Monday, November 30, 2009

I live in an area in called Dupont Circle and Washington D.C. and for those of you who aren't familiar with this area, let me just say its an eclectic area. For years the area has had a gay/lesbian stigma attached to it, which doesn't really bother me because a)the area is nice b)there are plenty of things to do and c)I live with my girlfriend. Still, on any given day or night, there are reminders of this stigma that cross my path, and this morning was one of those occasions.

I was walking by Starbucks, when I noticed a car pull up by the curb. In the driver's seat was a woman who looked to be about 60 years old, and in the passenger's seat was a woman who looked the same age. The driver put her hazard lights on, and then got out of the car, and the passenger stepped out of the car, opened the back door to get her briefcase, and the closed the door as well. Then I heard the driver tell the passenger to have a great day, and they hugged, which really didn't give me pause. But then they kissed. And when I say kiss, I don't mean just a peck on the lips or cheek. They kissed long, deep and with enough tongue to make this man jealous. I

It was at this point, that I actually walked by the lovebirds, and I didn't want to look like I was staring or shocked (I was) so I kept right on walking by them. As I did, I noticed the incredulous looks on the faces of the people walking towards the kissing lovers, and I knew that I wasn't crazy. As I said earlier, this area is no stranger to gay/lesbian activity, but even this was something new. You (meaning me) just don't see women this age get down like that very often. I'll admit that after I walked by the couple, I looked back at them a couple of times, and they were still kissing, but I also noticed that had added a little groping to the mix. I don't know about you, but seeing this level of passion in public before 8am is a bit much, but I couldn't look away. Finally, they stopped kissing, the passenger went into a building for work, and the driver jumped back in the car. Show over.

I hope I haven't displayed too much ignorance here, but dammit if you had seen this, you'd have done the same thing.

Friday, November 27, 2009

There's was nobody on the road, en route to work this morning. I passed by 34 Starbucks, and there weren't more than 4 people in each one. I may have passed 10 people total from when I left my house to when I walked into work. Then I peeked around the corner where Macy's is, and I saw a phalanx of people in and around the store taking full advantage of the biggest shopping day of the year. And where am I? At my f**king desk pretending to do work, on a day when everyone else called off work.

Three of my co-workers are off today, which is fine because I volunteered to work this day, so I could all the days before and after Christmas off. I may go out of town during that time, and I need that flexibility. Still, you never really know how stupid you'll feel getting up and coming into work the day after a holiday until you get here. All the things I said I was thankful for yesterday, have now come undone because I'm frustrated that I'm not in my bed drinking mimosas, watching Sportscenter, and laughing at those jackasses who had to go to work.

But yeah other than that I'm doing swell. I met a lot of people on my lady's side of the family yesterday, and it went way better than I thought it would except for two things. One, at our first destination, several female family members kept blocking my view of the Dallas/Oakland football game because of where they were sitting. I wanted to ask them to move, but to do would have been tremendously rude, so there were 5-10 minute stretches of the game I just completely missed. And second, my lady's grandmother has about 1000 creepy dolls strewn around her house. There are white dolls, black dolls, Native American dolls, a Lucille Ball doll, a Jackie O doll, and even an Urkel one. The only doll I actually enjoyed looking at was the gloved Michael Jackson one. You have no idea how badly I wanted to whip out my camera phone and capture the whole creepy scene, but that would have been rude. Next time though.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

I think it may be time to have THE talk again.

My son has had prepaid phone for about 2 years now, and most of the time he is pretty laid back with telling me he needs more minutes. I call him, I get a voice prompt letting me know he can't accept calls, I go online and put more money on, and then I call him and ask him why he didn't tell me. And his answer is always, "I meant to tell you Dad, but I forgot." Then I tell him that he can monitor his minutes as they get lower, and once they get down below five minutes he should tell me. He said ok which is child speak for "yeah whatever I'll forget as soon we hang up." I get and respect that.

But recently things have changed in the urgency department. First I get a call last week from my son asking me to help him setup voicemail. I just assumed all this time that he had voicemail, but clearly I was wrong. I interrupted the Wizards basketball game on television, walked him through the process for way too long, and boom the voicemail was setup and he cheerfully said thank you Daddy. I said thank you, and tried to back to watching the game.

Then on another occasion, I get a call (from a different phone) from Carlton, and he tells me that his phone is dead and he needs me to refill it. I tell him that I'll put more time on there as soon as I can..and two hours later he calls me and asks if I have done it (which he knows damn well I hadn't otherwise the phone would have worked). I started to ask him what the urgency was, and then it hit 13 year old son is having special feelings toward a young lady, and he wants to be accessible as possible. Up until now, the talks about women and girls have been all hypothetical, but it appears as if he is now officially in the "game". And what better person to assist him in this game, than me right? He has no clue what kind of ride(s) he's in for, but I can try my best to equip him with as much common sense as possible.

Monday, November 23, 2009

So this morning, I left directly from the pool and came to work, which meant I spent a little more time than usual in the locker room. I brought my soap, my deodorant, and my clothes, and I showered and dressed right there, which was not ideal, but I made it work. While I was getting a dressed, an older gentleman with a cane, slowly made his way to a locker not too far from mine. I was naked at the time, which meant I immediately tensed up and got a bit defensive, and I was thisclose from saying something, but then I just relaxed and went on about my business.

This gentleman didn't say a word to me at all, he just put his cane and his backpack down, and slowly started to remove articles of clothing one by one. I was just about finished getting dressed, when I heard some grunting come from behind me, and I turned around and noticed that this guy was struggling big time to get his workout clothes on his body. His underwear, socks and shirt were on, but he couldn't get his warm up pants over his ass, and despite the loud, powerful grunting he was doing, it was not helping at all. I really started to just walk out of there and act like I did not see this, but I wanted this man to have a workout in the actual gym, not in the locker room putting on his pants, so I asked him if he wanted any help. He sheepishly said yes, and I just lifted his pants up on his waist for him, and then I quickly went back to my locker. As I walked back over to my locker, he looked up and said thank you, and I said no problem at all without looking up at him. He grabbed his cane, and slowly headed towards the gym. No elaborate thank you, no b.s. small talk, he was just a short, sweet, efficient operation.

Now usually this story wouldn't have had a chance in hell of getting off the ground, because I would have said something smart or asinine to the older man about standing close to me, and then a fracas would have ensued, and he'd have beat me down with the curved end of the cane. But for once I accessed my mature side, and actually did a good deed, and I felt pretty good. I wasn't trying to embarrass the man, or make him feel helpless at all. Plus it is quite possible that 80-85% of the time, he has enough strength to pull those pants right up without any grunting or labored motion. But this morning he struggled, and I helped him out. And that's really what you want out of locker room buddy isn't it?

In a strange twist, as I left the locker room I broke my shoe strings to my dress shoes, I realized I had a hole in my sock, and I forgot my umbrella on a day when its supposed to rain. I've yet ascertain what the correlation is between my good deed and my unfortunate luck.

Click here to listen to me and my main man Ryan talk about basketball related issues.

Stay A Little While - Loose Ends

Sunday, November 22, 2009

I'll get back to regular blogging tomorrow, until then checkout this article. Shoutout to Kyle for allowing me to guest write on his site.

Friday, November 20, 2009

First off, won't you be so kind as to read my latest article right here.

So earlier this week my brother called me up, and told me that he was absolutely irate, and it was regarding my nephew. He hadn't gotten in trouble, he wasn't struggling with his grades, and he had not peed on himself uncontrollably. No my friends, the call regarding my nephew had to do with something that happened to him.

Another boy kissed him.

Now, my brother was extremely irate, as you'd expect any father of a three year old to be. One, he was angry because he never particularly cared for the mother of the boy who kissed his son. Two, because over the course of this school year, he had gotten a good look at this kid kisser, and he'd made the conclusion that this kid, even at the "tender" age of three, was a bit "suspect". And the third reason my brother was mad was..well another boy kissed his son for God's sake.

So of course when this happened, my brother called the smartest, most caring and sensitive person in the world to navigate him through these water, and that was me. I told him that he needed to 1)Talk to his son about appropriate and inappropriate touching 2)Talk to the parents of this child and 3)Talk to the teacher(s) about monitoring this type of behavior. Students should not be repeatedly touched against their well regardless of their sex, and teachers should be sensitive to that. And no, I cannot back this up with a BIT of expertise. Perhaps my main man Sabin can.
Anyway the one thing I told my brother NOT to do was to get visibly angry, so that his son felt shamed or got angry, because that could bring on a whole host of scary behavioral issues. That concluded the serious portion of the conversation. The humorous part went like this

Jamal: Rashad, can I ask you a question? (note, my brother doesn't just ask questions, he asks if he can ask you a question, then he asks. THAT is covering all your bases)
Me: Yeah what's up?
Jamal: Did your son's mother ever have a problem with someone kissing on him
Me: You said what now?
Jamal: Did another boy ever kiss your son when he was younger?
Me: Uh no..he was involved in a little something we like to call sports my brother
Jamal: Man f**k you
Me: That's what you get for living in Atlanta too long
Jamal (laughing and crying at the same time): Man this is bullsh*t
Me: Why yes..yes it is

By the way, I supposed I should have gained the proper signatures and clearance from my brother before writing this..but he wrote about this on facebook, so he's fair game.

I love you man. And kiss my nephew for me would you? I hear he's into that.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Last night, my beloved Wizards defeated LeBron James and the Cavaliers, and I stayed up late writing. This morning I overslept, was swamped with work, and wrote an article all at the same time. I got ready to blog, and I realized I had nothing to say at all. There comes a point when you're just tapped out, and the sidewalk ends....for today at least. I'll be back harder, stronger, faster, and of course harder.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

When you're young(and by young I mean until you've graduated high school) your parents are like your heroes. They provide for you, they seemingly have all the answers, and even when they don't, they are skillfully adept at telling you to look it up, research it, and bring it back to them. They take you to practice, discipline you, help with homework, and they just do an all around bang up job at being parents. Yes I am aware of the exceptions, but I'm going to stay positive for the purposes of this blog. By the time you leave for college (or the military, or trade school or Wal-Mart) you are equipped with the necessary skills for you to be an adult.

Then once you're in college, you pretty much shun your parents. Sure you accept their care packages, take their phone calls, visit them during holidays, and humor them with the occasional out-of-the-blue-just-thinking-of-you (aka I need money) calls, but for the most part you are living an autonomous existence. Why? Because that's part of what your parents were trying to teach you to be all those years. College is where you test your lessons, and its where parents admire their work..again, this is ideally.

Then after college, you start to become friends with your parents. The lessons are gone, you are ideally knee deep into whatever profession you've chosen, and the calls are light, easy and breezy. This is when you say to yourself, "hey my parents really aren't mean ass tyrants with no heart..", and good relationships develop. And then if you get married and have kids, they become your mentors, your confidantes, and all that good stuff. And then something happens..

Your parents start to get a bit more advanced in age, and then they get this trait that causes them to get on your f**king nerves. You don't want to be mean to them, and you don't love them any less, but when your phone rings and its them, you wonder whether you should pick up the phone now or call them wonder if they'll say something to ruin your evening, and then you wonder if you're being a bad son or daughter..The thoughts and feelings run the gamut, and you end up picking up the damn phone, having a GREAT conversation for 10 minutes, and then it takes a turn for the worse, and you want to hang up in their faces. But you don't, you say I love you, you hang up the phone, then you bitch and moan to your significant other or your best friend about what just happened. Then someone who has lost one of their parents gets in your face talking about, "I wish I still had MY parents around.." and they try to intercept your perfectly valid anger, and it works..and it sucks..ok now I'm rambling

The point is my mother got on my nerves last night, and it seems to be happening more often, and I feel badly about it. My dad never gets on my nerves like this (except when he keeps asking me "So what else is going on?" instead of realizing there's nothing left to talk about and hanging up the phone). But my mother has a knack for making me angry or irritated both during the call, and then about 20 minutes afterwards. I have no solution, I just wanted to complain. I do love her though.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

I'm starting to get a little self-conscious about all this self-promotion I'm doing on this blog, on facebook and via twitter. I wonder if people see me pushing an article or an interview and say, "Damn we get it man, leave us alone." That's a sentiment that I have frequently expressed when people flood me with me things they have done or accomplished, and it is indeed annoying at times. But then I tell myself that three years ago, I had nothing to push, nothing to promote, and nothing to brag about except this blog(and even that only had a few readers) I feel a little better I suppose. Plus in my humble defense, if you visit a blog where the person's name is in the url, can you really expect anything but narcissism? Still its a fine line to be walking, and I am very conscious of it. I don't have the arrogant trait, and I'd like to keep it that way. But if I don't push myself, who will? I'm torn here.

I forgot to thank Janelle for coming to DC this past weekend to hang with my lady and I. For me, and apparently no one else, its always a scary proposition when world's collide and friends meet. When you throw in an opposite sex friend, it can get even more hairy, but it went very smooth, and I'm happy about that. Crisis averted. While I'm doing shoutouts, I'd like to shoutout my lady's friend Isha, who was nice enough to take my lady to go see the Biggie-in-drag movie that I refuse to see. You are a champion of honesty!

Building A Mystery - Sarah McLachlan

Monday, November 16, 2009

My interview with Grant Hill

A pic from Miami..and yes the shirt is my ode to Kareem. You can buy one here

Sunday, November 15, 2009

My boy Cliff and I were in a sports bar earlier today watching a football game, when an elderly couple entered the bar. The man was using a cane, and was walking extremely slow and labored. The woman was helping the man enter the restaurant by holding the door with one hand, and keeping her hand around his waist with the other. When I saw them making their way into the bar, I told my boy Cliff that they didn't belong in the bar. I wasn't being mean or discriminatory, but the bar was loud, the people in there were good and liquored up, and I just did not see how they would be able to enjoy themselves in a peaceful fashion.

The couple came in and walked all around the bar looking for a seat, and they were unable to find one. It was both cute and painful to watch, because they were moving extremely slow, but they were still smiling and very good spirits. I found myself wanting to find a seat for them, but when I did a quick survey around the bar, I couldn't even find an empty spot for them to sit. I saw two waiters/bartenders look at this old couple, and not ONCE did any of them offer assistance to this couple. At one point they stopped right next to me and the woman said, "There doesn't appear to be anywhere for us to sit dear." The man looked around and said, "I think you're right dear."

They then turned around and slowly walked back out of the bar. No one from the bar helped them be seated, no one offered them a drink, a menu or anything, and I know for sure the bar staff saw them. And then, less than 2 minutes after they entered, they were gone. It was just sad man. Cliff mentioned to me that could very well be us in 30-40 years and he's right...

Friday, November 13, 2009

Its Friday, I'll be attending a potluck lunch for work in about 90 minutes, and I had too much wine last night, so all that adds up to me not feeling like writing much of anything this morning. This should be a good weekend though, there's a fight this Saturday night, there's a Wizards game that same night, Ryan and I will be recording a podcast tomorrow for Hoops Addict (that's something we in the business call a plug), my friend Janelle is coming in town, and most importantly I'm off on Monday.

But yeah I don't feel like writing, but what I DO feel like doing is boring with more of Michael Jackson's brilliance. Notice how everyone else is rehearsing in regular clothes, and Michael's outfit of choice involves a hot ass leather jacket while indoors.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

From 8:30 in the morning on Tuesday, up until about 11pm that night, I received approximately 450 notifications from various people about Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's announcement that he had leukemia My father was the first to inform me, and someone who follows me on twitter was the last. I appreciated each and every notification that I got, because it showed me that people actually pay attention to what I say, and they realize how important Kareem and this upcoming interview are to me. But seriously, enough was enough already damn.

The important thing here, is that I heard from the PR people, and my interview is still on, which made me happy. But then the magnitude of Kareem's announcement and my upcoming interview with him kind of hit me hard. Although Kareem has mentioned several times that his doctor has labeled his prognosis as "very good", leukemia and illnesses like that are very unpredictable. No one wishes this on Kareem (or anyone for that matter) but a good two weeks could very quickly turn into a serious more dire situation. I could interview him on December 5th, and then things could take a more serious turn in coming weeks. Or, on a more uplifting note, before this announcement, Kareeem could have very well breezed through my interview not taking me very seriously at all. But maybe now, he'll do every interview/public appearance with a sense of urgency not knowing whether it will be his last. Or maybe, just maybe, I am over thinking this whole thing, and coming up with crazy scenarios to mask the fact that I'm nervous as hell.

And yes I am nervous. I was watching Kareem on MSNBC last night with Keith Olbermann, and my lady looked over at me and said, "You're going to be interviewing him in a few weeks." And then I said to myself, oh shit I'm going to be interviewing this man in a few weeks..but i'll be fine I'm sure.

Curious Child - Prince

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Why do people bring work related documents and papers into the restroom with them? What is so pressing and important that it can't be left behind while you go in there and conduct your business? And am I to assume that those documents are for your eyes and hands only, or will this be an assembly line situation, where you have to pass this on to other people? I've seen this three times in the past 24 hours (all women by the way) and I just think its nasty. There's just so much that can go wrong in the bathroom, why bring work in there? I suppose bringing work in the bathroom is better than bringing and selling beer in there.

Speaking of work, today is a big day for me. Today is the birthday of one my co-workers, which means for the first time, I can turn down the request for a $10 donation that will be coming my way in the 4-5 hours. I've studied and prepared for this moment, I've given the necessary 150% (per the athlete cliché handbook) and I am ready to nix and stifle any request for money to change hands. Enough is enough.

As I was writing this, my father called me and told me that Kareem Abdul-Jabbar announced the he has a rare form of leukemia. When my dad first said, did you hear about Kareem, my heart sunk because I thought he had died or something, but I was relieved that it was "just" leukemia. I don't know if this affects kareem's short and long term health, or my interview with him in a few weeks, but I will certainly find out right now.

Monday, November 09, 2009

Some Monday thoughts..

This past Saturday, I watched ESPN's special on Len Bias, and I had to fight back the tears more than a few times. The documentary is good, and the fact that I felt close to the story having lived near Boston when Bias died in '86, and then in the DC area as the aftermath unfolded in '87, made me emotional. But watching Bias' father having to talk about Len over and over, knowing he had outlived him, was just hard for me to take. You could see in his eyes and in his body language that the wound surrounding his son's death is just as fresh as it was 23 years ago. But don't let that discourage you from watching it, especially if you're in the DC area.

Do dog owners have to sign some type of pact/contract, that says if they meet another dog owner, the dogs have to sniff each other? At least five or six times on my way in to work, the following scenario would go down. One person would be walking their dog, another person walking their dog would come close, they'd stop (one time in the middle of the street) for a good 2-3 minutes for their dogs to sniff, lick, and god knows what else, and then both parties would walk away. There was no conversation between dog owners, there was no barking or animosity between dogs, there was just odd silence, perverse sniffing and touching, and then that's it. It seemed like a very efficient operation, and I'm just curious to know if that's common among dog owners. Sixfive help me out there...

And last, but not least, god bless the woman who works at the front desk of the gym I attend. She has lost 30lbs over the past 8 months, and today, I think she thought she had on an outfit that accentuated all of her 55 year old curves. After I finished my morning swim, I was tired, sweaty, and ready to go home, but I was detoured by this woman and her outfit. She sashayed her elderly ass by the door, showed a little leg and took it right back, and then had the nerve to poke her ass out. She kept asking me if she looked good, and I thought one "yes" would suffice, but apparently she was shooting for about six or seven of them, so we compromised at three. Its not that I wasn't happy for her loss, I just don't need to see a 55 year old woman, at 6:45 in the morning, posing like Hugh Hefner is about to come sniffing around. Its gross. The list of 55 year old women I could tolerate doing that? Phylicia Rashad, Tina Turner, and Racquel Welch. That's it. That's the list. Ok Maybe Helen Mirren get honorable mention. Other than that, I'd rather not see elderly women in that light. Its bad for (my) business.

Please read my interview and please read my game notes.

And since I've been listening to the great jazz drummer, Elvin Jones all morning, I thought I'd attach a video of his:

Saturday, November 07, 2009

This morning while I was in the barbershop, my barber was explaining to me what his plans for Thanksgiving were going to be. He and his ladyfriend planned to drive down to South Carolina to see his family, and then head back two days later. He explained to me that his parents were dead, and he really didn't get along with much of the family he had left. Then I asked him if he was going to visit his daughter (she's 24) and he paused a bit and said no. Apparently his son-in-law is both physically and mentally abusive, and despite repeated pleas from everyone on the family, his daughter refuses to leave him. I asked him what keeps him from going over there and strangling this guy to death, and he said that if his daughter won't leave, he can't do much for her or to him.

Now I certainly understand that sentiment in the rational side of my brain, because ideally, you cannot make an adult do something that they aren't feeling. But, I swear, as my late grandmother as my witness, if my daughter was being abused physically or any other way, I'd make my way to scene of the crime, inflict bodily harm on this guy(the kind that would keep me out of jail), snatch up my daughter and any kids she may have, and have her either live with me until she came to her senses or help find her a place. Its probably not the right thing to do, but I'll be goddamned if I stand back and watch that kind of thing happen to someone I helped to create.

My barber heard my points and nodded his head, but said to me, "That's not how you do things young brother..she'll leave when she's ready.'

I don't know if there's a right or wrong answer here, I just wanted to share and maybe get some feedback

Friday, November 06, 2009

So if you're sitting at home tonight around 6:45pm (EST) come chat with me! It'll be fun!!

Thursday, November 05, 2009

On Friday, December 4th, 2009, I will be flying to Los Angeles..
that night, I will (hopefully) attend the match between the Lakers and the Miami Heat..
On Saturday December 5th, I will be interviewing Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
Am I pumped? you goddamned right I am.
What I am about to explain may be ignorant to some, and offensive to others so let me offer a fake apology to anyone I may offend.

This morning the train was unusually crowded considering I was going to work 30 minutes earlier than usual. When the train finally stopped, the entrance I chose was especially crowded, and to make things worse there were about 5 people who had to get on the train before me, so I had to patiently wait. But when I looked towards the front of the line, I noticed that everyone was only entering the train on the right side, because a man was standing on the left side of the entrance. Upon closer examination, I noticed that this man was not only reading the paper (god bless him because newspapers are dying), but he was holding the paper so far out, that you couldn't get on the train without running into his paper. The 5 people in front of me, I guess not wanting to cause any type of fracas or brouhaha, just walked around this guy. Their decision to do so a) annoyed the sh*t out of me and b) almost caused me to miss getting in the train.

Now before I explain what I did, allow to give a bit of background on my mind state. I got to work at 7:30am yesterday, I left at 5, headed to the Verizon Center for the Wizards/Heat game(read the game notes), then I left the Verizon Center at 11:10 pm, got home, snacked, got in the bed at 12:45am, and went to sleep at 1:30am. So I'm already cranky and sleepy, but thanks to this Jacksons song, I was in a good mood..that is until this guy ruined it.

So instead of walking around this guy as the previous train passengers had done, I walked right into the newspaper, knocked it down on the ground, and then stepped on it for good measure. Mind you, as I did this, I took my bag off my arm, because I fully expected some kind of conflict whether it be a push, a punch or something, and I wanted to brace myself so I could evade his blow, and then watch as he failed to do the same to mine. But, this guy did no such thing. He looked around, spread his arms wide, and then...

Him: What the f**k dude?
Me: What's wrong?
Him: You walk into my f**king paper, and you stand there and don't say sorry or excuse me or anything? that's classy
Me: That's exactly what I did
Him: You're an a**hole man
Me: I know, but I'm an a**hole who is not blocking the door
Him (bending over to pick up his paper): All you had to do is say excuse me and I'd gotten out of the f**king way, that's how adults act, if you didn't know
Me: You want me to help you pick your paper, or do you have it?
Him: Yeah that's real sincere pal
Me: I do my very best

So at this point, the other 20 or so passengers in the vicinity are either a) wishing we'd shut the hell up or b) getting ready to put up money to see who is going to win this fight. Luckily for all parties involved, my train ride is all of five minutes. I got off the train, but the other did not, so as I left, I gently touched his shoulder and said, "Excuse me slugger, I just wanna get by..". He said, "F**k you pal!", and I told him to have a bless-ed day.

Now, it is entirely possible that I handled that incorrectly and in an immature fashion. But damn it felt good. And he violated the unwritten etiquette rules. One (un)good deed deserved another.

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

So last night as I headed to the shower, I made a visit to the linen closet and pulled a large towel and a face towel. The face towel was brown, and the large towel was green. I didn't do this just to be a contrarian (although that was part of it), I did this mainly because I don't believe in getting color coordinated towels..or sheets for that matter. The face towel lives in the shower, the larger towel(is that even the correct terminology?) lives in the rack outside the shower. Unless you have visitors who are extremely nosy and anal (which I'm sure I've had before) no one will know about the towel color mismatch situation, and the same applies for bedsheets. Unless someone is getting in the bed, they don't need to be too concerned with the color of the bedsheets, because they are either a) going to sleep or b)getting ready to do some "blending". Either way, there should be no discussion about sheets that don't match. That's my belief.

So as I walked back into the bathroom, I made it a point to show the woman I live with, that I was not matching my towels, and of course she was not pleased. She explained to me (for the 100th time) how important it is to match the towels, and my failure to do so was not making her happy. When she replaces the towels after washing, she makes it a point to match both my towel and hers. The fact that I am not bound to such rules and regulations annoys her just a bit. My defense?

I told her that women don't always match their bra and panties during the course of the week, and while she didn't deny that, she told me that wasn't a good enough retort. I feel like this should have been a Curb Your Enthusiasm episode...

Oh and I'd like to thank the Wizards for losing in Cleveland to LeBron James and the Cavaliers...again.

And while I'm giving out thank yous, let me also thank the directors and producers or whoever, for extending "This Is It" for a few more weeks. First of all, no one ever believed your bullshit story that this movie was only going to be out two weeks, you just didn't trust that people would actually come see it in droves the way they have--shame on you. Second of all, you are delaying the release of the DVD, that I want someone to buy me for Christmas or my birthday, and I'm sure that video will have even more unseen footage. So extend the damn movie ONE more week, not three, and stop this b.s. charade.

And now, my favorite Police song...

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

So, on my day off yesterday, I had the pleasure of writing two articles. One was an article on Washington Wizards guard Randy Foye, and I knocked that out in about an hour and a half. No problem.

The second article was much shorter, and easier to write but its significance was WAY more important than the initial one. I had the opportunity to participate in a media conference call with Magic Johnson and Larry Bird. They have a book coming out called, "When The Game Was Ours", and this call was set up so that media members could ask them questions about the book and other topics.

Now when the call began, I had no idea whether my question would actually make the cut. The moderator of the call asked everyone who was going to participate to submit a question, so I did; however, when the call began, the moderator said that there lots of people on the call, so he may not get to everyone. Still, I was nervous as hell. I was pacing around the room, drinking down water like a crazy person, and shuffling papers around trying to calm down. I couldn't even call anyone, because I was recording the call via my cellphone, so I just had to stew in my own nervousness. Why was I nervous? Not only would I possibly have the chance to talk to Magic and Larry, but I would have to do so in front of established journalists. I didn't want to botch the question, and then be known as that guy who f**ked up, instead of Rashad from Hoops Addict. At about the 50 minute mark of the hour long call, I figured they weren't going to get to my question, so I calmed down considerably and starting pouting a bit. And then, right on cue, the moderator said, "And next we have a question from Rashad Mobley from Hoops Addict.."

Instantly I grabbed my notes, got close to the phone, stumbled over my words and got my question out (you'll have to listen to the call to hear what I asked). They both answered my question, and then I was fortunate enough to get a follow up question as well. Then that was it, and I couldn't stop smiling. Right after the conference call, of course I called my dad, and we were like two little schoolgirls talking about Magic, Larry and basketball in the 70s and 80s. I think he was smiling too.

So now, whenever I talk to another basketball player, or even someone not affiliated with basketball, I can start off a sentence by saying, "Yeah, so when I was talking to Magic and Larry..." That's good Christmas party small talk and maybe..just maybe this will be notch on my belt I need to finally interview Mr. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar

So here it is.

Sunday, November 01, 2009

First off, won't you be so kind, and go read my Game Notes, from the Wizards home opener last night.

Yesterday was my nephew's birthday/Halloween party, and leading up to it, I was stressing on what to get him. I'm not good with getting gifts period, but I damn sure am not good with getting gifts for young kids. They can't really articulate what they truly want, and their parents tell everyone to get the same thing, so you can't really trust their advice either. Still, about 20 minutes before the party started, I ventured into Target, hoping to find that perfect gift. I saw baseballs, I saw action figures (its a shame age and maturity have caused me to part with those things, they were great), I saw remote control cars, and just a wide variety of toys for kids. I'll admit I was overwhelmed at all the options, and judging by the looks of the faces of the other men and women in the aisle, I was not alone. Then I saw it...

There was this monster truck that looked like a mini-Bigfoot that made a lot of noise, and I instantly knew that I had to get it. Young boys love trucks that appear as if they can smash anything in their path, and the fact that it made lots of noise only kicked things up a notch(although my brother and sister-in-law will surely hate me). I picked up the gift, shunned wrapping paper, for the more practical gift bag, skipped the birthday card (who are we kidding, I don't even like cards, so why would he), and I stepped into the party.

Once the gift opening ceremony began, I instantly realized I will have some stiff competition for the unofficial "best gift" title, that no one was paying attention to except my narcissistic ass. There were all types of clothes, trucks, books and even a kids laptop that my showoff father decided to get. I was starting to doubt whether my gift would even resonate with my young nephew. But once he unveiled my gift, it passed all the important litmus tests that kid gifts much endure

Eyes get wide when the gift is unveiled? check
Gets impatient while the gift is being removed from the package? check
Other kids around get jealous and try to snatch the gift repeatedly? check
Shuns the other gifts just to play with that one? check

So needless to say I was happy, and I made it a point to tell both of his parents, that uncle Rashad came through like a champ. And most importantly, my nephew was happy with ALL the gifts that he received, and I whispered to him that he should cherish it. The quality of the gift falls precipitously once you enter your 30s..