Whatever! It was a great weekend...

I went to Mrs. Fields Friday before work—she has a little cubby-hole in the wall on the first floor in the building where I count the money, and my fat ass loaded up on cookies. I ain’t never been to a Mrs. Field’s a day in my life but just because I had cash in my pocket I had to spend it. Eight cookies…ten dollars. And I told myself as I was paying, being over charged for them cookies, ain’t no batch of eight cookies worth no damn ten dollars esp when two of them greasy little suckers were supposedly free. But I passed Mrs. Fields her money and she handed me my expensive ass bag of cookies as I made sure to snatch ‘em from her trifling self. That is why I don’t carry cash.

RomiE and I joined Netflix… well he joined Netflix in hopes to educate me on all his favorite films. I, in turn, shall teach him the romanticism of musicals and “the classics”, which aren't really as "classic" as they are my favorites, plural, starting with my favorite, singular, which we already watched, A Lion in Winter and A Chorus Line, which is actually plural, two. He loved them. Both of them! And I believe my lesson begins somewhere next week with something like, Birdcage, which I hear is a staple of Gay Americana, and Paris is Buring, which I hear is a documentary of the Balls in New York. Yay me, huh?

I tried my hand at eating my man’s cakes the other evening while he was still half-sleep/half-woke…more sleep than awake. And though I’ve never been one for ass eating…ahem…though I’ve never eaten ass—the idea of burying my face in the crack of someone else’s hole has always rendered me intimidated, yet for some strange reason, the moon might’ve been full, I felt inspired, and was lead, lips pursed, to the crack of my brown baby’s bottom. Needless to say I’ve had bad ideas before…needless to say I’m full of bad ideas. Did I ever tell ya about that one time at band camp? ...Of course I didn't, bad idea. Therefore it is also needless to say what made that idea so bad is that one's natural reaction to an unwarranted ass invasion is first to clench, second, to cuss. Not such a smart move waking your man to ravage his ass. Inspiration nearly cost me my nose in the clenching. I guess I caught him by surprise. He growled at me unfavorably.

He sleeps pretty vivid anyway, my RomiE. Once, I had woken up early and was watching him dream (I’m such a cornball) because he’s so animated while he sleeps. It’s like watching a movie. There’s always whispering, and hand gestures, and laughing, and he’s always playing more than one character. So it just so happened I was watching him this particular morning and his mouth is going and his body’s twitching and suddenly, out of the blue, RomiE socks me in my jaw. BAM! He wakes up, I’m scrambling to find my face scattered across the floor and he’s all confused to what the hell happened cuz he just woke up. Turned out he was a cop in that dream, wrestling down the villain. I so happened to be in close proximity enough to be caught the actual villain. How quaint. I guess my jaw understands.

RomiE and I got to go to the movies this weekend and Kindrick and I went out to lunch. I even got to see my D-man at home, this weekend, and we caught up on all the latest Jennifer Hudson garble. Whatever! It was a great weekend.

As for the movie, V for Vendetta, which everyone should go see and read Mr. Brown’s review, we saw it on Saturday. I think D-man would enjoy this movie. Hell, I did.

So before you View me Void on this Visceral Vice, remember to Vouch and make Visible first your Voice, and Verbalize your mental Vomit. Never Vote against Vixens in Victoria’s secrets or Vandalize Vintage Volumes of Virgin Vaginas—for that, my friends, would be considered Vile!

Confused? Then you can call me V!