Disclaimer.

Yes, Another Disclaimer

How to read what I write: what is it anyway?

I will make this short. I hope you are tired of reading my work because you really have other activities you need to take care of but every time I post something you simply have to take it in, right? Shh!

Basically, if you follow this simple rule you will get the most out of my writing. Hopefully, you already get something, but this should help you soak up even more. 

Sometimes, most times, occasionally, and always without any exceptions except for Fridays, the second and sixth Thursday of every other month if you start your year with June like I do, or the first and fourths Monday that comes right before Thanksgiving, but not if it is an odd numbered leap year. Also, depending on the stage of the moon and if the summer solstice falls on a Wednessday then ignore this, and don't if it doesn't after you flip two coins nine times and the outcome is heads-tails, tails-tails, tails-heads, heads-tails, heads- heads, tails- heads, heads- heads, heads- heads, tails-heads, of course. Rarely, on some business days before 9am and after 5pm during daylight savings time (Arizona please ignore and go fuck yourself) there can, and will be the opposite of what I am about to state according to the Farmer's Almanac but only if you translate it into Italian as spoken by a Scottish girl with Italian parents (haggis marinara anyone?).

That being said, read everything as if it is fiction. Everything here is fiction.

Everything here is fiction.

psst. This is not real. This never happened. I am making this up and I am not even me. Just a happy black woman in her seventies. My favorite food is Goulash. My foot size is 41/2 unless there is a storm coming, or if I am in elevation higher than 7,000ft. I was raised in Lebanon, wait for it, Tennessee. Every year on my birthday,  April 7 from 6am to 10:37pm, I play AC/DC's Hells Bells on my Oboe for my 498 grandchildren. I was married 56 times, and my vagina has the capacity of an industrial washing machine and has been used as such twice this year.

But sometimes...

Yep. I am a 900-year-old time traveler who is trying to figure out what the hell is so special about her--girlfriendish thing.

He is an idiot, but he is my idiot. You can think of me as the Obi Wan, of this blog, but I don't die. Well, okay. Yeah. I know, but you know what, You fucking know what I mean too. Stop it. Because I am not the Yoda of this blog. I don't know because I am not green? Good enough for you?

get it yet?

RECAP:

In order to fully get the meaning of the contents of this blog one should read all entries as if they are purely fictional. That way the reader will not forget about literary techniques. There is a whole lotta metaphor up in here, bitches. And allusion up the ass, yep my NWord!! 

Wait!What did you say, young man?   

Momma, I'm sorry, I just--hey no stop not the um a ah no quit I did not mean it I take it back--bitch stop hitting me! I am gonna drop kick that plastic hip across the gym!

A shot rings out. Echoing through the empty high school. Then two more in rapid succession, followed my the words "and what? You said what? to who?", and the gun fell to the ground in the style of a mike drop, "who's  a bitch now? dumb little nigger calling his grandma a bitch. Come here kitty, where is your buddy at? Off with that trouble making ho he be wasting his time with? Nice young man but ain't he a fool? He ain't gonna make it to forty. Right Kitty?"
"Meow meow he is 900 meow"