Tag Archives: ellagangsta ellagangsta

Ma girl crush/Oranges + men = 1 (or how ima sharing the secret to eternal youth with ya’ll)

ellagangstaextensions

ellagangstaextensions

So, still cold in ma hood it appears – no surprises there. Harsh reality galore. Luckily enough I’ve got a new crush to keep me warm these days…. Her name is Yvonne and she is pretty and lovely and inspiring and just… hmmm, what’s the word I’m lookin’ fo here?

A M A Z I N G.

Kinda funny story actually, I first met her in da elevator at work, and she’s always lookin’ so fresh, so clean (as ma bros in Outkast would word it), and she is always supa-lovely and happy. So yep, become one of ma lil’ highlights of ma days, to see- and interact with this broad in da elevators… so naturally a crush developed. Images of her constantly Flickers in ma head-kinda-thang. Which is un ultra-nice aspect of ma ultra-exciting life. Anyhoo, was tellin’ ma boss-crush, (which happens to be ma boss, who I still have no chance in hell with… but hey, still coolio to have two crushes in the one building I spend most of ma days in FTWWW), about this amazing woman. I described both her-, and ma feelings towards her, and he goes, “C’MON lil’ gangsta – don’t you know who that is?” I responded, a bit perplexed, I must add, “NO.” I mean, sure she looked familiar in some ways, but just thought it’s cause she’s so lovely and beautiful and I felt as if we had some sort of connection, and that is why da good ol’ familiar feeling came creepin’ on unda ma wanna-be-in-da-sun-all-da-time-and-therefore-black-skin… Anyhoo, turns out she is Miss fucking Universe…!!!! In Sweden-town we only ever had three Miss Universes:

1955 – Hillevi Rombin

1966 – Margareta Arvidsson

1984 – Yvonne Ryding

So guess who ma Misses U is? Lucky #3 muttafukkas! And I belive there is an explanation to her ultra-supa-extraordinare-freshness – the secret to eternal youth perhaps perhaps – she now works with her own skincare line. What can I say, CLEARLY IT WORKS.

Apart from crushing ma crushes, I’ve also been crushin’ fruit in ma kitchen of late. Tonite when I got home I went on a mission to make massive amounts of smoothies, involving a bunch of fruit (duh). Basically lotsa celery, apples, kiwis etc., (won’t go into too much detail as this is no fucking food-blog – gangsta remember…!), but I must mention that it involved nothing less than 7 blood oranges and 7 regular oranges. I do believe the regular oranges were Spanish, not sure bout the origin of da blood ones.

To think of it, I kinda treat, and think of oranges the very same way I treat, and think of men. Don’t care much bout the origin – if they taste good I’m happy to put ‘em in ma mouth. Sometimes they may look a bit off… and then I usually politely refuse… or I still go for it, but then end up in an awkward spitting-out-situation, which is not healthy for anyone’s self-confidence, neither orange, nor man… also makes me feel a bit sicklish, so in general that is not something I’d recommend to maself, or anyone else for that matter. But ya, origin is neva an issue when it comes to me. To think of it, oranges and men do have lotsa things in common:

For one, there is the issue of seed(s), and there is also the fact that both oranges and men tend to smell very good, amongst a wide range of other shared attributes and qualities. Basically, I like oranges and men a lot, for many different, mutual reasons.

But alrite alrite, bit of a classic off-the-topic-scenario happening here… As you were: Fruit. So yeah, turns out I left my smoothie bottles, I need for ma smoothie machine, at work, so now ima stuck in a serious fruit-salad-gone-wrong-massacre in ma lil’ kitchen, (this funnily enough makes me think of one of ma ex hubbies, who strangely enough isn’t *Moroccan. We used to call him Fruity. Hens the ex-factor when it comes to him in particular). (*Even though I tend to not focus on origin of ma men and/or oranges, most of ma ex-hubbies are Moroccan, since I happened to marry a bunch of ‘em in less than 24 hours… blogged bout that one –  do yo homework homie).

But yes, plenty’o fruit in ma kitchen tonite, deffo some sorta party goin’ on. I should probs not be rude, and instead go on and join it, while it’s still fresh (if ima lucky it’ll be as fresh as ma Miss U).

For those of yos who’re into ellagangstaextensions, there’s a good one today, I will no doubt fall asleep pondering bout how I’d possibly be able to reveal all ma insecurities on ma tiny amounts of skin – not so much space, and epic amounts of inc is ,indeed, a challenge I must face one of these days.

Ultra-exciting life much? da peeps ask me from time to time. “Hellz yeah, ultra-exciting galore“, is ma humble response. Stay tuned.

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A fist in ma mouth (or how I bring da P to da Party)

Image

So, been a while. Plenty’o reasons for that one, but mainly thought ma blog was somewhat not an appropriate item in da wake of the passing of a legend and inspiration of our time. Considering he spent 28,42% of his life in prison, and still achieved what he did,,, yup. Not much to say. Glad he stayed around for as long as he did.

So YES, gotta lot to cover here, so gonna return to the “points-format” I efficiently tend to use in these situations. Ready? Here we go – ellagangsta style naturally:

–  There was a storm in Stockers this week, kinda nasty. Yup, “Sven” was creeping all ova da city, like an oldish, retardo force of nature. Hit ya in da face like… Hmmm, well, a real force. Much unlike Miley C. So ya. It also happened to be ma very much beloved father’s name-day. Swedish father I have. Naturally his name is Sven. No fucking surprises right there, (or anywhere to be honest). So this storm I had in ma face was named after ma dad, since the particular storm hit us at da exact same time last year. And last year, on the very same day, was also ma father’s name-day… WOAH. Epic huge galore coincidence? Or… Wait for it.. Wait fo it some more… No more waiting! Is da Swedish climate becoming as predictable as its habitants? Ugh. Very scary, boring thought. Predictable even when being unpredictable = boring.

–  Ok, some more funnish stuff. Had a party at work on Friday. Was some good times, and I DID indeed introduce ma homies to ma one and only state of the art party trick. YES. I did put ma fist in ma mouth. I think everyone had a great nite, and particularly enjoyed the segment where my fist was IN MA MOUTH. Epic hawtness right there fo sho.

– Met up with DA girl I met last week again (am I betting for the other team these days one may wonder?). And we went out to an extra shady hood part of Stockers – man, it was ROUGH to say the least – to this debatable party. It was a bit of a dangerous situation. But we did make it through, and had a blast, while barely surviving.

–  Also, some laundry action (gangsta or not, still live in Sweden town). For the record, I washed ma shower curtain today, so now ma ultra clean self will be even more ultra clean – FTWWW. Gangsta style no doubt.

–  Went to a skateboard competition yesterday, was fucking awesome. Haven’t been a part of that community for a while… and was pretty cool how time pretty much have been standing still. Everything was exactly the same. Loved it bt. Sweden’s got some amazing skating talent, fo sho.

–  Naturally I did put some sushi items in ma mouth on several occasions since I last communicated  with you, tonite was extra good, cause I went to da place where they have two diffo kinds of miso soup. #saynomore

–  Also, this one goes out to all yo pervs out there, it’s almost become custom, me blogging in bed. But keep in mind, I’m still in Sweden-town, and it’s freezing… so, hawt in all da pervie-wrong ways. Will keep you posted and let you know if I ever take ma clothes, including the double layers of socks, off, fo sho.

– Now I’m gonna go fall asleep, pondering bout why it is that Ludacris has absolutely no hoes in Swedish area codes. Swedish women have come a long way. Clearly.

Guess yo probs predicted Ima ultra-excited bout ma ultra-exciting life right bout now. A predictable fact/educated guess that’s da opposite to boring. Stay tuned.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

How I infiltrated the Swedish police force… :

It was all very simple. I decided I was gonna sleep in a bed cupboard owned by a Swedish police officer. This is indeed a perfect, (and, might I add), very clever way of achieving Swedish police force infiltration galore. Naturally this involves receiving massive amounts of Swedish police documentation in THE mail (that’s right bitches, mail still exists – OFFLINE ). From time to time I’ll pick this documentation UP, and look at it – if that’s not infiltrating the Swedish police force, I don’t know what is?

All this Swedish-police-force-intelligence I receive in my mail, and into my brain while in my bed cupboard, is very much the opposite to the gangsta-hood I come from, and  in some ways I feel privileged, like I’ve been given a second chance – an amazing opportunity –  the opportunity to get outta da hood, to be a part of something bigger than me – bigger than all of us perhaps?

Thing is though, it’s fucking boring. Will give me a bad sleep at it’s best. So yup. I’ve decided to infiltrate less, and to just….. wait for it…. EXFILTRATE MORE!!! Also, here is an image of an amazing bonfire/firework sesh I went to tonight – good times had by all, to say the least (of course the Swedish police force showed up, no surprises there – I clearly know what they’re up to by now…). YUP, I have an ultra-exciting life. Stay tuned.

Bonfire-firework party?

A bonfire and fireworks = party.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Advertisements
%d bloggers like this: