Sit Your Ass Down Awards 2005

As this year draws to a close, we must sit back and reflect on the foolishness that went on in 2005. Because it will not be happening again in 2006. These are the official Sit Your Ass Down Awards, live and uncensored.

Shall We?
*D4L- You cannot be serious. Shake that Laffy Taffy does not count as actually lyrics unless they are part of a junior high school double dutch routine. Your beat sounds like it was made in someone's basement and that 4 is just in there to throw us off. Its DL, we know.
*Bow Wow- "...I got a girl that every man wants and she got a man that every girl wants."
(Let me also say that this dude got the Nigga Please Award two weeks in a row. Get back at us when you're twenty-one.)
*Webbie- Girl gimme that...Enough said.
*Mike Jones- Who?
*Kanye West- "If I don't get the album of the year award I'm gone throw a fit." Puh-leeze.
*Vonetta Wallace- Swears everyone is profiting off her son's demise. She's made about three hundred books on the subject. Who really needs to cut it out?
*Trina- Make a date with Oxford so you can live the Glamourous Life.
*G-Unit- The second of coming of the Wu-Tang Clan is getting a little bit ridiculous. You started out as a four man group. Now you are a small country.
*Trillville- I don't even have the words.
*Damon Dash- "If you ain't under the umbrella you gone get rained on." Tap tap nigga! Its raining!
*Lil Kim- When risking your neck for your homies sends your ass to prison, it ain't worth it. If I'm going down, all ya'll ass is comin with me. I'm not trying to hear any of that loyalty bullsh*t. Please. I'm not trying to be the only one up in here getting a rap sheet.
*R. Kelly- Either come out of the closet or not. And if you write one more damn step song...
*Ciara- Maybe you can let the gas out of Bow Wow's head and put it in your sales.
*Keyshia Cole- "Check the sales. Ain't nobody nicer than me right now." Yes, and it took you four months to go gold. Not platinum.
*T.Error Marie- Is there any girls around that know how to sing?
*Chris Brown- Run it to some vocal lessons.
*Brandy- Grow up. Really.
*Olivia- I'm sorry and you are?
*Mariah Carey- You have put up the charade for far too long now. We loved you on Vision of Love, we loved Emotions, we tolerated Fantasy and Charm Bracelet and Butterfly. We forgave you for Glitter. But The Emancipation of Mimi has taken it quite far. Like I keep telling everyone; there could be no supply without a demand. If we stop buying them, she'll stop making them.
*Destiny's Child- If you're going to retire, do so. No more comebacks, no more shows, no more appearances. And don't even think about a reunion album.
*Lindsey Lohan- We understand you're going through some things right now but taking it out on us is not fair.
*Ashlee Simpson- From lip synching on SNL to falling out in Japan, you've come a long way girl! Now if you can go a little further, a little further. Wait, a bit more. Yes, now you are off the stage.
*Britney Spears- Do the words 'just fade into oblivion' mean anything to you?
*Karrine Steffans- Huh. I could go on and on about this topic but all I'm going to say is that her son is going to grow up one day. And he is going to learn to read. And he is going to be embarrassed as hell that she is his mother.
*Terry McMillian- I could have called that from a mile away. He looked like a fruitbasket from the day you met him honeychild. Which brings me to...
*Star Jones- So you lost some weight. And all your class and dignity went with it. You look awful and apparently you don't act much better. Come on Star. I was down when you were reppin with the big girls but then you went to the other side. Like Mo'Nique says, skinny women are evil.
*Sheryl Underwood- Ghetto country ass bama. Lord have mercy. Is it an epidemic or was she just raised that way?
*Tom Cruise- Two minutes into that labor and Katie's gonna be screaming like a bat out of hell. There is no way she is going to have a silent birth. Oh, and depression is an ass kicker. Look it up.
*Samuel L. Jackson- For obvious reasons. (Triple X and Formula 51 being two of them.)
*Terrance Howard- Once again, you just started getting good roles so there is no need for the gums to be flapping.
*Shemar Moore- No, light skinned brothers are not making a comeback.
*Jessica Alba- Stop it. Seriously.
*Sarah Jessica Parker- A series of Gap commercials is not enough to save you from the downward spiral that was the series finale of Sex and the City. The show was good while it lasted, don't try to milk it for anything more.
*Sylvester Stallone and Bruce Willis- You both already know what I'm going to say. You're too got dang old to be playing these high school roles. You're both over fifty. No more.
*Holly Robinson Peete- The only reason you had a career is because you married Rodney. No one remembers you from 21 Jump Street.
*Condoleeza Rice- You grew up in Alabam and never experienced racism? I'm still trying to get that one. I remember someone telling me she was a woman young black girls should look up to. For what? The support of a lying murdering administration? I don't think so.
*Donald Rumsfeld- Grow some balls, seriously.
**George W. Bush- I don't even know where to begin. As you can see, next to my posts, there is a Countdown. It tells you exactly how long we have until this hell is over. (Even though I can't really front, I'm quite sure we'd be going to hell in a handbasket if we left it up to John Kerry) George Bush has singlehandedly destroyed the entire world. Seriously. The 2,000 Americans killed in his psuedo war don't even half counter the 30,000 lives lost in Iraq. And we are still waiting for an explanation. You claimed that 9/11 taught us to always be aware of our enemies. Okay. Then you flew over Iraq that same night and blew up a hospital and a school. Right. What the hell does Saddam Hussein have to do with Osmam bin Laden? Its like trying Hitler from crimes committed by Napoleon. Get real. Its a shock to me that there have been no attempts on his life as of yet.

Please tune in next year, December 29, for the 2006 edition.

Also, while I am here, let me say this:
I love ya'll all for holding me down. From my very first post until now, I've had quite a few faithful readers and I'm glad you all stuck with me for the ride. I will be going on a short hiatus, and I will return on New Year's Day for the 100th post party. Yes!!! New Year's Day will be my official 100th post. So I will see you soon.
Happy New Year from New York and I'm out.

What It Means To Be "B"

I'm not feeling very inspired right now. I have two Bootcamp exercises to finish, both courtesy of Batman. I've got to redo the first one because he firmly believes it was scary, not horror. Aaaargh!! This is killing me, ya'll have no idea. I am trying so hard. This is just not my genre. I told him I wasn't going to complain, but that was only to save hours of me bitching and moaning about how much I hate him for being so mean to me. (If you're reading this I love you to pieces but you are going to put me in an early grave.)
It wouldn't have been a hard exercise if I knew anything about the genre. I don't watch horror movies, I don't read those books, I don't even like it. The only thing I know about horror is those corny teen slasher flicks (I Know/Still Know What You did Last Summer, The Ring, Darkness Falls, Scream, etc...) Those were horri-ble but not horror. Those kinds of things don't scare me.
He said write about things that scare you. Like what? I am having such a hard time with this. But I'm going to suck it up and do it because I didn't get to be B by being soft. @ VisualEyes, you can stop feening now, I posted Ain't Gold tonight. And to freestylincuzican, that's not the Batgirl I was talking about. The one in my YIM window? That one. Its actually bigger than that. Her whole body, not just the face.
I made spaghetti and meatballs hella late today, like ten or something. My baby bro was not in the mood to clean the ktichen and if he thinks my ass was going to clean up a mess I didn't make he had another thing coming. I am nobody's damn slave. I clean up, not clean up after. Let's get that straight now. (So no, RubbabandMan, I will not be picking your funky ass drawers up off the floor when you come out of the shower.) *Laughing*
Speaking of tattoos, I went to the parlor and got inked yesterday. Did I say that already? Please alert me if I did, ya'll know my memory ain't sh*t. It's a work in progress, I've got the name, I'm just waiting to go get the picture. Give this one a chance to heal before I go messin around in the same spot, ya feel me?
I was on the phone with Bats the other night. He's like so how do you take care of it? I'm like no water, no pressure for seven days, and take off the bandage after an hour. He's like bandage? You wear a bandage? I'm like umm yeah doesn't everyone? He's like hell naw! Once again, sadist. I am not trying to have someone rubbing up against my brand new ink. Seriously.
Jazz birthday is this weekend. She's going to be turning the big one eight, finally. Her birthday is the thirtieth. That's like as late as it can possibly get. I always thought my b-day was hella late but she takes the cake. Ha ha I made a funny by accident. Get it? Its her birthday, she takes the cake? Okay, let me stop before it gets really bad.
Should I buy shoes this weekend? Its been over a month since I last bought a pair. I'm taking votes. I'll count them up and have the results back tomorrow. Right now, I'm going to bed. Night.

...Ain't Gold (Part Thirteen)

“Rich?”
“What’s up baby?”
“Hi. Just callin to check on you. Make sure you're alright.”
“Everything is tight, mama,” he said, slapping Toots hands away from the bricks in front of him.
“Do you think I could come over?”
He looked around. There was no way he could let her in his apartment with it looking like this. There was cocaine everywhere. “Actually, I was gone pick you up for dinner.”
“Oh! Oh, okay. What should I wear?”
“Anything I can see your sexy body through.”
Nicole giggled on the other line. “Alright. Call me when you’re downstairs.”
“Aright baby. Bye.”
Toots had her hands on her hips. “Now how you gone tell her that fat white one when you know we gotta get this shit weighed an took out of here?”
“You let me worry about that.”
“Rich, there ain't no way you gone make it to the Bronx and back in enough time to see her.”
He put up a hand that said ‘say somethin else’. “I got this, Toots, aright? I said let me handle it.”
She threw her hands in the air. “Fine, big baller. Whatever. But I’m tellin you now, I told you so.” She went into the bathroom and shut the door.
Toots helped him load up the trunk. Rich looked at his watch. “It should take us about twenty minutes to get out there and twenty minutes back. She gone call me when she ready, so that should be within the hour. She gotta do her hair and take a shower, so we should have ten minutes left over.”
The ride to the Bronx went smoothly. Then the unexpected happened. A police car stopped them on the Concourse. Rich punched the steering wheel hard.
“Come on man, don’t do this to me. Not tonight.” He rolled down his window.
“License and registration please.”
He pointed. “It’s in my glove compartment.” Toots handed it to him. She knew he kept his Beretta in the glove compartment. She’d taken the paperwork out when she saw the sirens. If the officer saw a weapon, and unlicensed, they’d be hauled downtown so fast their heads would spin.
“We’re checking all vehicles that fit this description, sir. There was a homicide in the tri-state area this morning and a vehicle similar to this one fits. But today’s your lucky day. Our perp was white. Ya’ll have a good night, now.”
“Thanks officer.” Rich sucked his teeth. They made it to the spot without a hitch. As soon as they got there, they encountered another problem. Their connect was trying to get a larger cut off the work from their backs. They had argued back and forth until Rich threatened the man’s life. He choked him and told him he wouldn’t let go next time. No one tried anything stupid because they all respected and feared Rich. They left with the connect agreeing on his usual ten percent.
“Take the Cross Bronx. It’ll be faster.” Against his better judgment, Rich did. There was a multi car pile up and it was backing up traffic along the entire route. “Nice goin, Toots,” he said. “Take the Cross Bronx. It’ll be faster,” he mocked. The traffic was a crawl at best. There was a small spurt and they began moving slowly forward. His phone rang. Rich looked down at his watch. He was already over an hour late. He flipped his SideKick to Toots. “Answer that.”
“Hello?”
“Who’s this?” Nicole asked suspiciously.
“This is Toots.”
“Who are you and why are you answerin his phone? Where’s Rich?”
“He’s right here.”
“Put him on the phone, please.”
Toots handed the phone to Rich, like it was a parasite. “You bought to get chewed out, nigga,” she said. He rolled his eyes at her, taking the phone.
“Hey, Nik. This Rich.”
“Don’t hey Nik me. Who was that?”
“That was Toots. She’s my-”
Nicole cut him off. “She’s your what? Why is she on your phone?”
“I told her to answer it for me.”
“What are you doing that you can’t answer your phone?”
“I’m driving,” he replied.
“Where are you?”
“I’m on the Expressway.”
“What expressway? You got some girl in your car, Richard?”
“I’m not in the car with some girl, Nikki. I’m with Toots. She’s my friend.”
“Your friend. Right. Do I look like Biz Markie to you? When were you planning on callin me?”
“You told me to call you when I got downstairs. I’m not downstairs.”
“Where you comin from?”
He sighed. “From the Bronx.”
“What were you doing in the Bronx?”
Jeez. “I had to take care of something and then I was comin right back to get you. But I got pulled over and then I got stuck in traffic.”
Nicole was hardly buying it. “Whatever Rich. Look, forget it. Just stay wherever you are.”
“Nicole. Why you actin like that? You actin like I’m tryna play you or somethin.”
“You are tryna play me, Rich. I called you almost an hour and a half ago. Then I call again, some bitch picks up the phone and you ain't nowhere near my house, claimin you stuck in traffic. Just go home.”
“Nicole, you trippin, for real. There ain't no reason for you to be actin like I did somethin wrong. I ain't got no reason to lie to you!”
“Just go home, aright? I don’t feel like seein you tonight.” She hung up.
By this time they had made it off the expressway. Rich looked at the phone in disbelief. “Who the fuck she talkin to like that?” he asked no one in particular.
“What she say?” Toots asked.
“Talkin bout don’t come get her. She just played herself, for real. I don’t know who she used to fuck wit, but I ain't none of them old niggas.” He sped towards 169th street, dropping Toots off. Making a neat U-turn, he went back in the direction of 155th. Parking outside her building, Rich stormed angrily to the front door. He buzzed her apartment.
“Who?”
“Open this door, Nicole.” To his surprise, she buzzed him in. He was too angry to take the elevator, so he walked to her floor. He knocked on her door.
“What do you want, Rich?”
He pushed past her into the apartment, shutting the door, taking her hand and sitting her down in the living room. He took off his coat, tossing on the couch next to her, but remained standing in front of her. He needed to talk this out or he would punch her in the face.
“You wanna know where I was at, Nicole? Aight. When you called me, I was countin money. I had to go to the Bronx so I could move some weight. I got pulled over by a cop cuz they lookin for somebody whose car looks like mine. Then I get to the Bronx. Shit got a little hectic wit my connect, took me a while to leave. When I left up out of there, I got on the Expressway so I could get here faster cuz I promised I would come see you. There was an accident on the highway in case you ain't know. The pope couldn’t get through if he wanted to. Then you called me. Toots is my friend. She works with me. I ain't datin her, I ain't fuckin her, so get that out your head right now. I asked her to answer my phone cuz I was drivin. I known her for ten years and I ain't ever seen he like that.
“You know what I do, Nikki. You know how I’m livin my life. And in case you don’t, we gone get it straight right now. I’m a hustla, mama. I’m out there. I’m grindin, on some serious shit. You wanna really know? I drove to the Bronx wit two hundred fifty kilos in my trunk. When the fuckin cop pulled me over, I was scared. I might not ever see the streets again if he told me to pop the trunk. But worse than that. I would never see you again. I was holdin my breath til he said okay. I’m out there hopin I can last the night and come see you and all you can do is bitch about who’s on my phone?
“I don’t know who you was wit before me, but if they took that shit from you, I’ma tell you somethin; I ain't havin it. I ain't fuckin ask you to be my girl so I could make up fucked up excuses to fuck other bitches behind your back. I wanna be wit you. If you wanna be wit me, you best be gettin your trust issues together, cuz I ain't fittin to be goin through this shit wit you every time I tell somebody to answer my phone for me. Now what you got to say about that?”
Nicole thought Rich was incredibly sexy at the moment. She heard every word he’d said and understood. She bit her lip, trying not to turn pink from embarrassment. She lowered her head, then stood up and walked over to him with her arms outstretched. “I’m sorry.”
He glared at her for a hot minute, then his light eyes softened. He pulled her close to him. “I don’t wanna yell at you like that no more, Nik, for real.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He kissed her, then spun her around. “I thought you was getting dressed up?”
“I didn’t think you were still coming here. You surprised me.”
“Shit, you surprised me! I ain't think you was the type to be comin at me like you did.”
“I didn’t mean it, Rich. I guess I’ve been through so many changes that I’m tryna sabotage a good relationship to prove a point.”
“So then you know better about Toots, right?”
“I do now.”
He nodded, walking into her kitchen. His bad mood all but evaporated. He looked around. “You know this the first time I ever been in here, right?”
She followed him. “Yeah. I wish it was under better circumstances though.”
He pulled her closer to him. “We could make them better,” he whispered, rolling his tongue around her ear. Nicole felt herself going and she kissed his lips gently, pulling away.
“You know it’s not time for that yet.”
Rich threw his head back and groaned. “We can’t fight if we can’t have makeup sex, Nik.”
“That’s what you came here for? Makeup sex?” she asked.
“Hell yeah,” he said, dodging the blow she tried to land on his arm. He looked at his watch. “You really feel like goin out?”
She shook her head. “Not really. You wanna watch a movie or somethin?”
“Aight.” Rich went into the living room and got comfortable, hanging his coat in the closet and putting his boots in the foyer. Nicole left the kitchen, entered her bedroom briefly and returned with her hair in two pigtails. She went into the kitchen and came back with a big bowl of popcorn and two beers.
“Where’d you get that?”
“The popcorn? I keep some under the counter, in case I get the munchies. What do you wanna watch?”
“What have you got?”
“Menace II Society, Boyz in the Hood, South Central, Juice, Belly, things of that nature.”
“Put on Menace.”
When the love scene between Ronnie and Kaydee came on, she felt Rich hands sliding to her thighs. She didn’t notice it at first, but then he started kneading her leg. He lost all focus in the movie as he put a hickie on her neck, reaching down and trying to unbutton her pants. Laying her back, he climbed on top of her and kissed her passionately.
He had her jeans open when Nicole felt him pressing up through his pants. Whoa. She put her hand in his chest.
“Rich.”
“Hmm?”
“You better stop.”
“We just kissin, ma,” he whispered.
“I know, but I want you Rich.”
He groaned and kissed her neck again. She could not do this right now. “You sure, Nikki?”
“Not yet.”
“How long I gotta wait?”
“Until I’m ready.”
He could live with that, but he wasn’t sure how much longer. Rich sat up and put his arm around her, pulling her into a hug.
“You spendin the night?”
“I don’t know. You see this?” he asked, pointing downward.
Nicole covered her mouth and giggled. She put her index in his lips. “Listen. If you promise to wait for me, I promise to make it better than you’ve ever had, okay?”
He cut her a smile. “I can live with that.”Rich ended up spending the night. They shared her bed, both hot for each other in their separate corners. Nicole slid a pillow in between her legs and bit her lip as she finally drifted off to sleep. This wasn’t going to be easy for her either.

...Ain't Gold (Part Twelve)

Rich didn’t flinch as he pumped two shots into the body of the man before him. Once Toots ID'd them, it wasn't long before Rich knew who and where they were. He caught them by surprise and that quickly, he had his money back.
He was now back at his apartment, sitting in the window, looking out over Central Park. He was a regular people watcher, always had been, and he sat in his window when he needed to think. Now that he was here, he couldn't. His mind was ablaze with thought; Toots, Nicole, Cookie, Maxell, Nicole, Prage, Shadow, Money, Nicole, Nicole, Nicole...
He hadn't seen or heard from her in a week. He wondered if that meant anything. He laid a hand on his hip and, removing his phone, dialed her number.
She answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, Nik.”
"Who's this?"
"Rich."
“Rich! Hey! I was just thinking about you! How are you?”
Rich wondered about the validity of that statement before answering. “I’m fine. What happened? You wasn’t gone call me back?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I’ve been so busy for the past few of days. I had a lot of things to take care of. As a matter of fact, I just walked in the door. You’re not mad, are you?”
He softened when he heard her childlike innocence. “Nah. I could never be mad at you, ma. I was just thinkin about you, that’s all. What you doin?”
Something heavy dropped in the back. “Nothing, really. I need to relax. These past few days have kicked my ass. I've been working like a madwoman. You?”
“Same old same old. Just doin me. What your schedule look like?”
“Um, well, I don't have anything booked for the rest of the week so it looks like I'm free.”
“So you're good to go then.”
“Yes sir.” She wondered where this was going. She needed to relax and he needed to see her. “You planned on goin out tonight?”
“I might be persuaded,” she said softly. She gave him her address.
“Cool. I’ll pick you up in a half hour.”

Nicole wasn't used to the star treatment so when Rich got out and opened her car door she was skeptical. Does he think I'm crippled? she wondered. Chivalry was indeed dead with the clowns she had dated. It was a touching gesture, she had to admit. They drove in silence for a few blocks. Nicole laid her head back on his leather and breathed in his scent. She could wake up to that every day, she really could.
He stopped at a red light and leaned over to take her hand in his. “I missed you, ma. You got me whipped.”
She smiled at him. “I’m glad. I kinda missed you too.”
“Kinda? Or missed me?”
She smiled wider. “I missed you.”
The light changed and he pulled off. “Where you wanna go?”
She shrugged. “Wherever you want is fine with me.”
They drove to a small intimate restaurant in the village. Apparently, he had been planning to take her out because there were seats waiting for them when they got there. They both ordered beers while they waited. Now that they had a real chance to talk, Rich found Nicole to be incredibly open and inviting, and he had no problem talking to her. She wasn’t judgmental and took him very seriously. She’d led a very boring life though, from what she’d told him. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened to her. He remembered reading the Phantom Tollbooth in fifth grade. Welcome to the Doldrums. Where nothing ever happens and nothing ever changes.
“So you can still do the split?” he asked, biting his lip slyly.
“Yes, I can, with your nasty ass. I do a lot of yoga. It keeps my body flexible.”
Rich’s Jones jumped at the mention of her flexibility. Nicole wasnt going to deny the obvious sexual attraction, so she quickly changed the subject. She sipped her beer. “How long you been—you know?”
He frowned. “Bout six, seven years now.”
“Do you like it? I mean, wouldn’t you rather be doing something else?”
“Of course.”
Nicole wanted to know what. She was sincerely hoping Rich wasn’t just another pretty face. She saw him sit forward and clasp his hands together, leaning in to her. “I really do. I don’t wanna hustle for the rest of my life, but what can a nigga do? I can read and write. I can add and subtract. I can use million dollar words and look good in a suit. But none of that shit matters without no degree. Soon’s I get everything I want together, I’ma quit the game.”
And do what, she said to herself. “Have you ever been to school?”
Rich snorted, taking a pull of beer. “School of hard knocks.”
Their food arrived. He took that question as an invitation, then proceeded to tell her more about his life. He had never known either of his parents, only what his grandmother told him about them. His mother had OD’d on heroin and his father was killed in a gang shootout the year after. His grandmother brought him up. He had a younger brother in prison and a sister that he didn’t see as much as he’d like to. At sixteen, he started hustling to take care of the family and help with the bills. He dropped out of high school after tenth grade.
Nicole found herself strangely intrigued by his story. She was so sick of going to those stuck up parties and meeting men who only spoke the language of “trust fund” and “Harvard grad.” She wanted a man who was successful, yes, but she wanted a taste of the poison on the side. Her own story sounded exactly like what she didn’t want to become, but she knew there was nothing for her in the streets but pain, horror, and despair.
“Kids?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. You?”
“No. I want to focus on my career so I can have something to offer them.”
“And what is that?”
“The best. Stability, happiness, love, good fortune. I don't ever want my children to go without. I don't ever want them to not know the finer things in life. My life's goal has always been to have my own happy family and I'll be damned if I don't see it happen.”
“You got real high hopes, ma,” he said. He looked down and pushed his fork around on his plate. “You think you could see me in those plans somewhere?”
Nikki could distinctly see him in her plans. “If you play your cards right, maybe,” she replied.

They stayed in the restaurant talking long after the last customers had gone home. The manager had to come out and tell them they were closing up. They left and once outside, Rich took her hand in his as they walked back to the car. He had purposely parked down the block because he didn't want her to leave him just yet. He wanted to spend as much time with this goddess as possible.
They were almost there when he stopped suddenly. He looked in her eyes, his hazels glistening and dancing in the moonlight.
“You wanna be my lady, Nik?” he asked, almost shyly.
The smile on her face answered for her.

Copyright © 2005 Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.

Can You Hear Me Now? Good

I've had my phone for all of what, three weeks now? The popular question is what's your ringtone? Does it really matter?
I've found that is does. Your ringtone says a lot about you, apparently. Vibrate means you're busy and you're a professional. Simple it-comes-with-the-phone tones say you have no flavor. And the ever popular Jamsters say hey, I've got way too much time on my hands.
My mom works in a daycare center and my father works for JP Morgan Chase. Both of them have to be in a professional environment with their bosses constantly hanging over their shoulders. They have no time to be silencing a loud ringtone all day. Vibrate is a silent reminder that there is a phone on your hip.
My ringtone comes from my phone. (I've got Cingular service. Ya'll know the Latin ringtone? The one that sounds like an old Ricky Martin cut? That one.) That's all I need. It's loud enough so that I can hear it when I'm in the street and its catchy enough not to annoy anyone when it rings.
Jamster has become my new enemy. They have enabled millions of cell users to get the latest songs on their phones and harrass the rest of us with them. Who wants to be sitting in a job interview and hear "...girl, shake that Laffy Taffy..." in front of their potential boss? Furthermore who wants to hear it at all? What happened to the days of simplicity? This new stuff is foolishness. I just want the bad boy to get me my calls. I don't need nine hundred and fifty different ringtones.
Notice, none of this crap is on the house phone.

Just Popping In To Say

RIP Michael Vale 1923-2005

Vale died Saturday in New York City of complications from diabetes, according to son-in law Rick Reil.
Vale's long-running character, "Fred the Baker," for the doughnut maker's ad campaign lasted 15 years until he retired in 1997.
Canton, Mass.-based Dunkin' Donuts said in a statement that Vale's character "became a beloved American icon that permeated our culture and touched millions with his sense of humor and humble nature."
Vale was born in Brooklyn and studied acting at the Dramatic Workshop in New York City with classmates Tony Curtis, Ben Gazzara and Rod Steiger.
A veteran of the Broadway stage, film and television, Vale appeared in more than 1,300 TV commercials.

Keep in mind, to my benefactors, these are the ONLY doughnuts I will eat. Not those nasty dry ass Twin Donuts, not those fried sugar donuts from Krispy Kreme, no. Dunkin Donuts is the only doughnut franchise I support.
(And I can tell the difference too. So don't try to play me.)

Merry Christmas

I decided to get in on the fun this year and post the greatest Christmas story ever told by the most awesome author that ever lived. :)

HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS

by Dr Seuss
Every Who

Down in Who-ville

Liked Christmas a lot...
But the Grinch,

Who lived just North of Who-ville,

Did NOT!
The Grinch hated Christmas!

The whole Christmas season!

Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.

It could be that his head wasn't screwed on quite right.

It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were to tight.

But I think that the most likely reason of all

May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
But,

Whatever the reason,

His heart or his shoes,

He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the Whos,

Staring down from his cave with a sour,

Grinchy frown

At the warm lighted windows below in their town.

For he knew every Who down in Who-ville beneath

Was busy now, hanging a mistleoe wreath.
"And they're hanging their stockings!" he snarled with a sneer.

"Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!"

Then he growled, with his grinch fingers nervously drumming,

"I MUST find a way to keep Christmas from coming!"

For, tomorrow, he knew...
...All the Who girls and boys

Would wake up bright and early. They'd rush for their toys!

And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!

That's one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
Then the Whos, young and old, would sit down to a feast.

And they'd feast! And they'd feast!

And they'd FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!

They would start on Who-pudding, and rare Who-roast-beast

Which was something the Grinch couldn't stand in the least!
And THEN

They'd do something he liked least of all!

Every Who down in Who-ville, the tall and the small,

Would stand close together, with Christmas bells ringing.

They'd stand hand-in-hand. And the Whos would start singing!
They'd sing! And they'd sing!

AND they'd SING! SING! SING! SING!

And the more the Grinch thought of the Who-Christmas-Sing

The more the Grinch thought, "I must stop this whole thing!

Why for fifty-three years I've put up with it now!I MUST stop Christmas from coming!...But HOW?"
Then he got an idea!

An awful idea!

THE GRINCH GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
"I know just what to do!" The Grinch Laughed in his throat.

And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat.

And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Grinchy trick!

With this coat and this hat, I'll look just like Saint Nick!
"All I need is a reindeer..."

The Grinch looked around.

But since reindeer are scarce, there was none to be found.

Did that stop the old Grinch...?

No! The Grinch simply said,

"If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead!"

So he called his dog Max. Then he took some red thread

And he tied a big horn on top of his head.
THEN

He loaded some bags

And some old empty sacks

On a ramshakle sleigh

And he hitched up old Max.
Then the Grinch said, "Giddyap!"

And the sleigh started down

Toward the homes where the Whos

Lay a-snooze in their town.
All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air.

All the Whos were all dreaming sweet dreams without care

When he came to the first house in the square.

"This is stop number one," The old Grinchy Claus hissed

And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist.
Then he slid down the chimney. A rather tight pinch.

But if Santa could do it, then so could the Grinch.

He got stuck only once, for a moment or two.

Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue

Where the little Who stockings all hung in a row.

"These stockings," he grinned, "are the first things to go!"
Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant,

Around the whole room, and he took every present!

Pop guns! And bicycles! Roller skates! Drums!

Checkerboards! Tricycles! Popcorn! And plums!

And he stuffed them in bags. Then the Grinch, very nimbly,

Stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney!
Then he slunk to the icebox. He took the Whos' feast!

He took the Who-pudding! He took the roast beast!

He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash.

Why, that Grinch even took their last can of Who-hash!
Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee.

"And NOW!" grinned the Grinch, "I will stuff up the tree!"
And the Grinch grabbed the tree, and he started to shove

When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.

He turned around fast, and he saw a small Who!

Little Cindy-Lou Who, who was not more than two.
The Grinch had been caught by this little Who daughter

Who'd got out of bed for a cup of cold water.

She stared at the Grinch and said, "Santy Claus, why,

"Why are you taking our Christmas tree? WHY?"
But, you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick

He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!

"Why, my sweet little tot," the fake Santy Claus lied,

"There's a light on this tree that won't light on one side.

"So I'm taking it home to my workshop, my dear.

"I'll fix it up there. Then I'll bring it back here."
And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted her head

And he got her a drink and he sent he to bed.

And when Cindy-Lou Who went to bed with her cup,

HE went to the chimney and stuffed the tree up!
Then the last thing he took

Was the log for their fire.

Then he went up the chimney himself, the old liar.

On their walls he left nothing but hooks, and some wire.
And the one speck of food

That he left in the house

Was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse.
Then

He did the same thing

To the other Whos' houses
Leaving crumbs

Much too small

For the other Whos' mouses!
It was quarter past dawn...All the Whos, still a-bed

All the Whos, still a-snooze

When he packed up his sled,

Packed it up with their presents! The ribbons! The wrappings!

The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings!
Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mount Crumpit,

He rode to the tiptop to dump it!

"Pooh-pooh to the Whos!" he was grinch-ish-ly humming.

"They're finding out now that no Christmas is coming!"

They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!

"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two

"The all the Whos down in Who-ville will all cry BOO-HOO!"
"That's a noise," grinned the Grinch,

"That I simply must hear!"

So he paused. And the Grinch put a hand to his ear.

And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.

It started in low. Then it started to grow...
But the sound wasn't sad!

Why, this sound sounded merry!

It couldn't be so!

But it WAS merry! VERY!
He stared down at Who-ville!

The Grinch popped his eyes!

Then he shook!

What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every Who down in Who-ville, the tall and the small,

Was singing! Without any presents at all!

He HADN'T stopped Christmas from coming!

IT CAME!

Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow,

Stood puzzling and puzzling:

"How could it be so?

It came without ribbons! It came without tags!

"It came without packages, boxes or bags!"

And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.

Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!

"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store.

"Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"
And what happened then...?

Well...in Who-ville they say

That the Grinch's small heartGrew three sizes that day!

And the minute his heart didn't feel quite so tight,

He whizzed with his load through the bright morning light

And he brought back the toys! And the food for the feast!

And he...
...HE HIMSELF...!

The Grinch carved the roast beast!

Santa Baby

I have a number of things to ask for this year. (As you all know I carry on no love affair with this holiday but I'm going to 'get into the spirit' real quick.)

Dear Santa,
Usually this never happens, you know I've never asked you for anything. But after the crazy years its been and the fact that everyone else is asking, I'm going to throw in my requests. Please try to get as many of these down as you can. They are pertinent as far as ringing in the new year.
-Since I can't seem to do it myself, we finally need to go ahead and get Condoleeza Rice that Extreme Makeover she so desperately needs. It's going on 2006 and it just isn't fair to Madam CJ Walker that ole girl continues to look as bad as she frequently does.
-Take the psuedo careers away from the following people: anyone formerly of B2K, Jessica Alba, Sarah Jessica Parker, Webbie, Trina...fill in the blanks.
-Please inform Mr. Combs that Mr. Smalls has long since been dead. And please inform the Shakur estate that he also has long since been dead. No more posthumous albums this year, please. Just let it go.
-Ban all of those ignant black movies we've had to deal with that make us as a race look very bad. You know the ones, Soul Plane, Hair Show, The Cookout, once again fill in the blanks, I'm sure you've gotten plenty of bootleg DVD requests by now.
-You know those eighteen hundred dollar boots I've been dying for? Yeah, you could really think about hookin me up this year. Just in case you forgot the ones I'm talking about, here's a little reminder. http://www.houseofsoles.com/wecs/class/wecs.php?PHPSESSID=b52794f420f21e9003beb5b2866b6839&store=soles&action=display&target=MF-21+Egypt I'm going to figure out how to make that link smaller. You know that Just Click Here thing? Say those aren't the baddest baby's you've ever seen and I will stomp you.
-Refill my liquor cabinet. I would truly appreciate the new flavored Stoli. And of course, a brand new bottle of Johnnie Blue. You know, the one in the blue box. And Jose Cuervo. With the pretty red shot glasses my brother has at his place.
-That um...that other thing we talked about, you can hook me up there too. I'll forget all about the boots if you can do me that one.
-Please find a way for Mariah Carey to be locked away in the Chateau D'If for the rest of her miserable days. Remind folks that if they stop buying her sucky under par albums she'll stop making them.
-Send the memo to the following actors: Tom Cruise, Bruce Willis, Ahnold, and Sly Stallone...LET IT GO. None of you are twenty-five anymore. There is no need for a Mission: Impossible 3, a Die Hard 4.0, a Terminator 4, a Rocky 6 or another Rambo. You all are too damn old. Your all over forty. Tom, you're marrying your daughter. Whom Nicole Kidman was infinitely hotter than. Grow up. Bruce, you watched your hot ex-wife marry someone who could date your daughter. Grow up. Ahnold, you are a Governor now. You are responsible for running a fake state. Grow up. Sly, you are 60. More than enough reason to let it go. Grow up. You guys are killing me.
I think you and I could be real tight if you could do me a favor and get these small wishes grnated. You are Santa and you make wiushes come true right? So none of this should be too much to ask. Don't worry, if you can make good, I'll stop telling all those kids down at the day care center that you're not real.

'Twas The Night Before Christmas

By rights I should still be asleep. I didn't get to sleep until five last night. I went to the laundromat super late, that's the best time, the least immigrants. I swear, they swarm in there from like five to ten with hundreds of bags of laundry, as if they wait until the end of the minth to wash their clan's clothes. And then you have to wait fifteen years for a dryer and another fifteen for them to finish folding.
Lucky me, I got there when it was pretty empty and all I had to wait for was a dryer. Notice: ALL DARK CLOTHES CAN GO IN THE SAME DRYER!! Why are you taking up fourteen dryers for three different loads of dark clothes? Jeans are an exception, because they take a wee bit longer. But everything else can hop on in there.
Most of my laundry consisted of underwear. I think I had an two whole washers dedicated to panties. I have a vigorous panty care routine: I turn them inside out, pre soak them in soap and ammonia, put them in the washer, lil more soap, lil more ammonia, and a hell of a lot of fabric softener. They go in the dryer with two dryer sheets and I iron them when I get home. Hey, panties are just as important as shoes. They've gotta be kept up to par. (Batman, I'll be sending you the bill.)
I was on the phone with Mo for most of the night. Yes ya'll, I can talk and fold at the same time. We had a good conversatin about a varying range of topics, from the drive through daiquiri store in New Orleans...
Sidebar: As soon as I become President, I will be making New Orleans the new capital of the United States. They have a DRIVE THROUGH DAIQUIRI STORE.
...to the Apollo theater and other landmarks of Harlem. I'm going to post a map of Harlem for you all, since most of the people who respond to these posting haven't ever been here. When you see it, the whole street/avenue thing will make sense.
I'm watching the James Bond marathon on Spike. You Only Live Twice, currently. I'm waiting for Goldfinger and Diamonds are Forever and License to Kill.
Right now I'm going to eat lunch. I forgot about my Christmas list, so look for the Dear Santa later on. And Ain't Gold as well. It's been a minute.

All Hail The Queen

I listened to Mary J Blige's new album last night; The Breakthrough. Let me just say, its sixteen tracks of fire. The Queen is back in full effect. I'll be back with an album review later on.

Where's That AARP Card?

Happy belated birthday to my father. He hit the big 5-0 yesterday. Yes, keep the fogie jokes coming. I plan on getting him a pair of slippers that pass air when he walks and read Old Fart on the bottom. If that's not hilarious I don't know what is. Love you Pops.

Heavy Rotation

I've had a few albums continuously banging in my ears for the past few days, you know, the ones that keep you going? I feel like sharing.
The Who - Without a doubt one of rock's greatest bands. Right next to Aerosmith. I had this jamming in my ears and it got me through the first stretch of walk during the strike. (Which is over by the way!! We get out busses back this weekend!! Halle-motherf*cking-lujah!)
Juelz Sanatana - Technically I have to support him because he used to live a few blocks away from me and he's my homie. But I like the kid. He's got a good flow and when I turn him up real loud, the white folks move away from me on the train, therefore meaning I can enforce my at-least-ten-feet-of-personal-space law.
Jim Jones - He reps Harlem hard and I like that. I love listening to his songs and hearing about my city, my town. Seventh, Lenox and what about the East Side? Hell Barrio, we blowin smoke while we G ride. Washington Heights, dimelo tato, you know. Todo bien tato capo uh oh. I feel you bruh. I know there the Heights are, I know Lenox, I know Seventh. Rodeo Drive? Crenshaw? Who?
Amerie - I love this girl. What can I say about her. I was so happy she got the Entertainer of the Year award because she deserved it. She didn't have to pimp herself, sell out, make perfume, or anything corny or cliche. She did her thing and this album is the jumpoff. She got me through the last part of the walk. Plus, she takes away from the hip hop edge in the morning. :)
Now, I have Mary's new joint and I'm going to listen to it tonight when I'm in the laundromat. I'm going to my mama's job to cut a fool and get my tattoo tomorrow. So I'll se ya'll then.

Sex and Hip Hop

**Not to be confused with a Let's Be Real post.**

I'm not sure who all saw Cousin Jeff's Chronicles on BET the other night, but for those of you who did, let me just say (the bit that didn't repeat) was excellent. He made several valid points and interviewed a few rappers who gave insight into their lyrics and more important-their way of life.
Now the people he interviewed (Lil Scrappy, Chamillionaire, Twista and Remy Ma, the former two I don't consider real rappers) discussed why it is they think hip hop is blamed for everything from the hole in the Ozone to Watergate. As we all know when all else fails hip hop has always been and always will be the scapegoat for every problem known to mankind. Jeff mentioned that an extremely high percentage of teenagers (black and latino) will become sexually active and some, parents before their time. He showed concern that such youngsters would be exposed to the harsh reality in the sad world of STD's.
Do I think hip hop is the reason our children are having sex and making babies at such a young age? No I do not. And I will tell you why.
As was mentioned in the program, sex sells. This is a fact everyone is well aware of. From apparel to accessories to appliances, sex is used to sell every product. Children these days are exposed to more sex watching a simple TV commerical than they are spending a day in a whore house. How many kids do you know watched Sex and the City? A movie is not complete without a sex scene. And all the latest magazines are blasting those tips: How to make your man scream your name! Ten easy tips! If we're going to go after hip hop, let's go after everyone.
Now I will say this, hip hop in no way helps. With abrasive and sexually charged lyrics, plenty of kids want to reenact what they hear and see. A woman I know has a four year old who knows the words and the dances to Petey Pablo's Freek-A-Leek. Her mother enourages her whole heartedly exclaiming, "Ain't she cute?" No, honey, she's not.
Young boys are taught that the only way to be accepted and/or be considered a man is to tally up the amount of women they've had sex with. Respecting a woman? What? There are no such thing as women. There are only bitches, tricks, hoes, chickenheads, and jumpoffs. Depending on whether or not you're a player or a pimp, you decide. They only care about how fresh their outfits are, how crisp their fitted is and the latest footwear. Who cares that the most challenging thing they can read is the name of the designer.
Young women are taught that shaking their asses is to their credit. They embrace their bitch-hood, wearing it as a badge of honor. Instead of looking to better themselves, they watch the girls in the videos and say hey, if she can get a man like that, so can I. They depend on a man to take care of them and as long as she sexes him just right, she can keep him.
The parents are also to blame. When I was coming up (which wasn't all that long ago) my mother heavily censored what we did and did not watch and what we did and did not listen to. We only watched videos on the weekeneds and that was for an hour. We didn't watch BET during the week and there was no rap when we did homework. We knew how to pick up a book in a hurry. Things aren't like that anymore. These days parents dance with their children and they talk to them the same way rappers do. As long as the kids are out of their hair, they have nothing to say.
Gone are the days when parents asked their kids about school, knew who their friends were and all the neighborhood mothers were friends. Now its every man for himself.
Don't blame hip hop. This was not what the founding fathers had in mind. Kool Mo Dee and Dougie Fresh and Slick Rick. Hip hop is no longer about the struggle, or breaking out, or freestyling in the park, breakdancing on a piece of cardboard. Now its about pimpin, makin money and my favorite, I got that snow, man. Blame the big time companies whose job is no longer to look for real talent, but to look for money makers. Tony Yayo? I don't love hoes. I'm pimpin em. Yep, sure your mama loves to hear that. Bun B? Webbie? Girl give me that. Bad bitch. Oh yes, those are powerful lyrics my brother. Thanks for supporting the struggle. Lil Flip? D4L? When I first heard Laffy Taffy, I shook my head. The only thought running through my mind was Man I wish 'Pac was still alive.

Just Popping In To Say

RIP to Tony Dungy's son, James Dungy. 1987-2005.
Makes me sad to know he's so young. 18 is way too young to be dead.

Strike One

So the MTA went on strike this morning.
How f*cking wonderful. Instead of hopping on the early 1 line, I was sitting in my living room wondering how long I was going to be stranded uptown. I live damn near a hundred and forty blocks from my job and walking was not an option this morning. Tomorrow, I'll be strapping on my kicks and getting comfy with the pavement. I can't afford to miss a pay day. Mama's gotta make that paper.
I find this the most selfish move ever made. Literally millions of people forced to deviate from the norm because ya'll want a little more money in the bank? Please! What abou the rest of us? Those of us who get fired if we don't show up? So once again, the straphangers get the short end of the stick. The same as last year when they raised the fares. Bullsh*t. They have a 900 million dollar surplus and they can't pay the damn people? Get the hell out of here.
What's more, is that they're acting like they're the only people who have to deal with crap at their jobs. You don't see the people at McDonald's wildin out and they take more crap than anyone. I'm sick of living here sometimes, I swear.
This is exactly why I need a car.

Raindrops On Roses

This was fun. The other night Batman (in an attempt to fry my synapses) and I shot back and forth a few of our favorite things. Now that I've had time to sit down and compile a list, I'm going to share it with you lovely people.
favorite food: pizza and shrimp
favorite teachers: Mr. Johnson (fifth grade. He taught us how to make gingerbread houses and balance checkbooks. He was freakin awesome.)
favorite board games: Life, Monopoly, Clue
favorite movie: The Usual Suspects
favorite TV series: Will and Grace (or Ned and Stacey, I loved that show.)
favorite cartoon: Josie and the Pussycats back in the day, now its Family Guy...
favorite perfume: the purple Curve (I forgot the name, I just know it smells dope)
favorite song: Bill Withers, "Lovely Day"
favorite color: red
favorite book: The Phantom Tollbooth
favorite season: winter
favorite flavor of ice cream: vanilla
favorite soda: Coke
favorite drink: surprisngly, its not Johnnie Walker. It's actually Hpnotiq. Funny huh?
favorite flower: tiger lily
favorite animal: the Hyacinth (also what I want to name my daughter, I love that name)
favorite actor/tress: Kevin Spacey/Julia Roberts
favorite musical: Chicago
favorite city: Paris
favorite car: *sigh* an off white Cadillac CTS (my dream. when I'm parking that baby in front of my brownstone and opening the door to my brownstone, I know I'll have made it)
favorite shoes: well, a lady should have three men in her life, her husband, her boyfriend and her lover. (Manolo Blahnik, Salvatore Ferragamo and Jimmy Choo, respectively)
favorite pastime: reading (I can go through books like a sick man goes through Kleenex)
favorite weather: rain. or snow. Whichever is heavier.
favorite movie genre: murder mystery. That goes for books too, as a matter of fact.
That's all I can think of at the moment. I need to hurry up and get my post game together because I'm supposed to be throwing a hundredth post party of New Year's Eve. That means I'll need to double up. Wish me luck. Wink.

History Lesson

Abraham Lincoln was elected to Congress in 1846.
John F. Kennedy was elected to Congress in 1946.
Abraham Lincoln was elected President in 1860.
John F. Kennedy was elected President in 1960.
Both were particularly concerned with civil rights.
Both wives lost their children while living in the White House.
Both Presidents were shot on a Friday.
Both Presidents were shot in the head.
**Now it gets really weird**
Lincoln 's secretary was named Kennedy.
Kennedy's secretary was named Lincoln.
Both were assassinated by Southerners.
Both were succeeded by Southerners named Johnson.
Andrew Johnson, who succeeded Lincoln, was born in 1808.
Lyndon Johnson, who succeeded Kennedy, was born in 1908.
John Wilkes Booth, who assassinated Lincoln, was born in 1839.
Lee Harvey Oswald, who assassinated Kennedy, was born in 1939.
Both assassins were known by their three names.
Both names are composed of fifteen letters.
**Now hang on to your seat**
Lincoln was shot at the theater named 'Ford.'
Kennedy was shot in a car called 'Lincoln' made by 'Ford'
Lincoln was shot in a theater and his assassin ran and hid in a warehouse.
Kennedy was shot from a warehouse and his assassin ran and hid in a theater.
Booth and Oswald were assassinated before their trials.
**And here's the kicker...**
A week before Lincoln was shot, he was in Monroe, Maryland
A week before Kennedy was shot, he was with Marilyn Monroe.

Coincidence?

Miscellaneous Thoughts: Catching Up

My phone hasn't stopped ringing since the five minutes after I truned it on. WTF? I felt like a publicist; "Hello? Hold on. Hello? Hold on. Hello? Yeah? Hold on." Did I make a mistake?

I'm not in the mood to talk about my date. Or lack thereof. All I will say is that men suck ass.

I've decided I can go shoe shopping and buy Keyshia Cole's album. I get paid tomorrow and Best Buy is right across the street of Steve Madden. And Victoria's Secret.

Okay so maybe I have been hatin on Jeezy a lil bit. I happen to like his new song, Go Crazy. As long as he doesn't get down with the grillz clique or start collab'ing with Lil Jon we can stay cool. One question, when is he going to get rid of that kindergarten Snowman art he's been peddling to the hood?

Ultimate Hustler has a new winner. Um, hit me up if you know who he is...I didn't bother to watch it, mainly because the sight and sound of Damon Dash turns my stomach. Umbrella my ass. He's been riding Jay's coattails for years. He probably would know a thing or two about hustling, hustling change for the bus maybe...

Has anyone seen Fabolous? He came out with Breathe and that was it. Is he on hiatus? Sick? In the studio? PrincessCandyRain, hit me up with an update please.

Why is Biggie coming out with a duets album? Why can't we just let sleeping dogs lie? Must we beat a dead horse? Just let it go, damn! I turned on Black Exploitation...I mean Entertainment...Television the other day and saw the video for a song just released. I don't even know what it was about or who was in it, I was so shocked that they were being serious. I turned the TV off after that, I was too pissed.

Today has not been my day and if I feel like it, I'll post again later.

Just Popping In To Say

RIP John Spencer 1946-2005

For those of us who watch The West Wing, this is one hell of a loss. Homie played the sh*t out of his role; chief of staff. I was shocked as I don't know what when I got home and this popped up on the screen. Sigh.

Real Quick

Loads of posts to do tonight.
-My phone is on so you can stop beastin, sis.
-To Shoot or No To Shoot? Pool, that is.
-Should I buy Keyshia Cole's album or go shoe shopping?
-A Young Jeezy Breakdown (Don't worry, I ain't hatin on a brotha.)
-How Much Do You Tell Your Friends and How Much of it is The Truth? (I'll explain.)
-This came up in a conversation I had with my sister via phone early this morning: would you go to a close friend's wedding if you'd fallen in love with them? I'm going to give it to you how we had it, no paraphrasing.
-Does anybody watch Ultimate Hustler? Because I don't. We all know why, if not, I'll explain.
-Has anyone seen Fabolous?
-Why is Biggie coming out with a duets album? I guess they figured if they start now they can catch up to Pac by next summer.
For real, I'm about to be crazy late so let me get out of here. That's what to expect later.

And When I Get That Feeling...

*Warning: TMI*

I could really use a long hot session right about now. Get the kinks out of my back. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about becasue you do. I ran into an old friend of mine the other day and let's just say...Old feelings die hard.
Changing the subject, my Johnnie is one bad day at work away from being finished. I need it. Bad. I could have used one today. Instead I nursed my sorrows (well, not exactly sorrows) in a bottle of ice cold ginger beer.

I just had a violent mood swing. I think those will be over by the end of the week after I've handled my business. I'll be back when I have something to calm me down.

BTW, NaSheila, Brickhouse was the baddest book I've read in a minute. I definitely recommend it. Had me this close to tears at the end. And you know how I feel about emotion so that's a big deal for me.

Oh and before I go, thank you Pepsi, for pointing out a mistake I made with yesterday's post.
I left out a state:
Virginia: My Aunt Pat lives down there, in PG County or something like that. Great vacations. Definitely a real state.

Red States/Blue States, My Version

It sends a chill up and down my spine sometimes to think that some of the lame ass states in this country actually made it into the final cut. Some time ago I made my won list of The Real States. I have dreamed of becoming President for the lone purpose of reconfiguring the map. So at Monica's request and based solely on my own opinion, I will, in alphabetical order, desribe how the new United States should look (Red=no, blue=yes):
Alabama: Not a real state. At the risk of being set ablaze by the remaining members of the Klan I will refrain from saying why.
Alaska: Not a real state. The simple fact that this psuedostate doesn't even touch America should scream volumes, people.
Arizona: Not a real state.
Arkansas: Is it Arkansas or Arkansaw? Make up your minds, folks. Not a real state.
California: I could go into detail, but I will say this. Since no one over there eats anything, we're going to take it back to slave days and assume they are all 2/3 of a person. Which makes them not a real state. (Hopefully one of these days they'll finally finish burning down and stop wasting precious media time.)
Colorado: Need I say more? Not a real state.
Connecticut: Not big enough to be a real state.
Delaware: Torn. Will be back later.
Florida: Only because my aunt lives there does this state qualify as a real state. So thank her for saving you.
Georgia: Also saved because I have family there. And because they can cook. But if it were up to crunk music and the whole Dirty South movement? Their ass would be grass.
Hawaii: See Alaska.
Idaho: Hell yeah this is a real state. The crank out potatos, a must have in the famous steak and potato with mushroom sauce dish I so love to make.
Illinois: Does anybody really realize that when they say they're from Chicago they're saying they're from Illinois? I think not. Not a real state.
Indiana: Only reason anyone knows anything about this state is because the Jackson's made it famous. Not a real state.
Iowa: What's in Iowa again?
Kansas: You're not here anymore Dorothy.
Kentucky: But for Colonel Sanders...Not a real state.
Louisiana: Also a hell yes. Home of New Orleans (and Mo, wink!) They have a whole street dedicated to Bourbon. They are Gods.
Maine: Of course. Two words; Lob-ster.
Maryland: Um, no.
Masschusetts: Being that I may hate Bostonians more than I hate those from Jersey, this is not a state.
Michigan: Riiiight...
Minnesota: See Iowa.
Mississippi: Quite possibly the most racist state in the country, closely followed by 'Bama. So, no.
Missouri: See Iowa.
Montana: Whose idea was this? There is nothing left out there but bad Kevin Coster movies. Big Sky Country? When there are more clouds than people, you know you're not a real state. Do they even have roads?
Nebraska: See Iowa.
Nevada: There is nothing to do here but gamble. Since I am firmly against gambling, this state also gets the axe.
New Hampshire: When all your area codes are the same for the entire state...you are not a real state. (Alaska, Delaware, Hawaii, Montana, etc...)
***New Jersey: As soon as I become President, the bridge is being blown up and those yellow bellied wannabe bastards will be out there to fend for themselves like the rabid dogs they are. Definitely not a real state.
New Mexico: See New Hampshire. There was nothing wrong with Old Mexico. Putting a New Mexico is the same thing as inviting every immigrant right on over the border. Out with the Old, in with the New!
New York: My city, my town, my hood.Whatever you want to call it, just don't hate. No state can touch New York. They've tried, but we remain often imitated, never duplicated. Fo sho a real state.
North Carolina: Umm...
North Dakota: Umm...
Ohio: Not a real state.
Oklahoma: See Montana.
Oregon: See Montana.
Pennsylvania: I know I would have my ass whipped brutally if I mentioned anything foul about this state. Big Big ups to Harrisburg (VisualEyes, PrincessCandyRain and MistaKnockBoots), Pittsburgh (Drammaqueen86 and whatitdo) and of course, the mighty Killadelph, the City of Brotherly Love (you know who you are, xo)
Rhode Island: Also not large enough to be a real state. Their greeting signs say "You are now entering and leaving Rhode Island. Population: the passengers in your car."
South Carolina: See North Carolina.
South Dakota: See North Dakota.
Tennessee : Eightball, MJG and Three Six Mafia are far more than a good enough reason for this not to be a real state.
Texas: There are no paved roads in Texas. Don't worry, I checked.
Utah: Not a real state.
Vermont: Nice vacation spot, but not a real state.
Washington: Besides Seattle which I love because it rains so damn much, not a real state.
West Virgina: An aunt of mine lives down there. And something else, I'll remember later.
Wisconsin: That's where we get out cheese, apparently. So they're quite important.
Wyoming: See Iowa.
And there you have it. If you see your state and have questions or commetnts, feel free to hit me up. I would love to explain this to the fullest.

Checking Up On Me

Monae, this is the poem I was telling you about. I wrote it a few months ago, messing around at like three in the morning. Tell me what you think.

Keep Out Of Reach Of Children
Sh*t, I'll jump your bones
in a heartbeat
I'll take you right there where you stand
Don't ask, demand
Tell me how you like it
Whole lotta foreplay?
Yeah we can get it started
You know,
A you on top,
me on the bottom type of party
I can handle it
Can you?
You can go all night?
Me too
And tomorrow morning when we're through
And I'm up making coffee for you
You can tell me all those other things
I like to hear
Baby you so fine
You make me wanna cry
Say all that and look me straight in the eye
Kitchen counter
hall table
broom closet
I don't care how you get there
just get there if you can
Remind me why you're my man
Make my eyes roll back
Make me curl my toes
I wanna smell us in the sheets
Baby, the nose knows
Shut all the windows
Lock all the doors
Do it like you love me
Cuz tonight, honey,
I'm yours

Copyright © JackithaRippa 2005

Anyway, Jets won today, 26-10. My husband, Curtis Martin, is going out for knee surgery, ending his season. Sigh, pray for him. We're legally married, I'm just not sure he knows it yet. Lordie that man is some kinda fine. Mm.
Moving on...
Hi Mo. I read your email, I'm glad I made you laugh cuz I was pissed as hell shopping in there. I mean to get on last night and fell asleep crazy early. I watched a good ten minutes of SNL and was knocked out. Good episode too, Alec Baldwin. He always cracks me up when he comes on.
Bought a book the other day; Brickhouse by Rita Ewing. If I'm not mistaken that's the former Mrs. Patrick Ewing. (VisualEyes, you keep up with all that basketball crap so you let me know for sure.) It's good so far, I dig her writing style. Listened to the Jim Jones album back to front. I heard it earlier this summer, but kind of forgot what it sounded like so I bought it. Its good. Well, I think its good. And that's all that really matters isn't it?
As you can probably tell from the sour mood of this post I'm in a blue funk. Not a heavy one, I just need a sugar rush to boost my spirits.
Oh damn. My Johnnie's on its last leg. I'll be posting my Christmas list later...You're smiling already aren't you? :)

Just Popping In To Say

RIP Richard Pryor 1940-2005
We have truly lost a genius.

Also, while I'm here, RIP Lt. Ferdinand Alcindor (father of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar)

Let's Be Real

I know I've been slacking with the Let's Be Real posts. I missed a week. But I'm more than sure that this weeks post should more than make up for it.
@ Randall, I understand you are an officer of the law. But the following is how I feel.

Today's Topic: Suicide by Cop Or Murder?
If you live in New York, the name Ousmane Zongo rings one hell of a bell. An African immigrant murdered after a heated confrontation with police in a warehouse on May 23, 2003. As of yesterday, ex-cop Brian Conroy is found not guilty. Sound familiar?
Hmm. Let's jog that memory.
In February 1999, four New York City policemen searching for a rape suspect knocked on Amadou Diallo's door to question him. When he came to the door he reached inside his jacket, at which point the officers shot at him 41 times, hitting him with 19 bullets. The object Diallo was reaching for turned out to be his wallet.
But wait, there's more...
In 1997, Abner Louima was brutalized by four police officers with a broomstick. Volpe was imprisoned, the others were not. When is this tidal wave of unneccessary violence against our black men going to end? The list could go on for days.
Flip side of the game: When police officers are murdered in the line of duty, they are given full twenty one gun salutes, decorations, promotions, and are labeled heroes. My personal views? No police officer is a hero. After years of seeing how my people are treated in the neighborhood I live in, I am convinced that if you want to see a dirty cop, look in any precinct in New York.
Officer Dillon Stewart was killed recently after a bullet missed his Kevlar and entered his shoulder, hitting an artery and killing him. The loss must be devastating for his wife and young child I'm sure. But I cannot say I'm sorry. What you hear on the news is just what they report. Everyone knows someone who has been killed by a cop. Those men are cowards and murderers in a uniform. When they shoot to kill, its usually a misunderstanding, an accident or my personal favorite, suicide by cop. Hero? Please. Give me a break.
All this shoot 'em um garbage is a cover for something that happened not fifty years ago: lynching. Bullets are now the ropes that hung strange fruit from the sycamore trees. They are picking our men off like flies and there is nothing being doen about it. Why are gay marriges getting more covergae than police brutality? Goes to show how messed up this country really is. Where are the Cheerleader and Spokesperson for the Oppressed Black Man? Oh, my bad. Sharpton is running around trying to support the TWU so they won't go on strike. Does it matter? He's got people driving his ass back and forth to his events. Oooh, black people make me sick. Jesse is MIA as usual.
I'm about to go rant and rave to my girlfriends because this is just ridiculous. Feel free to hit me up with opinions, which will be posted next week.