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Dear Ashanti,
Let me begin by offering you a heartfelt congratulations on your semi- successful comeback efforts. You are certainly looking better than ever, and it's a joy to come across your photos on various urban gossip blogs, etc. As for your music, well.. it's no worse than your other albums, i suppose. And although I can't say I am a fan, I really respect your sticktuitiveness.
Your career, however, is not the purpose of this letter. I have been feeling the urge to write this for some time, and after an afternoon of cybersurfing, I could no longer hold back. So, here goes.
Ashanti- I want to bone your man.
Don't get me wrong- I always thought you guys made the most adorable couple, and I continue to. You're height compatible, both gorgeous people, and despite the fact that I know neither of you personally, I feel like I understand why you get along.
But your man... oh, that wonderful man of yours. Thoughts of that full, sexy mouth and washboard stomach keep me awake at night, fantasizing about derrty, derrrty things.
Ashanti, if I ever got half the chance, if we happened to be in the same room and you turned your head for even a fraction of a second, you would turn back to discover that I had done a gymnast's tumble triple- flip and landed crotch- first on your boyfriend's face, arms proudly splayed as if I'm a shoo- in for the gold.
'Shanti girl, you have to know that I am usually not the kind of girl who covets other women's men. But your other half- well, he makes me forget my good Christian upbringing. Yes, his Sean John photo shoot officially made me lose my religion. Just a glimpse of that sexy, muscled winged back, or that perfect V.... I make plans to do things I would have to apologize to my parents for knowing about. I begin to get creative in my mind. I want to lay your boyfriend's naked, glistening body down and do a flare going into a body glide going into a reverse airbaby on top of him. I want to pull out those little sticks with the balls on the end and beat on his tummy with them like a xylophone. I want to have a doctor install a flip- top head on me like the little cartoon dude from the Reach toothbrush commercial.
Now, you don't strike me as a punk. And you certainly don't look like the type to turn the other cheek and just hand up all that juicy goodness to whoever wants it. But I will say this- that's an ass- whooping I would happily take. And I wouldn't even swing back. After all, if all goes the way I want it to, then nobody deserves an ass- whooping more than me, from you. NOBODY!!!
So, in closing I would like to say that I don't envy your position. Because I cannot be the only woman willing to risk face scratches and a black eye just to run their tongue across your man's... anything. It must be a challenging life for you, and for this I am truly sorry. Not sorry enough to not throw my lovebox at him like he's wearing a catcher's mitt, though.
Sincerely Yours,
Machinko
Let me begin by offering you a heartfelt congratulations on your semi- successful comeback efforts. You are certainly looking better than ever, and it's a joy to come across your photos on various urban gossip blogs, etc. As for your music, well.. it's no worse than your other albums, i suppose. And although I can't say I am a fan, I really respect your sticktuitiveness.
Your career, however, is not the purpose of this letter. I have been feeling the urge to write this for some time, and after an afternoon of cybersurfing, I could no longer hold back. So, here goes.
Ashanti- I want to bone your man.
Don't get me wrong- I always thought you guys made the most adorable couple, and I continue to. You're height compatible, both gorgeous people, and despite the fact that I know neither of you personally, I feel like I understand why you get along.
But your man... oh, that wonderful man of yours. Thoughts of that full, sexy mouth and washboard stomach keep me awake at night, fantasizing about derrty, derrrty things.
Ashanti, if I ever got half the chance, if we happened to be in the same room and you turned your head for even a fraction of a second, you would turn back to discover that I had done a gymnast's tumble triple- flip and landed crotch- first on your boyfriend's face, arms proudly splayed as if I'm a shoo- in for the gold.
'Shanti girl, you have to know that I am usually not the kind of girl who covets other women's men. But your other half- well, he makes me forget my good Christian upbringing. Yes, his Sean John photo shoot officially made me lose my religion. Just a glimpse of that sexy, muscled winged back, or that perfect V.... I make plans to do things I would have to apologize to my parents for knowing about. I begin to get creative in my mind. I want to lay your boyfriend's naked, glistening body down and do a flare going into a body glide going into a reverse airbaby on top of him. I want to pull out those little sticks with the balls on the end and beat on his tummy with them like a xylophone. I want to have a doctor install a flip- top head on me like the little cartoon dude from the Reach toothbrush commercial.
Now, you don't strike me as a punk. And you certainly don't look like the type to turn the other cheek and just hand up all that juicy goodness to whoever wants it. But I will say this- that's an ass- whooping I would happily take. And I wouldn't even swing back. After all, if all goes the way I want it to, then nobody deserves an ass- whooping more than me, from you. NOBODY!!!
So, in closing I would like to say that I don't envy your position. Because I cannot be the only woman willing to risk face scratches and a black eye just to run their tongue across your man's... anything. It must be a challenging life for you, and for this I am truly sorry. Not sorry enough to not throw my lovebox at him like he's wearing a catcher's mitt, though.
Sincerely Yours,
Machinko
