cubicle biz

yeah im back up in the saddle. after all that holiday sleaze im returned behind the desk. jon is the name, pimping records is the game. now get out on that track bitch! and dont try to come back at me with no short stack, cuz then i'll hafta cutcha! [but you know you my number one girl, right? thats why im so hard on ya, cuz you my number 1. you gotta be the BEST, dig? now get my hair rollers ho, im hittin the club tonight].

damn i need to learn how to hyperlink on this shiza. and to put up pictures. crazy pictures. pictures of couples fighting in the street or homeless people passed out in an elevator. pictures of cracked walls and cracked minds and cracks in the sidewalk for you to hop over [unless you couldnt give a shit about youre mamas back]. pictures of cuts and bruises and scrapes and scars. pictures of fools living it up and pictures of fools dying. pictures so dark you cant tell where my background begins and the image ends. pictures of black and pictures of white. pictures that shine like a bright red hatred.

oh yeah, and pictures of beautiful women. beautiful ones. the nasty ones.

the kind that make your dick go limp they are so hot. the kind that taste like jolly ranchers when you kiss them and when you pull away a faint pleasent scent hangs there in between your nose and her neck and its not too strong like a perfume but soft and faint like she had taken a shower three or four hours before your lips even met.

or they can just be skanky scabby chicks with nicorette breath and dandruff. whatever. pictures of the city. pictures of the burbs. pictures dude. dont you get it yet?

ugh. i just read in an article that courtney love was sick trying to kick XANAX. fucking whore. how did your dumbass get addicted to xanax and how come its SO DAMN HARD to kick. jesus. i just went through 120 pills over the last two weaks and do you hear me whining about the shakes or the sick. NAH BITCH! shit, gettin me all angry n shit. bouta go take a xaney just to calm my ass down...