Important New Law Passed Today...

I Said Pu$$y Not Piss Damnit!

The single days were just great. A lot of hood rats rolled through. Not all hood rats, but I had quite my share in the day. One of them stands out for some reason. I met this chick at the subway station. I don’t know if I was on my way to work, or not. But I was always going somewhere those days. She is pretty much on the other side waiting to go the other way. She yells over, and asks for a cigarette. Being the gentleman that I am, I tell her to come and get it. She obliges, wasn’t hard to tell that the deal was sealed. So we are sitting there talking, and I’m sizing her up. She had some pretty eyes, and long hair. She said everything on her was hers. That ass and them tits were real, that’s for damn sure. I couldn’t wait to tap that ass.

I don’t know how long we talked on the phone before her visit. I don’t even remember her name to be honest. I am bad with names anyway. At this time, I stayed shit faced. My drink at the time was old grand dad, 100 proof. When you have a toothache, some older black person would tell your ass to get some whiskey. I should have known not to follow my grandfather’s advice then. But, what the hell, right?

Well, anyways, the chick was due to come over. When she arrived, I knew it was chickenhead time. She immediately looks at the liquor and is like;

“Ooooh, what’s this daddy, can I take a swig of this?”

I grumbled out a yeah. But I wasn’t too thrilled that I had to share with her. It is always bring your own bag day at my house. While I was in the kitchen getting her a cup, she was guzzling this 100 proof liquor like it was miracle spring water. This shit was a pint of some hard shit, that usually at that time, took me at least, 4 days to even finish. This wasn’t going to end well. It was the principle of it all. She then sees in the ashtray, that there is a freshly rolled joint. Now this was some goods, and if I smoked alone, I was rolling it in some e-z wider.

“Ooooh, is that some herb? Yo what’s up, lets light that shit up!”


What the fuck did I get myself into? I am trying to be the polite host and shit, but this was already getting ridiculous. So, I light the shit up, and I swear I think I only took three pulls. I pass the shit to her, and she showed no mercy to this shit. I didn’t know if I was looking at a long hair, pretty eyed beauty, or a eureka vacuum cleaner. She passes it back to me. And I am looking it, like she was going to give me some tweezers to even make an attempt to smoke. I am sure that I was upset at the time. This was just crazy.

Well, she made herself comfortable, started to disrobe and all. Whatever animosity I had, was gone then. It was that time. So we getting into it, and damn, I never heard any chick that loud up until that point. That does a lot for your ego. I don’t even care if it was faked, shit, let the neighbors hear. I was trying to bang ole girl downstairs for a minute. What better way to entice her. So, we are going at it, and she goes bonkers, just convulsing, it was like a seizure. I am thinking oh no, I think I killed the bitch. Lucky for me, that wasn’t the case. However, she peed on me. This fool peed on me, so I’m like;
“Yo, what the hell? You peed on me, what type of shit is you on?”

She says to me;

“Nah baby, when the dick is that good, I can’t control it, I squirt when the dick is good like that, c’mon, c’mon.”

“Nah yo, you peed on me, the bed, what the fuck?!”

Now, I am fucking skeptic. I never seen that shit before then. So, you know I am sitting there sniffing the shit, I am trying to find out if this was urine. I mean come on, she had drank my liquor up, debo’d the weed. And now, the final insult is to piss on me. I had watched many a porno, and I never saw that shit. This was before people were even on the internet twenty four seven. It didn’t smell like piss, thank goodness, but I still had my doubts. I was 5 minutes from calling up an older cousin to find out if they knew anything about this phenomenon, but they would tell me that I was pissed on, just to fuck with my head. And on the strength of that, her cab would have been called. Ah, being young and dumb.

So, after the sniff tests, and the fact that the cooch was pretty much banging, we continue. So, ole girl is flipped over, and it’s the big bang. Shit starts getting louder, and louder. I really wish camera phones were out then. So, it is on. The fact that she was just loving this was good enough for me. I am making fuck faces like I was in a porno. I am having a good time back there to say the least. But, something happened. The bun she had rolled up in her hair, um, it popped off, and fell behind the bed. So while I am back there, doing my best Ron Jeremy impersonations, her real hair, decided to jump off the back of her head, and run under the bed. I mean, what could she say? The fact that I had a deep belly laugh, didn’t help matters any.

That threw me off a few strokes. And we weren’t playing golf. But, I did get a hole in one.

Weed Chronicles

My dude Dre, there is no way I can ever leave this dude out of any weed story. This dude and I were like the blues brothers or something. What I find funny now is that we met at the drug testing center for the job we were both going for. We were going for a job fueling planes at the airport. At the time, that money was really good money. So it was a good look. I had given up smoking for maybe a month, and for maybe two weeks I was drinking golden seal in big assed cups. I was already working at the airport washing planes, so I always made a cup of golden seal tea to drink at night during lunch. This is before the drug tests got sophisticated and what not.

But I got the heads up on this fueling job so the smoking had to be cut down dramatically. So I go to this testing center, and I am outside talking with some dude, sharing a cigarette. He tells me his boy is in there taking the test. I know the dude from somewhere. He is from my area, so we start talking about the folks we know, who is doing this and that now. It was all good, we laughing over a lot of shit. He tells me that his boy Dre used his piss for the test. I’m like damn, wish I would have thought of that, but I am not too thrilled about holding another dudes piss.

My girl at the time had given me a ride to the spot, but had to bounce for work, so I was basically stuck there. This dude Dre gave me a ride back to the hood. Fast friends, we both had bags with us, and it was time to get some blunts. And we were pretty much inseparable after that. Man, listen we smoked so much that it was like a cheech and chong movie. We had so many damn crazy things happen. At least crazy and funny to me. I find humor in almost anything.

In those times, around 1996, 1997, weed was good. There were actual goods out to find out about. Not like it is now. There was pep, cambo, body bag, real chocolate thai, bubble gum, old golden, so much shit. I always on my day off would go uptown to a smoke shop, and cop some goods. There was a spot on Lexington avenue that only sold fat assed bags of chocolate, nickel bas of chocolate at that. I would buy 20, and make a killing in 5 minutes, and I was good. But that chocolate was some good shit. Good enough to cross back over the pond, and sell for 15 bucks a pop. Those were good times indeed.

Dre and me would do some silly shit. One time we were bored out of our mind, and decided to go to New York to get some goods. Now the thing is that we were already fucked up, drunk, high, just straight bugging out. We get to the toll booth, and before we get to the teller, I was like “yo, we work for the airport, these id’s say port authority, we don’t have to pay shit.” I didn’t know how it would really go down, but shit, we showed the badges, and we went through scott free. We did that shit numerous times after that. Until 9/11, I was doing it, and it worked all the time. I still have that ID too, too bad the shit don’t work now.

The first time we did it, we get up in the city, and we go right to the spot. This was the first time we smoked this shit called body bag. Oh my damn, this shit was the ultimate weed ever at that time, to us, anyways. We were driving around, but I would swear that I was riding on the hood like an ornament. I do not think I have smoked some shit like that since then. We got paranoid and started wondering if the shit was laced or some shit. We tried to go back to the shop to question these motherfuckers on what was in this shit. But, the thing is that, we forgot where the hell the spot was. We sitting in the truck yelling out shit arguing;

“it was on a hill nigga, a big assed hill,”
“there aint no hills in the bronx,”
“yes there is, lenox hill”
“who the fuck is lenox?”
“probably the nigga that sold us this weed”
“lets call that nigga”
“where he at?”
“on the hill yo”
“fuck it, lets go”

That was the actual conversation. So we bounce, because we are officially fucked up. And he was more than I am, because at that time, I didn’t drink really. He stays with a beer in his lap, even while driving. I wasn’t concerned with safety then anyways. Now, this is the new york city, before it was revamped. 42nd street was filled with all types of porno shops, and peep shows. This dude is a porn aficionado, or was, or whatever. He says, we should go to one of them shops. So, fuck it, we in one of them joints, I forget the name, but it had a lot of big lights. While we in there, I’m walking around, I am checking out some flicks and all. My things is that, I am a very cheap person at times. I couldn’t see myself buying a twenty dollar vhs tape, porn or no porn. Wasn’t gonna happen, I would rather spend twenty five cents on the peep show with a live bitch than spend that dough on a porn that I would never see the end of. So, we are in this place for close to a half an hour. When I seen Dre at 11:05 he was looking at the cover of a tape. I roam around, and go back to the isle he was at around 11:12, he was still looking at the same tape cover. I don’t think anything of it. I then again roam around, and I don’t really see anything worth buying, but I caught the 3 for $20 deal, and I copped those tapes. I go back to my dawg to show him at 11:30, he is still looking at the same tape cover. I go up to him, I say, “Yo” he drops the tape and had the most lost look on his face. He didn’t say shit for maybe two minutes. I mean he had to blink this way out of his daze. This nigga did not know what the hell the problem was. All he said was;

“I do not even know what I was looking at, I wasn’t sleep, I was just stuck, I couldn’t move. We need to go find the spot with that body bag and cambo again, like right now”

I’m game nigga. I was trying to get where he was. Our high asses already had shit, but we still went on a high ass forgetful search. None of it fruitful. I have too many stories with this dude, and the others we fucked with. So this a weed chronicle.

The Weed Chronicals

Holy shit!!!! There is a slight possibility that I have brain damage. Being that I now work for myself, I have a lot of time to sit back and think. Actually, I have enough time to sleep, drink and smoke weed. I don’t smoke that often, but in hopes of stopping the drug of nicotine, it comes in handy. I am one of those people that gets bored of things very quickly. That includes people too. There was a time when I had to smoke weed. I mean, I just had too. I don’t know what it was. Looking back, that was all bullshit. When people say that now, I think it’s crazy. I used to smoke maybe ten to fifteen blunts a day at one point. That was in maybe 1996 o 1997, my days of being a so called rap producer. Going to IAR at that time, everyone smoked. Like clockwork, every morning when i walked up the stairs from the train, there was always someone there from school, looking for a light, or just someone to smoke with. Not only was I always late for my first class, I was high a shit and couldn’t even concentrate. When the instructor was lecturing on something, it always sounded like Greek to me. Like, she would say, “turn your book to page one hundred and thirty seven.” It sounded like, bopka babka gyro banga boopa doop.” I figured that I could beat the system, and get a mini tape recorder, to record lectures. But in those days, you smoke, you freestyle, and if I was rhyming, then I was going o record it. No way I was going to waste good tape on something silly like education. I also had a plan of just sitting in front of the class so I could concentrate more, but then I would go into a trance, and get paranoid. I was thinking that someone was looking at the back of my head, and they were using x-ray beams on me, and trying to melt my head.
Smoking weed also helps you make some dumb ass decisions. There was a guy from Mt. Vernon, who I was real cool with. We always had little battles in front of the school or at Washington Square Park. He would always say to me, “yo, you got to come with me to mt. Vernon, meet my boys, they rhyme.” So, of course, “I’m like who are they?” he tells me some group called the warlocks. And I would clown that, and say nah, wasn’t going to fuck with them. Smooth move Flav, weed knowledge strikes again. I know one thing, depending on the quality of the weed determined my paranoia levels. Man, when I was living at home, I would go on the back roof, smoke out, and then go back in, turn my radio on, and just rhyme into a recorder. However, the house was empty on the first and second floors. No one was ever home but me most of the time. But every time when I did this, I would hear, and feel these bangs. It was like BOOM BOOM BOOM! No bullshit, almost every time. Talk about a nigga shook. Now the history of the house was crazy, I know who was living here right before their death, my uncle. And also an old lady died on the second floor, in her rocking chair. In a high assed mind, you don’t know what to do, you just wondering why these damned ghosts have a problem with weed. Come to think of it, I bet they were the ones stealing my bags at some point too. That shit would always have me on edge. I wasn’t foolish enough to go downstairs to see where the noise was coming from.
Not too long ago, I got a visit from my cousin. I haven seen or talked to any family members since the death of our cousin. My depression had returned in a horrible way. I didn’t understand how it did like that. I was okay for maybe a week in July, but one night I looked at his obituary picture, and I went into instant shutdown mode. Anyone that knows of me, knows that I will cut myself off from everything, especially light. Well, anyway. My cousin comes over, bangs on the door. At first I wasn’t going to even answer it. I saw that it was him, walked on the porch and we talked for a bit. We decide to go to his brother’s house, my older cousin, Digg. Lo and behold, we are sitting around shooting the shit about hip hop with Digg’s brother in law. They were sipping on the cognac, and of course I had some hienekens, because hienekens are made with sprinkles of heaven.
So, after his brother in law left, I start looking through my pockets, and found a bag of weed. Some goods, as we like to call it. Dig is like, “well, what are you waiting for, lets get a dutch.” Now, this shocked the shit out of me, because he hasn’t smoked in years. Well, this is an exciting time right now. These are he dudes that I started smoking with as a teenager. It was a long time since we were all together, and sparked one up.

Considering what we had all just went through a couple months prior, I guess it was fitting. I don’t even remember who rolled it. All I know is that once back from the store, it was rolled and ready for action. Ahhhhhhh, it is lit, and its going down. This was a fatty too. So, we are sitting around, passing the damn thing. Ciphers are easy to control with only three heads. I pass the L to my big cuz, and he drops it. We are sitting on his deck. The spaces on the deck are mad wide. Too wide, therefore, wide enough for the only lit 5 minutes ago blunt to fall through onto the ground in a damn leafy area underneath the deck. Holy shit.

Now under the deck was fenced in, so it was necessary tat we had to break part of the fence to get under the deck. My poor cousin who is shorter than Digg and me, was the obvious choice to climb under. The poor guy had to do it, there was no more weed to go around. And this was like a blessing, toast sort of to our deceased cousin. We had to get this L back. I have never laughed so hard up until that point in my life. So here we are, sitting up on the deck, holding lighters, and lights from cell phones, so that my cuz could see where the blunt was at. I was hoping that the he would find it, and feeling like a fiend at the same time. But we had to smoke, together. We just had too. We were the original blunt buddies.

He found it got damnit! Happy and joy. We proceed to smoke. Good times man, it was a long time. Weed can do a few things to you. Didn’t do much to me that night. I was happy to be with my family. I was happy to be with my family, and have it not be after a funeral for the first time in a long time. We do what we always do when we smoke together. We listen to music and freestyle for the rest of the night. I never really saw it as battling, but you can always feel that there is one going on. but nothing ever too hostile. My older cousin introduced me to hip hop, in the purest form. Shit, and smoking weed. Cannot wait to see him again, and tote one for old times sake.