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 pony...you 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.
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1 Comments:

Blogger Berry said...

oh.my.god!!! Gurl you are too much for me. Sour heads come with this humid azz weather. And washing behind your ears...ain't no joke -- 4 real! Funny, a Tweet song was running through my head right as I was pulling up your blog...we must somehow be on the same wavelength...freaky!

July 29, 2005 11:01 PM  

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