$4.09 for ONE MFin' gallon of REGULAR gasoline .......in my best Clay Davis voice "Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet"
]]>Funny how no one is really talking about our Next President. Did anybody notice that a black man is actually going to be the Democratic Nominee. A light skinned, purple lipped, regular American mulato with a real black wife is set to be our next Commander in Chief! I can see it now....a 1995 Ford Probe in the front yard, kool-aid in the pantry, and perm in the bathroom. There will be 4 black folk living in the "white house"....imagine the scene. Saturday morning bacon on the stove, cartoons on the TV, rollers in the 1st Lady's hair, and Daddy (the president) in a pair of boxers, some raggedy ass dark blue house-shoes and a dew rag. As the Proud Family plays on the TV, George Clinton plays on the radio...and the country is a better place for it.....on a serious note, please make your voices heard. Cast a ballot for change and progress. The Bush administration is not on your side. The common man is in BIG trouble. John Mccain is more of the same.....we must do the right thing for us and our children. Life is too short for lies and war and poverty. The world is upside down because of our leadership in this country! Obama I'm 08.......its not too late for a new direction.......
]]>Well here we are again my people. Alchohol will turn a perfectly peaceful BBQ into the MF'N OK coral. So .....we're all sitting around(Me, Hard Work and his Lady, Big Daddy Kane, The Rifleman, Cleveland, Ski and his wife, Danger Mouse ((more on him in a minute)) and that extremely pretty, slightly deranged looking chick we will call "Grindels Momma" ((DM's older sister))) eating some good food & drinkin some beer, when all of a sudden DM grew some of the biggest beer muscles I have ever seen in my life. DM and The Rifleman had been talking and playing cards all day and out of the blue they walk out front with "Mama" in hot pursuit. We all kinda just brushed it off....didnt seem normal...didnt seem abnormal. Well before anybody could say "What the Fuck?" DM is outside (in a very quiet neighborhood) yelling and screaming some of the most viscous, foul, dirty shit I have EVER heard at the top of his lungs, challenging The Rifleman (90 Lbs. Bigger, 10 years older, and 10 inches taller) to a fight. I mean Danger Mouse is really trying to fight the Rifleman and we are all doing our best to stop the chippin'.... me and Cleveland are just trying to get this drunk nigga in the car and on his way.....well let's just say Danger Mouse finally got what he wanted. The Rifleman dropped his ass in the middle of the street and then was kind enough to let him go on his way with most of his dignity intact. So finally afer much yelling, screaming, and some of the most colorful language you will ever hear, DM and Momma speed off, much to everyones relief. We all go back in the yard and resume the "festivities" while we try to figure out what just happened. Well not even 10 minutes later DM and his punk ass little sister (Bitch-a-rella) come back...that's right...DM CAME BACK...with his LITTLE SISTER!! Well, he gets out the car in front of the Riflemans house screaming for someone to come give him a fair one. Me, Cleveland, and Hard Work go outside to squash this mess and they jump back in the car and speed off, almost running into a little BMW with a sweet looking middle aged woman in the drivers seat. Well this "sweet" lady is being followed by a pick up truck with a middle aged gentelman at the wheel. Said woman pulls up.....and its none other than DM, Momma, and Bitcharella's, nutball ass momma...Crazy. And I quote...Crazy: "Which one of yall hit my son?!", Hardwork: "Ms., your son was here starting trouble, we tried to get him to leave..." Crazy: "Fuck that, yall are grown, he's just a kid" Hard Work: "Whoa, hes TWENTY FIVE years old, he's an ADULT." ..... it gets a little fuzzy from there because crazy just starts talking well......CRAZY. Poor Dad is trying to be reasonable, but this bitch is CRAZY!!!! So they leave and we go back to chillaxin in the yard. Well, here is where it gets really stupid. Outta fucking nowhere, right as the sun is going down and all the negative energy has dissapated, here come voices from the side of the yard...."Yall jumped my nigga? Come jump me!!" We all got up from the table and walked over to the fence. Hard Work is trying to talk to these ignorant negroes (who Hard Work, Ski and his Wife all know) and they are hearing NONE OF IT. Now they're coming over the fence and they aint coming to play cards....so all hell breaks loose, niggas throwing punches, slabs of rock flying in the air, cops in route....the whole nine yards. Next thing you know ......The Rifleman lets off 2 shots in the air and niggas scatter. The cops show up with MACHINE guns and start trying to round up the posse of assholes that just ruined the party. I must say the cops were real COOL. They knew what it was and pretty much just took everyones statements and went on thier way looking for the dummies who had just ran off. After they left we were outside cleaning up when Crazy and Bitcharella come back....AGAIN. Crazy has a golf club and Bitcharella has an aluminum bat. Crazy threatens to come back with "34 People, and some police friends" to fuck us up. By this time Travelocity had shown up and me, him and the Rifleman just stood there in stunned silence......we just got threatened by someones crazy ass MOMMA......it becomes CRYSTAL clear at that point that the coconut does not fall far from the tree! Needless to say the next BBQ will not include anyone outside of the inner circle of grown men and women who like to have a good, bullet free time on a nice quiet culdesac in the middle of what is fast becoming the fucking hood! The moral to the story is BBQ, BEER, and Bullets do not a good time make! Alcohol is truly a MOTHERFUCKER.......
]]>Niggas and niggets.....please please please respect my "3 ft. Rule" at all times. Why do drunk people (alchohol is evil) always feel a need to MAKE you talk to them? Why must you touch me? I really don't get it. My ears work just fine.....in fact the more you tap me, push me, lean on me, and just generally invade my personal space, the Less I want to talk to your dumb ass. Don't touch me. If I'm ignoring you its probably because I heard you say the same shit you're saying now 10 times earlier! Drinking and talking is not for everyone. You may be one of those people. I just don't want you touching me nigga. Period. At all. Ever. For anything. Seriously.......and shut the fuck up you drunk bastard! You're not making sense...your breath is funky, you said that already, I don't give a shit, your loud, and I'm doing what I'm doing right now. Please please please, Mr. Drunk Ass of the year...again....just give me my 3 feet of space. I beg thee.........