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

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

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

"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

The Mansplit

Happy Tuesday All!

I have been itching to write a good old fashioned vent blog for quite some time now, I have recently been blessed with the perfect degree of pure Fuckery to get the ball rolling……….. In addition to this cyber temper tantrum that I am about to post I feel the need to ask a few questions. Just to get my queries out into the universe in hopes that some Good Samaritan will pass by my blog and leave some answers in the comment section.

I love men, I swear I do. I don’t want to hurt them. I just want to hug them – kind of like Elmira.

These men out here keep so much shit with them. Half of these bastard children don’t know what the hell to do with themselves. The other half are scared of change and would much rather sit and talk about what it is they want out of life. As yet another decade passes them by they sit and wonder what life could have been. They re-live all the wrong choices they have made from the shouldas to the wouldas as they throw hate at the ones that were bold enough to have a plan and stick to it. You can find one on your nearest corner, stoop, park bench or sofa. (35 years old wearing true religions) Easy to spot they are – just one look into their face gives off that old head vibe, the look of them being the sole human to come from a hard childhood. (The answer for everything) The air about them screams I am the soul survivor of hardships and I fucked up my chance at success therefore those around me must keep me cozy down here. If you listen real close you can hear them chanting the failure of others. You can hear them saying I must stay surrounded by those that are just like me, that way I can continue to justify my failure by not leaving the hood and staying true to my peers. The stench of hindrance that seeps from their pores is almost permanent, kind of like cigarette smoke in your hair. Their mannerisms act out “stay the fuck down here with me dog” without them even moving a muscle.

You can attempt a conversation just for kicks and figure them out by the time your body completes one cycle of blood flow. Psychiatrists say body language aides in pinpointing a lie. Some are so devious as a result of their "upbringing" that they have mastered control of the tell tale signs of bullshitting. They are quick but not as sharp as most. They tell on themselves through contradiction. Their very presence is contradictory. The common line “oh I’m not like the others” loses its finesse when your aura screams otherwise, you are not like the others yet you are a cookie cut of the rest, you want to better yourself without sweating, you want success without hardships, you’re single in a relationship, you have no children but you have two or more kids. The usual. the fuckery, their life.

What about the undecided ones, as wishy- washy as a three year old. I can’t even say a five year old because at that age most children can focus long enough to complete a jumbo puzzle. Going non- stop from sun up to sundown. In lust with everyone out of love for themselves. Selfish for the most part but sweet for personal gain…… No real goal for life, willing to wing it just to get by another day. So stereotypical-Sad I know, so what do we do? We try to coax them into putting that energy and mentality into something worthwhile….. the truth is a necessary pain. It’s imperative in the reconstruction of a stagnant man. Most can’t make it past the realization period and they fold. They tuck themselves inside a 5th of dark liquor or a cigarillo. Would this person think it’s time to quit if they have lived through three eras of roll-ups? These grown ass “keep a nigga” babies gone wrong are really fucking with society. Call it what you want but from my viewpoint the wishy -washiness is a direct result of “daddy wasn’t there” syndrome.

The attachment issues that they hold inside keep them from nurturing others. Its not that they don’t know how, it’s that they only know how when it’s convenient for them. Of course he is going to love you when his ass has no home, the jump offs are hip, his money is low and he knows you’re cooking. That dude is going to be right up in your shit playing house. Don’t get too comfy though because once he deceives his next asset you may forget how he looks for a minute. There goes that drifter thing again. There goes the next woman to be called out her name for scowling at a dude just for saying hi. It’s partly her fault, yeah that is true. In most cases that same woman is an enabler……….. Either way that dude is wrong because more than likely he is on the prowl.

Whew that was a great vent. No for my questions, there are three that have been bothering me for a few months.

1. Why do we continue to enable the wrong type of behavior?

2. Why are some folks so co-dependant that they put up with blatant disrespect on a daily basis?

3. Why do we all have that one friend that you never hear from until their counterpart is messing up and they need someone to talk to?

Mrs. B

One step at a time yall…. One step at a time.

The Side Dish

I wrote this blog months ago, I felt the need to repost this in effort to help out a dear friend of mine that is on the verge of becoming the vegetable of a meat eater………..

So here it goes – this one’s for you girlie!

I wanted to blog today so that I can get some insight on my most recent dilemma. I am sure you have all guessed by now that I have been seeing someone. Well sort of. Let me explain a little about me. I am stingy and selfish, I hate liars and I must get my way. I throw random temper tantrums from the smallest mishaps and I love to smoke cigarettes and drink alcohol. That about sums me up.

This is what I see when I step outside of myself and take a gander at this Sheli person.

Which is why I feel the need to express how I, Sheli, almost ended up as the side chick.

I was on the plate and I almost made it to the table

I mean really, picture me as the string beans! The freaking mashed potatoes and gravy, the corn on the fucking cob, the got damn succotash, the damn asparagus sprinkled with hollandaise sauce, the fucking peas and carrots, the baked macaroni and chee---- wait I don't mind being some bomb ass baked macaroni and cheese –ah hem, my point being – I am the main chick damn it! I don't give two shits about anyone else once I come into play! Call it what you want as long as you call it! My relevance is so necessary.

Let me explain my madness

You may have multiple folks you are dealing with - lets say three. Not necessarily sleeping with them all but these three are the closet thing to you outside of family. Now out of the three there is one that you are head over heels for, the other two are relevant but you really don't care if they ever call or come again, the problem is those are the two that are trying to wife/husband your ass! All the while the keeper really doesn't have time for you. So what do you do? You entertain yourself with fillers. Yes the other two are kept around to compensate for what you want but don't have, you trick yourself into believing they are worth your time. These two combined do everything that you want the keeper to do. Pure misery. Fuckery at it's best. The fillers can do whatever the hell they want with whoever the hell they want but that keeper, oohhh that keeper had better not stray cause then it's gonna be some smoke in the city!

This shit is so fuckin twisted yall, pure selfishness because yeah you may have that one main guy or girl with your fillers on the side and it's fine, because it's you, but man o man why in the hell do you get so fucking pissed when you find out your main guy or girl has a filler or two of his or her own?

Okay on to my point. I started out in this dudes life as filler, which is fine cause he filled plenty 'o nights 'o mine but I'm sayin though, how the fuck you gon attempt to pull the wool over my nosey ass eyes? I know everything damn it! I fucking birthed the next generations Wendy Williams for Pete's sake! The whole no time for Sheli thing is coming to light, either way it goes I don't want to be around for the outcome. Some folks are not cut out for the whole main girl side chick thing because they are weak

Guy A + girls B, C and D = Guy A is chasing girl B
Girl B + guys E, F and G = Girl B is chasing guy E
Guy E + girls H, I and J = Guy E is chasing girl H - And so forth and so on,

A fucking circle. I think I need new shoes

As long as you enter someone's life as filler you will never become the main one. There is always gonna be the one that is truly wanted in the back of their mind and if and when their time comes your ass is gonna be back at the filling station. (If you allow it) It's all or nothing with me, which is totally hypocritical. I can even take it to the whole "do as I say and not as I do thing" Yeah I am having an issue.

I am a woman scorned damn it, there is a mile long list of issues that I have with even the smallest form of commitment. I am sure that dudes have issues as well but I am more important than you damn it!

I need a shrink – I want to vent to someone that gets paid to evaluate me and give me medication prescriptions.

I did a blog about filler once; don't get me wrong they are nice to have. Especially in the winter, but it's when you come across that filler with potential that things get all messy and shit.

I hope this helped - -


Mrs. B

She has my number like Nah Nah Knee Nah Nah -

The names in the proceeding blog have been altered in effort to protect the author from going from bank accounts to commissary.

On Saturday evening fuckery occurred and I am not pleased at all. I was chillin-chillin minding my business when my cell phone rang. A foreign number illuminated my screen and the little devil on my shoulder got to dancing. When this happens I usually stifle his ass and go on about whatever I am doing, I do this because whenever he gets to dancing on my shoulder I know trouble is a-brewing. I was a tad tipsy and against my better judgment I let that tiny menace talk me into pushing the green button. Why has thou forsaken me lord? Have you no shame Satan? What I’m gon do yall? What I’m gon do?

I believe I am too sexy – all the boys wanna get with me I’m black Barbie up all night having fun I like to party just like the white one--- (that’s my ringtone)

Inmate # 20018 -Hello

Inmate # 20018 -Hello

Inamte # 20018 - Hel-fuckin-lo

Mrs. Chicken -Oh is this inmate # 20018, this is Mrs. Chicken I have a question

Inmate # 20018 -hey Mrs. Chicken what’s up?

Mrs. Chicken- well have you seen satan? He’s missing

(I chuckle at the thought of me knocking all her fronts out for calling my phone with pure bullshit)

Inmate #20018 -ummmmm Mrs.Chicken is he missing from his mother or from you?

Mrs. Chicken -from me

Inmate # 20018 -girl bye then his ass aint missing then

Mrs. Chicken -but he has been gone for two hours

Inmate # 20018 -Girl what you saying? Even the police wait 24 hours before they file a missing persons report. You are calling me of all people – why?

Mrs. Chicken -well because you his babies momma and he always answers the phone for you and I thought you could tell me where he is

Inmate #20018 -Heifer If you don’t go somewhere and get grown ! why in the hell would I know where he is? What I can tell you is who he’s cheating on you with, call Little Miss Make up that’s who keeps tabs on his dusty ass.

Mrs. Chicken -oh I know he cheats on me with her, I’ma call her phone too but I don’t like calling her cuz she plays on the phone.

Inmate # 20018 -did you hear what you just said when you said it?

Mrs. Chicken -Yeah why

Inmate # 20018 -and you still think it sounds good when said out loud?

Mrs. Chicken- I mean I am sayin I know he runs around and I keep asking him to stop but he wont. He has been not answering his phone for two hours. I know he will answer if you call because he always does when I am with him

Inmate # 20018 – Mrs. Chicken, please refrain from contacting me. Like you were told before Satan is now your problem. I have no desire to contact him unless it’s regarding him playing dad for a few days……. I have no idea where he goes or what he does I do know that you are one of many and he will never change. He’s gonna end up just like his dad and brothers and you are the perfect person to go along for the ride.

Mrs. Chicken –Well I keep asking him to change but he wont, now he wont answer his phone or call me back. He’s probably with little Mrs. Make up like you said earlier I don’t know if I want to leave him alone. I just want you to know that I been had your number.

Inmate #20018 -Let me call the national guard…………

Okay that about sums up the conversation and there is a shitload of things wrong in this blog. Let me point out my favorites.

#1 Why in the hell is Mrs. Chicken snooping through Satan’s phone for my number?

#2 Why in the hell would Satan allow himself to be so vulnerable as to allow her access to his phone? *side note, when satan and I lived together he suffered from wayward penis syndrome, it was so bad that he would literally sleep with his phone in his pocket with his hand on the phone*

#3 Why in the hell would she call me as if I am going to run down his whereabouts for free?

#4 Who the hell drunk dials these days? I mean I drunk text and all but damn!

#5 Did that nut really say that she knows he is running around cheating on her and she “asked” him to stop? Blessed is his name yall because a bitch was about to buy some contractor clean up bags off this one!

Oh and #6 Did this train wreck really attempt to converse with me about Satan as if we were sipping hot tea and nibbling on butter cookies at a corner bistro some damn where?

Lawdy #7 Did she attempt to one up me by saying that she been had my number? Someone needs a sanity test.

I mean I MOVED out of state people….. the fuckery follows….. It’s like the IRS and shit. You can never escape its wrath.

Mrs. B

Don’t pull that out of sight out of mind shit on me either yall-

I'm So Sorry That Your Father's a Perv......

Hello readers, I haven’t been blogging much since I’ve been so busy handling grown up business and camping out at the MVA. I have tried to steer my blog from the personal but yet again another “Sheli’s Wrong” situation has arisen. I will save you the intricate details and give you a basic rundown of the events. Feel free to leave your take on the situation in the comment section. I mean call me crazy but I am quite confident when I say I can determine when someone is being pervy or not. You be the judge.


Ah hem----

I have this childhood friend and like most childhood friendships we considered each other as family. Well this friend started staying with her dad off and on as she got older and there were many times when I would go and visit. We did the normal teenage things, clubbing, drinking, smoking and calling boys – you know the basics. Our bond grew stronger as we got older and we were somewhat inseparable. Until the worst thing in the world happened, I mean just thinking about it makes me want to earl.

My friend went out of town during the time that I was car shopping and she suggested that I enlist her dad to take me to a few lots, fair enough - we all agreed and it was set. Early that morning I got up and went over to her dad’s house and we were on our way. The ride started out normal, the usual banter took place and everything seemed fine. That is until relationships came up. Keep in mind that this is her FATHER! This perverted invert told me that when I was younger and first started dating he wanted to get a piece of me! Umm excuse? No canvas can hold the emotions that ran through me. To add salt to the wound he said that he even told his daughter this on more than one occasion! Add a rack of other perverted fuckery and there you go ---- I called it, I was right --- that nigga's a perv! I count to ten in three languages and tell him that there was or is no chance of anything happening and I consider his daughter family. He then goes on to say how he could help me legally doop Satan (the father of my children for you new readers) and talking about his weak ass retirement money and shit. What was he thinking would happen? Lawdy have mercy Kelly Clarkson Eddie Murphy I deserve a fucking Oscar. After this being said I managed to get through weeks of being around him but not around him.

I guess my friend noticed the difference. Yeah I could have just flat out told her what happened but like I said we know each other and I was certain that she would twist it to make herself look good. Which she did… go figure. I basically told her that I haven’t been around much because old pervo lives with her now and I am uncomfortable around him. In addition to that I don’t want my daughter around him. Is that so wrong? No I don’t think he would try to molest her. I know that he will sit back and look at her until she gets older then more than likely try his pervish hand with my child. Which would result in mass murders and what not, think about it - who wants to live freely for years only to get life for murder? So me being the plan ahead person that I am I decided to cut the shit off at the pass. No I don’t want to be around her dad ever again in life. Coincidentally he lives with her so ummmm 1+1=2. Duhh I wont be stepping foot in her door.

Just to think back on our teen years up until now, the many nights I slept over at his house. The times we would dress for the club or even lay around the house in our pajamas. The times we would dance to our favorite songs and go on outings together…. This Muther Fucker was having sexual thoughts about me! This girl even went so far as to brush off my reason with an LOL. Yeah that’s maturity at its finest. Don’t inquire about the accusation just LOL and say that I “made up a lame excuse as to why I haven’t been around” Yeah that sounds right I would totally accuse someone’s father of something like this for no apparent reason………..


Mrs. B

MAKE $105,000 IN SIX MONTHS

Someone in Australia had too much time on their hands and decided to come up with something else to deter my attention away from my local news. You know damn well I am going to check up on this more than my own dang finances and shit. Curses to that nosey gene that has been with me since birth!


Basically if chosen this is your job description

The successful applicant, who will stay rent-free in a three-bedroom beach home complete with plunge pool and golf buggy, must be a good swimmer, excellent communicator and be able to speak and write English.

I would sooooo freaking love to see someone I know doing this, I would audition but I don’t speak English. Oh yeah and this

"They'll also have to talk to media from time to time about what they're doing so they can't be too shy and they'll have to love the sea, the sun, the outdoors," said acting state Premier Paul Lucas.

"The fact that they will be paid to explore the islands of the Great Barrier Reef, swim, snorkel and generally live the Queensland lifestyle makes this undoubtedly the best job in the world."

You can apply at http://www.islandreefjob.com/

Mrs. B would love to watch in support of one of her readers………