Friday, July 29, 2005

Turn the Lights Off...

You and I in the room so dark
Hold me tight all nite lights off
Kiss me everywhere I can never dream boy
It’s like heaven, heaven

I love that damn fucked-up toof chick's singing. Technically, not superb by anyone's standards. But quirky. And lyrically...clever and jive nasty.

Like me.

She need to fix her toof though. For reals.

You gotta put the needle back on the record (Turn The Lights Off)
Then lets get closer then closer then most (Turn The Lights Off)
I think we can get to know each other better if we (Turn The Lights Off)
And lets grab a glass and lets make a toast (Turn The Lights Off)

Ali Baba is so damn fine. Smells good too. He parked behind me once, but I was slow getting out of the car. He was still waiting for the elevator when I opened the door from the garage. He smiled...that...that...that nasty little smile of his.

I've envisioned myself sitting atop his face too many times.

I'on want no relationship with him. I just want him to...taste me.

Otherwise, I have no interest in Ali Baba, or his 47 thieves.

I know. I ain't shit.

Here we are you and me just us two yeah, yeah
I’m feelin high so high when I’m round you yeah
Don’t hold back let it go show me how you feel yeahah
Ride all nite, all nite like a gotta put...

Walked in the dry cleaners, and it smelled like a fermented, pickled egg. As my nostrils tried to run up into my sinuses, my Vietnamese dry cleaner told me, "Me stummy hur so bhad. Can't moo my vowels. Fee days."

I don't know if I'm more mad that I understood her Egg-Foo-Yung English, or that this bitch just told me she hasn't been able to shit in 72 hours.

You gotta put the needle back on the record (Turn The Lights Off)
Then lets get closer then closer then most (Turn The Lights Off)
I think we can get to know each other better if we (Turn The Lights Off)
And lets grab a glass and lets make a toast (Turn The Lights Off)

I'm to the point now that I don't even like to hug people. You know why? People don't wash behind their damn ears. Or comb their hair with a fresh comb and brush. I know cuz I can smell it. Just don't hug me if you aren't fresh. That includes your hair too.

What's up with these chicks with these nasty ass dirty stankin' heads too? I encounter more chicks with dirty smellin' hair. What the fuck? Wash your damn hair. Damn. No style is that cute that you need to rock it for two weeks. Wash your stankin' ass hair. Damn.

The women of the world are damn lucky I wasn't born a man, cuz I wouldn't even let you stankin' ass head bats sleep on my pillows if I was a dude.

*morphing into dude mode for a moment, to make my point*

These are 600-thread count sheets, and they deserve a bit more respect than your straw-curl mites moving in for the weekend. Naw...don't lay on the pillow. Lean your nasty head over the edge! No, better yet. Take your stankin' ass head home.

...and turn off the lights on your way out!

I know. I'm ignorant as hell.

But so utterly sincere about it.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Mean Begats Mean Pt. II

I can't stand no half-ass people. If you gon' do something half-ass, spare yourself the trouble. Please don't do shit for me half-assed.

Damn, why that make me think about Evilene?

And don't nobody bring bad news!
No bad bad bad news...No bad news
Don't nobody bring me no bad news!
I'll make you an offer, chile, that you cannot refuse
So don't you ever bring me...NO bad news!

That's how I feel right about now. Sittin' up on my toilet throne like Evilene, venting. About to eat me a man or two for lunch.

*cracking my knuckles and licking my chops*

I'm a sick bitch. But exclusive. Meaning, you can only view my madness by invitation.

As you can see, you're on the VIP

Around...the eight-ty muhfuckin' days...
Da doo be doo
Da doo be do
Da doo be do be do be do be do be wa ah ah ah ah...

You ain't gotta know what none of this shit means. Your understanding isn't a requirement.

Yummy, yummy...Your Bones are Yummy!

I'm in the most BIZARRE mood today. It's as though I could fuck the living daylights out a man right now, and then eat him, build a little hut with his bones, crawl inside, roll up into the fetal position and go to sleep.

Now to somebody...that made some sense.

But that's how I feel right now.

Doesn't help that I'm listening to Marvin Gaye's Since I Had You:

This is the story of two lovers who shouldn't have been
They did their thing and went their separate ways again
Then by chance they met at the neighborhood dance
And got that old feeling all over again that said
How much I've missed it (since I had you)

Story of my life, right?

My --- eyes must look serious (your body soakin' wet)
Cause when I look at you I get delirious (ejaculatin' sweat)
Your --- voice sounds so serious
But since we're still friends (won't you give me some)
Let me make love to you again - baby (let's go home and cum)

Once you have somebody, you should be able to have them forever. In my world, at least... The mind is a vicious instrument. Because as your eyes trace over the sight of your lover-gone, the memories reel you in like the catch of the day.

Since I had you girl I haven't wanted no other lover
Since I had you honey there hasn't been no other woman
Since I had you baby there hasn't been no other woman
Since I taste you loving I haven't seen no other woman
Since I had you baby there hasn't been no other woman
You might not believe it but since I had you baby there hasn't been no other woman

The ultimate compliment. Not the lip service of someone saying this to you, but the fact that for someone out there, that this is their reality.

Since I had you girl I haven't wanted no other lover...

Everytime I listen to Marvin I fall into this emotional cesspool that's both decadent and purifying...

Through his madness, I find clarity.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Mean Begats Mean

I am mean.

Today, I had a moment of clarity and just realized...I'm mean as dog shit. Just mean for no damn reason. Mean cuz I can be mean, gotdamnit. Mean cuz you can’t do a damn thing about it mean! Mean cuz I got it from my momma...uh.

Yeah. I did get it from my momma.

You see, my mother was that MEAN mother on the block. Everybody was scared of her. And she ain't like NONE of them children. You know how MOST mothers try not to talk bad about other peepo's children? Uh...not Moms.

I do NOT want that little nappy-headed nigger on my property, [Nina]. If you don't tell him, I will.

Who's little porch monkey is that? Tell him to stop ringing my doorbell, gotdammit.

That little girl's been outside ALL day. Doesn't her mother let her come inside? It's not like she isn't ALREADY black as shit. Any darker and she'll be a mist.

And she’s supposed to be the cute child? Hell...I’ve seen cuter dogs.

Why is his face so ashy? What does he wash it with...dirt?

Just off the CHAIN, she was. And imagine this – she would enunciate every syllable. Nig-ger. Mo-ther-fuck-er. We called it "talking proper," and that's how she talked. Tongue as foul as two clubs in hell, but her diction was perfect. She punked the whole neighborhood. I never understood why everyone was scared of a 5'3" woman with breast cancer, who most days, was screening such King’s English obscenities out of her sick room window. But she had 'em punked.

Good thing she was a 70’s mom and not a 2000 mom though. Cuz somebody would have shot Mommy.

Maybe it would have gone down something like this:

Mommy: Get your little nigger ass out of my flowers!
Little Boy: I’m sorry, Miss G. I’m sorry!
Mommy: Damn right you’re sorry. I’m sorry just looking at you. Get out of my fucking yard.

*a few minutes later, Little Boy’s mother stomps up the hill*

His Mother: What did you call my son?
Mommy: Who’s asking?
His Mother: I’m his (pointing to her son) mother. And he told me you called him out his name.
Mommy: No, I called his little nigger ass out of my flowers, that’s what I called him…

*plakow! plakow! plakow!*

Mom? Uh...Mom?

Maybe I need to get my mind right. Either that, or don't ever plant any flowers in my front yard.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Just trying something out...

Bear with me.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

The Last 19 Tidbits it took me a minute to finish this hurr list. See, that's what I don't like about lists. It's supposed to be a hunnert items long, but what if I'on have a 100 things to say? Why should I feel PRESSHURR'D to write 100 things? This shit is s'posed to be relaxing to me -- why I gotta conform to the constraints and demands of this fuckin' list?

I know, I know...I'm procrastinating. Shutcho ass up. LOL

19. When it comes to 70's-80's R&B, I can't be musically stumped.
18. I have a severe case of road rage.
17. I cuss more people out in the morning with gospel music playing in the background than should be excusable this side of Glory.
16. God ain't struck me down yet.
15. Guess right now might be a good time NOT to test Him, eh?
14. When I'm into something, I'm into it...200%.
13. I was a holy roller about 3 years ago.
12. This guy once called me a "kinky girl that really knows the Scriptures."
11. I laughed, but inside my breath stood still because of the accuracy of the statement.
10. And he ain't even know me like that to be KNOWING ME like that!
09. I don't want to die.
08. I'm not sure that I would want to come back, as in being reincarnated, though.
07. The thought of living another challenging life...ain't that appealing to me.
06. I wish somebody would come back from the other side and holla at me about it.
05. I make a pitcher of sweet tea every day, and I drink it in a matter of hours.
04. I'm thirsty all the time. As a matter of fact, I'm thirsty now.
03. I don't like to talk on the phone anymore.
02. I don't feel compelled to prattle on and on, or to hear other people prattle on and on about their lives anymore.
01. I just don't give a fuck.
00. Really. I don't.

*throwing down the keyboard to make sure it's broke*