Lights, Camera, Action... Blackberry Porn

Blog Muffins! How art thou?

So...when last I wrote, I was contemplating on whether I should become a Blackberry porn star. Well... lights, camera, action, move aside Miss Jackson, dammit, there's a new starlett in town. *Cacklin*


We shot a lil scene Friday evening. I thought I'd be shy, but oddly enough, I'm not.

Maybe I'm just that comfortable with #4? It could have to do with the fact that I know he's not tech savvy and there's no way he could take it from my phone and put it on to his, or worse, upload it to gatdamn Youtube.

*cue in scary movie music*

But yeah, I'm quite comfortable being filmed. It may have to do with the fact that I think I'm cute and know my skills *shrug*

Few things I noticed were:

- I really am that damn good. Not to toot my own horn or anything *beep beep* but my performance was flawless. Like, some of these porn hos could learn a thang or two from the old gal Simone.

- I see why porn stars rock weaves. *sigh*
I was all set, yall! I had my hair all did up, put the front part up in a lil Chrisette Michele type pompadour,


but unfortantely #4 cant control his fuckin hands, and messed my shit up. Had the sides of my hair looking like Lovelace from mafuckin Happy Feet.


Not. cute. at. all.

-That Blackberry video camera light is brighter than African sunshine on an Albino's backside.


Like, I word up wanted to hit pause, throw on some Ray Charles type shades, some mafuckin sunblock and then continue handlin' my bidness.




Wtf? Damn, somebody couldn't warn a bitch?!

- Must find a way to get my nails done, or at least make sure my nails are painted at all times. I knew I had man hands, but gaaahdamn! Not attractive!!

- My eyes really are big. Now, this is a fact I've always been aware of, so for this reason I made sure to keep my eyes down for most of the mini flick. But even when they're closed...they're huge! Maybe next time I'll put some eyeshadow on 'em. Play it up a bit.

- Poor #4... got some nappy ass pubic hairs. Like, they need a cholesterol treatment, a hot oil treatment...or something.


They are in fact so nappy, that i was handling down there the other day and thought he had a bump or something. Of course I started freaking out, and he unraveled the pube like it was nothing. *blank muthafuckin stare*

I mean damn, they always felt nappy, but seeing them higlighted by Blackberry's lovely flash... makes them appear even worse. I can't...


So with that said, this lil broadcast needs a do-over. I shall try again this evening. Or something. I mean, I got free time on my hands and shit. *shrug* :D

In other events, I'm still here chillin. Me and #4 still fighting like cats and dogs. He ride my fuckin nerves I tell you. I like him best at night when he thinks I'm asleep. for one, he aint talking shit, and two, he hugs me and kisses my forehead and whispers sweet stuff. But when we're both up and alert... heaven help me talk to strangers!! I can't take him. He still makes me laugh, and he's still adorable though. What can I say? I'm a sucker.

That's all for now, folks.
Later gators!!

monie00x0x

Cause sometimes shit just needs to be said...

Just keepin it funky...

1. I want people to stop telling lies on condoms. They're great, and they work. You didn't use them and now you running around with devil spawn ass kids, lying saying the shit broke. You lie. You lie, damn you!!

2. It's ok to laugh at church. My family and I do it all the time. We making a joyful noise...get off our backs!

3. Some folks need their entire closet rebuked. We all have the one or two bammafied pics in our facebook photo albums ...however... this one chick who is linked to one of my friends, is consistently fucking up all the time.

Certain shit just don't go together. It's like when I wear my pink Frogs (fake Crocs) to the supermarket with my good jeans and cute jacket. I'm fuckin up..but I'm not turning the shit into a Kodak moment. Do better.

4. It's alright to schedule penis around hair appointments. It really is. Spontaneity is cool and all that, but fucking up your $90 of hair investment. Is not alright.

*loosening up bra strap*

5. Don't claim to be a "five star chick" if you're rocking fake Louis bags, kitten heels (Michelle Obama is the only diva allowed to wear kitten heels, i said it), with jeans, and beauty supply store weave in the club. You're just not. I said it. Bombs have been dropped, bitches, get mad.

6. To the dudes who complain about their girlfriends/wives wearing the head scarves and sweatpants in the house... nigga you don't look so great in the house neither. Your basketball shorts and Adidas shower shoes with socks aint making my coochie wet. Fuck outta here!!!

7. To all you hos that have no education, but brag on your looks/pussy. No one is impressed. Not a one. He'll fuck you but he will marry someone less cute with more education.

8. Men, same for you. Bring more than a hard dick to the table. We'll still fuck you, but you won't be coming to the office party. *shrug*

9. R. Kelly can piss on 8 more broads and wear as many purple sneakers and scarves as his heart so desires. I still fucks with him.

"Gracias baby, da me loooooooooo!"

10. Spread love. That's what a real thug do. (Sorry, I couldn't think of anything else).

Deuce here!
-Monie

(I will have a better entry coming soon. Or atleast I will try. School is kicking my ass)

Besos!

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!

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

Diva-Shit, Old Niggas, Bad Fashion-yup, more randomness

victory is mine

i totally KILLED my presentation Friday, and got an added bonus-- another business opportunity. so now i'm officially a marketing consultant. i'm running my own show, and i'm loving it so far. let's hope it doesn't clash with school.


i don't care how great this all is though.. i'm still moving back to DC. i effin love that place, man! the only thing that will keep me here is a husband and/or a very high salary.

i'll probably get the latter first.


old niggas


old niggas trip me out sometimes. i don't really look at them until i have to. it's always because they've violated somehow.



i saw an old nigga rocking some brown leather pants. like this:





did leather pants come back in? see, i never want to assume that i'm in the know, because there's a possibility i'm not. there is a possibility that snug leather pants is in for old niggas.

i wonder if he had on briefs or boxers?

*shudders in disgust*


either way, i'm sure his balls were hotter than the corner of Hell and Equator.

Speaking of old niggas-- there's this man at my church. He's gotta be at least 70; whole head of hair is white as Wonderbread... ROCKING CORNROWS. His wife has her hair conrowed, as well as his two grandchildren. I often catch myself staring at the whole family during service. I know it's wrong, but pray for me.

Please be patient with me, God is not through with me yet.

Say No to Spandex/Leggings/Stirrups-- I Rebuke You-- A Supplementary Guide

Is it just me, or have some major violations-- just downright offensive shit-- is going on in regards to spandex? It's like everywhere I turn, there's some overbalocious (overbalocious= plump, pudgy, whalelike...fat ) chick straight f/cking up some spandex.



Note to the big gals... and i can say this , cause I've been big (size 18) and now I'm semi-big (size 12)... just because elastic is involved, does not mean its for you. Yes, I know its cheap, and you can get away with wearing black leggings/spandex/stirrups almost everywhere...but its the devil. Unless its a girdle, say nay.


That's it.

I know I've been inconsistant lately. school work and consulting work, and tutoring is eating up all my time. a chick be tired, shun!

til wheneverrr,

xoxomonie