Awww, dayum.
**lookin' around at a room full of skranjuhs while nervously fidgeting**
I'm feelin' like a mid-90s 'Pac right now.
Anybody know the feelin' when you have what you THOUGHT would be a small get-together with only a couple of ya folks?
You pick up a lil' meat portion and a veggie plate that you KNOW ninjas ain't HARDLY gon' be checkin' for but you get it anyway. (NayNay DID let you use her EBT card so...). You call up ya Auntie to hook up some 'tayduh salad and break out a couple bottles of low-level, liver-assaulting wine & spirits that you purchased under the "Shit, it's better than NUTHIN'" rationale.
And when the guests start to arrive, just cuz somebody saw a counter full of Popov they instantly assumed it was goin' DOWN and got to textin' the whole 'hood, turning ya shit into a FUNCTION (<--West Coast speak for a par-tay. Dub-C Stand UP!!!!) faster than you can exclaim, "But I only got a 20-piece Honey BBQ Wings!"
Well...that's how a ninjette's feelin' at this IG-ZACK moment. Even though I'm MORE than tittyfucking myself IG-CY-TID happy to see y'all!!!! :^D
Updating this blog has been secondary to my triflin', sorry ass, would make better dough givin' blowjobs to transients daytime gig and after work beachin' up whale-style with my DVR.
I post WHEN and IF I want to. And with the homegirl Mary around a lil' bit mo' than I'd like her to be lately, it's been LESS and LESS in the past month or so. **hopin' my pastor ain't in the buil'in**
But now that my motherblogger Fran FRESH'er over at C+D blew my shit up like Fat Joe in a Taco Bell baffroom, I'm David Bowie and Queen-style under pressure to keep my new audience in-tuh-tayned. (**Oh, and Fresh, please believe you got an account opened and a at the GA branch of the Head Bank for that gooooood lookin' out!) Even though I'm nervous in the service, I'm up for the challenge. Especially with the kinda cool azz folks that have joined my once small blog family.
Shouts to everybody who first-time SavvyFatty'd it yesterday and to those of you who emailed, Myspaced and/or commented regarding the 40/40 post. Glad you enjoyed my honest account of how me and my folks were bent over and no vaselined at Jigga's spot.
And special fam shouts to my grandma who spit some TROOFUS like fighters spit toofus about my review being a little TOO scathingly descriptive.
In the words of my lil' ole Gramz out there in San An, TX, who ain't hardly tryna be the Voletta Wallace of the blog set:
FUCK.
Like Dave Chappelle when dude flashed him the gun after he refused to pay $873 for a car wash: DUNNNNHHHHH!!!!
But sit back, relax, read some old posts, and get to know what I'z all about. And if you feel so inclined and my mouf ain't full one way or the other **wank, wank**, talk to me. I talk back.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Uhhh...hi
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Showtime, Synergy!
Did someone say, 'Savvy?!'
**frantically grabbing purse, keys, box of flavored condoms and the twins before I miss this boat!!!**
So, my boy over at The Superficial thinks Kimmy K. is rockin' a bunk bed mattress under this dress that's hugging her curves so gotdayum perfectly that my tongue has purchased a Star Map in desperate hopes of locating Chateau KardASShian.
I've reviewed the pics. And I'm kinda on the fence about the whole thing.
But...**performing a cursory finger test** judging from the good gushy gushy emitting from my lapular region, I simply don't give a shit!!!
Maaaaan, if I could look 1/17th as delectable in a white dress, instead of like this, I put that on ya MUTHA I wouldn't be sittin' here fuckin' around with y'all'z asses. Instead, I'd be posted somewhere with Pretty Boy Floyd, firmly parked between his nostrils and chin while wearing nothing but a Nike Livestrong Bracelet and a satiated smile.
**making the phone gesture with my left hand while shooting Reg and Kim the 'eye'**
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Jank-Z's 40/40 Club, Lost Wages
**loud-talkin' with my hand on my hip**
The only reason I was hyped to go was because of Jay-Z's star power and to support a black businessman. **coughGIGANTORmistakecough**
The ONLY thing that saved it from getting a -1 vajillion stars was the atmosphere and decor. There were plenty of plush seating areas with flat screens everywhere. We were there to catch the Spurs/Lakers game and at every visual point there was a TV showing the action.
Oh, and shouts to whoever was timing the music to come on right when the game cut to commercial: BRAVO TO YOU!!! **pointer finger clap** Thanks for reminding us of whose house we were in by playing the Bey-Z anthology over and over...and over...and OVER again. Allow me to show my gratitude for hearing "03 Bonnie and Clyde" enough times to make me wanna hold MYYYY girlfriend tight.
No clear host station.
When we arrived we walked around aimlessly for a good 5 minutes until we saw people in 40/40 shirts. We asked where do we check in for our reservation (which we were told was NECESSARY. www.bullmuthafuckinshit.com) We were directed to a woman who was just standing around, dressed as we were; no name tag or 40/40 insignia. I told her we had reservations. She DID NOT ask our name; just how many were in our party. We were then walked in a FULL circle (in order to remain un-pissed, I called it a "guided tour" in my head) around the place to find somewhere to sit. We stopped at NUMEROUS spots before finally being seated in a cool ass space.
Food.
DON'T go hungry, poor, expecting greatness OR without your Incredible Hulk hands on deck. Menu was encyclopedia-heavy, mayne. Matter of fact: Don't even TOUCH the menu.
All you'll get is a half-assed attempt at UNSEASONED, hardly microwaved frozen food and a sorry pile of bullshit disguised as salad or a garnish on your plate.
We started off trying several appetizers. (Crab Cakes, Breaded Catfish Sticks, Buffalo Wings, The Picnic {should have been named the YUCKFUCK!}, and Cheese Bread.) EVERYTHING arrived LUKE-FRIGID except for the dry hot wings which were a work-with-able temperature.
"The Picnic" consisted of 2 fried deviled eggs (imagine wet cardboard. BLECH!) and about 5 hard, dry chicken sticks all for $12. I cut the roof of my mouth on one them gatdayumed things, too. But I quickly learned my lesson and tore apart the 2 that I COULD eat. I melted them in Ranch for a good minute or 5 JUST to be able to TASTE them.
The "cheese bread" was nothing more than Grocery Outlet-quality frozen deep dish pizza cut into 4 uneven sticks. It arrived to us looking like it had seen a ghost; PETRIFIED. It was cold, hard, and dry...and $8!! **tears** As a fat girl, I'll try anything ONCE, but just the sight of those 4 dead bodies saved me from several unnecessary calories. And for that, I'z grateful.
Service.
Our waitress was young, dumb, and full of "Umm..." Her ass didn't know SHIT. She even brought other tables' orders to us and basically asked us to pick what we ordered. I feel sorry for whoever had the cheese fries cuz there was a receipt buried under the cheese when we saw it. Mmmm!! Receipt-y goodness!!!!! [/sarcasm]
Be sure to pack your camel (no pun intended) thirst game. When requesting water to wash away the metallic taste of blood from the chicken shit assault, we were brought a toy tea set-sized carafe of water with lemon. I asked if we could have one without lemon and was told that it would take about 20 minutes. Water with lemon...INSTANTLY!! Water WITHOUT lemon...20 minutes! Ok...that made sense. [/sarcasm]
So, annoyed, I just cancelled the water and decided to live my life as a vampire.
Since water is a crap shoot, (and drinks are so jank-ridden, you'd be better sneaking a fif in your purse like I did!) you may not have to go pee-pee, but, unfortunately, I did. The bathrooms LOOKED nice. But skip le toilet if you're accustomed to such trivial things as cleanliness, toilet seat covers OR toilet paper! They'll be more on the floor or in the unflushed toilets than on the roll.
Shopping Bag Girl.
**calming down...regaining composure**
Besides the food and service, what annoyed us most was the plastic shopping bag of 40/40 paraphernalia the waitress carried.
I thought her azz was late and didn't have time to drop her things off before manning her stations. I asked what was she carrying and was told that they're MADE to carry souvenirs just in case patrons want to purchase them. My thoughts: "Ummm...whatever happened to a STORE?!"
Even though she wasn't worth her weight in Memphis Bleek CDs, I felt sorry for the girl as she juggled everything while trying to keep the crumpled bag on her shoulder.
Overall, I just PRAY this is simply a franchise and hope H-to the Izzo is NOT directly in charge of or responsible for this fuckery.
But iffin' he IS: PLEASE BELIEVE I'mma Limewire-download and bootleg-sell EVERY SINGLE Def Jam, Roc-A-Wear, AND Destiny's Child (Sorry Kellz. I know you need the guap, but...) and all associated items so I can to get my $$$ back!!!!
FRONTIN' is a habit
I took my broke azz to Vegas this weekend with not even enough money to cop a crispy new pair of Pro-Wings. But from the way we Sin City kicked it, you'd be under the impression that I made waaaayyyy more than a Chuck E. Cheese token annually.
But I was on a mission: I didn't care if gas cost a Beetlejuice blowjob per gallon, it was a matter of EXTREME importance that I get away for Memorial Day. Lucky for my impoverished azz, the girls and I were able to find a hotel within my budget so we hopped in the ol' Honda and beat the 15 North like a smart mouf kid.
But please believe, like Pharrell sung: I was just FRONTIN' cuz, as most of y'all who know me personally or thru the blogosphere, you're WELLl aware of my adventures as a po' gubmit employee peeump.
If you're a regular SF'er you already know how I cain't even afford to pay attention and how homeless people hand ME change while patting my back and saying, "It ain't trickin' if I got it." **tears**
Regardless of the comatosed wallet, I STILL rartied like a sock par! JEAH!
"Dan-Ye" and "Hank Bank$" for showing me and the girls some love.
Dan-Ye, you knowwwww you got an account open at the Head Bank for sending me that cam phone pic of my baby daddy on stage at his SuperFest and for comin' through with that good PLP'in (that's Parkin' Lot Piffin') in the 'Price!! That was just what I needed RIGHT when I needed it. ;^p And...I hope that lil "adult" conversation at The Orleans don't have you lookin' at ya girl any different. Me and the girls don't ever get TOOO crazy. We were just sayin'! LOL!
Only question I have is: WHO dug up a time capsule containing a 1993 issue of Rap Pages and thought it was the BIZNISS to book Domino to perform at the event? The Getto Jam was like, "No, ma'am." But props to you for givin' a brotha an opportunity to make some $$$ in order to get his herringbone and Ray-Bans outta the pawn shop.
Poetry nightclub in Caesar's Palace for its blatant disregard of its own ADVERTISED Saturday night promotion!
I loved the way your website said those in all white for the Tank performance would get front of the line privileges THEN had your Mr. Piggy security guard act like that was the most preposterous thing he'd heard when I asked him about it. Had muhfukkas walkin' around with their Q-tip games strong including my azz, in the buil'in lookin' like a quadruple roll of Charmin for no good gatdayum reason! GRRRR!!!
That was cool, though, cuz we bounced from there and made it RAIN on the bar, tables, and slot machines at Bellagio. And in turn, they made it rain on our livers with all them free dranks. YAY! and D'oh! at the same time!
Now...if only you coulda seen through the thick layer of desert dust covering my windshield, you woulda been the winner of Thanksgiving dinner. **wink, wink** Cuz I KNOOOW them lil' Middle Eastern lookin' toothpicks you were with cain't do it like ya Fatty. Dontchu know once you go fat, you'll eat till you bring on a heart attack?!?!....NO?!...Well, yeah...like that.
Josh! Good LOOOKKKIIINNNN' on coming through for your ninjettes! We had a BLAST with you at the 'Lagio. And your homies weren't half bad either!! ;-) Just let me know how I can be like YOU when I grow up! I'll have my people call yo' people!
The overzealous maid staff at our hotel for interrupting the tiny bit of sleep we were able to get.
In our half-dead hungover state, how could we hear you bangin' on the door shouting, "HOUSE-GEE-PEENG!" but you, awake, alert and WORKING, couldn't hear us screaming, "NO! THANK! YOU!"
We appreciated your enthusiasm about your job. Really we did. But just imagine, if instead of being in an alcohol-induced semi-coma, we were... Yeah... so clean out your ears, Maria.
That's pretty much it. The weekend was fun for all! except for...
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