Monday, August 31, 2009

Days Off and Fish Frys

I love days off.
I love days off in Detroit.
But I really love days off where I can cook. And I've decided to have a fish fry.
Snapper, catfish and Detroits local fare - perch. I don't even know how to cook perch or what perch tastes like but Lawry's season all hasn't failed me yet.

More to come.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Boost Mobile Pro pres by Hurley: Sept 11 - 20, 2009

This means I have one day where I could, quite possibly, drive down to Trestles and catch fine ass Kelly Slater in the first heat.

I'm finna do it too. Who's down?

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Foolish Heart

The radio was turned to the classic rock station when I came back to my hotel. Conrad Indianapolis is lovely. And I immediately was set in a mood. A hot classic rock mood. I love classic rock. When did that happen? I don't know. I know my ex used to listen to it all the time, but since I knew all of the words, I had to have listened to them sooner. And now this. Now i'm in a Steve Perry vortex that I cannot get out of. I bought the whole damn album. "Oh Sherrie", "Foolish Heart", "When You're In Love", when did I become a middle-aged white woman? What the fuck?

Meanwhile, back at the Lil Wayne ranch, my kids are doing great. Stepping so far up to the plate and reaching beyond my expectations - well, reaching my expectations. I got high expectations. They are now teaching my newbie. And they are running this and giving me enough breathing room to be able to attack my other job....the drama filled one with the prick ass PM. IS that like the criteria of PMing is to be a ginormous cum-sucking prick? I'm looking on and I don't see that listed in the job description, but lo and behold. As Biggie would say, "here's another one......and another one."

Shit, I should have bought Journey's Greatest Hits. Just Steve Perry is kinda sucky.

Friday, August 28, 2009

I Got Jacked for Bus Stock

As if getting thrown under the bus by the new PM wasn't enough, as if being suspected of scalping wasn't enough, as if stopping a nigga from beating a females ass by throwing him in jail wasn't enough, this nigga from...let's just say the "parent company" bus, jacked me for my bus stock.

We order bus food for our long rides for our 4 buses. That does not include 5. And the thought of niggas and their silver ass platinum whatever teeth gleaming into my car and across my General Tsao's chicken talking about , "well can the big bank get some food? Oh, Big Money can't eat. What we gon' tell him then?" It was a horrible shake down. Over some fucking chicken broccoli.

I'm beyond being sick of misogyny. Misogyny ought to pay me for being his publicist since I out half of it's crew. More than half. What the fuck, man? I'm even tired of hearing myself talk about it, and yet, it comes up over and over and over again. Whether its a fat fuck of a played out ass production manager regaling motherfuckers with stories of "when i was with...... What the fuck....

Or niggas telling females on my bus "well, you shouldn't really use the word attack if nothing physical happened. I think you guys are overreacting. Or really? I didn't ask you what you thought i asked you to protect me. So much for that expectation.

Oh, and my top favorite. Turns out, between tour managing the number 1 tour of the summer and the number 1 band on the charts for 20 weeks, i've added ticket scalping to my busy busy schedule. Tha fuck outta here!

Ever have those weeks where it all hits you at once? And what do i do? I'm so tired. I'm so tired of fighting. They need to come up with a new word for fighting I'm so tired of it.

But God msust be setting me up for something else. not sure what it is or what it encompasses but I will wait. Studiosly, patiently, happily. Wait.

Friday, August 21, 2009

one day on ICHAT between managers.....

T: whatcha doin?
S: finalizing this - Hennessey deal via email then goin to watch TV and rest my brain
u like Hennessey??

T: naw
i don't drink nigga drinks
no nigga drinks for me
but if you get a Ketel One deal....then......

S: how can u put Henny in the same sentence as fuckin Hypnotiq??

T: just cuz yawl uppity niggas don't mean it ain't a nigga drink
Hypnotiq was made for niggaz....hence the "q"

S: lol

T: its all "yac"

S: Niggas discovered Henny by mistake. Some niggas like they yac with koolaid

T: lol

S: Henny is like Timberland
like Ralph Lauren
Like POLO!
"if y'all niggaz gonna buy it...oh well, but it wasnt made for y'all"

T: but Rakim sells it....I thought it was for niggas exclusively

S: nah.....henny is a top shelf cognac

T: okay

S: Remy is too.

S: niggaz just fucked it up by putting it in records and videos and shit

T: Back when I was a nigga I used to drink Courvoisier . But only cuz it was French

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Faith In the Universe

So God has, once again, proven to be all provider and all knower. Worried about keeping up my reputation and being thorough, an angel came to me and started working for free. Flew herself in and has been a great asset. Just for the opportunity. She is not a teenager , she is a grown ass woman.

So i'm trying to figure out how to sneak her into the camp. The pace of Pop is much different than rap. There's a reason pop stars are POPULAR, they are constantly moving. So she's been helping me with daysheets and the like. Catching up with the pace. And it just so happens....we need another person on crew to do whatever....another "indian" as we have so many chiefs. And VOILA!!! This bitch was already about to use her miles to come and help me regardless ...and just a wee bit of positive energy, putting yourself in the right place at the right time, seeing the BIGGER PICTURE, and.....well, I'm just a little bit moved. We hired her. And she only worked for free for a month.

it overwhelms me a taste. It really does.

Praise Jesus...for reals.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009


I normally get mad at the border. but this wasn't racial profiling, it's just that niggas be doing dumb shit. Like I always say, "jail is filled with niggas who 'only did' this . Or 'all I did was' that." It's fucking ridiculous. I say don't try no dumb shit, and what do they do, walk the dumbshit to the customs counter. Then, "niggas" have the nerve to get mad when the officer starts roasting. "aww, if he didn't have that badge and that gun I wonder how he would act." "He can't see me." Really niggas? I am so fucking embarrassed I WANTED them to turn us away at the border. But they didn't. And it sucks cuz 'niggas' will think they got away with it or, all it was was a slap in the wrist. And then they don't learn. Meanwhile, I have friends and family stuck in jail on some for real racist shit and can't move because of dumb niggas.

I don't know what's worse. Douchie white boy or dumb nigga shit. I'm still not sure which one hurts the most though. I think my racism against both races basically neutralizes it. So fuck it. I'm not racist no more. I hate niggas and white folks equally and I love them equally. I feel so paul McCartney/Michael Jackson right now its....well, it's corny.

Thursday, August 13, 2009


I would just like you all to know that I've come into the Mac store to replace my lost ipod ONLY to find that the "classic" has different pins. Meaning, different chargers. Meaning my Bose speakers and my car attachment require an adaptor. Ask me if the adaptor is free?


Fuck apple.
Fucking Communists.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Goodnight Toronto

Drake has officially left the building.
Toronto gave me goosebumps. It was amazing.
I will miss him so.

Monday, August 3, 2009

My Black Card.....and other embarrassing moments around white people

I played hooky last night from the Wayne Tour. My other buddy had a show at Jones Beach the next night so I decided to spend a lovely weekend in Long Island. After getting the babies off to VA I chilled with my sister and home girl. I knew I was going to a hillbilly show so I put on my best daisy dukes, a fantastic red white and blue plaid button down, and some cherry red open toe 3 inch Manolos. Hair ever so Pat Benetar and I even wore eye shadow! I was going out!

We started out in Freeport on the Nautical Mile for brunch and Bloody Marys- it being Sunday and all. It was pouring. Like a hurricane. It was amazing. I just knew the ampitheater show would be washed out. Thank God I had a perm, much to my homeboys dismay. "What?! No afro? Oh well, nappy wet hair will have to do," his text read prior to jumping on the citation and heading into town. After a few Heinekens, Sam Adams Summerfest and a raffle, we were on our way, in adverse conditions.

We were slightly rushing and I was on empty. I swore we'd stop on the way but I didn't see a gas station so I kept it moving.

I prepped my girl on the possible fun of the evening: drinks and dressing room hoes, fights. Bedlam. An amazing amount of people came. I did a hick check and was pleasantly surprised to see that not all hillbillies have missing teeth or are even rednecks. In fact, they was tryna holla.

Backstage scene was cool and easy going just like my boy. It was a happy reunion of old tour manager homies and their wives.

The show was GREAT! I mean, I knew he was a rockstar and shit, but for reals? He's a fucking rockstar. Great performer, amazingly tight band, great production. And who am I to be shocked? Its not like he hasn't been in the business for 20 years and didn't have time to hone his skills. Sauf for the Roots opening for him in, like , 2001, I hadn't seen a show of his at all.

So he kidnapped us and his bodyguard drove my car. Drunk cackles about 15 minutes later we pull over to the gas station. I'm thinking, what type of unprofessional ass car service company needs to pull over for gas. The driver says, "oh no, he has to pull over for gas." Oh yeah. My boy says, "did you come to the concert on fumes?" "It was the rental car company. We didn't want to miss the show! They brought me an empty car!" To which he promptly replies, "Earlier after the surf and snowboard talk, I was going to revoke your black card. I'm happy to say with this incident, you can keep it."


Saturday, August 1, 2009


I've been sitting on the BQE for an hour coming from the Verrazzano Bridge. I knew this would happen. I bet everyone 230pm arrival. They said..."oh no, Long Island ain't that far."

So I did what any normal person would do, made the the driver turn on DJ Quik's , "Can I Eat it?" It's inspiring.
My sister is coming to tonight's show, amazing.
My girl Amy.
My girl Tanya.

And tomorrow we'll chill and watch Lynard Skinnard and Bobbie. I've never been to a country and western hick party before. I'm ready to rock my poom pooms. I was looking for a confederate bikini but to no avail I hope the weather holds up. It's beautiful on the Long Island Expressway right now. 85 degrees and bumper to bumper. We'll get there one day. But at least DJ Quik will see us through.

And now I have to face the fact that Drake may not be coming back to tour. The reason for todays depressive episode. Aside from him being a cutey patootey, I so believe in him, his growth and progress in his career, I hate the breaks. Working for the Roots you learn one thing, niggas get good because they work all the time. Show after show makes practice perfect. He's getting better and better. Most rappers can't use a microphone these days to emit their voices let alone tell a story and capture their audience. You never know how good they are because you can't hear them!
But Drake....oh well. I'm done. I must be strong. I'm fasting until he's better. Which I hope is soon. Cuz i'm gettin' HONGRY!