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Laid-out by nOva
© 2003-2005 QUEENSEXY.NET
Posted, Bitches! 06.30.04
08:58 PM • 10 comment(s)permalink

I've been forced by the Blog Patrol to update my shit just cause I got a new hot ass (not fiyah, but hot) layout, eventhough I aint got shit to say.

I'd rather go fiddle with my clitoris.

I'm not okay. Please don't call/email/send smoke signal asking if I'm okay. I'm not. I'm far from okay. My shit is fucking up in the worst way and I don't forsee a way out of this. It's stressing me to the point where I'm apt to burst into tears at any moment. I'm living grimey. Some days I eat, some days I don't. As long as the kids are fed, everything should be straight. I got change in my pocket attempting to offset the lint.Elmo isn't even appealing to me at the moment and ya'll know how I luh me some Elmo. I think we irritated each other the other day, and he don't like having his imperfections pointed out. He's a cutie, don't understand his issue(s).

As much as I hate working at Yankee Candle, I LUH the hell outta some candles. Votives have always been my favorite. I can't get with those big ass jars. I'm supposed to be there to make money, not spend it.

My daughter had a big suprise for me when I came home...she cleaned the house, complete with washing the dishes. I'm so pleased. Guess she's trynna make up for her fuckery this week.

•   •   •
Insert Dick Here 06.27.04
10:23 AM • 11 comment(s)permalink

My quest for a suitable penis is futile. These guys suck and not in a good way. Shy Guy is out. Gone. Over. Done with. Why? Cause 1). He's boring as fuck. 2). He's boring as fuck and 3). I expresed much displeasure with his surprise visit. He don't know me like that.

Couple days ago I met MourkAssBusta (MAB). Immediately after I gave him my number, I decided I didn't like him. I'm bout to splain why. This nigga old (35) and was asking way too many questions bout Baby Daddies 1 & 2. I mean nigga damn, are you trynna know me or do you wanna get wit wunna them niggas? He should've let me know cause I can hook him up with wunna they weak asses. Niggas that try to check my finances off the break have volunteered to get punched in the throat. Mind your fuckin business. I'm not chasing a nigga for his money and damn if he's getting any of mine. This nigga prolly on some work release type shit anyway.

Elmo doesn't count cause he's a good christian virgin. With a lot of ass. (the virgin part has yet to be confirmed. since i spoke it, consider it gospel.)

Last nite's pickings were slim. One one side of the train was Lesbianca and on the other was Jigaboo. Just because I look like a big burly lesbian, don't mean I'm actually in practice. Really. Have yet to really find out what's so appealing bout me to the Lesbiancas. Could possibly be my permanent scowl. Makes a bitch all moist.

Men that are morbidly larger than my self frightnen me. I mean the kinda dude that gets on the train and can't stand up straight cause he's too damn big and takes up an entire seat cause, well, he's too damn big. Them niggas frighten me. Jigaboo was all of the above. He was blacker than a muhfukka too. I don't mean the sexy kinda black. I mean the clutch your purse, grab your shank kinda black. *sigh* I shall remain dickless.

•   •   •
Fat Girl Envy 06.23.04
12:05 AM • 12 comment(s)permalink

Fat bitches, lend me your ears. I'm gettin tired of ya'll mean muggin me like I ate the last pack of Twinkies. Bein a flyy ass fat girl is some hard work. I unnerstan your struggle....goin out of your way trynna find shit that fits well, and more often that not it's expensive. Gotta keep the hair, nails (including toes) and eyebrows intact...gotta keep the attitude smoove...but I'm tired of ya'll. I'm tired of ya'll givin me the ice grill when you think I aint looking. Don't clutch your man. Don't whisper to your crew when I walk by. It's undeniable that I'm the shit. Deal with it.

Had lunch with the Mrs. today. Ruby Tuesday is on some different shit. These Atkins dieters are ruining my dining experience. Everything on the fuckin menu is low carb. Can a bitch get a regular meal? Man, we had to order way too much food to get full. We started off with quesadillas, which we sent back cause they were low carb. Actually, the Mrs. had them all in a tizzy bout the low carb quesadillas. Next came our chicken alfredo (or whatever that shit was) and burger and fries. They brought me my damn fries in a gravy boat. Oh yeth the hell they did. Gravy. Boat. That damn thing only had a handful of fries in it and my burger was flat. A bitch was still hongry. I order another gravy boat of fries (which they didn't charge me for) and still wasn't full. Instead of a traditional dessert, like ice cream or pie, we had BBQ chicken tenders. They was the bomb and some stuff.

The waitron staff was completely ghetto. Our waitress, Margarita was fresh off the boat and acted like she could barely speak ingles. I got ti-red of spea-king to her like she needed to be hooked on pho-nics. I unnerstan a nigga trynna get out the hood and all, but Tron was way too hood for my lunch time outing. No, I didn't "ruff off" the ketchup, whoadie. Gaaaaah. Youown say no shit like that to a cussoma.

The Mrs. informed me that some of the things I say aren't very nice. So the fuck what? What's so bad about saying Sadaam looks like he got lice? That nigga DO look like he got lice. All kindsa ticks and crawlies living in that beard of his. Juss nassy.

Why are bad words so much fun? I like to cuss. A whole fucking lot, I like to cuss. Bad words are real cool. I think I cuss too much. I'm wondering if my crass, abrasive attitude is scaring all the guys away. Bitch ass niggas.

•   •   •
Jeepers Creepers 06.21.04
04:35 PM • 5 comment(s)permalink

Note: Let's give a shout out to Prime Bear for fixin my blog. It was having some serious technical issuses and he saved it! **doing running man**

Saturday, I took my daughter to Jeepers for her befday. I wasn't looking forward to spending this money, but it's her special day so I basically had no choice. I went the Greenbelt, MD location; we'd never been there before (we usually go to Rockville, MD) and didn't know what to expect. Ya'll this place was straight up G H E T T O. It looked hood, smelled hood and was right in the middle of the hood. We came in right at 3 and our Party Pro, Shaquandraneesha, wasn't even at the front to greet us. Her co-workers were there and they called her on a walkie-talkie looking device as they stood around and socialized, basically looking lazy and shiftless as fuck. After I gave a chick the gas face, she decides it would be a good idea to lead us to our table. I thought so.

Shaquandraneesha (her name was actually Kiesha, but she looks more like Shaquandraneesha) sauntered over and introduced herself. I immediately didn't like this girl cause she was as lazy as all the rest. I'm sure we weren't her first party but she was real unorganized. I did most of the work myself and she wasn't even fun. EH. I don't want to go back to that one again, but the kids love it.

Had another session wiff Elmo....ah...sweet, sweet Elmo. Did I tell ya'll that nigga crazy? As I'm descending the Stairway of Doom he snaps me...with my own damn towel! I certainly didn't see that one coming. At least it wasn't a wet towel. Friday he had the nerve to call me...Sybil. Wait till he sees the rest of the personalities lurking within.

I'mma need for that nigga to stop standing so close to me. I know, I know, he posed to make sure I don't hurt myself and whatnot, but the heat from his crotch (could be my own lusty imagination) is starting to distract a susta. I'm trynna ride out this whole self imposed ceilbacy thing, but somebody bout to get fucked. For real.

I may get my own space soon. I'm a big girl now and I can hold down my own site (and get from under the reign of nOvaPain). may be in the works....stay tuned.

•   •   •
I Did It...Sorta 06.12.04
07:24 PM • 10 comment(s)1 trackback(s)permalink

I took off work Friday cause they closed schools on account of that dead ass Reagan. I don't give a fuck bout his old wrinkled ass kickin the bucket. He aint done shit for me.

Anyhoo, I tells Elmo I want to come in earlier than my 11 AM time. All he had open was a 10 AM so I took it. I come in and peek in the Torture Room to see whurr he was. I see him in there with a woman that he normally works out with in the 10 AM time slot, so I'm thinkin this nigga over booked. I take my time coming out of the locker room, thinking I'm still scheduled for my regular time. Come to find out he'd been waiting and I got bitched out for being late. Again. He'll be aiite. I paid for that damn hour and if I want to come in that bitch 11:55 I will. Dammit.

Entering the Torture Room, he notices I have a folded paper in my hand. Of course he takes it out of my hand and assumes it's for him. Well damn. Just cause it's in my hand and I just happen to be seeing you at that very moment don't mean I'm giving you shit. It was actually for him, (smart ass) a few posts from my site I thought he'd be interested in, such as, "Fat People Have Opinions Too" , "Life In The Hood" and "I Was Dreaming When I Wrote This; Forgive Me If It Goes Astray". Because I was too lazy to edit out the parts where I talk about my desire for him, I just let him gon' and read it. That was fun. Sort of. I could see him in the mirror laughing and smirking and pulling his shirt down over his ass when I mention how edible it is. Well shit, it IS...could bouce a quarter off that ass and make change....

Anyhoo, when he's all done and shit I'm waiting for some feedback from this nigga, wondering what he's really thinking...and he gives me a fuckin dissertation on my writing style. The FUCK? That is so not what I was looking for, and he knows it. Once you find out somebody is crushing on you, do you really let that shit ride? Hayle the fuck nawl. You get to the bottom of that shit real quick like. But naw, not his square ass. He did not acknowledge it at all. At all. He was thinking something; I could tell. He coulda gave me the real. I'd like to kick him in the knee caps for that shit.

I took the bitch way out. I shoulda told him straight up. I don't even feel good about it. I woulda told him what the deal was if he didn't get so flummoxed, discombobulated and bumfuzzled when I asked him bout his dating status. What's a girl to do? I'm loving it though. It's fun.

"This shit is chess, it ain't checkers!" Line from one of my favorite movies. Figure out where it came from.

Crowd Participation
Lemme get this out of the way before the MEME Police come knockin on my blog again.

1. Who are you?
2. Have we ever met?
3. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
4. Describe me in one word.
5. What reminds you of me?
6. If you could give me anything, what would it be?
7. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
8. Are you going to put this on your weblog and see what I say about you?
9. What do you love like a fat kid loves cake?
10. What makes you come back here?

Post your answers in the comments section.

•   •   •
Violence Is Every Where 06.10.04
01:46 PM • 5 comment(s)permalink

I'm irritated today and I'm bout to splain why. Couchman called me all upset this afternoon, moaning and bitching about something. I really should have been a (better) friend and listed to said whining, but I didn't feel like it. The bit I was able to catch made me mentally roll my eyes. He wants to buy a house just like the average American. Okay, no biggie. With disdain he informs me, "I don't plan to buy a house in DC." Biiiiiiitch! I could certainly give less than a fuck if he decided to buy a home on the hottest level of hell, respekt mah shit. After I got in his shit about it, (Couchman lived with me for about 8 months, hence the name couchman) he gave a weak ass explaination of kids being hit by random stray bullets not far from where I live. I found myself going down the same road I did with Boss Lady. Yes, the violence concerns me. No, I'm not scared; It's a part of city life. Just as my child can be shot in DC, he or she can be abducted in McLean, VA. We don't steal kids in the city. Why? Cause niggas already got kids they have to (or half ass) take care of. They don't wanna be bothered with that shit. Couchman has been whitewashed (more on that in a later post) to belive that living in the ass crack of Chezy Whitey and assimilating to an infinte degree is gonna guarantee security. The thought is enough to make me sick. As I've said before in previous posts: DC is where I'm gonna be. I like the city life and there's nothing anyone can do to change that. I do not have the desire to assimilate with the whites to gain acceptance.

While I'm ranting about muhfukkas who decide to challenge my living choices, let's talk about The Ex. He come callin last nite beggin and grovelin, basically trynna get back together. As I was tuning in and out of his annoying bullshit, I noticed he said something to the affect of..."Don't you want a better house?" You broke ass bastid, I have what I WANT for the moment. I didn't even go into the reasons for buying my house. I don't have to. Obviously it's something I wanted if i spent several thousand dollars to make the purchase. Isn't that sensical? I'm quickly loosing patience with niggas that think they can buy me. My pussy is not for sale. My integrity is not for sale. My soul is not for sale. I get what I want when I feel I need it. Plain and simple.

•   •   •
Sexy Asian Bitches 06.09.04
12:29 AM • 11 comment(s)permalink

That's what I is, according to a Google search. Someone was looking for "sexy asian bitches" and ended up here with me. Go figure.

**Attention Cancers** Imma need for ya'll to space your berfday's just a lil farther apart. This shit is really begining to conflict with my schedule. Thanks for your cooperation. I'm also grossly overbooked this Cancer season.

nOva: ok, you need to mark your calendar
nOva: Mike's b-day is June 27, Anfanee is June 23, I am July 1, and EJ and Michael-Christopher are on July 16th.
nOva: you sure you're gonna be able to give up all that ass to all of us?

I wasn't aware that I'm required to service the Cancers this year. I didn't receive the memo, draw a straw, nor did I play Paper-Rock-Scissors. I need more notice.

I had an interview for a secretarial position with the CIA yesterady. I think it went very well. The process for this is long. I mean damn long. My resume has already been reviewed by two different people, before I even got the letter last month, stating I have to take a series of test, which to my surprise, I scored very high on. I think it's very likely I'll be recommended for employment. After I receive a conditional appointment letter, I'll have to fill out a whole lotta forms, 17 total, one of which is 11 pages long. After I submit my life's story, they gon' start to investigate me, which should last about 21 days. They gonna talk to neighbors, co-workers, friends and even check my credit. Damn. Check. Mah. Credit. If I make it through all that, then I'll have to take a ploygrah, a medical exam and be evaluated by a psychiatrist. Next I'll receive an offical letter telling me when I can start. All that to type some fucking letters. I hope this is worth it. While this is a good opportunity to start a career in something other than boring admin, this shit is far from my house. I mean reeeeeaaaal far. I'm not looking forward to that commute. I'll even have to take an oath, swearing to protect the secrets of the CIA, which means, I'll have to become a professional liar. I am very excited though. It's a very overwhelming experience.

•   •   •
I Met A Boy 06.06.04
01:05 PM • 10 comment(s)permalink

For real. A straight one. I never meet straight boys, so this is a new thing for me. We met on the train the other nite when I was on my way from the PT job at SpankMe Candle. I was tiyud and the train was crowded. I got on at one end and had to walk all the way to the other to find a seat that wasn't surrounded by obnoxious adolecents. He turned sightly backward as I sat down. I didn't pay too much attention to it, cause frankly, I was too tired to care. Not interested in fighting with my piece 'o crap cd player, I pull out my copy of XXL (with Shyne on the cover) and get to reading. This cat turns back around and asks me what article I'm reading since he's well versed with this latest editon of XXL. I say something brief and covo just went from there. I'd love to have gone back to reading, but I didn't have the heart to shut him down. Him so cute.

I talk to him later on and find out that:

  • He's 25.

  • He lives at home


  • Wants to be a rapper

  • Has some signs of intelligence

  • He's a Libra
  • The latter I'm trynna forgive him for, unbalanced ass Libras. What piqued my interest in this young man is the fact that he likes history, ALL KINDS of history, just like I do. That's the first thing that got my brainwaves all excited. He also speaks in complete sentances and doesn't swear. How can he be a product of the projects? There's got to be a catch.

    I'm sure it makes no sense for me to even demand that a man has no kids. It's hypocritical even. Guess what.....iown eein give a fuck. I don't have the interest or desire to put up with some BabyMommaDrama. Broads be straight lunchin. I'd hate to haveta smack a bitch. The downside...he has no kids and wants to do that whole get married/have kids thing. EH. That's so not me. Iown want no more kids and damn if I want to get married.

    We all have complexes about ourselves. :( Not sure if I'm ready to deal with someone else and their issues. As far as I can tell, I think his are a superficial, ie, weight, height and whatnot. I think his selfconfidence is a low and he's also passive. PASSIVE. I have issues with a passive man. If you want me come get me, or a susta is gon' get bored and move on. Don't get it twisted. If a nigga pounces on me, he'll graciously get punched in the nutsack. But damn, let's be enthusiastic. This is my impression out of a 45 minute conversation. There's sure to be more in store.

    Here's a secret. C'mon, move in closer. **whisper** I'm afraid of relationships. I'm afraid to allow myself to become involved with anyone for a substantial period of time. I begin to feel squeemish when I think another functioning human is begining to depend on me for mental and emotional support. I just don't fare well with that kind of interaction.

    •   •   •
    Are You A Lesbian? 06.01.04
    10:50 AM • 15 comment(s)2 trackback(s)permalink

    I was this past weekend. Queen Sexy takes Gay Pride 2k4. Ain't that a trip? I'll give a day-by-day recap.

    I headed over to the Phish Tea Cafe (right down the street from my house) with Prime Rib and King Sexy, for a book release party for Mykel Christopher whose book is titled Livin the Life. It was a nicely coordinated event, complete with a reading from the book. Meeting Mykel was such a pleasure; what a gracious man he is.

    I had a very interesting encounter at the buffet table. I was minding my business, attempting to find a wing ding that wasn't too over cooked. A woman came up next to me so I shifted to the right a bit to make room for her. I looked up and she spoke. Being that I'm not rude all the time, I spoke back. While we're speaking, making idle chit chat, I maintain eye contact with her. That's the polite thing to do. She mistakes it for staring (which i actually was cause she had some hellified braces on her teeth) which I think may have turned her on a bit. She tells me she could stare at me all night. How did I become eye candy? She then proceeds to ask me if I'm a lesbian. Is it that obvious that I'm not? Am I required to know some secret code or handshake?

    I went to a talent show with MizLise after I finished slangin candles. It was hilarious! This one dude didn't have music and the po' chile doin Alicia Keys, complete with a keyboard, was just clowned. The drag queen doing Beyonce looked a hot ass mess, he shole made for an ugly woman. The drag queen doing Donna Summer's Let's Dance was the bomb and some stuff. S/he could saaaaang! That was an overall fun performance. The highlight of the evening was the very slim dude who chose to performe as Andre 3000. He put it down. I thorougly enjoyed that.

    I thought this would be a day of rest, but alas, it twas not to be. King Sexy called me bright and early to request my presence at the Convention Center, where Kelly Price would be performing. I called on the powers of Grayskull to get me up out of that bed. I screamed and hollered right along with the rest of the screamin heffas as Ms. Price gave up a poweful, yet short performance. I did walk around a bit to see what I could see and I saw a couple of trainers from the gym I go too. I'm not sure if they saw me, since I ducked and went the other way. I'd hate to be gossip for the Men's locker room.

    I was very surprised there were so many people interested in meeting me. We at are quite popular. One of the notables was Mr. Christopher David who is one fine chocolate man. Yes lawd!

    Of course my Baby Daddy was on hand to make a spectacle of me, as usual, complete with groping my breast, punching me in the ass as I was walking up the stairs and denying me a piece of his sammich. Actually I wasn't denied, I just couldn't get a piece until my own food arrived. Go figure.

    Being a lesbian is such hard work.

    •   •   •