Cornbread. Enough said.

 

As long as it's moist  ;)

Fantastical Fantasia Fuckin'

While walking around Half Price Books a few days ago with some friends who also author this blog, I spotted this gem. Frenchy and I (you know who you are) were playing a lovely game called " what would you do if that was on his coffee table?" After an array of bizarre finds, for example a creepy book of Negro dolls (politically incorrect, but appropriate for the time period of the book), we found this righteous fantasia box set. It was of course immediately part of the game and my unwarranted response was "I WOULD LET THAT GUY DO ANYTHING HE WANTED TO ME."

I think this mainly stems from my belief that everyone likes at least one portion of fantasia. I literally sat mezmerised in front of that shit for most of my childhood. Especially the "dance of the hours" with the hippos and ostriches. Any dude could dance in my bed for hours by showing me his knowledge of Bach and Tchaikovsky. I would know him in the biblical sense till those annoying brooms with a mind of their own take over. I am a classy lady, and I would totally lick your nuts for Disney animation set to classical music. Guilty as charged.

That's some FRENCH-ASS FOOD, Yvonne.

Vive la France and vive le fucking fromage.

France and I get along really well.  You know any dudes who provide you with endless amounts of cheap wine, delicious cheese all over every delicious meal, and perfect crème brûlée ( yeah that's right I put the accents on there, suck mon French-speaking coq )??  I would be so lucky. 

That's why this post is devoted to the delectable cuisine of that beautiful country of croissants, the land of....legumes.... Okay I'm bad at this alliteration thing.  But I am NOT bad at eating, and that is why I love France so much and would bang it to kingdom come, all over a hot, steamy raclette.

OUI OUI.

...is what I will be shouting
all night long
while I take turns
munching cheese and licking chocolate
off some sexy garçon's sexy body.

WHAT THE FOREVER 21?!

I AM PO'

I'm so fucking poor, I can't even muster up the goddamn energy to say the last half of the fucking word. That's why I shop at Forever 21. Even though their clothes are about as durable as fucking Great Value tp, I go back week after week to purchase their overly trendy drivel because there is no fucking way I'm buying Walmart knock-offs by Miley Slutzilla Cyrus. I'd rather shove three bucks across the overly-glittered, fake marble checkout counter to the bisexual asshole in pleather harem pants at my local F21 (which buys me at least four owl necklaces and a feather cape). Still, every time that emo douche peers at me judgmentally past his curtain of greasy, black bangs, I can't help but feel like I am selling my goddamn soul.

That is why I would give you a solid handjob if you can get me a dress under twenty bucks. I would eat you till the world ends baby. And here is Britney Spears singing about it to prove to you I mean BUSINESS. Just replace any verb in the song with fuck and enjoy.