2U4U

I always imagine that when I meet women in bars the interaction will go like this:

And then I realize that my swag is at -1,000,000,000,000. R.I.P. J-Dilla and Baatin.

It's the mothafuckin Wild Wild West in this bitch.

So check it,

This past weekend something happened and serves as the impetus to get this bloggy blog moving. I decided to go check out this haunted house at the Foothills Mall inside of what used to be a Linen's-n-Things. Quick shout out to the recession for creating such an abandoned building- I digress. So anywho, long story short, I took a tall can straight to the dome, got scurred, and then reclaimed my masculinity throwing axes. There was a hella foine lady in our group so I had to represent. Hella 6th grade right? And while I have a burgeoning crush on her, no I did not throw the axes at her face.

Ok but the real shizz that went down was at the Circle K by my house en route to said Haunted House. Riding with a friend who is highly skeptical about EVERYTHING, we pull into the station so I can get my fade and some Evian no homo. Dude stays in the car, "you aren't getting out?" I say to him. "Fuck no, I ain't trying to get shot in the back of the head! I know someone that died outside of a Circle K," he replies. Shaking my head I leave the car and walk in the gas station.

The man behind me had barely caught the door before it completely closed, and walked in a few paces behind me. He was wearing a fleece pullover, cargo pants, and military boots. Mind you it was like 80 degrees out so I was a tad suspect. In my complete observation of the strange fellow, I notice on his hip is a holstered handgun. I turn to my sister's boyfriend and say "Cool costume, that dude has a airsoft gun strapped to his hip, but I wonder what the costume is?"

"Matt that's not an airsoft gun, that's a 9mm. Lol... airsoft gun." He says.

Turns out homeskillet was in fact strapped- like Weezy strapped. The scary thing is he looked straight off the American History X set, and even more horrifying- he drove a PT Cruiser. I got back in the car and told holmes to peace the fuck outta that Circle K.

Lesson Learned: You can carry toast in public in AZ, and probably in like 45 other states in the country. I miss my home. It's the mothafuckin Wild Wild West in this bitch.

Theme music: Kool Moe Dee- Wild Wild West

Rebirth of Slick...

Cues needle on record...

Since this is my first post on my blog that I've owned for almost two years now, I would like to say hello to the internets and to all the folks that might be reading this (if you subscribe in the future say word)

A California kid recently transplanted to Tucson, AZ, I've learned that I do some weird shit and make offensive and awkward comments at the most inappropriate times. I smoke. I drink. I quote ignorant rap music like it's scripture. My life is fucked up, or at least it feels that way. And lastly, I pick my nose and eat them boogers. Haha, kidding... but seriously. Hello? Still there?

Think of this journal as Rev Run's "God is love" words of advice, but luckily I'm not an old naked bald guy in a bubble bath. I'm actually a 26-year old naked bald guy in a coffee shop. Syke, I'm not bald.