Belle of the Ball
Contrary to popular belief, I have me a little life down here in this south. Come two days time, I’m heading myself to a ball. Got my dress yesterday, tried it on in my bathroom where I can see all of myself from every angle and folks, I do declare on a stack of Bibles, the Torah and Qu’ran, I look hhhhhhoooot! I ain’t never lied to you, so there’s no point starting now. Okay? The truth will set you and a diva free. Alright?
This is how hot I was, folks. I was brushing my hand over my dress while I was looking at my divaness and folks, I thought I was gonna catch fire. You hear me? Saw myself a spark and had to come outta that dress for fear of blowing myself right on up. I have to at least make it to the ball and have an audience if I’m gonna go kaboom. Like, it means nothing if I’m standing in the mirror all by my darn self. You feel me?
I got my do done and and it’s on like a bag of popcorn and Skittles. Okay? Got ole Beatrice over here looking at me cross and sideways with her Hollyhood self. I may have to get her to cover my story and write about my fabulosity ’cause to not do so would make absolutely no sense. Heeyyyy…As the queen of Hollywood gossip would say, ‘Don’t be mad. Be glad somebody as…’ Well, nevermind me trying to rhyme some silly words together. I’ll let Beatrice, the current mistress of undercover hatin’, give you the scoop…Umph…I’ll be darn if I ain’t over here sizzling, folks. Somebody, call 911.