Can you hear me now?

My cell phone broke so there'll be no talking to the ladies for me for a while. Alls well though, I hadn't had one for over 2 years until November. Not really tied to it like that. Used to doing without anyways.

Lost my third game of the week. Ridiculous. These are three separate losing teams, and in my defense, it ain't my fault they lose. Tuesday, for example, I couldn't miss for shit. I alone kept us in the game and they still didn't get me the ball. I scored all my points off of broken plays. You see your teammate shooting lights out, why not get him the ball? I'll never understand it.

"They jealous, they wanna step in my spot/
but you could sneeze the rest of your life and won't get the blessings I got"
Sean J of the Field Mob on Smilin'

Ooh, here's a goodie:

"You butter your bread really nice, man. You cover all corners."
That's me paraphrasing my mother's dead ex husband (he was her ex husband long before he was dead, in case you're wondering. They were also divorced long before I came along, so we didn't need Maury to know he's not my father). The only man to call me "Seanie" and make it sound good. He beat the shit out my mother (her account) but he always smiled the good smile. It was no surprise he had a lot of goodies in the quotes department. Here's the breakdown. Say you've got a job, a couple bank accounts, get yourself a nice homestead and a beautiful car. You're all set right? You're happy, no? That's when 'ol Mr. Roy Lee steps in and says "You buttered your bread real nice, man. You covered every corner. Nice, even and smooth." Or some permutation thereof. You get the idea. In other words, you took care of business, didn't put your eggs in one basket, covered all your bases, etc.

So this morning I'm applying the goobers to my toast. As always I do it with precision. All careful-like, you dig? A nice thin layer of goodness. That's sweet, creamy peanut butter and strawberry jam. It goes extremely well with coffee, tea, beer, milkshakes, cheese (for you Leila), ganja, biscuits, fried chicken, pizza, roasted duck in mango salsa with apricot chutney, tacos, chitterlings, gin and juice, you name it! Good stuff. So, my mother whispers to me, all wise-like, you dig? "You butter your bread real nice, man. You cover every corner." Schweet, right? Take that one with you to the bank. Deposit it. Let it garner some fucking interest. Withdraw in about 7 years. Then spring it on your first born. Wait out the chill going down your spine. When your youngster registers it, wink. You dig? All smooth-like.

Today I'm feeling:

Glad my mother is my mother

Good one mama bear. Good one.