Throwback Thursday: Thailand/Cambodia????


I can’t think which country I was in when took this pic, but the clothes say Cambodia, so we’ll leave it at that. Then again, I did have the same pants in Thailand.  I need to plan a trip again to confirm either way!

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

Posted in Throwback Thursday | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Wayback Wednesday: Gremlins


Ah, here’s an oldie but a goody, Gremlins. Can’t verify part 2 since I never saw it, but the O.G. is the shit!

A gadget salesman is looking for a special gift for his son and finds one at a store in Chinatown. The shopkeeper is reluctant to sell him the `mogwai’ but sells it to him with the warning to never expose him to bright light, water, or to feed him after midnight. All of this happens and the result is a gang of gremlins that decide to tear up the town on Christmas Eve.

Check out the trailer and add this to your new Christmas Movies list!

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

Posted in Wayback Wednesday | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Travel Tuesday: Tempe of Seti I


The Temple of Seti I is the mortuary temple of Pharaoh Seti I on the west bank of the Nile in Abydos. The ancient temple was constructed towards the end of the reign of Seti, and may have been completed by his son Ramesses the Great after his death in 1279 BC. The temple contains the Abydos King List. It is a chronological list of many dynastic pharaohs of Egypt from Menes, the Egyptian king credited with founding the First dynasty, until Ramesses I, Seti’s father.

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

Posted in Travel Tuesday | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Black Barbie Chronicles: My, My, the Korean Boys are So Bold


Korea was good and bad at the same time. Check out this lovely tale of me and boldness of some of the Korean men I encountered. Enjoy

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

My, My, the Korean Boys are So Bold

      Every now and then, I want to improve my mind. This was one of those times. I’ve been practice Korean on and off with people I’ve meet and with a couple of Koreans I’ve dated. This time I wanted to do an authentic language exchange. I was looking for a chance to practice my Korean without it turning into a hook-up. Well on this occasion, things went left, real fast.

This guy, let’s call him Kim, suggested we met at a yogurt and waffle place. I love waffles. Anyway, we place our orders and do a little chitchat. He tells me he lived in LA and we both like Supernatural and the Marvel Universe. Cool, looks like we’re geeks and this could be a good thing. Then he goes and fucks it up.

He was dropping little hints, which I just ignore. He stated that I must be very popular in Korea because of my beautiful dark skin. He wanted to know if I had a Korean boyfriend, or if I was looking for one. Then he tells me he’s a great cook and would love for me to come to his place to cook for me.

Alarm bells are going off in my head, so I try and let him down easily like I’ve been taught. I tell him, no, but thank you. He then persists. Again, I tell him no, I don’t know him, and I would not feel comfortable going to his place for dinner. I just met him. I tell him I don’t feel safe being alone with him in a locked room. His response to that, “Oh okay, then I’ll come to your place.”

What in the actual hell? Now, I release my Inner White Girl, because I knew he and the rest of the place would not be able to handle Fifth Ward Freda! I tell him, that’s not appropriate, but we could meet in public where I’d have more chances to practice my Korean. Oh, poor baby was getting frustrated. You could see it written all over his face.

He then tries to reassure me that nothing will happen. He is a good guy, I can ask any of his friends. I tell him no, that’s not a good plan and we should stick with my plan of meeting in public. He tells me that he doesn’t understand my hesitation about not going to my place or his. He tells me it’s not a problem since I don’t have a Korean boyfriend right. However, if I do get one, then he’d understand.

He would understand. What the actual hell? Again, I tell Kim, using my Inner White Girl that I’m strictly looking for a language exchange partner and not sex. He looked shocked and offended. He explained that he too was not looking for sex; he just wanted someone to talk to. Boy, please, I was born at night, but not last night!

I swear these Korean men are slick! They have this really clever way of making sure that they can have plausible deniability when you call them on their bullshit. Oh no, nothing will happen if we go to my place. I’m a safe man. Or oh, no I’m not looking for sex, I just want someone to talk to. It can really frustrating when I’m looking for one thing, think they too are looking for the same thing, and turns out, they want something entirely different. Boy, I’m done.

Now Korea has really taken me out of my comfort zone. Maybe it’s that false sense of security Korea has given me, but I’ve been taking some risks with my dating life. I’ve had my ups and downs, but for the most part, I’m good at who and what I want to keep in what I can my “Korean Lineup.” Some days I’m in the mood for sex, some days I’m not. If I am in the mood, I know who to call. Other times, I just want to have a nice language exchange without the sex. Is that too much to ask?

I know not all men want the same thing. I have noticed in Korea Land the majority of Korean men see us foreign women as these sex objects. We are something to cross off on some sexual bucket list. I have a good 5 Koreans who want to date me properly, and the others; well they claim they are friends, but they don’t act like it. Either these men are quite blunt with what they want, or they take the long way around to get me to sleep with them. How do they do this, you ask? Well, this will usually happen if the man just casually suggests we go to my apartment, his apartment, a DVD room, or a straight-up love motel.

All of the above are codes for sex in Korea. This suggestion is doubly true if I just met the man, like in the case with Kim. Once one of those suggestions come from their lips, I file them under, thank you, next. I remember the first time this happened to me. Lauren and I were in Hongdae in Seoul, hitting up some clubs. Well, all that drinking can make one a bit tipsy; drunk if you want to be technical.

Now Lauren had a hung hard-on for the locals. Her goal was to hit one per city and town, and she was doing an excellent job of it. Anyway, here we are drunk and stumbling into this coffee shop at 4 in the morning. We needed to sober up so we could catch the 6 am train back to Busan and who do we see; two Koreans just wanting to talk. These guys were in their 20’s one was okay, and the other was built like a Korean god. Guess which one I was stuck talking to? Bitch.

Anyway, average and I are having a conversation; me in my broken Korean and him in his broken English. I was bored, and it was written all over my face, and you could hear it in my voice. Finally, after listening to this dick drone on and on it occurred to me that Lauren had left with her guy. This was confirmed with a text from her saying she’ll meet me at the station. Bitch!

So now I’m stuck with my guy. Naturally, since he thinks I’m that drunk, we should return to his place. I politely decline. I’m not that drunk, and he has sobered me, and any buzz I had is long gone. He asked if I was hungry, and I told him I could eat. He says he knows this great place where we can get some soup. I needed to kill time and soup sounds good, so I follow him out and begin walking. Well, guess where we end up; in front of a damn love motel.

I just look at him and walk away in disgust. Check this new line he gave me, “Oh, it’s okay. Nothing will happen. No worry. If I touch you just scream.” Bitch, please. I walk down the street to another coffee shop and have him think about his life choices.

Now, I don’t think I’m special. This type of shit has happens to every foreign woman in Korea, especially if you’re Black. While a White woman is the desire, Black women for some reason is seen as exotic. Then men want to know what’s it like and if we’re as good as the porns say we are in bed. These types of men wouldn’t date us, let alone marry one of us. Oh no, we’re seen as something exotic to sleep with.

When you want Korean men to treat you like a human being, they look confused. One of the men I met wished to, and I quote “experience, Africa.” Experience Africa? What kind of shit is that? I asked him straight to his face if he would ever approach a Korean woman the way he approached me. He looked offended and said no. So I asked him why did he think it was okay to do it with me? And then as if a cloud was removed from over his face, he realized how and why his pickup line was so offensive.

After the night I had, I finally make it to the train station. I see Lauren and her Korean Adonis saying farewells. She’s smiling from ear to ear so I know how her evening went. Bitch!

Posted in Weekly Updates | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Music Sunday: Vertical Horizon


This here is another one of my fav’s back in the 90’s Vertical Horizon.  For some reason, this song really spoke to me!  Anyway, enjoy.

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

Posted in Music Sundays, Sunday Funday | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Noir Saturdays: Berlin Express


Spies, spies, and more spies are the subject of this week’s noir, Berlin Express.

During World War II, passengers of various nationalities travel by train from France to Berlin. One of them, Dr. Bernhardt (Paul Lukas), is an influential peacemaker who wants to mend the war-torn continent. When Nazi conspirators determined to keep Bernhardt quiet set off an explosion on the train, it kills a man who turns out to be Bernhardt’s decoy. Other passengers (Merle Oberon, Robert Ryan, Robert Coote) seek the doctor for an explanation, but deception is all around.

Check it out tonight @ 11PM on TCM CST or 9AM CST on Sunday. Enjoy and check out the trailer.

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

Posted in Noir Saturdays | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Erotic Fridays: Anne Sexton


Here’s today’s poet, Anne Sexton.

Anne Sexton (November 9, 1928 – October 4, 1974) was an American poet known for her highly personal, confessional verse. She won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1967 for her book Live or Die. Her poetry details her long battle with depression, suicidal tendencies, and intimate details from her private life, including relationships with her husband and children, whom it was later revealed she physically and sexually assaulted.

Anne Sexton was born Anne Gray Harvey in Newton, Massachusetts, on November 9, 1928. She attended boarding school at Rogers Hall Lowell, Massachusetts, where she first started writing poetry. She attended Garland Junior College for one year and married Alfred Muller Sexton II at age nineteen. Sexton and her husband spent time in San Francisco before moving back to Massachusetts for the birth of their first daughter, Linda Gray Sexton, in 1953.

After her second daughter was born in 1955, Sexton was encouraged by her doctor to pursue an interest in poetry that she had developed in high school. In the fall of 1957, she joined writing groups in Boston that introduced her to many writers such as Maxine Kumin, Robert Lowell, and Sylvia Plath. She published her first two books, To Bedlam and Part Way Back (1960) and All My Pretty Ones (1962), with Houghton Mifflin.

In 1965, Sexton was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in London. She then went on to win the 1967 Pulitzer Prize in poetry for her third collection, Live or Die (Houghton Mifflin, 1966). In total, Sexton published nine volumes of poetry during her lifetime, including Love Poems (Houghton Mifflin, 1969), The Book of Folly (Houghton Mifflin, 1973) and The Awful Rowing Toward God (Houghton Mifflin, 9175). She also authored several children’s books with Maxine Kumin.

Sexton received several major literary prizes including a Guggenheim Fellowship, the 1967 Shelley Memorial Prize, the 1962 Levinson Prize, and the Frost Fellowship to the Bread Loaf Writers Conference. She taught at Boston University and Colgate University, and died on October 4, 1974, in Weston, Massachusetts. Her papers are collected and housed at the Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center at the University of Texas at Austin.


Check out a new favorite of mine and hope one of yours. Enjoy.

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

Admonitions To A Special Person

by Anne Sexton

Watch out for power,

for its avalanche can bury you,

snow, snow, snow, smothering your mountain.

Watch out for hate,

it can open its mouth and you’ll fling yourself out

to eat off your leg, an instant leper.

Watch out for friends,

because when you betray them,

as you will,

they will bury their heads in the toilet

and flush themselves away.

Watch out for intellect,

because it knows so much it knows nothing

and leaves you hanging upside down,

mouthing knowledge as your heart

falls out of your mouth.

Watch out for games, the actor’s part,

the speech planned, known, given,

for they will give you away

and you will stand like a naked little boy,

pissing on your own child-bed.

Watch out for love

(unless it is true,

and every part of you says yes including the toes) ,

it will wrap you up like a mummy,

and your scream won’t be heard

and none of your running will end.

Love? Be it man. Be it woman.

It must be a wave you want to glide in on,

give your body to it, give your laugh to it,

give, when the gravelly sand takes you,

your tears to the land. To love another is something

like prayer and can’t be planned, you just fall

into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.

Special person,

if I were you I’d pay no attention

to admonitions from me,

made somewhat out of your words

and somewhat out of mine.

A collaboration.

I do not believe a word I have said,

except some, except I think of you like a young tree

with pasted-on leaves and know you’ll root

and the real green thing will come.

Let go. Let go.

Oh special person,

possible leaves,

this typewriter likes you on the way to them,

but wants to break crystal glasses

in celebration,

for you,

when the dark crust is thrown off

and you float all around

like a happened balloon.

Posted in Erotic Fridays | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment