I smiled and thanked him. (Side Note: What a nice young man. He had such nice eyes and a nice smile.)
“But, he is trying to ask me for sex! And he wants to pay for it!” I told him and apparently everyone. Cause all of the sudden my peripheral vision opened up and now I had an audience! I don’t know if it was because they missed the chance to buy tickets to my aisle show, but all the sudden everyone turned around and started to yell and glare at Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man.
“Come here, so I can shoot you two box upside your head!” screamed Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man.
Well, Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man looked at everyone and took off out of the store!
And then Little Miss Cashier Girl called Mr. Big Fancy Man In His Manager Pants and told him what had happened to me. They both would not let me leave for five whole minutes. They wanted to make sure that the man was way gone.
As customers walked away with their purchases, they turned around to wish me well. Mr. Big Fancy Man In His Manager Pants and Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man escorted me to my car. They both chatted and laughed with me as we walked.
Possums, did I sink their Battleship?
As I headed to my car, I looked over my shoulder to see the Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man climb into his white Acura. He wasn’t going anywhere!
I jumped into the car, breathless.
“What’s happened?” asked Ava.
“Ava, do I look like a hooker?”
“No, of course you don’t!” she answered.
I told her what happened. I told her about Mr. Hollering Yelling Jamaican Man and what the Little Mr. Dapper Indian Man wanted from me.
“I mean look what I got on! I couldn’t even pass for a high-class call girl!”
“You got that right!” she agreed. “Anyways, don’t worry about it. Try to put it out of your head.” she answered.
I started the car.
“Didn’t he know that I would never do what he asked without dinner and a movie first?”
All of the sudden it was quiet.
I looked over at Ava and she was staring at me with an incredulous look on her face.
For what?
I don’t know.
I think a Pygmy would make a fine boyfriend!
You see Possums, with Basketball players, their penises are usually long, but on the skinny side.
Baseball players, their penises are usually on the smaller, but muscular side.
Football players’ penises are usually on the tiny stubby side because the meat is mostly in their shoulders.
And Curling players’ penises are usually on the…well… you know they kind of curl.
To the right.
Depending what side they play on.
Not that I really know all this.
I was never a team player.
Have you seen my curves?
It is just a for instance!
But, think of the Pygmy man. I don’t think it is a question of vitamins or enough milk. Obviously, it is a question of genetics. But, the meat would be where it is supposed to be, not too much on top, but all down below.
I think that the bonus here would be that sex will be lest time consuming. Do you know that most Pygmies don’t grow more than 4 feet 11 inches? And while I have a penchant for men that are taller than me, this man would probably only come up to my breasts and other worldly regions, which I could definitely work to my advantage. Why have him go through all the trouble of having to work his way up? He can stay down there as long as he and I need him to be.
They say that the Pygmy people are forest dwellers. And if they know the forest so well, then they will be fond of bushes. A woman’s bush! They say they also love animals, which may or may not pose a problem. If we go to a park to be at one with nature, while I’ll be running away from pigeons, he will probably run towards them.
Another bright side, is that we could both share accessories. Looking at photos of the Pygmy men, they seem to wear just as much jewelry as the next woman, or man, come to think of it. I think that it is nice when men accessorize. And it is a shame that more men don’t do it! A nice wooden necklace shaped into an elephant tusk and some simple loin cloth can go a long way! I mean many women spent thousands of dollars on the look many years ago at Yves St. Laurent. With the exchange rate going the way it is, I could bring back the look for free!
But, deep down inside I know that such a relationship wouldn’t work because I would be the one who would wear the bigger pants of the two. Possums, believe it or not, but many a man out there don’t like to have their manhood stepped on. And since he would be the smaller of both of us, that means he may just get stepped on a lot!
But of course!
Possums, being that it is still the recession et al, I wondered to myself if there was any way to save here, and like Italian men, pinch there.
The other day, I woke up late and Miss Ava and I decided to go to a local restaurant for the All- Day breakfast. I know deep down inside that going to restaurants a lot is not responsible, money-wise. So Possums, I have taken to heating up left-overs. My breakfast restaurant left-overs, that is! Well, I didn’t heat it up, but I made Ava offered to do it. And then she heated up the sausage really high because she says that she fears me getting food poisoning.
I can’t believe I am going to say this, but you know that I love me some sausage. But left-over sausage? Not so much! It is so hard, that it tastes almost bitter in your mouth! So, hard, the sausage is!
Possums, I ask you- how does a woman take another woman’s man? The sausage is never the same!
Remember that!
But, I still wasn’t cutting back as much as I could, so I came up with the brilliant idea of turning my bedroom escapades into a mini spa! Think about it, if I need a pedicure I can just get him to do it! Possums, many a man can’t pass up fondling a woman’s feet. You can even get him to choose the color if you dare!
If I need a massage, I could just ask for one. What is the point of having all that massage oil in my “never-you-mind-Ava” drawer? And if I play my cards quite nicely, and mush up some papaya and avocado in a bowl, I could get him to rub the stuff all over my face and body and then afterwards we could wash it of
f in the shower, together. He will think that I am being my usual “inventive” self, when all I was really trying to do was bring a little spa back in to my life, proper.
I have also given up getting my nails done, so my companions will just have to make do with me scratching their backs with something hard like those back scratchers or I could give him a love bite, instead.
How very Twilight of me!
I am not about to get rid of my love for all things hair, nor will I give up my love for all soft cheeses. I usually hate things that are soft, but nothing taste better than some blue cheese spread out on a whole wheat cracker!
But, I digress.
And if I am in need of a wax…
Well…
I am still thinking about that one. Maybe, I could just start on him, instead. He wouldn’t have to pay me for my services because it would be benefiting the both of us, and mankind, come to think of it, cause Possums, there are many a men out there who have a lot of hair on their backs!
Still!
And Possums, when I talk of hairy back, am referring to Robin Williams type of hairy. I don’t know how men just pay attention in getting rid of the hair in the front of their face, but not in the back! I mean, whenever I try on something, I never step away from the mirror without checking how the electric bogaloo looks behind me! Anyhoo, back hair repels me. It is right up their with hairy knuckles.
But, of course!
So, maybe I could then offer men spa services, too because I get real itchy if I kiss a guy with a beard. That is also why I know that I could never go down on a fully-bearded woman. I would use the “look-ma-no-hands”method-all machine and no thumbs!
A tit for a tat?
I say!
I know that the “Five Stages” are supposed to be helpful when dealing with grief.
But, I ask you, could that be applied to any type of grief?
Stage One-Denial
“Spinach, again?” I asked yesterday, as I watched Ava sit down with another plate of spinach in front of her.
Stage Two-Anger
This is getting ridiculous!
But, let me tell you how I could never get Miss Ava to eat even an ounce of spinach before, let alone look at it!
Possums, I don’t even think she likes the color green! Now, don’t get me wrong, I love me some spinach! But, it has to go with scrambled eggs, a side of bacon, a small stack of toast and some orange juice just to wash it down!
And now that since Ms. Seyfried has declared that spinach and only spinach, was going to help her shed her pounds, that is all that Ava has been eating! I know that I am being silly, but Possums, I didn’t realize that there really was a “raw” part of the diet.
When you turn down good food in my house, that I had to sweat over, push my hair back, wipe my brow and lovingly make that phone call to my favorite Chinese restaurant, then hell’s gonna pay! Okay, I only ordered a side of plain fried rice and some steamed veggies. But, Possums, I made my famous award-winning (okay only in my mind) fried chicken. I had to wash the chicken in vinegar and water, and then I made a nice “chicken rub” of seasoning salt, parsley, oregano, garlic and onion. Then, I had to roll the chicken into the egg, then the rub, and at last the flour. And then bake it in the oven. So, you can figure where the anger was stemming from!
Stage Three-Bargaining
“Where’s my spinach?” asked Ava.
“Tonight, you are going to take a break from “your spinach”. Ava, just because Miss Skinny-ninny said that all she was going to yam was spinach, doesn’t mean that it is all you gonna eat too!” I told her.
“Why not?” she asked.
You know Possums, they say in life when a child asks you a tough question, you need to do everything you can to not only question everything they put in front of you, but pepper them with knowledge at the same time. In other words, play water with fire! (Side Note: Just to let you know, I am the only holding the bucket of water!)
“Do you want to be bulimic?” I asked her.
“Bulimic?”
“It is when you eat your food, my food and a half a cupboard of snacks and THEN you make yourself throw up!”
“What does that do?”
“You never gain weight!”
“Umm…”
“Forget that!” I told her. “Do you know the facts of anorexia, Ava?”
“I know that-,” she started and I pulled a Kanye on her. I was not going to let her finish!
“Miss Ava, do you want your period to stop?” I asked.
“Yes, then I won’t get no more pains every month,” she answered.
“I guess!!! Yeah, those period pains are painful, aren’t they?” I said.
“ Miss Ava, do you want your clothes to hang off you like a hanger?” I asked.
“Yes, cause then I can fit into a size two,” she answered.
“I guess!!! Yeah, fitting in a size two would be nice. It seems that most designers are not cutting the cloth the way they used to. Non?” I said.
“But, Miss Ava, do you want your bones to stick out all over the place?” I asked.
“Yes, then everyone will notice that I have high cheekbones!” she answered.
“I guess!!! I, myself have always wanted those chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw-lines of Miss Sophia Loren. Remember I played her all last year and two months of this year?” I said.
“But, Miss Ava, do you want to lose all your coloring in your face?” I asked.
“Yes, then maybe the blemishes on my face will get lighter!” she answered.
“I guess!!! I do have a little trouble with covering up the odd blemish I get here and there. If it wasn’t for my bronzer, I wouldn’t know what to do!”
Stage Four-Depression
“I just want to look a bit skinner. Remember, all that attention those boys gave that girl yesterday when she was walking by them in the mall? She had really skinny thighs and a large space between her legs. I want that!” said Ava.
“Ava, let me tell you something that I realized a long time ago.”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Come close.”
“Closer.”
“A little closer.”
And then for dramatic effect, so that she could remember this for the rest of her life, I put about five inches of space between her face and mine (don’t worry, I didn’t eat the chicken, yet) and I said to her, “You may think that you want to be one of those girls who have a big space between their legs when they walk. But, let me tell you, Ladybird, one of the sweetest things to a man is when you are in a mist of making love and you have enough strength to wrap your legs around his waist and squeeze it tight! Another thing, no man is ever thinking if there is space between your thighs, when you walk. He is only thinking that there better be something there in that said space that is holding the whole damn thing together! Remember that!”
And with that I turned and went into the bathroom.
Stage Five-Acceptance
I then remembered one thing.
“Ava?” I called from the bathroom.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to be left with a smaller chest than what you have? Cause when you lose a ton of weight, right quick, they tend to detach themselves and float away”
“Ava?”
“Ava?”
“Hello, Miss Ava?”
I walked into kitchen only to hear the sound of the microwave going off.
“I see you’re eating the pizza, you refused last night.”
“Yes,” she answered in between bites.
“It has Chicken, Feta… and Spinach on it.”
Lucresialinton.com is a blog by Jazz singer, Lucresia Linton about God, sex, relationships, men, women and love. Lucresia Linton's aim is to reach, teach, squeeze, inspire, and learn from the world. Miss Linton is looking to talk with like-minded individuals in the hope that somewhere out there is a depth-defying, soul shaking love.
The truth?
One day Miss Ava turned to her and told her that she heard all her stories.
Every single one.
Heartbroken, Lucresia Linton decided to turn to the internet. She believes that if God gives you lemons, then you must order your very rude child to make you a pitcher of lemonade and go find an audience elsewhere!
Miss Linton lives by the motto- "Let your life be a testimony to all that walk the face of the earth."
Miss Linton wants you to know that yes, she thought of that quote all by herself!
*Yes, Miss Linton likes to call her friends, "Possums". She has to have a nickname for everything! She was already using "Beaver" for something else.
***Yes, Miss Linton welcomes all comments, but if they are rude then don't bother. She is a sensitive soul, in other words, irrational, and she will put you in a web cock-hold without given it a moment's thought!
à toute à l'heure!
Possums,
Come do moi and I will do you at twitter.com/lucresialinton
See you then.
L.
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