hell's baritoner bells BITCH...
i hate to be this brutally honest and disspell any preconcieved notions or crumble any and all mantastically fab, trumped up fantasies about my life, BUT
i figure not enough people are paying attention ANYWAY, so why be shy?
for the 3 or 2 people that DO care enough to have any thoughts about me that special, don't read any further. do not. this may fuck off yer whole nite.
u may try to commit suicide in a bathtub in the wee hours, listening to ambrosia and gobbling ambien like they're fuckin white cheddar popcorn puffs.
i recently got shit-canned from a gig and banned from 73 percent of the strip... it happened innocently enough.
i was a bouncer at studio 54 and then tabu @ a fuckin raghole of a casino called mgm.
i started @ 54, u know, just making ends meet until this suuuper realistic ass dream of being recognized and rewarded for being an an artistic genius (which i fucking AM-- btw) takes off.
i then decided, this was the only shot i'd have 2 buy a house for my family>ie. my kids. i was foolish enough to talk on the shit, like i've done so many times prior in my life, with plans. next thing i know, i'm being toyed with by an arab like they toy with grenades and in a conspirital joust edged out of a brainless job that a four year old bully could do (a job i was doing without cause for termination btw)and by reasoning that is fullblown horse doodah... (the truth is one douchebag decided he didn't like me and had the juice to get rid of me)-- i'll explain the rest of it later... meantime, heed my words. never do this, to those that actually might take my advice or for some reason don't know this motto without my advice.
NEVER TALK ON YER PLANS. NEVER DISCUSS YER PERSONAL SHIT.
I DON'T CARE HOW EXCITED U ARE, HOW BORING OTHER PEOPLE ARE (that u feel like talkin on YOU cuz their shit is putting u into a comatose trance of dullness and lame), HOW MUCH U MAY BELIEVE THAT OTHERS WISH U WELL, OR EVEN IF U FEEL U HAVE TO MATCH ANOTHER'S SHIT, CUZ THEY TALK ON THEIR SHIT, FUCKING DON'T!
i repeatedly make this mistake.
i still haven't learned that nobody gives a fuck about anybody but themselves and maybe their spouse, kid or kids, and like a couple people, a dog named something clever and like-- a few family members;
there's no room for yer personal shit in a supervisor, co-worker, an aquaintence or a supposed 'friend's' self-centered heart; it comes off like bragging and people on the whole are haters. if they get the impression u are doing even somewhat well, that yer life is finally booger-rolling itself out of the pit of hell, even in the slightest way... they will subconciously allow their memories to jolt them back to the cup of coffee earlier that was lukewarm and not sweet enough, the 20 minutes of sleep lost, the girl they only porked once twelve years ago and wished it'd been twice... and they will picture a dagger thrusting thru your fucking eyeball full-throttle.
now, calm down. we have all been haters at one time; i don't care what u say. u say, 'no not me. i wish everybody well. i'm happy as butter-muddled fucksticks with my slice of the pie.' horseshit.
while an asshole like me or maybe u is tellin their personal shit just cuz its something on the brain or maybe we have no cap on our tongue and it's spill, or cuz there's a shortage of shit to talk about when u don't watch the news and instead know every word to the breakfast club or like blood in- blood out if yer gangster, the fact is... there is a hater somewhere in the mix that is resenting u as u speak while they knod yes and say go for it.
i will admit to being one from time to time; i have been down and out before. i have had not a pot 2 piss in. i've had so-called friends right next to me knowing the suffering i was enduring; how could they not?-- i'm the most annoyingly verbal sonovabitch you could ever meet; and while i howl from the pits of hell, they are like beaming, telling me how fantastic things are going for them.
example:
ME: man, i haven't gotten laid in a month., it seems like chicks don't even dig me anymore; i'm walkin around with a boner, staring bitches down like i want to fuck and eat em like a cupcake; they pay no attention 2 me and its like i feel like fucking dying. plus, i am broke and completely out of weed. no weed, no money, no pussy, i feel like the hunchback of notredame... i've been whackin it so much lately, i'm afraid my penis will either suck itself back into my body one day out of sheer terror or fall off and hide in a bush... that would suck if i had to like, spend a day crawling thru the bushes searching for my penis... or like...
dude... are u even listening to me? i'm miserable here and yer like staring off smiling...u alright?
'FRIEND CHARACTER': HUH? what? me? oh, my bad dude. i hear u. thats fucked. life is a bitch huh? sorry, i was daydreaming a bit. thinking bout this chick i met tonight at the grocery store. unbelieveabley gorgeous, u know?--u wouldn't believe it. like jessica alba and like kim cardashian but not retarded u know?-- i mean wow. --so anyway. i dont want to cut u off, but like...wooh. we are on line @ smith's. i say hi. she asks if i would mind walking her to her car. i'm like maybe. if u buy all these fuckin groceries maybe BITCH. boom. she buys my groceries. i'm like cool. no biggie. happens at least once a week.
but then, she's following me to my car u know while i'm texting a couple other chicks i nailed in a threesome last night, and she's all, do u mind hopping into my car fer a sec? i have about a hun's-worth of chronic and i'd like 2 give it to u for letting me buy yer groceries. so i'm all, yeah i guess. i mean, it was kinda weird but like i've had crazier shit happen. like last week some dude grabs my hand and puts his 18 year old daughters hand in it and goes i'm going to have to ask u to fuck her sir and when yer done please come see me and get a few huns for yer trouble. that was fuckin weird, but cool, u know.
so anyway, i get in her car and boom. she goes down on me. (he pauses)
(i have no pokerface, so i'm pretty sure my grimace haas been growing throughout this story like as if someone was squeezing my balls lightly at first then harder and stronger as they went)
(he looks bewildered, but momentarily) I KNOW, RIGHT?!!!!
so i fuckin stop her. woah nelly!
u can't just go down on me without asking first woman, i say. and ps., where's the fuckin weed u promised me?
she apologizes, hands me the baggie and asks if its cool to blow me fer a little while. i say maybe. if u let me videotape it and then sign a handwritten release so i can sell it online. she's like cool. i always wanted to be in movies. and so it goes. i have the whole thing on my phone. but anyway, thats just what happened a little while ago. i'm sure u have bigger better shit goin on. i'm gonna go smoke some of this weed right quick. plus, i gotta upload the footage of me and jessica cardash on to my hard drive... tsk. all work and no play right?... wow, this weed is the bizniz, man... it smells like supergirl's vagina... (he pulls out the greenest lime weed u have ever seen and cracks the bag just long enough for me 2 see and smell it, then starts slowly walking off, still fondling the open baggie)
have a great night, homeboy... don't get into any trouble...heheheh...
i had another friend who, knowing damn well i have broken my neck for years at the arts and haven't gotten a break, would call me just to tell me about all the big shit he was doing in the biz. or just to hear his problems. if i began to talk on my shit, he would lose interest and immediately have to go.
FRIEND: hey, how's it going?
ME: uhh... (knowing he has only called 2 tell me about his own score, but he's pacing himself and feigning interest in my shit... do i answer truthfully or just say ok, so he can get to his gloating? i can hear the anxious tick of a cat with a hard on for showing me up. kicking me while i'm down. so i choose the honest route) ahh.... my girl's retarded... my kids are spoiled and rotten. i'm probably a horrible parent and somebody should do something. i want to kill myself. my career is going nowhere. my mom's a monster. my father's a punkbitch. i hate everyone i've ever known for breathing easy... ummm...
FRIEND: huh?oh shit. thats too bad. EY, guess who just got all of michael jackson's money and is codirecting a film with martin scorcese, acting alongside robert deniro, al pacino, jack nicholson and dustin hoffman, rewriting roots and doing an album with dre, 50 eminem, the game, krs1, paul simon and shabba ranks? guess who just unearthed the missing beatles song and has a video of himself dirt-dicking kim cardashian and jessica alba on the same night in two different major hotels owned by mgm right in las vegas where u live?
are you ready, dog? are u ready to shit yer pants at how good my life is going? ask me where i am right now. no, don't ask. hold on. the stewardess on this g5 is asking me if i want some dom perignon. excuse me a moment, won't u? listen, mama, why would i want to get shit-faced before i even get to cannes? i have to pace myself. anyway, nox.. u there? i will just say i'm up up and away like a bird and i'm on my way to a party with every celebrity and talented person u know of... dude, wait til u see the pics. u are going to attempt to leave some of the best comments! hahah, are u there?
ME: uhhh... michael jackson huh? u know, michael jackson's last song was a remake of america's horse with no name? but with different lyrics...i actually did a song two years ago that was a remake of the horse with no name cut w different lyrics... hasn't been done in the 30 some odd years since the song's been around, then i do it and beat the king of pop to the punch by two years... and the funny thing is...
FRIEND: (sounding like the wind was just knocked out of his wings tshirt pin; dull, drab) yeah. yeah? yeah. wow. neat. cool. listen, i gotta go, bro; super busy up here. (doesn't even attempt to block phone and whisper to stewardess) yeah, on second approach, baby, i think i will have some of that yummy dom... (to me) i gotta roll, bro.. stay golden... (then to the stewardess and passengers, whoever they may be) --did u hear me say 'on second approach'?-- that's airplane humor.. i just came out with that freestyle.. (and i hear two or three exceptionally feminine male voices agreeing with him, saying 'brilliant' and 'yes yes, so innovative' and the phone cuts out)
anytime u hear some homosexuals agreeing so vehemently with a straight guy who is NOT matthew maconoughey-esque looking, u know yer dealing with the industry and it's better levels of success... as fer myself,
i suffer like a person being chained to a fireball most of any given day for the mistakes i've made in the idustry and the boat i've missed, the heartache careerwise, the productivity which has left me well bitten (these past 5 years i've had song ideas stolen from pitbull, nas, among others; i've had universal claim they own a song but never got the deal or paid, etc etc--not to mention, being treated like a lesser by medicocres, being talked to death by people nationwide telling me all they're going to do for me and never delivering etc etc) and i have cats i've known the better part of 20 years throwing their good fortune in my face and not thinking to include me in any way other than to grace me with the telling of the tale or a sniff on the fingers which have tippy tapped by divine vaginal glory.
so, yeah, a bit of sour hateration creeps in.
yer working a shit ass job (but with decent pay i will state here) u are encouraged to move to the smaller club (so u can get that house for yer family and those fulltime benefits for yer family... the job no one else wanted), u oblige and abide by the hunger and desperation only a father who has yet to provide the proper lifestyle his children deserve knows, and then in a series of condescending and nitpicking, downright bullying and favoritism, u are pushed out...
just in time for yer purchasing of the house to fall thru... just in time for an ailing mother and the mother of yer kids to lose all faith in u and a blowout fight which sends u 2 jail, traumatizes yer young children, and tears apart your family... just in time to lead to a new depression the depths of which are so low u can't breath without an oxygen mask...
and 2 recall thanking these assholes that fired u, cuz u were overwhelmed with being harrassed and dicked with by the these other cats to the point u were ready to throw fisties about... man, what a fool... would u thank someone who just kung fu- raped your asshole clean? maybe. maybe if yer a sick self-loathing fuck... (like mEEEEE...)
then one day, after no other casino seems to be hiring u (chances are because u have a tarnish on yer name and because mgm/mirage owns like the whole strip almost) u start losing yer shit again... (from yer first attempt to dive into this strip life to provide like a righteous cat for yer fam and it backfires cuz u don't play the game right n suck an arabic cock) so, u bow down finally and u try to get unemployment loot, like others u know...and they tell u sorry, it says here u were shitcanned for fuckin shit up.
it all happened just like that too.
where's the justice for a cat like this?
i haven't figured out the right way yet. i find rejection in most connections i make and though i curse the world and think i'm so good, how is it i am plagued by such bad? i realize, it's me... ME, a fuckin hot buttermilk mess.
so i get angry as shit when the phone rings one day. it always pisses me off and but good when i'm interupted while viciously masturbating. i kid. that was some shit from a book i'm writing. i won't post anymore cuz i know it would be bitten. its why i havent posted shit lately. not cuz im masturbating... and i wasn't saying i kid about masturbating btw. i kid about the lines prior. ofcourse i jerk off... and when i do, i think of brooke shields' speech at michael jackson's televised funeral ceremony. right when she breaks into tears and stammers her scripted bs, i cum like a racehorse fucking a rich white girls' mouth on the net.
this is falling apart fast. the blog, i mean. the laptop is running out of battery. good luck job hunting to those hunting for job. and i do mean job. its no typo. if u CAN wrangle more than one, u are one serious sonovabitch. makes me wish i had a dad.
coulda taught me the stabililty of character necessary to handle casino politics in this day and age.
oh well.
i'm going to stick my penis is some milk and think of your mom... til next time... hope at least some of this was clever and u know, funny,,, enlightening... low battery.... vagina... milk...weed.. fuck u.
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