Wednesday, November 30, 2005

And If You Don't Know...

I've got a few minutes before I leave for work. I know I should be straigtening my hair but its one of those f*ck it and put on a scarf days. Its raining, well, pretending to rain over here and its humid as hell so I'm not going to bother having it all flat and straight just to go outside and have it turn into this poofy mess.
(If you see a typo please excuse it until later. Its nine in the morning. I'm usually just getting to bed at this time.)
I was on the phone after my nap last night (Mo, I should be on tonight, I was knocked the f*ck out yesterday) talking to Bats. Truth be told, he was doing most of the talking. That's how all my phone conversations are. I'm a better listener. Anyway, the subject came up again about me not liking anything.
Him: Damn girl, you don't like anything!
Me: That's not true! Yes I do!
Him: Like what?
Me: (silence)
I couldn't really prove my case on the spot. But since I'm refreshed and energized after my jog, these are a few of my favorite things. Raindrops on roses, okay let me stop.
Shoes - (Heels please, flats and sandals need not apply. I hate flats becuase they have no flair and I hate sandals because I think feet are disgusting.) I'll pay any money for a good shoe and I take my footwear very seriously.
Tiger lilies - My favorite flower. So much more exotic than roses and so much prettier. They alsohave a very nice scent when fresh. The twelve dollar bouquet from downtown isn't too shabby either.
Pizza and shrimp - My two favorite foods. Can't live without either. I could really eat pizza every day for the rest of my life if I had to. Shrimp as well. I went to Red Lobster this summer with my girls and got down on some coconut shrimp. Remind me to go to City Island next summer.
Football - I enjoy football because it is a fast paced thinking game, not for the weak and faint of heart. If getting hit in the tits didn't hurt so much I'd play it on a regular basis. I'm not exactly flat chested so there isn't much room for error.
Murder mysteries/action adventure - Those are my favorite movie genres. Action adventure because I'm really into things blowing up (I don't know why) and I love a good whodunit. Stretches the brain out and makes you work, and a good twist never hurt. (See The Usual Suspects, one of the greatest movies of all time.)
Vampires - I always thought vampires were very cool. The blood sucking, not so much, but beyond that I think they're dope. (See Interview With The Vampire, another one of my favorites.) I will admit that I was disappointed as blue f*ck when Aaliyah and Co. f*cked up Queen of the Damned. And Blade bored me to tears. That's mainly because I don't like Wesley Snipes. But this list is about what I do like so let's move on.
Guns - I am not going to say anything that will incrimnate me so all I will say is that as soon as I am of legal firearm carrying age, my ass will be headed over to my dealer for those two nickel plated Sig Sauer P220's that I've had my eye on for the last two years. So sexy.
Fedoras - My favorite hat, right before a good old fashioned fitted. Fedoras are sexy power hats and I love the way they make my face look.
Liquor - My legal team (Cuervo, Morgan and Daniels) has been there for me every step of the way. I wouldn't be here without them. And of course I have to chalk my happiness in life up to my close personal friend and spritual advisor, you guessed it, Johnnie Walker. What, my liver? Don't worry about that. I've got a friend at NY Pres that'll save me a spot on the donor list.
Diamonds - Touchy topic for some folks, but not for me. I love diamonds. Shoes are this girls best friend but diamonds are a close second. If and when I get one, I'm going to crazy glue my engagement ring to my hand and seal it in a glass case like that guy from Zoolander.
Kissing - I find kissing so damn sexy. Its better than sex sometimes, if its done well. That's one of those hour long activities. Just sit there on the (insert favorite kissing spot here) and do the damn thing for as long as you can go.
James Patterson - I don't think I need to go on.
I'm sure as the day progresses I will think of more things that I like. And as soon as I do, I will post them here. I forgot theme parks. I love the rides, but even more than that, I love walking around playing games for teddy bears. I love teddy bears. Ha look at that. Two more without even trying. I'll be back later to tell you all about my day.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Let's Be Real

I'm bored as blue f*ck so I've decided to do this week's Let's Be Real post early, since I missed it for the holiday. Yes, I will be posting it on time this week. I was supposed to be posting Immigration but I can't seem to get my thoughts together quite right so I'll wait til the end of the week. Instead, I think I will post on a topic that has been bothering me for some time now.
*Disclaimer: Before I begin let me - - you know what? There is no disclaimer this week. This is for all those ghetto ass leeching mother f*ckers who are giving the rest of us hard working black people a bad name. Read it and weep because I'm talking about you.

Topic: Black People vs. Niggers
For years now, black people have had to endure countless atrocities because of our skin color. They faced tremendous odds and came out on top, proving that you couldn't hold us down. They fought for what they believed in and demanded what they deserved. After trial and hardships like no one would understand but another black person, we are only now getting our just due. And just when we thought we could finally put our past behind us and say look at all we've accomplished, who shows up to damn us all to hell and set us back three hundred years?
You guessed it. Niggers.
Notice that I am not using the 'a' at the end of the word. No. That is now a term of endearment, more affectionate than the previous insult. So I will not be using the term affectionately.
Niggers have found a way to make us all look stupid. They perpetuate every stereotype, and live up to the least expectations of soceity. They give everyone else a reason to hate the race as a whole. The only thing worse that being a nigger is an ignant one. Examples are as follows:
Mason Betha
Tony Yayo
Mike Jones
Young Jeezy
OJ Simpson
Tiger Woods
Al Sharpton
Jesse Jackson
Colin Powell
Condoleezza Rice
The list could go on and on and on but I'm sure you can fill in the necessary blanks. Be it a sell out socialite or a gold tooth wearing bum, ignance comes in all shapes and sizes. I knew it was alive and well when Condi Rice (who hails from Alabama, the most racist state in America) said at Rosa Parks funeral that she never experienced racism. I was ready to kick her in the face. WTF? Colin Powell spends so much time kissing ass that I'm not sure if he's really black or just one hell of a brown noser.
I bet a few of you are wondering why I put Sharpton and Jackson up there. The two of them, whom I unaffectionately nicknamed the Spokesperson and the Cheerleader for the Oppressed Black Man, respectively, are both sad excuses for leaders. They find a way to jump on every bandwagon known to man. Sharpton? 1987, Tawana Brawley, he was there. 1997, Abner Louima, he was there. 1999, Amadou Diallo. You guessed it. He was there. And wherever he is, Jackson is sure to follow. Although he might want to keep his business out of the streets. (I'm sorry Ms. Jackson. Whoo! I am fo' real...) The way I see it, if the two of them really had any pull and if they were really a threat they'd have been assasinated by now. They are hot air blowers. Pretty soon that steam is going to run out though, as soon as everyone else figures it out.
As for Mase and 'em, when did weaves and gold teeth become a way of life? Why is it that your slang makes you who you are? Am I the only person thoroughly insulted by the fact that Ebonics is accepted vernacular? Why is it that white children strive to be lawyer's and doctor's but the nigger's kids are still trying to fit rims on that Escalade? Why are you proud to be ghetto? That's a way of life? After all your ancestors did for you this is how you show appreciation? They fought and died. I know King would turn in his grave if he were alive today.
Put down the headphones and the remote and pick up a damn book. Educate yourself. Folks should be embarrassed that my man Djimon Honsou taught himself English for his role in Amistad. And he speaks it more fluently than folks who've been speaking English their whole lives. There's a problem with that.
My mama is one of the few proud black women left who can truly say her kids are going to be something. My brothers and I were not raised watching booty videos or listening to all the latest rap cuts. (Mind you, I can rip off any lyric to any 50 Cent song if asked but I can also identify Beethoven's 5th if asked. Ask any kid in my hood who Chopin, Bach or Mozart are and they'll ask if its liquor or weed) The point is there was equal balance. Why is it that your child knows all the lines to the hottest rap songs but s/he can't spell his/her own name?
Remember Bitches and Sisters off the Blueprint 2 album? Same thing applies. Black people strive to educate and better themselves. Niggers learn from thestreets and think that's acceptable. Black people work hard for what they have. Niggers leech off of you. Black people are outspoken and eloquent. Niggers are blissful in their ignorance.
I hate the fact that our race is divided down the middle by such idiocy. But as long people continue to think that their not wanting anything out of life is okay it will continue. Get off your ass and do something with yourself. Be on time for something. You don't need those rims, you need to pay your rent. Welfare is the lazy man's way out. Don't think of the unemployment line as a blessing, think of it as a chance to say, hey, I can be doing so much better than this. Have a dream, have a goal, stick to it. Realize that crack is only going to get you incarcerated or killed. You all saw Scarface, Blow, New Jack City, Paid In Full, State Property, you know how they end. That's the only way to go. You have a hoop dream, go for it.
Aspire to be great, to leave a mark. (Take that literally and I will slap you.) Don't live to be the next this or the next that. Live to be you. You'll feel much better that you did.

Top Ten Reasons Why I Don't Go To Church

A lot of people have asked me why I don't go to church. I don't feel like explaining it a thousand times so here it is in a post. Before I continue, I do not want any emails telling me that I'm going to hell (I already know, Satan sent me a postcard day before last; seems my seat is still open), I do not want to hear that I should go next Sunday, I would like it (I'm busy next Sunday. And the week after that. And the week after that), and most important of these I don't want to hear how insulted you are. You know me. If its how I feel, I'm 99% of the time going to say it. The same people who ask the questions are the same people who are always offended. So since its about to get crazy irreverant up in here the faint of heart or steady churchgoers may exit.
10. Greetings - As a person who is not into other people, I would have to go to church every Sunday and feign interest in the well being of other people. Sister Simmons? How are you this fine afternoon? All right then, come on over here and say hello to Sister Baker. I don't think so.
9. Convenience - Most of my outings occur on the weekends. Its so much easier to say, yes I'm free on Sunday, than say yeah girl I can go. Right after church. Then to come in the next week and hear "well I missed you last Sunday, you missed a powerful sermon" would put me over the edge. It seems every Sunday is a powerful sermon so I'm not really missing anything am I?
8. Attire - Anyone who knows me knows I carry on no love affair with skirts. I hate skirts. I only wear them when absolutely necessary. They are uncomfortable and you can't do in them the same things you can do in pants. My mami can't understand why I don't like them, she thinks I have beautiful legs. "Child, you should show those off, they look so good." I guess they're alright. Now the high heels I can definitely do. But the skirts? Not so much.
7. The Holy Ghost - Someone is definitely going to have to explain this one to me. I will never understand the point of this. Falling out becuase you caught the "spirit" and looking like a damn fool in the process. I completely understand feeling it, like the other night I was getting down with Kelly Price and the Clark Sisters. But the shaking and convulsing and foaming at the mouth, isn't that a little extreme? What exactly is "catching" the Holy Ghost anyway? This all stems back to the way I was raised, I see. Which brings me right along to my next thought...
6. The Trinity - Yet another thing I for the life of me will never get. How the Church figures that God and Jesus are the same person is beyond interesting. Its downright mind boggling. (Please, hit me up and explain that one.) Like so many other things, this makes no sense and raises a couple of questions for me. If Jesus and God were one then the whole death and ressurection thing would be pretty hard to pull off right? (My brother is looking over my shoulder telling me that the Holy Spirit brought Jesus back from the dead. As if that makes any more sense.)
5. The Choir - Pure jealousy. That would be the only thing that could push me over at church. I've always wanted to sing and while I can carry a tune, I'm no Phyllis Hyman. I mean I'm not tone deaf, I can probably do as well as Ashanti (insert sucker punch) but I don't have one of those "raised in the church" voices. I do my best work in the shower.
4. The Collection Plate/Tithe - Whoo boy. According to my church going peoples, the plate is passed around several times to "collect" for the Lord. And the tithe is when you give up a hefty tenth of your monthly salary. Let me put down this Dutch because the smoke is obviously messing with my head. How many things are wrong with that? I'm passing around money? More than once? One of my girlfriends told me that she heard her Pastor say he didn't want to hear any change in his collection plate. WTF?? And a required tithe? What happened here? In the Bible I read, there was a certain scripture where a poor old woman went into the temple and gave all she had, not all the church asked of her. She would be blessed more than the Pharisees because her gift was not of her wallet, but of her heart. What I give will be what I have, not what is demanded from me.
3. Bible use - Nearly every one I know says they directly quote from the Bible, wave it around alot, but never actually open it. I'm not saying this is every church but umm... since this is a Bible based house of worship, shouldn't we be using a Bible? Or is it me?
2. The Pastor/Reverend/Whoever - I am not going to sit in an audience and have you scream at me for three hours until service is over. I can hear you just fine if you speak clearly and e-nun-ci-ate. Why are you sweating and screaming? Are you 'feeling the spirit'? Preach the Word, fine. But all the blood sweat and tears is, in my mind, unneccessary. Its silly even. To the point where its like is this a circus perfomance or what?
1. Personal Beliefs - I know the Bible says that God will judge everyone as he sees fit. So why don't we leave that up to him? I think it would be insulting to God to step my foot in church when I know I don't have my sh*t together. I drink like a fish, curse like a sailor and up until recently, smoked like a chimney. I'm not going to church to confess my sins and repent on a weekly basis just to go back and do the same things I was doing before. (That's right, won't catch me coming to church in my club clothes from the night before.) I love God just as much as the next and I do not feel any worse or better about worshiping him from the comfort of my own home.
What a load off. I should do more of these, really.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Stretch and Yawn

I'm kind of sleepy this evening. I have a lot of writing to do so I'm taking a short nap to power up before its time for me to put up those last two posts I've been talking about. And then I have an all nighter to pull. Got the outline down, time to start writing. I'll be back.

Back On The Grind

I want to go home.
It's been real, it's been fun, but I want to go home and be back in my natural habitat. This is why vacations never work for me. I miss home too much. Home is actually an hour long train ride away. I'm in the same city, just a different town. But Long island is a whole nother world.
I just came back from a 7 Eleven run. Those places are like Starbucks out here. One every four blocks. Anyway, people were saying all these foreign things; phrases I didn't recognize. Please, thank you, good morning. Who are these people and what have you done with my rude New Yorkers? Not one person has bumped into me or given me a cruel glance since I've been here. What is wrong with you people?
Laughing. Let me stop. I'm on AIM today, will be til I get home around this afternoon. I hate AIM. The people on that buddy list (save for a few) are so boring compared to the people on the Yahoo list. This is how I am sure I have reached the peak of my insanity. I'm sitting here comparing buddy lists.
I'm dying not being able to write. I need to get back home to my computer because I have so muc work to do. I'm not going to move for the next few days. I have to get these chapters out and done before the summer. I have plans for this summer, which I will not discuss.
(Please excuse the typos. I'm still waking up. I'm not used to seeing the sun.)
Shockingly, I went to bed early last night. Sometime around midnight. I was lsitening to some CDs before I drifted off; The Eminem Show, Red Star Sounds and Natalie Imbruglia (ya'll don't know about that :). I woke back up when Sister turned on the TV to watch the previously TiVo'd episode of Desperate Housewives. Whew man they had me this week. Well, they have me every week but it is just getting more and more wild. (Mo, I know you saw it so there will be an in-depth discussion as soon as I get back.)
I am really feeling this laptop. I'm thinking about getting one.
Yet another on time moodswing.
Being that yesterday was Sunday and I was in the house relaxing, a friend of mine asked me why I don't go to church. I couldn't answer her directly as I had burst out laughing. So that will be a post for later on this evening, since I'm sure you're all wondering. He's not the first person to have asked. When I'm safe and sound in my PJ's with a JW, I'll post the Top Ten Reasons Why I Don't Go To Church. Please do not confuse this with me not believing in God. Me and my sister had a huge argument over that. I'm not an atheist. I think its agnostic and if I'm wrong, feel free to correct.
I smell my breakfast. I'll be back.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Post Holiday Post

I want to see how many idiots are going to email me and say hey there's a typo in your heading. I'm smiling already thinking about it.
How was your holiday weekend? I don't want to discuss mine, but thank you for asking. All I know is that I'm going to need a few weeks worth of serios cardio after this. Wow. I only had a couple of plates but Lord have mercy, those leftovers will get you.

I'm tired. Exhausted, really. I haven't gotten much sleep out here, mainly because it is waaay too quiet. I've found that living in the city so long has made me borderline crazy. I got upat four in the morning to the sound of silence and couldn't take it. I had to put my headphones on to drown out the sounds of nothing. No crickets, no nothing. It was killing me. No firetrucks, no gunshots, its kind of sad really. Now I see why people are moving out to the suburbs in droves. Not that I would follow them, but still, I understand.
The most embarassing part was getting out of my sisters car (my sister-in-law but that's a mouthful to write so when I'm writing I'm usually referring to either she or Nylazia, use those little clues to figure it out) and I was gawking at the sky in pure shock. Those sparkly white things. Like little white dots against the sky. What were they? Oh stars? You mean those are stars? Seriously. Its been literally years since I've seen stars, let alone whole constellations. Round my way, the most we see is the North star or the Moon past the huge complex across the street.
I spent the majoirty of last night outlining the book. I'm not discussing it except with necessary parties. I'm going to be going under the radar for the next couple of weeks. I'm starting school in a little while so as soon as I get home in the evenings I'll be right back on it. I outlined while watching every musical my brother owns; Chicago (one of my all time favorites, and yes I know every song by heart), Phantom of the Opera (another one of my favorites and yes I know most of the songs by heart), Grease (please don't ask. And don't hate either), Moulin Rouge (actually got me through about an hour of outlining, love that movie, working on learning the songs) and Willy Wonka (greatest movie of all time and yes I know all the words). I didnt get to sleep until somewhere around six. By the time I looked up from the paper, time had flown by, the sun had risen and the book was outlined. I must say if I pull this off its going to be quite interesting when its done.
No, no hints. Forget it.
Got in my fill of video games, that's for sure. I've been playing Halo 2 all weekend. Besides Tiger Woods golfing I don't really like anything else. Mario maybe. And Crash. But other than that I stick to the basics. If one person hits me talking about some aww, bonding, I swear to God I will find you and make you beg for mercy before the end.
(@ Monica, I am so not a Scrooge. I'm a realist. Why lie? Look here baby. Santa didn't buy a got damn thing under this here tree so let's just put that little myth to bed why don't we? And don't worry. We won't be doing the playground fight thing. I have no problem kicking a child's ass.)
I've been out of touch for the past few days seeing that my brother has no Yahoo Messenger. Nobody important uses AIM. I hate AOL. It sucks and the perks of Yahoo just aren't there, I find. The stealth settings have become m best friend over the past few months. Oh, I can let you see me but you and you can't. Dope. Very dope. Cuts down on the amount of time I have to spend bullshitting.
Them: Hi
Me: Hi
Them: How are you
Me: I'm fine. You?
After a fifteen minute pause....
Them: I'm good. What are you doing?
At that point I usually say I'm busy writing/making dinner/about to go for a jog/flat ironing my hair I don't know, anything. I have to get creative. I hate it when people hit me on IM to talk about nothing. I make it perfectly clear when I meet folks that I'm not a people person so why do people keep trying to change my f*cking mind? Its like seriously folks. Its not ever going to happen. Just let it go. Really. Its okay. I don't mind being like this.
I've been seriously looking into mood stabilizers. This whole fluctuation thing is getting out of hand. I'm used to it but aprently the people around me have informed me that they walk on eggshells around me to avoid setting me off. (If you've ever read a book entitled Dealing With People You Can't Stand, I've been referred to as the Tank, the Sniper, the Grenade, and the No Person rolled into one. The truth hurts, as I thought this was a fairly cruel diagnosis.)
Seriously who is smoking? There has just been this Newporty undercurrent the whole weekend. I'm apparently the only person who smells it. Is it the neighbors? Or is all this late night writing finally getting to me?
Miss you Bats.
Heading home tomorrow morning. That should be a blast. The after holiday crowds flooding back into New York to get back on the grind and back into our star-free lives.
And I can't wait.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Something Else Used To Be Here But I Won't Say What...

Made it to my brother's place about an hour ago, just chilling for now. He took his wife and her best friend to go see Rent. (If you hurry you can catch them Mo.) I couldn't sit through the soundtrack of the play so I know the movie will be less than entertaining. Everytime I convince myself I should see it I keep thinking of that one scene in Team America World Police. They go see this play called "Lease" and the cast is singing this song called "Everyone Has AIDS." It sounds dead wrong but watch it and I promise you'll be falling out. If not you have a warped sense of humor and you bore me. Navigate away from this page and do not return.
Tomorrow we go up to the Big House for dinner. (AKA his wife's parents place.) I baked a couple pies to take up there. I made pumpkin this year instead of sweet potato. They gets down round here so I know there will be no shortage of food.
The train ride out was pure hell, that's for sure. White folks get buck wild when it comes time to go somewhere. "Oh my God John! That's the train! Let me try and knock as many people out of the way as possible as I try and run with two suitcases and kitten heels because Lord knows this is the very last train ever!" Jeez. It kills me. And they say niggas are always late. *Insert eye roll here* Let me stop fronting like I didn't have to run the for the train :). It was literally just about to pull off as I flew down the steps like a madwoman, coat in one arm, suitcase in the other. (Yes, babygirl did bring a suitcase on a four day trip. Why? I never wear the same outfit twice in a week so why do it on a weekend?)
I was going to pack everything in my Betty Boop overnight bag and realized it wouldn't all fit. I brought two pairs of boots and the sneakers on my feet so there was going to be at least two pair of shoes in the case at any given time. I packed three pair of jeans, shirts, socks and panties. I rolled them up like my mama showed me back in the day and it all fit. Okay, this laptop battery is about to die. Let me finish this in a minute.
And we're back.
It took about fifty minutes to get out and then my bro drove me to his place in the car. He doesn't have his license yet but he drives anyway. Apparently there is no such thing as DWB out here. If it were Harlem he'd have been in the back of the paddywagon singing Akon like there's no tomorrow. He takes his road test in December and its like he already passed. He's driving like an old pro. I'm proud of him and jealous as hell at the same time. I can't freaking wait until I start driving. I'll be nowhere to be found, just hours in the car for no reason.
Some dude tried to pick me up in Foot Locker last night. He really must have thought he was putting the moves on too. I left with a VIP card and an invitation to come back soon. I highly doubt that. I go into a sneaker store with an alias and a scarf on. I would hate to be caught dead shopping for kicks. If you can't tell already I am not a sneaker person. If its not a shoe I really can't be bothered. I needed a pair to go with my red sweatsuit. (Question: If its velour, its still a sweatsuit right?)
Tomorrow I think I'm going to wear a cashmere sweater, jeans and black heels. Or the brown suede. Hmm. Decisions, decisions. I need to flat iron my hair. I washed it this morning, and sprayed it down with some Pantene. I looked like a poodle after it dried so I wet wrapped it and let it air dry on the way to the train station. WTF? Why am I rambling?
Anyway's, tomorrow's usual Let's Be Real post may be delayed until Monday. I'm going to be getting my eat on. To everyone who hits me up on a regualr, I'm not sitting here naming names, have a wonderful and safe Thanksgiving; Prage, you owe me a shot, you know what I'm talking about, Maritza, I'll be picking up my shoes on Monday, Monica, enjoy yourself and get your grub on chick ;). Happy early birthday Vita, happy belated birthday Carisma, think about answering your goddamn phone, son. And to Batman, don't worry baby. You got this. Just put it down like you always do. Relax, let it rock. It'll come to you. You've come too far to let it stop you now. We're almost there. Break a leg. xoxo
(Sidebar: Jose Cuervo is my new boyfriend. Sssh, don't tell Johnnie I'm cheating on him.)

Tuesday, November 22, 2005


As Thanksgiving looms over my head, an ominous reminder that everyone is almost ready to deck the halls, I sit back and reflect over just why it is that I hate the holidays.
As far as I'm concerned, Thanksgiving is the only real holiday. Families get together and celebrate the joy of being alive with a fat turkey, a few bowls of stuffing and Mac and cheese, some cranberry sauce....damn I'm getting hungry...
I hate holidays because they give everyone an excuse to be so fake. Valentine's Day is a reason for every wo/man to all of a sudden feign interest and show love for one day out of a year. Don't you love me every day? What's so different about today? And all the damn pink flowers and hearts hanging all over the place kill me. St. Valentine was murdered on the 14th of February because he performed secret marriages and got found out. (There's a little more to it than that but that's the gist of it.) Yes, I definitely want to celebrate the day of your death.
Independence Day is the barbecue-inist holiday of the year. No one really sits down and reflects the day this country became free. Instead, they reach for another rib and toss another shrimp on the barbie. If they get an early spot, they can go down to the pier and catch the fireworks on the River from the Macy's float.
Halloween is a kids holiday. I'll be damned if I dress up and go from door to door asking for candy. I have a hard time speaking to my neighbors any other time of the year so why is this any different? And what with the crap that goes on up here you're much safer indoors anyway.
Easter is also a kids holiday. Ever notice how folks get all dressed up for church when they haven't been in months? hey, I'm not judging. But like my grandma used to say: You only there for the Lord part time, he only gone answer your prayers part time. (This coming from the me. I haven't stepped foot in a church in my life and I never will.) Easter is a reason to buy new clothes so you can show off at school the next Monday.
Then there's Christmas. The mother of all holidays. People literally wait all year for Christmas to come around. They spend every dollar they make on presents and trees and decorations. The carols come on, the good china comes out, the fire is lit and the family is gathered around to be "together." If I can't stand my cousin Ray Ray any other time of the year why the f*ck would you sit him next to me on Christmas Day? Ain't nothin changed between us.
Every year on my block, somebody has an apartment fire because of their tree and faulty wiring. Without fail. Every single year. That's not a risk I'm taking. I love fire as much as the next, but I have no desire to be in such close proximity. I am too fine to be set ablaze.
People don't get nicer around Christmas either. That's like one of the biggest crocks I've ever heard. This is New York. If there's a reason to have an attitude, any and everybody has one. It's too cold, its snowing too hard, there's not enough presents for one's family, any number of things set people off around this time. It's more desperate for the poor because apparently there is a law somewhere that states that you are cruel and inhumane if your kids don't get gifts.
Which brings me to two other points. That damn Santa Claus. IMO, the guy is a pedophile. Every year he gets his jollies by having little kids come and sit on his lap as he bounces them up and down and asks what they want for Christmas. The elves are enablers. They just stand there and watch it happen. They are just as guilty. And then there are gifts. If my husband does decide he wants our kids to celebrate Christmas there are going to be a few ground rules. Namely, there is no goddamn Santa Claus. That's right. I'm Santa. My ass went to the store, shopped, packed, wrapped and sat all them present down there. He didn't spend nine hundred dollars making your wishes come true. We can dead that right now.
I'm laughing as I read this post over again. I know I sound just like Ebenezer Scrooge, but hey. Holidays are for kids. Yes, I will sit down and enjoy this big dinner I'm going to have up at the Big House on Thursday. I'm going to kick my feet back and be happy. Be forewarned: the next person who asks what their getting for Christmas is getting the response I give everyone else: Same thing I got you last year. In a bigger box though. *

...Ain't Gold (Part Ten)

Speed was talking before he swung the door open.
“Baby, I thought I told you to wake me up when you-” He stopped short when he saw Rich. Rich powerful fist caught him in the mouth, the second punch landing in his soft belly and doubling him over. His knee caught Speed in the chin and he fell on his back.
“You like hittin women? Huh? You like beatin on women?” Speed’s eyes widened in terror and confusion as this madman lifted him in the air. Rich caught him with an angry right and Speed flew backwards, crashing into the hall table and sliding to the ground.
“GET UP!” he shouted, taking off his coat. He was amped in full battle mode. Speed scrambled to his feet, his fists up and cocked, ready to fight back. He had blood streaming from his nose and he had a loose tooth, but either way, he had to defend his manly honor. His manly honor hit the ground with him as Rich rabbit punched him with his left hand.
“You beat up on the wrong one, nigga. You hear me?” Rich punctuated each syllable with a savage kick in his ribs. As Speed held his hands up to protect his face, Rich leaned down and got in Speed’s face, breathing heavily.

“You touch my sister again. You go ‘head. I want you and all you own up out this bitch by tonight. Feel me?”
Speed nodded. Rich turned on his heel, but not before kicking him one last time. He pulled his coat back on and left the apartment. There were neighbors peeking out of their doors and one woman had actually come down the hallway to investigate. He shielded his face and hurried down the stairs. Looking both ways before running back across the street, he reached his car and sped off.
He laughed loudly as he turned left on Jerome Avenue. “You shoulda seen the look on that nigga face! He be gone by the time you get back, aight?”
He looked over at her, making a right on West Fordham. “You alright?”
“I’m fine. Just pissed is all.”
Rich didn’t understand it. “Why you let that nigga beat up on you, Money?” That was his nickname for her when she was a younger girl. She was always asking him for money, and it sounded enough like Monie to pass as a nickname.
“He ain't never hit me before aright? We had a fight and then he tripped out and punched me.”
“What you do?”
“I hit him back, word, but I couldn’t really get into nothin serious with him.”
“Shit. The Money I knew woulda hung his ass out to dry.”
“I didn’t want to get hurt.”
Rich looked out his side mirror as he merged onto I-87. “Why not? I memba them days you and me used to fight niggas together. We was on that Bonnie and Clyde shit.”
“Just drop it, Rich.”
“Why you getting all stank? I’m just wanna know-”
“I’m pregnant, alright?”
Rich skidded as he lost control of the car for a second. “What?”
“And it ain't his.”
“What? Money, you talkin crazy! What you sayin?”
She punched the door on her side. “Fuck, see that’s why I ain't wanna say nothin, Rich.”
“My bad, Money. But on the real. When you was gone say somethin? All that money I spent sendin you to college and now you droppin out?”
“I ain't fuckin say I was droppin out, aright? You and Grandma think just alike, damn. She said the same thing. I’m still goin to school, I’m still goin to work, ain't shit change, Rich, damn. Can a bitch get some support?”
“My fault, Money. My fault. Who’s the father?”
“This nigga off my campus. It was kinda by accident. I was studyin with him in his apartment and shit just got a little hot. I found out a couple weeks ago.”
“How far are you?”
“Thirteen weeks.”
“Fuck you smokin for?”
“I’m quittin. Damn, Rich, what, you my daddy now?”
Rich shifted gears. “That nigga know?”
“Yeah, he know.”
“What he say?”
“He said he gone take care of me. And he be makin sure I’m alright and shit. That’s how Speed found out about him. He called and asked how I was feelin and Speed nosey ass was listenin in the room. He heard Tony ask about the baby and he flipped.”
“This new nigga, Tony, he decent? I ain't gotta go see him, right?”
Simone laughed. “He alright, Rich. You ain't gotta give him the Speed treatment. What you do to him anyway?”
Rich shrugged. “We just had a lil talk, that’s all. You ain't gotta worry about that. I gotta buy you a new end table though.”
Simone knew to leave it alone. She’d been there when her brother had killed before and he wasn’t above killing for or over her. She leaned back in her seat and they just cruised. Rich was astonished yet pleased with the current strain of events. He was a little upset with his sister getting herself into this sort of predicament, but happy she knew where she wanted to be and how to get there.
“How’s Grandma, anyway?”
“Hmph. You need to go see for yourself.”
“Money, you know Grandma ain't hardly tryna to hear from me,” he said frustrated. “Its my fault mommy died, its my fault daddy died, its my fault Darnell in prison, I ain't tryna hear that shit from her.”
“She do not be talkin like that, Richard. She miss you and I was tellin her you meant to come see her.”
He looked at her after turning onto Riverside Drive. “She said she miss me?” he asked deadpan.
Simone nodded. “She wanna see you. You know she ain't got but so long for this world, nigga.”
“Yeah, well, she shoulda thought about that fore she threw me out.”

Rich was angry and bitter with his grandmother. He knew hustling wasn’t the way to go, but back then; it kept a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs and food on the table. But Marie Pryor was a proud woman who believed her SSI and Food Stamps would be enough to raise three children. She didn’t ever accept outside help, not even from Rich. When she found out where the extra cash was coming from, she made him leave. He’d seen her since, but they’d only exchanged cold pleasantries. It made him angry to think about it.
“And Darnell got hisself arrested. I ain't have shit to do with that.”
“I know. I know.”

Simone stayed over that night. Rich made sure she was comfortable before going up to his room. The next morning light flooded into his bedroom. He was going to have a good day; his good mood from seeing his sister had carried over. His hand made its way to the nightstand. he grabbed his ringing two way and flipped it open. Eight messages from Smash and Cris B. He called Cris back and as soon as he did he wished he hadn't.
“Yo, Toots and Smash got robbed this morning.”
His good disposition was instantly shattered by the surprising news. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Rich had never been robbed. Stuck up maybe, but never actually robbed. “What happened?”
“They was on 116th. They ain't tell me who did it. They shot out the tires and took the cash out the trunk.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”

Rich pulled the phone away from his ear as he banged on the bed and let out a ring of expletives. He was fuming. He was going to kill Toots when he saw her. He’d just lost thirty grand. He put the phone back up to his ear.
“I'll be right there.”

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.

Monday, November 21, 2005

...Ain't Gold (Part Nine)

Rich was moody.
He was laid out, staring at his fireplace in deep thought. Nicole hadn't returned his call, Mookie was AWOL, Cookie was home and Toots wasn't speaking to him. He had to get back on track because there was money to be made.
He knew Cookie was not one he wanted as an enemy. But what could he call her? He stood there and stood stock silent as he watched her take one for the team. Six years for a crime she had nothing to do with. She was nowhere near his drugs and he knew it. But he couldn't afford to go to prison. He had paper to chase.
Toots would never forgive him, he was sure of it. He needed her to though. He didn't know if she knew it but she was more important to him than anything. He hated what he had done to her, hated having to lie to her. It was to protect her. Surely she could understand that. He loved Toots like he loved every breath he took. She was as important to him as the blood flowing through his veins. Shit, she was the blood. His eyes closed as his thoughts carried him to sleep. He didn't need anymore shit and yet here it was about to hit him in the face.
Simone let herself into the house with the key he had given her.
"Richard? Rich? Where you at?"
Her snowy Vasque boots clunked against the floor as she kicked them off and put her feet in his Adidas slippers. She stopped in the living room, shaking her head. Rich was laid out on the couch on his belly, one leg bent, the other sliding to the floor. She lifted her foot and kicked him in the butt. "Nigga, wake up."
Rich awoke when he rolled off the couch. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. "What you doin here?"
"I can't come see my brother? Gimme a cigarette." Rich tossed her the pack of Newports on the coffee table. "Ain't you posed to be on the grind or some shit?"
"I am on the grind, baby. Everybody need to sleep."
"What you poppin up out the blue for? I ain't seen you in like three months."
"Don't be askin me no questions, nigga," she said, puffing her cigarette. "I felt like comin over." Rich listened to her voice. She was upset about something. He didn't see his sister often, but he wasn't retarded either. He pulled his SideKick off the table as it vibrated. Mookie. Hittin tha spot, it read. Three from a couple of potential bedmates and another from Cris B. "What's up, Simone?"
"I need a little cash. I'm getting a new apartment."
"Where you movin to?"
"Back to Brooklyn."
Rich snickered, picking up his lighter and gesturing with it, a smoke dangling from his lips. "Why you ain't ask that nigga for no cash? He movin wit you, right?"
Simone "psshed" and threw her head back gently. She picked imaginary lint off her sweat pants. "Only place he movin is out my crib."
"What the fuck you still fuckin wit that nigga for? I keep tellin you he ain't shit."
She stood up and turned around, turning back to him and waving her cig fingers. "Look, Rich. I done heard the same shit from Darnell and Grandma and Aunt Toni and I don't need it from you, aright?" Her tone was stern but her voice was trembling.
He looked at her clearly for the first time since she arrived. She had a spreading bruise on her face. He stood up and touched her cheek. She jerked away. Rich eyes clouded over in a rage. "That muthafucka hit you? Speed did this?"
Simone wasn't one for tears and the little sister he'd known a few years ago wouldn't have stood for this. She blinked back a tear and he watched as her bottom lip began to tremble. She passed a hand over her face. "It ain't nothin. We just had a fight."
He nearly dragged her to the mirror next to the couch. "Do you see that? What happened to my Simone? Ain't no nigga puttin they hands on my sister." Rich took a quick hot shower and they were out the door in a matter of twenty minutes.
Rich slowed the 525 to a crawl. "Where he at?"
"He was sleep when I left. He probably still sleep wit his fat ass."
Rich parked across from her apartment building on 193rd and East Tremont. "Stay here, keep your hand on the lock. If you see that nigga comin out without me, hit the gas and get outta here."
She nodded. Rich got out and jogged across the street to the front door, planting on of his Tim's in it. It slammed against the back wall. He took the stairs two at a time, hitting the third floor and banging loudly on her door.

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.

Sunday, November 20, 2005


I'm finding that I'm enjoying being on the phone these days. I've never been a phone person, people call me up and have nothing to say. I hate that. Why did you bother? Contrary to popular opinion I do have a life. But then certain other people call and there seems like there's no end to the things you talk about. Things like Samuel L. Jackson and Bruce Willis. And Sly Stallone and Wesley Snipes. Just things.

*Long Sidebar: There is so much crap going on in the News today, its ridiculous. I'm watching CNN right now and it boggles the mind that the human race has evolved as far as it has. We find ever creative ways of being stupid.
  • Gainesville, Georgia -- A 37-year-old woman was charged with child molestation after being accused of having a sexual relationship with a 15-year-old boy whom she married last week. You have got to be freakin kiddin me. They're trying to get a sympathy vote for her because he's pregnant. Now has anyone else noticed that whenever a dude does this kind of crap, she's automatically a pig, a dog, a rapist, and every other name in the book. He's placed under arrest, his computers are seized, he's fired or placed on indefinite leave and scorned by his whole community. And yet this broad has people fighting for her. I don't give a hot rat's ass if she's pregnant. It's f*cking rape no matter how you slice it. "Oh no, its child molestation." Goddamn it, if he's a minor and she's not, its not a goddamn consensual relationship. Its rape. Whew. Let me calm down. And since no real 15 year old knows a damn thing about taking care of a baby it should be endagering the welfare of a child.
  • New York -- Finding affordable housing in New York is hard enough for most, but victims of Hurricane Katrina are facing eviction from hotels and may end up ringing in the New Year in the city's homeless shelters. That prospect led to shouting, anger and disgust at a meeting on Friday where officials took questions about the Federal Emergency Management Agency's decision to stop paying for hotel rooms beyond December 1 for those stranded by Katrina. Now I am not going to say a word about this, because I'm sure it would be taken the wrong way and make me sound like I have less of a heart that ya'll already think I have. What I am going to say is haven't these victims been tossed around enough? If the war effort nets a bill of $7 billion dollars a day, where is the money for FEMA to help these people out? Now according to my girl Mo, the destruction isn't as bad as the media plays it up to be. It's bad, but there are places that weren't that badly damaged. But what of the people whose homes are totally destroyed? The Shelter system is far from desirable, let me tell you. I live here. When homeless folks would rather sleep in the freezing cold than in a shelter, what does that say?
  • Tacoma, Wash. -- A gunman opened fire inside a busy shopping mall Sunday, wounding at least six people and taking three others hostage in a music store before he surrendered to a SWAT team, authorities said. Yeah. So you really had nothing else to do I see. You could have watched the- oh I get it. He was so depressed over the Redskins loss to the Raiders. Duh right? Makes sense now.
  • Mobile, Ala. -- Three-quarters of Alabama residents back the governor's call for a travel boycott of Aruba to protest the island's handling of the disappearance of teenager Natalee Holloway. The poll, conducted by the Mobile Register and University of South Alabama and released Sunday, also found that seven out of 10 respondents would not travel to the Caribbean island even if they won a free trip. Hmm. I wonder if her disappearance would have mattered had she been black.
  • Washington -- The U.S. is unprepared for the next flu pandemic, lacking the manufacturing capacity to provide 300 million doses of a vaccine for three to five more years, Health and Human Services Secretary Mike Leavitt. "What we all learned from (Hurricane) Katrina is that sometimes we have to think very clearly about the unthinkable," Leavitt said. "We're not as prepared as we need to be...We will not have enough for everyone." Riiiight. So I'm assuming there was a difference with the lack of Flu meds last years, the West Nile Virus the year before that or the Anthrax scare the year before that. Keep trying to scare folks into thinking the world is going to end. Just be real with them. We're unprepared. We don't have enough for everyone, there is a chance that some of you may die. That I can handle. I'm not going to be the one rocking back and forth in my living room, widows and doors sealed with masking tape, hands encased in latex gloves, afraid to breathe for fear of catching the deadly avian flu. Be serious. And another thing. How can you compare the Hurricane to the Bird Flu? I suppose as soon as a few Americans drop dead then folks will have something else to blame on Bush.
  • Washington -- The FDA wants condom packages to warn that condoms are less effective at stopping some sexually transmitted diseases, such as herpes and human papilloma virus, than others. I don't even know where to begin with this one. You need the FDA to tell you that? You don't watch the specials they have on TLC and Discovery and all that? You don't pick up them flyers when you're in the doc's office getting your check up? Ain't no damn condom gone save your ass from herpes. It doesn't just sit on the genitals. It spreads throughout the crotch area. So you do the mattress mambo long enough and you'll be at risk. Same with warts. People don't take care of themselves sexually these days. Pick up a pamphlet and arm yourself with knowledge.
*Sigh* I'd rather be on the phone discussing Poe's Angels with Batman. I was laughing my ass off when I thought about that. I'm not going to say what I was thinking at the moment because it would be totally inappropriate. The only thing I've read by Juel is posted and I haven't seen anything else. That piece I did like. I was hoping she would put more up and if she has I might have missed it. But I do know I want to meet her because she seems pretty cool.
I'm strongly debating the Book Fair. I don't know, it just seems to have lost its luster for me. If I were feeling better, maybe. I've been so down lately, it seems like there's not really much to smile about. That's of course because I don't get excited about things (I'd rather be lack luster than disappointed in the end) but it just doesn't seem like anything big anymore. I don't know. Maybe its the SAD. Shrugs.
Went shopping the other day. Stepped foot in Rainbow and look; three hundred dollars gone in twenty minutes. When you don't go expensive namebrand, its amazing how much money you save. I bought two pair of jeans, two sweatsuits, four shirts, a sweater, socks, a bunch of bras and panties, sunglasses (WTF?), a pair of boots and two books. All for about three thirty. If I were up in Jimmy Jazz, the jeans alone would have set me back about a buck. I didn't even get a pair of kicks. I'm going for them on Wednesday. I'm not interested in sneakers but I can't get anymore shoes right now. I'm on probation. :(
I bought True To The Game for my baby brother and Exclusive. Its already sucking. The main character is so damn immature and stupid and the writing is weak at best. I usually finish a book by now but I figure I can read it on the train to Long Island. Its moving so slow and her writing is so bad. I'm like I spent twelve on this sh*t? I could've gotten a wash and set for that much. Just like Bling. Yawn. Speaking of, I need to make an appointment for the hair salon.
(@ Mo, I'm posting Ain't Gold on Tuesday before I leave for my bro's house. Did you see Desperate Housewives tonight? WTF is really hood with George???)

Friday, November 18, 2005

Let's Be Real 2

This particular topic comes up in my neck of the woods all the time. It's something people can't help but discuss because nobody can run out of opinions. It is also the chance to prove yourself 'close-minded' as many would say. So be it.

Today's Topic: Interracial Relationships
(Before I continue, I'm not talking about every race, I'm talking about the black/white thing.)
I will begin by saying when I'm sitting on a bus or train, or walking through the streets and a couple comes toward me smiling brightly with Ebony and Ivory playing loudly behind them, yes, I do cringe and turn away. No I don't make faces (I was brought up that it is rude to make faces and point) but I do on the inside. Why?
Black slaves were murdered when it was thought that they carried on some affair with their white mistress. White women were put on a pedestal. Black women were subhuman, less than nothing. In return, black women were raped repeatedly by slavemasters who denied having anything to do with them. How much of that were people supposed to take?
Coming forward in time, nothing changed beyond the fact that slavery was abolished. The majority of white people (and before I continue let me also say that I do not believe white folks are the devil, that all white folks are evil or that all white folks are racist. As you can recall, the Quakers were white and did all they could to help as many slaves as possible) were brought up misguided and taught to hate black people. (Or anyone who didn't look like them for that matter.)
Now that all the history is out of the way, I can get to my point. Since the white woman has for years been viewed as the ultimate prize, (light skin, long light hair, light eyes) and the darker sisters were led to believe that they weren't beautiful and would never measure up, why not go for the gold?
Personally, I think these woman are desirable because they will do what a black woman won't. They say stereotypes have a bit of truth to them. I'm not going to let you talk to me anyway, order me around, put your hands on me, or be submissive with childlike innocence. You're a grown woman for Godsakes. Why is your man running your life? It has been said that a white woman will put up with what a black woman won't. In some cases this is true. (See the Brothers, the scene with Bill Bellamy and the Tessie chick)
Another reason some go for the gold ( I like that phrase, I think I'll keep using it) is because of rejection. After constant failed relationships with members of your own race, you may feel discouraged. Tired of having their heart hurt, one may say they would rather give another race a chance than keep waiting around and keep getting the same response.
I've come to notice a big part of GFTG is perception. Assumption, really. People assume that all black women are automatically "ghetto". Not true. (We just ain't havin it. Four hundred years of slavery, we ain't fittin to take nobody else's sh*t, hear me?) White women know how to present themselves in public and black women are loud and abrasive. White women can dress for the office and black women only own clothes for the club. White women can speak proper English, black women only speak Ebonics. White women cater to their man's every beck and call and black women are always starting fights. White women aspire to have good families and jobs and black women are striving to be in the next music video to pay their rent and feed their kids.
(Let me be the first to say that I can disprove this stereotype. I know how to act in public, I have no children, I speak fluent English, read 200 WPM and type 70 WPM, probably own more suits than the average eighteen year old, I treat my man as good if not better than he treats me, and I have dreams and aspirations out of this world.)
So why not GFTG when all you see is your women being portrayed negatively? You have a better chance of getting ahead with a trophy on your arm, right? Not that Keisha from down the block who is bound to make scene if you take her anywhere.
Love who you want to love. I have no problem with that. But don't expect me to be cool with it. I do not believe you should live by other people's standards of happiness. Just keep in mind thats its never going to be widely smiled upon, much like gay marriage. You run the risk of being hated on and dissed. That's just the way it is. I'm not going to take out my beliefs on anyone, I'm not driving past shouting 'nigger-lover' at the top of my lungs, no. Do you. Just don't bring it around me.
I'll finish out by saying this: in 1955 an innocent young man was brutally and savagely murdered because it was assumed that he allegedly whistled at a white woman. A child, was murdered like a pig at the slaughter house because it was thought that he whistled at a white woman. Harmless whistling. Happens to me in the street all the time. Had he been white the circumstances would have been quite different.
You go head and date em if you wanna.

Next week's post: Immigration

Miscellaneous Thoughts: Early Edition

When I start to think about what I don't have, I always try and remember what I do. Because no matter how little you have, there is always someone somewhere out there with less. The way I see it, as long as you have one person who loves you, you have more than enough to get you by.

I'm running on empty. I never did get to sleep last night and I'm about to go out and take care of about ten things, meaning I won't be home til about four. Me and Mo signed off around four and I swore I would be asleep after that. No such luck. I've been up since two yesterday and I won't be getting to sleep until somewhere around five or six. If that. One of these happy days I'm going to collapse from exhaustion. Shocked it hasn't happened already.

I finally figured out what I'm going to submit. It was a piece I was working on earlier this summer that I didn't get to finish. Looking back on it, I realized I should have picked that one first. Its perfect. It's already outlined and ready to go.

I'm watching MTV. I'm so sick of Ginuwine. I really don't get the appeal behind that guy. He's such a fruit basket.

You ever woke up with an unexplainable (or inexplicable, your pick) bruise? I was showering this morning and when I stepped out to dry off I happened to notice a black and blue just above my kneecap. What is that about?

Still watching MTV. I love Madonna.
Oh, and tonight's Let's Be Real post will be discussing Interracial Relationships. One of my brother's favorite topics. He doesn't feel quite the same way I do. So the post will explain everything for him so he can leave me alone once and for all.

Nothing screams 'good morning' like a hot bowtie and hot chocolate. If you'll excuse me, I need to find my gloves so I can get out of here.

(Still watching MTV. How corny is Slim Thug?)

Thursday, November 17, 2005

How Desperate Are You?

It makes me laugh sometimes.
It really has me in stitches that people so desperately wish for what they cannot have. They aren't making a move to get it and yet they sit there and pine over it like a sick puppy over its lost mother. They throw temper tantrums and have conniptions when they think someone is getting what they think they should have.
I'm glad I got that off my chest. I'd been up thinking about it all night. Little things like jealousy and hate are so taxing. Why waste so much time trying to be something you're not? Or trying to get something you'll never have? Just let it go. Go back to what you were doing before and move on. There will be plenty of other chances and even if there aren't, you can always find another way to spend your time.
Now before I get violently upset and keep this post going on for more than a page, I'm going to change the subject. My sister and I were having an in depth discussion a few moments ago. She's so nosey its sad. She started springing me with 20 Questions earlier this morning after repeatedly peeking over my shoulder to try and follow my chat as best she could. I would paraphrase but the extended version is so much better:
Nylazia: (face buried in a XXL magazine) How long you gone be on there? I wanna check my mail.
Jacki: How bout you go home?
N: This is my home. You know you love me.
J: I do love you. It's my computer and I get off when I want to.
N: Stink. You still talkin?
J: What do you think?
N: Damn, you been talkin to the nigga all night. You f*ckin him or somethin?
J: I'm not sure that's any of your business.
N: It is my business.
J: How?
N: Cuz I tell you my business. So I wanna know yours.
J: Whatever.
silence.....and then....
N: You like him?
J: I wouldn't be talking to him if I didn't.
N: (lowers the magazine) Why you gotta be so fresh?
J: Why you gotta be all in my sh*t?
N: Cuz I love you. So you f*ckin him or not?
J: (laughs) His roommate asked him the same thing.
N: That's not answering my question.
J: I wish.
N: You wish? How long you been talkin to him and you aint f*ckin him?
J: Number one, I'm not you. Number two he's in Philly.
N: (lifts magazine) Long distance dick? What's wrong with the niggas here?
J: Think about JL and ask that again.
N: True. You goin to see him?
J: He's supposed to be coming up here.
N: When?
J: Hopefully January.
N: You gone f*ck him then?
(Sidebar: My sister is a nymphomaniac if you haven't already figured it out. Every other sentence out of her mouth is pertaining to sex. She's a diehard Zane fan, practically memorized every word of all her books. No redeeming qualities but for the fact that she knows every position of the Kama Sutra. The fact that she has never been and probably never will be in love (nor a one woman man) is why other peoples sex lives (not relationships) are so important to her.)
J: Does it matter?
N: Yes.
J: Why?
N: When's the last time you got some?
J: (laughs)
N: Exactly. He likes you?
J: Yes.
N: How you know?
J: He said so.
N: So what?
J: I don't think he would lie like that.
N: He's a man.
J: All men aren't the same.
N: Yes they are. All men lie, all men cheat, all men are dogs.
J: It's that kind of thinking that has you alone on Friday nights with a Jack Rabbit.
N: F*ck you bitch.
J: Ya mama.
N: I'm tellin.
J: Go head.
silence...pages turning...and then...
N: He got a girl?
J: Yea.
N: (sits up) For real?
J: As far as I know yes.
N: You gone f*ck him anyway?
J: Will you get off that?
N: You want to?
J: Love to.
N: even though he got a girl?
J: That'll change eventually.
N: You jinxin her?
J: No I'm just saying.
N: You like him like that?
J: I do.
N: So you gone do some Hollywood sh*t and take his ass?
J: No dumb ass. We probably won't anyway.
N: Why you say?
J: I don't think he's a cheater.
N: The way ya'll be talkin I thought he was just f*ckin a bunch of bitches.
J: I did too. He's not like that.
N: Yeah right.
J: You don't know him.
N: He's a man. What more do I need to know?
J: Whatever.
N: You talk to him on the phone?
J: Now and then.
N: He got a nice voice?
J: Does he.
N: What ya'll talk about?
J: A little bit of everything.
N: Can I ask a question?
J: Go head.
N: Are you gone f*ck him or not?
J: Lock the door on your way out.
I love her to death as you can see. We kind of lost touch within the past year but she tries to come around as often as possible. She's moving to Cali in a little while and I'll be damned if I'm going out there. Florida was a strtch. Cali? Not a chance.
My eldest brother, whom I affectionately refer to as the Flamingo, is trying to get me to come see Rent with him. I'd rather fall into a boiling lake of lava and have my skin stripped from my body by egrets. He ran the soundtrack into the ground when the play came out. Since the soundtrack wasn't all that great I'm not so gung ho about wasting ten perfectly good dollars to see the movie. He lives out in Long Island and I'm going to visit him and my other sister over Thanksgiving. I informed him that if he wanted me to go see that movie, he would have to pay for my boots. (See November 11th) Those are my non-negotiable terms. There was silence on the other line.
That's what I thought.

Mini Post

I took yet another personality test. I already know my personality, I just think these tests are fun. This one asks what world leader I am. If you know me well, you already know without even looking at the picture. I was kind of hurt at first, as I found Hitler to be supremely dirtbaggish but like Jay says, you are who you are playa. I really do see threats everywhere, I'm paranoid about being hurt again and I always do focus on worst case scenarios. I'm a natural pessimist so they weren't far off. The killing enemies is way off. I just stay away from them.
Another test describes what classic movie I am. According to them, I am the Godfather (one of my favorite movies of all time) because I am all about power and control. I'm not really about power and control. I just like having things my way. I can compromise but I guess I've gotten used to the do it my way or don't do it kind of thing. *Shrugs*
Happy flying Monica! She's on her way out of Wheatville this morning. Stayed up chatting all night as we often do because her flight left at six and she needed to be up and running at three. Four Red Bulls, and her heart is still pumping at a normal rate. I was a little nervous when she said that. Four? I mean after one I was up for nearly a day and a half. I can only imagine how long its going to take her to fall asleep.
I remember ny first plane ride. It was pleasant until my ears started to pop on the descent. I recalled reading somewhere that sucking on something helps soothe the annoyance. The only thing I had was my thumb so I was sitting there looking retarded sucking the hell out of my thumb trying to get my ears to stop popping. My mother was across the aisle, tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. Then, just as we touch down, she pulls a lollipop out of her purse and bursts into laughter again. So cruel.
The Gods have answered my prayers. It is 41 degrees this morning. With luck we'll get a serious cold front and drop it down to twenty. With a little more luck we'll have snow. Fingers crossed.
(As you can see I got rid of that damn dog. He didn't serve a purpose and he was pissing me off with his I'm-just-going-to-stand-here crap. He puts all virtual pets to shame. Where's a Tamogatchi when you need one?)

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

In Love Alone

I'm in love with you
and you don't even know
Wherever your heart is
That's where I want to go
I know
It seems crazy
Seems so unreal
That all I long for
is to feel
your hand in mine
Your body by my side
I want your mind
and your soul
I want you and I to be one
I want this waiting to be
over and done
I look in your eyes
as you pass me by
You notice me, smile
and wave
Never do you know that its your touch
that I crave
I can't tell you
I don't know how
And we're both in different places right now
You don't know
That each day I make up thoughts of you
and hoping
and praying
one day we can go
Because I'm so in love with you
And you don't even know

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Insomniac Theatre

As you can see I've completely sold out and adopted one of those terribly corny virtual pets. May I add that Fuzz performs nothing useful. I thought he would at least come with a chew toy. No such luck. He stands there and pants, occasionally jumping into the air if offered a dog biscuit. (May I also add that with three cats in my house a virtual dog is as close as I will get to having one)
Today was the usual boring as hell day. I stayed up all night writing (the first novel is in the process of its second edit, looking good if I can say so myelf) I spent twenty minutes oerfecting two paragraphs and as soon as I did, my car skidded off the road and hit the brick wall that is Writer's Block. Getting the Block when you've already written the book is quite strange. It's like watching the video of a rehearsal you just finished. As you're cheering with your dancers and wiping sweat from your brow, you see where you could have done this and where you can fix that. Necessary to work harder and get it right for the big performance.
I fell asleep on the couch at around three, woke up around five. Beyond that cat nap, I've been awake since eleven AM yesterday. If I keep this up I'll be suffereing from a severe case of sleep deprivation. I'm scared of sleeping pills, I don't trust them. So I just write until I can't see anymore, or until my face hits the keyboard, whichever comes first.
Bats is almost done. Feeling optimistic, I'm proud of him. Last I checked he stood at fifteen thousand to go.
(Sidebar: You ever get the feeling that something is not quite right? I can't seem to shake it and it could just be the lack of sleep talking, but for the past couple of days, I've been having the strangest feeling. Usually, my feelings are right and I'm hoping this one isn't.)
Feel free to donate to the boot fund. (See Nov 11th, Let's Be Real) I've had my eye on those babies for the longest. Its this whole damn budget thing. I'm not very good at saving. If I have to save for food, sure. Clothes, sure. Necessities, sure. But its another thing when it comes to footwear. I really do need an intervention before it gets bad.
I got quite a few emails from folks angry over both my revised BET list and my recent Name In Bed list. Let me say this, none of these folks pay my rent. This is purely recreational. You don't like it, get over it! If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked. You know me by now. I very rarely hold my tongue. (To Danika, you know damn well how I feel about the whole Terry McMillian thing. I have not one iota of sympathy for her. Homie looked suspect from day one. Yes, you can look gay. Usher does it quite well on a regular basis. His fruity ass can join David Gest and Mr. Star Jones-Reynolds in that club. Yeah, I said it!)
If I feel it needs to be said, I'm going to say it. (To Brian, just because he's a rapper doesn't make Jay-Z a handsome guy. His wallet is fine yes. Him? Not so much. And why the hell are you ratin dudes anyway? How you doin?)
Also, to G-Payne, VisualEyes, RubbabandMan#1 and MoxCrew, no I will not remove TO from his prominent place on the List of People who Scream Their Own Names in Bed. Keep it up and I'll put him at Numero Uno where he rightfully belongs. The nigga got a fat ass mouth. Yes, he is a bomb ass player, he lights it up when he's on the field. (Just because I'm a chick doesn't mean I don't know.) But he needs to keep his trap shut. I'm all for saying what you want to say. I've been a proud member of that club since '87. But I've had to learn there's a time and a place. And obviously he hasn't figured that out yet. So no I will not remove him.

*Monica, I'm going under the radar tonight so when you finish reading PI, send me an email and tell me what you thought.*

RIP Oz 1984-2005
You always told me you were ready to die
So when the heat was on you said
Baby it's my time
I only wish I could have been there
to say goodbye
You told it would happen
And when it did, not to cry
I know you're on your way home
So spread your wings
and fly
Angel, fly
In case you're wondering, he was one of my closest friends. Yet another senseless death to chalk up to "the game". His birthday would have been this Friday. He leaves behind his wife, Akeysha, and two daughters, Taleesa and Jazmine. I'm tired of funerals. I really am. So help me God, I'm going write my way out of the hood if it kills me.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Dirty Little Secrets

I was up this morning after yet another all nighter with Batman. Didn't get to sleep until sometime after ten. Anyway, I was watching MTV (something I rarely do) and this video Dirty Little Secrets by the All American Rejects came on. I happen to like it. I've gotten back into rock because there is no good rap left to listen to. It's all a combination of recycled Dirty South beats, no talent word spewing and the latest bullcrap from the G-Unit camp. (Love Fifty, but the rest of them have got to step it up.)
So anyway I was listening and watching and part of the video is people hiding their faces and holding up cards with their secrets on them. And I got to thinking. How much do you really know about people? I'm sure there are things my girls would never tell me. And please believe there are things I would never tell them. Bats and I had been talking a little while back and let me say this, you won't know what they don't tell you.
I got to thinking again after that misty moment passed and wondered aloud whether or not I had any secrets. And I found I had a bevy of them laying around. Well, not exactly laying around. They're locked away. I've got plenty of skeletons hanging in my closet. When it comes down to it a secret is simply something you don't want anyone to know. The reasons vary. It all boils down to how much you really want people to know about you.
I'm private. I don't like to give away too much about me. And I think deep down, everyone feels the same way. There is not a soul on the planet (IMO) with nothing to hide.
I feel like the deodorant commercial now. What's my secret? I still suck my thumb. *

Popping In To Say...

RIP Eddie Guerrero 1967-2005
I find this kind of sucky. 38 is too damn young to be dead. I don't even know the guy, much less watch wrestling, but it's sad anyway.

Also: You can't be serious. I'm slow as hell, ya'll already know that. But Caushun the Gay Rapper? Where am I? What year is it? What's going on? It's 4:11 in the morning and I am sitting here dumbfounded as I read the screen. (Feel free to add synonyms for dumbfounded.) I was just talking about this in the Let's Be Real post. And now this. This must have been what 50 was talking about. Oy. What is the world coming to?
*Laughing* And end, says my cousin from over my shoulder.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

...Ain't Gold (Part Eight)

"Is he cute?"
Nicole winced. Chuchi was twisting her hair back but she was killing her. She was tapping her foot, sitting on her hands, resisting the urge to jump out of her hair and scream Damnit, could you make these any looser? Cuz I can't feel anything!
"Would I have gone out with him if he weren't?"
"You went out with Stretch."
"That was a different story."
"How was it different?"
Nikki didn't quite have an answer. She liked Stretch, yes, and her reasons for breaking up with him had nothing to do with his outer appearance. "Forget it."
Chuchi had known Nicole for way too long to believe anything she said about a man. Nicole's bad choices regarding men were notorious. She dated and fell in love for all the wrong reasons, and everytime she did, Chuchi resisted the urge to shout I told you so! She never listened and one of these days, Chuchi knew it would catch up to her.
"How was the date?"
Nicole picked up an Essence and thumbed through the fashion pages. "It was nice."
She spoke around a bobby pin. "Nice like what? Like are you seeing him again or was it a nice date on vacation?"
"I'm seeing him again."
"This weekend."
Chuchi frowned and secured a lock of hair with a bobby pin. "Don't you have that birthday party this weekend?"
"That was last week. This Friday I have the office party."
"So you can go on a date and throw an office party?"
Nikki sighed, annoyed that Chuchi was being so slow. "No. I'm going out with him on Saturday, the party is Friday."
"I like him enough. It's just a couple of dates."
"Yeah. A couple of dates turns into staying over after dinner and calling me at three in the morning talkin about oh girl I am so in love with him. He is so fine."
Nikki turned around and hit Chuchi with the magazine. "I never called you at three in the morning over no man!"
Chuchi laughed and gave her a final spray. "You know admission is the first step to recovery hoe."
"Then yo mama should be well on her way."
Chuchi gasped and chased her friend out of the kitchen.

Rich looked from Toots to Cookie and back. He had to tell the truth to Toots but saying a word would mean admitting he what he had don was wrong. Rich had a problem admitting he was wrong. And then there was the chance she would kill him anyway once he told her what happened.
Toots face was contorted in anger. "Rich if you don't tell me what's going on right now I will kill you myself."
He knew that was a lie, his Toots loved him too much, but at this point he couldn't doubt her. He closed his eyes as he spoke to her.
"She's talking about the baby, Toots."
She nodded. Okay, this was something she knew. "The baby. What about the baby?"
Cookie cocked her head. "Go on."
He sighed, hands still in the air. "It wasn't Sammie's baby."
Toots looked at her sister as the words came out of his mouth.
"It was my baby. And I told her to get rid of it."
"But why?"
"Because I didn't want it. I can't afford a baby. We were just starting out. We were making money. How the hell was I supposed to care for a baby? I don't even know how to change a goddamn diaper."
"So you made her kill it?"
"Don't interrupt Toots. Keep going Rich."
"Cookie do we have to-"
"Keep going Rich," Cookie said, tightening her grip on the gun.
"There's more?"
"Oh yes. This is where it gets good."
Rich swallowed spit, which was pretty hard seeing there was a lump in his throat. "The night she got arrested," his voice cracked. "The night she got arrested, I didn't stop them. I let them take her."
"You what?" Toots screeched.
Cookie's hand began to shake, as she struggled to keep her aim on Rich. "Let me. First, he made me kill my baby. You remember when the Feds came and got me, don't you Toots? He let them take me. He stood there. They dragged me out of my bed and took me away and he never said a word.
"There was a reason he didn't talk about the trial. There was a reason he didn't let you go. You wanna know why Toots?"
Toots was covering her mouth with her hands and shaking as tears rolled down her face. She didn't want to hear anymore. The Rich she knew wouldn't do something like that. Not her Rich.
"He went in that courtroom and he lied. He told the Feds everything they wanted to know. He told them a bunch of lies and they locked me up for what he did. He locked me up so I would keep my mouth shut about the baby."
"No!" Toots finally screamed. "You're lying!"
"Ask him if I'm lying. Ask him!" she shouted.
Toots had dropped her knees, unable to contain her grief. How could he lie to her? How could he do this to her? "Please," she managed though her tears. "Please say no."
Rich wished he could. He had already done enough damage. He had lied to her long enough and if he pulled a fast one now, she'd blow his brains out.
"I'm sorry Toots."

Mookie sat back and folded his hands. Maxell had been going on for twenty minutes now about how he had been betrayed, how bad it was going to be for Rich when he found him. Mookie found himself nearly falling asleep; that jet lag was a bitch.
"Find Shadow." Those words had Mookie sit up straight, unsure he had heard correctly.
"What do you mean 'find Shadow'? There's a reason why her name is Shadow. Can't no damn body find her."
Maxell whirled and stuck one of his fat fingers in Mookie's chest. "I do not care what the reasons are. I wan't her found and I want her dead." Maxell reached into his jacket pocket, removed a cigar and posed with the cutter in his fingers.
"Or is that too hard for you? You're going to let some fucking mystery bitch give you the slip?"
Mookie shifted in his seat. "I'll find her."
"Are you sure?"
"I said I'll find her. Lay the fuck off." He stood, straightened his clothes and walked out of the room.
"I'm hoping so."
Mookie walked out to his car in a blaze of anger. He was pissed off that Maxell had questioned his masculinity. He would never do that to Rich. Even if they were faking kindness, he knew Maxell respected Rich. Pretty soon, he would be the one getting all the respect. He just had to bide his time.
Patience was a virtue but waiting was a muthaf*cka.

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.
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Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take and may this song play all the way, through. And if it skip a beat, hit repeat, this the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. If it skip a beat, hit repeat, This the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. -Juelz Sanatana, This Is Me, What The Game's Been Missing