Little Pills Poppin’, IQs Droppin’

I am wide up. It is like four thirty in the morning. I want to go to sleep, I’m tired, I feel the beginnings of one of those headaches you get when you break night and I’m worried because I took a Trazadone and I’m STILL up two hours later.

Tomorrow I’m going to kick it with my girl Vicky. Her shit is wrapped very, very, very loosely so she gets pills. In one of the dreams I have when I sleepwalk during the day, she told me before to make a shopping list of what I wanted and she’d get it for me. I want to try concerta. This is to lose weight of course because learn this about me, I will do anything to lose weight.

That being the case why haven’t I lost a pound through anything but exercise?
Because my body is evil and its trying to destroy me. Its like this: I see some must-have pills that promise you will be skinny in five days. I’m hype. I take that shit the first day, the second day, the third day. The fourth day, if I so much as think about some pills my heart starts beating mad hard till its painful, my right elbow aches and feels heavy and I swear I feel the ulcer forming on my kidney. My body is very self-protective.

The only pills that ever worked for me were some I got from my cousin Florence right after I had my 2nd son and I only took them for two weeks before shit hit the fan. Phen Fen was beautiful. Magic. Lovely. And awesome. I  used to take only the orange ones (at least I think they were orange), (the ones that had the magic and therefore had to be fucked with because nothing gold can stay). I’d take one and word to mother, forget to eat for days. They had to go and take that shit off the market?

The cold finally broke so I am going to start jogging again with the goal of building up to running. I was doing hip hop abs with Sean T until my wack ass tv and bogus ass dvd player connived up some shit. I think the cord connecting them was in on it too. And if  it wasn’t, it still knows what happened.

I love Hip Hop Abs. And Shawn T. I wish I knew that dude so bad. I would be at his house practicing dance routines with him all morning, then we would go shop and have lunch, then we’d go get ourselves pampered at a topnotch spa while we had a brief, very very brief conversation about our problems. The convo would go like this:

Me: “Damn so many men want me, I just don’t know who to chose.”

Him: “O M G bitch, did you just say that or did I just say that? Me too!”

Me: “I said that Shawn T, just now when I was talking and you weren’t.”

Him: “Uh uh Missthing, just cause you maaaaaaaaaaad beautiful and your voluptuous yet lean body is perfect and you stay Gucci down to the soles of your flip flops and you have a ranch in Albuquerque, a villa in Key West, a compound in Brooklyn, several succesful businesses, a charitable foundation that really helps people, a warm loving family and 59 grandkids and you drive a smoke gray custom fully kitted BMW 760Li and your astrology book is the best selling astrology book ever does not mean you don’t have to come correct. You know how I stay. ”

Me: “Everything you just said is soooo true! I don’t know why I keep spazzing on you. Shawn T, you’re my best friend.”

Him: “Bitch you is very crazy. Now, this next move is called the Fly Boy Skip. We gon’ take this jumrope…”
And that would be like our make-up sex. Everytime we have one of our little tiffs, he would teach me a new unreleased move from Hip Hop Abs Hardcore: Extreme Pelvic Burn (Is that catchy or what? Don’t use it or I’ll sue your ass.)

My middle daughter just came in here and got in the bed with me and the baby. She is lying diagonal across the bed and her feet are on me, which BLOWS. I’m about to put my two feet on her butt and push her to the other side of the bed. Everybody in this house sleeps like they’re giving God the glory. Everybody in this house except possibly the baby could take  up a whole king sized bed when they lay up.

I moved her over and the baby stretched out like a cat and took my place.


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