Greasy Faced, But Here!

...and I'm back.
Not like I've been anywhere, just busy. Busy thinking about french fries, cakes, milkshakes, all the foods I can't eat-but I've lost a few pounds in my waist for ya. Well not you, and DEFINITELY not Ami James- just for me. Also, my clothes. Oh, my heart and health.
Anyways, a few things that have been on my mind...

- Pam Grier is my favorite! I mean she is the loveliness that represents my blog- okay, I lost weight to look more like PAM GRIER!! Though magic isn't something you can ingest. Hmmm. Anywho, I read her autobiography- Foxy- a great read. She is everything I imagined. Thoughtful, gutsy, funny and always in the right place in the right time. She's also a Gemini which proves how awesome she is- we tend to be friggin' delightful- well those of us who are me and Gem's I like. Some of us can be ass crazy and need to be slapped repeatedly.
Ms. Grier taught Fellini how to fry chicken! That's all.

- Okay, Ami- the boo in my head- is on my list. That list of dudes who go from 'I wanna bone ya' to "No breakfast, just leave after the bonin'". Ami started a clothing line. It is a clothing line for douchebags, asshats, peeps with minimum of 2 STD's, people with bad taste, assholes, etc. We all know my uterus has anointed him with the power to do as he wishes with my loins, but his line of thin v-necks and TRUCKER HATS- REALLY?! Fuckin' trucker hats??? I thought we were rid of them things that cover the nonexistent brains of the tool's and people who probably listen to Pitbull. Anyways, his clothing line makes me dry and my vag walls want to close in on themselves. Not a good look, boo.

- Love summer, sometimes. It's almost over and I'm not that sad. Not just because it'll mean this diet/cleanse is over and I won't have to have naughty fantasies about toast- it will be the beginnings of 'less greasy face'!!!! It's way past dewy. It is straight greasy. So...greasy...I almost want to lick my face...UGH, but that would be gross. Desperate and gross.

- Don't ever let me try to tell you I'm all hoird (hard). I mean I'll kick you swiftly in the ass if needed, but I am in no way stayin' strapped or rocking the boxcutter on the roof of my mouth.
There is a Bruno Mars song on my iPod. As Ghostface would say: that's as soft as Drake marinatin' in a bathtub full of lotion.

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