Two times a year 2am does not exist, forcing the loss of a moment, I want to live in that hour. So effortlessly erased, catapulted into the universe as we continue to exist. All things happen according to plan. There is scientific reason for this “Saving of the Daylight” and I enjoy the mystery in living in that hour. Somewhere out there with a multitude of “sprung forwards” and “left behinds”. Free to my thoughts, actions and lifestyle. All of the minutes graciously collected for me, a world built upon diverted occurrences. The vagueness in the hour entices me.
What could have happened leading to what could have been if the change of a clock did not alter my time.
Maybe the loss of an hour saved a soul, just as the gain of one hour gave perfection to a plan. Things, moments and people are given and taken away. You give me an hour and just as you take it I feel the same. Only my surroundings have changed. Darkness and Daylight are toggled around me. An alter universe rotating on the hour, living in the transgression of absolute exchange. A continuous orbit in unchanging time, I have my hour, my hour stuck at the point of transference. The clock strikes “hour” and I continue. Savings for you translates to my eternity. A desire to be completely intertwined in the nanoseconds of the seconds that build the minutes of my hour becomes irresistible. Longing to experience 60 lost minutes in one second creates an unappeasable interest in the lucidness of saved time. 1:59 to 3am and my clock strikes “hour” 1:59 to 1am my clock strikes the same. What would life be like living in this hour? I can tell you it is truly divine, two times per year I envision this hour, my life in this hour and I love it.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Friday, November 19, 2010
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
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
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
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
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
Monday, August 30, 2010
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
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
Monday, July 19, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
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
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
Thursday, May 13, 2010
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
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.........
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
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