Friday, September 25, 2009

I Got a Buzz Out in Murrland

First things first, allow me to stunt for a moment or two by posting the following pic(s):

as always, no make up, iDon't have the time for that shit, Sexy specs, "ghetto hoops" as my lil sis calls 'em, a Coke T-shirt even tho you can't see it and a smile. kinda cute huh? lol
iDon't like this one as much but eh, I'm still sorta kinda almost cute so who cares? lol && SHUT THE HELL UP talkin' about my hair. Even w/it not done I'm shittin' on you ho's Geisha style LMAOO
 Ugh...PhotoBucket is actin' ass once more, those lines? Yeah...not supposed to be there and I can't crop them out. BOO on that. Anyway...
That’s right bxtches, I got my braces taken off!
I've been smiling at any and everyone since Friday, September 18th at a quarter past noon when I hopped my light skinned ass out of my soon to be ex orthodontists chair. Stupid retainer in place, I even smiled at less than smart orthodontist person man dude sir him when I wanted to send my retainer case—which I still can’t find as of press time smh—on a journey through his insides for what he said to me. But bump him…with a bumper car driven by a fat kid gone off of elephant ears and cherry limeades on the hottest day in July at the Clark County Fair.
Yeah, it’s that deep.
I did even more smiling and a lil bit of wildin’ that night. As much as I wish I could "Blame it on the Alcohol", I can’t. Gotta blame it on the ribs, the caramel apple suckers, random dancing and good company of GH. He brought dinner and we did the dishes together after—he washed, I dried (=—then we watched Saw V. Nigga thought he was slick; only picked out that movie in hopes that I would get scared, hmph.  lol. After that, I stopped Tweeting [I told GH straight up that I was gon’ be on my laptop all night and he was cool wit’ it thank you kindly. Besides that, I was talking to lil bro and my big sisters Lynn and Jazzy wanted to check up on me.] and the random dancing ensued.
He’s a sweetie y’all…
The Bamma who called me after isn’t so incredibly bad either. He’s for damn sure not sweet—to me at least, we gon’ box one day I promise you—but he’s not as terrible as he could be either. Or is he? I dunno, haven’t decided yet. I just know that that his stupid unnaturally deep voice made me smile…a lot.Ugh. Loser.
ANYWAY, since I’m speakin’ on my just a friend—*rolls eyes and refuses to say what’s really on my mind*—let me get back to the task at hand
iGet TONS more love out there than iDo here in Michigan. Fucked up ryte? SMH
For those of you who are unfamiliar and are special enough to think that I’m sayin’ that I love the Department of Motor Vehicles, let me stop you right gotdang now. Not that DMV slowness, but the  DC/Maryland/Virginia DMV. Home of my lyrical soulmate Wale and my musical boy friend number two Hassani Kwess. Home of the school that I hope and pray I get accepted to next fall, Howard University. Home of a lot of other people, places and things that I love but am far too lazy to name at this moment in time.
‘Ey, at least I’m honest about it.
Now, there is just somethin’ about the whole “urea” [lmao] that gets me; I’m not sure what though. It could be the music…most deffy could be the music, cuz Go-go? Shiiiittt…and the hip hop? Have you heard Wale? Southeast Slim? Kingpen Slim? Magnum Dollars? Ay mi. Y'all should see my mp3 players--I'm ballin' enough to have two. Don't hate--it's like the DMV made me a "Best of" mix...a few of 'em. On my main media device, I have 350 songs by DMV artists. That's 350 out of 1400 songs. I'll let you do the percentage.
Math isn't my thing.
It could be the people and that’s sayin’ somethin’ since y’all already know how Ren feels about people. Theoretical ones over actual ones for life and that’s how it is. How it’s been. How it’s gonna be for a long while known as ever. I’ll wait while your brain deciphers that last sentence. Got it? Gold star for you.
It could specifically be the people of the male persuasion in the DMV. Let me break this down for you:
I ain’t got no problems wit’ dudes out in Cali but, there ain’t nothin’ like a DMV boy
and that’s real.
To specify my specificity—that is an ugly ass word by the way, when I read this out loud it made my mouth work in totally unattractive ways. Ew. Why isn’t there a rule about the ugliness of words? Because if there was we wouldn’t be subjected to words like “specificity”, “nose”, “elbow” or the like. Who do I write to make this happen? Hmm…—the boys out in Maryland? Oh my. Just…gotdamn. If I wasn’t who I am and in the situation that I’m in right now?  Yeah, Ren would do dirty, nasty, unspeakably freaky things to a Maryland boy. And when I say dirty, nasty, unspeakably freaky things, I do indeed mean dirtynastyunspeakablyfreaky—one word—things.
…Don’t go and call Hoe Cop on me either, I’m joking. Goodness.
*coughs and looks left*
Let me pull my mind out the gutter and get back on track.
Basically, Ren loves the DMV and the DMV loves Ren back. Most of the people I talk to on Twitter? Yeah, they’re from the DMV. My brothers Torkalina the Rebelina and Lega-c? Yeah, they’re from the DMV.The guy I sorta kinda almost not really but actually do have a crush on? Yeah, he’s from the DMV. My newest adoptive sister? Yeah, she’s from the DMV.
Matter of fact…I’m the RENegade who’s down wit’ the Rebels.
Don’t know about ‘em? Get familiar.
Who’s the one generating a buzz out in “Murrland”—which is, by the way, their pronunciation, not mine—while subsequently makin’ the niggas out there fiend for the chick from MI? Who reps harder for them than some folks that are actually from the area while still managin’ to hold the Midwest down? Who can’t wait for Christmas 09 to take her light-skinned, rather attractive ass back to DC?
Yeah, that’d be Ren.
So…anything else I wanna say while I’m sittin’ here, eatin’ these Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips and drinkin’ my Hawaiian Punch?
*thinks it over*
Nope, not really…
Oh yeah! I love the DMV and their hip hop scene so much that I’m doing my Cultural Anthropology ethnography—I didn’t lose you with all those syllables did I?—on it so yeah, it’s gon’ be somethin’ special.
And not my usual brand of special either. Well…

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