ohnoes! it's an update!
yeah, so i don't ever ever ever do this. but i think this time it's worth it. please, whoever reads this, don't stop before you get to the shy/outgoing question.
oh, benjamin,if only you were a woman.
This is funny. YOU fill in the blanks about ME even if u dont have any idea what they are and send a reply back to ME. But first post a blank one out to all your friends so they can return the favor to you. Be honest and reply!! If you dont know the answer make up something funny!
My name: Jodi Melissa Titlickingdeadhorsebeatingtrailerparkbounddrivebyfingerbanginguptoanotherbulldykesbigoldvagina Belgard. Sometimes I refer to you as "Features"
Who is the love of my life: A sturdy set of fingers with clean, clipped fingernails rubbing on your insides. Who those fingers are attached to is a matter of what day of the week it is presently being.
Where did we meet: At a non-elitist table on a rainy, rainy day. That stone-cold bitch you were with said something about my manboobs and you laughed. Whore. Who's laughing now? Don't look me in the face.
Take a stab at my middle name: Creole Lady Marmalade?
How long have you known me: Long enough to acquire a taste for your particular brand of Haterade.
When is the last time that we saw each other: A SPARSE FEW MINUTES ON YESTERDAY. HELLO. ARE YOU LISTENING? SPARSE. I KNOW YOU HATE TO PAY UP ON A BILL BUT YOU CAN'T OVERDRAFT ON ATTENTION, CHILD.
Do I smoke: I have known a sister to puff on a Mentholated cigarette or twopacks.
Do I drink: Only if you can affor--wait a second. Yes. All the time. And then (as you well know) you be throwing down on a jawbone and yacky-twaddling with some Johnny-come-lately-stranger for a minute or twain. Then you amble on to a bathroom or to take a phone call for an hour or two while I am stuck there having to talk to their ass.
What was your first impression of upon meeting me/seeing me: I analogize my first impressions to maybe a bright sunny day with a winterish breezes, or maybe a pool of vomit left at my feet by a vagrant philosophizer like Reeve Dorsey.
What's one of my favorite things to do: Preponderate and chew up on the fat. Play a Loaded Questions. Lick on a lady's box.
Am I funny: You do know how to crack a smile on these dinosaur teeth.
What's my favorite type of music: We have very similar tastes, which means you appreciate any old Holleration in a Dancery or a Fancy almost as much as I do.
What is the best feature about me: That way you pull your mane over to one side of your head.
Am I shy or outgoing: Well, there's a little story about why are you so outgoing:
I remember it all very well looking back: it was the summer you turned 18. You lived up in a one-room, run-down shack on the outskirts of New Orleans. You didn't be having money for food or rent (like now, child). To say the least you was hard pressed. Your mama spent every last penny she be having to buy you a dancing pantsuit. Mama washed and combed and curled that hair (and dyed up on them grays) and painted your eyes and lips (with a sheer neutral tone), then you stepped into a satin pantsuit, split up the side, clean up to those ankles. It was RED velvet trim and it fit you good. Then staring back from the looking glass was a boo-daggah where a half-grown dyke had stood.
Mama dabbed a little bit of Calvin Klein on your neck and she acted like she was going to kiss up on that cheek. You could see the tears welling up on the inside of those troubled eyes as she started to speak. She looked at y'alls pitiful ass shack and looked at you and drew a ragged breath (you were quite a spectacle). She say, "Davis Earl's runnoft and I've got a hurtin' up under this shoulderblade and the baby's gonna starve to death." She handed you a heart-shaped locket that be reading, "To thine own self be true," and you shivered as you watched a roach crawl across the toe of that chunky Ked of a shoe. It sounded like somebody else that was talking, you say, "Mama what do I do?" She say, "Just be nice to the bulldaggers Fancy, and they'll be nice to you."
Wellllll that was the last time you say that Mama, when you left that rickety shack. The wellfare people came and took the baby, Mama went to the casino and you ain't been back. But the WHEELS of fate had started to turn, and for a sister there was no way out. It weren't but a day or twain till you know exactly what your Mama'd been a-talking about. You did what you had to do, but you made yourself a solemn vow--you was going to be a lipstick dyke one day, but you didn't know when or how. You couldn't see spending up on that life with a head hung down in shame. You might have been born some plain white trash, but Fancy was your name.
It wasn't long after a benevolent lady took you in off the street, and one week later you was shining up on her military boots in a five-room barrack suite. You charmed a king (drag) and Congresslady (Hilliary Clinton) and an occasional aristocrat (some famous carpet muncher like Jodi Foster), and you got you a Georgia mansion and an elegant Jackson Street Two-Room Flat. You ain't done bad. Now in this life there's a lot of self-righteous hypocrites who would be calling your bad, and criticizing your mama for giving you a root and making you a bulldyke no matter how little y'all had. And though you ain't had to worry about nothing for nigh on a year or two, you can still hear the desperation in your poor mama's voice ringing in the, big old ears--talk about, "Here's your one chance Fancy don't let me down, child! Here's your one chance Fancy, please don't be letting Mama down! Lord forgive me for what I do, but I'm going to get to the casino on time then it's up to you to get on out girl. Bye, I said. Mama's got to get up town (to Marksville)."
And that's why you real outgoing.
Am I a rebel or do I follow the rules: You ain't a rebel, but you don't exactly follow a rule. Why hello Shannon Noland's face.
Do I have any special talents: You know to to write a word down real good. You keep me entertained (SPECIAL).
Would you call me preppy, average, sporty, punk, hippie, glam, nerdy, snobby, or something else (what): Dykey.
Have you ever hugged me: Once or twice by accident. And then we both reacted to it like two naked dudes who accidentally blow each other in a locker room full of people. There was shame on our faces, child.
What is my favorite food: Anything that comes in a box. GET IT OH MAN BAM
Have you ever had a crush on me: No child.
If there was one good nickname for me, what would it be: "Features" or "Jodiman" are my favorites!
What's your favorite memory of me: All of the times we just decide to do ridiculous stupid things at the last minute. Like making up on a felt doll or two.
Who do I like right now: Double-A Batteries! Y'all is real cute together.
What is my worst habit: Beating a dead horse when you know better. Of course, the phrase "beating a dead horse" is becoming a dead horse that I am beating.
If you and I were stranded on a desert island, what is the one thing I would bring? A basket full of emotions and conflict when what we really need is the will to survive and a boat or two.
Are we friends: Though my pride deters me from admitting it, yes.
Do you want us to be more than friends? Ughh.
Will you repost this so I can do it for you? I already have, fool.
oh, benjamin,if only you were a woman.
This is funny. YOU fill in the blanks about ME even if u dont have any idea what they are and send a reply back to ME. But first post a blank one out to all your friends so they can return the favor to you. Be honest and reply!! If you dont know the answer make up something funny!
My name: Jodi Melissa Titlickingdeadhorsebeatingtrailerparkbounddrivebyfingerbanginguptoanotherbulldykesbigoldvagina Belgard. Sometimes I refer to you as "Features"
Who is the love of my life: A sturdy set of fingers with clean, clipped fingernails rubbing on your insides. Who those fingers are attached to is a matter of what day of the week it is presently being.
Where did we meet: At a non-elitist table on a rainy, rainy day. That stone-cold bitch you were with said something about my manboobs and you laughed. Whore. Who's laughing now? Don't look me in the face.
Take a stab at my middle name: Creole Lady Marmalade?
How long have you known me: Long enough to acquire a taste for your particular brand of Haterade.
When is the last time that we saw each other: A SPARSE FEW MINUTES ON YESTERDAY. HELLO. ARE YOU LISTENING? SPARSE. I KNOW YOU HATE TO PAY UP ON A BILL BUT YOU CAN'T OVERDRAFT ON ATTENTION, CHILD.
Do I smoke: I have known a sister to puff on a Mentholated cigarette or twopacks.
Do I drink: Only if you can affor--wait a second. Yes. All the time. And then (as you well know) you be throwing down on a jawbone and yacky-twaddling with some Johnny-come-lately-stranger for a minute or twain. Then you amble on to a bathroom or to take a phone call for an hour or two while I am stuck there having to talk to their ass.
What was your first impression of upon meeting me/seeing me: I analogize my first impressions to maybe a bright sunny day with a winterish breezes, or maybe a pool of vomit left at my feet by a vagrant philosophizer like Reeve Dorsey.
What's one of my favorite things to do: Preponderate and chew up on the fat. Play a Loaded Questions. Lick on a lady's box.
Am I funny: You do know how to crack a smile on these dinosaur teeth.
What's my favorite type of music: We have very similar tastes, which means you appreciate any old Holleration in a Dancery or a Fancy almost as much as I do.
What is the best feature about me: That way you pull your mane over to one side of your head.
Am I shy or outgoing: Well, there's a little story about why are you so outgoing:
I remember it all very well looking back: it was the summer you turned 18. You lived up in a one-room, run-down shack on the outskirts of New Orleans. You didn't be having money for food or rent (like now, child). To say the least you was hard pressed. Your mama spent every last penny she be having to buy you a dancing pantsuit. Mama washed and combed and curled that hair (and dyed up on them grays) and painted your eyes and lips (with a sheer neutral tone), then you stepped into a satin pantsuit, split up the side, clean up to those ankles. It was RED velvet trim and it fit you good. Then staring back from the looking glass was a boo-daggah where a half-grown dyke had stood.
Mama dabbed a little bit of Calvin Klein on your neck and she acted like she was going to kiss up on that cheek. You could see the tears welling up on the inside of those troubled eyes as she started to speak. She looked at y'alls pitiful ass shack and looked at you and drew a ragged breath (you were quite a spectacle). She say, "Davis Earl's runnoft and I've got a hurtin' up under this shoulderblade and the baby's gonna starve to death." She handed you a heart-shaped locket that be reading, "To thine own self be true," and you shivered as you watched a roach crawl across the toe of that chunky Ked of a shoe. It sounded like somebody else that was talking, you say, "Mama what do I do?" She say, "Just be nice to the bulldaggers Fancy, and they'll be nice to you."
Wellllll that was the last time you say that Mama, when you left that rickety shack. The wellfare people came and took the baby, Mama went to the casino and you ain't been back. But the WHEELS of fate had started to turn, and for a sister there was no way out. It weren't but a day or twain till you know exactly what your Mama'd been a-talking about. You did what you had to do, but you made yourself a solemn vow--you was going to be a lipstick dyke one day, but you didn't know when or how. You couldn't see spending up on that life with a head hung down in shame. You might have been born some plain white trash, but Fancy was your name.
It wasn't long after a benevolent lady took you in off the street, and one week later you was shining up on her military boots in a five-room barrack suite. You charmed a king (drag) and Congresslady (Hilliary Clinton) and an occasional aristocrat (some famous carpet muncher like Jodi Foster), and you got you a Georgia mansion and an elegant Jackson Street Two-Room Flat. You ain't done bad. Now in this life there's a lot of self-righteous hypocrites who would be calling your bad, and criticizing your mama for giving you a root and making you a bulldyke no matter how little y'all had. And though you ain't had to worry about nothing for nigh on a year or two, you can still hear the desperation in your poor mama's voice ringing in the, big old ears--talk about, "Here's your one chance Fancy don't let me down, child! Here's your one chance Fancy, please don't be letting Mama down! Lord forgive me for what I do, but I'm going to get to the casino on time then it's up to you to get on out girl. Bye, I said. Mama's got to get up town (to Marksville)."
And that's why you real outgoing.
Am I a rebel or do I follow the rules: You ain't a rebel, but you don't exactly follow a rule. Why hello Shannon Noland's face.
Do I have any special talents: You know to to write a word down real good. You keep me entertained (SPECIAL).
Would you call me preppy, average, sporty, punk, hippie, glam, nerdy, snobby, or something else (what): Dykey.
Have you ever hugged me: Once or twice by accident. And then we both reacted to it like two naked dudes who accidentally blow each other in a locker room full of people. There was shame on our faces, child.
What is my favorite food: Anything that comes in a box. GET IT OH MAN BAM
Have you ever had a crush on me: No child.
If there was one good nickname for me, what would it be: "Features" or "Jodiman" are my favorites!
What's your favorite memory of me: All of the times we just decide to do ridiculous stupid things at the last minute. Like making up on a felt doll or two.
Who do I like right now: Double-A Batteries! Y'all is real cute together.
What is my worst habit: Beating a dead horse when you know better. Of course, the phrase "beating a dead horse" is becoming a dead horse that I am beating.
If you and I were stranded on a desert island, what is the one thing I would bring? A basket full of emotions and conflict when what we really need is the will to survive and a boat or two.
Are we friends: Though my pride deters me from admitting it, yes.
Do you want us to be more than friends? Ughh.
Will you repost this so I can do it for you? I already have, fool.