Daddy's Little Headache

The Questions

2007-06-07T21:47:00.000-07:00

So I totally stole this from my friend Donovan, who stole this from our other friend, Jules.Just a bunch of random questions. Come to think of it, that nigga Jules proabably stole it from CVibe Magazine, or the Source--whichever one of thiose magazines that had that corny ass cilum. Eh well, who cares. HEre goes:

-Do Black men really think it's okay to have more than one "baby mama"? I know a guys ( who is RIGHT) by the way), who just turned 27 last week, and has 3 children by four different women, and doesn't think that he has too many. Truly a tragedy. But he could still get the panties.

-What's up with homophobia in the Black community? I'm Christian, and a Sunday Schhol teacher, even, but when it REALLY boils down to it, why are you so concerned with who OTHER peopke sleep with? THat actually seems a bit more twisted than sleeping with somone of the same gender, in my opinion. In other words, DO YOU(and whoever else you want to)! If it truly is a sin, the LORD will be the one to determine that, and he will jude and deal with that. He is the only one concerned with whom your'e screwing, casue I sure as hell don't. I got a hard enough time trying to keep my damned self outa hell, knaemean?

-Is BET for real? Are they seriously trying to pass this shucking, jiving, and tomfoolery off on us? Do they think we are simply too stupid to reconize this ignorant programing?

-Why did HErbert( ole boy Iwith the 3 baby mamas who could get it any time he freakin' wanted it) tell me, and I quote, "You don't like BLack people". Is he serious? IS this how people se me? This man thinks I don't love my own people, simpky because I refuese to participate int he big mistrel show that is considered "Young Black America"? He thinks that I don't love my peopke because I desire to be educated? This man actually had the audacity to tell me that my not listening to rap, somehow takes away from my Blackeness. I said to him " I love my people. I just know who we are, an d i f more of us knew who we were, we wouldn't act like this., no, not all of us were kings and queesn, a lot of us were pesants, and hell some even slaves,. But we are strong. WE are inventors, philosphers, thinkers. WE invented civilazation.Not becasue we are supiror, but because we were the only ones on the planet for a time. EVerything comes from, and stems from us. THat is beautiful. We have done so much, that we will never be credited for, partly because of who we are, and a lot of people choose not to acknowledge tat, but mostly in part due to who wev'e allowe ourselves to become. We fell right into the trap that was ever so blatrntly set for us.Everything created for our demise, we have embraced, and made it our own, and somehow made it ;mainstream' and 'cool'. Pimps? Sure, pimps exsisted well before 50cent and Biship Don MAgic Juan, but it is my theory that with the creation of the Blacksplotation films of the 1970's(thagt were created for the WHITE audience--NOT US), that that somehow became cool, and intriguing.. Crack, we fell REALLY hard on that one. Around the time I was born (1984) and the years prior to that, we fell face first into that. Our families? Destroyed. Our finances? Over. Our education? Forget about it. Who needs education, when you can sel crack, and make money? I actually walked into a store the other day to purchase a cell phone, and I asked the guy how well the phone woked, and his reply was 'it's aaight, ecept it ain't got no cell phone, but other tjhan that, it's that CRACK."

Lawd Jesus, take me now. Oh, and YES, La Negra Linda really DID tell that man all that. You ain't finna sit up and tell me I don't love MY people. Nigga out his damn mind.

-What's up with dudes asking us for money? When that become cool? I must have missed the memo that being a bum is the hotness. That "crack:, if you will.

Does anybody still read Jet Magazine?

Does R. Kelly really have a song on that diaster he calls an albums talking about him not being able to answer the phone because hes's proabably busy having sex, or getting high? Isn't this man like 40 years old?

Will Black girls PLEASE stop wearing Apple Bottoms, and Baby Phat? THat shit is not cute.

-Oh and fells, while this may not be a question, but for those of you still rocking G-Unit, you need to go ahead and cut that shit out too.

-Does it really make sense to ride around in your car for 6 months with no insurance, so you can get rims> For your Monte Carlo? While you still livin' with your mama?

-On the contrary, aren't those guys with the Monte Carlos, do rags, and basketball shorts the business? I mean, does it really get any sexier than that?

-Can someone please explain this whole MOB(Money Over Bitches) theory? And why is it always the brokest Negroes with no jobs that have that mess tattooed on them?

-Is anybody Else in love with Pretty Ricky? I have BOTH albums, and continue to bump them like the shit isn't ignorant.

-Why is it that anyone that doesn't like Beyonce is a "hater" or jealous?

-When did it become cool to be a "Dope Boy"?

-What's up with Remy Ma's do?

-Isn't it time for television to come to an end?

-Why am I only creative at work? I'm super goofy and lazy at home.

-Why does every white man in my office hit on me?

-Why do white men everywhere hit on me everywhere?

-Am I wrong for not wanting to get married?

Ranting and Raving

2007-04-12T18:13:00.000-07:00

Only read this post if you have the time. PLEASE.

BLACK MEN

Please click this link and watch this ENTIRE video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XJbDvAMORr8
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What the hell happened to our men?

My ex's (don't ack like y'all 'ont know who I'm talkin' bout, JR's trifflin/sexy ass) MAMA was in this video. This shit is hot out here in L.A.

Now, not everybody out here is a gangster obviously, but there are a LOT of them out here. And even more who WANNA be gangsters. What the hell? And if you're not a gangster, or you don't want to be one, you wanna be one of these.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y7iZvvcNBTE

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When did Black people stop reading? 'Cause I'm pretty sure this nigga ain't picked up nan book.

I'm so fucking sick of my young, Black men acting out like this. Everything is about being a pimp or a gangster. Everything that's attractive, entertaining, or nice is either "gangsta" or "pimp".

I once asked a guy I liked what he did for a living or if he went to school, and his response was, "Why you askin' me all lat? I mean who all up in my business. It ain't like we gone get married or nuthin'!"

What?! Damn nigga, why you just can't say you ain't got no damn job?!

But for those them do "tell" you what they do for a living, here's what they often say (I've comprised a list for you):

1."I'm a money maka."
2."I'm a go getta(damn you Jezzy)."
3. "I make it do what it do."
4."I be on nuh 'grind'. "
5."I'm make music."
6. "I just do me."
How is 'doin' you and gadamn occupation?
and my very favourite, please note, this response can be given to either question 'What do you do for a living, or, 'How was your day?'
7. "Well, I can't really be sayin' all lat on da phone, knaemean?"

Good Jesus.

I'm so mad a Black men right now it's sickening.

WHITE MEN

Why when I was at the copier yesterday, did this white man call me Kim, and when I turned around, he said" Oh, I'm sorry, wrong person".

HOLD UP. PAUSE!

Lemme tell y'all about what "Kim" looks like:

*4"11
*100lbs
*mocha frapaccino colored skin
*short natural hair
*size 14 A bra
*only wears slacks
*wears business suits everyday, she she is in HR

Now, lemme tell y'all what La Negra Linda looks like:
*5"4(5"8 in heels, which I wear EVERYDAY)
*125lbs
*milk chocolate skin
*long basket weave
*wears skirts everyday
*dresses very casually

1.How the fuck could you get us confused? If Kim wore the shoes I wear, she wouldn't be my height.2. Did the muthafucka think she grew 14 inches of hair since the last time he saw her?

Oh did I fail to mention he had just left a meeting with this hoe FIVE FUCKING MINUTES before he saw me?! I saw they asses in the conference room!

I had on a BROWN PLAID SKIRT!

She had on a BLACK SUIT!

WHAT IN THE MUSTY COITUS HELL?

Sorry y'all. I just had to get this shit outta my system. I'll be back tomorrow with a few funny posts. I'm off to pick Carl up from work?

Huh? Who's Carl? Oh. Yeah, remember lil' dick? Yeah, that's him. He thinks I'm his woman now. Meh.

Turns out his penis isn't so little. It's just when you have sex with a mule,(JR) and then go back to humans,, it just seems smaller.

I'll be back tomorrow y'all.

Holler.

Hey Y'all!

2007-04-11T20:20:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody! La Negra Linda is back for that ass. I'm soooo tired. All this posting has made me--what's that you say? I ain't posted in a month? Oh. Aaight. Nevermind then.

My mother has taken it upon her light skinded ass to take a Spanish class. You know what that means for MY pretty dark ass? That I gotta help--no I gotta DO her muthafuckin' homework. So I'm off to do that. I will post something tomorrow, PROMISE. You don't know how much I have to tell y'all. From reconciling with my best friend, to having 3 men propose to me, and tell me to have their damned child, starting a new job that pays more, where all these damn white folks is up my ass like a thong, to having one more (horrible) sexual encounter with the love of my life. Stay tuned bitches. Negra is comin.

Like a porn star.

Ya heard!

Promise I'll post tomorrow.

I have some funny stuff for Julia. I heart Julia. And Jess. And my boyfriend Coco. And Goldilocs. And Truth. And, who else I'm missin? Oh yea, Tanya. She thinks I don't love her. I does.

Okay. Seriously, I'll be back like herpes bitches.

I Know This Is Old, But Why?

2007-03-10T15:55:00.000-08:00

Master P Does First Hip-Hop Gospel Play

Eurweb reports that Master P will be doing his first play.Native New Orleanian, Perry Miller (aka Master P) who made his fortune as a rap artist and Founder and CEO of No Limits Records is now capitalizing on the "Madea" phenomenon with "the first Hip Hop gospel stage play." His first effort, Uncle Willy's Family Tragedy, is a comedy based on the serious repercussions of Hurricane Katrina which debuts in Meridien, MS on September 6. To read the entire article, http://www.eurweb.com/story/eur28348.cfm

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So this has already happened?

I'm done.

Are We That Bad At Funerals?

2007-03-10T14:49:00.000-08:00

First of all, how in the hell do you lease a casket? Do any of you know? I'm at a loss for words. Really.

Anyway, my play mom sent this to me. It was kinda funny in a morbid sort of way. I've never been to a funeral, so I really don't know. Does this really go down?

You know you're at a black funeral when:

1. three generations get out of the family car to beat down someone for cutting into the funeral procession.

2. You have relatives coming in shackled from the State Penitentiary to pay their respects.

3. A fist fight breaks out.

4. When people break down crying, try to climb into the casket, and tell the Lord that they "want to go."

5. The dead person is wearing $3,000 worth of jewelry, and the funeral directors strip the body before closing the casket for the final time.

6. Friends and family wear T-shirts with a photo of the deceased on it...to the funeral!

7. Someone walks around to view the body and yells out, "DAT WUZMY N*G**A!"

8. The brothas stand around drankin after the service and someone "pours a li'l sumptin on the ground for the homey who's no longer with us."

9. Most of the relatives keep fainting before, during, and after the service.

10. Everybody strips the grave of flowers to take home.

11. The dinner after the funeral turns into a family reunion, folks break out cards and dominoes, somebody starts playing some Marvin Gaye, and all the older men start talking about how they used to pimp back in the day.

12. the obituary was made on a home typewriter and is filled with misspelled words...even the name of the deceased!

13. The picture on the obituary is of the deceased from 30 years ago!

14. Everybody is trying to out cry one another as if crying the loudest will qualify for a prize after the funeral.

15. The deceased didn't have 2 nickels to rub together, but leaves the world in a $15,000 silk lined mahogany coffin.

16. The soloist sings about 15 verses of "Precious Lord" or "His eye is on the Sparrow."

17. The funeral is two weeks after the death of the decedent.18. Speakers start cussing during their "remarks."

19. Unknown children shout "Daddy" from all over the church.

20. The preacher doesn't know which wife to give the flag to.

What In The Hot Holy FUCK?!

2007-03-10T12:30:00.000-08:00

How do you fuck this up? Nah, for real? How difficult is it to fry chicken? There are just certain things that are so simple to prepare that if you aren't able to, you ought be shot in the corner of a dark room and peed on. Fried chicken? That's one of them.

Maybe I'm overly sensitive about the subject because I'm well, you know, Black. It's not a stereotype if it's true. We eat fried chicken. And we eat it a lot.

So, last night, I'm starving. I think I've been going through a bit of depression, and have been sleeping a lot, and not eating as much as I normally do. A bit of that is due to depression (no it's NOT J.R. J.R. who?), but the majority of that is because I am so picky that I would rather not eat than eat something I don't like. Yeah, stupid I know. I have gone 2 days without eating because I couldn't find anything that I wanted to eat. I went grocery shopping the other day, so that I could prepare my own meals.. My mother makes super every night for my father, and I never eat. I don't know what the hell that had to do with anything, I'm just typing at this point. I really need to have some sort of an outline when I'm doing this whole blogging thing.

So like I was saying before I started saying the nonsense in the previous paragraph, I was absolutely FAMISHED last night. I was so hungry I could boiled pig endometrium . So I thought.

I was at work last night, and my boss(who is so freaking cool, it's ridiculous) asked what I'd eaten for lunch. I told him I went home, and had a little carne (meat), and that was all. He wanted food, and I wanted some more food, so we decided that we would get something to eat. He suggested "Greasy Chicken". I agreed. He eats this stuff like every day, and I've seen it. It looks DELICIOUS!

Since hindsight is 20/20, looking back, it's my damned fault. You don't trust people who aren't Black about fried chicken. But then again, HOW DO YOU FUCK UP FRIED MUTHAFUCKIN' CHICKEN?!!!!

We had a ton of work last night, so he wasn't able to get the chicken until much later that evening.

Oh how my mouth watered in anticipation of the deep fried yard bird. I could barely focus or concentrate thinking about it.

And when he brought it back? Lawd Jesus! I saw the massive grease stains that penetrated the brown papered bag, and the smell emanating from it, and thought that I had died and gone to Heaven.

Only later to learn that I had been sodomized, brutally murdered, and ended up in Satan's Laundromat.

I asked how much did I owe him, and he said the five most beautiful word in the English language, "Don't worry about it, it's paid for". I'm wondering how this can get any better I'm damned near ready to speak in tongues now. *cue fast organ, tambourine, and bass guitar music*

I sat down at my desk, and asked where the hot sauce was. 'Cause who the hell can eat fried chicken without hot sauce?

He told me he had some. Great. So I'm waiting for this:

But-- got this:Okay, I mean, it ain't Louisiana, but, Tapatio is okay, I guess? Get yourself a cup-o-noodles, put some lime juice and Tapatio in that bitch, and tell me that shit ain't the BUSINESS. Shout out to all my Mexican homies that taught me that shit.

So, I begin to eat my french fries. And they were on point. I was shoving like six or seven in my mouth at once. Nah, wasn't the hunger, I'm just a damn pig. Call me 5-0.

Then I go to have a bite of chicken. I see that there are feathers still attached to that bitch! Uh? Okay, I just pluck them sumbitches out. Ain't no big thing.

But then I have a bite of that "chicken".

I don't know what the ethnicity of the people who prepared this, this, "chicken", but I do know good and damned well that they weren't of the African Diaspora. Well maybe they were since that shit tasted like deep fried fruit bat afterbirth.

That was the most disgusting thing I've ever put into my mouth--ever. And I'm not one of those girls who lies, and says they don't preform fellatio.

I wanted to throw up my ovaries after eating that shit.

The hot sauce did nothing for it. It would be like attempting to eat possum testicles and putting salt on them to enhance the flavor. Shit.Don't.Work.

I can't believe I wrote an entire entry on this shit. The best part of that meal was my strawberry soda.

You know food is bad when it being free still doesn't make it taste good. Good Golly.

For My Friend, Coco Part II (Kinda)

2007-03-09T17:59:00.000-08:00

I have a new fascination for the southern rapper Lil' Keke. Black men are just so damn hot. Their skin....Ummmm, Black man's skin.

Don't you just love Black men's necks? Isn't that the sexiest thing ever?

*crickets*

Uh, yea, anyway, watch the video. Especially you, Coco.

Why is this turning into a damned message board for Coco LaRue? Y'all PLEASE post comments so I can have someone else to talk to. I swear this nigga has put roots on my ass to like him so much.

GOD BLESS YOU, TRUTH

2007-03-08T21:05:00.000-08:00

Hold up, pause. Did this mahfuckka just say "the hoes love me?"

*turns volume all the way down and creams herself*

That's better.

SIDENOTE* How many times, can one say the word "motherfucker" in a single sentence?

The Employment Chronicles

2007-03-05T20:16:00.000-08:00

And you thought you had a bad job. This guy is collecting dead fish out of Kankaria Lake in Ahmedabad, western India. What happened?

Pollution. But not the usual sort. They say "the ritual immersion of Hindu Ganesha elephant deity idols made from plaster of paris and chemical dyes contaminated the water during a recent festival."

Nah, son. I had a job that was even worse than that. I loved it though. Peep this.

Okay, before I became a social worker, I had quite a
few jobs that sucked. A lot of them ( in fact All of
them) revolved around health, and persons with
developmental disabilities.

The job I had prior to this was called "Senior
Employment Specialist". My duties included, teaching
those with developmental disabilities( just follow me
folks), creating and finding suitable employment for
them. So basically I taught a class, helped out people
with mental retardation carry out their everyday
business and try to find them a job.

I had this one client. Let's call him A. A had a
disease called Prader Willi, which basically means he
was overweight, and didn't have the appropriate
mechanism in his brain to tell him he was full, thus
allowing him to eat soooooo much that he stomach could
literally pop. A was about 5'2, and 315lbs, and was
the most lovable person you ever met. He had moderate
mental retardation, and didn't speak much. I always
talked to him in Spanish ( he and his family were from
Argentina), and he would speak back to me in English.
The job was quite rewarding and I loved it, bu I was
NOT making enough to deal with the shit (read further,
and you'll understand why that's a joke) that I had to
deal with. The job became more and more unbearable.

As I said before, A didn't talk much, so he didn't
communicate with me the way he should have, or was
capable of doing. For instance. There was
this one time that we were in my car. He was unable
(and shit, so the fuck was I for that matter ) to take
the bus, so he rode around with me (along with another
client) in my car. Anyway we were in my car, and we
were havin' a good ole' time. We had just had lunch,
and because the summer of '05 was a a HOT one ( it
averaged 114 degrees) we had lunch in my car, with the
air and radio on. He was laughin' and nodding his head
to the music, and before we knew it, it was time for
him to go home. So, he rolls up the window (yes,
ROLLS up the window. Nothing in my car is automatic,
not even the transmission), unlocks the door, and gets
up to get out. As I'm saying by to him, I notice
something in my seat that looks like a cross between
thick chili, and a melted chocolate bar. Wait. Pause.
Uh, HUH?

Me: A, did you have an uh, "accident" honey? Why
didn't you tell me you had to use the bathroom, dear?
I woulda ...
A: *silence*
Me: Ah, shit (pun fully intended).

I don't know why I thought about that story, or decided to post it, but golly, was that shit nasty.

If you're interested (which it don't look like ya'll is cosiderin' ya'll don't say a damn thang in the comments section) I can tell you some more horrid stories. I have some far worse than that.

For My Friend, Coco Part I

2007-03-03T14:19:00.000-08:00

Coco, I know you're a homewrecker. You can't help yourself. And I'm okay with this. I don't judge. It's just that when you try to destroy my family and home, that I begin to have a problem with it.

Below is a list of men you can have your way with.

NOTE: Tru Life is NOT on this list.

Yeah, so the man looks like he has mushroom growin' under his ballsack. So what. Shave him, bathe him, tame him, and he looks like Mad Linx's cousin( Not that that nigga's particulary attractive either).

I don't know who them dudes on the sides are, but go on and break Too Short off a lil' a dat. Ashy beard is what's hot in the streets now.

He tried to holla at me a few months back in West Hollywood. I don't know why either. But look at how nice I am, I'm letting you have that. You can wash and braid his hair. Tell me you don't want to oil dude's scalp.

Tell me the wino look ain't hot. Go ahead. Tell me.

If anyone can take Ice-T from Coco, it's another damned Coco.

You see, Coco, there are PLENTY of OTHER celebs you can go after, please leave my baby's daddy alone. He refers to himself as the "Prettiest Gangsta". I know you did that to him. He wasn't sayin that shit until I saw your name in his chirp. Now, if you would be so kind as to have your way with one of these other *ahem* "gentleman"? It would be greatly appreciated.

Thank You.

Stand Up Jules!

2007-03-03T13:52:00.000-08:00

Guess what I downloaded? Yay! Real Hip Hop!

No More Sad Posts (about Elijah anyway)

2007-03-02T21:06:00.000-08:00

I'm currently mourning my loss(I've never been to a funeral, or personally lost a loved one in my life, let me have my time to grieve about my damned bird) so I've posted some things that make me smirk. Enjoy.

Eye Candy For The Masses (Big Ups To Truth!)

2007-03-02T20:33:00.000-08:00

This is why you cannot give La Negra Linda any props or recognition. I runs with that shit son.

In an effort to get over my dear friend Elijah, I've decided to make both Truth and I happy(you done fucked up now Truth. You co-signing with any damn thing that I say opens up a can of worms that you're sooo not ready for). I've decided to post a random picture of my baby's daddy, free of charge. You can thank me later.

GOT DAMNIT!

2007-03-02T15:13:00.000-08:00

So I'm excited that I've said the hell with J.R. and I go home from work, and I'm in the best mood ever. I go home and I decide to give my baby Elijah some cold water.

Elijah is the happiest bird ever. He sits in my mother's room, and looks at his reflection in the mirror, sings to himself and walks back in fourth.

He sings when he hears the water running.

He sings when he hears plastic bags rumbling.

He sings when he hears Sade on the radio.

He sings when you bring him cold, fresh water. He's always so happy, and rushes right over to it as soon as you bring it.

When I have a bad day, all I need to cheer me up is to take Elijah some water and he makes me smile.

When I went to give him some water last night, I saw him down on the ground. I looked in his dish to see whether or not he had food, because I hate it when he eats off of the ground.

Only tonight, Elijah was on his side.

Elijah was dead.

I ran into the living room hysterical, and weeping to my mother that Elijah was dead. She came in and looked at him and told me it would be alright. I cried all last night.

When my father got home, he said he "felt sorry for his little buddy". That talking to me like a 3 year old last night fucked me up even more, and I cried harder.

I got my little baby when I was 15 or 16, and I miss him already so much.

I'm such a fucking punk.

I had a nightmare last night about a dirty bathroom in Beyonce's house (don't ask) and woke up, relieved that it was only a dream. But then I remembered my bird was dead. I felt bad again.

When I got up this morning I asked Daddy if he had buried Elijah. He said yes. I asked if he was sure he was dead.

How stupid is that?

I have to stop writing now. I'm getting teary eyed.

I'm such a punk.

I Finally Did It, Y'all

2007-03-01T20:58:00.000-08:00

I'm so sure you guys think I'm full of crap now, but I've finally gotten over J.R.

Last night this boy had the audacity to scream at me because I wouldn't pay his phone bill.Remember when I told y'all I had bought him some stuff a while back? Yeah, here's what I got him:

4 Pro Club Shirts
1 Pair of Dickies
1 Pack of Boxers
2 Pairs of Corduroy House Shoes (Red and Black)
2 Pairs of "Chucks" (Converse All Stars)
1 Pair of "Fat Laces" for the All Stars

This was all in one day by the way. I gave him "just because" gifts. I think I spent about $170 on everything.

And I bought this for him, because he wanted a pair of Jordan's that I would not purchase because they were replicas rather than the real thing.

And you know what he asked me? He asked me where's Jordan's were, after I brought him all that shit. Along with his fav beer, Clamato juice, and a lemon.

So you know what I did? I gave him a $100 bill.

And he STILL bitched.

That's why I slept with Carl. To get over him.

The next day he calls me bitching about the shoes again. With the money he bought some other Jordan's and some diapers for his daughter.

And he STILL bitched.

I was REAL done at that point.

So last night I tell him with the $100 he should have paid his phone bill and he says I should have gotten him the shoes, so he could have kept the money.

There's logic for you, huh?

So he's bitching at me (but remember I'm over it, so it doesn't even faze me at this point) and I politely tell him to try calling me back when he was able to talk to me like a human being.

And he still bitched.

I just put the phone down and stop listening(he was talking to me via walkie talkie).

He said he needed the mins on his phone, because he was applying for jobs, and needed the phone. Okay. So I put $20 on his phone. I'm NOT paying additional money for him to talk to his hoes, plot illegal shenanigans, or bitch at me.

He tells me today he's going to buy those shoes with my credit card #. I say no.

He BITCHED.

I hung up.

I canceled my card.

I'm done.

LOVE THIS SONG!

2007-02-26T18:14:00.000-08:00

This is one of the songs on the soundtrack for my passionaite lovemaking. All I need now is the cast.

Daddy's Little Headache

2007-02-25T17:21:00.000-08:00

That's me. My sister and I are such Daddy's Girls, it's ridiculous. I always feel like I disappointed my father. I feel so bad, because for him I want to be great. I want to be something he can be proud of. I think the reason I haven't totally given up on life(education, etc) is because of him. 40% of the reason I had an abortion last year was because I didn't want to hurt him (the other 60% is because that nigga was crazy as a June bed bug).

I know I'm an adult, but I still feel like his 3 year old sometimes. Maybe it's the way he still talks to me like I'm his 3 year old. He calls me on the phone late at night to see where I am, and always. It goes like this:

Him: Where you at Big Girl?

Me:In Compton. *snickering*

Him: In Compton?! Kid, folks who live in Compton don't wanna be in Compton! You need to come home Big Girl, it's getting late(mind you it ain't but 11:00), you're a lady, and you're small, you don't want anything to happen to you out there, alright? So, get ready and bring it on home, okay, Big Girl?

Me: Okay daddy. I'll be home in a lil' bit.

It's the sweetest thing ever.

I live with my mother and father(I'm in school, people, I'm not trifling). My father does things for me. Little, simple things. Like, for instance, he will buy me a big, industrial sized bottle of Listerine, and fill up my regular sized bottle when it's empty. Little stuff like that. Or he will see a teddy bear and get it for me, because he knows I love stuffed animals. I don't know why I'm such a sucker for little things but I am.

My earliest memory of my father and I is when I was 3 years old. It was early morning(possibly around 5 or so). Daddy had a pear in his left hand and a knife in his right. He glanced over his shoulder to see his youngest daughter peeking in the doorway, her right hand in the pocket of her frog night gown. Immediately, I run to him to see what he's doing. He picked me up, put me on his lap, gave me a kiss on my cheek, and split the pear with me. He gave me my piece first, smiled while I ate, and he ate his secondly.

I don't know why I remember that. I swear I smile every time I think about that. I have tears in my eyes right know.

Lately, I've been feeling a lot like Shug Avery. I feel like every man I've ever been with has been a mistake, and while I've learned from all of them, and have hilarious stories(that I LOVE sharing by the way), I see how hut my father is behind my choices. He's not specifically aware of all(thank GOD) the men( there haven't been that many, have there?), but he knows I'm doin' shit that ain't right. When I come home at 1:00am, he knows where my hot ass has been. Sigh. I wish I could still be "Daddy's Little Girl".

I pray for the day that he can look at me, be proud, and say, "Yea! My daughter's a lawyer, bought me this mini mansion, and is NOT A WHORE!".

My mama thinks I'm a pimp (she right.). I think my daddy thinks I'm a failure. =(

Just Because...

2007-02-24T19:20:00.001-08:00

First of all, I'd like to thank Coco LaRue,*uncontrolable applause* because, thank you, I love him to, because without him, none of this would have been possible. This is for you.

Secondly, no, I don't know what this is all about, but any opportunity to look at this mutha rat lova will be JUMPED upon, ya heard?

Not What You Think, Well, It Kinda Is

2007-02-23T14:31:00.000-08:00

You already know the kind of guys that seem to be attracted to me. Old, white collar, White men, and fucking felons. You already know what this story is about. I'm kinda telling the story backwards, but I just don't have the strength or energy to write about the love of my life, J.R. I'll probably write about that madness later tonight. Sigh. Okay, so here's the damn story.

Remember I said I made the decision to to not sleep with my love--er--J.R. anymore? What I should have said was, I will not sleep with him on a regular basis, or sleep with him when he wants to. It will be on my terms. And thus far, it has been. I promise you I keep thinking about Valentine's night. That was awesome. Absolutely beautiful. Sigh.

Okay, so I finally got fed up with the idiot. So I decided(tentatively anyway) that I would not sleep with him EVER again. And what's the best way to get over a man?

Sleep with another one of course!*

That's how I got over Kijoma(Don't ask. Well actually, you don't need to, he'll probably be a post at some point.)! I gave J.R. some!

*Since I lost my virginity at 20 years old, I'm technically not a whore.

So there's this guy named Corey. First of damn all, Corey's real name ain't Corey. He told me that was his damn name, and when we was supposed to hang out one night, I called his ass, and his damn mama answered, tambout some" Ain't no Corey, here, baby, I thanks you gots the wrong number, chile". Then this nigga calls me again, and I ask about his name, he gone sit up and say, "Nah, my name is Carl, some folks call me Cory, doe." Nigga, please give me yo real damn name. DAMN! I mean, J.R.'s real name ain't really J.R., but folks at least call his ass Jr. What's up with niggas not givin they "gummint" name? What type of foolishness is that? My head hurts. I should have known at that point that having sex with him was a bad idea. But I need to get over J.R., and the easiest way (look, I ain't ask fo yo damn advice), is to get some new dick.

So Carl appears to be nice(and we all know what a great character of judgement Negra is, right? I mean, I thought J.R. was a cute little college/church/quiet boy. My first thought when meetin him was "Why does this lil' boy have his nose pierced? Where is his mama?). I mean, he is. I can't say he isn't. Plus he likes me. It is what it is.

So the night before last, I decide to give him some. I go over his house, and he's tellin me how much he likes me. He's being all sweet, but as i said before, Negra's tryin to get down to business. So we begin.

First of all, dude is MANAREXIC. He weighs what I weigh. But whatever. Negra needs to get down to business. But here's the most disappointing part of this story.

His penis.

DAYUM.

I've seen Blunts thicker than that. I'm lookin, like "Bruh, who circumcised you?! You need to go get the rest of that shit back, son!" Oh wait! You're NOT circumcised? You mean you got EXTRA, and STILL you commin' up short?! As a Black woman, I must confess, I was almost OFFENDED that he came at me with such inferior phallus. I wanted some damn Vienna sausages so bad after that shit.

Anywho, Negra needed to get down to business. This had nothing to do with his love stick looking like Pixie Stix.

And whoever said "It ain't the size of your pencil, it's the way you write you name",was,

A MUTHAFUCKIN' LIAR.

That was the worst sex of my life. And I believe it had to do a lot with his ding-a-ling, being of yawn worthy proportions.

But, I wouldn't be Negra if I didn't go back.

That's right bitches. I went and got me some more wack cock.

Remember, this is strictly business. I'm trying to get rid of J.R.( how funny is it that I kept looking at my phone last night to see whether or not he called, in between breaks of getting some. Sigh).

So after we're done, he's holding me. Wow! This is really nice, J.R. never exactly kicked me after sex, but we certainly don't cuddle. I think I could get used to this. I mean I can get on top, and work it, if need be. I can get used to small fry.

I swear, y'all, I held his face in my hand, and thought, this man is beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I mean, although the sex was terrible, I kept looking at how gorgeous and flawless, our perfectly bronzed bodies looked in the moonlight. We looked like one of those "Black Love" paintings you see at soul food restaurants. You know the one where the man with dreads is holding the woman with the Afro puff, and they're sitting in a lily with incense smoke in the background? Yeah. Just like that. It was lovely. Truly.

And I kid you not at the moment that I thought that he says this shit:

"Ay, ma, I was gone ask you somethin'."

Me thinking, aww shit. I done fucked up now: "Yes baby.What you need daddy?"

I was wonderin' if you could let me hold a lil' somethin' so I can pay off this lil' restoration( or whatever the hell that shit is called, I don't know, Negra) I mean, I ain't tryin' to go back to jail, knaemean?"

Me, glad the lights are off to hide the look of horror and amazement on my face, "Uh, how much you need, sweetness?"

Him: "I mean, what can you let me hold?"

Is this nigga SERIOUS?!

Me: "All I got is 50 (don't have a stroke I ain't give him shit, this is just lip service) baby, and I don't get paid until tomorrow."

Him: Wow, That ain't shit. I mean, that a get me my lil' sim card for my phone or whatever. That's cool I guess."

Yes, yes he was serious. Hot damn.

Yeah, Negra packed it up, and called it a damn night.

GAHDAMN.

What else can be said? Gahdamn. I know I buy J.R. stuff, but not only was he my boyfriend at one time, HE GOT A BIG ONE!

With his disappointment--er-- dick, he need be giving ME money!

UUUGGHHHH!!

Tru Life, Please Have A Seat Some Damn Where

2007-02-22T19:13:00.000-08:00

To answer your question, no I don't have anything better to do that to sit around and google pictures of this damn man. I believe I explained in my previous post that this is my baby's daddy. Thank you.

Listen, I love an ignan't muhfucka, believe me I do,(see J.R.), but Tru Life needs to sit the fuck down.

Look, dude is fine. That's why I excused his ignan't ass name: The Righteous Uniting Everybody Living In a Fantasy Environment. I'll allow it. He's right. Nigga has GOT to be left handed, 'cause he cain't get no righter, knaemean? Yeah, bitches, Negra is cleva!

So just as I was about to loose the ounce of dignity that I have left (if you thought sleeping with J.R. was bad, wait till I tell you what I bought him, yeah, I know) and run out and terminate my Nextel service to have a pre-paid Boost account, because my babby's daddy is now one of the spokesmen, I read this here shit.

Apparently, they asked him a series of questions, that we may get to know the real "Lizzy the Kid" *rolls eyes* Shut up! I said I was letting the dumb ass names go!

Read this.

What’s the last record you listened to?

Mine. “This is the Life”--we working it at radio, just had it mastered.

How ignorant is that? You're listening to your own shit? Your'e kidding right? Remember that's what Mariah Carey did about 10 years ago during that interview with Tabitha Soren and her ass got clowned? And homegirl was a damn veteran at that point! You ain't made it yet, nigga! Signin' with Jay-Z ain't shit! Remember Amil's ass?! Please find the nearest seat, and sit in that bitch.

What’s the last thing that you autographed?

A T-shirt for 2 little kids.

Tru Life, true story. You know ain't nobody studyin' yo ass but me. You ain't signed a damn thang for nobody. Please stop with the lies. It's too close to Sunday, for that nonsense.

What’s the last car that you drove?

A Ferrari.

Niggas be lyin'. That is all.

Who’s the last celebrity that you hung out with?

That’s hard, The camp- Bleek, Hov, Jermaine Dupri, Snoop, I mean I don’t even trip off that! It’s all in a days work.

1)Wait, what? When the hell did Memphis muthafukkin Bleek become a damn CELEBRITY! Look, I like Memphis Bleek. Believe me I do. But as a rule of thumb, if La Negra Linda likes an artist, they're probably wack. Case in point, I thought D4L were fucking geniuses. Shut up. Y'all just mad because y'all ain't thank a Laffy Taffy. Shit is genius. Period.

2) Uh, whatchu MEAN it's all in a days work?! Nigga WHAT work? You don't be doin' shit, except taking pictures at parties, to put on your damn MySpace page! You damn right you dont "trip" off of that! You got no right to! You've been making this damn album since Jesus was in Elementary school! Stop this foolishness, Tru Life, just stop it.

Who’s the last person that borrowed something from you and didn’t give it back?

I don’t wanna put anyone on blast, but everyone got my shit, from letting the homie hold a chain to my recording equipment.

What the hell do you have to be loaning out? I just wanna know? How much money did you make off them two damn mix tapes? What kinda chain, Tru Life? A necklace? The chain from off of a bike? Why you lettin' muhfuckas "hold" your damn jewelry any damn way? That's sounds, muy suspecto to me dawg.

And as for equipment, your ass needs to get that shit back, so you can get back to makin' that damn album!

And furtherfuckingmore, the equipment probably didn't belong to your ass, but to Def Jam. How you loanin' otha muhfuckas shit out? You do right to not "put nobody on blast" 'cause you know you wrong for that!

What’s the last event you attended?

The Nets playoffs game w/ Jay Z & Ty Ty.

Tru Life, stop. Just stop.

What’s the last thing you did for someone else?

I’m always doing stuff for other people, loaning money to the homies, bought a car for F.White who always helps out and holds me down.

Again, stop. You really ain't "doin'" somethin' for somebody if you "loaning" they ass the money. If that's the case, I need to be sending MasterCard, Visa, and American Express a "Thank You" card with my next payment.

Who’s the last person to ride shotgun in your car?

Me, because I don’t have a license.

Hol'up! Hol' up! Are you fucking KIDDING ME? You drove a fuckin' Ferrari, but you ain't got no licence? Really. Somebody let you buy/rent/drive their fucking Ferrari, with no licence? In honor of the man you're currently dick riding: "We don't belive you, you need more people". And sweet Jesus, please tell me you're not stupid enough to be saying publicly that you don't have a license, when your Black ass be driving in every piece of YouTube footage my ass has seen of you.

Who’s the last person you recorded with?

Memphis Bleek and Akon.

Good GOD, I almost don't want to buy his CD now. Why would you even admit to that shit. Why not have Jay-Z's camel ass keep coming out of your mouth.

Who’s the next person you wanna record with?

Sean Paul.

Wow. That's real hard core. Sean Paul has recorded with Beyonce AND Rianna (almost redundant isn't it?). Any harder, and he'd be a 15 year old boy watching girls play double dutch.

Text or Chirp?

Text.

Wow. That's mad Homo, son. For him to be talking about Jim "Freed Slave" Jones, in that "those Jeans" song, he seems to be partaking in some pretty homosexual activities. I don't know one straight man who knows how to text. If his is straight and texting, he's got a LOT of hoes. I suppose he cold have a lot of hoes, but shit is still mad fucking suspect.

And if that weren't bad enough, can someone please tell his dumb ass that when a company that's famous for a particular feature (Chirp) is paying your black ass to be their fucking spokesman, you need to say that that's your favorite thing to do? Good Gawd.

Give or Get?

Get.

Oh, yes, daddy. Even through all your damn ignorance, your fine ass could get it. Twice.

Natural or Enhanced?

Natural.

I ain't mad at this one. He's Black, of course he's packin' like he works for UPS. I'm natural too. I just have relaxed hair, a basket weave, and fake eye lashes.

Public or Private?

Private, very private.

Hmmm, I guess I'm going to have to secretly record he and I doing the grown up. It won't be all that private when I upload that shit on You Tube though.

Ghetto or Fabulous?

Ghetto.

Yes, yes, you are. And no, the shit ain't cute. You do, however, get a free pass, because you're finner than frog's hair.

Favorite Charities

Glen Toby’s Book Bank Foundation Snoop Dogg’s Youth Football League.

Book Bank? Nigga, you don't look like you read shit! How you gone endorse some shit that yo ass ain't participating in? For the love of GOD( El Shadi), your son (Robert Rosado Jr), and your baby's mama( La Negra Linda), shut the fuck up, and sit down. Thank you, and good night.

My Baby's Daddy

2007-02-19T20:06:00.000-08:00

Okay, forreal, forreal, this nigga needs to stop playing, and go on and ask me to marry him. I will say yes.

Forreal, forreal.

I'm Stealing from Coco!

2007-02-19T19:32:00.000-08:00

You're Pizzazz! You always want to be the center of attention, and things must go your way or else! You've got a good sense of humor but you sometimes have a temper. Seems like you may be a little spoiled huh? Well don't worry, your friends still accept you for who you are.

We are the Misfits, or songs are better, we are the misfits, we're gonna getcha! Yeah! Tee Hee!

La Negra Linda's "Men"

2007-02-19T14:16:00.000-08:00

This post was inspired by Julia. She said in the comments section of the last post, that she thought she had some some stories regarding men. Uh, baby, homeboy with no foot, that outdoes me--oh wait, ole boy Marcus aint have but one hand. Okay yeah, scratch that.

Anyway, I've had some doozies in my day. I don't know why I'm even shocked at the shit these niggas say to me any damn more.

Yesterday, I met a guy. Fine? My sweet Jesus, YES!

He said; "Eh, ma, you drive right? (Why do niggas ask this shit? I'm 22 years old. Of course I drive. I live in L.A., of COUSRE I have a car!)

Me: Yeah, I drive, my car's over there.

Him: Oh, okay mami, I see you, doin' real big withcho car and what not. That's right. Go to school, with a job, and a car, aaiight!

Me: Looking puzzled, "Uh, yeah, okay, so you drive, I mean I don't live out here, and I don't come out here real often, so..."

Him: Yeah, mami, I drive. You fine den a muhfukka too, I mos def gotta come out here an' see you lil' lady. I mean I got a suspended licence, and a warrant, but you worf it, knaemean?

Me Laughing, "Are you serious!" I Should have known he wasn't joking. That truly was my damn bad
.
Him: Yeah, but if I'm in jail, I can't make no money, knaemean, and I'm out here on my grind, you feel me? Once I get my lil' change together or whatever, I'll go and turn myself in and do this lil' bullshit as week or whatever, then it's all good, knaemean?

Me, trying to redeem myself, not knowing what the hell to say, so I do my normal response to Black men when I don't know what the hell they're talking about: "Oh, okay then ,that's what's up!
"
Him: Well I ain't tryin' to take up yo time, I see you in a lil' rush or whateva, so just hit me up when you get a chance, ma."

Me, puzzled again, with another generic response to the tomfoolery that is this "uneducated, urban Black male": " Fa sho".

Here goes a list of the "boyfriends" I 've had in my day. They all had something wrong with they ass. Satrting with:

Ray. This mofo, was crazy. I was 17, in my first year of college and was a virgin. I then, like now, had NO idea just how weird, and crazy old dudes ( and hell young ones too) were. So yeah, Ray. He wanted to be an astronout, bit got testucular cancer ( I used to date men who were waaay too damn old for me), so he couldn't pass the physical exam, and had to settle to be this.

Yeah. A rocket scientist. Boo fuckin' hoo dude. You work at JPL, and make 350,000 a year.

Yeah, homie. Get over it.

So ole boy wanted me to be his girlfriend, but said no. I was 17, and he was like 44! He was soo possive! He was building this plane at an airport out in Pasadena and wanted me to go with him one day. I was scared of him, so I went. There's 17 year old girl logic for you. Your'e scared of a dude who doesn't know where you live, over the phone, so you GO with him, so he doesn't get mad. Nice. Anyway, I went with him, and my mom called me on my cell phone, and said she wanted me to come home, and he got MAD! I mean he started throwin' shit talkin bout, "Your'e damned near grown, you can't stay out?!" Yeah, he took me home and apologized, but damn. Needless to sy, we stopped fuckin' with Ray. Only to get another "winner" though.

Michael. I met this dude when I was 19, and he was very charming ( to a 19 year old vigin. If I met this muhfukka now, I'd slap his bitch ass into the apocolopse). He always talked bad about his ex-wife (again another red flag that the 19 year old Negra didn't know about), and was an alcholic. I didn't know it. I had NEVER in my life been around alchol(my parents don't drink), so I didn't know the smell. This is a true story. I kid you not, I wondered why his "red punch" smelled "funny".

Anyway, he drank so much, that he ended up loosing his job, and had to move in with his mama.

Yeah. That shit deserved it's on paragraph. Homeboy was 38. Oh, and did I mention he was white? Yeah, and he's from Paris, Tennesee. Tell me this story don't get better and better by the damn second.

So he moves in with his mama ( who I didn't know at the time was a FUCKING RACIST), and hasn't told her that I'm black. Wait, what? Uh, okay. So I telll him, he can't have my virginity untill he let's his old scallywag mammy, that I'se NEGRA!

So you know what he did?

Yep, you guessed it! He cheated on me! Yay!

Anyway, in a druken stuper, he confessed his love to 19 year old Negra, and says he will tel his mama. And he did. She called me a nigger (never to my face, but I would hear her in the background while we were on the phone. Oh as A tasty tid bit, her live in boyfriend is a Mexican dude named Charles). Bitch shoulda been callin her damn son a lush and pedafile but whatever.

So she decides she wanted a Bed and Breakfast out in Mississippi, and sells her house, and moves out there, and gives Michael's broke and unemployed ass ( I was in my 3rd year of college, and had a full time job, plus volunteered at a home for persons with cerebal palsy. Yes, I AM indeed that bitch), the first and last, on his old apartment and he moves in. So we go on about our business, and I spend the night frequently ( when I think of the agony I must have inflicted upon my poor father, I cringe. I'm sooo sorry, daddy), and everything is honkey dory (pun fully inteded).

One day, after work, I see that he' s called me 9 times in a row. He was sick. I took him to a freee clinic, since he didn't have insurance ( yeah, but my nigger ass did, ha!), and we find out he has pancrantitis. Anyway, I called his mother and told her that he wasn't doing good.

To make a long story even longer, dude was in a coma for a month. His mama cussed me out in the hospital ( the staff called the police on her several times, without me even having to request them to do so), and I must say, the 19 year old Negra handled herself, quite well. I'm not even sure the 22 year old Negra could handle that well.

Michael fully recovered, and while he was recooperating, I literally wshed his ass and spoon fed him.

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and while I was feeding his invillant ass, I said " I want to go to Christmas Eve dinner (mind you at this point he and I had been dating for a year)". He looked at me puzzled, adn replyed, " No. " I asked why not, and he replied, " I'm not going to make my family feel uncomfortable for you."

I took my clothes out his house without further word spoken and left. I told him I needed the money that was owed me, and he wrote me a check9 That's one thing crackas is good for. It didn't bounce). I was heartbroken. So much so, that I left the state. I went to U Maryland, and haven't spoken to him since. I' glad I didn't give him my virginity. I'm glad I gave it to a man far more deserving. Ha! The sarcasam in that statement makes me cream my panties. Here's the guy I gave my virginity to. Paul.

Yep. A muthafuckin basehead. But I didn't know dude was a basehead! True story y'all! He ain't look like one!

I met him at the bus station in Washington D.C. I got on one of those damn F busses (never again, never the fuck again). So he's the most georgous, white man you've ever seen in your life. Plus I seem to have a lil' fetish with men who aon't Black, but think they are (see J.R.).

I'll spare you the details on how I lost my virginity, just know he got it, because dude was sweeter than pet milk when I met him, and I though he was a genuienly nice guy.

So one day we're hangin' out at his house and he's acting really strangely. I was at his house for nearly 3 hours, and he ignored me the entire time. I mean, literally ignored me.

I go to ask him what's goin' on, and I see this chick in the other room with the "old Eve" hairstyle, and I deciede it's time to go. I'm on the phone with my sister while all of this is going on, because I needed something to do, considering, he wasn't talking to me, so we're laughing at the whole situation. I go back in the room to get my purse, and Guess. The. Fuck.What.

Paul comes into the room smoking rocks on a Sierra Mist can.

Sigh, unfortunaltey, that was not my last encouner with Paul. The last encounter with Paul came when he stole my necklace. That's a whole 'nother story that I won't even get into right now.

So, after, my HORRIBLE expierence on the East Coast( screw you east coasters, D.C. is East Coast to my Cali behind), and believe me, it wasn't jus the crackhead expierence that made the expierence ( how mant times can I say that damn word? Can you say THESAURAUS?!) an awful one, I went back home. Smog never smelled to damned good. Next dude, was named Aaron.

Ah, Arron. I won't make fun of him too bad, in fact, I won't make fun of him at all, beacause as I've said on numerous occasions, I ain't goin to hell behind makin fun of handicapped folks. Aaron is schizophrenic. He streesed me the hell out. As I was dating him, my schzropherenic grandmother was living with me (she moved out here after the hurricane in New Orleans, and was staying with me. I didn't know she ws schizophrenic. My father didn't give me any kind of "Hey, my mama is crazy as a June bed bug" disclaimer either.), and I got PREGNANT by this nigga. Bad time in my life. I thought MY ass was crazy. I was so glad to get rid of his ass, and when my granmama( I love the hell outta her crazy ass too, don't get me wrong), you have no idea.

And then there's the love of my life. J. Muthafuckin'R. Oh how I love that man.

That former pimp, gang bangin' ass, man. I'm not fuckin' with him anymore, but gahdamnit is it hard. It's never been so hard to shake a man! I don't need to tell any stories about him, cause he's the current looser I'm "invoved" with. He just chirped me now ( I have Nextel, not Boost, bitches), and called me baby, and I damned near orgasamed. Sigh. I hate havin' to act like i don't want nothin' to do with his low life ass. He knows I'm frontin.

This was a half assed post. I didn't even do a spell check on it. I got drained after talking about Michael. Sue me.

But now that you've been introduced to them, expect many more stories about them. I have PLENTY. Except about Michael. I proabably will never post about him again. But the crackhead? Wait till I tell y'all bout how he stole my necklace!

You had to have seen this one coming

2007-02-15T18:14:00.000-08:00

Dag nabbit. I slept with J.R. But wait. It's not how you think. Seriously. I needed to have sex. I mean, you can't have sex regularly, and suddenly stop! I hadn't done it in SEVEN WEEKS!

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but as I stated before, he and I were in a "relationship", and were having sex pretty often. So I needed it. Also, I'm totally giving you guys the wrong impression of he and I'se(sp?) encounter last night.

That's more like it.

Yes, we did it on a couch. He does not have a bed in his room. His room is ghetto fab. The couch in his room (and in his living room) is a stolen couch from some hotel party thrown a few years back. How he and his friends managed to steal four fucking couches, is beyond me. But they did it. And oh, how my lower back pains me because of the compromising positions he had me in on that bad boy. Sheesh!

Anyway, GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY WAS THAT SOME GOOD LOVIN'! Lemme tell ya somethin. Puerto Rican men got it goin' on! Aye, chico! Me gusta mucho papi, mas, mas, mas!

I'm glad, I did it. I had sex with him, it was AMAZING, and now I can as Black Girl( shout out to Tanya, I don't know if you want folks knowin' your real name, but big ups to you, just 'cause, I dunno I like you) say, I reconciled with that shit(that shit being his winky woo) and now am ready to move the fuck on. Yeah right Negra, if you were ready to move on, you wouldn't have even accepted his phone calls, let alone let him stick his baby dispenser in you. That may be true. I knew last night when I went to get some, that that's all I wanted. I know he's slept with other girls since the last time he and I had been together, and I was okay with that. He ain't my man, and I don't want him to be. I needed a booty call, and he's the only one I know right now who would give me some. I'm sure there are countless other men of there who would tap, but I need to know them, establish a relationship with them, and then sleep with them. I don't have anyone right now that meets those requirements. I have one, but he lives about 2 hours away from me. Actually, after last night, I think the next time I put out, it will be to him, and not to J.R.

And here is a list of a few reasons that La Negra Linda has to let go entirely.

1) Last night he snorted Meth.

What more needs to be said about this? Yeah, exactly.

2) He told me (before I went to his house) that he was driving and hit a family of cats( a mother and two babies)

That's how you know my ass was in heat, because I am the biggest cat lover ever. Which is why I need to be getting as much ass as possible, because it's a known fact that cat lovers die alone, in their house with their 97 cats. He told me he saw limbs flying, and that it didn't bother him. In fact, he did this intentionally.

3) He got his father jumped.

So he's at the gas station, and some crips come up to him, and bang (ask him what gang he's from) on him while his father, 7 month old daughter, and daughter's mother are in the car. He tells them what gang he's from and they jump him. His father tries to help him, and he gets jumped right along with J.R. Nice.

4) Finally, he and his friend robbed a check cashing place earlier that day.

Apparently, he and one of his friends decided they need money. Rather than go to work like you and I would do ( we're suckers working for the man, don'tchaknow), he goes and gets "free money".

Now here's the "logic" (and I don't think the quotation marks give a fair picture of how loosely I use the word) behind his robbing the check cashing place.

He's out on bail( I know, I know), so if he got caught mid theft, he was going to jail. But, if he didn't have the money to pay his ail this month (which he said he had a feeling he wouldn't) he was going to jail anyway and he may as well try. That's just great. Just great.

He thought that I didn't believe him last night. I did. If there's one good thing that can be said about J.R., it's that the boy doesn't lie. Do any way, he showed me the $1000.00 he "came up on". He threw the 50's, and 20's at me and said "I don't be lyin' to you baby. I keeps it real. I'm a real nigga." The irony is that he's Puerto Rican. And no not a BLACK Puerto Rican. Just a regular ole' Puerto Damn Rican.

UPDATE: His little accomplice (well actually the main guy, although J.R. did hold the clerk in a head lock with a gun pointed at his head) got arrested today. Apparently, he tried to jack an old lady for her "chirp" phone. Yeah, I think I'ma leave that dick alone. No really, I am. He just reminded me last night just how much I need to leave that dick alone.

Stay tuned for the next "I done stopped fuckin with this nigga, for real this time!" post. Holler.

One Night Stand

2007-02-11T19:52:00.000-08:00

You know, we've all had our share of "One night stands". And if you haven't, I'd appreciate your keeping that to yourself, so that I don't feel like a whore. Thanks.

I was talking to a girl I know, and she was telling me about a one night stand she had.

We were 19, and I remember her talking about this guy named Reggie, who played football. She wanted me to go to one of his games. Said he had a friend for me, or some shit. Whatever. I was a virgin, and further more, that nigga played for my rival school. Hell to the naw. It was so funny because we were talking about this and I realized who she'd slept with.

YES, BITCHES! MY FRIEND BONED REGGIE BUSH! I was so pissed. I should have gone to that damn game, LOL. I ain't trippin'. I had a celebrity one night stand too.

Shut up. I didn't even know who the hell he was. I don't listen to mainstream hip hop, let alone underground.

Apparently, his name is "Planet Asia". Whatever. His real name is Hassan, and the nigga's AN ASSHOLE, and the reason it was a one night stand is because I never wanted to see his ass ever again!

Okay, enough of this. I'm sooo not trying to be Supahead. Just reminiscent on the sex life I once had...

Dear "Junior"

2007-02-11T19:10:00.000-08:00

Dear J.R.

This is so hard for me to say, to write. You will never read this, nor will I ever tell you (because I will just stop talking you because a) I'm a pussy, and b) you won't understand. Having these talks with you leave you and I both tired.

I love you, but it's over. I can't tell you how much you hurt me.

It's not all your fault, sweetie. I come from a long life of pain. You simply were the straw that broke the camels back.

You know that "permanent smile" you said I always have on my face? Somewhere in my youth, I learned that laughing remedy's misery, smiles treat grief, and trying to love the life you've been given completely heals, and cures torment of any kind.

I love you, but I simply cannot allow you to treat me less than what I'm worth any longer.. Have you ever seen someone with a BMW and it was filthy? That's how I feel. I feel like a dirty 760I.

I love you, but I cannot hurt any longer. It's so bad that I don't laugh as much as I used to. I can't tell a decent joke anymore. My witty comeback's, have been, well, less than witty--when I even make them. I'm loosing who I am as a person, as a result of loving you.

This is certainly not your fault, you never insisted that I fall in love with you, I made the decision to do so. And just like I chose to love you, I'm making the decision to end our relationship ('case I just can't shake the loving you thing just yet. Give me some time, daddy. You'll be outta sight and outta mind in no time).

I love you. But I just found out that I love myself even more. I don't want to hear that selfish shit, either. You love yourself ( and Forty's, and your homeboys, and drugs, etc) more than you love me. The saying goes " A fair exchange ain't no robbery" (ghetto proverbs are the best, yo, I tell ya).

So, while I love you like a transvestite hooker loves Vaseline,I gotta take care of me, and part of taking care of me means, getting rid of you. That sounds awful. I'm not trying to be mean-- wait. You called me a bitch once.

Yea nigga, I'm thu.

One.

I'se Tired

2007-02-11T18:41:00.000-08:00

Like kitty, I'm tired. I never thought I would say this, but I'm tired of "Ain't Shit Niggas".

No, this isn't a "I hate men" post. Good Jesus, nothing could be further from the truth. I just need to find someone who appreciates me, and what I do for him. From picking up the tab at dinner, because I know the ends are a bit short, to saying "Bless You" when he sneezes. I have yet to find that. Hell, I haven't even found that in a woman. Damn shame.

Then again, I'm only 22, so I don't need no damn man. I need to be focused on my studies, and gettin more ass than a donkey farm, that way it'll be out of my system by the tome I get married (to TRU Life).

This is a rant post. Probably not interesting to you, but I needed to write this,and I'm quite proud of myself. I'm proud that I'm putting my feelings first. I'm proud that I've made the decision to not get walked over again.

I'm not saying I'm not open to the possibility of love, because I've been burned, Lawd knows I ain't tryin' to be some single 44 year old tombout, "Niggas ain't shit. They'se all dawgs. I don't need nan one a y'all. I ain't finna flat back for NAN one a y'all, 'cause y'all ain't shit!". I know women like this. Not pretty. I'm just saying that the next time I get into a relationship on any level-- be it casual or monogamous, if I'm not getting out of it what I put into it, it's over.

A few days ago, I made the decision not to sleep with J.R.(the gangster) anymore. At first it was because I haven't seen him in over a month, and who knows where he or that phallus has been. But then I thought about something he always tells me / He always says, " You're so different from any girl I know. You ain't hood. You're smart. You really have your shit together. Your not like these hoodrats around here. I like that about you, ma."

If I sleep with him after the ways he's treated me, I will compromise my self respect, and make him a liar.

I'm Beating Jess' Ass...

2007-02-05T20:22:00.000-08:00

And when I'm done, your ass will be hotter than a DVD in a crack house. Keep playing with me, bitch.

Hey y'all! It's Black History Month! Y'all know what that means? It's the only time of year that you can get a date, Negra? Ha. Funny. You guys are assholes.

No! It means that since we have a whole month dedicated to race, (a whooping 28 days, yeah!), I'm going to overlook all the ignorance that we sometimes (all to damn often) participate in! Shucking? Ignored. Jiving? Disregarded. Cooning?Completely tuned out!

So keeping all that in mind, let us now have a look at some people who are not of Negroid decent acting foolishly.

I present to you:

Couples Who Need Their Ass Beat

Who told them this was a good idea? That photographer needs to be shot.

Clearly, once wasn't enough for these folks. What's with the damn moose though? Geez.

If I go to Hell, it ain't gone be for making fun of blind folks. Moving right along...

She looks like she needs a blood transfusion. I really hope she's not a Jehovah's witness and gets the help she needs.

You know, if you and all of your bridesmaids are battling SARS, you might want to be at the nearest clinic, rather than getting married. Just my opinion.

Isn't Wal-Mart great? I mean, you get to purchase awesome multi- color pastel polyester stripped shirts, and then take a picture with your sweetie afterwards!

Aww, a pimp and his bottom bitch make it official. Wait is he Black? Gahdamn it motherfucking shit, how did he get on this post. Shit.

GAHDAMN.

Her parents just sold her for an ox, and two pounds of figs.

I'm done. Not that anything I said prior to this photo was actually funny I can't even be funny about this. The shit is just wrong. Wow. Insert your own joke here.

Stay tunned for more half assed (and super unfunny) posts to come! Ciao!

About Me

2007-02-03T11:51:00.000-08:00

Since I don't have any friends in Cyberspace(or in real life, let's just go on and be real here), I haven't been "tagged" to give 4 or 5 random, unusual, quirky, or just flat out weird things about me. So, since I have the best job in the world, and have the pleasure to be working on a Saturday in beautiful Los Angles, when it's 71 degrees outside, I'll go ahead and post this to occupy my mind, and forget about what I could be doing, if I weren't here. Plus, Jess is calling me manes, and I don't want to have to kick her ass. So now I present:

Four Things You Never Wanted to Know About Me:

1) I am deathly afraid of flags.

When I was in third grade, the coolest thing in the world was to be "Flag Monitor". The flag monitor was the person who held the flag during the pledge of allegiance. For MONTHS, I wanted this job. I never got it.But, after weeks, and weeks of daily disappointments, frustrations, and let downs, I got the opportunity to hold the flag. As I walked up to the front of the class, and my heart raced with a trmrndous grin on my face, and sheer frolic in my eyes. I held the flag, and guess what? My ass was petrified. Something about the deep, rich, colors of that sumabitch had my little 8 year old behind terror-stricken. And to this very day, I literally shudder when I see flags. No joke. It actually took a lot of courage to write about this, not because I'm ashamed or think it's silly or anything, but because I had to Google this damn picture. Yes, I did shudder.

2) My dream is to be a housewife.

People are always giving me the side eye when I say this. They always ask "Why are you going to law school, and spending ridiculous amounts of money to be somebody's woman servant?" These people are obviously densely ignorant about Negra. First of damn all, there is nothing I'd enjoy more than to be some beautiful Black man's servant. Are you kidding me? Pull my hair, throw me up against a wall, and boss my ass around, daddy. Please. And do it again whileyou're at it. Secondly, uh, y'all know the kind of men I like? Do you really think I can sit around and wait on one of them niggas to take care of me financially? Come the hell on. I got to go to school to be able to take care of my damn self, because I doubt I'll be able to find a man like that. I mean really. What's the likely hood of me finding some guy named Demontray whose got long corn rows, wears corduroy house shoes, has 20+ tattoos, drives a Impala, smokes Black n' Milds, drinks Colt 45, listen to rap music, and has a damn job?! With BENEFITS? Come the hell on folks. I'm having a hard enough time tryin' to find men who look like me, that want to date women that look like me. Bottom line, I need to go to school, so that I can take care of myself. I can't sit around and wait on somebody to do something for me that I can do for myself. And I will finish law school, become a lawyer, do that for about 5-6 years get married (if not to Tru Life, then to a nigga who looks like his fine ass) and continue to practice law during my marriage. Until, of course, I get pregnant, then I'll become a housewife, and take care of my children. And because life always goes according to the way you planned it, this most certainly happen. And I'll stay married and die at age 162 in my sleep with my husband by my side. And I'll go to Heaven. Shut up. I'm still young enough to be delusional.

3) I don't eat seafood.

I'm quite possibly the only person born In New Orleans that doesn't eat seafood. That shit is just plain nasty. Fish? Gross. Shrimp? Yuck. Lobster? Hell naw. They look like big ass roaches! I don't know about y'all, but I've done had roaches in my house before, and them mofos don't look appetizing in the least bit. Seafood in general just smells bad. It smells like the ocean's upchuck, or poorly maintained female parts. Just ain't right. Just ain't.

4) I don't own a pair of tennis shoes.

I have over 300 pairs of shoes, and of that 300 about 250 of them are stilettos, and pumps. 45 are flip flops (I live in L.A. and we rock them bitches year round, son), and the other 5 are flats, or ballet shoes. I shop at all the hooker/stripper boutiques in Hollywood. The shoes are so hot and surprisingly comfortable. Well, maybe not so surprising, I mean, them hoes do be on they feet all night. Eh. Anyway, fukka gym shoe.

So there you have it. Random stuff about a stranger you don't care about! I mean I could have put in there that I curse too much (I'm sure y'all muhfuckas ain't know that shit), that I was molested from ages 2 or 3 to 10 years old, by a female member of my family, had an abortion in the last 12 months, or that I have a Schizophrenic grandmother, but it's my blog, I write what I wanna. Plus, none of that stuff is funny. I like to be funny. True, everything I just wrote about wasn't nearly as funny as it was ignorant, but eh. Screw it. Tell ya what. Go have yourself a blunt and read it again. Then, that shit will be mad funny, son.

Smile, No Matter What

2007-01-28T19:01:00.000-08:00

"He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has." ~ Epictetus ~

My self esteem is low.I'm not ugly, I know I'm not. I've been told by many, that I'm beautiful, and really could have a date every night of the week should I choose to. In fact, I've been guilty on many occasions of having so many dates in one night/week, that I won't go anywhere with any of them, because I'm so overwhelmed. And after all that, you know what happens? They still call my ass after they've been stood up, because I'm that chick lol.

But, my self esteem is mad low, son. That's the main reason I don't go on dates. It's not that I'm ugly, I'm not. I've got an incredible body. Small waist, no hips, bubble butt, I'm a 34D; for lack of a better term La Negra Linda is a Brick House. I'm mighty mighty. lol

I was called ugly throughout school. From Elementary to High. I hated school. In fact, they are the reason I kept my grades up, because I was going to be better than all of them. And if success is measured by additional schooling, not having children, and having a decent job (it's not, so don't get all uppity), then I've surpassed all those malicious children. It's so funny too, because all those guys who dissed me back in the day, are steady tryin' to holla now! HA! I see you son! And I hear you hummin, but I ain't comin'! Not literately or figuratively speaking!

Again, my self esteem is low. My biggest (and probably only) insecurity? My teeth. I think they are HORRIBLE. In my opinion, my parents failed me miserably when they did not get me braces. I am sooo insecure about these bad boys, it's ridiculous. I know I'm a pretty girl, but still, I've never been able to understand just why any man would wanna talk to a girl with a pulchritudinous (for all y'all that was too lazy to look it up, it means attractive) face, and the mouth of a wilder beast (all y'all that laughed, just know you're going to hell on full scholarship).

I went on a date last night! Are y'all proud of me? I went on a date, and it wasn't with Thugie-Poo, the guy I talked about in my last post! I went on a date with a sweet, sweet guy. Very nice. I don't even know what else to say about him. Just a tremendous, wonderful sweet guy. Oh, and did I mention, he's HOT?! Yes, yes, he is. I mean how the hell can you go wrong with that combination, shiitttit!

Negra, that's great! That's tremendous! We're all so happy for you! Where did you meet this guy? Huh? uh ruh... Negra...? I uh, okay I met him on Myspace. D'oh! I know, I know. I didn't anticipate meeting him on MySpace! Hell, I never anticipated meeting any damn body ( and trust me I ain't) on that thing. It just kinda happened. We talked and joked around, and we exchanged numbers and decided to meet up. But Negra, you can't just be meeting folks on My Damn Space! I mean-- Okay, whose damn blog is this? Y'all can talk y'alls shit on someone else's shit. I'm tryin' to tell a damn story!

Now. He was coming from the city (Los Angeles) to get me from where I live (the Valley), and that takes roughly 30 minutes. I swear the chile musta been drivin' 110 mph to get to me (told y'all I was fly), because he was there in 15!I wasn't ready when he got there! I didn't think he would get there so damn fast! So while he was outside, he had to wait for me to get ready! And it rained earlier that day, so a sista hair was FLUCKED up! I had to curl it! And you know what?! He waited for me( told y'all I was fly =)!

So 20 minutes later ( My curls later came out, because I did a crappy job of curling me hair, I did it in 15 minutes y'all), I'm walking to his car, and I'm nervous as shit, because all those pictures he saw of me, on MySpace, were damn near Glamour Shots, minimising the appearance of the wretched teeth, and I smile. He smiles back. Wait, what? Did this nigga not just see my grill? Why he smilin"? Is he laughin at me or somethin'? He asked me where I wanted to go, and I responded that we could go to Starbucks and figure it out from there. He agreed.Now, I'm sweatin like a pimp with one hoe, because of my insecurity. And to top things off, this nigga keeps lookin' at me and smilin'! I feel like ole' boy in my last post and am ready to start wildin' 'cause I wanna know what in the fuck he's smilin' at!

When we get to Starbucks, he's as confused as a baby in a topless bar because: a) He's a man. The hell does he know about a latte'? and b) He's Black. The hell does he know about a latte'? So I order a White Chocolate latte' for him because say it with me y'all, What the hell does he know about a latte'? Tee hee, Sometimes I'm too funny for my damn self. Anyway, I ordered it for him, and I said something to the effect of " You don't know shit 'bout ordering a latte' because you're Black (yes, I realize there's irony there. That's what made the joke semi funny), and I put my hand on his hand as I said the word "black" to indicate the color. And. Guess. The. Fuck. What.

Dude. Had. A. Fake. Hand.

I was just about ready to draw a chalk outline around my newly deceased body, when I regrouped myself, as not to alarm him. Oh my dear LORD. I was so embarrassed. For HIM, not for ME! I didn't want him to think that that kind of thing matters to me. I mean, I told you guys, he's a sweetheart. I mean, the boy can give you a toothache with all that damn sugar! And again, I told y'all I have my insecurities too! I just wanted him to know that it was all good! I ain't trippin'!

The night went on, and we were jokin' and hugged up on one another, like nothing ever happened. I mean at least I did. We ended the nigh t with a few kisses ( no tongue, but that's a different post) and planned to go to the movies this coming Tuesday.I called him to make sure he got home safe but didn't answer my call! D'oh! I text him earlier today, and he said he went to sleep as soon as he got home, but when I called again, he didn't answer. I'm going to attempt one last time to call him in a few minutes, and if he doesn't answer, then it'll be up to him to make the next move.

I learned two things last night: Be thankful for what you have, as life could always be a lot worse, and NEVER, NEVER, let an insecurity stop you from doing something. If anyone is focused on that insecurity, they're not worth the time spent in your head thinking about them. Sometimes your insecurity can weed out all the fake, superficial people in your life, and that's great.

I just hope Marcus knows I'm a genuine, and sincere person.

MEN!

2007-01-26T19:10:00.001-08:00

Anybody who knows me (not necessarily in the Biblical sense, mind you), knows that it's very simple to make La Negra Linda happy(I speak of myself in the 3rd person ALL the damn time. Got that ish from my mama). In fact there are only four real things that bring me ABSOLUTE joy, no matter what.

1) Food- La Negra Linda EATS. I'm quite finicky, picky, or whatever you wanna call it, and once I've discovered a type of food that doesn't make me cringe at the sight or smell of it, Negra is doin some SERIOUS consuming, son. Trust.

2) Music- I love music. When I was much younger, my father was a musician. Not the kind who smoked cigarettes, and propped me up on his knee, while telling me about how when he made it big, he was gonna by me a pony, then I wouldn't see the nigga for 6-7 months, due to his being on various "gigs", but in reality he was just livin with one of his hoes, that was payin his bills, so that he could have time to write, but wasn't writin nothin 'cause he had writers block, and she just didn't understand or appreciate his art, because she didn't really love him-- all while my mama was talkin' to me and my sister 'bout how he wasn't no good he was, which would make us cry, and be devoted to our father more than or mother, 'cause that nigga was gone buy us a pony, while she had stuff on lay-away at K-Mart for us ( how Hemingway of me). Na uh. I had, and still HAVE a GOOD father. He introduced me to music. He would play songs for my sister and I ( She's older than I am, and that trick got a SONG written about her when she was born), and explain all the instruments (and he played ALL of them), what they were called, how they were used, etc. To this day my music of choice is the classic R&B that he played for me.

3) Shopping- I'm a woman. 'Nuff said.

4) Men- Good GOD almighty do I love me some mens! I mean, 3 and 4 are tied in with each other! I go shopping all the time to be up on my game for menses!

Say what you will about women not needing a man to "validate them in anyway. You know what I say to that shit? Eff that,yo! Validate me nigga. Validate the FUCK outta me. I love everything about men. The way they, look, smell, talk. Fab, you hear me? FAB!

The only problem is that my adulation for all things male, I think causes extreme myopia, which ultimately brings about brutal mental anguish.

There's this guy I like. Fuck what you heard, despite my name, La Negra Linda has self esteem so low it can be scrapped off the ocean floor. And he's a gangster. No, not like " Nah, son, I don't wear no briefs, nigga, nah'msauin?! I'm a gansta. I wears DRAWZ, my nigga D-R- AWZ." No, not like that. Gangster as in this mofo started bangin' we he was NINE. His MAMA y'all, was in this gang, and was KILLED by her rivals. That kind of a gangster. He's NOT my boyfriend, and I'm not sure I would (hell who am I kidding, I do, I just don't wanna get shot) even want him to be my boyfriend. He just gives me attention. And I am an attention, is-you-buyin'-'cause I'se sellin'- WHORE.

Recently, I've been doing all the stuff that HE should be doing. I.E. paying his insurance, phone bill, buying dinner (am I getting PIMPED? Gah DAYUM, I really AM a whore! lol but not really =( ). And I've been getting a lil' less attention than usual. But you know what? I DON'T feel used! "Of course Negra you don't feel used. You like the guy". Okay, okay, maybe that's true. But remember how I told you guys about how much my hot behind liked men? I will JUMP at the opportunity to leave one, and get me another damn one. I've been used before. Hell, I get used all the time, really. Not always with money. In fact, when I 'm being used, it only deals with money, maybe 40% of the time. So, my point to this pointless post is : I KNOW when I'm being used. And when I get to that point, I stop. And maybe I'm blinded by his good dic--er-- personality, but, I don't feel like I'm being used. I could very well be.

My only problem with this guy is that I don't feel appreciated sometimes. That's why I'm fixin' to be done. Yea, Yea, I know I need to be done, cause homeboy used to be a pimp, has a baby mama(at 20), has a record longer than Crenshaw Blvd, and occasionally uses crystal meth, but we ain't talkin' bout that right now. I really need to get my ish straight. There are sooo many things wrong with this guy, but I am doing with him, what I do with MANY people. I ignore your faults and focus on what's "right" with you, rather than what's "wrong" with you. Is that wrong fam? Fam. Look at me actin' like I got folks really reading this jive.

Daddy's Little Headache

More Questions

The Questions

Ranting and Raving

Hey Y'all!

I Know This Is Old, But Why?

Are We That Bad At Funerals?

What In The Hot Holy FUCK?!

For My Friend, Coco Part II (Kinda)

GOD BLESS YOU, TRUTH

The Employment Chronicles

For My Friend, Coco Part I

Stand Up Jules!

No More Sad Posts (about Elijah anyway)

Eye Candy For The Masses (Big Ups To Truth!)

GOT DAMNIT!

I Finally Did It, Y'all

LOVE THIS SONG!

Daddy's Little Headache

Just Because...

Not What You Think, Well, It Kinda Is

Tru Life, Please Have A Seat Some Damn Where

My Baby's Daddy

I'm Stealing from Coco!

La Negra Linda's "Men"

You had to have seen this one coming

One Night Stand

Dear "Junior"

I'se Tired

I'm Beating Jess' Ass...

About Me

Smile, No Matter What

MEN!