Fuck the First-- A Dedication to CKO Kickboxing Gym. And Sprint Too

Hey Ya'll!

*Monie plops down on couch, sighs, and blows her wig bangs out of her eyes*

heheheheheheheh :)

Many people look forward to the first of the month. For some it means welfare checks; for others, it’s the start of something fresh. *Monie pours a double shot of Vodka, gulps it down--- and throws body on the floor; squirming in anguish from the burn in her chest*

Anywho, as I was saying; first of the month is always no bueno.

Monie always dreads the first, and here's why:

Several wretched things happen on the first of the month, particularly surrounding my bank account.

It is my theory that Bank of America and CKO Kickboxing gym have a meeting on the last day of the previous month to see which ways they’re going to bend me over, fuck me, and take once cent over the amount needed to throw me into a negative balance and then charge me for “extended overdraft fees”. It is my belief that they take the small sum of money that probably totals no more than $31, split it amongst themselves and buy pepperoni pizza and Sprite.


I could be wrong though. *shrug*

(Damn, that pizza look good as shit--- I can lightweight understand why they're doing this now!)

:/
I digress.

The first of the month is a time for broke-ness.

And as a result of broke-ness; a time for aggravation ; a time for fantasies about running up in Sprint stores, CKO Kickboxing, and Bank of America locations rocking a multi colored weave; gold tooth, mad bangles on my arm, and a ring on each finger--- and behaving like the most gutta Jamaican-Fulton-Street-in-Brooklyn type of hood rat; spouting off all types of "bumboclaats" and “pussyclaaats” and whipping hydrochloric acid out of my purse and threatening to splash it on everyone and turn them into "monkeys".


But, these fantasies never come to life because:

A) I don’t drive, and have no desire to get on public transportation just to tell people about their mothers. It's fucking cold outside, and I’m anemic.

B) Hoodboogaism does not live in me. I came up upper-middle class, and I’m not in the habit of fronting.

C) I have no access to hydrochloric acid :(

D) I’m insanely clumsy, and would probably end up splashing my damn self with the acid.

It’s just not a good look.

So anyway...

In standard first of month fashion, I fire up my PC and begrudgingly log into Bank of America with my forehead mad wrinkled up like old man ass cheeks, and wait to see a negative balance as a result of some fuckery that should not be charged.

And there it is:

Sticking out in red:
Pending ACH HOLD CLUB KO COPIA GUE CLUB FEES ON 02/01 Debit Pending -$64.09

$136.60
*This is where Monie gets to carrying on like a Baptist (or Pentecostal) church woman at a funeral* (For those of you who don’t know; that means lots of LOUD wailing, pacing, shouting, arms flailing and carrying on)

Even though I am home alone right now, I still don’t carry on this way.

I like to believe I’m type dignified and shit.

*Mo lifts wig, and scratches scalp good and hard, then straightens wig back up*

*giggle*

The one good thing about today is I'm not in the negative (thanks FINAID, pending and all, just knowing you will be in there available to me soon-- you complete thee) ; however, I know I'm supposed to have about 200 dollars in there. And I need that 200 dollars.

Because I also have to pay those pussyholes up at Sprint about 100 after taxes on the 1st.

So instead of bringing embarrassment and shame upon my mama for ending up on the news because I carried on with the aforementioned hood-booga antics, I log onto Better Business Bureau's website and file a complaint.



Woe is mo :,(


on another note... moving on Friday :))) WOoohoooo!!

oh. got me a lil boyfriend too. i told myself i wasn't gonna talk about him. at least not until he shows his ass :)

LaterGators! :)

Don't Buss Yo Pussy Open for Niggas That Run In the Same Circle-- A Club Story

Hey Muffins!

Hope all is well with everyone out there in Blogland. As things are winding down to my departure date from NY, I've been going out in hopes of having fun.

*rolls eyes*

Can somebody please tell me where the eff is all the fun to be had in this city that is NY?? Very rarely have I gone out and had fun (unless I was shitfaced drunk).

K dragged me out to Quo (formerly Prime, formerly whatever else, cause these mafuckas switch up names so much I can't even keep count) again this week in hopes to find her ex-jump off to make him jealous. We saw him there last week and he dissed her.

*Monie sighs, lights up a cigarette, and puts her feet up on the Ottoman*

Let me just say this. Ladies, if your pop off plays you; just take it in stride and keep it moving. Don't get it in your mind that you are his woman and try making him jealous. He gives not a fuck, and neither should you.

We'll press on this topic later though.

*raised eyebrows*

I digress...

Sooo, for one, last night was damned brisk. And it was raining. I didn't anticipate standing on line since we went with the promoters, but apparently, promoters truly ain't shit anymore because even they can't get anyone in the club. We got there 10-ish (which as most of you know is mad early for NY nightlife) so we were able to beat the $30 club charge. Since when did women have to pay over $20 anywhere??

That recession is still rockin out hard, huh?

So. Me and K are there along with some other Chucky Cheese hos

the promoters brought along with them. Like, no lie. They were 20 and 21. The 20 year old had to pay the bouncer to let her in. Now, ain't nothing wrong with young hos; cause afterall, once upon a time I was a young ho.

However...these dudes are like 25 and up. Why the hell they rocking out with babies, I don't know. And they weren't even cute babies. :(

One of them seriously needed to be swaddled in a fleece blanket and taken back to her crib.

The child had on a pleather jacket that criscrossed so her entire chest was out, some tight black sweater dress and kitten heels. Her hair was a hot atrocity both before the rain and after. This bitch had no umbrella, no hood, not even a plastic shower cap. We stood on that line for about half hour. By the time we got in she was soaked. K felt so bad for her she bought her a shot of Patron to warm her up. Lawd, I pray she don't catch pneumonia.

Now, I call myself not drinking anymore, but I needed to warm up too, so I had 2 shots of Patron. Which did absolutely nothing. Not even a buzz. :(

Anywho, the Romper Room hos go off and do their thing, and we go meet up with the promoters after we leave the bar. These wack ass niggas are all sitting around in the VIP section, on their Blackberries, doing and saying absolutely nothing.

So I whipped out my Blackberry and headed over to that nice, warm place that always makes me feel so...fuzzy inside. Yup:

*rolls eyes*

Mannnnn....when you have to be on Facebook in the clubhouse you know it's bad!

So, I'm on there; K's dancing around on the prowl for ex jumpsy, but spots this other dude she thought was cute.

Now, I will admit I thought he was cute... til she pointed out he had gold toofisis.

*pause for the mafuckin' cause*

Why is a grown ass man (30 years old!) rocking gold toofisis?? Can somebody explain this to me. I've always thought the shits were plain nasty, but come on! After that, I was and still am against him. :(

So when he goes off she gives me the run down on him. He's 30; friends with the promoters (they --along with the ex-jumpsy mind you--all grew up in the same neighborhood, but he recently moved); he's a C.O.


And then she's like how she's "going to have him wrapped around her finger"; how "she's gonna lock him down cause he has benefits"

*Monie pauses, lights another cigarette, and accidentally sets the end of her lacefront wig on fire.She stops. Drops. And rolls.*



I can't... bitch done made me mess up my good wig out'chea!!

I love my girl. Truly. We go all the way back to My Little Pony and Skip It days, but she is damn oblivious when it comes to men.



For one; please don't think you're doing a good thing trying to lock some man down because he has benefits. The only way this benefits you is if he puts a ring on it. Only then are you entitled to half of anything. If you do get pregnant, trust and believe there still ain't much "benefits" when you try to stick child support on that ass. The court ain't all that nice. They too realize you ain't the wife.

You
WON'T
get
half.

(I'm putting that on a tshirt)

So anyway.

Nothing exciting really happened in the club. Around 2 am the Promotion Team finally bought a mafuckin bottle of Goose, and while I don't really care for Goosey anymore, I figured that a lil bit would help me loosen up and not give a fuck that the DJ couldn't play worth a damn. I had a glass straight, and while I felt that woozy-pussy-popping feeling I used to live for when I drank...nothing. I finally just sat my ass down and got on Facebook til the night was over. At 4:30 am. So that means we spent approximately 6 hours in the club. *smdh*

Of course while we're in the car K is going on and on about the new nigga. Let's just name him. We'll call him Goldie Redbone , or "Goldie Red" for short since that describes him to a Tee.

I can already sense this may get messy:

See, K used to mess with J; the boy she was crazy about last January (Go'n and click that there); and J's roomate H (one of the promoters) hangs out with Goldie Red. Now, H used to be over there all the time when K and J were slaying it out, and probably knows K buss her pussy open for J on the first night she met him after the club. Now H., Goldie Redbone, and the rest of the promoters drove in the same car. Anddd as I mentioned before; they all know Ex Popoff.

I wouldn't be surprised if H told Goldie Red about K and J because on the ride home Goldie Red calls up and K and says he wants to see her later on that night. Hmph.

Monday afternoon this crazy girl BBMs me talking about he came by her job, and how he's really sexy (I still beg to differ, but if she like it, i LOVE it) and he has these piercing eyes, and it's going to be so hard to resist him.

*Blank damn stare*

I laid it on her straight and told her she better not hit that til March because niggas talk more than bitches *shrug* and somebody probably told him in that car that you ain't hard to smash out. So she's like, "True. I know. I'm going to wait. I don't know if I can though"
I told her try a new thing, and get new results.

So we shall see.


Don't get me wrong; I ain't judging her. None of this is anything I haven't said to her face. And besides, who am I to even judge; looking at my own track record with niggas. Ha! The good thing is, I've done most of my (not much) dirt abroad so I don't have to worry about this ex running into that one :)


And that's all for right now. I'm about to go wash my own hair with my broke ass, cause I'm flying out to DC this evening. Aowzah!!

PSA- Things You Need to Know If You Tryna Fuck With Me

I need for you to have your own money. You don't have to have a lot. Matter fact, you can even just have enough for you (cause I always got enough for me), but don't expect me to dip into my pockets consistently for you. Love don't pay the bills, and neither does dick.

Don't berate me for being a "princess". It has come to my attention that my parents set high standards (aka "spoiled") me, and I expect certain shit. *blank damn stare*
If you ask me what I wanna do, and I tell you something pricey and you're on a Burger King budget that's your problem. You should not have asked what I wanted to do. Just suggest Applebees or some other cheap shit. I fucks with buffalo wings like everyone else *shrug*

You must take me places. I aint trying to sit around staring in your fuckin face. You stopped being cute a long time ago.

Paying attention will get you far with me. I'm a Leo and we require attention. Likewise, I will shower you with attention. But ignoring me will do nothing but put you on the receiving end of my attitude. And my attitude is funkier than unwashed prostitute pussy when need be.

Appreciate me. If I do something nice for your ass, thank me, and if able, reciprocate. I hate ungrateful men; ungrateful people in general. If you know me, you know that I will go above and beyond, but if you meet my efforts with an ungrateful attitude... I'mma tell you something fucked up and you not gonna like it.

If you claim you love me, show it. You can tell me you love me all day long, but it means nothing when you behave the total opposite.

Don't lie. Uh-uh...don't do that. That should have been first on this list, but that's the beauty of an unordered list ;)


And I'm done for now. There might be another installment. Unfortunately, I gotta pay per hour to use internet, so a bitch is limited.

Ciaoxoxo

Livin' the Dry Life

Bloggymuffins! How art thou?!

First, I'd like to thank all of you who have been following, both new and old, leaving comments and all of that. I read each and every one, but I'm barely able to respond these days. After I finish a day's work on the computer I can't even bear to look at Blogger or any other site. Ok, I lie. I lay in bed and facebook it up. It's pretty much the only contact I have w/my old friends back in MD and other parts of NY. Good news though. My Blackberry Tour comes today, so I'll be on here more. Yay!

But yeah, it means a lot to me to know that ya'll get a tickle and a tee-hee out of my wierd-ness. Also, I'm going to see if I can archive my entries as someone asked. Thx for all your comments girlie! :)

On the personal side:
DRIER THAN GUCCI MANE'S LIPS ON A COLD, ALASKAN DAY.

Brrrr!

I wish this mafucka would find a cocobutter cure, or something.


Yea.. not much going on over here. Now that K is trying to launch her business into a full service salon, we don't get into too much fuckery these days. Plus, now that I don't drink I find myself questioning the types of live fuckery before my eyes in the clubhouse.

Like-- I went on Sunday with my sister and her friend to this joint in Brooklyn:


*breathing in, i am breathing in...*

Now, I hadn't been to Caribbean City in like, over 5 years. All's I knew was that Bobby Konders & Jabba still played there on a Sunday. Bobby & Jabba usually do their thing so I reasoned with myself that although this was not Manhattan, and many of the mafuckas up in there were bound to be sub par... I'mma go head and go. Just for the sake of my sister; since she hasn't been out much since she had the baby.

We leave out after midnight and I arrive at Caribbean City around 2. The line is short, which is good, as it was colder than a prostitute's titty in the winter time.

The security search is borderline molestation, and something comparable to airport search. Yes. The make you put your purse in a basket; they go through it thoroughly and then hand it back for you to put everything back in order.

So...I'm getting ready to make my way inside when the coat check nigga demands I take off my cute little faux-leather jacket.
Nawwww, nigga, fuck you.

I ain't putting my batwings on display for nobody!

So yeah, I told him I didn't think so, made a motion of hands over my body and told him it was part of my outfit. He backed off and let me go inside...

and inside looked like...like.... Shanquantifon's basement bash.
Wtf. I had heard there were renovations in there, and it looked 10x shittier than it did before.

Disastrous, ya'll hear me??!! And the people in there knew nothing about clothes and matching them for the seasons.

• I saw hos in flip flops
• Hos in sling back sandals
• One bitch had on her Club Socks... you know, the chicks that are like "I have these corns and know I have no damn bid'ness wearing these pumps, so I'mma just take 'em off, hold 'em in my hand, and lounge in my barely there dress and some ankle socks"
• One bitch had on some lumberjack arm warmers and knee high houndstooth socks.

and the #1 sin for the night: big woman, like atleast a size 24 wearing a halter top and skirt, NO BRA, tittyballs just'a hanging down low like whoa. TWO DIFFERENT COLOR(blonde and black) AND DIFFERENT TEXTURE WEAVE... and dudes were putting it on her like she was hotness.

*breathing out, i am breathing out...*

I have sworn off clubs (again). I would love to have like, weekly game nights, but some of the folks I know here in NY-- I wonder if they really even know how to read. I damn near need the Rosetta Stone just to decipher their text messages/fb statuses.

Seriously. I went to school with some real Leap Frog Learn To Read type bitches.


For instance, I saw the following status update from a high school chum:

hey fb, i'm so board the hubby wen t to play basketball and the little one is gone for the hole week my aunt wanted to spend some time wit her but i miss her already smh...


No, no, bitch, I am shaking my head.

Yeah... I'm supposed to play Scrabble and Tabu, etc, with folks like that?? I don't think so. I have a better chance playing a game of Spades with my 2 year old nephew, my cat Dinka and my imaginary baby chicken, Byron. I think not.

What else, what else...

Oh yeah. Sex life is sketchy too.

D/m is actually pretty busy and I understand why now. Like I said, I have been trying my best to have actual conversations with him. He's working on getting a degree in Occupational Therapy, not a Masters in Finance like I thought. So he's got to study like crazy. He started explaining to me what he was actually studying for, but that damn logorrhea problem he has became so overwhelming I just asked to see one of his textbooks.

I was impressed. He basically has to learn a whole bunch of doctor-type stuff without having a background in science, so he's got to work double hard.

So between both of us working on bettering ourselves education-wise... there's not much time for relations the way we like to have relations. The last time I got the business from him, we went in for two rounds and I didn't get in until after 4 am. The next day I received all types of hate texts from him complaining about being tired at work. I figure we were even since I had to get up and perform Dr. Miracle type wonders on my hair to head into Manhattan.

*shrug*


So yeah, as you guys can see...life's good, cause I'm alive..but it is, as my Cali folks would say, "hella" boring.
And that's all... Lator Gators!

More Groupie Sex Tales- Jim Jones

Dammit, man! Backstagepazz.com -- ya'll are making my summer out this bitch!


Soooo, I made up a new game, ya'll. It's called "What the Fuck". Very similar to my usual red light-green light, but its 2009 so I figure, hey, why not do some new shit.

Today we're talking about the penis of Joseph Guillermo Jones or as we all know him, JIM JONES .

Scuse me as I let out my niggadom ; you know, that hood side that all of us have-- white folks, ya'll ain't exempt!

*Monie pops open a bag of bodega potato chips (UTZ! ) and sets it beside her Tropical Fantasy- Colt 45 cocktail (lmao), and turns up the volume on her bootleg Dipset's Greatest Hits CD. *

Jim Jones, this basket of Chlamydia... ugh. Let's get started shall we?

*In my best Cam'ron voice*

KILLA!!

Jim Jones came to my city on a tour with another rapper. I went to the show with my sister and a couple of our friends. I was a lil intoxicated and ended up losing everybody I was with. On some ol' humbug type shit, I just really asked one of the security guards if I could go backstage....my outfit was pretty hot (lol). I was backstage just walking around and stumbled upon Jimmy and Freaky Zeaky, Jimmy asks me "what I was doing" so me I play the dumb role and was like " I lost my sister", you know the damsel in distress, lol.
He asked me to come and chill with them, I'm like "you sure?" He like "yeah", so I'm in there and next thing you know he pulls out some money and I must admit he was holding that night so I'm like "can I have some?" He like "what you gonna give me?" I'm like "whatever baby" so he cash's me out and we are fucking on a table, he just bent me over the table and hit it from the back for like 5 mins, and then put me on my back with one leg on his shoulder(while his dude is watching).

Everybody all together now: WHAT THE FUCK?!

Money for sex, what we call that, ya'll?

*Dumb mafucka in the crowd shouts out "Ballin!"*

Naw nigga, try again.

That's prostitution.

Who says the world ain't fair?

It is.

Look at that: a dirty ass nigga for a dirty ass bitch. She got bent over a table while his friend (probably Freeky Zeeky handicapped ass) was watching?? Lmao, all I can see is one of them fold-up lunch tables from back in middle school and someone bent over getting pounded out.

Nastiness.

Jimmy Jones, you dead wrong for that shit. And Imma set Handicaps Welfare Association on your ass.


Smh.

Carry on Groupie:

It was alright though....you will not believe this guy put his finger in my ass!!!!!!!! I wasn't feeling that at all but hey its his dime. I must admit he's a sweaty muthafucka and he was talking shit too like " you like this bitch" I must admit I kinda liked it...the talking not the sex cause my butt was sore for a couple days!!!! I thought that he gave me like $600.00 but it was more like five something, tell you the truth though...I would have let him get it for free,lol. If he wasn't sweating so much I think it would have been better. Sweaty Ass!!

WHAT. THE. FUCK!?

I say, one mo' gain: WHAT! THE! FUCK?!!?

*Monie pours her Tropical Fantasy-Malt Liquor cocktail on the ground. The rental white carpet in her apartment bursts into flames. Quickly, she sprinkles the Utz chips on the fire in hopes to out it, but the flames rise up higher than Sam Jackson on crack in Jungle Fever... is this the end??*

Nah.

For real though, I have some questions.

1- Somebody please tell me: what was "alright" about this entire situation? You get pounded out over a table for five minutes while someone sticks a finger in your ass for roughly $5-bills? Houston, we have a mafuckin problem. Where is the self love out here?

*Monie sadly watches the self love float off into oblivion*

2- I need these bitches to have higher standards for sex. Imma share some of mine:

I definitely need more than 5 minutes. 35 minutes, one or 2 hours with breaks in between, yeah. 5 minutes, fuck outta here.
You give me 5 minutes, I promise I'll shank you, tell all your friends (and my friends too) and then the rest of your life from there on out is fucked up.

Because I can't get back the Tang once I pour it out the pitcher; you will NOT be playing w/ my shit.

If he's sticking his finger in your asshole and "you ain't feeling that at all" tell him to stop. If someone is doing something to your body that you do not like/ particularly care for, tell that nigga to halt. Or do something that has always worked for me: punch him in the chest. Hard. Yup, punch that mafucka. And tell him to step off as you put on your clothes and walk up out of there/ demand he drives you back home.

3- Jim Jones is out of shape. Badly. He's pouring down excessive amounts of sweat after 5 minutes of fucking? I guess sticking your finger in someone's ass really works up a sweat, huh?

*shrug*


Yeah, no thanks... I'll pass. And if he wasn't sweating so much she thinks it could have been better? BITCH, HOW????

I am too through.

There needs to be a Dipset intervention out here...

and that's all, folks.

Busy as a Bee

Hey Muffins! This week is kinda hectic...school is a beast. I shall have something for you midweek, I promise. To the newcomers, I thank you! Just browse through the oldies til I have something new for ya'll!

Besos

Fuck Off!! Random Hate Mail

*Monie lifts her hands to the sky, and mouths to God “Why?”*

*God shrugs and mouths back “Why not? I love you, now go make your misery someone else’s laughter*

*Mo nods*
And so...

Dear Dr. D___,

I know you see vagina all day, so it aint nothing new to you. However, I’m kinda private about mine. Was it really necessary for your student assistant to be in there while you were doing my Pap smear? I’ve never had an audience before, and to be quite frank, I didn’t like that shit. I do appreciate your thoroughness though. When you asked if any of my other doctors ever told me I had “bulging eyes”, demanded that I swallow , and went on to say that you were going to test my thyroid for Graves disease I didn’t know how to take it.** Something tells me you doing me wrong like this because I have HIP Medicaid. Second class citizen, I am not. Neither is my vagina.

I still feel some kind of way. Next time, lets handle the shit one-on-one. And if you could give me the birth control I requested, that'd be kinda nice too. Thanks Dr. D___, for making my week. :(

Dear BET,

Ya’ll need to do better. Like, really need to do better. This “Played by Fame” business, that “Welcome to Dreamland” shitastrophe-- pure fuckery. Why couldn’t ya’ll pick up The Game from CW? Or give Uncle Jeff a show; one that displays that Black folks have sense? I don't appreciate seeing this type of coonery on what is supposed to be "Black Entertainment Television". When you create shitty shows like this, it sets us back . My calculations say 25 years per shitty show. Let's add it up:

Played by Fame: 25
Hell Date: 25
Welcome to Dreamland: 25
Keyshia Cole: The Way It Is (as much as I hate to say it): 100 years [50 for Neffe, 50 for Frankie]
That's 175 years. Do you know what that means?

The touch, the feel of cotton is more than the fabric of our lives.
Think about it. Again. Do better.

( Thank God for Harlem Heights. It's the one program that doesn't scream "Sambo")
Ps- stop running Menace II Society, State Property II, ATL, and Diary of a Mad Black Woman. I done had it up to here.

Dear Forever 21,

You cuntywhores, you!! I hate your exchange policy. Your accessories and bags ain’t shit. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have your handbag fall off your arm in the streets…when it was the first time you’ve ever even rocked it? Then you tell me you can’t refund me because “it’s against store policy??” Go suck your mother!! When I bought the piece-of-shit bag I was under the impression that it would add a bit of joy to my life and oomph to my wardrobe, but I was wrong. I rebuke you, Forever 21.

Dear Dan @ Associates Visa,
I hope you wake up tomorrow with morning wood and piss in your own face. Why would you give me a shitty ass deal, offering to lower my interest rate, and “forget” to disclose that if I accepted I’d be incurring late fees and over the limit fees? Why, Dan? That’s fucked up. I’ll be calling back again tomorrow w/ my “lawyers” on the line. And a refund to my bank account is so in order. Go suck your grandmother through a straw, Dan.

Dear Jerimih,

Or whatever your damn name is. Your song sucks. I wouldn't even wipe my behind with these lyrics if they were set on toilet paper!
Allow me to quote your simple ass:

“It’s your birthday and I know you want to ride out Even if its only to my house”
…oh wait, even better:
“I might just sweep you off your feet And make you wanna tell somebody (body, how I do) somebody body how i do

Pause- I’d be ashamed to tell anyone. I'd have to take Miss Ciely's Paw-Not-Paw's advice:
"You be't not tell nobody but God!
Carry on...

Or maybe we can float on top my water bed

(Pause again- people still have waterbeds? Smh…mmnh, carry on, Jeremih)

you close your eyes as I pry between your legs
We work our way from kitchen stoves, and tables
Girl you know I'm more than able to please, yeah
Say you wanted flowers on the bed (on the bed)
But you got me and now it's on again

* Mo runs over to her imaginary window, pulls the blinds off, and throws them on the ground out of disgust *

Cease, Jermih, you simple simon ass mafucka, cease!!!!

Bitch ass nigga: PUH-LEASE! You deserve an open-handed slap to your mouth; one so great you’ll never sing another set of lyrics like this again. This song is a disgrace to R&B.

James Brown's curl activator is probably drying up in his grave because of you.

Retire, ho. Right now.

Gosh! I feel so much better.

Now I’m about to head on to my slumber. I can rest well now that I’ve gotten all this off my chest.

BESOSBABIES!!

Punanny Disrespect- A PSA

*Monie pulls her lacefront wig off (as not to set that bitch on fire), throws it on the ground, and watches it hit the floor.

She then pulls out two cuban cigars to smoke on either side of her mouth; lights, puff-puff-puff; exhale*

Niggas--- ya'll gon' fuck around and give me cancer, I swear.

*Monie shakes her head*

Someone done disrespected my homegirl's pussy.
And a marketing management grad degree seeking chick such as myself takes offense to the shit!

First, let's define this shitastrophe:

Punanny Disrespect (verb): treating the punanny with contempt or rudeness by:
1. not being able to get your dick hard
2. not being able to swing your dick properly (especially after you bragged on that worthless mafucka)
3. poor or inferior head game (especially if you're over the age of 22; cmon now!!) and
4. breakneck speed splash-off; especially if you haven't gotten off yet

(Quite sure there's a whole lot to add to the list; feel free to chime in via comments)

Now let's talk about this.

Men-- some of ya'll have NO idea what we go through to prepare for pussy relinquishment. It's a lot. It's a whole lot, dammit. We have to plan around our monthlies, shave armpits, PUBLIC hairs, legs, body scrubs , fairly expensive lotions, perfumes, pretty matching bra and panty sets,manis, pedis, the whole nine.

Now, let's break this down cost wise:

Birth Control Pills: $10 (let's pretend we all have insurance)
Condoms:$8
Schick Intuition razor: $9
Any good exfoliating salt scrub: $24 (and up)
Any good lotion: $8 (and up)
Manicure: $10
Pedicure: $40
Perfume: $40
Bra & Panty set from Vickies (not even an expensive place, mind you): $73

Now let's add this up:

Roughly $212 dollars

For the average, college grad female, this totals out to about 17 hours of her work schedule. So when we opt to give up the pussy, it's not just about bussin' a nut. A bitch is trying to atleast break even.

For advertising costs!
Overhead!! All that son!!!!

There is a reason why sex is referred to as "the business".

Stop, think about it!!!!!

So when punanny disrespect occurs, you are in essence, fucking up her investment, and most important, fucking with her bank!!

So if you know you're a limp dick nigga, who can't fuck get lost.

If you know, you have low-grade, substandard head game, just opt to lick ass instead. Even if we don't like it; at least all is not lost when we brag on the fact you damn near had your neck in our rectum.

If you know you a come-quick type nigga, smoke some weed, get that viagra, get some of that 'yak.. do something.

I am so glad this was not my experience. Because I am poor; and when you fuck up a poor person's investment.. you're likely to get killed.

I dare a nigga to Romper Room on my pussy.

I kill him dead, like Miss Sophia!! LOL

Have a good day, ya'll. And as always... use condoms.

*Sigh*

Monie

Random Shit- the Reality TV edition

It's the 12th of the month, and dammit, we know what that means.
PMS!
Let the bitchery commence!

Isn't there a really uncanny resemblance between Miss New York and Lady Elaine Fairchild from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood?


They have similar bitch-like attitudes as well.
Wonder if the makeup has anything to do with it? Hmm..

This ho (New York, not Lady Elaine;-) has yet another show coming out... I won't be watching.


Where is that damn red trolley when you need it to come whisk someone's ass away?
I'm sooo over her. I wish Mr. Rogers were alive. So he could tell the trolley to take New York and Lady Elaine to the M.A.C. store :(

Day 26 - Random shit I've been wanting to say about them for a while now. I'm thinking seriously of twittering Diddy and putting in my complaints.

Mike- I love big Mike, but he got one more damn time to squeeze his big ass into a bubble vest. One more time!

And has the nerve to be wearing it with a tie?! Looking like a Berenstain Bear.

Awwww!! Kindness, Caring and Sharing.
I felt lightweight bad after reading that, but then I realized:

I am in fact doing most of the above.

I'm kind enough to share my opinion. I just don't have that caring part down yet, but by God's grace, I'mma git there!

- Isn't it hilarious how they always have to put captions on when Mike and Willie are speaking.

Especially Mike... cause everytime he opens his mouth I just hear Pootie Tang.

Sadatay!

Willie-
I don't know how I didn't include Willie in my line of men I'd smash if I could. He is single-handedly saving that damn Making the Band shitastrophe. Women (and some of ya'll men...mhmmm) are tuning in Thursday nights to see Willie's fine ass. He could've had one leg and a kickstand, I'd still beat!

Que

What in the Legend of Bagger Vance? What is this mafucka wearing?? This is an all the time thing for Que. He looks like a gerbil.

Old gerbil looks like he's doing his thing. Diddy might wanna call him up and replace Que. No one will be the wiser.


Robert- rides my nerves, but after this last episode, I've grown to love him. He spit the damn truth last Thursday night. I would have shown my left titty on the highway to see him throw that chair at Que and knock his little ass over.

Oooh! Is that a bangle on his wrist? Where is Miss Wendy when you need her? How you doin?!


Brian- is a bit annoying too.

Like someone sticking their dick in your ear. Don't trip, I'll talk about that another day, lol, I just don't have the energy tonight.

Anyway, I've never seen someone manage to look dingy even when they've been airbrushed. How does he do it? I like Brian though. He sings his little ass off.

Did I forget any of them? I feel like I should have included Dawn's ass. She's like the sixth member now. I mean, it could work.

Dawn has the balls to be down.

And the strap on.

Because we all know she bussin' Que's back wide open. Let me stop that. I like Dawn :)

Heheheheh... I need to behave myself. I'm going to bed. Easter service tommorow.
xoxomonie*

Massengill and Thongs-- Que, What is going on?!

Quick Que! Grab it!!

Ohh douche douche in the mafuggin bush.. smh

Que's vagina has been wide open and inflamed on display all season, and with each episode it's getting worse.


I'm trying to figure out what his damn problem is.

Here's what I've come up with so far:

01. Que is wearing Dawn's thongs. Them mafuckas are riding up in his ass and he can't handle it. It takes a real man to wear panties.

02. Dawn needs a smaller strap on. C'mon it's clear she's the one throwing the backshots. Que's asshole is busted wide open; he's in pain-- and he can't handle it. It takes a real man to get duked in the bum bum.

Awww!! Noah and Wade! I miss my show :,(

But moving on...

03. Diddy pass the Diflucan! Que has a raging yeast infection. It's itching and burning and what? He just can't handle it.

04. Que's on drugs.. which one (s) I'm not sure. Clearly, he can't handle them.

05. Certainly not anything prescribed though, because that may be something he needs to look into.


This shit is just all out of hand. I started to twitter Diddy to tell him to kick his ass out the group, but I couldn't be bothered. Ugh.




I'm turning in early tonight. I'm in a stanky mood. Menstrual. You know how that goes. I'm going to bed... before I start acting like Que.



Except my family ain't as nice as the rest of Day 26.

I would punched in the head. Literally.

xoxo-monie :)

PSA- Stop Getting Married and Having Kids Just Because

Hey muffins out there in Blog land! I know I've been scarce; but my school work has been CRAZY. University of Maryland's online classes are NO joke. Bella, Bee-- love your blogs. Thanks for reading even when I'm playing hookey from my own blog :)

Bella, thank you for your award! I enjoy your blog so much. I live through just about all of you; and it's fantastical!


Soooo.....


Sometimes Facebook is a happy place. Other times-- the shit is a travesty. And I'm not talking about the new layouts (even though it's part of the reason I end up seeing these shitastrophes). I'm talking about the ugly mafuckas from high school...who have become even more uglier with time... that are getting married and having children.


*Slams hand on imaginary pulpit, and does a Baptist-preacher-esque spin*


While browsing through pics, I saw the ugliest little baby. Folks, you gotta be careful who you have sex with. A California Raisin just may tumble out of your vag in the next 9 months.

Baby looked just like that. I tell you no lies. And as I'm clicking through the pics I also see that someone I know is getting married to this girl who looks like a Yo Gabba Gabba. The green one.

Men-- long hair ain't everything. I swear some of ya'll will date the ugliest chick and think she's the flyest cause she has long hair.


Long hair,don't care I guess.

*shrugs*


So after seeing that shit, I had to write the following PSA:

Stop Getting Married and Having Kids Just Because

*Jay-z’s “Public Service Announcement playing on instrumental. Monie puffs on her imaginary Bidi and creates smoke rings*

So some of us are approaching our mid-late twenties. We all get that itch to want to get paired off, and partnered up for life.

[Yes, even me believe or not]

However, some folks are going about this in the wrong damn way.
Some of the hos (unisex) you are marrying look like a tsunamic shit storm. And then ya’ll add more shit to the storm in the form of these little mucktar looking mafuckas you call children.

I beg you: stop getting married because you feel like that’s what you’re supposed to do.

Stop making California Raisin looking babies for the sake of income tax checks.

Do Better.


Simone Dior...and I approve this message.


Ugh. Be easy, kiddies. Have a safe weekend. :)

xoxomonieoxox_

“You Dumb Fuck”—A Post Groupie Love Interjection

Mediatakeout.com left me shocked, appalled, and teeheehee’d out today!!

Who would have thought that the taxi driver in Coming to America would have been sooooo ahead of his time when he uttered:

YOU DUMB FUCK!

RED LIGHT


“Soo...i get to his room.. o keep in mind. i caught a cab and he said he was going to pay for it.. which he should .. it was about 40 dollars... this nigga wouldn’t even come out to bring the money, he was like come in and get it... i was like fuck it so i go up to get the money, he's all talkin about some "you dont need to pay him... he dont know where you at" im like noo thats wrong , so he goes thru his jeans and pulls out 35 crumbled up dollars ( wtf?!?!? R U BROKE ALREADY?!?!) STRIKE 1!!!”


*sigh* In the beginning of her email to MTO she states that Bobby V “wasn’t her type”, so I don’t know why she went to his hotel room in the first place. And if she’s a gold digger its time for her to toss her shovel ‘cause she’s going about her digging all wrong. Dumb Fuck should have been out the door at the first tell-tale sign of brokenness: crumpled up dollar bills.

#694: You can tell a lot about a man by how their money looks when they take it out their wallet/pocket.

..but moving along…

Green Light

“Sooo ne ways .first off he comes to the door in his size xxs boxers with some gay print on them....he's ashy from head to toe...we lay in his bed and he is all trying do stuff im like no ..i dont know you .. all types of shit to get him to not touch me..”


RED LIGHT!!

This was by far my favorite part. The visual person that I am, I pictured him just suffering from chronic C.D.R. ashiness (chalky, dry, and reptilian) standing in some boxers, meanwhile his hair was jherri curl wet, like it always is. Priorities all wrong. ALL WRONG!! Smfh…

Green Light

“Soo he's all up in my face with his morning breath n shit....yuck!!! .... so touch comes to rub i ended up wanting to test it out ...we gets it in ..this nigga is about 2.5'' long and 1 inch thick.. like a 9 year old asian boy...seriously...it felt like a tampon going in and out.. actually a tampon would have been more pleasing...

He isnt necessarily a minute man, but the ish was weak ..he didnt know what he was doing and in no way had a good stroke... he tried to switch it up but he just didnt do it right ...yuck!!! strike 2,3,4,5,6,7,-100!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!..”

RED LIGHT ON A LEFT HAND TURN TYPE RED LIGHT!!

Dumb Fuck touched it; hell, Dumb Fuck even rubbed it… after doing a Stevie Wonder analysis, she knew it was small…why would you let him “beat beat beat beat beat?” Where’s the self love? Why would you tolerate funky breath, CDR, brokenness, AND WACK AND DRY PENIS?!!

If she killed herself, I would so understand.

That’s why my #1 life rule is as follows:

DO NOT POUR “THE ‘TANG” OUT FOR JUST ANYONE, ESPECIALLY THE WACK AND DRY. You can’t pour it back in the pitcher once you’ve poured it down the drain.

Dick Delusions of Grandeur: Magnums-- Regular Ass Condoms In a Black Box

Brands... they mindf/ck you.
But that's the purpose of brands. I won't elaborate on this


(I've been writing a paper on brands all day, I'm not trying to go there again tonight, ok? Just trust me.)



Trojan Magnums



Larger than standard latex condoms for extra comfort
Tapered at the base for a secure fit


But how much larger are they?

Apparently, not much...


So, yeah fellas, some of ya'll been mindf/cked.

It has come to my attention that some of you little pee pee dudes are out here using Magnums.


*No, not the XLs (relax Branny).


Buying 'em by the box-full thinking you're wielding dick, when in fact, you're barely scratching the surface with penis.


(Yes, there's a difference. Feel free to email me. I have no problem explaining)


I've gotten more than my share of hearing from many a dude "I know my shit ain't small cause I use Magnums". And I'm tired. Next nigga that says that to me, I'm handing him a ruler.


Bitch, you know so damn much..what do you think should be done?



I propose a nationwide penis self measurement. Us girls have to check our breasts, you should have to do something too. Do something useful. Measure your dick and stop wasting Magnums. Leave them on the shelf for the men who do need the "special reservoir end for added safety" and "extra room". Do the world a favor. Buy some Lifestyles or something.





That's all. Be safe ya'll. Wrap it up.. in condoms that fit

Wack and Dry- A Poem

Wack & Dry

(I'm word up gonna publish this soon)

I can't tell no lies

Yo dick game was Wack and Dry

And its so sad too

You thought you was doing the most

Puffin out yo chest, tryna boast

Your dick game-- lame

I don't think I ever came

You got that fisher price dick

Playing around with the p--y

You make me sick!

Matter fact-- I'm mad at myself

I shoulda told you before

Now when I hear you braggin on ya dick

It annoys me to the core

Shut the fuck up, stop it

Boo, nigga, bye

Got me questioning my own self, like damn bitch, why??

Sweating out my good perm for no damn reason

The courts should charge you, that shit is like treason

You irk me so

I just had to exhale

Feel free to ask if I'm talking about you

Via email

Send all inquiries to champagnecouturerockstarsexy@gmail.com with "Was I Wack and Dry?" in the subject line. I will try to answer as promptly as I can. I feel soo much better now. *Cheesy face*

Statutory Rape-- I'mma get real personal

my little cousin (the one who runs away and wears the same dirty panties)..go'n and click that there... she's up to her old tricks.

She ran away like 2 weeks ago, and then again last friday. and i understand why no amount of ass whooping, screaming, shouting etc thrown at her by her mom and the rest of the family isn't working.

Because the dude she's running off with is older than her. How much older, I'm not sure, but he's definitely over 18. When she was over here she was bragging that he had money, and when I asked her how he got money she told me he worked in a bank with his mother.

I asked her how old he was and she said he's 17.

I told her to try again. We all know can't no 17 work in a bank!

She's only 15. She swears she's in love, but she's being taken advantage of. I know the story all too well. That was me when i was in 12th grade. and the dude who i was with was 25.

i want to share the following story because i know there are a few teens that follow this blog, and i would hate for them to get mixed up in the same type of shit.

Grab your cocoa mug-- it's storytime.

Statutory Rape Will Fuck Up Your Mental For A Long Time

The person who was taking advantage of me was my best friend's older brother. Let's call her L, and let's call him R. Kelly Light. He was 8 years my senior.

I had the notion that a lot of young girls have : oh, he's older, he's not gonna play me; he can see that I'm mature, bla bla bla.

But he did.

I didn't really pay him much mind until he started paying attention to me. Sure, I thought he was cute, but my friend had 3 other brothers of which I thought were cute too, so that was no big thing. But he was persistant in his flirting, and he'd always say things to me like If you were older, I would date you.

I used to think it was cute, but now that I'm older, I realize it was inapropriate and trife. L and I hung tight from the time I was 14, so his nasty ass was probably looking at me from then. Euw.
(I may have to throw up after I finish typing this. I'm thoroughly disgusted right now)

So... he'd always flirt with me, and I'd flirt back too. I remember one day we were playfighting and he kissed me all up in my mouth, and my life went downhill from there. (For a time, of course.. glory be to God, I got back up on the mountain).

Probably a few months later (I know it was in May) we ended of having sex (euwwwwww) when I went to borrow L's wordprocessor (damn, you know that's back in the day-- do they even make those anymore?) It lasted all of like 3 minutes because anyone could have come home at any minute. For the longest, no one knew what was going on,not even L.

A short time after that he got a new car (I forget what happened to his old one, but I remember one time he had to glue his bumper back on with crazy glue) and he would "pretend to take me home" if I was over there, and have sex with me in his car, almost anywhere. This parking lot, that one, side of the highway, this dark street around the hood, wherever. This dude never took me anywhere and very rarely did we go to motels. To make matters worse, we were sexing unprotected. At first I would keep saying that we needed to be using them, but eventually I just went along with him, got on the pill, and continued. I should have known then that he didn't really think much of me. I'm just glad I stepped away from that whole madness disease-free.

And of course he'd tell me little stuff to get inside my head; about how much he'd miss me when I went off to college (I chose to go to Howard U), and that he cared about me... you know, bullshit. And you couldn't tell me I wasn't in love! As fucked up as it was, I really felt like he was my friend. I would talk to him about everything and anything. (I've always been a sucker for people who allow me to express myself around them)

Before I went off to school, L figured something was up, and she told me she didn't want me messing with him. I shrugged that off as her not wanting her best friend involved with her brother, but I thought that eventually she'd stop caring. Not so.

Anywho.. of course to my little 17 year old surprise, I was shocked when I went off to college in August, and never heard from him. Not a phone call, not a letter written back to me, nothing. I was way past hurt, and I felt very abandoned. When you're going through a transition phase in life, these are two emotions you do not want to feel.To this day if I feel one of the two , life is not quite right. In fact, I feel rather fucked up.


And this is when the panic attacks started. And if you know about them joints.. they suck ASS with six straws. I had no idea what was happening to me, and I thought I was just plain going crazy. I was so stressed I'd stay up all night doing strange things like sketching clothes because it relaxed me. Which was crazy because I didn't even know how to draw... but I learned, dammit!

I ended up going home one weekend because my cousin died, and I saw him. He was acting like everything was ok. Getting inside my head, manipulating me as usual. And then I found out he was up to no damn good. He was messing with this chick that lived around the corner for me (oddly enought, she was legal ), him and his ex girl had a kid that he didn't even tell anyone about, not even his family. Everyone just found out at the same time. So you know I was distraught.

I went back to school, and I couldn't concentrate on anything. I was always sad, and still having the occasional panic attacks, just thinking I was going crazy. So I withdrew from school and transferred to a school back home in NY. How I got into any school, especially one as good as Adelphi, was beyond me because my grades were SHIT. 1 B, 2 Cs and a D. I guess money can get you anywhere, huh? :)

And I didn't move back because I wanted to be with him. I just wanted to be somewhere familiar like my home, because even though my parents relationship was way past fucked up, I knew they loved me. And I just wanted to feel loved. Cause, it bees that way sometimes, y'know? But lo and behold a few months after I settled into school, who's paging me (LOL, I had a pager, ya'll! I'm officially old). Trifflin ass R.Kelly Lite. At first it was just a phone call here and there, and then before I knew it, we were back to our old antics. By this time I had my own car, and he'd crashed his again somehow, so he'd page me, I'd pick him up, and we'd still be doing what we did... in the car. Euw. By this time, his whole family knew what was up, and L was getting mad. The only person in my family who even knows that this happened to me is my sister, and I didn't even tell her. She found out, and I couldn't even bring myself to admit it to her for the longest because I was ashamed.

L eventually gave me an ultimatum and told me I had to choose between her and her brother.

I chose my friend. And I never looked back .


I say alllllladat to say this-- to my young girls-- these grown ass men do not have your best interest in heart. They don't give a fuck about you. They just want to use you up, and will not hesitate to toss you to the side for the next pretty young thing or better yet, a chick their age, comes along.

Your whole mentality towards men and more importantly, yourself will become misconstrued.

For a long time after this I used to equate sex with someone liking me. I still feel some sort of awkwardness when I'm around men. I don't really open up like I should and tell them how I feel. And I find that when I do, which is usually when its too late, it ends up all bad. For me, anyway. They just be movin' on with life and shit, lol :)

So to my young gals, that old ass dude you think is feeling you-- he really isn't. He's just a pervert, and no one his age probably wants him cause he's a loser. Walk in the other direction. Deal with someone your own age. I know they ain't shit.. but they're manageable shits. Don't get in way over your head.

I'm all soft and pink again. I may even cry tonight.. but like Ledisi sang-- It's alright!

xoxomonie!;)