"Bella! Bella bitch wake up." My best friend jumped on me vigorously.
I pushed her off. "Move." I wiped the slob from the side of my lip.
"Turn on the tv now! Bitch where is the remote? Hurry!" She rushed me.
I rolled my eyes. "What did I tell you about that bitch word? Shit not cute." I turned on the tv.
"But you slobber like a bitch." She laughed. I stale faced her. "Okay okay, sorry that wasn't funny."
"LOOOK B-- Girl is you!" She pointed at me dancing in the streets of New York on Saturday Mornings Live.
I smiled big and scooted to the edge of the bed. "Oh shit."
"Exactly. Look at you killing it in Harlem then fuckin' it up threw Brooklyn. This dancing shit really made for you." She complimented.
"I am just glad I got the message threw all of them places ya know? Put down the guns." I laid back on the bed.
"Tonight we celebrate." She smirked.
"Yahmen I love you but last time we 'celebrated' I had to be your designated driver. Well every time I am." I said.
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^Yahmen. "That's cause you don't drink." She pointed out.
"Liquor tastes nasty --"
"Boo you're boring! You won't drink but you'll get all these painful, torturous tattoos? Just like you tatted parts of your body, I can drink all I want." She shrugged.
"My body--"
"Is my canvas." She rolled her eyes. "You sound like my family and you're not even Buddhist."
"So. Muhammad rubbed off on me a little." I got up and walked towards my kitchen.
"A little is a understatement." She mumbled.
"I heard you."
"I heard me too." She followed after me. "What you got to eat? I'm hungry."
"You only use me for food." I laughed.
"And you use me for my natural hair products when you to lazy to buy your own." She mushed my head.
I stuck my tongue at her. "But on a serious note, I'm probably gonna be mad tired to go out I gotta teach a class today."
"Deadass?" She grabbed my blender.
"Yeah, I'm expanding my genre and doing hip-hop today." I grabbed the fruit and ice out the fridge.
