Laughing My Ass Off
Link via The Hot LibrarianJust in case you missed my point earlier, I translated it through the Snoop Dogg Shizzolator.
Hi n' shit. Do yo' ass remember me? I brought in 2 shirts 'n a suit fo' alteration 'n dry cleaning last week 'n yo' ass charged me $108. Oh, fo' sho, yo' ass do, know what I'm sayin'? Great n' shit.
Well, here's da deal, know what I'm sayin'? The alterations are fabulous 'n I has no complaints 'bout that part, but when I ax yo' ass launder & starch my shirts, that means I'm hoping get 'em back WITHOUT wrinkles n' shit. I mean, da whole point of paying yo' ass do my shirts, is not that I CAN'T iron my own shirts, but that 1) I prefer not , 'n 2) I assume yo' ass've gots better stuff 'n can therefore do a better job, know what I'm sayin'? But da basic expectation is that I should NEVER has touch up yo' work." And that goes double fo' yo' ass ironing in NEW creases that weren't there in da first place."
And yet another fine example of how my writing may be improved upon:
At any rate, that shiznit's a moot point now, because Mr." Neighbor forgot lock 'em up one night 'n well, da chickens weren't there in da morning, know what I'm sayin'? But they left behind some feathers 'n entrails." Mista n' shit. Neighbor then had explain what happened they 2 year old, so brizzle told her "da chickens are wit Jesus."
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