The Chronicles of Mr. Twenty Percent

We’ll get to the new title of the in a second, but just letting you know this trip to Texas we’ll be doing quotes exclusively from Kanye West, since 808’s & Heartbreak was playing for most of the weekend (it is one of the few CDs I own that I don’t have to worry about lyrics in front of my daughter).

“Eighteen years, eighteen years. She got one of your kids she got you for eighteen years.”
Since giving myself nicknames is apparently the new cool thing to do, I gave myself a new one: Mr Twenty Percent. A few of you may know that Deshawn Stevenson gave himself the nickname Mr Fifty Percent last season in his epic battle of swag with Gilbert since he had a shooting percentage greater than 50% (And probably the number one reason they’re 4-18 this year is because your team is concerned with its swag. Also, I’d like to note that Gil was the one who made that term blow up and why King magazine has articles like 69 Ways to Increase Your Swag). I’m now going by Mr Twenty Percent because in the state of Texas, a father is obligated to contribute 20% of his after tax income to their child. And sometimes, I think that’s half of what anyone down there is concerned about. I love that I had to break out my income recently. Nothing like having to pay an extra $100 a month so someone can not work. Also, my BM’s mom seems to like me more now that I gave her a G to pay for medical expenses. So as long as I’m being an ATM, I’m in everyone’s good graces. Let’s not concern ourselves with me actually getting down to Texas and how that’s getting paid for (which ain’t cheap by the way). Let’s just make sure Barney is contributing the correct amount and then we’ll guilt him into giving up more.

“Some of em dyslexic, their favorite 50 Cent song is 12 Questions.”
Texas has an advertising strategy utilized by some of its businesses along the lines of “You’re in the middle of no where. You have very little options at this point. The only one you currently have is this establishment. Just reminding you of that.” When there’s only one restaurant for the next 30 miles, you really don’t have to have a catchy jingle. You should however, focus on putting correct grammar on your billboard. You might want to have your 30 foot billboard say, “You’re Here” instead of “Your Here”. Unless you’re trying to advertise that the Texas school system sucks. If so, may I suggest you get Vince Young to be your spokesman. I think he’s available now. (And yes, I know that I had incorrect grammar on the JP Losman post. The difference is, mine was in 12 font on a blog, not 96 font on the side of an interstate. I would have checked the episode a lot more thoroughly if I knew that was the case).

“I’ll have a buzz bigger than insects in Texas.”
It wouldn’t be a trip to Texas if I didn’t nearly die. This time, it was the result of missing hitting a deer by about 6 inches. I’m fairly certain my Chevy Cobalt would not be able to handle this (It had enough problems just dealing with 20 MPH winds. When gusts came, the car literally moved.). I had to swerve to avoid the deer, then swerve back to avoid running my car into a ditch (God forbid they have anything like a shoulder or a highway that’s more than one lane wide). I’m glad I avoided dying just the way I always wanted: on a backwood highway impaled by a deer antler. On the plus side, if I survived, I would have definitely loaded it into the back seat and waited for it to come alive. “Hello Enterprise Rental Car, yes, I had a great time. Oh, that? There’s no top on the car because I put a deer in the backseat and it destroyed everything. Sorry about the car, but That. Was. Awesome.”

And finally, I was confronted with the age old question, “Is it ok to beat the shit out of a 2 year old?” Again, the answer was no, but I was really considering it for awhile. I might get convicted of something, but I think a jury would be sympathetic when I told them I did it because she said, “Your not really her daddy”. Yup, that’s what one of my daughters friends said to me. But I didn’t beat this shit out of her (not this time at least). Oh well another fan-fucking-tastic trip to Texas.