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

2004 Revelations

It is the end of the year and it is time for my annual reflections. Some things just haven’t changed so I will give the reflections that haven’t change and continue to piss me off.

1.) Senior citizens should take the damn bus. Get off the road, stop driving with that left turn signal on slow as hell, and stop banging into my shit with that Marines tanker you driving.
2.) Stupid people need to stay they asses home. Y'all are in the damn way. Stop having offspring for you reproducing is worsening the problem exponentially. Stop trying to use the self-scan lanes at the grocery store; do your shopping online instead. (oh wait, stupid people are too stupid to do that. Just call me when you going to the market.)
3.) There is a difference between rap and hip hop. This is important because I never buy my music any where the hip hop section has Nelly, Lil' John or any of the Hot Boyz click. I don't like rap, but its the prosperous offspring of hip hop. As a True Head, you can't knock that progress. But here is the difference between the two; rap primarly consists of someone vocalizing lyrically (i.e. Lil' John) with a dancable beat to it. Hip hop consists of someone rhyming in rhythmic prose. Hip hop also has some type of message to it, be it negative or positive. If you STIIL aren’t sure, 9 times out of 10 if you can dance to it, it’s rap.


Now, my personal reflections. (the humorous element of this blog is now gone so if you choose to be entertained in that way, come back in a day or 2)

1.) Being married is a blessing, not a curse. When you find that beautiful person who fulfills your life is so many different ways, it takes some serious work. Marriage is best suited for those who prefer a life entrenched in the lives and development of their children. I am still a man who enjoys my life and own self-development. I love my son so much, and I am so proud of him. Sometimes I feel I am doing him a disservice by not being 100% focused on him. But at the same time, I know that he knows that I am easiest to get along with when I am being me. Back to the point, when you feel your blessing has become a curse, its time for some serious change. Love your spouse unconditionally. If you cannot do that, then it wasn’t meant to be.

2.) I CAN be God’s gift to women. Let me explain this one. What I mean is that if I come into a woman’s life for a memorable period of time, I want to have the effect on her that is positive and not in the least detrimental to her or the ones that love her. If I’m doing anything directly or indirectly that is going to have a detrimental effect on her life, I need not be involved. So therefore my gift is the me that gives from the soul without worrying about what I’ll be receiving.

3.) I may be a Sampsonite. No, I don’t mean I’m a lounge chair. What that means is that I may be a victim regarding my hair. In the Bible, it states that Sampson’s strength was because of his hair. How could that be? It goes to an ancient belief in the fact that one carries the good and bad energy of his/her past in his/her hair. This ties in with Sampson, as he was a servant of God (good energy) until he got wrapped up with Delia who coerced him into cutting his hair (loss of good energy). This past year has been a bad year and if any of that has a shred of sense to it, my dredlocks have to go. There are certain events that are coming up that will dictate whether or not I will cut my hair, an element of myself that has characterized me for so long. It will be interesting to see if I will have to do a personality adjustment as well a lifestyle adjustment.

4.) I will be more opportunistic when it comes to making things happen. I have been lazy over the years when it comes to turning opportunities into prosperity. This coming year will be different. All of those opportunities will be converted into prosperities and that goes for all business transactions, all brainstorming instances, and relationships of any kind.

In conclusion, although this was totally different year from most others, I will conclude it and begin the next year in the usual fashion:
I’m slicker this year……..

Aunt Dizzy

People with special needs (mentally impaired, slow, retarded) are just like the rest of us, truly. Its just that they analyze and break things down at a different pace. Some are assholes, while others are loving and compassionate. My best "special needs" story was once me and my boy Cliche went to the Dunkin' Doughnuts and a special needs girl walked up to me and said hi. I said "Good morning. That's a very pretty jacket you have on." "Thank you." she replied and gave me a big hug.

Now, my Aunt Dizzy, she falls somewhere in the middle. She actually uses her impairment to get sympathy and preferential treatment, even during times that its unjustified. She's been notorious for saying "I can't do that...I try before, but I just can't get it." Yeah right. Sometimes, its justifiable, but other times she just be playin' all her life.

And of course, there are the times where she just doesn't know and doesn't understand. There was this one Thanksgiving where some of us were in the basement and she was playing it up with a stomach ache. "My stomach hurts!" as she dragged her ass around. She repeated this until Darkness asked her "What's wrong, Diz?"
Aunt Dizzy: I'm sick. My stomach hurts.
Darkness: Oh wow. Do you know why?
Aunt Dizzy: I don't know. The doctor says I'm rotten on the inside.
Darkness (with incredulous look): Excuse me? What did you say?
Aunt Dizzy: I said the doctor says I'm rotten on the inside.
Darkness (serious look now, everyone else rolling on the floor): Huh? How can that be? If you were rotten on the inside, you would be real REAL sick, Diz!
Aunt Dizzy: That's what I said! I have to get it fixed and get myself together.

I don't remember anymore of the convo after that because I had either passed out from lack of oxygen from laughing, or ran off to the bathroom to clean the pee out of my pants from laughing so hard.

The moral of the story? Love and embrace those who appreciate being loved and embraced.

Observations & Phobias

Phobia
Everyone has a phobia. My cousin, spiders. My mom, reptiles. My e-wife, anything green served on her plate. Me? Well, I have an odd one. Rats.
Mice aren't problem. After I size them up and see that their not rats, I'm fine. I think that phobia started when I was about 12. We were having guest over for my grandfather's funeral. (an aside...why do relatives come over YOUR house, sleep in YOUR accommodations, and feel it is their...no, YOUR priviledge to pay for all the long distance phone calls they make knowing damn well they don't no-damn-body at home?) My grandparent's house is in the hood in B-more with alleys, abandoned houses and all of the things rats love to thrive in. My cousins and dem decide since it was such a lovely day and it was too inconvenient to leave the damn back door closed, then hey, let's leave it wide open. And just our luck, a rat scampered into the house. I saw him first...I sat at the alcove me watching him watching me. I stomp with a seemingly intimidating "HA!" Now.....how can I explain this.....ok, if the the rat had fingers on his paws he would have gave me one and said "Shiiit! What dat mean? Fuuuuuuck you!" And trotted up the stairs.
There's more to that store but maybe I'll get to it another time (upon request only).
So, back to the present I go into the kitchen to get some water. I was in a decent mood, humming and shit. When I approach the kitchen, I hear this scratching and shredding of paper. I'm like "wtf?" Suddenly, I was caught up with the phobia. The first thing that I thought was "damn, is that a rat or a mouse?" scratch scratch "damn, sounds kinda loud...might be a rat" scratch scratch scratch "Hmmm....no squeaking. I guess it must be a mouse then" scratch scratch "Hmph! Either way, I ain't fucking with him tonight!" And I went to bed.
The next morning, I forgot all about the incident. Until.....!
scratch scratch scratch
"Damn! he still in there! I guess I better man-up and get him out." So I go outside and get an old rug, slowly pull the trash can from underneath the sink. Then I take the old rug and cover it to calm the critter down. I then take the covered trash can and dumped it in the big trash can outside. Whew! Another phobia conquered! Temporarily.

Observations
I had 2 observations for you guys but I forgot one of them. But the other one, is hard to forget. I'm sure most of you have seen the posters and billboards for Samuel L Jackson's new movie "Coach Carter". Looks like an interesting movie except for the fact that Samuel L Jackson is play a stern yet compassionate role. Hard to imagine him saying to a ball player "Hey, its ALRIGHT. Just focus and shoot the ball. We believe in you." But WE ALL know Samuel L! Ant gonna be none of that. It'll be more like " SHOOT THE BALL MUTHA FUCKA!! DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THAT IS??!?!? YOU TAKE THE DAMN BALL. AIM IT AT THE BASKET, AND THROW THE BALL IN THE HOOP!! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU, MUTHA FUCKA?!?!? ARE YOU NEW OR SOMETHING???!? JESUS CHRIST!!"
SHOULD BE.....eh hmmm....should be interesting to see.

Ooh! Here's another observation. There is a live action "Fat Albert" movie coming out tomorrow. The previews say it sucks. The commercials say it sucks. But I say, go see it. Why? To pay homage to my childhood. Darkness disagrees. He feels that if a movie sucks, it just sucks and why bother seeing it. E-Wife feels that one should go see it, but only matinee. (such a Libra...always in the middle) This is the dilemma of the black man today. Pay homage to see a seemingly bad movie, or say "no! my financial advancement is more important than a Bill Cosby brain-fart." Please, comment and help the black man make this most crucial choice.

Ok...I got one more because I can talk about movies all day everyday. There is a movie coming out called "White Noise". Its about this man who hears voice from the dead thru some for of electronic media. Now, here is my question: why is it that everybody claims that the dead have so many great and revealing things to say? Consider this.....dumb and annoying peaople die too. Don't you think that they are STILL that way even if they could talk to the living? Don't you think that instead of "Angela, you must beware of the short Mexican man with the Disney World hat. He is of bad will..." yada yada yada you might hear something like "Hey! I can snap my toes like you can snap your fingers!" or "Every globe I've seen has a line around it called the equator. If I go to South America, can I see it on the ground?"

See? I be thinking man....I be thinking!

Another Great Shopping Experience at Wal-Mart

Samuel Walton intro
"I have a dream today....that white men, black men....Jews and gentiles, will all walk down the aisles of my store...shoulder to shoulder like brothers....

I have a dream that snotty nosed Arabic children will ride the bikes and sample all the merchandise through the store without adult supervision...

I have a DREAM, that big fat, black women will poke the shit out of unsuspecting short patrons from a full endcap away with their torpedoed like breasts....

And I have a dream today, blue-haired white ladies will hastily push their carts out the doors of my multi-acred stores and say "Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I'm free at last!"

I don't Sam was thinking that when he drafted the mission statement for Wal-Mart. Unfortunately, that's what its become. I hate the place. Pissy service, loads of unprofessionalism, and no matter what the season, people flock to it like flies on a turd.

I went because my estranged wife wanted a new cell phone and we transfer the number from my account to a new one for her. We get in there, colored folks everywhere. Standing in line with baskets full of stuff. We squeeze our way towards the rear of the store where the cell phone counter is. We wait....and wait.....
"Oh. He aint back there now. But I'll have him paged."
So when he arrives, I think "wtf. What is Lil' John's cousin Broke Tim doing here?" Thats cruel right? Yeah right....this kat was a nice guy, but had dreds that were banged up and these weird silver caps on his teeth that had designs on them. Then his boy comes thru. Now, I KNOW Sam had a dress code: "Don't look like a jackass." I think that was the only line in the dress code policy...yea, that's it. Don't look like a jackass.



EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! Violation on Aisle Mutha Fuckin' 3! THIS....uh....damn. I wanna say the word but I KNOW some people would get offended. ok..let me start over......

THIS mu fucka has a hat on backwards, a big ass jersey that his fat uncle Chester could wear under his Wal-Mart smock jeans hangin' way off his ass (even though he had a belt on), a pair of Tims, and of course, gold teeth.
unemployed for over a year....but kats working here with jeans off the ass and metallic teeth. Like Frank said "That's Life!"

Finally, Broke Tim begins the transaction. All is going well until SteamRoller comes thru with his boy. The name will make sense shortly. SteamRoller wants a phone and Broke Tim aint having it. He knows something is awry. SteamRoller is put on ig. I wondered why until....

Sorry y'all but now it is time for your slang lesson. Dont worry, it ALL ties in. Now. Our vocabulary word of the day is hot.

hot: 1.) a term used to describe a stolen item 2.) term used to describe something new and good, well-recieved 3.) term used to describe something steamy, unappealling and poignant.

......until I realized that Broke Tim was on to something. He detected something in body language from SteamRoller, I didnt. What I detected was his hot ass breath (see definition). The more he talked, the more I realized this kat had had some issues earlier in the day. It was so bad he would say something and my stomach would answer before my mouth would. (shit! I was scared to OPEN my mouth! eeew!)

SteamRoller: Yeah, I heard T-Mobile is the jone't!

MyStomach: waaaaoooowaa

SteamRoller: Is dis da phone y'all gettin'? Dat look aight!

MyStomach: woooowawoooooooooooo!

Man....fuck this. Thats why I need to go over here and look this here gospel . Must be a sign that I need the Lord.

We thought all was well after we left, but apparently our son walked out of Wal-Mart with a Po (Teletubbies) plushy. We went off. He cried and cried and cried. He has to confront the manager and write a letter of apology. That damn Wal-Mart. Even got my son doing trifling shit.

7 Jessicas

Jessica #1: Beautiful in every way. Mind, body, soul and spirit. I tried to put some 'isms on her, but she wasn't having it. As a comforting gesture, she told me "If you weren't married, you could get it." We became friends, but months later she started dating this man and fell in love with him. Now, I try to call her (she was diagnosed with a serious illness) but she never returns my calls. Really worried about her, but I think she just has me in ig.

Jessica #2: Platonic friends initially, and then it got somewhat scandalous. Before I could make a trip to meet her, she found out she was embarazada from her ex boyfriend. My flirts were then taken to the context of being a..and I quote "pig". We talk once every blue moon now.

Jessica #3: Chatted for a minute, but found out she was only 21. When I told her my age, her interest waned as well.

Jessica #4: We used to make each other think and laugh. See above except she was 17.

Jessica #5: Became my major reason for wanting to go to PR. Disappeared off of the face of the earth. No call, no show.

Jessica #6: Met her in Miami by default. She was a friend of a friend who happened to be hanging with us that night. She and I hit the dance floor. Man, as a Marylander I don't come across many Cuban women. So to see a fair-skinned woman with a figure like a sista and can move like one.....wow. Jessica #6 threw it on me GOOD for like a good hour. Things were looking OUTSTANDING until towards the end of the night when she says "Hey, my buddies are coming thru. Y'all hanging?" I said "Oh fo' sure!" Then I get a tap on the shoulder from Darkness "They all dudes. We need to roll. And roll we did.

Jessica #7: Just met this one. Results pending.

This just in!!! Results from Jessica #7 emails are in! Here is an abridged version of how the Jessica Effect effected Brother Kojak:

(paraphrased) #7: I'm sure we can stay in contact as long as we don't spend too much time talking to each other! LOL! Honestly, if it wasn't for your hilarious journal writing ability, I'd have stopped talking to you once I found out you were a cheater without a cause. LOL! (Just being honest!)
It's all about surrounding myself with good and positive character types. I don't associate myself with cheaters, liars, criminals, ignorant people, and/or atheists. I don't see anything wrong with that...do you?

I guess we liars, cheaters, and criminals have to stick together. I found this great convention coming up this summer that I'm SURE I need to attend.

Coming June 21, 2005

The Liar's, Cheaters, Criminals Convention (LCC)

The Washington, D.C. Convention Center (The LCC capital of the world!)

Come join us for seminars, free food and drink, and free MONEY!!!

Special Keynote Speakers: Former New Jersey Governor James McGreevey, Former DC Mayor Marion Barry, football coah George O'Leary, and special guest speaker President Bill Clinton!

Seminars include:

Don't Let the Bitch Set You Up- M. Barry

How to Keep It On The Down-Low- J. McGreevey

Yeah....I Gots Me a Master's- G. O'Leary

Speech Writing Symantics- B. Clinton

(disclaimer: some and maybe all of the above listed may or may not be false as this is a Liars, Cheaters and Criminals Convention. Participate at your own risk and discretion)

The Hootnanny

...So today I had a meeting with a potential client. It went well too; I think he will use my services as soon as he has all of his stuff in order. We met at the perfect spot for small-business to small-business commerce; Borders Books. Love that spot! Intelligent people (mostly of color) browsing for books, munching on snacks and at every few tables you see 2 or more people reviewing information for a potential LEGAL business transaction. Almost like a New Jack Harlem. Ain't life grande?

Now, the Hootnanny. And you may ask yourself "Self, what is a Hootnanny." Well, I'm glad you didnt ask me because I DAMN sure don't know! To find out, I put on my Boy Scout shirt, my son puts on his Cub Scout shirt, and we go to the Pack meeting. What we were supposed to do was go out caroling and make reefs out of fruit. Thats all well and good, but this was to be done outside.....in 28 degree weather. I said "You done lost your monkey-ass mind! I aint gettin' no five for this!" (well, I said that to myself) I lasted about 15 minutes before I had hallucinations from the ancestors (west African accent):
"Bruda Williams...what are U doing? You know we were neva, EVA worked in de cold of cold. The plains of A-free-ca are free of snow. Dis is NOT de place for YOU!"

"Uh.....I gotta pick my wife up from work. I'll see you guys."

Macaroni and Cheese Rebuttal

Yes! White women have spoken in defense of their grandmothers, aunts, and dem. This is a 2 part series attacking my Macaroni and Cheese thesis. How dare they! One thing that seems to be missing from the rebuttal comments and emails, is the welfare block of cheese. Sure, your grandma MAY have baked her macaroni and cheese, but did she use the "brick" cheese? I think not!! Here is Part I of the back and forth between myself and my white friend, Raquel.


Raquel: so i can be a punk and still know you love me!
kojak2000: yeah yeah
Raquel: even if i eat white people's mac-n-cheese
kojak2000: OH! you read that huh?
kojak2000: see? you don’t know what’s good!
kojak2000: lol
Raquel: no.. that was very racist of you
Raquel: you never had my mac-n-cheese!
kojak2000: ok....break it down for me then
Raquel: and i call it that cuz im lazy.. not cuz its a side dish
Raquel: lol
kojak2000: see? its not racist, theres a big difference there
Raquel: i dont see
Raquel: and i have two different mac casserole recipes
kojak2000: you didn’t read the thing....you got offended and didn’t pay attention
Raquel: no i read it
Raquel: all of it
kojak2000: so what was racist??
Raquel: the part about the poor black folk and the block of cheese that you couldn’t cut
kojak2000: its TRUE
Raquel: omg!!
Raquel: yeah.. but that doesn’t mean that because I’m white i cant cook mac cheese
kojak2000: what are u trying to say?
Raquel: or because i call it mac cheese, that i don’t love it just as much
kojak2000: omg.....be for real
Raquel: i am! you be for real!
Raquel: lol
kojak2000: I pointed out a difference. White people cook mac & cheese differently. And then I explained why
kojak2000: that by no means is racist
Raquel: there are different recipes
Raquel: i will give ya that
Raquel: but you cant say that because im white i can't cook the aaaawwwwww shit! mac cheese
kojak2000: I never said you couldn’t
Raquel: yeah ya do
Raquel: when white people make mac cheese people smile politely
kojak2000: right
Raquel: like its oh god.. not that stuff again
Raquel: lol
kojak2000: lol
kojak2000: oh man.....based on the typical recipe...yes
kojak2000: wouldn’t you??
Raquel: nope!
kojak2000: velvetta and noodles???
Raquel: oh god no
kojak2000: compared to the welfare block??? You must be smoking that stuff
Raquel: shredded longhorn & colby cheese
kojak2000: hehehhehe...ok
kojak2000: I'll have to try that one day **as I smile politely**
kojak2000: LOL...j/k
Raquel: fuck you
Raquel: lol
Raquel: ;-(

kojak2000: I'm telling you.....
kojak2000: folks used to get that back in the day…and had no idea what to do with it
Raquel: could it be its just what you are raised on?
kojak2000: not urban legend. fact
kojak2000: **sigh**
kojak2000: THATS WHAT I WAS SAYING!!!!
Raquel: oh that’s what you meant
Raquel: men.. never mean what they say, and never say what they mean.
kojak2000: black folks were raised on the casserole-ish mac and cheese....no, I said that
kojak2000: I insinuated one was better than the other, but that’s personal preference
Raquel: i was raised on the casserole mac cheese too
kojak2000: did you ever have the casserole-type?
Raquel: i have had more types of mac cheese than you can imagine
kojak2000: that’s not what I asked you
Raquel: i really like the kind that has that crunchy stuff on top
Raquel: yeah you bake it in the oven
kojak2000: now see.....that is DEFINITELY white folks style. Only things crunchy we eat are fried
kojak2000: lol
kojak2000: and...that’s just cultural difference
kojak2000: plain and simple.
Raquel: frying isnt heart smart
kojak2000: you right! thats why we die earlier too. Real dumb

Math Finals

Damn yo...I had to take a break! Shit! My brains are so fried, I can't tell a pig's rooter from the tooter. But I bet I could tell you if its isomorphic, its standard deviation, median, number of vertices, or to analyze it using Euler or Gauss matrix technique.

Quick snaps....

My stomach growling was noticably loud. Embarrassing. Not like I'm even hungry.

Came into the bathroom and saw the guy who blew the mo fo up. He gave me this look like "Damn. you caught me." at least he washed his hands.

Thurs. afternoon and the celly is blowning up. WTF? Any other Thurs. nada. And of course, no Jessicas calling me but thats a given.

I need to quit both my full time and part time jobs. I think I'm over-compensating the child-like energy because teenage girls are giving me the look over. Fellas, don't that just hurt your feelings? I mean, yes, this is a young woman giving you the look over and what can YOU do? Tell her don't do that? Get her phone number? NO! Is it a compliment or an insult? I don't know...I'm torn and shit.

You can tell when the tuition money is about up at U of B when its cold in every building. Damn heat on strike. Where is that chic with the little girl coat when I need her? (see WTF's entry)

Black people word of the day: sausases. Translation: sausages. Used in a sentence: "I like sausases in the mo'ning with my grits. I don't never put sausases on pizza. That there is breakfast food!"

Wish me luck. I'm out.

Ladies....A Serious Matter

YES!! I can be serious too!

I don't like bringing down the vibe of my blog unless something that has happened that has touched my heart and soul.

Today I went to the Sprint store to get my phone repaired. While standing in line I heard a familiar voice say behind me "What are you doing here bothering us early in the morning?" It was a woman I've grown to like (platonically) named Jesse. I approached her and gave her a big hug. When I was close to her something was different in her appearance. But we men need to leave that alone because lots of women like to flip their appearances for various reasons. Anyway, she said "I'm glad you came by because this is my last week before I take medical leave."
"Oh? What's wrong? You aight?"
"I have breast cancer and my chemotherapy is getting harder to deal with. I just stay tired all of the time."

Whoa. Ton of bricks

Ergo the difference in appearance...wig, sunken eyes, and dark knuckles. I didnt know whether to be sympathetic or proud. Why proud? Because her was another sister, the 2nd one I've know in the past year or 2 who is fighting breast cancer with true strength, vigor, and dignity. She could have started waiting for me to give the long-drawn out "I'm sorry" and "thats so terrible". Instead, she matter-of-factly explained what was about to happen, took my phone and walked to the backroom to repair it. Yes, she may have been thru the denial stage and all that other shit about the stages of grief, but all I know is that Jesse has her head up and will not go down with a can of ass whopping fight.

I didnt want to go deep into that because I have studying to do but that really touched my heart, for real. So ladies, please, please, PLEASE begin to adopt the Breast Cancer Prevention Buddy System. What you are supposed to do every 2 months is remind a friend that it is time to do your self-check. She is supposed to return the favor. And it is also important to get your annual mammogram. Your insurance sucks, you say? I think it would suck more to be blind-sighted by and illness that can kill you. I also think it would be worth the $700 for an out-of-pocket mammogram or to head to the community clinic. Do that today please. I've seen the stages of breast cancer consuming once beautiful women into beings who have death lurking near them until they succumb. Some of you I know pretty well. That's not something ANYONE should experience from any perspective. Thanks ladies; and I'm sure your family will thank you as well.


Next entry: The Macaroni and Cheese Thesis Rubuttal! White woman defends herself and her culture!

Blog Vacation

Ok you idlers. This week is your time to take a break from blogging and do some damn work. I mean, damn. That IS what you get paid for, right? This next coming week is going to be finals week for me and I can already smell an ass kicking. Yeah, that's right, MINE. I'll try to keep things in my head until its time to blog again (yeah right) because I'm going to a Christmas party and concert with WhatAboutMe on Friday. Hopefully I'll be able to document all of the evening's events if they are interesting. There are archieves of stuff I've added for your rainy day reading pleasure. But for now, adieu... (or however you spell that shit)

old posts

I have some old posts that I havent read in a long time. I strongly suggest these 2, especially for the fellas.

More about the D*#k (8/6?/2003)
Nature of the Beast (6/12?/2003)

I'll have a brand new posting up here before the end of the day. In the meantime.....enjoy.

WTF's Throughout the Day....

One thing about this blog is that when there is very little going on as far as stories, thecies or reflection, I will do wtf's as in What The SoundsLikeDuckButBeginsWithTheSameLetterAsFart. WTF's are observations of dumbness. Like, ordering a meal from McDonald's and getting a diet coke. WTF type shit is that? Or when you are laying the game on a honey and your boy comes in, interupts the convo, and starts in on a new topic.....WTF is you doing?? (Note the break in grammatical context. An action like that is so appauling that you loose all sentence of sentence and tense structure.)

today's WTF's:

I'm standing in line at the Wendy's in the suburban hood. Bad enough that the sista behind the counter is moving slower than a sloth on smak, but the old dude behind me has like a mild case of Teret's or something. Now, that shit aint funny (per say), but if you got the Teret's type thing where you can't shut the hell up, shouldn't you take ALL your meds? This kat was steady saying "mmmm hmmm...yea." And no matter who was talking, no matter where they were in the room, he had an interject.
(Way across the room) She: Damn, its so hot in here!
He: Mmm hmm....yeah. It hot alright. It's hot..."
And see the shit is amusing because it was Teret-like so you sensitive folks get your draws out of your crack (can't do that if you wearing thongs though, huh?). As a matter of fact, please remind me to drop some of my AuntDizzy stories on y'all just to show that I can give it and dish it. My AuntDizzy is mentally challenged.
But I digress. Here's the WTF part....WHY did I start doing that same shit? From the time I time I was about to leave until the time I pulled back into the school parking lot, I was doing it too. Although mine was along the lines of something like "uh huh...yeah. yeah"
So I say to myself "Self, WTF is you doing? Get your shit together before somebody hears you!"


I leave work and get into my car when I notice the school crossing guard get into her car. Oh yeah, crossing gaurd (@ $6.60 an hour) is rocking a relatively late-model Jag. WTF type shit is that???? Now, there could be a number of reasons for that, but at 1st site, the shit just don't match. It's obvious that she has another job somewhere else, but really! I just don't get it. WAY too complicated to try and figure out.

why in the f(@$ is this chic sitting next to me wearing that hot ass winter coat when its about 73 degrees in here and 60 degrees outside? What, you afraid to take it off because you think somebody gonna steal it? Chile please! One of them damn big ass fake-out ski coats, baby blue, with the stitching all around the torso and arms. Looking like a big ass little girl.
Lab Tech: "Excuse BigAssLittleGirl, this lab is for U of B students only. But Chester Heights Elementary's media center with the smiley-faced sunshines all over the place is still open. You better hurry! They still serving peanut butter and celery for afternoon snack!"

Shit....making ME hot just looking at you. WTF is you doing??

Weekend Field Trip

But earlier today, The group I work with took about 20 kids to a video recording studio at Bowie State University. There they showed them some of the basics of the studio and got the opportunity to not only produce a short show with the King and Queen of Bowie State, but also do their very own weather and traffic report. Although my son was the youngest, I must admit he was the best one. Talent just RUNS in the fam, n'yamean?

The one thing that I CANNOT go without mentioning was the ride over there. The bus driver, God bless her, wore these thick-ass magnifying glass type glasses and drove like she was about 30 years her senior. I wanted to say "Damn, I could out run this bus." But I thought better of it. But I digress....when we were finally pulling into the university, I overheard one of the convos going on in the back of the bus..."

"You know, all roaches have antlers...."

Antlers? Antlers? Now, instead of doing the adult thing and correcting him from the word "antlers" to "antennae" I sat there and pondered how could he come up with such a thing. Meanwhile, the convo persisted.
"Yeah, and they got wings too."
"They ain't got no wings, man!"
"Yes they do! They just don't fly."

....I suppose if you looked at a roach at a glimpse, you would think they have antlers...I mean a real quick look....

"Uh huh. I seen one fly before. It flew from Tasha's braids out the window."
**laughter**

...but what if roaches really DID have antlers instead of antennae? Would they still have the same function as the antennae based on the roaches need? Of course not! Well, shit. I don't know...

The bus stops and we begin to disembark. One mother says to a group of the kids "Damn! Can't never take y'all no where. Y'all stay ghetto!"
And one of the more laid-back boys of the program shrugs his shoulders and answers "That's where we from."


And later that evening.....
We were all worn out by our outing with the kids. It was time to chill. At my parents' house, that means beverages and all kinds of potato chips. We had guests over the house as well and one of them had a cold. Do you know after she wiped her nose with a Kleenex no soon after she stuck her hand in the bag of chips? I didn't see the incident, but I know that my parents are SERIOUS about potato chip night. Everytime I mention the incident, they both get bitter.

My Macaroni and Cheese Thesis

Mmm mmm mmm. There is nothing like a big dinner with the fam where there's the candied yams, pineapple glazed ham, potato salad., and if you're lucky, chicken gizzards.

What's wrong, doesn't sound familiar. Well, that could be because these are the some of the ingredients from a black family's dinner minus one essential dish. Macaroni and cheese.
You see, macaroni and cheese is a dish that is a staple of the black family Big Dinner diet. It's even pronounced differently than white people pronounce it.
White Man: Can you please pass me the mac and cheese?
Black Man: Can you please pass me the macaroni and cheese?
Old Black Man: Let me get some of dat mac-da-roni and cheese!

You see that? Note the subtle difference between the White Man and the Black Man. "mac and cheese". "macaroni and cheese". To the White Man, macaroni and cheese is just a side dish. A mere starch added to your baked chicken and vegetable medley. But for Blacks, its an entrée. Its an entrée de jour especially when Aunt Sissy who's lived in hood for the past 20 years in her tiny yet immaculate house with the plastic chair covers in the living room fixes it. When you see and smell that baby come out the oven, your first reaction is to look at your cousin Tay and say simultaneously "Awwwwwww, shit!"

Now, let us examine the obvious and subtle differences between White People macaroni and cheese and Black People macaroni and cheese.


White People
Texture: Soupy, has to be served with a large spoon
Color: Almost white. Hmmm...white, white people...is there a connection?
Cheese: Velvetta. Damn, is Velveta really cheese?
Weight: Heavy. High water content
Family Reaction: **grateful smiles**


Black People
Texture: Thick. Casserole-like. Might have to cut if the right cheese is used
Color: Light, golden brown
Cheese: Extra-sharp cheddar. American Welfare if you're lucky
Weight: Heavy. High cheese content
Family Reaction: "awwwwww, shit!"



But wait! There's more!
Now you may ask me "Brother Kojak, why is this so?" I would respond "Well, my little White Friend, it's like this..."

"During slavery, Blacks had to take what they were given from the master. That meant chicken gizzards, chicken feet, chitterlings, fish heads, and that vine fruit that grows prolifically in the Southern summer heat, watermelon. The slaves became creative and made these dishes cultural delicacies.
After slavery...well, WAY after slavery, Blacks began to have more means than before, but still lacked the exposure to White American culture. So, some dishes were wild variations of origin White dishes. One of these dishes was macaroni and cheese. Poor Blacks were receiving foods from the government based on income. Now, one of those foods was a block of "American" cheese that was only a foot long, but weighed about 300 lbs. You couldn't slice it for sandwiches; nobody could afford a kitchen knife that sharp. You couldn't use it for grilled cheese sandwiches, by the time the cheese would melt the bread would be blacker than my ass. So, its best use was to cut it as best as you could, and throw it in the oven for macaroni and cheese entrée. Voila. Black People Macaroni and Cheese."

And you might ask me "Brother Kojak, Kwanzaa is coming up. I want to have some of the Black holiday experience. How can I, a white person make Black People Macaroni and Cheese?"
And I would say to you "Well, my White Dance-Floor-Impaired friend, **except for you Mami** I'm going to tell you right now..."

Black People Macaroni and Cheese

Ingredients:
1/2 box of Mueller's elbow noodles
2.5 cups of milk (and not that soy or rice shit either!)
1 lb. of extra-sharp cheddar cheese, chunked (sorry, Reagan squashed the welfare cheese blocks a long time ago)
4 tablespoon of butter or margarine
1 egg (optional)

Pour milk (and not that soy or rice shit either!) into a pot. I forget the specific name, the big one with the handle. Add the noodles to the milk. Bring the milk to a slight boil and stir periodically. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. If you wish to make your mac-da-roni and cheese so thick you gotta cut that bitch, then take your egg and crack it into a bowl. Wisk it heavily, or until it's almost foamy. Let sit until needed.
After about 10 minutes, turn off heat. Grab a 9 x 7 baking dish and place noodles into the dish. Now, here is the trick., the more milk that's added to the pan, the more you fade away from the recipe. Leave enough milk so that there is maybe a sixteenth of an inch worth of milk on the bottom of the pan. Pour the cheese over the noodles. If you wish to use the egg, pour the egg over the mixture and stir all together. Spread the mixture out so that it is evenly distributed in the bowl. Place the pan in the oven and let cook for about 35 minutes or until the top is a slight golden brown. Enjoy. And if you don't say "Awwww, shit!" After that first bite, you did something wrong."


Oh! And to be fair, I'll give you the recipe for White People Macaroni and Cheese.

Ingredients
1 box of Kraft macaroni and cheese.


Follow the directions on the box. Enjoy.

Credit where credit is due

I'd like to give a shout out to fellow blogger WebmasterMama who INDEED taught me how to bachata. I must have sucked when she was teaching me cause I dont remember all that! But I felt the figurative cold steel to my head as I read the comment:

At 10:55 AM, WebmasterMama said...
Didn't someone I know teach you bachata???

thanks mami.....**smile**


I guess while I'm here I can type in my entry for today. Unfortunately, I don't have anything of true interest to add today. I am jive-like tired because I crashed over my cousin's house which forced my son and I in the same bed. Man. That little boy makes these weird old man sounds that just blow my mind. Its like a "**smack, smack, GULP! mmm" sound. That's my best way to describe it literally. I retreated to the living room chair and ottoman downstairs. I'm still milking those 3 hours of sleep.

I had a blog a couple of years ago on a different site. I'm going to move it here because all of the people who joined that site are no longer there and that was the primary way of keeping in touch with them without committing to a phone call or email. So look for those entries that will be marked for your viewing and chin rubbing pleasure.

next blog entry.....White people mac and cheese versus black people mac and cheese.

Damn! I still got it!

I'm going to make this short as possible as my ass is tired. Not from work mind you, but thinking about all of the stuff I'm SUPPOSED to be doing instead of this blog. **rolling eyes**

Good day today....didnt have to sub, got to stay in my office the whole time. I completed a work assignment nice and early. I ran into a faux paus as my soon-to-be ex decided she wanted to work this evening. I had to drive the 30 to get the offspring. When I got back, he told me he was hungry and the only thing cooked was ultra-healthy stir fry and black rice. Keep in mind this is a modern 7 yr old, so that shit just wouldnt do.

So I went to the store to get him something to eat at the closest Jamaican eatery. Man they took a long time! And I have about as much patience as George Bush has social etiquette. So when it was time to get my order, I approached the counter. The waitress said "we don't have any more beef patties....with your cute self". She smiled. I smiled and blushed (if that is physically possible). We adjusted the order, and as I was about to leave she said "Wait. Hold up." I obliged. She held out in front of me my receipt; on the back of it a name and number. "Take or leave it" she smiled........

Dedicated to Tom and Dem II

I’m just being silly. So we adults made tiny plates for ourselves while the kids played. We talked amongst ourselves and were later joined by CalientePrima, Silly’s HOT cousin who happened to sit next to me. Now, I’m the kind of man where if you sit next to me, and give the laugh with the pat on the shoulder, or sit so close that our legs have continuous incidental contact, I’m going to think you’re interested. But I was told by WhatAboutMe that she only digs the Dominican brothas. I don’t have enough sazon in the blood for her tastes. So that was a question mark most of the night in my brain. So much so that I had to sit somewhere else to force the issue of her not being interested. Given the state of my marriage and my level of poverty, a date is nowhere in the near future. I’ll get back to the marriage issue on a slow blog day.

Later into the night after swearing off alcohol, I went ahead and had some wine. ( I wasn’t going to drink because I usually drink beer and beer is mucus forming. Currently I’m fighting some type of respiratory infection.) I was warned by Silly that HISYPOTI’s dad likes to get his guests lit. I made the mistake of asking him for the wine. Here’s the convo:

Papi: What are you looking for?
Me: The wine….vino.
Papi: Ahhhh!! El vino. Esta ahi.
Me: Ok, cool. Gracias. (He pours) Whoa! That’s enough.
Papi: Oh, but there is only a little in the bottle. Why don’t you drink?
Me: Nah. Save that for later. I’ll…uh..be back.
Papi: Ok. I save this for you.
Me: Gracias Papi.
Papi: Happy…(thinking about it) Thanksgiving Day!
Me: Si, Feliz El Dia de Gracias!
Papi: Si!

So I drink my drink, and dance with the Birthday Girl. (Yes, it was a Birthday/Thanksgiving affair) She was shocked that I knew how to dance bachata. “Where are you from?”
“Oh, I’m American. (pause) I’m just very well rounded.” Then I flashed her the killer smile. Force of habit. So after the dance I sit down next to CaleintePrima. Let’s just say I’m a glutton for punishment. Then I get a tap on the shoulder:

Papi: Hey! I been looking for you! Here is your wine.
Me: Oh…uh…thanks.
Luckily, the wine wasn’t too strong. Just enough to make get up and dance more. HISYPOTI was telling CalientePrima something about my size and height in Spanish. Then she asked me what size shoe I wear. When I told her she said “OH!” and pulled me closer. Funny.

I don’t think I’ve ever stayed out that late for Thanksgiving before. I didn’t get back to my parents’ house until about 1:30 am. It was difficult at first, but with the help and love from my friends Silly and WhatAboutMe I was able to cope with the feelings of sadness and emptiness that went along with my first Thanksgiving without my family.

Friday's Thanksgiving

My long-time friend WorldofThought invited me over his house for an alternative Thanksgiving feast. Apparently, he and his uncle's signals got crossed as far as who was going to cook on Thanksgiving. Uncle won out, so Thanksgiving II was on Friday. I took my son over there and we both had a great time. I reminisced while he played with WorldofThought's kids. I had not seen WorldofThought's parents in about 5 years so it was great to see them again. They had a huge influence on raising me whether they know it or not. My blood family members have referred to them as my Other Parents. We both except that title mutually. It was an odd feeling though, because even though it was the norm that my son and I were there together without my wife, it still felt weird not having her implicit presence there. It was very saddening and I was told today by a good friend that I need to forgive myself for all of the deceitful and selfish things I've done to my wife no matter how bad they were.

So what was I thankful for? I was thankful for seeing my Other Parents, thankful that my brother in life WorldofThought isn't and hasn't gone thru the dumb shit I'm going thru, I was thankful that there were happy, healthy people there who made me feel the same.

Dedicated to Tom Turkey and Dem

Tom got housed!!!! One day he’s in the yard, chilling with the other Turks, eatin’ good, fresh air, nice crib, clean water. Life is good, right?


Until that truck comes and scoops his ass and all the asses of his peeps up into a truck and Tom ended up on the dining room table featherless, headless, and the little pop-up thing they put in his chest so that the Thanksgiving novices know that his ass is done. I tell you what though; Tom was tender and juicy!


This was the first Thanksgiving without my wife and son. They had plans so I had to get some. Luckily, my homegirl (we will refer to her from here on out as WhatAboutMe) and our mutual friend (we will refer to her from here on out as Silly) invited me to tag along. I met everyone at Silly’s house where dinner was in the oven. Of course, I fussed. I’m a very fussing man. I would admit it if I was bitchy, but there is a difference. Fussy is entertaining and no one pays you any real attention. Bitchy is when fussy gets annoying.

Ok, so to distract myself I volunteered to go to the grocery store and Silly came along. We walk in of course, to the ridiculously long lines caused by the other procrastinators. So Silly’s idea was for me to stand in line while she gets the stuff. Kool. I stand there, and there are 2 20-Somethings at the checkout. 5 minutes later, Silly is back, and I’m still standing in the same spot.
“What’s going on?” Silly asks.
“I don’t know. These chics up here, man…”

At one point, the 2 girls stared at each other, the cashier; the cashier stared back, then at the man behind them…Finally, they walked out, but without groceries! Silly and I looked at each other. “Dayum!” she gasped. “I think I’ll hit the ATM so that doesn’t happen to us.”

When poor Tom was done we tore his ass up. I had all dark meat (of course) colored-people’s mac and cheese (folks, there is a difference. But that’s a whole blog in of itself), biscuits, and green beans. And to keep that warm fuzzy life-is beautiful vibe, we watched “Kill Bill”.

After “Kill Bill” we packed into the car and drove to HaventISeenYourPicOnTheInternet’s (HISYPOTI) parents’ house for round two. We get there and are seated at the table. Maybe it’s coincidental, but why was the colored-folks mac and cheese place RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY black ass???? Why not to anyone else around the table? Hmmmmm???

Cub Scout Spirit

Today is a day for chilling. I don't any better way to relax than waking up on Sunday during football season. I get up, do chores, watch pre-game shows, and then the main events. I think the only thing better than that would be to have all of that, wake up with a beautiful woman lying next to you, and NOT having to do those chores because you are vacationing. **sigh**

But thats not the case today. Today the Cub Scouts are going to rake leaves for elder families. We had a surprisingly large turn-out minus the dads who were glued to the tv sets for the game. Damn I was jealous.

I was jealous, but not for long. Raking those leaves made me think about a lot of things. We had fun and it was tough keeping the kids focused, but they helped too. The hard work and fun kept me from thinking too too much. Things that I thought about; the fact that my son wasn't there with me hurt because it was my fault. The fact that some of the things I've done to someone else have ripped them from the inside out. And here I am, using one of my favorite days of the week to do a good deed for someone I don't even know. The epitome of an oxymoron.

Saturday

Life is an ass-cramp when things arent going the way you want them too. Its one thing when "shit happens", its another when you doing the wrong thing and the consequences are the exactly how you thought they would be.

Its Sat., I'm chilling at the house, just waiting for the day to...evolve. I was supposed to be making a website with a friend, but I think her boyfriend has her tied up, literally. I'm supposed to be studying with my friend The Spanish (sorry, but its easier to nickname folks in improvised ebonics) , but her boyfriend had her tied up last night, literally.

So, now I'm just chilling going to watch a football game or 2 and work on the website myself.

I have a rant brewing in my head, but I'm waiting for it to fully simmer saute. I shall return.....


.......Damn. I lost the rant. One thing thats on my mind is the fear of being single again. Under different circumstances, it might be cool. But now 30+ , 1 kid, substantially underpaid, and semi-nomadic, I definitetly dont rise to the top as a great catch. No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself. You make your bed you have to sleep in it. I just have the worst feeling that my future dates are going to consist of convos like this:

"Oh! You back again, huh?"
"Yeah, you hooked me up last week. Just got paid too. You got change for a $50?"

Nite at the Love Cafe

Yes, I was among the bloggers who made it out to the Love Cafe last night. I missed a good portion of the festivities. When I got there there was a blogger reading one of his works and I just wanted to go to him and say "Brother, the womenz have got your balls in a jar. Stop being the girlfriend with the penis!" But the Mrs. was with me with a growling stomach so we parlayed down U St. We proceeded to the Cada Vez, a restaurant/lounge/bar/conference room that usually has decent food and entertainment. Well, the entertainment was implied. Let me explain....we walked into the spot, and me being familiar with the place I knew something was going on as the front counter covered the visibility of the restaurant. When we approached closer an amazon of a woman smiled at us "May I help you?"
"Wait a minute," I thought. A took a closer look. Hmmmmm......
"Whats going on here?" I asked.
"It's a...errr....'banquet' she smiled.
"oh ok. Thanks anyway."
We stepped back on the sidewalk and I looked at my wife. "Notice anything funny about the hostess?"
She suppressed a grin because she knew I was going to say something crazy. "What?"
And in my best Austin Powers voice, "That was a maaan baby!"
She laughed. "For real?"
"Yeah that was a man! His voice was lower than mine and shit!"
Then, out of the God-forsaken Blue, this brotha who I've never met in my life walking the opposite direction says "No it wasn't!"
"Yes it was!" I cried.
"Huh? For real? In there??" he asked pointing in the Cada Vez.
I said "Hell yeah! Go see for yourself and YOU tell ME that aint a dude."
He shrugged his shoulders and walked off.
My wife and I strolled down the block and FINALLY picked a restaurant. It was an odd experience for me because my buddy and I would rely heavily on getting a table at the Cafe Nema back in the day. Now, U St. has Starbucks, Subway, and other commercialized favorites. **sigh**

On the way back we approached the Cada Vez. Fortunately for us, the festivities were just ending and all of the "gals" were exiting the spot. I'd say that at least half of them were 5'10 or so. AND wearing heels gracefully. I was impressed. "I don't give a damn what she said! I'm a big girl now and I can handle anything that flow!" I heard one of them say.
Big girl indeed!

We continued to walk and as we passed the doors, one of the spot's workers said (as if we asked him) "Not every night...some nights, but not every night."

For the next 2 blocks, I couldn't get that Crystal Waters song out of my head:

she's just like you and me
but she's homeless
she's homeless
as she sits there, begging for money
dada de, dada da
dada de, dada da
dada de, dada da
dada de, dada da

Tues

Tues is my long day. I go to work, hang at my moms for a minute, then go work at the community project. What we are doing is producing an anti-smoking video for kids. Actually, the kids are doing all of the production, we adults are just guiding them and helping them stay focused. After that, I went to DC to the U St area to go to a Hip Hop Alliance meeting. This org. is trying to get DC hip hop on the map. Its very exciting to feel that energy come together. However, there was no meeting tonite because there were a few no-shows. So the 12 or so of us just kinda hung out.Now, here it is 5 something in the goddam morning and I cant sleep. I guess Im stressing this paper that is due today that I thought was due next Wed. **sigh**grumble of the day: I have this shirt, I call it my guido shirt. (yes, thats a bit of a racist statement so to my reader of Italian descent, I hope you arent offended) It looks like a shirt Big Pussy (dont you just love saying that???) would wear. All white with a baby blue collar and baby blue stripes going down the chest. Pretty much the anti-thesis of what a typical dredded brotha like myself would wear. Man....that shirt is ruined now! I have no idea how, but everytime I wash it, weird brown spots appear on it. They look like grease stains, but they wont come out. My last ditch..... the Korean Lady. Which Korean Lady I dont know, but she gonna HAVE TO run a dry cleaning spot of some sort.Korean Lady...Im putting my trust in you. You can say "FI-NINETY-FI" ($5.95) all you want, but please. Just fix my shit.

Tuesdays

Tues is my long day. I go to work (the next time I can remember, I'll talk about work), hang at my moms for a minute, then go work at the community project. What we are doing is producing an anti-smoking video for kids. Actually, the kids are doing all of the production, we adults are just guiding them and helping them stay focused. After that, I went to DC to the U St area to go to a Hip Hop Alliance meeting. This org. is trying to get DC hip hop on the map. Its very exciting to feel that energy come together. However, there was no meeting tonite because there were a few no-shows. So the 12 or so of us just kinda hung out.

Now, here it is 5 something in the goddam morning and I cant sleep. I guess I'm stressing this paper that is due today that I thought was due next Wed. **sigh**

grumble of the day: I have this shirt, I call it my guido shirt. (yes, thats a bit of a racist statement so to my readers of Italian descent, I hope you arent offended) It looks like a shirt Big Pussy (dont you just love saying that???) would wear. All white with a baby blue collar and baby blue stripes going down the chest. Pretty much the antithesis of what a typical dredded brotha like myself would wear. I love it.
Man....that shirt is ruined now! I have no idea how, but everytime I wash it, weird brown spots appear on it. They look like grease stains, but they wont come out. My last ditch..... the Korean Lady. Which Korean Lady I dont know, but she gonna HAVE TO run a dry cleaning spot of some sort.

Korean Lady...I'm putting my trust in you. You can say "FI-NINETY-FI" ($5.95) all you want, but please. Just fix my shit.

My 1st posting!!

Hey hey hey wassup, Blog people. This my 1st entry on here so bear w/ me. THis is going to be difficult for me because I lead kind of an incognito life. But the PG-13 stuff I will share with you.

1st, a little about me. Student at a school in Baltimore, MD but grew up in Northern VA (I should have never left). Early 30's, Black, smarter than average, and am best described as neo-eclectic. Marital status? Please. Let's not even go there.

Ok, this was the first Sunday of NFL football. I GET SICED!! I was so siced I saw...let's see...yeah! ZERO damn games! Thats right. None. My dad treated me like Toby from "Roots" early that morning and when I got back I had a meeting with some co-contractors. ( I freelance, erego the poverty state) Then, I wanted to see this band play in Mt Vernon called Audio Fix. A little jazz fusion with a heavy dose of hip hop. No rapping, byt they had a dj. It would have been a tight combo if they had a sax player. They told me to get my chops together so that I could join them one day. Shiiiiiiiiiiiit. But we shall see. What was funny was that there were only a few 30 and 20-somethings in there, but the vast majority were baby-boomers tapping their feet. Hmmm!

I'm at school now, trying to avoid studying. **sigh** BUt I'll get on it. In a minute......

here I'm is!

man....its been a minute. what did you miss? Not much. I went to TX to see some drag racing et al.....hehehehe. It was a good trip I got to check out Austin as well. Strange town. I think folks thought I was Ricky Williams because I got a bunch of 2nd and 3rd looks. OOOOH!! The "I dont play pro ball update"Sept 20: Im jogging during my sons soccer game. I run around a building and this man and his son are walking. He goes "Uh oh! Watch out son. he may tackle you." and laughed. I didnt.Sept 27: Im running late for work, but I have to drop some books off at the library. I go thru the one way entrance of a library and skid into a parking space. there is this dude standing there smoking a cigarette. I ask him "You aint see me make that illegal turn did you?"him: Naw I aint see nuthin.him: (After I droped the books into the book dropoff) For a second there I thought you were Ricky Williams jumping out of that truck like that.....Oct 3: I go down to ask the consiere (sp?) where certain stuff is. While talking to him one of the bellhops comes in and saying, joking "Awww, man! I didnt know Ricky Williams was staying with us!"Who is this Ricky Williams man? http://www.run-ricky-run.com/

man notes

I know some of you like to come on here to hear a mans point a view on things. I also know a couple of you are single moms. When you are a single mom, so things you just cant teach your son no matter how good of a study you are.My son and I had a daddy-son moment EARLY this morning. he was coughing profusely so I got up and got him some cough syrup. Now, we all know Robitussin has a kick to it. Dats dat alk-da-hol (alcohol). So he takes a swig, I go "Take it all the way down, son" and he drinks it all at once. He goes "Ah...", smacks his lips, then looks at me. I look back and give him the slow 2-nod head nod. He replies with the same nod. Understand that exchange?See.....in that 1 sentence dialogue amongst males, the convo would have gone like this....Me: Take it all the way down. Dont be a pussy and sip it.Him: Ok. Ill try not to taste itMe: (after the drink) You feel that?Him: Yeah. Right in the chest.Me: Good thats where you need it.This is what some women dont get; how men can communicate so well with each other and not them. Its because we have exchanges like that from a young age. I wasnt that good at it back in the day, but my son will be because he has more of a male presence than I did.CLass dismissed!!! LOL

More about the D*#k

I have one more d*#k story for you and Ill leave you lone...hehehehheSo I was trying to date this GORGEOUS Lebanese chic in college. We got along great, even had chemistry. Unfortunately the only chemistry she was interested in was at school. she felt she didnt have time for a boyfriend but still liked hanging out with me and stuff. It was a nightmare. THis honey on my arm all the time with NO benefits. Get the idea?So we had just had a talk in car about what I just mentioned and I was kool with that...I wasnt doing anything else. So we get to the club, dance floor is packed. I see this honey trying to dance up on me. Shiiiiit! Me and homegirl are "friends" so I make my move on the other chic. Lebanon saw this and (get this).....STEPPED IN FRONT OF THE GIRL FACING HER AND STARTED DANCING LOOKING THE CHIC DEAD IN HER FACE. Oh it gets worse!! The next song that comes on is a slow one. We reluctantly dance with each other. UGH!! she was smellin' so good.....the closer I pulled her the more relaxed she became. My hands wandered up and down her back and hips....she didnt flinch. And somehow, some way at the tender age of 22, I managed not to get a hard-on. Can you believe it?????? 1o years later, there is no way I could repeat that...she would just have to be poked in the hip!! LOL!!