#TBT: FLEX
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ooo, ooo, ooo*
The last time I called out my ex, on some bullshit for the birds I must admit, I had to explain (sorry, “mansplain”) business law and ethics. When asked how I know what I know, I answered instantly, “because I have an MBA”.
Mind you, at this time, I was unemployed, hadn’t caught a break in months — or years, I forget which, because it’s all the same when you’re down and nearly out on the mat, and the ref is counting to ten, and he’s somewhere between 6 and 9 — and just getting back on my feet. It was the first time in months I had emerged from the den of despair called depression, trimmed my beard, combed my hair, wore a blazer, felt like a million bucks. Naturally, my ex replied, “what do you have to show for it?”
Many moons later: you’re about to find out.
Bitch? Darling? Let’s go with bitch. Bitch.
- draft excerpt from my upcoming first book,
a memoir titled Brown Grass #BrownGrass
*that’s a Rich Homie Quan reference, fam.
CALLS TO ACTION
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