Ms Puddin' Not So Fierce

There was a time in my life when I really thought I was Beyonce. It didn’t really help my situation that people used to tell me, “Hey, you kind of look like Beyonce.” Which somehow translated in my mind as, “You look just like Beyonce. You sing and dance just like her. Can I have your autograph?”

Things kind of got out of control when I started dying my hair blonde and walking in longer strides. However, over time my love for Beyonce kind of faded (she is way over publicized, yet still talented) and I began to realize that I look nothing like her.

The icing on the cake was not too long ago when I sat in the front row of a Tommy Davidson stand-up show. Um, big mistake, because for about an hour he went off to the audience about how I look like Prince. He even busted out in some Prince-like dance moves singing, Kiss and cooed, I Would Die 4 You.

With the extra, “oooo-oooo-oooo”… *hangs self*

Now people often tell me I look more like Melyssa Ford or Rosario Dawson. I definitely don’t have Melyssa Ford’s body, but I’ll take it. And as far as Rosario Dawson, I used to think she was ugly, until people started telling me that I looked like her. Now I’m like, oh hell yeah I look like her! Dayumn, that girl is fione.

Readers, who are your celeb look-alikes?

Yes, Brett and I have a thing going on. Jealous?

* Disclaimer * This post only kind of has something to do with Brett Michaels

Well I was going to write a post on the Swine Flu, but even I’m sick (figuratively) of hearing about it.The only thing I was worried about when I first heard of the “pandemic spread” was whether or not I could still eat bacon. And as long as no one sneezes on it, I can. Problem solved, next topic.

In other ‘personal’ news, the ex randomly texted me at work today…

The ex:“Who’s Brett?”

MsP: “Michaels?”

The ex: “No, lmao, not Brett Michaels. Are you dating a Brett?”

MsP: “I’m sorry, what is to you who I date?”

The ex: “I can sense that you’re still angry. Why don’t you blog about it, it might make you feel better.”

*Side eye*

Rest assured I’m not going to directly comment on that conversation, because similar to the time not to long ago when he called me to get his Method Man CD out of my car, (circa 2009 what the fuck do you need a Method Man CD for?), he is probably reading this and getting a stiff one by me even mentioning him.

I only posted this because it's funny. Oh the irony. Soooo, yeah, let’s all have a laugh and move the fuck on.

Dr. Nosey Ass Asshole, this is me blogging about you.

* waves *

Surprisingly enough, I still feel the same as I did when I woke up this morning, but thanks for your concern. Do you feel better now that I posted about you? Does it make you feel like turning up your Method Man CD and whacking off to the idea of me and Brett Michaels on the Rock of Love tour bus?

It does? Oh goodie!!!

Bleh.

The MILF Who Killed My Ego

TRUE STORY:

The go go company that I dance with had a live photo shoot at a night club on Sunday. It was make-up artists, costumes, Michael Vincent, the whole nine. So in the midst of the mayhem I made numerous trips to the bathroom to make sure that everything was in place.

I noticed that there was a lady who seemed to be in the bathroom mirror every time I was in there. So I said to her, “Every time I’m in here, you’re here.”

“Yeah, maybe we’re on the same schedule,” she responded.

“Maybe,” I said.

“Sooo,” she said. “How many kids do you have?”

How many kids do I have!!!? NONE. And isn’t the question, do you have any kids, not how many?

“I don’t have any kids, what makes you think I have kids?” I asked.

“Oh, just the way you carry yourself, you seem more mature than the other girls,” she said.

I’m wearing booty shorts and my bra is showing, how in the hell does that scream, “I’m more mature bitches!?”

“No I think that was just a nice way of saying, hey you look fat in your skimpy photo shoot outfit,” I said.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “Don’t worry hon, I have two kids and look at me.”

She was a total MILF, probably in her late 30s, brunette, with big rubber titties. Possibly some work done on her face, but I couldn’t put it past her that she looked good.

“Well, I have a degree, that’s my baby,” I boasted a little bit.

“Oh what do you have your degree in,” she asked.

“I have a BS in journalism,” I told her.

“Oh yeah, that’s good,” she said. “I have my Masters in speech.”

Great, now not only am I a fat ass, I’m a dumbass too. I could feel my bubble burst all over the bathroom mirror. Who the hell was this lady? Was she working for Satan?

Note to self: Don’t start small talk with random MILFs in bathrooms unless you’re under the influence or covered up.

Stop and ask for a GPS system...

*disclaimer*- this blog post has nothing to do with the show LOST. Sorry.

I recently gave my parents two options: they can either buy me a new car with a GPS system in it or they can buy me a Blackberry GPS. It’s a win, win situation. Just because they cut me off doesn’t mean they can’t but me gifts, right?

And trust me, it’s an emergency. I have so many old folded up mapquest papers in the side of my car door, my friends keep asking me if I run a secret escort service. That’s a good idea, but negative. I just have a really bad sense of direction.

And when it comes to stopping and asking for directions, I’m like a guy. For some reason I’d rather drive around in circles for hours, than stop to ask for directions. Unless, of course, I have to pee and then I miraculously turn back into a girl.

Actually, I’m kind of used to driving around in circles. I get to know the area better to prevent it in the future. So until I get a GPS system in some shape or form and you are riding with me, be prepared to take the scenic route.

Silence Is My Aphrodisiac

Well I’m still doing this bartending thing until I can find a decent “grown up people’s” job. Like I, of all people, need to be any closer to alcohol or other people drinking alcohol. However, booze and money in the same spot is right up there with getting some head in heaven. And just for saying that I am probably going to take it up the ass in hell. :-(

Anyway, I was relocated through my company to a different restaurant. Nothing I did, just something to do with some remodeling. It’s the same business, but in a more snooty area and a little more fast paced. Basically this means I have to put up with more shit, but I’ll be making better money. So I guess it evens out.

Although, can I just say that if one more creepy old guy sits at my bar, I’m going to stab him in the balls with my wine key. And that might hurt a bit.

I’m serious. You over there, with the seven and seven, don’t think I can’t see you looking down my shirt as I bend over into the well. And you over there workin’ on your fifth pint, mentioning that oysters are your aphrodisiac before ordering half a dozen is unnecessary.

What do I recommend, you ask? I recommend that you quit staring at my ass, close out your tab and go home to your wife and kids!

Oh and this is for the rest of you know-it-alls, who sit at the bar with the only intention of trying to make a mockery of me. Do I look like I care that you know more about the wines here than I do, because I don’t.

At the end of the day, grape texture serves of no purpose to me but a big chunk of useless information. It reminds me of learning Pi (3.14) in high school. When have I used Pi? Never. Not once has it come in handy. Not at the grocery store, the gas station, during sex, in the shower, not even while surfing the internet has Pi come up as a solution.

I hate to be a bitch, but order a drink and shut the fuck up.

Can anyone pull any strings, because I WANT TO WORK FOR DIDDY!

Not really.

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.

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.

Can't you see my halo?

I went on a date last night with married guy. He’s divorced now. It’s funny how things happen. My very first post on this blog was about having an affair with married guy and here I am dating him. Well let me clarify, his wife had up and left him for eight months before he met me. Why? That is their business, not mine.

Anyway, we actually had a really nice time. It sucks because besides from all the drama, him and me really have a great friendship. Yes I agree, Ms Puddin’ has bad taste in men. Yes I agree, I probably have no business giving him of all people a second chance, but he took me to Maggianos.

Fatty’s hungry, fatty’s got to eat.

Then he took me to a nice little bar tucked away where we could enjoy each other’s company. Man he had all the tricks up his sleeve that night. Taking me to a bar is like taking a five-year-old to Legoland, just heavenly, simply the best.

No sex, but I don’t regret bringing him back into my life. I think time is on my side on this one. Not to mention, the ex, (my most recent trespassing victim) called to say that he has up and moved to Atlanta. Good. Maybe I will finally get over getting drunk, hopping his fence and stalking him.

Time for MsP to find some new hobbies… sewing, pottery, cooking? I told my guy friend the other day that I was going to go grocery shopping.

He’s all, “why, since when do you cook?” And then he started busting up laughing.

Damn.

“Ok maybe I can’t cook, but I can make a mean cocktail,” I replied.

“I don’t doubt that,” he responded back.

Caption This!

We got one of the go-girls a stripper for her birthday. What say you? The best caption I will add to my sidebar!!!

MsP

Single and Sober

I went to my friend’s engagement dinner/congratulatory party/death sentence on Friday and there wasn’t a bar. We toasted the soon to be bride and groom with sparkling apple cider. Boo.

Yes folks it’s gotten to the point in my life where if someone tells me their pregnant I can say, “congratulations!” instead of, “Oh sh*t, what are you going to do?” And when someone announces an engagement I have to show up and pretend to care. Well, deep down I do care. I’m really happy for my friend, but engagement parties and baby showers are not really my forte. I prefer something a little more erotic and captivating, with a bar.

There is nothing like a Friday night, mingling sober with other singles who ask you stupid questions like, “when are you getting married?” Well, you have to have something called a man to get married to first, genius.

Then I started to panic. Why am I single? Should I go to the Humane Society to start picking out my 20 cats now? (Naw, f*ck that, I hate cats). Could it be that I’m greedy klutz who has no idea what she wants? Eek! My disastrous dating past started flashing through my mind…

I remember this one time, when I used to date this one guy, (and this one time, at band camp) I was over at his house waiting for him to get off of work. On the coffee table there was a giant glass bowl of M&Ms. Instead of reaching and grabbing just a few M&Ms, my greedy ass went and grabbed the whole bowl. The glass crushed in my hand. (Stupid cheap bowl, grrr). M&Ms flew everywhere and my hand started squirting blood.

I called 911, but they wouldn’t give me any medical advice over the phone and it wasn’t serious enough to call an ambulance. So with blood running down my arm, I quickly picked up all the M&Ms and glass. When he came home about ten minutes later he had to help me get the circulation back into my hand, which had turned a nice shade of blue.

Another time I was dating this other guy (not at band camp) and right before he came over, fatty ate a whole package of red licorice. When he got there we got into this discussion of things we liked and disliked in the opposite sex. One of his vices was when girls threw up, it was a turn off to him. Needless to say, not too soon after that conversation, all that red licorice kicked in and I started projectile vomiting (uncontrollably) a funky red liquid all over him.

Oops my bad. :(

The first time I had sex with my ex, I had stuffed my bra with socks. Usually when I (would *ahem*) stuff my bra I’d do the quick pull out when nobody’s looking. Unfortunately that night I wasn’t quick enough and when he felt me up, he found my thick ass socks. (On the plus side he did end up wearing them to work the next day).

Dating sucks. So do engagement parties without alcohol. I don’t see what the big deal is about being single. I’m enjoying this thing called life people!

MsP

Women are complicated and men are horny 101

Some more information passed onto me from g-sweet. Thanks homie. ;p

WOMEN'S ENGLISH

1. Yes = No
2. No = Yes
3. Maybe = No
4. We need = I want
5. I am sorry = you'll be sorry
6. We need to talk = you're in trouble
7. Sure, go ahead = you better not
8. Do what you want = you will pay for this later
9. I am not upset = of course I am upset, you moron!
10. You're very attentive tonight = is sex all you ever think about?

MEN'S ENGLISH

1. I am hungry = I am hungry
2. I am sleepy = I am sleepy
3. I am tired = I am tired
4. Nice dress = Nice cleavage!
5. I love you = let's have sex now
6. I am bored = Do you want to have sex?
7. May I have this dance? = I'd like to have sex with you
8. Can I call you sometime? = I'd like to have sex with you
9. Do you want to go to a movie? = I'd like to have sex with you
10. Can I take you out to dinner? = I'd like to have sex with you
11. Those shoes don't go with that outfit = I'm gay

.....

*A recent scientific study found that women find different male faces attractive depending on where they are in their menstrual cycle. For example, when a woman is ovulating she will prefer a man with rugged, masculine features.

However when she is menstruating, she prefers a man doused in petrol and set on fire, with scissors stuck in his eye and a cricket stump shoved up his backside.

Are you kidding?

Ok I know that I look like I could pass for about eighteen or nineteen. I get carded at dive bars and on a good day I could be celebrating my 21st birthday over and over again. I look young for my age. I do. Not that I’m old or anything, I’ve got some years left before I’m back in diapers, but I do have a “babyface”.

And I’ll admit that I am also soft spoken. Yes, believe it or not I have this soft sexy voice that makes men gravel at my feet with diamonds. And caviar. And sometimes they stay down there and suck on my toes.

Unfortunately, my sexy DJ voice only works for the guys and the rest of the time people are like, “what did you say!?” or “huh, I can’t hear you!” So with my soft voice and post puberty vibe, sprinkled with a little bit of nice, people tend to treat me a certain way in the restaurant business. It’s ok, for the most part this comes along with the job. I’m used to people assuming I’m twelve.

So anyway, a friend of mine hooked me up with a job at this nice French restaurant. So far I like it, everyone is cool and it’s decent money. My boss is a cool guy. He’s about business, but he knows how to take a joke. Now don’t get me wrong I like the guy, but last night I sure did have to bite my tongue when I asked him for something and he said, “I’ll be there in a minute, kid.”

KID? Did this fool just call me kid? You know I’ll take honey, baby cakes, even sugar lips, before I let anyone call me kid. I hate it when older people call me kid. I get it, I look like I just got my drivers license, but this isn’t the 1920s. I mean, give me some credit, I do have boobs. Yes, they’re in there, somewhere, f*cker.

* sigh * Well at least I have a job…

An Interview with A Mr. Slausin Ass Slaus

* Warning!! * Don’t read this @ work.

I got the chance to catch up with Slaus from over at Oh Hell Nawl this week and we got into one of our usual random ass conversations…

MsP: Slaus, how’s it goin'? Back problems? Old lady giving you trouble?

Slaus: Hey baby thanks for having me here on your blog n ish! I really appreciate the chance to get away from the shenanigans of my family and then the staff. It's like a damn party filled with meth-addicted monkeys, but without the high and the monkey's are throwing shyt on my walls and trying to sodomise me with damn jolly ranchers! Who does that?

MsP: Um, I couldn't tell ya. Soooo... the Web site you're a slave to, Oh Hell Nawl, is becoming really popular. When was the last time someone you know made you go "Oh Hell Nawl"?

Slaus: Slave is right doll! I kinda feel fortunate, because I see ignant shyt all day every day ya know. Just Monday I was at work and saw this lil hot blonde chick getting on the elevator. Since I could see the elevator was going down, I ran and jumped in also. You should have seen the look on her face! Not because a Big ol black dude jumped on the elevator with her, it's because she obviously thought she was gonna take the ride by herself.. cuz she pooted. I mean it had to be her, cuz there was no one else there but she and I. Must have been one of those lingering ass lingering kinda poots too I bet. All I know is: It smelled like Ha Ha Hell. Damn shame for a girl that fine to poot a cloud of what could be mistaken for Lean cuisines and lama dick. Nasty. She WAS fine though. But I'd have to question her diet. Smellin like that.

MsP: Damn, that will teach you to take the stairs. Have any of your staff ever got into it?

Slaus: The question isn't IF they have, the question is when DON'T we fight. I -mean- fiiiiight. There isn't a week that goes by, when someone doesn't say to me: " Fugg this, you can fire me then!" or " I know that bytch didn’t say what I think she said to me," and my favorite: " You need to get such n such before I cuss them the fugg out! I aint playing!" Most of the time the anger is based at me though, and it's completely deserved. I can be a hard person to work for. Shyt, just Wednesday I fought with my Marketing Manager for an hour over messenger, then fought with my Sales Manager that afternoon!

MsP: Once yall get it together and quit fighting, what are your plans for OHN?

Slaus: GET. PUBLISHED. I am SO sincere. The first goal is to get published by 2009, 2010 at the latest. But it’s going to be really difficult to do so with the way the strip is set up right now. It is a real problem and real talk? It keeps me up at nights sometime. Thank God for Sex n martini’s to bring me back to earth!

MsP: Do you have any blogging rituals? Ex: stretching, finger aerobics, lots of booze, etc.?

Slaus: I blog at my best usually when I find some quiet time, got some Jimi Hendrix or Lenny Kravitz playing, and a dirty martini with three olives. Im boojie. A good martini is the way to go... matter of fact? Where are the dranks? No dranks, and you haven’t flashed boobs once in this interview. This is some booolshyt.

MsP: My bad, vodka and cran or gin and tonic?

Slaus: Gin n Tonic.. or dirty Martini with three gourmet olives. Not those fake ass fake pimento ass Albertson shyts either. Gourmet dammit! Yeah, I’m unapologetically boojie.

MsP: How about, Grape juice or grape drink?

Slaus: Grape anything is nasty as hale!

MsP: Ok, what about orange juice or drank? Red drink???

Slaus: Ok red drank! Definitely. Does that mean I get to keep my Black Card? Cuz you know grape drink is like a Black staple. Every black house from the hood to the Hamptons has a packet of grape koolaid somewhere in the crib! But you know we gotta mix it with other shyt like a lil lemonade.. lil orange drink. Shit.. if there was a chemist degree for mixing koolaid? Black folks would have phd’s a plenty!

MsP: You always talking about some black folks sh*t. If you were stuck on Neverland Ranch with Michael Jackson, what would you do?

Slaus: Slap the dog shyt out of his dumb ass. Why the fugg a beautiful black man, wanna turn himself into an ugly ass white woman? Looking like skeletor n shyt. I expect us to see Michael Jackson in a purple cloak n shyt within a few years, tryna take over Castle Gray skull... watch.

MsP: I would never think of doing that, slapping MJ, that is. Was there ever a moment in time where someone said something really profound when you weren't expecting him or her to? Have you ever shocked yourself?

Slaus: I remember back in the day when I was the typical knucklehead, my Uncle Keith told me: Obstacles exist only when you take your eyes off of the goal. Girl, that shyt has defined my life ever since. That and the biggie Lyric: Damn right/ If Their heads right/ Biggie there ery night! That's real. Shyt I have shocked myself plenty of times when thinking of funny things to say. Lot's of it I don't think will ever see print. It's some shyt i'd hav to save for the stage or something.

MsP: Speaking of Biggie, did you like it better when we called Sean Combs, Puff Daddy, P. Diddy or Diddy?

Slaus: Ion't care if that negro wanna be called captain Kookoocachoo. GIVE US ANOTHER BIGGIE CALIBER ARTIST DAMMIT! And make Sean John clothing comfy in a 3XL bytch! Diddy ass diddy.

MsP: Of the stories you tell, I see you've done a lot of crazy things on your lifetime. What's the craziest thing you've ever done for sex? For money? Have you ever had sex for money?

Slaus: LOL Oh snap! Good question! I've never fugged for money. Other than Ron Jeremy, who the hell is paying a fat man for dick? That's just un-American, unsavory, and foolish. Back in the day though, I did have my boys let the air out of a chicks tires, so she had to stay over for the night. The ass was terrible. I was ready to take my ass outside at 4am with a fuggin bike pump and a set of full lungs, to put the air in that heffas tires so she could bone the fugg out.

MsP: How many times have you been arrested again?

Slaus: Uhm my momma aint gonna read this right? Momma, take yo ass on and do something productive! Ok. Like 4 times. Inciting a riot, lewd behavior, fighting, contempt of court.

MsP: Inciting a riot!? Lewd behavior!? Care to explain? (See what had happened was)…

Slaus: Yeah for real lol. What had happened was.. me and my boys were down in Mardi gras and we wanted to get beads like the chicks were. SO we figured we’d take our jibbys out, and let the women play ring toss. Cops arrested us for lewd behavior. I don’t know if it was the fact that 5 dudes had their jibby’s out, or the fact that this guy Corey had some redhead taking a picture of herself holding his bead adorned dack. Either way, we got arrested. We got those beads tho.

MsP: Have you ever felt breasts that felt like bags of sand?

Slaus: I’m a boob man. I think I’ve groped everything from a barely A to an E-cup. Shyt I remember this one love whose boobs were so big, her bra was prolly made by NASA. Size: Secret F n shyt. Kind of boobies where if you were chest sexin, you were not going to see your jibby poke out the other end... fo reaaaaal. Ego crushin but fun. But bags of sand? Nawl...

MsP: Ok so, Aretha Franklin titties or Oprah's? Would you hit it? Fanger it? Where’s Nupe when you need him???

Slaus: LOL What up Anonymous Nupe! Fanga Bang Productions baby! For real though? I’d be a gay ass gay, before I touch Aretha. Hell, I wouldn’t even know what was tiddy and what was belly or back fat rolled to the front. Hell to the no. And I would be afraid to grope Oprah, because I’m not even sure that sista is a human. I bet when no one is looking, she peels off her flesh and then she appears as just a being of light n shyt, like cocoon. Heffa just levitate about her mansion glowing to all be damned, sounding like that skull head astronaut villain in Scooby doo: Wooowooowoowoowowowoo.

MsP: Would you ever do the Angry Pirate to a female?

Slaus: LOL Not nevah! I’m not doing anything to jeopardize getting a repeat performance of a great blow job. If the Lord invented anything better than the Blow Job, she hid that ish for herself. I LOVE HEAD! I can for go sex, if the head includes the grand finish. Head is to Slaus, and spinach is to Popeye.

MsP: You once told me about a dream your friend had where he was playing offense to R Jay in a game of basketball, naked and he kept blocking the ball with his d*ck. Have you ever had any dreams like that? Have you ever had any dreams that made you go Oh Hell Nawl?

Slaus: I once dreamed I was giving Sailor Moon anal. How's THAT for fucked up! Who does that!? I boolshyt you not. It wasn’t really Sailor Moon, but it was someone dressed up LIKE Sailor Moon. I’m into some kinky ass kinky shyt, but that was ignant..... Wanna (Slaus’ wife) and I will prolly act that shyt out though. We have no good sense.

MsP: If Britney Spears and Amy Winehouse were the last two women on earth, which one would you have sex with?

Slaus: Hmmm I ain’t into blondes, and I love pale chicks with black hair. But Britney got more meat on her bones.... damn.. that's a toss up. Either way I wouldn’t tell anyone, AND I’d have to clean my jibby in hot bleach, holy water and cleansing waters of Lake Minnetonka.

MsP: Btw, boxers or briefs?

Slaus: A Fat man aint supposed to wear briefs under ANY circumstance! If you catch my fat ass in some tighty whitey ass briefs, you can kick my ass. But then again the real question is.. why are you seeing me in my drawls in the first place girl! I'd have to say Boxer or Boxer briefs. I do have some tighties for emergencies though, aint gone lie.

MsP: Well Slaus, that's about all the time I have with you. Any final thoughts before we wrap this thing up?

Slaus: Can I clone you when it's legal? Come onnn! Be a team player. All you need to know is your clone would prolly have to wear a Cheetara costume, and you can't have me arrested for whatever happens next. Clone's ain’t got rights. Seriously, thanks for having me here today baby girl! I usually don't comply with anything beige people ask of me, but you're aiight in my book. I won't even have you sent to the work camps when I’m ruler of the USA. Oh, and all of you folks out there need to read Oh Hell Nawl every damn day! And if that's too raunchy n ignant for you: just check in every week to Oh Hell Nawl and read the strips! Oh yeah, none of you heffas better try to come out the woodwork and say I’m the father of your baby neither. That's how episodes of CSI get started.

MsP: What this? You have something against us light people? Are you just mad because I have a better chance of being related to Obama??? Humpf, hater…

Slaus: Basically. That’s why I ain’t voting for Obama. I ain’t tryna allow the resurgence of the yellow negro, to happen under MY watch. Fugg.That. And besides, his lips dark as hale. How you gonna be that light but then have black ass black lips. Looking like the Crow n shyt. “ It can’t rain ALL the time!” Lol see.. saying shyt like that, is why I wouldn’t be friends with me. But nawl I love Beige people. Love my darkies to. I like everybody.

… but Dick Cheney.

If you really want to know...

Karrie b. did it, Poca did it and the folks over at Oh Hell Nawl did it. So Goddamn it, I’m going to do it too!

Go ahead, since I’m not famous, ask me anything…

How did I become so cool?

How many times have I had sex with a midget?

Am I wearing panties?

Ms Puddin’s never had a d*ck in the booty and other stuff people find hard to believe

I bet a lot of you have been wondering, what happened to Ms Puddin’? Where is she? Why hasn’t she been posting?! (Or not). Well I’ll tell you (anyway) where I’ve been. In the refrigerator! Goddamn birth control got me actin’ all kinds of crazy. Only plus side to the pill is I now officially have boobs...

However, every little thing has me nerve sensitive. The damn faucet in the bathroom that drips constantly has been driving me crazy, Tyra Banks (seriously, who gets that excited over Vaseline?), people who wear sweatshirts and flip-flops at the same time, the penis, the superficial inability for people to recognize our diminishing economy.

And it doesn’t help that lately people have been asking me stupid sh*t. I guess I’m one to talk since I often spend time looking for my phone while I’m on it. Although, is it really necessary for people to continue to ask me the same question over and over again, expecting I will eventually change my answer into the response they are looking for? If it’s a yes or no question and I’ve answered no, more than likely, the answer is no. *gasp* I got into it with a customer at my job the other day, (because of the answer no) over a freakin’ veggie burger…

Customer: “Do you have a veggie burger?”

MsP: “No, I’m sorry we don’t.”

Customer: “You don’t have a veggie burger?”

MsP: “Nope, we don’t.”

Customer: “You really don’t have a veggie burger?”

MsP: “I'm sorry sir, but if you think that if you keep asking me a rephrased version of your question, a veggie burger will magically appear on our menu, you are mistaken. However, we do have a great Asian salad.”

Isn’t “NO” the same in like three or four different languages?

Then, I don’t even know how we got on the subject the other day, but one of my male coworkers could not grasp the fact that I’d never had a d*ck in the booty.

Coworker: “You’ve never tried anal sex before?!”

MsP: “Nope, never.”

Coworker: “Never!? Not even once when you were drunk or high?”

MsP: * strange look * “Um, no.”

Coworker: “You’ve never experimented? Not even once.”

MsP: “No! Gheezus!”

Why is this so incredibly hard to digest? If I died tomorrow, I’m not going to think to myself, (while I’m sitting in hell sippin’ a margarita), “Man, I sure wish that I would have gotten a d*ck in the booty before I got hit by that bus.”

Life is already hard, let’s not make it any harder on ourselves people!

* Goes back to fondling newly grown titties *

Jordan's tongue ain't got nothing on me...

The ex, took the time out of his weekend, to let me know that my MySpace page is (in his opinion) stank/skanky. Why thank you, * stops and waves to the ex * I appreciate your concern on something so important as MySpace. I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea about me based on my MySpace page! Oh no, because MySpace is such a big part of my life. * makes a face *

He also informed me that only Michael Jordan looks good with his tongue out. So let’s compare, shall we?

*sniff, sniff, sniff * I think I smell a hater. What do you think?

Two more days left to enter your pics in the Rock Star Challenge. Things are looking good! Once the contest is over I will get back to my regular routine of blog whoring, promise...