My Booty Makes Him Go “Argh!” Like a Pirate

*sigh*

What it is, what it look and/or be like y’all; how ya livin’ and all that other ish that I could and just might say if the spirit moves me.  How have you all been?
Not that I get any feedback from most of y’all

*intergalactic side-eye from the fourth ring of Saturn*

But hey, at mine core I am a very nice individual who can fake and act as though I really care about how y’all are doin’. That’s number 87 on my “Number of Infinite Things That Make Ren Unique Ergo Better Than You’ll Ever Be So Feel Free to Sit There, Hate and Wish That You Were Born This Damn Awesome” list. Number 86 is the fact that I don’t need to rely on makeup like some of y’all females who need to get your faces beat by MAC every morning before you face the world. As for number 88? Yeah…

*giggles maliciously from behind hand*
I got a way wit’ words that has left more than a few people gasping for air and speechless. That’s all you need to know until I feel the need to divulge that particular unique thing to these interwebnets—word to my lil bro who got me sayin’ that ish. Anywho…

[I was jokin' by the way everyone, I do care about y'all. Sheesh.]

I’m mad at some of y’all buttfacedlosertards—one word—for jumping to conclusions about my last post. Why is it that when I take a few minutes out of mine life to sit and be serious for once I’m emo, suicidal or some combination of the two? I’m not all about talkin’ my shit and/or bein’ goofy all the time y’know; I am a multi-faceted individual thank you kindly. Just because I post rather hilarious blogs—this is my opinion at least. You don’t have to agree with me but if you don’t, really, why the eff are you still reading my ish?—and talk my shit about people in said blogs on the reggy doesn’t mean that those will be all that I post.

Ca-frickin’-pishe?

Life is not all about jokes. Nor is life a fairy tale...

Sorry, just wanted to use a quick Fantasia reference to post this pic

…BWAHAHAHA!
Oh, don’t front; you know that ish is funny as eff.

I didn’t just post the pic for the eff of it. Well…not just for that.

*shrugs*

I haven’t posted anything in a while and if you follow and/or stalk my blog *side eye* on the reggy, you know how I write. On my honor I will try my best to keep this blog under 2,000 words. The reason being that unless you’re hella nosy or bored you won’t wanna read all that. I for damn sure don’t wanna write all that. I’m lazy.

Sue me bxtch; at least I admit it.

Moving right the eff along:
Remember a couple of posts back when I talked about my buzz out in Murrland and ever so briefly touched on GH? Yeah…about him. Um, let me put it like this:

His life hath been rated a certified Eff Ay Eye Ell FAIL by yours truly.

GH and I got off to a great, eff it, fantastic start. Dinner that night had been amazing. Dude washed the dishes after bringing me dinner. He randomly danced wit’ me before he went home. GH even brought me back home from my Positive Psychology class because it was raining the following Monday and even brought me breakfast that Tuesday when I posted my blog about Beckaaaayyyy.

The plan was for me to repay the kindness that he had shown me by bringing me the ribs that I proceeded to slay, smash and kill the night that I had gotten my braces taken off by making him a home cooked meal.

A few things…

1) I love to cook, by like a lot but do I like to cook for other people? Yeah…no; not so much.

2) I cooked from scratch for this muddasucka. Say that ish out loud and let it marinate in your spirit. Scratch. Do you know how long cooking from scratch takes? Yung; that’s like some junior housewife in training type ish!

3) When I saw this fool earlier that day, he said that he was gonna come over early.

4) Dinner was scheduled for for around 5 so early would’ve been any time before then.

5) “Early” turned out to be not at all as this nigga never showed the eff up.

At all y’all.

He didn’t show up at all.

At 6:00 I said a loud “fuck it”, gathered up the steaks—which weren’t cheap by the effing way—and the rest of the food that I slaved over a hot stove to make and gave it to my neighbor who deffy wasn’t expecting a home-cooked meal that night. After dropping off the—home-effing-made—ice cream. I went back into Chez Ren to wait by the phone and Tweet away my frustrations.

I waited for the rest of the night for some sort of contact from this punkbumbuster [one word].

Nothin’.

At.

All.

No call on Monday.

No page on Tuesday.

No email on Wednesday.

No instant message on Thursday.

No smoke signal on Friday.

No telegraph on Saturday.

And when I bumped into this…person on Sunday he didn’t say SHXT to me. Not nary a damn word that popped outta that muddasucka’s mouth was aimed at Ren.

Not.

Nary.

A.

One.

[>_<]

He couldn’t say shxt when he saw me but did that stop him from callin’ me at 1:30 in the AM tryin’ to talk like I don’t have a gotdang 10 AM class? Nope; sho’ didn’t.

Then he showed up on my doorstep Monday morning before I left for class and if I keep on talkin’ about this nigga I’m gonna get all types of aggy and I will be “Goin’ Up Yonder” with “Amazing Grace” on that ass and yes, that’ll be with a hymn book.

I'm crazy enough to do it to. Don't play wit' me

So enough about him.

*aggravated sigh as I roll my eyes, suck my teeth and crack my knuckles*

So many things I could speak on, so little time as I’ve gone over 1,000 words and don’t wanna be sittin’ here all gotdang night so, what to do, what to do.

Do I wanna touch on—why did my mind just go all sorts of totally inappropriate places with that?—The Bamma?

Oh yes, yes I do, but in a few totally inappropriate ways that I’m not about to discuss via my blog. I will not be the subject of a post by Hoe Cop, y’all got me twisted, flipped, sideways—again, my mind just went somewhere bad. Grrr.—and all around effed up.

All I have to say about him right now is that my booty makes him go:
*hooked finger*

“Arrrrgghhhhhhh me hearties, I wanna swab that poop deck”

just like a pirate.

Ask him.

…LMFAOOOOOOO

I wanna say that I can’t believe that I said that but then again, I’m Ren and that my friends would be a lie.

Um, to steer this ship into less dangerous waters, what else could I talk about?

Um, my lil bro siced my whole entire life by givin’ me the sweetest shout out on his mixtape but I don’t wanna talk about the sicing of mine life until I get my copy of the tape to review it.

I could talk all these whack artists from Twitter and MySpace that send me their tracks and beats like I’m in the music biz and can get them a damn deal and lets not forget like I care.

I could also talk about my dislike for church folx—NOT Christians—and how I’m deffy not stuntin’ our bishop but that would leave me sitting here typing away for hours and I would like to catch up on some unneeded beauty sleep a little later on if ya catch mine drift.

There’s a lot of other ish that I could talk about but guess what? I don’t feel like it. I’m lazy, so, I’ma leave y’all wit’ these last few things:
The devil don’t like you and neither do I

[I said it. And?]

And this picture because it amuses the hell outta me and I don’t care if you like it or not.

And on that note, I’ll try to post somethin’ else this week.

Me promise.

*crosses fingers behind back*

lol, jp.

♥