Belle of the Ball + 2 Left Feet = Sit It Down

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

So, Totsy wanted me to do cover story of her at the ball. Why ever did she desire that? I tried to talk her out of it because I so hate wasting my time. My doing a story on Totsy at a ball is like giving Jennifer Hudson a Hollywood star. Undeserved at this moment in time, okay?

Let me say this. Well, the title says it all. Who or whatever put the bug in Totsy’s ear to get up and dance was a total set-up. Had the gumption to take off her stilettos as if she was going to take over the dance floor. Not only does she not know a thing about line dancing but I don’t think she knew if she was coming or going. It should’ve been a humbling experience after the first time she got out there but she went two or three more times. As if she knew what she was doing! I absolutely cried and laughed on the inside for her.

Now, I’m as good of a friend as they come. You know that, right? A good friend who tells it like it T. I. Is. Okay? I gave her the business while driving her home, people, as she was drunk from spinning in the wrong direction on that dance floor. She even had the audacity to be tired and napped most of Saturday. I give it to her that she did look snazzy in that black Michelle Obama-like dress. Bloated and all, she was snazzy. However, being that was there, we all know who was crowned Ms. Hot, okay? Don’t let the fact that I shop in Ashley Stuart fool you, people. I am definitely that diva to be reckoned with. Hello? Knock, knock. High five. It’s the deliciousness of a diva coming to you live.

Hotter than Hot,

Beatrice from Apt. 7B

Belle of the Ball

"Prfile in Blue" Acrylic on paper. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

“Prfile in Blue” Acrylic on paper. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

Contrary to popular belief, I have me a little life down here in this south. Come two days time, I’m heading myself to a ball. Got my dress yesterday, tried it on in my bathroom where I can see all of myself from every angle and folks, I do declare on a stack of Bibles, the Torah and Qu’ran, I look hhhhhhoooot! I ain’t never lied to you, so there’s no point starting now. Okay? The truth will set you and a diva free. Alright?

This is how hot I was, folks. I was brushing my hand over my dress while I was looking at my divaness and folks, I thought I was gonna catch fire. You hear me? Saw myself a spark and had to come outta that dress for fear of blowing myself right on up. I have to at least make  it to the ball and have an audience if I’m gonna go kaboom. Like, it means nothing if I’m standing in the mirror all by my darn self. You feel me?

I got my do done and and it’s on like a bag of popcorn and Skittles. Okay? Got ole Beatrice over here looking at me cross and sideways with her Hollyhood self. I may have to get her to cover my story and write about my fabulosity ’cause to not do so would make absolutely no sense. Heeyyyy…As the queen of Hollywood gossip would say, ‘Don’t be mad. Be glad somebody as…’ Well, nevermind me trying to rhyme some silly words together. I’ll let Beatrice, the current mistress of undercover hatin’, give you the scoop…Umph…I’ll be darn if I ain’t over here sizzling, folks. Somebody, call 911.

Life in the Crazy Lane

"Looky Looky" Digtial Art / Copyright 2013 Totsymae

“Looky Looky” Digtial Art / Copyright 2013 Totsymae

I have absolutely no idea how to keep up with you folk anymore. Why, with The Real Housewives of Atlanta back on the air, me nosing around in this and that and every other whatnot I’m into these days, blogging is the furthest thing from my mind. I do want to share half of a story with you. I do, folks, have to exercise some level of discretion since acquiring this position with the FBI, trying to investigate what in the heck’s going on with Obamacare.

So, as the story goes, I had a texting stalker about a week ago. That joker was texting so fast, I could hardly get a word in. Scared the living poop outta me when one day I came home and heard some walking around up my stairs. At the time I’m hearing all this foot-walking, I’m hungry as all get out and had to stop mid-bite ’cause I’m thinking this nut’s been rambling in my paperwork. Seeing that everything was intact, what else could it possibly be, right?

So, I stay halfway focused on eating and still hearing footsteps. Call me crazy, foolish or what have you but I couldn’t fight this fool on an empty stomach. I had to get my strength up, folks. I kept my right eye on the patio door and my left one toward the den area while stuffing my mouth in case I had to make a run but I be darn if I wasn’t closer to the fridge than I was to the door. Now that I think about it, I don’t even think what I was eating was worth losing my life for but being the risk-taker I am, I kept right on eating some leftover whatnot.

Next thing I know, my daughter’s friend comes down and my eye sockets got so big, I thought my eyeballs would roll right to the floor. By this time, I’m chewing but it ain’t all that good, being that I’m scared for my life. Now, I can truly understand why them folk get killed 15 minutes into a movie. I mean, really. The choices folk make.  Though, I’m real happy I lived to tell you about this. Maybe one day, I’ll fill you in on the rest of the story.