You really have no idea what you are missing if you aren’t on the Twitter… Twitter gives me fodder for my fire day after day. I can’t make this stuff up, I truly can’t.
Last night’s fuckery began with the infamous porn star and all around general waste of a perfectly available vaginal opening Kim Kardashian exposing us to her ignance via a tweet stating that she was making a… *cough cough* “soul food” meal for “her man.” SMH. I just can’t with this black hole of a snatch. But I digress.
As if the tweet wasn’t plain old stupid enough, she had the unmitigated audacity to post a picture of the struggletastic “soul food” plate on Instagram. The usual #strugglemeal hashtags ensued (#struggleplate #thatplate, and so on…). Well, I thought it was hilarious, if not even slightly offensive. First of all Kim, how condescending do you think it is to say you are cooking a “soul food” meal for your “big Black buck” which is how some construed it (by reposting the tweet in an edited version containing the words, “AND I’M BLACK Y’ALL” a la CB4. (BTW, if you don’t know what the comedy magic of CB4 is, kill yourself expeditiously. Or just go find it on the Netflix. *shrug*).
Not only that bullshit, but she had the unflinching gall to call herself the “Hermes of Soul Food.” WTF does that even MEAN??? People who cook REAL soul food would NEVER say some lunacy like that. They wouldn’t HAVE to. #ThatPlate would speak for itself with no need for out-of-place embellishments.I mean, it’s an excellent point made by my vanilla Twitter boo @Blunted215 (go check him out, he’s funny as fuck); you don’t see me dating Italian men talkin about, “I’m about to cook my boo some spaghet’ and gravy!” I’m not dating a Korean man talkin about, “Look babe!!! I made bibimbap and bulgogi!” (Oh calm down, I watch a lot of cooking shows and I gets my burn ON in the kitchen. I am a connoisseur of world foods… but would I make it and call myself the “Versace of Asian delicacies” or something dumb like that? FUCK NO. Who in the hell? Oh. Wait. Kim “I-need-to-be-validated-by-the-fact-that-I-can-fry-chicken-for-the-Black-men-I-date” K does.)
So anywho, the struggle on that plate was obvious and apparent to all who saw it far and wide. The two tiny wings looked like she had cut them off of a fucking quail and oven fried them in cornflakes and funnel cake batter. Jesus himself said a prayer for the dry mac-and-cheese mixture that looked more like she cut up hunks of cheddar and nuked them with some overcooked macaroni noodles. Don’t eem get me started on that atrocity that was supposed to be stuffing (and how often do we have stuffing on a soul food platter??? Oh. Yeah. DURING THE HOLIDAYS ONLY. SMMFH.). Then there was a pile of greenery which I can only assume were string beans, and pray to the heavens were not supposed to be collard greens in any form. Oh. And cornbread. Which appeared to be the most appetizing thing on that plate, but I still wouldn’t trust it…
So now… picture that entire struggle in your mind. I was in tears in ways I can’t even express to y’all. I haven’t laughed that hard in days. (Mind you, I laugh at damn near anything, so this was an over the top kind of moaning guffaw that I’m sure my neighbors probably mistook for me doing inappropriate things with a bull moose.)
Then, the real fuckery began! Suddenly, there were MEN in my TL who I have great respect for, DEFENDING Kim K and her plate of shame!!! My ire began to rise, y’all know how Diva gets. I’m reading bullshit like, “You hoes mad at Kim but she cooks for her man. What do you hoes do?” and “At least Kim is taking care of her man.” The collective whine went up like a smoke signal in the Colorado Mountains. Somehow, the usual Twitter ritual of struggle meal slander had become uncool in the wake of Kim K’s entrance into the struggle plate arena. Now men were PISSED because Kanye was apparently getting meals marinated in ignorance prepared for him and these hungry bastards were starving. Poor saps…
But then I started to REALLY THINK beyond the idiocy I was reading… These fools weren’t rooting for Kim K or her plate. It was a condemnation of women everywhere who were not “taking care of” their men. I mean, that heffa who “cooked” the #strugglealfredo last year wasn’t getting defended. She tweeted a pic of a chipped bowl filled with ramen noodles, ripped pieces of processed cheese slices and what we assumed were ripped up chicken nuggets but Lawd knows what it truly was…
But where were these men saying, “Well at least she cooks for her man!” Nope, there was none of that. They slandered that poor child so bad she made her account private. Her mentions were all Baghdad everything.
But here we have crazy as a loon ass Kim K showing us pics of these two pathetic winglettes and a hunk of cornbread that was probably straight from the bakery aisle at the market and we are supposed to run to our kitchens and start whipping up culinary concoctions to rival the Iron Chef to prove our undying devotion? Ayo. FOH, fam.
I contend that because that hoe is rich, A HOE, and has some giant panty cakes on her, you fools have lost your ability to reason. First off, if I ever served any man I was seeing a plate that looked like that, I would be afraid he would take me out to pasture and have me shot. Listen, if your woman isn’t cooking for you then guess what? Either she CAN’T cook or… she don’t bang with you like that. Never once have I been with any man (and remember, I used to be a serial monogamist with my longest relationship lasting for several years) and really loved him, but didn’t cook him a fucking meal. And none of that struggle shit. Ask anyone who has ever eaten my cooking, I’m fucking fantastic at it and I really enjoy it. I live to feed the people I love and watch the comforted smiles form on their lips when they’ve eaten something I made and feel fulfilled. That is LOVE. Now, am I saying that it couldn’t have been love that Kim showed by TRYING to cook for her man? Not at all. Feeding someone is love, period.
What I AM saying is that all the angry men who jumped to Kim’s defense last night were misplacing their anger. Don’t be mad at us ladies because we thought that shit was funny. IT WAS. Y’all saw #thatplate. Be angry at your damn selves for picking these women who have no home-making skills whatsoever (but have fabulous hair and shoe collections and don’t own not a one greens-cooking pot). Be mad because you picked the shorty with the fat ass instead of the one who had amazing conversation and a mean biscuit-baking game. That fat ass may keep you warm in the winter and your dick hard all day, but you cannot survive on ass alone. Stop being mad at REAL women because you picked the shitty ones.
Now listen, ladies… you do this shit too, but this post isn’t about you so cool your jets… but I’m getting to you slores soon too… you have been warned.
That being said, if you have a man who treats you as the queen you are, RESPECT THAT. Make that man a home-cooked meal, buy him a bottle of Henny and let him watch the game in peace while you go watch Real Hoes of Hoeville. By the time the game is over, he’ll be drunk, fat, happy and ready to give you some fantastic finagling of your lady parts.