OK folks, Ol' Emma done got herself in a mess of trouble an I ain't even hired de first ho yet. I got my hi-class ass out of bed at de crack of noon today an figgered dat it was time to get dis show on de road. After downin bout haf a dozen chili dawgs, a couple pigs foots an a bowl of chitlins, I got into my best set of ho-duds an figgered dat I would take de bus up to Buckhead an see iffin I could roun up a few gals to get in on de groun flo' of what I hopes will be de best ho house in de hood. Well I got me one of dem MARTA passes from over at de free clinic an headed on down to de bus stop. I was wonderin just what de fork MARTA stood for. Little did I know dat I would soon find out. Well after waitin roun for bout a hour, de forkin' bus finally pulled up. Now iffin you ever seed Ol' Big Emma, you bound to know dat I totin round a pretty good size caboose. Fact of de matter is, dat when Ol Emma turns around, most of de room turns around wid her. Anyway, when dat mutha fugga opened de do to dat bus, I shoulda knowed dat trouble was brewin. I set one of my size 13's on de step an when I tried to get in dat cracker box, my ass got stuck. Now when I says stuck, dat is a understatement. My poor ol' ass was pinched tween de do and de drivers seat and de driver was starin right down a poop-chute de size of a number 10 washtub. Well dat mutha fuggin driver started hollerin sumptin bout settin my ass down so he could close de do an get de bus rollin again. Now any fool could see dat my ass ain't gonna move, so I tol him to shut de fork up an push, lessen he was figgerin on climbin out de winder. Well dat little low class mutha fucka tol me he wasnt bout to put his hands on my dirty ass. Now you can insult Ol Emma iffin you likes, but dont even think bout talkin bout my ass. I use dat ass to make my livin an I ain't bout to have it insulted. Bout dat time. dem chili dawgs, pig foots an chitlins was startin to make a fuss bout leavin. I was trying to hol it back and be lady-like, but when your but-cheeks is wedged tween a do an gawd know what, nature gonna take over. Ol Emma done cut some good ones afore, but dis one was a doozy. Dat fart what comed outten my ass musta been up there fermentin for bout a week. De front winder blowed out from the pressure an three or four of de mutha fuckas dat was in de bus passed out, I heard de driver callin his momma an he musta paniked. Well his foot hit de gas pedal, an his han hit de horn an we started runnin down de street bout a hunnert miles a hour. Ol Emma was hollerin at de top of her lungs tellin people to get outten de fuggin way but de light pole we hit didn't hear me. We hit dat pole an when de wires hit de groun, sparks flew an dat fart I just cut lit off like a fuggin roman candle. De explosion blew my ass bout forty feet across de street and thru de winder at a Starbucks Coffee shop. Now I done spent de last few years in de big house an I sure as hell don't wanna go back. I hauls my ass outten de front of dat coffee shop, draggin curtains, tables, hot coffee an what ever de fork they was eatin an heads down de street back home. On de way back to my partment, if comes to me bout dat MARTA crap. MARTA must stand for. Moving Asses Rapidly Through Atlanta cause dat is zackly what I did.
Talk to you mutha fuckas later.

Welcome to de ho house

Iffin you folks remembers, ol' Big Emma usta have herself a hi-class ho house in East L.A. Well bout five years ago, I got my ass busted for starting a clap epidemic and got sent to the Big House. Well, I just got out and I is settin up bidnezz in Atlanta. Now here in de South, ho's is kinda looked down on, so I guess I gotta set a few mutha fukkas straight. Once I opens for bidnezz, my joint will be de best ho house in town. Once I gets dis blog shit figered out, I will post all de goin-ons and I guarantees dat you will bust a gut readin bout it. So keep checkin in.