Monica is…digesting marketing ploys.

I came across a few advertisements over the weekend, some marketing geniuses thought were mighty compelling:


Nothing says classy like a Looney Tunes character around your neck. It was in my boyfriend’s Playboy magazine featuring Seth Rogen. Need I say more?


I’m a little intrigued about this one, only because I have thick hair & I kinda hate dealing with it. Although I would hardly think a hair salon in a Korean strip mall would make a dream come true. A bag of money, yep…now that’s the kinda desparate stuff I dream about.


This one has a damn easel & a stupid poster for the simple. Granted this was from a “sale” that I attended with a friend & boyfriend at the LA Convention Center. It claimed “super low prices” on electronics. Needless to say we were duped, 20 bucks were sacrificed in the process. The crowds were atrocious. I feel ashamed, since we genuinely thought there were deals to be had. I needed a camera. I am a dumbass.

Monica is…aging.


Its Saturday. Its my birthday. I actually hate birthdays. I have death flu, still. I guess I deserve it for hating birthdays. I was supposed to go on a mini trip with my boyfriend and the band he’s in, but this plague has continued to kick my ass, & sadly I hear that RiRi & Chris Brown are back together. Why? As if Chris Brown’s career hasnt completly burned itself already, now hers too. I decided to shift the rage I had for him to her. Dumbass. Here in the ghetto, especially at the E-Z motel, I hear somebody getting their ass kicked at least 3 times a week. Its not a shock anymore. It usually involves the same people. My favorite by far is ironically a Caribbean couple. The cheating husband probably doesn’t come home & at around 3am the screaming wife drives into the parking lot, gets out of the car and calls out to him to “get your muthafuckin ass down from the whore”. He proceeds to come down the stairs, from a grime-infested sex fest with one of these women that seriously look like they’ve been run over several times. Okay a million times. Skeezy on the real. They scream & at each other for what seems like hours while my boyfriend & I lay in bed, with the motel light shining in our sleepless eyes. No I haven’t been out all night, but I have to lie to co-workers, to mask the unrelatable circumstances as to why my eyes look like shit. Yep, thats how we roll on Western avenue.