goddamn minorities

as i'm pulling into my parking lot, after work, i can't park where i normally do, because some ass wipe has decided that he's gonna park his car fucking sideways across three spaces. it's not that there aren't enough spaces, it's just the principle.

so, i'm sitting in my apartment with the makings of yet another headache --they've been as steady as the fucking sun lately-- and i hear Bachata bumpin' from the car. now, i can appreciate loud music. i dig it. sometimes, i'm certain it flows from my apartment, out the window, and into the world. i think i really just hate when people sit out by their cars and force the rest of the world to listen to their bullshit. music that comes from houses are more of a whisper on the wind, whereas music from cars is like 90 knots of unoriginal inanity threatening the integrity of your eardrum and sanity.

well, that's not fair. i like Bachata...in doses.

seriously, though, they're right outside my window. it's late, i'm tired, shut the fuck up.

so, there's that.

then there are the rules. if you insist on blasting your music for the world to endure make certain of three things:

:1. make sure the sun is up. nobody wants to compete with your music as they try to put their kid to bed or unwind for the night.

:2. make sure your shit doesn't skip. clean you player so no one has to hear, "t-t-t-t-terror sq-q-q-q-q-quad. keep your shit tight, playboy.

:3. don't play some old ass shit, unless it's Biggie or Tupac. you wanna bump "I Get Around?" cool. blast "Player's Anthem?" fine. but you can't fucking throw on some Naughty By Nature and expect to not have someone call the cops on you. in case you're wondering, i'm not down with O.P.P.

that's it. those are the rules. no one wants to hear Eminem stuttering as he's cleaning out his closet at 9 'o clock at night.

enough.