I busted a nut on my laptop. Sparks started flying out of it. I asked my mom if she could let me borrow money for a new one. She said, Son you’re 26. The underlying truth in that statement is self-evident, as you can tell. So I go back to my room and on my laptop is the nut I busted. It looks like coffee cream. Amaretto. It’s on the keyboard like a big fat SPLAT! And even on the screen is a sprinkle of juice. So now I don’t have a laptop, which sucks. I’m thinking, how long do I have to save to get a laptop? Should I even get a new laptop. I don’t even want anything. The feeling of not wanting anything.


The Enviable Demise Of An Unknown Writer

I knew a guy whose work was deteriorating

I said, homie…you have writer’s block, you need to stop

Nah. I’ll never stop, vato. This my livelihood, Dookie.

Well, can you stop making your writing public? It’s kind of messing up your earlier, better work.

Nah homes. You just don’t get it. I have to do this. I’m a pure writer.

I don’t understand the connection.

I know. You don’t get it. I told you, eh.


A Testy Exchange

At least I don’t live in my mom’s basement!, she shouted.

Yeah well at least my mom isn’t gonna die next month

How do you know that? How do you know that! Mama’s boy!

Well…at least I’m trying really hard to get out

Really hard? Oh sweety, you spend all day writing on your blog. You poor soul. Now I just feel sorry for you.

Don’t feel sorry for me. Have a party for me. Bitches, balloons, Bacardi, and weed. And let niggas know that I died with the heart of a G.

What’s that?

Juelz Santana. Check him out.

Maybe I will!!

*Puts on headphones*

*3 minutes pass*

Great song. Oh Jose. This would all be so much better if you were successful.

I am successful – in my own eyes.

Studio Audience: Awwww