Janet sure do like to get naked. I guess that what makes her special. Just think, if you only knew her when she was Penny. I mean, her boyfriend is Jermaine Dupri. If he had a shot at her, just think what your chances might have been. But I guess it’s too late, skillet. You let that sweet baby back sugar ass bad whatever the fuck — I don’t know. I lost my train of thought — honey chicken grilled booty ass pass you by.

Her standards must not be that high. Her last man rode her like Tom on Rosanne, getting dough to hang out in the studio and make her videos. And then leave her and get paid for the service of doing bullshit. My woman never did anything like that for me, getting me a job, letting me move in with her, taking care of all my bills, me living off of her ass. Fuck it. I’d be the beyotch. I don’t care. Beat me like Ike did Tina.

You can be the OJ, I don’t care. Just stay naked

And Janet likes to stay naked. And what woman ain’t great that looks great and likes to stay naked. I live for a woman to walk around my place all day butt naked, or at least in her holey drawers, bending over, making me pancakes, washing my clothes. (Yes, I’m a pig.) Although, Janet doesn’t look like the kind of chick who cooks and cleans. Usually really hot chicks don’t cook or clean because they don’t have to. They’re hot. Plus, I probably wouldn’t want Janet getting all messed up making me dinner and scrubbing my bottoms. I’d be like Jermaine, take her to strip clubs, teach her how to expose herself in new ways, maybe go to the park with her nipples poking out, take her to the zoo with Prince-like, booty out pants on. I say if you got a Janet, dress her ass up like Barbie. Just think of the combinations — fuckin’ hours on hours of mind-numbing fun.

Only drawback to having Janet as your woman is her effed up family. If you’re like me, you’ve wasted countless hours, exhausted a great deal of energy trying to escape the grasp of your own crazy ass relatives, and you find out you’ve been inducted into the psycho Gary Jackson Clan. Now that’s some real tricknology. One minute you’re eating a burrito, marveling at the great work done on Janet’s hooters, and the next, Tito all up in your face grabbing your car keys, talking bout Can I borrow a dollar? Jermaine hanging out at the house, fuckin’ up the pillows, laying his greasy ass head on the couch and shit.

The final straw comes when you wake up and you feel something weird from behind like something’s stuffed in between your butt cheeks and you turn around and it’s Michael and his ass is talking about how the pillows are all soft and shit and you break the hell outta bed screaming and Michael’s starts laughing (tee-hee) cause he knows it wasn’t no fuckin’ mistake that he had his hands up your ass thinking your booty was some pillows. And your screaming, and he’s laughing. And he starts smelling his fingers. And you know it’s time for you to break the fuck outta there.

Only you can’t. Why? Cause Joe got a gun in one hand and a shoe in the other and starts beating the shit outta you, first with the shoe, then with the gun, yelling, talking about you done had sex with his daughter and no daughter of his gonna have sex with a man and not marry him. And you start thinking out loud like That shit didn’t make you go and marry LaToya, negro!

And he starts looking at you all mad and shit like he’s about to go off on your ass, gun pointed to you head ready to shoot. And to the side you got Randy going through your coat pocket looking for dough so he can get him some more crack.

All of a sudden you wonder if it was worth it, was a piece of ass like Janet worth all the hassle you getting from her fucked up family. So you turn to her and look her half-naked ass up and down, getting all shook up with some ole neo Jill Scott butt booty I’m a make a song about that nasty ass sex the next morning Mary Hart big seisure convulsive eye rolling exorcist head turning vomit in your face like flashback shit, and you think…

HELL YEAH!

Home skillet, I’m fucking Ms Nasty, What Have You Done For Me Lately. Like, what’s in your fuckin’ wallet.

So, you tell Joe you gone marry his slutty ass daughter, just not in those words. And you give Randy some crack money, and you send Tito out for some Kitchen Fresh Chicken (bullshit). You rub some of Jermaine’s hair grease on your chest and you stick Michael’s hands back in your ass. And you like it. Cause shit is good. Cause you’re fuckin’ Janet mothafuckin’ Jackson. And that makes you the man.

(P.S. Jill Scott Must Have Been Really Really Horny When She Made Her Last Album…)

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