Have A Seat On The Davenport & Let Me Tell You A Stirr.

The Management Filed Under: Tags: ,

...or you can sit Indian style on the rug.

Once upon a time there was a scoundrel named Freshicca Sarah Parker. She was a scoundrel in many ways. Not only did she keep it real, like the young folks say, and crunk, like the niggas say, not only that... but she was funny. She sat at the cool kids table and most of the young girls and gays looked up to her. The male bloggers who posted about how they wanted they dick sucked by whimmints liked her, too, but they respected her because she could jones on them to teras. 

She once told a funny story. Its over there on the bookshelf:

There was this other scoundrel.... The Creator Behind Beyonceitis, who was a scoundrel with the vigor. He wasn't in with the crowds. He didn't parking lot pimp with the rest of them (Twitter). He didn't put his self out there like some hoes (I won't be messy). But he kept it real, like the young folks say. He would tell us about Beyonce and how we should respect her and abide by her rules until further notice. Beyonceitis brought the funny, the truth, and was the predecessor to EVERY FUCKING BODY and they momma on the Internet tryna be funny. Some of y'all, me at times, are just regurgitating shit he's said. When he said it, it was funny. When you say it, I pray for your social life. 

He told a story that you may find funny too. It's over there on my desk. I was just reading it the other night:

I don't know whether Fresh or Beyonceitis called Daniel "Julez" Smith II "Lil' Creole Pimp" first, during a time where he was known only as Baby Daniel. I don't know. I don't remember. I wasn't keeping count. I didn't know it'd be so important three to four years later. My bad! All I know is it was funny as fuck!

These two posts I linked you to exhibit some type of fuckery involving Baby Daniel being a hard up badass who sells drugs [vitamins] and owns a tazer. That pwns all that shit you knew before you read humor blogs. Yes, pwns. A month before that Beyonceitis post I linked you to, I started The Lil' Creole Pimp Chronicles.

It's a quick story that I know by heart, so I'll just tell it to you right quick:

It was a parody site in the same vein as Fake Janice Combs. I see you are already getting up to go see who the hell she is. Her story is right here:

You know how I say (tweet) Tee-Tee. You ever go "who the hell?" That's Beyonce. Uncle Joe? Jay-Z. Cousin Angie... if you didn't understand who Cousin Angie was please please please, I beg of you, unfollow me. Stupid is contagious in the springtime. And of course, Solange is "my mammy".

._. I'm not enthused either.

You get the picture. Now, here's what happened next. Solange found out I was using her babychile as a base for a fake, fictional, totally joking dude type thing but it didn't resonate well on the homefront. Solange called Beyonce, Michelle, and Angie and they brought that Chevy to a real slow creep but left Kizzy ass at home because she can't do shit right. Basically, at certain times Blogger wouldn't let me post. My Creole Pimp Gmail account would sometimes be suspended! My Photobucket account... unscathed.#kanyeshrug.

I slowly chilled out with the whole running gag of "I'm Solange's bratty, cussaholic, son and I hate that bitch". I didn't stop completely but... After reading one of her Okay Player posts about liking "some blogs OTHERS NOT SO MUCH" and seeing her act up on the news about Jay & Bey, I decided I didn't wanna fuck with her. I have this debilitating fear that she's gonna catch me in the Wal-Mart produce aisle, picking some greens for my momma and turn her buggy over on my ass. Matter fact, when I see a small, beige curly haired boy in Wal-Mart, I get scared. My 10 year old cousin's best friend looks JUST. LIKE. BABY. DANIEL. I think it's him. I'm scared of him. He HAS to be a sleeper agent.

But I digress.

So now you probably understand why Solange blocked me on Twitter. Or why Beyonce wrote Ring The Alarm. Or why Chris Brown hit Rih... no. No. Irrelevant. 


0 Responses to "Have A Seat On The Davenport & Let Me Tell You A Stirr."