Such is life...

Hey Cupcakes!

Yup.. I'm still around. Glad to see some of ya'll are as well...and welcome back Miss Bella. I missed you.

Still here in DC trying to catch up on life and thangs. Already looking for my next apartment cause the rent here is higher than Richard Pryor in the late 70's!!s

Gonna move into a nice part of SE DC.
Wish me luck.

I do need to find me some friends though. Some new ones. The old ones I still fucks with are always busy and I'm alone way more than I should be. If it weren't for church and me running my mouth with everyone who seems normal and bus drivers, I'd have no human contact. I talk to people at work, but my boss is Hitler in a knockoff Tahari suit and has everyone uptight so we don't really say much to each other.

Speaking of work, basically, Monie don't do shit all day and gets paid handsomely for it. I wish I were able to do something, but my boss is a miserable micromanaging hellion. This ho talks more shit than a lil bit about everybody. She did me real dirty this week, and muffins, I tell you....If I didn't know my Jesus, and if I didn't have class in the daytime... I would have told this heifer about herself, her vagina, her mama, and her whole generation.


Anyway, so here I am. Master's in hand (the piece of shit degree finally came in the mail), doing nothing that has to do with marketing...doing nothing at all. I can't even get on blogger and type like I want to because my PC screen is like friggin 25 inches and everyone walks past my desk. But, Monie's no fool. I done found friends in some important places there and they're mentoring me for my next come up. Stay tuned.



I'm trying to make myself write more these days, but oddly enough... the more content I am, the more boring I become.

Go figure.

Muah! Love you muffins!
xo

H.O.M.E.L.E.S.S

H.O.M.E.L.E.S.S


Bet ya’ll didn’t know that word was an acronym.

Monie, say what?

Hell fuckin’ yeah.

Look it:

*Monie hurriedly scribbles the the following word vertically on her imaginary chalkboard and uses the chalk to point out each letter to your attention*


H is for Hustling

O is for Others'

M is for Money

E is for Eating (and drinking too) and

L is for Living free off of

E veryones

S hit and finally

S for So the fuck what, bitch?

*Chalk snaps in half from all the hard pointing. Monie throws what’s remaining in her hand somewhere over her shoulder and barely misses Dinka cat’s head*
Good-bye T.O.N.Y., Hello H.O.M.E.L.E.S.S.!

Solange aint the only bitch that can make an acronym out this mafucka!

H.O.M.E.L.E.S.S - Got it, everybody?
Now for today’s diatribe.
*Cue in T.O.N.Y instrumental*

I don’t like homeless people. That’s right, I said it. I don’t.
I feel like 99% of them are living foul-like—begging for money under false pretenses of being hungry and having no money for the bus. Meanwhile, they got more money than me because during the 8 hours I’ve been busting my ass for about $35 dollars an hour (that gets tax-raped down to like $17) you, oh Homeless Wonder, have been sucking dick tax free for crack and Popeye’s Chicken.

(Click on these pics to enlarge-- they're a must see)

And if he (or she) is one of them new age Nomads like the ones that bless DC and NYC they fucks with nothing but Starbucks, Coca Cola, and Fiji water.

Monie, say what!?

Oh yes!! They are brand whores for real. I implore you to keep reading!

Well damn, bitch-- why are you so mad about it?

Really, it’s a combination of a whole lot of things, but I ain't got time for all that.

The main reason I’m so mad is because I KNOW for a fact (ok, maybe not a fact, but I have a strong ass feeling) that these ho’s are holding no less than $40 bucks after they done got through a day’s “work”.

Story time.
Yesterday, the 21st century nomad that posts up by my job asked me to spare some change. Now, I have watched old boy very closely since I’ve begun working at my job.

Every morning around 7:30 I see him sipping STARBUCKS coffee or Frappuccinos.

Every evening he’s across the street from Starbucks posted up in front of CVS panhandling for bus fare, snacks, and the cold drink of his choice. Make note that he only panhandles evenings.

What’s on his agenda in the mornings??

Mmmhmm.



Dick suckin’ and crack smokin’.
Swallow it, gargle it.



Sometimes I see this ho ass fucka on the bus. He rides it 3 whole stops and gets off. And! Wait for it….he wears an exceptionally clean pair of Jordans. Yes. JORDANS. I kid you not.



See, I’d respect ‘em more, and would probably even dip into my pocket *blankdamnstare* if these bastards told the truth or didn’t yell out demands to me.



So now that you have the background on this mafucka--- continue on.

Anywho, when he begged for my money I kindly told him that I debit everything and don’t carry cash. Which is true. Right now I exactly One Cent in my wallet, 2 void checks and $10 Jamaican dollars which is probably equivalent to…half a cent. Dead ass. After I said this to old boy, he yelled out something that left me fuckin’ flabbergasted.

Wooo chile, tell us what he said!

Sheeeiit…would I be me if I didn’t?

This muthafucka said,

“Well when you go inside bring me back out a Coca Cola!”

Say whaaaaa?!

*In my best Solange voice*

Homeless don’t beg no mo’/ They be makin’ requests oh noo

Yes, ladies! This fool didn’t even ask for something to drink, he demanded his choice of soda. Mind you, if I had, it would mean I’d have to walk in the opposite direction of where I’m going. He got a lot of nerve! I guess not having a home doesn’t stop a man from acting like a man, huh? *blank.damn.stare*

Just for kicks, I looked at the price of Coke and it was $1.79, which probably after tax brings it up to $2.00 and change. Part of me wanted to go back and elbow buss him in his dusty ass head. Because I can do a whole lot of shit with two dollars.

Let me break down the value of $2.00 in Monie’s world:

- That’s one day’s travel to and from work (or at least it was until Metro hiked fares yesterday—thanks ya bastards)

- A four piece chicken nuggets and fries at the Golden Arches—which Monie’s fat ass shouldn’t be eating, but still.

- One load of clothes washed (or dried) in the laundry room

- One can of frozen concentrated juice which I am forced to buy thanks to this severe case of broketivity I’m experiencing

- A box of Rice-a-roni. You know, The San Francisco Treat? Yeah, that shit

- A small Lucerne brand coffee creamer. I need this off brand shit for my coffee. So I can stay awake at work while I stay busy pretending to be busy

- Not just one, but two bags of sliced bread.

- 3 international text messages at.60 cents each.

.

Seriously, I could go on forever, but ya’ll get my point


“I coulda been alright by now if it wasn’t for H.O.M.E.L.E.S.S ”

*Monie blows bangs out of her eyes*

Later ya’ll. I know u loved these pics--- especially Khaki dearest :)

Unmotivation, Baby Fever.. eh...

I think I'm going through a point in my life where I'm just... I don't know. I feel unmotivated. And plain fuckin bored. There's so much I want to do that I'm not doing.

For instance, even with this blog. I've slacked off majorly, and I'm mad at myself for that. I wanted to turn this joint into a book by next year, but I dunno. Even now that I do have the time to write I haven't been. I want to publish one of my books or at least start a new one and complete it by next year, but I haven't gotten started.

I just feel stuck in a rut.

I blame the University of Maryland.

Since I've finished I'm just not motivated to write anything. I can't even stand opening a Microsoft Word document beccause I get flashbacks of 25 page papers.

It would be nice if I could have gone away for like 6 months after school finished.

Something's gotta give.

Even certain friendships. I haven't been keeping up with them, but that's mainly because folks got their own shit going on. So I've stayed to myself. Of course this poses a problem, because I'm always alone. I have no human stimulation outside of church on Sundays. My fiancee' doesn't live here , but we're always on the phone or Skype. Therefore, my phone bill is higher than Frankie and Lil Wayne put together.

My friends who do live in this city are always busy. My girls have all started families, and I haven't even seen Pop Pop since I moved down, which is shocking as hell. I guess he just outgrew me or something. *shrug*

Now I see why bitches' biological clocks be ticking. It is my theory that after a certain age people make babies because they get bored with life and want something to do. Dare I say it... having a baby doesn't sound like a bad idea to me these days.

Anywho, stay up ya'll.

I'll be back.

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.

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

Hey Muffins!

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

*rolls eyes*

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

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

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

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

We'll press on this topic later though.

*raised eyebrows*

I digress...

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

That recession is still rockin out hard, huh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*rolls eyes*

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

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

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

*pause for the mafuckin' cause*

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

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


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

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



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

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



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

You
WON'T
get
half.

(I'm putting that on a tshirt)

So anyway.

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

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

I can already sense this may get messy:

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

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

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

*Blank damn stare*

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

So we shall see.


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


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

Why I Declare! I Regret You, but I Don't Regret the Orgasms and Other Cynacisms

So as I sat flipping through the man-o-log of my life, having silent conversation with myself (as i usually do); i thought about the men I've smashed, and realized that I regret all of them.

*Monie lights Marlboro Light, puffs, and exhales*

(I have switched brands...I've also quit, but in my mind, I'll always be a smoker--hehe)


So yeah, every last one. Except for the orgasms.

The orgasms were quite magical and I 'preciates 'em, as it can be quite hard for a female to achieve one, much less several as I have been lucky enough to gain.

I have given up on finding "that perfect love" that I so wanted earlier this year. Fuck love. I'd take a cheeseburger (preferably flame broiled) and some good cock over love any day.


I will settle dammit. I will settle for good, consistent dick, that is. Because these
"relationships" are nothing but a headache. Sex cures a headache, by the way. It's scientifically proven! Go'n and click dis here.

Should I ever settle down, I want a husband who is always away on travel. Except for the weekend. Weekends were made not only for Michelob,


but for hours of hardcore frolickin'.

I mean, I could always hold out for a good man, but by that time, I may be old, he more than likely will be ugly, and to be quite frank...a bitch aint got time for that.

And that is all for today.

xoxom0nie

Random Shit & Possible Youtube Shame

Ay dere muffins!!

I swear... my stomach always wants to act up when I'm out and about. I was just at my own spot, and now that I'm in the internet cafe... here comes the doo-doo monster doing the walk it out in my intestines. :(




#4 and i were "frolicking" (my new name for head-acrobatics, lol) and in the midst of me doing my thing he asks me, "Do you ever get tired?" I thanked him for his concern; told him that, yes, I do, but I am determined to be the best at everything I do (damn perfectionism). I then asked him to be quiet, and bust a nut so I can feel like I accomplished something today. *blank damn stare*

After mission got accomplished he tells me that I get better and better every time and then says "I wanna record you on my phone"

Ermmm.... Now, I'm all for freaky shit, I really am (so long as it doesn't involve my asshole or any baby batter in my mouth), but I've always been iffy about being recorded.

What happens if/when I become famous??

(Yeah, I know, its a bit far fetched, but for some reason I see red carpet in my future)

I don't wanna be a victim of youtube!

But dammit, I got caught up and agreed to it...after I did my hair...because it's been looking like hot shit due to the fact I had a lil cold and couldn't wash it.

So I guess if I'm ever shamed via youtube, at least I can say my hair looked nice that and healthy that evening due to this ApHogee protein treatment I'm about to put in it. *cacklin'*


I will also be a wee-bit proud of myself, because I have skills to rival Superhead. *shrug*

Anywho, I'm on an internet limit, so that's all for now. Perhaps tommorow?

Later Gators!

xoxomOnie
(always talking shit)

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!

Real Quick...

I know I'm not the only one who sees a resemblance:


I just wanna be successful. Lmao.

So there's a movie based on LeBron James' high school career coming to the theaters..

uh.. why isn't this shit going straight to Cinemax?? Lionsgate...ya'll fuckin' up.

How did I ever forget to share this hilarious tidbit with ya'll?
So one afternoon me and #4 is getting it poppin and I decide to bless him with my head game ridiculous. While I'm down there I notice that it tastes a bit sweet. So I say to #4:

Me: You don't taste half bad. You're on the sweet side.

#4 looks nervous: You know, diabetes runs in my family. I wonder if it means I'm diabetic.

*moment of silence*

I was so stunned by the stupidity that I couldn't even laugh.

Yup... definitely a sign I need to bring things to an end

Anywho...

I know I'm not the only one who sees the resemblance:


Uhuh, go'n and admit it. Anyway, the school work awaits.

Lator 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!

Stay tuned for the updates

Hey Blogbabies!

I know, I have been scarce. So much to tell you all about. Limited internet access because I have moved in #4's place the last week I'm here to save money. Unfortunately I will be bringing my trip to an end this Wednesday, but on the upside...scandalocity to come.

I done got some insurance dick from... let's call him Sugar. Cause that's what he likes to call himself for some strange reason I don't know. And wooo chile... Sugar slings the D like whoa. Details to come of how he picked me up and bounced me around like Ving Rhames did Mama in Babyboy

Additional fights between #4 and I... and how I felt myself gearing up to slap him with a piece of fruit.

And other tidbits from my vacay.

I know I have some folks to follow... I didn't forget ya'll ! and thanks for following me! I appreciate it.

monie