West Berlin, NJ has the GREATEST Thrift Store.

I'm bored, and I made almost $500 this weekend, dad ... ha, daddy is so getting a Father's Day dinner this Tuesday. (By the by, I had to Google, if "dinner" was spelled"diner" or "dinner" ... I did so by typing "local din..." and waited to see what it suggested I finish my search bar with, but I digress). However, I haven't spent much time with my father, (who is daddy due to the confusing fact he is listed as such in my phone book as such, but my mom is listed as, well mom, again I digress) because of conflicting schedules. However, on this wonderful Father's Day (what ever the word for night after is) when I happen to read Jenn's Blog as well as listen to Asher Roth, I realize how little I share or have shared with my father. Now I don't blame that wonderful man for any of this, it's just true. Pretty much when I was younger he wasn't there much, I mean for sports, he was designated but even times where I injured myself, for the manly DEAL WITH BLOOD things, my Grand Father was designated due to my father's need to work, which is funny because that's the reason I don't see him. And because he's finally getting some booty, however that was LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOG over due. You go dad ... but I digress, hmm I can't stay on track today ... but I digress. The only thing my dad and I pretty much share anymore is our car insurance (Geico ... I just had to switch this creepy stack of money was following me around for like a month), the occasional dinner when I stop by (my Grandfather ... oh my ... makes the greatest sauce known to man, I know, you're thinking everyone says that NO! I thought my mom's was awesome, I was wrong, go eat my Grandfather's sauce), and a conversation pretty much when ever I build something because for some reason I'm see as not only the nonathletic son but for some reason the son that can't build shit, like the son that isn't handy, because I'm a waiter or a college student, I don't know, but anyhow I like to prove to him I can build shit, so I tell him. However when I know I need his help, I ask him. Like for instance, I need to mount a TV this TV



and I need his help, so I asked him to come over he says sure I'll come over. He calls back the next day, and asks that I make sure it's alright with my mother that he come over. Now my mother and father have an amazingly civil relationship, I have seen them fight in 19 years ... once, that was fucking creepy. Anyway, I obeyed his wishes asked my mom, she was for some reason hesitant, but then said yes. She calls back a half an hour later, giving me guide lines on how the house may look and to make sure her door to her bedroom is shut. I agree. Not even another half hour goes by and she calls once more "tell your father not to come I'll have [my husband] do it for you," my reply "no thank you I'd rather it not be hung, I'd rather it just stay the way it is." No here's a side note for all those joining the game late, my Mother's husband who will remain absent of the title stepfather, even in the most confusing of circumstances I will never refer to him as such, is an ass and he is the only reason my father can't help his son, do something that is along the lines of his profession. So my brother is just going to help me, hopefully we're competent enough to pull it off ... poor choice of words ... competent enough to put it up ... and it won't pull off. Yeah, I think that's it.


(Oh by the way My Mother's Husband hasn't spoken to us in years, just encase I'm comming off as a spoiled kid)




Oh and as for the title, about one or two months ago I went the the GREATEST thrift store ever! It was in West Berlin, NJ and I bought a random bag-o-action-figures and a little house-shelf ... it's self-explanatory. They were bought with the intention to combine. Just so you know in this AMAZING bad-o-action-figures (which I only purchased because there was a bendy-flex Red Power Ranger which I know for a fact a friend of mine owned, but I didn't ... must have been like expensive ... so I needed it) it contained not only a Goldar (from Power Ranger) action figurine, but a Space Jam, yes a masterpiece we all know and love that gave us Lola Bunny, action figure. OH, and a mini-Bible (both old and new testament), but that's bot featured.

You've Heard of Rapper's Delight? Well, I'm Delightful.

G-d bless Technology.

Rap, now every genre has there exceptions and I'm well aware that many people like "crunk"-rap, as well as anything that is overly gangsta'. But honestly I can't relate, and recently I found a Genre that is just me. Nerdcore. It's rap for the geek in everyone, now I'm not discriminating against gangsta' rap, everyone has their own thing they can relate to, Nerdcore is mine. Now until recently this certain type of rap wasn't very mainstream, it still isn't, but there are many artists that can be seen as having Nerdcore aspects such as early Gym Class Heroes stuff, Lupe Fiasco, or up and coming rapper Asher Roth, some white dude from Pennsylvania. Well with is overload of Nerdcore as well as intelligent relevent rap like the three artists I mentioned, I've been inspired to write, and it isn't much but it's something and that makes be very happy.

(This is it.)

All He Wrote, All I Am

I feel like I don’t have a medium to express,

The way that I feel or the way I want to be,

I’m stuck in a rut and there have been times where I’ve done less -

But this is different in some way, I just can’t see.

I’ve been blinded by the times,

My mind’s eye is in a recession,

My receding hairline, I’m 19,

And balding how depressing.

But that’s just current events to make this a period piece,

I’m not affected by the way the price of the gas likes to increase,

I’m working steadily, and I’ve got nothing wrong in my life -

I guess that is the reason that I can’t really write.

But I don’t want to tempt g-d I just want to be able to be,

Express what I’ve been feeling in a swift flowing rhyme scheme,

See I think of me as a poet and thought not many people know it -

I like to be able to forever be.

It’s a little dream I’ve had like since I was twelve,

I started writing in my notebook about how much I hate myself,

Because of the way my peers made me feel -

And pressure from my Bar Mitzvah.

And now I’m all grown up I’m certainly a man,

Or at least in Jewish standing I think you can understand,

I’m ok with who I am and I’m ok with who I’ll be -

But because of that I have a hard time writing this poetry.

P.S.

Listen to "The Lounge" by Asher Roth.

P.P.S.
New Eminem CD.