Lil HB back again, ready to drop some dope words and sick beats. (beat box noises generated from my oral region) Oh wait, wrong site. Did y'all enjoy a slice of Mr. Smooth? The movie playing in my head with B and Mr. Smooth was amazing. I don't know how well it translated over to the chapters but I hope you get a sense of fun Bella had.

QL Update: Considering the fact that I am currently uncomfortable in my own meat suit I've done a ton of jumping as of late. Through my "travels" I heard talk of a Smurfs 3- PLEASE SOMEONE STOP IT! Enough with making my childhood cartoon friends into crappy CGI Movies. Thank you. Still don't own this shit, just playing with it.

Thank you to the usual suspects. Without you my world would be a much darker place. Thank you for all you do and for all that you are.

Enjoy.

Chapter 10

Whack a Housewife

Journal Entry #2

Are you there, God? It's me, Bella.

I fucking LOVE Tuscaloosa. This is going in the number one spot on the Rebuilding Bella U.S. Tour (name subject to change). BBQ heaven, pound town with Mr. Smooth, Housewife-whacking meteorites; it's gonna be hard to top that.

The first thing I did was stop at Archibald's for some BBQ and it was heaven. Pure, barbeque sauce all over my face, heaven. I've never had such mouthwatering and delicious ribs and pork in my life.

After watching me devour my ribs, another patron of that fine BBQ establishment said he loved me. I found it odd yet flattering at the same time. I didn't ask him why, although I should have. Was it me eating my weight in ribs, the BBQ sauce dripping down my chin, or the inappropriate sex noises whilst eating that snagged his heart? I guess I will never know. After I slept off the ribs back at my motel room, I inhaled the small pork plate that I had also ordered to go. Where does all the food go for such a tiny little girl like myself, you ask? To my humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps. You didn't think I got this ass by eating salad, did ya?

The only bad part was getting a text from PPPE. That fucking threw me into a tail spin. (More on that later.)

Enter Mr. Smooth, or Demetri as his friends call him. The smooth-talking, ridiculously hot drummer that took me to pound town – repeatedly. We also talked and laughed our asses off.

The morning after, instead of the awkward 'thanks for boning me' convo, I decided to drag him on my trip to the Museum of Natural History to see the Hodges' "housewife-whacking" meteorite.

Okay, so this meteorite fell from space, crashed through this 50's housewife's roof, snapped some rafters, fell through the ceiling, bounced off one of those old big ass radios, and hit this lady in the head while she was taking a nap! And she didn't die! That is some crazy shit.

Dem and I decided that she ran out of the house screaming, "The sky is falling! The end is near!" We were told by the guide that she did not. She claimed it was sent to her by God. Apparently, he wanted to knock some sense into her.

We, of course, made an Instagram video reenactment.

While the tour guide wasn't looking, we took out my handy dandy sticky notes and made a few new slogans to draw the people in.

"Why whack a mole when you can whack a housewife instead?"

"Can't turn a hoe into a housewife but you can whack her with a meteor."

That, in turn, led to a great conversation debating what categorizes a hoe, if I was a hoe, and if there are such things as a yard-wife or a garage-wife. We ended it by busting out some Dr. Dre 'Housewife' – obviously.

We saw some other cool shit but my other favorite was the giant prehistoric whale, Basilosaurus cetoides. We made signs that said, 'Free Willysaurus!' and had the guide, who was WAAAY cooler the one at Southern Forest World, take our picture in front of it.

We also had sexual relations in the bathroom.

Once we got back to the motel and had sex again, it was time for him to get ready for his gig. I thought I was attracted to him before but watching him play and sing…. BOOM – ovary explosion. Needless to say, our naughty bits were attached for the rest of the night.

Not gonna lie, Virginia totally cried when she had to say goodbye. We exchanged numbers and, of course, friended each other on the Facebook and the Instagram. (He promised to hit me up if/when they play in Seattle.

By the way, the pictures and videos apparently did not sit well with PPPE. He left a few comments on our pictures and videos. I chose to ignore them. Angela said he would not stop talking about it to Ben at work. I really need to block him. I'm just not ready to do that just yet.

Next stop- Tupelo, Mississippi – birth place of the King.

TaTa for now,

Bella

Dear PPPE in my head,

I really need you to stop texting me. I said goodbye…

Demetri is his name, to answer your question. He's a drummer in a band called V. He's hot and funny and he has this way of making it all go away for a moment. Like a Band-Aid that doesn't stay on after the first time you wash your hands. He makes me feel good about myself in the way he looks at me – like I'm different, but in a good way.

Confession- That first night we had sex, it felt so strange and foreign. It felt wrong. He's Mr. Smooth so it wasn't that he didn't know what he was doing and, boy howdy, is he good at it. But there was zero familiarity. No routine. Despite my 'if it feels good, do it' motto, it started to freak me out and at one point, I closed my eyes and tried to picture you. It just all felt wrong. He didn't touch me the way you do. Didn't kiss me the same way. So I went on autopilot. I went to bathroom and cried when we were done. I hate, with everything I have, that I wished it was you. I didn't cry long because how awful would it be if he caught me crying in the bathroom? So I splashed some water on my face and crawled back into bed. He draped his arm over me and pulled me into his body. Rom Com style.

**Sidenote: Ask Mr. Smooth if he watches romantic comedies and studies them to get his moves. If not- assign ample time to for RomCom101 in an effort to up his already ridic game. 'Cause I'm nice like that. Let's be real – Jared Leto over there is not the love of my life. I know it. He knows it. Why not help a friend out? End Sidenote.

All night, I thought about this. I don't want to think about you when I am with someone else. This is my time. I left so I can figure out who I am now and who I want to become. Not be the girl destroying her own soul because she's in love with a boy who never truly loved her back.

I woke him up the next day with a latte and bagel and dragged him along to my adventure of the day. I had more fun than I remember having in a long time. I told him about you and he told me about being a man-whore. It felt freeing to be able to talk about it without feeling like I'm letting people down or being judged.

The next time we had sex was, Holy Lord Jesus, almost better than the BBQ. Almost. So was the time after that and the time after that… Does that sting? Does it make you stomach tie up into knots? Are you jealous? I hope you are.

I think I can count this stop as a small victory towards letting you go. I miss you. I hate you. I love you. Fuck you.

**A/N

Challenge- Anyone who goes to the Museum of Natural History and puts sticking notes with the slogans mentioned above on the whack-a-house wife meteor and also Free Willyasaurus signs, post them to Instagram and Tag me ( LILHB421) Not only will you be the most awesome person in the world but will also receive something special from me)

I enjoyed writing this chapter. It was fun and it felt like B was taking some much needed steps in the right direction. Thank you so much for reading the crazy words that I spit out. It means the world to me. Truly.

XOZO

HB