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

Shots, Preachers, Mistresses and Bacon

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

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

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

Taking Shots

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


Assume

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

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


The Preacher Man

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

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

or

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

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


I Blame it on the Warden

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


The Baby Momma Collection

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

I shall now be a BING girl.

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

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

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

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

Good Day Folks,
Mrs. B

No Greedies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mrs. B

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

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

A Letter To My Auntie

I wrote this a few months back, a friednd of mine just realized what I was talking about ------ I just wanted to share.......

Dear Auntie,

There is no nice way to say this to you, I mean I do respect my elders to a certain extent and I know that one wrong comment to you can make my life a living hell for days at a time. I have to give it to you straight though - because I am tired of tip toeing around "hoping" that you won’t get wind of how I really and truly feel about you. We have been engaged in a love hate relationship for over the last ten years and I have never once been able to voice my opinion to you. It’s like I hate your ass with a passion every time you come around but at the same time I yearn for you when you take too long to come back.

Oh and don’t you even say you have always been there for me, don’t you dare. You abandoned me for over nine whole months during the course of our relationship, not once but twice. The only reason why that was cool was because of what came out of the neglect. Real funny stopping by those first four months as if nothing was going on, Sure I played a part in your absence but that is no reason to try and ditch me like this in my time of need.
Auntie for real I need you right now, I need you like no other. I can’t make it without you, please find it somewhere in your soul to get me through this. How can I go forth with my plans without you by my side Auntie? You know that you are one of the main reasons why I can gather my thoughts to plan for my future. Okay I know you disagreed with me getting that Depo shot because it drove us apart, I apologize for that. From the bottom of my heart I really know that I messed up. You must understand that I had to protect myself in order to be able to get myself on track. I thought we made amends, I guess you tricked me huh? The joke is all on Sheli right now.

Enough is enough Auntie, I need you to get your ass here asap! Do you seriously believe that because I only see you once a month that I will not catch your ass? Hell to the naw auntie, the best thing for you to do is plant your ass in my womb and then get your flow on like no other. Now is not the time for jokes I have way too much stuff popping off for you to desert me like this. The best thing you can do for me is make a cameo, do it for me, do it for the children, do it for my piece of mind. I am borderline basket case right now and the pre Auntie Flow pangs that pierce my side will be welcomed with open arms this time, I swear to you auntie I have learned my lesson and I appreciate you and all that you do for me.
Sincerely,

Mrs. B

P.S. I will even spring for the fancy "equipment" just for you, so please please PLEASE let me see you in the next 7 days, you can pop up at anytime I swear I will not curse you for showing up unannounced.

*** Oh readers, please leave encouraging messages to sway auntie my way****

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

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.

Knock Knock.....Who's There?

People my people, my fellow twitizens, myspace fam and folks in general. Last night marked the end of my sex life. Let us have a moment of silence out of respect for my woman parts……………………………….

I don’t even know where to begin. Someone told me that gin makes you sin but the sick twisted bastard didn’t tell me that vodka makes you vulnerable! Yes I was vulnerable as fuck last night (Especially after realizing how out of the loop I have been) I went on over to this dudes house, let’s call him “dude” I’ll spare you the minor details and get to the good shit.

I know you all are busy web surfing on company time and all *chuckle*

So I doze off in his bed……………..In my dream I hear a faint tapping. I just knew Lance Gross was about to invade my slumber and put it on me. It was so real, just like the time I dreamt that my Shugg Avery was making me breakfast and when I woke up, like a pure ass, I went into the kitchen…………….. The taps grew into knocks which grew into bangs and I opened my eyes, I had to lay there for a minute to try and figure out what the hell just happened.

I turn over and “dude” is standing in his bedroom doorway with his finger to his mouth telling me to shush. I was so disoriented, I jumped a little because I swore I was being shushed by the ghost of Christmas present or some shit. I was like the spirits on his bar ain’t the only ones up in this joint, I have to be dreaming.

I wasn’t.

He goes on to tell me “someones knocking on my door” ummmm I am not the brightest bulb on the tree and all but “answer it” duh. He got the shake face going “um ummmm noo I ain’t answering it” I’m like awww lawd the way this chick is banging I am sure she goes for the girl instead of the guy. Sorry for her, I channeled my inner “Walker or Texas Ranger” (whichever one of Ricky Bobby’s twins that were jacked up off mountain dew and ready to hop on grandpa like a spider monkey) I had to square up just in case ‘ol girl had her wires crossed.

So there I lay..... I ask dude if he has a girl friend....... He said no of course.

In my mind I am like that’s some old dickmatized girlfriend shit right there. There is no way some random you fuckin gon bang on your door in the middle of the night without reason.

I’m like really, is that your girl? He’s like nah that’s not why she’s banging it’s more to it than that. Again, I have to spare the details, I mean you can basically just insert any old lame excuse and you should pretty much be on point.

So dude is like pacing around and jive shook for a minute. Peeking out of windows and doors and shit in his Own! Got! Damn! house! WTF? I’m like if I wasn’t here would you let her in? (just for kicks yall – just for kicks) he says no. Go figure. I turn over and attempt to get back to sleep. Then I hear double knocks! In my disorientation I’m like damn he’s fuckin an octopus!! Gross….. I turn over and his ass is checking his voice mail! This dang girl is leaving messages as she bangs!!! The shit was so loud I swore her ass was hovering outside his second floor bedroom window. Damn this broad got super powers. It was an awakemare!

Lawd Have Mercyyyy Kelly Clarkson Eddie Murphy (B.Scott) I’m bout to lose my cool in here.

*side note* if you have time go to www.necolebitchie.com and look for the Michelle Williams video, then go to www.lovebscott.com and watch one of his/her videos…. Is it me or are B and Michelle like the same person in separate bodies?


Not only am I sober and haven’t had nicotine in days, I can’t even get to fucking sleep. Yall don’t know how bad I wanted to go open that mutha fuckin door! I said to myself, self it’s not your place to do that. Mind your business and think happy thoughts to get you back in slumber mode. After a few more minutes of banging the noise subsided……I was still wide awake and his greedy ass was scarfing fucking cinnamon rolls.

I swear for Aunt Low I am completely and utterly done with this shit. Now I have to treat myself to a new pair of shoes to get over that crap…………………..Any recommendations’?

Mrs. B