Sunday Night Fever

So I'm sitting here on Sunday night, watching The Transporter waiting on my personal stimulus package (unemployment extension) to kick in. The automobile industry and I really need this bailout thing to work, so lets keep our fingers crossed. During this cinematic master piece, I'm trying to figure out which bodily fluid would net me the biggest payday, when it really hits me. I don't have any money. Not like an I'm down to my last 20 kind of money. I'm talking about that.... there is nothing left, where did I leave that ski mask at....kind of money. I don't know where my next dollar is coming from and rent is pretty much up in the air. So you know what, I'm gonna ask Paris Hilton to pay my rent. Yep that's what I'm gonna do. Sure I don't know her and have no way in hell of contacting her but why not. I've emailed my resume to every job in the great state of Georgia, and nothing. Maybe Paris will look down on me in all of her blond skinniness and show mercy on my poor soul. Maybe after we speak I can be her first real BFF. She's rich and white and I'm broke and black so she has an obligation to help me. Right? I still have at least 2 months before Obama takes office, so I have a least 60 days to take advantage of white guilt for my own personal gains. I supported the bitch.....I mean Ms Hilton. I stayed at a Hilton before, I watched the simple life. I squinted at the grainy night vision images of her terrible blow job. She owes me. So the plan is to drive to LA, knock on her door and ask her 775$ not including gas and tolls. I really believe it would probably be easier to pull off this Macuyver than to actually find a job. 8 percent rate of unemployment in the state of GA huh? Well that figure is a little off in my house. My personal unemployment rate is somewhere in the neighborhood of about 100 percent. Just a thought for the night people.

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