This blog is dedicated to all of the foolishness and ridiculousness that seems to hurl itself at me like a North Korean missile on a daily basis. This is what we'll talk about. And in my more lucid moments we may even talk about things that really matter. ;-)
The following post is a summary of why I thought the Mayan calendar was right and that shit was gonna get really real for us on December 21.
A few months ago a friend of mine (and I use the word friend loosely) sent me this jewel from a precious little lamb named Trinidad James:
It took me a full 7-10 business days to realize this shit wasn't a joke. Like this dude is dead damn serious. Rapping about mollies, gold, and niggas. All while looking like he just might be one of the last folks to step off the Underground Railroad.
I just knew that this guy was a sign that the Mayans were right. When he signed a record deal with Def Jam, I went into Doomsday Prepper mode. I hit Safeway shelves for non-perishables, toilet paper, batteries, and bottled water.
Then this happened:
A Tyler Perry movie that I think I want to see. I don't think I have to say anything more. Just know that after this happened, I began watching the sky for locusts and checking to see if the Patapsco River was flowing blood instead of water.
One of my followers sent me a video. It's Ices Brown. I said a little prayer before I pressed play. Then this happened:
First of all...why is this chick so damn greasy? Look like she bobbed for wings and thighs in Precious' bucket of chicken. This purple shirt got her giving all kinds of Grimace realness. And don't even get me started on the fact that she don't even know the words to the dang song!!
When I tell you I got down on my knees and prayed to the Good Lord for help?!? Y'all just don't understand. Ices took me to the edge and I was gonna voluntarily take a swan dive off. I also seriously considered tunneling a bunker under my apartment building. When things like this are happening in the world, you just can't take chances.
But even with all of this calamity, the world didn't end. Sweet Baby Jesus' Daddy said he chooses the hour and the minute that the world's rotations stops. It's gonna be a surprise. But that doesn't mean that y'all can keep letting foolishness happen. We have to stop giving him reasons to push fast forward.
On day 38 of wedded bliss somebody found condoms in the other's car and all hell broke loose. And Chad decided to use his cerebellum for more than thoughts of stillettos and skinny jeans and gave Eve a shot to the noggin. He was arrested and told by a judge that he couldn't go anywhere near his boo.
On day 39 of harmonious matrimony Chad began feeling the fallout of his playing head games. Homeboy got cut by the Miami Dolphins and was left with a part-time reality gig. It has to suck to be given a pink slip while you are recovering from having to force that county jail peanut butter sandwich and stale Kool-Aid down for dinner.
On day 40 of this loving union VH1 decided to chuck the deuces at the reality show of him and his betrothed showing the world their undying love for each other. Boop! *NeNe Leakes voice*
On day 41 Evelyn flipped a table, hurled some Dom P at her assistant and decided that she was over it already. And by COB she had filed papers to give her ChaddyPoo his name and number back.
So now that you are all caught up on the marital shenanigans of the Ochocinco's, let me ask you this.... Are you really surprised?
Like folks are all up in arms about this one like this wasn't a damn train wreck waiting to happen from the get go! I mean he's a an attention whore with a women's shoe fetish who's privy to pastel skinny jeans and she's an angry sack chaser with a penchant for tossing dranks issues.
Nothing good can come from that.
41 damn days.
Some people are saying this whole mess is just karma coming back on her for all of her bad ass, loud talking, drink throwing, I-slept-with-your-husband-cuz-you-a-nonmothafuckin' factor BBW behavior.
I guess it's possible. I mean every time I put bad shit out in the universe, I end up taking a blow to the head.
There's nothing like a TBI to get your mind right.
Others are saying that Evelyn shouldn't have been upset when she found the receipt for condoms. That she knew that Chad was about that philandering life before they said "I do" so she just should have carried it.
I guess that's possible too. I mean, every time I learned about a boyfriend cheating on me I figured it was something that I did to make me deserve him being an aintshit piece of shit that can't keep his willy in his trousers.
There's nothing like being betrayed by the man that you love to make you gain some perspective on the world.
There are even some that say that Evelyn likely forced Chad into the situation by being verbally abusive.
Look, we all know that Evelyn has a slick mouth on her. At times her tone alone is enough to make folks want to reach through the flat screen and shake the shit outta her. And most likely she said some shit that took Chad to another level angry.
That doesn't make what Chad did acceptable on any level though.
Now he's been told by a judge that he can't go near his wife. He's been told by his job to not show up. He's been told by his side-hustle thanks but no damn thanks.
I'm sure his girlfriend BFF Terrell Owens is offering all kinds of support and love in his time of need.
Sucks to be him. Gotta suck to be Evelyn too.
She's got no job. She's got no husband. She's got no television show. AND she's got no BFF because her homie tried to tell her to leave Chad's cheating ass alone.
Look, like I said. I don't condone domestic abuse of any kind. There are so many things that Evelyn and Chad could have done to handle their situation. Like....not get married.
As of Saturday I've been married for 4021 days. All of those days haven't been easy. It's quite likely that I've thought of murder and/or other felonious actions on at least 2000 of them. But I never acted on it. Well maybe twice, but there was no significant blood shed. So it doesn't count.
Marriage is HARD WORK. I don't think people really realize that. They see all of the pomp and circumstance of the wedding and never take the time to consider what they are going to do the day after the wedding and the days after that.
Love is not enough.
Y'all better consider compatibility, trust, finances, work ethic, credit score, criminal record, how his/her family looks, and his/her entire genetic make up before you say I do. It's not a game out here.
I really hope this is the beginning of the end of people allowing the world into their relationships and sharing all of their business on television and the innanets. If not for all of the publicity I'm sure the 85 family could have figured out a way to work this out.
No relationship will be successful if EVERYBODY has an opportunity to see what's going on and comment. Not one.
Oh and before I go, I have a small request. While y'all all are out in these streets worrying about how Adam and Steve are trying to ruin the sanctity of marriage, please do Tee a favor and consider the damage that fools who only stay married for 41 days do to it too.
This past week has been pretty damn awesome for me.
I turned 34. I stood with one of my besties as she married the love of her life. Tom Phan gave me the pedicure of life. And the men of Chicago found out that I'm beautiful (I actually plan on traveling the Earth and sharing my beauty with the world, Chi-town was just the first stop on my Share-It-Tee [get it "charity"? don' judge my cleverness.] world tour, dates coming soon).
I'm still recovering from all of that. I'm experiencing a delightful combination of jet lag, sleep deprivation, and bullshit overload.
Like I said. The weekend was UH-MAZE-ING.
I'm still on a high from it all. I'm talking smiles, a couple jigs and some jazz hands.
In fact, I wasn't planning on being in a bad mood until at least next Thursday.
All that changed this morning when I logged onto Facebook. I know, I know. I set myself up by doing that alone. My FB newsfeed is where struggle and hard times have a permanent residence.
Anyway, I log on expecting to see some regular run of the mill fuckery. Well, my aintshit friends certainly didn't let me down.
Look at what I just saw*:
Ma'am?
And Jesus wept.
I'm officially pissed the hell off.
Rasputia done went and decided to play Fashion Star and created nothing but epic failure.
Sooooo.....we just making 2 piece sets outta wife beaters now? Like were there no man made fabric short sets left on the clearance rack at Dot's for this broad? Where there no skirts in her size on the Rainbow clearance racks?
What exactly is this kind of ensemble called? Why not wear a tube top down there? Or just walk out in just your Spanx and call it a unitard? Not that either one of those would be better.
Would wearing a regular ass skirt have been too much trouble?
I mean, I know Juneteenth and July 4th just passed, but you just gonna celebrate by granting your ass and saddle bags freedom through the fuckin armholes of an undershirt in public?
Hanes didn't create the awesome cottony comfort of this tee shirt so that it would be used like this! I'm certain when they designed it, the thought that the racerback would be used to swath the crack of somebody's ass was never, ever, ever considered.
No ma'am.
Who cracks open a fresh 3 pack with such dark and dismal thoughts as this?
Times like these I wish I had the mental capacity to invent a human delete button. I swuhfogawd I'd erase this heffa off the face of the Earth!
Shit like this is why we are experiencing this damn heatwave. Y'all can call it global warming if ya want to, but it's just Satan preheating his ovens.
You better get your lives right and start calling out folks who engage in this kind of chicanery. You can sit there and pretend like this don't matter, but I'll be damned if I let broads like this drag me down with them.
Nah. Right now The Good Lord is sitting back and taking notes on which citizens of the universe have no problem with these temps. I'm gonna sit here with all my fans pointed at me, the AC on arctic, my feet in a bucket of ice, and eating Klondike bars so that there is no confusion when He's handing out backstage passes to the Throne Room.
*Full disclosure: This weekend I personally participated in all types of shenanigans, fuckery, and hoodrat shit. But since no felonies were committed or Commandments were broken (that I can remember) I still have room to judge.
I had the most interesting conversation with The Kid this morning. It all began with him talking about getting his yearbook signed by his classmates, then it took a left turn that had me reeling (well not really, but I did cuss a little bit).
It went a little something like this:
Him: Mama, I think I'm gonna take my yearbook to get it signed by my friends.
Me: Sounds like a good idea to me.
Him: Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get some phone numbers.
Me: Really? From who?
Him: My friends. Some of them are girls. *smile*
Me: Interesting. But, you don't have a phone, so how are you going to call these friends that are girls? Him: Funny you should mention that. I think it's time for me to get a cell phone.
Me: No shit?
Him: Yeah, all my friends have cell phones.
Me: Really?
Him: Airick has a Blackberry, Kimora has an Iphone, *goes on to name several other children with smart phones*
Me: Wow. Well, let's do this. You write them all letters this Summer and tell them to use their paltry imaginations and pretend that they are texts.
Him: Dang Mama. You just shattered my greatness. I mean I'm gonna be in the 3RD GRADE!! *sigh*
Me:
Soooo....coolness in the 2nd going on 3rd grade is a cell phone?
This dude seriously came out of his face asking for an iPhone.
How on Earth are there people walking these streets thinking it's okay for children who can barely wipe their own asses to have rollover minutes?
I mean, I know this is a technological generation and all but I'll be damned if I let a dude that doesn't have a close and person relationship with FICA rock with Siri on the regular. No ma'am.
No way I'm going to add a kid who thinks that it's completely possible that his super powers will manifest any day now to my Friends and Family plan. I'll mess around and have all kinds of calls to Goku, Spiderman, and Thor on my bill. No bueno.
But I tell you what I will do....
I'll dig this Nokia out of the 1996 crate and he will deal.
I'll tie 2 Dixie cups to a string and let him and his friends figure it out.
I'll give him a box full of spare buttons and foil and tell him to pretend like his name is Phineas or Ferb.
I don't have time for this foolishness. I need you parents to let your kids be kids for just a little while longer. Hell, we already know they are the generation that's going to end it all. Why the hell are y'all rushing shit?
I thought I'd start of this edition of "Shit I Should Never See" with a gif that pretty much shows everything that happened to me the moment I laid eyes on the picture that is the subject of today's post. It's one of those things that you feel like if you blink slow enough, it will be gone once you open your eyes.
I'm sure you'll understand once you get a chance to check the shit out for yourself.
Eenie, meenie, miney, NO!!
This morning I woke up to see the red message light flashing on my cell. I fell asleep in the middle of an extremely hilarious text conversation with the BFF, so I just knew I was going to wake up to some unprecedented foolishness.
Never could I have ever imagined this epic level of tomfoolery. Not ever.
I'll tell you right now, this is not the kinda shit you need for a 6 am damn wake up call!
I mean, really? This heffa was comfy enough with her position in the universe to put on (what I assume to be) a onsie!
Although, due to the placement of the FUPA, I can't really be sure.
*sigh*
I really can't. I just can't.
There's so much wrong with this! I'm all for self-esteem and what not, but this is where I draw the line. You should never love yourself so much that you are willing to subject the rest of the world to looking at you whilst you walking around looking a hot, flaming, surface of of the Sun flaming mess!!
This is not okay!!
Anyone who finds this acceptable has to have a soul filled with darkness, deception, and the woes of the downtrodden. .
How is it okay for her to be walking these streets looking like Rasputia went and got lost in an alternate PBS dimension?
Can the Teletubbies sue her for defamation?
If you move the antennae on her head, will her eyes straighten up?
I guess the really important question would be: WHERE IN THE HELL ARE HER FRIENDS???
I can pretty much guarantee that my friends wouldn't allow me to leave my closet looking like this, let alone be seen in pictures or on the streets. No ma'am. I'm pretty sure they like me enough to tell me I look the fool. In fact, I'm almost certain a fight of some sort would break out before I could make out of the front door. A good girlfriend will knock you clean out in the comfort of your own abode before she lets you embarrass yourself and all of your ancestors by looking like Tinky Winky and 'em's long lost cousin.
That's what friends are for.
Nothing in my day has gone right since I laid eyes on the heffa. So, I'm respectfully requesting a mulligan.
No way a good law-abiding citizen of the universe like Tee should have to suffer through a bad day because of someone else's piss poor decisions.
For those of you keeping count, this is sign #98739429404 that the Good Lord is pull Earth's rotation back faster than Kid Capri does a record on his turntables.
Get your life right. The clock End of Days bomb keeps on ticking...and The Big Guy just trimmed a few feet off of the fuse.
Me and a friend were having a conversation the other day.
This friend was explaining to me how you can no longer cut children from teams or school activities. Now because my child is younger, I'm not well versed on all the ins and outs of school sports politics. I only know about shit like wee ball, youth basketball, and kung fu (The Kid is a beast with the left chop-right kick combo y'all).
Anyway, we were talking about how some of these kids that aren't cut suck donkey balls at whatever sport they are playing. But because of the rule you have to let them play.
In my opinion, and here in Tee's World we know it's the only one that matters, that's WACK!!! If you suck you shouldn't be on the team. Point blank period. Be a towel boy, go fetch water, shit join the Team Trainer Corps, but get the entire fuck off the field!!!
I hate the idea that all kids get a ribbon. The fact that there are no losers anymore is what's wrong with the world.
Pussification is one of the reasons bullying is so rampant these days. Everybody wants to be nice and there are no consequences for the kids that are wack. Look, I've been bullied it's not fun. And I'm not saying that it's not a real problem. What I'm saying is the way that these problems are being addressed are not the correct way. When I was being bullied I ran home crying. You want to know what happened? Big Daddy locked me out of the fucking house and told me not to bring my crying ass home until somebodies ass was kicked. I've carried that lesson in my heart and soul since I was 7 years old. The last person that tried to bully me ended up with an eye patch for the Summer.[2]
And you want to know what else? I've been cut from teams. And I cried about it and I felt bad. But you want to know what happened? Big Mama said, "Girl get it together. So what you ain't make it on THAT team. You're good enough to make another." And I believed her. I found something that I was good at and I did make another team. And we were ALL-STARS.
But these days, instead of playing outside, working hard at your craft, practicing hand to hand combat, and learning how not to be an all around loser, we've got a generation of vitamin D deficient simps who don't know battle outside of a fucking Worlds of Warcraft level.
Truthfully, it's really not the kids faults. I blame the parents. I'm quite sure the reason why everybody gets a ribbon on my sons b-ball team is because little LuQuane's daddy was extra wacktackular with his crossover and got cut from every team in every league in his hometown. So now we have to suffer through watching LuQuane fumble, fall, and score goals for the other team because his daddy just wasn't good enough.
Fuck that.
I say bring back team cuts. Bring back the sucky feeling you get when you get 2nd. Bring back the big shiny trophies and medals for first and the bargain bin homemade ribbons for everybody else. Bring back touchdown celebration dances and the art of talking shit to your opponent. Bring back intimidation and the ability to make your opponent feel like they belong on the bottom of your shoe.
It's what the world needs.
Pussification is the reason why some many of today's youth are making piss poor decisions. No way a kid who knows the feeling of real life consequences would walk out of the house like this:
Seriously ma'am?
Only people who have walked pussified streets would feel safe walking around like this with no fear of retribution.
This ain't right!!
Pussification is the reason why Drake sells out stadiums.
Pussification is the reason why a man wearing skin tight chartreuse skinny jeans is acceptable.
Pussification is the reason why McDonald's started selling microscopic fries with their Happy Meals.
Pussification is the reason why folks like Rush Limbaugh can pop off without feeling the loving force of 5 knuckles to his jaw immediately afterward.
*sigh* Y'all gonna get enough of letting shit like this slide. I fully expect someone like this to end up being the POTUS and there won't be anything any of us can do about it. Hopefully, the Good Lord will see fit to press pause on Earth's rotation before then.
[1]Pussification: v. the act of turning something into a pussy. Also see bitch made, punk, aintshit. [2]True story.
.
I have a friend named The Good Reverend Doctor, I'll call him TGRD because typing all of that out more than once would be more keystrokes than I care to deal with. Now, TGRD is an educated young man. He's got all kinds of degrees and most people would think that he's a fairly intelligent dude.
Well, here's the thing about TGRD. With all of the theology, grammar, mathematics, and other stuff that he knows that would make people think that he actually uses the brain in his head, he's got no damn sense at all! Zilch. This guy...this guy is the one who supplies me with most of my foolishness fixes. Not because he knows that it makes me happy. He does it because he's one of the only other fools in this universe that get the same kind of pleasure out of pure, unadulterated fuckery that I do.
So with all of that said, I guess I should tell you that today's post is dedicated to TGRD. But because the conversation that we had led me to look on these innanets for some foolishness to discuss and I came across a story that touched my soul. It's a real life tale of hunger and the will to survive. Kind of like The Hunger Games but with prostitutes, undercover fuzz, and drive-thru windows instead of Katniss, Peeta, and 'em.
So, please thank TGRD - missionary, teacher, fuckery fanatic for sending me off into the wild blue yonder to look for this shit. It's pretty much all his fault.
Take some time out of your glorious day to click the link from The Miami Herald. I'll be waiting to discuss when you get back:
What the entire fuck is really going on with people these days?
What exactly would you call this kind of crime? Mackin' for McDoubles? French Fried Flatbackin?
Look, I've felt the horrible twinge of an empty belly a few times in my life. But never, have I ever thought I'd head over to the local drive-thru to hand out BJs for burgers and fries!! I think far to highly of mysef. There's so many things that I could do before I even considered offering up The Precious for bargain bin prices. I mean, where there no Red Lobsters or Olive Gardens close by? If you are gonna give up some tail at least have the courtesy of covering it with a nice cloth napkin before the deed is done.
Jesus be some table manners.
It takes some real, live balls to stand in front of a statue of the great Ronald McDonald and offer up nook for $2.75! I mean, ma'am is your vajayjay not even worth the high ticket items like McRib or Big Mac? Not even one of those sweet and refreshing strawberry and banana smoothies or a hot beverage from the McCafe?
What would Grimace do?
I'm so outdone by this foolishness.
Just in case you were wondering, that cool breeze you just felt was our time on Earth speeding right past us. This is reason #43459445632358.187 that the world is coming to an end. The Good Lord didn't jack Adam's rib for us to be making these kinds of piss poor decisions ladies. Damn.
I know it's been a month of Sunday's since I've been around these parts. I apologize. I've had a very mean case of writer's block. Seems like I've been getting it a lot these days. I mean it's not like there wasn't anything for me to write about.
Luigi opened his big mouth and said that Trayvon Martin was murdered because of his hoodie...and then gave the worst apology ever.
Two old dudes got it poppin' in a dialysis clinic over a basketball game.
All of that going on and I couldn't put the keystrokes together to write about. But, you wanna know what did bring my thoughts and opinions out of hibernation?
YOLO. For you geezers and uninformed, that means "You Only Live Once". Now, I'm sure you all have heard this phrase over your lifetime. You probably even used it yourself. As in, "I really don't want to go out on a date with this guy, but you only live once! Something good might come out of it. *smile*" It's even possible that you said, "I really don't want to go to school across the country. I don't know anybody out there. But you only live once! This is a great opportunity! *smile*" Or maybe you said, "I'm scared shitless of heights, but dammit I'm gonna skydive today. You only live once! *smile*" Or maybe you even said, "I'm going to get this tattoo of Rick Flair on my ass. He's the GREATEST! You only live once! *smile*
Most people would say that YOLO is something that you attach to positive things....mostly. It's a decision you make that you wouldn't normally make because you are a safe and cautious law-abiding citizen of this universe.
YOLO is stepping outside of your comfort zone to make some shit happen...mostly.
But this notion has been bastardized. In fact, whatever you once thought that it meant is pretty much in fuckin shambles.
I would like to blame it on Weezy and Drake's frilly asses. I mean, they did write a song that has Generation Z acting a complete damn fool. But I can't. It's not a bad song. In fact, I like it. Drake and Weezy didn't say anything about making an ass of yourself anywhere in that little ditty. I'm almost positive they didn't want their shit to be the theme song for piss poor decision making.
At this point I usually post pics of the dumb shit. But I don't want this blog here to catch scabies or any other communicable disease from them. So just Google "YOLO" and hit images and see what you come up with.
On my search I found:
A young lady engaged in sexual intercourse while eating what appeared to be a plate of hash.
A creep walking through a crowded club with his peen on display.
A really skinny dude doing his business on top of what appeared to be the 600 lb. virgin on a public restroom floor.
*Please excuse me while I go fumigate my laptop and take a decontamination shower*
Anyway, I'm not sure how people can take a positive idea like this and just shit all over it in the name of making an excuse for them to be aintshit in public.
It's beyond ridiculous.
If I know you, PLEASE don't send me anything with the subject line: YOLO if you have anything to do with it. I'm telling you now, I will judge you. And then I will talk about you worse than the Mother Board talks about hoes who come to church on Easter wearing short skirts and red lipstick.
Try me if you want to.
Also, I've decided to blame this shit on Oprah. If her ass didn't want to make the world so sunshiney and full of rainbows, we wouldn't have the masses rebelling against it and ending face down ass up on your FB timeline.
YOLO is sign #456938040682-15c that the world is ending. No way Baby Jesus is gonna let us keep breathing his sweet air if you all keep this shit up.
If you've known me long enough you know that I'm all about self love, self worth, and self esteem. Tee believes that in order to be the best citizen of this universe that you can be, you really need to love, honor, and believe in yourself whole heartedly.
I've been teaching these lessons to The Kid. And for the most part, to be an 8 year old he's pretty damned confident. However, I thought I was also teaching him that with confidence you should also have a little bit of humility.
I've failed. Some of you might call it epic.
The other day we had the following conversation while playing Phines and Ferb: Across the 2nd Dimension.
The Kid: Hey Mama.
Me: Yeah?
The Kid: I'm pretty sick.
Me: *slightly panicked Mommy mode* Oh no! Really? Does your tummy hurt? Do you have a fever? Let me go get the thermometer You should probably stop playing Wii.
The Kid: Ugh! No mama, I'm not sick. I'm SICK! SICK!
Me: Wait. What? Seriously? I'm not following.
The Kid: *side eye of exasperation* *sigh* Look at me Mama. Really look at me. Do you see it?
Me: Uhhhhh....yeah?
The Kid: Yeah. *smiles with satisfaction*
Me: Hey. Umm. No, seriously. What are we talking about?
The Kid: *second side eye of exasperation* Really Mama? I'm SICK as in AWESOME! *flexes muscles*
Me: Oh. OK. *blank stare*
The Kid: *blank stare* Nevermind. Where's Daddy? He'll understand.
And just like that I'm tossed into the clueless mother category. How could this be? I taught this kid almost everything he knows about what it is to be awesome, amazing, outstanding, and stupendous.
In fact, I'll go out on a limb and say that without my RNA/DNA combo running through those veins he'd be walking around with a Pig Pen cloud and his knuckles dragging like Cro Magnon.
Not saying that Hubby's didn't supply some decent genetics. He's genetic makeup just clearly is not as awesome as Tee's.
What is this world coming to? There's actually a person walking these streets questioning my understanding of greatness! The nerve.
I know it's been a while but I'm still keeping count. This is sign number 4929349248945832.89-34c that the world is ending.
Greetings friends!!! I know, I know. I've been gone for a minute. Yes, there's been plenty of foolishness running rampant in these streets. But honestly not much has moved me enough to write about.
I mean there was Herman "Big Daddy" Cain and all of his Tiger Woods-y foolishness. ReDICKulous fellated himself and managed to gross out a whole nation of people. Chrissy molly whopped Kimbella. Ghadafi got murked. And then there's the "Frankie Leg". Every single one of those incidents had me damn near death. But not one of them made me feel that feeling in the pit of my belly.
That feeling that's kind of like half gas, half anxiety. The one that makes me feel like I just took a couple spins on a Tilt-O-Whirl after eating 15 funnels cakes. I haven't felt that feeling since the last time Ices Brown dropped down and got her eagle.
Nope. I haven't felt that way in a good long while. Almost forgot what it felt like. Until I saw this....
Look closely children....this is what a real, live dumb ass looks like.
Okay people. Look at this good stuff and concentrate real hard. Maybe you have an answer for the question that I need to ask....
What the entire fuck was this broad thinking?
Now, I've been accused of being a super fan before. In fact I proudly say that I think that Michael Joseph Jackson (R.I.P.) is the greatest of all times! *Muhammad Ali voice* But the furthest I ever went to be closer to him was get a greasy ass Jheri curl and a red, pleather jacket with zippers. No way would I ever get a tattoo of the guys name. And if I did it surely wouldn't be on my forehead in size 40 Courier New font.
And it most certainly wouldn't be a tattoo for Drake!! Drake? Like, seriously? She decides to spend the rest of her days with the softest marshmallow in Hip-Hop's moniker stuck on her forehead? I can't.
Drake is like the frilliest, softest, pinkest dude there ever was. I bet if you poke Drake in the tummy, Jelly Belly's would fall out of his ass.
If you are gonna do something like this, at least pick a guy that's had a murder charge. Or at least a traffic violation. Suge Knight comes to mind. Lil' Kim. Bushwick Bill. Hell, I'd even rather she picked Lil' Boosie.
But Drake?
Nah son.
I'm certain this dude bathes in only the purest of spring waters infused with the scents of lavender and gardenia.
But this chick chose him. The idea of it just makes me cringe. We are talking about Wheelchair Jimmy people. If anything get a tramp stamp of his wheels or that little blue tag that hangs from his rear view mirror. Not a full on brand that makes your dome look like on of those Victoria Secret collegiate shirts.
That tattoo is nothing but a bullseye. She may as well have put "Punch Me" on her head instead. That's pretty much what I want to do. Punch her right between here eyes, about a 1/2" below that "A".
The original version of this video has probably caused more seizures than Mary Hart's voice in the 80's.
But this shit right here? I'll bet this months shoe budget that somewhere in the world somebody is experiencing more side effects from this shit than anybody ever had from Phen Fen and lead paint.
Yo....if I was Beyonce I would be super pissed right now. She rocked her ass in her video. I'm talking better moves than TurboAND Boogaloo Shrimp. Anybody that can make the Stanky Leg look that sexy is just.....a boss. I'll give her that and I'm not even a fan.
I'm sure when Beyonce wrote this song she wanted women to feel powerful. She wanted us to feel like we could take on anything. Well, I'm here to tell you that some people got that message and straight twisted the message and took advantage of the community service that Mrs. Knowles-Carter was putting down.
Like Ices. Ices damn Brown. In her quest to empower herself this heffa insists on posting videos exhibiting her total disregard for all things sensical and rhythmic on these innanets.
I'm not sure who keeps sending this broad requesteses but Imma need for you clowns to cease and desist. Because Ices don't need no power. Ices needs to have a damn seat. A whole damn row of them.
And before you go and call me a hater, let me tell you that NO I don't hate Ices Brown. At least not yet, but honestly her videos are putting her really close to Oprah on my list of people to evict from the universe.
Anyway as I was saying, as of this moment, I don't hate her. I simply hate what she does.
I hate that she gets in front of webcams and shakes her jelly on a 4 beat delay. I hate that she's wearing those leggings. I hate that she has to constantly pull them up. I hate that she took this ridiculousness outside in nature and all the woodland creatures in her neighborhood had to be subjected it. I hate that she can't read. I hate that she says "requesteses". I hate that her parents haven't yoked her up and ended her on air shenanigans.
Hold up. You know what? Fuck it. I DO hate Ices. I hate everything that she stands for. And you know what else? I'm blaming Oprah for this.
So by now you know a running theme around these parts is that the end of the world is near. Well, I'm not the only person who thinks this way. In fact, I have this melanin deficient friend, we'll call him Stinkmeiner, that pretty much feels the same way as me. And yes I realize that's an old black man from The Boondocks, but trust me, the attitude is the same. This is why we get along.
Anyways, I asked him how he felt about the whole Harold Camping End of Days debacle. The following are his thoughts on the apocalypse.
_____________________________________________________________________
I was going to come up with some sort of fancy explanation/introduction for who I am and why Tee would request that I write a guest blog entry (specifically about the non-apocalypse), but then I figured you're already going to have to read and/or tolerate and/or be enraged or amused by what I write, so why not spare you the extra pain and let Tee do that instead. I'm assuming she has and that you have already read it. Thus, without further ado:
Countdown to Apocalypse!
Buckle up, kids! The end is Nigh! In 3... 2... 1...
Well...shit. Looks like we should have saved for your college education after all!
For those of you who have been living under a rock, some jackass predicted on his homebrew radio show that the world would end May 21st. Somehow, he convinced a bunch of other jackasses that this was true, and they made a bunch of noise about it and have now slunk away to lick their wounds.
So, in the wake of the recent end of the world shenanigans, we are left to wonder: Now what do we do? The Bronx Zoo Cobra has returned to his home, the world didn't end, and for some reason people continue to watch Dancing with the Stars... (who won? I didn't see it. Oooh, I hope it was Chelsea!). [Tee's Note: I didn't watch it either, but Hines Ward won. Dude, I told you to always bet on black...]
I suppose the easiest thing to do would be to continue to point and laugh, to watch the sad parade of the faithful as they slink back to their homes and their jobs (assuming they still have them). But then, really, where is the fun in that? And, truth be told, they weren't wrong. The world is ending. We just haven't noticed yet. For that matter, it's probably already over with and we couldn't be bothered to look up from our mass-media trough of shit to see it.
You want real signs of the apocalypse? They're everywhere. At this point, you should be expecting a rant about reality TV, fast food, Lady Gaga, Nicki Minaj, Justin Bieber, that stupid girl who made that "It's Friday" song or whatever the hell it is, and every other dumbass thing that young people do and/or like. And you would be right to expect it, all those things are fair game.
But let's look at the bigger picture.
Randy "Macho Man" Savage is dead. Explain to me how that tireless purveyor of the Slim Jim, who should have been so loaded with preservatives, so as to effectively be immortal, has a heart attack and dies while the entire cast of Jersey Shore continues to live?
Or, why we keep churning outResident Evil movies, and Wesley Snipes thinks it's not fair that he has to pay taxes (and I agree, he should be paying me back for that last Blade movie), and oh my God they're really making a Transformers 3 (who watches these things? [Tee's Note: I do. Hater.]) and, oh yeah, Netflix is proud to announce that White Chicks is now available for instant streaming! (To be fair, so is the Jim Carrey version of A Christmas Carol, for which I am still waiting for a personal apology).
I guess what I am saying to you people is, please for the love of God find something better to do! We're lucky that Old Testament God™ promised not to wipe us off the planet again, because man, if I were He (or She--who's to say, really?), I sure would do it! [Tee's Note: Me too. Except, I wouldn't take folks out in one fell swoop. I'd drop folks sniper style. With hopes that people would get a clue before everyone is gone.]
So here's what I want you to do. If you have kids, like, little kids, I mean, ask them what they would like to do this weekend. And, assuming it's possible, do it! Go outside, go to the park, go to Kroger. Whatever they want to do, find a reason and a way to say yes to it, and just go do something meaningful. If you have adult children, call them, and tell them that you are proud of them. Tell them that they have done a good job with their lives, and that you love them. And then...here's the big part...withhold any criticism that you may have. Just keep your mouth shut and enjoy the moment. If you don't have little kids, or adult children, call your brothers or sisters, or even friends. Just make sure that you spend some meaningful time with an actual person that does not involve television, iPad, smartphone, bluetooth, PC, or Mac. That said, for those of you who have teenagers... well, piss on them. They won't appreciate any of it anyway. ;)
So there you go. Paris Hilton is getting another show. There are now 5 different shows where people don't do anything except make cakes. Criss Angel doesn't wash his hair but still hooks up with a Playmate...
You think the world is ending? It's over, baby! Put up a billboard about that!
___________________________________________________________________________
Many thanks to Stinkmeaner for his contribution. I'm pretty much with him.
Now, remember Tee has been telling you that the end is near for quite some time now, but it seems I don't have Yahweh on speed dial telling me all his bizness like Mr. Camping does, so I can't say for sure when it will be.
Anyway, since I don't have Jehovah in my BBM contacts, I figured he sent us a clue when I came across this:
I've always said that walking into Walmart was like entering the gates of Hell. If People of Walmart isn't enough to convince you, this damn sure should be.
Seriously though? P-poppin in a grocery cart? Bussin' it wide open in the pannie aisle? Random dump truck built chicks giving it all they got in the parking lot? I can't.
I would ask who gave these clowns clearance for these shenanigans but...it's Walmart. Nobody there gives a shit about life.
I could go on for days about this one, but I don't have time. I got end of days fuckery to get into (just in case).
And if this don't happen and you see me on the news tomorrow, forward all bail donations to my PayPal.
The following tattoo is the WORST I've ever seen in my whole entire life, the life I had before, and the life I'll have after. I really don't have any words to describe the level of ridiculousness in the following video. You'll see. Be forewarned this is NOT safe for work.
Did you see that shit? So at first I thought that the tattoo on her back was the problem and I was confused. I mean it's kind of wack, but not too crazy.
Then she dropped her draws....
Oh. Em. Gee!!!
Seriously? Does this heffa seriously have her whole twat covered up with a member of the animal kingdom? And it's not even a regular cat! Like it could have been a Morris the Cat or Hello Kitty. Hell, I'd even accept Snagglepuss! At least our favorite ghey kitty walks the town with a song in his heart and a smile on his face.
Anything is better than the creep show that she's rocking right now. That is a complete and utter mess.
If you can get past the fact that she has a cat emblazened across her vulva, I'd like you to take note of the actual artwork. Do you see those angry eyes? Those teeth? I wonder what the hell she was smoking when this bright idea popped in her head? Probably a delightful meth/crack/paint fume cocktail. That mess will have you doing all kinds of unsavory shit. Like tatting a cat on your wahoo.
What I'd really like to know is who in the hell did this to her? I my mind I imagine that any artist willing to do this kind of shit would have to have had a big ole bowl of Wheaties sprinkled with crack before pulling his tattoo gun out. You would have to be some kind of high to say "OK" when a broad walks into your shop and says, "I'm looking for guy who can put a cat on my cat...get it?"
Sleepwalkers...classic movie. Google it.
I hope she got exactly what she envisioned in her mind. But I'm pretty sure she didn't. I'm sure in her mind she saw something super sexy. I believe that angry the cat that she is showing off was supposed to come across dark and sultry. Like CatWoman or Cheetara. Instead she got a Sleepwalker!!
I don't know about you, but I'd be pissed.
Please believe me when I tell you: If I were a dude, there's absolutely no way I would allow my old friend Mr. Johnson to pay Miss Kitty a visit. No way in hell. Not even a quick wave from the porch across the street. It looks like anything that gets close to that thing will be chewed up like it was in a trash compactor. No ma'am. I'm sure there's not a penis in the world that would entertain an angry cat with teeth.
And don't think that I missed those paws coming out of her hips. She really stepped up the crazy quotient with that. SMH With the placement of those paws the creepy cat face tattoo becomes the tattoo of the angry cat ripping it's way out of her uterus. No bueno.
This right here has surpassed any other horrible tattoo I've ever seen in my life. And I've seen some pretty horrible stuff. This is worse than that dude that smelled "Bitchs". It's worse than Gucci Mane's phallic ice cream cone. It's worse than having a Mighty Duck reside on your left cheek (I see you Yung LA). I would gladly accept a few more of those over this shit right here.
Oh and I really love the makeup guys commentary when talking on the phone to someone who I assume is the producer or director of the porn she's trying to be cast for. I can tell that he totally understands the feelings that I'm feeling right now. Disgust. Dismay. Fear. Sadness. All of that is showing on his face. And right now, it's showing up on mine too.
In a word, this is some bullshit. Somebody should call shenanigans on this poor misled young lady's life. She damn sure needs a do-over.
But I know she wouldn't use it. She's planning on making it worse. She's going to pierce herself so it looks like the angry cat has a tongue. *blank stare* She's probably going to inspire a whole generation of dumbasses to anime their genitalia. All I know is if I see any pictures of a dude with the cast of Dragon Ball Z on his peen I'm calling it quits. I mean that. I can't take much more of this kind of foolishness people. I just can't.
By the way, those high winds you've been feeling weren't being stirred up by El Nino. That was good Lord shaking his head vigorously while contemplating hitting the reset button on his universal stopwatch. Get your lives right people.
For those of you keeping count: this is sign #486840306043319999.5 that the world is coming to an end.
I don't know how many times I have to tell you all that I'm not anti-hoe shit. I embrace hoe shit. I think participation in some healthy hoe shit can get you far in life. However, there is a time and a place for these types of activities. A backseat, your boss' office, under the bleachers at the local high school, in the fitting room at the local Big & Tall, there are plenty of options...but I'm here to tell you honey, unless your name is Ritzy Slickbooty, these innanets is.NOT.it!
I mean, I know you all are trying to blow up like like Kim Kardashian, but...some of you should leave the web cam and dance routines alone. And by some of you I mean this broad
*Big ass blank stare * *SIGH*
Lawd hammercy!!This shit right here? This right here is unacceptable!!! Where are her parents? Is she wearing Depends? She said she has fans...who are these people? And have they booked their tickets to Hell yet?
Look, I can only take so much of this foolishness. And if you heffas insist on posting your self-produced advertisments of low self-esteem and cries for help online we are going to have to lay down some damn ground rules.
1. If you suffer from a severe case of noassatall I'm going to need you to focus your video on your titties or at least do us all a favor and wear some Booty Pop panties and try and fool us with an illusion of some ass. If those bitches on RuPaul's Drag Race can do it, dammit so can you!
2. If you must project your limited ass towards a camera can we at least put on some decent pannies? I mean I'm not saying go out and spend your whole income tax return on La Perla, but some tangas from Target will get you where you need to be.
3. Clean the area around you. I'm so damn tired of seeing these pics and videos of hoe shit that look like they were filmed in New Orleans the day after the levees broke. Like, are you so hell bent on grabbing your ankles for your EasyShare that you forgot to clear last weeks laundry off the bed and pick those dirty towels and shit off the bathroom floor? If I was a dude I would think that cleanliness is just as sexy as those draws you are trying to get off.
4. Clean yourself. Look this should really be rule #1. But if I'm watching you and start to itch because it looks like you have a cloud of funk hanging around you like your damn name is Pig Pen some things in your life have to change.
5. This is really like a 4b. Moisturize please. An ashy ass is not a classy ass. Although the question of class is really a moot issue if we are discussing posting ho shit online... Anyway, get out that tub of Queen Helene's cocoa butter and shellack your whole damn body. There is really no reason for it to be 2011 and grown folks are still walking around with skin that is about as supple as the Crypt Keeper's.
6. Make sure your props can carry your weight. It's one thing to watch you make a complete damn fool of yourself, but I don't want to watch you what could possibly be an episode of "I Should Be Dead". I'm just saying.
7. Practice your choreography. There's really no reason for you to be on camera counting your steps. Looking like a moose stuck in headlights is not a good look. Freestyling ain't for everybody.
That's all I got. I can't spend my life holding on to your hand and walking you dumbasses through this. Get your acts together.
Also, I think that you all should know that the video I just posted is like sign #29394930481-30 that the world is coming to an end.
I'm posting this foolery for several reasons. One, this dumbass is from my hometown (we am I even admitting that?). Two, this shit is the male equivalent of hiding contraband in your titties and gut meat. I had to show that XYs do ridiculous things too. Three, this is a reason that all parents should check the "NO" box on the questionnaire that the doctor gives you at birth asking if you want you son to walk around with an elephant trunk betwinxt his legs. Four, this is another sign. And it's pointing directly to the billboard that says "The End". I need y'all to recognize.
I'm so outdone by this clowns shenanigans that I don't really have much more to say. *sigh*
_________________________________________________________________
LOUISVILLE, KY. -- A Fairdale man faces charges after Louisville Metro Corrections officers said they discovered suspected crack cocaine in the foreskin of his penis.
According to the arrest report, officers asked Antoine Banks if he had any drugs, weapons or contraband on him as he entered Metro Corrections after his arrest. He told them he didn’t, police said.
During a clothed pat-down, officers said they found a small bag of suspected cocaine tied to the waistband of Banks’ boxers.
After that bag was found, a strip search was ordered, according to the arrest report. During the strip search, another small bag was in the foreskin of his penis, police said.
Police said Banks was originally arrested after a traffic stop led to the discovery of a bag of salvia and liquid codeine. Banks arrested on charges of second-degree possession of a controlled substance first offense and possession of synthetic cannabinoid agonists or piperazines.
Banks is now facing additional charges of trafficking a controlled substance and promoting contraband. (source)
Get your lives right people! Start talking to the Lord, Buddha, Rah, or somebody because the end is near! I know I've been saying this since I started the blog. And I'm sure you all thought I was just talking crazy. Some of you probably still do. But I mean, if Sarah Palin, boys in jeggings, and girls hiding contraband under their tits ain't enough proof for you then maybe, just maybe the fact that it's raining birds and shit will be.
I'm sure that scientists will figure out a way to explain all of this away and that will be enough to make you feel better. For instance, 2 million fish crawled up on the shores of the Chesapeake and died because the water was too cold. *side-eye* Well, that shit ain't make me feel good at all. We had 197 inches* of snow and ice fall last Winter and I don't recall a crab, a fish, or any other such chicken of the sea crawling up on shores gasping for breath. So no, no I don't believe the cold whether explanation. And I don't even want to talk about the things that they are saying that explains why birds have started falling from the sky like raindrop on a warm Spring day. A lightning storm in the clouds? High winds that didn't make it down to Earth's crust? Hell, they may as well tell me that over 100,000 birds died because the sun shined too brightly in their eyes and caused them all to fly into each other like the damn Three Stooges, resulting in them all being rendered unconcious and plummeting to their untimely deaths. That's way better than the global warming excuse that some nerd is going to tell us is the reason why it's SNOWING in San Diego! Truthfully, I've never been there so I don't know the weather patterns of Southern California, but I've heard it never rains there, so SNOW damn sure shouldn't be in the forcast.
OK, so I'm sitting down at my computer attempting to write something. I've had some serious writer's block the past few days. I blame Kris Kringle, but we won't get into that right now.
Anyway, so I couldn't figure out what to write about. When that happens I usually surf the innanets or my favorite blog sites for inspiration. And wouldn't you know it, I found today's topic on Crunk & Disorderly. There's a video on there by this chick that calls herself 1st Lady and two of her big boned friends. Now, before I go further in this post I need to make a disclaimer. I want to make myself abundantly clear that I am NOT anti-big girl or even anti-hoe shit (to a certain degree). I'm pretty much pro-choice on everything. You have a right to eat large amounts of hog maws and wangs, you have a right to sleep with every Tom, Dick, Harry, Jack, Raheem, James, George, Mustafa, Habib, and Bill. Hell, you even have the right to walk around in ill fitting clothing that makes you ass looks like it's eating your pants for lunch. You have these rights and if you CHOOSE to excercise them, then dammit that's on you. Who am I to keep you from that? But you shouldn't tape it, or walk around in public, or take pictures and post them on Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, eHarmony, Reunion.Com or whereever else you go for your cyber hoe shit. Because that's when it encroaches upon my life. And THAT's when I have to comment on it. And it's usually not nothing nice.
I've said it before. I appreciate a fair amount of tomfoolery, shenanigans, and foolishness. But at some point it becomes ridiculousness and all of the fun goes away. And these broads happen to be participating in some ridiculousness of epic proportions.
See what I mean? Like seriously? You gonna rap about selling twat on post it on these innanets? You gonna actually stand in your little sisters lace legging and onesie combo and talk about your "juiciness"? You really gonna rock an outfit that looks like some shit that fell out the back of Oaktown 357s tour van back in 1989? You really gonna have a video that looks like you filmed it in that kiosk in the mall that sits right in front of Build A Bear and Spencer Gifts? Girl BOO!! This shit right here is so far beyond ratchetness that there isn't even really a word to describe it. There are not enough adjectives, adverbs, verbs, conjunctions, participles, or whatever the hell in the lexicon of the universe to properly give this right here a proper damn description.
The first thing that I need for you ladies (and I use that word loosely) to do is change clothes, I mean I get that you are talking about trading coochie for coins but let's be provocative. Secondly, I know the hair and make up budget was probably close to what my son makes for his weekly allowance but Walgreens and CVS stay having H.I.P. on BOGO and I just got a flier in the mail from Sally's with yaki for $9.99 that would have done well in a pinch. Which brings me to three, if y'all are making so much bread offa selling p***y, why in the fuck are you looking like refugees from the island of Low Budget Bitches? If it were ME and I was on the net advertising my ho skills on wax I'd damn sure have a better commercial than this shit. Who the hell you think you gonna attract with this? I'll tell you: NO.FUCKING.BODY. This shit is so far from sexy that you couldn't find it with a map, GPS, or compass. Plus, I had to hang one of those pine tree car air fresheners AND spray some Febreeze to get rid of the stench. Get it together please.
2012 is real people. If you didn't believe me before, you better believe me now. This shit right here was on the Mayan calendar filed under "what the fuck". You can believe that. Get your lives right folks. The Rapture is upon us. And 1st Lady and her husky sidekicks just sped that shit up. *pouring out some liquor for common sense*
This is it people! You best get your lives right because the rapture is upon us. I know you're thinking "But Tee, how can you say that? How do you know the world is going to end?"
Well, it's quite simple people: Nicki Minaj. This grown ass woman who wears nahlata hair and an ass larger Texas while calling herself Barbie, is the catalyst for Armageddon. Nicki just doesn't do it for me. All that "yah yah yah Nicki rah rah rah Young Money" shit is more than a little bit nerve wrecking. But something happened on my long drive home on the Beltway. This "Right Through Me" song I'm hearing is...different. She actually seems like she took her normal dose of meds before she got in the booth. Now don't get me wrong, what she is saying isn't profound. She'll never be a Lauryn or an Erykah, but dammit...I like the song! At first I was in denial. I tried to say it was because of that carmel drop of blue eyed awesomeness that plays her leading man in the video that makes me sit up and pay attention everytime it comes on. But I can no longer lie to myself. I, Tee, lover of all things musical and most things foolish have officially crossed over into the Nicki Minaj "like" lane. But I guess considering how I just described myself, this is appropriate behavior. Hopefully, this is just a phase. If you see my old ass prancing around in Booty Pop panties, a tutu, and a pink and green wig you have my permission to take me down Jet Li style and cart me off to the nearest mental healthcare facility.
Global warming, catastrophic natural disasters, Sarah Palin. The fact that these things exist should be clues that we are in our last days. This crossover for me is another one. Shit is real. Make amends and say your prayers folks. That's all I have to say.
