My Biggest Fears: Restroom Babies and Breaking Into My Own House

My biggest irrational fear is that I'll get pregnant, but I won't know it until my baby pops out onto the floor of a public restroom. Because of this, I take periodic pregnancy tests even though I'm on The Pill and my husband and I use condoms for back-up. Of course, the tests are always negative and I sleep easier for a few months.

The upside to the surprise childbirth is that you're likely to get your own special on TLC so people can see your story and marvel about how clueless you are. That's one way to get your fifteen minutes of fame. I fear though, that the woman they picked to play me in my toilet birth scene would be more overweight than I imagine myself to be and it would ruin the magic of the moment. Maybe that's my second irrational fear.

My biggest realistic fear is locking myself out of my own house. We have a garage door with a keypad, so this offers some degree of security, provided I remember to leave the side door to the house, inside the garage, unlocked. We don't have a key for that door, you see.

The lockout problem is a bigger issue in the backyard. We also don't have a key for the backdoor, not that it would matter. Who takes their keys out with them when they go into the backyard? My husband and I have locked ourselves out there before. Getting back into the house involves scaling the privacy fence and coming around to the front of the house, using the garage keypad to access the side door, and hoping said door is unlocked. Our fence has a gate, naturally, but it latches on the outside, which is why we have to climb the fence. We are both shorties and cannot reach the latch from the ground in the backyard. Why is the latch on the outside anyway? How does that provide security? I guess that would be a good question for the previous owners of this house.

So basically, if I get trapped in the backyard and don't have my husband to give me a boost over the fence, or the power goes out and I can't get into the garage, I am fucked. If I get fucked, and my birth control fails, I may end up on TLC squeezing a baby out onto a restroom floor.

It's a scary world out there.

Huanying.

I need to quit smoking. I want to quit before I go back to work, which means I have until Wednesday night. I'm sad about this, mostly because I like smoking, but also because I like the store where I buy my cigarettes.

There's a little Stop-N-Rob store just around the corner from my house. I could walk there, but I don't. It's owned by a Chinese woman and (presumably) her daughter. They are very nice and they haven't raised the price of their cigarettes even though every once else has. A pack is still only $4.17; Everywhere else is well over $5. I've thought about asking them about it, but I don't want to spoil a good thing.

I stop there about every other day to buy a pack. I've learned some passable Chinese conversation, along the lines of, "How are you?", "I'm fine", "Thank you", and the like. Where am I going to use my Chinese if I stop going there? I'm going to miss them.

Also, I'm pretty sure they either think I'm a stripper or that I work at the laundry mat next door. I don't know why they would think this, or even why I think they think this, but I do (and they do). So, that's fun. I haven't bothered to correct them. I'm not sure how I would bring it up. My Chinese isn't that good yet.

Feeling Scandalous.

Yesterday, I had my naked body rubbed by a strange man.

I've had several massages before, but the massage therapists were always female. I didn't specifically request females, they just always were. I guess I fell into the assumption that the professional is largely dominated by women. Women don't mind being touched by other women, and men certainly don't mind, so it just kind of works.

Yesterday, I had a massage scheduled at my salon, after my hair appointment. I was waiting, perusing the shampoos, when a young man came up to me and asked me if I was ready. I was a bit confused. I had never seen this man at the salon before. Was his only job to take me back to the massage area and introduce me to my massage therapist? It wasn't until we got back to the massage area that I realized he WAS the massage therapist. Huh. I did not see that coming.

I'm not shy. I don't get embarrassed easily. The idea of a male massage therapist threw me off my game briefly, but I could deal with it. It occurred to me, that a lot of people would not be able to take it in stride. My husband, for one. He's gotten his fair share of professional massages and I know he would not be cool with another dude rubbing him down. I wouldn't call him homophobic, but I think physical contact, outside of a friendly hug, with another dude is pushing it for him.

I also thought of all the women who would be freaked out by this. I have to admit that when I met Wesley (Mr. Massage Therapist) that a million thoughts ran through my head that I normally wouldn't consider. Did I shave my legs? What will he think of my cellulite? Should I leave my underwear on? (I did. I normally do not. I wish I had been cool enough to go totally naked, but I just wasn't.) Damn. Why didn't I wear cuter underwear?

Of course, this wasn't a date. It was an appointment. Wesley and I weren't going to bed. He wasn't even buying me dinner, for crying out loud. But still, as I stood alone in the massage room, removing my clothes, I felt a bit nervous. I wanted to be brave. I hung my bra from the clothing hook, in plain view. I didn't attempt to hide it behind the dress hanging there. I'm a liberated woman. Damn. Why did I wear such a plain, generic bra?

Wesley, of course, was the consummate professional. We chatted a bit at first and I found out he started out in sports medicine. I stifled the urge to make any off-color comments about the situation, although that would generally be my preferred method of relieving my self-consciousness. It only took about five minutes to forget he was a guy and just enjoy my massage. Although, every time his hairy arm brushed my back, my mind screamed, "This man is touching you! He's not your husband!" True, this is the only man in the last ten years, besides my husband, who has touched me so intimately. But like I said, it was professional. Again, I resisted the urge to jokingly ask him if I was getting a happy ending. I'm actually pretty proud of my self-control here.

All in all, it was a good massage. Not the best I've had, but it was decent. I don't have any immediate plans to go back. I have to say, like most married women (I think), I've had thoughts over the years of what it would be like to be touched by a man other than my husband. It was fine, clinical, a little scandalous, but nothing compared to cuddling up with my real man at night.

Random Thoughts

I'm tan. Not just "tan for me" but legitimately tan. I like it. I don't care if I'm courting skin cancer. I get myself checked over once a year by my dermatologist, and skin cancer has a 98% cure rate anyway. (Statistic courtesy of "The Office".) I spent most of my teenage years as a pale-faced semi-goth so I'm enjoying being golden brown. When I'm naked, it looks like I'm wearing a white bikini. My husband likes this.

I'm wearing smaller jeans today. I'm not sure how this happened - I just tried them on because my favorite jeans are dirty. By smaller, I'm talking size 10 instead of 12, so I'm not exactly wasting away Lindsay Lohan style here. I'm not really on a diet, but my TMJ is acting up, so I'm only allowed to eat soft foods. I've taken this to mean brownies, white bread and butter sandwiches and oodles of pasta. Take that Dr. Atkins! (RIP) If this keeps up, I might cancel my appointment with my oral surgeon and have my husband hit me in the jaw with a baseball bat for good measure.

I'm smoking again. I quit last night at 8pm and started again five minutes ago. This is a battle I've fought since I was 17. A lot of smokers start and stop and start again, but the weird thing about me is that when I stop, I stop for years. I just started again 6 months ago. I don't have a good reason other than I like getting extra breaks at work. Plus, a lot of celebrities smoke so that is proof that smoking is super cool.

That's all for now. I might regurgitate some more useless minutiae of my life later.

Getting to know me.

Since I haven't felt inspired (read: pissed off) enough lately to write anything interesting, I'm taking the easy way out. Here's a generic list of questions I found on Al Gore's Internets. Enjoy.

* Do you have any pets?

I have two dogs: a Miniature Pinscher named Fletcher and a Tibetan Spaniel named Lucy. Both were adopted from Pet Pal Rescue in St. Petersburg, FL. In the interest of saving myself as much hassle as possible, I prefer to buy my cars new, but get my pets pre-owned.

* What was the last book you read?

I recently finished the Twilight series of books by Stephanie Meyer. No woman over the age of 18 should ever read these books. All they do is make you long for the lusty, obsessive, angst-filled relationships of your youth. That being said, I'm embarrassed to say I loved them. It's a good thing all my old high school boyfriends have unlisted phone numbers.

* Do you like to cook?

Cooking is high on the list of things I love to do, but don't do often enough. I'm good at it too. (Like other things I love to do, but don't do often enough.)

* What's your favorite food?

I'm a junk food junkie. I love McDonald's and Dunkin Donuts. If I could switch the nutritional content of broccoli and donuts, my life would be perfect.

* Do you have brothers and sisters?

I'm an only child. It's at this point that I always feel the need to point out that I bought my first car myself and paid my own way through college. Everybody always thinks only children are spoiled. Granted, I did get the barbie dream house and the barbie cottage for Christmas one year, but the lavish gift giving didn't continue once my tastes grew more expensive. I do have an unnatural sense of entitlement, but I'm not sure if that's a result of my upbringing or something more innate. Is asshole-ish behavior genetic or environmental? The debate continues.

* Which sport do you like?

I'm not a big fan of sports unless there is money involved. If I'm sitting in a sportsbook in Vegas, I'm a fan of whatever team I'm betting on.

* Have you ever met a famous person?

Not really. I met Dan Cortese when I was 16. He's a D-List celebrity, you can probably google him. He was pretty hot back then. My friends are I went to Saugatuck Beach where he was filming an episode of Beach MTV. I accosted him and demanded he sign autographs and take pictures with us. I'm sure he was thrilled.

* How do you spend your free time?

Plotting world domination from behind my laptop. It's not going all that well.

* What kind of people do you like?

I like people that make me laugh. If you are smart, sarcastic, and have a good sense of humor, I will fall madly in love with you. I don't know where all of these people are hiding, but I would like to meet more of them. Also, if you find me irresistibly charming and hilarious, that helps too.

* Which languages do you speak?

I speak just enough Spanish to convince native speakers that I understand them. This can be a dangerous practice.

* What are you best at?

I'm good at writing pointless articles about my observations on life. Unfortunately, these serve no real purpose other than to amuse myself and my handful of readers. I'd rather be awesome at tennis or something.

* What do you think you will be doing five years from now?

I have no idea. Pontificating on the ridiculous minutiae of everyday life? Oh wait, I'm doing that now.

* Are you a 'morning' or 'night' person?

I'm definitely not a morning person. I don't like to stay up late either though. I probably have a window from about 7:00 pm to 7:15 pm where I feel totally awesome.

* If you knew you could try anything and not fail, what dream would you attempt?

Write a novel, cure cancer, and enter the Miss America pageant.

* Where do you spend most of your money?

Besides bills? Fast food, high heels and prescription medication. Not necessarily in that order.

Damn. Those were pretty boring questions. Note to self: get out more.

My New and Improved Nose

I have known for several years that I needed to get some work done on my jacked-up nose, but it wasn’t until Jennifer Aniston and Cameron Diaz announced that they were having their deviated septums repaired that I could be bothered to do so. The desire to end my continuous sinus pain and be able to give my husband a blow job without having to wear a Breathe Right nasal strip may also have played a part in my reasoning as well.

I feel the need to mention that I did not get any cosmetic work done. Although, that’s not because I’m not vain enough; I just figure that if I’m laying down several grand to make the world a more beautiful place, my nose would probably be pretty far down on the list after my thighs, ass and boobs. (Actually, I like my boobs. But I digress.) No, this surgery was purely for functional reasons, and thus, was covered by my health insurance. I did try to get my ENT (Ear, Nose, and Throat) specialist, who is also a certified plastic surgeon, to slip in a little cosmetic tweaking “while she was in there” but apparently it doesn’t work that way.

Pre-Op

A few days before surgery, I went in for all of my pre-operative paperwork and blood work. Nothing really bothered me until they asked me my religious preference. I told them the truth – that I’m a generic Christian – but part of me wanted to make up some elaborate post death religious rite that might be so inconvenient as to force them to try harder to resuscitate me should the unthinkable happen. Anyway, a few needle sticks later, I was out of there.

Surgery Day

The morning of my operation, my husband brought me to the hospital at 7am so I could hang out, hungry and thirsty, and wait for them to cut me. I got my sexy hospital gown, and Bryan and I watched “Saved by the Bell” reruns from my groovy adjustable bed. Around 9:30am, I was wheeled down the hall to the holding room. Let me mention that it was in this room that I should have gotten the “I don’t give a shit what you cut off” drugs but they never materialized. I’m still a little bitter about this. Big talk from anesthesia guy, but he never delivered. Bastard.

Soon an orderly came in, made some chit chat and started wheeling me down to the operating room. He asked me if this was my first surgery. I affirmed that it was. Then he said, and I am not making this up, “So, we’re popping your cherry today!” Uh, excuse me? At that point, I kind of wanted to look at the chart to see exactly what sort of procedure they had me signed up for. Really, I’m pretty hard to offend, so I laughed it off, but I still made a mental note to check my body over for hickeys when I woke up.

The surgery itself was pretty uneventful, for me anyway. Then again, I was dead to the world, so Dr. Lee could have had one foot on my chest and a crowbar up my nose for all I knew. When I woke up in the recovery room, I felt like a million bucks. Of course, I couldn’t breathe through my nose, as I was wearing a gauze mustache taped to my face and had 3 inch plastic splints up each nostril. But still, I thought to myself, “This surgery stuff is a piece of cake.” I would later realize that those were the drugs talking – drugs that would soon wear off.

At home, I settled into bed, propped up physically with a half dozen pillows, and propped up mentally with a healthy dose of Percocet. I watched talk shows, I ate doughnuts. (Nobody ever accused me of having a weak appetite, post-surgery or not.) I spent the rest of the day dozing, mouth breathing, and having my wonderful husband waiting on me hand and foot. Life was good.

The Aftermath

The next morning, when I woke up, I felt like I had been run over by a Mack truck and dragged for ten blocks. Every muscle in my body screamed in agony with the least little movement. My nose hurt, my head pounded, and I could almost hear the pain laughing at my 5 mg Percocet. Life was not good. I expected some nasal pain. What I did not expect was to feel like the doctors had taken a baseball bat to my unconscious body. I didn’t sign up for this.

The second day was better. I was able to roll over in bed without screaming obscenities. My nose still hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as I would have expected. I was able to remove my gauze mustache since I was no longer leaking bloody mucus onto my 800 thread count sheets.

After a week of mouth breathing and sleeping in unnatural post-surgery positions, I was able to get my nasal splints removed! This was a huge step because the nasal splints and accompanying overgrowth of bloody crust and boogage is what was keeping me from breathing. (By the way, if you ever wondered if there is an official medical term for “booger”, my ENT doctor sadly informed me that there is not.)

I brought my husband along for the splint removal. Partially for moral support and partially because I know he’s squeamish and I wanted to see if he could handle watching the procedure. (If he passed out, I figured I might want to rethink having him in the delivery room should we ever decide to procreate.) In Dr. Lee’s office, I settled into the patient chair while Bryan tried to disappear into the corner. Dr. Lee came at me with 12 inch tweezers and a spelunking helmet and assured me this was not going to hurt. I did not believe her.

As she jammed the tweezers up my nose, I felt some discomfort, but it really wasn’t that bad. But when she pulled them out…I experienced the biggest wave of relief I’ve ever had in my life. It did not hurt, and with the splints came a tidal wave of sinus secretions and gore. It was AWESOME! It was like giving birth through my nose. Removing the second split was just as satisfying. All of a sudden, all that pressure from having junk in a place I generally try to keep junk-free was gone. Then Dr. Lee stuck a little vacuum up my nose and sucked out the rest of the gunk. I can’t stress enough how fulfilling that whole experience was. I would get the surgery again just to experience that sense of relief again. Ok, not really, but it was almost that good.

Epilogue

So, now I can breathe through my nose, and that is good. I highly recommend this surgery to all you mouth-breathers out there. Besides the obvious medical benefits, being able to blow grape-sized clots of blood and mucus out of your nose post-surgery is pretty fucking cool. At least, that was my favorite part. Cheers!

Excuse me, stewardess? I speak "jive".

Just like Barbara Billingsly’s helpful white character in the 1980 comedy film Airplane, I’ve often found myself in a position to translate the urban vernacular (formerly known as jive, sometimes called Ebonics) to my lesser informed caucasian comrades.

Jive, Black English Vernacular (BEV) or whatever you choose to call this urban dialect was initially developed by black protestors in the 1960s in order to plot covert rebellion against “The Man” without being detected. Having their own lingo allowed these underground heroes to communicate effectively, sometimes right under whitey’s nose, without anyone the wiser.

While this country has since made strides in racial equality, BEV remains a valid means of expression, particularly in urban communities. If nothing else, its usage confuses and frightens the white man, particularly when he hears his teenaged children listening to this unfamiliar dialect in their music.

For this reason, I’m providing a service to those who aren’t “down”. I’ll be translating a few popular hip hop songs into Generic White Vernacular (GEV) so that the parents of the world can rest assured that their children are simply enjoying some bumping tunes and not plotting world domination.



Song: Pop, Lock and Drop It
Artist: Huey

[Chorus]
Toot that thang up mami make it roll
[Lovely lady, shake your rear end around while dancing.]
Once you pop pop lock it for me girl get low
[When you find a comfortable position, freeze and bend your knees, getting closer to the floor.]
If your mama gave it to you baby girl let it show
[If you inherited an attractive derriere from your mother, we would like to see it.]
Once you pop lock drop it for me maybe we can roll (oh)
[Perhaps after you complete this dance, we can leave this venue and spend some time getting to know each other.]

Pop lock and drop it [8x]

[Verse 1:]
Baby Huey
Tonight it's gon' be some changes
[Things will change tonight.]
No acting sadity
[Do not act conceited.]
So stop acting and get it clapping
[Stop being so full of yourself and join along in the fun.]
'Cause I'm knowing you feeling me
[I suspect you are interested in me.]
Yeah you cute
[I admit you are attractive,]
But don't let that shit go to your head
[But I would prefer you don’t act conceited.]
'Cause with this cutie won't do
[If there are sexual activities you choose not to engage in with me,]
Pimping another one will
[That’s ok because I can find another woman who will.]
You prepared rocking a skirt
[You are dressed to impress tonight with a lovely skirt,]
And your heels so tall
[And sexy high heels.]
And we ain't with none of that tricking but our bills so tall
[Although we will not fall prey to your womanly wiles, I must admit we do have quite a bit of money.]
I've been peeping you for a while and you're throwing it back
[I have been watching you from afar and I suspect you have been interested in me also.]
If you looking for you balla we got dough in the back
[If you are interested in a man with a lot of money, power, and influence, I have more than you even see here.]
Look your color carmello brown
[Your skin is a rich, caramel brown color,]
And your skin so smooth
[It is smooth and beautiful.]
I'm having fantasies about what you and me can do
[I am indulging myself in sexual fantasies about you.]
And you an undercover freak
[I suspect you enjoy the kinkier forms of sexual relations.]
You probably thinking the same
[I imagine you suspect the same of me.]
I'm seeing light up on your face because you peeping my chain
[You are excited because you notice that I am displaying my wealth through my expensive jewelry.]
And I ain't tryna put you out there as if you a freak
[Make no mistake, I’m not suggesting you are a loose or lascivious woman.]
So don't even take it that way just say you did it for me
[Don’t worry about that. We’ll pretend you only do those kinky things with me because I am special.]
And yeah you probably roll with me 'cause it's money in my pockets
[I imagine you will go home with me because you are interested in my wealth,]
So before then I gotta see you pop lock and drop it
[But before I take you home for some affection, I would like to see you dance a little more.]

[Chorus 1x]

[Verse 2:]
Baby Huey
I ain't gotta be your man
[We don’t have to engage in a long term relationship,]
But I really wouldn't mind
[Although I may be amenable to that.]
We ain't got to talk again I'm just tryna have a time
[If you want to cease contact after this encounter, that’s fine with me.]
If you a balla pulla stack out and smack her on the ayyy
[Hey fellas, if you are wealthy and powerful like me, show her your money and tease her with it!]
Pop locking cock blockas get up out the way
[If you are trying to stop me from making time with this lady, I must ask you to leave.]
Let lil mami get low
[Sweetheart, do that dance again where you bend your knees and squat.]
Give a space let her sweat
[Fellas! Give her some room so she can do her dancing.]
The club turning to Hooters 'cause they shirts is so wet
[The women dancing here are getting so sweaty that their t-shirts are wet. It almost looks like the club “Hooters” where women where tight t-shirts and serve buffalo wings.]
From the window to the wall
[Throughout the entire venue,]
Lil mama showing her thong
[My lady friend is showing her g-string underwear]
The broad freaking herself it's telling me that it's on
[My lady friend is now rubbing herself suggestively and indicating to me that she is ready for a sexual encounter.]
You ready then we can roll I'm telling you we can go
[If you are ready to leave and commence sexual relations, I am also ready.]
I'm thinking if I can handle it the way you make it roll
[I think I can show you a good time based on the skills you are exhibiting.]
You grooving and speeding up
[You are dancing more and more suggestively.]
You right in between us
[You are dancing between my friend and I].
If you a stripteaser then baby don't tease us
[You are being very suggestive; I hope you aren’t just teasing us with no intention of fulfilling our desires.]
At first I thought I was tripping
[Initially, I thought I was mistaken,]
But my vision getting clearer
[But now I can see more clearly.]
You moving that thang around as if you practice in the mirror
[You dance so well, I suspect you practice at home in front of the mirror.]
She doing a new dance
[You are now engaging in a new dance,]
What the next man said
[Another man watching your moves thought you were beginning a new dance.]
I'm like naw she just pop locking on a headstand
[I corrected him by informing him you were just adding some finishing moves to your previous effort.]

[Chorus 1x]

Song: In the Club
Artist: 50 Cent

Go, go, go, go, go, goGo, shorty
[Dance, attractive woman!]
It's your birthday
[It’s a celebration!]
We gon' party like it's your birthday
[We are going to enjoy this evening as if it were your birthday.]
We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday
[We are going to drink Bacardi Rum in celebration.]
And you know we don't give a fuck
[We are not going to let any worries impede our enjoyment]
cause it's not your birthday!
[It’s not really your birthday, just a fun celebration of life!]

[Chorus (2x)]

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
[I’ll be in the dance club, drinking champagne.]
Look mami i got the X ,if you into takin drugs
[Sweetheart, if you enjoy using illegal substances, I have procured some Ecstasy.]
Im into havin sex i aint into makin love
[I’m interested in the physical act of procreating, but not necessarily the emotional involvement generally associated with it.]
So come give me a hug if you into getting rubbed
[If you would like to engage in sexual relations with me, embrace me to let me know.]

[Verse]
When I pull out up front, you see the Benz on dubs
[When I drive my car up to the front of the club, you notice my fancy Mercedes car with it’s custom 20 inch rims.]
When I roll 20 deep, it's 20 knives in the club
[I have 20 other fellows with me; They are armed to protect me in case any violence occurs.]
N*ggas heard I fuck with Dre, now they wanna show me love
[Potentially unpleasant associates are aware that I am friends with famous businessman and rapper Dr. Dre, and consequently, they are interested in being my friend rather than being contentious with me.]
When you sell like Eminem, and the hoes they wanna fuck
[When you have exceptional record sales, like my colleague Marshal Mathers, you may find that lascivious women want to engage in intercourse with you.]
But homie ain't nothing change hoes down, G's up
[I haven’t changed though. I still prioritize time with my friends over evenings with loose women.]
I see Xzibit in the Cut that n8gga roll that weed up
[There’s my friend Xzibit! Let’s share a marijuana cigarette, buddy.]
If you watch how I move you'll mistake me for a playa or pimp
[You may observe my walk and suspect that I am putting on false airs by strolling in a manner that is overly affected.]
Been hit wit a few shells but I dont walk wit a limp(Im ight)
[As a matter of fact, I do not walk with a limp, despite being shot nine times. I’m actually quite fine.]
In the hood, In L.A, they saying "50 you hot"
[From the old neighborhood to Los Angeles, all the people are admiring my music and congratulating me on my success.]
They like me, I want them to love me like they love 'Pac
[Although people seem to like me, I would prefer that they hold me in the highest exultation, much like they hold the late rapper Tupac Shakur.]
But holla in New York them n*ggas'll tell ya im loco
[Unfortunately, on the East Coast, you’ll find that my peers are not as fond of me.]
And the plan is to put the rap game in a choke hold
[As a matter of fact, they would like to see me fail.]
I'm full of focused man, my money on my mind
[I remained focused on my career, and the money I earn from working diligently.]
I got a mill out the deal and I'm still on the grind
[I’ve made a million dollars, but I’m still putting forth considerable effort to improve my craft.]
Now shorty said she feeling my style, she feeling my flow
[This attractive lady had indicated to me that she is interested in my persona and my talent.]
Her girlfriend wanna get bi and they ready to go
[Her bisexual girlfriend is with her and they would both like to retire for the evening with me.]

[Chorus (2x)][Bridge]
My flow, my show brought me the dough
[My incredible rapping skills have allowed me to earn a substantial income.]
That bought me all my fancy things
[I’ve been able to purchase many fine items,]
My crib, my cars, my clothes, my jewels
[I bought a new house, several fine automobiles, new clothing, and jewelry as well.]
Look n*gga i done came up and i ain't change.
[Fellas, rest assured that despite my success and money, I’m still the person I always was.]

[Verse]
And you should love it, way more then you hate it
[I would expect you to be proud of my success, not jealous or angry.]
N*gga you mad? I thought that you'd be happy I made it
[Why are you so upset? Aren’t you feeling congratulatory towards me?]
I'm that cat by the bar toasting to the good life
[I’m that guy having a good time, pleased with his good fortune.]
You that faggot ass n*gga trying to pull me back right?
[I suspect you are jealous and would prefer to keep me from continued success.]
When my jaws get to bumpin in the club it's on
[Once I begin rapping, my fans are powerless under my control.]
I wink my eye at you bitch, if she smiles she gone
[All I have to do is wink at your girlfriend and she will gladly leave with me.]
If the roof on fire, let the motherfucker burn
[It may be getting hot and contentious in this venue, but that’s ok; I’m not worried about it.]
If you talking bout money homie, I ain't concerned
[If you are suggesting that my money won’t last forever, I’m not concerned about that either.]
I'm a tell you what Banks told me cause go 'head switch the style up
[I’ve been told I can change around my rapping style and still be successful]
If the n*ggas hate then let 'em hate
[If my colleagues are jealous of my talent and success, I can’t let that bother me.]
and watch the money pile up
[I will continue earning substantial money with my talent and hard work.]
Or we go upside they head wit a bottle of bub
[If all else fails, I will assault you with this bottle of champagne once it is empty.]
They know where we fuckin' be
[I believe you now understand my position.]

[Chorus (2x)]