2 August, 2011
I’ll take “’B****** Ain’t Shit But Hoes and Tricks’ for 400, Alex.”
Yoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. This this this this this right here. I’m going to crush a lot of dreams and coital aspirations in the next three to eight minutes, all depending on your reading level.
This blog is dedicated to the jersey chasing, limelight soaking, self-inflated floozies who consume themselves with thoughts of sidelined stardom that are solely unattainable. Broads, please. Stop it. Take the blue pill and come back to reality.
In this star-driven society we live in, women seem to have around one to four of these social icons in their minds who will always have the key to the box left under the doormat for them. Do they know them in real life? Nah, not at all. They just wake up every morning to his latest mixtape or appreciate his free throw percentage… That’s all that’s needed. As to why this occurs? Women are attracted to men with power. Understandable, but you’re the basic-est of broads if you obsess over a celebrity’s image which may not even reflect their true self. Furthermore, ladies, if you’ve claimed a celebrity who has no idea of your existence as your “boo”, your “man” or anything of the sort, please allow yourself to grasp the fact that you own a BlackBerry vagina in an iPhone and Android world.
Girls who fictitiously claim these well sought after men as their own have birth canals filled with whispers of “you can do better” and “he’ll notice you one day”.
Remember the 2009 NFL season — the one which ended with the Saints beating Indianapolis in the Super Bowl? I can’t recall there ever being more sudden female thirst for another athlete than there was for Reggie Bush. This was back when he was knocking down Kim K, shaking and baking dudes on the field and doing ‘Got Milk?’ advertisements with his shirt off. Seemed like EVERY chick that wasn’t a Colts “fan” was salivating over Reginald.
But that’s just scraping the surface of these somber, lonely box truths.
Somewhere on Twitter right now there is a chick at the Lonely Expressway and Thirsty Turnpike interchange telling Trey Songz how much she loves him. Just type in “Trey Songz” on twitter search. I bet you find Sahara Desert type thirst.
America is 14 trillion dollars in debt and chicks are still out here hoping Robert Pattinson will materialize in their bedroom to watch them sleep and count their eyelashes. The hell is wrong with you hoes?
Men don’t have this issue. Sure, we look at celebrities and all that, but really we’d just like to bang ’em out because they look good. The only men who obsess over celebrities are on sexual predator watch lists and ate pencil erasers in elementary school.
But I’m out though. It’s been fun as usual. I’m going back to my insomnia, writing more video concepts, and not answering text messages from the girls I write about.
Be safe, stay good.
-SG
P.S. If she follows a celebrity’s unofficial fan page on twitter, she will cheat on you with a look-a-like.
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CULTIVATED INFLUENCE 
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