Home is best.

Man, I wished everyone lived near their job. If everyone went home for lunch, it would be less disgruntled co-workers. I know, because I am about as disgruntled as they come. But I went home for lunch today, and it has made me a better person. Well maybe not. But at least I'm not homicidal anymore. When I was coming up the block I saw Nisha swoop into the driveway. Then Junior pulled up right before I did, and he ran in the house super quick. Wondering what these negroes were doing, I sped up (I know, I'm not supposed to do that on a residential street. Whatever.) and parked. When I got in they had a little ice cream cake with six candles on it. I forgot it's been six years since I was shot with that 12 gauge. Today is my 6th birthday. My fam celebrates it as such, too. Just sans presents. I wasn't supposed to see my cake until I got home from work tonight. It was gonna be a surprise. They were mad that I came home (I never do that), but it was all good. I promised to wait until everyone came home from work to eat it. So we all ate some stew momma cooked last night and went back to our respective jobs. I get so caught up in being mad about stupid shit and at stupid people, sometimes I forget what counts. I love my fam. So what if ex-Baby is an asscrack, and I have no man (or more importantly what is unique to the man), or no digital camera. What matters is I'm here to be mad about this stupid stuff, therefore I shouldn't be mad. And that shit is fine with me. Lemme get back to work. I'm out.