Personal/Sidenote (Page 2)

It is my pleasure to announce that the baddest b*tch in the game, Snarky, will be blogging for POTP tomorrow. Not only will Snarky be back tomorrow, but she'll be blogging for 3 weeks straight while I vacay in mid-July to early August.

OMG, I luv her so much. Also, I was talking to Snarky earlier today and I didn't spend the night at home, but now I'm able to get into it. You'll be back to your regularly scheduled gossip very very soon.

Snarky's daughter Brooklyn is here, check out pictures of her gorgeousness by visiting Snarky's Myspace.

UPDATE: I don't know how I forgot this. Snarky will begin blogging for POTP a few days/ week beginning August. She's back, y'all. :)

WELCOME BACK, SNARKY!!!!!!

You know how we do things here at POTP. We take holidays off, and Memorial Day is no exception. So have a fun, safe, and sexy Memorial Day weekend!!!!!!! :) We'll be popping on Tuesday.

Thanks to all of you readers who keep me off the pole.

xoxo

Firecracker

I dunno where to begin with this one. First, I've really missed my personal/sidenote stories; I've just been so busy and I've had writer's block. Well, that blockage has gone away, at least for today, cause I met Nadya Suleman aka The Octomom on Saturday night.

I wish I had enough material to write paragraph upon paragraph about my encounter with Ms. Suleman - how she flung her kids around by their legs and yelled profanities at them - but I don't. Nadya was actually fairly attractive in person, thinner, with darker eyebrows and a booty for days! The woman is packin' junk in her badonkadonk.

I went to go see Obsessed on Saturday night and who did I see standing in front of me with five of her kids from her litter? It was none other than Ms. Nadya Suleman!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You kid me not.

My friend then told her that she looks great in person and Nadya took the time to stop walking and tell her "Oh, thank you so much. Thank you." The bitch is nice! Like, really nice. Everyone was gawking at her and her well-behaved kids and it took Nadya forever to buy them food for their movie. She had no one with her at all. It was just the octomom and her kiddos, out on the loose to go see some movie.

Now I did take some pics of her with my camera phone, and so did other people, but I don't think that any of them are worthy of posting.

Was I star struck? Was I mommy struck? Something about Nadya being out with her kids prevented me from saying anything to her; I just didn't feel right about it. Her children have been thrust into the media spotlight and they probably wish that things would have been different.

The moral of this story is: Nadya's got a big ass, but she's not an ass in person.

Meet some fierce POTP readers, Karl and Gina. This photo was taken while on vacay in Hawaii. Aren't they an adorable couple?!!!!! :)

Karl sent me the most wonderful emails ever this week. I actually cried - and I'm not even hormonal right now! I can not thank him enough. It is readers like Karl that motivate me to wake up in the morning, even if I only had a few hours of sleep, and update. I would be unemployed and on the street selling both of my cracks for 25 cents a piece if it weren't for each and every one of you.

Thank you to the infinite power - why does that sound like a math problem - for allowing me to have such a fun job. Every single day I am appreciative for the wonderful opportunity that you've given me - well, at least I'm grateful on Saturdays and Sundays when I don't update. :)

xoxo,

Firecracker

After I posted the following Tweet yesterday,

Tila Tequila decided to holla at me by posting the following message on her Twitter for all the world to see.

This week has been great. I've heard from two POTP readers who are amazing - Thanks Karl and Kerry! I interviewed Will Packer, producer of Beyonce's new movie Obsessed, (I'll post it on 4/24 - opening day) and I'm getting a hang of updating POTP while we're undergoing a site revamp. I work with the kindest people on the planet. They are unconditionally patient and I appreciate it mucho.

It's always especially rewarding to hear from anyone - whether it's Tila, a random reader or even a hater.

Team Tila!

Pop on the Pop's Twitter

Tila Tequila's Twitter

To put this post into context, I need to give a lil background info. I am a picky eater. I eat nothing that comes on a burger. Some of the foods and condiments that I don't eat include: tomatoes, ketchup, mustard, pickles, sour cream, avocado, eggs, and the list goes on. Because I don't eat many main ingredients and condiments, there is a whole lotta room for error when I order my food with English speakers. But, when I'm talking to someone who only knows English as a second language and speaks with a very thick accent, I tend to be out of luck.

On countless occasions, my food has been served with the specific item(s) I requested be removed. It has been frustrating enough to make me teary eyed. When you're starving and/or in a hurry and your order is served all janked up, it has been enough to send me into a belligerent, stink eye giving rage! Because, well, that's just how I be gangsta. Westsiiiide!

I remember this one time that I went to a McDonald's drive-thru. I was ordering food for myself and four others who weren't with me. I had to repeat my order about five times, no kidding, until the woman I gave my order to (abruptly and without warning) got off the microphone.

Suddenly, a man's voice asked if he could take my order. I asked 'What happened?' He said, "Oh, the woman you were talking to doesn't really speak English or understand it very well." I said, 'okay.' But after I got my food I cussed him the fuck out and I demanded to know why a non-English speaker was taking orders from, uh ... English speakers?!

Well well, I'm gonna end this post here, all, because I can type about this crap for days on end. Later this week, next personal/ sidenote story = Telephone Customer Service Agents in India! Grrrrrrr!

Last night I got off the phone with my friend who's a record industry executive and she told me some things about Rihanna that sheds new light.

Rihanna is a raging bitch and my friend's friends have witnessed Rihanna slapping the shit out of Chris Brown at various parties on several occasions! While at the crowded social functions that Rihanna wouldn't just start beating on Chris, the two would be seen arguing over something, Rihanna would shove him or hit him and they would storm out together on a regular basis! They are a volatile couple and Rihanna and Chris equally love their dysfunction.

I remember that my record industry friend told me RiRi and Chris would get back together BEFORE they actually did. She says some men love women who fight and some women love it too. She reminded me that they're probably having incredible makeup sex right now and she thinks that they'll even get married.

She says that Rihanna needs a mature, older man, not 19-year-old Chris, but that she acts like an idiot and no older man would wanna put up with her immature ass. She says that Rihanna grew up around men, fighting with her male relatives. She's probably a fairly decent fighter and doesn't consider fighting with a man as out of the ordinary as we do.

Here I was thinking of Rihanna as such a pushover behind closed doors. Not true! Rihanna allegedly beats on Chris Brown all the time. In summary - they're poison for each other.

Just to reiterate, I am not on Chris' side. Domestic violence is cowardly, reprehensible, unforgivable and often untreatable behavior. BUT, Chris' relatives and various people have said that Rihanna had to do something to set Chris off because he's not an angry, violent person. My friend says Rihanna was probably arguing with him, slapping him and being a bitch, then thought it was cute to throw his keys out the window and that's how their fight began. There are definitely two sides to a story and Rihanna and Chris both need to properly treat their dysfunction, not together, but away from each other.

You excitedly head out to do some shopping and you've found all the shiz that you wanted and more. You gather the things you want while you feel a wave of contentment set in. Shopping done. There goes one less thing to worry about and now you can cross it off the To Do list. But before you're able to exit the retail establishment of your choice, something gets in the way - you must pay for these items. Dammit. You proceed to the cash register, which is more like a debit card register these days, but I digress.

You make friendly with the sales rep. But not too friendly. You don't want to be shamed by your friend. You keep it simple and make brief, abrupt eye contact as you stand in silence. With each bar code scan you hear the familiar beep and your heart drops just a little bit more. You're watching your "Total Due" amount increase by the item. You're kind of panicking and you're wondering if it shows. You grin nervously. Are you obvious? Do you reek of suspicion? You glance at the new customer that joins the end of your checkout line. He needs to effing go somewhere else! In fact, everyone behind you could just leave now. No one should bare witness to what may happen.

You pray that it will all be alright. Your Amount Due is now complete. You hear, "That'll be...."

No words.
No eye contact.
You swipe your debit card.
You're frozen.
You hope.
It's pending
and pending
still pending
and pending...
It's taking too long!
That's because it's declined.
It's gonna be declined!
Pending...
This effing sucks.
You wanna hide.
The little screen reads APPROVED.

By God's graces you didn't urinate all over the floor, turn red or have to protest that you know someone must have made "a mistake!" because there's a lot of money in your account.

You give a quick "thank you," grab your receipt in silence and take your bags. You know your payment is going to bounce, but at least that will be between you and your bank, not the people waiting in line, ready to sigh and eye-roll while the cashier gives you stink eye even though you make more money than her.

It's nerve-racking and you vow to never again use your debit card when you don't know if funds are available. But you know that you're gonna.

My favorite blogger in the whole wide world freakin' universe planet, Snarky, is pregnant, bitches!

Snarky blogged for POTP for over a year. Snarky (aka Megan) only has three more months to go and she's been filling me in on her pregnancy journey. She is having a little girl. I am the honorary godmother. You read it here first, she doesn't even know that. I'm also the honorary aunt lady person.

I love Megan so so much and I am so excited for this little girl. She has some awesome parents. Doesn't Megan look like the gorgeous, glowing mommy to be in that top pic?

Congrats!!!! I can't wait until she's here. <3

While I was bored and rained-in due to the weather - yes, those are the only reasons why I decided to do this - I proceeded to cyber stalk my most recent "love of my life."

Now the whole "love of my life" phrase is one that I only began using last month. I enjoy it much, actually, because I think the denotations are accurate: This love was gravitational; it's like there was a magnet inside my vadge and one in his peanus. It was like some straight biological shit. Nature. And we were supposed to be together. Being in his presence felt like an orgasm of sexual chemistry, compatibility, fate and destiny exploded deep within my yearning heart. Move over Shakespeare!

I proceeded to stalk my ex online, but I ran into a few major problems. His name is EXTREMELY common. Ugh.

1) Hundreds of "him" appear in any inquiry.

2) The dudes who really look like him only really look like him cause the pics are way too small for me to know whether they're him or not.

3) If I do find him, that would ignite an entirely different dilemma. What am I supposed to do? Would I be tempted to send him a friend request or message when things ended horribly?

I need to know what he's up to. I need to know that he's married and has a baby girl who looks like a tranny and that his wife gained 400 pounds during her pregnancy and they no longer have sex and he's miserable. These are the things that I'd love to know, Facebook. If only his name weren't so freakin' common, and if only Facebook's privacy settings weren't so strict.