welcome

Shopping for labels, shopping for love
Manolo and Louis, it’s all I’m thinking of
Shopping for labels, shopping for love
Manolo and Louis, it’s all I’m thinking of

I already know what my addiction is
I be looking for labels, I ain’t looking for love
I shop for purses while I walk out the door
Don’t cry, buy a bag and then get over it
And, I’m not concerned with all the politics
It’s a lot of men I know I could find another one.

What I know is that I’m always happy
When I walk out the store, store
I’m guessing Supercalifragi-sexy,
Nothing to be playing with
I love him, hate him, kiss him, diss him,
Tryna to walk a mile in my kicks

Love’s like a runway but which one do I love more
No emotional baggage, just big bags filled with Dior
Love’s like a runway, so what’s all the fussing for
Let’s stop chasing them boys and shop some more

I know I might come off as negative
I be looking for labels,
I ain’t looking for love
Relationships are often so hard to tame
A Prada dress has never broken my heart before

And, ballin’s something that I’m fed up with
I’mma do the damn thing, watch me do the damn thing
Cause I know that my credit card
Will help me put out the flames
I’m guessing Supercalifragi-sexy,
Nothing to be playing with
I love him, hate him, kiss him, diss him,
Tryna to walk a mile in my kicks

Gucci, Fendi, Prada purses,
Purchasing them finer things
Men they come a dime a dozen,
Just give me them diamond rings
I’m into a lot of bling,
Cadallic, Chanel and Coach
Fellas boast but they can’t really
Handle my female approach
Buying things is hard to say
Rocking Christian Audigier, Manolo,
Polo, taking photos in my Cartier
So we can’t go all the way,
I know you might hate it but
I’mma shop for labels while them ladies lay and wait for love



Labels or Love, Fergie





the greatest thing you'll ever learn,
is to love and be loved.


Monster?

Sunday, February 27, 2005 ( 9:53 AM )



I was in a really bad mood—up till Joan called me just now. Thanks—and during lunch, I got fed up with my maid for giving me a dripping wet spoon to eat with, and flung it into the sink. I’ve told her probably about a thousand times about my dislike for wet cutlery, but she still takes me for granted. And then she tells me, “Cherylene, you’ve changed. You’re like a monster now.”
I admit, I have been in a very black mood as of late, with the stress and everything. Plus for the fact that people just do not respect my plea for privacy and my request for them not to touch or move my stuff. It’s just a sin they never seem to want to stop committing, and I just get so frustrated and irate when they move my things. I know where my things are, so don’t touch it.

I’m just afraid of losing my things.

I couldn’t think of any witty remarks to backfire at that point. But it really cut me. I mean, I don’t want to be a monster, but they’ve been pushing me to breaking point. Think I like being so mean? They always say that I treat my friends so much better, but my friends are so nice to me, and I treat people how they treat me. If they’re open and friendly to me, that’s how I’ll be to them. If they’re stiff and snobby to me, I won’t be snobby, but I’ll be stiff to them. And if they treat me like I’m crap, like my family does sometimes, I won’t necessarily treat them as such, but I just won’t be happy or display cheeriness. My friends treat me so well, it’s just right that I do them the same favor.

Whoopee.