tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31413491.post1966069039258889241..comments2023-08-21T03:50:45.499-04:00Comments on Synchronicity: rashadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01384684218145041166noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31413491.post-43911837112907327992006-12-18T16:16:00.000-05:002006-12-18T16:16:00.000-05:00DAYYYMMNNNN! That sure was a good fight. I couldn'...DAYYYMMNNNN! That sure was a good fight. I couldn't help but notice the privileged white guy who was running scared. (Literally!) Stupid bastard . . . he didn't even realize he was a part of a historic event. I can't remember seeing anything like that on the b-ball court. At least not these days when fines and penalties are set so high! It sucks not being rich, white, and male sometimes. Or should I add at times like these. Had that been me sitting there, I would have used that as an opportunity to take a punch at one of them (depending on which was my favorite team) and then I would have told all my friends and my future kids what I had done. It would have been phenomenal . . . of course, for months all of my family and friends would have been like, "Jo we saw you on TV. Tell us what happened." And that would give me the wonderful opportunity to tell the play by play all over again. But, since I am NOT white, privileged, or male, and since I was NOT at that particular game sitting in a floor seat, I don't have the honor of that beautiful story. Oh well, guess those are the breaks sometimes.<br /><br />As for your friend, I dare one of my friends to question my availability. Sometimes we just are busy. I have friends that I play phone tag with for months, but when we do catch up it's all the better. I mean sh%# get a life. If your friend was out there having a life of her own, she wouldn't be stressing about you having YOUR own life - she'd be having a damn good time herself. 'Sides . . .the call 'em friends for a reason . . .it's because they don't go away. I tell ya . . .please comfort your friend, let her know that of course you are her friend even if you don't talk to her regularly, and then gently tell her that her insecurity is embarrasing, especially since you aren't fucking her(you aren't are you?). And then a little less gently, tell her that you are a grown man and she ain't your momma, so you can do whatever you damn well PLEASE and if she doesn't stop nagging you YOU really WON'T be friends!<br /><br />As for HR 57. You really need to hang out with me more often. That was my old hang out spot in DC. The reason why you can BOB is because they didn't have a liquor license at one point. Now they sell beer and some wines, but they still don't serve hard liquor. You should check them out Wednesdays and Thursdays. They have open mic night. It's really great. The food is pretty good, too. The collards and the fried chicken will take you back to your southern roots - 'cause you know we all have them - we didn't start here in the north. Glad you checked it out. And if you ever invest in that horn, you can always go there and blow a bit (;o) during open mic night. Just be sure to let me know . . .I wouldn't miss it for the world!Johttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06932795888220438801noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31413491.post-77661136095024279252006-12-18T11:15:00.000-05:002006-12-18T11:15:00.000-05:00what's stopping you from picking up the trumpet ag...what's stopping you from picking up the trumpet again?Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com