This is very long so mi thiks gonna split it up into multiple posts/episodes.
Disclaimer…. This is for entertainment purposes only anything else that happens between the author and the reader is purely fictional in nature. This is purely fictional dramatic tale. End of Disclaimer.
This aint no PG rated post- Reader discretion is advised. Seriously I mean it!
Episode one:
“ABQ meets Bridezilla”
When ABQ version 1.0 left he was on his way to giving up his gangsta ways and going straight as the road lets him. But ABQ the sequel wants to tell you what has happened since. Now this is long…very long like mi Anaconda so if you do not want to read it now is the flippin time to skidaddle.
When ABQ last left he was going to become a wedding planner. This is a story of my downward fall of trying to go straight. Not sexually of course cause ABQ aint down like that. Things were going well for ABQ and being a wedding planner. Those with not a lot of money would come to me and I would hook them up with the best wedding their money could buy minus my 17% commission of course. My wedding planning days was going into week 4 when Jamie Lynn this 4 foot 7 totally white as white can be walked into my little office. I have to keep the name of the actual name of mi little company private cause it is involved in litigation. If I knew then what I knew now I would of gotten hold of some fulminated mercury but I digress.
Jamie was a short little thing, must of weighed all of 90 pounds. Her freckles showed she liked to go to the beach every other day and never heard of sun tan lotion. I heard this term before and was hoping ABQ would never ever meet one but within an hour I knew that day was unlucky for me. As I had my first bride-zilla.
1. A merging of the words "bride" and "Godzilla." A new breed of brides whose desire to have a perfect wedding causes her to terrorize the bridal party, family, and wedding guests.
2. Bride-zillas will do anything it takes to make their special day perfect. Even if this means destroying friendships, the marriage in question, or even whole cities.
3. Bride-zillas seem like normal human girls, until the wedding planning begins. By that point it's too late.
4. Anyone woman you know could be a bride-zilla. Your sister, your best friend, even that girlfriend you've been considering popping the question to. Read further before you make that mistake, homies.
Since at this time ABQ was going the straight and narrow path I am going to recall what happened with limited ABQ vocabulary and shiz so everyone can understand my pain. When Jaimie Lynn walked into my life that day my wedding planning days were numbered.
“This wedding has to be beyond perfect for me”. Do you understand she says in a very prissy way to me. My wedding dress has already been paid by my wonderful, sweetheart of a dad. Did you know he missed two rounds of golf to take me to get my dress. How sweet is that?” “So everything must be perfect to the letter T and P.”
“Why P?” I ask semi confused.
“Cause I am a princess that is why.”
Ok the ABQ at this moment almost vomited but took eight deep breaths and allowed little ms princess to continue.
“So can you help me and my to die for finance as we only have so much money. And my dad has capped the wedding at 10 grand because of how expensive my wedding dress was.
“Come back tomorrow morning and we can discuss specific, number of attendees, flowers, music, reception…etc.”
“Ok. I will.”
Day Two-
I knew today would not be good as I woke up wanting a shot of tequila. Instead I had me a 40.
“So I need all the flowers to be Pink, including at the reception. They must be on the walls, each of the two hundred attendees must wear some sort of pink flower. The five story wedding cake has to be all pink. All the bridesmaids dresses must be pink. I have already told the bridesmaids they all have to dye their hair blonde like me. The day of my beautiful wedding, I insist that you help me choreograph an elaborate dance for the bridesmaids to perform at the reception that night. I have been working with my mother on how to properly walk down the aisle. I do not like her stride, pace, or posture. So you may have to hire someone to help me with that.”
“Bitch…pleaaaaaase”. Was all the ole ABQ can say as this was one of the few times that he was flabbergasted.
I am a lady and from now on please refer to me as Princess Bride. Everyone that dances with me at the reception must have a different song of my choosing depending on how I feel about that person. Also currently I am having my bridesmaids write a letter to me in great detail about why they should be the Maid of Honor. We both know without a doubt how important that is….Sigh*…. I had ten bridemaids but now it is down to eight.”
I had to ask it as I knew this would be interesting. “Why is that.”
“Mandy was let go from being a bridesmaid for complaining of my phone calls to her at 1 or 2am in the morning to help me go over ideas. Victoria was a much easier decision. She is now five months pregnant by the time of the wedding in August she will be huge. It might ruin the wedding pictures you know?” I have ordered all 8 bridesmaids that they must lose at least 10 pounds before the wedding so you need to take care of a personal trainer and make sure that happens. All bridesmaids must have weekly status meetings with me to come up with new and exciting ideas to give to you to help with my wedding.” She smiles way too gleefully for me. This woman scares me. She scares ABQ. Holy shit!
“Anything else?” I say knowing I should have had that tequila this morning.
“The wedding will be on a lake just outside Houston. The most efficient way to reach the ceremony site will be via boat. Driving is an option but a good 40 minutes or so. None are allowed in the house we are renting but myself, my maid of honor, my mom and dad. So you must also make arrangements for the boat as well. The catering has to be the most exquisite you have ever done. Appetizers, food for second and thirds, caviar, open bar and each bottle of wine that is there must be approved by me.”
I start laughing uncontrollably. As this is the funniest and also most frightening client I have ever had. At this moment I think of eccie and what each of the providers must go thru in whether to see a client or not. I compose myself after several minutes and say “You except this all for 10,000?”
“Yes.”
“Well that shit aint donna happen Ms. Princess.” ABQ if anything is honest. So what does Jamie do but start crying uncontrollably and then starts to throw some f bombs at ABQ. “You are going to make this happen asshole…fuck all I have is 10,000. My daddy will not give me more money fucker…Ok.” She then goes back to crying.
The ole ABQ takes out his dirty calculator as I start typing numbers. Five minutes later I tell Jamie Lynn this. “Ballpark figure not including my 17% commission I need a check from you or your father for 57,231 dollars and 81 cents. Actually, I have great news for you I also accept Visa and Mastercard but not American Express…ever. Cashier check is actually the best and made out to Gansta 4 u Enterprises.”
“What! I do not have that type of money.” She starts to cry even louder.
“There is no way with what you want that all of this will be accomplished with 10 g’s. But I can help in certain areas. I can teach your bridesmaids how to twerk for your elaborate dancing sequence.”
“How the fuck is a twerk.” Oh this white girl has a mouth on her now as she is still crying.
“Let me semiemujucate you. Twerking is a type of dancing in which the dancer, usually a woman, shakes her hips in an up-and-down bouncing motion, causing the dancer's buttocks to shake, "wobble" and "jiggle. Who do you think taught poor ole Miley Cyrus how to twerk? Me that is who.”
“That is never ever going to fuckin happen at my wedding.” She snaps back.
Damn the tension is rising here. ABQ takes a deep breath and responds “I can get you Birdman as the wedding singer. He owes me a favor.”
“Who is Birdman?” She is now shrieking. I turn around my laptop and make her watch a you tube video of “Fireflame” and “Money to Blow.” Soon after she fainted.
Fifteen minutes later she is up when I speak. “Now bitch get your shit together.”
“You know what Mr. Unprofessional I am sick of you calling me a bitch.”
“Most women do not. I agree but you put the word Bad in front of it and then they take it as a compliment. A bad bitch is a female who knows what she wants and knows exactly how to get it. Female who is always ready for anything physically, emotionally, and also intellectually(one being book smart as well as street smart). A woman who is classy and all about business. And lastly but certainly not least one who knows how to take care of her man at home and in the streets and remains loyal to him(her man), herself, and the game at which she plays. You stick the word motherfuckin in front of bad and the compliment goes up ten fold.
There are numerous uses of the word bitch or as I sometimes say biatttch! Word used to describe the act of whining excessively. Or a Person who rides specifically in the middle of a front-seatting only car meant for 2 passengers or less. Or a modern-day servant; A person who performs tasks for another, usually degrading in status. Or a term used to exclaim hardship. Or an exceedingly whipped guy (Could be your finance) who does/wears/thinks/says whatever his girlfriend tells him to. Or a woman that doesn't give a flying fuck anymore and that can and will be cruel to men. Such as I’m always a bitch to assholes like you and by the way I’m proud to be a fuckin bitch to you.”
“But let me semedumicate you some more I use Bitch as a noun. Here was a conversation I had with a buddy of mine the other day name Pete. “You know what mi bitch did to me last night? She stole fifty motherfuckin dollars from me. I am bitch as hell pissed off. I called that bitch four motherfuckin times and got no response so had to bitch up and call her bitch ass mom. You know what that biatch said? All dope n shiz and all cool as fuck. She said bitch don’t call here no motherfuckin bitchin more. Comprende?”
“So you can go now. We will talk more when you get me some more cheddar, dollars, money from your father.” After a half hour of whining some more and turning down my generous offer of Birdman she finally left. The next day I got to meet her six foot four like 170 pounds fiancée. Here is the gist of what he told the ole ABQ.
” Me and her have VERY different opinions on everything. Even things they should have been working on before we got engaged: religion, how we thought about money, where to live. At every planning meeting, there was always a discussion about one of those topics. We had a meeting one afternoon to finalize design details. The shit hit the fan when (and very odd) we were discussing where the aisle would go and how the bride would enter. I literally went ballistic over which set of doors the bride would come in. It was strange and once the fight started, there was no stopping it. One time my mother sat between us at the head of the table like a divorce attorney would just start shaking her head. We went back and forth arguing and my mother was always there. She was beside herself and would always call me a mama’s boy. I repeatedly called her spoiled and she took the ring off and threw it so hard and fast that I am surprised she didn’t hurt me. She got up and said it’s over. Walked out. I had to go after her, calm her down then go talk to her stupid ass father. This happened like five times to me. It was a toxic relationship from the beginning and it was very sad that they went as far into the planning as we did. We fought over every wedding detail too. If she wanted pink cake, I wanted chocolate. If she wanted a ballroom, I wanted a barn.”
It was very strange to have a groom that was so set on what HE WANTED for HIS wedding. Most couples refer to it as “our” wedding. I know this would be a disaster. “His last parting words to me were” Ohh and she sucks in bed and not in a good way.”
Later that night I was telling my boy skinny Pete but all of this stress I have been having lately. When I mentioned that she was indifferent to sex. Oh Pete went on a tangent.
“So my new hot black girlfriend is causing my grief but getting sex from her is worse than trying to stop drinking.. I am motherfuckin tired for all that foreplay shit when I come back to the crib and actually wants some. Ya Know? Then she keeps on saying don’t touch the hair. This gotta last and shit. I found out that when my girl gets her hair done odds of me getting pussy go down for like a damn week. She don’t even wanna sleep. She will sleep standing the mother fuckin up like a damn zombie. One time when I was fuckin her doggie I accidentally reached for her hair and she stopped and bitched slapped my skinny ass across the damn room. I learned that if you fuck with a black woman’s hair she will kick your damn ass. Learned that shit the hard way.”
“I am thirty three years old and my body is weary and tired from work a lot. I cannot fuck my girlfriend when she actually wants some for like 45 minutes. I can’t do it like I used to. She says I am going to go and get a young man. I say go ahead please do. Hell I will watch. Who the fuck fucks for forty five minutes anyway? What am I trying to fuckin prove here to her anyway? It don’t take all night to get an orgasm. I say three minutes that’s all. All I got for her. If she don’t bust a nut by the time I get mine she fresh out of fuckin luck. Three minutes…maybe three and a half on a good day. But thats a long time. Think one round of a heavyweight boxing match. I tell her stop all that hollering and maoning so we can go to sleep. You hear me ABQ?. I’m tired…a guy only can go so long.”
“ She asks me to put my mouth on her but when I ask she copes a big ass attitude. A guy should not have to give hints that he wants his dick sucked. I am not directing planes here. Always calling me a selfish someamabitch. She tells me either both lanes of the highway or no lanes. I am like what? Half the time she does not even know what she is doing down there with me. Some guys would say that is enough and its alright. Not me I make her stay down there cause she gotz to learn how to do it right. It is an art form to sucking dick and she is in remedial school. Then she looks at me when she is doing the deed. I do not know what to say to her…what you are doing a good job? Just close your eyes and keep it up. When my vanilla liquid comes out you know you passed the motherfuckin test!
“Damn is all I can say. Old Bridezilla probably wants 3 minutes and her fiancée wants to go for like half an hour.” I tell Pete.
“I aint like you man I aint gotz no anaconda on me and can fuck a girl for hours till she sore. I aint got girls knocking at my door at night. Or my phone blowing up like that damn Lady GagGa song.
Two days later bridezilla dad paid me a visit.
“Do you have my cashier’s check? I also accept Visa and Mastercard but definitely not American Express.” I repeat my payment lines again.
He name is Michael and he is five foot seven at best, dark hair and brown eyes but he gives me this look. Like he is looking down at ABQ. There are three things you do not want to do take ABQ’s tequila, Cheetos or look down on him. I back four steps away thinking what he just did to me. That look meant he wanted to do something to ABQ. That shiz aint never gonna fuckin happen. So I backed up even more. Started to dance and said this. “Go ahead then…bust a move.” “Bust a motherfuckin goddamn move on me.”
To not be too graphic here with her fifty something year old bald headed father lets just say some furniture was moved. I knocked the fuck out of him. He was on my office floor crying in pain. He tried to pause but even pausing when crying hurt him some more. He was able to get these horrible words out.
“I am a retired US Marshall.”
So I snapped and fucked him up till he could not talk; he was all asssed up. The straight and narrow who just lite his guy up took a bad turn for the worse. ABQ was scared at what he just did. But sat my ass back down in my chair and opened up a bottle of tequila looking at my handiwork. I gave him a nasty tune up and wailed on that piece of crap. But after my third shot of patron realized I just fucked up and my days of a wedding planner were coming to an end. US Marshall? Fuck?
As I walked out I flipped open my second cell phone and dialed Paltel my lawyer. I knew where I was heading I needed to unwind at a strip club very bad. Or I needed some hot sex or both. Was gonna be a long night for the ole ABQ.
Stay tuned for Episode two as it gets worse for ABQ
“Assassin’s Creed aint so bad”
“Assassin’s Creed aint so bad”
