What a sad Monday morning for me!

First of all, I spent all weekend cleaning my house. It was long, long overdue. It took two days, if that gives you any idea at all and lets just say the jack-o-lantern my daughter carved was in the Sunday trash all moldy and shit. So it sucked to be me this weekend.

Second, I was probably the only person on the planet that didn't know Gerald Levert died on Friday. HOW SAD! He was really one of my favorite singers. Such great ballads. My prayers go out to his family and friends.

I lost someone close to me earlier this year and it fuckin sucks dinosaur eggs. More on that later though.

So, hubby made it home safely. I was glad to hear that resonating snore once again, even if it meant the loss of covers and bed space.

My brother...he's so funny. He's an IT "geek" if you will. He's been trying to get me to get a myspace page. I'm reluctant and at this point, almost dead set against it.

My husband has a myspace page. My brother has one. My girl friend has one. My 15 year old niece has a myspace page that my brother found and promptly grounded her for having. Just insanity. So what is the big freakin deal, here?

I don't know how to work the shit so I usually just go to my husband's page and look at his friends. The aforementioned brother and girl friend are "friends" of his on the site so I usually just link from his to theirs. On the plus side, they've found friends from high school that live all over the country. People that you were friends with that you'd still be friends with if time and distance didn't pull you apart.

BUT some of these other "friends". Lawd...they look so STANK. These chicks...some of them so busted looking - they look like Flavor of Love rejects, ya hear? And lets not get on the shit they say cuz thats even worse.

Now, I can be mad that these bitches... and you bitches know who you are...or not. I chose not. My hubby is in the music biz. I'm in real estate. Ain't nobody tossin me panties to get a building made. But these bitches, they'd blow you for a Lil Wayne CD and blow your buddies buddy for a free promotional tee shirt. So shit is different. But lets put it in perspective...

*TRUE STORY*

My husband was set to open for a soul artist at a club in DC. 2 hours before the show, we're both knocked out at home. Him on the couch, me upstairs sprawled out on the bed. 30 minutes before we're supposed to be at the club, he's runnin upstairs talking about, "if you coming with me, we got to go!". I had on sweatpants and a cotton tee-shirt and flip flops. My hair was pulled back into a ponytail (for which I am famous) and not a speck of makeup on. But I wanted to go, so I rolled outta bed, brushed my teeth and hopped in the car.

While my hubby is dragging his crate of records to the dj booth, I park the car. On my short walk to the club, I walk past these two young broads. One of them says, "Oh I hope she ain't..." and her friend was like, "Say no..." Guess the sweatpants had them fucked up! Needless to say, these bitches was gussied up in the best their part-time job money could buy. They came to the club to get themselves a man. I, however, did not.

The moral of the story, folks is this:

You bitches buy a "special outfit", pay to get into the club, beg these dudes to buy you a drink, and pray one of them takes you home or to IHOP afterwards.

I'm that bitch that rolls out of the bed with sweats on, sits in the best seat in the house, getting free drinks all night AND gets a cut of what you paid at the door.

THANKS!!!!