Thursday, June 12, 2008
It's 1am....
So I'm here, and it's not 1am. Go figure. But guess what it might as well be. I' m sick and am tired and honestly I couldn't count past fifty words even if I tried. I'm here writing now to put words on paper not just to fulfil my daily quota. So now I will see you all soon for more madness and mayhem.
That shit is wild.
It is 1:13am and I am just now starting this post. Now I know, most of you would say I'm supposed to be blogging daily, which I am. I just know between when I woke up today and now, 24 hours haven't elapsed, and I have yet to even close my eyes. Maybe I do my best work in the wee hours when I'm supposed to be resting my eyes. Maybe not. I guess I'll let you be the judge. Today's post will be much like yesterdays as far as format goes. However, nothing like the content. As I said yesterday, six must be better than five, so aaahhhh here it goes. (Kel's voice from Kenan and Kel).
Happy Birthday Blue.
Today is Blue’s fifth birthday. Oh by the way, Blue is my car. And I just named him. Seeing as how today is Blue’s birthday that means my tags are due. And if my tags are due that means I’m broke. Because I drive around with opened alcohol in my car way too often to give the Johnny’s any reason to pull me over. So, happy birthday Blue and goodnight bank account.
Shooter.
I’ve accomplished a goal today. I watched one of the hundreds of DVD’s I own. Well I don’t technically own them because I can only recall two that I purchased with my own money. However, seeing as how I am mooching off my parents while I’m still trying to find myself in college we’ll just assume what’s theirs is mine. So for the first movie of my theatrical journey I chose Shooter, a movie I have already seen before. But, I do not regret watching it again what so ever. It has a lot of guns, a lot of blood, and a lot of men, and to me that’s my kind of movie. The main character, Johnny Swagger, is played by Mark Walberg. When I first turned on the movie I said to myself, “Is that dude an ex Beastie Boy?” Well I was wrong. No he’s not. He is a current New Kid on the Block. Oh what, you didn’t hear? The New Kids are releasing a new album. Excited? Well anyway, old ass Danny Glover is in the movie. He sure isn’t using Fixodent because I could see his teeth lifting from his gums. Man, it feels like yesterday he was in Angels in the Outfield, and now today, his teeth are falling out of his mouth. Other than praying the camera man, the editor, and the producer, allowed a scene to slip in where Dan the Man’s teeth fell out, the rest of the movie was okay for most. Like I said, it’s perfect for a girl like me, who loves guns, blood, guts, and glory. That’s my kind of movie. Today was the first day I watched the previews on that movie. It probably had everything to do with me not having a remote to my DVD player; otherwise I’m sure I wouldn’t have taken the time. Well Sam Jackson was in one of the previews for the movie Black Snake Moan. Has anybody seen it? I haven’t so trust it was hilarious. I don’t think I’m allowed to not laugh every time I see Sam after re watching that scene of him falling down the stairs in Unbreakable. “Unbreakable what you thought they called me Mr. Glass”-Kanye West. Yeah that was dope. Don’t front. I’m starting to write how I speak. Ouch. Anyway, the premise of that movie is Sam rescues a half naked beat the fuck up Christina Something or other. I don’t remember her last name. I just know she was the one dating Marilyn Manson and had her ass out at the MTV awards a few years back. Ricci, that’s it. It’s Christina Ricci. Anyway, this bitch is beat the fuck up and Sam Jackson picks her ass up out of the street. He chains her with this big ass medieval chain and lock to the couch. He says something along the lines of God put you here so you’re staying until you can learn to not be a ho. And I’m pretty sure I remember some line about steak. The funniest part about the preview was David Banner with this nasty gold grill. He kind of looked like Jerome from Martin. Wait that was not the funniest part, it was when Christina the Ho Ricci tried to run away with the big ass heavy duty chain on and the pan back to Sam pulling the chain back and she falls smack dab on her back. Man, I might rent that. Make the goal something like some hundreds and one.
Blind Date.
No I did not go on one. Do I look like the type to go on blind dates. I think not. I’m pretty sure I am more than capable of finding a date I’ve seen before. Damn. Actually when I started this post I was watching the last few minutes of the show Blind Date, and I completely forgot how funny the show was.
There is this woman named Ashley* on a date with this guy named Bob*. Well needless to say Ashley is a ho just like every broad on this show. And Bob, he just wants to get a piece and drive the rent a car SUV to the second part of the date. Ashley is dressed horribly, and has the nerve to have an attitude. And Bob has on the traditional Hawaiian shirt and kaki shorts. They both look a mess and if you ask me, they belong together. I only caught the last part of the date. You know the part, when the ride in that big taxi van home and the guy makes his last attempt to get laid. Well here’s the conversation. No adlibs.
Bob: When did this date go wrong?
Ashley: Your mouth opened that’s where it went wrong. I have more class in my finger nail than you.
Bob: Well you are a stripper so your class is kind of lowered down.
Ashley: No I’m actually a stripper try that on for size.
Bob: Can I?
Ashley: NO!
Bob: Damn.
Talk about a rough night. Hawaiian Bob is not getting any and Ashley the Slor got called a ho. Ouch.
*The names Bob and Ashley have been changed to protect their identity. Nawww I just forgot. =]
Paternity Test.
I’m still a bit confused why people choose to humiliate themselves on national television. We all know how it goes. The proverbial (that’s my new favorite word by the way) question is asked. “Are you one hundred percent sure he is the father of your children.” Of course they answer with something outlandish like “one hundred and ten percent.” First off no one is one hundred and ten percent sure about anything, especially the paternity of their bastard. So stop embarrassing yourself and my race for a free plane ticket to Chicago and a meal allowance. Your child is not going to want to look you up on youtube in a few years so do us all a favor. That’s not even the worse part about it. Some of these bitches are on the show like nine times. No I’m serious. I saw a girl on Maury who had tested NINE guys. What kind of shit is that? How long does it take to get pregnant? Now we all know I’m not pregnant and probably never will be ever if I play my cards right so I don’t really know. But let’s be honest, you were fuckin’ nine guys in a month span? I don’t know. That just seems like a whole lot to me. Maybe it’s not a whole lot to some. But It’s a whole lot to everyone when you blast yourself on national television. Welp, it happens. And as long as it does I’ll keep watching that shit. YOU are NOT the father… girl runs and screams. You knew that. Stop frontin’. Next.
ADD.
I have attention deficit disorder. Actually I’ve been diagnosed with attention deficit hyper active disorder, but they don’t call it that anymore. I was so embarrassed when I was tested for it. Wait oh wait a minute, this is starting to sound like one of those herpes commercials. Let’s take a step back and remember what I’m talking about, ADD kids, ADD. I was so embarrassed I did not want any of my friends to know. They were calling me asking me to hang out and I kept telling them I had doctors’ appointments. I didn’t want to say, “Hey I’m failing my classes because I can not sit still and I leave early.” So instead I made them all believe I was pregnant. Pregnant? Me? No. One of my friends sat me down and said, “Cece, are you pregnant? Its okay I understand, I just want to be there for you.” Of course I laughed. All I was doing was going to get some meds and these people thought I was pregnant. They must think I’m trying to kill myself or move away. Because both of those outcomes would come true the minute some lame impregnates me. Move. Murder.
A little more on ADD.
Let me take the time to explain my disorder. I cannot concentrate for longer than, I don’t know, 45 minutes without my medicine. The medicine I take everyday is supposed to last for 12 hours. But, let me be the first to tell you that is a lie. I end up having to pop another around noon when I took one at eight just to get me through the day. The most annoying part about the whole thing is having ADD effects your memory. You forget to do simple things like pay a bill, do your homework, and charge your phone, things that could easily become a huge nuisance. So for someone who constantly forgets things, don’t you think it’s kind of ironic that they must remember to take a pill everyday to help them remember? Well if you don’t, I do. I can never remember to take it on time. I literally have to keep it on me at all hours because I’ll notice I’m not doing what I’m supposed to and then BAM pill time.
Now that I’ve grown up I don’t have a problem talking about it. Matter of fact I told someone I should have probably kept it a secret to because now everyday he asks me if I’ve taken my medicine. He can’t wait to catch me without it so I can get angry, frustrated, or just plain distracted. If ever I’m acting out of character, here he comes with this ADD talk. Actually now that I think about it, that’s what he calls me sometimes. My new nickname from him is ADD. Damn.
It’s two o’ clock and we’re still rollin. I can’t help it. Somethin’ Somethin’.
The way you do what you’re doin’, keeps me comin back for more. Keep it rollin baaabbyyy. Okay that was the Isley Brother’s in case you didn’t know. The somethin’ somethin’ wasn’t in the actual song but I couldn’t remember the lines. Well with six post under my belt, I’m finally headed to bed. No more late nights for me. Yeah right. I’ll see you tomorrow at 1. In the AM that is.
Peace and Love.
(Man... 7,347 words and four frosties... ummm feels good don't it.)
Happy Birthday Blue.
Today is Blue’s fifth birthday. Oh by the way, Blue is my car. And I just named him. Seeing as how today is Blue’s birthday that means my tags are due. And if my tags are due that means I’m broke. Because I drive around with opened alcohol in my car way too often to give the Johnny’s any reason to pull me over. So, happy birthday Blue and goodnight bank account.
Shooter.
I’ve accomplished a goal today. I watched one of the hundreds of DVD’s I own. Well I don’t technically own them because I can only recall two that I purchased with my own money. However, seeing as how I am mooching off my parents while I’m still trying to find myself in college we’ll just assume what’s theirs is mine. So for the first movie of my theatrical journey I chose Shooter, a movie I have already seen before. But, I do not regret watching it again what so ever. It has a lot of guns, a lot of blood, and a lot of men, and to me that’s my kind of movie. The main character, Johnny Swagger, is played by Mark Walberg. When I first turned on the movie I said to myself, “Is that dude an ex Beastie Boy?” Well I was wrong. No he’s not. He is a current New Kid on the Block. Oh what, you didn’t hear? The New Kids are releasing a new album. Excited? Well anyway, old ass Danny Glover is in the movie. He sure isn’t using Fixodent because I could see his teeth lifting from his gums. Man, it feels like yesterday he was in Angels in the Outfield, and now today, his teeth are falling out of his mouth. Other than praying the camera man, the editor, and the producer, allowed a scene to slip in where Dan the Man’s teeth fell out, the rest of the movie was okay for most. Like I said, it’s perfect for a girl like me, who loves guns, blood, guts, and glory. That’s my kind of movie. Today was the first day I watched the previews on that movie. It probably had everything to do with me not having a remote to my DVD player; otherwise I’m sure I wouldn’t have taken the time. Well Sam Jackson was in one of the previews for the movie Black Snake Moan. Has anybody seen it? I haven’t so trust it was hilarious. I don’t think I’m allowed to not laugh every time I see Sam after re watching that scene of him falling down the stairs in Unbreakable. “Unbreakable what you thought they called me Mr. Glass”-Kanye West. Yeah that was dope. Don’t front. I’m starting to write how I speak. Ouch. Anyway, the premise of that movie is Sam rescues a half naked beat the fuck up Christina Something or other. I don’t remember her last name. I just know she was the one dating Marilyn Manson and had her ass out at the MTV awards a few years back. Ricci, that’s it. It’s Christina Ricci. Anyway, this bitch is beat the fuck up and Sam Jackson picks her ass up out of the street. He chains her with this big ass medieval chain and lock to the couch. He says something along the lines of God put you here so you’re staying until you can learn to not be a ho. And I’m pretty sure I remember some line about steak. The funniest part about the preview was David Banner with this nasty gold grill. He kind of looked like Jerome from Martin. Wait that was not the funniest part, it was when Christina the Ho Ricci tried to run away with the big ass heavy duty chain on and the pan back to Sam pulling the chain back and she falls smack dab on her back. Man, I might rent that. Make the goal something like some hundreds and one.
Blind Date.
No I did not go on one. Do I look like the type to go on blind dates. I think not. I’m pretty sure I am more than capable of finding a date I’ve seen before. Damn. Actually when I started this post I was watching the last few minutes of the show Blind Date, and I completely forgot how funny the show was.
There is this woman named Ashley* on a date with this guy named Bob*. Well needless to say Ashley is a ho just like every broad on this show. And Bob, he just wants to get a piece and drive the rent a car SUV to the second part of the date. Ashley is dressed horribly, and has the nerve to have an attitude. And Bob has on the traditional Hawaiian shirt and kaki shorts. They both look a mess and if you ask me, they belong together. I only caught the last part of the date. You know the part, when the ride in that big taxi van home and the guy makes his last attempt to get laid. Well here’s the conversation. No adlibs.
Bob: When did this date go wrong?
Ashley: Your mouth opened that’s where it went wrong. I have more class in my finger nail than you.
Bob: Well you are a stripper so your class is kind of lowered down.
Ashley: No I’m actually a stripper try that on for size.
Bob: Can I?
Ashley: NO!
Bob: Damn.
Talk about a rough night. Hawaiian Bob is not getting any and Ashley the Slor got called a ho. Ouch.
*The names Bob and Ashley have been changed to protect their identity. Nawww I just forgot. =]
Paternity Test.
I’m still a bit confused why people choose to humiliate themselves on national television. We all know how it goes. The proverbial (that’s my new favorite word by the way) question is asked. “Are you one hundred percent sure he is the father of your children.” Of course they answer with something outlandish like “one hundred and ten percent.” First off no one is one hundred and ten percent sure about anything, especially the paternity of their bastard. So stop embarrassing yourself and my race for a free plane ticket to Chicago and a meal allowance. Your child is not going to want to look you up on youtube in a few years so do us all a favor. That’s not even the worse part about it. Some of these bitches are on the show like nine times. No I’m serious. I saw a girl on Maury who had tested NINE guys. What kind of shit is that? How long does it take to get pregnant? Now we all know I’m not pregnant and probably never will be ever if I play my cards right so I don’t really know. But let’s be honest, you were fuckin’ nine guys in a month span? I don’t know. That just seems like a whole lot to me. Maybe it’s not a whole lot to some. But It’s a whole lot to everyone when you blast yourself on national television. Welp, it happens. And as long as it does I’ll keep watching that shit. YOU are NOT the father… girl runs and screams. You knew that. Stop frontin’. Next.
ADD.
I have attention deficit disorder. Actually I’ve been diagnosed with attention deficit hyper active disorder, but they don’t call it that anymore. I was so embarrassed when I was tested for it. Wait oh wait a minute, this is starting to sound like one of those herpes commercials. Let’s take a step back and remember what I’m talking about, ADD kids, ADD. I was so embarrassed I did not want any of my friends to know. They were calling me asking me to hang out and I kept telling them I had doctors’ appointments. I didn’t want to say, “Hey I’m failing my classes because I can not sit still and I leave early.” So instead I made them all believe I was pregnant. Pregnant? Me? No. One of my friends sat me down and said, “Cece, are you pregnant? Its okay I understand, I just want to be there for you.” Of course I laughed. All I was doing was going to get some meds and these people thought I was pregnant. They must think I’m trying to kill myself or move away. Because both of those outcomes would come true the minute some lame impregnates me. Move. Murder.
A little more on ADD.
Let me take the time to explain my disorder. I cannot concentrate for longer than, I don’t know, 45 minutes without my medicine. The medicine I take everyday is supposed to last for 12 hours. But, let me be the first to tell you that is a lie. I end up having to pop another around noon when I took one at eight just to get me through the day. The most annoying part about the whole thing is having ADD effects your memory. You forget to do simple things like pay a bill, do your homework, and charge your phone, things that could easily become a huge nuisance. So for someone who constantly forgets things, don’t you think it’s kind of ironic that they must remember to take a pill everyday to help them remember? Well if you don’t, I do. I can never remember to take it on time. I literally have to keep it on me at all hours because I’ll notice I’m not doing what I’m supposed to and then BAM pill time.
Now that I’ve grown up I don’t have a problem talking about it. Matter of fact I told someone I should have probably kept it a secret to because now everyday he asks me if I’ve taken my medicine. He can’t wait to catch me without it so I can get angry, frustrated, or just plain distracted. If ever I’m acting out of character, here he comes with this ADD talk. Actually now that I think about it, that’s what he calls me sometimes. My new nickname from him is ADD. Damn.
It’s two o’ clock and we’re still rollin. I can’t help it. Somethin’ Somethin’.
The way you do what you’re doin’, keeps me comin back for more. Keep it rollin baaabbyyy. Okay that was the Isley Brother’s in case you didn’t know. The somethin’ somethin’ wasn’t in the actual song but I couldn’t remember the lines. Well with six post under my belt, I’m finally headed to bed. No more late nights for me. Yeah right. I’ll see you tomorrow at 1. In the AM that is.
Peace and Love.
(Man... 7,347 words and four frosties... ummm feels good don't it.)
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Relapse.
Damn. I'm running around in circles over here. I almost feel drunk. I am four post in and about to stab myself in the eye because I feel like this post will be trash in comparison to yesterday. But, I have to remember that I don't have to be emo to feel accomplished. This is a learning process. So if five is worse than four that's fine. Just as long as six is better than five. No relapsing around here. This ain't no drug habit.
So this is actually my third post I’ve started today. I'll end up finishing the others later. Just know that the first line of one is, "You can go ahead and kiss my ass now if you think Kobe is the next Mike." Yeah I know it needs a little work. I just don't have the time or the patience to really write something I would be happy with at the moment.Today's post is not going to have any direction what so ever. So these are just my thoughts.
Gilly Heads.
Assuming you all don't know, let me in form you now. My favorite player currently playing in the NBA is Gilbert Arenas, also known to me as Gilly (he hates that name by the way). Well, it’s kind of funny because by the time I'll get to see Gil in person I should be about 150-175 blogs in and about that many words in the thousands. What is funny about that is he is really the reason why I'm blogging now. He has been blogging for two years through the NBA's Fan Voice. (You should really make a point to read them they're hilarious.) Well anyway, I have some big plans to market myself and my blog for next season. I am going to attend every basketball game Gilbert plays in California permitting he is not playing for a California team, in which then I'll be going to more than four but less than 46. I will see him twice in LA, once in the Bay Area, and once in Sacramento. I am planning on going to every game with a I love Gilbert shirt on and a BIG ASS GILLY HEAD. I don't know how many of you watch basketball consistently but the New Orleans Hornets had a genius idea to market Peja. They have these guys running up and down the aisles with huge cardboard cut outs of Peja's head. Well my head is going to be a little different. I will just sit in the stands with a four foot tall gilly head but on the back its going to say "Blog About Me (http://www.betterthanyourbetter.blogspot.com/)" I am going to be mentioned in Gilbert's blog next year and when I do I'll be sure to send you the link.
I do not like Kobe Bryant or the Lakers.
However, that does not mean I'm crazy enough to say they are not great. I was born and raised a Chicago Bulls fan and in case you don't know me I'm 22 years old. This means most of my “growing up years” were in the 90’s when Chicago ran the NBA. So when I say I am a Chicago fan that means I'm still a Chicago fan, Joakim Noah and all. So for those of you who still cannot fathom why it is okay for someone like me to not be a Lakers fan let me further explain. I will preserve the legacy of my favorite player of all time for the remainder of my natural life. So when some kid comes in the league dominating I do not feel as if they should just start slapping labels on him, calling him the next Michael Jordan and what not. No. So for that reason I cannot bring myself to "like" Kobe Bryant. Ever since he came in the league all I can remember is the comparison talk I hate so much. Kobe will never be Michael Jordan but I will touch on that more later. So, by default I would dislike any team Kobe was on. He could have stayed with Charlotte and I would have disliked the Hornets. It does not matter to me. I don't dislike Kobe because he allegedly raped that white girl. I don't dislike Kobe because he is a raw scorer. I don't dislike Kobe because he has a fucked up attitude and he's selfish. I dislike Kobe for one reason only, and it’s not even his fault. But really, is it ever?
Why Kobe will never be Mike.
There will never be another Michael Jordan again, ever. Just like there will never be another Larry Bird, another Magic Johnson, another Charles Barkley, another Domonique Wilks, another Julius Earving, I mean, these guys are legends because they were themselves. They were a unprecedented commodity that blessed the NBA with years of talent and rivalries. I know there will never be another Kobe Bryant, another LeBron James, another Gilbert Arenas (had to throw that in there). Let's not waste time comparing the two and let dude be who he is, Kobe mutha fuckin Bryant. The guy who scored 81 points. The guy who will always be the most raw scorer in the history of the NBA. No one can take that away from him. No one. So why does everyone consistently want to take Mike's accomplishments away from him? I was reading the USA Today this morning and on the front of the sports section there was a article about how Kobe Bryant has matched Jordan's skills but he will never match his likeability. Who gives a fuck? Really. What Kobe does off the court, sexing up 19 year old front desk clerks, ratting his teammates out, demanding trades, that is none of our business. Let the man do as he pleases and stop judging him. No he is not a role model for your children, you are. No he is not the one who should be setting examples for your children, you are. So stop being so hard on him. All he wants is to be an individual who stands alone on his accomplishments. I know there are things that you or I may not like about him, but why tarnish his God given talents for that. Kobe deserved the MVP award this season, and I'm happy he received it. Had he not after a season like this, I know he would never receive one. Ever. In my opinion, Mike and KB don't even remotely play the same style of game. They just play the same position, and for that they are constantly compared. Let Michael’s legacy stand and let Kobe create his own. I feel sorry for the kid that comes in the league in five years because every thing he does will be compared to Kobe Bryant. His likeability, his style of play, and his choices off the court will all play a role in his success. I would love to say we’ll move forward from this comparison game. However, I know we will not, and you know what? That is a damn shame.
It’s 1am.
It took me forever to write today. A little here and a little there, but no words that just flowed from my fingertips like on a good day. I'm forcing words now. Everything I wrote earlier is forced, but I can't bring myself to stop yet. If I am going to reach 100,000 words by the end of the summer I cannot have many more days like this. The problem is I do not just want 100,000 forced words. I do not want just a whole bunch of rubbish. I want 100,000 words I am going to want to read again. Today I told my mom about my goal and how I have been slacking on my writing today. She said, “It is okay. You don’t have to write everyday. Who knows, tomorrow you just might write 5,000 words.” I doubt it. But, I hope something will flow tomorrow, well today. =/
Being their support.
I had someone thank me for supporting them today. But little do they know they support me way more than I ever could them. I know for a fact I would not be up this late writing had it not been for those encouraging words I receive every day on their behalf. Friendships are crazy sometimes. You meet someone and never know that even years later you will be the best of friends. You never know you will have so much in common. People are placed in your life for a reason, a season, or a life time. And I always shoot for two of the three. And in this special friendship I am lucky to have that. I know I would not be here today, writing 1,300 words shooting for 100,000 had I not had someone to share it with. So for your support, your friendship, and just being you, I thank you.
Doing things everyday.
I am setting a goal to finish my DVD library this summer. I will be spending a better part of my blogs explaining what I loved about the movie and what I hated about it. Not really a synopsis, but more of a review. I’m still on my frosty kick. I’m three frosties into my summer. It’s funny because I’m going to start relating time to words and frosties. “Oh you know 10,000 words and 8 frosties ago.” Damn. Also, this is my usual time to get my work out on. I do not work out at all for nine months of the year. I mean at all at all. But everyday of summer I swim at least 30 minutes. I always feel good in the summer and I know this is why. There is just something about working out everyday. I can wake up earlier in the morning. I tend to eat better. I am just in a better mood all around. I’m sure this will have a positive effect on my writing.
It’s 2am.
I need to rest my head, my mind, and my fingertips. I’m sorry to disappoint. This was 1,700 words of pure garbage. However, tomorrow is a new day, and like I said six will be better than five.
Peace and Love.
So this is actually my third post I’ve started today. I'll end up finishing the others later. Just know that the first line of one is, "You can go ahead and kiss my ass now if you think Kobe is the next Mike." Yeah I know it needs a little work. I just don't have the time or the patience to really write something I would be happy with at the moment.Today's post is not going to have any direction what so ever. So these are just my thoughts.
Gilly Heads.
Assuming you all don't know, let me in form you now. My favorite player currently playing in the NBA is Gilbert Arenas, also known to me as Gilly (he hates that name by the way). Well, it’s kind of funny because by the time I'll get to see Gil in person I should be about 150-175 blogs in and about that many words in the thousands. What is funny about that is he is really the reason why I'm blogging now. He has been blogging for two years through the NBA's Fan Voice. (You should really make a point to read them they're hilarious.) Well anyway, I have some big plans to market myself and my blog for next season. I am going to attend every basketball game Gilbert plays in California permitting he is not playing for a California team, in which then I'll be going to more than four but less than 46. I will see him twice in LA, once in the Bay Area, and once in Sacramento. I am planning on going to every game with a I love Gilbert shirt on and a BIG ASS GILLY HEAD. I don't know how many of you watch basketball consistently but the New Orleans Hornets had a genius idea to market Peja. They have these guys running up and down the aisles with huge cardboard cut outs of Peja's head. Well my head is going to be a little different. I will just sit in the stands with a four foot tall gilly head but on the back its going to say "Blog About Me (http://www.betterthanyourbetter.blogspot.com/)" I am going to be mentioned in Gilbert's blog next year and when I do I'll be sure to send you the link.
I do not like Kobe Bryant or the Lakers.
However, that does not mean I'm crazy enough to say they are not great. I was born and raised a Chicago Bulls fan and in case you don't know me I'm 22 years old. This means most of my “growing up years” were in the 90’s when Chicago ran the NBA. So when I say I am a Chicago fan that means I'm still a Chicago fan, Joakim Noah and all. So for those of you who still cannot fathom why it is okay for someone like me to not be a Lakers fan let me further explain. I will preserve the legacy of my favorite player of all time for the remainder of my natural life. So when some kid comes in the league dominating I do not feel as if they should just start slapping labels on him, calling him the next Michael Jordan and what not. No. So for that reason I cannot bring myself to "like" Kobe Bryant. Ever since he came in the league all I can remember is the comparison talk I hate so much. Kobe will never be Michael Jordan but I will touch on that more later. So, by default I would dislike any team Kobe was on. He could have stayed with Charlotte and I would have disliked the Hornets. It does not matter to me. I don't dislike Kobe because he allegedly raped that white girl. I don't dislike Kobe because he is a raw scorer. I don't dislike Kobe because he has a fucked up attitude and he's selfish. I dislike Kobe for one reason only, and it’s not even his fault. But really, is it ever?
Why Kobe will never be Mike.
There will never be another Michael Jordan again, ever. Just like there will never be another Larry Bird, another Magic Johnson, another Charles Barkley, another Domonique Wilks, another Julius Earving, I mean, these guys are legends because they were themselves. They were a unprecedented commodity that blessed the NBA with years of talent and rivalries. I know there will never be another Kobe Bryant, another LeBron James, another Gilbert Arenas (had to throw that in there). Let's not waste time comparing the two and let dude be who he is, Kobe mutha fuckin Bryant. The guy who scored 81 points. The guy who will always be the most raw scorer in the history of the NBA. No one can take that away from him. No one. So why does everyone consistently want to take Mike's accomplishments away from him? I was reading the USA Today this morning and on the front of the sports section there was a article about how Kobe Bryant has matched Jordan's skills but he will never match his likeability. Who gives a fuck? Really. What Kobe does off the court, sexing up 19 year old front desk clerks, ratting his teammates out, demanding trades, that is none of our business. Let the man do as he pleases and stop judging him. No he is not a role model for your children, you are. No he is not the one who should be setting examples for your children, you are. So stop being so hard on him. All he wants is to be an individual who stands alone on his accomplishments. I know there are things that you or I may not like about him, but why tarnish his God given talents for that. Kobe deserved the MVP award this season, and I'm happy he received it. Had he not after a season like this, I know he would never receive one. Ever. In my opinion, Mike and KB don't even remotely play the same style of game. They just play the same position, and for that they are constantly compared. Let Michael’s legacy stand and let Kobe create his own. I feel sorry for the kid that comes in the league in five years because every thing he does will be compared to Kobe Bryant. His likeability, his style of play, and his choices off the court will all play a role in his success. I would love to say we’ll move forward from this comparison game. However, I know we will not, and you know what? That is a damn shame.
It’s 1am.
It took me forever to write today. A little here and a little there, but no words that just flowed from my fingertips like on a good day. I'm forcing words now. Everything I wrote earlier is forced, but I can't bring myself to stop yet. If I am going to reach 100,000 words by the end of the summer I cannot have many more days like this. The problem is I do not just want 100,000 forced words. I do not want just a whole bunch of rubbish. I want 100,000 words I am going to want to read again. Today I told my mom about my goal and how I have been slacking on my writing today. She said, “It is okay. You don’t have to write everyday. Who knows, tomorrow you just might write 5,000 words.” I doubt it. But, I hope something will flow tomorrow, well today. =/
Being their support.
I had someone thank me for supporting them today. But little do they know they support me way more than I ever could them. I know for a fact I would not be up this late writing had it not been for those encouraging words I receive every day on their behalf. Friendships are crazy sometimes. You meet someone and never know that even years later you will be the best of friends. You never know you will have so much in common. People are placed in your life for a reason, a season, or a life time. And I always shoot for two of the three. And in this special friendship I am lucky to have that. I know I would not be here today, writing 1,300 words shooting for 100,000 had I not had someone to share it with. So for your support, your friendship, and just being you, I thank you.
Doing things everyday.
I am setting a goal to finish my DVD library this summer. I will be spending a better part of my blogs explaining what I loved about the movie and what I hated about it. Not really a synopsis, but more of a review. I’m still on my frosty kick. I’m three frosties into my summer. It’s funny because I’m going to start relating time to words and frosties. “Oh you know 10,000 words and 8 frosties ago.” Damn. Also, this is my usual time to get my work out on. I do not work out at all for nine months of the year. I mean at all at all. But everyday of summer I swim at least 30 minutes. I always feel good in the summer and I know this is why. There is just something about working out everyday. I can wake up earlier in the morning. I tend to eat better. I am just in a better mood all around. I’m sure this will have a positive effect on my writing.
It’s 2am.
I need to rest my head, my mind, and my fingertips. I’m sorry to disappoint. This was 1,700 words of pure garbage. However, tomorrow is a new day, and like I said six will be better than five.
Peace and Love.
(5,449 words and counting...)
P.S. I did not count Kanye's words from the song yesterday. I forgot to make that known. Oh and hundred thou... here we come.
Monday, June 9, 2008
I wonder.
Blog number four. Frosty number two. Emotion number one.
For the majority of my life I used basketball to help me through any and every emotion. If I was happy, I played basketball. If I was sad I played basketball. Stressed, basketball. Angry, basketball. Each day the end result was the same. I was a little better than I was before. I don't have that anymore. I don't have the time or the desire to just pick up a ball and go shoot like I did when I was young. Its been eight years since my first knee surgery and this year will be four for the second. I can count on my hands how many times I've picked up a ball since then. Lucky for me, I found a new way to deal.
From time to time I find a song that really tells the tale of my life at the moment. I love to listen to it over and over and analyze each line in relation to my life. There are days when I know the song was written for me, for this moment. Well, welcome to my life. Welcome to this moment.
I wonder by Kanye West.
Find your dreams come true.
And I wonder if you know.
What it means, what it means.
And I wonder if you know.
What it means, what it means.
To find your dreams.
Wow. Dreams. We all have them. Be it big or small, we all have them. Some of us want to be doctors, lawyers, college professors. Some of us just want to be a wife or a husband, have a family. None of those satisfy me and sometimes that scares me. Are my ambitions to big to obtain? No. At least that's what I keep telling myself. I always sit and wonder why I am the way I am and what makes me tick. Instead of trying to figure other people out, I try to analyze myself. I am so sick and tired of people telling me what they think I want or who they think I am. Nobody knows me if I don't know myself, so please just stop trying. I know who I am and I know where I'm going, but if I haven't even figured out what makes me me, then what makes you think you could? Do you know why I don't honestly give a fuck about you, why I run through friends like socks, why I push away every single person who has done nothing but good for me? No? Me neither. Do you see? Do you see what I'm trying to say? Don't judge me. Allow me to be myself and grow and just appreciate the fact, as taboo as it may sound, I just might be different than you. I have goals and dreams too. It just may take me a little longer than you to accomplish them. You want to know my dream? I want someone to pay for something I wrote, and think it was amazing. I want to be the most arrogant bitch around because I know I've perfected my craft, not because I know I will be. Think about your dreams before you go analyzing mine, because I know you didn't think I was going to write that.
I've been waiting on this my whole life.
These dreams be wakin' me up at night.
You say I think I'm never wrong.
You know what, maybe you're right, aight?
And I wonder if you know.
What it means, what it means.
And I wonder if you know.
What it means to find your dreams.
I have been waiting for this moment. Waiting for the day when I found exactly what defined me. Basketball always defined me, and that's fine. No, its better than fine, its great. I love that game more than I love my friends because even through the bad times it never let me down. I blew out both of my knees, I was layed up in the bed for months, I've been bitter for days about losses I didn't even play in. A lot of people don't get that. They just can't comprehend why I am so consumed by something as minor as sports. Well you know what? Those people don't know what its like to be passionate about something. My gears have switched but they are the same nonetheless. I am still always going to be passionate about basketball, but now, I've found a way to share my passion with the world. And more importantly, people who would appreciate it.
You say I think I'm never wrong. You know what you are right, aight. I know I'm never wrong. I know that whatever I write, whatever I say is right even when its wrong. It takes a strong person to be like me. I very strong person. I am fascinated with people who don't take shit from anyone. They know what they want and they go get it. There is nothing wrong with being arrogant and frankly, I hate it has such a negative connotation. Being arrogant is hard. But look at all the arrogant people you know, with the exception of me, they all have money, they are happy, and they have perfected their craft. Let me quote one of my new favorite people, NFL star Chad Johnson aka Ocho Cinco, "In order to have fun you have to be cocky and arrogant. But swagger comes from confidence and confidence comes from hard work." So with that, you see why its so important for me to write everyday, sacrifice my time that I would be spending having fun, to work hard. To improve on my gift as he has improved on his own.
You say he gets on your fuckin' nerves.
You hope that he gets what he deserves.
Do you even remember what the issue is?
You just tryna find where the tissue is.
You can still be who you wish you is.
It ain't happened yet that's what the intuition is.
You hop back in the car, drive back to the crib
Run back to they arms.
The smokescreens, the chokes and the screams.
Do you ever wonder what they all really mean?
And I wonder if you know.
What it means, what it means.
And I wonder if you know.
What it means, to find your dreams.
For the majority of my life I used basketball to help me through any and every emotion. If I was happy, I played basketball. If I was sad I played basketball. Stressed, basketball. Angry, basketball. Each day the end result was the same. I was a little better than I was before. I don't have that anymore. I don't have the time or the desire to just pick up a ball and go shoot like I did when I was young. Its been eight years since my first knee surgery and this year will be four for the second. I can count on my hands how many times I've picked up a ball since then. Lucky for me, I found a new way to deal.
From time to time I find a song that really tells the tale of my life at the moment. I love to listen to it over and over and analyze each line in relation to my life. There are days when I know the song was written for me, for this moment. Well, welcome to my life. Welcome to this moment.
I wonder by Kanye West.
Find your dreams come true.
And I wonder if you know.
What it means, what it means.
And I wonder if you know.
What it means, what it means.
To find your dreams.
Wow. Dreams. We all have them. Be it big or small, we all have them. Some of us want to be doctors, lawyers, college professors. Some of us just want to be a wife or a husband, have a family. None of those satisfy me and sometimes that scares me. Are my ambitions to big to obtain? No. At least that's what I keep telling myself. I always sit and wonder why I am the way I am and what makes me tick. Instead of trying to figure other people out, I try to analyze myself. I am so sick and tired of people telling me what they think I want or who they think I am. Nobody knows me if I don't know myself, so please just stop trying. I know who I am and I know where I'm going, but if I haven't even figured out what makes me me, then what makes you think you could? Do you know why I don't honestly give a fuck about you, why I run through friends like socks, why I push away every single person who has done nothing but good for me? No? Me neither. Do you see? Do you see what I'm trying to say? Don't judge me. Allow me to be myself and grow and just appreciate the fact, as taboo as it may sound, I just might be different than you. I have goals and dreams too. It just may take me a little longer than you to accomplish them. You want to know my dream? I want someone to pay for something I wrote, and think it was amazing. I want to be the most arrogant bitch around because I know I've perfected my craft, not because I know I will be. Think about your dreams before you go analyzing mine, because I know you didn't think I was going to write that.
I've been waiting on this my whole life.
These dreams be wakin' me up at night.
You say I think I'm never wrong.
You know what, maybe you're right, aight?
And I wonder if you know.
What it means, what it means.
And I wonder if you know.
What it means to find your dreams.
I have been waiting for this moment. Waiting for the day when I found exactly what defined me. Basketball always defined me, and that's fine. No, its better than fine, its great. I love that game more than I love my friends because even through the bad times it never let me down. I blew out both of my knees, I was layed up in the bed for months, I've been bitter for days about losses I didn't even play in. A lot of people don't get that. They just can't comprehend why I am so consumed by something as minor as sports. Well you know what? Those people don't know what its like to be passionate about something. My gears have switched but they are the same nonetheless. I am still always going to be passionate about basketball, but now, I've found a way to share my passion with the world. And more importantly, people who would appreciate it.
You say I think I'm never wrong. You know what you are right, aight. I know I'm never wrong. I know that whatever I write, whatever I say is right even when its wrong. It takes a strong person to be like me. I very strong person. I am fascinated with people who don't take shit from anyone. They know what they want and they go get it. There is nothing wrong with being arrogant and frankly, I hate it has such a negative connotation. Being arrogant is hard. But look at all the arrogant people you know, with the exception of me, they all have money, they are happy, and they have perfected their craft. Let me quote one of my new favorite people, NFL star Chad Johnson aka Ocho Cinco, "In order to have fun you have to be cocky and arrogant. But swagger comes from confidence and confidence comes from hard work." So with that, you see why its so important for me to write everyday, sacrifice my time that I would be spending having fun, to work hard. To improve on my gift as he has improved on his own.
You say he gets on your fuckin' nerves.
You hope that he gets what he deserves.
Do you even remember what the issue is?
You just tryna find where the tissue is.
You can still be who you wish you is.
It ain't happened yet that's what the intuition is.
You hop back in the car, drive back to the crib
Run back to they arms.
The smokescreens, the chokes and the screams.
Do you ever wonder what they all really mean?
And I wonder if you know.
What it means, what it means.
And I wonder if you know.
What it means, to find your dreams.
I did say that. Those words spewed from my mouth. And ever since they left I knew I was wrong. But being who I am I know I can't come back from that. I'm too stubborn. I'm always right, even when I'm wrong. But is this the price you pay for knowing that you're right? Do you continue to run from what could have been great because you're stubborn? No. You don't run. You stop and you think and you evaluate. You listen to your mind and your heart and what they have to say. Not your boys or your girls because they don't have a damn thing to say you don't already know. And let's be honest, you aren't going to listen to them anyway. I do not remember what the issue is. But I'm a big girl so no more tears here. All I can do now is wait and see if I still have time to be who I wish is. Or if that is even what is supposed to happen.
I hopped back in the car. Drove back to the crib. Ran back to they arms. But this time those arms weren't there. They had closed to me and opened to someone else. You invest so much time and grow together to both come out great for someone else? Is that how life is supposed to go? You groom each other to not reap the benefits of a better, older, wiser person? Sometimes yes. Most of the time yes. All of the time yes. It sucks but sometimes it just happens that way. "The smoke screens the chokes and the screams/do you ever wonder what they all really mean?" All the time. I wonder.
And I'm back on my grind.
A psychic read my lifeline.
Told me in my life time.
My name would help light up the Chicago skyline
And that's why I'm
Seven o'clock that's prime time.
Heaven'll watch God's callin' me from the hotlines.
Why he keep givin' me the hotlines?
I'm a star how could I not shine?
I am back on my grind, in life and in love. I don't need a psychic to tell me I'm going to shine. I make my future and its looking bright enough to outshine Yeezy and his skyline. Sky's the limit for people like me and in due time all you naysayers will see. I don't have time to listen to your analyzations, your lies, your predictions. I am me. And I am the only one who can determine my future (It was not my intention for that to rhyme by the way).
Where's all the ladies in the house?
Where's all the ladies in the house without a spouse?
Somethin' in your blouse got me feelin' so aroused. What you about?
On that independent shit.
Trade it all for a husband and some kids.
You ever wonder what it all really means?
You wonder if you'll ever find your dreams?
I always wonder what it all really means, but now I never wonder if I'm going to find my dreams.
Peace and Love
(3,732 words, and counting...)
Oh and I have a new goal. I'm not going to stop writing everyday until I get to 1,000,000 words. That's right a millie. Stay tuned.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
You've got your child tattooed on your back you're so excited about it...
"If life is what you make of it... why do we waste time waiting for it?"
Day in and day out I find myself not utilizing the time I am given. Each of us only has 24 hours each day. However, I feel as if most days I'm only using about ten of them. Even when I am in places where I am supposed to be productive, you know, like school and work, I still find ways to be lazy. I'm assuming tackling that feat is something I am trying to achieve by writing everyday. I also came to the conclusion I will be eating a frosty from Wendy's every of summer too. I hope my writing follows me into the rest of my year but definitely not the ice cream.
Yesterday was eventful. I found myself being a horrible host (my cousin is in town) but also doing some things I desperately needed to do. I spent the better part of my day moving a friend into a new house, napping in that new house, and eating fish from an old spot of ours. I am so confused right now I don't know what to do. But that's another story I'll never bring myself to tell, not even to myself.
On a much lighter note, I finally figured out what I wanted to write about today. I was going to write about why I think the Phoenix Suns failed so miserably, however instead I chose a topic everyone would enjoy. So here you go…
TOP 3 REASONS I DO NOT WANT CHILDREN.
1. I am not dating nor married to anyone attractive enough, tall enough, or boss enough to impregnate me.
Not only do I consider myself to be an attractive woman but also one who possesses quite a bit of brains. I know God blessed me with immense amounts of intelligence, beauty, life experience, and most of all athletic ability. All of those come hand in hand when finding a mate. If in the event I ever lay a brood of children they will all have a five feet nine inch mother (I hear that's the average height for males nowadays) and a six foot and some change father. That change will be at least two or three inches by the way. Call me picky. Call me unreasonable. I do not care. I will just say I have preferences. And as of late, I have yet to find someone to fit the criteria. I will not settle for less when it comes to raising someone who will essentially be a part of me. I do not want to attach my name to anything I'm not happy with. So nothing but over six foot, light skinned, handsome, athletic males will do. (No women. No periods. No risk of short slave hair.) Call me a perfectionist.
2. Children are the most expensive bill of your life.
Okay, let's think about this. You paid for the bed you were impregnated on or impregnated someone on. So maybe you didn't pay for it per say. Maybe it was at a friend’s house (now isn't that one for the grand kids). For my story's sake you are married and you paid for this magical bed. So that's one thing you've paid for and you aren't even pregnant yet. Then you miss your period (assuming you're a woman). Or your girl's missed her period, you both are scared shitless. That just cost you a few years off your life and you still don't know for certain if you're pregnant. So the minute you/your girl is late you/your girl runs out and purchases that dreaded pregnancy test. I've never had to buy one so I don't know how much they cost. But by the looks of those new commercials with the digital "yes you've ruined your life"/"no you'll live another day but you keep this up doom will sure follow" signs they have to be in the $10.00 range. So what's that? The bed, the years off your life, and now a $10.00 pregnancy test. Damn. And you ain’t even showing yet.
Okay, so now you're pregnant. And I'm sorry but I don't like children enough to know how much all that messy formula, diapers, clothes, you know... the works cost. But I’m sure it's a lot. I do not feel the need to go into detail about how much money you will be spending over the course of your life time on these little rugrats. Who frankly, will likely grow up to be big rugrats you will still be paying for. Think to yourself. I don't care how old you are. As long as your parents are still living, there is sometime or another in the past year they have tossed a little cheddar your way. See, lifers. I'm just not down for all that. Do you know how many season basketball tickets I could buy with what I would spend raising a child. And I want one of you to convince me that floor seats at the Lakers (I don't even like the Lakers, it was more of a status analogy) isn't better than your little bundle of joy.
3. I will not ever tolerate a child that needs a leash.
Man. Kids are bad now a days. Friday night on our way to karaoke we stopped by Albertson's to pick up a few things. The minute I walked in I noticed a man holding what looked like a leash. My eyes moved slowly from the man's hand down the canvas strap to what looked like a little rodent, but ended up being his son. I was astonished. I mean a leash? His child was strapped in like a animal... on a leash. Can I blame him? No. Should you? Fuck no. In just the past three days I've ran into three children that were worthy of a leash. Is it the parents fault? You bet your ass it is. But there are some children that are just bad by nature.
Let me explain. It was about two days ago I joined my mother for a burger at In N Out. During the course of our meal there was this little bad ass Mexican kid running around the joint. I mean literally running. Sliding. Falling. Making a goddamn mess. He had on a shirt that was two sizes too small. His belly was hanging out over his pants. He had ketchup all over his face and hands. This kid was filthy. I look over at his mom who had a lot of about five with her and she was playing with little Juan's happy meal toy. (I don't know what they call them at In N Out). Well anyway, the kid wasn't even bothering me or my Mom because we all know my mom would have tripped his little ass. I felt more concern for people who were sitting behind him. You know those glass partitions In N Out uses to separate their booths? Well this kid is standing on his mother's shoulders screaming at the couple who were trying to enjoy their double doubles. Maria had to be high because there is no way she could have been sober letting her kid mount her like a horse. No way. Now if Maria would have had little Juan in a leash none of this would have even happened.
Life is good when you have no children. I mean, I’m happy. I don’t need any snotty nosed, bald headed, badass to validate my greatness. I can do that shit on my own. If you didn’t know, before you know now. Don’t expect to be invited to no baby shower. And that’s real.
Peace and Love
(2,470 words and counting)
P.S. Laker fans… You mad?
Day in and day out I find myself not utilizing the time I am given. Each of us only has 24 hours each day. However, I feel as if most days I'm only using about ten of them. Even when I am in places where I am supposed to be productive, you know, like school and work, I still find ways to be lazy. I'm assuming tackling that feat is something I am trying to achieve by writing everyday. I also came to the conclusion I will be eating a frosty from Wendy's every of summer too. I hope my writing follows me into the rest of my year but definitely not the ice cream.
Yesterday was eventful. I found myself being a horrible host (my cousin is in town) but also doing some things I desperately needed to do. I spent the better part of my day moving a friend into a new house, napping in that new house, and eating fish from an old spot of ours. I am so confused right now I don't know what to do. But that's another story I'll never bring myself to tell, not even to myself.
On a much lighter note, I finally figured out what I wanted to write about today. I was going to write about why I think the Phoenix Suns failed so miserably, however instead I chose a topic everyone would enjoy. So here you go…
TOP 3 REASONS I DO NOT WANT CHILDREN.
1. I am not dating nor married to anyone attractive enough, tall enough, or boss enough to impregnate me.
Not only do I consider myself to be an attractive woman but also one who possesses quite a bit of brains. I know God blessed me with immense amounts of intelligence, beauty, life experience, and most of all athletic ability. All of those come hand in hand when finding a mate. If in the event I ever lay a brood of children they will all have a five feet nine inch mother (I hear that's the average height for males nowadays) and a six foot and some change father. That change will be at least two or three inches by the way. Call me picky. Call me unreasonable. I do not care. I will just say I have preferences. And as of late, I have yet to find someone to fit the criteria. I will not settle for less when it comes to raising someone who will essentially be a part of me. I do not want to attach my name to anything I'm not happy with. So nothing but over six foot, light skinned, handsome, athletic males will do. (No women. No periods. No risk of short slave hair.) Call me a perfectionist.
2. Children are the most expensive bill of your life.
Okay, let's think about this. You paid for the bed you were impregnated on or impregnated someone on. So maybe you didn't pay for it per say. Maybe it was at a friend’s house (now isn't that one for the grand kids). For my story's sake you are married and you paid for this magical bed. So that's one thing you've paid for and you aren't even pregnant yet. Then you miss your period (assuming you're a woman). Or your girl's missed her period, you both are scared shitless. That just cost you a few years off your life and you still don't know for certain if you're pregnant. So the minute you/your girl is late you/your girl runs out and purchases that dreaded pregnancy test. I've never had to buy one so I don't know how much they cost. But by the looks of those new commercials with the digital "yes you've ruined your life"/"no you'll live another day but you keep this up doom will sure follow" signs they have to be in the $10.00 range. So what's that? The bed, the years off your life, and now a $10.00 pregnancy test. Damn. And you ain’t even showing yet.
Okay, so now you're pregnant. And I'm sorry but I don't like children enough to know how much all that messy formula, diapers, clothes, you know... the works cost. But I’m sure it's a lot. I do not feel the need to go into detail about how much money you will be spending over the course of your life time on these little rugrats. Who frankly, will likely grow up to be big rugrats you will still be paying for. Think to yourself. I don't care how old you are. As long as your parents are still living, there is sometime or another in the past year they have tossed a little cheddar your way. See, lifers. I'm just not down for all that. Do you know how many season basketball tickets I could buy with what I would spend raising a child. And I want one of you to convince me that floor seats at the Lakers (I don't even like the Lakers, it was more of a status analogy) isn't better than your little bundle of joy.
3. I will not ever tolerate a child that needs a leash.
Man. Kids are bad now a days. Friday night on our way to karaoke we stopped by Albertson's to pick up a few things. The minute I walked in I noticed a man holding what looked like a leash. My eyes moved slowly from the man's hand down the canvas strap to what looked like a little rodent, but ended up being his son. I was astonished. I mean a leash? His child was strapped in like a animal... on a leash. Can I blame him? No. Should you? Fuck no. In just the past three days I've ran into three children that were worthy of a leash. Is it the parents fault? You bet your ass it is. But there are some children that are just bad by nature.
Let me explain. It was about two days ago I joined my mother for a burger at In N Out. During the course of our meal there was this little bad ass Mexican kid running around the joint. I mean literally running. Sliding. Falling. Making a goddamn mess. He had on a shirt that was two sizes too small. His belly was hanging out over his pants. He had ketchup all over his face and hands. This kid was filthy. I look over at his mom who had a lot of about five with her and she was playing with little Juan's happy meal toy. (I don't know what they call them at In N Out). Well anyway, the kid wasn't even bothering me or my Mom because we all know my mom would have tripped his little ass. I felt more concern for people who were sitting behind him. You know those glass partitions In N Out uses to separate their booths? Well this kid is standing on his mother's shoulders screaming at the couple who were trying to enjoy their double doubles. Maria had to be high because there is no way she could have been sober letting her kid mount her like a horse. No way. Now if Maria would have had little Juan in a leash none of this would have even happened.
Life is good when you have no children. I mean, I’m happy. I don’t need any snotty nosed, bald headed, badass to validate my greatness. I can do that shit on my own. If you didn’t know, before you know now. Don’t expect to be invited to no baby shower. And that’s real.
Peace and Love
(2,470 words and counting)
P.S. Laker fans… You mad?
Friday, June 6, 2008
As promised. See if you ain't heard.
I met a woman named Ursula today. She was wearing a leather vest and looked a little like Ms. Flint on Monsters Inc. (I couldn't find a picture yet).
Exactly why we karaoke:
Wow. Last night was hands down the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I looked fly. My girls did too. We turned the Junction out. I’m sure just about every Saturday from here on out I will have something to say about my time at the Junction Friday night. Everything I’m about to say may seem like an exaggeration. But it’s not.
The true stories of the Conjunction Junction What’s Your Function:
First allow me to explain this place I just so happen to visit every Friday night. There are plenty of Caucasians wearing cow boy boots and hats. There are other Caucasians wearing whatever they wear when they step out of a trailer. So, if you haven’t seen what I look like yet, let me be the first to tell you, I don’t quite fit in. I am 5’9, Black, and wear a huge curly ‘fro on my head. I wear sneakers and jeans and last night I had to bring out the big guns in my new Hundreds T. There is a bar that is occupied with cow girls and cow boys courting each other. There is a stage that is occupied by a single man who is missing most of his teeth (he is the DJ/Karaoke Master). He has a little corner with a lone CD player and a fold up table in which he keeps extra microphones. The Bartender is a liar. The waitress is drunk. And every one in there stares at us when we walk in the door. Do I blame them? No. I guess if the boot was on the other foot I might do that too.
Well, when we walk in we head straight for a table. I knew the lying bartender from a previous “club” in Bakersfield so he gave me the proverbial head nod and point. You know the one. The drunk waitress approached Shanyia and said, “Are you guys going to sing?” Shanyia replied with, “of course” and a slight shake of the head. I should have known the night would be great from just those two moments.
We all gathered around the table having had finished a full size bottle of SoCo in the parking lot just minutes before. My buzz was starting to kick in as I approached the two of the only other three black people in the whole establishment.
Me: “Hey, do you mind if I look at that book?” (The book with all the songs in it)
Black Lady: “Yes.”
Me: “Yes you do mind or yes you don’t?”
Black Man: “Yes we do.”
Me: “Ok. Why? I mean aren’t they here for everyone to share?”
Black Lady: “We brought this. This is our own copy of the book. We are regulars and we have about 65 songs we sing here three nights a week. So yes, I do mind.”
Me: “Damn. I mean, are you getting paid? I mean you must be if you’re here so often.”
Black Lady: “No. I don’t get paid. But there have been plenty of times when I have received tips.”
Me: “So you used your tip money to buy that binder from the dude with no teeth?”
Black Man: “Yes, we did. Who are you to judge me?”
Me: “I’m not judging you. I haven’t heard you sing yet. I just wanted to see the binder. It’s cool. Just don’t mess up. Or I’ll boo that ass.”
Needless to say we found another book. And the likes of which we chose to sing are but are not limited to the following:
Jumpin’ Jumpin’- Destiny’s Child
Get Down On it- Kool and the Gang
Wannabe- Spice Girls
Déjà vu- Beyonce feat. Jay-Z
And I’m sure there are others I don’t remember.
The night proceeded to blur on. Songs were sung. People danced. And everyone was merry.
Life is good at the Junction. It’s a place you can sing your worries away. Where cow girls and boys rub elbows with sneaker wearing, SoCo drinking, basketball lovers.
I didn’t know a word to that damn Kool in the Gang song but I’ll tell you what, I did work that crowd like it was my damn job. I see why that black couple took it so seriously. The Junction ain’t no joke.
Peace and Love
(word count to date... 1,170)
Exactly why we karaoke:
Wow. Last night was hands down the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I looked fly. My girls did too. We turned the Junction out. I’m sure just about every Saturday from here on out I will have something to say about my time at the Junction Friday night. Everything I’m about to say may seem like an exaggeration. But it’s not.
The true stories of the Conjunction Junction What’s Your Function:
First allow me to explain this place I just so happen to visit every Friday night. There are plenty of Caucasians wearing cow boy boots and hats. There are other Caucasians wearing whatever they wear when they step out of a trailer. So, if you haven’t seen what I look like yet, let me be the first to tell you, I don’t quite fit in. I am 5’9, Black, and wear a huge curly ‘fro on my head. I wear sneakers and jeans and last night I had to bring out the big guns in my new Hundreds T. There is a bar that is occupied with cow girls and cow boys courting each other. There is a stage that is occupied by a single man who is missing most of his teeth (he is the DJ/Karaoke Master). He has a little corner with a lone CD player and a fold up table in which he keeps extra microphones. The Bartender is a liar. The waitress is drunk. And every one in there stares at us when we walk in the door. Do I blame them? No. I guess if the boot was on the other foot I might do that too.
Well, when we walk in we head straight for a table. I knew the lying bartender from a previous “club” in Bakersfield so he gave me the proverbial head nod and point. You know the one. The drunk waitress approached Shanyia and said, “Are you guys going to sing?” Shanyia replied with, “of course” and a slight shake of the head. I should have known the night would be great from just those two moments.
We all gathered around the table having had finished a full size bottle of SoCo in the parking lot just minutes before. My buzz was starting to kick in as I approached the two of the only other three black people in the whole establishment.
Me: “Hey, do you mind if I look at that book?” (The book with all the songs in it)
Black Lady: “Yes.”
Me: “Yes you do mind or yes you don’t?”
Black Man: “Yes we do.”
Me: “Ok. Why? I mean aren’t they here for everyone to share?”
Black Lady: “We brought this. This is our own copy of the book. We are regulars and we have about 65 songs we sing here three nights a week. So yes, I do mind.”
Me: “Damn. I mean, are you getting paid? I mean you must be if you’re here so often.”
Black Lady: “No. I don’t get paid. But there have been plenty of times when I have received tips.”
Me: “So you used your tip money to buy that binder from the dude with no teeth?”
Black Man: “Yes, we did. Who are you to judge me?”
Me: “I’m not judging you. I haven’t heard you sing yet. I just wanted to see the binder. It’s cool. Just don’t mess up. Or I’ll boo that ass.”
Needless to say we found another book. And the likes of which we chose to sing are but are not limited to the following:
Jumpin’ Jumpin’- Destiny’s Child
Get Down On it- Kool and the Gang
Wannabe- Spice Girls
Déjà vu- Beyonce feat. Jay-Z
And I’m sure there are others I don’t remember.
The night proceeded to blur on. Songs were sung. People danced. And everyone was merry.
Life is good at the Junction. It’s a place you can sing your worries away. Where cow girls and boys rub elbows with sneaker wearing, SoCo drinking, basketball lovers.
I didn’t know a word to that damn Kool in the Gang song but I’ll tell you what, I did work that crowd like it was my damn job. I see why that black couple took it so seriously. The Junction ain’t no joke.
Peace and Love
(word count to date... 1,170)
My first song.
I'm growing up. I finally maned up and got a big girl blog. I was scared no one would read anything I wrote if I deviated from my beloved myspace page. Though I know the only reason I still have one is because I blog there. I can completely understand why none of my friends would want to venture out into the "real" world of blogging. So I chose to make it easy for them by sticking to the place where they all gather. Speaking of which, I just hit 1,001 views yesterday and 10 posts. I know, I know, it’s minuscule to some, but for me is a great accomplishment.My plan is to write (or blog) daily at least 350 words for everyday of summer. I have not chose any specific topics as of yet but I do promise to entertain. So hello to all my old friends who have followed me over and hello to all my new friends that will discover me now.
A little explanation about my blog...
My title is Blog about me. And if you had a chance to read the description underneath, you'd know what I meant. (However, if you haven't, look up now and the rest will make sense.) Let me first start with saying I am arrogant. I do not pretend to be. It is just my nature. I do not care what people think of me. I maintain my own opinions, which are not ever up for discussion, and I have no conscience. I know you are waiting for me to say sike, or just kidding. But I'm not, so don't hold your breath. I don't admire people, I am never jealous and the key to being arrogant is not to lust after someone else’s anything because you already know yours is better. I will beat you at anything you want to play. Jacks, dominoes, chutes and ladders, a foot race, life (and I'm not talking about the board game). I'm just very confident in my God given abilities to beat anybody at anything. Wow, I guess I just oxymoroned (I know this is not a word) myself. I said my blog wasn't going to be about me, but I guess a little insight was needed. So, with less than an hour before my girls show up and still no shower I must say goodbye. I'm sorry this wasn't that entertaining. However tomorrow is a new day. I'm going to karaoke tonight. You better believe I'll have a story to tell you tomorrow. =]
Peace and Love.
431 words… and counting
A little explanation about my blog...
My title is Blog about me. And if you had a chance to read the description underneath, you'd know what I meant. (However, if you haven't, look up now and the rest will make sense.) Let me first start with saying I am arrogant. I do not pretend to be. It is just my nature. I do not care what people think of me. I maintain my own opinions, which are not ever up for discussion, and I have no conscience. I know you are waiting for me to say sike, or just kidding. But I'm not, so don't hold your breath. I don't admire people, I am never jealous and the key to being arrogant is not to lust after someone else’s anything because you already know yours is better. I will beat you at anything you want to play. Jacks, dominoes, chutes and ladders, a foot race, life (and I'm not talking about the board game). I'm just very confident in my God given abilities to beat anybody at anything. Wow, I guess I just oxymoroned (I know this is not a word) myself. I said my blog wasn't going to be about me, but I guess a little insight was needed. So, with less than an hour before my girls show up and still no shower I must say goodbye. I'm sorry this wasn't that entertaining. However tomorrow is a new day. I'm going to karaoke tonight. You better believe I'll have a story to tell you tomorrow. =]
Peace and Love.
431 words… and counting
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