some cool things happened on the train this morning

that i really should tell you about, except im having a hard time concentrating because theres a very sexy girl walking around the control room here in super low cut jeans, a sparkely belt with stars, and a semi belly shirt.

dont people know that we’re trying to fight some serious crime up in this peice?

k, so anyway, got out of the house early again this morning in hope that my lust interest would be near my work so i could get her number like i should have yesterday.

got down into the subway and theres an announcement. Lord only knows what they were trying to tell us because everything that comes out of that loudspeaker sounds like the teacher from Peanuts.

all i knew was the subway train was stopped and people were asking each other what the fuck the lady said and the train wasnt going anywhere.

soon everyone was being told to leave the train, that another train would be coming on the other track in a few minutes.

hold on this gets way better.

so we all got off the train, and since im mr. camera picture taker dude, i took pics of all the people waiting. click. click. click.

then i see three paramedics taking somebody up the escalator on a stretcher. click.

then the train came and we all get on and i see a big black dude with a clippers jersey with huge arms and on one of his biceps i see a terrible tattoo that i really wanted to take a picture of but this guy was a little intimidating so i didnt steal his soul.

which turned out to be a smart move on my part, because there we were on a super jammed up train and suddenly clipper fan is yelling at a homeless man for taking up two seats with his homelessness.

homeless man, who we will call george (cuz he was black and dreadlocked like George Clinton from P-Funk) wakes up startled hearing clipper bro barking at him and moves his bag of crap and gives the double peace sign.

but thats not enough for clipper fan who keeps staring at him, so george stares at him back.

Black people may not have money power priveledge but we do have pride.

Clipper fan, asks george what hes staring at. all black folk know thats a trick question, so he doesnt answer.

clipper fan asks it again and again and then again.

the formerly overcrowded train suddenly has lots of room for people to get out of the way of what is about to go down, namely a young strong black man pouncing on the weak old homeless prey.

a mom takes her four year old and puts him on her lap. he starts crying cuz he wants to walk around. everyone is quiet. some white guy reading john grisham pretends to read as he walks away from the drama. me im thinking i need a camera that attaches to my forehead because this shit is good.

then Clipper fan reaches into his back pack and keeps his hand in there, bicep flexed, looking bigger than ever.

do you want to die, nigga? he asks george.

homeless man thinks about it.

i said, do you want to die, fool?

george nods to the affirmative!

all i could imagine was bright red blood and brains all over the bulletproof glass window of the metro car.

do you know who i am? Clipper fan asks.

whole time im thinking im undercover, i cant blow my cover. i dont think this dude has a gun and even if he does i dont think hes gonna blow this dude away over being stared at so i play it cool. just observing. reaching into my backpack. i will run at him, shoot him point blank in the nose. i might hit someone else but whatev, xbi bitch. then i disarm him then i will run away up the escalator.

i axed you if you knew who i was, nig-gah!

george shook his head no.

im a young wild black fool with nothing to lose and i will pop you right now.

we got to the stop and the doors opened.

it was my stop.

i couldnt radio anyone cuz i was beneath the fucking crust of la and i was in the second to last car on the train and the dumbass metro drivers never do anything if you run at them waiving your arms, so you know what i did?

i got on the escalator, walked up to the surface

and then i said a little prayer for my bro george clinton and the sleeping man in the seat behind him.

lynn + meigan + im hose monster’s hero

well the war’s still going on

so to protest it i will continue to put up pictures of hot girls. today we gaze upon bellies and legs of ms. paris and nikki hilton, porn star names if ever i saw em.

fell asleep last night while finishing up the website of los angeles’s best attorney, but i promise it will be done this weekend.

i have no idea why im slacking on it. my attorney has been so wonderful to me, and has never complained at my medicraty. maybe its because she knows that in real life im americas biggest loser.

which is interesting. ive had several supervisors who have complained to me that i try to come across as “mr. cool.” and i look around and i think who the hell are they talking about?

my mom buys most of my clothes, and she still shops for them in the same places that she bought me clothes when i was 8. sears. most the time these trendy threads are wrinkled because i leave them in the laundry hamper.

my hair has always been a joke.

i either wear white sneakers or black ones.

i mispronounce words worst than i spell them.

i love sports so much i play online internet fantasy games.

im a tv junkie.

i stay at home way more than i go out.

my house is a mess pretty much at all times. i dont read books. im a born again Christian. and my newest favorite hobby is gardening.

none of these activities add up to the doings of anyone named mr. cool.

and yet somehow i continue to be levied criticism of always “trying to look cool.”

theres nothing cool about me, other than my friends. i have the coolest friends.

im wearing a raiders beanie which on most people makes them look tougher, on me it makes me look cold and pin-heady. it cost me $5 at the subway stop.

my sunglasses have flames on the side stickered on. those, too, cost me five bucks.

mr. cool’s bicycle is broken.

mr. cool doesnt have a date for this weekend and isnt all that upset about it. maybe thats a little cool, but not really.

mr. cool needs to toast his bagel from a bag of five that he got from the ninety nine cent store.

mr. cool loves you all.

how to start a free blog (scroll to the bottom) + backseat driver + fussy