This is gonna hurt some of y’all feelings, but this is the ‘Tough Love MONTEL WILLIAMS’ part of the DP Dot Com show. This shit is written only to describe a part of my life that I have decided to alter. If you can relate to the knowledge I drop then get in where you fit in.
I just touched down from my vacay in St. Maarten. Ma Dukes is in town now too. She is a little bent out of shape because he flight from the ‘A’ was diverted into Pittsburgh for an undisclosed three hour layover. WTF gives? Airlines are madd bootlegg right now. C.S. and I had a mini 60 minute delay inside the customs area waiting for our check-in luggage. I normally don’t have any heck-in items but I can blame my vanity this time. I did bring the jumbo size bottle of SPF -30 cooking, er, tanning oil for the trip. Checking in items on any airline except British Airways = fugazi.
So Dukes is sick with me because I put her up in a hotel instead of in my apartment on Long Island. First off, I am considering the maneuvers she is making in the fam’s former stomping grounds – Queens stand up. So it’s not like I haven’t taken thought to her ease of movement. My kid brother’s baby mamas (3×3) all come from the literally the same neighborhood (Jackson Heights – East Elmhurst). My dad is interred in Queens close by. My mom’s sisters are all within earshot as well.
My mom is only focused on cleaning out the hotdamned storage unit in Hempstead. Finally she is ready to throw this shit out. It’s been time to do that shit. I said that shit years ago. When my dad convinced me to throw out the stuff I kept in the garage he did so by saying that I kept too much bullshit. He was right too. I had ridiculous dumb shit in the garage from all my years alone. I threw away my entire cassette collection. I only kept three tapes. Wu-Tang’s ‘Enter the 36’, the Purple Tape and O.D.B.’s first joint. Funny story, true story is that someone put the CNN album in the case because when I found these tapes in a box a little while ago that was the deal. Shit like that always happened at my bachelor pad. It was the quintessential jumpoff spot where you were always welcomed if you had an elle or a 40 oz. Niggas thought that allowed them to leave with something. A Tribe Called Quest debut album was stolen from me so many times I never bought another ATCQ album until ‘The Love Movement’. I just stole other people’s ATCQ cassettes.
So boom, my dad’s point was anything you have in storage is pwning you more than you are owning it. Shit is occupying space that you could otherwise put some shit you use or has a greater value. I shouldn’t have let my dad make me believe the shit I was hoarding had no value. If you look at the classic (photoshopped?) picture of Biggie and 2Pac hanging out together it was taken at the Bad Boy label launch party. The poster in the background is Puffy’s kid Justin in a diaper. The party was at the Tunnel and I remember it well because it was a top-shelf obama and I took about 30 of those posters.
I didn’t have a thing for kids in diapers like ROBERT SYLVESTER, but I thought it would be a slick idea to have one wall of my bachelor pad plastered in placards. I had some sick shit hanging around my crib that I mostly came up on from my garbage digging tendencies. I went through the garbage onetime at Tower Records and came up on a 72″ mylar promo poster for LL Cool J’s ‘Mama Said Knock You Out’ single. Posters were also cool because then I didn’t have to paint. When I moved back into my parent’s house all this stuff was transferred into my parent’s garage and my dad saw it as a load of shit. The main reason I got on eBay eight years ago was so that I at least made a few bucks from all the shit I accumulated instead of just putting them in a dumpster.
I put my mom in a hotel for another reason. My apartment looks like a storage warehouse. You’ve seen the pictures. Shoeboxes fill the wallspaces that don’t have framed art hanging on them (read: everywhere). Shit is in various stages of coming or going. Neatly ordered, but still everywhere.
Sometimes I feel like my apartment is a curious experiment in the exercise of having too much of nothing.
-D motherfuckin’ P
So this is my challenge to myself for the remainder of the summer. I intend to complete over 101 eBay transactions up until Columbus Day weekend. Shit is on like a motherfucker. Maybe after Columbus Day I can let my mom stay at my crib. This storage shit is bullshit and vain. Anyhoo, I’m tired as fuck and rambling and cursing incoherently. Get rid of your storage rooms party people. If you really need to store some shit then do it, but don’t keep a storage locker filled with bullshit magazines, CD’s(fuck around, VHS tapes) and old clothes unless you plan on opening up a newsstand, that reruns old movies inside of a vintage clothing store.
And who cares about that old bullshit anyhoo?
