Good Lord, How Many Mexicans can you fit in one Toyota?

It seems that the best thing for getting my traffic up has been to continually post things regarding racism, so in order to suck up to my capitalist Gods I have to insert titles that draw people hating on (INSERT PROTECTED MINORITY HERE).

Today was completely uneventful aside from the professional size hangaround with which I awoke this morning. You see there are alot of young turks working with me that enjoy dragging the old man out to various night spots and trying to keep him out until Election Day. Walt is the par excellance at this tactic by passing me a small note at 4:30 suggesting we purchase the obligatory single pitcher of God's nectar.

Long story short, the single pitcher wound up being bottomless and I drug my rapidly deteriorating body into the bed at 3:30 am. While I did arise in time to make the hour and half drive to the HBC, I still looked as one colleague described, "Like a homeless person."

Oh yes, I arrived with a king-sized rabbit chasing ongoing, wearing blue jeans, t-shirt, and a three day growth. Not to worry too much soundboyz, I know how persons of color operate, so I greeted my contact with the word, "HOMEY" and you know how much black folks love that. I also followed that line with the always welcome, "My God, I love your hair, can I touch it?" It was all over. Eating from my palm, baby.

So, the CSI Products Show proved to be the same as last year, just smaller. I see all the people that I used to work with the one time every year that I see them and manage to procure about 67 free drink tickets, (yay, Sam) then piss everyone off. It's just the thing I need at this stage of the game. The best part of the evening came when Peaches or Mike-Mike (depending on which side of the family you're on) won the $500.00 Grand Prize giveaway. You think that he offered to spot me a twenty? Nope, I got mine, now you get yours.

Oh, does it creep anyone else out that there could possibly be a dude that remembers everyone's birthday and offers to contribute cornbread for that occasion? Weird, dammit, just plain weird. Sorry, if that offends.

Enough for today, I'll get back to the racial fire stoking tomorrow. I am running on about 12 hours of sleep since Jewvemberday and it is taking its toll. Dammit, a forty-year-old shouldn't live life as a roadie for Widespread Panic. Oh, and if I continue to do it, I will probably never be able to play professional sports.

Anyway, Laura, the one who hates my guts, finally got some wordy-words up on the BLOG that she has been advertising, so you should check it out.

Peace out!

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