okay so now I have a job

well I would love to make this post longer and go on and on, but I just got a new job so Im off to go celebrate, the way Americans do, with ale, hops, and some oprah book clubbery

okay so I dont have a job right now...

Okay, so judging by the title of this post you are lead to think one of two things. 1- he does not have a job right now, and 2-whats the capital of Illinois. I won't go into the exact details of it, but know I was not fired. Long story short, I don't work for the company I used to.

So when I share this information with people in my life, hobos, vagabonds, and the gypsies I travel with I get this response first each time. Ouch man, sorry to hear that. Or, whoa, in this economy, that's tough. I read stories about people being let go, folks getting laid off, and I understand that times are tough right now, I understand that sometimes we get a raw deal. I fully get that, however, this is what trumps that in my personal opinion....Pick yourself up, mourn it out for a second and get back on that horse. At this time, that's all I have to say about this matter.

However let me get down to some quick updates. Holiday season, and damn if people don't get all over the top about it, but I'll tell you who won't... this guy. So last night me and The Lady are sitting at the table eating dinner and she's talking to me about something or other about the Christmas lights and going to see them. Apparently it was soaked all over my face that I was luke warm to the idea, cause it prompted her to say "babe, you really don't have much Christmas spirit". I don't know what would lead her to this frame of mind, other than such quotes by me as "I dont care about putting up lights" "I don't want to buy gifts" " I wish people would not buy me anything at all" "Ping Pally Wam Bam" and "wop it up wop it up". (Yes the last two are not real statements, just seeing if you were paying attention.) asides from those passing comments I love the holidays. All the stress, all the people killing folks in stores to get plastic toys, folks getting nervous about presents folks may never use, sweaters that don't fit. What's not to love??

Now before I steal your joy, or get 1000 posts on how Im Scrooge and all that, let me clarify. I like family, I like being around loved ones, I like telling stories and cracking jokes, I love it. Everything else...not so much, and yes I mean everything else. The same old songs every year, the same movies, the same stress. I mean really, I was born in 1982, you mean to tell me since then man has managed to invent the internet, elect a black president, invent self check out lines, keyless car start ups, the thong, and clone a sheep..yet no one has come up with any new Christmas songs? I mean really, still jingle bells, really, and what the heck is with the 12 days of Christmas!!!! what does that even mean? Jewish folks don't even celebrate Christmas and even their holiday is only 8 days, and what are the gifts their talking about. Milking maids, leaping lizards, partridges, pear trees?? It's as if a man on acid back in 1976 made some jingle while tripping FIVE GOLDEN RINGS...four calling birds...three french hens...I mean damn you just got four birds, and three hens on back to back days, so in theory you just got 7 new birds introduced into your home, and thats just on the 4th day. At that point I would call off the whole thing and be like, forget this, not to mention the partridge in the tree, so actually its 8 damn birds and its not even day 5. I'd cancel the whole thing, and be like thanks but no thanks, and get those damn maids out here, their making a mess.

In all seriousness I'm just cracking jokes so if you love that song, or caroling, or if your name is even Carol, yes I love you, and the little drummer boy, and all that jazz.

But honestly do you think when folks set out to celebrate the birth of Jesus, they meant 87 cent wrapping paper and Blu Ray discs....

yeah she's my wife

Let's just get to the chase on this one...

For work I have been doing a lot of traveling the last few weeks or so. Just this past weekend I was down in Alexandria, Louisiana (which is kind of tight as I live in Alexandria, Virginia...stalk away)(don't really stalk away The Lady would be pissed, and yes, I did follow a parenthesis with another). Anyway I'm down there with a co-worker from our San Diego office and we are looking for some food. Long story short we are lost, and I just pull over for directions at a gas station...AAAAND ACTION!

(Setting Dark Shady gas station in back woods Louisiana with me and my coworker, a very sweet California girl, a pretty girl, and very polite at that)

Me: Hey my man you know how I can get back to somewhere to eat?

At this point the adult I asked looks at me rolls his eyes and walks into the gas station... leaving a 10 year old boy with a HUGE camo jacket on to respond, with a soaking Lew easy anna accent...

Boy: WHAT! WHAT YOUWANNAEET?
ME:like a restaurant or something champ
Boy: (still yelling, caps lock is a pain to keep hitting, so just keep up) Ohh laik summcdonalds right?!?!
Me: no like an applebees
Boy: (still yelling) Oh like some chinese sit down get out right quick?!?!

at which point the man from earlier who ignored me comes up behind the boys, puts him in a headlock and drags him away by his heels, at which point immediately a new boy replaces him, where he came from I am still re-creating the night to try to figure that out. Mind you a new 10 year old is there while this other boy gets dragged off. Also the new boy is accompanied by a man drinking his beer from a bag practically doing the butterfly as he walks and they hit me with...

Man and Boy: what you need to do is leave here go in a box of turns and you'll be there?
Me: oh (as I think what the hell is a box of turns? I'm only accustomed to a sphere of yields, and an occasional hexagon of right on reds)

at this point the new boy is leaning forward to blatantly check out my co worker, smiling, winking and lip macking, while I at, the same time am leaning so far forward to block his view my cheek is about to fire off the horn if I inhale. Finally old man just comes out and goes...

M/B: "So what up, that yo wife?"
Me: thinking: really straight to wife fellas? not girl friend, fiancee', on and off again, late night discreet...really straight to wife? See but that's what you're supposed to think you newbie, what a man of this caliber is letting you know with that question is the following: I am a grimy somebody and have no shame in hitting on a woman who is here with you in any capacity, unless of course you two are legally bound by law as husband and wife, otherwise....sweetie what yo name is. So without thinking I hit him with "yeah fam, that's my wife" throw it in reverse as more man boy combo's start showing up Thriller style, from out of the Louisiana backwoods and just peeled out the damn gas station.

Aaand Cut!

P.S
now deepest apologies, as this was a pretty major event to me as it happened, however I hope its not one of those "had to be there" things in which event, my bad, if it helps you any, there were two dinosaurs there the whole time, a velociraptor, and a teradactyl (AHHHH WOW I SPELLED BOTH OF THOSE RIGHT THE FIRST TIME, NO RED UNDERLINES) and no, I am not some dinosaur afficionado, just got my "sound it out" on. and on that note, get back to work.

Nullified Contract

In the past twelve months, a grand total of 9 of my friends have been laid off. I got to thinking about this in lieu of recent events in my office. Monday (today is Wednesday, or maybe its not when you are reading this, but to serve as a timeline, I am writing this on a Wednesday and the events to be described took place on Monday). Monday, I decided to work from home, come to find out the President of the company is in town for an impromptu visit. Just so you know, he works in San Diego (for all new comers, I work in Virginia) apparently it was an un announced visit, and yadda yadda yadda, I could fill in a lot here about the course of the day, but I've got a lot of ground to cover here, so Ive got to just hit the main points of this story.

President shows up
people are in a panic
co-worker gets fired.

Okay, so you're all caught up, lesson 271 of living in grown up world: The Boss does not show up for drinks. If you my friend, are reading this, please know that you will be missed and you are a damn good guy. My deepest apologies to you and I genuinely wish we could have gotten to work together longer. Your humor, level head, and overall calm demeanor will be missed if by no one else, by me GO OBAMA.

So with my boy having been let go (non economy based) and thinking of my friends who have also been laid off or not had their contracts renewed in various fields, it really got me to thinking. Essentially, the agreement we make with America, or at least are sold upon is as follows. You go to college, get a degree, get a job, procreate the species. Long as you don't go committing felonies or appear on a reality show the country will provide a good job for you and you will play your part. It is the quintessential question of our youth as American kids: "what do you want to be when you grow up?". A question asked so often that it is no longer a question but rather an assumption. An assumption that upon making a plan, and working towards that you will be rewarded with said career...but if it were only that simple.

As I recently turned 26 I realized I am more and more an adult versus a really old teenager, or something closely resembling that. And as I look around (yeah yeah I started a sentence with and, soo mee, at leest I cun spellll) I notice more and more of my friends reaching the points in their lives in which they are now to be rewarded that almighty "job" they have been dutifully trained to recieve. Yet, sadly, America is dropping the ball.

We are being asked, as a generation, to establish a strong foothold, a foundation if you will. In the toughest of economic times in 70 years. We are the smartest set of students this nation has ever birthed. We are the first generation of internet kids entering the work force. We are indeed a force of our own, look at what our generation has come privy to and the advances and places we will be fortunate enough to go. Touch screens, holograms, laptop, text message, wifi, and just think how much of this stuff wasn't even in vouge just 5 years ago. We are the Jetsons you all, I repeat, we are the Jetsons. But with all that being said, with all our great splendor and mind power... we have the least jobs available, and we have the least opportunity? Lay offs at 25, 26, and 27? What? with a college degree, and working in your field, that's not how the agreement goes.

I won't wax on further about policies and my personal ideologies, not cause I don't want to, but because chances are you are at work, and I'm not trying to get you too off track.

But my basic point is this. America: we are here, and its time to pony up.

Bus Driver Break Up

Alright, so since I last wrote a lot has gone down on my morning 28B route to the office. It should be noted that when I ride the bus, I sit all the way in the front. Not to make some sort of stirring political move or anything, but its rather to look like a nerd with no friends as I read my books (no seriously). Any way, so in doing this I have seemed to strike up a bond with my morning bus driver, she calls me "Virginia Beach" as that's where I'm from and I call her "Bus Driver" well in honesty I don't even call her that, I just look at her when I talk to her to avoid the awkwardness of calling her by her profession as her name.

Now for whatever reason, she had started to give me curbside service. Meaning that when all the other people got off the bus she would tell me to sit still, wait for them to all get off then she would personally drive me the additional 7 blocks and drop me off right at my job. She told me it was the last stop and she had no problem driving me down the street while she was off duty, that it was on her way. I suppose now is a good time to point out that the same Bus Driver has a pretty down right nasty attitude when it comes to dealing with, well, how can I put this... humans. She snaps at all the other patrons, rolls her eyes, sometimes misses stops and blames it on the people, some would go as far as to say she's not that good at her job, but hey I get that curbside, so I won't be the one to say that. I'll be the one to write it in a blog that she will never read, like a real man.

So one day, while she's taking me on my private shuttle, some Bus Czar stops her. I mean you had to see this, in the middle of the road a short pudgy black dude wearing a bus driver suit and one of those orange 'don't hit me' safety patrol things. Steps out and puts his up, commanding the bus to stop. Then my man climbs on board, and rips into Bus Driver Lady. Imagine a tiny little, pudgy, nerdy, Bus Czar (again writing all this in a blog Bus Czar will never read) he came at her with: " You know you didn't stop at that last red light, you're following too close, why are you wearing those shoes, where is your employee hand book, it should be on you yadda yadda yadda" I mean he just lit into her, and where am I sitting while this is happening, front seat, oh, yes it's way awkward. Then he cranes his neck around and gives me the grossest of looks and says "... and why is this person on your bus when you're off duty?!". She tells him I'm her cousin, and had he had any sense he would have just had to ask me to say her name and the gig would have been up, cause Im damn certain my guess of Bussdrivanika was wrong. I tried to smooth things over by telling him "Hey man I'll get off I'm not trying to make any trouble" to which he spat back "Naw go on and stay now, you done caused enough trouble as is".

Needless to say, I don't get that curb side anymore.

But something more pressing had been happening that I wasn't paying attention to. The Bus Driver had been getting to my bus stop later and later each day. But it wasn't a big deal cause I was getting, that curb side so it made up for it. But now that that curb side was gone, her coming late really was killing me. Then it started getting colder, and her running late was just getting down right mean. Pretty soon I started sitting in the back, and just like that we weren't talking anymore. I stopped getting off at the front door, as to avoid her glare. Her response...just come later, and later, and later. Till finally I just started catching a new bus and driving on occasion 25A is my new ride. I left 28B without so much as a good bye, sometimes I see it go by when I'm around the apartment and I remember the fun, the front, and that oh so precious curb side, but that was then, and this is now, I feel as though its better this way.

This morning though while driving, I pulled up at the light, and I promise you good old 28B pulled up right next to me. I waved, and Bus Driver waved back, she opened her window and shouted "oh so you DRIVE now?!" as if to say, oh and this is how I find out, here at this light, in front of all my friends!! I just nodded and zoomed away at the green.

Vamp Much

Maybe I'm buggin, but what is the deal with all the vampires lately?!? I mean really, what is the deal? No really, I am going to keep typing this question until I get an answer, what is the deal--okay I suppose you get the point: I do not know the deal with vampires.

Between HBO's new hit True Blood, the Twilight movie/book phenomenon, halloween just passing (interesting note you should be aware of, I didn't know if halloween was capital letter level or not, but just to play it safe I voted not). People can not seem to get enough of the blood suckers, which I suppose is fine by me, but then again its not...

Now I pride myself in being a pretty liberal guy, pretty down with a lot of things. But this vampire stuff, nah, I'm not that cool with it. I was all about Harry Potter, even wish I could play Quidditch with him and his boys. However, at no point do I think drinking blood is okay, I don't even think its cool to open up the discussion as to whether its an acceptable new cool thing.

For adults and folks my age, you go right ahead and make your own choices, but in a day in which men cut other mens heads off on buses. When kids actively shoot up schools, put babies in microwaves, play games that promote murder, drop out of high school at an alarming rate. Blood sucking, immortal, night dwellars, who may or may not pledge their allegiance to Satan. Are not the newest catchphrase we need to be inserting into our children's lexicon. Am I some purist or religious right zealot. Yeah right. However I am someone who notices straight foolishness when I see it.

I'll step down from this soapbox as I'm aware this isn't my usual tone, but I did want to get that off my chest. 

Take 2

Okay so let me start right away by saying, no I was not gone, and did not give up on the blog or get too busy with life yadda yadda yadda. I made a point to stop writing during the last leg of the election. My reason being, it was all that everyone around me was talking about, therefore it would have been all that I wrote about, and while I did have a many things to say, I felt that in the mix of everyone talking about the election on the TV, in the paper, online, radio, my voice would have just blended into the river of overkill. 

So now that Barack Obama has won the highest seat in the land.....I'm Back.

sometimes i just stay up late

Maybe, it's still a part of me that wants to hold on to being able to stay up as late as I can. Maybe I really do like falling a sleep on the couch after years of dosing off on the couch throughout college and high school. I could maybe list a hundred more reasons, but whatever path I would chose to navigate to help paint the metaphor for you, they would all lead to this, right here, and this, is me up at 12:41 writing to you, while you're bored at work.

The Lady works for a hospital (NOT A NURSE) she would be proud that I made that known. In layman's terms here is what she does. Flies around on a little baby helicopter and comes up with new possible state capitals for Michigan, Illinois, and Idaho. Actually, she does nothing of the sort, but that makes more sense than if I tried to explain what she does, so just know at the end of the day, more people are alive because of what she does.... and Boise had better watch out (its a really good joke, scroll back to the state capital reference, check out the Idaho, then respect the Boise-ahh nevermind, it was funny to me). 

In any event The Lady went to bed a few hours ago, which is fine, she works ten hour shifts. For whatever reason, I really love the quiet time I get in the evenings. Not in a "I love that she's not around" as much as it is a quaint time to just run with my random thoughts of the day. At a different time, I would spend this time rolling up some weed and playing Madden. Followed by passing out and laughing. However the baton has been passed to reading books and fantasy football. 

Speaking of which, has there ever been a more nerdy thing for you to try and explain to your girl as fantasy football..."No see babe, I have my own pretend team of guys from every team, but so does everyone else, and we take the stats of everyone, then add them as if they were on our own magic, all inclusive team etc etc yadda it's really cool!" Fellas, your best bet is to breathe it out suck it up, embrace the nerdatiy of it and just ask her to hold on for a few months.

I've started to notice the shuffle of cards that is combined living. Having always lived with roomates, all of whom, with one exception were male. Decorating, and all in all "caring about your place" meant nothing to me. However now that I'm here now and have a pretty decent spot, furniture, and shop for food, I have a whole new sense of "can you put a coaster down". The cards start to mix, most noticeably when we go shopping for food. As all the name brands, and flavored meals of my youth become the first thing my subconscious reaches for instinctively. And when she looks at me like "what is that" my first thought is...what is this? what is this? this is good eats right here woman, this here is what got me to be the man I am today, that happens to have eaten this his whole life, helped to get me to where I am to where I am!, which for the record is still aisle 9 on a mad man rant. Practically at this point I'm fighting  back tears just cause the woman has never heard of JIFFY cornbread. When two aisles later she makes some demand about an instant mashed potato I don't know anything about, first thing I say to her is "what is that?". Graciously, ever the lady, she responds, "its good babe". And amazingly thats all the convincing I need. 

So now it's 1 am and my apartment complex is set up as two 26 story high rise styles that face one another. For whatever reason, the later into the night it gets, I find a silent joy in opening the curtains, or going on the balcony, and seeing less lights on in the other building from my previous check. As if now, even at 26 I'm still playing the I stayed up later than you game. Sometimes if it gets too late I'll rationalize that not all the lights are people still up, some have dozed off on the couch with the light on, and others just leave it on for comfort, so obviously I have outlasted even more mere "sleep needers" suckers.

Alright I could keep going, at this point, but I'm sure you've got an email to send, or a client to update, or some sort of something you had no idea you would be doing 5 years ago, and if you don't make something up. How dare you try to steal my over dramatic witty attempt at a clever closing. 

You get back to that file, as I watch some "sleepy head" on the 16th floor turn out the lights... victory. Another one bites the dust.

In Actuality

Having moved to a larger area it seems to me that lately a new wave of compassion has been slowly taking over me. A wave of thought that perhaps had previously escaped me, or to better phrase it, a wave of thought that was foreign to me. Nonetheless it is upon me now, and to be honest, it is upon me heavily.

In interacting with so many people day to day, walking around my apartment complex, riding the bus, walking the streets etc. I see a lot of the same something in people's faces, better yet, I see the same lack of something. It is the look of lower middle to middle America meandering along through their days. It is the look of "today is the most important day, and as long as I can get through it I will be ok". I see it on the face of the Hispanic man on the bus in the morning with a homemade cast, held together with a bandana and a shoestring. I see it on the face of the bus driver who two weeks ago gave me the scowl of a lifetime when boarding the bus, but now is glad to talk to me about her search for a new home for her and her two kids. I see it on the face of the mother walking the streets with one kid in a stroller and another holding her hand, the same hand that lacks a wedding ring.  I get on the bus, in the morning, and I don't see neckties and white collars, but more paint splattered jeans, and people leaving job A, heading to job B. 

They train you early that its black, and its white. As a black person, we especially train ourselves to think that it is us, and it is them, but here, everyday I have come to realize more and more that its quite a bit larger than that. I've got a bunch of rich friends, well dressed, well spoken, college educated, savy, up on politics, sports and all the latest trends. I also am the son of a father who currently at 48 has had two strokes, is an alcoholic, marijuana fiend, who lives sternly from check to check, often times coming very short. So please believe, I understand. For years I thought that perhaps Dread  (what I call my father, as he has long flowing dreadlocks) was a rare instance , him and his friends, an outlier on the bell curve of society. Him and his rag tag set of friends, quick to blaze up, even quicker to drink up, and quickest to the strip club with a story about last night that would leave you laughing, and slightly shy to listen. I used to think that perhaps, by and large most folks lived like my other friends, like the ones I was accustomed to in the safe and soundness of middle to upper middle America. Or perhaps I knew all along that this was the life of many, but just was hoping for otherwise.

Truth is, people are struggling. Truth is, people have been struggling, and truth is people will stay struggling. I get off the bus, leaving behind those looking forward to a cash advance, or a money order to pay their bills cause they don't have bank accounts and nothing works better than cash in hand. I get off the bus, take a few steps, and like magic, I'm closer to my office and surrounded by the bluetooth's and the Banana Republic sale bags, Ipod's and hipster lingo. I get off the bus, and I feel at home, safe again. Safe to talk about last nights game or gripe about some random hassle that I have been assigned at work. I get off the bus, but I still feel the people sitting in the back. I still see the kids waiting for the community college stop, and the moms with no dads, the first generations just mastering English. I get off the bus, and leave the sea of sadness, feeling guilty, and at the same time I wish I could stay longer. If only to hear each and every persons story, to understand what they are going through,  and what they wish they could be.

Call it sugary I really could care less. I just wanted to put it out there that the world is big, and people are struggling. Struggling to pay rent, and fill up gas tanks, to eat food, and they aren't the first, and they won't be the last. Big cities gobble up dreams left and right, see I used to hope that maybe only Dread and his buddies had lost their dreams. Maybe I could have dealt with that, I could have faced it cause I knew that at least I made them happy, by telling them about college, and school and the things they wanted to do. I could have dealt with a few folks not getting out of life what they bargained for, long as I could help out. Sadly I was wrong, cause they aren't the only ones. 

It's a dog eat dog world out there.

"...Im just robbin to eat/

and there's at least a 1000 other like me mobbin the street/

when we starvin we eat/

whatevers there/

come on you know the code in the street/

whatever's fair..."

"Get at Me Dog" DMX

dirty thoughts

it has come to my notice lately just how sexually charged our culture is by and large. on the surface it would surprise (i wont be using capital letters for this point by the way, no real reason just don't like reaching my pinky all the way over there for shift).

me and the lady were on our way back home from something or other and noticed an adult video store. its a few blocks from our apartment and i have never given much thought to it, however she pointed out, rather surprised, at how large the store was. i had never given any thought to how large the store was till she said that. granted the place is two stores, and roughly the size of a kids r us (not a toy r us, those things are huge) anyhow it got me to thinking, thinking quite a bit for that matter. i pointed out to her that this is not something out of the norm in a large city, or in america for that matter. i quickly pointed out to her that i used to work in a movie rental store and our most rented movies were the porno's. by far.

i remembered back to being 19 and working at the store, and having the same initial shock as the lady had the other night. i remember middle class mothers dropping off the XXX rated films in the drop box, and the college guys roaming around the back porn room with open eyes. i remember the new to america immigrants shuffling in the store and darting straight to the back, amazed with the blonde bombshell american beauties who would go to any lengths to satisfy their well endowed "all american" male, and sometimes, female counterparts. i remember how one thing remained true over and over, whether young or old, black, white, hispanic, greek, russian or what have you, while the new releases and the 5.99 bin appealed to folks of varied interest, the porn room, in the back appealed to pretty much everyone.

that back room had a camera installed so that we could keep an eye on the people in there while they made their selections. even as i write this i can remember vividly watching people spend up to 45 minutes in there just spellbound by the covers of the films alone. what surprised me most then, was not the fact that so many people were drawn to the back room, but the ease at which so many unsuspecting people could pick out a film and bring it to me, a total stranger and be about their business. yes, i could go on at this point about the number of foolish porn titles and various weird tastes of my common man but i'll save that for a conversation over drinks, that within itself is a story best told face to face rather than online. i would sit and watch these people and wonder, wow, is it that serious? apparently it was, and apparently it still is.

i can say with all honesty that i have never been into porn, not necessarily from a moral high ground, but just out of personal interest. to me, if you were starving and had not eaten, or were just hungry for that matter, what sense would it make to watch other people eat, when you could just go get something to eat for yourself? although i am not the porn aficionado myself, i do understand the draw of it all. nudity, even at its most base level has a certain draw and taboo to it, even adam hid in the garden from God upon his discovery of being naked. 

nonetheless, it just lead me to think so much about how much and important sex is in 2008. my generation perhaps more so than any other before us has grown up in such a sexualized culture, some of it perverse and some of it traditional. think about the fact that so many "celebrities" all have sex tapes that get "leaked" often times these leaks are to boost their popularity and get their name turning up in search engines. read: paris hilton, an already established multi millionaire heiress in waiting who had a full fledged romp leak on the internet only to parlay that moment of false em bare ass ment (pretty witty) into an even higher level of stardom, tv shows, albums, movies even references from presidential candidate's. it subtly teaches the praise of sex and what it can get you, and where it can lead. remember the thong song, hell, i'll even admit that before that song came out i had no idea as to what a thong was, now, i would consider myself not only a fan, but a full fledged supporter. 

we once did not allow kissing on screen in movies, when just as recently as sunday me and the lady watched the new hbo series "true blood" and there were graphic scenes of vampires having sex with humans, and this was on tv before 11pm. 

i am not the moral right, nor am i here to lambaste or challenge those with their fetishes, i could go on and on, and i think i might actually post a few more in regards to this, but please give me some comments or feedback, i'll further answer questions or do any research asked upon, i just want to hear your thoughts on some of the following...

what are your thoughts on sex in america? sex in the workplace? sex parties? swinging? gay/lesbianism? threesomes? masturbating? online dating/sex? cyber sex? fisting? porn?sex on screen, and in music? premarital sex?  positions etc, hit me up let me know, and ill address, not as a creep, but in an attempt to learn.

Ten Hut!

I remember being younger and my mother, aunts, grandmothers, and every other adult for that matter having a set of "shows" that they watched. Dramas, comedies, soaps, miniseries, musicals, anything you can name, they had it. Knew the characters, knew the story lines, knew the infinite minute details (thats my newt, not the time interval min nut)

I remember thinking how amazing it was that they could have a show to watch EVERY night of the week. Oh I would be mad, salty, grumped up, mostly for the sake of being grumped up come to think of it, yes I would get salty at these shows for no real reason. If only I knew then what I know now.

Ever since joining "big people world" I have started to come to enjoy my nightly retreat to my couch and DVR. Side note big people world means getting off work at 5 daily. By daily I mean every day until they tell you that you have to work last Saturday for 3 hours thus meaning you get off at 3, which at first sounds good because its a short day, then you remember that it's a Saturday, so the fact within itself that there is a "day" to be had means you are salty. However when asked, you dutifully reply "oh it's no big deal" because you are still the new guy and don't want to ruffle TOO MANY feathers, oh but would you look at that, a tangent has arisen.

Again, having scrolled up I see what I was talking about. Some sort of babble about watching TV. I have reached a point where 9pm might as well be considered my landing pad in my living room. Monday through Friday I have at least one show to watch, most times two. I have to fill in The Lady on what she missed on her trip the bathroom, or her to do the same with me. However I will note that she has the remarkable ability to find a way to either text, call, or use the bathroom at the best point of the whole show. Just last night we are watching a movie, and right at the climax point of the whole film, she decides to get up and finish dinner. RIGHT THEN? Babe there are 3 minutes left and you want to make gravy? Well seeing as that I'm not going to be doing it suit yourself (but this is the good part!!)

I guess my new found love for the 9pm courtroom/doctor/police/silly family/wild zany set of friends/ hour long drama/hijinks and hilarity. Has a lot to do with my  understanding, and slow acceptance of the fact that I am now marching to the tune of a different drum. And that drum my friends is adulthood.

 It means I get up at the same time, and do essentially the same thing every day. Evaporating are the days/years I spent getting high, and staying drunk unsure of the adventure to come to me from day to day. Gone is the skirt chasing and questions about what I'm trying to do with life and all the things I could go on to list here but frankly I've got work to get back to so just substitute some long personal story, so just sub in your own story here of stuff you used to do, and pretend you are reading it here............

Let me tell you what I do actually do now. I have all new conversations. All. New. Conversations. I talk about work now, and benefits, and how I'm not getting enough of them, I compare benefits to my friends and family to their delight or dismay, all depending on what their job is so kind to give them dictates their response. I talk about the gym, everyone around me talks about the gym. We talk about losing weight, we talk about gaining weight, muscle mass, quads, lats, cardio. We talk about the newest diet, the newest method, the oldest methods, the all bread plan, the all macaroni plan, we talk and we talk, and we talk about that gym. How we don't go enough, how we need to go more, how we just don't like it, and should we just let our membership lapse. Believe you me. I talk about the gym.  I talk about equity, and owning a home, raises, making partner, getting laid off, going to grad school. I guess that the first 20 or so years of your life you talk a lot about dicking around and take joy in getting older, now I see we talk about starting the process. The process of being adult. From time to time I talk about marriage, and I talk about kids, most often not cause a lot of my boys still talk bout getting girls. I talk about the conference call at noon, then talk about who understood the new project, then I talk about doing work. I TALK a lot about doing work, as I have realized doing work is practically forbidden in the work place. So we talk about it. I talk about what's for dinner and low sodium meals, and cleaning the apartment on the weekend, and did I pay the cable bill yet?. I talk about "don't worry about it babe, those ladies in the office are just crazy."

And somewhere in between, when I'm not talking about that, when not following the script and filling in the blanks. I talk about "did you see that last night?" Because we march the beat, and I don't want to get out of step. So I watch the shows, and I talk about that.

Hangover 101

Sorry it's been a few days for my last post but I've been busy basking in the glow of being 26. Which might I add has lead t more people than average telling me how old I will be in 4 years... yes 30. Its almost to the point where every person I speak with is quick to point that out, which is odd because no one points out at 16 you are 4 years from 20, or that at 7 you are 4 years from 11. Yes I am aware of such, but thats a whole Olympics away from now so lets just relax, Michael Phelps isn't about to hit the pool again and I'm not about to turn 30...not just yet. With that being said lets get down to some work occupying bloggage.

Okay so bloggage is a stupid word now that I read it again.

This weekend I went out with some friends, and The Lady mind you. I caught up with an old buddy from college who I haven't seen since so needless to say we did what all guys older than 22 would do... drink heavy and tell stories of our historic pasts. I suppose now is a good time to lace this story with a dose of foreshadowing: I have never had a hang over cue dramatic music. No, never. For those that know me, I can drink, not like a horse, cause well, I use cups and napkins, horses just use lips and look stupid. But if a horse did use a cup or a napkin, then I suppose I would drink like said horse, but for all intents and purposes, I can handle my booze (no I didn't say I have never gotten sick off drinking, just never a hang over). 

Anyway, we leave bar number one, where it should be noted that The Lady casually accused me of not listening to her tell me something cause I was "too busy gawking" too which I SWIFTLY replied "what at some pot bellied ho's?!?!?!". Needless to say, I don't think I have ever used that phrase in my life but the fact that I said it so quickly and alarmingly is still funny to me as I type, and she let me off the hook. Mostly because I wasn't gawking, duh. Fellas, feel free to use that one if you like, but you've got to be sure there are a decent amount of pot bellage in the area. Damn, I thought I could sell the bellage after that bloggage attempt went over so poorly, 0 for 2 on witty -age endings. Oh wellage.

Bar one, done, and heading to bar two, I'll keep it short in saying this is how it went. We got there, we drank, we laughed my friends sweated like hogs, I laughed, we drank. Then I woke up.

Apparently however between that last period after we drank and then I woke up this happened. I threw up out of my buddies still moving car while driving through D.C I undressed myself rather wildly and incoherently in my living room, got sick some more, walked into a wall, stabbed a bellhop (not really). And woke up with with the most intense pain in my skull known to man. Goodness gracious, my friends even used to hate hard for me never having a hang over. I'll even be honest to point out The Lady has admitted to being happy to watch me in pain that day as she giggled "finally finally finally" to herself, imagine Rumplestiltskin doing his dance in the woods, and thats how she looked in excitement as I was doubled over in pain. (she did also nurture me while I took some Ibuprofen, gave me water while I got sick again the next day, provide me with a pillow, rub my back, get me food, and let me be a complete nothing for the day) So I assume the dance and giggling can be somewhat forgiven :) and yes she is right next to me reading as I type oh I love you so much babe so so much.

Needless to say when I finally woke up from my second or third coma all I could think to myself was "damnit, this is what it means to be 4 years from 30".

Well would you look at that.

Let's just jump right into the meat of today. Today, is my birthday. For the record I am now 26, and that actually stirs up a lot of thoughts for me, and would you look at that, you're bored at work so pull up a seat.

First thing, 26 is officially a grown up age. My favorite age so far has been 24, not cause it was an epic year, but because for a whole year I could refer to myself as Jack Bauer. (upon proofreading, that was a pretty lame joke, but mind you, I was a young lad back then). Also there seems to be this widespread panic about getting older here in America especially among people in my age range. Let me be the first to say, I LOVE GETTING OLDER. What's not to love? As much as people publicly wish they could be young again, do you really want to go back to that? Yeah sure you could seemingly do whatever you wanted. In actuality being a kid is like being an animal in a zoo. Wake up when woken, go to bed when told, eat what fed, play when allowed, all your life depends upon the mood of your parents. Fast forward a few years to your mid twenties...well well well what have we here. 

I wake up when I want(after the "death bell" better known as an alarm clock goes off") , I stay up however late I want, I eat anything I want(as long as The Lady says its okay). I can drink beer, I can say bad words, I can draw pictures of breasts if I want, I can type the word breasts if I want. I can stand up in the bathtub, jump on my bed, wear no underwear, kiss girls, cross the street without holding hands, have money (to give away to William, my adult name for bills). I can kill my ex-wife and her friend in a brutal stabbing incident, go home fill my house with blood stains, and stomp my footprints all through the blood (okay well apparently I can't but you see what I'm saying). I can stay out past the street lights coming on, heck, thats when half the fun of being an adult kicks in. Remember when alcohol tasted bad, and you thought, "how does anyone drink this mess" yeah you would...little kid. I can make up answers that I don't know to tell to kids "yes the sky is blue, only to you little Johnny, its actually magenta to the rest of us, but don't tell anyone you see a blue sky, they will deport you, and deport means fill with cement by the way" and yes I have used that one before. Im old enough to not worry about online predators. I can do anything, take a look its in a book! Rea--wait, where am I? Why would I want to be a kid again? For some mac and cheese and some fish sticks? Yeah right. 

Speaking of Reading Rainbow, remember when you were a kid right, and adults officially knew the answer to everything, yes everything. So when Levar Burton was on there telling you a book was good, why then did he always have to peddle some kids on us with his "don't take my word for it". Levar, you're obviously a respectable adult, and YOU ARE ON TV, we will believe anything you say. Who are these kids, probably nerds if they're reading, hmph, now I don't want to read the book if these lames are reading it. Okay, now I really have no idea what I was talking about. hold on let me scroll up.

Right right, my birthday. I love it, not so much the whole happy birthday thing. Yes thats cool and all but see...I can do anything, anytime anyday. So its not like when I was younger and had one day a year devoted to me. I make money, and can get the things I want. Also, as a kid getting a combined 71 dollars from relatives was a kings ransom, but apparently the dollar a year for every year you've lived caps out somewhere between 13-18. Looking back on it, 7 bucks is a lot of money at 7, whereas now 7 bucks is like, really? You cheap bastard. If someone gave me 7 bucks today, I would probably out of habit ask them if I could spend the night at my friends house. Speaking of which, when was the last time you had a sleepover? No fellas, not a one night stand, a genuine sleep over. Staying up late, sleeping bags, all that jazz, yeah, ages ago why? Cause you're an adult damnit that's why. 

Okay well I would love to keep typing, just as Im sure you would love to keep reading, but see, its my birthday, and I've got a whole lot of "anything I want" to get back to. But don't take my word for it.

 

Have a fun

So yesterday (scroll down to find the post) I was looking for a barbershop here in the big city. If you remember I was a bit skeptical after an Asian woman told me the shop she worked in could cut my lamb like hair. Wanna hear how that went? Of course you do, you're bored at work you'd pretty much read anything at this point.

I get home and in my excitement practically fly out the door to get to this shop. Well that and there were fire trucks outside my apartment and a fire alarm going off, yes that may have had something to do with me "flying". Oh I can't mention the fire alarm thing without pointing out The Lady's response to possible impending flames. Me; "babe is that a fire alarm" "nah, I'm gonna take a nap" five minutes later when I come back to wake her: "babe get up there are fire trucks out front that was the fire drill" "blah do I have to go downstairs?". At the time I didn't even seem like a big deal but in hindsight let me get this straight babe. Here we are 160 feet off the ground with possible flames beneath us however that nap is that powerful that you may forgo all that. I LOVE HER, but see now I'm off course, and I'm pretty sure you have a report due soon so let's get back to this haircut adventure.

I search for the shop and have to call again for directions. Again, same Asian lady answers, and the phone is breaking up so in a sense the conversation sounded like this.

me: YES MAAM I AM LOST, WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?

her: you--turnatlight--jump up down--kill someone-ova here--alphabet soup-germany.

yeah, no idea what was happening, but eventually she got me there. I walked in pretty eager to see what random dude was gonna cut my hair. It should be noted that in the African American community, once you select a certain barber in a shop you and he are basically wed. You will go to him, he will cut your hair, end of discussion. Regardless of how skilled you may find another barber to actually be, you stick with what you have chosen, it's kind of a tough deal, and a stab in the dark. True story, my last barber shop I walked in and went to the first open chair, only to find out he was deaf and had a glass eye. I am being so so serious. While every other barber there was basically a rembrandt with the clippers, I was there with the man who NEVER had a line. I think I was his only customer, so you can understand how important this selection was.

I had decided I was going to pick the coolest looking brother, hopefully he would have some sort of plaque that said "best barber up in here". However none of the brothers had such a sign, then I realized... there were no brothers...then I realized there were no men...then I realized there were only two barbers, both women, and both Asian.

Now is a good time to fill you in that my father is a barber, so I know much about the industry and vow to at all times keep a sharp cut. However I have only had my haircut my whole life by men, more namely negro men (even in months that aren't February). So to see neither of which about to happen to my napped up head I was pretty much thinking. Great I'm gonna look like I'm wearing a crown King of the Castle up in here.

Joon was her name, and right off the top she says "okay point to the picture you want" yep , it's gonna be a crown. I pick a picture of a latino boy as he is the darkest face on the board to which she stunningly responds "okay, you want a 1 all the way around, round in the back with pointed sideburns, ok" to which I practically passed out. She then proceeded to give me a thorough haircut complete with a straight razor for my shape up. A superb goatee trim and all sorts of other nice smelling concoctions that left me delighted.

Joon and her counterpart, whom did not speak, perhaps she too is a deaf with a glass eye. Both would say the following phrase to the customers leaving "Good bye have a fun". The first time Joon said it, I was in a baffled state of "is this lady really giving me such an amazing haircut" to which I just shrugged off the possibility that she just said "have a fun". We kicked it for the rest of the cut, she told me to tell her friends, and by the end of it all, I was in love with my new barber Joon.

Joon is my girl, Joon is my barber. I am now the proud owner of of a fresh shape up and cut. If you can "own" a haircut. Yes Joon, I indeed had a fun.

I know your mother

Recently a very close friend of mine lost her husband in a motorcycle accident. She had not been married for 18 months yet, he was a military man and they are located in Hawaii away from all friends and family, and she is three months pregnant with their first child. I had the pleasure of meeting her husband one time and could not help but to think how wonderful a fit they were. He was hilarious, kind, and didn't miss a beat with our conversation for the evening. 

The last few days I have been mostly thinking of her unborn child, and to that child I say the following. Although I may have not known your father well, I do know your mother.

I know your mother, and know that thus you are in more than capable hands. I know your mother, and know that you will be raised with the utmost of respect for not only yourself but others that you come in contact with. I know your mother, and know that you will know the real world and what it will expect of you, and what to expect of it. I know your mother and know you will have respect for women, be you a boy or a girl. I know your mother, and I know you will speak your mind to all those that will listen. I know your mother and know you will be a damn good dancer. I know your mother, and know you will be cared for, respected, well mannered, even headed, daring, and well rounded. I know your mother, and know you are to be a constant reminder of the father you will never meet. However, you should never question the amount of love present from your mother, if I had to pick any of my friends, to put a child's life in the hands of, it would easily be your mother. 

So do not feel upset, or slighted by the fact that your father may not be there. Know that if he was substantial enough to win the hand of your mother, then he was a man of great valor, character and style. A man with a sense of humor, strength and respect. Know that by knowing your mother and what she will expect, and demand of you, then you too in turn will come to know your father, and the type of man he would have been. The type of man who too, was pleased to know your mother. 

I know your mother, and you will be loved, please believe, you will be loved.

Shop Talk

I NEED A HAIRCUT-

Perhaps you may not be of Negro Male descent like me, but see, our hair is like a beard, growing out of your head,  and for those of you who shave, would you dare go 2 weeks without shaving. Ladies, apply the same analogy to your legs or under arms, would you let that hair grow for 2-3 weeks without a little shave? Yeah didn't think so.

So that's where I am. Here with a wooly head, needing a cut. As a side note it should be noted, I do not know how to shave. Not cause I am lazy, but for the simple fact that I don't grow facial hair. Well I do, but it's to level at which The Lady refers to it as a "baby beard" which technically if you saw it, it's a "baby goatee". Come to think of it, if a baby actually had a beard I might pay money to see this. Then I would be PISSED that the baby had more facial hair than me, so on second thought maybe I wouldn't be so hyped up to see a baby with a beard. I already get a little salty when I see high school kids with full beards. I just want to go buy some beer and be like HA! take that I AM AN ADULT who drinks beer, and has a job... but no beard anyway, now that I've got my pressure up just thinking about it, I still need this haircut.

So here I am, googling "black barbershops" in my area. Either they're all too far, or have too shady a name like "Parole Officer Kuts" or "Knife Kut Kingz" (note the KKK subtle joke there, which is no longer subtle as I have pointed it, but whatever, I'm a little off my game since I'm all pissed about this alleged baby with a beard). I think I've found a spot near the house and just called hoping a brother or a sister might answer the phone, yes, my actual brother or sister. Anyway I call and some Korean lady answers the phone to my surprise, to which I quickly ask her " I was wondering if you all cut black people's hair" which as I said it out loud a lot worse than when I was thinking it. She said they did and with all my excitement I'll be heading there after work. 

 However, the more I think about it, why on Earth would she have said no. "Umm nah sir, we don't cut the hair of Negroes, Russians, or Left handed Irish, says so right on the door, but we do have a special on baby beard trims"

No witty Title

I was speaking with a friend earlier today and we got to talking about the DNC. Which got me to thinking, mostly about this upcoming election, I had previously vowed not to bring my political beliefs into any of my posts but upon further review that is what they call "a stupid idea".

It is often noted, that it is rude to talk about either politics or religion in mixed company. The older I get the more foolish this rule appears to me. The religion I still understand as there are a lot of loons out there who will pray to a can of spray paint if given the opportunity, and I'm not trying to convert. As for politics, how can you not. For something that so directly affects all the citizens of a given nation how is it "rude" to discuss, how is it rude to discuss how my thoughts could affect what you pay for rent, for tax, for child care, for health care, and vice versa. How is it rude to discuss how my personal thoughts or yours could so adversely affect the other one's life...and with that being said here I stand to make a few points.

I am a 25 year old male, in a long term committed relationship who will be 26 next week. The new President will take me into being 30, if re elected, right into my mid 30's. A period of life in which most Americans get married, have children, get real jobs, purchase new vehicles, purchase their first homes, collectively an age in which a generation makes the jump from young adults, to adults. Makes the jump from learning about growing up to being grown up. Which,with that being said would make this the most important election of my young adult life.

Here we stand at the precipice of one of the largest decisions to be made by our generation, and we stand here waffling. We stand here, some how, again, confused, again not quite sure, and again torn between two candidates. 

I am amazed yet again at how great a job the Republicans have done. I tip my hat to them whole heartedly and in no cynical way what so ever to state that they have again proven to be far better politicians than the opposing Democrats. I have long since held the opinion that while Democrats have better politics, it is the Republicans who have far better politicians. Remember way back in 2004 when they such a huge debate over the war, and gay marriage. Remember the hysteria over gay marriage? The better question is, how does gay marriage affect YOUR daily life, does it make your taxes higher, your kids any less intelligent, you car any less efficient? Even as I type this I am still holding back and getting away from what I really want to say as to not be rude, well sorry, consider me rude.

This is how I truly feel, and if you disagree, I respect that.

A vote for John McCain is a bad move, period. This is the same man who ran against Bush twice, and could not beat him either time, for the Republican nomination, not in 2000 or 2004. So basically, he wasn't good enough to beat Bush, but yet he his somehow now equipped to replace him? The current President has the lowest approval rating of all time, yet it was half the nation that collectively elected him on two occasions. As bad as a President he may be, he was still elected by the people, two times. No matter how "bad" a job he is doing, mind you, McCain was still viewed as a less viable option on two separate occasions than he is for the job at hand. 

We stand here, on the cusp of a technological revolution. A day in age where cell phones, text messaging, instant messaging, social networking, viral videos and a slew of ever changing technologies are about to take us into the Jetsons era. What does it then benefit us to promote a man stuck confidently with a foot in the past, where wars last forever, and we still milk the land for the Flinstone's oil. The same man who for over a decade refused to give Martin Luther King Jr his own day. That has nothing to do with race, and more with respect. The man won a Nobel Peace Prize, a little American respect is in order. 

His opponent is 25 years his junior, has children aged 7 and 10. He knows, and will know the real world in which so many of us actually live. He is more indicative of the American lifestyle, a man of mixed background from a single family home who has climbed to a place of stature and has no qualms with telling it how it is and shooting straight. 

We are not to be bettered by continuing in the same direction. We are not to progress ourselves by supporting a way that has gotten us here. We can not and will not get any further doing exactly what we have done. While so much is made about experience, I offer this. You can't understand what it is like to be a parent, till you have a kid, you can't understand what it's like to be pregnant till you are. You can't understand or comprehend a lot of American activities until you are thrown in a position to do it. John McCain has been on Capitol Hill  for 26 years, thrice vying for this coveted position, each time, his own people shot him down. 

His opponent, please if you would listen is offering us an awesome opportunity, an awesome chance to do something new, something we could hang our heads high about. If you have ever travelled out of the country then you would know that a majority of the world hates us for your bully strong arm tactics.  Please please use your brain, and don't vote McCain.

Express Lane

Here I am all proud of myself. Making a little money, getting a salary, feeling good about myself and what not. I must admit it is a good feeling to have money in the bank. For those of you not so accustomed to living a life in which you live are not accustomed to ever living from check to check, stop reading and go milk your parents for some more money. Anyway here I am all excited to be stacking loot buying lavish gifts, bathing myself in fine oils and and decorative ornaments. But alas, I should have known it was too good to be true. 

Grocery shopping my friends, is quickly setting itself up to be the death of me. Last night The Lady and I went for our third or fourth trip to the grocery store, this time the damage was a mere $175 dollars. First time we went it was in excess of $200 and there have been a few little baby excursions here and there. Nonetheless, long story shirt, I hate it. It should be noted that I have spent my whole life living as an only child bachelor, when it comes to buying groceries even when I stopped being an only child, and also even when I stopped being a bachelor. I just like to buy what I'd like to eat in about ten minutes, or whatever else is bright. Thank Jesus for my Lady.

If it weren't for her I would spend $500 dollars on beer, kettle corn, cotton candy, and pork rinds. To further appreciate that joke, you should probably know this, I hate kettle corn, cotton candy, and pork rinds. Which would leave me with only beer, again read last sentence of previous paragraph. So here we are walking the aisles with me repeatedly asking "babe can we get this ?" followed by a dismissive "no babe" it pretty much reached a point where I was only at "babe can-" before she hit me with the "no".  Personally I think she was being a little too quick to shoot down my eating dreams. I mean come on, what man my age doesn't deserve some freeze dried salami flavored waffles, or some tapicoa flavored vita water on sale 2 for $3.oo. I am a growing man damnit! Honestly that's how they get me. Anything that is more than one for a supposed "discount" price I'm gonna jump on it. "Oh look babe sure we can be cheapies and get one for $2.00 but we could just as easily get four of them for $17.00, looks pretty cut and dry to me babe" to which she will normally inform me again of the fact that we do not own a pet, and thus do not need ANY pet toys regardless the deal. I'm pretty sure I would buy some Kotex if the deal was good enough (excuse me for a second while I check the receipt to make sure that didn't happen)

So we ended up sticking to her plan, salads, tuna fish, ground beef, milk, orange juice etc, apparently these things are "staples", whatever, straight whatever. After an 1.5 hours of getting all this mess we end up at the check out counter, and in an effort to keep my good mood I wont even mention how laborious that ordeal was. Is it wrong of me to think they should just make the check out a race type set up. Even better, if it was a racially motivated race. The check out could be real simple white cashiers help white customers, blacks help blacks, hispanics help hispanics and so on and so forth. See, then the faster you go as a customer the more of a discount you get, and the quicker your cashiers are cashing you out the more points they could get towards a raise. See this way everyone wins. No, I am not some bigot, I just know that since The Lady and I bring two races to the table we could split up into two lanes, get double savings and be out twice as fast, so maybe when you put it like that, only her and I would win, not everyone. Oh well, my game my rules, wait, what was I even talking about. Who knows, I'm hungry and all I've got is kettle corn... well time for some fast food.

The More you Know

So I'm listening to this podcast that I often listen to, and today's webisode is people talking about being dumped and the pain/comedy that ensues. The lady speaking right now just said something which got me to thinking, which in turn got me to writing, which in turn is getting you to reading.

She was making a joke/point about how after she got dumped, and was heartbroken she made it a point to listen to cheesy sappy love songs. She noted that she had no idea how many love songs there were out there till everyone she seemingly went she heard every single one of them. Grocery stores, elevators, Starbucks, (insert a long list of public places that play songs here). Which, if you have ever been dumped, it's okay I wont tell, you do know exactly what she means. 

Anyway it got me to thinking how interesting and unfolding life can be like that. Is it just me or does anyone else ever notice that the more you start to learn, or experience or go through, the more you can appreciate the world around you? Take for example the young lady who had been dumped, she can now have a better appreciation for the so called cheesy nature of love songs. Yet in actuality they are not so much as cheesy as they are true, until you are the one who has been hurt. For example, personally, each time I see the FedEx logo I immediately notice the arrow in the logo (hit me up if you need me to point it out to you...its between the e and x in the white space that connects them google image it). The point is not that I shamelessly will plug FedEx and Google in my blog, but just to more or less mention how much I truly love learning new little things, and sometimes bigger things about the world we occupy. 

I'm not even sure I can properly put into words exactly what it is I am trying to say, and if it is coming across as a babblish rant, sorry. What I suppose I'm getting at is that, life is fun, I truly enjoy it, and am enamored with the prospect of learning new things, experiencing new things, both fun and sad. I take great pride in experience as it is the pushing force that essentially makes life exciting. 

I seriously could keep going but my little sister just texted me, she had her high school orientation today and just wants to know..."hey what is Homecoming? the girls giving the tour today kept talking about it"

Remember when you didn't know what homecoming was? Soon enough she will know, and soon enough she will have a crush on an older boy, soon enough she will love, and be loved, and soon enough she will have her heartbroken, and shortly there after her brother will be there to support her and point her to the nearest public place where they play cheesy sappy music. 

But for now, it's just Homecoming

Ethiopian Cab Drivers?

So yesterday I decided to get out and explore the lay of the land a little. Been in the apartment a lot and just wanted to get out and check things out. I figured I should go to the most ethnic spot I could find near by just post up and read and take in my surroundings, so off to Starbucks I went.

I guess I should point out that I never go to Starbucks and not because of some deep rooted "I hate corporate America" mumbo jumbo, no I never go to Starbucks simply because I do not drink coffee. Although if there was a survey I would have to admit to a deep dislike of corporate America, anyway. 

So off I trek to Starbucks, by the way, have you any idea how difficult it is to order something from there if you aren't a coffee drinker. Note to self, look for new place to watch people. Anyway I settled on a protein drink, with the consistency of clay (which was gross) and some brownie muffin with a fancy name, that, was pretty good. Posted up in the corner and just read a little, but mostly did my best to look like not so creepy, new to the area guy watching people in a public place... like a creepy guy. From my not creepy observations I noticed a ton, just a straight up ton of men all deep in some sort of exciting conversation, they laughed the spoke eloquently, they debated, all in all it was a good time for them. However all in all it was in some other language, and I had no idea what ethnicity they were. Honestly, I was baffled. They looked black like me, but not 100% but they didn't look Indian either, I really was lost, and had no idea what they were speaking. I quickly ruled out the possibility that it was English, well, cause I speak that, and ruled out Gibberish, as I am a keen speaker of such, which I've never taken a class for but my Grandmother often has told me. "Boy you're speaking nothing but Gibberish again" although I don't know what it sounds like, I would assume I would recognize it, seeing as I speak it and all.

The fun and merriment continued for a little over an hour, me never actually understanding them, but also never blowing my cover as a semi creepy guy watching people. I was wrapping up and noticed that all the men (15-25 coming and going) wore business shirts and slacks and khakis, but a lot of them wore flip flops, sandals or tennis shoes. Which was confusing the life out of me. Were they all business men... who wore open toed shoes? or just really over dressed sanitation employees... who again, wore open toed shoes. I pretty much was getting a little baffled, ad my creepy guy level was probably increasing as I drank my play doh energy drink and was down right squinting at these men to figure something out about them. With that being all the Starbuck fun I could take for one night I wrapped it up and headed home. (where The Lady and I had our first spat, which is all cleared up now thank you, I'll discuss later, read: sometime next week when I can put an objective level of hindsight humor into it but anyway back to the original post, cause this is a really long parenthesis)

I pretty much had decided to go again tonight with The Lady, to see the flock of kinda black like me, open toed, dressed up, non english speaking guys to see if her detective skills could be of assistance. Until, I got to the office and was just recapping my adventure to my co-workers when one of them said in a matter of fact way. "You know that Starbucks right by where you live is apparently a large gathering spot for Ethiopian Cab Drivers". 

You don't say.

This should be noted

I'm going to get right to the point on this one.

I hate reality television. I feel as though there isn't one show of the genre I have ever seen that in any way shape or form was funny, enlightening, entertaining, or as some would say "worth a damn". I especially loathe the ones with contestants who are competing in a house for some sort of monetary prize. The whole concept drives me insane, "friends" forced to live together and describe their events to some camera man as if it happened days ago when in actuality it just happened 15 minutes prior. Imagine if every 45 minutes your boss made you come into the office to discuss, on camera, everything you had just done and what made you do it. No wonder these people are going crazy and bugging on each show, a lot of people don't know this, but they don't put tv's or radio's in those houses, thus forcing the people to interact more often, and thus create more "drama". 

Where in lies the drama of people sitting around voting one another out of a home, or eliminating each other for some random job, or the affection of some total stranger. Ohhh and don't even get me started on the shows that just follow someone (or a family) around, edit it, and call it a show. What in the damnit are doing here people? This is what most people would call being lazy, there are no plot lines to these shows, as we watch them go run errands and to the stores, shop with friends and buy things we could never afford, or break up with boyfriends, leave drunk messages, and gossip. When did we reach the point in which watching other people do nothing constitutes as actually doing something? 

That's all I wish to say on the topic, though I could add more it would progressively get angrier and the night is young so I'd rather not get all worked up over nothing...or something for that matter.

How to hit on a woman

Okay so here's a quick little how to I felt obliged to write on after seeing a miserable attempt on the bus this morning.

In no way do I consider myself a Casanova, however I do understand the most basic of human interactions. So I'm on the bus this morning and a very pretty woman gets on the bus and right behind her was this guy who had apparently been hitting on her at the stop and decided to keep it up on the bus...much to my delight.

Ole girl sits down and my man sits right across from her (strike one, don't hover). He apparently keeps their "conversation" from the stop going in which he's asking her about her profession. "So what, you're into advertising and shit?" (yeah, I'm gonna need you to not refer to her job as "and shit") I will admit her politeness was quite the gesture, I figured for a sister she was gonna snap at my man, but no she let him keep going, again, to my delight. Oh, perhaps now is as good a time as any to point out that she was dressed nicely in a tan business suit with some serious heels on, while Thug Mammal No.4 was wearing cut off jeans, yes cut offs, apparently he was auditioning for the part of Incredible Hulk, a flannel shirt unbuttoned with a white t, book bag,  and the most tattered Redskins hat of all time, oh that's right, and a skate board. Which leads me to wonder, why ride the bus if you already have a skateboard, are you gonna catch a ride to then...go ride? 

Anyway Thug Mammal No. 4 and his skateboard continue further with his attempts. Somewhere between babbling something about "damn gurl you got it" "what stop you getting off at" she managed to drop her politeness and start to give him, the scowl. Again, gentlemen you want to steer clear of telling a woman she has anything so ambiguous, women do not like getting or having anything unless they asked or planned  for it, read: weight, kids, engagement rings, or TM No 4's with skateboards, and also you don't just ask where people live not in this being the easy to stalk era. 

Needless to say, at some point I could no longer contain myself and blatantly started laughing at the situation. Which to some might seem bold, but see, I have been practicing my "get out of my face" face (bear with me, it's a working title) a practiced stare that fends off birds, children, old white women and most notably strangers in public. So when ole boy gave me a look that said partly who are you, and partly wanna ride my skate board. I shot him a glance that said wholly "don't start" and "no thanks I'm not into skate boards". For whatever reason, the shenanigans came to an end and he leapt from the bus at the next stop and scurried off into the horizon cut off jeans in tact.

Okay so perhaps this wasn't as much as a how to as a brief replay of my hilarity early this morning maybe I should put a more in depth how to together.

Great Open Spaces

In a town so big there remains one place to go where you can get total quiet regardless of what may be going on in the outside world, and that place my friends, is an elevator. I live on the 16th floor of a 26 story apartment complex, and it continues to amaze me how quickly people will stop everything they are doing to not talk in an elevator. Maybe its because in actuality you are in a lit closet dropping hundreds of feet with total strangers, being kept alive only by your faith in an elaborate pulley system. Yes, a pulley system, for those of us public school kids that would fall under the category of simple machine. For those of you private school kids, let me borrow some money.

Everyday I board the elevator and plummet 160 feet to the ground floor with total strangers of various backgrounds, all of us eager to not speak, or make eye contact. Come to think of it, elevators might be the most anti-social facet of American culture. Here we stand doing our best to look at the ground and at the random mirror thats in all elevators, note, its only there to make it look bigger. Though lately I have my suspicions that there may be a camera on the other side, but maybe that's a little paranoia. Anyway, here we fall, quietly and staring at the ground, when if you think about it, perhaps we should be a tad more jovial, considering what's at stake. I mean, if the cable, from the aforementioned elaborate pulley was to not do its job, speaking of which, what is the active verb for what a pulley does? Would it be pulleying, pulleyaing maybe ? sorry, okay so if the pulley were to not pullify and we all fell to our demise, how silly would it be to go out in silence. At least we could have the decency to shriek and carry on with our new best friends.

Which is why I've been making it my sole purpose to be the most jovial person ever on an elevator, I been starting with a ritual of shaking everyones hand, pressing the button for their floor, whistling songs, quoting shakespeare, handing out moist towelettes, (side note I spelled towelette right on the first try no red underline ) whatever it takes to get the ice broken, mind you this has led to my photo being plastered all over the apartment offering a ransom for my bounty. Okay so perhaps I made that up, not the part about the spelling towelette right on the first try though. Anyway the elevator is a trip I actually do look forward to riding it with strangers and making them slightly nervous by standing juuust a little too close, not close enough that i'll get tazed, but close enough that I can read the "is this guy serious" look on their face.

Oh the simplicities that make me smile

Get on Sir!!

Auggh so much involved with moving in and getting furninture and learning the new area, sorry again for delayed posts.

But alas, I have started taking the bus to work, and while this may be old hat to some, this is brand new living to me, and by brand new I mean totally foreign and slightly exciting. So the job will pay $120 a month towards my monthly commute, after some leg work I have figured the cheapest route is bus travel. Though it should be noted my leg work was initially driving to work every day and paying $10 dollars to park in a garage. Also I assumed I could beat the system by parking in surrounding neighborhoods in the free 2 hour spots moving my car every few hours, that was a smashing failure, to the tune of a $45 dollar ticket the first day I tried. So bus it is my friends.

Yesterday was my first day, and you would have thought I was a third grader getting ready for the first day of school. I went online figured my route and marched on the bus stop, home made lunch in hand, turkey sandwich and pepperoni to be exact. Standing, ever so valiantly, on the wrong side of the road, at the wrong stop, fortunately I noticed my error in time, jogged across the street and stood patiently. Now the bus shows up there's a guy talking to bus driver and I make the foolish assumption that he is getting off the bus...no no no he's just up there talking for talking sake. So while I wait at the door trying to be patient, I must look like some out of town bumpkin to the bus driver, a freshly bald shaved black woman with HUMUNGOUS star earrings who so kindly shouts to me, GET ON THE BUS SIR. I practically leap the three steps to get on and forget to pay, then I get all nervous that I'm going to get kicked off. So while I sit there I'm trying to figure a way to put my money in the meter, but I'm so nervous as to not step across the 'do not step across"  yellow line. So I just sit there on the edge of my seat in my own little world of paranoia, between the need to pay, the ever so mean bus driver and old guy still talking to her, the moving my car every few hours option isn't looking so bad.

I finally get the courage to leap forward jam my $1.35 into the receiver and sit back down, practically out of breath and kind of proud of myself. Then it dawns on me that, this is not the same way I drive to work, now I'm bugging, I keep looking for familiar signs, stores etc, nothing, and by the way, I have the strong feeling that I may be the only one on the bus who speaks only English. After another 7 agonizing minutes the bus gets back on ground I'm used to, see apparently buses have to pick up other people and this requires going through neighborhoods and stopping at apt complexes, ahhh wise ploy, in my haste to use public transport I forgot about the other 2.4 million people in the area who might need to get around as well.  Finally I get to the "drop spot" aka bus stop but admit it drop spot does make it sound cooler, so there I am at the drop spot which is only a mere 6 blocks away from the office, after a brisk walk I arrive to work, sweaty, baffled, and only 45 minutes late...tomorrow I decide to take an earlier bus.

My Disclaimer

I sometimes (read sometimes as 80% of the time) feel as though I have to come across nicer and softer than is needed. By the way, if you're against black man rants now would be an opportune time to find something else to do, and no I will not be blaming the man for anything, okay, back to what I was saying...

Unfortunately we live in a world whereas people who look similar to me get arrested for crimes, make videos and songs about crimes, play video games about crimes, all in all its a crime based mentality. See, but there in lies my dilemma, I personally am not really a crime guy. I like to live the "legal life" as I have come to call it. Which basically means, I do things like, go to work, go home, don't break laws, whistle while I walk etc. I do however love a good song about breaking laws, or a movie where breaking laws is the principal theme, so in that regard...hells yeah I'm into crime. 

See, and since this form of communication is all font, you do not have the luxury of knowing that I, at times, have a rather deep voice, a voice that carries, and can be intimidating. On top of that I can get pretty passionate about things I'm really into, it would suffice to say I have been kicked out of lectures, events, speeches etc for getting "too loud" with my opinions. So over the years I have been training myself to curb my enthusiasm.

So I find myself, often trying to bust my butt to make sure I am coming across as a friendly non crime loving soft voiced ally. ESPECIALLY in the working world, anytime I make a comment or get animated about things, I have to quickly follow it with, "we are friends", or if I disagree with someone, Ill have to chase it with "now, I'm not attacking you or anything but...". Mostly cause I know that I run the risk of intimidating them all real quick. Its actually hilarious, to me, cause there is a certain point when I'm getting animated in which I can see the look on peoples face go from, "hes making a good point" to "oh no, he might maim me". In which I for about 2 seconds think, you punk, followed quickly by "but you know Im not arguing with you". My mother often tells me...boy you got to bring it down, people don't know how to respond to the scary black man...oh yes they do... tazers baby.

So more or less I would like to just say, no, I am not a ranting raving loon, on the tip of a crime spree middle american peers and cohorts. But alas I am merely a wise sage, filled with the gift of animation, and the ability to command a room with my mere presence, my deepest apologies God did not bless you with the same abilities and no, I will not cower down to make you feel more adequate, less threatened, comfortable, or at ease. As my crime loving counterparts might say "get on my level".

...but you know I'm not talking to you right, cause, well, we're friends.

Adult world...where 9pm bedtime happens

Sorry for the long delay between postings, was back home for the weekend and moving in...but moving on.

I could, in theory, make one long post here about everything on my mind, but as I've been told, some of you are at work when reading this so I'll break them up. Let me first say a few things about the working/office world that me and some of my buddies have started to notice.

Adults, love meetings, absolutely love them, why? because meetings give you an excuse not to work. I have come to find out that half the fun of a salaried job is to successfully figure out how to fill in your co-workers on your last meeting while simultaneously keeping them in awe of your upcoming meetings. See in the work world, a meeting is the equivalent of a college guys post bar hook up. "Dude, you totally won't believe the 3 hour power point I just nailed, had that thing up on the wall, everyone in the room was jealous, and don't even get me started on my word docs everyone was trying to get their hands on...". Needless to say meetings actually keep you from doing your actual job, which surprising to me, is often the least of anyones concern. The main objective of work is to appear to being doing something, hence always bragging about your UPCOMING hook up-er meeting. "Yeah I got this tight little overnighter coming up with the accounting division, shooot you know it's gonna keep me up all night, probably gonna need a few Red Bulls, get jealous". 

One might be inclined to think that the average work week could be condensed to a 30 hour format. However I honestly think that what happens is people get out of college and get adult jobs and become fascinated with the idea of "playing grown up" and secretly take joy in going through all of the intricacies they have spent years watching their parents go through and years training formally (college). We get excited with buying suits, new pumps, neck ties, cashmere vests, office friendly skirts etc. And for the first year or two love to tell family and friends that we, after years of practice, have landed a job, yet in actuality having a job more or less means, a place to go from 9ish to 5ish, a place where we can remain and eagerly wait to go join our friends and our real true love, the couch.

Over time you stumble from the "playing grown up" phase and quickly cross into the threshold of "larvae grown up/young pessimist". A stage easily noticed by your desire to gripe about everything from music not being as good as it was, to fashion quickly changing, to gas prices, to God knows what (think of this as your adult life terrible twos) in short, you and your buddies gripe about everything, and you love to gripe. Don't worry I spend 74% of my time griping, and oh how I wish it could be 75% but I've got to eat and sleep. Soon after its full fledged "pouty adult" mode in which you have reached the zenith, and nothing is as good as it once was, food tastes worse, kids aren't as smart, oh the list goes on. Needless to say, I have come to the opinion that from birth to death we just progressively get more things we take joy in not having joy in. If that makes any sense.

And am I the only person who feels as though staying up till Jay Leno comes on is almost an accomplishment? Damn I used to think Conan was a great show, now I don't even know if it still comes on, I find myself, after work, thinking...whew what a day, time to kick back and relax and go gripe about some stuff on the news. Next thing I know I'll be dead sleep and baffled as to why no one bothered to tuck me in, and crabby about it. I think I'm just gonna start setting my house clocks three hours fast so I feel like I'm still cool, but then again what would I have to complain about then

yesterday's today show

Watch this, before continuing

Okay, now that you've seen that, here are some questions. First of all, there has got to be an easier way to tell your parents you are gay besides sassing the ladies of the Today show, during your cooking segment. Secondly, I love the way Kathie Lee Griffin takes it so serious like she's got some serious weight at the station. "they've been around a long time cause they don't talk to us like that!" mmm you tell him girl. For those of ya'll that don't keep up she was the one on the show with Regis before they got tired of her, and politely asked her to resign. So, for the record, someone does talk to you that way. On top of that, she's on during the Today show's last hour, the hour when the only people still watching are the kids who stayed home sick from school, and the old ladies wondering when Murder She Wrote is coming on. Don't really have much else to add on that one, it was funny to me, thought I would share....I've got to take a shower but while I get clean, how bout you ponder this for a second. 

I found out the very wrong way today that if a place sells more than one type of food, like ohhh I don't know, lets say for example. "George's" on 14th and Florida in Northwest D.C and carries on the menu, crab legs, won ton soup, salmon steaks, gyros, subs, macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, bacon and eggs, and moo goo guy pan,  all cooked on the same grill... and everything on the menu is under 9 dollars, and the store has a straight up American name, with nothing but ESL's (english as a second language) working there, with bullet proof glass, and a .25 cent charge on all debit card transactions, and a delivery boy that comes in with plastic bags on both his hands, your meal just MIGHT, have no business in your stomach, and believe you me, your stomach will let you know in the most vigorous of ways. 

welcome to D.C 

it just made me think of git r done

so here is to retract my previous post about The Lady's family. Her family is not a bunch of banjo playing fools, they are a very 21st century family, good time having people. So to anyone who may have been misled...don't be.

(I am on the phone with The Lady right now, her exact words were "babe people are gonna think my family is all redneck" "when I read it, it made me think of git r done" followed by her screaming at me DO NOT PUT THAT IN YOUR BLOG)

she loves me

do i need a candle holder?

For whatever reason, whenever walking down the street, all black men will greet other black men that they pass, be it with a nod, a "what up", "my man" etc. However after a few days in D.C I have noticed that there are quite a few other greetings mixed in the Negro lexicon, I was not so aware of.

I grew up middle class, and have no delusions of being some pseudo thug, or a big city cast away like so many of my fellow counterparts. So some parts of the new city are taking me by surprise. Take for example, the fact that there is apparently some city wide staring contest going on between all black men, of which I must have not gotten here too late to register for. Needless to say, just about every black man I come across finds it necessary to engage me in said contest. Oh, and apparently there is a housing shortage in D.C because damn, there are quite a few brothers on the street. With varying degrees of ways to ask for cash, ranging from "yo yo bro, got some spare change" this approach is entirely flawed. See from a marketing stand point, you've got to set your goals higher, that way you can at least work your way down. I bet if they came straight off the top with "yo yo, bro, you got 783 dollars I could hold?" . You might be inclined to think, whoa, this brother's got some stuff he needs to get taken care of, 783 is such an exact number, heck I could help a little with that, what the heck, here's 5 bucks, or at least .78 cents. On the other hand, you start asking for change, people already thinking "what the heck, are you gonna do with some change? what, are you collecting 50 state quarters? cause if so, all I got is New Hampshires, and I know you don't want one, speaking of which, what the hell are you doing collecting quarters when you need to be getting a job....See, its all in the marketing, but again, I digress.

There is another set of homeless, the one's with severe mental issues, to whom I have a great deal of compassion, and find it a sad state of affairs, that in the city where some of the most powerful men in the world, politically, can sleep with interns and make billion dollar underhanded hand shakes, mere miles away these folks can be forced to live like this, shames me to be American. Yet, there remains one set, of homeless that in my brief stay has left an indelible mark on me. That would be the "creatively lucid" crowd, or more commonly known as the crack heads. Just today, a creative lucid asked me if I wanted to buy his goldfish, mind you the goldfish did exist it was in a bag full of water, never mind how he got this gold fish, just know that he was willing to sell it. See, I'm no idiot, and I know he didn't wake up with that gold fish, which means someone earlier today, gave him this fish, and now look at him, what does he do with it, sit on the curb and try to auction it off, heck no am I going to give you anything, for all I know you'll be peddling it in 5 hours, and as I said, all I've got anyway is some New Hampshire quarters. So between the staring contest and goldfish peddlers, we somehow have no more time for the simple head nod I am so accustomed to, I'm baffled and lost. It's stained in my skull to do the nod, but now my mind is overwhelmed with two new default responses, the look away, and the "nah man". I still have trouble with both and sometimes end up looking away and saying nah man, which actually led someone to give me a gold fish thinking I was talking to myself (not really). It's a lot to be running through my head while just trying to find somewhere to eat during lunch, and just when I thought I was starting to get a grasp on things, right before I walked inside the apartment, some old brother on a bike across the street just hollered at me "YOUNGBLOOD, youngblood, you need a candle holder...?"(yes really) wait, what? Rather than answer, look away, nod, or stare, I just gave him a New Hampshire quarter.

ahhh welcome to big people world.

Black in America and other thoughts

Some thoughts while this conference call zaps my brain.

So last week CNN ran their "Black in America" special, and the general under current of feedback I got back from my black friends was primarily negative. With people saying that they felt the shows were too negative, and/or they didn't say anything black folks didn't already know or say behind closed doors. However when speaking with my non black friends, it seemed to come across as an informative, shocking, and disturbing piece of news.

To which got me thinking, first of all, black folks were not the target audience for that show, as a black in America, why would one be led to think that 5-6 hours worth of a CNN special would teach you anything that an entire life's worth of lessons would not. Secondly, we as a people have not done a well enough job of conveying our relevance as an entity to mainstream America. We still come across as a group of people hell bent on killing each other, and complaining about our lack of opportunities. In no way am I trying to negate that at times we are, or have been given less than equal playing ground. However, we have struggled out of the gates, and are now still by and large, seen as "them" and not quite "us" in regards to American culture. We have yet to embrace the fact that we are Americans, we too deserve to be taken seriously and until we take ourselves seriously then who else will. We too are America, this is black in america.

This, and this, and this and this, are black in america. There is no shame of being Black in America, and we should not have to pander to the lowest denomination or belittle ourselves with jokes of bad credit, and fathering a million kids, or being able to dance, and jive all the time. We should boast, that we too are America, and heck, I say that as someone proud of my heritage, if you are reading this and are not black, you get your happy hips around some knowledge and learn about your people too. America is a melting pot, and should be treated as such, everyone here came on a boat, and if you didn't, we killed you when we got here, and shipped you to a reservation in South Dakota.

Speaking of which, are you aware that Native Americans have one of the highest alcoholic rates in the country, and are 5 times more likely to die from a booze related incident than other races. How else would you cope with being a people based on sharing, and using the earth who are run off by greedy who have spent the last 500 years pillaging what you so deeply cherished. Bottoms up.

So to those of us, who were not impressed with the CNN special, remember, it wasn't for you. For those that were, good, now go text your black friend and tell him hello (if I get any hello texts I'll be heated...not cause I got it, because my white friends better have at least two of me by now) on that note, I'm gonna go google myself...

...okay just googled myself and nothing. However there is a new search engine that just debuted today, called www.cuil.com pronounced "cool" its actually made by former google staffers, and I searched myself on it and found some stuff. Google you have been dethroned. I'm a simple man, appeal to my vanities and you got me

black power...that was for you babe