The Set Up: Nigerian Email Scam

Hey Ya'll!
(yup, i know. back to back posts!)

I just wanna vent about Spam blocker not doing its job.

Yesterday I received the following African fuckery in my inbox:

Subject: I HAVE REGISTERED YOUR CONSINGMENT WITH THE PARCEL EXPRESS COMPANY COURIER SERVICE / Call me: Tel: +234-802525-4563

*Monie lights herself two cigarettes and puts her Klonopin on the table. It might be one of those… times*

What in the Amistad?!?!?!!?!

Keep us free!!

My imagination ran wild, and this is what happened in my mind:

Monie: First, what the hell is a “conSINGment”? Second, the “Parcel Express Company Courier Service”—that joint needs an acronym. Too much is going on. And last, there’s no “+” sign on my phone, so I can’t even call to verify this shit.

Carry on ya'll…


Mr. Wilson:

Hello,

I have been waiting for you since to contact me for your Confirmable Bank cheque of (TWO MILLION UNITED STATE DOLLARS ) but I did not hear from you since for a couple of weeks now. Then I went to the bank to confirm if the draft has expired or getting near to the date of expire and Dr. Wilson the Director Bank of Africa told me that before the draft will get to your hand that it will expire.


(Just this once, I will ignore that hell of run on sentence)

*Lightbulb goes off in Monie’s head*

Monie: But it all makes mafuckin sense now!! This is where all the money Bank of America has been taking from me goes to!! To Africa!!

Look at 'im. It's a conspiracy. Imma tell ya'll what's really going on in this picture.

That smug mafucka is a Bank of America rep. He appears as if he's doing good by those babies, but I know the truth. He's a thief. Promising those kids my stolen two thousand united state dollars; filling them with promises of new cloths for their backs, toys, and food. These poor children. They have no idea he gives not a fuck. Kids, be warned! He will take it ALL; from the cloth on your back to the calluses on your feet!! Lawd jeezah!! You've been warned.

*Monie pops a Klonny-pin, pulls her wig off and sets it on her end table. Unbeknownst to Monie, Dinka with the help of Baby Bird Byron steal the wig and give it to the new woman in Dinka's life, Shantikafah.

She is thus pleased. *

I digress.

So yeah. A whole TWO MILLION UNITED STATE (no "s" ya'll) DOLLARS! This figure sounds like what they've taken from me over the years in overdraft fees. *shrug*

However, neither this Mr. Wilson (scroll down; that’s who this letter is from) or Dr. Wilson (hmm—wonder if they related?) has contacted me. I know I been tied up with school and moving and shit, but I would have remembered someone writing me about TWO MILLION UNITED STATE DOLLARS owed to me.

Carry on…


Mr. Wilson: So I told him to cash the (TWO MILLION UNITED STATE DOLLARS) to cash payment to avoid losing this funds under expiration as I will be out of the country for an 11 Months Course and I will not come back till Ending of SEPTEMBER. 2011.

Monie: Mr Wilson; you are ever so thoughtful. I sure hope you got all 20s and 50’s. And 1’s too. Those are my favorite.

The thing is, I don’t know if I own a bag that can even hold all that cash. And I’m a "walker" (a person who doesn’t drive or ride a bike) so I don’t know if I will be able to carry all that. Oh wait!! You did say that the PARCEL EXPRESS COMPANY COURIER SERVICE (or the PECCS as I would like to call it) is gonna deliver the shit. My fault. Look at me getting ahead of myself.

And if I may ask, where are you going for 11 months?? You planning on sticking it to me and then going to live it up on the beach somewhere no doubt.


Mr. Wilson: What you have to do now is to contact PARCEL EXPRESS COURIER SERVICES as soon as possible to know when they will deliver your Consignment to you because of the expiring date. For your information, I have paid for the delivering Charge, Insurance premium so contact;

Directors Name: MR. JOHN WILLIAMS
Company’s Name: PARCEL EXPRESS COURIER SERVICES
Email Address: (mrjohnw11000@vista.aero)
TELLPHONE: +234-802525 4563

Monie: Mr. Wilson—you hookin ya girl up! You paid for delivery and insurance. That’s whatsup.

*Blank Stare*

But I done told you, that I don’t have a “+” on my “tellphone”. How am I gonna get through to them to deliver this consignment? I guess I can always email him.

Mr. Wilson: The only money you will send to the PARCEL EXPRESS COURIER SERVICES to deliver your Consignment direct to your postal Address in your country is ($100USD) only being Security Keeping Fee of the Courier Company so far.

Again, don't be deceived by anybody to pay any other money except $100USD ONLY.

I would have paid that but they said no because they don't know when you will contact them and in case of demurrage. You have to contact the PARCEL EXPRESS COURIER SERVICES now for the delivery of your PARCEL with this information bellow;

1, Full Name:
2, Address of Residence:
3, country from:
4, Telephone Number:
5, Occupation...

Monie: I will try not to let anyone deceive me to pay anything other than the $100 USD. Do you have copies of the receipts showing you paid for insurance and delivery? Just in case they try to make me pay? Also, I’m confused, now. Is it “Parcel Express Company Courier Service or just Parcel Express Courier Service”? Anyway, thanks for letting me know you would have paid if you could. You’re very thoughtful, Mr. Wilson. Why didn’t you give them my info though? I mean, surely you have that. You’re privy to everything else…


Mr. Wilson: Finally, make sure that you reconfirm your Postal address and Direct telephone number to them again to avoid any mistake on the Delivery and ask them to give you the tracking number to enable you track your package over there, that will be after you paid the Security Keeping Fee and when it will get to your address. Let me repeat again, Try contact them as soon as you receive this mail and ask them how you will make the security fee of $100USD to them to avoid any further delay and remember to pay them their Security Keeping fee of $100USD for their immediate action.

Monie: I dunno about this Mr. Wilson… I smell a setup. You know I live in DC, like 4 blocks from the White House… and they have a way of finding out everything. Them some bad muthas if you didn’t know. I mean, President Obama seems really, really nice— it’s them other hos in the Cabinet that I don’t trust.


**takes hard puff of cigarette**

I just don’t wanna do nothing to mess up the (second ) start of my grown woman life. I fucked up the first one pretty badly, and now I have no couch, no bed, microwave, or electric tea kettle… and crack wasn't even involved!!

But that’s a whole nother story.

So yeah, no matter how much that TWO MILLION UNITED STATE DOLLARS sounds, I like the happy state of mind that I’m in (most of the time) now.

Mr. Wilson: Note this. The PARCEL EXPRESS COURIER SERVICES don't know the contents of the Box.
I registered it as a BOX of Africa cloths. They did not know the content was money? Only Dr. John knew this as confidential agreement between me and him because he advice me so, this is to avoid them delaying with the BOX. Don’t let them Know that the box content is money okay.

Monie: Mr. Wilson, you sneaky dog!! Both you and Dr. Wilson!! But why are you asking me “they did not know the content was money?” Did they, or is that just a typo. Mr. Wilson, I don’t want no trouble, you hear me?? NO TROUBLE!! I won’t let them or anyone know the box content is money. Just ordinary... African... CLOTHS.

It can be like , our little secret.

Mr. Wilson: You are to make the payment of $100 Dollars in the name of the PARCEL accountant officer (MR DABO STEVEN) for the security payment/keeping fee of your package with this payment details below:

Receiver Name: MR DABO STEVEN
Receiver Address: NO.32 GROVERS CRESCENT, ABUJA NIGERIA
Sender's Name: Your Name
Sender's Address:
Amount To be Sent: $100 usd
Text Question to be used: HOW ARE YOU
Text Answer: FINE
M.T.C.N. ( Ten Digit Number )

Monie: So is Mr. Dabo Steven in on the take as well? Or did he already get his portion of the money? Cause I’m gonna count this here currency and if it doesn’t add up to TWO MILLION UNITED STATE DOLLARS Imma have some questions for you and Mr. Steven.
Bad gyal don't fear. * snarl*

I will make note not to put a question mark after the text question “how are you”. I am not trying to cause further delay with this BOX.

Mr. Wilson: Make sure you send to me the payment information, which was given to you via Western Union or Money Gram.

Monie: I didn't get anything form Western Union or Money gram. Please resend. I'll more than likely use Western Union, since I’m a Western Union PRO.
*brushing dirt off shoulders*
No problem!

Mr. Wilson:You are advice to send the money today so as to avoid any delay from delivery your package to your door step. Package arrives to your doorstep in 48hrs.

Monie: Oh wow, only 48 hours…. coming from Nigeria??? You can pretty much send a BOX at light speed now I guess. That don’t sound right, Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Wilson: As soon as you make the payment of Security Keeping fee of $100USD ask them to give you your tracking number, for proper verification to avoid mistake.

This is the Couier Company website: pescnig.net

And you can call me Agent for more info +234-802525-4563

Yours Faithfully,
MR. SCOTT WILLIAMS

Monie: Um, Agent? Hold the fuck up.

I definitely need some more info. I looked at the website, and saw a mafuckin horse with a PARCEL on its back. Like some real Pony Express type shit was going on, on that website.

And if that’s the way you’re sending my TWO MILLION UNITED STATE DOLLARS, I'd rather we go about this in some other way. I’m quite sure it’s not gonna get here in 48 hours. Additionally, this can't be safe. No matter how much insurance you put on it.
I'm sure the horse is gonna get hungry on its way here from Nigeria. And I'm not sure whether they send the horse with food or not, but I'm not tryna fuck around with a hungry horse and have him eat my TWO MILLION UNITED STATE DOLLARS.

No, no, NO!! Especially after I paid my hard earned (ok, so it's Financial Aid) $100 dollars down!

Please email me in regards to the questions that I have. You can call me at 301______. Please do not put a “+” in front of my number, or you won’t be able to contact me.

Thanks.

Frightfully,

Monie

*sigh*

Dear God, it's me, Monie...
i can't.

Damn, it feels like forever...

Bloggymuffins!! How art thou? Happy New Year (all late and shit).

*Monie settles into her La-z-boy; slips her feet out of her slippers...then slips them back in after she's hit with the scent of corn chips*

hehe :)

I know; it's been forever. I wish I had an excuse this time, but I don't.

*Shrug*

Ever since I came back from Jamaica, I've just been getting things in order. Looks like I will be moving that first week in February to DC. I was going to move back into my old apartment building, but things fell through. Usually when I look for places in DC I never find any that are affordable, but I actually found a few places that were affordable and had utilities included. God is GOOD.


On the boy-front...

It's quite dry. #4 and I are officially through. For real this time. Yes, I know, said it before, but for real. I am too fixed in my ways, and he is too fixed in his. There's a lot of stuff I left out about him in the weeks I was there.

If I ever had to give those 3 and half weeks of my life a title, I'd have to call it "Crying, Fighting, and Chain Smoking"

Lawd!! That boy has a mean streak. I know I'm a little bit sensitive, especially when it comes to people telling me I'm doing something wrong (when I know I'm not), but he's got no tact at all. Even if I am, please don't insult me. If I do something strange or wrong in his eyes, he asks me why I'm doing it, and follows it up with "Are you an idiot?" or "That's stupid."

After these comments come massive arguments between us, and the insults get hurled back and forth.

When I tell him about himself for talking to me like this he tells me that I'm being sensitive and the only reason it's a big deal to me is because my parents spoil me and my mother probably still hugs me because I'm a baby and need to grow up.

*middle finger @ #4*

So what, nigga?? Yes, my mother still hugs me. My parents treat me well and talk to me like I'm a human being. My mother helps me out when I'm in need.

Since when did that become being spoiled? Ain't that what parents do?

I think a lot of his behavior is a result of his mother being dead and never knowing his father so he doesn't really have that sense of love. It seems that he resents me for having it. He was raised by his aunt, and she talks to him like he ain't shit. However, I don't care for his learned behavior in my life any longer.

So I had to cut myself loose. He was mad. Told me I'm demanding and I only want things to be my way. How God has not made the man that I'm looking for yet. Blah, blah, blah.

So I very calmly told him "I am not arguing with you anymore. If that's how you feel, then fine. I have no problem being cool with you. We can talk on the phone from time to time, but you will never have another reason to argue with me again, and will never have one to argue with you." He kinda calmed down after that, and then strangely enough we had one of the best conversations ever. He's really funny and ignites a lot of ideas for me to write about.


It's funny though, because now that we're not "together" he calls and tries to keep in touch more than he ever did. I don't call him, but I will text him to say "hey" when I'm bored.

*Monie crinkles her nose*

Where they do that at?

In other events... I missed my blog anniversary which was December 27.
What is a hobby for me actually turned out to be very therapeutic and has even earned me a chance to be published. Go'n and click that there.

Who'da thunk it?! Certainly not me. 2009 was a good year. I received many blessings. I hope 2010 is even better. :)

Well, that's it for now. Got some writing I need to do.

Kisses and Hugs to you all,

xoxom0nie!

Suck a Dick, Swallow a Kidney Stone-- more Groupie tales courtesy of Backstagepazz.com

Hi my Blog Babies! Again, sorry for being so hit and miss with you guys. Coursework-- the life of a grad student; you see how it goes. No time for anything besides homework and the random sexual encounter.
*shrug*
:)

So, today lets talk about the following fuckery:

Jasun Wiggins



Do ya'll know who he is?

*silence*

Yeah... I don't either.

Anywho... apparently, his achievements include wrapping his dick in the American flag and skeeting off kidney stones in the mouths of random hos.



What in the oral disrespect?? I can't..

Read on.

* Mo lights a bidi, and inhales*

Let's play red light-green light, stop n go. After all, we haven't played in a while, we're overdue.

Green

i was in my 20s when i was deep into the online chat---blackplanet (which is how we met), migente, etc thing. i am not here to dog him out but i do agree that if you have been with this guy then to go and get tested.

Red
Don't nothing good come off that Blackplanet now, does it? Shanananana.
After I read about how careless people are with their bodies I wanna get tested...every bumboclaat day. I'm just sayin... continue

GO

he seemed to be impressed that i wasn't some chickenhead from around the way that was completely naive.

Stop
Chile please!

*Monie's imaginary baby chicken, Byron, enters and starts clucking at his long lost relative*

Alright now, Byron, that's enough excitement. Shut it down.

*Byron quiets himself and goes off in search of some seeds*

Carry on..

Go

his people had cooked dinner and i was invited to get a plate. i noticed that jasun was checking me out as my back was turned to him and obviously liked what he saw. we talked some more and as his people stopped coming in as much we had a quicky. i went down on him and quickly learned that he lived up to his page name. if you really don't think that he's big then your stuff must be stretched out like a limo because he is THICK and has a nice size on him and there is no way i would let all that go in my a$$.

Red

One minute, we're on a food line, the next you're getting plowed out, head bowed down. Oh really now? Smh...

Green

we snuck upstairs to someone's messy room and he bent me over real quick to finish what he had started. i heard people close by so we had to make it real quick but it was a good enough for a quicky. i felt like i was in high school lol. i left after that.

Stop

Uh uh. UH UH. Don't you do that. Ladies, don't let no nigga "bend you over real quick". You and your vagine deserve more. Remember that. Also, who can have sex in a messy room? I wouldn't be able to concentrate. You know, the whole Zen factor and all that. I'm just saying..

Go!

the second time i came across him was through an email one of my coworkers sent me. it was his pic where's he wrapped up below with the american flag.

Stop

LMMFAO @ this Dick-in-a-flag ass nigga. I can't...


Go

everyone in the office was trippin' off him and i was like damn i know him. i told my girl in private that i had been with him and she was like "WHAT!!" i knew that he comes here around the holidays so i hit him up on bp again and asked if he remembered me. this time we met at one of those travellodge places. this time i my "aunt flo" was in town so i wasn't there long. i did go down on him again and remember something that felt like a small stone come out when he came. by then i was through with his cocky a$$. i don't know what the hell that was but it scared me and thank God every test afterward came out negative. i do however think he might be down low though. he didn't act sweet or anything. maybe i'm just paranoid because he seems to f*&^ any and EVERYONE. i heard they have a lot of bath houses in atl and he seems like the type. he still looks good but he's starting to look harder instead of finer. i wish i had hooked up with his boy instead of him lolol. those were the days back when i was young and wild!

*Monie gathers Dinka, Byron, and her imaginary pet donkey and hums "Sweet Hour of Prayer"*

I can't...

1. Is she serious? She has the nerve to say she's "paranoid because he seems to f/ck everyone". Bitch please. You were just as quick to f/ck him. Furthermore, this nigga was nasty enough to put his dick in a flag, you saw this hot shit...and you basically sign up to just give him a professional, knowing you can't even get anything in return??


Bam-bam-di-dam-bam-bam-di-da-da-disturbia.
No more gas in the red, can't even get it started!!!!

2. You're swallowing the "babybatter" of someone you don't even know like that???

*vomit in throat*

And you have the nerve to get mad cause he skeeted (what sounds to be) his damn kidney stone in your mouth???


You can read this travesty in its entirety on backstagepazz.com. I can't...

"Good Hair"-- Fuck a Drawstring Ponytail-- the shit Chris Rock Forgot to Include

So I know some of you were moved by the fact that sodium hydroxide (hair relaxer) can melt a can of soda.

Some of you probably cringed in your chair, and swore off perms for life.

*snorts*

I watched that scene, shrugged, helped myself to some more popcorn and told myself that as long as this Mizani perm continues to make me feel sexier than Prince, I'mma fuck wit it.

Til my proverbial wheels roll down to the hub caps.

Because in my opinion "Good Hair" is whatever makes you feel and look good.

Your hair should not define who you are as a person.


Now, Chris Rock, one of my best and dearest friends (in my head) left out one important part in this documentary. But never fear. As always, I'mma bring you the forgotten culprit on why some hos out here are running around here bald.



Naw, it ain't no damn alopecia I'm talking about. I'm talking about the

(wait for it...wait for it.....)

The Draw String Ponytail

Mutha FUCK a sodium hydroxide, the draw string ponytail/pin-up bun is one of the worst things you could ever do to your hair and scalp.

Take it from me.

Once upon a time, in what seems like a faraway land (DC metro area!) I put my trust in a drawstring ponytail due partly to the fact that i couldn't find a consistent hairdresser.

The other reason: back then I would rather spend my money on bottles of Patron, Vodka, and Chipotle. Needless to say, there just wasn't much money to stretch on the necessities (hair, juice -yes, I never bought juice, but I'd fill up at friends' houses:)--, groceries, things like that).

I digress.

So let me tell ya'll--- I loved those draw string ponytails!
I'd rock it down low; I'd rock it up high, to the side, in the middle, with a pompadour; you couldn't tell me shit.
It was like miracle hair in a plastic bag for 8 bucks!

Now as with anything in life, the drawstring ponytail had it's pros, and dammit, it had its cons.

Me and the ponytail would always have a problem when it came to sex and alcohol.

After a night of drinking it always ended up in the strangest of places; like behind my computer desk, in the back of someone's car (and I'd have to call the whole crew to ask had they seen my ponytail-- and this is a question that is ALWAYS met by laughter), my drinking glass cabinet, and one time that bitch even made an appearance at work ... in the sleeve of my cardigan.

The drawstring ponytail aint sex-friendly neither. Missionary is not an option- you will end up with a mean headache and cuts in your scalp. Backshots are not an option either- because men get carried away and wanna grab shit and there goes your ponytail along with a good amount of your own hair on the ground, and that's you in the spotlight looking like a baldheaded donkey.
* Enter imaginary donkey*
*Imaginary donkey brays 'heehaw heehaw*

Also, there is nothing sexy about pulling off your hair and quickly trying to put it in your purse while your gentleman friend is off in the bathroom or something. There's no way you can finagle this into something sensual. Plus, its not like you can just place the muthafucka on a nightstand or dresser. Men who aren't your boyfriend get scared by shit like that.

So anyway, after months of rocking this draw string ponytail, my hair started breaking at the roots because two little combs that practically dig into your scalp hold the drawstring ponytail in place. And that my friends, is one of the main reasons I stand before you today rocking my new short and fabulous cut.

My hair now, is good hair. It makes me feel good, and it looks good when it's done.

When it ain't... well, that's a whole nother story. I don't drink anymore (yes, it's true, folks pick up your jaws) or dance like I'm trying out for Save the Last Dance anymore, so the sweat factor isn't really an issue.

Is it relations friendly? Nope. But that's the beauty of not having a boyfriend.
You can schedule dick prior to when you're going to the hair salon.

*Turns 'Single Ladies' on full blast and does a tranny dance*

*Exit stage*

bwwahahaahahahaa!!

Later Gators!

You Cannot Fall From Grace...

Hey Blogbabies!!

I finally got around to reading my October issue of Ebony with Whitney.

And dammit if I don't love her all the more!

Sidebar- Ebony outdoes Essence any day. I subscribe to both, but article-wise, Ebony writers are just on a whole nother skill set, son!

Anywho, I have always loved Whitney. From the time my dad got the first album where she had no damn hair

(wasn't no compact disc back then, lol)

til now.

Messiness and all. And strangely enough, the messier she became the more I (and many of ya'll too) adored her. Why? It showed that she is human.

The part that caught me the most in the article was a statement she made:

"...I thank him for chastening my heart, for never letting go. What I did sometimes... I went off and did my thing, but He never let me go"

Amen, Whitney.

She goes on to talk about her process of praying and asking God to correct what was wrong with her," to lift her so she could see her light again."

*Monie tears up*

I won't lie-- watching her on Being Bobby Brown was pure hilarity. I wasn't at all surprised that she could behave like that. First of all, she is a Leo. And!

Look at who she used to date.

Eddie Murphy

(crazy ass)

Darryl Strawberry

(cokehead ass)... cmon!

Ebony said that Whitney "fell from grace"

*Monie casts her infamous 'ho please' look*

First of all, cain't nobody fall from GOD's grace, which is the only grace that matters, ya dig? If you're a Christian you know that it is a free gift through Jesus Christ. The very fact that you can rise back after being so down bottom shows that it is impossible to be stripped of God's grace and his love.

This story affects me so much because it parallels my own.

C'mon let me show you the dark side of Monie. :)

I was diagnosed with Agoraphobia in 2007. Go'n and click that there if you don't know what it is.

It is the reason I had to move back home from the urrea. A combination of shit was going on in my life starting from like, May of that year.

Every month I seemed to sink deeper and deeper into depression. I had never been so unhappy in my life.

I stayed drinking. Like my entire purpose of drinking was to drink until I became so drunk that I could not feel anything and could not care about anything.
I stayed in the clubs like my name was on the damn lease.

And I never missed church on a Sunday through it all, lol.

Looking back, I think I always knew that even at my messiest I understood God sees it all and knows it all. I think it was also my way of trying to assure myself that if I did go, God wouldn't forget about me, despite my behavior.


So there I was I hanging out with T's hoodbooga ass, on the road to becoming a hoodbooga my damn self... and shit was just spiraling out of control.
But for some crazy reason I kept trying to convince myself that I was happy because I SHOULD be happy.

The week before my 25th birthday I felt like i had enough. I came home from work with the intention of committing suicide. With a Cheap bottle of Moet that was just sitting in my freezer and a huge bottle of Ibuprofen. I turned off my cellphone and plugged out my landline, ready to go!

Obviously, a bitch is still here, and I am so glad I didn't go through with it.

I won't go into all the detail, but in the middle of thinking about what it is that I was actually about to do... I knew it wasn't right. I knew it was not the way that I was supposed to go out. I remember just calling on Jesus over and over again until I was strong enough to pour the Moet down the sink. When I turned my phone back on my Mom was actually calling, and said she sensed something was wrong with me. Scary, huh?

So after that happened, one would've thought I'd start making changes. However, I was not in the right state of mind. Clearly. The one good thing I did was start my masters, but I continued with my usual madness. Drinking, partying. And I thought it was alright cause I was still going to church. I'd be at the alter every Sunday. Even started going to Bible Study. And hitting the club afterwards.

*Monie turns up the Temptations' "Ball of Confusion" on her radio*

Towards the end of September the panic attacks started.

Now, I 've dealt with panic attacks off and on for the past 9 years, but this time it was just turrbull!

And they'd happen in the strangest of places. The first time I remember getting one, I was drunk in the drive thru of Mc Donalds on Georgia Ave. After that, I'd get them on the metro. Even though I was only on metro for all of 4 stops, it felt like an eternity. I tried taking the bus, but then I started getting attacks on the bus. I got scared of being alone, and I swore everyone was looking at me crazy.

I felt like I always needed someone close to me, like,i stopped trusting myself to take care of myself. and that is one of the worst feelings you can ever have, let me tell you.

Thank God for Nikks who always used to come rescue me since I basically gave her loan of my car to the point it was like it was hers anyway :) And no matter what, she'd always come and get me. There is nothing like knowing you have a friend that is always there for you when you're in a situation like that.
One day I was basically stranded at work because I started becoming afraid of having the panic attacks. That's when I knew something had to give. I didn't want to keep having to depend on people, so I packed my things into storage, took Dinka cat, and moved on back home to NY by October.

I remember the last time I went to church in Maryland, I stood at the alter, just wanting God to work a miracle right then and there. But sometimes miracles are slow. However, there was an affirmation. After the prayer the Pastor turned to the whole congregation and told them God had something big in store for my life. And mind you, I was not the only one up there.

But ... things with me got worse before they got better.

The panic was becoming even more severe. I wasn't even be able to sit in a car to go around the corner. I would have to lay down on the floor in the back seat just to get anywhere. I was even afraid of being home by myself. I knew I had to go to therapy, so I went. That's when I was diagnosed with the Agoraphobia. It got to the point where I was housebound because I was so afraid, and because I was unable to do anything that made me even more depressed.

It took me 7 months, therapy, 2 Iyanla Vanzant books, and God to settle my behind down and realize I was in fact battling some shit under the surface.

First of all, I was damn angry. And I would spazz on my mom and my sister for the dumbest things at the drop of a pin.

But I realized why I was so angry:

In my eyes I felt like a coward for not being strong enough to stick it out, and that made me angry. I was angry at my parents for all the things they did and did not do. I was angry at some of my friends because I felt taken advantage of. However, what made me the most angry was that I never spoke up about any of it. I'd just repress it. I just started confronting my anger this year. Therapy has taught me that it's ok to be angry; that it will not drive you crazy, it's how you express it.

And worse,I realized that I did not love myself. I thought that I did, but I really didn't. People, understand that you cannot love yourself if you don't realize your self worth and don't speak up when someone is doing you foul. And you cannot claim to love someone else if you don't love yourself. How are you trying to go out of your way to please and love someone when you can't do it for you? The shit is impossible.

Now, when I came home, I had stopped going to church because 1, I didn't want to panic at church,and 2, I started thinking that God wasn't listening to me, didn't care about me anymore, and the situation was to be my fate.

*Enter imaginary donkey*
*Donkey brays: he haw he haw, ho*
*Exit donkey*

LOL

I mean, here it was I was getting worse. Eventually I started praying again. I even found it in my heart to talk to my dad after not speaking to him for 3 years. Then my mom talked me into going to church again last January.

Mannn... every Sunday I would cry at church. I mean EVERY SUNDAY. There always seemed to be something in the message that was speaking to me. But hell, I was crying like every other day back then anyway, lol.

Then around March I found a book that I had brought a lonnnggg time ago. Like, 7 years ago by Iyanla Vanzant, called One Day My Soul Just Opened Up.

I don't know why I hadn't read it before then, but I guess God knew I would need it eventually. It helped me so much. I learned so much about myself and confronted so many things that I didn't want to. Go'n and click that last sentence. Buy it, I guarantee you will see a change.

In May, I went on up to the alter at church, crying of course, and got saved.

*Monie, you sure don't act like you saved!*

Oh,but I am!

Being saved is recognizing Jesus is your savior. I have battled with myself long enough about how I behave and things that I do. I'm more into knowing and loving God and Jesus than abiding by religious rules and regulations. I have gotten the side eye plenty of time for wearing makeup, and exposing cleavage at church. I don't care what anyone has to say, God knows I think I'm sexy. Lol. God knows everything about me. We have a good relationship. He knows I'm silly. He knows my hormones rage. He also knows that I have a good heart and I try my best to be a good person to and help my fellow brethren/sisteren. He knows when I'm being good, and he most definitely knows when I'm being bad. He knows all that, and He loves me. Regardless.

These days I am so at peace. If you have ever not been at peace, then you know how much it means to have it. I understand that I am where I am meant to be at this point of my life. I can travel places on my own, and panic doesn't run my life anymore. I still feel anxious from time to time, but I know it will pass. Still working on my driving, but I know I'm gonna get there. And if I feel like panic is going to be so unbearable I embrace it, love it like an annoying little brother, pray, and worst case scenario, pop a Klonopin. :)

I have learned to love myself, both the good parts and the bad parts.

I know my self worth. And I don't hesitate to check folks anymore.

Fall from grace?

*Monie laughs heartily; startling Dinka causing him to run into a wall*

hehehehe

I never fell from grace. How could I ever?
How can any of us ever??? I am God's child. Me falling from grace is impossible. Whitney falling from grace...impossible! You falling from grace.... say it loud...IMPOSSIBLE!

He worked the best miracle that I could ever receive. He allowed me to know Him. It took 2 panic-ridden, stress-filled years to do so, but I wouldn't change a thing. Why?

It had to happen the way it did. I am stubborn. That's my nature. And had I not been brought to the lowest of my low, God could not have penetrated my mind and my spirit the way he had.

I'd still be one confused, drunken little child doing the Walk it Out in the clubhouse. LOL!

(Granted, I still drink, but I am a whole lot more sober these days. And as of August, I've stuck with the one drink minimum. Go me!)

I'm saying though... it's a process.

So even if I never go on to become world famous or do something iconic, that's alright.

You just read it...God has already done so much for me.

I've been delivered.

Just like Whitney Houston.

"We've got somethin' in common!"

LOL

*Monie reaches for her Kleenex*

And that's all for today.

Be blessed Blog Babies!

xoxomonie!

Jamaica--Scandalocity, Trollopcy, Pussy Stop Signs and Sociopaths

Muffins... I am dead ass tired, but after tomorrow, life is back to a halt thanks to school. The syllabi is threatening to cause nervous breakdown, heart disease, kidney failure, cancer, and just straight up... DEATH. So I regret to inform you... my antics will be a bit scarce til after Thanksgiving.
Let's recap, shall we?

*Monie props her legs up on the coffee table, picks her nose, looks at it...shrugs... and flicks it across the living room*

:)p

Let's talk about #4 and his madness.
*sigh*

I don't think I have ever argued with someone this much in my entire life. usually when i get into a cuss-out with a person, i'm in beef mode for like weeks, but #4 has a knack for making me laugh in the midst of what could be intense anger for me. Very much like in that Notorious movie where Big had Faith laughing by singing her some silly song.

And I don't like that shit. Don't rob me of my anger, dammit!

It would take too long to give the full story on all of #4's madness, but here's a un-ordered list of his fuckery

• #4 feels that it's ok to take the very last condom we have (that I brought) and keep it in his pocket.. "just because, no reason." this story will be explained later, as it makes no sense right now. carry on.
• #4 also believes that it is ok to take a girl to a bar "to have a nice evening out".
• #4 lied about his age. It turns out that he is not turning 28, but is in fact 24 going on 25. I saw his birth certificate.

now i interrupt this list to give you the story behind the condom. I shall call it:

I'm Walking Around With This Condom In My Pocket... Just Because- a short story.


So...the second week I was there, I went to visit my sister in Montego Bay for the weekend. Left Saturday, came back Monday. Left #4 with the key to my suite so he could come and go as he pleased. Even though I was on my own trifling bullshit (we'll talk about that later) I see that #4 is in fact up to some bullshit of his own.

That Friday before I left #4 and I had some of our usual mindblowing sex, and that left us with one condom. Jill Scott said it best, "one is the magic number."
Anywho, I made sure I put that one condom where I could see it in the nightstand.

Cause life is always about tests. Pass, Fail bitches.

So you can imagine my disbelief when I came back to the suite and saw NO CONDOM and some weed in the nightstand. I called my cousin and K (who happened to be in Jamaica--she was in Kingston though) screaming and packing up his shit.

Me: So I come back and WHY is the last condom we had missing? What the fuck? I know he doesn't have the nerve to fuck some next bitch w/ the condoms I done bought with my money. And I swear he better not have fucked her in my room.
*packing his clothes and setting them on the chair with two lada (plastic) bags on top for anything he may not be able to fit in the two bags he had. that's me, always being thoughtful :D*
K: that's crazy.... *launches into her own issues w/ her pop-off/boo in NY named Ty* Me: I got to go.
(Precisely why I have a therapist. Anytime I need to talk, people wanna launch into their own shit. Spare me)

So I call my lil cousin and tell her.

Little Cousin: Well you can't really be mad anyway, you had sex w/ someone else.
Me: Yeah, but still. Whatever. Whatever! I'm glad i did it. The shit was good too. Either this nigga produce this condom, which I doubt he will or he get the fuck out.
Little Cousin: We'll see.
So in strolls #4 around 11pm after work that night. I'm so mad I'm smoking cigarettes in my non-smoking room, and can hardly even speak to him.

So he goes on the veranda, smokes his weed, comes back in and says:

Him: So what's the matter now? Me: I'm not quite ready to talk about it.
So he starts guessing.

The second guess he hits it on the head.

Him: You don't see the condom in the drawer? Me: Yeah, where is it? Him: I just took stuff out the draw and put it in my pocket out of habit. Me: Yeah, but why would you take the condom? Who else are you fucking. Him: No one Me: Apparently someone. What made you take it w/ you?
to make a long story short we get to arguing and then he goes into his book bag and pulls out the condom and throws it on the bed.
Him: There it is. Me: So why are you carrying it around with you anyway?? Him: Why does it matter. It's right there. You just like to argue.

And on and on we go for about an hour why he can't just tell me why he took it with him in the first place. Never did get an answer. Don't really care. All I know is he be on his shit, and I be on mine. We agree to disagree.

*shrug*

The End


Aside from this we had several other arguments. Last Saturday he was supposed to take me on a Glass Bottom boat, and it didn't work for whatever reason. So of course I'm disappointed because he's been promising to take me since April. Even though the whole boat thing fell through, one would think that he'd find something else for us to do, but no, instead he's chopping it up w/ his friends. So I tell him I'm going across the street to the beach and he's asking me why I have an attitude. This turns into a disagreement that almost gets out of hand right there on the Negril 7 mile strip with both of us cussing each other out. There were even tears afterwards (shed by me out of anger, cause I wanted to rip his head off).

I think that was probably the last blow out we had, and everything was ok from then on. I don't want to fall for #4 and the up and down dysfunction and madness, but i have a little soft spot for his crazy ass. We agree that we do not understand each other much, but our spirits take to one another.
*rolls eyes*

Now lets talk about Sugar... the other 24 year old that popped off with.

This happened the same weekend of the above condom incident.

*raised eyebrows*

Now before I even got down to Mo Bay, her neighbor/ homeboy was checking for me. Apparently he saw me when I first arrived in Jamaica and stopped by my sister's house and proclaimed "it was love at first sight."

*Monie casts one of her infamous "nigga please" looks*

So, i wasn't even trying to hear his lameness... until I actually met him and saw what he looked like.

*Monie crosses and uncrosses her legs as she rocks back and forth*

Lawdy jeezus lawdy jeezus! The boy was damn...FINE. Ya'll hear me?

• Had the face--caramel complexion, chinky bedroom eyes, GAWGEOUS lips, nice nose, pretty teeth)
  
• Had the body---he must be drinking some extra fortified milk because he was thick to DEATH, but lean at the same time, nice pecs, legs, and an ass to rival Asafa Powell's.
• And he knew it, and thus, had that cockiness about him that I adore in a man. LOL
  

So I met him that Sunday. He came over to help out with cooking for the party. I'm inside the living room eyeing him, and he's eying me from the backyard, but I'm the type of girl who rarely puts herself out there.

I let them come hither.

Not cause I think I'm just the baddest bitch...but because I'm somewhat shy :)

So I go outside to get a paper towel close to where he is...cause I was sweating, plus I wanted to get a closer look. He's all smiling at me, and I smile back and go inside. Still no words exchanged. Next thing I know there's a huge downpour of rain and everyone runs inside the house. My sister brings him into her room to me and tells us to start talking.

So we're there making conversation. He's got me all nervous because he's staring at me and killing me with compliments. I didn't know what to do with myself.
As always, there's some shit to stink things up:

• He has a girlfriend
• He's 24
• He lives with his girlfriend
  

You know... same way it always goes for me. Someone play the violins, please.

Anyway, we start talking about physical attraction and sex, and here he goes telling me that even though he loves his girlfriend and he's happy with her, he would like the chance to be with me because he thinks we'd be good together. And even though he's young, he knows how to please a woman and how to make her comfortable

*crickets*

Boy puh-lease!!

But of course me being me, I'm always curious. So I entertain this madness and start asking questions. Next thing I know, he's lifting me up and bouncing me around like I weigh practically nothing. Now my curiosity is at its peak.

We both decide that we should fuck each other the following day.

So that next day is Monday and I'm going back and forth between should I do it/ should I not.

I reflect on the prior afternoon's Ving Rhames bounce-around and decide that I should.


It was rather good... but recalling it all now... not as good as #4. Additionally, his dick ain't as big as #4's. Overall, I'd give the pipe-game a 7.5. Also, might I add.. he gots to be one of the sweatiest mafuckas i ever smashed. I understand it's JA and the house had no AC but damn!

Word to the wise- several positions are great, however, don't switch things up too quickly.

But of course, as it always goes w/the Monie...this nigga tried to violate.

He tried to stick me without a condom.

Ya'll know I'm not in for that. I had to pull out the Pussy Stop Sign real quick.


Nigga, Halt!!!

See, we started off using the condom, and all was well. Halfway through, he decides he needs a break and takes it off, knowing we only had one. So I ease back from him and I'm chillin, however he's got other ideas in mind.

He was trying to convince me to just go for it, how he gets tested, and he never has sex with anyone but his girl.

Um, how bout no.

Nigga, you here creeping with me, but you don't have sex with anyone else???
You trifling.
So am I... but we talking about his ass right now.

Anywho. So he keeps trying to convince me, then tried to throw raw shaft on your girl. I promptly got up and started putting on clothes. After that he gave up and he went home to go shower.

I have not heard from his since. Nor do I care.

*shrug*

So, yes, that was those were the scandalous parts of my vacay. Aside from all that, I did a great deal of partying and chillin w/ my little cousin. Also getting to understand why it is #4 is the way he is. Not that I should care, but I'm curious about human behavior.

And his leads me to believe he's a socio-path. Go'n and click that there... you might have a sociopath in your cipher too. Those are the signs.

Sociopath and all, I have a little soft spot in my heart for #4-- which is not good. If you read that shit right there you will see that I need to leave him alone posthaste. We'll see how it all plays out. I'm trying to head back to the JA in December for a month. If I stay with him I can save a great deal of money and be okay to move into my DC apartment.

Yes, I know. Stupidity aflame, but hey... we all have our moments :D
I promise to do better...next year. LOL

Later Gators!

xomonie!

Summer's Eve Is For Your Vagina...and Other Realizations

things that this vacay has taught me about myself thus far:

i ain't meant for relationships/roomates. i know i always hem and haw about wanting one... but i'm selfish about certain shit. for one:

- i don't like anyone smoking up my cigarettes, leaving my ciggy case with like 3 ciggs in there.

sure, share the cancer and all that, but dammit, if you're not chipping in, go find your own, per Napoleon Dynamite.


It never fails! Every time I put my cigarette case down, #4 swipes more than half. What the fuck? Have some consideration!

and for two:

-don't use my Summer's Eve thinking its Body Wash. It's not. That shit is strictly for my vagina hole.

Lemme explain. I have a process for washing my vag.
Go'n and click that there. If you wash like this I PROMISE you, you're coochie will never smell off. You could be out all day and it will smell perfect. Unless you got some kinda infection, and in that case, I can't help you there. Planned Parenthood is where you should take your stankin coochie.

Anywho, Summer's Eve usually lasts me like 2 months.

I'm in the shower this morning, done washed the outer part of my coochie, and reach for the Summer's Eve and it feels awfully light. So I'm cracking up laughing and partially pissed because this could only mean #4 been bathing with my Summer's Eve.

Today we went to the Supermarket and I bought some more because I can't live without it. And of course they ain't got the Berry Bliss one for sensitive skin.

To top all this madness off they keep things like this behind a counter with a clerk so I have to ask if they sell Summer's Eve. Wtf????? But I had to buy it cause my vagina's PH would probably go haywire without it.

When we come back to the suite and we're unpacking groceries, I go to the bathroom to get my almost-empty bottle of Summer's Eve Berry wash.
Cause it's obvious I gots to school this nigga.

Clearly the Summer's Eve commercials don't come on in the JA cause he would have known.

*Monie holds up the bottle of Summer's Eve*
Have you been bathing with this?

*#4 looks at me like I'm stupid*
Yeah.

Me: It's for your vagina
*insert hysterical laughter*

#4...he's an adamant mafucka...

#4: No it's not! The one you bought is not the same. It doesn't say that on the bottle.

Me (still laughing): it's the same. this one is for normal skin. but summer's eve is for vagina. use the Avon body wash please. Thanks.

Other shit I realize:

-I hate food shopping with men. They always wanna buy the entire store and cook like they're cooking for 7-10 people and not 2.

- What is the point in being bunned up if dude aint gonna tell you how fly you look whenever you go out?

- Even though I have Jamaican background there's clearly some shit that doesn't transfer over the culture barriers.

Story time!

The other day I get a call in the room and its the chef here asking for #4. So I tell him he's at work. So while I got him on the phone I ask him if he has a trash bag and he says yeah, come for it. When I get there he starts talking about #4 saying that's his friend and whatever.

So somehow we got on the topic of cooking and I was telling him that i was making dinner and he asks if he can taste my hand (can he taste the food). No big deal; I run him up a plate and go get on the internet.

So I mention it to #4 later that night and he got PISSED. Like, I have never seen him this pissed. He's like how anyone could tell me anything and he don't know the guy like that and I know all his friends and how my head is light (basically saying I'm an airhead). So I tell him he's making a big deal of nothing, and go to the bathroom. He comes into the bathroom after me and says:

"I'm checking to make sure you're not in here cutting your wrists. Cause I know you're crazy."

Yup. Pause and light a cigarette.

So I say to him:

"You better get the fuck away from me before I cut you."

Him (mad): What??

Me: You heard me. Why would you even say that shit to me? Where am i supposed to get a knife from anyway

Him: Cut me? I will shoot you.

He starts going off about how too many of his friends have died at the hands of a woman. I'm not surprised. If they were anything like him...mhn

Me: Do it then.

So we get into arguing again and I'm telling him he's basically mad at me for something I did that I didn't even know was wrong. We both go to bed. I wake up; I'm over it, but he's not. He's ignoring me the whole day.

So I wrote him a letter since he refused to talk.

Him: What is this?

Me: A letter.

#4 proceeded to set my letter on fire and throw it in the sink.

Yup... pause and drink some water.

So by now I'm upset to the point of tears cause I'm angry. So he comes to me and says "If you want to talk, talk"

So I'm basically telling him that I thought dude was his people cause he called the room. Why would he give out the room number if it was some random person. He calms down a bit after that and says:

"The guy saw me go to work today. Called to me and everything. So he must have other reasons why he's calling up there"

I'm like , hell how would I know all that. So after we clear that up he tells me he just needs some time and space. Cool, whatever. The next day he comes home from work and he's telling me how much he cares about me this that and the third. Bla bla blaaaah

Whatever.

That happened Tuesday, and things have been cool since. He took me to Margaritaville and a few other clubs since then so we're alright now.

Boy this shit I put up with for the love of nightlife and multiple orgasms...

Other than that... I guess I'm alright. We went out last night and had a good time after his weed fit. He has a serious weed problem. I lost his weed and he was acting like a fucking head case. I asked him if he was going through withdrawal. He got mad and took a shower in the dark.

Probably with Summer's Eve. Lmao

This afternoon we had a ball talking about music and I realized why I liked him in the first place. Cause the past few days I had forgotten.

So yeah...shit like this is why I can't be in a relationship. I know ya'll are like, duh Monie, clearly he aint relationship material. Yup, I totally understand that. But it's just a lesson that you have to accept people for their quirks and strange behaviors along with the good parts.

I can't do it.

I just can't...

later blog babies. i got some subscribin' to do! :)

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!