Thanks

~

Jesus taught me to do many things. Among these nuggets of wisdom, be nice to people, give thanks whenever possible, don't stereotype others, and never get in between a black man and his watermelon.

This has been a banner year for me in that I feel I've executed God's will to the best of my abilities. And when you're on top of your Jesus game it makes you realize how much better you are than others.

But still, even one as close to on par with Jesus as I am, I have plenty to be thankful for. I shall now bless you with a short list.

1. Thank you, shitty drivers. (Women, black women, foreigners) If it weren't for your continued butchery of all things considered proper on the roadways I don't think I could maintain the impressive level of inner anger necessary to keep from falling asleep.

2. Thank you, everyone born after 1980. You're overall lack of awareness and your profound sense of entitlement is impressive. When coupled with your amazing level of laziness these qualities fuel my burning desire to live long enough and work hard enough so that someday I will have enough money to avoid jail time after punching every single one of you floppy haired douchebags square in your deer-in-headlights slack-jawed faces.

3. Thank you, Jews. You know what for.

So in conclusion I would like to add an additional set of thank you's to everyone I missed, though I think the above list captures almost everyone.

I could have done it without you, but it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun.

Now we move on towards Christmas and a brand new year. I hope your year has been as good as mine and a hearty IN YOUR FACE! if it wasn't.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

My New Book For 8 Year Olds

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(Chapters 1 and 2 appear at the bottom of this post in case you missed when these were posted.)

Chapter 3. This is daddy's cup. You can't drink from this and if you tell mommy about it I will take away your phone.

You see, there are certain things I've tried to teach you that you only need to remember for a few more years. Like, that there's a Santa Claus. Or that the Easter Bunny is real. Or that Jesus died for your sins. (He totally only died for Janie's sins. LOL, just kidding. Jesus doesn't exist!)

This whole "your cup" or "daddy's cup" thing is only just so you learn to drink what we put in front of you and that you don't lose focus and want to drink something else instead. It's important that you drink what we give you for a couple reasons. One, it'll make you big and strong so that someday you will grow to the size you're supposed to be. Ultimately, you'll be healthier and stronger if you drink your cup every day. The other reason, and possibly more important reason, is that I must establish who the master is. I am the master. You will do as I say, little monkey. If I yell "DANCE!" then you will dance, monkey. If I say you have to "go to bed," you go to bed. If I say "eat your vegetables," you eat your vegetables. If I say "shut your little whore mouth," then I'm talking to your mother. Completely disregard that command.

Chapter 4. Give me that phone. How old do you think you are?

Who gave you this phone, anyways? Was it your mother? Because that would explain things. Our money has gotta be going somewhere. I make it and deposit it and then sometime soon after our balance has somehow become lower than your mom's sagging tits. Here's the thing. You think you need a phone to keep in contact with your friends but here's a little hint for you. In fifteen years you won't know any of these people. Honestly. Daddy didn't get to be this old and savvy without being able to read people.

That friend of yours, Hannah, will be pregnant before her sophmore year. Mark it down. Kimmy? I'm pretty sure she's mildly retarded so she won't even be attending the same school as you. Tina? Criminal. Remember these words: She will be scissoring her cellmate before you finish college, and that's a guarantee.

What daddy is trying to say is that people go their separate ways all the time. You're young. You may end up at different schools, playing different sports, and ultimately finding a whole new group of people you connect with.

Which brings me back to your phone.

You're lucky that criminal Tina hasn't stolen it from you yet. I'm telling you...criminal. There's nobody that needs to get a hold of you who can't call you at home or grab your attention at school. You're dependent upon mommy and daddy for everything. Mommy gave you that phone because she's compensating for all the things she didn't have when she was a kid like money, new clothes, friends, dignity. You need to text "LOL" to Kimmy about as much as your mother needs another donut. Gimme that phone and go do your homework.

Chapters also featured in the hardcover edition.

Chapter 5. The gypsies are real and if you don't behave I will give you to them.

Chapter 6. If you want to dress like a slut then I'll treat you like a slut. Wait, what?

Chapter 7. Basic Geometry

~

Chapter 1. Daddy isn't buying you a dog because, although you won't understand if for a few years, you don't really give a shit if you have a dog or not.

Sure, you think you want a dog right now because that little slut Janie down the street has one. Nobody likes to be outdone by Janie. I know this. But all of those traits that make Janie the one to look up to now are the same traits that will ultimately make Janie the high school cum dumpster. Oh, I know this is a little above your head and you may be thinking that even that would be pretty cool. Actually, it is pretty cool. For (and during) high school it is. But after high school is over Janie is going to be the one desperately clinging to those years and never moving ahead.

And you know what?

Janie will still have that goddamn shed-monster of a dog. Is that what you want? To be washed up at 20, still having to clean piss off the floor of your parent's basement (this is where you will be living) every time your dog decides you haven't shown it enough attention? Good, now go play in the other room and let daddy and his computer have some adult time.

Chapter 2. The real world isn't a television show. It's an actual world. That is real. That is also 30 feet away from you. Drop the snack and turn the goddamn television off. It's time to go play in the yard.

Look, don't get me wrong. I'm happy that at age 8 you can create a facebook profile, blog, and figure out how to talk to your friends via webcam. It's impressive. Daddy can't hardly figure out how to maximize the screen of the porn he's trying to watch without somehow finding out he's purchased a year long subscription to Spunk Mouth. Thankfully he doesn't know how to unsubscribe either, but that's not the point.

You need to get out more.

I would have thought my Italian heritage would have come through better but your skin is paler than your mom's tits. Though I'm just speculating because officer Jenkins tells me it's no longer acceptable to get within 200 yards of her and also that looking into windows at night (Even if they were bought by you!) is something called "peeping" and it's illegal. At any rate, you need some sun. The glow of the computer screen is turning you into an 8 year old version of your mother. Without the frigidness, of course.

So what can you do? Plenty of things! You can rake the pavement like that retarded boy down the street. You can sell that blind kid in the wheelchair your crappy baseball cards like daddy does. You can do anything you want! So long as it involves the sun, interaction with others at some point, and a promise that you won't come back inside unexpectedly so daddy has enough time to put away any incriminating adult items.

~

Home Alone

~

Home all alone this week and I must say I've been getting a lot of things accomplished. There's the studying and understanding of such insanely exciting things like Von Willenbrands Factor, the Circle of Willis, and Thrombotic Thrombocytopenic PurPura. There is also the equally interesting uncovering and study of exciting new streaming porn videos, not to mention afternoon beers and naps.

I've also been working on improving my comfort while studying on the couch (Built a kick-ass pillow support system) and have developed new theories on the best way to study out of a binder while maximizing your ability to fall quickly and comfortably asleep when it's deemed necessary without having to move.

Yes, it IS possible to fall asleep while studying from a large binder without waking up moments later because the plastic is digging into your arm. It's possible, you just have to want it.

Don't ever give up, I just now started saying.

Well, time to go. These chapters don't read themselves.

Plus the sheets are done drying and it's time to build a fort!

~

Blogging

~

Interesting that one can blog from their phone these days. It's almost as easy as pie. Which I never thought was easy but what am I, some sort of pie expert?

I do so much on my iPhone that I really only need a few more applications and I'll never have to speak to people again. Early thought on the subject reveals a need for a text to voice app and maybe a wider screen for porn.

I figure I only need to wait maybe six months and apple nerds around the world will have that taken care of. On my side I really only need to do one thing.

Find new porn.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Up Early

~

Maybe that's what it takes to get me to write these days.

Spent last night with Elizabeth (Q if you're Cerbin) at Ruth Chris Steakhouse. Pretty impressive on my part since she's a vegetarian, but then again if you've ever seen my Blue Steel you'd understand how I convinced her.

If you don't know about the movie Zoolander and what "Blue Steel" refers to in that movie consider this a reference to my Thrice Confirmed Huge Junk.

Although it's entirely possible she went with me because we had a $100 gift card to use. It was one or the other.

Thankfully she'll eat fish. This meant a delicious shrimp appetizer, tuna sashimi, and thai chili onion rings to start. I followed that up with a bone-in ribeye. I was, after all, at a steakhouse. I fought the desire to ask them for extra butter on the 500 degree plate they serve their steaks on.

On Sportscenter just now they showed a highlight of Joe Montana's kid throwing a touchdown to Will Smith's kid. What the hell? I feel like I just got done watching Joe Montana play football a few years ago. And Will Smith should have nothing older than a 10 year old. What's wrong with the universe that everything around me is growing up faster than I am?

HOLY FUCK!!!!111

Penis jokes are still funny, right?!? Anyone? Penis jokes???

I decided to look some stuff up for all 4 of you who read this. You might want to sit down, lest your mind be blown straight out your asshole.

IT HAS BEEN ALMOST 16 YEARS SINCE OJ KILLED (ALLEGEDLY) NICOLE BROWN SIMPSON AND RON GOLDMAN!

During this time you could have raised a child from scratch (medical term) and your little disrespectful floppy-haired douchebag of a kid would be in high school driving his car to and from his other "different by being the same" mop-headed mildly retarded always writing in text shortcuts slack-jawed moron friend's houses trying pot together and probably raping girls with their other lacrosse buddies while you sit at home getting fat and blaming it all on AD/HD and not on your lack of parenting skills and inability to use birth control.

Or you could have gone to college FOUR times! Of course, this would only be possible if you were like, full Comanche. Or, apparently, if you were foreign. Somehow all you need for a couple Escalades, two liquor stores, a gas station, and what appears to be enough money that you could just constantly go to college, is to be foreign. And if I'm wrong how do you explain EVERY LIQUOR STORE AND GAS STATION AND DUNKIN DONUTS IN, WELL, EVERY STATE!

Man, it's like they hand them out with your green card.

IT'S BEEN ALMOST 14 YEARS SINCE THAT CHICK JEWEL BOMBED THE OLYMPICS!

I've always maintained that her fucked up "Jewel Tooth" is evil. It just sits there, half hidden by her "look at me I'm a harmless shitty poet-singer-songwriter" grin, but when you can catch a glimpse of it you can see it. A dark, mangled, evil portal to hell.

Of this I'm certain.

Jewel and her evil Jewel Tooth definitely pipe-bombed the Olympic Park in Atlanta.

You will not be able to convince me otherwise. Hell, she even ruined the life of that security guard who they blamed. Damn, what was his name? Richard something, right?

IT'S BEEN 8 YEARS SINCE THE SEPTEMBER 11TH ATTACKS!

In this time you could have done...well...not much. It's only been 8 years. What am I, some sort of Asian math whiz or something? I've got shit to watch on TV and some frozen burritos that aren't going to eat themselves, compadre.

So you get my point, I hope, that time flies faster than our minds seem to age. That's probably a good thing. Or maybe not. What do I know? I'm just up early and trying to write something for the first time in what seems like 3 days.

Excerpts From my New Book for 8 Year Olds

~

Chapter 1. Daddy isn't buying you a dog because, although you won't understand if for a few years, you don't really give a shit if you have a dog or not.

Sure, you think you want a dog right now because that little slut Janie down the street has one. Nobody likes to be outdone by Janie. I know this. But all of those traits that make Janie the one to look up to now are the same traits that will ultimately make Janie the high school cum dumpster. Oh, I know this is a little above your head and you may be thinking that even that would be pretty cool. Actually, it is pretty cool. For (and during) high school it is. But after high school is over Janie is going to be the one desperately clinging to those years and never moving ahead.

And you know what?

Janie will still have that goddamn shed-monster of a dog. Is that what you want? To be washed up at 20, still having to clean piss off the floor of your parent's basement (this is where you will be living) every time your dog decides you haven't shown it enough attention? Good, now go play in the other room and let daddy and his computer have some adult time.

Chapter 2. The real world isn't a television show. It's an actual world. That is real. That is also 30 feet away from you. Drop the snack and turn the goddamn television off. It's time to go play in the yard.

Look, don't get me wrong. I'm happy that at age 8 you can create a facebook profile, blog, and figure out how to talk to your friends via webcam. It's impressive. Daddy can't hardly figure out how to maximize the screen of the porn he's trying to watch without somehow finding out he's purchased a year long subscription to Spunk Mouth. Thankfully he doesn't know how to unsubscribe either, but that's not the point.

You need to get out more.

I would have thought my Italian heritage would have come through better but your skin is paler than your mom's tits. Though I'm just speculating because officer Jenkins tells me it's no longer acceptable to get within 200 yards of her and also that looking into windows at night (Even if they were bought by you!) is something called "peeping" and it's illegal. At any rate, you need some sun. The glow of the computer screen is turning you into an 8 year old version of your mother. Without the frigidness, of course.

So what can you do? Plenty of things! You can rake the pavement like that retarded boy down the street. You can sell that blind kid in the wheelchair your crappy baseball cards like daddy does. You can do anything you want! So long as it involves the sun, interaction with others at some point, and a promise that you won't come back inside unexpectedly so daddy has enough time to put away any incriminating adult items.

Eat That Watermelon

~

It's no big mystery that I spend half the year as a black man (and the other half as a tiny Korean woman) so it shouldn't be a surprise that I like me some watermelon.

For half the year, at least.

Its soft texture and sweet taste is the perfect pairing with a crispy and savory piece of fried chicken. Goes down good, as well, with Old English or after a hard days work on the basketball court not passing and convincing absolutely nobody that I'm Lebron James.

I think part of why I like it so much is you can eat it with one hand. This allows my other hand to stay down around my crotch. You know, for clutching every so often. Also, in case my pants somehow rise above mid thigh and attempt to cover most of the boxers I'm wearing, it's nice to have a free hand for proper adjustments.

I also like the fact watermelon has seeds. Seeds are good for spittin'. I like spittin'. I spit rhymes most of the day, including (but not limited to) when I'm grabbing my crotch, when I'm not grabbing my crotch, when I'm hanging out on street corners looking ornery, while in stairwells, late night at convenience stores, etc.

Maybe the only time I don't enjoy watermelon is when I'm at the movies. It's dark in there, and because I dress to the nines at all times I can't afford to spill any watermelon juice on my brand new Jordans. Besides, movies are for talkin'. DON'T GO IN THERE, BITCH! IT'S A TRAP!

Ahhh, I loves me some movies. Can't ever remember what they were about when I leave, but my friends and I always have a great time.

Normally when I'm discussing the finer points of watermelon I forget this one, but if you cut your melon correctly you can even set it down on the sidewalk when it's your turn to throw the dice. The skin protects the melon! Truly amazing.

Have you ever tried to slam your hands down on the table to yell "DOMINOES MUTHAFUCKA!!!" and your fruit goes rolling off the card table that you set up on Pooky's front porch? Yeah, I thought so. Cut you some watermelon the right way and you won't have that problem. Goddamn, I love me some watermelon!

Honestly, it's the perfect hand held treat for anywhere I go. Look, I made a list of typical places I might go and watermelon is good at all of them!

In line at the club. CHECK!
Pooky's front porch. CHECK!
Random street corners. CHECK!
KFC. CHECK!
Buffalo Wild Wings on .50c wing nights. CHECK!
Barbershop. CHECK!

Man, I just reread that list and became enamored with watermelon all over again!

So, it goes with saying that I was a little surprised (I peed myself a little. Don't tell Pooky or Ray Ray) when I saw my two favorite rappers, Lil Soulja and Lil Backflip, rapping about how delicious watermelon is. I was, however, a little offended. I mean, come on guys. It's the year 2009. Don't you think it was a little inappropriate to wear one pant leg up? Man, that was so 1995...