Showing posts with label The Raw and Uncut Truth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Raw and Uncut Truth. Show all posts

Girl, U So Dirty!

Kids, I need to take a shower. The lack of full-time job has compromised my hygene. I've got to get back on a regular schedule. I admit this because there's no sense in walking around with wavy smell lines and clouds of dust (think: Pig-Pen) radiating from my hair, underarms and lady parts. It's shameful. It's rude. It's soo not cute. Wearing the same outfit for three and a half days is borderline offensive. Seriously, someone needs to give me a citation.

I pretend like the greasiness from my hair is 'shine.' When I reach over to pick something up, the scent of stale deodorant wafts into my nostrils. I feel the wind breeze through my boyish-length leg hairs when I walk around the house in shorts. That's IF I get out of bed and out of my sweats before 3 p.m. I need an intervention. Where are my friends and loved ones sitting around me, tearfully choking on their words as they read heartfelt letters expressing concern for the cleanliness of my coochie? Where are Ken, Jeff and Candy? Where is my gift?

It's okay. I can kick this habit on my own. I'll do better; I promise.

Wanna Get Rid of Your Kids? For Good?


How about killing them off by buying them a Zhu Zhu Pet Hamster? or killing yourself off by listening to the theme song on their website?

If you've watched the news this past week, there were reports the toy hamsters contained chemicals that could harm children. There was a media frenzy about how scary and hateful these toys were, until the FDA and the manufacturer stepped in. Though it was found the toys DO contain the chemical Antimony, it's not enough to make kids sick.

UMMMMMM......

Why would you KNOWINGLY want your kid playing with a toy that has poison in it? No parent should be stupid enough to buy this for their kid. Unless they've got some evil Christmas wishes of their own...

Tumblrweeds

I'm thinkin' 'bout talmbout moving this blog to Tumblr. What do y'all think?

Girl, How U Like Them Apples???

"A revolutionary woman can't have no reactionary man. If he's not about liberation, if he's not about struggle, if he ain't about building a strong Black family, if he ain't about building a strong Black nation, then he ain't about nothing." -- Assata Shakur

Blow the Whistle!

Y'all know this is my song! If only I could get this put on the Cobalt! Bless Rubb Bubb & Lil' Sis' hearts.



Dead @ 1:36 mark & beyond.

AND they ran the stopsign...I'm done.

Girl, U so Wise!

I moved to Dallas in January, only to move back home in September after losing my job before the three month mark. The number one thing I learned was:
Wait ninety-ONE days before you brang yo' sh*t to another state!!!

(See the post below)

Just wanted to pass on that little pearl of wisdom, chil'ren! Now, let me go get ready to snap for the kids!

Transient!

...or as I like to say girl, free-sprited!


This is what my apartment looks like! Oh, the horrors of moving! I hate moving. I want to bless someone else...*cough, cough* get rid of *cough, cough* with my love seat, book cases, pots & pans, and other hand-me-down furniture wonders of the 80s and 90s. It's not that I think I'm too good for this stuff. I just don't want the baggage! If it don't fit in the Cobalt, it ain't coming. Snap for the Kids two times! Okaaaay!

Shira, U So SugarFree!

Y'all know I am obsessed with YouTube. It's to the point where YouTube is getting all Mariah on me, trying to front me out like, "Girl, why u so obsessed wit me?!" I was wailing that chorus. Yes I was, girl; yes I was. Don't judge me.
...ANYWAY...
You know what, I like this girl's style. Random, scatterbrained, chatty & she drops pearl of wisdom every time. I love it!
Go watch SugarFree TV, fool.

Oops, My Bad! Should I Write Them a Note?

That is in my Cher from Clueless voice, just to let you know!

Isn't it funny when you say sorry to someone and they're saying sorry back to you, but the two of you are sincerely apologizing for two different reasons? I digress, however, and I know this sounds confusing; let me give an example.

Picture a new couple on a dinner date at home. Boyfriend and Girlfriend are sitting having a great evening despite nervousness & jitters until all of a sudden, Boyfriend leans over and throws up on the beige dining room carpet. Boyfriend is embarrassed and between dry heaves yells out, "Sorry! I got sick! "
Girlfriend, on the other hand, is less concerned about the vomit and while hunting for carpet cleaner and a steamer yells out "Sorry! I undercooked the chicken, so you might have food poisoning!"

So there, you have it; mutual "sorries" for two different reasons. I say that to say this: I had that happen to me the other day and I felt like I wanted to talk about it!

Hey, I do what I want!
Elvita is a very nice woman. She, my coochie & I have a special relationship. It's because she was kind, caring at a time when I was spread eagle on her table. But that was the end of her sweet spirit.

That lady pasted, rubbed and ripped like there was no tomorrow, and in her broken English, told me that I was to blame for my pain & suffering! Shame on her! Okay, so maybe some of my coochie sadness was my fault because I, as a result of my laziness, was going for the "Bohemian" look. She didn't have to call me out though. I don't care if it was only her and me in the room together.

Ladies, please stay on top of your grooming. Don't get lazy like me; let this be a warning!

That is all.

Girl, Why U Tryna be Cute?

I swear, I need to stop wearing cheap shoes. And I'm not being snobby when I say cheap, I mean cheap like, $6.99-unboxed-held-together-with-a-ziptie-on-sale-at-the-juniors'-store cheap. I was trying to be 'Girl U So Cute' in a casual dining restaurant in my fashion frugal teal high heels.

Walking from my booth to the bathroom wasn't a problem; I even got a little swagger in my step on the way back to the table.

So when I stood up to leave and grabbed my to-go container and that's when I felt the ball of my foot slide across the wood laminate flooring like I honoring MJ with a Moonwalk. My heel skid to the left, to the left. And, I almost fell. Thank Jesus from Nazereth that I didn't bust my butt in the middle of a crowed restaurant on a weekend night!

Let this be a lesson to you ladies given to you at my expense.

That is all.

Made in His Image: Richard Simmons

For some reason, Christians and heathens alike want to know how Jesus Christ looked. Was he white, black, or God-forbid, for some people, middle-eastern? Was he chubby, skinny, or beefy? Was he black like Wesley Snipes? Well, I think I’ve got a pretty good description for you of how Christ's swagger might have been all those years ago. And I gather he closely resembled motivator to the chunky, none other than Richard Simmons!

Don’t try to poke holes in this well-crafted theory by angrily saying that I’m blaspheming God in human form. But, if you want to get technical, think about the Biblical description. Hair like lamb’s wool? Check. Feet like brass? Check ('cause Richard’s got a tan like nobody's business). Voice like many waters? Well, not that one, but, you know his squealy voice when you hear it! Those are only the physical characteristics. And, for the convenience of you naysayers, I’ve hastily created a crude little features and technical specifications comparison chart. Take a sip of the living waters:

Revelations also mentions a little gem I discovered--that Jesus has his name on his thigh. How do we know this? Because the Bible tells us so! I don’t know if this tattoo is revealed via a flowing white robe or red striped short shorts, but either way it goes, J.C.’s showing a little leg.

Jesus has the desire to motivate us to be in the best shape we can, he wants us to stay positive, and press toward the mark of the prize of the high calling. Sound like someone we know? Rev. 1: 17 notes, “And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead. And he laid his right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not;” If that doesn’t sound reminiscent of Sweatin’ to the Oldies, then I don’t know what is!
(Don’t believe me? See Rev 1:1-20 & Rev 19:16)

Girl, U So Stylish!

Though the leggings trend is on its way out, my vision still being wronged on a daily basis. There are so many fashion offenders and victims that fall by the wayside as a result of this fad that I often ask the Lord, "Why has thou forsaken me!?! What did I do wrong to deserve having this nylon-spandex atrocity dance before my eyes?"

Don't get me wrong. There are times that leggings as spandex pants look good. Real good. Megan Good, good. But the realities of life don't allow me to enjoy a view like that. I'm stuck watching a Mary Gordon instead of a Megan Good; a Holly Bear instead of Halle Berry. Why?

Why, why, why?

I saw a woman earlier today with a cute sweater and boots on, paired with those damned leggings. It would have been acceptable had she not been shaped like an apple with two straws sticking out of the bottom. And, that wasn't even the worst part. What is even more disturbing than leggings on the wrong body type are leggings that the wearer isn't aware that the "pants" are more like "pantyhose" and that I can see straight through said leggings down to the granny panties, Spanx, or God forbid, butt pads, beneath them.

Ladies, stop it.

That is all.

"But the Kid is NOT My Son...!"

I don't want kids. So don't judge me when I don't want to hold hands, bond with, or look after your germ infested, ill-mannered, temper tantrum throwing little beasts you call Junior, Timmy, Sally or Bobby.

That is all.

Doin' the Butt!

People do the darndest things after they've taken a few (or twenty) swigs of an adult beverage. I was at a wack-as-hell new year's eve party, but was fortunate enough, in my bored and unimpressed state, to get pushed by THE drunkest girl in the party. This girl made sure she was the life of the party. She cleared a spot on the dance floor via flailing her arms like a frazzled soccer mom and gave us a show more exciting than the midnight countdown. Drunk Homegirl started doing dances I hadn't seen since my fast 14-year-old cousin taught them to me when I was eleven in '94. Kids, I'm talking the Dog, the Running Man, and of course the highlight: the Cry Baby!

But hey, at least she entertained herself and other party goers that night. Watch and be made whole, children.

Watch His Footwork


I go out to enjoy myself and enjoy the nightlife. But every now and then I find a gem to precious to pass up. Watch the man on stage in the black and white shirt. He is giving off pure FEVER. This fat, sweaty white guy is throwing more signs than a Crip hanging out the passenger side window of a cerulean '82 Cutlass Supreme! Watch and be made whole my children.
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