I hope me and the 'ass' play basketball sometime soon. If he keeps contradicting everything I say, I'll be able to take it out on him during the game. I play very physical basketball, elbows flyin' and shoulders lowerin'. It's streetball. There are no fouls. You play right, or you leave. If you want to call foul, leave. If you foul all the time, leave. It's that easy.

I don't foul intentionally. Everyone who has played ball with me knows this. I don't call fouls. I'll go over to the guy and laugh while saying, "Man, you really hacked me on that one." But it's not like, "You [expletive deleted]!" Well, sometimes. Depends on how bad they fouled. If you pull a 'Shaq on Yao' swat to the head, you're asking for it.

Hopefully I'll have my brother there too. If that happens to be the case, then no doubt the 'ass' will leave the court bleeding. Hey, I've dripped my fair share of blood on the court. I broke my arm playin' ball, my bro broke his ankle playin' ball, my dad has numerous scars and chipped front teeth from playin' ball. I don't cry about it. So if he starts crying, you can bet we'll never let it down. Everyday, a new name for him.

If you can't handle the heat, don't bother coming into this kitchen.

Like all of the sudden he knows good music/good trumpet playing/good basketball skills. I can't wait to make him fall on his ass when we play ball. He better not wuss out either. That will only make me angrier.