Lifestyles of the Famously Rich

So I have one question for the rich and famous, WTF? I just don’t understand it. While I come to work 5 days a week for 8 hours a day to make a salary that goes to pay Peter, Paul and Pookie the Plaxico Burresses of the world are throwing their money away on foolishness! Oh the lifestyles of the rich and famous!

Do ya’ll understand that if I could afford to make it rain on someone else to do my laundry, cook and dress me I would. This includes paying someone else to drive me-DUIs are neither sexy nor smart. And someone else to carry my guns, well actually if I liked guns I would carry my own but I would make sure I had the corresponding permit, which I’m sure costs much less than the $100,000 bail Plaxico just posted. Having a gun go off in the club is soooooo Puffy 1999. Take dat. Take dat. Badboy. Dance J.Lo.

I must admit the famously rich fascinate me when they ignore their common sense and expect their dollars to make up the difference. Their entitlement issues make me laugh. You best believe if I’m making a wage living at a hangbag store where I couldn’t afford to buy anything I sold, and half my check goes to pay for someone to watch my kids, I’ll be damned if I’m reopening my store just so Oprah can shop. I mean I’ve worked a retail job before…well shoot, even the job that I currently have has me counting the moments until I can get the heck up and out of dodge! Dueces Lady O, its five o’clock!

I guess because I am of the thinking that mo money could solve a lot mo of my problems leaving me free to do whatever I wanted (a growing list that doesn’t include drug overdosing or court time of any sort); it’s difficult for me to imagine being stupid about mine. Mine being-my conduct, my character and my clothing, money should improve all three elements. It bothers me that some of these rich-n-famous folks started from rags and are still trying to find a way to get over, not out of poverty’s necessity, but because it in some way shows they are still down with the hood. Say whaaaat? When was the last time anyone ate chicken flavor Ramen noodles just because they wanted to?

But you know, maybe I just don’t understand the Plaxicos and the Britneys of the world because I and my parents were raised in the unglamorous, even kilter middle class. I have no idea what it’s like to want to keep it real, or stay gully, or show how hood I am after I've made it. I do know that if the good Lord wants me to be rich I darn sure don’t want to be famous for it. It just makes more sense for me to sip champagne when I’m thirsty in the background with close personal friends who knew me way back when I use to drink coke from a can.

See You In Seven