Abandoned Blogs

I am very happy that I am starting to get some traffic to this site. I'm swelled with pride that people are starting to come to this site just to read me "talking shit". However, I am mad salty at the following bloggers: Blondie, LL, and CaramelCutie. You ladies are making ME look bad because I have you linked on my damn page! Since none of you even come to this site, I can really talk shit about you. Blondie, I TOLD YO ass you wouldn't be a good blogger. Your focus is on so many other things. I was surprised that you didn't get take some of those erotic stories and put it in your blog entry. Real easy.
CaramelCutie....you started off SOOOO strong too! Good stuff. Now you don't blog, read blogs or even write in your journal because its "too much work". If you weren't so busy being a damn pimptress, you MIGHT get something done damnit!
Finally, LL. Girl you is trife. Here go the email she sent me (paraphrased) "That is so cool that you do that! I think I'm going to start one too!" One month and one entry later, not a damn thing new. As a matter of fact, where the hell are you anyway?

So I'm deleting your links. Nothing personal, but why cue people to pages or that are sitting in the Internet graveyard. You 3 are wonderful women, but you're shitty bloggers. Blondie, stick to the stories. CaramelCutie, go to your state office and register your business. Not sure if pimpin' menz is legal in South Carolina, but don't let the tax man take your money. LL, don't even bother. Just send me a message via carrier pigeon or something.

Alright, I'm done.

Peace

Introducing Weepa!

Weepa! is a friend I met 4 years ago on a community website. Stereotypes are a bad thing, but she is without question a stereotypical Nuyorican. She's never been to Puerto Rico, but she has the accent and mannerisms of a boricua who just stepped foot into the JFK concourse from JetBlue's 1273 Flight from San Juan. At the same time, she has the toughness and swagger of a Brooklyn woman born and bred. She is also a strong, loving, and encouraging woman particularly to the ones she holds dear to her heart. Since she is not particularly fond of my birth name, I am affectionately known to her as Ric (Reek). I hadn't talked to her in a while so I called her yesterday. Here is the convo. Feel free to use your Puerto Rican accent freely.

Ric: What's up Boo?? How you been? I haven't talked to you in a minute.

Weepa!: What's up Ric. I been with the ONLY headache all week.

Ric: Oh Boo, I'm sorry to hear that.

Weepa!: Yeah, I'm going to the doctors on Friday. I just haven't felt like being bothered, Ric. Between this fucken headache and this nigga behind me, I just don't feel like being bothered.

Ric: Oh? Who is this?

Weepa!: This nigga I met on (community site). Ric, when I first met him he was cool. Then I gave him my number and he been like bubblegum ever since, shit. He a friend of Lily's and when he around me and her, he don't say shit. But when we chatting or on the phone, he like a little puppy.

Ric: Hehehehe...oh yeah? Where he live?

Weepa!: He lives on the same block, Ric!

Ric: (laughing) What? That's crazy.

Weepa!: Yeah, and this nigga is a trip!

Ric: Sounds like it.

Weepa!: This nigga is a trip. You know me and ShyShy (alias for her daughter) went up to his apartment one day.

Ric: Oh yeah?

Weepa!: Yeah. Ric...we go into his apartment...all Batman.

Ric: (giggling) What?

Weepa!: Yeah man. Front wall, Batman. Back wall, Batman. Side wall, Batman. He got Batman-mobile, Batman plane, Batman whateva. I looked around and said to myself "Que te pasa papito? You a child stuck in a man!"

Ric: (laughing for real now) You lying like shit. For real?

Weepa!: For real, Ric I'm serious! (laugh) The mutha fucka got everything Batman, X-Man, Spawn. He showed me his bedroom. Spawn. Spawn EVERY fucken where! I said oh shit are you for real?? This place is off the hook!

Ric: (crying laughing) Awww! Now I know you lying Boo.

Weepa!: No Ric, I'm serious! Spawn all over the place in his bedroom. I told him "what do you tell your girlfriend? You got a Catgirl suit for her?"

(we both laugh)
Weepa!: This nigga is off the hook. I can't fuck with no shit like that. What do I look like going with some man with X-Manz, Batmanz, and Spawnz all over the place? Shit! Fuuuuuck dat! No thank you! ShyShy was like"Ma. Can we get outta here? This place is close on me."

Ric: (still crying laughing) Oh man! Poor baby. This kat is stuck on 6th grade!

Weepa!: Oh hold on Ric. That was AFTER we came from Toy R Us.

Ric: Oh yeah? Why y'all go there?

Weepa!: I asked him to take me and ShyShy to Toys R Us to get some DVD Now's for her. When we got there, I was looking at the rack for stuff for ShyShy. When I looked over, the whole rack, Ric....the whole rack of Batman shit was gone.

Ric: Huh? What happened?

Weepa!: The mutha fucka put all that shit into the cart! All Batman shit!

Ric: (laughing) Oh shit!

Weepa!: Yeah Ric. That shit came to $99. $99 of Batman shit. I was like what the fuck?

Ric: Oh wow. He sound like he got some issues.

Weepa!: Oh Yeah! (laughing) But that's not all Ric. I told you he been like bubblegum. He been sending me poems and songs and shit.

Ric: Get the fuck outta here, girl.

Weepa!: Yeah Ric.

Next blog entry: Juan writes the songs that makes the whole world sing.......

It Must Be True......

.....I must be gay. The simple fact that people don't see me walking around holding my dizzack and calling women bitches and talking like I open a book every now and then make me queer. Hmmmm....also that I have long hair that when it is touched up is shiny because of the grade of of my hair. Yeah, I guess that's it. I guess I'll go down to the Blue Oyster for happy hour now that I've been told what the deal is.

yeah right. People in this county can be so retarded.

That's my rant for the week and since I haven't blogged or had anything really good to blog about I'll give you my week thus far in review.


Mon: Before I get to my personal stuff, this was in the news Monday. Seems like the assistant super-intendant of the PG County school system wanted to supplement her income. Now, here we are in the trenches dealing with low pay, antiquated equipment and low appreciation and she comes in and sets such a shining example as a black woman in an executive position in the richest county of Black people in America. Even more trifling? This 103K/year, 2 home-having bitch was released from jail later that day by her court-appointed lawyer. WTF type shit is that?!?! All that loot, all that traficking, and you can't get a lawyer? You humiliate the entire School Board and its employees and WE have to pay for YOUR lawyer??? Wait 'til I find out where this bitch lives.
Now back to me. I was mad depressed that day. Serious financial issues and no immediate solution for that problem. No one could make me feel better except for the least likely person; my Offspring. He came to me and said "Daddy, you having a bad day?" I replied yes and noticed how he took the remainder of the evening to gently distance himself from me until he could wait no longer to say "Uh...I'm hungry."
"O.k. What do you want to eat?"
"Ummm..I can make some cereal."
"No, you need to eat some food. Let's go see what you got."
We went downstairs and found the only unfrozen items in the kitchen, pancakes. With my assisted supervision, I taught him how to mix the batter, pour it in the hot pan, and flip the pancakes. So, he cooked himself some pancakes. As basic as it sounds, it was one of our more endearing moments. It's one of those times where you are thankful for bringing that child into the world. Not only because the child can experience life and the world, but the fact that maybe, just maybe....he/she will love you back.

Tues: I took the Gregorc Personality Test for work and concluded that I was a Concrete Random Personality. One who is imaginative, creative, laid back and disorganized. Of the 4 groups, each group had to come up with a slogan and theme song. Our group decided to sing our song. Guess who was nominated to sing it? RIIIIIGHT. It turned out to be a rendition of Frank Sinatra's "I Did It My Way". Ours was "So Do It My Way". Man, I'm in the wrong profession!

Wed.: 1st day of class. Of course, I get there late and when its time for break, I get back from the break late too! I'm fucking up, man.....fucking up.....

Thurs: Dangerously quiet today. I'm being reassigned to another school so I may go over there for a visit. I definitely have to swing over there tomorrow. Update: They were looking for me to be over there today TOO. Ohhhh! how about you TELL a brotha these things and I will gladly accomodate. dayum!

Sat: Wine tasting event. I want to go, but of course, no date. Well, I could get a date but there are catches for each date. I could call AreYouGay, but why bother? I'm gay right? I could call Wisdom, but if I were lucky enough, she is all about missionary and missionary only. What fun is there in that? I could call AfroPuffs, but she is a NOTORIOUS underdresser. I'd be so afraid to go in there and she had on her bell-bottoms and shoes that are supposed to be tied but never are. Naw man....I don't think so. Not to a wine tasting junks. We can get a ma fucken beer, but uh...yeah. And I damn sure ain't going solo, so.....I guess I ain't going.
By Saturday I should have some updates. If not, leave me the hell alone. Grrrrr.

Apology to the Fans

I know I don't have any true "fans", but I do realize there are about 3 of you out there who read this blog religiously. To you 3, I apologize for my lack of blogging. My employer has been earning their minimum wage from me and school is about to start as well. So from here until early May, my blog entries will probably only be once a week as opposed to 2 to 3 times a week. The good thing is that I now consider myself a seasoned blogger so when there is time to blog I know how to do so more efficiently.

So bare with me people. I have archives you can always check out and you should check out these bloggers in particular: KC, WebmasterMama, the prolific Zulu,and the chic with the long ass blog name that I can't pronounce. She naaaaasty. LOL

I'll have a story for you kats in a little while. Peace.

Brother Kojak

Little Known Fact

Good morning, ladies. I am addressing the ladies only fellas because you may not want to read this entry beyond this point. Why? Because this is about dizzack. If you have no knowledge about your dizzack, I HIGHLY suggest you revisit your childhood pediatrician with daddy in the room. Please make sure you ask either one of them "What dat?" and "What dis for, daddy?"

But anyway ladies, let me give you a little background. I am very dark-skinned. My cousin's name is Brother Darkness, but I'm actually darker than he is as proven photographically by my friend PrettyPussy(Cat). One thing that is a must for us dark brothas (especially in the winter-time) is above average hygiene in the dizzack area. Now, I KEEP my joints clean. What I'm referring to is the accursed ash. Yes, ash. Not ash tree, not ash tray, but the dry skin accumulation that make your ankles looks like you've been kicking flour when you don't hit that lotion. One thing that I have to do after every shower is get dressed and THEN lube up. I get dressed first because you can't lube up right after a shower, the effect is not as good. You have to have your pants and draws on, unfasten the pants and stick your hand down your pants with a handful of lotion. It doesn't matter what scent, color or even quality just as long as its lotion.

Now you may ask yourself "Brother Kojak, WHY is that so important?". I'll tell you with concocted fantasy:

You are at your desk working having the most boring work day of your life. Your cubicle neighbor is telling you all about how her first born son Charlie is doing all kinds of miraculous things like farting and shitting mustard colored turds. And of course, the email pics from her keep coming; "Charlie and Grandpa-pa" "Charlie and the neighbor" "Charlie and the ferret". Your boyfriend is acting like a bitch because his mother didn't send him any apple crumb pie for his birthday. "I wonder what Brother Kojak is up to?" you ask yourself.
So you call me....
Me: Hello?
You: Hey! How you doing?
Me: Hey girl. I'm str8. How have you been?
You: Bored as hell. Its just been one of those weeks.
Me: I feel you. So what do I owe the pleasure of your call?
You: Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see what you were doing this week.
Me: Hmmm....its winter-time. Its too cold to be out there.
You: Oh, that's too bad.
Me: Is it?
You: Yeah because we haven't hung out in a while.
Me: Well, I tell you what...you come thru and we'll play it by ear from there.
You: Well....ok.
Me: Don't worry. It won't be a wasted trip.
You: **smile** Yeah, whatever!

So you parlay over to Brother Kojak's crib. He's good company. Talkative. Funny. Easy on the eyes. Not that you want to get AT HIM; you have a boyfriend, but him being decent-looking makes it easier to tolerate a long convo. You arrive to him opening the door and your nostrils get filled with the fresh aroma of some kind of herbal tea. "Girl, get in here! Its cold out there. I ain't going nowhere shit! And we can have warm drinks right here." You laughed step in and hand him your coat. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice him scan you up and down. "Some things never change" you say to yourself. The 2 of you sit on the couch and begin a conversation that spans the range of politics au lait to family members who need mental therapy. Regardless of the conversation, he keeps scanning your body and its actually starting to turn your on. He talks softer as if to lure you closer so that you can hear him. Before you know it, the 2 of you are engrossed in long, naughty kisses and roaming hands. He leans back with a subtle gesture to unfasten his pants. You oblige. First the belt buckle. Then the pants button. Then the zipper. And then, with a coy smile you reach into his pants and pull out the firm, phallic appendage. The smile disappears and your jaw slightly drops.

"Uh oh..."
"Oh my..."
"What the....?"
You look down, and the dizzack is dotted with large spots of chalky ash. You pretend to caress it, but what you are really doing is examining it. "Dayum! What the f(*&?!?!" On the tip, the skin is layered and cracked. And as you stroke it, you here a soft "szszszs" sound.
The spontaneity, the magic.....is officially over.

You: I can't do this.
Me: Huh? What's wrong?
You: I feel...so guilty. I have a man, I shouldn't be here, not like this.
Me: But how you get to changing your mind NOW??
You: I'm sorry Brother Kojak. I just can't...I better be going..."
Me: **shaking head** Damn.


So, a brotha has GOT to do his maintenance. Brush dem teef, wash the vitals, and stay lubed. I would assume that a sick-looking dizzack is very unattractive. Whether it is or not, I GOT my Big Tee Shirt. I'm prepared! (long story) I refuse to get caught like that. There is a thing of lotion in my room and even a Dollar General brand in the car. Fellas, if you still with me, heed my advice. God forbid she put you out there in the streets about the ashiness. Don't let it happen to you. Imitating Ashy Larry ain't cool and it ain't wise. Now go handle that....

Hommage

In an eariler blog entry, I discussed the argument between Brother Darkness and I about paying hommage to our childhood by watching Fat Albert. As some of you may or may not know, a movie was recently produced based on the 70's cartoon Fat Albert. Tonight we went to see that movie. I was accompanied by my mother and son; 3 generations familiar with the old school cartoon.
The movie began with a modern version of the cartoon and based on some issue of the main character, Fat Albert and the Gang enter into the real world. This impossibly made the movie ridiculous beyond any means. And to add insult to injury, the casting was poor at best. Men in their late 20's and early 30's were cast as the Cosby Kids; Mushmouth had mtits (man tits) and Fat Albert had razor bumps. Storyline-wise, there was a love interest for Fat Albert, a sexy young boricua. Hmmmm....how did that happen?
The silver lining of the movie is that it paid hommage to itself. I'll try not to reveal too much of the ending, but as weak as the movie was, there was a reference to the creation of the the cartoon that linked to the Cosby Kids entering the real world. I'm glad I went sporting my old FUBU black and charcoal Fat Albert shirt with my son so that he could get an idea of what the cartoon meant to my childhood. Unfortunately, the movie didnt do that, but did provide a bridge from that era to the present day. So, no thanks to Bill Cosby's short-sightedness, the only way for my son to feel that Fat Albert vibe is to get that good box set.


(Hmm....maybe that was Cosby's idea in the first place, huh? Make a bad movie to make more money, sounds like a good idea to me!)

Martin Luther the King!

Happy birthday, MLK! You've done a lot for this country and the world for that matter. Just proof that one person with vision and a strong conviction can make a diference. There is still hope....

Except when you are in the grocery store and they are playing the worst R&B song of all time: "Walking In Rhythm".
Walking in Rhythm
trying to move on
thinking 'bout my baby
trying to get home.


UGH. That is straight garbage. How the hell did that song make it in the Old School rotation? Whenever I envision them singing that song, I see 4 brothas with their hair slicked back, tiny litle mustaches, and black "Members Only" jackets. Just disturbing, man.




Back to MLK Day. One thing that Dr King touted and desired was the equality among all; but particularly between Blacks and Whites. Ever notice how white people reference people by using the first and last names? like "Who was that on the phone?"
"Mike Jeffers. He invited us over for dinner."
Whereas Black folks reference people based on a commonly know fact like "Who was that on the phone?"
" That was Mike."
"Mike who?"
"you know....Mike with the buck ass teeth. He invited us over for dinner."
There is never a last name always Tim the Barber, Theivin' Ass Dante, Tonya's Chris, etc.

Another subtle difference is our senses of direction. Whites have a tendency to be specific about direction. " They're south of here". For Blacks, its always "up there". "Is it cold up there? (even though the person of reference is further south,or maybe even west for that matter.)

Other culture differences:
Whites Blacks
funnel cake fried dough
running shoes tennis shoes
basketball shoes
etc
chopping block cutting board
Martin Luther Martin Luther "the" King
King Jr

Ok, the last one is a push, but I've heard it more than once. Regardless, let's keep the dream alive.
King Jr

Is XM or Sirius the Answer?

Thursday morning I wake up, shower, get dressed and then climb into my car for the trek from the e-wife's house to to her job. (We still are cool....I think.) I turn the dial to my usual radio show and damnit it's format was changed! WHFS is now noventa nueve punto uno el Zol. The longtime alternative rock station with the Sports Junkies in the morning is now an all latino station. Now, in the big picture, this is great for Baltimore/DC region radio because the only other latino station was 92.1 which didnt get much of a signal except for in pockets of the region. The competition is needed. However, now the Junkies are back on their old station, but in a different time slot and on a DC only station. Damn. Now I have to go back to listening to typical "morning zoo" shows with a staff that usually consists of the main person (anchor, I guess), his/her counterpart, and a washed up comedian. Oh joy. Not to say that the Junkies weren't too different, but the sports emphasis gave it a testosterone kick I like. All my DC and B-more peeps out there; any suggestions? Has this happened to you with a radio station as well? This last time this happened to me was when Olivia Fox was fired from WKYS for reasons unknown. **Sigh** And what the hell is a "zol"?

Addendum

Dumbest Thing Done Today: If I don't buy store bought water, I usually boil tap water and drink that. I did that tonite, but WHY did I just not get a fresh pot? I used the same pot I cooked vegetable medley in. And even though I washed it out really well, guess what the water tastes like? Yup.

Untitled

I apologize for being incog-negro, but I've had a rough couple of days. Unlike some other bloggers, I prefer to share my more festive times with my readers than the times when I'm struggling. Not to say that I'm struggling, but I've definitely had to keep the ship steady.

Quote of the week: "Hey, Tierra....I didn't know you went to church! Imma sit over there with you. I want to get hooked up with the Lord!"

New phrase: Phat Sophisticated Rascal. Noun. An upscale, woman of means who has the body of a woman raised on biscuits, whole milk, and collard greens. (Not together, of course, and DON'T forget about the madaroni and cheese.)

Ok...where did I get the PSR term from? Well, I live in the most affluent area of the country for Blacks, Prince Georges County. One measure of affluence is the number of Border's Books and Cafes in an area. In PG County, there are about 5. Anyway, I was sitting in the cafe sipping coffee (something else I will get back to later) and this sista walks in. Hmmm....I need a good analogy for this.....remember in The Flintstones when Cary Grantrock would walk and there was a slick little theme music in unison with his feet? Well, with this this sista there was this little rhythm going on in my head with a high-hat solo mixed with a Rakim sample. Whoa. And she was dressed impeccably with the nails manicured, wrinkless black top and bottom, subtle make-up, and the hairstyle was basic yet stylish. Needless to say I was impressed. And luckily, I had napkins at the table to catch the drool.

Now, back to the cafe. I've been living in that area for about 2 months now and it is soooooo different from B-more. The mannerism are so different; a lot of frontin' (we've covered this word already) name-dropping. In B-more, you can front all you want, but if we go to the same barbershop and dentist, you aint really claimin' shit. I seem to be acclimating well though; because instead of hanging at the barbershop or the strip club, my new favorite spot is the coffee cafe. In Black Baltimore, you hang out at the cafe, you are suspect. According to the sub-culture, the only ones that hangout at the cafe are gays and dorks. But I've come to notice the HUGE upside of hanging at the cafe.....potential clients and PSR's. I almost landed a client a few months ago just because I was there and doing my homework. Like they say, queer is folk, right?

Restaurant Review

I'm going to make this quick because I''m a little tired from God knows what. Sunday my uncle and I went to The Red Fish off of O'Donell St. in B-more. On a star level, I give it a 2 out of 4. Why? The proportions were small, food was expensive, and the taste of the food was a bit to be desired. However, all of these factors make Red Fish a good date restaurant because ladies, you can order what the hell you want without feeling self-conscious. Y'all know how you do "Oh, I'll just have a salad..." and during the end of the date, both you and the man can hear your stomach going "rrrw-rrwww-RRRRWW!" Fellas, the spot is expensive, but intimate. It will it you in the pocket, but at least you don't have to worry about your neighbors next table listening in when you say "well, I still cry when I watch the Black Stallion". Taste-wise, the food was better than average but very decorative. The chef splashed the plates with cut little pasta hearts and caramel glaze and all that shit. I personally hate that because I feel bad about eating it since its so decorative.

So if you dont feel like dealing with the headache of the Cheesecake Factory or other one of those downtown spots, get in the car and drive the 10 blocks and head towards Canton. The Red Fish is the spot with the neon sign across from the High's. (You know what? If you get your date drunk BEFOREHAND , you can take her to High's and get her a 6 hour old hot dog and big ass drink for about $4.)

The REAL reason Brad and Jennifer broke up

The writer of one of my favorite blogs Zula, called me out without even knowing it. I'm the real reason Brad and Jennifer broke up; and imma tell you what happened.

(Written in ebonics, do NOT read literally)

I was chillin' at the lounge a few months ago deep in the heart of B-more. The place was packed with nothing but brothas and a few fine ass sistas....and the sole white chic.
Yeah. She was eye-balling a brotha like she was hongry and I was a ham sam'mich(Theme music, please). I quickly put her on ig because if she wanted some of THIS....she'd have to do it my way.
After a few minutes, here she come. Trying to look all sexy; wagging what was supposed to be her hips. She had her hair in a bun, a sleenky tank top, open toed heels, and some tight capri pants. The whole time she walked towards me, her eyes were in mine.

Lil' Freak: How you doing Kat Daddy? Can I get you a drink?

Brotha Kojak: You either blind or retarded cause I'm already drinkin'

Lil' Freak: What's up with you? Why you gotta be so mean?

Brotha Kojak: I ain't mean. I'm telling you like how it is. Now...what you claimin'?

Lil' Freak: Nothin'. I'm just trying to get with a sexy man like you.

Brotha Kojak: Shiiiiiiiiit! All these brothas in here and you come bring your narra ass over this way. You must got a hidden agenda.

Lil' Freak: My only agenda is that you the finest one in here and I'm trying to get to know you.

Brotha Kojak: Oh is that right?

Lil' Freak: Yeah, thats right.

Brotha Kojak: Aight, so what the deal is?

Lil' Freak: Huh? What you mean Kat Daddy?

Brotha Kojak: Look $%#*%, the name is Brotha Kojak (theme music, please)and you stuck on some ol' bullshit. Now, since you stuck on stupid, imma tell you the low-low. Keep your drink, keep your small talk, but imma tell you. If we ain't in 4 walls and a do' in 10 minutes, you can slide your narra ass right back over to the next kat 'cause I ain't the one. What you doing in here anyway?

Lil' Freak: My man ain't acting right. I caught him having phone sex with this bitch we both know and work with.

Brotha Kojak: dayum! that's hard core. So I guess you thinking "while the cat's away, the mice will play."
Lil' Freak: Something like that.

Brotha Kojak: Well I tell you what PussyCat, lets go to the crib so we can get horizontal and I can curl your little pink toes.

Lil' Freak: Ooooh! I like that! Damn you sexy!

Brotha Kojak: hehehehehe....no shit. Let's roll.

And that's what REALLY happened. We disappeared for a day or so and you know the rest. When Brad found out, he wasn't too happy and I told his ass if he ever comes round the way again, imma give him 12's in his crack. Hmph!

Happy B-day Simone!

Who's Simone? Only the most adorable 4 yr olds on the east coast. Not because she's cute (which she is) but because she is such a little lady, already. Its amazing that she is like that because it seems to be so natural for her. While most kids pick and choose who they want to play with, she manages to love everyone at the same time.

So when I was asked to come to the party, I was more than happy to attend. I was going to perform my famous "Dreddylocks and The 3 Monkeys" (Loooooong story) but time was short. The party was Saturday and I was getting her gift on Saturday morning. Me and the shorty get into the car and drive to DC. Of course, I got lost and ended up being about 30 minutes late. If any of you have ever driven in DC, you would feel my pain. When we get there, we head to the basement for the playroom and the big-ass tv. Already, there were no chairs so I parked my fat ass on the floor. I sat there and made one of my usual odd observations; the men were on one side of the room and the women on the other. Even the wives were co-mingling with the single mothers. Anything to keep from watching the b-ball game. I also noticed that the kids kept coming. At full capacity, there must have been 20 kids from ages 1 to 6. Not a TON of kids, but for a smallish townhouse, mos def.
And our hosts were a bit unorganized. I think what threw them of was using the Most Likely to Attend Formula. You know when you plan a party and you invite 30 people thinking maybe 50 to 60 percent are going to show up. In this case, the full 100% showed up.
The platoon of munchkins were in the playroom for at least an hour before the food was served to them. THEN, it was time for the adults to eat. What a cluster-fuck. There were so many kids there and so many adults lingering that they ran out of the spaghetti that was served. Aunt WhatsHerFace had to cook more. Twice.
As some of you already know, I get a bit cranky when I dont get no food. It took a lot for me to not tell the shorty "Let's bounce. I can get me 2 Big Macs down the street". I think Aunt WhatsHerFace noticed as well because she said "This gentleman has been waiting so he's first."
"Good looking out" I replied with a wink. I slurped down my spaghetti; just enough to tell my stomach to shut the hell up. But as usual, Brother Kojak is always a gentleman and I told one of the mothers down in the basement that I'd bring her a plate when I came down which I did. She said thanks and shared her plate with her son.
Somewhere in the chaos of war I ended up sitting next to another one of the mothers. Now, Brother Kojak has flow with the ladies, but at the same time I am a very corgial and friendly man. I figured we just sitting there, why not chat a bit.
"So....I overheard from over there that you're from NYC."
"Oh, yes. Are you from there?"
"No, I grew up around here. "
"Oh ok."
Silence
"Uh..how long you been down here?"
"Hmmmm....since May"
"I see. Like it?"
"Yes. I seem to like it a lot better than I thought. This area is a lot more kid-friendly than I thought."
"kid-friendly" ? How the fuck THAT get in the convo?
"Uh...yeah. What part of New York are you from?"
"Long Island but I used to live in Brooklyn as well."
"Oh damn. That's not very kid-friendly."
"Not at all!"
phony chuckles, then silence
"Where do.....oh"
And before I got the goddamn "where" out, this bitch walked off! Rude for real. But I guess she thought I was trying to holla and wasn't having it. If she only knew that she didn't fit the damn criteria in the first place. This chic was Amazon-like (tolerable), long dreds (kool), dark-skinned (good), but she had a big flat ass. Now, call me prejudice or even a self-inflicting racist, but if a sista is nice and chocolate, she BETTER have the juicy African booty! I mean, how many African women you know with a flat ass?? You that dark, there is no reason that you don't have the ancestoral ass. That should be a given. "Hmm..." I thought. "This chic needs to be observed further for possible blog material."
I'm glad I turned the blog radar on because this was one of those women who fronts like she is all dignified and has class, but falls short. 1st faux paus: How you gonna take a cell phone call in the bathroom of the playroom knowing there are about 20 little bladders running around? Trife.
2nd faux paus: Ok, the protocol is for the kids to eat first then the adults. How you gonna get a plate of spaghetti so big that not only can YOU eat some of it (ehh HMM!) but also the rest of your Wonder Woman and Dem tribe?? Trife!
3rd faux paus: How you gonna help your daughter pick up candy with you larger than average Joeanne hands and snatch 2 to 3 hand-fulls for your daughter's coat pocket? Trife for life!
And speaking of the candy, all of the kids had to line up to beat poor Dora the Explorer's ass. She was the pinata. Because of the small quarters, she was hung outside. Another clusterfuck. The hostess had to distribute coats from the closet to all of the kids who screaming "that's my coat right there!" Poor Hostess. I had to give her a hug after that dibacle. So now you have 20 kids outside. No one was taking the initiative to organize the chil'renz ( not even the Amazon), so Brother Kojak stepped up to the plate (theme music, please). So it was my job to hold Dora by the top of her head so she can get pummeled, hand the croquet mallet to a child, and most importantly, my protect my balls. So everyone gets 5 licks. I tried to avoid giving the mallet to my shorty too early because he is so damn hyper. When it was his turn, I soon realized that not only is he hyper, but he's an angry little fucker too. ONE SWING of the mallet, and candy was pouring outta Dora's ass. He literally knocked the shit outta Dora the Explorer. Monday, I will be calling a therapist to get the child some help.
After the presents were opened and it was time to roll, strangely enough my coat ended up missing. I think what happened was as Hostess was handing out coats, some kid's coat didn't turn up or couldn't get zipped. Evidently, my coat was offered to suffice. Luckily, I parked a couple houses down so the walk wasn't too bad.

Other Notes: Parents, make sure you train your kids how to be sociable. It is MOST embarrassing to have your children have a damn anxiety attack just because they are around people they don't know.

Parents, don't front like you got full control of your kids when you don't. All that yelling and the child STILL doesn't obey, that is what we call "frontin' ". And we all know there ain't no future in your frontin'.

Fellas, when you reach 40, just give up on having offspring. Because when you have kids after that age, you know damn well you are too old to chase them around.

Juste Lounge

I was feeling all down and what not yesterday, but one of my fellow county workers treated me to lunch. That was cool. I came home and saw a friend of the family I haven't seen in years. That was great. Then I went out to happy hour with my boy Besmirched. First, I didn't know exactly where the place was so I ended up parking about 6 blocks away. Then, I found out that there is a cover charge. It was only $5, but I was cash poor so I had to hit the ATM. Ok, I get there pay fat boy the loot and he gives me 2 tickets. I say "what's this?" he says "these are for your 2 free drinks before 7"

awwwwwwwwwww shit!

HOWEVER, I stood at/near/perpendicular to the bar for 20 MINS; no drink. There was one bartender and he was swamped. I finally got my drink and like a fag I ordered 2 raspberry martinis. I didn't realize until I sat down "hmmm....I'm drinking these red drinks outta martini glasses alone. Damn, I'm gay." So I tossed down the 1st one and let the other kinda sit there as if it were someone else's. My boy Besmirched gets there and we catch up. He apparently broke up with his girl of a year plus. I was blown because they seemed so good for each other and happy. He, as usual showed no signs of being broke up about it.
So we chillin' and I see kats walking in with instruments. Cool. Then I noticed that 2 of the band members are from a local group that I LOVE called Fertile Ground. I was siced then. So they set up and started playing as the back-up band for a new local artist called J Soul. Not bad. I was feeling him, but it may have been the al-da-hol or the fact that my neighbors weren't feeling him.
My neighbors were these 3 sistas who walked in. One was aight (good aight), the second was cute with a serious onion, and the 3rd was a good balance. They scoped the room, then proceeded to the bar. After a while, they decided to sit near me and besmirched. YouRemindMeOf (good balance) sat next to me. Hmmmm....

Had a great time with them. GOodAight said she wanted to be a nurse and when I told her that I would tutor her in math and not help her "get by", she says "don't worry about it. dont call me if you get sick. I'll just say 'hope you don't die. Good luck!' and then **clickup!**" too funny.

Oh, but it gets better. YouRemindMeOf's curiousity got the best of her. (Or it was again, the alk-da-hol) and began asking me questions about my sexuality. Apparently I was a little suspect with the way I pulled my hair outta my eyes, a particular hand gesture, and probably the raspberry martini. She told me she was like "Hmmm...he doesn't seem like true TRUE gay man. He must be on the down-low." I should have been pissed or offended, but thats what I get for trying to look cool. I was so cool she almost canceled my check due to suspicion.

As a footnote, if you are above drinking age DC is one of the best places in the country to hang out. There seems to be a spot for all types. This particular place was somewhat upscale, prodominantly black professional lounge. No true tables or chairs. Couches, living room chairs, and coffee tables. For you out-of-towners who are curious about the type of people who work in downtown Chocolate City, this is the place.

As a matter of fact, here are my recommendations for hanging out in DC

Cafe Nema (approx. 14th and U St) - I dont care what anybody says, this is my spot! Very diverse crowd, sketchy service with a smile, 3 page menu, and a proximity to the next table that forces you to quickly become friends. How can you beat that? Also, their rotation is HEAVY on the acid jazz. What better music to lounge to?

Juste Lounge (7th and Mt Vernon)- that was the spot I went to last night. Nice.

Bar Nun (13th and U St)- poetry slams, casual dress code, and brothas hitting on your girl. Good place for boxing practice if you got a bad temper. But they also rock 2 floors with 2 different genres of music.

The Ascot (I forgot...somewhere off of Penn. Ave)- If you like go-go music, here is the perfect place and drinks are CHEAP. I don't.

More to follow. My ass is sleepy for some reason. Peace