Can I hit it and quit?(Yeah!)Can I hit it and quit?(Yeah!)Can I hit it and quit?(Yeah!)HIT IT!!

Fuckin' James Brown, man.

He rules.

If you don't have any in your collection, I ask you, "Why? Why oh Why?"

There has never been anyone else like him, and there never will be again.

He is personally responsible for 50% of the beats in hip hop.

OK, I made that up, but nobody, and I mean nobody had better beats.

Anyway, on to the purpose of this post...

I had two phone conversations today that made me laugh.

I am talking top-volume belly laugh.

# 1. I was talking to my friend, Atwaan Randle El, who, in addition to being a versatile scatback/wide receiver/kick returner/quarterback, has earned his C.P.A.

Surprising, isn't it? Dude plays in the NFL, wins a Super Bowl, and still has time to do some freelance accounting for financial institutions on the side.

He is also looks a lot shorter in person. And skinnier. And whiter. I'm talking ghost-like. Strange. But they say t.v. adds 10 pounds. And black skin.

I digress.

So, I'm talking to Antwaan on the phone today. We were shooting the shit about his hectic life since the big Steelers Super Bowl win, his new team, the Sarbanes-Oxley Act, and whether or not I can deduct my meals if I think about how I used to practice law while putting wasabi on my sushi.

It was weird.

He kept trailing off in the middle of his sentences and completely forgetting where he was in the story.

After the third time, he said, "Dude, sorry if I sound distracted. There are some incredibly hot girls suntanning on the Capitol lawn, right across from my office."

(Today was a C.P.A. day, not an NFL day. Like I said, dude's versatile.)

I said, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Hot enough that I had to go down to my car and get binoculars."

I start to laugh, "Really?"

"Yeah, really. What's fucked up is that my office has glass walls, so everyone in the bank can see me."

{cue: me internally hemmoraging from torn stomach muscles.}

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#2. Later, I was talking to Will Danger. You guys remember him. We did the backcountry trip to the Beartooths. Goats? Smokewagon?

Anyway, he lives in Gig Harbor, near Seattle.

They are an hour behind us Mountain Time Zone denizens.

I called him just as he was going to lunch.

We did our usual chattering about the stock market, interspersed with Lebowski quotes.

(There is an unspoken rule: any time either one of us says, "Jesus" in a conversation, the other immediately interrupts with, "That's right. Nobody Fucks With The Jesus."
)

Anyway, Will was on his cell phone, a/k/a MOH-bile phone.

As he was on his MOH-bile, he started off to lunch, unbeknownst to me.

Occasionally there was that annoying cell phone static that happens when the wind blows, or, as in this case, someone breathes directly into the phone.

I ignored it, and continued trying to shoehorn "it really tied the room together, man" into a discussion of the performance of Devon energy stock.

Out of the blue, Will says, "Just so you know, I'm walking to lunch; I'm not jacking off."

And that's where I absolutely lost my shit.

Have a killer Friday.