The big secret in life is that there is no big secret.  Whatever your goal, you can get there if you’re willing to work. –Oprah Winfrey

What a crock of sh*t.

You know what else is a crock of sh*t? A ceramic pot,  filled generously with prodigal bales of human excrement. Which I’d assume is the derivation of that phrase. Which is gross. Because it implies that at some point in colonial history, there lived a Crock-of-sh*tter and a Crock-of-sh*ttee. And in all of his repugnant trickery, the Sh*tter convinced a starved Sh*ttee to eat a bowl of what he said was “Brown Bison Chilli.”  The Sh*ttee eagerly tasted from the pot, and upon first spoonful he belted,  “BLECH! This is not delicious Brown Bison Chilli at all! THIS IS A CROCK OF SH*T! I have fallen for your flimflammery once again!” And thus, birthed the phrase, “Crock of sh*t.”  The Sh*tter was probably French. The French are disgusting. I hate the French.

And while that itself may be a crock of sh*t, there’s still no crock sh*ttier than that sh*t crock of a statement Oprah just said.

And thats why Harpo beat her.

See, here’s my plight…. This isn’t my first blog. I’ve been writing blogs for quite some time now. Truth be told, Im pretty good at it. I mean, not to toot it my own boot it, but sometimes, I’ll write a blog so irreverently opposite of terrible, that I’ll immediately run downstairs, stick my entire desktop to the refrigerator with a blue ribbon magnet that reads 1st place for  “Got damn, n*gga! Datshitcray!” and just stand by it…smiling. All. Damn. Day.

That boy good.

Problem is…I still cant manage to garner a reading audience large enough to make other bloggers jealous of the number of facebook likes I get. But alas, isn’t short for Alaska. My shortcomings in the reader department are nobody’s fault but my own. I’ve been reading and researching you other bloggers who blog on your successful  blogs, and realized why your blog is so much more successful than mine…

read more »

Man, Im so glad we made it passed that whole “getting to know you” stage. That was awkward, huh? Palms sweaty. Knuckles ashy. You staring at me. Me staring at you…trying not to get caught staring at other readers…booty’s. *whew* Glad thats over. Now I feel like I can really share with you. Because sharing is caring. And caring is contagious. Much like the stanky leg. Anyway, before we go any further, I think its important that you know this…Im black y’all.

I’m black y’all.

I’m blackitty black and I’m black y’all.

read more »

Friends, Romans, Crackas…Crenshaw! It. Is. Time! Let us now pop bottles and commence the champagneonnabitch pouring. Why? Cause we didnt land on Plymouth Rock…Plymouth Rock jumped on Reruns back and followed the Whats Happenin’ truck all the way here and landed on us! Where’s here? BOKTOWN, MOTHAF#@&A! Soulclap.

My sincerest apologies if I may have offended any with that superfluous obscenity. I dont really talk like that. I’m just excited. And youre excited too. You know what happens when two grown people get excited?

Blog sex.

Oh yeah. Somebody gon get pregnant tonight. read more »