Exhaustion (check), crankiness (check), messy room (check), life in disarray (check). Well, it seems like everything is in order (actually out of order). I'm just waking up from what was supposed to be a nap. I got home last night from a short weekend in Philly, and had high hopes of unpacking, taking a shower, and preparing myself for work today. WRONG! My bedside light is still on, along with my television. My bags are sitting right where I dropped them last night, and it hurts to type (I'm so tired)!
(presses REWIND button)
On Friday after work I decided to take myself on an impromptu date. I took myself to go see 'Death at a Funeral'. It was so funny, I definitely recommend it. I got out of the movie fairly early, which was good. I still had to pack for my weekend trip to Philly. Even though I was only staying for a couple of days, many shoe, belt, and sunglass options needed to be explored. Now I can see why Kimora travels with nothing less than 30 trunks.
After much deliberation, I finally made some very important wardrobe decisions and turned into bed.
The next day my boyfriend, his roommate (Hi Tim), and I left DC at around noon. It was a pretty easy ride, thank god there was no traffic. We arrived in Philly and dropped our bags.
I immediately wanted to get out and walk around before we had to be back at the hotel at 7.
It was a tad chilly this weekend, but it was great walking around and catching some of the sites. After some light shopping, we stopped into the Bellevue hotel for a quick bite to eat and a couple of libations.
The lounge was on the rooftop, and was said to be one of the best views of the city! It was gorgeous, and my French 75 was to die for. After drinks it was time to head back to the hotel for what we actually came to Philly for. My boyfriend's a greek. Oh no, not like John Stamos, he's in a fraternity and they were having a banquet at the hotel.
Everyone was nice and somewhat excepting of the homo couple at the banquet. I guess if I were to show up holding a gay pride flag while wearing leather chaps and nipple clamps things would have been a little different. I decided against the leather chaps, and went for this...
Oh, I'm still wearing the nipple clamps though. They're just under the shirt. It was my little secret (wink).
After my bathroom self-photo shoot session, I came back to my table. I took a sip of my cocktail, and nearly choked. Just look at what I saw...
A girl there was covered in tattoos. Two in particular on her leg didn't sit right with me. Oh yeah, you're seeing it correctly. This chick has a cupcake and a high heeled shoe on her leg. Who did this to her? She couldn't have been conscious when she got these. The only explanation is that someone slipped her a mickey, hog-tied her, gagged her and then tatted her up. If she willingly went to a tattoo parlor, and paid for this, she should go to prison. That's so tacky, but who am I to judge? (side eye)
While I was being grossed out by homegirl's elementary art tattoos, the "Housecunts" were holding down home base (Lauriol Plaza) in DC.
After the whole tattoo incident, I needed to use the little sailor's room again (take more pictures of myself in the mirror). Nothing calms my nerves like bathroom self photo shoots!
Chunk up the deuce!
After a little more self-entertainment, I thought it was safe to head back into the party.
I walked in, but walked back out. Maybe I was in the wrong ballroom? Who replaced the Kappa dinner with a ghetto wedding? Why were they playing the cha cha, and why was that big girl getting down like that? She was so happy after her meal, that she wanted to cut a rug. After the cha cha, they played the "Electric Slide". I said "fuck it", and joined in. When in Rome.
After my Showtime At The Apollo moment, we had high hopes of finding a cute place to go to. We rode around for a while. but couldn't quite get our bearings. It was also 1 a.m., and things shut down at 2 in Philly. I decided to call it a night. The banquet was fun enough for me. It was just good to be in another city for a change.
I got up and put on my standard bowtie and velvet slippers, then it was time to go. After a couple of quick stops, we headed to a really cute spot called "PYT".
That's a huge pic on the wall inside the cafe. The place was cute, but the food and service was horrible. I ordered a margarita. When it came (ten minutes later), it tasted like shit. I told our waitress that I didn't like it, she just stared at me and walked away. I wasn't in the best mood, and that bitch was glad I didn't get up and pour it on her head. I decided to go to the bar and handle it myself. I wasn't in my own city, and I didn't want to cause a scene. That waitress was a bitch, and she can eat a bowl of dicks!
While I was fighting with the help in Philly, the "Housecunts" were on U st here in D.C. for brunch at Marvin.
The "Battle of the Breast!"
After brunch and a couple more stops, we headed back to DC. Which brings me to where I am now. I have to work today, but I'm on major "stall mode". I need to put my ass in gear (no maricón--for my latinos out there), or else I'm gonna be soooo late. I'm not fuckin' with y'all anymore, I gotta roll. Peace fools!
So, it seems that Coolio's baby's mama is filing for $300 worth of child support. Anabella Bellesi (the "baby mama"), has a one year old child with Coolio, and claims that he does not take care of the child.
It has been reported that Coolio only earns $1,387 a month, which could explain why the baby has no diapers. I'm sorry, but that's her fault. Why the hell would she fuck Coolio? Then even worse why would she have a baby by his broke down ass? Nothing about him says "cash cow". If I'm gonna have a baby by someone, trust and believe I'm gettin' that A-rab money! Besides, Coolio is gross and he looks like his breath smells like pickled pig's feet. Hopefully for the baby's sake things work out.
Have a baby by me baby, be on welfare!
Caught by Q
Can't see it, look closer...
(doing math in my head)
Now how much blood would I have to give for these Mr. Hare loafers from his SS10 collection?I'd be frail and as pale as a ghost, but at least I'd be steppin' in style. I'm not opposed to giving blood close to 60 times for these. It gives the term "walking for blood" a new twist!