...If You Can Then My Hair's Too Short

I finally got around to getting that perm I've been talking about. I meant to do it long ago (okay that is a blatant lie) but I just never got around to it. Anyone who know's me well knows I had a hard ass spring and looking good was not high on my list of priorities. Of course, as a lady of refinement, it should have been. But we all have our down times.
So anyway, I get to my hair salon at around two in the afternoon. I had been up writing all night and went to bed at around seven, so I was surprised that I got up at eleven. Took me two hours to getr ready, but ya'll know me. If I need to be somewhere at eight, I need to be up at five. My girl tells me it's going to cost me fifty (50, fifty, five oh, cincuenta) dollars to perm it. I almost slid out of my chair. But then she very politely and professionally explained two things to me. One, my roots were long as hell and it required more relaxer because of the length and two, her rent was steadily gong up so all the hairstyles were costing more. I appreciated the time she took out to calmly explain this to me.
And I must say, my hair looks dope. It's much longer than it was (I'm happy about that, now I can stop saying I have Indian relatives :) ) and it's thicker too. It might be the vitamin's I've been taking (hmm) or the fact that even though I haven't been to the salon, I've been taking pretty good care of it. I wash and condition at least twice a week, brush it, and wear my silk scarf every night. My hair is just so damn thick that the process takes hours (sometimes days) and I'm extremely tender headed to boot.
I told her to pull the rollers out and let it rock, I would flat iron it at home. Which I did. Took me a little under a half an hour if you don't count the times I stopped to rest my arms. I am not a fan of doing my hair, let me tell you that right now. I don't know how chicks spend hours and hours in the bathroom with their arms above their heads. And since I can't see the back of my head, I kept calling mi hermano into the bathroom to tell me if it was straight. He would have been much happier if I had let him play the Gamecube (they don't let me touch this one because I broke the last one, loooong story) but he made sure the back of my head was hooked up. So now I can say my hair is back to shoulder length. It was there last summer but at the salon I used to go to one of the girls chopped off half my head. I'm like hey, Sweeney f*cking Todd, you wanna get a grip back there?
I'm also letting my nails grow out. I'm thinking about silk wrapping them so they won't break. They're pretty long now. I took the acrylic off to let them breathe about six or seven months ago. I never went anywhere without my acrylic tips. I had them on for a good year, my nails were out to here. I was so sick of people asking me "Damn girl how do you wash your ass?" I'd look away like um the same way you do hopefully. Since I don't stink I must be doing a pretty swell job dontcha think? Here wanna see for yourself? Lord I hate stupid people!
Speaking of stupid people, did ya'll hear about old boy shooting both his baby's mamas and them himself to get out of paying child support? Wow man. That seventy-five bucks a month must have really been killing you. Literally.
I have been on Nat King Cole for the better part of this week. (and Aerosmith. And The Who.) I never actually listened to his music before, I don't have any of it laying around the house. So then Batman goes well listen to this song. It was "The Very Thought of You" I think. And "Mona Lisa." My personal favorites are "When Sunny Gets Blue" and "You Call It Madness (But I Call It Love)". And the list goes on. There are so many to choose from that I can't even really say I have one favorite. "Send For Me", another good one. Please, get all the damn girl how old are you! jokes out of your system now. If there was any good rap to listen to, I wouldn't be in the vault digging for Nat King Cole now would I? Cough cough Young Jeezy cough.
My hair won't stay wrapped. I tried three time but I see I'm going to have to stick my head full of bobby pins for it to sit. I sprayed it and that didn't work either. Now my cat is sitting on the edge of the toilet trying to grab the cord everytime it moves while I straighten my ends. I couldn't pay him to move before when he was sitting in my chair but suddenly he's full of energy. Fat ass.

...Ain't Gold (Part Six)

Nicole laid back on her towel as the warm late afternoon sun caressed her body. She was in heaven right now, and after the party she'd just thrown this came as a much needed vacation. Lani and Cora had tired of the heat and gone back to their room to relax until dinner. Nicole didn't mind being left alone; it gave her a chance to collect her thoughts.
And that was the beauty of vacation. She had no thoughts. It was vacation and there was no stress and no worries. Well, one worry. Her stomach growled loudly. Nicole giggled to herself, embarrassed, hoping no one had heard that. She lifted her towel and shook as much sand out of it as she could, then folded it and placed it in the straw bag. She tied her sarong around her hips and started back to the hotel.

"Oh my God man do you see the ass on that?" Mookie asked as he clung to Rich's arm and followed the behind of a pretty woman walking past.
Rich made a full 180 degree turn and walked backwards, lowering his shades. "Yes I do. It don't get much better than this." He had been to Jamaica plenty of times before, but it seemed that the women got finer and finer every time. "My ass is starvin. I'ma take a shower before we hit up some food."
"Aight man." They locked palms and Mookie jogged off calling for the pretty girl that had passed.
Rich smiled and shook his head, walking up the street toward his hotel. He hoped Toots had got her mad ass out of her room and done something with herself today. She was too pretty to be so mad all the time. She needed to get over herself quick. Shadow was just another part of the game. And he had to admit nobody could play like her.
When Rich looked up, his mind briefly returned to memories of being hit by a car when he was twelve. All he remembered was being hot out of nowhere. That feeling returned. This had to be be undoubtedly the finest woman he had ever laid eyes on as long. And that was saying a lot. He had dated some fine as wine women. But this, this was beyond fine, bar none. He watched her toss her hair over her shoulder and reach an arm out to open the front door.
"I got that," he said, finding his tongue.
The gorgeous woman smiled. "Thank you."
And she had a voice like silk.
"You're very welcome."
She walked toward the elevator. Rich followed close behind content watching the switch of her hips. She walked like there were clouds under her feet. When they made it to the elevator, he stood back a couple of feet. Every move she made was like melted butter. She reached a hand out and pressed the button for the elevator, then pulled her hand back and sat it on her hip. He didn't know who this woman was and he was mesmerized.
The elevator arrived and she stepped. Rich followed. The doors closed and almost immediately the air was filled with the scent of her floral perfume. He leaned back against the wall and took a long hard stare at her. She definitely wasn't from here.
"Where you from pretty?" he asked her.
She turned around.

Nicole wasn't really sure whether or not he was following her. He had made her nervous, standing all behind her like that, and then she could feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of her neck. When he spoke to her she was afraid to answer at first until she heard that Harlem accent that screamed "I ain't from round here shorty."
"New York."
He smiled, showing off a row of pearly whites. "I thought so. Rich."
She smiled back and shook his hand. "Nicole."
"How long you in for?"
"I'm leaving Monday morning."
"Shame. I was hoping I could take you out."
"Were you now? You don't know me."
Yep. True New York girl. Hard as hell for no damn reason. Just say yes.
"Sure I do. We just met."
She smiled again. Where had she been when he was in New York? He thought. It should be illegal to be this fine.
"You're funny. I like that. What have you got in mind?"
The elevator stopped off at her floor. She stepped off and held up a hand to keep the doors open.
"Dinner. A walk on the beach maybe."
Nicole thought about it for a second or two and then nodded. "Alright. You're staying here right?"
"Yeah."
"What room?"
"618."
"So I'll call you when I'm ready."
"Alright Nicole."
Alright Rich." She let the doors go.

Toots was in his bed naked when he returned. She was watching something on TV, he didn't bother to check it out. He took a shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He was so used to seeing her naked that it didn't turn him on anymore.
"Did you go out?"
She didn't look in his direction. "Yeah. Got too damn hot."
He climbed on top of her.
"Get your nasty ass off me nigga."
"You know you want it."
"No I really don't. I don't know where your shit been."
"You still want it."
"Cookie called me."
Rich rolled off her then, laying on his back. "And?"
"And she supposed to be getting out on Thursday."
"This week."
"Next week."
His whole mood was thrown off. This was not news he needed to be hearing.

"Don't wait up ya'll. I'm going out."
"Goin out where?" Cora asked from her seat in the corner.
"On a date."
"With who?" Lani asked, eager to be in the mix.
She shrugged. "I don't know. Some guy."
"You don't know, some guy? Tell me I raised you better than that?"
"You did ma. I'm going out to dinner with Rich. I'll be back later."
"Ooh! I she cute?"
Cora slapped Lani's leg with her magazine. "I'm glad to see you so concerned with your sisters safety."
"Yes he's cute." Nicole pulled her half dry hair back into a loose bun. "Now don't worry about me ma. He's from New York."
Cora lifted the magazine back to her face. "Oh that's comforting. Be careful Nikki."
She kissed her mother's cheek before lifting the room phone. "I will."

Mookie sipped his maragarita and kicked his feet up. "Relax. We're in Jamaica."
"Who is we?"
"Me Rich and Toots."
He heard a sigh on the other end. "I'm going to kill him the minute he steps foot back here, you hear me? I am going to find him and I am going to kill him."
"Once again. Relax. You can't do that right now."
"The man murdered my son!"
Mookie sipped again. Maxell was getting on his nerves with the melodramatics. "I understand that. But Rich didn't kill your son. Shadow did."
"And who does she work for? Rich! So I want her dead too!"
Mookie snorted. Like that was going to happen. He'd been trying to kill her for years. She disappeared like smoke. Even if he did find her she'd kill herself before she let someone else do it.
"You gone really have to let this shit go. Calm the fuck down. You ain't the only one who wants him down. We'll be back this week. Then we'll talk." He ended the call. Since when did murder become so complicated?

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.

Play It Again

Piano Man
play me a song
so soft and so sweet
makes me weak
and
knocks me off my feet
I want to dance to
your rhythm
move my hips
to your rhyme
Play me a slow tune
take your time
Piano Man
light me a cigarette
I'll blow my vibes
your way
You know what I'm thinkin
if you're buyin I'm drinkin
Drinking in your sound
Turn me around
Play for me,
Piano Man
Show me what you've got
Touch my musical spot
Let your sweet medley
be my only remedy
If you can play it for him,
you can play it for me
Come on Piano Man
Play it again

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.

Miscellaneous Thoughts: Celebrity Edition

I felt the need to throw my two cents in about what's going on in the celebrity world these days. I mean hey, Entertainment Tonight is doing it.

Speaking of two cents, is it just me or is G-Unit growing wildly out of proportion? Every time I turn around they have a new member. Are they trying to be the new Wu-Tang Clan or....?

I love that they have dubbed the new Hollywood obsession TomKat. That is so cute. Did they get it on like the day they met? She's been over three months. Either that or she gave up crunches and took up Twinkies. "I'm going to be a virgin until I'm married." I said the same thing.

Kate Moss is on crack. Yes, and so is every other pencil thin model in the industry. Like that's news.

Everyone I know is begging me to comment on the Seal/Heidi Klum situation. I plead the fifth. Good luck in raising a happy healthy child. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Does anyone care that Nicolette Sheridan broke off her engagement to what'shisface? Does anyone care about Nicolette Sheridan?

Was I the only one cracking up like a sick hyena when Olivia Newton-John went on TV for an interview about her missing boyfriend?

Can someone PLEASE call me up and explain the Mike Jones thing to me? I really really don't get it. When that song "Back Then" came out, it took over three months for me to finally figure out what he was saying. I couldn't hear past all the crap in his mouth, number one, and I always change the channel when he comes on, number two. What passes for talent these days I will never understand. I blame Lil Jon and the Ignant Boyz for starting it. And everyone that followed in their footsteps. Slim Thug, Paul Wall, Yin Yang Twins, Lil Flip, as a matter of fact, every one of those losers with a mic and a contract below the Mason-Dixon line. (And it's not just Southern rappers either. The North ain't lookin too good right now...)

Britney Spears had her baby. Enough said. I can hear Christina now. "Oh my God he's so cute, I like totally want one."

So Paris Hilton is cutting a rap album. What's the big deal? Webbie did.

JLo wants an Oscar. She figures, hey, it's the least ya'll can do. I won the "let's see how long she can stay married" pot.

Don't you think that if Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton were intimidating political figures they'd have been assasinated by now? Jesse Jackson is a sleepy eyed hypocrite with bad inflection and Al Sharpton is the self-appointed cheerleader for the oppressed black man. *Yawn*

Brooke Shields is expecting another baby. What, is she trying to prove to Tom that the psot-partum won't hold her down?

Star, I have the finest tuned GayDar in the tri-state area. I could have told Liza, just like I could have told you.

Who told Ciara she could sing? Oh okay, just got the memo. The same person that told Teirra Marie, Ashanti, Yummy Bingham (WTF?), Olivia, Beyonce, Brandy, Omarion, Ray J, and the old looking chick that just got kicked off MTB3. I was listening to "And I" the other day And I had to getup and change the station. She was killing me.

Why did Sheryl Swoopes feel it was necessary to divulge that personal information? I have nothing against those in the homosexual community but don't you think they are starting to take that whole coming out of the closet bit a little far? Why is everyone going public? (BTW, Denise, you owe me a twenty. I called that whole Jim McGreevey thing from deep.) I don't go on national TV telling people I'm strictly dickly do I? So why do we need to be aware that you bat for the other team? I hate to be the one to say it (and I under no circumstances whatsoever support the harrassment or persecution of a person who leads a homosexual lifestyle) but when you do dumb shut like that, you put yourself on the front lines of whatever war is waged against you. I'm not saying you deserve it, but you are blatantly asking for it. It's sick and sad, but that's the way it is.

Thoughts of A Predicate Felon. I will never get over that. According to Webster, predicate is defined as something that is affirmed or denied of the subject in a proposition in logic. So basically that means pleading the fifth if I'm not wrong. You just got out of jail. How are you not a felon? I was pissed as hell when after months of rocking my FREE YAYO tee I turned on BET eagerly and was greeted with "So Seductive". How about So Stupid? I'm going to start rocking one that says SEND HIM BACK. "You've got mirrors in your pants cuz I see me in em." I wanted to cut my wrists and jump out the window when I heard that. All that time and this is what I've been waiting for? (I still listen to the Bed For Mercy album on a regular basis though.)

UPN (also known in some circles as the Under Paid Nigger Network) has launched Love, Inc. Who told Holly Robinson-Peete that she could act? That show is God awful. That's a fitting punishment. Eat your broccoli before I make you watch Love Inc! And that Cuts? Ohhhh Lord if you love me.....Marques Houston can barely sing. Acting is clearly not his forte. We learned that from You Got Served.

Pink Is My New Obsession

I love Aerosmith.
After I put on Just Push Play and Draw The Line and Get Your Wings and rocked for a good three, four hours. They're loud they're proud, get down or don't. I love em.
I had an interesting chat with an IM buddy the other night. Homegirl had me in stitches with this story she wsa telling me. One of her friends conned her into running a 10K race in the middle of a freezing rainstorm. She agreed and let's just say I'm dying for the pictures. Anyway, we got to talking about our familes and she got me to talking about mine. (Stay tuned for the post about my trip to Florida) Here you go Mo, this is the disaster that my parents like to call "Our Trip To Canada."
It was 3:30 when my mami woke me up. We had to be at the designated pick up stop at 5:00. slated to leave at 5:30. Yeah, like that was going to happen. Ya'll know the myth that black folks can't never get nowhere on time? It was proved that morning. We were going on the trip with a group of friends. The person that actually coordinated the trip was twenty minutes late. Had it been up to me, he'd be walking.
When we finally got everybody ready, took a head count, prayed to the Good Lord that we wouldn't crash and burn and got the show on the road, it was 6:04. This was shortly after 9/11, that November to be exact. So as we are driving toward the George Washington Bridge, the remnants of the Manhattan Skyline (or what was left of it at that point) came into view. It was very creepy seeing that, just a big gaping hole where they pride of New York used to be. Anyway, we get over the bridge, everyone is pretty much asleep because it is after all six in the morning.
About ten or twenty miles in, somewhere in the middle of I-80, someone (I am not going to name names simply because this person is much larger than me) gets hungry and begins to complain. Stop number one. So we have to do a search of the surrounding area and find a rest stop. Said person drags her prodigous girth off the bus and proceeds to spend the next hour in Roy Rogers. She gets back on, refreshed and fatter than ever, and we get back on the road.
Another hour or so in, one of the guys gets up to use the bathroom in the back. I was listening to a Mary J Blige album (My Life I think it was) nodding my head to the beats when the door swings open and he goes back to his seat. Now, you know how the cool people always sit in the back? Same concept here. Me my brother and his peoples were holding down the back of the bus hard. But as soon as that door opened, we found ourselves scrambling to the front like we had jsut gotten word the niggers could finally get seats with the white folk. It was an all out stampede. Yes, homie did go in there and blow that bathroom up. We make another stop for mulitple cans of airspray and some matches. When we were able to get the air down from toxic to breathable and the HazMat team that had been following us pulled away, we returned to out normal seats.
Little did we know that old boy had blown up the bathroom so badly that the toilet was actually broken.
I went to sleep because the farther you get out of Manhattan the less there is to see. I swear on everything I love, if I had never seen another tree after that trip it would have been too soon. Bored out of my mind I tell you. After twisting and turning and trying to get comfortable, I found a spot. Just when I began to doze off again, the drive hit a bump that threw my sleeping ass and everyone else on the bus into considerable disarray.
"Sorry about that folks, we're about to hit a bumpy patch in the road, If you have liquids, please try to cover them up."
He said that just as he passed over a bumpy patch in the road, and the entire thermos of hot chocolate I was holding popped open into my lap. We stopped again to buy me some pants. Once back on the road, I hudled in the corner, pissed that I had lost my chocolate and added more travel time to a trip that had started off on the wrong foot.
I was awoken to have my passport shoved in my hands. The Border Patrol was smiling down on me.
"Good mornign ma'am. Are you sure that you are not carrying any contraband or illegal subastances into the country?"
As I had just woke up, I gave him the evil eye, but shook my head and handed over my passport. He checked it briefly and smiled.
"Welcome to Canada."
It was about f*cking time. I looked down at my watch and noticed the time. It was night again. How many stops had we made? My brother looked over. About five, he said. Why? What happened? Troy (name has been changed) blew out the bathroom. The odor hadn't hit me until he said that. So we got to the hotel and everyone went to bed, ready for a day of exploring.
Next day turned out to be wonderful. We toured Onatario in the freezing cold (I was in heaven, as you know I don't do summer) and found that New Yorkers were practically celebrities up there. I didn't know I had an accent until I went there. People kept saying "I love you accent!" I'm like what accent? My mother and I got lost in this novelty store where I wandered around for days looking at his quaint little figurines while the store owner pikced my mothers brain about how it was to live in New York after 9/11. His eyes were all glassy, he looked like a kid in a candy shop. Afterwards, he gave her three stuffed animal to give to my baby brothers and gave me the cutest little (I can't remember for the life of me what it was or where I left it)
We also visited the Falls. That was the highlight of the trip. We got on this little boat called the Maid of the Mist that takes you right up to the Falls. He said "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Niagara Falls" and the next thing I knew, my perm was kicking rocks. I wanted to jump over the corwd and kill him right then and there. I spent the rest of the night brushing my hair into submission.
We returned to the hotel after ceaseless hours of sightseeing (Sidebar: if you ever have the chance to go to Canada, please do. It is a wonderful experience and I rarely gush about anything so if I liked it, you'lll love it) My parents had gotten us to behave with promises that we would go see them light up the Falls later that evening. They had other plans. They took the room keys, ordered pizza and a movie and went out for a lover's stroll. We were sitting there stuck on stupid, waiting for them to come back. When they didn't return after midnight had passed, I sort of got the feeling that there would be no light show tonight. I took my annoyed, frizzy disappointed behind on to bed.
The next day, I experienced an unknown phenomenon. Everyone went out for some last minute shopping and then to catch a bite to eat before we had to leave. We opted to go to Burger King. Then, something happened to me that has never happened before. I took a bite into my burger and tasted, very distinctly I might add, mustard. Now, call me what you will but I have never responded well to flavors in places where they do not belong. I have not ever tasted mustard on a hamburger and I was not looking forward to doing so again. After I scrpaed what I could off the sandwich and tried to eat around the taste, I realized that I could still taste it. And it was not pleasant. I put it down and played with the cold French fries, waiting for everyone else to finish so we could get the hell out of there and get some real food.
I must say, that had to be the most uneventful "vacation" I have ever taken. Beautiful place that Canada, but if you're a kid that had no say in the planning of the itinerary it could get pretty boring. I mean yawn.
One of these days, I'm going to go on a good vacation. I'm going to have the time of my life and when I do, I will be able to revisit the places I went to without them sucking. And boy when I do...*sigh*

Jacki This and Jacki That, Jacki Beat you Down With A Baseball Bat...

You ever had someone do something to you purposely because they knew you couldn't do a hot damn thing about it? I'm feeling like that right now. Lord have mercy. I'm in a good mood, but I am only too pissed somewhere under the surface. I'm not going to get into it (if you want to know, hit me up and we'll vent) but it's straight grimey.
Am I the only person who would rather wear purple than be caught dead in a club? I don't do clubs, for more reason than one. Reasons like one, I'm not going anywhere for over a half hour where I'm supposed to be having fun and I can't drink. (I don't hit the big two one for another three agonizing years) Two, I have to be gone to dance with someone I don't know, and since I can't drink, I won't be dancing, and three, I don't do people. I'd be torturing myself in a room full of bodies crammed together, all with a drink in hand. No no no, I'd rather be in a dark movie theater throwing popcorn at the people under us while screaming out the next scenes because we saw this movie three times already.
Being eighteen SUCKS ASS. It is not a major milestone in my life, besides the fact that I can now get a job without the hassle of chasing those damn working papers around. I'm so glad I don't need those anymore. BTW, I've got a job interview on the 31st. Oh happy happy motherf*cking joy joy. I try not to come out of my house on any circumstances on Halloween. They don't play round where I live. It gets hectic. If I get egged once, I will find a nigga, beat his ass and make it look like he fell in the kitchen. Try me. Anyway, it's a restaurant downtown and they need kitchen help. That's right in my field (FYI, I plan to go into Culinary Arts, I'm scheduled to be starting school in January) and it's experience I need. Not to mention a paycheck. If I'm hired (ya'll know I'm the eternal pessimist) it's all going to car payments. I cannot wait until I am behind the wheel. No one will ever be able to find me. Just the way I like it.
(Sidebar:I've lived in New York for the entire duration of my life and there are streets here I am just now finding out about. They're tucked away under other streets. There's a whole little country inside of the Village. SoHo too. As a matter of fact, all those lil places have a bunch of things going on. I had to get lost downtown quite a few times before I knew how to get around. My new school is on Varick Street and yes I did wander around for about a half hour before I found the right building. IMO, I think getting lost can sometimes be a good thing, you never forget how to get back to where you were.)
So I see my mood says amazing. And I did feel amazing. I still do. It's just that I am pissed that homegirl really played me beyond belief, I mean, damn. I could really punch her in the mouth right now. And throw away six months of anger management classes? Let me rethink this. Woosa. And I'm back.

But I Don't Like Popcorn...

I've been half-writing for the past few days.
Slacking off horribly, and I have no idea why. One thing I have been doing with some consistency though, is watching Alfred Hitchcock movies. TCM (Channel 82 if you live in Manhattan, if you don't, I can't help you) is showing thirty-nine of his films from the 24th until the 30th. So far, I've watched about four or five. "Psycho" for the very first time, and boy was that an experience, "Spellbound" which was incredibly creepy, " "Notorious," which I only half-watched because I was in the middle of half-writing, and "Rebecca." I enjoyed Rebecca the most out of those. I missed "Vertigo" by about thirty-five seconds. I flicked on the television and it was going off.
I have found a new love for black and white films. I remember when I was younger and mami used to sit us in front of the television while she cooked. Surefire way to get me to fall asleep. I always thought that black and white automatically equaled boring as hell. Now I'm learning. Black and white means that you get to play a lot more camera tricks than you can with color. You are forced to watch the film with all your senses. Technicolor is magical, I wouldn't have it any other way, but every now and then it's still cool to watch it the good old fashioned way.
The first black and white movies I can remember are "Casablanca" and "Citizen Kane" (both of which I still have on VHS). I haven't watched either in over eight or nine years. I'm going to have to go in the vault and pluck them out of there before I completely forget both story lines. But then again I guess that is the best time to watch a movie again. When you've totally forgotten what's going on. ("If you can play it for her, you can play it for me..." Has got to be one of the best lines of all time.)
Did anybody actually sit through all nineteen excruciating hours of "Gone With the Wind"? I always get up to the part where...I don't even remember. I just know that I have never been able to sit through that entire film. It's just waaaay too long. And it is completely uninteresting. Call me an uncultured swine if you will, but I hate that movie with a passion.
I see that's where this post is going to sit: movies. I always wonder if one of my books will be turned into a script one day. That would be hot. The one thing I'm dying to see is my first novel. (If you don't know, feel free to hit me up and ask.) I can see it in my head as having money making potential. It's written in my favorite genre...well not really, because my favorite genre is more action-adventure...and suspense...and crime drama...okay so it's a little bit of all three. I love a good shoot em up bang em up. "Kill Bill" was right up my alley. Pretty much anything with an explosion in it. (Don't forget the pyromania.)
Except Kevin Costner. Oh *insert eye roll here* he has got to be the most long winded actor in history. Everyone else can make a point in and hour and a half except for him. "Dances With Wolves" had to be at least ten hours long. And that was without the extra footage. "If you build it, they will come..." I don't even know what-Field of Dreams. That's it. Another sucky movie. But I'm biased because I hate baseball. It's not even a real sport. Annette Benning, another one. Dry like toast. Her and Gwenyth Paltrow. Homegirl is the same actress in every movie she's ever been in. *Yawn* But SAG likes her.
I don't think I have a favorite actor/actress. I have a bunch of favorites. Denzel (isn't that dope that he can go around with one name? Just Denzel), Julia Roberts, Richard Gere, John Malkovich, Gary Sinise, Gabrielle Union, I think Taraji P. Henson is too cute, don't you? Meryl Streep, I just recently learned of the magic that is Don Cheadle, I could really go on for days.
That's not even a good list, it's just what I could come up with off the top of my head. If I really had time to sit and think about it, I'd write it down. Maybe I'll do a post on that in the future.
The last movie I went to see was "Mr. and Mrs. Smith." That rocked and I ended up seeing it twice more before the summer was over. I found it amazing. And once again, more shoot em up, bang em up. (Did anybody see "Collateral"? I have to get that on DVD. If you feel like being a sweetheart, get it for me. Call it a late birthday gift or and early Christmas gift.) Anyway, it starred a very fit looking Brad and a very sexy looking Angelina. (Sorry Jen, she's got you by a long shot.) If I were a man, I'd be first in line to do her. I find her incredibly attractive.
I think I was one of the only people who didn't bother to go see "Hustle and Flow" this summer. For more reasons than one. IMO, there was one very good reason for me not to go see it, which I will not disclose, and there were a bunch of other reasons, which I will. One, the only movie I ever thought Terrence Howard was good in was the friend in "The Best Man."
And "Crash." I think he is a cocky mofo, I really do. Confidence and cockiness are two different things. Two, it just seems to me that he is dying to be the next Denzel. Three, he also (like Samuel L. Jackson whom I have officially excommunicated from the black race) was on hand to say something about Fifty Cent. Everybody knows I love me some Fiddy. Terrence honey, you just started getting good roles so who are you to call someone else an amateur? Puh-leeze.

Ain't Gold (Part Five)

"Where is he?" Maxell growled as he yanked Prage's head back. Prage cried out in pain. He'd been beating him for hours and he was nearly to the point of no return.
"I-don't-know," he whispered back. What part of that didn't these people get? Maxell wasn't satisfied. He shoved the gun in his mouth.
"Let's go over this one more time. My daughter is dead. I catch you in my house. You work for Rich. Can you add?"
Prage tried to nod around the metal in his face. He soiled himself out of fear. He had seen what Maxell did to people.
"Good. So my dead daughter plus you sneaking around my house plus equals Rich. Where is he?"
"Argh-har-rrf," he mumbled.
Maxell pulled the gun out of his mouth. "I'm sorry what?"
Prage began to cry. He saw the dark figure behind Maxell and knew that this was the end.

Shadow had been standing behind Maxell for much of this production and she had to be honest: he was quite boring. Was this his idea of a scare tactic? Of course, it would work on Prage, he was a bitch. But who was he really trying to scare? He was like one of those cats out of a bad gangster film. She had to keep it together, she'd almost started laughing a few times. And the look on Prage's face was priceless when he saw her. She wasn't here for him. She silently turned her back and disappeared into the hall.

Prince considered himself to be a Don-in-training. He very nearly had what every hustler wanted: ultimate power. He told his father he wanted to be like him on a daily basis. In his mind he wanted to be greater than his father. He wanted to be like Priceless Jones, but he would never say that to his face. His father would have him killed for uttering that name in his presence.
His father told him to stay in his room, as he was "handling" something downstairs. He knew that meant the maids would be on their hands and knees scrubbing blood off the floor before the night was over. He knew that man murdered his sister, and it hurt, but his father's first rule was show no emotion. He had to be stone faced and ready for war at all times. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. The man that had snuck into their house earlier was clearly an amateur, he didn't even know what he was looking for. His father took one look at him and he disappeared in his room. They were on their way to his sisters funeral when they caught him snooping around. He bent over to wipe a spot of dust off his shoe. He heard a shot at present and smiled again. He straightened up. This time, there was a black figure behind him. The next thing he knew, all he saw was red as he collapsed to his knees.

Maxell let Prage's body fall to the floor. He looked at the fleck of blood on his wrist. He sucked his teeth and stepped back. Taking his phone out of pocket, he made a call.
"Yo."
"I need something cleaned up. I want it done before I get back from this funeral."
"You got it."
"And find Richard."
"Do him?"
"No. I don't want him dead. Just find him. Call me when you do."
"No problem."
Mookie hung up his phone. Sometimes he hated Maxell. He treated everything like a fucking business proposition. It was his daughter and he said "this funeral." What kind of psycho was he?
Shit, a psycho that paid well. He slid his phone back in his pocket and grabbed the suitcase Rich handed him.
Maxell hung up as well. "Prince? You ready? Hurry up, I don't want to be late."
There was no answer.

Shadow heard Maxell shout and knew it was time for her to get gone. She placed the gun on the floor next to Prince' body and opened his window. She lifted her legs over the ledge, took a breath a jumped. She hit the ground softly and took off running.

Maxell stood when he didn't hear Prince answer him. "Where the hell are you?" He left Prage's body where it lay in the living room and walked down the hall. A gleam of light peeked out from underneath Prince door. He swung the door open. A half gasp, half cry escaped his throat. His son, his firstborn, heir to all he owned, was dead. He moved the gun out of the way and cradled his child in his arms.
Oh Rich was going to suffer. He was going to beg for death before the end.

Shadow made it to her destination. Her first move was to call Rich.
"Hello?"
No answer.
Rich leaned back in his seat, looking out the window at the New York City streets that whizzed by on their way to the airport.
"So it's done then?"
Shadow pressed a button.
"Good. I'm going to be in Jamaica. I'll be back on Wednesday. Come see me bright and early girl."
She hung up.
Toots rolled her eyes savagely from her seat across from him in the limo. She was filing her nails and thinking very deeply about jamming the file into his dick.
"What's with the face?"
"Fuck you."
Mookie started to laugh.
"Grow the fuck up Toots."
She sucked her teeth, holding off from filing. "No suck my dick Rich, aright? I coulda did that fine and well, but you had to call your little mute bitch cuz you don't trust me."
"That's what this is about? Toots please. You killin me, ma."
"I should," she muttered, returning to her fingernails.
Mookie stopped laughing and looked out his window. Don't worry about that ma, he thought. Don't you even worry about that.

Copyright (c) 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.

Back Up Off Me

As you can tell from my mood indicator, I am pissed. (Ain't that thing the cutest?) I have no clue why-okay that's a lie. I'm mad as hell and there is a very good reason for it. Right now, I'm talking to Batman so I'll be back in a flash.

....And I'm back.

So anyway, my baby bro calls me up and tells me he's having a problem with a bully. Here's how the conversation went:
Bro: I'm gonna take this from Shrek 2. I need someone...taken care of.
Me: Word? What happened?
B: This kid in my class. It's getting out of hand.
M: Who I got to bat down this time?
B: Anthony. *Name has been changed to protect the victim.
B: (pause) You're not going to beat him up are you?
(Here I became quite confused. I thought that was the whole point of "taken care of." What the hell am I supposed to do, give him a hug?)
M: What do you want me to do?
B: Just handle it.
(I am even more confused. I thought by "handle it" you meant do me. By do me, I mean go find the aluminum and bat old boy to a bloody pulp. Two words: The Untouchables.)
M: You want me to talk to him?
B: Whatever just get him off my back.
(I threw my hands in the air at this point. He knows that by asking me to "take care of it" or "handle it" or "get him off my back" that's an instant beat down for said bully. To bash or not to bash. That is the question. So many choices, so little time.)
M: Alright, I'll take care of it.
B:Thanks.
We hang up.
So now I have to formulate a way to get this kid off his back. Without violence. I didn't know there was any other way. I always thought that one good hit in the face was the answer to all problems. I'm racking my brain here. (Suggestions are welcome, ya'll all know my home number.) I haven't had a good fight in a while and the minute he said he didn't want him beat up, my world was shattered. My brother is such a peace loving person. I can't see how he could make it through life without at least one good KO under his belt.
I called up my mama to discuss this with her. She heard about the first time I "handled" a bully and ever since then I have been the resident azz kicker. She thinks I should handle it with words. WHAT?!?!?! What did Capone say in the aforementioned Untouchables? "You can get farther with a kind word and a gun than you can with just a kind word." No truer words have ever been spoken. I have my .45's on layaway. And they're so pretty too. I'll show you later.
My mother proceeded to formally diagnose me and in her professional opinion, she firmly believes that I am an "anti-social psychotic psychopath with pyromaniac tendencies." That hurt. The pyromania she was right on point with (I have this thing for fire) but psychotic? Psycopath? (Notice I'm not denying the anti-social part) She firmly (along with the majority of my family) believes that I am mentally unstable. There are good reasons why, which I will discuss in another post, but I really don't think all of that was necessary. She proceeded to tell me that denial wasn't just another river in Egypt and that admission was the first step to recovery.
As dysfunctional as they are, I love my family.
(Monica, I'll be posting Part Five of Ain't Gold tonight.)

RIP Rosa Parks 1913-2005

Cam, I love you to death and wish you all the best, but you know better than to be driving your Lamborghini around in ghetto azz Washington DC. Just because that's where the White House is doesn't mean niggas know how to act. xo

More Miscellaneous Thoughts

I'm in the zone right now.
I'm over here jamming to OutKast's "Speakerboxxx/The Love Below" album. More specifically "She Lives In My Lap" on the Love Below side. I can't get that song out of my head.

Is it me or has Babyface not now nor ever been babyfaced? He looked young before, not babyfaced. And he's not that attractive either, but that's a different topic for a different time. Face2Face was my shyt when it came out. Still is. "Her eyes, her smile her skin her smell her hair, she's incredible baby...Her walk, her talk, her way, her savoir faire...There she goes..."

I must say I was not moved by the "Emancipation of Mimi." I really think she's lost it. Everyone is still on that bandwagon, but I jumped off long ago. After Glitter, that was it for me. If Mariah would stop trying to compete with these kids (cough cough...Ashanti...cough) she would sound like something.

I visited a fellow author's (http://www.lexidavis.com) website the other day. Homegirl knows she has a fan in me. I was halfway into the synopsis of her new book when the sounds of Cameo's "Candy" flooded through my speakers. I was up and out of my seat like a fool at ten after three in the morning. I clicked refresh about five or six times before I was too tired to dance anymore. I now visit her site on a daily basis to get my Candy fix.

Anyone who knows me know I'm not a huge fan of R. Kelly's. (And this was way before the alleged child boinking incident.) But now that I have flipped on TP-2, in my humble opinion, it's the best album he ever did. "Three knocks at the door, my baby..." And then Chocolate Factory.

I mentioned this a little while ago on a another board and it seems I'm not alone in noticing. Remember Daria? Doesn't Britney (annoying blonde cheerleader) and Kevin (her jock boyfriend) look an awful lot like Britney (I'm not a girl, not yet a mother) and Kevin (her not a has been but a never was Federline)? Things that make me go hmmm.

Don't ask about the Batgirl. If you don't know, you don't know.

Isn't it one hell of a good feeling when a man hits you up and says he's thinking about you?
Yes it is. :)

Keep It To Yourself, It's My Life

I think insane people are the only normal ones.
What I wouldn't give to be in a straight jacket, rocking back and forth, staring out at the sky from my single window in my padded room, doped up beyond belief. Because then I would feel good. (The above statement was not intended to disrespect or mock the plight of any mentally ill person that may read it.)
I'm in a rut right now. I'm most likely going to be searching for a new publisher within the next couple of weeks. My previous is going through some things at the time and I don't know how long I can stick around, frankly, before he goes under. He explained to me at the beginning that he was no Uncle Moneybags, and I understood that. But things happen, and a businesswoman must evolve in order to survive. Pretty much, I've got to haul ass.
Now, people are waiting on me, waiting on this so called book I was supposed to be publishing. They've been looking forward to it, marking the release date on their calendars. And I want to deliver, I do, but it's going to be a little while longer before I can. If I can get out of this vicious circle that I'm in, then things may look a little bit brighter very soon.
(Sidebar: Erin Brockovich is one of the best movies I've seen in a long time.)
Adding to the strain of my own health is my school situation. Which I'm not even going to get into. Then there's my mother's impending hitch date, which I am also not going to get into. The status of my employment, my driver's license and apartment, also things I am not getting into. When the thrill of writing wears off and life begins again, you realize that you've let things pile up and your life has been slipping away slowly as you spend twenty-two hour days at the computer banging out a novel that you assumed would be on bookstore shelves by the 16th of December. (I needed to vent. Thank you for listening. Woosa.)
A friend of mine (with an incredible amount of faith in me, didn't and still doesn't believe I'm as young as I say I am) suggests I submit some work to the company he was recently accepted to. There's only one problem with that. I'm good, he's good. I'm two wings and a biscuit good, he's family meal with two side orders and a liter of Coke good. I'm not quite there yet. I will be, but not yet. I'm working on it. But, everything is worth a shot, I figure. Being the eternal pessimist that I am, I'm not too worried about disappointment because my hopes weren't up in the first place. Why have my fingers crossed for a loud "no"? I'll do it, but only for the halibut.
So I'm going back to the drawing board. Tomorrow I'm going to pace around my apartment with a hefty glass of JW and figure this thing out. I've got it pretty much down pat, I just need to think it all the way through. As soon as I do, I'll be back with a vengeance.

Love

Love is one hell of an emotion. I have found over an advanced period of time that it's also quite complex. Everyone defines love differently. And it seems most people I know get it confused with other things. Things like puppy love, infatuation, and lust. Lust got my happy ass in trouble more than once, because I had it confused with love. That butterfly feeling, the knocking knees, the lip biting, all that. It was lust.
Love is complicated because the person who thinks they are feeling it is the person that defines it. No matter what anyone else says you know what you know. It could be the most dysfunctional unhealthy relationship, but yet in still, it's your definition.
To me, love is the unconditional mental and emotional connection that is combined with trust and passionate affection for another person. In my humble opinion, you cannot love a person without those simple links in the chain. I've never felt that way about another person. Of course, you have regular unconditional affection for your family, that is pretty much undeniable. But when you find that one person you want to share the rest of your life with, the rest just falls into place.
And Lord knows I can't wait for that to happen. :)

Sick

You make me sick
I love you and
I hate it
I can't do without you
And you know this so you
Do those things that make
me want you
My stomach turns
with anticipation
This fever burns
you got me anxious
I'm runnin through painkillers
My doctor says Mylanta
There's only one remedy
You are the answer
Wipin lust out my eyes
Breakin out in cold sweats
I'm delirious thinkin bout love we ain't even made yet
My head hurts my back aches
I dream of youwhile I'm awake
My body quakesI got the shakes
And I hate it baby
I got a bone to pick
I love you so much
it makes me sick

Copyright © Jacki Simmons 2005

...Ain't Gold (Part Four)

"...Got a date at 8, I’m in the 740'fizz-ive and I just bought a bike, so I can ride till I die..."

Nicole shook her head smiling at the loud music coming from the apartment her mother and baby sister shared. Alanis loved that loud ghetto shit. Nicole loved rap too, but at three less decibels.

"...My niggas in 'da club, but you know 'dey not dancin'. We gangsta, and gangstas don't dance- we boogie, so never mind how we got in here wit' burners 'n hoodies..."
She flipped through her purse for the spare key to their apartment. "Chile won't even hear me comin. Mama must not be home."
"...Listen, we don't pay admission, and da bouncers don't check us and we walk around 'da metal detectors..."
She shook her head and let herself in, trying to act like she didn't know the words on the low. She swung the door open.
"...Said he like my necklace, started relaxin now, dats what da fuck I call a chain reaction. See, money aint a thang nigga, we still da same niggaz, flows just changed, now we 'bout'ta change 'da game nigga..."
Nicole's mouth had dropped open. She couldn't believe the sight in front of her eyes.
"See my niggaz don't dance we just pull up our pants and do the RocaWear, now lean back, lean back..."
Her mother, a fifty-seven year old church going woman was in the middle of the kitchen leaning back with Alanis by her side.
"Come on in! Hell wrong with you got my door all open like that?" Cora Simmons was one fine woman, timeless really. Proof that black didn't crack.
"Hi Nikki," Alanis kissed her sister hello and shut the door.
"Mama, since when she got you listening to this?"
"Girl, you think I don't know nothing about the young'uns? Ya'll alright."
Nicole laughed and joined her kin in the kitchen. "You don't know nothin about no rap mama." She gave her mother a big hug. "How you?"
"Too blessed to be stressed girl. Lani, turn that down a lil bit. I been listenin to that with Lani you know. She got me listenin to that pretty girl, Eve. Oh and the other one, what's his name? Fifty the cent."
Nicole giggled. "Fifty Cent ma, like change."
"That's it. I like him."
Nicole shook her head, going into the freezer for ice cubes. She shook out a freshly washed glass and dropped them inside. "I'm gone pray for you on Sunday."
Cora stirred one of the pots in front of her and the mouth watering smells of cheese stuffed meatballs shoook Nicole by her shoulders and slapped her in the face. "Girl please. You ain't been to church in years. I make sure I put in a prayer for you."
Lani came back in the kitchen. "Donita said tell you hi."
Nicole nodded, crunching ice. "She had the baby yet?"
"She's due any day now."
"What you doin round her anyway Big Time?"
"I can't come home and see my mama and my sister? Damn. And I thought ya'll loved me."
"Stop cussin," Cora said.
"Nik please," Lani started smiling. "Only reason you over here is cuz you ain't got no man."
Nicole spit ice chips at her sister. "Kiss my ass."
"I said stop cussin!"
Lani stuck her tongue out and Nicole kicked her in the knee.
"Ma!"
"Now the both of ya'll cut it out for I get in it."
"She started it!" they both shouted.
Cora raised her spoon. "I don't care who started it! I'll end it! Now how you doin, Nik? You behavin yourself and callin on the Lord like you oughta?"
"Yes mama. But you and I both know that is not what I'm here for."
"Good, so get out," Lani said, smiling.
Nicole stood up and smoothed her shirt. She put on her saddest face and turned to walk out. "I guess so. I know when I'm not wanted." She reached over for her purse, whcih was sitting on the edge of the counter.
"I'll just have to find two other people to take to Jamaica this weekend."
Cora stopped stirring and looked at her daugher. "Are you serious?"
Nicole kept up the act. "Yeah. That's what I came by to tell you. But since ya'll don't want me here..."
Cora looked at Lani and they both started screaming.
"Oh my God! We going to Jamaica!"
Nicole's face broke into a wide smile.

"Don't worry about it Toots. Shadow will let me know when the job is done and when she does-"
"How the fuck is she gonna tell you anything when the bitch doesn't even talk?"
"I understand you ain't feelin her right now, but she-"
"But she what? I couldn't have done that? You gone tell her to come all the way down from the fuckin Fortress of Solitude and give her fifty G's for some shit I coulda did in my sleep?"
Rich loved the fact that Toots was jealous of Shadow. He didn't know if Shadow knew and if she did, she sure as hell didn't give a damn. The fact was Toots was his best girl. he couldn't send her out to do a job like this. Shadow was important but she was expendable. Just another pawn on the chessboard. But Toots was his babygirl. If she was killed over something he knew she had no business doing, he'd never fogive himself.
"Let it go Toots. For real ma. Throw some thongs and shit in a suitcase or something. We goin to outta town for a few days."
"Whatever." She hung up.
He smiled as he hung up. He knew she would be over at his place within the hour. He had decided to get out of town for a little while to clear his thoughts and regroup as he tried to figure out the Prince/Prage/Maxell situation. Well, the first two were handled but he needed to figure out the Maxell situation. And he couldn't do it sitting around New York. He had Mookie call up the ret of the crew and tell them to meet him out there at his beach house.
Rest and relaxation was all he needed. No bull, no stress, just pretty drunk island girls and hot sun on his skin. As soon as he returned Rich was sure all hell would most likely be breaking loose so he knew he had to get it in good while he could.

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.

Passion With A Capital P

Passion: strong emotion; intense, driving, or overmastering feeling or conviction; ardent affection; a strong liking or desire for or devotion to some activity, object, or concept.
Those are just basic. The actual definition's for passion are much longer. And they vary. http://www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/dictionary But in the end they are all the same. An intense driving emotion.
I am very used to getting what I want. I usually put up one hell of a fight when I lock my scope in on a target of desire. And when I get it, I don't let it go. This time it seems it's not going to be that hard, but I also want this more than I have ever wanted anything. So I'm going to be on top of my game these next few weeks. I have a goal in mind, and I'm going to get what I want if it's the last thing I do.

...Ain't Gold (Part Three)

Rich let things run their course, knowing Maxell would be making the next move. He felt like the king of a chessboard, surrounded, with nowhere to go. His pawn had made a foolish mistake and left him wide open and unprotected. Sure, he had other pieces on the board, but they hadn't fucked up. The opponent wouldn't care who. He would want to know why.
This posed a dilemma. He had gained Maxell's trust and it took him a long time to do so. He would be angry. He would be asking questions. In was no secret in Rich's circle that he couldn't stand Max. But Max didn't know that. As far as he knew, Rich kissed the ground he walked on. They were business partner's and friends on the outside, but on the inside, Rich hated him with a raw seething passion.
Killing Prince would have been easy enough, if he had sent Toots or Mookie. Toots was no joke. Her gun game was no joke. "Three point range I shoot better than Kobe," he thought. She could hit a n!%%@ between the eyes from thirty feet away. He'd seen it. Mookie wasn't bad either. Toots taught him everything he knew, even though he and Rich had been friends for far longer. They were both guarunteed killers.
It would be harder now, they would have Prince under wraps. He would be tightly monitored now, until this thing with Maxell could be sorted out. They would pull out all the stops to keep him protected. You'd have to be a member of the CIA to get to him. Rich couldn't afford anymore mistakes. He needed Prince dead and the way it was looking, he would have to do it himself.
Or he could let Shadow do it.
Shadow was the only female he kept on his team besides Toots. Standing at 5'10 even, she reminded him of Catwoman, with her lithe long body. She long long raven black hair, and a matching black eye. She kept her left eye covered with a patch. He didn't know whether she was blind or not, but he thought it made her look incredibly sexy. She rarely spoke and appeared out of the mist when summoned. She disappeared again after a job was done. In all honesty, she scared the living daylight out of him. But he got a raging erection every time she was near him, so he didn't really know what his mind wanted him to think about her.
He lifted the phone from the cradle and dialed her number, knowing she wouldn't answer. The phone stopped ringing after the third.
"Shadow?"
Silence.
"If you're there press a button, mama."
BEEP.
"This is Rich. I need a favor. Come down to my office so we can talk."
She hung up before he could say another word.
Rich shook his head. He clicked on the television to the left of his desk and turned his body in that direction. His desk was one of those wraparound get-ups so he put his feet up and relaxed, flipping through channels until he reached 20/20. He always liked that show, no real reason why. Tonight, he began to doze as Barbara Walters began to go on with some useless drivel. She wasn't keeping his attention tonight. He felt a breeze and shivered. He lifted a lazy hand to turn off the TV. When he pulled his feet off the desk, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Shadow was sitting there in one of the guest chairs, waiting.
"Sh*!, girl, you almost gave me a fuckin heart attack." He pulled himself together and turned his chair to her.
Shadow hadn't moved an inch. She looked like a Ladykiller tonight; a black hat pulled down to her eyes, fitting black velvet skirt suit and black heels. Her one eye was covered by a black patch. She looked like she had just been to a funeral.
"I trust you've heard the news by now."
She nodded once.
"Have you seen Maxell?"
Another nod.
"I need you to handle that for me."
She stood to leave. She had heard her orders and now it was time to carry them out. Rich watched her leave, as silent as she had come. When she had shut the door behind her, he let out a sigh. He stood up to shake off the erection that was tenting his suit pants. He didn't know what it was about her, maybe the allure, the mystery, or how she silently commanded his respect. It could have been a combination of all three.

Shadow looked both ways before she crossed the street to her black Mercedes. She had just been handed the heftiest payroll of her career. Maxell would never know what hit him. Prince would disappear quickly and quietly. She started up her car and pulled out of her spot. Cruising down the avenue, she wondered to herself what Rich would do without her. He only called her when he needed done what no one else could do.
And this was most certainly a job no one else could do.

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.

Miscellaneous Thoughts

I felt the need to add the Bush Out of Office Countdown. I thought it was absolutely hysterical and the moment I saw it, I knew I wasn't alone in this world. They have got to get that man out of office. This country never has been in tip-top shape, but wow, I didn't think it could get any worse. But enough of the political stuff.

I just played the funniest game today. http://www.s2smagazine.com/services/Board/showthread.php?t=26808

It's a wonder that George Lopez hasn't been cancelled while My Wife and Kids has. In my humble opinion, MWAK was a much better show.

My tattoo parlor flooded out with the large volume of rain we received in New York over the last week. So now I have to wait. I was aiming for this week so I could wear skirts and shorts for a few more days while it healed. I hate getting tattooed in the winter.

That Chocolate Math Game worked, didn't it? I didn't think that up. I can barely count with fingers involved.

I have a new fan. Isn't that something?

I'm watching The Untouchables for the tenth time this week. I seem to be addicted to it lately. I get like that sometimes, where I go for weeks at a time watching the same thing.

I was going to change the music in my Guestbook, thinking about Talkin About by Amerie. But that Jim Jones cut is so addictive. I love the beat on that. My girl Shonna (I haven't heard from her in a hot minute, if you're reading this, my number hasn't changed, call me girl) has the only crush on him. I stopped rolling with the DipSet crew after Cam made it cool for men to wear pink. WTF?

I loved Spawn. It was so corny but that cape thing was the best.

Everyone is talking about the New Jack City Special Edition DVD. Am I late? Again? "Sit yo five dolla ass down before I make change" is the best line Wesley Snipes ever had.

I saw Scarface this weekend. I must say, I was quite disappointed. I don't say that out loud in public because I don't want to be shot, but I must say, I've seen better. I mean, it was okay, but it didn't really move me much.

My favorite song out right now is Unbreakable by Alicia Keys.
http://music.aol.com/artist/main.adp?artistid=469431
My second favorite is Rock-A-Bye by Black Buddafly.
My third favorite is Stay by Ne-Yo. That song is somethin else.
http://www6.defjam.com/site/audiovideo.php
I don't know how long those links will be available, so get em while they're hot.

I'm in a good mood today.

...Ain't Gold (Part Two)

Nicole didn't think of herself as an ordinary female.
As a matter of fact, she thought very highly of herself, which was why she couldn't understand why she was still alone. Life seemed to pass her by and she had that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she would be be in a rocking chair, knitting, with a blanket over her knees surrounded by 89 cats by the time her life ended.
She didn't get it. She was beautiful, multi-talented, driven, single, intelligent; every thing modern men claimed they wanted. She was a college graduate, a SINC really, with her own home and her own car. Everything she had, she got on her own. Except the man of her dreams, the love of her life. Nicole was a hopeless romantic. She wanted someone to sweep her off her feet, make her feel like no one ever had before. So why couldn't she get that?
"Cuz you're intimidating, mi amor," her best friend Chuchi would say. "You know these niggas can't handle a woman that got more than they do. And look where we live? Ain't no shiny suit businessmen around here. Unless you wanna F*^# wit un blanco."
Nicole had to laugh. Chuchi was right. The only eligible bachelors in her area were in the of the Causcasion persuasion."
But what's wrong with me, Chooch? I have everything I want and no man. I don't want to be like Martha Stewart." She flopped down on her suede couch. "Or Oprah."
Chuchi looked at her like she was crazy.
"Oprah got Stedman."
Nicole looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Chuchi burst out laughing.

"Nicole, you've got a call on line one."
"Thank you, put it through." Nicole leaned back in her chair and put her feet up on the desk.
"Good morning, Ms. Simmons. This is Grant Macon, we spoke on the phone the other day regarding the catering for my wife's birthday party? I just wanted to know how that was coming along."
"Mr. Macon, it's very good to hear from you." Nicole flipped open the binder on her desk and pulled out his folder. "You requested Package three, correct?"
"Yes I did. Only the best for my Pumpkin."
Lucky B*!@%, Nikki thought. "All the orders have been placed, all the supplies will be ready on Friday morning. Now the party is Sunday evening, so my team will spend Saturday preparing the space. The food will not be prepared until Sunday, as that will take away from quality and freshness. I have the menu here, lets be sure, you chose the Southern comfort, correct?"
"Yes ma'am. Well, it looks like you have everything under control. I must say Ms. Simmons, I am extremely impressed. I will definitely have to recommend you to my colleagues."
Nicole beamed, rubbing her fingernails on her blouse and staring at them. She knew she was a master at what she did. Pulling together an event for over one hundred people was a piece of cake to her. She could do it in her sleep.
"Let's just hope everything goes smoothly on Sunday."
"I'm sure it will. I guess that's it for me, I just wanted to check in on the particulars and make sure all was well.""
You call as many times as you like Mr. Macon. I'm here for you."
"Thank you very much. I'll see you this weekend."
"Okay then. Bye now."
Nicole hung up the phone. If this party went as well as she planned it to, she would make over four grand this weekend. She was paid and made. Now if she could only get laid...

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved

Pathetic

There is nothing worse than a hater.
I mean, full time, I wish I could be you so I've got an attitude, pure, unadulterated raw seething hate. It amazes me how important you are to other people. There are, in my humble opinion, two types of people in the world: the type who do and the type who don't. The type who do are under a barrage of spiteful fire from the types that don't. Without the people that do, the people that don't would have no purpose, no existence.
It's sickening to me that people feel the need to tear you down because you are what they desperately wish to be. It's an ugly thing, hate, but no matter where you are, you can't escape it. And I find that pathetic. You wasted your life and your time and since you see me doing big things that you wish you could do, you're going to take that out on me? Please. I really shouldn't be this pissed, but I felt the need to vent this morning. It was an itch that needed to be scratched. An issue that needed to be addressed. And it seems to me this type of hate comes solely from other females.
I have guy friends that will support me if I decided to get a tribal tattoo on my face like my name was Mike Tyson. They'd smile and say, hey, do you. That's what I love about guys. They're cool and laid back and if I could be one....Anyway, I have never met a female I could get along with (okay, that's a lie, I actually have three very good girlfriends, and that's it) for an extended period of time. Females will constantly try to tear you down for their own personal gain. To make themselves feel good. It's annoying as hell, really and tends to get quite old quite fast. But I deal with it. Cuz that's the way the world is.
What I will not deal with is you treating me like I did something to you, holding some junior high school grudge against me because I have the ends and the means to move forward while you're still stuck in the past. You will never be me or have what I have and that's just the way it is. If you feel you need to speak to me personally, do so and don't make it a public thing. Make it a "hey, can we talk?" thing. I have no problem being an adult. Since apparently you do.

Ah, that felt good.

My 18th birthday passed last week rather uneventfully, I might add. FYI: Cupcakes are the new thing. I forgot how much I loved cupcakes until the other day. All that frosting, and just that tiny individual cake. I'm trying to diet here, keep my figure tick tock like it should be, but I had to give in. Those things are sinfully delicious. Not the chocolate (I hate chocolate, I don't say that out loud at parties) but the angel food cake ones with the different colored frosting and the sprinkles. Don't front. You know what I'm talking about. I enjoyed myself, I did. I was on my feet all day, in four inch heels, and I'm paying for it. I need a good hour long footrub and a tall glass of something that ends in "proof". (Speaking of, am I the only person disappointed by Sam Adams? The way they advertised it was like it was the new God of beers. I could have saved $4.25 for a beef patty and some ginger beer.)

I finished editing this week. I need to call up my publisher so we can get this thing rolling. I was supposed to hear from him a few days ago, but I know the phone works both ways. I have to get on that this afternoon...

F*ck You And the Horse You Rode In On

I find you very sad
The sheer thought of how much you hate me
makes you mad
This thing you've got going on
This "I can't stand you" fanclub
Go ahead,
sing your song
You had your chance
You messed it up
Now you're alone
So on your days at home
You tell yourself
I did you wrong
Why?
Because he chose me?
Cuz everything I am
is what you wish you could be?
Your jealousy
sometimes amuses me
I don't know whether to laugh or shake my head
You wish you were in my bed
But you're not
and that's in your head
If you wanted it
you could have had it
Yet it's too late
so it shouldn't matter
I just feel it's petty now
You gave the milk
he never bought the cow
Do you think you're worth it?
You're used parts
damaged goods
Now he's in my neck of the woods
Go right ahead
Cut your eyes
Lick your lips
and shake your thighs
It's nothing he hasn't
already seen
And yet despite it
He still wants me

So kiss the ring

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons

I'm falling asleep and it's only one in the afternoon. I've been up all night rewriting my story. I decided to do that after I read an editing book, I forget the name, it's in my bedroom somewhere. It seems to me that the easiest part about getting published is the writing. Once that's over there's so much more to do. Promotion is a bitch. I have my friends and family backing me up, they're doing a lovely job of that. It helps when you have them by your side. But enough mush.

My birthday is in six days and I can't wait. Actually, I can. I'm not looking forward to it at all. I would much rather be back in kindergarten sucking my thumb on a cot at naptime. You spend your entire childhood preparing to be an adult and then you get there (well almost there) and you wish you were right back in the times when everything was so simple. The years have gone by so fast.

I can still remember when my mother was giving me a Just For Me perm and burning the back of my beck with the hot comb. (You know, the one you had to put on the stove so the metal comb part could heat up? That one. For years. Until she went electric.) Sharing the bed with my cousins and my baby brothers when we went up to my grandmother's house in White Plains. Then getting separated because we were giggling too much to be actually sleeping. The first time I ever tried to make dinner and ended up almost burning down the kitchen. (You really have to watch that flash fry thing. I saw it on Food Network and thought I was nice.) You look back and see things and wonder how you made it through. Like the world was ending at that exact moment but you still found a way. Time passes and you live and you learn and then get Luvs.

I think I've found a lot of myself writing this book. Over the past few months I've learned a lot more about me than I ever knew. And I love that. Life is a learning experience and I love the fact that I get something new out of it everyday. I've been challenged in ways I never thought possible over the last two years and I've come out of it better and stronger than I was before. I know how to handle things now, I can deal with the fast balls that life throws at me. Granted, I hate baseball so that analogy is probably moot.

As time moves forward and I continue to grow and continue to love me like I do, I know I'll keep learning. And the more you learn, the more you grow. Pretty soon, I'll be untouchable. But there's still time for that. Right now, I'm just living my life like it's golden.

...Ain't Gold (Part One)

Prage was scared.
He didn't mean for it to go down like that, it just happened. It was his first hit, and it had gone terribly wrong. He had simple instructions: identify the target, take down the target, and get the he!! out of there. And he couldn't even do that right.
Now he was crouched on the ground next to the body, waiting for something to happen. Toots dropped to her haunches and took a good look in the dead girls face. She was worried, worried about what might happen when Rich found out. This asn't her doing, she was in the clear, but Prage was sort of a newbie. Sure, Rich had known him for years and they were cool, but Rich had a tricky triggerfinger and would shoot you as soon as look at you. Prage was a kid, and kids made mistakes. She warned Rich, but he was stubborn. He figured Prage would grow up and become a valuable member of the team. She stood up, jamming her hands in her pockets and shaking her head.
"He's not gonna like this."
Prage was pacing, the gun still in his hands, the girls blood splashed across his hoodie and jeans. There was a drop on his Tims, Toots noticed.
"I know man. F*^#! Don't you think I know?" Prage paced faster and faster, like a madman. He was afraid for his life.
"I mean, what the F*^# happened? You just don't kill people you don't know."
"I didn't mean to, alright? I-I already let the shots off before I even saw her."
Toots looked around, then grabbed Prage by the arm and shoved him up against the brick wall behind them.
"Listen. You just killed Maxell's daughter. He's not gonna be happy about that. Neither is Rich. When that n!%%@ gets mad, it comes down hard on all of us. Including me. Now I didn't like you from when you first got here and I don'tlike you now. Rich calls me wen he wants Sh*! handled." She released him and looked back at the body, growing cold now, with a line of blood trickling out into the snow.
"And Sh*! needs to be handled."

Rich hung up the phone, his face devoid of expression. He wasn't sure whether or not he should be plain angry or thrown into a murderous rage. This was really not what he needed right now. Pulling open his desk drawer he popped out two Excedrin's and downed them without water. He was more angry at being wrong that at the death of Maxell's only child. Toots had told him a young gun was no good for the team but he had shot her down.
"No," he'd said. "It's always good to have fresh blood."
And now he had more than his fair share of fresh blood.
Presently, there was a knock on his door and it swung open. Toots entered first, her face solemn. She was pissed, he knew, and she had the right to be. Her predictions had come true. Prage was right behind her, unable to look Rich in the eye. Both of them sat down in the leather chairs in front of his desk, silent. Prage spoke up first.
"Look, Rich, I-"
Rich cut him off, lifting his hand. He didn't want to hear it, not yet. He stared at Prage for a long while, until the man began to squirm in his seat uncomfortably. He never lifted his steely eyed gaze.
"I would put a bullet in your head right now if it din't mean breaking the promise to your mother."
Prage looked down at the floor, ashamed.
"What did I tell you to do?"
"I was supposed to hit Prince. But-"
Rich closed his eyes. "There are no buts in murder, Prage. It's a one shot deal. Now what did I tell you to do."
"Prince."
"And did you do that."
Prage stuttered. "I-I-well-I."
Rich slammed his hand down on the table, making the already unsteady Prage even more nevous. Toots was used to this. She slouched in her chair, watching the scene unfold before her."Answer the goddamn question!"
"No."
Rich rubbed his temples before he answered. "No. No. A direct order. A simple task. And you fucked up," he said, pointing.
"Rich, I-"
"Don't fucking speak unless I tell you to," Rich said through clenched teeth. "You fucked up bad Prage. And now you have to fix it. Get out."
Toots watched as Prage stood and shakily exited the room. She leaned the two legs of her chair backward. She smiled at Rich when the door was shut behind them.
"Fear factor. Not bad."
Rich covered his face with his hands. "I've got to hand it to you."
Toots cupped a hand around her ear, anxious to hear the apology from her boss.
"You were right."
She sat back, satisfied. "I know I was. What are you going to do about it?"
Rich removed his hands from his face, tapping the desk with his slender fingers. "I said he was going to fix it. And he is."
Toots chair slammed to the floor.
"Rich, if you send him back there, he's going to die."
It was the first smile she'd seen from her boss all day.

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.