Somehow the wires uncrossed, the tables were turned. Never knew I had such a lesson to learn.
I’m feelin’ good from my head to my shoes. Know where I’m goin’ and I know what to do.
I tidied up my point of view. I got a new attitude.
— Patti LaBelle  

 

Go, Donna. It’s my birthday. Go, Donna. It’s my birthday. Don’t y’all just love birthdays? Mama T be celebrating for evah. Well, not quite. Y’all know she a weekend girl and she don’t have no fun on da week day so we be celebratin on da weekend. An since Christmas is round da corner, our 2 year anniversary in January, den Valentine’s Day, Ima be celebrating till it’s time ta pull out da booty coolers and wife-beaters again (tho some of these people roun hea think they live in da tropics an they ain’t put away they shorts an tank tops yet. SMH).

But befo I go on, I need to get sumthin off my chest . . . . Some trifling azz mofos been searchin my blog for pictures of people getting they salad tossed. F*ck wrong wid y’all? Dis ain’t no got dang on porn site. Dis a famly oriented blog. Don’t be bringin yo sick azz nonsense up in hea. Ain’t nobody got time for dat. Take yo azz ovah to dumbazzpervert.com if you want suma dat bull. An when you get done, gone ovah to http://www.burninhell.net cos dat’s where you gonna end up. I hope while you there yo stuff fall off an you become a bunch of Eunuchs you slimy pieces of  . . . .  wooooooooooooo, child. Y’all gonna make me lose my religion up in hea. I swear. Deep breaths, Donna. Deep breaths.

Man, it felt good to get that offa my chest. I was fumin when I saw da stats an the numba people tryna get they freak on usin my blog. Uhn uhn . . . I ain’t the one. Y’all lucky I’on know who you is cos I’d cut you up my own damn self. Snip snip.

Na, where was I? Oh yeah . . . my birthday. So, da SPCA don’t know zactly when I was born so they told Mama T dat December 1st was the date they was gonna give me. I’m 3 years old now so dat mean I’m legal in human age. Mama T only have champagne an rum (she made a rum cake dis weekend) in da house, but Ima still tryn get a buzz on today.

Mama T say e’rybody should get some exams (physical, mental, spiritual, and financial) e’ry year befo they celebrate da day of they birth an since I ain’t got no job, I ain’t havta do da financial. All is well, cept da diet. An since I’m on a diet, Mama T just bought me some toys. I really like dis red an black pull toy. It’s strong, a true Kong.

As I was reflectin on da last year (part of the mental checkup), I decided Ima tryn not give Mama T so much grief dis year. She don’t embarrass easily but there is dis one time when me an Mama T was walkin back in Henrico an there was dis obese man outside tryna mow da lawn. I ain’t nevah seen nobody dat big befo so I sat down in da skreet an started watchin him. Mama T was pullin an pushin an tryin e’rything she could ta get me to move but I wudn budge. I was in awe. Den da man’s pants started ta fall and I was like, “Mama T, can you believe dat fat man’s pants don’t fit? How bout dat?” But den they fell and I just lost it.

“Aw, Lawd. What is it? Look at all da rolls. It’s da Michelin Man an he black. LAWD, what is ITTTTT??????????????? Mama T . . . . Wooofffffffff, awrfffffffffffffff, woof woof woofffffffffffff!!!!!!!!!!!!” Michelin Man went in da house. If black people turned red, Mama T wudda been scarlet but she was violet instead an she picked me up an started walkin as fast as she could. Charlie’s neighbor came outside cos y’all know n*ggaz be watchin e’rythang from inside an he was crackin up. Mama T said, “What the hell you laughing at? Ain’t nothing funny about her making that man feel uncomfortable in his own yard.” Charlie’s neighbor say, “Baby Girl, yo dog a trip. I be watching y’all an she got some kind of personality. Always ‘saying’ what everybody else is thinking. I bet he won’t be bringing his fat azz out to cut the grass again. And I’m glad ’cause didn’t nobody wanna look at that all day.” Mama T shook her head. She say it probly took him a minute get his courage up to come outside an she don’t preciate me makin fun of him.

I wudn makin fun of dat man; I was tryna figa out what da hell he was. Sides, he got a big ole wood fence up in his back yard. If he ain’t want nobody ta say nuthin ta him, how come he ain’t take his fat azz in da back yard an cut da grass? Dat’s what I’on undastan bout y’all humans. Y’all always doin some stupid azz sh*t den have da nerve ta get mad at somebody for recognizin it as stupid. Y’all think y’all so damn smart. Y’all ain’t . . . deep breaths, Donna. Deep breaths. Whew . . . Anyway, Mama T gave me a good tongue lashing but she ain’t spank me so I guess it wudn as bad as jumpin dat dog or maybe she just had enuf dat day she spanked me. Da man ain’t nevah come back outside no moe or at least I ain’t nevah seent him again. Good thang, tho, cos I’on know what I wudda done.

Da past year been good, but Ima turn ovah a new leaf. Ima stop cussin so much. An I’ma stop embarrassin Mama T. An Ima stop chasin flies cos don’t I look crazy doin it? 

Yeah, I’m grown an sexy now (done already lost 3 pounds on da diet. Woohoo! Way ta go, me.). It’s a new day an Ima have a new theme song for da year cos I’m just as fabulous as Ms. Ross. Check it out.

Always the Prima,
Donna