8.31.2009

Just thinkin' out loud...

Why is it considered crazy to talk to yourself? I don't think its very nice to for you to ignore you. Hell, I talk to myself all the time and we're perfectly fine. You probably do too and don't realize it. Hear me out, I'll explain...

Sometimes I congratulate myself on some stupid little trick I just did like successfully flip objects from hand to hand, or behind my back, or shooting an item into the trash from a long distance, you know...all that random fun shit. Sometimes I'll cuss myself out or call me a name after doin something dumb..."AJ, how the fuck did you lose it and you just had it!" or "Of course you left your *whatever* at home like a asshole" or "How bout you don't drop your phone again, dick?"...don't act like you haven't done it.

I've asked myself "Where the fuck is this train..." many times (as if I could answer the question), I've asked myself "What the fuck is wrong with *whoever*" and yeah I've asked me "What am I gonna eat for dinner?"...you know you've said those things out loud too...who did you think you were talking to when you did? Oh, thats what i thought. My point is, its fine to talk to yourself all you want...as long as other people in your head don't start joining the conversation...ain't that right, AJ?

7 basic facts

I feel there's certain basic shit you should know about folk before you claim to know them or even pretend to call them a friend/associate...the list that follows ain't the complete sum of who somebody is, but it kinda gives me a general picture of them...

7 things I must know about a person:
Name (obvious reasons...that includes the last one too, you know how many ppl there are with that name?)

Relative age (again, obvious...I just wanna know whether you 20 or 40 or 13, shit...)

Birthday (not that I'm gonna remember it because my memory span is almost as bad as my attention sp...ooh, look a distraction...)

Favorite drink (if any...course, I said before and still believe you don't know folk until you sit back and have a drink with em...)

Religion (again, if any...it ain't mandatory, I just want to know which kind of jokes I really can't make around you...I'm not tryna get shot, folk get mad about that kind of thing...)

Smoker status (smoking or nonsmoking? Cigs? Blacks? Ganja? Meth? Crack? Actually, scratch the last 2...we can't be cool if you on that shit, cuz if I catch you stealin my items to buy rocks, you might as well Twitter yourself a suicide note...)

Favorite football team (if any...tho I can't for the life of me determine why anybody wouldn't like football lol)

That's pretty much enough info for me to know about most ppl, everything else can be on a need-to-know basis...hell, I'm not writin nobody memoirs or nothin... I just feel like if I don't know at least those things about you, you're a complete stranger to me...

Random Thoughts 7- Coinci-dance

I firmly believe that if you near a person of the opposite sex and y'all headphones is playin the same song at the same time and either of you notice, y'all owe each other a dance. Not knowin the person is no excuse...what are the chance that's gon ever happen again? I explained that to a chick on the train (who was only wearin one earphone, but it was the loudest earphone in Philly) this morning and she gave me a quick shimmy and a smile. Good enough for me...you try it...

8.30.2009

Ignorance is Bliss (until 7:00)

So I was all hyped up to watch the 49ers-Cowboys game last night...I couldn't watch it at home cuz it wasn't the local game (the gods of NFL broadcasting decided Atlanta and San Diego was a better local game...fuck y'all) so I decided to go out to the sports bar to try to catch it...hell, they show all the games, right? Right?

Sike. I went all the way there, got there about half a hour early, sat down, got a couple beers (because who watches football sober?) and settled in...just for them to tell me their direcTV full coverage football package ain't kick in yet (ain't that some janky shit? Who only has full coverage half the year? Is that really full?) and that they couldn't show the game if they wanted to. And believe me they wanted to...I was raisin all varieties of hell trying to get that game on tv...I think they woulda did it just to shut me up. Shit, the bartender felt so bad for me she gave me a free beer and her phone number...I only planned to use one of those 2 tho. (Hint: it was the one with the better head...)

After I left, partially drunk and thoroughly dejected, I almost accepted my Cowboy-less fate...I would be reduced to watching 1.5 minutes of highlights on SportsCenter instead of my deserved 3 hours of football vacation. That's when a beacon of bright hope hit me...I found out they would replay the game on a channel I had at home at 4pm the next day (today). Football at 4 on a Sunday...that just sounds right...and with enough self-deception and avoidance of all sports media until then (its way harder than it sounds...that's the news, espn, the internet...not to mention random shit-talkin folk) I could just wake up tomorrow and pretend the game did not actually happen until then...what was the difference right? My mantra became "avoid the score".

But of course that's when everybody wants to give it to you. If I wanted to find the fuckin score, I bet like shit I would have to seek it out...but hell, let me NOT want the score, and all of a sudden, everybody wanna talk Cowboys. On the way home, a dude spotted my attire (of course, it bein gameday, I was wearin more blue, silver, and stars than the law allow) and immediately started in with "Yo, I'm a Boys fan too, that's what's up...did you see that..." I cut him off at the knees like Anakin Skywalker in episode III. "Na, na, na fam...no offense, but I got the game recorded and I don't wanna hear about it..." He smiled knowingly and was like "Oh aight...good luck with that..." We discussed some non-current Cowboy events for a little bit and parted ways.

"That was a close one..." I thought to myself. I had walked no farther than 2 blocks before some chick with a blue-star logo hat spied me, and walked over with a big smile, assumedly prepared to discuss the game. She asked whether there was anywhere she could watch it, and I said I woulda asked her the same fuckin question. She laughed and said it was no problem, she could look up the score...and before I could react, she whipped out her blackberry and sifted through the internet, presumably to find out and tell me the score. I almost ripped it from her hands and skipped it like a stone into a sewer grate...but settled on politely informing her of the sitch the same way.

I asked myself just how hard this shit was gonna be as I walked into the corner store to get chips, dip and beer for my home tailgate tomorrow (Sunday, today) afternoon. I got my sixer and snacks, and went to the counter to pay. The asian cashier looked me up and down and said "Hey, Cowboy!" in a friendly tone. His english wasn't very good, but he recognized the star...hell, those mighta been the only 2 words he knew, but I smiled and acknowledged him anyway. Without me asking, he pointed to the news on the store's tv...where they were about to show highlights of the mafuckin game! "No!" I shouted as I recoiled in horror, my night and next day seconds from being spoiled. I just threw 10 dollars on the counter and fled the store with my goods.

I finally got home and thought I could survive the night by just callin/textin folk and watchin iCarly. (Yeah...I watch nickelodeon...ill still beat your ass lol) I guess that why they don't pay me to think...during a convo with my frienemy Ci that apparently wasn't goin her way, she threatened to reveal the score to me over the phone (how rude). It took everything in me not to throw my phone like a live grenade...so I simply banged on her instead...and turned my phone off. (If you know me at all, you know how big a step that is...my phone hasn't been off since I first put the battery in, I'm addicted.) Even that wasn't enough tho...my pop's idea of a joke was to turn my TV to NFL Network while I was sleep (yeah, he's gonna end up in a home...) and I just know some dickface is gonna text me with the score before 7, when the game ends.

The point is, this whole situation taught me a lil something about life (besides that being a sports fan sometimes strains one's life)...it's hard work stayin ignorant. You have to consciously avoid information to prevent knowin it...even tho it seems a lot easier for some ppl. I haven't made it yet, but I'm close enough where I feel comfortable postin about it (plus if I don't do SOMETHING with my life I'm gonna hit the suicide swan dive out my 2nd story window). Wish me luck...oh, and if you decide to be the smartass to tell me the score, you will suffer dire consequences. :) (go Cowboys!)

8.29.2009

Indecisive Females: An Interview

There was such a response to the last interview with Shane that umf requested he return. This time we will discuss girls who can't make up they minds...enjoy.

umf: What's good with you, bruh? Good to see you again... *reaches hand out for dap*

Shane: *withholds dap* hohohohohollupholluphollup...before we start a damn thing, what's good with you callin me by my
gov't all crazy? Nigga my name Blaze. Blaze Lyonhart. Get that shit straight...only my momma and my bitch call me Shane.

umf: Aight cuz, fall back, I don't want no trouble, you got it...you're gonna chillaxify yourself in this mafucka tho...I call you Shane, Blaze, Suzie, whateva the fuck you want...you just gon have to watch ya tone.

S...uh...B: You right...I just ain't smoke yet today, my fault for spazzin, its all love *renders withheld dap*...now what's this you wanted to talk about?

umf: Girls who can't make up they minds...any stories you wanna share? Personal experience?

B: Ohhhhhh shit...I'm so glad you asked...hell yeah I got a story.

umf: Well what you here for? Get to narratin, nigra...

B: Pssh...you funny, AJ. Aight, so I was at this party at college--

umf: When the fuck you go to school?!

B: Nigga shut the fuck up *laughs* I wasn't goin to college, I had just crashed a college party. Any more questions, with ya ole interviewin Diane Sawyer ass? You want me to tell this story or not?

umf: *smirks* You lucky I like you, dude...go head tho...

B: Aight, so like I was sayin before I was so rudely interrupted, I was at this college party and we was all drinkin and shit, smokin...you know, chillin...havin a good time.

umf: Right, right...

B: I'm just groovin or whateva, then I see this BAD [fittedwearer's note: Sh...Blaze popped his 'B' in 'bad' so hard right here, he came close to watering a nigga...which woulda def earned him a asswhuppin] jawn across the room...she had a ass and a half on her, and titties I wanted to suck out her shirt...and her face was pretty than a mafucka, even in the dark I could see that sexy honey complexion...shit, you know me, I was on that...I went and cracked on her. Said her name was Alicia. Asked her what was good with her and if she was havin a good time...you know, all that meaningless shit dudes ask to get bitches to keep talkin.

umf: *laughs* I know exactly what you tom'bout...continue.

B: I know you do, nigga...anyway, so after I talked to her for a lil bit, I asked whether she had a ride home and shit...she said na...then I asked if she wanted to go to my crib for a little...she paused for a second...I guess she ain't wanna look like a ho... but shit, if a nigga ask you if your drunk ass wanna go home with him, you know what its good for, right?

umf: Um...niggas don't ask me if I wanna go home with them too much...maybe that's your twist...

B: Mafucka don't play with me like that, you know zactly what I mean...

umf: Yeah, course I do...anyway...

B: Yeah, so we parlay at the party for a lil bit more then we bounce...we drive back to my crib or whateva and we do what we came to do...she take off my shirt and shit, I take off her bra...we all grown folk, we know what was goin down, I ain't gotta go into too much detail and shit...tho she did have some pretty ass nipples...shit I took a pic, wanna see?

umf: Yeah you right...specially since I'm in a lil drought at the moment...I don't need to hear all that...

B: Nigga what's new, you don't get no bitches... *laughs*

umf: Yeah aight...continue with ya lil funky ass story...I will need to see that pic later tho...

B: I was gon show you whether you wanted to or not... Anyway, she all kissin on my neck and shit...makin sure to rub them titties all on me and shit...then she start movin down...collarbone, chest, stomach...

umf: Aww shit...damn, sound like you bout to get what you want...what this got to do with females not makin up they minds?

B: Hell yeah...that's what I said! But wait tho! She gets to my belt and start to unbuckle it...then the bitch just stop...

umf: Stop?!

B: Yeah she stop. Then she look off like she thinkin or some shit for a little bit then she start in with all this bullshit about how she couldn't fuck me cuz she ain't know me and she ain't feel comfortable and she thought she should leave before she did something she regret and all that gay shit...I ain't really hear nothin after 'We cant'...

umf: Daaaaaaamn!

B: Na, na...you know I ain't take that on the chin...

umf: Aww hell no...Blaze, you ain't...take it...did you?

B: Man, fuck na! I ain't do that shit, its illegal and rude. Plus its other bitches, I can find another one. Check this out tho...I let her get dressed and get redressed myself...all the while I'm thinkin 'Oh, I got something for her mark ass...'

umf: *laughs* I can't wait to hear this shit...

B: I takes her outside to my car or whateva, let her get in without sayin a word, and drive her about 6 blocks toward the direction she had to go...then I pulled over and said 'Aight, good night!' She was like 'But this is only halfway down!' I was like 'Damn scraight...how's it feel bitch? Bounce.'

umf: Cooooold blooooded *cracks up* What she do?

B: Nigga what could she do? She looked at me like I was crazy for a little bit then she got the fuck out my wheel...walked away all sad and shit...I just popped a U-turn and went on with my night. Ended up gettin another bitch too...

umf: *laughs* My man.

B: Yeah dawg, you know I'm too gangsta to sweat this bitch or that one...point is, if she can't make up her mind...fuck it, on to the next.

umf: Can't argue with results...

B: Fuckin real, you can't...she be aight, and I know I will...everybody wins.

umf: There it is, then. Well we're just about out of type for today, any final thoughts?

B: Fuck you, Alicia!

umf: That's the spirit. Well, good shit once again, fam...thx for blessing the blog once again...

B: Oh, anytime cuz...anytime. *daps*

* We at umf don't believe you should call bitches hoes...that's just not right. Oh, and the words, experiences and methods detailed on this site are solely those of the people who spoke, had and used them...so miss me with that bullshit.

Random Thoughts 6- More flags, more...uh...

I decided I hate those six flags commercials...who THEE fuck decided that a creepy ass dancin rubberface boy-lover lookin mafucka was a good mascot for a amusement park!? Seriously, its like "Oh, a jiggin old pervert wants to take all our kids away? That's so nice of him, now he doesn't have to snatch them, at least we know who has em... Sure yeah, let's just load all the lil monkeys into a bus with this old crip-walkin weirdo and let him cross state lines with em...' On some real shit, would you let your kids hop in the car with dude if he pulled up and started doin the hustle in the middle of the street, throwin out lollipops and shit to attract the younglings? Ain't think so....

8.28.2009

Ebonics: Please Use Responsibly

PSA: just because I'm black, you don't HAVE to come talkin that jive talk to me, nonblacks...I do understand regular english, you know. I mean...I don't need a fuckin translator or anything. Especially at work...don't say 'hello' to everybody else and say 'what's poppin, homie!' to me...miss me with that shit. What, you think 'good morning' is too classy for me? You know good and gahdamn well you don't talk like that (you can tell who really does and who don't...the fake ones still put 'er' on everything and say outdated shit like 'phat' and 'da bomb') ...you're not down, guy...and no amount of Fiddy Cent mp3s on your iPod will change that...

Don't you know that whenever you do that, you sound like you never actually had to deal with black folk before and spent all day on urbandictionary.com (whose headline should be 'now you can sound black too!') or got black people training from BET to prepare to interact with real african-americans in they natural habitat. Cut that out, sport...I mean yeah, I do talk like that to my friends and ppls but...you're neither...its really not necessary to try give me a pound every time you see me. You don't have to call me 'brotha', 'homeboy', 'dawg', or any other clearly ethnic-specific bullshit at the end of every sentence either. Chill out...not even we do that...do me a favor and never watch 'Malibu's Most Wanted' again. How would you like if every time I walked up to you I went "How's it hangin, cracker?" or "Put'er there, honky!" I'm sure it would get old fast. I'm just waitin for some clueless caucasian coworker of mine to go "Hey, what's good my nigg-ah?" so I can kick him in the back of his face...

Where the fuck my chips at?!

Aight, my soul is fat as shit, so baby back rib flavored chips sounded good, I can't lie. So I plunked down a yank just to see how it was...fuck it, I couldn't resist. It was all good until I opened the bag...

What the fuck man?! Why its only like 7 chips in this mafucka? The chips look hella far down...because they are. You can't fool me, this is a 25 cent bag of chips in a big ass bag...and don't you dare try to give me that 'chips settle during shipping' bullshit, neitha...you look me in the eye and tell me you really believe that those 4 chips actually filled up that huge bag at any point in time, and I'll tell you I got a bell I can sell you...It's cracked, but it has a lot of historical value...$50 or best offer. You mean you wanna charge me a dollar for this? That's how you feel? Fuck you Herr's...fuck you.

Minor Life Failures 1- the inapplicable "You too"

This is a pretty common one that occurs whenever one did not quite hear what a person said and just wants to be nice...it stems from you not listenin to a person's sentence and assuming they said 'Have a nice day" or some shit...

Example:

McDonalds worker:"Your total is 13.42, pull through to window 2..."
Customer: *pulls around, hands money to cashier*
MW: "All right, enjoy your meal"
C: "You too..."

See, the worker doesn't have a meal...he can't enjoy his meal too. It makes no sense, and we all do it. I avoid it by just sayin 'aight' whenever I didn't hear you...

Camera Phone Ninja vol. 15: A hairline between love and hate...

What legitimate barber did this? Did he sit down in the chair and ask for it ('Ay dawg, lemme get that St. Louis...) or was the barber cuttin his hair with safety scissors and a protractor? Nobody knows...either way, somebody need they ass kicked for lettin dude appear outside without a hat...

8.27.2009

Random Thoughts 5- Eternal Peepshow

I was on MySpace the other day and lookin at all the nudie pics females post (hey, they put em up for a reason...its disrespectful not to look, they put a lot of effort into bein digital whores, you should respect that...) and I thought about the fact that nothin you post on the internet ever gets deleted...ever. So ladies, that means your extreme close-up of your tramp stamp with a bit of buttcrack and the pic of you with one titty out of your shirt in the bathroom mirror to show your new nipple peircing are gonna still be online when your 80...sexy, right? Sure gonna be fun to explain to your grandkids why grandma has her boobies in her hands on her page they found... Hey...its cool, least I appreciate you lol...keep on doin what you do...

Hate, Hate, Hate!

The word 'hater' is one of the most misused words in casual american vernacular, and besides that I'm just plain sick of hearin it. It was originally intended to mean a person who makes groundless criticisms of a person, place or thing purely based on they personal feelings and with no root in the actual merits of the thing in question. It seems to have expanded to cover even legitimate points, as long as they're negative and directed at something. Now you can't make an observation on anything without bein called a fuckin hater. If I say Weezy's new work can't touch his old shit (even tho it don't...all you gotta do is listen...) I'm a hater. If I say skinny jeans look gay on men, oh, I'm a hater. If I go to a restaurant 2 straight days and think the food is better the 1st day, they'll prolly call me a fuckin hater the next...what? Seriously?

Ill tell you what that shit has become...a crutch. Its a response 4 those who don't have responses. If you don't got an actual rebuttal...fuck it, call em a hater...that'll show em! On some real shit, that's only a small step above 'Oh, yeah?!' as a comeback. If you ask me what I think about that 'jerk' song, and I say its one of the stupidest things I've ever heard actual functioning human beings attempt to call music, I'm not hatin...you asked my opinion, I gave it. Sucka. Oh, and 'hater' is not valid in political discussions. I was in a discussion about healthcare and I said Barry O was wrong for backin off his initial plan just because some folk didn't like it...I mean, I thought it was a good plan. The person I was talkin to had the nerve to say I was just hatin on Obama. Word, dickhead? Needless to say, that was the end of that convo. Let's not even get into the fact that everybody and they fuckin parole officer think they got 'haters'...what do you even do special to hate on? Is there some kind of hater assignment bureau where folk go to get haters? Who's even thinkin about you, honestly?

Do you understand that by your defintion, everybody that don't like something or doesn't think its as good as other folk do is hatin? Does that mean the whole country just spent 8 years 'hatin' on George Bush? It def means that means vegetarians be hatin on meat, celibate folk are hatin on sex, if I think sumbody breath stink, I'm hatin on they hygiene and anybody that has food allergies...man, there ain't nothin wrong with them...that's just a hater reaction! Get that hate out your heart for that food and you'll stop gettin hives, right? Get that shit outta here...legitimate, actual criticism is NOT hate...its just that person's opinon (or hell...maybe a fact). Cut that shit out right now...I demand 'hater' be clearly defined for all and used the right way. Hate on that, mafucka.

8.26.2009

One ring to rule them all...

One pretty basic fact about me (that everybody who has talked to me for more than 10 straight minutes knows) is I'm a pretty big fan of the Dallas Cowboys. Have been since...ever. Last year for my birthday, I got this ring from my momma, immediately put it on, and never took it off except to sleep. Its kinda heavy so its uncomfortable then, so every night I put it on the hand of the little Cowboy figure/statue/toy on top of my tv (you know, the McFarlane jawns...its Tony Romo if you care). As you can imagine, I love this fuckin ring. Love it. It has a lot of fan-timental value to me. That's why it was so devastating when...

After a night of drinkin practice with my boy D (standart shout-out practice applies here...what up bruh!) I woke up in a hungover fog...now that's no problem for me, hell I got the remedy (and posted it...'Hangover Magic', if you ever need it...) so that was gonna be a nonfactor in a hour...the real issue came up when I stumbled out of bed, looked up at the #9 figure on my tv...only to NOT see my ring. I instantly felt the way a mom must feel when she look by her side in a airport/supermarket and don't see her small child. Unfortunately, I only had about 20 minutes before I had to leave...and I had to shower, dress, all that good shit. I decided that a shower might help me think more clearly, then I could come back and figure out where THEE fuck my ring was.

I ran back upstairs afterwards, ready to turn my room upsidefuckindown in my last 15 minutes before I had to roll. (Of course I had already harrassed my mom about it, askin if she had seen it...not at all...) The bedside table? No. Did it fall near my tv? Nope. Under the bed, under the dresser, under the couch? Na. (thx anyway g1 flashlight app.) Fuck! Panic mode...7 minutes left. Did I leave it at D's crib? I shot him a text to find out, even tho it was 7:30 in the morning and he was prolly sleep...fuck it tho, I wanted my ring, and I wanted it 20 minutes ago. (Sry cuz lol) Anyway, I continued to toss my room like I was servin a search warrant until 10 minutes after I had to leave... (yes, the ring was more important than bein on time for work) at that point, I said fuck it, put on my backup (Green Lantern ring...I like that one too, but I love my 'Boys ring...) and reluctantly left for work, pissed the fuck off and convinced Iraqi insurgents stole my ring or some shit.

All day my ring was on my mind, tho I knew it wasn't there and knew I wasn't gonna have it until after work...so I just tried to put it out of mind. What made it hard is every time I looked at my hand, it was a reminder of how neglectful I had been to my treasured item and how I had failed myself as a Cowboys fan by losin my ring. Yes, it's that serious. Around lunchtime, I got a response from D...no dice. It was a long day...when it was over, I ran all the way home from Center City. (Aight I took the train...but I woulda...) I got back to my house and immediately got to searchin my room again. After searching the same places again (ever notice you do that after you lose something? You know you looked there, but maybe if you look again, by some miracle it will appear there the second time?) Havin retraced every step from last night, I stood in the middle of my ransacked room, thinkin about what I would do without my ring, how much another one would cost, how long I was gonna be without it...that's when I happened to glance at my bed and saw...

My ring. My fucking ring was on the windowsill behind my bed. (Its always in the stupidest, most obvious place, ain't it?) In the first halfmoment I saw it, a quick wave of euphoria washed over me like I had just took a E pill. It felt just like the day I got it...almost like a 7-second sample of a whole nother birthday. Then, I remembered the last thing I did last night in my drunken stupor was take off my ring and place it on the nearest safe surface...my windowsill. Course, that's a fact that conveniently escaped me all day... I considered killin myself slowly for my utter stupidity, but then remembered if I was dead I couldn't watch football this season and decided against it. Still, to find it in such a under-ya-nose type place did make me feel like I should be ridin the short bus to work. In the end tho, the way I felt after I found it was damn near worth losin it in the 1st place...and in a way it was kinda like life in general...sometimes the stupidest, most why-and-how-the-fuck-is-this-shit-happeningish things are worth it to go through...just for the end result. That's good enough for me. I drank to that and went on with my day.

Camera Phone Ninja 14- Damn you, Cam'Ron...

Muslim garb? Sundress? Toga? Whatever it is, there's a lot of it, and it's pink. Now, far be it from my technicolor dreamcoat wearing ass to tell folk what colors are cool or whatever...but a pink evening gown ain't very gangsta...even with a Polo tee lol...

8.25.2009

Shit I don't know how folk lived without: Caller ID

On some real shit, how the hell did people do it? I mean really? Havin to actually pick up the phone to know who's callin? What kind of caveman shit is that?! You have no idea whether its your girl, your best friend, your boss, a stalker/pervert hybrid, the cops or a bill collector...that's a serious handicap. It almost sounds like a game show or some shit... Answerin the phone without knowin who's on the other end is kind of like a 5-minute blind date...you never know what the fuck you finna get. Only after the advent of caller ID could you look at your phone, say 'I don't want to talk to that mafucka' and move on with your day. That's underrated as hell...and so I salute the wonderful person who brought this technology to mankind.

At least you'll have some warning...

Here's a question...you know how they got all types of prenatal tests and shit to see how your baby is gonna turn out...I was thinking...what if there was one to see if your baby was gonna end up gay? Would you take it? Would you even wanna know? That's a hell of a revelation before your baby is even born...but at least you would know what colors to paint the baby's room (all of em, of course). Anyway, I would...so some marbles can accidentally get left at the top of a flight of steps at my pregnant baby mom crib at 3 in the mornin...oops...bwahaha...heh, just kiddin ppl (prolly)...but seriously, would you?

Random Thoughts 5- Assuming they still have jinxes in the future...

I wonder if far in the future they won't be able to say 'knock on wood' anymore? Hell...everything is chrome in the future, right? So where's the wood to knock on? If you on some space station somewhere floatin around, there's not many trees, wood furniture, or any of that shit... And no, you can't just say it...it don't work that way, its invalid if you don't actually do it...so superstitious folk like me might be fucked lol

8.24.2009

Skinny Minded

Yo, we gotta have a talk about these skinny jeans, gentlemen. This is gettin way outta hand. Not only do you look both uncomfortable and homosexual...its also unhealthy...shit...there's no way havin your balls in the cobra clutch all day can be good for your reproductive health. Cutting off the circulation to that area is never ever good. (Not to mention if you happen to get stimulated in jeans with no room to grow, you could end up with a boomerang...) Hell, you could get a yeast infection...is that what you want? Try explaining to your pop how you got a urinary tract infection and see if he isn't ashamed of you.

I understand its the new thing in the streets and all the kiddies love it...but that don't make it right. Remember the hightop fade? Hammer pants? Velour suits? How about those ice dancing outfits folk used to wear in the 80s? Those things were all hot in the streets at one point or another, and now we look at pics of people in that shit and ridicule them. Just save yourself the trouble and peel those things off right now before you look at you in 5 years and end up slapping the shit outta yourself.

Maybe its just me cuz I'm kind of a big guy and never would think about putting some on (Frankenstein is the image that comes to mind...) but I can't even fathom how you can bend your knees in them sunsabitches. I've actually seen peoplw hustle in skinnys. How do you run from cops or anyfuckinbody else with your legs perfectly straight? The hilarious mental image of somebody tellin me they got that [insert item here] out and then stiffleggedly walking over to me like a desperado at high noon aside, how the fuck can you sell anything if you can't even get in the pockets of your denim stockings to make change?

All I'm sayin is that your girl shouldn't be staring at you tryna figure how you got in them jeans. That's just all gender-confused. That's not to say your jeans should be 5 sizes bigger than you need either. Walking around lookin like your clothes are melting is not the right move, and havin your whole outfit just flap in the breeze like a cape ain't a poppin' look. There's such a thing as shit that fits...(imagine that!)...my whole point is if I can read the number on the credit card in your pocket through your jeans, not only are you at risk for identity theft, but your shit is way too snug. It just seems like way more trouble than its worth...let's leave the tight pants to the ladies, guys...

Random Thoughts 4- When you assume...

The Oreo commercials love to mention that it's 'milk's favorite cookie'. Now, I gotta ask...has anybody ever asked milk what its favorite cookie is? Maybe it prefer chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin...you cant just assume that shit and advertise it...that's false advertisement. I move that those commercials be discontinued until a unbiased source uncovers the truth.

8.23.2009

Camera Phone Ninja Vol. 12- Really tho?

Yeah, this clearly isn't targeted towards any particular group...number 1, its fo' (yeah it says 'four' but...let's be real) 0 malt liquor...so there you go right there. Next, we got the graffiti style wordmark, urban skyline, and scribbled brick wall backround...because urban decay is gangster! Stereotypes are a mafucka...oh, and I'm not sure you can see it in the pic, but marked on the can is 'street legal'. I guess all those illegal beers folk drink in the streets got the game fucked up...I'm surprised it doesn't say 'strictly for my niggas'.

If you weren't offended enough by the cultural misappropriaton and socioeconomically biased marketing scheme, it also taste like sweetened piss-flavored liquid bread (although it is 10% abv...for comparison, Steel Reserve is only 8, your average beer is 5) and is made by a company in the mean streets of...Wisconsin. I can honestly say that is the first and last 2.50 this brotha will ever give to that particular company...hell the only reason I bought it is to take the pic (it was in one of those 'hurry up and buy' stores...you know they wasn't lettin me get no free pic...) and the only reason I'm drinking it as I type is...its just not right to waste alcohol under any circumstances. That's against my religion.

Anyway, I seriously doubt you'll find any subpar, pandering bullshit like this outside the hood (that, check cashing places and laundromats...but we'll get to that later...) and its a damn good thing. News flash, Copper Mountain Brewing Company...you're not down, and I'm not amused. Oh yeah, and your beer sucks too...

I dont have a problem...

I never understood why drinkin by yaself is looked down on...hell, you're your only guaranteed drinkin buddy, you should know that! What, you don't think you're good enough to party with you? That's sad. Nobody's tellin you to sit home every night of your life drinkin vodka/bum wine/listerine on your lonely until you pass out...at that point, you might need to attend some meetings (even tho AA is for quitters)...I'm just sayin you should be able to chill with your number one fan every so often.

Despite all that, you might still ask: why? What's the point of drinkin by one's self? Well, I'll tell you. First, if you never drink by yourself, how you supposed to get your tolerance up so you ain't that dude who gets pissy drunkdialin stumblefall drunk in public off one smirnoff ice? Nobody wants to be/likes/wants to hang with that douche. Besides, I'm a firm believer that you don't really know somebody until you had a few drinks with em...shit, that's when the real you comes out...so why not get to know yourself? Hey...henny is cheaper than therapy...

I mean hell...I enjoy drinkin with me. Its not necessarily a sad thing... I don't have to share my liq (cept with my alternate personality...he's a drunk...), my drinks come out exactly how I want (cuz I made em...duh...), I don't have to worry about a designated driver (you're at home I assume...if you wander around random places to get fucked up, again, you may need some help), there's virtually no way you'll get arrested for public drunkenness (see last side note) and I don't have to worry about somebody gettin me drunk and takin advantage of me (unless...y'know...lefty gets a mind of her own *rimshot*).

Shit...sometimes (like today) you got nothin in your day but time and a bottle...you mean to tell me if I just kill time, that's cool...but if I kill both I'm an alcoholic? Just cuz I got a little Captain in me? (unavoidable joke: can't say that if you're a dude at sea...yikes lol) Whatever you say dude...fuck you and your rules. I'm gonna have fun no matter who's around...and sometimes that's just me...

8.22.2009

idk my bff jill

I wonder what percentage of ppl actually laugh out loud when they type 'lol'... I'd bet my next paycheck its under 20. Mostly I use it (way too much) to soften up some fucked up thing I just typed to somebody so it qualifies as a joke... Seriously, you can put lol at the end of damn near anything and get away with it (and I take full advantage of that shit...) Its almost as good as jk...you can threaten somebody's life and then type jk and its all good...try it out one day. While we on the subject, how does one actually laugh they ass off? Maybe it can happen...and in that case I know some chicks who need to quit laughin so much. Oh, and has there ever been a documented case of somebody literally rolling on the floor laughin and not endin up in a padded room? I'm gonna completely ignore the offbrand variants like lls and gnr and nhl or whatever the silly youngins wanna come up with just to try and be 'original'...anybody who does that shit needs their phone/computer thoroughly washed with a garden hose...some things are fine the way they is...

KGB: Cuz theres a sucka born every minute...

Aight, by now y'all all prolly seen those "kgb" commercials...you know, the ones that say you can text them any question and they answer it...for a dollar. Now number a, what type of shit is that? We charge for info now? If I ask a nigga what time it is on the street and he has the audacity to attempt to charge me a yank, ima roof that mafucka...that's just disrespectful. 2nd, aint that what...y'know...that whole internet thing is for? Like...a FREE google search? Just sayin...oh, and 3...if you gotta send a dollar text (who the fuck still pays per text message? What, you got a 2 way pager or some shit?) to folk you dont know every time you have some random minor question, you prolly dont have friends or anybody that cares about you and should strongly consider ending yaself. There, that advice was free...

Because only certain folk can pull off the crotch chop...

Need a way to make an exit from a mafucka you don't wanna talk to no more or just a quick symbol for everything you wanna say to somebody, all in a easily made obscene gesture? Try the fupo sign (fuck u, peace out...). Just throw both fingers up (make sure to get maximum extension on both birds for full effect), cross em in front of you at the bases of both fingers about chest high so they form a peace sign, and say the magic words...'fuck u, peace out.' It's more original than the standard finger, more expressive than a chin flick and more contemporary than bitin your thumb at somebody (cuz for real...who does that...) As a bonus, it both terminates the conversation and lets em know without a essence of a doubt exactly how you feel...hell, it works for me, and thus I pass it to you...

8.21.2009

Petty Thieves Code: An Interview

Here at umf, we're not all mean-spirited commentary and intoxicated ramblings (mostly though). We also try to understand why folk do the things they do...it is with that in mind we present our first interview with Shane (aka Blaze), who describes himself as a 'self-discounter' . Here, we take a look at his trade.

umf: Yo Blaze what's up with you? *shakes hand*

S: Yeah yeah what's poppin my dude? I'm good, I'm chillin...you want some of this gum I just discounted?

umf: I'm good man...but that does bring us to our 1st question: what exactly is a 'self-discounter'?

S: Well, what I do is real simple. When I go in stores or places to shop, I like to get a little something extra at a discount...they don't have to know.

umf: Isn't that called 'stealing'?

S: *sucks teeth* Na, na...see, you got the game fucked up. Check this out...stealing is from people. You take somebody's ipod, that's stealing. You rob somebody with a gun, that's stealing. You take money from a person, that's stealing. What I do is different. See, I buy shit from stores, but I just feel like ppl shouldn't have to pay for everyfuckinthing. I spend money, I just don't pay full retail and shit...that's for suckas.

umf: Word? Elaborate...I'm kinda interested.

S: Aight...being a self-discounter is all about fast hands and things that SHOULD be free. Peep, if I'm at a lunch cart, and I buy lunch...it ain't shit for me to take a pack of gum, especially since they don't watch that shit worth a damn...way I see it, they owe it to me. I'm not payin $3 for no gum, specially when its your food that made my breath hum in the 1st place...you can suck my sweaty balls, that's a scam where I come from. When you pay a crackhead to cut your grass, do you gotta pay him again to sweep the grass off your sidewalk? No, it comes free, smell me? I look at it that way.

umf: *strokes beard* I see...are there any other ways your controversial philospohy applies? I mean, ima be real...this shit funny, keep goin...

S: Glad you asked, my nigga. For example, say I buy something that works on batteries. I'm not paying for the batteries too. You sold me some shit that work on batteries, batteries should come with it. The shit don't make sense...I'm tuckin a pack of triple A's in my pocket before I roll... I take packs of kool aid all the time, they won't miss it. I rarely buy lighters or any of those things they put on the counter when you about to pay...you know, the easy to grab trinkets? Those 7-11 attendants pay less attention than they look like, dig? *laughs*

umf: *smiles* Yeah, true...now, I gotta ask you 2 questions. 1, are there any rules to self-discounting or is it kind of a free for all type thing?

S: Yeah, there's a couple: 1) I don't take shit that's worth over 10 dollars. Way I look at it, that's the point where it become serious. 2) Don't get caught, dickhead! *laughs loudly*

umf: Yeah I don't think the cops would see it your way...

S: *sits up in chair* You workin with the po-lice?! You snitchin?!

umf: Man, shut the fuck up...no, I'm just agreeing with you...no such thing as a crime long as you don't get caught, I guess...but you know better than to ask me some shit like that...aight, so second question: You take items, you admitted you take items...why should I ever trust you around my items?

S: Like I said, cuz...I don't steal from people. That shit wrong, people paid for that shit and it belongs to individual mafuckas. Them big corporations and stores and shit? ...Man, they just write that shit off when it get took. Fuck them, they makin their money either way. Are you gonna get a free replacement if I take your cell phone? Na, not at all...but if I grab a pair of wristbands from Foot Locker, they can order that shit right back up. They don't even care. That's the difference. Plus, I'm spendin money too, ain't like I'm just comin in there to discount...so they'll be aight.

umf: Hmm...aight, I could see that. Can't knock your hustle, I guess. Aight, that's all the type we have for today, any final thoughts?

S: Yeah...those black domes on the ceiling of stores are cameras. You wanna stay out from under those. They hardly ever watch or check females, so if you wanna bring a shapely helper, that's all good too. Also, tuckin' shit into a long sleeve is a quick way to extract most small items...and you can really get away with shit if you...

umf: ho-ho-hold on there, my man...you'll get me in trouble discussing those type of things in specific like that...good shit though, 'preciate you stoppin by... *shakes hand*

S: Aight fam, stay up...

umf: Yup, you do the same...don't get caught, dickhead....

S: *laughs* I never do...

* Note: At umf, we do not condone crime of any kind. Oh and the words, methods and experiences on this site are solely those of the people who spoke, used and experienced them...so miss me with that bullshit.

Random Thoughts 3- Lightning in a bottle...twice...

* if any of you raggedy mafuckas use my idea and don't break me off something, I WILL find you, and there will be heck to pay. -- the fittedwearer.

Okay, say you do win the lottery. The big money, the supermegapowerball, whatever they call it where you reside. Wouldn't it be smart to wait until the jackpot builds back up, then buy like 80 million lottery tickets? I mean, I'm no rocket surgeon, so my math ain't super advanced, but there's only a certain number of combinations a set of 7 numbers from 1-55 can come in, right? If you have enough money, you're guaranteed a win...if the jackpot big enough, you could end up doubling your money or some shit. I know that's just greedy, but see, the thing is...fuck it, if you can, why not? Just something to keep in the back of your mind...

Camera Phone Ninja Vol. 11- Yes, it worked...

*its from Pineapple Express...any religious symbolism is purely coincidental...don't even fuckin start...

So I wondered if this could actually be done ever since I saw the movie and finally had the materials and occasion to do so...so yesterday I finally said fuck it and went for it. After about 10-15 mins of lickin, caressin, and a little nibblin (and I ain't even have to buy it dinner 1st...bomchickawahwah...) I came out with this finished product. Its more fun than functional to be honest, but hey...I can now say I did it...I almost feel like I accomplished something...kinda lol

*Note from the fittedwearer to all law enforcement officials: All smokeables pictured on this site are tobacco-based. We at umf believe that folk should obey all the laws of wherever the fuck they live, and as a result do not endorse the use of illegal substances of any kind, blah blah blah, all that bullshit.

Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re:

Yo, have you ever thought about who actually starts all these chain texts/emails? Somebody has to actually spend their time and life typin this bullshit up. You know what I'm talkin about:

'This email is good luck, a woman in omaha, nebraska forwarded this to all her friends, met her true love, got married and won the lottery all in the next day...a man did not forward this and the same day he was falsely arrested and went to jail, where he was raped to death and fired from his job at his funeral...please make sure to send this to 10 of your friends in the next 5 minutes or you will suffer for the rest of your life.'

1) Like, how much of a life do you have not to have to sit there all day and make up stupid curses and shit, then plague thousands of random folk you don't know with it? What did those ppl do to make you want to cast pretend evil on them?

2) Nothin bad is gonna happen to me if I don't forward a fuckin chain text. All my kids are gonna die because I clicked 'delete'? Riiiight...how about you kiss the back of my ass?

3) Nothin good is gonna happen to me because I did forward a fuckin chain text. So a mysterious stranger will walk up to me tomorrow and hand me a big cartoon-like burlap sack with a dollar sign on the side if I forward this to 25 people? Yay!!! ...fuck outta here...

I just really wanna know what type of people do this. You got to be some kind of bored mafucka... I picture it all startin with 2 people, some pencil neck 30 yr old geek dude livin in his mom's leavenworth, kansas home and a 15 yr old home schooled white girl in southern california...its the only explanation that makes any sense, normal folk (read: folk with jobs/school/kids/lives) just don't have time...that's just my theory tho.

8.20.2009

Random thoughts 2- Heads or tails?

Aight, so if cats always land on their feet, what happens if you tie 2 cats together and dropped them from a height? (A non-lethal height...you dont want PETA up your ass, those ppl have nothing better to do...) One of those cats would have to land on they feet...but which one? I personally like to think the whole cat bundle would stop about 3 inches from the ground and spin like a magnet trying to repel its opposite...

Camera Phone Ninja Vol. 10- omg, its right behind me isn't it?

Maybe...if I don't move...it won't see me...

(Snapped this by accident! I had no idea my life was in danger lol)

Access Denied

Aight, check this out...there is no reason for you to be all up and through my phone without my express written consent. (Which, let's be real...you're prolly not gonna get...) None. What the fuck are you lookin for? What makes you think that's cool? You don't see me emptyin out your purse, rummagin thru your room and shit, all diggin in your panty drawer...why you all in my shit? Way I see it, your investigation means you either workin with Joey Greco or the police...and I can't go for that...

I'm not talkin about folk who just wanna play around with the apps...I mean, it does a lot of cool shit (like write, publish and post every word on this site) so I can understand the 'hey, cool toy' factor...I get that. If that was the only thing ppl wanted, id have no probs (and nothing to write!) but I swear, before I started putting my lock on, I couldn't hand my phone to a chick ('ooh, lemme see your phone!') without her immediately goin through all my pics/texts/whateva else...which is an automatic forfeit. I'll share the answers (and my rebuttals, natch...)

A:'What you got to hide?'
R: 'Maybe something, maybe nothin...either way, can I get my phone back?'

A:'Oh there must be something you don't want me to see...'
R: 'I would tell you, but unfortunately, that's none of ya biz...now can I get my phone back?'

A: 'Oh you must not want me to know about all those other girls...'
R: 'Nope not really (whether its true or not)...but yeah can I get my phone back?'

A: 'Damn you don't trust me?'
R: 'Should I? While you think about that, can I get my phone back?'

A: 'Cuz I can, I'm ________'
R: 'Gii'my shit...' *snatch*

As you can see, its one of the things that really get on my nerves...nah, it ain't that I don't want you goin through my stuff...actually, that's exactly what it is. To me, its like diggin in somebody's pocket...who does that? And hell...it ain't even like I got anything to hide (that ima tell you about) its just....why do you even care? You writin my biography and need to see my call log? Will seeing that I texted my herbal specialist today give you insight into my personality or some shit? Who sent you, are you some kind of facebook spy? Seriously tho...there's no reason to do that. Course its all worth it if you just keep your lock on like I do...nothing like the crushed, disappointed look on the face of a would be snooper when they see 'Please enter unlock code'...its almost sexy...lol

8.19.2009

Do you not have a mirror in the crib, sweetie?

Yo, here's an idea...you gotta have a license to drive or own a gun cuz you could hurt somebody, right? So why don't you have to have a license to wear little ass clothes? That's miniskirts, halfshirts, formfittin anything. I know it hurts my eyes (and might literally put one out if some button or something pops off under the tremendous strain and flies away at the wrong angle) to see some tank-lookin ass chick with mad pieces missing out her clothing and sweaty, gelatinous fat cascading out all the holes. Oh...and you fuckin right nobody wanna see your spongy rolls hugged by a layer of spandex...I'm lookin at you, fat bitch in the tights...what gives you the right to pollute a public scene with a HD view of your heavily dimpled thighs?

News flash babycakes, if you weigh 200 pounds and are under 6ft tall, you don't need to be wearin a micro mini nothin. Point blank period. Under my plan, females who want to wear booty shorts, a shirt that exposes more than 6 consecutive inches of flesh, or any garb of that ilk should have to apply to the Federal Decency Committee (I just made that up, but you damn right it should exist) with their measurements, weight, and a pic to determine whether they should be issued a display license, which enables them to rock shit like that. Of course, if you are caught exposing your lumpy, quivering flesh without one, there's a penalty...1st offense, $500 fine, 2nd a year in jail, 3rd death. I'm not fuckin around here, this shit gotta stop.

You might tell me I'm wrong for thinkin what folk wear should be restricted, and I'll tell you she's wrong for showin her back titties. That shit is foul. Obviously, some chicks can't hear the threads on their clothes screamin in agony when they get stretched farther than they was ever designed to...so we have to hear the pain for them. How many more tube tops will be warped beyond recognition, how many more pregnant lookin chicks will we see in shorts that barely cover her longest pubic hair, how many more eyes will have to suffer before we take action? I say the time is now...I'm writin my local congressman...

Because its not your fault...

I've decided that the word 'ugly' is too rude to use in reference to human beings...after all, everyone is beautiful in they own way and just cuz you look like you didn't evolve all the way don't mean you ain't special...I mean shit, a chick that look like an orangutan with a 5 o'clock shadow could be a talented artist or a dude who look like he fell out the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down might be able to sing or sumthin...Point is, nobody is ugly all the way through. So now, my official replacement term is 'visually repugnant'. Classier, no? Get familiar... After all, I'm sure you wouldnt look that way if you could help it...nobody chooses a face like that intentionally...

8.18.2009

ETCAM #2- Peace A Pizza (Meat Lovers)

*yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and no homo this whole post. Call me immature if you want, but google 'meat lovers' with your safesearch off and you'll see why I did. Betta not bring yo kids. Anywayz...

So I didn't know what to eat for lunch today...and I felt like takin a little stroll anyway. Unfortunately, it was like 95 degrees outside, and passin out of heat prostration aint on my to-do list today...so I went to Liberty Place. While wandering around in the food court (damn that sounds fat...) I came across the titular pizza stand. After rollin my eyes at the blatantly horrible pun/play on words (peace a pizza...its a hippie pizza place. I get it. Ha ha ha.) I decided pizza sounded pretty good. I stepped up to the counter to evaluate the slices (they're big as shit...u could run one up a flagpole...) and immediately a friendly but heavyset (um...what do you call a pizza counter worker? 'waitress?' 'slice mistress?' 'pietender?' Fuck it, I like 'pietender...') pietender in a tye-dye maternity shirt materialized in front of me and asked what kind of pizza I wanted. She clearly had been enjoying her employee discount and I took that as a good sign.

Knowing this was an important decision, I took a minute to think. They had all kinds, your standard cheese, pepperoni, sausage, all the way up to exotic shit like ricotta cheese and tomato or chicken parmesan (seriously)...and there wasn't that much of a difference in price ($2-3) I looked to and fro, seeking a slice that would suit me...that's when the blessing in the pic beckoned me. Its pepperoni, sausage, ham, bacon, and ground beef (that's a lot of meat...look at that shit!) sizzled tantalizingly under the benevolent glow of the heat lamp...I knew at that moment I had found it. Pointing, I gave the green light 'Gimme that one...' Feeling funny, as I paid she smirked and said 'Oh you like a lot of meat, huh?' After resisting the temptation to make a really mean comment (the girl still controlled my food for the next 30 seconds...I'm reckless, not stupid...) I settled on 'Not nearly as much as you, 'parently...' Not knowing whether she had been insulted or holla'd at, she laughed and gave me my change. I figured that was good enough and walked away.

I sat down with the slice and halfway admired it. Like I mentioned before, its big...and meaty. (hey, I threw in the preface, might as well take advantage of it lol) The toppings, as you can see, cover the whole damn slice and are layered 2-3 meats thick (heehee). I took a bite and almost went back and thanked the chick. This pizza is good. Besides all the meat, which is clearly seasoned, the sauce is tangy and slightly sweetish (and there's plenty of it...one of my pet peeves is pizza with no fuckin sauce. That's a open face grilled cheese sandwich, not a pizza...) and the dough is buttery and chewy with a little crunch to it and has a nice garlic taste (please have your winterfresh ready...bad breath is another nonfavorite of mine...)

Overall, the slice was tasty and satisfying. I can honestly say that was one of the best slices of pizza I've eaten so far, and best of all, one slice is enough, even for my greedy ass. (Maybe certain pietenders should figure that out sooner rather than later, but I digress.) I definitely plan on goin back, and think its worth every penny...try it out, you prolly will too.

Twitter these Nuts

After thinkin about it a lil, I realize I hate Twitter. I do. Obviously you have a computer/cool cell phone so you know what that is...or at least I hope. Anyway, I think its the most pointless shit ever in the history of humankind...I mean, seriously...what possible important shit can you say with 140 (I think) letters? Did you know they ran a study on Twitter, and only 8% of the posts on the ENTIRE website were about anything at all? Which means 92% of the things you read on there are 'omg I'm bored lol', 'i had a great time last night, wish I could find my panties' or 'im sitting on the porch'...and people spend all day on that mafucka. I do not get it at all...I don't get the appeal. (Apparently neither do Twits...I asked one person why she liked Twitter, she said "I don't...but everyone else does so I got one"...great rationale sweetie...)

Its like they took all the worst parts of Facebook and Myspace and put them together... If I wanted to sit there and read random facebook statuses all damn day, I'd...y'know...get on Facebook...at least FB does other things. By the way...Twitter is not a fuckin news source. It doesn't belong on the newspaper or on the TV news that anybody said anything on Twitter, cuz 1) it might not be them...anybody could get a pic and say they whoever they want. I bet right now if I got a pic of some random female celebrity, started a Twitter account and said I was pregnant it would be in the fuckin' paper and all over the internet by this afternoon...I think that's tragic... and 2) Its fuckin' Twitter. What's next, they gonna start publishing celebrity text messages and shit? Its that deep?

And don't even get me started on how I feel about 'following' folk. (No, you don't make friends on Twitter, you follow folk) Mafucka, I'm not followin you, I don't even know you! (Imagine if a dude came up to you in the street talkin bout some "follow me"...nigga please...) My mommy raised me not to be a follower. Only people over the age of 5 that follow other people are tour groups, cult members and stalkers...come the fuck on. Not only that...you don't post, you 'tweet'. Now you tell me if a grown ass man should be tweeting under any circumstances...tweeting in real life can get you in a straitjacket or your ass kicked depending on where you are. I don't think it should be any different online. Point is, Twitter sucks, you prolly suck if you use it, and whoever came up with that bullshit should be hung upside down, filled with candy and beaten with a stick. But that's just one man's opinion...

Today on Maury...a lifetime of therapy...

You know what, I wonder what happens with the kids of those folk on maury...yeah, most of em are under 2 years old at the time, but what happens when they get older? I mean shit, how would you feel if you was 13 and came across a tape or see a rerun (you know they still gonna show em...) of your mom sittin on stage lookin like a straight up chickenhead screamin she '1000% sure he's the father' as 17 dudes in a row get paraded across the stage one by one to see who's ya daddy and 16 of em bust out the Farnsworth Bentley-type happy dance when they find out they never gotta see you or your smut ass mommy again? (Fun fact: did you know all the dudes that get tested for the same child had to have unprotected sex with that chick within like a 2-week period? That's what's up, right?)

Its gonna be real hard to go to school the day after that comes on/comes out...I mean, everybody knows your mom is a smutbucket dickholster...sounds like bad times to me... Hard enough goin to school every day havin a fucked up mispronouceable name like most maury kids got (we went over that...) without everyone in the building knowin your mom slapped stomachs with a whole minor-league baseball team that one night...so for poor Dantayvious, that means every yo momma joke in the book is true, and if one of your classmates says he fucked your mom last night, he might not be jokin. I think that's fucked up and pretty damn humorous...but a damn shame lol...

8.17.2009

It all started with this pic...

*After reading WorkWill, some folk (quite understandably) wondered why in the purple fuck somebody would steal a pic and what was the story behind the 'creepy bitch'...the first question I'm still tryin to answer, but I'll at least tell the story.

"the Horny Heist"

So a few months ago I took a pic with the World Series trophy and put it on my desk. I didn't have any pics or decorations in my workspace, which I thought made me look like some kind of serial killer or sumthin so I thought it would be nice to have a pic there. I displayed it and it was actually a pretty cool convo piece until one morning I came in, looked at my pic and instead saw...

this. Now, I'm not sure what would possess a mafucka to think I would fail to notice such a janky counterfeit bullshit imitation, but I didn't. I thought it was just a regular office prank, so I just walk around cussin/interrogatin folk...until I opened my desk and found a special delivery...

a ransom note. A fuckin ransom note for a pic. Now obviously, I think the shit is utterly ridiculous (and a little funny...hell, I'll take a compliment out of a ransom note, its fine with me...) so I show I can play a joke too...I copy a $50 bill, cut it to size, and left it...and from there I just kinda waited the joke out...or so I thought. Nobody ever came to take my funny money...day 2 comes and goes, day 3 comes and goes...and the 'joke' gets less funny and more creepy. It's after a couple weeks I realize that that was no joke and that I have a stalker somewhere in my building. Its been about 4 months and I still haven't seen my fuckin pic since...what wakes me up at night is the fact that somewhere, sumbody is prolly makin my pic sticky. What keeps me up at night is the fact that I'm not 100% sure its a female (plz, plz, God, Jesus, Buddha, Allah, whoever's listening...let it be a female...) Anyway, that's the story...yeah, I'm just as confused as you are...

Girl Talk (A letter to the otherside)

*fittedwearer's note: special thanks go out to Nadine, who's completely uncalled for narration of her...process...disgusted me into action on this. Thx a lot...

So, I'm gonna say something to the ladies in the room on behalf of the dudes, this needed to be said for a while...and please take this to heart.

Dear Ladies:

See now, I love y'all but...nobody wants to hear about your cycle. (Yeah, I don't like saying or typing the actual word, because...yeah, eww...but 'cycle' sounds nice...like a washing machine or a relaxing bike ride...I digress though...) Seriously, why do y'all always feel the need to drop knowledge about that? Detailed descriptions of uterus walls and cramps and all that...I don't wanna know, I have no reason to know...please keep that to yourself or talk to a female.

And another thing, I'm not going out to get you no damn pads either. I'm proud to say the only pads I ever touched were under my football uni...and whenever I caught a cramp (in my leg or something, smartass...) my coach would tell me to walk it off. With thanks to Coach Leary, I think that's good advice, and that's why I offer it to you too. Walk it off to Rite Aid and fix yourself, plznthanku. We're responsible for condoms because only we need them...and that's why y'all are responsible for y'all own drip catchers and flow corks and shit. Yeah, it's that serious.

The most common rebuttal I get when I say these things to a chick after the 1st time she tells me all that shit I don't wanna know is "Oh, well you're gonna have a daughter one day, blahblahblah..." Cool...but where's her mom? Aunt? Girl cousins? Any of them know way more than I ever will about riding the tide...why would she ask me? If she wants to know how to throw a spiral pass or how to make a grilled cheese sandwich with a iron (go 'head, ask...) I'll be happy to help her...but there ain't a whole lot I can tell her about that. If I bleed for 5 days, I'm gonna die, that's all I know.

To sum up, all I'm trying to say is I think females are great and their bodies are great too...I just don't need to know every single thing that goes on with them...seriously. How am I supposed to form an attractive picture of you if all I can picture is you with a wounded crotch? That's not sexy in the least, sorry. So...please, next time you think about tellin your boyfriend/male friend/anybody with balls how heavy your day is or how bad your cramps are...put a maxi pad in your mouth too...because sometimes that's the worst flow of all.

Love,

AJ (and most other dudes)

I dont wanna offend nobody, so ill ask...

Is it racist to: call a black mechanic a grease monkey? Call a mexican in the shower a wetback? Call a white dude who beeps his horn a lot while drivin a honky? Say an asian has chinks in his armor? Walk into a clean, organized spanish home and say its spic and span? Just askin before I say the wrong thing... lol

Just in case...

Anybody ever think by watchin 'police chases', 'hot pursuit' or 'most __________' (shocking, daring, stunning, etc) enough and payin attention they could actually flee the cops successfully if the need arose? Its kinda like pursuit school...take some notes and DON'T do what the folk who got caught did. (btw, that's almost everybody...they hardly ever show the ones where the guy gets away, even tho it does happen...) Avoid the pit maneuver, don't go offroad (especially in your 96 Kia...dickhead), watch wtf you doin, don't drive directly up to your own house, and if you end up runnin on foot, don't run and hide behind a fuckin dumpster 20 feet away or run into a big open field if you don't got no sprint to you...other than that you should be good...

8.16.2009

No Hats Allowed

I found out something about myself last night...despite me bein down for a lot, and a pretty open person overall I can't compromise the way I feel about certain shit, no matter how petty or insignificant it may seem to other folk...its just the way I are. See, there was supposed to be a night of clubbin on the agenda last night...I got all dressed up seein as the dress code was upscale casual, whatever the fuck that means...I interpreted it as the shit I wear to work at the law office I work at (polo shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a fitted...which is important, you'll see why.) I mean, shit, I figure if its good enough for me to make money in, its good enough for me to spend it in, right? Wrong. Soon as I get to the door, a bouncer politely informs me that there will be no hats allowed in the building. This brings up a longstanding thing of mine about hats and requires a little background on me if you're even gonna pretend to understand (or give a fuck).

The thing is, I've worn a fitted every single day since 8th grade and everybody who has known me for more than 2 days knows that, hence the site name...get it now? Yes, to school, to prom, to job interviews (I can get a job in my fitted, but I cant get drunk and two step in it?!), to work and yes...to the club. Believe me, I've encountered my share of resistance and gotten past it all...cuz, shit...fuck it...I bought it, its mine, its on, I'm wearin it...if you don't like it you can nibble a dick. I feel like its just as much part of my outfit as my pants (never saw a no pants allowed sign at a club or anywhere else, tho on second thought it don't seem like a bad idea)...its just my twist, fuckin sue me. I personally never understood society's whole thing against hats...it ain't a weapon, it ain't hurting anybody...leave me alone...plus ill be good and gahdamned if I gotta pay to get in a place and they gon tell me what I can and can't wear...I'm payin you to tell me what to do? I could get married and get that for free every day...kiss my natural black ass.

Anyway, that particular moment put me at a crossroads...was I really gonna go home (as in not go in, waste a ride and all the prep time that goes into goin out, and miss the good time to be had) just cuz they told me I have to take off my hat? I asked myself if I was really that petty...then I thought about the fact that they were just as petty as I was for tellin me I couldn't come in with my hat. I mean, how trivial is that? I came all the way here with it and now you're gonna tell me I can't wear it because...you said so? After I spent about 5 minutes thinkin about it that way, the decision was easy. Screw you guys, I'm goin home.

On the ride home, I went back and forth between thinkin 'that was so stupid...' and being proud of myself for not compromising what I believe in for any reason. Yeah, I lost out on the club that night but got something a whole lot more important...a look at who I really am, and really its about somewhere in the middle. Yeah it was kinda dumb to go through all that and not actually go for that small reason...I see that...but it also spoke volumes on the things about myself I'm just not willing to bend for nobody...some folk call that stubborn, but its also commonly referred to as personal integrity (its who you are when nobody else is lookin, for the illiterate mofos)...and it seems like that is way more rare nowadays than any club event. It seems like most people are way too eager to follow the rules just because they there. You might say why ask why, I say always ask. A little bit of 'i just ain't finna...' can really help you be true to yourself and that's when I realized it wasn't about the fitted at all (well, kinda) but the principle...and that's when I finally felt justified for the decision I made. Besides, the drinks were way cheaper at home...

8.15.2009

iMom

So my moms requested me on facebook the other day (it really must be 2009....) and I'm torn like shit...I mean, I love my mommy obviously so I can't reject her...you never know how deep folk take this internet shit, folk get married and divorced online...ppl even die over myspace and shit so denying a fb request from a parent coud get a me cut out of the will or sumthin. On the other hand, there's that snitch ass news feed. I can't have all my debauchery (with photo evidence!) condensed in a convenient all-in-one package for my mom to go through...lets face it, we all do shit we dont exactly want our 'rents all up on...that's just not poppin. Plus, I'm not 100% sure she still can't find a way to put a nigga on punishment even as a grown man lol...point is, I'm really at a impasse right now...any suggestions, umf'ers?

Birthday Texts

Aight let's get some shit straight right quick. All those bullshit late night commercials talkin bout 'text SEXY to 34192 to get a steamy text message from hot singles in your area' are a) tragically sad if you dead seriously expect to find love by textin some random mafucka you don't know (how about you, oh, idk...go out and meet real 3D ppl like a normal fuckin person) and b) ripe opportunities for epic, embarrassing failure, seeing as you have no idea who just replied to your little hornified sex message (because everybody knows fine females just stay home on Friday nights and flirt with anonymous mafuckas thru text messages...)...so that sexy dimepiece you think you seducin with your thumbs just might be big ass Da'Quon fresh outta the pen tryna trick fools into comin over his crib so he can rip out your lining. (Oh, yes...that means exactly what you think it mean...) Ain't nothin gangsta about that. So do everyone a favor and get off your lonely little ass and try meetin females the regular way before you text 'HERMIT' to 12075...the day you save may be your own.

Identiy Crisis

I never understood why some bars and other places that require ID don't accept an expired license. I mean, did I stop being that person on the card who looks just like me and has my name at midnight on the expiration date? I mean, sometimes I can't find the current one or just don't wanna give it in case I forget it and don't have it for...you know...driving? Its still me on the fuckin card! Are you seriously accusing me of stealin my own identity? Is somebody else me now? I don't get it, the shit makes no sense to me.

Camera Phone Ninja Vol.9- Bad Religion

So this delightful group of cult-lookin mafuckas are the Black Isrealites. If you never lived in Philly, these are ppl who dress up like sorcerers and preach random religious shit way outta context at the top of they lungs, whether you buyin what they sellin or not. These are Jehovahs Witnesses on steroids, cuz they don't knock on your door and ask whether you wanna talk about eternal salvation and shit...they wait til you out and about and preach heat-seeking gospel to anybody in earshot. Its this type of folk who make ppl laugh at devout religious folk, cuz they subscribe to the theory that the louder your message is, the more truth it contains...the guerrilevangelists preaching sessions are half church, half boot camp call and response, half Ray Lewis pregame speech...but hell, Philly wouldn't be the same place without em. I mean, who wants to walk down Center City without being screamed at out of a bible?

8.14.2009

PSA: 'Dabaddestbitch18'?! Who told you that?

If you are an unattractive female, effective immediately you are no longer allowed to use the following words in ur screenname/gamertag: 'sexy', 'lovely', 'dime' ('piece' eitha), 'cutie', 'fine' or 'diva. This, like wonderbras and buttpad panties, is false advertisement of the most egregious kind. No more of these she-nanigans will be tolerated. Failure to comply with this new rule will result in a more accurate screenname bein assigned 2 u...and unless u wanna end up as 'heavyma17', 'homelychick1', or 'erectionkilla69'...I strongly suggest you get down with the get down...'preciate your compliance...

Camera Phone Ninja Vol. 8: One Blood (donor)

So there was a blood drive at my job today and I for some reason decided to participate. (it was a hour and a half off of work...) Don't I look excited?

any time you see these things, its prolly never good...

strapped up...meanwhile my heart poundin like shit...then I remembered I can't bitch up wearin a Captain America shirt. That cotton bravado lasted me til...

they put that fuckin cutlass they called a needle in my fuckin ARM!!! I wish I coulda snapped a flick of this fuckin needle, that shit looked like a african blowdart...

my blood...(it doesn't turn blue until football season officially starts) I'm just glad this is over...I'm typin this lightheaded as shit...they told me I couldn't drink tonight...oh yeah, I'm gonna listen lol

the aftermath...oh, and that look in my eyes is just effects from the procedure... *shifty eyes*...anyway, it was pretty fun and I just might win some philles tix 4 my trouble...(because helpin others is even sweeter when youre helpin you too.)

Camera Phone Ninja Vol.7: Do you know what superhero this is?

Wonder Woman? Hawkgirl? Xena? If you guessed Sasha Fierce, you're right (and you need to not listen to as much B.) Anyway, I wonder what superpowers she has? Sonic booms? A gyration that shakes the earth? X-ray nipples? The power to grow her own hair and not look like a snatchback-ponytail-and-poppin-gum hoodrat without makeup? I always thought B was a tadski overrated, but this...*sigh* I just wanna know when the hell Beyonce went from tolerable pop singer to intergalactic costumed defender. Who buys this shirt? I swear if I see a Sasha Fierce Saturday morning cartoon, people will die...

Swilla #1-Captain Morgan Tattoo

*the Swilla section is where I'll discuss one of my favorite subjects besides the Dallas Cowboys, titties, and everyones favorite plant (we'll get to that in the upcoming That Herb Column section...): liquid fun. It's just some of my favorite shit to sip on when my get right needs some get right...hell, who knows, maybe you'll like it too. Anyways, with no further ado we get to our first feature: Captain Morgan Tattoo.

Put quite succinctly, this some good shit, patna. This dark rum is smoother than a dead man's pulse, tasty by itself over ice or dangerous with Coke/Pepsi (its the same damn thing until sumbody pays me to say different) because its cherryish undertones play so nicely with cola you barely notice it's there until you suddenly can't stand up right. At 70 proof (35% alcohol) its not the punchiest liq, but its so easy to drink you'll have no problem gettin just as embarrassingly trasheded (yes, trasheded) as you damn well please. Its strong enough for the fellas but charming enough for the ladies, which makes it a bangin party selection. It's about mid-range priced (18 for the 750ml, 35 for the handle) so if you're sick of drinkin E&J, give this a shot...I don't think you'll regret it...

Hangover Magic...happy friday!

Well, its Friday, umf'ers...and that means the weekend is so close I can already taste vodka in my oj (and it ain't even there!) Yes, the weekend party drinker has a fun night...but a suckish morning...that brings me to one of my old frienemies...the hangover. Any drinker worth the term is gon get hungover sumtimes. Its a fact of life and when juxtaposed against the good time you had hours earlier, brings balance to the universe. Has to happen sumtimes. Anyway, I'm finna share my remedy. It got me to work fresh as a daisy many a time (today...) so its only right I spread my gospel of healin 2 y'all.

Dr. AJ's Foolproof Alcohol Withdrawal System.

1)If (when) you get up feelin like blowin chunks (its a medical term)...do it! In the toilet/trashcan asshole. Don't yack on nothin you're gonna have to clean for more than 60 seconds. This is the first step in your healing, and the longer you hold it in, the worse you're gonna feel.

2)Smoke. Trust me on this one.

3)Eat. And not no janky ass cereal either. You know you don't feel like cooking. Drag your zombie ass outta bed and go to ihop if you can, McDonald's if you can't.

4) drink water (gatorade works even better) all morning and you'll be cool by 9.

It has helped me look alive in the morning so many times...and now I give it to you.

Quit doggin Vick out...

*As a policy this post will not make any positive comments about the Philadelphia Eagles.
Signed,
the good folks at undermyfitted.

Some people say what he did was vile and reprehensible, some say 'its just dogs'... I'm more in line with the latter, but I understand what he did broke the law and as a result he had to spend some time in a correctional facility (y'know, that place they house folk who have made bad choices to, in theory, CORRECT them.) But he paid his debt to society. He lost a fortune in the process, and as a bonus got to watch himself on TV for 2 years with everybody screaming how the guy is evil incarnate. Believe me...he's not even gonna wanna look at a dog. My question here is: (to paraphrase the great philosopher Shawn Carter c.1996) Can he live? I'm not gonna get too cliche here, but cuz just wants to play football. Whether you really don't care about what he did or you think he's a Hitler-Beelzebub hybrid whose sole purpose is to kill animals for fun like some extremely hype mafuckas do...you gotta agree the man has suffered quite enough. Let the man play football in peace and move on with his life, everyone got their pound of flesh outta this guy...least he deserves is a fair shot to start over...

8.13.2009

What's your beef with soap, my dude?

I swear fo gawd I have never been able to grasp how grown ass folk be stankin ('stinking' doesn't quite capture the severity of the situation)...well, any time at all really, but especially early in the morning. I mean...how the fuck did you get out of bed smellin all like refried ass, bypass the shower, and come to work like the shit cool? And naaaaaa, dousing yourself in AXE or TAG or whatever other 3 letter spraysmell in a can you use dont count as a fuckin shower...you should be ashamed of you for thinkin so.

Maybe its cuz if I even thought about goin anywhere smellin like bad news, I think my mommy would find me and beat my natural black ass, even as a grown man. (Y'know, cuz I was...um...raised right?) You mean to sit there and tell me your moms/grandma/aunt/big bro/whoever raised your triflin self never taught you to wash that ass before you came outside? Odor is what's poppin in the streets now? You think that shit cute?

I would think if you smell that bad, it would not only sicken you, but make you less likely to seek out close encounters with other folk. But that ain't how it works right? Them the mafuckas who wanna get all in your radius, too close and personal...now, I try to live my life in a non-ig'nant manner, but when a mafucka come in my face smellin like underarms and cuss words, I take that as a threat (you could singe a brotha nose hairs like that!) or at the very least a personal insult...its really hard not to get mad.

Lookit, its real simple...you a grown person and you are responsible for your hygiene...nobody wants to smell your odiferous stench...wash your fuckin ass! I'm writin my congressman to see if I can get stankin' outlawed...maybe when you can get locked the fuck up for assaulting people's noses, mafuckas will get familiar with some gahdamn soap...

It weighs on my mind...

Aight...so I was watchin one of those Discovery channel shows about people who are too fat to live normally and shit...I'm a solidly built dude and nobody has accused me of bein skinny since I was like 10, so I love eatin as much as the next man (see: ETCAM)...food is delicious, and let's be real...its fun to eat, dammit.

That said, I just can't fuckin see how you eat and eat until you weigh 600, 700 pounds or some outlandish shit...how can you know for a fact that your belly button is 2 feet deep and you gotta be poured outta bed in the mornin and keep eatin deep fried chocolate covered cheesesteaks with extra ranch dressing? How can you live that way? Doesn't not being able to look down cuz of your neck fat depress you? I know not seeing my dick for years at a time would alarm the shit outta me.

Like I said, I aint nobody's health professional, but I would think if I couldnt get outta bed, theres a problem and something has to give here. Its sad (and a little funny...) I don't know man...enjoy your heart attacks I guess...its really hard to feel sorry for folk like that...

PSA: Hoodrat Names

Lets talk about names for a minute, my brothas and sistas...You whitefolk who picked up this delightful little habit listen up too. I'm the last person to knock bein unique, that word (and the negative forms like "weird") has been leveled at me a few times...but the name you give ur little blessing is one they're rockin' for a lifetime (or at least until they old enough to hate you enough to change it...), so theres no fuckin' excuse to ether your baby boy's life before it starts by naming him D'Xerxes...the fuck is that?

Anybody who hoodfabs a historical name and gives it to their child (That means no DePlato, no LeSocrates, and no gahdamn TaNaLaCleopatra...) should be reported to DHS for abuse. Thats just wrong. Another thing, you can name your baby girl L'Alize Mercedes if you damn well please, its a free country...but dont be shocked when she becomes a pornstar by her 18th bday...you gave her a built-in onscreen name...

Moreover, there is, was and never will be a fuckin reason to name your child 'Telligent. (True story!) What did that child do to you? What if he's dumber than a sack of wet bricks? The jokes write themselves, he's gonna hear em all through school, and he's gonna end up killin himself out of depression...is that what you want?! I know I woulda wanted to attack my parents if they had named me some extravagoutlandish shit...point is, you only get to name your kids once, so please dont fuck it up with some ole made up nigga-rig bullshit...kthxbye...

Camera Phone Ninja Vol. 6- Kang-what?

Oh aight...

8.12.2009

ETCAM 1- Five Guys

*fittedwearer's note: ETCAM (Eat the cake, AnnaMae or eat-cam) is the section of this thing I dedicate to random fat food (sorry, whole foods shoppers, but fuck you...) that are great...nobody's telling you to eat shit like this every day or even every week...cuz you'll get fat as fuck and die of a heart attack and I'll laugh at you...but its good...

First up, Five Guys Burgers and Fries...its expensiveish (the meal in the pic runs like $10) but fuck me if it ain't good...the meat is fresh, the potatoes for the fries (which are pretty good, not my favorites, but shit...the star of the meal is the burger anyway...) are flown in every day from Idaho, and the soda is...syrup and carbonated water, what the fuck did you expect? 

Anyway, there you can get basically anything within reason on your burger. This customization really is underrated until you take that first hot, juicy bite and realize that it's exactly what you wanted and pat yourself on the back for your good taste. (My personal burger? Bacon cheeseburger, lettuce, tomato, fried onion, pickles, mustard and A1 sauce...that's me tho, do you.)
Its almost a sense of accomplishment.

 Like I said, I wouldn't recommend eatin this more than 2x a month (the pic makes me hungry as shit and a little sick at the same time) but fuck it, I say treat yourself every once in a while. This restaurant is the best thing to come out of Maryland since...uh...yeah...um...ever. Give them a try one day and thank me later...

Random Thoughts 1- Think fast

Aight, say there's an olympic sprinter, right...Usain Bolt in the face mafucka...and he puts on a dead sprint on a street where the speed limit is 20...he gets up to 30 or something real quick because, obviously, he fast as fuck...should he get a ticket? Technically he was speeding...and the sign don't say 'CAR speed limit'...it says speed limit...so is he breaking the law? I wonder...

Camera Phone Ninja Vol. 5- I dont think Mike would approve...

Louis Vuitton eitha. This is not what's hot in the streets. This is like havin a yves st.-laurent gucci gap t-shirt...wrong on so many levels...

CPN 5 bonus: (seen in a chinese store) Mike would slap you on sight if he saw you wearing these...

aight, streets check this out...you cannot get Jordans from the corner store. They made these sunsabitches by hand behind the counter 3 minutes before you walked in, don't fool yaself. They're gonna fall apart in a week and if you look closely, you can see the Jordan logo is frowning... Now you know, there's no excuse...don't do it to yourself...

Pop quiz culture

It seems the chirren are gettin dumber and dumber as time goes by...go head, peep a kid born in 2000-on...little D'Quayvion (yup) or LaPrecious (uh-huh) prolly failin english and lunch, but they know every dumb ass Soulja Boy song, spend 7 hours a day on the PS3 and twitter (tweet? twit?) like its goin out of style. But I got a solution...the secret is to hide the lesson...in plain sight.

Are you tellin me if I gave it a catchy enough beat the little monkeys wouldn't "crank dat math walk?" Imagine kids jiggin around reciting multiplication tables... Or how about MySpace starts requirin a word be spelled correctly before you can login? (spelling ain't that big of a deal to me, but anytime you see a movie starring nas labeled 'Belley' in a kids room, there's a problem...true story.) A history question 2 access Xbox live? N n3 kIid wH0 tYp3zz lyK3 th1s sHoUld b pUn1sheD $eVerE1y b3f0Re hE fUcK ar0uNd N wRit3 HiZZ ReZooMaY LyKe ThIs...We got 2 do better 4 our kids, brothas and sistas...these little people are our future, gahdammit...

Camera Phone Ninja Vol. 4- It's pimpin, pimpin...

As you can see, this stylish oldhead (that's Philly talk for 'elder') has clearly come from getting money of some kind. Whether he just came from collecting from his hoes (who I hope paid the man...) or just got finished preaching in somebody's hustler church, his purple seersucker suit clearly indicates his og status...check the gold nugget bracelet! Don Magic Juan would be proud...

peep the patent leather kicks!

peep the patent leather kicks!

and of course the hat...sadly, no feather...

8.11.2009

Camera Phone Ninja Vol.3- Labor of Love

Ok, so this ain't technically in line with the theme of CPN, but I just thought I'd show everybody what I do at work lol

Jersey Girl

So the other day I was talkin to this sticky looking chick on the train to work or whatever...makin convo, I ask where she's from. she says Jersey. (steeerike one, but I continued to talk to her) I ask what brings her across the bridge, and she tells me...(drumroll plz)...she's goin to the clinic at 8 in the fuckin morning...

My thoughts at that moment were: #1: !!!, #2: no good can come of this, cuz she prolly eitha pregnant or got something #3: if I ever speak to this chick again, its only a matter of time until her baby daddy/disease/phone call from the Maury show pops up and attacks me... I did not listen to another word she spoke...I just remember she gave me her number and got off a lil after that...but I'll be good and gahdamned if I ever call her this side of forever...no deal, babe...

Camera Phone Ninja Vol.2- painful, permanent lies...

Here we have a delightful ink fail...(no its not the greatest pic, but I did it on the sly, so fuck you...) This 'lady' has the unmitigated gall to get "I'm the shit" inside a toilet paper roll tatted on her arm (squint hard and trust me, you can see it...) ...k, now not only is that clearly not the case, its an overall stupid tat. But whatever sweetie...you like it, I love it, shit...gave me entry material...

Camera Phone Ninja Vol. 1-Damn, just speak for all of us, right?

*offer only valid under rainbow street signs, results may vary elsewhere...

'Oh I know you...' *reject*

So I recently resurrected my Facebook (fuck you, FB support...) and some of my old friends and a few I made since my old Facebook started requestin me. Thats both fine and dandy, that's what's supposed to happen. The problem I have is with folk who I know or know of but don't fuck with...or, y'know, like... I reckon they just added me cuz they recognize my name from high school or some shit: 'Oh, he never talked to me a day in my life, but we graduted together and I sat in his general area in a class we had 2 days a week, but fuck it, we friends...' See...I ain't like you in real life then, I don't like your picture now. So I'm proposin a new rule: if we aint friends in the matrix, don't try to socially network with me eitha...or in shorter terms, 'Gimme myspace, get outta my facebook...'

The Smoking Gun

Valtrex is evil. You know the shit...that herpes 'medication' with the commercial: happy whitefolk skipping along the beach (though I would think one of them wouldn't be so damn jolly since they have herpes...anyway...) It claims to make you LOOK LIKE you ain't got herpes, but won't stop your herped-up ass from giving it out to other folk like fuckin' party favors...ain't that a awful lot like puttin a silencer on a gun? It'll still kill you, you just won't know what the fuck happened...that's complete bullshit, y'all.