21 February 2002


I got a Certificate of Appreciation at work today. Not just a certificate, either. They also gave me a sippy-coffee type cup and (get this) a hundred bucks. A hundred bucks! That's righteous cash, dude. They had a little get-together with all the employees and everything.

And I had no idea it was coming, either. Sure, before the meeting I was going around saying "it's taken 'em long enough, hasn't it?" and telling everyone how I was going to thank

  1. My baby's momma.
  2. My boys in incarceration.
  3. My homies back in the hood. I never forget y'all!
  4. Tupac.
  5. Biggie. We miss you, Big.
  6. P. Diddy, for producin' a fly album.

but I certainly didn't expect to get anything. I thought I was cruising along under radar, and that was just fine with me. But no! I'm excellent. I'm a motherfuckin' winner.

"If what I've been doing is outstanding," I told a coworker, "then I intend to slide on down to barely adequate, put my feet up and coast through the rest of this job. I've paid my dues. I've earned it."