Friday, July 1, 2011

Cookout Cup Life

Today's blog sponsored by the good folks at NoDaysOff run by none other than my homie Tommy Trump.


4th of July Swag.


Morning yams.






It's the beginning of the 4th of July weekend (No Anne Frank) And you know what that means...time to get it poppin like firecrackers and pork rinds.



C4: No Anne Frank? Huh?


Tako: July = Jew-Lie


Wja3: Oh boooooo nigga booooo.




With the weather getting hotter and more people getting shot (R.I.P D-Nice), what better time than now to discuss the only other thing going on in the hood during a summertime weekend where nobody has to work. Cookouts!!!



Cookouts are a time for celebration, free food and good times with the ones we love. Its a time to celebrate people home from doing a bid, those preparing to do a bid, and those who you never see because they can't get a babysitter. Good times, fun in the sun and libations galore. That's the allure of the cookout.



As the dawn turns into day (Robert Frost Reference) and eventually the twilight of evening, friends say their goodbyes, make "to-go" plates, and you...after your 4th Natural ice that someone brought as a gift before proceeding to drink all the heinekens, end up going home with that dimepiece you had your eye on ever since she whipped out her titty to breast feed her infant.


Milky....cereal baby. Yum. I'd suck the blood out them tiddayssss.

Unfortunately, when you wake up, she actually looks like this (see below), but if you're lucky, everyone else at the cookout was faded too so no one will really remember.


Tako: Dear guy who slept with her, I'm sorry for your loss....of pride.


This mental bait and switch where your drunken mind convinces your nondiscriminatory dick that the atrocious He-She-Onyce is a dimepiece isnt even the most interesting or important part of the night. The important part of this cookout cup life is what happens prior to said planking of Moby thick the latina sea beast. All the girls u tried to holla at first...the bitches who were too stuck up to care. It's their fault the ugly girls get so much play. Pass me my cookout cup as I explain.


The Stuck up Hoes:



Girl #1: What you doin today girl


Slightly more chickenheadish Girl #2: Girllllll. I'm goin to whatsaname an nem cookout. Shit, I'ma fix me a couple plates then probably come home and hit the club. I gotta find me an outfit tho.


Girl# 1: ok, ima go put some minutes on my phone then i'ma meet you at the bus stop. I think ima kill em today with the redbottoms.




After a few hours of planning and coordinating their outfits...buying baby jordans and old navy shorts for their bastard children and making a grand entrance looking like actual, legit, females, the typical cookout girl will fix a ginormous plate and eat like a lesbian at a pussy buffet. Smart tactic if you ask me, as it allows them the chance to get all the good food (cause the bus drops them off early) and finish eating before anyone arrives. They also get prime seating at the spades table in the shade so as to protect their yellow bone or mudbutt colored complexion.




Next up the niggas arrive and so does the thirst. Noone knows these ladies or their stories, only that they are mutual friends of mutual friends. This is the perfect window of opportunity for these women as all the fellas havent arrived yet, therefore they havent had the chance to compare "hoe notes." Yes that's right ladies, fellas keep mental basketball cards of you all including all your stats, most importantly "body count" aka how many niggas you let push your shit in.








Hours later, aesthetic beautification, mental preparation and a meticulously planned strategy all coincide as girls # 1, 2 and 3 walk by you with their dior shades and.....look...right... through you. Yep. They didnt even acknowledge you or your 200 dollar electric blue foams that came out 2 days ago. They dont give a fuck about you....and you know why? Because they're stuck up.





Tako: How you gonna be stuck up at a cookout tho?




Wja3: Because said females are tryfling whoremongers with standby dick at home or in jail. They only come for the free food, moscotto and jungle juice. Holla at a nigga at a cookout? To them it seems beneath them. They are there simply to initiate thirst.




C4: Funny thing is, after dropping their kids off at their grandmothers house and not showering. Said girl will be at the club, in the same cookout outfit (complete with slightly tangy cookout twat) just to holla at the same nigga in the electric blue foams! Its like dropping dead mice in a cage with snakes. Chicken heads cant hunt outside their element...but drop em in a club full of bottle poppin niggas and wads of rent money and boom!!!




Show: She'll leave with this nigga.




Tako: He's wilding for that "Roscoe Ass" haircut.



You my friends, however, are smart enough not to be fooled by the cookout Kishi girls and their fake damier bags. You know the game and if not, have been educated by this post.


You've navigated the seas of thirst before and are familiar with this cookout cup life.


You've bypassed the club altogether and decided to go home with the ugly girl. She was available, down to earth, and cheap...plus she had a fat ass. Now, lets raise our red cups and have a toast for the normal girls! The semi attractive, low maintenance broads who drink out of beer pong cups and are grateful just to get some cookout dick from the nigga in the freshest shoes and Ray Ban Shades.


Swag.


Bitches, Breasts and Beerpong

-Bros

1 comment:

The Notorious ZAG said...

You have taught me something today, because I've always wondered how the chickenhead thing works. My former friends used to have it down, but I never could, thank goodness, pull off the chickenhead steez. Guess it just wasn't in me.
Shout out to ex-bestie whose fat (size 18/20) was famous for wearing thongs and mini-skirts in the club. Nasty ass.