Everyday I'm Hustlin

You have no idea how hard. But it's more than your Grandpa, that's for sure. But maybe not as much as Rick Ross. That dude hustles pretty hard. Hard ass hustling if you will. It's hard to hustle as hard as that gentleman does.

Now play this krunk ass song and read my shit. It makes reading it better when you feel like jigalatin and thinking to yourself that you too in fact, are hustlin everyday.

REAL TALK:
Am I a dreamer? Yessir. I dream all the time. First thing I do before falling asleep is pray for all of my people. I mostly just pray for God to watch over my wife and daughter, and everyone else that's important (family and friends which = a shit ton) to me. That list takes like 25 minutes to run through but it's all good because I love my people. I then thank God for now. For allowing me to have made it this far in my life, because only he knows how many times I literally just gave up in a situation, where I honestly thought this was it for me and told him "Oh God, please take me with you in your arms and let my journey be fearless and easy as I cross over." I think maybe at least 5 times I just accepted my fate that this will be my last minute on this earth BUT it never happened. I thank him for learning to live for more than myself. Then I get to the greedy stuff, the stuff that I almost feel guilty for praying for. But I ask him, can you please shine a light on me tomorrow. Can you let something that I'm good at, be noticed by others. Can you help me find an opportunity to do what I love as far as labor is concerned. Because I've had some SHIT jobs. And a lot of them. I learned a few years ago that I have to start working smarter instead of harder, that's why I'm back at school and hoping to obtain a degree that will allow me to last physically longer than my Dad who worked his ass off and broke his back for his family, or my mom who went to work sick for years, even with Breast Cancer so that she could make it long enough to retire and reap some of the benefits (although not all that fantastic) that she deserves. I pray, NO , Beg...."God, please let me do something I love doing the rest of my life and let it be something that allows me to take care of my family and possibly others that are less fortunate." It's a lot to ask for considering I have so much more than a lot of people. And I also ask that even though my dream is something that some may view as umm 'Anti-Christian", I can still get some points across and the love I have for God is never in question. I think we live in a different time and messages have to be real and relative to what we are facing in the world. So I wake up everyday with this attitude that I'm a sponge. I take in every idea and observe everything and everybody and hope to turn it into something not only humorous, but for it to have an underlying effect that may grant someone else some wisdom inadvertently, and possibly a stroke of faith that will carry them through a tough time. I'm a Christian, but I respect Muslims. I worked with thousands of them and one of my favorite verses from the Qur'an goes something like, "He deserves paradise, who makes his companions laugh." I also believe Jesus to be a man that's not only perfect, but someone that appreciates those of us doing good in the world. I think he smiles when we make another human laugh uncontrollably. So I pray to God every night, to let me be that guy. Let me help change this world by making us all laugh a little bit. Like my best friend Trent...Who I know probably walks besides Jesus because they had a lot in common other than Trent drinking too much, but they both had the purest of hearts. And I sometimes vision Trent and Jesus hanging out on a beach somewhere and Jesus laughing at one of Trent's stories(hopefully telling Jesus about something funny I did, that would rule), even though he already saw it first hand. I feel in my heart, that Jesus wanted Trent early, so that he could hang out with him and admire one of his greatest creations.

OK, so today I almost got pelayed by an effing guy driving a Kia Spectra. I honestly believe if the Kia Spectra would have hit me, it prob would have totaled his car and I would have had a few scratches. But this fucking butt hole honked at me while I was using the crosswalk. Following rules and shit which I never used to do. I'm trying to do the right thing buddy and you fucking honk at me. So instead of it instilling a sense of urgency in me, I just completely stopped what I was doing in the middle of the road and started tying my shoe. In fact, it was already tied, so I untied it and tied it again, then I limped like Jay Cuttler in the 2011 NFCCG the rest of the way.

I used to be such a hot head that had he honked at me say in 1997, I would have jumped on the hood of his car like Mr. Furious from "Mystery Men" and beat the living horse fuck out of his Spectra. 

But.....never mind. I'm not violent and angry(as much) like I used to be. That and I'm already facing one strike for a previous Jaywalking ticket I got a few weeks go. This made me think about what it would be like if I had to go to prison?

So here's a Pro/Con list of what might happen if I ever have to go to the pokey. 

PROS: 
1.) I have a shit ton of tattoos, shaved head, goatee and an overall intimidating look.

 So yeah, maybe I'm not as ripped now at 32 as I was at 29...but Prison would allow me more time in the gym. So yeah.


2.) I have tough skin because I used to get in more fights than Shia LaBeouf.(I'd say my record was like 90-300)

Oh, I got my ass whooped a lot, but I always liked to fight people I didn't think I could beat. One time I got into a fight with Andrew Maggio when I was a freshman in HS and he was a graduating Sr with a full ride to McNeese State (he looks like that dude Dalip Singh from "The Longest Yard")

but he had me on the ground sitting Indian Style banging me on the head like it was a fucking bongo drum. It didn't really hurt me that bad, but it did break his hand so I kind of feel like I won the fight.

3.) Oh, that's about it. I'm pretty much effed in the B-hole, or I'd die trying not to be.  


CONS:
1.) Can't see my family, I'd miss my wife and daughter like crazy. Couldn't even imagine that.
2.) I'm not racist although I do tend to hate white people that act black.

I don't hate them but they annoy the piss out of me. That's so 90's. Now a days you can be yourself. Look at Eminem. He has more street cred than any cracker in the world and he is just himself. Black people respect white people that act normal and still appreciate the great things the African Americans have contributed to our society that are considered "Hip" by today's standards. You can listen to rap, and behind closed doors, day dream that you are a hustler running your block, packing a .380 on your hip and have the homeys paying you dividends on the dime bags they are all selling for you...

but then you need to wake the eff up, put on your KFC uniform and turn your hat back to the front and keep it real with yourself. Don't keep it too real, just keep it the perfect amount of real for your ass.

People respect that. And black people make fun of you when you imitate them because you suck at it and you make them sound ignorant, the ultimate insult. The black dudes in my circle are very bright, super educated individuals and you look like a joke to them. Even some of the best black people impersonators I've seen, are still doing it wrong. Just be who you are. Off topic, but good lesson.

3.)  My next point(still concerning race) I don't hate any race. But I'm probably gonna have to get a fucking Nazi sign tatted on my neck so that the BGF's 

 or the Nortenos or Surenos don't carve me up like a pumpkin. And what kind of shit is it where we have 2 groups of Mexicans in the system fighting for turf. The Nortenos are the Northern Mexicans and they are all Yankees. Very rude people like New Yorkers. And the Surenos are the Southern Mexicans, they are more polite and will invite you over for a glass of ice tea and they all speak to you in public instead of ignoring you like the Nortenos. So maybe I can get a tan and join the Surenos.

Then you have the Asian gangs and since my wife is Pacific Islander, they may give me a pass, or possibly kill me for marrying one of their own. Oh and then I'm fucked again, so now I can't even join the Nazi's or Aryan Brotherhood because I married outside my race. Holy Shit I'm doomed. My best bet would be to befriend a guy in a wheel chair like Augustus Hill from Oz, or maybe since I have Irish roots, I could tattoo more shamrocks and shit on my back and pretend I'm IRA.

4.) Yeah, I could do all of that, but I'm still getting effed in the B. There is no way around it. I fancy myself a warrior, but I don't like prison rules. I think they are unfair that you have to pick a gang based on race instead of things you might have in common. Why can't they have a prison gang that's all about Fantasy Football? Or a gang that likes to have ping  pong tournaments on the reg and they don't kill you for losing, like we used to try to do in Iraq when we lost at table tennis. Why can't they have a gang of regular people like myself that would rather just sit around and tell jokes and make fun of the dudes that dress like hoes and have kool aid for lipstick.

Why can't we just have Madden tournaments, stuff like that?

ALL I KNOW IS THIS THOUGH!

I once went on a tour of the Angola prison for a criminal justice class I was taking at Northwestern back in 99/2000 and while we were there, they were having some discrepancies or a "RIOT" if you will. Anyway, behind some glass there was a man with a balled up wad of his own feces (scientific word for SHIT!) looking one of my friends in the eye (He swears he was looking at me, but I'm way too hard for him to try to punk me) and he told him and I quote: "He would tie his dick to the back of his neck and rub hot sauce on his pussy!" That has absolutely got to be the most barbaric, gay terrorist statement I have ever heard in my life. That's the shit that makes us white dudes not want to go to prison. And the dude looked like Damian OG Triple OG.

Because we know 3 things can happen. We either get shanked or killed the first day because we don't give up our cornbread (or if you're like me, you'll stand up for yourself and get your intestines beat out of you.), we'll become such a bitch where we have to wear make-up and sit down to pee in those nasty ass toilets and eventually hang ourselves with the dirty ass sheets from our bed, or 3, we'll catch a knife in the back because someone blamed us for snitching when all we did was tell the guard that some Cholo named "little joker" or "Smiley" might have stabbed one of his homeys with a box cutter. 

I'd like to think I'd become this Super Bad Ass, that would adapt and overcome (maybe like Andy Dufresne)

And in a lot of cases in this world, I would do just that. But Prison isn't one of them. I have enough sense to know I'm not built for it. So you won't catch me Jaywalking anymore, shit, you won't even catch me littering my gum in the grass once it looses it's flavor. But I'll still talk like a bad ass and tell people that if I had to go, I'd start my own gang and probably be running cell block 4 with MC Gusto.

In my next blog, I will be discussing shit that confuses the hell out of me, and I'll tell the awesome story of how a lady cook that worked on our FOB in Iraq, stabbed NFL Great and Hall of Famer Eric Dickerson in the face with a track shoe, at a track meet in Texas in the early 70's I believe. It was so money. 

Til then, just keeping it realer than your sister who snorts 30mg Roxies on the reg and tells your mom that she needs 25 dollars to get her nails done. And we're gonna see this chick on scared straight on A&E talkin bout "Fuck you guard, you can't physically touch me. Whateva, I do what I won't!"