Here I am, enjoi.

Sup bitches?
This is: The Real Trill, Smokin' ; ) Hot, LAdykillA, GreenAgent, Ace in Ya Face, WoWfiend, Dope Boy, BrowN PaPer BaG HUSTLa, SMIZBIGAMY. (AKA) Gairy. Thats right roll out the red cyber carpets cuz you're about to catch my first post. But first.. I gotta eat my breakfast.

That shit was dank as hell. And now Im enjoying my b-fast dessert, some girl scout peanut better delights. Envy me fools.

Alright my topic for my first post is this: WHATEVER YOU LIKE, by T.I. music video. NOw we all know the basis of the Whatever you like song, but for any muddled fagtard who doesn't: The songs about T.I. being able to give all his bitches whatever they like. And throughout the song T.I. raps about gassing up his jet so his woman can go wherever she wants, drinking the fine Petron on ice, and even buying sum bitch a 5 million dollar crib.

So if T.I. has so much $, then why is he buyin his ho; hot wings, fries, and a pickle in the beginning of the music video. Are you telling me T.I. would rather buy some bitch a house then dinner at at least an Applebees. Go ahead and watch the video. See!!!! He tells her "It's gonna be a long night so I might as well feed ya" as they walk in some chicken wing shack in the hood. "Stacks on deck, Patron on ice"? more like; K-F-C, is too nice.

T.I., I'm not hatin but if you're gonna make a music video about how you can get bitches whatever they like, start the video out somewhere a little classier. (If Hooch rushes me to finish this blog one more time, it's going to become the Gairyand blog. Because I'm about to slit his throat with my dick!!!!)

Sorry folks Hooch and I are in a little bit of a tiff. You see the (I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna slit his throat with my Italian Stallion Shlong) other day when Hooch told you about my little lifting accident, he left out part of the story.

Remember the time when Hooch told you that we had that little "supplement" cocktail before our workout? Well I had a little cocktail on my own after Hooch went to go do a warm up jog. I call it a half a fifth of Smirnoff straight up. See Hooch wants me to go to AA, but I told him"Fuck no! That shits for cry babies and quitters!!!!" and I'll tell you right fuckin now that I am neither of those things. Anyway, after I pinched my fingers like Hooch told you, I proceeded to enter a drunken hulk like rage. It's times like these that discourage me from mixing ridiculous amounts of testosterone pills and the drink. The rest of the story is just what I skimmed from the police report. Apparently a staff member approached me when he saw me crying and holding my fingers, the following I would do even if I was sober, and when I saw him and realized he'd witnessed me shedding tears, I immediately gave him a smack down to disable his memory from the last 72 hours. Don't worry, they say when he wakes up it will be like he just took a nap. After I worked this guy over I "allegedly" tipped over a couple rows of lockers, ripped some shower heads out of the wall, and ate 32 power bars. I still hold my defense that it isn't me on the security cameras, but I got banned from the gym anyway. So Hooch is all PMSing about the fact that we cant workout at the gym together anymore. I don't care because I always thought they didn't have heavy enough dumbells anyway.

Aw great, speak of the devil there's Hooch bitchin at me now. Tellin me I' m smellin up the house with my devils lettuce. He fuckin' knows I cant help how dank my shit reeks. Well I gotta rap this up for now. I've got a meeting with the Darth Vapors at Anne Franks house. And then I've gotta make Hooch his grilled cheese sandwich for dinner. I on the other hand, will be dining at the fine B. Mizell's with my lady friend.

Wish me luck, and wish for Hooch to step in a puddle of mud and get his pants dirty.

- Da Gairy