Now that the earth has shaken in NYC, I see no point in staying in NYC. That was one thing that I enjoyed about living in the Big Apple, and Momma Nature just took a big chuck out of us, spitting out the skin as to not eat us hole.
So what keeps me here now? Family. Cause I can make friends anywhere.
And I really love John Fried Chicken.
Why California and not the Sunshine State, which I often beseech in my writing and many dreams of palm trees and tangas? Miami is humid, just like NYC. Add Sujeiry to that formula and the solution is frizzy hair, sticky skin and a year long heat rash on my inner thigh.
My thighs can’t take any more Gold Bond Medicated powder.
So, Miami will remain a dream, replaced by the reality of the City of Angeles. I will visit you soon, my sweet angel, hoping you embrace me with your cool breezes, palm trees, dry heat, social media frenzy and mellowness. And if you so happen to greet me with an earthquake, I will feel much more secure with your wings than with the Big Apple.
I just sat there today, swaying on my velvet copper-colored couch, wondering why my ass was shaking like the asses of video hos in Lil Wayne videos.
Cause let’s face it. The only thing New Yorkers are prepared for is a shoot out (duck and run); an attack of smelly feet courtesy of the bums on the train (move to the next train car); and a humid summer day (turn on la pompa, bitches!)
And those are just a few reasons why I’m becoming a California Girl.