“It’s mister famous rollin on dubs, walking down those red rugs, what is this step-into the club, ladies like to spread the love.” These are lyrics from a song/rap that my best friend Gino wrote or possibly stole from the back of a cereal box. Gino shares the same vertical measurement as Mike and I but weighs in about 150 pounds heavier. He is a solid full blooded Italian version of Fat Joe. I mean that with regards to size and music talent. He can actually write and sing/rap pretty damn good and has had that dream for a long time. His other dreams consist of the Philadelphia Eagles winning a Super Bowl and Chinese food buffets; the man can eat. When I say he can eat I mean seriously ,don’t leave your small children with him. The man actually orders 3 value meals at a time. Gino is probably the best looking out of all of us but he’s so large you can’t really see the beauty behind his neck and eye fat. What he loses in being large he makes up for in being strong. This fat fucker can throw my big ass around like a rag doll. He’s kind of a “conspiracy theorist” when it comes to life and is scared of his own shadow but being big and sensitive is why they call him the silk teddy bear. He really is a great friend and would never hurt anybody on purpose. Being Italian means family is life and he showed that by marrying an Italian woman last year and before by living with his pops until he was thirty. Gino’s “fatha” Don is a great man who keeps G in line so I guess it was a good thing. I don’t see Gino that much as he lives across the country but I wish I could. I miss him and his family and can’t wait to meet his new wife.
E “mother effing” Rock (Eric) is my young half black brother. Have you heard that song, “Head, Shoulder, Knees and Toes?” I sing that to Eric, “Nose, Penis, Lips and Knees” because those are the black parts he possesses. He has big lips and a big wide nose. He is tall and from all of the women I have heard he is hung like a porn star. We all have that friend that we know who has a giant meat tube; this is my boy Eric. He is good looking and funny as fuck. Probably the most giving person and all around great guy you will ever meet. This is why god gave him the 24oz Budweiser tall can and me the 8oz Red Bull can. With all of his charm, generosity and general “good friend” character, he still has some issues. He is co-dependent like Mike and Me but probably worse. He has a good job, nice car, FULL 100% custody of his 2 year old daughter, his own place, tons of man toys, the big penis and the great character. Does this not sound like the dream or at least a dream guy? Yeah well he is fucking miserable half the time because he feels empty being alone. Maybe his parents being still married or his “I am 25” and not married is causing these issues. The weird thing is, he can be broke, car-less and even homeless but if he has a woman he loves… he is on cloud 9. Maybe call him a true romantic or maybe call him fucking koo-koo, I don’t know. He is my partner in crime and been there for me through all the ups and downs the last few years. I can truly say he has taught me a lot about friendship and I couldn’t have made it without him. He is like a brother from another black mother. As of this article, he is single so hit me up if you are hot and want to date him.
So these bitch ass hoes I call my best friends really have been my family over the last 15 years. Each one I consider a brother and although I never had a brother or even an uncle, I can imagine they would be the same. I have became close with many others but these guys represent the only constant in my life. They don’t judge me and even when they have not agreed they still gave me the support that only your family can give you. I’m not saying my parents haven’t done the same but there has always been limitations to everything; and an ever apparent judgmental position from my father. He never expected me to just be myself and by doing so look at me as perfect. He had and has expectations that I have never met and probably never will. I guess most parents want their son to own a home, be married and successful by the age of 30-35. It wasn’t that I planned to not be “that guy” but more so I didn’t plan anything (except for a lot social trips that would lead to getting drunk and getting laid). I’m a drifter and pretty much a loser and I know, get over it and grow up, right? Well I have and this is why I can tell you all about it now.
You know them so when you read about them… see a face… or a nose… or them with their crazy women.
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