Thursday, September 15, 2005


One is the loneliest
Number one is the loneliest
Number one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do...
-- Three Dog Night

As people continually fail to improve on the silence, I am more and more contented in my aloneness.

I grow weary of wasted presences.

I could be very clearly going mad.

Or getting mad clear.


When you see me
Tryin' to do good
It's just Jesus, Jesus in me
It's just Jesus, Jesus in me...
- The Clark Sisters

It's a new level of fat to be 400 pounds and be named after a snack.

I'll be damned if they would call me Twinkie if I was big as shit.

Let me stop.

No, fuhreal, fuhreal.

I should stop.

A new start, and new beginning, and new adventure. That's what I keep telling myself.

Exciting, yet daunting.

I'm tired of starting over though.


Bernadine: I give you 11 fucking years of my life and you're telling me you're leaving me for a white woman?
John Sr.: Would it help if she was black?
Bernadine: No. It would help if you were black.

Men make my soul itch.

I s'pose I let them make my soul itch, but I'll be damned if I can't scratch deep enough to relieve the irritation.

How the fuck you gon' get strong off of my fortitude, get back on your feet, and roll your new and improved ass out here post haste and get yourself another woman to grandstand with and for?

Are you serious?

Well, it happens. That's why I keep telling women to leave these fixer-upper nigrayshuns alone. Let them fix they OWN gatdamn self up. Fix up your own shit.

You won't build your house using my timber and my nails and my hammers and my sweat and my time and my skills and then don't even invite me in that muthafucka for a cool drink.

Naw. It's not going down like that.

Now I can fucks with you if you have potential and the resources to help yourself.

But outside of that, "assembly required" muthafuckas need not apply.

The Broken Wing Hospital is closed, and Dr. Millimeter cancelled her malpractice insurance, pawned her stethoscope, liquidated her assets and is somewhere suckin' the dick of a man that got his OWN shit.

Time is far spent for bullshitting.

*blank stare*

I've got to get this ball on the court. Gotta get my thang in my action.


That's what's happenin'.

*blank stare*

Something's got to pop off for me. Soon. I realize that I'm as anxious as S about the prospect of not being able to do that which I've always done.

I didn't understand her angst

I'm straight trippin', boo.

Too much time on my hands, it's ticking away with my sanity
I've got too much time on my hands, it's hard to believe such a calamity
I've got too much time on my hands and it's ticking away from me
Too much time on my hands, too much time on my hands
Too much time on my hands . . .
-- Styx

Oy vey.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Next Lifetime

Your energy
Feels so damn good to me
It picks me up
Don't wanna come down
Got you spinnin' all around
You need to know
I got somebody
But your beautiful
But still it ain't that type of party
-- Badu

HAS to be the most fucked up emotional situation you can ever be in.

Err'thang is right.

Chemistry. So damn right. Interests. So right. Flow. So gatdman right.

...but you kinda in the middle of something. *ahem* Ok, ok. You're in a relationship.

That shit blows me, because this type of shit used to always seem to happen to me.

I was famous for havin' some ill timing when it came to my loins.

Me and Dennis messed with each other for years. How long was it? Had to be about 10 good years. On and off.

When I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't fuck with him.

When he had a girlfriend, I'd still fuck with him.

Hey, he'd ask, how come you refuse to cheat, but you make me cheat?

I'd sigh, and reassure him, Because you can't bear the thought of being without me.

I wasn't being arrogant. I was telling the truth.

I was his drug. I was his drink of choice. I was his equalizer. I was the neutralizer. I was his balance. I was...I was....the best piece of ass he ever had.

Oh, how sweetly I would kiss Dennis. Oh, so sweetly. I'd awaken his body with kisses. Wow, he loved kisses.

I knew how to touch him. What to say to him. How to hold him.

We'd slow drag in his living room to Keith Sweat and Gerald Levert, and he'd make me all wet and sticky at the thought of fluffy lips cushioning my clit.

*readjusting myself*

And then one day...he told me he was getting married.

Huh? Why?

You don't want me, he said.

I cried.

Because he was right.

Next lifetime won't be soon enough for me to hold him again though.

*raising my hand*

Ooh! Oooh! Pick me! Pick me!

Remember how you used to lean into that shit if the teacher was taking too long to pick you?

Ooooh! Pick me! Pick me!

Be gruntin' and shit.

Anyway, Alexander Foo was a big-swole boy in my 2nd grade class.

He was cock-diesel for a 7 year old. Had a big ass afro. And these puffy ass eyes that looked like he ain't never slept in his life.

...and he was black.

Don't ask me where he got that name, I'm just telling you the story.

Anyway, this little muthafucka would go up in the coat closet and eat people's lunches.

The foul shit was that he wouldn't eat ALL your lunch. Just the shit he liked. He'd leave the shit he ain't like.

On any given day, he would straight rough off about 10 lunches.

Kids be sittin' at the lunch table, crying and shit.

Teacher come over and there would be a bite out your sandwich.

A browning apple core.

Your juice would be gone.

Wiped his mouth with your napkin, and put it back in there.

Couldn't never catch that fucka doing it, but err'body knew Alexander was doing it.

Be at the table, hyperventilating,

Al-al-al-ex-AND-er ate my lunchhhhhhhhhh!

You know you had a fucked up lunch when Alexander didn't touch a gatdamned thing in it.

I wonder where that puffy-eyed, lunch bandit is now.

Oh, and he stunk too.

I guess I'll see you next lifetime...

Jeanette Robey pee'd on herself in third grade, and we still call her Pee Pee Girl.

Kids are cruel.

Speaking of which...let me go pay my water bill.

Friday, September 09, 2005


Well follow me, won't you come away
Don't worry baby, everything's okay
You can't run the game if you don't know my name
I'll take you where you've never been before
There's something for you, a whole lot more
You ain't gotta peek, everyone knows you're a freak
Slide, slide, slide
Yeah, baby baby, slide
Slide, slide, slide, slide
Why don't you slide?
-- Slave

Got my imaginary skates on - whatchu know about those skates with the white boots, the deep navy blue wheels, and the blue pom-pons attached to my laces.

I'm one.thorough.bitch.

Oh, I'm skatin' all over this runner at my desk. What? You don't know?

Can't nobody air skate like me.

Cross! Cross! Cross! Cross!

I just turned a corner, jerk.

Phone's ringing but I'm pickin' up speed, and I'm about go roller derby on these bitches standing right there. Think they cute.

Uh-oh! Uh-oh! Uh-oh!

I got on my pink and white baseball shirt, with my neon pink letters spellin' NINA aka BABY REDD across the back. Yeah. Got them new letters. Can't even tell they're iron-on.

Mind you, I'm not a redbone. But what young girl growing up in the 70's wasn't obsessed with being lightskinned with bow-legs and having hair hanging down her back?

I wasn't red, but light enough to call myself such and not get clowned. Heh.

Got on my Chardon jeans. They're tight too. And I managed to sneak my sister's glitter belt out the house before she knew what was happening. Had to put it on in Lisa's mother's car though. I ain't stupid.

Note to self: Hide any pictures taken tonight, as they may account as evidence against you in Sibling Court.

Got my Orange Crush Lipsmacker lip balm on. In case Chad wants to kiss me. Umm hmm. *mwah* Takes just like o-ranges!

Oranges, sparanges
Who cares?
Oranges, sparanges
Who cares?
Oranges, sparanges
Who cares?
I ain't got time for oranges
-- H.R. Puffinstuf

I spent all evening curling my hair into this flip. I put some sponge rollers in it so I wouldn't sweat it out before tonight though. It looks good. Smells like cotton candy, courtesy of Isoplus Oil Sheen.

It don't have much bounce, on account of the grease, but it won't revert.

I came with my three girls, but I'm standing at the entrance to the rink floor. The early bird catches the worm. Ya heard? I don't have time to be cackling with them all night. Last time I did that, Tiya beat me to him.

But not tonight.

A bitch got an agenda.

*the sign flashes "Couples Skate"*

Where he at? Where he at? Wait. Move your head! Oh, wait. Uh huh. There he is.

*reaching out and grabbing the finest boy in the imaginary rink*

He's been watching me all night, and he's know I got this groove, so he puts his hands on my hips, and gets behind me.

The DJ puts on "Straight From the Heart," and we catch the downbeat and start our stutter-skate.

1&1, and 2&2, and 1&1, and 2&2

We look good out here. Cuz you know, that's what it's all about. Lookin' good out here.

Awww...don't they look cute? They are right in step with each uvvah.

Yeah, ain't we cute.

All ballet-like, I spin around so I can face him, going backwards in complete trust to his lead.

He's bold for a 14 year old. He's looking me in my eyes, and singing to me...

There's a spell on my mind
And you're to blame
Nothing else in my life
Will ever be the same
It must be love
For there is nothing that I won't do
For the love of you
From now on, everything that I have
Is yours...forever
This is straight from the heart
No one...could ever doubt
My love...will last till the end of time
Of time
-- Con Funk Shun

I'm flush, even though we're moving rather briskly, as he turns me and twirls me effortlessly.

I'm glad he can't see the change under the dimmed lights and reflection of the disco ball. I'on want him to know I like him. Just yet.

What am I to do
With the love I've found
I can't believe that you
Completely turned my world around...

He pulls me in closer, and I put my arms around his neck, and rest my head on his shoulder. His young body molds into mine, and I don't even know if I'm breathing.

In my head, I can hear the collective sighs of all the envious little bats whose eyes haven't left us since I took his hand.

Can I have a chance?, he asked, as he rubs his junior hard-on into my leg. He adds, You smell good, before I can even answer.

What else is more important right now?

I can't get the answer out of my mouth, but I grind down on his hard-on. He lets out the smallest of exhales, before he inhaled it back in.

That meant yes.

*lights come up, and Lakeside's It's All the Way Live pipes in*

He spins around, and readjusts his poked-out pants, and pulls his shirt out to cover that little spot of pre-cum that seeped through his 501's.

It's All the Way Live!
It's All the Way Live!
It's All the Way Live!
It's All the Way Live!
All you gotta do is boogie...

He gives me a half-smile because he would be embarrassed if I wasn't his girl...but he's not.

We skate side by side, our hands crossed alternately in front of us, and we skate hard twice around, picking up enough speed to whip out.

After we get past this couple right here, I can let go of my right hand, and fully extend...

Yeah, like that. I'm a little dizzy, but he's holding me tight with his right hand, as I slow down, lagging just a second or two behind him...

...and with one good pull without losing balance, he whips me around and sends me flying!

I'm flying!
I'm flying!

I'm going too fast to turn around!

Get out the way!

*ahem* Nina? Nina? I've been calling you for the last half hour. You didn't hear your phone?

I reach up and feel my hair. No flip, but a bob. I glance down at my feet, shyly. Tan sandals. No pom-poms.

And...and this Donna Karan shirt doesn't look like my pink & white BABY REDD shirt.


Another hour lost to the 70's.

Why won't you slideeeeeee?

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Miss Sally

There was a sweet, sweet lady
Who lived on my block
Not far from the smoke spot
She always had a pocket full of cash
Jeans full of ass, everytime she passed me
Well, I was just a young boy but I remember
Would I ever have a chance for romance
Miss Thing was much older
But if I had a chance, here's what I would have told her

You know I got a thing for you
Of course, I was too young for you
I didn't know just what to do
About the way I felt for you
I'm a little older now
Old enough to play around
So lock the door and lose the key
It's you, I need
Miss Sally
-- Lathun

I used to hold this little muthafucka's hand when we were walking to the store in the summer of '81.

Snotty-nosed and too fat for a 6 year old, I would feel sorry for his little weezin' ass. Never could keep up.

I knew how it felt to be left out of things because you weren't physically as strong as the other kids.

So I'd lag back, and make sure that Tang got across the street.

When he'd tried to strike up convo, I'd hush him. Lispin' ass. He was a cutie though, in a Dough-Boy Baby sort of way.

I don't want to pressure you, baby
But all I ever wanted to do
I wanna be your...lover
-- Prince

Fast forward to the summer of 2002.

Thick, reddish-brown. His curls black and glossy in the afternoon sun. All smiles. Aaah, I see the braces served you well.

Wassup, baby. It's been a long time. I seen ya fahva the ovuh day.

So I'on live around the way anymore, but I check on Pops weekly. And when I see them out on the corner, I pause for the cause. Check out my niggas who are still there.

And here his fine ass was. All growed the fuck up.

That baby fat had morphed into 210 lbs. on a 6'2" frame that makes you think of Gerald Levert, only toned. And finer.

Good muthafuckin' grief. Who told you to grow up lookin' like that?

This fish came swimmin' by. I hit her with the look.

We gonna hit 'em with the super grit, hit 'em with the super grit, ya'll
Aw hit 'em with the super grit
-- Trouble Funk

You besta swim fish before I jump in that ass like a storm. Bitch.

Are you eyeballin' me boy?
You keep me eyeballin' me and I'ma rip your eyeballs out and skull-fuck you to death!
-- Louis Gossett, Officer & A Gentleman

Ok. I got sidetracked, but I jive got heated all over again thinkin' about that cunt eyeballin' me.


Thick lover was leanin' all in my car, and I'm half feeling bad that I'm lusting after him like 40 goin' north when I practically used to change his diapers when he was little.

Half feelin' good though about this daydream I was havin' about putting my tongue slam down his throat.

...but still half feelin' bad.

So we chitted to the chat, and he offered me his number.

We should keep in touch.

Touch deez.

I smirked at the insidiousness of it all.

But man, I couldn't take the baby's number. Plus, I'on call niggas. Fuck I look like. Get at me when you see me, youngin.

I gotta girl named Sally
And she don't squawk
Or eat pork with a spoon or fork
-- Stetsasonic

I didn't see him for a while, and then he drove up one day when I'm out on the block, reminiscing with the natives.

I don't know how we got on the subject, but we were teasing this other dude that used to like me but was skurrreed to tell me back in high school.

You wanted to be my boyfriend, Pete? wanted to be my boyfriend? Fa real?

So, Tang chimes in,

I've always wanted to fuck you, Nina.

*needle scratches the record*

I've always wanted to fuck you in your ass. I used to lay in bed thinkin' about that big ass.

As pimptified as I am, and as bad as I am, and as thorough as I am...

My neck got all hot, and my face. My face was on fire.

I was embarrassed as fuck!

You wanted to fuck me in my ass? What gave you the idea that you coulda got up in my ass? Even in your dreams?

I want my rim shot, hey, digi, digi
The rim shot, hey, c'mon
My rim shot, hey, digi, digi
The rim shot, hey, c'mon
-- Erykah Badu

I mean damn. Gotta be something psychologically demeaning behind this muthafucka, who I used to care for like a little brother, grew up dreamin' about my ass and sticking his dick up in it.

Maybe there's a definition somewhere in a Psych 301 textbook that states that anal dispositions manifested through dreams denotes the highest regard and respect for a person. Pedestal status, even.

Yeah. That's the ticket.

Let's go with that.

Now, after I cussed him out till I was tired -- 1) for having crusty ass wet dreams about me in his choo-choo train bed, and 2) revealing said secret in front of all the homies who were all now eyein' my ass intently...

...I got that number.

Well let me tell you that it hurts so bad
It makes me feel so sad
It makes me hurt so bad to see you again
-- Little Anthony & The Imperials

I done tried relaxing.

It still hurts.

Not to mention, afterwards your farts sound like whistles.

What Your Farts Sound Like After Anal Sex

Now head? I can fucks with head.

Not head for you! Head for me! The lingus-ningus. That good stuff. The Meal of Champions. Pink Ambrosia.

Yeah that!

It's not that I can cum a fafillion times off of head. Naw, head isn't about the orgasm to me.

It's about havin' a man's head between my legs. Polishin' me up like fine silver. Wif him mouth.

Makes me feel powerful.

I can see why you niggas are sprung off it. It's deifying. Cataclysmically ego-inflating.

Til you're burning up
Til you get enough
Til you're love is red
Love you til you're dead
-- Prince

Tastes just like chicken!

I'm broke, and irritable.

Not a good mix.

Who can I call to cuss out?


I got a taste for chitlins.

How random is that?

Thursday, September 01, 2005

A Real Mother For Ya

Wanna buy a new car
But the price ain't right (Ha ha, ain't that cold?)
Be a damnsight cheaper (yes, it would)
Start riding a bike (huh, listen)
They are making milk out of powder (yeah, they are)
Got the baby's crying (poor baby, they'on know what that stuff is)
Rent's going up higher (yes, it is)
Got the parents lying (I'll pay you tomorrow!)
-- Johnny "Guitar" Watson

People dying.

People dying left and right, and I'm half scared to close my eyes for fear that my nap between linens will transpose to a dirt one.

People dying so much that I keep my funeral suit dry-cleaned and ready to put on in the case of a sudden death or tragedy.

People just keep dying.

Damn, I wish they'd stop dying.

Lord, it's a real mother for ya (yeah)
Make you wanna run for cover
And if you look you will discover (yeah)
Lord, it's a real mother for ya, yeah...

I honestly know why people commit suicide.

I'm too chicken to join them in the ranks. Hell, life is all I know. That's all I wanna know. But I do understand.

Ever get tired?

Soul tired. Different than fatigue tired. Different than physical exertion tired.

Soul tired.

Time doesn't fly.
Brand new mercies don't come with the breaking of day.
"Don't Be Happy, Worry" plays in the background.

Soul tired.

Yeah, I know...the zealots will say, "But your body doesn't belong to you! It belongs to God, and he would not have you take your life!"

Well, if that's the case, then he need to come down here and tag-in and take the rest of this turn for me.

Cuz fa real...when a soul gets tired.

There is no rest for it.

Naw, my nipples aren't hard thinking about the single-edge razor I have in my drawer at home. I'm not suicidal. Gotta say that cuz one of you muthafuckas gon' half-read, and then write some self-help-tical bullshit in my comments, and it's gon' piss me off.

Naw, I'm happy as a sissy with a bag of dicks. Please believe me.

I'm just saying...I know why they do it.

Got to go to a disco
Throw your troubles away
Dance to the music
That the DJ's play
And then the light come on
Like you knew they would
Go home and face the music
That don't sound too good

The quickest way to find your self in the same place is to run from where you are.

I hate when people say I've done a complete 360!

Nutlint, that means you're right back where you started.

No wonder Japan's kickin' our ass in mathematics, science and technology.

I've done a 360!

Uh...ok. Not impressive.


I work with this guy that doesn't

I try to talk slow. Very clear. Keep the topics real simple.

Muthafucka still don't get it. I'm convinced he doesn't think. Just doesn't think at all.

I saw him putting a label on an envelope backwards (yeah, he's THAT dumb), and I'm like, did you read where you're supposed to align the label?

Um. I just did it like that one, he said, pointing to a similar envelope.

Fuckin' Neanderthal, this one.

But yet he KEEPS pussy around him.

I asked him, are you givin' women money?

He's like, Naw.

And I believe him, cuz he too dumb to lie.

So I'm payin' their bills?


What the fuck? Then what you doin'?

Why can't they just enjoy my company?, he asked. Had the nerve to be jive incredulous at the insinuation that he wasn't charming.

He must got a big dick.

I might be dumb, and I might be stupid.
But Darla said my dictate good!
-- Buckwheat

But am I wrong?