To get the party started, our topic for the day is...Coochy Coupons....Do they have an expiration date? When you give a playa one, does he get a lifetime membership to the putty or just yearly visits? I mean, this is unless he royally fuks up like he beats you, gets you arrested or fuks with your MAC or shoes, then that don't count...goes without saying, all that ish is absolutely unforgivable. Is there a way for you to discriminately pass them out on your 21 sale days and have a Busta redeem his discreetly and then beat it without whining or trying to haggle on the clearance rack? Can you stop him from hanging around while you are doing inventory and rearranging your stock during the other 3-5 days?
Questions like these, my party people in da house, are what keeps the party going over here and brings us back to MM, Mississippi Mud. Yes, crooked letter, crooked letter, I can't stand this motha hopping biscuit eater! That child knows he works my last nerves. Ok, ok, pass the Henny and hot wings....I'm gonna tell you all about my old jump-off and his shenanigans and his lack, thereof. (WARNING: This is one of those "You Told Harpo to Beat Me" stories.) Here we go now, come on.......
I met MM (no names, now, no names.) a little over a year ago thru my home jammy jam, AVJ. I was still kinda reeling from the previous jump-off who had a fukn play-by-play rule book on dating. TRUST!! I will get to his ass too, just gimme a mino. MM was pretty cool. Tall, laid back, country and kinda looked like a cute Biggie, if that was possible. And, yup, doofus over here fell like a ton of bricks going thru the window of the Blazer of a cheating ass, black man caught up in Chic Rick's with one of his "workers." (Throw-back!! Y'all don't know nothing bout dat. UNLESS, you were there, I plead da Fifth.)
SMDH....I don't know if I was stupid or well, if I was just stupid. Don't get me wrong...ain't nothing really wrong with MM...that is, if you don't want to go nowhere, don't need your man to have no money, and, oh yeah, did I mention he is great if you don't want to go nowhere and you don't need yo man to have no money? I mean, MM will spend time with you, all you want. BUT, that time is spent screwing, rolling over, getting a sammich, screwing, rolling over, getting a pop, rolling over, going back to sleep, getting a lil mo for da road and then you going home. Now, you can stay as long as you want, but you MUST know yo ass will not be leaving the confines of his room until you take your confined ass back to the crib. If you go anywheres, your Route 66 or 69, if you like, will be going back and forth to the bathroom, the bedroom, the TV (IF his zillion and five homies ain't there) and back to the bedroom. That's it. Now, you may get a bucket of chicken out of the deal, but don't be looking for no ambience and candles or no ish like that, cause IT AIN'T GONE HAPPEN. You just better sit there, eat that 3 piece with mild sauce, ketchup and salt and pepper by the lamplight and be giggly as a motha fuka while 92.3 bumps the jams. He really was a sweet guy, y'all. ;-$ He just ain't never talkin' bout nothing!
With all of these fabulous qualities, we still ending up having a few problems. Can you believe dat? Ya think? NO!! I'm kidding, right? Bullshit. AS IF THAT ISH WASN'T ENOUGH? It really is all my fault too. I had no dayum bizness snooping. That's right. I did it!! And, what do we say after that, boys and girls? And, you betta not tell no g-dayum body either! One night, I got bored (and who the fuk wouldn't?) in between the bedroom and the bucket of chicken and decided to scroll thru his text messages. And, for the record, the dumb motha hoppa GAVE me the phone to do it. I was like, "Whoa!! Did I hit the mother lode or what? Is he stupid or dayum, is he just really stupid?" As Tweety Bird on my man's jeans say, "He don't know me dat well, now do he?" I whipped thru that motha fuka like T-Mobile on Ten, AT&T on Acid and Nextel on a nickel bag. I found texts from some chick asking where he at, another asking why he don't, one asking what she do and he do and one last one asking for a little bit off the top. Now, I ain't hating on the top off hoe at all. Because, if he didn't have a little swordsman in his blood and pipefitter in his pants, we never would have lasted them six months and some change. I kinda understood her. At the time I met him, a broad was broke, starving, and gang-banging. AND, horny. To be getting it on the regular and GOOD, on the regular, had me happier than a queen with a Crown Royal bag packed with liquor and ding-a-lings that used Gold Wrappers. Hello! Talk to me now!
I was really ok with America's Best Sweat Crew. Didn't bother me too much at all. Hell, we all gotta cry some time. But, what really got my brain twirled was these broads sending him coochy shots. No, not back shots, not Vicky shots or Patron shots, but nasty ass fukn coochy shots!!!! I was like, "WTFFF???" (Yeah, I needed THREE f's for that.) I'm like, "That is what my lil yella ass get." I almost went blind! I'm talking bout vamp the Vulva, clip the Clit, lasso the Labia and pop dat putty pics. I just could not believe it. I did not want to be that up close and personal with my own Betty, less than known some other kitty's yarn ball. That's just nasty y'all!! I'm about to regurgitate on my keyboard as I peck. And, I betcha that will make you think twice about asking a chick to use her phone too, now won't it? In any case, I might have been ok with that too, after I sprayed that phone with Lysol, bathed that keypad in ammonia and stuck a TB and Tetanus shot in the earpiece and camera hole, but we were NOT going no where! Yup, you got it. No, we were not mingling with the outside world at all. I sat in dat chair, sat in dat chair, likes ta rot...Sophia, The Color Purple His idea of going to the movie is watching bootleg flicks with niccas all in the video and passing one Heineken between me and his zillion and two homies. SMDHH!! Now, THAT is where I drew the line and got my thongs in a knot to kill.
Ok, advice on MM: if he was going to have Hoodies Gone to Hell do the fool, it would have been better for him to have them do it while we are on our way to the Islands or at the very least, to Banderas or Flat Top Grill. Not saying those are top down restaurants. They are like lunchtime with the girls for me. But DAYUM, you gotta understand what I was working with. I had to start small. Popeye's was his thang and it was making my ass swing around the corner after I turn it and have a Jheri Curl complexion. I was getting chicken grease errywhere! Plus, I didn't want to scare him with something like China Grill or Fat Cat . :-O And, people, we are talking minor league here and you know it.
Nevertheless, I wasn't tripping, not really, even after all the coochy clicking. I'm one of those chicks who go into most of my relationships or dalliances with eyes wide open and legs wide shut until I get proof in the pudding and good pudding for proof. Papi said you can't be letting everybody have a piece of the candy. God, I love that man!! In the very beginning, I give my behavioral speech, even though it has been pledged more times than the Pledge of Allegiance, spit more than Kanye's "Love Lockdown" and preached more than the sermon of Creflo Dollar trying to get one more collection plate in. I make all they asses pledge to be on their best behavior and not embarass me while they are whoring around, WHILE I'm over here making up my mind about whether or not they are going to get to come to Aunt Millie's cookout. TRUST!! I have only taken 2 to see Aunt Millie, and one gave me my baby love and the other bought me a Blazer....WAIT!! That was the same one. And, oops, now that I think about it, I mighta thrown the bricks through my own ish one night at the club. So, you see what I mean? Getting to Auntie Millie's is like Survivor, Chapter 10, Paragraph 3.."How to make it to the Family Picnic and not have to pay child support and a car note before you go."
To make it so bad, these texts and coochy clicks were coming from chicks with names like, "Lil Mama, Keep It Wet, Shake It Down, Bay-Bay, Punkin and Pookie." Well, as far as I was concerned, he could have Lil Mama and Bay-Bay and nem. I was up! My name was picked by my father for its meaning, beautiful in Spanish, not from action verbs and Halloween patches. I could not bring myself to compete with these heifers. I JUST COULD NOT. Honeybabychile, I was like, "Playa, I ain't madatcha, but I ain't trying to hear dat there, neither. I gots ta go, lemme get my coat. See ya and don't wanna be one of them brokeback mountainback, nasty ass black hole models." It was like, "Ok, whatever." with them. NO CLASS, PERIOD, end of story. That was easy. Still, I couldn't help but wonder (shout out to Carrie..SATC)....what kind of man has chicks snap their money maker and send it thru cell towers with no change returned? Is that why my phone drops in the LSD curve and when I go down 63rd street? What happens if he loses his phone? Would another brotha be able to identify them in a lineup? What would Jesus do? And, last but not least, I KNOW this motha fuka don't think I'm gone send him a picture of the Underground Railroad my baby came thru!!! EWWWWW!!!! Nasty him and her beeyotches downstairs!!!
Now, I am sure you prolly have enough background to connect the dots to our topic for the day. Soooo, back to the present...we are now cool, and I like it that. I will admit I slipped off the welcome wagon once and got a hit because the doc said I had to watch my mercury level. Can you say BIG MISTAKE?!! I shoulda just explained to Security at the County that I didn't have no knife when I was there to see Junebug and Raoul. The metal detectors were "Dead Wrong...B.I.G" I shoulda let them know I sometimes get a little overexcited with my pet, Rabbit....and that my doc said I would soon be involuntarily launched to the moon, if I did not find another more constructive, less electrical way to entertain myself, thus the static in their radio and police scanners. SMH AGAIN...Ya knows I shoulda took the dayum trip to the moon, right? INSTEAD of relaunching his spaceship and crashing in The Dead and Shoulda Been Thru With Sea. Ummm, hmmm...that chile has been whining ever since. My ears are going ring, ding, dong, ring, da ding, ding, ding dong...shout out to Dr. Dre with his swole grown ass!! "Keep Their Heads Ringin" I'm like, "Will you please STFU?!!" I used to try and shoot the ish with him, but I can't now. It is just too irritating, makes me have uncontrollable tics and stuff. He just keeps on calling and texts like a mad man because "I Refuse...The Late and Great, Aaliyah" to answer. And anyway, what happen to Tank after they tasered his ass? Wasn't he and babygirl on the same label, Blackground, her uncle's? You know they trying to say on Bossip she usta be a jump-off for Dame Dash and Jay-Z?
Ok, lost track..sorry...MM keeps asking this one question I FUKN HATE, DESPISE, AND LOATHE!! I cannot stand to hear nobody say it NEVA NOT NEVA EVA AGAIN, especially him. But all day long, all day strong, no matter the weather, he always goes, "Can I see you?" No "You wanna go to the movies?" or "How bout dinner and dancing?" Nurp!! Not him. Lawd, when I hear that question, I start convulsing and speaking in tongue like you done took my MAC Oh Baby lipglass. And we know how dat turn out? Guns, wine bottles, bobby pins, doo-rags, shoes and cooking utensils get to flying. I want to say and unfortunately, sometimes I do, "Do a drive-by, you lil fukr and look to the left, to the left. You will SEE me waving my hand and patting my shot glass holder for you to kiss as I "Walk on By...Black Moses, Isaac or Psychic Dionne...depends on which generation you come from...Me? Black Moses Grandkid all the way." I wouldn't be so hard on him if it was not completely true. When MM says he wants to see you....THAT is EXACTLY da fuk what he is talking about!!!...seeing you while sitting there looking at you upside yo head until you get so bored you give him some to pass the time away.
So, my point is, after all of this on "Coochy Coupons"....Why do men feel like once they get a hit, they can always go to bat or use their bat on you forever? Even the major leagues have new seasons every year. How come some don't realize that the season has changed and their asses have been benched? And, should you ever re-hit a once promising, but now, petulant old Busta just because you sometimes cause electrical shocks and produce lightning bolts in the rain?
WHAT MAKES HIM THINK HE HAVE A LIFETIME MEMBERSHIP TO MY SUNSHINE?
Does he think I am his own personal tanning bed and required to tan and tap dat ass for life?
And why this motha fuka ain't got sense enough to know that you gotta go outside SOMETIME? It ain't even that he can't go, he don't wanna go. I ain't mad at him at all, that is just fine, UNTIL the sorry motha fuka calls me!! My blood just boils because I done told him. If Lil Mama and 'nem like it, so be it. Just stop calling me with that weak ass game and then whining while you spitting it!! How bout dat?? Dayum shame I would rather go thru Crack Cockatoo Libido Limbo than even listen to him. SHEESH!
Ok, Busta with yo whining ass!! Your Coochy Coupon has expired, done, finito. Over here, we only take manufacturer's coupons not copies or reproductions of what a coupon should be like or given to a Busta who look like what a man should look like but don't act like. Yo Mama didn't teach yo ass nothing, did she? You MUST understand...I will never "Play Another Slow Jam....Atlantic Starr and Monica and Ursha, again depending on which generation you from...Me? Shining with the Starr" for you. Before you, Mississippi Mud, EVER get a whiff of a sniff you better know, "some Marvin Gave, some Luther Vandross, a little Anita, will definitely set this party off right...Jamie Foxx and Twista, new generation Slow Jam." AND THEN AGAIN...NOT!
Note to self: ALWAYS be painfully aware of whining tendencies of former jump-offs and act accordingly, as in act a fool accordingly every time they contact you. Do not, I REPEAT, DO NOT, entertain them for fear of nervous breakdown and ultimately, the good probability of an Ida B. Wells-Dearborn Homes cuss out before said nervous breakdown. Do NOT fear retribution, because if they are whining, who gives a fuk? They don't scare nobody no ways.
And, until this supercalicrazystupidaafoolywangadocious is resolved, I'm single again, back on the prowl, I thought it was perfect, I don't know WHY??....Gone on, Trina!!!!
"HOT LIKE FIYAH".......To my fellow Capricorn, Aaliyah...RIP"
