Monday, June 08, 2009
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Friday, June 05, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Monday, May 05, 2008
CVS Is Trying To Kill Me...
Well maybe not literally but they are certainly trying to give my liver a workout. For the past month or so CVS has had a sale on some of the more obscure Barcardi flavors. Big Apple and O to be specific. Big Apple is, of course, apple and O is Orange flavor. And this isn't just any sale. This is a sale that is completely absurd. Ludicrous. Insane actually. Seriously, for a 750ml bottle to be $3.67 is ri-goddamn-diculous, as John Wayne would say. If I had listened to Dat I would have stocked up on several bottles. As it stands I only picked up a couple bottles. A week.
The party's over though as I went this week and they were all out. It was still on sale though they just didn't have any more. But I did get some Captain Morgan's Coconut Rum for 9 bucks. But after $4 bottles of Bacardi it's just not quite the same. I figure they must be clearing out there old stock or something. But it was fun while it lasted...
The party's over though as I went this week and they were all out. It was still on sale though they just didn't have any more. But I did get some Captain Morgan's Coconut Rum for 9 bucks. But after $4 bottles of Bacardi it's just not quite the same. I figure they must be clearing out there old stock or something. But it was fun while it lasted...
Saturday, April 26, 2008
25 Things that Killed (and are still killing) HIP HOP!
My old roommate SKB sent this to me yesterday. And damn if this wasn't on point. I don't know what blog she got this from (she didn't give credit to anyone) but I had to post it. But for the record, Hip Hop is not dead. If you don't believe me just listen to anything Scarface has done lately. He still spits nothing but straight up fire...
1. The End of the "Event" Album: There was a time when albums encompassed an era that included a look, a feel, and a style that informed an artist's videos and live performances for as long as they (or the label) could squeeze revenue from a project by releasing singles. The "event" album can chiefly be credited to Jacksons Michael and Janet, who have entire timelines built around the idea of a "Thriller Era" or a "Rhythm Nation Era". Nowadays, instead of treating albums as what they are (a collection of songs with one unifying theme) artists are more likely to seek out the most ubiquitous Hip Hop beatmakers of the moment and record over a hundred songs from which to "pick" singles. Also, when you have artists that are too scared to release music with a healthy 3-5 year gap in between, the lines to between albums begin to blur, and the eras become indistinguishable.
2. Big Name Hip Hop Producers: With respect due to the beatmakers that introduce a track with the name of their production imprint, ad-lib all over it, and insert themselves as guest rappers 50% of the time, they overshadow the actual vocalist of a song. We certainly don't begrudge any of them the right to employment, but when an artist has to do an inventory of who produced her project to qualifiy it instead of telling us what the album is about, we have to take exception. Reality check: If you're trying to goad me into a purchasing your album because you have a Pharrell beat on it and I'm a Pharrell fan, then that's the only song I'm buying. Your album has to have legs of its own.
3. Deaths of The Notorious B.I.G. & 2Pac: You can probably draw a direct line from the deaths of Biggie and 'Pac to the current state of Hip Hop. The two of them cultivated a style that even a decade later is re- and misappropriated to the nth. Perhaps if they were still alive, they'd have pushed the genre forward. Or maybe they'd be wack and irrelevant. Hey, at least they died while they were still good.
4. "Neo-Soul": We understand the emergence of the "neo-soul" genre as a response to the growing commercialization of modern R&B. But even the artists lumped into this category began to the see that the term was as much a marketing ploy as the very things they eschewed. The language used to describe these artists ranged from "organic" to "avant garde" and any press materials would claim that he/she looks up to Stevie, Marvin and Donnie. And don't stand too close to the stage lest you get burned by the candles and frankencense! Before long, the audience would be fooled and we would either grow to love or loathe this music, defending the art of its purveyors and loudly wondering why they couldn't move as many units as their mainstream counterparts. Simply put, "neo-soul" has become a term used by people to describe music they respect but would never buy.
5. Reality TV: Aside from the manufactured Pop idols that are struggling to stay signed within their prize contracts, we have to question the motives of Sean Combs, Robin Antin and Missy Elliott, who have all aped the reality television format to generate acts for their own stable of artists. To be sure, reality TV has replaced proper Artist Development as a means for these entrepreneurs to cash in, stroke their egos and embarrass people who, 9 times out of 10, deserve it. Speaking of which, what's O'so Krispie doing?
6. Lazy A&R Departments: Did you know that A&R people are also responsible for Artist Development? Probably not, since these days a newly-signed artist is more likely to be stripped of their identity and given one that falls in step with what's popular or, even worse, none at all. Take Cheri Dennis for example. While her album has a respectable amount of solid R&B tracks, we still don't know who Cheri Dennis is, what sets her apart from everyone else or even what she sounds like. But, she has earned the distinction of being signed to her label for nearly a decade with no album to speak of. Did the A&R department utilize that time by playing Spades? Probably.
7. Scarface and The Untouchables: Okay, rapper, we get it, Scarface and The Untouchables are the greatest movies ever made; your life in celluloid, even. But, if you look close enough, you'll come to learn that you are neither Pacino or De Niro and should stop emulating them by using audio clips from the films in your interludes and the script in your lyrics. Too many of you are still doing this after all these years. Also, tell members of your crew to stop calling themselves "Ness" and "Nitti". Just, please, cut it out.
8. Thugs: Not only do we have "Studio Thugs" that use de Palma films to inform their image (see above) but there's the "Corporate Thug" (robs an artist of his publishing and signs him to a hellified contract he could never fulfill) and the questionable "R&B Thug", which happened somewhere between R. Kelly and Jodeci and continues to this day. Along the way, labels got the bright idea that the way to a woman's heart was by selling drugs and beating up people. Sexy! This trend has also given rise to something else we'll never understand: "R&B Beef", in which two singers talk trash about each other to the media. Unfortunately, this doesn't result in a "sing-off" but pretty much makes everyone involved look kind of retarded.
9. Crime: Between violating probation, not paying child support, being pulled over and caught with an ounce of weed or cocaine, assaulting nail technicians, shooting people, tossing concertgoers off the stage, committing perjury, tax evasion, and urinating on minors, we have to wonder if being a good artist means being a bad citizen.
10. Ringtones: "Real Music Ringtones" were created as a way to distinguish your ringing cellular from someone else's while also bringing you closer to your favorite artist. Unfortunately, the labels realized this was the only way to generate revenue and started making music for the sole purpose of selling ringtones. Now, we have stripped-down keyboard beats and grunts and "yaahhs" instead of lyrics. Is that my cellphone ringing or yours? We'll never know, because we both downloaded Soulja Boy.
11. Lack of Music Programs in Schools: Programs like Garage Band have not only made producers lazy, but undercut the importance of immersing young would-be musicians in music history as well as basic composition. Unless a popular musician was trained in the church, they probably lucked into a contract without knowing how to write, play an instrument, or worse, sing a note.
12. BET (and by extension its corporate owner) is on a mission to not only destroy urban music, but poison the perception of Black people in the process. If we were to use this network as a guide (and people unfortunately do), we would believe that "drug dealer > rapper > pimp" is a logical career path, alcoholic beverages can be used as bodysplash, women of exotic or indeterminate race are the standard of beauty, darker-skinned women are only valuable if they have a big ass and a tiny waist, a person's worth can only be determined by what they drive and what they wear, you ain't sh*t if you're over 30, and a week's worth of debauchery and decadence can be undone with a Sunday marathon of religious programming. It's funny because it's true.
13. The Radio: Used to be, you would turn on the radio and hear a variety of artists with a variety of sounds. But due to the "Clear Channeling" of Urban Radio, you'll hear a T-Pain song followed by 15 minutes of commercials, followed by a song featuring T-Pain, some shucking and jiving by unbearable radio personalities for five minutes, then something that resembles a T-Pain song, but isn't because just about everyone sounds like T-Pain now. And it's probably a commercial.
14. Spineless Club DJs: If you're going out to a club, you might as well sit in the house and blast the radio instead of paying the inflated cover charge. Once upon a time, DJs were tastemakers, but now so many of them are afraid they'll clear the floor by spinning something new that they just play album versions of songs people are tired of but are too drunk to notice. Then, they add insult to injury by showing off their "skills" with poorly-timed scratches, blends that don't line up and screaming over the music. And consider yourself lucky if you happen upon a DJ with ACTUAL! VINYL! RECORDS!
15. Mainstream Hip Hop Publications: Back in the 90's, holding one of these rags in your hands was like holding a monthly Bible to all things Hip Hop and R&B. Now, they've all been relegated to chasing blogs and reiterating things we already knew weeks ahead instead of properly utilizing the print medium to do something unique. Changes in personnel and ownership aside, they were already marching towards irrelevance. Even the covers suck now, but you probably won't get the damn thing delivered on time in order to find out.
16. Bloggers: Guilty as charged! Trifle few of us are qualified to be writing about music with any authority, especially since most of the people behind blogs haven't been alive long enough to have a healthy perspective on the subject. Although it can be argued that record companies rely on blogs for buzz, most of the music championed by popular websites is the same music that would've gotten attention anyway. Also, we have to point out that the commenting system has turned discussions about music into an unholy war of "haters" versus "stans", where everyone is an expert on what they hate or love, but have no concept of anything else including real life. Oh, and providing your readers with the URL to full album leaks doesn't "help" the artist.
17. Youtube & Myspace: On the Internet, everyone is a star (thank you, thank you). But while sites like Myspace and Youtube can provide mainstream and indie musicians with a means of cultivating and connecting with an audience, it becomes a chore to sort through the muck of people with a webcam and a login classifying themselves as "artists". And damn you all to Hell for having the crap you made in Grandma's basement on auto-play.
18. Singing Rappers, Acting Rappers & Rapping Athletes: We'll keep this short. Every now and then you'll happen upon someone that has been able to organically transition from one career to another. Will and Latifah come to mind. To everyone else (coughCurtiscough), stay in your lane. Again, we don't begrudge anyone the chance to make some extra ends; it just shouldn't be at the expense of the audience.
19. The End of Real Singing Groups: Once upon a time, you not only had singing groups that weren't put together by a reality show, but wherein each member contributed a distinct voice or purpose to the group. Sometimes they had members that barely sang a note, but who actually produced or wrote the song. Point is, throwing a bunch of strangers in a house with one phone and giving them makeovers doesn't create synergy. Also, name a recent singing group that wasn't created for a television show or for the purpose of launching someone's solo career. Exactly.
20. "Kanyitis" is a temporary, yet frequent, illness that afflicts singers and rappers alike, wherein an artist waits until the precise moment they are in front of a camera, microphone or reporter to say something shocking and stupid, which will then be quoted by bloggers and searched on Youtube ad nauseum. Then the artist has to explain what they "really" meant, but by that time everyone already thinks they're nuts and doesn't care about a retraction.
21. Death of Aaliyah: Not that Aaliyah took an entire genre of music with her to the grave, but it can be argued that her passing made way for a wave of young, pretty dancers with okay voices and no personality. Only difference between them and Aaliyah is, Aaliyah had personality along with talent, ideas and a willingness to experiment. Also, she wasn't so full of herself.
22. Money: Even worse than artists releasing garbage because they know it sells is the audience's obsession with how much an artist makes. Unfortunately, we've given lack of artistry a pass because someone's "making that paper", which totally undermines the hard work of true creative talents that are constantly writing, recording, and performing. When I buy an album I don't want to hear an entrepreneur, which brings us to--
23. Products & Brands: Whether rappers and singers are inserting the names of designer alcoholic beverages into their lyrics or cable companies are inserting rappers and singers in their ad campaigns, things come to a point where we need to start realizing how owned these artists are. There's a thin line between businessperson and corporate slave. We'd also like to reiterate a fact that has been pointed out time and time again over the past 10 years: If you can't pronounce it, why should we care that you're wearing it, driving it, or drinking it?
24. People That Aren't in Any Way Associated with Music: Opportunities in the industry are built on connections and there's almost never been a time when someone didn't rise to stardom on someone else's coattails. But now, things have gotten way out of hand. Why be an actual artist when you can be someone that danced in videos, screwed a bunch of rappers and got a book deal? Or, you can be a butler or Executive In Charge of Umbrella-Carrying? Or, worse, be the "Fifth Mic" guy on stage and reliable instigator? Who needs a recording studio?
25. Teenagers: Young people have always had the power to determine trends in all genres of music, which is why corporations defer to them. However, today's teenagers seem to be slightly more insipid than they were in previous generations and definitely have a shorter attention span. Whether it's the teens themselves driving the garbage labels are releasing, or the labels that are leading teens down a path of ignorance, is totally up for debate. It's the chicken/egg question in its purest form.
1. The End of the "Event" Album: There was a time when albums encompassed an era that included a look, a feel, and a style that informed an artist's videos and live performances for as long as they (or the label) could squeeze revenue from a project by releasing singles. The "event" album can chiefly be credited to Jacksons Michael and Janet, who have entire timelines built around the idea of a "Thriller Era" or a "Rhythm Nation Era". Nowadays, instead of treating albums as what they are (a collection of songs with one unifying theme) artists are more likely to seek out the most ubiquitous Hip Hop beatmakers of the moment and record over a hundred songs from which to "pick" singles. Also, when you have artists that are too scared to release music with a healthy 3-5 year gap in between, the lines to between albums begin to blur, and the eras become indistinguishable.
2. Big Name Hip Hop Producers: With respect due to the beatmakers that introduce a track with the name of their production imprint, ad-lib all over it, and insert themselves as guest rappers 50% of the time, they overshadow the actual vocalist of a song. We certainly don't begrudge any of them the right to employment, but when an artist has to do an inventory of who produced her project to qualifiy it instead of telling us what the album is about, we have to take exception. Reality check: If you're trying to goad me into a purchasing your album because you have a Pharrell beat on it and I'm a Pharrell fan, then that's the only song I'm buying. Your album has to have legs of its own.
3. Deaths of The Notorious B.I.G. & 2Pac: You can probably draw a direct line from the deaths of Biggie and 'Pac to the current state of Hip Hop. The two of them cultivated a style that even a decade later is re- and misappropriated to the nth. Perhaps if they were still alive, they'd have pushed the genre forward. Or maybe they'd be wack and irrelevant. Hey, at least they died while they were still good.
4. "Neo-Soul": We understand the emergence of the "neo-soul" genre as a response to the growing commercialization of modern R&B. But even the artists lumped into this category began to the see that the term was as much a marketing ploy as the very things they eschewed. The language used to describe these artists ranged from "organic" to "avant garde" and any press materials would claim that he/she looks up to Stevie, Marvin and Donnie. And don't stand too close to the stage lest you get burned by the candles and frankencense! Before long, the audience would be fooled and we would either grow to love or loathe this music, defending the art of its purveyors and loudly wondering why they couldn't move as many units as their mainstream counterparts. Simply put, "neo-soul" has become a term used by people to describe music they respect but would never buy.
5. Reality TV: Aside from the manufactured Pop idols that are struggling to stay signed within their prize contracts, we have to question the motives of Sean Combs, Robin Antin and Missy Elliott, who have all aped the reality television format to generate acts for their own stable of artists. To be sure, reality TV has replaced proper Artist Development as a means for these entrepreneurs to cash in, stroke their egos and embarrass people who, 9 times out of 10, deserve it. Speaking of which, what's O'so Krispie doing?
6. Lazy A&R Departments: Did you know that A&R people are also responsible for Artist Development? Probably not, since these days a newly-signed artist is more likely to be stripped of their identity and given one that falls in step with what's popular or, even worse, none at all. Take Cheri Dennis for example. While her album has a respectable amount of solid R&B tracks, we still don't know who Cheri Dennis is, what sets her apart from everyone else or even what she sounds like. But, she has earned the distinction of being signed to her label for nearly a decade with no album to speak of. Did the A&R department utilize that time by playing Spades? Probably.
7. Scarface and The Untouchables: Okay, rapper, we get it, Scarface and The Untouchables are the greatest movies ever made; your life in celluloid, even. But, if you look close enough, you'll come to learn that you are neither Pacino or De Niro and should stop emulating them by using audio clips from the films in your interludes and the script in your lyrics. Too many of you are still doing this after all these years. Also, tell members of your crew to stop calling themselves "Ness" and "Nitti". Just, please, cut it out.
8. Thugs: Not only do we have "Studio Thugs" that use de Palma films to inform their image (see above) but there's the "Corporate Thug" (robs an artist of his publishing and signs him to a hellified contract he could never fulfill) and the questionable "R&B Thug", which happened somewhere between R. Kelly and Jodeci and continues to this day. Along the way, labels got the bright idea that the way to a woman's heart was by selling drugs and beating up people. Sexy! This trend has also given rise to something else we'll never understand: "R&B Beef", in which two singers talk trash about each other to the media. Unfortunately, this doesn't result in a "sing-off" but pretty much makes everyone involved look kind of retarded.
9. Crime: Between violating probation, not paying child support, being pulled over and caught with an ounce of weed or cocaine, assaulting nail technicians, shooting people, tossing concertgoers off the stage, committing perjury, tax evasion, and urinating on minors, we have to wonder if being a good artist means being a bad citizen.
10. Ringtones: "Real Music Ringtones" were created as a way to distinguish your ringing cellular from someone else's while also bringing you closer to your favorite artist. Unfortunately, the labels realized this was the only way to generate revenue and started making music for the sole purpose of selling ringtones. Now, we have stripped-down keyboard beats and grunts and "yaahhs" instead of lyrics. Is that my cellphone ringing or yours? We'll never know, because we both downloaded Soulja Boy.
11. Lack of Music Programs in Schools: Programs like Garage Band have not only made producers lazy, but undercut the importance of immersing young would-be musicians in music history as well as basic composition. Unless a popular musician was trained in the church, they probably lucked into a contract without knowing how to write, play an instrument, or worse, sing a note.
12. BET (and by extension its corporate owner) is on a mission to not only destroy urban music, but poison the perception of Black people in the process. If we were to use this network as a guide (and people unfortunately do), we would believe that "drug dealer > rapper > pimp" is a logical career path, alcoholic beverages can be used as bodysplash, women of exotic or indeterminate race are the standard of beauty, darker-skinned women are only valuable if they have a big ass and a tiny waist, a person's worth can only be determined by what they drive and what they wear, you ain't sh*t if you're over 30, and a week's worth of debauchery and decadence can be undone with a Sunday marathon of religious programming. It's funny because it's true.
13. The Radio: Used to be, you would turn on the radio and hear a variety of artists with a variety of sounds. But due to the "Clear Channeling" of Urban Radio, you'll hear a T-Pain song followed by 15 minutes of commercials, followed by a song featuring T-Pain, some shucking and jiving by unbearable radio personalities for five minutes, then something that resembles a T-Pain song, but isn't because just about everyone sounds like T-Pain now. And it's probably a commercial.
14. Spineless Club DJs: If you're going out to a club, you might as well sit in the house and blast the radio instead of paying the inflated cover charge. Once upon a time, DJs were tastemakers, but now so many of them are afraid they'll clear the floor by spinning something new that they just play album versions of songs people are tired of but are too drunk to notice. Then, they add insult to injury by showing off their "skills" with poorly-timed scratches, blends that don't line up and screaming over the music. And consider yourself lucky if you happen upon a DJ with ACTUAL! VINYL! RECORDS!
15. Mainstream Hip Hop Publications: Back in the 90's, holding one of these rags in your hands was like holding a monthly Bible to all things Hip Hop and R&B. Now, they've all been relegated to chasing blogs and reiterating things we already knew weeks ahead instead of properly utilizing the print medium to do something unique. Changes in personnel and ownership aside, they were already marching towards irrelevance. Even the covers suck now, but you probably won't get the damn thing delivered on time in order to find out.
16. Bloggers: Guilty as charged! Trifle few of us are qualified to be writing about music with any authority, especially since most of the people behind blogs haven't been alive long enough to have a healthy perspective on the subject. Although it can be argued that record companies rely on blogs for buzz, most of the music championed by popular websites is the same music that would've gotten attention anyway. Also, we have to point out that the commenting system has turned discussions about music into an unholy war of "haters" versus "stans", where everyone is an expert on what they hate or love, but have no concept of anything else including real life. Oh, and providing your readers with the URL to full album leaks doesn't "help" the artist.
17. Youtube & Myspace: On the Internet, everyone is a star (thank you, thank you). But while sites like Myspace and Youtube can provide mainstream and indie musicians with a means of cultivating and connecting with an audience, it becomes a chore to sort through the muck of people with a webcam and a login classifying themselves as "artists". And damn you all to Hell for having the crap you made in Grandma's basement on auto-play.
18. Singing Rappers, Acting Rappers & Rapping Athletes: We'll keep this short. Every now and then you'll happen upon someone that has been able to organically transition from one career to another. Will and Latifah come to mind. To everyone else (coughCurtiscough), stay in your lane. Again, we don't begrudge anyone the chance to make some extra ends; it just shouldn't be at the expense of the audience.
19. The End of Real Singing Groups: Once upon a time, you not only had singing groups that weren't put together by a reality show, but wherein each member contributed a distinct voice or purpose to the group. Sometimes they had members that barely sang a note, but who actually produced or wrote the song. Point is, throwing a bunch of strangers in a house with one phone and giving them makeovers doesn't create synergy. Also, name a recent singing group that wasn't created for a television show or for the purpose of launching someone's solo career. Exactly.
20. "Kanyitis" is a temporary, yet frequent, illness that afflicts singers and rappers alike, wherein an artist waits until the precise moment they are in front of a camera, microphone or reporter to say something shocking and stupid, which will then be quoted by bloggers and searched on Youtube ad nauseum. Then the artist has to explain what they "really" meant, but by that time everyone already thinks they're nuts and doesn't care about a retraction.
21. Death of Aaliyah: Not that Aaliyah took an entire genre of music with her to the grave, but it can be argued that her passing made way for a wave of young, pretty dancers with okay voices and no personality. Only difference between them and Aaliyah is, Aaliyah had personality along with talent, ideas and a willingness to experiment. Also, she wasn't so full of herself.
22. Money: Even worse than artists releasing garbage because they know it sells is the audience's obsession with how much an artist makes. Unfortunately, we've given lack of artistry a pass because someone's "making that paper", which totally undermines the hard work of true creative talents that are constantly writing, recording, and performing. When I buy an album I don't want to hear an entrepreneur, which brings us to--
23. Products & Brands: Whether rappers and singers are inserting the names of designer alcoholic beverages into their lyrics or cable companies are inserting rappers and singers in their ad campaigns, things come to a point where we need to start realizing how owned these artists are. There's a thin line between businessperson and corporate slave. We'd also like to reiterate a fact that has been pointed out time and time again over the past 10 years: If you can't pronounce it, why should we care that you're wearing it, driving it, or drinking it?
24. People That Aren't in Any Way Associated with Music: Opportunities in the industry are built on connections and there's almost never been a time when someone didn't rise to stardom on someone else's coattails. But now, things have gotten way out of hand. Why be an actual artist when you can be someone that danced in videos, screwed a bunch of rappers and got a book deal? Or, you can be a butler or Executive In Charge of Umbrella-Carrying? Or, worse, be the "Fifth Mic" guy on stage and reliable instigator? Who needs a recording studio?
25. Teenagers: Young people have always had the power to determine trends in all genres of music, which is why corporations defer to them. However, today's teenagers seem to be slightly more insipid than they were in previous generations and definitely have a shorter attention span. Whether it's the teens themselves driving the garbage labels are releasing, or the labels that are leading teens down a path of ignorance, is totally up for debate. It's the chicken/egg question in its purest form.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
I use to think that I wasn't fine enough...
"I use to think that I wasn't fine enough..." - Love by Keyshia Cole
That's not exactly true. I still don't think I am particularly fine enough but that's a whole other conversation. Forget for a minute that it has been some months. Please do, because I expressed how this happens in A Theory of Time, so cut me so slack. Forget for a minute that I have been contemplating blogs for months now. Forget for a minute that last year I ran into Martin Landau at my ghetto ass post office picking up a package. Seriously, I gave him the head nod and everything. This is the surreal stuff that happens to me. So just for a minute, forget that it has been some months and bear with me...
So, almost a couple weeks ago I had a weird moment. I meant to blog about it but as you know some times time itself seems to slip by me. I was at a local Subway recently when I ran across this girl that seemed familiar to me. I don't know why exactly but there was something about her. Initially I thought it was because she reminded me of the chick that plays Jo from Eureka. However, after watching the latest episode of CSI: NY I realized that the Subway chick was a dead ringer for Detective Angel only shorter, latina and marginally thicker. If Detective Angel is 5'7" and a size 2 (I'm just guessing here folks) then subway chick was 5'3" and a size 4. But believe me when I tell you she looked just like her only with a bigger booty. It was weird cause I kept thinking, "why do I know this chick?" the whole time I was there. Truth is I didn't know her exactly she just looked like the CSI chick. Which is odd enough in an of itself.
Which brings me to the point of this post. So I walk in to Subway and I noticed its a little different. You walk all the way to the back to place your order then move to the front as they make your sandwich. Ok, no big deal. I move to take my place at the end of the line and notice that Detective Angel chick is in front of me. Short but curvy with a juicy little booty, hair down her back (more accurately probably just below her shoulders) and seemingly familiar. I'm waiting in line to place my order trying not to stare. I do notice her but I don't want to be obnoxious. She apparently ordered a foot long chicken and they were making it for her when one of the chicks that worked there finally asked me what I wanted. I was getting the chicken teriyaki so they got the bread and got the meat to put in the microwave when I noticed Detective Angel chick looked over at me and smiled. I gave her my usual "I noticed your smile smirk" look and tried not to stare. Because quite frankly, the chick that plays Detective Angel is fine as hell. And as this chick looked just like her (seriously she could have been her latin sister) I was trying not to sweat her. So after that first smile I started looking at the menu and literally a voice in my head told me not to try and talk to her. Seriously, even though I was completely attracted to this chick something was telling me to let it go. So then of course that's when it got kinda weird.
See as I was standing there next to her looking at the menu, listening to the voice in my head telling me not to actually talk to this chick, as I tried not to pay attention to her, is when they fucked up her order. So of course she looks at me like, "what the fuck." I gave her the half smirk and the "hey what can you do" shoulder shrug. She wanted salt & pepper but they gave her what ever was in some other shaker they had there. If I had to guess it was oregano. She explains this to them and then looks at me again as if she was looking for confirmation that she was right with a look that says, "unbelievable." So I give her a side eye shoulder shrug that says, "hey you know how it goes." Quite honestly since I had that voice telling me not to talk to her I didn't know what else to do. Keep in mind, I was standing there the whole time thinking she was fine as hell. Then I realize that the chick making her sandwich was not too good with english. So the chick making my sandwich started trying to fix Detective Angel chicks sandwich. She basically tells the subway chick that her sandwich looks disgusting and that she needs to start over. Subway chick users her plastic gloved hand to wipe all the toppings off of Detective Angels sandwich and again Angel looks at me like, "WTF." Again I give her her the smirk and the shoulder shrug like, "hey what can you do." She shakes her head and returns her attention to the subway chick making her sandwich. Now the original chick that was making her sandwich starts making mine. Even though she seems to have some issues with english she finishes my sandwich with no problems. Detective Angel gets her sandwich and pays for it before mine is finished and goes to sit down near the entrance. So of course I notice she sits with some guy and a little boy right by the entrance. My mind then tells me that is why it didn't want me to talk to her. So they finish my sandwich and I head out.
On the way I out, of course Detective Angel chick is sitting right by the door. Right across from little man and big man. So naturally as I am heading for the door she decides to get up, for what ever reason. As I have to pass her I look at her and she looks at me with the same awkward, "what the hell was that" look. I give her the raised eyebrow, "phew, glad that's over" look. And I leave without further incident.
Here is the thing. If I hadn't had that thought like I shouldn't try to talk to her I probably wouldn't have even given this much thought. But as it turns out I couldn't help but wonder what the hell that was about. Cause I'm pretty oblivious when it comes to flirting. If a chick doesn't make it painfully obvious then I don't usually even consider it as a viable possibility. But as I told Brooklyn about this after it happened, she seemed to think that maybe there might have been some mild flirtation going on there. If only because she kept looking at me for reassurance. As for me I was mostly oblivious and as I needed a hair cut I tried not to even give it much thought. But as I am writing this post you can see I did think about it. Mostly because I had the thought to not talk to her. Considering she was there with what was potentially her boyfriend/husband and son it is probably a good thing I didn't. I certainly don't need the rejection right now. Brooklyn has me convinced that it might not have been as bad as I thought. Considering my luck it seems appropriate that I would, run across a fine ass chick that I am attracted that would give me a second look, at the Subway while she was with her man and her son. That's just the kind of luck that I have. Before talking to Brook I was just thinking it might have been a weird awkward moment. I was going to post that to get the opinion of the Blogoverse. But now I wonder if maybe... just maybe all this working out I have been doing might be paying off. Just a little bit at least. I mean Detective Angel is fine as hell. And if her twin was even remotely looking at me as if might have been, kinda cute... well that would just make my month. But then again I am easy to please. That or I am a more lonely bastard than I care to admit. Either way I got smiled at by a fine as chick. And I can't be mad at that. Can I?
That's not exactly true. I still don't think I am particularly fine enough but that's a whole other conversation. Forget for a minute that it has been some months. Please do, because I expressed how this happens in A Theory of Time, so cut me so slack. Forget for a minute that I have been contemplating blogs for months now. Forget for a minute that last year I ran into Martin Landau at my ghetto ass post office picking up a package. Seriously, I gave him the head nod and everything. This is the surreal stuff that happens to me. So just for a minute, forget that it has been some months and bear with me...
So, almost a couple weeks ago I had a weird moment. I meant to blog about it but as you know some times time itself seems to slip by me. I was at a local Subway recently when I ran across this girl that seemed familiar to me. I don't know why exactly but there was something about her. Initially I thought it was because she reminded me of the chick that plays Jo from Eureka. However, after watching the latest episode of CSI: NY I realized that the Subway chick was a dead ringer for Detective Angel only shorter, latina and marginally thicker. If Detective Angel is 5'7" and a size 2 (I'm just guessing here folks) then subway chick was 5'3" and a size 4. But believe me when I tell you she looked just like her only with a bigger booty. It was weird cause I kept thinking, "why do I know this chick?" the whole time I was there. Truth is I didn't know her exactly she just looked like the CSI chick. Which is odd enough in an of itself.
Which brings me to the point of this post. So I walk in to Subway and I noticed its a little different. You walk all the way to the back to place your order then move to the front as they make your sandwich. Ok, no big deal. I move to take my place at the end of the line and notice that Detective Angel chick is in front of me. Short but curvy with a juicy little booty, hair down her back (more accurately probably just below her shoulders) and seemingly familiar. I'm waiting in line to place my order trying not to stare. I do notice her but I don't want to be obnoxious. She apparently ordered a foot long chicken and they were making it for her when one of the chicks that worked there finally asked me what I wanted. I was getting the chicken teriyaki so they got the bread and got the meat to put in the microwave when I noticed Detective Angel chick looked over at me and smiled. I gave her my usual "I noticed your smile smirk" look and tried not to stare. Because quite frankly, the chick that plays Detective Angel is fine as hell. And as this chick looked just like her (seriously she could have been her latin sister) I was trying not to sweat her. So after that first smile I started looking at the menu and literally a voice in my head told me not to try and talk to her. Seriously, even though I was completely attracted to this chick something was telling me to let it go. So then of course that's when it got kinda weird.
See as I was standing there next to her looking at the menu, listening to the voice in my head telling me not to actually talk to this chick, as I tried not to pay attention to her, is when they fucked up her order. So of course she looks at me like, "what the fuck." I gave her the half smirk and the "hey what can you do" shoulder shrug. She wanted salt & pepper but they gave her what ever was in some other shaker they had there. If I had to guess it was oregano. She explains this to them and then looks at me again as if she was looking for confirmation that she was right with a look that says, "unbelievable." So I give her a side eye shoulder shrug that says, "hey you know how it goes." Quite honestly since I had that voice telling me not to talk to her I didn't know what else to do. Keep in mind, I was standing there the whole time thinking she was fine as hell. Then I realize that the chick making her sandwich was not too good with english. So the chick making my sandwich started trying to fix Detective Angel chicks sandwich. She basically tells the subway chick that her sandwich looks disgusting and that she needs to start over. Subway chick users her plastic gloved hand to wipe all the toppings off of Detective Angels sandwich and again Angel looks at me like, "WTF." Again I give her her the smirk and the shoulder shrug like, "hey what can you do." She shakes her head and returns her attention to the subway chick making her sandwich. Now the original chick that was making her sandwich starts making mine. Even though she seems to have some issues with english she finishes my sandwich with no problems. Detective Angel gets her sandwich and pays for it before mine is finished and goes to sit down near the entrance. So of course I notice she sits with some guy and a little boy right by the entrance. My mind then tells me that is why it didn't want me to talk to her. So they finish my sandwich and I head out.
On the way I out, of course Detective Angel chick is sitting right by the door. Right across from little man and big man. So naturally as I am heading for the door she decides to get up, for what ever reason. As I have to pass her I look at her and she looks at me with the same awkward, "what the hell was that" look. I give her the raised eyebrow, "phew, glad that's over" look. And I leave without further incident.
Here is the thing. If I hadn't had that thought like I shouldn't try to talk to her I probably wouldn't have even given this much thought. But as it turns out I couldn't help but wonder what the hell that was about. Cause I'm pretty oblivious when it comes to flirting. If a chick doesn't make it painfully obvious then I don't usually even consider it as a viable possibility. But as I told Brooklyn about this after it happened, she seemed to think that maybe there might have been some mild flirtation going on there. If only because she kept looking at me for reassurance. As for me I was mostly oblivious and as I needed a hair cut I tried not to even give it much thought. But as I am writing this post you can see I did think about it. Mostly because I had the thought to not talk to her. Considering she was there with what was potentially her boyfriend/husband and son it is probably a good thing I didn't. I certainly don't need the rejection right now. Brooklyn has me convinced that it might not have been as bad as I thought. Considering my luck it seems appropriate that I would, run across a fine ass chick that I am attracted that would give me a second look, at the Subway while she was with her man and her son. That's just the kind of luck that I have. Before talking to Brook I was just thinking it might have been a weird awkward moment. I was going to post that to get the opinion of the Blogoverse. But now I wonder if maybe... just maybe all this working out I have been doing might be paying off. Just a little bit at least. I mean Detective Angel is fine as hell. And if her twin was even remotely looking at me as if might have been, kinda cute... well that would just make my month. But then again I am easy to please. That or I am a more lonely bastard than I care to admit. Either way I got smiled at by a fine as chick. And I can't be mad at that. Can I?
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Testing Blogging From My Blackberry
In an effort to try and blog more I have setup blogger to receive e-mailed blogs. Hopefully this will work well enough for me to do this more regularly. More often than not it seems I find myself in situations that would be ideal for texting. But as I seem to be the only one of my friends that is actually in to that sort of thing I often wait minutes\hours for a response. If at all that day or period. So, here I am trying something else that will force me to dump my thoughts out there for the world. If not as always I will do what I can.
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Must be something in the air...
Two posts in one month. Must be a blue moon or something. Actually this is mostly just a place holder. Away for me to get the stuff out of my head that I was actually going to blog about but never got around to it. It's my goal to work through each topic piece by piece until they all get posted.
I Must Be Grown Part II
Back in Decemeber I thought I got jipped by a impromtu visit to the eye doctor. Because I spent almost $300 for eye glasses. Again being grown means I just pay for the shit I need rather than wait for things to get worse. Truth is though I didn't get jipped I probably got over or broke even.
I Must Be Grown Part III
I decided to take the plunge last year and seriously search for a house. That's right it was my mission to become a home owner. In California no less. And it worked. I must have looked at 30 houses. My real estate agent and I literally felt like we had adventures during our search. If only because of the crazy shit in peoples homes that we encountered.
The Fuck Am I Doin'...
I went to high school with the twins on the cover of the January issue of Black Enterprise. I literally did a double take after I tossed it on the bed in my studio. "WTF, that looks like Sean and Shane. Oh shit, It is..." And yes I did know them while in HS. We had classes together and graduated the same year. Which makes us all the same age. So yeah I was all so like, "WTF am I doin'...?"
I Must Be Grown Part IV
So it took me three times but I finally found a condo. Three times as in I bid on three places. Burbank (which had an amazing view), Sherman Oaks (but the seller was dick) and finally my current undisclosed location in the SF Valley. Almost bid on another place in SO but I found this place. And then I had to sign docs three times. Felt like I bought 3 places. But that's another story.
The Cost of Ownership
Ok, I didn't know how much blinds cost and I spent way to much. I just didn't know. I paid a copy to install them and everything. Who knew? A life lesson for the future.
People Suck or Postal Problems
There was a weird incident at my local post office. I witnessed most of it but got out of there as quick as I could. Not out of fear or anything severe annoyance. It ended with the lady (the customer) demanding that the police be called she was not leaving until she got an apology from the lady that hung on her on the phone when she called earlier whose name she didn't get. Right. Give me my package, I'm out. If only because I don't want to have to be the one to explain to the police how much of an unreasonable bitch this lady was being.
And then there was guy a week or so later that seemed to be headed in the same direction by demanding a supervisor. Thankfully all I had to do was check my box. I didn't witness enough of this to tell if he was being as ridiculuous as the first lady. But hell I got the impress that that was how it was going down.
Authorized
It's official my poetry book Precious Veyonne Belief is finally available for purchase. You can find it on Lulu, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and problem some other outlets I am completely unaware of. I think I found it on Target once believe it or not. But they are part of the big 'A'. Now if some of you bastards would actuall buy it. I'm so disgussed it with all of you right now.
*SIGH* moving on...
FedEx Sucks Ass
They are just terrible. I did not say when I placed my order that my package could be left at my neighbors. I DID NOT. And I know they are wrong because the guy that brought me package number 3 the next day was headed toward the elevator when he thought I wasn't home. Not my neighbors. Funny how 3 items on the same order prompted 3 deliverys. Two out of three being sent to the neighbors. Lazy bastards just leave me a sticker like UPS so I can pick it up from the delivery center. Bastards...
_____________________________________________________________
Well, so far that's all I got. If I can think of anything else I will post it. Like said I plan telling the stories behind these topics as time go on. Some of them will be longer than others. Some shorter than expected.
Oh, before I forget DatFuule got me thinking about the one white chick I ever went on a date with. Notice I said "date" and not "dated." One date doesn't count as "dated" to me. Damn, she was stacked. I might post about it. I might not. It's only interesting as an example of flakiness and the weird dynamics of a supposed friendship. But anyway. Until next time...
Oh, and I did a colon cleanse back in June. But I should probably save that for The Thanksgiving Project...
I Must Be Grown Part II
Back in Decemeber I thought I got jipped by a impromtu visit to the eye doctor. Because I spent almost $300 for eye glasses. Again being grown means I just pay for the shit I need rather than wait for things to get worse. Truth is though I didn't get jipped I probably got over or broke even.
I Must Be Grown Part III
I decided to take the plunge last year and seriously search for a house. That's right it was my mission to become a home owner. In California no less. And it worked. I must have looked at 30 houses. My real estate agent and I literally felt like we had adventures during our search. If only because of the crazy shit in peoples homes that we encountered.
The Fuck Am I Doin'...
I went to high school with the twins on the cover of the January issue of Black Enterprise. I literally did a double take after I tossed it on the bed in my studio. "WTF, that looks like Sean and Shane. Oh shit, It is..." And yes I did know them while in HS. We had classes together and graduated the same year. Which makes us all the same age. So yeah I was all so like, "WTF am I doin'...?"
I Must Be Grown Part IV
So it took me three times but I finally found a condo. Three times as in I bid on three places. Burbank (which had an amazing view), Sherman Oaks (but the seller was dick) and finally my current undisclosed location in the SF Valley. Almost bid on another place in SO but I found this place. And then I had to sign docs three times. Felt like I bought 3 places. But that's another story.
The Cost of Ownership
Ok, I didn't know how much blinds cost and I spent way to much. I just didn't know. I paid a copy to install them and everything. Who knew? A life lesson for the future.
People Suck or Postal Problems
There was a weird incident at my local post office. I witnessed most of it but got out of there as quick as I could. Not out of fear or anything severe annoyance. It ended with the lady (the customer) demanding that the police be called she was not leaving until she got an apology from the lady that hung on her on the phone when she called earlier whose name she didn't get. Right. Give me my package, I'm out. If only because I don't want to have to be the one to explain to the police how much of an unreasonable bitch this lady was being.
And then there was guy a week or so later that seemed to be headed in the same direction by demanding a supervisor. Thankfully all I had to do was check my box. I didn't witness enough of this to tell if he was being as ridiculuous as the first lady. But hell I got the impress that that was how it was going down.
Authorized
It's official my poetry book Precious Veyonne Belief is finally available for purchase. You can find it on Lulu, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and problem some other outlets I am completely unaware of. I think I found it on Target once believe it or not. But they are part of the big 'A'. Now if some of you bastards would actuall buy it. I'm so disgussed it with all of you right now.
*SIGH* moving on...
FedEx Sucks Ass
They are just terrible. I did not say when I placed my order that my package could be left at my neighbors. I DID NOT. And I know they are wrong because the guy that brought me package number 3 the next day was headed toward the elevator when he thought I wasn't home. Not my neighbors. Funny how 3 items on the same order prompted 3 deliverys. Two out of three being sent to the neighbors. Lazy bastards just leave me a sticker like UPS so I can pick it up from the delivery center. Bastards...
_____________________________________________________________
Well, so far that's all I got. If I can think of anything else I will post it. Like said I plan telling the stories behind these topics as time go on. Some of them will be longer than others. Some shorter than expected.
Oh, before I forget DatFuule got me thinking about the one white chick I ever went on a date with. Notice I said "date" and not "dated." One date doesn't count as "dated" to me. Damn, she was stacked. I might post about it. I might not. It's only interesting as an example of flakiness and the weird dynamics of a supposed friendship. But anyway. Until next time...
Oh, and I did a colon cleanse back in June. But I should probably save that for The Thanksgiving Project...
Blogged with Flock
Thursday, August 09, 2007
A Theory of Time
I know, I know it's been a while. And to add insult to injury (figuratively speaking of course) Datfuule beat me to making a post for 2007. Yeah 8 months in, an I'm making a New Year's blog. Happy '07. But thankfully in talking to Dat and my boy JAB recently I've been able to formulate a more compelling hypothesis for my thoughts on the passage of time.
Initially, since so much has happened since I last blogged, I was going to talk about how the passage of time seems to increase exponentially with age. But as of this past week I at least have a better understanding as to why.
When you are a kid almost everything is new. Or at the very least not so common to you. There is almost always something new to experience so you don't have a frame of reference on the way time passes. Not to mention the fact you almost always are working toward some eventual goal. Mostly with your education. You are trying to graduate from preschool, kindergarten, elementary, high school, etc (of course you have other goals too but I'm trying to keep it simple). Combine that with limited experience things seem to drag on forever. When I was a child I thought 1979 would never end. Consequently high school seemed to last much longer than college. But they were both only 4 years long.
By the time you reach adulthood you have a frame of reference. So a semester or even a year isn't nearly as long as you once perceived it to be. Not to mention that for the most part you don't have the same goals you are working toward. Most 9 to 5ers are working toward the weekend not a summer vacation. Just get through work long enough to make it to the next holiday which, if you are lucky, gives you a 3 to 4 day weekend. You aren't getting that 2 weeks for Christmas. Unless you are really lucky. Plus you are basically doing the same repetitive thing you do day in and day out with only slight variation. Barely any real new knowledge or anything to disrupt your frame of reference. You add all that together and the days seem to fade one into the other and next thing you know it's been almost 2 years since you've been to Seattle. Another 3 since you started a new job and almost 8 since you moved from Atlanta. All broken up by weekends, holidays, random sick days and the occasional week or so of vacation.
Thus as you get older the passage of time gives the appearance of accelerating the older you get. Reminds me of the opposite effect (kinda sorta) in this comic book I read called Invincible. In it the protagonist discovers that he is a half alien with super powers. Think Superman if his father came with him to Earth to start a family with an Earth woman. As a by product of his alien heritage he will age slower the older he gets. As his father put it, "...you will be 500 years old by the time you start looking like you are 30." As human beings we aren't nearly that lucky. Sometimes I don't even think we should be. But considering my theory it might be nice.
I'll be back soon. And I promise it will be a lot sooner than 8 months. No matter how fast time might appear to be moving for us...
Blogged with Flock
Friday, December 15, 2006
I Must Be Grown...
Monday my check engine light came on. After a morning of condo hunting and a trip for groceries I noticed the red glow beckoning my attention. Of course my first thought was "Holy shit I need to get home." Then I thought about the fact that I had a Toyota that has never had problems. Then I realized that after 5 years I was probably about due. So I made the appointment at the dealer for the next day (hey I'm under warranty), took their advice and checked the gas cap (of course screwed on extra tight) and even drove it over a friends house just in case it cleared itself up. Yeah, it didn't.
Up early on Tuesday and of course, the problem is not under warranty. Of course, I was there half the day. And of course, it was about $340 to fix. Merry Christmas. But I figure this must be what it is like being a grownup. Something wrong with your car you fix it. You don't wait for it to get worse. Back in my college days I might have driven until the car stopped running all together. The whole time sweating bullets, pissing my pants, and praying to God to please let me get to where ever I was going. But then I was poor. Like not always sure where the next meal was coming from poor. Deep in debt, bad credit poor. Now I'm good credit broke (still deep in debt I might add). And quite frankly, having already spent about 20 minutes on the 101 in the middle of the night changing a tire by the light of on coming traffic... well let's just say I have no desire to be stranded on the LA freeways. Ever. Day or night. So when presented with the prospect of decreased engine performance, failing a smog inspection, and further damage I sucked it up and paid the price. I suppose for piece of mind... it was a small price to pay.
Up early on Tuesday and of course, the problem is not under warranty. Of course, I was there half the day. And of course, it was about $340 to fix. Merry Christmas. But I figure this must be what it is like being a grownup. Something wrong with your car you fix it. You don't wait for it to get worse. Back in my college days I might have driven until the car stopped running all together. The whole time sweating bullets, pissing my pants, and praying to God to please let me get to where ever I was going. But then I was poor. Like not always sure where the next meal was coming from poor. Deep in debt, bad credit poor. Now I'm good credit broke (still deep in debt I might add). And quite frankly, having already spent about 20 minutes on the 101 in the middle of the night changing a tire by the light of on coming traffic... well let's just say I have no desire to be stranded on the LA freeways. Ever. Day or night. So when presented with the prospect of decreased engine performance, failing a smog inspection, and further damage I sucked it up and paid the price. I suppose for piece of mind... it was a small price to pay.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
EXHIBIT C...
Well it took me a while to get my head together. But as promised here is another tale in the never ending Journey of the man, the myth, Cole Wynter, and his quest to thoroughly infuriate the women in his life.
For this one however, you'll need some back story. See I know this chick in LA that went to my colleges so called rival school in the District of Columbia. Maybe you have heard of it. Rumor has it DatFuule has some associates that are in their employ. I'll let you do the research. But, anyway, I met this chick because she has the exact same name as a chick I dated briefly in college. I found her back when hotmail was all the rage. I did a member search, found her, and sent her a note explaining I was looking for my friend. This girl responded and we have been in touch ever since. For about the better part of a decade. Which means over 5 years but less than 10.
The crazy part about that is how unusual her name is. Far be it for me to put her and myself on blast like that but let's go with a pseudonym for the sake of argument. Let's say the girl I dated in college was named something a little unusual like "Ayame Sivarsky." Let's go with A.S. for short. What are the odds of there being another one anywhere on the planet? Let alone another woman of color, around my age, that attended an HBCU around the time when me and the original A.S. attended school as well. Go figure.
(bear with here a minute I'm still in the setup phase of this one, need to establish a pattern of behavior here)
So, the long and the short of it we talked through e-mails for a while. Then I moved to LA from NoCal and we started chatting on IM and then in '03 we went out on a date. Great time. Dinner movie and lots of quality talk. Until the end. Because apparently by the end of the date I had deeply offended her. Completely by accident. See we were talking and she asked me about my preferences in women. Keep that word PREFERENCES in mind. That's a quote. As a preference I prefer the more petite athletic chicks. Tamia & Jada come to mind. That's a preference not an exclusive thing by any stretch. I might prefer steak and lobster from McCormick & Schmick's (I'll let you do the research) doesn't mean I won't eat McDonald's. And I made that clear as I have dated all sizes of women. And yes I told her this. Though apparently she had stopped listening after "petite & athletic" because I had all kinds of nerve to have such a preference being that I'm a big guy myself. Not super big. But not small. Thing Paul Wall but taller or better yet Ice Cube in Friday. I have since learned that my response should have been my preference is her. Or at least something to that effect. To the guys that maybe reading this let that be a lesson to you if ever you get caught in a similar situation.
Keep in mind dear reader I knew nothing of this until weeks later. As she expressed this to me in an IM after a few attempts were made to go out with her again. All of course were to no avail. So one day she flipped on me about it. Because, of course, I had a lot of nevre to be discriminating. If she had felt that way we might not have even gone out at all. Right. So, naturally, I had to remind her of the other parts of the conversation. Specifically that I have dated women of all shapes and sizes. And that a preference is just that. Something you would prefer given a choice and that doesn't exclude the 2nd, 3rd or 4th choices and so on... So after she thought about it she realized she was not particularly accurate in her assessment and we got passed it. Eventually. It took her a minute. Though admittedly I kept my distance after that. I was not prepared for the strength of her reality distortion field.
(a moment of clarification here, see she is a very attractive woman but not one I would call athletic, though that is how she refers to herself, she teaches aerobics or something and takes decent care of herself, but she is by no means petite no matter how good her self-esteem might be, at the moment someone of comparable size escapes me, she certainly isn't Mo'nique or anything but ain't none of the chick on Girlfriends either)
EXHIBIT C... (for real this time)
So flash forward to the summer of '06. That's right. Just about 3 years since the last time me and A.S. part 2 had our date and misunderstanding. I am back from my trek across the country. And, as I am known to do, I was lamenting the death of Bath & Body Works Seaspray. Best scent ever. Women loved it on me. But since it is gone I was contemplating something new. Found some stuff in some magazines and had a couple I was interested in. While chatting with A.S.2 about this she expressed and interest in helping me find my new scent. Read that as she invited herself shopping with me to do so. Ok, fine. Meet me at this mall, on this day, at this time and its on. Agreed.
Never are such things so simple. Even though the scheduled meeting was over a week away and she was sure she could come the plans changed at minute the last. She called me early in the day (before my wake up time) and asked me to call as she was up late and would be taking a nap. So I wake up, call her back and she still wants to go but under the condition I come get her. *sigh* Ok, fine. Imagine for a minute, all my ATLiens (or atleast those of you familiar with Atlanta), you lived in Buckhead and you were supposed to hang out with someone in Union City. You were going to meet in Midtown. Only now you have to pick them up. It's kinda like that. Particularly, since we had to pick a new place to go to. Basically, I said fuck it and picked her up and we went to some other trendy place in LA, spending most of the afternoon discovering my new cologne. Which is really good by the way. Made by a designer originally from Detroit of all places. I'll let you do the research. And no I didn't know this before hand. So everything appears to be going well.
Of course you know nothing is ever easy with me. So once that was done she wanted to pick up a few things for herself. Cool. Once she is done getting her knickknacks I ask her what she wants to do. Dat, stop me if you've heard this one... So, she in turn asked me what I want to do. It went something like this:
"So what do you want to do know?"
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know. You Hungry?"
"Are you hungry?"
"Not really, I can take it or leave it. You?"
"I can take it or leave it too."
"You aren't hungry?"
"Nah."
"Are you sure? I don't want to leave you out here starving to death."
"Nah."
"Ok..."
"...K"
Fine. Done deal. We walk around the shopping center some more. Strolled through the food court area. Made our way back around, with one stop for her to use the rest room and we were back in the car on my way to drop her off. Did so with no problems. Walked her back to the door. Got a hug. We bothed expressed that it shouldn't be another 3 years before we see each other again and I was off. Cool.
Yeah... right...
So, I get home and after a little while I get on the computer. Naturally, she is on IM and we start to chat. Good to see you again, blah, blah, blah... I ask her what she was doing now and she makes it a point to tell me how she was putting away stuff after she was forced make her own damn eats when she got home. "Ha ha, very funny, if I didn't know better I would think you were serious and had an attitude." Yeah. You see were this is going... Cause she WAS serious. And she DID have an attitude. At this point she gives me the 3rd degree about why we didn't go to dinner. And how it would have been nice and because she was doing me a favor and the day would have lasted longer, yadda, yadda, yadda... Completely forgotting (and rather conviently, I might add) that she told me she wasn't hungry. No less than 3 times. At the time I literally recounted the conversation to her verbatim. And what does she tell me? That's not how she remembered it. Keep in mind folks that the convo above is very close to being actually quoted. I recounted this not only to her but several other people. I even saved my convo with DatFuule about it to be used as a reference (I was so disgusted I neglected to save the actually convo I had with A.S.2). But I digress... when I called her on how she did remember it she couldn't come up with any real specific details other than it was decided we wouldn't get dinner. Even after I went over the conversation several times with her, she was unable to fill in any details of it with "how she remembered it." So eventually she concided that it was a missunderstanding and that she was cool. Because, ultimately, after she had gotten home she wasn't sure why we hadn't gotten dinner. She just needed some clarity as it didn't make sense to her. Ever have one of those moments when you are convinced you slipped into the Twilight Zone? Yeah...
Needless to say we haven't gone out again. We talked about it for a minute after all this cause, let her tell it, she did enjoy seeing me again. And she does actually like me. But, for one, we have different schedules. And, for two, I left the ball in her court. Cool, you wanna hang out again, just let me know when you are free on a Sunday or Monday (my off days). We can go to lunch, dinner or hang out, just let me know. As of this blogging I am still waiting...
I told a female friend about this incident to get another perspective. She basically told me it was stupid because if she had been hungry she would have told me and then we could have ate. This chick is 24 lives in NoCal is considerably cooler/hotter and apparently still has the good sense God gave us all. I didn't tell her this but when she told me that I wished she was the one living in LA. Seriously, I'm getting too old for this shit... Seriously.
For this one however, you'll need some back story. See I know this chick in LA that went to my colleges so called rival school in the District of Columbia. Maybe you have heard of it. Rumor has it DatFuule has some associates that are in their employ. I'll let you do the research. But, anyway, I met this chick because she has the exact same name as a chick I dated briefly in college. I found her back when hotmail was all the rage. I did a member search, found her, and sent her a note explaining I was looking for my friend. This girl responded and we have been in touch ever since. For about the better part of a decade. Which means over 5 years but less than 10.
The crazy part about that is how unusual her name is. Far be it for me to put her and myself on blast like that but let's go with a pseudonym for the sake of argument. Let's say the girl I dated in college was named something a little unusual like "Ayame Sivarsky." Let's go with A.S. for short. What are the odds of there being another one anywhere on the planet? Let alone another woman of color, around my age, that attended an HBCU around the time when me and the original A.S. attended school as well. Go figure.
(bear with here a minute I'm still in the setup phase of this one, need to establish a pattern of behavior here)
So, the long and the short of it we talked through e-mails for a while. Then I moved to LA from NoCal and we started chatting on IM and then in '03 we went out on a date. Great time. Dinner movie and lots of quality talk. Until the end. Because apparently by the end of the date I had deeply offended her. Completely by accident. See we were talking and she asked me about my preferences in women. Keep that word PREFERENCES in mind. That's a quote. As a preference I prefer the more petite athletic chicks. Tamia & Jada come to mind. That's a preference not an exclusive thing by any stretch. I might prefer steak and lobster from McCormick & Schmick's (I'll let you do the research) doesn't mean I won't eat McDonald's. And I made that clear as I have dated all sizes of women. And yes I told her this. Though apparently she had stopped listening after "petite & athletic" because I had all kinds of nerve to have such a preference being that I'm a big guy myself. Not super big. But not small. Thing Paul Wall but taller or better yet Ice Cube in Friday. I have since learned that my response should have been my preference is her. Or at least something to that effect. To the guys that maybe reading this let that be a lesson to you if ever you get caught in a similar situation.
Keep in mind dear reader I knew nothing of this until weeks later. As she expressed this to me in an IM after a few attempts were made to go out with her again. All of course were to no avail. So one day she flipped on me about it. Because, of course, I had a lot of nevre to be discriminating. If she had felt that way we might not have even gone out at all. Right. So, naturally, I had to remind her of the other parts of the conversation. Specifically that I have dated women of all shapes and sizes. And that a preference is just that. Something you would prefer given a choice and that doesn't exclude the 2nd, 3rd or 4th choices and so on... So after she thought about it she realized she was not particularly accurate in her assessment and we got passed it. Eventually. It took her a minute. Though admittedly I kept my distance after that. I was not prepared for the strength of her reality distortion field.
(a moment of clarification here, see she is a very attractive woman but not one I would call athletic, though that is how she refers to herself, she teaches aerobics or something and takes decent care of herself, but she is by no means petite no matter how good her self-esteem might be, at the moment someone of comparable size escapes me, she certainly isn't Mo'nique or anything but ain't none of the chick on Girlfriends either)
EXHIBIT C... (for real this time)
So flash forward to the summer of '06. That's right. Just about 3 years since the last time me and A.S. part 2 had our date and misunderstanding. I am back from my trek across the country. And, as I am known to do, I was lamenting the death of Bath & Body Works Seaspray. Best scent ever. Women loved it on me. But since it is gone I was contemplating something new. Found some stuff in some magazines and had a couple I was interested in. While chatting with A.S.2 about this she expressed and interest in helping me find my new scent. Read that as she invited herself shopping with me to do so. Ok, fine. Meet me at this mall, on this day, at this time and its on. Agreed.
Never are such things so simple. Even though the scheduled meeting was over a week away and she was sure she could come the plans changed at minute the last. She called me early in the day (before my wake up time) and asked me to call as she was up late and would be taking a nap. So I wake up, call her back and she still wants to go but under the condition I come get her. *sigh* Ok, fine. Imagine for a minute, all my ATLiens (or atleast those of you familiar with Atlanta), you lived in Buckhead and you were supposed to hang out with someone in Union City. You were going to meet in Midtown. Only now you have to pick them up. It's kinda like that. Particularly, since we had to pick a new place to go to. Basically, I said fuck it and picked her up and we went to some other trendy place in LA, spending most of the afternoon discovering my new cologne. Which is really good by the way. Made by a designer originally from Detroit of all places. I'll let you do the research. And no I didn't know this before hand. So everything appears to be going well.
Of course you know nothing is ever easy with me. So once that was done she wanted to pick up a few things for herself. Cool. Once she is done getting her knickknacks I ask her what she wants to do. Dat, stop me if you've heard this one... So, she in turn asked me what I want to do. It went something like this:
"So what do you want to do know?"
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know. You Hungry?"
"Are you hungry?"
"Not really, I can take it or leave it. You?"
"I can take it or leave it too."
"You aren't hungry?"
"Nah."
"Are you sure? I don't want to leave you out here starving to death."
"Nah."
"Ok..."
"...K"
Fine. Done deal. We walk around the shopping center some more. Strolled through the food court area. Made our way back around, with one stop for her to use the rest room and we were back in the car on my way to drop her off. Did so with no problems. Walked her back to the door. Got a hug. We bothed expressed that it shouldn't be another 3 years before we see each other again and I was off. Cool.
Yeah... right...
So, I get home and after a little while I get on the computer. Naturally, she is on IM and we start to chat. Good to see you again, blah, blah, blah... I ask her what she was doing now and she makes it a point to tell me how she was putting away stuff after she was forced make her own damn eats when she got home. "Ha ha, very funny, if I didn't know better I would think you were serious and had an attitude." Yeah. You see were this is going... Cause she WAS serious. And she DID have an attitude. At this point she gives me the 3rd degree about why we didn't go to dinner. And how it would have been nice and because she was doing me a favor and the day would have lasted longer, yadda, yadda, yadda... Completely forgotting (and rather conviently, I might add) that she told me she wasn't hungry. No less than 3 times. At the time I literally recounted the conversation to her verbatim. And what does she tell me? That's not how she remembered it. Keep in mind folks that the convo above is very close to being actually quoted. I recounted this not only to her but several other people. I even saved my convo with DatFuule about it to be used as a reference (I was so disgusted I neglected to save the actually convo I had with A.S.2). But I digress... when I called her on how she did remember it she couldn't come up with any real specific details other than it was decided we wouldn't get dinner. Even after I went over the conversation several times with her, she was unable to fill in any details of it with "how she remembered it." So eventually she concided that it was a missunderstanding and that she was cool. Because, ultimately, after she had gotten home she wasn't sure why we hadn't gotten dinner. She just needed some clarity as it didn't make sense to her. Ever have one of those moments when you are convinced you slipped into the Twilight Zone? Yeah...
Needless to say we haven't gone out again. We talked about it for a minute after all this cause, let her tell it, she did enjoy seeing me again. And she does actually like me. But, for one, we have different schedules. And, for two, I left the ball in her court. Cool, you wanna hang out again, just let me know when you are free on a Sunday or Monday (my off days). We can go to lunch, dinner or hang out, just let me know. As of this blogging I am still waiting...
I told a female friend about this incident to get another perspective. She basically told me it was stupid because if she had been hungry she would have told me and then we could have ate. This chick is 24 lives in NoCal is considerably cooler/hotter and apparently still has the good sense God gave us all. I didn't tell her this but when she told me that I wished she was the one living in LA. Seriously, I'm getting too old for this shit... Seriously.
Monday, September 25, 2006
My Special Gift...
Or maybe it's my curse. But I have recently had an epiphany about a very special ability I have. A latent mutant power if you will. The ability to make women go from zero to bitch in under 3 seconds. If I am not mistaken that's better than Ferrari, Lamborghini & Porsche. This is, of course, without so much as even making the attempt to do so, through absolutely no forethought of my own. To quote Richard B Riddick, "how interesting."
I know I promised to talk about crazy LA women, but bear with me. There is an LA chick in this story.
EXHIBIT A
Recently, Brooklyn recommended a book to me. Now, keep in mind, this was several days ago. And when she told me about it I told her that I was adding it to my Amazon wishlist. This, I assumed, would give the impression that it would be ordered at some later date. Or so I thought. Flash forward to today and I awake to find a missed call from her. I call her back and her first question to me is if I bought the book yet. Um, no. And at this point she is not very happy because I had almost a week to buy this brilliant piece of work. The rest of the conversation didn't last long. It ended with her smacking her lips on what ever she was eating and telling me she would call me back when she was done. Now she and I are old friends so I know her tones and inflections. And, more importantly, I know how she is with me. She was not happy. We have since worked out this disagreement. And yes I have purchased the book (for about $8 and some change). Which should go a long way to maintaining harmony in our relationship.
EXHIBIT B
This needs needs some back story. Several months ago my accountant tried to hook me up with this chick he knows. An older asian chick that likes black men and lives in Gardena. As I live in the Valley this has not be conducive to the actual hooking up part. For my folks familiar with the ATL that's like me living in Alpharetta and her living in College Park. Between that and the fact that she isn't particularly interested in guys younger than her (she is 40 and I am 33) our exploits have been confined to the occasional phone conversation and an e-mail every once and a while.
We were supposed to meet up for lunch or dinner or something this afternoon. We talked about this last week. As she would be on vacation from her 2nd job and Monday is my off day we agreed this would be as good a time as any. My job was to pick a place for us to meet. Initially it was to be between the Valley and her place but as time went on it went from that to where ever I wanted to meet at. Even Burbank. Cool. All I had to do was e-mail her the place and she would get directions and go. So, I chose a spot in Burbank and e-mailed her the info. Only to have her e-mail me back her concerns about taking the 5. She wanted me to call her last night after her favorite show (Desperate Housewives, yeah, like you didn't see that coming) so we could talk about it. I forgot. Sue me. My boy VCD came over and having not seen him for weeks we had some brews, kicked it and watched the Venture Bros (one of the funniest shows on TV by the way if you ever get a chance to catch it on Adult Swim). By the time I realized, it was too late to call so I pretty much fucked around and decided something was better than nothing. At around 2am I e-mailed her just that. Told her it was too late to call and that anywhere we went in the afternoon there would probably be traffic. I mean come on people this is LA. And she did tell me she would meet me anywhere.
And so we come to this morning. In addition to Brooklyn's missed call I have an e-mail from this chick as well. Stating that she isn't sure she wants to go know since I didn't call. Ok, at this point I assume she is pissed. And then I see that she called me at some point this morning too. I'm not sure when as I have purged my call data on my phone (I do this from time to time). But suffice it to say the extent of her message was "call me." Of course, I hesitate as I know where this is going. The convo started off well enough and throughout I was calm and rational. But she was pissed because I hadn't call. Period. She didn't care about the reason. She didn't care that she could have called me to remind me. She didn't care that I might not have gotten the e-mail until it was to late. Nothing. I didn't call. She should not have had to call and remind me (or just called after her show was over, I don't fuckin' watch it so how should I know when it's done). Natrually, me being me, I expressed to her that this was drama. And her response was to question whether I could handle it. That, of course, is not the point. It's whether I want to or not. And I said as much. From there I wanted to know what she wanted to do and her response to me was that she didn't think she wanted to go because I had an attitude. Um, yeah. If I didn't before, I do know. Keep in mind I pointed out to her that she was the one that was mad at me. I wasn't mad her and not only that I didn't have an attitude about the situation. So naturally we didn't go. Though she did thank me for calling her back. Now this is a 40 year old woman people. And she had the nerve to ask me again at the being of the conversation how old I was (I say again because she has asked me this before). As if I was somehow being immature (at least in retrospect that is how I took it, it was a very out of the blue question that came from and went nowhere). I wasn't mad. I wasn't even upset. I didn't come at her crazy. I just explained myself and she didn't care. And I'm the one with the attitude? You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me?
And that ladies and gentlemen is the amazing talent God has seen fit to bless me with. Pissing off woman. I know this to be true because I don't have any conflict with my male friends. If only I could get paid off this shit. All it's doing for me know is leaving me dateless. But you know what? As long as I'm drama free, I don't even care...
I know I promised to talk about crazy LA women, but bear with me. There is an LA chick in this story.
EXHIBIT A
Recently, Brooklyn recommended a book to me. Now, keep in mind, this was several days ago. And when she told me about it I told her that I was adding it to my Amazon wishlist. This, I assumed, would give the impression that it would be ordered at some later date. Or so I thought. Flash forward to today and I awake to find a missed call from her. I call her back and her first question to me is if I bought the book yet. Um, no. And at this point she is not very happy because I had almost a week to buy this brilliant piece of work. The rest of the conversation didn't last long. It ended with her smacking her lips on what ever she was eating and telling me she would call me back when she was done. Now she and I are old friends so I know her tones and inflections. And, more importantly, I know how she is with me. She was not happy. We have since worked out this disagreement. And yes I have purchased the book (for about $8 and some change). Which should go a long way to maintaining harmony in our relationship.
EXHIBIT B
This needs needs some back story. Several months ago my accountant tried to hook me up with this chick he knows. An older asian chick that likes black men and lives in Gardena. As I live in the Valley this has not be conducive to the actual hooking up part. For my folks familiar with the ATL that's like me living in Alpharetta and her living in College Park. Between that and the fact that she isn't particularly interested in guys younger than her (she is 40 and I am 33) our exploits have been confined to the occasional phone conversation and an e-mail every once and a while.
We were supposed to meet up for lunch or dinner or something this afternoon. We talked about this last week. As she would be on vacation from her 2nd job and Monday is my off day we agreed this would be as good a time as any. My job was to pick a place for us to meet. Initially it was to be between the Valley and her place but as time went on it went from that to where ever I wanted to meet at. Even Burbank. Cool. All I had to do was e-mail her the place and she would get directions and go. So, I chose a spot in Burbank and e-mailed her the info. Only to have her e-mail me back her concerns about taking the 5. She wanted me to call her last night after her favorite show (Desperate Housewives, yeah, like you didn't see that coming) so we could talk about it. I forgot. Sue me. My boy VCD came over and having not seen him for weeks we had some brews, kicked it and watched the Venture Bros (one of the funniest shows on TV by the way if you ever get a chance to catch it on Adult Swim). By the time I realized, it was too late to call so I pretty much fucked around and decided something was better than nothing. At around 2am I e-mailed her just that. Told her it was too late to call and that anywhere we went in the afternoon there would probably be traffic. I mean come on people this is LA. And she did tell me she would meet me anywhere.
And so we come to this morning. In addition to Brooklyn's missed call I have an e-mail from this chick as well. Stating that she isn't sure she wants to go know since I didn't call. Ok, at this point I assume she is pissed. And then I see that she called me at some point this morning too. I'm not sure when as I have purged my call data on my phone (I do this from time to time). But suffice it to say the extent of her message was "call me." Of course, I hesitate as I know where this is going. The convo started off well enough and throughout I was calm and rational. But she was pissed because I hadn't call. Period. She didn't care about the reason. She didn't care that she could have called me to remind me. She didn't care that I might not have gotten the e-mail until it was to late. Nothing. I didn't call. She should not have had to call and remind me (or just called after her show was over, I don't fuckin' watch it so how should I know when it's done). Natrually, me being me, I expressed to her that this was drama. And her response was to question whether I could handle it. That, of course, is not the point. It's whether I want to or not. And I said as much. From there I wanted to know what she wanted to do and her response to me was that she didn't think she wanted to go because I had an attitude. Um, yeah. If I didn't before, I do know. Keep in mind I pointed out to her that she was the one that was mad at me. I wasn't mad her and not only that I didn't have an attitude about the situation. So naturally we didn't go. Though she did thank me for calling her back. Now this is a 40 year old woman people. And she had the nerve to ask me again at the being of the conversation how old I was (I say again because she has asked me this before). As if I was somehow being immature (at least in retrospect that is how I took it, it was a very out of the blue question that came from and went nowhere). I wasn't mad. I wasn't even upset. I didn't come at her crazy. I just explained myself and she didn't care. And I'm the one with the attitude? You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me?
And that ladies and gentlemen is the amazing talent God has seen fit to bless me with. Pissing off woman. I know this to be true because I don't have any conflict with my male friends. If only I could get paid off this shit. All it's doing for me know is leaving me dateless. But you know what? As long as I'm drama free, I don't even care...
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Speaking of LA... again
I've been meaning to tell y'all about this, but y'all know how I get...
So after my roadtrip I decide that I need to take some clothes to the cleaners. Since I had been living out of a suitcase for 2 weeks it seemed only right. Considering the number of button up shirts I brought that hadn't seen an iron in a while, not to mention my suit, I figured I'd shell out the loot and just get it done. So the day after I arrived I got up early, ok not really, but I did leave early. Though for me that was about 11am. Rarely, do I ever get to that place before 2pm (that place being my favorite cleaners). Especially on a Sunday. But I got up and got it done. No big deal.
Now to the point of the story. On my way home I take the scenic route. Getting off the freeway several miles from my home in order to take the main drag of my communal suburb of LA proper (which for the record still counts as the City of Los Angeles, one giant suburban town I tells ya). If you live in the NoHo area I'll give you one guess as to the name of the street. Here's a guess. It starts with an 'L'. So I'm cruisin' enjoying this bright summer morning in So Cal until I notice one of the more unusual sites I have ever seen in California. On the opposite side of the street is a guy of possibly Mexican decent. He was tan, shirtless, relatively buff, with what appears to be either a weight belt or back brace around his waist. He is riding a mountain bike with no hands, as they are in front of him, one holding the other as though he were giving a speech. He had on a fresh pair of stone khaki's, crisp white gym shoes (maybe K-swiss) with dark black sunglasses and a baseball cap that, if memory serves, matched his pants pulled down on his head. Yeah, the bill He appeared to be staring straight ahead as he rode. Keep in mind I notice this guy several seconds before we passed each other. Mostly because I was wondering why he didn't have a shirt on (it wasn't that hot that day) and then it looked like he was wearing khaki's. And that weird ass weight belt. He could have been in a Gap ad, or more accurately Abercrombie & Fitch. So I noted this interesting site as I drove and would have paid it no mind if not for what happened next. As we were about to pass each other, me in my car, he on the other side of the street on his bike, he appeared to turn his head in my direction and threw up a gang sign. Arms arced on either side of him with has hands contorted into some shape I couldn't describe then and certainly won't try now. How interesting. He didn't appear to have any noticeable tattoos and I can't be certain he was looking at me. But he wasn't menacing about it. It was almost like he was saying "wassup" to a homie. Whether that was me or someone else... who knows. But that definitely was some surreal shit. Had this happened in anywhere else I might have been surprised. But I live in LA. Homeless people have conversations with trash cans outside my office downtown. And besides, I'm from Detroit...
In other uneventfulness in LA a couple weeks ago I an older black man in Bentley gave me the ice grill as I was leaving the Burger King down the street from work. It was a Saturday night and I was picking up some eats for when I got home. I looped around the parking lot and noted how slick this ride was as I was passing it. It had the look of a car that you wanted to be careful around. As I passed the passenger I noticed it was a brotha. Possibly in his mid to late 50's. A big guy. Could have been a former football player or something. But he was definitely pimpin' the whip as though he was in his 20's. Left hand on the wheel leaning to the side with his right hand holding a cell to his ear. And he had a really nice suit on. Now that I think about it in the night light it almost matched the silvery color of the car. Of course I got the cold leery stare as I passed by. Almost like he was saying, "Wassup, nigga." And not in a good way. Since I have been told I look like that naturally I took no offense and paid it no mind. Actually I was just happy to see a brotha pushing a ride like that. More power too him. It almost gave me hope that I could have one one day. Not sure why exactly. I don't know that guy from Adam.
Next time, on A Life More Ordinary: Crazy LA women & the men that try to avoid them... namely me.
So after my roadtrip I decide that I need to take some clothes to the cleaners. Since I had been living out of a suitcase for 2 weeks it seemed only right. Considering the number of button up shirts I brought that hadn't seen an iron in a while, not to mention my suit, I figured I'd shell out the loot and just get it done. So the day after I arrived I got up early, ok not really, but I did leave early. Though for me that was about 11am. Rarely, do I ever get to that place before 2pm (that place being my favorite cleaners). Especially on a Sunday. But I got up and got it done. No big deal.
Now to the point of the story. On my way home I take the scenic route. Getting off the freeway several miles from my home in order to take the main drag of my communal suburb of LA proper (which for the record still counts as the City of Los Angeles, one giant suburban town I tells ya). If you live in the NoHo area I'll give you one guess as to the name of the street. Here's a guess. It starts with an 'L'. So I'm cruisin' enjoying this bright summer morning in So Cal until I notice one of the more unusual sites I have ever seen in California. On the opposite side of the street is a guy of possibly Mexican decent. He was tan, shirtless, relatively buff, with what appears to be either a weight belt or back brace around his waist. He is riding a mountain bike with no hands, as they are in front of him, one holding the other as though he were giving a speech. He had on a fresh pair of stone khaki's, crisp white gym shoes (maybe K-swiss) with dark black sunglasses and a baseball cap that, if memory serves, matched his pants pulled down on his head. Yeah, the bill He appeared to be staring straight ahead as he rode. Keep in mind I notice this guy several seconds before we passed each other. Mostly because I was wondering why he didn't have a shirt on (it wasn't that hot that day) and then it looked like he was wearing khaki's. And that weird ass weight belt. He could have been in a Gap ad, or more accurately Abercrombie & Fitch. So I noted this interesting site as I drove and would have paid it no mind if not for what happened next. As we were about to pass each other, me in my car, he on the other side of the street on his bike, he appeared to turn his head in my direction and threw up a gang sign. Arms arced on either side of him with has hands contorted into some shape I couldn't describe then and certainly won't try now. How interesting. He didn't appear to have any noticeable tattoos and I can't be certain he was looking at me. But he wasn't menacing about it. It was almost like he was saying "wassup" to a homie. Whether that was me or someone else... who knows. But that definitely was some surreal shit. Had this happened in anywhere else I might have been surprised. But I live in LA. Homeless people have conversations with trash cans outside my office downtown. And besides, I'm from Detroit...
In other uneventfulness in LA a couple weeks ago I an older black man in Bentley gave me the ice grill as I was leaving the Burger King down the street from work. It was a Saturday night and I was picking up some eats for when I got home. I looped around the parking lot and noted how slick this ride was as I was passing it. It had the look of a car that you wanted to be careful around. As I passed the passenger I noticed it was a brotha. Possibly in his mid to late 50's. A big guy. Could have been a former football player or something. But he was definitely pimpin' the whip as though he was in his 20's. Left hand on the wheel leaning to the side with his right hand holding a cell to his ear. And he had a really nice suit on. Now that I think about it in the night light it almost matched the silvery color of the car. Of course I got the cold leery stare as I passed by. Almost like he was saying, "Wassup, nigga." And not in a good way. Since I have been told I look like that naturally I took no offense and paid it no mind. Actually I was just happy to see a brotha pushing a ride like that. More power too him. It almost gave me hope that I could have one one day. Not sure why exactly. I don't know that guy from Adam.
Next time, on A Life More Ordinary: Crazy LA women & the men that try to avoid them... namely me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
