I mean, I’m not the biggest fan of the whole “pretty eyes” when it comes to black people with green/blue/hazel eyes but I also think it’s ridiculous to act like people are “Eurocentric” for them either. Having green eyes and being brown-skinned doesn’t automatically send you into racial ambiguity or “mixed passing.” They’re just eyes. Anyone can have them. I never thought having green or blue eyes meant you were “less black.” It’s so fucking common. lmaooo
Hi my name is Murdoc Alphonse Faust Niccals and I have short greasy black hair and pale hazel eyes and a lot of people tell me I look like Keith Richards (AN: if u don’t know who he is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Satan but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a vampire but my teeth are crooked and green. I have pale green skin. I’m also in a band, and I live in a place called Kong Studios in England where I worked for a few years (I’m 49 years old). I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black shirt with a matching satanic cross around my neck and a black leather belt, jeans, and cuban-heeled boots. I was wearing black lipstick, green foundation, black eyeliner and gray eye shadow. I was walking outside Kong Studios. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. 2D stared at me. I put up my middle finger at him. “Hey Murdoc!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Paula Cracker! “What’s up Paula?” I asked. “Nothing.” she said shyly. But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away
Chapter 2. The next day I woke up in my bedroom. It was snowing and raining again. I opened the door of my coffin and drank some rum from a bottle I had. My coffin was black ebony and inside it was hot red velvet with black lace on the ends. I got out of my coffin and took of my giant David Bowie t-shirt which I used for pajamas. Instead, I put on a white turtleneck, a satanic cross necklace, cuban-heeled boots and rolled up jeans on. I put on a military dress cap with skull on top. My friend, Billy Boy (AN: Billy dis is u!) woke up then and grinned at me. He flipped his short shoulder-length raven black hair and opened his forest-green eyes. He put on his military dress cap with crossbones on the top, a military jacket, and black leather boots. We put on our makeup (black lipstick green foundation and black eyeliner.) “OMFG, I saw you talking to Paula Cracker yesterday!” he said excitedly. “Yeah? So?” I said, blushing. “Do you like Paula?” he asked as we went out of my Winnebago and into the studio halls. “No I so fucking don’t!” I shouted. “Yeah right!” he exclaimed. Just then, Paula walked up to me. “Hi.” she said. “Hi.” I replied flirtily. “Guess what.” she said. “What?” I asked. “Well, Blondie is having a concert in Hogsmeade.” she told me. “Oh. My. Fucking. God!” I screamed. I love Blondie. They are my favorite band, besides Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. “Well…. do you want to go with me?” she asked. I gasped.
Chapter 3. On the night of the concert I put on my cuban-heeled boots. On top of them were brown jeans. Then I put on a black shirt with a satanic cross necklace. I put on purple cape around my neck. I straightened my hair and made it look all spiky. I felt a little depressed then, so I slit one of my wrists. I read a depressing book while I waited for it to stop bleeding and I listened to some David Bowie. I painted my nails black and put on TONS of black eyeliner. Then I put on some black lipstick. I didn’t put on foundation because I was green anyway. I drank some human blood so I was ready to go to the concert. I went outside. Paula was waiting there in front of her car. She was wearing a Simple Plan t-shirt (they would play at the show too), red velvet pants, black nail polish and a little eyeliner (AN: A lot fo kewl gurlz wer it ok!). “Hi Paula!” I said in a depressed voice. “Hi Murdoc.” she said back. We walked into her black Mercedes-Benz (the license plate said 666) and drove to the place with the concert. On the way we listened excitedly to Blondie and David Bowie. We both smoked cigarettes and drugs. When we got there, we both hopped out of the car. We went to the mosh pit at the front of the stage and jumped up and down as we listened to Blondie. “Oh, uh-huh make it magnificent Tonight Right Ah, oh your hair is beautiful Ah, tonight Atomic.” sang Debbie (I don’t own da lyrics 2 dat song).“Debbie is so fucking hot.” I said to Paula, pointing to her as she sung, filling the club with her amazing voice. Suddenly Paula looked sad. “What’s wrong?” I asked as we moshed to the music. Then I caught on. “Hey, it’s ok I don’t like her better than YOU!” I said. “Really?” asked Paula sensitively and she put her arm around me all protective. “Really.” I said. “Besides I don’t even know Debbie and she’s going out with Chris fucking Stein. I fucking hate that little bitch.” I said disgustedly, thinking of his ugly face. The night went on really well, and I had a great time. So did Paula. After the concert, we drank some beer and asked Chris and Debbie for their autographs and photos with them. We got Blondie concert tees. Paula and I crawled back into the Mercedes-Benz, but Paula didn’t go back into Kong Studios, instead she drove the car into……………………… Plastic Beach!
Chapter 4. “Paula!” I shouted. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Paula didn’t answer but she stopped the car and she walked out of it. I walked out of it too, curiously. “What the fucking hell?” I asked angrily. “Murdoc?” she asked. “What?” I snapped. Paula leaned in extra-close and I looked into her gothic red eyes (she was wearing color contacts) which revealed so much depressing sorrow and evilness and then suddenly I didn’t feel mad anymore. And then…………… suddenly just as I Paula kissed me passionately. Paula climbed on top of me and we started to make out keenly against a plastic tree. She took of my top and I took of her clothes. I even took of my inverted cross. Then I put my thingie into her you-know-what and we did it for the first time. “Oh! Oh! Oh! ” I screamed. I was beginning to get an orgasm. We started to kiss everywhere and my green body became all warm. And then…. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!” It was……………………………………………………. Russel Hobbs!
Its shocking to accept that rapper Da Brat is actually the real life sister of actress LisaRaye McCoy. Though they share the same father, they don’t look alike to me at all. If you ask me, I think the lovely Raven Symoné resembles LisaRaye a lot more than her own sister!
Lisa Raye was Born: September 23, 1967 (age 46), Chicago, IL ( Libra - Hazel Eyes ). Libras are very visual and notice things that others don’t notice aesthetically and artistically. Libras are known to be unbiased and against bad treatment of others or gossip.