Walked into a "Vacuum Cleaner Repair shop" with a friend who needed to get his new vacuum fixed. We had tried a few places earlier that charged a little too much so we went to a place in his neighborhood. As we walked in, we noticed that we were the only people there with a vacuum. The rest were standing in line or sitting in chairs...none with a smile...or a need to take care of personal hygiene.
Upon reaching the counter, we explained the problem with the vacuum, only to be told in a loud annoyed voice, "What's wrong with you niggas!?! This ain't a real repair place! This is a numbers house, play a number or get the fuck outta here!" Neither of us won the lottery that day, and I'm sure none of the other people there, (who laughed at US by the way for NOT knowing about this place) won the lottery either.
Genetic or otherwise.
When are you TOO old to call your balls "Baby juice factories"?