I know. What a mess. Look at the shame on Oliver's face.
My apartment was so messy in fact, that I regressed back to my ghetto roots and busted out the Pine-Sol. You heard me, Pine-Sol...not that weak ass lemon scented shit. I mean business.
Good thing is that I'm almost done. I'm working on getting the place nice and spiffy for Shabbat. For all my new imaginary readers, there's something you should know about me. I'm Jewish.
I know. Shocking.
You know, I was thinking today about one of the traditions regarding Shabbat (besides cleaning the house, of course). Traditionally the Shabbat is likened to a queen that's coming to visit. What does one do when a queen comes to visit? I don't know, I'm the only queen that lives here. Parum pum.
Seriously though, what I do is clean up the house, put on the Shabbat table cloth, put out the candles, and buy some flowers. Oh, and a nice bottle of wine for the Kiddush ( the blessing over wine).
Shabbat, guuurl, you fine.
There's so much about Shabbat that I'd like to tell you, but I'll keep it simple today. Gotta go, Bitches. If Shabbat is a queen, she'll be pissed if I'm not ready for her grand entrance and she'll cut me in my sleep.
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