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Smh utsa
I kindly enter through the front door and noone even pays attention to my cracka arse. The black, hispanic and asian girls all turn their attention to the hung niggra that just appeared from the kitchen.....holding a marijuana joint in one hand, and some schlitz malt licka in the other. Man did I feel like pure dirt, because noone offered me anything to drink other than a glass of whole milk. Well, they did give me a bowl of Mac n Cheese........damn that was delicious. Anyhow, after my meal..... I tried to get a few numbers from the hotties at the party.....but sadly I ended up at home, in the corner, rubbing one out with my own tears.
Smh utsa
didn't you tell them about your fawtbox column?
Been in that situation many times back in the day, I've even been to...The Jungle...in Olongopo Phillipines. The key is being able to dance. If you can't boogie you don't belong there.
yep...dancin is the key...
Went to a slammin house party in Mogadishu...well, not really a house...but the music is bumpin...I walk in...all eyes on me...I'm not scared...I give a nod to everyone...hit the floor with a little shuffle I made up...within a few seconds I go to hard core grinding...dark chocolate honeys surrounding me...are the locals mad?....no...they recognize...maybe a little put off by me leaving with three of their panthers...but they respect
I'm black on the inside and blacks seem to sense that. I have no business in this white skin. A curse.
we're all just people man...
me: "I like fried chicken and funk music"
them: "what are you? black?"
me: "no man...just human...just human"
them: "we hate you"
me: (walking away) "your loss"
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