"I'm gonna have to shut down the studio...there's a homeless crack head running around my house in one of my silk robes and a chicken leg in his hand."
Love crazy dudes. They always find themselves in such wacky scenarios. Got to tip my cap to Quamine Taylor. He's been a mainstay hobo at Diddy's house for over a decade. Based on that stat alone, he's lead a far more successful life than I will ever lead. With pure knowledge that I'd get arrested, I'd love to spend a day at Diddy's place.
I'd turn on the very underrated "Come With Me" off the "Godzilla" soundtrack, pop on the most outrageously expensive robe I can find, smoke some crack, and start my day. If you don't think I'd pour Ciroc in my Diamond Cheerios, you're out of your mind. Maybe I'll scavenge some old shoe boxes for some compromising pictures of J.Lo and...Cameron Diaz, but I don't know if there's enough time for that. No time to creep on pictures when I just called Ma$e over to play some Mario Kart and eat diamond studded cocktail shrimp with me.
After trying on assorted Mitchell & Ness Throwbacks that were stuffed in the back of the closet, I will take rest in what I'm assuming is a bed made entirely of 100,000 thread Egyptian sheets. At that point, I'll be so liquored/diamonded up, my body will force me to pass out. Wake up in prison, spend 120 days behind bars, and do it again. Take that, take that.
This has the makings of a HIGHLY edited children's book.
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