It was a fun weekend...

Well, what can I say about the weekend that isn’t summed up by the photo above. Courtney brought the funny, and was black. I tried not to ruin the flow of the evening… and was also black. Eric Schwartz was really cool and I always respect someone that can kill and stay clean… and he was bald. Thought I was going to say something else didn’t you? I’m as unpredictable as a Chipotle $#!T.

Today I was making a joke to a couple of friends about a dead co-worker’s fiancé… I’ll spare the details but it was hilarious (oh, my soul hurts). Anyway, we came around a corner on the complete opposite side of the building and were face to face with said co-worker… everyone stopped laughing and that was a dead give away. I’m not proud of everything I do and say, but I can’t change who I am. Love me…

I’ve had that Sinead O’Connor song “Nothing compares to you” stuck in my head for the better part of 48 hours. So this is what hell is like, damn these… (what are they called again? Oh yeah) emotions.

I’m happy to announce that my system is completely clean of any badness (use your imagination… and no, I’m not on crack, sadly that was my mother’s first guess when I was 19). I’m running for mayor…

Dear Murray’s Hair Grease person,

My name is Tyler Richardson and would like to take a moment of your time. First, let me say “thank you.” It was not until I met a man whose waves made me so jealous I had to sit him down and pluck his brain (and waves) to find out how I could be beautiful too that I knew you’re sweet touch. But, once I’d lathered up my palms full of your sweet nectar, I knew that I’d never use Sportin’ Waves again. Before your hair gel I was 5’1, 98 lbs. and had never kissed a woman. Now that I am beautiful and “silky smooth”( – The Zohan) I’m 7’3, 875 lbs. and get so much p*ssy even my mother calls me “Mo B*tches.” I have you to thank for that. I was being mugged the other night and when they stuck the gun in my back I spun around and grease flew of my waves and blinded the would-be thugs. I kept my favorite wallet full of my nice credit cards and that hooligan will never see again, at least according to the doctors. Plus, I kicked the $#!T out of his nuts for pointing a gun at me, you know I keep it real gangsta. Anyway, I don’t wanna pole jock too hard or nuffin’, see how my slang has improved thanks to your grease, so I’m a bounce. Thanks again, and stop snitchin’. One

Gangsta Jesus… Nelson’s going to draw it and I’m going to wear the shirt because the image is too hilarious for me to describe. Remember, God created humor… he’s got one too.

For any readers with T-Mobile, do not buy their Equipment Protection Plan. After many conversations and wasted energy I found out that even though I’ve paid for that for the past four years… it is in fact wallet rape. They took my money with a promise to love me. Then when I told them my phone is acting funny, they give me the run around with talk of a “claim” and wanted me to install my own trackball (for those without a BlackBerry, it’s important). Now I know how an innocent young woman feels when she goes out with a sweet guy who turns into Chester the Molester. T-Mobile asked me kindly to open my wallet, and when I did, they placed their penis in it and starting ramming without a care. They didn’t care how much it hurt, that I needed lube or that I have a new boyfriend named AT&T who is going to treat me a lot better shortly. And what really hurts is that I loved them. T-Mobile, you broke my heart. I’m going to get my new boyfriend to slit your tires.

Atif, I’m excited that you finally have Gears 2, sorry I got so busy this weekend. But perhaps tonight after I see my babycakes or tomorrow night where I finally get to come straight home and chillax I can give you a tour. Practice up Atif, we go to war… and in war there is no such thing as a condom. That doesn’t make sense, but you know what I mean… it’s gonna be fun.

When I took my momula (mother) and grannyikens (grandma) out to a Japanese steakhouse I felt good. I greeted them with roses and got big hugs and kisses. How did my mother repay me? After I said “Order whatever you like” I proceeded to get the most expensive meal in the joint. When the chef (I hope that’s what we call the men who entertain, it’d be weird to call them a fry cook) put my first piece of LOBSTER on my plate my mother came quickly for it with a fork. Bare in mind that she too could’ve had the lobster if she chose. I controlled my selfish ways, cause she of all people knows that eating off my plate is outlawed. But then she turned to my 13 year-old-non pregnant sister who for some reason was at our Mother’s Day dinner, and said “Mmm, you have got to try some of this lobster.” I don’t recall exactly what I whispered, but let’s say it had the same effect as me standing on the table and urinating over my food to show territory. No more forks came round my plate on that night. Sorry to be so vulgar, but the lobster was good, and she ate it. Sigh, the life of a selfish man is no easy one.

Poop… there, I said it. It’s still funny to me.

Hey Huntsville, AL: 1 year, I still feel like I could pick up the phone and call him. Weird, that’s really all that I can say. I still think about him all the time though. I look at his cell phone number every time I get ready to call my grandma. I’m glad you still read, it reminds me of him the same way reading might remind you.

Alright everyone, I’m going to get some work done.

Peaces