Cool weekend, not a real eventful one. Got some shopping for my upcoming vacay done. Had some father son time and chilled. My sister’s fiancée cooked on his grill, homie has skill, the potato skins with the bbq pulled chicken was dope. But this guy completely canceled the quality of the meal with the statement that Mos Def and Nelly are similar. NOT IN ANY WAY, I should post your twitter here. Anyway, happy Monday. I’m feeling like taking a page out of Peter Griffins book today. You know what really grinds my gears…You ever get invited to a cookout and when you get there there’s a wonderful spread, all types of salads, fried fish, beer, liquor, every type of condiment and the music is good, there are cool people to talk to, the weather’s great, the mosquitoes aren’t biting and you get to the tray to get your hot dog and hamburger and the moment of truth arrives. “Hey, where’s the cheese for the burgers?’ “Oh, naw, ain’t none.” SON…are you serious?! I know you didn’t invite me to this raggedy (mind you it was perfect 10 seconds ago) house, sent me an evite, got me to bring cups, ice, seafood salad, and some off brand orange soda and you aint got a slice of Kraft American in here. You know what…your mother.
Another group of folks that should take that long walk off a short pier are barbers that put their nuts all on your arm without regard for your maleness. Ask any dude you know that gets his hair cut on a regular basis; there is one rule in the barber chair: Hands in lap. If rule number one is not followed you either a. don’t know the process b. never been there before or c. like some joker’s nuts all on your hand and forearm.
Another set of folks that just make my underarms itch are Tyler Perry fans…they will never let a bruh reach success without a dress, a gun or crack pipe. I think he likes that dress.
You know who else I think should be drown, resuscitated and run over by a truck, parents who dress better than their children. How you gonna step out on the town in a full Gucci (I don’t believe your outfit is real) hook up and your little girl got on all types of Phat Farm, Baby Phat, and USPA (see earlier post). If you got on Jays, little man better have Jays, you got ‘lo he should have ‘lo. PERIOD END OF STORY.
Anyway, no sun today, the Mrs. leaves for an OT trip til Friday, my work Co-pilot is MIA, what a bang up Monday, that being said I still got a job and there is only 58 Days until Dallas Cowboy football and 97 days until they come to Charm City (We gonna turn them lights out). If you ain’t down with that I got 4 Words for you…Your Opinion Is Wrong. Peace