Quotables from My Hip and Not So Hip Parents and Some Notes On My Twitter

Okay:

My parents had me late. My father was in his forties. My mother was in her late thirties. My father is a stand-up comedian who never happened. Motherfucker is hilarious. And pretty hip, too.

An example.

My daughter's mother called me the spring of my junior in college and told me she was pregnant. It was an out-of-body experience, to say the least. I knew I couldn't tell my mother, and I didn't for some time, actually. But my father was the first person I thought to call.

"Dad," I said. "I think I may have knocked somebody up."

"Wow," he said. Then he took a deep breath. "Well, if she don't scream, you don't holler."

I didn't know exactly what he meant at the time, but it sure sounded cool. Old school pimp shit. I've always respected old school pimp shit.

My mother, on the other hand, has never been hip. Now don't get me wrong. She is the smartest, most resourceful, classiest, most beautifullest woman I know. She's my mamma. And she's a hell of a cook. Or, as my father used to say, "She can cook a pig in fifteen minutes."

She also sews. Back in the seventies, she used to make her own dresses, and then make my father a tie with the leftover material. I imagine they were very cute.

And she can fix a toilet.

Anyways. My mother's not hip though. I was reminded of this just the other day. A little over 10 years ago, someone taught my mother what "da bomb" means. And ever since then, whenever she wants to sound hip while exclaiming her affinity for something or someone, she says it's "da bomb".

The other day we were discussing my finances, or rather my lack thereof. "401K's are 'da bomb'," she said.

One day we were discussing the national debate over gay marriage. "Gays are 'da bomb'," she said.

"Lactaid is 'da bomb'."

"South Africa is 'da bomb'."

And her latest, "Catholicism is 'da bomb'."

(Apparently, she likes the fact that mass is only one hour, and everyone stays relatively calm.)

She's working on incorporating "off da hook" into her daily vocabulary, but I don't think it's gonna take.

Now I'm going home to finish some mixing on a couple of songs. I need to get final drafts to the producers before the end of the week. Remember where to be at midnight on Labor Day.

I haven't been whoring myself all over the Internet for the past month for nothing. I've got a fucking Twitter account and everything now. Fucking Twitter, man.

My good friend Kelli Anderson of http://sojournals.com had been pestering me for months to sign up. I just didn't like the sound of it.

Twitter.

It sounds like a new nickname for coochie. But I'm glad I did it. Wave of the future, man. Twitter is 'da bomb'.


And those videos again.

Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA/BIDEN!


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Innocent Question: Am I the only one who sometimes sprays on the morning's first piss? What's that about when you spray, man? What's going on there?