I will now document yet another reason why I hate people who don't understand sports..

As I have mentioned probably one too many times, my son is now playing football. First he said he wanted to play, then he quit, then he came back and earned his starting job back. His first game was last Thursday, and he had two tackles, but his team lost. Still he is just now getting back into the swing of things, and judging by the tone of his voice, he is pumped up, and frankly so am I. Yes I wish the games were on the weekend instead of Thursdays, but I'll take a day off soon to see him, no big deal.

So, last night as I'm talking to my son, I mention that I want to take this Thursday off, so I can drive down to see him. He mentions to me that he won't be playing this week, and when I ask him why, he tells me that his mother has planned a family trip to Mississippi this weekend. They are leaving on Thursday morning, and they will return. He will be missing school (an issue I won't even touch right now) and he will be missing his game. I asked him how he felt about that, and he said he was disappointed, but there was nothing he could do about it, but he was mad that he may lose his starting job.

So I spoke my son's mother, and she told me that she would be sure my son got his school assignments for the day he was missing, and that it was "no big deal to just miss one football game". I tried to explain to her that in an abbreviated season, where my son already has missed time due to his indecision, one week could cost him playing time and his starting job. Again, she hit me with the, "its just a game, and he'll be fine" and at that point, I just waved the white flag and hung up the phone. My mother used to say that kind of thing when I was young, and luckily for me, my father would jump in and let her know how important it was for me to attend to my sporting events (it was basketbal and soccer for me)..but they were married, so he had that "power". I have no such power in this particular issue and it infuriates me.

Anyone, male or female, who has played competitive sports during the summer, spring or fall, knows the importance of making all the practices and the games. Everyone is fighting for playing time and the coach's good graces, and you don't get anywhere when you miss time..even for a family trip. And unless there is a death in the family, why the hell are you taking a mini-vacation at the end of September? That's what the summer or a three-day weekend are for..

Rant over. Its Monday morning, so I'll attempt to keep my attitude positive. I stumbled on this jazz clip yesterday while I was looking for something else. Sarah Vaughan is on the vocals, Ron Carter is on the bass, Dizzy Gillespie is playing trumpet, Herbie Hancock is playing piano, and Billy Higgins is on drums. This is classic stuff whether you're a jazz fan or not. The song is 'Round Midnight.

It has been awhile, but I've finally written an article. Check it out right here.

FULL SCREEN
The Sounds of VTech / bilal_isthislove_web

Yesterday while I was here at work, three of my co-workers were watching a funeral that was streaming online. They had the volume up a bit too loud for my taste, and their reactions were similar to the ones you would hear at Sunday service--which would be perfectly fine if we weren't in an office. The funeral was for MaLinda Sapp, who was the wife of renowned gospel singer Marvin Sapp.

Now, I can readily admit that I had no clue who Marvin Sapp was until a few years ago when my mother made me listen to him in her car. So I only recently knew how big he is in the gospel community, and I definitely knew nothing about his wife. I also know that certain people here in my office, are heavily into church and gospel music, so they were all over this so the funeral was kind of a big deal to them. Having said that, I have a big problem with what went on yesterday for many reasons.

1) You're at work in a public office in a public space, which means anything coming out of your computer speakers at a high volume, needs to be in the safe confines of headphones. Unless President Obama is giving out vital instructions or something, there's no need for everyone within a 10 mile radius to hear you.

2)If you are wearing headphones, you have to still keep your reactions quiet. As I mentioned before, this was a funeral for a woman who was deep in the church, so it was the equivalent of an Easter Sunday service, and then everyone was grieving on top of that. So if I had taken a shot of Johnny Walker Blue every time I heard a "Mmmm Hmmm" or a "I know that's right" or a "preach brother", while I was at my desk yesterday, I'd have been drunk--and possibly agitation-free.

3)I mean this as no disrespect to the deceased (which means someone will take it as such) but I can think of three people who have streaming-online-funeral status: Michael Jackson, the President and the Pope. That's it, that's the list. Everyone else has to have a regular non-televised funeral, and then the program/playbill can be PDF'd, then sent to the entire world via email blast. I just don't think those things should be televised.

4)Why the hell would you want to watch a funeral anyway? I was "invited" to three funerals this year, and I only went to one, and it was an emotional rollercoaster. Of the 2 hours I spent at that funeral, the best parts were a)when I saw my high school buddies walking to the car as we left the funeral home, and b)when we started drinking afterwards. Nothing about the funeral had me thinking, "Man, this is must-see-tv, and I'm glad I came. But even when I've gone to funerals that were less sad, I still felt like it was a private, intimate affair for those in attendance--not something I'd look in on at work.

But again, this is just me, I'm sure someone can construct a beautiful rebuttal telling me why I'm wrong, and I'll probably read it and consider it.

Last Wednesday, my son's football coach called, and invited my son to their second game on Thursday. The coach told my son that he understood that he no longer wanted to play, but he at least wanted him to come to a game, and get a feel for how things would go. My son politely declined.

But Thursday after school, my son must have gotten hit with the urge to play, because he came home and told his mother he wanted to attend the game. So he watched the game from the sidelines, and he saw his former teammates getting hit, having fun, and competing hard, just like they had done in practice for the past month or so. When the game was over, my son went up to the coach and said, "I think I want to play again." The coach asked him if he was sure, and he said yes. The next day, my son was right in practice.

Last night I called my son and asked him how football was going, and he immediately broke into a story about how he got two tackles and a sack in practice. Because of his size (I still don't know where he got it from, I was 5'4" and 125 pounds when I was 13, and my son is 5'6" 155) the coach has him playing Defensive Tackle, so I asked him if he was the new Albert Haynesworth. He laughed at me and said, "No Daddy, I'm like Warren Sapp." Sounds good to me.

Tonight is his first game, and I wish it wasn't on a weekday, so I could see it. Next time I'll be there.

We Don't Need Another Hero - Tina Turner

So this morning, I just stepped out of shower after my swim, and I was naked and toweling off at my locker, when the lifeguard on duty comes up to me. He asked me how I was doing, and I bypassed the return greeting, and went straight to asking him what he wanted (you know, me being naked and all). He asked me if I'm good with computers, and I tell him I'm ok, and then he asked me to come to his desk before I leave. I'm quite sure I still had an incredulous look on my face, but I agreed to come check out his issue. I don't know how it is for women, but it is a serious man-code violation to run up on a man while he's naked at the gym. I'm comfortable with sexuality and all, but damn..

Once I got to his machine, he explained his issue. On his work computer, he has two email addresses he uses to log-in: His main one and his private one, and they both show up in his drop down menu, which is fine. The problem is, he has the same log-in situation at home, and he doesn't want his wife to know he has two emails addresses. I asked him point blank, why would you login to your private address at home, why not just keep that at work? His response? I want to talk to my "friends" at home and at work. I looked at him like really man? CLEARLY his wife is going to catch him doing something stupid in the next few days if not hours..that's how sloppy he is..but we pressed on..

I explained to him that I'm not exactly sure how to eliminate an email address from the drop down menu, but I'd find out for him, and he had this look of panic on his face like my answer wasn't good enough. Just then, two female swimmers came by the desk to get towels, and the lifeguard quickly, but loudly shushed me, so they could not overhear his plight. The two women looked back at me like I was doing something wrong, which instantly caused me to get annoyed. So finally, I told the lifeguard I had to go to work, but I'd find out from someone smarter than I am, how to solve his problem. He gave me his desk number, his cell number and his email address (the private one, I feel special), and told me to please let him know soon, so he could go home at lunch and fix it. I said I'd do what I could, and I left..15 minutes later than I wanted to..

I don't condone cheating at all, but I've done it before in my past, so I'm not naive and angelic here. But come on now, if you aren't smooth enough to conduct your emails in a discreet fashion, why the hell would you even embark on a cheating mission? Is it really worth it man? I really wanted to tell him this, but that too is a man-code violation. If he was my close male friend, I may have told him that he's not built for the cheating game, but since he isn't, it simply isn't my business. Still, I felt sorry for this guy but not really.. Wait, is this blog entry an example of me snitching? Is Suge Knight going to get me now?

As of this morning, I officially live in a city where an effective mayor is about to be replaced by an ancient one, simply because he is arrogant and doesn't try to be any one's friend...but he was still effective at his job. Of course I am grossly oversimplifying here, but not by much. Then again, this is the same city that elected a friendly, sporadically effective crook twice so why am I surprised?

If you're a Bilal fan, go buy his new cd. Its excellent, I'm listening to it now.

And finally, my son is playing football again. I didn't sweet talk him at all either. The coach invited him to watch a game, he regretted the decision, and now he's playing. My 300 plus dollars are back in action.

First off, please take some time to read this article by my main man (and colleague) Kyle. The Washington Wizards are looking for a new public address announcer, and they had tryouts last night. Kyle attended, and wrote an entertaining write up..

Secondly, I watched Nadal defeat Djokovic last night in the US Open Tennis final, and I was thoroughly entertained. There were two men at the top of their game going back and giving their all. Just as impressive as their athletic feats, was the fact that I was able to switch back and forth between that and the Monday Night Football game, with just a simple click of the remote (slightly annoying my fiancee o course)..but I digress. The best part about that tennis match, was not having to watch the smug Roger Federer win yet another title. I appreciate his talent and the effortlessness (is that even a word?) with which he performs, but he's just a smug bastard, who was his initials embroidered into his towels, his warm up suits, his hats, etc.. Only one man can get away with that kind of thing, and that's this guy and his logo. In contrast, Rafael Nadal is humble, he's initial/logo free, and he's damn good.

I realize only 3 of the 6 people who read my blog are sports fans, so this entry probably annoys you, but deal with it. Last weekend was one of the best sports weekends of the year, and I couldn't not speak on it..I mean come on, I ditched a party, a festival and an out-of-town friend to get all that sports watching in...

The video you will see below came on last night before I went to bed, and it reminded me of my freshman year at the The Hampton University. There was a Burger King on campus, and inside of that Burger King were two tv's that played videos all day long. My main man Sabin and I used to spent countless hours watching videos and eating unhealthy (but cheap) fast food. When that Mary J video came on we would watch carefully...especially at the 55 second mark..the 1:04 mark too.

Do you realize that in less than 3 months, I'm going to be a married man? It hit me just now as I was preparing dinner at 4pm on my day off. It hit me last Friday, as I watched my lady's sister and her long-time boyfriend, tie the knot in beautiful fashion. It hit me that during basketball season, when I'm covering the Wizards and talking to other writers who do to the same, I'll be able to say shit like, "Yeah you know my wife was telling me that the other day", and I probably won't be able to contain my smile. I think about the vast amount of dumb and irresponsible things I've done in the past, and the fewer number of dumb things I plan on doing in the future, and I count my lucky stars that my fiancee wants to marry me. That is all for now, this is a bit too sappy for my taste.

Below is an article from 9 years ago, written by my favorite writer, the late, great Ralph Wiley. The article dealt with why sports was so important after 9/11..I wish I could write this well.

The article can be found right here.

If that article is intruguing to you, the rest of Mr. Wiley's works are here.

Also shoutout to my main man Neil who is also a big Wiley fan. Sorry I could not attend your going-away-to-NY party my friend, but I wish you and your wife the best of luck.

Just the other day, I wrote a glowing love letter to my fiancee, and it was basically a preemptive apology for all the football I was going to watch today. But now that this glorious day is finally upon me, I am going to have to make a bit of an addendum. This is not just an incredible football-watching day, this is an amazing sports day period. Let's delve into this shall we?

1pm: Football games
2:30: USA vs Turkey in the FIBA finals
4pm: My Philadelphia Eagles take on the Green Bay Packers
3pm: Tiger Woods
3pm: WNBA finals
4pm: US Open finals: Rafael Nadal vs Novak Djokovic
8pm: Donovan McNabb vs the Cowboys
10pm: Mad Men

In the back of my head, I can hear my father's voice telling me: "If you're going to watch all that tv today, please make sure you get some reading done beforehand." So Dad? You will proud to know that I am going to read the Sunday Washington Post, from front to back, before I watch a bit of tv. In terms of my fiancee? I need to trick her into watching some of these sporting events, so I can lessen my guilt.

Welcome to the latest installment of "Accidental Moments of Ipod Brilliance"

Every other night before I run, I meticulously put about 150 songs on my ipod running playlist. Some songs I retain from the previous run, others get taken off because my mood has changed, and I never like to repeat songs on consecutive runs, so those get removed as well. So in your mind, picture me hovered over the laptop, moving songs around like my ipod is a Soul Train Scramble Board. You may be curious as to why I have 150 songs on a running playlist, when I won't even go through 10 of them during my 5 mile run. And my answer to you is that I like variety..if I had 20 songs on my playlist, I could pretty much predict what was coming next, and then I'd get irritated and distracted, and my 5 mile run would suck, and then I wouldn't be in shape. It's a vicious cycle that can be prevented by me putting a copious amount of songs on there.

So anyway, right before I went running this morning, I scrolled down to my playlist, I hit shuffle, and the I was off. Around the four mile mark, this song came on:


and then right after that, this song came on:


Now what are the odds that two songs, out of 150, with the same beat, playing back to back like that? I was so happy and inspired by this stroke of genius, that I ran that last mile in 2 minutes..yes 2 minutes. Now you can laugh at me, or trivialize this accidental moment of brilliance, but if and when it happens to you, I promise you'll feel the same way. As a matter of fact, I am pretty sure something like this HAS happened to you, but you failed to share it with anyone, because you thought it a)it was too inconsequential to discuss out loud or b)it has only happened to you. Hopefully I have freed you from the shackles of silence..

Dear Fiancee,

We have had a great Spring/Summer. We kicked it off with our wonderful engagement, and it continued with all the wonderful money spent towards planning..in fact that seems to be the gift that keeps on giving given the current state of my back account. Anyway, we went out to eat, we shared great happy hours, we watched The Wire, Newsradio, and countless other television programs. We kept our arguments down to a minimum, survived an air-condition-less June, and we did other things that will not be discussed in this blog (my future mother-in-law is reading). To sum things up, I have absolutely enjoyed our time these past few months, and I hope you have too..in fact, I hope you bottle up and save it because...

Tomorrow night the football season starts when the Vikings take on the Saints tomorrow night on NBC. From now on, my Sundays and my Monday nights will be filled with real and fantasy football. I'll watch football on tv, and then run to my laptop to see how my fantasy team is progressing. I know I should find a better way to balance you and football, but after 3+ years of us being together, you should know that I cannot. Its not that I don't love you, its just that football reigns supreme..its an unstoppable force that has been sweeping me up off my feet for 30 years or so. I can't stop it, I can only hope to contain it. Plus, next year there may not be a football season, because of NFL labor issues, so you have that to look forward to right?

Also adding insult to injury, is the fact that the Washington Wizards will start their preseason activities at the end of the month, and that will further cut into our time. As you know, writing for the Wizards is basically my second job, so that's a legit reason to occasionally snub you..Please know that none of these things lessen my love for you, they just may lessen my time. But I pledge to have a strong presence in your life, on those rare days when there's no basketball or football. Also, please know that I am not one of those guys who needs to leave the house, and go somewhere to get sloppy drunk just to watch games. I can sit at home, alcohol (and shower) free and create the illusion that I'm right there with you, when in reality, I'm lost in football...

And when all else fails, and you're ready to kick my ass or curse me out, look forward to that glorious Dec. 11th date when we will be married in Miami. That should bring a smile to your face..hell I'm smiling while I type it.

Love,

Rashad

So this morning during my walk to work, I noticed a woman with a rather short skirt on in front of me. It wasn't short like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman (the first and only time I will ever work that movie into my writing) but it was short enough to be drawing attention from the men around me. So at one point, this woman got her heel caught in a grate, and she dropped her purse, and all the contents of her purse were strewn about the sidewalk and the grass (thankfully not the grate). I saw this unfold in front of me, but I kept walking, because there was another woman right next to her, who was more than happy to help. I didn't keep walking because I'm an ass or I'm insensitive, but I did so because a woman's purse is personal (even when its all over the city sidewalk), and I wouldn't want to help her clean up, and then find something that would make her blush.

Anyway, as I walked by the short skirt woman and her fallen purse items, I noticed that there was this guy in front of me, who was walking fast, but steady looking back at the woman. At first I thought he was just debating on whether to go back and help the fallen woman, but I knew that couldn't be the case, because someone was already helping her. But he kept walking forward, and then looking back, and after the fifth or sixth time he did it, I decided to look back to see what the hell was going on, and I immediately saw it. The short skirt woman was on all fours picking up purse items, and by doing so it revealed the fact that she had NO...I repeat NO underwear on her person or her ass. NONE. If you don't know what a woman bent over with nothing on her ass looks like, and you haven't gotten laid in a while, I have some lovely movies I can refer you to...

Now, after I looked once, I kept walking and didn't look back for a few reasons. 1)I noticed several guys looking at this, and it felt like a creepy fraternity to be a part of..2)there were women around who were looking at the panty-less woman, but they were also looking at the guys looking at her, and it wasn't a good scene, and 3)my boss is out today, so I needed to get to work a bit early. But I ended up being slowed up once again because...

The guy in front of me was so busy looking back while walking forward, that he didn't notice that he was trying to cross a street without the "walk" sign. So he got halfway across the street, and then about 4 or 5 cars zoomed by him, and he screamed, "Oh sh*t" and tried to go back to the curb, but he was stuck. So here he was in the middle of the street yelling like a crazy person, cars are honking at him like crazy, but no one's letting him cross, and on top of that, his vision of the naked beaver was completely blocked. I can't even begin to tell you how hard I was laughing at this dude, and I know he saw me laughing too, but what the hell was he going to do to me at that point? Finally, there was a red light, and he crossed the street, and he looked back at the woman, but she was long gone.

So what's the lesson here? If you're going to be pervert and look at naked ass, or down a woman's shirt or at a man's crotch, it should be a looking-at-the-sun situation. Get one good look, store it in your mental rolodex, or even whip out a camera phone and snap a pic really quick, and then get the hell out of there. Failure to do so, will get you caught in the middle of the street like a scene out of the movie Bowfinger

I love Carlton (my son), I love him with all my heart and soul, but this morning, I want to hit him in the chest about 500 times in a row like an watch him stumble around like Trevor Berbick. This morning, he informed me that he no longer wants to play football, because his heart isn't in it anymore. It wasn't because he wanted to find the Lord, like this guy and he didn't have a serious injury like this guy, he just lost the desire to play.

Now, I can readily admit that I never wanted him to play football anyway. The new information we are finding out about concussions is very scary, and the players are getting faster, stronger and bigger at a much younger age. My son himself is only 13, and he's 5'6" 155lbs, so I know he was going to hit and get hit frequently, and I was worried. Because of bad grades and circumstance, he hadn't played football in 3 years, so I worried if he'd still be able to play, and it turns how he could, but he didn't want to anymore. I get that.

Plus he (like his father) started to take a serious interest in basketball, and even though I beat him with ease the last time we played, I can see talent developing..and he plays almost everyday. On top of that, he's been playing golf since he was 4, and he wants to revisit that as well, so he has other sports he can play for now. He knows academics and not sports are the way to college, but he's athletic and he should take advantage..BUT

I spent over $300 on registration and equipment not even 3 weeks ago, and so for him to pull this quitting sh*t is irritating as hell. And as much as I want to see him play basketball, I'm going to have a hard time forking over one cent towards this. So I told him he is going to have to write extensive proposals to his mother and me, explaining 1)why he should be able to play basketball, 2)why he won't quit prematurely, and 3)how sorry he is for this grave inconvenience. Its not the same as getting my damn money back, but its a pain-in-the-ass for him, so that will have to suffice. But when he gets his first paycheck, I am SO garnishing..

I can pretty much guarantee nobody cares about this but me, but that's fine. I like finding samples of my favorite hip-hop songs, so I found that this classic Diamond D song:


was taken from this original


and all this time I thought it was taken from here (skip to the 7:29 mark)


I find this fascinating..sorry if you don't

Last week I left my building to go get two cookies from my local Potbellys, and there was nothing but determination in my eyes. I work out, I pay my taxes, and I talk to God at least once a week, so I think I am entitled to two cookies once a week. Its the American way...anyway, as I left the building, the security guard looked at me and the following conversation went down:

Security guard: "Have a good night sir!"
Me: "I'm just going to get a cookie my man, I'll be back!"
Security guard: "Ok then we'll see you shortly" (I hate when a singular person uses the plural form..why not just use the third person and be all the way annoying?)
Me: "Alright then."

Right before I headed out of the door I realized I forgot my wallet, so I headed back towards the security guard, and headed towards the door that led to my office. But before I could get there, the same security guard put his hands on my shoulder and stopped me, which led to this conversation:

Me: "Whoa, whoa, what's with the touching?"
guard: "I need to see your ID"
Me: "Man I haven't even left the building yet, and we just had a conversation, and you KNOW I work here man..plus you could have said my name, all the touching wasn't even necessary"
guard: "Just show me your ID please"
Me: "You're really on your job today man"
guard: "I'm just trying to do my job sir"
Me: "I see that"

Now, so that I did not risk my job or being detained somewhere, I shut my mouth, got my wallet, and went on about my business of cookie purchasing. But I remember telling my lady later on that night, that sometimes security guards don't use common sense to do their damn jobs. When I first come in the building in the morning, I understand being ID'd..I can understand it after lunch when masses of people are coming in and out..I can even understand it if I left the building for an hour and then came back. But when I leave, talk to you, and then turn around and walk by you, all in a 15 second span, and you STILL ID me? That's not in the spirit of what security guards are for..

But when I see incidents like the one that happened at the Discovery Channel yesterday, I'm a bit more appreciative of the measures that are taken to be sure I am safe. You never know what can happen on any given day, and there are times when even security guards aren't save (like last year at the Holocaust Museum in DC). So this morning when I walked in the building, I went to the security guard who jerked me around last week, and apologized for sassing him, and he returned the favor by apologizing for touching my shoulder. It was a tender moment, and I'm sorry it wasn't taped (actually it probably was on the security cam), but I meant what I said.

And since no one died in that hostage incident, except for the person who caused it, I can make a semi-humorous observation. With the exception of the movie, "Inside Man", have you EVER seen a successful hostage situation? Does anyone ever break in a building, get hostages, negotiate terms of their escape, break free, then show up at Chik-fil-A the next day? It never works, yet people do this every year, and it blows my mind..I suppose that's why they are criminals though right?

My lady has been working later hours recently, which means that most of the cooking burden will now fall on me. I've been able to avoid it this week, because of my sickness, but now that I'm back at work (still sick, but playing hurt) it is high time that I start meeting the challenge. As it stands right now, I have some solid dishes in my cooking repertoire:

Salmon (with broccoli or asparagus)
baked chicken breasts (with spinach)
dirty rice
tilapia (With spinach and maybe rice)
turkey burgers (made with A-1, bbq sauce and a secret ingredient)

Now this may look putrid and boring to you, but you'd be surprised how much mileage I've gotten out of this the past 2 years or so..plus it helped that I only cooked a few times a month. But now that I'm transitioning from part-time to full-time cook, my limited repertoire will be exposed, which means I need to expand. I'm sure I can scour the Internet for cooking recipes, and I know I have some friends who can throw down in the kitchen as well, but it would be much easier if I could get everyone to send me some good dishes and post them in the comments section..please

So I ask..no beg of you, to contribute any fun, tasty and quick recipes for me to try. Actually you can submit your long, drawn-out recipes as well, because I can tackle those on the weekend. I do have some limitations though:

1)I don't eat beef or pork
2)I hate snow peas, brussel sprouts and non-cooked onions
3)I don't eat fried foods

Please help me out here, I'd greatly appreciate it..both my lady and I thank you. Now if you excuse me, I must go back to trying to give all of my co-workers this wonderful cold that was given to me.

By the way, why can't the President give a major address without the aid of a speechwriter? I certainly understand that some speeches have to nailed in one take, and any "umms", "uhhs" or extended pauses could lessen the strength of the message..i get all that. But some people (like me) would appreciate a little deviation from the script. He's an intelligent man, I'm sure he had some mental bullet points laid out before the speechwriter got a hold of things, why not just speak your mind. What's the worst that can happen? You're the f**king President you're going to get criticized and praised before and after the speech anyway, why not go down with your own words, as opposed to the ghostwriter? I'm sure someone smarter than me has the right answer, but still...

One of the drawbacks to being sick (besides missing, being awake since 3:57am, and being totally congested) is not being able to workout. I haven't done jack shit since Saturday when I ran a strong five miles. Sunday was my day off from working out, Monday is when I got sick, and I still feel bad today. Tomorrow, I will attempt to swim a mile after not working for several days, and I'm sure I will be gasping for air just to get halfway done. I'm not trying to get sympathy here, I just talking out loud.

This past Sunday, I watched all four hours of Spike Lee's documentary, "If God Is Willing and Da Creek Don't Rise" and I must admit I was pleasantly surprised. Much like Michael Moore, Spike has a tendency to get a bit heavy-handed with his movies and documentaries..meaning he beats you over the head with whatever point he's trying to make. But with this documentary, he got out of his own way, and he just interviewed folks and shot a beautiful movie. Its not easy to watch, it makes you cry, cringe and flat out angry. But most importantly, it sparks discussion, and it makes you realize that New Orleans is still suffering, despite the lack of media attention. I must admit up until this 5 year anniversary, I hadn't though about Katrina and its victims since the Saints won the Super Bowl.

*And as an aside, if you do watch the Spike Lee movie, you'll see my main man Shawn Escoffery featured in a few interviews. He's a talented, smart brother who is not only a good photographer but he does good meaningful work for the city of New Orleans.*


Roy Hargrove & Terence Blanchard
Uploaded by Itsme. - Watch more music videos, in HD!

Today is my off day, but I will be relegated to the bed all day, because my lovely, lovely bride-to-be has given me a cold. These things happen when you live with someone I suppose, but it does not make me feel any less miserable. I was all prepared to write a beautiful entry about how annoyed I am when I go to a bar and there are non-sporting events on the television..but I don't have a lot of energy.

I did want to plug my latest article though. I would also like to report this sad news about the Oxford Dictionary.

I have a little pussy
Her coat is silver gray
She's in a great wide meadow
She never runs away
She'll always be a pussy
She'll never be a cat
'Cause she's a pussy willow
What do you think of that?


That poem is called, "The Pussy Willow Poem" and it is straight out of a 3rd grade workbook. This particular section of the workbook is called, "Making Inferences" and there are three questions at the end of this poem:

1)Why does a pussy willow never run away
2)Why will this pussy never grow to be a cat
3)Really, what is the "coat of silver gray"?

My friend Nichole told me that this is her from her nephew's workbook, and when she saw it she died laughing. I really, really wish I was mature enough not to join her in laughter, but I am not. Not even close. I think this is hilarious, and you'd best believe that if I were in the teacher in this class and this came up, I would do everything in my power to skip this page in the workbook. I know pussy willow is an innocent term for (some) third graders..but I also know that throwing around "pussy" without its best friend "willow" is just recipe for parental tampering..and no teacher really wants that..

Let me remind you that I'm 35, I have a 13 year old son, and I'm getting married in December, and I'm up here laughing about pussy willow poems...

The Roots - Pussy (Willow) Galore

I have spent a lot of time on this blog talking about all things related to me, and that really should not be surprising, given that my name is in the URL. However, today I'd like to spend some time talking about someone who is actually related to me, and that is my brother Jamal.

As you may or may not have read, Jamal, my sister-in-law and my nephew left the DC area at the end of June and headed north to Brooklyn, NY. But their place was not quite ready yet, so they had to stay with her mother in Trenton, New Jersey for a few weeks. My brother had yet to find a job in NJ or NY, so he had to commute back and forth to his old job here in the DC area. He would spend weekends in NJ, look for a job in NY during his off days, drive back to DC to work, and then he'd crash with me before repeating the cycle. Since I am his older brother, I was very concerned about the toll this was taking on all aspects of his life..but he convinced me he was doing just fine (lies).

Then finally at the start of this month, he had two favorable interviews, and he felt like one of these employers would hire him. Then he had two more follow up interviews with each emloyer, and the momentum was seemingly building..but all the days he was taking off from him DC area job, were starting to add up. He knew he either had to get a job quickly, or quit the DC job to free up more time for interviews, family, etc. He asked my father and I for advice, and we told him to quit his job and take a chance. He quit his job on a Monday, and shortly thereafter he got offered a job in NY..the same weekend he and his family officially moved into their place in Brooklyn. All was well, but not really.

Although Jamal was happy to have A job, he did not get THE job he really wanted. THE job had a much higher salary, allowed him to do what he really wanted to do, and it would also help him in his business on the side. I told him that given he had just moved, and money was tight, he needed to take the job, but he was hesitant. And sure enough, this past Monday when I emailed him to ask him how his first day was going, he told me he informed his employer that he would not be working there..before his first day of work. Now when he told me this, I literally said out loud, "dude what the f**k are you doing?" But Jamal calmly told me that he wanted to hold out for what he really wanted, but all I kept hearing were the (un)sweet sounds of poverty. Sure his wife was working and all of that, but nothing beats a two salary household. I was officially worried..

But yesterday, my brother called me and told me that THE job he wanted had been offered to him, and he gladly accepted. He's making more money than he's ever made, and he's happy that he can conduct his side business, see his family, and start settling into his new life in Bed-Stuy, NY. So Jamal if you're reading this (and you should be), let this situation be a reminder that you should never, ever listen to me or anyone else for that matter. You knew what you were doing all along, and it worked out. And now I will link a corny, hokey song in honor of your situation

I Knew You Were Waiting - George Michael and Aretha Franklin

I had a stifling case of writer's block yesterday, and it had me completely flummoxed. Usually I can tell how well of a writing day its going to be, by how easily a blog entry comes to me and yesterday I felt good. Then my editor asked me to write an article about this article and I just froze up completely. You wouldn't think that such a simple task would cause a problem, but it did. For 4 hours, while I was at work, I started that article about 6 or 7 times, and each time it felt forced and unorganized. Finally, I told my editor that my writing powers had failed me, and I'd have to pass on the assignment, and he was understanding. But that has never happened to me before...never. I thought of another article I can write, and I plan to get started on that today, but I'm still embarrassed about what happened yesterday..but I've talked to two different people who write for a living, and they told me it happens, and it will happen again. I can't wait.

I had a dream last night that Michael Jackson was alive and giving a private concert in the woods by my old house in Potomac, Maryland. There were about 50 people in attendance, and during my dream he sang Stranger in Moscow and then he sang "Wanna Be Startin Something". After he finished the last song, he took his shirt off, yelled at the top of his lungs, and then told the crowd that his official US tour was scheduled to start in December, and I believed him. I swear the dream was so real and vivid, and I woke up feeling sad. I guess this is related to his birthday coming up..I wanted to hear more though..

And finally, in something that means nothing to anyone except me, I'm growing my beard back and flecks of gray are appearing all over the damn place. My innocence is gone...

The End of the Innocence - Don Henley

This past Saturday, I made the decision to upgrade my son from a prepaid cellphone plan to a regular one (aka I now have the family plan). I really resisted this for about 3 years, because I simply did not trust my son to not run wild and crazy with the minutes. But when I learned that I could put a cap on the number of minutes he had to play with, I just went ahead and made it happen. I bought a refurbished phone as opposed to an expensive, brand new one, and I have allotted 500 minutes per month which should be more than enough time for my son to conduct his important 13 year old business. I told his mother about this, and I asked her to monitor his phone usage, when he is not in my presence. I also spent a good 20 minutes talking to my son, about the conditions that came with this new responsibility (good grades, don't take the phone to school, don't let anyone borrow it, stay under your minutes, no sexting, etc). And with all of that, I still feel like a sellout.

Just yesterday, I spent an entire blog entry waxing nostalgic about my first day of school and all the emotions that went with it, and nowhere in there did I discuss my cellphone. I got my first cellphone at age 23, and someone I was able to function just fine up until then. Now here I am trying to assuage my own guilt about buying my son one, and depending on when you catch me, it really isn't working. I wonder if I'm guilty of the "long-distance parent" syndrome, which magically causes one parent to heap unearned gifts on the child they don't see often enough. I wonder if the phone (even though its refurbished) is going to cause other kids around him to get jealous and (try) to fight him for it. I wonder if his grades will slip or if his mother will call me one day to say that she found female genitalia in his phone (its hard to be mad at that, but I'd ratchet up some anger somehow).

And then I come to my senses and realize that I am co-raising a good son, and even though he's at that age where kids really start testing their parents, he has rarely let me down in the behavioral department. Not only that, thanks to T-Mobile online, I can monitor his every text, phone call, and picture that comes in, and then I can call him up and ask him wonderful probing and invasive questions like, "What was going on at 4:45am when you received that text?" I'm quite sure he'll appreciate that. So this morning at 10am or so, when he receives the phone and the list of directions/instructions I typed up to go with it, I am sure everything will go smoothly...I think I've convinced myself with this blog entry..

Europe - The Final Countdown

As I sat in bed trying to convince myself that work and not calling out sick was the best way to proceed with my Monday morning, I noticed that today is the first day of school for certain kids in the DC area. I'm sure there are some kids who have had this day circled on their calendar for weeks now. They've picked out their outfit, their shoes, their accessories, their ringtone, the members of the opposite sex they plan on redeeming themselves with this year, and all that. Then you have those other kids who think its bullshit that it is still 80-90 degrees outside, and now school is back. These kids don't move a muscle until their parents poke and prod for 20 minutes, and then they purposely drag until they set foot in school. Then once they see friends and catch up with everyone, they slowly come around. So of course this caused me to think about my favorite first day of school, which was in 1989.

In 1989, I was 14 years old and I was entering 10th grade, which meant this would be my first day of high school. There was also an inaugural 9th grade class coming in below me too, so I knew I wouldn't be picked on too much. Plus, I knew most of the 11th graders from junior high a couple of years earlier, so I felt comfortable for the most part. But the thing that stands out to me the most, was my first day of school outfit.

Spike Lee's, "Do The Right Thing" had come out earlier that summer, and I made it a point to get a T-shirt, because I knew I wanted to wear it on the first day. I also had recently bought the soundtrack on cassette, which meant I could listen to Public Enemy's, "Fight The Power" on the way to to school. My jeans were black and non-fancy, my haircut was fresh and symmetrical (my father didn't allow anything too crazy), and my belt was plain and black. But my shoes, at least in my biased opinion, were the best part of the entire outfit.

Although the Washington Bullets were my favorite team back then (and now), Big Game, James Worthy of the Los Angeles Lakers, was my favorite player, and I just had to have the shoes he wore. They were New Balance, they were purple, gold and white, and I was positive that no one else in school would have them, since Jordans were all the rave (and I was right). The only bad thing was I was about 5'4", I weighed around 115-120lbs and I wore a size 10 shoe..this meant you see these Worthys coming, way before you saw the rest of me. Still, you couldn't tell me I wasn't fresh--although I remember some kids trying to tell me just that. Great times.

And oh yeah, I had a crush on Rosie Perez.

Townhouse for rent

and wise words from Will Smith:

What's the protocol on men sending other men emails that end in smiley faces? And is there ever a scenario when its acceptable? My straight, male co-worker (who is out today) sent me an email with a smiley face in it, and I feel some kind of violated...

If I see one more person on television, facebook, twitter or on email, type a sentence and then end it with, "let's go!" or "let's get it" or "you already know what it is", I am going to slit their wrists, and step on their fingers. None of this makes sense to me, and I don't even care to sit around get an explanation as to what any of it means. Why can't people just talk regularly? Why do people abbreviate and lazily misspell words on purpose? Why does music suck so bad as of late? And what does it mean to "Dougie"?

That's my disjointed rant for today

So, I am on a mission of sorts, to create a specific kind of playlist on itunes, and this is going to sound a bit random, so please bear with me. Last night, while I was watching some boring preseason football game, the song, "Love Ballad" by LTD came on via itunes. If you've ever listened to that song closely, you'll know that the last 1:45 or so, Jeffrey Osborne just keeps singing the chorus over and over ("What we have is much more than they can see"), and then in the background, he's improvising (or riffing as we call in the business), and it makes for a pretty entertaining way to end the song.

D'Angelo, on his second cd entitled, "Voodoo", also had a song where he followed this same formula. The last 1:58 or so of the song, he sang the chorus over and over, and then went back and laid some improvisational vocals over it. Its a hard contrast to explain, but when you hear it, you'll know what the hell I'm talking about. And then once you realize what I'm talking about, perhaps you can help me find some other songs that are similar to it. And they don't just have to be R&B, then can be soft rock, rock, metal, I don't even care...Jazz is excluded though, because I need these songs to have vocals.

Just in case you are still thoroughly confused I will link the two songs in question:

Love Ballad (start at the 3 minute mark), and ignore the creepy graphics


The Root (start at the 4:35 mark)


And again, if you can think of any other songs that fit this description, please let me know..

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I would like to dedicate this blog entry to my best friend..even though I am 100% sure that this friend has never, ever placed his two eyes on this blog, he still is my best friend. That man is my father.

Mr. Mobley turns 60 years old today, and if he ever answers his phone, I will be taking the drive up to Baltimore to treat him to a meal. As I told my son when he turned 13 last Friday, everyone has milestone birthdays. There's 13, 18, 21, 30, 35, 40 and then 50. After 50, you make a big deal of 60, and then after that, every year is a big deal, and much be celebrated as such, and that's exactly what I plan to do.

An ex of mine called me a "daddy's boy" one time, and I really can't disagree with that. When I was younger, I used to cry when my father went out of town, and I'd be right there at the garage when he got back. When I played basketball and ran track in high school, I really couldn't get settled in until I looked in the crowd, and saw him give me the thumbs up. When I was in college, our relationship changed a bit. I was in college trying to find myself, he was getting divorced from my mother and remarried to some woman who was an ass (but she worked for an airline, so I got free buddy passes to fly wherever), and we drifted a bit. We still talked often, but the depth of our conversations was affected a bit.

Since college, we have gotten close, and I'd venture to say that since I've gotten in a serious relationship, we've gotten even closer. I lean on him for advice, I joke around about things, and I find myself listening to his issues even more, which is how I think the evolution of a father-son relationship should go. The last step in this relationship comes in the form of me taking care of him, but I hope we have a ways to go before we get there.

So, daddy(yes I call him that at age 35), if you're reading this (I know you aren't), I would like for you to a)pick up the damn phone so I can make that hour drive in the pouring rain to see you b)Have a happy 60th birthday and c)know that your son Rashad loves you. I would also like to apologize to my brother Jamal, who probably that HE was my best friend, and not my father. Sorry man..we may not be best friends, but in the words of Gwendolyn Brooks, "we real cool".

Ain't Too Proud To Beg - The Temptations
my father's favorite song, from his favorite group

Right across the street from my house, there is a Rite Aid, and for reasons that I have yet to fully grasp (as far as I know, they have all the regular items any drug store holds), they have security guard at the front door. I think they have three to four gentleman they rotate during the course of the day (its a 24 hour Rite Aid), and for the most part, they are pretty cool. They don't have guns or handcuffs, but their uniforms are sharp and they do have cool walkie-talkies (I'm sure there is more formal name for these contraptions, but saying walkie-talkie reminds me of my youth) There is one who follows my lady around the store a bit too much for my liking, but that's relatively benign, plus my lady has stolen before, so they gotta lock that down.

I make it a point to speak to all of them, because 90% of the people who come in and out of that store, just completely ignore or talk down to them. I was taught a long time ago, by my main man Cliff's father, that you speak to everyone when you enter an establishment..janitors, cashiers, the people in business suits, all that.. You just never know who you're speaking to, who they know, where they can get you, etc..

Anyway, there is one security guard at the Rite, whose behavior baffles me for some reason. He looks to be in his mid to late 40s, he's at least 50lbs overweight, his uniform is always dirty and untucked, and his posture is terrible. Whenever he sees me walking towards or near him, he puts his head down and mumbles a greeting after I say, "What's up man?". The first time he did it, I thought he was just being funny, but this happens each and every time I try speak to him. I've seen him joking and laughing with other employees, customers, etc, but I don't get that same treatment, and it irks the shit out of me.

So now I wonder what the root of his snubs are. Does he think that I think I'm better than he is? Does he feel bad because he knows I've caught him looking at my girl's ass more than once? (which is fine, I look at it too) Does he feel ashamed because he thinks he should be doing better, and seeing me reminds him of that? Does he know I have a blog and obsess over little things, so he's giving me ammo? I don't know what the hell it is, but it really bothers me. Half the time when I go into that Rite-Aid, its late at night, or early in the morning, and I'm dressed like a bum anyway, so there's no reason (that I can see) for him to think I'm better than he is and not speak with his head up. And all this aside, it annoys me that he can't tuck his shirt in and clean his uniform....

I don't think this entry is coming off the way I want it to, but I'm not deleting it.
I'm a man..a black man at that, and I don't like to see any man..particularly a black one, walk around with his head down looking sloppy on his job. But for him to be looking like that, speaking to everyone else, and then snubbing me? That puzzles and annoys me even more.

Perhaps this makes sense to someone if not, move along, there's nothing to see here...

Windmills of Your Mind - Take 6

My latest article

And courtesy of my friend Nichole, here is a interview with Marvin Gaye and his father. And yes its creepy to watch:

Just the other day, I took great pride in poking fun at the fact that I was going to work-related function, where Ashford and Simpson were headlining. I thought they were too old and too irrelevant to have such an honor, and most of the people I told about his agreed with me. But now, having spent nearly 45 minutes watching them perform, I have to take it all back.

Maybe it was the rather strong glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon, maybe it was the terrific crabcakes I ate, or maybe it was the festive atmosphere, but Ashford and Simpson absolutely impressed me. They can sing on key, the know how to work the crowd and their band seemed to be up to the challenge of backing them up. Sure there were creepy sexual references that you really don't want to hear from a couple that's well into their 60s, and sure Nick Ashford had the same Billie Jean jacket that MJ wore in Motown 25(with a black sheer shirt on underneath I might ad)..none of that mattered on this night. By the time they started singing "Solid", I was clapping and mouthing the words as if I had written the song.

The downside of the party? When a company has been around or 10 years, and there's only a handful of people who have even been around 8 years (there's been high turnover), you'd think that there would be some kind of recognition, cash prize, or at least 30 seconds of stage time..but it didn't happen, and I was angry about it. I do my job pretty damn well, and a little recognition never hurt anyone..in fact it does quite the opposite. But again, I shall not complain, at least I have a job right?

Two signs I am getting old

1) I overslept this morning, and missed my doctor's appointment. I was up at 2am, because I couldn't sleep (the lady is away), so I knew that there was a chance I could oversleep. I didn't sleep in the bedroom because the television that was in there is no longer working, so I was attempting to sleep (un)comfortably on the living room couch where the television is. I brought the alarm clock out here in the living room, and I set my cellphone alarm as a backup. But my dumb ass set to both alarms for 6pm, not 6am, and of course I woke up around 8am. How does one set two alarms for the wrong time? Now the doctor's office is going to charge me a fee for not cancelling within 48 hours, and I'll still have to pay a co-pay--all because I am apparently inept.

2)My son turns 13 today. I have a teenage son. This combined with the grey hairs I continue to find on my head(and other places) have me feeling a little long in the tooth this morning...

The company I work for is celebrating their 10th anniversary tomorrow night and to commemorate the occasion, they are having a formal dinner at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in downtown DC. I have been fortunate enough to work for the company for 8 of those 10 years, on various government contracts, and although I probably could complain about various things, I will not. There are too many people out of work, for me to be bitching and moaning about an eight year employer. There have been more good times than bad times....plus all you need to do is click on the link to see how nice that Mandarin Hotel is (although that money could have been better spent on company bonuses).

But there is one little detail about tomorrow's celebration that I cannot let slide, simply because it is so ridiculous. There will be a musical guest at this dinner (which is a bit over the top in and of itself) tomorrow, and if I gave you 200 guesses, I PROMISE you, you'd guess wrong 200 times. The guest? Ashford and Simpson

Now I'm not diminishing the greatness of Ashford and Simpson at all. They are Hall of Fame songwriters who have given us great songs like "You're All I Need To Get By", "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" and "Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing". They also gave us the mega-hit "Solid", which has curiously been overlooked as background music for male-enhancement products. And I bet you didn't know that Nick Ashford spends his spare time playing the role of Jesus..the Black version.

But as talented and accomplished as they are, Ashford and Simpson are 68 and 64 years old respectively, and their last hit was over 25 years ago. Furthermore, most of the employees of my company are under 40, which means no one really gives a good goddamn about seeing this duo perform on a Friday night. They are known for songwriting, not performing for God's sake. I started not to RSVP for this blessed event, until I realized how endless the blogging possibilities would be. It would be a crying shame if I didn't attend, take mental notes, and then come back and write an extensive review of what happened. So that's exactly what I'll do..not because I want to, but because its the right thing to do.

Baby This Love I Have - Minnie Riperton
(I started to end with an Ashford and Simpson song, but I just cannot do it. I don't even have any of their songs on my ipod)

My latest article.

When I was single and dating, I used to apologize to women, even when I knew in my heart of hearts that I was right in the point I was trying to make. In my mind, I did not care about them enough to truly fight my point, because chances were pretty good that they wouldn't be around that much longer. Who has the energy to fight with someone that they don't really and truly care about?

Now I'm in about to married, and I've eschewed that way of thinking. If I believe I am right, I will tell my lady so, and if it means our argument is extended a few hours longer than usual so be it. We know that no matter what, we will come to some kind of understanding before we go to bed, and the door is even open for me to get a bit of the make up trim.

I say all this to say that last night I had a pretty bad argument with my mother, and she was completely in the wrong. I'm trying to help her sell/rent her condo, and I needed to ask her some follow up questions about details, and she blew up at me. I'll spare you the specifics, but at some point, I could no longer take the misguided anger she was dishing out, so I decided to dish out a bit of my own. In hindsight, I should have just gotten off the phone once her decibel levels got to a unbearable levels, but I was in the heat of the moment I suppose. We abruptly got off the telephone without saying goodbye, goodnight or I love you.

As soon as we hung up, I thought about all that my mother is going through right now, and then I thought about how bad I would feel if something happened to her, and we had left off on such a sour note. Then I thought about how nasty I was in response to her nastiness, and I said f**k it, let me take the high road and apologize..and I did. I was still angry, I felt like I had walked into some residual anger she had been carrying all day, but I still was the one who apologized, because it just felt like the right thing to do. As soon as I apologized, she did the same, and then she politely, but quickly, rushed me off the phone, because she was talking to her girlfriend (presumably about me).

I went to bed at peace, and I hope she did too. But now I wonder if we've reached that stage, where arguments are more frequent and sometimes irrational. She's going through it with her mother, my father went through with his mother as she got older, and I may have hit that milestone as well. I believe its called the I-am-getting-older-and-crankier syndrome. You want to love and respect your parents the best you can (and I do), but I swear, the older they get, the more they successfully work your last nerve. I have no real point here, I'm just venting, forgive me. But I would like to extend the middle finger to those people who have no better advice/words of wisdom than to say, "Well at least you parents are still living!" That's a bit self-righteous. I can love and appreciate my livings parent while trying to win arguments..can't I?

So Whatcha Want - Beastie Boys
For some reason, when this song comes on during my morning run, I feel invincible. And it is THE best Beastie Boys song in my opinion. The video is cool too.

I have lots on my mind as of late, and I don't really feel like discussing any of it, which makes it difficult to write a blog as you can imagine. But I can discuss one juicy nugget of good news, and that's my wedding.

Two weeks ago, the lady and I decided to get rid of the traditional wedding ceremony we were planning, and do things a different way. So, we will be going down to Miami on December 11th to get married on the beach in a ceremony that will include just us two and a preacher, and then the next day we will be leaving for a week long honeymoon at an undisclosed island (stalkers are real buddy). We notified our parents last week, and everyone was supportive and happy, except my mother, but she's slowly getting over it. I go back and forth about whether to invite her, but right now I'm in the nah-she'll-get-over-it stage. And while I appreciate the advice from the few people I've told about this, I really don't want anymore. This was not a spontaneous decision. We talked it out, and BAM, this is what we decided. In the brilliant words of my father, "Other people will try to tell you what you should and should not do, but this is you all's day, and whatever you decide, I will support you. You all are grown."

Works for me.

A cool Michael Jackson story

In what has to be some kind of personal record for me, I have written two WNBA stories this week. The first one was about Obama and his appearance at a Mystics game. The second one is an interview I conducted with Chamique Holdsclaw, who used to play in D.C., and now plays in San Antonio. I know most of you don't like the WNBA, and that's fine, but I still think you should read it. You can read it by clicking right here.

The following conversation (or something extremely close to it) happens to me each and every time I bring my laptop in public, and someone sees the back of it (including just now):

Others: What happened to the back of your laptop, I notice it looks damaged and kind of beat up

Me: It was damaged in a fire three years ago, and it has sentimental value for me, so I just haven't bothered to replace or cover up the rough looking part

Others: Oh man I am so sorry about, thank God you made it ok, did you lose everything?

Me: Yes, I lost everything but this laptop, but all is well now

Others: Ok, I'm so sorry again

Me: Next time mind your f**king business, and you won't be in a position where you even have to apologize with your nosy ass (said beautifully and eloquently in my head).

I have today and tomorrow off, which means I will be spending my time writing in random coffee shops and lounges in the this wonderful city of Washington D.C. But first I have a few things to say..

1)I'd like to say thank you to the guy on the bike (not a motorcycle, just a regular bike) who came flying down an alley without looking both ways, and ran right in to me. I saw you coming out of the corner of my eye, but I thought you were going to stop, but you did not. Luckily for me, I protected myself and gave you the Heisman Trophy stiff-arm. I had tire tracks on my leg and minor discomfort, but you fell off your bike and spilled all your precious water. I wanted to feel sorry for you, but I don't so lets call it even. Driving/riding-down-an-alley etiquette calls for you to slow down as you get towards the sidewalk, especially when the alley opens up to a main street (U St for you DC folks).

2) I want to send a special, special shoutout to all you jackasses who littered my facebook, twitter and Gmail inbox yesterday, with messages that went a something like this, "Happy Birthday Obama!" or "Happy 49th Pres" or "Join Me in Celebrating Our President's 49th!"

Really?

REALLY?

Are you working on some sort of commission that puts money in your pocket if you get the word out that it was his birthday? Do you think I live in a cocoon, and I don't read the paper, watch CNN or listen to NPR? And what the hell do you get out of telling the masses like that? Its annoying, and there was no mass party spot where President Obama was going to grab the mic and thank everyone.

3)And lastly..and I really hate to write this, but lastly, I would like to thank my father. We hadn't talked in over 10 days until last night, and 2 minutes into our conversation, I heard you typing on the computer, which explained why you were barely paying attention to me. I asked you three times if you were busy or needed me to call you back, and you said no, and then kept right on shunning me. You came up for air briefly to discuss my WNBA article, then you kept right on snubbing me. If you can't multi-task, then just let me go, rather than making me cut the convo short. I do believe my little feelings were hurt..besides, my lady gets tired of being the only one I pour my heart out to.

That is all for now..

I am fairly certain that this will mean nothing to anyone, except my main man Sabin, but I am sharing it anyway, because it is a big deal to me.

As I have mentioned here and there in this blog, I just learned to swim in March of last year, after 30+ years of being afraid. I went from taking a lesson every Saturday, to going 2-3 times a week, to swimming every day, to swimming every other day (I run on the other days). There are times when I jump in the pool with ease, and I smile to myself, when I think back to the days when I clutched the side of the pool for dear life. I would have all the confidence in the world in every other athletic endeavor, but when I set foot near or in a pool, I'd turn into a scared little boy. These are things I will never forget, no matter how adept at swimming I become.

So this morning, I reached a personal milestone, and its a pretty big f**king deal to me. I swam a mile in 45 minutes, which was nearly 13 minutes better than my previous best of 58 minutes. This will not win me a gold medal or any Wheaties endorsements, but this is a very big deal to me. And I'm hoping that maybe, just maybe, that special lady in my life is reading this right now, and decides to give me a bit of trim tonight as a result of this monumental occasion.

Didjital Vibrations - Jamiroquai

First off, if you haven't already, I would like to politely ask you to read my article on President Obama's appearance at the Mystics game on Sunday. If it is good enough for the Ted Leonsis, owner of the Wizards/Mystics/Capitals to link it in HIS blog, surely its good enough for you to link in yours...and I won't call you Shirley anymore.

Now, this morning as I taking my post-run cool-down-walk towards my apartment, I noticed a woman trying to parallel park right in front of me. She was driving a full sized car, and the space she was attempting to squeeze into was a full sized space exactly. I thought she was old, but when upon closer examination, she looked to be around 30 or so. I could see her getting frustrated that this process was not working in her favor, and when she saw me, she gave me this "go away" look and I started to do just that. But in my neverending quest to become a better person, I did not go away at all. I ignored the fact that I was sweaty, and it may have been a bit creepy to be approaching anyone, let alone a woman alone in a car, at 6 in the morning.

I went to the driver's side of the car, motioned for her to roll down the window, and I told (not asked) her that I would help her fit her car in the space (sounds like a sexual reference). I switched to the passenger side of the car, so I could see how close she was to the curb, I asked her to roll the window down so she could hear my commands, and I got her in the space with room to spare. Normally I would take this time to promote the stereotype that women can't drive, but it really was a difficult spot for her to navigate through. And who among us hasn't needed some assistance getting into a tight spot...pause.

Anyway, she thanked me, I said no problem at all, and she said thank you sooo much, and I again said no problem and told her to have a great day. I did a good deed, and I appreciated her thanking me, but I felt like some early morning small talk was about to be thrown my way, and quite frankly, that would have ruined the moment. Seriously though, it really does feel good to help people when they aren't expecting..and that's one to grow on.

And now, a selection from Branford and Wynton Marsalis:

President Obama, the Washington Mystics and me: The article

If you click on this link , scroll down to the bottom of the page to the video and fast forward to the 1:32 mark, you see me on the bottom left corner for a good five seconds, looking totally cluelesss. It may say that the video isn't available, but wait for it, it'll come up..

I was in attendance yesterday afternoon, when Barack Obama appeared at the WNBA game. I didn't get to meet him or shake his hand, but I was directly on the floor in the media section, and he was across the way in his own floor seats. I'm writing an article on it now, but until that's completed, here is my grainy cellphone picture: