So, I’m doing my usual blog drive-by when i see this posted @ Crunk + Disorderly:
I don’t know what it says, but I’m willing to bet that it’s the same shit I’ve been saying for almost a year now. I keep telling y’all I’m ahead of my time. Even the Germans know this. And while I’m pissing people off, fuck it, Halle Berry is NOT the finest woman on the planet. Hate me now.
Men who have sex with men but don’t think they’re gay. I’ve heard the stories of down low men, and never really paid attention to it, until I was flipping channels and heard the words “Yes, I have sex with men…but I’m not gay”. Whoooooooooooooa. How the fuck does this work ? You got dudes taking it up the butt and giving blowjobs, but they’re not gay ? That reminds me of this girl I used to know who would always say she was “black on the inside”…bitch, you’re white. Stop it. That’s just ig’nant, yet at the same time i think it’s hilariously funny. Kinda like Clayton Bigsby, who was black, but a white supremacist. These cats should just embrace their gayness, cause the only thing that’s as cool as being black these days, is being gay. It’s quite fashionable, the new pink. Besides, that just means more titty for me.
I think it was George Carlin who said something like “You ever notice that the best bodily functions all take place in a 6 inch radius ?” Whether you’re peein’, shittin, or fuckin’, it all goes down on the same block. Think about it.
Anyway, I often wonder about the origin of things…not the beginning of the universe, or the human race. Shit like, “Who was the first person to smoke, and how did he think of it ?” Think about it, what in your everyday life would make you pick up some dried leaves, roll them inside another leaf, set it on fire then suck on it ? How many other things did he try before figuring out the right combination ? Liquor is easy to figure out, at least to me. Prolly went down like this:
Random dude from hundreds of years ago named Ronnie: Ay cuzz, you still got them apples we picked last week ? The tree is bare as a muthafucka.
His homeboy, Earl: Yeah, look in that pot behind the hut. The one with the lid on it.
Ronnie:(Around back, opening pot)Damn nigga, what did you do to em ? This pot smell like boodussy.
Earl: What you talkin bout ?
Ronnie: This pot…it’s full of lumps and some funky ass juice.
Earl: Damn, last time I put em in there this didn’t happen. Shit’s fucked up, Shalonda was gon’ make a pie and shit.
Ronnie: I wanna see her make a pie outta this. It’s all messed up now…I really wanted a apple today, too. You know a nigga ain’t got no money til the 1st.
Earl: I’ll give you 2 dollars if you drink a glass of that shit.
Ronnie: Fool, you crazy.
Earl: Aight, 2 dollars and you can keep the other dollar you owe me.
Ronnie: For real ? Don’t play.
Earl: Yeah, do that shit. I dare you.
Ronnie: Gimme the cup…got me doing this shit, all I wanted was a apple.
Earl: Nigga, shut up and drink it. I’m going to pick up James & Ree-Ree. That glass better be empty when I get back.
15 minutes later…
Ronnie:*Thinking to himself* (You know what, this shit really ain’t that bad once you get past the smell) Ay, y’all niggas need to get on some of this !!!
Another 30 minutes have passed and dude is on his second cup…
Earl: Damn, you still drinking that shit ?
Ronnie: Nigga, I’m fuuuuuuuuuucked up. Remember that time we ate those funny smelling leaves ? It’s like that, nigga…but I don’t feel like I can fly this time. I just wanna lay here and kick it.
Earl: *Thinking to himself*(I bet I could sell this shit)
Ronnie: *Singing* “Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection, the lovers, the dreamers and meeeeeeeeeeeee….”
And that is how liquor was discovered. Soon after, Earl opened “E’s Liquor & Mini-Mart”.
How come everybody is loving this shit ? Why is it that Cee-Lo can get away with doing 3 albums like this, but Andre 3000 got shit on for doing “The Love Below” ? It’s not like it was a surprise or came out of nowhere, every OutKast album after “ATLiens” was just like “Speakerboxxx/The Love Below”. They just weren’t 2 discs long. With every release, Cee-Lo is praised as a brilliant artist, but Andre is called “Craaaaaaaa-zaaaaaaaaay”(I had to do it). And on another note, why can Big Gipp wear a pink t-shirt, baseball stirrups and some shorts he stole from The Incredible Hulk, but Andre Benjamin gets called crazy with every fit he puts on ? It’s not like Big Boi isn’t wearing some outlandish shit himself. Someone please explain.
*Goes to bump “Wailin”*
*I purposely didn’t add pics cause clicking on the links to see them adds to the funny…at least to me*
Y’all might not find this funny, but I do. I was walking back to work tonight, finishing my break, minding my own business when this dude comes up asking me for directions…I think nothing of it until his girl comes over to join us. The whole time I’m thinking to myself, “how did Becky and Sizzla Kalonji hook up ?” Shit made me smile.
So i’m walking through the parking lot toward the barbershop, and I see this chick sitting outside. Now when you see a woman at the barbershop, you know it’s one of 2 things:
A. She’s with her man, who’s inside getting tapered up.
B. She’s with her kid, who’s inside getting tapered up.
Now me being the kind of dude that I am, from 10 ft. away, I assess the situation, and decide to go with “B”…cause even if it is “A”, and she responds to the shit I’m about to throw her way, that’s not my problem. That’s something she and “A” have to have to work out. BTW, niggas, don’t get upset at me if you catch your girl reckless eyeballing. Even at the airport they tell you never to leave your possessions unattended…but I digress. So, as I approach, I give her the old “Hey, how you doin ?” and she gives it right back. Game on ! We go back and forth for about 2 minutes, and then her phone rings. So, I tell her I’m gonna go in and she says “I’ll be inside in a minute”.
Miguel – 1, Honeycoated Luvmuffin – 0.
I walk through the door to take another assessment of the situation, and I notice that it must be “old school playa” day in the shop, cause I see no one who could be her significant other. Unless there’s some Ronald Isley shit going on, I see no potential threats. Another quick scan of the area tells me that there are no kids in the spot either. This is gonna be like stealing Stevie Wonder’s wallet.
Miguel – 2, Sex As A Weapon – 0
By the time she came in about 15 minutes later, I was already in the chair getting cut up and she walked over toward Triple B’s station and started talking to her. Now Triple B is the name I made up for the female barber with the big ass (Big Booty Barber) who I never let cut my hair, cause if I do I can’t look at her booty from the other chair…random off-topic info. Anyway, I’m asking Jason who the other chick is and he just goes, “No”. I start talking again and he cuts me off “No”, I try a 3rd time and he shakes his head and goes “No”. I’m like “Damn, is this your little sister ?”, and he goes “Trust me on this one”. So, I’m looking over at this weekend and she’s still talking to BBB, and I notice that she’s getting up to leave…the only thing I’m thinking is “Can you cut a little faster, please ? Thank you kindly”. Just as I’m about to tell Jason to hold up for a minute, I notice that the body language was kinda weird between her BBB, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Then, before I had to even try to figure it out, she leans over and gives her a kiss, and walks out of the door. I go very Scooby Doo-like with a “Hunh ?”. I didn’t see that coming at all. Like those Volkswagen commercials with the accidents and stuff. Blindsided. Jason looks at me and goes, “You saw that right ?”. I was flabbergasted. Dumbfounded, even. I can’t believe that Sugarbritches wasn’t there with her man, or her kid. She was there for “C”. That wasn’t even an option. Oh well, that’s the way it goes with me…I have to work Friday & Saturday, anyway.
Triple B – 11, Miguel – 2
I just got home, and flipping the channels I see “SNL:The Very Best Of Eddie Murphy” is on. I’ve been planning to buy this dvd, but I keep forgetting to. This is when Eddie was the funniest nigga alive. I’ll never forget how I was introduced to this cat. I was probably 8, 9 years old and a die-hard WWF fiend…and on the Saturday morning show, they would be showing the promo’s for “Saturday Night’s Main Event”. What ?!?!? Wrestling on tv at night ? I’m all over it ! Asking all the homies on the block, “Hey, you watchin’ Hulk Hogan vs. Iron Sheik tonight ? 11:30, It’s gon’ be fresh…Cage match !”(Yeah niggas, I said “fresh”). Anyways, my dumbass figured that it was gonna be an every week thing. So, the next week I wait for it to come on, and some shit called “Saturday Night Live” comes on. WTF ? Where’s The Hulkster ? I’ve been robbed…maybe it’s coming on afterward. So, fighting to stay awake, I watch this other show. I didn’t get much of it, until this dude comes out pretending to be Mr. Rogers, and it was funny to me. Fast forward to week 3…same story, waiting to say my prayers and take my vitamins like a true Hulkamaniac, and again it wasn’t on, but the Mr. Rogers dude was now dressed like Gumby and talking shit. And it was funny, not because I got the jokes, but because a nigga was actually watching Gumby & Pokey after school everyday, and to see a bad Gumby cracked me up. After about a month, I was watching this shit every week. Mr. Robinson’s neighborhood, Gumby, Shabazz K. Morton ( I actually went to school and told my teacher that the recipe for peanut butter was stolen from George Washington Carver by 2 white dudes named Edward “Skippy” Williamson and Frederick “Jif” Armstrong), James Brown, but what sealed the deal was the Buckwheat skit and the Velvet Jones skits. After that, this Eddie Murphy dude could do no wrong in my book. I was sneaking and listening to my older cousins Eddie Murphy albums and going with them to see his movies (without my mom or grandparents knowing). For those of you out of the loop, here’s a transcript of my favorite skit:
I Wanna Be a Ho – by Velvet Jones, an educator from the Velvet Jones School of Technology.
“Hi, I’m Velvet Jones. Are you a female high school dropout, between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five? Are you tired of lying around in bed all day with nothing to do? Well, you never need get up again, because in six short weeks I can train you to be high paying ho. Just think – fifteen hundred dollars a week, without even leaving the comfort of your own bedroom. Sound too good to be true? Just send for my new book, “I Wanna Be a Ho.”
Additional Velvet Jones publications include “I Wanna Drive a Pink Cadillac, Wear Diamond Rings and Kick Women in the Butt” (The I wanna be a pimp guidebook); The Velvet Jones Harlequin Romance series featuring “Velvet Love” and “Kicked in the Butt by Love”, and an exciting new videocassette entitled “The Exercises of Love”. Yes, it’s all here: the squatting, the thrusting, the grunting and the groaning. Take it from Velvet, these are exercises you will want to watch again and again.
“I won’t deny it, I’m a straight ridah, you don’t wanna fuck with me…”
It’s no secret, I really don’t like my job…at all. Not because it’s difficult or anything, it’s actually easy as shit. It’s just the people who think they’re right all the damn time. My coworkers are cool for the most part, but mgmt are the ones who are ass backwards. Well, except for 2. They’re hella cool. Anyway, today I get into it with the accounting chick, over some missing dollars. Well, I shouldn’t say missing cause I know exactly where it is, and she should know exactly where it is, but people like to pass the buck to cover their own asses.
“To be a soldier, must maintain composure at ease, though life is complicated, only what you make it to be…”
So, we’re going back and forth on the “merry-go-round from hell” conversation. She wants to know:
A. Where the money went ?
B. Why I didn’t ask for help with the paperwork ?
C. Why should she give me the money back ?
And I told her:
A. Where the money is.
B. Why would I ask for help with some shit I never knew existed ?
C. Cut me a check, give me cash, whatever. Bitch, I want my muthafuckin money back.
After I told her, “I did this one on this day, I did this one 2 days later…I never gave you the proper forms because I was never told to do so.” Again, she asks why wasn’t the proper paperwork done. I tell her that I was never told I needed to. Again, she asks why didn’t ask for help. I tell her that I didn’t ask, cause I didn’t know that I needed help…this shit went on for 6.3 minutes. Am I supposed to tap into my “That’s So Raven” psychic abilities and know that something is supposed to be done even though i wasn’t instructed to do so ? That’s like me giving my car keys to my 11 year old godson and sending him to the store for something and getting mad when he hits 6 or 7 cars and/or people on the way to and from the store. Get the fuck outta here. What’s the point of me doing all this paperwork before I go home if no one if gonna look at it ? I mean, that’s where all the answers are. That is why I’m doing it, right? Why am I the only one who recognizes this ? Fuck yo couch, nigga.
“Peep it…it was my only wish to rise above these jealous coward mutherfuckers I despise. When it’s time to ride, I’m the first off of this side, give me the nine. I’m ready to die right here tonight, and motherfuck they life (yeah nigga!)…”
So, basically what I’m led to believe is I’m supposed to know something I was never taught, and it’s my fault for not knowing that someone never showed me. What kind of ignant ass, bizarro world logic is this ? I could see if there was no documentation to show what’s going on, but there is. I have no problems admitting when I’m the one who fucked up, so why can’t other people ? This is the kind of random shit I have to deal with on a daily basis. I can’t wait to get out of there. As soon as one of these gigs in Vegas comes through, I’m out. I’m gonna go out like dude in Half-Baked…”Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you’re cool, and fuck you”. Then stroll out that bitch like George Jefferson 2006. Hey, that rhymed.
“Now it’s yo’ nigga right beside ya, hopin you listenin, I got you payin attention to my ambitions as a ridah…”
here’s a funny:
After a long night of making love, he notices a photo of another man on her
nightstand by the bed.
He begins to worry. “Is this your husband?” he nervously asks.
“No, silly,” she replies, snuggling up to him.
“Your boyfriend, then?” he continues.
“No, not at all,” she says, nibbling away at his ear.
“Is it your dad or your brother?” he inquires, hoping to be reassured.
“No, no, no!!!” she answers.
“Well, who in the hell is he, then?” he demands.
“That’s me before the surgery.”