Three Years Later… Post Glory Days, and Other Bullshit

I turned 28.

*dead pause*

And as dry as that sentence was is exactly how I spent it.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be alive; Praise God, but as much as I hate to admit it—I’m truly an old bitch grown up now. I remember when I went home to recuperate from life back in 2007 all I wanted was for my anxiety to be gone so I could go to happy hours and clubs with my peoples, drank tequila, and paint the town red…and green, and mafuckin gold.

But no more.

I would love to say it’s because the old crew has disbanded, people who used to love you no longer love you, you no longer love them, bitches got kids and shit, et cetera et cetera. But honestly, even if I had the chance to do it—I don’t think I’d want to.

I am in fact the reason that I am an old bitch.

When you spend 3 years working to feel calm (and this is still in progress), learning to be still when all you want to do is run (for no damn reason at that) ; facing things, and being a grown ass woman—the last thing on your agenda is guzzling dranks and dropping it down low to the floor.

I mean, even when I heard my favorite club (Love) had re-opened I still didn’t feel compelled to go out. That was when I knew it was over for me, because back in the day if I heard the gang was going to Love, I all but wet my panties.

Besides. None of my bad bitches were here to hit it up with me. Plus, I might still be on the banned list from that one night…

*blankstare*

We’ll talk about that hot mess another day. Anywho.

Trust me, I ain’t knocking nobody if this is still their thing. It’s just not mine anymore. And I accept that.

Sheeit…all I wanna do is remain happy, grow closer to God, work this job, get my IA certificate, make more money, marry my baby (most days), have us a baby (most days) , and enjoy feeling calm. I guess I wanna do a lot. But its feasible.

Anyway, I did end up going home for my birthday. Oddly enough the only friends that came to see me were my homey Tamika, Nay, and *gasp* the Drunken Munchkin aka DM.

DM and I have developed quite the friendship actually. He’s actually cool as hell, and I can see why we were best of friends in middle school. I don’t even mind that he’s a chatterbox now. Could be because he’s not generating conversation that’s cutting into dick-time.

*Shrug*

He’d been telling me for weeks he had something to tell me. I guessed either he got someone pregnant or was getting married.

DM swung by my house and he and I went for a walk around the block and he admitted the former: DM gon’ be a daddy ya’ll.

This is truly weird. I can’t picture him as someone’s dad. I can only see him as the nasty trollop who kisses really great, gives spectacular head, and throws some of the meanest penis. But in spite of that, he gon’ be somebody’s daddy.

Apparently it doesn’t change the freak in him cause he was trying to convince me to fuck for old time’s sake. I had to let him know it wasn’t gon’ happen. And then we walked back to my house and had ice cream cake and laughed til the wee hours of the morning.

Went to church the next day (my actual birthday), napped and flew back to the urrrea. Spent that evening on Skype with my future. I love his sexy ass. *cheese*

Truth be told though- sometimes he be getting on my nerves. I know the reasoning is gonna sound silly, but hey, I’m me and it is what it is.

Here’s the gripe I have with relationships. I love being in them until about the 6 month mark. Because that’s when the newloveydoveysupersweetfuzzy feelings wear off. For the men in my situations at least. Is it wrong for me to want that newloveydoveysupersweetfuzzy feeling to last forever? I think it bothers me so much because when I fall in love with someone, I always have that newloveydoveysupersweetfuzzy feeling. It never wears off for me. Unless a nigga just don’t have any actright.

*scratching head*

Then again, the longest halfway healthy relationship I’ve ever been in only lasted about 8 months or so.

Anyway, my man is acting like the love’s going old. Not calling and texting like he used to. I know he’s not misbehaving, I just feel like I’m putting more of my heart into it than he is. I know he loves me. I just want him to be crazy about me like he used to be. Like, I want him to always feel that way. Because of this we get into stupid arguments which often end with me apologizing to him because this ideology of mine, I admit, is halfway crazy. All I can do is pull myself back to even the score. Thing is, I don’t want to. I never want to hold myself back when it comes to loving my other half. I thought I had found someone who loved the same way I did, but now I’m not so sure. And this poses a problem, because we’re supposed to get married in December. I’m not so sure I can marry someone who isn’t as wrapped on in me as I am in them. I’ll have to go into deep prayer on this one.

*sigh*

When it aint one thing its another.

Later Gators.

Xomuah!monie__♥

Fuck the First-- A Dedication to CKO Kickboxing Gym. And Sprint Too

Hey Ya'll!

*Monie plops down on couch, sighs, and blows her wig bangs out of her eyes*

heheheheheheheh :)

Many people look forward to the first of the month. For some it means welfare checks; for others, it’s the start of something fresh. *Monie pours a double shot of Vodka, gulps it down--- and throws body on the floor; squirming in anguish from the burn in her chest*

Anywho, as I was saying; first of the month is always no bueno.

Monie always dreads the first, and here's why:

Several wretched things happen on the first of the month, particularly surrounding my bank account.

It is my theory that Bank of America and CKO Kickboxing gym have a meeting on the last day of the previous month to see which ways they’re going to bend me over, fuck me, and take once cent over the amount needed to throw me into a negative balance and then charge me for “extended overdraft fees”. It is my belief that they take the small sum of money that probably totals no more than $31, split it amongst themselves and buy pepperoni pizza and Sprite.


I could be wrong though. *shrug*

(Damn, that pizza look good as shit--- I can lightweight understand why they're doing this now!)

:/
I digress.

The first of the month is a time for broke-ness.

And as a result of broke-ness; a time for aggravation ; a time for fantasies about running up in Sprint stores, CKO Kickboxing, and Bank of America locations rocking a multi colored weave; gold tooth, mad bangles on my arm, and a ring on each finger--- and behaving like the most gutta Jamaican-Fulton-Street-in-Brooklyn type of hood rat; spouting off all types of "bumboclaats" and “pussyclaaats” and whipping hydrochloric acid out of my purse and threatening to splash it on everyone and turn them into "monkeys".


But, these fantasies never come to life because:

A) I don’t drive, and have no desire to get on public transportation just to tell people about their mothers. It's fucking cold outside, and I’m anemic.

B) Hoodboogaism does not live in me. I came up upper-middle class, and I’m not in the habit of fronting.

C) I have no access to hydrochloric acid :(

D) I’m insanely clumsy, and would probably end up splashing my damn self with the acid.

It’s just not a good look.

So anyway...

In standard first of month fashion, I fire up my PC and begrudgingly log into Bank of America with my forehead mad wrinkled up like old man ass cheeks, and wait to see a negative balance as a result of some fuckery that should not be charged.

And there it is:

Sticking out in red:
Pending ACH HOLD CLUB KO COPIA GUE CLUB FEES ON 02/01 Debit Pending -$64.09

$136.60
*This is where Monie gets to carrying on like a Baptist (or Pentecostal) church woman at a funeral* (For those of you who don’t know; that means lots of LOUD wailing, pacing, shouting, arms flailing and carrying on)

Even though I am home alone right now, I still don’t carry on this way.

I like to believe I’m type dignified and shit.

*Mo lifts wig, and scratches scalp good and hard, then straightens wig back up*

*giggle*

The one good thing about today is I'm not in the negative (thanks FINAID, pending and all, just knowing you will be in there available to me soon-- you complete thee) ; however, I know I'm supposed to have about 200 dollars in there. And I need that 200 dollars.

Because I also have to pay those pussyholes up at Sprint about 100 after taxes on the 1st.

So instead of bringing embarrassment and shame upon my mama for ending up on the news because I carried on with the aforementioned hood-booga antics, I log onto Better Business Bureau's website and file a complaint.



Woe is mo :,(


on another note... moving on Friday :))) WOoohoooo!!

oh. got me a lil boyfriend too. i told myself i wasn't gonna talk about him. at least not until he shows his ass :)

LaterGators! :)

Damn, it feels like forever...

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

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

hehe :)

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

*Shrug*

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


On the boy-front...

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

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

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

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

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

*middle finger @ #4*

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

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

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

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

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


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

*Monie crinkles her nose*

Where they do that at?

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

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

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

Kisses and Hugs to you all,

xoxom0nie!

C.O.P. Magazine-- The Hottnessssss, aow!

C.O.P. Magazine Issue #2 has dropped. It's taken most of 2009 to complete its transformation from Australia's first all-female graf mag to a new kind of chick's mag for girls who don't squeal when they get their hair rained on... s'long as you don't tread on their kicks. Your reading this holidays, ladies, will consist of interviews with LADY PINK, Philadelphian animal artist Monique Ligons, jewellery designer and Mayorette Hayley Mei, tattoo artist OUCH and international graf writers like FAITH 47 and Brazil's ANARKIA. For more information on stockists near you or to order online, visit www.chicksonpowertrips.com. Get ready to meet the new guard. Fuck it, come join it, itches!!!

(I'll be writing for them ;)

PSA- Things You Need to Know If You Tryna Fuck With Me

I need for you to have your own money. You don't have to have a lot. Matter fact, you can even just have enough for you (cause I always got enough for me), but don't expect me to dip into my pockets consistently for you. Love don't pay the bills, and neither does dick.

Don't berate me for being a "princess". It has come to my attention that my parents set high standards (aka "spoiled") me, and I expect certain shit. *blank damn stare*
If you ask me what I wanna do, and I tell you something pricey and you're on a Burger King budget that's your problem. You should not have asked what I wanted to do. Just suggest Applebees or some other cheap shit. I fucks with buffalo wings like everyone else *shrug*

You must take me places. I aint trying to sit around staring in your fuckin face. You stopped being cute a long time ago.

Paying attention will get you far with me. I'm a Leo and we require attention. Likewise, I will shower you with attention. But ignoring me will do nothing but put you on the receiving end of my attitude. And my attitude is funkier than unwashed prostitute pussy when need be.

Appreciate me. If I do something nice for your ass, thank me, and if able, reciprocate. I hate ungrateful men; ungrateful people in general. If you know me, you know that I will go above and beyond, but if you meet my efforts with an ungrateful attitude... I'mma tell you something fucked up and you not gonna like it.

If you claim you love me, show it. You can tell me you love me all day long, but it means nothing when you behave the total opposite.

Don't lie. Uh-uh...don't do that. That should have been first on this list, but that's the beauty of an unordered list ;)


And I'm done for now. There might be another installment. Unfortunately, I gotta pay per hour to use internet, so a bitch is limited.

Ciaoxoxo

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

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

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

*snorts*

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

Til my proverbial wheels roll down to the hub caps.

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

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


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



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

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

The Draw String Ponytail

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

Take it from me.

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

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

I digress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Exit stage*

bwwahahaahahahaa!!

Later Gators!

You Cannot Fall From Grace...

Hey Blogbabies!!

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

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

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

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

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

til now.

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

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

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

Amen, Whitney.

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

*Monie tears up*

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

Look at who she used to date.

Eddie Murphy

(crazy ass)

Darryl Strawberry

(cokehead ass)... cmon!

Ebony said that Whitney "fell from grace"

*Monie casts her infamous 'ho please' look*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

Towards the end of September the panic attacks started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I realized why I was so angry:

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

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

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

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

LOL

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh,but I am!

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

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

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

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

Fall from grace?

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

hehehehe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I've been delivered.

Just like Whitney Houston.

"We've got somethin' in common!"

LOL

*Monie reaches for her Kleenex*

And that's all for today.

Be blessed Blog Babies!

xoxomonie!

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!

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

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

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

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

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


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

and for two:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Other shit I realize:

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

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

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

Story time!

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

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

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

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

Yup. Pause and light a cigarette.

So I say to him:

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

Him (mad): What??

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

Him: Cut me? I will shoot you.

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

Me: Do it then.

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

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

Him: What is this?

Me: A letter.

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

Yup... pause and drink some water.

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

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

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

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

Whatever.

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

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

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

Probably with Summer's Eve. Lmao

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

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

I can't do it.

I just can't...

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

Taking Steps Out the Closet

Whenever someone is brave enough to allow themselves to be vulnerable by sharing their thoughts or talents with this world, I stand in admiration of them. It's not as easy as a lot of people think. Many of us dim that light we could be shining so brightly on others because we are afraid we won't be accepted; someone won't like what it is that we have to say. What we do. How we look. What we fail to grasp a lot of the time is that it will always be something.

So in knowing that; say "heyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" , do a tranny dance, and let it all hang out. Messiness and all!

I've spent several years of my life with my own light bulb switched off. God has blessed me with several gifts; particularly one of the most imaginative and creative minds that I know of. I've been using this talent to help me write since I was about seven; when my second grade teacher gave me a journal (Thanks Norma! :D ) I have about 5 finished books sitting in storage in Maryland; with one still in the works. Very few of my friends have had the opportunity of reading them.

Because the perfectionist in me is also the part of myself that keeps me in fear.

I feel like whatever I create HAS to be perfect.If I get up to sing, I better sound perfect. If I draw something, it had better be perfect. Clothes, better be perfect. Makeup, most definitely better be perfect!

But what is perfect anyway???

(I'm starting to hate that word)

I've just finished reading Staceyann Chin's The Other Side of Paradise and its brought a lot of things into perspective for me.

If you haven't read it, you should. Won't give out the whole story , but she basically takes you through her life growing up in Jamaica where all the odds were against her. To top it all off she comes to realize she's a lesbian in a country that is NOT tolerant of homosexuals AT ALL , but comes out the closet anyway.

Why am I inspired? Because I LOVE and RESPECT people who are not ashamed to be themselves despite what others might say, to the FULL. To me that's the most courageous thing anyone could do in a world where people are critical and hateful of anything they may not understand. A lot of you who blog about your lives, your deepest thoughts, sexuality, whatever it may be; I love you for that. You didn't have to share, but you did. And I appreciate all of you who read my blog, because I'm allowed to let out every side of myself that I would have otherwise just kept silent in fear of being told "you're a wierdo".

Yes, I write under a pen name, and only 4 friends(aside from my therapist) know that I write this blog; but its because I like the freedom to write about any and everything/everyone without getting phone calls saying "who the fuck i think i am to be writing shit about..."
This is truly therapeutic, because whatever I write knows no boundary. The friends that do follow me; they are people I can say ANYTHING to, and for that I love them.

Is this hypocritical since I'm talking about being true to thine self today? It is. Not that I'm apologizing for being myself, there's just certain things I'd rather certain people in my life didn't know. Be selective ya'll... you never know who might wanna blackmail yo ass.

Will I ever truly come out the closet so to speak? Maybe.

Anyway, like I was saying, I admire Staceyann Chin for her courage to just be herself. For leaving Jamaica to be able to live her life out, proud (and way more peacefully I assume) in America. For not letting poverty or lack of supportive family hold her back. Being courageous enough to always speak up and share her poetry and memoir with this world. For never allowing anyone to turn off her light.

And when I feel like I want to put the dimmer on mine, I will remember her story and everyone else I believe to be a hero, and turn my light up all the more brighter.

xoxo-
Monie

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.