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

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

Randomness Anyone?

I woke up this morning and decided that it is high time that I post a blog on here. I really don’t have a main topic or any key talking points, I pretty much just want to get some things off my chest.

Let’s see where do I begin?

Do I start with my expected male bashing or a good old fashioned workplace rant? Should I expose some undercover perverts, shout my love for Kobe’ Beef from the mountain tops, list my do’s and don’ts of fall men fashions and end this with a nice drink recipe for you and your significant other?

Yes you are right, too many questions. Since when have I actually cared what people wanted me to talk about? This here my blog joint and I am just going to fill this post with as much “inappropriate jargon” (I love that phrase) that I can muster up for the day. Enjoy.

Dating When You Have a Child, Girl Child or Boy Child – It Doesn’t Even Matter and the Undercover Perverts That Live Among Us.

This is a scary thing, how in the hell do we determine who is safe to be around our children? Some may say the usual criminal background check or good old fashioned intuition. I say although these methods have proven reliable in the past there is also the possibility of meeting someone pre-pervert, pre-molestation charges, pre-murder rap, pre-robbery conviction etc. Which solidifies the fact that you never really know somebody- For example, I am not a killer but- (you know the rest) and given the situation I may just have someone thinking damn, I never thought ‘ol Shells would have done that person like that. Hence meeting someone pre pervert and what not.

So in the end I say just don’t bring anyone around your chirren unless you are physically and mentally prepared for the trials and tribulations of getting to really know them. Hell all you really need out of a relationship is sex anyway – have casual relations and keep it moving. This way you won’t have the possibility of fainting while cooking breakfast and watching the news when your latest fling’s sketch illuminates your screen while he or she is dressing your children for school. Trust me you will thank me later.



My Love for All Things Kobe’ Beef

Will never end. I don’t care who or what situation shall arise my love for my dear Kobe’ will never cease. I love you and all of your beefiness – shout out to creativity.

One last thing…..

Fall Men Fashions

Should not consist of fitted slacks, jeans, shirts, sweaters, blazers or draws. The only thing fitted should be your cap. There is a fine line between tailored and fitted – discover it and go gracefully my dear Manchild.


Oh and the drink of the evening shall be…..

The BONECRUSHER

You will need;

1/2 oz gin1/2 oz vodka1/2 oz triple sec1/2 oz rum1/4 oz grenadine syrup1/4 oz Rose's® lime juice2 oz sweet and sour mix1 oz Champagne

Combine all ingredients (except Champagne) in a cocktail shaker and shake vigorously. Pour into a tall glass, preferably a pint glass or large brandy snifter with ice, and float the champagne on top with a squeeze of lemon. Throw on your best pair of imnotdoinshit sweats, click on the TV and relax to the sweet soothing images of syndicated television!

Mrs. B

So...... I have to research the "H1N1"

I really don’t follow the news to much. Makes me feel too grown lol……… This whole H1N1/Swine Flu debacle has however caught my attention. I don’t know too much about it, I could google it but why bother I know the basic info. Well I thought I knew the basic info - You catch it you’re doomed. Only prayer and superb medical attention can save you from the fiery pits of hell or the fluffy clouds of heaven…… But that’s not it, there was an actual survivor on the news, she had this same virus back in like ’64 or some shit like that. I was like whatever at first, until JJ Evans referred to it on an episode of Good Times. Yes, call me crazy, but it took a 1970’s sitcom to convince me that there is hope for Swine Flu sufferers.




Just last night I received word that this omen has hit close to home. A child at a close friend/relatives school was “somewhat” diagnosed with this virus. This leads me to the point of my blog -


The less than ghetto antics of the DC public school system

How in the hell could a PRINCIPAL send a voice recording to parents stating that a child was diagnosed with the swine flu and hasn’t been in school since Monday and that the school may or may not be shut down. They will not know until they receive word from the CDC. Oh but please send your children to school on tomorrow, we will send a note home with them regarding the closing of the campus. What the hell does that mean? I could be having a slow moment here but ummm ------- Yeah.

Bitch if you don’t close that mutha fukka down and get some sterilization techniques poppin!



Who the hell in their right mind would send their babies to school when there was a confirmed case of this virus in one of your students? It’s bad enough you don’t know you were exposed until you are chatting it up with the Grim Reaper himself, but to actually suggest that these children grace the halls of your cesspool is absolutely insane. I don’t mean any harm but I can see why Marion’s ass was hittin the pipe! Especially if he had to work directly with someone like you! Man o man he had him a pusher man, some folks can’t take the pressure.

This coming from the same PRINCIPAL that proceeded to withdraw a child that was at the top of his class for four straight years. Principal’s honor roll and all that jazz for none other than ---- poor academic achievement………….. I sure wish I was in line when Degrees were being handed out.

So now, just as everything else that I show interest in once it strikes within my radius I must research this whole H1N1 thingy. I have questions and I really don’t give a damn if my research proves enough to cancel my whole rant, I hate that bitch and she hates me. So fuck her and her dry ass voice messages…….

Mrs. B

Fuck You Friday !

I will be back shortly, feel free to leave your FUCK YOU's in the comment section.

Oh but before I go----

I would like to leave a huge F-U-C-K - Y-O-U to Satan and Co.

Gracias........

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.

FUCK YOU FRIDAY'S

Good Morning my lovelies! Yes you have guessed it, it is time for another lovely rendition of FUCK YOU FRIDAY’S – all up n through my blog! So umm have at it in the comments section and don’t hold back!

I’ll start with an uber huge FUCK YOU to the inventor of the underwire.

I’ll round it off with a FUCK YOU to the shit for brains that built the password retrieval system for my storage unit………..

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-

These Grown Ass Children Are Getting On My NERVES!

What the fuck is wrong with you? I have heard of “bi-polar” and all but umm in all my years on God’s green earth I have never met a “tri-polar” I guess I could use the term MPD, nah, fuck that it’s my blog and I like the way “tri-polar” rolls off the tongue. Yall know Mrs. B will self-sabotage the fuck out of a situation and I can honestly say that I had nothing to do with it this time. All I did was say how I felt, since when is that wrong? I mean if my POV is not cool with you then you need to look up the word my. If from the outside you portray a jay chain smoking, stagnant, hypocritical, no goal having, stuck in the past stick in the mud then that’s more than likely what you are. How dare you accuse me of being misinformed? Have you no shame……….. What in the hell were you thinking when the first lie you told me came out your mouth? As if I were dumb enough to believe it! Hmpf! you owe me an apology! Hell you owe me some extra months on my life span, we can work a deal though, seeing as how I chose to continue to entertain myself with you I am willing to sit down and talk about it-

I am not even quite sure how to approach this whole blog. I know this phrase is over used but “all I can say is wow” I am gonna continue to say wow until I calm down………..


BRB

Mrs. B

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

Smoke Your Shit

In the history of all that’s holy I have never witnessed someone geek for weed. I was astounded. I have never seen a grown ass man try to cover up weed-fits with petty arguments. I have dabbled with the green wonder in the past but never have I just HAD TO have it. Weed has caused many a man to become stagnant in my generation and I think that’s just fucked up. I was recently awarded the opportunity to hang out with a “weed head” trust me when I tell you the shit is revolting. Seeing as how I live above the influence I was a square amongst circles of smoke, just passing my time away with limited cable television and 7-11 snacks. While this façade of a man re-enacted Dyson infomercials I had time to think about exactly why I gave up the weed.

It was the spring of 1998 and I was a senior at Spingarn SHS. My best friend and I decided to smoke a few jays before heading into school. This was not quite the norm for us as we would usually hit one before leaving my house then one at the bus stop. Which makes two a day. This time we wanted to spice up the fuckery we saw on the daily with a little more than two jays. We hit like two more and headed in the building just in time to be late for my favorite class. One because the teacher was cool as shit and two because my high school stalkee was in that class……. He was such a dream. I must say that was one mission worth plotting on. Wooo-Hooo, anyway this class was so freaking easy to get through, all you had to do was show up, copy some shit down, answer some questions and turn it in. Simple enough right? Well I learned it’s not so simple under a magnified influence.

After being surveyed by our teacher as to why we were late, we settled into our seats. I was nervous as fuck because I knew she smelled the damn weed on us. Amidst me and my homies giggles and snickers I managed to take out my notebook to begin the assignment. I glance over at my homie and she is so enthralled in the lesson that it motivated me to get started. I complete the work turn it in and prepare to stare at my beau until it was time to head out the door. The bell rings and I am asked to stay after class. I’m like shiiiiitttttttt, I knew she could smell the damn weed. I approach the teachers desk, belly full of butterflies and she asks “what’s going on with you today?” I’m like “I’m chilling, how’s your day going so far?” “Cute” she smirks, then slides my assignment across the desk. I pick it up and begin to laugh hysterically. My more than high ass wrote the same sentence over and over again – go figure. She tells me she wants a conference with my father as soon as possible. That one statement changed my life forever. I straightened up real quick and began to hang myself even more by admitting my wrong and begging her not to tell. After a drawn out speech and a river of tears it finally sunk in that weed can make an ass out of you.

Ironically as I sat and watched my real time Dyson infomercial all I could think about was that day in high school……… I kept picturing her face and the writing on that damn page. I felt the same way I felt back then looking at this stagnant ass individual. My head filled with “womp-womps” and images of The Chappelle’s Show. I wanted out and I followed my own lead. My lesson to all - Smoke the weed don’t let it smoke you…………

Mrs B.

You're Lacking

Hello all, I am fresh from the bat cave and ready to com-fucking-plain. It’s the same fucking thing over and over, history damn sure repeats itself and through comparing notes with my cousin over the last few days I have realized that change comes to no man. I don’t mean man as in human I mean man as in yall mutha fuckers that walk around with your brains stretched between your legs, hanging between balls of Satan. I am not angry or mad as hell. I am disappointed in the last three fucking generations. Pissed off as the place where more than most of yall bastards were bred. How the fuck you gon be in your mid forties with seven fucking children and still be lame as fuck? How in the birth place of you are you going to go from baby one to baby seven and not change nothing but your draws? I swear the same shit different day was derived by an angry woman.

Bombay won the poll and we witnessed straight DC fuckery at it’s finest over this Valentines/I call time weekend. I have to quickly relay the bullshit so that to can be released into the universe further concreting the fact that me and relationships will more than likely lead to a nice cushy box or cell depending on my reflexes.

Situation One

Actually happened on Valentines Day. I was extremely comfortable and content with my most faithful suitor, Sir Bombay Sapphire, when I walk into the pits of hell, disguised as a birthday party for a child. To sum up the evening events, my friend and children’s aunt had a party for her son. Which of course turned into a grown up party. Not in the sense that you are thinking, this shit turned into some old Judge Judy Hatchett-Ephiram type shit. I mean her and her friends actually coaxed three men one of which is her husband into laying out their most recent troubles in front of everyone….. Umm yeah I was sure the night would end in violence. Of course I joined in on the grilling. This shit went from one broad whom we all just met voicing how her “man” is upset because she doesn’t swallow to someone removing locks from his “baby mommas” door to get in and catch her slipping. I swear this shit was you tube worthy… If only I carried release forms and a video camera on my person at all times………

Moving on, I left the “party” only to get a phone call from my friend saying her husband stole the fuck out of her on the balcony and she’s in the parking lot with no keys. Yes I hauled ass back to her house to find out her and her mother had to beat that niggas ass for hitting her and I was too late, or so I thought. I get there and the punk bitch has a nerve to come back into the house….. Use your imagination people…….

In the end I hate woman beaters; they are evil and need to be destroyed.

Situation Two

My cousin has two children by a man in his mid forties that has the mind of a pre-teen. How it happened, I don’t know. Why she stayed with him, I have no clue. Why this nigga didn’t show up to his daughter’s birthday party but came around empty handed after the festivities and promised her a toy then didn’t come around for two days…… DIPPERS!

Get the fuck from the Pentacle and raise your children! You fucked up on five you would think these two would inspire your weak ass. Nope your motivation is the time the dipper spot becomes available. WTF? You old as shit. Bitch you bout to reach retirement and all your eligible children qualify for a mere $84 a month. Where did you life go? Has anybody seen his manhood? I believe it leaked out when his umbilical cord was cut. If you happen to see his common sense and shit laying on the wayside please send it to P.O. Box my cousin makes bad choices 666.

Yeah she saw that he didn’t raise the first five when they met, I guess he got game. The jig is up bastard they are here now. Take a bath and embrace fatherhood.

I could go on and on but I won’t - I have had enough. Fini I am, is that French? Either way I say fuck it….. These bastards will not change. I posted a blog on myspace as to why. I must post it after this. I can say part of the blame is females.

Mrs. B

Akon is dumb as shit

The hypno-voiced Akon really needs some attention right now. And look at me giving it right to him. He claims he doesn’t know his age. Did he say that dumb shit when he was accused of semi molesting that young chick at that show? I hope he did. I would pay money to hear him sang that shit to a judge………. All that he is good for in my eyes is songwriting, who gives two shits about how old he is? I could do without his voice –hence- songwriting. His voice makes me want to stab people and burn things. Old dude has some subliminal shit going on. Or should I say young dude?

His Aaliyah moment:
"In Africa ... age is not important over there. They don't care. People only focus on it here (America) and in Europe."

His shouldn’t have said that out loud moment:
"All it's going to do is depress me," he told The Associated Press in a recent interview. "I don't want to know I'm getting older. Then I'll start to think about getting checkups and insurance. I don't want that." <---Bitch, you’re a top selling artist without health insurance? You dumb as shit.

His lets see if this sounds as good outside of a courtroom as it does inside moment:
Akon says when people ask, he just gives him a figure that comes to mind. "I feel like I'm 21 right now," he says. "And I'll be 21 for the next 10 years"

I believe he is on the run, before stardom he lived his life as various male relatives.

His I done gon and confused myself moment:
Numerous reports have put his age between 25 to 35 years old. In 2006, he gave his age as 25. But now, he claims his birth certificate shows he was born on April 16, 1977, which would make him 31.

Even though Akon has a birth certificate, he says his age is still a mystery — and he'd rather keep it that way. ----- mmmm hhhhmmmmmm.

Mrs. B