One thing that has really surprised me about NYC is how African Americans speak African...and not American.

It makes me recall the good ol'days, when I thought ebonics and phonetics were the same thing.

6 + 7 = Git-up out my crunk juice, bitch!

I cannot express this enough:

This is not our enemy:


This is our enemy.

I must admit...I am very glad that I do not partake in this:


Now, I'm not trying to say that I'm some squeaky-clean kid (I am) that has never done anything illegal (I haven't) in his entire life (entire). What I am trying to say is that, while I have many friends who do partake in drug use, which is fine, I always feel a little let down when it's the hard stuff. It's like when you meet someone new, and you think they're great, nice, whatever...then suddenly they're doing lines in front of you--it's a little awkward. And I would be lying if I didn't say a little disappointing, too. But disappointment isn't a judgement. It's an emotion.

People can't judge me for the fact that I don't do drugs, just as much as I can't judge them for doing drugs. I want the best for my friends, of course, so drugs don't necessarily keep that front and center.

You can imagine my frustration with this friend:



She is really skating on thin ice with me right now. Glad to see you finally hired a driver, Lindz-meister. Oh and call me! LYLAS.