Let me tell you about it before I forget it.

So I just dreamt that I was in Miami. Not sure why. Prince and Naomi Campbell, now a couple, invited me over to their fancy hotel before I left town. I went over. We laid on the beach for a while. It was nice. Prince kissed me when Naomi wasn’t looking. Back at the hotel, the room they put me in was unclean, smelly, and all kinds of gross. I complained to Naomi. “If you were in Berlin on a job and they put you in a place like this, you’d be livid.” Her response: “Yes, but I’m a Ford model. You’re not.” I wanted to slap the bitch.

Meanwhile, Prince was nowhere to been scene; clearly Naomi was the one running the show. I stormed out with my bags. On my way out of the hotel, I saw one of my sisters walking in. She didn’t see me, but I saw all of her because she was hanging out of her dress. She was on the arm of some Lothario-type, and the biggest ‘ho from my high school was on his other arm. I knew where this shit was headed, and I wasn’t having it. But I got stuck in the revolving doors of the hotel entrance, and by the time I got out, my sister was gone. I jumped on an elevator in search of her, with every intention of dragging her out by her hair extensions. No luck.

Then it was the next day. I was clean, refreshed and bright-eyed, and hanging out at the Roots Family Picnic in Philly. Guess who was there? Prince and Naomi again. Naomi tried to get back into my good graces, but I wasn’t have it. I cursed her out and called her out on her alopecia. She got mad and left. Prince stayed behind, apologized, and tried to hit on me again. I wish I knew what happened next, but I woke up laughing.


About RtG

Rakia the Great, or RtG, is a publishing geek and sometimes literary snob. She's stumbling her way towards personal fulfillment and world domination by, oh, I dunno, writing this blog. Most days she's living her dream as a fancy schmancy editor. But not, like, today.
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