I ain't hardly in the motherbloggin' mood today.
I woke up at 2am with an em-effin’ sore throat and the MAAAD desire to stay in bed until 2pm...which I basically did.
If it wasn’t for having to call into work and get an actual LIVE voice since muhfuckas act like a voicemail won’t suffice (GRRRR!) AND having to move my car at the crizzack of dawn since the city is doing “upgrades” on my street (read that as: kicking up dust and not doin’ a muthafuck!) I might STILL be a citizen of Slumber City.
There's something ohso! therapeutic (and rebellious!) about laying around until I get good and gotdayumed ready to start my day and live my life. Ain't nothing better than saying a big, fat, “FUCK YOU!” to my alarm clock, rising earlier than the sun does, doing Frogger through traffic and the politics of working with some ( ) people.
Right now, if I could BK my life and have it my way, with plenty of money in the bank, shawty whatchu drank, I wouldn’t get out of bed for NOTHING short of the following:
Some REGULAR dickin’ by an 8 inch or BETTER cockasaurus. **salivating** I need that in my life!! Ain’t noooooo reason for this here drought season!! It’s a dayum shame that I was getting’ more dickage in my TEENS (Hi, mom!) when I had to sneak than I’m getting’ now that I’z a big girl with my own spot! I should be MC Hammer’in this biznitch and TURNIN’ THIS MUTHA OUT!! EFF!!! I’ll take that REGGIE BUSH dickin’ connected to a dark, ig’nit, lil’ sum’in from New Orleans (Slow down, baaayyyyybeh!), Philly (Eaaarrrrlllly!) or Jamaica, por favor.
The guys from Heatherette, Richie Rich and Traver Rains, calling me to see if I’d be the muse for their new plus size line, "Boobenesque." I'm talkin, muse, model, spokesbitch, and **gettin' far too big for my britches** equal pot'na. CHA-CHING!
Being a nightly fly on the wall in Jayonce’s “newlywed” love nest. Cuz I just GOTTA know how that’s goin’ down. Since Bey’s public image is SO controlled, I just picture ol’ girl goin’ WILD on Jigga’s pants pole, lacefront danglin' from the chandelier, while uncontrollably exclaiming, “NOW I JUS’ WANNA LUHV YA!”
An endless supply of Lane Bryant’s Passion lace-lined plunge bras. Since mine act like I got endless gubmit employee dough to spend and only have a shelf life of about 5 months. (GRRR!!!) So what that they only go up to a 44DD and I’m at LEAST a G!! (Yes, boys! **wank, wank**) I’m fully aware that I shouldn’t be stuffing Thing 1 and Thing 2 such a smizzall brizza, but the raw sexxxayness and overly abundant “Cleveland” that that ish makes is to DIE for!
An all expenses paid trip to every island in the Caribbean. With an 8’er or better eagerly awaiting my "arrival" (<-in more ways than one! **wank, wank**) at every port.
A 24 hour Glam Squad to give my ass a new look on the daily. Yeah, I’m gettin’ by with my kitchen azz glue-in and Wet N’ Wild cosmetic arsenal, but it’s time to step my gizzame izzup. The summer is rapidly approaching and I ain’t HARDLY tryna get caught coming off a waterslide with my weave in HAND rather than on my head like it was 2 summers ago. (Remember that Nas, Kita, T-Mama, and Angel?) **committing suicide**
Hell...times, like my unfondled nipples, is hard! I'd even take some of THIS!