I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am with the past 28 hours of my life, but I will certainly attempt to do just that, starting with yesterday

3pm: My brother, his wife, and my nephew show up at my place. I had just seen them less than a month ago at Thanksgiving dinner, but it was STILL good seeing everyone. I got a chance to introduce my ladyfriend to my brother, his wife, and of course my nephew, Nazir. Young Nas wasn't really all that friendly with my ladyfriend, but every now and then he would flash a smile or some playfulness. The one time I tried to pick up Nazir and show his some love, he cried like someone had given him a shot. Of course when his mother or father would pick him up, then he'd smile at me from afar. One day he'll warm up to me.

5pm: My mother arrives at my apartment with my son who she picked in Hampton on her way up from North Carolina. My son was sporting an mini afro that reminded of the blowout fro era of 1993, but he still is a light-skinned spitting image of me. My mother was stressed because of the drive, but clearly she was elated at the prospect of her two sons and her two grandsons being together for the very first time. We took pictures, and we laughed and joked a bit, and then we were off to the Miami Heat/Washington Wizards game..

6pm: ..but before we went to the basketball game, we absolutely had to stop off at the barber shop, because there was no way in hell Carlton was rolling with me looking uneven and all that. We looked for three different barbershops, until we found one, and I quickly explained to the barber that the Wizards/Heat started at 7pm, and I needed him to hurry up, but to still give my son a fresh haircut. He did it in 15 minutes and I tipped him handsomely

7pm: My son and I arrived at the basketball game, sitting just 8 seats from the floor. Shaquille O'Neal did not play due to injury, but Dwyane Waaaaaaaaaade was in the house, and my son went crazy every time he touched the basketball. Unfortunately, Wade didn't play most of the second half due to injury, but Carlton and I still had a ball at the game.

10pm: We took the 45 minute trip up to Baltimore, to watch the last bit of the Patriots quest to go undefeated at my dad's house. We all sat there, dead tired, and watched the Pats defeat the Giants to go undefeated, and I told my son that he was looking at sports history, and one day he should tell his kid(s) that he saw this. Of course it went over his head..

Sunday, Dec 30th
7:30am: Carlton wakes up my father and I, in a quest to find water. I wanted to be angry at the little man for being so spry, so early, but considering how little I actually get to see him, I hooked up him up with a tasty beverage. Shortly thereafter, my father whipped up a breakfast of champions that consisted of a bowl of oatmeal with honey and raisins. 20 minutes later, my son went back to sleep, and I was fighting to stay awake.

**By the way, the whole time my son was here he had this damn Rubix cube in his hand, and he was determined to solve that mystery. He even had a cheat sheet in his pocket, but that didn't seem to help him out. I admired his determination, but I was getting pissed that he still hadn't solved it. That Rubix cube has been stumping folks for 30 years plus**

12pm: My brother, sister-in-law and nephew arrive at my dad's house. At one point, I saw my son and nephew "talking" to one another. Carlton was lying on the floor and Nazir was standing up, and they were talking back and forth. I took a million pictures this weekend, and missed that one. Shame on me.

1pm: We all take pictures for the first time. You should have seen the proud Grandpa look my father had..I can't think of more rewarding feeling as my father's son, than to see him play with Carlton and Nazir, and watch him beaming with pride and joy. Yet another photograph I didn't really capture.

1:05pm: My son and I basically ignore everyone else in the room and start watching football

2:30: My brother's hungry ass interrupts my son and I watching television(clearly he hadn't had the breakfast of champions), and says he wants some seafood, so we all go out to eat. (I'll spare you all the details)

5:30: Carlton and I say our goodbyes to the rest of the family, and head to the airport. My son would be taking that 45 minute flight back to Hampton, VA by himself, and I wanted to get to the airport early. When I told him that he would be flying solo earlier in the weekend, his face lit up, and he was absolutely excited. So while we were checking in, his little face was just beaming and smiling, and I was nervous in a parental way, but I got over it

6:15pm: Carlton and I sat down at the bar(yes, a bar) in the Silver Diner in the airport, and we watched his favorite team(the Washington Redskins) clinch a playoff berth. As is the case at every bar in the country, some dudes at the bar were spewing out incorrect info about football, and my son corrected them in every instance, and I was laughing on the inside. We weren't even supposed to be at the bar, but there were no empty seats anywhere else, and I persuaded the bartender to let him there anyway. And here my son was, basically telling all of these grown ass people that they were dead wrong with their facts. I'm sure it was illegal for him to be at the bar, but oh well. My son and I watch football the same..minimal talking until commerical time, and then we talk for 60 seconds, then back to football.

7:45pm: My son and I take that long walk to the gate..we hug, we kiss, I bombard him with emergency numbers and contingency plans in case his stepfather isn't in Hampton to pick him up at the airport, and I watch the flight attendant escort him down the ramp to the plane.

7:47pm: I go to empty gate in the airport and cry like a baby for about 15 minutes. I didn't even feel it coming, I just thought of my son and lost it. I don't care how many times I've dropped my son off after a visit, it is NEVER natural for a son and father to separate. I deal with it every time, but its hard man, but it was a good, necessary cry.

I'm leaving out things I know, but I cant cover everything. The point is, in the past 29 hours or so, I have hugged, kissed, photographed, and spent time with the people who I love and care about most, and I cannot think of a more fitting way for me to end my year. Everyone should be so lucky...

Today will be one of those days that absolutely wears me out, but when I look back on it, I am quite sure I will have nothing but fond memories. My mother is coming up from North Carolina to see me, and on her way up here she will be picking up my son. My brother, his wife, and my nephew will also be making their way up here from Atlanta, and when everyone arrives, we will probably go out to eat and hang out in this relatively nice winter weather we are enjoying. Then, tonight, my son and I will be heading downtown to a basketball game to watch Shaquille O'Neal, Dwyane Wade and the Miami Heat take on the Washington Wizards. This will be highlight of the entire weekend for me, because as of right now, he has no idea we are going. In fact, I'm not even going to tell him until the last minute, just to see his face light up. Although, given that he is MY son, his joy will probably manifest itself an understated fashion. Either way, I am excited as hell about all this. Stay tuned...tomorrow involves pictures and hanging with my dad.

*I would also like to take this time to say that had my parents worked their shit out, and not got divorced, I could go to one place..instead, I have to travel all over the DC metro area to please everyone. They will never live this down*

Family - Roy Hargrove featuring Renee Neufville

I like to use the expression "taking one for the team" a lot and it has versatile meanings. In sports, it means that instead of Kobe Bryant scoring 50 points every night, he'll only score 20 points, while dishing out 11 assists and helping his teammates play better to get a win for the team. In a relationship, it means that the man will go see the movie "Hairspray" despite the fact that the movie is utterly ghey, because it is very important to "her". When you are with your boys, it means talking and hollering at the pretty girl's ugly ass friend, because your boy is actually trying to holler at the pretty girl. But yesterday in Pakistan, we saw two versions of taking one for the team, that involved death and sacrifice.

Benazir Bhutto came out of eight years of exile, and she was in the midst of pre-election rally when she was killed. She was well aware of the risk she was taking by not only coming out of exile, but being highly critical of Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf. She was on numerous news outlets over the past few months, and she spoke very openly about the risks she took everyday, but she felt it was absolutely necessary for her to continue her mission, and in the end, she paid the ultimate price, and took one of the team. On the flip side, the suicide bomber who killed her, probably felt equally as passionate about his displeasure for Bhutto. I am speculating here, but this person was probably part of a much bigger anti-Bhutto movement, and someone probably convinced this person that they would be doing the world and more specifically Pakistan, a big favor by taking out not just her, but some of her supporters out as well. In the end, this person took his life, killed Bhutto, killed at least 30 other folks and injured countless other..and ultimately this person took one for the team as well. Some would view that act as cowardly and selfish, other would view it as heroic, and honestly I don't know what side I fall on right now, and I am resisting the knee-jerk reaction here, and giving it some real thought. But overall its sad that death had to be on the other end of both sacrifices.

As an aspiring/established/struggling writer, it is with great fascination that I watch this writer's strike. The television executives feel like the writers are overplaying their hand a bit by asking for more money and a more compensation. The writers feel like they definitely deserve more money, especially given the recent boom in DVD, animation, reality shows and most importantly the work of theirs that is distributed over the Internet. This is an interesting standoff, because I am quite sure the networks feel like they can survive longer with reruns and non-written reality shows, and the writers feel like that during the holidays this is fine, but eventually the viewing public will get restless. Me? I'm a sports fan, and none of the major sports are going to be striking any time soon, so I'll be fine, but still, I feel for the writers. So why do I mention all this?

Starting the first week of January, talk show hosts, David Letterman, Conan O'Brien, Jay Leno and Jimmy Kimmel will all go back on the air. It is my understanding that they cannot use writers, so they will have to basically do impromptu shows similar to the way Regis and Kelly do every morning, except none of the late night shows have the benefit of playing off a co-host. This is quite an interesting standoff to me, because in the case of David Letterman, he actually paid the salaries of some of the striking writers in an effort to show solidarity; as a result, the writers cannot get TOO mad that he and others are going back to work. After all, aside from the writers, there are other workers on the set of these shows(camera people, makeup artists, lighting specialists) who have NOT been getting paid, and they are caught in the middle of this mess. And I am quite sure Letterman, Leno and the gang want their shows to be funny enough to get folks to watch, but not funny enough to alienate the writers. I plan on watching these shows next week, just to see who is REALLY funny, and who has been riding on the coattails of the writers all these years.

By the way, I traded emails with the only writer in Hollywood I know, Ms. Angela Nissel, and she said that the writers aren't at all worried about Letterman and company "selling out" so to speak. She said all one needs to do, is to dig up shows from 1988, when there was a strike, and Letterman did a show solo. I never saw those shows, but apparently they were hot garbage.

I know this entire entry feels like an inside joke that you may not get, but this situation is quite fascinating to me. I have yet to have the "luxury" of being part of a union, so I don't know what it is to strike for a worthy cause. I also haven' been a position of real power, so I don't know what its like to fuck over striking workers either. So I am vicariously living through both sides, but quietly rooting for the writers. .

Chaka Khan - One For All Time
I've had Chaka's new cd on my ipod for almost 2 months now, and I just heard this song for the first time this morning. Now I can't get it out of my head.

I had two interesting moments during my Christmas of 2007 yesterday. One was kind of sad, the other one was pretty funny, to me at least. I'll start with the sad one.

After I left my father's house last night, I unexpectedly decided to take a drive by my old apartment building. I wrestled with the decision a little bit, and then I decided to do it. I pulled up to the parking space behind the building, and I walked through the gate, and looked at the back of the apartment. The back windows were brand new, there was no evidence of any smoke damage, and it looked pretty damn good. Then I walked around to the front of the building, and I noticed that all of those windows had also been replaced, the doors has been painted, and out front I even recognized one of the young girls I used to see around there. She was running her mouth on the phone, completely oblivious to my presence. And then I went back and sat in the car, to drive toward my current home, and I quietly closed that chapter of my life. That's not to say that I won't be vividly thinking about the fire and its effects from time to time, but everyday that goes by I get a bit more closure(and as corny as that may sound its really true). I woke up at 5:54 this morning(its 6:15 now) and forwarded all 15 pictures of my burned apartment to my brother. For legal purposes I am not going to delete them, but I didn't want access to them anymore, because its just not healthy..not to me at least. Ok, on to the good stuff.

About 20 minutes after I arrived at my dad's house yesterday, I expressed my hunger to him, and he said he'd whip us up a salmon salad. I sat down in the living room watching basketball, reading the paper, and talking to him while he cooked. He meticulously cut up the cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, lettuce, etc, and I felt bad and asked if he wanted my help, but he politely told me to sit my ass down(of course he didn't curse, but that's how I took it). He then went downstairs in the basement, where the big screen tv is, and said we would be eating down there, and then he came back up and told me I could make my plate. First I put the salad on my plate, and then as I headed towards the salmon, my father said to me, there are two pieces there, just take the one you want. Now when he said that, I fully expected there to be two EQUALLY sized pieces of salmon in that dish, but of course that would be way too easy. One of the pieces of salmon was clearly bigger than the other, and instantly I knew I had been set up like Marion Barry. I looked back at my father, he wasn't even paying attention to me, he was just preparing his salad. So I looked back at the unevenly yoked pieces of salmon, and I had two choices: I could take the bigger piece of salmon, and basically disrespect this man in his own house, even though it would feel good to take a stand. OR I could play my position as the guest and the son, and take the smaller piece, and possibly eat it slow to make it feel like the bigger piece, thereby keeping the peace in the house.

I took the smaller piece. And on top of that, I finished my salad first, and I looked over at him, and he was still enjoying that big piece.

Sucka Nigga - A Tribe Called Quest
I think this is the first time I typed the "N" word in the blog. If it offends you, get over it, the song was too good of a fit today to pass up.

I think my favorite Christmas present won't officially arrive until Saturday, when my son, my brother, my nephew and my father will go get official pictures taken. I must admit when my father first told me about it, my first thought was man that is corny. But when I heard how excited my father was about the concept, I started thinking about what the picture would represent, and I must admit I got stoked myself. The last time we took pictures like this was back in '99, when Carlton was barely two, my nephew wasn't around, Jamal had no facial hair, my father had more overall hair, and I was clinging to a mustache. It was hot that day, my son was not being cooperative at all, and everyone pretty much wanted out of there. But the pics came out much nicer, than we all expected, and to this day, my father still has them in his living room. This year will be much more special, because everyone is older. Carlton is now 10 years old and turning into a mini-Rashad; Nazir is just over a year old, and discovering all the joys of walking and pulling up; Jamal is married and a father, and although that facial hair still isn't coming together quite yet, he has definitely made leaps and bounds in the maturity department. My father is pushing 60, but he's way more of a friend to both my brother and I, than he was back in '99, and I hope my son and my nephew get to see that side of him..rather than the evil parental side my brother had to endure. And me? I definitely feel like a better Rashad(i can use the third person on Christmas cant I?) now that this beard and my ladyfriend have come into my life. Ideally my mother would be a part of the picture, but that ship sailed 15 years ago. So for now, I will look forward to celebrating Christmas on Sunday. Today? It's all about basketball baby

My Favorite Things(live) - John Coltrane

I think I'm the only person who does NOT know the words to this damn song. I heard John Coltrane's version for the first time when I was like 11, and it wasn't until I was in my early 20s, that I realized that this song was featured in the Sound of Music. Not only will I take Coltrane's version over anyone who has recorded the song, but I'll take this live version over any other version Coltrane himself recorded. Someone asked me the other day what my favorite song was, and I mistakenly said Marvin's I Want You. It is definitely this Coltrane song, which so happens to double as a Christmas song as well. Enjoy.

I realized that at the ripe old age of 32, the only good thing about this Christmas holiday is spending time with family and getting off of work. The allure of the gift aspect of this holiday faded at age 16, although during my 20s, I always expected large sums of money which never came. Once I hit about 26, I realized that the dream was over, and I had to readjust my expectations. So, I hit the streets today, armed with that wonderful sentiment, and I did some Christmas shopping for my father. My father is the easiest man to shop for, because he has extremely low expectations for me, so anything I do is icing on the cake. He told me he wanted a Porsche, but he and I both know that's not happening. I told him that the only thing I would want would be tickets to a sporting event, but I don't expect him to give me that either. That being said, I did his shopping in about an hour and a half. I won't say what I bought him in case he reads, or in case my brother tries to steal my idea.

Other observations on this fine Christmas Eve:

-You know your day is going to be good, when I one-eyed cab driver winks at you with his good eye.

-I am ashamed to admit this, but I watched my first bootleg movie ever via youtube, and I can report that I Am Legend is an average movie. I promise to never do this again, and I also promise to read the book. Will, if you're reading, please forgive me..I'll buy DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince's Greatest Hits if you'd like.

-If I had more money, I would round up all of the homeless people I could find, find a hotel ballroom, and feed them dinner. Then I would interview each one of them, get their story and their contact information, and send them on their way. If I could help them find a job, I would reconnect with them, if not, I would at least give them the proceeds from the book I wrote about them based on their stories. Come to think of it, I could probably do this with just two or three homeless folks..

that's all for now

In A Sentimental Mood - Ledisi

So this morning I wake up watching sports as usual, and I get to the portion of the telecast when they talk about women's basketball, in particular Tennessee. I have always followed women's college basketball, ever since Cheryl Miller was dominant, not only because I am fanatic, but because women's basketball is every bit as intense of the men's game. I mean sure they cannot dunk and they aren't quite as athletic, but I still enjoy it. Plus every now and then, the women's game will have a player who is attractive and good like Tennessee senior, Candace Parker.

Anyway, when I watch the crowds for both college and professional women's game, I notice that they don't get a lot of support. College women's games are a little different, because students with school spirit will go to any athletic event. But in the WNBA, the audience consists of lesbian women and fathers taking their young daughters to the game. There are a few exceptions of course, but for the most part that's how it is. The non-sports fanatic men I speak to, say they don't watch the women's game because it is boring, the brand of basketball is substandard to the men's game, and of course for the most part, the women don't make the spectacular plays that the men do. Plus they accuse the women of looking too handsome, and at times I can agree. The women I know, don't watch because its more fun looking at men then it is women. But i'm curious as to why women don't support other women in that regard the way the men support and carry the NBA.

So why don't YOU watch women's basketball?

Yesterday morning when I woke up, I neglected to put any underwear on my ass. I frequently do this on days when I have to wear jeans, and I usually think nothing of it. I knew I was going to the doctor's office, but I didn't think removal of my pants would be necessary. After all, I had gotten a chest xray a couple of weeks back, and I was able to remain fully clothed. So imagine how incredulous I was when the nurse asked me to remove my pants, put on the hospital gown, and then come to the xray room. I did exactly what she instructed me to do, and then I called her outside the xray room and had the following conversation:

Me: Um, this is kind of awkward, but..
Her: I'm a nurse, nothing is awkward
Me: Well I don't have any underwear on
Her: Well go put it back on
Me: No, I didn't wear anyway, its just jeans for me
Her: Oh..
Me: Is that going to a pose a problem?
Her: No I'll just work around "it"

Let me also add at this point, that the nurse was very unattractive. Anyway, while getting my back xray, she put me in all kinds of wear and awkward positions and I managed to keep my package out of harm's way, and it was all good. I get the results on Monday, and they are LONG overdue. I had a medical scare later on that night, and resulted in me spending 5 hours in an emergency room, only to not be seen. I am fine now, but my back is still jacked, so hopefully this x ray result will find something. I just thought it would be cool to tell that light-hearted story.

Vanessa Marquez/Justin Timberlake - I Want You To Know

On my way to the train this morning, I was walking behind a couple that seemed to be in love. They were walking hella slow, they were holding hands, and they seemed to be swinging their held hands back and forth. A couple times they would stop and kiss each other twice, then they would keep on walking, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was behind them desperately trying to get by. I can honestly admit I was both jealous and angry at the same time. I admire couples who can totally lose themselves in love and lust while in public, and if I am totally honest with myself, I can say that even I have done this before with my ladyfriend. However, I have NEVER done that with my lady at 7 in the damn morning on the way to work. Who the hell is that much in love so early in the morning, and where is the sense of urgency to get to work?

Speaking of the ladyfriend, today she goes away to see her family for an entire week, leaving me behind. This is a yearly ritual for her, and we mutually decided that this would be the last holiday we spend apart. But, since we've been together, I have not gone longer than 3 days without seeing her face, so this extended separation will be interesting. In preparation for this moment, I have alerted all strip clubs and coffee shops with a free wireless internet connection(wouldn't it be cool if I get all 3 of those things in one place?) that I will be frequenting their establishments on everyday but Christmas. On Christmas day, it will just be my father and I..exchanging gifts, talking shit, and watching basketball. By the way, for you kids at home this is the perfect example of how NOT to construct a paragraph. I started with one idea, and then I totally got away from it without bothering to start an additional paragraph. We English majors can get away with that though.

Smoke - Mary J. Blige
I've listened to Mary J's cd about 3 times, and I'd rate it about a five out of ten. But the song I have linked above seems to be my favorite.

The following conversation happened exactly 5 minutes ago:

lady: merry christmas and happy kwanzaa
me: I don't celebrate kwanzaa
**awkward silence**
lady: I'm sorry if I offended you
me: no offense taken, i barely celebrate christmas so why would i do kwanzaa (this was my attempt at giving her an out, so she could laugh then walk away)
lady: hahaha (but she didn't walk away)
me: happy hanukkah to you! (and i walked away)

Rashad wins!

and no i'm not making this up.

I was reading an article on Tiger Woods last night, when I came across the following quote:

"After my dad passed last year [Earl Woods died at age 74, after a long battle with cancer, on May 3, 2006], I played well, but I was still not really feeling all that great about life in general...I felt like I hadn't really appreciated having Dad around. I didn't talk to him as much as I should have. I didn't call him, didn't see him, wasn't there enough. It was kind of in my mind through the entire last year and even the beginning of this year that I didn't do enough...One thing I regret is that it took the fact of my dad's passing for me to appreciate how good my life was with him. I wish I had been able to realize how good it was when he was there."

As soon as I read that I thought of my own father. I worry more about my mother because she's in her mid 50s, she's in North Carolina by herself basically, and she doesn't have much companionship. I rarely worry about my dad in that way, because in my mind he's invincible, and I know he and his ladyfriend are pretty close. Sometimes I let 2 weeks go by without checking up on him, because I just assume he's ok, and since he's invincible why wouldn't he be? One time I even asked my father point blank, if something was wrong or if you were ill, would you tell me, and he said he would not because he didn't want me to worry. But even after he said that, he came right back with, "but Rashad I'm fine", and I just put the thought of anything bad happening to him right out of my head, and I went back to my every 2 weeks phone call routine. But that Tiger Woods quote made me think of my father's relationship with HIS father who died at age 50 back in 1978. One day my grandfather was there, playing with me and at that time my newborn brother, and the next day he died in his sleep, and even to this day, my father has some regret about not taking full advantage of their relationship. Now I'll admit my father and I are closer than he was with his father, but I also can honestly say that I should see him more, I should call him more, and I should push past the sports talk with him, and really make an effort to get to know him from all angles, because I don't want to be left with any regrets. And if I can do this with my mother, surely I can take that extra step to do with my father.

Jesus Children of American - Stevie Wonder

Against my wishes, my office decided to throw the 70s-style Christmas party, and it really wasn't as bad as it initially sounded. Yes some of the people did look foolish walking around in outfits tailor made for the pagan Halloween holiday as opposed to Christ's birthday, but I guess that's ok. It was nice to see ordinarily stiff people let their hair down and relax. There was an impressive spread of food, wine, beer and a drink I had never heard of called a Harvey Wallbanger. I got a couple plates of food, a couple of plastic cups of wine, and then I headed back to my desk before they got to the dessert/karaoke portion of the party. For a second, I felt bad that I left the party a full 2 hours before it was scheduled to be finished, but then I snapped to my senses. After all, I did show my face and speak to the people, but I can't be expected to do much more than that. The reality is, at the end of the day(a sports cliche'), these are my co-workers and with a few exceptions, I really don't care for them too much. Not enough to party with them anyway. Plus I'm all filled up in the friends department, so there really isnt' much to gain from an extended stay at the party.

I'm waiting for one of these baseball players who were named in the Mitchell Report to be honest and come clean. So far, all of the athletes who have admitted taking steroids or human growth hormones, all say the same thing: 1)I only took the drugs because I was injured 2)I didn't take them to get a competitive edge 3)I only did it once or twice and 4)sorry if what I did offended anyone. Basically these athletes are hoping that the public and the powers that be in baseball, are impressed that they came forward with half of the truth. The reality is these players took drugs (and more than once or twice I might add) because everyone else was doing it, and they wanted to get an edge. And there's no way in hell that they are sorry, because in some cases, the effect of these drugs played a large part in the salary increases of these players. Now can I prove this? No. But does my explanation make more sense? I think so. And to those people who read my blog and skim the sports stuff, you shouldn't skim this. One day your kid may want to do steroids, and you will look back on the info I shared in this blog, and be glad I gave you this PSA.

Shooting Stars - Kelis
Honestly? This song really sucks. It was on Kelis' Wanderland cd(produced by the Neptunes) that came out in 2001 and was never officially released in the United States. So why am I posting this song? There is an interlude at the 4:48 mark of this song, that should have been an entire song entitled "Rain". But instead of making it an entire song, Kelis basically makes it a hidden track. But to me its worth it, because the 75 seconds or so of "Rain" are really good. I hope that made sense, because I'm too sleepy to re-read or re-type.

So this morning, as I sip my Chai Latte from Starbucks, one of my co-workers comes into my office to talk for a bit. And after she says good morning, the first thing out of her mouth, is that my intern is coming back. You may recall I had an intern helping me out this past summer, and his behavior varied from mildly responsible, to just downright negligent, and I took great joy in besmerching his name on this blog. I tried to give him juicy nuggets of wisdom this past summer by leading by example, and giving him mini pep talks. Apparently I failed, because he ending leaving quite unceremoniously on August 24th. So you can imagine my surprise, when I heard that he would be back for a return tour of duty. I know I'm a contractor and not an official government worker, which means my opinion holds little weight in this matter. But I still think I should have been consulted on this, but I was not.

Now, I have no other choice but to be hard on the young chap when he comes back. No small talk, no pleasant salutations, no stories of his non conquests of women, just do what I ask you to do, have a coke, have a smile, and shut the f**k up. The only way I'll forgo that line of thinking, is if he comes in and apologizes for his shady ways, offers to buy me lunch, and gets me a xmas gift. I think that's fair. In return, I will offer to make that trip to the barber shop that seemed to elude him the entire summer. He had NO shape up at all, and if you need a visual of what no shape up looks like I present you with exhibits a)Larenz Tate from Love Jones and b)NBA player Ron Artest. In this day and age, there's no reason for a grown man, to have a low haircut, and no shape up. Now the two gentlemen I have linked are both rich, so they can get away with it. My intern cannot. I am rambling now, so I shall stop.

One thing I've yet to think about is what if he reads my blog, and comes in here with printouts of everything bad I've ever said to him...


Looking at the Front Door - Main Source

Some weekend observations:

- I am in a football pool with my ladyfriend, and I am getting my ass kicked. In the pool, we have to pick the winner of each game using the point spread, and I just continue to lose. Bill Simmons, a sports columnist over at ESPN, is in the same type of pool with his wife, and he too is getting his ass kicked. His excuse is that people who are sports fanatics, tend to overthink these things, while non football fans just make a decisive pick based on what they know, and don't turn back. I think I'll use that same justification for why I am losing.

- I saw this woman on the train who was full Navy gear. She had the hat, the jacket, the correct posture, and that intense look, which I assume are staples for the Naval Academy. This woman was sitting down reading the paper, but she had her index finger WAY up her nose not once but twice. I think the first finger she put up there was more of an exploratory mission, just to see how much was in her nose. But the second time she went up there, she stayed much longer, and apparently she found what she as looking for, because I saw her take her finger out of her nose, and gently put her findings in her Navy jacket. The Eddie Murphy are-you-just-going-to-leave-the-booger-in-your-jacket scene from the Golden Child came to mind. Clearly she hasn't gotten the memo that a thumb is way more classy than just going up there with a finger.

-I went to a wine and cheese tasting/party this weekend, and now I am obsessed with stealing that idea by having one of my own. The white wine and the cheeses that went with it were on table, and the same went for the red wine. Everything was labeled, neat and I was pretty impressed. I usually don't thrive in social settings like that, but I more than held my own I think. And of course it didnt hurt that the wine flowed freely. Also, during this party someone (my girlfriend) spilled some red wine on the carpet, and I was fully prepared to break out my cleaning technique I explained in this entry Unfortunately, the host of the party had this spray called Wine Off or something like that, and he beat me to it. I was very disappointed that I didn't get to use my remedy in public. I really wanted to spill more wine somewhere else and try it, but I'm sure I would have been kicked out.

Come Along With Me - Joe Sample and Lalah Hathaway

I hate to lead off this entry, with yet another complaint about my back, but its at the forefront of my mind this afternoon. This medication the doctor gave to me is wreakng some serious havoc on me. Sometimes I feel high, sometimes I feel incredibly sleepy, and then other times I feel nauseous. The instructions on both pill bottles said I would have these symptoms as they do with all pills, but usually I am able to avoid them. With this particular batch? Not as much. I was so sleepy last night, that I was barely able to make it through the movie Juno last night. I was nodding off so bad in the movie theatre, that I had open my soda cup, and manually insert ice into my mouth to stay awake. It was a sad state of affairs. And now tonight, I am supposed to attend a wine and cheese party, but I worry about how that will affect me. It doesn't say I cannot drink on the pill bottles, but it does say that alcohol intensifies the effects of the drug, which actually sounds kind of fun, but I'm not into taking risks right. Plus my back still is aching me, and I guess that will keep happening until I further down in this pill bottle. That's the end of rant.

By the way, from what I saw, Juno is a good movie. Go see it.

Caught up in the Rapture - Anita Baker

I went to the doctor's office yesterday, in an effort to get a correct diagnosis on my achy breaky back. I arrived at the office 15 minutes early, so that I could be seen early, and eventually be released at a decent hour so I could return to work. I gave the lady my insurance card, and my $10 co-pay, and then I sat my ass down in the waiting room. Now given that I have a sore back, I am very particular about where I sit down, so once I entered the examination room I had three seating choices. The "bench" where patients are supposed to sit, the hard folding chair, or the leather chair that is typically reserved for the doctor.

I sat on the bench and the folding chair, but both of those did no justice to my back, so I quickly decided that the leather chair was the only viable option for me. Little did I know that I would waiting in that plush chair for an entire hour. Patients who I had walked in after me were seen, and even the nurses were walking into my office wondering why I had not been seen yet. The doctor walked past my waiting room several times, and he would look at me, but not once did he acknowledge me by saying hi or hello. Why is that you may ask? Well I can't prove this, but I suspect that he purposely disrespected and ignored me, because I was sitting in his chair. That is the only reason that makes sense. As I mentioned yesterday, I have been in his office 4 times before, and it has been WAY busier than it was yesterday, and my doctor has always tended to me in 15 minutes or less. Yesterday it was not busy, and he kept me waiting, and again, I think it was all due to where I was sitting. When he finally did come in the waiting room, he didn't say hello, or good morning, or how are you Rashad, he simply said, "I'm going to need you to sit on the bench, so I can have my seat.

Once I got up and sat on the hard bench, only then did he greet me with the typical doctor salutations. Once he asked me why I was there, I told him that my back was killing me, and only certain seating arrangements(like HIS chair) were able to bring me relief. He completely ignored me, and he went straight into putting me into various positions trying to diagnose what exactly was wrong with my poor back. Based on the fact that I could not bend past a 45 degree angle, and other magical things that I didn't quite understand, he was able to determine that I had a pulled muscle in my back. He wrote a prescription for some fabulous drugs and he sent me on my merry way. By the way, thank god for health insurance, because two bottles of drugs only cost me $10. Who needs Nino Brown or Frank Lucas when you're getting good legal drugs for that cheap price? I got away with highway robbery(whatever that means). But even now, almost 24 hours later, I am STILL salty that he kept me waiting because I was sitting on his vaunted throne. Again, I can't prove that this was the reason, but all signs point to exactly that...don't they?

Something Beautiful Remains - Tina Turner
Now I typically don't like any of Tina Turner's post Private Dancer music, but I made an exception with this song. This song was on her 1996 cd, entitled Wildest Dreams, and I gotta tell you, the original version of this song was hot garbage. But thanks to our favorite begging ass, I-can-do-it-better-than-your-man R&B singer Joe, we have a remixed version of the song, that is WAY better, and that is the song I present to you today.

I cannot believe that the trip I am making to the doctor's office will be my fifth one this year. That's unprecedented for me, but considering that back relief is on the way I cannot complain at all. I'm tired of bending my knees to pick things up, and walking like a mummy, and listening to folks give me their educated opinion on what they THINK is wrong with my back. Hopefully the doctor will actually take me seriously this time, and really do his due dilligence.

I know I have spoken about this before, but the relationship guys have with their friends is a very complex one. My ladyfriend and I contemplated sending out Christmas cards, and we were making a list, and I included some female friends, parents, but I left out my boys, while my ladyfriend included all of her friends. And then I tried to imagine how ghey it would be to send a "Happy Holidays" card to all of my male friends. After they did the money check(which consists of turning the card upside down, then shaking, then looking in the card again), they would probably call me and ask me what the hell was on my mind. MAYBE I could get away with it if I threw a "Happy Holidays Man" in there, but that doesn't even sound legitimate. The list of things you can't do with your boys continues to grow.

Not much to say right now, but i'm sure my visit to the doctor will provide me with much more material.

Just A Friendly Game of Baseball - Main Source

There is an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm (season 3 to be exact), when Larry David watches someone clean up a stain out of a couch by using table salt and club soda. He was very impressed by this and he decided he would make a mental note of that in case he had to use that very move at a later date. Well it just so happened that he DID have to use that very move, when he spilled something in his bedroom, and he was thrilled that he knew exactly how to get it up (pissing off his wife who wanted to have sex rather than watch him use this cleaning manuever). Now I really never knew that club soda and table salt could be so damn magical, so I too made a mental note of this, in case I had to save an article of clothing, carpet, sheets, or whatever. It just so happened that last night, was my time to shine.

I was sitting on the bed enjoying a glass of fine Cabernet Sauvignon, while watching an episode of the Office with my lady, when a funny line was uttered, and I started laughing uncontrollably. Apparently I was laughing a bit too hard, because I looked down and half my glass of wine was now on the bedspread. Initially I had a look of defeat on my face, and I was hoping my ladyfriend wouldn't see my clumsy moment, but that would be too good to be true. Of course she saw it, and she was getting ready to tell me about myself, when the episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm came to my head. I ran in the kitchen, picked up some kosher salt and some sparkling water(Pellegrino to be exact..and may I add that Pellegrino is some damn good water and its a shame I had to waste it on a cleanup mission) and I ran to the scene of the spot. Of course at this point, I am all excited, but I'm not really effective in my execution of this move, so my lady walks me through the process, and we apply the salt and the water, and it seems to be getting up the red wine stain. Then my friend goes online, looks up Hints from Heloise, and she determined that we also needed to add Peroxide to this wonderful elixir we were concocting. 5 minutes later, we wiped everything up, dried it a bit with a towel, and the bedspread was stain free. I feel like that whole moment should have been youtubed or something man. We were surgical and it was teamwork at its absoulte finest. So if you're scoring at home(or if you're alone), I got the cleanup idea from Curb Your Enthusiasm, the humor on the Office caused the spill, and the Hints from Heloise allowed us to put the finishing touches on the cleanup.

Moments like this are why I have a blog in the first place: To attempt to add beautiful words to otherwise mundane situations.

Cloud 9 - The Temptations
All of the orignal Temptations are dead, except for Otis Williams who just happens to be the founding member of the group. For 43 Years, Otis has been a member of the group, and he sings the best background lyrics you've never heard. He was never given the lead vocal in any song during all that time, but in this 1968 hit, I guess the group decided to take the shackles off of Otis, and they allowed his voice to be heard, and to my knowledge this is the ONLY time Otis' voice is ever clearly heard on record. At the 2:00 mark and again, at the 2:48 point he bellows out an off-key, "Realityyyyyy", and that's it. 43 years, countless shows, plenty of tricky dance steps, numerous women and good times, and all he gets is an off-key, "Realityyyy".

I really don't think the 23 months of jail time Michael Vick was sentenced was bad at all, although that's probably because I am not the one doing the time. But considering he could have gotten up to 5 years, he tested positive for weed in between court dates, and he was in the Commonwealth of Virginia, he got off relatively easy. I was a bit sad to learn that he and his lady just had a baby daughter back in October, which means that girl really won't know Daddy until she's two. How do you explain to your daughter that you went to jail because you fought dogs for 10% of the profit you made on the football field? I would like to be a fly on the wall when that conversation goes down.

I have watched my brother, my father, my mother, my ladyfriend, and lots of my favorite athletes endure back pain and discomfort, and I always said to myself that I would do any and everything to make sure I never had to feel anything like that. Well after avoiding it for 32 years and 11 months, it has finally caught up to me. I told my doctor about it last week, but I guess he figured that my back stiffness was related to the chest cold I had. Well all my cold symptoms have thankfully disappeared, but this back stiffness has increased exponentially. Now I have to turn around and go back to the very doctor who stiffed me (no pun intended) for a week until last Tuesday. I've thought about seeing a chiropractor, I thought of going to get a massage, and I may even try a heating pad here at work, but first I suppose I should go see the doctor and possibly get a referral, and go from there. I sincerely hope that this is just a fleeting thing, because this stiff back is preventing me from working out and getting svelte for my birthday extravaganza in Miami. This can't be what getting old(er) is about.

All for One - Brand Nubian
I post a lot of songs in this blog, and sometimes they fit my mood, and other times I feel like I have a song that not a lot of people have, and I feel like sharing. Then you have times like today, when I just post a song I want to hear. This song is one of my top 5 favorite rap songs EVER. There's no flash. no bells and whistles, just three MCs flowing effortlessly over a minimal beat. In another blog I read, someone asked the question, "What is hip hop?", and a bunch of folks went into these pseudo-intellectual explanations on what hip hop was, is and will be. I simply put the title of this song, and if you listen, hopefully you can hear why. Otherwise, you can just go back to listening to T-Pain or some shit like that.