When karma punches you in the face...

I dub this as Perez Hilton's new theme song...



It would be irrelevant for me to go on a rant right now about Perez and his antics as of late. I'm not condoning violence or picking sides, but didn't he have it coming? And I'm sorry but that was a good ass whoopin' son. It's like all the nasty things he's ever said about other people swelled up in his left eye.

I really do hope he signs up for John Mayer's, "Never Call A Black Dude a Faggot Jitsu" class...

In the meantime...

I guess since there are a few stragglers in the competition, I’m going to go ahead and hold off on the judging. I wasn’t planning on posting until then, so in the meantime, she’s f*cking Matt Damon...



...and he’s f*ckng Ben Affleck...

Chain of Fools

My life is too complicated right now, so I’m going to switch things up and talk sh*t about other people. Yay! I know, I'm excited too.

Was it DL Hughley on the Kings of Comedy who said, “there is always that one person at your job you are this close to slapping the sh*t out of? And if you can’t think of anyone, that person just might be you?” Well I don’t remember his words exactly, but my point is, there are definitely those people at my job.

I don’t necessarily want to slap them. It’s more of wanting to stick my foot out when they walk by, so I can enjoy watching them eat sh*t. (Is that mean?) I can’t even think of just one person I would do like that. There are like four or five of these mufuckas lurking around my workspace…

*First of all there is this dude who is fabulously in touch with his homosexuality. Comes to work with product in his hair, eyeliner lined just right and flaps his hands around way too much when he talks. The thing I can’t quite figure out is how his breath can be so funky? It is a funk that comes from deep within and boy is it kickin’. His breath would, no question, Ty-kwon-do that ass in a fight.

I’m just curious, how do you have time to put product in your hair, but not brush your teeth? I’m not playing when I say I can’t breathe when this fool talks. One time when he spoke to me, I accidentally breathed in and I swear I farted.

*Next there is the new guy. I kind of feel sorry for him, because no one really takes the time to show him the ropes. And someone needs to, because goddamn he is irritating. I will be in the middle of a conversation with somebody and here he come with some random ass, dumb ass question, like, “do you spell Fat Tire, P-H-A-T?” Looking at me throughout the entire question with a serious and innocent expression on his face. I’m like man it’s a beer not a woman! Focus. Fat Tire, I’m sure, is made by some ol country ass people who don’t know nothing about no PHAT.

*Now, I’m going to go ahead and categorize the next two people in the same group. The two that come to work every single day with an attitude, never want to do sh*t, complain about everything and then always want to be the first ones to go home. Stomping around saying sh*t in a whiny ass voice like, “Omigod, I can’t believe I have a customer! I only made three dollars tonight, I was going to go home an now they want to seat me!”

I’m sorry, why don’t you Debbie Downer take Negative Nancy home with you, where you two can sit on the couch and complain to each other that the remote is too far away? Don’t come into work with your clouded black aura blowing smoke in my direction. I might not want to be here either, but nobody will ever hear me at work crying like a little b*tch. Sh*t be happy you on the clock.

*Then there is Ruby. (I’m going to go ahead and bust her all out). Ruby isn’t one of the people I want to trip, but this girl is high ALL THE TIME. I just don’t get how a person can come to work that high? When I’m stoned, I like to sit on my couch, eat and probably laugh at some stupid sh*t. I would never get any work done. Although I wouldn’t even call what Ruby does, work. She kind of just floats around the building everyday. Always telling me band camp stories that are like 20 minutes long.

One time she was telling me this story and I kind of tuned her out, like I usually do. I guess she got to the end of her story, because she starts cracking up. “Get it? Get it?” she said. “No I’m sorry,” I said. I wasn’t really paying attention.” So she starts over, trying to tell me again and I cut her off like, “No, really it’s ok, I’m sure I had to be there.”

The Chick Who Offended My Vagina

Remember before the holiday when I got all mushy talking about a potential bisexual experience? Well the b*tch never called me. So all my curiosity about eating box flew right out the window.

Then similar to the time I had one too many vodka cranberries in a karaoke bar, ya know, the place where the fat guy slouched over the bar for half the night, suddenly gets up and feels the need sing ten Nickleback songs in a row? Yeah, that place. The same karaoke bar where I met (stumbled upon) a guy who later turned me into a pretzel and stuck random gardening tools up my ass. (Don’t tell me this hasn’t happened to anyone else before)…Well like I was saying, the chances of reenacting that experience is parallel to the fact that I bumped into the same chick at the bar Saturday night.

Coincidence? Maybe. Small world? I think not. Me drunk again? Yes, of course.

Let me just say for the record I was on fire that night. I had guys whispering things in my ear like, “Let me buy you two drinks” and “I like your weave” all night. I didn’t get any numbers, but I did get a couple of room keys. Wait a minute, now I get it. Damn. Ok so what I was dressed like a hooker at a pimp convention on 5th street and I watch enough TMZ to know how to correctly flash my vagina. (Thanks Britney!)

Anyway, the chick that hit on me a couple weeks ago was there and she was all up in my ass. No you sick people! Not literally in my ass, she was just jockin’ the goods. She kept trying to dance and rub up on me, while whispering in my ear, “damn girl your bad, your bad.” I’m sorry just because you have a vagina doesn’t mean anything. You got my number and you didn’t call, so stop rubbing up on me. I’m going to treat you like any other man. I demand an explanation! I’m a catch b*tch!

So she starts telling me her see-what-had-happened-was story about how she didn’t want to scare me, blah, blah, blah something about how amazing I am, blah, blah, blah. I know, I know, get to the point. Basically there was no point, so I brushed her off and she spent the rest of the night stalking me. Relentlessly trying to get me into the bathroom so we could make out.

No, I didn't go! It takes three not two drinks to get my shirt off and my tongue out.

At the end of the night she found me again only to remind me that she still had my number and this time she was going to call. I’m so sure and Ms Puddin’ has had gardening tools up her ass before, gah! It doesn't matter if she calls or not, I'm over it. I think I was just caught up in the moment.

So much for the vagina, it's back to the penis...

My Secret Lover: Gay Pride Travels to NYC

You know it's funny...

I just took my first trip ever to NYC, from the Bay Area, California (officially the last family vacation I will ever suffer through again) and some how managed to stumble in on a gay pride parade...go figure. Here is me talking to the 'Top Flight Security Guard' at the festival...

MsP- "Wow! Do you guys do this every Sunday?"

'Top Flight Security Guard'- "Nope. This only happens once a year."

man...???
man...!!!
men....!!!
man...???
boys...;)
men...!!!
I have to admit I have a crush on NYC...but don't tell anyone ... *see I'm blushing*... I am a Cali girl, forever in my heart.

Although, there was something about NYC that I just can't explain. Maybe it was the busy streets, (almost getting run over by a taxi cab), all the glamorous shopping, (getting a coach bag and sunglasses off the street for more than 1/2 off), or the food (is NYC known for the food?) that has got me all flustered inside.

Traveling with the fam can really drag a**, but I wouldn't trade my NYC experience for anything. I would go back in a heartbeat.