I typed da message below on Whensday and tried ta send it to y’all but my nails kept getting caught in da keys so I had ta wait til Mama T could send it and she decided to translate cos she say y’all won’t understand what I typed but I wanted y’all ta know dat I tried. >:D< (Big hug!) :* (and kiss)

Kclj dklsnhoum esojlkdi dopjsoj sidjoempouje ojdo0jwea oumeaoj moajmdojfoenw

Dojxpomsdoj adojmodja0oejmloa djosjmdeom lsmndoje a o!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! andmojda mdoamadmoeanm oemaojdaonmeagoem dojmepojomeaojfng adp0oma odmoaema deoma.

sdimdpejfonm  odnpeonhaf oe dine ofhjpe qaon oenpfoenado e[ponmdolejnd a0oejnoifnep0q nfenone eoneojhan eon e p0jme4o ne

Well, y’all, da jig is up. Me an Mama T got this thing we do e’ry day. We get up at 5. Walk 2.5 miles. Come home. Mama T gets ready for work. We eat. She finishes getting ready. Then when I hear the click of the doe unlocking, I run out da pet doe and rush ta her car so she can chase me back in da yard before she leaves. When she leave, I go back in da house and steal what evah food she done left on da counta an fa got to put away. Dis been goin on for a minute an Mama T thought she was goin c-nile. She come home an be lookin e’rywhere for her chips or cookies or banana bread an den she be like, “Did I eat it or did I forget to buy it?” An I just sit there an look at her like, “Po Mama T. She loosin it.” An she say, “I sure am, booboo.” (She call me dat cos she think she saw me eat poop one day.)

So, on Whensday Mama T fa got sumthin and she came back home when she was sposed to be at work. She caught me draggin da sticky buns thru da pet doe an unda da deck. Y’all shudda seent her face when she looked unda da deck an saw all kinds of potato chip bags an tin pans an foil. She was cussin an hissin but lucky for me she had ta go back to work cos she looked like she did dat time when she spankt me. I went all da way up unda da deck so she wudn be tempted to take a stick ta me.

When she left I ran up stairs an turnt on da guest computer so I could let y’all know if sumthin happen ta me an y’all don’t get no mo blogs, it’s cos Mam T done took me to da hunter man an sold me ta slavery.

But she didn. She just don’t leave no food out no mo an I’m hungry all da time now so I need y’all ta send me some food. An I ain’t talkin bout no dog food. I got enuf kibbles and treats to last ta next yea. I want some poke chops (I miss me some chops. I used ta eat dem all da time when we walked in da projects back in Henrico.)

Mama T: Those were not projects. They were townhomes.

For real? You mean people own dem apartments? Damn, black peoples sho know how ta tear up some stuff, don’t dey? Chris Rock was so right; he ain’t nevah lied. No wonda white people move when y’all come in da neighborhood.

Well, I used to eat good when we walked in da townhome projects. I used to eat chicken fa days, black-eyed peas, rice, cornbread, honey buns, spaghetti o’s, hamburgers, pig tails, ham hocks, mac n cheese, an Little Debbie’s snacks.

Mama T: Donna, focus.

Drool . . . Dat’s some good eatin an I’m gettin honegry just thinkin bout it. So, when y’all send me food, send me some good stuff, the kind dat stick to yo bones. An write dis on da box: “Dis box is for Prima Donna Williams. If anybody otha than Donna open it, you gonna be cursed and loose da rest of yo eyebrows.”

Mama T say she’on believe in no curse, but when people tell her they’on believe in God, she say, “Just cos you don’t believe in Him don’t mean He don’t exist.” I say, just cos she don’t believe in no curse don’t mean it won’t happen. Just because I’on believe OJ did it don’t mean he didn’t. An just because I’on think fat meat is greasy, don’t mean it ain’t. An just because . . .

Mama T: Donna, I think they get the point.

Well, just because you think they get da point don’t mean they do. Anyway, Mama T already be complaining cos her eyebrows stop at the middle of her eyes an she ain’t got one stitch of hair beyond dat point. So, I think dis might be da curse ta get her ta leave my stuff alone. Now, all y’all dat be prayin for us, please don’t try an send Mama T no curse. Y’all prayers ain’t avail mucha nuthin an if y’all try an curse Mama T she libel to fool aroun an grow some hair on her eyebrows for da first time in her life. An y’alla have her walkin roun here actin like she an AKA an not a Zeta, thinkin she Sanaa Latham bringing sexy back. Uhn uhn . . . y’all just work in y’all prayin an leave day cursin to da heathens.

Y’all can hit me up on my email (prima.donna.williams@gmail.com) an let me know when I can spect my food. An please hurry. I’m already startin ta sag unda my chin an roun my belly from da fat dat I done lost. I’on wanna lose my junk in da trunk  too.

Later alligators,
Donna.