Yo yo yo, what it is, peeps? Holla!!! It's time for another def, dope, ill, stupid, fly, fresh, funky installment of my blizzy. Word. Fo sho. N'ah what I'm sayin'? I don't.

I live in the ghetto. Well, kind of. Nobody has offered me crack yet. Nor has any skanky 39 year old whore offered to blow me for a pack of diapers. That was in Michigan. It's a funny story. It's a long story. I'll tell it another time. Actually, I'll tell it now. When I was at a hotel in Michigan, some skanky 39 year old whore offered to blow me for a pack of diapers for her kid. Ok, I lied. It wasn't a long story at all. I probably shouldn't have gotten her hopes up by asking, "What kind?" She said, "Huggies." I then ran to my room and locked the door before I caught an STD from her breathing.

Wow, my mind wanders. What was I going to talk about? Oh yeah, my wigger neighbor. At least that's what it says as on the subject line. I'll assume that's where I was going with this.

"My Wigger Neighbor" would make for a great TV show title by the way.

Anyway, my wigger neighbor is so far out of the loop. I mean, he is behind the times. It amuses me immensely. Last night he knocked on the door. I opened it up because that's the next step in the process. He had two drinks in his hand. He proceeded to say this, "Yo, dog. Check this new drink my brother showed me how to make. You take some vodka and mix it with Red Bull."

He was proud of this "new" concoction. I tried so hard to fight the laughter. I failed. I know he saw me smirk, but I'll assume that he was too high off the "chron" to even care.

This is not that big of deal. What is a big deal is that one day he asked me if I had Windows XP so he could get "his internet on." He didn't say that he was going to turn his internet on. He said it in the fashion that he was "getting his internet on." N'ah what I'm sayin'? He told me that he was, and I quote, "doin' that Windows 95 thang." Why did I say, "and I quote" when I put the quotation marks in there? I'm quirky like that. Forget all that noise, homies. The mother f'r still has Windows 95! Did Windows 95 even have solitaire? I forgot, but I think it might have had pong.

I am afraid to go over to his apartment. I envision him helping his kids in math with the assistance of an abacus. If I did go over there, I imagine that the conversation would go a little something like this. Hit it.

Wigger: Yo, holmes. Peep this new drink I made up. You take some Crown Royal and mix it with some Coke.

Me: For real?

Wigger: Yeah, fo sho. I'm also working on this crazy shit; mixin' some vodka and orange juice.

Me: Hey, you got a light for my smoke?

Wigger: Here. You take these 2 sticks and rub them together.

Me: Thanks, white guy that thinks he's black.

Wigger: Hey, check this. I was tryin' to move this heavy object. The shit wasn't movin', dog. My brother showed me this crazy circular device. I think he called it a wheel or somethin'.

Me: Word?

Wigger: Word.

Me: I have to go back to my cave. I'll holla atchyou later.