Hater Tuesday

First and foremost you can all fuck right off if you don’t like my posts today because it’s my birthday and I’ll do what I goddamnned please. I mean not that I don’t normally do whatever the fuck I want on Tuesdays, but today is like Super Hater Tuesday. Here we go -

Working too much: I’ve been working like a damn dog as of late. You know what fuck that analogy, I know a lot of dogs and most of them are lazy pieces of shit who do nothing but sniff crotches and/or lick themselves. They don’t work for shit. I’ve been working harder than a single mom with 3 kids and no car. Long ass days - early in the office, late out the office. My social life is suffering and even worse my hating life is suffering. Sure I’m crankier than ever, just ask anyone who’s been in my immediate reach the last month or so. I’ve heard “you need a massage” more times than I can count. Even my mom is like “Hello…are you out there?” and “Honey you are working too much” But whatever with my mom and my friends, what I am most upset about is my lack of time to follow things that are really important to me like Tara Reid walking a runway show at fashion week looking like someone yanked her by the hair out of the ladies room (sniff sniff) and hurled her onto the runway with no explaination or motivation beyond “There’s cocktails down there” and yet another cameo by Lindsay Lohans disgusting hairless cunt. Or worse the terrible loss experienced by one of my other favorites Anna Nicole. Anna Nicole’s son dies and I’m clueless until I tune into E! late night while I’m eating cereal and calling it dinner. I’m like a week late on all of these fucking key events. That’s fucking terrible. I’m pissed.

Things Are Tough All Over: There is some serious lack of decent weed going on right now. Everyone I know is in tough times, even the most reliable of connects is on some “it’s all bad right now” type shit. It’s times like this I wish I had an official weed holder who’s sole responsibilty was to cop and carry my weed. That way all I need to do is look to my left and say some shit like “Yo dun, what’s really?” and then blammo, it’s like drank in my cup, blunt in my hand. But these days, I just be dealing with the dry spell. Cause I live by the RBL “don’t gimme no bammer weed, we don’t smoke that shit in the SFC” Some harvest some shit and send it my way already. Fuck. I work too much to be trippin’ on finding good weed.

Moving: Moving fucking sucks. I’ve been moving for the last month. Little by little shit has been moved from old house to the new house. I’ve been living out of a suitcase in a room with a bed and a TV and that’s it. I’m living like a goddamn run away. Moving sucks most when you live with other fools who are moving too. Shit gets all over the place and everything is in various states of packed, for example you can leave one the house one morning and you have shit like spoons and forks, then you come home later and all that is left are those butter knives that are all fucked from that one time you did hot knives of resin after watching too many episodes of the Trailer Park Boys. You’ve got a left over container of Chow Mein and no fucking fork to use so you end up using a big ass mixing spoon and the shit goes all bad. You stand there staring at the Chow Mein going “Fuck I really want to eat this” so you go all Ethiopian on that bitch. Then some one comes home and finds you two fingers deep into a tub of Chow Mein to remind you that there are some plastic forks left in the pantry from that BBQ that one time and you feel like an asshole.

Every Airport Besides Bob Hope Airport: Flying right now is a pain in the ass. I’m all for being safe but some shit is just retarded. No fucking water past the security check point? No lipgloss? No hand lotion? Come, fucking on. Some asshole can bring his laptop but I can’t bring fucking Carmex? Puh-lease. The only thing that’s been making flying cool lately is the fact that I get to fly into Burbank Airport aka Bob Hope Airport aka the best airport ever. I love that fucking airport. You get to walk on the tarmack, Southwest loads from both ends, there is never a line and it’s not even close to being the clusterfuck that LAX, JFK or SFO can be. I’m actually not even that pissed about going to LA anymore because I know it’s going to be painless. More airports should be like Bob Hope.

Bay Area NFL Teams: Come on boys. Let’s do this shit. Game faces on. Team play on. Coaches rally your fucking teams. Raiders you have the rowdiest fans ever and you can’t manage to get your collective shit together to win a fucking game? Really though…I’m serious. I’m totally ready to get rowdy and be all down for you because let’s face it Raiders are more gangster than the 49ers. But when you punk out week after week it’s hard to switch voer. Niners, remember when you were awesome? Let’s work on that okay? Get your shine back. Let’s do this shit. One measily win? Come the fuck on already. I’m about to be a Raider fan for real cause if Im going to support a losing team it’s got to be the Raiders…at least those mutherfuckers go dumb at games and they don’t kick you out of box seats for spilling beer on some rich white dude.

PLAYER OF THE WEEK:

The honors this week go to BOBBY FLAY. Only arrogant ass Bobby Flay would conceptualize a show in which he ambushes prize winning chefs with unique specialties to a food duel. He tricks them by making them think they are being featured for being an awesome home chefs and they dude is like “YO! I’M BOBBY FLAY, I’LL FUCKING COOK CIRCLES AROUND YOU - CHECK OUT MY FUCKING ASSISTANT CHEFS, MY SUBURBAN FULL OF PROFESSIONAL COOKING GEAR AND MY MAD YEARS OF EXPERIENCE” He just rolls out and sons people and acts all smug about it. Fuck Bobby Flay, his three sauces and mango addiction.

I missed last Tuesday but I posted twice the week before that so I don’t want to hear no bitching about shit. I’m still busy as fuck so you get Player of the Week only.

I’m a little pissed that I don’t have nice clothes like this broad here. I mean even at 7:45am she’s managed to pull herself together in a way I’d never be able to. Sitting across from her in my beat up Chucks, hoodie and jeans just made me feel ashamed. Look at her hair, her meticulously applied make-up, her amazing and fine fur coat and the boots. Let’s not forget the boots. Classic. Man. I wish I had this outfit. I can only hope that when I am her age I will be fortunate enough to look as good as she does and have enough pride to gussy myself up on the daily. Even if it is just for a ride on the 47 down to the old 850 Bryant.

You can tell by the death grip she has on her purse that it MUST be like some Balenciaga type shit. I can only imagine how hard it must be to ride the bus with an expensive bag like that, constantly worrying that someone is going to hijack your shit and leave you accessory-less. It’s got to be terrifying.

ok that’s all I got for now.

ps. my ankle still sorta hurts. fucking bone.

Automatic Wheezy, why you have to go and make a video and destroy my favorite song on your album. I really fucking liked this song a whole lot too. I played it over and over. I even made Thug E Fresh email it to me while I was on vacation in AZ earlier this year because it wasn’t on iTunes yet and I needed to fucking hear it. That’s how much I liked the song. And I hate everything (including more or less the entire Lil Weezy catalog up until The Shooter) so that means a lot coming from me. Then I get this. This terrible fucking video. Worst video ever.

I loved this song because it was so rich sounding. It bumps on a good system or a shitty system. It’s long as fuck and it builds little by little into this epic sounding multi-layered beat that made me forget all about the other garbage I’ve heard Lil Wayne rap on. By the time it gets to the part with all the guns and the street noise, Im singing to myself “Weezy F. Baby, please say the baby” with my hands in the air waiting to surrendah. But now, the shit is ruined forever. Every time I hear it, I am going to think about fruity-ass Robin Thicke in that damn leather vest with his molester stash gayin’ up my screen.

This shit don’t make no damn sense. The video could have been so fucking dope. It could have not even featured Weezy or Vesty. It could have been like well, more like Juve’s Get Yo Hustle On. Now that was a fucking video. But no instead it’s on some cute ass coincidence shit. Some ol’ parallel lives bullshit. Weak as fuck. I def suggest you just skip it, listen to the song instead and read the comments on you tube as bootychaser69 comments - “i like this song but i hate that faggot robin queerbag” and i give props to dirtysoufboi1 who cleared up my initial confusion about the video, you see i was too busy buggin’ on the vest and stash and underlying homo tone to notice the subtle set up at the beginning of the video. But thanks to this insightful explaination I now get it, “Nigga u stupid! this vid represents how they sound together. see, in the beginning they both put their woofers by the wall. lil wayne put in robin thicke’s cd and robin put in lil wayne’s the cater 2″ — yeah man I get it now “they put their woofers by the wall” as a means to be together…nothing gay about that at all. Not a thing.

If you do watch it make sure you watch one of these videos immediately after to get your hood cred back.

Goddamn It I still want a “Drank University” letterman jacket. Gyeaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Mustard and Mayonaaaaaaaaaaise

I’m pervin’, swervin’, fuckin’ wit tycoon shit…

–please some give Boots from The Coup an award for most consistent hair-do in the rap biz. Then let’s cut his afro and sell it on eBay

***props to text messages from Big I that inspired this rant.