It IS a SMALL world after all....

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!

End of Days: High-heeled Sneakers

They had their run in the early nineties with the canvas chunky heeled, squared toe style and then re-vamped around 2000 in the style of Air Force Ones. Almost ten years later, the high-heeled sneaker has re-emerged in the style of the classic sneaker... the Air Jordan.

I SWEAR on all things good in life that I hate, yes HATE, the high-heeled sneaker. These are the "hoodrats" of footwear and there is nothing cute, sexy, stylish, classy or fashionable about them yet they seem to make their way back to the streets every 10 years or so.

My deep hatred comes from an experience about 10 years ago. It was 1999 and I was beginning my freshman year at Western High School. After years of being a borderline chubby tomboy, wearing baggy khaki's and polo-styled shoes (it was my uniform), the summer after graduating middle school had changed me into this new found hottie with a new body. Ya know how you go on summer vacation as an awkward teen and come back finer than silk?

Anyway, my grandmother was never one to shop or buy anything for us so when she called me and asked what I wanted her to buy me for school, I was happy-yet pessimistic- about requesting a pair of shoes in a size 8 1/2. A week later, I received a package from her that I was sure would be some Reebok classics or flat Mary Jane's that were hot that year (don't front like you didn't wear them with crazy socks). Instead- I pulled out some high-heeled, double strapped, white, soft 'leather-like" sneakers that resembled Air Force Ones. My Uncle K had convinced me to wear them stating that "grandma was really excited about purchasing them for me" and i should wear them to appease her. I listened to my uncle and... well, i wish i hadn't.

I started my first day at Western, an all-girl high school with the most uppity bitches Baltimore had to offer, rocking my jean skirt, jean jacket, white shirt with silver lame roses on it and... them wack ass high heeled, no- name Rainbow sneakers and striped crazy socks. Not gonna lie- I thought I was the shit! You couldn't tell me I wasn't hot shit.

Well, you couldn't but the upper classmen of Western did. All day long I heard snickers and saw the looks as I pranced around the halls in my hoodrat sneakers. It wasn't until I went to the Quad- an outdoor lounge area where Poly and Western would eat lunch- during lunch time that I realized that the looks and snickers wasn't because they thought I was hot; it was because I had made a huge mistake wearing the damn shoes.

Some flamboyant knock-off Uncle K made a statement about my fashion faux-pas that wilted my inner flower. "Who is gonna tell her that she look a hot fucking mess with that wack ass shoes, yo? Damn, you can tell freshman!"The group laughed as I walked back into the building with my head held high stomping like I was Naomi Campbell in a high-end fashion show. I found the nearest girls bathroom and balled up in the first stall and cried to high heavens. I was so damn embarrassed. I went home and chucked them ugly ass shoes right in the trash.

Ever since then, I have despised all things high-heeled that shouldn't be- including, them high heeled Timberlands that Manolo Blahnik and Beyonce had everyone wearing and re-producing.

*sigh* I took me a long time to get over that traumatizing first day but I learned a very valuable lesson NEVER ASK MY GRANDMA TO BUY ME ANYTHING AGAIN!!

Why I Love ...

So-I just wrote that post about me losing my virginity and why i lost my virginity... etc and then I realized that i actually discovered why i love peen so much a little while back. I would call it an obsession but uhm... nah.

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