Not All Baltimore Chicks are Stupid...

Part 2: NABCAS Presents True Life: I Did Crack

2011-11-02T09:46:00.000-07:00

Shortly after Kingsmomma leaves my hotel room I realize that I reeked of alcoholic and pants rubbing sin. I remember telling Rock that I was drunk and needed a shower. He agreed.

I ended up stripping and did the slow foot stumble into the glass shower almost hitting my face on the wall when I tripped over steam. This is when I realized I was super drunk and that Rose wasn't my friend but a pink enemy seeking vengeance on my body and soul. Not only did I choose to lounge in the shower like I was chillin on a sofa with my legs sprawled out but I also decided it was a perfect time to wash my hair.... with bar soap. That skinny ass leftover hotel soap. Sample soap. Was there shampoo and conditioner provided by the four- star Hilton hotel? Well, yes but I like for my hair to be matted and tangled with flat bar soap when I'm drunk and fancy... and a drunk mind will have you washing your hair with anything that suds ~~or inviting people back to your hotel room even when you have someone there waiting for you~~. As drunk as I was, I would've washed my hair with Tide or beer piss if it was available. You know what else a drunk mind will have you doing? Washing your ass and face with the same shampoo you failed to use on your head leaving your skin feeling like you just soaked in Epsom Salt and dawn dish detergent. Listen folks, when you're drunk everything that doesn't make sense makes perfect sense. Don't Drink ~~and Drive, Shower, Fuck, Teach Children, Breathe, Live~~ !

Feeling like I just ran through a car wash with toxic shit now seeping though my pores, I take my time getting out of the shower and stumble to the bed where Rock is laying. Now, these parts are a little foggy.

I remember climbing on top of him and telling him that I was drunk and wanted to vomit. That right there was that disgusting sexy talk that only a wife could say to her husband and still make him hard. So, right now I'm dizzy. Rock now has two heads and is starting to look like a Boondocks character. The room is spinning and I feel like I'm going to meet that 22.00 pasta I inhaled a few hours before. Theres music playing from my iPod "Love" playlist and a scene replaying in my head:

Me: Yo, the last time I drank Rose I got soooooooo fuuuuuuuuucked up

Kingsmomma: Champagne doesnt really do that to me but I'll try it

Me: I'm serious dude. That shit will get you everytime
Kingsmomma: Uhhh i doubt it

slow-fast forward both of us grinding on random 21 year olds, stumbling on the streets, hailing a cab and listening to Biggie in said cab with a Punjabi driver nodding his head.

I roll over on my side and Rock brings me a trash can. Even with his teenage voice and Connecticut accent that I always find so funny, he sounds comforting. I remember him telling me that I just needed to throw up and that i shouldn't be embarrassed about throwing up in front of him. I remember telling him that I'm not embarrassed I just cant throw up.After advising me to put my finger down my throat and me declining his offer to put something down my throat to throw up, he pulled my hair back, got back in the bed and we spooned while listening to music.

Somewhere between R. Kelly and 112, Souljah Boy comes on. Now, there are about 200 songs on that playlist. All of them are baby makers and here comes Souljah Boy's She Got A Donk out of the blue. Only during a time that two of the craziest bloggers end up in the same bed together would a random ass song magically appear on my playlist. Do I turn it off? Nope. What did I do? I did what every girl, your mother and grandmother included, does when that song comes on... I backed it up or did some drunk variation of backing it up. Yup, Ms. La'Docker did random booty popping Tip Drillish dance moves in the bed. As I'm writing this, I realize that I always pick the worst and most random times to booty pop which usually ends up in some embarrassing or blogworthy situation. File that one under Blogworthy.

"Donk" is where things got spicy and, unfortunately, I cant remember everything BUT I'll give you the following tidbits that I do remember and/or have text confirmation that it did happen.

Things that Khaki ~~Vaguely~~ Remembers About Doing Crack

Breaking my Pretty Woman rule and kissing Rock allllllll in the mouth. He liked it.
Both parties getting Facetime and even as a sloppy drunk I gave a pretty decent performance. No teeth or hands! BOOM!
~~Rock~~ Somebody did some questionable and pause-worthy shit that they didn't even pause on before doing it while someone else didn't even fight it. As a part of our marital agreement, I can not disclose the act that was performed.

Rock has a mean stroke game and the perfect sized "junk". Mean as in pretty damn good and perfect sized as in it wasn't so big that I'd have to ball up and take the D like a champ or too small that I'd want to punch him in the neck and make him sleep in the hallway. If I was sober, I would've went to sleep with a Coke and a smile.
Nobody came... at least i don't think i did. I know he didn't... I think. Wait, he did... once per her his text but I don't know... FML.
I must've said "i gotta throw up" about 100 times and never actually threw up or attempted to. In fact, someone kept stroking while I muttered my threats of puking.
Rock uses some "regla" ass condoms. Yep, he doesn't use any of those fancy wrapper condoms... unless he saves those for the Cholas and Rosie Perez look-alikes.
Changing positions often and feeling like Troy from Crooklyn when she had that dream about sniffing glue. I was floating through the air while the room moved around me. No bueno.

That pretty much sums up the non-experienced teenage like sex which ended with me having my head in a trash can after my final threat to puke. I still didn't puke and ended up going to sleep.

The morning after: Butt ass naked, I wake up and run to the bathroom where I kneel over the toilet and grab it like I'm about to make love to it for the last time. Rock walks over and tells me to throw up. Of course... I don't. I get back in the bed and he leaves to find me water and breakfast. After some time, the best husband in the world returns with a big ass waffle and a bottle of water which I'm sure cost him more than he should've paid.

We got dressed and checked out of the hotel before getting a cab. I gave him a hug and a kiss, got in my cab and 5 minutes later opened the cab door and threw up. It was THE best vomit ever. I felt like i had just gotten head by a human rattlesnake while gumdrops and raindrops fell on my head. Shit was superb.

On my bus ride home things started to get clearer and a feeling of failure came over me. I felt bad and not because I just had what felt like 18 gallons of "drank" trapped in my system but I felt like I didn't rep for all of the black girls that get traded for the Peeta Ricans and border jumpers. That night was for the Tamikas and ShaQuans that Kobe skeeted on before marrying Vanessa. This was for all of the black baby mamas of pro athletes with J-Lo lookalike wives. I started questioning the authenticity of my vagina and head game. Were the blogs I write about me being a sex goddess all bullshit? I admit I cant sext and I don't masturbate, but was I capable of bad sex? Would Rock think I was a bad "lay"? Did I care what he thought? Not really because he did questionable shit but it was the principle. I take pride in being able to make a mans eyes roll in the back of his head like he's Rick Ross on a plane. I enjoy popping my collar after a night of heavy breathing and leg spreading and I just didn't feel like I gave him the Khaki Experience. It was like he paid for a Michael Jackson concert and only got "the brothers" or he expected Cirque Du Soleil and got the Universoul Circus with Uncle Tyrone shucking and jiving with a Rottweiler dressed as a lion to Frankie Beverly and Maze's Before I Let Go. This was my "See what you missing fucking with them Ez's?" moment and I failed miserably.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

STOP THE RECORD! What am I talking about? Rock did get the Khaki Experience-- sloppy toppy, drunk doggy style and all. I'm unpredictable... and memorable. Thats is THE Khaki Experience.

So ladies and gents there you have it, my admission to doing Crack. It was the first and last time I will ever do a fellow blogger ~~unless you're Nightfall, NC17 minus the girlfriend or Simone Dior minus the vagina.~~ I have no regrets and I would do it again ~~but someone went back to Peetas~~.

Questions? Comments? Drop em down low.

OH... and YALL better stop rushing me to post :-)

aaaaaaaaaand I hate blogger for being assholes and not posting all of my pics.

NABCAS Presents True Life: I Did Crack

2011-10-17T09:54:00.000-07:00

Due to random and not-so-random people visiting my blog, some details of this post was changed to protect the reputation of individuals mentioned.

It was a long (maybe) time ago and doing Crack was not planned. Everybody told me I should try it...and you know how peer pressure is. Never one to back down from pressure, i did it. I did CrackRock.

Right next to my love for Converses and those fat ass burritos from Chipotle there’s a really, really small almost doesn’t exist space that holds my love for blog hubby, Sir Rock-A-Lot. He’s the oodle to my noodle, the Section to my 8 and the apple to my bottom. He’s Rick James and Im Teena Marie. We’re like this :crosses fingers: Definition of Black Love.

So what happens when you put all of that Fire and Desire in a hotel room after a night of drinking and pants rubbing??? I can barely remember it so I’ll try my best to recapture the night I did Crack or as yall know him- Rock. Like every story that involves trollopfication and blog fornication, there will be 3 parts. My story (which is probably the most truthful that someone who was drunk and cant remember how i got home from the bus station can get), his story (the most accurate without the details that admits he did the unthinkable) and the story we don't want our family or children reading.

It was some months ago and I was visiting friends in… uhhhhh York, New so I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to meet up with my nappyheaded love for some marital bonding. I know you guys don’t care about what I did before Rock showed up to my room so I’ll skip the boring details of shopping and eating overpriced Olive Garden food.

Approximately 4 hours had went by when I got the phone call from the front desk telling me that there was a suspicious young black man with an incorrectly spelled white name attempting to pick up a key to my room. After confirming that Rock wasn’t a drug dealer or DVD bootlegger hustling the Kevin Hart movie, the concierge (that’s fancy talk for front desk. They don’t have those at the RedRoof Inn hoodrats. Step yo hotel game up!) gave him the key but not before collecting his information and alerting the security staff.

So Rock, the confident almost arrogant little troll that he is, opens the door and he walks in like he owns the place or helped pay for the room. My first thought when I saw him: Damn, I should’ve smashed when I saw him in Miami. Smelling like a newborn puppy, was the love of my bloglife with his fresh sharp cornered shape up, health insured smile ,shoulder length dreads, cargo shorts and a pair of 200.00 foamposites or “dopes” as well call them in B-more.

I think we hugged before he pulled out his gift to me. That’s right ladies! My husband knows how to treat a lady. From his hoebag, he pulls out a bottle of wine. Now, before you start Awwww’ing and patting him on his back let me point out that the bottle of wine was the size of a 20 ounce bottle of Pepsi. If I didn’t know any better I would’ve assumed that he got it out of the soda machine but, nonetheless, he bought me wine. Sample sized wine… but wine.

I clown his baby bottle of wine and we end up on the plush king sized bed. I'm wearing my hooker dress that barely passed the bend over test and he couldn’t keep his hands off my khakis. Let me say that the hubby has soft hands… like he either beats off a whole lot or has a thing for lotion… which could mean that he beats off a lot. Regardless, he’s got nice hands and lips (as KingsMomma pointed out later). Anyway, I remind him that I'm about to hit the club with KingsMomma and I’d see him later. I could tell he wanted me... even though Im black. You see- Rock only dates Ez-girls. Hernandez. Fernandez. Sanchez. You get the point. If they dont wear jeans with no back pockets and high heeled jordans, he aint checking for them. My man has got a thing for the Goya. I'm not proud of that but I accept him for who he is. Sellout... and all.

KingsMomma gets to my hotel, they both tell me my dress is short, I take a few pics and we roll out to the club. Two bottles of Rose, about 4 mixed drinks later and a dizzy cab ride later, KingsMomma and I stumble back to the 23^rd floor of my hotel. It's probably about 2 or 3 Am and I walk in to the room and fall onto Rock – who is on the bed listening to my iPod. He’s washed that outdoor puppy smell off of him and is wearing a pair of pajama pants. Let me remind you all again that I’m SLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZARD. Im Charlie Sheen. Im Amy WINEhoused (RIP). Im Ned the Wino drunk. KingsMomma is sitting on the leather ottoman just as drunk.

I tell Rock I missed him and stumble to the bathroom. Peeing with the door open and thongs around my ankles, I hear Rock get out of the bed and walk over to the bathroom and KingsMomma says “let me see yo dick” or "pull out yo dick" or something like that.

Rock says something like “ya’ll are wasted/drunk/plastered/fucked up etc” and tells me that KingsMomma asked to see his dick. Too drunk but not drunk enough for a threesome with two nappyheaded bloggers, I think I told her she had to go. A part of me wanted him to pull it out so I could see if he had reason to be COCKy but I also couldn’t let Kingsmomma see if I was about to get played or not. Know how embarassing that would be to brag to your friend that you were getting D'd down just to have them see that the dude was working with a Slim Jim?!!?

Kingsmomma realizes she’s cock blocking and gets up from the ottoman and then before she can stand up straight, she falls. Hard. Rock helps her back up and she leaves to “go home”. Please note: She didn’t actually go home. She told me she was going home but I knew she wasn’t going home… She had the look in her eye. The look that makes babies and gets people herpes.

I think this post is long enough……….. Part 2 coming soon :)

Funny How Times Flies When You're Doing...Nothing

2011-09-13T20:14:00.000-07:00

I've been wanting to blog for a long time... I just haven't. I could say that I haven't had anything to say but that would be a lie. Honestly, I have a lot to say and so much has happened in my life that I wish I would've blogged about. My blog was an outlet for me to express my feelings, talk about the random shit that no one but you guys would want to read and just.... release the stress from everyday life. Because I haven't done that in like... uhhh months... or years..., I probably cried more than I have ever cried in my life. I pretty much mentally tormented myself because I haven't vented, bitched, addressed bullshit, joked, cracked on midgets or openly spoke my mind in so long.

Welp, now that the violins have stopped playing let me give an update.

Lets see- I've dated a player for about 7 months. Dated another one for like 3 months or something like that. Gotten rid of both of them. Got my lil feelings hurt. Got Charlie Sheen-Amy Winehouse- Lindsay Lohan drunk, consummated my marriage to a blogger :ahemcoughahem: and grinded on him to She Got A Donk. Did some traveling. Partied... a lot. Drank a little. Reached my goal weight. Took a 9 week vacation from my job to have surgery which resulted in some smaller boobs and a tighter waistline. Made some friends. Lost some friends. Did hoodrat shit. Became addicted to Chinese Acupressure Massages. Shopped. Did more hoodrat shit. Shopped some more and that's the brief version.

As you can see, I have shit to talk about. As a matter of fact, I have so much to talk about that I don't even know where to start. Are people even still following this blog!!!?!? Hmmmm... Yeah, so...

NABCAS Presents True Life: Life Without Shoe Strings

2011-02-16T11:48:00.000-08:00

There isn't too much that I wouldn't share with you guys. Ive posted on my inability to sext, my summer romp with a married dude, each time I got caught not fucking and just about every entertaining, embarrassing or funny moment of my life (sorry, there aren't many).

Anyway, while I love being able to brag that I'm so open and honest with you all about my life experiences and teenage fuckery, i have to admit that Ive been keeping a secret about my past. Ready for it....

I. DID.TIME

Yep, I jammed in jail. I swag surfed in the slammer. Poked (ahem) in the Pokie.

Gimme my hood stripes right now. Didn't know I was a thug, did you? Huh? What? Nigga, I pops the trunk! I go hard in the mufuggin paint. Yaheardme?

Take a journey with me while I give you the juice on my brief stint in ~~prison~~ lockup.

It was a pretty warm Saturday evening in September 2009. After partying it up at a DC nightclub with a few friends, we decided to head back to the car parked on K street in Washington DC. Now, if you're from DC you know that K Street is where all of the trannies, fairies and other mythological gay creatures hang out to sell some Dick Head or Asshole (literally). Now, if you're not from DC and you know that there is an abundance of sex switchers walking around with sales tags on their private parts, then either you're (A) buying the DHA or (B) you're like me in a sense that you like to hang around trannies for entertainment and head giving advice. Please don't judge me; thank me for I pass along those tips to you. Now, there's probably a C but that's pretty much irrelevant since this story isn't about buying dick... or is it?

So, my friends and I walk back to the car and we spot the trannies. Total- there was about 10 of em. There was one with a fishnet one piece on, a ch(d)ick with some metallic pants and a bra top on and several others rocking shit from old Luke and MC Hammer videos. These (br)hoes were Too Legit to Quit. I said to myself "Self, i ain't got shit to do. Maybe we should kick it with the trannies tonight. This has to be fun". Mistake 1.

My friends and I agreed that we were bored and the sight of transgendered men with terrible lacefronts on the hoe stroll intrigued the hell out of us. While sipping my root beer, I notice that there seemed to be some sort of dick purchasing routine. "The Checkout". Don't ask my why but I was highly entertained by the dickcheckout that went something like this:

All the trannies are standing on each side of the street in a circle of lust
Car pulls up and rolls down window
Trannies look at each other and whoever is up walks to vehicle
After some "business talk" tranny holds up a finger and hops in vehicle
I bust out laughing

That's pretty much how the next 20 minutes went. If you don't see the entertainment in that then.... kill yourself and start a new life with a good sense of humor because that shit is funny!

That scenario happened about 3 times before a bunch of drunk dudes and girls walked past the tranny circle of lust. I have no idea what was said to the trannies but I know shit.got.real.

I remember the Tracy Morganish ch(d)ick started cussing and talking about stabbing folks up. I remember someone jumping on someone else. Vaguely remember a few "faggots" being said, then a couple hundred "bitch" words being said and then some other code words for dick, fuck, and kill. Next thing I know, someone screamed and i realized that this wasn't just a FagFight. Shit was going down and I was apart of it. Thrilling!

A few seconds later, I'm standing there damn near by myself still sipping my root beer and see a bunch of blue and red lights. I look for my friends. Gone! Bastards had bounced on me. Laughing at the fuckery, I hadn't even noticed that the police had me and the remaining trannies surrounded. It was too late- I'd been busted.

There were about 8 police officers and 2 of them were female. One of them comes to me and snatches my root beer out of my hand. Now, this is the part when I realized I'm not as hood as I'd like to believe. I always thought because I grew up in a "hood" that I was automatically privy to "hoodshit". Hoodcards were given to anyone in my zip code, no? I thought I could do "hoodshit" and make it believable. The problem with that was all of that shit I thought about being hood and getting locked up was inaccurate. I was actually the white chick that threatens the police on an episode of Cops. Yeah, so, I watch too much t.v

"Fuck you do that for? I was drinking that!" (Mistake 2), I ~~politely~~ ignorantly asked the policewoman who was now holding my root beer.
"Put your hands in front of you!", the other officer demanded.

"For what? Shit, i wasn't doing anything but walking to my car from the club. I'm not doing shit til you tell me..." (Mistake 3)

The policewoman with the old school Halle Berry/Different World Kimberly Reese mushroom haircut yells "Shut the fuck up and hold your hands in front of you!" The bitch then pours out my drink.... in slow motion. I felt like she was saying "Fuck yo drank bitch!"

So, you know ya girl went hard, right? Wasn't nooooooo bitch going to punk me! I studied law. I know my rights. Shit, I watch First 48 and Law &Order faith.ful.ly. FUCK THE POLICE!!!!

Reality: Sooooo I shat the fuck up while they tossed my ass in a paddywagon with a bunch of hoodrats and sweaty trannies covered in glitter and a mixture of baby phat perfume and KY Jelly. As the paddywagon pulled away, a slow tear ran down my cheek. Frustrated that I couldnt even wipe it without using both hands, I cried even harder. I thought to myself: "This must be what a 6 pack of soda cans feel like.". Confined with plastic hand cuffs, I sat there shocked while the trannies and random folk laughed at me for my blatant display of bitchassness.

After what seemed like a 3 hour trip,we pull up to the police station. I'm taken out of the paddywagon and into the processing area of the jail. I'm being told that I was brought in for questioning on an attempted murder and possible charges for resisting arrest. Possible charges for resisting arrest?!?!? Did I resist arrest? ~~No. Kinda. Possibly. Maybe.~~ I probably did.

Now, I hear murder and I start asking for my phone call, a lawyer, my pastor, the NAACP, my grandmother, my next door neighbor, my address for letters, my commissary number, my greendot card etc. I was giving them my best jail talk.

They take off the plastic "cuffs", ask me for my ID, take my shoe strings from my mid thigh high boots and sit my ass in a holding cell with the rest of DC's Friday night scum.

As soon as I walked in with my arms together I was greeted with a smell of death. I'll always remember the strong odor- It was a potion of "What the Fuck?".

Recipe for "What the Fuck?": Mix a little crackhead with a teaspoon of homeless, add a pinch of 4 week old vagina, sprinkle in a little morning breath, add a 1/2 cup of asshole, 4 ounces of garbage juice, a tablespoon of piss, 3 cups of diarrhea, bake it for 30 mins at 350 degrees and, Voila, you have the scent of my holding cell.

There were hookers, crackheads, drunk bitches... basically a plethora of all the shit A&E makes reality shows out of. I felt like i was on an episode of LockUp or Scared Straight. Why? Well, because I was locked up and scared straight. As I always do when shit gets too real for me, I started humming spirituals. Sung a little "Silver and Gold" and then i figured it was a good time to hit up my old friend. So, I called God collect and told him I was going to change. I promised to pay all my debt and do a bunch of shit that I knew I wasn't going to do. Look, whatever I had to say to not become Dykisha's bitch was being said. God knows I sometimes lie to get out of shit. He knows his child- well.

~~Hours~~ 30 minutes or so go by and I ask an officer when I'm going to be questioned and when I can go home. She laughs at me and tells me to "Chill out. Your time is coming up".

"Well, whats my bail?"
"You don't have a bail and you aren't being charged with anything".
"Oh, well, can I call my mother?"
"No."
"Is this a black thing?"
"Well, yes, it is.", she laughs as she walks away.

Feeling bitched again, I go back to my corner and cry. Not just the silent thug tears. The Smokey on Friday cry. The snot running down my face and my lip catching it cry.

Of course, someone had to sit next to me to school me on the ins and out.... so after a ~~2 hour~~ 10 minute conversation with a religious junkie about the bible and the power of pussy, the officer came and escorted me to a room that Ive seen on every cop show: The Questioning Room.

"Hi Miss La'Docker. Do you know why you're here?", the officer asked.
"No. They said something about attempted murder.", I mumbled as I felt that brick in my throat alerting me that i was about to start crying like a bitch again.
"Oh, ok. Well do you know what happened tonight?"
"No. I was just hanging with the trannies to ask questions about fellating and then that lady locked me up."
Officer Douchebag laughs and tells me he'll be right back as someone knocks on the door.

A whole ~~hour~~ 5 minutes go by and he says the words I've been waiting for all night: "Let's go get your stuff so that you can leave". Im convinced that they were fucking with me the whole night. Sick bastards.

Boots flopping, I damn near ran to officer and jumped in his arms. We walk to the processing clerk to get my belongings and the lady hands me a plastic bag with all of my shit minus..... my fucking boot strings.

Irritated, I yell "Yo, where the fuck are my shoe strings?". (almost mistake 4)

She tells me she doesn't know and something about shift changes.

"Man, how am I supposed to walk with my boots flopping like this?", I ask.
The officer goes over to the clerk and says something to her and she walked to the back office.
Standing there with the "bitch, he told you" face, I see the clerk come back with something in her hands.
Shoe strings. White shoe strings. White Air Force 1ish shoe strings. I look at my black leather mid thigh -high boots, then look back at the shoe strings, then back to my boot. One of these things is not like the other...

Ohhhhhhhhh heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllllllllllll tooooooooooooooo ttttttttttttthhhheeeeeee NAWL

Reality: So, I took the shoe strings and laced the first 5 holes up and walked outside to where my friends were sitting in the car waiting for me.

I give myself the "bitch, act tough" speech and get into the car. I slam the door and throw a mean mug. You know... one of those looks like you just did some shit that would earn your respect. Yeah, that look.

Friend #1: Yo, where the fuck are your shoe strings?
Me: Bitch wanted the business so I choked her ass out with my shoe strings and they gave me these. Real bitches do real shit, ya feel me?!?!?

Reality: I cried all the way home and tossed my useless boots in the trash.

I kept the shoe strings tho. Lesson learned...

Oh yeah i had pics but Blogger on that bullshit.

So A Girl Named Khaki Went Away for a Little While And.....

2011-01-28T07:45:00.000-08:00

I'm sure that those who care have probably noticed that I took a short break from blogging. Ok, so "break" is probably an understatement. Ya girl went on a full blown vacation to bumfucknowhereaintbeingdoingshit, USA. I wish I could give you some incredible reason why i havent blessed you with my wit, sass, charm, humor (ahem: get to the point Khak). So, yeah, i dont have a reason... Sorry- please accept these pancakes...

Dont look like that! You like pancakes!

Anyway, all that matters is that I've had time to think about some shit and Im going to start writing again. I missed you guys and I know Ive got some reading up to do. Soooooooo, yeah, this is all I've got. No sob story. No long blog. No real "update".

What have yall been doing?

Want a good laugh... and to see someone call me a hoe?

2010-11-11T11:18:00.000-08:00

Check out one of my favorite bloggers (waves to NC17) post on women that sleep with their ex while their with someone else. His post is hilarious but the comments are even funnier. Someone called me a hoe... then someone used the word whoremonger and... its just what i needed to get through my day ~~and get my blog posts up again.~~

and BOO to "whoever" is coming from Black Girls are Easy checking out old ass posts about Groupies and whatnot. Folks tryna stab me with my own knife :) Shout out to Blogger Stats

Til we meet again...

Yo, you just might be a lemon

2010-11-04T13:21:00.000-07:00

The very first car i almost purchased was a red 1999 Plymouth Neon. Don't you judge me. I was 17 and i was eager to get a car so I checked the paper and saw that this man was selling a stick-shift car for 1200.00 and get this, it had a spoiler. 2 points for Khak. Now I will admit, I couldn't drive a stick shift but I wanted a car and 1200 was definitely in my budget. Match made in heaven, right? Negative senors and senoritas (practicing speaking dirty for the hubster).

Anyway, I get to the house and the car is clean, looks well-kept and, to an anxious 17 year old with 1200, perfect. That is until the test drive. The first sign that something was wrong happened when I opened the car door and the frigging mirror fell to the ground. The guy told me that he "forgot" to mention the faulty mirror in the ad but it was a cheap and easy fix. No biggie, right? Who needs side view mirrors anyway?

So I drive around the block- the car stalled twice. I start the car again- the car smokes. I try to start again and that car yelled at me "Get the fuck out of here! I'm about to explode!". Needless to say, I took my 1200.00 home and cried. I'd just experienced what it felt like to almost purchase a lemon. Devastation, I tell ya.

To the main point of this post.... Lemons- of the women variety. The women that sit on the lot and act like they're Maybachs when they are really Daewoos. The women with 22's and the black spray painted exterior... The women that are so fucked up that all they can do is display a CHECK ENGINE light alerting you that something is wrong but they don't want to tell you or they dont know what the hell is wrong with them. Those women.

I bet there's at least one Lemon reading this post right now rocking their business casual attire, shaking their heads and plucking hot sauce chunks from their acrylics talking bout "im happy that aint me". Lemons oblivious to their lemon status. Ole silly ass lemon.

For those that have no idea what a Lemon is, let ~~Wikipedia~~ me break it down for you.

Lemon: A lemon is a defective (car) woman that is found to have numerous or severe defects not readily apparent before its purchase. Any woman with these issues can be termed a 'lemon,' and, by extension, any product which has major flaws that render it unfit for its purpose can be described as a 'lemon'.

Got it? No? :sigh:

Is She A Lemon?

Covered up Rusted/Busted/Chipped Exterior: Look at that beautiful woman sitting there... body right, face right, grill right, got that Peeta Rican hair, skin right... All good, right? Probably not and you may be getting bamboozled by the dealer. Shorty has been spackeled with tons of MAC, Milky Way haya (that's hair, fools) and Spanx and she really expects you to believe she's a Bugatti with bald tires. Don't fall for it bruh.

High Mileage on The Va-engine: The only cars that can have a gazillion miles and keep on trucking are those foreign models. Sorry, we're not talking about the Kim Kardashians of the world whose pretty enough to take a million dicks in the throat and still be NBA wife material. I'm speaking of the regla ass women of the world. The Yous and Mes and Hers of the world . Sure women like to think that they can hoe around as much as men. In a perfect world where black unicorns named Horny Ca'Docious ( random, i know) roam freely amongst black owned beauty supply stores a woman wouldn't be considered a hoe but we don't live in perfect world. We live in a world with incurable diseases, homelessness, rapists and Souljah Boy so, yes, a woman with high mileage on the vagina can and, more than likely will be, a lemon. If I'm lying, honestly admit you fucked 34 men in the last 11 months. I'll wait.

Missing Pieces under the Hood: I know she seems intelligent and it appears that everything is there. Seems = not good enough. Ask her questions other than who her favorite rapper or actor is. If she's a lemon, she'll probably start to stall or cut off. A true lemon only has enough juice to last through a few dates to the movies and the Cheesecake Factory. Now, what good is a car that has nothing under the hood? Trust me... its useless and you aren't going anywhere just like that dumb ass broad you're wifin'.

Ole fucked up interior: I bullshit you not - one of my closest friends went to an auction and purchased a 745 BMW that has a semi-permanent odor of a dead man's ass and a backseat that came from another car. Auctions finest... Pretty sure it came from a drug dealer. Anyway, I mentioned that because it doesn't matter that he owns a car that's beautiful on the outside when the inside is all fucked up. While you're impressing folks with your pretty car and spinners you're also uncomfortable as hell sitting on a crate with a bungee cord wrapped around your waist looking like a damn crash test dummy. This applies to women too. No man wants a beautiful woman with a stank ass ole scriggity-scraggity ass interior. If you have a "my shit don't stank/fuck old people/fuck charity/ I like my job at the check cashing spot/fuck African midgets/put extra egg in my yat gaw mein" attitude I don't give a damn how fly you think you are, you will be sitting on that lot of love for the rest of your life.

There are no KBB values for snatch (and penis). There's no Coochfax report to tell you how many wrecks she's been in or how much body damage she's ever had. There are some totaled out hoes out here just itching to get you caught up in a high-interest buy here-pay here loan. However, unlike cars, the good thing about us women is that not one of us is alike and for every lemon there's a smooth riding, clean luxury woman with a buttery soft interior, shiny exterior and low to no miles ready to be taken for the long ride home. You just might just have to test drive a bunch of lemons to find the right one for you.

My Last Post About Eddie Long

2010-10-26T12:38:00.000-07:00

This is from one of his members.
Precious has spoken and I shall say nothing else....

PS Im gonna make A.strozier1 a star :) Check out her singing videos smh

106 & MLK Presents Drink My Bread

2010-10-20T08:18:00.000-07:00

Its ya girl Khaki La'Diaz - here with Waka Rocka Flamin. Terrance, well, Terrance couldnt be here today; he's getting vajazzled.

Anyway, im here with half of the nappyheaded sensation, NappyHeadedBros, Rocka to premiere the new video from their highly anticipated album Tales from the Bros: FatBitches, Shrimp Ramen and Abortionversaries. Rocka, its nice to have you here... looking all fly in that... in that... what is that?

Its Goochie, ya know. All Goochie erethang, all day, ere day- from the roota to that toota... but uhm real good- real good to be here.

Right, right...So, Rocka, tell us what we can expect from the new album.

Music good... I mean, good music real good. I do good music so you know?

Great??? Any collabos?

Nah, I mean music good cuz thats what im sposed to do so ya know i not need nobody on this joint but the bros which was good ya kno?

Yeah, I guess so. So, you didnt work with anyone but the bros...

Well, der was me, Lefleur... and yeah music real good tho. My other boy on this one jawn i got... uhm "Wished it tasteded like Ramen". Shit be like "Nahman... you lied when you said it tasted like Ra-man... ate da pussy like a wish sammich like braman... you straight tricked me bitch and im tired-man"

Word? Ok, ok... so tell me bout the first single "Drink My Bread". Its getting a lot of buzz in the streets.

I mean drinking bread cool. Nah, i mean, its good. Yea, drink my bread. I tell bitches to drink my bread because i drink... and well, ya know. Nah, i need a do over

We're live Rocka but its OK- lets go ahead and premiere your newest single "Drink My Bread".

Yeah, uh, dis our new song... and Im going hard in the mufuggin paint yaherdme? Drink My Bread... 106 & MLK... oh Lets Do it.

Support Hip Hop and the Fight Against Illiteracy by Posting This On Your Blog.

I Challenge You to Speak On It: Gator Bait

2010-10-17T19:37:00.000-07:00

In the last few months I've noticed that more bloggers are doing these challenges where they are writing about the most mundane shit just to have a post. Im all for the writing challenges but I've become bored by reading about the last thing you ate for breakfast or the first time you farted in front of a guy so I found it necessary to start my own challenge.

My goal is to find a picture or a video to post on my blog for all of you to read/see. Then, I will ask you to post a comment on the first thing that comes to mind then write about it on your blog.

Now, the challenge:
While surfing the net, I came across a picture that sparked so much hurt, hatred, and sadness that i just had to post it here. I thought about the readers of my blog and wondered if you all had seen the picture and, if so, what you thought about it.

I know its not the first thing you want to see or hear on a Monday morning but I urge you all to look at the clip and picture below then speak on it.

Don't worry... classic khaki fuckery is coming soon :O)

What you just say?

2010-10-07T06:27:00.000-07:00

I dreamed about my post on lemons and had prepared myself to blog about it this lovely Thursday morning but, alas, the 'Lemons' post has been delayed.

As usual, I hop on blogger and I start reading some of my favs. I see that the hubby is talking shit about monkey suits and whatnot but I can’t read it because his blog is considered porn by my job. Then Dai is being all mushy an’ shit about love and growth and... just being Dai. Freckles and her sparkly dress and fancy ass cake is next. Finally, I read Ms. UglyCleanBroke87's blog and that damn post about lemons went right out the window.

You see, there takes a certain level of oomph for me to crank out an ill-mannered post about bullet holed women and after reading the last blog, the energy meter plummeted to zero. I no longer wanted to criticize "aint shit" women- sue me!

UCB87 (yeah, I shortened it) wrote an interesting blog about Obstacles. Go head and click that there and make sure you leave a comment too. For those that are too lazy to read the post here’s a quick excerpt:

This isn't the first time I have heard about and/or witnessed women my age testify about "fighting against the odds," and it is another one of my pet peeves. I try not to judge anyone who got "caught up" back in high school and had a baby or two or three, or four, but I get pissed off when these same women turn around and act as if they are supposed to receive a gold star for a decision THEY made. They moan and groan about how hard it is to juggle having kids, working full-time, AND going to school, as if someone put a gun to their heads and made them pop those babies out.The point I made when talking to my mother is that I don't understand people who talk about having kids, as if the kids are an obstacle they have had to overcome. When I think of an obstacle, I think of something that you had no control over something that came into your life unexpectedly. Overcoming an obstacle would be someone that was hit by a drunk driver and confined to a wheelchair for the rest of their lives, yet they went on to win a gold medal in the Special Olympics. Unless you were raped and got pregnant, you consciously made the decision to conceive that child, and you made the decision to carry that child for nine months and bring it into the world. In other words, it's no one's fault other than your own that you have to get up at 6am every day to get Lil' Ray Ray ready for daycare.

… Bottom line: To the young mothers out there, you do NOT deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for changing diapers during the day, and studying College Algebra at night. If this offended anyone, you're welcome.

I commented on that blog and then saw that it was getting a little long so I decided to just write about that instead. Sorry to all those that would rather read about me shitting on mudslides. Next time, I promise.

I'm not going to lie- I was a bit irritated by the post. Don’t get me wrong, I dig UCB87 but… something about this post just aggravated the shit out of me. I wasn’t offended- just annoyed.

It’s no secret that I’m a young mother. While I will never call my son an obstacle, I will say that being a mother and raising my child is an obstacle. Anyone that’s a single parent can tell you that continuing an education or just living life, in general, is harder when you have children and you’re doing it alone.

ob·sta·cle
noun \ˈäb-sti-kəl, -ˌsti-\
Definition of OBSTACLE
: something that impedes progress or achievement

There are people out here that didn’t expect to end up raising a child alone as a single parent. However, with determination, strength and motivation, they pushed through those long courses while still raising a child when folks probably told them they could'nt do it. I have friends, that are single parents, and I see them struggle everyday. Yes, they made the decision to keep their child as opposed to having an abortion but does that mean that they deserve to struggle or their accomplishments mean jack shit because they made that choice? Should they not be applauded because they did what a lot of other women wouldn’t do and finished up their education?

Until you’re a single parent you can not begin to understand what single parents must go through in order to finish up school and still ‘take Ray Ray to daycare’, on the bus, in the rain, with 4.00 in their pocket because they can only work part time if they want that nursing degree. Until you’re a single parent, you can not know how it feels to wonder how you’re going to buy textbooks for yourself and notebooks for your child or trying to make a 4:30 recital when your exams end at 4 and you're 40 minutes away.

As I commented on her blog, I commend all the single parents out there that push themselves to finish up school while raising a child. I praise them for sacrificing and not giving up on heir dreams and goals. I commend them for not taking the easy road and settling for Section 8 Housing and checks from “da welfare”. I don’t expect anyone to pat me on my back and say “good job on raising your son” but damn if im going to shit on someone else because they overcame, what they considered to be, an obstacle. Im not going to rant and say “ you ain’t special because you raise your kids and go to school”. As a matter of fact, I’ll stand up right now and will say to all the mothers and fathers out there taking care of their children by themselves, folks over 25 with no children or car working a bullshit job with no benefits, senior citizens with limited income, and anyone else that continues their education “Good Job! Rock out with your cock out” (I just always wanted to end a post with that LOL).

Speak on it.

Thoughts on the Freaking Deacon... or Bishop Eddie LongDong... or...

2010-09-27T08:16:00.000-07:00

Let me preface this by stating that I know that I'm an ass. Not just the hole.... I'm the whole ass! A big ass... with spots... like Montana Fishburne.

Now that we have that out the way I'd like to give my glutanic (<--- not a word, is it? Where's C4?) view of the whole Eddie-Long-sucked-a-ding-dong shenanigans.

General thought: He did it. I was not in the room... in the city... state or anywhere near Mr. Long BUT I believe that he did it. I don't know if he really "lured" those young men with gifts of vehicles and trips to places like New Zealand- which , by the way is the gayest place in the world*- but my gaydar is blinking flaming red. The poses, the tights ass gym clothing, that hairline, those "curls", those... shall I go on? I'm willing to bet my whole collection of Garbage Pail Kids stickers that Eddie Long, with his glistening pubic haired toupee and all his sexual chocolatiness, exclamation point shaped body, in that tight ass Under Armour workout gear, slobbed them boys down like someone told him the cream filling would fill in that Flo-Rida hairline. I have no doubt that Eddie Long packed more fudge than Keebler. Bottom (pun intended) Line.

Let me finish-

I'm looking at a scandal unfold that involves a bishop of a mega church, money, homosexuality, and possible molestation and, just like every other instance that involves religious :ahem: black leaders, almost the whole congregation of 25,000 is fully supporting the accused.

While Bishop Long has not been convicted and these are only allegations, let's look at the some of the details so far:

2 young men alleged that Bishop Eddie Long offered money, expensive gifts, and vacations for sexual favors a.k.a pimping. Yes, you heard right! Eddie Long "allegedly" pimped young boys of his congregation.
The same 2 young men also alleged that some of the advances took place during their teenage years
a third man has come forward with the same allegations
a fourth man has come forward with the same allegations
and... Eddie Long has yet to deny any of these allegations

I'm sorry but if someone accused a known homophobic religious leader of being, well, a homosexual that touched minors and paid them for dome (that's oral sex for you that have education beyond the 11th grade), would you not expect that leader to stand up and say "Hey, i don't suck dick. I have never sucked dick and I will never suck a dick". Now, I'm not homophobic at all but I'd be damned if i allow someone to publicly accuse me of eating pink meat and not deny it.

Reporter: Is it true that you provided oral sex to a woman for money?

Khaki: Maam, the last time I've been close to any ones vagina was March 22, 1986 when I slid out of my mothers womb. She had to forcefully push me out of her vagina as, even as a baby, I refused to have my face near any woman's hotpocket. To answer your question: No, maam, there has never been any pussy grease near me since birth.

When the lawsuit first came to light, I laughed, said "damn, another freaking deacon" and kept it moving. It wasn't until I heard that some of the allegations took place when the young men were minors, that i put on my Khaki La'Hansen hat and started really reading into the fuckery. Being a faggoty (no offense) pastor and beating meat is one thing but luring in minors with video games n' shit is just inexcusable.

Had these been young women making these allegations, the story wouldve went in different direction- or, would it? Would the members of the New Birth Missionary (irony?) Church then blame the young women for jerking off their beloved bishop? Would the women be de-victimized and called home wreaking hoes? We live in a country where child molesters are the scum of the society. We have sexual offender registries, programs to help victims of sexual and child abuse, and shows like To Catch A Predator- but as soon as we find out that the accused is a man of the cloth, folks immediately start to claim "scandal" or "lies" as if predators can only be teachers with Justin Beiber haircuts and homeless men.

Hearing about Bishop Long reminds me why I've never had a strong religious background. Too often, I've seen people get so entangled in their belief in a higher power that they refuse to use common sense or focus on reality. I've seen these religious fanatics praise and put so much belief in a MAN, that they'll follow him even if he's done wrong. They can not fathom that their beloved pastor is a human being fully capable of making a mistake and :gasp: being GAY! Can gay people not love the lord or lead a church? That's right... being gay is a choice and if you choose to go against the Holy Bible then you cant really love the lord, or can you? I vote "Nonsense". There are plenty of gay people in the church- but that's another blog.

I've read some of his members say that "I know he wouldn't do a thing like that and I will continue to support him no matter what. The devil is a lie"

Soooo, you mean to tell me- that several people can make allegations this serious against a bishop and all he has to do is show up to his church rocking a beige Rush Hour 2 inspired suit and new toupee, say he's going to fight the allegations, claim this is an "attack" then put his microphone down like he's Randy Watson and everyone is going to follow him through fire and brimstone like he's Jesus Christ III? That speech about being David vs Goliath?
My apologies if any of you are members of NBMC or if you have a pastor that likes to "lay hands" on the members of his congregation and you're offended by my thoughts BUT my advice to you is to follow your own beliefs and STOP PUTTING ALL OF YOUR FAITH IN A MAN.

My opinion is going to remain the same... So, what's yall's?

* I do not know the gay statistics of New Zealand and didnt even care to look them up but N.Z definitely sounds like the type of place you'd take someone if you didnt want anyone to know you were a minister knocking down boy backs.

Why Your Man is Going to Cheat with Me....

2010-09-13T06:30:00.000-07:00

22... that's how many women saw this post title and decided to un-follow me or call me an ugly bitch. "No, not my man"... uh, yes, your man too :Eddie Murphy voice:

Now, for the rest of you that actually decided to read the rest of this post without judgment, this is my point- every guy that has ever told me that he wanted to cheat on his girlfriend with me all had one common complaint: "shorty isnt who she was in the beginning but I love her/we have children/she looks out for me". We arent talking about the men that cheat just because their dick gets hard and pussy is available... I'm talking about the genuine good guys that find themselves having to decide between "love and like". The "I love my girl but I dont like that bitch anymore" guys. Yeah, those guys do exist and I'll tell you why.

Women are probably the biggest deceivers known to mankind and we aren't always the most honest with men in the dating stages of a relationship. The mask of a confident, self assured, and selfless woman is usually used to conceal a self conscious, negative, controlling and selfish bitch. We'll pretend to be something that we aren't just to snag a man. Sad, i know, but that's true shit. The problem with the whole bait-n-switch tactic is that you cant live the rest of your life pretending to be sweet and classy Beyonce when you're really Sasha Fierce- a hoodrat draped in tacky ass Dereon . You aren't cool enough to have an alter ego and he's not buying your double disc of bullshit. He'll fall in love with you but he'll always cheat on you with the person that he really likes and that person you pretended to be.

Contrary to what you may believe or think, men know what they want and its NOT all about looks. I know a guy that left his 10 for a 6 ( i know

, i know... the numbering system again but its the truth) because she ACTUALLY liked the same shit he did and was really a cool and down-to- earth girl. She didn't pretend to be something that she wasnt. She didnt pretend to like football just to get him BUT she showed interest in the things that he liked and guess what, Ms. 10's status still says SINGLE while ole 6's status says MARRIED. So, yes, you may be a dime but your man could still very well cheat on you with Pete the Cat.

My friends have gotten cheated on and always ask "why her over me?". I ask them "why not?". Yes, cheating is wrong but at what point do you accept responsibility for your actions and role in the failure of your relationship?

:pours liquor out for the 52 followers that just disappeared:

Hear me out! You pretend to be cool with your dude hustling and supporting him... but then bitch and moan when he acts like a hustler. BREAKING NEWS!!!! Hustlers don't go on dates and they don't care about "Why Did I Get Married?" They don't come home by midnight. When he cheats, because he will cheat, guess who he's going to cheat with? A bitch that will bag his weed, do time for him and sell her snatch to bail him out. A bitch that actually doesn't care if he runs the street all day. How can you fault him for finding someone that had the same common interests in him?

Why is it that the title "girlfriend" changes a woman so quickly? You no longer like to play video games, you suddenly hate everything rap related, you packed them stilettos up and traded them in for sweat socks and dead ass BK's and you don't really like to cook now, do you? Dating and relationships is just like buying a car and you know what? You're a lemon. A fucking 88 Ford Fiesta with shiny 12 inch spinners and a spoiler. He drove you off the lot and as soon as the warranty expired, your paint peeled and you broke down on the highway of love. How is that fair? Shit, if there were Coochfax reports for women that told a man that you had high miles with several accidents, stank ass interior and rusted exterior under all that MAC most of you would be in a junk yard somewhere waiting for hundreds of men to pick parts from you.

Moral of the story: Changing who you are to get a man will never work and there is no foolproof way to stop a man from cheating on you. However, you can lower the chance of you ending up sounding like a Fantasia song by just being who you are from the jump. Your man has to like you before he can love you. Loving you may make him stay but liking you will make him want to stay.

So there- I've just passed on one of the benefits of having a bunch of male friends to you. You've received some of the inside scoop to that million year old question "why her?" so don't call me a conceited, fat, ugly, stupid bitch because, well, I know I am but could still take your man and then write a blog about it.

:thumbs up, fist pumps and pelvis thrusts for all:

Now, let me ask the women readers this: Do you think that you change after entering a relationship?

Now, for the men: If you've ever cheated on your girlfriend and actually fell for the other woman, what was it about the other woman that made you fall for her? What was the reason why you cheated in the first place?

Fancy Fridays...

2010-09-10T05:45:00.001-07:00

Disclaimer: These pictures contain a high-level of sweetness (sugar) which may result in diagnosis of diabetes, copper deficiency, hypoglycemia, shock, comas, and even death -from laughter, of course-. NABCAS will not be liable for any damages. Please view at your own risk.

"Butta" Timbs BIG, fur BIG, sateen elbow length gloves BIG, fedora BIG, ivy in the background BIG = Frank Lucas Fancy

Chain BIG, matching earring BIG, pose BIG, size 9 pastry's BIG, lollipop EXTRA BIG = 5 Star Fancy

Sateen gloves BIG, 28 piece colorful tracks flip style BIG, matching tank top BIG, matching tutu Triple BIG, negro faking sleep in the background not so big (lose two points)= Tracy Morgan FANCY

shoutout to Freddyo, ykydaw and hot ghetto mess for making my day.

Khaki La'Hansen

2010-09-08T09:17:00.001-07:00

While most of you sinners are spending your nights boo loving (borderline hating), clubbing or hanging out doing grown up shit, yours truly is up prowling the worldwide web for teenage panty sniffers and statutory rapists. Explanation needed? OK...

I'm a superhero... a cape crusader stomping out statutory rapists and perverts one penis at a time... ok- im just bullshitting... well, not really... i dont wear a cape but I've got a cool theme song to the tune of Ghostbusters.

Anyhooo -I get bored... often and I'm also heavily influenced by shit I see on TV. Not a good combo.I watch shows on TV and tell myself "Khaki, you could do that". Most times I cant. There was the time I called myself dissecting a chicken then forgot about it and woke up the next morning with my whole house smelling like a Chinese whore. Then there was the time I tried to back it up like the video hoes... but yall remember how that played out.

Anyway, one lonely ass night a few months ago, i'm watching something on CNN about some woman catching her husband prowling for teenage snackboxes (ahem: coochie) and i got the brilliant idea :pops collar: to do the same thing. I convinced myself that I could tackle online predators by setting up dudes attempting to stat rape like I was Chris Hansen.

Then I realized that portraying a 12 year old being hit on by a 30 year old was just sick and so not my cup of tea... but my idea was still brilliant and the ultimate solution to cure my Friday night boredom. At that moment, I decided to play a 16 year old girl minding my own business...

Whores and Whorettes, let me introduce you to.... Breeziminaj12- a naive 16 year old black girl from Baltimore that watches 106&park and sp3llz errythang l!k3 d!s . She rocks Pastry's and jeggings and guess who her idol is???? Wait for it... Wait for it... Nicki Minaj.

I cant show breezi's picture because, well, they're my cousin's and I need to use them again for future penis pounding so we'll use my favorite representation of a young black teenage girl.... Ms. Precious Jones.

Say "Hi" Precious...

Precious says Hi.

Now, I've had other identities... there was sexcilexi -the barefoot chubby faced white girl, Azianiis -a little Asian sophomore from Towson MD for the small penised man, and 00xBKangel - a snappy latina that stays home while her mother works 11 jobs. All of them 16... which, in my opinion, is old enough to make up their minds if they're going to participate in sexual activity or not yet young enough to prosecute ole man Charlie if he tries to penetrate.

let the games begin....
Blackplanet, 8/6/2010 10:13 PM

hudmodel: hey sweety
hudmodel: howru?
breeziminaj12: h! :) im fin3, how r u?
hudmodel im good- what you getting into tonight?
breeziminaj12: nuffin. My frenz are all out and Im stuck in da house.
breeziminaj12: on a friday sux :(
hudmodel: yea dats not cool.
breeziminaj12: I kno right
hudmodel07: well my name is dre, urz?
breeziminaj12: Iris
hudmodel: Iris your to pretty to be in da house by urself. u dont have a boyfriend?
hudmodel: and btw ur picz are
hudmodel: hot
breeziminaj12 thnks :) no boyfriend
breeziminaj12: u dnt look 2 bad urself
hudmodel: well thank you pretty lady. I do a little bit of modeling- gotta look good so i can make this paper to take care of you
breeziminaj12: tak3 care of me how?
hudmodel: ya kno- take you places, buy you the things that a gorgus woman like you should have
hudmodel: i can take care of you other ways but u not ready for that lol
breeziminaj12: lol u say that now
hudmodel: im serius
hudmodel: what do you like to do?
breeziminaj12: regla stuff... shoppin goin out wit my frenz goin out 2 eat
hudmodel: we can do that together
breeziminaj12: where do you live?
hudmodel: over west- near scutity
hudmodel: *security
breeziminaj12: i kno where dat iz- i stay ova east. near morgan
breeziminaj12: jst luked at ur profile again- ur 25?
hudmodel: damn you just looked at mine?
hudmodel: just look at pics then bounce huh?
hudmodel: i c how you are pretty lady
breeziminaj12: not at all
breeziminaj12: u dnt luk ur age
hudmodel: oic- u dnt either tho. does my age bother you
hudmodel: ?
breeziminaj12: nt at all. does mine bother u
hudmodel: nah, i can tell ur mature for your age and dats all that really matters

blah blah blah, how many brothers and sisters you got? blah, what school you go to blah blah blah

hudmodel: can you get out of the house or can you have company?
breeziminaj12: um i can get out of the house as long as im in the house by 7 when my grandmother gets off
breeziminaj12: wut do u wnt 2 do?
hudmodel: just chill
hudmodel: watch a movie
hudmodel: possibly fuck or eat your pussy
breeziminaj12: wow! gud thing im nt a virgin or nething
breeziminaj12: i couldve been insulted
hudmodel: bae im just telling you how i feel. grown man shit feel me?
breeziminaj12: i can respect that
hudmodel: so you coming to see me?
breeziminaj12: i can... r u cumin 2 get me
hudmodel: yeah in like an hour or so but i may not be able to get you back home.
hudmodel: i can give you hack or cab money tho
breeziminaj12: K
hudmodel: so whats your address and phone number?
hudmodel: text me ur info and ill be there in 45
breeziminaj12: ok, im bout to save your life
hudmodel: ????
breezieminaj12: you know that show "to catch a predator"? That show where Dateline or whoever sets up some silly dude by inviting him to a young girls house to get ass?
hudmodel: nah bt whut do u mean?
breeziminaj12: you couldve been on that show. you couldve shown up with yo dick halfway on the hard and been tackled by undercover police officers that monitored this whole conversation.
hudmodel: what?
breeziminaj12: :sigh: in retard terms- pls read carefully
breeziminaj12: I.am.not.16- i just play one on the internet ;) .... I work for Blackplanet's taskforce team for online sexual predators. We're like the pussy police so to speak and you, mr hudmodel, was 45 minutes from attempting to have sex with a minor... which is against the law and a violation of our website terms of usage. I would like to kindly remind you to think about your actions before attempting to communicate with a minor again. Your account is also being suspended indefinitely.
hudmodel: wtf? r u joking?
breeziminaj12: No, sir, not joking at all.

hudmodel has logged off

I go back to find him a few minutes later and, just like the ones before him, the account was closed and he no longer existed....

Now, I'm trying to decide if I should put a disclaimer on this post because I've had some readers take the things that i say the wrong way, call me ignorant and insensitive and... well, i just decided that i still gives not a fuck.

So, I've Been M.I.A...

2010-08-05T06:22:00.000-07:00

Not that any of you care because the only one that checks on me is KingsMomma but erruhmmmm... yeah, I know its been like 92 days since I posted and its not on purpose- I just dont have shit to write about anymore. How many times can one wirte about teenage fuckery or lacefronts?

Give me some ideas on what to write about... Im just .... BLANK.

What have yall been up to?

Q&A- What would you do?

2010-07-21T06:03:00.001-07:00

No intro necessary- here's the question:

Your best friend is dating a guy whom you've never met. She talks about him all the time, its apparent that she is really feeling him and she tells you that they are talking about being in a committed relationship so she would like for you to meet him. She sets up a dinner date for you to meet him and then you realize that this is guy that you've had a sexual fling with before.

What would you do?

No, this isnt my situation (I would surely tell you all if it was) and I dont have an answer yet but I would like to know what you all would do.

ETA: Award Recd- For real, though? Same trick twice?

2010-07-14T06:18:00.000-07:00

Scroll down for award info-

I'm having one of those days. :kicks up feet and lights imaginary black and mild [bet yall didnt know I used to smoke those things- Khaki hoodrat shit]:

It's crazy because i haven't been personal on this blog in a long time. Mostly because I've become extremely busy these last few months but another reason is that my life is so damn boring now. With a full time job, part time hustle, kid and stress, I havent had time to do much of anything. Last summer/fall, i was trolloping, staking out niggas' cribs and doing hoodrat shit with the bunnies. Those were the good ole days :puffs imaginary blunt: Since November, I've been chill- focusing on my work, my health, education and getting money. I haven't had time to get to know anyone or hang out with anyone besides the folks that visit the blog and the real life friends :waves to Kia, Dani, hubby Rock, the Reeseter and Kwei: thus no interesting personal blogs.

.....
The rest of this blog was moved to the ALL THE SHIT I WANT PRIVATE blog.

See, dis some ole bullshit

2010-07-13T19:49:00.001-07:00

Quick post- if youve tried to click on my blog, it may have come up private. Simple explanation... im pretty sure that an old "flame" found my blog. Older subscribers probably remember 40 bucks... eh, not really important. Anyway, I went ahead and deleted all the posts about limp dicks, ugly girlfriends and what not from my blog. Not because I give a fuck about making him mad, beause I dont, but because, well, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

Anyway- if youre here reading :waves hi: chill for a little bit and comment if you like. LOL

:kicking myself for putting my address out there:

The First Time I Got Caught Not Fucking

2010-07-07T08:57:00.000-07:00

You asked for it so here it is... another installment of "Khaki's Hoodrat Teenage Years".

It was my birthday- March 22, 2000- and I had just turned 14 (OMG - I DID NOT REALIZE I WAS THAT YOUNG. THIS IS GONG TO MAKE THE STORY EVEN HOODRATTIER). I was in love with Eyes- the 17 year old, green eyed Nelly look-alike that lived around the corner in a group home (thugs were in, OK?)- and like every other weeknight, he had called and told me that he was coming by to give me my birthday presents. My parents both worked late night shifts and my little brother and I were left in the house until midnight or later almost every night which gave me the opportunity to play grown up when I barely had pubes.

It was early evening when Eyes knocked on my door smelling of Pussy* roll-on oil (smh) with his doo-rag tied around his cornrows and a We R One tee shirt covering up his teenage muscles and jailhouse tattoos. sidebar: We R One was some dope boy brand that the corner boys wore to show they had a little change in their pockets. There are still some - including crackheads - that still rock it because they saw Marlo wear it on The Wire. It was wack as shit then and still wack to this day.

Anyway, my little teenage stomach had butterflies in it as he handed me a bunch of helium balloons that had happy birthday written on them. 1st thought... awwwww, I cant wait to suck :blank stare: the helium out of them and tape them on my wall next to my RightOn pictures. 2nd thought... Fuck! Where am I going to hide balloons in my house so that my mom doesn't see them??? I took the balloons from him and opened the Shoe City bag that had a pair of all white Air Force One's in them and acted like the young child that I was. .

Back then, you were the shit if you had a boyfriend that bought you anything besides penny candy and huggie juices. A pair of Jordans almost guarenteed some knob slobbing and the going rate for teenage virginity was 50.00 worth of any all-white sneaker (K-Swiss, AF1's, Reebok Classics, 54.11's etc) or 2 fullsets of acrylics and a white teddy bear from Rite Aid. Nike was pretty much for cause of any teenage pregnancy circa 1999-2003. I don't make the rules.

Back to what I was saying- We went upstairs and went into my brothers room so that Eyes could get a round of Tekken (or was it Mortal Combat?) in with him. They played the game for a few minutes or so before he got up and said "alright yo- let me go in here and holla at Khak for a little bit".

We had a ritual. I'd turn on my Gateway PC , put on our mix CD and turn on the bubble screen saver that left my room dark with just a little light- Can you say teenage romance?!?!? . (i hate that i tell you guys so much).

Making out and dry humping like two horny teenagers in heat, i heard a knock on my door.

Yeah?

My brother slightly whispers, "open the door".

I get up and open the door and my brother tells me what no young girl wants to hear when she has a almost-grown man in her room with womb juice on his fingers:

"daddy's home"

Lightening strikes. Rockets blasts off. A midget tumbled from the moon and the Great Wall of China fell down as the pit of my soul plummeted to the soles of my feet. Of course, I didn't want to believe him but something told me that my 12 year old brother wasn't lying.

Eyes hops up and I hear him say "Oh Shit! I thought he was at work!".

"Me too. Where is he?" I ask my brother who is standing there looking at me with sympathy- or guilt- in his eyes.

"Downstairs but..." my brother starts as he is interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Ay Jr- I'm going in the back building (my dad's art studio). Call if you need me." I heard my father yell up the steps.

Bingo! Now was the time to get Eyes out of the house before my father came back in. Heart racing, I came up with a plan that I was sure was going to work. I would look out my back window and when I saw my father go in to his studio, I would have Eyes run out the front door. I tell my brother to look out the window and he shits on my whole plan.

Laughing my brother says "Khak, it's a setup. I'm telling you. He know Eyes is up here. Don't go down there."

"Well, how does he know that he's up here? Did he come up here?" I'm asking my brother with tears in my eyes. I feel like my heart is going to explode. I wasn't doing anything but I shouldn't have had a guy in the house. My father was an ex-karate champion and was scarier than BeBop. He always made threats to beat up any man that "came near his daughter" so i was even more afraid of what he was going to do to Eyes. Thug or not- Eyes didn't have shit on my dad.

My brother shrugged letting me know that he didn't know.

"Alright- plan 2." I took a deep breath "Eyes, you go to the bathroom window and climb out... run down a few houses and hop off someones roof when you're far enough down the block". I was confident in this plan. Seemed fool-proof and I was going to even go the extra mile "I'm going to go downstairs and feed the cat on the porch to distract daddy just in case this is a set up".

My brother shook his head and went to his room while Eyes went to the bathroom and I walked down the steps. I grabbed the cat food from the kitchen cabinet and walked outside to the porch (yeah, we had a hood cat).

"Jaaazzzz" I called out for our tailless cat as I looked around for any signs of samurai daddy.

My cat runs up and I pour the food into the bowl. As I turn around to walk back into the house, I hear my fathers deep voice ask "What are you doing?". SHIT! He was leaning against the neighbors porch and had been watching the whole time.

"Feeding the cat" I reply inching back to the door just in case he caught a flashback of his old days spin kicking his competition into comas.

"Oh, OK. Who's in the house?"

"Jr" I respond as I'm contemplating running through the alley with no shoes and socks on and never coming back.

"Oh, OK" he walks into the house and goes upstairs and I follow him.

He walks past my brothers room and the bathroom to my room. Turns on the light and scans my purple room for his thugged out prey. Even I can smell the scent of a man and Im hoping that he can't. He looks under the bed- nothing. Checks the closet. Nothing. I'm looking at him like he has two fucking heads. He walks into my brothers room and my brother is sitting there with this stupidest grin I have ever seen in my life. Nothing.

"Khaki, you're my baby girl and..." he starts then turns to the left to the bathroom. The door is closed but the light is on. Eyes was cute but had no uncommon or common sense.

My father slightly runs to the door, busts open the bathroom door and who's standing there still trying to open the window??

Ding, ding, ding! EYES! Ole Dumbass Group Home Eyes!!!

I could see the fear in his green eyes and saw that he probably wanted to run but the tension was so damn thick in the room that all you could do was stand there.

"Come here, young man. I need to talk to you" my unusually calm father requests Eyes to follow him down the steps.

I begin to follow but he tells me that "this is mans business" and that I am not needed.

I walk to my brothers room and he looks at me, shakes his head and says "Daddy gonna kill that man.".

I felt bad now. Eyes was going to be killed because of me and he didnt even get any. I strained to hear what was being said and I heard nothing which scared me even more. Was my father chopping him up into little pieces to feed bits of little thug to the neighborhood rats? If he did, what the hell was he going to do to me next? I prayed and hoped he wouldn't whip my ass in front of my boyfriend. I'd rather he punish me to 12 years of hard labor before he pulled out his studded belt and Joe Jacksoned me in front of the guy that had my 14 year old panty pudding all over his pointer.

My brother interrupted my thoughts of torture and said "Yall should've just listened to me. He knew because i told him when he got home".

Muthafuck! I always thought that my brother was down for me and Eyes. Him and Eyes were like brothers and I couldn't believe he was the key player in this whole set-up. I promised myself I was going to get him back for this ultimate sibling betrayal and I did.

After what seemed like hours , my dad called out for me "Khaki! Come here".

I took my time going downstairs and asked "Yes, daddy?" as I looked around for any sign of Eyes or his remains

"Go wash the dishes." He instructed calmly as he sat on his stool painting.

I walked in the kitchen with a puzzled look on my face and washed the dishes. Looking back every 4 seconds, I thanked the Lord for my birthday present- life.

so, yeah, i had some crazy pics to post to go witht his but im annoyed with blogger and... oh well.

Watch out for the Big Girls?!?!?

2010-07-06T10:03:00.000-07:00

If you're familiar with any Baltimore Club music then you may have heard the infamous mix "watch out for the big girls" chanted over and over and over and over (you get the point) again. Go to any hoodrat club and you'd see a crew of thickish women backing it up and waving their hands proudly confirming their "big girl" status. That song was, and probably still is, the Big Girls' anthem in Baltimore and is also the reason why i wake up at 6am to knock out some cardio and strength training.

I cant recall ever having a problem with my weight. I was always a littler taller (5'7) and carried my weight well. Proportioned, with a hourglass figure, I had a normal BMI, toned muscle definition and thickness (thanks to hooking school and eating biscuits :giggle:). It wasn't until I had my son, that my weight reached : ahem: _60+ lbs. Okay, I was morbidly obese. Sue me. After I had my son, i dropped over 70-80 lbs in about 3 months thanks to a failed relationship and depression. Got my swagger back and then... lbs crept back on from health issues! That was fun. I was back in the 200's looking a fat ass mess and I was not happy with myself. I went out to a club with some of my homegirls and walked past these dudes that said "daaaammmm,watch out for the big girls". I looked at him but convinced myself that he wasn't talking to us. We weren't BIG- we were just thick. I was in denial and didn't realize how much weight I had gained until i saw a picture of myself last fall and I had to step back and ask "whoa, who the fuck is that?!?". I took myself off the meds late November and have been on the grind ever since... dropping a total of 57 +/- lbs.

Anyway, my homeboy and I was having a conversation a week or two ago about me working out to lose the extra lbs I had gained. He made a comment that almost set me off.

I think it's cool that you work out because most black women choose not to since its cool to be fat and all.

Come again?

My homeboy went on to make a point that women- black women in particular- were the most unhealthy creatures on the planet mainly because obesity had become socially acceptable. He blamed it on genetics, laziness and being a product of their environment going on to say that" if Ashley Stewart didn't make skinny clothes for fat broads, there wouldn't be any chicks over a size 14; they would adapt and make sure they had something to wear to work. Right or wrong, Khak? Folks done made it too easy to be obese."

:insert blank stare:

He further went on to say "there's exceptions like you, Khaki. Ya know, you had medical reasons and all but there are chicks that take that Monique shit too far- eating what they want and calling skinny bitches evil just so they feel better about that 6 wing and fry combo they're about to inhale. Just another reason why I will probably end up with Sui Lee or Becky. It's too expensive to marry a fat ass Laquisha!".

I wanted to choke him and call him a cunt but I couldn't. As much as I wanted to debate with him I couldn't. He was right- well, sort of. I don't think that it's easy being overweight and i don't think I was the exception. Shit, i remember being out of breath walking up the steps and going to 5011 stores just to find something that looked decent on a bigger me. I also remember not doing the 30 minutes of cardio that my doctor suggested I do. I cant speak for someone that has went through a lifetime of weight struggles but I can imagine that being laughed at, judged, ridiculed and stared at whenever you're at a restaurant does not make life easier.

Now, on the other hand... I thought about the women that I see on a daily basis- most overweight- most proud or pretending to be proud of their chunkiness. I thought about an episode I saw on Dr Phil discussing Anti/Pro Fat organizations. The Pro-Fat group were celebrating being overweight and while they didn't discourage exercise and healthy eating habits, they also didn't encourage it either. The Anti-Fat group, consisting of Jillian Micheal's and two unknown folks, went on to criticize the other side and had websites ridiculing overweight people. One guy was a personal trainer and used insults and military style training to get his clients in shape often yelling shit like "Go head and quit you fat slob!!!". I thought about the white women at my job that were all thin and went walking on lunch breaks and the black women that sent out early emails "Popeyes or KFC?".

Was he right? Is being unhealthy and overweight 'in" in the black community? I needed another opinion so I asked a close friend of mine and she responded:

Well, no one wants to be a fat ass Khak. It's like this- if you don't have the motivation to change or that's all you see, it's almost like you have to embrace it. You end up conforming and adapting to what you see and who you are. It's not "cool" -it just is what it is.

I understand all points from both my female friend and male friend. I have noticed that most, if not all, of my black female friends are either overweight, unhealthy or getting close to it. I understand that a lot of them are not happy about their weight but also make the choice to not do anything about it. There are few that encourage my new found healthy eating and exercise habits while others make negative comments such as "you're gonna start looking like a white girl" or roll their eyes at me counting calories. I am no way near skinny but I am pretty damn close to my ultimate goal and I take pride in knowing that I am extending my life by eating better and exercising.

What are your thoughts? Do you think that being overweight in the black community has become acceptable and celebrated?

thinking of putting before and after pics but... eh.

It IS a SMALL world after all....

2010-07-01T09:55:00.001-07:00

I've been having a serious case of bloggers block... OK, I'm lying. I've just been lazy as shit. Today was no different and I had no intentions on posting my blogs on my teenage hoodrat shit or plus-sizedness simply because of lack of motivation. Then a wonderful thing happened!

I'm sitting at my desk and I see my Gmail account flashing to let me know I have new mail. I clicked the link and saw a name I didn't recognize but a blogger name that I did. I'm like a kid at Christmas when it comes to texts, emails, phone calls... pretty much anything that lets me know that someone wants to talk to me. wow, i cant believe i just admitted that.

Anyway, I read the email that said:

Was going through my vacation pics and thought you'd like these 2 pictures.

Along with the "khaki, does it really taste like v8 splash?" emails, I get these messages all the time from readers and commenters that know I'm appreciative of any fuckery but this one was special and needed to be posted because... well... look at the pics and you'll know why. If you don't why my endorphins started to go out of control causing me to feel all gay inside, then you don't know me and should refer to the tags.

My heart smiled and I laughed so hard as I saw this little blessing in her mono-kini and borderline pregnant gut and drumstick legs not giving a damn about her stature. Then... I squint my eyes and I'm thinking to myself "Damn, that sort of looks like Shortie". Of course, I couldn't see her face but it cant be that many cocky, black 3 footers with that build walking around. So I text my "uncle" and ask him if he's spoken to Shortie lately and he tells me that he hasn't because the last time they spoke she gave him an attitude and called him a "triflin fag" before hanging up on him.

sidebar: See why I wanted to hide her grabbers from her? She's straight rude for no reason. She get all types of government assistance, midget scholarships, has one of those adaptive cars with the post office truck gear shift, and acts like the world owes her something because her mother did crack and her daddy stuttered causing her pollypocketness. Bitch please! I don't go to pity parties because I don't have shit to wear. Fuck outta here with the woe is me- why don't you have a step stool if you knew i was coming?- you think I can try out for Americas Next Top Model petite edition?- none of my shoes have high heels bullshit. Waaah fucking Waaah! Embrace your midgetnism that gave you that donk! Some folks eat 423 biscuits a year just to get a speedbump and you were... Let me compose myself.... :breathe:

Anyway, I send the pics to my uncle and an hour or so later he texts me back "Yup, Kita said that's her. Where you find those pix? 'Elves gone Wild'?".

Holy Midgets Batman!

I haven't been this excited since the last Good Times marathon. Thanks again Kingsmomma for making my Thursday!

The 2nd Time I Got Caught Not Fucking...

2010-06-30T08:36:00.000-07:00

I did some crazy shit as a teenager. Not crazy like murdering old ladies or shooting up dope or middle schools- just typical 'man, if my momma ever found out what I did, they'd be reading my obituary in the paper" shit.

Let's take a trip down memory lane to 2001. I was a sophomore in high school, dudes still rocked Girbaud jeans and Bo Jacksons and my best friend, at the time, was Melanie. As a teenager, Melanie seemed cool at the time but as I grew older, I realized she was a just a jealous, bi-polar, psychotic bitch with the tendency to sleep with her friend's boyfriend, husband or daddy. Simply put- Melanie had issues that I was too young to realize but we had fun together. You know how everyone has that cousin that you love going to their house because you do the illest shit but your mother pretty much banned you from going? Well, Melanie was the cousin that I wanted to hang around and do hoodrat shit with and, together, we were rebels that missed a total of 72 days of freshman year hooking school to watch videos and eat biscuits. <---No, there was no weed involved. Someone said that eating biscuits would give us big asses and we wanted big asses soooo... we ate biscuits... like everyday. Don't ask..

Moving on...

After our parents found out that we skipped school damn near half of freshman year, her parents banned us from being friends but just like Romea and Juliet, we snuck around to be friends. sidebar: now, that I'm typing this shit, I'm feeling really gay but I'll continue.

It was March 2001 and my school was out for professional development day or someone burned a trash can- cant remember. Anyway, Melanie had hooked school and stayed home that day so I blocked my number (remember the "you cant be friends with Khaki" rule? Her mom was on that caller ID all day, every day) and called her up letting her know I was coming to get my clothes she borrowed. She told me that it was cool and that she had company but I could still come by.

I walked to her house, knock on the door and she comes down with a Winnie the Pooh nightshirt on and no bra. After the giggles and "girl, who you got up there?" conversation, she locks the door and tells me to wait a minute while she goes to get my clothes. I sit on the chair next to the door and a few minutes later i see a shadow come up the steps to her porch and hear someones keys jingling. Peeping out the window, I see her stepfather who I called BeBop because he looked just like that thing from Ninja Turtles.

Anyway, my heart stopped and I damn near pissed on myself. I knew he couldn't get in because she locked it from the inside but what was I supposed to do? I must've said "fuck!" a million times while I contemplated my next course of action.

After I promised Jesus that I would never be bad again if he let me out of this, I came up with three options. (A) Run upstairs, tell Melanie and we work something out. (B) Not tell Melanie, run out the side or back door and just find out what happened later or (C) just stand there and cry hoping my silent tears would make him go away.

Had I known that Melanie was a crusty bitch that would later fuck my boyfriend, I would've went with (D) Open the door, say "Hi Mr. Bebop. Mel is up there fucking some 23 year old that she just met in the Baltimore chatroom" then bounce but, like a true friend, I chose Option A. I ran upstairs with my soft bottom Mary Janes on and lightly knocked on the door. Agitated, Mel opens up the door and asks "what's up?".

Stuttering, I tell her that Bebop is here.

"Stop playing! Here? Like, downstairs here?" she asks me with her nekkid self wrapped in a sheet. Im willing to bet that her cooch dried right the fuck up as soon as she heard her stepfathers name.

"Yes MUTHAFUCKA and he's going to kick our ass. What are we going to do?".

So, Mel the Brilliant tells us to stay upstairs and try to get up to the attic, which was in her room, while she went downstairs to open the door. We knew her stepfather had to get back to work and that he wouldn't be there long so the best option would be to hide until he left. Bebop was mean like Jermaine Jackson's hairline and Melanie had told me before that he would "abuse" her and they would physically fight while her mother just watched. I didn't know whether to believe her or not but he did look like he killed puppies as a child so I made up my mind early on to not fuck with that man.

So, Mel goes downstairs to open the door and dude is sitting on the bed with damn near no clothes on asking whats going on, who's bebop, how old is Melanie blah blah blah. Basically, all the shit he should've asked before hitting the Hotpocket of some chick he met in an AOL chatroom. I tell him that her stepfather is a mean fuck that's downstairs and if he doesn't get that attic door open we're going to die or he's going to jail for statutory rape. This is when my distaste for short guys developed.

This 5 ft 7 dude is hopping up and down trying to reach the cord to open the attic. I'm thinking to myself that this short bitch isn't going to get it so I have to find somewhere to hide before Bebop hears the jumping and comes up stairs with his machete. In true white girl fashion- I lightly ran to the bathroom, jumped in the shower and hid behind the shower curtain.

Breathing hard with my hand over my mouth, I can hear Melanie explaining to Bebop some bullshit story as to why she was home and him asking her questions about chores. She tells him she did them and that she's going upstairs to clean her room. Thinking the coast is clear, I hop out the shower and run to her room to see her standing in front of the guy and asking where I was.

She says that she doesn't know when he is leaving and she asks us to hide on the side of the bed, under a blanket because he looked like he was about to come upstairs to change his work shirt.

"I'm not hiding under no fucking blanket Mel." I tell her.

The 20-something year old agrees, "Nah, I'm not down with that shit either shorty".

Seeing the tears well up in her eyes and hearing Bebop's footsteps come towards the steps quickly changed our minds and me and ole boy go to the side of the bed and hide under this big ass pink blanket.

A few seconds later, I hear her stepdad come in and I'm shaking like Ali. I know im about to be murdered next to some dude that smells like 15 year old pussy and I didn't even do anything.

"Who's up here?" he asks.

"Nobody- that was the TV." Melanie says with obvious guilt in her voice.

"What was the TV?" he asks as he inches closer.

Flashes of dude on Menace to Society saying "you know you done fucked up, right" went through my head. I could hear him walking closer to us with his work boots and just as I'm about to bust out in tears and deny everything, this muthafucka rips the blanket off of us and says "AH-HA!" like he just solved a fucking murder mystery.

"So, y'all fuckin in my house?!?!?" he asks.

Shaking my head, I stand up and, like a scared bitch, say "No, sir. Not me. I don't even know him.. i just came to get my clothes and then..."

WWWWAAAAPPPPP

I see Melanie go down as her stepfather bitch slaps her into the dresser.

I look at her laying across the dresser and put my hand over my mouth as I visualize this big 6'5 negro slapping me next. I start planning my next move... jump out the window? Nope, I'm wearing Mary Janes and i am not a damn cat. Start crying? Bingo. I start crying... hard.. Chris Brown 2010 BET Awards hard.

He points to us, with these crazy ass eyes and and says "You muthafuckas got 15 seconds to get out my house before I start kicking ass".

Needless to say, both the guy and I jumped across the bed and pushed each other as we ran down the steps. I didn't even make it to the porch step and the rapist was backing up the one-way street with screeching tires.

Scared that she wasn't lying about her stepdad being abusive, ya girl Khaki grew some balls and went back in the house to save her dear friend Melanie. I walk back in and her step dad is telling her mother that he came home and smelled sex and knew something was up and then saw me there and wanted to kick all of our asses and he knew they fucked because the guy didnt realize that he dropped the condom when he pushed me to run down the steps.

I heard that man say he wanted to kick my ass and saw Melanie sitting on the couch covering her face and I lost my testicles and I bitched up again. I asked if I could go upstairs to get my cell phone I left and he told me that I could.

I was brave and determined to save my friend as I went upstairs and scribbled a note telling her to meet me at the the corner of LochRaven and Windemere. Balling up the paper, I went back downstairs and threw it at Melanie before making my break. I ran about three blocks and hid in an azalea bush until I saw Melanie running towards me looking like she just got in a fight with Mayweather. I ask her what happened and she said he found the note, she hit him in the head with a candy dish and ran to meet me.

Before I could say anything, I see his red truck pull up to us....

You asked: Rock's Answer to Busted White Women with Fine Black Men

2010-06-16T10:53:00.000-07:00

Lechuga empezar.

Let us begin. Wait for it......C'mon Son. You can laugh. It was funny.
Time and time again I am asked the question, "Why do attractive black guys go for big fat white women" or "busted white girls?"

My response? It's not that handsome black men are all off shagging white sea-walruses, but rather that you all tend to look past those with model-hot caucasian girlfriends and call them race traitors.

Ever heard this one "Ohhhh, he look's like the type that likes white girls"? I've never heard that said about a black guy dating Kiko the big white Orca. Go ahead, call him a race traitor...oh you won't? That's because you're a hater and wouldnt dare hate on the Idris Elba looking dude with the white dimepiece hotter than you. You'd get embarassed. Congratulations, you know your role, but still have enough "strong black woman" in you to hate on the low hanging fruit. Get em'!!!!

Now that that's been said, the truth is this: A lot of well to do black men are dating alabaster slum pigs. In my personal opinion this could be for 1 of 3 reasons.

1.) Low Hanging fruit Syndrome: it takes less work to woo a girl who is not used to getting wooed.

2.) Hook a brotha up syndrome: If you notice, a lot of these fine brothas (no homo) who can be found with the female version of the stay puff marshmello man are really jus deadbeats. Some are broke ass deadbeat dads, some are lazy jobless fucks, and some are just using her "I'm so fat I get social Security Disability at age 25" money to finance their own drug trade. Bet you never seen a fine black lawyer with a melanin deficient chubby chunker...Unless she was a doctor. WHo am I kidding. There are not fat chick Doctors.

3.) Love.... I almost wanted to replace this one with "maybe he used to be a fat white giel syndrome" but I'll be nice.

Other theories include "she gives good dome because it reminds her of twinkies, creamsicles and other food", "she knows how to cook syndrome", and the tried and true "F**king with Puertorican girls has altered my ability to distinguish between thick and Fat syndrome."

Careful fellas, your Captain Ishmael asses may be one slippery slope away from sleeping with Moby-Twat. Ladies, if he's so fine, stop chasing Jay Z lookin dudes with money. Let the real dudes know, before its too late.

The Beauty and the Beast Theory- Opinions, please

2010-06-11T06:13:00.000-07:00

Opinions please...

The cousin and I were having a very heated discussion about physical appearances and dating yesterday. The topic: attractive people who end up with someone unattractive. Trying to figure out where that came from? Well, I was on the phone with my cousin while shopping and walked by a dude that was fine.. mmm mmm mmm fine. Dude was fine like Chili's baby hair edges. The girl that had her hand in his back pocket... not so much. Nicely put- She was a bucket. Not very attractive at all and passed the "what would make you a bucket?" test with flying colors. If the Nappyheaded Bros compared her to a car, she'd be a Daewoo with pink spinners and Tinkerbell seat covers. Alright, that's enough bucket bashing.

So, i say "damn, either they've been together for a super dumb ass long time or he's using her". Wrong? Maybe because that seems to be the case a lot but hear me out, please.

Now, my cousin who's the never been in love- never-been-kissed-or-fucked- happy-go-lucky- everything-is-rainbows-puppies-and-I-shit sunshine type, is appalled by what I just said. She can not fathom the thought that most people look at the outside first then the inside. My cousin refuses to believe that human beings could be so vain. She wants to believe that this fine ass Reggie Bush type dude ended up the this goon of a woman because he looked at her and thought "wow, she looks like she's smart and I'm sure she can stimulate me mentally".

So, I explained to my purest virgin of a cousin Khaki's Laws of Attraction.

Law 1: If fine woman ends up with Quasimodo the Hunchback of Notre Dame it's because (A) he has money (B) he has something to offer her that she can't/won't offer herself included but not limited to financial stability, power etc. or (C) he's the rebound dude and (A) and/or (B) more than likely applies.

Law 2: If fine dude is with bucket it's because (A) they've been together forever and he just got used to her ass or (B) he's using her for something and then it ends up going back to reason (A)

Law 3: People are attracted to other people as attractive or more attractive than themselves and a deficit in attractiveness can be made up with other attributes. Example: 5's go for 5's and higher but may settle for a 3 or 4 if that person is wealthy or holds a position of power. There's also a sliding scale of attractiveness but I don't feel like posting it.

and last but not least..Law 4: If you don't believe in any of the previous laws, please refer to the "Lil Wayne and his 18 baby mamas" case study. The study shows scientific evidence proving that a drug addicted rapper with the face of a gecko can meet and impregnate several universally attractive woman with his powerful baby pudding simply because of his wealth and fame.

Got it? Good.

Now, her argument? Look at Tiny and T.I and Jay-Z and Beyonce.

Argument FAIL!

They are both couples that prove my theory is quite accurate. Tiny is a badger all day every day but she's been with TI since she's had a relevant career. They have children, history and, most of all, she had the money first, no??? TI's loyal to her in a sense that he wont leave and even put a ring on that badger finger BUT there's speculation that he's still creeping with Hoopz. Jay-Z? Wakes up and goes to sleep as a camel-faced man but he's fucking Jay-Z! Lovely camel humps and all, he's going to pull 10's.

More proof? Even Disney follows Khaki's Laws of Attraction. Beauty and the Beast... classic love tale of beautiful woman finding the inner beauty of a man-beast. Awww, thats so sweet. BULLSHIT. Belle was trapped in that house... had no where to go and she didn't even like the beast until she got comfortable in that mansion, met his talking pots and saw his expensive book collection. She didn't grow to love his looks; her tolerance for ugly built up. If this movie was done in 2010 and Aaron McGruder wrote the script, Belle would be the high school cheerleader who found true love in a Patrick Ewing faced guy with a mean jump shot. Beauty & the Beast Part 2: Belle, the NBA wife.

I know you guys are going to be fair and honest so, what are your thoughts? Is my tight-holed cousin right? Am I just a vain asshole with too much time on my hands? Don't you answer that last question.

All.Black.Everything... now I will be happy for the rest of the day...

2010-06-07T08:18:00.001-07:00

*dead*

jacked from DurtyMo

Edited due to Rock Hijacking: Another Adventure in Bird Watching- Part 2

2010-06-01T07:19:00.001-07:00

I needed a break..... damn job was stressing me out. My lack of summer dick is fucking depressing.... my son went away for 3 weeks and the IRS recently informed me that someone in Texas stole my identity which will take me months to clear up. yeah, shit is fucked up. However, even with all that being said, i still found the silver lining and continued to.....

BIRD WATCH!

These birds were out in full force this memorial day weekend. Wet Seal and Rainbow must've had a 2 for one deal on plus sized biker shorts, tank tops and jellies because I swear I saw three precious-like pigeons rocking the same torn legging shorts and glittered Baby Girl tank top like they were Sasha mufuggin Fierce. I soooo wanted to take pics this weekend and i swear that was the plan but... er uh... what had happened was Gary Coleman died..... and then.... so... i didn't get pictures BUT what I do have for you is another bird watching adventure with Khaki's National Ge-hographic! Say you love me... say you love me... go head say it then put it in a love song :) <--- Gay? I know, I know.

Khaki Irwin here again to take you on another whirlwind adventure of Bird Watching around the world wide web. We'll travel to the depths of the hood to capture pigeons in their natural habitat and still make it back home in time for Murry Steakhouse chicken fingers and red Kool-Aid. So, put on your bird protectors and follow me!

First stop... my home for the time being BALTIMORE where we find the Pigeon.

Look at her standing like so with her tatted up body in that 6.99 Body Basic "lingerie", wrinkled up leather-like ComeFuckMe Pumps fresh off the hanger with that cheap ass hair flowing. I'm thinking either pregnant or bloated from the Alize... thoughts?

Sidenote: I hate pigeons. Really- they are the niggas of the bird family... cant stand em... try to keep Alka Seltzer and bread with me whenever I go downtown just in case I need to explode them. Nasty ass birds walk the street like they own the place. They'll shit on you and the fucking savages will rob you for whatever food you have. I'll never forget the day I was coming home from school and saw a flock of pigeons fucking each other up over what I thought was bread. After some big burly 18 lb pigeon strong armed the smaller pigeons, it was then that I realized that 10 pigeons were fighting over a chicken bone. A fucking chicken bone. For real?!?!? Not only do y'all become lions and try to kill each other over food on some Animal Planet shit but then to find out its a distant cousin?!?!?!? I hate em. Point blank.

Somewhere on someones or some thing's bed in my birthplace and hometown Orange, New Jersey (hi REEESSSEEEE!!!!) we have... the Ugly Duckling. Now either that's some raw duck meat ate down to the first layer of epidermis in between her legs or she got her feather covered Crunch N Munch exposed.

Po thing will probably never be a swan but that doesn't mean she isnt stunting on you bitches with that Top Model pose.

Shit, I almost let her slide til I saw those hanger C.F.M's. CHECK!

Next up we travel south to Miami, Florida (waves to Stacie Ann) to capture the FLAMING-HO! Now, they're not lawn worthy and probably have Shrek's swamp water pussy sludge but everyone likes pink, no?

Yes, Rock, I know you'd hit shorty with the pink wig but for the sake of not ending up with a dick covered in sesame seeds, please say "No!".

Next up- we fly west to Mardi Gras in New Orleans and come across ... A PARROT. Look at this Crayola explosion of pure fuckery in her plastic jewelry and feathered prom dress. Polly don't want no fuggin cracker. Another bitch with bird flu in immediate need of a new get-up STAT.

While we're down south... let's swing over to the ATL for.... a COCK or Two?!?!!!! Doesn't matter, he wants them all. Oh, yeah... men can be birds too. This is somebody' first born son rocking his grandmother's wig and 5 o'clock shadow at 10am. I support the gays. Shit, I even went and wasted 10.50 on that Just Wright movie but, c'mon... this is a damn bird. I bet he rocking CFM's too! A real queen would not step out looking like this... CHECK!

Put your bird blocking goggles on and let's hop back on flight and travel north to somewhere near Bumfuck, Wyoming to witness...The Muslim man's wet dream and Tiger Wood's weakness.... the DOVE. This near-sighted bird with soft, white skin like Avirex leather got the bird game down. Sexy pose with finger in her mouth, two piece cheetah print "outfit" with hair tie around her wrist and 19.00 frames on??? CHECK!

Anyone know where we can get a good... SMOKED Turkey? Me neither but let's travel to Chi-Town to take in the beauty of the Thanksgiving bird. I'd say pluck it, baste them ashy ass calves and elbows with some WD-40, roast it up and serve it up on a platter with dressing. Then again, I hate dry ass turkey and i wouldn't dare eat Stove Top out of anything that resembles this. Little ass jersey, booty shorts and Easter shoes?!?!? CHECK! Drop down and get your eagle on, girl!

and I'm tired so let's head back home to Baltimore to get a shot of the state bird... The ORIOLE CRACK BIRD. With class, grace and a body to die for(??), we have the Baltimore Oriole Crack bird perched up in a crack house with peeling lead paint. Just like pigeons, i cant stand the Crack bird. Wanna-be sexy whores strutting past you with 10 year old clothing on and red lipstick.UGH, where's my Alka Seltzer and wheat bread.

And because my husband is always lovingly hijacking my posts....Fresh out of Central California Women's facility for armed robbery, assault and prostitution comes the Compton Jail Bird. Complete with pit bull dark lips, tattoos of Ak-47's and tear drops marked on their faces and bullet holes that look like extra nipples, the jail bird is the most dangerous and vicious species of them all. That gelatinous one looking like "I wish a bitch would said somethin bout my gut" and for fear of losing my life or suffering slashes to the face, I wont say a damn thing.

Until next time...

National Ge-Hographic: Bird Watching Pt 1

2010-05-26T05:59:00.001-07:00

:in my hood rat Aussie accent: Ay there- it's Khaki Irwin here to take you on an exciting bird watching adventure around the world!

Skip the lameness. I bet you all thought that I had no hobbies besides blogging, sexting attempts and shopping. Well, you thought wrong! One of my favorite past-times of the summer is... BIRD WATCHING! No, no, no... not chirp, chirp, flying in the air birds that shit on your head for no fucking reason. Stank ass, gutter butt, flat back hood rat women a.k.a birds. :sigh: There's nothing more exciting than seeing these birds trying to outshine... well, everybody.

Whether you're at the club, gas station, movie theater, mall, beauty salon, church , there's always a good chance that you're going to run into a bird justa standing there popping their bubblegum while having a loud ass conversation on a pre-paid with another bird. Free entertainment and exposure to wild life... Whoo Hoo!

Now, before you start yelling at me for judging a book by its cover, please understand that I truly do not give a fuck what you say. Sometimes a cover is all you need to see to know that you dont want any parts of the inside. Most covers actually give some kind of clue as to the content of the story, no? You ever went to Barnes and Noble and saw a book with rabbits on it but opened it to only find out that it's about communism? I didnt think so. This isn't about reality- this is about perception.

so moving on...

How to Spot a Bird

1. If the first thing you notice is some outrageous, loud and clowned out Bronner Bros hairstyle complete with multi-colored layers and candy wrappers....BIRD!

2. Check out her nails... are they chipped, cracked with ragged edges like steak knives or bedazzled like a 80's denim jacket? BIRD!The bird uses her super long acrylic nails covered in rhinestones to grab various dicks, forty ounces and whatever else she preys on.
I love pretty nail designs as much as the next girl but a bird always goes too damn far.

3. Scan down to the feet... EAGLE TOES!!!!! She wanted to wear her homegirl's shoes so bad that she didn't care that they were 3 sizes to small.

4. Ill-fitted clothing: If she's rocking some booty shorts that expose her sunshine and her moonlight or her speed bump gut and silly putty titties are exposed: BIRD! It's never acceptable for a woman to look like she's fresh off the hoe stroll unless, well, she's fresh off the hoe stroll. If it's a Sunday afternoon and you see <-----this walking through the mall... you've got yourself a certified clucker!

5. Facebook/Myspace pictures: Sometimes you'll run into a B.I.D- BIRD IN DISGUISE. She seems nice and classy. Shoes arent leaned over and her nails are a nice short length that could signify that she works in an office environment, then you check out her Facebook page and she's mentioning how she'd like to buy some high-heeled Jordans in one of her statuses (ha!) or you see this in her "i dont give a fuck picture album"---> Pretty girl with bird flu. :( Pretty much any girl that takes ass/crotch shots or middle finger pictures to post on Facebook is a BIRD.

6. Accessories: Plastic earrings, bracelets and necklaces? Color-coordinated ere'thang? Gucchay ere'thang? BIRD!!!!

7. Shoes: My momma always told me that you can tell a good man by his shoes. I'm pretty sure that goes for women too. If she's proudly rocking any of the following, she's a bird: shoes that aren't flip flops that were purchased on a hanger, clear heels, high-heeled anything that shouldn't be high-heeled (damn, i hate those things), those pointy toe plastic pumps that Wet Seal sells, and home-made red bottoms.

8. If she has baby powder on her neck or deodorant balls under her arms.... BIRD!

9. If she rocking a plastic weave, obvious lace front, or she trying to cover up a track line... BIRD!

10. If she has a random baby phat, designer logos, fruit, animal, dick or mineral tattoos etched across every part of her body, SHE'S A BIRD!

Now, if you're still unsure of how to spot a bird, let's do a test. Look at this picture spot the bird shit.

hmmm....

While unlikely, this girl could be a Harvard graduate with a 5 figure salary, but because she looks like a bird... eh, she's a bird.

Notice the hairy pits? That's a sign of poor hygiene: CHECK

The 99 cents headband covering the obvious track line? You cant see the track line but, trust me, it's there. Why else would a woman rock a headband in that position over her head with a bang? That's not a hairstyle; its a cover up for nothing but lies! Only a bird would do such a thing: CHECK!

BIG ASS CHEST TATTOO? CHECK!

Barefoot and popping ass on a dirty club floor? CHECK!

Plastic jewlery? CHECK and CHECK

Outfit from the clearance rack at Rainbow? CHECK!

and just for the hell of it... Spot those cheap plastic bubblegum pumps that come on the hanger and ole' girl chilling on the floor like she watching Saturday cartoons? BOTH BIRDS.

Part 2... coming soon

Make me.... Khaki's 30 Day Quest

2010-05-13T12:26:00.000-07:00

The FINAL test:

This post has been moved to ALL THE SHIT I WANT PRIVATE blog

Bitches with kids?

2010-05-11T08:31:00.001-07:00

I wasn’t going to write today but after reading one of my guilty pleasures' post on quitting bitches with kids, I felt compelled to write about the very same topic.

Today, I read one of the most... blunt, stereotypical and borderline ignorant opinions on women with children that I have ever read in my life. While some things made me giggle and I always admire honest opinions, the post still irritated the hell out of me. You hear of men and women not wanting to date someone with children for fear of baby daddy/baby mama drama all the time so that doesn’t surprise me especially since, in a lot of cases, that seems to be the norm.

The two other reasons had me saying "hmmm, this muthafucka is either an idiot or trying the shock jock shit to get hits" and led me to this question: Are there really men that won’t date women with children because (1) most women with children "aint shit" and (2) because the child is a constant reminder of previous sex without prophylactics?

I’m really sitting here wondering if my son, who means more to me than any man, is a red flag or a negative indication that I am an "aint shit bitch" that should be avoided. Do men look at my kid and say “she must be a ho” or “I like her but every time I see lil nigga I see her sexin some dude raw”?

Again, I recognize that some people are going to see having a baby daddy/mama as unavoidable drama and I would never date a guy that was a terrible father to his own kids BUT I can’t say that I would look at any man or woman as someone's leftovers or damaged goods simply because they have a child. You look at someone’s kid and only see them as a creation of unprotected sex??? Nigga, please.

In a country plagued by high divorce rates, teenage pregnancy and an immeasurable amount of children born out of wedlock, I find it very difficult to place a stereotype on, what seems to be, most of the women in America. I, unlike most of my friends, grew up in a two parent household where we all shared the same mother and father. My parents were married for almost 30 years and in the "hood" that was unheard of so I always got the "damn, yall all got the same daddy?" question from kids in school. I’d meet guys in college that would tell you outright that they would not wife a girl with kids or would have some immature outlook on a woman with children. Ironically, the same men that deemed women with children as hoes or sluts were the same ones, at graduation, thanking their mother for single handedly raising them to be the men that they were today.

After my son's father and I called off our engagement and decided to part ways after a 4 year relationship, I was fucked up inside. The normally happy and confident Khaki morphed into a depressed and insecure version of me. I felt that no one would want me... I felt unattractive and, most of all, I was upset with myself for becoming a 'statistic'. I knew that there would be a lot of narrow-minded men that would overlook who I was as a person once they found out I had a son. That troubled me for a while until I met someone that told me this: There is nothing else more attractive than a woman that can balance a home, career and motherhood on her own. That statement changed me and its something that I will always remember.

I don’t believe that most women that have children "aint shit". There are many successful, cultured, intelligent, beautiful women that work and take care of their children without a man in the household. I admire single mothers and single fathers and I do not pass judgment or make asinine assumptions about them either. I respect any man that could find that much love in his heart to not only love and accept a woman’s child but also become a father figure to that child. Unfortunately, yes, there are a lot of fucked up baby mama/baby daddy situations out there but not everyone lives under such circumstances. My past relationships and my son are apart of me and has contributed to the woman that I am today but they are not the sole meaning of who I am as a woman.

I can not change anyone’s views and I don’t try to. Any man that would overlook my character and not want to date me because of my child wouldn’t pass my list of requirements anyway so a fuck I do not and would not give. I respect preference and detest ignorance.

Please speak on it....
Let me add: I still like Nappyheaded Bros... all of em... even the one that wrote the post Taka Flacka Flame <--- yes, still homo.

How to Not Get Stabbed in the Throat: A Womans Guide to Avoiding Ignant Niggas

2010-05-04T06:55:00.000-07:00

Ms. Eyes on the Prize asked a very good question in the comments section of the last post: " So WTF are we supposed to do?". Walk away? No, then he'll shoot you in the knees or call you a dumb bitch before spitting on you. Cuss him out? Absolutely not! The hoodlum would probably stab you in the throat with a rat tail comb and no one wants to be stabbed in the throat.

As the Mr. said previously, there is nothing wrong with a guy approaching you or "trying to holla". However, we aren't talking about the respectful regular guys that can take "no" for an answer. Today, we're going to go over some safety tips and rebuttals for those 78 degrees and over Ignant Niggas. Take out your notepad... or copy, paste and send this as a chain letter to all of your girlfriends. We're trying to save lives.

If you ever find yourself about to become a possible victim of hollarassment remember this word

I.G.N.A.N.T

I: Ignore- Novice I.N : This one is tricky and it takes time and practice to become a pro at nicely ignoring someone. The last thing you want to do is come off as a bougie bitch by looking at the I.N's then ignoring them. ironically, they don't like to be disrespected by being disregarded so doing so will usually end up with obscenities and/or violence. Simply put: preoccupy yourself = nicely ignoring. If you see yourself about to encounter an I.N or, worse, a GROUP of I.N's, pull out your cell phone and call somebody. I don't care who it is... call your grandmother, your auntie...shit, call the movie hot line or local carry out. Whatever you do... look busy, seem engaged in your conversation and don't give the I.N's any eye contact. Yeah, you'll feel like an idiot for laughing ridiculously loud at the pre-recorded time but you still have your face intact, now don't you? This will usually get you away from being approached by the novice.

G: Go the other way- Unless you are absolutely, positively stuck go the other way. Avoid, avoid, avoid. As soon as you see any sign of warm weather, put your "Ignant Nigga" radar on and when it starts beeping slowly and letting you know there's imminent danger, go the other way. Now is not the time to "keep it real". You wont look like a bitch by avoiding the thugs selling bootleg DVD's. As long as you look busy on your fake phone call laughing like you've never heard that joke before, they'll just think you changed your mind. Doesn't matter that you're a punk bitch and you cant pay for your gas... you're a punk bitch with no bullet holes and that's all that matters.

N: Nice Smile- Intermediate I.N's: There will come a time when you're caught off guard by an Intermediate Ignant Nigga. You wont be able to phone a friend, pick a clue or ask the audience... no lifelines just you and the Ignant Nigga. One of these times will be in the club- where the Ignant Niggas seem to be in sporadic clusters everywhere. They're unavoidable so if, and when, you get approached by one... give them a nice smile and go on about your business. Smile should be just enough to let them know that you recognize them--- 6 teeth maximum. Too little of a smile and you'll seem scared which you probably are BUT I.N's live off of fear so show no signs of fear. Remember 6 teeth only. Go head and be brave and show all your fronts, and then when you deny them, end up with none. if they see more than the 6, they see pussy. Don't question me. Head tilt- OK but body language should still speak "I'm just trying to be nice and not get robbed or shot". The Intermediate I.N will catch a hint and realize that there is too much pussy to be chased to worry about yours and will usually walk away defeated but not violent.

A: Acknowledge and Listen: SuperIgnant Niggas- The super Ignant Niggas are not going to read your body language. Most of them cant even read so they will go on with their lame lines, requests for your number and not even notice that you are backing away slowly. More than likely, if they're with their boys, you wont even be able to back away because they'll have you surrounded like pit bulls around kitten. So, do what you have to do... acknowledge him and listen to what he has to say. If he's trying to "holla", take him out of his routine and extend your arm for a handshake. Listen to whatever it is that he's trying to say. Don't blow him off. Plain and simple- be nice but not too nice. Hear him out and go to the next step.

N.No... T. Thank You: After he's offered to take you to the motel or commented on your phat ass, its time for the rebuttal. Don't go getting long-winded with excuses an shit. "i have a man/woman" means nothing to the ignant nigga. He's going to ask you if you can have friends. If youre dumb, youre going to say No and then... the ignance is going to start. I.N's are simple therefore your rebuttal should be the same. If I'm in the club, I'll hit a dude with "Sorry, but Im not here for looking for anyone; just trying to be here for my homegirl who's going through a rough time. Thank you coming over here though" smile, walk away and SAFE. Whatever you say, begin it with some form of "no" and end it with a "thank you". No one is going to hit you with a beer bottle if you're polite. Well, maybe them Wire niggas but you'll never run into them unless you live on the block so you're safe.

and just because I care... here's three more tips for you.

Stop claiming gay unless youre really gay or paid your gay dues: Now, I don't use the "I'm Gay" excuse for two reasons... 1. I'm not gay and gay people work too hard to be gay for me just to claim gayness to avoid unwanted penis. Eh, I got morals an' shit. and 2. Most I.N's don't care. Most of them would invite you and your girl. Then, if you get the Super I.N's, you could end up like the ending of Women of Brewster's Place with some thug trying to change your sexuality with forceful penis. No, maam - I'm good. I would say that if you can pull it off, go for it.

Turn the music up: I fucking hate red lights for this reason: I.N's will disrupt your traveling to say something ignant to you and you cant do shit without getting a 75.00 red light ticket. Two options: pace your slow down to avoid coming up side to side with them or turn your music up loud enough to drown them out. The key is to see them before they see you and already have your music up so you wont seem like you're trying to ignore them. Remember, politely ignoring = no stitches. I've heard of niggas throwing piss filled bottles into a chicks car so don't think because you can speed off you wont be disrespected.

Giving out wrong numbers is old school: I.N's have gotten hip to the whole "give a nigga the wrong number"play. They'll ask you to call their phone so they can store you or they'll dial your shit while you stand there. Now try walking back to your car after you just lied to an ignant nigga. Best bet is to not give in. Now, if you feel like this mufucka isnt going to budge and you fear for your life, go ahead and give him your number but make sure you take his so you know when to not pick up. If he's pressed and calls you from a different number, you can always hang up or stop answering. I wouldnt do that to someone that you may run into frequently though.

This is an excerpt from the higly anticipated best seller "A Womans Guide to Avoiding Ignant Niggas" by Khaki La'Docker. Copies will be on Craigslist for all those interested in the full copy.

Coming to a corner store near you: Khaki's Decoy Kit for Avoiding Ignance.

Fuck you then Bitch! Part 1

2010-05-03T10:37:00.000-07:00

As much as i despise cold weather, rain and snow- there's a small part of me that gets annoyed when the warm weather starts to break. I don't like to be hot and I don't like to sweat.The thought of top lip sweat and HotPockets (vagina sweat/oveheated vagina) makes my skin crawl. My eyes are punished whenever I see some ill proportioned woman rocking a tank top with princess written on it in glitter and a miniskirt. Dont get me started on the 2.00 Old Navy flip flops that get smashed in the back from the 300 whopper Jr strutting around in them 4 summers in a row. Ok, getting off topic....

In addition to the hygenic reasons and wardrobe fuckery, I've grown to hate the summer for another reason:

IGNANT NIGGAS.

No... not ignorant black men and women. IGNANT NIGGAS. The coons that put their cell phones in their kids names. The niggas that spend 100 to get their car detailed but live in the projects. The niggas that have pool parties in the front yard of their apartment. Them niggas!

*Disclaimer for white people:White people, feel free to laugh or even say it out loud. No, don't say it out loud but you can whisper it to yourself. This isn't a race thing because the white race has some ignant niggas on the roster as well. Furthermore, please note that I'm not saying nigga like Klan-man "i want you dead you nappy headed nigga/ nigga go back to Africa" nigga. Its a bad word, yes, but nonetheless applicable.

I don't know what it is about the heat that makes simple minded men even more simple. As i sit here eating my 3rd Butterscotch Snack Pack (wisdom tooth diet), I'm recounting my Saturday afternoon.

It was almost 90 degrees and I couldn't wait to put on my maxi dress and sandals. I had on my summer-proof face, hair was curled and moisturized and I felt better than I had the last few days. Now, not going to lie, i still had a semi-stroke mouth going on from the wisdom surgery BUT I was still fly. Shrek jaw and all...

I pull up to the gas station, realize i don't have my card and grab my cash to pay the attendant. About 15 feet from me were Ignant Nigga#1, IgnantNigga #2 and little Ignant Nigga #3... All wearing wife beaters, shorts, and some expensive sneaker that they sold a few pills for. I shook my head because I knew it was going to be some bullshit. Either they were going to ask me for money or ask me for ass. Never fails- niggas need money for crabs, snowballs and white tees when its hot and asking for ass is always in season. I did the "gotta-hurry-and pay" walk past them while they mumbled some "hey lightksin" shit and paid the attendant. Entry down- exit to go.

As I walked back to my car, one of them grabbed my arm. :insert oh, no you didn't face:

Ignant Nigga #1: Damn, shorty. Why you in a rush?

Me: I have somewhere to go. You mind letting go of my arm so I can get back to my car? :insert smile: *Gotta smile so you wont get shot in the face or robbed*

Ignant Nigga#2: You look good ma. You should give my mans your number so we can kick it with you?

Me: No, I'm good. Thank you though.

Ignant #3: You good? :laughs:

Ignant Nigga #1: So you not gonna give me your number?

and as I walk away...

Ignant Nigga#2: Fuck you then bitch! Bitches stay thinking they better than somebody.

The hell??!?!?!? No, why? No, really. Can someone please explain to me why all of that was necessary? Does the extreme heat and humidity cause an imbalance in the brain that would effect ones manners?

I pumped my gas with an attitude and went about my business. Unfortunately, that could have went another way and I wouldn't be here typing this blog right now.

And now for another THE MORE YOU KNOW!

Did you know that Ignant Niggas are shooting women because they refuse to give them their phone number? You ask... where they do that at? DC, apparently. (go ahead and click that).

to think... I still have 4 more months of this shit. Im sure Part 2-300 will come shortly.

Aches

2010-04-29T11:25:00.000-07:00

I fucking head aches. My mouth aches. My jaws ache (and not even for a good reason) and my spirit aches.

Last night, I came home, changed into my house clothes and began cooking just like every other night. While texting Crack, I finished up cooking a large pot of spaghetti with wheat noodles. Just like every other night, I grabbed two plastic containers out of my cabinet and filled them up with dinner for the same two people, Ms. Gloria and Shelton. Just like every night, I put the kid in the car and walked up one building to 3605, knocked on unit B. No answer. Knock again... Ms. Gloria's niece, Sharon opened the door, looking like she just had the best high she's ever had in her life.

Me: Hello, is Ms. Gloria around?
Her: No, she went to the hospital this morning.
Me: Oh, OK. Is she alright?
Her: I don't know. She was having a heart attack and the ambulamps [ambulance] took her to the hospital.
Me: OK- do you know what hospital she went to?
Her: No. Probably Good Samaritan or Union Memorial

She closes the door and I'm just standing there confused... shocked... hurt. I'm reminded of November 7th when my father passed away from a heart attack just a few blocks away from here. I remembered walking into Union Memorial almost 3 years ago knowing that I would have to identify my fathers body. Something told me that something wasnt right and I would never see Ms. Gloria again.

I made up my mind to check on her this morning after I came back from the dentist. After leaving the dentist with 2 less wisdom teeth, I stopped home to get my credit card and saw a few neighbors standing outside near 3605. One of the women called out to me. I can never remember her name i just always know her as the woman with no edges. I walk over and she tells me that Ms. Gloria died yesterday morning from a heart attack.

The rest of my body matched the numbness of my jaw as I walked back to my car and cried. I didn't know anything about this woman that I cooked for every night for the last month or so. I met her when my property manager and I was doing walk-throughs for the contractors. I had heard that an elderly woman lived in the basement unit of 3605 and didn't have any family to look out for her except for a niece who, apparently, had a very bad drug habit.

When she opened the door, she was wearing a long nightgown and had her grey hair pulled into a bun. We went to her kitchen to measure cabinets and she didn't have anything but a few canned vegetables and juice. From that day on, I always knocked on her door and gave her a plastic container of whatever I cooked that night. She always said "thank you, missy." as she handed me the cleaned container from the night before.

Today I found out more about the 72 year old woman who loved my baked fish and told me that adding Old Bay to my greens would make them taste better. I was told by another long-term resident that Ms. Gloria was a widow. Her husband and only child died in a car accident in 1974. She had one sister who passed in 1980. She was a college graduate, a teacher, she always paid her rent on time and had no known family other than her niece.

Even though i didn't know her that well, I still felt a connection to this woman. I know that she is in a better place with better company so the ache in my heart is gone. Now the two holes in the back of my mouth... that's another story.

I guess I asked for it....

2010-04-23T05:39:00.000-07:00

I received an anonymous email from a "Secret Admirer & Blogger" asking what was on my "list". Now, I usually don't just go around telling folks- especially men- what I look for in a man but because I pretty much tell the most personal shit on here anyway... well...

The List is broken down into 3 categories: The Musts, The Dealbreakers, and the Bonuses.

The Musts-

He MUST be intelligent- Ms. Khaki can not deal with any dumb guys... and there is no giving a second chance. Been there, done that
He MUST be a good listener
He MUST be respectful
He MUST be god-fearing. Now, this doesn't mean he has to be a preachers kid or go to church every Sunday but I couldn't marry an atheist
He MUST love children- I have a kid and he comes with the package.
He MUST be responsible
He MUST be able to make me laugh- I'm a goofball so... sense of humor is a definite.
He MUST be attracted to women... only --- You'd be surprised.
He MUST be supportive and attentive- I could never be with a man that didn't support me or that couldn't give me attention. I don't require a lot of attention but I do need to feel appreciated and special.
He MUST be single- no its complicated, about to get a divorce, only a little bit in a relationship. If you come with bitch, there will be nothing left for me to say to you
He MUST be honest and trustworthy
He MUST be STD free- Yup, so you know I have a phobia of star crunchy, frosted flaky, burnt rice-krispity labia so... not even the quiet STD's like HPV.
He MUST be clean- You'd think that a grown man would know how to wash his ass... ne'mind, that's another blog.
He MUST have a strong sexual appetite- :AHEM: no need to explain this one.
He MUST be attractive... to me- I don't have a "type". I've met guys that I didn't necessarily find attractive at first and then they just grew on me. Every guy I've dated has looked different but had one commonality- I was attracted to them and something about them just did it for me.
He MUST be ambitious and have goals

The Dealbreakers- You wont even get in the door ....

Drug Dealers, Car thieves etc- Sorry, but if he's killed someone or been in and out of jail, I do not want to deal with that type of drama
Several baby mamas- Again, too much drama.
Madden whores- If you'd rather play Halo than play with me, it will not work
Club hoppers- The having a boyfriend that wants to go to the club or bar every weekend- sometimes twice a weekend- is a no go.
Weed head and drunks- Occasional drinks do not bother me but getting drunk every day and smoking illegal substances are no-no's with me.
Abusive- I wish a mu-fugga would.
Unemployed- I'm not talking about the guy that worked for a company for 5 years and was laid off- I'm talking about the Mr. There-ain't-no-good-jobs-cause-the-white-man-wont-give-em-to me.

And the bonuses- Who doesn't love bonuses?

Great :ahem: - Now, I used to think this was a requirement until I met a dude that did magic tricks with his ahem.
Financially stable
Likes Good Times
Outgoing

Damn, my list was a little longer than what I expected... oh well. LOL

"Bitch, please!" of the week award goes to...

2010-04-22T10:02:00.000-07:00

I fell victim to another reality television show- What Chilli Wants. Yup, another VH1 production following a pseudo celebrity looking for love. How original?

This time the seeker of love is TLC member Chilli. Now, this isn't the typical elimination type of dating show a la Love of Ray J or Flava of Love where someone gets booted off weekly and then the lucky "winner" ends us with gold front or some other coon shit. This one is like a breath of fresh air... okay, that may be pushing it... but the show is different. What Chilli Wants actually focuses on... well, what Chilli wants. Kudos to Vh1 for the creative title. :rolls eyes:

So, the show starts off with Chilli describing what she wants in a man to her dating/love coach Tionna Smalls. After hearing the 14th requirement, I'm looking at Chilli like she has 9 titties and Naomi Campbell's edgeless hairline. She tells her coach that he has to be finer than Denzel, intelligent, cant drink, cant smoke, cant eat pork, blah, blah, blah and the most important and agreeable part- have a big dick.

As someone that refuses to settle and has a list of my own, I understand where she's coming from; however, I also have to question whether these "requirements" are realistic expectations.

Is it really possible to meet a man that has the perfect body, perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfect dick, and perfect mind??? Does that man even exist?

I don't believe for one second that he does exist and I think Chilli- along with millions of other women- have set the bar so damn high that even the President of the US couldn't reach it. Again, no woman should settle for a man that isn't up to her standards BUT shouldn't women question if it's really fair to themselves to miss out on what could possibly be the perfect man for them just because his taste buds desire the rank taste of pig ears?

Unless you have an extreme phobia for pink meat, i would say that a smothered pig ass shouldn't outweigh a respectful, god-fearing, charming and intelligent man.

Women and men should have standards and shouldn't compromise on the characteristics that makes someone a good person or mate. Know whats really important to you in a relationship and focus on qualities instead of the materialistic and vain characteristics that you think are going to make you happy. Wealthy with good hair does not equal good husband not now or ever.

Standards and expectations should align with what you're bringing to the table. You want Denzel? You better not look like Precious! Six pack is a must? That's fine, but your gut shouldn't have any hang time. Big dick must equal good pussy with elastic walls. Asking for a man with money and a Master's when you owe everyone from Rainbow to Capital One and barely have your cosmetology certificate is not going to work.

The point to all of this is simple- How do you know what will make the perfect man if you've never met the perfect man? There isnt a man or woman in the world that can measure up to unrealistic standards. You don't have to agree or even like what I said just watch the show and see how far the woman who has been single for 7 years gets with her list. My money is on her ending up with nobody or Floyd Mayweather- who doesn't drink, smoke or eat pork but couldn't beat Denzel in the looks department if he was offered a belt.

So, folks, do you have a list? What's on it? Are you willing to compromise at all? Does compromise = settling? Thoughts?

30DQ2PS- Attempt 2; Sexting-

2010-04-14T07:34:00.001-07:00

Long title- eh.<-- had to shorten it.

Moving on... I'm quite serious about this whole learning to phone sex/sexting thing. For some strange reason, I am bothered by the fact that I'm not "sexy". Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a nice looking woman and with this Kanye Workout Plan on full effect, I've blossomed into a better, more fit version of me. I like sex... a lot... sometimes more than I think I do and I have the sexual appetite of a heroine addicted rabbit. However, even with all that being said about my physical appearance and my extreme desires to always want to smash, I have come to realize that my points in the sexy category are damn near non-existent.

Those who have read my post on Monday about the 30 days Quest should be familiar with what I am referring to. To those that haven't read, go head and play catch up.

Tuesday... I thought about it... I took some of the advice given to me and I put aside the giggles and convinced myself that sexting would probably be better practice for me. With text messages, the other person doesn't know that I am laughing on the other end... or watching Good Times. So, hubby :waves to Crack: takes it u upon himself to help me out.

The rest of this post was moved to ALL THE SHIT I WANT PRIVATE blog

if you ever get tired of reading the same shit...

2010-04-13T13:13:00.000-07:00

Its not often that I come across a blog that can make me laugh out loud almost daily and give a well-written point of view on everything from strip clubs to trannies while using words I haven't seen since the college, but when I do, I like to shout them out.

You've probably seen my husband, Rock, in the comments section mentioning my panties or saying something else off the wall but, trust me, him and the other blog contributors at NappyheadedBros have a whole lot to offer.

For a good laugh from an ivy league hoodlum, check out the Nappy Headed Bros!*

*Warning: This blog is not for close minded folks with no sense of humor. Read at your own risk.*

Khaki's 30 Day Quest to Phone Sex: Attempt 1- FAIL

2010-04-12T10:31:00.000-07:00

As you all know, my husband lives in another state and because of this we have to find alternative ways to express our sexual feelings since the distance is keeping him from actually slurping up my V8 splash on the usual nightly basis.

just kidding... the Rockstar- who I affectionately renamed Crack- "joked" about phone sex last night and it led me to wonder... how do you do it and why havent I done it before?

Truth be told- I'm a jokester. I talk good game but I'm not into shit like phone sex and I don't even masturbate. :insert frown face: Pathetic, I know.

I have a weird, teenageish-mid twentyish, couldn't-call-the-school-to- get-anyone-out-of trouble, sometimes raspy voice that doesn't seem to be phone sex worthy.I can type pussy in 32 languages but cant say it pay-per-minuteish. There's nothing "sexy" about my voice or the way I speak. I dont do all that talking in the bedroom. None of that, "fuck me daddy", "deeper, harder, faster" type shit. I'm not one of those girls that can call a dude and make his dick hard when I say cum. From time to time, I can be quite vulgar but that's usually through the mouth of my alter ego- Khaki La'Docker. So, here I am- almost a quarter century years of age- and I have never had phone sex. There! I admit it. Take my "Nasty" Card and toss it in the trash with my repossessed Black Card because i never completed the pre-requisite "Phone Sex" course.

Anyway, after my textversation with Rock- i started questioning if I deserved to be this self-proclaimed sexual being. Right, i actually started questioning myself just because I never made a dude :ahem: nut from verbs and nouns. Not me... I will not stand for failure.

Determined to phone sex it with someone, i started brainstorming. How do you do it? What are you supposed to say? Do you moan and pretend to finger smash yourself? Do guys really get off on it? Am I supposed to have an accent? How do you know when you're finished?

I sat at my dining room table with a pink glittery Hello Kitty notebook on the Sabbath and scribbled my fantasy phone sex call for the fantasy man or homegirl that would attempt to hear me pant and moan like Bridget the Midget without laughing.

After 45 minutes sad minutes... SMH- Attempt 1...

:phone rings:

Guy: Sup shorty?

Girl: :moaning:

Guy: hello?

Girl: Im here... give me a second...

Guy: Sure- you ok?

Girl: No... :moaning:... I need you

Guy: :clears throat: what do you need?

Girl: I need you to finish what I started... I just got out of the shower... Im all alone... and I'm :moaning:

Guy: :unzippening pants: what are you doing?

See, then I got stuck for almost 10 minutes. What the fuck am I supposed to say? Is this even going right??? Im no Zane or Katlynn Lasalle. Shit, I'm not even the Cat in the Hat. I can barely stop giggling like a school girl with a busted out LA Gear :snicker: but I move on...

Girl: I have on your Spongebob t-shirt and no panties <---I thought I should've taken out the Spongebob part but I also thought it gave my dialogue character. Eh-

Guy: uh huh...

Girl: and Im tracing my thighs with my fingertips wishing it was your tongue drying the rest of me off

Guy: for real?

Girl: Mmmhmmm... I love it when you cover me with your thick, sticky, day old spit and <---- ok, re-write

Girl: Mmmhmmm... I miss your tongue wandering all over my body until you reach...:moaning:

Guy: Until I reach where, baby?

Okay, now I feel like a fag. I'm lost. This shit is clearly not for me but I don't want to give up.

So, help me out blog fam... I'm giving myself 30 days to be a pro at this. Thoughts, advice... examples ;)

I FUCKING HATE T-MOBILE WITH ALL MY HEART AND SOUL

2010-04-02T06:00:00.000-07:00

No, scratch that. I hate my G1 with all my heart and soul. Less than one year after signing with them, I should be receiving my 3rd replacement phone due to "technical errors from the manufacturer"! Isn't that just fucking lovely?!?!?!?!

So,I wake up this morning and grab my phone to see what time it is and, strangely, my phone is off. Screen black. Nothing lit. I assumed that it died so I plug it up and power it on. The familiar T-Mobile G1 screen comes on... it vibrates... its loading and then I see a something that told me that I was going to have to cuss some random Indian or blond chick out later today... I saw a ga'damn triangle with an exclamation point next to a cartoonish picture of a G1.

Panic sets in...

Reset. Triangle. Clear cache. Triangle! Hard reset. Triangle! Nothing worked....

I get to work and call T-Mobile and tell some blond chick what happened and of course she plays the "i-cant-believe-that-happened-to-you-i-never-heard-of-this-before" shit. Annoyed, I tell her that I really don't care what she believes but I know that this has happened before because the topic is all over the net thanks to Google. I tell her that I just want a new phone or else I'm going to start cussing and her day will be just as shitty as mine. Mean? I know but that's why she gets paid double minimum wage.

Rep: Maam, please remain calm while I research this and see what I can do for you.

Me: Please do not tell me to remain calm while my whole life is being put on pause because Tmobile sent me this bullshit ass phone.

Hold music comes on and I'm getting more and more pissed...

Rep: Maam, lets try a hard reset. Pr-

Me: So, you didnt hear me when I said that I tried that and all I got was "fuck you triangle", right? I thought I made it very clear that I went through this just a month ago.

Rep: I understand but there may be a chance of user error while perf-

Me: Now, you're telling me that I am incapable of pressing two buttons simultaneously because i didn't receive 2 weeks of tech training from the University of T-mobile? Let's pretend that I did it and it still didn't work and proceed with getting me another phone because I am getting really pissed and you don't want me to start showing my ass.

Rep: No maam, I don't. One moment while I begin the process.

She then goes on and takes information and tells me I need 20.00 to pay for expedited shipping and I agree. Even after agreeing to the 20.00 for shipping, I am told that it will take 3 business days. o_O

I mustve turned 9 different shades of yellow. This is not the way to start a weekend. My whole life is ran by that phone. I schedule when I eat, sleep, shit, and run by that phone. My clients cant get a hold of me without that phone. I cant ignore calls from old peen without that phone!

Guess that's what I get for giving out the wrong number for April Fools Day ;)

FOUR BILLION, 8 HUNDRED NINETY ONE MILLION, SIX HUNDRED FORTY FIVE THOUSAND , TWO HUNDRED TWENTY NINE DOLLARS

2010-03-25T06:27:00.000-07:00

of your tax money went here:

102: Protecting a Michigan insect collection from other insects ($187,632)
101: Highway beautified by fish art in Washington ($10,000)
100: University studying hookup behavior of female college coeds in New York ($219,000)
99: Police department getting 92 blackberries for supervisors in Rhode Island ($95,000)
98: Upgrades to seldom-used river cruise boat in Oklahoma ($1.8 million)
97: Precast concrete toilet buildings for Mark Twain National Forest in Montana ($462,000)
96: University studying whether mice become disoriented when they consume alcohol in Florida ($8,408)
95: Foreign bus wheel polishers for California ($259,000)
94: Recovering crab pots lost at sea in Oregon ($700,000)
93: Developing a program to develop "machine-generated humor" in Illinois ($712,883)
92: Colorado museum where stimulus was signed (and already has $90 million in the bank) gets geothermal stimulus grant ($2.6 million)
91: Grant to the Maine Indian Basketmakers Alliance to support the traditional arts apprenticeship program, gathering and festival ($30,000)
90: Studying methamphetamines and the female rat sex drive in Maryland ($30,000)
89: Studying mating decisions of cactus bugs in Florida ($325,394)
88: Studying why deleting a gene can create sex reversal in people, but not in mice in Minnesota ($190,000)
87: College hires director for a project on genetic control of sensory hair cell membrane channels in zebrafish in California ($327,337)
86: New jumbo recycling bins with microchips embedded inside to track participation in Ohio ($500,000)
85: Oregon Federal Building's "green" renovation at nearly the price of a brand new building ($133 million)
84: Massachusetts middle school getting money to build a solar array on its roof ($150,000)
83: Road widening that could have been millions of dollars cheaper if Lousiana hadn't opted to replace a bridge that may not have needed replacing ($60 million)
82: Cleanup effort of a Washington nuclear waste site that already got $12 billion from the DOE ($1.9 billion)
81: Six woodlands water taxis getting a new home in Texas ($750,000)
80: Maryland group gets money to develop "real life" stories that underscore job and infrastructure-related research findings ($363,760)
79: Studying social networks like Facebook in North Carolina ($498,000)
78:18 North Carolina teacher coaches to heighten math and reading performance ($4.4 million)77: Retrofitting light switches with motion sensors for one company in Arizona ($800,000)
76: Removing graffiti along 100 miles of flood-control ditches in California ($837,000)
75: Bicycle lanes, shared lane signs and bike racks in Pennsylvania ($105,000)
74: Privately-owned steakhouse rehabilitating its restaurant space in Missouri ($75,000)
73: National dinner cruise boat company in Illinois outfitting vessels with surveillance systems to protect against terrorists ($1 million)
72: Producing and transporting peanuts and peanut butter in North Carolina ($900,000)
71: Refurnishing and delivering picnic tables in Iowa ($30,000)
70: Digital television converter box coupon program in D.C. ($650 million)
69: Elevating and relocating 3,000 feet of track for the Napa Valley Wine Train in California ($54 million)
68: Hosting events for Earth Day, the summer solstice etc. in Minnesota ($50,000)
67: Expanding ocean aquaculture in Hawaii ($99,960)
66: Raising railroad tracks 18 inches in Oregon because the residents of one small town were tired of taking a detour around them ($4.2 million)
65: Professors and employees of Iowa state universities voluntarily taking early retirement ($43 million)
64: Minnesota theatre named after Che Guevara putting on "socially conscious" puppet shows ($25,000)
63: Replacing a basketball court lighting system with a more energy efficient one in Arizona ($20,000)
62: Repainting and adding a security camera to one bridge in Oregon ($3.5 million)
61: Missouri bridge project that already was full-funded with state money ($8 million)
60: New hospital parking garage in New York that will employ less people ($19.5 million)
59: University in North Carolina studying why adults with ADHD smoke more ($400,000)
58: Low-income housing residents in one Minnesota city receiving free laptops, WiFi and iPod Touches to "educate" them in technology ($5 million)
57: University in California sending students to Africa to study why Africans vote they the way they do in their elections ($200,000)
56: Researching the impact of air pollution combined with a high-fat diet on obesity development in Ohio ($225,000)
55: Studying how male and female birds care for their offspring and how it compares to how humans care for their children in Oklahoma ($90,000)
54: University in Pennsylvania researching fossils in Argentina (over $1 million)
53: University in Tennessee studying how black holes form (over $1 million)
52: University in Oklahoma sending 3 researchers to Alaska to study grandparents and how they pass on knowledge to younger generations ($1.5 million)
51: Grant application from a Pennsylvania university for a researcher named in the Climate-gate scandal (Rep. Darrell Issa is calling on the president to freeze the grant) ($500,000)
50: Studying the impact of global warming on wildflowers in a Colorado ghost town ($500,000)49: Bridge built over railroad crossing so 168 Nebraska town residents don't have to wait for the trains to pass ($7 million)
48: Renovating an old hotel into a visitors center in Kentucky ($300,000)
47: Removing overgrown weeds in a Rhode Island park ($250,000)
46: Renovating 5 seldom-used ports of entry on the U.S.-Canada border in Montana ($77 million)
45: Testing how to control private home appliances in Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts from an off-site computer ($800,000)
44: Repainting a rarely-used bridge in North Carolina ($3.1 million)
43: Renovating a desolate Wisconsin bridge that averages 10 cars a day ($426,000)
42: 4 new buses for New Hampshire ($2 million)
41: Repaving a 1-mile stretch of Atlanta road that had parts of it already repaved in 2007 ($490,000)
40: Florida beauty school tuition ($2.3 million)
39: Extending a bike path to the Minnesota Twins stadium ($500,000)
38: Beautification of Los Angeles' Sunset Boulevard ($1.1 million)
37: Colorado Dragon Boat Festival ($10,000)
36: Developing the next generation of supersonic corporate jets in Maryland that could cost $80 million dollars each ($4.7 million)
35: New spring training facilities for the Arizona Diamondbacks and Colorado Rockies ($30 million)
34: Demolishing 35 old laboratories in New Mexico ($212 million)
33: Putting free WiFi, Internet kiosks and interactive history lessons in 2 Texas rest stops ($13.8 million)
32: Replacing a single boat motor on a government boat in D.C. ($10,500)
31: Developing the next generation of football gloves in Pennsylvania ($150,000)
30: Pedestrian bridge to nowhere in West Virginia ($80,000)
29: Replacing all signage on 5 miles of road in Rhode Island ($4,403,205)
28: Installing a geothermal energy system to heat the "incredible shrinking mall" in Tennessee ($5 million)
27: University in Minnesota studying how to get the homeless to stop smoking ($230,000)
26: Large woody habitat rehabilitation project in Wisconsin ($16,800)
25: Replacing escalators in the parking garage of one D.C. metro station ($4.3 million)
24: Building an airstrip in a community most Alaskans have never even heard of ($14,707,949)23: Bike and pedestrian paths connecting Camden, N.J. to Philadelphia, Penn. when there's already a bridge that connects them ($23 million)
22: Sending 10 university undergrads each year from North Carolina to Costa Rica to study the rainforests ($564,000)
21: Road signs touting stimulus funds at work in Ohio ($1 million)
20: Researching how paying attention improves performance of difficult tasks in Connecticut ($850,000)
19: Kentucky Transportation Department awarding contracts to companies associated with a road contractor accused of bribing the previous state transportation secretary ($24 million)
18: Amtrak losing $32 per passenger nationally but rewarded with windfall ($1.3 billion)
17: Widening an Arizona interstate even though the company that won the contract has a history of tax fraud and pollution ($21.8 million)
16: Replace existing dumbwaiters in New York ($351,807)
15: Deer underpass in Wyoming ($1,239,693)
14: Arizona universities examining the division of labor in ant colonies (combined $950,000)
13: Fire station without firefighters in Nevada ($2 million)
12: "Clown" theatrical production in Pennsylvania ($25,000)
11: Maryland town gets money but doesn't know what to do with it ($25,000)
10: Investing in nation-wide wind power (but majority of money has gone to foreign companies) ($2 billion)
9: Resurfacing a tennis court in Montana ($50,000)
8: University in Indiana studying why young men do not like to wear condoms ($221,355)
7: Funds for Massachusetts roadway construction to companies that have defrauded taxpayers, polluted the environment and have paid tens of thousands of dollars in fines for violating workplace safety laws (millions)
6: Sending 11 students and 4 teachers from an Arkansas university to the U.N. climate change convention in Copenhagen, using almost 54,000 lbs of carbon dioxide from air travel alone ($50,000)
5: Storytelling festival in Utah ($15,000)
4: Door mats to the Department of the Army in Texas ($14,675)
3: University in New York researching young adults who drink malt liquor and smoke pot ($389,357)
2: Solar panels for climbing gym in Colorado ($157,800)
1: Grant for one Massachusetts university for "robobees" (miniature flying robot bees) ($2 million)

24 years young

2010-03-22T06:41:00.000-07:00

Im usually super depressed around my birthday but not today. Today, Im just like "fuck it, it's my birthday". 23 was fun... I enjoyed motherhood, partying like I was a college freshman all over again, doing hood shit and just enjoying being me. There were some bad times but the good outweighed those. I'm at peace with my self and I learned a lot about myself, in general, this year.

So, what did I learn at 23?

Not all men are liars. A lot of them are though.
I'm not ready to commit to anyone but my son.
Ciroc changed my life for the better. I no longer drink and so far I've stuck with it.
Sunshinestar has taught me a lot about myself through her experiences.
That girl clique shit is for the effin birds
When I get angry, I go damn near blind and start forgetting where I am and what I'm doing. The last time I turned into the hulk, a 15 minute drive turned into an hour. My apologies Reese, Frankie and D and I need that recording ASAP!
I effing love makeup
My credit score is low as shit. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown that Macy's bill in the FuckitBucket after all. :hangs head in shame:
Never trust a man with a curfew and a light mark around his ring finger
Twitter and Facebook allow the true pussy in people to show. Subliminals are the anti-christ and the true definition of pussification.
Those junkies in DC get angry if they hold a parking spot and you don't pay for it.
I'm so over clubbing every weekend. Partying was fun until I realized that it wasnt contributing to my well being and I was eating ramen noodles for a week because I spent too much on a pair of shoes and fresh tracks.
My son is the cutest lil' tax credit in the world.
I am one of the millions of Americans that owe the IRS. I brag about working a full time job since I was 15 but whodathunk that I had to pay that much in taxes?
I love blogging
I'd rather have the swine flu than have another hangover
If I do have a hangover, I will not call the Agent.
Angry midgets are scary

Whats next at 24? Hmm.... Im expecting something big this year so that means a definite upgrade in my living situation and financial stability. Less partying... more planning. Less anger, more happiness.... 3/22 is my 1/1 so today im going to reflect and plan accordingly.

:insert Stevie Wonder birthday rendition:

Busy

2010-03-17T07:28:00.000-07:00

Busy as hell.. moving both my job and myself...... be back in a day or so. Dont cry...

Miss you guys and your blogs... especially my husband Rock and my valentine YEBM.

Someone got their taxes back and became American Gangsta

2010-03-11T11:35:00.000-08:00

I'm standing in a long ass line waiting to purchase movie tickets for Shutter Island when suddenly I catch a glimpse of someone that I've seen before. I couldn't quite place it... I felt like I've seen this before...

I squint a little harder and try to make out what I see not even 30 feet from me. Half animal , half man... it's mufuckin Frank Lucas rocking a full length fur coat with the matching hat looking a hot Earned Income Credit Mess.

I bust out laughing and the Agent asks me what I'm laughing at. I tell him "I spy Frank Lucas" and we both bend over in the kind of laughing that leaves your stomach in knots.

I have nothing against fur and I think the folks of PETA are borderline insane so the fact that he's draped in the fur of 32 dead premature and lab tested Koala bears doesn't disturb me at all. It's the 4 children that are with him rocking some regular ass gear that I find a little off. I couldn't figure out why in 58 degree weather would a "father" take his children to the movies wearing some discount ass fur. Nor could I figure out why he looked like Sunday night at Studio 64 and they looked like the commercial of CitiTrends.

So, of course, I stand in line and try to guess how this came about and this is what I came up with. Follow me through my demented story time... We'll call the man Furly Earl. Why? Besides the obvious, I think the name Earl is funny and it just so happens that every mufugga I know named Earl aint shit so... yeah, Furly Earl.

Furly Earl has 4 or 5 children. Baby mama wasn't working or was working and could only claim 3 of the children to get the earned and child tax credits so she decided to let Furly claim one of the children. Furly goes to the nearest makeshift, get a refund in 8 hours, subway shop of a tax preparer in an area that only the border-hoppers dwell in with little Earls social security number written on the back of a cigarette carton.

A half mexican-half Jamaican man named Junebug Santino prepares Furly Earl's taxes and tells him that with his child as a tax exemption, he can get back over $5000.00. Ecstatic, Furly Earl jumps up and does the homeboy boogie and tells Junebug to take the 700.00 fee for the rapid refund and he'll wait the 8 hours for the return.

Furly's stomach is in knots as he's waiting for his tax loan. He's pondering what he's going to do with all of the money. Pay bills? Get rims? Buy back Little Earls 360 from the pawn shop? He doesn't know.

He's taking back every time he wished that he would've pulled out of his baby mama. After all, if it wasn't for him basting her fertile turkey with his super sperm, there would'nt be a big refund like this! After the wait, Junebug comes out and tells Earl that his refund is going to be 5000 and asks if he would like his refund back in cash or on a pre-paid debit card. Furly tells him "Gimme my shit in cash nucca. Few 100's; mostly 20's. I wanna take pictures for my Facebook page".

As Furly leaves the subway shop/tax preparer, he passes by a man leaning against a hot dog cart. The guy is dressed like Sweet Daddy Williams from Good Times and he's chewing on a toothpick.

"Ay main man! Whats up with those rags?" asks Sweet Daddy

"I don't know. What you mean?" responds Furly Earl

"Nigga, you dressed like you didn't just cash a fat check. That's what I mean. Come on over to my store and I'll give you a good price on some shit like mine" says Sweet Daddy pointing to his colorful furn and matching leisure suit fresh from a 70's blaxploitation movie.

"Where's your store?" questions Furly.

The ex-pimp walks to the hot dog cart and pulls out a long grey fur coat and matching hat.

Furly grabs it and asks "How much?"

"How much you got?".

Furly pulls out his envelope and says "5,000".

Pimp says "Well, I normally sell them for 5500.00 but I can give it to you for 4900".

Furly never refused a good deal so he hands the man all of his money minus the 100.00 that was left and strolls off with the rat fur. He's holding his last 100.00 bill and feeling bad about not paying off his Rent-A-Center leather sofa or paying back his past due rent. His children are going to be disappointed because Furly Earl promised to buy them all a pair of sneakers.

He walks through the front door holding his fur and his children run up and ask "Daddy are we going to the mall to get our sneakers?"

"Nooooo.... we're not going to the mall to shop buuuuttttt we are going to the mall to see Alice in Wonderland!" says Furly Earl as he looks in the faces of the children that he created. "isn't that exciting?" asks Furly Earl.

The little one puffs out his chest and says "Man, you still aint shit!".

And then Agent asked me something that stopped my daydreaming.

Moral of the story: None... I just hate tax time and dumb ass people.

ETA: Pubes, Poop, Pu$$y and other things that dont begin with P

2010-03-02T08:17:00.000-08:00

I've been reading a lot of male-ran blogs lately (shout out to Rock, NC17 , YEBM and Nightfall) and their commentary regarding women have given me a lot of insight on what the opposite sex feels about women. From Rock's phobia of "portly" black women to YEBM's bitter feelings about women and Valentines Day*, I have discovered that men have totally different perspectives from us.

So, I have a few questions for men and I want to know the opinions of my female readers.

Question #1

Amber Rose or Reggie Bush?:

The rest of this post was moved to ALL THE SHIT I WANT PRIVATE blog

Part 2: My love for Midgets Was Tested

2010-02-24T07:28:00.000-08:00

It was a cold and breezy night... still snow on the ground but i was dying for some shrimp and broccoli from the neighborhood china joint. Almost feigning for the greasy concoction of 2 week old broccoli and Inner Harbor shrimp, I almost forgot that I had to pee and ran into Lucky Express but what happened next changed my entire view of the people that I adored the most... midgets.

I walk to the order counter and ask for an L7 extra spicy. Doing the i-gotta-pee-hurry-the-fuck-up dance, I heard the bell used to alert when someone is entering go off. My already weak bladder was about to explode, I was hungry and didn't even bother to turn around. Feel free to revoke my Black Card for not following the #1 Black Rule for Safety: Never turn your back to the entrance of any establishment.

I receive my change and put it in my pocket and the next thing I know I'm verbally attacked by the human version of the Honey Combs monster.

A ga' damn midget wearing a leather Packers jacket, a Coors beer t-shirt, and his baggy jeans tucked in his wee lil' snow boots ran up on me and screamed "I WANNA GET ME SOME FOOD!". Had my bladder been a little weaker, I would've pissed myself. Frozen, I stood there looking at the wee-man and couldn't say one word.

He yelled again, "Chicken wings! I want chicken wings!". I nervously replied "OK" and backed up away from the hybrid of a person that was now so close that I could smell his breath and see his tartar encrusted tongue.

He ordered 4 wings and french fries and the Asian woman asked for $5.05. He handed her ONE dollar and screamed something that I was sure was some ancient version of Pig Latin. The lady at the counter took the dollar bill with confusion and fear etched all over her face. She wanted her 4.05 but she knew not to fuck with a midget with a bad attitude.

I walked out of the store and tried to take a picture of this angry mythical humanette. I get his picture as he's walking out of the store and I'm thinking "Fuck! He's going to kick my ass and I'm going to end up peeing on myself in this crowded ass shopping center". I lean closer to the glass window and, thankfully, he walks in the opposite direction of me. After breathing a sigh of relief, I run into the store and wait anxiously for my food secretly hoping that the angry dwarf wouldn't come back to harass me anymore.

For the last 19 years, i have been fascinated by little people and here I am getting harassed by a little person. I support midgets and what do I get in return? Being yelled at in Latin by a dwarf with halitosis? Everything I believed in for almost 2 decades was diminished by this one 3 minute encounter. I used to get a warm feeling at the thought of little people. Now, I just sit there clutching my pretend Glock with my trigger happy finger ready to blast one of em like a midget version game of Duck Hunt. It may sound mean but I was viciously attacked my a fucking midget! Well- maybe not attacked and maybe not viciously but you know what I mean. I felt like someone told me there was no Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus or Easter Rabbit.

I don't know how I feel about "them" anymore. I'm still getting over this traumatizing event.

My Love for Midgets Was Tested- Part 1

2010-02-19T06:39:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: Please note that I am not trying to offend anyone and this is merely my point of view and my feelings. If you're a little person, I'm sorry but... Im not. Uhm, I am in no way trying to be hurtful... but this is my blog. Read on...

If you're a friend, family member, frequent reader of this blog or if you've ever met me, you should already know that I have a fascination almost borderline obsession with little people.

Before you either laugh and think I'm bullshitting you or give me the side eye and call me an ignorant bitch, please note that I have always kept it 100 with all of you and I am very aware that this is a bit strange and I know Im a bitch.

I digress-

Last night, my love for midgets was tested and it made me question what everyone else has asked for years-"What's up with you and midgets?".

I went back to my childhood... and a very vivid memory was resurrected. I was about 5 or so and I was watching a dubbed-version of I'm Gonna Get You Sucka. Of course, I was supposed to be fast asleep with my little brother laying next to me but I couldn't help but be drawn into this movie with a lot of cussing, that dude from In Living Color, and a bald head woman with missing limbs named Cherry.

After sneakily watching the movie with my mother who didn't know I was awake came a scene that changed my damn life. More than halfway through the movie, Jack Spade, John Slade, Kung Fu Joe, Slammer and Hammer all attempt to take down Mr. Big by fucking up one of his spots "The Big Hat Club". Following me? Good.

So, they're surrounding all these gangster dudes with big hats on and from one of the hat emerges a hand holding a gun. These mufuckas had midgets hiding in these big ass pimp hats and holding guns. So out comes this little dude, Wayne Evans, that used to kick Jack's ass in grade school and they start scrapping. It was the funniest shit I have ever seen in my life. Here I am 5 or 6 years old... half way asleep, watching a movie with a miniature human and I'm shocked. I was amazed by this pocket-sized version of an adult. This little dude is smaller than me but looks like a grown ass man. I had never seen anything like it before and from that moment on I was in love with all people miniature.

After that came the infatuation with Troll dolls which may or not be related to my love for midgets but... it could. Then there were those damn Leprechaun movies that I just had to watch no mater how lame they were. If a movie had a midget or little person, I was glued to the tube.

I watch midget wrestling- midget bowling- midget porn ... all things miniature. Sounding like Confessions of a midgetholic?

I'm weird like that but it's OK. I'm a happy person and little people make me happy. I have a picture of midgets playing basketball on the wall in my office; it keeps me from going crazy. I've watched Bad Santa a trillion times just to see my favorite little actor Tony Cox (uhm, i didnt know his name until I decided to write this post- Fail for me).

I wish I had a little friend that can walk around the mall with me and I'd introduce her as "My Midget" and she'd call me "My Bigget". She'd be a Goon with a doo-rag and gold teeth like Midget Mac and she'd rap. If they weren't real people that required care and special attention like puppies and human trafficking weren't illegal, I'd probably rent me a midget. Just to hang out and do shit with.

I have a distant cousin who's a little person but I don't fuck with her. She's a little bitch with a short fuse <---- get it. *crickets* Seriously, Shortie- as she is affectionately called- got a mean chip on her shoulder. Real diva with a stank ass attitude and i promise if I ever saw her again, I'd glue her fingers together or hide all of her "Grabbers".

Sooooo this post has gone a little off track and has become super long so I'll end it now and promise to follow up with a Part 2 for those that didn't get offended and un-followed me. Fuck it, this is real life.

End of Days: Bootleg Lacefronts

2010-02-16T07:17:00.000-08:00

I'm walk into a beauty supply store to get some 1.00 lip gloss and Oil Sheen (don't judge me) and out the corner of my eye, I see a Samurai Ninja with a Geisha girl lacefront out the corner of my eye. Startled, I drop the lip gloss and back up into the shelf of oil sheen and black hair products while the geisha sashays past me wearing Apple Bottom jeans tucked in her platform snow boots.

You see a lot of strange shit in Baltimore but never have I seen an urban geisha in the middle of the hood. No, it wasn't the fact that she had on pants that instantly gave her a camel toe/ninja foot or even her black lip liner and Vaseline covered lips... it was the atrocious lace front covering her head that sent me into lace front shock.

Interrupting Khaki's rant for a MedicalMinute brought to you by Chan's Jamaican & Soul Food:

Medical Minute: Lacefront Shock occurs when a subject comes into contact with an ill-fitted, round edged, matted or tangled lacefront wig. The effects are normally short term and may include a rapid pulse, sweating, confusion and a serious case of "whatthefuckedness". The wig is usually a low-end, out the pack, 29.99 special and improperly fitted by a "lacefront technician" employed by a Korean beauty supply. There is no cure and no 5k races to end this epidemic. The only way to stop LacefrontShock is to avoid contact with anyone with their edges covered in lace and glue. Avoiding places such as CitiTrends, anywhere with Hair or Beauty in the name (Beauty Land, BeautyPlace, HairStop, etc), and, generally, every club in Baltimore may help as well.

back to regularly scheduled rant.

Let me say... I have nothing against lacefront wigs, "fake hair", human hair etc... I only get annoyed when I see grown ass women with no edges and thick layers of lace and glue stuck to their forehead strutting around like their Tyra Banks. The purpose of the lacefront wig is to give the illusion of a real hairline without having to worry that you look like you're wearing a wig. Unfortunately, the wigs that Beyonce and Naomi Campbell have spent hundreds on and paid to have properly fitted, have been bootlegged and sold for discount prices made affordable to everyone thus creating the- what I call- Geisha Look on everyday people.

I'm almost 100% sure that the creators of the bootleg lacefront are the same people that created bootleg high-heeled sneakers and the knock-off "Channel" (<--- not a typo, I actually saw one at a flea market) bags. With a little investigative work, I'm sure that i can prove this.
So, yeah, I'm just tired of seeing them everywhere. Someone is selling them on Craigslist for MEN and WOMEN! A lacefront for people who want dreads???? While it may have been photoshopped, there was a picture circulating the Internet of a beautiful brown baby rocking a long lacefront! WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO??????

Please, let's work together to educate and stop the awful effects of Lacefrontshock. It takes a village an' shit.

Maaannn.... Im tired of this fucking snow.

2010-02-11T11:17:00.000-08:00

Baltimore is buried under 4+ feet of snow. 4 feet. Basically, the height of a midget with Shape Up's on.

Yeah, that tall. Since Friday afternoon, my poor shitty lil city has been covered with snow that we havent seen since the Blizzard of 96. The things that Baltimore is known for are covered in snow. Rats look like little mobile snowballs running in the alleys. The junkies are frozen in the "feign lean".

I cant fucking take it. Im going crazy and Im two seconds from needing a 72-hour hold.

:let me gather myself:

I hate Snow and I fucking hate Shape-Ups. <---- Random? Yes but I am going fucking nuts.

Im spending Valentines Day

2010-02-09T09:34:00.001-08:00

either with my kid watching Good Times or by my lonesome watching Good Times.

I just dont get it...*sigh*

What are you guys doing?

Not Black Enough?

2010-02-04T08:59:00.001-08:00

Long before American Express came up with the concept to give the rich another way to spend their millions, another Black Card existed. The Black Card. The card that validates your blackness. A card with high fees, low interest, extensive requirements and a lifetime contract without an option to trade or cancel.

Right next to an expired Macy's credit card and a business card for stripper lessons lies my laminated invisible Black Card. I'm a proud carrier but only by default because I've been told I'm not black enough. Not because I'm the shade of... hmmm a pair of khakis... but because I'm not Angela Davis or Malcolm X. Apparently, I do not exhibit the true strengths of an African American. I've been told that only a real Black woman would rock her hair natural with no perm or extensions. I can't be Black because I love me some 18 inch yaki's and I'm easily annoyed when my Mizani perm grows out and I see my naturally curly hair growing from my roots.

Stereotypes about my culture that I despise have somehow become requirements to be considered Black. The same racist stereotypes that "my people" hate to hear another race say are the same stereotypes that "my people" have embraced and hold as a system to rate ones blackness. Hypocrisy much?

Apparently, I haven't earned my blackness because I wasn't raised in the projects and I didn't go through the struggle that most of the Black community has went through. Here I am thinking that being Black was my first birthday gift and, apparently, it's something that you earn through passing some sort of Black Test. Had I known that my blackness would've been tested, I would've prepared better and studied. Had I known that my treasured Black Card was going to be revoked because I flunked the test and didnt pay my dues, I probably would've watched Roots a little earlier in my lifetime. I want to be a Certified Negro but I don't know the criteria and nobody told me this was going to be a Pop Quiz.

I love being a Black woman and I love my golden skin. It contains my culture, beliefs, morals, and the African blood running through my veins. My skin doesn't and shouldn't dictate what I should like, who I should like and what I should be in life. I don't have to explain my blackness to anyone. You can see in my face that I am a distant relative of a king. I don't have to wear "urban" clothing or know every rap song to be Black. I will listen to any fair skinned person I want to. I voted for Barack because he made sense not because he's half Black. BET sucks ass. I support interracial dating. I cant stand grape or orange soda. The Cosby show annoyed me at times but I love JJ, Florida, Thelma an' nem. Shit, I even say "an'nem" too.

How can I make myself more Black so I can keep my card? Can you be too Black? What is enough?

Confessional Monday... Quickie

2010-02-01T13:53:00.000-08:00

I cheated on all but one my ex's... i dont really feel bad about it... none of the men I cheated on them with were worth it... Never got caught and when I was close to being caught I reversed pyscho'd the shit out of the situation.

Fellas--- You're not the only ones... ;)

Let me also add that I'm a changed woman now and my cheating days are long behind me. Well, not that long.

I want one of these next year!

2010-01-25T12:08:00.000-08:00

The new and highly anticipated line of life sized Barbies are now here! Collect all of them and then you can be a 5 Star Bitch too!

Precious Minaj Barbie

With hot pink soft waves, thick sports bra strap, matching purple tank and jew'ry, this Barbie is what every plus-sized woman aspires to be... PROUD. The "Bitch, please", look on her face exudes confidence and that's just what Barbie's stand for.

Accessories included: plastic bead necklace, beaded bracelet, matching pearl earrings and multi-colored leggings (not pictured). Buy this now and score Monique's new movie "Mama, I don't wanna shave my legs!"

Let's Go Night-Night Minaj Barbie: Poke her belly and she'll scream "Ask Lil Wayne who the 5 star bitch is!!!!". Every man's dream, this Barbie comes with all you see here included the split tank and camel toe leggings.

Optional accessories: Vagisil, Monistat cream, Summer's Eve Douche and dental dam

No Thanx Spanx Barbie: This pleasantly plump and pretty in the face Barbie is sure to be on every one's Christmas list.

*Extra curves included.

Thug Life Barbie: For the rough-neck in you, enjoy the Thug Life Barbie. With a pack of Newport's, boxed beer and beauty supply store jewelry, this charming beauty can be all yours but be sure to not tick her off as she has a built in shank.

Optional accessories: Bamboo earrings, razor blade and Vaseline. For a low fee, we will throw in Barbie's Dream Crack House- complete with weed butts, malt liquor, crack pipes and 3 crack heads.

Club Hopping Barbie with Rick Ross Ken Doll: This ghetto-fabulous duo is the perfect addition to any collection. Rick Ross Ken Doll's chest magically produces sweat when you poke his stomach. Both dolls come with Gucchay shades and glue for the detachable lace front beard and wig.

Accessories included: Durex condoms, Hennessy pint and bonding glue.

LIMITED EDITION What's the tea? Minaj Barbie with Scratch N Sniff fingers: This lovely doll comes with the signature bright pink and 1B wig and if you pull it's finger, it'll say "come off the top as bestest, bitches". Scratch N Sniff his fingers for a special surprise and added bonus.

Lip gloss and removable mustache also included.

Warning: We can not be held responsible for what happens after you smell it's fingers

Yall know I don't have no sense.

How can you laugh at death?

2010-01-25T09:15:00.002-08:00

Dear the-south-shall-rise-again-uber republican-white supremacist racist asshole,

Since when is it ever OK to mock or criticize someone for helping 111,000 + victims of a natural disaster? How could you look at a child trapped under cement and only see the color of dirt? How could someone that lives in a nation under one God look at over 100,000 of his children's bodies and not feel one ounce of sympathy or hurt? Does having a social security number and being Caucasian equal "better"?

These are questions that I ask myself to figure out how a human being can look at another human being covered in blood with broken bones and only see "black" and "immigrant". You, sir, are one of the many reasons why God cries.

I used to think that your kind only existed in the deep south where they still had Klan meetings and almost every white man with a thjick southern accent had a Confederate flag on his porch, pickup truck and trucker hat but there you are... sitting behind your big desk in your Brooks Brother suit and wing-tipped shoes... coaching the soccer team... or opening the door for me at Starbucks in the heart of Baltimore City. Sadly, it took for a major devastation in a primarily black country for you to take off the suit and put that hood on.

While I am sad to see that people like you still exist, I am happy to say that for every one of you there are many people that see the elderly woman's foot stuck under what used to be a community center. There are people that will stand up for the citizens of Haiti. There are people that will adopt the Haiti children that lost their family in the earthquake. There are people- your everyday red-blooded American citizens- that will look beyond color and see death and devastation. Shit, even the repressed racist and former President George W took a stand and raised money for the people of Haiti while you sat under your invisible hoods, holding your make believe noose and laughed.

Over 60 million dollars have been raised for the citizens of Haiti while you laughed. Over 100 citizens have been dug out from the rubble while you spent what could've been relief money on your 5.00 coffee this morning. Your negativity has not diminished the positivity and for that I thank God.

Sincerely,

His child and your sister... Khaki

Confessional Monday... LOL--- Told you I was gonna do it ;)

2010-01-25T06:15:00.000-08:00

Seems like these are all I'm blogging about lately.

Anyway... this confession came about while I was driving on a road trip with two fellow bloggers on Saturday. I never intended to say anything because it wasn't that serious and this was just a random ass thought.

The rest of this blog was moved to ALL THE SHIT I WANT PRIVATE blog.

Confessional Monday on Friday

2010-01-22T11:40:00.000-08:00

So... no bullshit... I keep saying Im going to blog and, to be quite honest, I really have meant to. I have shit on my mind but things just keep coming up. My homie/sister/co-worker was laid off of my job so I'm the only one in my office now and work has to be done... thus, causing the lack of blogs since I cant sit here and bullshit all day.

Anyway... here's a quick one.

I loved Michael Jackson as a kid. I wanted to dance like him... kinda looked like him (don't judge me), wanted to dress like him (continue the non-judging). MJ was the fucking King in my book. Anyway, one day me and my little brother was watching the old Moonwalker movie on VHS and I decided that I wanted to lean like dude in the Smooth Criminal video

So, I convince my little brother to safety pin his robe belt to my tank top and hold me while i leaned. We gather some safety pins and he takes his blue robe belt and attaches it to my tank top. The video is on... we're watching it... enjoying it... and waiting for the part.

Dance sequence comes on... I'm into it and he grabs the robe to help me lean and... wait for it... I'm leaning... wait for it... I'm leaning a little more... wait for it....

*Boom* I fall into the fucking coffee table and crack my damn head. My brother busts out in laughter while I'm rolling on the floor saying "that's not what was supposed to happen" and crying like a little Bi-Atch.

My mother came home and asked what happened and we both lied and said I fell off my bike. We weren't supposed to be in the living room watching Moonwalker and we had meddled in her sewing drawer which was off-limits so we had no choice. Whats even worse is that I had to walk around school with this big ass homemade bandage to cover up my bruised and gashed forehead.

Moral of the story: You aint Michael Jackson and gravity is real.

True shit.

P.S not all of my confessions revolve around me dancing or embarrassing myself... but a lot of them do. ;)

Confessional Monday

2010-01-11T14:07:00.001-08:00

I was about 13 years old and was spending the entire summer with my cousin Dee. We were watching music videos and Hot Boyz "I need a Hot Girl"video came on with all the girls booty shaking and washing cars an' shit. Anyway, I went upstairs to get something out of her room and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and without thinking starting booty dancing in the mirror. You know the booty dance, right? Hand on knees and popping booty. So, I'm hiking up my shorts and dropping it likes its hot like I'm one of the girls in the video when i hear a familiar voice say while laughing"What the hell are you doing... looking hoochie as hell. Girl, Imma tell your mother". Then he called his girlfriend (my cousin/Dee's mom) and my aunt into the room to tell them about my impromptu performance.

My cousin's step dad was in the room laying down under the covers the WHOLE TIME and I hadn't even noticed that he was in there. It looked like a pile of clothes or blankets jumbled on the bed so I didn't pay it any attention. Needless to say, I was soooooo embarrassed that I just went downstairs and tried to avoid him for weeks. Of course, being the obnoxious asshole that he is, he made sure to make fun of me for the rest of the summer and tell all the neighborhood boys that came by to visit that i liked to dance. Did I mention that I hate him?

I don't think I ever told anyone that... *hangs head in shame*

True Shit.

Yup, you're a terrible fucker!

2010-01-11T09:29:00.001-08:00

I'm sitting here and wondering... how do you know when you're a bad fucker? Are there people walking around thinking that they put it down or give the best head when, in fact, they are actually terrible in the bedroom? I'm thinking that people either (A) don't know because no one ever told them or (B) they're selfish bastards that know and only care about getting their nut.

For those that don't know... here are some clues to help you out.

I have to pee: If after having sex, she gets up and says that she has to go to the bathroom and comes back fully clothed, your sex is wack. She doesn't have to pee and more than likely she's laughing at you, calling the next dude or turning on the Rabbit to finish what you started.

Human Blow-up Doll: If you just lay there, stiff as a board looking like a damn corpse while he does all the work, your sex is wack. No man wants to fuck a stationary woman that makes no sound or even blinks. Dating and courting a woman that just lays there isn't cost efficient at all. After spending money on movies, flowers, gifts, dinner and all that other shit women want, wouldn't it be fair to say that a man has earned some good pussy? Dinner and movie = 150.00... Blow up doll= 50.00. I'm just saying.

No entry: If you only get called over for oral, your sex is bad. Most women want both so she only wants head from you, more than likely, your dick game wack. Giving good head is not enough and the most that it will do is land you in the pile of "folks i call when i want nothing but head". Those people getting called very rarely.

Two Pump Chump: If you put it in and then bust after 3 1/2 pumps, you're a terrible fucker. No woman wants a man that cant last long enough to make them cum. Women hate to waste pussy juice. Pussy juice is just as valuable as... money. Shit, coochie fluid is so damn valuable that companies make millions of dollars just off of replications. I've even thought about bottling some of this up in a juice container and marketing it as Vaggiejuice- the real V-8 splash. I digress-women understand the value of their juice, so if you waste it and their time, you will not be called back for a second chance.

In, Out, Suck, Bust: Boring ass sex routines will give you the reputation of being a terrible fucker. Women that hop on the dick but ride with no rhythm, barely moves, and does the same up and down motion aren't using their vagina to the best of their ability which in most states is a punishable crime*. Men that have the same stroke or the routine of feel, eat, pump, bust will laughed at by women. People like variety and spontaneity especially with sex. Switching up the routine or adding elements to heighten the experience will, almost always, make you a good fucker.

Who needs an Ambien, when you've got dick: I cant remember but... It was either a wise man or an old Chinese proverb that stated "if she doesn't roll over and go to sleep, you got more fucking to do". Whoever said it, it's true. If after we're done, I get up and start drawing on the etch-A-Sketch or watching old episodes of Law and Order, i have not been sexually fulfilled and your sex was bad. I always know when it's good if im snoring almost immediately after we're done. Not that light snore either... that "what the fuck kinda noise is that" snore and if he can sleep through my snore after we're done, I know that I've done my part too.

Laughter: If her friends don't respect you or laugh when you walk away, they're talking about you and, more often than not, it's about you in the bedroom.

One day you may be told that you're bullshit in bed and it will hurt your heart and soul. No one wants to be bad in bed. No one wants to end up on girldontfuckhim.com but you must accept it, take responsibility and try to get better. Watch flicks... take a class... read a book- just do SOMETHING. Being in denial, calling him/her a bitch and saying it's because they're mad because of blah, blah, blah isn't going to solve anything. Trust me, they aren't saying it just because they're mad, they're telling you because it's true. They've just been holding it in their back pocket for the prime opportunity to hurt your pride.

If you really want to know if your sex is horrible and you don't think any of the above items apply to you, try this test... pick a fight with your girlfriend. Make her as mad as you can. If she says some shit like "man fuck you and that little ass dick with your cant get it up always gotta beat off cuz you nutted too fast ass!", you cant fuck. If you piss her off, go in to have make up sex and she opens up... well, you figure it out.

Happy Belated Birthday!!!!!!!!!

2010-01-07T06:43:00.001-08:00

NABCAS turned 1 on th 5th and I completely forgot. Guess I did abandon my blog. LOL

Here's to another year of shit talkin, random thoughts, rans, ramblings, trollopification, sex talking, and blogging.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-25T13:06:00.000-08:00

and Happy Holidays to all of you out there in blogland.

having a wonderful christmas with the fam...bout to kill some oxtails, cabbage, jerk and curry chicken *slurp* (not not Jamaican- my fam is just extra when it comes to themes n shit)

enjoy the rest of your day!

My Christmas List....

2009-12-23T10:53:00.000-08:00

Folks keep asking me what I want and I keep telling them "I dont know". What's funny is that I told myself that anyone who told me they didnt knw what they wanted would get a t-shirt that said "I didnt know what I wanted for Christmas so I ended up with this shirt". Anyway... my Christmas list for any of you that want to show me how much you love with me with materialistic shit. You till got 2 days so get to it!

DVD's: someone either beat me for my DVD's or I lost them either way, I need some movies. I need all the House Party movies, Player's Club, Women of Brewster Place, What's Love Got to Do With It.... old school shit. Sparkle, 5 Heartbeats, the Wiz.

Flat Iron: need to keep the edges silky straight.

Mp3 player: I need a new one like ASAP. Not into Ipod and all that touch screen shit but i'd re-gift one of those cheapy free ones. LOL just being honest

Handbag: I love a nice handbag. Betsey Johnson and Michael Kors are probably my fav bag designers.

Makeup: I have a strong addiction to makeup... it's so sad but oh so damn true. Ulta or Sephora gift card would do

Big, reliable... uhm yeah: Preferably a Capricorn ;)

I dont know what else I want but Im sure that the more I shop for other folks, this list will grow.

So, what yall want? Im in the buying mood for the next 11minutes!

The Big Piece of Chicken

2009-12-23T05:55:00.000-08:00

I love that I'm almost 100% independent. I say almost because there are just some things that I need a man for. :ahem: I love that if I want something, I can pull out a credit card, cash or wait til next pay to get it without worrying about it. However, even though I enjoy my independence, I also want to feel like a woman.

I lived in a household where my father would not let his wife's hands get dirty. If something was needed late night, he would get it because he didn't want his wife out that late at night. He rarely argued with my mother but he knew when to put his foot down. In return, he was always promised the big piece of chicken at dinner and no one dared to eat that man's big piece of chicken.

What my parents had that a lot of people don't have now was the definition of man and woman. It seems that the modern woman got so caught up in what they didnt need a man for that they forgot that sometimes it takes a meaningful relationship to feel complete. While both of my parents worked and my mother was quite independent financially, she still knew how to let my father be the man of the house. My father knew that he couldn't win an argument with my mom and we all knew when he lost because the next day a bouquet of flowers would be on the mantle. If mom was wrong, which was very rare, there would be a huge slice of German Chocolate cake sitting next to his dinner plate.

I've determined that I want to be both independent and have a man to do those gentlemanly things for me. I want someone to make me feel like I do not have a care in the world. I want someone to open my doors. I don't mind paying for dinner but I don't want to drive both of us to the restaurant. I don't mind bringing home the chicken and frying it up but I want him to take the bags out the car for me.

Damn, is that too much to ask?

Dawn, Hot Water, No Plunger?!?!?!?!?

2009-12-14T09:28:00.000-08:00

Fun fact of the day: DID YOU KNOW...that if you are :ahem: constipated... and end up having to take something like... :ahem:... Milk of Magnesia... that a few hours later... you may end up in your friends bathroom... saying a silent prayer while everything in your digestive track suddenly gushes out of you and splashes in the toilet causing a ricocheting effect... and finally a clogged toilet... that dishwashing liquid such as Dawn and a pot of almost boiled water will unclog the drain?

Well, its true and I'm not telling how I know. Just know that the Google feature on the G1 is very informative and a damn savior at 2AM.

I'm a Hater?

2009-12-10T06:10:00.000-08:00

Let me get this right... so, if I don't like who/what/where you like or the majority of America likes... I'm a hater? Oh, that's how it works?

Sounds dumb, right? Well, to some, that's how it goes. I dont make the rules; I break them.

I am a very opinionated and strong minded woman. I tend to not like what everyone else likes. I don't do trends. I seem drawn to the underdog. Never been a STAN. I cant name one person, place, or thing that I admire or love so much that I would go hysterical to defend or call someone a hater if they didn't agree with me. I respect all opinions even if I don't agree with them. Even if I don't like something or agree with you, i will always call an apple an apple. So, again, how am I a hater?

My Nicki Minaj post??? You read all of that and instantly thought I was hating???? Oh, well excuse the fuck out of me for questioning her image change and questioning the cleverness of it(just in case you missed it- Ingenious is a good thing). What the fuck was I thinking- having my own theories and opinions 'n shit?

From the streets, to converstations with friends, to Twitter, and to the blog world the words "hate" and "hater" have become so overused and cliche'd that, in most cases, the person accused of hating isn't even hating but merely disagreeing. Disagreeing does not = Hating.

Let's try to define "hater"... help me out because I can be- and have been from time to time- wrong.
An envious or jealous person (I cant stand that bitch because she has what I have- HATING)

A person that goes out of their way to shed negativity against a person, place, thing for no apparent reason (Fuck Wale! He only sold 100,000 copies= HATING)

A person that attempts to destroy you just to make themselves feel better (Watch I slash the tires on that bitch's car just because Im on the bus= HATING)

A person that dislikes something for no reason at all (I dont like Beyonce because I dont like her= HATING)

A person that will try to make you feel unhappy about something that brings them joy (Friend: I just bought these shoes. Hater: They aight but I wouldnt wear no shit like that = HATING)

Someone that will make up lies about a person just because they dont like them (She got herpes because she fucked his homeboy= HATING)

Yes, there are haters. Yes, there are people that thrive off of negativity and dwell on bullshit. Yes, there are people that will confuse their jealousy with dislike. Not everyone that refuses to buy a Beyonce album are haters. Not all people will think that Nicki Minaj is the hottest female rapper ever. Not all people will spend 200 on True Religion jeans. Everyone will not always agree. That doesnt make them haters either.

People that can not seem to allow folks to have their own opinions without using the word "hater" sound like overly obsessed fans to me- or Stans- if you will. Those people can't fathom hearing someone say "I cant get with Lil Wayne". Those people will flip out on social networking sites saying stupid shit like "Yall just mad cuz yall aint getting money like _________". They get thier blood pressure all high just to tell someone that they are hating on so and so. They like something or someone sooo much that they have no other defense besides "you hating". To those people it could only be "hate". To those people, I say : Get a new hobby because the one you have of sack chasing is geting old.

If needed, I can provide a very detailed list via email of all the things that I am but hater will not be one of them.

Rant over.

EDIT: Hoodrat Barbie Doll = Ingenious Marketing?

2009-12-08T07:40:00.000-08:00

Edit: 12/10.. this is the original post that I drafted but didn't post due to it being so long. Once I saw that my blog was being perceived differently than what I intended, I decided to just include the original blog. PS- Stacie Ann, I think I cleaned it up a little. What you think? ;)

Nicki Minaj... *sigh*

Internet and radio stations have been buzzing about a new female rapper from NY making a name for herself with Young Money. Nicki Minaj- known for calling herself a Barbie doll and emulating Lil Kim's infamous crotch exposed pose- can be heard on a few radio hits such as Five Star Chick and I Get Crazy. I've heard a few of her mixtape singles and I've been reading a lot about her lately but, in all honesty, I'm not feeling it or her. The beat is dope on I Get Crazy but pair that with her high-pitched cartoon-esque voice that would even make a child nauseous and there is little left to be desired.

Lyrically, I'm not impressed. Take away the beat and really listen to the words, you are almost instantly dumbed down and may be missing a few brain cells from her excessive use of remedial analogies. Still I Rise from one of her last mixtapes goes in on everyone that makes assumptions about her race and sexual orientation and compares her to Lil Kim yet, ironically, reminds me of the Lil Kim's Shut Up off of The Naked Truth album. As a matter of fact, a lot of the things she does remind me of Lil Kim (black Lil Kim and light Lil Kim) but this isn't about jacking swag, talent (or lack thereof), or music of Nicki Minaj but of the image that she is now presenting to mainstream audiences.

Nicki started out the epitome of what a lot of young urban girls in New York are. She had that "bout to go get a lollipop and 25cent juice from the bodega" look when she was grinding to get signed. Slowly but surely, she mutated herself into what Lil Kim was attempting to be with the extreme makeovers and, while it's actually working out for Nicki, I'm not sure if it's for the best. Most shunned Lil Kim when she went from her wide-nosed, dark hair, thick in the hips image to a blond-weaved, blue eyed, lighter version of her old self. With Nicki Minaj, women and young girls alike are actually embracing her new image. You see grown ass women walking around with blue and pink hair and bright ass eyeshadow calling themselves Barbies and 5 star chicks because Minaj is doing it. I cant even count how many times I have heard some hoodrat chick say "I just had an epiphany... I need to go to Tiffany's". Sad but true.

I see pictures of the old Minaj and the new one and I question "Who is the real Nicki?". Was this Nicki created to be marketed towards younger girls or was this a poor attempt to establish female presence in the rap game? Will calling yourself a Barbie, being sexually explicit and rocking leather corsets really make me want to listen to you? Nope- but, unfortunately, to some misguided little girl that could be the case and that's just sad.

Nicki started out with the imagery that a lot of young girls that aspire to be rappers could actually look up to. While her lyrics were still a bit raunchy and inappropriate for the younger generation, they were at least good enough to get her a record deal. So, why change? Is it ever okay to make your fans think that you can not compete in a male dominated industry unless you give crotch shots, call yourself a Barbie, and auto tune yourself out to the point that you to sound like a trannified version of Lil Wayne? At one time, Nicki represented female empowerment in a world that only men were allowed into. Now, with the help of Lil Wayne and Young Money, she has morphed into the classic and overly sexual "hoodrat" bitch amongst a group of male rappers. When I look at her, I don't see an original rapper. I see a clusterfuck of female stereotypes that were started a long time ago when "No Time" came out.

Sorry, Nicki, we don't need another Lil Kim or Foxy. We don't need another female rapper exposing young girls to the fantasy bullshit of Barbies with blond wigs and surgically enhanced asses. Yes, you got your record deal and people are now talking. Your new image- while a cheap imitation of what we've seen for years- is ingenious. You took something that has been done before and got folks to see you as an "original". However, how much was it worth? The female empowerment and legacy that the original female rappers Roxanne Shante, Queen Latifah, Salt N Pepa, Mc Lyte worked so hard for? Ok, I guess.

To be fair, I'll let her come out with an album before I dedicate a "Why are you breathing?" post to her.(shout out to Don for resurrecting that post)

So.... Cheating isnt Cheating Unless You're Married?

2009-12-08T06:26:00.001-08:00

Damn, and all this time I thought that what I was doing was wrong. Go figure.

I've heard people say the above statement before and, apparently, there are quite a few people that actually believe in it. I don't.

I have cheated and I have been cheated on and in both cases the person that cheated was wrong even though there was no marriage license involved.

When a couple sits down and decides to maintain a monogamous relationship, it is not fair for one of them to not keep up with the end of the agreement. Most relationships are made with the expectation that neither party will go outside of the relationship for mental, sexual, physical or emotional stimulation. A relationship should be built on trust, loyalty and communication. If someone feels that they have to go to an outside source because there is something in the relationship that is lacking, then that person should end the relationship. Staying in a relationship with someone that believes you are being faithful and you aren't is not only unfair but it's very deceiving.

People that believe that they can stop cheating once they get married are lying to themselves. The same reason that caused you to cheat will still be there when you take your vows and sign the papers therefore marriage will not make you stop cheating.

So, do you think that cheating isn't really cheating unless you are married?

Shit...

2009-12-07T08:12:00.000-08:00

Didnt realize I havent written in like 12 days. Thats not even me. I had shit I wanted to talk about but when I logged on, I lost the motivation. *sigh*

Let's try this again.

Happy Turkey Day

2009-11-25T12:30:00.001-08:00

Just wanted to wish all of you a Happy Thanksgiving!

I may or may not blog ;)

The Day My Christmas Spirit Died....

2009-11-25T07:27:00.000-08:00

Let me just start by saying I love all things Christmas... the decorations, the cheerfulness, the shopping, my son's face when he opens presents, and most of all the Christmas music (don't front like y'all don't sing "This Christmas"). However, Christmas hasn't been the same for me since Christmas of 2002.

Christmas was considered a big event in my house growing up. My mom was a T.V mom. She decorated the whole house with green garland and lights, cooked a big dinner and always bought trees bigger than our living room could hold. This particular Christmas was going to be bigger than the previous ones because my dad had received a large settlement and promised us a huge Christmas with a lot of presents.

For weeks, i had done all of the shopping because my parents were busy working late shifts and didn't have time for shopping. At 16, i was taking several buses and traveling to the malls to buy the presents that I knew my siblings and parents would want. After I'd come home, I'd go in my room and wrap the presents up in beautiful paper and ribbon and store them in my closet. There were so many gifts in my room that I couldn't close my closet door and had to hide them under my bed... Playstations, MP3 players, computers, movies, jewelry. You name it, I bought it. I wanted everybody happy when Christmas came.

The rest of this post was moved to ALL THE SHIT I WANT PRIVATE

New Banner!!!

2009-11-21T09:30:00.000-08:00

I LOVE IT!!!!!! Shade over at eighty vii did a wonderful job of making my banner in 9 seconds. Check her out... her blog is dope and her graphic design skills are even better!

Thanks Shade!!!!

New Look...

2009-11-20T08:57:00.000-08:00

So... im looking to do a new look for the blog. Suggestions, advice, help...
thanks!

Dear Darell,

2009-11-19T08:45:00.001-08:00

In response to...

Umm ok. You were not in the car, and no one has said anything about her hitting him, so why would you say that she definitely hit him?Sorry but it makes you sound uneducated to jump to such conclusions. AND even if she DID hit him, does that mean he should f her up the way he did?I swear black women are the worst.

Hi Darell...

Thank you for coming by to NABCAS and saying... nothing. I've made it quite clear that I wasn't in the car and I am expressing my opinion based solely on circumstantial evidence provided by the only two people in the vehicle. Neither you or I was in the car to know what happened that night, however, we are both entitled to have opinions. My OPINION is just that- my opinion. You don't have to like it, agree with or accept it. As a matter of fact, you shouldn't have even let it get you so upset that you had to comment twice on my blog.

Now, lets talk about you Mr. (?) Darell. Why are you mad? Why are you assuming that I'm black? Why are you posing as someone that doesn't read my blog when it's obvious that my update is in your blog timeline or you follow me on Twitter? One thing I can not stand is a person that says I "sound" uneducated because I do not agree with the norm or what media dictates I should agree with. I sound uneducated because I stated that they fought? Excuse me- but did Chris Brown not have marks on his body? Oh, OK. Was that not what was reported in the deposition and police report to mitigate his charges to misdemeanor? Oh, OK.

Furthermore, I am so sorry that you misinterpreted what I said in my blog. To clarify- the point of my post was to show that Rihanna is an opportunist who is taking advantage of the media. Again, I don't think he should've hit her. He was wrong. However, it doesn't make it right for Rihanna to take advantage of America's desire to victimize her. Maybe it's a coincidence? If you don't agree, then so what?

Just saw that you bought my child-rearing in to the conversation.. *sigh* My son knows that it's not OK to hit anybody. He knows to walk away but, unfortunately, if someone hits or abuses him first, the morals that I instilled in him may not outweigh his normal reaction to someone causing bodily damage to him. How about leaving my son out of this? mmmkay? Thanks.

Usually, I would end this with a "suck a dick and be happy" but... never mind, I don't want to sound uneducated. Now, come and give me a hug--- I don't like when people get their blog pressure all up.

P.S. Your comment had many grammatical errors and I'm willing to bet my left tit that you're a black woman... now, that's ironic. *Pelvis thrust*

Fuck Rihanna....

2009-11-19T06:57:00.000-08:00

I've been very quiet about the Chris Brown & Rihanna ordeal for a few reasons but the main reason was because I wasnt in the car and was only hearing one side of the story- Chris Brown's.

It wasn't until Rihanna's 20/20 interview that I really came to my own opinion about the situation: this was not DOMESTIC ABUSE. This was a case of a young couple getting into an argument started by the "victim" that escalated into into a physical altercation. I have witnessed domestic abuse. I have done case studies and mock trials of domestic abuse cases so I see a difference between Ike Turner and Chris Brown.

Chris Brown did not BEAT Rihanna up. They fought each other and he got the best of her. Some would question whether or not it's wrong for a man to hit a woman regardless of who started it or who hit whom first. I would respond that its wrong for anybody in a relationship to put their hands on the other person. If this happened between two women in a relationship would one get be treated like the victim while the other is condemned like Chris Brown? If this happened between two men in a relationship, would anybody care? There's a difference you say? Ok, would a 5 ft 11 300 lb woman fighting her 5 foot 9 150 lb boyfriend be looked at as the same?

I, in no way, shape or form, agree with domestic abuse and I despise men that beat on their girlfriends, wives, or significant other just for the hell of it. No woman should live in fear that when they get home they may lose their life because dinner wasn't ready. No woman should wake up in fear that she may get punched by her significant other.

Fear is what distinguishes Rihanna from the real women that are abused by the men in their lives. Rihanna wasn't being controlled by Chris Brown and she wasn't fearful of him. Had she been afraid of this "monster", she wouldn't have even approached him about the woman that text him. Victims do not confront their abuser.

I've watched that interview a few times and I am disgusted by her. Each time I watch it, I want to slap her a little bit more. The white turtleneck sweater dress, the barely there makeup and colorless hair? That's not the "Disturbia" Rihanna that I know. Where's the barbwire over the titty, 1B haired, pointy red nails and leather bearing Rihanna that the paparazzi catches on a daily basis? Maybe she's hiding under an Umbrella. This whole time Chris Brown has come across as a monster, an abuser and as Ike Turner 2.0 while she's partying and playing the victim role.

Chris Brown was wrong but equally wrong as Rihanna. No one should have been touched in that car. Had the picture of her bruised face not been leaked out from TMZ, I'm sure that they would be happy and sappy in love right now. Rihanna wants to speak out for women that suffer abuse but how can she when she's never been abused? I refuse to allow a young woman that took advantage of the media to be a spokesperson for the millions of women that are abused on a daily basis. She is not a fair representation of the women that are abused, kicked, punched, dragged outside naked, slapped, spat on, burned, raped or living in fear. She is a woman that weighed her options- love or money. She is a woman that knew America would want to paint Chris Brown as an abuser and if she deviated from that plan she too would be chastised and her career would be over. She didn't speak up about domestic abuse to save America's youth; she spoke up because she had an album coming out and millions of dollars on the table that were threatened because she went back to her "abuser".

Everybody is throwing mud on Chris Brown's name and condemning this man who made a mistake. A mistake that could've been avoided had both of the parties been mature enough to handle their relationship. No one is stepping up and holding Rihanna accountable. Ya know- the Rihanna that said "would it matter if I hit him first?". That' s right- she's the victim.