Now THAT'S A Carry

What's a carry? That's when you accidently or purposeful embarrass someone verbally or physically (All so referred to as "jonin" in the African-American East Coast disaspora). Evidently, I have a tattoo on my head that says "please, jone on me at will". 3 times this week I've gotten my chest busted open from getting carried. Here are the incidents:

Scene: Glueman's home office listening to Eric Roberson
Glueman: Damn. That boy is a bad mutha fucka.
Me: Yea. He tight. **deep breath** Yup! taught him everything I know.
Glueman: Hmph! I bet that shit ain't take long....


Scene: Whole family walking in driveway on the way out
Ms. Kojak: Fag!
Me: Your muva.
Ms. Kojak: Shit! YOUR mutha! She the one with all the gay girlfriends. How gay is THAT?
Me: Shiiiiiit! The jury still out on your muva.
Ms. Kojak: Hmph! My mother LOVES men. You know that.
Me: Yea, is any of them got another name besides Jesus? (Jesus, not Jesus as in Hay-sus)
Ms. Kojak: SHUT UP, KOJAK!!
Me: Hehehehe...alright. By the way, don't let me forget that I need to get some dog food.
Ms. Kojak: ok, but what are the rest of us gonna eat?


Scene: kitchen during breakfast
Me: I'm curious as to how this thing (sports) is gonna work out.
Ms. Kojak: I am too. Good luck.
Me: Man, if I can pull this off I'll be the man.
Ms. Kojak: Oh baby, you ARE the man.
Me: Thank you, baby!
Offspring: hey dad....
Me: Yes?
Offspring: Boooooooooooo!

Hmmm. That's love for you. If that's what you wanna call it.

Why We Men Ain't Shit

...So I'm in the office at work and there is a knock on the door. I open it, and invite the student in. GLAD I DID! NIIIIICE! Now, I am very conservative when it comes to looks, but the eye-brow piercing on this chic was just hot. She was a cute cute girl by herself, but the piercing made her sinfully cute. Winner winner, chicken dinner.
Its about 20 minutes later and I'm walking towards the office. Guess who's there? Uh huh, Buttercup. (no, the nick is not a term of endearment; its reminiscent of what she was wearing) I walk towards her, and I can see from my shadow that I'm doing a cross between George Jefferson and Rudy from Fat Albert walk. I, uh, straightened out the walk and noticed a decoy; my man from the Athletic Club. I stood and rapped with him, waved and smiled at Buttercup. All of the sudden, things got great and messed up at the same time. While I was talking to dude, the FYYYYNEST woman on campus (a grad assistant to some truly lucky professor) walked by smiling and waving to someone across the way. I continued to talk, but head followed as she glided past. What was so good about her? I don't even know where to start. But the point of the story is, I looked out of the corner of my eye to see if Buttercup had been watching my action and reaction. Sure enough, I was caught red-eyed. Oh well, I like the way things jiggle the RIGHT way on a woman. Not feeling the multiple rolls jiggling. But that's a different blog. At least she knows I'm not gay. **wink**
Damn I ain't shit....

And here is another way I ain't shit. There is a woman who was giving me the blues during her computer's migration. Her email starting screwing up and check this out, she saw me walking to another assignment and screams out the window of the shuttle bus "Kojak!! You need to come back to my office!" I was blown. Where was the couthe? But what's worse is that if she was fine, I would have gone right over there and fixed her computer.
Damn I ain't shit...


Ok, need you guys help. A friend of mine REALLY needs some work. She is bilingual, honors graduate, and is a certified Java developer. I think at this point she's ready to move if she needs to. If any of you know of some opportunities matching her skillset, shoot me an email.

Getting It Together

I apologize for my loack of blogging lately, but now that the Offspring is all beastly with the football thang, I have little time for much else. 2 Fridays ago there were some things I wanted to blog about. I think I mentioned we went to a theme park, but what I left out was the fact that I am in the infant stages of being a Dirty Old Man. We were standing in line for a ride and there was a young lady waiting to get on. Gorgeous. Bikini top. Poon-poon shorts. Niiice! Then it dawned on me "This is a water ride. If she gets splashed on.....woo hoo!" So, I stood in line waiting anxiously for her log to hit the splashline. I saw and heard her group go down the drop, but I didn't see her get out of the ride. Damn! And so it begins....

Cheez-Wiz pick-up Line of the Day (used by yours truly): Hi there. You know, you look a lot like my cousin, and SHE is gorgeous!

Sunday I singed the hair on my arm trying to be Emeril and shit. My mom asked me to get on the grill. Me being the patient person that I am (yeah right) I tossed in about 2 handfuls of Match Light and closed the lid. When I opened the lid back up, I instantly had blond hair on my arms. Genius.

I didn't share this with you all, but I interviewed for a promotion here at work. I got it. Yea me! Now I at least I have the option of making mac-da-roni and cheese with Kraft cheddar instead of the US Department of Agriculture giveway cheese.

Find The Way

After the concert in Jersey, this song has been bouncing in my head for days. I think because before he sang it, he explained how the fellas would come up to him and tell him how that song effected them with respect to their relationship. Then he said something relatively profound: Just because you aren't preaching or singing gospel, you still can minister to people without even knowing it." Something to think about.

Find The Way
by Eric Roberson

How can I have you?
And never really have you?
At least not like I want to
Your heart should not be shared
Or should not be compared
To any other love that’s there
That’s just not fair
IIIII…. I’m down to loose you
For a chance to gain you
Even if all I gain
Is the respect that you see in me
I’m willing to set you free (I’m willing to set you free)
All I offer you is honesty (offer is honesty)
I mean honestly


You know
I need you
But girl not, this way
I want something
Much more than
What you’ll give today
To show you
I want you
I’ll push you away
If its meant
To be girl
I trust that it will find a way

Too close to hold on
But trust me I intend to
Though I’m deep into you
I hope I’ll find my way
I hope you’ll be ok
Holding on to just what I say
While we’re away
Ohhhh….its hard to leave you
I feel like I breathe you
I look to survive
Holding on to my dreams at night
That’s the only time I hold you tight
Waking up just don’t feel right
No it just ain’t right

You know
I need you
But girl not, this way
I want something
Much more than
What you’ll give today
To show you
I want you
I’ll push you away
If it’s meant
To be girl
I trust that it will find a way

Eric Roberson
The Vault-Vol 1.5



Copyright 2004, Blue Erro Soul

I Love Her

Since the first time I met her, I realized that when I grow up, I wanted to be her Sugar Daddy. Come into the crib and incidentally hear her singing an improptu verse in a jazzed-up Swiss yodel or humming like the sista-who-really-isn't-a-sista over a sink full of dirty dishes. I think about her during DC traffic jams, nights when instead of watching "The Latest Reality Show" I could be wrapped helplessly in vibes like a helpless fish caught by a kaleidoscopic octopus. Yet I'd be accepting and enchanted.
She no longer lives near me; she is now a resident of the Great Metropolis. A place where even she can be considered somewhat typical. I'm sure she weaves her spells to others in the Great Metropolis in the same calculating matter; some of her "victims" unsuspecting, others prepare for the hex with a smile. However, every now and then she comes home. Her visits are short and sometimes a surprise. And even though I've been under her spell for a few years, I was angered by the fact that I missed my opportunity to be hypnotized once again. Seduced and left sitting in place with a preposterous grin on my face as evidence. It was my turn again and I missed her. It won't happen again. And the next time I see her, I will make sure she leaves with me, permanently. For I will be prepared and have MY OWN set of spells ready to cast upon the doors of her soul. The relationship will no longer be hapless victim to siren, it will be Sugar Daddy to maven.

Ok...so that was a little over the top; but I am definitely infatuated with this woman's musical style. When I saw her give a solo on piano, I was blown. Not just because it sounded so good, but because she sounded good AND had the flu AND just finished driving down from NYC to DC during both cities rush hours. That's the type of heart I like in a woman. Hmmm...I wonder if she knows how to make waffles in high heels? **smile with evil laugh**

Spyware Fix

Alright, my semi-techie skills came thru and I was unable to remove the PSGuard virus. I went to a couple of sites to find what registry keys to delete, but I don't recommend doing this unless you know how to run thru your Reg. Editor. So semi-freeware to download to avoid my same fiasco can be found from Ewibo and Spyware Nuker.

Microsoft is The Devil

Them AND the Java Virtual Machine (JVM). If you have auto updates for the JVM, delete it. I got a damn trjan virus from it. Still trying to get rid of it. As soon as I find the cure, I'll post it. So far, Symantic can only quarantine it and Stinger can't even find it. The virus took over my desktop and forwards to some bitch-ass website selling anti-spyware. Fuck that! Gimmie the damn fix! I didn't for the virus OR your sorry ass "assistance!"

Football practice was pretty good. Usually I job while the Offspring knocks kids on their asses. Way to muggy for that shit. I need to do a lite workout tomorrow though. I got Kings Dominion and the 4 Brothers movie tomorrow. Worst of all, I need to get laid! Why can't I get laid? Because I seem to have a "sports-related" injury. Seems that I was a little to aggressive with Mrs Kojak a couple weeks ago. I ended up cutting my self. I have a new camera phone and took a pic of the injury. Just scroll down:
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Now see? If you scrolled down this far, you are livin' trife! Like I'm going to post a pic of my dizzak! Be for real! Nasty trollops......hehehhe

Convo With The Offspring

Monday night I had an interesting conversation with my son at our favorite All-U-Can-Eat. It was one of those interesting conversation that needs to be noted.

Offspring: Hey dad...
Me: Yes?
Offspring: Why did you cut your hair?
Me: Because it was too long and heavy. Plus certain jobs don't think its cool to have hair that long.
Offspring: I want the old dad back.
Me: Huh? What do you mean? I'm right here!
Offspring: I want the old dad back with long hair, not short hair.
Me: Why?
Offspring: You just shouldn't cut your hair.
Me: Hmmmm...ok.

The Wisdom of a child. What's really odd about the convo was his demeanor. He spoke knowingly and with continuity unlike his usual hyper and choppy delivery. It reminds me of a convo I had with my mom a long time with my mom. I remember telling her that she acted stupid when she smoked weed. She's never smoked after that. I wonder was he trying to tell me something subversively?

Aww Man!

I HATE going commando!

Hey Jen....This One is Long Too II

Jen, I'm breaking this up for your ass....

Friday:
Everybody loves the computer guy. Especially the women who think they can use their feminine wiles on me. Unfortunately, it worked. What can I say? Women are from Venus, men are from The Alley That You're Allowed Beat Off In. So I saved the damsel in distress. Whoppee. I've come to realize that my son, the gentle offspring of Brother Kojak has a propensity for football. He gets ready all extra early, full gear for about an hour or so before practice starts. This is the same kid that likes gardening, baking cookies, and walks a little suspect. This same child gets excited to knock another kid on his ass. Anger issues or something. Go figure.
After practice I drop him off at his nana's house. From there I head over to hang out with my boy ElHíbridoRojo. He and I have a verbal battleevery timeeaccusingg the other of being a pimp. I had to ask him why is it so difficult for him given the incredible ratio of women to men in the DC area. His answer was the quantity vs qualityargumentt. He is looking for a spiritual woman that is grounded and down to earth. My answer to that was just do the damn thing. Some seemingly snotty women may have that attitude just as a1stt defense. They don't want then kats with the orange suit and matching shoes steppin' to them. I doubt they want Steve Urkel as well. He agreed and found it a valid point. As contrite as that may be, that was a break thru for the 2 of us. Unfortunately, I think that's how the convo went because I was a tad inebriated.

Hey Jen....This One is Long Too

I have a week of blogging to make up for, so bear with me.


Thursday
The work week was fine, nothing that I'm going to get into here at this moment in time. Thursday I was trying to recruit people to go to Hopkins Plaza to see Raheem DeVaughn. To all of those you who are on the fence, give this brother some love. He performs with an energy and skill level that is unparalleled. To those who don't know, take a male version of Mary J. Blige and toss in a huge helping of Marvin Gaye, and that's Raheem. Trust me, if you like Marvin Gaye in any capacity, cop this album.
The concert was a lot of fun. Glueman and I hit the scene much to the dismay of Mrs Kojak ( "Damn you! You KNOW I like Raheem!") I really wasn't sure she'd want to see him, plus in the back of my mind I realized that back in the day you NEVER took your girl to Hopkins Plaza. If you did, it would be like asking for a slap upside the head or gettin' the coochie cut off from you. Why? Because you'd be breakin' your neck looking at all of the scenery. So Glueman and I are chillin', laughin', jokin'. The sites are lovely of course, and then Raheem hits the stage. I can't go into a lot of detail about the performance, it was great; even especially when he brought the homeless man up on the stage to dance. What I wanted to point out was the difference between us Baltimorians and Washingtonians. Raheem was calling to the audience for that audience participation. He got. Had he tried that in DC, he would have been disappointed. I think its the fact that folks from both cities like to profile, but Washingtonians profile not only based on "I'm looking good", but also on "I wonder can anyone watching me get me an even phatter job than I already have." Now, when you have that mentality, you can't really let loose because your next potential boss may be watching. So when a perform says "Sing wit' me!", in DC all you hear is the chirping of Blackberrys.

The "Huh?" Effect of The Day: I was working with the new guy setting up some system. He looked wiped out so I asked him what was wrong. "I was up until 2 in the morning." he said with a yawn. "Oh?" **Shit, Kojak....don't ask, don't ASK!** "Why were you up so late?" **damn I hope he says he was working on getting some coochie or watching some porn....** "Well my superhero team needed me. I couldn't just leave them hanging."
Internet game. A fucken internet game. You loose sleep to play with some other jerk-offs for an Internet game.

sigh.....

What It Is

This weekend was pretty good albeit unmemorable. I gave Glueman a project for his namesake, watched one of the hottest scenes in cinema featuring Teri Hatcher, and flexed my pimp skills (yea right). What was most interesting what another racial observation; this one a lot more positive. I'm going to describe it the form of a poem because that is just the way it felt.

What It Is

What the deal is, bruh?

I feel you

you got that beat bangin' in your dome

the hi-hat and bass drum in unison from one earhole to the other

BOOM-bip-bip-boom. boom-BIP

you point your chin in the direction of the beat

as if teaching a class of audio-sensory deprived students how to feel dat(n'yamean?)

but peep this, bruh

you aint got no music, man.

there aint no boombox

no radio

no I-Pod

just you in the back of a pick-up truck

your clothes a testament to your daily labor

city traffic surrounds you

the waste of automotive emissions fills your nostrils

and all the while you are oblivious

because you have

BOOM-bip-bip-boom. boom-BIP

It's all to the good, baby

what it is is what it is

'cause I got it too

you like me, me like you.

Now I'm Scaring White People In General!

In the last post I scared the crap outta a little kid at the airport. Today I scared a white man. Now, I'm used to scaring white women; they have a weird reaction when they see me. Either they walk on the far side of the sidewalk or the other side of the street, or they clutch their purses on elevator. Fact of life. Been like that since I was about 19.
But scaring white men is different. I say that because we as men (most of us at least) are taught that it is weak to show fear to or of another man. Period. Regardless of size, age, whatever. So when another man gets edgy around me, instinctively I exploit it. Not just because I'm an asshole, but because he should know better than to cower in front of me even though I am no where near you nor have I said a word to you. I decided not to exploit it this morning because it was so pitiful. Here's what happened:
I had to drop off a book that was WAY over due. I pull into the back of the library which is where the drop off slot is. I'm not the only one there. A man in his early 50's, late 40's is in his car about to get out to drop off a book as well. As soon as he looks in his rearview mirror and sees me, his door begins to close back and he coincidentally gets a phone call. I proceed to the drop box and drop off my book. When I get back into my car, then he gets out and gives me a fake or "thanks for not beating the shit outta me and taking my car" smile and does his thing. Now the fear was obvious, but 2 things come into question: 1) what the fuck was the cell phone about? Was he gearing to call the popo just in case I did step to him 2.) what thug goes to the library to jump somebody? "Yeah, son. Imma head over to the library and jack somebody's ass. The library son...that's what's poppin'". How that sound? Gimmie a break.

Damn that was long-winded AGAIN! Sorry, Mama.

Scaring The Little White Children

I'm back y'all and all was well. Atlanta to me is just a big, small town with a lot of gay men. What I mean by a big small town is that as big as ATL is, the people seemed pocketed in their little areas. Like when me and Glueman went to eat in the food court of the mall, the first day people were staring at us like martians. Then again, who knows why they were staring. It could have been because we were strangers, they thought we were gay, or both. You talking about self-conscious! We never stood close to each other and no physical contact. What was funny was how the waitress at the one bistro sat us next to eat other instead of across from each other. The only thing that seemed to work was bringing Glueman's female co-worker with us.
The flight down there was a little rough, but tolerable. I will confess too...then brother was broke. I had to give a family member an emergency loan but Glueman spotted me down there. When I got off of the plane, I ran over few people to get to a restroom bigger than a 3x3 coffin. I headed to baggage claim. I waited. And waited. And waited....In the course of all that waiting I observed a dad and his son having a dispute. Poor guy. It was obvious that he was a divorced dad who only sees his son periodically and was trying to enforce some disipline. Damn was he failing. Josh (age 9ish) wasn't having it. He didn't give him the finger or anything, but he was truly dissing his pops. I thought the man was gonna cry. Of course, Brother Kojak had to intervene. While I was on the phone with Glueman giving his my status, he mentioned food. My response "Oh hell yeah I'm ready to eat. Man, I could eat just about anything right now and put it on the barbeque. YOU know how they do down here! As a matter of fact, I might just eat this little kid standing next to me." Me and Glueman thought it was funny, but I think Josh pissed on himself. I think dad overheard, and graciously told Josh to come on dragging him somewhere across the Baggage Claim. Soon after I realized that I was at the wrong carousel in the first damn place. Retard.
At the rather plush hotel I met up with Glueman, his sexy co-worker AuNatural, and this drunk auditor named Mike. I ordered the Big Ass Nachos and went to town saying little, eating a lot. The next day I rocked a dark brown with blue pinstripped suit to politck with the decision-makers. It went fairly well. Its hard to tell when you impress some people and when you don't, especially this crowd who always have someone under suspicion. The only way that I may have made a favorable impression was by folks remembering my name. I made out prety well with that.
A few thoughts about the ATL: not my kind of city. I don't like big, small towns (except for Austin) and I'm pretty homophobic. Worst of all, I hate seeing so many homeless people. Not because they scare me or I'm intimidated by them, its because in my teens I used to do a lot of volunteer work for the homeless. Also given the facts that 1.) Atlanta is probably the wealthiest city in the South 2.) they are trying to propose an anti-panhandling law that would arrest a beggar the 3rd time he/she is caught by the police. Ok, instead of having the police search out panhandlers instead of real criminals why don't they propose to get these people some place to fucken live???
My trip ended with a bang literally as I was disembarking the plane. My bag accidently swung backwards and knocked the shit out of this little old lady. I apologized, but when I turned around she had this look on her face like she was gonna whoop my ass. I got gully on her ass and said "I SAID I was sorry! Damn!"
Alright...there's more, but I've gotten a complaint here and there about my lengthy entries. Hey, don't y'all know y'all are cheap therapy for me?

Blah Weekend

I am SOOO disappointed in myself. Mostly for some major reasons I won't say here, but for the blog I'm disappointed in myself because I missed the Eric Roberson concert. I'm the kind of man who likes to go to unsigned and barely known artist concerts. He fits the bill perfectly; even the place where he was playing. But I was in one of my rare non-hermit attitudes and didn't want to go by myself. I could have gone with the Castellian, but something told me not to. Maybe there is just too much stuff going on in my head. Seems like my life is in this weird controlled tailspin. When I say control I know what I need to do to adjust it, I'm just not doing it for some reason. I think I'm more afraid of change than I lead up to be.

I have no idea why I'm blogging. I have a business trip to get ready for. My hair is all banged up and way to long for the stoggies I'll be hanging with in the big fat ATL. It's going to be a great opportunity to meet some powerful folks and network. Not that anybody is reading (my last week's stats were just that....weak), but I won't be blogging for those 3 days. If anything jumps off though, I'll have something for y'all on Wednesday.

You know, you women are a trip. I read a large variety of blogs on Blogger. A few months ago haterade was reining supreme. This one particular blogger was using her blog as you would expect; to express her feelings. In the comments section, another blogger shot her in the face with a comment to the degree of "why are you getting upset? You are a grown woman acting like a 18 year. Grow up." Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeow! Cold blooded, son. Cold Blooded.
The point I'm getting to is that this same woman who was hatin', is almost the carbon copy of the critizied blogger. The only difference between the two lifestyles are that one has a child and they live in different cities. That's kind of the lesson I am teaching myself this weekend; when you step in shit, check your ass because it might be your OWN shit you steppin' in.

White Flip Flops

I am one to talk about androgeny given the longer than shoulder length hair, however, there comes a point of going too far. Yesterday, I saw a seemingly hetero brotha walking out of a building with some white flip flops on. White. Flip flops. Now, first of all I think men shouldn't wear flip flops anywhere but the beach and I know that most people strongly disagree with that. Fine. But how about some canvas or black ones? White? WHITE?? C'mon. That's soft as baby balls.


I'm a little short on material today so, uh....I'll be back.

4:31 p.m.
Ok, I'm back, but I STILL don't have any material. Well, this one guy farted on the elevator. I also owe my Hindi readers an apology for the thoughts that went thru my mind during the 15 to 20 minutes that followed. I was carrying a computer and as soon I got off and the doors started closing, he let out this "ugh." sigh. 1st thought: "damn, that ni**a farted." I came back a few minutes later, and there were still aromatic traces of the beans and curry from the crack of his ass. Bitter about that.

I'm also bitter that I missed the business office by 5 freakin' minutes and they wouldn't give me my damn check. WTF? I can't even blame it on The White Man....everybody that works back there is black! Wait....but they are all BLACK WOMEN! A HA!! The new conspirocy, Jack, the black woman trying to hold the black man back! Stuck on "Imma KEEP my foot in his ass! Fuck his overdrawn ass! That's what he get actin' like he all that....STAY broke, you nappy headed basta'd..."
The pain, oh the pain. Sister, why dost thou forsake thy broketh brethren? For be he but a man of simple pleasures and needs. Art thou not thine brother's keeper?

**patting my emptying pockets and sniffling** Damn, y'all ain't shit.....

Night of Boxing???

Not really. My cousin (Glueman) and I hit the Jillian's of Arundel Mills. The plan was to hit a spot where we could sit and relax while watching the fight. Hmmm....the manager there was smarter than that. They marketed the fight so well that the place was made up more of people standing than sitting. Evidently they moved all of the games to a storage room to make more room for people. The cost was $10 at the door. From what I was told by a bar owner, the cost for a commercial establishment to purchase a boxing match is $1200. Jillian's easily made that in the first hour.

I was a little bitter that there was no place to sit, but my cousin assured me that it wasn't going to be that bad. And he was right. What really became the nusance was the presence of so many women. That's right, women. Women to see a boxing match. And you ask "damn, Brother Kojak, why can't women go to watch a boxing match and enjoy it?" Sure they can. I know a lot of women who genuinely enjoy a good boxing match. And for the early part of the fight, their presence was known. However, in the latter rounds, here come the posers. The women who had absolutely no interest in seeing the match but more about seeing the men seeing the match. They came in around Round 9 and later wearing heels, low-cut shirts, tight jeans, tight skirts, belly shirts, any type of casual to club gear; they were rocking it. I had to admit, as testosterone driven as the night was, I was definitely distracted. I was pissed off. You can't go NO WHERE without women wanting to be around. It was the same thing they used to do for high school baseball, sitting in the bleachers watching the game as if they were interested. Man....not even close! Scoping. Heteros love having women around most of the time. Fight night, I don't think so. Do you see us going to wedding or baby showers? hanging out around the shoe store? Hell naw. And for those guys that run behind their wives or gf's to go to a damn baby shower or something feminine like that, make sure the 2 of you wear the same skirt size.

Its Sunday. It's 92 degrees outside at 100% humidity. No one in their right MIND would be outside on a Sunday unless they really had to be. Raise your hand if you are that dumb....
***3 hands reluctantly go up**
Yeah, man...me, Glueman and DoomAndGloom went running Sunday. We were supposed to hit the weights, but we couldn't get past the security guard at Glueman's job. So, me looking at my appalling physique and Glueman always being up for a challenge, we hit the track. Luckily, I had plenty of Gatorade so we all shared. DoomAndGloom walked 2 miles while me amd Glueman did sprints on the straightways. I'm trying to run the 1/4 mile in a min. or less. (Damn I got a long way to go!). He and I did that for about a mile a 3/4 worth. I fucked up though. The Gatorade was to quench my thirst DURING my weight/endurance workout. I ended up trying to sip it occassionally during my run. And of course, the last lap ended in a cramp. Ugh. To be so outta shape is trife. And to make matters worse, I ended the night with a pounding headache.

Notable event of the day: On the way to the gym, we were stopped at a red light when we noticed an older woman sitting on a bench. I was the first to notice "Hey. She got a thing of Gold Bond Foot Killa!"
All looked towards the bench.
Looked back at the car, hesitated, but then began to take of her shoes.
"No she isn't"said DoomAndGloom
"Yes she is!" giggled Glueman.
Now, I didn't look because I knew if I did I wouldn't have been able to stop laughing. But by Glueman's reaction, she definitely put that shit on her crusty ass feet in broad daylight. wow.

And tonight??? The ironies of all ironies. When I was put out, there was this girl I was chatting with....INSTANT crush. She was smooth, ambitious, smart, exotic. I tried to put the isms on her, but I couldn't get her to bite. 6 or so months later, she's chatting with me now telling me about the new bliss in her life with her man and new job. That's great because when I was chatting with her it was kinda rough for her. In what capacity I don't know because she never gotta truly specific. That was a weird feeling initially, but I'm happy for her. What kinda bothers me is that I've seen pics of her bf....ma fucka looks like a sickly Jermaine Dupree. Damn love is blind! LOL!


I be out.

Just Like Old Times

Man, I have to make this quick, I have an appointment at 10.

One thing I forgot to tell you all about was the weird mishap at the Home Depot on Saturday. I have a machete I purchased from the flea market years ago and it's about that time to get it sharpened. Someone told me that Home Depot does that kind of thing. Hmmmm....ok. So I take my machete over to Home Depot all happy-go-lucky
La-la-LA
La-la-LA
(machete in sheath dangling around my belt)
La-la-LA
La-la-La
(white man looks at me, goes around 4 cars to keep some distance)
La-la-LA
La-la-LA
(latino woman whispers something to her chubby son and picks up the pace to her car)
La-la-LA
La....la.....hold up.

Shit. I forgot I was black.

So I SLOWLY take the machete sheath off of my belt and ask the men at working in the tool rental area "Excuse me, do y'all sharpen blades."
"Uh....RICK! We sharpen these, man?" he shouted down the aisle.
"Uh....damn! Naw man," changing the bass and tone in his voice. "We don't mess with those. You gonna have to take that someplace else."
"Hmm. Alright y'all. Thanks." and walked out.

So what's just like old times? Hanging out with WhatAboutMe. Uh oh.....time to go....I'll tell y'all what happened soon as I get back. Don't hold your breath, it ain't that juicy.


9:53 a.m.

Ok, I'm back. I was looking my 1st describing WhatAboutMe, but I can't find it. Basically its an inside joke that you can tell her some serious problem that's going on, and somehow the subject gets back to her. Like "My dog has fleas and now they are infesting the entire house."
She would say something like "Oh. Did I tell you I got a promotion 2 months ago?"

Hehhehe... cracks me up. So she and I are IM'ing each other back and forth last night and decided to meet at one of the last havens for the REAL U St. Anyone familiar with DC knows that this area used to be a stronghold for cool black folks. Then it became a spot for cool people. Then some developers got the idea to convert some of the old buildings into condos, Starbucks, Thai restaurants, a RACK of Ethiopian restaurants, and how can you leave out the tanning salon? That's right...a tanning salon in the heart of U ST!!! The area where go-go took a back street to hip hop. **sigh**

So she and I sat there and ate and drank. No, not at the soft-ass Thai spot, but we walked from one U St relic to another. A place where we call the Spot. Funny too, because we used to go there all the time and for like a year or so we didn't even know the name of the place. But it was fun; I got that old feeling of being somewhere I indubitably fit in. Not too yuppy, no too thuggish, not too soft. The tiny place is amazing. You go there and at one table (and this is how it is typically) you have your D.C. yuppies who are for some reason or another not even close to being shaken about hanging in the hood, another table you have some Ethiopian businessmen (well, frontin' like they're business men most of the time), me and WhatAboutMe, a kat that's from the neighborhood and ain't moving out for a damn reason, and the Howard U alumni that are usually grouped in 3's or 4's...


12:05 p.m.
Ok, now I can finish up this entry.
So, thats the Spot. And she and I talked about our respective lives and relationships. The usual. The only difference was that the environment that we had grown so found of was morphing before our very eyes. new signs going up, old signs going down. Boxes for shops that sold value-priced shoes packed for re-location. Next door, a man cleans the renovation dust off of the windows of a brand new French cafe housed with a high steel engraved bar with matching chairs and facade. There is a view to the grill as is typical of modern day cafes.
Evolution. And for a split second, I knew how the Native Americans felt.

Nite Out At Appleby's

One thing we all remember about the Smurfs was how much they loved hanging out together. The same holds true for the Ghetto Smurfs. They get together and drink 40's, smoke dat herb, play dominoes, and every now and then they hit a restaurant. Tonight, they are hitting Appleby's. But first, let's introduce CockDieselSmurf; a smurf who is cut too the gut due to a short stint in the fed.
Also let's introduce BumpySmurf. This mutha fucka STAYS bitter. He has something to bitch about all the time.
Now; let go eat good in the mutha fuckin' neighborhood....

Ghetto Smurfs enter.

BoricuaSmurf: Oh!! Dis place is faan-cy an' shit! Check it out!

PapaSmurf: Whateva, bitch. You don't know shit. Calm your mango-eating ass down.

BoricuaSmurf: **rolling eyes**

CookySmurf: Yeah, this place ain't shit. I bet they ain't got no pig feet up in here.

Hostess: HI! Welcome to Appleby's! How many in your party?

Papa Smurf: Bitch, can't you count?

CockDieselSmurf: Raise up PapaSmurf! She just doin' her job...With fine ass self.... (grabbing his jank) ha-ha-HAA!

Hostess: **blushing** uh..I..uh...thanks?

CockDieselSmurf: **sticking tongue out** Sho you right! hehehehe....its 6 of us, sho-tay.

Hostess: Follow me please.

PapaSmurf: **behind her**Hmph...she DO gotta phat ass. If she wasn't so goofy, I'd put her ass to work.

TrickSmurf: Papa!! Come on! Behave!

BumpySmurf: Man, FUCK behavin'!

**All are seated and the waitress approaches**

Waitress: Hi my name is Shelly and I'll be your server this evening. Can I get any of you something to drink?

BoricuaSmurf: PapiSmurf, I want a sangria. Plee-ase???

PapaSmurf: aight. Get her one of those and I want a Bud. What the rest of y'all want?

TrickSmurf: I want a Strawbury Daquiri

CookySmurf: Gimmie a Bud.

CockDieselSmurf: Me too.

Waitress: **to BumpySmurf** What about you, sir?

BumpySmurf: FUCK YOU!!

Waitress: Excuse me???

BumpySmurf: You heard me, FUCK YOU!!

TrickSmurf: Shut up, boy. Don't pay him no mind, girl. He A.D.D. or some shit. Or just plain stupid.

BumpySmurf: FUCK YOU TOO!!

PapaSmurf: Just bring him a beer too. Thanks.

Waitress stomps off. Returns later with a basket of bread and drinks.

CookySmurf: **chewing greedily** Damn! These rolls is alright! Hey BoricuaSmurf, gimmie your bag so I can take a few of these home.

BoricuaSmurf: Sorry, papi. I beat ju to de punch. I'm takin' deez shits wif me!

CookySmurf: **rolling eyes**

PapaSmurf: Cooky, can't you just make some yourself, man?

CookySmurf: Yeah, but shit! I can take these and sell dem at mushroom. At no cost man! No overhead, n'yamean?

**in unison** OOOH! AHHHH!

CookySmurf: See? SEE? **pointing at head** I be knowing shit, man! I drops that knowledge, son!

CockDieselSmurf: I feel you, dawg! **bumping fists** Here come the waitress. I'm ready to get my grub on.

Waitress enters getting in squatting position.

Waitress: You guys ready to order?

PapaSmurf: Yeah, we ready. What you ladies want?

BoricuaSmurf: Ok, do ju have bacalao?

Waitress: huh?

BoricuaSmurf: Bacalao. Ju know, de fish wif de tomatoes, wif de sazon....

Waitress: Uh, no ma'am.

BoricuaSmurf: **sucking teeth** Ok, what abou' arroz con pollo?

Waitress: I don't know what that is.

BoricuaSmurf: **SIGH!!** Daamn! J'all don't got shit!

TrickSmurf: Bitch, this aint no Spanish restaurant! Look at the damn menu.

BoricuaSmurf: Fine. Ju got chick-kon fingas, right?

Waitress: **sighing in relief** Yes. We have that.

BoricuaSmurf: Ok. I take dat.

Waitress: You ma'am?

TrickSmurf: Just gimme dat dish wit the skremps.

Waitress: Huh? Skremps?

TrickSmurf: Yeah. You know, skremps.

BumpySmurf: I HATE skremps!!

CookySmurf: Bitch the word is "shrimp". Damn!

TrickSmurf: whateva. **rolling eyes and sucking teeth** That's....what...I want.

Waitress: **too PapaSmurf** And you sir?

PapaSmurf: Gimmie dat grilled fish, with some rice and veg-a-tables.

Waitress: Great! And....

PapaSmurf: Wait. You ain't ask me what I wanted for desert?

Waitress: Well, sir, you haven't eaten your meal yet?

PapaSmurf: That's alright. I know what I want.

Waitress: Oh, ok. **fumbling with notepad.** What would you like?

PapaSmurf: You and that FINE ass or yours. Mmmm mmm MMM!

Waitress: **blushing** Uh, thanks.

PapaSmurf: **grabbing her arm, gently** Uh huh. Don't thank me until PapaSmurf show you what's REALLY good. And Imma tell you this here....

**BoricuaSmurf and TrickSmurf look at each other and roll eyes**

PapaSmurf: What's gonna happen is, you gonna give Papa that good number, and he gonna call you and then take you out and show you how a REAL smrf can Smurf. Ya feel me?

Waitress: yeah....I...I think I do.

PapaSmurf: Now go'on and do your thing. Papa gonna come get cha when he ready. **wink**

Waitress: **smiling** OK

CockDieselSmurf: Ehhh...Hmmm.

Waitress: Yes?

CockDieselSmurf: Lemmie get that Atkin's Favorite with the chicken.

Waitress: Got it.

CockDieselSmurf: Yeah, I'm trying to keep the guns, tight. **flexing bicep**

Waitress: **looking at CockDieselSmurf then PapaSmurf** That's nice. I'll be back with your orders. **walking off**

BumpySmurf: HEY!!! What about me and shit??

Waitress: Oh? How about "FUCK YOU!! I HATE taking your order!" **walks off**

BumpySmurf: **mouth wide open. All Smurfs bust out laughing**

TrickSmurf: Wait. Y'all here that?

**all listen**

CockDieselSmurf: Oh no.....oh shit....

**sound of a long car horn to the tune of "La Cucaracha**

**All together** IT'S ESE-SMURF!!!!

CookySmurf: **looking out the window** DAMN! AND he got TP with him!

PapaSmurf: Shit. I'm out. Imma go get my swerve on before they embarass my ass. **leaves the table.**

Enter Ese-Smurf. Along with him is TrailerParkSmurf.

Ese-Smurf: What's up, Homes? What you guys doing?

CookySmurf: We 'bout to eat. What da fuck you want?

TrailerParkSmurf: Now, now, Cooky. We was JUUUST in the neighbor, and we saw the smurf-mobile. And we figured we could drop by and say hi.

Ese-Smurf: Yeah. We just came from doing some bzness. We got some good deals on some hubcaps, Homes. You interested?

BumpySmurf: Fuck hubcaps!

Ese-Smurf: Damn, vato! You gots to chill, homes!

BumpySmurf: Fuck dat!

**Waitress enters** Here you guys go. Oh, more guests?

TrailerParkSmurf: Yeah! We were just about to set a spell! **takes a set**

**all sigh**

TrailerParkSmurf: Oh, I'd LOVE a beer, darlin'. Can you get that for me?

Waitress: Sure. And you sir?

Ese-Smurf: Yeah, chica. Gimmie a Corona and shit, man.

Waitress: ok **walks off**

TrickSmurf: You know, TP, its rude to have a hat on at a table with ladies. Why don't you take that shit off and pretend to be a gentleman.

TrailerParkSmurf: You right, you RIGHT! I'll just put it right here on the table.....

**before he can place it on the table, its obvious that the hat should remain on TP's head due to the once-white now dark brown brim. Also noted are the grease and oil stains all over the hat and its now weird smell**

TrickSmurf: UH UH! Put it back on. **clutching her stomach** Put..it..back...ON!!

TrailerParkSmurf: Uh...al-right.

**Ese-Smurf approaches BoricuaSmurf** OH! Pollo de dedos. **putting thumb on one of them** Did you want that, chica?

BoricuaSmurf: Oh hell no! Ju DID NOT just put ju hands in my fuckin' food! Oh fuck DAT, man! **begins taking off her earrings** Ju don' be doin' dat shit to ME! Imma fuck ju up as sooon as I take dees e'rrinks off! Fuck sat shet!

CockDeiselSmurf: **standing between the 2 of them** Easy, easy,mami! See what you did, jackass? She bout ta light yo ass up!

Ese-Smurf: **talking with mouth full and laughing** Sorry, Homes. I was hung-gree.

CockDeiselSmurf: You know what? Why don't y'all 2 just raise the fuck up outta here before I light BOTH y'all asses up my damn self.

TrailerParkSmurf: Al-right, al-right. We'll leave. C'mon, Es-saySmurf. We need to push these here hubcaps anyways. **both getting up**

CookySmurf: Uh....wait one minute, mutha fuckas. Where your money for that beer?

TrailerParkSmurf: Oh! I fig-gered one of you kind smurfs can smurf me a beer.

CookySmurf: SHIIIIIIIIIIITTTT! I ain't smurfing you shit! You better pay for that mutha fucken shit!

TrailerParkSmurf: Well, there's a problem, buddy. Since we ain't unloaded them hubcaps, I sadly do not have any currency at this moment in time. But I'd glad trade you the hula-hoop that's around ma pro-pane tank on the trailer. **putting his hand on Cooky's shoulder.**

BumpySmurf: I HATE hula-hoops!

CookySmurf: Get the fuck up off me, man! **standing up** I'm 'bout to wear your ass OUT!

TrickSmurf: Wait a minute y'all. Wait a minute. Y'all 2 just go, please. CD, you KNOW you on parole and Cooky you don't need no more drama. Fuck it.

**exuent TrailerParkSmurf and Ese-Smurf**

CockDeiselSmurf: Yeah, betta had left. Wait til I catch they ass back at the Village.

CookySmurf: Mmm mmm.

BumpySmurf: YEAH!

**enter PapaSmurf, folding a sheet a paper**

PapaSmurf: I'm back, they gone? If they were here while I was here I know there would be some shit.

CookySmurf: Yeah. You missed them and there was some shit anyway. Shit....what did WE miss?

PapaSmurf: HehehehheHHE! You know how I do.

CookSmurf: Got that number, huh?

PapaSmurf: No doubt. I'll have her tricked out in 'bout a week. Let's eat, mutha fuckas.

Weekend Synopsis- July

Friday: I was on full Daddy Duty. Me and MiniMe sat and watched the O's get their asses kicked by the Red Sox while we ate a mix of Honey Cheerios, cashews, and plain M&M's. These are the nights you adore fatherhood.

Sat.: The big day. Went to the Sugarwater Tour featuring Jill Scott, Floetry, Erykah Badu, and Queen Latifah. Off...the hook. My 2 complaints were 1) the show was in Columbia, MD; a Baltimore suburb. Why did they keep shoutin' out DC? Bitter about that. 2) Short show given the magnitude of talent. Floetry was on stage a whopping 30 minutes. Damn! That bothered me a bit because Marsha can SANG. Yea, I spelled that right because there is a difference between someone who can "sing" and someone who can "sang". Kelly Clarkson...no, let me not go there. Let me pick someone black....Ashanti can sing. But the big girl in the choir at church who whenever she approaches the mic, the old ladies in the front giggle with delight and lean over to whisper to each other. SHE...can probably SANG.
But as usual, I digress. Everyone else in the festival averaged about 45. I think Queen Latifah went a few minutes over her limit but it was all to the good because she rocked the spot with some jazz AND hip hop. Jill...was Jill. I really can't describe it because she gives an amazing performance. I've seen her twice and both times I was in total awe. For me she is a hard show to watch because the "Who Is Jill Scott?" album just brings back so many memories for me. (Yes, NONE that I will share with you all. Sorry.) Erykah was tight too. She commands the entire venue with just the expressions of her eyes and arms. Amazing.
Other observations? Fellas, there were a LOT of single women there. Don't sleep on these kinds of venues. Although a good portion of the single women were lesbians, hey, you can still look, right? I think the lesbian draw was Floetry, who are a working gay couple. I didnt know that until last night.
I hung out all day with Wisdom and had a ball. We talked a lot and I found out more about her which was great. We ended the night at the Baltimore-famous Double T Diner over pancakes. Hehhehe. So funny its actually cool.

Sunday: Slept thru most of the day. When I awakened, I was asked to cook on the grill. MiniMe made a new friend today. An assoc. of my mom brought him over and they had an instant clicking. Both are the same age and same energy level.
It looks like me and the fellas WON'T be going to Chicago for the boxing match. If I made about 30K more a year, definitely. The price of a decent seat at this event would be $150. That's right. About 30 rows back for $150. Sad to be po', man.

Ghetto Smurfs update: Damn, sun! This is taking so much longer than I anticipated. Almost done, but not quite. Again, I will warn those of you who are somewhat loyal readers that this is going to be one of the most offensive blog entries....to e'rybody. E'rybody gets it in this one. No race is left out.