by Dirty Pour on 09.22.17 at 07:11 AM

TRAUMATIZED  

“Guess what I did last weekend, Gurl!”

Nothing. Absolutely NOT a blessed nor damned thang. That’s why we gonna be talking bout what we dids later in the week(meaning: a multitude of foolishness as I’m sure you have already perceived). Dees hoes be tripping. Right? Sooo…? What had happened was…. This weeks rant is about a cut, a cop, a crash, a cousin, and a curfew. Again, Dirty Pour don’t do curfews. PERIOD. However, this curfew is a little on the deceptive side, just like my A cup breast. Speaking of breast. We sell those at my new job. Breasts not A cups. That’s something to rant about, my new gig I started with this week. After a LONG financial drought I’m ready to bring my A game on and start making some serious cash. Instead of playing that on going “Special Guest” on the set of “12 Broke Bitches”. Or whatever it’s called. Tired. NEXT. Now if I could only gets this place to switch a bitch to-night shift. I’ll be real swift.

Let’s first discuss the cut… Actually, the cut, the cop, and the crash are one story and the cousin and the curfew are another. It was time to have “My Mane Maintained”. It’s insane and a shame. My hairdo look like boo boo and I am now through. Sooo…? I went and gots mine tended to. Yes. I gots my hair did. And it was DRA-MA. Naturally, Mafia Moto escorted me and she backed that bumper up like a damn juvenile. Right into another bumper. Oh. No. Right before I loose my locks. Dear me. Thank GOD nothing happened to us. Except Mofia Moto received a ticket. How embarrassing! Shameless. And she was. This cop came outta no where. FAST. Good thing he didn’t shoot or taser us. Ooo, uh, uh! No Mame! Mafia Moto be misrepresenting. ALWAYS. But sha thinks she’s the “Head Nigga in Charge!”  Please. Okey-Dokey? You best go back to Bokey with that skeeze.

Traumatized, I staggered to my appointment on time. Luckily Mofia Moto didn’t have NO contraband nor penicillin on her either. Anyways… Let me tell you… my barber is da bomb! His shop is named after a type of bomb too. He way out yonder. VIP. I gets my bubbly, remove mop ugly, feeling QUIET lovely. Now EBT.gov me. See the shady thang was the cop followed me in to the shop. Weird. And he just sat there. It felt like that time I was in booking down on 33rd. I was under his close surveillance the whole time. Like a hawk on a chicken. But NOT like that, he had a wedding ring on. I hope he couldn’t smell anythang on me. Plus I wasn’t wearing any clean panties. Actually I don’t think I had any panties on come to think of it. Regardless he had no business frisking me. Unless he leaves me BIG tip. And I’m not referring to nobody’s penis either. Ooo, uh, uh. You NASTY! Where your minds be at? The gutters that’s where.

Finally we are getting to my cousin and her curfew. She actually doesn’t have a curfew, however my aunt treats her like she does. My aunt talks to her like she’s in high school again. Where are you going? Who are you going to be with? How long you plan on being there? I mean really? Are you writing a book we don’t know bout? My poor cousin hurt herself and she’s been hobbling along like a Vietnam Veteran getting reenlisted to Afghanistan. If Ghan is tan then how dark am I? And who is Ghan anyways? Back to my cousin. She needs help. Let’s discuss her hair since our story has become a hair blog. Currently my cousin looks like a Munchee-Chee on a BAD hit of ACID. I just haven’t had the heart to tell her yet. But she should know why she can’t gets a man. I don’t even see her with no dirty dick either. Guess she’s not desperate just boring as Hell. You know she had da nerves to tells me she’s not my entertainment. Um-mm…  Why else to you think I keeps you around. It’s not to boost my popularity ratings. Those are already rising.

-Dirty Pour