Could Be Raining

Well, my darlings, it has been a full evening. Although it is only 10:17PM, I feel spent and ready for a nice night's sleep. Here is a brief rundown of the infamous, much-anticipated Dinner with the Drakes.

-11: minutes that my mom spent deciding what glass of wine to order

-9: number of times Pablo Honey, the Mighty G and I could mention the word "rabbit," "dying," or "rabbit dying" without anyone thinking it was weird

-6: times we said "nigga" in the car on the way home

-5: times my mom mentioned the curly black hair she found in our appetizer sampler

-3: minutes we spent laughing at the fact that my sister (at age 13) TP'd her own house to appear "cool" and "popular"

-3: instances where the Mighty G found it appropriate to say the word "fuck"

-2: songs my mom sang, including "Cielito Lindo" and "I Love Paris in the Springtime"

-2: glasses of White Zin that my mom downed in less than an hour

-2: times I got to yell "You never loved me" at the top of my lungs in the restaurant and get fellow restaurant-goer John Stamos to feel bad for me, even though we were just funnin'

-1: attempt to steal my mom's purse while making devil horns and feeling her up at the same time (see picture above)

-1: oral sex joke that went "unnoticed"

-1: drunken stumble on the sidewalk that made a complete stranger compliment my mom on her comedic timing...even though she wasn't kidding

All in all, I would say it was a success. I am officially allowed to play with Pablo Honey and the Mighty G again...they have been given the Drake Stamp of Approval, which is really more like a hex that involves the blood of chickens and goat entrails and stuff. Less of a stamp.

my niggas. g