canadian club?

fruncle paul, ya'll.

friend + uncle +paul.

and that's what you get.

the cucch and i took a very early trip this mornin'.

we had to see a guy about a ride to the airport.

really flippin' early like.

he left for vancouver,

y'know, in canada,

for a few months of heavy duty restaurant opening..

like my man wyclef sang,

he'll be gone 'til november...

we all already miss him already.

i got a whole bunch of treats from a whole bunch of folks.

yesterday was apparently 'make albie psyched day',
because my ill gotti gigante stump connection brought by a quartet of warrior war logs,

and,

the weiner guy dropped off a fresh pumpkin coobook.

nice, kids.

i have the very best clients there could possibly be.

no joke.

i spent the day whalloping wallets and beatin' up on biceps, backs, and big toes.

i doo-doo that freaky sh!t pretty dang hard these days.

i almost want to start trying to feel guilty

about breathing bacterial battle-beastliness

into their bloodstreams,

but sniffling, sniveling, and sneezing can't stop the rockin', mutha-lickzzz;

i got ills to make, i got bills to pay. i got skills to sharpen.

all at the same time, even.

gettin' whilst the gettings is good, as they say.

early mornings, late nights, leaky roofs, and leaky noses...

it's all really happening.

i'm lucky to have what i've got going on,

and for the getters i get it going on along with.

eleven.

the volume, the concentration, the whole poem, ya'll.

warriors of woodsly goodness,

loud and hard;

never quiet, never soft.....