Just so Malicious!

It has been brought to my attention that I may be just a tad bit crazy and a Jesus Freak. That the sun rises in the north and sets in the south and the sky is dotted with stuffed animals and a few flowers - in my world.

So what do I say to that?

Well, justification is only for people that matter, i.e. close friends. Everybody else is just there. Existing only to help me in my purpose. Therefore, I need not to justify why I may have said or done something, especially if it was wrong and God has forgiven me for it. And especially if they don't sign my checks.

Craziness is a mindset. Maybe the fact that someone has time to think and dwell on how crazy you were shows obsessive compulsive tendencies. Am I indeed two bananas short of a bunch or two jokers short of a full deck? I don't think I'm crazy, just misunderstood. From a viewpoint of not being sane, I would think that I am pretty sane - I am in college, I have a couple of jobs, I write for release, I pray for therapy, and I laugh for quality of life. And one could argue that these are also symptoms of a serial killer. AHA! Not so. Because a serial killer does not look this good. Maybe an assassin**, but definitely not a serial killer.

What do I say to being a Jesus Freak? I say "thank you." If my life reflects to you in a way where I would labeled on fire for Christ, well amen to that, and you can keep it moving! I am not worthy - Hallelujah. Jesus loves us entirely too much to spit in His face. Like duh you guys. Must you live vicariously through me to piggyback off of my blessings because you are too scared to get your own? Maybe you should try to be a Jesus freak too. Rather be a Jesus freak than just a freak, you heathen.

'Tis All.

*picture-www.crazyladycandy.com
**Disclaimer- I am not a murder/killer/assassin.

Leap of Faith

So, in a bold move, I just wrote myself a check for $100,000 in US currency.

Why?

Because one day, one day, one day, I will be able to cash that check for myself. It's in a safe place, a really safe place. At least, a place I deem to be safe. One day I will look back on this day and shed tears of joy because I will look around and see the list in my "faith notebook" filled with completed goals. And I will smile, my husband will hug me tightly and my children will be somewhere in the house behaving. And we'll all be blessed!!

Motivation for faith is key. And sometimes, you just don't feel like it. It's so much easier to reason that as long as you have enough to pay your bills, or keep food on the table, or a mediocre job, or a mediocre relationship with God, then that is enough. Is it enough to live hand to mouth check to check? Is it enough for me to wonder whether or not I will be able to keep my electricity on, or to have to decide between my telephone and my water? Is it enough for me to only speak in tongues and not be able to cast out demons or heal the sick? I think not.

It's not enough to sit back and take those things that inconvenience me (or you). I shouldn't have to wear Wet 'n' Wild when I can wear MAC, Bobbi Brown, or even Covergirl.

Today is the day that you and I begin to work on our minds. Let's not stay defeated in any area of our lives. Most people think that it only possible to be blessed in one way or the other. While I'm not saying that you gotta be rich to be saved, you should be the lender not the borrower...but how can you lend if you don't have anything? How can you provide shelter for someone if you can barely keep your house? Where are our priorities where our clothes and cars cost more than our homes?

In the end, I am just trying to cash this check that I have in this safe place and do the dern thing.

'Tis All.

Do I look like I give a d@mn?

This is my wtf rant, keeping them coming comin'- on the rocks, no chaser.

1) Look at my face, my pretty gorgeous face, and ask me if I look like I care that you got some Bathin' Apes?!?!

Like OMG, IDK Soldja Boi! That song is so oily and disturbing that I literally have a pimple because of it. I would take a picture, but I ain't trying to go there. WTF were you thinking? This song should be burned... in hell, forever. The original lyrics should be shredded and fed to goats in a field.

Anyone who purchases these shoes because of this song, is not the business. I hope they have holes in the bottom of their shoes by the end of the week so they can feel just as stupid and drugged up as I feel after I listen to that song in it's entirety. Someone should kick them in their booty meat. Ewwwww!

2) Look at me, do I look like I care about your ego, pride, or the possibility of your embarrassment?!?!?

Men, if you have an STD, please tell your girl. Or should someone hit you up with a lawsuit for reckless endangerment? I declare I am going to scream if I hear another story about a negroid accidentally giving his girl an STD. WTF accidental? You knew you had it way back when so don't get mad if you sleep with her the second time and she smell a lil' different. That was your bad. Your bad, your bad.

Don't get mad if she look at you with the cock eye for no reason one day. And if she asks you if there was even a possibility that it could have been you, MAN THE FREAK UP and tell her, yes it was me. Matter of fact, don't wait for her to ask, let her know immediately. There should be no question- by the time penis hits vagina, there should be no unsolved mysteries.

And men and women and brethren, that is what foreplay is for (not that I condone per martial anything, I'm just saying) you should be inspecting for anything that could possibly be out of place, please don't get it twisted. As for the song called *Smell your D*ck,* if you gotta ask your man to smell it, chances are he ain't doing you right and that he triflin' for coming home at 2 am with the smelly balls sensation.

Same goes for females.

3)Check out the wrinkle in my forehead as I try to understand your outfit!!!

Everybody is not a fashionista. Just because you walking around on campus all bright with three different oranges on does not mean it's an outfit. You are supposed to be stopping traffic and not directing it or signaling planes or something. And I hope that your clothes fit!

4)As I breathe a heavy sigh and throw my hands to Heaven:

As for the prophecy that the world will end in 2012- uhm, ok. Then they say the Nephalim are coming back and some other stuff too... There are so many prophecies that must be fulfilled that I wonder how are all of them will in a matter of 5 years... Matter of fact, while you trippin' if Obama is elected president, I'm going to live in a cave because obviously it's about to be some stuff going down on the world front anyway. I'm just saying. (You got my vote black man).

5)Look at me as I cry about the state of the world and televangelists.

The IRS is finally investigating these folks. Now I admit, TD Jakes got his business on the side, ain't mad at that, you gotta hustle to stay alive. However he also said that some Christians should be in first class and some in coach - am I not good enough to sit next to your four hundred dollar shoes Mr. Jakes? I mean, I am trying to be a televangelist too so I can drive an imported Jaguar and get a house in the Hills with an indoor movie theater and skating rink. And y'all keep saying that I gotta surround myself with the people who are doing what I want and going where I am trying to go, can I sit next to you - can you buy me a ticket, that's the better question. It was said that they were giving each other gifts in order to hide the funds of the church. Lord have mercy for them hustling in the House, that's why Jesus turned them tables over!

Do I look like I care that it's cold outside? This is why I'm hot.

'Tis All.

Friends, how many of us have them?

I got some good friends y'all. And I feel bad for the females who don't have good friends. Dedicated to them/HER:

Grow up little girl
Get your mind right.
Can't put two and two together?
I guess you're not too bright.
A picture may speak a thousand words
And create tensions within,
But I doubt your vocab is large enough
To adequately define them.
Do me a favor-
Please sit down
The things you do
Only make you look like a clown.
And how lame is your friend,
A student at my school,
Who thought her friend's man was cheating
And played it cool?
To sit back like paparazzi
And take pictures like snap snap,
Like her name is Dick Tracy
And she investigating a trap.
Why didn't she find out what was up?
Why didn't she try to see the deal?
We were DANCING, your friend is lame*-
I'm just keeping it real.
I don't want your man
Is it that serious?
A dance at a party= cut buddy?
You are SO delirious!
I NEVER did anything she said I did,
And that's where you come in.
She probably wants your man
And is playing off like she your "friend."
Girl please, take my picture down
You don't know me!
Stop your childishness-
Back up off me!
I just wanted to let you know,
And this much is true-
I am so SAVED in Christ,
And God loves you too!
Vengeance is mine, said the Lord
But please don't test me.
I got too much to lose in life
To have somebody arrest me.

*And you're lame for getting mad.

'Tis All.

Let the Church say Amen.

Close your eyes and imagine (well not really), just pretend like you are in church. Pastor just announced the praise dancers, and your spirit is like Hallelujah, Amen. Mary Mary comes on and you're just like 'Yes'. Then out of nowhere, twelve year old and younger females start "cranking that".

And yet again, on youtube, there is a group of young men and women cranking that Holy Ghost. Does that even make sense? Crank that Holy Ghost? How about being guided by the Holy Ghost, or being convicted by the Holy Ghost?

Black people, I say this with all endearment and peace in my spirit... everything that is secular is NOT transferable to the Church. Seriously folks. This has got to stop! This madness, it's ludicrous. Can I shake my booty meat for the Lord? Can I spiderman that hoe and hang her from the balcony in the Church so she can hear the Word? Can I get me bodied for Jesus? No. What does get me bodied even mean?

I wish I would see the Pastor's wife in Church with a mini skirt and some thigh high boots, a halter top, and a pink wig talking about God knows my heart. I'm telling you, the Church is headed south folks. At this rate, you're going to see people passing that 'dro along with the offering basket, taking communion with a shot of Hennessey, and demanding a callous remover and pumice stone with the feet washing.

It just ain't right. Leave well enough alone. I bet we're going to hear a remix of Bed in the choir stand soon:

He'll wrap His arms around your head
Remember everything you said
A love you like you're His best friend
Rest in Him like you're in bed, bed, bed...

I see it coming, black people. And this should not be.

But that's all I have, as I am procrastinating at the moment.

Moral of this story: Just say no.

'Tis All.

Ode to my Stretch Marks

After caressing my cellulite in all of its glory, I move my hands to the 9th wonder of the world, my stretch marks.

Yep, yep, my stretch marks.

Perfectly positioned. Uniquely laid. Gives my legs the longer, leaner look leading up to my banging booty in my bad high heeled boots.

And you thought that my thighs were a shade lighter than my skin tone? AHA. Gotcha. My stretch marks, so intertwined, act as an all natural skin brightener. Forget the bleach, reach- for the potato chips.

My stretch marks moonlight as a cost effective GPS system when I have deviated from the course leading towards my destination:



I just pull my shirt up a little, pull my pants down a little and I have access to any road map that I may need. Or when my man's hands deviate from the waist line, I kindly tell him to follow the road signs back to where he needs to be.

If you pour some milk and honey on my thighs, I SWEAR that you will see hearts, stars, and horseshoes.

The rumble in these jungles are reminiscent of San Andreas Fault line. Times 10. When I move my body like a cyclone, my stretch marks wave like a tsunami. Splash.

Admiring my thighs at night is like watching shooting stars. Make a wish. I promise it'll come true.

Don't hate on my stretch game. This has been ordained. It's up to you to press for the STRETCH mark of the high calling. Amen.

But eventually, my shea butter may make them fade away, which may cost me tons in gas money as I won't have access to directions. But, I'll remember that my stretch marks are the business. Plus, I heard that imperfections can get you major play, at least, that's what happened to Deelishus. Rumpshaker!

'Tis All.