A Day In The Life of Philaflava's 4th Most Famous Rapper

Many people wonder what a day in the life of the fourth most famous rapper on Philaflava.com is like. Usually I tell them to imagine floating in a warm vagina. It’s pretty much the same thing, with out the smell and pubic hair. Most times, people stare back at me vacantly and walk off disgusted, but is it really my fault? They are not ready to accept that life is better for those of us that are better. Regardless, it can be annoying, to say the least. So I have decided to save myself the trouble of dealing with the inferiority complexes of common folk and give you a running diary of my day:

Jan. 29, 2007

8:00 AM – Woke up early--too early in fact--decided that I need to go back to sleep. I clapped twice to call for my harp player, so she could play me something that would send me back into the blissful land of celebrity sleep.

12:00 PM – Finally decided to start my day and woke up to breakfast in bed served by my lovely maid Jordania. She is Moroccan royalty, and often wakes me up with eggs and a hand job. It’s terrific. I highly recommend starting your day like this. I like it a lot more than when Jorge the Norwegian chef is on duty.

12:57 PM – Finished breakfast and post hand job nap. Decided it was time to hit the shower. Now as a celeb, I have to keep up with the Joneses, and this means a state of the art bathroom. My bathroom has a Jacuzzi tub that fits five, a stand up shower, a Jacuzzi toilet that fits three, and a 76-inch plasma TV that only plays books on DVD. I like to read in the bathroom, just like a lot of regular people.

3:27 PM – Showering’s finished, what to wear, what to wear…I look through my extensive collection of Bapes, Ice Cream, and Old Navy, finally I decide on my Old Navy techno fleece for two reasons: one, I love Morgan Fairchild, and two, I’m totally into techno.

3:53 PM – smokablunt

4:27 PM – smokablunt

5:03 PM – smokablunt

5:33 PM – Call my boy Myles to pick me up so we can head to the city for some shopping.

5:34 PM – Myles shows up in his tricked-out Scion* and we roll to downtown Manhattan or “Tha Ville” as kids from Jersey and Long Island call it.

6:03 PM – We are in “Tha Ville” and we decide to hit up some of the exclusive boutiques that only a star like myself or LA Reid’s son have access too. Places like H&M to stay up on cutting edge euro fashion, or maybe The Gap for some really fun zip-up hoodies and the new Common album. Finally, we hit a nice little coffee shop called Starbucks to reflect on what we have purchased (or more like what Myles dad purchased for us with his corporate platinum card….booyeah!!!).

7:53 PM – We decide we need more weed. I call my man Darius who has the best weed in the city. A lot of people don’t know about him but I think it’s just because he is really discerning about his clientele. You know, only dealing with the city’s upper crust, like me and Min from Style Wars. Any who, I buy an oh zee from him. He has the best stuff, I can smoke blunt after blunt and I never feel too high. He has taught me so much about weed. Did you know the best stuff smells just like oregano??? I didn’t either, but he is so right.

8:30 PM – smokablunt

9:00 PM – I got a wicked case of the munchies, I tell Myles to drive over to Taco Bell. Unfortunately, on the way there, he got a call from his mom who told him he had to get home with his older brother’s Scion*. So I give him a pound and walk over to the Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, and KFC on 14th Street and 1st Avenue. That’s really the great thing about the city, you always have options: Mexican, Italian, Black. All in one establishment. What a time to be alive.

9:35 PM – Two Chalupas and a Choco Taco later, I’m ready to roll. I get on my Virgin prepaid cellie and call a few of the other famous people I hang with. We make plans to get up.

10:34 PM – I am up in the Bronx at a local watering hole of off the Grand Concourse called O’Shea’s. A quant little Irish place in the Dominican section of the Bronx. I went up there to meet my good friend and fifth most famous rapper on Philaflava.com, Rob Sonic. We enjoy out-of-the-way places like this because we are treated like everyone else. We don’t have to deal with all the staring of Midwestern tourists and “bridge and tunnel faggots,” as Pawl of Hangar 18 fame calls guidos from New Jersey.

10:55 PM – Three Budweisers and Jameson’s** later, we decide to go outside for a smoke and discuss the current state of hip-hop today

10:58 PM – We decide hip-hop is gay.

11:24 PM – I beat a short, squat girl named Jacinda in a game of pool and won our bet. She now has to give me a kiss. This is shaping up to be a legendary night of macking for the god. All nickel-pieces and better for the kid.

11:45 PM – I touched boob. Unfortunately it was Rob’s and it was on accident. I didn’t realize he was standing to my side, and I turned around and swiped it. Oh well, it’s still second base and it still counts.

12:08 AM – Jacinda and I go out back to smokablunt, and after we talk, just really talk. She tells me that she has always wanted to sing but her mom and dad want her to strive for middle-management. I drop some hints that I am sort of big in the music industry. I tell her I am part of Hangar 18. She pretends she never heard of us, but I know she is just playing coy.

12:78 AM – I have drunk about twelve beers and done seven shots. I’m kinda fucked up at this point. So I get Jacinda, bid Rob adieu, and head to her place. She has a great place, she lives in a triple-room in one of the dorms at Fordham University but she says her roommates wont mind. If they don’t mind, I don’t either.

1:23/98 AM – Jacinda’s dorm room. Man this brings back memories of my one semester at community college, we didn’t have dorms but my friends that wasted their time at four-year universities did. She has the funniest poster on her door, it is a cat hanging from a tree and it says “Hang in there”! Man, what a knee-slapper. I also wrote “Alaska was here” on her dry erase board. Good times.

1:923 AM – Jacinda comes out of her room and says her roommates aren’t happy, so we have to go to the TV lounge. We are both pretty drunk, so I know what’s gonna happen and I am psyched. No matter how many times it happens—and it happens a lot because I am kinda famous—scoring a new chick never gets tired.

We turn on the TV and watch some Elimidate. Jacinda is fading now… I realize it a little too late because she is passed out, but that’s cool. I decide to take it out and give myself a handy using her hand. Still counts!!

I didn’t get laid but that’s fine because I still got a great handy from a killer nickel-piece.

3:47 AM – the Resident Advisor wakes us up and asks me for my student ID. I say something about it being in my room and I leave. It’s a bit of a walk back to the train, but I use the time to reflect and look over my shoulder. It is the Bronx after all.

4:59 AM – Train comes.

7:34 AM – I am back in Brooklyn

7:45 AM – tall glass of water, some Advil, and bed, and tomorrow we do it all again.

As I’ve shown you time and time again, things are pretty sweet for the borderline rich and semi-famous. I hope this glimpse into a day in the life of me, someone who is better than you, has giving you an inkling of how much your life sucks. Until next time, I am Alaska, and I am famouser than you are.

* The official car of hip-hop.
** The official drink of Def Jux.

Most people don’t realize how difficult it is to be famous. I know I had no idea until I passed all the required tests. Now, I’m not talking about fingering Lindsey Lohan, because lets face it, that’s not really much of a test. No, no the test I’m referring to is the written exam. There are actually 7 exams you have to pass on the road to transcendent stardom, so far I have only passed 2 and I am studying for my third. If I pass this I will attain the status of coke-addled douche bag, so you can see why it’s a big deal for me.

Up until about two years ago I had no idea that obtaining celebrity was like becoming a stock broker or a CPA, minus the whole element of being a guido from Long Island or New Jersey. The amount of schooling one requires is truly daunting. To get to the level of, say, a Tom Cruise, one would have to spend the better part of their twenties and thirties going through the course work and memorizing The Manual.

You know what, I might be losing you mere normals here, so let me double back a bit to bring you up to speed: The Manual is an insider’s term for The Guide to Celebrity and Celebing It Up by Charles Chaplin. I had no idea The Manual even existed until we signed our first contract with Def Jux. The night we finalized the contract was a truly memorable evening, it was after 6 PM, so naturally we were all wearing our tuxedos while waiting for the limo to take us to Morton’s for a nice steak and a touch of whiskey, when we received a knock on the door. I assumed it was merely another well-wisher congratulating us on our remarkable fortune and rap prowess. To my surprise it was actually New Edition. We figured they were there for the same reason Donald Trump, Yao Ming, Billy Crystal and Frank Stallone were there, which was of course to try to sponge off our new-found status as the ‘it’ group amongst our co-workers and one guy at CMJ.

What we didn’t know was that New Edition were the guardians of celebrity and halfway through their second term in the position. That night, in a ceremony as old as time or at least Larry King, The Manual was bestowed upon us. Everything I know about celebrity I learned from reading The Manual. It was equal parts eye-opening, sobering, and boring. Since I now have a social contract with you, the members of philaflava.com, I am going to give you a glimpse of the knowledge imparted to us by the greatest boy band ever. Prepare to be shocked, mortified, appalled, and indifferent.

Highlights from The Guide to Celebrity and Celebin’ it Up:

1. In order to maintain celeb status, one must be willing to convert to Judaism.

2. The paparazzi are actually guardian angels sent by God to watch over His favorite creation: the celebrity.

3. A celebrity can assume the position of Secretary General of the UN at his whim.

4. Women do not have equal celeb status, and are only legally recognized as playthings, with the exception of Rosie O’Donnell for obvious reasons.

5. Any celeb worth his hide has a healthy distrust of people with mixed racial backgrounds; Derek Jeter being the exception because he is one of the ‘good ones’ and has the best coke.

6. All R&B Singers are gay.

7. Jon Bon Jovi and John Mellencamp are the same person.

8. The CIA assassinated both of the Kennedy brothers and then sold the movie rights to finance classified operations in El Salvador.

9. Conservative Christian groups and Gay rights organizations are on the payroll of every major studio, and are used to drum up business through protest.

10. Celebrities secretly decide the course of humanity through a series of rolls with a twenty-sided die. Lyor Cohen is responsible for our current Middle East policy.

11. If you are caught with a dead hooker, call Edward James Olmos and he will make it all disappear.

As you can see there is a bevy of lessons one must master in order to become a truly great celebrity, like Jason Patrick. I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into celebrity life, wish we could talk more but I have to finish up a chapter about getting your privates on the internet. Until next week, toodles.

My Life is Better Than Yours

Jay Gloss was kind enough to give me this space to rant and rave about whatever I wanted, and after pondering how I can add something new and interesting to the PhilaFlava landscape, I decided the way forward was to let you guys into my life. See here’s the thing: my life is much different than yours because I am famous. Granted I am not famous in the way that Geraldo Rivera is famous, but I’m closing in. Let’s check the stats:

1. I have underground cred, meaning I was part of a mid-90’s rap crew that never really put anything out, still kinda loosely exists today, and some kids even trade dusty tapes of our shit.

2. At one point in my life I had beef with Sole. Even though it was stupid, I still did it. Did you??? No. I didn’t think so.

3. I have numerous vinyl singles that I am featured on.

4. I laid down a sub-par verse on the Can Ox album.

5. I am signed to Def Jux.

6. I dropped The Multi-Platinum Debut Album, which went multi-thousand, with my group Hangar 18.

7. I have toured the world (well at least the only part of the world that matters, the U.S. Fuckin Aye) over seven times.

8 I know the guys from Fall Out Boy.

9. I know Icon the Mic King, Gentle Jones and Mindbender Futurama personally.

10. Rob Sonic and I drink quite together quite a bit.

11. I have been to Canada.

12. I’ve been given free clothes because of who I am.

13. Finally, I have slept with women who were only interested in me because of my status in 'the rap game'.

As you can see, I lead quite a rich life, but what else would you expect? I am Philaflava’s fourth most famous rapper, after Slug, El and Blueprint. And yes, I know all of them personally.

This space will be dedicated to giving you an insider’s view of the rap game and all of its trappings. It will be kinda like the Beef DVD series if I was one of the twenty-nine people Royce the 5’9 has beef with, and it wasn’t beef but it was about us hanging out and doing shit famous people do together. I think you get the drift. Every week I will check in and let you know about the cool shit I get to do because I am me. Things like hanging out with my friend Rob Sonic in the Boogie Down Bronx and drinking, having a good laugh with Despot and Cryptic at a New York City show in the VIP section (or what some people would call the “merch booth”), or even something crazy like kickin’ it in the green room at Jimmy Kimmel because I am friends with other famous people like Gym Class Heroes.

I think you are getting the point. I am relatively famous and I do the types of things that relatively famous people do.

Here’s a perfect example: as you may know, I live in New York City which is one of the most expensive cities in the world. In order to make ends meet, I often have to do freelance work when I am not on the road. Sure, it’s not glamorous but it allows me the freedom to up and go at a moments notice, much like Robert DeNiro in Heat.

One of my freelance jobs was with a company called Niche Media, they publish a bunch of magazines people like you wouldn’t know about because they are for people like me: the rich and famous. One of the magazines they produce is called Gotham, it is their flagship magazine. Well, Gotham Magazine was having their fifth anniversary party and, sure as shit, the Hangar was on the scene. We were rubbing elbows with the likes of Rudolph Giulliani, James Lipton, Mya, Dame Dash, Dipset, and even the Sugar Hill Gang. The party was in full swing and we were taking full advantage of the free food and drinks. By this time I had already spilled half a drink on Juelz’s custom Uptowns while trying to introduce myself with three drinks in my hand, yelled obscenities at Naomi Campbell, and took pictures of Mya’s ass. All pretty much standard fare for someone of my status, nothing too really get excited about. What I didn’t realize was that I would learn one of the most important lessons of my life this evening.

We started chatting it up with the members of the Sugar Hill Gang. I don’t know which ones they were because father time was not kind to any of them. As the conversation went on, the topic of groupie love came up, and this is where--as the kids say--the science was dropped. Apparently the members of the Sugar Hill Gang had their lawyers draw up what they are calling “The Fuck Contract,” which stated that the members of the Sugar Hill Gang are not responsible for anything that happens as a result of a sexual liaison with a groupie. It didn’t matter if it was pregnancy, herpes or death. The contract also stipulated that the women were not allowed to contact the members of the Sugar Hill Gang after the evening of old school loving. So, needless to say, I was intrigued. The next day I called my lawyer, one James Don Wilson, III Esq., and discussed the merits of such a contract. Within a week, I had my very own version of the contract wrapped up and really, it’s been a godsend. I have used it twice, and it has saved me numerous headaches. If you should ever rise above yourself and join the ranks of the famous I highly recommend you get your very own “Fuck Contract,” it’s the only way to roll. Especially if you like going raw dog like me.

I hope you enjoy my life as much as I do, I am genuinely looking forward to taking this journey together, and I suggest you make the most of it, because the majority of people here will never be famous…trust me, I opened that ‘show us your mugs’ thread and, outside of that Cuban chick that only kinda shows her face, you guys are fucked.

Anyway, I have important famous-esque things to do like take a cab ride with a panty-less Trischelle from The Real World. Until next week, remember you may never be able to experience the excitement of my life first hand, but together we can learn how much better my life is than yours