Who Else Would Want To Deal With You?!

"Who else would want to deal with you?" - A little gem that was shouted at me in the middle of a lover's spat. After saying, "Nigga fuck you..." then giving the whole idea some thought, I can't imagine that anyone else would want to deal with the real me, day in and day out. Most people, for one, are too stupid for me to even consider dealing with on any intimate level... and that's why my friends are so few as it is. Excluding family, I have 3 friends. Yep, I'm 26 years old and have 3 friends. Which is fine by me. Although there are a few people I'd like to meet and be friends with, as of now I have only san amigos. In no particular order:

Monsieur Burghardt - The Abrasively Brilliant One. I love this nigga like I've never loved another. I've known this cat for about half of my life and boy, have we been through it over these... what about 13-14 years now? I stopped counting the years because years don't mean anything to infinity, if you know what I mean. But for the sake of referencing a time frame, let’s go with that number. We met through a mutual mutant... that's another post for another day but I digress... and I told said mutant that I really liked Mr. B. What did this cunt go and do? Put the moves on my man. Bitches ain't shit. Anyway, for quite a few years, I had to swallow the jagged little pill of bitterness as they related, dated and fucked and whatnot. Being the loyal friend and down ass bitch that I am, I never mentioned anything more about it, and I'll be real with you... my insecurities and shit helped hold my tongue. But OHHH that truth serum fire got me going one night we were all hanging out and in a drunken stupor I professed my love for this man... that was it. There was no turning back at that point and I fought until he was MINES!! LOL... but seriously, he is as twisted as I am... yet thoughtful, intelligent, handsome, witty..hell, hilarious!! And that voice continues to do things to me... ok, ok... let me stop I don't want any of you bitches to get any ideas. I fought too long and too hard for this diamond in the rough. But he's like, one of my best friends on the planet, and I love him to bits and pieces!!

Betty B. - My would be wife if I were a lesbian, or a man. I love this chick!! She is what a real homegirl should be. I thought I had a friend in the mutant (see above) but only came to realize that she was a cancerous, cantankerous, evil bitch. Wow, I'll have to do her the honor of blogging about her one day. But back to my Betty. Oh, by the way, I call her Betty (as in Boop) because of her bangin' ass hour glass figure... and her milkshake be bringing all the b's buzzing... Betty is like, my personality twin, if there is such a thing. I'm probably a bit more crass than she is... but she is the yin to my yang. She loves HARD and unconditionally, the kind of female a nigga should want on his team. We both have problems but we help each other work them out. I don't judge her bullshit, and she doesn't judge mine. I've been friends with Betts now I would say, a good seven years. Started out as coworkers, and ended up best buds, like... if she needed a place to crash, my door is open. Of course we've had our little spats or what have you (which are few and far between by the way), but what friendship doesn't? We've always bounced back and had...and continue to have each other's back. Love ya Betty B.!!!

J. - My weird, technology geek buddy. I am able to be as crass as I need to be with J. He always lends an ear when I need to talk about how stupid certain co-workers are... basically J rocks. When I first met J, I was like.... wow, what thee fuck. Big Black dude who.. kinda doesn't embrace his Blackness. But it's all good when you get to know him. We became friends after passing by each other for like 3 years without speaking, over the Classifieds in the City Paper. I was reading the hilarious ones to a co-worker he was already friends with, and lo' and behold, he too read and made jokes about the I Want You to Poke Me With Plastic Forks While I Suck Your Toes If You're Out There Please Call ads. Ever since then we've been tight like glue! Movies, anime, Star Trek, music, gore, electronics, and pictures of hot chicks... J is sooo my guy. He's a kind hearted gentleman with an I'll Kick Your Ass exterior. That's my nigga and we'll always hang tough!!

So, those are my friends, and I care about all three of them because basically, they all kick ass. I am able to be as loud, crass, ignorant, political, intellectual, opinionated, creative and silly with them as I want and need to be. Most people can't deal with my madness... and they do voluntarily. Oh, and they don't mind that I curse like a sailor and say nigga like... every chance I get.. No tip toeing around these dudes, at all. Everybody should get at least one of themses.

Peace and MuthaFuckin Love My Niggas!!!

Two of Four.

Formerly The Notorious Z.A.G., I was assimilated by the Borg: Brain Override Regarding Good (good sense, good judgment, good ideas, you name it). It was then I became Two of Four (all my Star Trek fans should get it). I have since regained my consciousness, and am now migrating slowly back into the human race, but let me tell you how and why I am now Two of Four.
At the tender age of 18... I was green, naive, silly... stupid. I wasn't missing any of my intelligence, it was just that my Brain Overrode anything Regarding Good. BORG. I fell in love with an idiot, because he showed me some attention. Lied to me about being hurt in relationships and blah blah blah, yackity smackity. I fell for it because I didn't know any better. I wanted to be that SOMETHING for someone, and that someone just happened to be the first yutz to come along. Well, he had an older woman - who I believe was about 35 then - pregnant (he was 20 or 21 at the time) who he insisted was not pregnant by him. I didn't care though, I sat there being a stupid little girl satisfying his every whim. Ran up my credit card bill... ran up my cell phone bill to $700 talking to females on chat lines. A complete and utter sizzling hot mess. I mean, even this dude's family was questioning why I was with this loser...and that's a direct quote. I couldn't see it at the time, a nigga had stars all in her eyes... thanks to the BORG.
To make a long story short, sooner than later I was pregnant. Did he want the baby? No. Did I care? Nope. Did I think that a baby would solidify the relationship and keep him there with me forever? I most certainly did, and boy was I wrong. We were together for about 7 or 8 months after I had the baby, and the relationship ended with me destroying all the electronics and gifts I received during the course of the relationship (almost 3 years) because he tried to take them back, over something so dumb that I can't even remember. I took all of that shit and tossed it in the street, watching gadgets and parts explode into pieces on impact. Shit, if I couldn't have it, he definitely couldn't, especially since I couldn't get back all the time and money I had so blindly put into the "relationship."
Well, my son is now seven years old, and hasn't seen his dick of a dad in about five years. Which I'm not okay with, but I can't force a man to be a man. That's not my job. My job is to raise my son the best way that I can. But that's all beside the point. Lately this infidel has decided to crash back on the scene via text message. Oh, technology can be a bitch; and get this: the first thing this fool is talking about is how he misses me and still loves me and wants to see me and been thinking about me and some ole other bullshit. NOTHING whatsoever about how his son is doing. Which I find both sad and hilarious. How the fuck are you gonna text me talking about you love me and miss me, but mention nada about the baby we made 8 years ago? Not to mention this dude has a girlfriend.... that I looked up on MySpace because I'm just like that. Don't know why but I like to know how a mother fucker looks... ya know? So anywho, I talk to him and find out that some other female is claiming that he fathered her child, and he doesn't believe it's his because the "Baby is lighter than [me] and has good hair. Man, that baby don't look nothing like [he does]." Now, being a fan of Maury... I'm well aware that a baby doesn't have to look like you to be yours. I explain that via text, but this dumbass doesn't get the point. He continues to tell me that he still loves me and is thinking about me... yeah okay, whatever dude.
Skip forward to today, I text him to find out whether or not my son has yet another brother that he'll never know because his father is a dick. Turns out, you ARE THE FATHER!! Some ole Maury type shit, lol. Again with the sad hilarity of the situation. So, being me, I decide to check out girlfriend's MySpace page again (I hadn't been on there in a while) and homegirl's status says: Preparing for the baby, getting ready for our trip in july and getting a promotion at work. Doing big things." Of course curiosity gets the best of me and I ask him, what baby are they preparing for? Turns out THIS chick is pregnant now. If you haven't been keeping count, she is baby mama number FOUR. Which makes me Two of Four. The BORG is taking over. So beware.
Why are niggas still fucking bitches without rubbers?? I mean... is poon really THAT good? To either a.) die for, b.) ruin a life or two.. or three or four for? Stupid.. I swear I wish I had been allergic to stupid years ago. Don't get me wrong, I love my son infinitely, he's a star!!

But good gottdamn... to fuck an idiot

BathroomBreak.

Red nail polish
worn and chipped
on fingertips
that graze
bruised lips
heart and mind
slips
into the darkest abyss
a soul could ever know
Eyes search their
reflection and
attempt the
detection
of the woman
who once stood
taller than anyone
she ever knew
the truth came to
a screeching halt
at the safe side of
her bruises
the cool quiet
sanctuary was
useful only until
he decided she'd
had enough
alone time
the crime she
committed slipped
her mind
but he'd only find
another reason
to do what
he does best:
punish her flesh...

Life Goes On

Friend's blood and brains splattered on pavement
Phone calls from collections expecting payment
Nursing home& inevitable interment arrangement
But life goes on...
Beat up, hair pulled and choked out
Procrastination, depression and self doubt
Bury face in pillow and then shout
But life goes on...
Yellow slip out front my shit is past due
Pockets thin but all my clothes is brand new
How to save, admit that I have no clue
But life goes on...
Carry weight that no one seems to understand
Press on for my Son and my favorite Man
Crumble under the weight of all these demands
But life goes on...

Flying Colors...

I got my report card today and it reads as follows:

HEPATITIS B: negative
HEPATITIS C: negative
GONORRHEA: negative
CHLAMYDIA: negative
SYPHILIS: negative
HIV: Negative
PAP SMEAR: normal

I passed all my tests with flying colors. Might I suggest YOU ALL get tested. Better safe than sorry; no sex is worth dying for!! GET TESTED!! Not just HIV/AIDS; get tested for everything. If you're sexually active, your life depends on it!!!!!

DuckDuck...Goose.

You know what really gets my goose? When my blog comments aren't approved on moderated blogs. I go back expecting to read my treasured and valuable opinion...only to have my thought demolished by the bloggod controlling whether or not my words will be seen by the world. My idea is then, gone forever with the simple, pompous click of a mouse *poof*. Am I really THAT opinionated that bloggods feel the need to dismiss my shit as brash and abrasive and not worthy for eyes other than their own? I'ownkno but that shit really gets my goose.
Say what you want on my blogspot; frankly I don't give a fuck and don't think I am worthy enough to say I disapprove of any of my readers' comments.
XOXO