The nights I tried to save Amy Winehouse from herself - Last night, as the moon shone brightly, I went back in time to try to save Amy Winehouse from herself. This was not my first attempt. Sadly, I’m never ther...
Friday, August 20, 2010
My name is...
It's not easy having a horse head. If I was back in ancient Greece, the centaurs would have felt me. Egyptian gods had animal heads. I could have been revered, fu%#ing worshiped.
Instead I'm a freak. My shirts have to button or zip up. I can't find shades or hats that fit. But I make it work.
I am the party. I'm all people talk about. I can walk up behind a chick and mack the shrimp kabob off her plate over her shoulder before she's wise.
I drink Carlsberg because it has an elephant on it. I dig products with large mammals on the labels.
If you sport a horse head on a human body you only need one name. I'm level with Madonna, Prince and Silver.
I'm coming to your neighborhood. Your backyard cookouts, poetry readings, off track betting, laser tag tournaments. I have mad DJ abilities; like my boy MCA, "I've got the skills to pay the bills."
I don't buy Vanilla Ice re-making himself as a hardcore rocker, though I do rock the convertible Mustang.
Photo by AFP.