I spent my Saturday basking in the sun while enjoying the pompano beach seafood festival. I spent all Sunday regretting ever having left my house.
right now i literally look like a weather beaten leather saddle on a horse. This shit is fucking terrible. instead of applying spf whateverthefuck on to my fair, house-Rican stright-from-the-plantation skin… I rubbed on that hawaiian tropic crap that actually absorbs ultraviolet rays. Its like I bought myself a DIY skin cancer kit. for lack of a better description,. The whole process is sort of like basting your own skin with olive oil before placing yourself in the oven known as the south florida sun for 7 consecutive hours. i look like a piece of well-tenderized meat that has been left baking in the oven too long.
the worst part of this incident was coming into work today. everyone passing me by has either made a snide comment or given me that “oooh, that looks like it hurts” face. fuck you all, and your condescending faces. Even the lady who can’t close her eyes all the way clicked her tongue at my misfortune.
yes, i have sunburn. yes, it clearly hurts. no, i didn’t use sunscreen… if i had, would i look like this? no, i don’t want to slather on my grill any of the fruity smelling lotion you keep in your purse (that last offer was made primarily by the black women in my office. it occurs to me that they have little to no frame of reference as to sunburn on this level).
one dumb bitch asked me if somebody had been slapping/punching me in the face. no. nobody has been slapping me in the face, you stupid hussy. please die in a fire.
the current count of people who have asked me about my torched grill currently stands at 73. i predict that that number will top 400 by the end of the work week. The remainder of my week will be spent cursing my ribosomal dna for shorting me in the melanin department. why couldn’t i have been born trigueño? sure, i wouldn’t be able to get a home loan or shop in the rich people mall without being considered a suspect… but at this moment my life would be jolly and relatively pain free.
I invite you to put me out of my misery post haste and shoot me – execution style – in the back of my head. A gnarly brain-splattered death can’t be any worse than this.
there weren’t many positives about last week’s episode of LOST… to be honest, i wasn’t impressed. so michael is the “inside man” on the freighter? not a big shock. also – the flash forward with sun vs the flash back with jin was a pretty cheap device meant to screw with the audience. but the one saving grace of last week’s episode was this moment:
DAAAAAAMN!
this is one of those moments when you’re glad that baby jesus came down from heaven and invented tivo. sun straight up DEEBO‘d juliet. actually, it was more like rick james slapping the black off of charlie murphy’s face – but you get the idea. a classic maneuver.
cold blooded.
well deserved, if you asked me. if you snitch someone out about an infidelity/false paternity in front of their husband, you should really expect to get trucked in the face shortly thereafter. in fact, if we’re going to get all jerry springer about it, sun actually loses mad ghetto points for not stomping juliet out right where she stood. instead she kisses and makes up with her later on in the episode? nah, son… the streets are watching. sun needed to keep it a little more gangsta than she did. nevertheless, it was an all-time favorite moment in an otherwise humdrum episode.
sometimes i just like to watch videos of people getting the shit slapped out of them.
is that weird?
i can’t decide if #1 or #4 is my favorite. the “where my money at?” slap is always a classic. then again, there is something to be said for the dude in the suit slapping some meddling asshole stupid and then keeping it moving. check out all 5 slap-fests and you make the call…
my mother is a fucking character. my dad is pretty much a humorless nerd, so any sense of comedy residing in me comes from mom. for example, this is a joke she told me today (during our weekly sunday call):
this pimp has 2 of the dirtiest hoes you’ve ever seen, and its time to collect. he tells the first hoe:
“bitch you owe me $500…pay up!”
the hoe says “but i only owe you $300!”
the pimp slaps her and says ‘BITCH DONT CORRECT ME!”
The pimp goes up to the 2nd hoe and asks her for the $500 she owes him. The hoe replies “but i only owe you $250!”
the pimp slaps the shit out of her too and says “BITCH DONT CORRECT ME!”
So then the pimp goes up to the third hoe and is like “Bitch you owe me $500…pay up!”
*breaking character* when the person you’re telling the joke to says “i thought
there were only 2 hoes?” you’re supposed to slap them in the face and yell
“BITCH DONT CORRECT ME!”
this is hilarious to me on a number of levels:
first, please believe that mom’s delivery is half the joke. this is a lady who understands the key to telling a good joke is timing.
but even beyond that, it’s funny to me that my mom thinks about pimps at all, much less pimps slapping up hoes.
there’s something about the phrase “BITCH DONT CORRECT ME” that seems a little too proper for a hoe slappin’ pimp. i imagine someone else told my mom that joke using more colorful phrases, and that “bitch don’t correct me” was the best interpretation she could manage to produce.
why did my mom think that anyone was going to notice that there were 3 hoes being slapped instead of two? and does she really think that someone is going to let you slap them? i suppose i’m missing the point.
i shudder to think about what crossed my mother’s mind when the person who told her this joke asked her to conjure in her mind an image of “2 of the dirtiest hoes you’ve ever seen”
regardless, she’s awesome for even breaking off that joke at all. happy birthday mom. you’re sketchy. and i dig that about you.
******
for some reason these re-cut movie trailers are hilarious to me. i won’t even try to explain this. just watch them….you’ll be amused:
the shining
big
mary poppins
******
the good, the bad, and the ugly.
is it sketchy that i’m physically attracted to ugly betty? america ferrera is gross in a way that makes you want to do terribly naughty things with her. what ever happened to the days where i lusted over salma hayek? have my standards really sunk this low?
******
i have so much fucking writing to do if i’m going to have 30 new articles before march 15th. excuse the fact that his is a cheap one, but as you can see i usually write looooong ass stories. the details are what entertains me when writing blogs.
by the way the name blog needs to be eliminated. it just sounds wack. i’m not sure who thought shortening the words “web log” into “blog” was a good idea, but whoever that fucker is, he/she were wrong. same goes for that creepy name co-mingling thing thats going on. brangelina? bennifer? stop all that.
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right now i literally look like a weather beaten leather saddle on a horse. This shit is fucking terrible. instead of applying spf whateverthefuck on to my fair, house-Rican stright-from-the-plantation skin… I rubbed on that hawaiian tropic crap that actually absorbs ultraviolet rays. Its like I bought myself a DIY skin cancer kit. for lack of a better description,. The whole process is sort of like basting your own skin with olive oil before placing yourself in the oven known as the south florida sun for 7 consecutive hours. i look like a piece of well-tenderized meat that has been left baking in the oven too long.
one dumb bitch asked me if somebody had been slapping/punching me in the face. no. nobody has been slapping me in the face, you stupid hussy. please die in a fire.
Posted by jayare20k 
