A taste of fresh banana puddin'

I Died

2010-07-27T00:56:00.000-07:00

I hate to see Heidi cry, again, but obviously this blog has no more life to it. I've moved on and over to tumblr. I still don't really know how to work the damn thing, but if any of you are interested in some short stories on my life about alcohol and regret, here's the link...

Would you rather...

2010-05-11T23:22:00.000-07:00

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

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

...or have a baby with Kelis?

F*ck Me and Tell Your Friends

2010-05-04T20:04:00.000-07:00

Guest Writer: Bob and His Penis

It was my senior year in college, and I was living the good life. I’m active in my fraternity, my grades are good, I live comfortably, and the party life yielded its ultimate reward; pussy. I was getting so much ass, never did I have a need to masturbate.

If I wanted head, I called the knob slobber. If I wanted a fat ass, I called thick ems. And if I wanted lovin, I called the pseudo wifey. Or, I could go diving into the pool of groupies, closet freaks, lesbians, and big and tasties (I sorta have a fat fetish. Dunno why, just do)

To continue on, it was around 2 AM a couple days before my 22^nd birthday. I was a computer science major, so I was up doing programming homework and playing Call of Duty on my PC. Ring Ring Ring…

Me: “Hey Susan* wassup”

Susan: “My homegirl wants to fuck you and have a threesome. You down?”

Me: “Very funny Susan. Tell Janet* I said hi, and I’m going to finish my work” click

Ring Ring Ring…

Me: “Yessss Susan?” I’m irritated now. Doesn’t she know that this game is important? That my homework is due at 11 the next morning?

Susan: “Why’d you hang up? We’re serious. You want some pussy or not?”

Here we go! I thought. She’s either playing or serious. Either way, I win (I was currently sleeping with Susan on a regular basis. She was the pseudo wifey)

Me: “Sure Susan. Be here in 10 minutes or I’m going to sleep.” -Reality being I would probably stay up for another hour, roam the halls, and look for someone to “chill with” aka bone and grope. Susan and Janet showed up in 6 minutes.

We have some cordial conversation, joke about parties and school, and then go to the bedroom. I take off Susan’s clothes first, trying to gauge Janet’s reactions. She takes my bottle of E&J out the fridge, says “ummmm, can we take some shots horny bastards?” We laugh, take a couple of shots, and everyone gets naked.

I tell Janet that she has to prove she’s not playing by stepping up to the mic (yes it was wack. So shoot me, let’s see how smooth you are with shots of E&J in your system.) Janet starts giving me head. Susan moves Janet to the side, and joins her. For the first time in my life, I am living my imaginary porno; two girls giving me head at once. I feel myself about to nut so move away to compose myself.

I go to my drawer to put on a condom, so my back is turned to the girls. When I turn around, Janet is eating Susan’s pussy on the bed. I start cheesing, creep behind Janet, look Susan in the eye (she smirks) and stick my dick in Janet, who immediately places her hand on my stomach. I start slowly at first, but the liquor and excitement has me on retard mode, so I'm eventually thrusting like a mad man. I’m fucking hard and fast like a man possessed by demons and the finest of the finest crack cocaine. Janet stops slurping, starts moaning, then starts yelling “fuck me nigga! You better not get soft! Fuck me nigga! Get that pussy!”

Now I’ve been with aggressive women. But two aggressive women goes from excitement to well, fear after too much aggression. Throughout the night (it’s a blur after the aforementioned moments) I’m eating two girls out at once, licking toes, getting every fluid possible on either my groin and my face, and eventually picking up Janet, putting her on my shoulders, and slurping like a pothead with cotton mouth. I nutted 3 times and passed out.

I dunno what it’s called when everyone is giving and getting oral, but I do know that it felt good (except for getting sprayed with female ejaculate on my nose. Maybe I should listen when a woman is trying to move away while I’m eating her out. Fuck it, I liked it. Yes, I am a nasty man.)

We all pass out on my bed around 4(it’s a supertwin. Not too much room, thank goodness they weren’t big and tasties. Susan was a thickem though.). The girls leave my dorm room around 5. The next morning, everyone in operations research asked me how my threesome was the night before; Janet spent the entire morning telling everyone that she had a threesome with Bob the Alpha the night before.

I still exist!

2010-05-03T11:05:00.000-07:00

Damn. I've neglected this blog. Like Lindsay's parents did her... *sigh*

Find me here.

MsP

Paula Patton is offended, are you?

2010-03-04T13:55:00.000-08:00

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.

Beige people still causing havoc in 2010

2010-02-16T22:45:00.000-08:00

I was in San Francisco a couple weeks ago and I met this guy, (we’ll call him Luke), who was from Philadelphia. In the midst of our conversation I made a joke about somebody once telling me I resembled Prince. Luke then claimed that he had never heard of Prince prior to watching select episodes of the Dave Chappelle Show.

He also didn’t get my joke :(

I was stunned and refused to believe this nonsense. Who are you and what planet do you live on where short mystical beige people with musical talent elude your existence? How shameful.

However, not too soon after my shock wore off, he rebutted me with, “We’ll have you ever heard of Jim Morrison?” The name sounded familiar, but I’m not going to lie, I had to Google before I was like, “Oh yeah, THAT white guy.”

And of course, this launched a debate.

For a brief moment it was very important for the both of us to justify why the other person’s idol was so elusive. Yes, Luke is white and I’m half black. And although it shouldn’t matter it still remains relevant.

I wondered could the only common ground among the races as far as entertainment be Michael Jackson and the rap genre. Are Idols among races only relevant when they are doing something ignorant? Or is race not important and I’m making a similar Kanye West-like bold statement, about how black people don’t know white music and white people just don’t care?

[Insert Kanye shrug here]

Anyway, the state of music over the last decade, as in it suffers to deliver quality and inspire, is one thing people of all races could potentially agree on. Therefore, I think that it is important everyone knows who the artists were before all this musical coonery. In honor of Black History Month I am going to dedicate the rest of this post to a short tutorial of who Prince is...

Meet Prince aka The artist formerly known as Prince: Singer, song singer, songwriter, musician, and actor.

Favorite color: Purple

Controversial: Yes

Famous for: Purple Rain, ruffles, deep intriguing voice, playa status and permy goodness.

Awards: 7 Grammys, A Golden Globe and an Academy Award.

Songs you may know: “When Doves Cry,” “Kiss” or go figure, “Purple Rain.”

For other random facts on in regards to Black History Month go here:

MsP

If It Ain’t Broke, Don’t Fix It

2010-01-21T16:16:00.001-08:00

In a recent interview Heidi Montag told Extra that she wanted to make her boobs a size ‘H’ for Heidi. This was surprising to me, only because I wasn’t aware Heidi was up to the letter ‘H’ in the alphabet.

Heidi, who is only 23, is already a triple D after her second breast augmentation. And I’m guessing those breasts don’t feel nothing like sand. Nor do they feel like juicy clumps of fat as God intended.

By now I’m sure the news of Heidi’s interview with People Magazine on her 10 hour plastic surgery procedure has been well spread. If not, recent photos of Heidi should suffice. She looks like a young Donatella Versace blow up doll. Don’t stand too close folks she might be exuding her toxins.

Yikes is right.

Bitch if you need 10 hours of cosmetic surgery to fix things just give up. Find something more satiable in your life besides your looks. Even her douche of a husband Spencer Pratt tried to talk her out of it beforehand. He suggested she might need therapy and thought she was losing her mind to go through with it.

I always joke around about getting my boobs blown up, but I think if it came down to it and I had the opportunity I’d pass it up. Although if they can find a way to make my big toe smaller so the nail lady doesn’t gawk at it when I get a pedicure, that would be nice…

If you could get work done, would you? Or have you and for what reason?

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

2009-12-18T10:08:00.000-08:00

...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 minority~~broke 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.

Ms Puddin' Not So Fierce

2009-11-18T14:30:00.000-08:00

There was a time in my life when I really thought I was Beyonce. It didn’t really help my situation that people used to tell me, “Hey, you kind of look like Beyonce.” Which somehow translated in my mind as, “You look just like Beyonce. You sing and dance just like her. Can I have your autograph?”

Things kind of got out of control when I started dying my hair blonde and walking in longer strides. However, over time my love for Beyonce kind of faded (she is way over publicized, yet still talented) and I began to realize that I look nothing like her.

The icing on the cake was not too long ago when I sat in the front row of a Tommy Davidson stand-up show. Um, big mistake, because for about an hour he went off to the audience about how I look like Prince. He even busted out in some Prince-like dance moves singing, Kiss and cooed, I Would Die 4 You.

With the extra, “oooo-oooo-oooo”… *hangs self*

Now people often tell me I look more like Melyssa Ford or Rosario Dawson. I definitely don’t have Melyssa Ford’s body, but I’ll take it. And as far as Rosario Dawson, I used to think she was ugly, until people started telling me that I looked like her. Now I’m like, oh hell yeah I look like her! Dayumn, that girl is fione.

Readers, who are your celeb look-alikes?

A Good B Job

2009-11-10T15:03:00.000-08:00

I applied for some jobs on adultstaffing.com, which is a Web site catered to people looking for work in the adult entertainment industry. My interest in doing this sparked a while back after watching an episode of MTV’s ‘True Life’ entitled, ‘I Work in the Porn Industry’. There was a girl on the show whose job really intrigued me.

I know what you’re thinking and no, it’s not like that. My intentions were not to do any type of pornographic work including nude modeling, intercourse, Web cam teasing, escorting, none of those things came to my mind. I only applied for some of the behind the scenes ‘businesslike jobs’, like HR, management, etc.

Hey the girl on MTV sounded like she really enjoyed her job and made good money, so why not?

Unfortunately, the responses I’ve gotten in regards to my application (with a picture) have been endless opportunities to spread my legs instead of my intellect. So one could imagine my excitement when I received an email the other day that started out like this…

“I am VERY interested in interviewing you as my personal assistant. I currently run a large well respected escort agency, and am working on building and developing an adult video production / content for an internet company, real estate, and national call center. Relocation is not necessary, if you are willing to travel a few times a month. I can be very flexible with scheduling and of course all travel and hotel costs are paid in full by me...I have a very real need of a personal assistant to help me continue to build and run my "empire".”

As long as the word ‘agency’ is in the same sentence as ‘personal assistant’, I’m down. However, I was only excited until about halfway through the email, which somehow turned into this…

“I am also looking for someone just as good UNDER the desk as they are above it. I think this should be fun, profitable, and a physically enjoyable endeavor… Physically: Insatiable Woman, Strong desire to please, Attractive, Loves to show off her body, revealing clothing, teaser, pleaser, sexual, orally fixated lol, ready to “go”, anytime, anywhere, any place, and OFTEN!”

My big opportunity shifted from immense potential into a really bad personal ad on craigslist . *cringes* And did this guy just use ‘lol’ in a business email? I guess everyone has to give head to get ahead in the adult industry. Personally I don’t mind getting paid under the table, but I definitely don’t want to work down there.

Big Black Taco

2009-11-04T16:10:00.000-08:00

I was driving to work this morning when my thoughts were interrupted by a Taco Bell commercial. Taco Bell’s new ‘Black Jack Taco’ commercial to be exact. The words, “Black eye, black sheep, black jack, black taco,” were cooed into my ear over some dance music.

I don’t have cable so it was up to my imagination to decipher what they meant exactly. However, when ‘black taco’ is whispered into my ear like that, there are only a few places my mind will take me. So yes, for a brief moment my mind went there. And all I could do was hope the ‘black taco’ didn’t come with sour cream, and condoms. (Which I found out it doesn’t, thank God.)

After my perverted mind came back into reality I became slightly offended. Either their marketing team needs to get laid or fired. I know the economy is bad, so I’m not going to be the person to write the angry black taco letter to headquarters to get someone fired. However, there is no way to incorporate the color of the taco shell into that ad without being offensive.

Some things are just better left unsaid. Black, red, white tacos all just sound wrong. Can’t it just be a taco? Why must they associate color with it. Ok yeah I get that it’s physically black, I can see the damn thing, but come on. I can’t help but give the side eye when the message of their slogan is basically, ‘come eat our 89 cent black taco’…

*Pulls out black card in one hand and misogyny card in the other*

I’m just sayin…

Here is a version of the ad:

Giggin'

2009-10-28T10:13:00.000-07:00

Catch me over here today...

MsP

My Friend Jon, The Ex Con

2009-10-17T23:02:00.000-07:00

I'm a pretty social person when I want to be. I go places. I'm friendly. I make friends. *halo*

Well recently I might have been a little too friendly. Walking home from dinner with the bf, we saw some dude on the corner holding this sign...

I was impressed, thought it was catchy, hoped he made a buck or two. And of course I asked for a picture to put on my Facebook page, because what is the point of seeing something like that if you can't put it on Internet blast? Right? Right.

Anyway, a couple weeks later I was walking downtown and I see a guy holding up another impressive sign...

(Sign reads: "Will work for female relations, cash, car, tools, clothes, a job, apartment and anything else you wish to help my sorry non-having butt with.")

I stop and I said to the guy, “Hey, I saw a guy a couple weeks ago with another interesting sign (whipping out my cell phone to show him the picture) and I think you've got yourself some competition.”

“Hey that's me,” he said, pointing to the picture of him holding the 'ex con' sign. Ohhhhhh. Good thing I'm so perceptive.

“Well I put it on my Facebook page,” I told him, not sure of his reaction.

“Really? Cool,” he said.

Turns out his name is Jon. I'm not sure why exactly why he sits on the corner with crazy signs. The "ex con" thing might be a subtle explanation, but I'll have to get the full scoop one of these days.

I saw him again for a third time with his fiancée on Wednesday.

“Hey babe, this is the girl who puts my pictures on Facebook,” he tells her proudly, as I snap their picture...

I'm mad at the stoge in her hand and after all his 'female relation' signs this girl suddenly pops up. However, I also love happy endings ;0 Good luck to my new friend Jon, the ex con and his girl.

Introducing Marques Anthony: “R&B’s Best Kept Secret”

2009-10-12T16:41:00.000-07:00

I found an upcoming artist via Twitter and I thought I’d share him with you since music is ruining my life right now. And he's kind of cute ::wink::wink:: Introducing (in his own words) “R&B’s Best Kept Secret” Marques Anthony…

MsP: So Marques Anthony, you’re a fresh and new R&B artist with the hot single ‘Cloud 9’. Tell me what your first single means to you and how it came about?

MA: My first single represents my weekends! Most people work very hard during the week to provide for their families and the means to survive. However, when Friday comes it gives you a sense of relief, enough to where you can relax and enjoy your weekend! ‘Cloud 9’ represents freedom, comfort and fun!!

MsP: What is your inspiration or also some of your favorite R&B/musical artists?

MA: Some of my inspirations are my family, friends, and all my haters! Those are the things that keep me working with such a pure passion for music! My favorite R&B artists would have to be Jamie Foxx, Tank, Usher, Baby Face, Dave Hollister, Joe, etc.

MsP: I know a lot of people are not too happy with the direction of music lately. What is your take on R&B and Hip Hop today?

MA: I think music right now is just a trend. If the beat is hot then you can pretty much say whatever you want and make a hit. “It has no substance”, as Jamie Foxx would say. I personally don’t like it at all because you can’t feel what the artists are saying anymore either. You can put on Dave Hollister's album, Chicago 85, and feel what he's going through in the song!

MsP: What do you think your distinct style will bring to your genre of music?

MA: When you listen to my music, I sing songs about different situations I have gone through that I know everyone can relate too. I want people to be able to feel the emotions when they listen to my music.

MsP: How is it working with Jamie Foxx as an artist and on Foxxhole Radio Show?

MA: Working with Jamie Foxx is like working with a family member! Jamie has always treated me like family and still does! He is the most down to earth celebrity you will ever meet!! Working with him on the Foxxhole as well as singing Background vocals on the "Blame It Tour" has truly been a blessing. Thanks to Marcus and Jamie King, who are Jamie's Manager's as well as my Godparents!

MsP: What artist(s) would you like to work with in the future?

MA: I would love to work with any artist who is willing to be different and get music back to the way things use to be!! A change is what I want to see in the music business!

MsP: Just out of curiosity, since it was such a big deal for a moment. What was your reaction when Kanye West jumped up on stage at the VMAs during Taylor Swift’s acceptance speech?

MA: Too much Hennessy before the show started!!

MsP: With fame comes a price and that price is usually your privacy. People will be all up in your mix. What is one thing you are not willing to give up for the price of fame? Or are you willing to risk it all?

MA: I am not willing to risk losing my family as well as losing the respect of my home town!! I think that is one of the best feelings ever when you’re able to go back home and your hometown loves you more than any other place in the world. To have the respect of those you grew up with and people who raised you is better than being in any magazine or on any TV show!

MsP: I read in your bio that you had some pretty rough times to get where you are today. What was one of your hardest struggles to get where you are?

MA: It was very rough for me coming up in this music business! My first two years in LA I really didn’t have much of anything. I was sleeping from couch to couch and catching rides where ever I needed to go!

MsP: Was there a moment that made you almost give up on your dreams?

MA: I had a many nights where I cried myself to sleep only because I knew I couldn't give up on my dreams, which kept me going day after day!

MsP: Do you feel you’ve reached your potential musically?

MA: I know I haven't reached my full potential as an artist, but I’m on my way and I won’t stop until I get there!!

MsP: Do you have any performance rituals? Ex: stretching, finger aerobics, lots of alcohol, etc.?

MA: I do have a performance ritual, but I can’t tell you what that is!! ::LOL:: You gon’ have my secrets out there in the streets!! ::LOL::

MsP: Ohhhh ok (I’m afraid)::LOL:: But, moving on. Of course the ladies are at least going to want to know what Marques Anthony’s status is. Are you single or taken?

MA: For the record I am single right now!

MsP: R&B is universal for often expressing the emotion of love. Do you do that through your music?

MA: There’s only so much you can say in public though, if you know what I mean…

MsP: Have you ever been in love?

MA: (Smiley Face) Yes, I have been in love before! Love can either be some of the best moments in your life or some of the worst.

MsP: How would you seduce a woman? Or do you prefer to be the one getting seduced?

MA: If I can’t seduce you with the truth, then I’m no good. At the same time, I love to be seduced if she knows what she is doing!!!

Did you hear that ladies? Hint. Hint.

MsP: Beyonce or Rihanna?

MA: If it was me I would take Beyonce's voice and dancing abilities, combine them with Rihanna's looks and swag and get married!! ::LOL::

MsP: Ok and on that note that about wraps this up. Shout out to Janae Trevillion for setting this up. And good luck to you Marques Anthony.

MA: Thanks.

You can go to iTunes or Google ‘Marques Anthony Music’, which will link you to all the Web sites where you can download his music.

If you’re interested in reaching out and connecting with Marques Anthony, find him via http://twitter.com/marquesanthony, Facebook ‘Marques Anthony’ or myspace.com/Marquesjones21.

MsP

Accessorizing Your House = FAIL

2009-10-05T15:43:00.000-07:00

I was minding my own business today. Really I was. I was just sitting in my cube, drinking my tea and working. Yes, actually working. That was until someone sent me this…

What the fuck is this? Extreme Makeover: Hood Edition? I know if somebody did my house like this I would scream in horror instead of excitement. Louis Vuitton is cute as a purse, ok on your nails and just borderline wtf-are-you-doing on the inside of your car, but this shit right here???

*extra side eye*

Please feel free to throw in a few words, a caption, an explanation, etc…

Hood Summer Fest 2009

2009-09-21T16:50:00.001-07:00

So I went to a pool party @ the Clarion yesterday. * crickets * I know, that should have been my first red flag. I was lucky they even had a pool. It was a hood fest in its entirety. Clear plastic heels, fake Louis Vuitton and the guys came in groups of ten, dressed in plain white Ts with white towels on their heads.

There was a model contest. Let me rephrase that. There was a booty shakin’ contest. About 10 to 15 girls graced the stage (um box?) in their bikinis. Each one was announced by name and their hobby. I want to say that 90 percent of the hobbies had something to do with dancing, entertaining and possibly doing the splits.

All this happened within the first hour. I needed a drink. My boy was like, “Don’t trip, I got a bottle coming.” One hour later, in room 122 was a bottle of Hennessey, Patron and some cranberry juice. * side eye * I decided my best bet was the bar.

On my way back from the bar, I noticed some girl had decided to take a dip in the hot tub. She’s in the tub. Her fake ass ponytail was lying next to the tub. One of the 25 photographers at the party runs over, snaps a picture and then literally picks up this random girl’s hair and throws it in the trash.

OMG. Yes. This actually happened...

Let me not lie, even though I felt like I was cast in Plies’ next music video, I was entertained. And on the plus side there were no kids there and no one got shot. However, I knew it was time for me to go home when I found someone’s fake tittie (cutlet) on the ground.

Shout out to Big Dave Presents, Socially Flyy , QB Chronicles and BigBootyRemy for the photo!! You know I love you guys. All press is good press :)

DIVAS

2009-09-16T15:27:00.000-07:00

I’ve noticed VH1 has been bringing back some of their classic shows like Behind the Music and DIVAS. I was definitely excited to hear that DIVAS was coming back this year. Remember the old school DIVAS, Whitney, Aretha, Mariah, Celine, Diana, Shaka, etc? There was nothing like some top selling female artists, with the biggest hair ever, trying to out sing each other.

It would start with Mariah singing, “I’m every womaaaaan!”

Then in comes Whitney, “No girl, nah uh, I’M everrrrrry womaaaaan,” belting even louder holding that note longer than Mariah.

Then in comes Shaka, to reinforce what Whitney just did singing, “It’s all in meeeeee!”

And while she’s singing, Mariah hits that high note putting everyone to shame. Diana is just on stage putting her big ass hair in everyone’s face and Whitney is in the background doing the ‘praise the lord’ shimmy.

* sigh *

Those were the music days I remember.

I was disappointed when I heard what the line-up was going to be for DIVAS this year. Kelly Clarkson, Jennifer Hudson, Leona Lewis, Miley Cyrus, Jordin Sparks and more. Ok VH1, I’ll give you Jennifer and Kelly, but Miley Cyrus? * side eye * Miley Cyrus is not a DIVA, will never be a DIVA, probably wasn’t even around when the original DIVAS aired.

*throws hands up in the air*

It might be too soon for Whitney, Celine is preggo, but I’m wondering if Beyonce and Christina were already booked? I know our music is in the shitter right now, but if Miley Cyrus and Jordin Sparks are the new DIVAS, this could be the beginning to the end of American music.

If you want to check out DIVAS , its Sept. 17th, 9/8 central, on VH1.

Another Bald Headed Beezy

2009-07-23T15:19:00.000-07:00

I first heard about this from the folks over at Oh Hell Nawl! Solange knew the paps would be outside to capture that fuzz puff. The least she could have done for my eyes was worn a hat or at least gotten lined up with a design. Halle, Amber, Rihanna, etc. hella women cut their hair short and made it look good. Solange looks like she didn’t even attempt to pro-style the edges.

I want to sit here and clown that mess of a haircut, but I kind of feel bad.

In my opinion when women cut all their hair off it’s because they are really going through something. Even Amy Winehouse’s beehive recently got significantly shorter. And we all saw Brittney with the umbrella and the I’m-going-to-eat-your-babies-bitch look in her eyes.

Solange posted something on her twitter earlier today about how she had too much to worry about versus her hair. And that she was just taking her son to school. She said that she didn’t get a style, because her intentions were never to make any type of trend or statement.

Honey, that haircut says a lot. That haircut says pay attention to me now damnit! That haircut says I don’t really have a career, I live in my sister’s shadow and I don’t know where my life is going. Someone. Please. Help.

Whatever she is going through emotionally, understandable, we all have our days. However, financially? Shieeeet. Her sister is Beyonce and her brother-in-law is Jay-z. Please tell me they couldn’t toss this heffa a couple dollars to go get lined up???

Big Kickin' It At Target

2009-07-10T23:37:00.001-07:00

Brought to you by the folks over at OHN. I hate you all...

In other news...

I went to Target on my lunch break today, in hopes of getting something classy for my ex boyfriend from high school as a wedding gift. I felt kind of bad going to Target, but hey that’s where he’s registered and it’s my ex.

Once I printed out the registry and discovered the reoccurring theme of a losing football team, all shameful thoughts flew out the window. Listed was, an Oakland Raiders Table Cover, an Oakland Raiders 4-pc BBQ Tool Set, an Oakland Raiders Bedding Collection and an Oakland Raiders Frosted Pint Glass Set.

I started cracking up as I sifted through the list with my eyes. Was he using this wedding as the opportunity to catch up on his favorite team’s collectibles? A visual of a man I once loved twenty years later on the couch with a beer belly and no motivation in life flashed through my mind.

It was right then and there I decided not to be stingy. Instead of going bitter and stag to his wedding, I was going to be happy and celebrate. This girl he was marrying could have him. I tossed the list and opted to buy the happy couple a bottle of wine...

On my way out the store, this guy who obviously worked at Target, with his red button-up and “Jeremy” Target badge shouted out to me.

“Hey, weren’t you the girl eating at the register last week?” He asked.

“I wasn’t eating, I was putting a cough drop in my mouth,” I said defensively.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you were eating.” he said. “Are you a regular here or something?”

“Hahaha no, I just work across the street so its convenient.”

“Oh,” he said. “Do you work at that place across the street that sells Hammer pants?

*Crickets*

No, I do not sit in an office all day and sell MC Hammer merchandise! And if I did work there and you were looking for some sort of re-live the 90s "two legit" hook up Mr., it’s not gonna happen!

Wait. Hold up, time out. Is there really a place somewhere that just sells Hammer pants?

And just to clarify, I was NOT chillin’ at the Target cash register eatin’ a snack…

When karma punches you in the face...

2009-06-23T22:09:00.000-07:00

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...

Vomit Water

2009-06-19T22:13:00.000-07:00

Yo, I don’t know what happened, but I’m still here blogworld. Not quite sure where exactly, but here nonetheless. I think part of it has to do with the fact that I actually have to work at my job and the rest of it is just lack of motivation.

What brings me back here today is something awesome that happened to me this week and I thought I’d share…

About a week ago, my roommate and I noticed that the water wasn’t going down the drain in our bathtub. At first we both just looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders as if to say “oh well’, too lazy to call the landlord. However, when the funk at the bottom of the tub started to leech onto my feet while I was trying to take shower I knew I had to take action.

So the next morning I decided to call the landlord on my way to work. I usually make my roommate call, because after three years the landlord can still never seem to remember my name. I’m assuming a first name basis with someone guarantees better results. Anyway, I call her and tell her what the problem is and at first she tells me, “why don’t you just call somebody?”

Um I live in your apartment. I pay you rent. You are that somebody. (Although looking back now I should have took her advice). After spelling out my name and number for her a few times, she finally sets it up for her son to come and take a look at my tub. He usually takes care of things, so I figure when I get home everything will be copacetic.

Sometime during the day my landlord calls me and says that her son couldn’t fix the problem, to just call someone and foot her the bill. Ok? I get home and my bathroom looks like someone took everything out of its place and put it in a different place. And the tub is still clogged * sigh *.

I decide to wash the dishes while I wait for Roto-Rooter.

As I’m forcing some old Chicken Alfredo, spinach and chunks of other questionable food down my garbage disposal, I can hear something having to do with water in the background. I shut off the disposal, running water and hear again what sounded like a tidal wave and it’s coming from my bathroom…

I don’t know what my landlord’s son did in his efforts to “help”, but now not only was the tub clogged, but the water from my kitchen sink was being drained out of my bathroom sink! And it smelled... smelled like vomit. Vomit water and spinach was splashing everywhere, the floor, into drawers onto my personal things.

After Roto-Rooter left it took my roommate, and I and a ton of bleach, to clean the crusty vomit water out of our lives. The memory still haunts me. * shudder *
On the bright side, it could have been the whole apartment. And today my girl posted on her FB status that she had to call 911 because there was a snake in her house. My glass is half full of vomit water :)

Would you rather...

2009-05-13T18:38:00.000-07:00

...be a single parent of 14...

...have eight kids and your partner cheats on you...

...or find out a child you've been parenting for years was never yours in the first place???

Yes, Brett and I have a thing going on. Jealous?

2009-04-30T19:33:00.000-07:00

* Disclaimer * This post only kind of has something to do with Brett Michaels

Well I was going to write a post on the Swine Flu, but even I’m sick (figuratively) of hearing about it.The only thing I was worried about when I first heard of the “pandemic spread” was whether or not I could still eat bacon. And as long as no one sneezes on it, I can. Problem solved, next topic.

In other ‘personal’ news, the ex randomly texted me at work today…

The ex:“Who’s Brett?”

MsP: “Michaels?”

The ex: “No, lmao, not Brett Michaels. Are you dating a Brett?”

MsP: “I’m sorry, what is to you who I date?”

The ex: “I can sense that you’re still angry. Why don’t you blog about it, it might make you feel better.”

*Side eye*

Rest assured I’m not going to directly comment on that conversation, because similar to the time not to long ago when he called me to get his Method Man CD out of my car, (circa 2009 what the fuck do you need a Method Man CD for?), he is probably reading this and getting a stiff one by me even mentioning him.

I only posted this because it's funny. Oh the irony. Soooo, yeah, let’s all have a laugh and move the fuck on.

Dr. Nosey Ass Asshole, this is me blogging about you.

* waves *

Surprisingly enough, I still feel the same as I did when I woke up this morning, but thanks for your concern. Do you feel better now that I posted about you? Does it make you feel like turning up your Method Man CD and whacking off to the idea of me and Brett Michaels on the Rock of Love tour bus?

It does? Oh goodie!!!

Bleh.

The Hills are unfortunately still alive with the sound of annoying people…

2009-04-20T23:50:00.000-07:00

After reading comments to my last post, I realized I needed to clear my hills watching conscience, by trying to figure out why I even watch The Hills in the first place. I honestly have no fucking idea why I watch the show. I used to justify that question with, “I just like to see what everyone is wearing”, but five seasons in that sounds just as ridiculous as the cast.

Heidi Montag is annoying as fuck and I think if she bleaches her hair one more time, the crew is going have to start writing her name on cue cards. Her boyfriend, Spencer Pratt, is like having a Yeast Infection that won’t go away. Lauren Conrad aka LC, cries in every fucking episode. No seriously, her Christmas wish list should read, tissue, waterproof mascara and “I need a hug”.

Every guy on the show is the epitome of ‘douche’, except Brody Jenner and he only gets a get-out-of-jail-free card because he’s sexy as hell. However, I’d prefer it if he didn’t speak. Ever.

Speaking of speaking, I can literally feel myself become dumber with every episode, because ALL conversations on the show go something like this…

Annoying person #1: “Hey.”

Annoying person #2: “Hey.”

Annoying person #1: “What’s going on?”

Annoying person #2: “Nothing”.

Annoying person #1: “Have you talked to so-and-so?”

Annoying person #2: “No.”

And that’s pretty much it on dialogue. Yet, I hang onto every word hoping that one day someone on the show is going to unexpectedly bust out with something deep and meaningful like, “The Pluralistic Ignorance Theory” or “cheap places to get a good boob job”.

Which never happens.

And the best part? I don't even have cable!! I literally have to go out of my way, online, to catch an episode. (I should webcam myself temperamentally yelling at my computer because Heidi got back with Spencer for the hundreth time).

If you watch the show, I hope you can empathize with this post. Other than that this post was just as pointless as the show, because for some reason, I will still watch it.

And in other news...

2009-04-17T16:01:00.001-07:00

I feel compelled to write Heidi Montag another inspirational letter on how to get a life and a new man. However, after watching her boyfriend Spencer Pratt and his looking-like-a-molester friend, act ‘gangsta’ on the Hills last night, I think I’ll just leave her alone for the time being. I wouldn’t want Mr. Pratt’s ‘peeps’ to come and ‘throw down hard’ on me for talking ‘smack’.

Besides, why waste time on them when there are so many other wonderful things happening!?

First of all, congratulations to Kim Kardashian for this impressive burn. Look! It’s Magda from “Something About Mary”, meets a very Persian Ooompa Loompa.

And then there was the crazy German lady who woke up and thought, “Hey today would be a great day to hang out with some Polar bears at the Zoo during feeding time.” *thumbs ups!* Remember the alleged tiger attacks at the San Francisco Zoo in 2007? Well that’s what they are trying to call this situation, a “polar bear attack”. I felt sorry for the tigers and I once again empathize with the bears.If I was hungry and some fatty jumped all up in my food for no reason, I might get nervous and bite too, sheiiit.

And last but not least, I feel like the 90s are trying to make a comeback.Like isn’t Ginuwine trying to revive his career?Keisha Knight Pulliam allegedly has a reality TV show coming out and you will never guess who I randomly bumped into at the club last Saturday?

No big announcement or extensive MySpace flyers were sent my way. I had just so happened to be at a particular club celebrating my roomie’s bday, when towards the end of the night the DJ hit us with some old school.“This Is How We Do It!” starting blasting through the speakers and I look over to my left and Montell Jordan is in the crowd on the mic!

He only did that song, before saying he would be in the VIP if anyone wanted to come and kick it.We went down to try and get a pic and there were like only three other people around. LOL I don’t think anyone knew who he was or why he was there. Does he have a new album out? Is the economy that bad?Either way, he was still looking scrum-dayyyyumn-yummie-umptious!!!

Your Publicity Stunt Is Gross

2009-04-09T22:19:00.001-07:00

My ex used to make fun of me because I think that everything is gross.

Onions. Gross. Herpes. Gross. The sound of a banana when being chewed. Gross! Gross! Gross!

Not to mention, Kanye West’s ego, Tori Spelling’s boob job, Christian Louboutin’s new sneaker line, Amy Winehouse and waking up the next morning to find vomit in my hair that I didn’t know was there the night before, can all also be classified as gross.

However, I would rather watch a Billy Bob Thornton and George W. Bush rendition of two-girls-one-cup, while eating a Fear Factor delicacy on the toilet before exposing my eyes to this ever again…

Aubrey O'Day sucking on Kathy Griffin's tongue.Ew.

I'm In Las Vegas Bitch!

2009-04-07T16:07:00.000-07:00

After becoming single (again) and unable to find work, I did what any normal person would do, I spent a week in Las Vegas. Originally I bought my last minute ticket because a friend of mine was having a bachelorette party and getting hitched in the same weekend. And who would want to miss out on that???

Since I have a friend who lives in Las Vegas, I ended up extending my stay, getting a tan, meeting a cutie and getting a call back for a job on my way home. So if anyone is ever having a hard time, I would just recommend some pain killers, a trip to Las Vegas and Happy Hour at the Blue Martini.

Life is crazy weird and it’s just shocking what a $4 martini in a new atmosphere will do for one’s mentality.

Oh and that’s not all either.

Something even more amazing happened to me at work yesterday. Are you ready for it? I was sitting at my desk when all of a sudden my phone vibrated to me this message, “I+think=I+figured+it+out”.

Could it be? Did my mom finally discover how to test message? A true beginner with her mistaking a plus sign for a space, but I guess we got to start somewhere. The woman still can’t figure out how to put her own phone on speaker. So the “its+mom” text that followed blew me away.

Fucking amazing!

Now when she asks me how I’m doing, I can fake enthusiam like I do with guys who I’m not really interested in, but still want the attention from, “Yeah! Dinner in a week sounds great!!!” * happy face * xo / *thumbs up *!!!!!!!!!!!!.

Was that not convincing?

And the best part is that when I send her a drunk text she will actually think we are communicating...

Me: “I’m a bar=threw=up, can’t panties find hair+++” * smiley face *.

Mom: “+++hope+you re Not=getting sick-have=fun+” *eyeless smiley face *

Technically Not Very Savvy

2009-03-23T19:15:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone I invested in a web cam !! Whoop! Whoop! This is my first V-blog, ever, choppin' it up with Jeromi...

And dancing with Chris...

Thanks for all the love, lovers!! (Chat with me on woome. (Same email, same name, MsFreshBananaPuddin).

It's like MySpace, but creepier. * thumbs up *

An Open Letter to Fergie

2009-03-15T19:49:00.001-07:00

I probably shouldn’t be writing you this, but I guess it’s too late to turn back now. I just wanted to take the time to congratulate you on the new hair. It has done wonders for my eyes. And it also actually makes your eyebrows look somewhat normal.

Before, when you would sing about how glamorous your hump s were, I didn’t get it. Something just wasn’t right. From my perspective your humps were not something to brag about and your face is definitely puffier than any lady. And then comparing yourself to a child with a blanke t really sobered me up. I was so confused, not only because I wasn’t quite sure where I was at the time, but also because your face is the opposite of that of a child’s.

I’ve been seeing this makeover around the web for a few days now and gheezus what a world of difference this has done for you! Your new hubby may have enjoyed running his fingers through those stringy not quite blonde, not quite brown, ugly, greasy highlights, but I sure could have done without the visual. And thanks to your innovative stylists poof, it’s gone! Yay! Go team!

Anyway, I just wanted to express how happy I am that now when you sing I can actually enjoy watching the talent as well as hearing it. I don’t have to close my eyes and pretend that surprisingly good voice of yours is coming out of someone else’s mouth. It makes the experience that much more enjoyable. So yeah, thanks.

Sincerely,

Ms. Fresh Banana Puddin’
PS- Unfortunately, there still is that part in the middle …

Will Work for Cheese (Among other things)

2009-03-06T12:40:00.000-08:00

Well for those of you who don’t know, I’ve been back on the grind in search of another job. And like a good majority of Americans right now, I am BROKE. I’m not even Bobby Brown/MC Hammer broke, I’m Tara Reid/random homeless person broke.

Life is becoming a little less luxurious everyday.

I had to cancel my gym membership, but at the same time I can’t afford to buy food. So lately I just jog around the block and fuck my boyfriend for exercise. Then I eat canned tuna and drink lots of tap water to stay healthy.

I can’t afford to go out and get shit-faced either, so technically I’m in rehab. Therefore, I am still doing ok on the physical level. Mentally, I’m unstable. Instead of cable, I’ve been reading books. With the economy the way that it is, some of us have no choice but to learn how to adjust.

I heard a comedian mention the other night, "When was the last time we've heard Obama say 'Yes We Can!'"? It's like he got into office and started looking over some paperwork, (the big fat binder labeled, "Shit Gone Wrong" next to the Manila folder entitled, "We Fucked Up"), now he's like, "Shit, um maybe we might be able to do some shit, kind of...if we're lucky, we'll see. I'll get back to you."

Most people grew up with some sort of plan in mind. Usually it’s something substantial like go to college, get a job, get married, have some kids, retire and die. I never really had that plan or any other plan for that matter. My mom did. Her plan for me was to make sure that I went to college, which I did. Now I’m fucked, because I didn’t really have a plan for what to do after college.

I mean it was inevitable that I would eventually have to get a “real” job. One that I didn’t have to wear a hot pink mini, cup balls in my hand or contributed to my drinking problem. However, job-hunting (again and for the record I wasn't fired) during this whole economic crisis thingy has me straight struggling.

I have a job interview on Monday. Let.Us.Pray.

Youtube + lots of free time = a new way to enjoy dance music ...

2009-03-03T20:05:00.000-08:00

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

2009-03-01T18:32:00.000-08:00

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.

Would you still hit it, again?

2009-02-22T20:02:00.001-08:00

Well I came over to my boyfriend’s house the other day, (yes I have a boyfriend) and he nonchalantly had a porno playing on the TV. It wasn’t a plastic titty DVD with bleach blondes, big fake boobies and airbrushed booty. It was one of those real raunchy pornos where the viewer can see the chick’s razor bumps on her cooch during the penetration close-ups.

“Why are you watching a porno right now,” I asked. “And why this nasty one?”

“Oh my boy let me borrow it, I was just checking it out,” he replied. “I’m not really paying attention.”

Oh.

I was silent for a moment as I checked out the porn. Some perverted looking white guy was eating out this fat black chick’s pussi.

At least it was embracing biracial relationships.

“I’m sorry, but that chick is gross,” I said.

“Why,” he asked.

I don’t know, she just is,” I said, making a face, before asking the inevitable, “Would you have sex with her?”

“Ummmm, yes,” he said turning his head from left to right looking at her intently. “You will be surprised to find out, my dear, who a man will have sex with.”

Then he went on to tell me that given the opportunity he would have sex with Omarosa, Whoopi Goldberg, Star Jones (before and after surgery) and Paris Hilton. Thus opening the door to one of my most infamous debates, would you still hit it???

Usually for the fellas, but ladies feel free to toss in your oh so necessary two cents, because you know we always do…

Fellas, would you have sex with Oprah if she was broke? Doesn’t matter bigger or smaller, without money is Oprah still f*ckable?

What about Octo-pussi Nadya Suleman? Sure she might have a gaping vagina, jumbo sized stretch marks, be able to make her nipples hard with her knees and even attempt to pull off the condom during sex, but she looks like she can give a mean blow job...

And if the rumors are true and Rihanna did give Chris Brown herpes or the clap, does her sex appeal override the possibility of attracting a life long std???

It's my party, I'll get motorboated if I want to!

2009-02-17T14:55:00.000-08:00

I celebrated my 25th with a ladies night out. It's impossible to feel old when you still have girlfriends who will stick their face in your cleavage...

Rub on your cleavage...

Blow on your cleavage...

Take cheap porno flicks with you...

or feel on your booty...

Thanks bitches for a wonderful birthday!!!

Reason #385 Why I'm Going to Hell

2009-02-09T21:16:00.000-08:00

I studied Spanish in school for about seven or eight years. I can understand it enough to get at least the gist of what someone is saying, but that’s pretty much it. It’s sad really. And I don’t want to offend anyone with this post, because I love the language and culture.

However, we just weren’t meant to be.

After working in the restaurant industry for six years and then living with my roommate who is Mexican for three years, I honestly know more Spanish slang than whatever I learned in school. However, I still can only speak Spanish as well as that Russian chick on For The Love of Ray J show speaks English.

I’m with Ray J on that one, she’s hot, but wtf is she saying? I guess on VH1 it really doesn’t matter does it?

I digress.

For someone who is fluent, having a conversation with me is probably like talking to a retard. I wonder if Hispanics really do think I’m retarded? In fact let me clear that up now.

No estoy retardada. En serio.

Anyway, I still like using my battered Spanish from time to time. It’s fun and most of the time people humor me anyway. They act impressed that I can say, “hi, how are you?” or “those jeans make your ass look fat”, in Spanish.

Unfortunately, when I get drunk and I’m around other people who speak Spanish it’s all bad, because I tend to try and get into the conversation too. And if alcohol isn’t enough to help me make an ass out of myself already…Remember the night that I puked in my hair?

Well that was the night that I thought I would become a Spanish speaking intellectual. Uh huh. My roomie and her friend came to pick me up that night. They had also been out partying and decided to stop for some food on the way home.

They stopped at this Mexican restaurant called, Tacos al Carbon that is open until 3 a.m. Kind of like what Jack in the Box is for white people. I decided to stay in the car, but after I puked (not in the car), I felt better and ended up joining them inside.

I remember it being crowded and I probably was the only biracial, non-Hispanic person in there. We all sat at a table, my roomie and about five of her friends’, guys and girls. To the far left of us sat a table of about six Hispanic guys all decked out in black and tan cowboy hats, western buttoned up shirts, tight jeans, the works.

My roomie ordered me some nachos to try and sober me up. Surprisingly even after just recently vomiting through my nose, I was starving. Eventually, in between bites of chips, cheese and chicken, I noticed one of the guys at the other table to the far left motioning for me to come over. Yeah right. I had beans and cheese dribbling down my chin, how was I even going to be able to walk? And how the hell did he find me attractive?

So I decided to mess with him. I started yelling across to his table, “¡¿Tienes Papeles?!”, “¡¿Tienes Papeles?!”

The whole table I was sitting with and his fell out laughing. I looked around and was like yeah, yeah. I’m pretty badass. My Spanish is muy bien. So I started up again, “¡¿Tienes Papeles?!”, “¡¿Tienes Papeles?!”

You see in my mind, I thought that meant, “do you have paper?” Roughly similar to saying, “Are you ballin’?” Like if you want to talk to me you have to have paper, money, cheddar, etc.

Right? Wrong.

I guess what I was really asking the guy was, “Do you have your papers?” Like as in, are you even legal in the United States of America? Like as in I’m a total drunk jackass.

Needless to say he left me alone after that.

Suddenly, I was in the champagne room...

2009-02-08T13:42:00.000-08:00

As I’ve mentioned before, I frequent strip clubs because they are the easiest place to get free drinks. See most guys in the joint think that if they liquor up the girls who don’t work there, they might get lucky and catch a last minute amateur show. It’s usually a hit or miss. You never know. I have seen it happen, but it’s never happened to me. Honest. (See my halo :0).

The last time I went to a strip joint, I bumped into a friend of a friend. I love the male reaction when I bump into them at strip clubs. First there is the initial reaction of, “oh sh*t, I’m caught.” Then second there is the, “wait, what are you doing in here, you’re a girl? And last but not least, they second guess, “you don’t work here, do you?”

No I don’t work here, just enjoying my tax-free beverage thank you very much.

Anyway, I bumped into this guy who is a friend of a friend and apparently he got into his head me watching ass and titties was some sort of pastime. So he went ahead and called me up Friday night inviting me to a “gentlemen’s party” at the Hilton.

“Oh is someone getting married or something,” I asked him.

“No,” he said. “I’m just throwing a party, invite only.”

Cool. I'm special. I'm V.I.P. Sounds good.

In my mind I was naïve enough to think that maybe he was just throwing one of those parties where it was a good place to network, but half dressed women were part of the mingling crowd. No worries, I can handle that.

Or so I thought…

I get up to the 18th floor where he had rented a Suite. When he pushed open the door, it was like the scene from The Players Club when Eboney got beat up and raped, except with a younger crowd. Intrigued, I decided to stay. What girl doesn’t want to put herself into that situation?

There was a portable stripper pole in the center of the room that three dudes were desperately trying to readjust. Unfortunately from the look of the thing, one swing and any lucky lady might learn how to fly that night.

There was a bar, but it was old school house party style. Audaciously drinks were $10. I was too anxious to see how the night was going to play out to even worry about getting a drink.

I was also a little embarrassed, because I had invited a new girlfriend of mine to go with me. I guess I felt guilty because I haven't really broken her into the situations I get myself into, yet. Although, she seemed just as eager as me to find out what was going to happen next.

Every ten minutes or so, a handful of guys would saunter through the door of the Suite eagerly awaiting the festivities.The girls were hidden in a room adjacent to the Suite, digging through suitcases full of plastic high heels, bikini tops and bottoms and other bright colored accessories.

Eventually, the girls started filing out into the Suite room. They looked nothing like the Rock of Love/Flavor of Love girls. It was more like Phat Booty Hoes meets BET Uncut. Soon that didn't even matter, because it all became a blur of ass, titties, dollar bills and private lap dances. Rap music blaring in the background.

Wait, what the...how the...hold it. Am I in the champagne room? Hmmm, it's different than I imagined. This was definitely not the same experience as a strip club.

Why in the hell would somebody think that I would enjoy a party like this? I go to strip clubs to get free drinks not lap dances. Even if I did get a lap dance, this seemed like the type of crowd that was paying for a boner. Praying for a blowjob.

Um, I don't have a penis. I might have been sold if it was open bar. Otherwise, I have ass and titties, why would I pay to see someone else’s that are not going to turn me on because, I, like, dick?

The icing on the cake was when one of the girls turned to me and informed me that some of the girls were in fact performing in front of family members. It was then that I decided to make my exit. Parties like that should only be seen on VH1...

MsP and The City

2009-01-09T19:36:00.000-08:00

(This is a long post, so grab a cocktail and stay awhile. My posts have been few and far between anyway, so you have time to get drunk and enjoy ;p). MsP

I was sober on New Year’s Eve.

It wasn’t intentional, believe me, I did everything possible to try and get drunk. I brought my flask to the party I was attending, but couldn’t get it passed security. I dressed like a skank, but so was every other heffa in there. I did the Tyra walk with Oprah’s enthusiasm, but almost ate sh*t in my hooker heels.

Still sober by 11:50 p.m., I gave up and took it as a sign of how I should embrace the New Year.

And as I drove home that night passing up at least five different cars being pulled over on the side of the freeway, for once I was proud of my sobriety. There was a new year ahead of me full of opportunity and enterprise. It was time to start thinking positive and about my future.

In other words, I’m getting too old for this debauchery sh*t and if I don’t get my ass together in the next couple of years, I’m going to be living alone watching Lifetime with my cats or my AA sponsor. Tragic.

So in order to get my ass in gear, I started applying for jobs in my related field. No more hooking or doing other odd jobs with midgets, it was time for the real deal. Not too soon after applying (surprisingly) I landed an interview, in the city, for a fashion website. Perfect.

I woke up for my interview and was tempted to cancel. Honestly, why do people get up so early in the morning?

After getting ready I typed the interview location into my TomTom and headed out. A 45-minute drive later I found the street I needed to be on, located the cheapest parking garage and parked. I figured I could just walk the rest of the way. I still had twenty minutes to get to the interview.

Unfortunately, when I got to the main street the interview was on and I checked the numbers I was in the 1300s and I needed to be in the 600s.

I thought to myself, “Once I figure out in which direction I’m headed, I should be fine.”

I swooped into a little clothing shop and the lady told me I was headed in the right direction, however, she also told me that I might want to catch the bus. I told her thanks, but I was convinced I could walk it. I still had ten minutes to spare. I continued walking in my four-inch stilettos, convincing myself to remain calm and positive.

Another block down I began to realize that I was a little over dressed for downtown in the daytime. Other women had on flats, over sized sweatshirts and dragged mini luggage-on-wheels behind them. I had on skinny jeans, four-inch heels and matching purse. I could feel the male species eyes upon me.

I was now officially a walking rack-of-lamb, fresh off the grill, ready to be served with A1 and mash potatos. And that's when the inevitable happened. Not because I’m so unbelievably, ridiculously good looking, but because I was walking around downtown, looking lost, dressed like a slut.

As I walked past this rent-your-own-cheap-ass-furniture joint, there was a group of guys out in front staring, taunting and whispering to me as I walked by. Whatever. I had other things on my mind aside from sexual harassment. Like, I was going to be late and for some reason I couldn’t feel my big toe. Eventually I realized that one of the guys from in front of the store had fallen into stride with me.

“Hey there beautiful, can I talk to you for a minute?”

I looked to my left to discover a young man with his pants hanging somewhere between the lower half of his ass and his knees, a gold grill and some Sisqo colored hair. Really!? I’m not one to judge, but really?

“I’m sorry, not right now,” I said. “I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“Me too,” he replied. “See I’m walking with you, we can both be in a hurry.”

“Um not right now,” I said. “I really got somewhere I got to be.”

“Well then we both got somewhere to be,” he responded.

I sighed heavily, he was a persistent little f*cker.

“Sure whatever,” I said slightly under my breath. Stupid four-inch heels, I could just not walk fast enough!

“Can I get your number?” he asked.

“No I’m sorry, look I really have to get going,” I said.

“Well fine then, BITCH!” he said.

Yeah, he said it.

Suddenly not only was I late, but I was also a bitch.

And to prove it, he hawked the fattest loogie and blew it in my direction. Lucky for me with a little quick maneuvering I was able to dodge the wad. WTF!?

Did he really just spit at me?

“You’re lucky I didn’t spit on you bitch,” I heard his voice echo in the background verifying my lingering thoughts. And with that, I stuck my hand in the air and hailed a cab.

Five minutes later I arrived five minutes late to my interview. (Depending on whose watch you’re looking at). My hair was in my face, I was a little out of breath and sweaty. However, on the bright side of things I didn’t get spit on and it is still only just the beginning of 2009. I could do nothing but laugh at my little mini adventure.

So I took a deep breath, put a smile on my face and stepped off the elevator…

Happy Holidays Bitches!!!

2008-12-22T22:51:00.000-08:00

Where's Puddin'???

Oh, there I am. I'm trying not to be a Scrooge this year and yes, the alcohol is helping. I can proudly say I puked in my hair last Saturday. Just keepin' it classy.

I wanted to post up some quick holiday love before being trapped for five days with the family. Hope you're all either getting boinked under the mistle toe or takin' shots with Santa. Maybe even both or felt up by an elf with a wreath wrapped around your ankles. Kinky. Anyway...

Peace ~ Love & A Round of Drinks on Me!!

MsP

Plan B (not the pill)

2008-12-07T14:09:00.000-08:00

Since the economy is down I thought it would be a good idea to revise my resume. So it’s a good thing that I have this blog full of so many things I’m good at to base my experience on…

Ms. Fresh Banana Puddin’

1000 Not Quite Sure Where I Am Avenue
You Are Here, CA 86411
1-800-FCUKOFF
mspuddin@gmail.com

OBJECTIVE
Looking for a job where no one cares about my punctual nature and sobriety.

EDUCATION
USSI - U Seem Smart Institute for becoming extra Smarter, You Are Here, CA
A Bull Shit degree in Learning
Minor in Stuff

EXPERIENCE
- Stripping
- Dancing on bars
- Drunk driving
- Any back alley
- Cheap date
- Plan B savvy
- Passing out Drunk (on doorsteps, front lawns, the back seat of your car, etc.)
- Knows someone who knows the personal assistant of the girl who was in that one movie, yeah her sister.

VOLUNTEER WORK
- N / A (I don’t do kittens, babies or old people)

AWARDS
- In The Hole Award (Puking on target)
- Nacho Champ Eater
- Falling face first an impressive amount of times

THINGS I’M GOOD AT
- Hopping fences
- Other people’s credit cards
- Getting free drinks
- Trespassing
- Losing panties
- Drunk texting / dialing / stopping by unannounced
- Getting by on a cup of noodles (Food Max, 24-pack for $3, btw)
- Dancing good while inebriated
- Holding my pee
- Creatively popping a squat
- Starting fights with bitches I don’t know…or my ex
- Decent at blowjobs, but infrequent
- Stuffing bra
- Giving number, email / address out to anyone who asks for it
- Setting things on fire

PERSONAL ATTRIBUTES
- Habitual Thrower
- Insecure
- Clumsy
- Desperate
- Fucking Crazy
- Easy
GOALS / ASPIRATIONS- Keeping a man- Rehab

EMPLOYMENT
42nd and Taylor 11 / 5 – current
You Are Here, CA
Corner Worker – I work hard

Burger King bathroom 4 / 08 – 11 / 1
You Are There, CA
Nothing really – sobered up and ate French fries

REFERENCES
911 – please ask for anyone who moves fast and has really good MEDs.

*A special thanks to my PA for helping me put this resume together on such short notice.

Quote of the Day

2008-11-19T19:58:00.000-08:00

"My theory is that the real Michael Jackson died when his hair caught on fire while shooting that Pepsi commercial."

Who The Fuck Hired MsP?

2008-11-07T13:39:00.000-08:00

What's up with my lack of blogging and random letters to the White House about my vagina?

Well, see what had happened was...I GOT A JOB BITCHES! Boo-yeah! And no, it's not on 46th and Taylor, at Busty's, Hooters or even Mr. T's Lounge. It's in a real office, with real people, who are really friendly and there's free coffee and stuff.

I now officially work for iTunes, through Apple, and I think I died and went to nerd heaven. Not exactly where I was expecting to go, but I'll take it!

I miss going to your blogs, but I actually have work to do that's not MySpace related. *gasp* So don't hate me. And if you are angry, I prefer to be spanked, thanks.

MsP

An Open Letter To George W. Bush

2008-11-04T00:08:00.000-08:00

Dear George W. Bush,

Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

Sincerely,

Ms Fresh Banana Puddin’

MISSING VAGINA

2008-10-27T00:33:00.000-07:00

Dear readers,

My vagina has recently packed up and bounced out. So if you see her on I-90 with a suitcase full of lube, condoms and birth control, can you please call me at 1-800-GET-LAID?

Thanks,

MsP

This Queen Is A Drag

2008-10-22T16:32:00.000-07:00

I think I gave the blogworld some great head this past week (or two) didn't I? Or maybe it was more like a nice swift kick in the balls or a punch in the vagina? Huh. I'm not really sure, either way I should get a nice big metal for officially sucking at a blogging.

One thing I have been keeping up with is the gym. Yes, not only did I join, but I've actually been showing up. My motivation is the local cheer team that seems to practice their routines every time I hop on the treadmill. Stupid skinny-perky-24/7-bitches who like babies. Grrr.

I got to be honest here. I miss the ex. It's been cold turkey since I went all Kelis on his ass and I'm having a hard time adjusting. Sooooo, I've been telling my friends every time they go out now, they have to get me at least two numbers. If you read this blog you too now have to get me numbers of hot guys who have jobs and can read good. Thanks.

MsP

Picture of the Week

2008-10-10T15:39:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning (afternoon) to find the usual emails in my box (hee hee), several Viagra and penis enhancement inquiries, (I HAVE A VAGINA!), a letter from some guy in India asking for a donation of $5 million and singlesnet.com’s weekly newsletter.

I did, however, also come across a new stalker! Yay, more free Starbucks! Apparently new reader, Mr. V, read my old post about the rocker contest and wished he could have gotten in on the competition. Here’s his submission…

Pretty impressive. Welcome to the family...

MsP

And now a msg from some famous people...

2008-10-06T13:14:00.000-07:00

The countdown continues, one more month!!!

Friends Without Benefits

2008-10-02T01:17:00.000-07:00

I love my friends. I especially love my guy friends. I learn so much about men from them.

Like for example, I didn’t know that it was possible to have a brown ring around the inside of a toilet bowl for two months without catching hepatitis A,B, and C. I also didn’t know that it takes four 24-packs of empty Coors Light bottles to cover an entire coffee table. And who knew somehow in the midst of old fast food bags, dirty laundry and beard shavings my best guy friend could maintain a healthy relationship. Huh. They must spend more time at her house than his. I’m not sure.

Still, it’s just interesting to me how different guys think compared to women. This particular guy friend of mine not only has a messy abode, but he has some interesting convictions about me and another female friend of ours. You see, him, this other female friend and I all basically grew up together, so we’re all close. In fact, they're like brother and sister to me.

Anyway, he called me yesterday just to say, hi, and he got to talking about how the three of us should all get a hotel room and “get crazy”. Now from a female’s perspective, I took this notion as him suggestion a potential threesome? He immediately bursts out laughing and says no, he meant like just hang out, catch up, blah, blah, blah…

Then he pauses for a minute and says, “Wait, you two have never messed around?” (In reference to me and my girl).

“Um no”, I responded, “Are you fucking retarded?”

“No I’m serious,” he said. “Like you two have never gotten drunk, come home and bitched about how shitty guys are. Then got naked, kissed and one thing led to another?”

“NO!” I yelled (laughing at this point). “What made you think that!?”

“I don't know, but nothing,” he asked again. “Not even like a little kiss?”

Really??? Wait, so guys think that females who are really close have lesbian tendencies? Is that the fantasy?

Well, let me clear this up right now. When I come home with my friends drunk and bitch about a guy, we usually do it stuffing our faces with Jack-n-the-Box and then pass out in our heels and make-up. Waking up the next morning looking like a raccoon and wondering why our friend is face first in the toilet…imagine that.

Fatty's Workout Plan

2008-09-30T23:37:00.001-07:00

[nice shorts!]

Are you sitting down? If not you should sit down for this one…

I joined 24-Hour Fitness. (Insert loud gasp of shock here).

I know, I know, me in spandex, not the business. But fatty’s hungry. Fatty’s got to eat. And fatty doesn’t want to feel guilty for ordering a drink, an appetizer, the whole left side of the menu, desert, a cow and a little something extra to go. Ya know, the works.

If I don’t like jogging, I really don’t like jogging in the rain. I hate the rain and by the end of October it’s going to be way to cold for me to do any outdoor activities. I might have to even cut back on my stalking and fence hopping, because I’m a baby when it comes to being cold.

So now I get to join the meatheads and tiny bitches in spandex. Can’t wait. I updated my iPod, so hopefully I can drown everyone out and will only have to put up with the smell of sweaty metal and balls. Yum.

Wish me luck bitches! I start tomorrow.

MsP

Fresh Sealed Eye Candy To Go, Please

2008-09-27T20:02:00.000-07:00

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????

Be Out!

2008-09-25T12:59:00.000-07:00

I don’t know about you guys, but I sure am going to sleep better tonight knowing that Clay Aiken is out. I still don’t get the whole having a kid thing, but at least it explains why the sound of his music makes me want to go and buy shoes.

I like the gays.

Despite what some of you may think, I’m not gay. I prefer the churro to the taco. Although, I haven’t got laid since the Raiders made it to the Super Bowl, I am still a big fan of the shaboinka.

Gay marriage doesn’t bug me either. The idea of GOGA is kind of hot. Shit, Katy Perry kissed a girl, she liked it and she has a man.

Yes it grosses me out imagining a grown ass man with a dick in his booty looking back at his lover saying, “Gimme more, gimme.” However, gay sex can’t be any more disgusting than old people sex. Right?

So I don’t see why two people can’t be together just because their genitals are the same. Since the divorce rate is so high might as well give it a try.

No Pictures Please

2008-09-22T00:06:00.000-07:00

I’m famous beeotches! Well kind of, but not really.

See what had happened was I was minding my own bizness when all of a sudden, the Cunning Linguist’s 12 inch penis landed in my email box. I was surprised as you could only imagine, but came (oh that was bad) and found out that he wanted to interview me for his blog! Yay!

I was going to post it here, but he has it up already in his page. So check it out! I gave a few shout outs too!

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Real quick and random I also wanted to post up some music therapy for anyone who’s interested. I didn’t get blind sighted with a meme or tagged or nothing like that, but I thought I would share some of the songs I’m feeling at the moment.

Please enjoy because it’s better than my initial list of top five people I would most like to punch in the balls.

John Legend-Greenlight
Estelle-Come Over
Kardinal Offishal ft Akon- Dangerous
Donnie klang- Idol
Christina Aguilera- Keeps Getting Better

I’m downloading, any more music to add to my list???

A Nice Shade of Blue

2008-09-19T10:22:00.001-07:00

This is what my roomie busted out for breakfast yesterday. Hot dogs with ketchup and a waffle with syrup. On the same plate. At the same time. I thought I was going to throw up. And yes that is hot sauce in the background.

Times are hard man.
Wha wha wha wha.
My baby left me.
Wha wha wha wha.
I can't find a job.
Wha wha wha wha.
I'm so hungry.
Wha wha wha wha.
I got to eat hot dogs!

Oh! Damn right, I got the blues.

An Open Letter to White People Who Get Drunk and Think They Can Dance Good

2008-09-17T13:43:00.000-07:00

Dear white people who get drunk and think they can dance good,

First of all, let me start by saying I feel your pain because I’m half white. My mom has the ability to bop her head, clap her hands, stomp her feet all on a different beat and still manage to be off beat. (Although in her defense she doesn’t drink and it takes a lot of coaxing to get her out on the dance floor). However, my mom’s nonexistent rhythm seems to be a trend among white people and I must put a stop to it.

I guess what I am trying to say is that white people shouldn’t dance. Ever. Just don’t do it. I’ll give you a get-on-on-the-dance-floor-for-free-card for weddings and Bar/Ba Mitzvahs, but the club is OFF LIMITS! Not only do I have to watch that shit, but it looks painful. Your clumsy drunk body being pulled in different directions all at the same time is really confusing and weird.

The slogan, “BEER: Helping white people dance since 1942,” is wrong. What it should read is, “BEER: Helping white people get drunk enough so that they feel the need to get on the dance floor and flop around uncontrollably like a fish with Tourette syndrome.”

The hopping up and down thing or jogging arms, kind of saves you white people, but not really. The thing is that you might wake up in the morning and not remember shit about being on the dance floor, but I do white people. I do. So please, for the love of the downbeat, please get drunk and mingle instead of trying to “cut a rug.”

Thanks.

MsP

I went crazy, but now I'm back.

2008-09-14T18:30:00.001-07:00

A Picture of MsP the night she went crazy.

Are you there readers? It’s me, Ms Puddin’.

I had a Britney moment over the weekend. No I didn’t shave my head or give birth, but I did do some crazy shit. Too make a long story short I got into a fight with the ex in the club on Friday night. (Yeah I know, because I’m like so totally mature, right)?

Security literally lifted me out of my barstool and out of the club. On my way out, the ex had the nerve to take a Corona and dump it all on my clothes, my hair, my face, everything! I'm already getting kicked out, was that really necessary?

Ms Puddin’ was P-I-S-S-E-D.

However, by the time I got halfway down the block, I was over the argument and getting tossed out of the club, but the fact that he added that last little beer douche was what pushed me 51/50.

So I did the next logical thing that popped into my head. I went over to his house and I had a Kelis “I Hate You So Much Right Now!” moment. I fucked his shit up. Technically I didn’t really break or vandalize anything, I just made a mess he was going to have to clean up.

So now when I meet guys and they ask me that stupid question, “Why are you single? Is it because you’re crazy or something?” I can say, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a crazy fucking bitch.”

Ironically I was wearing a really pretty black and glittery cross around my neck that night. So the next day I told my friend in the midst of everything that it somehow got ripped from my neck and was going to ask her if she would help me look for it.

She replied with a, “No, I think God ripped that off of your neck that night.”

I think she is right too. God was like, “Time out, I’m going to need that back, thanks.”

When I sobered up the next day I felt like shit. I hate this situation I’m in with him right now. I hate that it still even exists. I know that in the end it is going to be me who is going to have to grow some and make sure nothing like that ever happens again.

So yeah anyway, that's why I'm crazy...

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Oh! I almost forgot, on a side-positive-whole-other note. I went to go see Janet Jackson bitches!

It. Was. Awesome. I feel complete.

And I was sitting next to one of the flaming of the flamingest couples ever and we took turns screaming like teenie boppers, “We love you Janet!”

Best part of the whole concert. Must see!

Holy Pop Culture!

2008-09-09T00:21:00.001-07:00

Haha. Swipe!

Ok where was this party and why wasn’t I invited???!!! >:-/

I'm just saying, can a sista get a table dance?

Sooooo, I have a confession to make. I kissed girl and I liked it. Just kidding. No really, I liked it. Ok, ok for real, my confession is that I think Miley Cyrus is kind of badass. I just wish she were a little older so I wouldn’t feel so guilty about enjoying her not contributing to society.

Don’t tell anybody I just said that either…

Well, if it isn’t obvious enough, I watched the VMAs. This is exciting news guys! I don’t have cable, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

However, I watched it with a bunch of guys, which was a bad fuckin’ idea. All I heard the whole time was how thick Rhianna’s thighs are and how many Kama Sutra positions she is wanted in. It's bad enough the bitch already stole my man, now I got to hear about her sexy thighs? Ugh.

It’s cool though, because I have a new crush. Oh yeah, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, sexy nerd. You could be my McLovin anytme baby.

PS- I know I suck at blogging right now. Please feel free to give me a cyber slap in my comments.

MsP

The MILF Who Killed My Ego

2008-09-02T12:00:00.000-07:00

TRUE STORY:

The go go company that I dance with had a live photo shoot at a night club on Sunday. It was make-up artists, costumes, Michael Vincent, the whole nine. So in the midst of the mayhem I made numerous trips to the bathroom to make sure that everything was in place.

I noticed that there was a lady who seemed to be in the bathroom mirror every time I was in there. So I said to her, “Every time I’m in here, you’re here.”

“Yeah, maybe we’re on the same schedule,” she responded.

“Maybe,” I said.

“Sooo,” she said. “How many kids do you have?”

How many kids do I have!!!? NONE. And isn’t the question, do you have any kids, not how many?

“I don’t have any kids, what makes you think I have kids?” I asked.

“Oh, just the way you carry yourself, you seem more mature than the other girls,” she said.

I’m wearing booty shorts and my bra is showing, how in the hell does that scream, “I’m more mature bitches!?”

“No I think that was just a nice way of saying, hey you look fat in your skimpy photo shoot outfit,” I said.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “Don’t worry hon, I have two kids and look at me.”

She was a total MILF, probably in her late 30s, brunette, with big rubber titties. Possibly some work done on her face, but I couldn’t put it past her that she looked good.

“Well, I have a degree, that’s my baby,” I boasted a little bit.

“Oh what do you have your degree in,” she asked.

“I have a BS in journalism,” I told her.

“Oh yeah, that’s good,” she said. “I have my Masters in speech.”

Great, now not only am I a fat ass, I’m a dumbass too. I could feel my bubble burst all over the bathroom mirror. Who the hell was this lady? Was she working for Satan?

Note to self: Don’t start small talk with random MILFs in bathrooms unless you’re under the influence or covered up.

Random funny shit up in this bitch!

2008-08-27T10:29:00.000-07:00

My little brother had that strip on his MySpace. Should I be worried?

So, I read on BestWeekEver’s blog that Diddy can’t fly his private jet because gas prices are too high. Yes he is forced to fly commercial like the rest of us. I don’t know if I feel sorry for Diddy or the people sitting next to him in first class.

Could you imagine sitting next to him and his walk-and-get-me-a-cheesecake-at-4a.m.-on 24th-avenue attitude? I might finally have an excuse to write a letter to someone about these prices. Can someone please lower gas prices, before Diddy puts a stewardess into the crazy house?

I found this clip of George Keith on SketchyPremise from awhile ago. If you’ve already seen it, then don’t fucking watch it. If you haven’t, check it out. He had me dying talking about his non-comedy job and ex-wife.

Skinny Bitches Only Jog if They Can't Afford Surgery

2008-08-25T09:47:00.000-07:00

I’ve decided that after thirty I’m not working out anymore. I’m just going to go and get all the fat sucked out of my body. I’m serious, I want Dr. Rey or somebody to take that big long metal knife and chop me up into little pieces.

Maybe also do some rearranging, like pull the fat from my thighs and put it into my ass. Then mold my gut into some kind of boobage/cleavage creation. That’s right. Get creative! Make me beautiful bitches! By the time I am thirty they will have discovered new ways to make me look like a ten-year-old on crack.

Until then I must eat right and exercise. I say this like I’m on a Jedi mission. Which is the only reason why when my so-called friend asked me to go jogging the other day I said, “yes”.

I don’t jog. Wait, let me rephrase that, I can’t fucking jog. It’s like the Special Olympics. I look like a four-year-old in the grocery store, when their mom just told them they couldn’t have something. You know and they do that run where their head turns into a bobble head and their arms flail around uncontrollably. And they whine, “but mom whyeeeeeeeeee!?”

Yeah that’s me, in spandex.

The last time I went jogging was at the gym and it’s been a few years. I remember huffing and puffing on a treadmill, when this chick like eight months pregnant hops on next to me. No really, not fat she was fucking skinny and pregnant.

After about 5 whole minutes of running I couldn’t take it anymore. My chest started to burn, I needed a hip replacement and I lost all feeling in my knees. And here this bitch was next to me just casually jogging for two.

So anyway, my friend and I ended up on this two-mile trail through the woods. All of which I probably only jogged a good fifteen minutes. The whole time I was thinking about what I was going to eat next. Three days later, my knees are still swollen and I don’t feel any skinnier.

I’m telling ya, I can’t wait until I’m thirty…

Stop and ask for a GPS system...

2008-08-22T10:35:00.000-07:00

*disclaimer*- this blog post has nothing to do with the show LOST. Sorry.

I recently gave my parents two options: they can either buy me a new car with a GPS system in it or they can buy me a Blackberry GPS. It’s a win, win situation. Just because they cut me off doesn’t mean they can’t but me gifts, right?

And trust me, it’s an emergency. I have so many old folded up mapquest papers in the side of my car door, my friends keep asking me if I run a secret escort service. That’s a good idea, but negative. I just have a really bad sense of direction.

And when it comes to stopping and asking for directions, I’m like a guy. For some reason I’d rather drive around in circles for hours, than stop to ask for directions. Unless, of course, I have to pee and then I miraculously turn back into a girl.

Actually, I’m kind of used to driving around in circles. I get to know the area better to prevent it in the future. So until I get a GPS system in some shape or form and you are riding with me, be prepared to take the scenic route.

My McDreamy

2008-08-21T11:26:00.000-07:00

Speaking of men…

I tried to post this singles add on craigslist, but it got sent back to me. The email read something about inappropriate content. Humph. How can I put out there what I’m looking for in a man if the Internet won’t let me? Anyway, here is the ad, you be the judge…

I am looking for a man who is between 6’ and 6’2”and has a great sense of humor. He must be moderately good looking with excellent hygiene. I don’t like pretty boys. Preferably a Libra, but I will also take Gemini or an Aries.

Penis size should be not too big and not too small. If things aren't looking good in this department, compensate.

I want an educated man who is still street smart. I don’t care what business he’s in, just as long as it isn’t drug or ho related. MUST pay taxes.

Please no baby mama drama. If you do have A kid that is great, however, they must not be a whiny little brat. Preferably potty trained and if they act up I get the right to karate chop them in the side of the neck.

About me: I am a 24-yr-old bartender, who is educated, but hasn’t quite found her niche yet. I’m not desperate, just bored with it all and wanted to spice things up. If you are interested, please email me at (mspuddin [at] gmail [dot] com).

And may the best man win.

Chivalry Died, The Penis Killed It

2008-08-20T00:00:00.000-07:00

Ok boys, I’m going to give each and every one of you a chance to defend yourself, but not before I pop you all upside the back of the head.

Honestly, I am disappointed in the men of my generation at the moment. I’m not just speaking from my own experience this time, because three, not one, not two, but three of my girls hit me up over this last week with some, “oh hell naw!” stories about the men in their lives. From infidelity to lying to saying some stupid shit like, “you’ll have to leave the bar right now you’re fucking up my game.”

????????????????

I’m sorry, the only girls I will condone that kind of behavior towards is maybe the ones who walk around with T-shirts that read, “save a virgin, do me instead,” or “cock-a-doodle-do-me.” And I blame them too, but other than that, unacceptable.

Focus boys, focus. If you can’t grasp the concept that girls in porn get paid good money to two-girls-one-cup-it, we got a problem. Please understand reality TV is far from reality and networks purposely cast those girls to walk around on camera in their booty shorts with their titties hanging out.

They get paid to get drunk and make out with half the cast and staff. In fact it's more than likely in their contracts right next to, "blow the director." Besides most of them probably also have the I.Q. of a grape. And since when is that sexy?

What is the deal yo?

Guys listen up—pull out a fucking chair, buy some freakin’ flowers and “you’re ass looks phat in those jeans” does not constitute as a compliment. Also, don’t tell a girl you want to be with her if you can’t back it up by your actions.

For the most part I’m just really disgusted. I know some of the guys that read my blog are married, faithful and all around good guys. Well can you leave some pointers to the rest of the dumbasses out there?

Right now I am opening up my comments for a session on the etiquette of how to treat a lady or at least how to weed the ladies out from the floozies. And for those of you fellas who feel the need to defend yourselves, please, be my guests, because I just don’t get it.

Happy Go MsP

2008-08-17T20:38:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-13T19:56:00.001-07:00

*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

My cloud is black with a good chance of rain...

2008-08-12T19:55:00.000-07:00

“It’s okay,” I told my aunt the other night at dinner. “I have bad karma, I’m used to it.”

“What makes you think that,” she asked.

“I just keep having bad things happen to me lately,” I said. “I assume it’s because I did something to somebody somewhere.”

She looks at me and says, “Let me tell you a story…”

I just got back from visiting a friend of mine from college. She is a single mother, who took her daughter to Europe on vacation. While vacationing, someone stole her purse, which had all form of identification (I.D./passport) and money. She had to go to the police and even the American Embassy for help. After pulling teeth she manages to get some money wired to her from America and issues for a new passport.

Then while leaving the airport she puts all of her luggage on one of those carts. You know the big wobbly carts with three wheels that you load up and take in the elevator. Well, she is extra paranoid after her theft experience, so she decides to take it on the escalator instead. All is well until she gets to the bottom of the escalator and the front wheel gets stuck. She goes flying over the cart and all of her luggage landing on her arm. She ends up in the hospital hemorrhaging with blood everywhere.

She is a good strong woman who is now telling me what you said, about having bad karma.

“No,” I said. “That is just some really bad luck.”

“Yeah, I think that sometimes people go through a really hard time and it puts them in this negative mind frame. A state of mind where they start to assume everyone and everything is out to get them.”

“And things always tend to get a whole lot worse before they get any better,” I added.

“From my experience that is true as well,” she said.

The bad can happen to the best of us, I guess. I got to change my mind frame, it’s depressing…

R.I.P B. Mac

2008-08-09T15:10:00.000-07:00

I’m pretty sure everyone has heard the sad news by now, but Bernie Mac passed away this morning at the age of 50. I just wanted to pay a little tribute, because he will be missed.

Oh and if you haven’t read his auto-biography, “Maybe You Never Cry Again,” check it out, it’s a great read.

Peace~Love~& Laughter

MsP

Silence Is My Aphrodisiac

2008-08-06T01:22:00.001-07:00

Well I’m still doing this bartending thing until I can find a decent “grown up people’s” job. Like I, of all people, need to be any closer to alcohol or other people drinking alcohol. However, booze and money in the same spot is right up there with getting some head in heaven. And just for saying that I am probably going to take it up the ass in hell. :-(

Anyway, I was relocated through my company to a different restaurant. Nothing I did, just something to do with some remodeling. It’s the same business, but in a more snooty area and a little more fast paced. Basically this means I have to put up with more shit, but I’ll be making better money. So I guess it evens out.

Although, can I just say that if one more creepy old guy sits at my bar, I’m going to stab him in the balls with my wine key. And that might hurt a bit.

I’m serious. You over there, with the seven and seven, don’t think I can’t see you looking down my shirt as I bend over into the well. And you over there workin’ on your fifth pint, mentioning that oysters are your aphrodisiac before ordering half a dozen is unnecessary.

What do I recommend, you ask? I recommend that you quit staring at my ass, close out your tab and go home to your wife and kids!

Oh and this is for the rest of you know-it-alls, who sit at the bar with the only intention of trying to make a mockery of me. Do I look like I care that you know more about the wines here than I do, because I don’t.

At the end of the day, grape texture serves of no purpose to me but a big chunk of useless information. It reminds me of learning Pi (3.14) in high school. When have I used Pi? Never. Not once has it come in handy. Not at the grocery store, the gas station, during sex, in the shower, not even while surfing the internet has Pi come up as a solution.

I hate to be a bitch, but order a drink and shut the fuck up.

Can anyone pull any strings, because I WANT TO WORK FOR DIDDY!

Not really.

Picture of the Week

2008-08-04T01:50:00.001-07:00

Man, so much for change.

I've been trying (not very hard) to steer this blog away from its usual debauchery, however, this picture was too priceless not to post and make a banner out of. I just had to put it up. I’m so deep and meaningful it hurts.

What were we doing? I have no idea. a) totally making out and getting hot and heavy outside the bar. b) cement wrestling. or c) we were just plain old sloppy drunk bitches who fell and could not get the fuck up.

Anyway, I’m trying to start something called 'drunktalk' on my blog. With that said, if anyone knows how to take video from a digital camera and make it youtube style, holla at me…

Obama Overload

2008-07-30T18:54:00.000-07:00

Ok my mom emailed me this earlier today.

Then my cousin just sent me a link to Ludacris' new endorsement of Obama.

Lyrics:

I'm back on it like I just signed my record deal
yeah the best is here, the Bentley Coup paint is dripping wet, it got sex appeal
never should have hated
you never should've doubted him
with a slot in the president's iPod Obama shattered 'em
Said I handled his biz and I'm one of his favorite rappers
Well give Luda a special pardon if I'm ever in the slammer
Better yet put him in office, make me your vice president
Hillary hated on you, so that b^$&%* is irrelevant
Jesse talking slick and apologizing for what?
if you said it then you meant it how you want it have a gut!
and all you other politicians trying to hate on my man,
watch us win a majority vote in every state on my man
you can't stop what's bout to happen, we bout to make history
the first black president is destined and it's meant to be
the threats ain't fazing us, the nooses or the jokes
so get off your ass, black people, it's time to get out and vote!
paint the White House black and I'm sure that's got 'em terrified
McCain don't belong in ANY chair unless he's paralyzed
Yeah I said it cause Bush is mentally handicapped
Ball up all of his speeches and I throw em like candy wrap
cause what you talking I hear nothing even relevant
and you the worst of all 43 presidents
get out and vote or the end will be near
the world is ready for change because Obama is here!
cause Obama is here
The world is ready for change because Obama is here!

I'm not mad, just ready to see what is going to happen next, ya know?

Backwards Love

2008-07-28T09:09:00.001-07:00

I had an epiphany. I know, I know, me in deep thought may come as a shock, but humor me here. I could be onto something...

I was driving in my car the other day when that Mary J. Blidge song came on the radio, “Not Gon’ Cry.” Remember that song from Waiting to Exhale, outlining Angela Bassett’s character? The woman who was married to her man for 11 years, helped him build his company success, had two of his children, then he had an affair (with a white woman) and left her?

Well I was thinking, they’re relationship probably started out all honeymoon-like. They met, fell in love and things were great, long walks, long conversations, lots of sex and quality time. That was, until he started thinking with his dick, totally fucked her and tried to take everything she had worked so hard for.

I’m thinking that since people tend to get married to get divorced, this scenario is all too familiar for most.

Then there are other people, (like me), who meet their significant other and they start showin’ they ass within like the first few weeks. Not to be too specific, but a rude, lazy, selfish, player, with no intentions to commit, no direction and so not worth the time and effort, who one day realizes that he is a jerkface and the two of you were meant to be.

Basically what I’m saying is that maybe we should start dating backwards, ya know? Like get all of our flaws out of the way in the beginning of the relationship, so in the end we can live happily ever without divorce or compromising surprises.

Ok this could be a really lame justification for my personal dating situation or a brilliant revelation...

Top 5 Drunk Moments in Puddin' History

2008-07-26T01:16:00.000-07:00

This is my 200^th post! Yeah boi! Lets get naked!

In honor of myself (really, enough about me), I thought it would be cool to take a stumble down my drunken memory lane. Pretty much to remind us all that a camera + alcohol = a bad idea.

So please, sit back, grab a cocktail and enjoy the Top 5 Drunk Moments in Puddin' History...

A recent pic of me at a rock star party strikin’ my signature pose…

I couldn’t even get up, but I sure was trying…

Ok, I’m not even sure whose car that was and I’m pretty sure my friends just propped that cigarette in my hand to make me look even cooler…

Just feeling up a guy in his wedding dress, don’t mind me…

I’m such a fuckin’ lady…

Ok that last one wasn’t me. Seriously.

MsP

The Art of Stalking

2008-07-24T11:34:00.000-07:00

The difference between a female and a male stalker is this: A female stalker will call you repeatedly, hanging up as soon as you answer. If, and only if, you tick her off she will speak, cussing you out, but then hanging up before you get a word in edgewise.

A male stalker will stay on the phone long enough to breath into the phone so much that your ear may become moist. He might even dry heave a few words at you like, “What are you doing?” or “Do I make you horny baby?”

I can appreciate a good stalker every now and again.

Sometimes they come in handy when I forget the password to my MySpace page or can’t remember which gas station was the cheapest. Not only do my personal stalkers bring me the paper and Starbucks, but also I can occasionally get some lurkers to comment over here every now and again. Thanks guys. :)

Don’t feel bad if you fit into any of the categories above, for I am a certified grade A stalker myself. I’ve master sliding into my camel-toe-tight-cat-suit and then lurking beneath my ex’s window in the bushes. Waiting to see what he is up to or watching his cable for free in through the window.

Ok let me rephrase that, it’s not so much a cat suit as me naked and not so much me hiding in the bushes, but more so me drunk, inconspicuously (eagle spread) passed out on his front lawn.

Ok so maybe I lied and I’m not the best stalker. So what, I’m a liar and a really good trespasser. Whatever.

Anyway, the last few nights I’ve been receiving an anonymous phone call. Last night anon caller called me 27 times! At 2 a.m.! All of which I answered once, where he proceeded to breath inauspiciously into the phone and then say in a low voice, “I just want three minutes of your time.”

I was really struggling to imagine what kind of low life f*ck would keep pestering me. Was it the hottie I gave my number to last weekend at the bar, through my blurred vision?

Aw, crap-on-a-condom. It probably was. Well, there are better ways to ask a girl out on a date. I just hope I don’t end up a victim like in some made-for-TV horror movie…

I know I haven’t posted or whored around on other blogs in almost a week, but can I distract you with the fact that *gasp* Britney Spederline looks almost normal!!!!!!!!!????????

Would you rather…

2008-07-18T12:15:00.001-07:00

…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???

Sunny Side Up

2008-07-16T20:32:00.000-07:00

This stupid quarter-life crisis thingy is taking up a lot of my time. And I’m finding out that too many people that I know read this blog. It makes for an awkward situation when I bump into someone and they’re like, “I really like your writing, but I think you might have a drinking problem.”

Goddamnit!

I’m going through a personal crisis right now, drinking is the least of my problems. I’ve ate all the food in my house, used up all the gas in my car and have probably applied to every single job opening on craigslist. I could use a drink. Actually, I’m thinking of AA just for the free food, coffee and group support from a bunch of other losers probably far off worse than me.

I’m just saying.

Let me break this down for those who still can’t quite feel my pain. Some people graduate from high school and then go straight into the work force. They might have a job that they hate for the rest of their life, but they have experience.

Other’s (like me) go to college for ten years, party, have sex, act like a gay whore on parade day and then graduate with a degree and no experience. They can’t even experience having a job that they hate, because no one will hire them.

I'm such a brat, I know.

And then the ex pointed out that most writers don’t get the recognition they deserve until after they die. I love how when I am down there is always someone there to help me look at the bright side of things. =)

Find me in a better mood here.

Here I Am

2008-07-10T09:36:00.000-07:00

Thank God I found me. I’m over here today guys.

Actually, unless I get too drunk, pass out on public transportation and wake up naked, face down on the beach again, (or at least I think that was the beach, it was sandy), I should be here every Thursday.

MsP

Yes, Fatty Is Hungry

2008-07-08T11:42:00.000-07:00

Ok I need to know how much cookie dough does it take before you die?

I’m serious. I have been grubbin’ lately. My roommate’s friend saw some of my pictures on MySpace and asked her, “How does your roommate stay so thin?”

She’s like, “I don’t know, all she does is sit on the couch and eat popcorn.”

This is true, but sometimes it’s popcorn and other times it’s using nacho cheese or a tub of butter to dip my rack of lamb into. The weirdest part is that I really don’t work out. I would rather get a dick up the nose or see Bush re-elected as president than go to the gym.

The most exercise I probably got all last week was walking to the car to go out to dinner with my friend. When we got there, at first I had water and a glass of wine. Then I had a small salad with ranch and the shrimp appetizer. Then I ordered the Lemon Herb Chicken with asparagus, a side of mash potatoes and a side of rice. Then I had a shot.

I know I’m not pregnant. You have to have sex to get pregnant. Although I hope I don’t start looking like I’m pregnant. The day I look down and can’t see my own vagina, I might need to get up and run around the block or something…

Oh! I found another blogger with the right idea, a boyfriend application. Feel free to apply.

Not Wanted

2008-07-04T00:01:00.000-07:00

The job search isn’t going so well. =(

I finally dusted off my 2007 copy of Writer’s Market and as I turned to the page entitled, “Successful Freelancers”, to Larry Getlen’s smiling face I wanted to punch him in the face.

Except he was on paper so I couldn’t. However, when I flipped the page there were maybe two or three more other successful freelancers. And I kind of felt better. Like there is a chance in hell that I will be taken seriously as a writer someday and live out this “romantic career” as my mother calls it.

Speaking of my mom, we’re having a total email battle at the moment. Apparently we are both too busy to pick up the phone to simply yell at each other. Although it would probably sound something like this…

Mom: Blah! Blah! Blah!

Me: Omigod mom, you’re like so totally ruining my life!

I’m so mature, I know. I think I graduated from college and started high school all over again.

The 411 is that I’m the only girl out of four boys and therefore I am spoiled. $100 shoes used to constitute as a credit card emergency. When I was in school my parents were helping me financially and now that I have a degree they are cutting me off cold turkey. Sh*t, I haven’t even received that sucker in the mail yet, but no gas money, no booze money, no omigod-I wonder-if-they-have-those-in-my-size money, I gets nada.

Well I guess on the bright side, if I don’t find a decent job and my internet and phone get cut off I won’t have to listen to my mom b*tch anymore. According to her, it is really easy to find a job and I’m just not trying hard enough. It’s good motivation, but f*ck. If she gets any further up my ass I won’t even be able to fart, which is almost as important as finding a job.

*Oh and btw I have been diagnosed with Gerontophobia aka Fogiariasis aka Stank Heffaitis. So please keep all falsies, Depends and other things closely linked with death off this blog.

Thanks, MsP.

PS- Happy Fourth! Don't play with fireworks, you could die. =(

Bitch should have taken the stairs...

2008-07-03T10:16:00.000-07:00

Slaus this one is for you...

Also, now I need a word for the fear of old people or a phobia of old people, something in that nature. I think once we diagnose it and get me some medication, I can solve this problem and people won’t think I’m so mean.

If I were an assassin, I wouldn’t get punked by old ladies…

2008-07-01T10:51:00.001-07:00

I went to see Wanted yesterday by myself. I like going to movies alone, but Wanted was one I could have seen with someone else. However, I didn’t feel like going through all the trouble of finding a compatible schedule with a guy or a friend just to see a movie, so I said “f*ck it” and went stag.

I get into the theatre and there were about three other people in there as it was a matinee. One guy even cracked a joke as I sat down, “I’m sorry ma’am, but I don’t think there are enough seats left for you to watch this movie”.

I smirked a little, copping a seat in the handicap section. You know the place right in the middle where there is a gap between the bottom rows and the top.

Halfway through the previews an older couple comes in. I’m chowin’ down on my nachos not really paying attention to them as they are looking for seats. That is until the old lady comes right up next to me and asks if anyone is sitting where my purse is. I’m sorry, because the whole theatre is empty. I have bad luck with old ladies, so I decided to just get up and move one aisle up instead of arguing with her.

“You don’t have to leave,” she said.

I know I don’t, but I don’t understand why out of the entire deserted theatre, you have to sit your old crusty ass right next to me. I don’t want to sit next to you, humph.

The old man did have a cane, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

The movie wasn’t how I thought it was going to be, but it didn’t suck either. Seriously though, if Angelina Jolie is in one more movie as an assassin, I’m going to start thinking she is one in real life.

She looks like one, sh*t. I bet she is training all seven of her children to kill.

Although, I wish that when my life sucks and I have a panic attack, I could get in on my dad’s secret life as an assassin and substantial bank account. Being if my dad were an assassin in the first place. I could take out old ladies who think that just because they are old they can steal my movie theatre seats.

*hi-yah!* Bitch I’m a ninja, I will cut you!

On a side note, I found my soul mate in the blog world. He is a redneck and hilarious, check him out!

Also, vote for me here! I’m under humor and I gets no love… =(

But enough about me...

2008-06-28T21:53:00.000-07:00

What am I doing right now?

Well, if you really must know, I’m sitting at home on a Saturday night, nursing a hangover with a Bloody Mary and popcorn. (Weird combo, I know). I just don’t get it, when I am bored as f*ck, pumped up and ready to go, no one calls me or answers their phone. When I’m tired and not in the mood to socialize, everyone and the f*cking president calls me to go out.

I think even Jesus just called me to see if I wanted to go cloud hopping with him, for real.

Sorry Jesus, but I’m in for the night. I'm sitting on my couch, ah, um, reflecting. Yeah that's it, reflecting...

I had my first job interview last week. I probably shouldn’t be posting about it, seeing as how I’m trying to get a writing job and most potential employers have asked for a link to my blog along with my resume. Haha. Maybe that’s why I still haven’t found a job?

Anyway, during my interview, she kept coming back to the same question of, “so what do you like to do?” or “so tell me about yourself.” By the third time she asked me what my hobbies were, I was really tempted to go ahead and tell her.

“In my spare time I dress up like a dominatrix, stalk the evil lurkers in the night and break dance. (I can do a killer robot). I also enjoy getting drunk, hopping my ex’s fence and passing out on his doorstep.”

Violá! So there you have it. I’m just your average Puddin’.

Seriously, how much should people be allowed to talk about themselves? Is it just me, or is it awkward to continuously toot your own horn? Ok kind of funny how that last sentence can be interpreted in more ways than one…

Can't you see my halo?

2008-06-25T10:40:00.000-07:00

I went on a date last night with married guy. He’s divorced now. It’s funny how things happen. My very first post on this blog was about having an affair with married guy and here I am dating him. Well let me clarify, his wife had up and left him for eight months before he met me. Why? That is their business, not mine.

Anyway, we actually had a really nice time. It sucks because besides from all the drama, him and me really have a great friendship. Yes I agree, Ms Puddin’ has bad taste in men. Yes I agree, I probably have no business giving him of all people a second chance, but he took me to Maggianos.

Fatty’s hungry, fatty’s got to eat.

Then he took me to a nice little bar tucked away where we could enjoy each other’s company. Man he had all the tricks up his sleeve that night. Taking me to a bar is like taking a five-year-old to Legoland, just heavenly, simply the best.

No sex, but I don’t regret bringing him back into my life. I think time is on my side on this one. Not to mention, the ex, (my most recent trespassing victim) called to say that he has up and moved to Atlanta. Good. Maybe I will finally get over getting drunk, hopping his fence and stalking him.

Time for MsP to find some new hobbies… sewing, pottery, cooking? I told my guy friend the other day that I was going to go grocery shopping.

He’s all, “why, since when do you cook?” And then he started busting up laughing.

Damn.

“Ok maybe I can’t cook, but I can make a mean cocktail,” I replied.

“I don’t doubt that,” he responded back.

I'm changing my name to Candy...

2008-06-23T17:04:00.000-07:00

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…

Just a few random things I thought I'd bitch about...

2008-06-18T15:26:00.001-07:00

Ok so I’m jumping on the bandwagon, I am now officially a Celtics fan. Seriously, last night the Celtics put the Laker’s asses on a silver platter with croissants and served it to them. “Bon appetit.” Not only that, but the west coast is not doing so hot in sports period. The Celtics, the Red Sox, the Patriots, etc., the west coast needs to step their game up.

On another note, Hulk Hogan’s son, Nick is a little whiny bitch. This fool has the nerve to drink and drive, turning his friend, (not some random person in the street), but his friend into a vegetable and complain about it. His friend is breathing through a machine and he has the nerve to bitch about how hard jail is. Whaaaaa, whaaaa, whaaaaaaaaa. Man, bend over, pick up your soap and take it like a man.

Oh and this is not funny. AT ALL…

I'm out of town again bitches. I'm sneaking computer time right now, literally in a dark corner, hiding. Be back soon...

Borachas

2008-06-13T21:40:00.000-07:00

Ok I’m back, but before I get into my trip let me just say I am shocked that some of you don’t know what a donkey show is. Although, lets just keep it that way, shall we? Also I didn't bring the digital, because I didn't want to get drunk and drop it in the pool or period. So this trip is brought to you by Kodak...

Mexico was fucking fantastic.

I’ve never been outside of the U.S. before. By my third night in Cabo I was literally living off of anti-diarrhea medicine, nacho cheese and espressos. I was afraid to shit because I wasn’t sure what was going to come out of my ass, but it was so worth it.

In fact, when my girl told her grandma we were going to Mexico, her grandma told her to go to the pharmacy and specifically tell them, “I’m going to Mexico”. We came loaded with sunscreen, Excedrin, Chasers, Tylenol, Advil, tampons, anti-diarrhea medication, Beano and of course Pedialyte.

We were not playing around.

Our flight left out of San Francisco early Saturday morning.

My girl started drinking on the flight, while I passed out. When we landed she turned to me and said, “I think I’m already hung over.” I started laughing. It was going to be an interesting vacation.

After we went through customs, immigration and all of that, our resort was a 45-minute drive from the airport. When we pulled up to the Rio Santa Fe, they handed us two Coronas and two shots of tequila. No, I’m serious, they really did...

Our trip was all-inclusive so once we checked in, they gave us wristbands, which made it possible for us to eat and drink anywhere at the resort at any time. There was a mini bar in our room that they restocked every 24-hours if necessary. There was a 24-hour sports bar, a disco, swim up bars, side bars, hard bars, back bars, tequila bars, ok you get the point.

After we got settled and dressed to go out, we headed for the sports bar. I asked Pedro (the guy behind the bar) if he had any blueberry vodka.

“Jajajaja,” he said. And then he made us these…

Some blue drank! (Laughing, because it was all bad after that, for real). It was a "adios motherfucker" without ice (sin yellow).

I don't know if we were extra friendly or just drunk, because we met a lot of people while we were there.

Here’s “wedding-dress-guy”…

He was getting married so his friends bought him a prom-like wedding dress and made him wear it. Meanwhile, his fiancé was in Vegas.

Here are our Canadian boys…

We played a mean game of volleyball and I sprained my thumb. =(

These two were on their honeymoon...

She had the nicest fake titties I’ve ever seen. My girl passed out drunk in between her boobs and she’s all, “honey, while you're down there can you suck one of my nipples?”

If it's not obvious enough, we did A LOT of drinking, which all started with that blue drank.

Round 1…mai tais...

Round 2... miami vices...

Round 637... some crazy ass shots...

Now shimmy!!!

I think I woke up everyday twitching like a fish. However, they make an awesome Bloody Mary, extra spicy. We hardly spent any time in our room, but we had a nice view.

Good times, but I'm glad I made it back.

The last place I need to party…

2008-06-06T18:34:00.001-07:00

Well part of my graduation gift from my parents is a trip to Mexico. Probably not the best place for me to go, considering my alcoholic tendencies.

However, I made a pact with myself that when I get back it’s time to focus on my next move (in life). I just hope I don’t end up in jail with a burrito in my ass or in a donkey show.

Well, anyway, wish me luck blogworld. I’ll be gone for a week, but hopefully I will make it back in one piece, with pictures and stories to share.

MsP

ps- I (finally) responded to the comments on the last two posts.

Debauchery and Dating 101

2008-06-05T01:02:00.000-07:00

Ok I’m fired from dating. And I’m fired from drinking. I’m fired from drinking and dating at the same time. Seriously. Technically the events that took place last night were not all my fault…

First of all, my date (the cute boy toy I met at the mall the other day) stressed that he wanted me to save my appetite until 7, but was late. Since he was running late, I decided to go over to my girl’s job (a dive bar) and have a drink while I was waiting.

No worries, I’ll preserve my appetite with liquor.

Let me tell you, plopping down at a bar while saying in a bitter tone, “I’m going to cut off my vagina and sell it on eBay,” will get you a free drink. I finished my first drink and was still waiting on my date.

I must have either looked a) miserable or b) easy, because another guy came over and told my girl my next drink was on him. She suggested a drink since I’ve been so into rum lately. I didn’t know at the time, but this bitch gave me a drink with Coconut Malibu, redbull, pineapple juice and a 151 floater. What!? Let me tell you, me and 151 go way back and we don’t get along. 151 makes me feel and act like Johnny Depp in FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS. For real, the room is spinning and I’d like to get off please.

So anyway, I finished my second drink right when my date calls me. I tell him he might as well come pick me up since he is just around the corner. We go to dinner and I have a Mai Tai. Yup. Sure did. By now I’m getting kind of loud and honest. I’m seriously leaning over to this old Indian dude at the bar, next to me, (not my date) and flirting? Yes, fucking flirting. Gheezus.

After dinner I tell my date to take me back to the bar because I’m going to just spend the rest of the night out with some friends. He’s like, “no, I’m going with you.” Um ok, hop on cowboy, because it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

When we get back to the bar, my friend calls me and says he’s at the local college hangout spot. I convince my date (who is sober, btw) to drive me over there. We get there and it’s actually crackin’. There’s a DJ and we head straight for the dance floor. I start shakin’ my ass like I’m auditioning for a music video. Except, I don’t think I would have got the part.

Let me sum up the night:

I yelled at my date at some point to, “get me a fucking drink!” (Ah such a lady). After my date and I finally parted ways, I drunk dialed my ex. I hopped my ex’s fence. (AGAIN) And passed out on his doorstep. I woke up at about 5am freezing, wondering how and where and what the fuck just happened!

Like I said, fired.

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

2008-06-03T01:04:00.000-07:00

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

Being Super Cool

2008-05-31T23:48:00.000-07:00

I like to consider myself as “cool”.

I mean I smoked weed in high school, I have tattoos, and piercings (my nose and my ears). I’ve dated hot guys. I think. Well I’ve had drunk sex with a couple of hot guys a couple of times. Ok one guy once and it was probably because I wore a really, really tight short skirt and he never called me after, but anyway, not my point.

Back to me being cool.

Not only am I cool, I’m a natural people person. I love people, they intrigue me and when I first meet someone I am always curious as to what their story is. Did she drop out of school and take up stripping to support herself and her baby? Did he end up on the corner because he got spit out of a war without health care and no family relations?

That crazy lady at the coffee shop, we go way back. And that old man in the wheel chair, always wearing his colorful socks and fanny pack is the homie, for real. I don’t know why, but people are attracted to me and me to them.

So it’s no surprise that when I got distracted in the mall the other day, this cutie came up to me and said, “You look lost.”

I normally don’t meet guys like this. And I’m not naïve. I really think that he just happened to see me at the mall all discombobulated and wanted to help out. He wasn’t just at the mall girl hunting.

“Oh no,” I said, kind of laughing. I explained to him that I was frustrated because both of the hair salons in the mall were over booked. I didn’t like the way my lady had cut my hair and wanted to get a quick style before work that night. No such luck.

“Your hair looks fine,” he complemented me.

“I don’t like it,” I said, “but thanks.”

After about ten or twenty minutes of small talk and walking together through the mall, I noticed that we had somehow connected. It was weird. What was even weirder is, at that same moment, he turned to me and said, “I feel like I’ve known you for a long time.”

I felt pretty cool. I gave him my number and forgot about my hair…

Do I Look Smarter?

2008-05-29T12:13:00.000-07:00

Well hello there blogworld!

Great news! I, yes I as in ME, Ms Fresh Banana Puddin’ graduated from college! Woo hoo! I know some of ya’ll thought I was dead cold in the gutter somewhere, my flask next to me dripping the remnants of last night, but no. I was finishing up doing something that took me little longer than most.

Oh well at least I got it done. Between large quantities of alcohol, weekend trips to Vegas and hopping over my ex-boyfriend’s fence, it’s a wonder I managed to finish anything at all.

Although, over the last few days I’ve heard enough speeches about “the real world” that I really don’t even want to be a graduate anymore. A “real” job? What is this? Who wants to get up before noon every day? Boo.

Any suggestions as to what my next step should be? Any fresh-out-of-college stories?