Chaos Reigns

What up Africans? I'm finally doing it, I'm moving to a "central" location between Satan's Anus and The D so I can live with my wife. For those of y'all that didn't know, moving sucks dick, and not in that pleasant way that I enjoy so very much.

I just got back from Puerto Rico, and for the record, the chicks are overrated (they try TOO hard), the food is underrated, and you can make a killing if you open a store that solely sells stacked heels. Incidentally, that portion of Africanness that inhabits the Puerto Rican genetic makeup seems to rule as far as timeliness and general attitude. Also, for the first time in my life, I got sunburned, so that's something. Anyway, we went for our first anniversary. It was a good trip to take and a precursor to the bigger trips we're planning, like to the Mediterranean, which I just realized as I wrote it, looks like it means "Middle Ground", which is where she and I are moving to in Michigan.

This post came full circle. Imagine that.

Peace,
KZ

Notes From Pervertland

I don't know if this is a fleeting fascination or what, but I've just had a series of weird thoughts. I'm intrigued by juxtaposition of status as it relates to death. Like, I'm fascinated by the chairperson of the Society for Sexual Supression and Moral Indignation dying of because of faulty wiring on a vibrator her longtime lesbian lover was using on her. Or otherwise, a super strung out heroin addict and all around creep getting hit by a bus while saving a child from getting run over. I been thinking about this a lot lately, and I was thinking, if you're not suicidal or have a lingering illness, it's pretty hard to choose how you die. So you gotta be on your toes. Like being extra careful when you do the skeevy shit you do. Or if you're skeevy all the time, you might wanna do dangerous shit in service of other people every so often, and maybe that's how you're remembered.

These are the things I think about when I'm on my couch in my underwear alone, masturbating with Fleshy.

KZ

P.S. I checked out of FB for awhile. Deactivated my account, so if you're looking for me I'm here. Honestly, I now remember the reason why I stopped fuckin' with people I went to high school with.

The American Rodeo

You know there are people out there who are getting rich off of nostalgia and societal vanity? Do you know that if you used to be something or someone, or if you have the good fortune of having won the genetic aesthetic lottery, you could be rich beyond your wildest dreams? Well it's true! Welcome to the American Rodeo, where dick-riding is a sport!

You remember that last Morris Chestnut movie you went to? It wasn't very good was it? Why did you go? Do you remember? Was it because Morris is the next James Earl Jones, with a smooth speaking voice and the ability to manufacture pathos with his line readings? Or did he keep his shirt off for most of the movie? Congratulations, you just put money in an African's pocket for nothing.

Hey, remember that strip club you went to last night? Yeah, that broad had a beautiful ass. You musta blew a couple hun on that chick. Went home with a hard dick, didn't you? You know what she went home with? A couple hundred of your dollars and another African. Congratulations, you coulda got a bullshit dance like that at home for free.

I'm at my wits end. Everybody thinks it's OK in 2009 to dick ride. That shit was verboten where I'm from, when I came up. Now, we do it en masse, every chance we get. I've been called a hater for calling it out, apparently I'm jealous because I'm not getting money or I'm not fine enough to get my dick ridden. OK, if that shit makes you feel comfortable, go with it. But I'm telling you I'm not for giving unearned kudos to anybody. Fuck 'em and fuck you too, groupie.

KZ