I have never watched more than 20 minutes of a football game. Was never too crazy of what seemed like some heavy-handed homoeroticism. I love watching men makeout, but something about ball-pinchingly-tight uniformed men flopping on top of each other, just never really did it for me.
Until yesterday!
I wanted to be somebody’s freaking jock strap. Who would’ve thought locs would look so delectable under a helmet. Shoot, can I get tackled? Sign me up for a scrimmage!
Dear Nutella,
I know last night wasn’t new – another strike for me, another score for you – but these gooey palatable sins have got to swallow themselves into nonexistence, because quite frankly, my thighs can’t handle it anymore. Yes, we can agree that I sought you out, undressed you with my eyes, whatever. But you seduced me. And how could I resist. That dark sticky hazelnut skin, those creamy saccharine globs of brown. Goddamn. I would spread your triple thick chocolateyness all over my lips, morning, noon and night if could. But I can’t. The gym is far, and well, you’re just not worth the trip. I’d ask for one last taste, but we both know where that would lead. So it’s best we stop now. Forgive me.
Sincerely,
trace
Okay, maybe it’s not so much Beyonce as it is Sasha. But either way “Diva” is bloated with lines of pander I just can’t bear to swallow. All the elements of Sasha’s usual recipe for female empowerment are there: a glaze of androgynous attitude, spurts of shameless ‘I’m that chick’ plugs and of course a friday night groove. Only thing is this time I’ve been fed too much. The rehashed cliches are strikingly substandard from the Fierce I used to know, and as a friend of mine said, “this is her lowest common denominator shit ever”. Word. I mean heavy rotation works for this song, but such was the same for “Sexy Can I”. And we all know that hit was sugared in shit.
I’ll keep it so real with you, a singing kid annoys me. And after some short personal analysis, I think it’s because I forever pulped any epiphany suggesting that I in fact couldn’t sing. See my ears started getting these crazy ideas back in the early 2000s that my vocal chords had somehow become the strongest part of my body. I blame this all on Britney Spears, whose lucky saccharine harmonies had me thinking i could belt out national anthems on malnutritioned lungs. Bitch. So mini Whitneys, pint sized Aguileras…yeah they don’t do it for me. I envy children who can outgame adults, especially when it comes to their lifelong dreams.
Now dancing. That’s my sport. Shorty up top can have all of Sesame Street hollering her name, but I’m not phased…Oh god, I just realized I’m talking smack about a fifth grader in a pink skirt. Sigh. Britney, this is all your fault.
Good lord it’s been a minute. I guess to keep things real, yet under-detailed – I needed a timeout. Why? To learn how to be selfish. I went through some things, cried through some things, screamed through some things, and ultimately learned how to get over some things. But I’ll leave that all with her, Alluress. Sometimes a blog, sometimes a journal entry, more so a frustrated piece of paper left crumbled in the corner. What can I say, she needed her privacy. And more so needed to come back to Earth instead of just buzzing around in space. I know this sounds like a nostalgic Sasha Fierce speaking, but nonetheless it’s the truth. However, the aphorism says: “distance makes the heart grow fonder” and shit am I ready to blog on TinS again. Ready to dump hot sauce all over normal social commentary and mush it right into your face. Yum. Don’t test me.
So I’m back my beauties and ready to prove it. Still charmingly weird. Still oddly nubile. And still…trace. So get with it or get lost.
oh!! and what do you think of the new layout?? i paid fucking $15 just to adjust the html on this bitch. so strain the negatives out yo mouth!
ahh, it’s good to be home.
im coming back. i promise. there’s reason as to why ive been nonexistent, but 3:01 am is not the time to do it. but i can’t treat you the way britney, the clipse, and michael have done me in the past…those bitches took my fanmanship (a word?) for granted. but we’re not gonna play that here at TinS. NOPE.
09 revamp coming pronto.
09 meaning third week of january.
pronto meaning !
revamp meaning stunna status.
i love you. i do.
see you soon!!!!!
[!] title via cajus
lmfao
I love safe sex, but text sex just gets on my nerves. Especially when a man is bold enough to undress you with his keypad, but too demure to unbutton your cardigan. The twins don’t know how to text!! Live demos ONLY!
