Two thugs in an alleyway:
#1: Step, Step, pivot, smile, dip… no! How many times are you gonna flex right there when you know it’s dip?!
#2: Sorry, I don’t even know where my head is at.
#1: Maybe the King and I isn’t something you care about anymore. Maybe you’d rather not turn a classic into an all black rock opera that takes us outta the ghetto and away from this life.
#2: You that ain’t true, I just had to bury another homeboy that got caught up in the mix yesterday. Damn this penis!
#1: It wasn’t your dick’s fault that Jerry tried to get a taste and turned to drugs when you denied him. It was wrong, he was family… and you ain’t gay. Now c’mon, from the downbeat…
#2: (sniff) Let’s roll!
I’ve begun planting money in hopes that a money tree will form. If I’m gonna move I will need at least $72 dollars. C’mon money tree.
“No, no more Ziti for me, it’s Ramadan.”
Let us take a moment of silence for the first man to slap a woman’s ass and mean it as a compliment. Respect must also be given to the first freak (in a good way) to take the compliment and sleep with said man. Respect
“Excuse me Miss, but how many times am I going to have to make quips about the day before you ask me my name? I want some Tang and I thought I was being a gentleman about this; but you gon make me go the other way. So, Spain won the World Cup huh?”
Sex is a crafty distraction put in front of us by the Plutonians. Do they know they succeeded? Good question, I prefer to think they didn’t plan how long it would take to get here correctly.
I want Chipotle so bad I’m doing the pee pee dance. Wait… no, apparently I had to urinate. Damn, why do I always guess wrong?
I’ve been listening to Mariya Alexander’s podcast since Friday, I’m addicted. Don’t know why I jumped on the bus so far after everyone else, but me likey. I would like to go on with Jack of All Trades and hear his side of the story. “What story?” Pick one, I guarantee there are plenty of stories in his past worth our time.
Bad grammar makes me grip the hilt of my sword. I’m just old fashioned that’s all.
Harry Belafonte (pictured above, looking just as sensual as always) is the constant in every conga line in the 21st century. Bless him…
“Lotion…” Huh? “Lotion is what someone with ashy hands like your needs most.” Oh, actually I’m just here for stamps, does the post office sell lotion? “Nope, I just didn’t want you to shake someone unsuspecting person’s hand and cut anybody. Stamps are $5.00.”
Looking back, I cabbage patch while getting ready to go anywhere, far too often. I’m totally abusing the running man.
M’kay, I’m off to stare at my soda bottle until it’s lunch time. Hooray!