Nostalgia

Nostalgia should be considered medication in my opinion. I don't care if it's music,sports,television, or a movie; it instantaneously brings us back to a great memory. That's my favorite thing about getting older, and will remain so until I'm referred to as a silver fox, which is highly unlikely. I'm on a Houston old school rap kick at the moment, and it is fantastic. Sure, a 28 year old man heading to the store to buy refills for a Shark steam mop, jamming Pimp tha Pen is somewhat disconcerting, but I don't care. My Houston readers know exactly what I mean. Who doesn't remember this?

I'm draped up and dripped out
Know what I'm talkin' 'bout
Three in the mornin, gettin' the gat out the stash spot
Fire up a fat sweet
Turnin' on the bulb lights
Hand on the wood grain
Ass on the tight white
I'm showin' naked ass in the great state of Texas
Home of the playas, so it never be no plexin'
So long we've been waitin'
Never ever hatin'
In Houston we Elbows, In Cali they Daytons
So 1996 you hoes better duck
Because the world gone drip candy and be all Screwed Up
Just pop in your grey cassette
Turn up your fuckin' deck
Lend me your ear because the SOUTHSIDE finna wreck
Down here we smoke tree
Then let the world see true hidden talent like Screw and Lil Keke
Ain't no love for hatas and you bustin dick suckas
On the south side we stay paid MuthaFucka!

Not exactly John Lennon or Bobby Dylan, but it's an anthem. Texas pride somehow applies to rap as well. If Big Pimpin' is playing, I guarantee the whole crowd screams, "whatch y'all know about them Texas boys." I'm sticking with a Houston theme, because I honestly don't care about anywhere else.

Where were you when the Astros won the pennant? I know my friends and I were at a classy joint known as the Sports Resort. We sprayed beer around like we were in the locker room. I took so many shots, I was literally ready to drive to Chicago, and kept yelling that I was. I know we eventually got swept in the Series, but that National League championship paid dividends for years of loyalty and heartache.

Gladiator. What an epic movie, right? I remember seeing it for the first time the day after prom. For normal proms, that fact would be irrelevant. Our prom was a promapalooza of epic proportions. Tiff (my lovely date), you never gave me my prom pictures. I don't know why I felt compelled to write that; I could easily just call or text. Oh, and I have no need for prom pictures at this point in my life. I can't even get a date to go to Applebee's. Anyways, we had enough booze to supply a Guns N Roses tour bus. We even fired the police officer we hired so that he could drink and play quarters. I have to personally thank Lacy Lloyd for keeping us alive. I almost fell asleep at the wheel and she punched me in the arm before I began swerving into on coming traffic. I don't know who's idea it was to do anything that next day. Gladiator is easily one of my all-time favorite movies, and I don't think one person who went to that movie stayed awake the entire movie. I thought Russel Crowe was yelling at me personally. "Are you not entertained?! Is this not why you're here?!" No, Maximus! I'm totally entertained, I swear! Spaniard Spaniard!

I've rambled enough for now. Back to 2010 with knee pain, mortgages, and weird tingles in my left ball. Ciao!