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Well… JG* Launched “One Fourth Random” today!

1/4th Random is a look at life through my eyes. Which is completely utterly random.

1/4=.25=25 years of age. I’m in my “Quarterlife (non)-Crisis”

Not to mention my Sorority Line Number is 14. It’s a match!

Get it where you fit in. Log on and subscribe. It will surely be a random ride!


check me out here: 

hey guys!

i know it’s been a minute since something new has been published. but it’s time that we (i) inform you of some of the things that have been going on with the site.

  • JG* is no longer blogging with ROWC. as most of you know, this chick has a lot going on and didn’t want the stress of blogging on ALL the sites that she blogs on. definitely check her out at one of the many other blogs that she blogs for!
  • i was asking for guest bloggers for a reason. i too have had a new project in the works for myself. with that being said, rants of a wild child is officially coming to a close today. yes folks, today is the last post for rants. but please don’t cry! 
  • so i know you guys are probably wondering, “dear ladebelle, why would you ever want to stop ranting?” well here’s the truth of the matter. i started rants of a wild child during a time where i didn’t feel like it was ok for me to express myself. i didn’t think that people would like me nor did i know how to express myself in ways that i was berating the world with curses. as with all things, i’ve evolved and so must my blog. since i started this blog, i’ve been through the toughest times of my life and i’m not afraid to embrace the lessons they’ve taught me. nor am i afraid of being who i am. during the time of this blog, i’ve grown in unexplainable ways and matured into a more loving woman who’s goals have expanded. now i desire to share myself.
  • with all that being said, i will be launching a new site tomorrow morning so stay tuned for what’s in store!


i would like to thank all my current readers for reading and supporting me through these hard times. blogging has always been my outlet and it was enhanced by my readers! please please please subscribe to my new blog (once launched) and participate there as well. 




I’ve always wondered what this meant. I mean in my mind good girls are the ones that well… do good. Bad girls, are the ones who don’t. One is a pillar in society, the other is in jail. However, like anything else things aren’t always what they seem. According to a random poll that I took with complete and total biases, no proper sample, and no kind of professionalism, I came to the conclusion that there are hardly any good girls left in the world. Here is what my research turned up for me.

Good Girls:

  • Virgins
  • Naive
  • Somewhat Nerdy
  • Very Sweet & Kind
  • Tend to be under-developed (What!)
  • Wears clothes that fit her
  • Eat healthy (again… What!?)

Bad Girls:

  • Not virgins
  • Have tattoos/piercings
  • Are very sweet & kind as well
  • Despite the above statement they are fond of trickery and using their feminine wiles
  • Probably smokes cigarettes
  • Over-developed
  • Shops at Wet Seal, Rave, and Man Alive
  • Also shops at only high-end stores because she’s got some simp paying for it
  • Dances provocatively
  • Smart, but also not smart.
  • This list seriously goes on and on

So pardon me for thinking WTHeck. How do you figure? These are seriously some responses I received in my random polling of people who clearly should not be allowed to speak in public. Judging by this criteria I am a pretty much just a girl. Not good or bad. It got worse but I thought I would spare the readers. Why is it that Good Girls have to be nuns and Bad Girls equal the devil. What does this differentiation even necessary? A good girl is under-developed!? Please tell me how she is able to really help that. If she has a child (which if she’s not married, automatically makes her a Bad Girl) and grows a body all of a sudden, is she then a Bad Girl? I’m so confused. Please help me people. All jokes aside, when Rihianna was the “Good Girl Gone Bad” what exactly did that mean? Was it like “Genie In a Bottle” Christina Aguilera to “Dirty” Christina? And even in that case, Christina became a “Bad Girl” when out of her little group of Pop Starlets she seems to be the one faring the best and doing things right in life. Interesting.

What are you definitions of a Good Girl vs a Bad Girl. Can you tell me the point of even defining this? Are you a good girl or are you a bad girl? Menfolk, which do you prefer?

J “adjusting my halo” G*

Thank you to those of you who sent up prayers for my safe travels. I really appreciate it. I’ll blog later this week on here or my other Blog about the trip and my Alvin Ailey experience. 🙂 But for now, back to your regularly scheduled programing. 


Size DOES matter. 

Women who say it doesn’t, have been missing out. 

But here’s where it gets confusing and difficult to understand. For some women, it’s about length versus girth, for others it’s the other way around. Also, you have to factor in things like shape and contour, but that’s another level and we’ll keep it simple for now. 

It’s not the man’s fault how endowed he is, and he certainly can’t help it or do anything that i’d consider to be normal to change it. With that being said, Own Your Size™. If you’re not big, don’t make a big deal out of it, just silence the critics with an award-winning performance. It has been my experience, and that of many others, that often times, it’s the men with the smallest wangs who talk the biggest game. They are the ones constantly in your ear telling you what they are going to do to you, and how they are going to make you scream. They are also the ones that want to be all elaborate with how they present it to you. They wanna “whip it out” and try to smack you in the head with it. They say things like “yea, you want this fat ****” or “put it ALL in your mouth.” First of all……. It’s Not As Big As You Think. What was that movie that just came out? He’s just not that into you? Well sir, neither is your dilly dally. Of course I’ll put it all in my mouth. No problem, no sweat off my brow. 

Let me back it up. I said that the tone of this blog would be less rude and more supportive. So I’ll start over. 

I understand why men may think they are slinging more weight than they really are. You shouldn’t have no way to compare. I meant outside of Porn, it’s not like you spend loads of time looking at other men’s erect man-poles clearly enough to determine his size and measure against you own. So I think it’s completely acceptable to lack the knowledge of where you actually measure up. But I have something for you, a chart! 



Either way, if you aren’t clear on where you stack up, I do not suggest that you go around assuming that you are carrying around a kickstand. What tends to happen is the following scenario:

*during sex*

Mr. *tiny*: Yea girl, you like this? Take allllll that daddy **** girl.

Girl: *thinking to herself* Take all what? *instead she moans like it’s great*

Mr. *tiny*: *after sex* Did you cum? I’m the biggest you’ve ever had huh?

Girl: *mentally rolls her eyes, decides to lie to protect Male Ego* and says* Yes, I came, and yes, it’s big. 

/end scenario.

Simply put, she’s not in a position to come out of her mouth and say, “Well actually, it’s not that big.” Hell, I’ve been walking down the sidewalk and a guy tried to stop me, and me being in my own world I didn’t notice. I then had to listen to the onslaught of “bitch, stuck up hoe, etc” as he followed me. You can see why we’d be hesitant to tell a guy that his most prized possession isn’t as great as he seems to think it is. So she lies, and he believes her and from that point on he treats every sexual situation like he is king ding-a-ling and you should bow as his greatness like Xerxes demanded of Leonitas. 

Men, if a girl willingly and unsolicitedly tells you that you have a big huge wang, you can believe that. If you are small, don’t be disheartened. Despite the stereotypes and the rumors, you may be in the majority. Accept it and learn how to make it work for you. Small wang doesn’t always equal a bad time. If you know how to put in the right kind of work, she’ll never notice. Be humble about it. Don’t hype yourself up to be something you’re not. I’m not saying you should hang your head and tell her on the first date, “I’m sorry, I pee on my turntables”. Just (and this is a lesson for all men) keep the talking to halftime. Come out the gate and show what you’re worth before you start talking sh*t. Learn how to read her body, and then re-write the playbook. 

I know this is a difficult read because a man’s entire philosophy on life goes thru his penis. He will make good/bad decisions based on his penis alone. I don’t mean to offend, but this is “Behind Closed Doors” and I’m trying to put the business out there. Feel me? 



*Male Ego is the most difficult thing we women deal with EVER. We have to nurture and protect it or else we are done for. It can be as mundane as “yes hunny, you sure did fix that washing machine” or “yes, you changed the oil and my car is running GREAT (after a visit to Jiffy Lube).” to the sad but necessary “oh yes baby, I cum EVERY time you touch me! I’ve never even had an orgasm before you!”

Ever get so drunk that you go beyond belligerent and circle back into complete functionality? Meaning, one minute you’re stumbling, words slurred, and giggling, the next minute you’re waxing poetic about pies and cooking a full 4-course meal. 

That’s how I feel right now. 

It’s 9:30 A.M. and I’m late writing this post because I am still….drunk. 

I broke all sorts of rules last night. I drank on a weekday, I didn’t drink water along the way, and I consumed my beverages within about 45 minutes. 

I wore snakeskin shoes to hang out with someone who has a snake. How rude of me. I also punked one of the co-workers of the friend I was hanging out with because he was baby sitting his drink. Again, how rude of me. LOL 

All this, I am paying for at this moment. I’m at work, but under my cute red peacoat I’m sporting sweats. I’m sure my boss didn’t see me. Now if I can only hide out until 5:30. 

This day is sure to get even more interesting. If you follow me on Twitter, stay tuned. If you don’t, start. LOL 

To my Ranters, give me your best drunk story. 

Also. Don’t forget to hit up JG* Runs the City. It’s a great cause. 

J “sorry this post is so short, I’m drunk!” G*

P.S. I’m doing so well with the things I said I’d change in 2009. This was a baby relapse. LOL Better luck today!

Nothing to see here, you should be watching History!




JG* and Ladebelle are making big moves! JG*’s new site JG* Runs The City is now up and running and we are RUNNING to save LIVES!!! Please check it out as it is sure to be major, and you can be a part of it too! Thank you!

JG* and Ladebelle

Men….. You have got to do better. 










Ladies, have you ever used the bathroom after you gentleman friend only to find your feet resting in a disgusting puddle? 

Let me say I hope this has not happened to you. But since it has happened to me via more than one gentleman friend, methinks it may be common. 

Sometimes it happens after sex. I can *almost* understand this. He gets up, his willy wang may not be acting right, he stumbles to the toilet and his attempts at perfect aim seem futile. Well, I understand. But why, why dear sweet baby Jesus in your small little baby crib, why can you men NOT CLEAN IT UP!? Is it that you are suffering from post-sex delirium and you fail to notice that you pulled an R.Kelly on my freshly swiffered floor? Or do you not care and you shake it extra hard just to be spiteful? 

Sometimes it happens after copious (shout out to my fellow SAT word lovers…one person in particular) amounts of alcohol are consumed. Ok we got stumbling, inability to focus, and lack of appropriate depth perception. So then why, in the name of all things holy and porcelain, can you not just suck up your male ego and pride , just tuck your willy and sit down to pee? Don’t tell me it’s because you are concerned with germs. Fool it’s your toilet so you should know if it’s clean, or it’s my toilet and you KNOW that it’s clean. Having to keep up with your non-aiming self keeps my bleach constantly on deck. 

Either way, it happens. I, JG*, seem to be the most unfortunate girl who always loses in the foot-race to the bathroom and I am always the one left in the puddle of sterile bodily fluid. I am then left not knowing what to do. It sucks. My foot is wet and icky, yet probably devoid of any bacteria now. I have to maneuver off of the toilet and handle all self-cleaning business on one leg. I have to clean up your foul nastiness because you were too pre-occupied to do it yourself, and I need to clean my feet that I feel now know you on too personal of a level. Once this is done, I hope you have begun to worry what has taken me so long. Also, I hope that you ask. When you ask, you will be met with a fury so deep that you will wish you would have missed and hit yourself in the face instead.

Well really, I say all of that but honestly, I’m too shy to be that real. Well it’s not shy. It’s just that I get embarrassed for other people easily, and when this atrocity occurs, I tend to just clean it up and leave it at that. I don’t want to see the embarrassed look on his face followed by the stumbling and weirdness. I’d rather not see him punk up like that. It would make me sad. Instead, I’ll just accept him as the man-beast that he is and chalk it up to the level of difficulty there must be in taming the beast that is his wang into urination submission. 


Until next time….



Holla back! 

Aint nothing better in life than the Black Church Experience. Gotta love the Holy Spirit.

It’s not a Sunday service, but you get the point, and this video is funny as hell. 

I was born and raised in the church. And being the good southern girl that I am, I know alllll about that good holy ghost filled, and fire baptized church service. My church attendance has been on and off since high school, but I’ve recommitted to my church home here in ATL and I have to say, it’s good to be back. I love it. Church don’t feel like church to me unless there’s an Alter Call, mean ushers, too-touchy old Deacons, a choir that spends 15 minutes marching in and then brings the entire house down with a soulful rendition of “We Fall Down”, and a Pastor who can sing, play the piano, and preach till he’s blue in the face.

Ok, these experiences vary church by church, but seriously. How can you not love the Black Church Experience. Yes, it goes on too long because the preacher got fired up and the band started doing that song that gets everyone up and doing the choppy foot dance. Y’all know what I’m talking about. Yes some churches take up 6 offerings (this is a red flag to me and my church does NOT do this). Yes some churches take 40 minutes to beg people to come to the Altar and join.

But you gotta love it. 

I have some issues with today’s organized religion, that I’ll cover later, but I’m happy to have found a home that talks about these issues and keeps it real 100%. I never have to worry about how my tithes are spent, or where my church stands on certain issues. I attend a pretty big church and I’m going to be honest. The male membership there is on point. If I’m going to meet a man, let it be in the House of the Lord! LOL Thank you Jesus! 

But seriously, this particular post isn’t to bash church, or talk about the crooked pastors, we’ll get to that. But c’mon! Share you fun, good-hearted stories. Y’all know you got that Aunt that goes to church every major holiday and finds the Lord, but returns to her old ways on Monday. Or that Grandma that is in Church 24/7 but hides her flask in the Bible. 

And the people said…