Hello Universe

I feel like I should release some good old lukewarm energy into the universe! Oh how I long for the luxury of coming in to work when I feel like it….. oh well, better bottle that feeling up and whip it out as inspiration later.

Where should I begin? The holidays --- bah humbug and all that shit. I really do not like this time of year, I am sure the bulk of my hatred stems from certain events in my adolescence, in fact if it weren’t for my children I wouldn’t even put up a Christmas tree. Thanksgiving seems forced and Christmas is..... well.... Christmas, I looked into different religions so that I may bypass this stupid ass time of year, then I thought, I better not play with bey-hova. Even though I am hell bound I wouldn’t want to ruin a chance at heaven’s waitlist. So in the end, Thanksgiving and Christmas sucks monkey nuts and I will probably be drunk from 11/25/2010 – 12/26/2010. Hell, everything is better with Vodka in it.

Oh and of course I have to throw in a dose of male bashing. Yes men still suck. In fact, in the last two months I have witness so much fuckery that it has driven me closer into the arms of my intended.

It’s so cold outside….. I really hate the winter time, it’s too got damn cold outside. Why on earth would someone WANT to be cold? Some say that you can get plenty of sleep when you’re dead, HA! I’d rather sleep now and freeze my corpse off later. My life is bad enough, must I sacrifice sleep and warmth as well? I do not think that is fair….. Not fair at all.

Of course I will complain about the heat in the summertime, I’d much rather do it live from wherever I’ma be sweating my ass off, I’ll tuck that complaint away until after the spring.

Let’s see what else, I really need a new hobby, something that can I can really stick with. I taught myself to crochet and made half a neck scarf….. for a whole neck. My attention span is not what it used to be.

I guess I’d better wrap this up now…… I fixin to hit tha road ---

Mrs. B

I Wouldn't Call it Intuition

I am sure we have all had that period of time in our lives where we just felt like “a storm was a comin” or felt that what we were doing was “dead ass wrong” etc. Some say its intuition, some say common sense no matter what you call it - it happens, pay attention to it. I have the problem of ignoring it confusing it with the hate of the devil himself, not the one I bore children by, the big dog, Lucifer Jenkins. I mean really, Lucifer has no reason to hate on anyone, why would he waste his time setting people up for downfalls? What joy would he get from watching the likes of us crumble? Makes no sense at all.

It is not L. Jenkins fucking with our actions it is our action of ignoring our gut feelings that make us crumble. Wait, let me stop including my readers in my bull shit. I am so sick and tired of vocally expressing my gut feelings only to be shunned like an Amish Whore. I could keep them to myself but at what cost? My sanity? When I blew the whistle on the unspoken rule to carry shells my love life diminished, my sex life went to desert storm and my sanity returned only to battle with my insanity. They are at neck and neck right now I must add. I am taking bets in the comment section.

Not only do I feel as if I will soon be welcomed into my new padded home with complimentary little pills twice a day, I also feel like I will never ever ever ever ever ever ever be able to have a relationship. I am so fucking sick of self sabotage. Get thee behind me satan, I mean Get the behind me ignorance of gut feelings. What the hell am I supposed to do? Sure I curse love for filth at every chance I get, yes I am an active member of the Down with Love up with Hate Crimes Ensemble and no I do not plan to spend more money on a wedding than a divorce. So why why why is this punk heifer inside of me longing to actually be involved? I, well we (Juanita, Sherylle and Shells) see the fuckery that is called “relationship” We have lived through three in our life time. I want to go into tantrum mode, instead I will give an example of why I go cross eyed when gawked at by men and why the arch in my foot itches whenever I hear…. Well let me get on with my example.
As you all know by now I have two children by the devil in carnet. I also do not like to go into anything by way of deceit. So I am honest. Maybe too honest at times, to keep matters semi private I cannot go into detail but I can give a brief rundown of the happenings.

I opened up enough to tell someone the truth about my situation and why I feel that it would be a defeatable challenge for me to get involved. Me doing that was a huge hurdle, similar to the destruction of the infamous wall on Brewster Place. Why did I do it you ask? Because I actually give a fuck. There I said it, I fucking care and thought that I could take the steps necessary to prepare for a companion. Boy o muther fucking boy was I wrong!

Sit down for his response, I will not be sued from you fainting and hitting your heads on shit.

“Well, if that’s how you feel then I am sexually attracted to you, if anything we could be like, friends with benefits.”

Please send your condolences to my Post Office Box.

My fucking love life is over. Diminished. I really am destined for mason jars, rocking chairs and Faberge Egg collections, sitting on top of my doily collection, inside of my china cabinets from around the world collection…. In my fucking double wide trailer.

In fact 10 tears have fell from my eyes while typing this, I am in mourning. Have you a clue how hard it is for me to actually open up and let you in? On top of that actually prepare for an actual companion?
Microwave bammas I swear.
I guess its back to my slow cooker and living my life one day at a time……
Starting over is hard enough, maybe I’ll blog that one tomorrow. Maybe.

Mrs. B

I Should Be Working

I really should be performing my daily duties here on the old plantation. Oh well, I feel the need to release more grievances into the universe. Stifle your concern for the ozone layer and stuff – these gripes are 100 % organic. Let’s see where do I begin? Aww hell it doesn’t really matter, just so long as everything is released.

All Enablers Aside

This shit has got to stop. There are some things in life that you should just plain old not do and living as an enabler is one of them. Some knowingly enable and some are unwittingly giving people a reason to not strive for the next level of success. We all know that you have talkers and doers.

Stagnant wishing falls somewhere within that whole thing.

I am sure it is written somewhere, though not in this particular way but “you live according to the lifestyle that you afford yourself” afford being the operative word. If you can-not afford it then you can-not partake in it. You want it? You do what you need to do to get it. Simple enough right? WRONG! All these got damn enablers have diminished the value of hard work to the size and importance of a condom in a baltimoron’s wallet or handbag. It’s there, you see it and know how to use it, yet the effort in the act of leads you to say fuck it.

A true pity indeed.

Before I go on I must admit, I have been an enabler in my lifetime. Calm down! Hush your screeches of pure shock and disbelief, yes I said it. Your girl enabled. I can’t give an honest rational reason for this however my recognizing and re assessing the situation should bring me a form of redemption. So can I go on? May I continue to speak against something that I am as guilty of doing as the ones that I speak of? Fuck yeah I can, this here my juke joint! Besides, you learn from your mistakes, each one teach one -it got Precious out her mommas house so there has to be some good in it! I just have a flat out problem with the lack of work ethic and ambition that I have been noticing lately. Everything from the crackish 40 year old with his momma at the ATM machine to the “baby momma” that lets her ratchet ass negro drop her off at work so he can go home and write his “raps” in preparation of taking his 35 year old ass in the “studio” when she “get her taxes back.” This here must end. I can’t take it. This chain must break, I have children and I don’t want my baby boy bringing home a fourth generation keep a nigga baby talking about he is in love and he is going to “hold his boo down cuz he like the way she get low with it” nor do I want my baby girl talking about how her boyfriend just loves to hear her say “I got it – I got it- I got it”

Fuck you Ne-Yo, you know got damn well the bulk of your listening audience cannot comprehend the true meaning behind your lyrics. You done gon and confused some of these women out here. I will not go deeper into this, at least not today.

Love and Love

I am sure that the fact that I do not believe the bulk of our generation knows the meaning of love comes as no surprise to you. That little snippet is as common as a harlot at a free clinic. Recent events have caused me to dislike the word love and its many uses even more. I kind of thought to myself, “damn Sheli, don’t hate love hate its abusers” whatever…… same fucking difference to me.

I may not know the true meaning of the word love but I do know that you do not put the one you love in harm’s way. You also do not put yourself in harm’s way for love nor do you manipulate the minds of the less enlightened by the use of love in its emotionless form. Yes it is tricky and I could go on and on about my disdain for this horrible horribly used four letter word, I don’t want to keep you all held up until the end of time though. See I have a heart, I care - that doesn’t mean I love your ass though, I’m just saying…….

No really – I have come to the realization that I will probably self sabotage the fuck out of pretty much every relationship in my future. Due to my horrible young adult hood I am destined to be single. Every freaking good thing you can imagine about love was sucked out of me like an aborted fetus. Just gone, in what seemed to be a lifetime but in reality were a few blurred years. I have a complete disregard to that emotion and do not plan on changing that. It makes for better chill time. This word is tossed around and misused so much it’s a shame it doesn’t come with healthcare. This word misused makes the dumbest look even dumber, the finest horribly unattractive and transforms the most elegant into the grungiest. It simultaneously builds and destroys such a vicious outcome for some. An outcome like that can be either good or bad, depending on your use of the word. Vicious – Good or Vicious –Bad it’s actually vicious just the same.

I hate it and I always will. Each and every variation of the crap suck ass.

Well that about sums up the bulk of my gripes for now. I guess I’d better get back to the job that pays now.

Mrs. B

Shots, Preachers, Mistresses and Bacon

I wanted to blog about this and that and all types of things that have been happening as of late yet each and every time I sat down to write I would get distracted.

I was left with bits and pieces of everything from poetry to recipes…. I am proud to say that I am about 300 words into my short story collection…. Maybe I should spice up the literary world by publishing a collection of handwritten shit. Just because I am too lazy to type. Hey, that has a nice ring to it……

So here it is….. my ummmm, usual random vent blog… Enjoy

Taking Shots

Not back shots of course, I mean shots of that joy juice that gets me all ready to do tha hanky panky, tumble with the bundle…… you know “make hay” well recently I discovered the untrue side to a “bar myth.” There is no such thing as “Beer Goggles” That whole little phrase is a pure crock of shit. I say this because I went on a buffer meet for a friend of mine and not only was the guy unattractive from the start, after about 3 drinks he became repulsively unattractive. I was surrounded by unattractive men. Then again I was in Baltimore. Wait I take that back, I have seen a few “catches” here and there, in this instance I may have been invited out to the “unattractive guy’s watering hole” (UGWH)Nevertheless that whole Beer Goggles thing is nothing but a got damn scapegoat to ease the shame and guilt one would feel when facing one’s fling sober. Wait, I guess it’s not a pure crock of shit after all, I’ll drop the pure and just call it a crock…….


Assume

I just had to throw this in here, as I was leaving the Unattractive Guy’s Watering Hole I took a few moments to gather myself in the parking lot. While sitting there fighting back my tears of repulsion a rather “schwanky” BMW pulled into the lot…. You could faintly make out the silhouette of a bouffant style hairdo, leading one to think “there are women in this BMW” ahh hemm, it is 2010……… There was a group of about 7 or so members of the UGWH standing off to the side, they began to cat call and one said aloud, “I’m trying to ride with whoever is driving” From my position I could see that the car was occupied by a man and a woman, or was it? The scene was straight out of Belly, I was just waiting for the dusty chirren to run along side of the car in hopes of seeing their favorite celebrity. I got that in a sense, just replace the dusty chirren with dusty menfolk and there you have it….

So the car sat, by this time I am curious as to just how the hopeful fellow would do with getting the drivers information. I just had to see their reaction when this couple got out of the car. So I sat, cursing myself for not choosing a cell phone with a backlight and flash --- Hell - to each his own – whatever tickles your fancy ---- Like a flash, out jumps The winner and 1st runner up to Rupaul’s Drag Race --- But not really, yes two flaming gay men exited the vehicle, one in complete drag (honey chile was fierce) and one in a Metro Sexuals Finest – Skinny Jeans, Skinny Vest, Man bag and Mandals ---- Boy oh boy them dudes scattered like roaches, the shit was hilarious, I even heard faint sounds of regurgitation – I swear I did. Hey that’s what happens when you assume – you make an ass out of who??


The Preacher Man

There is an abundance of Reverends here in the Baltimore area. Is this a new trend? I do believe I have met 4 Preacher Men in the last few weeks. This is creeping me out. This is either

1. A sign from the lord up above that I need prayer and someone to lay hands on me.

or

2. A sign from the lord up above that I need prayer and for someone to lay hands on me.

Either way all of them mother fuckers have side talked prayer and laying hands on me --- unholy sinful ass bitches.*church clap*


I Blame it on the Warden

When in the hell did I go to sleep and wake up in the Trailer Park Zone? I am no Jerry Springer Alumni – I do not know the proper way to visit a man in prison without waiting in a long line. I have no clue as to the ETA’s of “jail buses” and a good amount of change for visiting room snacks. I am no lady waiting so do not treat me as such. I will keep the rest of my comments under wraps out of the fear that them “boys” may get me…. I’m fragile


The Baby Momma Collection

I am not sure who sings/raps this song but all I hear in the background as I type is “all these niggas and all these bitches” It has a “west coast” vibe to it. I do not feel like going on google, aside from the fact that a mere inquiry to lyrics.com damn near shut down my whole computer via porn pop ups, ha! I just don’t feel like it. Talk about awkward, imagine that call to Information Technology *hubba- hubba* luckily they were fully aware of this virus attempt and I was not the only one to experience it.

I shall now be a BING girl.

Moving on, these dudes and their haute couture summer 2010 baby momma lines are getting quite out of hand. I had the unthinkable happen, I was approached by a rather slovenly gentleman inquiring about child birth. Yes childbirth, apparently since I have a car seat in my vehicle his “baby mommas” and I have something in common. So much in common that I was respectfully invited to have his next child, he has a goal. He’s at baby number six and he informed me that he wants to father 10 children just like his pappy did……. I am torn, do I curse him for filth because of his blatant disregard to the values that come with childbirth or do I commend the poor lad for setting a goal and sticking to it?? Needless to say I left him confused and rethinking his approach towards women.

This to my fellow Baltimore Women, “you’re welcome” – Hey, it coulda been you

In closing I would just like to re-iterate the fact that although I have been blessed with girlish looks I am not interested in you, you half married bastard. Besides, just as the value of marriage has dropped so has the value of a mistress.

I would also like to say that I am in no way shape or form interested in eating like a Muslim. The next person I meat (pun intended) that tries to sway my bacon preferences will be made an example of. I do not wish to live my life porkless and bowing however many times a day in whatever direction so that my children can be abundantly giftless at Christmas time. If you were offended tough titties, I take offense in your slander of the other white meat.

Good Day Folks,
Mrs. B

No Greedies

It’s wonderful how a childhood tradition can translate into so many grown – up things. I have something to say……… A story to tell…….

This story involves three main characters, I will call them Ms. Tan, Ms. Gold and Candy Bag. I recommend you read this blog while sitting Indian style, munching on some animal crackers and sipping a juice box.

If you are good then you will have 15 extra minutes of play in the sandbox.

Ms. Tan loves to eat candy, she loves her candy so much that she will do any and everything for it. She carries her candy bag wherever she goes, work – school – mall – everywhere. She confesses her love for candy all throughout the day and night. She often empties her candy out onto the table and admires each piece one by one. She savors each and every single bite in a different way. There is no doubt that Ms. Tan is all about her candy. She values it so….

One day something odd happened, Ms. Tan got so used to eating candy that she just assumed it would always be accessible. She figured since she has invested so much admiration into her candy bag that it would never go empty, never fall behind, never - ever change its taste. She was confident in her candy bag and why shouldn’t she be? She kept it full, she put every morsel into it and removed them at her own will. The perfect woman to candy relationship and vice versa. Slowly but surely Ms. Tan began to leave her candy bag at home, she would remove certain pieces to munch on throughout the day, the load of the bag began to weigh her down. Instead of cuddling with her candy bag during movies at night she would again take out the pieces she desired and leave the bulk of the bag in the cabinet or on the shelf. Ms. Tan was secure in leaving her bag behind because she knew that candy bag knew just how much she once valued it, she was certain that she could leave and return to candy bag just as she left it.

Well candy bag had something different in mind. The bag would get excited everytime Ms. Tan came near, candy bag loved the time they spent, all it could do is replay the many times they spent together in its head. The late night cuddle sessions, the trips to the park and watching the children play, store runs to restock its contents…. The look in Ms. Tans eyes as she would just plain old love what was pulled out that bag – no matter the circumstance. Candy bag longed for Ms. Tan to once again include it in her daily routine, be it negative or positive all it wanted was to be loved as a whole again and not just a vessel for the certain pieces she adored. Days went by and candy bag just sat on that shelf dusty and stiff, the only movement it experienced was the opening and closing and removal of pieces. One day out of nowhere it happened – Ms. Tan grabbed that candy bag up, tossed it into her handbag and headed out the door – awww candy bag was on top of the world, just a happy and a riding to Ms. Tan’s beat…. They did everything together just like old times, life could not be better for them. It was back on and everything was seemingly smooth, until candy bag felt a breeze, it was a bit chilly and dark….. it only took a few moments to realize that it was alone. Ms. Tan had forgotten candy bag on the porch. Alone it sat, dedicated to Ms.Tan and confident she will return, scoop it up and apologize for all the wrong she has done, the hurt she has caused – nothing….. Days, weeks, months went by and there candy bag sat unnoticed and untouched on the porch. Ms. Tan would pass by on her way to and from wherever, not even so much as acknowledging its presence. Lonely it sat, once again.

Ms. Gold happened by their residence and noticed this beautiful sack of candy, just sitting – seemingly untouched for days. She was curious of its contents but knew it belonged to Ms. Tan because it was on her porch. She wanted to inquire about the bag but didn’t quite know how to ask, it was no secret that Ms. Tan and her Candy were inseparable. She just couldn’t figure out why the sack was just left to suffer the conditions of the elements all alone. Ms. Gold couldn’t take the suspense, one day she ventured right up on Ms. Tan’s porch and opened up that bag, it was a beautiful sight. So many different choices, the reflection of the sun caused different hues of light to flicker across her face, the excitement in her eyes told it all, she scored… the ultimate candy jackpot. Ms. Gold quickly placed the bag back where she found it and hurried off the porch. All she could think about was why Ms. Tan had left the candy bag so. She would see Ms. Tan going about her every day routine, walking right past the candy bag pulling out a piece every now and then, one day Ms. Tan even took candy bag back into the house, she sat it on the shelf once again but this time with the explanation on having so many bags that this one would have to stay behind. It was easier for her to select the pieces she would munch on throughout the day than to carry the load of the whole bag. So candy sat…….. Once again Ms. Tan scooped up candy bag for a cookout, she figured there would be snacks there that she could fill it up with, Once again candy bag was left…… at the cookout on a side table unnoticed.

Ms. Gold was there, she instantly recognized this bag and felt a pang of excitement in knowing what was inside. She carefully watched Ms. Tan and saw her blatant disregard for the bag. She decided then and there that she too wanted the joy that having a candy bag could bring. In an instant Ms. Gold snatched that bag up and was off. Admiring each and everything about it, eagerly removing the pieces wanting to know more and more about the different flavors and consistencies. Loving it and loving the fact that it was left alone, appreciating the opportunity to explore and get to know the pieces. Then one day out of the blue Ms. Tan happened past Ms. Gold and saw what was once her bag of candy peeking out of her handbag – At that moment Ms. Tan decided she liked not only candy but candy bag as well. She liked the fact that she could control and ration it even more. She snatched that candy bag from Ms. Gold and stomped away. Stopping at nothing to keep Ms. Gold away, she put candy bag deep down in the bottom of her drawer and locked it. She was satisfied with the fact that candy bag was in her possession even if it was just for mental comfort. Ms. Tan was content in knowing that she had stashed candy bag away for her personal use and forgot that their love was once a two way street. Ms. Tan was dependent upon the comfort that the candy in that bag gave her at her own will and selfishly kept it within her drawer……..

She would let candy bag out for special occasions and at times when it was convenient for her. All the while still pulling out bits and pieces in between. Candy bag began to realize it is worth something as a whole and desperately wanted to be left again. This time it’s different, Ms. Tan has grown stingy, She has began to manipulate candy bag into wanting to stay right down in that drawer, wanting to be stashed and picked through depending on the need, threatening it with off-brand candy and limited visits. She is good too, she has even incorporated tears and self pity into her routine. Ms.Tan is finally aware that there is value in her candy bag it only took for it to get snatched away and explored at least five or six times. A sad story because a candy bag has no real mind of its own in this instance….. all it has it what it has known and is told. How do you get through to a big ol bag of candy? Especially when the bag is stuck in the past memories of their once mutual affection? Especially when the bag has been brainwashed into living like a superhero to a damsel in self inflicted distress.

Mrs. B

V-Diaries: Why Do Men Cheat?

A true soldier in he own right, sista girl SONCERAE went into the fiery pits of man hell and asked the age old question, “why men cheat” I was lucky enough to be asked to view the video she posted as a result of her asking men (and I use that term loosely) of all ages this question. Me being the anti relationship/male bashing stay single fuck these lying ass negras advocate that I am Yall know I gotta weigh in on this topic, I can sum up my theory on why men cheat with one word…… Reassurance

Men need to constantly be reminded that their wangs can fit into holes. Ahh their forgetfulness is neither here nor there when it comes down to relationship status. Hey fellas it’s easy, if you think it fits it fits – Ur wang is of a cylinder shape her cooch is of a circular shape.

That is subliminally placed into your head in pre-school sir, remember these

Even still we have the hard headed (no pun intended) ones that just won’t commit the shit to memory. So they keep the why men cheat question in circulation. All the answers on this video are pretty much a crock of shit, WAIT - I will let you all be the judge, feel free to view and continue reading.........

See I told ya, the responses are

A crock of hot lies mixed with hotel soap scum and paper trail hoe shit.

A crock of post club hard on what does cooch feel like again oh I better test my wang in case it shape shifted doesn’t matter if I have a significant other at home helping my selfish ass through life shit ---

There needs to be a mini reminder segment that pops up after each quarter of his favorite sport.

“Hey You there, penis stand --- I’m of a cylinder shape homie, guess what, your side piece got a vagina just like you girl does…. It’s true, all women have vaginas… It’s been proven. There is no need for you to continue testing the theory.” “your side chick is readily available because she is not focused on taking care of your home/children, she’s focused on pure penetration, stop neglecting the homemaker and realize your whore stays prepped for wang while wifey stays prepped for life…” ~Sincerely yours, the Penis Association

It should also continuously run on monitors in restrooms, gas stations, brothels, freezer aisles at grocery stores, shoe stores and pharmacies. Until they get the point, hell any woman with a big ass should be mandated to have a mini LCD run across her derriere….. They are looking there anyway, well according the first few guys in this video they are ---

Hey it doesn’t have to be a fancy schmancy message it could simply read

“we all have these”

That’s simple enough, right?

Then again maybe it should say

“boys have penises and girls have vaginas”

That way they won’t be so prone to investigate……

Men need reassurance, they want to feel wanted just as much as we do…. They may have a lady at home taking care of business; him, the children, bills, working, cleaning house all that. Fuck you if you think she supposed to answer the door positioned for doggy style after all that shit. Bitch you put down the dumb shit to make the babies put down the dumb shit to concentrate on aiding in their being raised. Fuck, I’m tired of seeing young men in skinny jeans, balls all tight and shit – Because of yall’s lack of guidance the next generation’s sperm count is gon be near non-existent. Daddy too busy running around doing hole checks like that shit comes with a 401 K and Aetna --- We humans are in danger of extinction because needy ass penis stands can’t be satisfied with one woman.

Sure you can get the side piece prego but shit, after a certain age yall gon be birthing mentally/physically challenged mini humans. Why the fuck should that happen?

As I roll my eyes and stomp my feet in anger you all should check out SONCERAE’S youtube at www.youtube.com/sonceraefan

Oh and both men and woman can go here to get a subscription to her magazine
Block Dymez Magazine ---

http://www.blockdymezmagazine.com/

I think it would make a great stocking stuffer, let’s go back to the good old days when men touched their no – no spots in the bathroom while the ball and chain is busy getting ready for the next day. It will save on gas and RX co pays, you can be at home, have the big O and contribute in the banishment of all things skinny jeans related.

Ur Welcome,
Mrs. B

Raheem Avery De Mayo

I have no idea what the Chinese stuff says
I say it says Raheem…… Yall don’t know either so nan!

I heart Raheem DeVaughn AKA My Shugg Avery ----



So Raheem DeVaughn is a 5th of May baby….. A Taurus. That explains the whole Kung Fu grip incident at Sharpie Gate.

I wonder how old he’s turning
I bet he’s timeless
I bet there is no birth year on his certificate of birth --

When I woke up this morning I felt a small pang of glee in honor of Cinco De Mayo (the next best holiday to New Year’s Eve) and I wondered exactly how many reasons I had to get wasted, then I checked my calendar……. VIOLA thanks shugg and parents for giving me reason number 124 ---- Just when I think I can’t drink another sip, I’ma throw that last shot back, dance me a jig and pass the fuck out to the sweet soothing sounds of Raheem DeVaughn aka My Shugg Avery……

I don’t care if Margaret side eyes the shit outta me everytime I call him this,



she gots to learn to share. (Yes I see her in my thoughts, she tells me how pretty my smile is.)
Because he gon always be my wittle Shugg Avery, ya hear that Co. ? ALWAYS

Nothing but a near death experience can keep me from it ----




So in honor of your Birthday I got you a virtual cake --- It’s red velvet,
I ate a piece, I got hungry typing this up, oh and shugg, it's divine ---

I also got you a virtual gift-card to Target, I’m on a budget….

I picked this one because you seem like an animal lover......

I also got you a virtual CD, it's Jay Z’s Blueprint 13 --- (be honored, this isn’t set to drop for years to come…don’t leak any songs either, he has joined forces with the creole connection)


And last but not least, I got you and annoying ass ecard but I don’t have your email, soooo I sent it to myself instead, In honor of you of course…………

Enjoy ur day Shugg!!!!

~Mrs. B

Just a Ramble

So many things have been on my mind as of late. I am not sure where or how to begin. There are things that I wish to accomplish, there are situations that I want to rant about… there are folks that I want to put up for discussion - so many thing so little time. In addition to this I have males to bash, lives to ruin, a world to conquer (insert evil laugh) I’m joking about the latter – but not really. Urgh, is there such a thing as a multi vent? I guess that would be a tantrum huh? I’m gonna call it a vantrum…… or maybe a ventrum………

Let’s do this in an organized fashion—I will start out by listing the things that I wish to discuss

Women Drivers
Cheaters
Newly Single Men
Sloppy ass Negroes
The education of a Best Man wait, that’s a whole ‘nuther blog…. I gotta take my time with that one.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Food Network
Plastic Cutlery
Pre Menstrual Syndrome
Love

Women drivers (male included) get the fuck on my nerves, These cheatin ass dudes need to stop looking to me for comfort , I am not the newly single man test driver so back off and enjoy a damn grace period, all you sloppy slovenly ass men out here that think you got swag cuz of a label need prayer and soap and an iron, MLK did more than just say a speech you in bred mistake of a man, the food network needs to do parodies so I can LMAO while I eat, Plastic cutlery is the devil at work but welcomed at home, I hate doing dishes that’s what my 11 year old is for, PMS can kiss my ass, I hate that shit and love – FUCK LOVE, that shit don’t exist as it once did the new meaning of love is no child support court----


AHHHHHHH – that felt great….

Mrs. B

Men are Like Cake

So Ms. Juanita (Baby Boy) had it right, or should I say delivered it right. I am sure that she is not the first to say this and I am certain that I am not the first to actually agree with it.

When you in love with a man,
he can make you feel high.

So high you just be in outer space.

But a man can also make you feel low.

Real low. And he can keep you there.

Keep you down.

If you let him.

Men can make you feel high and I of all people know that they can make you feel low. In all reality men are just like things, they are just like stuff……. Nothing more or nothing less. Before I go on I would like to say that I am sure the “yall women this – yall females that” is coming. Please miss my comment section with that bull shit. Until I sprout a penis and begin to think with it I will continue to blog on the bias.

As I laid in my comfy bed last night I began to think about past relationships and food then my thoughts drifted to past relationships and items…… then out of the blue I began to think of past relationships and employment. One thing that remained consistent with my thoughts were “past relationships” and from that I began to realize just how much men reminded me of stuff in general.

Let’s use cake as an example shall we, I absolutely love love love red velvet cup cakes, cake - anything red velvet. I’d even devour the armadillo cake from Steel Magnolias if I could---- Sometimes I get in the mood for a good old slice or three of cake and as I eat it I feel mmm mmm good, devine, pure euphoria at an orgasmic level. With each bite I sing in my head “I’m eating caakeeee I’m eatttinnng cakkke” and I love it! I gain a few pounds and I see the glass as half full, thick thighs are fine, who cares? Then there are days when I am in a funk, nothing can console me so I do what? I eat cake. Only this time it’s different, these are not happy bites, these are bites of punishment full of remorse, no songs in my head, no tapping of the foot just plain old chewing and hating each and every second of my life. I think “why am I doing this to myself, this cake doesn’t make me happy.” I make me happy – no matter my mood this cake remains the same. I brought myself to this cake, it did not come to me…. It has not forced me to partake in its sweet velvety goodness. This is completely my doing and for what? Just to have a bit of what I like. Just to regret the fact that my waistline is on maternity because of my desire? I am sure by now you are twisting your nose like WTF does cake have to do with men, well I’ll tell ya. It can make me feel high and it can make me feel low. WRONG, I can make me feel high and I can make me feel low. No matter how I feel or what I do that hunk of cake remains the same, it comes off different according to my situation.

As with men. Let’s talk about Satan, There were times when he made me feel like the best thing since sliced bread, I’m just taking it all in…. shucking and a jiving to his beat then on the flip side this same dude would make me feel like the shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe. To who’s fault? None other than my own……. I chose to dance to the good and cry at the bad, all the while he never changed, that was just him. He had his good times and he had his bad times I was the deciding factor in my serenity. It was up to me to choose if I would deal with it and strap up for the roller coaster ride or hop off at the next exit because I knew the results of each mood. There is no changing a man, who’d mess with the perfect Red Velvet Cake recipe? Can you make it better? And if you do then it’s not the same cake that you fell in love with, is it new and improved? Nope not at all. The end result will still leave you full of satisfaction or full of regret. It’s the same damn cake! It’s the same damn man!

Just like shopping, you could spend - spend - spend and remain happy with your purchases, even through bill time! Or you can spend – spend - spend and hate looking into your closet because the articles of clothing take on the hues of final notices. Either way the sport stayed the same, you decided when to go in. You decided what to purchase fully aware of the consequences, this is not your first time completing transactions you are a grown ass woman that has been shopping for years. You my friend are all too familiar with the layout of your favorite store or website. Just as familiar as you are with that man.

Employment doesn’t fall too far from this, life is in fact what you make it. Some folks have been stuck in dead end jobs for years, from one to the next yadda yadda – you know what to expect from this type of employment yet you do nothing to put yourself in a better position. Instead you punch in – punch out – play your numbers and hope for a miracle rescue win. Before you know it the amount of your losing lotto tickets are equivalent to a down payment on your dream home… Your state’s lotto is rolling in dough and your sitting at home scamming on a bag of weed to help spark your creativity because “one day” you gon make it……. Again, just like a man…. How much more will you put into a relationship, (whatever type of relationship it may be) before you realize you’re fucking a damn receipt book?

Look at me rambling – I could go on and on… I just had to get this off of my chest, now it’s time for a slice of cake…. Some light online shopping and a quickie…………..

Mrs. B

Expulsion

Hello out there!! I haven’t been posting lately because I am tired of the repetitive “I hate everything” blogs that I “paxadently” produce. I really do not hate everything per say, just the bulk of every molecule in existence.

Spirit world included

And the underworld for that matter

I do know that my dysfunctional past has a bunch to do with my outlook on life, which is sad really.

Too bad I am a born grudge-holder.

I am not capable of “letting go” as easily as others. I tend to hold on to things, both good and bad for months even years and I am convinced that my stash spot is full!

Hence - the monstrous headaches that I have been enduring for the last few weeks, off and on for hours on end. No amount of DC’s finest or Excedrin could take my pain away! This has got to stop, through this I see an outlet and it’s conveniently titled – expulsion.

Yes it has taken me one too many headaches to realize my actions are unhealthy. I must “expel” my disdain towards “whatever” into the universe. Not under the guise of a rant or vent, not to be confused with a confession or a rage fueled temper tantrum – no not at all. This and future expulsions will (and I use that term loosely) be as pure as a born again virgin, as fresh as a newly signed rap artist, as innocent as a husband visiting his ex-girlfriend ----SCRATCH <--- you see guys that anger just leaks out all willy nilly. Why did I type that? Why are these evil thoughts in my head? Here I am attempting to ever so gently “expel” my angers, my disdains, all that I loathe and the beings that I have come to wish death upon into the universe …….. I mean really………. what gives?

Is there a secret serum that can rid me of these hindrances? Maybe I can get one of those candles from the grocery store with the prayers on the side……. …

Or maybe I can just live my life according to the theme song to “The Facts of Life”

An excerpt for your reading pleasure, feel free to sing along:

You take the good, you take the bad,
you take them both and there you have
The Facts of Life, the Facts of Life.

There's a time you got to go and show
You're growin' now you know about
The Facts of Life, the Facts of Life.

When the world never seems
to be livin up to your dreams
And suddenly you're finding out
the Facts of Life are all about you, you.

Mrs. B

"Don'ts"

In my haste to be done with everything I forgot to be done with everything. This makes sense to me and you too if you can relate to my contradiction filled, mundane existence—Here I am wrapped up in the construction of my checklist of “don’ts” and I realized that I have been putting damn near all of my energy in exactly what I told myself I had to banish to the fiery pits of hell, never to be thought of again.

La-la-la-la-la, don’t do this, get rid of that, stop buying this, block the email, don’t eat that anymore, throw those away, clean that up, take that back, don’t you call him, stay from over there, La-la-la-la-la

These thoughts cloud my head each day. It’s not that I am procrastinating it’s that I literally develop at least 5 new don’ts a week…… it’s sickening even. I try something new and develop hatred towards at least one part of it. I noticed this on a recent outing with a Texan fellow – We had dinner, I didn’t even enjoy the good in the dish, I ate to taste the bad in the dish, what it was missing, how it could have been better, how I could improve on someone else’s recipe…. Pure Grinch like behavior. I don’t do it on purpose, it’s as if I have been taken over by the creator/s of The Sour Patch Kids.

If only I could master the art of grudges, the essence of banishment, the true act of zero tolerance – imagine that, me, she who rids herself of all things unholy unsheli with ease, as opposed to repetitively coaching herself to do so. Some of this can be blamed on my pushover-like tendencies, there I said it – I have a soft side. Not to be confused with a Charmin like softness though, when comparing to paper products I’d say my softness is equivalent to cardboard. I could be completely done with something at 11:45 am and by 2pm I’m thinking of reasons why I shouldn’t be. Contradiction at its finest.

I need a sponsor, someone to aide me in being done with something for good. I can admit my weakness, that’s the first step to recovery right?

Mrs. B

Universe Please Take These Thoughts From My Head - -

Happy Thursday to each and every one of you, I am feeling the need to release yet another rant into the universe. After all, this is the best way for me to cope with my unrealistic selfish ways. I am too lazy to act out and throw tantrums. That takes energy that I would much rather put into extracurricular activities. I don’t have the time to analyze where I stand, or should stand in certain relationships. Be it personal or work related. The best that I can do is exist. This is not to be confused with a stagnant Shells going about a depressing day to day routine in hopes of a miracle, what I mean is I can only be me in all of my glory till death us do part…. Hell, even then I may stick around to get a laugh out of spookin folks.

As most of you are aware I am not a chameleon AT ALL. I can’t do the whole “change up” when certain folks come around, hence my short lived plight with corporate America. I mean really, I am what I’m working with. That’s it and that’s all. Just me.


Let’s see what else, oh me and my “lonely’ as I call it. Or is it my lonely and I? Well either way I am learning to control my lonely. The best way for me to explain this is - I get dangerously lonely sometimes, as we all do. With that comes boredom and I am liable to start fires just to see response times and what not, okay not that serious but you get my drift right? It’s even harder when Sheli wants company but Juanita wants to be alone. Most times I just throw a few shots back and let Sherylle decide. That way I don’t have to choose sides. Menfolk don’t always understand my need for attention which is understandable seeing as how most times I am only in contact for my benefit. The problem comes in when someone slaps them with the “clue stick” and my antics are discovered. That’s always a blower.


When a conversation with you feels like pulling teeth it’s time for me to hike up my dungarees and skidaddle. In no way am I going to force myself upon you. It’s not my fault that you do not realize the blessing that has been bestowed upon you in the form of my presence – that’s your loss. All I can do is neatly tuck the memory of you inside my hope chest and pray that one day you will get a clue, where’s the “clue stick” in this instance huh? Take it how you want it, I’m just not really into the whole thing anymore. Even though the available applicants are few and far between, I am going to go ahead and give it a try. I think at least deserve the luxury of random phone calls. Damn.


I really hate the whole “in a relationship” thing when people use it to their advantage. I actually fell for a guy that did this on the regular, until I realized that all he does is “spin records” and possibly penises. Yeah I deserve a drink or two.


Missing a few of my old flames. I can-not believe I just typed that. In all honesty I am actually missing someone. Someone must have spiked the coffee and not with khalua! Someone spiked it with stupid serum or something, either that or my inner desperate woman is screaming for attention. I say this because the flames that I speak of have each played an intricate part in my decision to request the banishment of all males between the ages of 25-34 from Sheli’s World.


The end, I think
Mrs. B

Too Busy Wanting It

Yes I am starting off the year with yet another confusing ass revelation to my spinster ass ways. I am sure we are all aware of the all too familiar “I don’t want a relationship” or the “I don’t have time for all the extras” that is until you watch that one sappy love story or hear that one ballad that sends you into a whirlwind of emotions. (Or in my case a whirlwind of vodka ridden emotions) this does not only happen in my drunkenness I promise. My reaction to the big “R” varies daily. I feel a range of emotions, anywhere from being in awe of the lovely hand holding couple to smiling graciously at the man that hugs his woman ever so gently while they wait in line at the ATM. Sometimes I find myself wanting to know how it feels to have a man pick me up from work so I don’t have to deal with the stressful drive home and even feeling a slight pang of envy as an office mate gets her usual afternoon “boo time” phone call.

Then on other days I interpret the same actions in a different light, I see that couple holding hands and think to myself how possessive and insecure they both are, who holds hands with someone over nine years old when crossing the street anyway? Then I see the damn leech at the ATM with his personal teller and mentally curse his ass for filth and wonder how ol girl is gonna react when he leaves her ass. Oh and the dude that pics up his girl from work, has no choice since his lame ass ain’t workin anyway. Probably a “stay at home” dad that’s about to be a “rapper” blah- Then I want to disconnect the phone wires when the Mr. calls the Mrs. To check her ETA, he gotta make sure all remnants of the mistress are gone before wifey gets home - -


Confused I am and confused I will be. I don’t think I will ever have that special something with that special someone. I am too busy wanting what I am having trouble comprehending. I have realized that the old saying “you’ll never find love if you look for it” is true. I am guilty of partaking in the whole I am going to let love find me mumbo jumbo and alas it has been revealed that I am destined to be single. It fits me better than involved. Almost fits like a glove.

I don’t want to "wrap" yall up, IJS

Mrs. B