Would you rather...

...get trapped inside Kat Stacks vagina...

...roll around in fake blood at the crack house with Lindsay Lohan...

...or have a baby with Kelis?

Paula Patton is offended, are you?

In a recent interview with Women’s Health Magazine Paula Patton said, “I find [the term biracial] offensive. It’s a way for people to separate themselves from African-Americans….a way of saying ‘I’m better than that’.

I’m black because that’s the way the world sees me. People aren’t calling Barack Obama biracial. Most people think there’s a black president.”

Source: Necole Bitchie.com: Is The Term “Biracial” Offensive?

As a biracial individual I get what Patton is saying as far as how we are perceived. My mom, who is white, said that she sees Obama as biracial. However, I told her although she might see things that way, to the majority Obama is just another black guy.

In fact, coming from my personal experiences, most people when they first meet me assume that I am just a light skinned black person. I know this because people tell me this. They also say that after I open my mouth I sound more like surfer Barbie vs Boquweesha which verifies my “other” qualities. This might be because I’m educated, but another reason might also be because OMG, my mom is like totally a white lady.

I don’t find the term biracial offensive. I’d find words like mutt, half-breed, cross-breed, nigger, etc. offensive before biracial. Why? Because I am more than one race and we live in a society where we have to label everything. So if I had to choose, biracial seems the most endearing.

I can’t help who I am. This is how I came out. When I first meet someone the first words out of my mouth are never, “Hi, I’m Ms Puddin, I’m biracial and I must tell you this because I think that if you’re not mixed you are not as good as me.” I think that Patton has a mixed complex that she needs to work out. I have nothing to hide. My multicultural race is something to embrace…

Wait a minute, timeout. Is it that deep? Is this even worth a discussion? There might be more people out there who would agree with Patton and or are indeed offended. Therefore, I’m wondering maybe the term biracial is equivalent now to when black people used to be called colored or negroes? Or is this going to be something blown way out of proportion?

Also find this article here.

All the things that Tiger did wrong: A guide to pimping hoes and being a billionaire without getting caught up...

...And not ending up killed by a crazy bitch you gave the A++ Dick game too. Which is a no no. Why you giving A++ Dick away all willy nilly? That shit is reserved for Christmas, Anniversary, and Festivus boo boo.

We all know everyone has a freaky side. Of course it's usually the ones we least expect it from who have a whole closet full of freak ass freak in them. Although it’s still hard to imagine Tiger Woods (of all people) saying, "I want to f*ck the shyt out of you, you dirty whore nigga lovin bitch. You want this Tiger dack down your throat? A healthy dosage of Tiger uppercut?", he sort of did. Kinky.

All professional athletes have hoes. Even Kobe has bitches. He just has smarter ones (with ID) under contract to shut them the f*ck up. Marrying a million dollar man, extra pussy is definitely and more than likely included. Does Kool-Aid need sugar? Thought so.

A bitch on the side will get everything her heart desires. She just has to work on two things: A quick kneel and silence. It's all about balancing and stabilizing the pussy on the side so there isn't any confusion or swinging gold clubs.

First of all, call your hoes through a burner (temporary, pre-paid cell phone for the urban illiterate) and never leave voicemails. The whole voicemail situation is baffling anyway. Where in the game do you wait for your hoes to call back? Exactly.

Messing with white crazy women will always get you in trouble. Invariably use black or minoritybroke or bougie women and keep them on payroll in order to keep the peace. Don't forget to change your number every couple months and have a rotation of five hoes every two months, only keeping one as your bottom bitch. Never, ever say, "I love you." Bottom line, don't get attached or catch feelings playa.

Throw lavish parties and invite your hoes. This ensures they sleep with other men you know and takes the heat off of you. Know when to cut contact for a few months ignoring hoes and keep the wife satisfied. One major thing Tiger made the mistake of was lying. You can't lie to women. If Elin is that naive of a woman he should have told her from the jump.

And last but not least do not get killed by your side piece or main lady!!!! NO! DO NOT DO IT! IT MAKES NO SENSE FOR THESE WOMEN TO LEAVE YOU SLUMPED AND LUMPED IN A CORNER!!!

Chris Henry

“Fell” from the back of a pickup truck, killed by fiancé. Why did you jump in the Truck Chris? We know you got ups, but you argued with the WRONG one. Let her drive off, she’ll come back…you got money.

Steve McNair

Shot in the face by side piece. Why did you have a piece around your side piece Steve? Always strapped is a song, not a real lifestyle Steve. Plaxico went to jail. You got shot in the face. They getting rid of you nigras one by one in the NFL.

Arturo “Thunder” Gatti

“Hung himself” after an “altercation” with his wife. Police let her go. Why? Cause she was smarter than you Thunder. Shoulda used that thunder down under to subdue a bitch but noooooooooooooooooooo you snapped your own damn neck...

Playas, please have an entourage. I know pro ballers are dumb, but where are the nigra posses? Where is that illicit friend known for getting hoes in and out? See above all the advice given, get you some hanger-on’s that know how and when to do the things you should but can’t do because of endorsements and your squeaky clean image. Every good girl has a whore friend. Every nerd has a bad ass gangstalicious cousin. What happened to Tiger’s? Kobe’s? Shaq’s?

This is in no way advocating that people cheat or have extramarital affairs. Nope, not going down that road. You signed that dotted line, gave away your right to fuck random broads (except for Will and Jada. Weirdos, but smart.), tough it out anti-playa. But please be smart Mr. or Ms. pro athlete/rapper/local celebrity/lime-light. Because we will laugh at you. We’ll mourn you, but we’ll laugh. Trust.

In conclusion, there isn’t any true way to handle side pieces/jump offs/hoes/bitches/i.e. f*ck buddy. You can have an extra bff, string along Stedman, and let everyone believe that you’re bi. Or maybe, just maybe, be faithful to your wife/husband. Cuz Lord knows we need more of Ozzie Davis and Ruby Dee and less of Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee.

This post was written by MsPuddin, inspired by the thoughts of Rob Holliday (B.K.A rmhoffa, but uses his legal name since he’s on a radio show and HAD to put his freakin link right here.) You can also find it here, along with some more ignant shyt.

Love will choke you and throw you down some stairs if you let it...

I have a friend from high school, who has been dating her boyfriend since high school. A few years ago they packed up and he moved her from sunny California to Oregon, closer to his family. Nine years together and I wouldn’t necessarily call him abusive, but when asked when they’re getting married he says things like, “I’m never going to marry that bitch” or “Ha, yeah right.”

Not understanding why the person she had devoted so my of her life to over the years thought so negatively of her, my friend did what any female would do, she complained.

“If you don’t like it,” he said. “Then why don’t you just leave?”

Fed up, my friend said, “Ok maybe I just will.”

“If you try and leave me,” he threatened later, “I will slash all four of your tires.”

So what did my friend do? She cleaned. She washed the dishes, fed the animals, did the laundry and scrubbed the floors. The next morning she waved him good-bye and as soon as he drove off to work, she threw all of her clean clothes into her car and drove back to Cali.

When she told me the story about a month ago, I was proud of her. However, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She would have to stay strong.

The good news is that she’s only 24, so she still has plenty of time to start her life over…

I called her this weekend to see how she was doing. I was in town so I wanted to stop by her mom’s house for a visit. Her response was, “I’m actually on my way back to Oregon, we are going to try and work things out.”

I wasn’t surprised about the news, but I wasn’t happy.

The rumor is that Rihanna and Chris Brown are back together and everyone is angry that Rihanna went back to him.

""All the abusive men are celebrating," Highroller33138 wrote in a posting on the mtv.com Web site. "It sets a terrible example for women everywhere. Rihanna really disappointed me.""

I mean, what exactly did people expect? Shit, look how long it took before Tina left Ike.

Not to be the cynic of all people who see their glass half empty, but I expected it from my friend and I expected it from Rihanna. Most victims return to their abusers for seconds and thirds.

Eve said best, “Love is blind.”

The only thing that really bugs me out of the whole Chris Brown, Rihanna case is that these types of situations happen all the time to people everywhere and now its suddenly an issue. Ugh. Kind of makes me want to punch someone in the face.

And now a msg from some famous people...

The countdown continues, one more month!!!

Fresh Sealed Eye Candy To Go, Please

Ok kids, never eat candy and then masturbate. Side cramp. Ouch.
Wait, what? Yeah I said it.

You know I’m really trying hard not be one of those girls who had a bad break with the penis and becomes really bitter. And then today my coworker took his wedding ring off and asked me out to dinner. Really? I can still see your tan line homie. Do I look that stupid? Desperate? Maybe. I woke up this morning cuddling with my laptop. How romantic, I know, right?

It just sucks because before my ex I was a fucking pimp. A P-I-M-P. I’m serious. I had hooooosss. Same area codes, but they were there nonetheless. There was always a guy on call good for something. And now my status is so dried up it’s going to take a spatula and some baby oil to get this girl in gear again.

However, I did meet this guy out on the town with the girls over the summer. He gave me his card and I’ve been emailing him, to kind of show him I’m not that interested. The catch is that he is older, but he does own a casino, btw. Apparently, he came into my job the other day when I wasn’t there and was asking about me.

Hmmm, what say you????

Happy Go MsP

Ok so I have been trying really hard to be positive. “Thinking happy thoughts,” “following the yellow-brick road,” and all that’s perky. Look I even changed my hair color and style…

I also decided to start fresh by cleaning my room, which has been a messy disaster for sometime now. Kind of a cheesy metaphor for how my life has been going lately. In the midst of it all, I was coming home to what looked like my closet threw up in the Middle East during a dust storm. It’s amazing how I made it from the door to the bed. How I even found my bed every night is another story. I don’t even want to think about when I was drunk…

Anyway, it took me four hours to clean my room yesterday and I kept sneezing because of all the dust. Another reason it might have taken so long is because I don’t know about you, but I like to clean with loud music. There’s a good chance I spent an hour of cleaning time dancing in front of my mirror.

In the end, I picked a shit load of clothes off the floor, equivalent to five laundry loads. I threw away 75 percent of excess crap from the top of my dresser, desk and floor. I made about $25 in change, found my roller skates and a whole box of tampons. Whoop! Whoop!

Oh the joy.

And to top it all off, I even made my bed. :)

I Hit That

*disclaimer* - I have only done illegal and dirty things to Reggie Bush in my mind. Unfortunately, I have never physically had any real sexual encounters with him.

I wish that women could brag about their sexual encounters, without sounding like dirty whores who feel they have to run home to wash the stench of badussy out of their vagina's.

One of the guys I used to date back in college just recently got drafted into the NFL. I’m talking a multi-million dollar contract. He also just got married. I’m really happy for him and glad it wasn’t me he married. Honestly.

Although, whenever his name comes up, people always ask me if I knew him. Basically because we went to school together.

“Yeah I remember him,” is pretty much all the information I am willing to expose. I’ve learned to keep my sex life private.

Truth is, I hit that. Yes I said it. Actually, if I said it more like a man instead of a lady I’d say, “I made that man my little bitch. Had him screaming my name and everything.”

Ok I don’t know about that last part, but him and I used to GET IT ON.

Back in the day I was a football player magnet. I don’t know why either, because I kind of have a prejudice against them. When I think football player, I think Paco from Blazing Saddles meets Varsity Blues. Not all players, but most of them seem to use their football scholarships as a free ride from school and a tool to pick up women.

At first it was flattering and when I was younger I would take a hot body over brains any day. However, it got old quick and soon I started to feel like a groupie. I mean, pimpin' ain't easy for a lady. And since I’m not the girl he married and is sharing his contract with, people will just assume as much.

Anyway, for the record I am not a groupie and I still hit that. Jealous???

MsP

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???

I'm changing my name to Candy...

So here I am a 24-year-old bartender covered in tattoos. I have a degree, but my skills are limited to me being good in bed and I could probably sleep for 72 hours straight. (Oh I’m experienced baby). My hobbies include drinking and trespassing. Unfortunately I can’t put any of those qualifications on my resume, most companies are looking for a little more, um, depth.

I think I might be having a quarter life crisis.

And to top it all off, I missed the opportunity to celebrate my one year anniversary as a blogger. =( (June 17th, boo-yah!)

Looking at the glass half empty this blows. I go to school all my life and now I have to work until I die. Looking at the glass half full I went to school all my life and now I have to get a job and work until I die. Wait. Ok either way I’m screwed. I’m job-hunting right now and boy does it suck. Can’t I get drunk and lose my panties for the rest of my life? I don’t want to grow up. Growing up sucks. Boo.

It’s kind of funny I post this after telling Nick Hogan to bend over and take it like a man. I’m not going to compare myself to him, but I really need to get my life together. I was looking through the classifieds and our local strip joint is hiring. Hmmmm...

I apologize for my lack of blogging. I need some motivation, a boob job and a sugar daddy. In no particular order…

Don't freak out, change can be good...

I noticed that people haven’t really been blogging much lately.

I thought it was just me, and I felt bad for slacking on posting and commenting. However, slowly some of my favorite bloggers are disappearing, posting less and less.

I started this blog, because I was going through a really hard time. (* tear *) A small piece of that time in my life had to do with me having no direction. A part of me didn’t care, which I found out, is normal. (So is going to the movies by yourself and thinking you’re a ninja, cuz’ I am). I liked my wild ways, and me, but another part of me understood that I needed to get my shit together. Yes, I said shit.

Blogging became therapeutic and I fell in love with writing all over again. Writing and I soon came to enjoy romantic dinners and long walks on the beach, as we gazed adoringly into each others creativity. We connected. We vibed. More importantly, writing took my mind off of my crazy life. I was able to get my racing thoughts into cyberspace and out of my head.

In the beginning I would just tell stories of the crazy things that happened to me during the day, in relation to men, booze, my job, etc. Eventually those stories turned into an addiction. Never in my life had I been able to write and say what I wanted to say, with such positive and witty feedback.

So I guess what I am trying to say is that I am still here. I’m still Ms Fresh Banana Puddin’, but as things in my life are evolving expect to see some changes in my writing.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for being my blogging family. Thanks for being you. ;p

MsP

Would you rather...

...get caught cheating...

...get caught rockin' this outfit...

... or get caught in between Aretha's big ass titties...

Time to start working the corner...

Ok so I went to put in my two weeks at my job the other day.

You know what they told me? “No.Unacceptable”. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t asking to quit, I’m going to quit. Period. Unacceptable? What is unacceptable is that I work here! I hate you, your baldhead and your tie! I hate this job! I hate the dumbass people that come into this place. I hate what I have to wear to work. I hate perky people. I hate being perky to people, who are perky and ask me dumb perky questions like…

Sucky people: “Um excuse me, do you work here?”

MsP: No, I don’t work here. I just like coming in here every day wearing the same sh*t that everyone else is wearing.

Sucky people: “Um excuse me, do you have a bathroom?”

MsP: No we don’t have a bathroom. What kind of restaurant/bar do you think we are? A bathroom? Pfffff. (Wouldn’t the question be, where’s your bathroom, not do you have one)?

Sucky people: “This place is great, do you like working here?”

MsP: No! I don’t! Stop asking me dumbass perky ass questions!

So therefore, whether they accept it or not, after two weeks I’m out! I’m returning my uniform, unwashed, and I’m getting another job. Life is too short.

Have a great weekend people!!!

Ms Puddin’ Needs Jesus

Today at work one of my male coworkers invited me to go to church with him and his family on Easter Sunday. I’m flattered, but f*ck. The last time I went to church, gas was under $3 and I think Jesus laughed at me.

I have a love/hate relationship with church. I love how refreshing and uplifting it can be, but at the same time I hate how it can make me feel like I walked in the building wearing OJ’s glove. I guess I feel that way because I never go. Also my mom being Jewish and my dad a Christian, has left me a bit confused. While I’m sitting there listening to the pastor preach about so many positive things, all that is flashing in my mind is my debauchery from the night before. (Whoops). But wait, isn't that the point? To free yourself of your sins?

I’m pretty sure my coworker invited me as a “friend”, (I wonder if he is trying to tell me something) but I know his family goes to a really prestigious church. I prefer to go to one of those “come as you are” churches, so no one will say anything if I come hung over, in jeans.

Plus my whole wardrobe is black, wtf am I going to wear? Is a tight, black skirt to skanky? Too funeral? Should I hide my tattoos? Do I really want to get up at 8 a.m. on a Sunday? Ack! I think I’m going to have a panic attack. I told him I would think about it. What do you think? Should Ms Puddin’ go and get her praise on?

Maybe I will meet the Easter bunny ;p ...

On The Come Down

So that whole drug hallucinate experience really f*cked up my week. I couldn’t tell up from down and what leg to put into my panties first.

Then of course I mentioned my ex in that last post who is ironically like a drug. I don’t know which one is worse for me, actually experimenting with E or him. One minute he makes me feel great like I could do no wrong. The next minute I’m laying cold in an alley somewhere grinding my teeth together, holding a paper cup, wondering what the hell happened. ???

I hope this is a phase. Really I do. It’s all fun and games to joke around about living life like a rockstar/pornstar, but in all reality, I’m not cut out for this type of work. I mean the sex is great, but other than that I’m going to need a minute in my hotel room with a hot towel on my head. I don’t know how else I’m going to recuperate between head banging and jumping into swimming pools booty butt naked.

So I took a minute last night to chill out, smoke some weed, cook some food and watch a little Chappelle. This is old, but he had me crackin’ up, fast forward to about 1:45…



He said, “n*gga WTF is juice?” LOL

Have a great weekend!!!

A Taste of Fresh Banana Puddin’

Ok all, this post might be a little different from what you are used to. For the record I am not trying to be funny here and I didn't mean for this to turn into confessions of Ms Puddin'. This is just something I am going through right now and I have to get off my chest …

I know that I joke around a lot about crossing over to the other side --well the opportunity presented itself Saturday night. I went out with a girlfriend of mine and got hit on by a chick. I mean but this girl was serious. She told me I was beautiful and that she wasn’t full on lesbian, but she was attracted to me and wanted to get down with the get down. (Of course if a guy spit that line at me, things would have went down a little different).

And don’t get it twisted, this chick did not have a buzz cut and baggy jeans. (Not that there is anything wrong with that). She sported some tight pants, a pretty face and long hair. I gave her my number. I do check girls out from time to time, but never in a sexual way, more so in a comparing the of goods sort of way. Checking out the competition.

Now I know what people are thinking, please judge me. However, first let me break it down and put something into perspective. Here is what I believe about women who experiment or cross over to the other side. I believe that when a woman has been treated so f*cked up by a man, she sometimes can find the companionship and love from a woman that man was unable to give, while she is trying to move on.

I know some of my friends read this blog and they are going to call me like, “Puddin’ what in the hell is wrong with you?!”

Wait please let me explain. I will never give up men. There is something about certain masculine qualities that do it for me, no question. But I am going through it right now in the dating department. I’m bored. So when I get bored I call my ex and he is an asshole. Period. I have verbalized multiple times how bad he is for me and yet I still let him have control over me. No he’s not physically abusive, but mentally he has messed my head up and turned me into this girl that I don’t know. I won’t go into detail of some of the things that he put me through, (trust me it is not worth the detail), but I am very insecure because of him.

It’s sick, because don’t get it twisted I get hit on, holla’d at, talked to and basically attacked all the time. People are always telling me left and right how beautiful of a person I am on the inside as well as on the outside. And it hurts because I go home, look in the mirror and think to myself, “I just don’t see it, what are these crazy people talking about?”

I know everyone has their own insecurities, but mine lead me back into the arms of someone who isn’t right for me. I’m always looking for approval from this man. I don’t want to change him. I’m waiting for him to change me. Deep down I know that is something I have to do for myself. When I am ready. And right now I just don’t have it in me.

So if she calls I am going to answer, but this is curiosity and temporary. I have never really seen myself going there. I could never see myself doing anything with another chick, especially that. I would never have the balls like she had to approach me and see what the business was. She even explained to me that she didn’t want a girlfriend. I don’t either. I just want to feel good about myself again and be happy even if it is coming from a woman instead of a man.

*This is a testimony not a coming out of the closet moment.*

Please don't stop the funny...

So I’m sure everyone has heard by now about the Writers Guild’s strike. Unless of course you are a reality TV kind of person, this probably has affected you. Or is going to affect you. I know I can’t go without my Grey’s Anatomy or Desperate Housewives fix. And some of my favorite female characters have been brought to life by writers…

Karen Walker: Will and Grace

“Martini, honey, and don’t waste any space with those olives!”

I love this bitch. She’s always dressed for the occasion wearing her expensive black designer clothing and hairpiece. She never fails to entertain us by washing her prescription meds down with a martini before 11 a.m. and talking sh*t about all the "little people".

Samantha Jones: Sex and the City

“The country runs better with a good looking man in the White House. Look what happened with Nixon…no one wanted to fuck him, so he fucked everyone else.”

Doesn’t everyone wish they could be a little bit more like Samantha? She’s a bold career woman who has a tendency to get what she wants. She’s promiscuous and classy. Go figure?

Christina Yang: Grey’s Anatomy

“You are eight feet tall. Your boobs are perfect. Your hair is down to there. If I was you I would just walk around naked all the time. I wouldn't have a job, I wouldn't have any skills, I wouldn't even know how to read. I would just be... naked.”

Christina is dry, bitter and has SARCASM stamped on her forehead. And thanks to WGA, her wit comes naturally, almost like performing open-heart surgery.

Gabrielle Solis: Desperate Housewives

“The only person more self-centered than me is Carlos, he's so self-centered he doesn't even know how self-centered I am."

There are two things Gabby does best, cheating on her husband and talking about herself. Sounds exhausting, when does she find the time to be desperate?

Every Little Girl’s Dream

If and/or when ? I get married, I have it all planned out…

The Location:

The Priest: (btw, I didn't know it was possible for guys to have a camel toe)...

The Witness:

The Guests:

The Reception:

The Honeymoon:
(I don't really have a place in mind as far as location. Might as well stay in Vegas since we're already here. Just somewhere with really strong drinks)...

Please don’t RSVP until I find a man…

Hypothetical Situation

Would you rather have Amy Winehouse’s dental work…

Dolly Parton’s reconstructive surgery…

or Britney Spears' legal problems???

Hypothetical Situation

A pack of wolves or Geico’s cavemen not being an option, would you rather be parented by…

Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown…?


Britney Spears and Kevin Federline…?

Or Dina and Michael Lohan…?