Friday, January 27, 2006

We Playin' Baskeeeeeeetballllllll...

...we love that bas-ket-ball
We playin' basketttttttballlll
We love that bas-ket-ball...
-- Kurtis Blow

That Lilliputian was hoopin' on my ass!

Wait...wait...did that nigglet just cross me up?

Huh? What?

Naw...we wasn't on no court.

My little niece Moe was crossin' me up like TV Guide puzzle, and doing lookaways and fingerrolls on me like she was the Iceman Cometh and I was white.

...on a back-of-the-door hoop, with a palm-sized ball.


Feel my chagrin.

I start to clothesline the munchkin.

Take that, midget!

But I didn't think I was gon' be able to explain the palm print on the side of her face to her momma.

I been trying to tell them since that child was two that she was extraordinarily manually dextrous. How many 2 year olds that YOU know can dribble...with each hand. Continuously for minutes on end? Shit, I can't even do that.

I stopped playing when she skyhooked on me.

*blank stare*

Cuz if this little muthafucka dunk on me. I'm. I'ma have to dispose of her little ass body.

My poor nieces and nephews.

They had to grow up listening to me and my sisters singing and dancing...all the time.

It's not that we're talented. Cuz we aren't.

We just like to sing.

I suppose they're used to it, cuz when the Middle Child stands up and says, "Remember this dance, ya'll?" and proceeds to start doing the Bus Stop or the Freak, the children know to start helping us move the coffee table out the way.

*doing the Windmill Robot*

You'on know nothing 'bout that! You'on know nothin' 'bout that!

What is Kanye's fascination with Greekdom?

Yeah...yeah, I know he's puttin' up the Roc sign, but follow where I'm going here...

And just imagine how my girl feel
On the plane, scared as hell that her guy look like Emmett Till
She was with me before the deal, she been tryin to be mine
She a Delta, so she been throwin that +Dynasty+ sign

Uh...who gives a fuck, Kanye? I mean, is it JUST me, or does this nigga sound like some GDI sorority-girl flunkie always mentionin' what colors his girl rocks?

Go back to school and pledge, Kanye. It ain't that serious.

And what the fuck is this all about?

Alpha, step. Omega, step
Kappa, step. Sigma, step
Gangstas walk, pimps gon' talk
Oooh hecky naw that boy is raw
AKA, step. Delta, step
S G Rho, step. Zeta, step
Gangstas walk, pimps gon' talk
Oooh hecky naw that boy is raw

I'm convinced if I wasn't convinced before that Kanye dropped line or got rejected or somethin'. Had to have.

Probably an eternal Crescent or some shit.

The hohwah!

I hate nutcrackers. Kanye's a nutcracker. Says me.

My neighbor NEVER goes to work.

By the time I get home in the evening, the smell of overpowering incense damn near knocks me down, and I hear a gang of niggas in his apartment.

Gettin' faded to the blackest of black.

But that muthafucka be up in the morning. EARLY, ya heard?

What the fuck he be up in the mornin' for? That's what I'm tryna understand.

I half-wanted to knock on his door and ask him. How would that turn out?

Me: Hey. Whatchu doin' up?
Him: Shit.
Me: Aaah. You'on work?
Him: Naw.
Me: That's wack.
Him: *slams door in my face*
Me: It ain't like I interrupted your triflin ass! Not like you fi'n to GO NOWHERE today!

Fuckin' loser.

Then I had the nerve to catch him bringing a little Beck-Beck up to his apartment last weekend.

He out his house shoes, no doubt...waiting for Miss Ann to get out of her car.

She get out her car with the millenium white-girl uniform on. Low-rider jeans. Somebody told them they had butts and now we gotta look at pink crack all the time.

Oh wait...I tangented.

So this low-expectation-havin' muthafucka escorts Beck-Beck in the building, and you know what I'm doin' right?

I had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and I'm watchin' this Jungle Fevered hotfuckin'mess like I'll be damned.

You know you'on have to pay no bills for white girls though. Just pay attention.

Now don't get me who you love. Be wit' who can stand your rotten ass! I'm all for love in whatever form it comes in.

Actually, I get an intense pleasure knowin' that this weed-smokin', house-shoe wearin', dingy shirt, young sweatpants havin' numbnut ain't in the bed of or failing to come through like he said he would for one of my fellow black sistren.

Beckster can have him.

Shit. If we want a scrub, we'd get on our hands and knees? Feel me?

Monday, January 23, 2006

Caught Up

You have captivated me in every way
From the time we met, still until this day
Oh boy, you got me... caught up with you
Simple as the time we spent I'll tell you this
I'll do anything cause the truth is
Boy you really got me... caught up with you
And I'm sayin, and I'm sayin, boy

I want to be none less than wifey
You half-ass the rest
But you watch your step with me
See, I know and you know that we are
Ready for love

Oh-oh, oh, oh, oh got me
Oh-oh, oh, oh, oh keep me
-- Teedra Moses

I'on know how many times I gotta tell this nigga that I'm not gonna be his girlfriend for the next 5 years.

Nope. Wife me, nigga.

As I'm watching that bastard take another biteful of food, I'm 'claring war in my mind.

I'm not washing your funky ass clothes no more. Wash 'em yourself!

This isn't a restaurant. Eat before you get here.

Just like you don't feeeeeeeeel like marrying me yet...

I'on feeeeeeeeeeeeeee like fucking you tonight.

Two can play that game, Tonto.

See, and then ya'll wonder why we up and get pregnant on your slow-to-react asses.

I had a girlfriend actually tell me,'re gonna have to just go on and get pregnant for him to marry you.


I do?

Says who?

I'm not beggin' that muthafucka to marry me!

Ain't gon' beg you to love me
Ain't gon' beg you to hold me
Ain't gon' beg you to pick me up and take me out
Ain't gon' beg you to ice me
Ain't gon' beg you to want me
Why should I have to when somebody else will?
-- Fantasia

Fuck I look like.

Not getting pregnant to pressure this fool.

He'll either get his shit together or he won't.

Regardless of that, I will continue doing me. And I do me well. Please believe me.

(It's) your mind vs.
(It's) Your heart vs.
(It's) Your soul vs.
(Your) Your body
Our bullshit
(And) Our ego
(And) Our pride
(That's why) That's why I love the word WOMAN...
-- R. Kelly

I'm past the age where I can list all my pros in my one uninterruptible string of adjectives, adverbs, and word phrases.

From my experience, I consider myself to be a helluva gal.

But that's just me. I realize that my experiences are limited, relatively speaking.

But in the microcosm that is MY world, my worth is earmarked by each stretch mark on my ass.

Each mole on my face.

Each pop of the cartilege in my knee.

All that shit means something to me. That shit is worth something TO me.

I can cook my ass off, but I expect for all women to be able to do such.

Product of my childhood, ya'll. So that ain't no shit I'm impressed by, and would look at you crazy if you were impressed by it.

Woman supposed to be able to smother some chicken and fry cabbage and make homemade frosting.

Woman supposed to do that.

My man don't clean shit when I'm around. I clean everything.

Where I'm from, that's what we do. I ain't lookin' for no award for that either.

Just the way it is.

But wait...I'm not your fuckin' doormat.

I'm not some annoying bill that comes every month, that you never pay, and that never seems to be reported to Equifax.

That's not what I am.

I treat you good because that's who I am.

Not because of who YOU are. So let that be forever delineated here in case that it hasn't been.

I treat you good cuz that's the balm that soothes my spirit.

But I'll leave you if that soothes me just as well.

Don't get it confused.

I'm not purporting to be this strong muthafucka that don't need no man, cuz I do. I like sleeping next to a hot body. I like rubbing on your dick in my sleep. I love hearing your laugh. I love watching you rage at the Redskins when Brunell fucks up. I love how you just flow into what I'm not, and I can look down and not tell the difference between my end and your beginning.

But I'll be alright if I look down and all I see is me.

I'm sure of that.

But I'm no hero.

I'm just...ok. I wish that for everyone.

To be ok with where they living. I mean, of course, if you can live somewhere else better and not be house poor, do that.

But be ok where you at.

Be ok with what you are driving.

Be ok with who your friends are. They not perfect. Shit, if they were...they wouldn't be fuckin' witchu, now would they?

Be ok.

Just be ok with where and what and who and why YOU exist.

Just be ok.

And, baby. I'm ok.

I can't stand that Kobe Coon.

No really...fuck him and his 80 points.

Ass crack lovin', big walnut-Adam's Apple, sloped forehead Mongoloid mu'fucka.

And he pussy whupped?

Ugh. Fuck that nigga with a sick dick. In the ass crack, since he love that shit so much!

Speaking of sick dick...

Did you know Scott Joplin died of syphillis?

I was watching this movie about his life this weekend, and err'time somebody tried to ask him what was wrong with him, he goes into this hemmin' and hawin' routine about how his illness was complicated.

Told his wife that he left her with a painful legacy.

Yeah, muthafucka. SORES!

Told his producer that he couldn't work definitively, because of this illness that came and went.

Didn't you use to hang around brothels, Scott?

Complicated, eh?

That shit just struck me as hilarious. I'm laying in the bed, kee-keein' my ass off at Billy Dee tryna 'splain this shit eloquently.

Nigga, your dick is dripping!

Complicated. Yeah...I'll say. When you got some shit that don't have no cure for your black ass, I guess that shit IS complicated.

Make 'em, make 'em clap to this
Make 'em, make 'em clap to this...
-- Eric B. & Rakim

I know I say some ignorant shit sometimes.

What's new?

Friday, January 20, 2006

Something in the Water (Don't Compute)

Must be something in the water they drink
It's been the same with every girl I've had
Must be something in the water they drink
'Cuz why else would a woman wanna treat a man so bad?
-- Prince

I'm shocked and surprised at how fragile many people's personas are.

Sure, sure...they say they are strong.

But recall a conversation from a day ago. A week ago. Try 3 months ago. A year ago? Did their personal mantra change each time?

Does talking to them make you dizzy? Physically ill?

Does one criticism from your mouth make them hell-bent for leather to change said deficiency in order to "prove" to you that such deficiency ever existed?

Fragility of person.

Does not compute...


Quit coddling her! She'll be 19 on her birthday, right? Well, if the little bitch don't wanna work, then the little bitch don't eat.

Time is far spent to be coddling these titty suckers. Yeah, that's what I'm calling children -- ungrateful children, especially -- today. Titty suckers.

When I was 19, I would have given my canine teeth for a job. She doesn't respond well to last minute things. Fuckouttahere! She's a lazy little fucker! That's her problem.

You know my remedy to all things pertaining to children. Beat her. I'on have no other resolution.

Don't not compute...

I had to tell him that I'm with somebody else. Now, see...part of me didn't wanna. Justtttttttttttt in case. But then I thought about it -- do I really wanna give up any charity pussy in 2006?

Hells nah!

Don't he still get up underneath your very LAST nerve?

Hells yeah!

So why you even going through this in your head?

Hells I'on know!

Isn't he a premature ejaculator?

Hells yeah!

So why take him into 2006 with you?

Hells right!

I had to tell him I'm with somebody else now, and that I couldn't be his homie/lover/friend no more. I think he took it kind of hard. I haven't heard from him this week.

Bitch -- U think you're special?
Well, so do I...
-- Prince

Nice of you to notice.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Sexy Lady

Sexy Lady,(hey) gimme your number, girl (roll wit it, nigga, roll wit it, nigga)
Sexy Lady, (hey) I wanna rock your world (roll wit it, nigga, roll wit it, nigga)
Sexy Lady, (hey) gimme your number, girl (roll wit it, nigga, roll wit it, nigga)
Sexy Lady, (hey) I wanna rock your world (roll wit it, nigga, roll wit it, nigga)
I wanna hook up witchu on Sa-tur-day
I'ma pick you up on Sat-ur-day
Maybe we can go catch a matinee, hey, hey, hey
I'ma come get you on Sa-tur-day
I'ma pick you up on Sat-ur-day
Maybe you can give me some wassaname, hey, hey, hey...
-- Uncalled 4 Band

*beating my feet and sweating out my Creme of Nature*


Good lawd, I love me some go-go.

Yeah, yeah...I know I'm one good cry away from 40, but you'on outgrow go-go. That shit's in you.

This particular song is my new jive obsession...when this shit comes on, I basically kirk out. <--- typical D.C. term

Now perhaps, it's the System's Don't Disturb This Groove sample that they are crankin', but I'on know...

When Tre starts singing the hook, Sexy ladyyyyyyyyy, gimme your number, girl..., I go back to days full of Black Holes and Cherries. Panorama Rooms and Coliseums. Back when niggas wore SuperTims and it mattered what number was on your New Balances.

You only got the 545's? You shoulda told your parents to get you the 1300's!

Fuck a grill. We had gold pinky nails.

If you could dance, and your momma let you go to the go-go frequently, you could get famous.

Ask Jumpin' Janet and Lisa of the World. Locally famous. Ask Trina Boo. Locally famous.

Who we gon' put on display now?
Who we gon' put on display?
We got Nina in the house tonight (uh huh)
And everything's gon' be alright
Cuz she came to boogie
She came to boogie down...
-- Trouble Funk

Shit...we was gettin' krump before L.A. was, and we ain't wear no clown make-up to rock it either. What the fuck is that shit anyway?

And we could pop our booty like Beyonce only wish she could.


So when you listen to that song, before you comment on how it's some BOOOOOOLSHEEEEET (cuz I know that's what you out-of-region mu'fuckas gon' try to say), realize that you about to disrespect my affinity.

I ain't got the time to give this the serial attention it deserves, but know this -- despite your confusion, somebody's reading this and Working the Walls with me.

She's a bitch
She's a big fat bitch
She's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world
-- Eric Cartman, remixed

I abhor seeing fat white chicks in pink. I saw two of them today. Both had on pink car coats.

Made me think of my boy.

I belee, I belee, I belee...

Excuse me, miss. But I belee you look like a fuckin' pig in that coat.

You gotta stay tuned
Cuz there's more to see (Unbreakable)
Through the tech-ni-cal dif-fi-cul-ties (Unbreakable)
-- Soror Alicia Keyes

I got an issue with falling. Now see, before you even start to jone. I just fall alot. I'on know why. My 'librium is all fucked up, I s'pose.

Anyway, one time I was going to a party and I was leavin' from my dad's house. Shitty sharp was I, about to take me and my 4-inch stillettos down the steps until... heel overstayed its welcome on the last step.

*bloom, fhyoom, bluh-ka-POOM*

That's how the shit sounded.

You ever be in so much pain you can't even say SHIT? I mean...I was wimpering inaudibly, but I couldn't even press forth any sound. THAT'S how much that shit hurt.

Now I know my black ass musta laid at the bottom of them stairs for about 3 whole minutes.

Then I hear, "Nina! Niiiiiiiinaaaaaaaa!"

It's my Dad.

Cut away: Does this muthafucka realize that I just fell down the muthafuckin' steps and I can't breathe, let alone answer?

I think I mustered a "Yes." I'on know who woulda hurt it though.

This muthafucka inches out of his room, and approaches the steps apprehensively.

By now, I got my breath back.

What took you so long?

Why this bamma say,

I didn't hear anything after you fell. For a moment, I thought you might be dead, so I was preparing myself for what I was gonna see at the bottom of the steps.

I'm layin' at the bottom of the steps, crooped up like...

...and this nigga is preparing himself.

And people wonder why I'm fucked up in the head.

If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life
Never make a pretty woman your wife
From my personal point of view
Get an ugly girl to marry you...
-- Jimmy Soul

The prize could be $5 million and big dick for life and I couldn't kiss this nigga:

He looks like he stink.

Get the funk outta my face
Outta my face! -- Brothers Johnson

Speaking of which...

I remember in high school, my friend Kim was known to tell people that they stunk. She arose to jive cult status in the school for havin' the "balls" to tell ANYBODY that they smelled like some fried assholes. And you know how you are in school...once people hype you up about that type of seek out opportunities for further adulation, right?


So Mark was our classmate, and we had known this white boy for years, but one particualr year, he just came back to school like he was Funkmaster Flex or sumfin'.

Just smelled all kinds of bad. I can't even 'splain the shit.

So damn, he was so funky that when that funk hit you in the face, your left eye would just close involuntarily.

That lid would just slam shut like, Fuck this shit!

So Kim had had it in English class one particularly hot, and stank day, and rose up and confronted him at his front of everybody.

Mark, your body odor is offensive to me, and I would appreciate it if you could wash your body before school tomorrow and use some deodorant. Thank you.

Strode back to her desk, picked up her pen, and finished writing her vocabulary sentences.

We sittin' there like this:


But as right as that shit felt, and as much as his armstrong ass deserved said intervention...

I felt bad for him.

Shorty was embarrassed as fuck.

She had laid his shit out -- dead to rights -- in front of err'body.

Even his little fake ass friends who would talk about him behind his back were sitting over there smugly, lookin' at him, like Umm hmmm. You do need to wash your ass.

I thought he was gon' cry for a minute.

He didn't though.

And the next day, he didn't remind me of a Irish Spring either.

Reminds me of something my father used to tell me:

Gal, there are two people in life that NOBODY ever forgets -- the stinky kid, and the hoe. You make sure you ain't neither one of them people.

*sniffin' my pits*

So far, so good, Pops.