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!!

i be on my bullshit...ps-keep yo cum to yo'self!

so last night i went and "hung out" with D/m. Naw, lets keep it one hunn'ed-- I fucked D/m. Why? Well, the jury's still out on that one.

*Monie sigh and rubs her temples*

i can already tell you that this is going to be insanity.

so dm texts me, telling me he's watching the game but that he'd rather be doing something else. i already know what he's talking about, but to humor myself i ask him what would he rather be doing.

if you guessed "fuckin"; ding ding ding.

no prizes will be given today though...sowwy.

so, since i wasn't doing anything but watching Mahogany for the millionth time, and he didn't really care about watching the game, we decided to get it in.

he comes to get me, late as usual. so instead of me doing my "just-bang-it-out -right-now" tactic, i decided to sit on the couch and have actual conversation with him.

*Monie sips her drink and lets out a mean belch*

i understand that i get annoyed easily, but dm has a way of bringing it out of me.

whenever i make a statement about something he always has to ask me the following dumb fuckery question:

How you figure?

Nigga, what??!

I'm sorry, I don't have a mathematical equation to give you the answer as to why I feel the way I do about certain shit. I got fed up and let him know not to ask me that question ever again because it's beyond stupid.

Arghh!

After conversation about my vacation, why I don't take pics, reasons why he should give me one of his 4 cameras, and making plans to have fondue next week, we got down to the gettings down.

I can't say it was bad, but I must admit, I couldn't enjoy myself for the following reasons:

• I felt consumed by guilt, like I was cheating on #4 or something
• I kept thinking about #4, and how his hip action is just something probably no other dude I done had can fuck with
• and, this nigga ain't give me no head! But I don't really care... he aint get none from me neither

*shrug*

After like an hour and change I was just hoping he would come already. I just wanted to be done with it. So I hit him with the "grip-grip-squeeze" and then...

this nigga attempted to violate.

As he's getting ready to come, I realize that he's pulling out and getting ready to take off the condom to deliver cum shots on yours truly.

*insert my most intense 'nigga please' look right'chea*

So I rolled over to the edge of the bed as fast as I could. I mean, I was so quick with it I'm surprised I didn't drop on the floor. And this muthafucka comes all over the bed. He really should practice his aim. But who am I to judge?? It might be hard having a penis, I really couldn't tell ya.

Now, a little tidbit about me-- I ain't a fan of cum.

I will go ahead and say I hate cum. It goes on my list of nasty liquids along with mayonnaise, blood, and boogysnots.

The consistency, and the fact that it can get you pregnant...GET THAT SHIT OUTTA HERE AND AWAY FROM ME!

I won't lie, I've had my small share of dealing with the cum. However, I have to have a place in my heart for a dude in order to tolerate his babybatter and even then, it rarely comes without scorn.

But back to what had happened...

Yeah, so DM skeets all over the bed. Now even though it aint my bed, I'm pissed off because I wanted to take a nap! My head was hurting a bit, and I just wanted to relax dammit!!

Me: Euw. Go get a blanket or something to cover that up. I'm not laying down in your babybatter.

D/m feels around on the bed, shocked ( i assume): damn, how the hell did it get all the way over there? i can't believe you just rolled over like that. i thought you were getting in a different position and i got excited. next thing i knew, you were basically just out

Me: Yeah, you keep that baby batter to yourself.

So D/m goes and gets blankets and puts them down so we can have a quick lie-down. I have a fatass moment and start talking about I want chicken nuggets

and he says he could go for some as well. I tell him we should go in the next 15 minutes. It was 1:00 then. Next thing I know we both drift off to sleep and it's 3 am. I wake him up and he's freaking out because he's gotta get up for 6:30 am for work. We get dressed, he takes me home and I fuck up some Lean Cuisine instead.


(You can't always get what you want in life, huh?)

I still feel a bit bad because of #4, but I keep reminding myself that he's out doing his own thing also. Even though he didn't use that condom...he probably used another one (lol)...and there was one night I forgot to tell ya'll about:

My cousin was over and we come back to the room and he's all showered and dressed talking about he was going out without us. So I told him since he wanted to go out, and not take us, she and I were going out too. He started acting all nervous, talking about he wanted us to stay in, and wasn't I trying to save money; basically anything he thought would make me stay home. So then he changes his mind and says he's not going to go out, that we should all stay in. I didn't really feel like going anywhere anyway, but I was determined to catch him in some shit because earlier that day some chick had called his phone and he lied about who she was and then came up with some bullshit ass story. Negril on a week night doesn't have many places to go, so I knew if I went looking for him I'd find him in either 2 places.

So yeah, #4 does his dirt, and I do mine. I'm glad I reminded myself... now I don't feel guilty anymore :D

Other than that, school got me going, ya'll. I've been busy with work and trying to get all my papers done early.

Besos muffins!
xoxom0nie!

More Groupie Sex Tales- Jim Jones

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


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

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

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

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

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

*In my best Cam'ron voice*

KILLA!!

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

Everybody all together now: WHAT THE FUCK?!

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

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

Naw nigga, try again.

That's prostitution.

Who says the world ain't fair?

It is.

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

Nastiness.

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


Smh.

Carry on Groupie:

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

WHAT. THE. FUCK!?

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

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

Nah.

For real though, I have some questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*shrug*


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

I am too through.

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

and that's all, folks.

Groupie Sex Tale: MAVADO & the Two Hundred Dollar Ho

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lax & late, but Dear God, I'm here!! Like Miss Cielie

...but dear God... I'm here!!!!

Hey my fellow bloggies :D

I feel like I've been gone so long. That damn UMUC is interfering with our relationship, ya'll!! So glad I'm only taking this one class this semester, cause honeys ...

*stomp*

I feel like I'm on the plantation.

Glad to read that most of ya'll are doing well. I do read; may not always comment, but I read from my reading list :D

In other events---
Fourth of July weekend was cool. Me and K hit up this club in the Hamptons, snuck into the VIP (I'm still wondering how) all because she wanted to meet Trey Songz. Now as some ya'll know, I was quite mad at Trey (click that there) , but after seeing how handsome he was in person, I'm a little more forgiving. In fact, I'd even add him to the "I'd Smash" list. And I shall... in the next edition. Stay tuned for that...

Facebook Drama
*Baptist Preacher-esque stomp and spin*

Lawd, lawd, LAWD!!!!

Where in the world is Carmen Sandiago out this mafucka, cause I have some questions!?

Oh, there she go. Carmen, sleuth this shit out for me, please!

So why did Old Head and his "woman" try to bring the insanity into Monie's world the other day via facebook?? This girl wrote me, pouring out her heart.

Now, if you can or can't remember, click that there) when I was first introduced to her she snubbed the shit out of me, so now it's funny that she's here spilling out her relationship woes to the kid. I won't post it all, because the joint was long as hell, but I feel really bad for her.

Apparently, Old Head is abusive, disrespectful, a cheater, and a liar. As per his woman, "he has a sex addiction, a fat bitch addiction, and has betrayed me in the worst ways"

Mnh-sha-na-na-na! Sojourner Truth they telling lies, and I'm glad the ho ain't mine!!!

I mean, I pretty much knew all of that except the abuse part. I have no love for an abusive man. None. I don't even want to speak to him anymore. After she wrote me, I called him to ask him what the hell his problem was, and he had not one valid answer. Then after I get off the phone w/ him he's emailing me telling me he wants to fuck.

Uh, I think not, Old Nigga.

He's one of them dudes that like to play childish games and make a woman feel insecure. All I can say is, God never makes a mistake. I am so glad I didn't end up in a relationship w/ his crazy ass. One of us would be seriously injured... and I'm not talking about myself.

What else.. what else?? Oh, yes, #4... ya'll probably won't be hearing about him anymore. We had a somewhat amicable parting via text message. I wanted to do it by phone, but, I wasn't wasting my phone bill on his ass.

Like a lot of you commented on the last post, he ain't shit. I'm taking Pop Pop's advice and "throwing water on him." He was just getting all kinds of out of hand and wreckless; talking to me out his neck. I can't do it. He's too damn far away to be causing drama. You can't tell these men that they have good cockgame, I swear. It gets to their head and they start acting like their dick is more golden than Michael Jackson's casket.

You could have the platinum dick out this mafucka, I won't tolerate it.

I might still fuck ya, lls, but I won't tolerate not being treated like a princess.

See, I'm like Ariel, I don't wear a crown. That's like, sooo retro! *rolls eyes* :D

So yeah, I require lots of attention, affection, compliments... all that good stuff. When I don't get that, I roar. I'm a Leo *shrug* and we're like that. Regardless or not if its a jump off. I treat my jump offs pretty well, if I do say so. References available upon request (kidding :D )
I talk to them like they matter, and sometimes I even hug them! Now since I was feeling #4 I gave him treatment a little bit above this. And look at what I get.

Someone bring the imaginary donkey from the back, please.

*Enter pet donkey*

Donkey: Hee haw, hee haw, bitch!*

Yeah, thanks.

*exit Donkey*

I guess I'mma have to keep shit real sub-standard the next time around. Hopefully there will be no next time around , and I'll be settled down. I'm claiming it.

Well, that's it for now, kiddies. 15 minute break, then back to my grind. Hopefully I'll have some tales from this weekend. Going on one of those Mohican Sun-Lobster Fest bus trips that leave from BK and BX. Should be a lot of interesting characters. :D

♥ Monie!

Vacay Trollopfication and Bust It Baby Bags

JA trip is going good so far. Lots of rain so not as much beach time. Still have yet to do my jet skiing though :(

And sooo...

Thursday we hit this club called Jungle, Boyfriend #4 and I. We had much fun, like we usually do when we go anywhere. After the club, we went to the spot.

Ya'll know we got it in. We went back to the same mosquito factory we went to the first time we got it in because this other cutesy spot we wanted to go to had no rooms. :(

Maybe tonight if I'm lucky?
Hehehe

Anywho, we get up in there, and Boyfriend #4 does some shit I absolutely hate.

He turns on the tv.

Ughhhh!!!

One of my biggest pet peeves is when you know you're about to fuck, and a dude either starts with the incessant talking or they turn on the tv. Now Boyfriend #4 knows I hate this, so he calls himself compromising by throwing a sheet over the tv.

Um, no.

Mind you, since not too many channels worked on the bullshit satellite tv, it was set to Chinese news in English.

That shit ain't sexy!!

I really wasn't in the mood for arguing, so I went into the bathroom, undressed and came back to the bed.

We gets to laying it down, kissing and all that, and then something really stupid was uttered by Boyfriend #4 about him wanting to "breed me" and when were we going to have a baby.

Where my imaginary pet donkey at?

*Pet Donkey steps out into the light and brays*

Hee haw, hee haw, nigga, hell naw!

Me: I don't think so.

Him: Why?

Me: I can give you a million reasons. One, I need to get my career in order, my schooling finished, and a whole lot of other shit. And you need to get yourself in order too. PUT ON THAT CONDOM.

I'm glad he took heed and didn't push.

I am also glad to inform you I bought my own Magnums with me, and I am glad I did, because you know why?

*Audience chimes in:*

Why Monie??

Monie pulls out a box of Durex condoms and stomps the dogshit out of the box

Audience gasps in horror

Monie: Because Boyfriend #4 is yet another big dick nigga using Durex condoms.

*Audience boos*

Exactly. We got into a mini-bickering about it, and in the end we were both happy because my 3 Magnums were used, along with his 2 Durex (sue me, I got desperate) and Boyfriend #4 put in some work that made me wanna pull a Beyonce and buy a nigga a shorts set.

If Pochahontas could smile, I think that bitch would be grinning... even right now.

Later down in that morning all we wanted to do was stay in bed, chill, and commence to some more serious fuckin'. We didn't have anymore condoms, so he got up and got us breakfast, some weed for himself, and some condoms, and something that made me like him a little bit more.

He bought me a comb, ya'll.

*swoons*

LOL

Now granted it was a comb I aint seen since my little girl days at Grandma's house back in '91...



But I'm a sucker for thoughtful shit, even if it doesn't necessarily much.

Unfortunately, I got caught out there without my Buss It Baby bag. Let me explain the Buss It Baby Bag to ya'll.

Ladies pull up a chair, and listen keenly:

Sometimes we get caught out there, wanting to have spontaneous sexual relations and we end up at the spot, coming home after day breaks looking like a hot shitastrophic mess, all because we didn't have our Bust It Baby Bag. This used to happen to me all the time when I lived in DC after taking on Iberian Lynx, and coming home looking like I did infact escape from the Jungle. You know what I'm talkin' bout-- having to go home in day old clothes , and having to rock one of his hats that didn't match what I wore, consequently making me look real bamma-like. Took me a while to catch on, but eventually I did.

I digress... so yes... the Bust It Baby bag doesn't have to be big. You can fit the essentials in a small cosmetic purse that can be squeezed into your club bag. If you have a nice sized purse, this works out even better, because you can put together a Bust It Baby Bag Plus and fit a tshirt or wife B in there.

Bust it Baby bag should have:

travel sized toothbrush and tooth paste

1 panty

comb and ponytail holder

Always Wipes

Condoms (he love you cause you got your own)

your MAC finishing powder

plastic shower cap

1 ziplock bag to put the night before's panties inside

Bust It Baby Bag Plus should include all of the above and:

a pair of flats/flip flops (depending on the season)

spandex

t shirt/ wife b

plastic bag for your dirty clothes

and anything else you think you might need that you can squeeze in there. Now you know. If this is ever a topic on Family Fued, you got this, son!


Ps- Bust It Baby Bag Plus is also for the big gals or the gals like myself obsessed w/ having all her fat lay down flat that rock girdles. Speaking of girldles , Sometimes them hos are not a friend. I will blog about this later though.

I digress.

So...the other morning I was kicking myself for not having my Buss It Baby Essentials. I had my wipes and condoms, but no comb, no clean drawls.

I felt quite skeevy after showering and having to put back on my club clothes which were a damn mess. I wore a white top that night and my makeup transferred all on the collar. I had to put back on my 5 inch heels and spandex. Now picture me trying to get back to my hotel at 3 in the afternoon. And yes, the hotel guards mistook me for a prostitute because they couldn't see my ID band under my bracelets. I practically ran to my room for another shower, and to brush my teeth, wash my hair and get clean.

Ugh.

See, how there's always some shit that pops off when I'm tryna be a trollop? I am convinced, I am not supposed to be having sex. I wish I didn't enjoy it so much.

Alright Kiddos, bout to run off to dinner. I'll be back w/ more updates!

xoxomonie!

Yeah, I Got It In, but...

So Friday night, I did not end up at Prime. Ya'll know what that means, right?

Yup! Trollopfication.

*sigh*

K. didn't have a babysitter (as usual-- which is always the reason plans get left abandoned), so I was set to stay in. Earlier in the day D/m had text me, and left things open, so I wasn't really looking to see him:

Him: Hey Miss *Enter My Last Name*

Me: Hey Mr. *Enter His last name

Him: Whats going on miss?

Me: I should be asking you...

Him: Y u say that

Me: Aint you supposed to service my parts?

Him: You are up for inspection, aren't you?

Me: Indeed. I hope I pass..it's been a while

I don't hear shit from him til eight hours later. As we all know, I don't deal with the fisher price-romper room type of games when it comes to getting my shit off.

So I text him at 9-something:

Me: So...

Him: Just awoke from my afternoon nap

Me: What a long nap. You was drankin??

Him: Now y would i be doing that? Are you in for the night?

Me: Well, so far I am. u?

Him: I am if you tryna see me

Me: I told u i was tryna see u from last week. Stop playing hard to get and shit :)p

Him: Cool, u dressed?

Me: I will be in 15 minutes

(I had already started my shower/shave/scrub procedure from when I first hit him with the text around 9. Talk about being sure of yourself, smh)

Him: ok

Me (about 10 minutes later): Ready when you are

Him: Ok, be there in like 10

So a whole half hour passes (damn, I hate CP time), and he texts me that he's outside. I head out, get in the car, and we head over to his place which is not far. We get in there, of course he's talk, talk, talking away. We talked for an hour and half (yes, I kept my eye on the clock) about basically nothing. So I start getting restless, and ask him if he has anything to drank. He's got rum and coke, I tell him to go get that shit and commence to taking off my pants.

So I can be comfortable while having my drink.

*blank stare*

Also, from past experience I know that if I don't take off my pants, more incessant talking is sure to come.

So he gets back, pours the drinks, I get on the bed, kill my drink and tell him lets get it in.

We won't get into all the lovely details, but I will say being on the receiving end of head for two 45 minute-plus sessions is fantastic.

What is not fantastic is when the condom breaks. :(

After he gets up off me and goes to the bathroom I check myself and see that Pocahontas felt extra wet... so I knew what was up.

We ended up getting into an arguement that went like this:

Me: Did the condom break?

Him: Yeah. It ripped on the side.

This simple Simon mafucka comes back to me holding up the ripped condom.

Me: Shit! Go get me a rag and a towel. Quick! I don't want no fuckin' kids. This is all your fault. You know your dick is too big to be trying to use some Durex condoms.

Him: What?!

Me: Yes, you heard me. Did you get them joints for free or something? Don't you usually have Magnums? I know its a recession and all but damn. I ain't trying to catch no diseases or have nobody's kids.

Him: Me neither. It's not apart of my 3-year plan.

He gives me the rag and towel

Me (inspecting it): Is this clean?

Him: Why would I give you some dirty shit?

I didn't answer him that becuase niggas are trife like that sometimes, and also, I had to get to the important matter at hand: scrubbing Pochahontas with the antibacterial soap and warm water and then peeing.

(As I am typing this I am still pissed. I knew I should've kept my black ass home, I knew it!)

It's a good thing I'm going to Planned Parenthood for my checkup on Wednesday.

Anywho, I go back to his room, and we're in the bed having the whole "disease/pregnancy" convo in more detail. I won't go in. After that I decided that I should dig up old shit and ask him about the time he dissed me when we were kids, and that I still felt salty about it after all these years. He said he didn't think it was a big deal because I never actually told him I liked him, and he just thought we were like best friends, and that he was hearing rumours that I was messing w/ this other kid, in which I had to let him know that it wasn't until after he pulled that stunt. He still disagrees, and is shocked to know this was the reason I didn't talk to him for so many years.

Whatever.


[If I had 20 bucks for the times I've crossed that friendship line with my male friends... I'd be about $60 dollars richer (lol) because they always hit me with that "I didn't know you like me" bullshit. ]

Naw, nigga, I'm just fucking you/kissing on you (etc) because we're such close and good friends.

*Monie kicks all three boo-not-nots from her past in their hind parts*

Smh.

Anywho, I demanded that he apologize to me, and he did. Verbally and... otherwise. Hehehehehe

Needless to say, we ended up exhausted and falling asleep til about 5: 15am.

Waking up, I realized there is indeed a negative side to Daylights Savings time.

During the winter months, one is able to carry on trollopcy til about 6:30 am because it's still a bit dark. Not when Spring rolls around! You better be headed home in the four o' clock hour else you might be spotted. And if your house is set up how mine is, where your bedroom is next to your moms, it sucks.

Because my hair looked like the Rocky Horror Show.

And it just so happened that she was awake because someone tried to break into the house and the police came because the alarm went off. I'm not sure if she saw my shitastrophic hair while I sprinted to my bedroom, but she didnt say anything.

*shrug*

Anywho, because of the damn Durex breakage, I can't even revel on the greatness that was sexual relations that night because I am a hypochondriac. I should have listened to that voice of reasoning when I went to target and waltzed past the condoms.

There were a whole slew of Mags just there for the taking. But because he always used Magnums before (and we ALWAYS use condoms) I just assumed that he was brand loyal.

Apparently not. Now I'm the donkey in the spotlight hee-hawing. Ugh!

Dear God,
Please let me be STI free and not pregnant.

*Sigh*

Later Muffins! I'm going to get a nap in before I start my lil partime hustle.

xoxoxmonie!

it's hot outside, and damn if i don't feel frisky, pimp shit--random

True Life- I Wanna Fuck

I don't know what it is, but whenever the weather gets warm... I be wanting to fuck (pardon my hood-like syntax). It's been like this for 13 years now. May of '96 I was just ITCHING to lose my virginity. Funnily enough, I was supposed to lose it to the Drunken Munchkin, but the wrong one came along in June and trumped him. Consider it payback for this. Go'n and click that there if you didn't read it before,lol.

Anywho, this affliction may cause me to get into some shit I don't particularly want to get into.

I mean, I could change my mind, but for now-- I've decided to add The Drunken Munchkin back to my stable.

(Yes, I know I said I was going to hold out for the Jay-z-Beyonce good lovin' , but its taking too long, and I am convinced that men hate me)
Whatever.

I lightweight hate myself for doing this, but he's G.G.D. (Guaranteed Good Dick) and the nastiest trollop I know. And a chick like me loves that shit!

Tuesday night my hormones got the best of me, so I text him some shit that I knew would reel him in:

*Cue in "I Choose You" ; my theme music for the summer*

My mind ran across you...wondered how you were doing? Hope all is well.

He texts back:

Lemme find out I cross your mind...lol..i'm good, what's going on with you?

Me: Lol, yeah you do. In more ways than one *devilish face* Glad to know all is well though. I'm bored as fuck; maintaining, but enjoying it since school starts next week

* Turn my theme music up a little bit more please, Monie bout to reel him in!*

Him: Look at you..bad girl...lol...haven't seen you in the gym lately. you been slaking mami???

Me: I know. This heat be making me frisky. Imma have to find a way to tame that :)p. i haven't been to the gym lately; been in and out of town, but I do taebo and weights etc at home

Him: Damn, I hope it stays hot. You long overdue for a session
Me: I am..u should pencil me in one of these days

*Louder, I wanna be able to hear the phlegm in Willie Hutch's voice as he sangs 'I choose youuuuu, baby'*

Him: Shit, you let me know. I'll put you in in permanent marker!

*GOAL! *

Me: Well when ARE you able to relieve some of my tension?

Him: Damn girl, why you start talking like this when i leave for FL tommorow?

Me: I'm too jealous! And you're killing me right now cause I'm ready to fuck and you about to skip town. When you coming back?

Him: I get back Wednesday

Me: Oh ok, maybe Friday then so you're rested, hehehehe

Him: Sounds good

Me: It does, don't it? :)

*Sigh*

I'm trying to talk myself into changing my mind, but I can't lie to myself: I don't want to. Plain as yogurt, shawty wanna fuck. 'Tis all.

Boyfriend #4 --my JA shorty-- wait, quick explanation--

(boyfriends 1,2,3, don't exist. I allow them to work their way up. These hoes aren't important enough to start back at 1, a la Brian McKnight)

(Why does he look like he's about to catch a big ole wad of cum on his face? Euwwww, nasty!)

*back to our regularly scheduled ho-gram*

I digress, so yeah, BF #4 and I talk almost everyday. Every other day he tells me that I better not f/ck anyone else, and he'll be able to tell if I do when I take a trip back in June.

*Raised eyebrow*

Now, when I got back, I considered keeping Pocahontas under lock and key, special just for him.

But I checked his email (we'll talk about this another day) and saw that he was emailing the next bitch telling her he missed her. She emailed him back, and I read it, hit "Shift K" to mark it unread, and decided to find 6 boyfriends by the end of August.

Not to mention I am sure he's kicking it with other females. My intuition tells me so, and I listen to that joint.

AND let's not forget the fact that he has a girlfriend, albeit estranged (to let him tell it), but still has a girlfriend none the less.

I'm not giving my loyalty to another man unless he proves himself. In the past, I have been loyal to dudes who saw me as nothing more than a jump... not anymore.

I vow to exercise my pimp hand, and treat these dudes like the hos they are. Not to say I'm gonna be out here fucking them all, because more than likely I'm not, but if I wanna smash-- I'm not going to deny myself.

Besides, thanks to Miss Netta, I am aware that there is help in the form of Pussy B Tight, or whatever that stuff is called. Although I'm scared of rubbing foreign substances on Pocahontas, I would do it. Just so I don't get called out. Hehehe

Well, that's all. Im about to go to the movies with Sissie Dearest. Thanks to everybody who reads. It makes me feel special to know that 102 of ya'll are entertained by lil ole moi. Thank you all!

xoxomonie!

Bitch, Ask Your Husband!

Hey Blog muffins!! I can't even recap the Ohio trip, because the following fuckery occured and trumped its importance. I give to you:

Bitch, Ask Your Husband-- Don't text me with the bullshit. Enjoy!


Let me hit you with the following excerpt from a traditional wedding vow…



Marriage is the union of husband and wife in heart, body and mind. It is intended for their mutual joy – and for the help and comfort given on another in prosperity and adversity. But more importantly – it is a means through which a stable and loving environment may be attained.



Through marriage, Ho Ass Nigga and Illiterate Ass Ho make a commitment together to face their disappointments – embrace their dreams – realize their hopes – and accept each other’s failures. Ho Ass Nigga and Illiterate Ass Ho will promise one another to aspire to these ideals throughout their lives together – through mutual understanding – openness – and sensitivity to each other.


Now, my name ain’t Ho Ass Nigga, and it fa sho ain’t Illiterate Ass Ho, so why do I get asked the following fuckery by Illiterate Ass Ho in the wee hours of the morning??


Picture it:

2:27 am; your insomniac ass awakes to see the following text message coming from some trollop-ass nigga that gave you his number:




“Helo mo y are you textn my husband at 3 am”


* Everybody all together now, chime in audience style: *

“BITCH, ASK YOUR HUSBAND!”

*Family Fued style *ding! * goes off*

Ughhh!!

There I was, not only aggravated by the illiteracy of the text message, but aggravated because she is asking me why I’m texting him.

Now my first reaction was to text-thug the bitch and read her.

The old Mo would have set the QWERTY keypad on fire with something like:

“Because he likes me. He thinks I’m sexy. You should see me. I totally agree.”

or

“What the fuck? You need to go ask your man why he’s texting me back at 3:02 in the morning. He gave me his number, and seems to be unaware of the fact that the two of you are married. You should have a talk with him, and I should not be included, as I am not apart of your marriage union. Clearly, there is something amiss in your relationship. Don’t call or text my phone either because I ain’t responsible for how you're going to feel when we get done talking.”

Not too mean, but nasty enough to warrant drama, which is something I want no part of.

However, therapy has taught me to wait a while before taking action, since I am an impulsive mafucka.

So around 2:30 I politely text back:

“Hello to you…wow! Because he didn’t tell me he was anyone’s husband. Since that’s the case, he can lose my #! Thx!




After all the nice little vows he agreed to, she should be asking him, not me. I don’t owe any explanations because:

I did not take any vows

I didn’t exchange any bodily fluids with him – particularly because he didn’t meet my “looks requirement”... plus it was the week of the 12th-- ya'll know what that means!

Jagged Edge was not playing while I was meeting anyone at the alter in my white dress

My ring finger- nobody has yet to like it enough to put anything there.

Bitch, I don't know you! ( which should be #1 on this list)




I try my best not to home-wreck; I really do. When this woman’s husband was talking all kinds of shit to me, calling me “his wife” (what irony!) I asked him specifically HOW MANY WOMEN did he have. He said he had none. Of course I didn’t believe this, but my thing is this:

Don’t lie. Be honest. Honesty is the biggest turn on next to a big dick and a smile.

There’s plenty of women out there who don’t mind fucking with married niggas (not me).

There’s a vast sea of mistresses out there just waiting to get slayed on a mattress at the Comfort Inn. Just not me.

I think I'm going to call him one last time and refer him to my rules on how to step out on your woman. Go'n and click that there.


I shall also let him reference my supplement Stepping Out: How to Avoid Being A Donkey Click that there when you're done!

Smdh!! Contrary to popular belief, I’m a good girl-- for the most part. It’s just that something about me screams side bitch to these dudes. It might be the things I say. Could be the way I dance. Maybe I got that ho- walk? Either way, I shall discuss this at therapy. And this my friends, is why a bitch can’t ever cease sessions.

Reference:
http://www.weddingplanninglinks.com/planning/traditionalweddingvows.html


ps- to my new followers, thank you!! i shall be reading up and subscribing to you guys!! xoxox monie!

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

Trey Songz Got That Work-- Another Tale of Hot, Groupie Sex

Smh..the things people do with their vaginas… I will never understand.

I never looked at Trey Songz as a sexual being before, no matter how much freaktastic stuff I’ve heard him sing about. And I still don’t. When I saw him at Winterfest last year I actually guffawed when he ripped his wife-b off.

He looks like a baby duckling with cornrows, and ain’t nothing sexy about that.

But… apparently, someone likes it. Thanks to Mediatakeout.com’s groupie tell-all, we now know that “Trey got that work!” Sometimes when you take chances, it turns out not to be all bad, huh?


Go!


Well the Ritz closes at 5 am we left round 3:40. Im like y’all lets try to get in through the back.. but s*it security was there too.. so we turnaround an Trey an his home boys come out (his friends was on some ugly shit too). Trey like whats good.. i aint know who he was talkin to but he was like come here.. so i get over there an he talkin blah blah long story short we exchange numbers.. He invited us to his hotel room.. we get patted down cause security don want camera phones in there..

Stop

What in the Kaplan Learning Center is going on???? What kind of sentences are these? What the f/ck? I really don’t like people who can’t construct sentences. Scratch that, I hate people who can’t write a proper sentence or haven’t a clue about grammar. But here this simple bitch is—about to share her simple ass vagina with Trey Songz, yet doesn’t realize that there’s a difference between turn around and turnaround. I can’t… I just… let’s keep going…

It’s a good thing stupid isn’t sexually transmitted.

Go!

so i get there an he like what up.. i was like nervous cause it was ah lot of people there an his security guard kept lookin at me funny... anywho trey takes me into a room.. we get in there an i know what bout to go down.. trey got that WORK!!! His d*ck is sooo good! He lay me on the bed an was jus talkin an shit.. He get his condom out or what ever an put it on an shit.. he like yo turn around so I turn around or whatever, i can tell that his favorite position.. He told me he like thick girls cause he like to look at they ass from behind.. once he put it in i thought i was gone cry it was so good.. he was putting his fingers in my hair.. trey dont like weaves..

Haaaaaaaaahahaha---STOP!

This poor lil chickenhead. I wonder how thick she was? I can kinda see him smashing out a big girl. We all know how the skinny menfolks get down.

I’m glad Trey (I can call him Trey now, right? I feel so familiar with him and his dick now “or what ever”) was smart enough to use a condom at least.

LOL@ Trey don’t like weaves. Ho, please. They all say that. It’s a lie. Men LOVE weaves! But I’ll get into that another day. Keep readin’.


Go!


so after that we do some ol other shit.. but gettin to the good parts he lifted up an started kissin my belly he had put my legs on his shoulder.. he was kissing my thighs real soft an shit.. so my mind goin crazy.. then he kissed my belly again then my cl*t.. trey ate my p*ssy an i swear on my momma he do it better then anybody!

HALT!!

Monie throws down her imaginary chair; it lands with a thud

# 27: Weekends were made for Michelob… and head game was made for wifey and sometimes sideline ho (not to be confused with Buss Down) —and that’s IF you’ve been kicking it with sideline ho for longer than 3 months or if you’ve known her for a year or so.

Some shit is left to be sacred. Unless of course you noticed a little twinkle in her eye or something, and Groupies and Hos’ eyes never twinkle.

Because the last nigga’s semen is stuck in it.

Do better, Trey. Do better

Go He was like real slow wit it.. I make it to where u feel like u need it to live.. Well he was doin that then he started kissin it.. Trey ah real FREAK yall I’m so serious... anyways when we was done i left an he was make sure u get at me yo.. but i think he got ah new number cause I aint heard from him since . oh an im 19

Stop
She should have left the last paragraph out. If her coochie was so live, he would have given her the new number. Shame and scandal, shame!!!