Ya Pissin Me Off

Random things that irritate me:

- Smokers outside of my major building and every other building on campus
If you want to smoke, fine. Don't stand your ass 3 feet from the door and pollute everyone's lungs who walks by...

- White dress shoes after Labor Day.
I cannot STAND this!! Put that shit away. You get a chance to wear white from Easter to Labor Day. After that, put that shit away! It looks incredibly tacky for you to walk outside when there is 2 feet of snow on the ground and your shoes blend it. If I was somewhere that didn't have such noticable seasons I might not care. But this is the Midwest, invest in some dark shoes.

- White people who are surprised that I know (and live with) both of my parents.
Yes, it is possible for Black people to love each other and stay together. And there is NOTHING more beautiful than Black love.

-When people who learn my major automatically assume they know my career goals.
Them: Hey, what's your major?
Me: English.
Them: Cool, so you're going to teach, right?
Me: GrRrrRr!!!

- Downloads with screams in the background.
Downloading is wrong... Kiss my ass. I have over 250 CDs, I'm an avid supporter of the music industry. But I'll be damned if I buy an entire CD just for the one "Shake Dat Ass Hoe" track that I like to hear on my way to the club. So I spend a few days looking for it online. Finally I find it. As the bar nears 100%, I get excited and start dancing to the song in my head. About 40 seconds in the track I hear Exclusiiiiive!!!! You ain't NEVER heard this before! Neeeeew Track from (insert artist name here)!!! Fuckin' up my groove...Plus when you want to stunt at a red light (don't act like I'm the only negro that turns the music up at a light on the way to the club), you just look silly when the DJ is screaming in the back.

- When folks say they don't read
WTF?? Without hitting you with the "people died so that we could read" reasoning, why the fuck don't you read? How in the hell do you obtain information? You do understand that TV does not tell the entire truth, right? And that sometimes they neglect to mention the story at all? So why the hell don't you pick up something and read it???!!

- Folks who ALWAYS second guess you
Ya'll know these people. The ones who you tell it's snowing outside and although it's mid-January and -20 degrees outside, they say "You lyin!! No, I'm not, why the hell would I lie about something so mundane. I don't know if that's a habit or what, but take that bullshit back where you got it from, it's irritating.

- Folks who pull, pat or plain ole touch my hair
Stop! Stop! Stop! Yes, I know my hair is big, soft and fluffy. It may remind you of a slice of heaven. Do not fuckin touch! Contrary to popular belief, my hair CAN get out of place and when you "pat" the fro like you've seen in videos, it doesn't shape it, it smashes my shit. Hands off!

- Clocks
It seems no matter what clock I set my watch to, it will ALWAYS be 5 minutes late by another clock. Fuck time. The shit starts when I get there.

- Mittens
I see no reason anyone past the age of 6 should be wearing mittens. Them shits are uncomfortable and just plain silly looking.





Something that doesn't bother me: Folks I love being blessed to see another birthday HAPPY BIRTHDAY MA!!!

While the Blood is Still Warm in Your Veins

Today I attended the funeral of my friend Patrick's parents. Or, should I say homecoming celebration. This was the happiest funeral we've ever been to. These people were truly rejoicing over the lives led and the fact that they departed on to heaven. We went there solely to support Patrick. When we saw him, he was smiling, laughing and carrying on like the Patrick we all know. He wasn't inappropriate or overly joyful, he just wasn't sad. Not at all how you would expect someone to act who has just lost both of their parents. We chalked it up to the reality not sinking in or him trying to put up a strong front for us.

So we walked into the church, or rather we stood at the door. It was so packed. It was a line like a brand new club was opening. I mean, people were spilling out of the doors left and right. I'm guessing there were 2000 people there. The church seated 1196, and there were no seats left, an entire choir, people standing in the back and mad folks in the hallways. Finally, we get close enough to see the sanctuary and we hear the choir singing. We look and see who's leading the choir in song and it turns out to be Patrick's brother. This boy (and I say that, because he is a mere 20) was up there praising the Lord and singing like it was an average Sunday service and not a double funeral for his mother and father. When we finally get seated, he was leading the choir in a song called "Praise is What I Do." This was the only time in the entire service when a tear made it's way to my eye. This young man was up there, right behind two giant pictures of his departed parents singing these words:

Praise is who I am
I'll praise Him while I can
Through the good and through the bad
Through the loss of my mother
and my dad

That hit home. That is when I really realized that if I ever lost both of my parents, they would have to lock me away somewhere. Yet, he was up here singing to the Lord and telling everyone that he and the family were alright because they were prepared and know where their parents went. His 15 year old sister was in the choir stand with him. She didn't shed a tear the entire time. She's only 15. I couldn't believe it.The entire ceremony, I kept my eye on Patrick to see how he reacted. He sat there with the most peaceful look on his face through the entire ceremony. He stood when it was proper, smiled at the memories and shouted when people came to Christ. If it was a front, it was a damned good one. If I was him, the moment someone mentioned the plane crash that claimed their lives, I would have fallen to pieces. Yet the entire family, the entire church family (Patrick's parents were co-pastors) and friends were so at peace.

The reason I wrote about this is because like I said, it's truly the first homegoing CELEBRATION that I've attended. There is no way if I lost both of my parents I would be able to speak, much less sing. There would be no consoling me. I say believe in God, but if my faith were truly strong, I would be able to rejoice in my soul when someone departs from this life. I wouldn't feel any sadness. I wouldn't think of it as a "loss" because when you lose something, you don't know where it is, and my faith would tell me EXACTLY where their final resting place was. But the flesh being in me is SO selfish. I would be so hurt thinking of how they were snatched away from me. How I wasn't ready. How I had so much more to tell them, to do with them. How I still need them. But the family realized it's not when they were ready to let go, it's when He was ready to call them home. I admire their strength and their trust in the Lord. I admire them for not questioning when He chose to call their parents back so soon. I admire them for not breaking down when they realized that 3 of them are under the age of 21 and no longer have parents to provide for them. Their faith seems unwavering, and although there will undoubtably be times of sadness when it sinks in that Dad's not there to ask, and Mom's not there to call, I believe that they will lean on each other and on their beliefs to make it through. That's faith and love. That's something I'm working on having more abudantly in my life.

Rest in Peace Pastors Armour and Shirley Stephenson. I didn't know you personally, but I know that through your children and the many people you were spritual parents to, your legacy of Godly love lives on.

This Bitch is Sick!!

I am a punk. Wait, now. Before you start thinking of all types of plans to get over on me, let me explain. I'm a straight punk when it comes to being sick. I absolutely hate to feel under the weather. The slightest bit of a sniffle and I put all extracurricular activites on hold. Going to the club at 11 pm? Not if I just sneezed at 10:30. My ass will be in the house. (For further proof, refer to the ending of Ain't That a Bitch?? to see how I avoid being sick.)

I tend to stay in for a number of reasons. First off, I never have much fun when I am sick. There are some people who are able to momentarily put aside their sickness for a good time. Not my ass, I'll be in the corner somewhere, sneezing and coughing and feeling like the world will end while my homegirl is on the floor droppin that shit like it's a 4 alarm fire. Not my idea of a good time. Secondly, I like to share my germs as infrequently as possible. I think it's plain rude to come to a place where you know healthy folks will be chillin' and invade the shit with your nasty ass sickly monsters. Keep that shit to yourself. I don't care if you cover your mouth every time you cough, we will probably eventually use the same doorknob, touch the same bar, or (if it's a good night) swing around the same pole. *wink* Thirdly, I cannot concentrate for SHIT when I'm sick. I rarely get severely sick anymore, but when I do, it's BAD. And when I get sick, I cannot concentrate on anything but trying to live. Listen to what the professor is droning on and on about? Forget it. I'm concentrating on how to make my congested lungs continue taking in air! Shaking it fast on some young man? Uh uh. I'm plotting a plan on how to supress coughs that feel like the next one will bring up a liver!

Seeing as I am considerate, I (perhaps naively) expect other people to be the same way.

But nawwwww.....

These suckas (read: white folk) don't let anything short of a recent amputation stop them from going anywhere. Example:
Today in my Political Science class, I'm trying to be all dedicated student-ish and listen to the lecture, when I hear this incessant coughing coming from the left side. It wasn't a "some water went down the wrong pipe" type cough either. This shit was nasty, you could hear the sick monster slime in every hack. So, I glance at the chick out of the corner of my eye and see that not only does she have a ROLL of gawwdamn toilet paper, she has about 15 cough drop wrappers strewn all over the desk. That tells me that she was prepared. This cough/cold wasn't some shit that decided to sneak up and attack her on the way to class. No, this was some shit she brought a roll of toilet paper (a rather inconvienient thing to carry, I might add) and an entire bag of cough drops (which she HAD to go somewhere to buy...I don't care, nobody should have more than a few leftover cough drops in their possession at a time. This bitch had a whole bag.) to defend. Premeditated infection of the masses. That shit ought to be a federal charge. If you know that you are sick at least an hour before you are scheduled to be at an event, but you proceeded to go anyway, yo' ass WILL be hit with this charge.

Stay yo' sick ass at home. For all of us.

Family Business

Before I start on my tangent, let me hit you with some neccessary Background information:
Me and my little cousin used to be tight. I probably treated her more like my little sister than my real sister. She went everywhere with me and anytime she needed anything she came to me. She comes from a fucked up family (check this post, number 8 is her father) and I've always felt the need to protect her. All the females in her family are the "gimme my welfare so I can sit on my ass" type. She looked at that and knew she wanted better. She's smart as hell and never got caught up in the mess where she lived. I was so proud of her and had plans to move her in with me my junior year.

Over the summer, she started dating this guy who is 22. At first I started talking yang about how he is too old for her and blase skip. But then I remembered that I was 16 dating a 22 year old and that she is only one year younger than me. Eventually as they continued dating, I started to see that she was changing. She stopped coming to church, stopped being around the family and all her conversations centered around him. We had a couple of talks, she insisted that it was nothing that and that work was occupying her time more than him. I let it go.

A few months ago, I get word through the family grapevine that she is pregnant. I was crushed because:
a) She didn't tell me
b) She barely knows dude
c) It threw a Shaq sized monkey wrench in the plan to get her out
The first person she told was my aunt, who she calls her godmother. I'm still hurt that she didn't come to me, but I understand that she may have been hesitant because she knew I would be let down. So I let that slide. Christmas Day she calls my father, of all people and tells him she's pregnant. I guess this was her official press release and her way of saying it's ok if the whole family knows now. (Please...ya'll know the second she told my aunt EVERYBODY knew!!) Still remaining optimistic, I call and try to get in contact with her. By this time, she's moved in with dude and quit her job. After I finally reach her, she tells me she was scared to tell me and that she called my father because he is the "calmest in the family."

WTF???!!

This is where big ass red lighted alarms go off in my head. My father? Calm? Hell naw...Now, don't get me wrong, my daddy is cool peeps, but that negro is FAR from calm. All anybody who really knows me need to hear is that I got my temper from him and they will understand. My daddy doesn't play. This is the same dude who got into it with me and we both lived under the same house for a year without speaking. Calm? I think not...

So at this point the family is ticked with her. Saying shit like "if she can't tell us herself, she betta not come to us for anything"...I'm the one taking up for her, saying how hard it must be and how I'm sure she didn't mean for this to happen.

Until...

Yesterday I was on the phone with my aunt (her "godmother") who informs me that she hasn't spoken to lil cuz in a while. Somehow we get around to the fact that she is mad at her. I ask why and she says that all the work she put in to making sure my cousin graduated and had somewhere to go afterwards was negated by that shit. I agree, saying that I can see where she is coming from. Then she hits me with the REAL reason. She says "And plus, I can't believe she was stupid enough not to use protection." I say, "Come se dice, huh?" (My phrase for "Say WHAT?!?) She replies that she didn't use any birth control because she "didn't want to get fat." I asked if se used condoms and my auntie said "hell naw."

Silence.

What in the hell makes someone go so damn stupid? She didn't want to get fat. Well, shit. You're pregnant now, dummy. Yo ass is about to swell the hell up!! Great move...

As you might be able to tell, I'm not taking the news too well. I really thought she wanted better for herself, but I guess I never knew her at all.


And that hurts.

Jukin' to the Oldies....

I had insomnia something terrible last night. I mean, I went to sleep at 2, woke up at 3 and couldn't get back until 6. After I woke up, I realized that I wasn't going to get to sleep again for a while so I pulled out my Sam Cooke's Greatest Hits CD and sang almost every song on there. Man, I forgot how much I used to love Sam Cooke. My mother used to play him all the time in the house. I was singing "Chain Gang" before I knew what the song was about. I remember hearing "A Change is Gonna Come" around the house everytime the anniversaries of her sister's and brother's death came around. My mother would always hum the tunes and I would sit there and listen to every harmony, every lyric and every instrument in the songs. They are ingrained in me. I picked up my guitar last night and songs I haven't heard for years came to me like I was 7 and just heard them yesterday.

So today I go to WhuDat and see this clip of a young man named David Brown. Apparently, the ONE time I miss American Idol this season, they wanna have someone who can actually BLOW. (Yeah, I brought that word out of the crates, dusted it off and used it again, so what?) Homeboy tore up my Sam Cooke song "A Change is Gonna Come"...he is my pick so far. He seemed very polite, sincere and the brotha is talented. Plus, he has locs. And LAWD knows I love a brotha with some beautiful locs!! I can't wait to watch him this season because I know he will make it far.

Since I mentioned how my mother used to play Sam all the time and when she played certain songs, here are some oldies and what they remind me of:

1) "Reasons" - Earth, Wind and Fire.
This is my parent's song. They have been married for 26 years and I remember hearing this song every December 26th. And when I got old enough and that day hit, I would run to the record player (yes, we still had a record player...that's so classic) and put it on for them and watch them dance.

2) "Forever Your Girl", "Cold Hearted" & "Straight Up" - Paula Abdul.
These are some of the first songs I really learned to sing. I used to listen to the entire Forever Your Girl album front to back over and over when I was like 5.

3) "Angel" - Anita Baker
Anita is my daddy's girl. I didn't really have a full appreciation of her voice until I turned 17, but this song holds memories for me. My dad used to put this on and dance with me.

4) "I Swear" - All 4 One
Yep, sure did. I liked this song. It was the shiznit back then! Me and my friends would sing the HELL outta this song!!! In retrospect, it's not that great, but it's still not that bad either, so don't talk about me!!

*off to watch Season 1 of Chappelle's Show*

Are Celebs Lives Really Better?

*******Throwback from my other journal that I added to********


I wonder what the hell Ludacris was thinking when he made this new video? You know the "Get back MUTHAFUCCA, you don't know me like that!!". Yeah, that one...It seems he is destined to become the male Missy Elliot of videos.

Speaking of Missy, she has a TV show debuting tonight - "The Road to Stardom". I will be watching. I wish stars that I am really interested in would make a reality show. Examples:

50 cent's Quest to Become a Top Model

50 cent - Ghea, Ghea...I'm bout to be a Top Model, ya kno? I'll cheech dese suckas how to shtunt and walk dis runway for rea'..

Judge - 50 cents...? That is what you said your name is, right?

50 cent - It's Fiddy cent ain't no "s" on the end...

Judge - Well, 50 cents-uhh cent, we are truly sorry, we didn't understand a word you just said and plus you just don't have what we are looking for. The bulletproof vest is not couture...and your facial structure - the offcenter jawline and unusually large teeth don't sit well with us..NEXT!!

Or...

Usher Roughs It UP
This would be a show focusing on Usher - the ultimate metrosexual - and his 30 day challenge to do without all his grooming tools. No seaweed mask?? No mud bath?? No deep cleasing salt-water scrub to make his face baby smooth???!!?! Oh, how will poor Usher make it? Tune in to find out...

Finally....

Destiny's Child Attempt to Find The Ultimate Soldier
Send these bitches to the middle of Iraq in their midriff-baring fatigues and see how much of a "survivor" they asses really are. They would have 30 days to find the ultimate "soldier" that they describe in their new song. You know the one driving the Humvee with the "golds gleamin" and with that hard lean. He would also have to find time to roll up a fatty since DC prefers men with their "eyes low from that chiefin". If they make it alive, they get a pardon from the public from ever having to work together again and are free to try to be stars on their own. If they fail, they have to find their own way home without the help of Mama or Daddy Knowles.

OK, I lied I didn't add anything to this, but I will add some more shows later with more in-depth descriptions.

I-i-i-i-i-i-i-i Am Everyday People!!

First off, I have to send my prayers to this freshman that goes to my school. Anyone reading this that has a belief in a higher power, please send a prayer up for him. He's only 18 and he just lost both of his parents in a plane crash on Friday. He's a real good kid and I'm praying that he comes out of this tragedy alright.
____________________________________________________



Straight Seinfield moment: Me, my girl and our boy Kenny went out to eat on Sunday. Just as our food arrives we see these girls that we know exiting the restaurant. So they make their way to our table and proceed to say hello. After they finish greeting us, my friend (female) reaches over to one of the girl's stomach, says "is this a baby?" and rubs her stomach like she was trying to feel a kick. Turns out the girl was so not pregnant. She looked my girl dead in her eye and said No, I'm just fat." My friend just ended up burying her head on the table and wouldn't come up until the girls had left. Ya'll know we talked about her to no end, right? Just as she was about to cut into her steak, Kenny's ass says "Gosh, I hope that steak wasn't pregnant when they decided to put it on a plate for you!! You'd better feel it's stomach first...!" IgNaNt.

Saw Coach Carter. It's cool. Typical sports movie. Ashanti played herself. Sam Jack is always good. MMmmMmM MmMMm BITCH!! (cookies to you if you get that...)

Mother Nature is a bitch. For real. Not even a regular bitch, like me. No, she is a "my man just left me/I got three kids to take care of/My mama never loved me and my daddy was a pimp" type bitch. On Saturday, I got off work at four in the morning. My girl who works with me dropped me off at my dorm. She pulls up and I start to open the car door. Before I can get it open 2 fuckin inches, the wind blows that sucka shut. We listen for a second and all we hear is a sound reminiscent of a white girl horror scream. I mean it sounded like it was about to be a straight twister out there. So I bundle up and grab the handle again. This time I swing it open like I'm the DEA. So I start my walk to the front of the dorm building with my potential late lunch (which means leftover cheesy bread and chicken from Domino's that I ordered at work) in hand. I'm barely halfway to the door when this fierce ass gust of wind comes and snatches my food straight out of my hand. Shit goes crashing to the ground. It didn't just fall. It fell and popped the fuck open, leaving my chicken and bread all on the cement. Feeling spiteful, I prepare to kick the hell out of my recently emptied box. I pull my foot ALL the way back, said a big "Fuck yo' box, nigga!!" (again, cookies if you get that...) and prepare to kick the hell outta this box. Just as my foot is about to connect, the wind gets to it first and sends it flying a good 3 feet in the air. It was like the wind said "Ha ha bitch, you thought you was gon' get the chance to vent, huh? HELL NAW!! I won't give you the pleasure..." Straight treated me like I was Charlie Brown and she was Lucy. Punk ass Mother Nature.


The Steelers lost. Ha ha! Browns to the Super Bowl in 2007!!!!

"Como se dice...baby mama drama en EBONICS?"

****Found this in the unposted crates (ok, ok...it's only from January 13, but hey...)***

I'm used to being the only Black person in class. No, really, I am. That's not the problem. Before I start to ranting, let me tell you what happened:

In my creative nonfiction class, my professor walks in today and says he wants everyone to share a story from over the break. To start off with, he tells us how he just found out his cat is dying and how he is kinda torn up about how his 3 year old will comprehend the change. So everyone goes around and they tell their little stories - burning houses, drunken fights, mishaps here and there. Then it gets to this one chick. The first words out of her mouth were "I'm debating on what is too much information." One guy tells her ass to "stop right there." Joking, of course, but perhaps he had something going there. So she continues and goes on this whole tirade about how she's in this interracial relationship and blah blah blah...she goes home for Thanksgiving and her grandma blurts out "So, I hear you're in love with a darkie!" WTF??? Then she says that one of her young cousins blurts out "This is just like Save the Last Dance!" Bitch, spare me the punchlines...she knew that shit was inappropriate to share with the class with my black ass in there. That's like me sharing stories about my Uncle Killa-Cracka who holds aspirations to be like Nat Turner.

Let's analyze this shit:

1) For her little cousin to remark that her situation is just like "Save the Last Dance", not only would she have to understand what a "darkie" is, she would have had to hear the term before and accepted its usage. Mistake Number 1

2) Instead of being upset that her grandmother used a racist slur (and gawwddamn, a throwback one at that) in reference to this man she supposedly loves, this bitch laughs at her little red-necked cousin's festering ignorance. Mistake Number 2

3) The story was neither entertaining or thought-provoking. Mistake Number 3 (and perhaps the most costly of all) C'mon now!! You know Black folks like to laugh, that's why the blank channel, excuse me - BET, shows Comicview 6 nights out of the week....if you gotta say some ignant shit, at least make it funny ignant shit. Otherwise you are liable to be hit with the "WTF? face" and you don't want the "WTF? face" because it usually comes with some comment that's just plain evil.

***ADDED TODAY***

So on Tuesday in my advanced composition class we began genre assignments. To start us off, the teacher gave us 3 handouts on various genres, one on science fiction, one on the first person documentary and one on hip-hop (street/urban) fiction. See where this is going?...uh uh...In the second paragraph of the handout on street lit there is this sentence:

...it is set in the world of hustlers, pimps, thugs, chickenheads, blinged-out rappers or 'round the way baby mamas."

So of course we get in class and my dumb ass teacher says "Can anyone tell me what 'baby mama drama' means?" Hold on now bidnight, you cannot tell me that you have a freakin Ph.D and cannot infer what the term "baby mama drama" means? BITCH please. So me and the other TWO (WOOO HOO!!!) Black people sit ALL the way back in our chairs and see who will answer this. No one takes her bait. So of course she takes it upon herself to call out names. Now, keep in mind I already said that all THREE Black folks (myself included) were leaning in our seats like they were some old school Cutlasses. That should have sent the signal that we were not to be fukked wit, right? Guess body language is another barrier because she called on all three of us and got the same "WTF? face" and "Golly, I really don't know... answer from us all. So we moved the hell on...

You would think that was the end, right? Uh uh, ya'll know white folks always take it to the corners of the earth and back (after all, they were the ones that said the earth was flat, right?). The next time class meets, some broad brought in a printout from playahata.com (does this shit exist? Someone check for me, I'm too lazy..) and urbandictionary.com from which my teacher proceeds to read the "official" definitions of "baby mama drama", "chickenhead" and "bling bling". And OF FUCKIN' COURSE the man's name in both the examples of "baby mama drama" AND "bling bling" had to be....



Tyrone.

Stereotypes, what would America do without 'em?

One Of The Boys...Sometimes

I've always tended to flock more towards males than females. But, in hanging with the opposite sex I have noticed some downfalls, particularly in instances where they tend to forget that I'm not always "one of the boys". So here is my list of:


Things that I'm not particulary interested in hearing about from the opposite sex (no matter how close we are):

1)Your Bedroom Adventures. How loud you made your girl scream. How you blew her back OUUUT!! I do not want to know about your sexual conquests. No, really I don't. I have probably thought about the way you perform in bed, and if I think you are good, I've thought about it more than once. Telling me about how good your girl has it is likely to A) make me rethink the boundaries of our "friendship", B) make me jealous(depending on my current situation), C) prompt me to think you have something to prove, D) make me think you are a jackass. Odds are you will be placed in either group C or D. Few make it into B and even fewer into category A. So by telling me about your bedroom tactics, you are more likely to make yourself appear like a jackass than a sex god. Keep the play-by-plays to yourself.

2)Old replays of your "glory" sport plays in high school. Half the people I know played sports in high school. 80 percent of those people are 10 times better in their memory than they ever really were. Those days are over. Unless you are currently still playing the same sport and a rehash of your high school days is somehow neccessary to understand something pertinent to today, save your highlights for your scrapbook. I could care less. It's boring, unless you have accompanying footage that really is amazing, then I might watch a few minutes worth.

3)Stories of how you used to be such a dog.(Especially if I know you still are) Why would you want to brag about that? I don't see ex-alcoholics running around talking about "WhOOoO, boy!!! I used to really put 'em away!!! I'm talking about two 24 packs a day!! I was the man!! So you shouldn't be running around talking about how you used to be addicted to pussy. It's not cute. It doesn't make you the man. So unless you are reflecting back on it with a more mature view and a realization that those days are not to be cherished - I don't want to hear it.

4) How you cheated on your girl. This usually results from you either a) feeling bad and wanting to justify why you did it or b) just plain old bragging. Either way, I am likely to side with the female, since, hey, I am one. Sorry.

5)How much your ass itches, etc.Yes, I can play Madden with the best of them. I love sneakers just as much as high heels. I don't bother with makeup everyday besides mascara and lip gloss. I probably have a better jump shot than you.In spite of all this, I am a girly girl in some aspects. Gross humor is one of them. Bathroom humor is funny on Chappelle. You, my friend are not Dave. Spare me the "realness" and excuse yourself. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT follow up your excusal with a detailed explanation of what you need to do. "My bad, I had to go stratch my ass/fart/doo doo/adjust my balls etc." That shit is just not cute.

6) How fat you think a girl's ass is. I am heterosexual. While I may engage in coversation with you over whether female A is prettier than female B, I will not judge her "fuckability" and factors that affect it. I also, just like you, have eyes. I can see if a girl have a unproportinate amount of flesh in one area. I however, unlike you, am not turned on by it. So while we both see the sistah who's a size 6 with a 36D chest, there is NO need for you to comment on how you would like to taste her milk. Unless you wanna hear me talk about how certain nigg@s walk like they have a two-by-four between their legs or how all my girls say dudes with bowlegs can fuck, keep your commments to yourself. Spare me and I'll do the same for you.

7) How whorish (insert female that I am cool with) is. I know she's a ho. You know she's a ho. Hell, her mama probably considered naming her Helen Octavia Edwards. That, however does not give you permission to speak ill of her in my face. Don't state the obvious, because I may just feel forced to bring up some of your friends who have been known to stick and move into anything with lungs and breasts. You may however, talk about hoes that I'm not cool with. heehee...

8)How much you could show me in the bedroom. Stop, stop, stop, stop. If I was interested in what you could do within the confines of a private domain, you would be aware. If I haven't mentioned it, neither should you. There is a slight possibility that you might make me curious and if I find out you've lied...ohh boy...Mary have mercy on you. However, the other 99.99945 percent of the time where you do not invoke my curiosity, all you do is appear to make up for shortcomings by flapping your jaws. Quality sells itself. How many Bentley commercials do you see? Because everybody knows what that shit's about.


I'm sure there are plenty more, but these are the ones off the top of my head. More may be on the way...

I Just May Be (a LITTLE bit) Wrong

So, I almost had to whoop ass tonight. Here's how it went down:

Me and my girl head to the bar/club. It's cold as hell and when we get there, it's less than half full. We make our way to the dance floor, which is even more empty than the rest of the bar, if that's possible. We are there less than 20 minutes when some drunk ass white girl comes in and damn near falls down the ramp on her way down to the dance floor. Did she have the decency to fall silently? No, this bitch had to let the whole club know she almost busted her ass. "OHMYGOD, Laura!!! Did you see me?!! I almost fell!!! Like, I might have MAJORLY busted my ass!!!" At this point, I'm irritated and I lean over the railing that over looks the dance floor, look her dead in the eye and say "Shut the Fuck Up!" It could have been done there, but this chick decides she doesn't want to take my professional advice and starts talking shit. I couldn't really hear her over the music, so I had to make my way to the dance floor to hear her better (heehee...). At this point, she's all like "Why would you say that to me? You don't even know me!!OMG, I didn't do anything to you!!..blah blah blah blah blah blah blah..." I tell her I don't need to know her but what I do know is that I don't want to hear her drunk ass the second she walks into the club. She continues to talk and then....then, this bitch had the audacity to throw her hand up in my face. Not the white girl, limp wrist hand, oh no, this was the old-school Jamie Foxx from "The Jamie Foxx Show" hand (circa 1997), complete with the screeching brakes sound effect. (OK, so she didn't make the sound effect, but the heffa probably thought about it). That's all I need to see. I'm nice and tell her punk ass to try that cute shit one more time and I promise to break her in half. I say all of this while taking off the huge hoop earrings I had on (cuz you know a sista can't give an opponent anything extra to pull or grab). It's at this point she starts avoiding eye contact. Yeah, that's right...retreat....you can't win. But, wait, the bitch's lips are still flapping!! Anger building, I make a move to tap her on her shoulder. This is when I feel my friends descend upon me like a trained S.W.A.T. unit and drag me out of the battlefield. I swear they moved like they had recieved assigments!! Friend Number 101, you grab the right arm, Friend 102, you've got the left, Friend 103, you are assigned to guide Aries to safety once the limbs are disarmed...Ready? MOVE!! MOVE!!! MOVE!!! A few minutes later, I've calmed down because the shit wasn't that serious anyway. That was until I glanced down at this heffa and see her readjusting this three big ass tacky rings she has on and all the while holding what seems to be a very animated conversation with her friends. You know what I'm thinking: This bitch must be talking about me. I'm guessing that she thinks those $4.50 costume jewelry rings from Claire's will act as some makeshift brass knuckles and she's telling all her friends exactly what she anticipates the impressions on my face will look like. Matter of fact, I know she was talking about fighting me because she punched herself in the palm after she twisted one of the rings around. (And no, "Knuck if You Buck" wasn't on...) So I start shouting that she must be talking to me and if she wants it (Don't even front like you don't know what it is...), I'm right here. It's at this point that her friend walks over and says: "She wasn't talking about you. I'm so sorry, she's really drunk. See this post for my feelings about the infamous "she's really drunk" excuse. I swear Imma (and yes, that is a word. It's in the dictionary right before I-made-that-shit-up) snap a bitch neck in this hick town before I leave. But then again, I may have been in the wrong for telling her to shut the EFF up. But I was just offering my opinion, right? *sheepish smile*

OK, OK sue me...I was looking to start shit. But best believe if she was bold enough to bring her wrist above waist level again, I woulda finished it...

*off to listen to my Erykah Badu and meditate* lol...

~~~I realize there is an insane amount of profanity in this post. See what the Ville does to a person? *walking away muttering "nonviolent, nonviolent" in my best MLKJ voice*~~~~

Ain't that a BITCH?!!!!

I am LIVID.

No, for real - L-I-V-I-D!!!

This new bitch ass teacher of mine neglected to tell me that the first assignment of the year, which is due tomorrow, requires you to buy a 48 dollar book from the book store. I asked his ass on Wednesday what I missed since I enrolled late. He told me nothing but an overview of the class. At first I wasn't too pissed, because the assignment is called "Microcase #1". Micro...hmmm...that indicates little. So I run upstairs to my old buddy from high school's room and ask to borrow his book so I can get this mini/micro lesson and scan it real quick. Riiiight...This shit is 26 pages long!!!! 26!!! OK, still no problem, I'll run right next door to our little wanna-be Starbucks and make the copies. The copier they have there only takes money from off your student ID, similar to a debit card. So I get there and the fuckin machine won't read my card!!! Now I'm getting a tad perturbed. Still calm on the exterior, I head to the front desk and ask the bitch working (oh, yes she is deserving of the "B" title, read on) if she can make the copies for me behind the desk and I just pay her the cash. She tells me "I'm sorry, we don't have a copier back here." Ok...cool..well do you know if there is a way that the copier in here can accept cash (meaning coins)?. She replies "Weeeelll, I...really don't know...I've never even looked at it before." It's at this point I start to lose my cool. There is no easier way to piss me off than to not know your fuckin job. What does her fat ass do all day? Sit there and play Soltaire? Her job is not hard...answer questions, help out here and there and walk her fat ass to the back to retrieve free toilet paper rolls for the students in the Suites. Still polite, I tell her "thanks" and continue to find somewhere else to copy this book. It's at this point this bitch opened her fat ass mouth and says "Well the library is right there..." No shit. Bitch, I know that, I'm a fuckin English major. What you think niggas can't read? The library is smack right in the fuckin middle of campus. And no, that shit is not "right there"....it's 3 fuckin degrees outside (literally), and let's not talk about the windchill. At that fuckin temperature, nothing is "right there". Hell, a mailbox at the end of a 20 foot driveway is not "right there" in 3 degree weather. Pissed the hell off, I walk my ass to the library (a good 4 minute walk), copy the 26 pages at $.15 a page (that's $3.90 for those of you who are allergic to math like me) and stomp back with my red ass nose and frozen Crypt-Keeper looking finger. Fuck the 'Ville...Ain't that a Bitch?

*** The title comes from the fact that all this shit made me turn off my E Badu (which I listen to during ALL moods and pump some Lil Wayne - "Ain't That a Bitch"***

****EDITED ON JAN 14 TO ADD: 10:13 am: Yet, another reason to hate the Ville. It is 1 degree outside. No, not degreeS...One freakin degrEE, and it feels like -11 with the windchill and these bastards haven't cancelled classes. And it's snowing. I'm going back to bed... *****

This is What I Do...

What I've been indulging in lately -



Amel Larrieux's CD Bravebird.










I've loved her since Groove Theory. Her voice is the truth and this is a laid-back CD that addresses some serious topics. Do yourself a favor and get this. For real.

Recommended Tracks:
For Real - the first single. Make me tear up a little if heard at the right time.
Bravebird - a freeing song for women who've endured the horror of female circumcision.
We Can Be New - refreshing song about starting over and feeling it all over again.
Congo - reminds me of an E Badu vibe session. Taking it back to where it all began. Trance-like.
All I Got - Be thankful for what you've got, even if it's not much. Old topic, great new song.





Aaron McGruder's Birth of a Nation













My baby has done it again. I adore Aaron. The Boodocks is my favorite comic strip ever. I've actually has this since the summer, but I just "rediscovered" it and fell in love all over again. Plus it doesn't hurt that it's setting is so close to my 2nd hometown. This book is funny (of course), smart and has social relevance. It's set in East St. Louis, a desecrated town if there ever was one. Full of black folk and ignored by anyone who doesn't live there. After being disenfranchised in the 2000 election, the people of East St. Lou set off to do something about it. Classic McGruder.



"Since I Seen't You" by Anthony Hamilton
I'd like this a lot better if the title was "Since I've Seen You" but perhaps that's just the English major in me. Nonetheless, this is a feel good track I could listen to on repeat all day. I got tired of Anthony since I wore him out and then the radio followed suit and beat "Charlene" to death. This track has revived him for me.


Sex and the City Season 4
I bought myself this DVD over the break. I can't afford to get all of them at once since they are like 40 bucks a pop so I start with the seasons I like the best. This is the season I really started getting engrossed (that word just sounds stalker-ish, doesn't it?) in the show. Carrie messes up with Aidan, Big is all over the place and Samantha just acts a plum fool in this season. My third favorite season behind 3 and 6.

I would post more except I don't feel like finding links and pics and ish....but these are the main things that entertain me as of late.

Keep Your Eyes on the Prize

I'm sitting here listening to this beautiful rendition of "Redemption Song" by Lauryn Hill. This girl could sing a Chinese carry-out menu and make me cry so imagine the effect of her singing lyrics like Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery/None but ourselves can free our minds/Have no fear for atomic energy/Cause none of them can stop the time/How long shall they kill our prophets/While we stand aside and look... Whoo...emotional experience, listening to Lauryn, I tell ya...

Onto the purpose of this entry...Imagine calling someone and hearing

Ring...ring.......ring...*click*...I've made some changes in my life in the New Year. If I don't call you back, you're one of them...*BEEEEP*

Oh my, right? This random guy has that as his message and I think that is so hot - it's straight to the point without bein ignant and it's real. As I mentioned before, I don't make New Year's resolutions but over the break I've had some time to really think and examine. I've come to realize that a lot of things will be done differently by me this year - I've seen some real regression on my quest to become who I want to and I need to fix the problems while I still recognize them.

This semester in school will be very interesting. I've got a lot of projects coming up that I'm excited about:

1) I get to write, direct and basically control all aspects of a play focusing on Black history. This is especially big because the university I attend is in an extremely rural town and there are only 158 domestic blacks on campus. Out of 6,000 students. 158. So for me to be able to control this play that will shape a lot of views of people who haven't been exposed to Black culture is so big. I'm actually kinda scared because if it sucks there's no one to blame but me.

2) I talked the campus radio director into a "trial-run" of my proposed show "Suite Soul". Which is basically just me getting to expose the station to some real music that's good for the soul. I've been approved to play anything I choose, including some spoken word and live performances that I love so I can't wait. He gave me three slots for the first three Sundays after we get back and said if my ratings are normal he may make me a regular. So cross your fingers for me!

3) I get to perform in and co-host my school's Martin Luther King Jr. celebration. It's an all-day celebration ending with a 2 1/2 hour program in our theater. I still have to write my piece and memorize it, but I was flowing in the car today and I think I'm straight on what I want to say. I hesitated because it's so hard to try to write a piece that embodies all that MLKJ stood for. You know how in music there are some songs that should just not be touched? For me, there are some subjects in poetry that are so heavy to approach that I actually find myself viewing it a little bit like a hunt. I look at it from all angles possible and then try to find the best one to come from. I gotta thank Syleena J from the Beat for my title though, she performed a snippet of one of her pieces on the air today and in the middle she asked "What was the struggle for?"...so I ganked that and made it a title. Good look, Ms. J.

4)Since open mic nights at my school have been slacking, I've been working with some people on some promotion that should be like the grits if it jumps off. (the grits = the shit, whatever) So I can't wait for that as well.

I'm trying to get back to where I was for like 3 months last year. Just this really calm but focused mindset. I feel like my thoughts have been racing this semester and I haven't really gotten anything done. So I'm getting back to being like Hov - "I'm focused, man!! Tell Stout to holla at me, man!!" (Check up on that Mya/Jay-Z "Best of Me" remix if you don't know that)

Oh, I forgot...I'll be writing for the newspaper here and there too, so the 'Ville betta look out!!

Well, that's all for now...I'm like slaves at a KKK meeting - ABSENT.

To My Beautiful Surprises...

I have to say thanks. I took a good look into my life today and I am truly blessed. I have some of the most beautiful people in my life right now. Just a great support system. It's taken a lot of work, I've been through a lot. I've had to eliminate a lot of people from my life this past year because they caused me pain or drama or just because I couldn't see what their presence brought to my life. I've been thinking a lot these past few weeks about people and purpose. If I look in my life there are some people who have just been constant figures, but haven't had an influence one way or the other. Then there are some people who have just busted their way in my life and have had tremendous effect whether it be positive or negative. The negative people are actually easier for me to deal with because I can give them the peace sign with the itchy trigger finger (try it) and be done with it. But these people that come in my life and just show themselves to be beautiful spirits I have trouble dealing with. I'm of the mental that if it feels right too soon it's wrong. And even though recent events have proven my theory to be shit, it's still hard to completely let go because it's brought me this far. Everybody says it and I'll say it here - "I'm not perfect". But I really am trying to fix my flaws that hinder me from being able to give you back what you all have given me. I'm a work in progress and I take time out of every day to slightly alter my blueprint of who I want to become. I just hope that when that day comes, I still have these gorgeous souls around to show how much I appreciate them.

Since it's 4 in the am and "there's nothing new under the sun", I'll let someone else say it for me...

Just when I was losing my faith
And I was losing my way
You came to me
Clear as day

Even if
I wake up
and find I'm alone
'Cause the whole world's turned to stone
And my God says
"It's time I take you home"
I'll be happy going
knowing that

I loved you

One day, one day, I will find the words, the actions, the melody, the harmony, the perfect way to show you how much I appreciate your presence in my life. Until then....

Thank you.

Ring, ring, ring...it's the same thing

2005, eh? How does one ring in the New Year? By making old mistakes if you're like me. No, I must retract that last statement. Here's what happened. I really wanted to go to a party where there was a strict dress code, mature people and overall good times. Well, unfortunately I couldn't find such a party in STL that was under $35 for a ticket so I decided to stay home. Around 10:20 I started getting awfully lonely. (Yes, I will admit it). So I call up my boy O and see what he's doing. He was at his best friend's house, playing cards and talking shit. So I tell him that I will be by his house in a few and ask if he will leave for a bit. So he leaves the mini-party to go home. On my way to O's house, I get the genius idea in my head that I need to see my ex. Yes, THE ex. So, I jet down there and knock on the door, taking an extreme chance of wasted gas since he is a club-hopper and I didn't really expect him to be home. Well, anyway, he answers the door and I really don't know what to say. We greet, I walk inside and we actually had a civilized conversation. Then he had to screw it all up. I'm walking to the door and all of a sudden, he's reaching over my shoulder trying to hand me this silver wrapped box. I recognize it. It's the same box I refused when he tried to give it to me on Christmas when he came to my house. I look at it and keep walking. He grabs my shoulder and tries to turn me around. At this point I'm standing still, waiting for him to release me so I can get the hell outta Dodge. He pulls me closer to him and gives me a kiss on the cheek and then lets my shoulder go. At this point I'm through. I mean I am pissed. He knows that we don't have the type relationship where he can give me gifts. In fact, when we were together, I reached a point where I told him I didn't want him to give me shit. He's the type nigga that thinks that gifts means I owe him something. So I see what the hell he's trying to do with that damn box. And then to fucking kiss me like we are something just cements the fact that he will never learn. I swear, it may be my fault for going over there in the first place knowing how he is, but the conversation we had proves that not only can he be good company, but that he can be completely un-asshole-ish. But I guess he choose not to. So I leave his place and try to go rush and see O. By the time I get there, it's a little after 12. Happy New Year. He opens the door and I give him a huge hug and then he asks me what took me so long. Shit. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and walk in without answering. Homeboy wouldn't let it go. He's all,I'm for real, I left John's to be at home for you and it takes you 2 hours to get here?"" Now, the smart aleck in me is thinking, he know damn well it wasn't no full two hours, but my smarter self is telling me this isn't the time to be Sally Smart Ass. I avoid the question and we go on to have a pretty decent night, but I know he wants to know. Eh, well. Some shit (and by "some shit" I mean the shit you know will cause an argument) is better left untold.

Anyway, HAPPY NEW YEAR!