f.r.i.d.a.y.!

Frustrated, frazzled, finally free, furloughed from the fuckin' firm, fled forthwith, fuckit...found fresh flora, fashioned funstix fit for flight, flicked flame, flared, fairly famished from the fumes...

Received restitution recently, rich with rubles rendered... Returned to my residence, rested, relaxed...ravenously relished a repast, refill on the rocks, rekindled rolled razorleaf, ready for revelry, roll out, rock on...

Intentions involving intoxication, inactivity, idleness...imaginably, incidental intimacy...instinctively, I

Don't do diligence during days deemed for ditching duty...duty disquiets, diminishes, devastates my dormancy...a duo of days designed for definite debauchery...damn, don't deny me drinks, I decry denoucers and detractors determined to demonize drinkers and defend dutch development...

Always around assorted allies to add an advantage, alienating the asinine, altered awareness assistance ablaze, AJ always advances an agenda associated with altitude and alcohol...absolutely! (Alternately, Absolut-ly... Alliteration arrest arbitrary asides? Absurd...) An ardor for an aura of awesomeness...ask

Y? Cuz it's Friday, biatches! Happy weekend umf!

Backseat Dating: An Interview

I actually was planning to type something else here in this space today, but then I got a unexpected IM from a friend I actually haven't talked to in a while, a semi-stranger that we call Blaze around here...so I figured I'd catch him while he was around and maybe get his opinion on a subject that kinda interests me, a concept I call "backseat dating".

umf: Yo what's good, man? Haven't seen you around these parts in a minute...

Blaze: Ain't shit...life on replay, still doin me...how that blog shit comin?

umf: You did that on purpose, you know I hate that word lol...Anyway, yeah it's cool, actually somebody asked about you.

B: Oh word?

umf: Yeah, I do this weekly reader response thing..."Formsprung"...it's kinda fun, random folk ask random questions, I answer honestly, everybody has a good time...it's like a online game of "Truth or Truth". Anyway, somebody asked why you ain't been around in a while.

B: Haaaaaa...tell her I love her too...she sexy? What she smellin like?

umf: Uh...not sure to both...I'm not even 100% it's a she, it's anonymous...

B: Oh aight...interesting...you wild for that shit lol. Well here I am. Wassup, whoever you is!

umf: Aight, shoutout time over lol...

B: Ay nigga I wasn't done!

umf: I didn't ask...moving on, as always I have a subject to get your...unique...input on. Backseat dating...what do you think about it?

B: I think if you try to cut my airtime like that again, ima get in that ass... Anyway, wtf is backseat dating?

umf: Yeah, I'll need you to keep out of my ass...let's just stay friends, you're not my type. And just like backseat driving is somebody that's not driving constantly evaluating the choices of the driver, backseat dating is when a friend of the opposite sex always has something negative to say about the people you choose to romatically associate with.

B: Oh, you a funny dude lol...you got it, I'll just take that one on the chin. But you really used all them big ass words to say backseat dating is when a bitch I know always throwin salt at my work?

umf: That's another way to say it I guess haha...yeah, but what's your opinion? I know you got one...

B: Matta fact I was just in a situation like this a little while back. I been talkin to this jawn Crystal for a minute now and Olivia, this other chick I'm cool with always got some shit to say about her..."you only like her cuz she got a ass, I don't see why you mess with that girl, you could do so much better than that", all that shit.

umf: That's backseat dating, all right...so how do you feel about that?

B: It's true that I wouldn't take Crystal home to momma, or even take the bitch to a nice restaurant...she know the rules, she comes over after dark and leaves by 3:30. But shit, I feel like if you ain't gonna help me out, help me find a good one it ain't none of ya bidness...you say I can do better, introduce me to some of your friends or something, damn!

umf: Hmm...

B: Yeah, yamean Olivia ain't bad lookin herself, if she think I'm makin that fucked up a decision she could damn sure solve that problem personally. And ftr, I don't just like Crystal for her ass...she give great top too lol

umf: Duly noted. She got a sister or a cousin? lol... Anyway, I think there is something to be said for the input of close friends on your romantic life. After all, these people actually choose to care about you so you would think they want the best for you, right? Not taking good advice from a good friend about who you're involved with could lead you into a bad situation.

B: Like what?

umf: Well, for one thing after you're done with the fling you could end up discovering that you were, in fact, dating a bitchy little troll like your friend was trying to tell you for months.

B: Personal experience, my dude?

umf: Hey, ain't this MY fuckin interview?

B: I don't want no trouble, you right lmao... But that's the thing...you said CLOSE friends. Olivia ain't what I'd call a close friend...when I met her I wanted her bad, but it just never turned into nothin.

umf: Ah, so that's the problem.

B: No, not a problem...nigga, I'm Blaze, I just ain't said the right thing yet, I pull bitches like leashes with my speeches, you musta forgot... She just need to stop bullshittin...I'll next Crystal with the quickness for her.

umf: Heh...well good luck with that, fly guy...all right, we're just about out of type for today, any final thoughts?

B: It's only a matter of time, Olivia...quit fightin that shit girl, you know you want it...I'd wear that ass out...

umf: I'm sure she'll be overjoyed to hear that if she ever somehow reads this...aight, I'm goin back to work now, go do whatever it is that you do when you're not being interviewed for umf.

B: Oh, have a life? You got it, Cap... Later.

umf: lol... Whatever mafucka...til next time, bruh...

(Delayed) Formsprung

I'm actually really upset I didn't get to post this yesterday...yall are crazy and I love it lol....in the words of Bill Simmons: "Yup, these are my readers"... Anyway, here it is...better late than never :)

Would you ever do stand-up or anything?
Yeah! I would love to...I like makin folk laugh (or trying to anyway) and I feel like that would be a serious rush...if I didn't pull a Beyonce and fall on stage or something...then I'd be on somebody else's opinionated message board lol

so ur a rapper now too?
lol no...sometimes my thoughts just rhyme...

how tall was the last person u kissed?
about 5'6"...which narrows it down to about 35% of the female species lol

where's my 'anthonism' post damnit?

oh damn, my fault...I did mean to get to that, I just kinda need some time to organize my thoughts on that, so stay tuned...thx for still caring tho...

U saw kick ass and I know ur 22 year old self still thinks about doing some crazy shit like that so whats ur hero name lol
how's "superstar" strike ya?

Dez Bryant?
Yezzir! Other 3 NFC East teams should stock up on DBs and keep plenty of ice on hand...there will be some severely burned secondaries this year...

r there ANY pics of u without the hat?
are there any pics of me without my nose?

where do you stand on paying for dates?
I'm fine with it...I don't mind paying to have a good time with a good woman (not even like that lol)...bitches, however, must pay their own way.

How big do you want UMF to get?
Bigger than a monster...lol

seriously, it's not about that...I just like writing randomness, and it kills time at work...don't get it twisted, if 1,000 ppl a day read it that would be great, but if all my friends get a nice little daily chuckle out of my bullshit, and maybe even take something away too, then I'm fine with that :)

Have you ever had sex with more than 1 woman at the same time?
There's a time and place for everything, and it's called college...

Who's your favorite actor/actress?
Denzel Washington...Malcolm X, Training Day, etc...the man's resume speaks for itself...

How many fitted hats do you have?
76 at last count....wanna make it 77?

Have you ever been punched in the throat?
no, praisedalawd...being tall with not much neck helps a lot...

How old were you when you lost your virginity?
16...but then I'm still 16 to this day, so who knows when that was :p

What's your favorite food?
Nachos yesssss! I like "mexican" food, cant you tell lolo

What do you do for a living?
This!

Do you want/have any kids?
Have? No...I'm just practicing makin them as of now...like a fire drill, but way better...

I do eventually want them tho...2, at least one boy so I can mold him in my image lol

What vegetable (as far as length and girth) most closely resembles your penis?
(once again, please be a female...)

I had to say "any question" ain't I hahaha...I did promise, so I'll play...

aight, I only know like 5 vegetables since I don't eat them all like that...it doesn't tail off at the end...can't be a carrot...I'm not blessed with a squash (lol), and I hope my dick never looks like broccoli...uh...we'll pretend a banana is a vegetable, k? (slight curve and all... :x )

Well, that was fun...football, nachos, and an egregious invasion on my privacy...another sucessful week of "Formsprung" lol...join us next Wednesday for the next installment, and if you wanna get in on the foolishness:

any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...

Step Up 3D (Don't Do Dat!)

I'm a big fan of the future and futuristic shit, but this whole 3D wave is going way too far. First there was "Avatar" and all that and that stuff was pretty cool...then things that were slightly less necessary in 3D like the Grammys, the Masters, and even live football games (an NFL team that will go unnamed once put a 3D feed of a football game on a giant video screen in the stadium while the actual game was in progress...in 3D, of course. Kinda redundant...) were also given the third dimension treatment. Now, here in twentyten, we have arrived at a tipping point...that's right, the first legit feature film (Hannah Montana and the Jonas cult get no love here, those movies will not be recognized by umf) to completely have NO legitimate use for the technology: Step Up 3D.

Ever since I first saw the poster for the movie, it boggled my mind just why a movie about urban battle dancing would need to be 3 dimensional. What could possibly be that compelling to need to pop out of the screen during a poplocking duel sequence? Will there be a dance scene with 3D rain? Is somebody gonna spin on their head and all of a sudden you see huge shelltoe Adidas soles alternately project from the screen and go from one side to the other as he rotates? Ooooh, exciting. I sure couldn't go and watch people dance in 3D in real life, that's for sure.

I mean, it's not like everybody was clamoring for "just one more Step Up, pleeeeeease!" It wasn't that great or memorable a movie to start with... for the most part just another interchangeable dance flick. So why make a 3D sequel to a marginal movie? Oh, right...to use the 3D gimmick as a new stick to beat the dead horse with. Do you realize what this means? It means everybody's gonna start doing it...before you know it, they'll be pumping out bullshit 3D sequels faster than Best Buy can throw them in the clearance bin..."American Pie 3D", "Madea goes 3D", "Saw: Third Dimension of Dismemberment" , "Bring it On One Mo'Ginn, this time in 3D"...is that what y'all want!? It has to stop somewhere...I say here. Please, my friends...don't support this madness...one-dimensional movies are no better in 3D.

PSA: We Want Pre-nup!

A huge neon flashing reminder of just how careful one has to be with one's money when there's love involved (or the other way around if you wanna be sugary about it) is the whole Tiger divorce situation. We discussed the very entertaining incidents that led up to it, but I'm sure this new story will make a trashed $70,000 luxury SUV look like a dropped nickel compared to the king's ransom ole Tigger is about to lose. As a lot rich folk with scorned spouses find out, "indiscretions" can be super triple fucka expensive, and Mr. Woods is about to learn that lesson to the tune of...hold on, lemme take a deep breath...five hundred million dollars. Five. Hundred. Million. Dollars.

500 mil is half a billon dollars for those keeping score at home...that's enough to...buy...I...the fu...he can...well I'll skip the comparative analogies and just say that's enough money to do anything humanly possible. What can't you do with 500 million dollars? Excuse me while I go slap myself with all 14 bucks in my pocket. Kanye said it best..."when she leave yo ass, she gon leave with half"...and this is just the latest example. (Shoutout to Michael Jordan's ex-wife...she got that shit on lock to the point where every time you cop some Air Jordans, you're paying for more Fiji water to pour in her swimming pool.) This could have all been avoided. How? With a pre-nup...a good one. (Well, he also could have not got caught, but that's neither here nor there.)

People will look at my saying that and say "oh, that's not romantic", "if you were really in love you'd share everything", "it's a marriage, not a business contract" (I know, that's what the pre-nup is for! It's a not-for-profit marriage...) or my favorite, "a pre-nup means you expect your marriage to fail!" That's a crock of bullshit. I'm about as romantic as the next dude but if there are real assets involved before the marriage, signing a pre-nup is just as important buying home insurance or car insurance...and buying home insurance doesn't mean you expect your house to burn down, right? Does calling up Progressive mean that you expect to get your car keyed? No, you just want to protect your investment, right? There ya go, slugger!

Really, how have people not learned by now? Besides these celebrity cases, it happens to folk like you and me every day. (Well, maybe not me...I'm single and broke for now, so I don't have to worry about that :p ) The fact is about half of marriages end in divorce. Marriage is pretty much by definition a gamble,and if you're a betting man you might as well take half your money, go down somewhere in Southwest Philly and shoot dice. You have a much better chance of winning. (Just ask Tron...clickety-clack!) The soon to be ex-Mrs. Tiger probably never played golf...odds are she never handled any balls or even ever picked up a club (y'know, except as it related to her husband on both counts...lol...) but she's about to get paid like she just won all 4 PGA majors AND the fuckin Super Bowl...Powerball winners now look broke to her. I don't think that's fair.

Now, I'm not saying she should have got nothing but the boot on the way out...after all, I'm sure she performed many duties around the Tiger household, and she deserves some compensation for that...but not $500,000,000 worth. Sorry feministas, but fuck that, to put it succinctly. No way in THEE blue hell. I'm all for making sure she doesn't end up on the street afterwards, but that shit is egregious. So my friends...if any of you are lucky or talented enough to ever get rich and married, make sure y'all straighten out who would leave with what BEFORE you get married. Admittedly,it's not the most romantic thing and you won't see it on Oxygen, but hell...this is real life in twentyten...protect your neck, fool.

Inventions Nobody Fuckin Asked For: the Shake Weight

Maybe I'm immature (big surprise), but every time I see this thing I can't control it...I bust out laughing...I mean for real? Dead seriously for real for real? A "Shake Weight"? I know you've seen the commercial...a bunch of chicks standing around in exercise gear (oh, doesn't it look strenuous!) shaking and shaking and shaking with big smiles on their faces as they make a motion very reminicent of churning butter. (I'm taking the high road here lol)

Its supposed to tone your upper arms so you don't get those weird bizarro-biceps that look like fleshy wings of fat, but I feel like it's something the inventor made as a prank just to see if folk would actually buy it:

Inventor: "Dude...look what I just made...*shakes suggestively* check that out...*giggle, snort*...what's that look like, eh?"

Friend: *laughs* "Dude, that looks like something from Spencer Gifts!"

Inventor: "I know dude! It would be right next to the dick-shaped jello molds and nipple pasta..."

Friend: "Dude, you know what would be epic? If you sold that to chicks, and they used it on TV and you like, got paid for it..."

Inventor: "Yeah, like a handjob strengthener or something!"

Friend: "Dude, that's nasty...chicks won't go for that...it kinda looks like a barbell too, maybe it should be a weight!"

Inventor: "A weight...that you shake?"

Together: "A shake weight! Dude!" *high five*

They're probably laughing right now as they see these commercials advertising this thing. At least I hope so...I can't fathom how somebody actually thought it was a creative, ingenious idea to stumulate physical fitness. If making that motion is supposed to build muscle and improve tone, I know a few people that should be able to bench-press an Escalade. (Fuck it, the high road was closed...lol...)

It could even be dangerous...say it does work like it say it does...how long until some poor dude accidentally gets the stem snatched off his apple by his newly-strengthened Shake Weight owning girlfriend? Yes, the thing is good for a joke and apparently, a umf post...but it's intended as dignified exercise, and in that capacity I gotta say it's an invention that nobody fuckin asked for.

Lies they tell the Chirrens: Tooth Fairy

One of the most pointless lies they tell the chirren is the one about the tooth fairy. Really, who started that bullshit? If you lose a tooth and put it under your pillow, a magic elf with wings (or The Rock) descends into your bedroom at night and leaves you anywhere between a quarter and 5 dollars? Come on... As a kid I heard one of my friends got 10 bucks per chicklet (parents who give their kids $10 for a lost tooth seem like the kind that would actually dress up as a fairy to sneak into their kids room and leave money...it's not that serious on either count lol...) and seriously considered intentionally losing a tooth during a sleepover at his house...luckily I found out the truth before I swandived down his parents stairs at 2 in the morning.

It's kind of a cute story, some flying stalker princess going around handing out monies to sleeping, gapmouth kids, but I really can't really see how encouraging kids to sell parts of their body to strangers that appear in their room after hours is a positive thing...after all, if your child sees a tiny glowing woman who steals her teeth under the cover of night, you might want to lighten up on the NyQuil before bed. Of course, when we get older, common sense kicks in, a lost tooth goes from a profitable concept to expensive outpatient surgery, and we find out that the tooth fairy is nothing more than a lie they tell the chirrens. (Your dad now needs a new excuse to wear that tutu at night...)

A barkeep once told me...

fittedwearer's note: bartenders are some of the smartest people in the world (after all, they figured out a way to sell shots out of a $20 bottle for $5 each) and "a barkeep once told me..." is dedicated to random nuggets of knowledge I've received mid-shot in some bar from some bartender or other...well, the ones I can remember anyway.

...that "there was no bar in the world that didn't have SOMEBODY that wasn't either on drugs, had drugs on them, or were looking for drugs...so I'm willing to look the other way when people roll up in the bathroom..." (We all know my view that my medicine is a plant and not a drug, but for the sake of the quote, let's let the catch-all term stand.) As I sat there and listened to him with a pocket full of semilegal organic material, I knew what he said was the truth, and realized for the first time that they know what I and thousands of others are doing in that stall with that Swisher or Top paper, and that you powder fiends (none for me, thx!) are cutting up lines on the bathroom sink...they just don't care if you don't draw attention to yourself and fuck up their bar. That's an arrangement I can live with, but didn't know about...and now we all do!

Random Thoughts 39- Plagiarism...with cheese!

One of the commercials that cracks me up is the Burger King spot for their new identity challenged breakfast sandwich where they show that weird date rape King (how else does an unknown person wearing a mask get in your bed at 8:30am and have been in your home long enough to make breakfast? "Wake up with the King", my ass...I didn't go to sleep with you, I'm good on that...) breaking into some kind of McFacility and stealing the mysterious recipe of their top rival's breakfast sandwiches, the Sausage McMuffin . (I can picture the grand unveiling back at Burger King's HQ once the King returned from his mission..."A TOASTED english muffin? Those ingenious bastards! Ho-ho...well, we've got them now...") It ends with the tagline "It ain't original, but it's a buck..." Classic.

The King being a criminal aside, the commercial is an obvious reference to the fact the sandwich is a direct rip-off from McDonalds. I think the King showed some class here by admitting it...not all fast food mascots would have done the same. I don't think Wendy said a word about it when she blatantly copied McDonald's snack wrap. (She did improve it by offering a spicy version, but that's beside the point.) Just introduced it like 3 months after Mickey D's like folk was stupid...shameless little bitch.

Oh, and before you start feeling sorry for Ronald McDonald for getting 2 of his prize recipies stolen, consider that he started it. Yes, Ronald himself is guilty of snackspionage...what do you think that Southern Style Chicken Sandwich is but a Chick-fil-a knockoff? You ain't slick...guess what goes around comes around, clown. Now, it doesn't make me feel any better about the King...he still is the most creeptastic plastic faced monarch I've ever seen, but at least I can respect his honesty.

Identity Challenged University (for the fake and fake at heart)

I don't know about you, but I'm dog ass tired of seeing the same 5 or 6 people walk around over and over again. I mean, technically there are more than 5 or 6, it just seems that way because a lot of people aren't themselves...they're whatever they saw on a video or something. Fuck all that...it makes no sense and I'm deathly sick of it...so I'm doing something about it. I'm starting a school for folk that can't figure out who they are without the help of the televison/radio/internet.

ICU (Identity Challenged University) is a small liberal arts school dedicated to making folk easier to tell apart from each other...because if I see one more person who is completely made from other people, I'm gonna eat my own fuckin face. We don't have a basketball team or any Greek life yet, but we do have a school song...poem...rap...thingy...called "ICU, Bitches" (which was written in our horticulture class). Enjoy, and if it describes you, please sign up, classes start soon! No, seriously...I need some of y'all to enroll, like...yesterday.

ICU twentyten, and all the folk that should attend it
your persona aint unique and your swag is fuckin rented
don't have a sense of self, your life or your place in it...
you're not original, you should catch our you-ness clinics
I look you up and down, to be honest I don't see
a independent thought, a trace of personality
why you gotta fraud? you ain't what you claim to be...
you can act like 'him' or 'her', but have trouble being 'me'
you're just a drone, a sheep, look at yaself and feel bad
you never have posessed nor do you ever plan to have
a style to call your own, you just ride the latest fad
you don't have a preference, you'll just "have what they have!"
you're a walking repost, but somehow that's fine with you
you ditto others moves, God forbid you add shit new
you groupthink with your friends, none of y'all stayin true
put y'all in a lineup, can't tell them apart from you...

You need a scholarship, you doin life the wrong way...
a semester's insufficient, take 500 credits, the long way
you're somebody else? damn, every day, all day?
class of twentyten, summa cum fraude...
you claiming ignorance, don't know the folk bout whom I rhyme?
that's bullshit and you know it, think about it, take some time
you know you're quite familiar, you can visualize it fine...
they don't use opinions or facts, they just spit Gucci lines (brr!)
quotables abound, but no wisdom of their own
the fake shit is pervasive and their acting so well known
spend hours in the mirror, recite the scripts when they alone
Not Star Wars, but its "Attack of the Clones!" (zzzzhhh!)
you ain't Nicki Minaj and you sure ain't Lil Wayne
bitch you ain't nobody's Barbie, you out your dippy little brain
You ain't a 5 star chick, givin Stars a fucked up name...
I'm sick of seeing copycats, shit is crazy, just insane...

Some people are so wack and the shit fucks with my head...
(these people hate themselves...mirrors must fill them with dread)
Instead of a facsimile, be original instead
why ride the next man's nuts? Why saddle up his head?
I expose my own thoughts, my mind is butt naked
"I wanna be..." is hot now, but I don't have to take it
I'm me, love it or don't, but I'll never fuckin fake it...
your mask will suffocate you, take it off, you won't make it
you're a lifestyle thief, you bought all your thoughts on eBay
being oneself is hard, but why take the easy way?
the shit is sickening...I ain't giving you no leeway...
knowin damn well "what y'all do is wrong..." (Freeway!)
don't be what Mountain Holler is, a fakeout of the real Dew
I'm Professor AJ, Dean...I want to see the real you
Remember what dude said, "To thine own self be true"...
Play your own position...it's the way of ICU!

*sigh* I feel better now...

Tuition is free for the first month, hit me for more details and class schedules...lol...

*punts mic into crowd*

ETCAM #16- Copabanana Spanish Fries

Yesterday qualified itself as a great day before noon...I woke and smoked and spent my morning at cruising altitude, so it was even better when I got to meet up with AV to go see "KickAss". (which I was supposed to go see this weekend, but then all that stuff 3 posts ago happened and...yeah... Since I mentioned it, here's a 5 second review: the movie has the perfect title. I won't spoil anything, but it's definitely worth 10 bucks to see...buy the bootleg if you must, and you can pick up some incense, body oils, CDs, a bean pie and a dime bag while you're at it...the bootleggy dude on the train usually sells all that too.) We got to the theater around 2:30, but the movie wasn't supposed to start until 4...there's not that many previews in the world. What would we do with the hour and a half in between? Since it was left up to me (2 indecisive folk should never go places together...) I decided we should go get a drink...surprise!

We took a short walk over to my assigned bar for that part of Philly, (yes, I have one for every section...never know when you'll need to randomly kill some time or have a drink) Copabanana. The Copa is a perennial city food and drink award winner, boasting both Philly's best margarita (1/2 price 4-6 weekdays, tasty and strong) and the signature bar munchie, Spanish Fries, which despite my mumerous visits I had nevr had. All over the menu were posted blurbs praising them..."Voted Best In City 3 years straight"..."The original and the best!"..."Find Jesus at the bottom of a basket of Spanish Fries!". Clearly, they were trying to get me to try the things. I went for the hype and put in the order.

Spanish Fries are something Spaniards probably know nothing about (my mom did always say there were people in the world less fortunate than me...) consisting of thick cut fries, fried onions, jalapenos, cheese, and a "secret blend of herbs and spices" which I suspect is mostly Old Bay...whatever. It doesn't really sound that complicated, and true...it ain't haute cuisine. That doesn't make it any less delicious. As with most foods that end up here, the whole is more than the sum of its parts. The seasoned fries have crispy outsides that give way to a hot, mealy core, the jalapenos had heat which was cooled down by the cheese, and fried onions hurt very few foods. It was an addictive...we hungrily devoured every single papà frita. (That's "fry" in Spanish...sometimes I just can't help myself lol)

Copabanana was already one of my favorite bars here, but the Spanish Fries definitely give me one more excuse to go there too much. (At least its not as bad as certain other drankhouses here...some places they start making my preferred drink as soon as I walk in...) Plus, its proximity to the movies makes it the ideal time accelerator for a late showtime...the hour and a half we spent in there only took about 37 minutes. I would recommend it to friends and folk I know...oh, wait...guess I just did... :)

Formsprung

I love reader question day :) ...

You ate one of those fat ass kfc double chicken sammiches ain't u?

hahahaha...no, not yet, I couldn't bring myself to do it...but just for you, I will for the next ETCAM...see, I'm risking not only my arteries, but my freedom (you know I can't do THAT sober lol) for umf...I <3>

what's ur 6th sense?

I can feel police coming...my neck hairs stand up and I get a slight whiff of pork rinds...you develop that after a while of creeping around on the fringes of society doing slightly illegal stuff...

why don't u advertise u.m.f. more? its good, I think more people should see it...

well first of all, 'preciate the compliment...I do try to make umf worth a click, you know you could be anywhere else on the net but you found yourself here somehow, so thanks for reading!

On topic tho, I don't really like overadvertising too much...if I start doing it too much, I'll be that guy I hate who's always throwing his url all up over everywhere (and yes, I did just use 3 prepositions in a row, fuckit lol) and I'm not really up on alternate site-pimping techniques, so if you have some and really think this can or should be bigger, you're welcome to email me a few tips (that goes for all umf'ers :) ) I understand not everybody will be interested, but I'm hoping that those that are inform those that might be *wink wink nudge* so they maybe find their way here too...thanks again for being one of those people!

thanks again for all the questions...I'm off the hot seat til next Wednesday, but til then...keep shooting!

any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...

Swilla fourtwenty: Green Dragon

Good morning my fellow puffers...if you know what day it is, you know what day it is, and if you don't, it's fourtwenty, aka National Lighter Riders Appreciation Day. To celebrate, a couple weeks ago I came across the recipe for Green Dragon, a THC tincture (love that word lol) made with the best parts of both ganja and drank. While such a concoction sounds like something you would have to make in a laboratory with rare extracts and exotic, specialized equipment, the manufature is actually pretty low-tech. All you need is a bottle of Everclear (151-proof rum or the strongest available alcohol if you live in a state like PA which doesn't sell Everclear...I made the trip over to Jersey tho, I guess the state is good for something), some razorleaf (about 1 gram for every 1.5 ounces of alcohol you plan to use) and about 2 weeks. If you want to make some for yourself, here's the recipe:

How to Train your Green Dragon

1) Get your bottle of alcohol. Get rid of about 1/4th of the bottle to make room for the green. (preferably by drinking it...don't say I told you to pour alcohol down the sink like a barbarian, that's a effing lie!)

2) Grind your tree up as finely as you can. The finer the finished ground product is, the faster the alcohol can absorb the cannabinoids in the crop...and you know you're not gonna wanna wait the full 2 weeks. (I lasted 12 days lol)

3) Get the grinds into the bottle. You read umf, so I know you're smart...make a paper funnel or something.

4) Give the bottle a good shake (omg, please close the bottle first!) and stash it away in a dark, room temperature area. Light and heat destroys THC, and the last thing you want is murdered THC on your conscience.

5) Wait 2 weeks. Yes, I know the wait is killing you, so do something productive. Take an online class, volunteer in your community, buy some more weed and smoke it...just kill 14 days or so.

6) Take your new brew and look at it. Is it still pale green? Does it smell like grass (and not the good kind)? You might wanna leave that another week...sorry...but do you want weak drank? I know I don't. Is it the color in the pic or darker and smell like the good herb? That means it's showtime!

7) Unleash the Dragon...enjoy! It does taste just like weed and since it's made with Everclear, it'll put you on your back even with no green at all in it...so don't overdo it. A half-shot at a time is just fine and will have you at cruising altitude for hours (like, you know, right now).

Well, I'm off to go enjoy the fruits of my labor now...happy Tuesday to the straight edgers, but high times and merry Spliffmas to all my stoners!

Drunk with the Clicker: 16 and Pregnant

Not that you would probably expect it, but this is actually one of the shows on TV I'm finding most entertaining right now, especially with a little liquid companionship. "16 and Pregnant" (or 16npreg for short in my mind) follows the trials and tribulations of a teenage girl who has gotten herself pumped full of baby, either by some petrified 15 year old boy or by a much older guy who I'm not sure why Chris Hansen hasn't talked to about statutory rape. It shows all the social, medical, and family changes that a baby having a baby must go through once she's knocked up. (However, am I the only one who thinks this is a little late? Some chick being pregnant at 16 was a shock like 10 years ago...now you see little flocks of ex-10th graders walking around with babies like it's normal...I fully expect to see "13 and Pregnant" come out in a few years.)

Anyway, the reason I find this show well...hilarious...is that many of the episodes have similar characteristics. They usually involve a girl, who I'll call Jenna as a representative, who has the perfect life until she had an unplanned pregnancy (although it was planned enough if she didn't even go so far as a condom...they should start doing military flyovers of major metropolitan areas and drop millions of jimmy fitteds on the citizens, it's really the only next step up from the condom availability of today). Jenna usually is about 4 months pregnant, and is worried about how other people in her high school will think of her on the first day of school now that she's all lumpy and swollen. (They're gonna say the same things you said about the "pregnant girl" who came back to school last year, Jenna...we've all been to high school, come on...)

Jenna is usually incredibly stupid (one episode saw a girl explain her accidental knocking up by saying something to the effect of "me and my boyfriend stopped talking for a few days, so to spite him I stopped taking my birth control and got pregnant by him a month later") and really more concerned about how she's going to keep her boyfriend than how she's gonna deal with the next 18-25 years. The boyfriend is uninterested in being a father (imagine that, an irresponsible 16 year old boy!) more times than not and ends up leaving Jenna to take care of her baby either all alone or with the "help" (read: total takeover...in this second scenario, Jenna is back on the party scene right after the epidural wears off and just leaves the baby in her care whenever she wakes up in the morning feeling like P.Diddy...didn't you learn, you little whore scout?) of her parents.

MTV doesn't get points for realism from me too much, but they've earned them here...that's EXACTLY how it happens in real life. It's not right, its unfair, but best believe it goes down every day...there's a real reason that most of the episodes are similar...because it's real shit. Even though I watch it for the comedic value and the pure "damn, I'm glad that wasn't me at 16" factor, I feel as though it should be required watching for any sexually active teenager to drive home the point: it can happen to you. (Maybe they should show it in health classes...it's the broadcast equivalent to one of those heavy baby bellies filled with sand to simulate pregnancy) Either way, the 16npreg season finale is tonight at 10 on MTV, and if you or your horny little teens haven't seen it yet, I recommend you do...it's very infotaining. No, I never expected to find myself as a pretty avid watcher of this show either, but crazy things happen when you're drunk with the clicker.

Social Networking

I mostly try to be a good, upstanding American citizen, but in my spare time I like to burn. (Can't be on duty all the time, eh?)

A lot of people feel like blazin is just an idle hands session, a lazy, pointless affair involving a bunch of slackers that can only lead to something horrible happening like a bunch of smacked teenagers running over a 7-yr old girl on a bike at 3mph after ordering "15 cheeseburgers!" No. Actually what I'm doing with my time in space is social networking...and not those point-and-click friendsites we all know and love...they're addictive and fun, but every so often you have to log off and go out into the matrix to meet real 3D folk. Sometimes just the fuel to spark that is a little greenery...let me tell ya why.

I was making a friendly weekend visit with Geraldine, "Cousin David" (he's really just regular David, but it's a forms and visitation thing...keep that to yourself tho....), Ashelee and their friendslists. After a few twilight sips of a bottle of Bacardi it was around 9pm and there was no real plan for the night besides to finish that and the other bottle I had brought with me. That's when we received 1 new invitation: to go to a frat party a short walk away.

All the inviters were nice enough to do it in person...I mean that, 25 people came and left the room sending drunken glee mails about the event. One dude was so sociable after apparent hours spent on drinking and redrinking on Drinker he couldn't walk...he just kinda shuffled his feet behind his (great) friend while around the collar to keep him from ending up on somebody's Wall after signing on to Faceplant. Needless to type, it looked like some people intent on having a interesting night, and that's pretty much what I strive for each day.

We started to pack up and leave, and that's when I did something that changed the course of the entire night. I took 5 minutes and used my autoroller to make a few funstix...I figured since we were going to a frat party there might be some new friends that would become a fan of that idea if I was prepared (which I always try to be). Before we went off to the party, we stopped by another cypherfriend, Beatrice's room so the girls could do their whole ttyl thing. (You know girls in college always have to visit each other and make sure they know where the others are going and chickchat back and forth for a few minutes before they leave...guys will just go "aight, man..." and roll out...it's not that we don't care about each other, it's just a different way of showing it. You can't leave on good terms without at least that or an equivalent friendly notice of departure tho...it's a manlaw. Oops...am I off topic? Anyway...)

We stepped into her room to say our goodbyes before the festivities and found...sort of a party type thing. More accurately, it was about 16 assorted people sitting around in 2's and 3's drinking and talking/playing cards/surrounding laptops/watching TV. The girls chatted for a while, Beatrice set me up with a drink...I took that as a indication that we were to stay signed in there for a while, and accepted her friend request. We kicked back for a That drink brought a friend, those 2 brought they baby moms, and eventually I had emptied more cups than I have humorous references for and it was no longer 9pm, but 1 in the morning. Everybody sat around in various degrees of intoxication, doing and saying drunk people things.

The people there seemed cool, and during the course of the night I had been chatting with a few of them. At that point, an idea bubbled up and broke the surface of the alcoholic sea that surrounded my brain...since I was logged in here, I might as well use this opportunity to build my network on that campus. I sent a message to Geraldine suggesting that we find a spot to go make smoke signals at, and that she could invite anybody she knew would be interested. She retweeted this @ Ashelee and Cousin David, and they started a group which reached 8 members...I knew less than that many people there, but clearly more than a few guests were just fine with signing up for MyJ's.

We went out into a chilly night, which sent about half of us (the half that didn't include me, fuck that I wanted to smoke lol) running back to rooms for jackets with promises to come back. It was cool tho, the ones that could brave the briskness would just get on Hazebook without them until they returned. We walked, white styrofoam "I CONTAIN LIQUOR!" cups and all, to a hide-in-plain-sight type spot (it was 2ish in the morning) and made #hitthatshit a trending topic. We stood there and discussed and laughed and commented for a while...the frat party was long forgotten.

2 funstix later, the other half of our group came back with their drinks in hand. I added another J to the rotation, and it seemed like every time one was passed, another one was being handed to you. That effect was pretty awesome, so I decided why not add another? That continued, and for a real chunk of time (I have no idea how long, if you've been reading this you know why) no one's mouth went unadorned for more than a few moments. If you didn't have a funcig dangling from your lips, you had a cup tilted towards your face...the party favors went back and forth like a poke war on Facebook (y'know, except with an actual point.)

Of course, this led to all of us being somewhat less than sober. After quite a few hours of partying, just about all of us were drunker than skunks and higher than required...anybody that has been lucky enough to be around such people knows how that turns out. There were the loud, inebriated conversations about things I don't remember now, a few trips and stumbles (one by me that nobody saw...damn, wait...), a...very interesting...group rendition of "Candy Coated Raindrops and a medley of other ancient 90s hits...even some light sexual assault when one of our number passionately dryhumped Geraldine's sister Juliette (they're friends, don't worry), who came way later and was thus the only person even vaguely in her right mind. (I can feel that...it is kind of weird to be around a bunch of trashed people when you're sober...which is why I try not to be that sober person.)

Not wanting to be poked, she was understandably terrified and actually ran and hid behind Geraldine before the situation was explained to her. She calmed down, because she understands it's not really a party until somebody gets dryhumped. The night continued. After the cups were emptied and the funstix were vapor, predictably we all had the munchies. (If you're not a stoner, you've probably heard a lot about weed, and I can assure you most of it's not true...but the munchies part absolutely is.) Somebody posted the idea to go get some food, and 7 people liked that.

We walked across the street to a nearby McDonalds. Despite it being 4am, the place was packed...apparently we weren't the only folk on campus who enjoyed a cheap midnight snack. Unfortunately, the heartless bastards who run that bullshit burger stand know that too...they stop serving the dollar menu at 12. (Like, who does that!? That's fucked up...wait til smoker happy hour and jack up the prices...I'm writing NORML about this, maybe they can get a protest started.) Not only that, it was cash-only...don't they know people carry debit cards in the future? I'm not sure what kind of Mickey Mouse operation those clowns thought they were running, but as of right now that McDonalds is on my shitlist. If I ever get rich famous for any reason, I'm gonna buy it, build a giant grill over it, set that bitch on fire and use the heat to grill thousands of double cheeseburgers and McChickens, which I will then give away to everybody that day at 12:01am...fuck you too. That's not a threat, it's a status!

After we settled all that out, it was almost 5 in the morning and since this was college, most of them had to log off and get some sleep so they could at least pretend to study something all day Sunday. We all hated to see our time come to an end, but none of us had checked our online lives in over 8 hours, and well...that just can't happen in twentyten. (You damn right it's that serious lol...)

One by one, they said their GNs and went to go eat, computer and sleep it off. It was a great night...I felt so great I didn't even choke Geraldine out for eating one of my snack wraps (raggedy heffa...). I didn't know most of those people a mere work shift before (and to be honest, I don't remember some of their names...sorry y'all I'm bad with names and worse with names after midnight but I'm sure they'll add me or something) but I feel as if I've known them for a long time and actually am looking forward to seeing them again...and if it wasn't for social networking, it never would have happened. So next time somebody gives you a friend request, think twice before hitting "ignore"...wouldn't you rather burn tree than burn bridges?

Down with the Sickness (or my struggle with CSD)

In my life, "What the hell is wrong with you?!" is a question that often has my name on the back of it as a response to something I said/typed/implied through facial expressions and gestures. Often, it's asked with a laugh, sometimes with a shocked gasp...sometimes it hurts to see my defect mocked, but they're both understandable reactions. I forgive y'all, you don't know of my affliction and it's not fair of me to expect anybody to be tolerant of what they don't understand. You see, when that question is asked, nobody knows that there's an answer to it...I don't talk about it much but I feel safe with you guys. I suffer from Chronic Smartass Disorder (or CSD).

CSD is a very serious disease (affecting about 7% of Americans) that attacks the central nervous system. Most people have a neural connection called the "akright" between the brain and the muscles that control our mouths and texting fingers. It filters out all the things that you think, but you know in the back of your mind you shouldn't say. Tragically, mine is underdeveloped and weak due to CSD, leading to uncontrolled witty outbursts, sarcastic jokes, and devastating comebacks. You would think my tongue, loosened by my disorder, would have earned me a few ass kickings, and it has. I've had this disease since I was a small child, and received plenty of smacks and pops from parents, teachers, and other members of that child-raising village as a result. Sadly, by the age of 12 everyone realized that trying to beat CSD out of me was about as effective as trying to beat a hangover out of a wino and simply left me to my words.

You may think always having some shit to say is a blessing, but in reality it can be a burden.You know how some people while walking away from a verbal confrontation think of things they should have said? (The French call it "esprit de l'escalier", the spirit of the stairs...that perfect rebuttal folk come up with 5 minutes too late? Yeah, that.) I usually find myself pondering the things that I maybe shouldn't have said. I don't have an off switch on it, which means many people have taken umbrage to my harsh, unfettered remarks. No one, friend, family or coworker is safe from my good-natured switchblade tongue...in fact the folk I like get most of it, CSD forces me to show affection in this unusual way. To the people I've offended and will offend, I apologize. It's nothing personal, I have nothing against you...it's just that I have CSD! As of now, there'e no cure, but I'm just trying to raise awareness. I'm a sick man...please don't be judgemental of my illness. (Not that I give a fuck what you think...lol...)

Random Thoughts 38- A blunt contradiction...

fittedwearer's note: My questioning their existence does not mean I have a problem with them by any means. In fact, with the stay-fresh pouch and the 2.5 wraps for the price of 1 deal, they're both the best and most economically sound leaf-based wrapping papers on the market...y'know, if you're into that kind of thing. /free promo

I've always wondered if they really don't want us to spark up, then what exactly are these for? Look at the name. A "Bluntville Dutch Wrap". Not only is it intended to wrap a "dutch" (that's an exotic cigar, in case you don't live near a corner store), it's imported from Bluntville, and I'm reasonably sure that place is 420-friendly. It's pretty damn clear what the proper use of these things is...it's not like anybody is gonna unroll the leaves, empty the tobacco out, and put more tobacco in there...and if you do do that, you seriously need a hobby or a girlfriend or a pet (hopefully not all in one) because your life sucks. So how is it that anybody can frolic into their local Quickie Mart and get this perfectly legally and the stuff that goes in it is (mostly) illegal? Isn't that a lot like requiring a license to own bullets, but giving out guns at City Hall? I don't know...the shit never made sense to me...I just wonder...

Work= My Anti-Jail

Everybody knows umf is my real job, but I don't make too much beer money off of that...so I have actual employment I get paid to do on a regular basis. I 'work' for the city as a clerk at the public defender office here in downtown Philly. What does a legal clerk do, you might ask? Well, besides what you're reading right now (I'm on break if anybody asks) being a clerk at a law office is something like being the equipment manager for the New York Yankees. It kinda sounds cool (you get to say you work for the Yankees/for a law firm) it's really a lot less exciting than it sounds (I really just juggle files and answer phones at a desk/organize bats and count gloves in the clubhouse), but the best part is I get to be close to the action (watch every game/look at what happens to mafuckas who break the law from a 3rd party perspective).

That last part has been more interesting than I originally thought when I signed my weekdays away about a year and a half ago...as a result, I get to see the interesting way in which the American justice system works. (It's not really much like 'Law and Order'...if it were more realistic, every episode of the show would be 6 hours long...speedy trial, my ass.) One thing I notice is that once you're in the system, you better grab a Snickers...you're gonna be there for a while. Most of the people whose lives are in my lap in manila-file form right now are career criminals, who have been doing the same shit since about 15 years after they were born.

Does that speak to a lack of good choices? Yes. (I'm really not here to talk that old tired "the man is against me" shit...it's true to a very limited extent...but the reason Rite-Aid won't hire you is because you can't read, not because you're black). It also shows just how badly the justice system is failing those it claims to rehabilitate and make better members of society. You see, once you for whatever reason end up in jail, society has deemed you a bad person. It might not necessarily be true, but that's what the paper trail says and here, that's what counts.

It's even crazier what type of crimes the courts really focus on. The way things work is a little backwards. I don't endorse breaking laws that make sense at all, but if you're gonna do it I recommend going for white collar crime as opposed to what I call black collar crime (haha no, that's not why! It's just that folk who do drug dealing, retail theft and other hands-on stuff tend to wear black). Black collar crimes, despite by their nature being the crimes of poor, probably desperate people, are prosecuted more harshly than their upscale counterparts. (We don't see too many white-collars come through here...they can usually buy the best legal representation, we do the free lawyer here thing here...40 cases per lawyer per day...win or lose, the defender mostly wants to get your case overwith so she can either go on to the next case or go snort some coke, depending on what lawyer we're discussing lol)

Not only that, they tend to have higher bails, longer waits for court (again, you could be sitting in jail for a year and change after your initial arrest waiting to find out how long you'll be in jail if you don't have the money to pay your bail....which most folk who do that type of thing don't) and a much higher rate of repeat offenders. In my experience, the way things work, it's perfectly possible to be addicted to a criminal lifestyle and I feel that's unacceptable, especially if the main purpose to putting somebody in adult timeout is so they'll learn their lesson and play nice.

What about those who actually do go through being locked up once, decide it's not for them, and want to go straight? It's far easier typed than done. Your first conviction is a mark on your name...after that, schools won't touch you, most jobs that don't require that you handle a spatula won't even look at your application (and, increasingly, those that do...do you know you need a high school diploma and a clean criminal background to manage a McDonalds nowadays? Kinda makes sense, guess they wanna make sure you can actually count the buns in the storage room and won't steal them when you're done.) and there you are, free but starving. What else is there to do but get right back up to your old tricks, with maybe some new ones that you learned in jail just for laughs. That's why you see rap sheets that look like:

Johnny Jailbird
DOB: 1/31/76 Sex:M ID# 0816219
Convictions
2/13/91-retail theft (served 8 months)
11/9/91- possession with intent to distribute (served 2 years)
7/16/95- robbery, theft by unlawful taking, grand theft auto, manufactring a controlled substance (sentenced to 5 years, served 2.5 years, 5 years probation)
8/23/99- retail theft, forgery (violated probation, ordered to serve balance of '95 sentence+ additional 2 years)
10/8/05- posession with intent to distribute (served 2 years)
3/14/08- armed robbery, possession with intent, assaulting an officer (serving 7 years)

I'm not saying these people are right for doing the same thing over and over, the trap is just really more common than makes sense if we humans consider ourselves to be reasonably intelligent. I'm sure some of them would go another way if they had a choice (I know, a good amount are dickheads and would keep screwing up even if they did, I won't deny that) but the fact is there are very few options after that first slip-up...one bad decision could change the rest of your life. It's kind of sad if you look at it from the right angle...every day I come in and look at these beige folders full of lost souls. However, it's a powerful lesson...one that stays with me and resounds loudly every time I tuck a case file into it's resting place on the shelf of shame: keep yo black ass out of jail! I think that's something we all can use.

Death at a Terminal (the last ride of Leonard Sedden)

I often joke that SEPTA is evil, but this story is evidence that the best comedy just might come from truth. Sunday, 68-year-old Leonard Sedden died on a NiteOwl bus (aka the Letout Express,the bus that replaces the El in the wee hours of Philly mornings).Now, that's nomally nothing too special, after all 20 or so folk per year take SEPTA all the way to the afterlife for various reasons, but the thing that makes this so sickening is that Leonard could have lived. SEPTA killed him. How, you may ask? Peep the official transcript after an unresponsive man was found on the bus in a pool of his own urine (usually a telltale sign that things ain't quite right for most for over the age of 7.)


[@ 69th Street Terminal, 4:18am]

Driver: I have a passenger that's not responding to me...it looks as thought he's peed on himself and he had drooled a lot. I can't get any actual response. (Gee, you think something may have been wrong?)

Control: uh...just come on down the street, the supervisor will pick you up on the line and give you some assistance. (Yeah, don't call an ambulance, call the fucking shift manager!)

Driver: OK, so just leave him on the bus (!), and pick up passengers when I leave? ("Oh, just fuck him then?")

Control: That's correct. I don't want to delay service. (Oh yeah, we can't delay this Sunday night bus full of drunks, homeless folk and other late night weirdos 10 minutes to call this dudean ambulance. We only delay people who have somewhere to go by running 20 minutes behind schedule at rush hour. Don't be preposterous!) The supervisor will assist you on the line so we don't delay service for the passengers.

[@ 15th and Market streets, roughly half a city and 45 minutes later]

Control: Did you get assistance yet?

Driver: A supervisor checked the passenger (and didn't do shit). He said it appears the passenger is breathing but he wants me to just take him to Frankford Terminal (another 45 minute ride) and have the police take him off the bus.

[@ Frankford Terminal]

Control: I'm trying to makesure you got help. Did the police come and assist you?

Driver: Yes, SEPTA police here, he believes that the passenger is dead.

Control: Did you say dead?!

Driver: Uh, yes, he believes the passenger is dead. (Just listen to the concern in their voices!¡)

As you can see, everyone involved with the situation had ample time to do something...anything else to save this man's life. (Not the passengers, really...the guys with the direct contact to every emergency response team imaginable.) How the hell did he make it almost 2 hours before anybody with any type of basic medical training did so much as to check his pulse? Why in the world were the police the first emergency response team called? Why the fuck couldn't an ambulance meet them anywhere between one end of the 4th largest city in America and the other to give him medical attention? SEPTA claims the answer to all these questions is "following procedure".

You know what I say? I say fuck SEPTA's procedure. What kind of procedure allows anybody to leave a lifeless man in a corner in a puddle of piss? He was obviously an old man...anything could have been wrong with him. Heart attack, stroke, diabetic shock, maybe even alcohol poisoning. (It turned out to be an drug overdose, but that's really not the point...he really could still be alive if it wasn't for the incompetence of SEPTA's response.) It kind of sucks to know if your or my grandmom was to somehow be on SEPTA and pass out that procedure dictates that an ambulance not be called and she be left to die on the bus, but comforting to know that they tried to be on time (and prolly still failed as only SEPTA can). How stupid do they think we are?

They should just come out and say what's really up: they don't give a fuck. Once they got your money, to hell with ya. You go into a coma on the bus, oh well, you paid your fare...you be aight. (I'm surprised they didn't kick dude into the gutter at some stop.) It's absolutely disgusting that SEPTA handled this the way they did and then had the tokens to try and put it behind "procedure". It's appalling, it's asinine, it's...*sigh* all fucked up. The way I see it, SEPTA had just as much to do with the death of Leonard Sedden as Leonard Sedden did. This just goes to show that a killer commute can become more literal than you think, fuckin around with SEPTA.

Formsprung

Whee it's wednesday!

what do u think of the McNabb trade?

(yay a sports question!)
hahahahaha! I love it dearly. You know that cartoon 'Spy vs. Spy' where both spies try like hell to kill each other, but they both usually end up dead? That's exactly what this is like. So yeah....2 thumbs up from me lol

what are u hiding under that damn hat?! I demand 2 know!

Dangerous thoughts...

you joke about hitting girls a lot...have you?

oh shit haha...welp, never first, but self-defense is a mafucka...ever seen "Baby Boy"? Something like that... (except Melvin don't got my momma lol) It's a reflex...action, reaction...see, if everybody kept their hands to themselves this wouldn't be a problem...

do u watch anything besides cartoons and football?!

Yes and no...the nonanimated things I watch are all funny to me...I just like laughing and violence, so if something containse either or both, I'll watch it...

Are u always high? Some of the things u come up with...lol...

Kinda almost lol...but I was a goofball way before I started smokin...that just puts it in stereo...

are you drunk right now?

No, not at all lol...give it til lunch, jeez...

Entertaining as usual haha...thanks ya'll!

any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...

PSA: Facebook Entrepreneurs

The seriousness with which folk take these Facebook games concerns me very deeply. I'm not even talking about the time some people put in to maintain their online farm/gang/restaurant/whorehouse...I understand that some video games can be kind of addictive. (I don't personally partake and, yeah...getting 340 notifications about how 19 of my friends made too many chocolate meatballs in Cafe World does draw on my life sometimes, but hey...it's whatever...) That's all fine and dandy...but this shit right here? It don't make no damn sense.

Like really, you're going to drop $10, $25, $50 in real life dollars so you can buy pretend Facebucks to upgrade your wardrobe in Sorority Life? (Its always funny to glance at the news feed at those glamourous, attractive cartoon avatars and compare them to the owners...I won't be mean and say why, but I'm sure if you're anything like me you see the humor in it.) If you're really gonna spend your own bread to ensure that you have the best and most well equipped cotton plantation in FarmVille, you either need more life or less money...possibly both. Yeah, online games are a fun diversion from work or school or whatever you'd rather be playing Mafia Wars than doing, but come on, people.

I could even understand giving one as a cute little gift for someone you know is a Facebook game junkie (I recommend Facebook rehab, but if you want to be an enabler, go for it) but you just know that's not where it'll end...so where does it? Are people going to start selling blood and sperm (seperately!) to fund their Facebook game habit? Will we one day hear about some current child TV star blowing all their earnings on YoVille gift cards and being forced to the streets? You know there's somebody standing in an aisle at Rite-Aid (or other fine retailers) right now with some cans of soup in one hand, a PetVille gift card in the other, 10 bucks in their pocket and a crunch-time decision to make...I think that shit's awful. Please, my friends...if you're going to play, play responsibly.

Yes, I want fries with that...

The crazy thing about combo numbers in fast food places is that they're pretty much meaningless. (I don't know all of them by heart, that's just being fat and foodhorny...but you prolly know the number for your favorite meal at McDonalds or whatever,unless you're a devout dollar menunaire and haven't ordered a combo since the mid-90s.) Either that or a large percentage of quickserve workers have a touch of the brain damage.

Check it, the point of having meal numbers is to speed up ordering so instead of running out of breath saying you want "a Ranch BLT, an order of freedom fries and a medium fountain beverage", you can just say "gimme a #5" and they know your order. (Yes, that's mine :) ) In theory anyway...most times when you call out a number, a dippy foodslave will hit you with a blank stare and go "the meal or just the sandwich?" What are you, high (on stuff that doesn't grow out the ground)? Fuck you mean?!

You show me a '5 sandwich' on the menu and I'll give you my whole next paycheck. If I wanted just a sandwich, I'd say that, but I said a number...that means I want a whole meal. How hard of a concept is that to grasp? I know it seems like a petty thing to get mad about, but it completely defeats the purpose of even having the numbers attached. Maybe I just need to just start pointing at the picture on the menuboard and grunting...shit, some of these fools might understand me better that way...

In Puffing Memory...

Last night marked the demise of a very important tool in my life. The fucked up item you see is what remains of my autoroller (cause of death: ironically stepped on while I was under the influence of something it made smh) and I thought it was only fitting to honor a useful device broken in the line of duty. I remember the first day I saw it...I was in a newspaper stand/undercover headshop near my job when I spotted them under the glass case right next to the DIY cigarette supplies (loose tobacco, cig papers, etc). There it was...the box said "tobacco roller" but I saw the potential for more. It ended up being some of the best 5 dollars I ever spent.

Yes, when I first got it home, I found its unusual design somewhat vexing (fancy talk for "I couldn't work the mafucka") but in time my skills grew so that I could work with one hand, manufacturing spliff after spliff like magic. (I could turn half an ounce into a pack of smokes' worth of funstix inside 20 minutes!) We had a long and meaningful relationship...there were highs and lows (mostly highs, thxmuch...I try to always stay supplied) but our bond stayed tighter than a well-rolled J. In the time it was active, it rolled both the stickiest of the icky and the shittiest dimes one could imagine into perfect, indentical cylinders without preference or judgement. It did not discriminate, and that's an example we all should try to emulate. Truly, it was a stoner's best friend.

I only owned it for about a year (because I'm very good at breaking shit, even by accident) but between the time I walked out of the store and into a nearby alley to give it a test run and its death-by-friendly-fire last night, it saw about 3 pounds of ganja, 700+ Top Papers and around 2,518 completed happy cigarettes pass through its rollers...a life of productivity that ended far too soon. (I planned to one day pass it down to my son like a family heirloom...so much for that...)

I had to conceal myself in a hidden spot with my one-hitter this morning instead of walking around in the open streets with a really interesting 'Newport'... (seriously, it's a regular cig if you don't know any better, which you ain't supposed to) it was then I realized the impact it had on my day-to-day routine. Yes, I will walk down the street on my lunch break and buy another one just like it, but the role the original played in my life will never be forgotten. Autoroller, here's to you.

Quack Cocaine

fittedwearer's note: the interesting part comes up around 2:30, so in case you're allergic to extended exposure to animation or something you can just skip to that part. Its actually a pretty funny cartoon (a loose parody of "The Scarlet Pimpernel", in case you slept through English Lit in high school...it was the one you didn't read right after you didn't read "Bëowulf") and if you have a extra 6 minutes, you can watch the whole thing...but whatever. Anyways...

I was up on the late late watching cartoons through my bloodshot eyes when this ole wild shit came on. This is an example of something in these old cartoons you wouldn't have caught as a child, but now as a semi-adult, all corrupted and grown, this type of shit jumps right out at you. Since when was it cool for cartoon characters to snort coke? (No, there is no actual white stuff to be seen, but let's be real...is there anything else people snort up that gets them bouncing off the walls for a short period of time? That's right...Mexican marching powder.)

The folks at Looney Tunes can try to play it off whatever way they want, but you look me in the eye and tell me what the fuck else Mr. Duck is doing. The crazy part is this is far from the only instance of something like this...old cartoons are filled with references to drinking, sex and substance abuse, and I guess you just have to be old enough to catch them. I know I did, and now I know just why that crazy bird was so Daffy...homeduck was on that Lindsey. It's crazy...but minor dumb shit like this is what still makes watching kids' stuff fun...well, for me anyway.

Red Red Wine

I was at work playing with Facebook (social networking at work is way better than work at work) when one of my closest friends/first enemies AV invited me to a wine tasting at an upscale glasses store...I never heard of such, and had never actually been to a wine tasting, but there was alcohol involved and that was enough to get me on board. The event was scheduled to start at 5:30, an hour after I got off work, but she had some errands and shit she had to run first. I decided it wasn't worth the time to go home and come back, and so chilled downtown until she came.

After passing about an hour of afterwork time reading old umf posts from last year (yeah, I do it sometimes, what of it?) She texted to tell me she was running late and that I should occupy myself for a little while. Interesting as umf classic is, (lol) I didn't really feel like spending too much more time that I wasn't getting paid for in my office building. After some deliberation, the idea to go pregame for a wine tasting came to me. I would go around the corner to the Vous, catch the tail end of the Phillies game, and open up my palate with a few drinks. (Don't judge me...how am I supposed to appreciate fine wine with a closed palate? Don't be so uncouth...)

I killed about an hour, 7 bucks and 4 drinks in that place before AV let me know she was downtown and we could head over to the tasting, which was conveniently located about 3 blocks from my job. (See why I drink so much? There's like 5 liquor stores,18 bars, and all kinds of alcohol events condensed all around where I work. After a hard day on the job, those places look like sanctuaries to me.) We met up and went in.

I expected to find a wine tasting like I had seen on TV, properly dressed folk with sweaters thrown over their shoulders, ascots and scarves that flowed in the wind even indoors nibbling on imported cheeses and gently imbibing small samples of the finest wine, primly swishing it around their mouth, and neatly expectorating it into a bucket before closing their eyes, sticking their nose in the air, and delivering their expert opinion on the highbrow drank. ("Hmm. Yes. Indeed...a floral nose with notes of cherry and sandalwood and a crisp white grape finish, blah blah blah") I looked down at my standard AJ outfit and wondered whether I was even fit for the occasion with my jeans and sneakers.

I got my answer early when AV pointed out that there was some dude who looked like Steelers safety Troy Polamalu's broke down half cousin with his long, flowing hair out rockin a v-neck white tee and aerosol jeans there. (I'll call him Lloyd...he inserted himself into this story at some point.) That was just the first indication that this was a little different than I imagined. Everybody in the store, employees included had a glass of vino...and they were swallowing. There was not a spit bucket to be seen in the place. (It doesn't really make a whole lot of sense to sell prescription glasses with your clientele not being able to see straight while all drunked up, but whatever...) This was better than I thought...these people did not believe in wasting alcohol, and that's a principle I can get behind.

There was an assortment of crackers and cheeses and other adult delights on a table nearby, so I wasn't completely off the mark. After getting a glass of wine and garnishing it with a grape on the rim because I thought it looked high class or something (I was drunk lol) I looked at the snack...uh, refreshment table. There were cubed chunks of cheese, and small wheels of spreadable cheese with different types of grown up looking crackers to spread the cheese on with tiny spoons that were either intended for a very classy infant or a cultured baby man. The whole scene brought up a flashback of my childhood eating those cracker snack packs that had the tub of cheese with the little red spready stick and a glass of grape juice. It's really kind of the same thing. I guess we don't change as much as we think when we 'grow up'. (I had to resist the urge to do something immature like build a 7 level Toast-Chee column thingamajawn...I think that's bad manners.)

I contemplated that for a minute...that's when I noticed Lloyd giving me the deathglare out the corner of my eye. What in blazes did I do to him?! Maybe he liked AV (likely, its understandable...), maybe they carded his 17 year old lookin ass at the door and was mad he didn't get a drink (I noticed no cup in front of him), maybe he just felt really strongly about people wearing hats inside. Either way, ole boy was definitely giving me the stinkeye. I asked AV if she noticed, and she, of course, had peeped that from jump street. (She might be the only person I know that notices as much or more than me.) I thought about going and getting in his face about it, but decided I didn't want to be a "nigga you can't take NOWHERE, damn!", so I just ignored it as best I could and moved on.

We stood and chatted for a while, and that's when I got to meet one of AV's friends, a girl that I'll call Erin who worked there. She was the person responsible for our open wine bar invite (thanks again, it was fun...) and seemed like a really great chick. She even invited us to a later party session down on Philly's infamous South St. that had a open bar...I was touched, I wanted to and did hug her. (I really was grateful like a mafucka even though we didn't end up going...it's just as well tho, it was Thursday and I guaranfuckintee that if I had parlayed downtown kickin back shots of bottomless liq til midnight there's no way I would be sitting at work or prolly even typing this right now lol...yay for drinking responsibly!) We talked for a few, she refreshed our glasses and skipped away to sell (and empty) some glasses.

Soon after that, something funny happened...somehow, AV managed to spill her drink. (Good job!) Lloyd, who had been leering in our direction ever since we came, came over with some napkins. Actually, to just say he came over is a grave understatement. That guy teleported or something. I will never know how he got from his perch 10+ feet away, pulled some napkins from another dimension (I swear I saw no napkins anywhere! He must have had them bitches tucked in his hair or something...), and nabbed the drops of wine before they hit the ground. If you think I'm bullshittin you, ask AV how fast Lloyd got over there. Guy caught that spilled wine like a falling baby. He then slowly wiped off her jacket that she held in her arm and her purse and gave her a deep, soulful look like he had just rescued her from a fire or something. "Are you all right?!" he asked urgently with a flick of his locks. AV had a puzzled look on her face. (I, meanwhile, was concentrating on not bustin out laughing and spraying wine all over everywhere.) "Uh...yeah, I'm fine, thanks..." she said. (Praisedalawd...she survived...)

After not getting his "my hero!" hug and kiss, he determined that it was my fault in some fashion and shot me one more eyeball thunderbolt before taking his dumb ass to go play somewhere. (I wonder if it would have been okay to trash down on dude if I kept my pinky out and had good posture while doing so...dude was asking for it. Looking back, I kinda wished I had a white leather glove to slap him lightly across the face with. That's that grown man shit.) AV tried on a few pairs of designer frames, I tried a few more glasses of wine for size. After those went down the hatch, I was definitely at cruising altitude...and as a result also managed to drop my drank in the middle of some gesture like an asshole. (Shame on me...oh well, blame it.) Luckily, the wine happened to blend into the rug so it was all good.

We spent a little more time in high society then bid Erin and the rest goodbye to experience more high times. (Shoutout to that restaurant worker dude who popped up out back and not only looked out, but let me borrow his lighter. Truly this is the city of brotherly love haha...) We got yelled at by some crazy old filth lady about "how she did not lust or covet" and a bunch of other unrelated shit before she dipped into an expensive looking restaurant, hung out downtown a little while longer, and parted ways. On the ride home I noticed I was drunker than I thought I was, but it didn't really punch me in the face until I walked through my door and passed out. (I did get to my bed first, and think I may have sent a couple texts...sorry to anyone who was offended lol) Overall, my first wine tasting was an opulent, dignified experience...well, not really, but fuckit I got drunk for free, and that's enough for me. Yes, yes, very good then...hmph.

Fresh InSight

I was asked the other day why I feel the need to be "dressed" at all times. Not really "dressed" in the traditional sense, slacks and frilly shirts and shit...I'm more track jacket/Polo shirt/t-shirt/hoodie and sneakers...but I do try to look like somebody loves me at all times. From the shortest beer run to to the longest journey to see a distant friend, whenever I step out in public view I'm at least reasonably presentable. (I've taken plenty of static for only owning 3 pairs of sweatpants, 2 of which I sleep in...I don't need any more from you lol) Maybe it's just a thing of mine that I can't just walk outside lookin like a dusty whodunit, but you have to think about it...you never know when the way you look that day will last forever.

Peep...most of us have graduated high school (and if you haven't, the way you dress should be the least of your worries since pretty much everybody who will read this is over 21...you probably wear a paper origami fast food hat every day anyway) and you could encounter somebody from your class. "What have you been doing with your life since graduation?" is an awkward question to answer while looking like you were found under somebody's bed. Whatever your answer, they'll assume it was a lie and assume the real response is "waiting for folk to put change in my cup." That's really a situation I'd like to avoid if possible.

How about if you end up on the news? You could end up with a news camera pointed in your face as an eyewitness to a story (please don't be that loud, hype eyewitness shoutin out your hood and sayin wassup to Pookie and nem...every time you do that, you set our people back 45 seconds), and then the entire metropolitan area will see you in your hobo jumpsuit. You're marked now. Everybody you know is gonna clown you into submission as 'that bum they interviewed' and now you get to live out the rest of your life with mafuckas dropping coins into every cup you hold and being shooed off park and bus stop benches. That's no good.

Let's even take it to the next level...it's twentyten, and if you don't know any event that humans witness is a cell-phone whipout away from the internet, you should. What if some ole next shit happens while you're on the way to the supermarket,and you happen to be a bystander? Of course somebody's gonna have some type of video recording device and tape the whole scene, and all of a sudden that dingy white tee, stained gray gym class sweats, old strap cap with 'Marlboro' on the back and shoes that look like you shot them down from a telephone wire and laced them bitches up are immortalized for all time online.

Now you're that person in the background that people pick out and laugh at on their 2nd or 3rd time watching a YouTube video. ("Yo! Oh shit, check out the chick in the crowd over there! I ain't even see her before... Right there... *pauses* there! Now why she even come outside like that! Bitch know she wrong...") If you're really unlucky, some asshole could snap a flick of you and before you know it, you're on hotghettomess.com or part of some funny email circulating around office buildings nationwide. Is that what you want?

Now, I'm not a prissy dude or anything (can a straight male ever be prissy?) I understand about work clothes and ballin/exercise clothes and other dirt-prone activewear...I mean, some things you just can't do and be fly at the same time. You won't see me type that that's not true. I know damn well I'm not playing football in some shit I just popped the tags on, that's just stupid. I'm just sayin tho...for your own sake, whenever possible, try not to look like you were dragged out of an alley after a rough and unfashionable ordeal. The fact is the first thing anybody knows about us is what they see, and while in a perfect world it wouldn't work that way, we don't live anywhere near that planet. Sometimes the first impression is your only impression, and you just never know what you'll cross lives with on any given day...I just like to be prepared for anything. That's why. (Besides, I wouldn't wanna end up posted about...I like being on the fun end of that...lol...)