The (Infamous) Life

(Belated)

2011-09-30T12:35:00.000-04:00

So my birthday was in August, right?
Yeah. The big, “Oh, shit! I’m inching closer and closer to twenty five…which is almost thirty. How the hell did that happen? What have I done with my life? What is that annoying ass ticking sound I keep hea—is that my fucking biological clock? Laaaaaawwwdddddd; I ‘on wanna be old!” twenty two.
Once the initial shock of realizing that I’m growing older at what must be a non-linear—not to mention exceedingly annoying—rate, I decided I wanted to do something special to celebrate. But I didn’t know what to do.
I was thinking about doing something “deep” and “meaningful” to show how much I’ve “matured” with age. Y’know, because I’m known for being “shallow”, “nonsensical” and “immature”?
Yeah, no. I tossed that idea out really quick.
After that, I thought about doing a letter to my future self from my then present self so that when Future Ren read it, she’d (I’d?) be reading Past Ren’s thoughts. The meaningfully deep levels present had the potential to reach an annoyingly pretentious high, so before I could make my future self hate m then current, now past self, I decided to scrap the idea and push it along like ATCQ.
After a host of other terrible ideas, some of which are too terrible to even mention, I finally decided to shoot a birthday video…which I never actually finished. Or really even began for that matter. I quickly discovered that I have this weird verbal diarrhea meets ADHD thing goin’ on which is no good. Besides that, have you seen my skin? Horrible. I look like the “before” portion of a Proactiv ad, smh.
I ended up not doing anything. Which sucks. I didn’t post anything on my much more important and much less scarring (unless you happened to be my liver that night) twenty-first birthday and I completely ignored my second Bloggiversary back in February.
…But that wasn’t the point of this.
My birthday was suppose to be my relaunch date.
This, The (Infamous) Life, was something I started for me. Hell, it's still is for me. But lately, I've slipped and slacked off in the worst way. And I know that I've said this in the past, but that won't be happening again. I mean it this time.
So, with all of that said?
I’m officially back on my shit.

…Can I talk my shit again?

2011-06-13T17:01:00.001-04:00

So I'm cleaning my room, right? Well, that's what I told people I've been doing at any rate. I've actually been enjoying a bit of Me time locked away here in my admittedly messy ass inner sanctum. Y'know, catching up on my much needed beauty sleep^[¹^]and sorting my nail polish collection and things of that nature. The finer things in life if you will.
That is, however, until I got bored enough to hijack Egg’s laptop and logged onto Aintshit Social Network # 3:
Tagged.com.
For the people out there that’re blissfully unaware, Tagged is a bit like MySpace meets Black Planet in terms of ratchet nutfuckery. It’s the type of site that makes you wish you could give yourself a real life virus scan in terms of general skeeviness. In short: it’s an awesomely bad place to hang out when you’re bored and it’s filled with the sorts of things that’ll make you love and loathe the Internet.Okay, mostly loathe it, but still. I can’t call it all bad. There’re actually quite a few decent people on there. Quite a lot of thirsty gentlemen in search of a good quenching, but hey, that’s the Internet for ya. If my DM inbox on Twitter could talk…
So there I was, lounging on my bed, listening to Gemineye’s “Penny for your Thoughts” on YouTube when I looked at my notifications and noticed that I had new messages. I clicked the link hoping that someone that I could actually stand had written me a message and let loose a string of curses that would’ve made the proverbial sailor blush when I found out who it was.
You see, for the past day and a half or so, this fool has been harassing me. At first, I thought it was funny in a pathetic sort of way, but now…
Not so much, no.
Dude has sent me a ton of messages—upwards of two and three at one time, smfh—and trying to get the exact order of things down has me confused, but here’s the latest round of What the Fuckness that he’s been sending me,
(Read from the bottom up; you know the deal)

Noticing that I changed my name to “Kyrie Eleison”, he sent a separate message asking if this is in fact my real name

By now, as I’m sure you understand, I was losing my cool, so when he sent me this

I decided to reply with

Which somehow turned into this
(You may have to click to enlarge these last few messages)

To which I replied

And he fired back with

I have no intention of responding by the way. I’m not too big a fan of being sexually harassed online.
I think the moral of today’s story is that the Internet can be a wonderful place full of many joys and wonders, boys and girls. But, if you happen to be me, it’s usually like the club on those rare occasions that I decide to go: full of horny, crazy old bastards.
Anyway doe.
If you’re one of the few people that’s been wonderin’ why I haven’t posted on here—I know, it shocked me to find out that people actually cared, too—you can find me sporadically posting over at The (Infamous) Life: V. 2.4.
Kbye.
♥

^{1 if you’ve seen me recently (…or at all) you would understand what I’m saying here is the absolute truth.}

Guess Who’s Bizzack?

2011-04-28T14:32:00.001-04:00

If I wasn’t convinced that a wild Stan would appear on some Pokemon Diamond shit, I’d channel Pay-Pal’s supposed number one seller <Kanye voice>of all time!</Kanye voice> and hip-hop’s poster child for fellatio, lace front wigs, ~~self hate~~ botched plastic surgery and colored contacts by saying “I’ve been gone for a minute but I’m back wit’ the jumpoff”, but…y’know. I don’t have the time, energy or the very patience necessary to battle someone who plans on extolling the virtues of Ms. Kimberly Jones because she can make a Sprite can disappear in her mouth and because Hardcore use to be the shit back when I was in first grade[1], and I really can’t be bothered to be inadvertently dragged into that whole Nicki v. Kim thing right now. Beside all that, I’m fresh out of Master Balls. Not that I’d want to capture a wild Stan or anything, but eff it. I think someone out there knows what I’m trying to say. Maybe.
Anyway doe.
Shady bullshit in the introductory paragraph aside, it has been a minute since I’ve posted anything on here or my alternate blog of choice. Not that I’m about to apologize or anything like that. I’m sure that nobody, myself included, cares much or at all, so I’d just be wasting my breath and my keystrokes, but I’ve been busy-ish goin’ through some stuff lately. Nothing bad or even particularly good, just a lot of annoying and necessary, supposedly grown up, things.
During the first four months of the year, I lost a lot and, in exchange, I gained a lot of knowledge and insight. I learned a lot about people, things and situations and I’ve had to make a few not so minor adjustments to this (infamous) thing I call my life. I cut out a lot of shit and quite a few folks and now? Now I’m focusing on who and what matters most to me while chunkin’ the deuce to everything and everyone who never did.
…Ugh. That paragraph sounds like some of the empowering drivel designed to keep women single, lonely and bitter as hell for the rest of their lives, smh. Forgive me; it’s not even like that. I’d elaborate but…
I don’t wanna.
*shrugs*
lol.
Here’s to days filled with more consistent infamy.

♥

1 1996 was a long time ago…dammit, now I feel old.

How (NOT!) to Sell Dreams to an Insomniac

2011-01-31T16:20:00.001-05:00

Please, don’t play yourself like this sirs and/or madams. Just don’t.
I’m too lazy to cut, copy and paste this in the correct order, so read from the bottom up. You know the drill.

I’m going to be uncharacteristically nice and withhold my commentary on this “Block” fool, his annoying use of the Caps Lock key and that whole “Winkin’ at you” thing, throw up my first Track of the Day for 2011 and be out.
So…you know I had to pick
"Po Pimp"
by Do or Die featuring Twista, right?

lol

♥

Midol Wishes and NyQuil Dreams

2011-01-25T15:39:00.000-05:00

My name is LauRen and I am an insomniac.^[1]
Wait, let me rephrase that: My name is LauRen and I’m a sleep deprived, caffeine fueled zombie on days that end in “y”.
I crave sleep—lust after over? Discuss it even. I fantasize about sleep the same way the lonely and sexually repressed fantasize about pussy and peen on the tragically pathetic “#TwitterAfterDark”. I think I lose sleep to daydream about it.
Yeah, it’s that deep.
All that being said, I’m lucky if I get more than three hours of it at any given time. In fact, the only times that I get the doctor recommended seven to eight hours of shut eye are those nights when I’m more or less heavily medicated, and oh, what blissfully amazing sleep it is.
Last week while my uterus was double dutching with my fallopian tubes, I came down with a cold-flu type bug from one of my students that had me coughing up my mucus filled lungs and generally fucked up. I tried to work through it, but when my temperature spiked at 102.3, I said “this shit is for the birds,” reached for my Midol and two NyQuil liqui-gels and called it a night. Within twenty minutes of downing my improvised drug cocktail, I was knocked the eff out.
Now, I don’t know what’s in Midol Complete or NyQuil and no, I don’t care as long as they both continue to make my cramps and fever disappear, but I think that somehow the drugs merged, teaming up for mild pain relief and to hijack my resulting drug induced dream.
‘Ey, gon’ head and laugh if you want to; it’s the only semi-logical explanation I have as to why My Voldermort^[2] was harassing me during my well deserved slumber.
The dream opened with MV and I cuddling ^[3] in my spare bedroom. He had been making fun of me my collection of Care Bears and Beanie Babies when I threatened to punch him in the neck if he didn’t ess-tea-eff-you.
“Really, Ren,” he said plucking Proud Heart Cat from the bookcase that doubles as my headboard. “You’re how old? Do I need to see ID?”
”It was a gift; shuddup. Keep talkin’ that nonsense and the only thing you’ll see is my fist in yo’ face when I punch you in it. Nicca.”
Brushing off my very real threat of violence, MV laughed, said something about my “violent ass” and tossed PHC in the air, making my poor Care Bear Cousin somersault in midair. I still haven’t quite figure it out, but I somehow managed to snatch the stuffed animal out of the air, throw it across the room and deliver a right cross to his left cheek while planting a kiss on the opposite.
“You’re pretty much an assface, just thought I’d let you know.”
“And you’re an asshole. I still [redacted]^[4] you though.”
"Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” I replied as I stretched and got out of bed. “I’ll be back,” I said over my shoulder as I walked out of my room…
And into Nana’s bathroom. Yeah. I know.
This is where things get hazy and since it’s almost time for my Skype tutoring session, I’ll have to cut this short, but what followed was a veritable odyssey of random weirdness. There was a cyber versus steampunk showdown that had no clear winner; a killer sale on Zoya nail polish; a series of unfortunate but hilariously effed up events had Tia show up out of nowhere, get hit by parked car and an ambulance and I do believe there was a bake sale, too.
Random, right?
♥

^{1 If this were a meeting of Insomniacs Anonymous, this would be the part where a group of sleep deprived people stifle a yawn and say “Hi, LauRen,” then we would all discuss our misadventures in Insomnia and finish the meeting with stale coffee and even staler Krispy Kreme donuts. I think. Pretty sure I’m right.
2 It’s been well over a week since this happened and I’m still mad that He Who Shall Be Punched in the Face had the audacity to pop his half nekkid ass nekkid ass up in my dream.
Up until last week, I hadn’t heard from My Voldermort since NYE when he sent me a “Happy New Year, love” txt. The three txts that I sent in the weeks following? Yeah, those were all ignored. He must’ve been feeling guilty about his complete and utter lack of communication because he thought I was saying “Fuck Q” instead of “Fuh Q” when I posted a link in my status on YIM. He popped out of nowhere and hit me wit’ some damn, “Fuck me? Wow” and went ghost before I could correct his rather egregious error.
…And he wonders why I doubt that he’ll be coming out here to visit next month. Ugh =/}

^{3 I’m going to assume this all occurred precoital because there was no cigarette smoke in the air or an ashtray in sight. Take that as you will.
4 We all know what the removed word is, I just felt like being difficult.}

Zero-Three:Forty-Nine.

2011-01-24T01:05:00.000-05:00

It’s dang near four in the AM^[1] and guess who’s not just getting in from a a night of fun filled, booze driven debauchery and general fuckery? Yerp; that’d be me.
Not that I could’ve gone out even if I wanted to. My funds are currently set on “Bish, you’re broke, fuck you think you’re goin’?” and my sick aye-ess-ess is laid up in bed with my ferocious beast, a box of Kleenex and a woefully drippy nose. Beside that, I don’t commit random acts of drunkenness on Sunday nights. Maybe it’s just paranoia from spending all my life in church, but I always feel like God is watching me especially hard and the fact that I felt a heavenly, “Yeah, I’m judging you right now,” side-eye being thrown at me as I drank (ate? Discuss) a jello-shot the one time I chose to get drunk on a Monday night/Tuesday morning^[2] almost made me want to give up drinking …then Tia ordered me a Margarita.
Which I drank. And it was delicious.
Judge me.
I have to be up and at ‘em to spend another exciting day tutoring and searching for a job in less than three hours, so, here’s to that.
G’night.
♥

^{1 Although lawd knows if and when this’ll get typed up and posted. I’ll be gotdanged if I get on my laptop to do anything other than watch a porno at dang near four in the morning.
Not that I, y’know, watch por…eff it, I stand by my statement.

2 A couple of weeks ago, The Bestie took me for drinks after The Egg Donor decided to subject me to yet another of her damn near daily screaming tirades about absolutely nothing at all. Being the dependable drunkie that she is, Tia took me to a bar where a huge Long Island Iced Tea, a couple of jello-shots, one and a half Margaritas and three drunken games of pool—all of which I won but only because Tia’s drunkish ass sunk the 8 ball early in every game—turned my scowly frowny face upside down. It also made me wanna strip down to my boyshorts and play in the snow, but that’s another story.}

Fuh Q

2011-01-20T16:12:00.001-05:00

Whoever raided and subsequently devoured my entire stash of chocolate is gonna get kicked in the eye and punched in their reproductive organs. Just gon’ take my ish and then go about their business like everything is everything. Psh, no.
Bastid(s).
Ugh. I’ve been more or less out of it, suffering from the annoyingly painful, semi-monthly effects of my period ¹, all week, smh. I’ve been moodier than usual, annoyed by everything and everyone, bloated like a muhfucka and prone to insanely random, utterly nonsensical crying jags.
The other day, I was listening to music and ~~beating my high score on Bejeweled 3~~ filling out job applications online when I burst into tears for no effing reason.
I mean, don’t get me wrong or anything, a new job ² would rather amazing, I can’t eem lie, but I assure you, it’s not somethin’ that I would typically cry over. The music I was listening to at the time ³ couldn't have possibly triggered my random ass crying.
And these weren’t pretty, Miss Universe accepting her crown and superficial fame. Nope. These were screw-face, eyes all red, it hurts to breathe, bawlin’ like a bitch tears, smh.
Fuck kinda hyper hormonal shit is that?
♥

^{1 or, as it’s affectionately known here in Chez Ren: “That week where I’m all, ‘Damn you to Hell and back for this shit, Eve! Didn’t nobody tell yo’ ass to eat the fruit from the tree, heffa! Where' the hell is my Midol, gotdammit?!’”. This is a very stressful time for me and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t judge me for my lack of eloquence, please and thank you.}

^{2 If I have to spend another semester tutoring and correcting, properly citing and typing papers for college students, I’ll go crazier than I already am. It’s bad enough that my methods of teaching my Psych students the difference(s) between negative and positive reinforcement include conducting mini-experiments where I reward them with fresh baked cookies and/or punish them by throwing things at them for wrong answers. Don’t judge me; I get results. Dammit.
3 “Real Nigga Roll Call” inspires me to do a lot of things—buss a couple heads; knuck cuz gotdammit, I’m buck and shake my imaginary dreads chief among them—but crying like I just found out Santa isn’t real and that Ray-Ray has been fuckin’ that ho Sharquinetta and I had to find out from that skanky sloppy slorebucket Eggplant Peaches after she called me to borrow money again isn’t one of them.}

Confessions of a CATA Commuter

2011-01-14T15:42:00.000-05:00

I feel as though I'm spending way too much time here at the bus station.
Just this week, I've witnessed a gaggle of bird brained, basic bitches almost come to blows over lawd knows what and tried to figure out how in the hell the old man sitting next to me wet his Depends and managed to smell like caramelized onions and apple cider vinegar with a hint of lemongrass. Who has gourmet urine? Ugh... I also feel as though I'm about to smack this ol' no eyebrow havin', nekkid mole rat lookin' bitch for lookin' at me like I'm the one who made her ugly. She better check her parents before she throws another side eye at me. I'll smack her wit' a tube of Carmex and a bottle of Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion and leave her doin' the "Naked Mole Rap." Eff she thought this was?!
But I digress.
So anyway, I'm sure that by now you've noticed that I've slacked off and loafed by neglecting my baby, The (Infamous) Life, and, to a lesser extent, the randoms who stop by or stalk it. Ooops, my bad, many apologies and all that. I'd excuse myself by saying, "I've been busy," but I don't feel like it. Which isn't to say I haven't been busy or whatever because I have been, I've just been letting life stand in the way of most things (infamous) which, unfortunately, includes this here blog of mine.
Before you roll your eyes, mutter "nobody cares, b" and hit CTRL + W to close the tab, finish reading, I promise to keep this one short...er than a lot of my old posts. Walk wit' me for a minute.
During the latter portion of the year, things here in the Wonderful Realm of Ren turned painfully reckless in the most literal of senses. I was this close to committing patricide with a Wiimote long story; don't ask after Christmas dinner at Nana's and I found out that a really good friend of mine passed away after I got a friend request from "him" on Facebook. Things at home have gotten...lawd, this shit just a mess. Fights on the daily, raised voices, thrown shoes, slammed doors and stony silences just scream "home sweet home," right? And then, of course, there's this whole non-situation with He Who Must Not be Named...yeah, that nigga.
There's so much to say on this shit that I wouldn't even know where to begin so guess what? I won't. I'll just say that I'm preparing myself for when next month falls through--as it inevitably will--shake my head, curse my relentlessly rotten luck, keep it pushin' and hop my ass on the bus.
Here's to another year filled with inconsistent infamy, y'all.
♥

Welp.

2010-12-17T04:19:00.000-05:00

I was gonna do the figurative and literal “right thing” as far as keeping my mouth shut goes, but then I chipped my manicure and the fact that Sally Hansen stuck me for $6.36 worth of my dwindling paper for a damn “10 Day: No Chip Nail Color” topcoat that lasted for three and a half days reminded me of why I’ve been irritated lately, so we’ll see about that “right thing”. No Spike Lee. Not only that, but when I woke up a little while ago, I noticed that one of my nails had up and disappeared like ~~Naomi Campbell’s edges~~ socks and draws. Dammit. Why won’t they let my manicure be great, yo?
Bastards.
So anyway, here I am. It’s 0325 and I’m sprawled across my bed, unable to go back to sleep with iLLVibes’ “I love Hip-Hop vol. 1” podcast blaring through the speakers of my Ghetto Blaster Tote from Karmaloop and…I totally just forgot what I was about to say. Eff this. I’m going back to sleep.

Meh…

2010-12-15T13:05:00.001-05:00

I hate it when ~~saints~~ people use prayer as a saved, sanctified and filled with the Holy Ghost way of cursing at or threatening others. Hardly anything irritates me more about today’s “Christians” in fact.

Well, there’s that whole crusade against homosexuality, but I’m choosing not to speak on that for the time being. I might find myself excommunicated from the Church of God in Christ and I personally do not want to spend an entire day in church with the Baptists.

They do have a tendency to make it to the buffet before the Methodists though…

There is unspeakable power in prayer and I seriously doubt that the Lord, our God appreciates you abusing that power by telling someone that you’ll pray for them when what you really mean is “Bitch, shut yo’ ass all the way up before I Spartan-kick yo’ ass down a flight of steps!”

Yeah. Pretty sure He frowns upon that. I dunno; I could be wrong.

*shrugs*

“Look at your life; look at your choices”

2010-12-13T14:46:00.003-05:00

Seems like every other week, I find out one of my friends or casual acquaintances is pregnant, getting married or both. I’m not judging. And really, I’m happy for ‘em, I am. Sure, Nana is starting to resent the fact that, at 21, I’m not married and have yet to give her any great grandchildren, but, that’s a grip for another time; back to the topic at hand.
Now, for every couple that’s engaged, married and/or pregnant for the right reasons—I deserve a cookie for for choosing to take the high road and not make a broken condom joke. Chocolate chip, please and thank you—there’s at least one simple ass person that thinks getting married or having a child is going to fix whatever’s wrong in their relationship. Giiiiirrrrrrlllllllll…
*sigh*
I’ve tried and failed to understand this shit. I mean, really. The pseudo-solutions that these ~~dumbasses~~ geniuses have come up with are going to lead to more complications, nonsense, drama and bullshit later on down the line.
Example:
If your girl is a self-centered, whiny, childish ass bitch with a flair for the dramatic and a gold medal in homie hoppin’, what makes you think that getting married is going to make the fact that three of your boys can tell you what that mouth be like okay? Cuz it won’t. Basically, all you’ve done is make her a married self-centered, whiny, childish ass bitch with a flair for the dramatic who’s smashin’ the homies on some Danger shit whenever you aren’t around.
And ladies…what makes you think for a second that having a child on some “let me trap this nigga, that’s the way to make things right” ish is the right thing to do?! Really? You think that bringing an innocent life into the world is going to suddenly make dude straighten up and fly right and stop doin’ whatever it is he’s doin’ that you have an issue with?
Girl, boo.
There’s a good to better than great chance that the only things that are going to happen* are he’ll deny the child, y’all will end up on Maury and when it comes out that little Jamaquandrell Jr. is indeed his son, dude will resent the hell out of you. Not only that, but he’ll probably end up duckin’ and dodgin’ you and your cousins to avoid paying child support for the next 18 years.
Tell me:
Do you honestly want that for yourself?

*results are typical in a world with crappy Daytime TV

Nil Nisi Malis Terrori

2010-12-13T14:46:00.001-05:00

“No, I ain’t bitter; I don’t give a fuck, but, I’ma tell you like this…”

As of right now, I’m still completely and really rather removed from the state of mind known as “in the mood”. So, to commemorate this momentous and wonderfully effed up occasion, I’m gonna take this time to get some ish off my chest. Y’know, address a few of the things that have been on my mind and nerves as of late…and maybe type up a few of the blogs I never got around to posting.
I, myself, don’t know exactly what I’m about to say. I haven’t thought that far in advance yet. So, as a bit of fair warning, there’s a chance that I’ll say some things that you don’t or won’t agree with. Some things that those of you with an overly inflated sense of self-importance may take to be a personal attack on you and your character or some asinine shit like that. A very real chance.
No VH1.
Any other day, I’d ~~act like I care and~~ apologize for what you mistakenly took to be subliminal shots being popped in your general direction while you were rooted firmly in your feelings, but, y’know what that mysterious collective of individuals known only as “they” say:
“If somethin’ hits too close to home, move.”
Honestly, I’m not looking for confrontation, so, if you’re feelin’ some type-a-way about the potentially broad, far reaching and general ass statements in the following entries, it’s strongly suggested that you confront whatever’s in you that’s responsible for making that particular type-a-way before you come at me. I don’t have the time, patience or the very will necessary to deal wit’ yo’ ass.
So, I won’t.
♥

Furor Scribendi

2010-12-10T13:44:00.001-05:00

This probably won’t come as a shock to many of y’all, but I’m so far removed from “in the mood” right now. So. Effin’. Far.
As a matter of fact, I’m about ready to locate and choke the stuffing out of a Care Bear Cousin or two, but ya know what? While sickeningly appealing, the thought of wrapping my recently manicured hands around Brave Heart Lion’s neck and squeezing until his little plastic eyes pop off and his fluffy white brains come oozing out of his ears isn’t going to change anything. Dammit.
I’m just…I’m so…ugh right now.
My annoyance and current frustrations would be best expressed by the sounds of groans, screams and the splintering, cracking crunch that piece of plywood made as I kicked hole after hole into it. I don’t even have printable words for this shitstorm of malarkey, smh.
See, right now? I’m at a point where I want nothing more than to grab the boxcutter I keep under my pillow, the baseball bat I have stashed under my bed and the tubesock with a rock in it that I have hidden away in my drawer and go about rearranging someone’s facial landscape. But I won’t. I want to—you have no freakin’ clue how much I want to, but the fact remains that it won’t be happening. Not today at least. Maybe.
I may just have the Devil’s temper and one hell of a flair for violence and improvised weaponry, but at the same time, I still possess a bit of the good sense that the good Lord blessed me with. Besides that…
I’m too cute for jail.
♥

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmahanakwanza

2010-12-01T13:53:00.001-05:00

It’s that time of year again, folks.
The Salvation Army has the elderly hanging around your favorite Wal*Mart with their little bells just a ring-a-ling-lingalin’ as they freeze their geriatric butts off in the name of your spare change. Cheapskate boyfriends are planning to breakup with their girlfriends to avoid buying a Christmas present or just to kick it with a no morals ho-ho-ho. All around the country, children are writing letters to Santa Claus and praying the “Please, please, pleeaaassseeee let there be a snow day” prayer before falling asleep nightly as their parents look for better hiding places for the presents they maxed out their credit cards buying.
Yerp. The holidays are ~~about to anally rape us again. Where’s the peppermint stick lube?~~ upon us again, so you know what that means.
Snow! The ~~horrible~~ annual Christmas play at church! Snow! Racist, homophobic, ratchet ass Rudolph the Niggafied Reideer! Snow! Christmas carols!
…Did I forget to mention the snow?
This morning when I woke up—which, thankfully wasn’t as traumatic or painful as yesterday—I was told that Boogie had a snow day and that I would have to get out of my warm, comfortable bed to shovel the accursed snow. Which, by the way, was a lie. Yes, it snowed, but only a little bit. However, we do have to remember that I live in Michigan—we’re shaped like a frickin’ mitten, for Santa’s sake—and our bipolar weather is apt to change in the blink of an eye. Eh…
At any rate, Caramel Macchiato will be ready for her yearly showdown with that jive turkey, The White Devil soon. Now to find a decent pair of gloves.
Shazaam.
♥

Fortes in Fide...(?)

2010-11-03T12:52:00.000-04:00

So, yeah. I loafed. As in…majorly. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure if you can classify this as “beyond major loafage” since I’ve—for lack of a better word—loafed so badly. Or would that be “poorly”? Whateva; you know what I mean.
I’ve been meaning to update The (Infamous) Life for the longest, but, as I already stated, I’ve loafed in a most horrendously egregious and beyond major fashion. It’s just that I’ve been so busy tryin’ to be so many things to so many people that I kinda forgot to take some time out for lil ole (infamous) me. Which is more than understandable given the situation(s) that I’ve gotten myself into. Not that, y’know, I’m complaining or anything like that. Because I’m not.
…Walk wit’ me for a minute here.
Right now, I’m tryin’ to keep the all inclusive “it” together for myself and everyone else while everything around me is literally and figuratively falling apart. Not only that, but I’m trying to metaphorically light the path for a weary traveler, but the way is littered with obstacles, darkness is quickly closing in and I’m starting to wonder if my metaphoric light will be enough to bring them home.
This has all been added onto my existing duties—shoulder to cry on, plotter of ingenious, possibly illegal revenge schemes, etc—as la señora de (infamia), mind you. Sounds like super fun times are ensuing here in the Wonderful Realm of Ren, right?
Yeah…not so much, no.
I have faith—Lord knows I have faith—that everything is gonna work out. I do. Because I know that faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1) and that without faith it’s impossible to please God (11:6). And I’m also quite aware of the fact that faith without works is dead (James 2:17) so I’m workin’. I am. But it’s like…how do I walk and live by faith and not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7) when all I see are the many impossibilities and improbabilities of the current situation(s)?
And yeah, okay. I’m sure that whole “good things happen to those who wait” thing applies, but what do you do when it feels like all you’re doing is waiting for that quote unquote “good” to happen?
Again: I’m not complaining and no, this isn’t a pity party so I’m not asking you to be my plus one see what I did right there? It’s just…even I have my doubts sometimes. Which sucks because it makes it seem like I’m doubting God and I’m not…right? I don’t think I am at any rate. Doesn’t feel like it. Not really.
But anyway, that’s just what I’ve been up to lately. The tip of the figurative iceberg that threatens to sink the SS (Infamy) if you will.
Kinda makes ya girl wonder if there are enough lifeboats onboard…
Figuratively of course.
♥

It’s Been a Long Time…Here’s Why I Left You

2010-09-17T12:58:00.001-04:00

I’ve been tryin’ to come up with something relevant, irreverent and sufficiently sarcastic to open this post with, but I’m drawing a ridiculously large blank as I jot these words down on my mini Top Flight legal pad.
Now, y’all should know me by now. I am the reigning Queen of Sarcasm, able to serve subtle if I so choose shade with the best of ‘em, yet here I am. Wielding my mechanical pencil as my scepter, I’ve tried to command the words to come forth and do my queenly bidding, but my subjects have proved to be disloyal as they continue to revolt. The only thing that I’ve managed to bring on is a royal headache.
Bleh.
So anyway, I’m sure that by now my handful of readers and lurkers I see you, Gemayel have noticed the appalling lack of posts here on The (Infamous) Life. As much as it would amuse me—and it would so amuse me—to hit y’all with a rather extravagant “See…what had happened was, um” ~~lie~~ story there would’ve been a spelunking midget, a seventh son of a seventh son and a spelling bee, the truth of the matter is I’m far too lazy to do all that. So, you get the truth.
Exciting prospect, innit?
As of late, I’ve been…blocked. Not just where my writing is concerned although yeah, there’s that too, but it’s deeper than that.
Have you ever been involved in a situation or gone through something that left you struggling to figure out how to deal with its aftermath? Ever thought that you were completely over said situation when randomly and completely out of the blue, somethin’ hits you and makes you realize that you aren’t over it? That whatever it is that you’ve been doing is just your way of avoiding the issue?
That was me. Kind of.
There wasn’t just one specific thing that happened with me; there was a bunch of shit that was and still is going wrong, and my way of coping with the multitude of losses and the straight up fuckery was to not deal with it. Distract myself from my various situations and whatnot.
Me? I’d much rather invest my time and energy into something that I know won’t work instead of thinking about something that failed in the past so I can feel some sort of perverse pleasure in knowing that I was right. So, that’s what I did.
‘Ey. I never said it made sense.
That was then, though. I can’t keep this shit up anymore. I’m behind on several deadlines—self imposed and otherwise—and I have a sneaking suspicion that this whole avoidance thing has been fueling my rather annoying case of insomnia. Tis a rare occurrence for me to get to sleep before 0400 and I’m lucky if I get more than three hours of it at any given time. Yay, Ren.
So, uh…yeah.
It’s been great, finally updating my blog and all that, but I have to take advantage of this non-writer’s blocked moment and put in some Goode work, so now it’s time to say goodybye
*rub-rub-rub-snap-clap*
Yeah, I took it there.
♥

“Now if you love her…then tell me what kind of love this is?”

2010-08-09T20:01:00.001-04:00

“Temptation’s pimpin’ us both so, who’s the weaker one?”

Ah yes, the age old, tiresome and rather annoying debate: why do men cheat?
I have my own thoughts on the subject and I could sit here at my laptop for hours on end, typing up a double spaced, 12 point Times New Roman font, thousand plus word essay that would either have you thinking I’m bitter, wise beyond my almost 21 years and/or crazy, but guess what? I don’t have the time for all that so we’re not gonna go there. Not now. Maybe one day though.
Maybe.
Peep the screen shots below.

notice how I try to be semi-nice and I get told to hush in the end. Ugh. Niggas.

We’re a mess lol.
Now, from my unfortunately considerable experience, men and women, I can’t leave y’all out even though I’ve never dealt with y’all on a romantic level and have no intention of doing so will cheat for any matter of reasons, but I’ve ~~drawn my own~~ come to the conclusion that most do it because, like it or not and I honestly don’t have the patience to care if you like it, they can. There doesn’t have to be a deep psychological reason behind it, although that’s not to say that there won’t be one, but that’s it. People cheat because they can.

Doesn’t matter if you’re in a committed, loving relationship with someone or not, if you make up in your mind that you want to cheat? Then you’ll cheat.
Simple as that.
See what I said about people thinkin’ that I’m “bitter”? *sigh* Whateva.
♥

Eff You Sea Kay Why Oh You Friday

2010-07-02T18:25:00.001-04:00

“And a fanga in the middle’s what I leave ‘em wit’…”

You ever notice that when you’re not in the mood for, oh, let’s say…nonsense, drama and bullshxt, some inevitably finds you? And it doesn’t just find you, naw, hell naw. N. D. and BS will stalk you through yo’ respective hood, pay niggas to inform them of your every move and good mood, then one day, when you least expect it, they’ll roll up real slow like, right?
You’re standin’ outside on your porch, goin’ through your mail before turning to walk back inside when these muhfxckas roll up fast on two ten speeds BS is riding on D’s handlebars, grab you by the hair then figuratively fxck you up the ass. Raw. And with no lube.
Oh…so I’m the only one who’s ever been figuratively gang-raped in this bxtch then, huh?
*side eye*
Every last one of my weekend plans just fell through, this random and completely unwanted bout of sadness just came over me and I’ve got two separate assholes on my mind for very different, yet ironically the same reasons, so here’s what I have to say:
Fuck it.
That’s it. Nothing more; nothing less, just fuck it all.
If you’ll excuse me, I have to try to go and salvage my weekend. So uh…yeah.
♥

I Wanna Thank My…

2010-06-27T11:56:00.000-04:00

“Shout out to the sound-booth!”

So I’m sittin’ here in service, listenin’ to the recent graduates thank God, their momma, their hood waddup, Detroit? Southside! and their first grade teacher’s next door neighbors’ dog Spot and everyone in between, right? Yeah…the word bored doesn’t come close to describing how I feel at this current moment in time. I’m so thoroughly uninterested in the goings on that I’m counting wigs and weaves in the congregation.
So far I’ve got six phony-ponies, four wigs and seven weaves, one of which has tracks peaking out and throwin’ up gang signs like “Eff yo’ set, Sewn In’s run this thang, nicca!”
Jesus be a hot comb and better quality weave. Skip the synthetic, go human, hun.
Aight, let me leave Sister Sew-n-Sew alone. I heard it was supposed to storm later on and I don’t need to do anything else to tempt God to toss a lightning bolt my way.
♥

“We fallen angels rockin’ halo’s”

2010-06-20T18:05:00.001-04:00

Why is there always that one person in church that claps loudly and off-beat?
Better question: Why was Bro. Heavy Hands sittin’ behind me doin’ the “Grindin’” beat on my eardrums with every round of applause during service earlier? If I wasn’t so concerned with the state of my Immortal Soul, I woulda turned around, smacked him upside the head with the New King James version of the Bible and hummed “Goin’ Up Yonder” while proceeding to do so with amazing grace as I beat him with a hymn book. But possibly unluckily for him, Judgment Day isn’t too far off and I’ll have more than enough to answer for.
Anyway.
Happy Fathers Day to all the real fathers, single mothers, aunts, uncles, grandma’s, next door neighbors, et cetera and ad nauseum that are holdin’ it down in the life of a child somewhere. You’re appreciated more than you know and in honor of today and all of you, I won’t delve into my pile of daddy issues. Nope, I’m gonna keep it movin’ with my Track of the Day and call it a post.
Today, my Pastor and newly appointed Bishop preached from Matthew, 7: 13-14

(13) Enter by the narrow gate; for broad is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. (14) Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way that leads to life, there are few who find it.

And he went on to talk about choosing the right (see: narrow) path in and during our spiritual lives. While he was explaining how and why the narrow path wasn’t going to be an easy one to take, an edited version of "The Narrow Path” , my favorite song from Blu and Exile’s Below the Heavens, was playing softly in my head.

Packin' up my bags
Hoppin' back on the narrow path that's planned for us

Tryin’ to tell my folks that flowin’ ain’t easy
Travelin’ down this yellow brick road until it frees me
I need a pen, I need a pad, I need a place to go
To get this shit lifted off of my soul

It's been a long goin', troublesome road and I'm still travelin'.
♥

In. Tolerance.

2010-06-13T19:58:00.001-04:00

Jesus be an electric, razor wired, ten foot fence.
Why must you insist on beating the dead horse that is Homosexuality, Black Church? Why? Don’t you realize that all you’re doing is spreading seeds of intolerance? How can you say that you stand for and represent a God who stands for love when what you’re preaching from the pulpits in your various houses of worship is hate?
Yes, homosexuality may very well be a sin, but hasn’t it been said that our God hates the sin and not the sinner? Stop trying to use God to further your misguided missions in life and learn to embrace all of His people.
After all; that is the Christian thing to do, right?
♥

Alley Cat Strike…Out.

2010-06-11T20:07:00.000-04:00

“I got no words for these niggas; I’m instrumental on ‘em.”

If and when my arm falls off, I’ll be using it to beat some sense into these people for making me bowl another game.
But whateva. I’m gonna ignore them, my swollen and slightly throbbing fingers and the fact that my Sony just started playing Johnta Austin’s demo of “One Time for Love” and keep it pushin’.
I can see beneath that jaded cover, that you’re a girl who’s starved for lovin’, so to you I offer all my heart…
Ugh; dammit Johnta!
*changes the song*
”Electric Relaxation” by ATCQ; much better. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. Operation The (Infamous) One Will Have a Good Gotdang Weekend Despite the Fxckery, or “eff the dumb shxt” for short.
See, I refuse to let the nonsense stop me from enjoying myself. I don’t have the time or the patience necessary for all that. I’ll be too busy flirting with The Young One on ooVoo although Egg is still in possession of my laptop which might just ruin that plan smh and trying to decide if and when I want to head out to Kalamazoo or not. If any of the above falls through—and it might because I have some of the worst luck in the world—I thankfully have other plans. Might head back out to Detroit for a little while to kick it with a few members of my fam that I can actually stand to be around for longish periods of time or I might head out to Flint to do this thing. Who’s to say?
But uh…yeah. There’s this rather gorgeous guy walking in my general direction and the pimp in me would die a little death if I didn’t apply a quick coat of Mango Sorbetto lipgloss and go introduce myself.
♥

Insert Sarcastic and/or Rude Title…Here

2010-06-11T18:54:00.000-04:00

“They tellin’ me I ain’t shit, it’s quite true; constipation takes patience.”

So, I’m sittin’ here, tryin’ to figure out if I give a fanga in the middle and a soy sauce packet about the fact that XX and XY are currently givin’ me the stank face, right? Y’know, like I’m all afraid of them and shxt?
Welp. I just decided that I give neither a fanga in the middle, a soy sauce packet or a four day old egg roll as I throw them my patent pending “don’t forget I’ll be choosing your nursing home so act accordingly” side eye from my table.
*sigh*
I’ve got a headache that’s only being exacerbated by the fact that
1) Bowling alleys are generally loud and Royal Scot is proving to be no exception. Yay.
2) My freakin’ mp3 player has decided to play nothing but songs that remind me of He Who Must Not Be Named which makes me sad and in turn irritates the eff outta me. I hate being sad, dammit.
3) Erm…hello. I’m stuck with The Chromosonal Donors and The Sibling. I’d rather be somewhere enjoying a nice bowl of organic kitty litter.
Oh, how could I forget that
5) XY has recently taken to wearing his wedding ring and referring to XX as his wife…
*blows apple cinnamon flavored chunks*
Jesus be a~~n electric~~ fence all around his obviously addled state of mind every day. And that’s all I have to say on that.
As I’m so fond of telling anyone who’ll listen, I’ll be discussing my multitude of issues with a therapist one day soon. You’ll thank me for not elaborating further when you see my therapy bills; believe me.
♥

And on the Sixth Day...

2010-06-06T17:29:00.000-04:00

“Don’t be disappointed; your mind is great…so use it to escape.”

There’s a very fine line between “angry” and “pissed the effyouseekayoheffeff”. A very fine line. Tell me, which side of said very fine line do you think I happen to be on at this moment in time?
Under normal circumstances; I wouldn’t hesitate to tell you just what’s got my boy-shorts in a comedic twist, but these? Yeah…normal circumstances these ain’t. Dwelling on any of the reckless, totally uncalled for bullshxt that’s currently occurring in the Wonderful Realm of Ren would probably piss me the effyouseekayoheffeff to the point that I go on a targeted choking spree. So instead, to avoid wrapping my in desperate need of a manicure hands around certain people’s necks, I’m gonna touch on just a few of the things that are annoying me and be out.

1) My uterus is scheduled to begin it’s monthly mollywhopping of my intestines in a couple of days and everywhere I go, stores are out of my Hershey Special Dark chocolate bars. Those, along with my assorted heating pads and various bottles of Midol and ibuprofen, are the only things that keep me alive and semiconscious during that time of the month.
2) The dude who just rolled up on me callin’ himself tryin’ to holla just blinded me with his bright ass, “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” meets Tropicana Pure Premium low pulp, orange polo and my eyes have yet to adjust.
3) The number of people who feel the need to harp on my quote unquote “anger issues” is slowly yet ever so steadily rising. The day that people realize that the only effin’ issue I have in regards to my “anger” is with people who do dumb shxt that pisses me the effyouseekayoheffeff can’t come soon enough. For example
4) Egg doesn’t seem to realize that she’s acting just like Sperm did with El Jefe.
I don’t give a fanga in the middle about the fact that they’re “dating” each other again…I’m lyin’ like shxt.
She’s the one who told me that all men are dogs I know, I know. Bitter much? and then she goes and get’s with the main munfxcka that needs to be put down? After telling me that I “deserve so much better” than the guys that she thinks I’m involved with, she goes and gets back with that? Anyway…
XX insists on trying to force that “man” down my throat, barking commands like “speak” at me whenever he’s around, which is, as I already said, exactly what he used to do in regard to The Broad-Backed One. If I wish to acknowledge his presence, I’ll do so. After all, that’s what he did to me for the past fifteen years of my life. Turnabout is fair play and all that, right? Whatever.
Since I’m still on the subject of The Egg Donor and am moving swiftly away from the topic of “dear old dad” *side eye*…
5) Egg ganked my laptop earlier in the week while I was listening to WQXR and cleaning my room and has yet to return it even though I have more than met her terms and conditions. Once again; she’s reneged on the deal that she’s forced me into by trying to get me to do above and beyond that which I needed to do in order to have my frickin’ property returned to me. Ugh.
I miss ~~flirting with~~ talkin’ to the Young One on ooVoo feel free to hit me up on there or Skype: LauRenxExCarter
Sure, I get to talk to him on the phone all the time which is cool, but I kinda miss him mocking my movements on cam. It’s cute.
lol.

♥

Cinder. Elle. E.

2010-06-05T17:25:00.000-04:00

“Don’t sound too good; it sounds ‘Tainted’ to me.”

By a show of hands, how many of y’all would be surprised if I were to say that I’m not in a good gotdamn mood right now? Nobody? Okay…now, by that same show of hands, how many of y’all wouldn’t be surprised at all?
Damn, don’t everyone raise your hands at once!
Sheesh.
I’ve been cleanin’ all gotdang weekend and it’s hot as grits on Al Green in the upstairs rooms of my house. I’ve got a ginormous see: Rihanna’s twelve point nine head headache brought on by The Chromosonal Donors innate sense of idiotic inanity. My mp3 player, in between annoyingly frequent spaz outs, has been playing songs that remind me of He Who Must Not Be Named. The very fact that HWMNBN is on my mind right now saddens and annoys me, as does the fact that I have my own personal Lord Voldermort out this bish.
Hmm; what else…
For reasons that are still unknown to me, I’ve been locked out of my main Twitter account and have been forced to use my backup. Twitter and their effing “support” team are making me jump through hoops to get my password changed and with every support ticket and request for a password change that I file, I get more and more aggravated. If they keep up the bullshxt, I’ll be forced to switch my social networking allegiance to FaceBook or even *gulp* MySpace. Didn’t take Kat Stacks this long to get her ish back. Within hours she was back to spreading venereal disease and hearing AIDS with her cackle on the Interwebnets and I can’t get a simple password change request answered?!
Bullnonsense.
I just had a slight wardrobe malfunction and my creepy neighbor witnessed it. Ewww. ~~Dad~~ Sperm won’t get the eff outta my house and hearing ~~Mom~~ Egg fawn over him makes me want to blow gooey pink and yellow chunks. All. Over. Them.
Twice.
Oh yeah. I sorta kinda almost but really do miss The Young One too. Just a little bit…
lol, aight, my rant and the breeze that’s comin’ through my window made me feel just a tad bit better. I’m gonna turn the volume on my Sony all the way up to 30 and, despite my throbbing headache, plug in my Sharper Image headphones, go downstairs and find somethin’ to eat. So uh, yeah. Until I feel the need to rant and/or rave again, I’m out.

♥

Check. Mate.

2010-05-26T16:16:00.004-04:00

“Try to slick a can of oil; who you think you foolin’?”

Let me break this down and put it in a format that you’ll understand:
you cannot play me; you will not win.
It is both impossible and improbable so I suggest you quit the utterly pointless, thoroughly unnecessary and all around tiring games. You’re far too old for this shit and I expected so much more from you. Hell, we both deserve more than what you’re currently givin’ and I can’t wait for the day that you finally get it together.
Not for me; oh no, I’m more concerned with you gettin’ it right for yourself.
But until that day comes, if you wanna play games? Fine; we can play. This isn’t checkers anymore, my King. You and I? We’re playing chess.
Don’t fuck around and lose your Queen.

-Leslie Elizabeth

excerpt from the THD’s
♥

Five Point Two

2010-05-26T16:16:00.001-04:00

Here we go, one more time…

Five Things I’ve Learned So Far This Week: Take Two

5) Teenagers are gonna be the death of me. They’re rude, offensive as all hell and I can’t be around them for long periods of time without wanting to take a power drill to the side of the dome. I’ll gladly acknowledge the fact that I have rude-ish tendencies more often than not but dammit, I’ve got nothin’ on these fxckers. Or is it they have nothing on me? Hmm…
4) I can almost paint the nails on my right hand—I’m a righty—as well as I can paint the ones on my left, but as I suck at painting my nails, take that as you may.
3) Karma-Karma-Karma-Karma-Karma Kameleon she comes and goes has all the makings of a power hungry dictator. She knows this and doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. In fact, I think she relishes this.
2) Even when it was wrong—especially when it was wrong—it was always right.
1) I was right I think and that knowledge neither fazes or pleases me. I’m not mad or anywhere close to being pissed off like I usually would be, nor am I sad. I’m strictly “eh” for the moment, gathering more information and staying neutral in the mean time.
♥

Recollections of a Rensomniac

2010-05-26T03:53:00.000-04:00

“Listen to my story and you’ll know just who the bastard is.”

The time is currently 2:14 AM and surprise, sureffinprise: I’m wide the eff awake. Once again. Ugh.
I don’t have time for this ish, yet here I am, Beethoven’s String Quartet in C, Op. 29 is playing softly on WQXR, there’s a liter of Deja Blue to the right of me and and a pencil complete with fresh bite-marks in my hand, scratching quietly along the page. I should be in my bed, snuggled up with my ferocious beast of a stuffed lion E, yet again, here I am.
I haven’t been able to fall asleep at a decent hour for the past three weeks or so. It’s either because I didn’t get to sleep until 6:45 one morning after staying up and out with The Bestie and The Toy until 5:00, or it’s because of what I discovered the morning before that. Long story short:
Bitches and those who should know better kill me with the shit they do and the pointless lies they tell.
If you feel the need to lie about a situation, not once, not twice but multiple times? To someone who knows and accepts the real you, no matter what you do? You know what you’re doin’ is wrong.
…but I’m not goin’ there, not tonight. Let me throw up these tracks of the day and be out until next post.
First up is QuESt yes, again. He’s one of my favs, what can I say? with the P.ersonal assisted track
”Ego”

one of my favorite selections from WMRB?

Next is Personal with
”Lose Tonight”

from his upcoming “Sydney in Theory” EP
I’m lovin’ the alternative-hip hop feel of this track. He managed to fuse two of my favorite genres of music and create a more progressive sound with help from lyrics like

I’m more ‘bout myself, I am on my own shit…
pricked from the thorns of the grapevine
a rose that emerged from the concrete stone
a stick of dynamite, the thought that I’d be blown
they don’t even know the shit my mind be on…

Last, but most certainly not least is
“Exhibit Q”

Which is, if you hadn’t already guessed, QuESt’s take on ~~Jay Elechanukkah~~ Jay Electronica’s instant classic “Exhibit C”.
QuESt goes in, delivering lyrical promises like

And I ain’t goin’ nowhere
nickname ‘Tattoo’
Stick this game to save my heart
that’s why they call me John Q

over the Just Blaze crafted beat.
Listen closely, he’s got quotables for days.
♥

Five Point One

2010-05-19T10:36:00.001-04:00

“I’m not absentminded; I just happen to be tardy.”

I’m doin’ somethin’ a little different this time around. Somethin’ that I actually see myself stickin’ with unlike a few of the other things I’ve done here in past posts.
The other day, I was acquainting myself with my new follower @Mo_Rease on Twitter when in between talkin’ smack about Caillou to my big sis I decided to check out his website link and came across his blog, Stumbling and Rumblings. One of the first entries that I came across was a “Five Things” post written by the hilarious @ameriQan.
Long story short, I like the idea of the five things posts and have decided to adopt it for use on The (Infamous) Life, so without further ado, let’s get into it.
♥

Five Things I’ve Learned So Far This Week…

5) Lies hurt more than the truth ever could.
4) My main mp3 player is sexually deprived or something to that effect because damn. Out of the 1500 songs I currently have on my Sony Walkman fxck your iPod, nobody cares it’ll only play the ones relating to sex when I put it on shuffle past midnight. *rolls eyes*
3) I walk a very thin line between “just a tad bit annoyed” and “pissed the effyouseekayoheffeff” on a daily basis.
2) One of the guys that I used to talk to is going prematurely bald and the thought of his new “wifey” rubbing Rogaine into his scalp before making an appointment at the nearest Bosley Medical amuses me to no end.
1) You can try to run from your commitments, your past and your future. You may even try to run from those that love you the most, but no matter how hard and how fast your run? You’ll never be able to escape yourself.

♥

I Wanna Be Where You Are(n’t)

2010-05-16T14:55:00.001-04:00

“Y’all can’t fade me; y’all need Ambi”

This is gonna sound hella random—even to my standards and y’all know how I do—but I have a question: am I the only one who’s ever wanted to light a match near someone who smells like they’ve bathed in their cologne/body spray/perfume/etc.? Ya know, just to see if they might catch on fire or spark or somethin’ to that effect?
Oh…you haven’t? I guess it’s just another one of those “No LauRen/Elle/Ren, it’s just you, sweetie” type things then, huh?
Oh. Well.
The person that was sitting behind me when I went to go see Iron Man 2 yesterday smelled like the inside of a knock-off perfume factory was lucky that I didn’t have my lighter on me. Would’ve left her as a mound of imitation Chanel no. 5 scented ashes. Fxckin’ wit’ my olfactory senses for two hours, bish…
I’m jokin’; sheesh. Lighten up.
But I digress.
Ya girl is currently chillin’ out, maxin’, relaxin’ all bored like on the couch, watching an episode of Criminal Minds and vibin’ to QuESt’s “Where’s My Rhymebook?” mixtape, takin’ a break from doing something mildly pathetic. Which I’m not going into at the moment, but, if you care—and I strongly doubt you do—the details will emerge over the course of the next six months so…yep.
I'm gonna keep this one short because I have other writing to do so, let’s get it.
♥
I hate…
BET
I’m sure that Robert L. Johnson’s intentions were good to better than great when he founded Black Entertainment Television. Positive of that in fact. However, his dream has turned into a nightmare for the Black community. The stereotypes that are portrayed on the network are shameful at best and among the most degrading insults that we as a culture have to deal with. This network and its parent company ~~Antichrist and Illumanati, LLC~~ Viacom delight in showing our people in both a stereotypical and negative light and honestly? The fact that there are people who delight in the coonish—oh yes, I did say coonish—antics and gimmicks that have become synonymous with all things BET irritates and, on a deeper level, saddens me.

See, I told you it would be short.
♥

It’s Just Those “Rainy Dayz”

2010-05-13T14:04:00.001-04:00

Smile; give me reason to keep believin’ that everything ain’t deceivin’…

This is a perfect day for music and reflection on any and everything from life to romance and relationships, past and present, so, I won’t sit here and try to blog you to death. I’ll post these rain-related tracks and be out.
First up is
“Go Ahead in the Rain”

from A Tribe Called Quest off of their People’s Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm album.

Next is
“Dancing in the Rain”

off of Blu and Exile’s Below the Heavens

Switching gears and heading in a more R&B direction I have the aptly named
”Rain”

by Razah

then
”Summer Rain”

by Carl Thomas

and finally
“Rainy Dayz”

by Mary J. Blige and Ja Rule

♥

The Merry, Merry Month of May

2010-05-13T11:40:00.001-04:00

It would be just like the “great” *side-eye* State of Michigan to go and get an old adage flipped, twisted and confused:
April showers bring May flowers.
Gotdangit.
This isn’t even your average, run of the mill type rain either. No ma’am, no girl. This is that make it look like 7 PM in the middle of the Fall at 10:30 AM on a Spring day rain. This is the kind of rain that will laugh at you and your little punk ass umbrella before destroying it then moving on to its next victim. This is that rain that you hope and pray doesn’t fall from the sky after you spent the money that was supposed to go toward your rent on a new hairdo type rain. The kind of rain that will team up with the leaky faucet in your place of residence to create a drip-drip-drop-drip-drop-drip cadence designed to make you go insane.This is the kind of rain that ruins all things nursery rhyme and old-timey song.
Think about it.
If it continues to rain like this? There will be no way to stroll through the park one day in the merry, merry month of May so you can forget being taken by surprise by a pair of eyes, roguish or otherwise. You’ll be too busy tryin’ to make sure that your umbrella doesn’t fall the eff apart, which sucks for you Billy Boy, Billy Boy. How will you find out if this young thing, who happens to be 3 x 6, 4 x 7, 28 +11 *side eye from the pits of a geriatric hell cuz this bish ain’t young at all* , knows what to do on a Bicycle meant for two?
Exactly. You won’t.
♥

Ten (Plus Five) Things I Hate About You

2010-05-08T14:54:00.001-04:00

You can call it Hell, but bruh, I just say I’m “Below the Heavens”

Surprise, surprise: I’m still in that “choke, cut, defenestrate, disembowel and otherwise maim you” mood that I was in earlier due to the chorus line of muhfxckas doin’ the Cupid Shuffle on the very last of my good nerves. While these fools insist on irritating me with their nonsense, drama and bullshxt and walkin’ it by themselves on my poor, frazzled nerves, I’m trying to remain that happy, calm, sweet individual that I know I have the potential to be. But guess what? Shxt ain’t workin’ for me so bump it.
Let’s get into this one, shall we?
♥

Fifteen Things I Abhor, Dislike, Despise, Can’t Stand and Generally “Hate”

15) Public Transportation—More Specifically, The CATA and The People Who Ride It
The Capital Area Transportation Authority is the premier uh…authority when it comes to transporting Lansing’s residents all over the city. Which is all fine, dandy and peachy effin’ keen for those of us without a license and/or car like yours truly. However, the unclean masses I could do without. I’ve been spit on, damn near peed on and no, it wasn’t by a baby drooled on and harassed while tryin’ to get to wherever the heck I was going at one time or another.
I don’t know what it is, but there is something about the CATA that makes niggas act a gotdang reckless fool when it comes to approaching ladies such as myself. I’ve had dudes take my headphones out of my ears to try and spit their shamefully weak game at me and lawd, that’s not even half of the reckless ish I’ve had to deal with, but I’ve got fourteen more annoyances to list so…

14) Unnecessarily Loud People
If my volume is at 25 while blasting Onyx’s “Slam” through my Skull Candy’s and I can hear yo’ loud ass from way across the room, we’re gonna have a problem. There is absolutely no reason that I can think of for a human being to be that gotdang loud. None. At. All. This is unacceptable and every time I encounter an obnoxiously loud person in a quiet setting like the library, I entertain thoughts of silencing them with a a roundhouse kick to the jugular while making angry eyes at them from wherever it is I happen to be sitting.

13) People Who Try to Talk to Me When I’m Listening to Music or Have My Headphones In
I mean really. Headphones mean “don’t fxck with me”, why don’t people understand this and insist on attempting to carry on a conversation? The whole purpose of me spending $15 a pop on a pair of Skull Candy’s is so I don’t have to listen to the world at large.
Don’t interrupt me while I’m ignoring you, that’s rude.

12) Lansing, Michigan
Point blank: I hate it here. There’s less than nothing left for me here and the day I make my escape can’t come soon enough. Where am I going? No clue yet. My heart lives in Cali, but who knows? *shrugs sadly*

11) My Family
Y’all know I couldn’t write this without mentioning these fxckers I said it out of love, shut up at least once. Now, before you go about getting it flipped, twisted and three kinds of confused, let me explain. I love my family, I really do. Especially the members of said family that I don’t see on the reggy. My peeps from Arkansas, Detroit, the DMV and Chicago? Yeah, love ‘em to death. The immediate fam though? No, hell no.
I still love ‘em but I hate to be around them. No one can push your buttons like your fam can and mine are fond of jumping on mine with the things they do and say. You all think I’m evil? That’s nothin’. You should see the stock that I’m sprung from. You’ll be calling me St. Ren of the Light Skin after spending a day with Sperm and Egg.

10) Vevo
Vevo is the worst thing to happen to YouTube since Chris Crocker. ‘Nuff said.

9) People Who Eat Loudly
What the effing eff man, really? Tell me, how do you eat cotton candy loudly and why do you insist on doing so?

8) People Who Don’t Shut Up
Ecclesiastes, chapter 3, verse 7b
“A time to keep silence and a time to speak”
Do yourself a favor and learn when these times are. Please and thank you.

7) DirecTV
Any television provider that doesn’t have MTV Jams or VH1 Soul is the devil, plus, we don’t get the CW even though we pay for it which means no Supernatural for me. Oh, and their “On Demand”? Deffy a lie. It doesn’t count if you have to wait for the program to download smh.
I miss Comcast =/

6) People
Self explanatory.

5) Most Females
Bxtches man…can’t stand ‘em.
Just last week, this girl hit me up with some bullshxt that I really didn’t need in my life and if she weren’t so far away, I’d find her and kick her ass. Bxtches need to know their roles and not act above their stations in life and relationships. Like one of my favorite creations E. Marie Juliet St. James says,
"You're not his leading lady; you're just an understudy. Know your role. Ho."

4) Guys Who Are Obsessed With My Bottom Lip
A week is not complete until and unless some guy, random or otherwise, makes some out of the way comment about molesting my bottom lip.
Look, I appreciate the fact that my face has one redeeming quality and the fact that you’re attracted to it, but when I get comments like
“I wanna suck on yo’ bottom lip”
and
“I want those lips wrapped around my dick”
on pictures like the one below?

Yeah. We have an issue on our hands that can only be resolved by me stabbing you in the arm with the first sharp object I can get my hands on.

3) My Boobs
See this?

My Happy Bunny hoodie won’t zip up all the way due to the size of my breasts. I’ve got cleavage to die for, but still.

2) Being Lied to Unnecessarily
I’ll admit that there have been times where I’ve been fooled in the past, but for the most part, I know when I’m being lied to and I hate the fact that certain people feel the need to do so. Out of all the people in the world, I’m the one that they can be completely honest with without fear of being judged and they know that, so I take the fact that they’re lying to me to mean that they’re lying to themselves as well. You don’t have to do that; there’s no need.

1) People Who Think I’m Stupid
I may not be the brightest crayon in the figurative box but I can assure you, I’m far from stupid. Just because you don’t see me acting in what you perceive to be an intelligent manner doesn’t mean that my intelligence is subpar to yours or anyone else’s.
I’ve come to learn that it’s not always about acting intelligently, it’s about finding a way to make your intelligence work in a way that will suit and benefit you best. So if that means acting “stupid” then so be it.
♥

Downtown Friday Nights

2010-05-07T23:45:00.000-04:00

Fly’s what I encompass; peep my direction.

I have no clue when y’all will see this because of my effed up Internet connection btw, I hate you AT&T. Fxckers. but it’s 10:07 PM, Friday, May 7th. Take a guess as to where The (Infamous) One is. Go ahead, it’ll be fun. You may even get it right.
What’s that? You think I’m at a screening of Iron Man 2? Yeah…no.
I’m broke as hell, don’t have a ride even if I did have the money to go see it and I don’t feel like being bothered by any of my ~~jump-off’s~~ ~~bxtches~~ ~~ho’s~~ guy friends at the moment. Nope, the blogger formerly and currently known as Elle Carter is sprawled smack dab in the middle of her—that is to say my—living room, the boy-bandy sounds of NSYNC blaring in my Sharper Image headphones.
Suffice it to say, I’m not in the mood for bullshxt. But of course you know that some has inevitably found yours truly which annoys the hell outta me and dammit, I’m cravin’ a drink. Which is bad. I don’t drink enough to feel like I need one because, y’know, it’s all illegal and shxt , but dammit if a Sparkling Limon-limeade or two. Fxck it, three doesn’t sound good right now.
Oh, by the way…
Sparkling Limon-limeade

♥ Sunkist Sparkling Lemonade
♥ Bacardi Limon
♥ Lime juice
♥ Lemon
♥ Sugar for optional sugared rim

Add a double shot of Bacardi Limon to, a splash of lime juice and a twist of lemon to six (6) ounces of Sunkist Sparkling Lemonade. Stir. Garnish with a slice of lemon. Enjoy.

Ugh. Now I really want one.
♥

Ooh Baby; It’s Rainin’

2010-05-07T18:51:00.000-04:00

The sun will come, this we know for sure…can you stand the rain?

It’s another one of those days y’all.
The rain falling on my roof is pitter-patterin’, drip-droppin’ and drivin’ me insane. Not only has said rain effed up my wireless signal but it’s also interfering with DirecTV’s satellite signal and Steel Magnolias was just getting good. Dammit.
Other than that and being too lazy to get up and dump the rain water that’s accumulated in the bucket in the middle of my living room, I’m coolin’, listenin’ to music. I finished a couple of boutonnieres and corsages for The Bestie’s Lil Bro’s prom a little while ago
peep it out

and they just picked ‘em up before they went to go do whatever it is that you do before prom, I didn’t go to either one of mine so eh.
I’m almost bored enough to explain why I didn’t attend either one of the ridiculously overpriced dances thrown for the junior and senior classes of my alma mater, but guess what? I don’t want to. Nobody wants to hear about my ~~sperm-donor with selective benefits~~ daddy issues, my future therapist is gonna get an earful soon enough, but until then or until I get bored, pissed off or dunk enough to start blabbin; my secrets, I’m gonna throw up these tracks of the day and be the eff out.
First up is
“Can You Stand the Rain?”

by New Edition

And lastly is
“Do You Remember the Rain?”

by one of my favorite up and coming artists, QuESt off of his Distant Travels Into Soul Theory project which was one of the better releases of 2009.
Not only does the song go with the rain theme of this post, but I’ve been here before; I can relate.
Losing the one that you love—the one person that you would give it all up for if they asked, the one that you see yourself spending the rest of your life with—to someone else is one of—if not the most heartbreaking things that you can ever go through. You cry; ask yourself if it’s your fault that the relationship went wrong and how you can fix it and…
If you’ve never experienced this, count yourself lucky, but sit back and take a moment to listen to the sounds of heartbreak. Remember that pain and don’t you ever put another person through that if you can help it.
*cough*
If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be hopping off of my improvised soapbox now, might even make a call to my duder Soap. Hmm…maybe not, might txt him though.
I’m out.
♥

I Got 99 Problems but This Bish Ain’t One

2010-04-30T16:56:00.001-04:00

The Tiffanee Thomas Affair

Seems like I’m always and forever gettin’ myself involved in one fxcked up situation or another, doesn’t it? I need to work on that because really? This is not a good look for my life. While I love most things fxckery related, continuing to experience them first hand is going to be the end of my (infamous) life. While you may not care, I know that somewhere out there ~~beneath the pale moonlight~~ someone would miss me, so I’m gonna try to keep interactions like the one I’m about to write about to a minimum. For their sake.
Anyway.
I’m still a little on the dazed and confused side as to how we even got into this situation, but a few days after I posted my last entry, I received a Direct Message on Twitter from some bish going by the screen-name @iWant_iGet. Which was odd. I’d never even received a RT or mention from this chick and there she was in my inbox. Initially, I wasn’t going to read her message and just brush it off as spam, but I peeped it anyway.

I knew that she was from the same area G’s from and had seen them talk to each other online before so I just assumed that they knew each other in real life so, I responded.

I thought that was gonna be the end of the conversation until she hit me wit’ this bullshxt.

Why does everyone always assume that I’m tryin’ to take this nigga away from his girlfriend?! Sheesh. May-May I told you I’m not gonna stop callin’ you that mister and I are strictly platonic friends. He loves his girl and while I’m not exactly sure what to call him right now, I love Q. He knows and respects that and has never tried to come at me on that level. Ever.

Girl…bye.

We continued to DM each other about the situation until she finally told me to txt him the next day before logging off for the night. The next day, I txt him for the first time since the incident occurred last Saturday telling him that a ‘friend’ of his said I should hit him up and the first thing he told me was, “Ms. Carter, you’re gonna get me in soooooo much trouble.”
Which I, of course, found to be mildly hilarious, but y’all know Ren. I’m a sick puppy like that.
He asked me which friend of his it was that told me I should hit him up. When I responded that it was neither of the people he had mentioned but instead one Ms. Tiffanee Thomas, he told me that he didn’t trust her and asked me to get on Skype.
Me: I deleted you from my contacts.
G.: You’re not even giving me a chance to explain the whole thing. When did you talk to Tiffanee?
Me: she hit me up late last night/early this morning
G.: Why? I don’t trust her, I didn’t say one thing to her about you. I secretly think it’s Jessica honestly
Me: that’s not what she told me and *shrugs*
G.: She’s dead ass lying, I never DM’d her, I barely even talked to her
Me: doesn’t bother me none
Fact: I was lying like shxt. By this point I knew we had been bamboozled and it pissed me off.
G eventually convinced me to hop on Skype and, long story short since I wanna throw up these screenshots and be done wit’ this bullshxt once and for all, were convinced that this Tiffanee Thomas trick was his girlfriend. We were, apparently although the jury is still out on that for me wrong about that and TT turns out to be someone his girl knows. Go ahead and throw your best side-eye, I’ve been doin’ the same thing. At about 9 o’clock that same night, Ms. Tiffanee Muddafxckin’ Thomas logged back on to Twitter and, well…

Peep what she said to @jmillz1984.
“I’m breaking niggas up lol….and I’m loving it”
Bish is crazy, point blank period.
Now, it’s not bad enough that she decided to go after G for whatever sick, twisted reason that she had, but then she said this

which effectively launched her sideways and ergo reckless at me, so, I had to respond.

Usually when I start throwing outdated insults like “guttersnipe” around, people get the point and back the eff back. However, this bxtch must’ve had an extremely high dose of “Fuck it” in her system because she kept tryin’ to go hard at me by calling me fat, ugly, a dike, etc. etc.
*stifles a yawn*
I’ve heard worse from better so I wasn’t concerned with what else she had to say as I continued my rant.

You know she went and continued her eThuggery, right? I wasn’t in the mood to continue on with the shenanigans so as I felt myself winding down, I said

Then

Which should have been the end of that, but long after I blocked her, she kept tryin’ to go hard, to which I said

I still think that somethin’ in the milk ain’t clean about this situation and I have a feeling that it’s far from over smh.
♥

If Yo’ Girl Only Knew…Oh. Wait. She Does.

2010-04-25T16:16:00.001-04:00

This ain’t ‘bout my ego; though I hate to lose…

I’m gonna keep this one short. Peep the screen shot below, click to enlarge if need be.

The fact that I just lost who and what I thought to be a really good friend hurts. However; the reason behind our friendship ending pisses me off.
I hate it when ~~broads~~ ~~bxtches~~ girls who probably won’t even be in the picture in six months make their man choose between them and a friend as I’m pretty positive this is what happened in my situation. It’s not fair, it’s not right and it makes you look really insecure ladies and that is not a good look for your life. If you think that your guy is cheating on you or that you can’t trust him and this friend of his whether it’s a girl or not, end it. Don’t put him in the position where he has to make a decision between one or the other because no matter which one he chooses, someone’s going to end up hurt and most likely pissed off in the end.
Fellas, don’t allow yourself to be put in a position where you have to chose between your girl and your strictly platonic friend(s) because believe me, she won’t stop there when it comes to making you choose between her and something else.
…I’m sorry y’all.
Even with the day or so that’s passed since this incident occurred, I’m still very much annoyed, sad and more than a little bit hurt that it came down to this. But, it is what it is G, as you said, “it was fun while it lasted”. You never should’ve had to make that choice, but you did so eh. I hope she was worth it and I since I still love you, I’m going to hold off on snidely adding ‘but I seriously doubt she is’.
Oh. Wait….

Now back to your irregularly posted blogs.
♥

“You’re That Mistake That’s Waiting to Happen.”

2010-04-24T12:38:00.001-04:00

Stacy’s mom may just have it goin’ on, but ya know what? Jimmy’s dad is really, really rad….Yeah, you’ll have to excuse me and the random reference to those faces from the milk carton The Fountains of Wayne, but it just randomly started playing in my head so eh, why not.
♪I know it might be bad but I’m in love with Nina’s dad♪
But I digress.
How goes it folks? It’s been forever and twelve point nine nine eight five four days since I’ve posted a blog and ya know what? I’m not even about to hit y’all with an excuse. I’ve just been lazy about updating The (Infamous) Life.
Bad Ren, bad.
*smacks hand*
But anyway, a few “announcements” then I’m out. And don’t worry, ~~I’m ever so slightly hung over right now~~ I have a slight headache so they’ll be short and those of you who actually read my blog won’t have to worry about your eyes saying, “Bxtch, we quit you for making us read this shxt.” Aren’t you excited?
First, my laptop is finally fixed! My poor, sweet, little piece of crap Dell was out of commission for two months but now it’s back in working order, so I can type up the blogs that I’ve written but never posted and update “Goode Lovin’” like I’ve been meaning to for a few weeks now. Other ish got in the way though so eh.
Secondly, there’s a possibility that some rather interesting ish is about to happen here on this rather neglected blog of mine. However, the details on all that are still sketchy at best so I’ll keep mum don’t you just love British sayings? until I’m more than a little positive that the plans that I’m currently putting in motion are actually going to happen.
I think there was something else I wanted to say, but my brain is a lil fuzzy right now, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go and refill my Coke, hop in The Bestie’s car and head back home to face The Egg Donor.
Tia somehow conned me into babysitting her bad ass little cousin with her and her super tall little sister last night and T.E.G. asked if I would be out all night or not when we left my house. I told her that I would be back home, but when we got done watchin’ him, we—meaning Tia—decided that we didn’t wanna go home just yet and, long story short because I really wanna get another Coke and get the fxck outta McDonald’s, we ended up kickin’ it and spendin’ the night wit’ Tia’s friend Rika.
Oh, and my nigga J. Cuervo too.
I’m gone.
♥

The Problem With Here is it’s Where You Are(n’t)

2010-04-08T12:17:00.001-04:00

It’s just one of those days; feel free to take it personal(ly).
It’s raining, and it’s not that sexy, “lets dance in and/or make out in then cake in front of a fireplace” rain either. Oh no. This? This is that basement floodin’, make your roof leak then drive you crazy with the pitter patter of of water droplets hittin’ the bucket kind of rain. The kind of rain that I loathe, detest and generally despise. Awesome weather we’re havin’ here in Michigan, huh?
Along with the sound of the rain ~~against my window pane slowly driving me insane~~ drip-drip-droppin’ into the bucket in my living room, I’m not exactly in the best of moods. Shocking isn’t it? My little sister is gonna make me choke the eff outta her and I can’t wait til she goes back to school cuz this spring break thing ain’t gettin’ it.
I have cramps like a muhfxcka and since I know that there are guys that randomly hit The (Infamous) Life from time to time, allow me to illustrate for you and them what my body does to me every twenty-eight days or so.
My reproductive organs are beating the fxck outta me. It feels like someone is playing double dutch with my fallopian tubes while my uterus is doing the A-Town Stomp, Cupid Shuffle, Chicken Head, Wu-Tang and Stanky Leg. In high heels. That also happen to be cleats.
That’s right. There’s something roughly the size of a pear doing the A-Town-Cupid-Chicken-Tang-Leg inside of me right now in high heeled cleats, so before another one of you boys tries to talk to me about pain, here’s what I want you to do. Gather up three of your best soccer playing mates, put ‘em in cleats then have ‘em do the Soulja Boy on your junk. After that, have one one ‘em heel toe on it for good measure then rub a paste that’s three parts salt and equal parts lemon juice and bleach into the gaping hole that was once your manhood.
Not that it’s gonna come close to to you understanding my pain or whatever, it’s just a lot nicer than what I’d do to you for coming reckless at me. Plus, I think it’d be funny, but then again, I’m a sick puppy.
Anyway, I’m off in search of some Midol, a Hershey’s Special Dark chocolate bar and a heating pad to ease my pain so…I’m out.

♥

Gee Aye Gee Me With a Eff Oh Are Kay

2010-04-04T20:39:00.000-04:00

I’m going to find and destroy Lil Mama’s Bedazzler if it’s the last thing I do; I’m tired of being visually raped by rhinestones and plastic jewels every time I watch ABDC. Don’t make no damn sense; her ass should’ve grown out of that “Ooh, sparkly!!” phase by now gotdangit.

Anyway.

I’m bored and not feeling too well at the moment. I know I should be rewriting the two pages of “Goode Lovin’” that I accidently spilled tea on earlier, but I can’t motivate myself to to do it. I’m too lazy to even blame myself right now so I’ll instead hold Lil Mama and the Bedazzled, pastel pink monstrosity that she’s wearing responsible. Yeah, I know it’s a cop out but…so? If you’ve seen this season’s illusion episode, you’ll understand why I can’t turn my mind or my mechanical pencil back to rewriting the naming ceremony. Bxtch is wearing a phony gemstone encrusted bib thing over what appears to be a Pepto Bismol soaked Snuggie. Shxt’s distracting as all hell and not in a good way.

Bleh.

My head is killing me and even after a cup of mouthwash and three sticks of gum, I can’t shake that disgusting throw up taste that’s loitering in my mouth. Stupid Whiskey River BBQ burger from stupid Red Robin last night, made me miss Easter service this morning. True, I previously said that I wasn’t going to be attending since The Parental and The Sibling left me home alone this weekend and might’ve had a slight hangover to work off, but since I didn’t go anywhere last night, I changed my mind. I was getting ready to go earlier when blam!, I hit a fantastic Linda Blair impersonation. Ugh and eww.

Other than trying to rid the taste of puke from my mouth and attempting to figure out what goes through Lil Mama’s head when she picks out her clothes you know she ain’t got no stylist, I’m annoyed. As in majorly irked. The current source of my frustration is being an assfacebuttwad for no gotdang reason and in between random chunk blowing, I’ve been entertaining the thought of suffocating them with a marshmallow Peep all day.

See, I told them that what had happened wasn’t even that serious, but no, they wanna go and be all unnecessarily difficult and ergo stupid just because they can be.

Just like a frickin’ boy.

Markus is the Type That Gives “Goode Lovin’”

2010-04-01T20:16:00.001-04:00

“Reality” dating shows. We know ‘em, love ‘em and love to hate ‘em.
Whenever some vapid and shallow pseudo celebrity—waddup Ray J?—is given one of these shows, we gripe; complain about how it will inevitably show our race and/or gender in a bad light and set our various recording devices to record the entire season. We don’t do it to watch our favorite asinine and trifling “celebrities”—what’s good Real and Chance?—look for love, lust or multiple sexual partners. Oh no sir and/or madam. We, and don’t try to act like you’re exempt from this because you aren’t, watch it for the Grade A, one of a kind fxckery that’s sure to occur.
Think about it. You get a handful of ~~tramps, skeezers and flat out ho’s~~ women vying for the affection of one man and jockeying for free publicity to expand their various horizons and realize their career aspirations. This is trainwrecky entertainment at it’s best and worst. I’m sure that somewhere out there, in a room lit only by the glow of VH1 on their television screen, someone is taking a shot every time a contestant on one of these shows exclaims “I’m a model” or “I’m here for him” and if they aren’t? Someone should be doing just that. Fxckery of epic proportions such as the ones displayed on these programs deserves a drinking game or three.
It’s only right.
Now, if you know me like the majority of y’all *cough* think you know me, you’re well aware of the fact that I thrive on fxckery and all fxckery related things which does, yes indeed, include “reality” dating shows. Again, if you know me like you think you know me, you also know how much I love to write. It should really come as no shock to you that the last time the clichéd light-bulb of creativity clicked on inside my head, I came up with an idea for a—wait for it—reality dating show.
”Goode Lovin’” sounds like it could be an awesomely bad VH1 show, doesn’t it? I’m still working out the concepts and am currently having a field day trying to format this side project of mine, but here go the basics.
The show revolves around Markus Goode and his “quest for love” thanks to his best friend, the shows executive producer. However, the story revolves around AJ Riley, the heroine if you will, and sheds light on what happened when the cameras weren’t rolling. The readers will get the chance to see what the girls are really like and will tell exactly what happened between AJ and Mark.
As I said, I’m still putting it all together, but click here to get a lil bit of “Goode Lovin’”

Young, Black and Bitter: The Elle Carter Story

2010-03-28T17:29:00.001-04:00

First things first:
Congrats Alissa and Dejon!! I’m so happy for you sis and I know that you and D will be amazing parents to Kali ♥
Secondly:
Allow me to explain the title before some poor unfortunate soul word to Ursula gets it flipped, twisted and generally confused. Yes, I am young, black and Puerto Rican as well. Bitter though? Nah, more like semi-sweet. Semi-sweetness aside though, that didn’t stop some loser from texting that to me the other day when they were thinkin’ about/denying the fact that they missed me. I thought it was hilarious, but then again, I’m a sick individual.
Anywho.
How goes it to those of y’all who stumble across the blog and read a bit before you continue your search for free porn? Y’all been good? Bueno.
It’s been a minute since I’ve posted anything of substance so I felt like it was time to break my self-imposed silence. Not that y’all care or whatever. Some Anonymous person—*waves* hey sweetie, how ya been?—told me that I should stop blogging because no one cares about what I have to say and a whole bunch of other things designed to “tear me down” and “break my blogging spirit” or some shxt. Long story short: it ain’t work; all it did was piss me the eff off. But it’s all good now, I’m not sweatin’ it. Don’t have the time.
I’ve been a very busy girl lately, which is the main reason I haven’t posted to The (Infamous) Life or any of my other blogs lately. I’ve been looking for a new job cuz this typing gig that I have ain’t cuttin’ it and the writing schedule that Miss Maria has me on is Bonkers yeah, totally nuts.
This job situation? Lawd. Could it get any more reckless?
A couple of weeks ago, I had an interview at this tuxedo shop up the street from Chez Ren, right? Yeah…needless to say that I nailed the interview. However, I didn’t get the job. It went to someone’s frickin’ Meemaw. When I found out I didn’t get the job, I of course asked why they decided to go with Geriatric Woman Number Three instead of me. I was told that it was because she had more experience.
A few things:
1) The hen—I can’t call her a chick as they’re young and she definitely ain’t—that got the job was in charge of guarding the first fire in ancient times. I’m sure that over the course of the many millennia that have passed since then she’s had many jobs which include but aren’t limited to: Pyramid builder, cross maker, Chupacabra wrangler, etc. etc
2) of course her—no disrespect—old ass has more experience than I do
3) Bleh and booooo on their decision. Not too sure how many guys are gonna rent tuxes from a ~~chick~~ hen who reminds them of their grandmother considering how much debauchery they plan on committing during prom night. And they do plan on committing reckless acts of debauchery on prom night. They’re boys. Come on now.
But whateva though, let me touch on my writing, throw on my tracks of the day and be out.
In addition to working on my final rewrite of Cam&&Essence and developing storylines for the THD’s, I’ve started a new project. This one is completely different from anything that I’ve ever written before and I just wanna do a “Goode” job on it. I’ll talk about it in more detail next post, but until then, here’s a bit of tuneage to add to your digital media devices.
First up is “Life of the Responsible 1” by QuESt

off his How Thoughtful project.
His delivery over The Neptunes crafted “I Know” beat is crazy, the lyrics are on point like always, as is his lyrical dexterity. This is just one of the many tracks that makes me anxious for his next project, The Reason.

Next is “Woke Up in a Dream” by Hassani Kwess

off D.R.E.A.M. The Mixtape.
If you personally know me, you know how much I love Kingdom Hearts. If you love Kingdom Hearts, you’re gonna love this track. Not only does Kwess paint you an auditory picture of a Heartless seeking the door to the Light and a Nobody this makes perfect sense to the KH nuts like myself, it’s aight if you ain’t hip, just get that way seeking the same Light, he seamlessly blends the first two KH games with his lyrics. Utada Hikaru’s haunting vocals makes this the perfect song to play whether you’re chillin’ by yourself, beating Guard Armor in Traverse Town’s third district in KH 1 or trying to beat Sephiroth in The Dark Depths in KH 2.
Yes, I’m a dork, I know.

♥

“And Don’t You Forget It”

2010-03-09T21:05:00.001-05:00

Disclaimer

Guess I should’ve written this before. Might’ve cut some of—if not all—the bullshxt that made me want to choke/cut/maim/defenestrate/disembowel/etc. a few muhfxckas. As they say, hindsight is 20/20. But I digress.
This is The (Infamous) Life of (The Notorious) Mz. Ren, The (infamous) Life for short and my blog for even shorter. Name(s) aside, the important thing here is that this is my shxt where I talk about whatever the eff I feel like which includes but is definitely not limited to:
♥ Me and my quote unquote (infamous) life
♥ your face if you annoy me
♥ random things that go through my head
♥ my abnormal friends and subnormal family
etc. etc.; yada, yada, ya; blah blah blah and ad nauseum.
Unless otherwise noted, the views expressed in this blog are mine and mine alone. You don’t have to like it—and you won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t. Trust. You do, however, have to respect it. If you feel as though you can’t comply, please, don’t say shxt. Just Alt + F4 off my shxt and don’t come back. It’s that simple. Recklessness and disrespect will not be tolerated. However, should you let your disrespectfully reckless ass figuratively show, here’s a couple of things that you need to know:
1) I have a great many weapons at my disposal should you choose to go to war with me. My attitude; extensive and rather colorful vocabulary; a short fuse and
2) your IP address
Remember that.
Not so idle threats and jokes aside, The (Infamous) Life is for entertainment purposes only, and, in case you didn’t know, it’s for my entertainment. But feel free to enjoy.
♥

“I Got the Keys to the Crib and Ain’t Nobody Home”

2010-03-02T00:16:00.001-05:00

Well…that’s not exactly true. The parental is here, but she’s about to leave in an hour or so, leaving Boogie and myself to fend for ourselves in Chez Ren for the night. But I don’t count Boogie as a person. I consider her to be a vessel that a demon known as “14 Going on 27 and a Half” is using as a host. Y’know, kinda like Rihanna and that thing that’s air-quotes “conspicuously” “hidden” inside of her forehead.
I kid; I joke with you, sheesh! Y’all Rihanna stans better pack it the eff up and not come at me reckless. I have not the time nor the will to deal with you and your foolishness. I’m in one of those moods where I’ll cuss yo’ simple ass out and keep it pushin’.
*side-eye*
Anyway, how goes it y’all? Did you figure out what song I got today’s title from? No? I didn’t expect you too, son was a one hit, no wonder. But that’s neither here nor there, how the heck have y’all been? Not that, y’know, any of y’all ever communicate with me via TweetBoard or leave me comments. It’s all good though. I don’t like none of y’all no way. Non-blog commenting ass…
Again, I joke. Y’all know I love y’all. Well, most of y’all anyway. Some of y’all I could and do do without. Speaking of love…I miss mine, which makes me sad which makes me annoyed and that in turn pisses me the fxck off. I’m a sad/annoyed/pissed off individual because as of 8:07 PM, March 1st, I haven’t spoken to Him since Valentines Day. Every time I try to reach Him, I get no answer. Over the past two weeks I’ve sent five or six txt messages and I broke my promise to myself to not call Him a little while ago.
This isn’t fair and I hate it. In case you weren’t aware—and you wouldn’t be unless I personally told you: six months.
That’s how long I went without talking to him, hearing his voice. Six months where I didn’t have a chance to say “I love you”, least of all “I love you too”. Six months of dreaming of all the things I still haven’t had the chance to say. Six months of me being unable to say His name.
I finally got a chance to…hell, I don’t know. I just know that I’m blessed to have whatever this is. I also know that I hate being in this sad/annoyed/pissed off state. It’s worse than being in Michigan. Let it marinate, you’ll get it in time. I hope. I don’t know about the mental capacity of some of y’all.
Ugh. Now I’m sittin’ here, pen(cil) to the pad, thinkin’ about what’s coming up on the tenth of this month, what it means to me and wishing it was Him every time my phone rings and UGH. I ain’t got time for this shxt. I’m about to throw the phone across the room because for one, fleetingly brief moment, I allowed myself to think it was Him calling. Ugh. Grr. Boo. Stupid Blockbuster calling about some stupid movie. Hmph.
…well, speak of the devil that resides in Ms. Fenty’s gargantuan cranium. This time it’s actually Quan. I shouldn’t pick up the phone, should let this bxtch ring through to voicemail.
*sigh*
I should, but I won’t.
*answers the phone*
♥

I’m Out of My Mind. Come and Chase Me?

2010-02-23T23:22:00.001-05:00

If you shouldn’t run with scissors, you definitely shouldn’t run with Hedge Clippers…

Well. This is about as awkward as any one of Sarah Palin’s speeches. I’ve been tryin’ to come up with something relevant, irreverent and sufficiently sarcastic to open this post with, but I’m drawing a ridiculously large blank as I copy these words from my mini Top Flight legal pad.
Now, y’all should know me by now. I am the reigning Queen of Sarcasm, able to serve subtle if I so choose shade with the best of them because I am the best of them. Yet here I am. Wielding my mechanical pencil as my scepter, trying to command the words to come forth and do my queenly bidding. However; mine subjects are proving to be disloyal as they continue to revolt. The only thing I’m gettin’ is a royal headache.
*sigh*
So, if we count that as my introduction, where should I begin? Hmm…
*thinks it over*
Ah. I guess I should get the stupid girly shxt out the way so I don’t have time to think about it as I continue writing this post. Cuz see, if I do that, y’all might sit back and be like
”Damn man. Ren’s gone soft because she’s in love. Where’s the sarcasm? The rudeness? The cuss words with “x” in place of the vowel that would make the word complete?”
Because:

1) I may be head over heels, my heart beats faster when He says my name, the reason behind Him calling me Lala makes me smile my “Asian”—(^_^)—smile but
2) I’ll have you know that I have not gone completely soft because
3) I’ll still x out my vowels and cuss yo’ ass out. It’s nothin’ to me.

All that aside though, I really miss Him. I haven’t talked to Q since V-day and I can’t get in touch with Him and I just…
FaceBook is on some other shxt I tell you. Yes, I did indeed just change the subject without a witty, random or sarcastic segue. Is that a problem for you? Anyway, back to the Book of Face.
I was trying to change my name to Egypt Sean Cotton because it makes me smile, but every time that I tried to do it, I would get hit with this message. Discouraged, I looked at my list of friends and, annoyed, I wrote the following status

and received the following comments

*looks at clock*
Yeah…I’m bored with this. I’m about to go reread Percy Jackson and The Olympians book four: The Battle of The Labyrinth, write another blog, wait for a phone call that’s not going to come because I’m lame like that and…who knows what else. I’m gone.
For now.

Wholeheartedly I’ma Go Where I Be

2010-02-19T23:09:00.001-05:00

I’d be a liar if I told you that I didn’t have a lot to say right now, but guess what everyone? I’m not in a good mood at the moment. Which is, y’know, nothing new, but go with me anyway. You see, I’m not the cause of my annoyance, not this time. It’s a combination of a lot of things. For example

♥ The stupidity and assumptions of people are really starting to piss me off
♥ The Parental Unit is currently receiving rave reviews for her role as Power Hungry Dictator in the ongoing production of The (Infamous) Life: The LauRen/Ren/Elle Carter Story
♥ My retainer is reminding me of why I haven’t worn this piece of shxt for five months as it irritates my gums
♥ Percy Jackson and The Olympians: The Lighting Thief was a terrible movie that ruined one of my favorite book series and Greek Mythology. What I’m about to say will mean absolutely nothing to you if you’re not up on ancient Greek lore, but the story took place in the summer time. When Percy, Annabeth and Grover went to The Underworld, that bxtch Persephone wasn’t supposed to be there. That was just one cause of annoyance because that whole movie was just…ugh.
♥ I fell off of my roof—don’t say shxt, I’m warning you
♥ The Sperm Donor is scheduled to pick The Sibling and I up in the morning so he can ease his conscience by playing part-time dad and
♥my mp3 player is dying and I can’t find the cord to charge it

Expounding on any and/or all of the above would result in a rant the likes of which the blogosphere has never seen. Y’all don’t want that. More specifically, your eyes don’t want that and jeepers creepers, I don’t wanna be the cause of your peepers handing you a pink slip that says “Bxtch, boo, bye: we quit”.
Outside of earlier, I haven’t been able to update the blog in a while due to someone someone *side-eye to the parental as she lays on the couch reading my copy of PJATO: The Battle of The Labyrinth* trying to control my access to the computer. On top of that, a certain company *side eye to those fxcktards at Dell* has been bullin’ in regards to the fixage of my laptop. I’ve had to conduct the majority of my Internet browsing via my Wii. Now, as awesome as it is to surf the web from the comfort of my couch, that shxt sux.
I can log onto Blogger but I can’t blog, the same goes for my blog on OnSugar. I’m not too sure about typing one up as a note on FaceBook, but I’m not about to chance it.
I can’t blog but I can order a pizza from Dominos. What kind of shxt is that?
*rolls eyes*
I feel as though I’m goin’ crazy…er with all the stupid shxt that’s goin’ on right now and to be honest, the only thing that’s keepin’ me sane is thinkin’ about the conversation I had on Valentine’s Day with Him. Made me realize just how much I miss it. Talking to Q for hours, hearing his voice…I just missed Him.
He gave me some really…what’s an adjective worthy of this situation? Good doesn’t cut it. Hmm. Q told me something astounding, amazing, remarkable, fantastic, sensational and effing great that night, and I’m really looking forward to it, even though I know that I shouldn’t be. What he said is enough to make me smile randomly throughout the day and thinking about it now has me with the “Asian” smile (^_^) on my face. The last few times that I brought something like this up in one of my blogs I jinxed it and it didn’t happen and after almost two years, it’s finally time to make it happen. So…here’s to hope.
Anyway, I’m about to kickback, work on this deadline of mine, watch Criminal Minds, eat a few of the sugar cookies I baked earlier and just chill, but before I do, let me hit ya with my Tracks of The Day.

First up, my industry husband in my head Johnta Austin's demo of
"One Time for Love”
which was recorded by Ginuwine and put on his last album, the name of which escapes me as I didn’t buy or download that shxt. This track has an unfinished third verse that is on the Ginuwine version of the song, but with the slowed down tempo of the demo and Johnta’s voice, you can actually feel the song. Ginuwine’s version has more of a beat that you’d hear in a club, something that you’d dance to. Johnta’s demo is more of a song that you’d play in the bedroom, foreplay music if you will.

Next up, we’re switching gears with LA’s
”I Was Born With Headphones Attached to My Earlobes”
I’d throw up a more info link for LA, but the thing is, his name isn’t really Google friendly as I’m sure you guessed. *sigh* That’s too bad, son is nice. However, I can do this and let you listen to the MC from the Chi.

Last but most certainly not least, we have The Five One’s
”Waiting For”
I wouldn’t even know where to begin, what can I say about the COLORS? Their music bends, blends and breaks genres and…hell, just listen.

Oh, for the record…BLUE is my fav COLOR (=

The last two tracks are included on the iLLVibes Presents: Music I Wish Was on the Radio Vol. 1 mixtape presented by the crew from IV. Deffy somethin’ you should add to your collection.

Now, time for those cookies…
I’m out.
♥

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

2010-02-19T15:17:00.001-05:00

I was recently informed of some triflin’ ho shxt and I feel as though it’s my duty to share it with those who stumble across my blog and read my notes on FaceBook, especially those who live here in Lansing.
Apparently, there’s a guy on the eastside of the capital city that’s infecting hoodrats and ho’s alike with the herpes simplex virus. Now, I don’t know who he is, but I have it on good authority that there is in fact someone spreading the disease from females to female. These females are in turn spreading it to Patient Zero’s friends when they have sexual contact after the fact and they in turn give the disease to their unsuspecting significant others and so on and so forth.
I don’t know what other diseases are being spread among my peers and I’m gonna keep my thoughts about triflin’ ho shxt to myself but I will say this:
If you choose to be sexually active, be safe.
Fellas, put a condom on it. Ladies, make sure he does. Don't rely on your partner for protection, carry your own. Like I said

and at $6-$10 a pill, Valtrex doesn’t come cheap.

Be safe out there y’all.
♥

Mazel Tov; It’s a Celebration. Bxtches.

2010-02-12T23:12:00.001-05:00

Meter maids are a bunch of bitter people who delight in taking their obvious aggressions out on people who made the unfortunate mistake of not putting an extra dime in the meter. They’re about as evil as anesthesiologists and according to the karma scale that I just made up, their next life will be that of a hissing cockroach. Just thought I’d put that out there. Y’know, in case you ever wondered.
Anyway…it’s my bloggiversary!
That’s right my friends, enemies and hybrids of the two, it’s been exactly one year since The (Infamous) Life was launched out of boredom. While it’s true that I haven’t always been consistent with my writing style and posting schedule, you can see that I haven’t completely abandoned my blog and let the weeds run wild here at LauRenxExCarter on BlogSpot Way. So, to commemorate my year of inconsistent posts, criminally sane in an insane type of way ramblings that are apt to occur and my dissection of fxckery, I’m doin’ somethin’ a little different. I’m letting LauRen and Ren speak individually and for themselves, which is to say, for myself.
Before you allow yourself to think that I’m crazy…er than what I’ve shown myself to be, calm down and just go wit’ me here.
♥
Ren
The first thing you need to know is that I don’t appreciate the effin’ questions LauRen and I have received in regards to our little “arrangement”. Any other time someone kicks a concept that your puny little mind can’t comprehend you just smile, nod and subtly look at your watch, but no. Y’all wanna dig deeper and try to throw me in the box marked “DAMN, this bxtch is crazy”. I’ll have you know that I’m perfectly sane and insinuating otherwise will get you kicked in the shin. Twice.
The second thing you need to know is that there is no Sasha Fierce shxt goin’ on, meaning that there’s no demonic possession going on *slight side eye* when I’m around. Yeah, I said it, your point? …Let me stop angering Beyonce: Yaki Princess’s stans and get back to the task at hand.
The main thing that you need to know is that I’m LauRen and LauRen is me. I’m the side of Elle (get it? The first letter of her name is “L” and when you spell it out…y’all are slow, eff it) that the majority of people meet, if only at first. Why? Because, I like to be difficult, it’s fun, beside that, I’m the judge and jury of this shxt.
Once you pass the Many Trials of Ren—which include but are not limited to verbal sparring matches and dodging sarcastic barbs masterfully thrown by yours truly—then you can get to know me on a deeper, much more personal level. Maybe. However, if you are judged and found wanting, your chances of getting to know Elle are slim to helldafxcknaw. I don’t have time for nonsense in the form of weakness so I weed it out early on. I don’t like people, y’all know that. It takes a lot to get close to me for a reason.
Ah. Put you off a bit have I? Well, to avoid frightening you further—even though the it would be pretty amusing to me. I’m sick like that (= –I’ll say this and hand it back over to LauRen meaning I get to talk some more:
I, boys and girls, am but a character playing my part in this grand ol’ play called Life. My role is that of “protector”. I’m the front that gets thrown up to push people away, think of me as the hard outer shell that needs to be cracked in order to reach the fluffy, nougaty center.

LauRen aka Elle
I promise you, I’m not crazy. Don’t assume that I suffer from some mild form of a dissociative identity disorder because of the things that I’ve said and will continue to say as Ren for as long as I see fit. As she—that is to say, I—stated above, I am Ren and Ren is me. She is a living and breathing person which is why I treat her as such. We are one. We share a heart that’s been broken and mended time and time again, a body and a singular mind. The only distinction between the two of us is that which I’ve created because I like to fxck with peoples minds and can admit it.
There are those that may say that Ren is a defense mechanism and they may be right. Or, they could be wrong as Sarah Palin running for any type of public office. Only I know the truth.
Or do I?
♥

That was fun (^_^)
lol. Real talk though, I’m not crazy y’all, at least not to my standards of crazy. I’m a lot more sane than I act and that is what keeps me sane. Make sense? No? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Don’t try to understand me, it’ll save you a lot of brain cells and time that you can’t afford to waste. Now, let me throw up this track of the day and be out. I’ve got a scarf to finish crocheting. “Infamous”? No, not remotely, but this is how I spend my nights when I’m not plotting the destruction of Dell with a half empty bottle of water, a purple pen and a AA battery.
Here’s to another year.

♥

Wii Are Not the Same

2010-02-09T11:03:00.001-05:00

What it is, what it look like and the rest of those good ol'
stereotypical greetings I'm so fond of using? How be all of thee on
this cold for absolutely no reason other than it's an effing Tuesday
in February morning? Really now? Is that so? Well...whooptie doo and
hand-claps for you.
As for me, myself, LauRen, Elle and Ren--don't ask; I won't tell--a
good mood can't be found this morning. I'm sick. This would be the
part that if I were able to use my laptop or any other normal computer
I'd boldly italicize my text, change the color to hot pink and write
"really"--with all of the former text embellishing--sick. But I can't
do that right now. Partially because I'm really sick minus the text
embellishment but due mostly to the fact that I'm typing this post in
my Gmail and sending it to Blogger on my Wii from the comfort of
my living room. Yay for technology.
*sigh*
I've been sick since Sunday afternoon and actually slept through the
frickin' Super Bowl which, despite the fact that I'm no major Colts or
Saints fan, wasn't my intention. I apparently missed out on a hell of
a game which I had saved to my DirecTV DVR but The Parental Unit
decided to delete it for whatever reason. Bleh.
Speaking of Sunday, the Super Bowl and me being sick, I didn't get the
chance to type and publish the post I had written. Now is as good a
time as any to do so I suppose.
*shrugs*
♥

Black and Gold Bottles Like I'm Pro, New Orleans

But shawty I'm far from a Saint...

*sigh*
What it is, what it be like and what it do y'all? How art thou on this
Super Bowl Sunday? I'm sure that by now you've placed your bets on
your respective teams victory by now and are no doubt thinking up fun
and creative ways to blow your winnings when the Colts beat the
Saints.
Oh. You thought that I was a Saints fan based on the title? Did you
not peep my italicized, 8pt, hot pink subtitle? I am FAR from a Saint
and before you get it twisted, I'm not some little filly trotting
after the Colts either. Nope. Football is another one of those things
that this "Pretty Girl" doesn't really give a four letter word that
starts with eff and ends with a youseekay [three letters; one word]
about. I'm more of a college sports fan to tell you the truth. Beside
that, I won't genuinely be interested in the Super Bowl until the
Lions--yes, THE Lions; THOSE Lions--manage to make it. Not cuz I plan
to root for the home team but because...
Nah, not even gonna do it.
I had planned to insinuate that it would be a sign of the Apocalypse,
but after last time with Karma-Karma-Karma-Karma-Karma Kameleon (she
comes and goes) I didn't think that it would be such a great idea.
Despite what you may wish to believe, I'm rather concerned about my
soul, thank thee kindly. Hmph.
Anyway, The (Infamous) One Elle Carter is currently in youth church,
half listening to the lesson and half thinking about the chorus line
of people that are currently doing the Can-Can, Heel Toe, Harlem Shake
and the COGIC Shuffle on the very last of my good nerves.
Once more, people are coming at me six different types of reckless
because they wish to believe that everything I say and do is a
personal attack on them. It's not. For one, I honestly don't care one
way or the other but for two, I don't have the time for the
subterfuge. Sorry to burst your ever increasing bubbles people, but it
is what it is and that's what it be. I apologize for the fact that
you thought the things that I say were subliminals aimed at you, twas
not the case, let me assure you. You see, had I wished to embarrass
any of you, I would've called you out and done so. But as I didn't, my
intentions weren't to offend.
Just wanted to put it out there and let it be known. I don't have the
patience to be bothered with this foolishness much longer.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Boogie just told the class that I threw her
into a wall and I need to set the record straight.
♥
Ugh. I'm stil not feeling well =(
Before I forget, my one year blogiversary (it's a word now, shut up)
is coming up on Friday and I've got absolutely nothing planned. I
can't shoot a video without my laptop and since that piece of shxt is
dead and those bastardtardmonkeytards at Dell are still being
buttheads when it comes to getting my ish fixed, I won't be able to
shoot for a while. I'm trying to think up a post but so far I've got
nothing so we shall see what I can come up with by Friday. While I
think up a master plan or at the very least an acceptable blog post,
I'm gonna recline in this here chair and pray that the room stops
spinning.

Note: the room is still spinning but I decided to come over here to the desktop and embellish my text anyway. Now I feel really sick

“O Frabjous Day. Callooh. Callay.”

2010-02-06T23:49:00.001-05:00

No matter where the eff I go and no matter what the hell I’m doin’, I can’t seem to escape Owl City and their hypnotic irkfest of a song “Fireflies”. I’ve heard the song so much in the past week that I almost believe that the earth turns slowly. Which it doesn’t FYI. I can’t remember off the top of the dome but I’m pretty confident in the fact that we orbit around the sun at about 1,000 miles per hour. Not slow at all. Fxckfaces.
And am I the only one that’s listened to the lyrics of that song cuz I mean really. It’s about as nonsensical as as Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky” and almost as bad as LFO’s “Summer Girls”. But twas not brillig and the slivey toves this time around folks and there was no gyring and gimbling in the wabe although those Summer Girls—y’know, the ones that wear Abercrombie and Fitch and have been gone since that summer, that summer—made the mome raths outgrabe. Nope. This time it’s butterflies, disillusion, sock hops and a whole bunch of random ish. A friend of mine (okay, it was me) was joking around and said that this song is probably some brainwashing, programming type shxt from the (insert gasp…here) Illuminati. The good people at The Vigilant Citizen may wish to investigate.
[*baby side-eye*]
Anyway, rant aside, ya girl is not in a good gotdang mood right now.
I’m sitting in the backseat of the car while The Sibling is in my effing seat putting footprints on the windshield and singing recklessly, horribly off-key and inching closer and closer to getting choked out by me as we wait for The Egg Donor to get out of Kroger. Add that to the fact that I just got done spending time with The Sperm Donor very much against my will earlier, it’s east to see why I’m enjoying the vision of me stuffing the smelly socks that she threw at me down Boogie’s throat.
*sigh*
The Egg Donor thinks that at 20 she can control my life and The Sperm Donor decided that…hell, I don’t know. I just know that he’s been making more and more frequent appearances in mine (infamous) life and I don’t have the time. I’m past the age where he can influence my life with his fatherly advice and concern. Don’t need it. Don’t want it. When I did want it, I didn’t get it. He was too busy playing house with that big bodied broad backed bxtch (extra points for an alliterative insult) El Jefe to attend to his two youngest children. So now that he’s been kicked out the house or whatever the hell happened between them since he hasn’t told us and I had to find out the news from my brother (who’s deployed overseas at the moment might I add) he decides it’s time to remember us. But he couldn’t when he missed my high school graduation. And my open house.
Oh. Yeah, I’ve got daddy issues.
Speaking of daddy—not that I ever called this nigga ‘daddy’…*cough*—issues, TSD showed up and interrupted the ~~booluvin’~~ conversation I was havin’ with Q.
Y’all don’t know how much I missed Him! When I heard His voice on the line I automatically smiled as that stupid girly side of me came out and I got shy as I said my hello’s. That loser’s voice just makes me…ugh. I smile when I hear it and have been known to babble like an idiot if he says the right thing and he’s quite fond of saying the right thing. The twenty or so minutes that we spent on the phone was not enough time to talk and I’m hoping that I’ll be able to talk to him again before he heads back out.
*rolls eyes*
Anyway, The Egg Donor is back and she drives like a bat fresh out of hell, so tracks of the day animout.
First up is “Daydreamin’” by Lupe Fiasco and Jill Scott

”Stop Fuckin’ Wit’ Me” by Lil John and The Eastside Boys since TED is runnin’ off at the mouth about absolutely nothing right now and I have to actually listen to her shxt since I left my mp3 player at home

And since I’m thinkin’ about Him
”The Reason” by Hoobastank

♥

Just So You Know; You’ll Never Know

2010-02-02T16:54:00.001-05:00

Happy Birthday Auntie Ria and Leema Bean!

The blogger formally (and currently) known as Ren is not in a good gotdang mood right now.
Saturday night or Sunday morning, the space bar on my laptop broke and I was forced to resort to this to perform basic typing tasks on my my personal computer. Earlier today, the charger to said laptop said “bxtch, I quit you” and committed suicide before my very eyes.
It’s not that I’m mad that my laptop decided to hand me a figurative pink slip even though that puts a serious cramp in my plans. Nope. I have a three year warranty on that piece of shxt . What’s making me grind my teeth as I sit here at the family’s desktop computer is the fact that I’ll have to deal with these fxckfacedbastardtardmonkeynutswallowers (one word) at Dell. The last time I was on the phone with them it was for three hours, got bounced from one non-english speaking operator to the next and at the end of the call, my problem didn’t get resolved. Then today, I was told that they were closed and subsequently hung up on. Ugh. Fxckers.
Bet this shxt wouldn’t happen if I had a Mac.
Anyway, I’m irked as all hell right now so I’m not even going to jump through the usual hoops or ring or blow the bells and whistles. Don’t have time. I’m too busy plotting the destruction of Dell. So, get into it and peep the screen shots that I’ll be providing below.

♥

Extreme Boredom

plus Karma Kameleon

Equals this

I’ll be back with the story behind the whole BlackPlanet thing at a later date. I’m about to call Dell customer service again. Wish me luck.

♥

“I’m Absolute and They’re All Obsolete”

2010-01-29T15:30:00.001-05:00

I have been loafin’ like a bad word that I’m choosing to abstain from using at the moment when it comes to updating the blog. This is the part where I’d ask for your forgiveness but if you’re reading this, there is a very real chance that your approval doesn’t matter to me so why would your forgiveness? Don’t get it twisted just because I haven’t updated in a bit, I’m still me. Hmph.
So anyway, a lot has happened since I last slid a double shot of Ren down the bar to serve the patrons of the blogosphere and I have no clue where to begin. Hmm…Eeny, Meanie, miney…
ah, here we go.
I absolutely loathe, detest, despise and downright hate people sometime.
Yesterday when I was in search of fxckery on twitter out of boredom, I got involved in one of the most ignorant, pointless debates that I’ve ever been involved in.

Light skin vs. Dark skin.
*sigh*
I fully intend to speak on this one day and soon, but not until I do some more research on the subject because I’ll be damned if I sound stupid. So, before I move on to the next—no Jay Z— peep my response to her after she told me that “As a light-skinned woman, you were handpicked to succeed”

Hand picked to succeed? Really? So you think that my skin tone is going to be what determines my success level? Incorrect. Any amount of success or failure that I obtain will be based STRICTLY on my merits as an individual. I for one don’t buy into this whole light skin is better than dark skin or vice versa bullshxt. If anything, I’m better than you because of who I am and don’t you ever forget that. Stop trying to blame your failures as a human on me and those around me and man the fxck up. “You’ve had it easy because of your light skin” Bxtch please, suck and choke on a dick because you sound stupid as all hell right now.

Her response was to call me an uppity house nigger. Then she asked me which shade of men I get myself involved with and insinuated that I date light skinned men to keep the tradition of dark skinned oppression alive. I was sitting there looking at my laptop and wishing that I could wrap my hands around her neck and choke some sense into her when I told her that I don’t just date black men. She came out the side of her virtual neck calling me a light skinned race traitor and before she could continue I told her:
By no means am I a traitor to the race. My race is human.
Then I blocked her and went about my damn bidness.
*rolls eyes*
In other news, since I posted this guess what happened?
Give up? Well, for the easily defeated and those without a decent dose of imagination, the answer is

Yes, that He.

Bleh. I can’t focus, too much on my mind. So, consider this part one.

My Conscience Called in Sick Again

2010-01-22T23:18:00.001-05:00

Which explains why I’m posting the following video and why we’re all about to go to hell for it. See, it’s a Friday night and as usual, I’m stuck here at the crib. I just got off the phone with my Twubby who’s gonna get kicked in the eye for making fun of my speech patterns and calling me yellow and I’m now chillin’ out maxin, relaxin’ all cool in my room and ruling over my queendom as the Phresh Princess of Lansing and The Surrounding Areas. Needless to say, Your Royal Adorableness, The (Infamous) One I is bored as all hell. So, I decided to snoop around that rancid cesspool of fxckery filled clips known as YouTube and I found…well, you take a look at it.

I was barely fifteen seconds in when I started shedding clothes because I could feel the flames of Hell licking at my soul as I watched in awe and thunderstruck amazement. This isn’t the first time that I’ve seen Pedro, no ma’am, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen him…dance and to be honest? This shxt left me gobsmacked.
Look, I’m not hatin’ on the physically handicapped. I don’t have the time nor the patience to deal with all the people who would come for my head if I were to do that, no. I’m not even hatin’ on Pedro because it had to take guts—why did I wish to be bad and say “but not legs”? Bad Ren, bad—to do that and my quote unquote able bodied ass isn’t even willing to do it. As a matter of fact, I’m not hating at all. I’m just a rather bored individual who happened to stumble upon this video during my foray for fxckery earlier. Don’t waste the brain cells that you can’t afford to waste getting mad at me. Instead, watch Pedro check up on it. If you actually allow yourself to listen to the lyrics of the song as he dances and permit yourself to wonder just what one could grab on him, you’re going to hell and I along with you because I wanted to know the exact same shxt.
♥

“The Importance of Being Earnest? Who He Be?”

2010-01-19T15:02:00.001-05:00

Before you even allow the thought to cross your mind, I am quite aware that TIOBE is a play written by Oscar Wilde and I would like to inform you all that this is not a quote by me. No, I happen to know a little something about the plot and wouldn’t say anything as ignorant as that which I overheard and stole to use as a title. What do you take me as?

Hola mi amigos y…uh, whatever the Spanish word for “enemies” is. What’s bueno in your barrio’s Holmes? Holmes’s? Hmm…oh, what’s that? Pookie got knocked? Again?
Ay carrumba.
As for me and my rather fantabulous, infamous with a side of notorious self, I am…not in a good mood. At all. Which is ironic considering how this all got started. I honestly don’t feel like goin’ into it right now, but last week I heard from my lil big bro JB who is, in case you aren’t an original lurker of the blog, His natural born brother.
We did a bit of catching up and, long-ish story short, I was encouraged to call Him. So I did. Twice.
The first time I called I was fighting back tears. As His outgoing message came on, I realized just how much I miss Him and I was stumbling over my words as I left a message hoping that He’d get back to me soon.
[I’m still waiting but if Q needs time He can take it. *shrugs*]
Ah, you were astute enough to pick up on the fact that there’s a lot that I’m not saying right now? Well then, gold stars and handclaps for you.
*sigh*
=/

I’ll be back with some ill natured, bad tempered, smart mouthed, notorious infamy next post, I promise. Can’t have people thinkin’ that I’ve gone soft because I miss this nigga.
Because I might have. And I definitely do.

=(

Don’t Call Me Up When the Snow Comes Down

2010-01-12T10:42:00.001-05:00

Day Twelve

What it is ho; wassup?
Now, y’all know that I’m ready, willing and able to keep the “Some Cut” references going—btw, shouts to Kenny for getting it stuck in my head all weekend—but I’m bored and can’t be bothered at the moment. Although the thought of twisting Trillville’s lyrics and talking about a different kind of “cutting” excites me for some strange and most likely sick reason. I hadn’t even intended to write an introduction to this one, so let’s get into it, shall we?

♥

I think that there’s only one thing in this world that I hate more than (actual) people and y’all know how much I despise, detest, dislike, loathe and generally can’t stand people. My hatred (no, not really) for them is deeper than rap. It goes beyond Gucci Mane’s beef with Carmex and even further than the feud with common sense and originality that all the Barbie’s in Nicki Minaj’s dream house have bee locked in ever since Scotty beamed ‘em up.
I hate the winter. More specifically; everything that comes with it. Snow; ice; the general cold; the niggas that are on the hunt since this is cuffin’ season; shoveling and putting down salt; etc. etc.; ad nauseum and blah de frickin’ blah.
*sigh*
This is terrible, absolutely appalling. I can’t motivate myself to keep writing in the same vein. I was planning on doing a hilarious in my own mind diatribe about my utter loathing of the winter and most things snow related by resurrecting my foxy and whole lotta woman wintertime alter ego Caramel Macchiato, the baddest motha—shut yo’ mouth—that Lansing and the surrounding areas have ever seen. However, my mind isn’t letting me write, direct, produce, score and star in my own blaxploitation flick right now so that’ll have to wait.
I’ve been slackin’ wit’ the postage for about a week now and I don’t wanna give some of you the satisfaction of an under 500 word post by me, so, here we go with some random ish that I want to know:
1) How do you twice remove a family member and how do I nominate members of my family for singular removal?
2) If you give a mouse a cookie, what right does that same mouse have to ask you for a glass of milk? Does it not realize that it is indeed a mouse and siccing a cat on it would put an immediate end to any and all dairy cravings that this particular rodent may have? The same goes for a pig with a pancake. Look here my little porcine friend, I could very easily have your presence ended and your carcass smoked over a nice Hickory wood fire. The only creatures that could get what they want in regards to food would be a Moose with a muffin and a Bear with a brownie based solely on the fact that they are indeed a Moose and a Bear.
3) Ethical treatment of animals? Uh…by who’s code of ethics are we treating Bessie the cow and friends because it most certainly isn’t Ren’s.
4) If my grandma and your grandma are sitting by the fire, where are we and why are we singing a song about it?
5) Daylight broke. The tallyman came to tally his bananas. Did Harry Belafonte ever go home?

Twelve days down, three hundred and fifty three to go.
♥

Thou Shalt Not Wear it if it’s Not in Thine Size

2010-01-06T10:36:00.001-05:00

Before anyone thinks that I’m goin’ after plus sized chicks, let the record show that I myself am a size 18 and I don’t care who likes it. Dress size aside, chances are good to better than great that I’m a better person than you so don’t think that you can judge me on my waist size.

Commandment Two:
If the shirt does not fit, you must ah…QUIT tryin’ to squeeze yo’ ass into it

Looking like ten pounds of oranges stuffed into a five pound sack of flour is not a good look.
Ladies, can we please start wearing clothes that fit our bodies and body types? Please?
Yes, that graphic tee may just be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. It may even go with those two sizes too small shoes that you just had to get because they were on sale and they happened to be the last pair in the known world, but sweetie, if you know that shirt is four sizes too small, don’t even think about tryin’ it on. You can stop wit’ the little lies that you tell yourselves too and don’t sit there and act like you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about because I know that you do. Tryin’ to psych yourself out wit’ some “Well, I wear a 2x and that’s a little big on me, maybe I’ve been buying my clothes too big. Maybe I can fit this XL shirt and pull it off.”
The last thing you wanna do is go Hulk in the dressing room at Rainbow and rip through some cheaply made t-shirt.
Stop. That. Shxt.
Matter of fact, if you wear anything over a size 12, stay the fxck outta Charlotte Russe, Wet Seal, most Deb’s and Dots and don’t even think about tryin’ to find an outfit in your size or a pot of gold at Rainbow. Your best friend may be a size six and can comfortably fit all the clothes in there, but sweetie, you can’t. Don’t even try. The end result will most likely have you looking like you’re a bakery display case with the muffin top and rolls that you’ll have on display in a too tight outfit from some store that carries clothes designed for people half your size. Instead, you should help your bestie pick out an outfit for her then head on over to the nearest Torrid, Lane Bryant or Avenue and find something for you to wear.

Thou Shalt Keep it Sexy

2010-01-06T10:27:00.001-05:00

So shall it be written, so it better be done.

I know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times since the first, but let me reiterate for added effect:
It’s 2010.
It’s a new decade. A new era in this, your life and times. It’s another chance for you to get it right and get it tight Ms. New Booty.
I’ve been paying attention to y’all as of late, and honestly, this ish needs to stop. As I already stated, it’s 2010. That means it’s time for all that lame, last decade shxt to come to an end. It’s not cute, it’s not cool and it’s not kosher boo-boo; no. Please, for the sake of humanity, allow me to upgrade you. No Beyonce.
Enter my fabulous self with The Ren Commandments (no sacrilege), an informative and insightful guide to a better you according to me.
I’m not about to act like I’m an expert or an authority on the subject of upgrading lives, I wouldn’t lie to y’all like that. However; I can provide the common sense that a few of you are lacking and a few tips and tricks that can aid you in becoming a better, more successful, quite possibly infamous in your own right, individual. But only if you let me. You could choose to stop reading here, but it’s 2010. Why be regular if you don’t have to be?

♥

Ladies, this first one is for y’all.

Commandment One
Thou shalt keep it sexy in 2010 and every year after

I’m tired of my gender and my race being downgraded on a regular and too constant basis. I want you silly bxtches—said out of love and because I’m not willing to exert the energy necessary to learn your names—to know that you make life hard for the non-reckless females with their heads on straight like myself.
Stop that shxt and keep it sexy!
You know that old adage, “clothes don’t make the man” or in this case the woman? It’s true; they don’t. True sexiness doesn’t lie in what you do or (for those of you who are fond of being half-naked) don’t wear.
Sexiness is a state of mind that effects the way you talk, the way you carry yourself and the way you act or behave. You don’t have to be that mythical perfect ten or show skin all the time to be considered sexy sweetie, whoever told you that shxt lied.
You need to think sexy thoughts to talk sexily. Let me break this down a little further.
Confidence is what makes or breaks you as an individual, a sexy one or otherwise. It’s the very heart of sexiness. Confidence is a thought process that even the mental midgets out there can master. It’s not just the belief in your own abilities, but it’s also a trusting relationship that you have with yourself. You can’t be confident in yourself, your abilities or your sexiness if you don’t trust yourself. It’s impossible.
Talking sexy doesn't’ necessarily have to do with your tone or inflection. It’s more in what you say, when you say it and how you say it. That being said, let it be known that raunchiness does not equal sexiness. There’s both a time and a place for that and I strongly suggest that you figure out when that is. Walkin’ round talkin’ about lickin’, stickin’, suckin’ and fxckin’ all the time isn’t ladylike, it’s not sexy, it’s deffy not cute and it could get you labeled a ho. Don’t let the niggas in your hood or music videos fool you, ho’s are not sexy sweetie, they’re just ho’s, little more than sex toys for anyone willing to play with them.
Walk like you got you some business girl!
Yes, the improper English is necessary. Keep your head up and a smile on your lips when you do ya lil “I’m sexy and yes I’m the shxt and I won’t allow you to tell me otherwise” strut mama. Work it; gon’ head wit’ ya bad self. Walk with an attitude, just make sure it’s not a stuck up or stank one. That’s not cute and it’ll detract from your sexiness ladies, trust me. Maybe it’s just the people that I hang around, but I know for a fact that I’m not the only one who fantasizes about pushing stank ho’s down three flights of steps. (I’m joking…*cough*) You ever seen someone after they’ve…“fallen” down some stairs? Yeah, that’s not the look.
Preserve your sexy and keep it fresh, not stank.
Behavior is everything sweetie, everything. If you act like a ho, eleven times out of ten, you’ll be a ho, same goes for being a bxtch. You can be aloof if you like, but standoffishness isn’t generally held to be sexy so find that happy medium and do what you do. Act sexy and you’ll be that, trust me.
Let’s recap.
Sexiness is a state of being, it’s confidence. it has nothing to do with the clothes that you wear or the lack thereof. Sexiness is the way you talk. it’s the things you say, when you say them and how you say them. Sexiness is the way you carry yourself and can transform an admittedly average chick into a dime even if it doesn’t give her a slim waist, cute face and a big behind. Sexiness is in your thoughts, your attitude and your actions so ladies, would you please stop embarrassing yourselves, other females and all of humanity and keep it sexy?

♥

We Have a Dilemma on Our Hands Folks

2010-01-05T14:45:00.001-05:00

I’m not even about to hit y’all with one of my elaborate, well thought out and funny if I do say so myself and I do say so introductions today. I’m not inspired in the least and I feel as though my brilliance is wasted on the majority of y’all. One of the only one’s who truly understands me and my weird, pseudo sadomasochism—used as a counterproductive coping mechanism although chains excite me— is Karma Kameleon. I’m almost positive that you’re reading this Miss K, consider this your new nickname. Kthanx.
Anyway, been a while since I’ve done my “video analysis” so, let’s get it.
♥

World Star Hip Hop is worse than You-Tube when it comes to fxckery filled videos. Peep the vanilla tinged example below.

A few things…

1) I bet a dollars worth of Canadian quarters that you can get out of a vending machine but can’t put in a vending machine that the fellas who happen to come through on any sort of basis thought that this vid was gonna be somethin’ like the one I posted here. Ha, fooled ya.
2) Little Becky Sue has one of the most unfortunate shapes I have ever seen, deffy not Phat Girl Phresh.
3) I spy with my pretty brown eyes a good seven teddy bears in her room and about twenty-five hangers in her closet. Where are all of her clothes? And why does she look like a white version of Winnie the Pooh in that unfortunately small t-shirt?
4) She chose to…you really can’t call this dancing but I’m too lazy to wrack my brain searching for adjectives, dance—*side eye*—to Nelly and Kelly Rowland’s “Dilemma” and I wonder if she sent this to some guy that she had a “dilemma”" with and he in turn laughed his ass off at her uncoordinated self and sent it to his friends.
5) Yes. During that five second stretch of 0:45-0:50 she was indeed trying to twerk. I know you probably couldn’t tell, but yerp, that’s what it was. And yeah, she was krumping for a good ten seconds there too.
6) I’m gonna need for this chick to sweat it out to the oldies with Richard Simmons and hit up Twerk Team before she ever tries to shake her ass in front of a camera again. I don’t care if it’s a disposable 35mm one from Walgreens with no flash, if it’s a camera she needs not look so…shxt, like that if she’s in front of it.
7) For a moment there I thought that she was in the throws of a grand mal seizure then I realized that she was just bent over her bed, documenting her severe case of noassitol. Here’s to hoping that they find a cure so Becky Sue doesn’t have to get Silicone injections to feel good about herself.
8) Anyone else notice that she did indeed get “gangsta” when Nelly said it?

That’s all boys and girls, I can’t think up something inappropriate and rude to finish this post with so I’ll allow you to fill in the blanks yourself.
Don’t give me that. Thinking will do you a world of good. Go ahead; stimulate that cerebral cortex.
♥
Update: …I found her on YouTube. I’ll now take this time to go weep for the youth of America. If you’ll excuse me.

Day Four: I Write Sins AND Tragedies

2010-01-04T15:22:00.001-05:00

It’s much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality

Yo ho, yo ho—*points*—how goes it me hearties? The cold making you shiver down to your timbers and say “argh”? Suck that shxt up. You can’t be a sailor on the good ship Lollipop and act like a pussy. I’ll make you walk the plank, keep it up.
As for me, I’m coolin’ in the Captain’s Quarters, tryin’ to chart my course for the day and wishing that I never did the pirate thing. I’ve got the “It’s my ship and I’m the captain” line from Eve’s “Satisfaction” on loop in my head right now.
I know you’re hopin’ that I rest so you can breathe…
Ugh.
Other than being mentally assaulted by Eve over production by (I think) Swizz Beats circa 2K2 and chillin’, I just got done arranging a meeting with Miss Maria (she makes me call her that *rolls eyes*) to set up a writing schedule. 2010 is the year of The Turner High Diaries, my “black” or “urban”—Lawd how I hate those terms—book series for teens and all those who enjoy a good read.
The THD’s are centered around four best friends who happen to be cousins and their junior and senior years in high school. If you’ve stalked the blog for any amount of time or are fond of clicking my various links, you’ve already been introduced to Cam&&Essence, but you’ve yet to meet Leslie, Monica and Rayne (who’s name was just recently changed back after the events of this summer. Just seemed…fitting) or any of the other characters in the Turnerverse. There’s Hope, Faith, Victory, Meghan, Julian, Jarrod and Nashell, Jasmine and James who briefly appear in the preview of Cam&&Essence that I have up. Then there’s Markus…
*sigh*
In case you didn’t think I was vain enough to do it, all of my lead characters are modeled after your truly, meaning they figuratively shxt on you and Bella Swan. Vampires; bah.
Eh, I’ll blog somethin’ later on, I need to get up and clean.

Four days down, three hundred and sixty-one to go.

Young, Energetic, (In)famous but Don’t Really Sweat it

2010-01-03T13:15:00.000-05:00

Day Three

Hey there Saturday night sinners and Sunday morning ~~fakers~~ saints. How be thee? Were you on time for Sunday School after you downed four shots of Tequila and an apple martini, danced semi-nude on the bar at your local night club then gathered up your goons and goblin lookin’ gurlies and headed to IHOP for the New York Cheesecake pancakes? You were? Well dang!
I stayed home and watched Doctor Who wit’ the parental unit while I did some more work on the hooded blanket that I’m crocheting and I didn’t manage to make it in time for class. Then again, I haven’t been to Sunday School in a good…oh, I’d say ten years and I honestly have no intention of going back anytime soon. I’m (perhaps unlike some of y’all. It’s not my place to judge) in contact with my God on a regular basis. It’s not just a one day a week type of thing for me. Even if I’m not in my Word like I should be, I pray daily.
*pauses to pick up and collect the jaws that may have dropped*
I see that one day soon I’m gonna have to explain my faith and my stance on religion. I’m not about to sit here and call myself a Christian because you could easily look back at any of my previous posts and call me on my hypocritical, non-Christian like bullshxt. I’m not about to call myself “Spiritual” either because I see that as a cop-out of sorts. No, I won’t call myself a Christian and continue to run my life and my site the way that I do. I’d be no better than the “church folx” that I despise and I can’t have that.
But ladies, gents, fellas who look like ladies and vice versa, that’s not here and I’m not going there. Not right now. I just took a batch of Snickerdoodle’s out of the oven—yes, I crochet and I bake. The (Infamous) One is slightly domesticated—and I fully intend to smash these with an ice cold glass of milk.
*Proceeds to do so and burps quietly*
Excuse me.
So anyway, ya girl is chillin’ out, maxin’, relaxin’ all cool and living the life as Your Adorable Marvelousness, The Phresh Princess of Lansing.
I’m currently listening to music as I half watch an epi of Cold Case and reminiscing about the past.
Halfcrazy…
[I’ll upload and post the song in a bit, DivShare is actin’ ass right now smh]

Years ago, back when my on again, off again boyfriend and I were off again, this song was me and Jay. One quick, sweet kiss was almost enough to ruin a lifelong friendship. Almost.
Before things got too weird between us, I confronted him by telling him that he was not that great of a kisser (slight lie) and if things didn’t get back to the way they were between us quick, fat and in a gotdamn hurry, I’d have to punch him in the throat (truth). We never kissed again, but we did indeed make up. Shortly after, Jay got introduced to the girl who was ultimately his downfall. That stupid, dirty, no good, very bad bxtch.
*sigh*
Anywho, I’m about to get another glass of milk and another cookie or three. I’ll try to keep the excursions down Memory Lane to a minimum. Y’all might think that I’ve gone soft or some shxt and I need to strike fear into your lives or at the very least make you laugh. Making you laugh is the objective I suppose, although the fear lasts longer.
Til the morrow; parting is such sweet sorrow and all that.

Three days down, three hundred and sixty two to go.
♥

Day Two: You Ever Feel Like Somebody’s Watchin’ You?

2010-01-02T13:06:00.000-05:00

I’ve watched you y’know. I’ve been paying close attention to the attention that you’ve given me lately and I want, I need to know:
Who are you?
Why the interest in me? In Him?
Why now?
If you are who I’m hoping and praying you aren’t the same way that I’m hoping it is you, you know how to contact me. Please contact me. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t want you to think that I’m begging, but maybe I am. It’s been so long. Too long.
*sigh*
Two days down, three hundred and sixty three to go.

Day One: Not So Drunken Reflections

2010-01-01T11:57:00.000-05:00

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.
I’m gone.

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.

♥

I’m Not a Notch in Your Bed Post but You’re Just a Line in a Blog

2009-12-29T14:56:00.001-05:00

I wrote this one a while ago, lost it in my room then randomly found it earlier today and decided to post it because of my somewhat acerbic, definitely comedic wordplay. Besides that, it made me giggle.
*shrugs*
♥

It has recently come to my attention that there are those among you who would wish to perpetrate and attempt to pass off my thoughts and ideas as their own, so if you would be as kind as to allow me to address them here and now I would greatly appreciate it.
*drawn out and rather dramatic sigh*
While I applaud you for leading a (insert air quotes…here) notorious lifestyle, I regret to inform you that you not only fail at life and subsequently as a person, but never shall you succeed in anything that you do until you learn how to be yourself. You aren’t notorious, and you surely aren’t infamous sweetheart. You’re just…you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Then again, there isn’t much right either.
Yes, I am a rather unbelievably amazing/fantastic/unique/awesome/insert your own adjective worthy of describing the queen that I am here person if I do say so myself. I can fully understand why you wish to “be like me” but please, hop off my clit, locate the nearest dick and proceed to choke on it. Twice.
You my dear can only cheaply imitate that which I have innovated.
The very thought of someone like you writing Cam&&Essence and the rest of the Turner High Diaries is laughable at best, shamefully pathetic at it’s worst. This is my shxt. Never has it been yours; never will it be yours. I personally don’t think that you have what it takes to write even my early, undeveloped rough drafts, so your attempt to submit my work for publication is hilarious in a brain-missing, senselessly foolish kind of way.
The characters, concepts, story lines and ideas that you’ve apparently been trying to pass off as your own came not from your poor, obviously addled little mind. They are instead the fruits of my creative genius. It would be completely different had you been there to help cultivate and sow even the earliest seeds of creativity, but the fact remains that you weren’t.
I don’t know which is worse. It might be the fact that you stole my work and tried to pass it off as your own. At the same time, it could be that your submitted the pilfered writings to the very same publishing houses that I did and didn’t think that I would hear about it. No, I think the worst thing is that you chose to defile the very integrity of my characters by adding vampires.
Cam&&Essence nor any of the other THD’s are vampire romance novels; I never set out to write the black or urban version of Twilight. That’s not who I am as a writer and none of my characters were designed to be bled by some fool with a sharp pair of canines. No, that’s not it sweetie. I commend you for the nerve and cunning *side eye* which was obviously needed to pull off your shamefully deceitful acts, but the buck stops here bxtch.
I advise you to listen to the chorus of this song then continue reading.

If I ever find out that you’ve been stealing from me again, there will be hell to pay and honestly sweetie, you don’t want me as an enemy. I’ll destroy you and think nothing of it. Are we clear?
Kthanxbubyenow

L. Elizabeth Carter

I’m Dreaming of a Black Kwanzaa

2009-12-25T23:32:00.000-05:00

Before I even get into my introduction, just wanted to let y’all know that this isn’t about Kwanzaa as I don’t celebrate the holiday and this isn’t about why I don’t celebrate the holiday. This is just me being my usual smart alecky and rather brilliant, word playing self. If you are indeed looking for info on Kwanzaa, click…here.

*breathes deep and heaves a heavy sigh of relief*

If you’re reading this, you too have survived the holidays. Since you’ve managed to pull yourself away from your various games, the systems they belong to and your other distractions, take this time out to give yourself a pat on the back. Oh, feel free to gather what remains of your scattered brain cells, a dictionary and an accompanying thesaurus. I make no promises, but there is a very real chance that I’ll use more of those “big”, multi-syllabic words that I’ve become known for.

So, how was everyone’s Chrismahanukwanzakah? Oh…you didn’t get that official Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model air rifle that you were askin’ Santa for? Suck it the eff up and make due; you woulda shot ya eye out anyway kid.

As for me, myself and Ren, my Christmas pretty much rocked. Emphasis on the pretty much.

I was glad to see that “daddy dearest” (*side eye*) had finally gotten it right. The jewelry box, locket and cash that the Sperm Donor gave me weren’t addressed

To: LauRen E!
[T.S.D. is quite fond of exclamation points. Methinks that’s where Boogie get’s it from]
From: Dad and El Jefe

That shxt used to drive me crazy when I was younger. That—*uses term loosely*—woman doesn’t even think that I’m that man’s child; the only gift she’d like to give me would be a paternity test. But that boys and girls is the fuel that shall be added to the conflagration that is my varied and expansive list of daddy issues. That and so much more shall come up in the not so distant future. Let’s continue with the here and now. Or would that be the there and then? These events already happened; hmmm…

As always, Mom came through for ya girl. She got me six or seven sweaters, a few pairs of leggings, a key necklace and she even made sure that I was infamous down to the shoes when she got me these

Yes, yes y’all. Those do indeed match the colorway of The (Infamous) Life. I’ve had my eyes on these for months now, I was gonna buy them when I saw them but…living (infamously) doesn’t come cheap, let me tell ya. There’s the cost of public transportation, bills, food, basic forms of fashion, school. I’m livin’ the lifestyle of a broke, fabulous and infamous individual, but regardless of that, twas only a matter of time before I got my hands on them.

My family and friends also contributed to Operation: Phat Girl Phresh with the gifting of bath, body and lip-care products and all the gift cards and cash they sent my way. Now, don’t get it twisted. I love and appreciate everything that I was blessed to receive, but even as I write this, I can’t help but to think about the proposition I was approached with earlier and the gift that’s been sitting on my dresser since I finished it and the person that it’s for. My lawyer cousin who lives out in California asked if Boogie and I would like to visit her for a week or two next summer and of course the very first thing that I thought of was Him. I just…
*sigh*
[I miss Him. So much.]

No matter though. Time for me to slip on these Betty Boop pajamas, go out to the living room and finally set up my Wii.

I’ve Got Impudence Down to a Science; Care to See an Experiment?

2009-12-24T13:49:00.001-05:00

Man, it’s so hard not to act reckless…

*sighs*

What it is, what it look like and all that good ol’ stereotypical shxt that I say, have said and will continue to say because I don’t give a gotdang and I can do what I want as this is my own personal slice of cyber-space? How be all of ye? Ready to choke the next person who starts humming or singing the chorus from the maudlin and oh so very depressing song “Christmas Shoes”? Feel as though you need a good three cups of Christmas Cheer, two blunts and a partridge in a pear tree to make it through Christmas dinner this year?

You are not alone.

How art I? Fine as a muhfxcka, dandy like Yankee Doodle and peachy keen like um…something that’s keen and full of peaches. I can’t be expected to be brilliant and awe inspiring with my wordplay all the time. Dang, cut me some slack, it’s the holiday season, I’m stressed yo. What is it about Chrismahanukwanzakah that makes people go crazy?

Yesterday, when I first began this post, I…well, peep what I had written

♥

I am not, let me reiterate not in a good mood. Hence this particular title. If you’re one of the many sitting there trying to master the English language and figure out what it is that I’m saying and what Impudence happens to mean, allow me to define it for you, my mental midgets.

Impudent:
Adj.
Rude: showing a lack of respect and excessive boldness

Got it? Good, gold stars, hand-claps and Jello Pudding Pops for you.

So anyway, like I said a paragraph or so ago, ya girl is not in a good mood. Matter of fact, I’m in a quasi-homicidal, cut a bxtch nigga from east to west with a dull butter knife then stab him in the left eye with my second favorite mechanical pencil type of mood. Seems like Dora and her explorin’ ass has pulled the map out of her backpack and told people that it’s in txt messages, in person and over the phone to my last good nerve and these muhfxckas have proceeded to do the merengue, salsa and cha-cha slide all over it.

I’ve got a headache. The Egg Donor must have forgotten that I don’t like to be touched and insists on doing so and I’m actually entertaining the thought of throwing something at her—as I said, not in a good mood but I have managed to retain a bit of my God given sense. Then, there’s the situation that I’ve gotten into because I’ve apparently pissed people off who routinely piss me off with their own special brand of idiocy mixed with inanity…

♥

But, I didn’t finish it. Doing so would surely ensure the dropping of coal into my nonexistent stocking by a non-existing Santa Claus and as I’ve been a pretty decent—if you ignore that incident with my water bottle that one time and a few other incidents that haven’t been put on the blog due to the statue of limitations still being in effect—girl this year. Beside that, I snuck (sneaked?) and took a peak at the Christmas presents that mom has “hidden” in her trunk. I’ve got good shxt comin’ my way in the AM, I’m not about to risk that, you crazy?

I’m done wit’ this one boys, girls, those in between and on the outskirts of each gender, but here’s another present from me to you:
A Huey Freeman Christmas

♥

Here’s to Hoping Yule Shoot Your Eye Out

2009-12-22T13:32:00.001-05:00

Hey there, ho-ho-ho there, how goes it Santa’s little helpers? Everyone havin’ a jolly time decking the halls with bows of Ilex aquafolium and rocking around your respective Christmas trees? You’re not? I hope your grandmother gets run over by a reindeer walking home from your house on Christmas eve.

As for ya girl, I’m in my room, caked up with my ferocious beast of a stuffed lion under my electric blanket, bored as all hell and tryin’ to remember where I put one of my many notebooks. I wrote up this blog in response to someone’s overdramatic reaction about something that had absolutely nothing to do with them and I’m thinking about posting it. Not because I know that they’re waiting for my response, but because it was funny and those of you who have quote unquote warped minds and senses of humor much like my own would appreciate it. I said something like

Don't you get tired of jumping to the conclusion that everything I say and do is about you? This never ending game of leapfrog must be tiring, so take a seat on that lily-pad over there and listen well

then I said what I had to say in a rather uncharacteristic, laid back and non rude way. Those of you who think that I’m a bxtch would have enjoyed it. But no matter, the notebook is missing and I can’t be bothered enough to tear up my room looking for it. I finally got it sorta kinda almost but not really clean. One thing about Ren that y’all may not know is that I hate to clean. I need to hurry up, sell a book, sign a multi-release deal with film options and get rich so I can afford to have a maid. Oh, and to move out of Michigan forever; hate it here.

Anyway, that’s all this time around boys and girls. I know how much you non-blog commenting blog readers hate it when you have to actually read, so I’m keeping this one short for y’all. Merry Chrismahanukwanzakah busters, don’t say I never did anything for ya. Now, onto the tracks of the day.

First up, we have “Yule Shoot Your Eye Out” by Fallout Boy

which is the only Christmas related song I’m throwin’ on here today. I’m sure somewhere, someone is thinking that this song is about them, but allow me to burst the rather large bubble that may be forming as that person reads:
It’s not, but I’m flattered that you think it is.

Next up, we have some Bach, Cello Suite number…um *sigh* I forget and the information wasn’t on my mp3 player smh. Oh well, I do know that it’s played rather beautifully by Jacqueline du Pre

Now we have two selections by Sebastian Mego first is
“You”

then
”Here Comes One”

And to close this one out, I leave you with “Carry On My Wayward Son” by Kansas

On that note, I’m out. Can’t wait til Saturday when I can stop wit’ the Christmas themed puns and titles, these are tiresome to think up y’know.

♥

Bah Humbug You Ho-Ho-Ho

2009-12-20T11:25:00.000-05:00

Life is the worlds’ biggest and most expansive learning experience and I’m at the top of my class. I don’t need a tutor.

God rest ye merry gentlemen and women who look the part. How be all of thee? Letting nothing dismay you from the lead astray lives that you lead? Here’s to hoping that you bring tidings of Southern Comfort and joy this holiday season. Alcoholic eggnog will work too. I’m not picky.

How art I?

A little bit crazy, always sexy and relatively cool in a not so calm yet completely collected way. That’s right mister, I’m nice wit’ the puns and witticisms, so it was surely jest when you thought that your quips were superior to my own. Get familiar jo [=

I’m currently tryin’ to figure out a way to get out of the painfully stilted conversation that’s sure to occur this afternoon as I’ve been expressly forbidden from listening to music in my egg donor’s egg donor’s house. My Nana seems to think that ignoring people by perusing my library of 1500+ songs is rude. However; I know for a fact that real rudeness is harping on things that you know nothing about for hours on end. Insisting on trying to fix which isn’t broken in my life by incessant nagging isn’t much better. But no matter, let’s get into this one as I ponder my predicament.

♥

12 Things About Chrismahanukwanzakah That Annoy Me

12) Malls, the annoying people who shop in them and mall Santa’s:
As you know, I’m not the world’s biggest fan of people and the idiocy that seems to be imbedded deep within their genetic code. Malls and Christmas shoppers have helped to make me that way. Every year, the number of people that lose their minds over the “sales” on recently marked up items at stores like Macy’s and JC Penney’s multiplies tenfold as they try to obtain the inane trinkets that are given out as door-busters. Add that to those creepy mall Santa’s—It takes a very special kind of man to have children sitting on his lap all day be his seasonal occupation—it’s pretty easy to see why I don’t eff wit’ the mall unless I have to this time of year.

11) Niggas who break up with you to avoid buying a present:
These are the same niggas that call you up to make plans for New Year’s Eve on December 26th.

10) Holiday Themed Clothing:
Yes, I love Christmas as much as the next person who still rips a corner of wrapping paper off of the presents under the tree to try to figure out what they’re getting. But at the same time, you won’t catch me dressed in a Christmas tree sweater with real working lights; candy cane leggings; boots with bells that jingle; an antler headband and optional red nose.
[I’ve seen it.]
I’d rather skinny dip with Jack Frost, wrestle polar bears and fence with narwhals before I looked like a walking Macy’s display gone horribly and ever so recklessly awry.

9) Tinsel:
Whoever thought up those minute (here pronounced “my-newt”. As in…little. Not the unit of time measurement), glittery pieces of annoyance should be punched in the throat. Twice.

8) Live Christmas trees:
I am a firm believer of and in artificial trees. You see, those wonderful creations of human ingenuity come in assorted styles, colors and sizes. Real trees? Yeah, you get what you get and that’s that. Mother nature will gladly give you a tree that makes Charlie Brown’s look like a 12 foot Douglas Fir and think nothing of it.
Beside that, pine-needles make me itch.

7) Holiday Specials:
All I have to say is that Lifetime and Hallmark should be banned from making pseudo uplifting movies about talking animals and curmudgeonly old geezers with hearts of silver, gold and platinum. Quick, fast and in a hurry.

6) Church Plays:
…I’m gonna watch what I say on this one as I’m currently writing this as I watch the one that’s being put on by my church. God may just decide to throw a golden Yule log scented with frankincense and myrrh at me. If the thought of being permanently logged out—I know, I know. I couldn’t resist—of my (infamous) life wasn’t enough to make me want to bite my tongue, I’ve synced my blog with my notes on FaceBook. I’m friends with a few of the saints from my local parish.
Y’all know the church be talkin’.

5) Gift wrapping:
I’ve accomplished a lot in my twenty years here on this third rock from the sun, the mastery of the art of effortless awesomeness that in turn makes me better than you on your best day for example. As awesome as I am though, I can’t wrap presents to save mine (infamous) life. Every time I try, I either use too much paper or not enough. Either way, it looks like a flaming hot mess. God invented gift bags and tissue paper for a reason.

4) Salvation Army donation people:
Times are hard and believe me when I say that I know that. I spent the majority of my Saturday doing volunteer work for the holiday. I’m not going to talk about the giving of money because if I’ve been blessed enough to receive it, I can bless someone else by donating it to a good cause. I’m talking about the way that the Salvation Army is trying to guilt people into giving donations by making the frail and sick stand in the cold to ring those bells. The last time Tia and I went shopping, we saw this old lady who had to be at least seventy standing outside a-ring-ring-ringlin’ her bell. I dug deep and slipped a ten into the bucket even though I wanted nothing more than to buy her a scarf and a cup of spiced cider.

3) Snow:
Snow is the devil. The white devil. Every winter, I feel like I’m in a blaxploitation flick. Foxy and a whole lot of woman though I may be, ~~Lemon Cream~~ Caramel Macchiato is fighting a losing battle for warmth and consistently clear sidewalks. Shazaam.

2) Idiots who forget how to drive in the snow:
I live in Michigan. We’re shaped like a frickin’ glove for a reason; we’re no stranger to snow in my “great” state, but that doesn’t stop nitwits from acting like they can’t drive. The other night when I was talkin’ to Conscious on FaceBook and watchin’ rap-battles on YouTube, this person with yellow snow for brains ran into the light-pole outside of mi casa.

1) Christmas Carols:
Look son, I don’t care if you want to buy these here shoes for your momma, Santa Claus can come to town all he wants to, I don’t give a gotdang nor a fanga in the middle about you wantin’ your two front teeth for Christmas and I want every chestnut to pop-pop-pop you in the eye as you roast it over the open fire. I’ve been hearing Christmas carols everyday since Halloween. Every. Day.
I hear them in the stores, on public transportation, in my nightmares, everywhere.

That being said…today’s track of the day is “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” by Kirk Franklin and The Family.

Merry Chrismahanukwanzakah Everyone!

♥

He Came to Party and Rock

2009-12-17T09:23:00.000-05:00

Kanye West isn’t the only artist to fuse hip-hop with Daft Punk’s brand of synth laden Euro-pop. Enter Darren Hanible, a seventeen year old emcee from the area collectively known as the DMV, and his first solo effort, Bliss.

The mixtape opens as our young emcee steps into the role of trainer, delivering a “Workout” that, if followed, will leave trainees and listeners alike harder, better, faster and stronger.

On the hypnotically melodic “Fly Away”, Darren soars while while longing for better days and a place where he can reach his goals. A far cry from the previous songs laidback—and somewhat ‘emo’—vibe, the kid tells listeners what it ain’t if they ain’t know what it is while inviting them to get rowdy and cause a ruckus on the electric guitar driven “Party Rock” until the break of dawn. The song ends with the tolling of a bell and Darren switches gears and explores a place where good times and good vibes are sure to follow as he delves into the “Life”. As the tape advances, he gives listeners a glimpse at the dream he had about his “Digital Love”

From his hat to his shoes and his shirt to his jeans, DH proves himself to be a “Steez Machine” rhyming about the death of swag and continues to drop bar after bar of witty wordplay over Daft Punk’s "Steam Machine". As the track continues to play, he gives his own personal definition of steez

Steez is all natural
It can’t be imitated
Steez is individual
It can’t be related
…Steez is in the walk and the talk and the clothes

and let’s the whole world know about the new move before embracing his style, his steez, and waving goodbye to swag for a final time.

Switching gears once more, we find our young emcee confessing that he knows he just met this girl he saw across the room, but there’s somethin’ in the way she walks that makes him want to get her. The chorus concedes that it “Mite Not Be” the right time and that he may not be the right one and it may not even be the right time but he’d be willing to discover what’s between them anyway.

Seeking to undo the damage that radio has done, Darren challenges listeners to open their minds as he effortlessly steps into the role of “Brainwasher”, rinsing the images of what’s hot and what’s not from our minds and showing that hip-hop can still be fun without the common themes of drugs and violence.

Whether he’s trying to fly away to better days, talking about his “Girls (Around the World)” or administering a killer workout, Darren Hanible succeeds in painting a picture of how he “Feels” while showing off the lyrical dexterity that belies his seventeen years. Despite his flaws and imperfections, he proves himself to be “Human After All” and that is truly…

Bliss.

Click the track-listing to download.

For more Darren Hanible:

Follow him on Twitter and befriend him on MySpace

It Happens to the Best of Us. Then it Happens to You

2009-12-16T22:07:00.000-05:00

Before I get into this post, time for a random screenshot of a conversation between Lil One and I

So. Effin’. Rude.

But anyway…

Hey y’all, what it is, what it look like and all that good stuff? How the heck be you gnomes, elves and assorted ho-ho-ho’s?
Y’know, Santa isn’t the only one who has a list that he checks twice so y’all best be on your uh…best behavior. While I’m not omnipresent—triple word score bxtches (=—I do have spies all over and I know exactly when your being naughty and nice. For example…you? Yes, you, the light skinned dude wit’ the body who resides out on the east-coast? Yeah…you can be a naughty boy all you like, as long as you do it on webcam where I can monitor you…

*cough*

I’m just playin’ gotdangit, sheesh!

I don’t have access to the internet right now, so who knows when I’m going to get the chance to post this or any other post that I may write. As it is, I finally finished rewriting the overview that I did for Darren Hanible and told him that I would email it to him before I post it, but…no net.

*sigh*

So, I’m about to do a random countdown, from ten to one, of things that have crossed my mind today and otherwise. It shall be fun. For y’all. Maybe. I don’t know. Don’t really care at the moment either, too bored for that

*shrugs*

Let’s get into it.

♥

10 Things I Always Wished I Could Say to 10 People

10) Yeah…you’re the main reason I don’t date Lansing niggas.
9) Love and Basketball is not that great of a movie
[Yeah, I said it. And?]
8) You’re not a big fan of thinking before you speak, are you?
7) Thank you.
6) You stupid, stupid cow. I told you not to get that niggas name tatted on you!
5) I do.
4) For someone so incredibly smart, you are so unbelievably stupid. Open your eyes. Please?
3) I don’t have it in me to hate anyone, but if I did, it would definitely be you for what you did.
2) I will make it, fxck you for not believing in me.
1) Siempre.

9 Things About Me You May or May Not Know

9) the “R” in my first name is capitalized for a reason and I hate it when people don’t spell my name the right way or think that the capitalization changes the way my name is pronounced.
“LauRen” is pronounced the same way as “Lauren”
thank you kindly.
8) I’m a Leo, the best fire sign ever in the history of everdom
7) “Never will I ever utter never to myself” word to Wale
6) I have a scar that’s shaped like a lizard on my left ankle from the surgery I had after I broke my ankle on Valentine’s Day 2003
5) I’m a Bible Bowl Champion
4) I took a huge chance over the summer and risked everything that I know and I’m still hoping that what I did was worth the risk. Still waiting to find out…
3) I was that quiet girl in HS who always had her nose in a book
2) I can’t leave the house without my music, a book, a notebook and at least one tube of lip-gloss
1) My life is a harmonious dichotomy. I’m an enigmatic, contradiction of a conundrum and that my friends, enemies and hybrid of the two, is my defense mechanism of choice.

8 Ways to Win My Friendship

8) Honesty is indeed the best policy ladies and gents.
7) Be yourself. If I wanted more fakeness, I’d associate with more bxtches from Lansing
6) Be prepared to deal with my sarcasm. No one is safe from it, if you can’t handle that, your application for the position of friend to The (Infamous) One hath already been denied.
5) Have a sense of humor…but don’t try too hard. If you have to struggle to get laughs, you may as well give it up.
4) Be prepared to subscribe to my issues. I have more than a few and if you deal with mine, I’ll deal with yours in return
3) Don’t be afraid to speak your mind—about anything.
2) Be there when I need you. Not that I’m gonna have you bail me outta jail or anything like that—that responsibility lies wit’ the bestie—just be there when I need someone to talk to, I’ll appreciate it and you.
1) Don’t bullshxt me. I don’t have the time for that foolishness and you do not want to know what happens when I find out you lied to me. Tis not a pretty sight homies and ho’s.

7 Things That Crossed My Mind Today

7) What the hell? How did this end up under my bed?

6) Wonder what’ll happen if I do end up writing that?
5) No the hell she did not take my effing modem away! What is this bullshxt? What am I, three and a half, cuz I mean, really?
4) I kinda miss that…*sad face*
3) Wonder what Jay would say about everything that’s goin’ on right now
2) Eeny, Meany, Miney, Mo, which one of these ho’s should I make hit that stroll?
1) Argh—like a pirate—I have writing to do

6 Things That I Do Before Bed

6) Talk on the phone for a couple of hours[usually until I fall asleep]
5) pick out pjs before saying a loud “eff it” and falling asleep in an oversized t-shirt
4) read/write
3) listen to music
2) shower
1) say a prayer for Him

5 Songs I Listened to Today

5) “Classic” Conscious

4) “Can't Shake Me” Lazy Eye

3) “I Think I Love You” Dwele

2) “Say Something Freestyle” Darren Hanible

1) “My Immortal” Evanescence

4 Things That I’m Wearing Right Now

4) Burgundy toe-socks

3) white tank top
2) tan coatdress
1) flip-flops
[Say somethin’. I dare ya.]

3 Things I Want to Do Before I Die

3) Live again…
2) Get the eff you see kay outta Michigan for good
1) Get published

2 People Who Mean the World to Me

2) The bestie Tia
1) Him

1 Confession

1) I’m afraid too you know, but no matter how scared I was, I never ran. Wish you could say the same.

Out of the Mouths of Babes...

2009-12-15T22:04:00.000-05:00

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:

I don’t like people.

Real ish, I detest, despise, loathe, abhor and just all around can’t stand people. Actual ones at least. Y’all know how I feel about theoretical people, they’re great, wish I knew more of ‘em.

Today’s actual people fxck up goes to my ~~loving~~ evil little sister Victoria. Peep this snippet of a conversation that she had with one of her friends during church a couple of weeks back.

Boogie: I don’t like Kameo!
M: You don’t like anyone, what’s new? >:|
Boogie: I like people, just not Kameo, Sarah, Tammy or Erika
M: Which One
Boogie: Not Tianna’s mom but the other one
M: Y?
Boogie: Cuz she tries to tell me what to do
M: Like…?
Boogie: In dance class she acts like she’s Kameo and Sarah!
M: Well, she is an adult, she’s just trying to better you
Boogie: Well it ain’t workin’
M: She’s really nice
Boogie: Well not to me she’s not!
M: Okay? Y do u not like Tammy?
Boogie: She can’t sing and act’s all stuck up and junk!
[the egregious use of the exclamation point is killin’ me softly]
M: How do she act stuck up?
Boogie: She acts like she’s better than everyone…
M: Wow, you just described yourself to me
Boogie: No, no, no. I know that I’m better than some people cuz of their confidence level
M: Wow, and you call Tammy stuck up
Boogie: Me and Tammy are two different people
M: Yeah, but Tammy isn’t stuck up
Boogie: And neither am I
[*cough* bullshxt *cough*]
M: Girl boom
Boogie: Um…no comment
M: But f you asked Tammy 4 anything, if she had it she would give it to you. You? Not so much
Boogie: Yes I would
M: Then give me a dollar

*sighs and rolls eyes*

You know that way that I joke about bein’ better than other people? Yeah, in virtually every one of my posts? That? Yeah, it’s just me talkin’ my shxt. Despite what you read here, I’m quite humble and don’t believe that I’m better than any…erm, many people. And those that I’m quote unquote better than, it’s not me as a person that’s specifically better than the other person, it’s one or more of my qualities that’s better. Boogie on the other hand?

Not so much.

“Shh; The Feds is Listenin’”

2009-12-15T11:47:00.001-05:00

I’m tryin’ to come up with an introduction that would tie in with the idiotic hilarity of which you’re about to listen to but…I got nothin’, nothin’ at all.

I suppose that this is what I get for asking

and I should’ve know that this would happen when this was the response that I got

With that being said, listen to the crazy ass recklessness that Lil One left in my Google Voice inbox.

Part One

Part Two

Go Elf Yourself—A Christmas Story

2009-12-11T12:26:00.001-05:00

Tis the season for overcrowded shopping malls, fighting over toys that your kids wont even appreciate at Toys R Us and it’s over the river and through the hood to Nana’s house you go. That’s right ho-ho-ho’s, it’s Chrismahanukwanzakah time!

If you were in yearly Christmas pageant at your local church like I was growing up, then you know that Jesus is the reason for the season (oh yes He is y’all). Cynical, sarcastic and rude as all hell though I may be, I don’t question my faith. However, this isn’t about what I do and don’t believe in. Nope. This is where I get to make gross speculations and/or wild accusations about who and whatever tickles my fancy as the—Chrismahanukwanzakah—spirit guides my fingers over the keys.

I love Christmas; it’s one of my favorite times of the year. I get to see relatives I don’t normally get to see and I’m reminded of how thankful I am for that by my second glass of non-alcoholic eggnog. There’s the yearly appearance of the dreaded photo-album and the reliving of 90’s fashion along with the realization that my mother really didn’t love me as a child based on the colors and patterns that were mixed together in the name of an outfit. There’s also the fam sitting around the fireplace with mugs of hot coco actually acting civil towards each other. Where am I? The (Infamous) One is sitting across the room throwin’ pointed side-eye’s, all out glares and straight unadulterated evil vibes from my place on the heating grate because I’m convinced these busters secretly want me to freeze.

Speaking of me freezing…

I need to get the hell outta Michigan before I turn into a ~~lemon~~ caramel Rencicle.

Just this morning when I went to go shovel, the temperature was 14 here in Lansing but with the wind-chill it felt like –2.

I put on two pairs of socks, leggings, pajama pants and my jeans, a long sleeved t-shirt, an oversized hoody and my heavy leather coat. Still not sure why, but I thought that that would be sufficient protection from the Michigan cold, but as soon as I stepped off the porch, the boogers in my nose—yes, the boogers bxtches, I have them too, but unlike you, I don’t pick and eat mine—turned to small blocks of ice. Please believe I’m not shxttin’ y’all right now when I say that I coughed and created a cloud that hung in midair for 3.667 seconds before it fell to the ground and shattered.

I shoveled that and what remained of the snow in my driveway up and turned back to my house to find my neighbor on my porch stealing my salt.

I silently watched him scuttle back over to his property to finish his sidewalk with the pilfered rock salt. Walking up the steps, I opened the door to Chez Ren and grabbed my liter of Aquafina then proceeded to go outside and dump the contents of the 33.8 FL. OZ bottle of H2O on the four doors of his Taurus. I went back in the house to wait for his doors to freeze.

Watching him stand in the cold as he tried to open his doors while I sipped on hot coco from the comfort of my couch was a nice early Christmas present if I do say so myself.

♥

The Return of The Ren and Tia Show

2009-12-10T16:06:00.001-05:00

I just rewatched this for the third time and…lmao, we’re a mess.

No lengthy introduction, just a video shot with the bestie and directly uploaded to Vimeo. The YouTube link will be up soon, as will the second part to our madness

♥

I Blame The Egg Donor and Sibling Unit

2009-12-09T22:18:00.001-05:00

*sigh*

I am not in a good effin’ mood right now. Which sucks, I was geeked like shxt less than half an hour ago. I’m not about to even talk about the reasons behind my geekage as it would do absolutely nothin’ but piss me off now, so, I’m gonna throw up some tracks of the day since I’ve neglected to do so for a while now.

First up, we have “Michelle” by
Joaquin Flores.

Next up, we have “This is your captain speaking” by
Lazy Eye

After that I present to you “Black Sugar” by [my duder]
Conscious

Expect to see ~~a lot~~ more music by him on here. Not because we’re cool with each other, but because this is my type of hip-hop. I selected the above song at random because they’re all that good. Trust. Would I steer you wrong when it comes to my music?

And last, but most certainly not least is “This Means War” by up and coming emcee
Darren Hanible

*sigh*

I’m so irked right now that I can’t even give any of the artists that I’ve featured in this post the proper praise they deserve. Ugh. I feel like I’m cheating them out of something =(

At least I’ll be able to make up for it when I post my review of D. Hanible’s Bliss project later on this week or early next week depending on my schedule. As for everyone else, I’ll be more descriptive when I post their music in future entries.

On that note, I’m out.

♥

I’m so effin’ irked I didn’t even use 300 effin’ words. Fxck. It’s that bad right now smh.

And I’ve Got Nothing to Say On This Shxt

2009-12-08T23:19:00.001-05:00

A picture is worth a thousand words and all that right?
Well, I’m not sayin’ shxt, I’ll let the pix do the talking

That was after only like a half an hour of snow…

Fxck.

I hate Michigan winters

Of Vienna Sausages and Cocktail Wieners

2009-12-08T12:52:00.001-05:00

Did another audio-blog out of boredom so…here it is.

For those of you who can’t hear the audio for whatever reason, this is basically what I said:

What it is, what it look like and all that good shxt, it's ya girl Ren. How be ye knaves, paupers, assorted commoners, princes who look like princesses and vice versa?
How be's me?
Eh, I'm aight, just sittin' here, answering my work and personal email, bored and gettin'...how do you say, irked as in more than not a lotta bit and exceeding even more than that. Gon' head and let it marinate in your spirit. Try to absorb what I'm saying.
*hums the jeopardy theme*
You got it? Understandin' what it is that I'm sayin'? Good, gold star and applause for you
*claps hands*
So, along with music and music videos and other things of that nature, I get a shxt load of...well, I guess you could call it amateur porn from the guys that are tryin' to snatch away my vcard, however, Ren finds this shxt to be annoying.
Day after effing day there are new pics from my air quotes suitors in various states of undress and for the most part? Yeah, I'm not impressed.
Sure, there's this guy who has this body that sorta, kinda, almost um yeah, makes me wanna spend long hours licking whipped cream off of his six pack but uh, one, I'm a card carrying good girl and two son just doesn't have the equipment necessary for the procurement of mine virginity. It's just...he's so tiny!
Y'all know what vienna sausages look like, ryte? Yeah...like one and a half of those and you've got him. The message he attached that particular picture to said that he was cold when he took it and that explains the rinky-dinkness of his size, but I for one look at it this way
Why would you not take a pic when you're, y'kno, warm and able to show off your optimum length and width? Cuz that? Yeah, if I were to go thru wit' it and fxck him--which will NEVER EVER EVER EVER in the history of NEVERDOM happen--I'm pretty sure that I'd still technically be a virgin. Just sayin'.
So...cheah, I'm done wit' this one...layta

♥

If I decide to continue doin’ these, they’ll get better. I promise.

I'ma Tell You What It Ain't If You Ain't Know What It Is

2009-12-07T21:08:00.000-05:00

There’s a ho in this house, when you see her point ‘er out

*points at your girlfriend*

Hey there, ho there—*points at that girl I don’t like*—how do ya do? What’s goin’ on folks, how is everything? Y’all good? If not, let me know and I’ll help you come up with a fun and quite possibly illegal solution to your problem. It’s the least I could do for y’all; it is the Season for Giving after all. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t try to help you out in your time of need?

The correct answer is a terrible one.

At the most, I’m dreadful, perhaps appalling, but never terrible. Don’t get it twisted, I don’t play that shxt. Shoot.

As for me, ya girl is currently sittin’ at the bus station, gettin’ more than a little bit annoyed with my surroundings and the people surrounding me.

There’s a gaggle of goons fifteen feet away that are watching my chest move up and down as I inhale and exhale while making crude remarks that would get them maced and cut from east to west if they were to act on them. As it is, I’m contemplating the rearrangement of their facial landscape. These niggas are outta line smh.

To the right of me is one of the guys that’s been tryin’ to holla on MySpace—I know, we been off that—for the longest. Thankfully, son doesn’t recognize me. Last time that I bothered to answer one of his messages, I told him that I was moving to Jackson to live with The Sperm Donor and El Jefe. If he were to realize who this caramel complexioned bit of thickness that is me is, he’d get up and walk over here in his Obama J’s—I’m far from a sneaker-head, but uh…I know that those bxtches are as official as these are—and make an attempt at verbal communication.

Because of the bad ass children that are running around and the scent of industrial strength Pine-Sol that’s hanging in the air like a noxious cloud, I am not in a good mood. The rather loud females behind me that should be slapped by an AKA for the abuse of the colors green and pink in their kinky twists are also fueling the flames of my aggravation and when you add it to the fact that I’m at the fxcking bus station, I’m in one of those moods where I could shut a nigga down and not give a damn about it.

Luckily for him, he still doesn’t know who I am, and luckily for me, my bus is here.

♥

How Do Ya Make Somethin’ So Easy So Complicated?

2009-12-07T10:20:00.001-05:00

Hey there humans and human impersonators, how art thou and…yeah, I don’t feel like wasting my brilliance on y’all by coming up with an introduction, so I’m gonna let this shxt speak for itself.

Literally.

I decided to fxck around wit’ Google Voice this morning out of extreme boredom, so I left myself a few vmails to embed on the blog. Take a listen to me ramble aimlessly then peep the translation that Google was kind enough to provide me with.

♥

And it and I was going on what it is really look like I'll be made to know what I did there at the posted for that they have a regular basis. If you are over in and right now I'm just bored at home taking a break a quick break from us bedding from the final 8 of the M's and wanted to move around them to. Anyway, there, I'm a ex so I just decided to do that because I have a set of video in a while, and I'd see if you are now. But one might hear it. But see you and I don't, so I'm trying to make my camera worked long enough to do that so. 3. I'm not doing it. Okay so yet. Ford and my just around doable voice and but some more. I did okay yeah get the M. Right now I see why people say that you need to come down a lot. Anyway, there's no point of this month so I don't even know if I'm going to use it, but on the 10th avenue hi and yes okay i'm i'm. I'm done I'm done. I think it's now I don't think I am actually and then two questions lessons. Yes, this is whether I talked to my cellphone at routine in regular basis. Don't have questions because I don't have any a quick break so we see it, anything up. It was I. Dan, I want to let me know yeah, and I think them done. I think maybe that mister. Now i got nothing but now I think you know no. Okay, I'm babysit.

Yeah, Google didn’t get any better wit’ the translation. Observe.

Hey there, You analyze how goes it. If you are in and right now. I'm basically just really really really really really bored right now. So I decide to try and set so mike avoid in letting out in and this is like, well, okay, it's just me bring myself avoid because I've really kinda sad to think about this is for nothing else, because it's going on blocks anyway, this is the show people that if you leave me avoid smell on my google voice number and you say something out the way in does come out the side of your neck with some. I will not hesitate to post this on my blog and put you on what I've without a person, and I am. I'm tired of being nicer up and get and the metro. Despite what you may think I would. You may have heard the site all that but so yes, I'm bored, you might expect. Well you know you times ice. Maybe you should expect more info. Audio blogs and when that because I don't feel like trying to get my camera still Workman enough to shoot a video and I'm leaving like that. So, I mean if you can use that they're here in talk on the phone 6. So whether there's a lot but yeah so, is there anything hey it's shattering or special War you need. Gore anything that I would like to bring up at the moment you know now. I didn't have a fantastic am island get. This is with that top. That's a leave. Yeah I might think that I don't talk the way that I write on my blog, but when I feel like it. I do so my part. I'm really quite Britain. I'm line with it, but I am quite, but I did talk with those a lot if I know you and when that as well. You don't talk, too, because I don't know this is whether I talked and this is leave that up and everything like that, but I decide. That's it, the check but please note that they're anything but i'm crazy because I'm not. I'm just a little and will and right now. You can tell. Ha ha. Okay, I really think that I should like quite before I d something or say something. That's, like, really, really, really, really, really save it. Well thank you it. Yeah. Yeah. Thank you very much already back. So yes, is just like that talking now but I can't. I mean I can be done with it. It's me, yes. Hey, I'm gonna grab a box. I think project. Yeah, I think I meant. I think. And yeah i'm down. Hi, Okay, I'm gonna be, but I was or.

Yeah…I know. I was bored. Forgive me. Here’s the last one.

Hey Sam people. How goes it to go over in hey. Right now I'm bored. I'm trying to mess up to come down because I've tried to do this like 3 times already and I just labeled on and on and on and on it on him. A message that I West End. Thank you and that's about anyway. And yeah, it was like listening to one of my blog post, times 4 and at it yet. Are you know that's let me know that if you get that, but at the out because you know anyone come at the what the F black airport. Yeah, exactly, so anyway he could. Yeah, I'm just boy. I just wanted to do a little quick audio blog because I can't do my my videos at the moment because of my camera and so yeah, there's nothing special going on this Lane say when I'm too i'm bored. I'm Hungry Stay, and I'm trying to do the white decide about what the cost would like to bring me breakfast because I feel like cooking right now. You know how that is great, like you're hungry, but you know with that they will be so much easier to just called money and have them bring you yet, but the thing is, the people that I could call the bringing my breakfast. Hi exactly like I don't have time to meet you, which is weird because I keep dealing with. Please make it on everything. Thank you, basis. That's it for some reason it's not the right way, Hi Dylan, one-on-one see when I'm bored, which is the routine and like you later thank you going to happen. Yeah, I have no clue what up on the saying little voice vote coming up in about a home for you about things about so at least I think all the time is of the from going on and on mon. Although I did. We walked in about the fact that because I don't want to do that. So, hit it yet. I guess that is an appointed as one just before. So yeah, you know heading on this one like you do on my blog since let me know that they'd ever you know, leave me what time it let you know Sandra Sandra you saw that you know whatever food I could you Tuesday. But don't feel like thinking of ones. Okay, so I'm about to be like cut off and I think I don't know what the dell mate some pancakes and bacon for breakfast because I wouldn't have to be willing to think it was 2 family in the morning and need to have one side. If not, so to the next time. Yeah post and replace pretty soon. And yeah like.

I guess that I’ll have to come up with scripts or cue-cards and shxt the next time I do this lol.

♥

Where’s the Figgy Pudding Bxtch?

2009-12-06T22:01:00.001-05:00

Hey there Saturday night sinners and Sunday morning ~~fakers~~ saints, how be thee? Are ya feelin’ particularly saved, sanctified and filled wit’ the Holy Ghost after you uploaded the pix of your drunken and/or high adventures at the club last night to FaceBook this morning before you went to Sunday School? You are?

Good to know.

How be’s me? Eh, I’m aight. Know what, eff it, I am effin’ fantastical right now! Ya girl is currently sittin’ in the car outside of the Meridian Mall’s Younkers, still high off of the shopping that I just did.
I got this cute little short skirt, this adorable white blouse and a black one that compliments my inherent sexiness, some black zippered leggings, a black sweater, three pairs of hobo gloves, two pairs of pants a necklace and some other accessories…

For $25!

Let me hear a woot woot for awesome discounts and the awesome staff at The Avenue!

Me heart thee, yes I does, mmhmm.

Anyway, let’s get into this one y’all. It’s a re-up and edit of my last post with my commentary and a bit of backstory. Maybe a screen shot here and there, who’s to say?

♥

Ah, Google Voice. Easily one of the best inventions those geniuses at Google have ever created. Way better than that Google Wave bullshxt at any rate. It’s boring as shxt unless you have a bunch of people to Wave with and speaking of which, I have three invites left sitting in my inbox. If you want one, drop me a blog comment with your email addy and I’ll send you one. Seeing as none of y’all enjoy leaving me blog comments, I’ll probably just randomly send these invites out to random people. But I digress.

Google Voice is awesome y’all--let me take this time out to thank my duder Drewski for sending me the invite. Ren appreciates you Drew (=. Google gave me a new number for free and with that free number comes free SMS (txt) messaging and free long distance. So…cheah.

Last night, I was deleting all…erm, most of the dirty pictures that find their way into my email and txting people from my GV number when I get a message from Kentonathan—one of my nicknames for him…

K: Punk 12:33 AM

*sigh*
Me: whatchu want nicca. and iAm NOT a punk 12:34 AM
K: O its like that? What I want? And u was supposed to call me back punkl 12:35 AM
Me: uh...yeah, it is. Got a problem? AND I FELL ASLEEP FOO'! Sheesh. Dang. Geez. Peanuts. All that. 12:36 AM
K: Don't be gettin smart with me,and u didn't fall asleep, u went to sleep fool lol am I bothering u? 12:37 AM
Me: dont be tryin to get buck in a txt message. I'll punch you in the face when you take me to the movies then make u buy me popcorn. And SO?? 12:38 AM

Oh, yeah. Kentasia is taking me to a movie. In fact, he’s taking me to two of them.

Me: Why you always callin' so late nicca? Hmph. And not yet lmao 12:39 AM
K: Ain't nobody gettin buck, u started nigga 12:39 AM

K: Been busy allday I got a head ache, and u ain't been on aim all day foo and what u mean not yet? Lol whateva 12:40 AM
Me: You ARE gettin' buck! And im about to finish this shxt too. Whatchu gon' do? Nigga. 12:41 AM
K: U ain't gon finish shit, u started somethin u can't finish like always lol 12:41 AM

*rolls eyes* son knows not what he speaks of. I finish what I start. Excluding those 23 Days…*cough* moving on.

Me: iAint start shxt. You...ugh *kicks the neighbors Pomeranian puppy* 12:42 AM

ah, yeah, that’s a running thing wit’ me. Sometimes, certain people annoy you so much that you just need to take out your aggressions on something so cute it’s sick. And, before any of you try and call those fxcktards that stand for the ethical treatment of animals, I am indeed joking. I can’t kick puppies, that’s just rude. Now a kitten on the other hand…

K: Lmao poor puppy, u r mean! 12:44 AM
Me: iDont give a gotdamn! And SOOOOO? Hmph. 12:44 AM
K: Stop bein mean b4 I put u in a headlock and give u a noogie 12:45 AM
Me: you. wouldn't. dare. 12:46 AM
K: O yes I would hehehe 12:47 AM
Me: then prepare to get that ass whooped in the worst fashion, have it videotaped, put on YouTube then sent to all ur friends. 12:49 AM
K: Lmao riiite 12:49 AM

…he thought I was joking.

K: Whateva u ain't gon do nuthin but take that noogie like the champ u r lol, what u doin? 12:50 AM
Me: riiiite is uh...right. And u can choke on a toe thinkin' that shxt. Nothin for the moment, takin' a break. u? 12:52 AM
K: I ain't chokin on nuthin lol. What u takin a break from? Just abt to lay down, tryna get rid of this headache 12:53 AM
Me: so u say. And workin' on my lesson plan for tomorrow. And take yo' self to bed 12:54 AM K: Oo ok I see, u take yo self to bed chump lol 12:56 AM
Me: good, ur eyes are open then. And no. Shut up 12:58 AM
K: Hush lol and ladies 1st 12:59 AM
Me: im not tired so...yerp 1:01 AM
K: So what, u need to sleep 1:02 AM
Me: not yet. Shut up. 1:04 AM
K: Yea yea yea , u shut up! Meanie! 1:05 AM
Me: *shuts up* 1:07 AM
K: Yea u betta, that's right! 1:08 AM

This person…

Me: *makes a rather rude hand gesture and sends it your way* 1:10 AM
K: Hmmm I wonder what that gesture was lol 1:11 AM
Me: it was rude. thats all u need to kno 1:11 AM
Kent: Whateva, u prolly flipped me off lol 1:12 AM
Me: Nope 1:13 AM
K: Gang signs? Lmao 1:13 AM
Me: dont worry about it. just kno iSent a signal. Buttons is on his way 1:16 AM
K: Who the hell is that? Lol buttons? Sounds like its nothing I can't handle lol 1:17 AM
Me: Buttons is my dwarf in steeltoed boots w/poison tipped spurs 1:20 AM

Oh, you mad you don’t have a semi-murderous dwarf on your team? Suck it the eff up and make due.

K: Lmfao damn, where the hell u be comin up with this stuff? Crazy! 1:20 AM
Me: ...who says it aint tru? And iAm not crazy 1:24 AM
K: Cuz its not fool, and u know it. U sure ur not? 1:25 AM
Me: Yeah, aight, when Buttons kicks in your door, don't say shxt. And positive 1:27 AM
K: Lol riiight, who says Buttons is going to even make it to the door? Ill pop is ass b4 he even makes it on the porch lol 1:28 AM
Me: Buttons says so. He just sent me a txt. iTold him you don't believe in him but still believe in Santa and he got pissed. You'll see. He ain't scared 1:29 AM
K: Lmao I don't believe in no damn fat ass white guy in a polyester red and white jump suit lol and he don't want it, trust me. U ain't gotta be scared to g 1:31 AM
K: et bust lol 1:31 AM
Me: Yes you do. You aint gotta lie. Your bro told me that you wait up in footy pj's every year for him and bake him cookies for scratch and that you're still 1:33 AM
Me: waitin' on that 10 speed that you've wanted since you were 10. iKno whats good. And Buttons said you can stop discriminating toward dwarves and he's really 1:34 AM
Me: gon' kick ya ass now. You've been warned 1:34 AM
K: Riiight that's a damn lie, what out 4 that lighning lol, and u don't even kno my bro. 1:34 AM
Me: Yeah. Uh huh. There is no lightning comin' mine way and SO? 1:35 AM
K: Lol I don't discriminate towards dwarves lol. And I had a 10 speed I don't need 1! Lol 1:36 AM
K: So if u don't know my bro, how could he tell u those lies? Duh lol and it will be, just wait lol 1:36 AM
Me: iTold Buttons that you did. And no you didnt. It was a 1 speed 1:37 AM
K: There I no such thing as a 1 speed fool, and F button! Tell him to come meet me in the square! Lol 1:39 AM
Me: yes there is. It's a bike. The speed is as fast as your feet go. Duh. And Buttons says "you don't want it wit' me nigga" and also that you're almost as short 1:42 AM
Me: as he is and wonders if you ever thought about being legally classified as a dwarf 1:42 AM

Buttons also said “this nigga don’t want it wit’ me, I’ll bust his head til’ the white meat shows”, but I didn’t mention this to Kentuckyfried—one word. He was scared enough as it is, didn’t wanna give him a heart attack. He still has to take me to a flick.

K: Wow ok, well my feet move way faster than "1" so I never had a "1" speed lol and ur the same height as me, so he should've asked u instead of me. 1:47 AM
Me: yeah, uh huh. And Buttons knows better than to start w/me. And I'm taller than you. 1:48 AM
K: Right, sure u r, well buttons should know not to start w/me then, cuz u sent him @ me cuz u can't handle me urself, so he should know, if he can't handle 1:50 AM
K: u, he def can't handle me 1:50 AM
Me: iAm. And iSend Buttons to handle my light work. So...take that how you will 1:53 AM

♥

That right there, my mixture of abrasive cuteness and all around weirdness, is the milkshake that brings the boys to the yard. I am like this on a routine and oh so regular basis with just about everyone, regardless of their gender. However, I’m even worse with the guys just because I can be. And they love it.

Ol’ masochistic…lol

♥