I Got Yo Umbrella!!

Oooh, Rihanna get on my nerves! So, I had this bright idea, right? I was gonnna cook some dinner and invite Rihanna to come over. Beyonce decided she couldn't come back after Jay got pissed cause she was playing in my head the last time they came over for Spades. So, Rihanna was my next choice. She's fierce, too, but not in the same league as Bee. Anyhoo, I thought I'd give her the privilege of having some of my famous seafood gumbo, ya know. Maybe have her sing us a coupla songs and talk about how fantastic she is and stuff, right? No harm, no foul, yea? Unh hunh.

I shoulda taken it as a bad sign when she asked me if we maintained a constant temperature in our "villa", cause she needed a certain air quality wherever she went. WTF? I thought to myself, "um, ooookaaaaay." So anyway, she came over and the whole time she complained. It ain't my fault Chris Brown had to drive all the way back home cause he wasn't invited. Ain't nobody tell her to bring his azz! I mean he's nice to look at, but I wasn't trying to have Jeremy drooling over him the whole time he was here. By the way, it took Jeremy about 10 minutes to stop cursing me out and banging his head against the wall after Chris skateboarded off. I mean, really! Chris Brown ain't even legal yet!! He is cute, though.

So, I tried to get Rihanna to get us some tickets for her concert tour and stuff, but she held on to that grudge the whole time she was here, pretty much. That small mirror she had attached to her dress sleeve was annoying, too. Literally every 2 minutes it would look like she was checking the time, when she was actually checking herself out, licking her lips and winking lewdly. She asked me where the humidifier was and why it was so dayum hot in here. I mumbled something under my breath so she couldn't hear it, but ya girl was testing me. I had an ulterior motive for inviting her over, namely tickets to see her perform in Australia, so I was trying to be on my p's and q's.

After we drank a coupla martinis, I went and threw the shrimp, crab and oysters into the gumbo pot and let that cook for a little while. During the whole first half of the evening, she was BO-ring! Between her and that mirror, she didn't really need anybody else's company, I guess. Eventually, she took it upon herself to have two martinis at a time! So after the 6th one, she went off on her "ella" tangent. Everything was "ella, ella, ella"! I'm like "you want some ice cream for dessert?" She's all "as long as you have vanella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh". I asked "You really like Chris, hunh?" She responded "He's a really nice fella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh". Ugh. I woulda paid top dollar for a Tums.

So, I was in the kitchen plating the food and she wobbled in screeching her latest hit at the top of her lungs, "but it's over now, go on and take a bow". By this time, I've started a slow simmer inside. She sidled up to the side of the stove, dancing around and asked what is was that was smelling like ass in here. I silently dug in my pocket and offered her a TicTac. She rolled her eyes as she leaned up against the stove. I guess it took a while for the heat to register, because I swear it was at least a minute before she screamed and jumped like she'd just taken a cattle prod up the ass. I damn near dropped the bowl I was filling, she startled me so bad. As the back of her Prada blouse sizzled and flamed, I couldn't help but chuckle. She swatted wildly at her backside, spinning around that kitchen like an idiot. Finally, I got tired of laughing at her, and dashed her with the martini I'd been drinking, and simultaneously stunning her into paralysis. She stared at me in shock. "I was just trying to put the fire out", I said innocently.

Well, I guess she didn't really like the gumbo that much. She was polite, though. She said she'd regurgitated better flavors than what was in that m.f.'in pot! How dare I invite her over to serve her some dog sh*t of that caliber? Did I not know who she was?! She had platinum records, dammit! Beyonce ain't have nuttin' on her!? (Whoa, slow ya roll, sista! I'm thinking). After she finished throwing up, I asked her if she'd like to have another bowl full. She pulled out her 2 way at that point and I guess she musta summoned Chris back, cause 10 minutes later the doorbell rang. As she stormed out the front door, smelling strangely like a chimney sweep, I yelled "So, what's up with those tickets to Australia!?" You know what that ho told me? "I hope you catch Salmonella, ella, ella, ugh, ick, uck." Ooh, it felt so good to see her slip on Chris's skateboard and fall on her ass. He laughed too. That'll teach her to waste my food. Bitch.