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Alcohol is a beautiful thing. I know ya’ll drunks have probably been influenced by those damned after-school specials that say alcohol is bad….mmmkay. But take it from a nigga that knows his liquor, the shyt is good. Do you know how charming I am after a few drinks?? Don’t you realize that I’m the life of the party when I’m drunk?? When I drink beer, green-eyed white women in bikinis bring me nachos and flat screen TVs! People like me drunk! I’m way cool! And I would never say “way cool” drunk…. ever. Sure, alcohol can put you in more bad situations than two fat muhfukkas with a gallon of KY, but you don’t see no 12 step programs about that shyt do ya?? Fat muhfukkas lubin up genitals, belly rolls, and cheeseburgers at will and nobody says a damn word — but a brutha has a few beers and his liver finna go on strike?!?! Nah dude… not likely. It’s all in how you use the shyt. If you drink responsibly, then alcohol can be enjoyed by each and every one of us! Admittedly, I’ve put a hurtin on my share of Tequila bottles. Me to Tequila is like Bugs Bunny to Elmer Fudd — I gets my abuse on. Kaviar… dumb as hell, yet in an SAT fashion…. where else can you get such entertainment?? I mean, it was abuse of Tequila that led me to fryin’ bacon butt-naked at 3 in the morning. By the way, pork grease is hot. And it pops, too. And this is how the telephone and alcohol are quite similar. Now, I know you’re trying to figure out the correlation between poppin pork ‘pon da penis and the telephone and alcohol. Well, the grease has nothin’ to do with it… simply a by-product of my mind imitating a cheap weave… more than one track. But the telephone and alcohol are quite similar in certain respects, the main one being if the shyt is abused it can be bad…. very bad mmmmkay? And if the two are combined, it can lead to some very embarrasing, yet honest, moments courtesy of the drunk dial. However, that’s not what I’m here to talk about… I want to talk about abuse. Phone abuse. I’m not talking about beating up phones, though I’ve certainly thrust a phone or two up against a wall. I’m talking about abusing the purpose of the phone. There are many ways to do this: a) Leavin your cell phone ringer on at church, meetings, funerals, etc. You need to Andre 3000 that shit — Vibrate. Vibrate Hiiiiggghhhherrr! b) Callin someone 5500.334.2 times a day for no fuggin reason. “I just wanted to say ‘Hey’” *sigh* Oh bytch please! Tell that Hey shit to Mr. Ed…. stop ringin my damn phone! Plus, you are not allowed to call more than twice…. thanks. c) Callin someone and breathin on the damn phone like you’re Norman Bates havin an asthma attack. Say what the fugg you gotta say, and please hang the hell up. People need no more 1.75 minutes to say what the hell they gotta say…. do the math — the shit computes. ****disclaimer**** the above does not apply to me because I am long winded and astute vocabulary therefore i am equipped to to provide hours upon hours of intellectual oral.....errrr...aural stimulation....(aural = the ears fool!) d) Callin somebody at 2 am on a Wednesday night on some silly shit like, “Whatcha doin??” Sleepin, nigga. Sleepin. Calling at odd hours is the worst abuse of phone ever… …unless…. … there’s an emergency… but that is totally acceptable. Or perhaps time change is a factor and it’s and honest mistake… Lawd knows I’ve had my share of that shyt after my latest move. But the most excusable reason for odd hour phone calls is…. … ass. Not GETTING ass but JUST GOT some ass. I’m not talking about booty calls here folks… even those have cut-off times. If your ass wasn’t horny enough to call before midnight, then you can wait until the roosters wake the fukk up before callin. Your coochie ain’t gonna dehydrate before sunrise and my dizzle will still operate in the morning… perhaps more efficiently even. Booty calls at 3 am are just rude… and inconsiderate of my dyck’s beauty sleep — the shyt didn’t get this lovely by being awaken during its one-eyed REM sleep! No, I’m talking about the phone call that every man has probably made at one point in his life. I was completely unware as to the exsistence of this phone call until 1996. One summer morning at about 4 am, the phone in my one bedroom apartment in Metarie, LA rings. I jumped up to answer the phone because I thought it may be some sort of emergency, naturally. When I saw the caller ID, it was my fraternity brother… I wondered if his car had died on him again and needed a lift. Oh how wrong I was… Me: *yawn* Helluh? Friend: DAWG!! Wake up! Me: *sigh* yeah… what’s the matter? *yawn* Friend: I got it man…. I got it! Me: C’mon man, no guessin games… whatchu want? Friend: ‘Memba ol’ girl from New York? The one with the huge ass? Me: Yeah, yeah… the one you’ve been sweatin for a while. Friend: Dude… she is butt-nekkid in the bedroom right.now. I mauled that ass. I finally hit, yo…. finally man. It was a remarkable perfomance… you woulda been proud of your boy! Now, the sheer excitement is his voice chased my fatigue right out my room. In that moment, I completely forgot what time it was and listened intently to him recount the events of the evening. Was it still 4 am? Was I sleepy just seconds ago? That seemed like a distant memory. And all was forgiven for interrupting my slumber. “Forgiven? He broke a sacred phone rule and all is excused just because he got some ass??” NO! Not at all! Well, not really. Maybe a little. Ok Ok Ok!!...... Hellz yeah all is excused!!....... It was new ass!! NEW.ASS!! And not just random strange new ass… but new ass that he had been after for quite a while!! Don’t look at me like that!......What?!?!.......... What I do?!?!? It’s not like I did it! It’s not like I was the one ringing a phone off the hook at all times of night to inform my boy that I got some new ass!! I would never do such a thing.....It’s silly!....Stupid!.....Childish!.....Immature! “Me doth think the Brutha protest too much.” You doth right. You gahdamn right I’ve made that call!! I made it once before in my life…. 1997. I was interested in this girl who was everything I thought I wanted at that time in my life. She was fun… fine as all getout… “Get out!” Yes nigga… as if “all” got.dafukk.out. She was so fine that when I brought her home to meet my family — the only chick I ever brought home from college — even my daddy said, “Damn…. she IS fine.” After about 6 months of courting her — oh yes…. this froggy went a courtin — she asked me if she could stay the night. *singing* Turn off the lights…. and light a candle….. I said TURN’EM OFF! I went Teddy P all on that ass that night…. I worked so hard I even rolled out of bed in a wheelchair a la Teddy! And I rolled my ass right to the phone…. …. and while she slept…. …. I placed a phone call in the forbidden hours…. … and the tired voice that answered the phone suddenly perked up when he heard: “My brutha…. it is done.”
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