You Can't Out Talk Me!!

Sorry guys it was a pretty boring day today.

I was off today so I decided to hit the mall to do a little shopping. I need some summer clothes badly so I decided to hit up Forever 21 which I love anyway although I find myself in “bigger” sizes due to the fact I think bottoms in that store is Euro-cut or maybe I just have too much booty for the “WG” pants. After squeezing into a size 9 at Forever 21 because these cute white crop pants were in the only size that I could possibly fit in and they were so cute I could not walk out the door without them. The only thing I hate about the store is you really have to search for everything because there isn’t any real order to the store. Sh*t just everywhere. I also broke down and bought a few more shirts with the promise that I will be in next week to get more things for my trip to sunny Orland. I also bought a pair of all Black Chucks because I love Chucks for some reason now. They’re pretty comfortable. I don’t wear them with socks or anything but I find they are comfortable driving shoes for me. *lol* I don’t know I feel like I can actually feel the petal therefore controlling my speed. Yes, I have been driving all week. Getting a feel of the road or whatnot. No one has died or crashed yet into me so I guess I’m doing a pretty good job. The Beltway of course is still out. Of course I was spending money that I don’t have as I have to spend $325 on a plane ticket to go home Friday since I was too lazy to buy it last week. I wanted to come in on Thursday but um yeah the family is not worth that $445 right now. Especially since I’m going to Orlando next Thursday. And I have yet to buy anything for that trip.

I need a few more swim suits and some outfits. Not to mention the patent flip flops. Got to have the flip flops. I feel more results now that I actually am becoming a regular at the gym. I don’t have to suck in my gut when I walk past someone cute. And when I pig out, I only have a slight Buddha belly.

It seems like I have a ton of things to do before I leave for Chicago on Friday. Like looking for the right outfit for the wedding on Saturday. I told my mother I would attend and behave. If I just happen to accidentally trip her, I mean I am clumsy you know. They requested that everyone try to wear red/white as those are the colors for the wedding. So I can either look red-hot or white-lightening. I do have these “come hither” red pumps though…

*LOL*

I promise to behave (somewhat). Besides I’m really going home to see my new niece. I’ve heard claims that she resembles me and I was like, Honey, no one could look as good as me but then again I wasn’t a real cute baby. I had a little water head and like four strings of hair (all nappy) until I was two. Of course my mother pulled those little four strings up in barrettes and hair bows. Pure torture looking at those pictures if you asked me. But then again looking at the history of some of my mother’s hairstyles is pure torture. Not to mention fashion sense. *shudder* Where was the Baby Phat, Akademics, and Rocawear in the 80s when it was truly needed? It’s better than everyone’s claim that she looks like my brother. I’m still out on whether or not that’s a good thing.
Then apparently in my drunken state Friday I have this guy KEIFF. Yeah not “Keith” but “Keiff”. You know Black people can’t pronounce “th” to save their life. Luther=Loo-fah, Keith=Keiff. And besides he has like some weird DC/SC/NY accent so when he said his name was “Keiff”, I started cracking up.

Boy talking to him was like talking to E-40. Every other word I’m like “Huh”, “Repeat that”, “What”? Boy’s accent was thicker than molasses. WTF does molasses look like any way? Is it that thick brown stuff that’s in your grandmother’s pantry that looks as if it’s been there since Civil War times?

Keiff also is crazy. As in “Did he really just say that foolishness” crazy NOT STALKER crazy who thankfully I did not see this weekend. Eventually the conversation had to end due to his craziness.

He has several flaws in my book. One he is 33. Two he has THREE kids. And not “little” kids either. He has 13 years old and twelve year old twins. Yeah so his oldest is like 10 years younger than me and he is ten years older than me. Umm yeah Step-Mama is not for me. Three, not only does he admits his kids’ mother (singular shockingly) is crazy as hell yet he still sleeps with her. As in sexually. Umm yeah that’s not a great way to start a conversation. Four, he boasts on his potent sperm. “Twins run in my family” do not make me want to cock my legs open anymore than before. In fact, a b*tch is running in the opposite direction. Five, he is a chronic talker.

You know how I feel about a chronic talker. I already talk too damn much as it is so I don’t need another motor mouth cutting me off while I’m talking. We’re both just talking and rambling about something and nothing at the same time. I don’t need a talker in my life. So needless to say this was basically a one-sided conversation. I did not get a paragraph in the whole conversation. I would ask a smig of a question and he goes off into another tangent then had the nerve to ask me why am I so quiet? I’m like, “I’m just liste---“ before he cuts me off to talk about something else.

Namely me and him.

Apparently he likes a “woman who can listen without running off at the mouth”.

So I had to break it down to him that I have a man and we live together. You know the whole script I give when honestly I’m not feeling you but rather than just be a real asshole about it, I try the “nicer” approach. I mean there’s the coy way of admitting I have a man and then there’s the “let me shove this fake ass “wedding” band in your face so you know I have someone at home” way.

He had the nerve to come out his mouth with, ”I can be the man on the side and then gave me a speech on why he is the perfect candidate for being the man on the side. I’m just like, “Damn when did this become like a Presidential campaign? Running on the “Who Wants To Slide Up in Tenacious-Summer ’06” campaign and sh*t. I mean he was saying some outlandish sh*t. I mean the jest of it was basically since my man is not doing his job at home when I need my “pipes clean” I can call him.

So I’m like, Are you a certified plumber with a degree in the future or something. I sure as hell don’t remember telling you my pipes needs cleaning so you must be like a psychic plumber or something

So he runs some more game and I’m just through yall. Through. You will not try to outtalk a talker. You just will not. Especially out of the panties. You will not try to talk Tenacious out the panties! For every thing he said, I had a rebuttal. I was just amazed. We go from a simple conversation (with translators) of course to you just being upfront and want to be my side dish.

I told him the only things I like on the side are mashed potatoes and corn.

Besides bragging about potent sperm is not the way to a girl’s vaginal muscles. Maybe to someone else but not me.

Crazy Baby Mama=Big No No. I have enough to worry about. I don’t need your Baby Mama who you still f*ck by the way to be calling me all hours of the night. I don’t have daytime minutes set aside for bullsh*t thank you very much.

Kids=No No. I am not trying to be step-mama part duex. Plus kids let me know you have the ability to produce active sperm. Active sperm that be slicing muthaf*cking eggs in half and thirds. I don’t mind if you do have a child but children? Some one should have been wrapping it up more often. Besides a male with kids always end up with some sort of drama.

Age-While you are ten years older than me, I am not looking for “Daddy”. I have a father. You will not try to drop some knowledge on me that I have known since I sprouted breasts at the ripe old age of 15. Don’t try to brainwash me into giving up the booty. I am a new breed ok and I have a PhD in sniffing out bullsh*t. And why the hell are you in the club looking for young girls? At 33 shouldn’t you be at a stepper’s set instead of grinding on girls that’s not too far in age from your 12 year old girls? Hell some of them might be 12 up in the club.

You will not try to out talk a talker. I don’t know where you got the notion I am a “listener”. N*gga I’m a talker. I would be more of a talker if you did not cut me off every 5 seconds trying to brain wash me into giving up the nookie.

Lastly, I don’t know where the hell you got the notion that my man ain’t lying it down in the bedroom. He’s laying this b*tch down brick by brick. Muthaf*cker is the foundation. You ain’t sh*t but the crack on the ceiling that can easily be covered. The day he doesn’t is the day we break up. And you’re not even on the list for rebound booty.

**Click**

Haven’t heard from his ass since.

Ima really need to stop being so damn friendly when I drink.