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!

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!

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_

Straight Bitchin'

PMS sucks

I'm in a shitty mood. Had they not jacked me for my Klonny at Guesthouse that night, I would take one.

S/b:How mad am I that the bouncer stole my meds, and probably hawked them off to some crackhead in the streets. I hope whoever turned my pills into crystal meth (or whatever people do to prescription meds) ended up at Beth Israel . Bitches.

Back to Pms.. so yeah...

I know I have it, and I don't need a doc to diagnose me. Besides, even if I wanted to , I can't. Because I haven't had healthcare bennies since 2006! Supposed to be getting Medicaid on Friday. We shall see how this turns out. I'm good for getting aggravated easily, and if the form is too long, I'll tear it up, and wait on my sister in the car. Because she's breaking down to go get Medicaid too. I've been putting getting public healthcare off for the longest because in my mind its like admitting you're truly poor. But K says she loves Medicaid. Because they cover abortions. And althought I doubt that I need that particular service, who knows? Better safe than sorry, right?

"You Have Issues"

Someone left this comment on one of my f/b statuses.

Ah.. some folks don't understand that thoughts are fleeting. They come in, they go out. Wax on, wax off.

When people say shit like this to me, I'm pretty unfazed. I've gone to therapists off and on since 2001, so clearly, there are some issues there. In my opinion, everyone should be going anyway. Then there would be no need for me to get raped by Sprint's Unlimited $99 Plan (that is never $99) every month, listening to the gripes and complaints of friends who refuse to go to therapy, but want my advice.

SO like I was saying.. I may feel one way one moment, and another way, probably minutes later. So what? Today I feel like I hate men. But it's only cause they hate me..or so it seems .

*Gas face*

But tommorow, maybe even tonight... there's a possibility that I'll be back to loving them. Because afterall, I might have sex again one day. But for now, I choose the layaway option. :) Go'n and click that there. It's just easier this way. Smdh.

Anywho..

I was supposed to call one of my potential (I use potential loosely) clients at 7. It's 7:09, and he's texting asking if we're still on. I'm treating him like a prostitute because he has yet to actually decide he wants one of my services. I don't work for free, and I don't give ideas for free. So I'm not in a rush. I let him know on Sunday if he calls and wants me to come to one more meeting, he must pay me for coming to the meeting. I don't play that shit. I have homework.

Lata Gators.
Pray that my spirits lift :(

xoxo

life, more ashy penis, dirty panties, et cetera...

christmas day

christmas was cool. ya'll know i'm not big on the holiday in its commercial sense, but it represents God sending down the ultimate gift, his son... to eventually die for a sinner like me. and you, if you thought you were perfect. :) if that isn't love, then i don't know what is. so, thank you God for continual deliverance. thank you for these past 4 Christmases where I haven't had to listen to my dad argue with us so he could go spend time with whoever else. thank you for peace. thank you for JOY. thank you for allowing me to overcome and not be overtaken by the MISERY others want me to believe I should live in. *praise dance*

family ties

so...
the family came over... you know my cousin Opal and her bad ass kids i talk about from previous posts... yeah, them. woo lawd, they're something else. Opal demanded that everyone only eat one serving so that she could "take all the food home." and she literally did. all that is left is rice and peas and potato salad. you know you follow the doctrine of fatassedness when...

anyway her son, nick (my cousin who is in jail) we finally met his 9 year old son for the first time. he's so adowable! and sweet. he knew to stay out my damn way, and i love that! nick is 24 now, which means this child was born when he was 15... making opal a grandmother at 30. oooh, imma leave this alone, cause i could take it all types of places!

dicktalk
yeah folks, miss dickless (that's one of the many nicknames i call myself in my head) is back on the topic of 'The D'. Kia got one more time to brag on how good she's getting the pipedown..ooh!! Sometimes I feel like I'd smack her out of jealousy! So...she's carrying on a semi-scandalous affair. She's messing with her younger brother's best friend. Mind you, this best friend done slept with three of her other cousins; so he's like the family ho. *raised eyebrows*

Anyway, I went to borrow a bottle of Wray and Neph from her mom for my mom, and she's walking like she's got an egg between her legs that she's trying not to break.

Me: What's wrong with you? Why you walking like that?

Her: Girl! Little Rob... he was f/ckin me like he had something to prove!

Me: Was ya'll doing it in the car again? I sure hope not! It's too damn cold out here..

Her:Naw! He came over here on the late night. My cervix is hurting.

But I think it's cause I'm still sore from getting daggered by Mike.
*Blank Stare Blank Stare Blank Stare!*

Me: Damn son. Maybe if you try lifting one leg, it's all about the angle...

Bwahahahaa... guys just bear with me, ok? I know I sometimes talk about things that go against what I'm supposed to be doing, but please be patient with me. God is not through with me yet. (Love that song).

Anyway, after hearing the details about the daggering, I decided to get her opinion on the penis picture mail and whether or not she thought it was ashy.

She concurred, also thought he may have placed the tape measure at __ inches, and told me not to have relations with him if i decide to have premarital relations because I will be in pain the same way she is today. I told her I have no intentions of doing so. i want what they have before anyone inserts anything anywhere. see below:

Something for Nothing

You know, the penis picture mail is already threatening to cause problems. In this life you really don't get something for nothing. And in this case its really effed up, because I didnt even ask this boy for dickflix. He just sent them over to me and I looked because, well... MJ said it best:

And they say why why... tell 'em that it's human nature!

So yesterday I get a text from ASHford Dickson:

*ahahahaaaaaaaaahahhaa*

ASHford Dickson: Your turn for pics.

Nigga what?! No merry christmas, nothing, just that text. I didn't respond. I don't take x-rated pics of myself for several reasons:
01. the possibility of fame. i don't want anyone on my vh1 special saying:
"Aww *Bleep* I remember one time she text messaged me pics of her *bleep* and/or vagina"

02. i'd never send my vagina via sprint picture mail. too many pe0ple i know work for sprint. even though i'm sure they tell us its anonymous, i kinda feel like its not. i don't want anyone up at Sprint saying shit like:

"Damn. Her labia is mad long son!"
Even though its not... yaknawmean? No thanks.

03. i wouldn't want to put my vagina anywhere that close to my cellphone. i let people use my phone all the time. I don't want to be looking at them like 'Damn, my p/ssy juice might be smeared on the side of your face right now.' Euw.

.04. the possibility he'll show it to his friends... you know, the way I showed it to my friend.

05. In order for me to even ponder doing it... I'd have to be in deep love; and yes, this involves the man acually loving me back.

No Dutty Panty

Why outside my world (my bedroom) I hear my mom telling my little cousin:
*In mom's jamaican accent*
"You're not supposed to wear dirty panties! Don't wear a panty more than once. Your mother told me you do it; don't do it here. You mustn't wear dirty panty! "
(This is my little cousin that likes to run away from home from time to time with no clothes. When asked what she does for clean underwear she told us that she'll put her panties on inside out)
*I. Can't. Take. It*

Talk di Tings

Sometimes I feel a smidgen bad for talking about the folks in my life in my blog. But guilt is an evil emotion, so I do what my therapist tells me to do. I rationalize with myself. It goes like this:

I talk about myself in here too. Even the embarassing stuff. If they didn't do these things I wouldn't have to vent about them. It keeps me sane, and allows me to not have to compromise my christianity by telling this or that person, 'Hey, I really think you're an evil, cunt whore/and or/ miserable/and or/ jealous sack of shit' ...or however else I feel at the time I'm made mad.

Therefore...I'll continue to keep it as funky as my cousin's draws up on this blog. Thanks.

facebook rape
some days i wonder if i should just take my bumboclaat off of there. facebook, we used to be so good together. now, we have issues. folks, don't set up groups just to mail out invites. i have a good friend who is now a Kappa. His life revolves around getting drunk and partying, having sex with whichever girl will have sex with him--- and sending out conuntless invitations on facebook. Now all of that except the latter is fine. Now he's starting to intefere with my life. If I get another invite from this Naughty Nupe I'm gonna use that Blackberry pin number he's been posting as his status for the past week and get up in his ass. The shit is getting out of hand now. He's even adding friends of mine and harassing them! it's too bad he's my friend in real life, or else i would have been deleted him.
ok, i think that's all i wanted to press on. i'm gonna go work out. it's been like almost 3 weeks now. not good. i have to preserve my sexy.
in case i don't become famous and end up wanting to show my vagina on picture mail. hehehehehe

ciaobabies!!!