mauri of me #20 ~ dance

I have never been a lover of exercise. And before all the exercise dieting buffs give Me a lecture on the benefits of those 2 things, let Me tell yah why I don’t like them … as only I can 😉

a. I have a theory that both of these things, exercise and dieting, are a ploy to make money. Back in the day, my ancestors hunted, gathered, chopped down trees, gardened etc. They didn’t have time for Pilates or Jogging. This tells Me:

  • We now do less ‘activity’.
  • Our version of ‘productive’ has changed.

Dieting was also non-existent. We ate what we had; what we had worked hard to grow and hunt. And our rates of heart disease and diabetes were … Nil.

Now We expend our energies on making money to go to the shop to buy crap food to kill whilst cooking, thus depleting its nutritional value, so we can fill up and sit on our asses until Pilates class.

These 2 things put profits into someone elses pocket and benefit Me, How?

b. I don’t run (aka exercise). I don’t enjoy it. I don’t like it. It doesn’t make sense to me. I run to, or from something. Like, to – the toilet. And, from – the police. Thats it.

c. I don’t diet (aka reduce carbs etc). I don’t enjoy it. I don’t like it. Why take away good food (whole foods, organics) and replace them with shit food? I don’t do nuts and legumes. I do do whole milk, fresh coffee beans, greens from my garden, organic meat, fresh fruit. Oh, and M&Ms 😉

d. Over exertion speeds up my heart rate which feels just like a good old panic attack. Why do that?

However …

I have always been a lover of dance.

Some would say thats exercise … and sure, you can categorise it as such. But its also a thing of joy and beauty.

My Nan was a dancer. I’m pretty sure I’ve written a post about her love for dance before, but I’m to lazy to find it at the moment 😉 She saw the love for dance and music in Me, when I was little. When I was about 6 or 7, she paid for Ballet lessons for Me; right up until I was 14 or 15 I think, when I got pregnant with my first child.

The thing with dance … as most cultures will attest too … there is something extremely liberating and cathartic and freeing and expression-ful (pretty sure thats not a word, but oh well lol), about it.

After I got pregnant, my dancing stopped. I went back to it in my 20s and then found I was pregnant with my second girl and was possibly going to miscarry … so the dancing stopped again.

When I left my husband, I wanted to go back to classes and eventually either apply to the Ballet School or teach. Instead, after quite a few ‘hiccups’, I had a nervous breakdown instead ;).

So instead of dance school, I got drunk and danced my ass off every night, 7 nights a week. I didn’t realise it then, but I needed to dance. And it was probably my saviour.

When I sobered up and turned into an anxiety ridden pts(d) freak, my dancing stopped, again.

That was just over 10 years ago.

I’ve been missing it for about the last 3 years, but haven’t had the energy, physically, but mainly, mentally, to go back to it.

So, it occurs to Me the other day, that the urge I have for it is returning … hard. And instead of reasoning out the hows and whys and why can’ts and so forths … I took a leaf from the melenials hand book (because they can do anything, cos no-one has told them they can’t!) … and googled it and then YouTubed it.

I typed in what I liked in the way of dance … what I wanted etc. And I came up with ‘Drag Queens Burlesque’. LOL. Now I’m not anti that At All … but is that available here in hicksville? Nope.

But it got Me thinking.

I love what Drag Queens do. I love their exuberance; their passion; the joy they seem to exude and ooze. I guess I could start my own Drag Queen thing, but as a straight brown girl just trying to find a niche? 😉

Ok, so back to the googling.

And then I struck upon Yanis Marshall.

Now I’m a little late to that party … obviously.

But Oh My Fuck … This filled Me with so much happiness and excitement; and I found my desire to dance again. Not just a whimsical wanting … but a definite … Must Do.

I’ve posted this dude before, but heres another sample:

His links are on his videos, so check them out if you’re interested.

But any who … As I was watching … I realised … I have this training … and I have this ability … and I have the passion for dance …

I am slightly unfit … Ok, really unfit lol … which took Me back to the ‘exercise’ question/theory. Would I exercise to get fit enough to be able to do this?


Then I watched this:

And I remembered just how hard it is to be a dancer … but how beautiful it is … and that when you love something that much … its not hard, its not ‘exercise’, its not work … but its all of those things … its Dance 🙂

So, this is Me 🙂

I’m taking on the Dance part of Me again.

And guess what … strangely enough … I am super fucking excited 😉

Yes, I may break a few things … and yes, I probably will have more than a few panic attacks as I figure out whats over exertion and whats pts fucking d; and Yes, I will be sore as fuck, for a very long while …

But I don’t give a fuck.

I love dance … and I’m tired of waiting to ‘be alright’.

I remember my Nan saying she missed dancing … and even when she was in her 80s she would still waltz around the lounge room when she was ‘in the mood’. I wanna do that … but in heels lol … No seriously … I want to still be dancing right up until I croak … I’ve taken a long enough break I think 😉


i’d rather go blind ~ etta james

I’d Rather Go Blind ~ Etta James, 1968

Thank you Cory for inspiring this one with your 45s collection 🙂

Go check out Cory’s Stories,Photos, Reviews and Videos.


mauri of me #19 shoe porn

I was thinking about stuff I like … shit that makes Me feel Nice … Yah know … Just to add to my ‘365 reasons to smile’ mojo …

So I decided to google #shoeporn … because shoes are just one of most favourite-est things … well good shoes that is.

Any who … I was quite disgusted, nay appalled, at what our millennials believe is a good shoe, be-fitting the hashtag slash title of “Shoe Porn”.

Apparently a sneaker, that looks similar to what I could buy at K Mart for $14, but said sneaker has a teensy tiny little label on it, that alludes to the possibility of that shoe being a Louis Vuitton; but not actuals … well that shit is classed as ‘shoe porn’. Wtf right?

Now I’m No expert in shoes … however, there are a couplely things that place a shoe (for Me anyways) in the Shoe Porn Zone.

A. They’ve gotta be sexy. … and I don’t mean hooker boot sexy; I mean classy, Italian,  Yanis Marshall dancing in them, sexy.

B. They’ve gotta suit your feet. They’ve gotta suit You.

Now, my Nan was my shoe fettish idol. She had heels for miles and her feet had arches like Naomi Campbell. I loved watching her get all dressed up to the nines, with the heels that perfectly accompanied her outfit. She was my version of quintessential elegance.

Shoes became something that I gravitated towards and unknowingly collected like other peeps collect little ceramic angels that gather dust on their shelves. Shoes were my go-to for elegance and relief. I’m a dress from the shoe up kind of girl; meaning the shoes are everything … except for the, ‘how’ you wear them.

For Me – Shoes are an Art unto themselves 😉

Heres a little sample of what I’m referring too.

by Gucci

by Alberta Ferretti

by Richard Braqo

My taste in shoes is obviously way overpriced … but I know my taste in shoes is also gangstah … and they make Me happy … and isn’t that all that matters really!

*Oh … I feel another shoe collection coming on 😉 *


I Am Not Your Negro

Tonight I watched “I Am Not You Negro”.

And what is there to say?

‘Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.’

James Baldwin



all i need ~ meth & mary j

All I Need – Method Man and Mary J Blige, 1995


bring the pain ~ method man

I’m not a fan of ‘bleeping’ out profanity, so ‘dirty version’ first …  you have to appreciate the lyrical grit that is Method Man … the schlurp that only he can do … its a god dam beautiful thing …

And just cos you can’t really ‘feel’ what is Meth without seeing the goodness in action 😉 … heres the ‘clean’ version …

Bring The Pain ~ Method Man, 1994


ms fat booty ~ mos def

Ms Fat Booty – Mos Def, 1999


366 reasons to smile ~ +129.

+129. So many reasons to smile actually … but can’t you just feel the enthusiasm?? … yeah, well thats what I love 🙂


from YouTube



expression ~ pts(d) #197



Mid-life crisis or Man PMS?

I think the partner is having pre-menstrual cramps at the moment … and whoever said men don’t have a menstruation cycle have never lived with a man for longer than a few months … they do … and its way worse than ours … JS.

Either that or he’s having one of those mid-life crises.

Every pay day is pretty much the same. Shopping, bills … hissy fit cos theres not enough money and another matching hissy fit cos no-ones appreciating what it is to do the ‘right thing’.

Does it help that I usually chip in at this point with:

“At least you have a payday … 

“Would you like an award or some kind of mar degrade to celebrate the things women have been doing without a penny or so much as a fucking thank you card … for eons?

“You could always Not pay the power, rent, food …

“Maybe you should get another one of those bank loans you’re so fond of and go and buy some more crap you don’t use and pay back that bank loan over 3 years, with interest, just so you can have a little extra now and be paying back extra weekly for 3 years; thusly depleting your weekly income … 

Hmmm. They never seem to go down very well.

But I am over it. And have been for awhile. And since I’m trying to manage myself and my shit, I do not have much time for self righteous grizzling.

You see. A. I don’t have an income. B. I don’t have any bills either, thanks to the job loss and bankruptcy. C. Oh, thanks to pts fucking (d). D. I paid everything, and I mean everything, for fucking years. E. I paid for everything for fucking years and paid for my daughter. F. That was my fucking job. G. There are no thank yous for that shit. It’s called being a fucking human, doing human fucking responsible shit.

So, yeah. Not much time or patience for the other shit.

Interestingly enough … we had a little convo last night about the ‘it’ll happen when it happens’ marriage – nearly 4 years in the making or waiting. He has a tendency to espouse that I am trying to tie him down … or what ever that concept is when you’re in your 40s.

It’s then, that I remind him:

A. You proposed to Me, not the other way round.

B. Actually, I couldn’t give a shit … Marriage is something You said You believe in. I don’t. But I agreed to it because I love you.

Apparently these are unwelcome truths also.

Do I care about getting married? Nope.

What is it I care about then?

Not being fucking lured into a false sense of security. Not being fucking lied too. Not being held hostage to something I never promised.

So … I wonder if We are drawing to a close.

It’s possible.

It might be a sad thing. It might be a necessary thing.

Not sure really.

Watch this space.