Blog Abandonment & Monie versus Alcohol

I know... I've been superneglectful. The summer semester is coming to an end and I've got work to do. Gotta get these A's and thangs! Plus everybody I knows birthday was last week and this week. It's been a tailspin of Patron, Grey Goose, Hennessy, and Wray & Nephew Brandy.

*in my chrisette michele voice*

and then it comes to me...like an epiphany...

I present to you:

Monie Versus Alcohol- The Untold Story

(this is the argument I ALWAYS have with myself the morning after a night of dranks)

I know some of ya’ll be wondering. It aint no secret. Everyone is privy to the drunken status updates from 2 am and on most weekends. It’s nothing nice, but I wanna share my story.

Cause it’s cleansing and whatnot. :/

This morning after a night of Grey Goose and partying I re-evaluated my life—for the third time in 2 weeks. Much like I always do after I’ve had too much to drank. It usually goes something like this:

-Me laying in bed with face buried in the pillow, feeling the after effects of whatever liquor swirling around in my belly, threatening to attack me with chronic diarrhea

- lots of heavy breathing in hopes to calm my stomach and my nerves

Now here comes my thoughts:
-I’m not drinking anymore. This is it. I need to start partying with a mafuckin O'douls in my hand.

-I’m gonna stop. For real this time. It fucks with my anxiety.

-I’m gonna stop going to the club. Only when I’m on vacations I’ll go.I promise! Oh, and on special occasions.

And then after 2 Advil and a cold shower, I’ve forgotten everything me and myself talked about. And probably hours later, I promise you, my partner in crime K. is texting me telling me that there’s a bbq, club, event, whatever going on that night, and
"we’re going!" and my text reply is almost always “Aowwwww!” depending on the amount of school work I've finished.

Cause I’m a mess. And I love this party and bullshit lifestyle that I lead on weekends. Just being honest.


The adrenaline rush I get from putting on make-up, doing my hair, putting on dresses , high heels, and cutesy costume jewelry is borderline scary. Even now as I’m writing this thinking about it all, my mouth is watering and Beyonce’ yelling “All da singuh lay-dies!” is sounding off in my head. (It’s always either that or “Diva”)

I digress—

so …I always go out with intentions of having no drinks.

The battle between Me and Myself goes something like this:

-I ain’t drinking nothing tonight. Nothing!

By the time we get half way to Manhattan:

-Ok, no more than two drinks, that’s it. Cause you really can’t afford it.

-Stop lying to yourself. Financial Aid got you covered. Why you think they gave you all that money anyway? It's a conspiracy! They know school is stressful and you gonna need a lil something; vacations, liquor, therapy,etc. And it’s cheaper and more fun than a spa day. They won’t play Gucci Mane and Vybz Kartel at the spa, and don’t front. You love that shit

When my fiend ass gets inside the club, it’s a whole ‘nother story. First I scope out the scene, and usually the following thoughts occur:

-Yooo, what the fuck is going on up in here! Is she really wearing her church shoes w/ her club dress? These bitches shoe game is tired.

-What the fuck is he wearing? Dancing hard as a muthafucka.

-Ooh. He’s on the down-low. Definitely a bottom. Definitely.

-My gaydar is the shit!

-Where is that bitch’s girdle??

-I wish I could get away with kicking him and not starting no shit. He dancing mad hard and there’s like, no space.

-What. The. Fuck?

-I can’t... I can’t take this shit sober.

-Go on, have 2 shots of Patron. You deserve it, mama.

*please excuse language and grammar… my thoughts are laced w/a tinge of hoodbooga. Sorry.

Before I know it, 2 becomes a maximum of 5. And don’t let K. be on her bottle poppin’ shit, because 1 G&C (Grey Goose and Cranberry juice) may turn into 8 or so. And then after that, I get to facebookin’ and or texting in between shaking a tail feather, eyeballing the room, and sipping the drinks.

And then you get random shit like the following coming up on my page:

“uh oh”
“fugged”
“#191- big bitches, put on your girdle”
“hoaifhri[oahg iroagrjioaghrioea vgioaej grio WHY??” ( <- - that’s when you know I’m really knackered) …and things of that nature Do I have a problem? Nah, I don’t think so. Nor will I sit up here and justify why I don’t think I have a problem. It’s just that I associate certain things with each other. For example:
Alcohol::Clubhouse




Barbecue::Cigarettes










Drunkenness:: Mc Donald’s


Public Pool:: Urination


White liquids:: Semen

I COULD NOT BRING MYSELF TO PUT UP SUCH NASTINESS!

Jermaine Jackson:: Ampro Gel



Tiny:: Cooler from Pound Puppies





You get my drift?

Hell, that’s just me. Hate it or love it.
*Gives self an imaginary hug*
Do I plan to change? As soon as I see any wrinkles or facial lines (if Olay Regenerist or Botox doesn't help) :D

And besides....MY BIRTHDAY IS NEXT SATURDAY!!! Woohooo! 25 for the third time around!

To all my new followers, THANK YOU! Ya'll make my heart smile. I have to subscribe to you guys, read and play catch up and leave comments.

Be blessed kiddies!

xoxomOnie!