Insightful Revelations after Lunch, da "FIF"

If you don't know why it says "FIF" rather than "Fifth" then I feel sorry for you, you poor, Chapelle-deprived individual.

During lunch today, I've come to the following conclusions.

1. Usher needs his ass whooped for that damn Confessions song. I'm feelin the little interlude on the CD before the song comes on. But damn. At the end of the song where he's talking about "This isn't about my life, this is about us" or whatever bull he's trying to say, there should be some sound effects of homegirl pickin' up a hot #10 cast iron skillet (preferably fresh from fryin' either some chicken or catfish for the flaming grease effect) and wearing his ass out with it. I wish a nigga would knock up some other broad and then come at me talking about "It isn't about my life, I love you, its about us, blah blah..." If I had to drive all the way to my granny's house in Watts, fry up some chicken, eat it, then take that big ass skillet and drive all the way back to him to beat his ass with it, then thats just what I'd have to do. But I'mma be prepared. I've already laid claim to both my momma's skillets, and she said I could have them once I move out. So baby daddies, beware. This skinny bitch packs heat, as in hot ass chicken grease and a skillet for yo' ass. Don't even think I'm playing.

2. I'm really violent when it comes to sorry niggas. I guess I need to take one of them anger management classes that my insurance plan covers before my ass catches a case.

3. My boss needs someone to talk to, because he hasn't stopped talking since he walked in at 8:00 a.m. It's all good though, I guess I'll always have my memories of last week and the past 3 days.

4. My car is hella filthy, but thats nothing new.

5. That pizza was good as hell. Life is good once more.

6. I need to get my lazy butt to work, and SO DO YOU! So I will be benevolent, and stop here so you may do your work. Because I'm a nice Queen, and I don't believe in holding hostages (unless its really necessary). So carry on subjects.