Obama Overload

Ok my mom emailed me this earlier today.

Then my cousin just sent me a link to Ludacris' new endorsement of Obama.


Lyrics:

I'm back on it like I just signed my record deal
yeah the best is here, the Bentley Coup paint is dripping wet, it got sex appeal
never should have hated
you never should've doubted him
with a slot in the president's iPod Obama shattered 'em
Said I handled his biz and I'm one of his favorite rappers
Well give Luda a special pardon if I'm ever in the slammer
Better yet put him in office, make me your vice president
Hillary hated on you, so that b^$&%* is irrelevant
Jesse talking slick and apologizing for what?
if you said it then you meant it how you want it have a gut!
and all you other politicians trying to hate on my man,
watch us win a majority vote in every state on my man
you can't stop what's bout to happen, we bout to make history
the first black president is destined and it's meant to be
the threats ain't fazing us, the nooses or the jokes
so get off your ass, black people, it's time to get out and vote!
paint the White House black and I'm sure that's got 'em terrified
McCain don't belong in ANY chair unless he's paralyzed
Yeah I said it cause Bush is mentally handicapped
Ball up all of his speeches and I throw em like candy wrap
cause what you talking I hear nothing even relevant
and you the worst of all 43 presidents
get out and vote or the end will be near
the world is ready for change because Obama is here!
cause Obama is here
The world is ready for change because Obama is here!

I'm not mad, just ready to see what is going to happen next, ya know?

Backwards Love

I had an epiphany. I know, I know, me in deep thought may come as a shock, but humor me here. I could be onto something...

I was driving in my car the other day when that Mary J. Blidge song came on the radio, “Not Gon’ Cry.” Remember that song from Waiting to Exhale, outlining Angela Bassett’s character? The woman who was married to her man for 11 years, helped him build his company success, had two of his children, then he had an affair (with a white woman) and left her?

Well I was thinking, they’re relationship probably started out all honeymoon-like. They met, fell in love and things were great, long walks, long conversations, lots of sex and quality time. That was, until he started thinking with his dick, totally fucked her and tried to take everything she had worked so hard for.

I’m thinking that since people tend to get married to get divorced, this scenario is all too familiar for most.

Then there are other people, (like me), who meet their significant other and they start showin’ they ass within like the first few weeks. Not to be too specific, but a rude, lazy, selfish, player, with no intentions to commit, no direction and so not worth the time and effort, who one day realizes that he is a jerkface and the two of you were meant to be.

Basically what I’m saying is that maybe we should start dating backwards, ya know? Like get all of our flaws out of the way in the beginning of the relationship, so in the end we can live happily ever without divorce or compromising surprises.

Ok this could be a really lame justification for my personal dating situation or a brilliant revelation...

Top 5 Drunk Moments in Puddin' History

This is my 200^th post! Yeah boi! Lets get naked!

In honor of myself (really, enough about me), I thought it would be cool to take a stumble down my drunken memory lane. Pretty much to remind us all that a camera + alcohol = a bad idea.

So please, sit back, grab a cocktail and enjoy the Top 5 Drunk Moments in Puddin' History...

A recent pic of me at a rock star party strikin’ my signature pose…

I couldn’t even get up, but I sure was trying…

Ok, I’m not even sure whose car that was and I’m pretty sure my friends just propped that cigarette in my hand to make me look even cooler…

Just feeling up a guy in his wedding dress, don’t mind me…

I’m such a fuckin’ lady…

Ok that last one wasn’t me. Seriously.

MsP

The Art of Stalking

The difference between a female and a male stalker is this: A female stalker will call you repeatedly, hanging up as soon as you answer. If, and only if, you tick her off she will speak, cussing you out, but then hanging up before you get a word in edgewise.

A male stalker will stay on the phone long enough to breath into the phone so much that your ear may become moist. He might even dry heave a few words at you like, “What are you doing?” or “Do I make you horny baby?”

I can appreciate a good stalker every now and again.

Sometimes they come in handy when I forget the password to my MySpace page or can’t remember which gas station was the cheapest. Not only do my personal stalkers bring me the paper and Starbucks, but also I can occasionally get some lurkers to comment over here every now and again. Thanks guys. :)

Don’t feel bad if you fit into any of the categories above, for I am a certified grade A stalker myself. I’ve master sliding into my camel-toe-tight-cat-suit and then lurking beneath my ex’s window in the bushes. Waiting to see what he is up to or watching his cable for free in through the window.

Ok let me rephrase that, it’s not so much a cat suit as me naked and not so much me hiding in the bushes, but more so me drunk, inconspicuously (eagle spread) passed out on his front lawn.

Ok so maybe I lied and I’m not the best stalker. So what, I’m a liar and a really good trespasser. Whatever.

Anyway, the last few nights I’ve been receiving an anonymous phone call. Last night anon caller called me 27 times! At 2 a.m.! All of which I answered once, where he proceeded to breath inauspiciously into the phone and then say in a low voice, “I just want three minutes of your time.”

I was really struggling to imagine what kind of low life f*ck would keep pestering me. Was it the hottie I gave my number to last weekend at the bar, through my blurred vision?

Aw, crap-on-a-condom. It probably was. Well, there are better ways to ask a girl out on a date. I just hope I don’t end up a victim like in some made-for-TV horror movie…

I know I haven’t posted or whored around on other blogs in almost a week, but can I distract you with the fact that *gasp* Britney Spederline looks almost normal!!!!!!!!!????????

Would you rather…

…adopt four kids and then give birth to twins…

…give Kevin Federline custody of your kids…

…or find out you’re an immediate relative to the Hogans???

Sunny Side Up

This stupid quarter-life crisis thingy is taking up a lot of my time. And I’m finding out that too many people that I know read this blog. It makes for an awkward situation when I bump into someone and they’re like, “I really like your writing, but I think you might have a drinking problem.”

Goddamnit!

I’m going through a personal crisis right now, drinking is the least of my problems. I’ve ate all the food in my house, used up all the gas in my car and have probably applied to every single job opening on craigslist. I could use a drink. Actually, I’m thinking of AA just for the free food, coffee and group support from a bunch of other losers probably far off worse than me.

I’m just saying.

Let me break this down for those who still can’t quite feel my pain. Some people graduate from high school and then go straight into the work force. They might have a job that they hate for the rest of their life, but they have experience.

Other’s (like me) go to college for ten years, party, have sex, act like a gay whore on parade day and then graduate with a degree and no experience. They can’t even experience having a job that they hate, because no one will hire them.

I'm such a brat, I know.

And then the ex pointed out that most writers don’t get the recognition they deserve until after they die. I love how when I am down there is always someone there to help me look at the bright side of things. =)

Find me in a better mood here.

Here I Am

Thank God I found me. I’m over here today guys.

Actually, unless I get too drunk, pass out on public transportation and wake up naked, face down on the beach again, (or at least I think that was the beach, it was sandy), I should be here every Thursday.

MsP

Yes, Fatty Is Hungry

Ok I need to know how much cookie dough does it take before you die?

I’m serious. I have been grubbin’ lately. My roommate’s friend saw some of my pictures on MySpace and asked her, “How does your roommate stay so thin?”

She’s like, “I don’t know, all she does is sit on the couch and eat popcorn.”

This is true, but sometimes it’s popcorn and other times it’s using nacho cheese or a tub of butter to dip my rack of lamb into. The weirdest part is that I really don’t work out. I would rather get a dick up the nose or see Bush re-elected as president than go to the gym.

The most exercise I probably got all last week was walking to the car to go out to dinner with my friend. When we got there, at first I had water and a glass of wine. Then I had a small salad with ranch and the shrimp appetizer. Then I ordered the Lemon Herb Chicken with asparagus, a side of mash potatoes and a side of rice. Then I had a shot.

I know I’m not pregnant. You have to have sex to get pregnant. Although I hope I don’t start looking like I’m pregnant. The day I look down and can’t see my own vagina, I might need to get up and run around the block or something…

Oh! I found another blogger with the right idea, a boyfriend application. Feel free to apply.

Not Wanted

The job search isn’t going so well. =(

I finally dusted off my 2007 copy of Writer’s Market and as I turned to the page entitled, “Successful Freelancers”, to Larry Getlen’s smiling face I wanted to punch him in the face.

Except he was on paper so I couldn’t. However, when I flipped the page there were maybe two or three more other successful freelancers. And I kind of felt better. Like there is a chance in hell that I will be taken seriously as a writer someday and live out this “romantic career” as my mother calls it.

Speaking of my mom, we’re having a total email battle at the moment. Apparently we are both too busy to pick up the phone to simply yell at each other. Although it would probably sound something like this…

Mom: Blah! Blah! Blah!

Me: Omigod mom, you’re like so totally ruining my life!

I’m so mature, I know. I think I graduated from college and started high school all over again.

The 411 is that I’m the only girl out of four boys and therefore I am spoiled. $100 shoes used to constitute as a credit card emergency. When I was in school my parents were helping me financially and now that I have a degree they are cutting me off cold turkey. Sh*t, I haven’t even received that sucker in the mail yet, but no gas money, no booze money, no omigod-I wonder-if-they-have-those-in-my-size money, I gets nada.

Well I guess on the bright side, if I don’t find a decent job and my internet and phone get cut off I won’t have to listen to my mom b*tch anymore. According to her, it is really easy to find a job and I’m just not trying hard enough. It’s good motivation, but f*ck. If she gets any further up my ass I won’t even be able to fart, which is almost as important as finding a job.

*Oh and btw I have been diagnosed with Gerontophobia aka Fogiariasis aka Stank Heffaitis. So please keep all falsies, Depends and other things closely linked with death off this blog.

Thanks, MsP.

PS- Happy Fourth! Don't play with fireworks, you could die. =(

Bitch should have taken the stairs...

Also, now I need a word for the fear of old people or a phobia of old people, something in that nature. I think once we diagnose it and get me some medication, I can solve this problem and people won’t think I’m so mean.

If I were an assassin, I wouldn’t get punked by old ladies…

I went to see Wanted yesterday by myself. I like going to movies alone, but Wanted was one I could have seen with someone else. However, I didn’t feel like going through all the trouble of finding a compatible schedule with a guy or a friend just to see a movie, so I said “f*ck it” and went stag.

I get into the theatre and there were about three other people in there as it was a matinee. One guy even cracked a joke as I sat down, “I’m sorry ma’am, but I don’t think there are enough seats left for you to watch this movie”.

I smirked a little, copping a seat in the handicap section. You know the place right in the middle where there is a gap between the bottom rows and the top.

Halfway through the previews an older couple comes in. I’m chowin’ down on my nachos not really paying attention to them as they are looking for seats. That is until the old lady comes right up next to me and asks if anyone is sitting where my purse is. I’m sorry, because the whole theatre is empty. I have bad luck with old ladies, so I decided to just get up and move one aisle up instead of arguing with her.

“You don’t have to leave,” she said.

I know I don’t, but I don’t understand why out of the entire deserted theatre, you have to sit your old crusty ass right next to me. I don’t want to sit next to you, humph.

The old man did have a cane, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

The movie wasn’t how I thought it was going to be, but it didn’t suck either. Seriously though, if Angelina Jolie is in one more movie as an assassin, I’m going to start thinking she is one in real life.

She looks like one, sh*t. I bet she is training all seven of her children to kill.

Although, I wish that when my life sucks and I have a panic attack, I could get in on my dad’s secret life as an assassin and substantial bank account. Being if my dad were an assassin in the first place. I could take out old ladies who think that just because they are old they can steal my movie theatre seats.

*hi-yah!* Bitch I’m a ninja, I will cut you!

On a side note, I found my soul mate in the blog world. He is a redneck and hilarious, check him out!

Also, vote for me here! I’m under humor and I gets no love… =(