Getting My Butt In Gear….


Building a better Lady Tiger page. Stay tuned for upcoming DJ gigs, musings, and posts about water torture, otherwise known as online dating.

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Celebrate your Singleness this Valentine’s Day!

img_1662Because I’m feeling uncreative today, I dug this article up from the vault. Hope you find it to be a good read. I wrote it two years ago – back when I was a still a swinging single lady. I’m still a single lady at heart. In fact, having just started a new relationship, I often ask myself if having a significant other is truly what I want. After all, not having to answer to anyone at anytime really ices my Valentine’s cupcake. It seems when I found peace in being single that I began a relationship? I guess that’s what the experts in relationships say. Desperation is the kill-switch to any aphrodisiac.

Drop that negative puss face, put down the Ben & Jerry’s and smile at your single life. It’s not that bad. Loving yourself means more than loving a man who is unavailable, unappreciative, manipulative or just plain mean. Same thing goes for men. We shouldn’t have to stay in something that makes us feel bad or incomplete. That’s not what love was invented for.

Gluing yourself to someone out of fear of being alone can only patch up the hole in your heart for so long. Sometimes (and I’m guilty of this plenty) we seek out incompleteness in someone else because we ourselves feel incomplete. We look for emptiness in other people because we haven’t found anything in our life to fill us up. Remember the holes inside our soul can be filled with many things. Why not choose the right things. Including the intention to love and be loved.

Even if you don’t have anyone to share this holiday with, you still have yourself. Remember that love is the mightiest of all emotions. The one with the most power to bring you the things you want in this world. Love can shape, bend and transform itself again and again and again. Love can heal, break through and tear down – as well as tear apart. It all depends on how you use it. But like a Boomerang, what you throw comes back so make sure you get a good swing before you start.

Singleness is oneness. Oneness is whole. Why not celebrate the fact that you are a complete person this Valentine’s Day rather than ruminate about lost loves and past hurts? That will only bring you more of the same. Instead of looking at yourself as alone – look at yourself as surrounded by possibility. Wish those that harmed you all the best and stay open to new opportunities. They will come. Remember if you have an apple and cut it in half, you get a fruit that’s incomplete. However if you have an apple and someone else brings an orange to the table, then you have fruit to share.

Lots of Love to you this Valentine’s Day!

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Love Hurts?

Yesterday I wrote an article on Love Addiction? Did you take the quiz? If you are a love addict, don’t feel bad. Many of us are conditioned to become one especially if we were raised in a codependent environment. Co-dependency is definedas a psychological condition or a relationship in which a person is controlled or manipulated by another who is affected with a pathological condition (as in an addiction to alcohol or heroin); and in broader terms, it refers to the dependence on the needs of or control of another.”

The dependence on controlling another is the foundation of an addictive relationship. Like any addict who is addicted, the more he or she thinks they need something to control – the more out of control they become. The more out of control they become the more control they seek to gain and so on and so on. This is because the loss of control leads to rejection and love addicts will do anything not to be rejected:

The difference between healthy and obsessive lovers becomes apparent when rejection enters the picture. If healthy lovers are rejected, they generally grieve the loss of the relationship and get on with their lives. But obsessive lovers become flooded with panic, insecurity, fear and pain, which drives them to resist tooth and nail the deterioration of the relationship.” Dr. Susan Forward, Obsessive Love, page 28.

I recently ended after ending after ending my addictive relationship. I put on 3 endings but there were many more – addictive relationships usually have sequels, prequels and multiple, unhappy endings. The cycle of relationship addiction is like any other addiction. It repeats itself until it’s over and when it’s over the addicted person experiences a sensation similar to getting off drugs: withdrawal.

New studies suggest that love rejection affects the primitive areas of the brain associated with motivation, reward and addiction cravings – the chemical responsible for these feelings is dopamine. Dr. Fayr Barkley, Ph.D., in an online article entitled “Relationship Withdrawal – Why You Feel Like You’re Going to Die” explains that “Dopamine is the “feel good” transmitter that our brain produces in response to something that triggers it. The trigger can be positive: exercise, falling in love, being surprised with some wonderful gift from a loved one; and it can also be triggered by something negative: spousal abuse, an unexpected response or event, drug/alcohol abuse.”

My addictive relationship wasn’t even a relationship. It was a 2-ships-passing-in-the-night kind of exchange. However, at the time I met this person, I had recently ended a more meaningful relationship and was looking for someone to fill in the void – or pump up the dopamine levels in my brain. Many times, I stood outside myself wondering why I cared so much about a person who was clearly more CON than PRO. Yes, he was handsome witty and well-endowed but he was also narcissistic, non-communicative and a liar. How willing I became to overlook a cornucopia of problems just to get my “fix.” Many relationship addicts put up with terrible things just so they can feel okay because feeling abandoned is even worse.

In the end when it was over, I lost my appetite, couldn’t sleep, became irritable, angry and depressed. I craved his attention, his presence even his smell. He was poison in my veins – and I still wanted more – until there was no more to give. It hurt. It was uncomfortable. It’s heroin in human form. And just like heroin, the more I put off withdrawing from the relationship the harder the withdrawal would be.

So how does one withdrawal without clawing their eyes out? Well, here’s a few resources:

Three Stages of Healing From A Narcissistic Relationship: get a plant, get a pet, get a partner.

What To Do When Your Partner Withdraws: tips on keeping yourself healthy when your relationship may be ending.

There’s also several suggestions made by Susan Forward in her aforementioned book. My favorite is taking a 2-week emotional vacation from the subject of your obsession. During this time you keep a log of your feelings, emotions, thoughts and behaviors about your obsessive relationship. You also cease all contact with the target of your obsession. This allows you to identify obsessive thoughts and avoid obsessive triggers. The goal, Susan explains, is show you that “Thoughts create feelings which lead to behaviors which trigger more thoughts which starts the cycle all over again.” If you know what makes you tick in the wrong direction – you can stop the cycle before it begins.

Finally, there are support groups such as Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous that provide free help to those suffering from relationship addiction. No matter who you are or where you’ve come from love should never hurt – even if songs made in 1976 tell us otherwise:

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Hustle To The Brand


I was born as a silver-spoon street kid. My Dad came from nothing, built a business and was a millionaire by the time he was 36 years old. I remember driving to private school in his red Porsche convertible, blasting the Rolling Stones. We didn’t listen to the Beatles in my house; it was Uncle Mick, Berry White and lots of Rick James. Grit came from hard work coated with low self-esteem. I witnessed my parents keeping up with the Joneses only to give birth to a wheelchair bound son. Game over. No one asks for a handicapped kid for Christmas. But we got one. My brother had a disease that affects 1 in a 100,000,000 men. That’s right one hundred million. We’d have a better chance winning the lottery.

Unfortunately our lottery ended in the 90’s when my father sunk his life savings into building a big home – when the market tanked so did all our money, my parents marriage and sadly, my brother’s life. He ended up passing on from what we all believe to be an out-of-body experience and with it, passed the world I knew into a downhill slide. I believe the death of my brother set the tone for the next 20 years of my life; I internalized it and blamed myself for it. I also set off on a path of self-destruction and exploration that included, but was not limited to, copious amounts of drugs. Trust me, I’m not crying the blues. In fact, I’m grateful for all of it. I don’t think I would be able to write in such a sassy tone if it wasn’t for all my bottoms.

What inspires me are the people that rise from the nothingness of their experience; people who are dealt blows and beat odds. People who make stacks of money the right way (and sometimes the wrong way too). I’ve always admired guts. As a lady, I’ve taken risks and have racked up more failures than victories. I victimize myself because of it – then try and say “turn that victim into a victor!” Even when I don’t believe it.

My goal is to meld my street smarts with business acumen and sell myself as a package deal. I’d like to write, teach, speak in front of people and tell jokes about all the cocaine I did in Miami. I want to be improperly proper; a juxtaposition of smarts, sass and balls. I’d like to do it successfully and then tell others how to do it. Don’t ask me how because I really don’t know. This not knowing keeps me up at night and makes me sick to my stomach every morning. It also keeps me going. Going and going and going; it’s a compulsion, my hustle. Yet, it gives me a reason to believe that I can. Can what? Who knows. I can only trust that I’ve gotten this far and have far to go. As long as I keep my shit straight and my eye on the ball, there’s no reason that all my bottoms won’t get me to the top of my game.

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Jazz-Heads: Idris Muhammad

Shout out to Idris who passed away recently. I just got into his stuff last year and the Power of Soul album is a must to anyone who takes their jazz on the rocks, straight-up and mighty smooth.

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Penis: A Love Story


Friends, I’ve recently discovered that although he was alive in my lifetime – I must have been James Brown in another lifetime because I’m dealing with some heavy karmic payback when it comes to relationships and men. Recently a man, who I only had one in-face encounter with found my profile on Facebook and messaged me. I thought that was sweet – and sent him a reply. We went back and forth for over a year – trying to meet in person – and then failing miserably to do so. Two days ago, after a lengthy correspondence, he sends me a note saying he’s thinking of me. How sweet, was my thought until I looked down at my phone and saw a picture of his penis.


Look it. Guys. I don’t know what GQ article in genital IQ came out saying this was okay. How to win a woman in 50 texts or less does not include sending someone a picture of your dick. You’re lucky I’m just a hustler and not a If I didn’t know any better, your FB profile tells me where you work and blackmailing your ass for a couple grand looks mighty tempting when currently making less than a migrant-worker wage. I’m not totally trying to give anyone ideas, here. I’m trying to save you all from a bunch of heavy embarrassment. You’ll thank me someday.

Send flowers instead.

Perhaps I’m prude. Slopping nude photos across the world wide web has become akin to vacation pictures. We’re all doing it (and photographing it). I’m not innocent in my naked ventures however, sharing intimacy usually comes with being intimate first. Mr. Penis and I haven’t even met. This means his act of affection borders on CRA*and CREE**. Ladies, take care of your vaginas – don’t let any man use yours against you. If you photograph your kitten, do it privately and with no face showing. This way if they come back to haunt you – you can gently say, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kick up some shade and get your blank-stare on. What vagina? That’s not mine. You’re obviously just obsessed with me. What makes you think I would send you a picture of my vagina? That’s my roommates. Whatever it takes to keep your integrity intact.

For those of you making money off your kitten on the WWW dot. Word to the hustle. I give you props because I’m the type of lady who likes to put a black shade on the face of my man and have sex with the curtains drawn, lights off and a lightweight cotton bag over my head. Not being able to see what I’m doing makes it easier to try new positions, thankyouverymuch.

As for Mr. Penis, he hasn’t contacted me since I told him not to. I love men that can read texts and take hints.


*Crazy with a side of CRA-CRA

**Super Creepy

And now, for some wreck-house realness:

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Jazz-Heads: Mulatu Astatke

Hope I spelled that right.

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