You Think You Know, But You Have No Idea.....

This is the Diary of R. Michael Hicks the 1^st (Or just Mike, if you want to be a dick about it)

FRIDAY, JUNE 22 6:45am:

I watched game 5 last night between OKC and Miami. OKC Lost. That happened. Lebron finally got his ring. That also happened. It still hasn't completely sunk in how incredibly pissed off I am about something that shouldn't matter so much to a 32 year old man with an awesome sex drive and better than average testosterone levels for a guy my age, not to mention all the other huge blessings I have in my life. But still, it boils my blood and this anger/pain reaches down to the deepest depths of my soul. It makes me want to go Jose Canseco on a random Miami Stripper. On top of this unexplainable anger, I have to deal with Tommy and Mickey's punk asses rubbing it in. This may very well be the end of “Sons of Dads” because I'm now deleting both of them off of my Facebook, Twitter, Speed Dial, E-mail contact list and just for good measure and in case they try to get a hold of me using such primitive methods, I'm deleting them off of Myspace as well. So badly I want to grab a megaphone and climb to the top of the Burj Khalifa in Dubai and make an incredibly hate driven speech that would make Mel Gibson look like Jesus(Ironically), that ends with me saying “I hate you, I hate you, I don't even know you but I hate your guts. I hope all the bad things in life happen to you and only you!” 

FRIDAY, JUNE 22 Later that afternoon:

OK, I forgive Tommy and Mickey for being Punk Ass, Pecker Headed, LBJ Penis Riders. Sons of Dads will now have a reunion and we're back together stronger than ever. I have now sent both of them friend requests and put them back in my phone contact lists. It's probably gonna be a while before I can let them back on my twitter though. I mean I can forgive people for rooting against the team I'm rooting for, but I'm only human and it's hard to just totally forget. That will eventually come with time. Also, of special note, Mariah just took one of those gooey, nasty shits that you can't justify by any description I could possibly give you, but I will say it's gonna take 345 baby wipes to get rid of this mess. Melissa is at Zumba shaking her beautiful ass to Puerto Rican music so congratulations Miguel Hicks, you get to wipe your daughters ass.

SATURDAY, JUNE 23 6:55am:

Woke up feeling very good physically this morning. I mean, my legs feel like rubber, I have no back or neck pains and I have this feeling of youthful exuberance that I probably haven't felt in weeks, maybe years. I walk outside to breathe in the warm summer air and decide to run across the street to see if I can dunk on my neighbors basketball goal. I mean, perhaps there is some magic coursing through my veins since I'm feeling so great at this moment. Surely I can still dunk. 

This pretty much ruins the rest of my day, but I do decide to download the song 1979 by the Smashing Pumpkins because 1.) I was born that year and 2.) This song kicks more ass than Josh Quayhagen. My Saturday is a wash because I'm not as young and strong as I think I am, but I do love that song at least.

SUNDAY, JUNE 24 1:53pm:

I'm at work. This is perhaps the 1^st Sunday I've worked in a very long time, so it feels weird. The day actually goes by pretty smoothly and as far as work goes, it was a very decent day....especially considering how much I hate work, of any kind. So that was a good thing.

5:20pm: On my way home and I stop by the Wal Marks to buy some scrimps. As I'm walking down the aisle that has all the ketchup's and mustard's etc. I overhear 2 gentlemen discussing their respective trucks. I hear the fat one tell the fatter one and I quote, “I've discussed this issue with my wife AB Nausea!”.....I let out a huge LOL and didn't tell either one of them why. But I was thinking “Ad Nauseam, shit-head!” It's Latin. Less focusing on the condition of your mud flaps and more reading of the education books, homes. And you're good!

MONDAY, JUNE 25:

Fuck Mondays! After realizing “Fuck Monday!” I proceed to go out and find my dad so that I can blow the shit out of him 64 times with the coolest iPhone Application ever invented. Boobies were a well built, very innovative and genius invention created by God, and historically I think as a society we've all agreed that titties are the best invention ever. They still are, but God also came through HARD with the Action Movie Ap for the iPhone that allows me to blow up Red on the reg. 

TUESDAY, JUNE 26 7:33am:

While again calling in a fire mission on Red and thinking to myself how awesome this is, it occurs to me that people sometimes say “This is the greatest invention since sliced bread.” ….Well what a stupid fucking expression! Here are just a few random things that I can think of off the top of my head that easily trump the invention of sliced bread.

BOOBIES > Sliced Bread

BLOWING UP RED > Sliced Bread

FOOTBALL > Sliced Bread

BEER > Sliced Bread

MONEY > Sliced Bread

ALVIN AND THE CHIPMUNKS > Sliced Bread

HELADOS MEXICAN POPSICLE(in any flavor from Strawberry, Coconut, Mango, Peach etc.) > Sliced Bread

Pretty much an ass ton of inventions kick the shit out of sliced bread. You better ask somebody!

WEDNESDAY JUNE 27:

Argued with Blake Morrison like a couple of fuckin Guido douchetards on facebook over who works out the hardest. I think I probably do because I update my status everyday and let all of y'all know that I'm at the gym and quite frankly, he doesn't. So obviously I win. Anyway, we can discuss this issue Ab Nausea and I'm always gonna win, because that's what I do. I win. And I act brand new with my iPhizzle for shizzle. 

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON:

While leaving work, I just barely dodge an attack by the Soviets after they dropped a few bombs danger close at my location as I was pulling out of my work parking lot. 

After barely scraping by that terrible situation, as I'm driving on the interstate on my way home, a fucking Dodge Caravan comes rolling out of nowhere and I drove underneath it like Will Smith and Martin did in Bad Boys II when they were trying to save Martins sister (played by Gabrielle Union) from that crazy Hatian gang the Zoe Pound. 

If not for my legendary quick reflexes and my awesome Jordan XII Retros, I wouldn't be here writing this blog today. Thank God for you guys, I'm still alive.

THURSDAY JUNE 28...TODAY:

The day is still young, so instead of documenting what already happened, I will tell you what will happen on the reg, probably for the rest of my life.

I will blow up my dad.

I will check in at Mercy Fitness Center on facebook and continue to brag about how hard I go and how Blake is 8 words – very very very soft, terry terry terry cloth. 

I will continue to blow up Instagram with pics of my gorgeous baby daughter Mariah. 

Pretty much, anything you people have been doing with your iPhone's and Androids for the past 5+ years, that's what I'm gonna do now until the wheels fall off. I'm Brand New Beiotch!

Now for a moment of silence as I remember my old phone. We've been through a lot of battles together buddy and I'll always love you. We've stuck it out through many states and even Continents. Many good times, bad times and scary times...and I will never forget any of that. But the bottom line (besides not being able to even see the screen anymore because you're as old as Saturday Night Live) is that you can't blow up Red. You can't tell the world how hard I work out and wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle yeah, at the Gymnasium. And you damn sure can't play draw something with my wife or my niece Lyndsie on the reg. Ultimately you just aren't a “Smart” Phone. I don't want to say you were a dumb phone, but I guess I'll just say my iPhone scored a 36 on his ACT's and you only got like a 15. 

                                   RIP Old Friend! 

Keeping it realer than your big cousin Craig that doesn't draw pictures while he's playing “Draw Something”....he just spells out the actual phrase, even though you've told him Ab Nausea not to cheat and to be legit!

DISCLAIMER: Sons of Dads really didn't break up for 3 hours just because punk ass Lebron James won a ring. And Red is still alive. Those aren't real explosions I'm using to blow him up countless times everyday. Although someone on youtube will think differently, and comment on it.