She got a bill and a face like a supermodel and her body built just like a coke bottle*

I have a confession to make. This isn't my first blog. I used to belong to this website called "MySpace" a long time ago. I joined because it made me feel popular and cool. And I couldn't stop the fever. When I had a new comment from a friend in my inbox a feeling of joy shot through my body. You like me, you really like me! I'm not gonna lie, it was tonz 'o fun while it lasted. I love spying on people from high school that I don't care about and obsessing. It's like US Weekly but with people you know in real life, or used to kind of sort of know.
I would even recognize people at parties that I only saw on MySpace and had never actually met in real life. It started to become creepy. And trust me, me and creepy are well acquainted friends, some would even say BFF but even this was too much for me. Everyone on MySpace looked like they were having more fun than me, too. With their pictures of them with all their real life friends and vacations and shit. I had to get out before I became a "lifer" or before I started to post pictures of myself with a fake tan posing sideways a la Paris Hilton with "my giiiiirls". But before I said "peace out 4eva", I must point out that I was voted funniest friend by my friends' boyfriend (mainly because in one of my "bulletins" I sent out I was asked "How do you feel about interracial couples?" to which I responded "I think they are interracialicious!" If Beyonce can coin the term bootylicious, I can coin interracialicious!) I left a lot of empty Top 8's with a blank void that used to be a link to my page. I still have friends telling me to rejoin the MySpace party but I resist! I resist.
It will be 9 months on January 15th since I have cancelled my account. It gets a little easier everyday. And besides, I hear that MySpace has become pretty obsolete now anyways.

So the following italicized entry was my first official blog ever. I wrote it in the fall of '05, right around the time my husband left me and took all my money but before he took my computer. MySpace didn't feel like home to me, but I like it here so I think I may stay awhile...

*This title has no relation what-so-ever to this entry. I just happened to be listening to that Frankie J. song on my way home from work tonight. But I do wonder, by having a body shaped like a coke bottle, is Mr. J referring to the original glass coke bottle or the modern plastic 20 oz. version? And if it is the plastic 20 oz. version does that mean he wants to screw his ladies head off to see if he won another coke or got the dreaded "sorry try again" message. OR does he want his lady to be built like a 2-liter? Because some people find that stocky, cylinder shaped body with a teeny tiny shrunken head look hot. Hey, I'm not judging. Just curious.

Life gives you hushpuppies...
when all you wanted was a goddamn notdog and some fries. But Main Street Coneys was closed so your ass had to settle for Taco Silver.This is my life in slow, painful motion, people. I started to feel pretty low as I stared at the dial of my gas tank while waiting in line at the drive-thru. I am going to be on empty soon. It would be pretty shitty if my car died here. My life and the stupid choices I had made began to flash before my eyes.
That time in 3rd grade when it was my week to be the "board washer". I was in the bathroom filling up the bucket with water. I had to pee so bad, so I hopped back and forth on either foot to try and subdue the urge to piss my pants. The bucket was filling up in slow motion. Too late. I felt the urine dribble down my thighs.
When I was 12 I shaved my legs for the first time. That night, I lie in bed feeling my legs, so pleased with the smooth silkiness. I reckon the first time you shave your legs is like the first time you try heroin. For the rest of your life your chasing the dragon for that perfect high-- well shave in my case. I should have never started.
Last year, on October 8th I married Burrito Man (I shall refer to my husband as this because he seems to have a penchant for being employed by mexican fast food joints). I was 23 and I thought I was making a good decision. Much like trying to hold my piss and shaving my legs I did not.
Now I sit here with a belly full of hushpuppies, not hungry anymore.