Tuesday, October 31, 2006

The past two nights, I've had some horrid dreams man. And I don't want to turn this space into Dream Interpretation 101, but I'd be a fool if I didn't write about them, because these aren't your normal run-of-the-mill dreams. Two nights ago, I had a dream that I was visiting an African village, and when I peeked into one of the tents, I saw dead bodies everywhere. And these weren't freshly dead bodies, they looked as if they had been dead for quite some time. And then last night, I had a dream that my mother, my father, my brother and I were driving in the car, except my father was drunk and hitting parked cars. I yelled at my father(something I have never done in my 31 years) to pull over and I took over the wheel, but as I passed him outside the car, I asked him what the hell he was thinking(again, I've only cursed at my father one time, but never in an angry context). Both dreams were quick, but they definitely stuck with me. I haven't talked to my dad in a little bit, so I definitely need to call him, but why was the entire family together? That happens very little. In terms of the other dream, why the hell am I dreaming of dead African people in their villages? All this, and I haven't had a drink in two weeks.

I've come to conclusion that I am grossly underachieving in my life, and that is NOT an easy realization to admit to myself, let alone in a written forum. Judging by the responses I've gotten to my writing, and my own personal desires, I know I need to be writing something for someone and receiving some type of financial compensation for it as well. My passions are sports and writing, and my current job doesn't highlight either. In fact, NO paying job I've ever had has really done so. I've been quietly making moves to right this wrong, but in the interim, it gets increasingly difficult to come to work and be even remotely productive for sustained intervals of time(and yes that was a run-on sentence, but I was flowing man) An ex of mine used to tell me that getting paid big bucks was way more important than doing something you love, because ultimately bills needed to be paid. I thought she was a jackass then, and I think she's a bigger jackass now. Plus, she was rejected in her attempts to do what she loved, so I think she there were some residual hurt feelings, she was throwing my way. Not to get overly spiritual here, but I firmly believe that if you follow what God has placed in your heart as a passion, you will reap the financial rewards. And I'm dead serious when I say that, no sarcasm. This concludes the religious portion of the blog.

It seems as if Aaron McGruder, creator of the The Boondocks, has pulled a Chappelle, and walked away from his daily creation of the comicstrip. He has chosen to focus on the cartoon which airs on Comedy Central, and an upcoming movie. I've followed Aaron since the days when he only wrote for the University of Maryland newspaper(the Diamondback I believe its called), and I was disappointed to read that, especially since it seemed like one of the few comics that actually balanced political statements with humor. I've watched a few episodes of his show, and I was kind of lukewarm on it. I guess that's all I have now.

And finally, whoever invented this idea of turning the clocks back is a jackass. I keep waking up at 4:50 am, an hour earlier than I used to, and then when I get off work, its already dark. So now when I wake up its dark, and when I leave work its dark as well, which means my days are bookended with darkness. Perhaps THAT'S why I had the dream about Africa...

Monday, October 30, 2006

My homecoming/visit with my son weekend was damn good again. I've decided to chronicle that entire day in a log format. Enjoy.

7:30am: My mother and I wake up, and head to Starbucks for the upcoming drive. She flirts with the young West Indian brother behind the counter, I politely excuse myself from the Starbucks premises. Not only is it too early to be trying to get a phone number, but I simply do not need to see this.

7:31: My mother delivers her "we're getting ready to travel" prayer, in a record 45 seconds, as opposed to the marathon 5 minute sessions I am used. The first sign that a good day is ahead

8-9am: My mother and I listen to the Audrey Chapman show on WHUR radio. Audrey is a psychologist who fields phone calls from people who need help with relationships. Today's topic: Are there too few eligible men in Washington DC?. I listen silently, and surprisingly so does my mother. Good times!

9-10am: My mother touched on a variety of subjects during this time from recreational sex, to her upcoming book, to my sex life, and I can honestly say I tuned out about 65% of it. Not much to report here

10:30am: I arrive at my son's residence, and he promptly invites in to play a game of John Madden '07. Now mind you, I haven't played a video game since Tecmo Bowl back in 1991, so I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Carlton gave me a crash course, and I attempted to play him, and he killed me. And he was so gracious in doing it too, he kept saying, "it's ok Daddy I'm really good". Just then, one of Carlton's cousins ran by and kicked the plug right out of the outlet..that was cue to tell Carlton that we needed to go...

11:30 am: Carlton says to me, "Daddy, you should take a different way to the game this time, since you got stuck in traffic before". I look back at him say thank you, and my mother gives me this look that says, "payback is quite the bitch isn't it". I appreciate my son's smarts, but damn let me drive little man

11:45am: We set foot on Hampton University's campus and nostalgia rushes in. There are tailgaters, vendors, current students, recent alumni, older alumni, and damn near ancient alumni walking around in preparation for the football game. I saw and ignored a few people I knew, and I stopped and spoke to others. When I introduced my son to people, and told them he was 9, I could see folks doing the math in their head. My son was giving me the look that I give my mother when see takes me around church..once again, payback is a bitch.

12:00 pm: I take my son to the barbershop. The downside of having a child with a white woman, is that she doesn't really understand how important it is for any child, but particularly a black child, to keep a fresh haircut. It does wonders for the self-esteem, and it fends off the other black kids at school who WILL clown. Once we are in the barbershop, my son gives me his mini scouting report on what Hampton U. needs to do to win. I can barely contain my smile..this is MY child. Sports and all.

12:15pm: My mother bursts in the barbershop like the Kool Aid man, in an attempt to photograph young Carlton while he's in the barbershop. This action of course, breaks all types of barbershop etiquette rules, but I give my mother a pass since she's in the midst of her grandmotherness. A couple of barbershop dudes comment on this, and I explain that she doesn't get many chances to play grandma..Still, Carlton and I got funny looks until we got the hell out of there.

1:00pm: We sit down in the football stadium an hour early, in an effort to get a good seat. Carlton breaks out his scouting report once again, although this time I'm only halfway listening, because I'm too busy scanning the crowd for people I know. This is wrong I know, but dammit, this was my homecoming, and I had already received the Carlton homecoming an hour earlier. My mother was struggling to stay warm in the howling wind, and I felt bad for her.

1:30: The new Jay-Z song comes blaring out of the loudspeakers, and my son knows the chorus. I had mixed feelings about this..then the next song, "Ballin" comes on, and everyone in the crowd, including Carlton does this dance. I bust out laughing, and then I realize that clearly I am out of the cool loop. I've heard this song before, but I didn't know it was this big. After the song ends I have a word with Carlton about cursing, and he tells me that he knows all of the curse words, but he doesn't say them. I hope he's telling the truth

2-4pm: The actual game starts, and Carlton and I converse about defenses, offensive plays, the speed of the running backs, catching the min footballs the cheerleaders are giving and out and much more that I can't possibly capture via a blog. He also tells me that school bores him a bit, and I ask him if he gets straight A's and he says no, so I tell him when he's bored and gets straight A's to come back to me, and then we can talk. We shake hands on the deal. Everyone now and then, I whisper into Carlton's ear, that he should talk to my mother to keep her interested, and he obliged. Such a great kid.

4:15: We leave the game, and on the strip from the field to the car, I see about 7 or 8 people I went to school with, and I ended up doing the very thing that I said in this here blog that I wouldn't. I shook hands, hugged and had convos about the past..I was pissed with myself for giving in, but Carlton turned out to be the perfect excuse to cut folks short. I just told everyone I had to get him back, and they didn't dare question me. Good times once again.

6:00pm: I took Carlton back home, and my mother and I headed home. It was during this ride home that I negotiated my way out of going to church the next day. My mother was PISSED, but frankly I didn't care. I had football to watch on Sunday.

Other weekend observations:

-It seems like most people I went to school with have put on weight, and not in a good way. If I ever needed motivation to get and stay in shape, this weekend was it. Some people have seemingly just said, fuck it, and let themselves go. Now there were a few people who looked damn good, but that was exception, not the norm.

-It is weird to see people in their 30s, who you saw at age 18. Some people like myself have kids, others had wives and multiple kids, and everyone just looked mature and confident. That's a far cry from the wide eyed and confused look we all had has college students. I sometimes make fun of my college years, but for one day, I was proud of what I had accomplished, and the people I had met along the way

-I desperately need to get my custody of my son. Enough said.

-College women don't look like they did when I was in school. They looked VERY mature. There was T&A everywhere, and I know my son caught me looking every now and then. Things have truly changed.

So that's my weekend in a nutshell, I know I'm leaving things out, but I simply cannot recall it all. And now, for nostalgia's sake, here is the FIRST song I heard when I set foot on Hampton Unversity's campus back in 1992. You Remind Me.

Friday, October 27, 2006

As I stepped off of the train today, and a bird dropped its precious droppings on me. Luckily for me, it only grazed the right side of my jeans and the tip of my shoes, but still..I was actually feeling pretty good up until that point. Then that happened, and my mojo momentum was broken for a bit. In case you haven't noticed, you really cannot be cool or confident with bird excrement on any part of your person; however, I tried my best to pull it off, although several people looked at my pants, then did a double take, and kept it moving. I just told myself that they were looking at my genitals which were hopefully more noticeable and intriguing than bird doo doo. And if you're scoring at home (or if you're alone) this is the second time in my life that I've gotten got by a bird. All of this makes me think this cartoon, I saw some years back.

The attack from the birds aside, this weekend promises to be a pretty eventful one. My brother told me yesterday, that there is a damn good chance that he and his wife will make me an uncle by the time this weekend is over, so that is very exciting. It is still a bit surreal that he is married, let alone expecting a child, but it is about to get extremely real for all of us. And on Saturday, my son, my mother and I are going to attend the Hampton Homecoming Football game. My son has been talking about this game for two weeks, and I must admit I'm a bit excited too. Although I am NOT looking forward to the bullshit small talk I'll have to engage in at least 30 times..its not that I'm a mean, heartless man, its just that I don't have the patience for small talk. Yes I look better than I did in college, no I don't keep it touch with anyone(ok that's a lie), yes you can have my number even though you'll NEVER call, and yes you can give me a hug so I can feel your breasts pressed against my chest, and yes you can shake the hell out of my hand and give me a half hug(for the fellas of course). Of course my son will be with me, so I can't let him see my crotchety side. If all goes well, my son will be steal the spotlight taking the pressure off me.

And the part of my weekend that I am dreading the most is my attendance in church this Sunday with my mother. At least three time a year, I go to church with her, and every time I dread it. First off, my mother likes to go to the 7:30 am service, which is absolutely insane. I have to get up earlier for that, than I do for work. And then I have to listen to a variety of prayers..the welcome prayer, the pre-song prayer, the pre and post announcement prayer and song, the pre and post offering prayer and song. By this time, I'm all prayed out, although I can dig the songs. And then, one of the deacons, says the final prayer before the main pastor comes out and delivers the sermon. Everytime I go, the same deacon prays, and my brother and I call him, "Mr Father God". This dude starts and ends every sentence in his prayer with Father God, and it amazes me that more people don't laugh in his face. During his prayer, I"ll open my eyes to see if anyone is laughing, and of course no one but me is..He's like a rapper who runs out of rhymes, so he attempts to rhyme using the same word over and over. It baffles me that he's able to get away with this. Anyway, after the sermon, my mother then shows me off like I'm on the red carpet before the Oscars. Everyone has to hear my 5 minute mini-bio, everyone wants me to meet their daughter, and everyone answers my "how are you" question with "I'm blessed" or "God is good", to which I respond that's great. I'm clearly a fish out of water, but at least now I can sit thru it, knowing that a fantastic blog entry will follow it.

And now, to conclude my blog, I will post this song by Leaders of the New School from 1991.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Yesterday my boy Cliff called me to say that he was in town, and he asked me what I was doing later on in the evening. I told him that I was going home to cook, and he was welcome to come through if he wanted..and then there was an awkward pause, and I realized that my statement was about an 11 on the 1 to 10 gay scale. I quickly followed that up with a maybe not, and the conversation quickly fizzled. Needless to say, Cliff never came by, but it got me thinking about the limits of a male friendship. Last week was my boy Kevin's birthday, and even that had to be handled in a delicate manner. I sent him a message via myspace, and I said happy birthday man, and then I suggested he drink a shot of Johnnie Walker to celebrate. And his response was "yeah.". Now let's examine that further. There was no way in hell, I would just call him and say happy birthday Kevin..because again that is borderline ghey..so I replaced his name with "man", which is legal under Man Law. Immediately after that, I suggested that Kevin get a shot of Johnnie Walker, which if you've ever tasted it, you know that clearly it is a manly thing to drink. Not saying that women can't drink it, but you get my drift I hope. So my birthday wish was successfully wrapped in testosterone, as was Kevin's minimalist response of "yeah". A thank you would not have been in appropriate. The "yeah" says I hear you man and thanks, but I'm not trying to hug you or anything because you remembered my day of birth.

Men also don't exchange gifts on birthdays or holidays..the most we may do is go out for drinks, or go to a game, or a trip to Brazil or Vegas. But there's no exchanging sweaters or anything like that..of course this rule doesn't apply to family members. Other things men don't do:

1)Go to the movies together
2)Go the grocery store together
3)Ride together in a two seat convertible
4)Cook together in the same kitchen
5)Say I miss hanging out with you man, when are we going to hang out
6)Stand next to each other at urinals
7)Go to Brian McKnight concerts

Women that I talk to say that men are ridiculously homophobic with one another, and that we need to work on expressing our feelings. That may be true, but what man wants to be the first to make that change happen? Who is willing to be the Rosa Parks of that movement? I sure as hell won't, and neither will anyone I know. Plus women do all kinds of things that cross the straight/gay line. They get naked around one another, they say stuff like "I miss you" to their friends, and I swear 1 out of every 8 women I know has had some borderline lesbian experience, and they mention it like its not a big deal. I've never caught the eye of my boy during a game or while we're out drinking, and said man let me hit that one time, and then we can act like it never happened. It's not bloody likely. Women are my only lovers of choice.

If I see one more article like this where someone is bitching about the state of rap music, I am going to start mushing the authors on sight. Everyone is bitching about how hip hop is dead, and there's no more quality music, and that's simply bullshit. The REAL problem is that people who grew up on hip hop, are getting older and their tastes are changing. The artists they grew up on are getting older and more extinct, and they don't care for the younger generation. That kind of thing is cyclical though. And that being said, there are still rap groups that cater to an older crowd: The Roots, Common, Jay-Z(to some degree), Rakim, etc..Yes they are few and far between, but that doesn't mean hip hop is changing, it just means folks are getting older. The woman who wrote that article, just turned on the radio, heard substandard rap music, and then made a generalization. Rap music that is played on the radio is not at all representative of the music as a whole. And if my son was in the car with me (and he has been), I'd play rap music that we could proudly listen to together, not that radio bullshit. I could write an entire essay on this, and I think I just might do that.

And now, some PM Dawn

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

I need someone to explain to me the historical importance, of having the national anthem and/or God Bless America being sung at American sporting events. It seems a bit redundant if you ask me. At the Olympics, or at any international competition, it certainly makes sense. In that forum, each country is "representing", so a minute of patriotism is encouraged, and for some athletes downright nostalgic I guess. But if I'm watching a baseball game in St Louis, Missouri(pronounced Mizzura), I have not a clue in the world, why I have to watch someone singing God Bless America. I realize that by doing this, I am subjecting myself to the keepers of the Patriot Act, but its how I feel regardless. I remember when I was in high school, and we had to stand for the playing of the national anthem, I used to think about everything but the words..and this was during the Persian Gulf War, so I guess I was doubly wrong. The only thing I DO remember is yelling out "Ohhh", when it got to the line, "O'er the land of the free". Perhaps I have it all wrong here, which is why I really need someone to explain to me the importance of this..and why sporting events? We don't say the national anthem before presidential debates..or before movies, or the Grammys, so why have sports been singled out?

I am again in need of dream interpretation, but this time it is not of the sexual variety. I had a dream that I was playing flag football with all of the guys who work in the barber shop I frequent. I remember I made some good plays here and there, but nothing too spectacular. When the game was over, we all walked away, but as I was walking up the hill(towards what, I do not know), I realized that I didn't have my cell phone. I returned to the field, but everyone was gone, and my cell phone was nowhere to be found. I had no reason to believe anyone had stolen it, but I combed the grass looking for it, and I never did. Perhaps this was another case of the Burger King bandit terrorizing me, but I doubt it. I have no clue what this dream means though.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually agree with Rush Limbaugh, who is outraged that Michael J. Fox is doing ads without taking his medication for Parkinson's disease. I have no doubt that Mr. Fox suffers from the disease, because I saw him when he testified before the Senate, and he looked bad without his medication then. Back then he was testifying to persuade the powers that be to dedicated more time and effort towards stem cell research. However, with this most recent ad, Mr. Fox appeared in an ad for Democratic Senate candidate, Ben Cardin. In this ad, Mr. Fox attempts to convince YOU the voter, that by voting for Ben, stem cell research will improve. While that may be true, you and I both know, that when watching a shifty, off-meds Michael J. Fox(Alex P. Keaton to you older people), your heart strings will be plucked and strummed like Jimi Hendrix was playing them. Maybe Fox didn't know what these spots would be used for when he recorded them, and maybe I'm underestimating how down and dirty political ads can be; or maybe this is Ben Cardin's response to Mike Tyson saying he would support Michael Steele(Cardin's Republican opponent). Whatever it is, I don't like it, and I think its manipulative. I also vow never to agree with Rush again.

I need to get some ass very soon, otherwise these blogs will turn into a written version of the McLaughlin Group Home Report.. Byye Bye!

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

If there was any doubt as to weather(look, a play on words) fall is here, it was definitely removed this morning. The Hawk(aka the wind for those vernacularly-challenged folk) jumped on my entire back, and stayed with me until I walked into my building. And once again, I am ill-prepared for this weather. I don't have a scarf, gloves or a winter coat. I'm sure if I search hard enough, I can find my scarf and gloves in my apt, but I know I don't have a winter coat. Last year's winter coat had seen 5 winters, and so I got rid of it back in March, thinking that sometime between then, and the NEXT cold month, I would make that purchase. But of course, me being the MENSA candidate that I am, I kept thinking that my old jacket was just in the back of my closet, and not the garbage. So now I have to buy a coat during a time period, when they are sure to jack the prices up. There are times when I swear I need a personal assistant man. There have been times when I've had women I was interested in double as personal assistants, but surprise, surprise, they never stick around. I do have someone who I know will be around no matter what, and perhaps I should ask her. It's not that I'm not capable of taking care of myself, it's just that I am not always on top of all facets of my life the way I need to be. I'm sure I'm not the only one who goes through that.

I watched the New York Giants spank the Dallas Cowboys last night during Monday Night Football, and the aside from the game the announcers focused on two main people: Terrell Owens' and his bitch ass(more vernacular), and Tiki Barber. I know Tiki won't read this here blog, but I want to congratulate him for being the anti-athlete. He announced last week that he is going to retire from football, in the prime of his career to pursue a career in journalism. Now when you first read that, you might think, what else is new..ex-athletes have basically littered the sports television and radio landscape, sometimes with little to no success. But Tiki already has a non-sports related journalism role on a show entitled Fox and Friends, and he also hosts his own show on Sirius radio, where he's interviewed John McCain and Bin Laden's mistress of all people. So this man is a rarity in sports: He's a top athlete, but sports is merely one stop in his journey, it isn't the only thing he has going. I'm not saying anything is wrong with athletes who milk their sport until they are carried off the field, then sit in the booth and point out the obvious because no one has the guts to tell them they suck. But I appreciate an athlete who bucks the trend..particularly a black athlete. So congrats Tiki.

Last week, a friend of mine told me that she thought Jay-Z was a sellout for doing Budweiser commercials. She said that it was much more admirable, when he was doing commercials for HP, because that was atypical of what rappers generally do, and he was basically a role model as a result. To her, the Bud commercials represented him taking a step back. I disagreed with her at the time, because not everyone really has to be a role model. There are some public figures who's job it is to make lots of money, and then flaunt it in every way imaginable. But last night during the football game, I noticed that in a 2 minute span they aired that Jay-Z Bud commercial, and then an HP commercial that featured Shaun White, who is a professional snowboarder/skateboarder. So just that quick, Jay-Z's atypical commercial has been bumped for the more conventional beer spot, and a lesser known figure now occupies the spot he could have had. This may sound like gibberish and nitpicking, but I still think that influential people should really give some thought about how they are perceived in the endorsment world, especially a rapper. This is one of my few soapbox moments. I"m not really good at them.

And now to make up for mini-criticism, here's one of my favorite Jay-Z songs: Hovi Baby .
And as an added bonus, here's the song he sampled in Hovi Baby: Diggin On You by TLC.

Monday, October 23, 2006

I had a pretty uneventful weekend, and from a distance one might very well think that I was depressed or something, but that wasn't at all the case. I just felt like laying low. Part of it was I just didn't have money to spend, part of it was the fact that there were just so many sporting events on TV, and part of it was I got my Scrubs DVD via Netflix, and I was looking forward to watching them. I highly recommend that everyone take at least one weekend to just be still, and reflect, while watching sports and DVDs. I had some very interesting phone conversations, I thought of a few ideas for my book, and I ate some damn good food, without doing much of a workout (I'm paying for that this morning). At this rate, the excitement level in my blog, is going to keep getting lower and lower. I prefer it this way though..at least for now.

Yesterday, prior to my all day football watching extravaganza, I was watching, "The Fly" for the first time, despite the fact that it came out 20 years ago. Watching movies from the mid 80s can be a humorous experience sometimes. The outfits, the cars, the outdated graphics, and the corny dialogue are sometimes difficult to navigate through. But through all of that, one thing did leave an impression, and that's the love the main female character had for the main male character, despite the fact that he was horribly disfigured and turning into a giant insect. That woman truly embodied the phrase stand by your man, and it got me to thinking. If I was seriously dating a woman, and I really loved her, and then she became ill or disfigured(i'm going to assume she wouldn't turn into a fly), how would I react? The knee-jerk reaction is to say I'd stay with her no matter what, but how I can't say that with any degree of certainty. Honestly, I may get tired of taking care of someone; or maybe them being in that state, would expose how shallow my feelings for them really are; or maybe, I'd shed my initial immature feelings, and step up. I have no clue, but it is definitely something to think about.

Two more Monday morning observations: 1) I have no idea why there is a need to sell roses on the street at 7am, and frankly I'd like to see the guy or girl who buys roses that early. This gentleman is out on the street every day at 7am selling roses, and I am quite sure he doesn't' make any money until around 4 or 5pm when people get off work. 2) There is a homeless man outside of my building, who has gotten so lazy, that he no longer makes eye contact with potential givers. He just walks down the street with his cup out. On Friday, he was eating a Subway sandwich that someone(maybe it was Jared) had given to him, and he held the "money cup" out with his free hand, without even looking up. This was a clear violation of the homeless/homeless giver relationship, and I'm not even being funny here. This does sound a tad mean though.

Poor Donovan McNabb.

Friday, October 20, 2006

I believe in the power of positive thinking, and I also believe that you can definitely speak good or bad things into existence if you really put your mind to it. So, I realize that once I say what I'm getting ready to say, I could be wishing bad things to happen to me, but I"ll take my chances. I just have the feeling that today will not be a good day for numerous reasons. I'm hoping that by addressing these things early in my day, that I'll be able to somehow salvage a great day.
First and foremost, when I ran on the track this morning, I was the ONLY one there. It was 5:30 am, it was cool and it was raining, so I guess that scared all the runners as well as the senior citizen power walk cult away. But since the court is well-lit, I don't really stress it, so I begin my run. During my second lap, I notice a shoe in the lane that I'm running in. Now I am quite sure that I did NOT see that shoe in my lane during the first lap, so instantly I start looking around. I think maybe some kids are playing a joke on me, but then I said, what kid would be up at 5:30 in the morning, just to terrorize someone on the track? Not bloody likely(read that phrase in an English accent). So then I start looking behind me for the Burger King mascot, because this seems like something he would do. Needless to say, I couldn't figure out where the damn shoe came from, and I just ran my last two laps at warp speed and got the hell out.

The second reason I think a bad day forthcometh, is that I forgot my lunch. A lot of love and time goes into my lunch when I make it, and I just left that shit in the fridge, along with my oatmeal. I pride myself on the money I save bringing breakfast and lunch everyday, while my co-workers spend $20 daily on food that will eventually have them looking like Rosie O'Donnell, and that is simply unacceptable. But now I can either act like I'm fasting, or I'll have to join them. And the last reason this day sucks already, is that I got rained on. I can't find my umbrella, so I was wet, my shirt is wrinkled, and I just felt like hot garbage on a stick. So there you have it.

While I'm writing this, it occurs to me that this particular blog entry is incredibly boring, but hey such is my life thus far this morning.

One more thing, this morning one of my co-workers is showing a WHOLE lot of cleavage. I mean we're talking Aretha Franklin levels here, although this woman here at my job isn't nearly that big. She came in here this morning to request something from me, and I tried to keep my eyes on her eyes. I mean I tried very hard, but they kept veering off to her chest. She played along with me though, and she acted she didn't see me looking 150 times. But I wonder..1)why would you have all that out at work 2)when you KNOW that you have cleavage out all over the place, do you get offended when men look more than once? or is it just staring? It baffles me man..if its out I'm looking, and I could care less if you get mad. There is no male equivalent. Guys don't walk around with half of their genitalia out..at least straight ones don't. And if we did women would look..then again guys probably wouldn't mind, but that's not the point here. I could see if today was some type of formal event, but its not. Its casual Friday, so why all the breast?

In honor of the lonely track run this morning, I shall conclude today's unfocused blog entry with a song by Don Henley entitled, The Boys of Summer.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

During my run this morning(I hadn't run since LAST Thursday morning by the way), John Coltrane's, My Favorite Things was in my head the entire time. That song always hold special significance to me, because that was the FIRST jazz song my father exposed me too. That was also the first jazz song I learned how to play on the trumpet. I can remember from the ages of 9 to about 16, my father would never miss out on an opportunity to take my brother and I to a jazz concert. He'd tell us to watch how the drummer kept everyone on time, or to watch how the pianist, and the bassist would watch each other for cues and chord changes. He also taught us to clap after the solos of each band member. My brother and I would always been the only kids in the room, and my family would always be one of the few black families in the venue. For some reason, white people seemed(and still do to this day) to appreciate jazz musicians more, despite the fact that so many of these musicians are black. Some of my black brothers and sisters prefer to listen to that bullshit that is flooding the radio..but I digress. My point is that I'm always appreciative that my father actually took the time to introduce me to jazz, and hopefully I can keep that tradition alive. And just for clarification, when I say jazz, I mean artists like Branford Marsalis, Miles Davis, Wayne Shorter and Roy Hargrove. NOT, that smooth jazz bullshit that artists like Boney James, Najee and Kenny G play. I understand they have to make a living like everyone else, but that music is hot garbage. That's for 40 and over men who are trying to woo women in their bedroom.

I saw this story yesterday, about a Massachusetts school placing a ban on kids playing tag, and I just kind of shook my head. As a journalist said yesterday, kids are fat enough as it is, so any little thing that could possibly curtail their physical activity level is not a good move. All that does is place more stress on teachers, because their kids will be high strung and restless. The rationale for this was that tag is dangerous, because kids can get hurt and the school will be liable. Considering the number of fatal incidents that have occurred at schools over the past 10 years or so, a little tag-related injury seems small. But then I thought a bit deeper(as i'm prone to do every now and then), I thought about how pointless tag was in the first place. Tag is one of those games, where there is no winner at all. You can just keep going and going, and the only thing that stops tag from continuing is the end of recess, or fatigue. And I thought that this is a good analogy for the war(s) this country finds itself in. There's no measure of victory at all, we just keep running around, except in this case, we can't find anyone to tag, so we just stay "it". We get tired, we suffer casualties, we reload, but ultimately victory is nowhere to be found. That seemed so much more lucid in my head, than it did in writing, but I'm sticking with it now.

Thank you for those of you who sent recipes. I need more though. And now, in honor of my mini jazz tribute in the above paragraph, here is Giant Steps by John Coltrane. The beauty of this song, is the fact that Coltrane changes chords on the fly at least 5 or 6 times, and if you ever played music, you know that is difficult to do..add in the fact he's playing at lightning speed, it makes it that much more impressive.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

A friend of mine told me last night, that she doesn't like having discussions related to spirituality and God with me, because I am extremely cynical towards both, and that hurt me a bit. I DO have a certain degree of cynicism towards people's interpretations of the Bible and spirituality, but I'm trying to do a better job of keeping that under wraps. I hear people tell me all the time (my mother leads the charge) that I NEED to be in church, and until I set foot in there, I won't receive all the glory that the good Lord wants and expects me to receive. But I don't like church at all. I don't like getting up, I don't like being around all the people, and depending on how much money is in my wallet, I'm always tempted to "borrow" money from the offering plate. I do attend church occasionally when my mother asks, or when the guilt just overtakes me, but I've never gone consistently. So I think my cynicism lies with church itself..As I get older I wonder if God understands my shortcomings, and still gives me a pass because I do honor him thru fasts, prayers, and occasional bible study. Or I wonder if he's going to tap me on the shoulder and be like, "Rashad, my man, I'm going to need you to find a church and soon". One thing I DO know is that one's relationship with church, God and spirituality is a life-long struggle..and to those people who are further along than I am, be patient or kiss my ass, I'll get there eventually.

I let a long time friend of mine down yesterday, and I feel bad as a result. When you say you're going to do something, and you don't do it, there's always some degree of disappointment. But when you let down someone you've know for a long time(a parent, a friend, my son) the disappointment is magnified. I will make it right very soon, but until then it's just a bit uncomfortable. This is one of those situations I vow never to be in again.

So last night, I watched the VH-1 Hip Honors show, and I really wish I hadn't. I understand the need for hip hop to honored outside the standard award shows like the Grammys, but shows like the one I saw last night, always leave me disappointed. The people who perform never do the songs you really want to hear; artists choose to do a medley of their songs, instead of picking one really good song and performing it well, and I really could go on and on. But instead of being negative, I'll say that I enjoy seeing my favorite rapper of all time: Rakim. Sure he looked a little older, and his breath control wasn't quite as good as it used to be, but it was still good to see him on stage being honored. Rappers don't tend to age well musically, it seems like he has. The rest of the show was just straight garbage.

I need some new recipe ideas man, I'm tired of eating the same thing over and over. Someone send me some please.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Imagine having the worst work day of your life on a Monday. You go to work and your computer won't start, then once it does start, you have countless emails that require you to both respond and react; everyone comes in your office to ask how your weekend was, and you have no idea how to explain that you basically sat on your ass; you lose 3 or 4 crucial documents, your boss yells at you as a result, you drop your lunch on a woman's cleavage, and so now her blouse is see thru. And to top it all off, when you are called upon to explain your projects in a meeting, you draw a blank and basically choke. Now after enduring that big bag of wrong, imagine having to go in front of the national media, and explain what the hell happened. That's what my main man Dennis Green, had to endure last night after his Arizona Cardinals blew a 20-0 lead last night, and lost to the Chicago Bears in Monday Night Football, 24-23.

It's not like Dennis could have skipped the press conference last night, because the NFL mandates that all coaches speak to the media after the game, or they will get fined. But I know it must be hard to explain to a bunch of unsympathetic media, who may or may not have even played the game of football, why you choked. And on top of that, often times you have to censor your language, which makes like even more difficult. It almost seems unfair, but the rule was put in place to help the sports writers who would have skimpy articles without quotes from players and coaches, and as an aspiring writer, I can certainly understand that. But as a person with a bad temper, I can also understand wanting to hit each and every one of the sportswriters with a Louisville Slugger. One of my favorite sports conferences ever, was given by NBA player, Rasheed Wallace. He had just been fined for skipping a press conference, so after his next game, he sat down and answered every question by saying, "It was a great game, both teams played hard my man". For 15 straight minutes, he answered every question like that, and then got up and said "Peace!". The humor of this cannot be captured via a blog, and frankly I don't know why I even tried. I'm sure youtube or something has a link or something.

Every morning while I'm trying to type my blog, there is this woman who interrupts me like clockwork. She basically fulfills the black woman at a government job stereotype, and I hate to use that expression, but dammit the shoe fits. She's loud, she bitches about what someone isn't doing for her, she's constantly saying that she's going to leave and get another job, yet when her supervisors come around, she gets quiet and starts to dance. And then I have to hear about her home life, her Washington Redskins(when she clearly doesn't know jack about sports), and it is just annoying. I say this because as I type this, she is talking to me, and I keep looking up periodically to say "really?", "word?", and my favorite, "I told you that bitch crazy". Ok I stole that last one from Chris Rock, but you get the point.

Monday, October 16, 2006

I have nothing but good news to report, after spending some time with Carlton this weekend. When I first saw him, he tried to pull his usual "I see Daddy, but I don't really see him" routine, and then he walked up to me and hugged me. When he was younger, he would run up to me, but he's developed some of that reserved behavior that his father has. So now he just strolled up to me, but he still hugged me tight. I met the family that he is currently staying with, and that seem like nice people..too bad I'm taking Carlton away from them shortly..Anyway, we left from there and went to the Hampton/Norfolk State game. Carlton and I were stuck in traffic for about 45 minutes, which allowed us to have a very interesting conversation. He grilled me about living in DC, my job, my family, and I returned the favor by asking him about Arizona, his current situation, school, etc. And then he shocked me with his knowledge of college football. He was talking to me about #1 ranked Ohio State, who should be ranked #2, his favorite players and everything. I don't know why I"m shocked that a son of mine would talk sports, but it was the depth of his knowledge that shocked me. It was like talking to a child prodigy. I can't explain how nice it is to have an actual conversation with my son now that he's 9. I had to endure those frustrating years, when he wasn't quite old enough to sustain a conversation, and I had to try to figure out what he was thinking, like he was Lassie or something. Those days are gone.

Once we arrived at the game, young Carlton was suffering from sensory overload. This was his FIRST football game, let alone, first black college football game. People were cursing, talking trash to one another, the men had on obscene amount of cologne, the women had on very little obscene clothing, and everyone was just loud. I saw lots of people I went to school with, and despite my attempts to act like I didn't see them, they found me, and bored me with small talk and b.s conversation. Normally, I would humor them, but I was spending time with my son, and I wasn't up to it. Carlton took pictures, he told me what plays Hampton should run, and it was just an overall good time. Every father should have the opportunity to take their son to the game, because it is truly a bonding experience. At one point, of the cheerleaders was bent over, and my son said Daddy, you can see her underwear. I looked over, and said why yes...yes you can Carlton, and then we both looked at the nice ass in the underwear for a minute. I hope this means he doesn't have the gay...not that there's anything wrong with that. Carlton also got the chance to meet Senator George Allen, who was at the game trying to trick all the Negroes at the HBCU campus into voting for him in the upcoming election. Some people prefer black churches, Senator Allen stepped up his game and went to a black college football game. Anyway, he shook Carlton's hand, then shook mine. It was my duty to explain who he was to Carlton, without the personal commentary, which was very difficult.

Okay,I'm not going to recap the entire visit, but the point is, we had lots of fun, and I told him that I'd be back next weekend. And I can't lie, I definitely have this glow about me today, that will hopefully last for a long time. When I get the pictures developed, I"ll link them on here. Oh, and Carlton did notice my beard, which made me smile.

And for the latest installment of "I'm getting old". When I returned to Hampton's campus, I was amazed at how young some of the students looked. But I was REALLY thrown off by all the cell phones. Now I know cell phones are a staple of society now, but just 14 years ago, when I first stepped on campus, NOBODY had a cell phone at all. So after football games, we couldn't call around to see what was going on, we had to physically walk around campus to stumble upon parties. Come to think of it, back in '92, we barely even had computer, and there definitely no laptops. I know I shouldn't act like I'm 50 or something, but that really did make me feel like a senior citizen.

Anyway, in honor of 1992, my freshman year of college, here is Brian McKnight

Friday, October 13, 2006

There are few things in life more frustrating than getting paid, only to watch your money be snatched away by important financial obligations that have accumulated since your last pay day. On days like this, you realize that you have a few options: 1)you can vow to be a bit smarter and get help 2)you can devise a plan to sell an impressive array of drugs 3)get a part-time job 4)get a higher paying job. Given my current situation, option #1 is the best way to go, but I am about to organize a task force to see if we can get option #2 on and cracking. I'm actually making my situation out to be a lot worse than it really is, but I like to play those games with myself as motivation to be more financially responsible.

I saw the movie Boys of Baraka last night, and I was completely unimpressed. The documentary was way too short, and I didn't feel like it really told a good story at all. Of course much of my frustration surrounding this film, probably stemmed from my personal feelings regarding the kids lack of educational development. These kids were getting little support at home, and even less support from the Baltimore School systems, so there was little to no motivation to succeed. From my own brief teaching experience, I should have known this was still a problem, but this documentary just brought all those feelings back. And, in what I found to be an insulting move, the directors of this documentary, felt the need to have captions at the bottom of the screen, despite the fact that these young black boys were speaking English. It gets no more insulting than that..to me at least. One of the reasons my favorite documentary to this day is Hoop Dreams, is that they painted a complete picture. You were able to see both good and bad qualities of the two main characters, and the story was long enough for you to see a complete picture. Boys of Baraka felt thrown together, and I definitely think more could have been done. Whoever heard of 90 minute documentary anyway?

I finally get to see my son tomorrow, but I know better than to hype it up again. I'll be damned if I look like a fool again. The tentative plan is for us to attend the Hampton University/Norfolk State football game, and he actually sounded excited about it. That's all I'll say about that for now. Hopefully I'll have good times to report on Monday.

Oh, and its about 40 degrees out right now, and the weather is making feel like I need some. In order, I would like: 1)Some caramel apple cider from Starbucks 2)15 straight minutes of oral sex from Muff(an inside joke) 3)a deep massage from Nia Long and Scarlett Johansson, and 4)a striptease from Mya. I hate to talk about these types of things right after I mention visiting my son, but such is life my friends.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

This is going to come off as very insensitive, but I think I am safe within the confines of this here blog. ESPN really pissed me off last night with all of that coverage on Cory Lidle's tragic flight into an NYC building. I can understand that this is one of the few times when major news and sports intersect, and I can certainly understand to some degree that Cory played for the Yankees which increases the story tenfold. But I did NOT need to see 5 straight hours of coverage on this man, I mean damn enough is enough. First of all, ESPN and other news outlets went public with this story BEFORE Cory's family was notified which is a major no-no. Secondly, there were other people that died in this crash, and their names weren't known yet, and while that isnt a big deal, it still comes off as insensitive. And lastly..who the hell is Cory Lidle? He was an average pitcher at best, whose claim to fame was getting traded to the Yankees just a short time ago. I'm not saying that ESPN shouldn't cover his death, because it IS news-worthy. This was a plane crash in NYC, and given that we are month removed from the 5 year 9/11 anniversary, it definitely would shake folks up. But even on the major news outlets, they discussed this story hourly and then kept it moving. Even if ESPN had talked about it once an hour, I could deal with that. But 5 straight hours? That's overdoing it a bit. There really is no way to say that without coming off as a jerk, but from a journalistic perspective, I think that was overkill. I don't have a segue here, so I'll just abruptly go into my normal blog subjects.

I got off my ass this morning, and did my 3 mile run and it was a struggle. They say towards the end of a long, grueling run, the monkey jumps on your back, and it becomes hard to finish. That monkey was on my back about 5 minutes into the run, but I didn't stop and I struggled through it. Part of my run involves me being on the main street, and I am WAY to vain to let the cars and bus stop people see me struggling. So on the main streets, I would pull it together and run with perfect form and speed, only to do the EXACT opposite once I hit the side streets. It is sad that my ego is that big, but oh well. I run a mile to the track, a mile around the track, and then I run that mile back home. While I was about to start my final lap around the track, this man about 40 years old starts running RIGHT next to me. Now mind you, he had just gotten out of his car, stretched and jumped on the track; I was two miles deep at this time, and in no mood to race, plus I was tired. But I smoked his ass on the last lap, and then as I ran up the stairs and back home, he had the nerve to yell out, "You're done already?". I wanted to give him a big bowl of these, but I just gave him the thumbs up and kept it moving.

Oh, while I was running at this high school, I saw a sign that said class of 2010, and at that point, my status as an old man was cemented. 2010? When I was nine years old, there was movie out called 2010, which was a follow up to Stanley Kubrick's classic 2001. Back then 2001 seemed like some mystical place that was far off..and now I'm 31 years old seeing people pump up the class of 2010, and it makes me feel old man.

And finally I had a sex dream last night. As I mentioned before, in my 31 years, I can count my sex dreams on ONE hand, but last night's dream pushed it to two hands. I had a dream that I was in the living room of a friend of mine watching TV. She came up, swirled her tongue around and then in my ear. Then, she took my hand and asked me to put my finger in her (yeah this is TMI, but this is my blog, kiss my ass), and I did so ever so gently, then I pulled it out, then I woke up. I dont know why I had this dream, and I definitely have no clue why it was this particular person, but I ain't dwelling on it. Dreams like that happen ever so often I guess. That doesn't even really count as a sex dream though does it? who knows.

And now, a selection by Mr. Shakur.

I was able to find this story about Mr. Lidle. Very good: http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/columns/story?columnist=schwarz_alan&id=2622245

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

I miss playing competitive sports man..I miss it in the worst way. I was briefly in a co-ed flag football league, but I dropped out for numerous reasons, and I thought playing basketball with a group of guys every Sunday morning would satisfy my competitive jones. But sadly is has not. It has been difficult to get everyone to come out every Sunday morning. Between girlfriends, hangovers, church, and preparation for the NFL, not everyone always wants to sacrifice their Sunday mornings for 2 hours of competitive basketball. I can't say I was a high school sports star, but I did run track, cross country and play basketball, and those are memories I STILL carry with me. We had practices, scrimmages, games and meets at least twice a week, and even gym class provided me with some degree of competition. Now? I have to do things like go to a batting cage, or play ball with high school kids(guaranteed to hurt any 30+ man's feelings) or shoot balled up pieces of paper in the garbage can, and hope someone notices my impeccable form as it goes in. I may have to rejoin that flag football team in the spring.

My brother (who has yet to leave a comment on this blog in the three months I've been writing, despite the fact that I've given him MUCH love on here), gave me an excellent book idea yesterday. He suggested that I spend some time writing about what it was like growing up in black middle class household. There are NUMEROUS issues to tackle there: racism in suburban schools from both white AND black teachers and students; Jack and Jill, the Links, and other black elite groups allegedly designed to help suburban Negroes, the feeling of detachment from parents who grew up poor, worked hard, and now have to deal with affluence..that subject is a gold mine. I personally can remember watching A Different World and School Daze, when I was in high school, and thinking to myself, a black college is definitely where I need to be. Lots of suburban Negroes, who were tired of feeling singled out in mostly white high schools, thought HBCUs, would be the solution to all of the angst and frustration. And for some students I'm sure it was, although I can't say I was one of them. Anyway, I'm getting WAY ahead of myself..the point is there is a good book to be written on this subject, and I just may do this.

I am curious to know what the people I know, as well as the people who may read this here blog, think about sex. A friend of mine told me last night, that people don't value sex anymore, and it is now treated as something to do, rather than something sacred. I ALWAYS treat sex as something sacred, which is why I try to so hard to make it damn good, once I'm fortunate enough to get me some. But I wonder if folks TRULY think that way, or are people jaded at this point. Questions like that always invoke passionate responses..especially from my fanatical Christian brothers and sisters(God bless all of y'all and you know who you are), but I really do want to know...)

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

This is my FAVORITE time of the year for so many reasons. The weather is getting a bit cooler, which means I can go to sleep with the window open, and get pneumonia in my sleep. I can also break out my fall line of clothes, which is way better than my spring and summer lines. It gets dark earlier, which means the bad ass kids outside my window will actually give me some peace and quiet once I do decided to sleep. And all of the major sports actually intersect: Playoff baseball has jumped off, football is in its sixth week, and preseason basketball has just begun. I go home every night, knowing that there will ALWAYS be some type of sporting event for me to watch and write about, and that's a beautiful thing. I wish this time of year could last forever..I wish that sentence I just wrote didn't sound like a corny Hallmark card.

I am really struggling to come up with a good subject matter for my book. If I write a sports-themed book, I would want to do a book about and/or with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. He's a fascinating man on and off the basketball court, and not enough has been written about his life. Of course, Kareem would have NO reason to work with a unknown author like myself, but I do believe I could pull it off. I'd focus on his playing career, the numerous books he's written, his love for jazz, and his unique relationship with Wilt Chamberlain. I also thought of writing a book about my experiences both good and bad with women, but I'd hate for that book to make it big, because then I'd be labeled as THAT kind of author. And when I say THAT, I mean the E. Lynn Harris, Michael Baisden, Tyler Perry type writer that is currently dominating pop culture. I semi-respect these guys for finding success, but their writing sucks..it is their subject matter that is juicy, thus the big sales. I fancy myself a good writer, so I don't want my big break coming via a book about me and my women..then again, if I did have success via a book like that, it could be my foot in the door, which would enable me to do something big..Quite the dilemma. I need to give this some serious thought. Do I sell out and go for sales and money, and then come back and write books that display my integrity and skill? Or do I write what's in my heart no matter what, and hope that my audience feels me enough to make me successful

This is an unfocused, scatterbrained blog entry, because I have so much on my mind right now: My son, grad school, my upcoming book, threesomes(yes threesomes), work, and lots of other things. When I have lots on my mind like that, it is difficult for me to reel it in, and write in a coherent fashion. I would however like to report that I have successfully grown a beard. I endured the itchy phase long enough to get a full-fledged beard. It may not last very long, but I can say that I did it.

I"m putting this entry out of its misery now

Sunday, October 08, 2006

My mom and I went to the Capital Book Fest on Saturday, and I swear it was an experience that changed my life. I enjoy writing this blog, because it has become an effective vehicle for me to both express my feelings, and to force myself to consistently write. But when I went to this festival, and saw all of the writers who had actually published their work, it made me want to step up my writing game to the next level(I sound like an athlete now). I am not arrogant by any means, but when I looked at some of the books these authors had gotten published, it made me realize that my book is long overdue. These authors had worked hard to get their books published I'm sure, but I wasn't impressed at the subject matter and I damn sure wasn't moved by the quality of writing. I realize I sound like a snob, but hey, I am competitive by nature and these were my thoughts. I need to put out a book ASAP. I'm thinking of blogging for a few more months, and then I'm going to put out a book of all my entries. And then after that, I am going to release another book. The subject matter? I have no clue, but I'm doing it. The world has been deprived of my writing for far too long. My umi said shine the light on the world..shine the light for the world to see...

I saw my ex at this book festival, and she was promoting her book Transitions: Boy Krazy, and I must admit she looked damn good. She was sexy, she looked happy promoting her book, and her mother and niece were by her side. My mother and I stopped by her booth, bought two books and wished her luck, and it felt good. Over the past 3 years, I helped her with that book a bit, but for the most part, she was the one struggling and slaving over that book, so to see her finally reap the benefits was very rewarding. I still love her and want the best. And as I said in another blog entry, she remains the only woman I've ever really been head over heels in love over.

My beloved Eagles whupped up on Terrell Owens and the Dallas Cowboys, and I am ecstatic. Donovan McNabb proved to TO, and the world, that he is not a choke artist, and he and the Eagles are ready for prime time. It may be time to fire up the Eagles Super Bowl bandwagon..feel free to jump on.

I woke up early Sunday morning to the sound of my neighbors having sex. And it wasn't just regular sex, it was that urgent, middle of the night, I gots to have you right now sex that was happening. They were talking trash to one another, I heard ass slapping, and I heard some of those sex noises that really made me jealous. I don't know what it is about hearing people having sex that is arousing, but I have no shame in admitting I was intrigued.. Of course, later on that day, I saw those same neighbors leaving their apt, and I was thoroughly disgusted once I put a face with the noises I had heard earlier. But still..if you can hear your neighbors having sex some time in the future..take some time to listen. It's highly erotic...

And now..I'm done

Friday, October 06, 2006

You ever have a song that is in your head when you wake up in the morning, and you just can't get it out? Well such a thing has happened to me this morning. Two days ago, I went out and bought the newest offering from Lupe Fiasco. Now recently, I've been very skeptical of the hip hop purchases I make. The last rap CD I bought was Game Theory by The Roots, and I still play that do death. As an older rap fan, I can certainly appreciate a group who focuses on good music and better lyrics, as opposed to talking about bouncin' and shootin' and killin' and bouncin'and shit(get down!). Lupe Fiasco(despite the non-sensical name) is a damn good cd, I recommend to any and everyone who was a hip hop fan between the years of '88 and '95. But I digress...I can't get that damn Kick, Push song out of my head. The song is about skateboarding, I've never done it, but it makes me want to run out and do my best Tony Hawk impersonation. Oh, and if you're counting at home, there are 4 hyperlinks in just the first paragraph. I'm coming out swinging today.

I wonder if women go through the kind of thing I went thru last night. I was chilling in my living room, watching the Mets and the Dodgers play, while sipping on vodka and Cranberry, and suddenly a fierce wave of sexual energy came over me. Initially I told myself to ignore it, but it gained more strength, and it went from a tropical storm to a full blown hurricane, so I tried to rectify the situation and moisturize my situation, but to no avail. But I was up until 1 am, thinking about every nasty sexual position I had ever done, and aspire to do. It was torture..like pulling your bottom lip all the way over your head in one swift stroke. I rarely hear women talk about their darker side like this..is it because they have it under control, or does this trait not exist in women? And no this isn't a rhetorical question. I really want to know.

I'd like to take this time to give a special shoutout to Terrell Owens publicist, Ms Kim Etheredge. I know I'm about a week late on this, but I want to commend you on the way you absolutely mishandled that press conference with your client last week. The way you appeared in front of the national media with NO makeup, no attempt to do or brush your hair, and no tact in answering the questions was just marvelous. I heard you tell the media to excuse your attitude and your appearance, because it had been a long night, but HEL-LO? you are a publicist, it is your job to be on point and jammin' on the one. You can't ask for a pass just because you've had a rough night, you aren't representing yourself, you are representing Terrell Owens. And as much as he tends to mess up by himself, you have to be the rock and have some semblance of stability. Instead, you look like a crazy, incompetent woman..so much so, that some folks are suspecting that you are only around because you are giving TO some trim..I wouldn't go that far, but you certainly didn't help your case. And to top it all off, you said TO had 25 million reason not to kill himself. The list of wealthy people who have killed themselves is quite lengthy Ms Etheredge, so when you say that we don't believe you. Plus that 25 million is not guaranteed money, TO can still shuck and jive his way out of it. So here's to you Ms. Etheredge, I'm sure your client base will grow exponentially as a result of your stellar performance.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

I finally spoke with my son Carlton last night, and things were relatively back to normal. He was his usual quiet self, and he gave me 5 strong minutes of conversation. Short, yet effective. I also found out he is in Hampton, VA, so I'll be going down to see him hopefully this weekend, and definitely next weekend too. I won't go into the other sordid details right now, the main point is I have contact once again. Good times indeed.

I spent much of my evening talking to family members and watching sports. And while watching sports, I once again noticed something, that I have quietly observed for over 15 years. Every athlete says the same shit when they are interviewed, with a couple of variations. Allow me to demonstrate:

Interviewer: So what were the keys to the victory today
Athlete: Well first off let me thank my lord and savior Jesus Christ, without him there would be nothing youknowwhati'msaying? Second, you know I just went out played my game, gave 156%, and stayed within the team concept

Interviewer: Individually, how were able to achieve so much success
Athlete: (Insert third person) always does his best youknowwhatimean? I love this game, and I come out every night and give my all, and I feel like when (third person again) is at his best nobody can stop (third person strikes again)

Interviewer: You beat a good team tonight, did you know that you all were that good?
Athlete: Well, you have to take your hat off to the other team, they fought, and gave 178% just like we did. But we were just able to take it to another level. God must have been on our side tonight(athlete pounds his chest and point to the sky)

Interviewer: So you have 3 tough games coming up in the next 3 weeks, how do you prepare?
Athlete: Well, you know we can only take it one game at a time, we're not really looking ahead. But we do feel like when we are on our game, can't nobody(the double negative is an absolute must) beat us.

Interviewer: Thank you
athlete: (puts his arm around the interviewer, looks into the camera) I want to shout out my moms, Boney T and Boney James, and (insert hometown) is definitely in the house.

So, next time you watch an interview listen for those things. Every athlete begins a sentence with the word "well", they must shout out God(curiously only the black athletes do this..with a few exceptions), and they must give some percentage of effort..the most popular one is 110%, but it varies. This is something that even you non-sports fans can appreciate.

Speaking of thanking God, I've also noticed that during the Grammys and other award shows, white artists never thank God or Jesus. Of course, the Christian Rock groups do, but aside from that you never see white artists shout out the Big man. Black artists spend about 45 minutes thanking God and kissing the platinum cross on their chest, after winning and award for a song full of curses. I'm not judging here, just observing of course. I wonder why that is????

And now, from Rashad's perversion files. There are few things in this world more delightful, than watching a girl with a nice ass, go up the escalator. Now I didn't want to see that this morning, but as I walked up, I was able to get a view of a couple women, and it was a beautiful thing. The firmness, each cheek bouncing softly, the firmness, and then once this person's ass reaches the top of the escalator, you can see plainly see how nice the ass is. I'm sure this works for women looking at men too, but I dont' have the gay, so I won't be discussing that here today. I just though I'd share.

I have a new attitude today(the above paragraph not withstanding), in light of my 5 minute power conversation with Carlton last night. The song matching my mood today is This Is It by Kenny Loggins.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Ok, I'm over the gloom and doom of the last few days. The legal wheels are in motion, and that's all I'll say about that right now. There's being emotional, and there's being downright annoying, and I think I crossed that line about 3 days ago. I'm back on the other side now.

It is extremely difficult to tell certain women how nice they look. First thing this morning, I saw this woman and told her how nice she looked, but when she said thank you she had a real funny look on her face. It really isn't my fault that she usually wears clothes that are two sizes too big and swallow her up. Today she was sporting her power suit, with a nice shirt underneath and she looked professional sexy(I stole that phrase from Mark Foley). In the past, I've told women that they look nice, and they immediately get defensive and start complaining about me not saying anything to them about their wardrobe on any other day. The cold harsh reality is that people only really look nice once a week, twice if they are really ambitious. After you work somewhere for awhile, you see someone's entire work repetoire, and that makes genuine compliments harder to come by. I don't make these rules, I simply observe them.

One thing I forgot to mention last week, was that I went to play basketball the night before I left for out of town. There was no one really on the court for me to play with, so I just wore myself out. But while I was out there playing ball, there were these group of kids who were ages 5-8. The boys were playing ball on the small court, and the girls were double dutching. At one point, this girl was jumping, and two of the boys starting yelling out, "Look at that big juicy ass, shake that ass girl", and at first I laughed..ok I laughed for a good five minutes, but I kept my back to them. But then these types of comments just kept going on and on, so I dribbled the ball to where they were and just kind of looked at them. I didn't say anything, I just started shooting at their court, and made my presence felt. They immediately stopped, and I went back to my court. Anytime they cursed or started making disrespectful comments, they would look my way and stop. Of course this did not work for the girls..they cursed at will regardless of my presence.

This had me thinking though..all it took to get these kids to be conscious of what's coming out of their mouth was a look and a stare from me. So what the hell is going on with their parents? Well I'll tell you...in a couple of instances, a child's parent would come up to the court to take their kid home, and I heard the following from the adults: "Get your ass in this car"...."I'm not going to take this shit", "Goddammit would you come on?". I couldn't make this up if I tried. Now I'm all for cursing, in fact I heavily endorse it, but all bets are off when kids are involved. In the past, I have slipped up and cursed in front of my son, but I quickly nipped it in the bud, explained what I said, and apologized. I also told him that if he ever repeated what I said, I'd gently throw him from a moving train. He understood. I dont understand the rationale of parents repeatedly cursing at their kids. I know my parents cursed, but they never did it to me. Of course there are some parents who think that you should not censor yourself in front of kids, because they will hear curses out in the real world anyway. Using that logic, you should also do heroin, run a prostitution ring, and get Charleston Heston and the NRA to sell guns to your child. That's faulty logic man.

I hate the Yankees with a passion. It is easy to be good every year, when you are operating on a larger salary cap than every other team in baseball. But I reserve my largest ball of hate for Derek Jeter. First off, I can't stand his haircut. Nobody rocks a fade like that anymore..when he first came in the league I gave him a pass, because it was 1996, and there were still some residual fade wearers. But it is now 2006, and that cut is not only outdated, it is downright offensive. And I know he's bi-racial, but that's no excuse. Tiger Woods has about 56 races in his blood, and he has a respectable haircut. Second, Derek Jeter ALWAYS gives politically correct interviews. He never slips up and curses, he never badmouths teammates, he never shows anger, he just answers questions, and then smiles as if to say, "nope you aren't going to catch me slipping". I don't like my athletes pristine clean like that. The reason Charles Barkley was such a good person to interview during his playing days, is that he spoke his mind all the time. Jeter needs to take notes..even if he lost his temper a few times, he'd get a pass because he's light-skinned, so he should go for it man. And of course the last reason I don't like Jeter, is that he's a good baseball player for the Yankees. Good players on good teams always annoy me. If he really wanted to impress me, he'd come play for the Washington Nationals..then he'd win me over.

It's nice to be writing normal again. I'm sure i'll be emotional again, but a brief reprieve never hurt anyone. And now, a selection from Maxwell entitled Seguranca(Love Security).

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

It is Tuesday morning, and I am sitting back at my desk at work. I'm dead tired, I know my clothes are a bit wrinkled, because I didn't feel like doing a steady ironing job, and I am desperately fighting off the urge to be cranky and unleash my wrath on anyone around me. I also made the mistake of telling people at work that I was going to see my son last week. I was excited, and who'd have thought that a week later, I wouldn't see him at all. I wish I could just send a memo to everyone, explaining that I didn't see my son, and I don't want to talk about why. But anyway, I did more than enough complaining over the past few days, so I'm going to let that shit go now. I'm taking the necessary steps to make things right, and that's really all I can do. Bitching and moaning, while absolutely necessary at times, simply will NOT help anything at this point. I will say one last thing though. Going thru difficult times like this provides a whole lot of clarity in terms of who your friends are and aren't; it also helps to determine who is important in your life, and who is expendable. That something that I never planned on happening, it just kind of did, and I have mixed feelings about that right now. But if you ever need a friend litmus test, a difficult situation is certainly a way to go about it.

I'm sure its just a bad coincidence, but three black baseball managers have been fired over the past few days: Dusty Baker of the Cubs, Felipe Alou of the Giants, and Frank Robinson of the Washington Nationals. Felipe and Frank are in their 70s, and although they both were still doing the most with substandard teams, their age will pretty much preclude them from getting another managerial position. But Dusty Baker definitely deserves another shot, since he has a well-deserved reputation as a players' coach. He just had the unlucky task of trying to rescue the Chicago Cubs, who now have the distinction of being the most cursed team in sports, since the Red Sox won the series two years back. Anyway, I know I'm supposed to look past race now, especially since baseball has made strides in that department. Still, I wonder if any of those now open positions, will be filled by qualified black candidates. Baseball isn't obligated to do that, but still, I'm very curious.

I'll admit it, I feel lost right about now. I could really use a few more days off to get my head right, but I dont have that luxury right now.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

I couldn't make this stuff up even if I tried. My son's stepfather (Michael) is currently in Germany, according to his commander. I don't know if he has my son with him, and I have no clue why I was not informed of this considering he KNEW I was coming out here. Michael's commander, who is here in Tucson, is working on getting in contact with him for me. I STILL have no clue where my son is, and at this point, I have to consider legal action. I'll be coming home in the morning. This trip hasn't been a complete waste, but its damn near. This is like a bad episode of Without A Trace. I'm frustrated, I'm treating the people who care about me badly because of it, and I can't find a proper outlet for my emotions. I had high hopes for this trip, and now nothing. The worse part is, I can think of about two or three reasons why Carlton's stepfather would choose not to tell me he was leaving the country, and they both go back to the mother. As I type this, I realize that this sounds like a bad episode of Maury. But this is neither a game nor a show. This is my life. Stuff like this makes me have little to no respect for fathers who choose not to raise their kids, or parents who pay little to no attention to the children who live with them. I'd die to have that opportunity, especially this weekend..or this past weekend now, because its gone.