Been a minute, I apologize but I didn’t really have anything amusing to speak of last week. Now that I’ve got a free moment (of joy) let me pick my (metaphorical) d*ck up off the ground.
I’m not too proud to admit that as of yesterday, 07/13/09, I’ve officially joined the Twitter head nation. My last words to my dying father were “I promise I won’t Twitter papa.” Well I lied, I never called him papa and he’s not even dead. That’s what I’m into now, lying for the sport. Join me…
While hitting on me a woman thought I’d find it cute to make fun of how I talk. First thing, I’m happily smitten with my McFidget (my woman). With that said, even if I were single I don’t find that cute. I used to get offended as a kid when people made fun of my lisp because I honestly couldn’t tell I was doing it, then I couldn’t fix it when they told me. But the way I talk is not something I care to change. There is nothing wrong with slang (Ebonics or whatever you want to call it) but I was raised to speak how I do and have no problem with it. Sometimes, like being stuck in SE, it can play against me but I’ll work through those times. If I didn’t talk like this how would I have coined the phrase “Boo Butta”? Cause butter doesn’t exist in Ebonics. Check the dictionary, it’s not in there.
I wonder if Justin Timberlake is somewhere singing SexyBack like I am… yeah, I bet he is.
What is it about Capri Sun that makes you want to violently attack anyone that puts their hands to close to yours? Is it the Riboflavin? Whatever it is, I want to rob a bank for it one day. “Every body grab some sky! Gimme all that Capri Sun $#!T and nobody has to catch this muthaf*cka!”
Last Tuesday ($#!T I haven’t blogged in awhile) was a blast in Richmond for the Clash. It made me happy, big ups to Jessie Thomas and all the Richmond comics out there on their grizzy. Much love, this is Stank Juice… “out.”
Still figuring out how to manipulate this iPhone, turns out the BJ button on the bottom.
I have the perfect app for star gazing now. I hope it doesn’t lead me to rape finish… rape was the number one deterrent of star gazing in 2005. Followed closely by American Idol, oh 2005.
When I went to the bathroom minutes ago, a man I’ve never spoke to spoke to me. I have my headphones in because I hate casual conversation but I didn’t need to know what he said. He was a stranger. In my mind I slapped him to the ground, which has urine on it, and taught him the error of his whore-ish mouthed ways. In reality I went to the bathroom and washed my hands like any other person… but one day.
Lupe Fiasco has blessed us with a new single, if you’re human and think you like rap go download “Shining Down.” If you’re not sure whether you like rap or not, you are a racist. There, no more letting it slide. I like country, what is your problem with my music?
Yesterday Nelson walked up the stairs to our apartment and saw a 7-year-old child singing “Birthday Sex.” He said frankly “Not my son…” but then I asked if he would prefer to walk in on his son singing “Boom Boom Pow” and he was unsure which is better. The only way to ensure your child is just how you want them is to control every facet of their lives. They’re singing in the shower, you come in drumming. They want to go on a date, you just so happen to need something from their favorite restaurant too. Their pissing, you’re shaking… you get where I’m going with this… You roll down the condom yourself. It’s the only way, if you want to get it right.
I find that you don’t need to say very much to disgust someone. Here; “Guerilla Handjob.” You’re welcome.
Ryan Reynolds is the Green Lantern… I’m not sure how to feel about that. But one thing is for sure… Arturo Gatti didn’t deserve the death he got. Nor did Steve McNair, wtf is happening to women that they need to kill people in their sleep? Do that $#!T mid-stroke.
Oops, I zoned out and had an erection. I’m back now.
I’m going now, but we’ll do this again real soon. Free Willy, yes I mean the movie… it was a f’n classic.
Peaces
I’m not too proud to admit that as of yesterday, 07/13/09, I’ve officially joined the Twitter head nation. My last words to my dying father were “I promise I won’t Twitter papa.” Well I lied, I never called him papa and he’s not even dead. That’s what I’m into now, lying for the sport. Join me…
While hitting on me a woman thought I’d find it cute to make fun of how I talk. First thing, I’m happily smitten with my McFidget (my woman). With that said, even if I were single I don’t find that cute. I used to get offended as a kid when people made fun of my lisp because I honestly couldn’t tell I was doing it, then I couldn’t fix it when they told me. But the way I talk is not something I care to change. There is nothing wrong with slang (Ebonics or whatever you want to call it) but I was raised to speak how I do and have no problem with it. Sometimes, like being stuck in SE, it can play against me but I’ll work through those times. If I didn’t talk like this how would I have coined the phrase “Boo Butta”? Cause butter doesn’t exist in Ebonics. Check the dictionary, it’s not in there.
I wonder if Justin Timberlake is somewhere singing SexyBack like I am… yeah, I bet he is.
What is it about Capri Sun that makes you want to violently attack anyone that puts their hands to close to yours? Is it the Riboflavin? Whatever it is, I want to rob a bank for it one day. “Every body grab some sky! Gimme all that Capri Sun $#!T and nobody has to catch this muthaf*cka!”
Last Tuesday ($#!T I haven’t blogged in awhile) was a blast in Richmond for the Clash. It made me happy, big ups to Jessie Thomas and all the Richmond comics out there on their grizzy. Much love, this is Stank Juice… “out.”
Still figuring out how to manipulate this iPhone, turns out the BJ button on the bottom.
I have the perfect app for star gazing now. I hope it doesn’t lead me to rape finish… rape was the number one deterrent of star gazing in 2005. Followed closely by American Idol, oh 2005.
When I went to the bathroom minutes ago, a man I’ve never spoke to spoke to me. I have my headphones in because I hate casual conversation but I didn’t need to know what he said. He was a stranger. In my mind I slapped him to the ground, which has urine on it, and taught him the error of his whore-ish mouthed ways. In reality I went to the bathroom and washed my hands like any other person… but one day.
Lupe Fiasco has blessed us with a new single, if you’re human and think you like rap go download “Shining Down.” If you’re not sure whether you like rap or not, you are a racist. There, no more letting it slide. I like country, what is your problem with my music?
Yesterday Nelson walked up the stairs to our apartment and saw a 7-year-old child singing “Birthday Sex.” He said frankly “Not my son…” but then I asked if he would prefer to walk in on his son singing “Boom Boom Pow” and he was unsure which is better. The only way to ensure your child is just how you want them is to control every facet of their lives. They’re singing in the shower, you come in drumming. They want to go on a date, you just so happen to need something from their favorite restaurant too. Their pissing, you’re shaking… you get where I’m going with this… You roll down the condom yourself. It’s the only way, if you want to get it right.
I find that you don’t need to say very much to disgust someone. Here; “Guerilla Handjob.” You’re welcome.
Ryan Reynolds is the Green Lantern… I’m not sure how to feel about that. But one thing is for sure… Arturo Gatti didn’t deserve the death he got. Nor did Steve McNair, wtf is happening to women that they need to kill people in their sleep? Do that $#!T mid-stroke.
Oops, I zoned out and had an erection. I’m back now.
I’m going now, but we’ll do this again real soon. Free Willy, yes I mean the movie… it was a f’n classic.
Peaces
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