oh, ho. what's the story, party people? i'm locked out of my friends pad (south bronx represent) so i'm here chillin with sterling at her place of work. soon to be ex place of work, as i have a proud and hallowed tradition of getting bitches fired. so here i am now, entertain me! that's right, sterling. big reading over my shoulder with one eye half open! don't front with that "you need to get up now" shit. i don't see your nameplate on this swank ass aeron chair.

what i've been able to scam from corporate america thus far: software. a box of 40 OB tampons and bumble and bumble hair shit from the bathroom. three handfuls of single serve timothy's world coffee (french roast and french vanilla). a couple of boxes of those light blue pilot precise V7 pens that i adore so. a stack of yellow steno pads, the kind my dad used to cover with his loopy ass prose. more software. blank CD-Rs (i'm making mixes for y'all), pink post-its, two glue sticks, some serious heavy-ass-gouge-a-motherfucker's-lung-out-metal scissors. a "while you were out" phone message book, complete with yellow carbon copy pages.

did i mention software?

the crunch-crunch of the carbon copy brings me back to the days of soap erasers and blue xerox "ditto paper" that got you a little bit high if you sniffed it hard enough.

you best believe i was sniffing with all my might, party people.


wah lee