Cuttin up early...

Man, I have a lot of work. But thanks to my attitude which is in full swing thanks to three infamous letters, I ain't doin' shit. I'm sitting right here, in pain, waiting for the sucka that wants to meet his (or her) demise from messing with me right now. Any takers???? Didn't think so. Anyways, y'all left me some good advice on my last post. So I decided to do an experiment... I let him take me & the Imperial Stang to the car wash. I hate the damn car wash. I usually do it myself, because I don't like to haggle over the fact I don't want to pay extra for a "wax" job that I have no evidence of seeing. If the "wonder wax" is spraying out from the same overhead thingie that the water comes out of... and it LOOKS LIKE WATER... I'm not paying for that shit. Well, I always have to fight the car wash dudes. I look small, dumb, and scared to them and they force me to come outta the bag on they ass. So me and ol' boy took a journey to the car wash. I let him drive. I could tell he was shook, but he did well. Had a murder death grip on the wheel though, I wanted to laugh so bad. Nothing like his own relaxed self. I almost felt bad. But we made it in one piece. I'd already briefed him for the impending fight, but none took place. They took one look at him and was like, "Well, what'll it be for you today?" They recognized me, but didn't say nothing about no damn "Wonder Wax". He was all proud of himself, because he paid and checked the car, made them fix what they hadn't done before, etc. I was ultra pleased. We went to the fabulous Denny's to celebrate (because my greedy crampin ass wanted a for real root beer float) and then it happpened. His homies called (on some bullshit, as usual). I could tell he didn't want to say he was with me, but someone saw us drive off in my car so that was useless. I could hear them through the phone. But I didn't trip. I just sat there and waited for him to hang up. I just looked at him and said, "you okay?" He said, "yeah baby." He didn't sound convinced, but I didn't push him. I feel bad because I want to stand on the corner and cuss all them bastards out, because they have no women, no lives, no money, ain't got shit in general. But this particular fight ain't mine, even though I'd have no problems handling this shit once and for all. But this is some "Man" stuff. And I have to let him be a man. He has to make them mind their own business, whatever little, wack ass, business they have. I can't do it for him. Its like they let the damn air outta his balloon. I watched his face change and he put his head in his hands. I don't understand how they do that, but then when that's been his fam for 23 years, then there really isn't a question of how or why. Just when. Misery loves company, and them niggas are lonely. So basically, that was a draw round. The Fam-Mafia tried to erupt at someone (him) driving the Stang, but it comes down to who pays the note and the insurance. That person is me. Queenie: 3.5 Fam-Mafia: 0.5 Well I gotta get to work, and so do you. However, who the hell wants to work? Didn't think so. Today's mandate, sip on some syrup in honor of Her Imperial Majesty's lingering illness. Get good and to' up at the workplace, because thats the only thing I can do today. Promethazine and Midol, baby. That's what I'm offa today. Good shit, too. But if you don't have none, I suppose the Tussin will do. That is all. Govern yourselves accordingly.