Wednesday, December 7, 2011

YOU AIN'T GOT NO MOTHER FUCKING HATERS!

Seriously,

You don’t.

But I don’t blame you for thinking that people hate on you with such ferocity you feel the need to talk about them all the time. No, it is not your fault.

Like my white predecessors before me and those who will certainly come after, I blame this on rap music. Although it's my favorite genre of music, I will not excuse what it has done to an entire generation of youth.

You see, it wasn’t until the popularity of rap music became mainstream that people began to have all these mother fucking “haters”. Let me define this term for you as best I can.


HATERS: derived from the Latin for jerk. Used popularly by people who are insecure and project the hate of themselves onto others.

So these haters people speak of, who are they? Where are they? How often do you encounter them in your life that you feel the need to constantly to talk about them. I’ll tell you how often.

Never.

Never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever in the Everests of never evers do you encounter these haters.

A hater is someone who is on a mission to see your life go wrong. They want nothing more than to see you fail in all of your endeavors. In extreme cases, these haters might even enjoy seeing you dead. Yes, dead. Now, if you have these type of people in your life then (more than likely) yo' ass did something to deserve it. (Take a second and think about this before you read on. DO IT!)

This is how you look when you talk about your haters


It takes a ton of effort to go out of your way to ensure that someone is failing at life. So much effort that said hater’s only focusing on you not making it. But maybe you think highly of yourself and like to feel that you are special enough to someone that they would do this for you. But what you’re most likely encountering is this person.

Someone who disagrees with you. Someone who does not support your goals and dreams. Someone who thinks you suck at what you do and therefore offers you no support. Someone who may in fact call you names and make fun of you and crack jokes to offend you. But this certain “someone” is not a hater. No they are just someone that you don’t need in your life. But a hater they are not.

There a lot of people, places, things and ideas that I do no support. I don’t wish for their demises as much as I don’t give a fuck about what their doing.

SO for all you music artists out there, I’m not a hater because I don’t support your music. Your music sucks, and you are a complete lame... Ask yourself, who's supporting that? The answer starts with "NOT" and ends with "ME".

And for all you ladies at the club, did you ever think that girl was over there talking about you because you and your friend are talking about her? Its called reciprocity, not hating. You attract the things you project. Ergo if you are talking shit about them bitches... Then, them bitches will be talking shit about yo' ass!

And for all the people who read this entry and still have the ignorant audacity to insist that there is some "League of Evil Haters" out there absolutely bent on seeing your life spent in total misery... Well, I hope that they find a way to succeed.

Because it's clear to see that what you really want is an excuse for yourself.

Did I touch a nerve with that one?




...


With yo' hatin' ass!

What's wrong with you people?

Seriously. What the fuck are you being so mean about? I've learned that the longer I've been on this earth, the less I sweat the small stuff. Besides, whether you believe it or not, there are always people doing worse than you. So, try and have a little consideration for someone other than yourself. Just try it, you'll thank me later.



So there you are, at a restaurant with your dreamboat or whoever and it seems that your food is taking forever to come out. You start getting frustrated that it's been almost a half hour since you ordered, your water glass is dryer than mummy scrotum, and EVERYONE around your table is toasting refilled wine glasses and gobbling down piping hot plates of decadent flavor. Now, I know what you want, you want to choke the shit outta that waiter/manager/person you're dating? but please, before you get to choking, stop... And instead don't, get to choking. 



Breathe. Collect yourself and think about what's really going on. Ok, so maybe the food and drink is not coming out as fast as you'd prefer this evening, no need for that to be the only thing you focus on. What you so easily forgot is that you're there with another person. How about you do what you came there for? Have a good time. Tell a joke. Share a story. Reminisce on good times. Do anything else, just do not waste your time focusing on negative shit. 9 times in 10, that thing that's bothering you does not have you at the forefront of its current existence. So why should you? Anyway, all I'm saying is if you focus on things that make you happy, things that make you happy will find their way around you.  And if you spend the majority of your time drowning yourself in negativity, don't act all surprised when you find out it's killing you.




It's easy to dance like this when your nipples are out


Also, yes I know this was an escape from the usual stuff I write about but hey, this is what came out when I started writing. So please, Dopefiends, just try and avoid being a dick your whole life. Just try it, see how it feels, and if it doesn't fit you can always take it back and get back to standard dickery. Well, that's all I got for now yall.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Well... It Did Start Off Like A Regular Blog Post


This morning, as I held the door for the person leaving McDonald's behind me (Why? Because I'm not a douchebag is why. Seriously, don't be a dick, hold the door for the person behind you... It makes the world a better place), I noticed how ashy my hands were. Well, not really my whole hand, just the web of skin between my thumb and forefinger and the one between my ring and pinky finger. And it made me think of THIS SONG because this is the DEFINITION of "not pimpin". And I know what you're probably saying...

So what? You're saying you didn't know you were walking around looking like the second coming of Ashy Larry? Yea, right! I bet your ashy ass looks like that all of the days.





Well, to that I say three things. First, what the hell is "All of the days?" Who talks like that?

Second, since when did my italic interrogator become such an a-hole? Jeez... That was borderline mean. And cmon son! Ashy Larry? I was not that bad... not completely anyway.

And third, I did NOT know that! Thus the whole writing about it now in dismay thing. It was shocking. Ok, maybe shocking is a little bit of overstatement, but it was definitely a little eyebrow-raising... I'm talking half-raised eyebrows here, at the least. I mean I put lotion on those two areas in copious amounts specifically to avoid such an ashy blunder, and yet... This still happens to me ALL the time. What. The. Fuck. 

And it's not like I missed my hands. They're practically the only thing I put lotion ON. It goes something like *squirt squirt* lotion hands up to elbows then face, and then I'm done. And to any ladies that might happen across this post, the answer is yes. That is fucking it. I have no idea how (or why)you guys use more lotion than that. And yet here I am walking into work with ashy ass knuckles.

I don't know what all this surprise is about, I'm not really a person you know. You write everything I say.

See that's what I'm talking about there you go again flapping your smart ass mouth.

Whatever man, all I know is you just spent an entire post talking about your stupid ashy ring fingers... This blog is ridiculous.

You're ridiculous!

*Sigh* 

Says the man having an argument with the imaginary friend he made up a few paragraphs ago?

Wait, did you just sigh? You do not sigh. I sigh... Me. And there will be no sighing from you... Got that? And we are not friends. 

Fine by me. 

*Judgmental exhale* 


...


I hate you.





Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Things I'm Not Good At... Vol. 1


I am not a shopper.

I say that because although I've engaged in shop-ping on many, many occasions... I have never done it in a smart way. And when I say never, I mean for it to have an "ever" right after it. I have very limited use for sales or limited time offers, seeing as I hardly ever utilize them. My shopping methods are so much more than unsophisticated, in fact, they're practically prehistoric.

This is something like what a trip to the mall feels like for me:


*Starts to walk in the store cautiously*

"Hi, Mr. Et Cetera! Thank you for visiting our store today. Looking for anything in particular?"




"Uhhh... Me like... sweaters?"



And that's when it happens, the sales reps somehow sense that I'm a lonely confused shopper (I have no idea how), and swoop in for the kill. Before I know it, I'm walking around with an embarrassing pile of argyle socks, basketball shorts, and neckties... Which is crazy, because I swear I was at Best Buy.


That's why I like to go to the store with a specific item in mind. That my friends, is when the joy comes in. That is how I have successful shopping adventures. My last one went something like this...

What do I need? An extension cord? Awesome. I know what I want, and I know where to get it. As I fly down the aisles - I imagine the soundtrack to the "Sound of Music" playing while I do Allen Iverson crossovers on sales reps, shooting majestic middle fingers at them as I glide by in slow motion whispering a most triumphant, "Fuuuuuuuuuck youuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!!"

Glorious.

Before I know it, I'm swiping my debit card, heading home, opening my front door, plugging in my new extension cord, and turning on my TV...

And turning on my TV...

Turning on my...

GOT DAMNIT!!!





ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGG!!!



*Deep depressing sigh of inner sadness*







I forgot to get batteries.






Fucking Best Buy.