These are the memoirs (have i spelt this right?) of a future baller. For those of you that aren't savy, thats rich. (term eminates from sports stars being stupidly rich, basket ball football, hence baller).
So I parked my car today and decided to take a walk with a huge Fat Talent banner for about a mile or 2. I just felt like getting out of the car and mixing it up with the common folk on foot (translation: my destination was in the congestion chrge zone, and this mother fo aint paying £8).
I strolled down in my usual cool demenor (definately spelt this wrong) and huge banner and delivered it as planned. I then decided to pop round the local boutiques and have a gander at what was about (translation: where the deals at yawl). Having spoted a cool boutique for kids I decided to pop in and buy some items for the young one from a lovely shop called "Sasti" with the slogan "Groovy clothes for kids". I made my boutique purchases and went about my business in the area as intended.
After I had ticked of my objectives, I stopped of in an authentic looking Mexican joint for a burito and an American soda. These bastards charged me £1.80 for a can. I have had a huge problem since childhood of sending things back once they have been tallied up at the counter so I took the soda (yes bitches I will call it a soda to make up for the daylight robbery) and enjoyed every last drop it had to offer. I wacked of the burito like the proffesional eater I am (yes I love food and am in shape. hate on me please) said thanks to the Chef and was outa there before they could say soda.
Next order of business, buy laptop from esstablished North West London retailer a.k.a a man who can get anything supposedly. I got there and this scumbag, uh I mean shop had sold my laptop (yes I called dibs) to another fool with a higher bid. Angry and in need of a scrap (fight), I decided to live by the code of a future baller. Be a gentlman/pimp and let low lives be lives.
Peace.
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