Going to Ikea today to hopefully wrap up any furniture needs that I have. I need a kitchen table, a coffee table, night stands, and a
holy shit did you see that Michael Jackson interview? As a person who has his fingers on the pulse of pop culture, I missed the original airing because I had to go drinking that night. A friend taped it and I watched it last night, however. He reminds me of that kid in The Toy (Richard Pryor flick) that just surrounds himself with every whimsical thing he can find. MJ goes to Las Vegas (Why? No one under 21 is allowed in the casinos) and takes up seven hotel suites, surrounding himself with wax statues. MJ has a creepy-as-hell amusement park.
Q: What's the icky thing you'll most likely find in a baby's diaper?
A: Michael Jackson's hand.
Speaking of gay, I'm furniture shopping today. I'm driving up to Ikea with my friend Greg who thinks he's going to be working on his laptop while I drive up there. That bitch is going to be reading my newspaper to me. I need a co-pilot, not a tagalong. As of this moment, he's got 12 minutes to get here.
I woke up this morning at 6am and for some reason was bright eyed, bushy tailed, and I think I even had a "zest for life," as my therapist once put it. I opened up the curtains, looked out upon all of the possibility that a town like Troutdale has to offer... that's right... soak it in...
Damn right it was a good day
--Ice Cube
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