So I was walking through the grocery store the other day, and came upon a cardboard cutout of fiddy-cent himself. Below it, was the slogan "You wanna be like 50? Drink Vitamin Water" I thought to myself...."Do I want to be a super buff black guy who talks kinda funny (for getting SHOT in the face mind you), macks on hot chicks all day, and could shoot you".....yes I do. I noticed there is a special type of Vitamin water called Formula 50. I quickly started drinking it (don't worry, I paid for it). And I had visions of Family Matters in that episode where Urkle builds that machine to make him cool, and it turns into the ever-so-pimp Stephon. Then he got all kinds of chickies. After drinking the water, all I had to do was pee. But then I thought to myself "Hey. maybe everyone ELSE thinks I'm 50, but I just look like myself to me". Yeah, that had to be it. I thought "What would fiddy do"? I walked up to some "hoes" and was like "What up Bi-a-tches"! (cause 50 wouldn't be like--hey young lady, you're looking stunning today, I'd like to take you out for coffee sometime). Apparently, women don't like to be called hoes. And their boyfriends don't like you calling their lady a biatch either. So after getting jumped by 3 guys and their girlfriends (who were all wearing high heels) I've decided to warn the world, that FORMULA 50 MAKES YOU HAVE TO PEE. AND IT WILL NOT TURN YOU INTO A MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR RAPPER. It will just turn you into a nerd. I need to find that stupid machine that Urkle had. Then I could be JiggaJon instead of just Jon.
I've also noticed that this is a Twin Cities page, and I haven't reviewed many (or any) things on here...My bad. More to come...trust me.
Whatever happened to Lisa Loeb?? She wrote a whole song about Stay then she just left us. Not that I was a fan of hers, but I have that stupid song stuck in my head. ".....So I, I turn the radio on, I turn the radio up...." I bet she's hanging out in the self help section of Barnes and Noble.
Happy Wednesday yall. Go Cubs.
Happy Wednesday yall. Go Cubs.
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