will work for sprite, akon

Is it wrong that I seem to be unable to produce any writing without the uninterrupted aid of Pandora's Akon Radio station? It's really sort of like a game of "Red Light, Green Light." Stop Akon radio, hands immobile on keyboard. Start Akon radio, scenes fly forth. People sometimes complain that they can't listen to music with words while they're working, but since these words are about bottles, clubs, and hos -- concepts I've deeply internalized, in other words, being a pimp -- I don't have to listen very carefully.

Now that I have nowhere to show up except for the houses where I babysit and the post office, to send my freelance back, I'm resorting more and more to gimmicks to make myself do things. The radio. Sprite. I've been bribing myself with Sprite. Okay, if you write 2500 words today, you can have a Sprite, take a walk, and listen to some more Akon. What am I, a thirteen-year-old boy?

The Sprite has to come from points outward since I'm heading into Week 2 of not having a refrigerator. Turns out this is going to be Week 2 of 5 thereof, according to my sort of inappropriately blase landlord, who blames, among other entities, Home Depot, Best Buy, China, and The Economy for taking five weeks to replace my appliance. People are urging me to get the tenants union involved and try to get my rights "acknowledged," (tee hee! me having rights! hilarious) but I hate conflict. In the meantime, I'm eating a lot of bananas from the corner store, eating and then frequently being forced to vomit back up some ill-advised meals out (man, that Flagyl is some in-tense nauseatrix), and doing things like sticking halves of egg sandwiches from bodegas in my tote bag, where they make my computer smell strange. And, importantly, gearing up to blow this joint, and by this joint I mean San Francisco.