Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Niggas don't see tracks or ingrown hairs
I love it here.
I love seeing ginormous booties with stretch marks and cellulite.
Big old tittays
non flat bellies.
All unabashed and unashamed in bikinis.
I'm at a beach with...black folks. SWIMMING...first of all. Getting their HAIR WET...secondly.....and loving the chocolateness that surrounds them.
i loved our body guard...who was watching us from afar yet blending in with the natives.
i loved my caipirinhas.
I loved the Atlantic ocean with it's unexpected dip 6 feet in.
I love that the logo of Bahia...the Bahaiana...she's the national symbol of the state and that while in America she may look like Aunt Jemima's sister, she predates slavery as the QUEEN of the CONGO.
I loved dinner and lunch at Yemanjas...where all the ladies were black and dressed up.
I love the passion of Brasilians. The food is passionate. The sand is passionate. The cheese griller dude on the beach is passionate. The jewelry salesman is passionate. Lord if this wind kicking outside my window ain't passionate....
I don't know what to do?
There is one problem though. This fucking roach the size of my havaiana is sprinting across the floor like Jesse Owens. I don't fuck with him at all. And I can't even catch him to kill him. Fast ass muthafucka.