I work with someone who does not know how to use the phrase "no pun intended", but because this person is above me (my boss), I cannot say anything. Usually I just laugh quietly to myself, but today I will go a different route, and write about it here. But first a brief tutorial on how the phrase should be used:
How it should be used: The Energizer Bunny was arrested and charged with assault and battery--no pun intended
How my boss uses it: No pun intended or anything, but the last person who worked in this office was not a good worker.
REALLY?
No one is putting a gun to her head and asking her to use the phrase "no pun intended", so I don't understand why she even bothers to utter it. The phrase she SHOULD be using is, "No offense or anything"..or "I don't mean any harm but..". Occasionally when I interview athletes, I hear them use a phrase or a word that I know good and goddamn well they know nothing about, and I want to correct them too, but I'm no fool. Am I saying that I'm better than anyone? Hell no. Am I saying that I am better at researching the corret ways to say or write certain phrase before I use them? You bet your sweet ass I am. Am I usually the rhetorical question techinique to slam my point home?
Maybe I should stop being a punk and tell my boss (in a non condescending way) how to correctly use the phrase, but I see that going horribly wrong. It is much easier to be passive aggressive (and employed) by doing it this way..
By the way, the uncle I made fun of yesterday for the God texts? He called me back last night to say hello, AND to say he wanted to visit me while he's in DC today. So I owe him an apology...this time.
And finally, I just bought the new Lalah Hathaway, and the jury is still out on whether it is good. But this song with her singing lead and Rachelle Ferrell singing background vocals, is excellent:
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
This is going to come off as mean, but I would like to preemptively say that I am not trying to be that way at all. I'm just annoyed with something..
Every Tuesday, under the guise of something he calls "Touch Tuesday", my uncle texts me a bible verse and/or a story of great God is. My uncle is a devout Christian, he is in Church every Sunday, and he knows that I am neither, so I suspect he wants to keep me near and dear to the cross via text--and I'm ok with that. In fact when I see my uncle, he is carefully not to beat me over the head with Jesus, but he does like to make sure I know of His divine power. Sometimes I listen intently and make mental notes to investigate further, and sometimes I just flat out ignore it, which I think is fair.
But what annoys me is that after my uncle sends me these holy texts, he just checks out and doesn't send anything else to me. I try to hit him with that, "What's going on with you?" or the "Good morning" or even the ""How is your mother (my grandmother)?", but he completely ignores my texts. Then next Tuesday like clockwork, he populates my inbox with more verses, more God, more preaching. Why can't I get a little banter? Why can't I get a side dish of personal touch with my main entree of God..is that too much to ask uncle?
Every Tuesday, under the guise of something he calls "Touch Tuesday", my uncle texts me a bible verse and/or a story of great God is. My uncle is a devout Christian, he is in Church every Sunday, and he knows that I am neither, so I suspect he wants to keep me near and dear to the cross via text--and I'm ok with that. In fact when I see my uncle, he is carefully not to beat me over the head with Jesus, but he does like to make sure I know of His divine power. Sometimes I listen intently and make mental notes to investigate further, and sometimes I just flat out ignore it, which I think is fair.
But what annoys me is that after my uncle sends me these holy texts, he just checks out and doesn't send anything else to me. I try to hit him with that, "What's going on with you?" or the "Good morning" or even the ""How is your mother (my grandmother)?", but he completely ignores my texts. Then next Tuesday like clockwork, he populates my inbox with more verses, more God, more preaching. Why can't I get a little banter? Why can't I get a side dish of personal touch with my main entree of God..is that too much to ask uncle?
Sunday, October 16, 2011
I'm not overly dramatic, but you really can't help to get emotional when you see this picture of Martin Luther King's daughter Bernice, kissing her father's statue during yesterday's ceremony. I can't even imagine the kind of emotion she must be feeling..I'm sure she appreciates his legacy, the effect he had on the world, and the millions of people who will inevitably visit this memorial. But she just misses her daddy..
Thursday, October 13, 2011
1) What the NBA Lockout means for...
2) If you are a fan of jazz (and if you are on this blog I hope you are by now) please buy this new cd/album/download by Terence Blanchard and Poncho Sanchez called Chano y Dizzy. It is a tribute to two pioneers in Latin Jazz (Chano Pozo and Dizzy Gillespie) and it is damn good. It'll make you want to dance with someone, dance by yourself, or do dirty things that I dare not discuss in this here family blog.
You'll thank me later. And now here is a tease...
2) If you are a fan of jazz (and if you are on this blog I hope you are by now) please buy this new cd/album/download by Terence Blanchard and Poncho Sanchez called Chano y Dizzy. It is a tribute to two pioneers in Latin Jazz (Chano Pozo and Dizzy Gillespie) and it is damn good. It'll make you want to dance with someone, dance by yourself, or do dirty things that I dare not discuss in this here family blog.
You'll thank me later. And now here is a tease...
So any remote shot I had at naming my child Melvin completely went out the window last night, when my wife shut it down with swift and authoritative force. Ok honestly, I knew Melvin wasn't going to make the cut as a first name, but I was hopeful that I could sneak it through the back door as a middle name. My plan was to give my wife first dibs on the first name, which by (unwritten) law would give me carte blanche (within reason of course) to choose the middle name of my child.
Now, I did have a backup first name that I wanted, and my wife liked it, and I thought we were going to go with that, until last night. That's when she started dropping subtle hints that she wanted to use her first choice as the first name, and I said no problem, but Melvin has to be the middle name. My friends, not only did she shoot it down, but she shot it down hard, she told me she didn't like Melvin, and that I didn't have a shot in hell at getting that name anywhere on the birth certificate. I tried to explain that it was only fair that if she wanted the first name, I should get the middle name, because that's what good compromises (and marriages I might add) are made of, but she did NOT fall for that b.s.
In fact, I am convinced that she was so hell bent on making sure I didn't try to further convince her that Melvin as a middle name was the way to go, that she decided to go with my second choice as a first name just to spite me(not really, but that's what I'm telling myself).
**As an aside, I must say that I have two reasons for wanting Melvin to be the first or middle name. First off, my father is a huge Temptations fan, and he used to play their records to death when I was younger. Despite the distinctive voices of David Ruffin and Eddie Kendricks, it was the deep voice of Melvin Franklin that intrigued me, because my dad always seemed to be singing his parts. So that name had an early entry into my brain. Secondly, when I was in high school, there was this older dude who I looked up to, because he was a popular all-world athlete who I wanted to be like, because I was neither. We also ended up going to college together, and I always looked up to him to a certain degree. His name was also Melvin. That name was shot down when my son was born in 1997, so I was hoping the second time would be a charm. Not so much.**
So I say all of that to say, we finally have the full name of our unborn child. Oh and sorry for being so damn vague about the names and all, but I do have my reasons. My mother told me that we should not tell folks what the name will be, but it is African tradition to whisper the baby's name in his ear first, then tell everyone else second. That's what my parents did with me, and I turned out to be a halfway decent human being, so why not carry on the tradition? Then again, if I was granted permission to name my son Melvin, I would absolutely kick that tradition to the curb.
I would also like to mention how creepy it is to be sitting next to my wife looking at her stomach, only to see my son kicking, moving and doing whatever the hell he's doing in there. It doesn't bother me to touch her stomach and feel him, but to see her stomach moving like her name is Sigourney Weaver is a bit of adjustment, but its beautiful too.
84 days and counting..
Now, I did have a backup first name that I wanted, and my wife liked it, and I thought we were going to go with that, until last night. That's when she started dropping subtle hints that she wanted to use her first choice as the first name, and I said no problem, but Melvin has to be the middle name. My friends, not only did she shoot it down, but she shot it down hard, she told me she didn't like Melvin, and that I didn't have a shot in hell at getting that name anywhere on the birth certificate. I tried to explain that it was only fair that if she wanted the first name, I should get the middle name, because that's what good compromises (and marriages I might add) are made of, but she did NOT fall for that b.s.
In fact, I am convinced that she was so hell bent on making sure I didn't try to further convince her that Melvin as a middle name was the way to go, that she decided to go with my second choice as a first name just to spite me(not really, but that's what I'm telling myself).
**As an aside, I must say that I have two reasons for wanting Melvin to be the first or middle name. First off, my father is a huge Temptations fan, and he used to play their records to death when I was younger. Despite the distinctive voices of David Ruffin and Eddie Kendricks, it was the deep voice of Melvin Franklin that intrigued me, because my dad always seemed to be singing his parts. So that name had an early entry into my brain. Secondly, when I was in high school, there was this older dude who I looked up to, because he was a popular all-world athlete who I wanted to be like, because I was neither. We also ended up going to college together, and I always looked up to him to a certain degree. His name was also Melvin. That name was shot down when my son was born in 1997, so I was hoping the second time would be a charm. Not so much.**
So I say all of that to say, we finally have the full name of our unborn child. Oh and sorry for being so damn vague about the names and all, but I do have my reasons. My mother told me that we should not tell folks what the name will be, but it is African tradition to whisper the baby's name in his ear first, then tell everyone else second. That's what my parents did with me, and I turned out to be a halfway decent human being, so why not carry on the tradition? Then again, if I was granted permission to name my son Melvin, I would absolutely kick that tradition to the curb.
I would also like to mention how creepy it is to be sitting next to my wife looking at her stomach, only to see my son kicking, moving and doing whatever the hell he's doing in there. It doesn't bother me to touch her stomach and feel him, but to see her stomach moving like her name is Sigourney Weaver is a bit of adjustment, but its beautiful too.
84 days and counting..
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
I know I'm not writing as much on this blog, but hey, this things come in spurts (pause). But one thing I am still doing, is listening to music...
Nas - "Nasty" Music Video (NasirJones.com) from Nasir Jones on Vimeo.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Thursday, October 06, 2011
Whether you are a sports fan or not, please take some time read this article by former NY Times writer, and current ESPN/Grantland writer, Jonathan Abrams. It is a great piece of journalism, and it makes me realize that I still have a long way to go.
Secondly, I'd like to give a special shout out to my son's mother, who decided to wait until my son is 14 years old (and my wife is nearly seven months pregnant) to give serious consideration to having my son live with me full time. Great timing. You see my son has started off with poor grades (again) and his mother kicked him off the JV basketball team he JUST made, yelled at him, and then decided that she can no longer steer him in the right direction--something I noticed about 5-6 years ago I might add. I'm not saying I'm SuperDad with all the answers, but I had good parents and they slid me the how-to-be-a-good-parent manual. I'll stop there.
Thirdly, I wonder what its like to walk down the street, and see people of all ages, races, sexes and nationalities, using the devices that you were instrumental in creating. Is it overwhelming? Does your ego shoot through the roof? Do you get paranoid and start thinking of the next invention? I don't know what that's like, but he did.
And now the next installment in the "Listen to Michael Jackson Sing Background Vocals" week:
Secondly, I'd like to give a special shout out to my son's mother, who decided to wait until my son is 14 years old (and my wife is nearly seven months pregnant) to give serious consideration to having my son live with me full time. Great timing. You see my son has started off with poor grades (again) and his mother kicked him off the JV basketball team he JUST made, yelled at him, and then decided that she can no longer steer him in the right direction--something I noticed about 5-6 years ago I might add. I'm not saying I'm SuperDad with all the answers, but I had good parents and they slid me the how-to-be-a-good-parent manual. I'll stop there.
Thirdly, I wonder what its like to walk down the street, and see people of all ages, races, sexes and nationalities, using the devices that you were instrumental in creating. Is it overwhelming? Does your ego shoot through the roof? Do you get paranoid and start thinking of the next invention? I don't know what that's like, but he did.
And now the next installment in the "Listen to Michael Jackson Sing Background Vocals" week:
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
I contributed to this article
And I interviewed Michael Lee of the Washington Post for this one
and lately i've been obsessed with finding songs that Michael Jackson sang background on, so here's another one from 1981 that he did with Kenny Loggins:
And I interviewed Michael Lee of the Washington Post for this one
and lately i've been obsessed with finding songs that Michael Jackson sang background on, so here's another one from 1981 that he did with Kenny Loggins:
Monday, October 03, 2011
So at the absolute last minute, I received a job offer, which means I can continue to work, get paid, support my family and my gambling habit, so I am a happy man. A couple friends of mine who I work with, were not as fortunate, and lost their jobs, so I was not happy about that at all. I have vowed to help them find work, and I do believe it is wise for me to considering leaving eventually as well. For now, I am happy.
In other news, my son has made the JV basketball team, and I absolutely ecstatic. Earlier this year he tried out for the 8th grade team, and when he got cut he was absolutely devastated. I told him that Michael Jordan got cut as well, and that he worked hard to make the team and prove folks wrong. My son worked out hard all summer, ran, played pickup ball, became a vegan (a strict vegan at that), and he got serious. Last week he tried out for the team, and he made it, and I am proud. I'm saddened that I live here in DC, while he lives in Hampton, VA, which means I'll miss most of the games. My dad never missed ANY of my JV or varsity games so this sucks.. But I'll find a way to make some..
That's all I have for now
In other news, my son has made the JV basketball team, and I absolutely ecstatic. Earlier this year he tried out for the 8th grade team, and when he got cut he was absolutely devastated. I told him that Michael Jordan got cut as well, and that he worked hard to make the team and prove folks wrong. My son worked out hard all summer, ran, played pickup ball, became a vegan (a strict vegan at that), and he got serious. Last week he tried out for the team, and he made it, and I am proud. I'm saddened that I live here in DC, while he lives in Hampton, VA, which means I'll miss most of the games. My dad never missed ANY of my JV or varsity games so this sucks.. But I'll find a way to make some..
That's all I have for now
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Disclaimer: I usually don't do things like this, but considering i have a lot on my mind, and I've struggled with blogging on a consistent basis, I figured now was the time to do something like this. And if you get mad, thank my blogger friend, the notorious k.i.m. for planting the idea in my head.
Wait one more thing..my unborn son received his first gift via mail yesterday. One of my wife's college friends sent us a giant stuffed dog. Our child will be scared of the damn dog or at least two years--that's assuming of course that I don't accidentally maim, destroy and try to do X-rated things to that stuffed animal in the process. What the hell kind of gift is that for an infant anyway? If I wanted my infant child to have a giant gift like that, I'd introduce him to my wife's body pillow.
Anyway..on with the corny portion of the blog:
The A-Z's of Me (Rashad)
A. Age: 36.
B. Bed size: - Queen (although this body pillow is really making the case for a King)
C. Chore that you hate: Cleaning the bathroom. If I take the time to dirty it up, someone should be nice enough to clean it up for me.
D. Dogs: I don't have one, but when that changes, I'll have a black lab retriever
E. Essential start to your day: ESPN and a Venti Soy Green Tea Latte Unsweetened
F. Favorite color: Philadelphia Eagles green
G. Gold or Silver: This is the first dumbass question of the group, and I'm not answering this
H. Height: 5'9" or one inch taller than my brother says he is. Either answer will do.
I. Instruments you play: trumpet. I played from 1984-1991, and then I retired because I made the basketball team as a high school junior and I wanted to be "cool", and I thought the trumpet was holding me back. I was wrong.
J. Job title: Trainer/Analyst/Sportswriter/importer-exporter
K. Kids: A 14 year old son and a baby boy scheduled to arrive on 1/5/12
L. Live: Washington DC
M. Mother’s name: Marilyn
N. Nicknames: One of my boys from high school used to call me Shad Shotty (yes he was straight). My high school basketball coach used to call me "Flash" because I was so quick. Both of these names suck big time ass I know
O. Overnight hospital stays: Only when my wife had surgery
P. Pet peeves: People who feel the need to talk to me in the elevator, people who say "swag" and "whatever" all the time, and jackasses who text and walk into me.
Q. Quote from a movie: From the Departed: Marriage is an important part of getting ahead: lets people know you're not a homo; married guy seems more stable; people see the ring, they think at least somebody can stand the son of a bitch; ladies see the ring, they know immediately you must have some cash or your cock must work.
R. Right or left handed: Left
S. Siblings: My brother Jamal who is three years younger than I am. This is a great time to add that he tried blogging for three months, and then he gave up..
T: Time you wake up: 5:26am
U. Underwear: Boxer briefs Monday-Thursday, Commando Fri-Sun (except if I go to church, then I'm back to briefs..but I've been to church twice in 4 years)
V. Vegetable you hate: Cauliflower. They look like pieces of broccoli who didn't make the cut, and they taste plain no matter how much you season them
W. What makes you run late: trying to get a quickie or a jerk before work
X. X-Rays you’ve had: My back
Y. Yummy food that you make: Salmon and asparagus and pancakes--yes pancakes.
Z. Zoo animal: I'm a big fan animals like birds and squirrels who really don't have to be in the zoo, because they can roll out at any time, but they choose to be among their captured friends. That's character baby.
I promise to never do this again.
Wait one more thing..my unborn son received his first gift via mail yesterday. One of my wife's college friends sent us a giant stuffed dog. Our child will be scared of the damn dog or at least two years--that's assuming of course that I don't accidentally maim, destroy and try to do X-rated things to that stuffed animal in the process. What the hell kind of gift is that for an infant anyway? If I wanted my infant child to have a giant gift like that, I'd introduce him to my wife's body pillow.
Anyway..on with the corny portion of the blog:
The A-Z's of Me (Rashad)
A. Age: 36.
B. Bed size: - Queen (although this body pillow is really making the case for a King)
C. Chore that you hate: Cleaning the bathroom. If I take the time to dirty it up, someone should be nice enough to clean it up for me.
D. Dogs: I don't have one, but when that changes, I'll have a black lab retriever
E. Essential start to your day: ESPN and a Venti Soy Green Tea Latte Unsweetened
F. Favorite color: Philadelphia Eagles green
G. Gold or Silver: This is the first dumbass question of the group, and I'm not answering this
H. Height: 5'9" or one inch taller than my brother says he is. Either answer will do.
I. Instruments you play: trumpet. I played from 1984-1991, and then I retired because I made the basketball team as a high school junior and I wanted to be "cool", and I thought the trumpet was holding me back. I was wrong.
J. Job title: Trainer/Analyst/Sportswriter/importer-exporter
K. Kids: A 14 year old son and a baby boy scheduled to arrive on 1/5/12
L. Live: Washington DC
M. Mother’s name: Marilyn
N. Nicknames: One of my boys from high school used to call me Shad Shotty (yes he was straight). My high school basketball coach used to call me "Flash" because I was so quick. Both of these names suck big time ass I know
O. Overnight hospital stays: Only when my wife had surgery
P. Pet peeves: People who feel the need to talk to me in the elevator, people who say "swag" and "whatever" all the time, and jackasses who text and walk into me.
Q. Quote from a movie: From the Departed: Marriage is an important part of getting ahead: lets people know you're not a homo; married guy seems more stable; people see the ring, they think at least somebody can stand the son of a bitch; ladies see the ring, they know immediately you must have some cash or your cock must work.
R. Right or left handed: Left
S. Siblings: My brother Jamal who is three years younger than I am. This is a great time to add that he tried blogging for three months, and then he gave up..
T: Time you wake up: 5:26am
U. Underwear: Boxer briefs Monday-Thursday, Commando Fri-Sun (except if I go to church, then I'm back to briefs..but I've been to church twice in 4 years)
V. Vegetable you hate: Cauliflower. They look like pieces of broccoli who didn't make the cut, and they taste plain no matter how much you season them
W. What makes you run late: trying to get a quickie or a jerk before work
X. X-Rays you’ve had: My back
Y. Yummy food that you make: Salmon and asparagus and pancakes--yes pancakes.
Z. Zoo animal: I'm a big fan animals like birds and squirrels who really don't have to be in the zoo, because they can roll out at any time, but they choose to be among their captured friends. That's character baby.
I promise to never do this again.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
This past Saturday, my wife and I decided to sit down and watch Michael Jackson's This Is It with my mother who had never seen it before. I take time to watch this movie at least once a month, and I've seen it over 20 times already, so I certainly had no qualms about yet another viewing for my precious mother. In fact, I get a big kick out of watching it with someone who has never seen it, so I can a) see their reaction b)watch their amazement over how spry MJ looked and c)watch them fall in love with his music all over again.
About 20 minutes into the movie, my mother looks at me and says, "This man was a phenomenon. He was relevant in five decades, and we will never see anyone like him", and I agreed with her 100%. Another hour passed, and eventually my mother had to go, and I turned the movie off, and I found myself amazed at MJ even after the 21st viewing of the movie. Aside from all the other disappointment I felt when he died, I was most disappointed that I missed out on seeing him in concert a second time. I saw him when he came to Maryland back in '88, and I would have liked to see him as a adult--but he had to die on me..how dare he?
So basically what I've been trying to say for two paragraphs and change, is that MJ--even after being dead for 2 years--still has superhero status to me. I know he had flaws and imperfections like the rest of us (present company excluded of course), but he made and produced great music, and I was on his jock as a result. So imagine my shock and surprise when I walked in the door today, and the news shows his dead body as part of their MJ trial coverage. I was disgusted and creeped out at seeing a lifeless, pale MJ on a hospital bed. Why show that to anyone except for the people in the courtroom? Why have a televised trial at all? Why couldn't they have a closed-to-the-public trial, so that our only images from the trial could be those inaccurate creepy courtroom sketches that we've all come to know and love? And why must I now attempt to get some sleep with images of dead MJ floating around my head?
It ain't right.
Anyway, I just found out that MJ sang background on the Doobie Brothers song, "What A Fool Believes"..listen closely
About 20 minutes into the movie, my mother looks at me and says, "This man was a phenomenon. He was relevant in five decades, and we will never see anyone like him", and I agreed with her 100%. Another hour passed, and eventually my mother had to go, and I turned the movie off, and I found myself amazed at MJ even after the 21st viewing of the movie. Aside from all the other disappointment I felt when he died, I was most disappointed that I missed out on seeing him in concert a second time. I saw him when he came to Maryland back in '88, and I would have liked to see him as a adult--but he had to die on me..how dare he?
So basically what I've been trying to say for two paragraphs and change, is that MJ--even after being dead for 2 years--still has superhero status to me. I know he had flaws and imperfections like the rest of us (present company excluded of course), but he made and produced great music, and I was on his jock as a result. So imagine my shock and surprise when I walked in the door today, and the news shows his dead body as part of their MJ trial coverage. I was disgusted and creeped out at seeing a lifeless, pale MJ on a hospital bed. Why show that to anyone except for the people in the courtroom? Why have a televised trial at all? Why couldn't they have a closed-to-the-public trial, so that our only images from the trial could be those inaccurate creepy courtroom sketches that we've all come to know and love? And why must I now attempt to get some sleep with images of dead MJ floating around my head?
It ain't right.
Anyway, I just found out that MJ sang background on the Doobie Brothers song, "What A Fool Believes"..listen closely
Saturday, September 24, 2011
I went to the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial this morning with my wife, my mother and one of her friends who was attending the Congressional Black Caucus conference with her. My wife and I got there first and two minutes later my mother and her friend joined us. Two minutes after that, after my mother's friend (I think her name was Tasha) and I introduced ourselves to one another, we had the following banter:
Her: You should all stand in front of the memorial and take a picture
Me: No I'm good
Her: Why not?
Me: I just think its kind of corny to take a picture in front of the memorial, I just want to be in the moment
Her: Really? You don't want a family picture? Wow..ok.. (and then she rolled her eyes and walked off
Now, because this woman works with my mother, I did not curse her the f**k out and get indignant with her, but I was awfully close. I then told my mother that I probably was not verbalizing my feelings about not wanting the pictures properly, but I meant what I said.
There were all kinds of people posing around the MLK statue. Some were throwing up their sorority signs, some were standing by some of the quotes that were etched in walls, and it just looked juvenile and corny--but perhaps I am being too hard on folks. I think the MLK memorial should be about reflecting, thinking, teaching, crying (like my mother did) or just flat out being awe-inspired about this man's life. It is called being in the moment, and I just don't think the photographers and the posers were doing that and it annoyed me..and so did my mother's friend who rolled her eyes.
After she walked away, my mother, my wife and I walked around to each one of MLK's quotes and soaked up the moment. My mother reflected a bit and starting crying initially, then she talked to us about the greatness of MLK, the sadness she felt that he didn't get to finish his work, and the amazement she felt that he accomplished so much before he was killed at 39. I won't capture the full moment here, but it was awesome. And not one picture was needed. I highly recommend you attend
Now what I DID take a picture of was the copy of the May 1986 Sports Illustrated I bought on the way home. My second favorite player ever was on the cover (James Worthy, Kareem was my all time fave), and I remember putting this up on my wall. Good times.
Her: You should all stand in front of the memorial and take a picture
Me: No I'm good
Her: Why not?
Me: I just think its kind of corny to take a picture in front of the memorial, I just want to be in the moment
Her: Really? You don't want a family picture? Wow..ok.. (and then she rolled her eyes and walked off
Now, because this woman works with my mother, I did not curse her the f**k out and get indignant with her, but I was awfully close. I then told my mother that I probably was not verbalizing my feelings about not wanting the pictures properly, but I meant what I said.
There were all kinds of people posing around the MLK statue. Some were throwing up their sorority signs, some were standing by some of the quotes that were etched in walls, and it just looked juvenile and corny--but perhaps I am being too hard on folks. I think the MLK memorial should be about reflecting, thinking, teaching, crying (like my mother did) or just flat out being awe-inspired about this man's life. It is called being in the moment, and I just don't think the photographers and the posers were doing that and it annoyed me..and so did my mother's friend who rolled her eyes.
After she walked away, my mother, my wife and I walked around to each one of MLK's quotes and soaked up the moment. My mother reflected a bit and starting crying initially, then she talked to us about the greatness of MLK, the sadness she felt that he didn't get to finish his work, and the amazement she felt that he accomplished so much before he was killed at 39. I won't capture the full moment here, but it was awesome. And not one picture was needed. I highly recommend you attend
Now what I DID take a picture of was the copy of the May 1986 Sports Illustrated I bought on the way home. My second favorite player ever was on the cover (James Worthy, Kareem was my all time fave), and I remember putting this up on my wall. Good times.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
I usually try to keep my personal complaints to a minimum, but right about now I am extremely stressed. I'm a government contractor, my contract expires on 9/30/11, and I have yet to receive the job offer that will allow me to keep working on October 1st. I have two basketball-related articles I should be writing, but my work days are so damn busy and arduous, that by the time I get home, I feel like drinking wine, feeling the baby move in my wife's stomach, and then getting in the bed for my customary 4 hours of sleep. Shall I go on?
My mother is staying with me this week, and she can't parallel park worth a goddamn, I'm stressed about money as it relates to the baby, and my wife sleeps with a body pillow. Let me repeat, my wife sleeps with a damn body pillow because it helps pregnant women sleep. Every time I roll over, the body pillow is there, and its the equivalent of being in the bed with a midget. Part of me feels like a threesome could jump off at any moment, and part of me wants to kick that pillow out of the window--especially since I have accidentally dry humped it on a few occasions.
I haven't even mentioned that Michael Vick got hurt and the Eagles lost last week. That's all for now..And now, so that I don't end on a low note, I will link to the smooth sounds of Kurt Elling..
My mother is staying with me this week, and she can't parallel park worth a goddamn, I'm stressed about money as it relates to the baby, and my wife sleeps with a body pillow. Let me repeat, my wife sleeps with a damn body pillow because it helps pregnant women sleep. Every time I roll over, the body pillow is there, and its the equivalent of being in the bed with a midget. Part of me feels like a threesome could jump off at any moment, and part of me wants to kick that pillow out of the window--especially since I have accidentally dry humped it on a few occasions.
I haven't even mentioned that Michael Vick got hurt and the Eagles lost last week. That's all for now..And now, so that I don't end on a low note, I will link to the smooth sounds of Kurt Elling..
Thursday, September 15, 2011
First off, let me shout out my landlord who typed the sentence, "I conquer with Rashad", instead of saying "I concur". And secondly let me send a hello the the man who used the word "affidavis", instead of saying "affidavit". I need those laughs to get me through some days.
Anyway, I had to do a presentation for my job yesterday, which required me to speak in front of about 50 people, and in the few days leading up to it I was absolutely terrified. Just a few years ago, I had a job with HUD that required me speak in front of 200-500 people at least twice a month, and although I would be nervous as hell every time, I started to accomplish these tasks with relative ease. I used to both teach and substitute teach, and that required me to get in front of kids, and I never got nervous for them because a)they are f**king kids and b)they were depending on me in a way adults never really do. I felt like there was no room to be nervous, because I had to deliver in a major way.
I actually had to deliver in a major way during yesterday's presentation as well, but the nerves were strong. I had to speak in front of colleagues, paralegals, attorneys, bosses and their bosses. I woke up at 3am before my speech, and I practiced countless times, and I would get nervous, I'd start shaking, and I'd get the foam (an old Cosby show joke). Every time I practiced, I would present my information in a different way, or I would leave a bullet point off of the notes I'd prepared for my PowerPoint presentation, or I would just flat out skip over something thinking that I'd get it right when the time counted. I know people say that you only get nervous when you're not prepared, but that's bullshit. You get nervous when you are taken out of your comfort zone for whatever reason, and I was going to be violently ripped from mine once that speech was to begin.
Well the speech began and I was nervous, sweating like a black man at a white woman's funeral, and I wasn't speaking as loudly as I would have liked (luckily I had prepared for this occasion, and I asked the guy who was in charge of the training room to mic me up just in case. When someone said they couldn't hear me, I mic'd myself up, and I was ready to roll baby). After awhile my ego kicked in, and I realized that I was in front of these people for a reason, and there was a job to be done. I did my little 10-15 minutes worth of a presentation, I fielded questions, I cracked jokes, I spotted dimes and I ate onions.
So I say all that to say, now that I'm done with that, I can get back to writing now, without that damn presentation hanging over my head like that black cloud that followed Nas.
Anyway, I had to do a presentation for my job yesterday, which required me to speak in front of about 50 people, and in the few days leading up to it I was absolutely terrified. Just a few years ago, I had a job with HUD that required me speak in front of 200-500 people at least twice a month, and although I would be nervous as hell every time, I started to accomplish these tasks with relative ease. I used to both teach and substitute teach, and that required me to get in front of kids, and I never got nervous for them because a)they are f**king kids and b)they were depending on me in a way adults never really do. I felt like there was no room to be nervous, because I had to deliver in a major way.
I actually had to deliver in a major way during yesterday's presentation as well, but the nerves were strong. I had to speak in front of colleagues, paralegals, attorneys, bosses and their bosses. I woke up at 3am before my speech, and I practiced countless times, and I would get nervous, I'd start shaking, and I'd get the foam (an old Cosby show joke). Every time I practiced, I would present my information in a different way, or I would leave a bullet point off of the notes I'd prepared for my PowerPoint presentation, or I would just flat out skip over something thinking that I'd get it right when the time counted. I know people say that you only get nervous when you're not prepared, but that's bullshit. You get nervous when you are taken out of your comfort zone for whatever reason, and I was going to be violently ripped from mine once that speech was to begin.
Well the speech began and I was nervous, sweating like a black man at a white woman's funeral, and I wasn't speaking as loudly as I would have liked (luckily I had prepared for this occasion, and I asked the guy who was in charge of the training room to mic me up just in case. When someone said they couldn't hear me, I mic'd myself up, and I was ready to roll baby). After awhile my ego kicked in, and I realized that I was in front of these people for a reason, and there was a job to be done. I did my little 10-15 minutes worth of a presentation, I fielded questions, I cracked jokes, I spotted dimes and I ate onions.
So I say all that to say, now that I'm done with that, I can get back to writing now, without that damn presentation hanging over my head like that black cloud that followed Nas.
Friday, September 09, 2011
I'd ask that you read the ESPN article I had the pleasure of being a part of yesterday. For the longest time, I was doing this type of basketball writing for free, but now thanks to the good folks at ESPN, I get paid per article. I would like to thank all of the generous people who helped make this possible like my main man, and current editor Kyle, and my former editor Ryan who got me started four years ago. It has been quite a journey, and it is not over yet--hopefully it is just beginning (sorry for the corny cliche').
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Tuesday, September 06, 2011
I got hit in the ribs this morning with an umbrella by an old lady (I'd say she was about 55-60). I was getting ready to cross the street, and she was coming down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, but she could not cross the street because she had "Do Not Walk" sign. Had she been looking up and not texting, she would have seen me coming, but that was not the case. I slowed down my gait a bit so I could walk behind her, but then she abruptly stopped so she could answer her phone, and I ran right into her. I said I was sorry, but she instantly assumed I was trying to touch her inappropriately:
Me: I'm sorry ma'am, I wasn't expecting you to stop so suddenly
Her: Were you trying to touch my ass?
Me: Why would I do that, I'm trying to get to work?
Her: I'm a lady have some respect (pulls out her umbrella)
Me: Ma'am you were on your phone and you weren't paying attention
Her: So that gives you the right to brush up against me? (she hit me once with her umbrella..and it wasn't a little umbrella either)
Me (trying not to laugh): Ma'am please don't hit me, I said I was sorry, now I'm leaving
Her: You better walk away (she took one more swing, but I caught the umbrella in my hand).
I can think of two or three women 55 or older, who I would openly grope, but this woman was not on that list. And as funny as the situation was, I could have been in quite the situation had law enforcement been around. So thanks old lady!
My son starts high school today, and I'm so damn proud of him. He was here this weekend and we had all the talks (sex, academic, how to carry yourself, women), so I think he's ready..but we'll see.
Me: I'm sorry ma'am, I wasn't expecting you to stop so suddenly
Her: Were you trying to touch my ass?
Me: Why would I do that, I'm trying to get to work?
Her: I'm a lady have some respect (pulls out her umbrella)
Me: Ma'am you were on your phone and you weren't paying attention
Her: So that gives you the right to brush up against me? (she hit me once with her umbrella..and it wasn't a little umbrella either)
Me (trying not to laugh): Ma'am please don't hit me, I said I was sorry, now I'm leaving
Her: You better walk away (she took one more swing, but I caught the umbrella in my hand).
I can think of two or three women 55 or older, who I would openly grope, but this woman was not on that list. And as funny as the situation was, I could have been in quite the situation had law enforcement been around. So thanks old lady!
My son starts high school today, and I'm so damn proud of him. He was here this weekend and we had all the talks (sex, academic, how to carry yourself, women), so I think he's ready..but we'll see.
Thursday, September 01, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
When his wife was expecting five years ago, my brother would show me the ultrasound pictures of his son and tell me how excited he was to be on the verge of parenthood. I would tell him that while ultrasounds are nice, nobody really cares about seeing the outline of a baby that was living inside of his wife's body. Not only that, the image looked more like Emmitt Till, than it did a growing boy. The joke was highly inappropriate, the sentiment was kind of mean, but it was true. I've had lots of people show me their ultrasound pictures of their children-to-be, and it really is underwhelming. I don't even remember the ultrasound pictures of my son Carlton from 1997.
But last Friday, due to work obligations, I missed my first doctor's appointment with my wife, and I was pretty upset about it. I swore up and down that I would attend each and every appointment she had, but I fell a bit short. I waited and waited for her to call me, and when she finally did, she explained that young Melvin was healthy and on schedule and so was she. A couple of hours later she sent me the ultrasound picture, and I just broke out into a full smile. You'd have thought the kid was sitting in my lap or something, because I just stared at that picture incredulously.
Five minutes later do you know what I did? I sent the picture to my mother, my father and my brother, and thankfully they were way more gracious than I had ever been. They all commented on how excited they were, which just got me more excited (pause). So here he is at 21 weeks (he's 22 weeks old right now though).
But last Friday, due to work obligations, I missed my first doctor's appointment with my wife, and I was pretty upset about it. I swore up and down that I would attend each and every appointment she had, but I fell a bit short. I waited and waited for her to call me, and when she finally did, she explained that young Melvin was healthy and on schedule and so was she. A couple of hours later she sent me the ultrasound picture, and I just broke out into a full smile. You'd have thought the kid was sitting in my lap or something, because I just stared at that picture incredulously.
Five minutes later do you know what I did? I sent the picture to my mother, my father and my brother, and thankfully they were way more gracious than I had ever been. They all commented on how excited they were, which just got me more excited (pause). So here he is at 21 weeks (he's 22 weeks old right now though).
Monday, August 29, 2011
I would like to send a congratulations out to my main man jazzbrew. who has been reading and commenting on my blog for a few years now. He and his lady had a baby boy this morning, and I couldn't be happier for him. I know I'm turning into an emotional writer here, but kids and parenthood will do that to you.
Friday, August 26, 2011
I know this is going to sound super sappy, but I cannot wait to be a father again.
You see I had my son Carlton when I was 22 years old, and not only was I clueless and fresh out of college, but his mother and I did not get along. She lived in Hampton, I lived in Maryland, and I missed lots of milestones in Carlton's life (first day of school, first step, first missed tooth, potty training,etc) It wasn't like I was an absentee father, because I saw him two and three times a month, it just was not the same as being there each and every day. Now he's turned into a fine young man (as fine as a 14 year old sneaky bastard can be), and I love him, but there are parts of his life that I missed, and sometimes it hurts. Not a debilitating hurt that will send me in a tailspin..but the kind of hurt that comes and goes (mainly comes) when Carlton's name comes up in conversation.
14 years later I'm married, a little smarter, a little wealthier, less mature, and I am ready to get the full Daddy experience. I've had friends and family attempt to scare me away with baby horror stories, but they don't understand how much I want that. Every parent goes through ups and downs, but (most of the time) there is some type of rewarding experience on the wrap around. I want the good, the bad, the ugly and the payoff.
Where did all this come from? On my way into work this morning I saw a father and his young infant going for a morning walk. The kid was in one of those pouches that fit right in front of the parent, and he was just smiling and gazing into his father's eyes--and the father was looking right back at him with an identical look. I'm not a REAL emotional guy, but I definitely got a little filled..Needless to say, I'm pretty f**king excited about the birth of young Melvin.
You see I had my son Carlton when I was 22 years old, and not only was I clueless and fresh out of college, but his mother and I did not get along. She lived in Hampton, I lived in Maryland, and I missed lots of milestones in Carlton's life (first day of school, first step, first missed tooth, potty training,etc) It wasn't like I was an absentee father, because I saw him two and three times a month, it just was not the same as being there each and every day. Now he's turned into a fine young man (as fine as a 14 year old sneaky bastard can be), and I love him, but there are parts of his life that I missed, and sometimes it hurts. Not a debilitating hurt that will send me in a tailspin..but the kind of hurt that comes and goes (mainly comes) when Carlton's name comes up in conversation.
14 years later I'm married, a little smarter, a little wealthier, less mature, and I am ready to get the full Daddy experience. I've had friends and family attempt to scare me away with baby horror stories, but they don't understand how much I want that. Every parent goes through ups and downs, but (most of the time) there is some type of rewarding experience on the wrap around. I want the good, the bad, the ugly and the payoff.
Where did all this come from? On my way into work this morning I saw a father and his young infant going for a morning walk. The kid was in one of those pouches that fit right in front of the parent, and he was just smiling and gazing into his father's eyes--and the father was looking right back at him with an identical look. I'm not a REAL emotional guy, but I definitely got a little filled..Needless to say, I'm pretty f**king excited about the birth of young Melvin.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Before a wedding, there are usually two separate parties: one for the bachelor and one for the bachelorette. There is drinking, there may be dancers, there could be a sporting event involved, and maybe even some gifts shared, but both the bride and groom get a chance to do their thing and feel special. The wife and I chose not to have to have those types of parties, but the option was briefly on the table. We have no regrets.
Before a baby is born, this type of congruency simply does not exist and it is troubling to me. Granted, I understand that the mother of the child deserves most of the attention and the bigger party. She needs love, attention, affirmation and most importantly gifts for the baby--especially when the sex of the baby has been determined as it has in our case. Still, I think the man should have some type of baby-related party as well. I'm having a boy, so my boys and the men in my family should throw me something. I should get a dazzling array of cigars, some clothes and diapers with Philadelphia Eagles or Washington Wizards on them, maybe some fancy hats, bedsheets, bottles etc. I know this seems weird or maybe even a bit unconventional, but I think it should happen.
Plus when young Melvin is finally born in January, there will be twice as many helpful gifts for the wife and I--ultimately, isn't that what really matters? I think so. Surely somewhere out there, some man has picked up and ran with this concept...
Before a baby is born, this type of congruency simply does not exist and it is troubling to me. Granted, I understand that the mother of the child deserves most of the attention and the bigger party. She needs love, attention, affirmation and most importantly gifts for the baby--especially when the sex of the baby has been determined as it has in our case. Still, I think the man should have some type of baby-related party as well. I'm having a boy, so my boys and the men in my family should throw me something. I should get a dazzling array of cigars, some clothes and diapers with Philadelphia Eagles or Washington Wizards on them, maybe some fancy hats, bedsheets, bottles etc. I know this seems weird or maybe even a bit unconventional, but I think it should happen.
Plus when young Melvin is finally born in January, there will be twice as many helpful gifts for the wife and I--ultimately, isn't that what really matters? I think so. Surely somewhere out there, some man has picked up and ran with this concept...
Monday, August 22, 2011
Nick Ashford died of throat cancer yesterday. Just last year I went to see he and his wife at a company function and I had this to say
Well I lost a bet to my wife, we were NOT the only black people at the wedding this weekend. As we were walking out, we saw two black dudes hanging out in the back, although quite honestly, I think she had them planted just so she could collect on our bet. Overall the wedding was beautiful, and quite different than any wedding I've ever attended. The bride was Romanian, the groom was Irish-Catholic, and I was totally confused throughout the ceremony. I didn't know when to stand, how long to stand, when to kneel, or any of that good stuff. And I was caught of guard when I noticed that every prayer had to be sung, not recited, which is what I'm used to seeing. Still, I wasn't so confused that I couldn't see the joy of two people coming together in holy matrimony.
The next day, the wife and I went out to eat with my grandmother, my uncle, and my cousin and the subject of the movie "The Help" was brought to the table. My uncle had just seen the movie, and he asked my grandmother about some of the jobs she had to do as a youth. My grandmother started listing all the jobs she did for white people, and she also mentioned that she took care of Judy Resnick (the woman who died in the NASA Challenger explosion back in 1986) from birth to 10 years old. I never knew ANY of these stories my grandmother was telling, and considering she's battling dementia, the effects from a stroke and retina surgery, it was amazing she remembered so damn much. I also realized for me not to have heard this story before, means I am not asking her the right questions.
So maybe THAT is the reason "The Help" was supposed to be released: To encourage dialogue with our elders, so that we can hear their stories as well. I'm still not going to see the movie though...I have no problem with it per se, I just think it sucks that black women rarely get leading roles in movies--except when movies like this come along.. but that's another entry.
The next day, the wife and I went out to eat with my grandmother, my uncle, and my cousin and the subject of the movie "The Help" was brought to the table. My uncle had just seen the movie, and he asked my grandmother about some of the jobs she had to do as a youth. My grandmother started listing all the jobs she did for white people, and she also mentioned that she took care of Judy Resnick (the woman who died in the NASA Challenger explosion back in 1986) from birth to 10 years old. I never knew ANY of these stories my grandmother was telling, and considering she's battling dementia, the effects from a stroke and retina surgery, it was amazing she remembered so damn much. I also realized for me not to have heard this story before, means I am not asking her the right questions.
So maybe THAT is the reason "The Help" was supposed to be released: To encourage dialogue with our elders, so that we can hear their stories as well. I'm still not going to see the movie though...I have no problem with it per se, I just think it sucks that black women rarely get leading roles in movies--except when movies like this come along.. but that's another entry.
Friday, August 19, 2011
I'm in Canton, Ohio (home of the NFL Hall of Fame) for a wedding, and the hotel I'm staying has this as hotel key:
It may not be cool to you, but its very cool to me. It is also the only thing about Canton that is remotely interesting. I also think my wife and I may be the only two black people at this wedding, which should be pretty interesting. There's no way I'm not writing about this one..
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
The wife and I finally chose a daycare for our unborn child, and luckily for us we chose one that won't have us (that) broke. We filled out the application, the money will be sent soon, and young Melvin will officially have a place to do his baby duties while his parents make that money. It is at a church (not Catholic thank God), which makes me think that the level of b.s. will be kept at a minimum, and our child will get the religious values that continue to elude his parents. There were two issues thought
First of all, the head pastor of the church (I'm not linking his name or his picture) looks like Beaker from the Muppet Show. When my wife showed me his picture, I couldn't stop myself from laughing. When I saw him in person this morning, I had to contain my laughter, because I didn't want to jeopardize my son's spot in this wonderful daycare. But this 60-something black man looks just like Beaker..in fact, I may teach my son to make some Beaker sound effects (no I'm not that irresponsible).
Second, while explaining what the infants do during the day, the woman in charge used the word "comfortability" which definitely bothered my English major sensibilities. This won't prevent my son from staying there, because this woman was on top of every detail and every question we asked. Still..comfortability? really? I'd totally use that word in Scrabble, and dare someone to challenge it, but I damn sure wouldn't go out in public and say that...or dramatical for that matter.
And finally, I felt my son move in my wife's stomach for the first time on Monday night, and I am pumped. Soon, I will be ensconced in baby-related matters, and the whole direction of this blog will take a different turn. Not yet though.
When my main man Sabin and I were in college, we used to listen to the song you see posted below, and instead of "whatta bam bam", we'd say "What a bargain!". That's how mature we were/are.
First of all, the head pastor of the church (I'm not linking his name or his picture) looks like Beaker from the Muppet Show. When my wife showed me his picture, I couldn't stop myself from laughing. When I saw him in person this morning, I had to contain my laughter, because I didn't want to jeopardize my son's spot in this wonderful daycare. But this 60-something black man looks just like Beaker..in fact, I may teach my son to make some Beaker sound effects (no I'm not that irresponsible).
Second, while explaining what the infants do during the day, the woman in charge used the word "comfortability" which definitely bothered my English major sensibilities. This won't prevent my son from staying there, because this woman was on top of every detail and every question we asked. Still..comfortability? really? I'd totally use that word in Scrabble, and dare someone to challenge it, but I damn sure wouldn't go out in public and say that...or dramatical for that matter.
And finally, I felt my son move in my wife's stomach for the first time on Monday night, and I am pumped. Soon, I will be ensconced in baby-related matters, and the whole direction of this blog will take a different turn. Not yet though.
When my main man Sabin and I were in college, we used to listen to the song you see posted below, and instead of "whatta bam bam", we'd say "What a bargain!". That's how mature we were/are.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
About a month or so ago, my wife discussed an article with me that laid out the pros and cons of having sex during pregnancy (yeah you might be grossed out, but you might laugh so stick around). Maybe to you the thought of having a pregnant woman and her husband doing the dirty deed is disgusting, but to me it is not only beautiful, but it will be my way of life the next few months.
The article broke down desirable positions (man on top gets the thumbs down, man on side or behind gets the thumbs up), it discusses that the woman may not be in the mood due to nausea and other factors, and it even discusses the advantages of a (female) orgasm when it gets close to baby delivery time. As an aside, usually when I read WebMD articles, I'm trying to figure out whether the pain in my side means I'm going to die in 48 hours or less, so to read an article for information purposes only was very refreshing.
At one point in the article, when sexual dos and donts were being discussed, the author writes the following:
Now, the second part of that paragraph is just flat-out scary, so I'm ignoring that. But the first part is what I'd like to delve into a little deeper (that's what he said). Who are these men/women blowing in lady parts, let alone pregnant lady parts? Who has that in their repertoire? Who tells their lady, "Yeah I'm licking, fingering, flicking and biting, but once I blow on/in your ass its a wrap son, what you know about that?" And more importantly, are women telling their men/women, "Blow in it baby, blow in it! Take me there". As a popular Hispanic singer once sang, "I need to know!"
Here's a scenario when blowing in the snatch is ok. Let's say the man has just allowed the woman to go down on him, and he wants to return the favor. Only 30 seconds elapse between when he "finishes" and when he is heading down to hook his lady up in the same fashion. He's confused, he's still excited, and most importantly he's winded, so when he gets down there, he blows a few harmless but forceful breaths into the snatch....It could happen my friends..not with me though.
The article broke down desirable positions (man on top gets the thumbs down, man on side or behind gets the thumbs up), it discusses that the woman may not be in the mood due to nausea and other factors, and it even discusses the advantages of a (female) orgasm when it gets close to baby delivery time. As an aside, usually when I read WebMD articles, I'm trying to figure out whether the pain in my side means I'm going to die in 48 hours or less, so to read an article for information purposes only was very refreshing.
At one point in the article, when sexual dos and donts were being discussed, the author writes the following:
One sexual act to avoid during pregnancy is blowing during oral sex, Foreman adds. “If oral sex is performed on the pregnant woman while blowing air into the vagina, the woman can develop an air embolus, which can travel to the lung and have potentially fatal consequences.
Now, the second part of that paragraph is just flat-out scary, so I'm ignoring that. But the first part is what I'd like to delve into a little deeper (that's what he said). Who are these men/women blowing in lady parts, let alone pregnant lady parts? Who has that in their repertoire? Who tells their lady, "Yeah I'm licking, fingering, flicking and biting, but once I blow on/in your ass its a wrap son, what you know about that?" And more importantly, are women telling their men/women, "Blow in it baby, blow in it! Take me there". As a popular Hispanic singer once sang, "I need to know!"
Here's a scenario when blowing in the snatch is ok. Let's say the man has just allowed the woman to go down on him, and he wants to return the favor. Only 30 seconds elapse between when he "finishes" and when he is heading down to hook his lady up in the same fashion. He's confused, he's still excited, and most importantly he's winded, so when he gets down there, he blows a few harmless but forceful breaths into the snatch....It could happen my friends..not with me though.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Here is my wife's response to my entry yesterday:
I’ve been threatening to guest blog here again for quite some time. It’s been a while since my last go at this. I felt after yesterday’s pat on the back entry of Rashad’s bed making prowess this was as good a time as any.
Let me first say, that I’m happy and thankful Rashad is stepping up during this pregnancy. I hear about so many men/boyfriends/husbands that don’t so kudos to him. Second, I don’t know where I heard it – probably some has been, relationship expert on Oprah – but basically the lady said if your spouse is doing something to help out, don’t nag and complain be thankful or just do it yourself. I honesty try to do this except when it comes to the bed because it’s a – well a shitty mess.
I have to paint you a really good picture of what a bed he’s made looks like as his attempt yesterday was by far the best I’ve ever seen since I’ve known him. EVER! It should be noted I tried to give him a hi-five for a job well done. So yeah anomaly my ass! Imagine if you will someone has made your bed and it looks like a toddler jumped up and down all over it then buried himself under the covers. That’s what the bed looks like generally after Rashad has done his so-called best. It looks like a small child is under there somewhere and the pillows are propped up all proud-like. And lest I forget that one side has the comforter dragging the floor and the other side is barely grazing the edge of the bed. Oh, and he does this thing – where under all this frumpy mess, he folds the sheet back. That’s his move – the fold back and he is always soooo proud of it as if this bed is ready for showroom status. You bet your sweet ass I’m taking a picture of this atrocity and laughing my ass off!
It really isn’t hard to make a bed. I don’t even make the bed as great as I was expected to as a youth. Making your bed says look, there’s some order in this home. It says here’s to a new good night’s worth of sleep in a comfortable spot. He doesn’t get it and I don’t expect him to. This is why I make the bed 95% of the time unless I have to leave work before him. The real question here is why would a grown man spend so much time un-smoothing a bed? We spent a good 10 minutes at my sister’s house last weekend smoothing and unsmoothing the bed in her guest room because he just couldn’t stand the great bed making job I’d done. God bless his whole heart.
I’ve been threatening to guest blog here again for quite some time. It’s been a while since my last go at this. I felt after yesterday’s pat on the back entry of Rashad’s bed making prowess this was as good a time as any.
Let me first say, that I’m happy and thankful Rashad is stepping up during this pregnancy. I hear about so many men/boyfriends/husbands that don’t so kudos to him. Second, I don’t know where I heard it – probably some has been, relationship expert on Oprah – but basically the lady said if your spouse is doing something to help out, don’t nag and complain be thankful or just do it yourself. I honesty try to do this except when it comes to the bed because it’s a – well a shitty mess.
I have to paint you a really good picture of what a bed he’s made looks like as his attempt yesterday was by far the best I’ve ever seen since I’ve known him. EVER! It should be noted I tried to give him a hi-five for a job well done. So yeah anomaly my ass! Imagine if you will someone has made your bed and it looks like a toddler jumped up and down all over it then buried himself under the covers. That’s what the bed looks like generally after Rashad has done his so-called best. It looks like a small child is under there somewhere and the pillows are propped up all proud-like. And lest I forget that one side has the comforter dragging the floor and the other side is barely grazing the edge of the bed. Oh, and he does this thing – where under all this frumpy mess, he folds the sheet back. That’s his move – the fold back and he is always soooo proud of it as if this bed is ready for showroom status. You bet your sweet ass I’m taking a picture of this atrocity and laughing my ass off!
It really isn’t hard to make a bed. I don’t even make the bed as great as I was expected to as a youth. Making your bed says look, there’s some order in this home. It says here’s to a new good night’s worth of sleep in a comfortable spot. He doesn’t get it and I don’t expect him to. This is why I make the bed 95% of the time unless I have to leave work before him. The real question here is why would a grown man spend so much time un-smoothing a bed? We spent a good 10 minutes at my sister’s house last weekend smoothing and unsmoothing the bed in her guest room because he just couldn’t stand the great bed making job I’d done. God bless his whole heart.
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
The wife's pregnancy (she's coming up on 4 months and 3 weeks) means that I have to pick up the slack with some of the duties around the house--mainly washing clothes and cleaning the bathroom. It isn't that I cannot perform these tasks in a diligent fashion, because I did them when I was single (although there is one person who reads my blog who visited my house one time when I was single and said my bathroom was messy, I assure you that was an anomaly). It just so happens that my wife is a super anal(pause) perfectionist who likes things done her way, and my way is rarely good enough.
For example this morning she had to be at work super early, which means today was one of the few times I had to make the bed. You see the wife feels like the bed has to made each and every day--even when she takes a nap at 7pm, and gets right back in the bed at 10pm, she still thinks the bed should perfectly made. I think that's horseshit. I think making the bed every day is something you make kids do so that they are disciplined, and single adults should do so they don't get judged by people they hope to sleep with that night. Married couples should have a making-the-bed option, which I clearly would not use unless I was having company (which is never).
Anyway as I made the bed, I was overwhelmed with pressure. No matter how good of a job I do making the bed, the wife comes in, smooths out the bed(whether its un-smooth or not), and mocks the job I have done. In fact one time she took a picture of my bed-making skills, sent them to her sister, and they just laughed and laughed at my work. Still,this morning I fought through the pressure, suppressed my lack of confidence, and I made the bed in such a way that you the readers would be proud of me, even if my wife is not.
By the way she has no complaints about my bathroom cleaning and my clothes washing, it is just the bed making that sucks..
For example this morning she had to be at work super early, which means today was one of the few times I had to make the bed. You see the wife feels like the bed has to made each and every day--even when she takes a nap at 7pm, and gets right back in the bed at 10pm, she still thinks the bed should perfectly made. I think that's horseshit. I think making the bed every day is something you make kids do so that they are disciplined, and single adults should do so they don't get judged by people they hope to sleep with that night. Married couples should have a making-the-bed option, which I clearly would not use unless I was having company (which is never).
Anyway as I made the bed, I was overwhelmed with pressure. No matter how good of a job I do making the bed, the wife comes in, smooths out the bed(whether its un-smooth or not), and mocks the job I have done. In fact one time she took a picture of my bed-making skills, sent them to her sister, and they just laughed and laughed at my work. Still,this morning I fought through the pressure, suppressed my lack of confidence, and I made the bed in such a way that you the readers would be proud of me, even if my wife is not.
By the way she has no complaints about my bathroom cleaning and my clothes washing, it is just the bed making that sucks..
Monday, August 08, 2011
My train ride into work is about five minutes long, and usually it is quick and painless. This morning, I spent four of out of those five minutes, watching this emotionally unstable lady make faces at me. At first I was about to get angry and say something, then I quickly figured out that she was emotionally disturbed. She stuck her tongue out me, she bugged her eyes out, she tugged at her ears, and she did other juvenile things that caught me completely off guard. Then she made faces like she was going to cry, and started hitting herself in the head. The two or three other people who saw this, did their best to look away and ignore her, but I was way too curious to look away. I almost laughed, but I'm glad I made some attempt to act my age, because it was just sad. Before I got off the train, I went over and told her to have a nice day, and she sanely said, "Thank you, you do the same." Very weird..
Two minutes later as I walked towards my building, I saw this woman who easily weighed about 300 lbs, bending over to tie her shoe. Most people just kneel down to tie their shoes in the middle of the street, so their ass won't be exposed, but not this woman. She was bent straight over, to reveal a black, sheer thong, except the thong was NOT covering what it should have been covering. She stood straight up one time to pull up her pants, but they were clearly too big, because as soon as she bent back over, there was ass (and other things) exposed, and it was disgusting. It wasn't just that was she overweight, because who cares about that..but how can you not feel that warm August air running all up your exposed asscrack and snatch? And why are your pants that loose? I was deeply offended, and I stepped with purpose past her. I can't say the same for the guy in the postal office worker who stopped and try to holler at her..
Two minutes later as I walked towards my building, I saw this woman who easily weighed about 300 lbs, bending over to tie her shoe. Most people just kneel down to tie their shoes in the middle of the street, so their ass won't be exposed, but not this woman. She was bent straight over, to reveal a black, sheer thong, except the thong was NOT covering what it should have been covering. She stood straight up one time to pull up her pants, but they were clearly too big, because as soon as she bent back over, there was ass (and other things) exposed, and it was disgusting. It wasn't just that was she overweight, because who cares about that..but how can you not feel that warm August air running all up your exposed asscrack and snatch? And why are your pants that loose? I was deeply offended, and I stepped with purpose past her. I can't say the same for the guy in the postal office worker who stopped and try to holler at her..
Thursday, August 04, 2011
I have a lot of cousins who currently live in Akron, Ohio, and when I was younger I used to mock them for still being there. Some chose to go to college in the area, others never went to college, but they all chose to stay in that city even when they were old enough to explore and know that Akron is not really the place to be. Sure LeBron James is from there, and there is a fancy golf tournament played there every year, but it just isn't that great of a city (my apologies to those of you who live and/or visited there and loved it).
But I can admit that in the past month or so, I have seen one of the benefits of them staying in Akron, or just staying close to lots of family in general. Childcare. The wife and I are currently on a mission to find childcare for our unborn son, and it is a bitch. I know we live in DC and all, but that is still no excuse for the closest childcare spot to our house to be charging $2600 a month (and yes you read that right). There have been some other nice places that aren't as close to our house that are charging anywhere between $1200 and $1900, and while that's not quite as bad, that still seems expensive. The nice, affordable places under a grand have extensive waiting lists with a few exceptions, and the wife and I have pounced on them but we've yet to lock anything down. We still have plenty of time between now and March or April when our son would actually be entering daycare, but we are still feeling the pressure.
If either one of us lived closer to our families, we could just leave our child with them (after a careful search for a competent, sane family member of course), and we could ask them to do it for free. Of course we would offer money, and they would say, "Oh no, you don't owe me anything", and then we'd try and offer again, and they would refuse our money again, and then we would rescind our money offer completely, and there would be a win-win situation on our hands. The family gets to see our genius child grow, and we get free childcare.
But as it stands, neither one of us really lives close to our family..her family is an hour away, and it really would not be very convenient for us to drop the kid way over there and then get to work in a timely fashion. And my dad is an hour away, but I can pretty much guarantee that he will not watch the child until he's potty-trained (can't blame him there, those are my rules for babysitting as well). The wife and I are in the process of devising a list of bribes to get our respective mothers to retire and move here, but we've yet to come up with the right offer. The dance continues...In the meantime, if any of you wonderful people reading this blog know of anyone/anyplace in the DC area, where we can take our child without worrying about creepy behavior or people, please let me know. There's a luxurious vacation to Akron in it for you.
But I can admit that in the past month or so, I have seen one of the benefits of them staying in Akron, or just staying close to lots of family in general. Childcare. The wife and I are currently on a mission to find childcare for our unborn son, and it is a bitch. I know we live in DC and all, but that is still no excuse for the closest childcare spot to our house to be charging $2600 a month (and yes you read that right). There have been some other nice places that aren't as close to our house that are charging anywhere between $1200 and $1900, and while that's not quite as bad, that still seems expensive. The nice, affordable places under a grand have extensive waiting lists with a few exceptions, and the wife and I have pounced on them but we've yet to lock anything down. We still have plenty of time between now and March or April when our son would actually be entering daycare, but we are still feeling the pressure.
If either one of us lived closer to our families, we could just leave our child with them (after a careful search for a competent, sane family member of course), and we could ask them to do it for free. Of course we would offer money, and they would say, "Oh no, you don't owe me anything", and then we'd try and offer again, and they would refuse our money again, and then we would rescind our money offer completely, and there would be a win-win situation on our hands. The family gets to see our genius child grow, and we get free childcare.
But as it stands, neither one of us really lives close to our family..her family is an hour away, and it really would not be very convenient for us to drop the kid way over there and then get to work in a timely fashion. And my dad is an hour away, but I can pretty much guarantee that he will not watch the child until he's potty-trained (can't blame him there, those are my rules for babysitting as well). The wife and I are in the process of devising a list of bribes to get our respective mothers to retire and move here, but we've yet to come up with the right offer. The dance continues...In the meantime, if any of you wonderful people reading this blog know of anyone/anyplace in the DC area, where we can take our child without worrying about creepy behavior or people, please let me know. There's a luxurious vacation to Akron in it for you.
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
There is always one guy on the train who refuses to hold on to the 5 million railings available to passengers who choose not to sit down. He's usually too busy reading, fiddling with his iPod/iPad/Blackberry to truly pay attention to his surroundings, but most of the time he's able to use his balance to keep himself from busting his ass, and suffering an embarrassing fall. I can admit I've been this guy a time or two, but I have never fallen on the ground or on someone else. For the most part, I use the railings available to me.
This morning there was this gentlemen who found it necessary to read the Washington Post Express (a mini-newspaper for this people who do not have the time or intelligence to read the Washington Post. Yes I'm exaggerating and yes I'm judging). He was standing to my left, and I noticed that right before the train left the station, he chose to hold to nothing at all. He was standing straight up (at least if his knees were bent, he would have had some balance) with his little paper spread out, and his head buried in it.
At first the train took off at a nice leisurely pace, then out of nowhere the train stopped rather abruptly (as trains are prone to do). This gentlemen ignored the 10 million railings available to him, and out of desperation tried to grab my forearm to keep himself from falling down. Me being the righteous and helpful black man that I am, I jerked my arm away from him, and watched him fall flat on his ass with his newspaper sitting right in his lap. With anger in his eyes he used the railing (too little too late) to stand back up, and he proceeded to have this conversation with me.
Him: Thanks for the help a$$hole
Me (hearing every word, but daring him to repeat them): Excuse me?
Him: Thanks for the help (no a$$hole the second time)
Me: Use the f**king railing that's why they're all around you, its not my job to hold your dumb ass up
Him: No but you didn't have to be a jerk about it
Me: That's who I am at 7am
**I got a little laughter from my fellow morning passengers***
The guy said nothing else after that, he just went right back to not holding on, while he read his paper. Luckily for him (and me) there were no more abrupt stops, and we both got off the train at the same stop, in the same direction. We rode up the escalator together, and then he went left, and I went right, but before he got out of earshot I said, "Have a great day a$$hole!". No response..although the police office standing there told me not to be a troublemaker this early in the morning, and I apologized.
The way I see it? I'll have a newborn son in about 5 months, so I need to get all of this borderline juvenile behavior out of my system before then. And yes I'll be writing about this joyous occasion a whole lot in the coming months, so brace yourself..
This morning there was this gentlemen who found it necessary to read the Washington Post Express (a mini-newspaper for this people who do not have the time or intelligence to read the Washington Post. Yes I'm exaggerating and yes I'm judging). He was standing to my left, and I noticed that right before the train left the station, he chose to hold to nothing at all. He was standing straight up (at least if his knees were bent, he would have had some balance) with his little paper spread out, and his head buried in it.
At first the train took off at a nice leisurely pace, then out of nowhere the train stopped rather abruptly (as trains are prone to do). This gentlemen ignored the 10 million railings available to him, and out of desperation tried to grab my forearm to keep himself from falling down. Me being the righteous and helpful black man that I am, I jerked my arm away from him, and watched him fall flat on his ass with his newspaper sitting right in his lap. With anger in his eyes he used the railing (too little too late) to stand back up, and he proceeded to have this conversation with me.
Him: Thanks for the help a$$hole
Me (hearing every word, but daring him to repeat them): Excuse me?
Him: Thanks for the help (no a$$hole the second time)
Me: Use the f**king railing that's why they're all around you, its not my job to hold your dumb ass up
Him: No but you didn't have to be a jerk about it
Me: That's who I am at 7am
**I got a little laughter from my fellow morning passengers***
The guy said nothing else after that, he just went right back to not holding on, while he read his paper. Luckily for him (and me) there were no more abrupt stops, and we both got off the train at the same stop, in the same direction. We rode up the escalator together, and then he went left, and I went right, but before he got out of earshot I said, "Have a great day a$$hole!". No response..although the police office standing there told me not to be a troublemaker this early in the morning, and I apologized.
The way I see it? I'll have a newborn son in about 5 months, so I need to get all of this borderline juvenile behavior out of my system before then. And yes I'll be writing about this joyous occasion a whole lot in the coming months, so brace yourself..
Friday, July 29, 2011
1) The wife is four months and one week pregnant (17 weeks to be exact)
2) I waited this long because we lost the baby the last time she was pregnant back in '08. This time around, everything looks damn good.
3) We learned today it is a boy
4) I wanted the name Melvin, but the wife shot that down...
2) I waited this long because we lost the baby the last time she was pregnant back in '08. This time around, everything looks damn good.
3) We learned today it is a boy
4) I wanted the name Melvin, but the wife shot that down...
I have heard many times over the years, that one of the keys to losing weight, staying healthy, and maintaining an overall positive lifestyle is sleep. 8 hours is the desired number, and that allows your body to properly shut down, before it gets called into work again the next morning. Sounds easy enough right? Not bloody likely.
My body is a cross between a college student and a card-carrying AARP, senior citizen. Monday through Friday, I usually go to bed 'round midnight, and I'm awake around 5:30. Yes I usually set my alarm at the time, so I can wake up and workout, but I usually wake anywhere between 5 and 30 minutes beforehand. On the weekends, I can go to bed as late at 3am, and you can bet your bottom dollar (never knew what that really meant) that by 7am I will be awake, no matter how much I try to go to sleep. The only time I seem to be able to nap successfully is late Sunday afternoon, and of course that causes me to be up until 1-2am, but then I still wake up at 5:30, which means I'm Mr. Angry Man all Monday long.
So I guess my issue/question is how do I train my body to go to bed earlier, so I can get these elusive 8 hours of sleep. Do I force myself to go bed at 10pm every night, only to find myself awake and staring at the ceiling? Do I just hope that this 8 hour rule is a myth and ignore it? Do I drink two glasses of red wine around 9 or so to aid this process (actually I tried that before and it didn't work)? I need guidance by some of you people who hit that 7-8 hour mark.
I never, ever get sick of hearing Mary J. Blige channel her inner Anita Baker in this song...never!
My body is a cross between a college student and a card-carrying AARP, senior citizen. Monday through Friday, I usually go to bed 'round midnight, and I'm awake around 5:30. Yes I usually set my alarm at the time, so I can wake up and workout, but I usually wake anywhere between 5 and 30 minutes beforehand. On the weekends, I can go to bed as late at 3am, and you can bet your bottom dollar (never knew what that really meant) that by 7am I will be awake, no matter how much I try to go to sleep. The only time I seem to be able to nap successfully is late Sunday afternoon, and of course that causes me to be up until 1-2am, but then I still wake up at 5:30, which means I'm Mr. Angry Man all Monday long.
So I guess my issue/question is how do I train my body to go to bed earlier, so I can get these elusive 8 hours of sleep. Do I force myself to go bed at 10pm every night, only to find myself awake and staring at the ceiling? Do I just hope that this 8 hour rule is a myth and ignore it? Do I drink two glasses of red wine around 9 or so to aid this process (actually I tried that before and it didn't work)? I need guidance by some of you people who hit that 7-8 hour mark.
I never, ever get sick of hearing Mary J. Blige channel her inner Anita Baker in this song...never!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
A short while ago I was walking home from work, when I saw someone I thought I recognized, but because I wasn't 100% sure, I made it a point to keep walking. Then I saw this person trying to get my attention, and she started to walk towards me, and I still did not know who the hell she was. Then she insulted me by asking me if my name was Jamal, and I said no, that's my brother, and finally she pointed at me, and said "Rashad right?", and I said "Bingo!".
Her name was Charisse and my mother was one of her professors at George Mason University about 10 years ago. She remembered me from my mother's going-away-ceremony at George Mason 4 years ago, and she told me that my mother would talk about me and my brother non-stop. On top of that, Charisse had developed an outside friendship with my mother, so she was keenly aware of who I was, what was going on with me, etc (she didn't know my name though, but I let that slide)
Charisse was walking towards the metro, and I was walking towards my house, so we did not talk for too long, but she did give me her card, and she told me to tell my mother I said hello, and I said I would. The last thing she said was congrats on the wedding, and I thanked her, and then she said that she remembered my wife from the George Mason event, and I told her that was not my wife, just a friend of mine who wanted to meet my mother. She was a bit embarassed, but we shared a laugh, we said our goodbyes, I flicked her business card and said "oh yeah! (an inside New Jack City joke), and I went on my merry way.
I passed along the message to my mother, who said she would reach out to Charisse, and then I emailed my friend Michelle (the woman who Charisse thought was my wife), and told her the funny story, and then I got lost in my own life, and forgot about the encounter.
Yesterday, about five minutes after I ate dinner, my mother sent me an email and said that Charisse had died of a heart attack after a bout with walking pneumonia--and she was only 32 years old. I immediately called my mother to make sure she was fine, and she was understandably shaken, but she held it together. I was a little freaked out that someone I had just sent and interacted with, was now dead and gone. On top of that I found it weird that my friend Michelle (the one Charisse thought was my wife), who I had reached out to after seeing Charisse, had a heart attack of her own at age 33 back in 2008 (she survived). I'm really not intelligent enough to decipher the symmetry in all of this, I just know that her untimely death is a bit sad. At least we left off on a high note by laughing...
Her name was Charisse and my mother was one of her professors at George Mason University about 10 years ago. She remembered me from my mother's going-away-ceremony at George Mason 4 years ago, and she told me that my mother would talk about me and my brother non-stop. On top of that, Charisse had developed an outside friendship with my mother, so she was keenly aware of who I was, what was going on with me, etc (she didn't know my name though, but I let that slide)
Charisse was walking towards the metro, and I was walking towards my house, so we did not talk for too long, but she did give me her card, and she told me to tell my mother I said hello, and I said I would. The last thing she said was congrats on the wedding, and I thanked her, and then she said that she remembered my wife from the George Mason event, and I told her that was not my wife, just a friend of mine who wanted to meet my mother. She was a bit embarassed, but we shared a laugh, we said our goodbyes, I flicked her business card and said "oh yeah! (an inside New Jack City joke), and I went on my merry way.
I passed along the message to my mother, who said she would reach out to Charisse, and then I emailed my friend Michelle (the woman who Charisse thought was my wife), and told her the funny story, and then I got lost in my own life, and forgot about the encounter.
Yesterday, about five minutes after I ate dinner, my mother sent me an email and said that Charisse had died of a heart attack after a bout with walking pneumonia--and she was only 32 years old. I immediately called my mother to make sure she was fine, and she was understandably shaken, but she held it together. I was a little freaked out that someone I had just sent and interacted with, was now dead and gone. On top of that I found it weird that my friend Michelle (the one Charisse thought was my wife), who I had reached out to after seeing Charisse, had a heart attack of her own at age 33 back in 2008 (she survived). I'm really not intelligent enough to decipher the symmetry in all of this, I just know that her untimely death is a bit sad. At least we left off on a high note by laughing...
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
I hate to be negative after the inspirational blog post I put up yesterday, but balance (and people) make the world go round, so all is well.
So this morning I get to the JCC at 5:56am--a full four minutes before the building was to open. I was the only one standing there so I decided to tug at the door to see if it was open, but it was not, so I stood right in front of the door waiting. Two minutes later, another gentlemen walked up behind me, ignored the fact that I was standing right by the door, and tried to open it as well, but of course it was locked. He gave me a goofy smile, and said, "I had to try right?", and I gave him a stoic look and said, "What you thought I was standing here for the hell of it?" Then there was uncomfortable silence.
I hate people like that, I gotta tell you. These same people will see the "up" arrow lit at an elevator, and they will roll up and hit the button one, two, three even four times, as if that will magically summon the elevator from its hiding place. These are the same people that will be stuck at a light 11 cars back, and STILL beep the horn frantically, even though they have no clue what's going on ahead of them. I would like to cut all of their eyelids off, and give them copious amounts of Ambien. Be patient and wait like everyone else has to.
I would also like to take a bit of time to send a shout out to the brother in the Range Rover this morning, who was on the corner of Connecticut and Q St in DC. You didn't care that it was 7am, and usually the only noise on that street is from people talking, cars and trucks going by, and birds chirping. You felt the need to have your windows rolled down, while some terrible Lil Wayne song was blaring through your overblown speakers. Then you had the nerve to be leaning way back in your seat, as if anyone except my annoyed ass was paying attention to you. Why is all that necessary so early? No women were paying attention to him, and even if they were, it was 7am, they aren't awake enough to be receptive to all that.
Anyway I'm done. If someone could tell me when apples are back in season, I would appreciate it. I'm tiring of eating peaches and grapes.
So this morning I get to the JCC at 5:56am--a full four minutes before the building was to open. I was the only one standing there so I decided to tug at the door to see if it was open, but it was not, so I stood right in front of the door waiting. Two minutes later, another gentlemen walked up behind me, ignored the fact that I was standing right by the door, and tried to open it as well, but of course it was locked. He gave me a goofy smile, and said, "I had to try right?", and I gave him a stoic look and said, "What you thought I was standing here for the hell of it?" Then there was uncomfortable silence.
I hate people like that, I gotta tell you. These same people will see the "up" arrow lit at an elevator, and they will roll up and hit the button one, two, three even four times, as if that will magically summon the elevator from its hiding place. These are the same people that will be stuck at a light 11 cars back, and STILL beep the horn frantically, even though they have no clue what's going on ahead of them. I would like to cut all of their eyelids off, and give them copious amounts of Ambien. Be patient and wait like everyone else has to.
I would also like to take a bit of time to send a shout out to the brother in the Range Rover this morning, who was on the corner of Connecticut and Q St in DC. You didn't care that it was 7am, and usually the only noise on that street is from people talking, cars and trucks going by, and birds chirping. You felt the need to have your windows rolled down, while some terrible Lil Wayne song was blaring through your overblown speakers. Then you had the nerve to be leaning way back in your seat, as if anyone except my annoyed ass was paying attention to you. Why is all that necessary so early? No women were paying attention to him, and even if they were, it was 7am, they aren't awake enough to be receptive to all that.
Anyway I'm done. If someone could tell me when apples are back in season, I would appreciate it. I'm tiring of eating peaches and grapes.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Every now and then I like to give my readers an update on my main man Brian. Brian is one of the fine PR guys for the Washington Wizards who had brain cancer and has battled back (his story can be read here). Brian has been extremely helpful during my three-year career in covering the Wizards, and reading his blog during that time has been scary and inspiring all at the same time.
Well in the past couple of months, Brian has become a father, which means his blog has gone from him wondering about his own mortality, to enjoying his second chance at life, to he and his wife creating a young life. It may not be a big deal to you, but it is a pretty big deal to me, so I'm sharing. The tales of he and his young son can be seen here.
Well in the past couple of months, Brian has become a father, which means his blog has gone from him wondering about his own mortality, to enjoying his second chance at life, to he and his wife creating a young life. It may not be a big deal to you, but it is a pretty big deal to me, so I'm sharing. The tales of he and his young son can be seen here.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Last night as I watched tv with the wife, I took time out of my precious evening to concoct a mixtape for lifeguard at my pool (read that sentence about five times, and I promise you that the ridiculousness of it will kick in around the third time). All that stuck in my head was that he wanted some smooth R&B and some smooth rap. Initially I was having a devil of a time trying to designate what was smooth, what was jagged, what was hard, etc. Then, once I realized no sex, money or fame was going to result from the success of this mixtape, I smartened up and just picked some songs that I saw fit for him to have.
So this morning before I did my mile swim, I delivered the mixtape (on cd), and his eyes lit up like he had just won the lottery. He thanked me for remembering, and then he said, "So it's smooth right?", and I said, "Absolutely it is smooth!". Then he asked me if there were all kinds of music on there--which completely went against the strict smooth guidelines he had previously laid down--and I said there was R&B, and there was hip hop. He was visibly disappointed by this news, so I put on my mixtape scientist hat and explained to him that mixtapes with multiple genres on them were no good and a bit confusing. I stupidly told him that if he wanted different types of music, that I could make him another mixtape, but this particular one was all smooth, all the time. He bought it and the smile returned.
He did not saying anything good or bad about the mix after my swim, he just told me to have a nice weekend. I have no clue whether he'll like it or not, but I did my best...I did my best. Here's the mixtape I gave him:
1)Here I Stand - Usher
2)Looking for Another Pure Love - Stevie Wonder
3)Can't Get Over You - Joe
4)Find The Way - Eric Roberson
5)My Peoples- Raheem Devaughn
6)Just Like That - R. Kelly
7)Crush - Zhane
8)Pretty Young Thing (Demo) - Michael Jackson
9)House of Cards - Foreign Exchange
10)The Newness - Eric Roberson
11)Want You to Know - Vanessa Marquez featuring Justin Timberlake
12)Umi Says - Mos Def
13)Nag Champa - Common
14)Gettin Up - Q-tip
15)Electric Relaxation - A Tribe Called Quest
16)You Got Me - The Roots
17)Climax - Slum Village
I probably could have done better, but oh well
So this morning before I did my mile swim, I delivered the mixtape (on cd), and his eyes lit up like he had just won the lottery. He thanked me for remembering, and then he said, "So it's smooth right?", and I said, "Absolutely it is smooth!". Then he asked me if there were all kinds of music on there--which completely went against the strict smooth guidelines he had previously laid down--and I said there was R&B, and there was hip hop. He was visibly disappointed by this news, so I put on my mixtape scientist hat and explained to him that mixtapes with multiple genres on them were no good and a bit confusing. I stupidly told him that if he wanted different types of music, that I could make him another mixtape, but this particular one was all smooth, all the time. He bought it and the smile returned.
He did not saying anything good or bad about the mix after my swim, he just told me to have a nice weekend. I have no clue whether he'll like it or not, but I did my best...I did my best. Here's the mixtape I gave him:
1)Here I Stand - Usher
2)Looking for Another Pure Love - Stevie Wonder
3)Can't Get Over You - Joe
4)Find The Way - Eric Roberson
5)My Peoples- Raheem Devaughn
6)Just Like That - R. Kelly
7)Crush - Zhane
8)Pretty Young Thing (Demo) - Michael Jackson
9)House of Cards - Foreign Exchange
10)The Newness - Eric Roberson
11)Want You to Know - Vanessa Marquez featuring Justin Timberlake
12)Umi Says - Mos Def
13)Nag Champa - Common
14)Gettin Up - Q-tip
15)Electric Relaxation - A Tribe Called Quest
16)You Got Me - The Roots
17)Climax - Slum Village
I probably could have done better, but oh well
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The picture you see below is flyer from my father-in-law's church. I know I should not clown the Lord, the church, my father-in-law, the beach (I got married on one) or the idea, but damn if this isn't the funniest thing I've seen in awhile. If I was asked to, I couldn't even hand this flyer out with a straight face. And, as an added bonus, if you stare at this long enough, you'll see a third person rise out of the water holding a bible...
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
I did not sleep very well last night (2 hours of sleep max), so when my alarm went off at 5:30, I really started to hit the snooze button so that I could be properly rested. But, since I have in the midst of a good run workout-wise, I decided to get my ass up and head to the pool for my mile swim. I arrived at the pool at 5:58am, I changed, I walked to the pool and the door was locked. 10 minutes later I found someone who told me the lifeguard was running late, and 20 minutes after that he finally showed up and unlocked the pool--but only after telling me that 1)he had only been late twice in 15 years (someone else verified this) and 2)there was a bad accident on I-95. Rather than being a cranky ass, I said it was no big deal and I kept it moving, and did a 30 minutes swim.
Then I moved to the basketball court to do my 15 minutes worth of working out over there, and there was this older man walking laps around the court. Now technically on the gym schedule, it says that from 6-8, the gym is reserved for walkers. I've been going to this gym for 3 years, and I have never seen a walker until today. I tried to shoot the ball and do my little drills, but two out of my four shots hit the elderly walker. Both times he let out a combination of a yell and a groan that made my error seem way worse than it really was, and I apologized profusely. But in fairness to me, dude wasn't even walking with his head up, even after he got hit the first time. He just kept his head down and kept right on walking, so in reality I could have just ignored the basket, and thrown the ball directly at his precious head of white hair, and he'd have been none of the wiser. But I did not. I simply apologized again, exited the gym, and left the man alone with his thoughts while he walked.
THEN, right before I left, the I've-only-been-late-twice-in-15-years lifeguard stopped me and had the following conversation with me:
Lifeguard: Hey Rashad, can you make me a cd?
Me: Excuse me?
Lifeguard: Yeah man I always see you with headphones on, so I know you like music, so can you make a cd?
Me (hesitating): Ok..um..what kind of music do you like?
Lifeguard: I like rap, r&B, rap(yes he said it twice), you know all kinds, what about you?
Me: I listen to all kinds to, jazz, hip-hop (yes it was snobbish to play synonym card), R&B, soft rock
Lifeguard (interrupting me): yeah yeah, I think I want smooth rap, and smooth R&B
*** As an aside, I still have no clue what the smooth part of that equation really means, but I rolled with it***
Me: Oh no doubt. Smooth right?
Lifeguard: Yes yes, something very smooth
Me: I got you man, I'll bring it on Thursday.
So the question I now have, how the f**k do you make a mixtape for a 40-45 year old dude? I mean seriously..
Then I moved to the basketball court to do my 15 minutes worth of working out over there, and there was this older man walking laps around the court. Now technically on the gym schedule, it says that from 6-8, the gym is reserved for walkers. I've been going to this gym for 3 years, and I have never seen a walker until today. I tried to shoot the ball and do my little drills, but two out of my four shots hit the elderly walker. Both times he let out a combination of a yell and a groan that made my error seem way worse than it really was, and I apologized profusely. But in fairness to me, dude wasn't even walking with his head up, even after he got hit the first time. He just kept his head down and kept right on walking, so in reality I could have just ignored the basket, and thrown the ball directly at his precious head of white hair, and he'd have been none of the wiser. But I did not. I simply apologized again, exited the gym, and left the man alone with his thoughts while he walked.
THEN, right before I left, the I've-only-been-late-twice-in-15-years lifeguard stopped me and had the following conversation with me:
Lifeguard: Hey Rashad, can you make me a cd?
Me: Excuse me?
Lifeguard: Yeah man I always see you with headphones on, so I know you like music, so can you make a cd?
Me (hesitating): Ok..um..what kind of music do you like?
Lifeguard: I like rap, r&B, rap(yes he said it twice), you know all kinds, what about you?
Me: I listen to all kinds to, jazz, hip-hop (yes it was snobbish to play synonym card), R&B, soft rock
Lifeguard (interrupting me): yeah yeah, I think I want smooth rap, and smooth R&B
*** As an aside, I still have no clue what the smooth part of that equation really means, but I rolled with it***
Me: Oh no doubt. Smooth right?
Lifeguard: Yes yes, something very smooth
Me: I got you man, I'll bring it on Thursday.
So the question I now have, how the f**k do you make a mixtape for a 40-45 year old dude? I mean seriously..
Sunday, July 17, 2011
My main man Neil has his own graphic design firm, and you can take a look at it right here.. Neil (aka sixfive) has been reading my blog since the beginning, and he's a cool dude.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
First off, let me say this picture was taken by my main man Kyle in February of last year--my friend Amy taught me the importance of giving photo credits. Secondly, this is one of my favorite pre-Wizards game pictures. It isn't just because it perfectly captures the madness around pre-game press conferences, and it isn't because I'm starved for anything basketball-related during this NBA lockout. The main reason I like this picture is that I am standing next to one of my favorite writers, Michael Wilbon. His big yellow head is in the bottom left hand corner of the screen, and my smaller head is to his left. We briefly talked before and after this picture was taken, and I'm always taken aback at hoq humble and helpful he is every time I see him, despite his fame. I want to be like when and if I get famous..or infamous, I'll take either one.
Thank you for listening. Oh and if you haven't read Toure's article on Dave Chappelle, go read it by clicking right here.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
There's this United Colors of Benetton store that is a little more than a block away from my house, that has been broken into twice this month. The first time was about two weeks ago, and the most recent time must have happened this morning. I was returning from the pool when I saw one of the female employees sweeping up the glass that was strewn all over the sidewalk. I removed my headphones and walked up to this woman and said, "Damn again?", and she just shook her head and said, "Yeah this is pretty f**king unbelievable.".
Now, the retort I SHOULD have come out of my mouth with was, "I'm really sorry, good luck to you all" or something to that effect, but I suppose that would have been too much like right. Instead, as I walked away and put my headphones on, I decided to say, "You all must have some really good stuff in that store." The woman shot me a look that said, "You're a real class act buddy", and I knew immediately that was the wrong thing to say, but my headphones were already on, and it would have been awkward for me to go back to her and undo my stupidity. I felt bad that I didn't put my need to smooth over an awkward/weird moment with humor and just have a bit of compassion. Then I wondered how sincere I really felt, because I made ZERO effort to apologize..or maybe I'm over thinking..
One more thing...about a month ago I went to a cookout at my main man Greg's house, and instead of bringing the traditional beer or liquor over, I decided to bring a nice Port. It wasn't one of those bottles that is over $100, but it was a decent bottle, and I chose that because a)I wanted to drink it and b)I thought I would get props (or at least an ego-boosting compliment) for doing something different (like I did last year at this fight party, when I brought a Chikfila platter--no such luck this year).
Anyway, because I had to drive home from the cookout, and Port tends to be a bit strong, I drank very little of it--unfortunately the same could be said for everyone else in attendance at this cookout. The wife and I stayed at the party almost 2 hours, and there were at least 40 people there, and nobody helped themselves to my Port. I saw folks pick the bottle up and put it back down, but nobody had the chutzpah to try it, and it pissed me off (not once did it dawn on me that no one likes Port or it didn't fit at a cookout). Of course I asked the wife if I could take the bottle back home when we left, but she shot it down quickly. But is that really so wrong to take my gift back if no one seems to be feeling it?
Personally, if someone brought something over to my house that I didn't take a shine to, I would give the person the option of taking it back from whence it came. It is the equivalent of letting someone out of a contract with no hard feelings. "I didn't like your stinking Port, so please take it home, because I know you like it anyway.." If I'm good enough to get an invite to your party or vice versa, we should be able to be honest about the gifts, beverages, food, etc..That's the kind of world I want. I don't have the heart to ask Greg whatever happened to that bottle I brought, but it has been on my mind for a month now..
Now, the retort I SHOULD have come out of my mouth with was, "I'm really sorry, good luck to you all" or something to that effect, but I suppose that would have been too much like right. Instead, as I walked away and put my headphones on, I decided to say, "You all must have some really good stuff in that store." The woman shot me a look that said, "You're a real class act buddy", and I knew immediately that was the wrong thing to say, but my headphones were already on, and it would have been awkward for me to go back to her and undo my stupidity. I felt bad that I didn't put my need to smooth over an awkward/weird moment with humor and just have a bit of compassion. Then I wondered how sincere I really felt, because I made ZERO effort to apologize..or maybe I'm over thinking..
One more thing...about a month ago I went to a cookout at my main man Greg's house, and instead of bringing the traditional beer or liquor over, I decided to bring a nice Port. It wasn't one of those bottles that is over $100, but it was a decent bottle, and I chose that because a)I wanted to drink it and b)I thought I would get props (or at least an ego-boosting compliment) for doing something different (like I did last year at this fight party, when I brought a Chikfila platter--no such luck this year).
Anyway, because I had to drive home from the cookout, and Port tends to be a bit strong, I drank very little of it--unfortunately the same could be said for everyone else in attendance at this cookout. The wife and I stayed at the party almost 2 hours, and there were at least 40 people there, and nobody helped themselves to my Port. I saw folks pick the bottle up and put it back down, but nobody had the chutzpah to try it, and it pissed me off (not once did it dawn on me that no one likes Port or it didn't fit at a cookout). Of course I asked the wife if I could take the bottle back home when we left, but she shot it down quickly. But is that really so wrong to take my gift back if no one seems to be feeling it?
Personally, if someone brought something over to my house that I didn't take a shine to, I would give the person the option of taking it back from whence it came. It is the equivalent of letting someone out of a contract with no hard feelings. "I didn't like your stinking Port, so please take it home, because I know you like it anyway.." If I'm good enough to get an invite to your party or vice versa, we should be able to be honest about the gifts, beverages, food, etc..That's the kind of world I want. I don't have the heart to ask Greg whatever happened to that bottle I brought, but it has been on my mind for a month now..
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
About five minutes ago I read this interview with Phife Dawg of A Tribe Called Quest and Michael Rapaport, who is director of the documentary, "Beats, Rhymes and Life". The movie is finding its way around this fine country of ours, and I will be going to see it this weekend, but in the meantime, I have to whet my appetite by listening to old music and reading interviews like the one I linked above.
However, one of Phife's answers in regards to whether A Tribe Called Quest would ever get back together and record annoyed me:
The fans might want it like that, but they have to understand that we can’t just get together as far as recording is concerned and put out anything. It has to be correct and right because the consensus will be that, ‘We waited 13 years and all you came up with is this crap.’ I’d rather not do it and have people say we tarnished the legacy. So I’m happy the way things are right now; people still love us and hopefully if we do decide to do an album it will be one we can be proud of.
I literally said "what the f**k?" out loud when I read that quote, and it reminded me of the kind of talk I heard when Michael Jordan said he was coming out of retirement in 2001. Back in 1998, he had done this to win his six consecutive championship:
NBA writers, other players and fans thought that shot was the ideal way to end his career, and no matter what he tried to do from there, he could not top that. Some people even went as far as to say, that if he did ever come back, he would not be the same MJ everyone knew and loved, and the greatness he had spent 14 years establishing would disappear. Michael basically gave them the middle finger and said, I'm going to continue to play until my health gives out and they have to drag me off the court.
MJ came back, and had flashes of his former brilliant self, but he also had plenty of embarrassing moments that the old MJ would never allow to happen, like missing wide open dunks. Two years later he retired, a few years after that he made the Hall of Fame, and today, he is still regarded as one of the best players in NBA history--and more importantly his legacy has gone unscathed.
So what the hell is A Tribe Called Quest's problem? Every album (yeah I'm dating myself by calling them albums) can't be "Low End Theory" or "Midnight Marauders", but your fans don't expect that anyway. Your fans want to hear you all together touring and rapping again, and they know that you all would not put out anything that was terrible (although some people who bought their last two offerings may disagree). And what is so hard about making good music that both you and your fans enjoy? If you tell me your heart isn't in rapping anymore that's one thing, but to say you don't want to make a cd after 13 years because of how your legacy it might be tarnished? That pisses me off..
My dad has been a Temptations fan for over 40 years, and he will tell you that in that span, they have put out some classics and they have put out some crap. There were some albums he played front to back with ease, and there were others that contained two good songs, and the rest were garbage--but he always bought their albums. Even today in 2011, when all but one of the original members are dead and gone, my dad STILL buys Temptations albums, and I asked him why, and he says, "I'm a fan for life, through the good and bad". That's how I feel about Tribe..so man up and make me a goddamn cd.
And now switching gears totally, here is a beautiful song by Minnie Riperton and the Rotary Connection called, "We're Going Wrong". I didn't even know this was on my iPod until yesterday morning, and now I'm hooked.
However, one of Phife's answers in regards to whether A Tribe Called Quest would ever get back together and record annoyed me:
The fans might want it like that, but they have to understand that we can’t just get together as far as recording is concerned and put out anything. It has to be correct and right because the consensus will be that, ‘We waited 13 years and all you came up with is this crap.’ I’d rather not do it and have people say we tarnished the legacy. So I’m happy the way things are right now; people still love us and hopefully if we do decide to do an album it will be one we can be proud of.
I literally said "what the f**k?" out loud when I read that quote, and it reminded me of the kind of talk I heard when Michael Jordan said he was coming out of retirement in 2001. Back in 1998, he had done this to win his six consecutive championship:
NBA writers, other players and fans thought that shot was the ideal way to end his career, and no matter what he tried to do from there, he could not top that. Some people even went as far as to say, that if he did ever come back, he would not be the same MJ everyone knew and loved, and the greatness he had spent 14 years establishing would disappear. Michael basically gave them the middle finger and said, I'm going to continue to play until my health gives out and they have to drag me off the court.
MJ came back, and had flashes of his former brilliant self, but he also had plenty of embarrassing moments that the old MJ would never allow to happen, like missing wide open dunks. Two years later he retired, a few years after that he made the Hall of Fame, and today, he is still regarded as one of the best players in NBA history--and more importantly his legacy has gone unscathed.
So what the hell is A Tribe Called Quest's problem? Every album (yeah I'm dating myself by calling them albums) can't be "Low End Theory" or "Midnight Marauders", but your fans don't expect that anyway. Your fans want to hear you all together touring and rapping again, and they know that you all would not put out anything that was terrible (although some people who bought their last two offerings may disagree). And what is so hard about making good music that both you and your fans enjoy? If you tell me your heart isn't in rapping anymore that's one thing, but to say you don't want to make a cd after 13 years because of how your legacy it might be tarnished? That pisses me off..
My dad has been a Temptations fan for over 40 years, and he will tell you that in that span, they have put out some classics and they have put out some crap. There were some albums he played front to back with ease, and there were others that contained two good songs, and the rest were garbage--but he always bought their albums. Even today in 2011, when all but one of the original members are dead and gone, my dad STILL buys Temptations albums, and I asked him why, and he says, "I'm a fan for life, through the good and bad". That's how I feel about Tribe..so man up and make me a goddamn cd.
And now switching gears totally, here is a beautiful song by Minnie Riperton and the Rotary Connection called, "We're Going Wrong". I didn't even know this was on my iPod until yesterday morning, and now I'm hooked.
Monday, July 11, 2011
My fellow blogger-in-crime Brokey McPoverty had this hilarious entry today, which you can read right here
My son has at least 5 books that are on his 9th grade reading list this summer, and the first (and easiest I might add) one we are going to tackle is "Call of the Wild" by Jack London. I don't remember what grade I was in when I originally read the book, and I damn sure don't remember any important details about the plot, but I do remember my father buying it for me some time in the 80s--which means I am absolutely no help to my son in terms of recalling details.
So I gave my son a writing assignment based on the first 50 pages he's read that is due on Wednesday, and I realized that I had to be a bit more hands on than just reading his work. I have decided to put aside the three other books I'm trying to read right now, and tackle "Call of the Wild" all over again. This left me with an interesting, but minor dilemma. In order to obtain the book I could:
1)Buy the book (which I realistically would only do at a used bookstore, because after I read it again, I really have no desire to keep it around).
2) Go to the library and check it out (not only do I not have a valid library card, but I have not set foot in a library since January 9, 2007. How do I know remember the date? I wrote a blog entry from the library that day, and in that entry I made the ill-advised decision to split up with the girl I was dating to go back to my ex, who I ended up leaving a couple of months later. It was just one of the many examples of the dumb things I did before I got married. But the bigger point is, the library and I aren't compatible--which is kind of sad
3)Read the book online (I've never read a book via google books or anything else, because I think books are sacred and should be bought, not read on Kindle, an iPad, or listened to while driving..)
Any suggestions here? And yes I'm making this more difficult than it has to be, but a decision has to be made before Wednesday, when my son sends me his assignment.
So I gave my son a writing assignment based on the first 50 pages he's read that is due on Wednesday, and I realized that I had to be a bit more hands on than just reading his work. I have decided to put aside the three other books I'm trying to read right now, and tackle "Call of the Wild" all over again. This left me with an interesting, but minor dilemma. In order to obtain the book I could:
1)Buy the book (which I realistically would only do at a used bookstore, because after I read it again, I really have no desire to keep it around).
2) Go to the library and check it out (not only do I not have a valid library card, but I have not set foot in a library since January 9, 2007. How do I know remember the date? I wrote a blog entry from the library that day, and in that entry I made the ill-advised decision to split up with the girl I was dating to go back to my ex, who I ended up leaving a couple of months later. It was just one of the many examples of the dumb things I did before I got married. But the bigger point is, the library and I aren't compatible--which is kind of sad
3)Read the book online (I've never read a book via google books or anything else, because I think books are sacred and should be bought, not read on Kindle, an iPad, or listened to while driving..)
Any suggestions here? And yes I'm making this more difficult than it has to be, but a decision has to be made before Wednesday, when my son sends me his assignment.
Friday, July 08, 2011
Thursday, July 07, 2011
Background: One of my co-workers (Sam) is leaving early, so she's training everyone to do what she does until we find a replacement. My training was today, and my co-worker Jordan has a training tomorrow.
The Conversation
Sam: So I'm training you today right?
Me: Yes
Sam: That's right, you're today, and Jordan is tomorrow. I wish I could do both of you at the same time
Me: That's what she said
It never gets old (to me at least).
The Conversation
Sam: So I'm training you today right?
Me: Yes
Sam: That's right, you're today, and Jordan is tomorrow. I wish I could do both of you at the same time
Me: That's what she said
It never gets old (to me at least).
As I sit here and write this blog entry it is 5:35am, and I have been up since 3:45am, after going to bed at 11:30. I had every intention of going to bed early (yes 11:30 is early for me), so that I could wake up at 5:30 and head to the pool for a workout, but now that isn't happening. If I were to go workout after such a paltry night of sleep, I would be struggling to stay awake at work, and that's no good given the day I have ahead. Since 3:45, my wife has awakened two times, and then immediately gone back to sleep, yet I've had no such luck. I really and truly wish I had that talent, but I do not. She can kiss my ass.
Also, don't you hate when someone goes out of their way to point out something you did wrong, wait for your reaction to what they said, and THEN tell you that it's no big deal? I don't know what kind of world you live in, but in my world, when something is no big deal, I don't bring it to the person who has irritated me. I just choose the passive aggressive route, and I blog about it like (ir)regular people do. But to bring something up so just you can get a reaction, and then say, "It's no big deal, it's cool", is about as irritating as it gets. Just shut up and let it eat at you internally, or come out and make a really big deal about it so the other person feels guilty. Don't just bring it up, and then back down..
This is the type of cranky blogging a skimpy night of sleep produces..
Also, don't you hate when someone goes out of their way to point out something you did wrong, wait for your reaction to what they said, and THEN tell you that it's no big deal? I don't know what kind of world you live in, but in my world, when something is no big deal, I don't bring it to the person who has irritated me. I just choose the passive aggressive route, and I blog about it like (ir)regular people do. But to bring something up so just you can get a reaction, and then say, "It's no big deal, it's cool", is about as irritating as it gets. Just shut up and let it eat at you internally, or come out and make a really big deal about it so the other person feels guilty. Don't just bring it up, and then back down..
This is the type of cranky blogging a skimpy night of sleep produces..
Tuesday, July 05, 2011
So this morning I was in the shower listening to sports talk radio, when I heard a commercial for an establishment called, "SportClips". If you have already heard of this place, I apologize to you, because this morning was my first time knowing this existed. It is basically a sports bar, where you can also get your hair cut, your beard trimmed, and maybe even a shampoo. I sat there thinking to myself, "Damn that's a good idea", and I couldn't wait to get online to look this place up on the internets.
It's not like I am terribly unhappy with my current barbershop arrangements, but I do think some changes can be made. My barbers claim to be sports fans, but the only time I saw sports on the TWO flat screens is during the Men's World Cup last year. Other than that, the TVs are off, and there is reggae music blaring through the speakers, whether it is 8am or 7pm. Now, I love reggae music and all, but I love sports more, and what is the point of having TWO flat screens if their only function is to collect dust? I don't get it.
So I looked up this SportClips place, and I noticed that the closest location is in Waldorf, MD, which is about 20-30 minutes away from me. Considering my current barber is a five minute walk from my house, that's just too big of an adjustment for me to make. But what troubled me about this SportClips place, was that I saw NO ONE who looked like me on the ads. I just saw lots and lots of white men, but no brothers, and that was a bit discouraging. I know in a perfect world anyone could cut any one's hair, but the truth is that does not happen. When I was younger, I walked into many a barbershop with no black barbers, and I've heard the "Well I've never really cut a black guy's hair" speech before, and that was cool. Only half of the black barbers in my current shop feel comfortable cutting white people's hair. It isn't racist, it is just about comfort. That's how these things go..
But SportClips is a damn good idea, and there are locations all over this fine country of ours, and their ads are telling me that my kind cannot be accomodated--I dont know if that's true or not, but the ads hint at it strongly. So now, in order to prove myself right or wrong, I have to 1)ask someone who looks like me if they've been there or 2) call SportClips and have that awkward, do-you-cut-black-hair conversation. I think that's a risk worth taking though..
Finally I would like to send a shout out to my kindergarten-bound nephew Nazir, who graduated from pre-school last week. The picture you see below says, "I'm Nazir, I'm a graduate, and I'm important!"
It's not like I am terribly unhappy with my current barbershop arrangements, but I do think some changes can be made. My barbers claim to be sports fans, but the only time I saw sports on the TWO flat screens is during the Men's World Cup last year. Other than that, the TVs are off, and there is reggae music blaring through the speakers, whether it is 8am or 7pm. Now, I love reggae music and all, but I love sports more, and what is the point of having TWO flat screens if their only function is to collect dust? I don't get it.
So I looked up this SportClips place, and I noticed that the closest location is in Waldorf, MD, which is about 20-30 minutes away from me. Considering my current barber is a five minute walk from my house, that's just too big of an adjustment for me to make. But what troubled me about this SportClips place, was that I saw NO ONE who looked like me on the ads. I just saw lots and lots of white men, but no brothers, and that was a bit discouraging. I know in a perfect world anyone could cut any one's hair, but the truth is that does not happen. When I was younger, I walked into many a barbershop with no black barbers, and I've heard the "Well I've never really cut a black guy's hair" speech before, and that was cool. Only half of the black barbers in my current shop feel comfortable cutting white people's hair. It isn't racist, it is just about comfort. That's how these things go..
But SportClips is a damn good idea, and there are locations all over this fine country of ours, and their ads are telling me that my kind cannot be accomodated--I dont know if that's true or not, but the ads hint at it strongly. So now, in order to prove myself right or wrong, I have to 1)ask someone who looks like me if they've been there or 2) call SportClips and have that awkward, do-you-cut-black-hair conversation. I think that's a risk worth taking though..
Finally I would like to send a shout out to my kindergarten-bound nephew Nazir, who graduated from pre-school last week. The picture you see below says, "I'm Nazir, I'm a graduate, and I'm important!"
Friday, July 01, 2011
Last Wednesday I went to see Rakim and the Roots at the Blue Note in NYC. Talib Kweli showed up, the annoying Toure' did interviews, and Mr. Dave Chappelle was in the audience (I also ran into him in the bathroom..and it way less suspect than it sounds). It was a great show, a great night, and it was worth the trip. I took a picture of the set list, but it sucked, but my friend Janelle took a GREAT pic of it, and here it is:
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