…Can I talk my shit again?

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.}

Furor Scribendi

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.
♥

Don’t Call Me Up When the Snow Comes Down

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.
♥

Day Four: I Write Sins AND Tragedies

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.

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

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

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.

♥

Where’s the Figgy Pudding Bxtch?

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

♥

Who’s the Master? Sho-Nuff—The Shogun of McDonalds

Hey hey people, princes, paupers and…damn.

I’m not about to lie, I really wanna say pedophiles right now. But I won’t. I’ll just think that quietly to myself as I allow you to come up with your own word for people or a group or classification of people that starts with a “P”.

How be all of thee anyway? Not that y’all butt-monkeys ever respond in the form of a blog comment or anything like that so why the eff should I care how you are? Shxt…

As for me, I’m doin’ alright I suppose. Coolin’ at home while the lil sis is knocked out on the couch, half studying from my Philosophy book and half cursing this stupid retainer that my orthodontist tightened last week. I’m also on Twitter and thinking about the shxt I’m going to say in 3/23 and beyond. I’ve decided that I’m gonna completely re-haul the idea that I had for the remainder of the days.

What I have so far is alright I guess, but shortly after I posted day two the other day, I decided that I couldn’t keep going that same route. There’s far too much that needs to be said to go about it that way, so, starting with day three, I’ll be doing something a little different.

*sigh*

If you hadn’t guessed, I’m usually the one who’s like this

 

about the things that I do for other people. By my way of thinking, you’re lucky enough that I took time out of my (infamous) life to even do somethin’ for you so you get what you get and that’s the way it’s gon’ be. But not this time. I give more than a damn about what’s said to Him because there’s this foolish part of me that thinks I’ll be able to make a difference of some kind. Ugh…

*rolls eyes*

Enough on that for the time being though.

I wrote but didn’t post this one on Friday after I hijacked my Nana’s Ethernet to post my blog about the drooling man and dog faced heffa tryin’ to get buck who was gon’ get bucked the eff down on the CATA.

Let’s get into it shall we?

♥♥♥

*takes a sip of my McDonald’s Mocha Frappe and sighs*
How art thou on this warm-ish, rainy night? Everything alright wit’ y’all? Not tryin’ to steal your kids or younger siblings Halloween candy are you? Because that’s bad. You know good and gotdamn well that you can go to Target on the first and get a bag of your favorite candy for 50-75% off. Don’t be mean and take little Jimmy’s—or Jamarquion’s depending on you and your family. I’ve made up in my mind that at least one person with a name that would make you believe that their parents didn’t want them to have an actual job has visited my blog. I see you Shanquinetta, Alexzandrionique and Walmartavia—candy. Even though I would routinely steal the Twix, Reese’s, Dots, Snickers…hell, I would take all of Boogie’s candy. But we ain’t talkin’ about me right now. And don’t try to come at me sideways wit’ some:
”Practice what you preach”
ish either.
I’m not a woman of the cloth; you won’t catch me in the pulpit. Ergo, I’m not a preacher. I’m just someone tellin’ you what not to do. Consider me a law maker of these Interwebnets.

Anyway, let me hurry up and do this so I can enjoy my Friday night spent at the crib. I’ve got this caffeine and chocolate coursing through mine system and I’m bouncy like a muhfxcka. I am like forreal bouncing right at this moment and I’m tryin’ to calm myself down, but this Mocha Frappe got me hyper.

Speaking of which, let me get into this one so I can go bounce off the walls.

♥

Shortly after I posted my last blog, my mom and I left my Nana’s house and headed to Mickey-D’s since mi madre wanted coffee and Biggby—the cheaper and better alternative to whack ass Starbucks—was closed. So, we pointed our car in the direction of the nearest pair of golden arches for some caffeinated, chocolate drizzled, whip creamed crack in the form of a Mocha Frappe.  Even though it was about 10 PM at the time, the line inside was insane, so we went through the drive through and…I can’t even do it tonight, I’ve got too much energy to be sittin’ at my laptop right now so I’m gonna cut this like way short. In fact, you get bullets tonight boys, girls and all things in between. Maybe, let’s see where the spirit moves me.

• There is this guy that the management has put on the window late at night to coerce hungry female parishioners to buy more food because he has a voice straight out of 70’s radio. Dead ass. The way he asks “do you want fries with that” would make Barry White and Isaac Hayes proud. I bet you a dollars worth of Canadian quarters (which I’m still mad that I can get out of a vending machine but I can’t put in) that he says “Ya damn right” after every order. Yes, Shaft style.
• Every time that we hit the drive-thru and he’s workin’ the window and subsequently the order box thingy that I don’t know the name of nor do I care to find out what it is, I die a little bit inside due to silent laughter. His voice does not go with his body and even before I can’t see him, the image that I have of him in my head gives me the giggles in the worst way. In fact, the very first time I saw him I almost had an asthma attack. Ren doesn’t have asthma. Yes, it’s that’s deep.
• I was under the impression that home-boy was black based on his voice. Believe me, if you actually get the chance to hear him you’ll think the same thing. However, this couldn’t be further from the truth ladies and gents. Now, a bold individual I may be, but I’m not bold enough to snap a picture of dude. But uh…this is what he looks like

Dead. Ass.

Now, no disrespect to fat-boy wanna be slim dude but…

Eff. I just lost my ticket and my train of thought pulled out of the station without me. Let it marinate. You’ll understand soon. Got it now?
*pats you on the head*
Good for you.

Um…yeah, this caffeine is makin’ me do very weird, random things and I’m literally bouncing in my seat while I’m on the phone talkin’ to Jayo number three who’s actin’ mighty reckless and far above his station. So, before I bounce my ass out of this house to go deal wit’ this fool, let me throw up my tracks of the day.

First up we’ve got an oldie but a goodie for fans of the boy-band set of the 90’s like myself. “Crazy For You” by NSYNC.

Don’t say anything out the way either. I was in love with them from 4th to 6th grade and I swore up and down that I was gonna marry Justin and Lance but have an affair with JC. I may still have a chance with Justin but Lance…well, we could go shoe shopping together, that’s almost as good in my book.

Next up, we have “Callin’ Me” by K.Sparks co-starring Tina Quallo off of his album Super Senior. One of the better albums that I’ve heard this year, deffy worth the space on your hard drive.

Last but certainly not least is a track by my lyrical soulmate Wale and that nigga who needs to invest in Carmex Gucci Mane, “Pretty Girls” off of Wale’s soon to be released album Attention Deficit.

Now…thanks to the bootleggers that make my gmail happy on a daily basis, I have no less than seven links to the leaked version, all seven of which I will not be linking on here. Support the DMV and please support hip-hop and go out and buy the album on the November tenth.

I most definitely will be.

Now, to handle this fool…

♥

Ooh, He So…Artistic [?] Is That the Word I’m Lookin’ For?

*sigh*

I’m still not done wit’ my paper so this one shall be short. Don’t let your eyes or brain rejoice just yet though, I do have somethin’ for y’all to get into.

Kanye, Kanye, Kanye…

What the FXCK is this ish?

Let me finish this paper and maybe, just maybe I’ll have the words for this fxckery later on.

♥

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.

If Ignorance Is Bliss; You Must Be the Happiest Person I Know [Updated!]

I wonder how many people are gonna think that this title is about them, get pissed off and decide not to read? Hmm…

*rolls eyes*

Oh well. If you wish to believe that I’m sitting here blogging about and taking shots at you while I'm freezing my marginally cute ass off then please sir and/or madam, go right ahead. Persuasive as I am, I can’t convince you of something that you don’t wanna believe no matter how hard I try so if you think that I’m takin’ a shot at you, do what ya does and keep it movin’.

*shrugs*

Anyway, what it is, what it look like and damn if I don’t need to think up some other stereotypical nonsense to greet y’all with. That’s gettin’ old. How is everyone doin’ today?
Well, depending on the answer that I hope you didn’t say out loud seeing as this is a blog post and I’m not technically talking to you:
”That’s good”

or

“That’s too bad, hope it gets better for ya.”

As for how I’m doin’ on this marvelously cold inside of my house type of day, consider my mood to be:
”meh”

I’ve got a whole chorus line of people in hooker heels doin’ the Chicken Head, A-Town Stomp and The Hustle on my last good nerve and once more, if I were to say shxt I’d be the one in the wrong. Which makes absolutely no sense to Ren seeing as everybody, they momma and their brothers baby-momma’s next door neighbors drug dealers girl on the side will be quick to tell me that I’m doin’ somethin’ to piss them off. But no matter. On to the blog.

♥

Along with H1N1 and the common cold, stupidity is in the air this season. Get ya face masks bxtches, you don’t wanna catch any of those! Especially not the stupidity. They’ll be able to come up with a cure for the cold before they come up with a cure for that shxt.

lol.

In all seriousness though, there do seem to be a lot of ignorant and stupid people out and about on these interwebnets and guess what? Not only do I have screen caps to prove it but I have commentary too.

Yay!!

I was on FaceBook last night answering my messages and tryin’ to ensure that my lil sis Tweek didn’t beat my score at Plock when I witnessed and got involved in the fxckery pictured below.

By the way, you may have to click on the image to read it all, may be just a smidgeon too wide and wont fit in the margins.

 Be a man and run the relationship

What.

The.

FUCK.

As you can clearly see, I had somethin’ to say on that mess but then my Twitter Hubby went and acted an ass by saying what he said.

Now, y’all know me. I couldn’t let what he said be the end of it so here’s the rest of the convo.

I know I am. Hmph.

Oh yeah, he also sent me this.

The face I sent says it all.

*rolls eyes*
I also had a super long straight faced moment when I heard this “dis track” aimed at my big bro and the Rebels.

I commented on the blog and said what the hell I had to say on that, but guess what? I’m in the mood to take screen shots so here we go:

Is this me tryin’ to get involved in some DMV beef?

Nah, not really.

Is this me using someone’s stupidity as an outlet to work off some of my frustrations since if I were to call someone out on their bullshxt I’d get told off and I don’t have the time nor the patience for jail because that’s where I’d end up for strangling said persons?
Yerp.

lol.

Well, that’s it for now, someone just got online that I really wanna talk to but at the same time I don’t because…

*sigh*

I miss us.

♥

 Editors Bloggers Note:

Now, I’m not the one to start ish…but I will instigate the hell out of a situation keep y’all updated on this “Hello Kitty” [Their name for him, not mine]  vs. The Rebels ish.

Dee Woodz of The Rebels issued a "Quick Response" to Senor Sanrio and this pretty much says it all

What These Niggas Want From Me? [*DMX Voice*] Somebody Let Me Know

Tell me what they want from me

Because I sure as hell don’t know anymore smh.
*waves  in an aggravated but cute manor seeing as I’m Ren and even when I’m aggy I’m cute with it*
What’s crack-a-lackin’, poppin’ and gyratin’ everyone and before you can try to say something about my greeting let me stop you right damn now. Ren honestly does not give a gotdamn nor a fanga in the middle about your thoughts on the way that I started this blog post. You aren’t an editor—and if you are you aren’t mine so suck on a big toe—and this is not a book that I’m trying to sell. This mine good sirs and madams is a blog post and cheap therapy for yours truly.

Now that that’s out the way, I really do need a bit of help right now and the sad thing is that I’m not even sure what the eff I did to need it!

I was “told” that my “apology” was “too late” and I’m gonna stop before I go “quotation mark crazy”.

Real shxt though; I’m confused right now as in majorly…

I hate having people mad at me and I hate not knowing how to fix it. I’m tryin’ to figure out what it is that I did or said—yes, I care that much about this—to have this person mad at me, and I’m consistently drawin’ a blank.
Da fxck did I do?
UGH!

See.

This is why I act like I don’t care about shxt. I try to clean up the mess that I’ve apparently made and I get nothing.

Wish someone would tell me what the hell I did wrong.

*sigh*

I’ll be back to my normal posts soon everyone. Found this guy who’s mixtape was so bad that it was sentenced to death by microwave by my lil bro and I may shoot a video later. It’s been a while since I’ve sat and gotten relatively random on cam for 4-7 minutes.

New video comin’ soon.

♥

Ain't Nobody Mad But The Devil...and Me

Hey y’all, how’s everyone feelin’ on what’s a cold ass Monday here in the cap city of the driest state in the whole of the U. S. of A. Michigan? Really? Is that so?

Yeah…forgive me if I don’t care.

*shrugs*

lol, I joke guys and gals, sheesh. Seems like niggas and bxtches—I call you that as I’m too lazy to find out all of your names—are offended far too easily these days. Lighten up folx, damn! I’m not sayin’ not to take life seriously, you should because it’s life but I’m sayin’, there should be a healthy dose of humor injected into your lives. Some of y’all are gon’ hate me for sayin’ this but um…

Life’s a joke and it’s on you

live and laugh it up while you can

the punch-line is a killer

Yerp. I said it.

ANYWAY, I’m gettin’ more than a little annoyed with people. As a matter of fact, as I sit here, freezin’ my ass off and losing my voice at the same damn time, I’m gettin’ straight pissed off. People—as in plural. If you’re reading this and think it’s all about you it’s not. You aren’t the only person to piss me off sir/madam/bxtch/nigga umskay?—have located my last nerve, put on a pair of 7 inch lucite heels and started doin’ the A-Town stomp all over that bxtch.

There’s a part of me that want to believe that they aren’t doin’ it on purpose; I try to see the best in people. But then I look back over our combined histories and realize:

these muddasuckas are doin’ the shxt on purpose!

They gotta be y’all.

Now, a quick question before I go and make myself a cup of tea for this aggy ass throat:

why is it that when I do the same shxt that they’re doin’ to me, I’m immature and should know better?

Yeah, okay, even I can admit that it’s immature when I do it and blah-blah-blah, I should know better. What I’m tryin’ to get at is that if I should know better, THEY should deffy know better.

I’m tired of people comin’ at me fifteen different types of reckless because I do somethin’ that they don’t like after they do somethin’ that I hate.

I bite my tongue on the reggy because believe it or not, I don’t have the time nor the patience necessary to sit and deal with someone and their attitude because believe you me, mine is enough of a hassle. But when I let loose mine tongue—that sounded hella weird. Ew.—and say what’s on my mind, people wanna get all offended and shxt then start takin’ shots and then I’ll shoot back and yeah…

It’s a bad scene.

I’m done wit’ this ish for the moment, I’m gettin’ annoyed again and I don’t have the time for that. Today is gon’ be a good day regardless of the people that are on my nerves. Had a meeting earlier and things are really lookin’ up for ya girl. Don’t wanna chance it so I’m not gonna say anything about it but like I said, today’s gonna be a good day.

Anything else before I go?

Oh…

It does suck that you couldn’t wait til November. I was really lookin’ forward to that.

*shrugs*

It is what it is I guess.

*kicks rocks because I don’t like it*

lol.

♥

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.