Now I don’t want to speak too soon but it really does seem as though summer in London is finally here. Yay 🙂 !! And as the temperatures rise there is only one thing that darkens those summer days for me and that is the funk-fest that is our public transport on a hot day.
Rush hour travel, especially on the Underground, is a special kind of personal hell to me in the summer; personal space is a myth as is personal hygiene for
some many! I’m particularly peturbed by those people who first thing in the morning, are on public transport, going to work or wherever smelling like the inside of a homeless persons shoe *dry wretches at the thought*
Not only do I not have time for this kind of assault on my nasal airways on a daily basis I really don’t even get how and why it still happens in this day and age?! I mean in an age of indoor bathrooms, washing machines and 48-hour deodorant *raises eyebrow* (that’s another post for another day!) how is it still possible to leave your house rocking major, built-in, I-can’t-believe-you-can’t-smell-yourself, pure unadulterated funk?!
Not only does this piss me off when I have to be the one pressed up against these odourous offenders I’m also confused as to why a loved one, a colleague, somebody, anybody (!) close to these people hasn’t told them, or at least dropped heavy enough hints for them to clean up their act, literally!! I know I would. Any friend that came around me smelling like Eau de wet dog with a top note of dried sweat would get a straightforward: sniff and a head shake before being asked to take it right back to the bathroom… Personal hygiene is not a damn lifestyle choice and this is not even about me being #bougie!
With the sun out and the Olympics set to begin in 2 days time the cramped oppresive regime that is my home – work – work – home commute is about to get a lot worse, and so I appeal to all you smellies, for the love of God and all things good, step up your bathe game. And to all you friends of the smellies, have a kind word because nobody, especially not me, has time for death by underarm on the Underground! In fact in the words of Miss Sweet Brown, aint nobody got time for that!!
I’m sorry, I don’t get it? What exactly is the meaning of this?? *straightens straight-laced skirt* Let me get this straight, is the Dream really singing about dating/wifing/sexing an aspiring cocaine addict/crack fiend? Or is this “Dope B*tch” he sings of an allegory of the actual drug he’s on when producing this crap he likes to call music??!
I don’t even know where to begin with that video, or Pusha T’s tired braids *sighs* I mean really???
Look ladies trust me, there are far better ways of earning a trip to Isabel Marant than hiding drugs in your bra… (And just when exactly would that ever be a good idea?)
I really can’t deal with the f*ckery that this “song” represents; I want to know who’s claiming this nonsense as part of their culture? You people are just letting the whole side down, that includes me, and for that I am NOT happy.
Mr Nash Sir, you are simply going to have to do better.
Pusha T, take a leaf out of your brothers book and start doing better.
*hopes no one in the office stumbles upon this crap and relates it to me and mine*
Ok, so this is the kind of ish that really earns me a bad rep. I mean I thought was amongst friends, people who know how I get down, what I do and don’t do, where I draw that line…
Let me get into this… Now I’m not saying I’m a label slave but I do have set standards, standards that I don’t really like to deviate from; and you know the thing about my friends is that they know me, or so thought!
Its Sunday, Sunday afternoon and I’m at a friends house for Sunday dinner. (Yumm!) She’s cooked, I bought dessert and we are waiting on another friend who’s bringing the drinks, the beverages, more specifically the wine.
Now I try not to drink too much on a Sunday and so I requested lemonade to make a spritzer mix with my wine (I don’t do Soda spritzers). I wasn’t expecting any handmade special ish, just some regular, RECOGNISED brand of lemonade. I would have settled for good ol’ 7Up, Sprite, R White’s….
Anyway the friend, MY friend, walks through the door carrying an absolute abomination wrapped inside a carrier bag of sacrilege. She walks in and sets to mixing me a white wine spritzer using, hold up, what is that? Best-In?? *pause* *blink*
WTSTA?? (Where They Sell That At??)
Best in what???
I never want to experience that trash again! Ever… *walks away real bougie like shaking my head*
Dinner was good though 🙂