Well it's been a while since I just caught you up on regular everyday life & just said Yo! So, Yo! Right now I'm presently not in Vegas with the rest of the streetwear industry that I so willingly sold my soul to, because I'm sick off my ass, and who do I blame? My right hand man, well she's not a man, but my addiction to raging with one of my very bests has landed me in bed only accompanied by meds & vitamins. How did this happen you ask? Let me break it down for ya...
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We hit the do over every Sunday like clockwork, it's just a time to unwind & a reason to drink our previous hangover off while the sun's still out...
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She brings me big gulps full of vodka while I'm supposed to be working, just to take the edge off.
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We recite vulgar & explicit rap lyrics to each other like it's our religion & we're oh so faithful.
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She rocks the shit out of my designs, because real friends support your grind.
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We take pictures of couples who are bumpin & grinding in the Hollywood streets from the fire escape & post them on the Internet.
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We solve the eternal problem of "the munchies" with over-dosing on sushi, but only to bread our stomachs so the vodka has something to settle into later on.
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We argue over who gets to wear the most comfortable flannel that's ever been made, even if it mean she wears it during the day & I rock it at night.
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We smoke massive amounts of marijuana while listening to Bob Marley & I wait for her to yet again try to convince me that he sort of resembles octomom.
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& when I get all better, we'll do that shit all over again. Hey, what are friends for?? Right?!?