How To Properly Celebrate Beyonce’s 33rd Birthday

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Bitches, today is a national holiday. Nay, a global holiday. Perhaps even a GALACTIC holiday, if we can convince those dogs on Rigel VII to observe the birthdate of the one, true savior of all mankind: Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter, better known as QUEEN BEY. As I’ve said in the past, Yoncé is more than just an international sensation, she is a religion. And today is the day of her birth. It’s Christmas for the disciples of the fiercest, baddest bitch on the planet, and the world needs to observe that. For on this day, the matron saint of our cause, the legendary Tina Beyincé, brought forth upon this world the most beautiful being in creation, and for that, we should all take a day from work and school, listening to the great and powerful Yoncé’s words of wisdom and fierceness, and trying (and failing) to learn the “Diva” dance.

Go on. Try it. I dare you. In heels.

Even though all my requests to observe Bey’s birthday have been rejected by the White House, Congress and the UN, some people, like this fierce as fuck twitter user michonjanieceIV are taking matters into their own hands:
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That’s the fiercest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m fucking inspired. With that in mind, here are the things I will do today in order to properly celebrate the birth of the goddess on Earth herself, Beyoncé.

For starters, I’ll wake up like this:

Try to determine if I had a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare. Either way, I don’t want to wake up.

Say my prayers, find my heaven on Earth, hear this voice inside singing “Ave Maria.”

Get blinded by the light of a halo, so prayer time is over.

Roll out of bed in the morning, throw on what I want and go.

I’ll be drankin’, I’ll be drankin’, most likely watermelon.

Pay my bills, naturally.

Clean up my apartment by putting everything I own in a box to the left.

Fill up the tub halfway and ride my serfbort.

Survive, not give up, not stop, work harder.

Get my nails done, get a pedicure, get my hair did (shit, that’s for Missy Elliott’s birthday).

Put my hands up, and if I like it, I’ll put a ring on it.

Run the world (with my girls).

Invite my sister over and watch her get into a shoving match in my elevator.

At approximately 11:30 p.m., I’ll leave my man at home, ’cause the club is jumpin’, jumpin’.

Make aggressive sex faces while dancing.
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Take 45 minutes to get all dressed up, but not make it to the club.

Get me bodied, whatever the fuck that means.

My baby is a 10.

We be dressing to the 9s.

He can pick me up at 8.

Make me feel so lucky 7.

He kiss me in his 6.

We be makin love at 5.

Still the one I do this 4.

I’m trying to make us 3.

From that 2.

Still the 1.

Tonight, I’ll be your naughty girl.

Show ’em my love on top.

Monica Lewinsky all over someone’s gown.

Boy got me lookin’ so crazy right now.

As I do the walk of shame in my stilettos, realize that pretty hurts.

But no matter what, I’ll always remember to be fine, fresh, fierce, and as sexy as can be. In your honor, Queen Bey, I will drop it to the floor until my booty can’t pop no more. I don’t even think I’M ready for this jelly.

Ugh. Look at her. She’s perfect. Hope she’s having the greatest birthday ever, surrounded by her loving husband and beautiful, fierce daughter. It should be a celebration worthy of all the joy she’s brought into our lives.


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New York's Hottest Club is wherever I am. Haters to the front, hunky Sailors to the back. Bow down betches. Follow this bitch on Twitter @StefonTSM

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