Tag Archives: life

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.

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THE SPIDER THAT ALMOST KILLED MY FATHER ALSO ALMOST KILLED AN EXPENSIVE HORSE (OR HOW BLACK CAVIARS’ BRO IS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE)

THE SPIDER THAT ALMOST KILLED MY FATHER ALSO ALMOST KILLED AN EXPENSIVE HORSE (OR HOW BLACK CAVIARS’ BRO IS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE)

So about 5 years ago ma beloved master of the universe father was in good ol’ Aussie town and got bitten by a white tail spider. However, he somehow did not realize this till he got to Bangers (AKA Bangkok), and he only survived due to the strong meds he received back in the very north of Sweden (don’t ask me how he travelled around half the world dying, that’s just how he rolls basically). Anyhoo, there’s right now an outrage in Australia, cause Black Caviar’s bro (Black Caviar is a 5 million dollar race horse, and Black Caviar’s bro, Jimmy, is a 2-year old, money-making-factory-in-da-making) has been bitten by one of these nasty-ass spiders too! And he’s barely making it. HOLD UP! The latest news just came in, and I quote: “Jimmy developed major complications during treatment. Prognosis 50/50 but he is receiving great care, including overseas consultants”.
In ma world this tragic scenario can only result in two outcomes:
Scenario 1: Jimmy dies, and therefore ma dad is stronger than a horse (AN EXPENSIVE HORSE TOO!!!)
Scenario 2: Jimmy survives, but ma dad’s still stronger, due to the fact he did not seek help from overseas consultants (semi-contradicting maself here, since he got bitten in Oz, and received meds in the most northern parts of Sweden, but hey – he still travelled the world dying, AND it’s my blog!), and he is therefore stronger than a horse (AN EXPENSIVE HORSE STILL!!!)
So apart from having a father, in fact proven by science to be stronger than a horse, I can also declare that I do indeed spend too much time in elevators (will go more into details on that one at a later stage – bet you can’t wait to hear what I get up to in elevators), and that I’m, in fact, having some blood-bro love in ma life tonight. One of ma actual brothas from the SAME motha is visiting (AKA a blood-bro). And we are, quite naturally, havin’ a BLAST (just look at the gangsta/beiber/terrorist photo). My life is almost more ultra-exciting than eva. Stay tuned.
Oh, and here’s the link if yo wanna read more bout Black Caviar’s blood-bro.http://www.theage.com.au/sport/horseracing/black-caviars-5m-halfbrother-fighting-for-life-20131114-2xhpk.html

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