I think it’s about time I start cutting some niggas off. It seems that most of the people I associate with don’t really give a flying fuck about me and only care about the piece of meat dangling between my thighs. These are the same muh fuckas that if I ask to borrow $20 or need help moving a couch, they disappear for 3 days but if I need drain my nuts they’re literally at my door in 10 minutes. I don’t need a 200 pound dick warmer, I don’t need this shit and I dont need you.

And with that being said I’m going to take a break and spend sometime offline and live my life. I’m feeling too connected and yet so alone so If you need me use the contact form (I’m turning off my instant messengers) and see you next Tuesday.

Courtesy of Spell With Flickr

Know what? I’ve been on edge lately. I swear I’m this fucking close (as if you can see me pinch my fingers together) from cussing everyone in a 25 mile radius. But that could be 2.5 cubic gallons of coffee slushing around in my gut. This plant doesn’t believe in decaffinated and I need hot coffee to stay warm in the cold ass office. But I digress. Been letting the snide ass comments from the trained monkeys get to me.

The trained monkeys is what I’ll be referring to the ghetto ass shop floor operators who think that a union means job security. Most of them hail from Gary Indiana, and think since you’re black and they’re black, bullshitting in front of you is cool. Fucking porch monkeys. See if they want to fuck around that’s on them but if you know I’m coming out to the line to troubleshoot God knows what, don’t get no fucking attitude because I said “Watch out” to someone not “Excuse me.” I could’ve really showed my nuts and said “Nigga, move” but I think thats the coffee talking again. Don’t think I’m bitching and saying that I’m better then them even though as I said before, my interview didn’t involve pissing in a cup. Back in school, my engineering buddies use to tell me their interning stories and how the Gary niggas will try and test you and that’s what they’re trying to do here. Let me just say that I don’t have time for this. These monkeys don’t want me to show my nuts, because my nuts will be on their chins and my dick in their mouths. TGIF like a muh fucka…

That was probably the most racist and unexpected things I’ve heard come out of a female’s mouth, well there is that episode of Taxi Cab Confessions where some white girl said: “I was raised racist, I don’t like black men, but I’d fuck the hell out of LL Cool J…” But I digress. Ol’ girl at my job had said this to me after describing her weekend trip to Washington D.C., saying that the east coast was nice and that there weren’t a lot of Mexicans. I’m using to being around a bunch of Puerto Ricans and Dominicans becuase that’s really all there is in Philly (and Jews), so I never paid attention to it. Lopez to Rodriguez - it’s all the same shit to me.

So yesterday I’m out doing my laundry at Bubbleland (reference here & here) and its after 12:30 am so washing is 40% off. This was packed like E3 and full of ugly folks and Mexicans. It seems that I can never go to Bubbleland and not have a problem. First the every washer was taken. The idea of every washer being used is so frustrating since there suppose to be over 75 washing machines, but I swear that at least 40 of them were broken. I had to wait 45 minutes to start my first load of clothes. And as soon as I load my draws in the the machine this 400 pound white chick who had the audacity to wear a t-shirt that said “Little Women” T-rexed her ass over to me and asked if I’m done using the washer. I wish my SK2 camera wasn’t a piece of shit because I would have taken a picture for proof.

After I get my things in a washer, I sit back to find something to watch on one of the many televisons. That’s when ol’ girl’s statement hit me because there were maybe 6 or 8 TVs, one was a closed-circuit camera monitor of the kid’s area, everything else was Telemundo and Univision and both stations had some kinda dedicated program for Pope JP2. I think I need to start taking my clothes over to my old house to wash them.

a.k.a. 20 year old obscure comic book reference permanently drawn on my arm. I can cross off # 60

**Update** Changed the reference link so there’s a better explaination of the Star Brand