OT - Guess who's biz-zack!

Ayy yo,

What it do, BAF? What it look like and all dat?  Well, well, well... Where do I begin?  Why at the beginning of course.

I'm back at Mr. Cholly's International House of Schiff-A-Robe Bustin' after a much needed week long vacation.  As some of you may already know I spent it in sunny (hot-as-hell) California and I gotta tell ya, if Janet or Jermaine Jackson happens to die a day or two before I head out that way again, I'm changing my plans immediately and taking my dark rump to Jamaica instead.  I loved the "King o' Pop" but I'll be dayum if I want to hear anymore 24hour tributes to him anytime soon. Enough already, Yo! Let the man rest. Please.

Last week quarterback Steve McNair ran up on some strange and dangerous coochie that didn't even involve a tranny with a broken heart and got his blacque azz smoked in the process. Ladies, if the dills-nik is soooo good to you until you find yourself out with a dayum flashlight in the day time looking for his azz, then you know you'd better back off and take a time out before you find yourself doing time over his dyck-slingin' azz.  Fellas, if the putty is THAT good to where you find yourself setting her up in her own condo and sh*t then I just got one thing to say to you - "Buy a bullet-proof vest, Ninja!  Buy a mawfuggin bullet-proof vest!"

What else has been happening while I was away BAF?  Bring ya boy up to speed.  Please!

Thanks.  I write 'em like I feel 'em.