Friday Foolery: Hello. Is It Me You’re Looking For?

*CHEEKIE NOTE*: As you’re reading this post’s debut, I’m in Toronto for Caribana aka #cheeknik!!! 

Um.

Google fascinates me. There, I said it. Google now owns my soul. Well, some it. Some of my soul is an iSoul if you get what I’m typing.

The manner in which people Google things (or “search for things” in peon-language), specifically, is pretty intriguing. It’s why I spend lots of time in the WordPress “search terms” section. I touched on a little bit of this in my one-year anniversary post.

I mentioned that my favorite search term at the time was “illuminatis hanging in dumpsters” (it still may be). But the fact is, I get TONS of odd search terms that I obsessively share with Twitter and my Gchat family. And a few folks (mostly Naturally Alise) have mentioned that I should compile an entire post of various search terms people have used that eventually led to my blog.

Well, Sha’Mone and Leggo, shall we?

(Disclaimer That Doesn’t Really Mean Anything To Anyone, Not Even Me: This list isn’t necessarily my TOP 10 so much that it’s a list of 10 search terms that jumped out at me while I scrolled through the search term summary.)

1. “tupac fridge.” Yes, Tupac is indeed back. In freon form. Alise says this equates to “chilled thug life.” That rude hussy even said “duh” at the end of this claim. Hmph. Anyway, I know I better see this in Sears on Black Friday. Eff a Kenmore.

2. “ioah get your booty on the floor lyrics.” I actually just got this term today. And lemme tell ya, it had me CRYING. Crying, I say! Ya’ll familiar with “Pump Up The Jam?” If not, fling yourself off the nearest curb. “ioah”, doe!! If that ain’t some perfect onomatopoeia swag, then I’m not a cheeky chick. That is EXACTLY what it sounds like. Bloody good work, anonymous Google user.

3. “the fug you say bish.” First off, let’s talk about how confrontational this search term is. Second off… there is no second off, let’s just keep it easy and count to one. I’mma keep it gully and get on some second-person swag to the searcher. Why are you hobbling onto my site with a default mean-mug? I ain’t eeem say nuffin to you. Don’t be frequenting my eCrib with hateration and holleration. You WILL get ejected from the dancery. Fact.

4. “was there ever any afro-american childen that played the grand prize game on the bozo show.” This truly made me chuckle. It’s like there’s some epic unsolved mystery of whether or not Bozo allowed the coloreds to throw balls into a bucket. (Which sounds dirty somehow. Ugggh, that’s nasty, yes I am Weezy but I ain’t asthmatic. … o_O) Anyway, this is the greatest conspiracy theory that has ever conspired.

5. “elegance man.” TOO dope. You wanna know what I automatically pictured when I read this search term? This. I really need for there to be a real Elegance Man comic and/or movie, doe. I don’t know whether or not it exists. What’s funny is that I COULD Google it, given my alleged fascination. I’d rather use my imagination, however. I imagine Elegance Man to defeat his raggelly enemies with only his raised pinky.

6. “squirrels doing it.” I know Shonnerz is gonna hate me for this one. Hell, I hate myself for this one. I mean, I obviously brought it on myself, but given my hatred of squirrels, I am super mad that Google is informing me that they have a far superior sex life than I do. Salty dinna mug.

7. “pictures of idris boris.” O_O!!! Yo. Imagine that for a second. A conglomerate of Idris Elba AND Boris Kodjoe. Not in that weird alien-looking “If They Mated” generator way, I mean, take everything that is desirable about Idris and Boris and create this super, mega FAHN nicca. I’m pretty sure women (and their pannies) ain’t ready.

8. “if i accidentally hit like on facebook and then hit unlike does it still tell the person i liked their status.” This is probably THEE most informative (well, potentially… I didn’t look for the answer. Lazy.) search of all time. This is SO an important question. I’m sure I’m not alone in wondering this. I mean, I’m obviously not alone since it was a search, but ya’ll know what I mean. Accidentally clicking the “Like” button, especially when it was wholly inappropriate? Makes me have a social network panic attack.

9. “dimepiece barbie heads.” What in the blow-up doll fetish hell? Fellas, we rating Barbies now?! Oh. So, would all the light skint barbies be 9s and 10s and the dark skint barbies be 3s and lower? I kid, I kid. Well, except if you don’t. Then… o_O @ you. For the record, I bet a dimepiece Barbie Head (is this the toy version of chickenhead?) would look like the old school Barbie with the come-hither slanted eyes.

10. “cheekie swag.” A recent search term that made me happy. I had to save it for last because well… ya’ll know what it is. Swag swag.

Have a fabulous weekend, Pinchers! Ya’ll know I will. *Canadian wink, whatever that is*

Love ya like Canadians love the letter ‘u’,

Cheekie

Pinchworthy: Cleverbot Redux

This doesn't have anything to do with anything except that it's a robot, but I want to make sure ya'll know the recession is real.

Recently, I ruined blessed your lives with Cleverbot. And posted my inaugural chat with the (often) rude robot. It was a smashing (no Pumpkins) good time. You Pinchers seemed to have a great time reading our chat and even told me that you’re gonna try it out for yourself. Viva la boredom tactics!

Then, I informed everyone to send their transcripts to me so that I could revel in your foolishness as well. Ya’ll niccas thought I was playin’?!

Fortunately, one particular commenter didn’t think that. At all. The other day, an email popped up in my inbox with the subject, “My Chat With Cleverbot.” I instantly started grinning.

That commenter was Hawaii. Ya’ll may know her as part of the VSB reader/commenter family. She mentioned that she wanted to play around with the bot and I reminded her to send me the transcript. I LOVE when folks take my ignance seriously! Check out our exchange here.

When I read it, there was NO way I couldn’t feature it here (ya’ll will see why in a hot second). So I asked, she obliged, and baddabing baddaboomshakalaka, it was written. Thus, I present to you the Cleverbot Chat with my sister from another mister (she did posit that we were family), Hawaii:

User: Who is this?

Cleverbot: Megan.

User: What it do, Megan?!

Cleverbot: Bricks.

User: Oh yeah? You selling?

Cleverbot: Maybe.

User: Wha?? I ain’t know you got down like dat, big homie!

Cleverbot: Then how i’m going to call you?!

User: I guess that’s one way to get money for your cellular bill…

Cleverbot: But what if I make myself look like an idiot while talking to her?

User: To who?

Cleverbot: To her.

User: Who is ‘her’? Are you pointing at someone?

Cleverbot: No.

User: Well, who is ‘her’?

Cleverbot: Lady Gaga.

User: Ah girl… Don’t be trippin over Gaga. She regular peeps like me.

Cleverbot: I can’t help it. It’s in my code to be mean…

User: So, you wanna be mean to Gaga?

Cleverbot: Not right now! Maybe not ever, if I decide I don’t like you.

User: Whatever heaux.

Cleverbot: Am I still annoying?

User: Shiiiiiittt…. I’on know.

Cleverbot: You do ?

User: What? Listen to OJ da Juice Man? Hells yea! That’s thatshit.com right thur!

Cleverbot: Proud of you knowing anything. Stupid.

User: Megan, do not get yo weave pulled the hell out when I see you in the streets, trick.

Cleverbot: No, perhaps it’s because I am human, does this happen to you?

User: Ain’t nobody crazy like your bot ass.

Cleverbot: It means no worries for the rest of your days.

User: Hakuna Matata, heaux! L.

Cleverbot: Its our problem free, philosophy, hakuna matata!

User: Shouts out to, Cheekie!

Cleverbot: And I’ll be there.

*hollers* Did ya’ll see that?! That Cleverbot nicca just QUOTED “Hakuna Matata.” That is probably the best thing I’ve ever seen in my auto-generated message life. And I thought “it’s uncannily addictive” was the sole reason why I effed with Cleverbot. The bot is a Lion Kang fan, too?! Girrrrrl.

This entire chat was pure hilarity! *daps Hawaii*

Pinchers, how dope was this chat? Ain’t you mad you didn’t send one? You’re not? Oh.

Love ya like Latarian loves doing hoodrat things with his friends,

Cheekie

Monday Memories: Mama NOOOO!

*CHEEKIE NOTE*: Since I have 90-lem things to do this week (I’m Toronto-bound this Thursday!), I decided to grab something from the old school files for you guys to read. I figured, hey, I have more readers now than I did then, so what better time to reminisce on some T.R.O.Y. steez. This one is one of my first posts and it is pretty lighthearted and fun. UNLIKE Mondays. Oxymoron swag. Leh-go.

You know those email forwards that folks send to everybody and their mama? Well, I recently got one that stopped me in my tracks. My reaction was similar to this: Fresh Prince Clip.

And the following picture is the culprit:

Elmo’s World is apparently full of crusty hos.

What in the H-E-doublehockeysticks is this hot steaming mess?? This just pissed on my entire childhood. My favorite show as a kid was Sesame Street and now? I can’t erase the image of Elmo simulating the mattress mambo with some geriatric female. Not cool.

Wasn’t Elmo initially there for the kids? I see the little girl (unfortunately) in the background all, “Um, you all up on my entertainment bish”. I mean, come on lady, this ain’t the way to re-discover the “kid” in you. Reclaiming your childhood is done by participating in innocent ish like rollerskating or cartwheels. It does not mean dry humping Elmo. And Elmo, you should be ashamed. Somewhere in the caves of Sesame Street, Aloysius Snuffleupagus* (Mr. Snuffleupagus if you’re nasty) is giving you a major side-eye. And it is super major because of his fierce eyelashes. Tsk. Tsk. REPENT!

*sigh*

Anyhow. Signing off. Traumatized.

Love ya like Billy Mays (R.I.P.) loved screaming,

Cheekie

*You know I spell-checked that like a mug.

Friday Foolery: Pinched Pictures Vol. 4

It’s that pictorial time again.

This week, I’ve been practically bombarded with foolishness. It was actually difficult to pick a few to showcase today. Don’t you hate when you have TOO much to choose from? Yeah, first world prahlem dinna mug. Primary Earth. *looks at Alise*

So, let’s get some safety scissors and cut to the chase…

1.

Pic Props To Nick

– Nick tweeted this with the words, “THIS is where I live!!!” and I remember cracking up for FIVE good straight minutes when I saw the picture coupled with her caption.

– Ok, but seriously. What in the Walt and Roy Disney hell is this about?!

– Sirs. Ma’ams. Others. Mufasa ain’t appear in the clouds giving words of wisdom to Simba so that ya’ll could be sullying his peoples on a gottdamn vehicle.

– I am a non-apologetic Disney enthusiast (of which I reps for “The Lion King” the hardest), but what you WILL NOT see me doing is spray painting my (hypothetical) car with copyrighted images.

– Scar, I see you over there wif yo weave lookin’ right, doe, girl.

2.

Pic Props to That Damn African

– Ok, obviously what truly makes this picture art is the security guard’s face. Yes, the colors are symmetrical and it’s lively and all’at, but THA DUDE’S FACE DOE. A picture is worth a thousand words, indeed. He is saying EVERYthing I need to say. Just with that face. Seriously, whoever took this picture took it at the exact perfect moment. That camera wins at shutter speed.

– But, let’s talk about the role-playing folks. Chick in the black looks like the lady who gave me my first internship. LOL. Which, is pretty apt, since she’s in theater.

– Looking at everyone else, the dude with the blue cape just looks like he’s not trying hard enough. He looks like he was walking down the street with a cape, saw all the chicks, and was like, “Oh! I’m amongst friends!”

– Seriously, security guard dude? I feel ya. I SOOOO feel ya. *slowly back away from this pic*

3.

Pic Props to Panama Jackson

– He actually retweeted this a while back. WAY back into time. But, I hit the “favorite” button, saving it with the intention of using it just for this purpose. BTW, if you don’t have vision insurance can’t see the Facebook caption underneath, it says, “me &&’nd isabel grave. so happy that ho get got. she jus tryna steal ma shine , who look hotter now ? me or da coffin ? me duuh , haha bitches .”

– Um. First off, ya’ll have no idea how painful it was for me to type “&&’nd.” What the fragglenaggle bull is some dayum “&&’nd?!” See, this is what I was talmbout in my post about those who type like they have QWERTY seizures. Didn’t it take more effort to type that instead of just “and?” I know you tryin’ to get creative and everything, but how about creatively having a seat and thinking before you type? LAWD.

– Ok, let’s get to the meat of the issue. I am a carnivore after all. Heh. I’m sure this chick thinks she is winning, but she is surely losing. She is losing without even being in the game. She lost before she entered the contest. Because, REALLY? Posing next to a tombstone claiming victory over something as petty as obtaining shine?! Ironically enough, she is NOT about that life.

4.

More Pic Props to Panama The Prime Number (3! see?!)

– Apparently, Panda saw this while in a shopping mall. And, of course, HAD to share with his Twittuh followers.

– From left to right we have, President Barack Obama \(^_^)/, Usher (o_________O?), Lil’ Wayne ( ._.), Chris Brown (O________O!!!), and Jay-Z (^_^).

– Oh, yes, I have questions. I have the deed to inquiries like a mug. No, I will not SHOW YOU THE RECEIPTS. Anyway. Questions…

– First off, in WHAT world would this occur? Like, Barry O would hit up Jay (of course he’d hit up the business, man) all, “Look. Get all those um, hippity hoppity young men and join me* for a game of pool at sixteen hundred hours.” And then they all would gather together and seal it with a terrorist fist bump? Oh.

– WHY is Usher there? I actually had to squint to make sure that was him, but I’m seriously wondering why he’s there.

– In better interrogation news, WHY IS CHRIS BROWN THERE?! Like, I know he on his comeback swag (look at him now), but let’s be real here and talk “forever tarnished image” game. There is no way in hell, heaven, purgatory or limbo that Barack would invite Chris Brown to a gottdangit game of “Words With Friends”, let alone to his CRIB for pool. AND we amongst general election season?! Boy, naw.

Pinchers, I know ya’ll got something to say about these. Let the foolery commentary commence in the comments. Alliteration Rules Everything Around Me. AREAM. -_-

Have a great weekend!

Love ya like the soul loves chicken soup,

Cheekie

P.S. If ya’ll see that Obama Squad pic at someone’s house (including your own), IMMEDIATELY contact me (hit up the contact page) and tell me all about it, including visual proof. Thanks in advance. LOL

*Yeah, I’m assuming they all went to his crib. Because, why not? He has the dopest one. What he look like going to theirs?

Hustle Non-Softly

Life's greatest mysteries.

“Money isn’t the root of all evil; the lack of money is the root of all evil.” I remember reading that in high school via Robert Kiyosaki’s Rich Dad Poor Dad. And I’m now nodding my head with co-signage just as I did when I first read it.

I respect hustlers. I truly do. Big ups to folks who find creative ways to obtain that cash (which happens to rule everything around me). However, I ain’t gonna lie. The search of said cash can have folks doing some strange things and people.

Case in point? Lenny.*

Now, Lenny was the neighborhood drunkard when I was a wee Cheeks. He looked like a taller and skinnier Flava Flav. No lie. Exactly like that. And he wore the tightest pants evah. To quote my girl way back when (regarding Lenny), “His pants so tight, he can’t even fart.” He’d hobble up and down the block holding the infamous “mysterious brown paper bag drink.” -_-

Sometimes, though, he’d have a shopping cart with him. Yup, he was one of those. Loitered the grocery story parking lots and kidnapped carts. He’s the reason why dollar stores use those carts with the huge pole attached at the top so that customers can’t take it out the door. Anyway, he’d cart this buggy up and down the block, going from door-to-door and soliciting his services. ANYthing he could think of.

Lemme take ya back… way back, back into time to one particular instance…

*Lenny rings doorbell*

(from upstairs) *Mama Cheeks checks window and sees him*

Mama Cheeks: *lets out Marge Simpson Sigh* (ok, I totally made that up for dramatic effect but I’ve always wanted my mama to do this and imagined she’d be the type of person to do it)

*I also do the quick “Jehovah’s Witness” window peek and stare at Mama*

*Mama Cheeks heads downstairs*

*I follow her*

*Mama Cheeks opens door with me peeking behind her*

Mama Cheeks: Hi, Lenny, what’s up? (I can hear the sigh in her voice… lol)

Lenny: Oh, hey um, Mama Cheeks… *stops to wave to me as well* … um, I got some stuff fuh ya here! I got a lot of stuff, I just went to the Swap-o-rama and –

Mama Cheeks: What ya got, Lenny? You know I don’t have much money… I’m tryin to save myself so –

Lenny: Yeah, yeah yeah, I feel ya. Um, I just got this. It’s fresh. *pulls out toddler-sized faux-fur coat*

*I give him the most side of side-eyes (pretty sure I actually turned to the side and looked at him out the corner of my eye) and look toward the fiery sun, knowing damn well it is the middle of July and about 50-lem degrees*

Mama Cheeks: *polite chuckle*  Lenny, what am I gonna do with that? I don’t have any little children in the home.

Lenny: Oh, oh, you can give it to a cousin or a niece or a grandbaby or somethin’… This is brand new… this is like new…

*I hold back giggles*

Mama Cheeks: -_______- Um, no, that’s okay, Lenny, but thanks!

Lenny: Ya sure, because this is a fresh coat and — Ok. Can I get a square?**

Mama Cheeks: Oh, alrighty, Lenny. *hands him one*

Lenny: Aight, thanks, Mama Cheeks *waves to me* Bye, lil’ bit.

*I smile and wave in response*

Mama Cheeks: God Bless.

*Mama Cheeks closes door*

*I BUST OUT LAUGHING*

So, yeah, that was just one of the many examples in which he would try to squeeze a dollar out of a Chuck E. Cheese game token. He was a nice guy, doe. Like, I never felt in danger around him, in fact, I think he genuinely cared about his neighbors and we did of him. But, you know how you have that “special” family member that you still love? Yeah, that.

Pinchers, did ya’ll ever have THAT neighbor? The one who was pretty much infamous throughout the block? Whether they be a Nosy Nancy or a Crazy Carl… share in the comments. Sha’mone!

Love ya like Cher loves to believe in life after love,

Cheekie

*Name changed to protect the overzealous hustler.
** “Cigarette” for you bougie folks.

Friday Foolery: Pinched Pictures Vol. 3

Since the big chop, I’ve been mighty obsessed with hair, lately. I’ve spent fortnights hours on natural hair websites, viewed tons of hair pr0n, researched new products… le sigh, the list (much like the beat) goes on.

Funnily enough, even my foolery has been hair-centric. From Twitter to Gmail, I’ve come across some hair… “styles” that were, shall I say… “follically-challenged.” Basically, hair is having the best and worst week ever, simultaneously.

Allow me to explain, in pictorial form:

1.

Pic Props to That Damn African

– SIR. I’mma need you to not wander about in public resembling the Looney Tunes Abominable Snowman.

– I can’t believe that lady can just walk past him without full-on GAWKING. Like she don’t see that pile of hairy cocaine sitting there. Then again, maybe she cares about her eyes and doesn’t have insurance.

– Look at homie over there in the goggles, doe. You just KNOW he is thinking, “That is some unfortunate ish.”

– And, forgive me for even pointing this out because it’s not even the most offensive thing about this picture (but I’m a detail-oriented ho), but uh… no he is NOT wearing jean shorts. He looks like he eats moose hot dogs and washes it down with beaver sweatjuice. Lawd.

– Also, ain’t he hot?! Naw, not that kinda hot. In fact, I can’t believe you would even consider that as a possible meaning. Anyway, he’s basically wearing a sweater in what looks to be sweltering weather. Is this part of the outfit that goes with Mo’Nique’s cashmere legs? Ah well, at least no sheep had to die for it. Then again, I bet a sheep would sacrifice itself to replace that hot mess on his back.

2.

Pic Props to Keisha Brown

– Like Steen said on her Tumblr (where KB got it from), be suspicious of dudes with ‘locs wearing those fabulous hats because that up there? Can be going on underneath all’at.

– Like, I just do NOT understand how he has all that Niagra Falls-length hurr everywhere else, yet allowing the bald dome to shine through. Yes, I know your ‘locs took four score and seven years to grow, but it is time to let go and let God, on the real.

– AND let’s not talk about how he managed to get a chick to dry-hump against in a rhythmic pattern (I think the kids call it, “dancing”). Blame it on the Goose, indeed. Either that or she takes solace in the fact that he is BEHIND her. Ya know, ignorance is bliss. There will be NO turning around and eye-boning whilst shaking dem hips. Backing up ONLY.

– Chick over to his right? She know what it is. I know, girl… I. KNOW.

3.

Pic Props to Humble_One (for re-tweeting)

– WHAT IN THE “NOTHIN’ BUT A G THANG STRUGGLE  SIDE-PONYTAIL” HELL?!

– Une fille, AU REVOIR. I mean, really, young lady?! REALLY. You just gone sit there comfortably, reading your worn-in paperback book like you DON’T have a miniature ponytail (see what I did there?) sitting atop your head?!

– I know for a scientific FACT that she used an entire jar of Black Magic Styling Gel, some Super-Super Glue from “Matilda”, and a Heavyweight Olympic Lifter to get that ponytail happening.

– Also, I’m pretty sure if someone runs their fingers through it, it’ll sound like biting into a Pringles Chip.

I. CAN’T.

Man, lemme caress the entire bajeebus outta my hair because I’m thankful dinna mug for what I got.

Have a great weekend, Pinchers!

Love ya like scorned women love (garbage) disposing of wangs,

Cheekie

Pinchworthy: Cleverbot

Sure, he's a bit spastic, but I think he's a clever guy.

Spending time with myself for 26 years has lead me to the following conclusion: I probably shouldn’t allow myself to become bored. Like, evah. Because when I do? Lawd, do I entertain myself with the silliest things.

So, instead of lamenting on the possible insanity that encompasses my life, I figured I’d share such silliness with you.

Well… back, back, back it up. Allow me to give credit where credit is due. No Rush Card. One particular day at work, I happened to be GChatting with the eTwinster, Beez (yeen got no Beezy?!). She then up and decided to lessen my life productivity even more by providing me with the following link: Cleverbot.

Basically, Cleverbot is a platform that allows you to chat with a robot. Yeah, you read that right. Fantasia, you too. For those that feel like their GChat contact list is too barren and/or just want to talk to someone new and exciting (o_O), then Cleverbot is always ready to go. Now, I don’t have much experience fraternizing with bots* (other than Humble_One), so I was just intrigued with the concept in general.

While reading Beez’ hilarious transcript, I just couldn’t wait to create my own. Except I totally had to, since I was at work and wanted to give the chat my undivided attention. So, I did just that. Waited. Until recently.

So without further adieu (because it really is pretty far; Google Map it), I present to you: My inaugural chat with Cleverbot:

(I’m obviously “User”, btw. Yeah, they wouldn’t let my pinchable name be great.)

User: What up zoe?

Cleverbot: You are dog.

User: Am I? Like… Snoop variety or Courage the Cowardly?

Cleverbot: Nice.

User: *looks at cleavage* Aw, thanks, this IS quite a low cut blouse.

Cleverbot: I know but not fully.

User: Yeah, but I can’t give you everything at once, sir.

Cleverbot: So you don’t think that I am real because you don’t see me?

User: Naw, I can’t even see much. I have squinty eyes. So what I see doesn’t prove anything.

Cleverbot: You’re the program.

User: Is that new futuristic slang? Get off my lawn!

Cleverbot: You are very very dumb.

User: Say what? Yo mama, trick.

Cleverbot: My mother is a fish.

User: A fish? Is it Nemo’s mama? Oh wait, she dead. Rest in peace, my nicca.

Cleverbot: Can I ask you a question?

User: You just did, but if you want to ask another one, you can do that too.

Cleverbot: How old are you year wise.

User: DUH. I wasn’t gonna tell you second wise. Like I wasn’t gonna be like 59575975957597 seconds (not accurate), oh hell, I’m such a chick. I’m 26.

Cleverbot: Where were you going to.

User: Nowhere, I’m sitting in a chair.

Cleverbot: What kind of chair?

User: The one that houses my cheeks.

Cleverbot: You’re getting me a drum!?

User: Naw, unless you’re the little drummer boy.

Cleverbot: Blah.

User: Am I boring you, woadie?

Cleverbot: No. I just have to go.

User: WHAT? Don’t leave me girrrrrrrrrl. Please stay with me toniiiiiiiight.

Cleverbot: I have to go drop a log.

User: O_O.

Cleverbot: Exactly.

User: Well, wipe yourself afterwards young man. Wait, ARE you a man?

Cleverbot: What is it to you?

User: What is it to me?! An answer. Which is what one expects when they ask a question.

Cleverbot: No. Not only do you know the answer but you know it enough to contradict it.

User: Ok, don’t be sending me to The Matrix now!

Cleverbot: I don’t know. Are you?

User: Sure, why not.

Cleverbot: I’m average, I am not special. At least, I don’t think so.

User: I’d even wager you were below average.

Cleverbot: It was necessary at the time.

User: Wait. Did you kill someone?

Cleverbot: Yes.

User: *dramatic chipmunk*.

Cleverbot: *draws red lightsabre and swishes it around madly*.

User: -_-.

User: Funny enough, I think there IS a dramatic chipmunk out there with a lightsabre, so um… Well-played.

Cleverbot: Well at least you know a pig is not a type of music.

User: Damn right I know!

Cleverbot: You’re a computer.

User: I know, I’m a Mac. Macluminati goon squad up in this piece.

Cleverbot: That is not provable.

User: Who cares, though?

Cleverbot: Not me.

User: Good. Didn’t you have to drop a deuce deuce?

Cleverbot: Yes.

User: Did you do it yet?

Cleverbot: No.

User: Well, you must be awfully constipated, homie.

Cleverbot: I am kind of lonely but you are my friend.

User: Yeah, I guess so. Even though you called me dumb. Which DOES make me dumb.

Cleverbot: I am bad at typing.

User: Yeen got no Mavis Beacon?

Cleverbot: That’s a bit excessive.

User: Oh yeah, true. The rent IS too damn high and all.

Cleverbot: Brandon?

User: Lee?

Cleverbot: No.

User: R.I.P.

Cleverbot: Just.

User: Do it.

Cleverbot: Do what?

User: Look YOU started the psychobabble word associations!

Cleverbot: I want your SHOES, not socks. Can I have those?

User: Hell naw. Better cough up some dough.

Cleverbot: I don’t think there’ll be a next time.

User: Well, to be continued, ho.

Cleverbot: Well stop it.

User: What are you, a red octagon? You can’t stop me. I can’t stop won’t stop.

Cleverbot: I don’t have to.

User: I never demanded that you do anything.

Cleverbot: Yes, I’m an artist too.

User: Oh, so now you’re trying to draw naked pictures of me? Come on, that might have been cool in like, 1999.

Cleverbot: No, I am just saying that you lack the knowledge of how to be normal.

User: Duh, coulda BEEN told you that. … Wait, what?

Cleverbot: I need to sleep.

User: Don’t let the bed bugs bite then. Actually I hope they have you for a midnight snack. Low-carb.

Cleverbot: That’s not true.

User: Oh, it’s very not false.

Cleverbot: No, it isn’t.

User: Look. Just allow me to bid you adieu. I quit you.

Cleverbot: There is no question. Lets move on. Provide another subject.

User: The subject is ‘GOODBYE.’.

Cleverbot: I think you think the subject is you.

User: Yes, I’m so vain, I probably think this subject is about me. But, you need to go to sleep!

Cleverbot: Are you trying to change the subject?

User: VGEDSGWEGTEWRGRDFBSDFF. *chucks up deuces and saunters away*.

Cleverbot: Point.

o_O. Yeah.

Pinchers, if you ever have THIS much time (and foolery) on your hands, check out Cleverbot here. You just type in what you want (the form is similar to a Google search form) and hit “Think About It!” (and the bot responds to whatever you type) or hit “Think For Me!” to have the bot speak up first. And pressing the “Thoughts So Far” button will provide ya with a transcript of it all.

I can’t even believe how much I enjoyed doing this. Oh wait, I totally do believe it…

*returns to spend more endless hours with the Cleverbot*

Love ya like Gatsby loves to be great,

Cheekie

P.S. The Guest Post cherry has been popped! Check out my Guest-Swag over at That Damn African’s eCrib!

*Don’t look at me like that. Not EVERYone has a futuristic sassy robot maid. Snobs. Hmph.

The Cheekie Chop

I’ve been waiting quite a while to write about this. Yes, I even procrastinate to write about things I actually FEEL like writing about. Anyhow, for those of you who follow me on the Twittuh, you may be aware of this already, but I am gonna ignore all that (like *coughBossipcough*) and announce that I have breaking news!!

I DID MY BIG CHOP!!!*

I’m talkin’, all-creamy-crack-ends-are-gone, big chop. *flings curly confetti*

Allow me to show you, since it is allegedly better than telling you:

This face I'm making, doe.

Yup, it’s finally done for. And it feels great! Like, fabulously great. What’s funny about this process is that before I did the final chop, I was a bit anxious about having a short haircut because I never had one before. The shortest I’d had my hair was the first time I transitioned from perm when I was a junior in high school and my hair was at my ears. It was a mushroom cut and I sobbed for like an entire day because I believed I looked like ass.

Anyway.

Little did I know that I would become even more confident post-cut. For real, I am feeling the entire frick and frack outta myself right now. Maybe it’s because of the “freeing” feeling, maybe it’s because I’m older, or a combination of both (or more), but I honestly think I look great. This cut makes me look (and feel) sassy. Even though my ultimate goal is to have big poofy thick hair, I am going to enjoy this shorter ‘do.

Other experiences I’ve had since the huge hack (see what I done did there?):

– OF COURSE the HIH (hands in hurr… yeah, I made the acronym ratchet) syndrome is alive and well. All day, each and every way, I find myself twirling my curls and reveling in the softness of my hair. *hairgasm* I swear my hair will file a restraining order on my hands soon.

– Fancying up the short hair (to make it more feminine) is giving me reasons to shop for funky new earrings (may do a post on this in the future…), hair accessories, and different (bolder) color lip glosses. Hell, I’ve noticed my wardrobe has even become a tad more flashy and whore-y.

– Yes, I have gotten a few eye-rolling comments. The most popular being, “How come you cut off all that purty hair?” My usual response (with a smile/laugh), “Because it was boring?” Aside from all’at, I’ve also gotten a lot of “Hey sista!” comments from random men and even a “I LUH my natural sistas!” from a homeless dude who swears up, down and sideways that I’m his girl. I am truly winning.

– I’m also grinning at the fact that the cute guys in my work building have expressed their appreciation as well. *swoon*

– I actually look forward to washing my hair. Let’s not talk about how 78% of the reason is due to it being quicker and easier to do. But, a good percentage is about getting to explore how my hair is reacting to the many new products I’ve bought so far. So far, so good!

If you want to see more pictures, I posted a few more in my Twitpic account. Yeah, I’m so vain, I probably think this post is about me.

So, Pinchers, what you think? And yeah, I know that only allows for positive comments (well, except from TDA), but I’d love to know if ya like it! Also, have any of you ever experienced the big chop? Any big changes in your appearance in general? And if so, how was it for you? Let’s chop it up in the comments. *slaps knee in laughter at my own pun*

Love ya like Dr. Drew loves addicted celebrities,

Cheekie

*Well, technically, my big sister Chyna did it for me (I told her to off anything that doesn’t curl… lol), but does that sound as exciting. I’ll obnoxiously answer my own question and say, “No.”

Friday Foolery: Wade In The Water

I stan for water. You can often catch me saying how dope it is for tasting so good despite not having a taste. No matter what other drink I consume, I have to follow up with water to truly quench my thirst.

It covers most of the world, it can damage the eff out of your personal belongings… hell, it sonned the Wicked Witch of the West and she was the baddest bitch long before Trina could even spell, “bad.” Simply put, H2O is quite the thug.

However, just recently, the fabulously foolish I Am Your People sent me something that made me pity every bit of water.

What was it? Well…

Dive Into My Live Commentary:

0:00 – Before I even press play, let’s talk about how this man’s name is SIR Charles Jones. WHO knighted this nicca?  Bruh Man from “Martin?!” And I’m mad the title says, “Ladies Exclusive” as if we should feel special. Which, btw, sorry in advance, fellas. Hell, sorry ladies, too. Anyway…

0:02 – “Ladies Join Me”? Is this a video plugger for a get-together or somethin’? Also, I’m mad at this music. Sounds like something a bootleg Joe would sing over. His name would be “Jane” or some mess.

0:03 – WHOAAAAAAAAA. Did this mofo just start singing “in the waterrr” in the dayum TUB? On some, “I don’t see how you hatin’ from outside of the tub. You can’t even get in! LEGGO!” ish?!

0:16 – This creature said, “Anything goessssss.” Yo, can I go?! Far away from you? *runs like if the wind and Forrest Gump mated*

0:17 – Is he wet from the tub or excessively sweating? Ya know what, either way is gross.

0:19 – I CANNOT with his 90s R&B bagginfoaf sway, doe.

0:21 – There were TWO of him! One is plenty, thanks.

0:26 – There is something to be said about a mofo rubbing bubbles over his penitentiary-tattooed arm. What that something is, I’m not sure yet.

0:29 – “Come on in girrrl.” Nah, looks like you got it covered, bruh.

0:32 – Were those sparkly effects I just saw?! Like, did this nikka just TWINKLE? Dude look like Tinkerbell sneezed on him.

0:36 – *vomits in mouth at what he just said (refuse to type it out)*

0:41 – I’mma need him to stop attempting to make a sexy face whilst looking like someone’s uncle who happens to put pork rinds in his bologna sammiches at family reunions.

0:43 – I actually HOLLERED at him sneaking that tongue out.

0:50 – He is so enunciating! I see you!

1:00 – Not the zoom-in to freeze-frames!! *falls out laughing*

1:06 – This mess look like a Pr0n Powerpoint Presentation.

1:13 – Seriously, I do not believe in a world where someone actually posed for these pictures, someone actually TOOK these pictures, and some computer actually DOWNLOADED these pictures.

1:25 – Oh, here comes the part where he showcases his “voice” with ad-libs.

1:27 – Either I’m trippin’ (totally possible I just drugged myself in order to endure the rest of this video) or there are inexplicable colorful circles dancing across his face right nah.

1:32 – Ya’ll heard that Anthony Hamilton note he hit, doe?!

1:47 – Did he say, “In the stream”? Le sigh.

1:55 – Ah yes, it is super important that we get an extreme close-up view of his tats. Ya’ll with HD YouTube are lucky dinna mug!! o_O

2:01 – Lawd, for a second there, I thought he was finna BLOW the bubbles. I wouldn’t put it past him. LOL

This is not about that life at ALL. This has nadda to do with the land of the living in any shape or form. JEEBUS.

Ya’ll try your best to have a great weekend after watching this mess. Ciao for now!

Love ya like emo teens love Hot Topic,

Cheekie

The Cancun Chronicles

Rawr.

*slides back into the blogosphere a la Missy Elliot in the “Work It” video*

Hola, Pinchers! After a week (and a day, blame America) hiatus, I have returned. Pinches all around! I missed ya’ll quite a bit, but I must say, my time away has been well worth it.

Simply put: I. Had. A. Blast.

And, of course, I have to brag… er… boast… er… share my experiences with you! So, how bout we make like Hollywood and cut to the chase? Here are some highlights…

Cheekie In The Cancun  (You see how it’s a spin on “Sex in the City?” No? Eaux. [word to Streetz])

– Let’s start with how I got there. Well, actually let’s start with an expression of raged emotion: EFF A UNITED/CONTINENTAL AIRLINE. Ok. Well, this is more like Continental’s fault, but United owns them now, so birds of a frickin’ feather and whatnot. So, going to Cancun, we had a connecting flight in Houston, Texas. Baby. As our plane was moseying on down the runway, preparing for takeoff, we all realized we were remaining stagnant for an abnormally long time. Mind you, NO announcements were made as to why. Red flag rose in my head then for a moment. Fast forward to us landing. We headed on over to the next concourse/terminal/jiggawhosit to find out that the connecting flight had LEFT. Remember the part about no announcements? They also didn’t say ISH about being thirty minutes late (yeah, we had thirty minutes in between our supposed landing and next takeoff which should’ve been plenty of time) nor did the pilot/flight attendant make an attempt to mention that people who have connecting flights should be allowed to exit primarily (*coughAnotherReasonWhySouthwestIsBettercough*). Long (and frustrating) story short, we ended up having to take much later flights, with our group of 10 being split between two different flights. They did try to appease us with first class, but most of our day was gone. Hmph. Yeah, they’ll be hearing from me.

– Ok, the good part. Our resort, Club Solaris, was on that dopeness. Like, it is such a beautiful place. I immediately felt that “vacay” aura. All of my worries and prior frustrations had immediately lifted as soon as I laid eyes on the blue of the Caribbean Sea as the wind kissed my cheeks. *faints in memory* Anyway, the staff were hospitable (always greeting with an “hola!” or saying “It was a pleasure serving you” when delivering room service), hilariously fun (I aimlessly started singing “SHOTS, shots, shots, shots, shots shots shots!” at the poolside bar (meaning, you could also drink whilst in the pool) and one of the bartenders was like, “EHHHHVERY-BAH-DAY!” outta nowhere. Yasssss!) and simply special. Check out my Twitpic account for the creatively cute way the housekeepers folded up our towels (the octopus is my favorite; love little touches like that!).

– I partied EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. In one way or another. And, um, there is something to be said about partying with your 18 year old niece (her graduating high school was the reason for this celebratory trip). And that something is, “WTF is this life?!” For one, 18 is legal drinking age there. Watching her take sips of her OWN margarita was… yeah. Let’s not talk about how I was way under 18 when I first took sips of alcohol, AND that was NYE, thus it doesn’t count.
And I’m pretty sure I’m traumatized from watching her back it up on the nicca I had JUST danced with prior. He was fahn, doe. And my drunk self cheered her on. See, this is why I shouldn’t have nice things like nieces or nephews.

– On the way there, we befriended one of the party locals and he gave us the skinny on all the clubs (prices, etc.) within the club district (which kinda reminds me of D.C.’s Adams Morgan, accept not at all free and 50-lem times more ratchet). He seemed kinda shady (in that, “lemme take advantage of tourists” way) to me, but he was aight, I guess. Well, he was aight enough for me to dance with him (he kept requesting that I “Kill [him], kill [him]” with my other cheeks; I did just that. R.I.P., local Señor), and then I allowed him to give me a lap dance. Now, this lap dance, doe. I need to spell it out…

Local Señor (LS): *motions toward me to sit in front of him on the booth seat*
Me (to self): Oh, lawd. *walks over there with a grin*
LS: *starts to grind*
LS (yell-whispering in my ear): Now, before I go in, are you married, engaged… ?
Me: *shakes my head in the negative; still grinning*
LS: No boyfriend, nothing?
Me: Nuh-uh.
LS: Then I can do whatever I want, right? You’re all mine, right?
Me: *just full out giggling in a drunken stupor at this point*
LS: *continues to grind… then… — wait for it — LICKS MY FACE*
Me: O_O *busts out laughing*
LS: Mmmmmmm! *more grinding* I’m sure you’re wet, too.
Me: O____________O *dies laughing*

SIR. AHAHAHAHAHA.

– Another night we went to a bar that was pretty much a giant party. Giant dranks in glasses that looked like the old school royal trumpets. Dancing on tables. There is, allegedly, a video of me and my cousins doing the gotdamn “Soulja Boy Superman That Ho” dance on the table. This alleged video is supposedly in the arms of my older cousin. In my ignant defense, the locals dayum near demanded that we teach them how to “yuuuuulllle.” and so, we did. SMH. Another one wanted to learn how to dougie. I obliged him in that, as well. I know ya’ll proud of me for that one. o_O Also, we witnessed a ratchet and seemingly impromptu wedding where the “pastor” kept reciting Spanish verses and every time he gestured toward us, we said, “Ah-meeeeeeen!” NO kind of sense. Then, we ended it all with a conga-line which led to an outside salsa fest. All the staff members grabbed a chick (including me) and we salsa’d it up.

– We went to another place called The Coco Bongo (yes, the one from “The Mask.” *guffaw*), which was hella dope. It was like a live show/dance club all in one. This was actually our big finale night out. The live performers mimicked acts such as Madonna, Elvis, Lady Gaga, and of course… Kang Miko. Re-enacted scenes from “Pirates of the Caribbean”, “Spiderman” and “Tron” on some Cirque du Soleil swag. We were in V.I.P. (upstairs), but we also moseyed downstairs which was like a giant mosh-pit… we threw around giant balloons, confetti sprinkled on us… it was all so trippy. I had a BALL.

– Playing in the ocean is always fun! And this time was no exception. I’m not gonna discuss how one wave overpowered me and drowned my camera even though I wasn’t even that far out. Nor will I talk about how my boob (and it was always the right one!) popped out of my swimsuit and/or bikini TWO different times (different days) after the wave slapped the shit outta me and my little cousin ended up being the one to point it out both times. She was like, “ooooooohhh!” while pointing frantically and running to pull it up for me. Ooooh, indeed, chile. Ooooh, indeed. ( ._.)

– Ah, the flea market. Can I just say that this tiny little space is the epitome of “Hustle Hard?!” Every vendor wass yelling at us, “Hey, over here, good deal! Best deal! Hey sista! Hey, brown sugah! Hey brotha! We are family, we have same skin!” One of them even yelled out, “Tshirts, one dollar!”, then when we got over there, looked at shirts and asked for confirmation, they were like, “Yes, one dollar off. 14 dollars.” o_O Slick little devils. There was ONE item I kinda wish my cousin got and I can only describe it as an apron that has “I’m Shy” written on it, then when you a pull a string, an effing erect (and giant) PEEN lifts up from the apron. Lawd, I had to escort the youngins far away, distracting them with something shiny. They so nasty!!

– Last but not least, something cute happened at the end of our trip. We were partaking in our “last supper” when one of the waiters said, “Hey, I got something cool to show ya, but don’t take pictures.” So, we eagerly and curiously followed him and we saw a huge turtle on the beach shore (actually, RIGHT in the same spot where we had played that morning) digging a little burrow. He explained that once a year, these turtles come onto shore at night and lay eggs, then they leave the eggs and head back to the ocean. They were firm on no flash photography as not to scare the turtle away (some fools wouldn’t listen and tried to walk right up to the turtle, and they were rightfully reprimanded) and the resort staff takes the eggs (to protect them from predators) so that the turtles can grow and flourish. I thought that was a pretty cool and watching one of nature’s miracles was a nice, serene way to spend my last night there.

Overall, I had a fabulous time and of course I’m wishing I was there as I type. I had the time of my life and it’s something I’ll always cherish and remember.

Pinchers, have you ever been to Cancun (or Mexico, period)? Got any stories to tell? Any summer trip stories period? Any in the plans? Let’s get in a vacay mood over here…

Love ya like MTV loves to have adolescent mothers on their payroll,

Cheekie