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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now, a selection by Mr. Shakur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I"m putting this entry out of its misery now

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

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

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

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

And now..I'm done

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am still pissed and my situation is unchanged, and there comes a point, where you are so angry that all you can do is laugh. A weird calm comes over you, that is downright eerie. I could crack a joke right now just as quickly as I could steal someone square in their jaw. But I've done all that I can do right now, and I still think this entire situation will work out in my favor sooner rather than later; however, today and yesterday have showed me that there are some things that I absolutely DO not care to hear when I'm going thru a situation like this. Such as:

1)"I'll pray for you"..My mother is the biggest violator in this department but there are others. If you are going to pray for me, then just do that shit. Don't announce it to me, because chances are I'm just not trying to hear that. I'm not saying prayer isn't effective, but when i'm pissed or irritated, your declaration of this action ain't helping. I realize in my last entry I asked folks to send good vibes, but that's something that can be done without me hearing or reading about it man. If that sounds hypocritical so be it

2) Don't go down a list of things I SHOULD do..chances are I have already done the things you are suggesting. I did go to college, and I do have a certain degree of intelligence, so I am perfectly capable of troubleshooting in a difficult situation. Plus if I'm telling you my problem, it's because I want to keep you informed, or you asked me. I'm not telling you my problems to get solutions

3) Don't ask me what's wrong every five minutes..that's like asking are we there yet..the shit ain't changed since the last time you asked, and hell no I'm not alright.

That's all I can think of right now. I know this email sounds angry as hell, but that's where I am. Writing is the best way to maintain sanity right now. I could drink or pray (in that order), but I'm saving that for later just in case shit gets worse. I do appreciate the kind comments i've gotten. very much so.

There are times when writing this blog and my feelings that go with it are easy and damn near cathartic. And then there are other times when it is downright painful to write about something, because you know folks will have a million and one questions. This is one of those times. I am not going to answer questions about this, but I need to vent. I have yet to see my son, and I am not at all happy about it. The number where he stays is temporarily disconnected, and it is pissing me off more than I can properly articulate. Hopefully by tomorrow, I'll have an answer to this problem. I have an address, but he is on an Air Force base, so I can't just march on there looking for him. If you happen to read this, just send some good vibes up for me, because right now, I don't have any. None at all.

Last night while watching ESPN, I saw a brief story on how legendary golfer Byron Nelson had passed away at the age of 94. While I was watching the story, I thought to myself, that no one should really be sad when someone dies after age 90. Not to be mean, but once you reach 90, you are basically operating on borrowed time anyway. Chances are you've lived a full life, you possibly have kids, grandkids, great grandkids, etc. The sexual chapter of your life has LONG since been over, but you can still look and reminisce on the wonderful tricks you USED to be able to do, and you really don't have worries...that's ideally. The downside is that you could be totally dependent on others, you could be in a nursing home with other crazy old folks, or you could be missing a spouse or relative who you've outlived. Either way, I generally don't get sad once someone passes at 90, and especially not at age 94. From what I've read, Mr. Nelson had a full life, and I'm sure he woke up yesterday, and was like ok that's quite enough of this. The notion of that actually makes me smile.

Even though I'm 31, the idea of going to the airport is STILL exciting to me. I like to go to the gate about 2 hours early, and just people watch. You see people frantically running through the airport like OJ in a Hertz commercial..and then you see other people kissing and hugging a loved one who is either leaving or returning. And occasionally you see people who look like they are cheating on their spouse..Good times indeed! The airport is one of those places like the DMV, because it is the great equalizer. Everyone has to get stripped down at security, and everyone is at the mercy of the pilots and airport staff in general. It can very humbling..

Honestly, I am very excited about going out of town and seeing my son, so I really don't have a lot on my mind except that. So if my blog sucks today, then that's my excuse. Perhaps tomorrow, after a day of travel, I'll have more exciting events to speak on.

On my way into work this morning, I played this song from Spike Lee's movie, Crooklyn that came out in 1994. This song has nothing to do with my mood or anything, its just a damn good song entitled Crooklyn Dodgers.

Ok, so I have a confession to make. After all that jazz I talked about the Monday Night Football game, not really being much more than a game, I found myself caught up in the moment last night. The juxtaposition of the depressing scenes from 13 months ago, with the frenzied fans who occupied the Superdome last night was quite moving. But as Spike Lee said during his brief appearance in the booth, last night was good, but it is what happens from this point on that is important. I'm not going to go on a rant here today, because I've discussed this subject ad nauseum. But what I WILL bitch about is the decision to include U2 and Green Day in the "Welcome back New Orleans" celebration. I must say I'm not a U2 fan anymore, but I used to be in the mid to late 80s. And Green Day has never tickled my fancy, but I hold no grudge against them at all. But considering the game was in New Orleans, it seems to me better pre-game and halftime acts could have been chosen. They could have picked a teen marching band, Harry Connick Jr., the Marsalis Brothers, Lil Wayne(just kidding), or even some musicians that embodied the New Orleans spirit. Instead they chose two rocks bands..good acts, bad timing.

So tomorrow I leave for a trip to Arizona to see my son Carlton..finally. I must say I have all kinds of mixed feelings about the trip. Don't get me wrong, I am happy to see him, and I can't wait to get into all types of activities with him. But for a long distance parent, there is always a moment of nervousness. I worry that he may resent me for being so far away, and not there the way his stepfather is..I wonder if he'll start to probe deeper into the reasons why his mother and I never were together..and then of course I'll wonder how long it'll take him to completely warm up to me again. I'm probably overthinking these things as usual, but I can't help it. I never take for granted the fact that I'm a parent of a handsome young man, but it still hurts at times that I've missed so much of his life, due to distance and other circumstantial crap. But for a few days, I will put all that aside, and just make the best out of the situation. That's the least I can do.

I am also having mixed feelings about my 10 year anniversary Hampton University homecoming that is coming up in October. Initially, I was gung ho about seeing old friends, going to a game for the first time in awhile, and just being in that atmosphere. But now I don't know. Some of my good friends are either preoccupied with familial obligations, or they just aren't interested, and this has curbed my enthusiasm a great deal. There's nothing wrong with recreating that college magic for a weekend, but the reality is that was 10 years ago, and EVERYONE has changed. Still, I think it'll be fun. As you can see, I dont know what the hell I'm going to do. I think if Carlton were with me, I'd definitely go, take him to the game, and let him see firsthand how uncool his father was in college.

A few people have come to me for relationship advice over the past few days, and it completely blows my mind. I have had minimal success in relationships, yet I'm able to give little nuggets of wisdom to people. I wonder if they ever look at me and say yeah right whatever, and then do the opposite of what I say.

And now, a selection by Sting entitled: Dienda .
While I'm at it, here's the same song, done differently by Branford Marsalis: Dienda, Part deux.

I had a pretty interesting day on Saturday. It started off with me helping a friend of mine move, which is always a pain in the ass. I had no problems helping her, but moving in general is a pain, and I know this because I had to do it earlier this year. You have to get boxes, tape, decide what you're going to pack, and what you're going to leave out, and then there's the truck rental, etc. So I walked into her place ready to help, but dreading the overall process. But lo and behold, when I came to the door, she had on a tank top that I could see directly through..I saw her entire chest, and then I saw it again while we were bending over and lifting things. I didn't act on this at all, but I cannot lie and say I made any effort to turn away. She didn't have a big chest, but it was definitely nice to look at. Very shapely. Most time when I move, I am moving with dudes, and seeing breasts and nipples is not a viable option. So right away I was energized for the move.

Later on that day, one of her friends asked me if I had all the money in the world, what would be the first thing I would do, and I responded by saying I'd buy a sports franchise. But then that question got me thinking, what is my ideal job? If I had the power to construct my own job description what would I do? And here it is:

1)I'd have a sports radio show everyday from 10-1. Sports would be the basis of the show, but topics could include music, politics and anything besides sex. A sex talk show attracts a kind of person, that I wouldn't want to interact with on a daily basis

2) I'd like to write a column for a major newspaper. I wouldn't want to be a beat reporter, because that requires a lot of work. I'd want to pick a sports topic, and then write about it..Columinists don't get published everyday, so this would be about 3 to 4 times a week, depending on what was going on in the world of sports

3) I'd like to teach ONE writing class at a major university. This would allow me to satisfy my teaching jones, help to feel young by being around youthful talent, and this would also increase my honorarium should I choose to do any public speaking. I'd show up to class everyday smoking a pipe too..

4) And finally, at night, during basketball season, I'd like to be an NBA referee. This has ALWAYS been a fantasy of mine. This job is rather strenuous, but it would keep me in shape and give me a front row seat to the game of my choice. So there you have it. Somebody help me make it happen!!

Anyway, later on that Saturday, I spent a few hours with an older friend of mine talking about life, work and everything in between. It is interesting sometimes to get perspective on life from older men and women(who aren't your parents). I enjoyed it immensely.

The highlight of the weekend will actually be tonight, when the Atlanta Falcons play the New Orleans Saints in the Superdome tonight. The media is having a field day with the notion that a football game is being played at the very Superdome, where Katrina's victims sought refuge. While that story is poignant, and a damn good one, I could care less about that at this point. There is lots of work to be done, and a football game, while I"m sure it is a welcome distraction for some, doesn't take my mind off of that. The REAL reason I am hyped about tonight's game, is that I get to see Michael Vick and Reggie Bush square off. This should be very interesting.

By the way, to those folks who get bored when I write about sports, you all can kiss my entire black ass two times. Sports isn't my entire life, but its 65% of it.

I'd like to take a bit of time to write about YOU. I know at some point during the week, if not everyday, you click on the link to my blog, and read all about what is going on with me. You may be that person who reads faithfully, but never really sees it necessary to comment; or you may be that nosy person, who just wants to see what Rashad is up to, without really having to talk or email him. There's a touch of voyeurism in you, and this blog feeds that fetish. Or maybe you're a bitter to semi-bitter ex of mine in some capacity, who reads hoping you'll find something you can gloat on the inside about, but instead you find something that hurts your little bullshit feelings. Or maybe you appreciate this blog, and you like my writing, but you're way too shy to comment. Or finally, maybe you're an egotistical bastard who reads, and then wants to comment, you forgot your password, so rather than post anonymously, you don't post a comment at all because then no one will be able see that you commented. To each one of you, hello, and leave a comment please. It's free and most importantly, if you don't leave a comment, you must be a terrorist, and I will strike down upon thee with furious vengeance

After a 3 week hiatus, I finally talked to my dad yesterday. It puzzles me that he almost NEVER calls me. And then as soon as I call, he says you know I was just thinking about you..I'm like then pick up the phone man. My grandmother told me one day that the onus is always on the child to initiate and maintain contact with the parent, and I suppose that is true..especially since my father is getting older. We had our usual conversation talking about lesbian/straight women, sports, college nostalgia, and how proud he was of my brother for getting married. My father also reiterated that he will NEVER get remarried under any circumstances. He married my mother when he was 23, divorced her at 43, got remarried at 44, and was divorced again by 50. He enjoys his solitude, and says that if he seriously doubts that he'll get lonely. The male side of me admires that, especially in an era when so many people claim that they NEED a partner. But as his son, I worry about him. My father is a proud man, and I would never know if he had health problems, or even if he got lonely, because he wouldn't want to burden me. It wouldn't be so bad if he had a wife or main woman who I could talk to get the lowdown. I don't think its an issue right now, but I think about it. I think every child in their 30s(if not earlier) starts to think about their parents mortality. Yeah I pray and all that jazz, but despite that, I still get very concerned about both my parents as I get older..

Oh, and my brother Jamal reminded me yesterday that I HAVE been sexually whipped before, so I must come clean about that. In the summer of '95, my friend(who is now happily married with two kids) put it on me something fierce for a good 4 months..(2 during the summer, and 2 in the fall). I don't know how I forgot her, but it probably has something to do with our tumultuous breakup. But once my brother reminded me, I remember the entire torrid affair. Every time I count how many people I've had sex with, I always leave her out, and I'm not sure why..

And now, a jazz selection from Moe Koffman entitled: Days Gone By

It is like death and taxes. Every year, as soon as the temperature dips one degree below 60, there is always one jackass(who is usually black) who breaks out the extra thick leather jacket, as if that is their only defense against the chilly weather. No thin coat, no sport jacket, no sweatshirt, they just go straight for the jugular, and wear the thick black leather coat with the hood. Conversely, there is always yet another jackass(who is usually white), who goes the other extreme, and wears short sleeves and shorts, as if the 55-60 degree weather is really a tropical Bermuda climate. Where's the middle ground man? And these people probably NEVER get sick or get the sniffles. Meanwhile, I've been fighting off a cold for about a week now, and I dress appropriately. By the way this reminds of my own personal theory I call the George Burns theory...

George Burns smoked at least 5 or 6 cigars daily for more than three quarters of his life. Conventional wisdom would tell you that he should have been dead by 50 or 60, of some type of lung or respiratory affliction. But no, George Burns lived to be 100 years old, and died of natural causes, basicaly giving the finger to the anti-tobacco folks. So, there are some people who can have unprotected sex all their life, never get AIDS or an STD, but they get hit by a car and die at 55 years old. And then there are others who will get the STD from hell the first time they have sex. This my friends, is the George Burns theory. I'm sure it is flawed and a bit asinine, but I've been explaning this thing for a good 8 or 9 years, and I' m not stopping now.


So yesterday, my friend Nina and I were discussing the effects and differences of whipping someone as opposed to getting whipped. This was not a slavery nostalgia conversation, but it was about sex. She mentioned that in the past, she had a friend who she whipped it on, and as a a result, he has never really stopped chasing her, and apparently he can never get enough of her goodies. I was telling her that he could have very well been the kind of man who consistently puts HIS mojo on women, which means he has a take it or leave it attitude towards sex with that person; however, when the tables are finally turned, that person is in a position of weakness, and moreso than that, they are intrigued by the forbidden fruit..so they keep chasing. I feel like I'm intellectualizing (not a real word) this concept just a bit too much, but i'm a paragraph deep now, I aint stopping. So Nina's friend probably just wants to keep having sex with her until he's "conquered" her, and then he'll abandon ship. This feeds right into the stereotype that men just want a challenge, and once they get it they leave. This is simply untrue.

I have never really been whipped consistently. I've had isolated session when a woman has seriously blown my mind(sometimes literally) so much, that I think about seriously locking her in my apartment, like we were snowed in like The Shining. But I don't know whether I do something wrong, or I've just possibly slept with the wrong people, but I"ve never had anyone do that to me consistently. I've had great sex, but to whip someone is entirely different level. An older cousin of mine back in the day used to tell me that I wouldn't find that level until I got in a serious and committed relationship. I used to find that hard to believe, but there may be some truth to that. Then again, I have a female friend who is in a satisfying, committed relationship, and she said that her best experiences came from a month long fling in college. She said that he was stupid, but for a month long span, he gave her long deep loving, like it was going out of style.

If you're scoring at home (or if you're alone) you'll notice that I have written about sex twice this week. I'm not getting any, and so I'm going to be writing about it more. It is both therapeutic and cathartic for me, and without this expression vehicle called a blog, I would be a crazy crazy man, and no one wants that.

When I was in high school and again in college, I remember reading about a term that W.E.B. Dubois called, "double consciousness". In his book, The Souls of Black Folk, he describes it as: "..this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his twoness,--an American, a Negro; two warring souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder". At various points in my life I have felt what Dubois describes, and my boy Cliff and I were talking about this yesterday.

Cliff is a pilot, and he basically said that as he got off the plane a group of brothers shouted towards him. Since there aren't many black pilots, they were happy to see him, so they showed their love. Instantly, Cliff was in a quandary. Since there are so few brothers who are pilots, he is constantly aware of how he carries himself in public, and how important it is to maintain that image while his uniform is on. And he does this towards white and black employees no matter how high or low they are. At the same time, he can't alienate the brothers either. They may not have been eloquent enough to greet him in the politically correct way all the time, but that doesn't make their greeting any less sincere or genuine. And all the while, Cliff's white co-workers are watching as well to see how he will interact with the brothers. If Cliff lets his guard down too much, the his white colleagues will say, "See, I knew he was one of them". But if he reacts in a muted way, they'll breathe a sigh of relief and say "YES, he's still one of us". And THEN, Cliff doesn't want to be put in a position where he's disrespecting the brothers in front of his white co-workers, because that is just downright humiliating. Now of course I'm generalizing a bit here, but not by much. Now Cliff took the easy way out, and pulled out his cell phone, so that he wouldn't have to acknowledge the brothers..that's an act of avoidance that I have used many times, and Cliff is to be commended for that. There have many times when I have used my cell phone to avoid people and uncomfortable situations. It is a tried and true formula that I highly recommend.

But there have been times when I was in Cliff's predicament with some of the brothers in various mailrooms where I've worked over the years. I had this one situation where this brother from the mailroom would greet me in a loud fashion, totally oblivious to the fact that work was going on, and we were in a work environment. If I ignored him or told him to use his "inside" voice, he would hint that I was a sellout; if I engaged him too much, I'd get funny looks from my co-workers. Now there would be times when I talk to him for about 10-15 minutes, without caring who saw me. I had to be in work mode all day long, and sometimes it was nice to cut loose. But then there were other times, I'd pull him aside and say look man, I'm being watched constantly, you can talk to me, but keep it down. Now some people may say I'm being a snob, or I'm being paranoid, and they can kiss my entire black ass. In SOME workplaces, the margin of error is extremely small, and everything must be accounted for..even double consciousness. Anyway...

So yesterday, I got several comments from people basically telling me that yesterday's entry was boring and it sucked ass. I have mixed feelings about comments like that. On one hand I ALWAYS appreciate any bit of criticism, praise or suggestion. It lets me know folks are reading, and they actually care. But on the other hand, I think its a little unfair to expect that my blog be action packed every damn day. My life is simply not that exciting on a day to day basis, and some days my thought process is just plain boring. And then on other days, I have thoughts of giving and receiving oral sex on my desk during work hours. These things are never planned though, its totally spontaneous. I've come to the conclusion that I'm suffering from what is called the Mary J Blige syndrome. When Mary J Blige was getting hurt, beat up and just overall having a hard time in relationships, her cd's were absolutely great. You could hear the pain in every note, every song, and scorned men and women everywhere fell hook, line and sinker and bought it. And then Mary had the nerve to go and find a man, and get happy, and her cds have been painfully mediocre. Even though everyone wants to be happy, they tend to like their music pain-ridden and miserable, and I guess I'm one of those people. That's why the blues and country music continues to thrive and has such a huge following: They both center around pain and great suffering. Rumor has it that Mary is on the verge of a divorce, which means I need to pre-order her new cd right now.

Basically my point is, my blog seemed to be more exciting when there was some kind of drama going on in my life. Although, as I navigate through this self-discovery period, some interesting thoughts still may run across my mind. So perhaps exciting entries are a-coming after all. I will say this though: I miss steady sex. Oh I miss it with a passion. I can honestly say that since February when my then girlfriend graciously gave it up after the third date, I haven't gone longer than a week without doing it. Unless I get weak or stumble on the Flavor of Love set or something, that isn't happening anytime soon. It gets to the point where I look at people who have really never been all that sexy to me(Suzy Kolber of ESPN fame), and I start thinking of them riding me with reckless abandon. It's really a sad state of affairs. I need to recruit a woman who is my same predicament, and who wants NOTHING but sex for a strong month. Then I'd be sick of it for another month, and all would be well with the world. Sadly, these women do NOT seem to exist in the DC area. (that sentence is a plea in disguise) Plus part of me thinks I'm too old to be settling for that kind of arrangement........yeah right. In the words of immortal Q-Tip, "my mind is in a frenzy and a horny state".

And I'll end my entry with Electric Relaxation. I'll give $100 to anyone who can tell me the chorus to that song.

I had an up and down weekend man. On one hand it was nice to just relax and do things at my own leisure, as opposed to planning for two. But on the other hand, I had to resist the temptation of calling my friend(or anyone else for that matter), and that was a bit difficult. I ended up having a brief text message conversation with her, but that's about it. I must admit I was pretty proud of myself, but it was only one weekend. We shall see what happens.

A female friend and I talked on Friday night, and she told me she was flirting with the idea of taking on a same sex partner. That spawned an interesting conversation on what we expect of a mate when we are in the screening process. She mentioned that while she was in the process of figuring out what she wanted in a woman, in the past she may have placed unrealistic expectations on men. I KNOW I am guilty of this..I can't even begin to recall how many times I expect a woman to be outgoing, when I know I'm not. Or expect her to be affectionate, when I know that's not really my style. I guess the trick is to figure out the balance between someone complimenting you, and expecting someone to compensate for what you don't have. That's a very fine line. But anyway, back to the same sex thing. It is fascinating to me how many women have had lesbian experiences. Personally, I'm all for it, but I've never looked at my boys like that. Not even close.

Other weekend highlights:

-I had lunch with an ex co-worker of mine on Saturday. It is easy to forget how nice it is to have a simple outing with the opposite sex without expectations. I had a damn good time.

-Watching football, and getting lit up off of margaritas with boy Kevin. I mean yeah my beloved Philadelphia Eagles lost, but I barely noticed because we were talking trash. After all these years, nothing really changes. We drink, watch sports, crack jokes and then go home. It sounds simple, but sometimes I forget just how much fun that can be.

-I played basketball for the first time in about two months, and I had a woman guarding me. Very interesting. At first, I was being too delicate with her, and then she started scoring on me. It was obvious that she had played collegiately, because she was quick and had a good shot. I eventually got the upper hand, but she made me work for it. I also was able to "accidentally" rub on her ass, and gently "graze" her chest. Of course this was all in the heat of the battle, but still..I got a workout and a cheap thrill at the same time. Good times.

So this morning I walked past that same short yellow bus that I walked by about two weeks back. It was sunny this morning, instead of raining, and I guess the mood of the kids was much better too. When I walked past the bus, they all pressed their little noses against the window of the bus and waved at me. I enthusiastically waved back to the kiddies as I walked by, and I smiled(ok I was laughing, but my heart was in the right place). After seeing that I felt obligated to have a good day. I'm not just living for me anymore, I'm living for a bus full of short yellow bus kids.

This is the first weekend in a long time I don't have any plans with a woman I'm interested in, and I must say it is a bit refreshing. I am supposed to have lunch with a friend of mine tomorrow, and my boy Kevin is supposed to come in town, but aside from that, no plans. I know there will be a time when that bores me, but on this particular occasion I look forward to it. I can watch both college and professional football, do some writing, some housecleaning, and just relax.

Not much on my mind this morning..just looking forward to this weekend. It's been quite an eventful weekend. I have two more songs to leave as a parting gift. I'm not doing this shit everyday, it just so happens I am moved to do so this week.

Invitation by Norman Connors
Brown Sugar by Mos Def

I know now that getting over a hangover is a day long experience. I went STRAIGHT home after work, shunning a drink outing(sorry 'Nita), and completely forgetting about a lecture I wanted to attend as well. After I ate dinner and slept, I felt much better. I'm definitely laying off liquor for awhile. I'll stick to wine.

I also realized that this week I have neglected to write about Sept 11th and the 10th anniversary of Tupac's passing. I really dont have much to say about Sept 11th anymore. This sounds really insensitive, but the thing I remember most about that day, is that NO sports were on. I mean absolutely none. I remember turning to ESPN Classic, hoping that they would at least show an old game or something, and all I kept seeing was news and coverage of the "terrorist" act. For two straight days I had to endure this, and that combined with the paranoia that was already in place, made for a miserable week. If I admitted that outside the walls of this blog, I'm sure I'd be vilified though.

Watching 2pac during that 1990-1996 span was like watching Kwame Brown play basketball. At time he's display magnificent brilliance, intelligence and vision. And then at other times you'd be frustrated at how clueless he seemed to be at time, or you'd be let down by some of his decision. Either way, he was definitely a intriguing brother, and it's a shame he was taken away before we got to see his true brilliance. His 1995 song So Many Tears, will always be my favorite of his. Ok now I feel better..I covered an entire week of current events in two short paragraphs.

I have no personal drama to report to day. A relatively quiet night has that effect. Just like a rainy morning has this effect: I have decided to assemble a list of my top 5 rain songs(you can tell High Fidelity is one of my favorite movies. So here they are:

5) If You Were Here Tonight by Alexander O'Neal. There really isn't a mention of rain in the whole damn song, but the beat just sounds like something you'd listen to while you're at home or driving in the rain. He actually spends the entire song wishing someone were in his bed with him.

4) Making Love in the Rain by Herb Alpert, Lisa Keith on lead vocals, Janet Jackson on background vocals. Surprise, surprise, this song is all about sex, and everything about the music oozes with sex. Herb Alpert's trumpet, the vocals, and the rain sound effects. I've never actually had sex to this song, but I plan on it. I'll even write about it once I do

3) Pretty Brown Eyes by Mint Condition: The entire song has this teardrop sound to it that sounds just like rain. Very good stuff, despite the sad lyrics.

2) Rain by SWV: They spend the entire song asking their man to allow their love to rain down on them, which is quite a nasty, yet intriguing concept if you ask me. The best part about the song is the fact that it begins and ends with the sound of a downpour. Very sexy stuff.

1) Stranger in Moscow by Michael Jackson: This is actually one of my favorite songs period, but it is definitely my favorite rain song. Apparently, Michael wrote this song while he was in his hotel room alone in Russia. Apparently all of the little boys were sleep, so he figured why not write a song. The song is actually kind of sad, but it sounds like a rain song, and the video was actually shot in the rain, so it adds to whole effect. Great, great song.

I broke my rule last night, and I went out on a weeknight, and I am paying for it dearly this morning. I drank a bit too much last night, and I am now suffering from a rather large hangover. I overslept, I got in to work late for the first time in like 3 years, and I'm even writing my blog about 3 hours later than I normally do. I know better than this, but I must say it felt good to throw caution to the wind last night. I spend so much of my life being quiet, reserved and calculated, and last night I was none of those things. I know my friends Brandon and Nina (and anyone else for that matter) wanted to kick my ass, or kick me out of the venue altogether. Hopefully they will grant me a pass though Yesterday was rough man.

My friend and I parted ways yesterday, and that was a bit disappointing, but I felt it was necessary. I need a break from women for awhile..and not one of those fake breaks where I am still looking for someone on the low. I need a real break to get my head right, and figure out what is really going on. I know that sounds cliched, but it is my reality right about now. It won't kill me to be still for a minute anyway. I can catch up with friends, save some money, and get more in touch with my own genitals. Deep down I wonder if I ever will find someone to make me happy. I've let go lots of women in the past couple of years, and it is mostly due to my lack of patience. I am a little worried that once I am ready to settle down, a woman is going to hurt me and hurt me bad. I've used this analogy before, but its like getting the chicken pox as an adult. When you get chicken pox as a child, it is easier to shake off. You isolate yourself, use calomine lotion, and in a few days you are alright except for some marks on your face. But when you get the chicken pox as an adult, the consequences are much more drastic. It takes longer to shake off, it requires way more attention from a doctor, and in some cases it can be life threatening. I fear the same will happen to me if I get hurt right now. Heartbreak is a part of life, and the fact that I have avoided it a bit unsettling.

I've been doing this blog thing for about 2 months and some change, and I am really curious as to how I come off to people. Do I sound like a bitch? Do I sound conflicted? Does someone read my blog and say, yeah I do that too? I am real curious about that, because every now and then it is nice to know that someone shares your same thought process. Or perhaps this hangover is making me type and think some outrageous shit..who knows.

I have a song in my heart and in my head today. It is by Marvin Gaye, and its called Come Get To This . My boy Kevin told me about this song awhile back, but its in my head today. Enjoy.

I don't know if its irony, unselfishness or what, but about 5 minutes ago I saw a homeless woman using half a loaf of bread to feed some pigeons. Very interesting.

Anyway, I continued my annoying ritual of waking up at 5am, which is about an hour and some change earlier than I really need to be awake. But instead of laying in the bed trying to devise a plot to take over the world, I got up and just happen to stumble on Chris Rock's, 90 minutes of comedic genius entitled, Never Scared. Now I've seen this about 5 times already, and I always catch something new depending on what I'm going through in my life. In one particular section, Chris speaks on three situations one can be in: 1)happy in a relationship and bored and 2) in a bad relationship where drama makes everything exciting 3)single and lonely. Now I am quite sure Chris was oversimplifying to strengthen his joke, but on some level he is definitely on point. I know dudes who are married, love their wife, and are happy, but they miss that level of excitement the single life allegedly brings. Then I know people who are bad relationships, and they are constantly knee deep in some form of drama that they seemingly thrive upon. And then you have those people who are single and in some form of self-exploration that will lead to them being better mates and better people as they continue in their quest for Allah and Justice(ok I made that last part up but you get my point).

I've been the happy, bored relationship man for a hot minute; I also have spent time in the wonderful torture chamber also known as the drama-filled relationship, and I've spent the least amount of time in the reflective, Allah and Justice mode, and that is probably where I belong. But I've been fighting it off like it was grim death. But my recent, day-long scrap with my lady friend has me wondering if I really do need to stop fighting it off..not the grim death part though. I didn't do anything wrong this time, and neither did she, it was just a difference in opinion. But that difference of opinion escalated into an all out jihad against one another. It had the feel of a drama-filled relationship, which was in stark contract to the smooth sailing it had been throughout August and the first week of Sept. And as a friend of mine said to me yesterday, it seems like it is taking a shorter time for you to sabotage your friendship/relationships..which is debatable but probably true. So right now I'm in a reflective mode by default. It makes for good blog topics, but it is annoying to have to be thinking about this kind of stuff again. But as my father says, that is life my man. Deal with it.

Other observations:

-Jamie Foxx is incredibly annoying. He was Monday Night football last night, and instead of just giving a nice humorous interview, he felt the need to be "on", and it was just annoying. For my sake, I hope he's on his 14th minute of fame. Yes he's talented, but I see way too much of him. Of course he could very well say, Who the fuck are you Rashad..

-Tony Kornheiser is rapidly improving in his Monday Night Football role. And he's challenging Joe Theismann more, which is what he should have been doing from the jump

-My beloved Philadelphia Eagles are 1-0, while the rest of the division is 0-1.

-Last night in the barbershop, I witnessed one of those priceless moments. A nice looking woman with a Serena-like ass, walked by the barbershop. Within a second, all 6 barbers stopped cutting and ran to the window to get a front row seat. I chose to set aside my reputation as a leader, and I followed everyone else to the window to get a look at the ass myself, and it was indeed a beautiful thing. So here were 8 grown men(the high school "intern" was looking too) pressed up against a glass window looking at this woman's ass, and none of us thought to open the door to convince her to come in the shop or even try to talk to her. Brilliance personified.

There are certain episodes of Seinfeld that make me laugh because it is just too hard to fathom that the events depicted can actually happen. And then there are others that are not just funny, but very true. George Costanza has an episode where he talks about his worlds colliding, and the dangers of that. George doesn't want to bring his girlfriend around his regular friends, because he is scared that he'll lose his sense of individuality if the worlds collide. This past weekend I had a series of worlds collide, and it was uncomfortable.

First I attended a going away dinner for a co-worker/friend of mine, but I brought my lady friend with me, and for various reasons there was tension. Not only was there tension, but there was unspoken tension, which is the worse kind. I managed to salvage a good time, but there was enough tension to make me feel like my worlds had collided. Then, at more then a few points this weekend, there was tension between my ladyfriend and I, and there was also the first official argument, which wasn't so bad, but it wasn't good either. We tried to push thru that, and for the most part I believe we did. And finally, my ex girlfriend was in town this weekend, and her presence collided with my current friend. I suppose I should go into explicit detail and explain each of these examples of world collision, but I really don't feel like it. In all three examples, I think I could have used much better judgment to avoid these situations. But swift changes will be made. I didn't even mention my bout with financial irresponsibility this weekend too. But all these things will be rectified. I'm not necessarily a control freak, but I do like for my life to have some kind of order, and I shall get it by any means necessary.

But the MOST important event to take place this weekend was the start of the football season. I watched two and a half games this weekend, and I purposely avoided all of the pre game hype that went with it. My boy told me I should write about what a buffoon Michael Irvin is, and one day I will. But most of these pregame NFL shoes are ex-football players trying to one up one another. I'd much rather watch the games and draw my own conclusion. And beloved Philadelphia Eagles are 1-0. And Mcnabb looked damn good. There are two more games tonight, and as much as I complained about the Monday Night Football format in a previous blog entry, I am glad there are two games tonight.

I'm lazy today man..I could type out about 3 more pages worth of thoughts, fears, and all that but it just isn't in me. Not today.

There are some days when I sit down and do this blog stuff, and I realize that I really have nothing to say. It is only when I start typing, and do less thinking that the words start flowing thru me(this sounds like some spoken word bullshit). However, today is NOT one of those days. I had something happen to me that I wish I was making up. And all of this before 7:00am.

So I'm walking towards the train station listening to my new Georgia Anne Muldrow CD, (which is damn good by the way, pick it up). While I'm walking, I notice a brother in a gold Corolla driving by me rolling down his window. I give him the head nod, and gives me the same, and I keep it moving..or so I thought. Less than 30 seconds later, I hear someone running up on me, and I quickly remove my headphones, and turn around. Granted I haven't been in a fight in 10 years, but I get defensive and assume the fight pose like Tyson in the first round. The same brother who gave me the head nod, taps me on the shoulder and asks me if I go or went to Howard U, to which I respond with a resounding no (Hampton University is my alma mater). Then he asks me if I teach in the area, and I say no sir, but it is at THIS point, that I suspect that he may have the gay. He goes on about how he just moved back to the area from New York, and he's just trying to get to know people, and I look familiar. I continue to give him the same BK mascot expression. Then he extends his hand, introduces himself to me, and asks me my name and I give it to him.

Now at this juncture, I have already thought of my escape, so I'm very calm and cool. He asks me if i have a good memory, and I say not at 7am, but he shouts his number anyway(leaving out the area code). Then I saw well alright, I'm going to run along now, and he asks me for my number. Now I don't care if you have the gay, you are a woman, or anything in between. If you call out your number, and the person you give it to blows you off(poor word choice I know), doesn't write down the number, and attempts to leave, chances are they aren't going to call. The proper thing for me to have done would have been to say I'm not interested man, and keep it moving. But I'm not proper. So I remove my headphones and ask the brother why he wants my number..and he starts to stutter a bit. He says that maybe we can hang out sometime..I say why do I want to hang out with someone I dont know..and he says you should be open to meeting new people. About a million and one smartass comments came to mind, but I let him off the hook and said, I don't need your number, and you don't need mine. He then says, I left my car parked on the side on the street, and I need to go move it, and I say you do that man. Then I hear him say nice meeting you, but I'm already jamming to my new cd at that point.

This is the fif time I have been hit on by a gay dude since I've lived in DC(1997). And this is the boldest anyone has gotten. This dude pulled off of a major DC street during rush hour to talk to me like he wanted to take me back to his Neverland ranch or something. Now granted I do have on a pink shirt, but in this day in age, dudes can wear pink and still maintain their masculine swagger. Plus I was in Atlanta (The Black Gay Mecca) two weeks ago, and I wasn't hit on at all, so why here in DC? Anyway.. I need to find a gay man who doesn't want me, and ask him what is it about me that would cause this to happen. I'm just curious at this point..

I had other things to say this morning, but they'll have to wait. Wait..there were various subplots leading up to yesterdays Steelers/Dolphins game, but the one everyone left out was that two black quarterbacks were starting in a primetime game that kicked off the season. The fact that not a single TV broadcast mentioned this, means that the sports world is taking successful babysteps towards recognizing that this men are QBs..not black QBs. Of course Daunte Culpepper's performance didn't do much for getting rid of the black-QBs-suck stigma, but Charlie Batch more than made up for it.

And speaking of brothers, it was nice to see James Blake put up a bit of a fight against Roger Federer last night. Nobody's beating Roger though..not in this tournament.

Today marks the official start of the National Football League season, and this will be the 26th season that I've watched. Of course back when I started watching, the games were on Sundays and Mondays, with the exception of the Thanksgiving game, and the Saturday games that came on in December. Now, football is on Thursday night, Sunday, Sunday night and Monday. And Monday Night Football is now on ESPN, which now means if you don't have cable, you are out of luck.

But anyway, the start of the season makes me think about the first time I watched a game on tv. I was living in Cleveland, and back then I was a Browns fan. I would occasionally look at football, but my attention span as a 5 year old was not all that good. Then suddenly I noticed this. I sat right up and said, Daddy, that man has my name on his jersey. He explained to me that man was Ahmad Rashad (formerly Bobby Moore), and THAT was my official introduction to football. Since my name was being paraded around the football field, I felt it was my duty to not only watched Mr. Rashad, but all the other teams as well. I actually want that picture framed, and put in my house. And if throwback jerseys were still in style, I'd purchase Ahmad Rashad's jersey and wear it out, like Linus and his blanket. But I digress. My prediction for tonight: Dolphins win 20-10.

I know I have touched on this subject before, but it deserves yet another mention. Having female friends is truly a beautiful thing. It's like having the answers to the test everyday of college...its like being Michael J Fox when he goes back in time, already knowing how the future will turn out; its like going out on a date with a woman you've already had sex with, and you just KNOW that you will get some. Female friends provide me with all kinds of insight and juicy nuggets of info, that I'd otherwise be in the dark about. Sadly, this has yet to translate into a successful relationship with a woman, but I don't blame my female friends for that...no no no..That is my own inept behavior. In the past couple of weeks I've learned about women's masturbatory habits, what women feel and think while dating/courting a guy, the frequency with which women think about sex, what women go thru in terms of finding, styling, and maintaining their hair, what women consider to be cheating versus what's faithful, and countless other lessons. If there is a silver lining to be found in not trying to sleep with a woman, this is it.

I'm still nervous about the personal trainer tonight..tomorrow's entry should be interesting

So last night was one of those evenings that I was actually able to relax. I hung out with a good friend for a bit, and she gave me a nice rug that is now nicely sitting in my living room. Once that was over, I sat down and watched the movie 16 Blocks. Now I had been warned that this movie was garbage, but I rarely heed anyone's opinion when it comes to movies. This was one instance, where I would have been wise to listen to the warnings. The movie was some hot garbage. I've seen Mos Def act in other movies(Something the Lord Made, Monster's Ball, even in Brown Sugar), but in this movie he was especially bad. Granted, the plot didn't really give him much room to grow, but on top of that he had this horrible accent that was like Flowers for Algernon meets a bad Chappelle skit. I'd be interested in knowing the director's rationale for making Mos talk like that. And Bruce Willis played an alcoholic, washed-up detective whose job it was to transport Mos the criminal from the jailhouse to the courthouse. I could go on about the movie, but there is no point. How's that for a movie review?

The other thing that mad me laugh is seeing the credits to this movie. I saw actors' name such as Bruce Willis, David Morse, etc..and then you see Mos Def. It seems to me if you want to be taken seriously as an actor, you have to use your real name. In the movie Crash, Ludacris' name was listed as Chris "Ludacris" Bridges. That way the non hip hop fans can award you a bit of respect, and the hip hop fans can say, oh THAT is his real name. Everybody wins. But when you're pushing 40, and people still refer to you as Mos Def, that seems a little problematic. I feel the same way about Ice-T, LL Cool J, Meatloaf and Sinbad. Just use your real name, and put the nickname in the middle. I'm sure they are reading this, and calling their agents right now. I think I am going to start asking folks to call me the Maestro..we'll see how that works out for me.
Incidentally, to close out the movie portion of this blog, I did see an excellent movie this weekend entitled Little Miss Sunshine. Now THAT was an hilarious movie. The cast was funny, the plot was original, and even when there was a bit of sadness, they quickly turned it into something funny. And everyone used their real name.

So tomorrow is the day my personal trainer and I start working out, and I am nervous. It's one thing to slack off on your own personal workouts, because nobody is watching and no one is pushing you or calling you out to bust your ass. But when you're paying somebody to basically be in charge of whipping your lazy ass into shape, it's an entirely different matter. Because of the filthy weather yesterday, I was able to buy myself a couple more days, but tomorrow is the big day. I have to get weighed, measured, and i'm sure I have to give a goal as to what I want to look like after our sessions conclude. To be honest, I can take or leave the weightlifting, I just want to be able to run 26 miles without stopping like Diddy and Oprah. If I can do that after these sessions, then I'll be happy. Oh and I wouldn't mind sparring for 5 rounds either, that's always been a fantasy of mine. Actually I have lots of fantasies, but that's another entry for another time.

Oh and Ms. Serena Williams has added me as one of her friends on myspace. This may seem minor, but it is the first step in a long journey that will conclude with she and I being photographed nude on some beach in Brazil, having passionate sex, while Venus watches.

The last time I sat here and typed a blog entry, it was cool, rainy and depressing outside. The weekend gave us some damn good weather and good times, and now, the next work day brings more depressing weather. I'm sure there is some kind of symmetry to that, but right now I am just not smart enough to even attempt to figure it out. Days like today, are the kindn that sick and vacation leave were created for, but I braved it out.

I learned a few things about myself over the past few days, and I've decided to comment on those things Larry King style in my blog. I've always admired Larry's writing style of basically stringing a serious of fragments together, and separating them by an impressive array of commas, semicolons and ellipses. And since I am feeling a bit lazy this morning, I thought it would be mighty black of me to steal his style. Sampling if you will..but I'm not a biter, I'm a writer...or something like that

1) It is possible for me to spend an entire holiday weekend with a woman without getting sick of her. I was pretty impressed with her and myself. I didn't want to kick her down the stairs or out of my apt at all. We laughed, we had fun, we took breaks from one another when necessary, we cooked, went to cookouts, drank, read, etc..I think her personality has more to do with it then anything. They were was no nagging, no requests for me to tell her what I was thinking 156 times a minute..no constant personal space violation, just a healthy mix of being in my face and keeping a sufficient distance. I like that

2)My vomiting streak has been halted at 6 years. I was on a Cal Ripken like pace over the past six years..I hadn't vomited, dry heaved or any of that in a long time. But yesterday morning, all of that came to a screeching halt. The combination of lots of cookout food, liquor, and 24 hour stomach virus was just too much for my poor stomach to bear. Vomiting is right up there with being kicked in the groin, and being hit in the face with a football, as one of the worst feelings to have. I felt like even my thoughts were going to come out. I'll spare you the gory details, but it was a bad bad thing

3) I believe I have social anxiety disorder (SAD henceforth) I went to a cookout on Sunday, and I was terrified of all the small talk I had to engage in, even before I walked in the door. Then, upon entering the cookout, I really only had energy to introduce myself to about 5 of the 10-15 people who were there. I just stopped short, and I gave eye contact to the rest of them, and they looked at me like..What the hell is wrong with him. It was only when other guests came in and introduced themselves to everyone, did I feel obligated to complete the introductory process. And even then, the other people were looking at me like I was crazy, but I'm not, I"m just afflicted. Once I sat down, I found myself trying to find a conversation to join. It is almost like a game of double dutch(not that I've done that, but I see things). I watched the rhythm of the conversations, and when I get a certain comfort level, I jump in. Except on this day, I never really jumped in. I would laugh at certain things as I had been a part of the convo all along, and I would nod my head in approval, but no one really heard me say anything. I felt like an autistic man, but again, it wasn't autism, it was SAD.

My only saving grace was the TV in the living room of this house. I was able to successfully gain access to the remote, and promptly turn to ESPN. Now I was in my element. I was able to talk to everyone in my field of view a sentence or two at a time, and then turn back to the TV for 15 minutes..talk a little more, turn to the TV, and it was at this point that I was comfortable. I got up for drinks and food, but for the most part, I stayed in that spot for 3 to 4 good hours. Sadly, I can't count on that type of advantageous atmosphere all the time, but I'll take it.

4) I can't stand folks roll their luggage everywhere. In the airport, I can understand, I do that too. But if you stand about 6'2 and weight a solid 240, and you are dragging a backpack that is smaller than your head, then that is definitely a problem. Plus when you are walking behind these people, it is easy to trip and fall, depending on how slow or fast they are walking. This is part of the lazyification(clearly not a word) of commuters.

5) I now have a personal assistant to assist me with my wardrobe, and she came thru the past two weekends. She helped me pick out brown shoes, and some shirts, so that I can at least look like I'm cool when my SAD affliction clearly indicates otherwise. I look forward to working with her in the fall/winter months

6) I am supposed to meet with my personal trainer today, and due to the weather, I am thinking of all kinds of excuses to cancel. I"ve already cancelled one time for holiday related reasons, so this would be #2. It's not that I'm not serious, its just that the rain renders me lazy and tired. I hope my prospective trainer reads this blog, and calls me to cancel, so I dont have to do it.

Oh and since I've started this blog and sang his praises at the end of July, Tiger Woods has not lost at all, and he's won like 6 million in the process. Not taking credit, just making the observation.

On my way to the train station this morning I walked past about 4 or 5 short yellow buses. Now usually I would take the opportunity to unleash a barrage of inappropriate jokes, and about 30% of the time they would actually be funny. But this morning, I happened to catch the eyes of a boy who couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 years old. He didn't "look" like he belonged on the short yellow bus, but then again he may very well have been misdiagnosed..I really don't know. I just know he had this sad look on his face as he stared at me walking in the rain, staring at him. It just made me sad for some reason. I wonder if he realizes that he is in the "special" class already, and I also wonder if he knows the mental stress that stigma may bring on him in the future. And then I wondered if he really just has a learning disability that hasn't really been properly diagnosed. This is the DC School System after all, so it certainly isn't totally out of the realm of possibility. And then I found myself wondering if this kid got parental support at home, or was he just made to feel stupid and out of place, because he wasn't normal. Of course, the kid just could have been constipated, and all of my ruminations as to what could possibly be on his mind could be way off. I just know I saw sadness in this kid's face, and it made me sad. It also made me miss my son, but I'm not going there right now..not today at least.

It is no longer a shock to see that the US basketball team lost to Greece early this morning in the world championships. Even though they defeated Germany rather decisively just two days prior, the writing was still on the wall. The problems that the NBA is having, have migrated overseas and shown up in international ball. Defense is suspect, and no one can shoot consistently, and a good team can exploit these things, and Greece did just that. The sad part is, Argentina and Spain are better teams than Greece, so I can only imagine what they would have done to the US. All of this should make everyone appreciate the original Dream Team of 1992 that much more. They didn't just win because it was debut of pros in international ball, and they didn't just win because the rest of the world had yet to catch up. That Dream Team won, because they had some of the most talented, fundamentally sound ball players to EVER play. Jordan, Bird, Magic, a slim Barkley, Stockton, Pippen, etc..everyone on that team(except Christian Laettner) either will be or is already in the Hall of Fame. These other teams are just pretenders. In my opinion, the US needs to send an entire team over there like the Miami Heat or the Pistons..teams that are used to playing together already. It'll cut down on the bs tryout and practice time. Just my opinion though.

I'm ending today's entry with a song by Johnny Guitar Watson called "Loving You". It's been in my head, so hopefully one of you will download it, and it'll be in your head too. Here it is: http://www.yousendit.com/transfer.php?action=download&ufid=AC0170FF12261E18