I am fond of remarkably large hind quarters, and I am incapable of falsehood. My fraternal counterparts find it impossible to refute this. When a female enters the room with a small waist and a curvy back side, I am certain that you, gentle reader, will become like a spring and want to speak with her. You’ll notice, no doubt, that she has spent time and no small amount of effort to get those tight pantaloons on over her remarkable hind parts. I myself am quite addicted to the sight of her, and find it impossible to tear my eyes away.

O, thou glorious woman, I want to be around you and take some photographs of you! My colleagues tried to tell me that you are not to be trifled with, but those incredible buttocks make me quite randy! I will caress all of your silken skin. You have previously stated that you would like to go for a drive in my Mercedes-Benz. I am at your service and beg you to avail yourself of my resources, because you are far from the average coat-check girl.

I’ve seen girls like you swaying to the music, and it makes me want to forego some of the more mundane trappings of courtship. You are wet with perspiration, and it reminds me of some of the turbo-equipped Chevrolet Corvettes!

I tire of the regular publications and their claims that the less protuberant hind quarters are all the rage. If you ask one of our many Afro-American colleagues what they think of this notion, they will certainly confirm that a potential mate needs quite the bulbous rear.

I ask you, male associates… I say, I ask you, my male associates… Does your significant other boast an aforementioned pleasing gluteal region? Then ask her to show off her healthy derriere by shake- shake- shaking it for all to see!

She has a Los Angeles visage, coupled with the rear end reminiscient of some members of Oakland’s citizenry!

I like them spherical and large, and when I am involved in a concert I can barely contain myself. I behave like a beast!

Now, I present my conundrum:

I want to spirit you away to my estate, and “Egad!”, and twice more “Egad! Egad!” I am not referring to the publications of Hugh Heffner, because silicone-based body modification is only suitable for inanimate playthings. I want these hind quarters to be quite large, and full of juice! I implore you to find the pair to which I am referring. I would be in trouble, even to the point of groveling for some small part of that orb.

As we speak I am enjoying some music videos of the rock variety, and watching these questionable women walking like painted ladies. You can keep those questionable women. I will instead encourage my ladies to be more like Florence Griffith Joyner.

As an aside to my stout Afro-American lady friends, I want to be around you. I will not use profanity or strike you, but I must be honest with you and say that I do have carnal intentions for you nigh until the sun emerges over the horizon. I am quite remarkable!

A lot of the men who procure women of the night will not find this song compelling. They prefer to do their lustful business and then quickly retire. I would rather remain and frolick, because I am lengthened, strengthened, and am certainly ready to make fricative contact.

As such, I ask you, ladies… I say, I ask you ladies: Would you enjoy a drive in my Mercedes-Benz? Then turn on your heel and present your hind parts. Even caucasions are compelled to yawp!

That girl has a remarkable rear end!

As previously stated, she has a Los Angeles visage and the rear end reminiscent of some members of Oakland’s citizenry!

Oh yes, my dove. When it comes to the ladies, the measurements 36″ 24″ 26″ are only suitable for a woman of five foot three inches in height.

So, your significant other has purchased a Honda, and sometimes exercises to workouts with Jane Fonda’s collection of videotapes. I must warn you that Ms. Fonda lacks an engine in the rear compartment of her Honda. My anaconda is disinterested unless you have buttocks, my lady.

You can do any exercises to the side, or perhaps abdominal crunches, but I beg you to not lose your rear. Some of my fraternal colleagues like to take a more severe tack, and expell you unless you strive to slim your posterior. If that happens, I will quickly arrive to bring you back. Cosmopolitan magazine has made claims that you are overweight? Poppycock! Your midsection is diminutive and you have excellent curving regions. It makes me think about penetration.

I send this word to the emaciated women of some periodicals: You are not as great as you think you are. I can’t resist those women of color who have benefitted greatly from the cajun red beans and rice dish!

Some charlatan failed to respect me because I have been seeing his lady. He was no slouch, but he make the mistake of physically assaulting his women, and I made my move to be with them instead.

So, ladies, I will offer you the very best of my lovemaking If you will only call me at my home number.

That girl has quite a healthy backside!

Ugh. I’m as weak as a kitten.

I’ve been in bed since Monday night around 9pm with the shivering, teeth-chattering fevers like I haven’t had since I was a kid. My fever finally broke last night, but I’m still moving really slowly.

Hopefully tomorrow I will be back in action at full strength.

I have seen some really terrible TV this week as well, not the least of which being a documentary on Ashlee Simpson (in 2 parts), episodes of Surreal Life, Strange Love, and National Security featuring Martin Lawrence. They were all pretty bad, but National Security really took the cake.

Oh, and let’s not forget Celebrity Fit Club.

Although all these stupid shows have made my brain hurt, I can’t help pulling for our old buddy Biz Markee. I’d like to see him do well for himself.

What I’d really like to do is follow him around and sing at him.

“What are you doing there, Biz? Ordering a cheeseburger? OH BABY BIZ, BIZ ORDERED BIG CHEESE, BUT YOU SAY HE’S JUST A oh god my face, Biz, noooo!”

*sound effects: scuffling, crashing, burger king employees yelling*

FUck i hate moving! Every time I move I say to myself “Next time I am hiring movers”, but every time I wait till the last minute, and I continue to not make enough money to afford them.

Damnit!

I got accosted by my neighbor, who was asking me if I was sure I was doing the right thing moving out, and telling me that my ex girlfriend really misses me and whatnot. He also wanted to tell me that she’s had male visitors.

Perhaps he thinks that breaking up with someone you really care for is a snap?

I told him it wasn’t my business who she had over but that I hoped she wasn’t sitting in there being sad all by her lonesome, and that she needed friends and companions just like every other human being.

Everyone acts like it’s easy to leave someone who really cares for you. Maybe everyone in the world besides myself and Shawn Allen is a callous, careless fuckneck.

Maybe people are just nosey. God knows I am.

The other night I was driving by the Dunkin Donuts on North Druid Hills after having a couple of beers with some friends, when I saw some masked men run into the place. It looked for all the world like they intended to hold the place up.

I thought to myself, No fucking way, but like a stupid ass I had to swing back around to be sure. I made a placid U-turn with the radio blaring, and looked out the passenger side at the donut shop.

Sure enough, one guy was standing at the door looking out, and the other guys were pointing guns at the employees. Oh fuck!

I made the right turn onto La Vista and drove along the side of the donut shop, thinking I would call the cops and tell them what was going on, but I noticed in my rearview as I drove on that the thieves jumped into their car and sped out of the parking lot.

Well now they were fuckin RIGHT BEHIND ME. I was thinking this must be top five stupidest things I have ever done, because La Vista at that point becomes a two lane, so I had to get out of the way or the thieves were stuck behind me with their guns and donut holes and whatever else they had.

Thankfully there was a right hander into the neighborhood right there, which I took. They drove on straight past me.

So, I didn’t exactly FIGHT crime, necessarily, but I did slow crime up a bit while I got out of its way and let it roll merrily into the night.

I called the cops, but I didn’t have any good info for them because I was too busy saving my neck to get a license plate or a description.

So, I guess I won’t be having that superhero cape and underpants tailor made for me just yet.

My small pile of bricks

Well, I feel that I can probably claim to be a leading expert in the city of Atlanta for the newest instrument I can play, which is the pile of bricks.

You go down to Lowe’s, you buy yourself some bricks for 39 cents each, then you take them in the studio, pile them up on a scrap of carpet, and stomp around like a retard, being careful not to kick the microphone and cause Hopkins to snap your neck. That’s how you play the pile of bricks!

Now you’re an expert too!