Who the hell are these undecided voters? What is their profile? And more importantly what the hell is their problem? The election is less than two weeks away, there have been 459 campaign commercials aired in the past 30 minutes alone. In fact my lady and I have a favorite Barack commercial which is sad. Its the one when he explains how is mother went over school lessons with him, and when he complained his mother says, "This is no picnic for me either Buster." Really Barack? Did she really say Buster? I find that hard to believe buddy.

Anyway, there is no excuse for a voter to be undecided at this late date. There has been more information on these two candidates than there has in any other past election. There have been numerous debates, websites, campaign stops, television interviews, print interviews, roundtable discussions and Saturday Night Live skits. I am quite sure that these people know who they are going to vote for, they just want to wait until the last minute. In fact, in elementary school, these same people would be the last ones to eat their lunch or a piece of candy, and then when everyone else was finished, they'd mockingly wave their food in front of everyone to feel special. That behavior isn't cute when you get older.

I'd also like to add that if you black people riot if Barack loses, or get overly rowdy and out of control if he wins, I will be very disappointed in you all. As big of a milestone as his presidency will be, you can still be excited and hopeful without losing your damn mind; and if he loses, you still have to work, you still to focus on voting on the local level, and rioting gets you nowhere but in jail. Or if you're in Los Angeles, perhaps rioting will net you some new items for your house. But still..behave yourselves.

I would like to dedicate this particular blog entry to the song I am going to post below. It got me through my arduous run this morning. And yes there is foul language

Freeway feat. Jay-Z & Beanie Sigel - What We Do
by pinkweedstyle

I have two work complaints.

One, I get in early, and I see that I have an email from the head of the "birthday committee" asking me to donate $10 for yet another birthday extravaganza. Apparently, the birthday girl requested a specific store from which to receive a gift card and now we have to fall in line and donate, and frankly I resent that shit. Now, I have to walk an interesting tight rope here, because the people at my job were nice enough to send me a beautiful flower arrangement while my lady was in the hospital, and I was thankful for that. But that's different. I wasn't in the hospital lobbying for a gift and telling them what kind of arrangment I wanted, they did it out of the goodness of their collective hearts. But with this gift card bullshit, my hand is being forced, and I just think its ridiculous. I'm sure my job, or anyone reading this thinks I am cheap, but really I am not. I just think a birthday donation should be voluntary, as opposed to the dictated at 7 in the damn morning.

Second complaint. Due to my lady's health, and a couple of my personal doctor appointments, I have had to leave work early on several different occasions recently. I try to tell my boss in advance, but sometimes things come up, and I have to tell her at the last minute. If you recall, I dropped my urine off yesterday morning, but they didn't tell me until 3 that afternoon, that they needed blood too. So I told my boss, I needed to leave a bit early, and she said it was cool. I repeat, she said it was cool. She then told me to inform my co-worker as well, and I have no problem doing that, because we work closely together.

So, I tell this relatively new dude that I am leaving early, and this is what he does. First he looks at the clock, then he gives me this dumbass smirk and says, "Maybe on Friday I should give blood, so I can leave early too", and instantly I wanted to smack him dead across the face with my genitals; however, since I was fasting yesterday, I took the high road (shoutout to Denny Green) and I just walked away. This isn't the first time this ass clown has said something smart when I needed to leave early. One time I had to leave, and he comes in my office asking me if he can take a quick smoke break before I leave him in the office alone. I said sure thing, and I left right behind him. He is not my boss, I tell him shit out of common courtesy, and his reactions are way out of bounds. The problem is, I don't know how to suppress my Rashad-ness enough to tell him in a classy way, rather than flipping out and possibly losing my job. I'm open to suggestions though.

I started a blog that is strictly dedicated to me getting svelte. I won't link it here, but if you look to your right with the other list of blogs, I'm sure you can figure out which one it is (Operation Svelte). Maybe I'll inspire someone to get of their out of shape/fat/overweight/mildly overweight ass and start working out.

I cursed a lot in this entry, but I am not apologizing.

I am going to assume that no one who has been reading my blog the past couple of days, appreciates the fact that I have discussed my urine and the container it has been deposited in at great length; however, I am happy report that today officially ends the "urine chronicles". After I made my last deposit this morning, I combed through my apartment looking for a nice shopping bag to house the package, and I finally found a nice sized grocery bag. Then I braved the January like morning temperatures and I made the 10 minute walk from my apartment to LabCorp. While I was en route, I thought about how the cold temps would affect the package I was carrying; I thought about what would happen if I dropped it and it spilled all over the mean streets of NW Washington DC; I also thought about how stupid I felt, but I finally got to the LabCorp and made the dropoff. The lab technicians acted like they couldn't touch the container, and they made me put it down, sign a sheet, and then I left End of story. Hopefully all is well and I am still healthy.

Colin Powell needs to start entering some of these Poker competitions, because I swear he would win every time. Then again, he probably would find a politically correct reason not to get involved. Never in my life have I seen a man who gives more ambiguous answers to seemingly mundane and easy questions. Even when he was announcing his endorsement of Obama, he deftly sidestepped the clear cut answer, until he was good and ready to reveal his decision. Then he spent the rest of the interview giving answers without really answering the questions, and he did it all with a straight face, with the occasional smirk or smile. There was a time when I thought he'd be a great president, but now I just want him playing poker, and giving me his winnings.

And today is my ladyfriend's first day back to work, since losing the baby. If you have a spare moment, send a prayer up for her, because I want it to go smoothly for her.

Urine, Colin Powell and prayers...just a typical Monday morning.

From 7:50 am today to 7:50 pm tomorrow, I will be urinating in this container. This is probably definitely too much information for me to be typing in the blog, but I crossed that threshold a couple years ago, and frankly I cannot turn back. I have gone in a cup before, but never have I had to go in a jug like this. I don't usually have aim issues, but who knows what could happen in this type of circumstance. I have to leave the apt to cover some basketball related issues today, and I'm wondering do I: a)Leave this monstrous jug at home and just hold it until I come back or b)Lug this thing around like luggage, and hope no one asks me why I am transporting an impressive jug of urine. This should be interesting...

If you aren't a sports fan, then you missed a hell of a night last night. First the Boston Red Sox continued their improbable run, by beating Tampa Bay and forcing a game 7, and then Bernard Hopkins beat an undefeated champion named Kelly Pavlik in convincing fashion. I know I drove my lady crazy by basically standing up in the living room while this was going on, and flipping back and forth like a mad man. But it was well worth it.

Now if you excuse me, I have a jug to fill.

I don't know when it happened, but I realized today that I am ill-equipped to shop for any type of clothing without my lady in attendance. Since the temperatures have dipped a bit, I thought it would be mighty black of me to purchase a fall jacket of some sort. I have a winter coat, and some blazers/sportscoats, but I still covet that perfect fall jacket. I briefly looked online at some things, but me being the professional shopper that I am, I thought a TRUE measure of whether a coat is Rashad-worthy or not, would only come from touching the jacket and trying on. So, about 2 hours ago I set foot outside my apartment hoping to come home with a fall jacket. Not so much.

I walked around about 3 or 4 different stores, and instantly I felt as if an anxiety attack was going to overtake me. There were so many people, so many options, and I just couldn't function. Every coat I tried on seemed to look funny on me in some way, when in reality I just needed my lady's opinion. I mean sure there are women working in men's departments to make you feel better, but I don't trust them. I think they prey on clueless people like me, so that just added to my paranoia. At one point I had 3 fall jackets in my hand that could have possibly made the cut, but ultimately I just put them down(in the wrong spot I might add). I did buy two sweaters, so it wasn't a total loss, but no jacket. Meanwhile I just talked to my lady, and her and her sister made a killing while shopping. Its no fair.

When I was single, I would recruit whoever I was dating at the time, and they would assist me in my clothes quest, which was great. Unfortunately, I didn't like these women enough to keep them around, and although I moved on, my wardrobe would suffer greatly until the next woman came along. I am not one of these men who is blessed with a keen sense of fashion. I am a good writer, that's my deal. Clothes? I dont know jack. If it were socially acceptable, I'd wear jeans and a T-shirt everywhere i went. Fortunately for me, I have a good woman who makes excellent decisions for me in the clothes department. Never again will I get too big for britches and do this without her.

Now, if you excuse me, I have a baseball game, some college football and a boxing match to watch. But before I go, please read my article here.

Every now and then someone turns me on to a new artist, and I tend to acquire any and everything by this artist to learn more about them. This month, that artist is Jeff Beck. How did this happen you might ask? One day a few weeks back,I was listening to Stevie Wonder's, "Looking for Another Pure Love", and I noticed at the 2 minute mark of that song, Stevie says, "Do it Jeff!" So I put on my detective hat, figured out it was Jeff Beck, and I've been swinging from his jock ever since. So, I suggest that FIRST you listen to Stevie's song, then listen to the song I'm linking below.

Cause We've Ended As Lovers - Jeff Beck

I don't know if you are a Chuck D fan, but I am, so I'm posting this video:

So would you like to read how sports can bring a couple together? Last night was a rough one for my lady and I. We weren't arguing, but we were sniping at one another. It was the kind of thing that could have definitely escalated into an all out war if drastic measures weren't taken. To make things much worse, our favorite sitcom (The Office) picked THIS week of all weeks to have a show about babies, so that just made the mood that much more tense and uncomfortable. After our show was over, I casually turned to the baseball game, and I noticed that the Red Sox were getting spanked.

So my lady and I were watching this boring Red Sox game in complete silence, and after awhile, I decided to go over to where she was sitting and patch things up and I did. This is hardly the time for us to be having any type of disagreement, so I wanted to diffuse the situation before the jihad was upon us. Well not even five minutes after we made up, the Red Sox started to come back. Initially they were down 7-0, and less than an hour later they tied and eventually won the game. By this time, my lady and I were totally into the game, and any hint of dissension had disappeared. And while I would certainly love to take all the credit here, or even give my lady some credit I simply cannot. I owe this all to baseball, specifically the Red Sox. I hope they beat Tampa, and eventually defeat Philly(sorry Lex).

And now I will do my best to disgust my 4 readers. When I had my physical two weeks back, one of my urine tests came back a bit irregular. As a result, I have to do a 24 hour creatinine clearance, which basically means I have to pee in a jar all damn day, before dropping it off to the lab for testing. So this means while I am watching my customary 3 to 4 football games on Sunday, I cannot enjoy a beer or a glass of wine. After I spend all day depositing my urine into this damn container, I have to carry this about four blocks from my house to the lab. How's that for a Monday morning commute? And who is this lucky person who gets to sift through my glorious urine looking for god knows what? Good times!

One more rant for this Friday morning. Who are these people who eat egg salad sandwiches? Who bites into one of those and says, "Damn this is the taste I've been waiting for all day?" They look nasty, they smell nasty, and I can only imagine the type of horrid side effects this sandwich induces. My former officemate used to eat these from time to time, and it simply blew my mind. I don't care what kind of condiments and sides you put on and around that sandwich, it is nasty. In fact, if I ever see one in my office fridge, I am stepping on it, then quietly throwing it away. There's no room in a civilized society for these disgusting sandwiches. Chik-fil-A is better for you anyway.

When I was 11 years old and living in Newtown, Connecticut (where Bruce Jenner went to high school) I had a paper route. I delivered the local newspaper to about 15 different homes in the area, and since I was the only black kid on the block, this was a pretty big deal to have that level of responsibility. Each and every morning I would wake up, get on my bike, and put the newspapers on the front porch of each customer I had. Sure I could have just thrown it on their lawn, but I was striving for a higher level of customer service. I would gently place the newspaper in between the screen and the front door, so that when the customer opened their door the paper would gently fall into their hands.

Anyway, the street that I lived on was a steep hill and my house just happened to be halfway up this hill. So I would turn out of my driveway and do all my deliveries up the hill, then I would pedal my bike as fast as I could down the hill at world record speed and do the rest of my deliveries. One of my customers had this dog named Jake who lived at the top of the hill. For some odd reason, Jake's owners never tied him up, so he would run and roam freely throughout the neighborhood, yet he would never run away(aka voluntary slavery). Jake loved to jump on me, playfully take my newspaper, and put his wet nose all in my face. However, when I would race my bike down that monstrous hill, Jake's demeanor would change like David Banner with high blood pressure

As long as I stayed even with Jake, he would playfully bark at me as we swiftly went down this hill. But as soon as I would pass him on my bike, his playful barks would turn into mean growls and snarls, and he would literally try to run into my bike. As soon as I slowed down, he would turn friendly again, and then sometimes I would speed up my pedaling, and again the Cujo in him would resurface. After awhile, I would just let Jake win our downhill races out of fear that he would eat me(that's what she said). So why do I mention this?

During last night's presidential debate, John McCain appeared to be perfectly normal as long as he was getting no push back from Barack Obama on an issue. But as SOON as Obama said something that got under his skin, McCain's whole body language would change into something that quite frankly scared me. He would start smiling the way a touchy feely uncle does when he's left alone with kids. Then that smile would disappear, and his whole body seemed to tense up and prepare for battle..almost like he wanted to body slam Obama. And finally, he would slowly settle down, utter a subtle insult that sandwiched in between a couple "my friends" and he would calm down. This happened at least 5 times last night, and my lady and I looked at each and said, "This dude is crazy". Obama's demeanor rarely changes, although that does NOT necessarily mean that his crazy capability is non-existent, it just means he has sense enough not to show it when the presidency is at stake.

That was a lot of rambling I just did...

Anyway, my main man jazzbrew has a blog I think you should check out. And speaking of jazz..

Branford Marsalis Trio - Cherokee

Yesterday was my first day back at work in a week, and I can best characterize my day as 8 hours of hell. First and foremost, I had not been separated from my lady for that long in about 8 days, so I was having serious withdrawal symptoms. I felt like I was letting her and myself down by not staying home with her another day to take care of her, although she kept assuring me she was fine. Then while I was at work, I kept messing up big time. It was taking me too long to complete tasks, I had to get clarification three and four times on things that I should have known instantly; I had numerous emails to navigate through, and I was drawing a blank on the proper response; I sneaked in about 2 or 3 crying sessions, and then I had to hurry up and clean up the tears so no one asked me if I was ok and felt sorry for me. Last but certainly not least, I had not been to the barber in almost 2 weeks, so I was looking like Ricky Williams. And I did not even mention my doctor's appointment earlier that morning, when my doctor told me to lay off the red wine for 3 months. I need today to be at better day.

Between being at the hospital last week and resting at home this week, I do believe that I have seen the Oprah Winfrey show at least 4 times. The topics ranged from money to health to Chris Rock to Ben Stiller, and I sat there with my lady (and sometimes her sister) and watched them all, totally ignoring the unspoken oath I had taken with men all over the world never to watch an entire episode. I still think the show is a bit boring and over the top, but man what I wouldn't do to get on Oprah for just a 15 minute segment. Ideally I would have a book that I had just written, and it would have caught the eye of someone on Oprah's staff, and they'd convince her to have me on the show. I would push my book, hoopsaddict.com, my blog, and any other body of work friends of mine had produced. Who knows if I would reach my full 15 minutes of fame, but it is certainly worth a try.

I know I did this already, but I want to thank everyone again for being so supportive during this difficult time. Most of you who read this blog have never even met my ladyfriend, and those of you who have met me have probably been annoyed with me for one reason or another, and I don't exactly make it easy to be my friend sometimes. Still, people showed love, avoided asking me deeply probing questions, sent up prayers and made this ongoing grieving process a bit better. That is touching and I appreciate that. I promise to minimize the amount of sappy shit I write on the blog from now on too. I need to have some areas of my life that are untouched by what happened, and I think the blog will be the first one from now on (I know I'm not supposed to end sentences with a preposition, but I'm an English major I can do that, and you cannot).

Kurt Elling - Undun
Mr Elling is one of my favorite jazz singers right now, so I'm sharing a live version of this song. Perhaps you'll like it too

My friend Michelle is one of the few people I know who has actually written a book. Its called Blues Empress in Black Chattanooga. Buy it, read it, review it, and all that jazz.

I have grown accustomed to writing down 90% of my feelings surrounding any and every subject that comes in my head, and that's what I love about this blog. But this current situation is much different and way more personal. I have sat down at this laptop many times over the past couple of days wondering what I can write, and wondering if I at least wrote something down, would it alleviate this daily pain and crying, but I stop short. I'm just not ready to totally open up about this yet. The fire last year was bad, but those were possessions lost, and I knew that in time, I would replace most of them. And while I'm sure my lady and I will try again at some point to have another child, right now it just hurts beyond words to see her hurting as much as she is. That's an image you simply don't shake with words of encouragement and the promise of replacement possessions. For 5 months we made plans for this boy, and now just like that he's gone, but the pain and memories just stick around. So just bear with me here, and if you are religious pray for us. If you're a Bill Maher clone, and religion isn't your thing, then just say something nice, I'm sure it'll have the same effect.

I needed this laugh, hopefully it'll make you laugh too:

I just want to thank everyone for their calls, emails, and texts during this time. I really do appreciate it.

I really don't want to write or discuss this, but given that I have been so vocal about this topic recently I kind of have to at this point. My lady had a miscarriage, and we will not be having a baby boy after all. For obvious reasons I won't be blogging for awhile, and I ask that you keep both of us in your prayers.

Some Tuesday musings..

If you have children, or if you have sibling under 18, or a nephew or a niece, or if you are in some type of mentoring program, you should take that child to see the movie, The Express, which is a story of the short life of Ernie Davis. Kids today don't always know what it means to have to struggle, fight, and work hard to achieve, and maybe that's a sign of progress. Still, it never hurt a kid to see an inspirational story, and you throw in a bit of sports, you got yourself a damn good movie experience. I'll be taking my son this weekend.

I really wish there were some type of athletic event on the telly tonight, so I would not feel compelled to watch the 34th presidential debate. It would be different if I thought the current economy was going to be the star of tonight's proceedings, but I know there will be snark, cynicism, smirks and personal attacks. It's the equivalent of Terrell Owens bitching and moaning about his catches, when the bigger issue is the team's loss and their overall record. You'd think by now, candidates would understand that personal attacks may get you minor points in the polls, but overall it turns folks off. I don't know who the moderator is tonight, but whoever they are better do a good job of reeling both candidates in

De La Soul is one of my top 5 hip hop groups of all..period. My dad bought me 3 Feet High and Rising
on the way to journalism camp back in '89, and since then I have been hooked. And while they don't sell like the mainstream b.s. you hear on the radio now, they still release clever, thought-provoking music. So imagine my horror when they were honored last night on VH-1, and the first four rows(at least) did not know ANY of the words to De La's song. There were at least 5 songs done either by De La, or another group paying tribute to them, and the part of the crowd I saw, couldn't even fake mouthing the words. There is no excuse for that, especially when you are at a tribute show and you have planted your ass in the first few rows. Perhaps I'm throwing too much of a fit here, but I knew all the words dammit.

De La Soul - Stakes Is High:

The new guy at my job has been here for about two weeks, and I have not had a single solitary complaint about him until now. He does this thing when he comes up in my office without asking if I'm busy or in the middle of something, and he just starts talking and asking questions. I can be on the phone, typing something, in deep thought, and it simply does not matter to him. So today, not only does he just bust in my office, but he violates my personal space in the worst way. Now its bad enough when another man is all up in your face, but the situation is augmented when the man in question smokes cigarettes like Andrew Dice Clay. So here he is trying to talk about work-related issues with me, and he's two inches from my face, and all I am doing is eyeing the pack of Trident gum on my desk, wishing I could use the Force or a Jedi Mind Trick to get it in his mouth(that's what she said). Thankfully he got up and left my office after 10 minutes or so, but not before thoroughly disrespecting my nose hairs. I'm not sure whether he's googled me and found my blog online, but if he has, and he's reading this..sorry bro, but this was just too much of a violation for me NOT to speak on it.

And I am well aware that my beloved Eagles not only lost to the Washington RacistNames, but we are in last place. I can take my medicine like a man.

Every now and then I'll hear a song or a part of a song that moves me so much, that I feel compelled to waste a paragraph or two in my blog discussing it. I do believe the last time I felt this way, I wrote a little blurb on Marvin Gaye's "I Want You", and as stupid as I felt writing it, I look back on it with love and appreciation now. So this morning I am sitting here reading my Sunday Washington Post, and the Michael Jackson song, "Stranger in Moscow" comes blaring through my headphones, and I was inspired to write about the greatness of this song.

In all fairness, I have to preface this explanation by saying I am the biggest heterosexual Michael Jackson fan on the planet..within reason. I have all of his music, I am working on getting all of his recordings with the Jacksons/Jackson 5, and if he released a CD today, I would buy it without having heard a single, solitary song. Matter of fact, if he announced he were going on tour right now, I would spend insane amounts of money to be there in the front row. I will NOT however cry when I see him, stutter and faint if I meet him person and shake his hand, or appear at a molestation trial while he dances on a car. A man has limits goddammit.

The song starts very innocent and quiet. First you hear a rain storm, then you hear Michael beatboxing over the beat for about a minute or so, before the main beat comes in. Its actually kind of cool, because all of the other instruments slowly come in during this time, and then Michael Jackson starts to sing.

Now I don't know about you, but MJ is at his best when he sounds like a girl, and I mean that in a respectful way. When he attempts to make his voice more gruff and masculine, it just sounds all wrong(like Palin in a debate). In this particular song, MJ's voice sounds about as girly and young as it ever has, and it sounds absolutely perfect over the beat.

MJ wrote this song when he was on tour in his hotel room while in Moscow, and he just felt absolutely lonely (kids in Moscow have to got bed early I guess). So he was so alone that he took out his pen and wrote this song in less than an hour, and it appeared on his HIStory cd two years later. I mention this because the overall tone and mood of the song is pretty dark. MJ spends the entire song telling the listener how lonely he is and how the press and KGB won't let him be. Halfway thru the song, there is a piano solo, that enhances the sad and dark mood of the song. Then towards the end of the song, the mood changes.

Instead of sounding lonely and lost, MJ switches up the mood of the song to downright anger. He's not yelling, but you can definitely hear the urgency of this situation in his voice, yet he manages not to overdo it the way I mentioned it earlier. This part of the song only lasts about a minute, but it serves as a stark contrast to the rest of the song, and it fits perfectly. After that mini-rant, the piano comes back in and ends the song. Finally, the song ends with a man speaking in Russian, which is a nice touch I guess, but I find it a bit over the top. The song is great in my eyes without it. This is my second favorite MJ song, with the first being a tie between Billie Jean and Dancing Machine.

So, I have wasted all these paragraphs on Michael Jackson and this great song, so perhaps I should link it up on the site.

Michael Jackson - Stranger In Moscow
by dodo3003

I'll keep this short and sweet. I just got word, that I have an official press pass to cover the Washington Wizards home games this season. To quote my main man Ryan, I am stoked. I shall celebrate by going out and buying myself a pocket watch.

So, I watched the debate and the predictions I made yesterday were not totally off the mark. Palin did not win, but she exceeded the painfully low expectations she created for herself, by coming off as semi-competent. Allow me to demonstrate:

Gwen Ifill - What is your stance on when we should use nuclear weapons

Palin - Gwen, we should use them. But can I talk about the giraffes I saw in Alaska? Obama and Biden have not seen them, and frankly, they cannot be mavericks like McCain and I until they have.


Palin repeatedly dodged questions, and hyped up Alaska, like she was still running for governor. She resembled a student who had crammed the night before, and was eager to use ALL of the info they learned in a limited amount of time. I thought Biden was decent, and specific, but at times he seemed to be pushing his agenda ahead of Obama's, which isn't surprising given his behavior leading up to this debate.

At one point during the debate, I stopped and asked myself a series of rhetorical, yet pointed question, "Why am I watching this?" "What if Palin has to take over the presidency?", "When will Gwen Ifill get a new hairdo?", "Does Joe Biden want to sleep with Palin"...you get the point. Besides, the passing of this new bailout bill pretty much upstages any momentum either party has, which is how I like it. Enough politics, I am boring myself.

that's all for now

I mean how could not watch tonight's vice-presidential debate? This is a comedic gold mine.

On one side you have Joe Biden, who in the past month alone has openly disagreed with Obama, has gotten his past presidents mixed up, and just recently said that Ms. Clinton was more qualified to be the Vice-Presidential selection. Not only that, but Senator Biden just has an overall smartass aura about him.

And then on the other side, you have Ms Palin, who gives answers the way I used to write papers during my last year of high school and my first year of college: Long, extremely vague, and only a hint of intelligence in there. Just like Biden, the longer she talks, the more nervous her supporters seem to get. When you throw in the fact that she's relatively unknown still, this has the makings of beautiful debate tonight. I will definitely have some red wine handy.

So, what I think we have here is a New England-New York Giants situation. During the two weeks before the Super Bowl, all you heard was how New England could not lose and they were playing against history, not the Giants. The media questioned Eli Manning's big game ability, and they said that the Giants would be overmatched and outclassed because they weren't used to performing on the big game stage. So what happened? The Giants pulled off the historic upset, the Patroits choked and the media did an about face. I think Palin is going to win handily tonight, and McCain is going to get a nice boost in the polls..until the House rejects this bailout bill for the second time. Then he's going to start campaigning to push back the election. ..

I did something pretty impressive(for me at least) last night, that I must share with the blogging community. For the first time since I was a single man, I cooked, washed clothes, and washed the dishes all in one night. I could have added "I folded the clothes" to that list, but my lady is adamant that I do not touch the folded clothes, because I allegedly don't know what I'm doing. She does not let me make the bed for that same reason, but that's another blog entry.

But anyway, my lady was pregnant and resting, so I was thrust into the position of playing Mr. Mom, and I think I did a damn good job. I lightly marinated tilapia in teriyaki sauce, sauteed some spinach, and heated up a bag of brown rice. This seems silly for me to be hyping up such mundane things, but this is huge for me. Now the TRUE test for me is if I would do these things on a Sunday when copious amount of football are on the television.

While I was washing dishes last night, my neighbor knocked on my door and asked for my assistance. She said because it was Rosh Hashanah, she could not turned the stove off or turn the bathroom light on. So I walked into her apartment, and I saw about 8 women sitting around having dinner, and all of them were excited to see me. Granted, the apartment was smoky as hell because clearly the stove had been on too long. Still, I spoke to everyone, did the duties they requested of me, listened to 5 million thank you sooo muches, and then I left. Since I don't feel like looking it up, I need someone to explain to me why Jewish folks can't turn off the stove or the lights on Rosh Hashanah

The danger of putting each and every one of your thoughts and feelings in this blog, is that people expect to read just that. If I write about something as mundane as sunglasses or as boring as sports, I notice I get less views and considerably less comments, and I guess I can accept that. But there are times when life hits me hard like a Visa commercial, and I go through an internal struggle. Do I continue to put my life out here on the internet for all to see, or do I reel it in, work it out, and then blog about it once I have solution. For the issue that is bothering me today, I am going to keep it in..I know someone is reading this saying, "Well damn, why mention it if you aren't going to discuss it?" to which I would respond, "I don't know." Real deep huh?

I CAN say that early this morning I had my prostate exam and it was just hell on wheels. I don't know whether it was my imagination or not, but it seems like he kept his finger in there for over 2 minutes. He didn't just stick it in and out, but he probed, poked and prodded, and then took it out and made me "clean myself up" while he talked about Obama, prostate cancer, and playing basketball. If you are a woman and you're reading this, then ignore it, because I know how much more invasive your gyno exams are. But I don't have that frame of reference to call upon when I am being violated. I just know I hate it, and I'd be willing to donate two or three of my paychecks to finding a more resourceful way of detecting that form of cancer.

I wish I was a bit more festive today, but I'm not feeling it right now. Perhaps watching Dancing with the Stars will cheer me up.

Oh, and if anyone has seen Spike Lee's new movie, can you give me yay or nay? I'm hearing mixed review

I have only owned a pair of sunglasses once in my 33 years of walking this Earth. I was in the 9th grade, and I went out and purchased a pair with my allowance. I don't even remember the sun being out that particular day, I just knew sunglasses were in my possession, and they were going to be on my face. Wearing them in class would have gotten me sent to the office, but between classes, during lunch and after school you could not have told I was not the essence of cool. Then my boy Kevin came up to me, and told me I looked like a spider, and I needed to take them off, and I did. 1989 was the year.

So this morning, nearly 20 years later, as I strode into work with sun invading my eyes like the U.S. did Iraq, the thought of sporting another pair crept into my mind. I am 100% sure I can find some that compliment my pseudo-good looks and allow me to avoid that spider look. I vow to you the blog readers and myself, that I won't put the sunglasses on top of my head, I won't unbutton three buttons on my shirt and put them them, I won't wear them indoors, and I won't rip them off of my face and chew on the handles like I'm some sort of pretentious a-hole. I will buy a respectable pair, have my lady take a picture of them, and then post it up on the blog.

By the way, if you look carefully, you'll notice that the blog I wrote last week has been deleted by the blogger gods. Apparently I posted a link to a song that I should not have, and they took the whole entry down. So no more songs for me buddy, I don't want to be in jail.

Against my better judgement, I watched the presidential debate last night, and I can honestly say that I was thoroughly bored. The American public has been listening to these men speak for more than a year, and the debates honestly sounded like more of the same. They evaded questions, they skimmed over the details of this buyout, and the Mr. Lehrer was boring and easily manipulated. I would not be at all upset if these two did not debate again. Here are my other debate observations:

-John McCain may be old, outdated and slow in some aspects of this presidential process, but he is a skilled debater. He knew how to smirk and be dismissive of Obama's comments, he frequently drowned out Obama's response, and he came off like a parent debating his child. For a man who almost cancelled the debate, he looked damn good.

-Obama came off as composed, diplomatic, but he looked like a punk in some instances. Debates are rarely about the meat and potatoes of an issue, they are mostly about perception and surface level b.s. How does one look? How does on sound? Who seems to be in control? From that standpoint, Obama lost to McCain in my opinion. Still, Obama does not get angry, does not get flustered, and he damn sure doesn't start off each and every response with a 40 year old story. So from that standpoint, he wins.

-I do not care how the Republicans spin it this morning, it looked absolutely terrible when Joe Biden was everywhere after the debate, and Palin was nowhere to be found. McCain's numbers would have been boosted exponentially if Palin was on tv fielding questions and supporting her candidate. The Republicans seems to be mollycoddling her, the way Coach John Thompson used to do his freshman basketball players at Georgetown back in the day. His freshman players were not allowed to speak to the media directly. Coach Thompson would speak for them until they were sophomores. His reasoning? Freshman cannot handle the weight of the media during their first year of school, because they need to focus on school and basketball. Palin does not appear to be able to handle the magnanimity of this situation, so she speaks only after having been thoroughly beef. Enough political talk.

The reason I am up at 9am on this Saturday, is that I had a dream about Afghanistan of all places. I had a dream that more troops had been deployed over there, and all of the major networks were there as the plane landed. As soon as the plane landed, there was major gun violence and American and Afghan soldiers, as well as news reporters and cameramen were killed on live tv. But at no point did the network I was watching, stop the cameras. They showed live gun violence and death on live television, and as incredulous as I was, I didn't dare turn away from what I watching. I abruptly woke up, and said to myself, "What the hell did I just witness?"

enough talking.

If you look at the picture above very carefully you will notice three briefcases. There is one on the table, one in the chair, and one to the left of the chair. Three briefcases. This exercise in excess is brought to you by one, yes one man, who I work with.

The shiny white object in the picture is the refrigerator, and since mid June when I first started at this job, I place my lunch in there each and every morning. Every day since then, I notice there are three briefcases in one area. The gentleman who works in this area is courier, and he is rarely at his desk. His primary job is to deliver mail and packages between buildings, and he does this with great aplomb. Still, I cannot understand why he needs all these damn bags. Two of the bags(the one in the chair, and the one on the floor) have not moved since I started working at this job. The one you see on the table is the one he carries to and fro to work. I asked him one day if he had a laptop in any of those bags, and he said no, and that made this situation all the more confusing.

I carry ONE bag to and fro work, but I can tell you exactly what I have in there. I carry a microphone in case I roll up on an interesting interview, I carry this book
, I carry a pen and pad, and I carry my rhymes that I write on a daily basis(yeah right). At no point in my 12 years in the working force, did I ever feel like just one bag was holding me back in any way. Clearly this gentleman I work with feels like three bags are needed to truly represent what he's about. I let it slide for two months, but this week it especially bothered me. I could see if one bag had gym clothes, another had a laptop, and the third has his rhymes..then I'd excuse this bag-o-rama. But I have a sneaking suspicion there is nothing in any of these bags except Ritz crackers, condoms, and receipts from Starbucks, and that is simply unacceptable.

Someone reading this is saying to themselves, "Rashad, why do you even care?" And I don't have an answer. It's just annoying, and what good is a blog if you cannot write about such mundane topics?

One of the only things I admire about Rudy Giuliani, is the way he handled the attacks on New York on September 11th(and if you don't believe me just ask him). New York City pretty much hated him before that date, and not too long afterwards, they hated him again (as we saw when he tried to run for President) but for a month or so after 9/11, he was a hero. It can be argued that 9/11 fell in his lap, and he did what any good leader would do, which was to lead, but I still admire what he did. He didn't just sit in his cushy NY home and give press conferences, he put his hard hat on, and he went to various spots around the city to lend moral support, assess damage and give speeches. He tried to be a calming influence in an otherwise chaotic situation, and from my vantage he did not do a bad job at all..which brings me to President Bush.

We are in a bonafide financial crisis right now, and I think it finally dawned on Bush that he had to address the country to talk about why it happened, what his solution is, and what the overall prognosis is for this country. Oh yeah, and he wanted to push his $700 billion government rescue plan. This was the time for Bush to shine, and take baby steps towards erasing the abysmal reputation he has carefully crafted over an 8 year period. And he dropped the ball.

Bush looked so stiff up there last night, it may as well have been a Weekend at Bernie's situation. There was not a word uttered last night that was not on the teleprompter, and I would bet my dwindling life savings that he did not write a single, solitary word. I understand that president's are busy, and they frequently don't write their speeches, but this is a dire situation for our country, and it requires something different in my humble opinion.

I would have ditched the written speech, and I would have just talked to the American people(real talk as the kids say). Yes I would have notes in front of me just in case I got tripped up on details, but mostly I would just talk. It wouldn't solve the problems, and it wouldn't keep another person from being foreclosed upon, but at least people could feel like the President was taking their problems seriously and doing something different for once. Instead, they saw a stiff, smirking man just reading words in a callous fashion. I mean what good is a leader if he doesn't lead in a time like this?

Perhaps I'm way off on this, and if I am, I am QUITE sure my boy Cliff will call me out, but these are my thoughts at 730 am.

And McCain isn't fooling anyone with his "let's cancel the debate" speech. That's riduculous. As I said to my lady last night, EVERYONE in the world has to multitask in some form or fashion. He could work around the clock, take time out to debate, and then go right back to working on the economy. But to stop everything, just to work on a problem that has been brewing for months and months is just asinine. Just do the damn debate man.

Eleanor Rigby - Stanley Jordan

Metro Center Train Station
Washington DC
12:47pm
not a red pen in sight..

I think I may have started something in my office. As I was finalizing my transition from shared to solo office, my now ex-officemate asked me a question. She asked if she was a bad officemate, and was that why I was leaving. I told her that a solo office opened, and I wanted it, which is mostly the truth. What kind of person passes up a solo office, in favor a shared one? I didn't think it was that big of a deal, and I damn sure didn't think she would take it personally. However, at the end of her work day, she said goodnight to everyone in that office except me. I did not get a wave, a terrorist fist bump, a high five, a head nod or anything like that. Now me being the man that I am, I always say good morning and good night to everyone in the office, because that is polite, and I exude good manners 24/7. And each and every day since I have been working in that office, she says goodnight to me, so her failure to do so on this day stuck out like a sore thumb.

Part of me wants to tell her in more detail why I moved. If I were to attach a numerical value to that part of me it would be about 2%. The other 98% of me knows that is a job, not a social outing, and above and beyond the small talk, the outings, and pleasantries, its all about the work. And since this move frees me to up to be more productive at my job, I know I made the right move. Plus the new guy officially starts tomorrow and he's closer to her age, so maybe some fireworks and flirtation will jump and get her feeling spry and randy.

Wednesday morning I have my first full physical since January of 2007 and I am a bit nervous. I know I'll get blood drawn, and my personal habits will be scrutinized, but what I fear most is the dreaded prostate exam. I have to bring it up, because there are members of my family who have prostate cancer, and I know I am at risk. But as a man, you just never get used to your doctor bending you over the table, KYing his gloved fingers up, and violating you for 30-45 seconds. Do I know it will possible save my life yes? Do I respect doctors and their methods yes? Do I hate when people string together rhetorical question without letting me get a word in edgewise? hell yes. Do I know what edgewise means? no.

Brown - The Roy Hargrove Quintet
This is a great, great jazz song. It sounds like the type of song Spike Lee would put in his movies when someone is sliding along. It is on Roy Hargrove's new cd entitled, Earfood I suggest you buy it, then clean, have sex, or just think to it. you wont be disappointed.

Finally, I have my own office. It is technically a cubicle, I don't have a door, and anyone can walk in and harass me with their non-work related conversations. But it is still mine. I can work and think with a sense of calm, and never again will I take it for granted. I'd like to thank the Academy, my boss, and all the good people at Verizon for making this happen.

I know at least 9 or 10 women who at some point in their lives, have been intimate with other women. Some did it in college, some did it in high school, some did it in their 20s and 30s, but ALL the women who did swear up and down that they are heterosexual. They just explain their behavior away by saying they were curious, or perhaps there was a little alcohol involved, or maybe they wanted to please their man by doing what HE wanted, and then they found themselves liking it. The pervert in me thinks this is terrific, and far be it from me to discourage any woman from doing something so natural, so right, so passionate, so erotic. Plus, now that I am having a son, I don't have to worry about such things affecting me directly. But it did make me think..

Women will sit around other women in the nude, or scantily clad, and no one finds it peculiar. In that environment, its no wonder that some type of perversion jumps off. But guys just don't do that. I have never sat around half naked with my boys, listening to the Wu-Tang Clan, thinking to myself, "Man I always did want to tap that ass.." It simply does NOT work that way. Or maybe it does, and I am just being naive, which is entirely possible. Anyway, women will fool around with women, swear up and down they are straight, and dare you to say otherwise. But if they met a man who had even done so much as to kiss another man, they would want nothing to do with them. That my friends is a double standard. Now I know I shouldn't care given that I don't have such experiences under my belt, but still, it does make you think. Or maybe it doesn't. This whole topic is a minefield any damn way, but these are the types of weird thoughts that cross my mind at 12:18am.

In an unrelated note, my main man Sabin came to visit this weekend, and it was fun. Sure we probably looked old and out of place in the club, and yeah we spent the entire football game talking about how things used to be, but it was fun. I've know that dude 16 years now, and we have families, more money, more problems and more responsibilities. But its still refreshing to hang with your boys every now and then. This paragraph in combination with what I wrote in the first two paragraphs is just one big bag of wrong..oh well

Edith and the Kingpin - Joni Mitchell

I told my friend Nichole that I did not like or respect poetry. Then I saw this story in Washington DC, and immediately I thought of Gwendolyn Brooks. I take it back Nichole:

We Real Cool by Gwendolyn Brooks

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

My main man Sabin, who was my roommate in college, will be here later on tonight for a weekend of football, partying and all things testosterone related. I have about 4 male friends(3 if you don't count my brother), so whenever I get the chance to hang with one of them, it is always a memorable and festive event. There are two tricky aspects about his arrival though.

One, because I don't go out with the boys too often, I had to get a permission slip signed and dated by my ladyfriend. I have to promise not to go overboard, which really won't be too difficult. I also have to be sure I fit some quality time with her this weekend, and that certainly will not be a problem either. There are probably some men reading this and assuming that I am whipped or henpecked, and that is fine. I'd like to see you all try to go out and get wild and crazy with a pregnant girlfriend without her approval, and then try to set one shoestring back into the house.

The other tricky aspect about my main man Sabin coming in town, is a little something the kids called clubbing. I have not been to a club in God knows how long. The last two times I did go out, I was with my girlfriend one time, and the other I was just there to watch a little boxing and then I slipped out(that's what she said). When Sabin and I go out tonight, I don't know what to wear, I don't know if I can get away with wearing jeans, do I dress up, do I act like the pretentious women and men aren't annoying me, do I crack jokes about them..it is quite a mental hurdle for me. But I guess this why they serve beer, wine and liquor in the club huh? I am quite possibly overthinking this, but that's what I do.

You know what is a lost art? Reviewing movies on television. I watched my main man Gene Shalit review the movie, "The Duchess" (starring Keira Knightley and Ralph Fiennes) and I was just overwhelmed with his way of words, his passion, and his knowledge of the 18th century movie genre. I already wanted to see that movie because of the intense sex scenes I saw in the trailer, but Gene's review just kicked things up a notch. Anyway, the younger generation of men and women who review movies are nowhere near as eloquent. They insert acerbic wit and way too much cynicism, and they turn into armchair comedians and make it all about them rather than the movie at hand. I don't notice this as much in printed movie reviews...You know what? I am going to cut this paragraph short, because I get the feeling this conversation is one I should have with someone, rather than assuming YOU the reader(s) actually cares about this jibberish I am spewing at 9:20 in the morning.

I had quite a day yesterday.

First, around 3pm I found out that Washington Wizards guard, Gilbert Arenas had surgery on his knee, and would miss the start of the upcoming NBA season. Almost immediately, I temporarily set aside the work I was doing(sorry boss), and I got more details on this surgery, and I sat down and wrote a story on this for hoopsaddict in 20 minutes. Because this was a breaking story, I felt it required immediate attention. 5 minutes after I wrote it, my main man Ryan edited it, put it on the site, and here it is. I think that's the fastest I have ever written an article. Usually I sit around and procrastinate trying to figure out what I want to say.

Not even five minutes after that article was written and published, my lady called and told me she finally had the good news. But of course she didn't tell me right away. She teased me a little bit saying she knew and I did not, and then she went over some other information the doctor gave to her. Finally she told me that we were having a boy, and I could barely contain my smile. Thank god I was in the office by myself, because as soon as she I hung up the phone, I went around my office(the shared one, not the new one yet) and did the Tiger Woods fist pump.

After the pump was over with I started thinking about sports to introduce my son to, piano lessons, Spanish classes, him spending time with his grandparents, my older son, my brother, my nephew, etc. I know I got way ahead of myself, but for about two or three hours yesterday I simply could not help myself. Even as I type this, I am still on cloud nine, which is funny considering my lady is only halfway thru the pregnancy.

Now the name game begins. I have mentioned to some of you that I want my child to be named Melvin, but my lady shot that down like a skilled sniper, although I continue to push for it behind the scenes. My second choice is Niles/Nyles, but I am also getting lukewarm response. I won't give away any of the other choices are the table, out of fear of baby name theft; however, if anyone would like to throw some suggestions out there for us, that would be terrific.

In a totally unrelated note, last night before I went to bed, I saw the video for Alexander O'Neal's, "If You Were Here Tonight". Now I don't know if Mr. O'Neal ever came out of the closet to reveal he had the ghey. And I also don't know if in the 20 years since this video was released, I have forgotten just how androgynous some singers were back then. But what I DO know is that there is no way on God's green earth, that Alexander was singing abougt a woman in this damn video. Wanting and missing a woman you're in love with just does not provoke the type of reactions this man was having. It is still a great song, but the video is just..well...see for yourself:

I have a second son on the way.

Who are these losers who think 55 to 60 degrees equals a cold front, and they break out their leather jackets? I swear this happens every single September, and its ridiculous. If the high was 55 to 60, and the low was in the high 40s or low 50s, then I could halfway understand someone taking refuge in the leather. But in September the temps climb quickly, and by the time its 9am, it is up to the mid 70s. Then by the time these jackasses leave work, they have to wrap their warm leather jackets around their waist, because the temps have magically ascended to late summer heights. The litmus test is this: If you can see your breath and condensation on the windowns, the MAYBE you break out the leather. If not, get a blazer or rub icy hot on your arms or something. Me myself personally? I dont wear leather at all. Its hot, it smells like pretzels, and I feel like I should be wearing a leather Kangol with the a leather jacket, and that's not my style.

I made a huge mistake by trying to predict which day this week I would learn the sex. I got all kinds of people asking me if I found out yet, what's the hold up, why am I holding out, and I can't even blame them(although I will try). I put my business way out there, and folks want to know. Although in my defense, if I was reader of this blog, and I checked to see whether something had been written about the baby's gender, and I saw nothing, I would assume that the author of the blog had yet to find out..but that's just me.

I would also like to take this time to give out a shoutout to Washington Mutual, who in my mind, is a threat to run off with my money at any minute. I am working feverishly with my job to get my direct deposits redirected to other accounts, and my HR department is working way too slow in making that happen. I live in fear that one day I'll check my account, and instead of seeing numbers and my balance, I'll see a big middle finger with a caption under it reading, "Gotcha bitch!!". So thank you WAMU, for making me paranoid. I look forward to seeing you all in the Chik-fil-A drive thru.

I never get sick of this:

It was my intention not to write a blog today until my lady called me with the exciting news regarding the sex of the baby, but she has yet to get the news. Patience is not one of my strengths, so this wait is driving me batty. I mean how hard is it to figure out whether the genitals are internal or external?

My brother and I went to a bar last night to watch my beloved Philadelphia Eagles barely lose to the Dallas Cowboys. Now, it is my understanding that every man and woman know the rules of engagment when you sit your ass down at the bar. If there's nothing of note on the television, you talk about current events and sports, you occasionally glance at the tv, and you look around at the surroundings. If there is a game on, all conversation has to be about the game, or the commericals surrounding the game, but you don't dare bring up anything else. That's how things go.

So while my brother and I were watching the game this effeminate(gay) man was sitting next to us. At first he made it clear to us that he was a Cowboys fan, and that he was going to make fun of my Eagles. I had no problem with that at all, since I talk trash during games too. Then he started talking to my brother about the problems of Washington Mutual, Fannie Mae, Lehman Brothers, etc, and it got downright annoying. My brother and I enjoy a healthy discussion/debate as much as anyone, but the game was on the flatscreen. Not only that, he had already asked me if Philly was my team, and I said hell yes. Sports is a form of escape, so why would I want this nation's problems colliding with my three to four hours of football paradise. Clearly this dude didn't get it.

To add insult to injury, this dude was looking at Jamal and I like we were there to fulfill his erotic fantasies, and I was not feeling that at all. I know this is the part when people(women) will tell me that I am homophobic, and I am probably blowing this out of proportion. But I wasn't. There was lust and lewd behavior in this guy's eyes, and it took everything in me not to say something foul. Instead, I chose to watch the foul ending of the game.

That is my offering for the day. This is nowhere as exciting as a sex-of-the-baby announcement, which I hope is still forthcoming later.

Oh and my office move is almost complete. I just need the brother who works the phones here, to switch my extension over, and then I am free of this crazy woman. Speaking of her, she is currently talking about how she can't stand ox-tails. And for the record, I did not ask her, "So what's your stance on the ox-tail situation?" She just got a little Rain Man in her, and just blurted this out without provocation. This is what I am dealing with...temporarily

In the next 24-36 hours or so, I shall learn the sex of my baby that is to born in February of 2009, and I am not sure if I can properly convey how excited I am. Perhaps that is one of the reasons why I did not fall asleep until 5am this morning. Each and every time I voice my preference on the sex of the baby, some smartass comes at me and says, that I should be focused on a healthy baby first, and the sex of the baby second..I know that shit man, and who would pray for an unhealthy baby. Beyond that, I still want a boy, but it doesn't mean that if I get a girl, I'm going to make her magically disappear like some women are doing recently. I shall love a healthy boy or girl. I'll just be glad when I know, this wait is driving me crazy.

My boss is out sick, and the gentleman who trained me for two months is off to his new job, so I am the only one representing my section today, and it is a bit nervewracking. I suspect that I know enough to get me by today, but I must admit I am nervous. There's no one to call if I don't know the answer to something, I just have to improvise and tell folks to wait if I don't know something. It is partly exciting to be in that type of position, but the nervewracking side definitely outweighs that. And it simply can NOT help that I am operatingo on less than 2 hours sleep.

If you are free tonight around 8pm, turn to ESPN, and root for my Eagles to beat the Cowboys. Thank you in advance.

It is currently 1:45 am. I have been up since 6:30am on Saturday morning, and I am just too wired to get any sleep. The day started with my first flag football game(we lost) and it ended with my son and I watching my alma mater (THE Hampton University) take on Howard University. I also found out today that my son lied to his mother about doing his homework, so we had a long talk about lying and the importance of homework. I think I got through to him, but I'm not sure. He hasn't lied to me that I know of, and I want to chalk it up to him being 11, but that is too easy.

I haven't talked a lot about this, but my son's mother is sending him to Arizona to live with his stepfather on October 17th. I cannot discuss too much, because there are legal rammifications at stake, but I am trying to maximize my time with him. I know I'm rambling, so I'll stop right here, and just post a picture of my son reading the football program while the game is going on...

This morning while watching the Today show I was bombarded with coverage of Hurricane Ike. They were asking everyone in the Houston area and beyond to evacuate the city for in anticipation of the hurrican's arrival, as it is rumored to be packing a more catastrophic punch than Katrina did 3 years ago. These evacuation rumors seem to apply to everyone except camera crews and news reporters from the major networks.

Each and every time a hurricane comes to town, these people seem to put themselves right in the line of fire, just to bring YOU the viewer, the up to minute coverage on the latest hurricane. The winds are whipping, the rain is pouring, and in some cases, debris is flying around like this is the Wizard of Oz. Yet and still someone at that network has made the decision that is important that the American public see this. Katrina was enough for me to perfectly honest. I know all about the strength of a hurricane, and I don't need to see Anderson Cooper and his hair being blown around to confirm it.

The wheels are currently in motion for me to get an office change, and I cannot be happier. The office I am vying for is off in the corner, and although I would have to walk by everyone to get to it, it is way better than sharing an office with a lunatic. Hopefully next week at this time, I will be sitting there peacefully. I don't write about how annoying my officemate is anymore, but trust me, she's still up to her old antics. I am very tempted to take a picture of her numerous naps, and post it on my blog, but I know my boss(who now reads the blog) would probably scold me. I may sneak it in one day anyway.

There is a scene in the movie, Casino when a female reporter is interviewing Sam Rothstein(Robert Deniro). She is trying to get him to say that he is the boss, and Sam goes through a long explanation of that a gentleman named Mr Green is the boss, and he merely helps out on the day-to-day operations. At one point, Sam says, "In a sense, you can say that I am the boss, when Mr. Green is away." In the paper the next day on the front page, there was a huge quote in big black letters that said, "Sam Rothstein says he's the boss". Everyone in the room knew that headline was taken out of context, but the problem was there were only four people in that room, as opposed to the millions who read the wrong quote in the paper. Sam didn't stand a chance.

I bring that up to say that this "lipstick on a pig" pseudo-controversy is completely ridiculous. Personally, I am not a fan of the expression, but it is not because I think it is sexist, I just think the expression is corny. Obama could have said, "you can't piss on me and say its raining" or some other expresssion that says, you can't fool me by masking the real truth. The visual on "lipstick on a pig" is just not pleasant. I digress..

When you watch that speech that Obama was making, anyone can plainly see that McCain was his target. He set it up by criticizing McCain's voting record, and his willingness to side with George Bush in the past. Palin wasn't even mentioned during this particular speech, and she damn sure was not the target when Obama uttered the corny phrase. But to someone less intelligent or to someone who lacks critical thinking skills, you can make that leap and say that he was attacking Palin on the low and he is sexist. Its a stretch of epic proportions, and I can't believe there were entire news segment dedicated to this bullshit. I also can't believe I have dedicated several paragraphs to this issue.

If you haven't already, I would really like for you to over to hoopsaddict.com. I want you to read the article I wrote yesterday, and then I would like for you to check out the other writers who work their ass off. Even if you are not a basketball fan, surely you know someone else who is. This may sound like I am begging, and that's because I am.

It is quite possible that this story will not even be remotely funny to anyone except me and Cliff. But since that has never deterred me in the past, I shall press onward and upward.

So about 12 years ago my main man Cliff and his roommate (we'll call him Kirby) shared an apartment at a well known all male college in Atlanta, Georgia. They were good friends and decided like most college kids that living on campus was way too restrictive and off campus life was definitely the way to go.

When men live together they make official rules like who is going to pay what bills, how to split up the groceries, who takes out the trash, etc. There are also unofficial rules that are never really spoken about like knock before entering my room, if my girl and I are in the living room, get the hell out, and if you're dating a girl, find out if she has a friend for me. Guys don't sit down and hash these things out, they just have a way of becoming man law.

So one day, Cliff needs get the iron out of Kirby's room. He makes his way over to Kirby's room, and he notices that Kirby's door is halfway open. Unwritten man law tells Cliff that if your roommate's door is half open, that means you can enter. Kirby probably needed something from behind his door, and it pushed forward just a bit, and he was too lazy to open it way. Still, as a precaution Cliff lightly knocked on the door,and proceeded to enter Kirby's room. And lo and behold guess what Cliff saw..

Kirby was sitting on the floor bucked naked except for a t-shirt and socks, he was stroking his phallus like that was the only way Obama was going to win the election. Cliff just happened to look for a second and then said aloud, "Ohhh"(like I would have done). No words were spoken, no conversation was started, and no explanations were offered. Cliff just grabbed the iron, and got the hell out of dodge. You'd have thought someone had pulled the fire alarm he got out of there so fast.

Now, everyone has masturbated before. Some do it everyday, some do it while their girl is pregnant or on their cycle. Others do it to alleviate tension from time to time. Some people may have even been caught before by their significant other. I'll even go as far as to say that some folks have been caught right after they finished or just getting ready to start(I'm in that category). But as a man, you simply do NOT get caught in the act by a heterosexual male with your door open. I cannot stress enough how wrong that is. If you are a man with a roommate, you know that if you are going to make love to yourself, you close the door all the way, you lock the door, and maybe you even put a chair in front of the door for safety. Or you just go in the shower and get it done that way, as to cut down on the cleanup factor. But you simply cannot leave the door half open, take all of your clothes of except for your shirt and socks, and then expect to find peace before your release.

Anyway, Kirby is now a successful minister in the South and he has a family, and to this day, he and Cliff have never spoken about that magical moment. Cliff can't stand it when I bring this story up, because he is still friends with Kirby, but he still finds himself laughing hysterically when I make jokes about it. I actually met Kirby several years back and he was very friendly and affable, but it took everything in me not to bring it up in jest. I was way more mature back then, I think now I'd bring it up and let the good times roll.

My lady called me an Eric Benet groupie. I'm sure me posting this video won't help that label. But this is one of my favorite songs EVER. It came out like 14 years ago.

Say Love - Jeff Lorber featuring Eric Benet:

When I was a youngster watching and playing sports, my father gave me some useful advice. He told me that I should never root for anyone to get injured, because it is in poor taste. I could root for the other team to play badly, or I could simply root for my team to play better, but wishing for someone to lose the ability to play was not cool. That being said, I was not totally happy that Tom Brady got hurt and is out for the season, but damn if I didn't feel a little smug.

You see last year Tom Brady was talking a bit of smack before the Super Bowl, and that bothered me. He was acting like his team simply could not lose, and when the possibility of his team losing came up, he scoffed and laughed it off. Then his team went out and lost the Super Bowl, and I was the one laughing. So in interviews this year, Mr. Brady came back and made it seem like that Super Bowl loss was a minor setback, and they were going to return to dominance this year. Then he got hurt. I wish him well, and I hope he can come back soon, but I'll enjoy watching his team slip in his absence.

Other Tuesday observations:

-Whenever I slack off and then resume my workout regimen, I am always amazed at how good I feel, and then I am angry at myself for not being consistent with it. This morning I got back on the wagon, and I feel like a rock star. My libido is through the roof, my muscles are sore in a good way, and I have boundless energy(that will fade after lunch). My amended goal is to lose 15lbs before the election. Perhaps I won't be so angry all the time, if I am working out consistently.

-I wanted to write an entry about my boy Cliff catching his roommate masturbating while he was in college, but I think I'll do that from home, not at work. Its a great story. How's that for a tease?

-Barack and Michelle Obama look like they have sex every single morning and night. They just have that look that says, I am getting it well and often, and you're not. Conversely, John McCain and his wife give off a different type of vibe. It looks like McCain sits on the edge of the bed every morning, and his wife dries him off after a shower, lotions him up, gently pats his genitals as if to say, "no way in hell are you getting this today", and then dresses him slowly.

-My son's mother has some kind of benign tumor that is causing her to lose a great deal of weight. She says she'll be fine after surgery, but in the back of my mind, I wonder if I should start making room for young Carlton in my househould..that's not me being negative, just prepared right?

Although there was a game on Thursday, and there will be two more games tomorrow night, today represents the real start of the NFL season, and this is quite a symbolic one for me. This is the 28th season of NFL football I will be starting, and this will probably be the last uninterrupted season I get to watch due to the upcoming baby.

When my son was born back in 1997, I really didn't get to spend as much as time with him as I do now, so my football time was unaffected. The few times I did have him, he either slept the entire day, or he would cause me to miss a few hours of the game at a time, but again that was only a few days out of the month. Next fall, my new son/daughter will be 7 months old, and I am quite sure he/she will require my full attention on a daily basis. I could be a negligent parent, and just send the child to its mother, but that would leave me single and alone. So today, as I drink beer and alternate hands down my pants, I shall cherish this final season of 100% freedom.

While I wait for the game to come on, I wish I could read the Sunday paper, but apparently that will not be possible. As I have mentioned before, I have had numerous problems with my Sunday paper. Sometimes it isn't delivered, other times the inserts are missing, and then I have times like today when the front page, the sports page, and metro and style section are not included. There's no doubt in my mind that when i call to cancel my subscription in a few hours, they will throw the kitchen sink at me in an attempt to retain my business, but I am done with the Washington Post now. I'll just read it online.

Free - Marcus Miller featuring Corrine Bailey Rae
I usually don't care for remakes, but these two did a decent job with this Deniece Williams classic. Yes it does sound like smooth jazz, but as long as there's a vocalist involved its ok.

I woke early this morning to find out whether my flag football game was cancelled due to Tropical Storm Hanna, and indeed it was. I immediately tried to go back to sleep, but I was way too spry, so the next logical move was for me to trek to the store to get some breakfast items.

My first stop was Starbucks, where I was on a mission to purchase some breakfast sandwiches for my lady and me. There was one woman in front of me who was paying for her food, when one of the clerks asked me what I wanted to eat. I walked in front of the lady, and proceeded to order food, when the clerk told me that I probably wanted to keep my place in line, instead of coming over to where he was. I agreed, and after my order, I went back to my place in the line where the lady was still finalizing her transaction. The following conversation ensued:

lady: Don't let that man intimidate you, he only works at Starbucks
me: *says nothing*
lady: is he bothering you?
me: *shakes my head no*
lady: I can beat him up for you if you want
me: *says nothing still*

Now clearly this woman and the Starbucks employee knew each other, and thought this shit was cute, but I was not at all amused. It was barely 9am, I was soaking wet from the rain, and prior to this woman causing all this noise, it was nice and placid in the Starbucks. When I went over to pay for my food, I jokingly asked the cashier if he and his co-workers could tone down the intimidation a bit the next time I came in their store. They fell out laughing, and the lady gave me a dirty look.

Two minutes later as I picked up my now heated sandwiches, the lady came back over to me and said that if she were black, she would really have caused a fuss in the restaurant. Considering this lady was already black, I assumed that she was trying to make a joke, but not only did I not get it, but it wasn't funny. Maybe she was flirting or something, but I just was not in the mood for her shenanigans. Plus she had on a dirty baseball cap (a pet peeve of mine for men and especially women), and when you couple that with her bad joke, it just was not a good look on her. I gave her the mean Ice Cube look and carried my ass to the grocery store.

Now once I entered the grocery store, the natural chip that already resides on my shoulder had ballooned, so at this point I was ripe for a confrontation. I got some orange juice and some water, and I headed to the checkout area. Right before I got there, one of the employees informed me that the water bottle I had chosen was leaky. As soon as she said that, one of the other male employees loudly sucked his teeth but I ignored it. As I got ready to hand the leaky bottle to the female employee, I dropped the orange juice, and that too spilled a bit. The male employee then turned his head and said "dumbass" loud enough for me to hear. I ignored it and went to get replacement bottles of both juice and water.

With my new bottles in tow, I proceeded to pay for my items, and I noticed the male employee had wandered his ass back into my field of sight, and the following conversation went down:

Me: Did you see say something earlier?
Him: Nah man I ain't say shit
Me: Yeah you called me a dumbass
Him : Nah man
Me: How about in the future, you just shut the hell up and clean up the messes I make instead of commenting on them
Him: (visibly angry now): Man you dont know me like slim
Me: Yeah I think i do now
Cashier: Whoa fellas that's enough, sir, we don't want to cause a scene
Me: His dumbass should have thought of that before he opened his mouth

I wrapped up my payment, and I attempted to leave, but this male employee acted like he was going to block me from leaving for a few seconds. I stood there with my Starbucks and my grocery bag, and he stood there empty handed. He could have easily thrown about 2 or 3 hard punches my way before I put my bags down if he wanted, but he chose to stand over me huffing and puffing. I then asked him if he was going to let me out, or did I need to spill more shit to get his attention. He chuckled and reluctantly got out of my way, then proceeded to stare at me through the window when I left (although I stared at him right back).

I am way too old for that type of behavior I know, but how many of you would let a GROCERY STORE employee call you a dumbass without reacting?

Once again I was fully aware that John McCain was speaking tonight in front of the RNC, but I could not get excited at all. There was a Washington/New York Giants post game show that I wanted to watch, and then there was the Roddick/Djokovic tennis match that I wanted to see as well. When both of those programs were at commercial, I reluctantly turned to the convention to hear McCain speak, and I was unimpressed.

McCain's cadence is boring, his body language is like pouring Nyquil in my eyes, and for him to have to speak after the electrifying Palin is just a crying shame. McCain is a good dude, and he's actually one of the better politicians out there right as is Biden (for whatever that's worth). But public speaking and debating are two of his weaker points, and that will be magnified over the next few weeks. Too bad Palin can't just prop McCain up Willie and Lester style..

Anyway, i'm sick of conventions and prepared speeches at this point, I want to read detailed prose about what policies they plan to propose, who may fill their respective cabinets and what they plan to accomplish in their first 100 days. I want pointed debates by moderators who have no particular political agenda (RIP Tim Russert), and I want Biden and Palin to say some stupid shit, and then spend 48 vigorous hours cleaning it up. I want some Saturday Night Live appearances, town hall meetings (preferably in my neighborhood), and less pompous commercials where they let me know who approves what message at the end. Is that too much to ask? I mean damn its almost September, isn't is supposed to get good right about now?

Without going into too much detail, there is nothing more frustrating, than hearing that one of your parents is going through heartbreak in their late 50s..I couldn't even offer good advice, I just changed the subject and tried to stay upbeat. Although I am sure it can be done, dating and finding a mate in the late 50s to early 60s cannot be fun at all. This is just another reason why divorce is so damn devastating. Who wants to find someone new when you're set in your ways already? Who wants to learn how to have sex with someone at that age? Who wants to have to train someone to laugh at the corny jokes you tell? I know I wouldn't.

In an attempt to keep the mood upbeat, I'll shall post an alternate version of my favorite song right now: You're The Only One - featuring Eric Benet and his 17 year old daughter:

As much as I knew that Sarah Palin's speech last night would be historic and interesting, I chose to spend my time watching the Venus/Serena match at the U.S. Open. The quality of tennis was just too good for me to just stop watching abruptly; however, I did watch the tennis match with the volume down and I heard most of Palin's speech. She did a damn good job.

Given her relative inexperience on a stage that big, she absolutely knocked it out of the park. She spoke highly about her running mate, played up her background, and then she slammed Obama the way she's supposed to do. Sadly, after watching her speak, you kind of wished that SHE was running for president, not McCain, who looked about 80 years older than he really is when he appeared on stage after Palin's speech. If McCain's speech is not as dazzling, Palin's efforts will be for naught. I also think characterizing Obama has only a great public speaker with grassroots experience was a mistake of Palin's. You can't be the governor of Alaska, and then criticize a man who worked in one of the larger cities in the United States helping everyday people. Aren't those the same people, Palin accused Obama of talking down to? If I was in Obama's camp, I would play that up big time. Other than that, I was impressed.

I still feel nauseous, and my energy level isn't fully back to normal, but I am going to work today. The guy who trained me when I started a couple months back is leaving for a new job next week, so I have to pick his brain fully before he leaves, and I cannot do that laid up on the couch sick. But if I feel a hint of sickness creep back on me, I will not hesitate to travel right back home to the comforts of my bed.

So Have I For You - Nikka Costa

My lady, who felt better enough to go to work today, instructed my still sick ass to stay off the computer, but I had a bit to say, so I'm disobeying. Some sick observations:

-I am scared to eat or drink anything, because I have little to no faith that it will stay down. Even the Pediolyte I had last night came up a short time later, so now I may as well be on that Gandhi diet. I'll try again later on this morning to drink some ginger ale, water, or Pediolyte. How exciting is that? Three nights ago i was enjoying a fine glass of red wine, now I am reduced to this

-Nothing says love more than you and your lady taking turns in the bathroom less than 5 minutes apart. i'll leave it at that

-One of the best parts of my illness, is that I was able to watch the entire first season of the Showtime drama Californication. People had been telling me how good the show was, but I finally saw for myself. Check it out if you can.

- I have missed two days of work, pushed back an article I am supposed to do, and I will miss flag football practice today, all because of this illness. I shouldn't feel guilty, but I do. I rarely miss work, and I rarely get sick, but this is no time to play the hero you know?

Back to bed

Two words: Stomach Flu.

If you've ever gone through this, you know exactly what my lady and I have been going through since last night. I don't know how it happened, or what triggered it, but this is agony. I shall refrain from going into the specifics, but lets just say I'm getting it from both ends..and not in a ghey way.

The only positive of this? This a great way to lose weight.

That is all the strength I can muster right now.

This entry is certainly going to be high on the sappy meter, so if that is too much for you to bear on this Labor Day, then you should definitely depart immediately.

My brother had a cookout at his new condo yesterday, and I must say I am as proud of him as a big brother can be. Just a month or so ago, he and his wife were taking turns living in my apartment with my lady and I, eating up all my crabcakes. Now, they have an impressive place of their own in Largo, MD, and they are well on their way to getting back on their feet and then some. And even though my nephew was intermittently throwing up his food yesterday, he was happy and running around, and it was clearly evident that he loves his parents.

What made this event even better were the individuals who were in attendance. For the first time ever I had my pregnant lady, my son, both my parents, my sister-in-law, my brother and my nephew in the same room. I suppose this would have happened a lot more often had my parents not divorced, but that's quite alright. The fact that I had all that love within arm's reach made had me feeling beyond happy, and at one point I got a little misty. The men were playing football, the women were talking, my brother was working the grill, and conversation flowed all around, and I was taking it all in stride. I took a few picture, but I think I'll keep those off the blog this time around.

And to top it off, my brother had a picture of my late grandmother on his refrigerator. All of my childhood and adult pictures were lost in the fire, so I had not seen a picture of my grandmother in 2 and a half years. I went into the kitchen to get some water, and her picture greeted me before I could even open the fridge. I stared at it for about 5 minutes, then I smiled, then I almost cried, then I broke out the camera phone, so I could have this image to myself once again. Sure she wasn't there physically, but I am quite sure she was looking at me, and the rest of the family from above and smiling..which if fine, but I'd have much rather have had her cooking.

told you it was going to get sappy...