Make Believe Bitches & Money

Know what I love?

I love to day dream about gettin paid.

Yeah that ain’t working — that’s the way you do it!

I like it when loose US $50 notes flip & tumble-roll in the air like feathers escaped from a big fluffy-goose bed. I want a pile of money big enough to lay back & relax in like it was a recliner chair.

Sip on chilled neon sweat-drip glass fulls of Dexedrine-spiked & iced Alien Turd tea. With my mind on my money & my money on my mind!

There is a tall highway over-pass a short walk from town. When I want to off myself — if you don’t have days like that…get out of my face — I think about how I might jump off it. Should I so choose. But I want to go out First Class — and that crumby old bridge, from even a suicidal standpoint, is a whole low-rent load of going out coach.

I want so much money I can plunge beneath an oxygen squeezed crater-load of it until I suffocate & die. Like an Irishman near drowned after an inadvertent slip & fall into a whiskey vat; fighting rescuers off bravely and resurfacing only to demand tequila & cans of Guinness pub draft beer.

I know what you’re saying. “But Mike E: if you have so much money you need 3 bitches & a swiss bank account — why would you want to commit suicide?”

Not a reason on all sweet momma Earth. Money is the solution to all my problems. That’s why I love to day dream in my spare time about getting paid.

When I occasionally wish I were dead it invariably is because of Smoldering Abject Poverty. Sometimes I want to commit suicide. Yes. And you know what? I’m proud of it. Why? Because one day I might. It does suck that bad to be me. But I am also a fantastically wishful thinker. My fantastically wishful thoughts are why I assiduously choose to live & not die.

Like when I comtemplate suicide by Benny Frank asphyxiation instead of landing my ass in a (with my luck) barely alive pile of gut-splinters up the street.

But don’t worry. I’m too lazy to kill myself. And it’s not like I sit around & think about it all the time…

…I think about 3 bitches & Swiss Bank-loads of dough mostly.

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6 Responses to “Make Believe Bitches & Money”


  1. 1 othersideofthemirror May 25, 2007 at 11:20 am

    Ironically, I long for the day when I don’t get paid and I am not accountable to anyone other than my friends and myself. Don’t get me wrong, cake is great however, as McCartney wrote and experienced, “money can’t be me love.”

  2. 2 DEXterity May 26, 2007 at 9:50 am

    I have a job now speaking of money

  3. 3 pippi May 30, 2007 at 10:26 am

    When you find the money spout, let me know, okay?
    love!

  4. 4 Mike E May 30, 2007 at 3:48 pm

    Yo I got a Beastie Boys song for sale!!

    [Yeah — I got more tricks up my sleevez
    than Mike D has got
    MONEY!!

    Not Perfect grammer
    Never perfect timing
    My jokes are no good
    But Fuck Off
    um-k
    I think they’re FUNNY!!]

  5. 5 MG wafers and crank May 31, 2007 at 6:50 am

    You try to see me on the tv cause I be the D-o-double G. You cant see my homie dr.dre, so what the fuck a nigga like you gotta say? Gotta take a trip to the MIA and serve your ass with a muthafucken A-K. I’m servin’ em, swerving in the coupe the Lexus flexus from Long Beach to Texas sexus hoes they wanna get with this cause Snoop Dog is the shit, beatch

  6. 6 fatsavage June 13, 2007 at 2:49 pm

    Mike E – You’re begining to make sense again and stick to your beliefs. As you will find out when you reach my age that the beliefs of our youth are somewhat bullshit and yes, “money can buy you love” or a very close and satisfying approximation.

    PS check me out over the next few days to find out they really are watching you.


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