it's 2009. like, for real for real. where the fuck is my spaceship?

Jay: "fuck, dude. when i was a kid, i thought we'd be living like the jetsons or some shit in 2009."
Me: i don't know why you insist on calling me "dude". i've been fucking you for five and a half years and we're still not past that shit? and bitch, there were no black people on the jetsons. what you tryna say? you don't want no black people in your little world? you really think i won't divorce your stankin ass. i swear your daughter does not want me to have nipples."
Jay: why do you always have to talk about eleven thousand other things before addressing what the fuck i'm actually talking about?
Me: fuck, man. we're out of oreos.
Jay: SEE! that's that bullshit.
Me: nah, but for reals, where's my fuckin spaceship?
Jay: i know!

i've got lots of craziness going on in my head. i think too much and causes my brain to shut down leaving me with this stank ass look of confusion on my face and people think my attitude is all fucked up but really i'm just not capable of functioning at the moment. and it's not even serious shit i'm thinking about. well it kinda is, but not really. for instance, we have a housekeeper who does an awesome job at what she does. but i like to clean and there's never shit for me to do after she's been here. so then i'll go around the house fucking up shit to clean up but then i'll end up re-doing a lot of the stuff Josie's already done and when she comes back she's cussing me out in spanish because i won't let her do her job and then i feel bad cause she's totally right about me being an asshole.l

then, i have this battle with myself about ava and whether or not to spend money on expensive clothes and shit. i think i have a problem with shopping for baby stuff. it's all so cute and tiny though. and my baby deserves to be spoiled and shit...... even though she does not respect my nipple sensitivity.

and for a moment, i was looking at my little sweetface and wondered if i got the wrong baby. i mean, i know she's mine but she doesn't look jack shit like me. she has my lips and my eyes, but the rest is her daddy. she's got fair skin, his forehead, the nose, those ears, the chin, and now the hair. oh, the hair. i think that is what's really fucking me up. i was just convinced i was gonna have to deal with the mess my mom had to deal with; i was making preparations. not only is this shit turning from black to a light brown, and i'm gonna die if it gets any lighter, but there is not a kink or curl in this child's hair, what kind of fuckery? you got nigga blood flowing through your veins! i know that's a fucked up statement, but my baby is supposed to have curly hair. people just don't understand this shit. my mom was all like, 'oh, it'll curl up by the time she's 3 months old. that's how you and your sisters were.' well, bitch, it's 3 months, 1 week and 3 days. i don't see no damn curls and these funky ass ribbons and headbands do not stay put! i don't know how to do white people's hair!

and then, i have a husband who says the most fucked up shit in the world and does not even realize what the hell is coming out of his mouth. like a few weeks ago, after my birthday but before christmas, we had just had sex and were trying to get in as much cuddle time before lits woke up. this motherfucker looked me straight in the eye and said "i think i picked the wrong date to marry you."

the fuck?

"no, listen, see, first it's your birthday. then christmas. then our wedding anniversary. and then valentine's day. i don't get any recovery time."

"you like having balls, right?"

"huh? i don't get it."

no, dickfart, you don't. ugh. i just rocked your world for 20 whole minutes and you say some stupid shit like that? there are no words to describe the love i have for this man, but sometimes i really do wonder what the fuck is wrong with him and why he doesn't know when to just shut the fuck up. i'm gonna start making him write down his questions and comments and review them myself before letting him speak to me.

i'm bored and i have too much time on my hands.

happy new year, y'all!

Labels: littleface

--i refused to spellcheck @ 5:19 PM | |