::Lets play the Name...Game....::

Inspired by a recent trip to the park, where I ran across a woman named Pam, I thought to myself…how much of our names really define who we become in life?
For example.

Quintessential trailer park names.
::I always felt sorry for women named Pam. They all seem to have that hard living struggle face. All worn out and dried up by Marlboros and domestic violence. See Also: Carol. Loretta. Leann. Beth. Maggie.

Eats a Big Mac in a parking lot and washes it down with a Diet Coke names.
::Claire. Dorris. Donna. Shelby. Brenda. Lois. But mainly Nancy. I have never met anyone named Nancy that was less 345lbs. Anyone named Nancy looks like they can push Ford Explorers down pot-hole streets with one hand, and washes down Ham and Cheese sandwiches with a water bottle full of melted butter.

Will have sex with your boyfriend in the bathroom while you’re all out to dinner names:
::Ashley. Lindsay. Becca. Angel. Nikki. Tasha. Lexi. Anyone named after a car, or a liquor. Extra points if its spelled “intentionally” wrong.

Slashes their boyfriends tires, and then tries to slash you names:

::Denise. Chevon. Keisha. Marisol. Angelique. Priscilla.

Wear’s mens loafers and listens to K.D. Lang all day at work names:
::Roni. Paula. Joan. Marcy.

Comments

::Fathers, Harems and Brown Eyes::

Ahh Fathers Day. A day to honor the wonderful men in our lives. The ones who have passed on their great legacies unto us. Given us their last names. Provided us with a roof over our head and food on the table. The ones who have sent us to therapy for our "daddy" issues. sidenote: Hello unavailable, emotionally distant, workaholic men. Please thank my Dad for making me fall for you. lol My dad was very typical. Cold. Distant. Left all the "child raising" shit to my mother. So I find it strange that he's actually had a bigger influence on who I am than she has. I find myself physically and mentally more and more like him every day that I get older. I guess when you spend your whole life trying to chase after someone's love, you get to know then on a unique level. I remember me going through his bookshelf. Reading every single book he had. Going through and stealing all his old records. Reading his old newspaper articles from the Korean War. Looking through his...

::Death of Auto Tunes::

Dedicated to you... who thinks hip hop has gone too pop. And who hates Brooklyn. Hollla Back Neph.

:: Real Housewives of NJ. Aka, the poor man's Sopranos ::

I'm still laughing hysterically at the Real Housewives of New Jersey. I don't even know where to begin with this group of botox overdosed butter faces. Yeah I said it. Like Butta. Maybe I'm just uncomfortable that the short "juicy" (his wifes words not mine) husband literally pays for everything in cash. Hundreds. Crisp. Like fresh out of a suitcase left in Penn Station by someone named "Left Nut Louie". Or off the back of an unidentified white van, with NY plates. Or you know...maybe it could just be fresh out a regular ole' ATM machine. Maybe he just goes and deposits his checks like everyone else. Standing in line at TD Bank. Getting a free lollypop and biscuit for the dog. I dont know. Call me crazy but I just think this dude's money is a little toooooo crispy. It literally looks like he's holding his breath at all time. And can't put his arms down. It's actually painful to watch. You just wanna grab a safety pin and pop him. And ...

Dear Joe...

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