Mo'Nique

First, let me say that Mo'Nique is heinous!

With America's most lovable chocolate boulder recently winning an Oscar, it reminded me that I sent Mo'Nique a message via her official fan page a little over a year ago. I figured that since it stated that "yes, this message actually goes directly to Mo'Nique", it was worth my time to write. This was all spurred by that vile VH-1 with all it's quality trash television that makes us feel better about being us and not them. Need I remind you of the tragedy of New York?

that ain't yo pineapple

After watching the Flavor of Love Girls: Charm School Reunion show and seeing Gross'Nique try to step to Larissa like she was going to beat her ass, it made me want to dropkick Mo'Ni into a volcano.

notice the use of yards of gold pleather, above

That hog loves to get preachy. Ooh, that bitch gets preachy! Who that bitch needs to be preaching to is her airbrusher. Sheesh! I decided to go online and watch clips of the fight that could have been between Mo'Ni and Larissa's mom. They both looked like the before and the before picture. Humongous. So while surfing the web I came across the link to her official fan page and then decided to drop her a line. You know, one of those hey girl emails.

Mo'Nique or Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon of Lil Kim?

I basically went off on her. I had to comment on the fact that she starred in a movie called Phat Girlz and blabbering on about loving her water-globe figure but yet she's airbrushed on the cover as not to appear fat. Well, I mean, as fat. I love that the movie's tag line is "Her dreams are about to get a whole lot bigger". I don't want to know about a movie where to large Lindas find the men of their dreams. It's barely believable when a quirky young white actress finds love on film let alone a tug boat with a weave. I also went off about her TV show The Parkers starring the incorrigible Countess Vaughn as mother and daughter.

I was shocked when I never recieved a follow up email. I mean how rude! That frieghtliner didn't even have the common courtesy to at least write FUCK YOU or EAT SHIT. Nope. Nothing. That's alright though. I'll remember that.

her armpit looks like a hippo vagina

No sense in dwelling on the past but while I'm at it, what the hell happened to Raven Symone? P-U!

that's so Raven!

LITTLE DRAGON

I saw them the other night in Charlotte and I am pretty happy with that.



No, that Little Dragon, thems down there.

Conspiracy Theory

So I think I may be on to one of two things here. Hear me out. Both theories involve the incomparable Corey Haim. So recently, he died. Boy, I bet he'll be sorely missed.....by his creditors. [rim shot please] I jest, I jest. No but seriously, what a mess that one!

So we all don't remember Boner from Growing Pains right? He wasn't the bulimic one and he wasn't the one that went all Jesus-y and he was certainly no Joanna Kern. He played Mike's friend.

He committed suicide in a Vancouver park during the Olympics and honestly, it was the most press he had gotten in the past decade. So, this brings me to Corey Haim. I feel like he overdosed so he could trump Boner! Think about it, he was definitely more famous than boner (so to speak) and then all of a sudden there are news feeds on CNN about Boner everywhere. I'm sure that irked the star of License to Drive.

In an attempt to trump Boner, Corey decided to get his last respectable 15 minutes by drugging it out to the end. Feels like that's the case.

Second, Chastity Bono and Corey Haim are twins...

Not To Be Confused With...

I was out getting my "groove thang" on and I went up to the disc jockey and requested My Boo but there was some confusion as to who sings the damn song. It's Ghost Town Djs...

Which isn't the same as Quad City Djs...

and not to be confused with Hamster Village DJs...
and certainly not Donna Jo a.k.a. DJ Tanner

Momma Said...

My mom is known for her sage phrases and tantrums, at least, amongst her children. Mary-isms as we call them. Here are just a few such classics:

Damn you kids, every time I take one step forward, you push me two steps back.

Can't you see I'm on the PHONE?

Can never have anything nice with you kids!

Great, my 15 year old's pregnant! [just kidding. Sorry Reyna!]

But my all time favorite is:

The older, the dumber!

______________________________________

I found out from a friend today that someone he use to date is now a stripper. Ain't nothing worse than a male stripper, gay or straight. Of course, my friend is a perturbed by this hilarious revelation. There's a fine line between retail and the strip club. It's a gateway job. You're usually one folded shirt away from pounding your genitals on the stage while an old man/lady tosses a $2 bill at you all the while thinking, Am I pretty now daddy? So, in an attempt to channel my mother, I passed on some helpful words to him that someone should have told his old flame around the time he got the birds and the bees talk.

you Fuck a stripper, you don't BE a stripper!

That Ain'tcha Hooker!

So the first time I was confused for a prostitute I was 15 years old and illegally working in Los Angeles. I had landed a job at a nursery (plants not pampers) at La Brea and Santa Monica Boulevard doing menial labor. I must have made a lasting impression because only after one week they let me go. As I waited on the street corner adjacent to the nursery in broad daylight for my brother to come pick me I noticed a gentleman flashing his lights. I found it odd since it was daylight but then much to my surprise realized that I was standing next to some graffiti on the wall that read: SEX $75. After the shock of learning that some whore was making $75 for, at the very most, an hour of fun/crying had passed while I had made a mere $185 for a week's worth of hell, I realized that this "Joe" thought I was this genius prostitute entrepreneur. I hadn't even had sex yet but I was so smart at the age of 15 to know when someone wanted to pay me for it.

Twincest

Now that the Olympics are over I felt that I needed to touch on a subject that Vancouver brought to my attention. While sitting at the bar enjoying the Olympic figure skating I noticed that Scott Hamilton, America's Straight Ice Sweetheart from the 80's, has taken up as an FSJ (Figure Skating Jockey) for NBC. At first. I thought Scott Hamilton looked like Uncle Fester but then I heard his voice. Yikes! He sounds like he's been castrated. Then as if a lightbulb lit above my head it dawned on me, this guy is just like Marshall Applewhite, the Heaven's Gate cult leader. So here's to you brother's from another mother! Too bad the one that wasn't castrated is the one that sounds like he was.

Drunk Poetry

So after some stumbles and then a rumble in the streets of Charleston I penned a modern classic a few months ago.

Possum Cat

I walk into the kitchen much later than I should be.

Table center.

Pantry bureau to the south.

Home to the kitchen's most intriguing ingredients.

Rod, full of PB & J.

Bitters bottle looks like people.

Three shelves high make it so.

Sitting here crazy when he makes himself crazy, for a PB & J fool.

That's love.

Broken hand #3.

Anger or Passion?

Either way recovery ain't free.

Hurts my bones and my wallet.