i’m so bloated i could cry. -spent half the day time-coding footage of the interviews featuring only people on the planet more neurotic, and chatty than me; New York Jews. i’m hungry and can’t bring myself to eat because i’m sick of everything available in my neighborhood, i’m semi-broke, the bloating (obvs), and i just don’t have it in me to get it together. typing this is really hard. fuck it, i just want to drink juice and watch Tiny & Toya.
today i watched Fat Girl.
this is 13 year-old Anaïs (character’s name as well as the actor’s name). she is the younger, smarter, flyer, fatter sister of a really hot french girl named Elena. her brilliant use of side-eye in the above screen-cap made me fall in love from 21 jump. she’s mugging the aforementioned sister whilst beasting a banana split because Elena was in heat and presenting to a sexual italian they met at a cafe –Fernando. i’m sure there is a clever joke/pun/riddle/rhyme/dance to be made about male genitalia, bananas, splits, etc but i haven’t eaten in a few hours, and bringing myself to that level of cheesiness will undoubtedly lead me to think of real cheese, and then i may risk getting all Kanye West up in this piece and BREAKING MY NEW MACBOOK PRO BECAUSE HUNGER JUST WON’T LET ME BE GREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!
just kickin’ it. you’ll have to excuse my unabashed fuckery, i’m writing this shit and watching Tiny & Toya simultaneously. um, this shot probably has something to do with her repping team chunk to the fullest and feeling weightless and free and fresh and a bunch of other shit you’d hear in a Summer’s Eve commercial.
Anaïs was feeling sad, so Elena had to help a bitch out. on second thought –she’s a mark ass trick! this looks like some hansel and gretel type mess that i’m not with.
then Anaïs got dragged to the beach with Fernando and Elena on some 10 Things I Hate About You “you have to take your sister with you if you’re trying to fuck” type shit. A-boogie got bucket ass nekkid, and started crying again.
Elena continued to be cunty (i mean it in both senses, acting like a cunt as well as looking fierce).
penis!
Fernando gave Elena a fuck engagement ring.
nigga laid pipe with Anaïs present. Elena was crying because she was a virgin and i guess it hurt, or whatever. so Anaïs started to cry again. this time i think it had something to do with a little heart-to-heart the sisters Creole French had with each-other, where they giggled, held hands (i’m not even kidding), talked about how connected they were even though Elena incessantly criticized Anaïs for her looks and eating habits. something like, “you’re a part of me” -ugh.
essentially; my calling you Shamu has to do with my feeling your fatness. reflexively, in this instance, it was Anaïs expressing; when your pussy hurts, my pussy hurts.
ok, so anyway they (Anaïs, Elena, and their mom) had to end their vacaysh’ (did i forget to mention the majority of this took place in some nondescript French town that French people, and apparently Italians, like to go during the summer?) early ’cause of all of Elena’s prior pussy popping. oh! and the fuck ring Fernando gave her wasn’t actually his dead grandmother’s as he’d previously said, but his very buck, and more importantly very alive mom’s. Anaïs dealt with the tension by chowing down on some sort of indecipherable (it looked like a pre-packaged waffle) doughy snack. i’m pretty sure the director was driving home the whole ‘i eat my feelings’ schtick, but quite frankly, i don’t get the whole “i can’t eat when i’m depressed” mentality. my mantra has always been; in times of peril, eat toast. besides, Elena was not shown putting anything besides dick into her mouth throughout the entire movie. full disclosure: i don’t trust people that don’t eat actual food.
moms got pretty tuckered out from all of the driving and slut-shaming she’d been doing all day so she did the responsible thing they make you promise you’ll do when you take the drivers test at the DMV, and pulled over to sleep. Elena got out of the car and walked across to the truck stop, presumably to turn tricks. i’m pretty sure we were just supposed to assume she was going potty but i know broads. Anaïs just leaned back in the cut and ate an admittedly (i’m admitting it) cock-shaped, green, marshmallow type situation. then things got fucking CRUNK…
a st. lunatic busted through the windshield with an axe, and straight clocked Elena upside the head. yes i laughed, and no i don’t plan on going to church this Sunday. put me on you’re prayer card, though. he also strangled the mom to death. Anaïs pissed her pants, literally, and wiggled out of their vintage Benz. then homeboy who’d gone off his meds chased Anaïs into the woods and raped her.
oh oh oh, i should probs mention that it was significant because throughout the entire movie Anaïs said, unlike her sadiddy sister, she didn’t want to be or think she was ‘in love’ with the first dude she had sex with because she’s smart, and practical she didn’t think it was realistic that she’d spend the rest of her life with the first Scooby she was drunk enough to bone.
it’s almost the end of the movie now. Elena’s all dead and stuff. she got knocked the fuck out.
in the end Anaïs lied to the po-po and said Rapist #1 hadn’t lived up to his name. aaaaand this is the still they chose to freeze on and begin the tunes for the credits.
i guess.
don’t let me get placed in development at a major television network that shan’t be named. when they ask for my fresh, young opinion on new programming ideas all they’re gonna get from me is links to snarky bitches like the one mr. kid fury. two snaps and a circle!
i need to e-mail my mom and ask her how many bottles of this shit we used to go through every month between the years of 1991 & 1996. this shit is so fucking throwback it makes my scalp hurt just looking at it.
i was “tender headed” and the presence of this bottle among a more 90’s-looking version of this bottle, some grease, and a hand-towel with an array of combs and brushes was my signal to grab a 50 cent soda as fast as my dirty hands could manage and do my best crackhead run out of the front door to go “play outside” because a bitch was not trying to be groomed. tragic-mulatto-steez.
today, i figured out a few things;
1. from this point forward, i’m going to attempt to attain the mind-set of only really caring about what my mother thinks of me. essentially sending a resounding ‘fuck you’ to my habit of letting pretentious, self-important, dilettantes get to me. too serial-killerish? WELP… what? remember? i don’t care what you think anymore. worth a shot.
2. when my neighbors bbq in the backyard, it makes me want to eat ribs (just like that^).
3. aaaaaand, when put up against the angst and anxiety of a stomach-churning 10 A.M. job interview, having your bathroom ceiling cave in (complete with flooding, and black mold) is kind of like, whatevsies.
(some sort of Reverend Run-esque sign-off)
Queens used to go in, I guess.
i’m trying to find pictures of bangs that i like to show to my hairdresser. it’s hard.
…and, yes –it’s because i can’t afford a weave.
which would be most delicious and amazing-inducing?
you guys, it’s carrots and dip! fresh out of the ice box… aw dang.
this is called “balling out (bodega-style)”
AWWWW… YOU AIN’T KNOW I WAS FINNA BUST OUT A PROPER MEAL ON YOUR ASS! don’t be mad cuz i’m stylin’ on you.
and there is the snackarooskie that’s probably produced by the same company that makes the blunt wraps i would need in order to get high enough to consider eating these guys.
recipe jam…
2 forkfuls thai cuisine curry paste.
several splatterings of olive oil
table spoon of white vinegar
1/4 can of v8
(combine in saucepan)
***add pasta to pan, and stir. continue to fold pasta into the sauce. add red pepper flakes (optional). salt to taste.
and another one bites the dust. ladies and gentleman, this is Loon. yes, that Loon from that one song. the one that this ho used to pipe in a cheap apartment in Decatur, GA.
we already know Bad Boy kills careers but it seems things get so bad for some “artists” that they are forced to seek a higher purpose. ’member when Mase stopped robo-tripping (or using whatever depressant he was on in the nineties –anyone know? i want some) and became a evangelical pastor? then remember how he tried to make a come back with that “Welcome Back” bullshit, and immediately went back to preaching?
this isn’t very different, Loon channeling his inner-Muhammad, or whatever. but usually niggas have to get locked up before they start schilling bean pies for Allah. i can’t imagine working for Puffy is much better. yeah, i said it. fuck yo’ cheescake, nigga. at least Loons managed to do away with all of the agonizing involved in putting together an outfit for Diddy-bop’s annual fiesta de blanco. that is, if defectors are still invited. chill, Aubrey –i’m sure your invite got lost in the mail.
can you even begin to imagine the amount of nasty, booty-cheek laden, drug-ridden, philandering, sinful, sick kind of shit that went on in the land of the latently homosexual Sean Diddy Combs that would make a perfectly hood individual from Harlem turn into a docile man of God? sooooo much fun, right? makes me glad i’m not a muslim.
