Know What I'm Saying? Of course you don't...

So I'm thinking about making a rap. I know there are white guys already in the business...like Mac Miller, Marshall Mathers, but you don't get much whiter than this guy (points to self). And since my first and last names are both M, apparently this is my calling. But I need to make a list. If I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna do it right. I'll need:

1. Other Rappers. It's very rare for any rapper to do something on his own, without featuring 20 other rappers. Since there is not a Rapper Outlet, I don't have the first clue about finding one. Yes, I'm aware I work for a radio station, but we're not that kind of format. I think the most realistic thing to do is post something on Craigslist. "Aspiring rapper (white), in search of multiple rappers to feature in my rap. Anywhere from 12 - 20 should do." There's no doubt in my mind this will generate many responses. But I can't just get any rapper to reply. See #2.
2. Rappers with Lil' in their name. The tough part will be weeding out the hundreds of replies I'll most likely receive. If they don't have Lil' in front of their name, they are not credible. It's probably best to add that to the Craigslist post. I will also need to make a video, and will need many things. Like...
3. Expensive cars. I've seen enough rap videos to know these guys love their cars. They love them so much, they don't even drive them, they just stand next to 'em. Any expensive car will do, preferably a Lamborghini, or any car that has doors which are raised up when opened. And if your rims aren't at least 26 inches and don't spin...don't waste my time. We could use my ride, but I roll in a black Nissan Altima coupe...and I've never seen that in any rap video. I need the public to take me seriously.
4. Cristal. We're gonna need plenty of Cristal. It's not for us to drink, just to open up and pour on the ground. I don't understand the point of this, but it's necessary. I searched the internet machine and found these go for about $200 - $400 a bottle. That could be a problem. What if I used a lesser brand of wine? Maybe Boone's Farm. I also have plenty of pop in the house, we could just pour 2-Liters of Pepsi Max, or Diet Orange Crush on the ground. On second thought, I want to be legit, so I'll probably ask each rapper to bring their own. I don't think that's too much to ask. BYOC.
5. Money. And lots of it. Preferably 100 dollar bills. Rappers love to flash their cash. And flashing 5 dollars bills ain't gonna cut it. Unfortunately I'm no help here. Maybe I'll look in the basement, I might have a pair of jeans in the laundry that has like 3 crinkled dollars in it or something. That won't get us far. Not if we want to make it in this business.
6. Baggy pants. If you plan on keeping your pants up, you're in the wrong place. These need to be half way down your ass, because that's how it's done. I think black or camo cargo pants will work best. And I'm sure I don't have to tell you this (or maybe I do) but please wear some type of underwear, or boxers. I don't need a bunch of bare-assed idiots running around the set, show some class please.
7. Women. I really don't think there's a limit to the amount of women we can have in our video. However, the women must be limber, and be able to roll around on our expensive cars. Short, tight outfits are a must. And if you're open to getting sprayed with a garden hose, that is also a plus. And last but not least...
8. Bling. Bring it all. I need you as blinding as possible. If you've got gold in your teeth, we need that. If you have a giant watch that has a face the size of a manhole cover, perfect! Rings? Hopefully you have them...on every finger. And how could I possibly forget chains. I want you wearing so many chains that they weigh your body down. Don't go overboard, what I don't need is a slew of hunched over rappers. We'd be the laughing stock of the hip-hop community. Please note: You will get extra consideration should you have one or more medallions. At multiple times during this video, the camera will be on you, and you'll be required to hold it up at various times, for no apparent reason what-so-ever.

Now I just have to pen my rap. As I sit here with a pad of legal paper, surrounded by crumpled up paper balls, I'm finding this harder than I originally anticipated. I know I need to include the words "yeah" and "uh" about 60-75 times, while throwing in the occasional combination: "yeah, uh uh uh". That should get my point across well. I'm also aware that I have to inform people that I "know what I'm sayin'". I mean, even though I know, you may not know what I'm saying at all. Plus I was born in Chicago, but grew up in the suburbs. I think "on the streets of Mount Prospect" sounds compelling and believable. This information will no doubt be useful to you. I'm sure something I rap about will be humorous...to me...so I'll have to add in some "ha ha ha's". Since this is my first rap, I have no enemies in the hip-hop community, but it's just a matter of time, so I'll need to choose who I diss carefully. And as long as I remember to repeat my own name at least half a dozen times, all the rest will fall in to place.

Peace out, gangstas. Much luv to Big Poppa.

I Put Leftover Food In Plastic Containers...

Brace yourselves --> I found myself in a situation recently where I needed an item from the store. Yes I know, how compelling. HOWEVER, what makes this a "situation" is that it was past 10pm, and the Target was closed. (Bum, bum, bummmmm) Therefore, I found myself faced with the terrifying realization that my only other option was to drive over to Wal-Mart. I realize that I probably could've waited until the morning, but being a person of very little patience, ain't nobody got time for that. Not to mention the fact that I'm always up for making fun of people different than me, and I have no doubt this place is riddled with 'em. And please keep in mind, this is Wal-Mart I'm going to, it's not like I have to get all fancied up. Who do I have to impress? I know you've seen some of these people. In fact, I purposely picked out the shittiest thing I could find and threw it on, knowing full well that I'd still be the best dressed person there. Even as I pulled up and in to the lot, I spotted three people walking out in their pajamas. Pajamas. Yeah I know it's late and all, and it's Wal-Mart, but no one wants to see you in faded Spongebob Squarepants pajamas, which were obviously left in the dryer too long. Seriously, who wears this out...in public. Is everything else you own currently stuffed inside your washing machine? Have some self-respect, man. I should've turned my ass around, gone home, and rocked myself to sleep in a corner, but no...I'm here for a reason.

As soon as I walk in, the very first section is the produce. Unfortunately, I don't smell fruit, just menthol cigarette smoke. Lovely. Or maybe scientists finally found a way to combine hand fruit with Newports, and I just missed the memo. Regardless, it smells like shit. And while I'm thinking about it, why is this place so goddamn crowded? It's like a night club in here. It's 11pm, and a Thursday. Do any of you people work tomorrow? Or is that just a stupid question? Probably a stupid question. And it's not just the shoppers that frighten me, it's the employees. Why is it that a majority of these workers look like they own a 1970's van with blood stained carpeting? There was actually one point where I was convinced I recognized one of them from To Catch A Predator. Oh look, an overweight woman in the cookie aisle, and she's dragged her dozen kids along with her. First of all, why aren't these kids at home sleeping? I'll tell you why, because you've managed to stuff your cart with 3 different brands of "Chips Ahoy!", and 1 of the packages is open. This is why your kids aren't asleep, lady...and the reason I have to deal with them now. This might also explain why this place is such a friggin' mess. You have 65 people working, yet no one is cleaning. Please do something about this. Finally, the area I need, on the far end of this shithole. And just when I think things couldn't get any worse....they do NOT have what I need. Motherffff -- you know what? I'm outta here. But wait, I seem to be tempted by a bag of beef jerky before I hit the door. I'd love to pay for it, but I'm not sure which one of these freaks is the cashier, they appear to be dressed in pajamas too, but blue and khaki colored ones. Maybe this is a store requirement? Pajamas only. If so, I need to be removed, immediately. Do I go to register 8, where the 106 year old woman is holding things down? Actually, now that I start to study her with my head titled, it's possible she could be a corpse. I don't even think the couple in front of me buying diapers, milk and leggings even notice she hasn't blinked at all. Probably safe to bring it down to register 12, this girl with the gold chains and tear drop face tattoo seem to have it together. Should I be surprised that I don't get a "hello?" She could have at least axed me if I found everything ok. To which I would have held up my bag of Jack Links and replied, "What do you think?" Maybe it's best not to engage her in any type of conversation, just scan my teriyaki beef jerky and let me get the hell out of here. Just when I think I'm in the clear, I have one last barrier to pass...there's a guy who needs to check my bag (it has one thing in it), to make sure I don't have a 55 inch plasma stuffed inside of it. Totally understandable. But for real, please let me go home, so I can shower, and then come back here never.

FYI - Target opens at 8am. This kind of shit doesn't happen there.  

Peace out, homies.

I usually order coffee, from coffee shops..

Rewind back to Memorial Day weekend...

I'm watching food network, and hating on Twitter. Not only did they suspend my account this past Friday afternoon, it's now Monday evening, and I'm still locked out. Apparently the CEO closed the office doors early Friday afternoon due to the holiday. I'm sure all 141 employees (Yes, I looked it up) enjoyed his gratitude. CEO: "Alright everyone, it's Friday, and I run the company, so get the hell outta here for the weekend!" Amidst the cheers, one bold [nerd] worker says: "But Mr. Costolo (Yes, I looked it up) what about all those accounts we just suspended?" Of course by the time the nerd is done asking his question, the CEO's chair is already empty, just spinning around. Gone. Buh-bye. Although ideally this would be a great treat for employees, start the weekend early, hit the bars and get a head start on being stupid. Unfortunately, it sucks donkey balls for customer service. I don't know if you've been through this shit storm before, but basically they suspend your account without warning, then you have to email "customer support", which prompts a stupid automated generic response back to you, then you have to reply back to the stupid automated generic email and say that you read and comply with all the rules and regulations. The best part is that they don't ever reveal what you did! What is this, Nazi Germany? Here's the deal, I've had my Twitter account now for exactly 2 months, and this is THE 3rd time this has happened. Look, Twitter's annual sales are 19.9 million dollars (Yes, I looked it up). Are you telling me that they can't afford to pay some pimple faced fool an extra $12/hour to reinstate my account. What would that take, like 5 seconds? That's comes out to 1.6 cents. I’m pretty sure I fucked up the math, but who cares…either way Mr. Costolo, your company would survive. Asshole. Seriously, what am I, 10 years old? We're suspending you. Ohhhhhh, ok. What's next, taking away my t.v privileges? Listen bub, you are not the boss of me.

 

Meanwhile, I'm sitting here with no account, forced to do things that non twitter people do, like poke people on facebook. Have you noticed they’ve added "poke suggestions"? Is this a necessary feature? I’m already "poking" like 3-5 people on a regular basis, I don’t think I’m budgeted for any more than that. Imagine getting constantly poked like that in real life, odds are you would punch that person directly in the face. And why does my facebook timeline look different every 4 days? I think Zuckerberg wakes up at like 10am, and his first order of business is to A) Send someone to get him a Venti skinny white chocolate mocha. And B) Send an email out that simply says, "Change something." And while I'm on a facebook rant, can people stop sending me the following things:

• Invites to places I'll never go. (Because I'm busy, and honestly...I don't give a shit.)
• Requests to your birthday calendars.  (Doesn't facebook already keep track of this? I don’t need a back-up, it’s not like I’m getting you a gift.)
• Full length movies on Flixster. (Does this really need an explanation?)
• A new daughter. ( Cos i already have the bestest one ever) <----This was a hack, I was doing dishes.
• Game invites. (Sims Social, Bingo Bash...seriously, how did you ever become my friend?)

Also, what's with all the shoe tags? There are shoes, mostly high top Nikes, constantly in my timeline with people I know tagged in them. This confuses me. And if it confuses me, I don't like it. And that list of people that I "may know", are people I won't ever know. Such as, a local towing company, which has 17 mutual friends in common with me. I seriously have 17 friends that enjoy the local towing company so much, that they are friends with it on facebook. What are the compelling status updates? "Dispatcher called in sick tonight.", or "Heading out to a call." Unless you’re the guy in the truck, or the person he's going to pick up, no one else should be “liking” that? Or even commenting on it: "Hope it goes well, local towing company."  

It's now 7:15am Tuesday morning, and I'm still locked out. Are the Twitter people back at work yet? Their headquarters are in San Francisco (Yes, I looked up). What time is it there, 5:15am? I'm sure no one is in the office yet, except for the cleaning crew. Hmmm, maybe they can help me.

It’s officially noon on Tuesday afternoon now, and still no word. I'm assuming Costolo gave his people an extra floating holiday. Thanks, dick.

Ohhhhhhh, finally at 1:24pm, the automated response from the so-called Twitter help desk: 

Hello,

Your appeal has been reviewed and your account is scheduled for unsuspension within 24 hours. You may wish to review the Twitter Rules, located at twitter.com/rules.

Thanks,
Support

Once again, thanks for being so specific, Support (if that is your real name). Appreciate you staying on top of this situation and then getting back to me over 4 days later. And I love how it says within 24 hours.  That’s cool, no problem, I’ve already waited over 100, what’s another 24?! Here, allow me to translate the above in Twitter language:

Douchebag,

Your appeal was reviewed 10 minutes after it came through. However, we all left for the weekend to go get shitfaced. Hey, don't be pissed at Support, our CEO told us to do it. What are we supposed to say, no? Oh, if we remember on Tuesday...or maybe even Wednesday (if we chose not to call in sick Tuesday), your account should be scheduled for unsuspension within 24 hours. And when we say 24 hours, that means whenever we get around to it. You may wish to review the Twitter Rules, located at twitter.com/rules. Maybe if you did that, we wouldn't have to take away your account like a fucking 2 year old.

Thanks,
Support

And the saga continues on Wednesday morning, 6:45am. Exactly 17 hours and 41 minutes after being promised a release within 24 hours from Twitter jail. I'm thinking I need to hire Jose Baez, or Jackie Chiles to represent me. What is it that takes 24 hours exactly? A couple clicks of a mouse to highlight @MikeMason830 and then click unsuspend. Sure, I can see the extreme difficulty in that. Smh.

9:24am - Going on 20 hours, now. I've got a coffee mug, and clanging it against my prison bars.  

10:24am - Just hit the 21st hour. Making a list (on toilet paper) of potential candidates that could bring me a cake with a nail file in it. 

11:24am - Debating on renting the 1st season of Prison Break...for pointers.

12:24pm - With just 1 hour to go, I'm regretting not asking Morgan Freeman for a rock hammer and a giant poster of Katy Perry. I could've tunneled my ass outta there by now. Fail.

1:30pm - My release time has come & gone, still on lockdown. However, a bus has arrived to transport me & a few other prisoners to another location. There's a guy here with a beard, who looks eerily similar to Harrison Ford. Keeps proclaiming his innocence, something about a guy with 1 arm. Apparently no one believes him...neither do I. Hopefully the bus ride goes smooth. 

3:41pm - Bus ride did not go well. Prisoners hatched a scheme to get loose, bearded Harrison Ford guy got away, being chased by a guy with lots of wrinkles on his face. Unfortunately, it's 2+ hours past my release and still behind bars. Kinda wish I had followed that fugitive guy.



7:00pm - Gazing out my window onto the yard, the prison yard that is. Thinking about how far down it is, and maybe I could make it if I tied some sheets together. Mental note - make friends with that guy who works in laundry. The one with those tear drops tattooed under his eye. He looks friendly.

9:32pm - Over 32 hours before I was promised release from captivity. Now there's word the Warden has called for a surprise shakedown. I'm pretty sure I don't have any contraband, but I think I may accidentally pissed off the Mexican Mafia the other day, so I'm keeping 2 shanks. No wait, he's burly...3 shanks.

5:29am -Slept with one eye open last night. Attempted to make nice with the convict from laundry (Butch), but discovered he does not play well with others. Fearing for my life, I hope to be out of Twitter jail soon.

8:07am - Email alert from so-called Twitter help desk:

Hello,

Your appeal has been reviewed and your account is scheduled for unsuspension within 24 hours. You may wish to review the Twitter Rules, located at twitter.com/rules.

Thanks,
Support

Well that's funny, looks EXACTLY like the one they sent me Tuesday afternoon at 1:24pm. Is it possible I am being punked? Or maybe it's Groundhog Day? If so, where are Bill Murray & Andie McDowell. Let me once again translate the above in to Twitter language:

Douchebag,

What did you not understand about our previous message? Yes, your appeal was reviewed right away. However, when we say within 24 hours, we don't always mean that. In fact, we wanted our generic responses to read, "whenever the hell we want", but our CEO thought that sounded too dickish. You may wish to review the Twitter Rules, located at twitter.com/rules. Or maybe you should find something else to do with your life. Seriously, wasn't it just in the 90's where you are? Go outside. 

Thanks,
Support

9:56am - Being given 1 hour of rec-time. Choosing not to lift weights in the yard, don't feel safe. Wondering if this is how Jack Bauer felt when he was kidnapped by the Chinese.

10:31am - Frustration growing by the second. Almost to the point where I start throwing feces at the guards.

11:09am - Haven't shaved in almost a week; beard is so long...I think there might be a bird living in it. At this point, he would be the only one I trust. I shall name him Gary.

12:37pm - Tired of prison food, nothing but gruel. Might trade an inmate some cigarettes for a candy bar. But I don't smoke, so that's a problem.

1:24pm - Exactly 48 hours since Twitter "support" authorized my release...yet, I am still locked behind bars. Have not seen the outside world in so long, I'm sure a new iPhone has already been released.

4:48pm - Refuse to eat, bread is soggy. Craving Portillos, or anything that doesn't taste like complete shit.

8:21pm - Lights out. Bed is so uncomfortable, and smells of urine. I don't belong here.

..yet another day passes..

Friday, 3:02pm - Officially passed the week mark. Guards found some contraband hidden behind the toilet, tried to explain to that the narcotics weren't mine. However, they know I have a weakness for Luden's cough drops. Ordered to go in the hole, I for sure won't last more than a day in there. Hopefully I won't miss another generic email reply from Twitter "support".

Monday, June 11th - Still in the hole, conditions are wretched.

Thursday, June 7th, 7:14am - 3 more days have passed, must've blacked out. Still in the darkness, refuse to beg for mercy. Mercy is for the weak, learned that from a Cobra Kai sensei, his name was John Kreese.

Friday June 8th, 1:08am - FINALLY, the official release from Twitter arrives:

Hello,

It looks like this issue has been resolved. If you are still experiencing this issue, please open another ticket. 

Thanks,
Twitter Trust and Safety

Ohhh, so now the Twitter Trust and Safety people are involved. What are they, like the Supervisors? They probably share a cubicle space with Twitter Support, and having a good laugh about my misfortune.

Regardless, big shout out to "Twitter Trust and Safety" for getting me up and running exactly ONE WEEK after my initial lockdown. I'm glad I did not ask them for anything more important, like a kidney. I'd be dead by now.

TTYL!

my daughter is my favoritest person everrrr . <3 <3 <3 <---yet another hack by the ginger.

My garbage gets picked up once per week..

So Sunday was Earth Day, yo. I'm sure you had some bad ass celebration. Per Wikipedia, better known as the website we hit up for rock solid intel, Earth Day is defined as a day held worldwide to increase awareness and appreciation of the Earth's natural environment.  Apparently this been going on since 1970. I mean, who knew? Probably everyone. Besides me...and Earth. Part of me can't help feel a little sad for the planet we all reside on, because this round giant has zero clue it has it's own day. If I were a planet and didn't know I had an entire day (let alone week) named after me, I'd be a little miffed. Who would Earth even take that up with?!  Maybe try the same group of nerds people that broke the news to Pluto that it wasn't really a planet. That event, in itself, is both sad, and comical.  It's sad because imagine getting discovered in 1930, then 76 years later, you find out you're not who you really are...that's like some Dateline shit. Give that assignment to Keith Morrison, he'll knock it out of the park in the creepiest of ways.  Or better yet, Maury Povich. Maury: "Pluto, you are NOT a planet". (Crowd roars, people on stage fall over, Pluto rolls offstage). You get it. And the only reason it's comical, is because I'm kind of an ass.

                  

What about the other planets, you know they're all making fun of Pluto, poor bastard. Seriously, planet bullying, will it ever end? And I know I may be stereotyping here, but you know damn well the ring leader is Jupiter, he's the biggest one. Oh, you have a great red spot? So do genital herpes. Jupiter is a whore.

And what's the deal with Saturn? What is that, a frisbee? It's a shame it's not a habitable planet, because it seems like party land central. And odds are, I'd get drunk there.

I really know nothing of Neptune, besides the fact that's it blue, and cold as shit.

I wonder if Uranus has any idea we've been making fun of it for so many years. And not just that, every single joke has to do with our assholes.  Uranus has no credibility.

Then there's Mars, the "red planet". Either it has anger issues, or it needs to see an allergist. And if there are so called "Martians" occupying the planet, why don't they show themselves? The planet dates back like 4,000+ years, they've had plenty of time to make friends. In other words, I don't trust it. Mars is like France.

Venus, your name rhymes with penis. And if I figured that one out, I'm sure your friends up there did too.

As for Mercury, you may be the first in line, pal...but your shit is too hot for anyone other than you. This is the reason no one lives with you. Your selfishness is your downfall, and you'll most likely die alone.   

With that being said --> suck it, other planets. Earth is awesome.