First things first: it’s 2010 y’all!
If you’re reading this, you too have survived 2009 because I refuse to believe that someone like you has found a way to bend time and space for their own, quite possibly masochistic reasons. Gon’ head and give yourselves a quiet handclap, I’m almost positive that more than a few of y’all have hangovers right now. It’s all good; I understand. There was a more than slight chance that I too was going to be fxcked up when I brought in 2010, but alas, twas not to be.
Not that I didn’t try. Believe me; I did. Not only that, but I had others tryin’ to get me fxcked up as well. I’d had my half full, blue plastic sippy cup—don’t talk shxt, a cup is a cup—in my hand as I was writing the first draft of this when The Bestie came and poured me another glass of whatever the hell we were drinkin’ at the time. Heffa told me that I better write fast because I was about to get fxcked up. Four or five drinks later, it still didn’t happen for me, but since clairvoyance isn’t one of the innumerable things that make me unique and ergo better than you, I scribbled this in my notebook:
I’ll keep this one short.
A few people have asked me if I planned to recap 09’s infamy and my answer is no.
Last April, I lost a part of myself and went mildly insane which explain the lack of posts that month. Almost nine months later, I still find myself dealing with the decisions that were made and the things that were said. I’m not ready to relive the circumstances; I can’t, not yet at least. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through in my entire life and I just…strong as I am, I can’t bring myself to do it.
*coughs and takes a long drink from my cup*
But anyway, I was just writing to say Happy New Year. If you’ll excuse me, I just took a whole glass of…shxt; I dunno, to the head so I’ma proceed to get lit if you don’t mind. Happy New Year y’all, be safe, don’t drink and drive, wrap it up and all that good shxt.
Oh, before I go.
Prospero ano mi bandito. Te amo.
Like I said, a clairvoyant I am not which explains why I wasn’t hung-over in the least when I wrote this addition to the blog this morning:
Hey there revelers, assorted party goers, all out drunks and those who are underage and couldn’t convince someone to buy liquor for them so they kicked it at home wit’ the fam last night. How the heck be ye?
Taking a break from worshipping at The Temple of The Porcelain Goddess to Google hangover remedies? Trying to figure out who the hell “Big Mike” is, why his number is written in Passion Plum lipstick on your chest and why you’re walkin’ funny this morning fellas? Trying to convince your goons and goblin lookin’ gurlies not to upload those embarrassing pix and vids to FaceBook ladies? I assure you, you are not alone.
I’m not doin’ any of that silly shxt, but somewhere out there, beneath the pale, golden sunlight, someone is doin’ the same thing. Sure, dude may have “Lil Tony” on his chest in Fire Engine Red and a chick may be trying to convince her people not to upload the pix to MySpace (although, who checks that site anymore?) but no matter, it’s the same shxt.
As for me and my (infamous) self, the time is now 9:30 in the AM and I’m mad that I’m the only one who’s fully awake and ready to seize the day. I’m not hung-over in the least although The Bestie did her damndest to ensure that I was, topping off my glass when I wasn’t even looking smh. Didn’t matter though, I just know that when I knocked at a quarter past three this morning, I wasn’t even buzzed.
*shrugs and sighs*
I’m bored. I’m hungry as hell and the cheesy enchilada and sour cream Dorito’s I just ate did nothing to placate me or pacify the rumbling in my stomach. I’m mad as a muhfxcka that I retained the ability to conjugate verbs if I so choose after last night. Add that to the dream that I had about Him and the black, secondhand smoke that’s now filling my healthy, pink lungs as my girl’s roommate's sister puffs on a Newport as I silently curse out The Bestie for leaving me stranded in a house full of bxtches—I said it out of luv, shut up—so she could go cake wit’ her boo-thang, I can say that 2010 is off to a frickin’ fantastical start.
*withering side-eye from a hung-over hell where demons flash lights in your eyes and bang on pots and pans like a two year old.*
My mission for the year is to try to update The (Infamous) Life at least once a day, or to at least write something for said blog and prepare for posting when I can finally hook my laptop up to the Internet. The parental is still fakin’ on gettin’ the router fixed and she broke it back in November smh.
While I’m on the subject of November, I’ve decided that I’ll continue to post things for and about Him here instead of relegating them to one of my other blogs. I feel like I have to. Not sure why, but I do.
*shrugs and sighs sadly*
One day down, three hundred and sixty four to go.