someone fucking date me this isn’t funny anymore
Anonyme a demandé: Why do black people only hang with black people?
c’mere! shhhhhhhh. i’m only telling you, white anon. don’t tell anyone else because i’ll get in trouble.
black people only hang out with black people because it’s in the black bylaws. In the ThreeM Constitution (Malcolm, Martin, Marvin) signed by the three leaders in the back of the Apollo theatre with old fried chicken bones sharpened and dipped in the ink from the oil of mother Africa, we black people pledged to stick together and declare a silent war against the whites.
you see, black people only hang with black people because we are heading back and forth to our all black meetings where we plan our attacks. yes, attacks. once a week, a Nigga Nation (a cluster of black folk, usually between 20-25 persons) are required by Black Law to decimate at least ten whites persons over the age of 18. We kidnap most of them and send them back where they came from (usually Sweden) and threaten to murk their families if they ever return on Black American soil.
that’s as much as i can tell you for now without compromising our next hit. the only way to fend off these attacks are to promise you’ll never use the ‘n word’, you’ll never twerk or use the word ‘twerk’ again, and swear allegiance to our overlord, Oprah Winfrey.
i can only hope and pray this keeps you safe for awhile longer, white anon.
the friend with a couple of benefits
his conversational skills, we text frequently is lowkey furious bc I told him i kinda miss my ex rather than say yes I’d be glad if he were here.
smidgetz a demandé: give me the strength to finish my weave
lord we gather here today in the wig crypt to ask that you please lay your hand on this child’s head lord. lord please bless her fingers and ease the cramp within them lord jesus father god come down and hold your child as she goes through this precarious process lord we receive you. we implore you lord to touch her closure and lay it with the power of a thousand destiny child live in atlanta dvds. god of moses, god of abraham, god of naomi cambell we ask that you anoint tumblr user smidgetz with the strength to complete her weave. may it blend flawlessly oh father god, may her edges remain resplendent father jehovah, god we know we come to you with bellies empty and hands open but we ask that you bless us, that you bless her, that you bless the bitches whose faces will be slapped when she swings that weave god. forever your humble servant in your son jesus name we pray amen and amen.
One time I wrote a list of the Reasons Why I Love You in red ink on white receipt paper and I was going to give it to you but then we drank vodka and ate maraschino cherries on your kitchen floor and you told me something about timing and I recited one of my poems in hopes that you’d think I was deep and stop asking me why why why are you so sad.
One time you told me you loved girls who always smiled so I stitched my lips into a grin and as I sat there bleeding on the kitchen floor I wrote with red ink on dirty tile a list of the Reasons Why Things Happen in hopes that you’d come back and take it back and take me back and clean up all the broken glass.
Why why why I’m so sad is because instead of filling myself up I fill you up and it leaves me dry and angry and cracked on your kitchen floor with maraschino cherry juice running sticky down my fingers and there’s not enough ink in the world to say what I need to say.