My Anaconda don't. It really don't.
So I'm sitting on the couch and I decided to turn on the TV to see what kind of crap the phonies were advertising at this hour. I'd put the channel guide under the remote so I could see what Comast had in comparison to direct TV. Both have a lot of stuff, but direct TV always conks out whenever there's the faintest gust of wind, or the lightest drizzle of rain. Direct TV's a shoddy company. I remember this one time I was out at a bar that had direct TV. It was pouring rain and freezing cold outside so I got something comforting to eat. The chef there could make a good burger, but there were too many pickles. And I'm pretty sure I asked for no pickles. Maybe it was relish. I hate relish. Whoever made it was a madman to say the least. Anyway, I was at a bar—I can't remember the name—but I was at a bar and there was a baseball game on. I don't know why I was interested, but I was. It was getting to the best part of the game—all these homeruns and all, and then the picture would cut out. All of the screens in the bar, black as hell. And then it would cut back in again only to cut back out the next time the batter hit the ball something awful. What I'm trying to say is direct TV is a really bad television company.
So I'm sitting on the couch, flipping through channels and I find something called "MTV". The guide says it's an acronym for Music Television or whatever. But anyway, there's this colored girl who's barely dressed standing on this shoddy set that looks like a jungle with a bunch of other almost-naked girls. They were all stacked at least. And all had above-average rears. They weren't cute like most white girls want them to be; cute, tiny asses. I hate those. But anyway, they're all just standing around shaking their assets something awful. Like nothing I've ever seen before. I know I've seen a few good peep shows in my time—even some good photos in magazines—but this was just obscene.
There's some guy saying over and over "My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun," And then that colored girl—well, the lead one anyway—starts just talking about some guy named Troy and how he lived in Detroit and how loaded he was. And then she started babbling about a guy named Michael and his motorcycle and how he was well hung and how he tossed salads for a living or something. Maybe his name wasn't Michael, 'cause she said something about his name being Romaine or whatever. Maybe that's his last name.
It took me awhile to realize she was saying Michael was good at sex. I don't believe her. Nobody's good at sex. What the hell is Lo Mein?
She doesn't even sing. I seriously don't even know what she's about. I've never heard or seen anything so awful in my life. But I can agree with that guy when he says he likes girls who are "little in the middle but got much back". That I can agree with. That I can.
And now she's bringing out the whole bananas and whipped cream shtick. It doesn't take an expert to know that the meaning is behind that.
She's got a hideous laugh. That girl on the screen. When she's done shaking her ass like a whole new type of whore she starts sticking it in some colored guy's face. Old Stradlater'd get a hoot out of that if he was in that poor man's place. He really would.
She's got a hideous laugh, and she might have some sort of mental illness. She's trying to pull these doe eyes while making all these noises like a little kid with Asperger syndrome. I'm still trying to figure out why she's cursing out skinny girls. And also why she's calling herself a fat-ass. That part killed me. It really did. I've never seen a girl curse out other girls and then curse herself out too. I still wish Stradlater could've been that man in the video. He would've gotten a kick out of it. He'd be all walking around with a swagger after that lap dance, old Stradlater. I hated him though. I really did.
I still agree with that man that women who are little in the middle but have a nice rear are something awfully good to look at.
What he meant by his anaconda, I'll never know. But I did know. I really did. I'll keep that exaggerated euphemism in mind and pass it on to old Stradlater. He'd get a kick out of it.