New Jersey sucks! It smells funny. And for whatever reason, everytime I pass through it one or two cars have to flip over. Can you say 2 hours to move 1 mile?

Deodorant is not an option on a road trip. It is a necessity!

NightBug is very elusive. 'Nuf said.

The Golden Corral is the shit! If you get a chance to visit one, don't pass it up. There's more choices for breakfast than there are pedophiles in the archdiocese!

There are now crips and bloods in North Carolina. West Coast idiocy has finally invaded the East Coast. Half the damned state wears blue! Do Duke or the Tarheels have any significance here? Maybe the Crips need to rethink their color of choice.

Baltimore isn't as scary as The HBO series The Corner or The Wire may lead you to believe. Then again, I didn't venture far from the highway, and I was only there for food and gas, not drugs.

Do not pass through New York on the weekend of the Puerto Rican Day Parade! It's just not worth it. The parade itself is worth it, but trying to park isn't.

Might makes right. If you can't get along, get it on.

Fisk: OUT!

It's 5:30. I'll be leaving within an hour or two. 600+ miles to my destination. I hope to see NightBug. I've left her my number in a PM. If anyone sees her lurking about, please ask her to check her messages so she can drop me a line.

Hook, I'll be ringing you up. Adam, you're on the short list to receive a phone call too. Actually, it's a very short list. I only intend to call you and Hook! LOL

Short post. I'm gone.

Fisk: OUT!

Eat healthy, exercise, die anyway!

Fisk: OUT!

No. Fire shoots out my dick!

I used to think that was so funny when I first heard Eddie Murphy say that. Of course I was too young to know what a urinary tract infection was back then. I also wasn't afraid of that monster sized q-tip that exists in every doctor's office. Now I know the power of the q-tip and speak of it only in hushed tones amongst others that know of it's power.

Thankfully, this post isn't about me. It's about Wilson Jr. Keep in mind that I haven't been able to see him for about a month. His mother is on that shit again. When she walked in the door without knocking and told me that Jr. needed to see me, I knew it was bad. I assumed it was about school or something, but it wasn't. She didn't even know what it was about. It was something that he HAD to talk to daddy about. Daddy, and only Daddy.

Fearing the worst, I took him outside with me and sat him down on the porch. I asked him what he needed to tell me, and he in typical Wilson Fisk style, came right out with it.

"My penis hurts when I go to the bathroom."

Just as seriously as he told me his situation, I asked him a question.

"Have you been having sexual relations with dirty women?"

"No."

Not 'No Daddy, don't be stupid.' No rolling of the eyes. No embarrassed looks in the other direction. Just an honest answer to an honest question. After a few more questions I ascertained that he had probably just gotten a urinary infection from either swimming in the pool with dirty hood-rat children, or urinating outside with dirty hands. No problem.

"Drink loads of cranberry juice and iced tea and you'll be fine."

"Okay Daddy."

Why can't everything be that easy? Granted, my son and I have excellent communication between each other. I just hope that continues when he's a bit older. Hell, I didn't even think about how much he's maturing. It seems like just a few weeks ago he would've asked his mom to help him out. When I asked him why he didn't, he stated simply,

"Mommy doesn't have a penis."

"Sure she does. He's sitting next to her."

"He's not a penis. He's a this." Points to his penis.

"A dick?"

"Yeah, that's a bad word. I can't say that."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean yes."

"Good boy!"

Fisk: OUT!

There are several reasons why I can't win Powerball. Some are more obvious than others, but they're all fucked up.

In my experience, there are two kinds of people who win any major lottery. The first are people who already have money. These people are usually white and pretty well off to begin with. It makes you wonder what the hell were they doing playing PowerBall in the first place.

The second type are the dirt-poor bastards who don't even know what money looks like. These people are polar opposites to the above people. With these people you have to wonder how in the hell did they get a dollar to even play!

Sadly, I fall into neither of these categories. Frankly, that pisses me off. I PowerBall dream a lot. It's my thing. It's what I do! Should I ever hit, I know exactly what I'll do. And since you're still reading, I'll let you know what that is.

Originally, I was going to have my sister claim the money for me. I have two of the most precious children in the world. Their mom's on the other hand, not so precious. In order to keep them from digging in my pockets, I was going to have my sister claim my money and then give me what I needed to do whatever it was that i was doing that day. Then it hit me... I could afford to have them shot on sight! That changed things!

As I was standing there receiving my big assed check, I would take a few moments to read an alphabetized list of the people who can kiss my black ass! My son's mom would be 1st, 9th, and 33rd on that list. For the things she's done to me, she can pucker up and kiss my ass several times. Especially since she's going to have a bad 'accident' several hours after I sign my check. Dayum those city busses, always running over innocent pedestrians!

I would hook up my people. I would pay off my mother and father's mortgages, and give them a few upgrades they've been wanting. My sister, who is my hero, would have to wait until her house was built. To her exacting specifications of course. I would get my man Jason a 4-bay garage to run his business from. Additionally, I would give him enough money so he can make sure his wife 'catches' the same bus my son's mom will be 'catching'.

There's more I'd do, but it involves things that my readers probably don't want to know about. Nothing obscene really, just graphic. The usual man shit, penis extensions, midgets, oriental brothels. You know, MAN shit. He-Man shit!

So those are the reasons I won't be winning PowerBall any time soon. That doesn't mean I won't keep trying though!

Fisk: OUT!