Sunday, February 17, 2013

The Man Diet

Not one day goes by when I'm not thinking about, texting, talking about, talking to, trying to get with, creeping around with, Facebook stalking, Instagram lurking some man/men, who are not worth the time, effort, or gratuitous WiFi charges...

Can you imagine all of the shit that I could accomplish if I freed my mind from the constant barrage of MEN?!

  1. I could actually work-out, thus achieving Kelly Rowland's Super Bowl legs, verily stunting on you heauxs.
  2. I could finish watching the last season of Jersey Shore (I feel invested in seeing those herpes ridden children off into infamy and eventual Celebrity Rehab).
  3. I could learn how to knit sweaters for my puppy, solidifying my future as the lonely dog lady.
  4. I could finally learn 'Ye's verse on Niggas In Paris in entirety...bourgie girl, grab her hand, fuck that bitch she don't wanna dance...
  5. I could finally learn to Harlem Shake since the Caucasian Persuasion has deemed it the "new" phenomenon...(Word to G Dep...)



You know, the important shit...

Maybe I should go on a man diet? Shit, I should go on a real diet. Summer is coming, and I think I wanna wear shorts...men like shorts...



That Shit Cray!!!


The Thirtieth Year

Turning thirty was the most anti-climactic, premature ejaculatory experience of my life. It was one of those situations where the hype just ruined the shit out of it....kinda like anal sex. At its best, you expect to be propelled into otherworldly, Mariah Carey-esque screams of ecstasy. And at its worst, you expect to be stuck together like dogs in heat, while shit splatters all over the ceiling, and paramedics are called in to pry you apart. Butt (pun intended), it just comes and goes with very little impact, save a little constipation and a sore posterior...

That being said, turning thirty does cause one to be a little more introspective...prompting the kind of self-evaluation that starts with a bottle of wine, and Facebook stalking all of your friends at 3:00 am to ensure that you didn't turn out to be The Loser in the pack. 

I'm just in that awkward phase, where I probably should transition from listening to 2 Chainz to Michael Bolton, but "All I want for my birthday is a big booty ho!"



Someone send help!!!

Titty Two Necklaces