Friday, December 30, 2005
Not the prettiest site, but it breaks Kwanzaa down to a kid/basic level.
This is the day of self-determination, and I was DETERMINED not to participate. Why? Because it was hard enough to work and then make that drive in rush hour traffic, but to find out my mother wanted me to MC the event too???? Oh hell to the naw! I would have had to prepare a small speech, talk about stuff I haven't talked about since last year....no. So I got there without busting my ass and FloJo was MCing. Great! TheOffspring helped out and did a great job. I was very proud of him. Its great/odd to see him act mature and accordingly when you want him to. How about that?
The day ofPurpose. I was struggling with the concept because the only damn thing I wanted to purposefully with was the bed. The day before I made the mistake of being lazy and not going to the Laundromat until 11. The good part was that there weren't that many people in there. The scary part was the attendant. She seemed like she was 2 pills short of a lithium overdose. At one point, she blurted out loud as shit "LAUNDRYBAGS!" I thought it was some type of inner qualm she was having with herself but she was talking to another woman in the joint. And oh man she was trippin' when the show "Cheaters" came on. **same audible level** "THAT DON'T MAKE NO GADDAMN SENSE!! YOU GOT YOU A MAN, HE WORK AND YOU GONNA CHEAT! THEY MAKE ME SICK WITH THAT! IF HE AIN'T HAD NO JOB YOU BE CRYIN' ABOUT THAT! THESE WOMENZ OUT HERE DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL THEY WANT!!"
Uh, yeah. That was her at 1:30 in the morning. Only in B-more.
Needless to say the next day I was worthless and luckily my work day was slow. Earlier in the month I had been invited to a Kwanzaa celebration over my cousin's house. (Hmmm...I gave her a pseudonym a long time ago but I forgot it. We will refer to her as WasNotWas) Her idea was to invite all of her friends and family over for an evening of creativity. She bought a bunch of small low-end jewelry boxes, beads, strings, clasps, paints, brushes, and small canvases. In her dining room were copies of old magazines spread all over the floor. We were told to use all of the items to create something artistic. She also had a big canvas called the community canvas where each of us would paint or paste something on the canvas. I didn't do any of those activities being the literary ar-tist that I am **hehehe**. I decided to read 2 of my poems; both of which are here on the site if you missed them. (Today, What It Is) Luckily, when it was poetry time I didn't have to do the freestyle poetry which consisted of topics such as Lemirs and Thanksgiving Dinner, the Ramblewood Hood, Hit and Run, olives in CT, and Masturbation and Jelly Doughnuts. The freestyle consisted of limericks, haikus, and a rap. Hehehe....I have to add this; the freestyle began with WasNotWas on her stairs yelling "You ready for some poetry, bitches??" TOO Funny!
All in all it was a fun night. I'm so glad she came up with the idea; don't you just love artsy-fartsy folks?
Ok. y'all know me. There just had to be a caveat to the night, right? Especially based on my arrogance. So after I read my poems, I was approached by one of the many although one of the few lipstick lesbians in the lot. Convo below.
YouveGottaBeKiddingMe: Hi! You're WasNotWas's cousin right?
Me: Yes. **smile, of course**
YouveGottaBeKiddingMe: Hey, I really enjoyed your poetry. You and your cousins are very captivating with your eyes. Like they were talking directly to me when you were reading.
Me: **me "and my cousins", huh? hmm** Yeah, I guess its a family thing, huh?
YouveGottaBeKiddingMe: Yeah. **laugh** I'm from AZ and we just never have things like this. This is awesome.
Me: Hehehe...that's a whole different breed out there, I'm sure. Kwanzaa is recognized pretty well over here. I assume that's not the case there.
YouveGottaBeKiddingMe: Ohh no! Are you kidding? Not a whole lot of culture in AZ.
**short pause smiling at each other and nodding**
Me: Well, we were just about to head out, it was nice meeting you, YouveGottaBeKiddingMe. See you at the next shindig. **friendly rub on arm**
YouveGottaBeKiddingMe: Nice meeting you too. See you later.
Alright. That was the convo and here is the visual. I'm putting my coat on and look up to see this South American goddess approach me. Tall, thick and long curly hair, very modelesque. The first reaction is "Damn! Hot!". The second reaction is "Oh. She's gay. This convo will be like a business transaction." So that was my mindset. Now, when she stops to talk to me, she **and this is not an exaggeration** is in my personal space. Not near it, in it. I could have grabbed her by the hips and slobbed her down; she was just that close. Then something else kicked in in my mind "What the fuck is she doing? Ohhh!! Its the gay-girl-teases-str8-guy thing. I'm wit it." And yes, I have documented proof that this thing exists! **waving folded papers**
Women. Just when I think I got it, I ain't got shit. Single men, my prayers are with you.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
The Oakland Raiders are probably one of the more disappointing teams in the NFL. There were lots of high hopes; a seasoned veteran QB, the aquisition of probably the best reciever in football. But like the Roots, Things Fall Apart. Kerry Collins suddenly became cross-eyed and the team's defense is old and damn near crippled. I mean, he lost his job to a 3rd year QB who has lost the starting job at least twice.
Monday, December 26, 2005
What goes along with that is that WHEN I see him, he always seems to have a story about some great fatherly deed he had done. Needless to say, there aren't but so many given that I was 2 when they split.
My parents relationship had little to do with me, but the one thing that made me mad at my mom was naming me after my father. Bad Reasoning #1: You knew that he wasn't going to be around too much longer, so why the hell would you make me a junior? He wasn't even at the hospital when I was born. #2: His name sucks!! Of course I'm not going to tell you my real name, but here are some hints: Think of names for boys in 2 Tiers; Names That Suck (NTS)and Name That Really Fucken Suck (NTRFS). Ok. Find in the NTS index of the 10 worst names for a boy in the 20th Century. One of those is probably my middle name. Now, go thru the NTRFS and find the top 5 worst names for a boy in the 20th Century; THAT...my friends, would be my first name. Add a last name that is one of the most common surnames in America along with "Jr" and there you have Brother Kojak's name. Ta-to the fucken-da.
Now I'm going to tie all this together. My father's "I was a great dad" stories with the banged up name for a Black child of the 70's. So he, my wife, my uncle and I are all talking in the kitchen and my father asked me how I dealt with introducing myself with the TheBangedUpName. I said I would just go ahead and introduce myself as such because if I used a nickname, it would end up coming out later anyway so what the hell? He goes, "I would never introduce myself with THeBangedUpName; I would always go by my first two initials. But you know what, I didn't even want to name you TheBangedUpName. I wanted to name you Orlando."
Me:What? Why didn't you name me Orlando instead? I'm not crazy about the name, but its 10 times better than TheBangedUpName!"
SoCalledFather:That wasn't my call. Your mother for some reason wanted to make you a junior.
**BELLS GO OFF...bullshit meter!**
My father is the King of Bullshit. His subtitle is the Earl of Embellishment. I can't fathom my mom wanting to name me TheBangedUpName. It just don't match given the circumstances. So I went to the source and asked MommaCrazy...
MommaCrazy: He said what??? Shiiiiit. You know damn well that bitch wasn't nowhere around so I know you ain't believe him!
So who knows? Knowing my father, he probably came up with that name about 2 or 3 years after they split, "Yeah, Orlando! Now that is a great name for a child!" He got issues. He ain't nutty or nothing, he just lives in his own little world. The problem is, I hate my name so much, the "what if" portion just is gonna eat me alive for the next month or two.
I could have had normal name....not one that goes well with kindergarten teasing, not one that makes 12 year old girls giggle at introduction...a normal, none bodily function sounding name. **sigh** The universe can be so cruel.
Friday, December 23, 2005
|Good God in the Mornin'! The Detroit Lions exemplify Corporate America: blame the other guy. Matt Millen is Shit Monkey personified. He lands one of the more respected head coaches in the league and fires him even though he brought the coach in with no talent and no love from the front office. The Lions have never been a great team, but they were at least competitive. Ever since Millen's reign as General Manager the team has made one bad move after the other. Most recently being his drafting of 3 wide recievers in a row; one thinks that the Cheesecake Factory is literally that, one that has never seen a piss test that he could pass, and one that is about as durable as an old man in a whorehouse and no Viagra. On top of that, they've stuck with the same quarterback for the past 4 years and he has made no real progress. The freaky part, Detroit fans have organzied protests not only in Detroit, but damn near nationwide! Life is hard when you ain't shit...|
If only the Lions looked this good...
Thursday, December 22, 2005
So I wanted to buy a gift someone at Target today. Why Target? Anyone who reads my blog knows how much I hate Target. And because of the website my friend-in-hiding Zoph found, I hate Sam and Dem even more. I would rather go the extra 5 miles to get a crisper, more efficient, friendlier-service experience. I hate to say it, but even though the 2 giants consider themselves competitors, they have 2 different consumers. WalMart has the I-graduated-from-the-projects/trailer park customer. They really don't care what or how the shit is thrown together, as long as its priced right. Target's customer base is the minivan-mommies/Movado-watch-wearing/Whole Foods-shopping folks. I must be in the later category because I'd rather go to the proctologist than go shopping at WalMart; at least you're getting something constructive done.
And so begins the dichotomy a la Brother Kojak:
I hit the Target parking lot and found I did not have to park damn near 3 blocks away like at WalMart.
In front of the Target, are about 8 giant, red, hard plastic balls that you will always see kids climbing over as they follow their parents to the entrance. These balls also act as cart-stops. At WalFart, the only thing in front of the store are some raggedy-ass, discontinued 3rd World reject, forever-splintering (even if its plastic)playground "system". The red balls don't move at Target, but Sam and Dem know that a weak parent is sucker to whining child..
One my way in, I almost get run over nervous looking suburban mom. You know me; I chalk that shit up to Accepted Priviledge; something that could happen at either store.
Just inside, I notice the next difference (well, outside of the clean floor, walls, no roaches smoking Marlboros at the mini-McDonalds, and the increased lighting); Sam and Dem would NEVER not have shopping carts available inside. The more shit you can stack, the more Sam and Dem line their pockets. But it actually was an inconvenience because I thought I needed one. I'll manage.
This next thing has nothing to do with the store, but the clientele. No one tried to run me over with a cart or accidentally smash the shit outta me with a big ass pocketbook, or rush to get in front of me only to push their cart at a snail's pace. I actually was able to walk down the aisle without problem.
Now here's what blows my mind; even though WalFart caters to a more frugal group, why is their shit higher? I got a B-more Ravens tee (to be seen soon....hehehe) for just under $8. Boom. Similar shirt at WalFart was pushing $15.
Ok, the last and final juxtaposition. The check out line. Yeah. I get to the check out line and...wait...what is this? I have....a CHOICE?? A Choice of standing in regular line with 1 person in front of me or walking down to the very last aisle where there is an...no, can it be? Holy Monkey Shit there are TWO FUCKEN EXPRESS LINES!!!!!! I won't even GO there with Shitty Blue.
(this is where I dance in a circle in slow motion smiling and embracing myself)
I get in one of the 2. Uh oh. No price tag. Oh shit...oh no...NO!! I'm having a WalFart Flashback! I'm in line, behind Ester from Sandford and Son, and behind me is Reba McIntyre and her cretin children yelling and fighting who claim to be siblings but don't look shit alike....getting....light-headed....must....must...
TargetGirl: Sir? SIR?
TargetGirl: Excuse me?
Me: (in crazed look with sweat bubbles) huh?
Somehow, the cashier next to her (obviously knowledgeable in the study of Shopping Primordialism) knew what the deal was and held it down before I kirked out with the flashback escalating. He looked at the tag and said "Oh. This is fine. Just type in this number (pointing) with code XYZ and that will give you the right price." Sure the FUCK enough, that was the right damn price. Shall I exemplify the Sam and Dem experience? Do I REALLY have to go there? Alright...you being hard-headed..."(loud as a mutha fucka) Hey Tadesha! Get a price check on dis shirt. Oh! And bring me a box of Stayfrees on your way back. I'm crampin' somethin' ter-rible!"
(15 minutes later...) "Damn bitch! Took you long enough! Get Tammy over here so I can leave and take care of my shit. Damn! And I JUST got these unda-wears too!
On the real though, Target seems to do a lot more community service, even if its just monetary. As far as Prince Georges County is concerned (and I have 1st hand knowledge of this), Target is the slam dunk with a score of about 5 to WalMart's 0. 5 being the number of community initiatives Target has donated to in Prince George's County. I'll always be a WalMart hater. And I don't know...WalMart bashing is becoming a fast growing enthusiasm of mine. **smile**
Friday, December 16, 2005
Hello all. Finals are over, I'm still sick, but a lot less bitter. I have a few things in mind to do during the break. Odd thing is, I've just freed up a bunch of time on my schedule and I can't think of anything to blog about. So I'm going to do a random thing.
Women's Underwear: Hey...we men love them. Well, only when they are on the woman. Its just one of those things. When its time to get intimate, a woman can approach you in those cute, matching undies that drives you crazy every time.
But you know what? Fellas, they don't do it for us, they do it for themselves! Why do you think they buy matching sets? Do make it look good for us? Men, let's be for real, our clothes only match because women want our clothes to match. Do you know what women are doing in the morning after their showers? Putting on their undies and posing. Its a damn shame, man. They're in there looking at how their butts look in the panties, if the bra increases her bust line or pushes up her boobs, or if she shaved close enough around the bikini line(if she cares). So fellas, stop getting siced when you see her bouncing around in the undies; it damn sure aint for you.
I realize that I miss Christmas parties. How very odd. I was talking to PrettyPussy(Cat) about that the other day and trying to explain how you don't miss something until its gone. I currently work for a university. Our Christmas party was during the workday where the boss channeled off about 2-3 hours for us to eat and do that weird gift swap thing. What's it called...Christmas Bingo? Anyway, we did that and that was cool. But when compared the "Do 'Em Up" Christmas parties of the past when I worked for Lockheed Martin or the Suburban Hospital That's Not In the Suburbs (SHiTNIS). At SHitNIS, the doctors would pay for a small ballroom or rent the majority space of a restaurant so that we could eat and dance. That was always fun because you got see some of the FYNE sista's ugly ass boyfriends (am I hatin'?), see how the supervisors acted when they got a little buzzed, or noticed how people danced. It was a real good time and people got talked about hard the following Monday. The Lockheed parties were a little different. Its such a huge company and I worked for such a small division that was a division of Homeland Security. Very lavish; a great setting for me to act bad as usual. We would sit there with our wives smiling all the while nudging each other under the table when we saw someone fine come along. This is going to sound arrogant, but one party I was the source of a few whispers. THe DJ played the gamit of music that (and when he played go-go music, it was time for my ass to leave)went from Bing Crosby to Lil' Jon. Evidently he did a visual scan of the room and saw there there were enough latinos to play some salsa and merengue. The Mrs and I got up and did our thing for a few songs. When I got back, my boy says "Ahhh...Senor Kojak. You have a fan club, dude!"
KeefAndDem: yeah. See them honeys over there? Those 4, one with the blus spaghetti strap dress?
Me: Oooooh yeah! She bangin'!
KeefAndDem: Yeah. That's them. Her and her crew were checking you and your wife dance like 'Damn! They dance like they know what they doing!'
Me: (pimp laugh) Eh he eh he eh HE! Well pimp, I guess a playa need to not put all his styles in the streets, huh? N'yamean?
**sigh** I want to go on vacation. I want to get outta town and act a fool. So much so that I would feel compelled to go to the mosque upon my return. Ain't THAT some shit!I got issues.
I'm also running out of things to blog. Or at least, things that are worthy of being blogged. Lets hope that I get off my ass and start doing some of the things that could be interesting to blog about. I COULD talk about the fact that I'm the shit-talking-est, no coochie-getting-est kat I know. It's a damn shame too. All dat damn mouth. The one thing a married man wants that none are willing to admit is that "let's play" effect on women. You want to be able to flirt and get the blush with the smile. I get the eye roll, sucking of the teeth, accompanied by the proverbial exclamation point "Nigga, please!". But, tonight is the typical Daddy Duty Sat.; writing in my blog and watching my son read a damn book. UGH. Vegas, a bottle of Gran Marnier, and 2 Brasillian girls who don't speak English but think I'm Danny Fortson from the Seattle SuperSonics (see post before last) are calling me!!
Thursday, December 15, 2005
You are "the Bobs".
You are basically in a position of power. With the
ability to fire people at will, you can make
them do almost anything you want. Like forcing
someone to lie about their true feelings for
adult contemporary artists.
Which Office Space Character Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Now, back to my own selfish endeavors. I have asked a couple of you to help me with my NFL Wrap Up. Those of you who said that you would contribute, please email me your goodies sooner than later. Excited as I am? Probably not...
Other business, Neckbone, if you are reading this, email me. My address is in my profile. I have a cool idea to present to you.
Its wintertime, and as usual, i bitch about the east coast weather. Man, this is some ol' bullshit! I hate the cold! What I need to do is graduate and find me a job in Miami. I think I could thrive there because its a facetious, cubano town; 2 things I am not. Given that the weather and scenery is beautiful down there, I could be entertained on that. Also given that I wouldn't really fit in, I would be able to focus on career and family and stay out of trouble. See? Its perfect!
When it comes to music, my knowledge-base is more geared towards R&B than anything else. Not because its my favorite genre of music, but because I've exposed to it more. What I notice in R&B is that it is sometimes not as dynamic as other genres. Like in the 70's, Stevie Wonder was the Producer Extrordinaire (PE). Then Nigel Rogers of Chic fame who probably is the most prolific because he to this day STILL has his hands is music production. Roger Troutman (God rest ya life) was a standout for a minute. Then came Gene Griffin who ACTUALLY was stealing styles from his protege son Teddy Riley. And some of us know Teddy Riley from Guy, Wrecks N' Effect, and Black Street fame. his resume is diverse. He even produced and arranged a song for Boy George. Go figure. Right behind him would have to be Timbaland who actually claimed to be the Teddy Riley of the 90's. Now its Mr. Bighead himself, Kanye West. This is kat is so self-absorbed his MC name should be SpongeBob. At the same time, he produces results.
Uh....why I brought all that up I don't know.
I just had a talk with a woman about feminism. I was facinated because this chic reminds me of June Cleaver 2000. Likes to cook, clean, and all that domestic shit. At the same time she strongly believes in the empowerment of women sans the bra burning. It is her opinion that that part of feminism ruined the movement. She believes in the No More Than, No Less Than philosophy. I think her way of thinking is actually making a comeback. Women of today look at their aunts and 2nd cousins who are childless and still single yet have all the loot they could ever want. They see them showing up to family gatherings alone, cell phone pressed to the ear. They see them break out the pics of their pugs or himalayan cats when others pull out family albums. Maybe thats the life they have chosen, maybe not. Women are looking at women like Heidi Klum and Catherine Zeta Jones, pretty women who can still be mommies. (Sorry, those are the only examples I could think of)
Man, I'm done. I'll holla.