Vital Information: Bow Wow Wants Ciara

Lil' Creole Pimp Filed Under: Tags: , perform with him at Supafest in Australia.You know you remember that song they have together with the Super Mario melody. You know you remember that shit!

According to his actual Twitter, no Photoshop or nothing.

Bow Wow, read my font:


I accept that somewhere in the world (even Australia) you have fans that will claw their way through a life sized Taco Bell Quad Steak burrito, four times the marinated, juicy, succulent third degree burns and all to get to you, but are they tryna PAY to see you on that kinda level? Does your moms even go to your shows these days?

We'll let the tweets decide. They gotta be roasting you by now.

Yoga For Colored Folk

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According to, not many Keishas and Tamekas and Jalisas are down for the shalom namaste. Excuse me if that's incorrect, but like KeKe and Meka and LiLi, I don't know shit about yoga. I leave all that I am one with nature and fat trees need love too shit to Solange. I won't acknowledge her parental title on account of her Patra braids, but that's neither here nor there.

If you're like me and the only thing you know about yoga is what Wii Fit taught you, the clip below is just for you.

The Montana Fishburne can be interpreted to be a whole 'nother racehorse, but this blog is rated PG so nevermind all that. Notice how I slipped in like there was no six month absence? Get like me.

I Broke Twitter

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That's right. I broke Twitter. Twitter is missing something nowadays, isn't it? You think it don't you? Welp!!!! It wasn't shit to begin with.

Before we kick things off understand, this is not a sign that I shall be returning to the tweets. OR IS IT!? This is not a sign that I miss the tweets. OR IS IT!? This is not the final goodbye. OR IS IT!? This is not, I repeat, not me telling you I'm coming back. OR IS--- NO IT'S NOT!

To acknowledge all myths and theories, there was no one reason or action or event or person that made me wanna quit Twitter. To be honest, it was all of you and everything. As a whole, the side of the tweets we live on is now a big ol' pile of shit. It got messy. It got very territorial. It got very stake-claimy. Everybody wants to be the very best like no one every was. Truth of the matter is we're just ordinary people. We don't know which way to ho. (Yes, ho). It got very judgmental. I'm one of those people. I judge the shit outta people knowing I don't want to be judged. When I attempted to pull back and tried to be non-judgy I noticed how judgy we, me included, all were. Caution: The blogger you see here is a professional (SHIEEEET). Do not use the word "judgy" at home/in public, as it is not a real word. Twitter turned into a whole bunch of things that I don't really recall since I'm not facing them everyday anymore.

You may wonder why am I writing this? I'm not saying I owe this to anybody, but I'ma tell ya like a pimp... ION'T OWE YALL SHIT! But the abrupt manner in which I packed up and chunked the deuce was kinda... Shit I don't know.  Don't even make me lie. (If you find yourself thinking "This motherfucker is rambling!", I find myself replying "Ain't shit new". This is how I does.)

I just left because it felt right.

I wanted to leave at a time no one would notice right away. It was 2AM/3AM on a Thursday night. Y'all niggas were all somewhere getting pregnant. It was all good.

If you weren't paying attention like you claim you were, I had been at the point where I just didn't gibbapuck. Don't take that heart. You know I love you. A few of you. Very few. Almost none of you. You know this. You know I love you. I just stopped giving a fuck. I still don't. With the way things had gotten, I felt like it was time to hit the old dusty trail and head back to where I'd come from.

This is the part of the show where I acknowledge a few people and shit. Parents, your children should leave the room now. Princey, make Gordy leave the room.


Shug Avery. I never ever ever ever intended what went down between the two of us to happen. We have said what we said and that was that. If it coulda been squashed, it shoulda been squashed. It really should have. But that's crying over spilled Koolaid now, huh?

Drew Sidora. You fucked your career up. It was so promising. Here you are with the role many die for: A Wayans Bros movie. It basically set you up for greatness. You were THIS close to a Daytime Emmy at least and what you do? You play yourself. Figuratively but not really. That role on The Game. Deep sigh. NO ONE KNOWS YOU'RE A REAL PERSON! Up until the point you searched your name on Twitter and @replied whomever brought you up, they thought you were a  fictitious character. But since you and the character version of yourself you played have the same name, everyone thinks you basically played yourself. And if you think about, you played yourself. You play yourself and you played yourself.

Zindzi. Why do they call you Ye?

Ricky. I had some Church's recently. The peppers came in a cup. Not a bag.

Select NT affiliates. :hat.

Sherri Shephead. 8. That's what it looks like. Get on that.

Kyle. I always wanted to quizbowl you on College Hill. It felt tacky, though, so I never attempted.

New York. I'll never live there. Fuck what Alicia said. "There's nothing you can't do." And I won't attempt. NYC just ain't my type of hype. AND I SAID IT!

Lunchables. :hat.

Jori with regular hair. :shoe

Swaggerjackery. If I ever used a bit of slang you created, used your style, jocked your steelo, or took somethin' you said and ran with it.... Thank you.

Favorites. If you favorited something I said and find yourself upset that I deleted the account and you can't access said favorite, tough titty. If you can't quote it off the top, asbestos, it wasn't so near and dear now was it?


I'm done... Gordy may return now, Princey. It wasn't all that brutal. I just wanted to point out how you run Gordy.

A lot of you wonder if I'm gonna come back under a new name. I don't plan on it. I left Twitter to get away from Twitter. Coming back would defeat the purpose. Not saying I don't lurk. I just don't wanna be in the mix for lack of better words. It's 4 in the fuckin' morning. I'm tired, Ms Rain. We can finish this shit later.

Management out.

On Sundays We Jig To Pony

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You love her, don't you? Ain't she just the nipple on the titty? If her dancing don't tug at your heartstrings, then the shrine of photos in her mirror has to. It just has to!

If you do nothing else with your life, check out DANCING ALONE TO PONY. @kanYebreast did the Lord's work by linking me to it early this morning.