Once You Go Black, You Go Deaf.

But sometimes he can be very inconvenient.

Like when mom wakes me up by pulling the sheets off and I have morning wood.

Still better than a vagina though.

Usual I don’t remember my dreams but this past week I’ve been able to recall them everyone morning.

• Sunday night- I dreamed we drove behind my old neighborhood into some exclusive golf course, it started to hail, and I saw some titties.
• Monday night- I dreamed my dad bought two cases of Samuel Adam Russian Stout and I stole one even though I knew he’d find out. (I’ve been wanting to try that exact beer for a while now and was very dissapointed when I woke up and realized twas a dream).
• Tuesday night- I dreamed that I got really drunk and smoked weed for the first time… and LOVED it. That’s kinda the reason I haven’t smoked thus far.
• Wednesday night- This one’s pretty fuzzy but I think I was skating a bowl and tearing that shit up.

and make it be Friday when I look at the calendar.

I just found some old pictures I used to keep on my dresser. Five years ago my parents made me hide them because we were selling our house and they didn’t want potential buyers to know we were black.

Of course all anyone looking at the house would’ve had to to do was look at our cd collection or sneak a glance at my moms hair products and the jig was up.

I have always found you be be one fine-ass, sexy milf. I think most of my feelings towards you are due to the fact that my first real introduction to you was the movie Unfaithful. You did some really hot sexing in that film. The more you age, the more my erection grows (opinions subject to change once you hit 55…ish)

Jennifer Garner on the other hand, you’re a narrow faced bitch. I don’t like you.

Sorry, I just watched Jumper and now it’s Juno. Oh, and you’re not my good side either Ellen Paige, I got my eye on you.

Imma tap on that ass, but Imma hit it with class/
You say you don’t want Bryan but you’re see-through like glass.
Haters gonna hate until i put ‘em on blast/
I work this system of life, you at the bottom of the caste.

And by “Freestyle” I mean I sat at my computer for five minutes only to come up with 2 bars. Did you get the caste system reference, huh, didya?

Time to pick up some last minute party supplies, you know: beer, cups, plates. Wow, judging from that list you wouldn’t even have guessed that it’s a 40’s party. Latezz.

(775): Not good, Ive never been this late. We need to talk.
(504): Error 1684C: You’re last text was undeeliverable. Subscriber is our to the aera. (via)

Thank you Stephen and Taryn for officially introducing me.

Among my close group of friends I’m know as “The Good Guy” and in comparison to most of them, I am a little different. I don’t smoke, I’ve never done drugs, and I don’t hook up (still holding on to that v-card yo!). But during the times when I hang out with the type of girls who I could see myself being in an actual relationship with I feel like a pig. Suddenly I find myself shying away from the drinking and cursing that’s part of my occasional party lifestyle. It’s times like these that I truly get to know myself; I’m the best of the worst and the worst of the best.

Once again, I’m on one of my religious rants but those 12 years of Christian education were right, being luke-warm sucks.

While attending this little shindig tonight in Scottsdale I began talking to a girl who noticed something red on my knuckles. She made a comment like ” Oh my god, why do you have blood on your hands? Who have you been fighting”. To be quite honest, I hadn’t bee fighting anyone and since I’m an honest guy I told her “Honestly, I don’t know where that blood came from, I haven’t punched anything”. So I washed the blood off and continued with our conversation. It wasn’t until after we said our goodbyes and she left with her friends that I realized that the “blood” was just the rain water mixing with the leftovers from the Flaming Hot Cheetos I had eaten earlier. Looks like the only blood I get on my knuckles is from the Red Dye #7 in Flaming Hot Cheetos. Ha, how cute.

There’s no such thing as a “cold shower” in the Arizona Summer. You’re two options are hot and scolding hot.

Dogwood.