Identity Crisis

Achtung: This little tidbit that I'm about to share is totally unrelated to what I will be discussing later....

My car keeps running hot all the time, so I'm changing it's name from "Whiteboy" to "Just Blaze".

Now to begin with the topic at hand......

I really think I'm going to change my email, blog, and t-shirts from saying anything remotely close to or alluding to "Diva". Why? Because err'body wants to be a diva nowadays. Just like err'body wants to be a bitch. A friend of mine would tell me all the time "All women aren't Divas." He was right. Some women are chickenheads, skanks, skezzers, hoes, wanton, evil, etc... However, may of these women truly think they're a Diva when in fact the truth is they ain't anywhere close. Could it be that the requirements for being a Diva have been loosened? With this and other questions in mind, I beganto do a little soul searching of my own and it led me to the ulitimate question:

Am I truly a Diva?

Well, today I will answer this question for the two people and the dog that accidentally turned on his owner's computer, miraculously did a Google search and found my site reading my blog. The answer is..............yes, no, yes, no, yes...

No. (Y'all liked how I had y'all anticipating and stuff!)

In my opinion a true Diva is a woman's woman. She can make the rain fall without a single cloud in the sky, because in her words she's "just that damn good". She makes heads turn without even making noise, because her presence is so strong (her presence people, not her smell). A true Diva has to have things done her way, regardless of the circumstance that my threaten it from happening. She's always on point - all the time, so you will never catch her slipping. A Diva's got more class than a Georgia State University history professor (I know it's lame, but Monica's hubby will probably think it's funny because he's lame anyway). I wouldn't go as far as saying that she's extra feminine, but you can tell that she's a woman that most women wish they could be like.

I, on the other hand am not.

I'm far from a Diva. Always have and probably always will. I am a true tomboy at heart. I'm far from classy, even downright ghetto at times. I guess I called myself a Diva because I like shocking people. They think they're getting one thing and then I come in with the uppercut and fool all of their asses. To me it's fun to think of my boyish and extemely silly ass as a Diva even though I'm the total antithesis of one. I like making self appear to be something that I'm not, like for instance, being professional (yep, catch me on the downstroke at work and if I answer the phone, you might get a "nigga what'chu want?" instead of "Good afternooon and all that blah, blah, professional ettiquette shit). Anyway, I've just decided that it's in my best interest to just be good 'ol Ree-Ree. The around the girl that can get drunk with the niggas, blow smoke in niggas eyes (note: I do not smoke the essence just an occasional cheap cigar and bidis), and surprise people when I wear something other than my white tee (I'm just kidding).

I've tried to be Diva-fied and it failed miserably. It was like I had fallen into a pile of manure and people were just standing around laughing at my clumsy ass. I've realized that I don't have what it takes. Unfortunately, they don't have classes on how to become a Diva, so, from this point on I'm just going to be me. However, I don't want my daughter to grow up and think that it's okay to act like a nigga when you're supposed to be a lady. I'm gonna have to work real hard at making her into a lady because Lord knows her daddy isn't going to be around to give her some of his helpful hints, with his bitch ass. Oooops! I shouldn't have said that *shaking head* (if you watch the Dave Chappelle Show, then you should know who said that).

Oh well, to all the other Divas in the world, I just want to say that I'm going miss being one of the many underserving women who touted Divadom. May a heel break off of your new pair Rainbow 5-inch stilletto sandals, a track fall out of your supposed $1000 fusion weave do ( in actuality you only paid Shaneka down the street $50 in EBT purchases for a quick weave), and also may your imitation Wet and Wild mascara run like a runaway slave.

I'm done. The Diva Chronicles will be no more.............