Thursday, December 20, 2012

I participated in basketball-themed holiday wishes column which can be seen by clicking right here (scroll down to the Wizards portion)

I also helped with this and this

Monday, December 17, 2012

From 1984 to 1987, my family lived in Newtown, Connecticut. My mom was working on her dissertation, so she was home all the time. My dad worked at General Foods in White Plains, NY, but he chose to have us live in Newtown, so that he could shield us from the hustle and bustle in New York and the surrounding suburbs. Newtown was quite, earnest and overwhelmingly white, which was a shock to my family's system, since we lived in Cleveland, Ohio before that.

We didn't live there very long, but there were some memorable moments. I skipped 3rd grade, which made me feel like the man for 30 seconds, before I realized that I was about to be socially inadequate--a condition I've yet to recover from to this day. I remember Newtown (and the whole state of Connecticut for that matter) was soccer crazy, and I fell for the sport hard. And I also remember how quiet and peaceful that town was, despite its lack of diversity. I made great friends there while playing soccer, and I was devastated when my dad told me in July of 1987, that we were moving from Connecticut to Potomac, Maryland. I cried and cried the day we got to DC.

The first couple of years after I left, I did my best to keep in touch with Newtown soccer and school friends, but after awhile, I got over them and embraced my new Maryland life. Facebook, that annoying, yet addictive site that apparently has the ability to reunite, allowed to me to re-connect with my old friends during the past few years. In fact one of my friends from back then, just so happens to live five blocks from me here in DC, which is very cool.

All of this makes last Friday's events feel very weird. Prior to Friday’s tragedy, when I told folks I lived in Newtown, I had to use Bruce Jenner (who went to high school in Newtown) as a reference point because people had no idea what or where Newtown was. Sadly, no one will ever wonder where or what it is again. Not only that, I've had to read Facebook status message from people I knew back then, who just can't believe their quaint, little town, has had its innocence ripped away so quickly and violently. It is depressing.

But I refuse to end on a depressing note, so here is a picture that was taken in the spring of 1984 in Newtown, CT, on the front lawn of our house back then. My brother and I in our soccer outfits, with our shorts pulled up as high as the law will allow you to pull them. I'm the taller one by the way...




Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

2 years and counting....


Thursday, December 06, 2012

Well at this point I have serious doubts that anyone even still reads this blog. But my cluttered life has taken a break from kicking my ass, which allows me to write a bit. So I'll attempt to fill in the gaps...


First off, my son is rubbing his little johnson against the front of the Bumbo chair, while he's in the bathtub. At first I thought it was pretty funny that at the ripe old age of 11 and a half months, he has already discovered the joys of his own genitalia. But now, when I see the determined look on his face, and how important it is for him to press his junk up against this chair, then smile at me, it has morphed into creepiness. But who am I to deny him a gift that will keep on giving throughout his life?

Second, if you are a fan of Bilal, go download this mixtape. He has his greatest hits on there, but he also covers Stevie Wonder's "Too High", which is just awesome.

Third, I have decided to have a 39th birthday party on Jan 20th (formerly known as Inauguration Day before this year). I will post details later, and all 3 of you who read are invited to come and act your age minus 15.


Fourth, watch this documentary on Boyz N The Hood. My brother sent it to me the other day and it is badass:


And lastly, here is an updated picture of my beloved Nyles:



Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Friday, November 16, 2012

Today is one of those days that I'll hold near and dear to my heart--and you should believe that, because I rarely (read: never)use the expression, "near and dear to my heart". My wife had to work late today, which meant I had the rare opportunity to pick up (as opposed to dropping off) my son from daycare.

When I walked into the church, I could hear my son happily screaming and yelling, and this only kicked up a notch when he actually saw my face. The daycare ladies handed me to him, he laughed and scream even more and we left.

***sidebar*** When the daycare ladies initially handled Nyles to me, I noticed that his diaper was not right, and I frowned my nose. The ladies promptly whisked Nyles away, changed and disposed of his diaper, and then handed him back to me. It made me think back to a couple months ago, when Nyles left the house with a clean diaper, but during our travels to daycare, he did some dirty things. I felt guilty about handing over a dirty diaper child..to me it is the equivalent of a woman showing up to work with a run in her stockings. You knew it was jacked up when you arrived, but you were hoping you could slide. I'm ranting. sidebar off. But when I tried to change Nyles, the daycare ladies said no, and they changed him, and I left with a clear conscience. How cool is t that?***

Anyway, Nyles and I went from daycare to the doctor's office, where he got the second half of his flu shot. As you can imagine, that doctor's appointment was not smooth at all, and he was cranky all evening until I put him to bed about 20 minute ago (7:30).

In about an hour, once the wife gets home, I'll be headed to Union Station to meet my 15 year old, who is coming for the weekend. The fact that I can pickup both of my sons today makes me so damn happy. Great times.

Shout out to my lovely wife who dry snitched me on Twitter earlier tonight. Click here.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

This song came on my ipod, and I forgot how much I enjoy it:

Wednesday, November 07, 2012

So my guilty pleasure song of the moment is Keyshia Cole's, Enough of No Love. I don't think that Keyshia can sing, and I think Lil Wayne's rap is uninspired and superfluous, but for some reason I cannot get the song out of my head. Actually, I've never heard the song on the radio, I just see the video at least twice a day(yes I still watch videos from time to time..ok everyday).

Two days ago I decided enough was enough, and I downloaded the song off itunes. I muted Monday Night Football, and I listened to the song while I was playing with young Nyles, so I really didn't listen to the words carefully--only the addictive chorus. Today, while I was commuting into work, I heard the words to the song. I heard Keyshia's curse words, and I heard Lil Wayne's overly sexist lyrics, and I got offended (which isn't easy to do). The video version had all but shielded me from this profanity, so to hear it was a shock to my system. I sat there on the train and said to myself, "Man, f**k this when I get home, I'm downloading the clean version."

Two seconds after I muttered that phrase to myself, I was ashamed. For years I laughed at clean versions of songs, and I attached a certain degree of prudeness to them--especially when I found out Wal-Mart sold clean versions in bulk. I wore my ability to recite copious amounts of profanity like a badge of honor..or flair if you will. Now during my train ride to work, industry powerhouses Keyshia Cole and Lil Wayne were suddently able to blow up my whole operation, sending me on a downward spiral towards the prude folks. I'm hoping this is an isolated incident.

That's all I have for now..except for my latest article of course.

Tuesday, November 06, 2012

First off, please read this article and then this one.

Then watch this commercial and realize that the wall with all the records is something I need in my 37-going-on-38 life..

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Number one, please read the latest article I contributed to right here.

Second, I'm tired of explaining why I don't blog as much. My job is demanding, basketball season is here, I have familial obligations, football season is also here, and as a result, I simply cannot keep the pace I used to maintain in terms of blogging.

But I can offer pictures of Nyles as an olive branch..if you care of course



Thursday, October 18, 2012

So today I overheard a conversation on the train between two young people (late 20's, early 30s) and they were talking about the Presidential debates earlier this week. One woman said that she just didn't like Mitt Romney because he came off as entitled and detached, and the other woman was harping on the "binders of women" comment (which was funny, but wrong). There was little to no discussion about policies or substance, only the likability of Obama and the opposite emotion regarding Romney. This reminded me of my old basketball coach, Wilbert.

Wilbert was loud, mean, abrasive, offensive, and he yelled at the best and worst players with the same amount of ferociousness. He had a certain way he wanted his players to play (fast and smart) and any failure to adhere to his rules provoked yelling, screaming and eventually a seat on the bench--not next to him, but on the other end. You were out of sight, out of mind. And given that we hadn't lost a single game all year, it was hard to argue with his methods. His assistant coach was the opposite. He wanted the plays to be run correctly, but he was the friend of all the players. Instead of yelling, he'd throw a gentle "come on man" or "get it together" at the players, and because of that, he was the team favorite.

So one time Wilbert had to miss a game, which meant the assistant was thrust into the role of head coach. Everyone was motivated to play hard for him in the beginning, but when we started to get behind, all the players started to shun team basketball, and take matters into their hands (something coaches call "hero ball"). The assistant coach called a timeout, went to his tried and true method of saying "come on man", and a bunch of other gentle, tender and benign phrases, but it did not work. The team wasn't motivated, the quality of play did not improve, and we were blown out. Even back then as a 14 year old, I knew that our assistant coach, as nice and gentle as he was, had neither the demeanor nor the bite, to lead young men to victory.

Now, I'm not saying you have to mean and assholish to run a basketball team or a country, but I am saying that personality has little to nothing to do with the price of tea of China. Politics, much like sports, is a results-based business. And whether you're rich and arrogant like Romney, or you have no money worries and you're seemingly humble like Obama, it really does not matter. What matters is can you run the country in an effective manner.

That was my official 2012 presidential election preview. I hope you enjoyed it.

Tuesday, October 09, 2012

Please read my latest article here

The title of the article is based on this 22 (yes 22) year old song by GangStarr:

Sunday, October 07, 2012

My job continues to kick my ass, and I am behind on my Wizards-related articles, so I haven't exactly been showing this blog much love. In fact, I don't even know if anyone reads anymore..but I promise to be a bit more prolific this month. Just a bit..

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

My 20 year high school reunion is scheduled to take place the day after Thanksgiving, and I can readily admit that I was pumped when I first saw that it was being planned. I intentionally skipped the 5,10 and 15 year reunions my class planned, because quite frankly it was too soon. 5 years after high school, I still had the maturity of a 17 year old, 10 years after high school I was too self-centered, and 15 years afterwards, I was 3 months off a major fire, and my self-esteem was at the bottom of the toilet.

20 years later, all my ducks are in their proverbial row, the stars have properly aligned, and now I am ready to take on the reunion---and I don't want to go anymore. I initially thought I did when a Facebook group was set up and some of my old classmates started populating their name on the "Are you going?" spreadsheet. And then I got sucked in the playful, what-are-you-doing-now? banter that I saw as well as the where-will-the-venue-be conversations. But as more of my old classmates started to chime in and post pictures from high school, I realized I had grossly romanticized my high school experience.

I was in none of the pictures from high school, because I wasn't a member of any of the fancy cliques (except the basketball team and the newspaper), my two best friends were a year behind me, and the people who were committing to attend were mildly annoying (ok way more than mildly). I reached out to one of the few people I actually keep in touch with, and she put it best: "Rashad, the people we went to high school with are jackasses!" Part of me still wants to go, so I can be "that guy" who makes everyone uncomfortable because I actually dared to show up, despite not really being welcome, but a)I have no clue whether anyone actually really believes that I'm not welcome and b)I'm allegedly too mature to spend $75 on an evening's worth of revenge. But I do wonder how many people go this mental tug of war regarding their high school reunion.

It is worth pointing out that I have ditched college reunions too for this same reason. My main man Sabin (my college roommate for two years) was the man in college and he was popular as hell. Meanwhile, people would refer to me as "that guy that hung around Sabin", which I wore/wear as a badge of honor. There are worse things to be remembered by:

1) That guy who passed out in front of the student union
2) that guy who got beat up at the football party
3) The guy who gave 23 girls herpes
4) The girl who sucked 30 guys off in one night, but held her dignity high because she didn't sleep with any of them

You get the point...

Friday, September 21, 2012

1)I know I posted a video of Maya Rudolph singing Prince's "Darling Nikki" yesterday, but here is one with the legendary Roots crew backing her.

2)Life is precious. My wife was talking to one of her co-workers on Monday morning, and later that day her co-worker collapsed at work, and the next morning she passed away at age 45. The cause of death has yet to be revealed. That is just weird, creepy, and sobering all at the same time. I'm not going to dwell on it though, it is just a good reminder to appreciate folks while they are still around...except for the ones who make you angry, still treat them badly, they deserve it.

3) Nyles is knee deep in the sleep regression pool. He wakes up every two hours, he cries, he whines, and it is pissing the wife and I off. Equally maddening is the b.s unsolicited advice I've gotten from folks involving home remedies that would surely get my wife and I arrested (although we've given each option some SERIOUS consideration out of pure frustration). We love our boy, but damn he's a pain in the ass sometimes

4) I hope you've continued to read these articles on the top 56 Washington Wizards players over the last five years. We, much like Bartles and James, thank you for your support.


Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Friday, September 14, 2012

I apologize for all the name dropping I'm about to do.

The Tom Joyner Morning Show was in Cleveland this morning, and my mother was in the audience while Kym Whitley was being interviewed. Kym Whitley has been in television shows and movies for the past 20 years or so, and my mother hasn't done too shabby for herself either. But 30 years or so ago, my mother was a high school teacher at Shaker Heights High School in Ohio, and Kym was her student, and the babysitter of her kids (my brother aid I). Kym saw my mother, they embraced, talked, etc, and they took this picture together, which I thought was special (even if no one else does).


Tuesday, September 11, 2012

1) I thought it was a rule that when you're pushing a stroller with your kid in it, you have to speak to anyone who is doing the same. I've observed that rule since Nyles was born, and for the most part, people have done the same for me. But this morning, while I was pushing Nyles around, I was ignored by 3 couples, and I couldn't figure out why. I wasn't feeling confrontational enough to force the issue, but I felt some kind of way about being forsaken.

2) Why is it none of you people told me that Michael Jackson's Bad was being re-released next Tuesday. For just $34.99, I can re-live all the great music, some unreleased tracks and concert footage. It doesn't get any better than that.

3) Have you been following the Truth About It series on the greatest Washington Wizards of the past 5 years? If not, click here.


And staying with the theme of Michael Jackson, here was my favorite scene in "This Is It". Michael, in a gentle, yet forceful way, was telling Michael Bearden to do things his way, and his way only.


Saturday, September 08, 2012

Nyles and Madonna

My father used to play records every Saturday afternoon/evening, and give my brother and I a story about everything he played. I've started the tradition with young Nyles. The afternoons consist of me playing records, and he either does this:



or this







Thursday, September 06, 2012

The good folks at Truth About It and I are doing a series on the best Washington Wizards players from the last five years. Here is the first installament.

Tuesday, September 04, 2012

Nyles is...a smooth criminal


Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Several months ago, one of my friends posted something about sleep regression on Facebook, as it related to her infant. She graduated from the newborn stage, and her baby had finally begun to sleep with some degree of regularity. Then inexplicably, the baby started being a pain in the ass again. When I read about that, part of me sympathized, but a bigger part of me was relieved that young Nyles had seemingly evaded that dreaded part of being an infant. Clearly the joke was on my wife and me.

The past couple of weeks, the wife and I have abandoned swaddling and begun sleep training young Nyles all at the same time. His post daycare routine is as follows:

5-6pm: Eat, be happy, spit food on Mommy and Daddy

6-7: Have a violent mood swing from happy to evil, cheer up momentarily in the bathtub, then revert to angry man

7- 7:30: Drink a warm bottle, go to sleep, cry, sleep, cry, sleep, cry once more, then sleep

11-12a: whimper, toss and turn, fool Mommy and Daddy into thinking you're going to wake up, and then go back to sleep

2am: Wake up and scream bloody murder

3am: See 2am

4am: See 2am

5am: Trick Mommy into letting you in the bed (Daddy has given up sleep at this point and a)goes to workout or b) goes to work)

530am: Fall into a DEEP sleep until 6:45, when Mommy is already awake and pissed the f**k off

6:45am: Wake up smiling, joking and looking cute, just completely shunning the fact that he kept his parents up all night



The wife and I are sleep deprived, cranky, too tired for (regular) sex, and if this goes on, someone at our respective jobs will feel our wrath. As angry as this little boy makes me, when someone at work asks me how Nyles is doing, I smile and instantly start bragging about him, like he didn't cause me hell the night before. It's as if he's strong in the ways of the Force, and I have no power over him. I love him, but I'm not against crushing Ambien tablets in his bottle...

This song you see below has become my guilty pleasure song of the month. I've always appreciated Usher, but his recent material is boring. I don't like Rick Ross all that much, because he's just an average lyricist most of the time. But put them together, and for some mysterious reason I'm hooked...

Sunday, August 26, 2012

About three weeks ago I was on Facebook, when I noticed that one of my "Suggested friends" was an ex-girlfriend of mine from 2005. I ignored it at first, then I decided to click her page to see what she was up to. Instead of seeing pictures, corny status messages and a bunch of superfluous stuff that litters the facebook pages of everyone (present company excluded of course), I saw something much different.

The facebook had been started by her mother, because the ex died in her sleep back on June 3rd at age 43. Her mother wanted to start the page to keep her memory alive via her friends and family. I hadn't spoken to her in awhile, but her death still gave me pause for a few reasons.

One, it is always a little weird and creepy when someone you knew and lost touch with passes away. You expect your exes to disappear to move on, not die. Two, I remember breaking up with this ex back in April of 2005, because I had met another woman who I felt was way more promising. That promising woman ended up breaking it off with me in June of 2005, being my friend again in 2006, and my wife in 2010.

**sidebar*** My ex was a born again virgin who hadn't had sex in over 15 years, and initially I didn't care because she was cool people, and it was October, which meant football season had just started. While I prefer not to, I can go without sex during football season. But when the spring came around, and she still didn't seem to be giving it up, I became antsy. She went on a cruise with her girls for 10 days. On the fourth day she was gone, I met a girl (now my wife). On the sixth day she was gone, she called me to say hi, and I told her it was over, and then her phone cut off because she was on a cruise. On the 9th day she was gone I got a letter in the mail that she had written on the 1st day of her cruise, telling me how she was ready to "give it up". I felt terrible. **sidebar off**

I found it weird that in the midst of this beautiful life I have, I happened to read about the death of an ex who I dumped two days after meeting my wife. That is weird, which is why I didn't write about this until almost an entire month later. 90% of the time, you want your exes to go away forever, and you really don't care whether you speak to them again or not. They can find out about you through mutual friends, facebook or by reading your blog once or twice a month, but you'd rather not deal with them directly. But you really don't expect to read about their untimely demise..and definitely not at the age of 43.

Not trying to be morbid here, this was just on my mind today. The wife and I talked about this when it first happened, I'm just now getting around to writing it...



Saturday, August 25, 2012

Fear of a Black President.

I wish I had written this brilliant article

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

More videos..this one is an old interview with the Jacksons, Gamble and Huff
Work has been kicking my monkey ass, so I have nothing of eloquence to write. I just wanted to share this Anita Baker song, that I found out was co-written by Gerald Levert. This is one of my favorite Anita Baker songs..






Friday, August 17, 2012

I've had plenty of jobs where the concept of working home was a complete joke. I would have my laptop out for work, but it was entirely possible that I'd also have a glass of wine on hand, ESPN on tv, and music blaring through the speakers. 20% of me was working, 75% of me was chillin', and 5% of me was lost (as is always the case).

This current job takes my previous notion of working from home, and it shoves it all the way in my face. I'm at home now, but I feel like I am right in the office. People are sending me work IMs, I'm answering emails, I'm writing reports, making calculations, I'm eating onions and spotting dimes. I sat down to work at 8am, and I looked up, and it is now almost 10am, and there's still plenty of work to be done (which is why I'm blogging right now). Complaining about work is like complaining about fantasy sports..no one cares and no one has sympathy for you. I'm a bit overwhelmed but I am fully aware of the alternative, and I have no desire to be without employment. So I power thru.

This really wasn't worthy of an entry, but sometimes it feels better to vent. I thank you for reading. Plus no one wants to read about the terrible things happening in Nyles' diapers this week.


Monday, August 13, 2012

This past weekend I had the pleasure of visiting Ohio for my grandmother's 80th birthday and my uncle's marriage--on the same day. I saw lots of family, got lots of love, witnessed lots of questionable wedding attire choices, and I had an overall great time. It was also my first road trip with the wife and young Nyles, and to say the little fella tested our patience would be a supreme understatement.

First off, in order to leave D.C., we had to pack the car with our entire house. A portable crib, bottles, diapers, formula, a stroller, and this was before we got to our own stuff in the damn car. Then, the drive from D.C. to Cleveland usually takes me around 5 and a half hours with one or two stops at the most, but with a seven and a half month old, that just isn't possible. My trip took seven and a half hours there, and seven hours home, and I couldn't even complain about it. As my uncle said, "With infants you have to take your nice, efficient plans and throw them out of the window. And that's exactly what I did.

Anyway, one of the more depressing sights this weekend was my grandmother--specifically the effects dementia is starting to have on her. The last time I saw her was during her husband's funeral, and I couldn't see the dementia, because sadness seemed to be the prevailing emotion. But this weekend, there was nothing that could hide the dementia. Not even her birthday and the marriage of her son could hide what I saw. At one point, I saw her open the fridge, then open about 6 cupboards, close them all, open them up again, then scratch her head for about 5-7 minutes. Finally, I put her and the situation out of its misery, and I asked her what she was looking for, and she said she had no clue.

This went on the entire weekend. There were moments of clarity, like when she told me about her first husband (my grandfather) leaving her for a white woman in 1962 (this wouldn't be a big deal today, but when a black man left his black wife for a white woman in the heart of the Civil Rights movement, that took balls as big as church bells). But there were more moments of her rambling, talking about things that made no sense, and getting caught mid-sentence or mid-thought without knowing how to finish. It was sad to see, but millions of elders (and their family members) are going through this. My other grandmother battled this and cancer for about six months, and then she said enough is enough, and passed away on her own terms. Things don't always get tied in a neat little bow like that, but I wish there was a way to avoid this. Not to mention, this is taking a toll on my mother, who has taken on the yeoman

task of trying to take care of her (along with a caregiver, who is there while my mother works).

I'm stopping now, because this shit is absolutely depressing, but I wanted to at least get a partial thought out on the subject. I'll end on a high note

Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Tuesday, August 07, 2012

So last Thursday night, I worked a little over a 12-hour day, and I decided that I deserved a nice bottle of red wine. My father-in-law was staying with me still, so I was a little leery about him seeing me drink (I'm lying), especially since he's been sober for quite some time, but I powered thru that pseudo-guilt and bought the wine. I was getting ready to venture back in the house, when I remembered that the wife requested that I buy some formula for young Nyles, so I headed into Rite-Aid to do just that.

***Sidebar*** I can readily admit that there is a bit of guilt involved when you buy wine AND baby formula on the same run. The wine cost me $15 dollars, the formula cost me $21, and part of me thought that I should be spending that money on TWO bottles of formula, instead of wine and formula. Then I went to the-grown-ups-need-to-have-fun-too card that adults use to rationalize bad behavior and child neglect, and I bought that f**king wine with no regret with one caveat. Usually I shun the purchase of the bag when I buy wine because a) the liquor store is right across the street from my house (and I don't live in a "black" neighborhood, so picture that. and b)bags are five cents. This time I bought a bag, because I couldn't be seen purchasing wine with a bottle in my hand..that's just bad business right? right.***sidebar off**

So as I was looking for formula, I saw this familiar looking older man bending over and looking at dog food. I stared for a few seconds and wondered if it was who I thought it was, but I said nah, and kept walking. I went to pick up some deodorant, then I headed to the counter, and the old man was in front of me once again, and THIS time I knew exactly who it was. Former Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld. We had the following conversation:

Me: Mr. Rumsfeld?
Him: Yes sir
Me: I don't want to bother you and ask for a picture, but then again, there's no way in hell anyone will believe me if I say I saw you in a drugstore buying dog food
**big hearty laughter by both of us..more him though***
Him: Ah its ok
Me: No that's ok, I just wanted to say hello and shake your hand
Him: Oh ok
**We shake hands**
Me: Take care sir

Of course five minutes later, these two girls begged him for a picture, and he played along, smiled and took the picture (with dog food in his hand), but I could tell he didn't like it. Now I don't agree with the man's politics, and I'm sure he's masterminded some things that would downright piss me off (and vice versa). But this was a man who held a pretty political office, and that alone commands my respect.

I should have taken a picture...anyway, more Nyles:

Thursday, August 02, 2012

Yes I realize this video is 55 minutes long, and yes I'm aware that youtube may not let you watch it from my blog, because they want you to go their site directly. But this is a great documentary on Stevie Wonder's "Hotter Than July" album (back when you could call them albums without dating yourself). This wasn't Stevie's best album, but it had one of my favorite songs on there entitled "All I Do" (Mr. Michael Jackson sings background on it). But I digess..watch the video please:

Monday, July 30, 2012

What Love Is..

Top of the muffin TO YOU!!

Love is when you sit in your living room and watch the Fox Show, "Hell's Kitchen", with your wife and father-in-law. Sure you just poured a glass of wine so you could watch the Olympic Games, which are nice enough to come into Your life every four years for two entertaining weeks. And sure you told your wife to "go ahead" when she asked if you could turn the channel, and sure your black ass should have been honest and said, "hells no!". But because you love your wife, and you (allegedly) have enough manners to relinquish control of the remote and the television to your hard-working wife and your father-in-law (who is a guest at your apartment watching Nyles because daycare is closed this week). And yes you agreed to change the channel even though you and your father-in-law seemed to be having a bang-up time watching synchronized male diving (don't judge me) before the wife changed the channel. But because there is love, you shut the hell up, you take it and you don't complain (but you do write about it, because writing is what you do). You also know (and strongly urge) that your wife will put out like a champ sometime in the near future to right this horrible wrong..

And now, I will end on a high note..Nyles got his first high chair yesterday...


Thursday, July 26, 2012

My favorite Sherman Hemsley moment
So last night, my boss asked me to put something together in Microsoft Visio, which is a program that I have extremely limited experience with (so limited in fact, I don't even try to be slick and put it on my resume as something I'm "proficient" in). If anyone else I work with asked me to complete this task, I would have hit them with the Double XX Posse logic. But since my boss asked me to do it, and since she needed it done before I left last night to deliver to HER boss, I foolishly said I could handle it. That was at 4pm.

Four hours later I completed the task, and luckily for me, my boss was working late anyway so it was no big deal. Around 7 or so, I went to her office and assured her I was still working, but it was going slow, and she gave me this look like that said, "You're still working on this?" (if you watch The Office, think of the time when Charles asked Jim why he was working so hard on the rundown):

Charles: You started on that rundown yet? [Looks at Jim's screen.]
Jim: Oh, this is just something I'm taking a break with.
Charles: Oh.
Jim: I will get back to the rundown, uh, right now.
Charles: Okay, great.
Jim: Hey you know what? Do you have a rundown that I could take a look at, just so I know what type of rundown you're looking for ?
Charles: Just keep it simple.
Jim: Keeping it simple -that's what I'm doing. But I am working hard on this one. Real hard.
Charles: You're working hard? On this?
Jim: No. Not too hard. Not harder than I should.
Charles: Right. I mean why work harder than you should.
Jim: No, I...


Anyway, I told my boss that I was powering through, and I could still handle the task at hand. But man I was struggling, and everyone who I called on for help either a) blew me off b) didn't know what Vision was or c)was unavailable (as an aside, another one of my friends told me later, that Visio was for lames, and it's all Mac-related design programs..she can kiss my ass). I felt like a jackass for biting off more than I could chew, but I felt a bit of vindication when I finally got it done to her liking (with some help from a lone IT guy who was still here too).

When I got home, young Nyles was sleep, my wife fought sleep long enough to imbibe with me for 30 minutes or so, and then she crashed too. Around 11:45 I finally went to sleep after a 14-hour workday, and then the sleep gods decided to f**k me by waking me up at 3:30am. The wife and son were fast asleep, and I was laying awake watching woman's soccer for two and a half hours. I have little to no patience today, which means it is entirely possible that I will be asked to tackle another impossible task on just 3 hours sleep. I'm not complaining, I'm merely giving a three-paragraph long excuse for me taking a nap in my office and/or leaving early today is definitely an option.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

First of all, I would love if you would read the article that my colleagues and I slaved over by clicking right here.

Second, I would like to send a special, special shoutout to young Nyles who has given my wife and I his cold for the second time in a little over a month. I'm learning now that when your child is sick, short of living in a bubble and wearing masks, it is impossible to avoid getting that same cold..with one caveat. The cold my son has involves intermittent sneezing and coughing and mild congestion. Once it morphs into an adult cold, it picks up strength like a hurricane in the Atlantic, and it hits harder, faster and with way more impact. I stayed home with the little fella yesterday, and today I needed to stay home, but I'm back at work. So the big middle finger to that kid who gave the cold to my son.

And thirdly, my oldest son has started rapping, and he's dropping curse words and "N" words like he's Kool G Rap. His mother and stepfather don't seem to mind, which makes me look like the villain in this scenario..which is perfectly fine with me, but still. A 14 year old high school kid should not be posting his profane rhymes on facebook, soundcloud or anywhere, he should be trying to graduate and go to college. That's just my opinion, but it doesn't seem to be shared by the other adults his life, which is infuriating to say the least. I would post the link to the page with his music on there, but I can't do that right now...I'm not spreading that filth. I can't decide whether I'm offended as a parent or a fan of rap music..but I am offended. Clearly he's influenced by the cadences and rhymes of Drake, Lil Wayne and Rick Ross. If you were to scan my ipod, you may see 5-10 songs combined from those artists. I respect (kind of) their work, but I'm not a big enough fan to by their entire album. Plus they aren't talking about anything worth getting excited about.

Anyway, my son did record his last three songs profanity and "n" word free, so maybe I'm getting through to him. I know he curses and all that when I'm not around, which is fine (kind of). But you CANNOT put that b.s. up on the internets for all to see, because it stays with you...like herpes or Bob.


Friday, July 20, 2012

Thanks to my main man John for finding this audio clip about introverts

And shoutout to Nyles for this:


Thursday, July 19, 2012

So today I am home with young Nyles, thanks to a kid at daycare who made it their business to give my son some type of bug. He's congested, he's coughing, he has a low-grade fever, and in the 2 hours since his mother left, he has kicked my monkey ass. He's clingy, he's cranky, and he's looking at me like "Oh you thought you were going to work from home today buddy? Hells no!".

Speaking of working from home, the new job is challenging but in a good way. When you're new, you have to delicately toe that balance between learning the ropes and being assertive, and I think I've navigated that successfully. I'm the only black man in the office, which has never happened since I started working at 23. Virtually every race is represented in my office (including some black women), but there are no black men--and it isn't even a big deal, which is all the more surprising. Unlike my last office, where my boss and others seemed to be preoccupied with everything BUT work, my new colleagues are all about work, production, proposals, etc. In essence (and ebony), I made the right decision...plus I get to be involved with the writing, editing and organization of proposals which is what I've wanted to do for a minute now.

But the bad part of my decision to leave my old office involved the commute. My commute has gone from a 10 minute walk to a 60-75 minute train/bus ride, which tests my patience in every way you can imagine. People get in my face on the train, the crazies invade my personal space, and the train seems to be delayed daily. And the sad part is, if I drove back and forth, my commute would be even longer--that's the bad part about living in DC and working in Northern Virginia. But that's a minor complaint, other than that I'm happy. Why does this feel like I'm typing an email to a penpal in jail? Why, because I'm rusty that's why...

As I'm typing this email, I just got text from wife that read, "I'm fairly certain they didn't do it in his bottom though". In context, her text makes perfect sense because we were trying to figure out how Nyles' daycare took his temperature yesterday. Out of context, it looks an email from the Jerry Sandusky files....

Too soon?

I haven't bought the Nas, but everyone tells me it is epic..

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Ok so I'm back after a brief hiatus. My friend Janelle asked me about the blog yesterday as did my brother. My main man Sabin asked about it today, and the wife constantly asks me. To be honest, I actually have had things to say over the past few weeks, I just brushed them aside. Not to mention, if I'm being honest with myself, writers write no matter what, no matter how difficult it is, and no matter who is or isn't reading. I fancy myself a writer, so I'm must put my head down and power through any slump that may come (u)pon me.

That's all for now....

Oh and guess who's saying da-da now?

Saturday, June 23, 2012

When I started this blog six years ago, I was just a few months into my job at the Department of Justice, and I had lots of free time. And this past Friday, several promotions later (less free time too), I worked my last day at that job. Partly because my boss is a jackass, partly because other opportunities came about, and partly because six years was enough, I decided to take another job with more money--however I'm not going to mention this new place of employment because Google is a powerful thing. I can no longer walk to work which sucks, but the piece/peace of mind I will have at the new spot, will make it all worth. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

When I got that job I was basically single, I was reckless, and this blog was probably much more fun to read. Since then, I've had a fire, I got married, had a son, and I am allegedly more responsible, but definitely more boring. I almost decided that this would be a good stopping point for my blog, especially I will have less time to dedicate to it. But I figure longer spans of time between entries is much better than just eliminating it completely. So it lives to see another day...

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

I was ready to leave the house at 7am sharp. My wife dilly-dallied around so she could take this picture of young Nyles..I'd say it was worth me being mildly annoyed.



Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Once my son and I leave the house in the morning, we walk to the car, and I put my work bag, and his diaper bag in the car. Then I fasten him in the car seat, put his toys in there with him, kiss him on the cheek, and close the door before walking to the driver's side. The look my son gives me as I walk away, is one of sadness and confusion as if he's saying, "What the hell are you doing to me man, and why are you leaving me?". For that reason, once I get to the driver's side and start the car, I usually reach back and touch his leg to let him know all is well. Then I tell him, "Ok we're headed to daycare buddy", and he says nothing back in return--although one day he will.

When we arrive at daycare, I go around and get the diaper bag, and then I get to Nyles' side of the car, and the look on his face is completely different. First he looks up at me as if he's startled, but in seven seconds or less, a big smile comes over his face and he starts kicking his legs with pure joy. Of course, he normally loses that smile as I'm trying to take him out of the car seat, because I usually try to do so without completely freeing him from the car seat straps. Still, once I pick him up and hold him again, he's fine.

But that moment when I walk up to the car, and he's smiling and kicking? THAT is the best part of my day..until I see my wife naked of course, but that's a separate entry.

Friday, June 15, 2012

Here is my latest article. I'm a bit rusty, but that'll change soon.

I know two people who called it quits from the world of blogging, and for the 334th time, I have pondered it too. Less people read now, and I have no problems admitting that my life is pretty boring from a blogging standpoint. I'm a father, a husband, and every now and then someone pisses me the f**k off. I've gotten less angry (not really) of late, and on top of that, it just feels like a chore to write down my feelings. But like I told my main man Sabin, a six-year habit is not easy to break. So the blog will live on..for now.

Happy Father's day to the fathers reading this blog. Make sure your kids (even if their gifts come via their mothers) get you something nice. Make sure your wife/girlfriend/jumpoff gives you gifts, head, allows you to engage in some semi-rough sex, and when Sunday comes, you are allowed to watch the U.S. Open AND game three of the NBA finals without any hassle. These are my wishes for you...

Saturday, June 09, 2012

Monday, June 04, 2012

So my car was in the shop today, which means the wife and I had to get a zipcar for the day (which is a great plan B to have). The car was ready late this afternoon, and I went to pick it up, but my wife still had to pick young Nyles up in the zipcar. By the time they came home, I found a nice parking spot for my car, which meant I was able to take the zipcar back to its parking space, while the wife talked to Nyles at home after his first day of daycare in 2 weeks (thank God the cold is gone). I say all this not to bore you, but to properly set my scene.

The zipcar that I picked up earlier this morning, and was now returning in the evening, was housed in a parking lot of a hotel just two blocks away from my house. I waved at my Hispanic brothers who were working valet parking, and I pulled the zipcar into its rightful spot, locked the car, and proceeded to walk up the steep hill out of the parking garage, back to the mean city street. As I strode towards the street, a man with a suit and tie on emerged from one of the side door that connects to the hotel. He damn near stood in front of me, and we had the following conversation. Let me further set this scene by mentioning three things:

1) This man was white
2) I am black
3) There were two white men walking ahead of me who were dressed in summer clothes, while I was dressed in work attire, and he said nothing to them--not hello, not stop, nothing at all



Here's what happened:

Hotel guy: Can I help you?

Me: (hearing every word he said, but making him repeat himself): I'm sorry?

HG: Can I help you?

Me: Help me with what?

**there were five seconds of silence followed by five more seconds of mumbling. It sounded like this.

HG: Well you're walking out of the parking lot and I didn't see you drive in so...

Me: I'm still not understanding what I'd need help with in that scenario

**At this point my Hispanic brother (HB) jumps in

HB: He's cool sir, he dropped off a Zipcar

HG: Oh ok

Me: So my brother over there validated me now right?


HB (touching me on my shouler): man don't even sweat it bro, its ok, just walk away



The hotel guy at this point turned beet red, and was babbling some bullshit but I walked away at this point. Now, I am well-aware racism is as alive and well as Tiger Woods' ability to win golf tournaments in 2012. I am also one of those black men who doesn't prematurely cry racism in any given situation. I like to study and assess situations before slapping them with the racism tag--in fact, I'll label someone stupid and ignorant before I hang the scarlet "R" around their neck. But I recognized this situation fairly quickly as racism. The other two guys in front of me (one of whom drove a zipcar too) were not stopped or questioned at all, and they were dressed like they had just come from a day long fishing trip (which actually sounds heavenly). But not only did I get stopped, but this guy blocked my path like I wasn't allowed to leave.

Maybe I overreacted, but I really don't feel like I did...





Wednesday, May 30, 2012

First off, young Nyles is still sick, although his cough and congestion situation is definitely improving. We are hoping he can return to daycare on Friday, if not next week. He has gotten me sick as well. I tried to go to work yesterday, which was a disaster, and today I feel marginally better, but not as good as Nyles.

I should be writing the press release my brother asked me to write, but I'm just not feeling up to it yet. But what I AM up to doing is recording and narrating yet another video of my son. I know my friends, family and others are annoyed at the barrage of videos I seem to be recording and posting, but I can't say I really care. I enjoy it way more than writing about the details of my mundane life..

And now, more Nyles:



Friday, May 25, 2012

Two follow up stories to yesterday's elaborate Starbucks incident. One, that woman who I got into it with, is a new employee in my building, and I saw her as I was leaving for the day. I didn't speak and neither did she, but eventually one of us will have to say something..perhaps I'll take the high road. And two, this morning after I got my hot drink, I spilled it on the bottom of my shirt, my crotch and my shoes..so I guess this means she wins, and I lose.

And now one of my favorite scenes, from one of my favorite movies...

Thursday, May 24, 2012

So I'm in Starbucks paying for my Green Tea Latte and my banana, while listening to the loud chatter of pretentious people, when I noticed the woman next to me. Her wallet was dangerously close to falling out of her pocketbook, but she didn't notice because she was on her cellphone talking at deafeningly loud volumes. It was my intention to say something to her, but her big mouth just made me want to see her take the "L".

I was well on my way to allowing her to take that "L", when her wallet fell out, and on its way down, it knocked down four cd's (Esperanza Spalding's newest cd, "Radio Music Society" at that) fell on the floor. Since I'm a big Esperanza fan, I couldn't bear to see her cds strewn about the coffee beverage stained floor of Starbucks, so I removed my headphones, and attempted to pick up her wallet and the cds near my right foot (there were two cds that were closer to her right foot).

As I bent down to get the fallen items, apparently this loud woman decided she wanted to get the cds by HER foot..

**sidebar on** When one is trying to pick up items off the floor, there are two schools of thought in terms of what the best practices are. Some people just slightly bend down, and reach for the floor, putting their backs at all kinds or risk, and some people bend their knees all the way down to the floor, and pick up things that way. Keep this in mind **sidebar off**

So I attempted to use the reach method at the same time this woman used the bend down method, which meant on my way to getting the fallen items, I brushed up against her ass. I'm drawing this out for storytelling purposes, but I promise you it happened quickly. Undeterred by the ass brush, I still picked up the cds and her wallet, put the cds back, and attempted to hand her wallet back to her. This woman abandoned HER mission to pick up the cds, snatched the wallet from me, and proceeded to have this classy conversation with me (in front of Starbucks staff and customers):

Her: What the f**k you touch my ass for?

Me: Ma'am I'm sorry, I was trying to pick up your wallet and the cds, and...

Her (interrupting me): Bullsh*t. That don't have sh*t to do with you grabbing my ass, what you that pressed you need to get your cheap thrills on early in the morning?

Me: Ma'am, I just brushed it, and I'm sorry we just bent over at the same time

Her: You probably liked that sh*t, you f**king perv

Me: Look, we both been in line for 10 minutes, if I wanted to grab your ass I'd have been done it. You got your wallet, now get your f**king coffee, and shut the hell up

Her: F**k you

Me: If you drop some more sh*t, I suppose there's always a chance right?

Now at this point, we had an audience, and I was slightly embarassed, so I put my headphones back on and hightailed it out of there. (Plus it was clear I was NOT going to get the last word, as evidenced by the impressive string of expletives she continued to put together as I exited the premises). I really have been living the calm and serene life since Nyles was born, but goddamn, you can't curse me out like that, when I accidentally brushed you, while giving you your fallen wallet. COME ON!

Oh and the cds that were closer to her, were STILL on the floor as I exited. I don't believe in calling my black and white sisters out of their name, so I will allow Compton's Most Wanted to do it for me:






Tuesday, May 22, 2012

When adults are sick, they typically keep going to work (because they have so little leave), and they unintentionally (or sometimes with intent) get at least four or five other people sick in the office. Occasionally you'll get someone who chooses to stay home when the symptoms start to creep up on them, but even then, the preliminary damage has probably been done already. I've dished out some colds, and I've taken in plenty too (that's what she said).

When infants are sick and daycare is involved, the rules rely less on myopic planning, and much more on rigid policies. Nyles was sick yesterday, and the wife and I read the daycare guidelines, which basically said any hint of sickness means the kid cannot enter the walls of the daycare sanctuary. In fact, I'm sure the daycare staff is taught that words like sneeze, cough, and congestion should be viewed in a pejorative light--and frankly I don't blame them. Colds in youngsters spread like wildfire, and before you know it, 20-30 kids are home, which means 20-30 parents are using up hard-earned leave.

So the wife stayed home yesterday, and her and Nyles took turns volleying the cold symptoms back and forth. They were both coughing, sneezing, congesting and mucus-y, and miraculously, I was able to avoid any and all symptoms--until this morning. Nyles and the wife are home again (with my father-in-law, who will surely be sick by the time he leaves), and I'm at work sniffling and blowing my nose (not at the same time). I seemed to have temporarily staved off the coughing part, but I'm sure that's coming. This of course means that without investing in some rouge cold-stay-the-hell-away techniques, I will be spending my three-day Memorial Day weekend, all jacked up. I'd like to thank young Nyles and the wife for that.

Speaking of Nyles, here we are last Monday after his bath. And yes, in the top left hand corner of the picture, you can see half of Michael Jackson's Thriller album cover. I have it framed in my bathroom. And for those of you who read my blog, are photogs (I think at least three of you are), and hate these kinds of camera pics, please know that me, Nyles, my dad and my older son Carlton will be taking "official" pics this summer, which will be coming to a corny Christmas card near you very soon.





Saturday, May 19, 2012

Five years ago this morning, I woke up to 34 missed calls and 10 voicemails--one of which was my landlord telling me there was a fire in my apartment and I needed to come home ASAP (I just happened to stay at an ex's house that night). Of course I later learned I lost everything except the laptop I am currently typing on, and my life changed forever, eventually for the better. Still, I would be lying if a day goes by when I don't think about an article of clothing I used to have, that 12" Bonita Applebum record I haven't replaced, pictures that are gone, furniture I purchased, etc. On the flip side, prior to the fire, I was engaged in some reckless behavior that needed to be reeled in big time. I know Don Henley tells us that we should never look back, but to some degree I'll always do it. I just won't dwell on it too long, which is why the length of this entry wills remain at one paragraph.

Also, read the article I helped to write. I don't want to end on a low note.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

I have been floundering around the workforce since 1997, and during that time I have tried to follow certain rules. I don't discuss too much about my personal life, I don't do group lunches, I don't drink coffee brewed in the office and most importantly I do NOT put up pictures. It isn't like I haven't had people who are picture frame worthy in my life over those years, because from my parents, to my brother, to my oldest son, I definitely have. But if I had placed those framed pictures on any of the work desks I had over the years, I would have fallen into the trap.

First a co-worker would come over and look at the picture, and then pick it up off the desk and bring it closer to their eyes like Mr. Pitt.. Then they would ask me questions about who was in the picture, where they are, how old are they, how much I look just like whoever is in the picture, and they may even attempt to regale me about stories from their own life. Next thing I know, 20-30 minutes would have elapsed, and I would still be ensconced in a figure eight of small talk--and that's all with just one person. Imagine if three or four people came in during the course of the day. Rashad would get upset.

But yesterday when I got home, my wife had pictures of Nyles and our wedding on the table with accompanying frames. She suggested I take some framed photos to work and put them on my desk, and I attempted to give her the abridged version of what I wrote in the first two paragraphs. She ignored me, put a picture from our wedding in a frame (the one of Nyles didn't fit the frame), and put it in my work bag (which already contained crackers and rhymes).

This morning I came to work and put the picture up on my desk for all to see. It has been up about an hour and I only had one visitor, and he ignored it. If it stays that way, the picture will remain. If I get heckled, I'm taking it down..and as I was trying to finish typing that sentence a second co-worker came in and said something. I may have to disappoint the wife..

Wednesday, May 09, 2012

My grandfather died back in February, and since my mother did not want my grandmother to be all alone, she decided to move my grandmother in with her--in fact she completed the move two weeks ago. And judging from the phone and email conversations I've had with her during that two-week span, my 80-year old grandmother is thoroughly kicking my 60-year old mother's ass.

You see my grandmother is suffering from dementia, which means she forgets, she's cranky, she's depressed over things she can no longer do, and as difficult as all of that is, she still is grieving over the recent loss of her husband of 40 years. Meanwhile my mother has a very difficult job at her university, that has been kicking her ass for 2 years now. When you add in your sick mother who worked your nerves before her sickness, it is just an impossible situation. But I know they are both powering their way through. But this isn't about them.

This year is my wife's first mother's day, and I want to spend it with her and Nyles, so I won't be able to take that trek to Cleveland to visit my mother. And since my grandmother cannot travel either, that means that I will have to send my mother gifts and flowers. And usually that is no problem. But this year, since her and my grandmother are shacking up, I have to send two different arrangemetns

**sidebar on** A special shout out to my lazy ass brother. I asked him to pick an arrangement to send to either my mother or grandmother, and he just told me to pick two, and he'd pay me back. Good job brother.**sidebar over**

Anyway, I'm not sure what the hell I'm going to do in terms of sending arrangements. Do I send them the same thing? Do I send a slightly better arrangement to my mother, or do I respect my elders and give my grandmother the better one? I have no effing clue here.


Friday, May 04, 2012

A couple of months ago my wife looked at me and said that she would NOT allow our son to watch the Wiggles, and at the time I just basically shrugged my shoulders and said whatever. I knew it was something kid-related, and at that time I was in absolute denial about the prospect of having to watch, screen and analyze that type of programming. Of course, a day after that, I found myself knee deep in all kinds of kiddie tv, but I still didn't come across the infamous Wiggles.

But last week I saw these four gentlemen called the Wiggles on my television, and I was deeply disturbed. These four full grown men (I wouldn't be surprised if they were my age) were singing, dancing, and prancing around my television in outfits that looked like rejects from Star Trek's USS Enterprise . I didn't take the time to truly listen to what they were saying, and I DID notice that young Nyles was pretty captivated, and I was disturbed. I figured out instantly what my wife did not like about these gentlemen--they just looked like they were a Chris Hansen visit away from being thrown in jail for unsavory acts. I hate to be cynical, but damn.

And then I found myself wondering what kind of action they get socially. Can you go in a bar and say you're a member of the Wiggles, and get the ladies hot? Or if they are on the other team, do the other men of the ghey, look at them and their profession and think that they are prime catches? I have no idea what their collective salaries are, and maybe if I did, I'd know exactly how they do in the social arena. But still, it is deeply disturbing to know my son may get hooked on them.

Tuesday, May 01, 2012

My friend Janelle has business called "Designs of a Butterfly", where she designs greeting cards, invitations, and other magical things that I'm sure she doesn't even realize she can do. Go visit her site and buy something please.
So last night the Knicks lost to the Miami Heat for the second time in three days, and afterwards, Amar'e Stoudemire was so upset, that he threw a punch at a glass fire extinguisher case, which required serious medical attention. The classy, but funny headline writers at the NY Daily News countered with this headline


I could not help but think back to February of 2007, when I got into an argument with my then-girlfriend (not my wife), and I hit a wall in my house, and fractured my left hand in two places. One moment of anger cost me 8 weeks of being a cast/ace bandage. I had to quit my flag football team, I couldn't really write anything, my co-workers thought I had hit my girl, and not the wall, and it was just big bag of wrong. To top it off (Starks got ejected), my doctor at the time told me, "Rashad, the wall always wins in those situations", and I couldn't even get mad because he was right.

My then-relationship pretty much ended after that, but a few months later, me and my healed hand re-connected with a lady who would later become my wife, so who is the f**king winner here? Ok maybe not. But the point is, I feel Amar'e's pain, because a) he's way more famous than I'll ever be, b)he probably will cost his team a quicker exit than they would have had if he was healthy, and c)he'll have to wear the Scarlet "L" on his chest all summer. I also feel sorry for him because he's wearing nasty looking cornrows in 2012, but that's his challenge.



Monday, April 30, 2012

No words today, but here is an excellent article on Samuel L. Jackson from this weekend's NY Times.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Nyles had a follow up appointment with the Ear, Nose and Throat doctor at 8am. Nyles, the wife and I left the house at 7:30, and arrived at the doctor's office my 7:55. We filled out the paperwork, and we were called back around 8:05. They took Nyles' temperature, listened to his heartbeat, weighed the little fella, and then put us in the waiting room around 8:15. The doctor's assistant asked us some prelimiary questions, looked in Nyles' ears, and then told us the doctor would be with us "shortly", and she pulled the door closed behind her.

After 20 minutes, the wife was irate, and she opened the door, then peered her head out, looking for someone to scream on--and the nurse just happened to walk by. As the nurse began to explain that the doctor was late arriving, the doctor walked right in behind her. Of course the doctor was nice, gave great advice, and was out of there in less than 10 minutes, but the damage had already been done, and the wife and I were already pissed. Why get to an appointment early when it will at least an hour to complete it? And why do doctor's consistently get away with this b.s.?

My short term solution? I am going to start stealing items from the doctor's office. A syringe here, band-aids there, a stethoscope, gauze and maybe even an eye chart. Then the doctors and nurses will be scared to leave me alone for an extended period of time, and I'll get quick and efficient service right before I do jail time. It is worth the risk.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Thanks to Questlove, I now know Michael Jackson and the Jacksons didn't do the original:

Monday, April 23, 2012



You have to watch the above video, otherwise nothing I say from here on out will make sense. This will probably only be funny to my wife, since we spent many (drunken) hours on Saturday night (our first overnighter without Nyles) laughing about this video.

1) The part where he is dancing by himself on some kind of balcony is just flat out funny to me. I have mimicked that dance for my wife many times, except I do it with my thumbs up, with no sunglasses and there is plenty of determination on my face

2) I'm a fan of Bruce Bruce (not really) and I'm a fan of Anthony Anderson, but for Kem to include them in a video as his running mates is just odd and completely random.

3) Kem looks just like Lex Steele, which makes the video that much more hilarious. If you don't know who Lex Steele is google from your phone if you're at work.

4) There's no way Kem can pull Goapele the way he does in this video. Or maybe I'm hating.

5)It bothers me when a brother doesn't have any facial hair. Get a soul patch, an Artis Gilmore or something. You can't be running around looking smooth like a seal.


This could possibly be the most inside baseball blog I've ever written. But it's funny to me (and my wife)./

Friday, April 20, 2012

Please let me know if I'm being petty. The background? My manager is calling a 3pm meeting today for everyone in the office, and afterwards, I'd like to meet with my staff to discuss an upcoming project.



My email: After our meeting today, would you mind sticking around, so I can go over an upcoming project? I won’t take more than 5-10 minutes of your time.


A co-worker's email response: Cool beans


My response: Cool beans?


His retort: I don’t mind sticking around after our meeting to go over the upcoming project.


I didn't respond. Am I crazy for wanting some semblance of professional email decorum? If we were talking and he said that, I wouldn't mind (although I've never used that expression, I don't judge guys who do). But on a work email? Come on dude...

Thursday, April 19, 2012

In this latest Nyles video, we learn that he can kick off his socks with great skill and speed. I would say something about my wife's narration, but I have to sleep next to her every night.
I am a little late with this recommendation, but if you like jazz--specifically the sax and the piano--then go buy Branford Marsalis and Joey Calderazzo's collaboration entitled, "Songs of Mirth and Melancholy". The title is a dead giveaway in terms of the types of songs on there, but it is awesome. I listened last night and again this morning. That's all for now.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Nyles' daycare is closed thanks to DC Emancipation Day and thanks to an unreliable babysitter, I am spending my second consecutive Monday at home with the youngster. He is currently eating his feet while I am typing this, after being rudely awakened by the loud voice of my mother (who just left). Good times.

This past weekend, my older son Carlton was in town, and we took a trip to the barbershop the way we always do. He wears his hair longer, so he just got a mild shape up, while I got my usual close cut. At the end of his haircut, the barber held a mirror in front of Carlton, and asked him if he liked the cut, and he said yes. Before I paid the barber, I asked Carlton if he liked the cut, and he said yes, I asked him if he was sure, and he said yes again. This was at 10am on Saturday.

Yesterday at noon, when he arrived back home and got off the train, his mother saw his haircut and did not like it at all. She asked my son if he liked it, and he said, "Not really". Two seconds later his mother called me up and started bitching and moaning about why I allowed my son to get a haircut he didn't like. I let her talk, and then I told her that Carlton is 14 going on 15, and if he doesn't like something, he needs to speak the f**k up. I want him to wear his hair short, he likes it longer, which means that HE controls the way his hair is cut, not me. She disagreed, we argued, I won, and that was it. My son knows better, or at least I thought he did. Now he has to use his own money to fix something that he could have spoken up and had me pay for...he'll learn though.

In the meantime, more Nyles

Friday, April 13, 2012

My older son Carlton is coming to visit today, and he's staying until Sunday morning. My mother will be staying with me Sunday, and she'll be leaving Monday afternoon, which means this will be a weekend of family. Young Nyles will be the center of attention, and my wife and I will have to simply move out of the way--which is fine with us. I doubt Carlton will care, because he's 14 and in his own little world. But I do have a bit of an issue.

Carlton has discovered the joys of pleasuring himself, and his mother has caught him at least three times in the past month alone. I don't mind that he does that because it is perfectly and natural to (discreetly) get that done, but I don't want any accidents. Nyles is everywhere and my mother is coming in town, and an ignored, lost or undiagnosed "accident" that is found at the most inconvenient of times could be tragic, and downright embarrassing. I need to figure out a way to tell my son to put a moratorium on that this weekend without embarrassing him. Or he can do like his father and handle those things in the shower, where the operation is quick, efficient and clean.

Good times.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

This never gets old...
The daughter of one of my wife's friends reached out to me yesterday, and asked for me some assistance with getting into the sports business. She heard that I wrote for True Hoop, and figured I had some light to shed on how to get started. I basically the exact same thing Michael Wilbon told me way back in 2000: Read as many sports books as humanly possible by GOOD authors, write every day, and be able to talk eloquently about many different sports. He also told me to never ask anybody famous about how to "get on" anymore, and I did not. I told this girl to give me a couple writing samples, so I could see what kind of talent she has. She's only a junior in college (Towson), but she's looking for some kind of break and/or internship, so at the very bottom of her email she attached her resume--and that's when I felt old.

Honestly, college students shouldn't even be able to construct resumes, because everything on there is related to high school, summer internships or extracurricular activities like clubs, athletics, etc. I looked at her resume, and it said class of 2013, along with a whole host of college clubs she belonged to, and I immediately realized that I am almost 20 years older than this girl. The chasm between our ages certainly doesn't seem that sizable, when you consider I can still vividly remember each and every (il)legal, ill-advised thing I did at Hampton University. I still talk to friends of mine, and when we wax nostalgic, it feels like 5-10 years ago, not 20. And it definitely doesn't feel like enough time has gone by for a 19-year old to be talking to me about her college years. I'll get over it though.

The flip side to being old? This little girl in Starbucks (she can't be older than 22) has a crush on me, and she keeps giving me my Soy Green Tea Latte for 45 cents (normal retail value: $5.34). I'll take that all day long..

Oh to you jackasses on facebook, twitter, and other places saying sh*t like "We did it" and "We won" just because George Zimmerman was arrested, please get a hold of yourself. "We" didn't have our son brutally murdered and "We" can still be outraged when and if he walks away with what "you" deem an insufficient punishment, and then "you" will sit on your ass in your living room when "they" start rioting, revolting and reacting to that verdict. This battle is far from over, and I am sorry I violated my self-imposed gag order on this subject, but the rejoicing I've been reading is just a bit ridiculous. Kind of like the people who were happy to see OJ Simpson arrested only to see him walk a year and a half later.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Well, my day with Nyles was not that bad at all, in fact it was kind of fun. We watched the Disney channel, we went for a walk, we watched golf highlights, we listened to Poncho Sanchez and Terence Blanchard, and we read two books: "Where is Baby's Belly Button?" and "I'm Back for More Cash"

The belly button book was especially challenging, because it required me to lift up a part of the page to reveal a (clean) body part of the baby. Nyles was all into the story while I was talking, but once I struggled to lift up a part of the page, he would lose interest and start looking at other things in the room. Then I had to reel him back in by putting the damn book in his face, and he'd laugh and try to eat my fingers, and it was a big production. This went on about 5 times, and the book is only 5 pages long. But we made the magic happen. The other book was full of words he couldn't possibly understand, but I like to read it to him anyway just in case he's a genius.

Right before his mother got back home, Nyles got all hysterical and starting crying, kicking and screaming before falling asleep peacefully. And of course when he woke up and saw mom, he smiled and laughed..little bastard. But overall, it was good times, and I really wish I could maintain my current work salary, while watching Nyles all day long.

Sunday, April 08, 2012

Nyles' daycare is closed tomorrow, and the wife is fresh out of leave, so it is just Nyles and I all day tomorrow. We are going to the park, we are going to register him for swim lessons (he'll start later on in the summer pending the doctor's approval), we'll listen to the Tony Kornheiser show, and we'll read books. It'll be a fabulous time I'm sure..wish me luck.

Wednesday, April 04, 2012

The latest article I contributed to. The Wizards' season is almost over, and next year (when the Wizards possibly get THIS guy), everyone will be on their jock, so show that you're a real genuine fan(they don't exist) by reading and commenting on all things Wizards-related right now.

Tuesday, April 03, 2012

I would like to send a special shout out to the three church employees who were standing out in front of my son's daycare this morning. You saw me carrying my son, his diaper bag and an extra package of diapers. All three of you looked me dead in the face, said "Praise the Lord, and good morning!", and I nodded my head and said good morning right back (I passed on the Lord praising). You then proceeded to watch me struggle with the door, while holding three items including a baby, without any of you lifting so much as a finger. And why did you do this? A woman with a big ass was walking towards her car, and you all were mesmerized with your mouths open.

You all completely forgot about the looking-at-the-sun rule which says you take one look at a big ass (or cleavage), make a mental picture, and then look away. Or if you're lucky enough to stare at the ass or cleavage via a mirror or a window, then you jump on that. But you don't stare at an ass in front of a church, and you damn sure don't do that when your fellow brother is struggling. Shame on you all.

Friday, March 30, 2012

Today's guest blog entry is brought to you by my wife:


I see how people start blogs based on their life and events surrounding them. Marriage, Baby, Divorce, Pregnancy etc. Every time I think of starting one based on something like say when Rashad & I got married or being pregnant and becoming parents together, the thought exhausts me. I try to gently tell people that no one gives a rat’s ass about their wedding or baby like they do. It’s the truth. Tell me when to show up to your ceremony or when the kid’s here. I don’t want to see every little effing detail about how your tent cards arrived and some were eggshell and some were taupe and now you have to find tent cards that are all either/or. No one cares – trust me. Rashad and I nearly did the whole wedding ceremony thing but mercifully he heard me explaining to a relative why this one and that one wouldn’t be invited to the super small ceremony we had in mind. The next thing I know within a week we’d booked a wedding beach planner and room in Miami – and no one was invited.

While I continue to shun then seriously consider the mom blog I may start, I’ll just continue enjoying my husband’s for now. Though his recounting of some of our parenting foibles are a little skewed. Perhaps, its perception VS. reality Matt.

There are a lot of things I just shut up and let go on as far as Mr. Nyles is concerned. Once I had him, I have to relinquish control over how some things are done so my husband will continue to be a willing and active participant. Sort of like the bed making but not really. I don’t go behind him and fix things where the baby is concerned. Luckily, Nyles is a little boy and will never require getting his hair done – I don’t guess – I mean if he wants to wear barrettes and a headband someday I’m okay with that. But hopefully for his sake he’ll never need for his dad to do his hair because I’m sure that would be one hotbed of shittyness. Let’s take a fine look and Rashad’s pampering shall we? So, with the diapering – there’s really not an issue with it being wrong so much as Rashad has a style. I think he thinks the “fold-back” with making the bed is a style but it ain’t. You can always tell when Rashad’s changed Nyles because the two fasteners will be crisscrossed in the front. That’s his move. Like and X marks the spot. You’ve been officially stamped with freshness. Yeah he really likes the crisscross and is quite proud of it. I don’t know why I find it particularly funny but I do.

This isn’t all about Rashad’s quirky habits though. I’d be miss and remiss if I didn’t share some of my own. Like waking up when he’s slept longer than three hours to see why he isn’t waking me up. I did that oh about three times last night at midnight, one and two am. Finally, at 2:30am he woke up as if to say let me give this lady some business. Crazy.

About two weeks ago we tried for three weeks to unsuccessfully sleep train Nyles. He wasn’t having it and every place I read, tells me that it was too early to have been attempting it anyway. I hated every single minute and was uptight, cried and agitated every night we tried it. Now he goes to sleep after eating but still in my arms. I realize we’ll have to try this again in a month or so but I am against crying it out unless I’m the crier.

I appreciate those of you who have sent a prayer along for us to get through the first day of daycare. Boy was that a nightmare. Nice timing on my part to return to work and have his first day of daycare on the day after my birthday. I had approximately four or five crying fits on that day alone. That’s not counting the times I had complete breakdowns in the couple of weeks leading up to it. I’m much better now but still would like to take this time to shamelessly request the services of a super in-home caregiver for Master Nyles who speaks English, doesn’t cost the same as a monthly house payment and won’t steal my underwear. Anyone? Anyone?

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

My latest article is here.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

My lovely wife found this pic of me trying to burp Nyles, when he was just a few days old...

So yesterday I took young Nyles to take care, I signed him in, I dropped off his diaper bag, gave him his medicine, and then I realized I forgot his bottles. The first thing I said, out loud, in this fine church establishment was, "Sh*t!". I had to go all the way back home in traffic to get the bottles, then I had to come back in more traffic, and deliver the bottles. I was late for work, and basically thrown off the whole next day--but I got over it.

Today, I brought all the materials necessary for Nyles to have a a great day at daycare, and I apologized to the nice daycare lady for cursing. She claimed not to hear me (I don't know how that's true) and she said to me, "Yes, we don't do that here in the house of the Lord." I apologized again for that and forgetting the bottles and I left. But the defiant side of me wanted to curse again, because of the condescending tone she laid on me. But I was wrong, she was right, and that's just one of those things that you have to eat---that's what she said. Not to mention, I can't piss of the daycare staff taking care of my beloved son.

So Nyles in indirectly involved in me learning the art of restraint..I'm sure it will all unravel as he gets older.