Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Just Popping In To Say...

RIP Coretta Scott King 1927-2006
Today is clearly a day of mourning for me and my peoples. Out of nothing but respect, this will be my single post for the day.
Mrs. King passed in her sleep last night, the news says. She never fully rcovered from her stroke and heart attack sometime last year. She was 78.

Monday, January 30, 2006

Miscellaneous Thoughts

-RubbabandMan sincerely thanks everyone for the cards, teddy bears, candies, panties and other heartfelt gifts that he received while in the hospital. I am happy to say he is back to normal and as he likes to say, "Pimpin' as usual."
-How is my writing going? Um, well let's say this, not so great. I'm working on three different novels at once, the first not going so well, the second going great and the third completed and in the editing process. Besides the plethora of posts I put up today to make up for a dry weekend I'm not getting much done as far as novel writing goes. Lots of lost motivation, you know? I'm not getting into the whiterto's and the whyfor's so don't ask.
-My mother got her wedding gown the other day. Looks good. That's all I'm going to say about that for right now for fear that the deep depression I was in up until recently will return. I will say this, when I said I swore off men forever I was serious. That is no longer a road I wish to pursue. (And no, sexybxnigga, that does not make me a dyke. It just makes me SBC, you dumb ass. I don't eat snapper. I don't even like fish.)
-Yes, Janedda, thank you for noticing that I have slacked off with my frequent Batman references. I don't know when's the last time he read the blog so saying his name would be quite redundant. I'll ask him.
-Speaking of, the tattoo is all healed up quite nice, thanks.
-OhhhhKKK before I leave, I need ya'll to do me a favor, um, if anyone of you fly fresh to death mofo's knows anything about high fashion, let me know. I'm going to need a real good looking fedora for the wedding. Those of you that live close by, drop on by and see the shoes that match. I've been lookin, and lookin, and if you think I'll be caught dead wearing a Roc-A-Fella fedora to a wedding I'm going to hurt you.

You Can't Be Serious

In Dumb Fuck News...

Cambridge, England - A museum visitor shattered three Qing dynasty Chinese vases when he tripped on his shoelace, stumbled down a stairway and brought the vases crashing to the floor, officials said Monday.
The three vases, dating from the late 17th or early 18th century, had been donated to the Fitzwilliam Museum in the university city of Cambridge in 1948, and were among its best-known artifacts. They had been sitting proudly on the window sill beside the staircase for 40 years.
"It was a most unfortunate and regrettable accident, but we are glad that the visitor involved was able to leave the museum unharmed," said Duncan Robinson, the Fitzwilliam's director.
The museum declined to identify the man who had tripped on a loose shoelace Wednesday.
Asked about the porcelain vases, Margaret Greeves, the museum's assistant director, said: "They are in very, very small pieces, but we are determined to put them back together."
The museum declined to say what the vases were worth.

That's because someone is having a royal Qing Dynasty heart attack right about now.

Hoe Sit Down of The Week Award

Kanye West. I fell out of love with him long ago. More reason than one, and too many reasons to get into at the moment. He said, and I quote, "I'm making good music, and it's interesting and changing the world and everything, so you put me on the cover. I appreciate it. I don't want to come off, like, ungracious, but I feel like I had to fight to get on these covers."

First of all are those even sentences? I hate it when people open their mouths and sound damn fools. (See Trina's career.) The boy is too damn cocky for my tastes. There is confident and then there is "Hey, look at me bend over and suck my own dick!" (See Usher.)

Another thing I find wrong with this picture is the pure irreverance. How dare you compare yourself to Jesus Christ? Who the blue f*ck do you think you are? You have no right and futhermore ain't none of your struggles will ever compare. So Hoe, Sit on Down.

(Oh and to the folks who were wondering exactly what Mr. Smith said in reply to Bow Wow, the response is as follows: "A grown man don't answer to no child. I'm a grown ass man. I cut records before his momma let somebody cut to have him...My worst movie (Wild Wild West) grossed almost twice as much as your best movie (Like Mike). Check the records and read a book young man." Schoolyard instigation in five..four...three...two...Ohhhh sh*t!)

...Ain't Gold (Part Twenty-Two)

Nicole smiled as she closed her day planner and pushed her Rolodex back into place. Yet another successful party was over with. She added another happy client to her ever growing list. Nicole giggled and smiled again as she lifted the check to her nose and breathed deep. There was nothing better than the taste of her own money.
She worked hard to get where she was. She graduated college, got her loan from the bank and within a year paid it off and now here she was, making her own money. She was young and rich and life couldn't be better. The word rich made her think of the name "Rich" and her mood elevated even higher.
Now that they were living together Nicole had to no longer wonder when she would see her man. She looked at her watch and remembered there were a few things to pick up from ehr old apartment before she went home. When Mookie and Smash moved her things to Rich's place, they only brought her clothing. Between working and tending to Rich, she had neglected her own apartment. She had to keep making return trips to pick up forgotten belongings. Almost a month had passed since his accident and Rich was healing quickly, thanks to her watchful eye.
Nicole cruised through the early evening traffic with one hand on the wheel, the other helping herself to leftovers Munchkins from Dunkin Donuts. There were groceries besides and she wanted to get her things as quickly as possible so she could get home and make dinner. She parked outside her old building, grabbing her purse and click-clacking up the stairs leading to the front door. She was checking her mailbox when two men brushed past her.Nikki sucked her teeth at their rudeness, slamming the mailbox shut and walking towards her elevator.

She pressed four and looked down at her mail. Publisher's Clearing House, Verizon, an Essence Magazine, an old high school friend, and a few other obscure pieces thatwere of no interest to her. The elevator came to a stop and she stepped off, still tearing open one of the envelopes. Her heels clicked and echoed as she went for her apartment keys. She dropped them on the floor and cursed as the mail followed. Reaching down to pick them up Nicole came face to face with a pair of black boots. Looking up, Nicole saw two ski masked men standing over her. One of them roughly pulled her to her feet, the other man grabbing her purse.
“Where is he?” the man growled.
Nicole shrank away from him in fear. “What are you talking about?”

"You know what the fuck I'm talkin bout. You tell me where he is."
She thought about screaming, but then he grabbed her throat so tight she couldn’t breathe.
“Lying bitch. We gone find him and then? Then we gone come get you for lyin. Where is he?”
“Who? I don’t know…who you’re talking about.” The other man was digging frantically through her mail.

He was choking her. One hand around her throat, he lifted her up against the wall. Nicole kicked her legs out, trying to stop this from happening. One hand clawed at the man's face, the other at the hand gripping her neck. The more she struggled the harder it was to breath.
“Please!" she whispered. "Please! I-can’t-breathe!” She didn't know what was going on behind his cold dark eyes but at last he threw her to the floor.
Nicole hit the floor hard and winced as pain shot through her arm. She was afraid they were going to kill her if she made a noise. “Get away from me!” she whispered, a hand trying to protect her bruised throat.
The man that had been digging in her bag shoved something in her face. Nicole reared awya from him in fear. He smiled at her, eyes glimmering. It was her State ID. He waved it in front of her. “I know where you live,” he whispered in a singsong voice. “And I know where you work.” He never gave her back her purse. They left her there terrified.

Nicole couldn't move for the next five minutes, she just held her hurt arm to her chest and tried to will herself of the floor. Shuddering and whimpering like an abandoned puppy, she was too afraid to even cry. She knew better than to call Rich, she didn’t want to put him in any danger. So she went to the next best place.

Chuchi made Nikki lay down and gave her a cold compress to put on her neck. “You sure you didn’t see they faces?”
Nicole shook her head. She held the ice to her bruised neck, wishing this were all a dream. The ice pack kept slipping from her hands because she was shaking so hard. Chuchi sat next to her on the sofa, stroking Nicole's hair. “You gone tell Rich?”
“I-do-I don’t know. If I call him, I know-I know they're going to find out. Th-th-they said th-th-they would kill me. And him.”
Chuchi was angry with her friend, angry for making this choice. She’d met Rich. She liked him sure, but Nicole was so much better than this life. She could have any man she wanted and she kept choosing the ones who got her in trouble. Nicole was smart and talented and beautiful, but she was so naïve. She fell for anyone with a nice smile and a nice bank.
“He don’t got no friends that could call him for you?”

Nicole’s mind came to rest on Toots. “He-he's got a girl friend. You think I should call her?”
Chuchi nodded. “But not from here. Come on. It’s a pay phone outside.”
Toots answered on the second ring. “Hello.”
“Hey Toots? It’s Nicole.”
“Hey shorty. Where you at? Rich lookin for you.”
Nicole took a deep breath. “Toots, I got robbed.”
“What? What happened?”
Nicole told her what happened, nearly bursting into tears at the end. Toots was silent on the other end of the phone. She was making four mental calculations at once. Whoever robbed her was undoubtedly watching her. If she returned home, she could be attacked again, maybe raped and murdered. If she went to Rich’s place, they’d follow her there and kill them both. Yet, if Toots came and got her, she could take them over to Mookie’s and go see Rich from there. That sounded as good a plan as any.
“I be there in twenty minutes,” Toots replied. She placed a call to Mookie and within the hour, Nicole was changed and on her way to Mookie’s apartment. Chuchi called Rich and told him what happened. He was in his car and out the door before Chuchi finished the sentence.
When Rich banged on the door, he gave Toot’s one look and she nodded her head to the back. Nicole jumped into his arms when she saw him, crying again. He winced in pain, but didn't say anything. Letting her down, he stormed into the living room.

“Somebody tell me somthin,” he said.
Chuchi was on the edge of the sofa, snapping gum. She was terrified on the inside, but stayed strong for her friend’s sake. “She came straight to my house after. You gotta ask her.” He turned and sat Nikki down on the couch. “What happened?”
Nicole started gently shaking again and Mookie got up to make her a drink. She accepted it gratefully, hoping the burning scotch would calm her nerves. The ice clinked against the sides of the glass as her hands quivered. “I-I was getting my mail and they went past me in the building. I got on the elevator-and-and when I got off, I dropped my keys and they were there.”
“Did you see their faces?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. They had on ski masks.”
Rich thought, I get mine the fast way, ski mask way. “Go head. What happened after that?”
“Then he choked me and…”
“He choked you?” Rich lifted her neck and saw the imprint of a hand. He clenched his teeth down to keep from getting up and murdering everybody on the East Coast just on GP.
“He kept asking about you, I think.”
“What he say?”
“He just said where is he, where is he? Then he called me a lyin bitch and said they would find you and come back for me for lying. The other one took my purse and he said I know where you live. And then-and then they left.” The ice clinked in her glass again.
Toots was in deep thought. Nicole had left out the part about the ski masks when she told her over the phone. “Nik, could you see his eyes? When he choked you, what he looked like?”
Nicole thought about it. “He looked angry. His eyes were brown. He had angry eyes. That’s all I remember.”
Toots stood up and flashed her own eyes at Rich. He followed her into the kitchen. “What?”
She lit a cigarette and ran the water under a glass. “That’s the same niggas that robbed me and Smash.”
“Ain't no way them nig-”
Toots silenced him with a shot from her eyes. “I know what the fuck she’s talkin about. That nigga shoved a gun in my face and took the money. He had them same eyes she was talkin about. If that nigga Stretch ain't do this, I don’t know who did.”
Rich trusted Toots. “You really think you right?”
“I know I’m right.” She pulled hard on the cigarette. They returned to the group.
“Nikki, what’s in your bag?”
Nicole thought about it. “My wallet, a couple credit cards, and a few dollars. They took my ID.” All items with addresses on them. They knew where she lived. And that was a problem. She could never go back.
“You gotta shut off all your credit cards. You can’t go back home. And you can’t go to work.”
Nicole pulled the ice pack away from her forehead and sat up. “What am I supposed to do? I’m supposed to just sit in a box somewhere and hope they don’t find me?” she shouted hysterically. Chuchi, Mookie and Toots silently left the room. Nicoel stood up. “They said they would kill me, Rich! They said they would kill you! I can’t go anywhere! What am I supposed to do?” She collapsed against him. Rich pulled away from her ever so slightly as she rubbed against one of his wounds. The pain of hearing her tears hurt worse than his side.

“Baby, let me handle this. You let me take care of this.”

2006 © Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.

Friday, January 27, 2006

It's A Celebration Bitches!

So I ventured tonight...and I tried something new. I had a Cosmopolitan. Gasp! As my fellow Johnnie fans know, it is a sin punishable by death to drink anything but the King on a Friday night, but as I passed the liquor store the Absolut was calling my name. So I answered that call. I happened to have some cosmo drink mix laying around and that's all she wrote.
Let me be the first to tell you that this is one of the most delicious things I have ever wrapped my lips around. I'm not one of those people that loves every type of drink. Just the ones with the word proof after them. (Ba-zaam! I'm here til Thursday folks, tip your waitress.) No, but seriously, all Miranda/Carrie/Samantha/Charlotte jokes aside, this drink is the shit! I am so twisted right now! So to my benefactors, if we ever meet up at tha spot, please feel free to buy me either a Johnnie with a maraschino cherry, or a Cosmo.
Now I am going to lay down because I should be writing because if I lay down now I can get in a few minutes sleep before Batman wakes me up and starts telling me how I should be writing and then we'll get into a fight and be on the phone all night and then I'll never get any work done.
So cheers.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Stand Up Award

Our Stand Up Award this round goes to none other than Will "King of the Summer" Smith. If you recall, our Hoe Sit Down Award was recently bestowed upon Sir Bow Wow. He remarked "There are no real rappers out there besides me...Kanye...maybe Jay...I never considered Will Smith to be a real rapper...He is a bubblegum rapper." Wow.
When asked what he thought about Bow Wow's statement in a recent interview, Smith remarked, "A grown ass man don't answer to no child." There was more after that but I didn't catch for laughing so damn hard.
But really, let's think about it. Will Smith is making more paper than Bow Wow would ever hope to see. He was making the money Bow Wow makes now back when he was the Fresh Prince. What's more, the only people that buy a Bow Wow album or go to his concerts are chicks. And their reluctant mothers and boyfriends. You best just keep your shut kiddo before you open a can of somethin you can't handle.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

...Ain't Gold (Part Twenty-One)

Nicole opened her eyes and blinked the fog away. There was a soft light, and two unrecognizable shapes over her. Blinking again the faces became clear. Toots and Mookie. The events of the evening began to swirl in her mind. She sat up. “Rich! Richard! Where is he?” she shouted.
“Calm down, Nicole. He’s not here. Calm down.”
But Nicole wouldn’t calm down. When she heard Toots say that, she assumed he was dead. She climbed out of the bed, her sleeping legs giving out, and crashed to the floor. Mookie reached out hsi arms and helped her to a chair. Having had been so frantic when they arrived at the hospital, the doctors thought it best to give her a sedative. “Where is he?” she asked, tears flowing from her eyes.
“He’s across the hall.”
Nicole wrenched herself from Mookie’s grip and flew across the hall. Rich was in a bed under a white blanket, tubes running out of his body. She ran her hands over his cheeks, then grabbed his hand. He didn't respond and the tears only fell harder. What had they done to him? And who had done it? And why? She squeezed his hand again and cried out his name.

Rich blinked, then opened his eyes and focused on her. A smile formed on his tired face. “Hey Nik,” he whispered around the tube in his throat.
Tears of relief replaced tears of fear as she sank into the chair next to his bed. “Are you okay? Does it-Where does it hurt? Baby, I’m so sorry.”
He swallowed painfully. “It’s not your fault, Nik. I'm fine. Could use some haze though.”
She managed to laugh through her tears. “I love you so much, Rich.”
He squeezed her hand back. “Don’t leave me alone, Nik.”

It tuned out that Rich would recover just fine. The doctors removed the two bullets that hit him and reset the rib that had been broken. The doctors called him Lucky. Any higher and he woul have been dead for sure. The events changed Rich’s mind about the game. He knew he had to get out and he knew he had to do it soon. He had almost lost his life and put his future wife in danger. Someone had to pay.
Shortly after Rich had been released from the hospital and Nicole had handled her pertinent business matters, she went to visit her mother, hoping to draw some comfort from her. She was wrong.
“When you are you goinge to quit? When you get shot too?”
“I didn’t get shot, ma. My man got shot.”
Cora put both hands on her hips. “What makes you think it couldn't have been you?”
“He could’ve died and all you can do is shout at me?”
“Oh don't give me that. It just as easily could have been you. When are you going get it, Nicole? When will you realize these men don’t give a shit about you?”
Nicole never shouted at her mother, so this fight as new to her. “Rich loves me, mama!”
Cora turned her back and walked into the living room. “Please, Nicole. If he loved you, he wouldn’t have put your life in danger. He’d be a real man and make sure you were nowhere near that kind of life.” Nicole followed her.
“He asked me to marry him, mama.”
“I said Richard asked me to marry him.”
Her mother folded her arms and leaned back on the sofa. “I see. And what did you say?”
“I said yes.”
“So you're content to live that life? Ducking and dodging bullets?”
“If he knew that was gong to happen, he would never have brought me out!”
Cora got in her child's face. She never liked to scream at her children but she would not stand by and watch her daughter kill her life. She had taken too long to get herslef together and she was ripping it down brick by brick. “That boy doesn’t care about you Nicole. He cares about what he can get from you. And that’s all.” That stabbed Nicole in her heart because she knew it wasn’t true.
“He loves me, ma. Which is more than I can say for you right now.” Cora felt the door slam deep in her bones, down to her soul. She was very afraid for her daughter.

Nicole's tears had not dried in the hour it took her to get home. When she unlcoked their door, Rich was alseep, on the couch, stretched out on his back. She made his bed, took out the trash and started dinner. She was chopping onions, still pissed when he woke up.
Rich came over to the peek hole in the kitchen. He could see tears on her face, but they couldn’t possibly have been from the onions. “What’s the matter?”
She jumped. “Hey, what are you doing up?”
He came around and leaned against the counter, kissing her forehead. “I felt like walkin around. When you got here?”
“Bout an hour ago.” She stopped chopping and ran a paper towel under the sink, wiping her face.
“What’s the matter?”
She picked up the knife again. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Nikki,” he said softly. He took her face on his index finger and tilted it towards him.
Nicole sighed and scraped the onions into a pan, pulling out a red pepper and slicing it into thick pieces. “I went to see my mother.”
“And instead of her giving me a hug and telling me she's glad I'm alive, she goes off on this tangent about how I could have been killed. Then she says men don’t care about me but for what they can get from me.”
He knew she was talking about him, but didn't say anything.
She slid the peppers into the pot, seasoned some beef strips and dropped them in as well. She leaned against the counter with her palms flat. “I know she was worried, but you think she’d be a little sweeter to me. This was a scary thing to have happen to us. And all she can say is you don’t love me.”
“She said that?”
Nicole nodded. “She said you can’t possibly love me. Just like that.”

Rich didn’t even know her mother, but her words hurt him. He did so love Nicole. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her close. “Forget it, Nik. Don’t worry about it.” He didn't want to talk about it anymore. When someone doubted true love your only defense was to show and prove.

"He's not dead. He's not dead." Maxell's mad laughter rang out in the parlor. He looked at the face standing before him. "I paid you to do a job and it was not done. How fucking furious do you think I am right now?"
"Look it will be taken care of, alright? Just give me another shot."
"Another sh-" Maxell lowered his voice. "Another shot?"
"That's what I said."
Maxell was tempted to do the job himself but he would bide his time and wait. Everything was against him at the moment. He could wait a little while longer for the job to be done. How much longer, he didn't know. But he would wait.

2006 (c) Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.

Just Popping In To Say...

RIP 1966-2006
I loved the hell outta some Chris Penn in Reservoir Dogs. That's the only thing I've ever seen him in, but best believe I will be on the way to Blockbuster to arm myself with knowledge.
Does this seem a little freaky to anyone else? That is way too young to be dead. Sigh, so when they say live your life to the fullest, they ain't playin.

Monday, January 23, 2006

Quick Question 2

Remember a few days ago when I went off and went bananas about my friend and this bitch he kept talking about? Here are a few responses, then I'm going to get to my next point.

rubiesandalcohol said: You just need to tell him to stop mentioning her name in your convo's, that's all. If he can't handle that, you don't need to talk to him. Just say look, I don't feel like hearing her name everytime we talk.
RubbabandMan said: Damn, shorty, you jealous?
LadyDionysius said: Tell the muthafucka to hop off her nuts.
PrincessDimePiece said: Are you jealous that he talks about her that much? Or does it just annoy you? Are you sure that he doesn't talk about you just as much as he talks about her?
VisualEyes said: I see that you jacked my screenname, bitch. But anyway, I love you. So about the broad, if you don't want to hear her name, tell him that.
sexybxnigga said: Well shit, you don't wanna hear it, don't pick up the phone.
PuertoRicanMami said: Yo! Ma I feel you right now! You know me and Rico is cool and whatever and you know he stay talkin bout this ho all day every day. I was just like nigga for real, shut the fuck up about it or we don't talk no more. I ain't had no problems with it since.

So I'm going to address these. No, Man, I am not jealous. I don't know her to be jealous of her. That goes to you too Princess. VisualEyes, kiss my ass. Sexy, I would love to, but he's my best friend. I'm not going to stop talking to him, as much as I'm tempted at this point. Mami, I'm glad you feel me.
The reason this bothers me so much is because she gets under my skin. I know her from afar and I am truly not liking what I see. From my own personal observations, she is on his dick like white on rice. He talks about what they talk about and if I ever found out he told her anything about me beyond the fact that we are friends I will kick a hole in his chest like a shotgun blast. But the general consensus is that I should be telling him this. So I will, and as soon as I do, I will let you all know the outcome.

POLL: Should I dye my hair?

Let's Be Real

Yes, I know its been a minute. The modified post schedule can be found in the FAQ section, just under the Link section.

Today's Topic: Assisted Suicide

Between 1990 and 1998 Kevorkian assisted in the suicide of over 100 terminally ill people. In each of these cases, the individuals themselves took the final action which resulted in their own deaths: voluntary euthanasia. Dr. Kevorkian assisted only by attaching to the individual a device that he had made. The individual then pushed a button which released the drugs or chemicals that would end his or her own life. (Source: wikipedia.com)
Many of the people I am close with ask me why I side with him. (Up until he actually did commit murder, that is.) I don't find anything wrong with his actions and before you light your torches and chase me out of the village, I will explain why.
With their permission, Dr. K performed a humane service. When an animal is terminally ill, they put it to sleep to save it from spending their last days in crippling pain, suffering with no way out. I see the same thing. I don't know about the rest of you but there is no way I want to spend the last days of my life in that kind of pain. At that point, I myself would have been right there with him.
(Now I am told that he was only strongly criticized until he actually murdered someone, placing a plastic bag over their head. Yeah, dude, that's murder.)
My godmother, who is a devout churchgoer, believes when a person commits suicide, they are sinning and therefore will not make it to heaven. Being a person who doesn't believe the heaven/hell thing, I don't agree. What I believe is that the good doctor put folks out of their misery. It's not like he was bashing folks heads in and taking their money. No. He was ending their lives so they would no longer have to suffer.
Whats's wrong with that? Direct all replies to my email.

Urgent News Bulletin

Men fucking suck.

Sunday, January 22, 2006


I have come to the following conclusion: I would much rather be alone. Yet another dud, who started out with a small amount of potential. So, since I can't seem to get what I want (that's probably because I keep looking for it) I'm going to let it come to me.
Now I said it before, but I was feeling some type of way at that point. I have quickly moved on from there. So no, I'm not back on the market, but yes, I am single by choice. And this time, I'm not giving that up. There is just no reason. I am this close to the man hating point, so before I get there, I'm just going to step off.
I consulted with my sister about this earlier today. May I add that was one of the dumbest decisions I've ever made:
J: How's school.
N: Whack as sh*t. Ain't nothin but these bum ass valley niggas out here. And all the black niggas is wit a white b*tch.
J: That bad huh.
N: F*ck you. What's up wit your nigga?
J: Don't have one.
N: What happened to the nig-
J: Don't want to talk about it.
N: Ya'll had a fight or somethin?
J: We were never together to have a fight.
N: So what happened?
J: He's a f*ckin bum. Just like the rest of them.
N: Damn now you sound like me.
J: Yeah, well, maybe you're on to somethin.

N: You like him?
J: I did.
N: So what's the problem? If you like him what's the problem?
J: He's a piece of shit, Lazy. Straight like that. I'm done with him. When a nigga got an excuse for every single f*ckin time he needs you to come over tomorrow, then you don't need him.
N: (lowers her music) What happened mija?
J: We have yet to go on a real date. And the kids sh*t is botherin me too. He keeps postponin because someone in his family is always "sick." How everytime the nigga calls me his ass is visiting someone in the hospital? So handle your f*ckin business, bitch.
N: Damn, now you really sound like me. *Laughs* So what you gonna do?
J: Same shit I shoulda did long ago. Shut my sh*t off.
So I'm back to being the same old screw faced bitch I was two months ago. :)

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Hoe Sit Down Award of the Week


Jacki-O, who scored a hit with the sexually charged rap "Nookie," has filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy, declaring debts totaling $144,225 and assets of only $1,340. According to the Miami Herald, Jacki-O (born Angela Kohn), filed bankruptcy late last year, not only to clear herself of debts owed to the IRS and merchants like Verizon and Bally's Total Fitness, but also to be released from her recording contract with Miami's Poe Boy Entertainment. A spokesman for TVT Records says that while Jacki-O's petition seeks to free her from obligations with Poe Boy Entertainment, she is not leaving TVT Records. "An artist would like to live a very fabulous lifestyle," the sexy female rapper told the Miami Herald. "But it takes money to look like money." The female rapper best known for battling Foxy Brown on wax as well as in a rumored studio fight, Jacki-O released her first album Poe Little Rich Girl (Poe Boy/TVT) in 2004.

Now a minute ago she was screaming in Foxy's face about how much money she has, how her p*ssy pays her bills, and things of that nature. Now your ass is broke. Funny or sad? Well, since they both live in Florida, she can skip on over to Trina's place and they can live the "Glamourest Life" together.

Piece of Me

That was me
A thousand piece puzzle
A mess of lost humanity
That was until
You found that missing piece
That piece of me
I was unfinished
Just one hole short of
A masterpiece
I was falling apart without you
as my crutch
My bandage
My love
Up until you made me whole
You found that piece
You patched the holes in me
Made me complete
I was wrong
I thought it would be a long forever
Then you put me back together

2006 © JackithaRippa

Mood Swing At Ten O'Clock

I plan to be in a f*cked up mood for the remainder of the weekend. To my faithful readers that have my number, please do not try to contact me via phone. I am not in the mood for any conversation and not in the mood for any company. If you don't believe me, call and see what happens. I love you all to pieces but I haven't had an attitude in a long time. I think I deserve to have one. And seeing as the one person I truly needed to talk to f*cked up my already bad day, I'm not going to be courteous to anyone until said person gets their sh*t right and comes at me correctly.

(Is it wrong that I found Fargo sadly hysterical? It's that Steve Buscemi. He kills me...)

Friday, January 20, 2006

"And Let Me Get Another Bleu Cheese..."

I went to chill with the brats today. I didn't actually see any of them as the fallout lack of sleep took over at the most inappropriate time. I got there at eight, went to sleep at nine thirty and woke up at one thirty. So four hours of sleep. Now I was already crabby as hell from not having slept at all the previous night, and surprisngly, taking that nap only served to make matters worse. The highlight of what can only be described as a shitty day was the hot wings I had for lunch accompanied by my Mr. and Mrs. Smith fix on my portable DVD player.
A short time after I wake up, I'm still in a state of semi sleep, meaning I don't want to be bothered with the lives of anyone around me. With that in mind, the family workers invade my space for lunch. None of the family workers are male, which is what would have made this experience a little less painful. The problem with this place is that there are too many bitches running around trying to be the HNIC when there is no N to compete with. You remember that phrase too many Chiefs and not enough Indians? Well, they prove that theory each and every day. There is just too much goddamn estrogen running around in there. And the men that are employed play such a smaller role (cook, janitor, resident child molester) that whatever goodness could come out of their presence is overshadowed by the hags who think this place is theirs for the taking.
So back to the family workers. The heifers open up their funky lunches and begin to smack and chew and talk and socialize as loudly as possible. I think the odor of all their combined lunches was actually less nauseating than the mindless droll they called conversation. Nearly moved to tears of boredom and annoyance at this point I grab my jacket and leave the room.
As soon as I get outside I am hit by what can only be described as the most hellish felling I have ever had the misfortune of experiencing. Heat...at the end of January. It had to be sixty f*cking degrees at place in time when it should have been single digits. I have not zipped my coat once since "winter" started this year. I had to suffer through one of the worst summers of my life and you can't even give me a good snowfall? What did I do wrong? I am cursing Mother Nature in the hopes that she blankets New York with the worst weather since the creation of the Almanac.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Just Popping In To Say...

RIP Wilson Pickett 1942-2006

Best believe when I heard this I burst out in a rousing chorus of Mustang Sally...

Steve McQueen

Well I went to bed in Memphis
And I woke up in Hollywood
I got a quarter
in my pocket
And I'd call you if I could
But I don't know why
I gotta fly
I wanna rock and roll this party
I still wanna have some fun
I wanna leave you feeling breathless
Show you how the west was won
But I gotta flyI gotta fly

Like Steve McQueen
All I need's a fast machine
I'm gonna make it all right
Like Steve McQueen
Underneath your radar screen
You'll never catch me tonite

I ain't takin' shit off no one
Baby that was yesterday
I'm an all American rebel
Making my big getaway
Yeah you know it's time
I gotta fly

Like Steve McQueen
All I need's a fast machine
I'm gonna make it all right
Like Steve McQueen
Underneath your radar screen
You'll never catch me tonite

We got rockstars in the Whitehouse
All our popstars look like porn
All my heroes hit the highway
Cause they don't hang out here no more
You can call me on my cell phone
You can page me all night long
But you won't catch this freebird
I'll already be long gone

Like Steve McQueen
All we need's a fast machine
And we're gonna make it all right

-Sheryl Crow
C'mon, C'mon

I have been trying to find this song for so long. Now that I know what the words are and what album its on, (all my benefactors please listen closely) I am going to need to add it to my collection. One statement about cracker music and I will cut your tongue out where you stand.

And yes, goddamnit, my phone is off. Pump your freakin brakes, it'll be back on in the afternoon. I'll send out a freakin group text message so you fiends can stop harrassing me.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

In The News...

Couple Get Prison in Chili Finger Case
San Jose, California - A couple who planted a severed finger in a bowl of Wendy's chili in a scheme to extort money from the fast-food chain were sentenced Wednesday to prison terms of at least nine years.
Anna Ayala, 40, who said she bit into the digit, was sentenced to nine years. Her husband, Jaime Plascencia, 44, who obtained the finger from a co-worker who lost it in a workplace accident, was sentenced to more than 12 years.
"Greed and avarice overtook this couple," said Superior Court Judge Edward Davila, adding that the pair had "lost their moral compass."
The two pleaded guilty in September to conspiracy to file a false insurance claim and attempted grand theft with damages exceeding $2.5 million.
In a tearful plea for leniency, Ayala apologized to the courtroom gallery and said the scheme was "a moment of poor judgment."
She said she retched March 22 after biting into the fingertip while dining with her family at a Wendy's in San Jose.
Forensic tests later showed Ayala never chomped down on the finger, but she described the incident to television news crews.
"There's no words to describe what I felt. It's sick, it's disgusting," she said in a clip played before sentencing. "Just knowing there was a human remain in my mouth is tearing me apart inside."
Although authorities suspected a hoax - in part because the finger was not cooked - word of the stomach-turning find quickly spread around the world. The Dublin, Ohio-based fast food chain claimed it lost $2.5 million in sales because of the bad publicity, and dozens of workers at the company's Northern California franchises were laid off.
The sentencing followed a 90-minute hearing in which several Wendy's employees testified, including the man who made the chili and the cashier who helped Ayala on the day she made the claim.
"I felt so bad for the fear of what people would think of me," said Hector Pineda, who made the chili and initially came under suspicion. "We are the ones that have suffered."
No Wendy's employee was missing a digit at the San Jose restaurant, and no chili suppliers reported finger injuries at their plants.
In April, Ayala was arrested at her suburban Las Vegas home. Investigators found a pattern of legal claims she brought against businesses in her name or for her children.
A lengthy search for the finger's owner eventually pointed to one of Plascencia's co-workers, who lost it in an accident at the paving company where they worked, police said.
Plascencia bought the tip of Brian Rossiter's right ring finger for $100 and told him what he and Ayala were plotting, according to court documents. Rossiter later told police the couple offered him $250,000 to keep quiet.
During a recorded jailhouse phone call, Ayala bragged about how other inmates were asking for her autograph, according to a transcript of the call.

The poll on the site asks whether the senteneces are too harsh or too lenient. I think they are about right. What gives you the right to make a fool out of innocent hard working people for a quick buck. Sure its okay in movies and on television, but real life con men make things a little colder, a little harsher for the rest of us. I think they deserve everything they got. It's sad that people will go to such great lengths to avoid making money the honest way. The two of them are disgusting and I hope their time in prison teaches them that life is not about easy exits.

Insomniac Theatre

It's 4:35 am and I'm still wide awake. Why? So once again for the 50-11th time, I'm going to be watching Mr and Mrs Smith. Why? Because I can.

Has anyone ever seen Sling Blade?

Quick Question

Dog, why you over here? It's so many hoes in here. My office hours nine to five, why don't you call me there? It's so many hoes in here.
My bad, I had to lapse into Jay right quick. Back when I was on the Blueprint 2 album every damn day that was my jam. That's not why I'm here.
I want to ask a question. Ladies, how many of you have male friends that you talk to on a regular basis? Okay, now does he have this one bitch he constantly talks about like she's fucking stained glass and he says he loves her (in that friendly way of course) when you know good and damn well that he hasn't known her for half as long as he's known you and the bitch doesn't know half the shit you know about him and and even though you're not dating or anything you're really startin to feel like everytime you have a conversation you can't get to the end without the nigga mentioning the bitch name and its really startin to piss you off because he thinks the two of you should be friends when in reality all you want to do is punch the bitch in her mouth then slap the shit out of him for being such a fucking dumb kiss ass?
I'm really starting to feel this way about this nigga. My sister says its jealousy. I say its sensibility. What makes you think I want to hear any other bitches name out of your mouth while I'm trying to have a decent conversation? What kind of dumb shit is that? And when I say he talks about the bitch like that, trsut me, its like that. I have to take a fucking tally at the end of our convo's. It's like, damn nigga did she suck your dick with frozen diamonds or what? The funny thing about is that I don't have a problem with him telling me about his baby mama. That I don't mind. But I am really sick of hearing this bitch name out of his mouth for real!
Sidebar: I know this isn't how I usually sound but I've got a few beers and three glasses of Jack Daniels in me so I'm a little wired.
He calls me up and the FIRST NAME OUT OF HIS MOUTH IS -----. I came oh this close to hanging up on him. I have never met the bitch in my life and if all goes well I never will. But Lawd have mercy this shit is pissing me off. Please somebody email me and tell me I'm wrong. Jee golly Moses, tell me I'm wrong.

(BTW Four Brothers is the dopest movie ever. I loved it, every moment from start to finish. It was very sad but it was so good. Bobby Mercer is officially my nigga. So from now on, if somebody gets on me the wrong way, I'll just say "I'll Bobby Mercer your ass." :D)

...Ain't Gold (Part Twenty)

New Year's Eve: Two Weeks Later
Rich helped Nicole out of the car, admiring the view from the back as she walked towards the club. He locked the car and caught up with her, passing the long line of New Year's partiers. A few shouted out in jealousy, but when they saw who he was, the noise stopped. After making a stop at the coat check, Rich and Nicole made their way to the VIP section. Nicole heard the noise before they made it inside.
“Bout time you got here nigga. Party ain’t a party til you get there.”
“You know I was comin.”
Mookie up and downed Nicole. “This her? Damn, nigga! You said she was fine, you ain't say she was fine!”
Rich laughed. “Nikki, this my man, Mookie.”
He stuck his hand out politely. “Very nice to meet you.” He leaned in closer. “You make sure you keep and eye on him, hear me?” Nikki smiled and nodded.
“Don’t be tellin her that shit,” Rich said.
“Rich!” The cry went up collectively. Well brothaman must be popular, she thought. He took handshakes and kisses from everyone there. He knew an awful lot of females, she noticed. “Baby,” he pointed counterclockwise. “You know Mookie, that’s my best friend, my numba one nigga. You need anything you call him. That there is Cris B, that’s Smash, Mike and that-that is Toots.”
Smash took a sip of champagne and almost choked. “That’s Nicole? How the hell your corny ass get with her? He buy you McDonalds, mama?” Nicole smiled widely at his joke.
The group laughed. Rich smiled back and lifted his middle finger. “Don’t even try to play me like that, Smash. I don’t see no shorty on your arm.”
Smash looked at his watch. “Don’t worry. Ya mama should be here any minute.” There was a chorus of “ohhh’s!” The crew knew what was coming. Rich was in a good mood and if he felt like getting into a shit talking contest, everyone knew the outcome.
Rich let the pot shot slide, and quickly followed it with another one. “Nah, she makin a pit stop at ya daddy house.”

"How she gone be at daddy house when she on her way here?"
"She on her way here to slap you for lyin bout that dick."
Nicole put a hand to her mouth and giggled. She had never heard men talk like that. It was funny and she liked it. Toots laughed aloud as well.
Smash didn't appreicate Toots laughing at his joke and got on her. "Fuck you laughin for Toots? Don't nobody want your shit." He made this statement knowing the opposite was true. Everyone wanted a piece of her but they all knew her loyalty lay in one man. She didn't let him get away with it. She slid a hand across her chest, licked her lips and retorted, "Your baby mama likes it."
That ended it, the boys running over and declaring Toots the winner. She got him good with that one and she smiled, toasting Smash and her victory.
“Oh aright, Toots I got you. I got you. It’s nice to meet you, ma,” Smash said, standing. He hugged her. “It’s a pretty sight to finally see this nigga wit a real woman on his arm.”
“Yeah, somethin you know nothin about.”
“Fuck you, Rich. Aight?”
Nicole met Toots, who eyed her skeptically, but then warmed up as the night went on. It turned out the two had a lot more in common than Toots thought they did. She liked the girl. She was exactly what Rich needed. A good girl with a level head on her shoulders. She knew Rich wanted to settle down and get out of the game soon, and Nicole was a better bet than any chicken she’d ever seen him with.
Over the next four hours, Nicole was properly introduced to the family and very soon she felt right at home, as if she had known them forever. Rich kept ducking in and out, returning wit a grin on like the Cheshire Cat. She didn't know what he was up to, but Toots told her it was nothing ot worry about. She followed her around and talked. It was near midnight when they finally got a chance to sit down. Rich pulled her down next to him on one of the couches.
“Hey sweets.”
“What’s up?”
“I want my babygirl to myself for a little while.”
“That’s fine with me,” she said, laying her head against his shoulder. The party was in full swing around them, but their little world was quiet. Rich took her left hand in his right, gently squeezing her fingers. After a few moments of relaxed silence,
“How long do you see yourself bein with me, Nikki? Honestly.”
Nikki put her mind to work and answered him as honestly as she could. “I really could be with you forever, Richard.”
“You sure?”
She looked into his eyes. “I’m very sure.”
He nodded and reached for his jacket, which he laid on the couch a little while ago. He produced a little black box and handed it to her.
“Rich, what is this?”
“Open it up, mama.” He had a glint in his hazel eyes and a smile dancing on his lips.
Nikki opened the box. Staring back at her was a massive yellow diamond ring. Her mouth was open, but there were no sounds coming out. Se finally did find something to say.

"Are you asking me to marry you?"
He smiled, dimples flashing, eyes dancing. Nikki was still fishing for words.
“Come on, mama, don't make me get down on one knee.” He chuckled.
“Oh my god! Rich!”
“I-Yes! Yes!” As everyone was shouting Happy New Year Richard leaned over and pulled Nikki close to him, kissing her hard. “I love you so much, baby,” he whispered.
“I love you too Rich!”
Rich caught Smash's eye. “Yo check it!” his big voice boomed out. “Check it! Yo, lemme get a one time for my nigga Rich,” he paused and waited for the cheers to subside, “And his shorty, the soon-to-be Mrs. Knightley, they just got engaged, niggas. Throw ya drinks up, kiss the ring niggas!”

Toots turned around, holding a hand to her mouth to keep it from falling to the floor. Mookie turned as well, painting a surprised grin on his face to hide the steam coming out of his ears.
This was also a surprise to everyone in the room. Richard Knightley had always professed that he would never wed, that he would ride or die, “money over bitches,” until the day he was lowered in the ground. In half a year, Nikki had changed all that. Her world was turned upside down like glitter in a snow globe. But all that glitters ain't gold.

Rich and Nikki left the party two hours later, with Nikki protesting his ability to drive. “You had a few.”
“I had two. I’m straight.” He took her hand and they walked blissfully out to the car. “You made me a very happy man tonight, babygirl.”
“You made me a happy girl. I can’t believe this,” she said, taking a hold of his arm. He opened her car door as he always did, and then slid in comfortably on his side. He kissed her lips again and started up the engine. Silent and reliable it purred to life.

At the next light, Rich leaned over to kiss her again. He was so damn so happy at this very moment. He had the most beautiful girl on his arm. She loved him and he loved her. And that’s all there was to it. He never saw the black sedan pull up alongside them. By the time Nicole screamed a warning, it was too late. Three flashes hit the side of the CL and the sedan sped off, leaving skid marks in the street.

...Ain't Gold (Part Nineteen)

Now that Nicole and Rich had become an item, she became well aware of the part she had to play. She spent as much time as she could getting to know him and vice versa. Even so, there are some things that slip through the nets in new relationships.
Returning home from a night out, the last thing Rich wanted to do was hear a phone ring. He wanted to smoke and sleep. He had just lit up when Nicole's cell rang. She looked at the CallerID and rolled her eyes.
“Hoodie hoo! Holla! What up, Cheeks?”
Oh Lord, Nikki thought. Rich watched her face closely, watching it change.
“What do you want, Stretch?”
He sat up straight. He knew weed was a hallucinogen, but he wasn’t stupid.
“How many times do I have to-No I don’t wanna talk to you. Look, I-” She turned around as he tapped her shoulder.
“Who is that?” he mouthed.
She covered the mouthpiece. “My ex-boyfriend,” she whispered.
Stretch was her ex? If this was the same Stretch he knew… “What he look like?”
Nicole shrugged, covering the mouth again. “Kinda short, pudgy.”
“He got a scar on his face?”
She nodded. “Why?”
He snatched the phone. “Nigga, don’t call her back. Don’t call this number again.”
“Who dis?” Stretch asked.
“You know who this is.”
Stretch laughed in nervous realization. “Nigga, you ain't gone do nothin about it. Take all that bass out your voice.”
“Don’t make me come see you, nigga.” He hung up the phone and flipped it on the bed, turning his attention to Nicole. “Why you ain't tell me you knew that nigga?”
Nicole gave him a quizzical look. “I didn’t think it was important who I dated before you.” She went back to taking off her clothes.
Rich wasn’t going to let this go without a fight. “Why you got that nigga callin you this early anyway? He always be callin this time?”
She looked at him. “Stretch does what he wants, always has. He calls whenever he feels like it.”
“Why you got your ex callin you, though? He don’t know you got a man?”
“He knew before. I just haven’t heard from him in a while.”
Rich sat on the edge of the bed pouting. “I don’t want no niggas callin you,” he said.
“Excuse me? Besides him, I have friends who are males, you know.”
“Tell them not to be callin you.” If she’d dated Stretch, whom else had she been with? He tried to get the picture of the two of them out of his head.
Nicole stood up and snatched his SideKick from where it was charging. “Let’s play a little game of pop-goes-the-hypocrite, shall we?” she asked.
Rich flicked his tongue ring out of his mouth and frowned as she scrolled down the list. “Adeena, Alexi, Andrea, Anisa, Bonnie, Brenda, hmm, gets even better, Elizabeth, Eneida, Eva, hmm, Farrah, Fatimah, Felicia, shall I go on, Rich?”
“That’s different, ma.”
“How? How is it different? Just like you had female friends when you met me, I had male friends when I met you. And since I’m not treating you any different, I wouldn't expect you to treat me any different.” Her mood soured. She looked at her watch, sure she had a party to plan in the morning.
“But if that nigga calls you at two in the morning, you obviously ain't never bothered to set him straight.”
“I told you before, Stretch does what he wants. Unlike you, I don’t have two hundred spare dollars to change my phone number. And while we’re on it, how do you know him?”
Rich was annoyed that he had lost this one. “Just forget it. I shoulda never brought it up.” He turned and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Nicole rolled her eyes when the shower started.

When he returned, she was in the bed with her back turned to him. She was at the far end, hugging her pillow. Her actions were a sure sign there would be no boot knockin tonight. But it was still worth a shot. “Nik,” he whispered.
“You mad at me?” he kept whispering.
“Yes, Rich.”
He rolled over behind her, and followed the silhouette of her body to her butt and pinched slightly.
“Why you mad at me?”
Nicole rubbed her butt. “Because, Rich.”
“Because what?”
“Because I do not appreciate you trippin on me over somethin so stupid. I thought you were more mature than that.”
“I wasn’t tryna get you mad, Nik. I’m sorry, baby.”
That’s what she was waiting for. “Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t know!” He sat up then, pinching her butt again.
“Hey!” she rolled over and pinched him back. He lifted her into his lap. “I’m sorry, alright?”
“I know. And I also know that you're trying to get some.”
He chuckled, sucking her breast. “Is it working?”

“Yes it is.”

"I need to know what it's gone be Rich."
"Aw, come on, Toots don't do this to me. You my whole left side, now you let me go over some bullshit?"

"Fuck Cookie man! Ain't I always take care of you? Huh? What the fuck Cookie ever did for you? I need you, Toots!"
"She's my sister, Rich!"
Rich couldn't let her get away from him like that. He knew the past was the past and he needed her to be there. He put the beg on.
"Baby. I can't do this without you. I need you. What happened to me and Cookie happened to us. It was then. But this is now. I need you now, okay? I'm gettin hit from all sides and you my number one."
Toots bottom lip trembled. She knew he was right.
Rich looked into her eyes and knew he had broken her down. "Listen to me aight? I know what happened with me and Cookie was fucked up. I know that. I do. But it happened. Iw ish I could take it back but I can't. Aight? I would never doanything to hurt her like that again and I would never hurt you like that period. Aight?"
Toots pursed her lips. "Whatever."
He smiled.

“He's amazing. I am so in love with him.”
Chuchi stopped decorating long enough to put a hand on her hip. One brow raised she asked, “You love him or your pussy love him?”
Nicole slumped her shoulders and made a face at her friend. “Both of us.” Chuchi was raw and explicit but that’s why Nicole loved her.
“I’m just making sure. You remember you said the same thing about Stretch. And that nigga before him. What was his name? Taylor?”
Nicole rescued the bowl of leftover batter before Chuchi threw it in the sink. She sucked her finger clean before answering. “I didn’t really love them. I thought I did. And anyway that is ancient history.”
“So what?” Chuchi pointed at her with the icing bag. “You fall in love too fast, mi amor. Then you fuck yourself cuz you think you love the nigga, but they don’t want nothin but this.” She slapped her crotch.
“Rich isn’t like that.”
“Neither was Stretch.”
“You are such a hater.”
“I’m not hatin. I’m lookin out. You know I love you and I don’t wanna have to hurt none of these puntos if somethin happen to you, si? Use su cabeza, mi amor.”
“I know.” She watched Chuchi put the finishing touches on a birthday cake. Nicole had a party booked for the evening and she didn't trust anyone to make her deserts that wasn't Chuchi. The girl was better than the celebrity bakers.
“He loves you back?” Chuchi asked.
“Of course he loves me back.”
Chuchi put a hand on her hip. “Did he meet Miss Pearl yet?”
Nicole mumbled incoherently. Miss Pearl was everyone’s affectionate nickname for Nicole’s mother.
“Why not?”
“Because she won't like him, I know she won't.”
“How you know?”
“Mama has never liked any of my boyfriend's.”
Chuchi sat back on the stool and admired their work. “Maybe its cuz you insist on bringin home them ghetto ass, crack-slangin block-huggin, boot-wearin niggas.”
“Kiss my ass Chuchi. For real.” Deep inside she knew her friend was right.
© 2006

Monday, January 16, 2006


I'm in some kind of mood tonight...not exactly a bad one, but not exactly a good one either. I feel kind of funky, you know? I should be writing, I really should be. Speaking of writing;

****Urgent News Flash****
Those of you faithful readers that are patiently waiting on the arrival of Poison Ivy by Travis VP Fox, I must inform you that the book has been pushed back to a tentative November 2006. Yes, spread it around. Not July, but November. So if you are one of those folks awaiting a copy, I will let you know any and all details as soon as they are available to me. Tell your friends and neighbors. This concludes our news flash.

So I got an email from QBoro the other day. It asked for my synopsis and mailing address. Batman told me I should be optimistic, by them asking, they are at least showing interest. He can name people they weren't interested in. You all know me: Queen Pess (short for pessimistic). If I can't see the Promised Land and feel the sand beneath my feet, I'm not a believer.
After that he proceeded to chew me out for over an hour. After I finished crying, I realized everything he told me was right. As usual. So I've got a whole new outlook. No, I am not optimistic, but I am glad they at least asked me for that info. They could have just deleted it and said girl please. So while I am not getting my hopes up, I am happy for that much.

To everyone I repsonded to in the 359 emails I checked the other day:
Yes, RubbabandMan was in an accident on his motorcycle the other day. I am happy to announce that while the injuries looked much more severe when he came into the hospital, he called and let me know he is doing alright. I'm supposed to go see him this week. According to his sister he broke his leg which is set and looking well, and sprained his wrist. He has a number of small bruises and scratches, none of which are critical.
That ends this week's update. Look for a new Ain't Gold shortly.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Just Popping In To Say...

RIP Shelley Winters 1921-2006
If you recall, Ms. Winters played the supporting role in Diary of Anne Frank. (Excellent movie.)

In hip hop news, (here's to you, sexybxnigga, RubbabandMan and Diamond_Princess):

Eminem and Kim Mathers remarried yesterday at a tightly guarded ceremony at Meadow Brook Hall in Rochester Hills, Michigan. Guests included the members of G-Unit and Proof of D12, who was the best man. This is the second trip down the aisle for the Mathers, who were married first in '99. Eminem's album, Curtain Call, is now available in stores.

Now you all know I don't give a good goddamn about DMX but this is pertinent info for his fans. X quietly walked away from Def Jam and longtime friend Jay-Z to sign with Columbia Records. His new LP, Here We Go Again, is slated for a spring release. X left prison a few days short of his 70-day sentence late last month for good behavior.

The Source Magazine is attempting to boot David Mays and Raymond "Benzino" Scott from the company, claiming their involvement in the company hurts “not only the employees of The Source, but all of its investors, vendors, subscribers and readers.” What exactly does that mean? If they're not shipping crack in between the pages of the magazine are they really casuing it any harm? Or is it that sexual harassment lawsuit that's still floating around? Oops! Did I say that out loud?

This isn't hip hop news but...Um, when were ya'll gone tell me that Kylie Minougue had breast cancer? You know I don't keep up with the cracker news! Ya'll gotta give me something, mayne! I can't be in two dimensions at once.

In Dumb Fuck News...
Juvenile was arrested in central Florida on a warrant related to a child support case. Huh. The jokes are falling out my mouth faster than I can think them up. Now where she get them checks from? She get it from her mama. Brothas, handle ya bidniz.

...Ain't Gold (Part Eighteen)

Toots dropped her coat in the middle of the floor and kicked off her boots, leaving a snowy mess in the hallway. She paused in midstep to snatch her coat off the floor and grab her Newports and lighter. She lit it and drew her gun.
"Put that away. I'm not here for a fight."
Toots lowered her weapon at the sound of her sister's voice. She offered a smoke, which was declined. "What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk."
"Me. And you. And Rich." Cookie was well aware that though the gun was lowered, it was still pointed lazily in her direction. She knew her sister would do anything to protect her precious Rich but she needed her to hop off his nuts for a second and see the big picture.
Toots sat across from her sister, feet up on her coffee table. "So what about you? And me? And Rich?"
"What's up wit ya'll? Ya'll fuckin or not?"
"Why is that your fucking business, Cookie?"
"Because now you know what he did to me. So you need to figure out where your loyalties lie."
Toots sucked her teeth and rose. "That's bullshit and you know it."
Cookie followed her. "It ain't bullshit. That muthafucka let me sit in prison, Toots. For something I ain't do. He ain't come see me or nothin. You know what them bitches do to you in there?"
"What do you want me to say, Cookie? You want me to say fuck him, I'm down wit you? Is that what you want me to say?"
"Hell yeah! I need to know you got my back. We blood."
Toots paused. "Yeah, so?"
Cookie was taken aback. Yeah, so? What was Toots trying to say to her? She had a duty to protect her blood. She couldn't let Rich get away with what he had done to her. She couldn't turn her back on her only sister.
"You love him, Toots?"
"Did you?"
"That's not what I asked you."
"What the fuck does it matter? That shit was in the past. I'm not gone pay for what happened to you. He needs me."
"He don't need you. You see what he did to me. He made me kill my baby, Toots."
Toots rolled her eyes at her sister. "That could've been anybody's baby, Cookie, and you know it."
Cookie raised a long finger and pointed it in her sister's face. "It was his baby. He knew it and I knew it. Don't fuck with me."
"He knew it wasn't his. He was doing what he needed to do to survive. We was all just startin out then, you know it."
Cookie quickly became indignant. This was not going as planned. "Fuck him Toots!" she screamed. "Fuck him! He don't love you! He don't need you! If he loved you he wouldn't be fuckin that bitch! He don't love you Toots!"
"Shut up!" Toots caved, bending at the waist and hollering back with all her might. "Shut up! Get out!" She was screaming too hard to know what she was really saying. She pointed towards the door with her gun still in hand. She wanted Cookie out and as far away from her as possible. Cookie brushed past her sister and slammed the door on her way out. When she was gone, Toots fell to the floor and let on a long, childish wail.
Cookie had hit her where it hurt. And she wouldn't soon forget it.

Saturday, January 14, 2006


For the first time in a long time, I'm in a dope mood.
Shockingly, I had an okay day. I had a bad feleing last night, like today was oging to suck ass, but surprisingly, it didn't. It was halfway decent. I listened to Hatin Love 40 times. I had to get it out of my system. Now I'm on Jamie Foxx again. (Baby, if we leave the club it won't be nothin but good lovin, cuz I got a warm bed, I got a warm bed...)
Washed my hair and flat-ironed it. It's getting long again, thank God for that. I'm thinking about going to get it colored. Maybe? Si? No? I'm taking votes. Last time, I rinsed the tips electirc blue and it didn't come out the way I wanted it to because the dumb bitch that did it waited until she eas finished to tell me it had to be dyed for it to come out the way I wanted it to. Now would it have been so hard for her to say, honey, are you sure you don't want to dye it instead? Cow.
Damn I love this song!
Batman is convinced I can turn the last bootcamp exercise into an action novel. I'm not so sure but since none of my seven original ideas are jumping out right now I think I should get a move on and try, yeah? All the other ideas are urban fiction because those are the only ones I thought I could write before I started experimenting with other genres.
Anyway, the idea is in its early stages and I'm going to baby it until I know exactly what I want to do with it. Its going to take a lot of research. I know sombody I know knows somebody on a SWAT Team, so I'm going to have to follow them around and harrass them until they give up all they know. Its tentatively called The Watcher. That's all I know right now. I have to spin out the bootcamp exercise and expand it. Tonight I'm going to outlinewhat I want te story to be about, develop the main/suppoting characters and work the plot. I've never done that before because everything else I just write. But this is different. I don't want this to be something I "just wrote."
So bear with me because the posts may come few and far between again. My faithfuls, you remeber when they were coming like twice a week, right? Yeah, those might be days revisited.
I'm trying to spruce up the background, adding little things to make the place a little better looking. I want my girl to make me a sidebar siggy. I don't know what I want yet. Something with color in it, that's all I know. For now, let me get back to writing. I'll give ya'll an update as soon as one is available.

Baby if we leave the club it wont be nothin but good lovin, cuz I got a warm bed, I got a warm bed...

Friday, January 13, 2006

Just Gotta Make It

As you can see, I have a new thing for Trey Songz. I finally broke down and decided to listen to the album. And I am in love.
This album is definitely going in the Heavy Rotation section. I didn't have to skip not one song. I'm happy about that because what with all the crappy albums out these days, hearing a new sound is good for me. It breaks up the monotony of bad D4L songs.
And now that I'm diggin his voice I'm diggin his face. See, he's pretty. And he's good looking. I don't dig the whole skinny guy thing, so that's a setback, but he's got the facial thing going.

Anywho, back to the album...My favorite song(s) are the ones I would have changed the station had anyone else been singing them. Cheat On You, Ur Behind, Comin For You, In The Middle and Hatin Love. Hatin Love is my new anthem, I swear. I felt every single damn word ole boy was singing. *Lyrics are posted below, arm yourselves with knowledge.* So that's on the list of things I have to buy when I get a chance.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Hatin Love

Now I've done had lots of relationships,
Aint none of them ever added up to shit,
My folks they always told me what you wish,
Be careful cause that one thing you could get,
So I prayed to the Lord to send me love,
Send me something like an angel from up above,
But instead I got a chick who played on my heart,
She had me feeling good then tore me apart.

Love aint supposed to feel this way,
Love aint supposed to hurt or cause you pain,
Love aint supposed to make me cry,
But now I'm trying to wipe my eyes.
I'm hatin love
Love aint supposed to feel this way,
Love aint supposed to hurt or cause you pain,
Love aint supposed to make me cry,
But now I'm trying to wipe my eyes.

She was like the devil in disguise,
Spending time with me and thinking of other guys,
And even though I tried my best,
I cant describe the way she made me feel,
All over a girl, who never gave her all,
Never gave me much, when it came to love,
I dont know why I spent so much time,
On a love that wasn't mine,
And the pain is so unkind.

Love aint supposed to feel this way,
Love aint supposed to hurt or cause you pain,
Love aint supposed to make me cry,
But now I'm trying to wipe my eyes.
I'm hatin love
Love aint supposed to feel this way,
Love aint supposed to hurt or cause you pain,
Love aint supposed to make me cry,
But now I'm trying to wipe my eyes.

Now it aint even worth my time,
Love aint supposed to feel like I'm losing my mind,
I once was blind but now I see,
The girl was playing games she aint the one for me,
I'm trying to told ya,
If you find a love, just dont close your eyes, you might go blind,
Got to keep it smart, give it all your heart,
if you fall to far in love you'll find the hard way.

-Trey Songz

Heavy Rotation

So the album's in my CD player have changed once again. I've found a much more eclectic mix than the last HR list I did. Since there is borderline NO good rap left to listen to, I've had to go through the pop/rock/alternative vault to find something to listen to. I've found the following
Raheem DeVaughn
Fall Out Boy
Chris Brown
Natasha Bedingfield
Jamie Foxx

These are all very good albums (Chris Brown's is shockingly incredibly decent if you're into the bubblegum R&B artist scene. He's like twelve and could use a few singing lessons but the songs are for the msot part pretty good.
I first heard Foxx's album at my new guy's house (we'll discuss that in depth later). Let's say its a very good mood setter. Some soft light, candles and/or incense and you've got a nice little setting there.
As for Ms. Bedingfield, I will sing her name to anyone who will listen. I've played her album five times in the last two days. I am in love with this chick!
So that's my heavy rotation list for this month.
By the way, has anybody seen Fabolous?

Pretty vs. Sweet, The Philosophy Behind The Face

Every pretty man I've ever spoken to resents the fact that I call them pretty. What is wrong with that? Here are the statements and descriptions.
Daizha: Daizha and I have been tight for three days past forever. He hates it with a passion when I call him a pretty nigga, but he is. I call him my cousin. I keep him close because despite the pretty face, he can do things with his fists that I have never seen. He's taken nigga-I-will-whip-your-ass to a whole new level.
Anyway, he's got the softest, smoothest brown skin and get this - green eyes. Not light green, not hazel, but green, like just polished jade. I don't know how he got them, but he did. I based on the eyes alone. He was pissed because that character is female, but she's a bad ass so that more than makes up for it.
I asked him what the problem was?
"Pretty niggas is sweet," he replied.
"How do you figure that?"
"Sweet is homo. I ain't no f*ckin homo, son."
Truth be told, he is neither sweet nor homo. He's fine as hell and girls, if you ever see him, you'll know who he is.
Deion: Deion plays football right now, he's in Florida somwehere, last I checked. He also falls under the pretty category. Smooth skin, big eyes, soft, reassuring smile. He's pretty. And he hates it.

"You know how gay that sh*t is?"
Once again! With the gay reference!
Nikki: Nikki was cursed with the face of an angel and the name of a chick. Yes, his mother named him Nichole. I didn't believe him until I saw a copy of his birth certificate. He's proud of his name and dares anyone to have anything to say about it. He hates it when I call him pretty. He can't do anything about it. I happen to think he's gorgeous.
"You think you real funny with that pretty sh*t, right? Aight, I got somethin for your ass."
Batman: Bats is yet another man with exceptionally fair features. Brown skinned, straight pointed nose, big lips (girls, you know the kind I'm referring to) high cheekbones and a slender face. Now I told him he was pretty during our latest installment of After Hours Talk. He was too mad. "I ain't pretty!" Yes baby, you are.
Now there are folks who look soft to the point of sacrificing their manhood. They are as follows:
David Gest
Mr. Star Jones-Reynolds
Terry McMilian's ex hubby
Elijah Wood
Toby MacGuire
Ray J
Marques Houston
Any and everyone ever associated with B2K
Michael Chiarello (if you don't know him, you are not part of my circle. Get down with Food Newtwork and hit me back.)
and I'm sure the list goes on and on. If anyone ever tells you you look like any of the aforementioned dudes, you have my permission to proceed with whipping their asses.
I think it all has to do with ones security. For example, they've been calling Nikki pretty his whole life. Now this one dude called him a pretty ass bitch and got his face broken. There's a limit to how much teasing one is willing to take on account of their appearance. Being secure in your sexuality is a major deal for most of the men I know. If they even think something is going on that makes them look bad, they jump up and say "no homo" before they get classed as gay.
The point is, just because you are a man blessed with a softer look than other, does not mean you are in anyway sweet, gay, pink, homo, a fag, rainbow, or any other synonym for homosexual. It just means that you are blessed with a soft face. It does not take away from your masculinity at all. Why? I can call any one of the above mentioned men and they will whip any ass I ask them to, no question.
And they'll look good doing it.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

These Words (I Love You, I Love You)

I heard this song for the first time flipping past MTV a few months ago. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but right now it's my favorite song out. Found the album and right now, it's my favorite album out. So it stands that Natasha Bedingfield is my new favorite artist. She has created a lovely pop album (and I don't listen to pop so it must be damn good) that I will be listening to everyday for the next six months, at least. I am so damn happy over here right now! Grab a broom and sing with me, ya'll!

My Dear Mr. Blackwell...

Mr. Blackwell has released his Worst Dressed List for 2005. I have been patiently waiting, as his lists are often on point. And this year he does not disappoint.
1) Britney Spears
2) Mary-Kate Olsen
3) Jessica Simpson

4) Eva Longoria
5) Mariah Carey
6) Paris Hilton
7) Anna Nicole Smith
8) Shakira
9) Lindsay Lohan
10) Renee Zellweger

Britney Spears has never looked good in her entire (how many years has it been now?) career. I think she looked better in her Mouseketeers outfit than she has ever looked at any of her performances.
Mary Kate Olsen...hmm, well since there isn't enough of her to clothe, I'm sure Mr. Blackwell was referring to the living room drapes that girl is constantly swallowed in.
Jessica Simpson has no taste. I know ya'll saw her at the awards show that time she had that black and white Hi-my-name-is-Inga-from-Sweden milkmaid outfit on? My mother and I have an acronym we frequently use. It's WTFAYG: Where The Fuck Are You Going?
Eva Longoria: I happen to like the way she looks. She's so tiny, you can put her in your pocket. I've never seen her look too bad. A little on the baby girl you might wanna change that, but never bad.
Mariah Carey has looked bad since the day she married Tommy Mottola. And now that she's old and fat and insists on wearing these I'm-still-young!-you-can-love-me! gowns to the award shows we all have to suffer the rage that is. I wish someone would wrap their hands around her neck and strangle her. Maybe it's time for another mental breakdown.
Paris Hilton is a glorified stick figure. I've drawn things that look better than her.
Anna Nicole Smith is fighting to get that settlement from her dead husband. He left her like eighty mil or something like that. GIVE IT TO HER!! She had to fuck that fat nigga, throw her a bone. As a matter of fact, don't. She doesn't need to eat anything else. Give her the money so she can get some clothes that fit. You lost weight, great. You're still not Pam Anderson.
Shakira, Shakira, Shakira. I love the hip thing, thinking about doing it for Christmas. But I've never seen her in anything but in/organic products. Paint, dirt, mud, you can't see what she's wearing through the sludge.
Lindsay Lohan never wore anything memorable. I remember, literally, zero good outfits. I do wish she would put the weight back on so she could actually fit into some of said clothes.
Renee Zellweger thought she could get off the list because she was in that kick-ass movie Cold Mountain and because she split up with Kenny Chesney. No such luck sweetie. Now I love her just as much as the next but she really does make some bad choices when it comes to clothing.
Does anyone notice that he forgot Beyonce and Ciara? Honey, it's been past time for you to stop wearing the clothes your mother makes, she knows nothing about fashion. And you, leave the I-work-for-food look at home in the gutter where it belongs. She looks like a freakin refugee ALL THE TIME. Like she's the spokesmodel for the Katrina House of Fashions or something. Bow Wow, you wanna handle that?
*Note: The above comment was in no way intended to jab at or make fun of the victims of the devastating hurricane that destroyed much of Louisiana late last year. My strongest and most heartfelt condolences to each and every family adversely affected by this tragedy.)

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

...Ain't Gold (Part Seventeen)

Darnell Knightley had been in prison for three years of a five-year sentence, as part of a plea-bargain. He pleaded guilty to breaking and entering and they dropped the sentence from ten to five.
Rich hated going to see his brother in jail. It was like going to see an animal in a zoo; you could look and admire, but never could you touch. Rich hurt knowing his baby brother was on the inside where anything could happen.
Darnell had always been smart, coming up with get money quick schemes when they were younger. They had always paid off. But shortly after that, he concocted a wild one that Rich wasn’t down with. Darnell and some of his buck wild friends planned to rob some people at a house party in Long Island. The plan was to wait until everyone left, get back in and steal whatever they could carry. His friends bailed on him when the couple awoke and found Darnell in their bedroom. He took the rap and they took to the streets. Darnell still stolidly kept silent about their identities, knowing the street code of death before dishonor would catch up if he ratted them out.
“Hey, lil bro.” The brothers touched fists to the glass. Darnell was two years younger than Rich, but harsh times in prison had aged him. He looked thirty. They had similar features, the same jaw and facial structure, but only Rich and Simone inherited the hazel eyes from their father. Darnell’s hawk eyes were from their mother’s side.
“What’s hood, Rich?”
“Everything’s everything, son. How they treatin you up in here?”
Darnell looked away and scratched his head before answering. “Ain't shit up in here, Rich. Niggas respect 'cuz they know you my blood, but-man, shit is crazy up in here. Seen a nigga get stabbed in his back the other day. Fuckin blood got everywhere. I’m just tryna survive.”
Rich nodded.

“Fuck me," Darnell said. "What’s up wit you? Shit ain't pretty on the block, I hear.”
“You know. I’m still money makin Rich. Ain't shit change.”
“Yeah, I appreciate it man, you know, my commissary and shit.”
“You know I got you, kid. I ain't doin nothin I ain't s’posed to do. You my blood.”
Darnell looked around him, like he wanted no one to hear what he was about to say. Then he leaned forward and looked Rich in his eye. “It’s some big things about to go down in a lil while. I don’t really know who’s down with what, but I know shit might get critical in the hood. Just be careful.”
Rich nodded. He knew if Darnell said it, it was true. Prison was like Eyewitness News. They usually knew what was going on inside before the outsiders knew.

"What you know?"
"I know all about that shit wit Prage and Maxell," Darnell said quietly.
Rich smiled, his dimples showing. Damn, word really did get around. If his brother knew what was up, Maxell most certainly knew.
Darnell smiled and leaned back. “So who's the lucky ho this week?”

Rich laughed. Darnell was jealous and used to call Rich the Bishop on account of all the females he used to bring around when he was home. He shook his head.
“Nah, man. I got me a shorty now.”
“So I've heard. What’s her name?”
“Nicole. You know that nigga Stretch got a girl named Nicole too.”
Rich scratched his chin, then rubbed his beard thoughtfully. He wondered if that was coincidence.

"Did you hit it yet?"
For the first time in life he felt uncomfortable answering that question. He did anyway. “You know I did.”
“Damn. So you sweet on her then?”
“How long you been seein her?”
“Bout six months.”
“Damn, Rich."

"Damn? Why everybody tyrna play a nigga like he can't get him a shorty and be straight with it?"
Darnell smiled and scratched his head. “Cuz we know you betta, Bishop. Ya’ll serious?”
“Yeah. I ain't seein nobody else.”
“You ain't?” Darnell asked in disbelief. Who was this cat?
“Nah man. I love that girl.”

Darnell pulled the phone away from his ear, gave Rich a quizzical glance and put it back to his head. “When you find my brother, you tell him to come holla at me cuz I don’t know you, nigga.”

Maxell laid five stacks of money in front of Mookie. Mookie flipped through them, sniffing the green bills as if the monetary aromatherapy would silence the butterflies in his gut. He had seen this much money yes, but only going into Rich's safes. Never in his hand did he hold this much cash at one time.
"Now you're telling me you can take them both out."
"That's what I'm telling you."
"If you fuck this up Mookie, so help me," Maxell started.
"I won't, alright? I won't. It'll be done."

"And what did you tell him?"
"I told him I could do it."
"How much did he pay you?"
"One now, three when its done."
"He's giving you four hundred thousand dollars? Shit, I should have jumped on it hen."
"Too late."
"And Shadow?"
Mookie made a gun with his fingers and mouthed 'bang, bang.'
"After tonight? She won't be a problem."
MusixZone Harlem: Diary of a Summer
Listen to this album
Listen : Jim Jones , Harlem: Diary of a Summer
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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