My father got married this weekend in the Bahamas to his second wife. As far as I can tell, he chose much better this time. She's classy, pretty, a good mom, very professional and has a very positive demeanor. I like her. My dad told me he was engaged early in June. We don't have the best relationship so I'm pretty sure they've been engaged for considerably longer and he just chose to tell me now. I didn't attend the wedding, neither did any of my family members. But that's how my dad rolls, I'm jut glad he found someone to be happy with.
My mother has been married for 18 years now. It's kind of mind boggling to believe that it's been that long. She will be the first to tell you that she's a happily married woman. She honestly is.
So where am I going with this? Well, both of my parents are married and involved in long distance relationships with their spouses. My father has been dating his new wife for a couple years now. She lives in Jamaica with her preteen daughter, my dad lives up here in the GTA with my 8 year old brother. They have been flying back and forth to see each other and speak to each other multiple times a day. My mother lived with her husband for the initial 3-4 years of their marriage then moved to a different city for work. She still goes to spend time with him and every 2 weeks they spend the weekend together.
Imagine that. One long distance dating relationship that resulted in marriage and one long distance marriage that has lasted 18 years despite the distance. I jokingly asked my mom if her and my father were trying to permanently scar my perception of romance, then I got to wondering how I actually felt about it.
Of course, a long distance relationship is only for the very strong hearted. This is a partnership that has no room for insecurity. You have to be very comfortable within yourself to be able to survive the day to day life without physically seeing of touching the person you love. Only hearing their voice, reading their messages is a hard way to love. We have Skype ad FaceTime now which I'm sure helps as far as seeing their face (or more if you're into the webcam sex shit).
The main subject that pops up when discussing long distance relationships is fidelity. The fear that while you're so far away from them, they could be with someone else. Of course the possibility is there, but let's be real; you could live next door to your man/girl and they could still be cheating.
I'm the type of person who gets bored with my company easily. I need time away to miss you! If you're always in my face, always at my crib, always at the club, always in my space.... You're gonna get cut. I guarantee it. So a long distance relationship doesn't sound like a terrible idea to me at all.
Neither of my parents are dependent on the company of others. My father is easily annoyed by people who don't understand his many quirks and abstract idiosyncrasies, and my mother is just like me when it comes to being social; she'll do it when she has to or the odd time she's lonely. Otherwise she'll tell you to piss off. Perhaps that's (definitely) where I got both those traits from.
Point is, they're both cut out for long distance relationships. When they're with their spouse they enjoy every moment and long to see them when they leave. When they're each on their own they're perfectly content to just chill out until the next flight or 2 hr drive.
My mother has been happy for 18 years and my father has found his happiness now. They're two perfect examples of how a long distance relationship can be successful. Don't rule it out as an option before trying. Technology has made the world smaller, this is one of the many ways it can bring us closer.
The Articulate Bitch
Thursday, 26 July 2012
Rich Dick Poor Dick
The topic of rich dick arose on twitter the other night. I commented so much I figured I should write a full length post. 140 characters x 10 is a lot of opinion.
Last year I went to spend a month in Florida with my mom. It was literally just to get away and chill. However my mother doesn't ever stop working, so I had a lot of time on my hands. My mom would go to work, I'd sit on her balcony/self-made mini porch and smoke with a screwdriver or mimosa in hand every morning. This is where my adventure started with who I call the 4 gentlemen. The 4 Gentlemen convinced me in one month that I never wanted to fuck with a broke nigga again. Here's how...
Gentleman 1 - The Neighbour
He would be walking his dogs early in the morning and see me posted with my drink and cigarette. After seeing me a couple mornings in a row he asks me to come down & smoke with him. This became my morning ritual. Every morning, he walks his dogs, I drink, then we smoke by the pool. The weed was average, the company was great. Real cool dude, never asked me for a damn thing and even took me out for breakfast sometimes. No sense of entitlement.
Gentleman 2 - Ghetto Dude
I met this super ghetto West Palm
Beach County dude when I was grabbing cigarettes from the gas station one day. This nigga was too hood to function. Had he not been so damn cute with his dreads, tattoos, wife beater, grills and that damn Dodge Charger I would never have spoken to him. Turned out he was a nice guy, but I swear I needed subtitles when he was talking sometimes. There's accent, and then there's what this nigga had. He didn't take me to breakfast, but he brought me to have dinner at his house on his sister's birthday. His mom can THROW DOWN! He was great at keeping me occupied. Brought me to the gun range once and we even grabbed wings a couple times at some strip clubs. He did all those things with a smile and without a single complaint.
Gentleman 3- Working Man
Number three was most like a TDot nigga, in that he worked an actual legal job. He took me away for the weekend, we ate great food caught mad jokes, genuinely had a good time with this dude. He's the eldest and most established of the gentlemen, which allowed me to appreciate his maturity. Never asked for anything but took care of me. I can appreciate that.
Gentleman 4 - Mr Spender
I met Mr Spender close to the end of my trip. Obviously I wished I met him earlier. Mr Spender was very materialistic, a little shallow but very sweet if he was interested. His name kinda sums it up. If I wanted it he bought it. If I wanted to go somewhere, he brought me. If I wanted to eat something he got it for me. Great guy.
I came back to Toronto and felt like I had stepped in shit. Yeah, I know. But I was treated like a princess in the south. Dudes were willing to do nice things to get to know me, and they never complained because to them it's just part of the process. Before I continue, I feel the need to say I did NOT, in fact have sex with all 4 gentlemen. Only one. It wasn't Mr Spender either.
You know what comes with poor dick? A great personality, time they're willing to spend (since they ain't got money), and stress. Why stress? Because they gotta worry where their next dollar is coming from. They don't share that stress all the time, but when they do it's an avalanche of self pity. Now you as a female gotta babysit this niggaz feelings and reassure him. Broke dick is usually so good though, it frustrates you into letting the moths in his pockets live.
I like dudes with money. Any girl comfortable enough to be honest does. I don't like them or want them because they'll spend it, that's nearly irrelevant. They're going to spend it regardless. If they're with you guess what they'll spend it on. Exactly. I like them because having money shows character. It shows you have to work to get it. You have ambition, motivation, perseverence, determination. Those are things I look for in a dude.
A dude with money also has a schedule. Shit he HAS to do. So you'll hear from him when he's got the time. His time means so much more because he barely has any to give. He's got to TAKE TIME OUT for you. That means something. A broke nigga has all the time in the world, and uses that time to do unproductive shit, wallow in self-pity, and bother you with his insecurities. I'm not down.
I'm not saying you should only want a dude with money, but want him for the right reasons. Dudes with money also have egos, attitudes and many times a sense of entitlement once they've come to a certain point with you. If you got a broke man, be his motivation to do and be better. If he's a lazy bum who complains but never acts, you make changes.
Relationships are meant to be mutually beneficial. No one party should be giving all and receiving none.
The Articulate Bitch
Last year I went to spend a month in Florida with my mom. It was literally just to get away and chill. However my mother doesn't ever stop working, so I had a lot of time on my hands. My mom would go to work, I'd sit on her balcony/self-made mini porch and smoke with a screwdriver or mimosa in hand every morning. This is where my adventure started with who I call the 4 gentlemen. The 4 Gentlemen convinced me in one month that I never wanted to fuck with a broke nigga again. Here's how...
Gentleman 1 - The Neighbour
He would be walking his dogs early in the morning and see me posted with my drink and cigarette. After seeing me a couple mornings in a row he asks me to come down & smoke with him. This became my morning ritual. Every morning, he walks his dogs, I drink, then we smoke by the pool. The weed was average, the company was great. Real cool dude, never asked me for a damn thing and even took me out for breakfast sometimes. No sense of entitlement.
Gentleman 2 - Ghetto Dude
I met this super ghetto West Palm
Beach County dude when I was grabbing cigarettes from the gas station one day. This nigga was too hood to function. Had he not been so damn cute with his dreads, tattoos, wife beater, grills and that damn Dodge Charger I would never have spoken to him. Turned out he was a nice guy, but I swear I needed subtitles when he was talking sometimes. There's accent, and then there's what this nigga had. He didn't take me to breakfast, but he brought me to have dinner at his house on his sister's birthday. His mom can THROW DOWN! He was great at keeping me occupied. Brought me to the gun range once and we even grabbed wings a couple times at some strip clubs. He did all those things with a smile and without a single complaint.
Gentleman 3- Working Man
Number three was most like a TDot nigga, in that he worked an actual legal job. He took me away for the weekend, we ate great food caught mad jokes, genuinely had a good time with this dude. He's the eldest and most established of the gentlemen, which allowed me to appreciate his maturity. Never asked for anything but took care of me. I can appreciate that.
Gentleman 4 - Mr Spender
I met Mr Spender close to the end of my trip. Obviously I wished I met him earlier. Mr Spender was very materialistic, a little shallow but very sweet if he was interested. His name kinda sums it up. If I wanted it he bought it. If I wanted to go somewhere, he brought me. If I wanted to eat something he got it for me. Great guy.
I came back to Toronto and felt like I had stepped in shit. Yeah, I know. But I was treated like a princess in the south. Dudes were willing to do nice things to get to know me, and they never complained because to them it's just part of the process. Before I continue, I feel the need to say I did NOT, in fact have sex with all 4 gentlemen. Only one. It wasn't Mr Spender either.
You know what comes with poor dick? A great personality, time they're willing to spend (since they ain't got money), and stress. Why stress? Because they gotta worry where their next dollar is coming from. They don't share that stress all the time, but when they do it's an avalanche of self pity. Now you as a female gotta babysit this niggaz feelings and reassure him. Broke dick is usually so good though, it frustrates you into letting the moths in his pockets live.
I like dudes with money. Any girl comfortable enough to be honest does. I don't like them or want them because they'll spend it, that's nearly irrelevant. They're going to spend it regardless. If they're with you guess what they'll spend it on. Exactly. I like them because having money shows character. It shows you have to work to get it. You have ambition, motivation, perseverence, determination. Those are things I look for in a dude.
A dude with money also has a schedule. Shit he HAS to do. So you'll hear from him when he's got the time. His time means so much more because he barely has any to give. He's got to TAKE TIME OUT for you. That means something. A broke nigga has all the time in the world, and uses that time to do unproductive shit, wallow in self-pity, and bother you with his insecurities. I'm not down.
I'm not saying you should only want a dude with money, but want him for the right reasons. Dudes with money also have egos, attitudes and many times a sense of entitlement once they've come to a certain point with you. If you got a broke man, be his motivation to do and be better. If he's a lazy bum who complains but never acts, you make changes.
Relationships are meant to be mutually beneficial. No one party should be giving all and receiving none.
The Articulate Bitch
Club Chronicles pt13
Like a missing floor...
So, in an attempt to preserve my sanity, I've reduced my 4 day party weekend to just my Thursdays. Don't u dare for second think that there won't be content though. Dumb club shit follows where ever dark atmosphere, alcohol and loud music may follow.
I don't know if this only happens to me, but I don't see why it wouldn't happen to anyone else. I can't stand going out and having a dude feel like he can talk to me any typa way just because he has me on Facebook or twitter. Niggaz will strut up to you and act like you dissed them cuz you ain't say 'hi'. News flash: nigga, I DON'T KNOW YOU. No, I don't recognize you from your avi without the corner store Versace locs and gangster screw face. Then, once you have established how unfamiliar they really are to you, these niggaz press the convo. Stop it. If you can't thirst online like a normal social-network-obsessed person, stop hunting girls down in the club asking them "so what... You don't remember me? I liked your bathing suit pic on instagram," boy please. If you ARE gonna approach someone you recognize from your online world, change your approach. Assume they don't know you, since technically they don't. Reintroduce yourself, and above all, be polite. You'd be surprised how much further you'll get.
I love showing off my city. I walk around the downtown core and see visitors and tourists all the time enjoying the things Toronto has to offer. But there may be nothing we are known for more than our women. It's true, being as multicultural as we are, we have some of the most beautiful ladies here. These states niggaz know this. Every rapper, singer, designer and artist knows this. So naturally while visiting our city the goal is to nail some TDot vag. Fine, do your thing. But stop coming out to our parties and turning the thirst knob past critical levels in the quest for the illustrious Toronto pussy. Yes, we like your accent, but we've heard it before. Yes, we've been to the states before. Yes, we like living here. Blaaaaah blaaaaah blaaaaah. Christ. I get asked the same questions every time. Pace yourself, show some restraint and finesse your way through game and you might just get what you're after.
It's no surprise that females get sloppy drunk every weekend. Someone always ends up falling over themselves completely unable to control their movements and speech. So for the dudes who come to the club looking for take-home pussy, leave the sloppy drunk hoes alone. Do you know how suspect you look trying to spit game to shorty while you help her walk? It's creepy. It looks like date rape waiting to happen. I feel like a witness. If you have to stoop so low as to settle for drunk pussy, you're a loser. Point, blank, period.
It's Thursday, tonite we turn up.
The Articulate Bitch
So, in an attempt to preserve my sanity, I've reduced my 4 day party weekend to just my Thursdays. Don't u dare for second think that there won't be content though. Dumb club shit follows where ever dark atmosphere, alcohol and loud music may follow.
I don't know if this only happens to me, but I don't see why it wouldn't happen to anyone else. I can't stand going out and having a dude feel like he can talk to me any typa way just because he has me on Facebook or twitter. Niggaz will strut up to you and act like you dissed them cuz you ain't say 'hi'. News flash: nigga, I DON'T KNOW YOU. No, I don't recognize you from your avi without the corner store Versace locs and gangster screw face. Then, once you have established how unfamiliar they really are to you, these niggaz press the convo. Stop it. If you can't thirst online like a normal social-network-obsessed person, stop hunting girls down in the club asking them "so what... You don't remember me? I liked your bathing suit pic on instagram," boy please. If you ARE gonna approach someone you recognize from your online world, change your approach. Assume they don't know you, since technically they don't. Reintroduce yourself, and above all, be polite. You'd be surprised how much further you'll get.
I love showing off my city. I walk around the downtown core and see visitors and tourists all the time enjoying the things Toronto has to offer. But there may be nothing we are known for more than our women. It's true, being as multicultural as we are, we have some of the most beautiful ladies here. These states niggaz know this. Every rapper, singer, designer and artist knows this. So naturally while visiting our city the goal is to nail some TDot vag. Fine, do your thing. But stop coming out to our parties and turning the thirst knob past critical levels in the quest for the illustrious Toronto pussy. Yes, we like your accent, but we've heard it before. Yes, we've been to the states before. Yes, we like living here. Blaaaaah blaaaaah blaaaaah. Christ. I get asked the same questions every time. Pace yourself, show some restraint and finesse your way through game and you might just get what you're after.
It's no surprise that females get sloppy drunk every weekend. Someone always ends up falling over themselves completely unable to control their movements and speech. So for the dudes who come to the club looking for take-home pussy, leave the sloppy drunk hoes alone. Do you know how suspect you look trying to spit game to shorty while you help her walk? It's creepy. It looks like date rape waiting to happen. I feel like a witness. If you have to stoop so low as to settle for drunk pussy, you're a loser. Point, blank, period.
It's Thursday, tonite we turn up.
The Articulate Bitch
Things I Hate About Sex
Sex is so fun. There are so many different ways to enjoy it. But what about the aspects of sex we don't like? These things exist, I'm sure we all know. Here's a few of the things that I could do without, when it comes to sex.
Pubes. I hate them. I hate the process of removing them too. Changing positions in the shower to shave your cooka, being mildly molested by your wax lady, taking risks with hair removing chemicals. Ugh. I hate it all. But it's necessary. Fellas, some of y'all could be a little more considerate and do a little manscaping too. No one likes pube floss. No one.
Condoms. Yes, necessary evil. I'm all for safe sex so I really just find ways to tolerate these complaints. For one, I hate when niggaz show up with old condoms. The lube has dried out, the damn thing expires in 6 months and the rapper is crinkly and worn out. It's ugly. I also hate dudes not buying their size. Gold wrappers aren't for everyone!!!! But my number one complaint about condoms is that god awful latex & skin & juices smell. OH MY GAWD! It's horrible. It smells like WTF. I'm still trying to understand why it's so gross. Flavored condoms are just as bad! Fuck you mean it tastes like strawberry but my room still smells like WTF. I'm mad. Like I said, necessary evil. Wrap it up.
Sex injuries. This is supposed to be a carefree, feel-good activity. Why do I need to be injured in the process? Why do I need rug burn, a pulled muscle, internal bleeding, a cocoa on my head from the headboard/wall, or any other painful injury? Why? For some reason it seems that whatever causes us pain, makes dudes feel great. I don't appreciate that at all.
There's a few... There will be more!
The Articulate Bitch
Pubes. I hate them. I hate the process of removing them too. Changing positions in the shower to shave your cooka, being mildly molested by your wax lady, taking risks with hair removing chemicals. Ugh. I hate it all. But it's necessary. Fellas, some of y'all could be a little more considerate and do a little manscaping too. No one likes pube floss. No one.
Condoms. Yes, necessary evil. I'm all for safe sex so I really just find ways to tolerate these complaints. For one, I hate when niggaz show up with old condoms. The lube has dried out, the damn thing expires in 6 months and the rapper is crinkly and worn out. It's ugly. I also hate dudes not buying their size. Gold wrappers aren't for everyone!!!! But my number one complaint about condoms is that god awful latex & skin & juices smell. OH MY GAWD! It's horrible. It smells like WTF. I'm still trying to understand why it's so gross. Flavored condoms are just as bad! Fuck you mean it tastes like strawberry but my room still smells like WTF. I'm mad. Like I said, necessary evil. Wrap it up.
Sex injuries. This is supposed to be a carefree, feel-good activity. Why do I need to be injured in the process? Why do I need rug burn, a pulled muscle, internal bleeding, a cocoa on my head from the headboard/wall, or any other painful injury? Why? For some reason it seems that whatever causes us pain, makes dudes feel great. I don't appreciate that at all.
There's a few... There will be more!
The Articulate Bitch
Kush Talk w/Jamz
I'm bout to spark this... One sec.
*le exhale*
Okay so... Very often when females stop being friends, guys shake their heads and think to themselves "I've had the same friends since forever,". They don't understand the fine differences when it comes to females and same sex friendships.
You wanna know what the root of evil is between female friends? Jealousy. Secret envy. It is very rarely something that is made known or is obvious (especially to the involved parties). Ladies are nodding their heads already. I know. Trust me. The next bitch can't stand that you might be doing something she can't do, for whatever reason. Maybe that bitch don't like that you can fill out a dress better than her. Maybe she don't like that you are more educated than her. Maybe she don't like that you got yourself a good man and hers is battery operated. Whatever it is, and it's always something, it makes that bitch so insecure she can't even be a real bitch about it and just tell you. So she keeps it to herself and secretly hates you for it the entire time.
Girls get into arguments and one side always says "selfish bitch". You know why? Because someone was probably being a selfish bitch. Someone was acting like everything was cool and taking their friend for a ride then something came up where the level of selfishness was so high it caused a problem. One friend is always the fed up one. The one who has been tolerating bullshit the whole time. It's usually the one arguing with the jealous bitch. Worse if the jealous bitch is the selfish bitch (which she usually is because the other bitch secretly knows the jealous bitch is envious), you've now got one angry, somewhat delusional, selfish, jealous, irrational, oh-my-god-why-can't-I-slap-this bitch on your hands.
This bitch is so insecure her arguments to you don't even have anything to do with the actual problem. You spend half argument part laughing part speechless. Like... Can we stay on topic you spastic cunt? Shit.
I don't argue. I have a way with words and I'm all about accuracy and evidence so when I argue it's a well stated, educated and informed debate. And if I'm going to take the time to argue its because I believe I'm right. And if I believe I'm right, more often than not... It's because I am. So arguing is pointless. Matter of fact it's not even an argument with me. It's "you're whyling and instead of being petty like you I'm gonna prove my point,". I don't even swear in arguments. I don't get involved in emotional altercations because 9 times outta 10 I don't care so I can't play on the emotional frontlines without emotional responses. Fuck. I know.
Dudes don't have this problem because only bitch niggaz are jealous of their homies. Dudes in general would rather use the successes of their homies to motivate them to better themselves. It's compete not defeat. Girls are crabs in a bucket, dragging the better bitch down only to be dragged down themselves by the next bitch. Vicious cycle.
I hate girls sometimes.
The Articulate Bitch
*le exhale*
Okay so... Very often when females stop being friends, guys shake their heads and think to themselves "I've had the same friends since forever,". They don't understand the fine differences when it comes to females and same sex friendships.
You wanna know what the root of evil is between female friends? Jealousy. Secret envy. It is very rarely something that is made known or is obvious (especially to the involved parties). Ladies are nodding their heads already. I know. Trust me. The next bitch can't stand that you might be doing something she can't do, for whatever reason. Maybe that bitch don't like that you can fill out a dress better than her. Maybe she don't like that you are more educated than her. Maybe she don't like that you got yourself a good man and hers is battery operated. Whatever it is, and it's always something, it makes that bitch so insecure she can't even be a real bitch about it and just tell you. So she keeps it to herself and secretly hates you for it the entire time.
Girls get into arguments and one side always says "selfish bitch". You know why? Because someone was probably being a selfish bitch. Someone was acting like everything was cool and taking their friend for a ride then something came up where the level of selfishness was so high it caused a problem. One friend is always the fed up one. The one who has been tolerating bullshit the whole time. It's usually the one arguing with the jealous bitch. Worse if the jealous bitch is the selfish bitch (which she usually is because the other bitch secretly knows the jealous bitch is envious), you've now got one angry, somewhat delusional, selfish, jealous, irrational, oh-my-god-why-can't-I-slap-this bitch on your hands.
This bitch is so insecure her arguments to you don't even have anything to do with the actual problem. You spend half argument part laughing part speechless. Like... Can we stay on topic you spastic cunt? Shit.
I don't argue. I have a way with words and I'm all about accuracy and evidence so when I argue it's a well stated, educated and informed debate. And if I'm going to take the time to argue its because I believe I'm right. And if I believe I'm right, more often than not... It's because I am. So arguing is pointless. Matter of fact it's not even an argument with me. It's "you're whyling and instead of being petty like you I'm gonna prove my point,". I don't even swear in arguments. I don't get involved in emotional altercations because 9 times outta 10 I don't care so I can't play on the emotional frontlines without emotional responses. Fuck. I know.
Dudes don't have this problem because only bitch niggaz are jealous of their homies. Dudes in general would rather use the successes of their homies to motivate them to better themselves. It's compete not defeat. Girls are crabs in a bucket, dragging the better bitch down only to be dragged down themselves by the next bitch. Vicious cycle.
I hate girls sometimes.
The Articulate Bitch
Tuesday, 17 July 2012
Club Chronicles pt12
Like a box of Krispy Kreme donuts....
I know a lot of the shit I rant about in club chronicles got people thinking the things I say should be common knowledge, but I'd run out of material if it was. So here comes number twelve.
I know lining up with a bunch of frustrated bitches in heels isn't pleasant. I know. What I DON'T know is why you post up in line to complain about how long the line is. There's nothing wrong with a couple "holy shit"s and a few exasperated sighs, but some of y'all take it too far with the belly-achin'. You know regardless if it takes an hour for you to inch your way to the door you're going to stay in line. So cut it out. And stop getting mad at all the people who networked their way to NOT having to wait in line. Can we live? Believe me, we've done our fair share of waiting.
Speaking of lines.... There are the odd nights when I spend some time outside chatting with folks and witness some strange shit. Like arguing with bouncers. Who does that? They're the ones in charge of letting people in, so why are you standing at the door arguing with them about getting in? "The club is at capacity," seems like the main phrase people have the most trouble with. It's like they think security is telling tales. More people = more money, what makes you think they're turning you away for any other reason than capacity? Does this huge dude with a flashlight and gloves on know you personally? Y'all got beef? If not, take their word for it, be sad, and vamoose. The argument you pick with the bouncers ain't getting you in. Trust me.
Folks, we are each in charge of our own lives and therefore our own fun. Don't hold anyone else responsible for your fun. You came after last call? That sucks, hope you brought weed. You came late and they locked off the door? Pray no one saw you and use that outfit for another party. Your flirty friend ditched you and is somewhere in a dark corner of the club with a nigga she just met? Hope you've got more friends in here. I don't have sympathy for people who knowingly do things and get pissed at the result. Certain actions have definite outcomes. Plan your partying effectively.
*Sigh* I don't believe I have to even say this next one. 'Cause in all honesty it's something you should already know. But like I said; if people didn't act silly in the club... We wouldn't have club chronicles. But I digress.
Niggaz, stop pullin' your money out in the club fake counting it for people to see. Fuck what you heard, that's how niggaz end up walking home with no shirt or shoes. Who are you trying to impress? The girls you're NOT tricking on or the niggaz preeing you that just so happened to get their straps in the club. Cut it he fuck out. You ever hear that made men don't make statements? Oh okay.
And in light of the recent commotion in my city let me talk to y'all real quick. All this gun shit needs to cut out. Y'all nothin' but loose cannon mother fuckers with bad aim and poor judgement. There's no need for all this thuggery. What happened to the days you had to be a real nigga and snuff a man in his face? Now y'all being SLOPPY tryinna shoot mans from a distance in a crowd of innocent people. People who don't give a fuck about you and will make statements to put you in jail. 23 people? Really? This shit is out of hand. Get it the fuck together. Y'all pussies for needing guns and dumb criminals for doing shit in the public. Fuck boys.
The Articulate Bitch
I know a lot of the shit I rant about in club chronicles got people thinking the things I say should be common knowledge, but I'd run out of material if it was. So here comes number twelve.
I know lining up with a bunch of frustrated bitches in heels isn't pleasant. I know. What I DON'T know is why you post up in line to complain about how long the line is. There's nothing wrong with a couple "holy shit"s and a few exasperated sighs, but some of y'all take it too far with the belly-achin'. You know regardless if it takes an hour for you to inch your way to the door you're going to stay in line. So cut it out. And stop getting mad at all the people who networked their way to NOT having to wait in line. Can we live? Believe me, we've done our fair share of waiting.
Speaking of lines.... There are the odd nights when I spend some time outside chatting with folks and witness some strange shit. Like arguing with bouncers. Who does that? They're the ones in charge of letting people in, so why are you standing at the door arguing with them about getting in? "The club is at capacity," seems like the main phrase people have the most trouble with. It's like they think security is telling tales. More people = more money, what makes you think they're turning you away for any other reason than capacity? Does this huge dude with a flashlight and gloves on know you personally? Y'all got beef? If not, take their word for it, be sad, and vamoose. The argument you pick with the bouncers ain't getting you in. Trust me.
Folks, we are each in charge of our own lives and therefore our own fun. Don't hold anyone else responsible for your fun. You came after last call? That sucks, hope you brought weed. You came late and they locked off the door? Pray no one saw you and use that outfit for another party. Your flirty friend ditched you and is somewhere in a dark corner of the club with a nigga she just met? Hope you've got more friends in here. I don't have sympathy for people who knowingly do things and get pissed at the result. Certain actions have definite outcomes. Plan your partying effectively.
*Sigh* I don't believe I have to even say this next one. 'Cause in all honesty it's something you should already know. But like I said; if people didn't act silly in the club... We wouldn't have club chronicles. But I digress.
Niggaz, stop pullin' your money out in the club fake counting it for people to see. Fuck what you heard, that's how niggaz end up walking home with no shirt or shoes. Who are you trying to impress? The girls you're NOT tricking on or the niggaz preeing you that just so happened to get their straps in the club. Cut it he fuck out. You ever hear that made men don't make statements? Oh okay.
And in light of the recent commotion in my city let me talk to y'all real quick. All this gun shit needs to cut out. Y'all nothin' but loose cannon mother fuckers with bad aim and poor judgement. There's no need for all this thuggery. What happened to the days you had to be a real nigga and snuff a man in his face? Now y'all being SLOPPY tryinna shoot mans from a distance in a crowd of innocent people. People who don't give a fuck about you and will make statements to put you in jail. 23 people? Really? This shit is out of hand. Get it the fuck together. Y'all pussies for needing guns and dumb criminals for doing shit in the public. Fuck boys.
The Articulate Bitch
Monday, 16 July 2012
Breakfast After Nut
Since my twitter went into uproar...
First of all, the reason I didn't put this on twitter is because all the people involved follow me. When you finish reading you'll understand. I feel the need to say "don't judge me" but I know y'all have done the same or worse so quite frankly I don't give a damn.
So one night I'm home chillin. His nigga hits me up to go check him. Now, I'm not one to travel for dick, but I'll damn sure travel for head (Yeah, I know. That's where the don't judge me part comes in). If you saw his lips you'd understand. But I digress...
So I fake blow him off, loaft like a shit head in my house doing all kinds of fuckery (I even washed, blow dried, flat ironed and shave my head... Shaves everything else too... Shwing!!!!) I was soooo bout wasting time. So it starts getting late, I finally quit the game and tell him I'm coming.
Some time later I get to where he's at. It's his friends house (see, again... Don't judge me). Smoke blah blah blah blah blaaaahhh.... So pow bam thank you ma'am this dude is the excellent dick I assumed he'd be and head game was .... I don't know if I have a sufficient word but I may have blacked out at one point or another. All I know is at one point I realized the sun was coming up.
So hours later, I get some sick morning sex the nut was un-fucking-believable. Yadda yadda dude tries to make breakfast but fucks up the French toast and I'm the French toast queen so I step in. Let's remember his homie about to become homieS are around.
Now I just wanted breakfast. But this nigga wants me to pull a waitress suzie and bring him his food.
-____-
At this point I'm practically on a hunger strike cuz I'm just soooo not bout this thing he's doing whatever it is. Hunger pains fam. I'm conducting a domestic protest and starving myself in the name of feminism and real nigganess.
Hours LITERALLY later, I'm like "fuck this. I have shit to do." so I cave and bring his royal fucking highness his food, box mine and cut.
I'M STILL SALTY ABOUT IT! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK.
My point is this: we fuck, you owe me a nut. There, I said it. I nut, I don't owe you breakfast unless we gooooo togetha. And most DEFINITELY not when your homies are around and it's the first time we fucked. *sigh*
Okay readers I'm gonna wait for the backlash now. There you have it.
The Articulate Bitch
First of all, the reason I didn't put this on twitter is because all the people involved follow me. When you finish reading you'll understand. I feel the need to say "don't judge me" but I know y'all have done the same or worse so quite frankly I don't give a damn.
So one night I'm home chillin. His nigga hits me up to go check him. Now, I'm not one to travel for dick, but I'll damn sure travel for head (Yeah, I know. That's where the don't judge me part comes in). If you saw his lips you'd understand. But I digress...
So I fake blow him off, loaft like a shit head in my house doing all kinds of fuckery (I even washed, blow dried, flat ironed and shave my head... Shaves everything else too... Shwing!!!!) I was soooo bout wasting time. So it starts getting late, I finally quit the game and tell him I'm coming.
Some time later I get to where he's at. It's his friends house (see, again... Don't judge me). Smoke blah blah blah blah blaaaahhh.... So pow bam thank you ma'am this dude is the excellent dick I assumed he'd be and head game was .... I don't know if I have a sufficient word but I may have blacked out at one point or another. All I know is at one point I realized the sun was coming up.
So hours later, I get some sick morning sex the nut was un-fucking-believable. Yadda yadda dude tries to make breakfast but fucks up the French toast and I'm the French toast queen so I step in. Let's remember his homie about to become homieS are around.
Now I just wanted breakfast. But this nigga wants me to pull a waitress suzie and bring him his food.
-____-
At this point I'm practically on a hunger strike cuz I'm just soooo not bout this thing he's doing whatever it is. Hunger pains fam. I'm conducting a domestic protest and starving myself in the name of feminism and real nigganess.
Hours LITERALLY later, I'm like "fuck this. I have shit to do." so I cave and bring his royal fucking highness his food, box mine and cut.
I'M STILL SALTY ABOUT IT! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK.
My point is this: we fuck, you owe me a nut. There, I said it. I nut, I don't owe you breakfast unless we gooooo togetha. And most DEFINITELY not when your homies are around and it's the first time we fucked. *sigh*
Okay readers I'm gonna wait for the backlash now. There you have it.
The Articulate Bitch
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