I don't know if you have noticed or cared, but I have been stuck in what may quite possibly be the worst writer's block of my writing life. It has affected my blog, its affected my Hoops Addict articles, and it is absolutely frustrating. I'd like to think of myself as an above average writer, and this stretch has just taken my ego and stomped it. It could be burnout from the combination of writing a blog and about basketball; it could be all of the wonderful writing ideas I have for this summer; or it could just be that my brain is tired and needs a rest. I have no clue. But I do the perfect place to free one's mind from the shackles of writer's block: the airport.

The amount of stimulus in an airport is just plain golden. You have folks reuniting, people separating, kids running wild, pilots looking focused, flight attendants looking hoeish, airport staff acting mean, luggage being thrown. And I won't even mention the airport bars where magical language and behavior are on display. If you just sit down with a pen, some paper or a laptop, you can EASILY find something to get the creative juices flowing and then some. I am headed to Cleveland, Ohio for the weekend to see my mother, grandparents and others, which means I will have TWO chances to emerge from this writer's block. I think I'll start with an airport bar, and work my way out.

And no writing about how much I have writer's block doesn't mean I don't have it anymore..although I certainly gave it some thought. Also if you haven't already, I'd like for you to visit Hoops Addict (now in HD) and watch the videos, read the articles, and then read mine. My main man Ryan has worked hard at improving the look of the site, and even though I personally am having a tough time adjusting to it, I still would like to hear feedback from you, the customer(s).

And now, in honor of the writer's block I am having, I thought I'd link a song from a rapper/writer who seemingly never had writer's block(except for the past 9 years he hasn't released anything) and that's Rakim. THE best rapper of all time..no arguments.

Know The Ledge - Eric B & Rakim

Please read my article.

Isn't the expression "dry humping" eventually an oxymoron for both parties involved?

Today, instead of writing a blog entry, I will fill this space with words from my father, Mr. Michael Mobley, who is in the business of financing small businesses in Howard County, Maryland. He sent this to me last night, and I could really care less whether anyone gets anything out of this, I am proud of the man who I consider to be my hero, my best friend and my mentor.

Without further ado...

The United States, and, indeed, the world, is in an economic crisis not seen since the Great Depression that began 80 years ago. Venerable financial institutions have collapsed, the automotive industry is confronting bankruptcy and unemployment is approaching 10 percent. The Federal government has committed, as of this writing, nearly $800 billion to jump-start the economy. Most economists and politicians seem to agree that the government must take some action, but, both economically and politically, there is disagreement as to the viability of this stimulus package and its ultimate impact.

Unfortunately, it appears that the status of small business in this crisis has been virtually ignored. As these firms struggle to stay afloat, it is not clear what, if any impact the economic stimulus package will have on small business owners and entrepreneurs. In this environment, and as always, “Cash is King” for businesses large and small. Consequently, access to capital is a major determinant of the success to any business.

As large banks struggle to recover from major losses, they have tightened their credit criteria and, in many cases, are only making loans to those in the top tier of credit-worthiness. Small business owners have painfully discovered that these large banks are not as receptive to their requests for loans and lines of credit as in past times. Smaller, community banks, however, are active in the market, albeit with more restrictive credit criteria. Still, small businesses often face gaps in their ability to finance their ideas and activities.

Since 1992, j-ref has provided financing to entrepreneurs that were unable to obtain all or part of the capital required for their businesses. The mission of j-ref is even more important during these dire economic times. We continue to see entrepreneurs with ideas to start and grow their businesses. Many of these deals have the potential to create new jobs and contribute to the economic viability and overall quality of life in Howard County. Clearly, j-ref, consistent with the banks, engages in greater scrutiny of each loan request to accommodate the higher risk in the market. That said, though, we see excellent business models and talented individuals who require and deserve capital.
We, therefore, reaffirm the mission of j-ref. We continue to support small businesses and entrepreneurs in Howard County. Our commitment is unwavering because the need is on-going.

Michael Mobley has just been named, “2009 Maryland Small Business Journalist of the Year,” by the Maryland SBA. Michael will be honored at the Maryland Small Business Week Awards Breakfast in May.

Seeing folks you went to high school is a much weirder experience than I could ever imagine. You meet these people who you connected with in your most awkward of stages, and you have think you have this weird bond, when in reality, you don't know jack about them anymore. In my case, I was a quiet, athletic, borderline nerd weirdo in high school. I played basketball, ran track, wrote for the newspaper, and played in both the jazz and marching bands. I got no women until my senior year, and I had a core group of friends (including Kevin and Cliff who I am still tight with almost 20 years later), who I hung out with. My grades were just ok, which is sad, because I was very smart, but when that intelligence is coupled with a less than lackluster work effort, you have wasted talent. Yet I have no regrets.

I say all that to say, that when I meet folks via facebook, on the street or face to face, and they act excited to be talking to me, I am like, "Are you f**king kidding me? Its just me!" I don't have low self-esteem by any stretch of the imagination, but damn, reconnecting with me cannot possibly be that exciting. And these people tend to prove me right, because right after the initial re-connection is made, the forget about me, and our conversations fade into Bolivian to quote the great Mike Tyson. I like meeting and re-meeting high school buddies because 1) I am nosy and I want to see what they are up to 2) I am insecure sometimes, and I use their success/failure as measuring stick. I felt kind of pitiful typing that...

Speaking of Mike Tyson, there is an excellent documentary coming out about him very soon. The trailer is below:

Today is the last Washington Wizards home game, and I would like to say thank you to each and everyone one of you who have read my articles. Additionally, I would like to thank all of you who visited Hoops Addict in general to read the articles of the hard working staff over there. I know how annoying it can be when someone is constantly shoving their writing down your throat in hopes that you will provide criticism, feedback and accolades, but some of you have graciously done it anyway and I really appreciate it. The excitement that I had about covering the NBA this year, has not subsided one bit, despite my significant decrease in productivity. In the next few months, I'll be covering summer workouts, the NBA draft, and the Wizards introduction of a new head coach, so stay tuned, and keep reading please. Once I become big and famous, I will surely turn into an ass, and act like I don't know any of you, but that's how it goes, y'all understand right?

As usual, I have nothing significant to say on a Monday.

Little Lies - Fleetwood Mac

I finally cancelled my subscription to the Sunday Washington Post this morning. Last week I had no inserts, and this morning, there was no paper and there were no inserts. The whole reason I started getting it delivered was so I could wake up, and get the paper, without ever having to leave the comfort of my building. But the past two Sundays, I've had to wake up, look around my lobby, then step outside the building to make sure my paper wasn't possibly hiding in the bushes. I calmly called the Circulation department, and asked them to cancel my service. Of course they dazzled me with promises that will ultimately turn out to be empty down the road, and I did not fall for it the way I did the other 4 times. So that ends that relationship.

So I went across the street to the drugstore and bought a Washington Post, but then I saw some intriguing articles in the New York Times as well, so I picked that up too. When I got to the counter, the gentleman rang up the Post, and it was $1.50 as I expected it to be. When he rang up the Times it was a whopping $5 even. I said to the man, "$5 are you kidding me?", and he said that was right. After I read this New York Times, I better be armed with a special kind of knowledge, because $5 is ridiculous. If the USA Today was $5, I'd understand it, because o their gratutious usage of color throughout their pages. In just a few short hours, I went from a convenient delivery service not appearing on my doorstep, to spending damn near $7 on two newspaper purchases. Unbelievable.

So naturally, my next move is to call the New York Times, to see what kind of sweet delivery deals I can get.

It is around 9am on Saturday morning, and I have more energy than you could shake a stick at. I got plenty of sleep last night in preparation for my alleged flag football game this morning, because it was cancelled because of rain and a poorly drained field, which is complete and utter bullshit, but hey I don't make the rules. So then I went out and did a 3 mile run, and then took a shower hoping that would make me sleepy, but I STILL have energy. My gym opens for basketball in exactly 90 minutes, so hopefully I can hold out until then, but watch me fall asleep in an hour...

I saw the movie I Love You Man, which was actually an alright movie, although there were some borderline ghey moments that aren't at all representative of two heterosexual men who are friends. Or perhaps my own insecurities are once again coming to light..who knows. Rashida Jones was not bad to look it at either..

You'd think with all this energy, I'd be able to write something more creative, but not so much...

Here is a good interview of Questlove from the Roots

Loran's Dance - Grover Washington Jr.

I was running late this morning, which means I was forced to take the dreaded train into work. I try to avoid the train, because the crowds force me into situation I'm not comfortable with..i.e..smashed genitals, smelling someone ones underarms, and just repeated violations of my personal comfort zone space. So for that reason, I usually take that 20 minute walk into work. The good part about taking the train is that I usually have some good blog material to choose from. Today is no different.

Even though I was late, I was in an unusually good for undisclosed reasons, and whenever that happens, I make sure to choose a song on my IPOD that will maintain if not enhance my good spirit. On this particular morning, that song was the 1995 hit Runnin' by the Pharcyde. I know all the words, the beat is infectious, and when turned up loud, it just makes for a damn good experience. While I was outside and the music was loud it was no problem, but as soon as I stepped on the train, this lesbian couple(nothing to do with the story, I just noticed them kissing, mildly groping and hugging) stopped what they were doing and rolled their eyes. Now I saw this but I ignored it because my train ride is a grand total of 3 minutes (two stops) and surely they'd get over any mild inconvenience they may be feeling. Not so much.

The bolder woman of the two waved her hand in the air to get my attention, and I removed one of my headphones and the following conversation went down

Her: *waving her hand*
Me: *removing one headphone* Good morning!!
Her: Good morning, um, you're music is like really loud, would you mind turning it down a bit?
Me: Yeah I would
Her: Excuse me?
Me: Yeah its Friday, I'm feeling good and the next stop is mine so I'll be out of your hair soon
Her: Well that's fucking rude
Me: More rude than you groping your girlfriend's breast a few minutes ago
Her: That is love first of all, and I doubt anyone was looking except you
Me: Hey well I love this song so, we're even right
Her: Whatever

And then my stop came, and I told the lesbian lovers to have a great day and a Happy Easter, and the one who was being groped gave me the middle finger. And THAT is why today is called Good Friday.

Coming soon to a theatre near you....

This will probably read more like a diary than a blog..

Yesterday towards the end of my work day, I went to the restroom to fix my clothes in the mirror and tidy up a bit. As I was taught when I was about 5 years old, I pulled my pants down to my ankles, smoothed and pulled my shirts all the way down, the pulled my pants back up, tightened my belt, re-smoothed my shirt, and then I looked in the mirror to re-evaluate my situation.

Since I had gotten dressed at around 7:30am that morning, I hadn't really realized what my full ensemble looked like until just now at 5pm, and I realized that I looked kind of good. Its not often I feel this way about what I put on, so I was reveling in this moment. This is going to sound very Sex-And-The-City-ish, but normally there is an extreme disconnect between an outfit I think looks good in my head and how good it actually looks on me. I say all this to say, I got it right yesterday for once. So while I was in the mirror acknowledging this mini-miracle of me getting the execution of an outfit right, I started doing this stupid Johnny Gill dance(the one he does at the 2:48 mark of the video), and I was cracking myself up..

But then someone walked in the bathroom in the middle of me acting like a jackass, and I was caught. I tried to just stop and hold the pose, but that had me looking even crazier, so I just acting like I was washing my hands, and I rolled out of there. Unfortunately for me, the guy who walked on me "dancing" happened to be a security guard for my building, so now I have opened myself up to a ridiculous amount or ridicule and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

Thank God there no cameras in the restroom.

Only You - Jill Scott
I think this is now my favorite song of her latest cd. Although I suspect Anita Baker would do it way more justice

When you're in college accumulating friends and having a good time, you never stop to think about which friends you'll be talking to 15-20 years later, at least I didn't. You're more focused on stealing bread from the cafeteria, or putting in for a $5 pizza, or making side deals for room privacy during the week. Then as you become an upperclassmen, you still have some degree of closeness, but ultimately the goal is to graduate, and that becomes the primary focus for everyone who hasn't failed out or made plans to stay 6-7 years. Finally you graduate and move into your own lives and you make promises to stay in touch that vacilliate between coming true or making you a boldface liar. But its not from a lack of effort, its just how things are.

But then something happens when you hit your 30s. You've settled deeply in your everyday life, but that nostalgia that used to be an intermittent fleeting feeling, has now become a staple in your life. You damn sure can't go back to school, so the next best thing is to re-connect with person(s) who would most identify with the good college experience. For me, that's my man Sabin.

Sabin, his wife and two daughters met up with my lady and I at the Georgia Brown's(I'd like to give a shoutout to the sweet cornbread with the peach butter) for a good dinner, and we had a ball. We ate good, had good conversation, talked about kids, college and life. At one point I said to myself, 17 years ago, when we started as broke ass college students, I'd never have predicted we'd been sitting in this semi-expensive restaurant with our families. I won't say I felt old, I just grown. And that's a good thing.

By the way, how many of you watched Connecticut women win last night? I'm just curious. When I got back from dinner I watched part of the second half but much like the men's final, it was anti-climactic.

Dreamer - Prince
I bought this new Prince cd, and its about a 6 out of 10 so far. But I LOVE this song.

First off, let me take the time out to recognize my lovely lady friend who won the NCAA pool I asked you all to join several weeks back. She won by a comfortable margin, and she is indeed a superstar. Some of you who read this very blog should be ashamed to have gotten beaten so badly. I exclude myself from her wrath, because my son did my picks for me, and as much as I admired his gumption and his fortitude, his picks sucked. I would have won had I done my own picks. But let me not be a backhanded compliment person..congrats to m'lady.

Originally, I was convinced that my first published book would be a collection of blog entries, and a couple of years ago, I was going thru the slow, painstakingly tedious process of editing each and every entry. Taking out names, deleting the musical selections, and making sure no one could sue me. After awhile I lost interest, and I just stopped, not knowing how or when I would break my first book cherry. But a few days ago the idea hit me, and I am going to roll with it. I am going to write a book entitled, "My Second Year Covering The NBA (Because I Didn't Take Good Notes During The First One)". And yes that would be the entire title. In it, I would discuss my wonderful experience regarding the NBA, all while using the type of colorful language that I usually have to censor. I am very exciting about it, and I will never mention it again until after next season. Then at that point, I will hit you with jihad levels of begging and all that. At some point I'll write a serious, non-sports book but not right now.

End of a Love Affair - Wes Montgomery

Several months ago, I wrote about my man Brian, who is one of the PR guys for the Washington Wizards. I mentioned that he was battling a rare type of brain cancer, and was chronicling every good and bad thing that happened along the way. Well Brian had some damn good news this past Thursday, I neglected to link it my blog last week so here it is.

Other than that, not a lot to say today. I have a busy day ahead.

Please read my article.

My beloved Washington Wizards pulled off a wonderful upset last night, and I'll be writing an article on it later on today for Hoops Addict. But in the meantime, allow me to mention something that will NOT be in the article.

Last night at halftime of the game, I met Michael Bivins of New Edition fame. He was about Emmanuel Lewis' height so I barely recognized him, but once I did, I stopped him and engaged in the following conversation:

Me: Mr. Bivins? How are you sir?
Bivins: What's good family?
Me: I don't want to bother you, I just want to say I grew up with you, N.E. and B.B.D, and I've always been a big fan
Bivins:: Aw man I appreciate that..wait are you with the media (he saw my press pass)
Me: Yes I write for a site called Hoops Addict
Bivins: : Oh ok that's cool
**awkward pause**
Me: : Ok well enjoy the rest of the game, I gotta get back to my seat
Bivins : *gives me the handshake/half-hug* No doubt baby, thanks for the love

Now, maybe I should have interviewed him right quick, since he is a huge basketball fan, but to be honest I didn't want to. I feel stupid going up to people I know and admire sometimes, because after the initial introductions, there is ALWAYS an awkward pause that I live my whole life to avoid. When I am doing basketball related interviews this is never a problem. If I were to meet Michael Jackson, Obama, Alan Greenspan, Obama, Roger Federer, or any person from my list of people I want to meet, I'd never run out of things to say. But Michael Bivins is kind of a mid-level celebrity, and 2 seconds into our convo, I said in my head, "Oh no what have I done?" Still, it was worth a blog mention.

By the way, the whole time I was talking to Bivins, I was wishing I had a basketball in my hand, so I could spin by him, and tap him on the head, as seen at the 3:32 mark of the video below:

Yesterday was one of those days when nothing seemed to consistently go right, and it even affected the way I slept. It was also one of those days when I wish I had someone/something to take my anger out on, so I wouldn't just carry it around with me...like paparazzi or TMZ. I would loved for them to have been following me around with cameras yesterday, so I could go crazy, throw their cameras around,drop some F bombs like Joe Pesci and then walk away laughing feeling better about myself..but I digress. Although I only got an hour of sleep last night tops, and I feel MUCH better, and I'm ready to take on the world.

I also would be remiss if I did not mention one more thing. Last summer, I devoted quite a few blog entries to the woman I shared an office with. She had some serious health issues, and to share an office with her was just driving me crazy. The noises that came out of her body combined with the detailed conversations she had about her condition, just totally distracted me from doing my work and I felt like they were work inappropriate. Well now almost a year later, that same co-worker is in the hospital, and her health has deteriorated to the point, where no one, including her family, is sure she's going to make it. And she's only 59. I don't regret a solitary word I said about her last summer, because I meant each and every thing I typed. But I'm also just as sincere in hoping she pulls through, and comes back to this office to annoy me from a different office.

Not in a good mood today. Not at all. But I don't want to whine, bitch or moan. So I'll post my article right here, and leave it at that for the day.

Part 56 of the "you know you're getting old when" chronicles...


I've been getting calls and updates from my mother all year about my grandparents. My grandfather has been battling prostate cancer, and my grandmother is the in early to mid stages of dementia. My grandfather is at that age (84) where chemo would really take too much of a toll on his body, so he just kind of lives with it. My grandmother is a spry 77 years old, and she can still out-talk anyone on the face of this Earth, but she's slowing down, forgetting things more often, and facing limitations. Up until now, my grandparents have been living in house in Akron, Ohio, and my mother and uncle try to check on them once a week. But recently, remedial tasks like taking out the trash and going to the store to get groceries have become huge challenges, and our family has decided to put them in a retirement community, which is a glorified nursing home, but not really.

In 3 weeks, my mother and uncle will be having a send off party of sorts for my grandparents, and my lady and I will be there to support them. I am ashamed to say that I have not seen my grandmother since 2007, and I haven't seen my grandfather or been to Akron since 2006. I kept saying I'd get there, and then I would selfishly thrust my life and its issues ahead of my family, and before I knew it, a full 2-3 years had elapsed. The last time I saw them, their challenges had not really kicked in full throttle, so it was like old times (no pun intended). Now, I am mentally preparing myself to be alarmed at the differences, and it just sucks, but its reality. Not only that, I have to pay close attention to how my parents age, but I wil find myself in similar situations eventually.

The second way I know I'm getting old is a little more light hearted. Last night, former Georgetown star Alonzo Mourning got his jersey retired by the Miami Heat. I can distinctly remember being an 11-12 year old kid, reading the high school section of Street and Smiths College Basketball magazine, and seeing Alonzo Mourning's name as a future college star. Then I remember being in high school and seeing Alonzo dominate and intimidate everyone at Georgetown. Once I went to THE Hampton University, Alonzo was with the Charlotte Hornets, and because the Hampton area didn't have a professional basketball team, and Charlotte was just a couple hours away, at least 3 or 4 times a week, Alonzo was on the local networks, playing hard, starting fights and battling with Shaq. Once I was out of college and into the working world, Alonzo moved to the Miami Heat, retired because of a kidney disorder, had a transplant, came back and won a title, and I ALWAYS followed his career with interest and intrigue. So when I saw him crying and getting emotional, I got a little choked up too.

I didn't cry though

Norman Brown - Acoustic Time

I made the Washington Post!!!!
(see the link below the video)
Hoops Addict is taking over the (sports) world!!!
or something like that

When my son was here with me a few weeks back, we got into a discussion about sports posters, and which ones I had when I was younger. I told him the first two sports posters I had were Michael Jordan, James Worthy, and Eric Dickerson. I explained to my son that I put each of them up with ugly manila masking tape, and my father promptly took them down and asked me to put them up neatly, and that's exactly what I did. I then asked my son what posters he currently had in his room, and he said none, and my mouth dropped. For my son to be as big of a sports fan as he is and his mother and stepfather had not purchased any type of poster, was just criminal, but correctable.

So a few hours later when we returned to my house, we sat down at the very laptop I am typing on now, and we went to allposters.com, and found posters of his two favorite basketball players: Dwyane Wade and LeBron James (I spellchecked them Ryan). We ordered them online, and they were to be delivered to his house in one to two weeks. Last night, when I called my son, he informed that not only had the posters arrived, but he (by himself) put the posters up that same day, and he was happy to finally have some posters of his two favorite athletes.

I have a lot of resentment, anger and frustration regarding my role in my son's life during the past 11 years or so, but I try my best to put it behind me. And when rewarding moments like that take place, I tend to forget all about, and just soak in the moment, and it felt damn good. Eventually he'll tell his friends, his cousins and down the road maybe even his kids about the first poster(s) he ever received.

I asked my son how he put the posters up, and he didn't say manila masking tape..he said he used push pins. Smart man.

If you have not read my article on Gilbert Arenas returning to the Washington Wizards on Saturday, please read it.

Body and Soul - Cassandra Wilson

The Return of Gilbert Arenas

*Disclaimer* - When it is time for my lady and I to have another child I will happy with a girl or a boy.


So today after my swim lesson, I hit the shower, dried off, and headed towards my locker and in the back of the locker room, when I noticed a father and his 4 or 5 year old daughter. I saw the both of them in the pool earlier, and I must admit they were cute. The daughter was getting a lesson, any time she got scared, Dad was right there with words of encouragement. When the little girl did something right, the Dad was right there with a high five or a handclap. The dad tried his best not to undermine the swimming instructor, and the swimming instructor tried her best not to undermine the parent. It was a great give and take and the child was definitely in good hands.

Once the lesson was over, there was no way in the world the father could walk around in the women's locker room, so that brings us right back to me seeing them in the men's locker room. The daughter kept running all around the locker room, and luckily for her and the Dad, there was no one else around. But at one point, I was clutching to my towel for dear life just to avoid any awkward situations. They took a shower together, and then went back to Dad's locker, then they went to the sink to blow dry her hair, then they walked out.

Now, maybe this guy was a single father, or maybe mom had to work or maybe Dad drew the short straw and had to take the girl to the locker room, but it just look awkward. I wouldn't be showering with my little, and I damn sure wouldn't feel comfortable parading her around a bunch of men. I think I'd be paranoid that my daughter would see too much too soon, and then turn into some wild sex maniac (hyperbole). I am terrified of having a daughter just because of those possible awkward moments.

Feel free to tell me how irrational I'm being.

Before you do, please read my article.

Prince killed it last night. Wanna see it? Here it go

So I am listening to the podcast of PTI on my way into work this morning, and I hear that this a new book on Larry Bird and Magic Johnson written by Seth Davis that I want to read. Last week I heard Chuck Klosterman on a podcast, and I decided that I had to have this book of his. And then earlier last week, I found out that a book by main man Bill Simmons is going to be re-issued with about 84 new pages. Besides the fact that I listen to way too many podcast, I was able to glean a pretty important fact about myself, and that is I don't read enough.

Currently, I have about 6 books that I've bought over the past year, that I've barely started. I basically am treating books the way women treat shoes. I like the way they look, and I cannot immediately use them, but I know at some point I will, and when the moment comes..ta daa they will already be in my possession. That is no way to treat something as precious as a book, but I do it nonetheless. Typically how it goes down, is I'll buy a book, ride the momentum of that exciting purchase for about a week, and read the first two chapters of it, and then I abandon the book. Either a sporting event will be on, or my lady and I will get caught up doing something, or I'll be writing..but I don't get back to reading.

Just two weeks ago when my son was here, I stressed to him the importance of reading all the time, and not just at his age, but all his life. I told him the more he read, the better his vocabulary would be, the more he would know, and the more impressive his writing would be. But now here I am collecting books like AIG collects bonuses, and nothing is being accomplished...that is until today.

Today is March 27th. I vow to read a book a month for the remainder of the year, and after I finish, I will post a review on this very blog. I figured if I said this, as opposed just thinking about it and keeping it in my head, all 5 of my readers would take me to task and hold me to it. You may be saying to yourself, "A book a month? That's nothing". But let's delve deeper.

The following sports events are coming in the month of April:
1)The NFL draft
2)The NCAA Final Four and Championship game
3) The Masters Tournament (pronounced tuhn-a-ment)
4) The NBA Playoffs

Wish me luck.

Clipse of Doom - Ghostface
This song is far from worksafe, so use your headphones. I work out to this song, and I suggest you do the same. Ghostface is for the children

Tony Kornheiser on the Today show:

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

If you've paid close attention during the last two years I've been blogging, you know that I am huge fan of ESPN host and former Washington Post columnist Tony Kornheiser. When he wrote for the Post, I'd read all of his works, when he had a radio show, I would listen religiously, and when he appears on some one's podcast, I make sure to download and listen. Even though he comes off as a cranky old man, who constantly rails about how the old days were better, he is an excellent writer, and beneath that crotchety exterior there is a brilliant man. But by his own admission, he is virtually unapproachable, he'd rather talk about American Idol than sports, and he has the attention span of an 11 year old..which brings us to me.

I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Tony last year during a Wizards game. It wasn't an extended interaction, it was just basically a hi/bye situation, and at that time, it was enough for me. There were lots of people around, and I was thankful that I got a chance to squeeze myself in(that's what he said) and say hello. I saw Tony again last night, and the circumstances were quite different. I was walking back towards the press room to get my cell phone, and I saw Tony putting on his coat, fiddling with his cell phone and walking towards the door of the arena.

Immediately I checked my pockets to be sure I had my recording device, and I did. Then I checked my breath to make sure it was minty fresh, and it was. Then in my head I tried to come up with at least 3 or 4 questions I could ask him to get him to talk, and although that was a bit of a struggle, I can honestly say I felt pretty good. Mind you, all of this mental preparation happened over the span of about 10 seconds, so there was no time to waste, although i certainly did my best. So now all I had to do was break into a slight job, say excuse me Mr. Tony, and get the damn interview..but I froze..but with good reason.

On his radio show, Tony used to talk about how he hated being approached and interviewed, because it was awkward, and depending on what he was doing, he would just basically blow you off. Not only would he do that, but then he'd get on his radio show, or whatever venue he was frequenting at the time, and basically rip and laugh at you. When I was just a listener, I would laugh and appreciate this behavior, because it was totally up my alley, and I KNOW if I got famous I would do this at least 30% of the time. But as a journalist trying to get a story, this was NOT a good memory to be etched in my brain. So instead of getting a fantastic interview that I can rave and rant about, I have a fantastic blog about what could have been. I watched Tony disappear out of the door, and I just sat there shaking my head. But the third time's a charm right?

As an addendum, I wrote this blog, BEFORE I knew Tony was going to be on the Today Show.
He Comes - De La Soul
Allow me to say, that if you like hip-hop, and De La Soul in particular, you need to pick up their CD, The Grind Date. Yes its a few years old, but its one of the best CDs you've never listened to, I promise you. Much better than 90% of the hip-hop you currently hear
now.

Chik-fil-A is healthy!!!!

I had two major milestones happen to me this morning, both of them occurred before 7am. The first happened around 6:15am while I was at the pool, when I swam half a length of the pool without any help. There was no floatation device, no swim instructor, no guidance, not even another occupant in the pool with me. I was one with water and chlorine, and I succeeded for half a length of pool, not once, twice, but four times. After the fourth time, I tried to get cute and push myself a little bit, but I ran out of energy and damn near killed myself. At least I have something to look forward to the next time.

The second miracle happened around 6:45am, and this one requires some background. Every morning when I am walking back from the pool, I see the Washington Post guy throwing newspapers from the street to various doorsteps around my neighborhood. This always holds a special place in my heart, because I too was a newspaper delivery person when I was a 10 year old living in Connecticut. Anyway, I always see this gentleman throwing papers around, sometimes I think to myself, "Rashad, you should try to run and catch one of these papers mid-air". Now that may sound crazy and juvenile to you (that's because it is) but I thrive on such fake athletic achievements, and I was not going to be denied. Usually I am so tired from my swim workout, and that I can't even fathom picking a newspaper out of thin air. But I was feeling high and mighty after my Phelpsian half a length of a pool performance, so I decided to give it a gander. I watched the delivery guy pull up slightly in front of me, and throw the paper from his car to the doorstep, and took over running like another Olympic athlete, and with my Ipod headphones on, I caught the paper with my right hand(not my strong hand).

The guy who threw the paper looked me dead in the face, shook his head, and just drove away to the next destination. Clearly he failed to recognize the feat that had just been conquered right before his very eyes. There was a guy walking his dog a few steps in front of me, and he was laughing his ass enough. Curiously, the dog did not seemed amused and he started barking and growling like Chewbacca. I had done something he had done countless times, but I gave it more flair and class. After I reveled in my feat for about 30 seconds, I put the newspaper down where it belonged and continued to walk home.

You probably think I am joking or making this up, but I'm really not. That really did feel good, and I really am just that simple at times. Besides, I bet you didn't do that much before 7 am this morning.

All for Love - Bilal

So Mr. Michael Jackson allegedly will be touring in London this summer in what is being billed as his last European hurrah. He's doing something like 40 shows at 50 years old, and I am sure it will be a dazzling display assuming it really happens. If it does, here is my dream writing assignment...

Because Michael is a perfectionist, I am quite sure he starting practicing and getting his body into shape BEFORE he called this press conference. He probably just tested his body and his vocals a little bit just to see if they were serviceable, and once they were, he decided that he could really go through with the intense preparation it takes to put on 40-50 shows. I would like to take my little camera, my pen, my pad and my laptop(redundant I know) and follow Mr. Jackson from now until he's finished with his shows. I'd want full access to his band, his handlers, his background singers, Michael himself, and by the end of the experience, I would want to be considered as one of his boys...well men. Here would be my selling point..

I'd tell Michael look..yes you sold out all 50 shows, and yes this may give you a false sense of confidence again, but you still have numerous fans to win over. So why don't you let me write and film you, you can have a slight hand in the editing process, and we can release this as a DVD. This will get people excited for a possible new album, this will allow people to get a better perspective on your weird ass, and it thrusts me into a higher tax bracket. Plus you've never allowed anyone to have this kind of extended access. And on top of all that, I am a fan, so I won't exploit you like that Bashir fellow. Everyone wins. It sounds like a good enough idea right? We'll see.

Another Part Of Me - Michael Jackson
aka the Captain Eo song..

If Barack Obama's bowling experience makes him feel like he's a Special Olympics participant, then I am right there with him. And unlike Obama, I am not apologizing for using Special Olympics athletes as a point of reference. I am not making fun of them or mocking their accomplishments, but the reality is they have serious physical and mental issues to overcome in addition to the athletic event they are attempting to conquer. Obama and I bowl like we are overcoming some deep serious physical challenges, when in reality, we just plain suck.

This past Saturday, I bowled a 64 and a 94. During my first game, I had three straight turns of straight gutter balls. My ball would start off so promising, and then it would find a home in the gutter. My lady and the other 4 people in attendance tried to be polite at first, and then they just started laughing at me straight up. When the second game started, I showed tremendous by starting off with a strike, and then I was just inconsistent from that point on. Everyone else was having fun, and so was I up to a point, but I was mad that at my lack of bowling skill. Now, for the excuses.

1) I hadn't bowled in 8 years
2) I was drinking beer while bowling
3) I'm left-handed (so is Barack by the way).

I'm dragging my girl and whoever else wants to come back to a bowling alley, and I'm upping my game. In a completely unrelated note, I would like to thank my main man sixfive, who put me on to Goldie, per my request on Friday. I know I am late catching on to the drum and bass, but I am loving it nonetheless. Thank you. I would also like to thank the men in my gym for continuing to parade around nude at 6am. That's how you start off a work week.

House of Cards - The Foreign Exchange

There has been no hot water in my building since around 7pm last night. I could not take my customary night shower, and I did not wash dishes, because dammit, my dishes deserve damn near scalding hot water as well. I did shower at the gym this morning, but since I am usually still sweating on my walk home from the gym, I needed another one once I got home and I couldn't do that. So I had to boil some water and wash my body like an 8 year old who inexplicably avoids showers. Let me tell you something, a hot shower makes you feel like you can conquer the world. Your soap has you smelling good, your genitals are free of the funk you've carried around, and any problems you may have had in your life are just magically gone. But when you have to just wash up without a stream of water beaming down on you, there's no freshness. There's no disappearance of problems. Instead, there's a scowl on your face , and anyone can catch a beatdown if they cross your wrong. No matter how much you wash up, lotion up and throw cologne on, you don't feel fresh at all, and you might even randomly start itching. That is me today. How's that for a pretty picture?

This reminds me of my brother when he was about 9 or 10. He would run the shower water, wet his face towel, then proceed to sit in the bathroom for a good 15 minutes doing nothing. Then he'd wrap the towel around himself, brush his teeth, put lotion on his bone dry, unsoaped, unshowered nasty ass body, and parade around the house and school like he was THE man. (I think I've told this story before). My father got wind of this, and made my brother stand at the end our driveway, facing the main street. He was ashy, he was dirty, and this sad look on his face. Meanwhile I was in the window laughing at him..although at some point I felt bad for him, and I told my dad I was going to get him, and my dad just walked upstairs without saying anything to me. From that point on (I think) my brother became a believer of showers. I don't mention this to slam my brother, but I mention this because now I know what he felt like as a youngster, and frankly, it ain't nothing nice.

Oh, and no trash talking about the NCAA tournament until after today's games are played. We have a long way to go.

One more thing..I think I want to start getting into drum and bass music, so if anyone can recommend about 10-15 standout drum and bass cds, that would be great.

Lick - Joi

If you live in DC or if you visit the area and you would like to take yourself or whoever you're with to a nice dining establishment, I highly suggest a restaurant called Nora's. I took my lady there for dinner last night, and I was highly impressed with all aspects of it. The service was impeccable, the waiter (who looked like a ghey Gilbert Arenas) was extremely helpful and detailed with his descriptions of the items on the menu. And the food, which was marketed as organic, was both filling and light if that makes sense. And to top it off ,the after dinner drinks (although they were expensive as hell) were perfect. Noras is definitely not the kind of restaurant you'd visit monthly, but if you want to treat yourself to some fine organic food, I highly recommend it. If you do decide to go, when you leave, you can walk one block to my apartment, and my lady and I will more than happy to accept the extra plate of food you brought us.

The NCAA tournament starts in about 2 hours, so if you haven't joined my pool, I really would appreciate it if you did. The details are below:

Go here http://tournament.fantasysports.yahoo.com
The groupID is 65718
the group name is Synchronicity
the password is rashad

By the way, I think my son heard my lady and I having, but I can't prove it, but I'm dying to ask him if he heard anything. My lady asked me not to write about this, but I just had to get a sentence in, because I think its hilarious. My lady thinks we're horrible people, but come on, what kid hasn't heard that at some point?

Sly and the Family Stone - You Caught Me Smilin Again

When I was younger, and my commute to and from work was a little longer, I used to read the Washington Post cover to cover, and I even had a set routine. To me the Sports page was the centerpiece of the paper, so I'd tease myself and not read it right away, thinking that the longer I delayed it, the better it would be once I finally laid eyes on it (I think I use this tactic regarding "finishing" sex too..). Anyway, I'd start with the Style section, where I'd read about the hottest entertainer or I would casually glance at a review of a CD I was considering purchasing. Then I'd gravitate to the depressing Metro section where I could catch up on who got shot, the corrupt police department, and a feel-good, warm and fuzzy mom and pop store. Then I'd read the front page, where I'd get my international and national news. I wouldn't read every damn story, but I would read enough so that if asked, I could have a little something intelligent to say about a broad range of topics. But the sports page was the crown jewel of the paper to me.

The sports section at the Post housed my two favorite writers, Tony Kornheiser and Michael Wilbon, and I would try to read their columns first and foremost. Then I'd delve in the scores, the numbers, the beat writers etc. But then a funny thing starting happening...People stopped reading newspapers, and they preferred to read books, magazines or printed articles from the internet. All of a sudden newspaper readership dipped and dipped, and great columnists that had been with newspapers for years and years, were either bought out or they gravitated to television instead. For me personally, my commute became shorter, so I stopped going to the newspaper vending machines, and I just read certain articles on the internets.

I feel myself rambling, so let me get to the point. By this point next year, at least 3 or 4 major newspapers could go under. You'll hear people the blame the recession, but that's bullshit because that industry (along with the automobile one) was on a decline prior to this monstrous recession. I don't know what the answer is, or how to reverse this trend, but it just makes me sad. I've been reading the newspaper since I was 5, and now, barring a miracle or a brilliant rescue mission, they will slowly go under. What the hell am I supposed to do on Sunday if I can't read the paper? How will great stories and great writers be immortalized if a computer crashes and the data can't be retrieved, and there's no newspaper?

I have no answers, and I have no point. This is just a knee jerk reaction to me hearing that the Boston Globe is near death. And then on top of that, one of my favorite local writers who covers the Washington Wizards for the Washington Post, Mr. Ivan Carter, is leaving newspaper, to be a television host. How dare the internet and television usurp my favorite medium like this?

Pretty Baby - Eric Benet
Dedicated to my lady (whose name I've managed to not mention all this time..pretty impressive) who turns 36 today. Happy birthday to you, and thank you for deciding to rob the cradle by choosing me.

Each and every time my son leaves, I tell myself not to get upset, not to tear up, and to think ahead to the next visit, instead of reacting to the one that's just been completed. I actually had gotten it down to a science. I would make sure that both of us were laughing when we separated, and I'd let the memory of his laughter carry me through, and then by the time that memory faded, I would be fine. But when you drop your son off at the airport, and then an airline employee takes over for you when you can legally walk no further, and you watch both the employee and your son walk towards the plane, there's no smiling there. There's no laughter. There's part frustration that you can't see your son all the way through, and then there is a greater degree of sadness that this boy that you've created and loved closely, but mostly from afar for 11 years, is now leaving again..So after my son walked down the ramp towards the plane, I found a nearby gate with a seat near the window, I pulled my hat down, and once again, I cried. I didn't even try to fight the tears this time...

However, those tears quickly turned to anger and impatience. He boarded at 5:25, and he was supposed to leave at 5:55, but the sat at the gate until almost 6:30. Apparently there was a microphone malfunction in the pilot's cabin, and it took awhile to fix. I must have bugged the United staff at least 45 times in 30 minutes, asking them what was going on. Finally, at around 6:35, the plane with my beloved son it took off, and I left and embarked on that long 30-45 ride back to my apt. It was weird not have him in the car, or in the apt, but the sad reality is, in a few days I'll get "used" to it again, and I'll put all my hopes into the next visit. That's how these things go. Fortunately for me, the emotional pendulum will swing back in my favor, since my lady's birthday is tomorrow and the day after that the NCAA tournament starts..speaking of the tournament, if you scroll down you will see the information needed for you to join my little bracket challenge. My picks were done by my son, so surely you don't want an 11 year old to beat that ass do you?

Gettin Up - Q-tip

Today is my last day with my son, so I'll make this short and sweet. If you'd like to join my NCAA tournament challenge, here is the info

http://tournament.fantasysports.yahoo.com
The groupID is 65718
the group name is Synchronicity
the password is rashad

In the meantime, here is a humorous ESPN commercial:

3 generations of Mobley
last picture I promise..

My son Carlton and my nephew Nazir
In my kitchen...on the Ides of March at 1:40pm
I'll get back to writing tomorrow, but its so rare that I get to see these two together, I thought I'd get this photo up.

My son is here, and all is well. The above picture was taken at the Newseum earlier today. Today at the Newseum, we learned that I live one block away from where Ronald Reagan was shot back in 1981. How cool is that?

It is NCAA tournament time again, and I would like to encourage you to join my pool, before other people bother you and get you to do the same. Here is what you do.


Go here http://tournament.fantasysports.yahoo.com
The groupID is 65718
the group name is Synchronicity
the password is rashad


Even if you know absolutely nothing about college basketball I encourage you to play, because it really doesn't matter. Anyone can win..I know I sound like Ed McMahon right about now, but I'm serious.

This morning on the train, I watched this married couple talk, laugh and joke around with each other for 10 minutes(which is how long I was on the train). They talked about dinner, watching The Office later, and what their plans were going to be for the weekend. While I was listening and watching, I found myself saying, "Damn, they sound like my lady and I." This couple seemed totally oblivious to the millions of people on the train around them, and I immediately wished my lady was with me, so I could ignore everyone too. But she wasn't so I was forced to stare.

When my stop came, I guess the wife's stop came too, and they hugged tight, they told each other to have a nice day, and then the husband leaned in for a goodbye kiss, and the wife backed away. The husband thought she was joking, and he leaned in again, and this time the wife leaned back, but then put her right hand up and said no. Now I don't know if anyone else saw this, but I damn sure did, and I laughed out loud(by accident) and they both looked at me, and I looked away and acted like this man. At this point both the husband AND the wife got off the train, and before I went up the stairs to the train station, I heard this conversation.

Husband: What the hell dude, why are you backing away?
Wife: I don't like kissing you on the train and in public you know that?
Husband: Dude you're my wife, what's the big deal? what the hell?
Wife: I'm not going to argue with you here, I love you, and we'll talk when we get to work
Husband: Oh come on Marie(her name I guess), that's bullshit

And then she walked away, and was on the stairs not too far behind me. That is some cold cold shit man..frigid even. I am not the most affectionate brother ever made, but I kiss my lady damn near wherever I want (that's what he said), and I give the proverbial (and sometimes the actual) middle finger to anyone who dares to say anything. Of course I don't get flagrant with it, and grope her like a pervert in a club, but I show subtle affection. But if I leaned in to kiss my wife after a fantastic train conversation, and she snubbed me, I do believe I would go into an apopletic fit right then and there. That's just wrong.

I will admit though, 18% of me admired her boldness. I bet they talk later and she'll apologize, and he'll be angered a bit, but then he'll be engulfed in the throes of his work day and he will forget all about it. Then as he's on his way home, the husband will remember his wife's actions, and it is quite possible his anger will return as he steps in the house. But the wife, being the intelligent woman that she is, will get home just 5 minutes before he does, so that when he steps in the door, she will have her knees comfortably resting on the welcome mat and then......

Minnie Ripperton - Inside My Love

Are there any black scientists out there? If so my man Brian from Hampton has a message for you.

Here is the link

and here is the video message:

When I first starting attending the Jewish Community Center for swimming lessons, I must admit I was a bit nervous. 90-95% of the members are Jewish obviously, and aside from some of the employees who cleaned the building and worked the front desk, I didn't really see anyone who looked like me. I saw one black woman hanging around the pool one day, and I saw another one on the basketball court, but no black men. Still, I enjoyed the facilities, everyone was nice, and I decided that I'd be the Jackie Robinson of the JCC. And for the first few weeks, I had no incidents to speak of...that is until this morning.

Even though I have weekend lessons, I try to get to the pool at least 3 times a week to practice what I have learned. I try to get to the gym around 6-6:15, and I swim 30 minutes..partly because my stamina isn't where I want to be, partly because I don't want to be sleepy all day while I'm at work and partly because there is 30 minute swimming rule when the people are waiting, and I never want to be in position where I have to rush. There is usually one other guy in the pool with me, and we say hi and bye, and that's it. There is also a lifeguard/front desk person who is there every morning, and we speak every now and then.

So this morning I arrive around 6:10(pay attention to the times here), I change, and then go back to the front desk at 6:15 to grab a towel, then I head for the pool, where I am the first one to arrive. I mentally make a note to myself that I have until 6:45 to my little workout in. The guy who usually swims with me arrives about a minute after I do at 6:16, and then a woman (who was black..surprise surprise) gets in the pool about 6:20. For a good 15 minutes it is just us in the pool, and then an older gentleman arrives around 6:30, and he just swims in the same middle lane as the black woman. About two minutes later(6:32) the black woman, who I guess has a cold, starts coughing uncontrollably, so she gets out of the pool. We now have three lanes occupied again, when another guy emerges from the locker room, surveys the three full swimming lanes, looks back at the lifeguard/front desk guy, then hesitates. It is now about 6:34, and the front desk/lifeguard guy comes over to MY lane, bends down, and says:

"Sir, we have a 30 minute swim rule we try to follow here, so that no one is waiting too long"

I looked him dead in the face for about 10 seconds, then dipped my head back into the pool. This jackass then met me on the OTHER end of the pool, and the following conversation went down:

lifeguard: Sir, did you hear what I said, we have someone waiting here, and its been 30 minutes for you
Me: Do you even know what time I got in the pool?
lifeguard: I know you got to the gym around 6:10
Me: But do you know what time I got here?
lifeguard: I'll say 6:10
Me: At 6:10 I hadn't even grabbed a towel yet, and even if I did, I still have 5 more minutes right?
lifeguard: Yes five minutes (looks back at the guy waiting and repeats five minutes)
Me: But I actually I got in the pool at 6:15, so I have 10 more minutes (I look at the guy waiting and hold up 10 fingers with a smirk on my face and get back in the pool).

Now, first of all, as I've said earlier, I don't even swim longer than 30 minutes, so they NEVER have to worry about me violating that rule. Second, the previous guy who encountered a full pool, simply got in the water and shared a lane with someone without complaining..like you're supposed to do. Thirdly, if you are going to be Mr. Thorough about timing my pool minutes, the least your punk ass can do is clock me correctly. And lastly, what I SHOULD have done is extend my lesson by 2 minutes, since that's how much of my time was wasted talking. Oh..and fifthly(i know that's not a word) the guy who was waiting should have interrupted the lifeguard's interrogation of me, and said the following, "That's ok, that's cool I'll just wait!" or sat his eager ass down for 10 minutes. That is what I would have done.

My apologies to my lady who I basically woke up at 7 am, so i could bitch and moan about this. I should have just sat down at the computer first.

Carousel - Michael Jackson
After hearing numerous "singers" butcher Michael's song last night on American Idol, I felt need to hear the real thing.

I know I haven't mentioned my son too often, and that's because he is living in Tuscon, Arizona, way too far from me. But, he is on his spring break right now, and from this Friday to Monday, he will spending time with me...finally. 3 days is not nearly enough time for us to do all the things I truly want to do, but I try my hardest to squeeze everything in (that's what she said). One of the main things I want to do is have yet another sex talk. We had one last year, and as expected his eyes glazed over, and he was noticeably uncomfortable as I threw around the clinical terms for words and actions that he almost definitely heard the slang terms for in his young 11 year travels. I identified the organs, told him where to put things, told him what women have, the feelings that go with it, and that he should try to wait until he's much older, but if not he MUST be protected. But now he's been away from me for several months, and although I've asked his other two parents to pick up where I left off, they are semi-competent assclowns, and they probably didn't do jack. I will gladly do it again..

I can readily admit though, the thought of my son doing the very thing that I did to bring him in this world, creeps me out beyond belief. Its not quite as bad as having to face the mental pictures of someone(man or woman..just to be fair) going in and out of my daughter, but it is still an image that I never hope to see or picture you know? In my mind he's still that infant who can't hold his head up, and smiles up at me when he sees me step into the room. Now he's 11, on the brink of puberty, and when he sees me he has that look of indifference(a look I also possess) 90% of the time. Not to be crass, but something tells me he and that look of indifference are going to get more ass than I can shake a stick at, and as a father how do I prepare him for that? I'm sure I'll figure it out right?

Anyway, besides that, I am very excited. I hope he is too. Oh and one more thing, the movie Watchmen was TERRIBLE. It was too long, too violent, and the plot just wasn't very believable. I've heard there is a book to go with it, and that's much better. We'll see about that. I want my money and my 3 hours back.

Synchronicity - The Police

So after my 30 minute swim lesson this morning, I decided that I wanted an additional workout, so I went to play basketball. Initially when I stepped on the court, there was only one other guy out there, so we both shot on our respective baskets. After about 20 minutes, folks slowly starting filtering in, and eventually there were 6 other people, 8 of us total. Seven guys and one woman.

Now I've played with and against women before, so this was no big deal to me at all. She was on my team, and she clearly had game, and after about 5-10 minutes, I was way more concerned with my team winning the game, because to lose would mean I'd have to sit out for at least 15-20 minutes.

At one point, I made a shot from the outside with a hand in my face, and my teammates all high-fived me...except for the woman. The woman bypassed my hand, and slapped me on the ass the way some guys do from time to time. Now, I didn't have time to react or say anything, because the opposing team was running down the floor, and I had to get back on defense. But in my head I was thinking, "Why the ass?" She could have opted for the high five like everyone else. Was she trying extra hard to prove that she was "one of the guys? Was she just trying to get a free feel? Or was I just over thinking things as usual? And more importantly, if I was to do that to her (which I wouldn't) what would her reaction be?

I was on her team for two more games, and I made plenty of good shots after that, but she never touched me again. After my last game I started to just ask her why she slapped my ass, but that would have come off as slightly neurotic right?

Do the Right Thing - Ludacris and Common

I wonder what percentage of people are late to work, because they were engaged in sex that went longer than they had originally anticipated. Someone needs to do a study and crunch those numbers.

So I was walking briskly with purpose this morning, because I was a bit late for work, when I stuck behind a woman who was dragging a backpack on one of those roller thingys. I was already upset that this backpack was on this roller, instead of on her back, which is where it was designed to go. But who I am to judge right? So I kept trying to walk by her, but at one point she changed directions quickly and ran over my toe. Either she didn't feel herself run over my toe, or she was just being rude, but she didn't even acknowledge it, but I let it slide. I was feeling good this morning, and I wasn't going to let a backpack roller bully mess that up. But then she did it a second time on the same toe, and I was livid, because she had the nerve to look back at me like it was my fault. And on top of that, the first thing out of her mouth was, "Excuse you!"

Now, there are times when I work myself into a lather over things that could easily be solved with a little tenderness. This was not one of those times. So the follow exchange happened:

Me: What the hell you say? (yes I'm an English major, but anger trumps correct grammar sometimes)

Her: I said excuse you, you kicked my bag for the second time (so she DID feel it initially..that's what she said)

Me: You hit MY foot twice ma'am, and perhaps if you put the BACKpack on your back, this wouldn't happen

Her: Whatever, can you just watch your step?

Me(under my breath but not really) Man f**k you

Her: Whatever

Now, I realize that was harsh, and my lady (and maybe others) are reading this and shaking their head at my language, but I feel like I did as well as can be expected given the circumstances. I'm trying to work on my mouth and my temper, so that I can take that elusive high road with Denny Green. Its just going to take some time. But still, you roll luggage, you put backpacks on your back. Those are the rules. No exceptions baby.

This Is The Time - Billy Joel
This is my favorite Billy Joel song for two reasons. One, if you're old enough to remember when CBS aired NBA games, they would do NBA finals highlights to this song. And two, at the 46 second mark of the song, he utters the lyric, "I haven't shown you everything, a man can do." I don't know why I like that lyric, it just seems like something cool to a woman during regular conversation..or foreplay. I think a lot my flaws are showing up in this entry.

I may have bee more inclined to write something beautiful and inspiring today, but I lost my keys this morning. I had them when I left the house, but somewhere between the gym and coming back home I lost them, and its very frustrating. I had like 15 year streak going of never losing my keys, and now I have to start over AND get new keys. So that has curbed my writing enthusisam greatly, so nothing today.

Here is the article that was inspired by yesterday's story. Please read it, I think you'll enjoy it.

People In Search of a Life - Marc Dorsey
Yeah I've posted this song before, but its a good song

I had an article to write last night for Hoops Addict, but I was having a hell of a time getting started. An interview that I had done earlier in the day didn't turn out the way that I wanted, I was sleep from staying up late the night before, and all I really wanted to do was relax and act silly with my lady. I took out my notes and my audio from the previous night's game, but my motivation was minimal. My plan was to check my email one more time before I went to bed, and then shut my laptop down for the evening. But when I checked my email, I saw a blast from the distant past.

I had an email in my inbox from my brother's godfather and a good friend of the family (we'll call him William), who I had neither seen nor spoken to in over 18 years. William went to Columbia with my parents, and he had stayed in touch with both my parents well after college. After my parents starting have problems in 1991 (they officially divorced in 1994), I suspect that he was one of the friends of the family who choose to believe my mother's side of the story and blame my father. This led to me seeing him less and less and eventually not at all. William's parents and niece lived in Hampton while I went to school, and I would see them, but I never was able to reconnect with him, and frankly I never tried. But apparently, he had somehow gotten a hold of the Obama/Wizards I had written, and I guess he was moved enough to contact me.

In the email, William updated me on his wife and now three kids. He apologized for falling out of touch, and he admitted that he had been keeping in touch with my mother, but had fallen out of favor with my dad. He also left his email address and number and asked me to give him a call sometime. I was COMPLETELY blown away, and although I was sad it had taken this long of us to reconnect, I was absolutely grateful to have a shot at making it right 18 years later. I returned his email and promised to call him later on this week, and then instantly I got the very burst of energy that I had been severely lacking at the start of the evening.

I took my notes and my audio back out, I pulled up the blank screen, and I took two hours to write the article. I had my lady read it over and make edits, then I read it over and added some things, and by the time I got in the bed it was damn near 2am. Of course by then my second wind has subsided a bit, but I was still too wound to sleep. I think I finally got to sleep around 3:30 or so, which means I'm sleepwalking today. But it was all worth it. You just never know where inspiration will come from.

Oh and when the article is up on the site, I'll post it up here. Its either really good or really bad given when and how I wrote it.


Bonita Applebum (Hootie Mix) - A Tribe Called Quest

When I worked at HUD from 1999-2005, there was this older black man who shined shoes right outside of the building. I would see him shining shoes of white and black men, and even some women would leave their shoes, and then pick them up later in the day. When a person was lucky enough to sit in his chair and have their shoes shined, this older gentleman would sometimes listen to the person bitch and complain about their day. On the days when a quieter person was in the chair, the gentleman would engage them about sports, the news of the day, women, etc. When you're in that profession, much like a barber or a hairdresser, you can ill-afford to just work in silence, because you want the entire experience to be memorable, not just the service you're providing.

On many occasions, I would walk by this brother, and say good morning, or ask him how he was doing, and he would say, when are you going to come get a shoe shine, and I'd jokingly say that I kept my shoes together pretty well, and we'd both laugh until I was out of sight. But the cold truth was, I didn't feel comfortable letting an older black man shine my shoes. Its not that I didn't respect what he did for a living, and its not that I thought his service was anywhere near substandard, I just felt like I was disrespecting him by allowing him to shine MY shoes. The picture in my mind was that here I was a late 20s/early 30s kid sitting in an elevated chair, watching an older, distinguished black man on his knees shining my shoes. I just couldn't do it. If it was a black woman, or any other race, I'd stick BOTH feet all in their face, and go to sleep in their chair until they were done. But an older black man, who could possibly be my father or grandfather? Couldn't do it. I stayed conflicted about this during my stay at HUD, and when I left I was happy to rid myself of that dilemma..or so I thought.

Before every Wizards game, in the bowels of the Verizon Center, there is yet another older black man who shines shoes. Granted, he shines the shoes of all the basketball stars, so its a much more glamorous and well paying job, but the premise is still the same. He seem=s me every evening there is a game, and says, "What's going on young brother?", and I always respond with, "You got it man!". Then he asks the dreaded question, "Do your shoes need shining?", and my tried and true answer is still, "Not yet, I don't think I do a bad job myself." He usually laughs and I laugh until I turn the corner, then I exhale, thinking I dodged yet another bullet.

But yesterday when I walked away and said that, it didn't feel like I let myself off the hook, and it didn't feel good to avoid that uncomfortable feeling. For the first time, I felt like I was ducking responsibility and being selfish to some degree, and I can't describe why that was. But what I DO know is that on March 11th, when the Wizards play at home next, I am going to get to that arena early, put my laptop down, take my coat off, get my shoes shined, and enjoy a great service and better conversation.

After all, I'm about five years away from being an old black man myself right?

Jerry Butler - Never Gonna Give You Up

So on one hand I am absolutely ecstatic that it snowed, and the federal government received a two hour delay. It allowed me to "sleep" a little longer, relax, and just not to have to rush on what would otherwise be a depressing Monday morning. I'm now here at work, and I'm rested and ready to take on the world. But I am a little disappointed that we only got 3-5 inches instead of the 10-15 inches I saw other areas receive. 3-5 inches gets you delays and minor inconveniences. 10-15 inches in Washington D.C. gets you home one day, and a 2-3 hour delay the next. That kind of day would enable to drink insanely strong mimosas, watch movies, go the gym at my leisure, and have a grand time. Still, considering the DC area hasn't had a snowstorm in a couple of years, I'll take it.

On Saturday night, my lady and I went to the Kennedy Center to see Mr. Kurt Elling and his band, perform a tribute to the great John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman album entitled, "Dedicated To You". By the way if you aren't familiar with Mr. Elling, then go here, and get acquainted with some of his work because he's a talent jazz singer. Everyone knows Coltrane, but to find more about Johnny Hartman, go here, because he too has good music and kind of a sad story surrounding him. Anyway, the show was excellent, the atmosphere was romantic and sexy, and we had a great time. And I told myself when I left, I'd do my best to promote both the artists performing, as well as the ones they paid tribute too. Judging by the lack of people at the concert under 40, jazz seems to be a dying breed among young folks, so any little thing I can do to promote it I will.

That being said, Mr. Branford Marsalis will be in DC this weekend. If you are interested in going, let me know, because I know someone who is selling discounted tickets.

My latest article is here.

Kurt Elling - Nightmoves

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