Today I am twenty two years old. Two nights ago I was still twenty one, throwing up blue alcohol. Woo.
That is 1/3 of my household. She’s wonderful. I had a lot of fun Saturday night. Went to dinner with 20+ of my close friends and fam. Didn’t expect some of those people to show! Thanks for coming. I’m kinda bummed about some people not showing up, but what am I gonna do? It’s all good! Got drunk, took some pictures, talked my shit, wore my dunks. Chea. Speaking of dunkssss, my roommates hooked me up with the purple pigeons that I foolishly passed on several months ago. I was touched. I’m wearing them now, even though it looks like it’s gonna rain. All is well, though. I’ve got my rainbows in my backpack just in case.
Ha! I’m actually going to contribute something to work in the coming weeks. We’re working on something with a gigantic company who likes to throw money around. They want to do something that involves the sneaker culture. That is where I come in! Stay tuned.
1.) My Dad. He’s convinced that I’m headed in the wrong direction, hanging out with the wrong crowd, and that I’m wasting my life. I don’t get it though. I have a job, I don’t do drugs, and my friends are all good people. If they weren’t, I wouldn’t surround myself with them. He’s not talking to me anymore. Big whoop, he’ll get over it. See, he’s not happy with me because I didn’t choose to be a doctor, lawyer, or some kind of chemist. He’s old school, and he only wants the best for me…as long as he approves. You know the deal. It pisses him off that I kinda deaded all that nonsense, and did what I wanted to do. I’m happy doing my thing, and if he doesn’t dig it…tough shit. I bend over for no one.
2.) My friend Ali and I are trying to come up with our own top ‘10 rap songs ever’ list. This is rather difficult because I have to leave out a lot of my personal favorites due to content, and impact and such. Our lists will most definitely be very different from one another’s. I’m looking forward to see what I can come up with. One song on my list is “Triumph” by Wu-Tang.
3.) Girlies, rub on your titties! Yeah, fuck it! I said it! Rub on your titties.
Things would be a lot easier if people women didn’t follow speed limits. Last night I had the worst freeway driving experience ever. EVER. I don’t understand why you feel the need to drive 45 miles per hour in the fast lane, ON A FREEWAY THAT WAS DESIGNED FOR YOU TO GO AS FAST AS YOU CAN. The German scientists who designed it are probably severely disappointed at pussies who use their brakes. I’ve never seen the one-time on the 110, it’s a three lane freeway with no shoulder lane. They won’t bother pulling you over. Women should be banned from driving. They ruin everything.
What is it about rappers not knowing how to pronounce the word “hypnotize?” There is no “ma” sound in that word at all. Biggie was smart enough to not even attempt to pronounce it. Anyway, “Ayo Technology” is dope. A song about face sitting. That’s my kind of shit.
I hope they never stumble upon this blog! So our printer was out of ink, and because we don’t have an intern anymore, I’m the office bitch. Went to Best Buy, they didn’t have ink. I got excited because that meant I got to venture over to the Target that was right next door! Anyone who goes to the Target on La Brea & Santa Monica knows that there are some fine ass broads there buying things to make their little apartments look all cute and such. I wandered around for a few minutes before I went to find the ink I needed. I saw some tasty skeezoids in the cleaning supplies, and pet isles.
White mid-soles are the devil! I am a shoe head. Mostly just a Nike SB head, but a ‘head’ nonetheless. I’ve got this problem with getting the mid-soles of my shoes dirty. The carpeting in my automobile is rather shitty, so when I’m pressing gas pedals, my foot is angled in such a way where the mid-sole touches the carpeting, so there’ a stupid spot on most of my shoes. Lately I’ve been throwing down a paper towel, or piece of news paper down on it so that doesn’t happen. I don’t mind looking stupid. My shoes gotta stay clean, trick.
I don’t have much to say today. I’m actually doing stuff at work.
Words from the preternatural Project Pat. Haha. I was just looking at my iTunes play list, and I realized I’ve got Project Pat sitting on top of Public Enemy’s name. I laughed for a few minutes because Stop Snitchin’ comes right before Countdown to Armageddon. Right now I’m listening to some alternate version of Gel & Weave. There’s a brilliant intro by La Chat on this on. DJ Paul touched this beat up somethin’ serious too. In Bay layman’s terms, “That beat go.”
My birthday is in exactly one week! I will be 22 years old. Getting up there. 8 years ago, I was a freshman in highschool. Yikes. I thought I’d be dead before 21, cause, you know..I grew up in the hood, I sell drugs, and I’m in a gang and all that. Seriously though, 2007 has been nothing but positive when I think about it. Best year of my existence yet. I came out of my shell. I met some great people this year. I pursued, and attained, some of my goals (Going to MI, moving out to L.A., overcoming a pretty serious anxiety issue, not wasting any bullets etc.) I had some fun times! Went to Coachella, Saw Mastodon & Against Me! at the Wiltern two days later. Got duped into buying tickets to a supposed Guns N Roses reunion at the Key Club, and of course..it was bullshit. Izzy and Duff came out to play some songs with a GNR cover band, but that was it. Went to my first Warped Tour. I only went for them 17 year old future prospects if you know what I mean. I went to Rock the Bells to see the entire Wu-Tang Clan, and RATM for a second time. That was disappointing. I’m e-rambling. I’m looking to have a good time with some close friends this Saturday. That’s all.
I didn’t blog over the weekend because I only get paid for this Mon-Fri. Actually, I don’t get paid for this. I just assume that I do because I do nothing at work. I’ve already been here for 3 hours, and I’m just waiting around for someone to give me something to do. I think it’s time for change, seriously. My weekend was pretty busy. Friday was filled with shit talkin’. Saturday and Sunday were reserved for sports, and more shit talkin’. Bought a few CDs on Sunday..Epiphany by T-Pain, Fancy Footwork by Chromeo, and Art Official Intelligence: Mosaic Thump by De La Soul. I thought the De La shit was out of print, so I picked that up with the quickness. I think I’m the first person to ever buy that combination in the history of music purchases. I was just looking at the word count of this blog. That shit trips me out. Remember in 5th and 6th grade when you had to write those 300-400 word essays, and you’d struggle with it at the end because you made all your points at the very beginning? I hated those fucking things. Maybe it was just my elementary school. I’m at three hundred words now. I hated elementary school. I was an underachiever when it came to most subjects. I held things down in spelling and history. But math, science, and paying attention were not my thing. Had some fun times in 6th grade. One time I successfully jerked off (also successfully jerked off in 8th grade science during movie time) during our silent reading time. Some girl was sitting next to me too. I hope she noticed, little ho.
Ha, some of my female friends have read this blog and been like “Misogyny? Acting like an asshole? You? You’re a sweetheart!” Wrong, birds. I am garbage. The worst of the worst. I mean, I don’t hit women (that hard) but I’m no saint. If that ass looks right, I’m going to palm it in the middle of Barnes & Noble. I say the worst things in public. Just last night I was at Gordon Biersch with my amigo, Ali, and I was talking about how I would jam three fingers up the ass of the hostess. She had ass like whoa. Ass so fat that you could see it from the front. I went into detail too, using hand motions and such. I didn’t realize there was a server behind us..she looked mortified when I glanced at her after I realized she was standing there. Oh well. It’s her loss for not asking for my phone number.
Seven Hundred and sixty nine words. Damn. That’s two fifth grade essays.
My tickets for Vegoose have been purchased! Fuck rent! I’m really excited. I went to Coachella earlier this year, and I have to say that was my best concert-going experience thus far. We’ll see how Vegoose goes. This will be the third time I’ve seen Rage Against the Machine in 2007. I’m making up for the times they put on a show but I was too young to attend. Daft Punk’s last performance in America!! That’s monumental, and I’m glad I will be a part of it. I’ve never seen them live, and I barely got into their music earlier this year. I also want to see Mastodon, Ghostface, and Pharoahe Monch. There’s a lot of bands on the bill that I haven’t seen live, or even listened to before. Hopefully they’re worth the money. I’d like to get friday off so I can get to Vegas sometime in the afternoon and hit the strip for a bit. Fuck gambling, I haven’t been to an arcade in ages. I’m down with some old school Top Skater. Remember that shit?
Yo, do you guys like hard records? I’ve been going through my playlist all day, and I discovered that a lot of hard ass records are from Jadakiss, or have Jadakiss on them. “Time’s Up” with Nate Dogg is one of the hardest jams I’ve ever heard in my life, and that was a fucking radio single! I wish rappers still released shit like this. Sad shit, that track is only from three years ago. The hook is probably the grimiest shit I’ve ever heard anyone sing:
The time to talk is up, so bring the heat, play time is over.
While you’re running your mouth, I’m creeping up over your shoulder
A gun, a knife, a bat, a brick, anything I can get my hands on
Call my bluff, start acting up, and I’ll leave you..underground.
Amazing. Shouts to the piano man on the beat.
Lately I’ve been listening to a lot of dancey, House, R&B, and Electrofunk type of shit. Armand van Helden, Daft Punk, Chromeo, KANO, Planet Patrol, Kavinsky, T-Pain, Timberlake, Timbaland..shit. My shit right now is Keri Hilson’s track with Timbaland and the dude with the lisp:
That beat, along with that broad, is perfect. I can relate to Timbaland & Co. to an extent. I do have a car, but it’s a piece of shit. My credit card is from 1st Financial Bank, and it’s gold, not red. The color has nothing to do with status. It’s just a bland ass gold color. I don’t have a ‘huge ol HOUTH,’ I have an apartment. No motorboat either, but I can most definitely work my fingers. Where are the broads who don’t give a fuck about all those material possessions? Keri Hilson needs to come to my place, seriously. We’d knock boots for hours, and afterwards, sit around wearing sweat pants and eating ice cream out of the carton. We’d be cute together.
So I went on my one hour lunch break at 1:00pm, and I came back at 2:33pm. I could have been on time, but I chose to circle the block a few times while listening to De La Soul because I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to buy an energy drink at the liquor store or not. I wish I could afford paying 80 dollars a month for a parking pass. Oh, I didn’t buy that energy drink. Instead, I came back to the office, lied down on the couch for 20 minutes, and shouted some ideas to Fernando (my co-worker) about this Land Rover campaign. After I got no where with that, I took a stroll to the bathroom, and went to the lounge on the first floor to buy an Arizona Iced Tea. SportCenter was on the tv, so I watched that for about 15 minutes. On the walk back to the office, I received a call from my good friend D Comma Big. We’re hanging out tonight (tee hee). I also made a call to my hot shot lawyer cousin. I haven’t seen him in a year, I wanna kick it with him cause it’s always good times with that fool. I think he might be gay. hahaha. So now I’m here, whoring myself out to Land Rover and Youtube. I’m not really too happy with this job. I applied to Warner two days ago. I hope they call me back soon. I’d love to be back in the music industry, especially at a label. I’m willing to risk job security just so I can rub elbows with Killa Cam (no homo). It’s not like I’m not already risking my job here anyway..hahaha. I hardly work. Fuck them. These motherfuckers just asked me if I could come into work tomorrow. Assholes. I told them yes because I like money, and money will bring me closer to a new pair of shoes. I can’t believe I made rent this month! My irresponsible roommate better pay that shit on time. We’ve had three eviction notices in a row because she forgets to pay. Silly goose!
So, there’s this girl. I dig her. Like, for real. I don’t know her that well though. I’m gonna try to give as little detail as possible just in case she stumbles upon this, and tells me to fuck off. I met her over the Spring/Summer. I’d come into her work not paying too much attention to her, but we just started to notice each other since I always came through. So we exchanged names, numbers, and shit. Hung out a few times, gone to lunch, and I even met some of her friends. Good times. So I don’t show up to her work too much now, but when I do, it’s only to see her. I feel bad when I drag my friends along. haha. This is my type of gal, for real! Notice how I haven’t called her a bird, breezy, broad, or meat yet? We have some key things in common, I make her laugh. She makes me laugh. Word. Brace yourselves. This is the kind of girl that I’d make love to, and then cuddle afterwards with. Mad homo, right? Yeah, she’s fly. I don’t know what my deal is. I’d like to take things a little bit further, but I feel we don’t know each other that well, so I might come off as a creepy, ugly dude just looking to score..haha. Maybe I’m just afraid of rejection! That’s probably it. See, I had this anxiety issue for a long time. Being outside was death. Talking to girls was death by drowning in diarrhea. It took some time, and some good friends to help me out, and I’ve mostly overcome that little problem. I can be outside now, and talking to women is no problem at all. Hell, I live with two girls who get naked on the internet. They actually converse with me, no bullshit. I’ve got zero game when it comes to women, though. None at all. Maybe I don’t need any of that ‘game’ bullshit. Maybe I can win without being super sleek and all that unnecessary shit. So, I’m a chump, and I would like to get more intimate with her, but I’m cock blocking myself. This is something I refuse to go through half-assedly. I’m gonna try, and probably fail. Key word is ‘try.’ I’ll feel better if I fail while doing my best, but I’ll still feel shitty if I fail. Why the fuck did the end of this paragraph sound like I was talking about a math quiz? Faggot asian kid got me heated. (Read my very first entry)
