RIP XBox
This is going to be a short post because, well you’ll see.
When women don’t know how to express our anger we sometimes head to his personal possessions. We don’t need to fight you, we just need to hurt you. And as women we are well aware that psychological harm is just as effective as physical.
We know he saved up all summer for that expensive ass purchase. We know men cherish their stuff as a reflection of their tastes, styles, and all around Bossnes. When we can’t get across how much we hate this man at the current moment so we take it to the material possessions.
“Bust the Windows Out Your Car”
It’s not just a song, it’s real life out here. His camera, his car, his stereo system. Let’s just get it out of our system, shall we? Let’s hold a vigil for all the shit we dun broke. This is a blog so people are supposed to comment, but a lot of you mofos, as much as I love you, are some lurking ass mofos so I’ll just start without you.
Take a breath in, breathe out. For his:
- 1982 Camaro windows
- Ray Bans
- computer
- car’s engine
- XBox or Playstation
- I once saw a woman throw a whole record (vinyl) collection onto the streets of Crown Heights
- momma’s lamp
- prized but cheap flea market find sculpture
- painting of the dark skin and the light skinned people making love in every damn hair salon and black establishment
- motherfreaking phone (Seriously did he love that thing more than you? Geez. Oh, it was another bitch he was talking to? We’ll make sure she gon have to contact him using smoke signals. That’s what a trash compacter is for, right? That reminds me…)
- Garbage compacter. (Who knew it wasn’t strong enough to chew a Droid?)
Lawd, forgive us for we did not know any better *and silence*.
