Guess Who’s Bizzack?

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.

And on the Sixth Day...

“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.

♥

Check. Mate.

“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
♥

Ten (Plus Five) Things I Hate About You

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.
♥

Young, Black and Bitter: The Elle Carter Story

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”

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.
♥

Mazel Tov; It’s a Celebration. Bxtches.

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.

♥

We Have a Dilemma on Our Hands Folks

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.

Bah Humbug You Ho-Ho-Ho

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!

♥

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

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.

Of Vienna Sausages and Cocktail Wieners

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.

Eff You See Kay Why Oh You Tee Oh Oh

(>_<)

I am not in a good mood right now.

But before we get into all of that,guess what? It’s random picture of Ren time! You don’t like it? Tough titty said the kitty and I’ll have to say after while crocodile as I insist that you Alt+F4 off of my ish right…now.

Now that that’s out the way, what it is princes, paupers, common folk and all those sleeping on their moms couch? How art thou on what’s a cold, rainy day here in the cap city of that bustling industrious center of a state Michigan?

Ah, picked up on the sarcasm did you? Good, here’s a cookie and a gold star…not.

As I said, I am not in the mood. You see, I’ve got chills and yes, they’re multiplyin’ [I just told you about it…stud] and while I’m pretty sure the power you’re supplyin’ isn’t anything near electrifying, I’ve got a fever of 101.5 right now. Add that to the fact that the sound of the rain against my window pane is quickly driving me insane as I lay here in bed, it’s safe to say that Ren is not a happy camper. Think Camp Granada unhappy camper and I don’t feel like linkin’ y’all to it so if you don’t know what I mean, I suggest that you Google it.

Anyway, I’m lettin’ my not in the moodness—it wasn’t a word but it is now—fuel the fires of mine imagination as I get into this one.

♥

And that whole not caring about if it’s reckless or not thing? Yeah, that’s real. I honestly don’t give a gotdamn, a fanga in the middle, a stick of celery or a jar of Ampro Styling Gel—Berry Ice cuz that’s how I roll—if going in in the fashion in which I’m about to go in is reckless or not.

Who gon’ check me boo?

*crickets sound as a tumbleweed rolls across your screen*
Yerp, that’s what I thought; nobody and if there was someone brave enough to try to check me it deffy ain’t you and not this fool either.

So, if you’re a reader, a lurker or follower of mine (Infamous) Life and Times, you may remember a few posts back when I posted "If Ignorance is Bliss; You Must Be the Happiest Person I Know". If you’re none of the above or didn’t happen to see the blog, look, I linked it for ya so you have no excuse for not reading it now. Busters. Anywho, I posted the comment that I left on my big bro Torkalina the Rebelina’s  blog where I pretty effectively summed up the situation and responded to this whack ass dis track

Yeah, I know. He totally bodied the track and made Tork and the rest of The Rebels wanna give up rap and stick to their respective day jobs right?

[-__________-]

Yeah…no. Deffy didn’t.

Like I said last time, Dee Woodz took it upon himself to respond and show Senor Sanrio how a proper dis track is supposed to sound

This is what he lyrically did to Senor Don Gato

 

Now, had Mister Kitty even a modicum of common sense about himself, he would’ve given up an let that be the end of things, but alas, that’s not the case. If it was, I wouldn’t be sitting here talkin’ about him now would I?

After taking some time to lick his wounds, HK “fired back”—*side eye*—by posting this to his blog:

Sorry, for the late post on the music people....I had other projects to do. But here yall go, some new ish in response to Dee Woodz diss to me....My question is when is Torkatonka gonna respond back??? I thought son was a rapper???? No better yet I thought he was A REBEL, lol.

and posted an “Ether” dis…

But this nigga fxcked up and called the shxt “Either”

*rolls eyes*

A few things…

1) Both Nas and Ron Brownz should slap the shit out of you for talking shit over such an iconic beat. When you use “Ether”, you’re supposed to body the track, not sit there and be what you think is funny and/or witty by making stupid comparisons. Torkaveli may sound like Machiavelli and Magnum Dollars may be equated to Reed Dollaz in your poor dazed and oh so very confused mind but let’s take a look at your name shall we? It’s an amalgam—which when used in this context is a mixture in case you weren’t in the know—of famous rappers names isn’t it Shawnjay?

2) Regardless of you and your quote unquote high ego dude, you’re obviously offended so don’t try to front and act like you aren’t. If you weren’t offended, you wouldn’t keep comin’ out wit’ dis after dis now would you?

3) “DMV Rebel? Hmm…Hell no”

He said it. Not me.

*shrugs*

4) I see where he was tryin’ to go wit’ his wrestling and MMA references; however, let’s not forget that it does’t take much to knock out Kimbo Slice. And lyrically son? Yeah, you don’t bring much to the table so I’ma have to ask that you let that marinate in your spirit for the next time. But um…let Mag ad-lib on a track and he’s Seth Petruzelli’d you

5) How the hell do you hawk an effeminate sounding loughie?

6) Why is it a problem that his voice has too much bass? And I’m pretty sure that he’d rather sound like Serius Jones than you.

7) The track is 2:20. He “rapped” for about 45 seconds. Um…step ya bars up.

8) The Rebels didn’t ask for him to dis them. Then again, this isn’t a dis.

I’m done.

♥

Hmmm; I wonder:

What do you think the odds of him comin’ at me sideways are if he happens to see this?

What do you think the odds of me not givin’ a fxck and responding in turn are?

It’s pretty much a sure bet right?

*sigh*

Forgive me; I’m just talkin’ my shxt again.

lol

--LauRenxExCarter

 

Sox and Naked Flix Don’t Mix

I said that I needed to come up with some new, fresh and fun ways to start off these posts, but guess what? I haven’t come up with anything just yet so…

How be thee knaves; what it is, what’s crackin’, poppin’ and all those other sounds that you should probably go to a doctor to get checked out?
Ren is…well, Ren is how she usually is.

Or is it how I usually am? Hmm; I wonder, I wonder…

Anywho, I’m marginally cute if you squint with your left eye and blink rapidly with your right; cold as shxt in this damn house; missing Him by more than a little bit and bored by a lot multiplied by six, divided by four and added to three.

Yerp, it’s that deep right now.

So, as is my normal fashion when I’m so bored that I can make an almost logical equation with it, I’m writing. Yay. Forgive me if I don’t sound all hype and excited right now. The time is currently 12:50 AM on this, the 14th anniversary of my little sister Boogie’s life and I just can’t be bothered wit’ the hype excitedness right now. Not that the time matters or anything like that, I’m just not feelin’ it tonight.

:[

No matter,the show must go on and go on it will.

♥

I know that I’m about to put myself on blast with this one but a few things:

1) I don’t give a chipped black nail polished—shut up, I’ll repaint my nails later—fanga in the middle about what you have to say at this moment. This blog is The Life and Times of (The Infamous) Mz. Ren where the infamy ensues on a not so regular basis. This is NOT The Life and Times of (The Totally Not This Damn Cool) Person Who’s Not Ren So No One Really Gives A Gotdang Anyway. Sorry to break it to ya. The only way that I’ll care about what y’all have to say is you start droppin’ me blog comments but since that’ll probably never happen…

*intergalactic side eye from the biggest crater on the moon*

2) I’m old enough to talk about what the eff I’m about to talk about. Whatchu gon’ do, snitch me out to mi madre?

3) At least I’m honest enough to admit to it unlike some of y’all

*pointed side eye then eye roll*

So, I said that to say this:

Ren watches porn.

Like…more than not a lot of it.

*Kanye Shrug*

To be clear, I’m not participating in any of the goings on. In fact, I’m a card carrying virgin—I know, y’all probably didn’t think they made us anymore. Me equals the last of a dying breed.—who deffy isn’t thinkin’ about givin’ the bidness to any of the guys that live around here.

I don’t do or date Lansing boys as I know far too many of the niggas and know exactly how they think and talk. I don’t have the patience for that shxt and I'll be damned like a Republican’s soul to the deepest, darkest, hottest pit of hell if I lose my virginity to some nigga that's gon’ tell erryone. That ain’t the biz and it deffy ain’t gon’ work for me.

Damn, let me get back on track wit’ this one.

While I’m not having sex or any sexual contact outside of with myself [I joke with you…*cough* lol jp] I do watch others participate in sextracurricular activities on film. Why?
Um…because I can. Plus I watch to pick up techniques and positions.

Don’t front like you don’t have things in your mental rolodex of sexual positions that you wanna try because I sure as hell won’t lie to y’all.

Like I said a few run-on sentences ago, I watch more than not a lot of porn. During my perusal of adult entertainment, I’ve witnessed a lot of shxt that’s irked me and now I bring you

Ren’s

[Shortish Because She’s Dumb Tired Right Now]

List of Shxt She Hates to See and/or Just Doesn’t Understand in

Porn

1) Bad Weave and Ugly Hair in General

Now I know that I should be concentratin’ on the fxckin’ that’s goin’ down and on some level I am, but seeing fxcked up tracks and bad hair is distracting. One of my guy friends sent me a link to some flick a month or so back and I couldn’t even get into the movie. Wholetime—1 word like my DC boys do—I was watchin’ I was thinkin’ to myself

“This bxtch’s weave and hairline start at her damn ears. Double you tea eff is that ish?”

2) Excessive Amounts of Oil Bein’ Poured Over Some Ho’s Ass

I really need someone to explain to me what the fxck is so damn appealing about a lavender baby oil scented and slicked ass because I for one don’t get that shxt at all. Sure, for the anal scenes you’re gonna—hopefully—need lube which the oil is perfect for but to continue to pour oil on some chick long after the anal part of the scene is doin’ the damn most.

Speaking of doin’ the most with oil, these people so damn extra with the way that they apply it.

In a water can son?

Really?

In a water gun?

Word?

[-__-]

Get on my damn nerves smh.

3) Socks

I effing hate to see socks in porn. Shoes too. Deffy hate to see shoes and socks at the same damn time.

Not sure why but that annoys the hell outta me!

4) Random Ass Articles of Clothing

I look at it like this: If you have the majority of your clothes off, take all of them off dammit! Leaving on a little half shirt while you’re pullin’ a reverse cowgirl on the very well endowed man you happen to be fxcking on camera will not make for a better money shot. Y’kno, just to put that out there.

5) Unattractive Moans

Yeah…you know how I briefly touched on number 88 on my list of things that make me unique and ergo better than you’ll ever be list? Um…yerp, not gon’ go into that just yet, but just think about that whole

I got a way wit’ words that has left more than a few people gasping for air and speechless

thing and thing about this particular entry on the list.

Ugly moans are off putting as shxt. Someone sent me this clip of a deaf chick who wanted to be a porn star and if you sound anything like her, you should pack it the eff up now.

Fake moans are off putting as shxt too. Look bxtch, the nigga ain’t even touchin’ you, but here you are moanin’ like you’re in the very throws of ecstasy. Shut that ish up.

♥

A’ight, that’s it for now.

Please believe that I’m not done wit’ this list, but to borrow some slang from mine DC people:
”I’m ji tired jo”

so at 3:46 AM I’m callin’ it a night.

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

*sigh*

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ca-frickin’-pishe?

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

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

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

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

*shrugs*

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

Sue me bxtch; at least I admit it.

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

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

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

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

A few things…

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

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

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

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

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

At all y’all.

He didn’t show up at all.

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

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

Nothin’.

At.

All.

No call on Monday.

No page on Tuesday.

No email on Wednesday.

No instant message on Thursday.

No smoke signal on Friday.

No telegraph on Saturday.

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

Not.

Nary.

A.

One.

[>_<]

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

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

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

So enough about him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

just like a pirate.

Ask him.

…LMFAOOOOOOO

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

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

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

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

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

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

[I said it. And?]

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

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

Me promise.

*crosses fingers behind back*

lol, jp.

♥

And If You Seek Becky...

*annoyed sigh that’s enhanced by the fact that I’m sick and in a choke a nigga type mood based on the stupidity that’s currently occurring*

What it is y’all, how ya livin’ and and all the other stereotypical things that I could and just might say. How’s life treatin’ ya? Not that I actually care or anything like that, I’m only asking because I have a bit of decency and courtesy about mine self. It’s nice to ask how others are doing.

Not that I’m concerned wit’ niceness, if you read the blog on the reggy you know that I am not sir and/or madam, but I just thought that I’d throw that out there.

ANYWAY, now that the quote unquote niceties are out of the way, I can get back to this blog then go lay my sick ass back down before I use the trashcan next to my bed as the medium with which I will be calling Earl.

*cracks knuckles*

So…Algernod Washington, or as Ren likes to call him, “that short, freak nasty, fake ass “goon” goblin lookin’ muddasucka” Plies has a new album coming out, “Goon Affiliated” , and the lead single, “Becky” is a song about fellatio. Not that we should expect anything less from the King of Goon-Goblin Land, I’m just sayin’.

I hear this gotdamn song in my nightmares—along wit’ His voice but that’s another blog—it gets so much play on the radio. When I hear prepubescent children screamin’ “Gimme that Beckaaaay” not only do I want to slap the ish out of their parents but I wanna go and choke Mr Unfunny Comedian Person Dude because he works for the Lansing station that’s “Number one for hip-hop and R&B”. Which would insult the hell outta me if I was hip-hop, it already irks me as I am a hip-hop fiend but I digress.

Below is the cinematic gem that is Plies' “Becky”. Sit back, relax and catch a contact and when you're done being amazed at the pure genius of the vid, scroll down to keep readin'.

So…a few things I feel the need to touch on:

1) It’s a recession. Yeah, I get that. Ray-Ray, Tyrone and Pookie informed everyone at the last meeting of the Consistently Broke Niggas of America but um…what’s wit’ all these regular ass lookin’ video girls? Like I said, times is hard and that I understand but um…these bxtches look almost as bad as the ones in the "Halle Berry" video by that kid wit’ the natural disaster name that escapes me at the moment.

Typhoon Mike?

Earthquake Jim?

Whateva, you know who I mean.

2) it boggles mine mind to believe that this lady

who bears an uncanny resemblance to my second grade teacher—if she had long hair and didn’t have a permanent bxtch scowl tattooed to her face—gives “Becky” and it hurt my heart to see her dance out of the store like that. Ew.

3) The big, slutty blonde hair…

Kim Zolciak?

I wish there was a close up on her face…wait, if it really is Kim, no I don’t. The spiders that live in her eyelashes might attack me.

4) Since this stupid song has been out, I’m pretty sure that I’ve seen this sign

So ladies—and maybe a few gentlemen, who is Ren to judge?—if you got that ill deep throat, dude’ll work for ya.

5) I hope and pray that I’m not the only one who was disturbed on the soul level by the line of basic and dead ass wrongness at “Becky’s BBQ”. I’m not even screen cappin’ that ish, I refuse to have to relive the mess once more. That chick wit’ the rather unfortunate body shape in the white tank and jeans hurt my feelings wit’ her zillions and baby blue eye shadow. And to the heffa in the fishnet whatever the hell she was wearing lookin’ like she just hopped off her ho stroll for A Pimp Named Ice Water…girl, bye.

6) Why does Plies look the type to be cool wit’ cops like this?

7) I’m not even gon’ speak on the chick who was goin’ for a run in the video wit’ her effed up, oh so unattractive dye job because we know that in the extended cut of the video we get to see her get hit by a Hummer. Naw, I’m playin’, but in all seriousness ladies, if you can’t afford to get your hair dyed either save up for it or have a friend of yours who you trust—not that backstabbin’ heffa precious who stole Raequonathan from you—do it because bad dye jobs are NOT the biz in 09.

8)

Jesus isn’t the only one who wept.

9) Hol’ up…

“Goons” wear pink?

I suppose that if Cam’Ron can so can they

*shrugs*

10) I flat out refuse the life of the soccer mom. Flat out refuse. I can’t with her or her PT Cruiser.

*sigh*

There was so much more that I could speak on, so much more but, ya girl currently has company and the Sausage McMuffin’ that they brought me for breakfast is gettin’ cold.