Plottes à fighters, puck sluts, posers and wiggers…with a cherry on top please!!! April 16, 2009

I have never given up my private parts to a celebrity because I was star struck.

I have never dated or pursued someone because they were famous.

I hate people who do.

My lovely better half reports for a French Quebecois website that covers mma events and news (www.ultimefanatic.com) He interviews fighters and trainers and goes to events. The new “cool” thing out there is “plottes à fighters”. That’s what I want to be…If only you could all hear the sarcasm and see the eyes rolling

Plotte, by the way, is a pretty demeaning French word meaning “pussy”…or…to be literal, “cunt”. I love the word cunt so for me, plotte is an awesome alternative when I’m speaking my second language.

Plotte

French Canadian slang word used to define:
1-Female genitalia
2-A girl who dress like a prostitute
3-A girl who has sexual relations with LOTS of different male
4-In Montreal only – A girl who is sexy
5-A male who is afraid of doing something

1-J’y ai mangé la plotte
2-Check moé la plotte!
3-S’tune plotte c’te fille là
4-Ostie qu’est plotte!
5-Ostie que té plotte!

Courtesy of http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=plotte&defid=1185455

So…I want to wear tapout whore-gear and parade in front of super buffed, beat up fighters and give them blow jobs in the bathroom of the club where they’re hosting their after parties. I would also like to contract syphilis and have my teeth knocked out and my tonsils burnt so that I have no gag reflex and I would like to move to St-Jerome and work out in a gym in barely there tank tops to expose my $10 000 DD breasts and have super camel toe. Like beyond camel toe. I want to redefine camel toe with my camel toe, that’s how camel-y I want to toe. I want to BE the toe ho. That’s kinda huge aspirations.

I don’t GET fake people. I don’t get white people who assume I’m G-G-G-G- UNIT!! Or that I’m from the ghetto. Or that my mom’s a crack ho with no teeth and my daddy’s in jail for a b&e that went wrong. C’mon now. There’s a black PRESIDENT for god’s sake. He didn’t get THAT position through his platinum record sales or his hoes. Really. He didn’t PIMP that. He’s not Snoop, or Ol’ Dirty Bastard (who by the way is TOTALLY underrated…he is the ORIGINAL gansta…him and Easy E…Easy E’s awesome lyrics have inspired my attitude towards hooking up with people…first black man in the media to die from aids…from having BONED TOO MANY HOES!!!) Anyways, back to me.

I remember my first week back in college in the eastern townships. I went to a dorm party (man there was like millions of those ALL THE TIME)…and some white person asked me, “So did you hear the new LL Cool J album?”

I stopped drinking my beer to look at this poor, misinformed white person.

“Ummm…no?”

“Oh well, how about THAT album or THAT artist and blah blah blah”

I did walk away from that person and never spoke to them ever again even though unfortunately they lived one floor above me.

I remember going to Reggie’s back in the late 90’s and being the only “white person” there on their reggae night. Really, THAT was fun.

I also remember going to a few jump up after parties and again being the only “white person” in attendance. Good times were had by all. I had WHITE people suck their teeth at me. C’mon. Let’s get a life, shall we?

Now, let’s look at me shall we?

I don’t wear a size 0. I never have and I never will.

I have curves.

I look in the mirror and wish I could lose 20 lbs. Ok, more like 30lbs.

I don’t wear sexy clothes because I feel like they’re made for people 30 lbs smaller than me.

I am not star struck, or celebrity struck or anything struck. Except maybe my better half struck but everyone knows that already.

I hate working out but I love the feeling it gives me after I’m done and it frustrates me that I’m losing the inches but not the pounds.

I hate skinny bitches who give me the once over, decide I’m too ugly/fat/unstylish and then decide to flirt with my boyfriend…with me standing right beside him holding his hand.

I feel insecure when my boyfriend tells me about the camel toe brigade in his mma classes.

I do have the confidence of a typhoon, but only when the mood hits me.

But as I was telling my boyfriend earlier, I hooked up with MANY people that were “out of my league”. I mean one look at him and it explains it all.

I met my boyfriend when I weighted over 200 lbs. I had a set of tits and a big old ass that I used to my advantage. The whole time I was hitting on him (I already had his number by then) I had my assets all over him, literally. I was “up in his grille”…big time.

I mesmerized him with my sexy flirting techniques and before he knew it, we were a couple and it’s been almost 6 years and he’s still here.

I’m his plotte à fighter. 110%.

Now that the UFC is here this week end, I see all these desperate tapout whores hanging out at the big hotels downtown looking like flies gathering around a pile of shit. Ladies…if you do manage to get your hooch on with a fighter, or a trainer, or a photographer or journalist in the hopes of getting GSP into your cooch…guess what? They’ll fuck you once, then forget all about you because there’s a line up with girls who look JUST LIKE YOU, with the same blonde streaks and maybe a half of cup size bigger, with the same chiseled abs and tight ass and whose pink taco is somewhat tighter and can deep throat a little bit better than you, honey. Sorry for the FYI but guess what? Sunday morning when you’re on your way home, that slip of paper with your contact info is being picked up by the cleaning lady. And there’s no way that any happily married man will leave his wife for a dumb, 5 cent whore like you.

Yes, I said it.

And it’s true.

So ladies, maybe you should THINK before laying out the goods like a cheap plotte. Cause that’s what you are and your stank is all over my beautiful city.

I can’t wait until Sunday when my city will go back to its crummy, sleazy, un-tapout ways.