the little coffee shop

so what i’m saying is this:

washcloths need to be put into the dirty clothes basket after use #1 because if one more of my pubic hairs end up on my tongue i’m gonna be pissed. (and this is not the keep you from wanting to kiss me or to disgust you because i know damn well some of y’all wanna put your pubic hairs -or lack there of- on my tongue)
sidenote: we must not call vagina “womb” when talking about how good the sex is.
i.e. “man, i got this new chick. she’s thick as fuck. and she got some good womb.”
i woke up this morning to the knock of the mailman and the sound of the ice cream truck that sells corn on the cob.
i mean…if you sell hot corn on the cob from a truck – i feel like you should be playing “la cucaracha” – but i could be very wrong.
oh so…the mailman’s package: a care package from the great @fearcediva.
she saved this black man’s life.
i’ve been living off of high sodium noodles for the past month.
thanks to her i can add fruit roll-ups to that diet.

and speaking of la cucaracha – there was one in my service elevator in my building. not feeling it. he got off on the 2nd floor. thank god i live on the 3rd.
and now…here i am at the coffee bean and tea leaf drinking a chai tea frapp with no whip and working on this great piece of art – thinking about the people who want to keep up with me.
so in closing – before writing – i say:
we are where we are because our thoughts have brought us here.
if you don’t like where you are – change your thoughts!

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