Guest Blog

The First 48

Today’s Guest Blogger is A Genius, who’s hilarious blog is called “Death of a Genius“. And he has a book for sale that y’all should get.

The First 48
For jumpoffs…the clock starts ticking the moment they are called. Your chance for jumping off is cut in half if you don’t get a lead within the first 48 hours.

Why do dudes waste mad time when dealing with a jump? I’m trying to figure how this is happening. All on the phone chatting it up about life, politics, futures and shit. You really need to stop it now. If not today, 2 days is the limit. I don’t even talk about what the weather is going to be like next week. Keep your 5 day forecast to yourself. The blizzard next Wed. is of no concern to US…

As soon as the phone rings, the clock starts. First off, stop calling at 8:30 on a Wed. night…you’re losing. 10:45PM on a Fri. is the only time to start packing the parachute for her. Why 10:30 you say? Because she’s a bird so she’s going to the club when it’s free…or she’s not going at all. That’s before 11. 10:30 she SHOULD be on the way, so she’s about to be busy. Good. We don’t need to talk for a long time. She SHOULD also be going to get drunk. Even better! If you’re good…or me. You might even talk her from going to the club. If you do that, you should be sliding that night like the park has light. But if you can’t…she’ll go get drunk and I don’t need to spell it out…but I will. Y-O-U-S-H-O-U-L-D-B-E-F-*-C-K-I-N-G. You can extend it to Sat. night, but you’re getting close to the First 48…you don’t need to be rubbing up against that. You need to be rubbing up against that. We all know that JO’s get Holy Sunday…only
Sunday. So you’re done on that day, unless you’re me. Beating in the church parking lot FTW! Chill…

This isn’t about that though…this episode is about…“The Let Down”

Say she’s in the crib and you end up having to talk to her for a minute. *sigh* In these phone convos, as a rule, I no longer talk about sex…at all. Lying on the coochie…damn shame. I think every girl has super wet, super tight, Heaven sent, touched by Baby Jesus himself, OJ glove type *****. The lies! I don’t really like entertaining these convos because it’s all lies. You don’t know how good your shit is unless you fucked yourself…or I did. I’m like the USDA with the stamp. Everybody’s lying…except me. (It’s as real as I say.)

You ever had a good shit talking session only to be more disappointed than your parents are in you? I mean a “Nigga, you can’t handle this shit here…” type “Let me do some pushups before I go over” type joint. A “My head game be havin niggas running away…” type joint.

Lies. You go over expecting her to answer the door butt ass naked…but what you get is a lightweight dirty apt. with a crying baby and for some reason, the TV is always dumb loud over JO’s houses. Shit be having me thinking she was holding that convo while in the closet or something. How didn’t my phone pick up any background noise at all??! Fuckin, T-Mobile…

But yea, after 2 hours of waiting for her to half clean up and put the critters to bed, your Red Bull is wearing off…but it’s time for some fly shit. ONOZ! Now she’s playing shy like the Bulls and shit. I thought she was gonna act 21 about the shit, but she’s acting mad Cubish when a nigga steps to the plate. I’m trying to get her in nothing but her white socks but damn…*insert a clever line about the Bears here* What happened to all that shit on the phone?!?

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Well, I still pizzled…because gas isn’t free. And as I’m beating I’m thinking “What happened to all that shit on the phone?!?” WEAKEST VAG EVER!! I mean, it was wet, I guess…but her list of moves was weaker than a motherfucker. I mean, her go to move was not even kinda thrilling. You can tell she thought it was the shit, too. Kept doing it like “UH HUH, nigga! How you gon’ act when I do this! *does weak shit*…the same way I’ve been acting. Scram…

The messed up part is that if you have a shitty teammate you’re not gonna be at your best either. If I’m not the shit to you, you’re not the shit. Simple. So I have to take an L, too. Good thing I didn’t talk it up. The let down…

*Disclaimer: This is past tense shit. I have a girl…chill.

Previous post

Do for Love

Next post

Super Bowl was a Super Bore

Awesomely Luvvie

Awesomely Luvvie

Wacky Wordsmith. Renowned Ranter. Pop Culture PrimaDonna. Side-Eye Sorceress. Shade Samurai. Foolery Fanatic. Dynamic Digerati with a Superior Shoe Game. Follow her everywhere:

No Comment

Leave a reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *