that's some sh!t.
when it comes to flavor points,
in case you're keeping score-
it goes all the way, kids.
and let me take a little minute to mention:
i love the mail.
it brings me my treats.
and i love my treats.
UPS counts as mail, right?
i hope so,
because they sure bring a big bountiful
cornucopia of special speedy deliveries over here.
so what can brown do for me?
it already has, my ninjas...
i got a tasty package of soulfully sexual
smoke-seasoned, hand-hammered
chester copperpot hottness:
c'mon, mutha-uckas!!
if that oval of devastating dopeness doesn't
make my peoples pop the hardest, ragingest,
hard-style style-boners,
well,
then those boner-less poppers are Off The List.
so hard.
and,
you know what's even better?
that isn't close to all i got either-
but,
those pictures will have to wait.
this much hottness can't be absorbed
by the common man in just one viewing.
there's also a big ol' box of other 'nother fixtures an' that.
so many fresh and amazing super-dope design features.
...treats!
this bathroom is shaping up to be explosively bad-A*.
i'm in love with it, a little tiny bit;
and i may also have made a worthy new buddy-
larry is full-on bringing the thunder down on this project.
really,
above and beyond the capacity of everyday handy manliness.
thanks, buddy!
***********
y'know,
sometimes white folks get it wrong;
and other times,
white folks get it really wrong.
i'm well aware of B.H.M. being in full effect,
but i'm just not okay with overgeneralized racial innuendo.
i don't know who let the crackers up here think they
could be a part of the month-long magic
just by gettin' down on some ribs.
that's scandalously stereotypical.
and,
i'm pretty sure nobody meant tattooed ribs.
so although that's all i did, all damn day long,
i'm fairly certain that "barbecued"
was the correct method.
yeah?
oh, come ON, for crying out loud.
hilarious.
***********
i'm cool with ugly people, ya'll.
but only when they're dope.
lately, however,
i find that there's some kind of conspiracy
of doo-doo buttery weak-sauce sorcerers
tryin' to F* with my well-being.
no jokes, duders.
there are some broke, busted disgusties
oozing around the valley,
harshing up the scenic sights of woodsly goodness.
what's worse?
three seperate clients have made casual mention
of my own lack of dashing features
and pleasing physical attributes.
as if somehow,
my personal perceptions of ugly dopeness
are so severely skewed,
i'm actually akin to the stump-creatures
cavorting out from their crevasses...
then again,
how worthy, bold, and actively participating
are those judgemental beholders?
if i look like i've fallen victim to some hard livin',
maybe it's because i'm just livin' so hard.
that's word.
be ugly,
be dope.
never quiet, never soft.....
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