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zebradrips

Memoirs of a Pseudo Intellectual D-List Graff Jock

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somebody kept tagging my bike. the seat. the rims. the fender. one time i caught him in the front hall of my apartment building, but he ran into the night. it was his way of telling me he liked me. graff dudes are always fuckinig weirdos.

 

we were friends for a while. i broke up with my man the same day he broke up with his girl, unrelated. a coincidence. started going by his place more, it was summertime, we would play records and roll sticky joints and drink brass monkey and ride around on his motorcycle. i would be his lookout when he racked, he taught me how to steal food from salad bars. it was never an official thing. we were friends first, saw other people, but whenever i was in a jam, boom--he was right there. and he was a big dude. not the type you'd wanna step to.

 

all the nights he came over and tore it up, held me until i fell asleep, then left me to go out bombing. the next morning we'd go out for breakfast, he would make me walk by all the places he'd hit. i'd pretend like it was the biggest hassle but i secretly loved it. he never talked about it all the time, wasn't a fuckin knucklehead about it like all the toys who would go on for hours at parties, building up each others' boners.

 

fall rolled around and the warrants built up and he had to get the fuck outta dodge. he left me in a city filled with his name. i couldn't go anywhere without seeing a reminder of him. one time i even saw his mark on a leaf growing from a low-hanging branch. i'd walk into somebody's crib and they'd be watching old flicks - there he was stumbling through the hole in the csx fence, catching wreck in the snow, that was his laugh in the background. it took me awhile to realize that all the crazy places he took me to bang were just spots he had painted. down by the yard. on the banks of the river behind the flood wall. abandoned buildings. the trussels. rooftops. water towers.

 

he came back to visit once and went into my work when i wasn't there. i came in the next day to a big drippy silver mop on the black bathroom wall - "hey boo." made me smile.

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Guest R@ndomH3ro

Re: yep.

 

What

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hell?

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Re: yep.

 

That just moistend my victoria secrets thongsicle....

  • Like 1

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Re: yep.

 

so there's bojangles book/memoirs, and Hermdog's new book out now. what's this..."True confessions of a graffho"? maybe she can score a bookdeal with fourthehardway

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Re: yep.

 

did they spray paint your rims gold by any chance? if so, quit complaining :p

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Re: yep.

 

emohipstergraffhoevaj...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

book

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Guest R@ndomH3ro

Re: yep.

 

This has got to be a joke.

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Re: yep.

 

YO, I'm on the line with **** now! He said he needs to see your boobs so he can know it's you and if it is, he will come home. Post them here and I will get them to him...

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Guest R@ndomH3ro

Re: yep.

 

I enjoyed the story.....but I would enjoy your tits even more.

 

 

FIXED

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Re: yep.

 

did they spray paint your rims gold by any chance? if so, quit complaining :p

 

 

This is actually funny somehow.

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Re: yep.

 

i will admit it is better than PGW's advertising extravaganza of his sexual conquests and drug shit...

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Re: yep.

 

haha. if you're on this shit enough, you've prolly seen em before. i have rules about getting naked in front of cameras, but after last call with an arsenal of weapons and three weeks worth of drug money, photographs were inevitable.

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