Maybe if I wear my bling-bling, they'll just go away... ...and leave Mr. Anus alone.
Let me 'splain...
Yesterday we discussed my thorough and utter knowledge of Mississippi...because of my upcoming business trip (click HERE to read "Part One").
This includes, and is completely limited to:
1) Everything you need to know can be learned from that jump rope song
2) Everyone is sweaty
3) They like big boats for some reason
4) I can't understand them...mainly because I'm not high on Crystal Meth and Moonshine
That’s pretty much the extent of my knowledge of Mississippi.
Until the other day.
While I was booking my trip, a coworker overheard me on the phone.
Mike: “Um…you’re going to Jackson, Mississippi?”
Me: “Yeah. Why?”
He then appears at my cube.
This can't be good.
Mike: “Dude…Don’t leave the hotel.”
Don’t leave the hotel.
Me: “Why? What the Hell? Why can’t I leave the hotel?”
Mike: “When I went, our cab driver asked us what we were doing.
We told him:, “Ah…we’re going to sightsee for a few days.”
He told us:
“You don’t want to do that. Stay in your hotel room. NEVER LEAVE IT."”
Me: "NEVER LEAVE IT?!"
Mike: "Right. Never leave it."
Mike: “As we were driving down the road, the whole city was just a total f*cking mess.
There were people driving their bikes down the middle of the street…carrying 40-ounce Malt Liquor bottles in their free hand.”
I’ll fit right in…
I’m all about being gangsta.
Tale of the tape:
1) I’m 5’2” tall.
2) I weigh 150 pounds.
3) I’m cute and have little semi-hairless bum.
4) I’m manscaped and typically use my wife’s lavender body wash.
And, on top of all of this…
About the only gang I'd ever be able to remotely fit in with is this one:
Also, I have to arrive at the job site at 1 o’clock in the morning.
Me: “Oh man. I’m SO getting ass-raped…
...and probably with a f*cking bottle of malt liquor.”
...or a jump rope.
Pray for me.
And pray for my lavender-scented manscaped sphincter, too.
Mississippi's gonna suck.