You Can Eat Cake
I wish you people would stop emailing me your nasty comments about me not writing everyday. Ms G is going through a crisis right now. All the free cakes, cookies, restaurant gift certificates and other shit yall been sending me has finally caught up with me!! From my lips straight to these hips!
I got up yesterday morning to put on my Cavallie – NO, not Roberto but Pookie Cavallie – jeans. Yall know Pookie with the stand in front of the shrimp boat on Benning Road? Well Hemingway – I grabbed my jeans. Ironed them bone flat & sprayed ‘em board stiff with that Niagra green can starch until they could stand up by themselves. Took my shower. Greased myself up real good with shea & cocoa. Sprayed on my smelling salts & hopped into my tight – no not in a good way – Victoria Secrets. Of course my Secrets have long been out of the bag.
I stood my jeans up so I could step into them and started pulling them up & they just stopped at the knees. I checked the zipper & the damn thing was fine. So I fell back on the bed & tried to drag them up that way. Honey sparks were popping out the side of my thighs there was so much friction. Then I called Lil G to come rub some more cocoa butter on my hips. Honey my poor baby damn near used the whole jar.
“Ok Baby, Now help Mama pull her pants up please.” I asked my first born. She gave me a look like she knew it was impossible but didn’t want to get a whipping for saying so. Lil G pulled & pushed & slid & pumped to no avail. I know by now most of you would have given up but Ms G is not a quitter. I wasn’t letting my starch go to waste. Those biaches were getting on if it was the last thing I did.
An hour later I was hooking the zipper up with an old metal hanger. Thank God Mr BBQ King saves his from the cleaners. Lil G pushed me up off the bed & I immediately got light headed. Those jeans were cutting off so much circulation, air & belly gut I thought Tyrese had punched me in the back & kicked me in the front. I guess I would be skipping breakfast this day. As I slid down the stairs toward the front door, Lil G called out for me to be careful & don’t cut nobody with the crease of my jeans.
By the time I made it to work, my bikini line was on fire & I knew it was going to be a 14 day Monistat month for me when I got these things off. As I was wiggling out of my car, I saw Dollywood herself heading towards the office. There was no way in five HELLS I was going to let Ms BBB with her surgically altered flat gut see me like this. If I had a nickel for every time that biach offered me her doctors number, I could buy an Ike Turner learn at home “Beat a Biach Ass” kit. I let that heffa go in first.
I side walked into my office & slid into my chair. I was kinda reclined as my jeans were just too tight to bend or anything. Just as I was getting comfortable the phone rang. You know God really does have a sense of humor. While I’m struggling to catch my last breath, I gotta pick up the phone & hear my sister, Sexy Slim, mother of 4, thirty plus years sounding all cheerful & slender.
“Hey Girl! Damn what’s wrong with you? One of those eye dogs over there chasing you?” She laughed.
“Naw Girl, my Cavallies are too tight.” I replied.
“Yeah I called your house & Lil G was crying about her fingers being burned & her arm hurting from pulling on your pants. I’ma tell it to you straight cause I love you. You fat ass need to go on a diet & stop eating and shit!”
Now yall know Ms G was instantly pissed. I told her to go get a real booty & slammed the phone down in her face. Then I went to her MySpace page and left a real nasty message & posted one of her worst prom pictures ever! That’ll teach her.
Hemingway – a couple hours later I felt really bad. Slenderella was only telling the truth. I went to her MySpace & posted a big heart. Then I called her & she emailed me some AB slimming exercises & some other good tips. Later that night as BBQ King steamed me out of those jeans, & rubbed Neosporin on my coochie cuts I thought about how lucky I was to have a sister like Slenderella. Tomorrow I’m going to the gym with my Down South Video Booty Workout soundtrack. Yall come on down & work out with Ms G.
I got up yesterday morning to put on my Cavallie – NO, not Roberto but Pookie Cavallie – jeans. Yall know Pookie with the stand in front of the shrimp boat on Benning Road? Well Hemingway – I grabbed my jeans. Ironed them bone flat & sprayed ‘em board stiff with that Niagra green can starch until they could stand up by themselves. Took my shower. Greased myself up real good with shea & cocoa. Sprayed on my smelling salts & hopped into my tight – no not in a good way – Victoria Secrets. Of course my Secrets have long been out of the bag.
I stood my jeans up so I could step into them and started pulling them up & they just stopped at the knees. I checked the zipper & the damn thing was fine. So I fell back on the bed & tried to drag them up that way. Honey sparks were popping out the side of my thighs there was so much friction. Then I called Lil G to come rub some more cocoa butter on my hips. Honey my poor baby damn near used the whole jar.
“Ok Baby, Now help Mama pull her pants up please.” I asked my first born. She gave me a look like she knew it was impossible but didn’t want to get a whipping for saying so. Lil G pulled & pushed & slid & pumped to no avail. I know by now most of you would have given up but Ms G is not a quitter. I wasn’t letting my starch go to waste. Those biaches were getting on if it was the last thing I did.
An hour later I was hooking the zipper up with an old metal hanger. Thank God Mr BBQ King saves his from the cleaners. Lil G pushed me up off the bed & I immediately got light headed. Those jeans were cutting off so much circulation, air & belly gut I thought Tyrese had punched me in the back & kicked me in the front. I guess I would be skipping breakfast this day. As I slid down the stairs toward the front door, Lil G called out for me to be careful & don’t cut nobody with the crease of my jeans.
By the time I made it to work, my bikini line was on fire & I knew it was going to be a 14 day Monistat month for me when I got these things off. As I was wiggling out of my car, I saw Dollywood herself heading towards the office. There was no way in five HELLS I was going to let Ms BBB with her surgically altered flat gut see me like this. If I had a nickel for every time that biach offered me her doctors number, I could buy an Ike Turner learn at home “Beat a Biach Ass” kit. I let that heffa go in first.
I side walked into my office & slid into my chair. I was kinda reclined as my jeans were just too tight to bend or anything. Just as I was getting comfortable the phone rang. You know God really does have a sense of humor. While I’m struggling to catch my last breath, I gotta pick up the phone & hear my sister, Sexy Slim, mother of 4, thirty plus years sounding all cheerful & slender.
“Hey Girl! Damn what’s wrong with you? One of those eye dogs over there chasing you?” She laughed.
“Naw Girl, my Cavallies are too tight.” I replied.
“Yeah I called your house & Lil G was crying about her fingers being burned & her arm hurting from pulling on your pants. I’ma tell it to you straight cause I love you. You fat ass need to go on a diet & stop eating and shit!”
Now yall know Ms G was instantly pissed. I told her to go get a real booty & slammed the phone down in her face. Then I went to her MySpace page and left a real nasty message & posted one of her worst prom pictures ever! That’ll teach her.
Hemingway – a couple hours later I felt really bad. Slenderella was only telling the truth. I went to her MySpace & posted a big heart. Then I called her & she emailed me some AB slimming exercises & some other good tips. Later that night as BBQ King steamed me out of those jeans, & rubbed Neosporin on my coochie cuts I thought about how lucky I was to have a sister like Slenderella. Tomorrow I’m going to the gym with my Down South Video Booty Workout soundtrack. Yall come on down & work out with Ms G.
posted by Ms G @ 4:19 AM
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