Insightful Revelations after Lunch, Number eight or nine, or something like that.

Man, I promise I'll get the numbers right by tomorrow.

Welcome to the section where I revel in my own amazingly enlightened genius after lunch and a nigga-riffic nap. This afternoon, I am more cranky than usual, but so what. If you've been following the Amazing and Almighty, Mean and Malicious, MiniMee-MistyMarie, Neighborhood Queen (reigning supreme) (or more commonly known as: me) through the journey of my regal life, then you know I've been placed on a self-inflicted drought. If you didn't know, welcome to the terror.

Truth be told, this is much more difficult than the last time I attempted this about three years ago. Something about the scent of that Ralph Lauren cologne in the dark blue bottle makes me wanna forget my obligations. But I'm holding it down.

In an effort to keep me on track, I remind myself what I don't miss about getting some on the regular. It ain't much, but there is one thing in particular that can make me keep these long ass legs of mine closed like the eurosealer got a hold 'a them.

And that's nigga's screaming like hoes.

Ain't that my job?

Don't get me wrong, I like positive reinforcement as much at the next sista. But damn. Some of y'all overdo that shit. Case and point: some of the past ex'es. Ain't up in it no time, and niggas sounding like they about to straight cry. Whimpering and all that kinda gay sounding mess (no offense to my Gay citizens of the Kingdom, but you know what I mean). So I figure I need to switch to a more, uh... submissive position, snap them niggas outta "bitch" mode back into "butch" mode. Nope, don't work. Still screaming like a bitch, and I'm still disgusted. I'm getting increasingly grossed the hell out. Eventually it gets so heinous that I open my eyes, and I'll be damned if the facial expressions dont kill me. It takes all the superhuman strength of Thor to keep me from busting out laughing all in they face. I mean flat out dying, like "Nigga put yo' damn draws on and get the hell away from me" dying. So I switch positions again, so I can't see they face by accident. Niggas still yodeling and shit. Once its over I can't even look at them because all I can think is, "damn nigga, you sound like a bitch". Then I feel all butch because I'm super disgusted with them, and they was yellin' more than me. I feel gyped. This shit has happened more often then not, so when I remember the frequency on which I encounter this phenomenon, I don't miss the dick so much.

Well, I hope this has been as informative for you as theraputic for me. And if not, then Kiss My Ass.... All Y'all!

Back to work, peasants! For I have mandated it, and it shall be so (y'all should know that shit by now...)