TELL IT TO SHANIQUA, GIRL!

DEAR SHANIQUA: I’m having a little trouble with my boyfriend. We’ve been together
for three years, and I love him a lot. However, he has recently started making
comments regarding my weight. Things like, “You would look really hot if you dropped
ten pounds.” At present, I am five-foot-six, and weigh 128. What would you do
if you were in my position?–Jennifer, 25, accountant

Whoa, girl! Five-foot-six and 128??? If I were in your position,
I’d run straight over to Popeyes and eat me up a family pack! Damn, girlfriend,
you must look like six o’clock–straight up and down! Let Shaniqua tell you
somethin’, baby-girl, I ain’t never been, nor will ever BE in your position.
I got so much ass, I could be way up the street, but my booty would just be
turnin’ the corner. If that dress tag don’t have at least two X’s on it, it
stays on the rack–you know what I’m sayin’? From the heart, though, if my man asked me to drop some weight? I’d do it. I’d drop it right down on his broke-ass!!
And while I was droppin’ it, I’d be screaming, “Why don’t you drop some of them
gold teeth out of your raggedy mouth? Why don’t you drop your boo-boo stained
drawers off at the laundromat?” Ha! Ha! That’s what I’d do! Tell it to Shaniqua,
girl!

DEAR SHANIQUA: With football season starting now, my boyfriend and all his friends
are over at our house watching football almost every Sunday. I don’t really
mind them over at the house, but by the time they leave, my boyfriend’s always
had so much to drink that sex is completely out of the question. How can I keep
him sober enough to get it up?–Katie, 27, travel agent

Oooh, girl, I’m feelin’ that shit. Every fall it’s the same damn thing My
man Tyrone and those ugly trifling bruthas of his start stinkin’ up my home
with they forties and pork rinds. And by the time they through? Baby girl, I’m
not even thinkin’ about gettin’ mine. Tyrone’s breath so stank, ain’t
nothin’ goin’ on in his lap except a pile of dead flies. But see, that’s when
you gotta start with the “behavior mod-i-fi-ca-tion!” Like I always say, “When
times get hard, go for his credit card!” Once that kick-off starts, you should
already be ringing up two outfits, a nail job, and a brand new weave. Mark my
words, by the time mid-season comes around? That no-good man will be kickin’
those thugs to the curb and breaking you off a piece of that good thang. Yeaaaaaaah,
that’s what I’m talkin’ about! Tell it to Shaniqua, girl!

DEAR SHANIQUA: My fiancée and I have been engaged for almost a year
now, and recently, I’ve realized that we really don’t have any of the same interests.
At first, it was enough that we just enjoyed each other’s company, but lately
we haven’t been able to agree on anything. I like sushi; he likes hamburgers.
I like Dave Matthews, he likes Alien Ant Farm. I’m starting to think we were
never meant to be. Should I call off the wedding?–Susan, 24, graphic designer

Girrrrl, I gots to tell ya: If there were ever two crackers that deserved to
be together, you’re the couple. But let me dish it straight-up–“similar interests”
and that other shit don’t mean nuthin’. You gots to ask your man one question
and one question only: WILL YOU DO THE “DOWNTOWN STRUT?” My boo, Tyrone, he
ain’t good for NOTHING, except for one thing and that’s takin’ a trip “down
south” and eatin’ him up a “mess of greens.” And OOOOOH, child! When he’s doin’
that, I don’t give a damn whether he looks like Denzel or that peanut-head Spike
Lee, ‘cuz I gots me a brutha that makes me hit the ceiling! So you go and ask
your baby daddy if he hits it on the “down-low.” If he does, snag that man and
don’t him let go! If he don’t, you give him two choices: the door or the window!
SA-NAP, sister! Tell it to Shaniqua, girl!