October 11, 2006
Letter of Truth: Part BOO-YEAH
What is UP? Hey HEY! Yeah, I'm just standing here, doing The Sprinkler in front of Westfield Shopping Town. TESTIFY!
So, yeah, we haven't talked lately and you know, Britney is always saying I'm like a bad communicator and shit but the truth is, yo, I have got my HANDS FULL. First of all, my acting career is off the HOOK. Check it out: I'm on CSI this week and listen, I fucking rock the house on that show. I'm pretty sure they're going to ask me to have my own CSI. CSI: YOUR ASS. And I'll go all over America investigating HOT ASSES. Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. Holla!
But seriously, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get my own show now, and then who'll be the breadwinner, baby? That's right: yo soy la breadwinner, bitches. And that'll be the end of "No, you can't buy a Slurpee machine," and "Who's the person in this relationship who HAS a Grammy?" and "please hold the baby."
So yeah, I've got this whole acting thing happening and I also am doing a lot of shopping, obviously, and I'm been really busy not tying my shoes and buying pants that make me look really stumpy, because MAN does that piss B off, and she's really funny when she's pissed off, because then she starts yelling and sometimes her gum falls on the floor. Let's see, what else have I been up to? I feel like there's something else. DAMN. My short term memory is for shit now, dude.
Damn, I am just fooling wit' you. I remember what else is going on in my life: MY CD. Yeah, I know everyone thought my single sucked monkey balls (to quote my wife, like, THANKS FOR BEING SO SUPPORTIVE. Damn. You sang a song about your damn diary once. Jesus.), but that's because it's a concept album, dogs. You just haven't heard THE WHOLE THING. It makes that Timberlake punk look like Lance Bass. YEAH, I SAID IT. TIMBERLAKE'S A GAY! Heh. I said that to Britney once and she punched me in the ear. She so easy.
Oh, yeah, and we had another baby. I ALMOST talked B into naming him Sean P2, but she ain't that simple. I also wanted to name him Snoop D -- like, Sean P is after P Diddy, so why not give some love to the D O Double G? And she said no.
She's so boring, dudes. My next wife is going to be Paris Hilton. You know she would totally let me smoke out at home.
And now she's yelling at me again. Something about me emptying our 401k? No way she could have found out about that shit already. I better go on damage control. Which means, turn up the Vandross...it's time for Baby Number Three.
PEACE OUT, BITCHES