‘Cause I Slay

February 12, 2016

Yo Playas…I got hot sauce in my bag…swag…

::::Bey vibes::::

Really, that should be the end.


But it’s not the end, because you and I just got here and we have some dank Dubie ganj to smoke on…

I’ll start with the emergency I experienced Wednesday night.

Photo on 2-11-16 at 10.15 AM

Photo on 2-11-16 at 10.15 AM #3What you see here is me soaking my scalp in coconut oil.

…and if those photos don’t give you a raging boner, I don’t know what will.

Yeah. Not sexy.

This is now a practice I’m making a habit of – at least while it’s Antartica outside, i.e.: cold and dry as a motherfucker.

Now, let me take you back to Tuesday night.

HB made us duck confit tacos. Immediately after eating, my scalp started to itch like cray, which really pissed me off.

I thought it would go away, so we got into bed. Fifteen minutes into Billions (great show, bytheway), the degree of itch went from a 3-4, to a 10-11.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck me.

Quickly looked up home remedies for itchy scalps, and slathered coconut oil all over my head, then went back to bed sitting awkwardly upright (couldn’t mess the pillows up) for another 20 minutes.

Enlisted HB to come shampoo me over the bathtub, which was a beautiful moment.

Ice cold water + peppermint oiled shampoo + HB massaging my head = HEAVEN ON EARTH = once again, happy Dubie.

Went to bed with wet hair, but the shit worked.<sign of the cross>. Problem solved. Emergency no longer an emergency. Peace.

I think I had some allergic reaction to the food, and the weather didn’t help.

Moral of the story:

  • Don’t eat duck confit tacos again.
  • Keep your scalp moisturized.
  • Always have peppermint oil on-hand (and I did, because I’m a boss like that).

…Moving on…


I AM RONDA ROUSEY. (or some would argue Holly Holm would be the better example right now, but RR is my girl always & 4ever). 

I started five months ago. It’s fucking hard and I suck (right now, at least). I know jack shit about martial arts. I danced for the first 18 years of my life, so this is new territory. This is foreign territory. Uncomfortable territory. Which is why I took it on.

I also am very well aware of the fact that based off of the way I look, most people underestimate my ability to FUCK SHIT UP. I have the power and strength, and I am finally learning how to harness it; sharpening my weapons.

ENTER: Boxing.

I love that boxing makes me think. It’s problem solving. Reading movement, and reacting accordingly. Because there is so much thinking involved, the physical part is secondary -the fatigue / discomfort you experience physically melts away into oblivion when you are focusing on protecting yourself and annihilating someone else.

I love that when I start to get comfortable and confident in my skills, I’m thrown another bone that frustrates me, or makes me feel uncoordinated as shit. It’s super humbling and good for the ego, which brings me to my next point.

To spar or not to spar…

I box once a week. Hardly enough to develop mad, competitive skills. It’s for fun. HOWEVER, my coach made a really good point about people looking amazing on pads or bags, and then when it comes time to APPLY those skills in the ring, it all goes to shit.

Interesting. I agree.

So, the first time he had me get in the ring and spar, I was secretly hoping the whole thing would just go away and everyone would forget about it. But, no. Ended up in there three rounds.

Holy fucking shit, I have never been so exhausted in my life. I felt off balance, over-threw my punches, didn’t apply ANY of my technique-well maybe a TINY bit-but at the end of it all, I got what he meant about looking sly on pads, and then, boom, dogshit central in the ring.

After experiencing that for the first time, it felt awesome. Even though I would have gotten my ass served to me if it were a real match, I was proud of myself for getting over that initial fear of getting inside the ring and looking like an asshole.

The bottom line is, you have to look like an asshole to get better and not look like an asshole anymore

Which is why I like sparring. You learn more – about the art itself – but more importantly about your own self. It’s not a one-dimensional form of exercise. It taps into many different mental and physical facets of your being, and you learn, then you grow…


Boom bitches. We’re done for today.

…and when my skills are more impressive, I’ll share them with all of you. 😉




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