This actually has nothing to do with Memorial Day. I just wanted to quit bitching and moaning and post something nutso. So here ya go:
Ooh baby I like it rawwwwwwww! Check out this gummy bacon. Why it’s strawberry-flavored, I dunno.
The BACON SUIT! Does the scent wear off after the wash? LAME! The models are hilarious, by the way.
Because it’s still pouring in my life. I’m walking around under my very own storm cloud, it seems. (okay, I’m being dramatic, just humor me)
Went to a 90s party last night… bangin’, by the way. Music from that era is my all time favorite. I was sangin’ EVERYword to nearly EVERY jam. SWV, Wu, Biggie, Mary, Buju Banton, Tribe, Snoop, etc. We hit the open bar HOARD before time was up so I was liquored up and groovin’ away. I could not quit dancing. To begin, I love to dance. I dance like nobody’s watching. I dance because I can’t NOT dance. Also, the DJ was doing his thing and was throwing on hit after nostalgic hit. In my fervor to let the beat hit me and take control ©Lisa Lisa and ‘nem, and in my zeal to always be fashionably fabulous, I rolled my ankle. A botched Heavy D move and some solid gold pumps sent my ankle to the side like a slept-on afro.
Ouch. However, ya girl kept on dancing on it for the rest of the night. Why? Well I already said that I’m a slave to the rhythm! I meant it. Finally, me and the Cougar Squad had to force ourselves to quit dancing by sitting outside the party. Right now, my jawn is tight and hurts when I rotate it. Oh well…
Can a sista get a break?