The Nerve of Some People...

You know…some niggas have a LOT of nerve.

Take for example a couple of weeks ago.

My godson’s mother *I’m really going to have to remember the alias I gave her* called me and gave me some earth shattering news.

We’re talking about the wedding of course, because you know when you’re about to get married that’s all people want to talk about, and she tells me how she spoke to KAPPA *they dated in high school* and how he told her he was going to be a groomsmen.

*record scratch*

Excuse me?! Wha?

Now of course she laughs in his face and told him he was delusional because there was no way in hell he was making it through the door let alone becoming a member of MY wedding party.

So he goes into this tirade with her on how JBN is his pers and it’s tradition and how it would be wrong for JBN to not honor the tradition and all that jazz.

I mean sure we had a drunken tryst that I rather poke my eyes out with a hot poker than admit you took advantage of my drunken state, then stalked me for numerous months not to mention almost broke up my relationship…but um yeah nigga you can be in the wedding. I mean I always let niggas I’ve fucked take part in very important parts of my life.

I mean that nigga who ate my pussy freshman year? Oh yeah he so walked across the stage with me at my college graduation because I mean, why not?

I mean no hard feelings right?

I don’t have to tell you I was heated and I was so tempted to call and curse him out…but I didn’t want him to have my number. So I had my friend, who was amused by this because we get amused so easily, relay a message back to the psychopath.

And then I shook JBN out of his nap on the couch and relayed the same thing to him. To which he yawned and went back to sleep. *lol* I guess he’s used to my temper tantrum.

The nerve of this nigga!

Then recently I stopped hiding my status on Yahoo because I effectively gotten rid of the random stalker/perv who thinks I’m into IM sex with a complete stranger.

Yeah like I’m up at this ungodly hour trolling for internet booty. And although I don’t know you, let me type dirty words to you and masturbate like I do know you because you know the fact that I know NOTHING about you makes me so hot.

*roll eyes*

So one night, I get an IM from SIGMA. Effectively riding him as a stalker a minute ago, I’m on some “what the hell do you want?” type of attitude.

Do you know this fool asked can he have an invite to my wedding?!

The nerve of this nigga!

Sure I’m more than willing to let a man who has confessed his love for me, his desire to be with me, hell wants to marry me himself and has persistently bugged me for over a year come to the wedding he was so determined to stop a few short months ago.

The fuck he think this is…a Mariah Carey video?

Like I’m going to be standing at the alter, torn expression on my face, looking back over my shoulder scanning for him, only for him to burst through the door, I gather my dress up and run down the aisle into his arm, JBN looking on with slumped and dejected shoulders.

… Riiight.

Then had to nerve to get upset talking about “We’re friends”.

I closed the window on his ass. I don’t have time for that shit.

I even had to burst a few co-workers bubbles.

I don’t even like you but you’re making plans to come to a wedding you’re not even invited to.

One chick even asked me what the weather is like in Chicago in August so she knows what to pack.

“For what? You’re not invited.”

*insert stunned face*

“But…We’re co-workers.”
*insert As if I gave a damn face*

“Yeah…this is a family and close friends wedding. Co-Workers need not apply”

*accusing tone* “Well you invited [insert a couple of co workers I’m cool with names]. They’re co-workers.”

Since clearly home girl wasn’t getting the picture and already had her hands on her hips, I just had to shut it down.

“Oh…Well…I just don’t like you” *goes back to typing email*

Looks up, she’s still standing by my chair.

“That is all. Please close my door on the way out.”

The nerve of this nigga. Well she’s not Black; she’s from some where in the Middle East, but still…the nerve of this nigga.

I don’t remember a wedding where invites are so coveted.

I almost feel like hiring a bouncer.

Who knew I was so popular?

…And damn who knew the pussy was that good? Maybe I do need a “Platinum Pussy” t shirt complete with glitter.

I’ll wear it to the bachlorette’s party.